#also thank fuck these visits aren’t being charged and are part of the So You Bought Retainers costs

[bending-sickle]

back from yet another orthodontist visit and

the working theory is that i grind my teeth so bad at night — a habit picked up from years of having the other type of retainers which were of the “hai have massive amounts of plastic between your teeth, sleep with your jaw wide open why don’t you” variety — that i shove the retainers too hard into my teeth and everything gets fucked :)))

they’ve been polished down a bit more so either that works or i wear them a few hours during the day.

and if that isn’t enough — or i bite too hard at night (that’s what she said eyy) then i’ll need night guard retainers.

which is basically the same as replacing the broken retainers i already had.

which means i could have just fucking skipped this whole step and these different-model-but-better retainers.

in conclusion: fuck them teeth

#they never fucking warn you about this when you start orthodoncy as a kid #like oh hey btw this will be a lifelong commitment #that or undo all the work you’ve done #let’s bring out that tag again: #*sings* i! hate! everything about this! #ALSO ge told me not to exercise my upper body ao much because since it’s all connected i might bite harder at night and like #ffs man i just want smexy smexy shoulders #anyway not going to the gym today because it’s late and i don’t want to be there until the fucking afternoon #also typing this with one fricked up eye because oh yeah my contact lens refuses to sit properly yayyy #in further conclusion: i am frustration #randomness #also thank fuck these visits aren’t being charged and are part of the So You Bought Retainers costs

[darling-i-read-it]

HCs for Life with Stephen

Stephen Strange x fem!reader

Warnings: stephen being unable to show his emotions

Requested: by anon, Hi again! I’m so glad you’re up for a Dr. Strange request. Can I get some hcs of what it would be like to be in a relationship with him, starting with him asking the f!reader out, them dating and then him proposing? Thanks so much in advance!

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

Author’s Note: gosh he just be hitting different. I hope you enjoy!

- he asked you out after he become the sorcerer supreme

- and it’s probably a little bit annoying because he has so much ego that he is just sitting there wondering why you aren’t fawning over him yet

- but he truly does care about you

- you’re one of the only people who know everything about him, from surgeon to sorcerer

- you have managed to stay alongside him for that long and you swear to stay for longer

- you’re one of the only constants in his life and he doesn’t want to lose you

- is he going to say all that? Absolutely fucking not!

- in fact, he’s probably just like ‘drinks?’

- as though you guys haven’t been friends for like, years at that point ?????

- make it make sense stephen ))))

- but you do say yes because you thought he would never ask

- he kisses you after that first date cause he just can’t make himself wait any longer

- it’s ironically perfect

- both of you thought it was going to be awkward but you were standing out on the sidewalk and he just went for it and it was….perfect

- dating Stephen is hard because he isn’t much of an affectionate person

- he prefers to practically ignore the fact that your dating until it’s convenient for him

- but also, he’s witty and annoying and he loves to kiss you and take charge so you let him do what he wants to do for the most part

- he isn’t sure how to handle your emotions

- but he actually does give it his best shot because he wants you to be as comfortable with him as possible

- he wants you to live with him in the Sanctum. That’s where he can best protect you and where you can be closest to him

- Wong actually adores you

- ‘If only you had become Sorcerer Supreme instead of Strange’

- Wong and Stephen don’t have JOBS so your income basically allows them to get food and stuff like-

- they also will help you with anything you need in that area

- hey, if they gotta they’ll go down to your boss themselves and give em a piece of their minds

- Stephen sometimes gets jealous of how easy it is for Wong to express his emotions for you

- he wants to let you know how much he loves you but he just can't. Say it

- instead he will do simple things like remember your food order, write you notes, search out spells you may like, show you the cool things he can do

- weekend trips to random places in the world cause he can just do that

- its on one of these trips that he proposes

- he isn’t sure you actually will say yes

- and his proposing speech is much better than his ‘wanna go on a date’ speech

- he took you out to one of your favorite places you had visited over the years, if that is China or England, or freaking Las Vegas, he’ll go to your favorite place

- he probably found a spot ages ago that he thought would be nice

- he was really worried it was gonna come off as awkward but when the time came and your back was turned, he knew it was perfect

- ‘I know I’m not the easiest to get along with. And I don’t blame you if you wanna say no, I would probably say no. But you make me happier than I’ve ever been and you put up with me like a champ.’

- so maybe the speech wasn’t that great but it had you in tears

- he asked you and you said yes, of course

- the wedding was small, only your closest friends on your side and Wong on his side

- plus some old doctor buddies he still sorta was in contact with

- even though he had fought it for a long time, you were always going to be a weakness in him and he had to embrace it

- he could protect you and space and time

Marvel Tag List: @dpaccione, @demonchick1, @karasong, @elisaa-shelby, @lov3vivian

#stephen strange x reader #stephen strange imagines #marvel imagines

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Ian Malcolm

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(When I tell you I love this man.)

- You and Ian meet when you attend the same STEM related conference; though it would be more accurate to say that you met while you attended a conference that he was lecturing at. 

- Nevertheless, you were both in the same room and wound up interfacing before the meeting was over; an interaction that would lead to a very interesting and at times exasperating relationship. 

- You found him fascinating; just like pretty much everyone else in the crowd, someone who had a big, entertaining personality in a field that so often lacked personality. You liked him the minute he opened his mouth. 

- He, in turn, thought that you were gorgeous and found himself falling for you the minute he locked eyes on you. He was looking forward to the moment he could slink off stage and find a way to talk to you. He did so right after he finished his speech and the applause settled down.

- He artfully found his way through the crowd and managed to convince the person beside you to switch their seat, taking it for himself after the starry eyed boy got up. 

- The two of you sat in silence for a little while before he leaned over and introduced himself, shaking your hand for a lingering moment before you both turned your attention back to the stage. 

- Another beat of silence passed between you before he leaned over and murmured a funny comment to you, reveling in the way you tried to hold back your smile. You spent the rest of the meeting trying to stifle your laughter as your new ironic commentator continued his jokes and flirtation. It certainly made the conference more enjoyable. 

- Once the shows over and everyone begins to clear out, he asks if you’re doing anything before asking if you’d like to go out and grab a couple of drinks or talk someplace. 

- That's how you find yourself seated next to him at the bar of a nice little restaurant, listening to him explain the chaos theory in detail and trying your best to digest everything that he’s saying; along with your drinks. 

- Along with his mathematical explanations, he also provides a lot of compliments and flirtation. You spend the evening feeling like the most important and sought after woman in the world

- Since you could easily; and very accurately, consider that little get together to be your first date, let’s move on to your first kiss. 

- It’s a date or two later that the two of you share it. You don’t want to give in too easily; even if you want to kiss him a lot sooner, so you play coy until you cant take it any more and the moment feels perfectly right. 

- Perfectly right seems to mean the middle of your kitchen after you invited him in for some coffee but hey, to each their own. 

- Nevertheless, you’d invited him into your home after one of your dates and gone to your kitchen to get the two of you your drinks. He’d followed you in and when you handed him his cup of coffee, he’d leaned in, pressed his lips to yours and given you a soft kiss.

- When he pulled away, he smiled at you, raised his mug, and gave you a somewhat teasing thank you before he lead the way into your living room. 

- One mug lead to another and you've been staying up late with each other ever since. 

- Ian suffers from a deplorable need to constantly be touching you. On top of that, he really isn’t too preoccupied with how other people feel so Pda is very common and performed very shamelessly.

- His arm is usually wrapped around you in some way, whether it be draped across the back of your chair, wrapped around your shoulders, or haphazardly thrown in front of you while a T. Rex is charging towards you.

- Tight hugs; which usually means that you’re being somewhat picked up since he’s so goddamn tall.

- Having your hair played with; oftentimes while he uses his flirtation on you.

- Knee squeezes. His hand belongs to your knee whenever he can’t wrap his arm around you.

- He loves cheek kisses. He loves the sort of showing off feel of them whenever you’re in front of someone else; and he just loves how soft and sweet they are.

- Slow, passionate kisses.

- Oftentimes, you wind up sleeping in the crook of his arm; usually with your head resting against his chest. That being said, the two of you also just cuddle haphazardly, snuggling in any which way you can, your limbs entangled and your bodies relaxed.

- He tends to call you honey or baby but, considering the fact that he calls his daughter Queen, my goddess and my inspiration, there’s room for a few more over dramatic pet names in your relationship.

- Waking up together. Ian's a math professor so, depending on both your schedules, you’re usually getting up around the same time. Although, if you get up earlier than he has to, he’d definitely; somewhat begrudgingly, adapt to your schedule.

- The two of you are attached at the hip a lot of the time. If you choose to go somewhere, he’s bound to follow; whether that be to keep you safe or just because he enjoys spending time with you is anyone’s guess.

- Working on separate things while you’re together. Sometimes couples just want to be in the same room while they do their own thing and I think that’s beautiful.

- Going shopping together. He’s a fan of clothes shopping, groceries, not so much.

- He likes trying out new things and going to all those different places that pop up in town so the two of you visit a lot of new restaurants and shops.

- Going out to dinner at nice restaurants. He’s the Rockstar of the math community so of course he’d want to take you to a few high end places; whenever he could afford it that is.

- Traveling around the world together. Whenever he has to go somewhere, he likes taking you with him.

- Being in the crowds of his conferences and public appearances. You like cheering him on and he appreciates the fact that you’re always there for him; even if he doesn’t necessarily need the support.

- Ian isn’t the greatest at keeping his word and he can get really caught up in his work to the point where he forgets important things, but he does always try his best to make things up to you whenever he can.

- Becoming close with Kelly. She enjoys living with you when her mother can’t be bothered and Ian’s bogged down by work. He loves both his girls dearly so the fact that you get along with each other is very important to him.

- You get to use the fact that you’re with Kelly as an excuse to go do stupid and somewhat childish things like visiting arcades and county fairs. Not that you couldn’t do that without her but I think you know what I mean.

- Movie nights; usually with him and Kelly.

- Museum dates.

- He genuinely thinks that your weird interests and quirks are endearing and fascinating. Other people would consider them strange, Ian considers them to be a compelling part of your personality.

- Seeing you talk about things that you’re passionate about is one of his favorite things in the world. He thinks that drive to learn and do and the intelligence that you possess is extremely sexy.

- Sometimes he’ll just look at you like he wants to eat you alive and it’s extremely problematic. Sir, we are in public.

- Lots of flirting. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been together, he still enjoys making you flustered and treating you like the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

- Unnecessary and frankly disrespectful noises. If he doesn’t stop making salacious growls at you, you’re gonna have to act up.

- Letting him explain all his different theories and findings to you. He loves showing off and having your undivided attention.

- Breaking rules together. If you aren’t keen on doing so, he’d definitely tease you for being a goody goody.

- He carries around a flask most of the time so the two of you can always just park somewhere and drink together whenever you feel like. Some of your best memories take place in his car, passing around a little metal container and talking about nothing in particular.

- Sarcasm drips from this mans every pore so you should try to get used to it. As annoying as it can be, it does make for some funny comments here and there.

- Snarky comments; whether they’re directed at you or someone else. Ian can be a bit of a bastard so don’t be surprised when his mouth opens and something mocking comes out. Just be prepared to occasionally slap his arm and stop him from being a total ass to people; even if it’s justified.

- Corny little jokes.

- Trying to keep him from verbally destroying people. He’s very verbal about his opinions so chances are, he’s going to speak his mind at one point or another and you might not want to be there when he does.

- He’s a voice of reason for just about everyone on Earth so if you need someone to tell you when you’re being stupid, he’s perfect for you.

- Sticking with him and being there for him after everything happens. He changes very drastically in the following years after meeting Mr. Hammond but you love him no less.

- No matter what people may think of him, you still defend him and proudly stand by his side. You’ve learned to ignore the opinion of others and not entertain their gossip.

- Helping him deal with the trauma that comes with almost getting fucking eaten.

- Ian doesn’t get jealous very often. He’s secure enough in himself and knows that you wouldn’t cheat on him, but every now and again, if you’re particularly close to like a colleague or something, he’ll show some signs of jealousy. Mainly, he’ll just ask a bunch of questions about them and your relationship; all the while trying to play it off as normal curiosity.

- Ian is incredibly protective of you; particularly after the events of Jurassic park. He’s willing to do whatever he can to keep you safe; even if it means endangering himself or doing something that scares the hell out of him.

- The two of you don’t fight extremely often; and you rarely have very serious fights, but you do have an argument from time to time. He may say something sarcastic or hurtful in the heat of the moment on occasion but he never means it and he always immediately apologizes.

- Very few fights last overnight. He’s usually so quick to apologize and try to sort things out that you’re back on track in no time. Under his egotistical shell, he’s really just a big softie who wants things to be alright between the two of you.

- He tells you that he loves you a perfectly average amount of times; not too much and not too little. And he loves hearing you say it back or just tell him that you love him for no real reason.

- Ian legitimately loves kids. Like he’s fully prepared to get married and start a family with you at any given moment. Believe me, you just say the words and he’ll pop the question.

#ian malcolm imagine #ian malcolm imagines #ian malcolm headcanons #ian malcolm headcanon #jurassic park imagine #jurassic park imagines #jurassic park headcanons #jurassic park headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie imagines #90s movie headcanons #90s movie headcanon

[zackcrazyvalentine]

i am the anon who asked earlier about the character limit ! i’m ready to send my ask now-

so could you write something about a female mc (or gender neutral it’s up to you !) that doesn’t take a shit form anyone ? like when someone bother she just “tsk” before threatening them and the bois are like “wtf that was kind of hot tho-“ .

i can see them just simping for her like we simp for them and it’s making me laugh-

also i’m not really sure if you write for them but a small reaction of perhaps side-characters to her ?

i’m really asking for too much skdkdjdksowkw-

thank for reading it and i hope i’m not bothering you ! ( ´ ▽ ` )

Alright, for this one, anon allowed me to pick some Twst guys to react to MC

But, ahem…. hope they’re (and y’all are) happy with the way I carried this out

Neige (& dwarves) + Che’nya are also included, as they wished to see side characters react to this MC too

Let’s get started (bc it’s loooong)~! 

HAPPY 1st ANNIVERSARY, EVERYONE!! 🥳🎉

-- -- --

OVERVIEW

Heartslabyul: Riddle is very surprised at her behavior and may scold her for it, but he secretly admires the confidence and will to stand up for herself. Trey is also taken aback, but well… if that helps her get through NRC, fine by him (he pretends not to see). Cater SIIIIIIMPS like duuuude THAT ATTITUDE IS WHAT HE DESIRES TO HAVE AGAINST HIS SISTERS (she’s his role model now). And man, do I even need to say what Ace and Deuce think? PLAIN FUN, and they simp, Deuce a little more than Ace.

Savanaclaw SIMPS and simps HARD. Ruggie and Leona due to females in Afterglow Savana being overall more respected. Not to mention IRL lionesse are in charge of hunting and female hyenas are the dominant ones in pairs. Jack I see as someone who admires people who are strong and can stand for themselves, and a no bullshit MC is wow… but perhaps he thinks maybe she could be a little more polite.

Octavinelle is a little hard to read. Azul first is very surprised and a bit offended, but once he finds out she acts this way towards everyone and anyone… Be ready to become his 3rd bodyguard lol. Leech Twins adore to annoy her, Floyd provokes her more with tugs and shoves while Jade can just throw ANY comment her way with that smile to trigger the instinct; she’s become their little plaything of sorts.

Scarabia: Kalim is SHOOKED!!!! The first time he hears her comments leaves him with a surprised pikachu face. Jamil is startled a bit, but man… SIMPS, and is like "you speak my inner thoughts".

Pomefiore: Vil is also VERY surprised, but admires the way she so willingly defends herself with only words and harsh glares (anger looks very pretty on her). Rook SIMP, yuuup. He's amazed at how just one comment and death stare from her has magic wielders cowering in fear, gets goosebumps from excitement when those are directed at him. Epel simps too! Like DAMN HE WANTS TO STAND UP FOR HIMSELF LIKE THAT!!! No more stupid etiquette classes, time to be tough! (Vil quickly turns his plan to dirt tho lol)

Ignihyde: Idia is ?????? At times, he's very intimidated by her, but on other occasions he's ready to talk back (this especially when he's communicating through the tablet). Ortho is shook, too. For someone who comes from another world and is scared by many possible scenarios in this Wonderland, they're surprisingly brave. He likes her! Get ready to be his Big sis

Oh man, Diasomnia… Malleus is surprised when he first sees the change of attitude, since she's nice in his nightly visits to Ramshackle, but very soon he'll be like "I like this human" Slowly becomes her simp.  Lilia is VERY amused by her behavior and sometimes likes to provoke her. As soon as a threat is thrown his way, however, he'll be ready to throw one back as he smiles brightly. Silver is surprised, they all cower before her, how?! He may or may not simp, but he absolutely looks up to her (wishes to be more assertive like that). Boy oh boy… Sebek… SHOOKED; just try to say something rude to his Young Master, get ready for the loudest "EXCUSE ME?!" and following rant. Shooked and shooked TO THE CORE.

ALL the staff are very irritated by her antics, but the ones more vocal about it that have a little back and forth with her are Crowley and Crewel. Sam just laughs it off, besides it's rare for her to threaten him (mainly bc he gives special discounts for her).

BOY...RSA… Neige is SHOOKED, but rudeness never stopped him from making friends and pull a smile out of them (well, ya better stop right there bc she's ready to PUNCH). Needless to say, majority of dwarves are surprised too… except, Grant who just chuckles and says like Jamil "speaking my inner thoughts".  Che'nya acts as if it's the most normal thing, doesn't flinch back or anything ("we're all mad in our own ways~ it's the norm here")

In the end, all of them simp for her, one way or another~ (and let her get away with a handful of stuff bc simps)

Heartslabyul

"Aren't you the cutest little thing~? Look at your lil' nose sniffing my finger so adorably!!" The [color] haired girl gushed at the hedgehog in her hand, carefully petting its colorful quills.

Someone sighed in irritation at her behavior, "Stop that! We're not allowed to pamper the hedgehogs like that, so cut it off!"

[Color] eyes narrowed at the intruder, "And who here says I care what you, or the rules, say? They're animals, pets practically. You need to show them affection for them to live long, happy lives, dumbass."

At the small scene, Trey interrupted, “Let's please act accordingly. Come on, we need help painting the roses." The 3rd year signaled the other Heartslabyul student to follow.

"What?! No, not fair! How come she's not getting punished for this when we get scolded for it?!" He raised his voice.

"Hey now, leave [Name]-chan alone, she isn’t bothering anyone. Be a good kouhai and listen to Trey-senpai. Remember vice dorm leader is just as respected as dorm leader here." Cater cut in, trying to somehow make things lighter.

"Bull-!" Before the guy could even finish his sentence, Riddle appeared.

"What seems to be the matter here? At this rate, if you keep getting distracted with unimportant things, we won't have our preparations ready." The redhead followed their gazes to the girl sitting on the floor surrounded by a rainbow of hedgehogs.

"Ah, I understand." Riddle nodded.

"Thank-!" However, the student was once more cut off by the 2nd year.

"[Surname] was appointed by me personally as hedgehog caretaker. Her activities consist of cleaning cages, feeding, and the important task of pampering them with affection and love." Heartslabyul's dorm head explained, "We do play croquet frequently, and many 1st years don't treat our animals superb. Not to mention, it is said the Queen of Hearts herself would pamper her hedgehog just like [Surname] is doing… Admirable, don’t you think?"

"Are we clear now?" Slate grey eyes looked sternly at his dormmate.

Defeated, the boy accepted. "Yes, dorm leader Rosehearts."

"Go help Cater and Trey with rose duty." Riddle dismissed the boy.

On his way out, a certain troublesome 1st year made an indirect comment.

"That's why you get informed before complaining about things~" Ace teased.

Deuce smacked his friend on the back of the head, "Shut it, we committed the same mistake when we first saw [Name] baby talking the hedgehogs."

"H-Hey! There was no need to reveal that!"

Savanaclaw

Full cafeteria, the worst scenario ever. Not to mention both [Name] and Grim were starving.

So, when she saw an opportunity to get in line for the (oddly) short line for [fav. food], she did. However…

“What the fuck’s up with you?! Just because you’re a girl ya think ya get special treatment, dumbass?!” Some random rude student said.

Oh, bad move, idiot.

All [Name] had to do was throw an icy glare their way and turn away slowly for the boy to tremble in his socks.

Human and Grim picked their full and finally headed to any empty spot available, which resulted in them sitting with the Savanaclaw students, who watched the scene unfold.

“[Name]-san, that’s some temper you’ve got-” Ruggie began talking, but was immediately silenced by the same icy stare.

“To hell with that, I am hungry and ready to destroy the world, so better keep your mouth shut to see your future.” The girl grumbled, taking the first bite of her precious meal.

Three pairs of ears flattened in shock, looking at one another to agree on what they experienced right now.

“Wait a second…” Ruggie thought, breath hitching after receiving such cold glare.

Jack kept a watchful eye as he drank his water, strange warmth crawled up his face. “That was…”

Leona, for once, looked awake enough. Green eyes with a tinge of respect reflected in them, teasing smile slowly developing on his face. “Seems like the herbivore has some fight in her… Nice, very nice…”

“That was… very attractive…” The trio gulped down whatever they were eating, before averting their gaze elsewhere to hide the blush. Except Leona, he chuckled silently before looking down at his plate to recover from the little display of power from her part.

Meanwhile, the otherworldly student and cat monster shared a confused look. “Weirdos… Do they enjoy seeing me eat? Yeah, not sitting down with them again.” [Name] decided.

Octavinelle

"Keobi-chan~!"

"Not again…" [Name] grumbled between teeth. Just as she thought she was out and away from the whole Octavinelle trio, these two come again for her.

"Let's go, koebi-chan! Azul wasn’t done talking with you~” Floyd grabbed onto her arm and tugged.

“You two never know when to stop, or do you?” Grim swiped at Floyd’s hand as best he could from the girl’s shoulder.

Then came the chuckle she hated most, that instantly ignited that fight or flight instinct in her. “Please, Floyd is simply stating the truth. Azul is adamant in speaking to [Surname]-san, it’s only expected of her to allow him some time. After all, he was so gracious to lend his help when she most needed.” Jade linked his arm with her free on and began walking.

“Oi! Get your hands off me! I’ve heard enough from Azul! I’ve declined the offer more than enough times for it to get through his head!” The [hair color] stood her ground as much she could, but the two towering eels still dragged her to their destination.

Floyd laughed, “Little shrimp fighting for her life when she’s already lost~” He shot Jade a look and his twin immediately knew what he wanted to do. They lifted her from the ground and began swaying side to side.

“What the hell?! Let me down, let me go! I’ve had enough of you! We’ve helped Azul more than enough already!” [Name] and Grim were left to flair and yell more protests while the twins chuckled and laughed at their predicament.

Eventually, they arrived at Octavinelle and the two-halves-of-a-whole students were plopped down onto the couch inside Azul’s V.I.P. office. The tweels left them with those sinister pointy teethed smiles of theirs, sending chills down the duo’s spines.

“Now now, [Name]-san, Grim-san, do keep your voice down. I’ve got a deal much better than our last offer. Hear me out, now would you?” Azul spoke, suave and sleazy as ever.

“No, cut it out already! Just accept I won’t-!” Her complaints were interrupted by the octomer’s firm statement.

“One meal!” After noticing he had their attention, the dorm leader continued, “One free meal for the two of you each day, along with some Madol… All for [Name]-san’s intimidation services and Grim-san cleaning dishes.”

“Make it TWO meals and it’s a deal!” Grim quickfired.

“NO! No, no!” The [color] eyed refuted. She leaned close to Ashengrotto over the desk, eyes narrow and eyebrows furrowed, “...Make it two free meals AND drinks daily, with a nice pay… and throw in some deluxe tuna cans from time to time…”

Grim perked up at that, eyes shifting from human to merman as they stared each other down to see who relented first.

Azul sighed, “Very well…” A gloved hand came forward, “Have we got a deal?”

[Eye color] looked into baby blue, before nodding and shaking his hand. “A deal it is, but” [Name] leaned even closer, right on the gray haired’s face, “Let it be known that just you fail once on giving the pay and it’s over, Ashengrotto.”

He snorted, “Oh, no need to worry about that, I always hold onto my end of the contract.” Taunting gaze mocked the [hair color], “The thing is, can you?”

“This damn Octavinelle people..!” [Name] felt fire light up her veins from anger and irritation at his words.

Scarabia

“Grim, look! We once more have a delicious cream cheese for you to enjoy with crackers!” The ever excitable Kalim exclaimed, reading a pair of crackers to feed Grim.

Before his hand could get any close to the scared cat’s face, [skin tone] hads grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Kalim, how many more times do I have to tell you?! Stop that!” An exasperated sigh followed her words. She let go of his arm.

Kalim (and pretty much all of Scarabia) looked at her. “No, not those big round cute ruby eyes…” The girl thought, feeling herself relent already. “Only for you… only for this ray of sunshine will I try to be less on the fence…”

[Name] cleared her throat, “W-Why don’t you… try asking Grim properly if he would like some first, instead of just shoving the food in his mouth!” An awkward giggle left her lips. “Was that better?! That did not sound better, at all! No!! It was harsh!” 

Silence carried on afterwards, making her feel even more awkward and nervous of her actions. There’s a first time for everything.

“She’s right on that. You understand, don’t you, Kalim?” Jamil broke the silence, turning everyone’s eyes to him now. “As host, you should offer your visits amenities correctly, not force them upon them.” The dark haired boy remained focused on his plate of curry while he informed his dormmate.

“Oh! Of course, of course!” The dorm leader snapped out of his zoning out, “Apologies! Grim, would you like to try the cream cheese?” Kalim recovered his pep, bringing close the plate of cheese and crackers to Grim.

“Ah… No, thank you…” The monster declined. “However… I would like to try the dates you have over there.”

“Sure, no worries! Try as much food as you like! This banquet is for everyone to enjoy, after all!” Just like that, everyone’s spirits were lifted, and the party returned to its full swing.

From across the table, Jamil threw the [hair color] a smirk and a nod. She looked away with a faint blush on her cheeks.

Pomefiore

“She dares show her face here, dressed like that?”

“And with a stinky, dirty raccoon hanging from her shoulder.”

“As always, these pretentious idiots…” [Name] tried to steel herself, taking deep breaths as she carried on towards the Pomefiore common room. Vil asked for her presence here for some idea he had in mind and wanted to carry on.

“Fuh-nyah, this place always smells like perfume… Has me sneezing all over, eugh.” Grim rubbed his nose to ease the itching.

The girl giggled lightly, petting her companion. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the smell in a few seconds.”

“Ah, Trickster [Name], Monsieur Hirsute! Bienvenue à Pomefiore!” Rook welcomed them, as colorful as ever.

“[N-Name]? You’ve been… summoned here, as well?” Epel seemed surprised to see his friends here.

Vil stood up from the throne, “And just in time you’re both here. Could’ve done with a few extra minutes of head start, but at least you’re here and didn't arrive late.” The elegant 3rd year went over to explain his idea to the 1st years.

However, as the dorm head explained, the comments continued…

“Seriously, can’t she take the hint she’s not wanted here?”

“As a girl, she should know to take better care for herself.”

“Alright that’s it.” The Ramshackle prefect took a very deep breath and interrupted Vil, “Yeah, uh, apologies for cutting you off, but let me take care of some matters.” Turning around, the [color] haired looked over at the group that kept saying unasked opinions.

“Hey, you pompous people with deliriums of grandiose!” At the start of her screaming, Vil and Rook braced for the worse while Epel drew a very big smirk.

Everyone kept their dignified faces, sure that their dorm leader and vice head would have their backs.

“I dress bad? I don’t take care of my skin, nails, lips, hair? Grim isn’t always smelling nice?”

“Hey! What with that, [Name]?!”  “Shush, you…”

“Just because I’m a girl you dare assume what I should act like?!” She scoffed, “Well, let me see you survive in a world far different than your own, disoriented and with no means to go back, live on a tight budget along with your equally as disoriented monster friend, with the only clothes you own being very mistreated and old uniforms students left in a rundown dorm!”

Everyone looked at her and murmured.

One of the students spoke up, practically laughing at her face, “What? Want us to feel pity for you? Sounds to me like you’re not trying hard enough.”

Grim himself was ready to burn this scum to a crisp, but thankfully, someone else stepped in to defend their friends.

“Oh? Like you’ve clearly not been doing?” Vil glared at the boy harshly. “Don’t think just because you’re good looking you have an immediate pass to be a student of Pomefiore, of NRC. Your grades are lacking, and for someone in this dorm to be that terrible in alchemy is ruinous. Seriously, an F in potion making? You strive to be as resourceful and tenacious as the Beautiful Queen by not being able to brew even a simple potion?”

The mob cowered back, shocked at their dorm head speaking that way to them.

“Doesn’t feel good to have yer flaws n’ failures spoken of, eh?” Epel yelled from a few miles back. He could see Schoenheit stiffen at the use of his distinct accent, but the farmer boy could care less in this moment… and so did Vil.

Rook stepped over with a friendly smile, placing a hand on the student's shoulder and on Vil’s. “Please rest the case, lest we want our hearts and faces wrinkle up from anger and stress.” The hunter squeezed the boy’s shoulder, applying pressure on one of the nerves to get the message across. In case that was not enough, narrow green eyes spared him a side glance full of ill-intent, “Any more comments like that, and your heart will be carved out of your rib cage and go in a jewelry chest to display as a trophy.” Was his message.

“Y-Yes, Rook-senpai!” The mob immediately answered and made their way out to somewhere else.

The actor rubbed the bridge of his nose at the scene, “I apologize on behalf of my dorm, those types of comments are absolutely not tolerated, but there seem to be more potatoes to wrangle than what I imagined.” He sighed, “But anyways! Let us continue with our original plans. [Name], Grim, Epel, follow me. We shall start with having you all take a nice bath and do proper skincare...and furcare, I suppose.”

“Oh, I would very much like some hypermosturizing serums and a bathbomb or oils to help destress, please!” The [hair color] said.

Vil chuckled a bit, “After that, you need all the lavender oils in the water.”

“Wait, does that mean…?!” Epel became unsettled and looked at Grim.

The monster finished the lilac haired boy’s thought, “We’re gonna end up smelling like a potpourri or somethin’?!”

Rook came behind them, pushing them lightly forward to walk in the other two’s direction. “Come now, moniseurs! Bath time is a great time to spend relaxing and planning your activities for the day!” 

The rowdy duo only groaned at his words.

Ignihyde

“Oh, [Name] [Surname]-san, that was an amazing play!” Ortho congratulated while spectating the game going on between you and his brother.

The girl chuckled, “Thanks, Ortho… Did that specifically to show your brother not to underestimate a magicless human’s abilities in games such as this.” Sizzling could be heard coming from the older Shroud as he silently fumed, but his flaming hair betrayed his silence.

“That’s right, get mad and lose your temper. It’ll be easier to defeat you like that… defeat you once more.” [Color] lips turned into a mocking smile. “Talk shit, get hit, bruh!”

Idia desperately played his following moves, a supposed combo to take you down considerably. “I don’t believe you’ll keep that smile in your face for long.”

She chuckled, ominously now, “Ohoho, I believe I will be keeping this smile… and victory with me~!” The 1st year kept laughing as she played her last strategy, leading to his defeat for the 6th? 10th? time today.

The dorm head took a deep breath before he could yell his frustration out, hair turning a shade of dull red, telling the other occupants of the room of his temper.

“How’s that for underestimating the skills of a human, Idia? Tired or eating your dirt yet or not? Told ya this would only lead to absolute defeat-!” Before [Surname] could boast some more, Idia stood up and dropped himself on his bed, back turned to them all.

The robot boy floated over to the enraged 3rd year. “Big brother? Your vitals are erratic, heartbeat is quick and body temperature is on the raise. Would you like some help relaxing?”

“I believe it’s better to let him be, Ortho.” The girl reassured. “Wanna play a game with me? See if you can beat me?” She suggested.

The android quickly cheered up, “I would love to!”

- Few minutes later -

[Color] eyes stared at victorious play.

5 times… It had only been 30 minutes and already 5 times… She was beaten by the younger Shroud 5 times already!

Ortho smiles at her (or at least she assumed, with him keeping his mouth coveron). “This is entertaining, [Name] [Surname]-san! Can we play one more time?” Those innocent yellow eyes looked up at her tired, irritated ones.

“I- uuuh… S-Sure, Ortho..!” A strained smile stretched her lips.

Idia sat down somewhere near, teasing pointy smile on his face now. “How does it feel, [Surname]?”

“Shut the hell up, Shroud, you’re no one to speak like that.” The girl whispered through gritted teeth.

Diasomia

Blah, blah, blah… chatter, chatter, chatter…Loud booming voice annoying everyone around.

“Alright, damn it all!” [Name] slammed her hand on the table. “For the love of all that's holy, shut the hell up, Sebek!!”

Everyone was stunned for a moment at the outburst, Silver jumped awake at the shouting.

Sebek looked at her with the most indignant look, “Excuse you?! That is something extremely rude to say! Even more so because you interrupted my conversation with the Young Master!”

“What do you even mean?! You interrupted my conversation with Malleus in an even more impolite way first!” She reminded her fellow 1st year.

Zigvolt scoffed, “Only because you don’t possibly have anything of interest to speak with Master Malleus.”

“Sebek I swear to god!”

“Silence, human! Stop pestering us!”

“You are the one doing the pestering here!”

And just like that, both students began bickering.

Silver looked at Lilia, “Don’t you think we should do something about this?”

The old fae sighed into his tea cup, placing it back down before taking a sip. “We absolutely must, Sebek’s voice was already inflicting a headache, now we have... that…” Red eyes looked at the brash underclassmen arguing.

Malleus, meanwhile, rubbed his temples at their antics.

“Children, stop it now or else-” Vanrouge noticed how his words were going unnoticed, so he decided to raise his voice some. “Children-” More shouting, silencing his call for attention.

“Children!” Lilia’s voice boomed around the room, along with the stomping of his heel on the stone floor. The surround sound effectively made the misbehaving students shut up.

“Thank you.” He said with a closed eyes smile, “Now, to settle your senseless screaming, why don’t we try asking Malleus himself what he believes happened, hm?” The bat suggested, turning to look into lime eyes to urge his master to speak up.

“Oh..! Hmm… Well… It is true Sebek interrupted the conversation I was having with the child of man,” [Name] looked at her friend with an I-told-you-so smile, “And I disagree with him, [Surname] was telling me very interesting things about her life and experiences in this Wonderland.” That made the girl stand even prouder.

“However,” The pistachio haired male looked at his superior with hope in his eyes, “I agree with his comment on how interrupting conversations the way [Surname] did is very rude.” Now it was his turn to boast a little. “But let’s not forget he interrupted us first, and therefore is rude himself.” Sebek deflated at that.

Lilia clapped his hands with a bright smile, “Problem solved! Now,” The fae looked at the tall 1st year, “Sebek, dear, [Name] is our guest today, treat her with respect. She is Malleus’ specially invited guest, let her spend her time occupying our leader’s time as she pleases. He invited her for that reason, after all.”

“U-Understood, Lilia-sama…” Zigvolt agreed against his will.

“Thank you, Lilia!” [Name] thanked at the same time Sebek spoke.

“Very well, let us enjoy our tea time in peace now.” Finally, the youthful soul sat down and picked up his cup to take a much needed sip of the amber liquid. “Young ones these days, I swear...”

NRC Staff

Shouting and yelling resounded around the meeting hall, leading Mozus to rub the bridge of his nose to try and ease the oncoming headache.

“Hello-!” Vargas was cut off.

“Not now, Professor Vargas, I need to knock some sense into this crow!” The 1st year yelled at the muscular P.E. teacher.

He sat down near Trein with a sigh, “They’re at it again this week?”

“Yes, they are…” The old man grunted.

