#better. but i should try painting more in the future to get a better grasp of it :)

[cockworkangels]

thank you for the idea to paint eileen @caught-a-dragonfly :)

#thank you for the suggestion this was such a fun challenge for me! also i hope it's okay that i tagged you :) #i neeeed to practise painting more this made me realise i really have no idea how to do anything i'm always just winging it #i've had this in my drafts for like a month and i wasn't happy with it i tried to fix it a little today and i think it got a little bit #better. but i should try painting more in the future to get a better grasp of it :) #sorry for putting so much ramblings in the tags lol #spn #supernatural #eileen leahy #spn fanart #eileen leahy fanart #my art #digital art #art practice

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: don't ask me why I did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You keep to yourself. That’s the safest, the easiest way to live. You keep your head down, your eyes to yourself, your voice bottled up. 

You grip your phone as you approach the coffee shop. You stand on your toes to see through the painted windows and frown at the long queue. You won’t have to worry about that. Like everything else social, you’ve found a work around. 

You look at your phone, the app showing your order as ‘preparing’. It should be done shortly as the progress bar fills close to complete. You can bear the claustrophobia for a minute or so until it’s ready. 

You go to open the door but an arm reaches past you and does that first. You step back, patiently waiting for the other customer to precede you. They don’t move. You stare at their shoes. Dark blue velvet loafers with gold emblems on chains.  

“Go on, baby face, I got it,” the man’s voice makes your skin crawl. 

You shrink down and give a nod, throat clenching as you struggle to find your voice. You’re not much for conversation but you’re but impolite. 

“Thanks,” you force out without raising your head. 

You scurry through quickly, a bit to close to the stranger than you like, and you clasp your phone against your chest as you stand just away from the cluster of people awaiting their orders. You bounce on your feet as the noises join together to form a cacophony; the hissing steam, the clanging metal, the clinking porcelain, the calls of the workers behind the counter, and the buzz of the crowd seated or standing around the cafe. Sweat gathers on the nape of your neck as the chaos swirls a storm around you. 

You pull your phone away from the front of your pullover and check the screen. Should be ready any moment and you’ll be free of the circus. You adjust your grip on the phone, almost jittery as another customer joins the wait at the pick up window. 

You breathe out. It’s not usually this busy at this time. You have a routine. You can handle the expected. You order on your phone so you don’t need to talk to anyone. You wait outside until it’s almost done then come in too quickly claim your prize. But not today, something’s different and it’s throwing everything off. 

It’s only on Wednesday’s that you venture down to the cafe. It’s the halfway point of your week so you mark it with a taste of motivation. The same order every week. A London fog latte. Simple and affordable. Nothing fancy, nothing complicated. 

Your name cuts through the din, “...medium London fog.” 

You drop your arm to your side and set your shoulders. You march forward through the parting bodies ahead of you and reach for the cup. Before you can grasp it, someone else scoops it up. You nearly cry out in horror. Someone’s stealing your order! 

You turn to the tea thief but they make no move to flee. They hold the cup nonchalantly, turning it to read the sticker on the side, reciting the same name that just rose from the barista’s lips seconds ago. You face the stranger but again, your eyes are downward.

The blue loafers! 

“Cute name,” he comments as he holds the cup out. 

You once more try to take the cup but before you can, he has it out of reach again. Your lashes flick and your fingers twiddle helplessly. His large hand is firmly around the cup so even if you did try to wrestle it from him, you doubt you’d have any hope but to spill it all. 

You look around but no one else seems to notice. They’re all staring at their phones or talking with the person next to them. The staff behind the counter are too busy appeasing the rush of orders. 

“I’ve never tried one of these,” he taunts, “I’m more of a ristretto guy. Like my espresso.” 

You shake your head and rescind your hand, balling it against your fist. What does he want? Why is he bothering you? You said thank you. Did he not hear you? 

“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy,” he pushes the tea towards you, “there you are, sweat pea.” 

You hesitate. You slowly unfurl your fingers and reach for the cup. As you wrap your fingers around it, you can’t help but brush his. Thick and strong and unmoving. He clings to it for just a moment before he lets you have it. 

“Thanks,” you squeak again, this time louder so he certainly hears you. 

“You got a sweet voice,” he puts his hand on his hip, a glimpse of a shiny gold watch face peeking out from beneath his sleeve, “I’d love to hear more of it.” 

Your eyes round as you focus on the zipper of his thin jacket. You shake your head and meekly raise your cup awkwardly and dip your chin slightly. No thanks. 

You turn and weave your way back through the crowd. Your heart is thumping in your chest. What an odd encounter. 

More so, you’re dismayed that he saw you. That he noticed you. For years, you’ve done your best to be invisible. You prefer it that way. You don’t even think your neighbours know you exist. But that man, he seemed to see nothing but you. 

You push outside and nearly drop your cup. You try to steady yourself. You’re all knotted up and tense. You tuck your phone into your back pocket and bring the cup before you nose, inhaling the sweet scent of the foam. Something about it isn’t as soothing as usual. 

You turn down the pavement and wince as a sole scuffs close behind you. Suddenly, another set of steps walk next to yours, measured to keep in tandem with your own short legs. Blue velvet.  

You walk faster. Is he following you? Why? What does he want? He’s much taller, you can’t outpace him. 

“You know, when I said I’d like to hear more, I thought maybe over a coffee?” He suggests. 

You don’t say a word as you keep your eyes forward, squeezing your cup tight as you try not to swish it around too much. You’ve never had to deal with this before. Men don’t see you. There was a time you hated that but since, you were grateful for that. 