“Been at it for 20 minutes now, can’t believe it.” Crewel tapped his finger on the wooden table in irritation, “Headmaster Crowley should already relent and give her more allowance if it means we can get our meetings done!”

“Absolutely not,” Trein disagreed, “[Surname] should learn to handle her finances better, budget things appropriately and spend the least on useless things.”

Crewel let out a single mocking laugh, “Really now? Have you heard what biweekly amount of money he gives her?! It’s not even enough to buy a steady supply of meals from the shop for a week!”

Soon enough, the two teachers joined their respective sides in the battle of Crowley vs. [Name], while Vargas watched with the most uncomfortable look.

And, after a good more minutes of shouting, the last call was given…

“You know what?! I’m done!!” The [color] haired girl made her way to the exit, “It’s always “Because I am so kind” blah blah blah! But you never do anything to help me!” She made a bad impression of the Director on purpose.

“It’s not only me in the dorm, it’s also Grim! And he’s a sizable cat, he needs to eat properly and plenty, too!” She turned around before leaving, “Seriously, Headmaster, I don’t know anymore how to scream at you that we need help! We’re sleeping on dirt every night, we’re breathing mold and dust everyday inside the rundown dorm! We need food and clothes and bedsheets and hygiene products!”

[Name] had to take a deep breath before saying her last words, “If you’re not going to help me search for a way back home, then… at least help me make that crumbling building feel like home…” With that, the heavy door shut close.

The young girl quickly made her way out of the building, trying her best to keep her emotions at bay and not let them overflow. Out of habit, or maybe it was her consciousness trying to search for comfort, her feet carried her to Mr.S’s Mystery Shop.

The simple ringing of the bell signaling a new customer already made her feel better.

“Welcome, little devil! What can I help you with today?” Sam greeted with his typical energy.

The [hair color] sighed in relief, making her way to the counter. “Hello, Sam.”

“Aaah, another fruitless fight with the Headmaster?” The shopkeep inquired, identifying that tired tone in her voice.

“Indeed…” She let head lay upon her crossed arms as the rest of her body leaned on the counter. “I ask myself why I even keep trying it, nothing will ever change…”

A shadow friend pat her head to try and comfort her.

“Because you’re perseverant and a fighter, and wish to have a school life as nice as the one your friends in established dorms live. It’s not an unjustified fight.” The mysterious clerk said, full confidence in his words.

“You believe so?” Curious [color] eyes looked at his moving figure.

“Of course! Everyone else has a nice room to sleep in, why shouldn’t you? Besides, the Headmaster decided to take you in, a responsibility he can’t ignore.” He placed a small mug in front of your head, “Go ahead, take a drink, it’ll help you in more ways than you can think of.”

Carefully unwinding from her position, a hand took the mug and brought it under her nose. One sniff and the girl could tell this was [fav. drink]. “Sam, I’m-! How did- How did you know this is my favorite?!” A pleasant surprise that brought a smile to her lips.

“You always buy it, guess you must really like it.” Magenta eyes watched as she took a sip, “Comfort food and drinks are perfect after an upsetting experience.”

[Name] threw him a tender smile, “Thank you, Sam. All you do for me and Grim is very appreciated… Don’t think I don’t notice those special discounts.”

All he did was wink at her as he turned to welcome a new customer.

Royal Sword Academy

Helping put up a stage was not an easy task. Could anyone really blame her for being so mad at everyone who got in her way after being overworked like that?

Who knows how many times she yelled at people to hurry up and move away from her path already.

And it just so happened a playful cat decided to scare the soul out of the 1st year at the worst moment, just as she was trying to take a short power nap.

“Found mew (pronounce it as m-you-w pls)!” A floating head and apparently dismembered arms appeared before [Name], hands falling on her shoulders.

She screamed bloody hell at the boy, “WHAT THE F-CK, CHE’NYA?!?!” A coughing fit followed due to the sudden loud yelp, “That was,” Cough, “My heart I just spat out!”

Meanwhile, the RSA student laughed his head off at the startled girl.

It irritated her, “And what do you think you’re doing laughing like that?! I could’ve tore a vocal cord or actually have a heart attack, you dumb cat!”

Oh… Never in his life had he been called that, at least not that he remembered.

They remained in silence for a while. 

Eventually, Alchemi giggled once more “Aha~, nice to see you’re mad too! Told nya it was the norm here~”

The [hair color] nodded in mock agreement, “Yeah, can finally see all of you are damn BONKERS!”

~°~  ~°~

This boy… what is his problem?! Suddenly approaching a stranger all smiles and good vibes? [Name] knew this was a twisted world, but this was plain creepy…

So, of course, the fight or flight instinct kicked off.

Yanking her hands out of his hold, [color] orbs sharpened to the meanest glare she could muster right then and there. “What do you think you’re doing? I am not a princess, and I definitely am not your princess! That’s way too creepy to tell someone you’ve just crossed eyes with.”

A multitude of gasps was heard. “Ah, that’s right, he has tiny friends with him…” [Name] could only inwardly sigh and groan.

Neige himself gasped too, what a rude person!

A little giggle was heard, “That’s exactly what I wanted to tell him.” Grant whispered, amused by the whole scene.

“Alright, okay, uh… Gotta go now. Pleasure, or not, to meet you. Goodbye.” The NRC student walked past the strange students. “And I thought there was nothing crazier than NRC… B O I   was I wrong…”

The dwarves looked at their stunned friend. 

Dominic tugged at his pant leg, “Neige, are you alright? Just let her be, I’m sure she reacted like that due to being cautious about strangers.”

“Yes, I’m fine…But,” Round chocolate eyes remained on her retreating form, “Nothing has ever stopped me from befriending even the grumpiest of people! Or has it, Grant?” The brunet smiled at his friend.

“I suppose not- Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?!” The redhead complained while the rest laughed merrily alongside LeBlanche.

-- -- --

THE MADWOMAN DID IT OMGGGGGGG MY EEEEEEYES ASDFGHIMKLF

HAPPY 1ST ANNIVERSARY!!! What other way than to celebrate with LOOONG request including most, if not all, of the Twst characters!!

LET US SHARE MANY MORE MEMORIES TOGETHER!! CHEERS TO US ALL!!!

(P.S. OMG if you see shifting between fem pronouns, they/them pronouns and "you" stuff... PLEASE FORGIVE ME!! My brain got a bit confused in a part! Hopefully I corrected it all)

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #octavinelle #scarabia #pomefiore #ignihyde #diasomnia #NRC staff #RSA #royal sword academy #female reader #fem!reader #funny #heartslabyul x reader #savanaclaw x reader #octavinelle x reader #scarabia x reader #pomefiore x reader #ignihyde x reader #diasomia x reader #rsa x reader #zack writes #March 2021 special #request pavillion

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XIII

Part I - - - - - - Part II - - - - - - - - - - - -  Part XI - - - - - - Part XII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Cody waited impatiently in the entrance room to the hall of healing, ignoring the surprising number of Jedi who drifted by aimlessly. 

As far as he could tell they were coming in just to stare at him, make meaningless small chat with the tight lipped receptionist, glance around, approach as if almost to talk with him, then drift out again without having accomplished anything.

Embarrassingly, it took him several minutes to realize why they were behaving so oddly. In his defense, a) he didn’t have much of a baseline for Jedi behavior in temple. 

And b) when numerous vod had approached him today to try and find out ‘why the General had missed last night’s conference,’ and ‘why Cody had been unreachable for large chunks of time, that was seriously unlike him,’ and ‘why had Cody gone to the Jedi Temple and stayed there for hours upon hours yesterday morning,’ and ‘why haven’t you taken your bucket off today,’ and ‘why has no one gotten a comm reply from General Kenobi since Ghost Company went drinking,’ and ‘why isn’t Skywalker answering comms,’ and ‘why do the Jedi seem so riled up today,’ and ‘why are you and Rex so tense,’ and, ‘are you going to the temple now,’ and ‘what the kriff happened to my desk,’ well.

They just asked directly.

He had grown so inured to unfamiliar Jedi silently willing him to answer their own jedi-variations on ‘What the fuck is going on with Obi-Wan’ that he almost didn’t notice when Windu came to stand next to him. 

“Here as a visitor?” He asked the Master stiffly. He was almost feeling wound-up enough to fight for his place in line. 

“No, I’m waiting to speak with Skywalker,” he replied, temporarily placating the Commander.

An unfamiliar Jedi Cadet with a short braid on the side of their head walked in, attempting to look casual and failing miserably. The small furred padawan stared nervously at Cody and Mace, and actually managed to open their mouth. Windu raised a brow. They immediately snapped their jaw shut, bowed, and scurried out. 

Cody watched through the window as they joined a group of even tinier Jedi. After a brief conversation with lots of waving limbs from all parties, the group turned in unison to make eye contact with Cody’s visor. Cody inclined his head slightly. They all ran off, practically tripping over their robes.

“Wasn’t sure if the eyebrow would work,” Mace muttered. “It’s been 50/50 today.”

“I’ve just been hiding whenever I can,” Cody confessed.

Mace winced. “My apologies for the delay in putting out a statement. We’re still trying to work out - an adequate substitute. At least for the upcoming campaign.”

Cody nodded, “I assumed as much."

“I assure you, we’ve taken your thoughts into consideration. You’ll receive a notice of the Council’s final decision before we send out a mass bulletin.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Fortunately, finally, Anakin stomped into the atrium, followed closely behind by the Nautolan soul healer. 

“Ah, Knight Skywalker, do you have a moment? I’d like to have a word with you.” 

Anakin startled at Mace’s words, but recovered quickly when he noticed the slow moving crowd just outside the door. “Of course, Master Windu,” he said with a bow.

“Commander Cody, would you care to follow me?” Aerdo said with a smile.

Cody and Anakin exchanged grim nods as they passed one another, following the Masters in opposite directions.

- - - - -

- - - - -

“The situation in the expansion region is deteriorating rapidly. We had already intended to send the 212th to moderate the situation after Umbara’s latest declaration. But increasing separatist activity in the sector means that we cannot afford to delay or under-commit. The hyperlanes are being taken, and with them, republic control over crucial supply lines is now threatened. We must deploy the third system army, the day after tomorrow at the very latest. They’re our best equipped force for the situation, not to mention the only uncommitted division large enough to make a meaningful impact. There is no viable alternative.”

Anakin nodded at Mace uncertainly. He had been keeping up with troop movements before everything, and, trying to keep himself sane, had even checked the news in between cutting off the Chancellor and visiting Obi-Wan only to find him unresponsive again. But...why exactly was the Master of the Order telling him this?

“You’re not seriously thinking of sending Obi-Wan? I mean even if he miraculously wakes up tomorrow...”

Master Windu sighed. “No, of course not. Which is why I’ve asked you here.”

“You...can’t be asking me to lead them?” Anakin asked, feeling lightheaded.

“I admit, the council did consider it. You are the one of our most successful Generals. Not to mention the one most familiar with Obi-Wan’s troops. Between the fact that the 501st is also needed on Umbara and every other Jedi’s unwillingness to step in to the position, your name came up multiple times.” Mace pinched the bridge of his nose while Anakin stared uncertainly.

“No, I have not brought you here for a promotion. I want to speak with you about your opinions on candidates for the 212th...as well as to ask if you believe yourself capable of leading the 501st without...losing yourself. I’ve finished reviewing your civilian casualties and consider your observed losses- tolerable, at least.”

Windu looked exhausted at having to say that out-loud and Anakin fidgeted, biting his tongue.

“As long as you are under the supervision of another Master, and if you swear to me on Obi-Wan’s life that you will report yourself if you find yourself slipping- I leave the command of the 501st up to you.”

Anakin felt queasy. How could he help Obi-Wan if he was half a galaxy away, on what sounded like a long, protracted campaign. If he refused to go, that would leave both the 501st and the the 212th without their generals. Or...was this how he could help? Carry one of his burdens for him? He was more than ready to lead! Probably! He had been leading! Part of him longed to charge into battle immediately- wash off his helplessness with blood. Anakin didn’t know how to fix Obi-Wan mind, but he was good at fighting, good at war.

And that thought brought back the ever-lingering cold. How could he trust himself? His...violence... it might have driven Obi-Wan to suicide. He still didn’t know! And if he left he wouldn’t know for months! He promised Obi-Wan not to kill again- how the kark was he supposed to do that while being a General?! Did ordering people to kill count, or was that worse?

“I need to think about the 501st ,” Anakin whispered.

Master Windu nodded. “I appreciate that. You have until dawn tomorrow to decide- in the mean time, let’s discuss the 212th.”

“Who’s the top choice?”

“Master Pong Krell. He’s actually our only choice that wouldn’t require reorganizing other assignments significantly.”

“He’s...a good duelist.” Anakin said, trying to think about what he knew of the Besalisk, “What division does he command?”

Windu grimaced. “That’s actually why he’s the best choice... Of the troops he’s had direct command over since the start of the war, over 85% are dead. He’s never lost a battle but...”

Anakin closed his eyes, “Right.”

Plenty of excellent fighters among the Jedi made terrible generals. He’d have to look over the Besalisk’s military record- it could just be terrible luck. Plo Koon had lost an entire division to the Malevolence, but he still was one of the best.

“When you say he’s the only choice...”

“Most Masters I’ve breached the subject with were extremely reluctant at the thought- I don’t want to force anyone into a position beyond what they’re willing to handle.”

“I guess that makes sense...but it seems...off?” Anakin trying to articulate his uneasiness.

“Our method of ‘promotion’ has a tendency to elevate those who should perhaps not be taking on more responsibilities.” Mace acknowledged grimly.

“Because... good Jedi aren’t really ok with war. And you’re only promoting Generals who are fine with the whole thing?” he said thinking of himself. “Or can’t say no?” he added bitterly, thinking of Obi-Wan.

“It’s not an ideal situation” Mace agreed, lines around his eyes growing.

Anakin scrubbed a hand to his face. He had been doing more thinking about the ‘concept’ of war and violence in the last two days than he had the last two years of actual fighting. There hadn’t been much point before, war was happening regardless of his feelings. Not to mention the fact that there wasn’t time to quibble over these sorts of things in the field. As much as he was desperate not to disappoint Obi-Wan again, he didn’t really enjoying being forced to consider this stuff now. It made him...itchy.

“Have you considered just putting Cody in charge of everything?” Anakin finally asked.

“Of course, but the Senate would never approve...”

- - - - -

- - - - -

- - - - -

“...With those few exceptions, the only major thing left to restock is perishables. But that’s more your department than mine, sir.” 

Cody finished his report. 

Obi-Wan continued to lay still, looking frail in the large medi-bed. The restraints made the image that much worse.

“Fuck.” 

Cody swore and, for the first time since crawling out of bed that morning, yanked off his helmet.

“General. General Kenobi. Obi-Wan can you hear me.” he said hoarsely, leaning over the bed.

The General didn’t move.

“Obi-Wan if you can hear me- try and shift around a little bit. Blink. Do anything. It’s me- Commander Cody. I- please, sir. Just do anything, they said you- you did this on purpose so please confirm you’re in there. I’m- shipping off soon and, I- I just need to know that you’re going to be ok. Please. Anything.”

Cody hovered absolutely motionless, watching for any sign of response. But Obi-Wan continued as he had been, lifeless but for his slow and steady breaths. 

Cody collapsed to his knees, vision spotty. Gasping for air, he rested his head on the side of the bed, desperately trying to pull himself together. 

After several long moments he pulled of a glove, tentatively reaching for Obi-Wan’s hand. It felt cold.

“General, if this is some sort of- dark force attack twitch your hand, ok? Please. We’re trying to understand- we’re here for you, just clench your hand if you’re under attack and someone will come to help.”

Cody paced his breaths to Obi-Wan’s, pulse slowing down to match the wrist in his grasp.

“Obi-Wan, why are you doing this? I don’t understand.” Cody rasped. 

“You- you told me I was one of your best friends. You- I don’t know why you think so highly of me but please you have to know I think the universe of you. We all do, but I really do. You don’t have to fight anymore if you don’t want to, we’ll protect you, you know that. You have to know that. But I can’t- I can’t imagine the rest of the war without knowing you’re alright somewhere.”

Cody pressed Obi-Wan’s hand to his forehead, choking back a sob.

“You said you had a ‘last mission.‘ I don’t know what that means. You’ve talked about after the war- I don’t get why your life has to end with a mission. I'm not sure if I understood anything you said, but I’m right here and I would never hurt you. I don’t know what you saw but I would die first, ok? I want you to know that I would gladly die before hurting you so- so you don’t have to worry about whatever vision you had. Just wake up and tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it.”

Cody sat on the floor, clinging to Obi-Wan’s hand and continuing to breathe. 

Eventually, the door clicked open behind him. 

“Commander Cody? I’m terribly sorry but it’s been an hour...” Healer Aerdo’s voice came trickling in.

“I understand- is there time for me to say goodbye?” Cody rasped, not looking back. 

“Of course.” 

The door clicked shut and Cody stood jerkily.

“Goodbye, General Kenobi. Obi-Wan. I’ll take care of the men for you while you’re- resting. Please, I know I say this a lot but take care of yourself, ok?”

Cody pressed Obi-Wan’s hand to his forehead one last time before reverently resting it on the bed. Pulling his helmet on roughly, he turned sharply and marched out the door. 

Obi-Wan remained determinedly still.

Next: XIV

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #potentially triggering #suicide discussed #self-harm referenced #starwars #made myself cry a little whoops #fanfiction #codywan #star wars fanfiction #angst #pong krell is his own warning

[shelobussy]

Ohmygod YES Susan Pevensie is awesome please talk to me about Susan i want to know everything you have to say

Literally THANK YOU for asking me this bc Susan Pevensie is a character I never get asked about and I have So Many Opinions.

I'm going to start by saying that Susan used to be my least favorite character in the series. This goes for the books and the movies. Some of it was for personal reasons--she reminds me of a couple of annoying ppl I know irl--but it was also bc I watched Prince Caspian which shoehorned her into a relationship with Caspian which I hated.

HOWEVER. I ended up rethinking this position after interacting with Susan fans and realizing that there are so many wonderful things to love about her!

(putting under the cut bc this got long)

Things Ash Loves About Susan Pevensie

Aight I'm not going to do a formal analysis yet on her, but instead rant about some of the unrelated things I adore about Susan Pevensie.

Susan the Archer

Look we all love archery here. I don't have anything more to say.

Okay, I actually do have more to say. I love the fact that Susan is a complete badass with the bow. You get the general impression that she's one of the royals in charge of public relations, traditions, foreign policy, etc. and yet she's the most competent archer in the series. One of the few things I liked about the movies is how they didn't downplay this. They actually let her be a badass and show off her skills.

Also the part where she kicks Trumpkin's ass was awesome.

Susan the Gentle

Susan being the most passive Pevensie was something I definitely underappreciated as a teenager. I think my non-ability to see past "I'm not like other girls" narrative and the combination of Susan being described as the most traditionally feminine woman in the Narnia series is what initially turned me off from her.

HOWEVER, now it's one of my favorite attributes! I love that Susan is a badass and the most beautiful woman in Narnia. She has hair down to her feet, every man and woman in the kingdom want to fuck her, and she's still a fucking badass who will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Susan the Sister

Most of my thoughts of Susan as an older sister mostly stem from my own personal headcanons, but she is an awesome sister to her siblings. She's Peter's voice of reason, Edmund's sass partner, and Lucy's big sister.

Susan the Mom-Friend

She is a literal mother-figure for Corin.

"[...] the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying: "Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy mother died. [...]"

-The Horse and His Boy, 33-34

Most everything I have to say about this ventures into headcanon territory, but I love the idea of Susan basically adopting Corin after his mom dies. The way she trusts Cor--who she thinks is Corin in this chapter--is really sweet and I wish we could've seen more of that relationship.

Susan the Flawed

Something I notice from the fandom is a lot of people who hate Susan tend to because of her flaws. On the other hand, most Susan stans like to wave away these flaws and blame C.S. Lewis for being misogynistic or Aslan for being a "cruel god" and ignore the fact that she is a deeply flawed person.

Susan gets something of a "reverse redemption arc" in The Chronicles of Narnia. This makes her not only a fascinating foil to Edmund--as both are analytical, logical people--but an interesting character by herself.

She starts out in TWW as very skeptical of Narnia and it's whole deal and also very condescending to Lucy throughout. She ultimately does admit that Lucy was right and does get on board with the whole prophecy at the same time Peter does, and ends the book being crowned "the Gentle Queen."

In The Horse and His Boy, she has a very interesting dynamic with Edmund and in even more interesting relationship with Rabadash. They don't even interact on-page with each other, but it's highly implied that she was interested in him when he was a guest in Narnia. His behavior obviously changed when she visited him in Tashbaan, but you have to wonder what their dynamic was like before for her to travel all the way to his home when relations between the countries were strained at best.

Prince Caspian is where the cracks start showing through. Susan has lived an entire life as an adult in Narnia, gets thrown back to England with her siblings, and is yet again in Narnia as a child. This book is what really emphasizes her one fatal flaw: convenience.

(Put a pin in that thought, I'll get back to it.)

Susan denies once again that Lucy saw something that the rest of them can't seen. She continues this narrative until every other sibling finally acknowledges Lucy in the right and only then does she apologize.

The last mention of Susan is in The Last Battle, where all of her flaws rise up against her in the worst way possible. I have a lot of controversial opinions on this that I'm going to address later, but I just want to say that Susan's reverse-redemption arc is something I actually like about her.

(There is also evidence that Susan does get a full redemption arc, just as Edmund and Eustace did, but C.S. Lewis was pretty much done with The Chronicles of Narnia at the point and instead encouraged fans to write their own version of how that went down.)

Okay, back to convenience being Susan's fatal flaw. So the one thing that comes up time and time again in the series is that Susan is very focused on material comforts. I believe it's implied that she's vain, and it's canonical that her own personal comfort spurs her to make decisions.

"[...] I really believed it was him — he, I mean — yesterday. When he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I'd let myself. But I just wanted to get out of the woods and — and — oh, I don't know [...]"

Prince Caspian, 81

Prince Caspian has the strongest examples of Susan doing this, but certainly there's evidence elsewhere. There are a lot of fans who are distressed by this, claiming that Aslan and the others are too hard on her and shouldn't judge.

Honestly, I like that she's written with this flaw. Not only is it very relatable--(my own personal comfort and convenience is something I highly prioritize too)--but it humanizes a character who otherwise is ridiculously op and basically the Helen of Troy of the series. It may sound like I'm using this as an excuse to rant, but I really wouldn't have her any other way.

Susan As Portrayed by Anna Popplewell

Movie!Susan is a fucking delight.

She's sarcastic and badass and awesome and I could spend hours heaping praise on Anna's acting and her portrayal of Susan, but I can already tell that this post is going to be long so, I'll just stop here.

(10/10 want to be stabbed by her tho.)

Personal Headcanons

Let's talk about my fanon thoughts. I have many.

Susan is Aro

There's canonical evidence for this! Susan is a character who is heavily pursued by suitors everywhere, and even lets herself be courted by many of them, but chooses not to settle down. Even when she gets back to England and is described as only having interest in parties and material things, boys aren't mentioned.

I like to think that in The Horse in His Boy Susan was interested in Rabadash at first because he was a brilliant conversationalist. Nothing she says about him implies romantic interest, before and after she realizes the truth of his intentions.

Susan and Edmund Were Best Friends

This might be my love for The Horse and His Boy showing itself, but I think Susan and Edmund were thrown into circumstances where they interacted the most with each other.

Edmund is the ruler in charge of politics. Susan is the ruler in charge of Cair Paravel's public image. I imagine they spent time as ambassadors to other countries and planning royal functions.

They're also the most level-headed and logical out of their siblings, so they probably found a lot in common.

Susan Fancast

I literally just said I loved Anna's potrayal of Susan's (and I love what they gave us of older Susan too in LWW!), but I read the books in 2008 and my parents didn't let me see the movies bc I was like...nine years old and they thought it would be too scary.

So I had to headcanon my own interpretations.

Queen Susan the Gentle:

For some reason Merlin wasn't too scary for me to watch and I fell in love with Katie McGrath in like. Two episodes so. (On an unrelated note, I also fancast Bradley James as Peter at the time.)

Anyway, fanon Susan is basically Morgana Pendragon pre-evil arc. Sassy as hell, hot as fuck, and can kick your ass.

Unpopular Opinions

Yeah, feel free to skip this part if having controversial fandom opinions is a deal breaker for you.

The Problem With Susan Isn't Actually A Problem

I'm about to start so much discourse in the Narnia fandom, but C.S. Lewis's choices with her in The Last Battle weren't misogynistic. Bear in mind, I'm not saying that all of his writing choices in the series were A++ or excusing away certain racist/sexiest bits, but it's honestly baffling to me that people are so up in arms over Susan's exclusion in the final book.

So the part that everyone loses their shit over is as follows:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

"Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

The Last Battle, 83-84

There's a lot to unpack here and I first want to say that everyone's opinion on this part, no matter how different than mine, is valid. I'm going to be quoting some other ppl's opinions on here and by no means am I bashing them. I just want to address my feelings on the matter and the best way to do that is to cite the thoughts of ppl who have opposing ideas.

Here are some arguments on Tumblr I've heard regarding "The Problem of Susan":

"How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn't deserted Susan? [...] What if we didn't tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn't have again."

"Narnia is filled with metaphors (often not very subtle ones) that are supposed to teach us how to be, and the most glaring one for any young girl to absorb is that it's okay to be a girl like Lucy, unthreatening and cheerful and valiant and faithful, but to be a girl like Susan gets you punished - in fact, you aren't just punished, you're destroyed."

"why do we call it ‘the problem’ where’s the problem about a young woman dealing with her trauma and choosing her own path, actively making the choice to keep living and to stay and to carve a life out in England when her siblings couldn’t? what is the problem about susan forgetting to somehow cope with what she’s experienced? why is it ‘the problem of susan’ that she recontextualised her faith?"

And then there's JK Rowling who said this:

There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.

It's weird how I'm still finding new ways to hate JKR in the year 2021. Again, there is absolutely zero implication that Susan had sex when she came back to England. ZERO. Did she actually read the books? IDK. If someone shares this opinion pls reply with actual canonical evidence.

Back on topic, I'm a firm believer of death of the author and interpreting art via your own experiences. Which is why I'm also going to share my own interpretation by saying y'all are wrong.

Susan Pevensie was not abandoned by Narnia. She was not barred from Narnia because she is traditionally feminine or because she "owned her sexuality" (another opinion I didn't have time to condense down for this post) or because she recontextualized her faith or even because she deserved to be punished.

I also fail to see how Susan recontexualized her faith, as the entire point of it all is that she has none. Bringing this back to Susan's fatal flaw (personal convenience/material comforts), her prioritizing herself over her own faith is the reason she is "no longer a friend of Narnia." Not...whatever fanon y'all are imposing on her character.

Susan is not being punished for liking lipstick and looking pretty. Susan's not even being punished. Y'all read Neil Gaiman's The Problem of Susan and forgot it wasn't canon.

There are many reasons Susan is not in Aslan's Country (one of them being that she's not actually dead yet), but the main one has to do with this:

"[...] But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 215-216

Yeah, okay that's why Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. The implication when the Pevensies are told that they can no longer enter Narnia is that they are to find Aslan in other places. Susan doesn't do this, instead choosing to focus her life on material things. It isn't the lipstick, it's that she only wants the lipstick.

Susan Had Sex In The Books

Oh and not in the context y'all are thinking. (Again, there are no implications that Susan was barred from Narnia for having sex or that she had sex when she came back to England.)

So there's actual canonical evidence that Susan and Rabadash had a sexual relationship. Sort of.

"What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will marry this dark-faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?"

-The Horse and His Boy, 35

Edmund calls Rabadash her lover. Not her suitor. I don't know if the word had a different meaning in 1954, but it feels like C.S. Lewis is saying that they're fucking. I'm not really happy with the idea of Susan sleeping with an abuser, but really proud of her for Getting Some as a woman born in a time period where having premarital sex was a big no-no.

This also invalidates the weird opinion going on that Susan was barred from Narnia because she had sex.

Suspian Is The Worst

I haven't really talked about Movie!Susan much, but as long as we're talking unpopular opinions, it's worth noting that I hate Suspian. Some of it is the "Susan is Aro" headcanon screaming inside of me, but it's also the fact that it's written poorly, does nothing interesting for either character and generally comes across as awkward.

I feel like they were trying to make Prince Caspian sexy and relevant to teens. It came across as super heteronormative and unnecessary.

It also gets really really weird bc the next movie then gives Caspian and Edmund mad chemistry and we're all just like........ok.

Final Thoughts

Susan may not be my favorite character in the series, but she's grown on me over the years. I have many issues with fanon interpretations of her--which definately fueled some of my disdain for her initally--and I don't identify as a Susan Apologist.

I do however adore Susan and have many headcanons for her not mentioned here. I love reading fanfic, writing fanfic and meta, and generally having conversations about her and would love to talk more about it.

I welcome criticism (CONSTRUCTIVE) and conversation on all of my opinions and observations. Please drop into my inbox. <3

#susan pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #the problem of susan #narnia #meta #narnia meta #susan meta #ash does fandom #ash does meta

[buckyownsmylife]

daddy issues - chapter iii

The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.

When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist. It’s being constantly updated

       Leaving work later that day, Ransom was submerged in his own thoughts in a way he hadn’t been ever since he was a teen. Of course, his family - with the exception of his grandfather - thought he didn’t have much in his head, but the truth was that sometimes, he felt like he had too much. So, in an effort not to lose his mind, he decided to let it all go just before he turned fifteen. Everything. Every preoccupation, his mother’s expectations, his fear of never being good enough.        That had served him well up until a couple of months ago. Sure, it meant that he’d created quite a reputation for himself and he’d been involved in one too many drunk endeavors he would have preferred not to be associated with, but at least he had something to share, stories to tell. That would ultimately be extremely beneficial to him if he ever did decide to take his grandfather’s advice and write a book.        But then came the news that Harlan would cut him out of the will if he didn’t get his act together, along with the proposal that he should take over the publishing company, since his uncle was being reallocated to another family business, and he thought to himself, maybe this is it. Maybe this is the time to settle back and become what he’d dreaded so much. Maybe it’s time for him to forget about fun and amusement and discover what exactly was so great about maturing.        So he accepted the job and tried to focus on what he was supposed to be doing. Who he was supposed to be. It seemed like the right thing to do after he’d spent so long trying to run from any sort of difficulty in life. It seemed like he owed his grandfather at least that. But over the next few months, it became increasingly difficult to fulfill his duties without seriously reconsidering everything he had been before and everything he had tried to avoid thinking about, which had lead to his admittedly stupid impulsive behavior.        Ransom was in his late thirties now, and he was only starting to realize just how messed up he was. And that meant that the last thing he thought himself capable of becoming right now was a father.        Actually, Ransom had never even considered the possibility of ever becoming one. I mean, he liked the part that came before, very much in fact, but despite his playboy ways, he’d always been very careful about using a condom, especially since he didn’t want to deal with precisely the type of problem he was going through right now. But of course, even he knew that condoms failed and with his luck (and the amount of sexual partner he’d had) it was only a matter of time until it happened.        Fuck. What the hell was he going to do? It’s not like he even had a proper parental figure to learn from, considering his father was an even lousier son-of-a-bitch than him and his mother was a controlling freak. What was he going to do?        Ransom was startled when he realized he was nowhere near his house when he’d finally been able to snap out from his thoughts. In fact, his feet had taken him in the opposite direction, and he found himself easily following the familiar path to his grandfather’s house.        Just as the castle-like mansion appeared in front of him, he sighed, looking up at the window of Harlan’s office. It seemed like he was awake. He wondered what his grandfather would have to say about this situation. Harlan managed to be even more unpredictable than Ransom most times.       Still, Ransom knew that if there was ever someone who was capable of giving him any advice he’d actually follow, it was him.       Harlan, of course, knew something was up the second Ransom stepped foot in his room. He’d always been the one person capable of reading his grandson, and that meant he was probably the only one who actually somewhat understood him.       “Well, Ransom, it’s very nice of you to come and visit me when there’s no family dinner forcing you to, but care to share what actually made you drive all the way here? I know it has nothing to do with the company, otherwise, I would have already heard about it from one of the managers.”       Ransom couldn’t really be surprised about Harlan and his knowledge of him, so he settled for some feeling kind of comfort at knowing at least someone in this world could see right through him and actually cared enough to ask about his problems.       “I… I got someone pregnant.” The words came out weirdly easily, and it felt like some of the weight that’d been placed on him had now disappeared. He raised his eyes to meet Harlan’s, after his grandfather didn’t offer any immediate reaction, and the anticipation made him grow irritated again.       He really should learn other automatic responses.       “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Harlan took a deep breath before answering, a tiny smile playing on his lips.       “What are you expecting me to say? Congratulations or I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner?” The young man rolled his eyes, impulsively getting up from his seat to pace around the room. His mind was failing him, he couldn’t hold on to a single thought for more than a millisecond. He’d come all the way here in the hopes that Harlan would know what to do, the right thing to say to shed some light on the mess that was his mind, but he should have known better. That was not how his grandfather worked.      But his grandfather knew how *he worked. So he patiently waited, watching with piercing attention as Ransom tried to get a grip over his thoughts. He knew his grandson would need time, but he would voice his concerns sooner or later. And then, he’d be able to actually help, once he determined what precisely was Ransom’s problem with the entire situation.        “I’m not father material,” the young man suddenly blurted out, running his fingers through his hair and inadvertently messing his usually impeccable styling. Harlan smiled to himself, knowing only a year before this would never happen, not without his grandson suddenly leaping towards the nearest reflective surface just to adjust his hair. He’d changed so much already, but he still was overcome by doubts. “I don’t think… I think the baby would be better off not knowing me.”        And there it was. That overwhelming sense of insecurity was the reason for Ransom being the way he was. No matter how hard he tried to run away from it, pretend it wasn’t there, Harlan knew his grandson too well. And now that he was starting to change his life, facing his biggest problem was going to happen sooner or later. Since there was a baby in question, thank God it was sooner rather than later.        “My boy, I understand why you would think that. It’s not like you have had great parental examples to guide you in such a journey, and I even accept my part of the blame in that. But I think you have the wrong idea of what being a parent truly is like. No matter how it may seem to our kids, no single adult suddenly is struck by the obvious guidelines of how to be a perfect parent. We figure out as we go, and we make mistakes along the way. A lot of them. So I think the question that really matters here is… do *you want to be around to witness your child grow? Or would you be okay never really knowing what became of him or her?”        Harlan braced himself for the answer, knowing it would deeply affect him one way or another, but also aware that he couldn’t let Ransom see what his reaction would be like. It would only make the younger man angry. It was important for him to think he was the only one in charge of his decisions, and the only one affected by them.         When it became clear that Ransom was too lost in his own mind to come out with an answer just yet, his grandfather pressed on. “Look, Ransom, parenting is a skill, just like writing. Some people are born naturally talented, others have to rise to the occasion. You just have to figure out if you’re up for the challenge, because if you aren’t… I think it’d be best if you let them be.”        A few more seconds of heavy silence where Ransom still wouldn’t meet his eyes passed, and Harlan decided to ask, “Tell me, is *she ‘mother material’?” His grandson took a deep breath, once more running his fingers through his hair before admitting, “I don’t know. I barely know her at all. But she’s a professor. Of law, out of anything. And she seemed… good. Better than me, at least, and that’s a relief.”        The older man couldn’t help but laugh at how Ransom’s sense of humor tended to show its face in the weirdest of situations. He knew what his grandson should do, that he’d regret not giving this a try, but he also knew no good could come from trying to force Ransom into doing something when he wasn’t ready for or didn’t want to do it. So all he could do was wait, and hope the younger man would find the right answer by himself.       “I think I know what I want to do.”       Harlan couldn’t help but notice the sparkle in Ransom’s eye as he left the house without even remembering to say goodbye.

#ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale #angst #my series #ransom drysdale reader #ransom drysdale reader insert #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale imagines

[jiminrings]

would you (III)

pairing: jimin x y/n

wordcount: 6k

And when you look at him with the same hint of bleariness in your eyes, and his shoulder feels the brunt of your tentative squeeze and sees the lightest of smiles on your lips —

Jimin knows everything that he needs to know.

or the one in which love isn’t one-sided anymore, jimin realizes his feelings, and yearning for you is what keeps him awake.

would you by pink sweats

part one | part two | part three

Both oddly yet unsurprisingly, Jungkook’s become a constant in your life.

For starters, both of you were lonely and needed someone, even if it’s by the sidelines. The equivalent of white noise and an extra pillow to put by your side so you’d feel surrounded.

Funnily enough, Jungkook’s as good as a mainstay in your life as you are with him, providing company and warmth with no question. It’s as if he’s always been your friend and you never met each other in such desperate measures.

Given that, sure, maybe you and Jungkook don’t fuck each other as often and it’s only occasional now at this point, but the conversation stays and lasts. It’s the routine of him pounding into you as he talks shit about the pressure he feels fron rival companies that aren’t even worth his time, and you talking about how thankful you are that he’s accepted you into his company and that you can’t be any more pumped to start.

That’s his cue to (very nicely) threaten you to shutting up if you still want to cum, and him talking in between broken grunts that you’ve earned the job both for your credentials and skills and of course the potential — not some dumb luck of having him as the CEO of the very company you’re chasing after, being friends with benefits with to the title of best friend.

To put it simply, Jungkook’s your platonic boyfriend of some sort. The both of you are dead sure that you don’t like each other in that way, and that soon enough, the two of you swear to flush out the libido so you’d stop hooking up.

It doesn’t necessarily mean that he’d stop cracking “that’s what you said” jokes and you teasing him about his whining.

The two of you are so compatible that it makes you forget about your dynamics with Jimin and how you’re even more compatible with him. His name’s only thrown around carelessly for good measure and not for drunk half-sobs from yourself.

It’s why Jungkook’s forcibly sat down on your floor as he eats his chicken wings, banned from the couch because you swear on his life that he’d regret his whole existence once he stains it. He has absolutely no choice but to pout and sit on your rug you haven’t vacuumed in awhile when he could easily buy you a new and better one if he does stain it.

You’re too engrossed over a movie because you don’t want to listen to Jungkook and his surprisingly strong moral compass, him already knowing that you’re deflecting this altogether so you could attempt to avoid the inevitable.

“Ignoring Jimin doesn’t mean you’ve moved on from him — do you know that?”

More than he’d likely admit, maybe Jungkook does have a taste for the emotions and the dramatics. He’s always been more in tune with it, but it had no place in the real world. Instead he gets his fill and spends almost all of it with the people he’s comfortable with — his family and a select amount of friends.

You’re the closest thing in real life he could ever relate to a reality show (although you always deny that your life is as eventful as it is), and Seokjin’s running to replace you in your spot because he always seem to get him even though they bicker the most, always smiling with his hyung because maybe, just maybe, Jungkook likes being taken care of.

Of course he’s observant. He wants to know you emotionally because knowing you physically so well doesn’t exactly coincide with the fact that you’re moving away from that phase in your relationship per se. He should absolutely know what’s with you furrowing your brows outside of the bedroom, know what’s tinkering with his best friend’s mind and not only relate it to when he hits your sweet spot from down under.

As soft as he sounds in contrast to his obvious demeanor from being in such a place of authority and growing up with everyone’s eyes on him, Jungkook’s grown to take care of you. It’s massive growth in his part for the past month because he learned that maybe he shouldn’t really take all of his life alone. Maybe he needs someone.

He’s not rushing for marriage and to be honest, if only the two of you weren’t platonic and you weren’t the farthest thing from being in his likes in that way, that would be the only time he’d look at you beyond as a friend. Companionship doesn’t need to equate to romantic relationships and that’s perhaps one of the many things he’d been lacking.

You like Jungkook as an addition to your life. You’re no stranger to strikingly-handsome best friends — Taehyung and Seokjin and of course Jimin are the living proof, but only the last part is who you’re unsure of.

And maybe yes, maybe Jungkook’s right. Maybe you can’t always avoid Jimin forever but you know that but you’d die on that hill because you can’t see yourself caving soon. Missing him yet not wanting to see him are the things you juggle with.

“Either side with me or you can get out of my apartment.”

He sputters when you slap his hand away and take his portion for yourself and audibly complains of how come you can sit on your couch and he can’t, forgetting that it’s your apartment and your couch that he’s talking about.

You’re also forgetting that he’s your boss, your superior, and your CEO. Although it becomes official by Monday, you come to your sense and sheepishly hand him half of it back.

You’ve quit the bartender gig but that doesn’t stop you from dropping in to work sometimes. Because maybe Jaehyun misses you a little that he pretends not to see when you sneak in a drink or two free of charge, and Seokjin misses you and his pride nowadays doesn’t deny him from saying that he misses you.

Jungkook kinda panics at that because not only does he not want to go home to his massive penthouse by himself where he can eat all that he wants on his couch, but he also needs the company and watching a crappy movie with you would give him a good night’s sleep.

“Look, look! All I’m saying is, from dude to dude or whatever, is that anyone could see how much he misses you.”

It’s your turn to slightly panic and you don’t know what to take from that, visibly caught in a daze as Jungkook takes the sweet time to slither from the floor to the couch.

He’d know that actually, because two weeks ago when he came over after a long tiring day and he just wants to be buried in you, Jimin just happens to aiming for you door too.

Jimin was second-guessing the whole day whether he should come over to your apartment unannounced and how you’d take it, but once the urge to visit overpowers, he certainly didn’t expect this guy.

He didn’t come empty-handed and there’s an outrageously tiny boquet he’s sure that you’d like because you found them obscene and adorable right inside his backpack. He doesn’t have the slightest clue inside his mind why you haven’t been yourself lately, or maybe it’s just because he refuses to believe it as it is.

Jimin’s cocky at first and that’s what Jungkook can clearly see, not resisting the amused scoff leaving him at the aura this other dude gives off.

“You two fucking?”

Jungkook laughs at that, both because he’s taken in surprise and also because it’s the clear answer.

“You wanna know?”

Actually, he’s starting to realize that maybe fucking you isn’t the only thing he’d like to do. You honestly seem pretty cool for a person, and he wants to befriend you! You’re level-headed as far as he knows, and the argument that’s flowing in his head is clearly different from the one in Jimin’s.

The older boy’s visibly frustrated, pinching his nosebridge as he tries to be civil.

“Look, I don’t know-...”

To put it simply, Jungkook has the knack of messing with people from time to time. Now may not exactly be the best time for it but he still takes the opportunity, ignoring the way Jimin’s gaze at him burns him down enough.

“I’m down for almost everything. Though I’d have to ask if Y/N’s game for a threesome or-“

“God, no! I-...”

Jimin resists the urge to bite back a snarky remark, opting to crack his knuckles using the same hands as he wants to be as level-headed with this as much as possible.

Namjoon coming out of his own apartment would be very convenient right now to diffuse the tension even if he’d feel it himself, yet your blue-haired neighbor doesn’t come out any time soon and neither will any of them back down.

He’s still a reasonable distance away from Jungkook who’s still standing in from your door, staying there because this whole scenario intrigues him that he figures that his desperations could wait a few more minute.

“Has she been eating properly? Sleeping? Still working?”

That’s a surprise.

Jungkook’s pleasantly taken aback with Jimin’s sentiments when it comes to you, a gentle smile on his face that maybe he’s not as bad as he thought of him.

Granted that yeah, he’s not the one who harbors unrequited love for him unlike you, but from what he can observe does he think that sometime along the way — of you going out of your way to get out of Jimin’s, is his change of heart

“Mhmm. I think. I don’t exactly live here.”

That’s all the silent reassurance he needs that you and him aren’t a thing, the relief in his heart unexplainable because the last time he checked, friends aren’t supposed to be this relieved for the other’s lack of a partner. It’s almost as if Jimin wished and prayed that Jungkook wasn’t your boyfriend.

“Cool.”

“Nice.”

He has his hands on his pockets as he twitches where he stands, Jungkook’s eyebrows raised because he knows all too well when someone’s hesitant to leave.

Jimin thinks it’s for the better if he retreats for now even if it pains him, planning to come back another day in better circumstances. Pondering about it, maybe this is a good thing. Keep his thoughts organized and his mind running, then try not to think about what’s probably going to happen as soon as Jungkook enters your door.

“Bye, Jungkook.”

This whole encounter truly cracks him up, finding it amusing as he leans against your door just to prof further.

“Searching me up? Dropped by the company? Don’t tell me you bought the latest magazine with my face on it.”

Jimin scoffs and he could tell that the both of them have atleast loosened up to each other and he doesn’t feel the urge to throw him down the floor like what he learned. But scoffing doesn’t take him away from the fact that yeah, okay, maybe he did exactly what Jungkook implied.

“Not like I wanted to spend my money on an overpriced issue. ‘Course I need to look out for Y/N.”

He pleasantly hums as he brings out his phone, about to text you to suddenly open your door right now with no questions asked. “That’s not your job.”

“And it’s yours?”

He shrugs at the condescending tone Jimin gives him, taking note to tell you about this interaction sooner than later.

“Never said it was mine.”

Jungkook backspaces his text until it’s blank, wanting to type a new one yet he stops in his tracks just to listen.

“Well then good. Because it’s mine.”

Jimin sounds so sure despite the ruffling his backpack gives when he readjusts it on his shoulder, swiping underneath his eye that he’s done out of habit and effectively taking out the last bit of eyeliner since he went here straight from a shoot.

You never actually said it was his, but he feels this obligation; this pull.

It’s a commitment he’s given himself, suddenly whispering to himself when all he’s done in the past minutes was to be accusatory with his sharp voice.

“It’s always been mine.”

bar this weekend? it’s also jin’s birthday soon and i’ve got some free shirts from this shoot that’s his size

we can put both our names on the card, i won’t tell :D

then split a sundae and some brownies, my treat!!

i’ll crash at ur place tho i still have a sweater or two left there

Jimin sighs to himself, making the makeup artist for a second that she’s the reason why he’s so huffy and the dabbing of the sponge to his cheeks don’t do anything to make the situation better.

He’s sighing, not because he’s run out of pride. Not because he used to find double-texting an ultra desperate move. Not because he now doesn’t spend a second longer thinking to send a message. No. He’s sighing because he feels that you’re so out of his grasp.

He can’t do anything about it currently, now that he’s in a shoot the director had to beg him to be in because in the past week, all that Jimin’s done is deny one offer after the other.

Normally he’d feel ecstatic that he’s becoming even more in-demand, but in truth, none of that matters when you’re the only one he’d be eager to have a meeting with. He’d take you over a designer shoot anytime without skipping a heartbeat, even if that means Yoongi, his agent, lose his shit over before curling up into a ball.

He’s booked yet he lets the chances slip from his fingers. Nothing could be any more important than you.

He’s hanging on by an insistent line of desperation actually, taking the time to skim through his phone’s camera roll and his Instagram archives to look for you, put you on his story, and leave people wondering.

If he was lucky enough then you’d add it to yours, and if he wasn’t then he’d be faced with nothing and a hundred other reactions that didn’t come from you, a full day left to soak in the pain that he doesn’t have your undivided attention.

Jimin knows that this was wrong -- knows that it’s selfish of him and his approach isn’t always the best, but he’s piss-poor clueless. His moral compass is clouded and just by you distancing yourself away from him is enough to drive him over the edge.

He’s so lost in you consuming his thoughts that sometimes he gets lucky, the frustration of trying to get where he went wrong and you went cold sets a distant and steely look on his face and it’s exactly what the photographer needed for the shoot.

You only feel half-sorry when your phone dings with multiple texts again from Jimin in the middle of trying on work outfits for your first day, despite your cold resolve that you want to keep up; and additionally, despite Jungkook’s insistence that you should wear the grey pencil skirt because it would be the perfect last outfit the two of you get to fuck each other in, and apparently, it should be in his office.

He’s unbearable, but he’s not half-bad you suppose.

It takes one beat, two beats before you will yourself to type out a reply, a little hitch in your breath and you’re not entirely sure if it’s just misplaced nervousness or because your high-waisted pencil skirt is literally too constricting and pencil-y for its own kind.

wish i could :(( would go to the bar at the weekend but i already promised another friend and he’s planned it weeks before

You already know that it’d be impossible and Jimin will most likely turn down the invitation altogether, even if what you said this time is entirely true.

Taehyung’s finally finished his studies abroad and he’s coming home at last, having already set up living arrangements and even interior designs months before he even got a ticket back home. One of the many plans he’s made was the both of you to go back to Jaehyun’s bar that was the witness to every miniscule thing (whether to celebrate or destress) back in college. And of course, since Tae exists that he has to be treated like royalty after having studied oh so long abroad, you’d have to treat and indulge him of course!

Those went along the lines of him saying he wanted to go to the aquarium, and then him pretending he didn’t plant that idea in your head, then breaking character for a brief second to tell you that you should surprise him with the tickets. 

great! he can tag along with us then

Jimin replies as soon as he got ahold of his phone the moment yet-another mundane shoot ended, not even an hour from when you last sent in your text that has him breathing sharply. 

It’s not a mistake with how he worded it, because after all, nobody could be anymore compatible with you, right? Jimin sometimes feels like he knows you more than he knows himself, and he could only assume that you think the same.

He’s not exactly pleased and he wouldn’t say that he’s a little hurt knowing it just wouldn’t be the two of you together nor you cancelling said plans with this other guy he’s highly suspicious of, even more suspicious than he could get with free shipping on a non-holiday.

Whatever it is you subject him to, it’s okay.

It’s okay.

Jimin would take whatever he can get.

“Promise me you’d behave.”

It’s an empty warning that goes through Taehyung, still grinning as he completely disregards what you’ve just said and leans to squeeze in your face once again.

He’s missed you — he truly did! Random things would remind him of you all throughout his time abroad, and the way he brought home souvenirs and goodies for you is all-telling. Well for one, he did bring home a plastic bag to you that he claims is filled with the air of where he stayed, but you’re still doubting if he’s just blown to it with his own breath. There’s the license plates and the mugs, and the more endearing ones were blankets and custom shirts he’s managed to snag for you.

The familiarity home brings gets him drunk and unsurprisingly, he’s already managed to befriend Jin despite knowing each other for less than an hour.

Tae just had to compliment Jin on his earrings, and he just had to squeal in delight because apparently you were too slow to notice them.

The two of you were already here in the bar an hour early before what Jimin said, and you decided on that with the reasoning that maybe you needed to be a little bit more intoxicated upon meeting him again after quite some time.

“It’s not like I bite. You told me we were similar or something like that.”

Taehyung finds it nice that you did get a best friend while he was away, because he’s the same with Hoseok who he’s also met and they just automatically clicked that they were roommates in the next week. He’s keen on you branching out, but he’s not exactly sure what to feel that he just had to be a little similar to this friend of yours.

He’s still your original, first, best close friend that no one can take the throne of.

“That is my point, Tae. The two of you are competitive over things and you haven’t even met each other yet.”

He hums at that, once again ignoring what you’ve just said as he pokes and pokes on your cheek.

Maybe it’s your bad luck, but you just have this pattern of having really handsome guys and only have them turn out as friends because neither have the feelings, and maybe you’ve also been so affection-starved that you think Taehyung poking your cheeks is domestic.

“Hmmm,” he hums indifferently, this time in a tune and even runs his thumb on your cheek incessantly, “what moisturizer do you use?”

It’s your turn to ignore him this time, having to physically shake Taehyung by the shoulder so he’d get to focus and won’t be in a trance with your moisturized cheeks that he likes attacking.

“Need to tell you some things,” his attention’s piqued yet he doesn’t jump into conclusions, his shoulder a very warm crevice that you surely missed which is why you’re immediately burying yourself into, not wanting to look him in the eye.

“I know there’s a lot of things.”

What Taehyung didn’t tell you is that he had some people then and there to after you, from some friends and to some family he sent every once in awhile and he simply couldn’t believe that you thought they were all coincidences and you just happened to bump to his mother in the grocery even if she lived in the next city.

“Tell me the most important ones in a single sentence. I’ll ask and we can catch up with everything later.”

He has a hunch on what said things could be but he doesn’t say a word, not sure if he already wants to precede wanting to know if you really do prefer cheese popcorn over butter and what would his reaction be if you-

“I just wanna tell you that Jisoo’s in town, I’m in love — used to, I think — with Jimin, and the two of them are together.”

Oh.

Taehyung stares off into the distance, his gaze into nothingness unrelenting are you’re actually nervous if you’ve broken him already.

Five beats, six beats, and Tae blinks. He’s finished trying to tie all the ends of your statement altogether and surprisingly, made peace with what he says a few seconds later.

“Doesn’t matter. Moved on long ago.”

Taehyung smiles but the rigidness of it isn’t his facial structure, but rather the slightest of pain behind it, an unexplainable glaze on his eyes that he blinks soon enough.

“W-well me too! I moved on too!”

His sudden confession, if it was even the truth in the first place, suddenly makes you do the same that it reminds him of an eager puppy he’s always wanted to get.

He snorts at that but doesn’t question the validity of what you’ve just said. Taehyung’s always known that you’re a bit fragile and he lets it pass — you atleast need something sembling control over your life.

“To let you know, I even sleep with-...”

“Oh my god, Y/N-...”

You’ve grown but you never really strayed, always wanting to prove something that you didn’t care about obviously giving too much information and crossing boundaries.

He’s giving you noogies and you let him, the tipsy lull of the shots that Jaehyun gave you taking its course.

Jimin’s more nervous than excited to stroll into the place, hands in his pockets that effectively crease his pants but he doesn’t mind.

It doesn’t take another second longer to find you even with your back turned to him, quickly weaving in between the sea of people to get to you. He’s probably gotten a curse or two, but none of those matter.

“Hey!” Jimin patters as soon as he sees the back of your head, taking you into a massive bear hug from behind you widen your eyes on.

He’s unbelievably gotten warmer than before, and you would’ve lost yourself if he didn’t squeeze you in earnest and if Taehyung didn’t take a once-over of him.

“Hi,” it’s the only one you could muster, two pats on his arm that you’d only reserve as a silent sign for him to let go and he knows that, but doesn’t take notice.

Taehyung’s the one that breaks it, a cold stare on Jimin that he only returns as icy.

“Park Jimin. Y/N’s best friend.”

You have no time to purse your lips over that, because Tae raises his eyebrows at it as if he’s either challenged or surprised, but he offers his hand nonetheless, noticing how much bigger his hand his that he instinctively squeezes it a little tighter like how he’d do with you.

And if Jimin is hurt, he doesn’t show it.

“Kim Taehyung. Y/N’s best friend since high school.”

That one’s something Jimin didn’t expect, head tilting to analyze if this Kim guy is actually serious and if he was, then how come you never told him?

His jaw clenches for a second, a forced smile on his lips that he’s practiced for his career day and night.

Not that it matters.

Taehyung and Jimin engage in conversation by themselves, and you don’t pay attention enough to know that their “conversation” is just them trying to boast, the other to be condescending, and trying to one-up each other in their knowledge about you.

“Bet you don’t even know Y/N’s favorite fruit.”

“What, as a child or the one she likes now? Better yet, do you even know the fruits that she hates?”

“Hmm, you mean practically almost everything? Nice try. Bet you don’t know how in second semester, she-“

“Took a tutoring class with Min Yoongi? The other intelligent dude that she used to have as a sworn enemy? Christ, it’s not like you even try.”

Your attention span has long been faded, instead turning your focus to Seokjin who hasn’t moved from his spot for washing the glasses for five minutes because he’s eavesdropping at the conversation, and he is certainly entertained.

“Are we getting wasted for your birthday?”

Jin has to blink away the sleepiness from his eyes that has since been disappearing ever since he dropped in to listen to the bickering, promising to himself that he should be well-rested and not have three hours of sleep for the days that you’re gonna come over the bar and have two best friends fighting over for a title they’ve made up themselves.

“Might be. Although I’m not inviting any of those two that look like they’re gonna claw each other debating what’s your favorite drink.”

Jin feels like a breath of fresh air, and in another tipsy haze, if only he had feelings for you and vice versa, he’d totally be your boyfriend by now.

You admire him but not in that way.

He fascinates you because you’ve figured that Jin’s always been more than well-off from the start. No one in their right mind would come to work in Gucci mules and in a Rolex wristwatch for their bartending job.

He’s explained it to you a couple of months back. Just so happens that Seokjin’s actually a heir to his dad’s company, and he just got this job to humble himself. Perhaps he’s the one born with a silver spoon in his mouth and had too much control, that he’s taken it upon himself to put him down a couple of notches.

That explains to how Jin just takes whatever schedule he can get and doesn’t complain, or to how him and Jungkook have always seemed familiar with each other and had too much in common, contributing factors were that he was Jungkook’s senior in business school and that they were born in the same elite circle. Also to how Jin applied to Jaehyun, and the guy must have found it ridiculous considering they both have the same situations, and immediately hired him right away.

Jin’s just always been there in a way, from how he’d offer you atleast half of his salary when you’re in a tight spot, to talking it out with Jaehyun when you insisted on coming to work with half a mind and a handful of cramps.

“You’re the best.”

That came out of nowhere, and so did the sudden poking of your finger to Seokjin’s bread smile, but he takes it.

Meanwhile, that’s gotten Jimin’s attention.

He’s been on edge and having Taehyung, who oddly seems similar to him, is insulting that he wants to deck him with his rings.

He doesn’t like feeling second. Doesn’t like feeling second to something he knew he’d be the first at, and the concept of not being the first meaning that you’re last makes him frown.

The thoughts consuming his mind are just too noisy to let go, taking advantage when Tae’s by the bathroom and Jin’s flagged down by a customer.

“Y’close with Taehyung?”

Jimin whispers as if it’s too shameful to be said aloud, and he thinks that it is, but you only roll your eyes at him playfully and it gets him in a deeper frown because you were only taking this lightly.

“I have other friends too, y’know.”

Yeah, he’s forgotten about that. And if he pretends hard enough, he could be the only one.

There’s no time to dwell on it, not when he’s already drowned in it too deep. He wants nothing but to be selfish and it’s a thought so massive that his ego seemed superficial.

“Jimin, you need to know something.”

There’s a light tap on his forearm but he was already long alert before that, his eyes widening with how you’re looking at him.

You’re looking at him like you used to and for some reason, he’s excited. He’s jittery and nervous at the same time, and he doesn’t know what for, but he wants you to say it.

“Y-yeah? What is it?”

His mind flashes back to when you confessed to him when you were drunk, and he thinks you’ve forgotten it. He’s forgotten about it too, actually. But the situation was so similar again but this time he wasn’t cowering from it nor laughing at your face.

This time he’s the one who’s nervous and hopeful, the tips of his fingers trembling as he looks deep into your eyes.

“Taehyung’s ex is Jisoo, alright? He already knows about the two of you. Just thought you needed the transparency.”

Your stern statement withers into a mumble at the end, Jimin’s stare so intense that it makes you cower.

Instantly, you think that he looks dejected because he’s already known for the start and the truth you’ve just dropped on him confirmed it.

Jimin’s absolutely crestfallen because it’s the furthest thing he’s ever expected for you to say, feeling your hand give him some consolation pats on his back.

One inhale, one exhale. Maybe the gnawing feeling of emptiness he’s feeling would be gone tomorrow, now that you’ve sprung an unknown truth of his current girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend happening to be your friend.

But that’s not the case.

“Yup. Needed that.”

It’s okay for Jimin to look for you.

It’s okay for him to only hum when Jisoo hugs him and buries her face in his chest. It’s not as warm as yours when you embrace him, and the scent that stays on his shirt isn’t of you. She doesn’t nudge her nose on the middle of his chest, and poke at his sternum and ask him to stop getting ripped.

It’s okay for him to only smile when she kisses him when used to giggle and actually love it. He’s never kissed you but he wonders everyday, and you’d probably taste as sweet as you look. If he ever did kiss you, you’d be his only fixation he can’t stop drinking out of.

It’s okay for Jimin to only smile when Jisoo tells him that she loves him, and if he ever does say it, there’s no I preceding the reiteration.

He’s not sure whether she means it or it’s out of habit, something developed when he said it so often and out of the blue. Even then, he can’t feel the saccharine feeling of being drunk in love anymore. Atleast Jimin knows that whenever you told him you loved him, you did actually mean it.

This is okay.

It’s okay for him to buy your perfume and spray it on his pillow, and if he closes his eyes hard enough, he could think that the comforter enveloping him is your warmth instead.

Jimin’s lost and he lets himself to be.

It’s okay to fall out of love with Jisoo.

Jimin from three months ago wouldn’t have thought that it was possible. In fact, he thought that it was the most impossible thing underneath the sun and he often confesses it to the moon, because he’s never fallen as hard.

Jimin from two months ago thought that he’s at his happiest, and everything that’s been happening ever since he’s laid his eyes on Jisoo is serendipity.

Jimin from a month ago thought that he was rotting from within. He felt as if he’s the most frustrated he’s ever been and it got him wondering whether his hair is actually dyed grey or if it’s from his stress.

Jimin now, is someone that has never been hurt before as he’s hurting now.

He finds himself in this same godforsaken bar he’s grown to both hate and love, and the start and end of what seems to be the things that make and break him as a person.

It’s clear as day when under the simultaneously soft and harsh lighting, that maybe Jisoo’s never been his.

No one between the two of them actually made the initiative to break up with the other, but it seemed like words weren’t needed.

She’s perhaps always belonged to Taehyung who has the tightest of grips on her waist. There’s no grinding, no libido. Embracing each other in the middle of a crowd tells him everything he needs to know.

Jisoo’s slipped away from Jimin’s grasp and into Taehyung’s who’ll she will always come back to. Tae never wavers and he’s holding onto her as if she’s his lifeline, and that wouldn’t exactly be wrong.

Jimin’s girlfriend is slipping away from him but it’s not what pains him.

Jimin’s eyes are bleary, and he’s unsure whether it’s because he’s drunk or because he’s crying. Whatever it was, it’s not because of Jisoo — it’d never been her.

He rests his head on your shoulder and you let him. He feels so defenseless and looks shattered that you don’t question him nonetheless, a magnanimous feeling of pity rolling from every circle you rub to his back.

“You’re really beautiful.”

He says it out of the blue as if it’s a confirmed thought, looking up at you in stride.

“Don’t say things like that,” you could only murmur as you try to look for a bottle of water within your reach, sooner or later having to haul Jimin home.

He doesn’t have a slightest clue why you’d dismiss it, but he persists as he always does.

“I’m really lucky to know you,” it’s an irrevocable fact with how he says it, making you think for a second if he’s actually sober and could come home by himself. That’s not any of his worries, because this time his mind works as fast as his mouth does. “But I think I’m the luckiest if I can have you.”

As Jimin comes to realize, it’s not Jisoo that he should’ve fallen for. He got burned as fast as he crashed, and it was love like that he’s always tried seeking.

It’s the easy short-lived warmth he got from a candle, but never the hard yet lasting warmth he got from a fireplace.

Your love for him was built steadily over the years and never all at once. It was from a spark to a fire in the making you took the chance being burnt from, and how long it was built meant no match to how short it was extinguished.

“Am I too late?”

Jimin’s as vulnerable as he can get that he doesn’t realize he’s already crying and it’s not drunken blues anymore.

He loves you so much and it takes an avalanche to make him realize that every moment with you shined.

His heart’s a muscle and he couldn’t believe that he’s only realized now that you’re it’s one true memory, having trained to be with you so much that no one could quite compare all along.

You don’t need anything to be the light; you don’t need to do anything to be the center of attention. It’s always been you yet he’s dismissed the thought that maybe it was just the bias of having known you.

But now, it’s about who he would and wouldn’t be if not for you.

Jimin can’t live without even the concept of you.

“If I told you that I’m falling for you, what would you do?”

And when you look at him with the same hint of bleariness in your eyes, and his shoulder feels the brunt of your tentative squeeze and sees the lightest of smiles on your lips —

Jimin knows everything that he needs to know.

#feedback pls and thank you :D SEND LOVE I SPENT SO MUCH TIME ADJUSTING EVERYTHING SO I COULD RESUME WRITING #jimin #park jimin #jimin imagine #jimin imagines #jimin drabble #jimin drabbles #jimin au #jimin oneshot #jimin oneshots #jimin angst #jimin angst imagine #jimin angst imagines #jimin series #jimin fic rec #jimin fic recs #jimin masterlist #bts masterlist #would you #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #bts jimin imagine

[notsoguiltykpop]

The Tenth Floor pt22

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader & Taehyung x Reader

Min Yoongi had gone through 34 secretaries in the past 24 months, and each one of them left in tears. This fact alone should have warned you against taking the job, but the pay was too good to pass up. Surely you could put up with a billionaires temper-tantrums, right?

3 years after giving up on the nonsense that happened on the 10th Floor, and after a particularly unpleasant falling out with your former boss, you find yourselves back in each others lives. Can things have changed enough for you and Yoongi to have a fresh start? Or was the damage done too great?

Genre: Crack, Fluff, humor, some angst? Mostly crack tbh.

Word Count: Idk man, this is a short update.

Warnings: Strong language, smut talked about/implied in previous updates, some dark themes occasionally. 

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21,

---

His words hung, uselessly, in the air. He shifted from foot to foot, waiting for you to say something. Anything. To make this less awkward. 

“Funny, after all this time, me bringing you the wrong coffee.”

Why were those the words that came out of his mouth? He had no idea. All he knew was they spilled out in a desperate attempt to lighten the uncomfortable silence that had fallen after you took a sip, made a face, and spat the coffee back into the cup without saying a word. 

“I never brought you the wrong coffee,” You replied dryly. “You just never knew what you wanted until you drank it.”

Yoongi internally cringed. That wasn’t entirely true. He usually knew what he wanted, some part of him just liked to be difficult. 

He thought better than to say that. 

“So this is a nice office,” He tried instead. “Nice... Desk?”

“Thanks I built it myself,” You deadpanned.

“Really?”

“No.” You sat back in your chair, eyeing him warily. “Where’s Jungkook today?”

Right to the point. “He wasn’t feeling good,” Yoongi said smoothly.

You looked at your phone, read something, and raised an eyebrow. “No.”

“He took a personal day.”

“No.” You said again. “He didn’t. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, just felt like visiting our greatest investor in person today. Speaking of, is Changkyun available...?” Even now, after these past several years of only seeing you occasionally, after basically becoming strangers again, Yoongi felt strange lying to you. It didn’t feel good. Like he was reverting to ways he thought he had left behind in therapy. 

“No, something’s up, and Jungkook’s being weirdly secretive about it, too,” You leaned forward on your desk, looking him directly in the eyes. “Is there something we should know? Changkyun’s noticed it, too, over the last several months.” 

“Speaking of him,” Yoongi tried to deflect. “Where did you say he is?”

“He’s out,” You shrugged. “You can talk to me about further investment.”

Yoongi grimaced. “So that’s the thing,” He coughed uncomfortably. “Things aren’t--there isn’t. Uh. It isn’t looking like there’s going to be much left to invest in pretty soon. We’re drowning.” It felt wrong to actually say it out loud, even though the numbers had been saying it for so long.

Your eyebrows knitted together. “I thought you had this whole plan of recovery--”

Yoongi shook his head. “It’s not working fast enough. Changkyun already knows the other investors pulled out. I’m here in a last ditch effort to save some jobs.” He shifted again, then muttered. “I’m selling the company.”

“You’re what.” 

Yoongi couldn’t tell if you actually couldn’t hear him, or if you were surprised. He didn’t think there was any chance you didn’t see it coming--As Changkyun’s assistant, he was sure you got an inside look at how terribly things were going. 

“I’m selling the company,” He said again, louder this time. “I had my chance. I ran it into the ground. My employees shouldn’t suffer for that, though. If someone like Changkyun was to buy it, at least some of them could keep their jobs...”

“You didn’t run it into the ground,” You interrupted. “And you know that. It was failing long before you were put in charge, and even then you had to cater to investors who didn’t understand what was going on. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” 

Yoongi felt his cheeks heat up, and he coughed as an excuse to look away. “Thanks. For that. But,” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling restless suddenly. “Credit where credit is due, I didn’t fix things fast enough.”

“That isn’t how that saying works,” You muttered, grabbing a sticky note and jotting down a note to yourself. “I’ll talk to Changkyun.”

“Thanks,” He said, taking a couple steps back towards the door. 

“And Yoongi?” You added, giving him a small smile.

“Yeah,” He wasn’t sure what it was about the way you said it that made him nervous.

“It was good to see you.” 

---

Ever the playboy, Jungkook was flirting with a waitress when you walked into the restaurant. 

“I’m guessing the coffee was your doing?” You scoffed as you sat down in front of him. 

“Who, me?” Jungkook smiled innocently. “I would never tamper with a beverage I picked up for my best friend. Even if my annoying boss changed my plans and said he was going to your office instead of me and took said beverage. I definitely wouldn’t put five packets of salt in it when he wasn’t looking.”

“That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever--Why do you do things like this? What goes on in your head?”

His smile only grew. “Did you spit it out?”

“Who wouldn’t?” You raised an eyebrow. 

Jungkook did a little triumphant fist pump. “How many times did he spit out your coffee when you worked for him?” He asked excitedly, not waiting for an answer. “And now he knows how it feels on the other side of that.”

You shook your head. “So petty,” You chastised. 

“So funny,” Jungkook corrected without missing a beat. 

“I would have appreciated a heads up,” You sighed, opening the menu only to have Jungkook reach over and slide it away from you.

“I knew you might be conveniently out of the office if I told you he would be dropping by,” He shrugged. “Also I kind of already ordered for you.” 

“God damnit,” You complained, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms. “You always do that. I’m capable of ordering my own lunch, butthead.”

“You’re always late!” He practically whined back. “And then I get awkward, and I feel bad for taking up a whole table and then some random mutters about me getting stood up--which, sorry, but do I look like I get stood up?--so I panic order!” He pouted. “Also. I have great taste. You always like what I get.”

You narrowed your eyes, but let it slide for now. “I didn’t mean a heads up about Yoongi coming in. I meant about his company tanking.” 

“Oh,” Jungkook’s pout dropped. “He told you about that, huh? I guess it really is that bad...” He tilted his head to the side. “If it goes under, I might have to be a regular doctor...Y/n. I might have to see patients again.” He shivered dramatically, and you rolled your eyes. 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” You assured him dryly. “I’m more concerned about Yoongi--He’s given it his all. What’s he going to do once it’s gone?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Actually live a little, I hope.”

--

A/N *cough* ‘sup let’s not talk about the fact that this has taken me nearly 3 years to update and pretend everything is normal. Yeah? Yeah. What are your thoughts and feelings? Is the time skip too extra? Or just extra enough? Would you have drank the coffee to be polite or spat it out? Let me know! As always I love hearing from you all! 

If you’ve stuck around this long, omg thank you so much. If you’re new to my writing, welcome and thank you so much. It’s been a hot minute, I hope you’re all doing well and staying safe out there! I’ve been stressed as fuck and figured there’s no better cure than writing absolute crack. Stay tuned for nonsense!

#yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #suga imagine #suga scenarios #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts ceo au #yoongi crack #yoongi ceo au #suga crack #suga fanfic #suga fluff #suga fanfiction #that's all the tags I remember #haha side note #Jk's character is heavily influenced by two guys that I work with #one of them is a playboy asshole who actually tries to be a good person if you call him out on it #the other is actually a really good guy who tries a little too hard but has a warm heart but would absolutely put salt in a friends coffee

[frozenartscapes]

I think Verdant Wind being added as Silver Snow copy paste dragged down the development. If VW wasn't added, then SS, CF, and AM could have all been more fleshed out (so Edelgard could have been shown killing Thales personally and Dimitri's arc would be gradual instead of him going from batshit crazy to "good boy" instantly). So I think either VW should have not been made or SS was scrapped and Claude could actually get a story about him.

So here's what I'm thinking for Verdant Wind, because honestly if it were up to me it would be a total overhaul, and if put into the context of the game's development might have had to be a DLC or something if they were as pressed for time as it seems.

You pick Claude and the Golden Deer and the first half of the game follows many of the same story beats. (Though one thing I would like to see in White Clouds is more opportunities to interact with the other Houses outside of free time, like maybe a couple missions where two houses are sent to the same place to back each other up. This would then allow for supports to form between characters who might not necessarily be in the same house).

Shit goes down, Edelgard is revealed to be the Flame Emperor, war is declared, Byleth falls into a ravine for 5 years.

You come back and things are in a similar place as they start off in VW. You meet Claude at the monastery, he fills you in on what's been going on, and you decide that action needs to taken. However, that action is not "let's go to war too" but instead more of a diplomatic move. You decide to meet with Edelgard in a parlay at Grondor and she initially accepts, but when you both arrive you discover Dimitri has come with an army of his own. Not believing this isn't some sort of ambush on Claude's part, Edelgard calls the parlay off and initiates the battle of Grondor. However, this time you and Claude decide to stop Dimitri and successfully manage to intervene in the Kingdom's attack. Edelgard and her forces still retreat back to Enbarr but Dimitri is able to be captured and (eventually) reasoned with. (In this version Dimitri hasn't fully lost it like he does in AM. He still has some old friends and supports so he doesn't end up completely feral. He's still deeply distrusting of Edelgard but he at least agrees to help Claude find out a motive before killing her).

The attack on Fort Merceus is basically the same. You succeed in seizing it only for the whole thing to be blown up by the Javelins. Everyone manages to escape, though, including notable people from Edelgard's army. They are just as confused and horrified about the strike as you and your team.

Edelgard isn't up for talking this time around so you are forced to lay siege to Enbarr. This also plays out very similarly to VW, but the end cutscene is different. First, Claude is there. Then, rather than killing Edelgard, you extend a hand out to her, instead. She's hesitant, but Claude manages to convince her that there are no schemes this time. They just want to talk. He mentions the Javelins and how even her own army didn't seem to know what they were. When she blanches at the mention, he realizes that these "allies" of hers aren't exactly the most trustworthy of people.

Edelgard then reluctantly tells you, Claude, and Dimitri about Thales and TWSITD. She's hesitant because this is all sensitive information but she doesn't have much to lose at this point, what with Claude's army basically occupying Enbarr. She reveals what happened to her and her family, why she has two Crests, and why she's been forced to work with Thales. It's Dimitri who approaches first once she's finished, moving quickly and reaching out a hand before anyone can react. Edelgard flinches but instead of going for her neck, his hand comes to rest gently on her shoulder. "Where is that monster?" Dimitri hisses, "So I can tear his head from his body."

Once the three leaders form a tentative alliance, Edelgard reveals where Rhea has been hidden. She tells them all that she tried to keep her from too much harm, but she didn't have much control over the situation. Rhea is released and initially weak from imprisonment. She is also briefed on what happened to Edelgard, and why she started the war in the first place.

With a new target in mind, the alliance of nations storm Shambhala. Rhea has been healed up enough to aid in this battle. You defeat Thales, and he responds by launching all the Javelins he can. Rhea goes on to intercept them as she does in the game, but this time things go differently. Hubert points out that as long as Thales has a hand on the rune activating the Javelins, they'll keep coming. So Edelgard charges him along with Dimitri. The two cut through any mage who tries to stop them, and ultimately Edelgard sees vengeance for herself and her family by killing Thales herself. This halts the Javelins before they become too overwhelming for Rhea, and she returns, a little hurt but ok.

Everyone returns to Garreg Mach for celebrations, and also political discussions because there are a lot of things that now need to be covered. Rhea reveals everything about the Nabateans, Crests, and the Relics. Once she learns the true history of Fodlan, Edelgard makes her case for her own goals. She still believes that society should move away from putting so much importance on Crests, especially now that she knows where they truly came from. But she admits that uniting the land under one banner and disbanding the Church entirely would be taking things too far. Dimitri agrees with Edelgard, despite some protests from Faerghus officials. But he decides that the Hero's Relics have served their purpose and it is time they let the souls of the dead rest. Claude is insistent on Fodlan opening up to other nations, to which the other leaders agree, too. Rhea also decides that it is time she steps away from being Archbishop, but she does not appoint Byleth to the role.

A messenger then interrupts with news that a strange and powerful army is currently sweeping across Fodlan. They connect the dots and realize that it is Nemesis. They all decide to confront him as a group, showing off the might of a Fodlan united under peace. Rhea, fearful of mass casualties, tells Byleth what she did when they were a baby, explaining why they have the Crest of Flames and can wield the Sword of the Creator. There isn't a lot of time to unpack all of that because Nemesis is basically at their door, but Byleth still thanks Rhea for telling them.

They confront Nemesis all as one united front and defeat him. There are many parallels in cutscenes that call back the first cutscene of the game. The difference this time is that Rhea isn't facing Nemesis alone. In the last cutscene after defeating him in gameplay, Claude's arrow fake-out kicks things off, but it also includes Edelgard, Dimitri, and Rhea charging him alongside Byleth. In the end, Nemesis is run-through by the Sword of the Creator, the Sword of Seiros, Aymr, Areadbhar, and a bolt from Failnaught. He goes down, his army dissolves into dust, and victory is finally secured.

After that it's revealed what happens in Fodlan: each nation stays as their own land. Dimitri takes his place as the King of Faerghus and works on moving the kingdom away from knighthood and militaristic practices. He devotes more time and money to revitalizing the land and towns, building better roads between cities, and expanding education and other important services. Edelgard also works on fixing and providing social services like education and healthcare to the Adrestian people. She forms a strong alliance with the other nations, utilizing the fact that Adrestia has so much viable farmland to ensure no one goes hungry. She also grants Brigid its freedom, and works closely with Seteth and Rhea in Church reformations. Claude leaves Fodlan to take his place as King of Almyra, though he promises to visit often. Lorenz takes over the Alliance, and like the other two leaders works diligently to provide a better life for his people. Rhea eventually steps away from her role as Archbishop. She does offer it to Byleth, but you get a choice as to whether or not you want to take it. If you don't Rhea says she understands and that Seteth will take on a temporary position until a human can be found to carry on the legacy. She agrees that an immortal being shouldn't hold that kind of power forever.

There's one final cinematic cutscene in which every character with a Hero's Relic solemnly returns it to the Holy Tomb, with Byleth laying the Sword of the Creator last. They glance up at the Throne with all the characters visible behind them, and they smile.

Now Sothis can finally rest.

---

A couple other fun things that could be included in this route:

Because of the mentioned supports between houses, it is possible to s-support any of the House Leaders, not just Claude in this route

To make things extra fun, every unit could potentially be playable in the final battle

Edelgard and Thales can have special dialogue where she basically tells him to go fuck himself before killing him with the axe he gave her

None of the Black Eagles who stay with Edelgard would actually die in the siege on Enbarr, but would have unique "oh no I've been captured" quotes

The cutscene with Edelgard's surrender could start exactly like it does in SS/VW so if people saw that first, they would at first think she was going to die. This would then make Byleth extending a hand out in peace that much more impactful

Every now and then Dimitri and Edelgard could make a comment about how odd it is to be working with each other, and how they are still surprised neither one of them died after all those years of war, a BIG wink to the camera regarding the other routes where one or both of them don't make it

Claude can bring in Nader and other Almyran reinforcements for the final battle, and as a result could result in unique battle quotes from Rhea and Nader with the two of them commending each other and realizing that tensions need not be so high between their nations

Because different supports can happen between houses, there isn't as much pressure to recruit everyone by the end of White Clouds

There could be different paralogues for characters, along with ones already in the game that might be route specific. Dimitri's paralogue where he takes on Cornelia can be a side event that helps strengthen the Kingdom's army in future battles. Bernadetta/Petra's paralogue would allow for allies from Brigid to join in future battles. Edelgard could get a new paralogue where they have to sweep out the last remnants of various TWS labs and lairs, and it's made clear just how bad it had been for her.

Like, I know this is a lot, and executing it as a playable section of the game would be a lot of work. This is all just hypothetical, of course. This would be what I would recommend for the game, but as I say this just know that I don't expect any of this to actually be made. These are just some ideas for how VW could theoretically be changed.

The game would still need a route for Claude, as he is one of the three main choices at the very start of the game. I don't necessarily think SS should be removed, either, because that choice of "kill or don't kill edelgard" is still an incredibly poignant moment that would be lost if SS was gone. But I do wish VW or SS played out differently or at the very least used different cutscenes. The fact that Edelgard dies the same way twice kind of sucks. (This, on top of Dimitri dying off-screen multiple times and Rhea basically being kneecapped and not useful in 3/4 routes)

But I like Claude's route being a Golden Route. It is the Golden Deer after all.

#look i might have an edelgard bias #but i honestly think there should be a route where none of them have to die #it would be super cathartic especially after playing the other routes #verdant wind fix #fe three houses #headcanons #au ideas #claude #dimitri #rhea #byleth #edelgard #long post

[gukyi]

the courtship chronicles | ksj

summary: dating has never been anywhere near your list of priorities, but kim seokjin is nothing if not determined. and when he comes to the rescue and accompanies you to your friend’s wedding, he decides to request only one thing in return: for you to let him take you out on fake dates and shower you in fake affection, and show you how much fun dating can be. he just needs to remember to keep the part where he’s been in love with you under wraps.

{friends to lovers!au, fake dating!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, and emotional hurt/comfort! word count: 20k a/n: big, big, big thanks to @aurawatercolor for commissioning me for this piece!! i honestly am so happy with this fic and even happier to give my main man kim seokjin the love and attention he deserves!!! this fic is pretty much slow burn from start to finish, so enjoy!

check out the post-script drabble here!

“You’re bringing a plus one, right?” Cynthia demands on the other end of the line, voice frazzled and breaths quick. “You better, because I already factored it into the wedding budget. There will be food meant for a plus one for you which I already paid for so you better bring one. I paid for it already.” She’s running in circles, trying to make her point. It’s clear she’s got an awful lot on her plate as it is. 

“Can’t I just eat their serving myself? You know I’m a growing woman,” you plead. Cynthia and the rest of her bridesmaids have been on your back about bringing a plus one ever since she got engaged. 

“No, you have to bring a plus one. Even if it’s your mom, Y/N, I don’t care,” Cynthia says. She makes to say something else, but then pauses. “Actually, I do care. Can it please be a date? Even like, someone you met off of Hinge. I don’t know. Not your mom. Don’t bring her. That would be only a little weird,” she corrects herself. 

“Weirder than some stranger I met off Hinge?” You ask pointedly. 

“No. At least they’re around your age. I want to see you applying yourself, Y/N!” Cynthia scolds. “Go out there and find a man! Pick him up off of the street if you have to! Anything!” She rallies. “Being single is cool and everything but being in love is just as fulfilling!”

“Of course you would think that, you’re getting married tomorrow,” you tell her, sighing. Can’t she just accept that you aren’t really looking for a relationship right now? And haven’t been looking for one since you graduated college three years ago?

“I love my future husband, thank you very much. We plan on leading a very full and extraordinary life with our fifteen dogs and eighteen geckos.”

“Okay, Miss We Bought A Zoo,” you tease. 

Cynthia laughs. “Pretty soon it’ll be Mrs. We Bought A Zoo, thank you very much!”

You hear a knock on the door, turning to check the kitschy cuckoo clock you had found at a flea market for five dollars for the time. It’s six on the dot.

“I have to go, Cynthia, Seokjin’s here,” you tell her, already making to hang up the phone as you head towards the door, using your shoulder and ear to hold it in place. “We’re making a family dinner for two, tonight.”

“Bring Seokjin! He’ll charm the shit out of my mom, I just know it,” Cynthia tells you. “Bring him! Tell him to clear his fucking calendar for tomorrow.”

“Bye, Cynthia,” you say as you reach out for the doorknob, twisting it to reveal your grinning best friend with a bag full of goodies on the other side. “I have to go.”

“Send Seokjin my love! I don’t even expect a wedding gift from him! His presence is enough!” Cynthia shouts, loud enough for Seokjin to hear everything despite the phone not even being on speaker. You hang up before Cynthia can say anything else to goad Seokjin into accompanying you to her wedding, sending an apologetic smile his way. 

“Sorry, that was—”

“Cynthia?” Seokjin finishes with a grin. You usher him into your apartment, letting him place his bag on your kitchen countertop as he pulls out two wine glasses to get the party started. You sigh, helpless. “Yeah, I figured. She’s getting married tomorrow, isn’t she?”

“She’s uber stressed, if that’s what you mean to say,” you correct, joining him in your kitchen as you start to unpack what he brought, countless tupperware containers filled with vegetables, meats, pastas. There’s even an entire bag of rice. Does Seokjin really think you have no rice in your apartment? Seriously? 

“I can imagine,” Seokjin agrees with a laugh. “Thank god you and I aren’t getting married anytime soon, right?” With a flourish, he produces a bottle of red wine you had been saving in your fridge for this very occasion, filling up half of each wine glass. 

“I’ll toast to that,” you say, smiling as you hold up your glass. Seokjin swirls the wine around in his own before holding it out. 

“Here’s to not being romantically involved whatsoever!” Seokjin hurrahs, and you laugh at his honesty as your glasses clink together, the sound echoing around your kitchen. “Who says you need to be married to prepare a kickass meal together.”

“You’re in charge of the meat,” you immediately tell him. You’ve never been the biggest fan of handling it. Vegetables are much more your speed. They also don’t get angry at you when you make a mistake cooking them. Besides, Seokjin’s always been the better food mediator between the two of you. 

“Like always,” he teases, giving you a nudge as he pulls the pots and pans from the cupboard beneath the counter and hands you one of the seventeen different cutting boards you have in random places in your kitchen. You don’t know what it is about them, but every single month you find yourself buying a brand new cutting board. They may as well be drugs. “You should really branch out and try cooking beef sometimes. I’ll teach you, hey? So you don’t have to be scared of it.”

“I am not scared of cooking beef,” you tell him sternly, flinching when Seokjin places the meat in the oil-slick pan and it begins to sizzle and pop. 

“If you say so, Y/N,” Seokjin singsongs. “You know, I’d make a pretty good teacher. I reckon I could show you a thing or two about cooking.”

“Okay, Mr. Cooking Is My Passion,” you say, scrunching up your nose. “Just because I can’t make a damn filet mignon does not make me a bad cook,” you tell him, “whose soup do you ask for when you’re sick and in bed with a cold? That’s right, mine!” You poke his chest for good measure, making him put his hands up in surrender. 

“Alright, alright, I concede,” he says with a laugh. “Your soup is delicious.”

“Thank you,” you say, proudly. “How about I make a couple of servings while you cook the meat?”

Seokjin blows a kiss your way. “Y/N, You know just the way to my heart.”

An hour later, you and Seokjin have whipped up an impressive set of dishes, from your homemade vegetable soup to his traditional bulgogi bibimbap, a small bowl of kimchi in the middle of the table accompanied by some sauteed vegetables and a serving of glass noodles. There’s enough to feed a family of four (one of whom could be a ravenous high-school football player) on your table, and yet, you and Seokjin never fail to finish it all. 

Seokjin takes one bite out of his bulgogi bibimbap and moans in delight, tossing his head back as he holds out two thumbs up, chopsticks clanging onto the side of the bowl as he drops them. “Wow,” he says loudly, patting himself on the back. “I’m amazing. Gordon Ramsey wants what I have.”

“There’s no way it’s that good,” you tease, even though it most definitely is that good. Seokjin is, without a doubt, the best chef you have ever met, the best chef whose food you have ever had the pleasure of eating. If he weren’t employed by a publicity company he would almost certainly be the owner of the best restaurant in the city. The New York Times would visit his restaurant and write a five-star review to be published in the paper the next morning. You take a bite of it yourself, chewing it slowly and pretending to ponder its flavor. It’s delicious. It’s never not delicious. “Hmm… it’s alright.”

“‘Alright’?” Seokjin shouts, slandered. “Just ‘alright’?” He slams a fist onto the table in anger. “This is blasphemy! It’s amazing!” Grabbing the knife beside his plate, he holds it under your chin dramatically, glaring into your eyes. “You better retract that statement, or else!”

“Or else what, Mr. Kim?” You say, desperately resisting the urge not to burst into laughter. Seokjin’s not doing much better, lips pursed tight in an effort not to cackle aloud. 

“Or else I’ll have no choice but to eat all of your bulgogi bibimbap for you!” He cries, reaching over with grabby hands to take your plate away from you. 

Just as he suspected, you hold on tight to your plate, refusing to let such good food go into the mouth of someone who has his own plate. It’s then, as you’re playing tug-of-war with your food, that Seokjin finally breaks into chuckles, hiccuping out his laugh as he concedes and lets you eat your food in peace. 

“Just as I suspected, peasant!” He says proudly. “It’s delicious!”

You put a heaping chopstick-ful into your mouth. “It really is, Seokjin. You always do such a great job.”

“I’m honored,” he says, bowing slightly. “Food is what brings people together.” He holds out a piece of kimchi in front of your mouth, and you eat it obligingly. “Speaking of bringing people together, what was Cynthia shouting about on the phone?”

“Oh, just her wedding, you know,” you tell him with a shrug. “The usual. She’s desperate for me to bring a plus one,” you say. Marriage is disillusioning her. She thinks everybody around her should have a love like her own. And while it is a wonderful, fairytale-esque thought, you just aren’t really on the same wavelength. You never have been. “She even factored it into the budget to guilt-trip me into doing it.”

“Why don’t you?” Seokjin asks, downing a spoonful of soup. “Going to a wedding alone can’t be too much fun.”

“I won’t be alone,” you protest. “I’m one of her closest friends. I’ll know a bunch of people there.”

“Yeah, but you won’t have brought someone who, by way of how plus-one’s work, will be obligated to be by your side the entire night. Who are you gonna dance with when Crazy in Love comes on, huh?” Seokjin points out. 

You frown. “I can dance by myself.”

“Yeah, but a plus-one would make it more fun! You guys can dougie, or whatever it is the cool kids do these days. Is dabbing still a thing?” He dabs, just to make a point. It’s cringey and awful and hilarious, all at once. 

“Stop, stop, you’re embarrassing yourself and I’m the only other person here,” you plead. “You and Cynthia are so on my ass about bringing a date, God. I just—I’m not really interested in anybody right now. Dating just isn’t my thing.”

“Has dating ever been your thing, Y/N?” Seokjin asks, even though he clearly knows the answer already. “I don’t think you’ve been on a date since sophomore year of college. Do you even know what dating is, anymore? Love?”

You roll your eyes. If there’s one person who’s a bigger hopeless romantic than Cynthia, it’s Seokjin. The man has an entire bookshelf of romance novels in his bedroom. He waxes poetic about falling in love every other day, about coming home to a significant other, a family, to cook for, to spend time with. He’s been on more Bumble dates in the past year than you can count on both hands and feet. 

“I know what it is,” you defend yourself, “I’m just—I don’t really believe in that, for me. I don’t ever see myself having it. I have friends. My family. That’s good enough. I don’t need romantic love.”

Seokjin scoffs. “What? You mean to tell me you don’t ever want to fall in love? Never ever? Come on, Y/N. Love is great! It makes you feel warm and happy, like one of those giant Costco teddy bears. Those are the material equivalent of love. Haven’t you always wanted a giant Costco teddy bear?”

“When I was five, yeah,” you tell him. “Listen, Seokjin, I get it. Love is great and amazing, I’m just not that interested. You and Cynthia have been trying to get me to go on a date for years and it doesn’t appeal to me whatsoever.”

“What about dating is unappealing?” Seokjin inquires. He’s determined. And you, the best friend, are weak. 

“I don’t know, having to meet new people, talk about yourself, try to see a future with them. It seems so tiring,” you say, sighing. Seokjin looks positively bewildered, because of course he enjoys dating—he’s so charismatic, charming, and outgoing. Even if a date goes poorly he still ends up with a new friend. “I’m just not that into doing that stuff.”

“Psh,” Seokjin says casually, skeptical. “I bet that if you just gave the whole dating thing a try, you might actually like it. You haven’t gone out on one in so long—maybe it’s different than what you remember. The last time you did it, we were all just college students.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you groan. “How exactly do you expect me to ‘give the whole dating thing a try’, then? Last time I checked, I wasn’t particularly interested in anybody.”

Seokjin pauses, pondering for a moment as he taps his chin with his pointer finger. Then, like a smack to the face, it hits him all at once, and in his excitement, he pounds his fist right onto the prongs of the fork by his plate. “Ow, holy shit!” He shouts, excited nonetheless.

“Oh my God, are you alright?” You ask, a little concerned and a lot amused.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he assures you, rubbing the side of his palm. “But what I was about to say, is why don’t we go out?”

You sputter, choking on the soup you had just taken a sip of. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

“Why don’t we date? It’ll be fun!” He says happily. 

“Seokjin, we’re friends,” you say. 

He shrugs, carefree. “Yeah, sure we are. But think about it: since we’re already so close, you won’t have to worry about introducing yourself to someone new. You won’t have to go through the whole tell me about yourself thing, we can just jump right into the dating part! It’ll be fun and you’ll get to see what dating is like past the introductions. How about it?” He asks. 

He thinks it’s brilliant. 

You think it’s ludicrous. 

“But, Seokjin, are we actually going to date? Like, be a couple? Because I don’t know if that’s what I was really aiming for with our friendship today,” you say hesitantly. You love Seokjin, sure, but you aren’t in love with Seokjin. You’ve been best friends since college. Won’t it be weird if you suddenly start dating? And doing other couple-y things?

Seokjin waves a hand around like a nonchalant businessman. “No, we won’t actually be boyfriend and girlfriend, or anything,” he promises. “It’ll just be fake. Make believe! Think of it as a dating test-run. What do you say?”

“You sound too enthusiastic for me not to be worried,” you tell him tentatively. He’s like an energetic salesman. It’s a little frightening. There must be some fine print you aren’t looking at. Something that you’re missing. “Are you sure about this? Like, do you want anything in return?”

“Anything in return to help my best friend find love?” He asks, scandalized. “Of course not!”

You frown. 

“Okay,” he gives in, “maybe some more soup. I’m about to visit my mom and she loves it.”

“Why don’t I just come with?” You suggest. Seokjin’s mom is the second-best chef you’ve ever met. Somewhere along the line, Seokjin took what he learned from her and improved it ten-fold. 

“Even better! Mom’s been begging me to bring you around sometime. How about it, do we have a deal?” He asks, holding his hand out. 

You sigh. He’s your best friend, and all he wants in return is for you to visit his mom with him. What’s the worst thing that could happen?

“Sure,” you say, conceding. “Why not?”

Seokjin’s first order of business as your self-appointed brand new not-real boyfriend, is to accompany you to Cynthia’s wedding as your plus-one. He does actually find a wedding gift on such short notice—a fairly new cookbook from which he had memorized the recipes already, so it was no longer of use to him. Because of course, Kim Seokjin is the only person on Earth who memorizes the one hundred recipes in a book just because he wants to. Where does he find the time?

[May 18th, 3:18PM]

Seokjin: Are we wearing matching colors? Seokjin: Or is that too senior prom?

You: As long as you don’t show up wearing white you should be fine

Seokjin: >_> Seokjin: You know that if I wore white the groom would drop everything and marry me instead ;-)

You: Only because of your charm You: I’m wearing pastel pink! I don’t suppose you have anything in your closet to go with that, do you?

[Seokjin is typing…]

[May 18th, 3:20PM]

Seokjin: Oh, Y/N, you don’t even need to ask twice

An hour later, Seokjin pulls up to the curb outside of your apartment complex in his Volkswagen, which is every bit as charismatic as he is, right as you’re scrambling to tug on your most comfortable heels (as if such a thing could exist!), running late, as per usual. The ceremony begins at 5:30 and you and Seokjin were meant to leave for the venue at four. 

It is 4:19. 

Frazzled, you rush around your apartment movie-montage style, tweaking strands of your hair in the mirror in the hallway and nabbing your bottomless bag on the coffee table. It’s not even really summer yet, but your apartment doesn’t have air conditioning and it’s becoming more and more of a curse as the globe slowly warms multiple degrees over the years. The true loser of climate change, rather than the polar bears, the bees, and coastal cities, is you, who thought renting a place with no air conditioning would be just fine. 

Desperate not to open the door to Seokjin with your forehead dripping, you dab off the beads of sweat gathered by your hairline with the skirt of your dress—whatever, you were going to sweat in it at some point—right as you hear the first knock. 

Seokjin’s fashion choices are usually rather conservative. He does work a somewhat menial half-office job, so he can’t roll up to his desk wearing the exceedingly stylish and exceedingly adventurous clothing that Namjoon and Taehyung wear, which, in turn, limits his closet. Lots of plain or argyle sweaters pulled over dress shirts with the collars peeking out, lots of navy jeans, lots of white sneakers and loafers. The only clothing item Seokjin does experiment with is socks, of which he has an impressive collection, ranging anywhere from corgi butts to Santa Claus. 

You didn’t really know what you were expecting when Seokjin said you didn’t need to ask twice after mentioning that you were wearing a pastel pink dress. He does own a couple of pink things, but as far as you’re aware (and you’re pretty aware, considering you’ve been best friends with him since the beginning of college), it amounts mostly to his sock stash and a couple of sweaters, which he most often wears under denim jackets or over dress shirts. 

What you most certainly aren’t expecting when you open the door is to see Seokjin standing on the other side in a full-on suit, a light grey color that complements the peach in his skin tone perfectly. More so, however, you hadn’t at all anticipated for him to be wearing a perfectly-matching pastel pink dress shirt underneath, complemented by a rather obnoxious bow tie with red hairs littered all over it. 

“Wow, okay,” you say, blinking just to make sure that your eyes are working perfectly. “It’s May, why do you look like Valentine’s Day threw up on you?”

Seokjin opens his mouth to send a witty response back to you, but the moment he lays his eyes on you, it’s as if all of the words have fallen from his lips. He swallows, hands fumbling with the bouquet in his hand. “Don’t say that to me like you aren’t also wearing the most Valentine’s Day dress I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s a pastel pink midi dress,” you tell him, frowning. “At least I’m not wearing something that has cartoon-y red hearts all over it,” you accuse, pointing to his bow tie. 

Seokjin gasps, offended. “Hey! This is my lucky bow tie. It’s never steered me wrong when it comes to love.”

You scoff. “I don’t think Cynthia and her fiancé need your bow tie’s help today. Have you ever seen someone more in love with another person than they are with each other?”

Seokjin pauses. He sighs a little bit, like there’s something weighing on his mind he refuses to divulge. You won’t press. You may be best friends, but you aren’t mind-readers, and sometimes, there are some secrets that have to be kept even from each other. Yours is that when you guys were juniors in college and Seokjin was running late for class because he was desperate to find the last Pop-Tart in his apartment, you had actually eaten it the night before when he was in the bathroom. 

You wonder what his is. 

“You never know,” he finally says, “we could always use the extra luck, don’t you think?”

You nod, “I suppose. What’s with the flowers? You know you aren’t supposed to bring them to a wedding. They probably have enough flowers as it is.”

As if caught off guard by the flowers held in his very own hand, Seokjin turns his gaze down to look at the bouquet, a collection of baby’s breath, tulips, and carnations. “Oh,” he says, speechless. “Well, I was dropping by the flower shop anyway to bother Hoseok, and he said that they had some leftover stock that nobody wanted because they were a little smaller than the other flowers, so he gave them to me at a discount. They’re for you, I guess.” Like a nervous high schooler going on his very first date, he shoves them towards you, making you step back to avoid getting punched in the chest. 

“Seriously? You didn’t have to do that, Seokjin,” you say happily, pleasantly surprised at the bouquet. Sure, some of them are a little wilted, a little dehydrated, but you get flowers so infrequently (in fact, you don’t think you’ve gotten any since Seokjin sent you one of those singular rose grams during your first Valentine’s Day at college), that the gesture is as good as gold. 

“Eh,” he says, shrugging casually. “I don’t really have anybody else I would want to give them to.”

Gleefully, you take them from his outstretched hand and immediately rush to put them in some sort of vase. You, like the piece of millennial trash that you are, end up using a random empty mason jar you find in one of your kitchen cabinets. 

“What time is it?” Seokjin asks, looking around for a clock. 

“Late, we have to go,” you instantly respond, shooing him out of the door and darting down the stairs because the elevator in your apartment building is about four hundred years old and doesn’t even have a light bulb inside of it. You cram into Seokjin’s tiny white Volkswagen, which just screams hipster-mom-in-her-forties, and he speeds off at a velocity that tiny Volkswagen beetles were not meant to go at. 

Surprisingly enough, you make it to the wedding venue with a few minutes to spare, which you largely attribute to the fact that Seokjin was driving faster than some of the SUVs on the highway on the way over. He isn’t a bad or reckless driver. He’s just a driver with certain priorities that rank higher than the act of driving itself. 

“Ah, the smell of nervousness and love,” Seokjin says as you step out of the car, inhaling dramatically. “Smells like a wedding.”

“Smells like the ceremony is about to begin,” you say, and you both rush over the pebbled path to the entrance, giggling like a bunch of high schoolers as you stumble through the front doors very ungracefully. 

“Wow,” Seokjin says, impressed at the extent of decoration. Cynthia had been raving on and on about how she was aiming to have a sort of romantic, Impressionist art painting vibe to the wedding, lots of pastels, flowers, twinkling lights. “This is very impressive. One hundred out of ten.”

“Cynthia’s been planning this for months, so I’m sure she’ll be pleased to hear it,” you say, ushering yourselves into the main wedding hall as the rest of the guests file in from chatting outside as the clock ticks down. There are two seats close to the front that Cynthia’s saved for you and your plus-one, which she most certainly will be very happy to see you have brought with you, in the form of your best friend, Seokjin, of course. 

“Aren’t you excited?” Seokjin whispers as everyone settles down. “Can’t you feel the love in the air?”

“It’s not in my genetics to feel that sort of thing,” you retort back, earning a pout from your best friend in return. 

“Well, it’s in mine, and let me tell you, Y/N, it feels like love!” He exclaims happily. “You should be basking in it.”

“Are you?” You round on him. No point in not practicing what you preach. 

“Always,” Seokjin says, gazing at you happily. He seems so content, in this very moment, about to watch a ceremony that will bond two people together for the rest of their lives, devote themselves to each other, wholly and completely. “I’m always basking in it.”

Then, the officiant steps up to the microphone at the front of the room. Seokjin reaches his hand over to grab yours, letting it rest in his palm on his lap, and the ceremony begins. 

Going to weddings as a child, even as an adult to a fairly distant coworker, they’ve always felt so detached from you as a guest. Sure, the ceremonies are wonderful and you’re happy for the newly-married couple, but it’s almost as if you’re watching a movie and instead of being another character, you’re part of the audience. When you leave the wedding venue, when all of the dancing and eating and celebrating is over, you forget all about it, and you move on with your life. 

But knowing the two people standing up at the altar as more than just coworkers, or a distant relative, knowing them as friends, as near family, tints everything in a rosy pink. It’s the most beautiful wedding ceremony you’ve ever had the pleasure of attending. It’s humbling and real and unrehearsed, romantic and funny and meaningful all at once. It makes you feel warm inside, truly, truly happy for your friend and for what is to come in the next chapter of her life. 

Crying was pretty much unavoidable. It was mostly on Seokjin’s end—he’s not as close with either of them as you are, but he certainly loves love much more than you do—but some tears were shed on your end, as well. This is the sort of thing you’d want to talk about for years to come, even after you walk out, in the hopes that a constant reminder will prevent it from ever fading from your memory. 

As weddings go, the next part is the best part: free food. You get to your tables and Cynthia’s fancy (and expensive) caterers come whooshing around with bottles of wine and pitchers of water, filling up the glasses on your tables as the wedding party prepares to enter. You’re seated next to some other old friends from college, ones you recognize and ones you don’t, and ones that Seokjin is very happy to start chatting up the moment you take your seats. 

“Are you here together?” One of the men—you think his name is Nathan(?)—asks, pointing to the two of you. 

“No,” you say. 

“Yes,” Seokjin says. 

You both turn to glare at each other as Nathan—no, maybe Noah—furrows his brows, clearly having not received the response he was aiming for. Seokjin makes a bunch of aggressive and dramatic facial gestures to remind you that you two are fucking dating, remember? Even though it’s not actually real, and that was the part you were focusing on. The not real part. 

“We are,” you correct awkwardly, even though Whatshisface seems to have moved on from the topic. “He’s my plus-one.”

“I’m not as tight with the bride as I am with one of her closest friends,” Seokjin says jokingly, even though you’re the only one who laughs. 

“Yeah,” one of the girls chimes in. “You guys were best friends in college.”

“Still are,” you say, grinning. At least you don’t have to lie about that. 

“So cute,” the same girl says romantically. “I wish I could fall in love with my best friend,” she turns to the man she’s with who clearly doesn’t want to be here whatsoever. “You guys must be so happy.”

“It’s not always a walk in the park,” Seokjin warns, and you don’t have time to smack him in the chest and ask him what the hell he means by that, as the officiant taps onto the microphone to begin to announce the entrance of the wedding party. 

As each couple, each bridesmaid and groomsman, walk through the door, you can’t help but wonder why Seokjin said it wasn’t always a walk in the park to be together. Are you that awful to fake date? 

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” Cynthia’s father asks, tapping his teaspoon against the wine glass in his hand. “I’d just like to make a toast.” He turns to where Cynthia and her fiancé are seated, and he looks on the verge of tears. “For as long as I’ve lived, I’ve never seen two people love each other so selflessly. When they’re together, they make grey skies turn blue, turn night into day. All I can wish for you both is that you will forever be each other’s best friend, each other’s rock. There is no greater joy in life than to get to spend the entirety of it with your best friend. Congratulations, Cynthia and James. We are so lucky to know you both.”

Everybody begins to clap. 

Everybody, except Seokjin. 

You notice that his hands are resting in his lap, and when you turn to look at him, you see his eyes welling up, his smile soft and wistful. 

“You alright?” You ask quietly, giving him a nudge with your shoulder. 

Seokjin looks back at you like you’ve caught him off guard. “Me? Yeah.”

“You’re crying,” you point out. 

He shrugs, blinking to let the tears roll down his cheeks. “I just love that,” he explains. “Love knowing that some of us can be so lucky to spend the rest of our lives with our best friends by our sides.”

 According to the ancient law of weddings, the reception is where all guests are mandated to get out of their seats and boogie-oogie-oogie. At least, that’s what Seokjin says, when the food gets whisked away and the space morphs into a dance floor, tables in the center cleared as the bride goes to change in her mandated second dress, because one just isn’t expensive enough as it is. Seokjin just seems to know everything about weddings. It’s almost as if he’s planned one himself. 

“Just wait until all of the stuffy, traditional dances are over,” Seokjin whispers into your ear as Cynthia and her father share a dance. Seokjin looks like he’s about to jump out of his seat, desperate to get onto the dance floor. “You’ve never seen me dance at a wedding.”

“I’ve never seen you dance at all,” you correct, excluding all of the dabbing he did in 2016 when it was still a cool thing to dab. 

“Then you’re in for a real treat,” he says smugly. 

Sure enough, the moment the rest of the guests are invited onto the dance floor to drop it low, Seokjin is the first one out of his chair, and you, the second, begrudgingly dragged to the center by your over-enthusiastic best friend. He’s always been absolutely shameless in everything he does, which makes for high confidence and low embarrassment, two things you are certainly not the strongest in. Which is exactly why you end up side-stepping awkwardly like a geek at senior prom, while he uses every single one of his limbs to express his passion for whatever generic pop song is blasting through the speakers. 

Cynthia’s never been one for niche, hipster music.

“Come on, Y/N, have a little fun!” Seokjin encourages, grabbing onto your wrist and rapidly waving it up and down, making you shake. 

“You can have enough fun for the both of us,” you tell him, still just as aware of everybody else’s opinion of you as you were in high school. Some things really never change. 

“Impossible! Come on!” He says, and you have no idea what dance move he’s about to break into from his positioning, and then you suppose you’ll never know, because the song immediately switches to an acoustic one by Ed Sheeran, which is the most generic type of slow song you could possibly think of. 

“Grab your boys and girls, everyone,” the DJ says, a random white guy who definitely would prefer to make mixtapes in his basement than do this shit. “This one’s for love!”

You don’t even have time to take another step before Seokjin is grabbing your hand with his own and pulling you in close to him. He holds your one hand out and places his other on your waist, and instinctively, you rest your hand on his shoulder. 

When you went to senior prom in high school, your date was this terribly nervous friend of a friend, who asked you because you both didn’t have a real date to go with, and you figured it would be better to go with an acquaintance than nobody at all. And it was sort of fun, because you sat at a table with all of your friends and ate decent senior prom food, and it wasn’t in your stinky high school gymnasium but a fairly nice country club. But when the only slow song of the night came on, thus ensued the most awkward three minutes of your entire high school career. 

This is by no means an exact science, but you figure that the people you are closest to are the people you can slow dance with without it being terrible and awkward and awful. You did it with your parents when you were a little girl in the living room of your family home. You did it with Cynthia at two in the morning one night when she had just gotten dumped by this absolutely rotten boy. 

And now, you’re doing it with Seokjin. And it isn’t terrible or awkward or awful at all. You sway to the soft strums of the guitar and it feels just right. The feeling of his hand in yours, on your waist, of yours on his shoulder. There’s less than a six inches of distance and you feel as close as you have always been. Seokjin feels so natural. He always has, and you know that he always will. There’s no doubt when it comes to him, no regret. 

“Isn’t this nice?” Seokjin asks, grinning at you. 

“Only because it’s with you,” you say back with a smile. Seokjin beams. 

Later, when the slow dance is over and you make your way back to your table so you can watch your best friend make a fool of himself from a distance. Cynthia drops by, blissful. 

“I knew you’d bring Seokjin! He’s charming the pants off of my mom as we speak,” Cynthia says happily. You both crane your neck to see him teaching Cynthia’s mom the floss, outdated as per usual. 

“Yeah, I mean,” you say with a shrug, “who else was I going to bring?”

“He makes you happy, doesn’t he?” Cynthia asks. She looks proud. She deserves it. 

You turn back to look at Seokjin, on the verge of tears of laughter as Cynthia’s mom successfully flosses for the first time. He’s so wonderful. The light of your damn life. “Yeah. He does.”

When the fair comes to town, you don’t find out from posters stapled to utility posts and taped to traffic lights. Nor do you find out from word of mouth, from the two strangers in your favorite (slightly overpriced) coffee shop ahead of you in line. It’s not even your coworkers who mention it to you in passing one day because their eight-year-old has been begging them to go but they can’t because they have a dentist appointment.

It is, because who else would it be, of course, Seokjin, who texts you at 4:18PM on that Saturday and says:

[May 27th, 4:18PM]

Seokjin: I’m on my way over to your apartment to pick you up Seokjin: Don’t ask questions

And it is, in every possible way, the scariest thing you have ever received on your phone. Seokjin’s always been one for spontaneity, but ever since the two of you graduated and stopped feeling the urge to go out to McDonald’s at three in the morning, random activities have become less of a rule and more of an exception. But it’s a Saturday, which means you don’t have to go to work, and it’s near-evening, which means you’ve been sitting at home doing absolutely nothing all day as it is. And it’s May, which means that the sun only sets at seven at night and there is so much to be done in this wonderful weather. 

So, Seokjin’s on his way. 

You spend the next seven minutes (Seokjin lives approximately eight minutes by car from where you live, not that you’re counting, or anything) changing out of the yoga pants you’ve been wearing since you returned from work Friday evening and trying to make yourself look as presentable as possible. You don’t know where he’s taking you. He could be bringing you to an alley to murder you for your inheritance. He’s definitely on your will, that’s for sure. You want to look nice. 

Seven minutes later, you see his tiny white Volkswagen pull up outside your apartment complex as you’re slipping on some sandals. He hops out of the driver’s seat and scurries into the lobby, which signals to you that he is a man on a mission, and you are simply the best friend who gets roped along for the ride. He knocks on your door thirty seconds after that, and you linger for a few moments so as not to seem like you’ve been anxiously awaiting his arrival. 

“Let’s go,” Seokjin declares in lieu of a hello. He reaches out to grab onto your wrist, pulling you out of the door as you frantically make sure you have your bag with you, otherwise you’ll be phone-less, key-less, and lip-balm-less. Three equally terrible fates. 

“What? Now? No explanation, nothing?”

“I parked in the no parking fire lane with my blinkers on, which means we have to go right now. We also have to go because I am very excited about where we are going,” Seokjin elaborates, though it does nothing to clarify the situation at hand. Other than the fact that if you don’t get into his car right now, he’s got a ticket to pay. 

“But where are we going?” You ask again, as Seokjin and you scramble down the stairs to make it to his Volkswagen before the security guard in the lobby starts shouting at him for his illegal parking job. 

“The fair!” Seokjin says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Did you see it was in town?”

“No,” you say dumbly. 

“Oh,” Seokjin says awkwardly. “Well, it is, and I feel like we haven’t seen each other in a while—”

“It’s been three days.”

“—and we haven’t gone out on a real date yet, you and me.” Seokjin explains as you get to his car. Luckily, there is no angry security guard nor a ticket underneath his windshield wiper, so you slide into the passenger seat and he drives off. 

“Yes, we have,” you object. “Cynthia’s wedding counts as a real date.” He was literally your plus-one. What more could define the word ‘date’?

Seokjin scrunches his nose up in clear disagreement. “No, it doesn’t,” he argues back. “Cynthia was going to tear your arm off if you didn’t bring me with. That was a date out of obligation.”

“Aren’t all of these dates out of obligation?”

You expect some sort of witty response, but instead, you’re met with silence as Seokjin opens the driver’s side door, the two of you looking over the top of his Volkswagen wordlessly, each waiting for something. 

What? It’s not like you’re wrong. Seokjin is taking you out on dates to get a feel for what a real, blossoming relationship is like. Except this isn’t real, and your relationship is far from blossoming. It’s bloomed, already. Into an irreplaceable friendship. 

“Yeah, well,” Seokjin sputters, for once in his life, speechless. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, sitting roughly in the driver’s seat as you get into the passenger side, watch as he fumbles to put the keys into the ignition. “Don’t you want to know what a first date is supposed to be like?”

“You don’t have to take me on a fake first date just to spend time with me,” you tell him, the two of you facing forward, staring at the road in front of you as he drives. The radio is playing, some generic alternative rock song that neither of you are familiar enough to warrant turning up the volume for. Seokjin’s always preferred listening to the radio over his own music. Something about ambience while he drives. “We can spend time together wherever. Even if we’re just in my apartment.”

Seokjin’s wonderful and the best and one of the (if not the) greatest people you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, but he doesn’t need to do all of this for you. It’s enough for him to text you in the morning to remind you to drink a glass of water before you eat anything to wake your body up. Enough for him to leave leftovers from your dinner nights in your fridge, so you can savor the taste of his food after he’s gone home. Enough for the two of you to be as you used to be, as you always have been and always will be. 

Seokjin scoffs, honking at a driver who sped through a red light. “Those aren’t dates, Y/N,” he explains like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “They’re just ways that we spend time with each other.”

“So then what makes this a date? What’s the difference?” You demand. Seokjin’s not making any sense. Sure, you aren’t nearly as well-versed in the dating scene as he is, certainly haven’t been on as many as he has, but from your limited knowledge, you’d always thought that what makes a date is not the setting, not the time or location, but the person you spend it with. 

Arguably, that would mean that all of the nights and days you’ve spent with Seokjin could, by that definition, be dates, but that’s obviously not the case. You’ve always just been friends. 

“It’s a date because I say it is,” Seokjin declares. “You wanna know what makes a date? It’s when the two people—or more, depending on how you swing—decide that it is a date. It’s just a label.”

“If it’s just a label, then why are you making such a big deal out of it?” You ask. You know you’re being a bit annoying with all of the questions at this point, but who’s to say you couldn’t have spent the evening curled up in your apartment and called that a date as well? 

“Because,” Seokjin begins, sighing. His hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles are turning white. “Because,” he repeats, “if someone really wants to impress you, then they will make a big deal out of it. Because you deserve it.”

Eventually, Seokjin pulls into the giant open field designated for parked cars, and expertly squeezes into this tiny space between two absolutely massive SUVs, likely once filled with five children and two very, very tired parents. Sure, you both only have about six inches of space to shimmy out of his car, but it was a good parking job nonetheless. 

“Get you a boyfriend who can park as well as I can,” Seokjin says, patting himself on the back as you head towards the entrance. 

“Why would I need a boyfriend when I have you?” You tease back.

You wait for a cheeky response from Seokjin, turning to look at him when he delivers the blow, but it never arrives. Instead, Seokjin reaches a hand down to grab onto yours, and you walk hand in hand towards the entrance, wordless. He pays, which makes you angry, but he tells you that you can buy a funnel cake for you to share to make up for it, and that’s good enough. 

In movies and books, a fair is a very high-school event for people to attend. Lots of bright flashes of color, loud noises, and junk food, which are three things that society believes deters anyone over the age of nineteen from attending. You can’t name a single piece of pop culture that features two fully-grown adults eating cotton candy and sitting in a ferris wheel carriage. Because the moment you turn twenty, your back starts to permanently ache and noises louder than the sound of your refrigerator making ice give you a headache, of course. 

Seokjin, of course, has never been one to let the media define him. 

He lights up like New Year’s Eve the moment you walk through the gates. Like a child on Christmas day. 

There’s a difference between being immature and being youthful that people often fail to realize, confusing the two, or worse, thinking they’re the same thing. But there are sixteen-year-olds out there who are more mature than middle-aged adults, and there are middle-aged adults who still act like they’re going through puberty. Seokjin was immature when you first met him, the same way all college freshmen are, but over the years lost that mindset while still never parting with the youthful part of himself, the part filled with childlike wonder, with innocence and hopefulness. It has always been part of him. 

When Seokjin looks at the world, he sees it bathed in light, in color. He sees people in their most wonderful form. Sees every day, every moment, as something worth remembering. Sees the future as something worth looking forward to. 

You’ve always envied that about him. Perhaps it’s just in your nature, but you’ve always been jaded, a little cynical. 

A realist and a dreamer. 

And they always say that opposites don’t really attract. 

Here at the fair, Seokjin is more than prepared and willing to have enough fun for the both of you, even as you pull up to one of those impossible-to-win water-squirter games. He’s already pulling out his wallet to hand a couple of bills to the angsty-looking teenager behind the booth. 

“You know that these are totally rigged, right?” You ask, chuckling to yourself as Seokjin rubs his hands together with a wide-eyed excitement. 

“Just because they’re rigged doesn’t mean winning is impossible,” Seojin says confidently, taking a seat and gearing up to begin. You stand to the side, arms crossed, waiting to be sufficiently unimpressed. “What are you doing standing there? I paid for both of us.”

Before you know it, Seokjin is pulling you down into the seat next to him as the teen counts down, giving you a very monotonous three seconds before the bell rings and you have to aim weakly-pressurized water into the mouth of a faded plastic clown. 

You’ve never had the best hand-eye coordination. On multiple occasions, Seokjin has tossed you a fruit, a bag of rice, something non-dangerous and relatively large, and on multiple occasions, you fumble to grab it and it eventually ends up on your kitchen floor. It takes you about half of the minute you’re given to blow up the balloon to get your aim straight, and by then, Seokjin’s balloon could eat yours for lunch. 

“Pick up the pace, Y/N!” Seokjin teases, relishing in his lead. This is embarrassing, and you’re better than this. And yet.

“It’s working against me and you know it!” You defend yourself. Because their unfairness is the reason Seokjin’s about to win and you’re about to lose. 

“How can you say that when I’m doing so well?” Seokjin laughs, and his balloon pops the moment that the sixty-second countdown ends, an underwhelming blare of celebratory music playing through the speakers at the corners of the tent. 

A sad little “Better luck next time!” echoes from the clown in front of you, and you slam your water gun on the table as Seokjin gloats in your face, the teenager coming over to hand Seokjin his prize, looking dead on his feet. 

“What should I get, hmm?” Seokjin asks. 

The selection is pretty weak. A lot of Frozen merchandise, two-dollar stuffed Olafs and capes with Anna and Elsa’s faces on the back. A couple of nondescript stuffed animals, from glittery lizards to pastel teddy bears. What looks like a generic-brand Whoopee cushion. 

“You don’t want a stuffed Olaf?” You ask innocently. The design is a little off, so it looks like Olaf is staring into your soul, Mona Lisa-style. 

“Hmm,” Seokjin says, pretending to think about it. The poor kid looks like he’s about to faint from boredom, desperate for two fully-grown adults to stop acting like they don’t know what prize to pick from an amusement park booth. “How about the pink teddy bear?”

Very on-brand for him. The teen hands it to Seokjin and the two of you go on your merry way, Seokjin demanding the two of you go to stuff your faces with funnel cake before rounding out the night on the ferris wheel. 

“For you,” Seokjin says, holding the teddy bear out to you as the two of you stand in the surprisingly-long line for funnel cake. 

“Me?” You ask, eyebrows raised in disbelief as your fingers curl around the fluffy fabric. It’s softer than you thought it would be. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin says, certain. “To remind you of me.”

You grin, holding the bear close to you. Sure, it’s a little bit kindergarten, like the cute boy on the playground placing a quick kiss on your lips before the teacher calls everybody in after recess ends, but the gesture is more than enough. To know that Seokjin won something, even something as plain and inexpensive as a prize from a fair, and his first and only thought was to give it to you, well, that makes you happy. “I don’t need a bear to be reminded of you,” you muse. Not when there are pieces of your friendship lingering everywhere you walk, from your apartment to your old university to your mind. 

“Can’t hurt to know you’re always thinking about me,” Seokjin says, and it’s not greasy or smug or weird. It’s honest.

You laugh. “When am I not?”

Funnel cake starts with a black t-shirt and the two of you arguing over who’s going to foot the ten dollar bill, much to your dismay. Even though Seokjin had explicitly said that you could pay, since he covered your entrance ticket, he still makes a big deal about doing it himself in front of the poor funnel cake girl, who definitely doesn’t get paid nearly enough to watch two grown adults fight over a ten dollar funnel cake. Eventually, you get your way and successfully hand the girl a ten dollar bill and she hands you a paper plate piled high with funnel cake as you begin to search for an open place to sit. 

“Just because I said that you could pay for the funnel cake doesn’t mean I actually meant it,” Seokjin says with a frown as you scope out a place to sit. At evening’s peak, it’s nearly impossible, which leads the both of you to a curb next to a recycling bin piled high with plastic cups, stained with Coca Cola and Fanta, knees up to your chin as you crouch over a single plate of funnel cake.

“Isn’t this cozy,” Seokjin says with a grin as a burly middle-aged dad steps on Seokjin’s clean white sneakers to throw something away. 

“We’ve been in more cramped quarters before,” you say. One of the many instances that immediately comes to mind is when the two of you were trapped in a closet in a frat house for nearly two hours because two people on the other side were having sex, the entire time. It was a good bonding experience. The two of you got very acquainted with each other’s scents. 

Seokjin’s hasn’t changed. Still sweet, sugary and vanilla from all of the baking he does, and a little bit like raindrops.

You wonder if Seokjin thinks the same about yours. 

“You know I don’t mind where we are and what we’re doing when I’m with you,” Seokjin says, and it sounds like a line straight out of a Hallmark movie, cheesy and cliche and rehearsed. But it’s none of those things. Seokjin says it and it’s real. And it’s the sort of thing that makes you wonder if you’re ever as true with him as he is with you. 

“Even when we’re sitting on the ground and eating funnel cake next to a recycling bin in a fair filled with messy children and their deadbeat parents?” You ask. 

Seokjin nods, taking an enormous bite of funnel cake. “Yes, even then.”

“True love,” you muse. Very few people would you do this for. Seokjin is one of them. 

Seokjin coughs at the words, his whole body shaking, and the powdered sugar from the piece in his hands goes flying, like a tiny little blizzard, falling onto his skin, his shirt, his lips, and everywhere in between. Snowflakes. 

Funnel cake ends with Seokjin trying to wipe the white dust on the front of his pitch black t-shirt away with a napkin, and only smearing it further into the fabric, cotton turning sticky from the sugar. It looks like a cocaine bust gone wrong. It looks only slightly not-kid-friendly. 

“Am I addicted to cocaine or did I just spill powdered sugar on myself?” Seokjin jokes, much to the horror of a family passing by, the mom giving you and Seokjin an alarmed expression as she picks up the pace. “It was powdered sugar!” Seokjin calls after them, making the two of you laugh. “Or it was cocaine. Whatever you want to believe.”

“You’re too soft to do cocaine,” you tell Seokjin, a very strange sort of compliment. 

“Maybe powdered sugar, though,” Seokjin says with a laugh as you heave yourselves off of the curb, tossing out the paper plate and dusting off your hands, flakes of powdered sugar falling to the ground. “Ferris wheel?”

“Anything you want,” you tell him, letting him lead you towards the ride, lit up like a Christmas tree. 

It’s as if every possible holiday threw up on the damn thing, a jumble of rainbow flights flashing erratically as a generic carnival tune plays in the background, sluggishly moving on its axis. It couldn’t have been built before this century. 

You squeeze into the carriage, clearly built to fit a child and their father at most, let alone two adults who both don’t have a regular exercise schedule. In order to fit, you have to stretch a leg over Seokjin’s lap and lean so that part of your shoulder is against his chest. It’s… cozy. It’s most definitely not the most cramped either of you have ever felt. 

“This is the part where I pretend to yawn and then stretch my arm over you,” Seokjin says matter-of-factly, as if that particular action is a mandatory part of the date.

“Oh, is that proper first-date etiquette?” You tease. 

“Only for me,” Seokjin says, cheeky, and it’s the greasiest thing you’ve ever had the misfortune of hearing. Even so, you let him fake yawn, melodramatic and totally contrived, feel as his arm comes to rest on your shoulder, hand swinging down over your side. Instinctively, you reach up to grab it with your arm, letting the two of you sit like this as the ferris wheel creaks, slowly moving you upwards. “Aren’t you having the best first date ever?”

“It’s the only one I can remember,” you admit, especially since it’s still in progress. 

“That means it’s the best.” Seokjin grins. 

“And the worst,” you add on, making Seokjin laugh. 

Finally, finally, finally, you reach the top, overlooking the entire fair, lit up in the night in a warm pink and yellow haze. At this hour, only the teenagers are left, families having gone home for the night, and you can hear the cheers even from up here, hear the laughter and jokes and chatter. it’s a sort of ambience you’ve never had the pleasure of listening to before. One of an active night, filled with people, and you, far away enough to be out of the action but close enough to enjoy it nonetheless. 

“Isn’t this nice, Y/N?” Seokjin asks, the two of you looking out into the distance, wishing you could stay like this forever. “When we’re up here, it feels like I can forget about everything and just think about now.” If only you could stay like this forever.

“And what are you thinking about, right now?” You ask, head resting on his shoulders. 

Instinctively, his arm moves from your shoulder to your waist, tugging you into his side, letting you rest your legs on top of his own. Seokjin’s never needed to be more honest than he already is. He says what he means, and he means what he says.

It’s always been so easy when it comes to him. 

He lets out a breath, and you can feel his chest rising beneath your hand on his torso, feel the subtle beat of his heart beneath your fingers. 

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

He rests his head atop yours. “You,” he says.

Seokjin, a man of his word, holds up his end of the deal like he does everything else: honestly and fully. Little has really changed about your relationship dynamic—he still sends you good morning texts and reminds you that you need to drink your eight glasses of water (which you never do, and he consistently does because he’s an organized man with perfect skin). Still randomly comes to your apartment with two brown bags filled with groceries to last you the next two weeks. Still makes time for you.

But now, it’s all being done under the guise of courtship. Of what it’s like to have someone romantically interested in you. 

Of course, Seokjin’s not actually romantically interested in you, but he does a damn good job of pretending to be. For the sake of this whole thing. Seokjin still has one objective in mind: get you to believe in love again, and that all of these things he’s been doing, from taking you to the fair to dancing with you at Cynthia’s wedding, are means to accomplish an end. 

(The stuff in between, the texts, the calls, the visits, those are just part of your routine.)

It feels completely normal and totally unnatural, all at once. Like a new kind of relationship neither of you have really ever delved in before, toeing the line between friendship and this other feeling, one without a name. Seokjin will do something that you and he have always done, long before any of this was in motion, like ordering Indian takeout to your place unprompted, and then he will say that that’s what people are supposed to do when they’re courting someone. As if he is the end-all be-all of chivalry. 

Truth be told, you can’t wait for this to end, for things to go back to the way they were. You never did set an official fake breakup date (if that’s what it’s even called), but you suppose that that means that you can just call it off whenever you’d like. You don’t feel as though anything he’s doing is working. He treats you just the same. What is there to fall in love with, other than familiarity?

But Seokjin’s diligence makes you diligent, too, which is why you’re standing in your kitchen, outnumbered by vegetables (ten to one, which means they could definitely kill you if given the chance—and opposable thumbs), a gigantic pot on your creaky gas stove, boiling soup swirling inside. Even though your kitchen is nowhere near the level of organized and systematic as the Chopped set, it certainly smells like it. Your cooking can hardly compare to Seokjin’s (you roughly chopped vegetables and put them in broth, he makes kimbap for fun), but, like all other aspects of your life, he rubs off on you, one way or another. 

Seokjin seems to think that this transference of his personality will apply to how he feels about love, too. But time can only work so much magic, and ever since freshman year of college, for the seven years you’ve known him, it’s always been like this. 

You let the soup simmer on your stove as you begin to pack up the food scattered on your counter, unsure when next you’re going to use it, especially since your daily meals usually consist of leftovers and, if you’re feeling exotic, stir-fry. It’s then that you hear the knock on your door, and you don’t even need to think before you’re scurrying over to pull it open, revealing Seokjin leaning over to peek happily into your peephole.  

“Look who it is, for a change,” you say sarcastically.

“You mean your favorite human being in the entire world who is about to take you to see his mom and enjoy a nice home-cooked mom meal?” Seokjin corrects obnoxiously, making you laugh as you let him inside. 

“You blackmailed me into this,” you remind him, pointing an accusing metal soup ladle his way. “You convinced me that you’re doing me a favor by treating me like someone you’d want to court, and tricked me into making an enormous pot of soup for your mother!” A lose-lose situation. 

“I am doing you a favor,” Seokjin defends. “Don’t you love having a doting, attractive young professional taking you out to fairs and ordering you take-out? This is what the beginning of a relationship is supposed to look like.” Emphasis on supposed to. “Also, I accompanied you to Cynthia’s wedding after she had been talking your ear off trying to get you to bring a plus-one, so…”

A dirty, dirty play. 

“Fine, you win,” you concede. You did really appreciate him coming, especially so last minute. “I better hear nothing but pure, unadulterated praise coming from your lips when you eat my soup, or else.”

“I would have showered compliments on your soup even if you hadn’t sent me a thinly-veiled threat,” Seokjin says proudly. “What kind of a best friend would I be if I didn’t?”

Perhaps one that confused you a little less. 

You spend the entire car ride to Seokjin’s mom’s house (who lives forty-minutes out of the city) listening to him ramble on about how desperately his mother wants him to get married, settle down and have kids or a dog or two. The two of you still have half of your twenties to go, but the moment he graduated, Seokjin got a steady job and a nice apartment in the city, which immediately equates to marriage material. 

At least, that’s what his mom thinks. 

But those aren’t the sort of things that make Seokjin marriage material. You’ve known him for years. Ever since he first spoke to you, it was immediately obvious he was always the sort of perfect, dreamboat husband material that teenage girls fawn over, that characters in anime fantasize about. 

At the most basic level, Seokjin is goddamn attractive, and even if you’ve seen him in nothing but tighty-whities as a nervous eighteen-year-old, seen him with tomato sauce in his hair, seen him sick with a cold and strep throat, you can’t deny him that. He’d got the sort of looks that make people on the street take photos of him, thinking he’s a celebrity. 

But not only is Seokjin undoubtedly gorgeous, he’s an entire package. He’s an excellent cook, capable of impressing any and all parents, hilarious, charming and charismatic. Professional but never dull. He does his part in group projects, studies for his exams, listens to the music recommendations you give him even if they aren’t his style. The girls he dated in college knew exactly what they were doing when they went out with him. They were attempting to secure their future. It’s a shame none of them stuck, not like you, Elmer’s glue on his skin. 

Seokjin’s mom, the lovely woman she is, is under the impression that Seokjin became husband material when he graduated, got a job and moved to the city. But you know better than anyone—Seokjin’s always been husband material. Now, he’s just old enough that he knows he could be looking for himself. 

When you pull into Seokjin’s mom’s driveway, a little suburban home with a freshly-mowed font lawn and flowers by the mailbox, she’s already opening the front door and scurrying out, still wearing her slippers. 

“Eomma!” Seokjin says happily, getting out of the driver’s seat as she bounds towards him, the two of them wearing the same smiles on their faces. Like mother, like son. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long!” She chides, smacking him slightly. “You have to come and visit me more often. I don’t live that far away from you.”

“I’m busy, Ma,” Seokjin says with a roll of his eyes. “I have a job.”

“A job and no wife!” She exclaims, though her attitude immediately changes the moment you exit the car, pot of soup still warm in your hands. “Y/N!” 

She rushes over to give you a hug as well, albeit a much more careful one. She looks positively thrilled to see you. Seokjin’s mom has always liked you, even when you were an insufferable eighteen-year-old. They would invite you over for their Chuseok celebrations every year, and sometimes to their New Year’s Eve parties, if you were in the area over winter break. 

“No wife yet, Eomma,” Seokjin says. 

“You look so pretty, Y/N,” Seokjin’s mother tells you. She takes the pot from your hands wordlessly, refusing to listen to your protests as she shoos you both inside. 

The house smells of a home-cooked meal, savory and salty and sweet all at once, and you can see several dishes already laid out on the table. It’s both a familiar sight and scent, something you all too frequently experience whenever you barge into Seokjin’s apartment around mealtime. Seokjin immediately joins his mother in the kitchen, scrambling around to help her finish cooking, as you wait awkwardly by the table, easily the most inexperienced of the three of you. 

“Is this your soup?” His mother asks. 

“Yes, I thought to make some to bring tonight,” you say with a smile. Seokjin’s mother beams. 

“Delicious! Seokjinie always tells me how much he loves having it when he’s sick. You take care of him very well,” his mother grins. She places it on the stove, turning on the heat to warm it up. 

“Only because he does the same for me,” you say, sending a grin Seokjin’s way, one he returns instantly. 

The rest of the meal preparation (which doesn’t take long, especially with an extra pair of equally-gifted hands) goes by like this, Seokjin’s mother heaping compliments onto you as you stand there, helpless, watching as the two add the final dishes to the dining table. Seokjin dodges every question about his lack of engagement, always deflecting and shifting the topic to something you’ve done. Maybe this is why he wanted you around…

Finally, when dinner is ready, the three of you sit down, eager to pick up your chopsticks and dive in. 

“Seokjin’s father is away on business,” his mother explains after you note the empty place setting. “He sends his love!”

“I knew I was missing the dad jokes,” Seokjin says with a shake of his head. “Luckily, I can make up for them with my own.”

Seokjin’s mother laughs. “You must get a lot of this, don’t you?” She shoves an extra serving of fish onto your plate, letting it plop on top of the kimchi she had previously spooned onto the dish. “Eat, eat. I made it for you.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say with a smile. You’ll probably walk out of this house with a food baby the size of Jupiter. You always do. “And yes, but it’s nice. I like spending time with him.”

“Oh, thank God,” Seokjin says dramatically, a hand to his chest. “I was worried about that, for a second.”

“You two have always been inseparable,” his mother comments. “Don’t tell me this is why you haven’t married yet, Seokjin-ah.”

“What do you mean, Ma?” He asks over a mouthful of naengmyeon. “You know that I’m waiting to get married.”

Seokjin’s mother scoffs, shocked. “What? But Y/N’s right here! You two make an excellent couple.”

“Eomma!” Seokjin admonishes, even a little taken aback himself. You had no idea this was the secret plan his mother’s been plotting, all this time. It seems both you and him were just operating under the assumption that she was doing what all mothers do when their children are adults—dreaming out loud for grandchildren. 

“I’m sorry, did I misread something? You two are a couple, aren’t you?” His mother asks, positively bewildered. No wonder she’s been grilling Seokjin so hard about getting married. She had thought he was halfway there, already. 

You open your mouth to correct her, but your mind gets the best of you. Isn’t this what Seokjin wants? For people to think you’re a couple? For the true dating experience—are they, aren’t they? 

“No, Eomma,” Seokjin says, interrupting your thoughts. You turn to him, brows furrowed in confusion. “We’re just friends.”

Nobody mentions marriage, dating, or love for the rest of the meal. 

You excuse yourself to the bathroom once everyone is finished, Seokjin’s mother shooing you away from the kitchen sink, refusing to let you partake in any sort of clean up as the honorary guest. You’re glad to get away, the tension palpable and thick, looming over your heads, a reminder to all three of you that friends is all you have been, and friends is all you will ever be. Strangely enough, Seokjin had seemed the most disappointed out of all of you, even more so than his mother, whose dreams of grandchildren were crushed before her eyes. 

You wonder why. 

If Seokjin had been so adamant about the two of you calling yourselves a couple at the wedding, then why did he backtrack here? Was it his mother? Was it you? What could have made him change his mind?

As you walk back to the kitchen, you can hear the two of them having a conversation, hushed voices so as not to alert you. You take a step back from the entryway, hiding behind the wall to eavesdrop. 

“You must see the way she looks at you, Seokjin-ah,” his mother says. 

“No, Ma, that doesn’t mean anything,” Seokjin says, voice cold. 

“Yes it does, my boy,” she says. “Can’t you see it? The way she cares for you.”

“That’s just how it’s always been.”

“Seokjin-ah, please. You’re being stubborn.”

“Eomma, believe me, I know better than anyone else that we’re only ever going to be friends.”

“You don’t see it, then?” His mother’s voice is sad, helpless. “The way she loves you.”

You hear Seokjin suck in a breath, a deep, heavy inhale, weighed down by his thoughts. At that moment, you decide to round the corner, pretending like you haven’t hear a thing. 

“Y/N!” Seokjin’s mother exclaims happily. “Your soup was delicious. You’ll have to come over more often so I can keep having it.”

“I’ll have Seokjin send home a thermos with it,” you joke, lightening the tension you can still feel lingering in the air. 

“Ah, you’re too kind!” She says, sending you a warm smile. Seokjin hasn’t turned around from where he’s facing the sink, yellow rubber gloves up to his elbows as he scrubs the dishes clean. “Seokjin-ah, you must remember to bring Y/N more often. I love seeing her.”

“Yes, Eomma,” Seokjin says dutifully. When he finishes, he packs up the leftovers his mother is sending him home with, placing tupperware after tupperware into a plain brown bag. “Y/N, ready to go?”

“Yes, it’s getting late,” you say, the words stiff on your tongue. Seokjin seems closed off, bottled up. There’s something he’s not saying, and you can feel it weighing on his tongue. “it was lovely to see you again.”

“Of course!” Seokjin’s mother grins. “You must visit me again soon. I’ll be waiting!”

“Bye, Eomma,” Seokjin says as you head to the front door, pulling on your shoes as he opens the door. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Remember what I said, alright, Seokjin-ah?” His mother says, pulling him in for a hug. “You mustn't ignore what’s right in front of you.” You can’t help but wonder if maybe, you had overheard something you weren’t supposed to. 

In the car, you ask, “What was your mom talking about? When we were saying goodbye?”

Seokjin shrugs, nonchalant and calm. It’s so plain that it’s uncharacteristic of him. “Oh, nothing.” You hate not knowing what really lingers in his thoughts, rests deep in the pit of his heart. You want nothing more than to reach over and promise him that, no matter what, you’ll always be by his side. “She just wants me to look out for myself.”

Even on this clear night, the moon and stars visible above your heads, your mind (and heart) couldn’t be foggier. 

In your freshman year of college, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 had just been released on DVD, digital, and Blu-ray. Seokjin, the eighteen-year-old genius he was, had brought a projector to school that year, and so, one chilly November weekend, you and him set up in an empty lounge with a perfectly white wall and watched (spoiler alert) Voldemort get Avada Kedavra-ed at one in the morning. 

Ever since, monthly movie nights have been ingrained into your routine, even when Seokjin was in London for a semester in your junior year and you used a shady website so you could stream Netflix movies together. You think, that semester, you watched every Certified Rotten movie on Netflix possible, relishing in being able to joke about how terrible the films you were watching with your best friend. You almost thought you would break your tradition, just because of how difficult it was to organize. 

But still, you persisted. 

Of course, now, in the age of platform subscriptions and renting on YouTube, it’s a lot easier. Seokjin has a subscription to every movie-streaming platform under the sun, which means that by default, so do you. One of the many perks of having Seokjin as your best friend. 

As two mostly-functioning adults in the real world, this is how your movie nights typically go: you will alternate apartments as the designated living room of the weekend, the host is in charge of arranging a pre-show dinner, and the guest is in charge of bringing a bottle of wine as a gift. You eat dinner, drink wine, and watch a movie together, either on the couch, or, in emergencies, in bed. The host always chooses. Three years out of college and running, neither of you have been able to come up with a system more foolproof than this. 

Tonight, it is Seokjin’s turn to host, which you always prefer because he cooks dinner on his own instead of giving up and ordering takeout like you always do, and because his couch and bed are much more comfortable than your own. Not that you frequent his bed. Because you don’t. You just know that from your limited experience, it’s much more comfortable than your own bed. It’s probably his mattress. 

When you arrive at his apartment, his door is already cracked open, resting on the door frame as you can hear him whistling a tune you don’t recognize. Almost like he’s been expecting you, or something. 

“If you leave your door open like this, you’re gonna get robbed,” you announce, forgoing a hello as you barge inside, the apartment smelling of smokiness. “Whoa, what the hell are you cooking? Lava?”

“I accidentally set off the fire alarm,” Seokjin explains, back turned towards you as he bends down to pull something out of the oven. “That’s why the door’s open.”

“Oh, not because you were expecting a guest?” You tease, placing the bottle of wine on the counter as you join him in the kitchen. 

Seokjin turns around to reveal a baking dish with four chicken legs, drenched in a sauce that smells of spice and flavor, charred on the skin. Gourmet restaurants couldn’t even compare. 

“No,” he jokes. “I was gonna eat all of this food and drink this wine by myself.”

“Hey, that is my wine!” You shout, making grabby hands towards the neck of the bottle. Seokjin raises a single eyebrow, unimpressed, as he dishes up the food, two chicken legs a piece on some luxurious paper plates. “Fine, I guess we can share.”

“You know you can’t resist me,” Seokjin tells you, and you hate it, because it’s true. 

 As you finish up, washing the pots and pans as Seokjin puts away the various bottles of seasoning on his counter, some of which you can’t even name, he asks, “Couch or bed?”

You turn, scandalized, swatting him with a fork lathered with soap, “So forward!”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Ugh, you know what I mean. You know I don’t mind where we watch our movie.”

(So long as he’s with you.)

You give the two options not another second worth of thought. You’re in the mood to lounge around on Seokjin’s terribly comfortable mattress tonight. You’ve had a rough past week at work, and sometimes, if you complain enough, Seokjin will massage your shoulders as you watch the movie. 

“Hmm… bed, please!” You say like a child, wrapping up the dishwashing as Seokjin grabs his laptop from the coffee table by the couch. You skip into his bedroom, giddy and only the tiniest bit wine-drunk, Seokjin following like the heavyweight best friend he is. 

Seokjin’s bedroom space has always felt so familiar to you. Plants along the windowsill, shelves with photos of his family, an enormous full-length mirror for gratuitous outfit-of-the-day pictures. Even in college, it felt this warm, this cozy. When you knocked on the wooden door of his dormitory at midnight to go out and get McDonald’s, coming back and gorging out on your McNuggets, it felt like this. 

People always say that your bedroom should be your little sanctuary, a home within a house. But instead of your own bedroom giving you that comfort, it’s Seokjin’s. Here, more so than anywhere else, you feel safe. Warm. Loved. There’s something magical to it. 

“What are we watching?” You ask happily, jumping onto his bed and grabbing the nearest plushie to hold onto. Seokjin plugs his laptop charger into the nearest outlet and sets it up on a couple of pillows for optimal viewing pleasure, the two of you leaning against a mountain of pillows as he pulls up Netflix. 

“To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, have you heard of it?” Seokjin asks, clicking play on the movie. 

You furrow your brows as you curl into him, letting your head rest on his chest. “Really? I thought you were gonna pick something cool, like Interstellar, or something. Not something my fifteen-year-old cousin loves.”

“First of all, your fifteen-year-old cousin has great taste,” Seokjin tells you, offended. “Secondly, just because this is a teenage romantic comedy doesn’t mean it’s any less cool than Matthew McConaughey in a spacesuit, okay?”

You’re still skeptical. The New York Times gave To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before a pretty decent review, but you have long outgrown your teenage coming-of-age romantic-comedy movie phase, even if you still quote Clueless regularly. As you’ve gotten older, your movie nights have transitioned away from young adult books turned into movies and more towards films that people like Lupita Nyong’o star in, movies with sad endings on purpose. So this is very out of character, especially for a movie junkie like Seokjin, who sends you weekly movie reviews of the latest indie divorce drama.

You snuggle in closer, accepting defeat. It is Seokjin’s turn to choose, after all. And you suppose, that after a long week of unforgiving work, you could use this time to unwind, mindlessly watch a movie geared towards high-schoolers instead of analyzing some unknown French historical drama. “Alright then,” you tell him. “I trust you.”

Famous last words. 

You always have a habit of putting your trust into your best friend at the absolute worst times. Example One: In junior year, when he swore that the new salad place on campus was delicious until you got food poisoning from their chicken. Example Two: The summer after you graduated, when he promised you that roller skating was “easy” and “fun”. Example Three: Two months ago, when he blackmailed you into letting him take you out on dates after promising to go with you to Cynthia’s wedding. 

Example Four: Right now, as you’re snuggled up together like two birds of a feather, watching two sixteen-year-olds agree to fake date for personal gain. And even though they’re high schoolers, and even though he’s going through with it to get back at an ex-girlfriend and she’s trying to recover from her disastrously-mailed love letters, it feels too similar to be something that Seokjin just happened to stumble upon. 

You turn to look up at Seokjin, the movie a distant hum in the background, hardly at the forefront of your mind, but he doesn’t spare you a second glance. Instead, he pulls you in closer, wrapping an arm around your torso as his fingers dance across your own, mindless. He doesn’t have a damn thing to say, a rarity in your relationship, letting the movie do the talking. 

I think it’s funny, the boy says as the two main characters sit in this absolutely ancient diner, you say that you’re scared of commitment and relationships, but you don’t seem to be afraid to be with me. 

Well, there’s no reason to be, the girl responds casually. Unbothered. 

Why’s that? He asks. 

She shrugs, nonchalant. Because we’re just pretending. 

You feel Seokjin’s grip tighten, feel his skin pressing against your own, the exposed part of your stomach where your shirt has ridden up. It’s almost like he’s afraid to lose you. The mere sensation, one you have felt hundreds, if not thousands of times before, sends shivers down your spine. 

“You cold?” He asks softly, pulling up the blanket that’s crumpled up by your feet, placing it gently over your bodies. 

You couldn’t care less about the movie playing in front of you. Not when Seokjin’s this close, not when he’s got his arms wrapped around you, not as you feel his soft breaths against your forehead, as he tucks you underneath a blanket. You’re frozen still next to him. You think that even your heart has stopped. 

Dozens of movie nights, but never one like this. Dozens of cuddle sessions, dozens of nights in. But this one feels brand new. 

Seokjin adjusts himself, turning in towards you. You can’t even feel yourself breathing. 

When did this start happening? You ask yourself. Why do your palms feel clammy? Why does his touch leave little embers along your skin? 

Traitorously, your mind responds, a question to a question. 

Hasn’t it always been like this?

Tuesdays have always been your least favorite day, because they’re Monday’s shitty cousin. They’re far enough into the week to have you not complain about it being the beginning of the week, but they’re too soon into the week to warrant any excitement about it ending. At least, when you wake up to go to work on a Monday, you know it’s a Monday. When you wake up to go to work on a Tuesday, you think it’s a Wednesday. Tuesday is the day of the week that wears a mask and tries to make you think it’s something else. 

After the printer jamming, salad dressing getting spilled on your pants, and your coworker losing his cool in the break room and breaking a cabinet door off of its hinges, you think that, when you get called into your boss’s office in the middle of the afternoon, there could be nothing worse for him to tell you. 

Instead, you walk out of his office with a brand new job title and a salary increase to match, positively ecstatic as you bounce all the way to your desk, whipping out your phone to text, well, who else?

[June 16, 2:43PM]

You: I GOT IT!!!

Seokjin: OMG SERIOUSLY?? Seokjin: CONGRATS YOU DESERVE IT !!!!

You: thank u jinie 8) now i can buy us more expensive wine for our movie nights

Seokjin: :D Seokjin: I’m so proud of you, you’re amazing!

And it’s the sort of text exchange that makes your heart soar, even more so than the promotion itself, because there is truly nothing more fulfilling than sharing your accomplishments with the people closest to you. 

You pack up later than usual that day, sitting at your desk for a little bit longer as you wrap up some emails and reorganize the space, determined to make it suitable for someone who just got a kick-ass raise. You’re leaning underneath your desk to gather your belongings, plopping your phone charger and a couple of nice blue pens into your bag, when you feel a sudden tap on your shoulder, scaring the absolute bejeezus out of you.

“Ow!” You shout as you bang the back of your head on the underside of your desk. Angry and in pain, you turn to face the asshole that’s just given you a bump on your scalp for the next week, only to find your expression lightening the moment you lay eyes on Seokjin, fresh from work with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Shocked and pleasantly surprised, you say, “Oh.”

“Don’t sound so excited to see me,” Seokjin jokes, rolling his eyes as he reaches a hand out to help you up. “You alright? I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

Rubbing the nape of your neck, you shake your head. “No, no, I’m alright. You just caught me by surprise. What’s all this?” You ask as Seokjin reaches his hand towards you, the flowery scent permeating the air around you. The bouquet in his hand is a collection of various pastel-colored flowers, baby’s breath and lilies, carnations and hydrangeas. 

“A congratulations,” Seokjin says in lieu of any other sort of explanation. “You deserve it.”

“You make it sound like I’m pregnant,” you tell him, grabbing your bag as you double-check your desk, making sure you haven’t left anything behind. 

“Oh my God, are you?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide. 

You laugh, shaking your head as you accept the flowers graciously, immediately holding them up to your nose. “No, I’m not, Seokjin. You’d be the first to know. But this is so sweet of you, you didn’t have to come to my work like this.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to pick you up for dinner?” 

Stopping in your tracks, you knit your brows together in confusion. “Dinner?”

“The reservation is at 5:45 so we’re already cutting it close,” Seokjin informs you, offering no explanation. “Come on. I had to pull a few strings to get this, so over my dead body will we arrive late.”

Seokjin reaches down to take your hand in his own, giving you no time to ask any more questions as he tugs you out of your office and into his little white Volkswagen, the scent of the flowers filling the air in between the two of you. 

When Seokjin somehow manages to get a parking spot a block away from the restaurant in question, your mouth practically drops open. 

It’s a cozy Lebanese place, complete with more plants you could ever dream of owning, and an outdoor patio decorated with warm fairy lights, lanterns hanging from strings above your head. It’s been ranked one of the best restaurants in the city for years now, and it is practically impossible to get a table (that is, unless you book a year in advance). 

“Seriously?” You ask, in awe, as Seokjin leads you towards the restaurant, the flowers resting safely on the passenger seat. 

“Of course,” Seokjin says like it’s nothing. “You deserve it.”

You aren’t a moment too late, the hostess happily seating the both of you at a corner table on the outside patio, the evening breeze sending flutters through your napkins as she hands you your menus and the wine list. 

“How did you swing this?” You ask, blown away as Seokjin grins. 

“Well, you know my friend, Yoongi?” He asks. You remember him, having met him a couple of times at Seokjin’s few-and-far-between house gatherings. He’s a dainty man with colorful hair who’s got the biggest alcohol tolerance you’ve ever seen. “He’s a food critic, so I had him do me a favor…”

“You didn’t have to do all of that for me,” you say. Seokjin probably owes Yoongi his first-born child, now. 

“But I wanted to,” Seokjin says firmly. “What kind of a best friend would I be if I didn’t celebrate something like this with you?”

Seokjin must know, after all of these years, that you aren’t one to make a big deal out of things. That you vastly prefer staying inside, curled up with a good book or an even better best friend, over going out and getting wasted, over eating at a too-expensive restaurant with portions the size of your fingernail, because that’s who you are. And still, he insists, because that’s who he is. Someone who thinks that everybody deserves a little celebration in their lives, a little love from the people closest to them. 

“You’d be my best friend no matter what,” you tell him, because it’s true. Because Seokjin has always been and will always be that person: the one you’ll never second-guess. “Even if you had gone home after work and passed out on your couch, you’d still be my most favorite person.”

Seokjin grins. “I’m your favorite person?”

“Well, other than Yoongi,” you tease. “After all, he did get us this reservation.”

“Can’t believe that I’m second best to a friend you’ve met like, twice,” Seokjin says, mock-offended. “How am I supposed to compete with that?”

“You’ll find a way,” you muse. He always does. It’s incredible—ever since you met Seokjin, you don’t think anyone’s ever quite stacked up to him. Nobody has ever compared. 

“I’m really proud of you, Y/N,” Seokjin says, the two of you clinking your wine glasses together to celebrate your promotion, celebrate the night, celebrate being together. “You deserved that position more than anybody else.”

“You don’t even know half of my coworkers,” you joke. 

“But I know you,” Seokjin reminds you. “And I know that you’re the most hardworking, determined, focused person I’ve ever met. When you want something, you get it.”

“What?” You ask, a hand reaching out over the table to caress his own, thumb rubbing against the back of his hand. “You’re like that, too. You’re honest and real and certain.” They’re traits you’ve always admired about him, things that you wish you could be but know that you’ll never compare to him. 

“No,” Seokjin says, with a shake of his head. “I’m really not. I wish, though.”

Seokjin’s the truest person you know. What secret could he be keeping? Why hasn’t he told you? Doesn’t he know that you’d care for him, stay by his side no matter what? Not a damn thing in the world could ever make you leave him. 

Your waiter comes around to take your order, and you and Seokjin order a variety of appetizers that you fully intend on sharing with each other. You’ve never really been able to keep to your own plates. There is something so genuinely wonderful about sharing. Afterwards, Seokjin launches into this hilarious story about some old college friends that he had recently heard back from, ones that you’d met once or twice during university but never cemented a real friendship with, unlike Seokjin. 

Quite honestly, you couldn’t care less for them or what they’re doing, but Seokjin is so animated, so vivacious and excited to be telling you about them, that his words are music to your ears. Nothing makes you quite as happy as Seokjin when he smiles, when he laughs, when he’s fucking effervescent. His joy brings you joy, and you suppose that that’s really what it means to care for someone. To love them. When even something as simple as being in their presence makes your heart feel lighter. 

In the evening light, illuminated by the warm flame of the lanterns littering the sky above you, the fairy lights along the fence that encloses the patio, the house lights from the building next door, Seokjin glows. The way his body bounces as he speaks makes it look like a yellow halo surrounds him, his gold jewelry glinting when it catches the light, shimmering. He looks straight out of a movie, straight off of a red carpet, warm brown eyes and an honest smile to match, charismatic and golden and real. 

The craziest part is that he’s always looked like this. Always outshined everybody, no matter his surroundings. Every day, you wonder how on Earth you could have gotten so lucky to have been able to meet him. How blessed you are to be his best friend. How fortunate you are to love him. 

When your meal arrives, the two of you take a break from laughing aloud in this ambient, cozy restaurant, likely bothering all of the people within a twenty-feet radius of your table, and dig in, only emitting the occasional groan of pleasure. It’s no wonder this restaurant has been ranked the best in the city for years on end. Every bite explodes on your tongue, decorates your taste buds. You won’t be surprised if, next time you go over, Seokjin’s recreating every dish you have tonight. He’s always had a knack for it, anyway. 

“You know,” he says over a mouthful of zucchini, “you’re my favorite person, too.”

Normally you’d say something cheesy and dramatic, something along the lines of a sarcastic I’m touched or even a self-deprecating At least I’m number one at something, but instead, you smile softly to yourself. You always knew you and Seokjin were entwined with each other, but it makes your heart flutter to hear him say it for himself. 

“I know,” you murmur. “I’ll never forget that.”

“I don’t know, I just—” Seokjin begins, pausing. It’s not the sort of stop where he’s trying to figure out what words to say. He already knows. He’s just waiting to see if they’re the right ones. “You know, it’s always been you, Y/N. A lot of my life has always been uncertain, but you—you’re the only thing I’m always sure of.”

Afterwards, Seokjin walks you to the door of your apartment, the two of you lingering in the doorway, him refusing to leave and you refusing to say goodbye. 

“Don’t forget these,” Seokjin says, handing you the brown paper bag filled with your leftovers, various to-go boxes filled with treats. 

“What? I thought you wanted them,” you say, eyes wide. “Don’t you want them as reference for a recipe?”

“No, it’s alright,” Seokjin tells you with a shake of his head. “I’ll remember.” 

“Are you sure?” You ask. Seokjin nods, certain. He’s got a steely expression to him, one filled with determination. There’s something he’s not saying, and you’re almost positive it’ll come out tonight. Maybe he knows that you ate that Pop-Tart in junior year. Maybe he’s about to get his revenge. To protect yourself, you smile, telling him, “I had a really nice time tonight, Seokjin. You didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

“I wanted to,” Seokjin repeats. He need offer no other explanation. “Any excuse to spend time with you, I’ll take.”

You laugh. “I suppose that that’s what this whole pretend-dating thing is about, right?” 

Seokjin’s face goes blank.

“What?”

“Well,” you say, shrugging as you reach out to grab his hand. “Dinner tonight, isn’t that the sort of thing you’d do on a date? That’s why you took me out to celebrate instead of just bringing over some wine and takeout. I have to admit, you’re pretty good at this whole dating thing. Must be why you offered, right?”

“Y/N, I—”

“All of those romantic things you said, us playing footsie underneath the table, getting the reservation from Yoongi, I mean. You’ve always loved pulling out all of the stops. You’re giving me such unrealistic expectations for dating, you know?” You chide, grinning as you toy with Seokjin’s fingers amongst your own. Looking up at him, he looks frozen solid, gazing at you with an unreadable expression. “Hey, is everything alright?” Your hand trails up to his shoulder, forcing him to meet your eyes with his own. 

They’re swirling in ink. 

And then, he leans down, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in, and presses his lips against your own. Shocked, you gasp into his mouth, feel the heat of his lips on yours as he kisses you, fervent and desperate, like he’s got something to prove. You feel your heart race, dropping the brown paper bag by your side on your hardwood floor as he presses in closer, insistent. It’s as if your entire body shuts down at his touch, at the feeling of him against you, on you, surrounding you. 

Eventually, your mind comes to, flickering back to life after being entirely short-circuited, and you pull out of his grasp, pushing him away with your palms against his chest, gasping for air. 

“Seokjin, what the—”

“I’ve wanted to do that since I met you,” Seokjin tells you, and no longer does what he say sound like a line straight out of the Dating 101 Handbook. It sounds honest, and what once was something you treasured about him has morphed into fear, into words you dread coming from in between his lips. 

“No, that’s not—”

“What do you mean?” He asks, insistent. He takes a step towards you, and it makes you take a bigger step back. Being far away from him makes you ache, but being close to him is absolutely unbearable. It’s impossible to know which one your heart would prefer. “That’s how I feel. That’s how I’ve always felt.”

“I can’t—I need—” You stumble over your words, backing up into your living room, hand reaching out to the doorknob. You don’t know what you can’t do. You don’t know what you need. All you know is that your heart hasn’t stopped racing the moment his lips met yours, and that you aren’t sure what will happen if Seokjin stands outside your apartment any longer. “I just—”

“I know,” Seokjin says with a nod. His face is beet red and he looks just as breathless, sending your way a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know that you don’t feel the same. But I just—I wanted you to know.”

“I don’t know what I feel,” you whisper to yourself, eyes boring holes into your shoes. “How could I?”

“Y/N,” Seokjin says, reaching a hand out. “I’m sorry—”

“No,” you interrupt. “Don’t apologize. Just—please, just go. Please.”

Seokjin doesn’t protest. Not as you shoo him away, not as you begin to close the door in front of him. 

The door is nearly shut, barely inches away from the door frame, when you hear him call your name. “Y/N,” he says. If you were any more heartless, you’d shut the door, let the last thing you hear from him be your own name. But you aren’t, and not once have you ever closed the door on Seokjin. Not now. Not ever. 

“Yes?” You whisper, terrified of what he might say but too desperate to avoid it altogether. 

You hear him hiccup. You don’t want to see him cry. 

“You’re my best friend.”

(Kim Seokjin prides himself for being a man of few mistakes. He has good time-management skills, triple checks his entire apartment every time he leaves, and only illegally parks in the fire lane when he knows he won’t get a ticket. He’s got great foresight, makes educated decisions, and generally feels as though everything he does will benefit somebody, in the long run. 

You always tell him that you envy how put-together his life is, how picture perfect it seems—stable job, nice apartment, meals prepped and ready to go in his fridge. And even if you aren’t nearly as obsessed with falling in love as he is (and he’s willing to admit that, at least), you tell him that it’s admirable that he has all of this time to go on dates with women he’s met off of Bumble or through a friend of a friend, making an effort to go out into the world and do something with his love life. 

The truth is, Seokjin has been on more dates in the past year than to work events in the evenings and on weekends, but he’s never seen the same person twice. Sometimes, he ends up with a phone number punched into his contacts and a promise to meet again as friends, but most of the time they pat him on the back after it’s over and tell him that they hope he’ll get over his ex soon. 

Seokjin hasn’t had a real ex, a real breakup, since sophomore year of college, when his long-distance girlfriend from high school told him she couldn’t bear to listen to him how much he loves his new best friend any longer. 

It doesn’t take a genius to guess who that best friend is. 

Seokjin’s always been sort of foolish, a little too forward at the best of times and terribly obvious at the worst of times. Always holding out hope that maybe one day you’ll pick up on all of his slip-ups, and he’ll stop acting like a bumbling idiot around you. 

Admittedly, he had gotten pretty fed-up by the time he invited you to dinner to celebrate your promotion. He rolled up to your office in a silk button down and a bouquet of the nicest flowers Hoseok could find, brought you to a restaurant you had been dying to go to ever since you moved to the city, and told you that you were the one constant in his life. And he thought that maybe, just maybe, you would realize. And he wouldn’t have to do everything by himself. 

It’s a wonder that you hadn’t figured it out. 

At least, not until you said goodbye to him, standing underneath the wooden door frame to your apartment, and he leaned down and kissed you. 

Seokjin is a man of few mistakes, but he’s almost positive that that one was the most costly. He had been psyching himself up in his head the entire ride home, telling himself I can do it, I’m gonna tell her, what’s the worst you could do? 

As it turns out, the worst you could do is reject him. 

Seokjin knows you don’t feel the same way. He doesn’t need to go on any dates, doesn’t need to read any more novels or watch any more movies to know that. Maybe you had known all along, you just never knew how to let him down easy. Maybe you were just hoping that if you never acknowledged it, it would go away, age like fine wine, bottled up for an eternity. 

But when he was standing in the flower shop, lingering behind the counter as Hoseok insisted he knew the perfect bouquet to make, there was a little spark in his heart that thought, maybe. Just maybe. 

“Think she’ll like it?” Seokjin had asked hesitantly, fingers curling around one of the petals of the lilies in the bouquet as Hoseok rang him up. 

“What do mean, of course she will!” Hoseok says. He has long been witness to Seokjin’s fruitless efforts to get you to see how he feels. “She’d be a fool not to realize.”

Seokjin’s never been sure if you were the fool, or if he has been, all along. 

“I don’t know, Hoseok,” he had said with a sigh, handing over his credit card. “I feel like telling her might be the wrong move.”

“Why? From what it sounds like, you two are really close,” Hoseok had asked innocently. He even shimmied in a tulip, squeezing it into the middle of the bouquet with nimble fingers. “Are you afraid she’ll say no?”

“I’m afraid I’ll ruin everything,” Seokjin had told him. He’d rather keep you close as a best friend than lose you entirely in the hopes of confessing. That has always been his priority. It always will be. 

Hoseok had laughed, disbelieving. Seokjin had bitterly assumed that he’s never been in love with a best friend. It sucks hard, but Seokjin was in no position to ruin Hoseok’s day by telling him that. “You won’t ruin everything, Jin. You’re a wonderful guy with a great personality. I think it’s worth telling her, you know?” Seokjin did not know. “Like, if you don’t, you’ll never know what could have been.”

And perhaps that was the reason that he leaned down to press his lips against yours. On the off chance, the miniscule possibility that you might feel the same way. His mother had been absolutely insistent that you were in love with him, and while he trusts his mother’s instincts, Seokjin’s known you much longer and much closer than she ever will. And you were never in love with him. Friends is all you have ever known with him. It’s all that the two of you will ever be. 

You’re lucky, Seokjin thinks as he sulks around in his apartment, having decided to give your relationship some space after he completely annihilated it the Tuesday prior. Unrequited love isn’t something he’d wish on his worst enemy. It’s a ray of sunshine surrounded by clouds. It’s the constant reminder that even though what you already have will never be enough, losing it entirely is a fate much worse. 

On the bright side, at least you still tag him in Facebook memes.

Seokjin gets a phone call from an unknown number that Saturday evening, as he cooks a meal for one and pretends that his apartment doesn’t feel bone-crushingly empty without you to fill up the space. He lets the phone ring all the way through the first time—he’s not in the mood to bait those scammy telemarketers tonight, and gets back to cooking. And then his phone rings a second time, same number, and suddenly Seokjin feels as though it might be something urgent. What if it’s a coworker whose number he doesn’t have? Oh God, what if it’s his boss?

“Hello?” Seokjin asks, picking up the call and holding his phone between his ear and his shoulder. 

“Seokjin?”

It’s Cynthia.

“Cynthia?” Seokjin asks, just to make sure he’s not wrong. “How did you get my number?”

“I looked you up on the White Pages,” Cynthia tells him. Oh, yes. He forgot that that existed. “I would have asked Y/N, but she would have gotten suspicious.”

“Oh, uh…” Seokjin hesitates, chuckling nervously. “Y/N? Have you, uh, spoken to her recently?”

Cynthia lets out a deep sigh on the other end, what sounds like a billion thoughts weighing her down. “Yeah, she and I had a girls’ night last night. My husband’s away on business.”

“Oh, how are you both doing?” Seokjin asks. He has the decency to pretend that he hasn’t been positively miserable the past few days.

“Wonderful, thanks,” Cynthia said. “Seokjin, did you kiss Y/N?”

“It was a mistake,” Seokjin immediately says. He shouldn’t have done it and now he’s paying the price. He has no idea how long it will take to repair your relationship, or, even worse, if you’ll just go back to the way it was before and pretend it never happened in the first place. “I wanted to tell her that, but I haven’t seen her recently.”

“Don’t,” Cynthia says harshly, making Seokjin jump a bit, wincing as some hot steam hits his bare skin. “Don’t tell her it was a mistake.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin frowns. Isn’t that what you want? It’s blatantly obvious that you don’t really want a relationship at all, let alone with him. Seokjin doesn’t know what he was thinking when he thought he could change your mind. He was just being selfish. The chance to get to date you under the guise of guidance, and he snatched it up at the first opportunity. 

Well, look at him now. 

“She’ll be heartbroken if you tell her that,” Cynthia tells him, and Seokjin nearly pours boiling hot water all over his arm at the words. “You can’t.”

“What do you mean, heartbroken? She doesn’t want to date me. I’m the one in love with her. I’m the one who should be suffering,” Seokjin says into the phone, his heart starting to race. He wills himself to calm down, to act like everything is normal, but he can’t stop thinking about you. About what Cynthia had said. 

“No, you’re wrong,” Cynthia says. “You couldn’t be more wrong even if you tried. You might be in love with her but she loves you back. She does, I swear.”

Seokjin’s brain nearly short-circuits, the power sparking. “What?” He asks, too hopeful for his own good. “She can’t. I’ve loved her for so long, but we’ve always just been friends. That’s what she wanted.”

“She wants you, Seokjin,” Cynthia says firmly, almost as if she’s reaching through the phone to knock some sense into him. “She didn’t realize that she loved you until you kissed her. And then everything fell into place.”

“You’re lying,” Seokjin says, even though he knows that Cynthia isn’t. 

“Want to know why she hasn’t really dated anyone since midway through college?”

Is it the same reason Seokjin hasn’t, either?

“She was waiting for you,” Cynthia tells you. “She just didn’t know it.”

Seokjin’s about to faint. 

He can hear Cynthia smiling through the phone. “She’s always been waiting for you.”)

[June 21st, 1:22PM]

Seokjin: I’m on my way over to your apartment Seokjin: Don’t ask questions

You’ve long learned by now to listen to Seokjin, to never question his methods. And for once, when you receive a suspicious text out of the blue that says Don’t ask questions, you aren’t scared. You’re thrilled. 

The last time you went this long without contacting each other was when you were just starting to become friends in college, during orientation week where you met five hundred people a day and forgot all of them by the next morning. You and Seokjin eventually caught up with each other when you started seeing each other in the halls of your dorm, living onto a few doors down from each other. 

You didn’t want to be the one to initiate contact. Seokjin had kissed you and then instantly looked like he regretted the entire thing. He had been sitting on his feelings long before you knew that yours even existed. He deserved the space. 

You, well. Cynthia, the wise, wedded woman she is, seems to think that communication is key. Perhaps that’s why she’s been so successful in her love life. 

There’s a knock on your door six minutes after you received the text, the fastest he’s ever gotten to your apartment. 

When you open it, you find a familiar sight: Seokjin, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and a nervous grin on his face, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet like a teenager about to ask his crush to the school dance. 

“Long time no see,” you tell him. 

“I missed you,” Seokjin says honestly. “I really, really did.”

“I did, too,” you tell him. It’s impossible to be away from him. You figured that out briefly when he went abroad in junior year, but were brutally reminded this past week what life is like without him to light it up. And it’s dull. Empty. Missing something. 

“These are for you,” Seokjin says. It’s an entire bouquet of tulips, red and yellow and orange and pink. The scent immediately wafts through the air, brightening up your sullen apartment. 

“They’re beautiful, Seokjin,” you tell him, pressing your nose against the petals as you take in the aroma. The flowers are gorgeous, but Seokjin, as always, steals the show. 

“I was going to bring takeout, but then I thought that you might have already eaten lunch,” Seokjin tells you. 

“Then we can do takeout for dinner,” you suggest as an alternative, fishing through your kitchen cabinets for a vase to put out on your countertop, filled with the tulips and carnations and lilies and hydrangeas. The bouquet he had given you on Tuesday is sitting in your bedroom, and you’re giving it all the plant food you can get your hands on, determined to make them last. 

“You want me to stay for dinner?” Seokjin asks, an eyebrow raised. 

It’s high time you were honest, too. 

“I want you to stay forever,” you admit, and it feels as though the dam has broken, like the first droplet has been spilled and the rest is soon to follow. “I can’t tell you how much I hated being away from you like this. Everything in my life revolves around you.”

“I think about you, every day,” Seokjin says as he comes up to you, joining you in the kitchen as you fill an oversized mason jar with water. “Scratch that. Every hour. Every minute, every second. You’re always on my mind.”

“I thought that was just how you were best friends with someone,” you tell him, feeling the warmth of his body as he stands next to you. “I thought that all of the kind gestures, the traditions, the words, that was what being best friends was. And it is. But I never realized that that was what being in love was like, as well.”

“I thought you’d never figure it out,” Seokjin muses, and it sounds so sad but he looks so happy. “I was ready to never tell you. I was too nervous, every time I’m near you I get all sweaty.”

“You were just going to be in love with me forever?” You ask, turning to him. The thought devastates you, the idea that he was willing to never tell you, to love you silently, for the rest of time. He would have never known what could have been, would have never allowed himself that luxury. And he was okay with it.

“I would rather love you on my own than lose you,” Seokjin tells you firmly. “You’re my best friend. That will never change.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Seokjin interrupts. “I had made that decision. I was willing to live with it.”

“That’s what people do, isn’t it?” You ask, reaching out to hold his hand in your own, as you have done so many times before, and will do so many times more. The feeling never gets old. The spark never fades. “When they’re in love.”

“I don’t know how you never noticed,” Seokjin jokes, laughing more at himself than you. “I thought I was being so goddamn obvious. Any time I said or did anything that even slightly alluded to the fact that I was in love with you, I started panicking because I thought you’d figure me out. And you never did.”

“I think I just needed a bit of coaxing,” you tell him, hand reaching up to turn his face towards you, palms resting on your cheek. “I would have loved you, forever. I just needed you to tell me that you’d love me, forever, too.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Seokjin promises with a grin. “I’ll love you forever and a day.”

Seokjin leans down, big palms resting on your waist as he finally, fucking finally, presses his lips against yours. It’s soft and warm and cozy, the heat enveloping you as you hold his cheeks in your hands, let him push closer and closer, refusing to let you go. The feeling sends warmth through your veins, sparks a fire in your body that you wouldn’t will away even if you wanted to. Seokjin kisses you, and you kiss back, and it feels like a promise. With your lips against his, and his against yours, you tell each other, that you were meant to be together, and that you always will be. 

You had always wondered why you were never really interested in dating anyone. Never wanted to find someone new, a relationship filled with love and laughter and joy, never wanted to go out on fancy dates and tiptoe around each other, a nervous confession on the tips of your tongues. But now, as Seokjin giggles into another kiss he presses against your lips, you know: you already had exactly what you were looking for. 

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

#seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #jin fluff #jin angst #bts fluff #bts angst #seokjin scenario #jin scenario #bts scenario #jin fic #bts fic #bts au #seokjin imagine #jin imagine #bts imagine #bts friends to lovers #bts fake dating #bts fake dating au #w: the courtship chronicles #*shouts into void* I AM PHYSICALLY INCAPABLE OF WRITING FICS SHORTER THAN 20K

[blushing-starker]

Anon asked for alpha Peter and omega Tony for a baby announcement. Thank you to the wonderful @vaguekiwi for motivating me and sharing her thoughts on the story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, anon.

"Tony, Tony? Are you up? It's 7:30am already, you have a meeting with Miss Potts in forty minutes. Tony?"

Soft hands curl into already silver hair, scratching at the strands in an attempt to wake him up gently. Butterfly kisses on a cold nape, a ridiculously hot nose nuzzling everywhere. Peter knows scenting the billionaire is basically the only way one can ensure a calm morning.

Not today. And not for the next few months either.

He loves his husband, appreciates the nearly romantic demeanor, he does. But "unless you have a cup of coffee for me, there is no way in hell i am gonna leave this bed. your child has kept me up with nausea the entire night. I wanna hurl my guts out more than that time Rhodes found Dad's liquor cabinet. please, tell me you have coffee."

"..." Tony is severely displeased by the fact he can read Peter like a book even with half his mind shut off because fine, he's right and dammit all.

"I want that weird drink you make. The one with milk, cinnamon and chunks of brownie. And French toast with waffles. No jam, not too much butter, as much sugar as possible. Now, go before I scream at you for having the only dick that could get a hormone fucked forty something omega pregnant. "

The kid scrambles from bed, practically face plants with all the covers tangling long legs and yup, this is the person that the universe designated as his soulmate. Because Tony Stark can never have a partner with a reasonable, normal amount of enthusiasm, stamina and a sense of balance.

That sounds like he's ungrateful, he's not. But it turns out being three months pregnant gives him plenty of perspective to peer at life in a whole new way that does not include caffeine, alcohol or sex.

Would he kill and die for this amazing human being that makes Tony's heart race no matter the day, that inspires him to be a better version of himself? Yes, no questions asked. No hesitation and no regret.

Would he clobber Peter for doing the impossible and technically causing Tony incredible discomfort on a daily basis thanks to what his doctors can only assume is a superhuman baby he already loves and adores more than life itself? Also yes.

Things aren't mutually exclusive in this household.

Pep, bless her, has yet to find out about their future mini Parker so there's been no respite on the whole 'running a multi billion dollar industry ' thing. And yeah, while it's not exactly easy, he can focus on other things and not fall into a panicky state of mind — because him? A father? Of a super baby? Tony Stark, infamous playboy with a hedonistic streak, a dad?

Just thinking along those lines makes shame and self doubt slither over a metallic plate. Working, dealing with innovative scientists, crafting the new world of tomorrow, guaranteeing the safety of their planet, shapeshifting into a role model, a mentor (for the interns and school kids he visits, not Peter, of course, thank God they left that dynamic ages ago), loyal friend, reluctant errand boy (fuck the assholes in charge of the Accords), great husband, good man, it all distracts a fearful child from thinking, what if I turn into Howard?

"I couldn't find brownies, so cookies it is! Aunt May had a few boxes sent in when I told her work was keeping you on your feet all the time. Said it'd be a good idea to snack along the day in case you—" Peter freezes, tenses with a not-so-narrow back held ramrod straight. Oh, his husband brought him breakfast in bed.

How could he ever think to clobber such a nice, wonderful—

"Your scent is odd."

"Yeah, well fuck you too then."

Five seconds of silence.

"I'm bringing you one cup of coffee and the hormone pills."

" Yup, that's a great idea. "

---------------------------

Tony’s mumbo jumbo with self loathing is firmly put on the back burner after inhaling a delicious breakfast and chugging that one glorious cup of coffee. Until they go to the bathroom and he sees himself in the mirror.

"We gotta tell them."

"You said you wanted to wait a while before saying anything."

Peter strips, ducks into the warm shower, lets out a pleased little sigh and Tony wants to rip his fingernails off. Is it bad, having sex while pregnant? No! The doctors, every single one of them, said it's a perfectly normal thing to do. It'd be bad if they didn't have sex because Tony, thanks to his crazy hormone production, needs the extra attention for his body to understand this is a happy process that shouldn't include sad pheromones or stressed out moments. Will Peter put him out of his misery and allow a quickie in the mornings? No.

"Take more than five minutes in that shower and I'm joining you."

Listen, he grew up in the 80's and 90's, Tony wasn't immune to peer pressure. Did he cave and eventually do so many squat competitions with Rhodey his butt turned into a duck's butt? There's no evidence, he's made sure, but yes. And Starks have always turned out to be beautiful, doesn't matter your gender or age. Finding a companion for the night has never been a problem for anyone in his family tree.

That, and his work as Iron Man has kept him — well, not ripped like Cap, certainly not as lean and (God help him) athletic as Peter, but fit. Sturdy. Firm. Solid. (Peter once muttered the words 'daddy-like' in regards to his body and he nearly choked on water.)

The passage of time has made him a bit slower, dusted once black hair with, as his husband says, stardust and the corners of his eyes now show how much time Tony spends laughing or frowning. All in all, he looks fucking spectacular for his age and experience as a villain-punching-bag. Thing is, he has a belly. A bump. A curve where it was once, well. Less curvy. Is it a problem for Peter? Nope, as acknowledged every time his alpha tackles him if he so much as looks oddly in the mirror. Is it a problem for him? He'll get back to you on that.

The point is, there's a belly when just a few months ago there wasn't such a pronounced belly. It's great, of course. Proof their child is growing steadily and Tony's body is adjusting to it accordingly. A small part of him, the omega part he actually lets live, is fascinated and proud. He's doing that, Tony's the one growing a human being, creating life out of nothing in his own body. That child, although not the only physical embodiment of their relationship, is a result of his love for Peter. Of how much his husband loves him. They love each other so much they're gonna start another family together. That chokes him up a bit, reminds him how grateful he is for Peter and for the other Avengers. If they hadn't been so accepting of his status, would he have ever considered going through with this?

Anyway, he's not gonna start sobbing this early in the morning when there's no alcohol involved. It's fantastic seeing his child develop, good, warm and fuzzy feelings, yada yada yada, it's also not very easy to hide. And Tony...Tony wanted to hide it from his family because.

Because Peter hasn't been the only partner in all his life that has wondered about a future with a white picket fence. Because when he was Peter's age, in his goddamn prime, a doctor, ten doctors, all the doctors told him the same thing, smashed his dream into a million pieces. Tony was nearly infertile. There was a one in a million chances of him getting pregnant. If he did, they couldn't be sure his body would be able to maintain two hearts. And then the cave happened.

So yeah. It happened to his cousins, his aunt, a few uncles, his grandmother. Tony would do a baby announcement, but only the second that baby was outside of him and safely in his arms. Now there are still several months left and nothing certain. But time is a bitch and beginning to show the world, maybe those extra pounds aren't from eating the Parker's amazing breakfasts.

"Tony, you know I don't wanna risk-" Losing control of my strength. They've been together long enough that Tony can see quite clearly between the lines.

"Hurting us, yeah, I know, I understand. I'm getting too wide, we're gonna have to tell them or Natasha will take one look at me and whoops, impromptu announcement from someone else. It's a miracle she was out on those missions when we found out." Thank God for renegade troops.

He's still looking at himself in the mirror when Peter comes out, barely dries up and slides behind him. His husband is slightly taller now, can easily hook a curved jaw on Tony's shoulder to peer at the image they make. Contrasts, he supposes, have always enthralled Tony. The study of light and shadow. Variations of the same basic components. Where his body is aging, showing signs of wear and tear, Peter's is evolving into something beautiful, majestic. Silver hair, chestnut brown. Scarred canvas, silky smooth and sunkissed skin. Soft, fragile curves, chiseled lines that deserve to be revered more than Michelangelo’s David. But their eyes, their eyes are equally tired.

“We can tell them if you want, have dinner together and just, just say it. Like that -”

“No. It's our kid, we're not gonna act like it's ripping off a band aid. This is special, unique. Dinner is good. Fantastic, actually. Wait for dessert, and announce it. “ Peter comes ever closer, wraps arms that could carry the world around him and how did he get so lucky?

They've lied to each other in the past. Mostly in the beginning, when they were too worried about hurting their new relationship to show their desires and wants. Tony didn't explain the Training Wheels Protocol. Peter tried to fight high level crime on his own. Things got hard to understand, like being in the right place at the wrong time. Puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit together, an extra inch of space prohibiting them from seeing all the possibilities that the truth could bring. They were walking the same path, just in parallel lines that never crossed.

But then he'd been rejected, thrown away and able to realize how fucking stupid it was to let Peter go when being near the kid, it felt like finally breathing after residing in the deep end of a pool for a thousand years. So Tony ran after him one day, crashed into his AP English class, half assed an excuse for the baffled teacher, yanked Peter out of the room and proceeded to have the best make out session of his life with his back against the kid's locker. And now they don't lie, ever.

Which is why it's so hard to accept Peter's, “You're beautiful, Tony. The handsomest man I've ever seen in my life. I loved you before, I love you now, I'll love you forever, Anthony Stark. You carrying our kid doesn't change that, how could it, Tony? It's going to be ok. The three of us will be ok and I won't stop thanking whoever decided I'd get to marry my wet dream.”

Scorching kisses trace his pulse point slowly, sharp nails start dragging against a too thin shirt, but it's the fact that Peter hasn't looked away from him, is confidently holding his gaze through the glass, that makes Tony shudder and stop breathing.

The bathroom is flooded with pheromones, cinnamon and honey assaulting an unprepared billionaire, and he'll die if they stay like this, can't function properly, brain switching gears, trying valiantly to remember baseball stats, past wounds, May's cooking because Peter's gonna wreck his sanity if those hands keep winding down, if those lips don't stop unraveling him like a Christmas present.

“If I'd known you'd get this handsy and romantic, I would have complained about how I look earlier." It's a gasp, half murmur, half plea as Peter grins at him shamelessly. “I know it's rude and wrong and sexist, but I like comforting my omega, acting like a stereotypical alpha. Makes me feel like I'm doing my job of making you happy. “

He quirks an eyebrow, is glad Peter can be comfortable enough to take the reins every once in a while. “You're telling me that assuring me I'm still drop dead gorgeous, “ his husband snorts, nips at Tony's shoulder for that quip, “ makes you horny because you feel like an alpha comforting, and I quote, ‘your omega’? “

Peter reverts back to the shy teenager who could barely ask a girl out to the homecoming dance, ducks his head into Tony’s neck with a blush quickly spreading over damp skin. “Well, I've got news for you, sweetheart. Your wet dream also thoroughly enjoys it so you better break tradition and have sex with me to remind me I'm the hottest man you've ever seen. "

He's actually serious about this, his self esteem hasn't exactly been, you know, the best and Tony's mood always improves significantly after playing around in bed with Peter. Besides, it's a sign of trust. Peter won't hurt him or their child, will be able to hold back his strength. He always does.

Listen, it's not exactly moral, but he has more than enough problems to go ahead and analyze his attraction and dependency on Peter while pregnant.

“So, I can distract you from your bad thoughts by acting sort of possessive and taking you to bed? " Oh, he adores when his husband is afraid of showing a new side of himself and asks for permission ever so sweetly.

“Babe, if you don't, I'll kick you out of the apartment. Give me possessive Peter Parker any day you want, like I'm gonna complain about a gorgeous, brilliant twenty something year old all over me. Now what's it gonna be, alpha dear, bathroom or bedroom? I wouldn't mind the tile but, oh God, I forgot you could pick me up." Tony clings to broad shoulders, can't help but laugh because aren't they a pair?

-------------------------

After having what he's sure was the best sex of his life, Tony stumbles out of the bedroom with torn clothes, a dazed look in his eyes and several bruises blossoming around his neck. Peter's halfway out the doorway when Tony whistles, makes sure all their family is paying attention, blurts out, “Peter and I are having a kid. I'm pregnant, woohoo, it's great, it's amazing, save your congratulations for later. We'll do a proper thing soon, if anyone interrupts and they're not dying, I'll kill you myself. See you in a few hours, " and yanks him back in while Friday activates Sock on the Doorknob Protocol.

Rhodey and Nat clink glasses while waiting on the others to pay up on their bets regarding Tony and Peter's odd behavior.

--------------------------

Later, much later, like, two days later, they have a proper dinner with their family in the tower. There are balloons and streamers, cake and ice cream, warm hugs and gentle cheek kisses, subtle tears and full on weeping (Happy had to borrow a box of Kleenex), pictures and videos and a pile of gifts taller than Tony.

The most important thing, though, is that the A.I recorded the reaction after Clint asked about baby names. He's grateful they went to the doctor before tonight. The visit revealed a treasure Tony thought he'd never have. Now it's time to reveal it to their pack.

His husband snuggles up to him, is so ecstatic the whole dining room smells like cinnamon and honey, like joyous love he'll never get enough of. Tony grins at him, curls their hands together and repeats the same thing over and over again in his head.

It'll be ok. They'll be ok. If the universe keeps giving Tony the greatest gifts he could ever want, maybe it's time he stopped looking at the horse's mouth. That's how it goes, right? Right.

He turns to look at Peter, loves him so much it aches, feels tiny feet pressing against his stomach. Guesses he's not the only one smitten with this incredible human being.

“We were thinking Marie,” Peter smiles at him, eyes lit up and lovely.

Tony is never going to forget this moment, this warmth in his chest.

“And Benjamin Parker-Stark.”

Their family loses their shit and both Friday and Karen have ample proof.

(@puppypeter look, omega tones! @tonystarkisaslut thank you so much for allowing me to use the prompt board! I am still accepting prompts! Although I can't guarantee getting them ready within a few days, I'll try to finish them on the one week mark depending on how long the fic is!)

#tony stark #peter parker #starker #peter parker x tony stark #ironspider #peter x tony #soft!starker #lovely anon #prompt fill #my writing #baby announcement #alpha!peter #omega!tony #omegaverse starker #did i love writing this? #yes i did #mpreg #a/b/o

[votederpycausemufins]

The bots are all fixed!!! Well, they are physically. Mentally is another question which we’re not covering hahahahahaHAHAHA! also wack, no smp members. @petrichormeraki @helleborusangel

“There, that should do it. We might want for someone to test it out in the near future, but it does look like it’s fixed.” Xisuma spoke as both of the bots powered back on. “I can see why we had trouble before. It looks fine if you’re not actively looking for that problem specifically.”

“Thank you very much Xisuma.” Mumbo said, checking both of the bots over for his own peace of mind.

“Of course. I also got a response from Biffa in the middle of it all, and while he’s not willing to share all the details of his past, he was willing to give a few notes. As these two are player entities, natural world magic is going to help them adapt more to that. He’s willing to come visit in a few weeks to see the two of them if you’re all okay with that.”

Mumbo looked over to Grian who nodded. “That’s more your guys’ call. You both knew him much longer than me. I mean, we interacted of course and he seemed nice, but you know better.”

“Well X, I think that would be lovely.” Mumbo replied, looking back to the admin.

“You know, is it just a family thing to like people in pink, or is it just coincidence.” Grifter spoke up, making everyone look over at him exasperatedly.

“Did you have to follow us in here?” Mumbo groaned, and Grifter just nodded, feathers coming off of him as he moved from stray ones sticking to his clothes.

“Too many chickens outside. Inside’s safer. Besiiiiiiides it’s less boring in here. And I’m the one who even knew what was wrong with your kids. Also yeah, you fixed it, no need for testing.”

“You’re not lying, are you?” Grian asked, crossing his arms.

“Of course not. What would I get out of lying about it?” Grifter shrugged. “They also look like my little pumpkin rolls, so why would I want to hurt them?”

“Didn’t your version of Jrum try killing ours?” Mumbo said with a frown.

Grifter just scoffed. “I told him about the bug! He was going to make sure your kid respawned correctly. I just needed some help and for you not to know. It worked out in the end, didn’t it? It only didn’t work out for those asshole admins and me.”

“Speaking of, Tommy’s old world has a console now. Well, a console other than Grum. Is the hels version the same?” Mumbo asked, genuinely curious, though the smile that Grifter gave worried him.

“Weeeell, the short answer is no, it’s got a new admin. The longer answer is that the new admin is meee!”

“You?!”

“I’m sorry why you?! I’m not the admin here! I’m not even opped!”

“I know you’re fucking not.” Grifter rolled his eyes, pulling a stray feather off of his sweater. “Our worlds are parallel but they aren’t one to one equals, dumbass. And we’re not just influenced by the shit that happens here. May I remind you that I was a Listener when Deevo and Evo started while you only became a Watcher when it ended. Or at least close to the end. And my boys were born before you built these two. The worlds sometimes force themselves together, like NPG staying around when I was gone and my boys not functioning until yours were around or… you know… Tommy being pulled to Hermitcraft after Theseus ran off to Helscraft.”

That got everyone’s attention. “Wait, is that why Tommy doesn’t know how he got here?”

Grifter smirked. “Yeah. After Nightmare got killed, Thee got the admin powers. He was pissed over things and ran off looking for me. Of course I was imprisoned and Dad wasn’t letting anyone near me, so the best he could find was season five. Member changes are always a forced thing, so I guess something pulled Tommy here to fix it that way.

“But wait, won’t that…” Grian trailed off.

“Shove you into the SMP? Fuck no. I’m admin, but I’m not gonna live there. I’m a Listener, I can check on things while living in Helscraft. Besides, things are different with NPG around. I mean, unless I kill him-”

“Don’t you dare!”

Grifter huffed. “I wasn’t gonna! Despite how much I hate him, he was the one person caring for Sense when he was all alone, so I’ll give him that. So no death, maybe just some torture. Anyway, I’m sure you’re visiting, so it balances out. Probably.” He finished with a shrug.

“Oh joy of joys.” Mumbo groaned while Grian looked so done with the world.

While all of this had been going on, both of the bots had completely powered on. At first they just took in their surroundings, staying quiet since it was clear others were in the middle of important conversations. Then they saw each other.

With everything that had happened, the two bots had barely been in each other’s company, and when they were, they were at each other’s throats. Jrum was the first to look away in shame as he could remember most of what happened clearly, but Grum was a bit fuzzy on a number of details. He hesitated, reaching out towards his brother a bit, before just pulling his hand back.

When it seemed the conversation was coming to a close, Grum got Jrum’s attention and used his screen and hands to signal something before looking over to their dads. “Um, Dads?”

Mumbo and Grian both looked over to Grum when he spoke up. “What is it Grum?”

“Could… Could Jrum and I have a bit of time alone? To… talk with each other?”

The pair looked to Xisuma since it was his place. X nodded before helping to lead them as well as Grifter out of the room and to somewhere else.

For a few moments, both of the bots were quiet, just sitting there, unsure what to say. Then Jrum started up the conversation. “I’m sorry for being mad at you. I got all upset at Dad getting upset at family, but then I was doing the same thing.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I was the one who started things. You reacted to my actions and were influenced by those red plants.”

“Yeah, but Dream was messing with you and made you be mean!”

“No he didn’t.” Grum replied, which confused Jrum for a few moments before Grum elaborated. “I started realizing something was weird and I panicked. I was worried I would do something really bad and hurt you. I didn’t know what exactly, and I also wasn’t sure if I could safely tell you. I knew if I said something kindly or nicely asking us to distance ourselves, nothing would work until I explained more. And I didn’t want to have to deal with you asking to stay because I didn’t want you to go either. So I just sort of… let myself be mean. I can’t even blame it on someone else. It was me and only me.”

Jrum was quiet, just processing what his brother had said. Then, after a few seconds, he scooted closer and hugged Grum. “Then that’s not your fault! You didn’t know what was safe to say, and that’s because the admin was - don’t let Daddy know I said this - Dream was a piece of shit!” Grum paused before giggling a bit, not expecting his brother to say that. “What? It’s true!”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… nice to be with you again.”

Jrum smiled and hugged a little tighter. “Yeah, and now we’re gonna be closer because we went through trauma together! Speaking of which… how long do you think we can milk this?”

Grum pulled away from the hug to rub his ‘chin’. “Well, Dad is more likely to notice we’re up to something, so only a week or two with him. But if we play our cards right, we can keep things going with Daddy for a month. Maybe even more.”

“What? That long?”

“Well, we sort of got stuck in a time displacement bubble for a month all by ourselves and got controlled by different things. We would need to be careful and not make it seem like we’re having a relapse, but if we have a, quote unquote bad day, we can definitely get a lot out of it.”

“I’m going to build a new shop.”

“Good idea, so many people will want to support us. We might even get a discount on some land in Aquoo town. From Scar and not Bdubs of course.”

“Of course, we have more sway over Scar.” Jrum nodded.

“The question is what to sell.”

“Yeah, that part’s gonna be a bit harder. Hmm, maybe a gardeni-”

“Nope! Absolutely not!”

“Ugh, rude. Hmm… Odea two?”

“Ooo, good idea, good idea. It also sounds like we could get some interaction with the SMP after this, we could outsource there. I mean, we already have the connections.”

“Oh definitely. Speaking of, I kinda said Fundy could come visit Hermitcraft a while ago. Do you think that would be allowed?”

“Oh easy. We can even get Michael and his dad to come too.”

“Yes! I’ve always wanted an actual playdate! And this time I won’t be almost killed by a clone!”

“Let’s find our dads and ask?”

“Definitely!” Jrum nodded, and the two bots jumped off of where they were sitting and went looking for their parents.

“Leave me alone Lynn.” Grian grumbled, wings puffing up.

“Not until you tell me what a Listener is doing here!” The other Watcher gestured to Grifter, who was giving her a smirk.

Grian sighed. “Basically I’m making sure he doesn’t destroy everything by keeping an eye on him. Unfortunately that means he needed to come here while I change some records.”

“Really? You changing records? I thought I’d never see the day.”

“Oh shut it. Remember that Watcher I asked about? You couldn’t find anything but I kept looking into it and found two unknown Watchers.”

“And let me guess, you figured out who they were. Was one of them Eyes?”

Grian half shrugged. “Yes and no? Uh, so both of them are my kids and Eyes is like… part of my one kid?”

“Oh you’re an idiot.”

“Hey hey hey! He’s not just an idiot, he’s also a dumbass!” Grifter spoke up, getting glares from both Watchers.

“But seriously. You used Watcher magic to build them?”

“I didn’t think I did! I mean, I guess maybe? But Mumbo was in charge of the redstone and the redstone was the mayoral reservoirs and that’s what was technically using magic.”

“I’m going to have to tell someone about this.”

“Okay. Can you just try to make sure it’s someone that’s not going to completely freak out?”

“Hmm, no promises.” Lynn replied, and then walked off before Grian could say more.

“Oh I like her.” Grifter smiled. “So how do you know each other?”

“She’s the Watcher that was in charge of at least part of the world I grew up in.”

Grifter nodded. “Well I would love to hear the stories she got from there. But that can wait. Where are we going now?”

“Records room. I need to officially list my boys as Watchers and then get their data transferred to their names.”

“Ughhhh that sounds boring. Where’s the cool stuff?”

Grian just groaned and led them to the records room, needing to give excuses to a few Watchers here and there on the way. He was able to quickly grab the needed files since he already knew where they were. Correcting the names was easy enough since they were currently unknown and waiting for the answer. Correcting other forms was harder though. Normally a Watcher had their name officialized before doing much work. Maybe once or twice based on the situation, and that was the case with Jrum seeing as how his only real use of magic was when Grian himself had triggered it. But Grum had a lot more.

Every time Grum accessed the mayoral reservoirs, he was really looking into all the political data that the Watchers had gathered over the years. That alone would be a hassle, but the fact that there was extra paperwork for accessing certain sub categories was causing more issues. Normally you needed permission for data on destroyed worlds, but of course Grum managed to bypass any blocks and get right into the data. And since he was unlisted, it had caused some more logging errors.

Grian half contemplated just flipping the table he was at. It would send paperwork everywhere, but a quick bit of magic would fix it, and it would feel gratifying. But then again, Grifter was here, and who knows how he would react. And Grian expected a worse case scenario there. “Okay, can I trust you for like three minutes to go tell Mumbo it’s going to take a while here?”

Grifter’s eyes lit up a little and he nodded. “Three minutes! Got it!” Grian immediately regretted it, but before he could say more, Grifter was gone.

Mumbo glanced at his communicator for the time. He expected Grian would take a while, but he also hoped he wouldn’t be gone too long. Plus, he was also worried that if the bots were left alone too long, they could get into trouble. He was just about to go check on them when he heard the sound of them running in his direction. 

Mumbo couldn’t help but worry about why they were running until he actually saw them. With everything that happened the past few days, his mind kept trying to jump to the worst outcome, but the moment he saw the boys smiling, it calmed him down.

“Daddy! Can we invite people over to play?” Jrum asked, looking hopeful.

“Even with everything that happened, we managed to make some friends. It would be nice to thank them by letting them get to visit here.”

“And I kinda said someone could come visit and they’re kinda our cousin and he knows Auncle Iskall so please please please can they come visit?”

“And Michael was nice too. I didn’t get to interact too much, but he seemed rather nice.”

“Pleeeeeaaaaaaaase!”

Mumbo tried to get them to calm down. “Alright, alright. I’m sure the two of you could use some time to relax and have fun. We just need to wait for your dad to come back so he could get them. It may also be a while since I’m sure he wants to wait for Tommy to want to come back too.”

“Okay! We can wait!” Jrum agreed. “Can we go check the shopping district until then?”

“I’m not sure. I should wait for your dad to come back.”

“But we are perfectly able to go on our own.” Grum pointed out. “And even if something were to happen, the shopping district is so commonly filled with others that another hermit would assist us should there be trouble.”

Mumbo hesitated, but then agreed. “Alright, but see if Iskall is home and then ask them to take you there. I don’t want something happening on the way there.”

Jrum was happy to agree, but for a moment, Grum hesitated, their screen changing a bit. “Could we possibly ask Uncle Scar instead?”

“I’m… not sure he’s around. Grum are you sure you should be going?”

Grum nodded. He didn’t want to leave Jrum alone again. “No. It’s fine. W-We can go see Auncle Iskall.”

Mumbo didn’t look completely convinced, but Jrum’s pleading look got him to look away for just a moment. “Alright, alright. Go on before I change my mind again.”

“Thank you!” Jrum smiled and started pulling Grum away. Grum followed behind, though he still looked reluctant, so once they were in the air, Jrum looked back to his brother. “Oh come on, we’re not actually gonna go get them. We’re just going to say we couldn’t find them and since Daddy didn’t give us a second option, we’re just going on our own.”

Grum nodded. “Thanks.”

“Oh don’t worry! To be completely honest, I completely agree with Grifter about chickens right now and feel like I’ll strangle and turtles I see! I sort of don’t even want to see Professor Beaks any time soon!”

“Is that about the-”

“Yeah it’s about the flipping egg!”

“Sorry.” Grum apologized and Jrum made them land so they could hug each other.

“It’s fine. We already went over a bunch. Life sucked, but apparently that’s like… a family thing. I kinda want to give Daddy trauma though just to make it equal.”

“I think he has enough from dealing with us all.”

“Hmmmm you’re probably right. Okay let’s go scam Scar!”

The two of them eventually reached the shopping district and Aqua Town. It took a little bit of searching, but they eventually found the mayor. He already wasn’t the best and giving good prices for his land, but the fact that he was also up against two traumatized children, one of which he slightly feared, didn’t help his case. In the end, he got seven diamond blocks from the bots and Grum happily started building the new shop. 

Jrum went back and forth between the plot and Odea to figure out prices and stocking the place. He was glad to see Grum was happy, and then even more when he saw their dad flying their way. “Dad! Dad! Over here!” Grian heard Jrum and flew down, landing next to the bot. “Look! We’re making a new shop!”

“Oh really? What are you going to sell?” Grian responded, and Jrum had to keep from frowning. The tone of Grian’s voice sounded off. Jrum’s best guess was that something bad happened with whatever he had been doing and he was upset at that, but Jrum also couldn’t be sure.

“Well, it’s going to be a branch of Odea. I’m hoping that if we’ve got lots of people visiting that aren’t all amazing builders and redstoners like everyone here that they’ll want to buy Daddy’s designs! And since everything is moving to Aquway Town, we’re having a place here so it’ll get noticed!”

“Oh, that sounds like a great idea! And it looks like someone’s gotten really far with building already.” Grian looked up to where Grum was standing on the scaffolding, placing blocks down.

“Yeah! I’m glad he looks so happy! Oh! By the way! When you pick up Tommy, can you also ask if Michael and Fundy want to visit? I kinda said Fundy could and then I think Michael would like it too. If his parents have to come along, I wouldn’t mind. And they’re Tommy’s friends so that way he can have people visit too!”

Grian smiled sweetly. “Oh of course we can do that! I’m sure Xisuma would be fine with it all!”

“Yay! I can’t wait!”

“Welp, I’m going to go check on the rest of Aqua Town!” Grian said, starting to walk off. “I don’t want to get too far while I wait for Tommy’s message.”

“Yeah oka- wait. Dad, what did you call this place?” Jrum asked, catching that Grian used the real name of the area.

“Uh… well I better check on Barge Co.! Eep!” Grifter started to back up, but then jumped as an egg was thrown down next to him, followed by another, and then yet another. “AHH! It’s Poultry Man! Run away!!!”

Jrum looked up to see that the eggs had come from Grum, who quickly signalled a sorry to Jrum, which the bot quickly accepted. Grum ended up gliding down to join his brother and the both of them dealt with Grifter, somehow managing to send the helsmit back to Grian, unintentionally making their Dad groan as more paperwork appeared for him.

#hermit!tommy au #hermit!tommy #xisumavoid #xisuma #grian #watcher!grian #grian xelqua #avian!Grian #mumbo jumbo #grumbot #jrumbot #hels!grian #the watchers (evo)

[binary5tar]

Once Upon a Dream

Pairing: Yoonmin (Yoongi/Jimin)

Genre/AU: Smut, Supernatural/Demon AU, strangers to lovers

Rating: E for Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Smut, Demons, Incubi/Succubi, Demon Jimin, Virgin Jimin, First Time

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Yoongi meets the man of his dreams. Literally. Jimin has been visiting Yoongi's dreams for weeks and finally decides to show up in person. Yoongi is surprised to discover not only is Jimin real, and an incubus (aka a sexy sex demon), he is also a cute blushing virgin. Yoongi kindly offers to change that last part.

A/N: So, this is my first fic in a while. And the first fic with smut in even longer. I'm feeling a little out of practice so please forgive any awkwardness. This was written for @chemicalpink​ for a fic exchange with The BTS Writers' Club. It also fits the July monthly prompt of "x to lovers" as Strangers to Lovers. And because I love double dipping apparently it is also filling my Min Yoongi bingo square for BTS Writing Bingo.

Link: AO3

Yoongi answered the door to the last face he ever expected to see.

"You!" He blurted. He froze but his gut twisted with desire.

In his doorway stood the man of his dreams. Literally. Yoongi had dreamt about him many times over the past few weeks. He was dressed casually in well fitted jeans and a loose white t-shirt with a jean jacket over it. His black hair hung slightly in his face and his lips quirked in a smile.

"Me," he agreed.

Yoongi blinked. He couldn't be real. Yoongi had assumed his mind had conjured up his ideal type and been haunting him with it. Not that there was an actual person who looked like the man from his dreams. Maybe they had met sometime before and Yoongi had just forgotten.

"I'm sorry. But, um, do we know each other? Have we met?" Yoongi asked. Every detail of his face was etched in Yoongi's memory and part of him wanted to bury his fingers in the man's hair and kiss him breathless. But, that was crazy, right?

The man looked offended at the question. "Of course. I'm Jimin. I've been in your dreams many times. I didn't realize I was that easily forgettable." Jimin pouted slightly.

"You're not!" Yoongi assured him. "I-" Yoongi wasn't sure what to say. There was no way this was real. People don't share dreams. And yet, he couldn’t deny that Jimin felt so familiar.

Yoongi just stood there staring dumbfounded until Jimin shifted nervously. “Can I come in?” he asked.

Yoongi suddenly remembered his manners and jumped back. "Please. Make yourself at home. I’m sorry for the mess.” Yoongi was suddenly grateful that in the dreams the background was just hazy grey. Nothing had really mattered outside him, his partner and the bed. He swallowed thickly as the memories flooded his mind. “Would you like something to drink?" Yoongi ran one hand through his hair. He didn't know the protocol for having a guest that was both a total stranger and someone he'd dreamt, countless times, with varying degrees of intensity, about fucking.

Jimin for his part looked mildly amused at Yoongi's confusion.

"How?" Yoongi finally asked. It was the only word bouncing around in his head.

"Oh… I'm an incubus." 

Jimin said it as though that explained everything but Yoongi was still confused. He vaguely remembered stories about incubi and succubi seducing humans and having their way with them. But he'd assumed, like most rational, sane people, those were stories made up to explain vivid dreams, pre-marital sex and adultery.

"An incubus?"

"A, well uh, a sex demon." Jimin smiled a little awkwardly but tried to push past it. "Is it too vain to say a sexy sex demon too?" He grinned.

He was stunning, gorgeous, sexy, Yoongi had mentioned it to Jimin in the dreams. But right now, Yoongi was still confused and starting to get slightly concerned. Either he was going crazy or... He swallowed nervously. "Are you going to kill me now?" If he was a demon, there probably wasn't much Yoongi could do about it but he still tried to run through anything he could use as a weapon.

Jimin looked shocked. "What? No! Why would I…?" He sighed, twisting his fingers nervously. "Look, I just wanted to meet you in person. If it's freaking you out too much I can leave." He took a step toward the door.

"No!" Yoongi put out his hands to stop him and moved to block the door. "It's just weird. I've been dreaming about you for weeks. I thought I was going crazy. But…You're real." He could hear the wonder, even reverence, in his voice. He wanted to reach out a hand to touch Jimin’s face and confirm he was solid but held himself back. Dreams were different from reality and what was allowed there, probably wasn’t here.

"Yeah." Jimin stopped fidgeting. He met Yoongi's eyes and they stared at each other for a moment, the air becoming charged. For as often as Yoongi had dreamed of Jimin, he'd thought about Jimin during his waking hours too. He'd wondered what Jimin would be like if he were real. He'd felt a chemistry that had gone beyond sex but the dreams never allowed them to explore it much. Now, Jimin was here, in his kitchen.

"So." Yoongi swallowed. "What does this mean? If you aren't here to kill me…"

Jimin toed at the floor. "I just wanted to talk to you. We've only gotten bits of conversations in the dreams after…"

"You're blushing!" Yoongi couldn't help the exclamation that burst from him. "You're a sex demon. A sexy sex demon. And you're blushing talking about dirty dreams." Yoongi chuckled when Jimin blushed further but frowned again. "...wait...were they dreams or did they actually happen?"

Jimin shook his head. “They were dreams. It's just part of my power to be able to enter humans’ dreams, to…um..." He faltered but eventually finished. "Feed.”

Yoongi gulped. "Feed?" Maybe Jimin wasn't going to kill him now, maybe he was just slowly killing him in his dreams. He didn’t want to die but couldn’t help thinking it might almost be worth it. Almost.

Jimin hurried to explain. "Yes, incubi and succubi feed off human sexual energy. It regenerates within a week, sometimes less depending on the person. So we can enter dreams to… well you know…and it doesn't hurt the humans so long as we don't… feed… too often." Jimins cheeks were pink again.

Yoongi chuckled. "You're blushing again." It was cute. And made Yoongi want to squish his cheeks. Had he ever thought demons were real he wouldn't have imagined he'd want to squish their cheeks. "Aside from being gorgeous, you aren't really what I pictured a sex demon to be like."

Jimin seemed bothered by this comment, pouting his lower lip out, furthering his cuteness. "I… I'm young. And somewhat inexperienced."

Yoongi chuckled again, darker this time as his mind filled with memories of their escapades. "You didn't seem inexperienced in the dream."

Jimin was now as red as a tomato. "I, uh, dreams are dreams. It's easier."

Yoongi wasn't sure what that meant. "Huh. Well, the blushing is still kind of cute."

"Thanks," Jimin mumbled, looking away embarrassed.

"How young is young for a demon?" Yoongi expected he was hundreds of years old or something, like vampires from romance books, and was ready to make a crack about looking good for his age.

"I'm 22," Jimin said. "We age the same as humans. Aside from different sources of energy and a few special powers, we aren't all that different." He shrugged, his blush starting to subside.

Yoongi's curiosity was piqued. "How often do you… feed? Fuck? I'm not sure what you'd call the mind blowing dreams," he said with a lascivious grin.

"Feeding," Jimin was quick to answer. "Only once a week or so."

"Wait...So then why was I dreaming of you more than that?" Yoongi drew his brows together thinking. He'd definitely dreamed about Jimin more than once a week.

"Y-you were?" Jimin seemed equally confused. "That must have been your own mind then."

"Oh." It was Yoongi’s turn to be embarrassed. "I probably wasn't your only source of food either."

"No...you were."

Yoongi felt a little better. If Jimin kept coming back, maybe he had enjoyed their nights together too. "If I've been your only source of food for a few months now. Doesn't that get boring? Isn't it like a human having the same thing everyday?"

Jimin hesitated. "Most incubi would say yes but… um… I quite enjoyed my, er, time with you." He brushed his hair out of his face, cheeks burning again. "It's why I came to meet you in person," he mumbled.

Yoongi laughed. "We've fucked a bunch in my dreams. And you're apparently a literal sex demon. There's really no need to blush like a virgin everytime sex comes up." 

Jimin gave a weak chuckle. "Oh, yeah, right."

Something about the way he agreed made Yoongi curious. "Wait… you aren't actually a virgin, right? You've had sex, outside of dreams?"

Jimin toed at the floor again and didn't answer.

"But wait, is it even different for you in dreams? For a human it is. Those were vivid dreams but they were still dreams. Maybe for you it isn't like that?"

"It's… I don't…. I don't know," Jimin muttered. He was sticking out his lower lip again. "Other incubi say it is."

"So… you are a virgin!" Yoongi exclaimed.

"Yes."

Yoongi laughed in surprise. "I'm sorry I don't mean to laugh. It's not bad. It really doesn't actually mean anything. It's just odd that… you… of all people are a virgin."

"You don't have to keep rubbing it in," Jimin pouted. He was still cute, all frowny and mad, but Yoongi could tell it was actually bugging him.

"I'm sorry," Yoongi said sincerely. "I'm not trying to rub it in. Like I said, it doesn't even matter. It's such a made up thing."

"Easy for you to say," Jimin huffed.

Yoongi shrugged. "True." A thought occurred to him. "I could help you with that if it's a problem?" He grinned slyly, arching an eyebrow. He stepped closer, into Jimin’s space. The tension between them was familiar. He knew how to make Jimin feel good and he was eager to prove it.

Jimin shook his head and backed up till his back hit the wall. "No no, that's not it. It's okay. I wanted to talk to you. Just… get to know you."

Yoongi frowned. He’d been the one asking all the questions. He cocked his head to the side, still slowly closing the distance between them. "Oh, then what do you want to know?"

Jimin licked his lips. "Um. I don't know anymore." 

It was obvious Jimin was frazzled from Yoongi's nearness. He waited to see if Jimin would say anything then stepped closer.

"What’s your favorite color?" Jimin blurted.

Yoongi paused. "White. Yours?"

"Blue."

Yoongi took another step.

 "When's your birthday?" Jimin asked nervously. He was looking at Yoongi, his eyes round and flicking to his lips every few seconds.

"March 9th."

"October 13th. You're a pisces."

Yoongi nodded in agreement. "Any other questions?"

Jimin made a pained expression. "All I can think about right now is whether your lips are as soft in real life as they are in the dream."

"I can answer that too." Yoongi stepped forward again, now close enough to feel Jimin's heat. "And… you know… there's plenty of time for talking… later. I've got all night." He put one hand on the wall next to Jimin and stepped close enough their thighs were just touching.

Jimin met his gaze, his eyes wide and dark. "Yeah?"

Yoongi licked his lips and hummed in agreement. Jimin smelled amazing, sweet and intoxicating, better even than he had in his dreams. Yoongi reached out to cup Jimin’s face and stroke his lower lip with his thumb. He was as solid as Yoongi had been hoping, so either this was a very vivid dream or hallucination or it really was real. Yoongi had stopped caring either way. "...Jimin?"

"Yes?" He said breathlessly.

"Can I kiss you?" Yoongi asked.

"Yes."

Yoongi closed the space between them, pressing Jimin against the wall. Jimin’s hands came up to find their usual place, one around Yoongi’s waist and one buried in the hair at the nap of his neck. 

Their lips met eagerly, moving against each other in practiced patterns. The lightest pressure of Yoongi’s thumb on Jimin’s chin had him opening invitingly. As they explored each other's mouths, Yoongi let his hands explore Jimin’s body, finding the familiar jut of Jimin’s hip bone, the pebbled hardness of his nipples, and the delicate curve of his ass. Everything was familiar but given new life in reality. Jimin’s hands on his body were like brands, raising heat wherever they went.

Yoongi finally had to gasp for air, pulling away sharply but staying close enough to brush his forehead against Jimin’s. Jimin swayed, his head knocking against Yoongi’s hard enough to hurt.

“Ouch.” Yoongi leaned his head away and got a better look at Jimin. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glazed. “Are you okay?”

Jimin shook his head and blinked a few times. “Yeah, sorry. I guess it is different in person.”

Yoongi brushed Jimin’s hair off his forehead. “We can stop,” he said, though every inch of his flaming skin begged Jimin to say no. “Just talk, like you wanted.”

Jimin shook his head again. “No I…” He wound his arms around Yoongi’s neck but looked away. “I want to keep going… if you do.”

“Oh, I definitely do.” Yoongi ground himself against Jimin’s hip so he could feel just how much he wanted to keep going. Jimin moaned when Yoongi’s thigh rubbed against his erection. “Want you so bad,” Yoongi mumbled against Jimin’s lips.

“Yes,” Jimin gasped.

Yoongi broke the kiss to meet Jimin’s eyes. They were a little hazy still, dark with want. “We can go slow. If it’s too much, tell me.”

Jimin nodded.

Yoongi took Jimin’s hand and led him to the bedroom. He quickly shed his own baggy t-shirt before helping Jimin with his own. The sight of Jimin shirtless made his mouth water. He marveled at the smooth skin, solid beneath his palms, he could feel Jimin’s heart beating frantically and the red flush of warmth across his chest.

Jimin seemed to be doing the same, combing gentle fingers through Yoongi’s hair and running his hands over his neck and shoulders. 

Yoongi had said they could go slow, so he resisted throwing Jimin on the bed and pouncing on him. Instead, he kissed him gently and guided him back to lay in the middle of the bed. He climbed over him, slotting one leg between Jimin’s and propping himself up on his elbows to look down at Jimin’s beautiful face.

“You are so gorgeous,” Yoongi marveled.

Jimin blushed and bit his lip.

“A sexy sex demon for sure.” Yoongi chuckled and his joke made Jimin smile. 

He pressed a soft kiss to Jimin’s plush lips before leaning down to mouth his way over Jimin’s neck. He tried to go slow, to let Jimin get used to the feel of his mouth and tongue against his skin, the soft sucks and gentle bites. He already knew where Jimin was most sensitive though, and he laved extra attention to his nipples, nipping gently just below them in a way that had driven Jimin crazy in the dreams. It seems to have a similar effect in reality. Jimin arched and moaned, his fingers digging sharply into Yoongi’s shoulders. 

Yoongi glanced up at Jimin’s face to check on him before moving lower. He held his gaze as he undid Jimin’s jeans and pulled them down. Jimin lifted his hips to help.

There was a wet spot already at the tip of the bulge in Jimin’s boxers. Yoongi leaned down to press his mouth to it, licking through the fabric.

Jimin let out a garbled cry, his hands fisting in the sheets.

“It’s okay, relax. I’ll go slow,” Yoongi murmured, rubbing calming circles into Jimin’s muscular thighs.

Jimin whimpered but settled.

Yoongi rubbed higher, till his thumbs brushed against Jimin’s balls. He lowered his mouth to the base of Jimin’s cock, pressing open mouth kisses and cupping his sack.

Jimin hummed above him in appreciation. Yoongi had always loved how vocal Jimin had been in his dreams. He was glad to see that in person it wasn't much different. He was a little quieter but Yoongi chalked it up to nerves.

Eventually Yoongi sat up and tugged Jimin’s boxers down. He almost gasped to finally see Jimin bare, all that smooth tan skin and at the center, Jimin’s cock, hard and red and leaking.

He leaned down, licking a stripe up Jimin’s cock and dipping his tongue in pre cum gathered at the slit. It was almost sweet, just like the rest of him.

He repeated the action, provoking a shuddering breath from Jimin. This time Yoongi ended with wrapping his lips around the tip of Jimin's cock. He sucked, taking more into his mouth and massaging the underside with his tongue.

"Fuck, that feels good." Jimin's voice was high at the end. One hand scratched against Yoongi’s scalp and tugged gently at his hair.

"Yeah?" Yoongi popped off and stroked Jimin's cock. "Tell me how good it feels," Yoongi encouraged, before sucking Jimin down as far as he could.

Jimin bucked his hips up into Yoongi's mouth with a surprised pleasured groan. "Ah, fuck, fuck. So-so good," Jimin mumbled, his head was turned to the side so his voice was muffled by the pillow.

"Yeah?" Yoongi asked again.

"Fuck, I knew you were good with your mouth in the dreams but-ah," Jimin stuttered as Yoongi flicked his tongue expertly. 

Yoongi smirked. "You haven't seen anything yet." He sat back and tapped Jimin on the side encouraging him to flip over. Jimin obliged and lifted his hips when Yoongi grabbed them so he was on hands and knees.

This gave Yoongi a perfect view of Jimin's ass. He palmed both globes, kneading the firm flesh, and marveling at how fucking gorgeous Jimin was. He didn't think it was possible for a person this hot to exist and yet here he was. Sexy sex demon was right.

He brushed a thumb over the tight ring of muscle causing Jimin to jump a little. He used his other hand to massage Jimin’s ass, encouraging him to relax. He pressed light kisses along his cheeks until he was close enough to breathe across Jimin’s hole. Jimin shuddered a little but this time Yoongi didn’t let him adjust. He pressed his tongue to his furled entrance, licking and nibbling. Jimin cried out in surprise but was soon lost in the feeling, moaning senseless praise. 

Yoongi filled him with his tongue over and over, using his chin for leverage to get as deep as possible. Jimin was voicing his pleasure loud enough Yoongi might have worried the neighbors would complain if he wasn't enjoying it so much. His own cock ached untouched between his legs but Yoongi ignored it. 

When his jaw started to ache, Yoongi stopped to admire his work. Jimin's hole was puffy pink and glistening with spit. He rubbed it with his thumb and this time Jimin leaned into it, asking for more. Yoongi obliged, licking his thumb, soaking it in spit and sliding in to the first knuckle. 

Jimin pushed back against him, whining. “Just fuck me already, please.”

Yoongi chuckled. “We’ll get there." He moved his thumb in a circle, testing Jimin’s tightness. Before the spit could dry, he leaned over to the night stand and pulled out a bottle of lube. He squeezed some onto his fingers, curling them to try to warm it up a bit. "This might be cold, sorry," Yoongi mumbled.

Jimin flinched when Yoongi used two fingers to spread the lube but it wasn't long before he was back to panting and moaning. 

"You're still so tight," Yoongi said, two fingers buried in Jimin's ass. He eased them out slowly, scissoring them to try to loosen Jimin enough to take him. 

This part was new. In the dreams, Jimin had always been ready for him. Yoongi still ate him out or fingered him to tease but Jimin was always ready to take his cock whenever Yoongi wanted. It reminded Yoongi this was real and he marveled again at Jimin's existence.

"Please, I need your cock. Fuck me already. Fill me up. Please." Jimin's moans brought Yoongi more firmly back to the present. For a virgin, Jimin sure had a dirty mouth, but Yoongi wasn't complaining.

"Yeah? You think you're ready?" Yoongi slipped a third finger in alongside the other two and prodded at Jimin's prostate.

"Fuck, yes, please."

Yoongi really loved the begging. He couldn't resist anymore. He climbed off the bed to shuck his pants and boxers and grab a condom from the nightstand.

Jimin noticed the foil packet. "Oh, you don't, I mean, if you are comfortable bare, you don't have to. But if you aren't, I won't be offended."

Yoongi wondered whether incubi could even get std's but it didn't really matter. He believed Jimin was a virgin and he knew he was clean. So if Jimin didn't want him to use a condom, he was happy to toss it back in the drawer. 

Jimin bit his lip to hide a pleased grin. 

Once Yoongi was back in position, he popped open the bottle of lube again. He spread some over his cock gasping a little at the cold and the smooth glide of his hand. He was more wound up than he realized and hoped he wouldn’t end things too soon. 

He used the head of his cock to spread more lube on Jimin’s hole. He had to resist the animal urge to just fuck Jimin into the mattress then and there. 

"You ready?" Yoongi asked. He lined his cock up and put a reassuring hand on the small of Jimin's back. 

Jimin nodded.

"All you have to do is ask and I can stop or go slower. Whatever you need."

"Just do it already," Jimin huffed.

Yoongi smirked and gave Jimin’s ass a light smack. "Bossy," he mumbled.

Jimin rolled his eyes.

Yoongi leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on Jimin's spine. "I just don't want to hurt you."

With a deep breath, Yoongi pushed in.

"Ah," Jimin gasped.

Yoongi stopped, only the head of his cock gripped by Jimin's ass.

"You okay?"

"It's so much." Jimin had his head between his shoulders so Yoongi couldn't tell if it was a good too much or a bad too much.

"Keep going. Slow."

Yoongi swallowed. Slow was hard. Jimin was warm and slick around his cock, but Yoongi managed. He eased his way inside. All the while Jimin made pleasured-pained noises of encouragement that did nothing for Yoongi’s self control. 

When his hips finally met Jimin's ass they both sighed. 

Yoongi bent over to brush more kisses against Jimin's back. "You feel so good. So tight," he whispered.

"So do you," Jimin said, equally as quiet. "So big, so full. It's so much more than in the dreams."

Yoongi nodded in agreement. "Can I move now?"

"Yes. Slow though."

"Of course." Yoongi’s feral drive had evaporated once he was fully inside Jimin. All he wanted now was to hear Jimin’s soft sighs and feel his warmth around him over and over.

Yoongi eased out and gently back in, watching himself disappear. He checked Jimin's face for a reaction. When he didn't seem in pain he did it again and again. On every thrust Jimin would let out a breathy groan.

Jimin leaned back into Yoongi, their hips meeting harder and Jimin getting louder. Yoongi picked up the pace.

“Fuck, feels so good,” Jimin moaned.

Yoongi ran his hand down Jimin’s back. It didn’t feel like enough, so he wrapped an arm around Jimin’s chest and pulled him up against him. Jimin arched his back and laid his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi took the opportunity to nibble at Jimin’s neck. From this position he couldn’t thrust as hard so he settled for rocking up into Jimin as Jimin ground back against him.

Jimin let out a little chorus of “ahs” that Yoongi could feel through his chest. The sound went straight to the fire at the base of his spine.

“I love hearing how good I make you feel,” Yoongi whispered against Jimin’s ear. 

Jimin bit his lip making a high noise in the back of his throat.

Yoongi sucked Jimin’s neck and lowered one hand to Jimin’s cock, stroking it steadily. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, I’m getting close,” Jimin gasped.

Yoongi stopped and pulled out. Jimin blinked, startled, but Yoongi pushed him over onto his back and climbed between his legs before he could even ask.

“I want to be able to see you,” Yoongi said looking down at Jimin.

If Jimin could have blushed further he probably would have but all his blood was busy elsewhere. He nodded.

Yoongi lined his cock up and pushed in again. It was far easier this time but still felt amazing. He leaned down to kiss Jimin and he rocked into him. This way he could swallow all of Jimin’s little moans and gasps. He eased into a steady rhythm. When he felt Jimin getting close again, he sat back to free a hand to stroke Jimin’s cock. 

Watching Jimin fall apart beneath him was the most gorgeous sight Yoongi had ever seen. He still couldn’t believe it was real. He’d seen it in his dreams before, but so rarely do such beautiful visions become reality. Yoongi was a little in awe that this ethereal being had chosen his dreams to visit and his bed to occupy. 

Jimin met his eyes and must have read the intensity of his thoughts on his face. He reached out to pull Yoongi close enough to fill his fingers with Yoongi’s hair. “You make me feel so good. So fucking good.” Jimin’s eyes were dark and unfocused, his face flushed, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. 

Yoongi leaned forward for a harsh kiss. “So gorgeous. Want to see you come. Come for me baby.”

“Fuck, Yoongi!” Jimin threw his head back and arched off the bed, all his muscles tensed as he came. His brows furrowed and his mouth opened in a wordless cry. Jimin clenched around Yoongi’s cock, his walls pulsing with the waves of his orgasm. Yoongi wanted so badly to watch every second but it was too much. His vision went white and the universe seemed to explode into a million pieces. 

When the world finally pulled itself together, Yoongi could focus on Jimin looking up at him. His eyes were hazy and he smiled, fuzzy and soft. He reached for Yoongi for a lazy kiss which Yoongi returned happily.

Yoongi could feel his cock softening, so he pulled out and rolled to the side. 

“That was…” Yoongi laughed. He couldn’t even begin to describe it. 

“Yeah,” Jimin agreed, giggling. He rolled to his side to lean his forehead against Yoongi's shoulder. 

Yoongi shifted, tucking an arm under Jimin and pulling him close to let him lay against his chest. 

“So, sexy sex demon, different than dreams?” Yoongi asked, smirking.

Jimin nodded vigorously. “I feel like I could run a marathon.”

Yoongi frowned. “Uh…” Not the response he was expecting. He wasn’t sure if he should be offended.

“Oh, um… you meant…” He trailed off. “Yeah that was different too. Really different. I liked it though,” Jimin added quickly. 

Yoongi was still confused. He sat up to look at Jimin fully.

Jimin looked a little guilty. “Well, incubi don’t have to feed in dreams. They can feed in person. And it can actually be more, um, fulfilling, that way.”

Yoongi nodded considering. “Am I going to feel any different?”

Jimin shook his head. “You shouldn’t. It’s actually less draining for the humans this way.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward pause.

“So, you liked the sex though? Just… liked it?” Yoongi shouldn’t be surprised, he supposed. Jimin was a literal sex demon, they probably had really high standards. ”Because I thought it was pretty damn amazing.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “It was. I’m not sure any incubus has ever had a better first time. I’ll have to write epic poetry about your tongue and cock,” Jimin laughed. 

“Well if you insist.” Yoongi shrugged.

Jimin smacked him lightly. “It was a lot for me.”

“Yeah? Anything I can do? Want something to drink?”

“Maybe later. I was really enjoying the cuddling actually.”

Yoongi laid back down and opened his arms. “Me too.”

Jimin snuggled against him again. It probably should feel weird. They didn’t actually know each other that well. But Yoongi was content, especially when he was able to link his hand with Jimin’s over his chest. 

Yoongi yawned. “I might fall asleep.”

Jimin pinched his side. “You can’t. You owe me answers. You said after!”

Yoongi nuzzled Jimin’s hair and kissed the top of his head. His eyes are already feeling heavy.

“Oh fine. I guess I can just ask them in your dreams instead. You’ll probably be more honest that way anyway.”

Yoongi was too close to sleep to worry too much. If Jimin was in his dreams, it would be a good dream. And if Jimin was there when he woke up, it would be even better.

***

Jimin and Yoongi sat cross legged facing each other on the bed, the surroundings were dark and hazy but Yoongi wasn’t scared.

“So, first question…”

#thebtswritersclub #btswritingbingo #yoonmin #tash's crappy writing

[astralaffairs]

i know mc is specifically a political journalist, but what if she was covering a story like the blm on the side or a riot or smth, and happened to get arrested while on the job? any headcanons for how thom would react? i see him wanting to use his political influence to get her out but i feel like he might give away too much if he does that?? or would he not care at this point bc he just wants to make sure she's safe?

mc uses her prison phone call on either lafayette or dolley for the SOLE purpose of them getting her in touch w thom

because so many people were arrested, the cops arresting yet another journalist probably wouldn't make the news

so when she calls either dolley or laf she just has to hope that they know what she means when she says to "spread the word" that she's been arrested

when word reaches thomas about it, though, he damn near loses his mind because "they can't just hold her there indefinitely!!!!!"

however, because her invocation of habeas corpus is just met with a statement that she's suspected of "rioting" or some variation of theft or property destruction at the protests, they all realize that they can, in fact, hold her there indefinitely

because our criminal justice system is so wildly fucked up

being a certified Broke Bitch, our poor heroine cannot post bail, so she's there until either charges are dropped or she scrounges up enough money for bail

dolley and lafayette both come to visit her (regardless of who she calls w her one phone call, they each tell the other pretty quickly)

when they learn abt her situation, they're also freaking out

they both offer to pay her bail money, but considering that they're both public figures closely associated w the jefferson campaign, mc thinks it would look too sus

lafayette comes in the next day claiming to be her lawyer so he can talk to her alone (she j runs with it bc this might as well happen)

but really he just did it so he could have space to tell her that thomas was insisting on bankrolling her bail AND legal fees

his plan is to just fund it w/ offshore investments; if the $$ is coming from nevis, no one's gonna be able to track it back to him (haven't u heard thomas jefferson was implicated in the panama papers??)

she tells him fuck no u can't do that

because then she'd have evidence of him using offshore investments to evade taxes (and she'd publish that info w/o hesitation)

because of course he's guilty of tax evasion 🙄

she'd basically tell him to take his money out of the offshore accounts if he was gonna bankroll her anything; she refuses to let her bail fund b paid by dark money

meanwhile, alex and lafayette are about to throw down bc alex is pissed that lafayette is acting as mc's lawyer

"He doesn't even have a law degree! Why the hell would you trust him with this?"

and lafayette is ridiculously smug abt it, but he knows the only reason she's letting him act as her attorney is so he can act as an intermediary btwn her and thomas

(once she no longer needed to communicate w thom, lafayette would be losing his role there)

but anyway thomas quickly realizes she won't b letting him pay her bail fund (and that she's probably being more reasonable abt it than he is)

so, being the extra bitch he is, he literally funnels millions of dollars to washington dc bail funds (cool donation, mediocre motive)

however, despite him being lauded as a hero of the people and an Activist, mc's bail doesn't get paid

relative to the other people who are being held in the same jail as her, her bail is low-cost, and her charges aren't very serious, so bailing her out is low priority

so, being the extra bitch he is, thomas assembles a fucking legal team to take the arrest of reporters and journalists at the protests to the dc district courts as a first amendment violation

mc is fucking shocked when she finds out

she's even more shocked when she finds out alex forced his way onto thomas's legal team bc he decided he had a stake in the matter

he, of course, does not realize that thomas literally brought the case to the court for the sole purpose of freeing mc

and, yknow, protecting the bill of rights, of course

he wins his case, of course

it gets him ridiculously good press and his approval ratings jump significantly

he shows up at the holding cells at the county jail when the judge orders that all journalists and reporters are released partially to rub his win in the cops' faces

but also, by now, mc has been in a holding cell eating prison food for 8 days and thomas is absolutely worried sick

he hasn't seen her, spoken to her, or heard from her except by way of lafayette's interpretation of her words, and he has no clue how she's holding up

dolleys been doing her best to keep him updated

but, yknow, he has to personally see to it that the judge's orders are followed and the journalists are released

and mc is beyond overjoyed to see him

but she also thinks he was being extra as fuck, and he didn't need to do all this just to get her out

she thanks him for all his efforts in a very formal interaction when they're both at the county jail but she's clearly mildly amused that he went to all this trouble

and he just looks WORRIED AS SHIT. he wants to hug her and baby her and ask her if she's alright

instead, when she shakes his hand in a gesture of awkward gratitude, he subtly lets her know he'll be home all that evening

and then he's texting her all afternoon after she gets out

but she wants to stay home :( needs to be at her own place after all that time in a fucking holding cell

so she isn't shocked when thomas shows up for coffee at the diner around 10 pm

in fact, even tho she isn't working right then, she goes downstairs just on the hunch that he might show up

and when mc offers to let mira go, then, and leave closing up shop to mc, mira isn't shocked, either

by then, she's caught thomas sneaking out the back door of the building in the early morning one too many times for her to not suspect anything (even tho he always claims he was there for coffee, he swears)

mira just sighs and sends thomas upstairs w/ mc once the diner is all cleared out, and they're both like "shit shit fuck she knows oh my god"

but she doesn't push the conversation any further just then, so they figure it can wait until another day

and then, of course, thomas spends the night absolutely babying her

he insists on cooking for her since she didn't eat dinner (she claimed she didn't have an appetite, but he was fairly certain it was just the prison food making her feel sick)

she puts up a fight, but when the food is in front of her, it's a little too good to resist

and if they don't fuck when he spends the night, neither of them says anything about it. didn't this count as the "friends" part of "friends with benefits"?

and if it briefly occurs to them that friends aren't supposed to casually make out on their kitchen counters, they still don't say anything about it

and if mc spends the next couple nights sleeping better than she has in weeks because her bed smells like thomas, she doesn't say anything about it

#this got way too long and tangential #but thats ok #hzl talks #freedom of the press #hamilton x reader #hamilton #hamilton fanfic #hamilton fic #send me asks!

[thefloorisbalaclava]

pragma - part two

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Female reader

Warnings: mention of drugs

A/N: This part is entirely from Frankie’s point of view. I think it’s important to talk about what he’s feeling too. I also bring up the “charge” they mention like once in the movie. I wanted to expand on it a bit since we kind of got left hanging.

Summary: Frankie adjusts to you being in his life again and in turn is left facing more than one dilemma.

pragma masterlist

Frankie walked to the living room and sat on the couch, throwing his hat on the coffee table before covering his face with his hands and sighing. He looked down the hall as if he expected her to walk down it any minute.

What the hell was she doing here and why? His heart hadn’t beat normally since he saw her in the bar and now she was here in his fucking house. He told himself long ago that be would never forgive her for what she did, but he turned into a pile of mush as soon as she smiled at him.

Just like old times.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Things he hadn’t felt in so long came flooding back and he had no idea what to do with them. He kicked off his boots and laid down. When he slept, if he slept, he hoped it would help him see things clearer in the morning.

He woke to somewhat of a hangover and a stiff back on account of him sleeping on the damn couch.

“Damn,” he groaned as he stood and stretched before remembering that she was here. His gaze moved to the end of the hall and he quietly walked down to the last room. Then he lingered outside the door like he was afraid. After a few quick knocks, he pushed the door open and found her asleep, curled up holding a pillow.  

How the fuck does she manage to be beautiful even when she sleeps?

She stirred and he stiffened. He could see the confusion on her face as she took in her unfamiliar surroundings. She rolled over and her eyes widened when they found him.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah. Mornin'.” He sat on the end of the bed as she got herself together.

“Why am I here?” she asked through a yawn.

“You got shitfaced and needed to sleep it off. I would’ve taken you home but I don’t know your address.”

“Oh…okay. Thanks. My car here?” He nodded and she swung her feet off the bed and to the floor. “I feel horrible.”

“I’ll get you something,” he offered, standing quickly and walking to the bathroom. While he did that, she must have gotten herself moving because he found her in the living room looking at pictures. He handed her the pills and a glass of water.

“Thanks.” She handed the glass back when she was done and kept looking at pictures then she gasped and he thought something was wrong. “I can’t believe you kept this picture. Look at us.”

“You can have it if you want.”

“I have a better idea.” She pulled her phone out and snapped a picture of the photo. “There.”

“You were always the smart one,” he teased.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Frankie. You’re fucking brilliant, you know?” When she looked at him, he felt completely glued to his spot. She eventually looked away and picked up the hat he threw on the table last night. The smile on her face was one of nostalgia but then it fell. “I should go.”

“Oh. Do you think you can drop me off at the bar so I can get my truck?”

“Of course. Come on.”

*

“You still listen to the same shitty music, huh?” he asked as he skipped song after song in the car.

“My music is not shitty, you just don’t have the ear for it,” she jabbed playfully.

He scoffed and kept playing with the radio. “Why’d you get married?” he asked suddenly as she stopped at the light.

“Uh…I guess I thought I was in love. Felt like it was the right thing to do at the time. And why didn’t you get married?” she asked.

“Eh, I don’t think I’m the marrying type. I’ve had relationships, some serious, but it never went further than that.” He looked at her as she nodded and kept her eyes forward to drive. “Would you ever get married again?”

She pulled into the lot for the bar and turned off the car. “I don’t know. I won’t be able to if this man doesn’t sign the damn papers anyway.”

“Can’t you, I dunno, sign for him?” he asked.

“That’s illegal, soldier.”

“Alright fine. I was just trying to help.” He shrugged and opened the door. “So…your address.”

“Oh, right. Got anything I can write on?” She looked around then just grabbed his hand. “Forget it. Here.” She scribbled the address in his palm with a pen she found in the cupholder.

“You could’ve just asked to put it in my phone, you know?”

“Frankie…I didn’t know you had a phone." She sounded exasperated.

“I gave you my number last night or did you forget?” The smile on his face grew as he teased her.

“It could’ve been for a landline! How was I supposed to know?”

“You know what, maybe you aren’t the smart one after all.” He chuckled as she punched his arm.

“Get outta my car.” She shoved him and he stumbled out while still laughing. When he looked into the car again, she was grinning ear to ear.

“That smile…it still…” He stopped suddenly before he said something he might regret.

“It still what?”

He shook his head and looked down at his hand. “You live there?” he asked. “There’s a lake up there I like to-"

“Go fishing at. I know. You took me once…the morning after we-" She stopped herself and gripped the steering wheel.

And now you both had left words unsaid—words that held too much of the past in them. One day. One day they would talk about the past in detail, lay all the cards on the table, but today wasn’t that day.

“Thanks for the ride,” Frankie said leaning into the window.

“And thank you and Santiago for making sure I got somewhere safe last night. I appreciate it. It was so good seeing you two.” Her smile was genuine and bright. Even with slightly messy hair and tired eyes she was the most ethereal thing he had ever seen.

“We’ll see you again soon I hope.”

“You have my address,” she reminded him.

“And you have my number.”

“I do.”

“Use it, okay? Please.” He stood up straight then walked to his truck, missing her quiet ‘I will'. There was a reason he didn’t say goodbye. He was afraid to. He was afraid that if he said them again, he would have to go another five years without seeing her. Or has it been longer?

His phone rang as soon as she drove away and he got into his truck. He went for it excitedly only to see that it was Pope.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Are you still with her?” Pope asked and the smile in his voice could be heard by anyone.

“Just saw her off. Gimme a minute.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and snapped a photo of his hand before he forgot.

“Anything happen?” the other man asked.

“Was something supposed to happen?” Frankie started the truck then sat back. “Look, I like my women conscious and…unmarried.”

“She’s going through a divorce, Cat.”

“Yeah, but it ain’t official yet.” He backed out of the parking space and pulled onto the road.

“She could be your saving grace, Frankie. Don’t scare her away again.”  

“Scare her a—what the fuck, Pope?!” He was angry because, in reality, it was the truth. She wasn’t completely innocent, but he knew what her last straw had been. “She broke my heart. She left me.”

“And you remember why she left, don’t you?”  

“I got worse after she left. She could’ve stayed. She could’ve helped me.” He stopped when he realized just how selfish that sounded. “I’m coming by." He hung up and turned a little too fast down Pope’s street.

Pope met him outside and held up his hand as he got out of the car. “If you’re here to yell take it inside.”

Frankie slammed the truck door and stormed inside, turning to Santiago as soon as he closed the door. “Why are you bringing it up, man?”

“Because it needed to be brought up especially now that she’s back. Did you tell her?” Pope stood in front of him.

“…I’m fine. She doesn’t need to know. I’m functioning.”

“You know damn well that she can smell a problem a mile away. She’s gonna be able to look at you and figure it out. You never stopped after she left…”

“I never stopped because she left!” Frankie snapped. He laughed bitterly. “How the hell am I supposed to even bring it up? ‘Hey, welcome back. By the way, I’ve been charged with possession of cocaine’.”

“Cat…come on. Sit down.”

He sat and sighed loudly. “Don’t scare her away...man, if I tell her that I’m still using she might leave the fucking country this time.”

“The only reason she’d leave again is if you start blaming her for your problems. I get it, okay? Her leaving didn’t do you any good, but that’s not her problem, you understand? She didn’t put the drugs in your hand and say ‘hey, take this'.” Pope walked to his kitchen and came back with a glass of water. “Now, we don’t have to talk about this anymore if you don’t want.”

“I never realized how much I missed her, Pope. Last night when I carried her and she pressed her head to my chest…I can’t remember the last time I felt my heart beat that way.” He took a sip of water. “It’s so fucking cheesy.”

Pope laughed and patted his shoulder. “You still got it bad. It’s kinda cute.”

“Cállate,” Frankie said, giving Pope the finger.

“You gonna see her again?”

“Oh…” Frankie showed the other man his hand excitedly. “Address. Don’t worry I took a picture of it. You’re gonna come with me, right?”

“Why?”

“Because she said we should visit.” Frankie couldn’t fathom going up there by himself. Being alone with her that short time this morning already had him on edge.

“But we both know who she really came back to see.”

“What if she just came back to, you know, visit?” Pope made a face at that and Frankie shrugged. “If I go there, I’m not gonna have any idea what to say or do.”

“She still has that effect on you, huh?”

Frankie took his cap off and ran his hand through his hair before putting it back on. “You have no idea.” Suddenly his phone rang and he took it out his pocket then stared at it. It was a number he didn’t recognize.

“Uh, you gonna answer?” Pope asked.

“Hello?”

“Hey. It’s me.” Frankie nearly dropped the phone at the sound of her voice.

“Oh…h-hey. Everything okay?” He rolled his eyes at himself while Pope laughed then mouthed ‘is that her'. Frankie nodded.

“Everything’s fine. I was wondering if you guys wanted to come up for a late lunch kinda thing. Do some more catching up.” He could hear stuff clanging around in the background.

“You cooking?” he asked looking up at Pope who shook his head then whispered ‘it’s all you, hermano’.

“Yup. Can you guys make it?” she asked.

“Uh…I can. Santiago is busy today.” He immediately regretted telling her that because she became quiet.

“Okay. Just us then.”  

“Just us,” he repeated feeling his heart beating faster.

“Maybe we can walk down to the lake after,” she suggested.

“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that.”

“Is 3 good for you?” More noise in the background.

“Sure." His palms were sweaty. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Okay, see you then, Frankie. Bye.”

He hung up without saying goodbye and didn’t even realize it. He felt as though he was in a trance.

“Well, what are you sitting here for? Don’t you have a lunch date to get ready for?” Pope pointed out.

“It’s not a date, man.”

“Sure. Go home, shower, and try to find something a little nicer to put on. And lose the hat.”

Frankie stood and before walking to the door to leave, he looked at Pope. “She likes the hat.” With a shrug and the other man laughing, he walked out and got into his truck where he finally realized that he agreed to meet her at her house…alone.

*

At home, Frankie took a little extra care in his appearance though after thinking about it he realized it was stupid. She knew what he looked like. And still he took the time to wash his hair, find a t-shirt that wasn’t thrown on the floor, and find a pair of jeans that fit him a little better than the others. He even used the cologne that had been sitting in the same place, unused, for God knows how long. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he shook his head.

“What the hell, Cat?” he whispered. He picked at his scruff and thought about shaving it, but he remembered how she scratched at it and figured that was something else she liked so it wasn’t going anywhere. And the hat. It probably wasn’t the best idea to put hat on after washing his hair but it was his thing. Besides, it was the hat she got for him. He put it on right before walking out the door.

*

The drive to her place was right around forty-five minutes like she said. He still couldn’t believe she had been this close the entire time and near one of his favorite places to boot.

She must have heard him pull up because she came to the door to greet him before he had a chance to get out of the truck. He gave himself a quick once-over and popped a mint before getting out. After a deep breath he walked around the truck and greeted her.

Shit. Should he have brought something?

“Hey.” He lifted his hand awkwardly and she waved back.

“I’m so happy you could make it. Come on in.” She walked in and held the door open for him.

“Sorry I didn’t bring anything.” He put his hands in his pockets and she laughed. “What?”

“Nothing…it’s just the hands in the pockets thing…you’ve been doing that since forever.” She led him to the dining room where the food had already been set up. “And don’t apologize for not bringing anything. You’re here and that’s what I asked for, right?”

“Right. Oh.” He took off his hat and shoved it, bill first, into his back pocket. “This place is really nice,” he said looking around. “Your husband buy it?”

“My soon-to-be ex-husband didn’t buy a thing. This house is mine.” She walked to the kitchen and Frankie snuck a quick look at her. She still moved like she was floating on air and no matter what she wore it fit her perfectly. Today she had gone with a pair of black jeans and a tank top with a flannel thrown over it.  

She talked but he hardly heard her. He was too busy thinking about how if he had gotten his shit together, he could be living here with her, taking walks to his favorite lake every day.

“You okay, Frankie?” she asked, bringing him back to reality.

“Yeah.”  

Instead of sitting across from him, like they did in those movies with the fancy dining rooms like this one, she sat beside him and put her chin in her hand.

“I’d kill to know what you’re thinking about.”

“I’m proud of you,” he said. “You did really well for yourself.”

“Thanks. And what about you, Frankie?”

“Eh, I did the Army thing. Became a pilot. Nothing exciting.” He looked around but his gaze fell on her again. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” he asked. Suddenly, he felt self-conscious and had to keep himself from smoothing down his hair.

“I’m just remembering. That’s all.” She smiled then began passing him food. “Take as much as you want.” She watched him for a while before speaking again. “So…a pilot? I don’t know how the hell you do that.”

“What do you mean?” It was probably rude of him to talk with food in his mouth but she didn’t seem to mind.

“I terrified of flying,” she admitted, filling her plate so she could eat.

“You? You were never afraid of anything.”

“Oh yes I was. I was just really good at hiding it.” She giggled when he sipped the wine and made a face. “I got beer.”

“Please.” He watched her walk but told himself to stop and looked at his plate.

“Here. And here’s the-" She tried offering him the bottle opener but he had already opened it himself. “Okay then.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She had the brightest smile on her face so everything must be okay. “Are you gonna tell me how you’ve been?”

“Thought I did.” He sipped his beer but noticed that she was still looking at him. That’s when he knew she knew just like Pope said. “That’s not what I came to talk about…”

“Okay.” She began eating again. The silence stretched on and it was driving him crazy. He wanted to talk but what was he supposed to say.

“I couldn’t forget,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to forget.”

She looked at him sadly. “Happens to the best of us.”

That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting at all. He thought she would be screaming and waving her hands all over as she called him every name in the book. Instead she placed her hand on top of his and squeezed.

“You don’t need it, Frankie,” she said, “You never have.”

He never considered himself an emotional man but no one would blame him if he would have burst into tears at that moment.

“How’d you know?” he asked, voice on the verge of cracking.

“I notice everything…especially when it comes to the people I love.” Upon hearing that word, his head turned so quickly to her that he nearly gave himself whiplash. “Now, are we gonna take that walk to the lake?” She hopped up and walked to the door to put her shoes on.

“Um yeah.” Frankie shook his head slightly in order to focus.

*

He loved walks like this. It was quiet all except for the bugs and birds and…the sound of her voice. She talked about everything and he hung on every word.

When they reached the lake, she immediately kicked her shoes off and rolled the bottom of her jeans up so she could put her feet in.

Just like old times.

The way she sat back slightly with her hands on either side of her to balance as she kicked at the water to see how cold it was took him back. He remembered. The sun shined on her as she looked up at him.

“Cold,” she giggled and it made him smile. With an exaggerated groan he sat down beside her then pulled his boots and socks off. He dipped his feet in then pulled them away quickly. “Told you.” He eventually got used to it and let his feet dangle in the water. She was like his fountain of youth because every time he was around her, she made him feel young again.

He closed his eyes and remembered. And she opened her eyes and looked at him. His eyes opened only when he felt her pinky finger touch his. He looked down at their hands then at her. She had closed her eyes again but he could tell by the little smirk on her face that she knew. He moved his hand a little more so that he could slightly lace his fingers with hers.

It’s funny how the simplest touch can cause the most complex feelings—feelings that he had sworn he buried deep inside of him somewhere. It was a complicated thing trying to be angry at her because in that moment all was forgotten and forgiven.

[three]

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