“I mean, I could do most of the talking, never had much of a trouble with that, jellybean,” he offers. 

You shake your head. Your throat tightens. You can’t speak. You want to scream but you can’t make a noise. 

As you get to the corner, you stop short. He steps past you but just as quickly catches himself and turns to face you. You gulp and look down at your cup. You can’t keep going. If you do, you’ll lead him right to your home. 

“What’s going on, sweetheart? You forget something? How about we head back and I’ll buy you something sugary to go with that?” 

You furrow your brow and step back on your heel. You bring your eyes up, a furtive glance at his face, brief and flickering. You just want to know what he looks like so you never see him again. 

His blue eyes twinkle, his nose is long but proportioned to his chiseled face, his hair is combed back, the sides shaved, and a thick swatch of hair lines his upper lip. He’s older than you, you know that much, but you’ve never good at gauging age. You’ve never seen him before but you can’t be sure. You don’t look at many faces. 

You pivot and cross the street without looking. You narrowly miss a bumper and get a honk in remonstrance. You can’t stop yourself. You’re panicking. You head down the next street as his footsteps follow. It’s all you can hear.  

As you pass a bin, you dump the drink. You don’t pause as it plummets heavily into the trash and you fall into a brisk half-jog. You pump your arms, puffing wildly, dizzy as you search for a saviour.  

You dash into the library. You don’t know what you’re looking for. Just for anyone to get this man to leave you alone. 

You don’t look back as you enter and head straight for the front counter. You’re out of breath as you approach the rounded edge and tap the bell frantically. A woman emerges from behind the window wall and she greets you with a confused chime. 

“Hello, can I help you?” She asks. 

“Yes, I need...” you gulp and glance at the doors. You push away from the counter and spin, searching. You don’t see the man. He’s probably waiting outside. But you never looked back. You never really saw if he was following. “I...” you turn back to the woman, “never mind.” 

You cross your arms and turn away. You cringe as you realise how ridiculous you must have seemed. Worse, you didn’t mean to bother someone just doing their job and over what? You’re own issues. You should go home, back to your reclusion, where you can’t be in anyone’s way. 

👄

When you finally muster the courage to leave the library, your journey home is slowed by your paranoia. You have your phone out, held up so you can see over your shoulder with the front camera. You watch the screen more than the sidewalk ahead of you. 

You get home without a second shadow. As you let yourself through the grated front door of the building, you can’t help but feel stupid. That man must’ve got the idea when you as good as ran in the other direction. You’re being dramatic. 

You close the camera and put your phone away. You waist six dollars in your frantic flight. You mourn the tea latte as the heavy inner door clunks shut behind you. You drag your feet up the stairs as your keys jingle on your finger. 

You apartment is at the very end of the hall. You enter and twist the latch. You slide the chain into place and hang the key ring on the little hook beside the door frame. You untangle your purse and leave it with your phone on the table in the corner. 

You shuffle the few feet to the front room and look around. You find comfort in the familiarity of your little apartment. Your hideaway. 

You go back to your desk and sign back in. You’re back later than usual but you can still make up the time. As long as there’s enough tasks left in the portal. You don’t have to let that man ruin your whole day. You’ll never see him again. In a few days, you won’t even remember him. 

👄

Wednesday. Halfway through the week.  

You scroll and click around your screen as you watch the clock in the corner tick on. Usually around this time, you’d be excited. You’d clock out for your break and go down to the cafe. As much as you looked forward to the treat, the walk alone was relaxing in its own way. 

Not that day. Despite your efforts to shrug off the strange encounter, you haven’t shaken it. So instead, the kettle boils as a bag of earl gray sits in an empty mug. You’re not going. Maybe next week. 

You’re a bit depressed but you’re too nervous to make the venture. Oh well, you’ll save a bit of money. You could find a different place next time. That might be easier. 

You stay logged in and claim a new task. Hey, you can be done work earlier if you can power through. You might even make a few extra bucks. 

The kettle clicks and you get up to pour the water. You leave it to steep, forgetting it for the screen before you. Your fingers tap endlessly across the keyboard, filling the silence as you zone in on the words, transcribing messy ink to Times New Roman. 

Your trance is broken by a sudden buzz. You sit up, the kink in your neck pangs. You need to stop hunching. The buzz comes again. Is that... It must be a mistake. It happens now and then, someone buzzes the wrong apartment. 

You get up as it sounds a third time and you shuffle down to the speaker box. You hit the button, “wrong number.” 

“No--” 

You let go of the number before you can hear the response. They buzz again. You sigh. You hit the button. 

“I’m sorry but you have the wrong number,” you repeat. 

“I don--” 

You release the button again and take a step back. Buzz! You’re getting annoyed. You hit the button. “Wrong--” 

“Got a delivery. 212.” The man’s voice drowns out your own, reciting your name after your apartment number. Your finger stays on the button as you frown. A delivery? 

“I’m not expecting a delivery.” 

“Are you...” he says your name again. 

“... yes.” 

Silence, filled with the low hum of the speaker, “so, can I come up or...?” 

“Uh, I guess.” 

You pull your finger away and hover it over the other. Maybe it’s from work? There was the one time they sent a cheap mass production travel mug with their logo on it as some incentive. A poor attempt at employee appreciation. 

You press down and hold until you’re certain they have enough time to get in. You wait by the door, ringing your hands. You hear the door at the end of the hall open on its old hinges and you peek through the peephole. 

You watch the fuzzy figure come into focus with each of his long steps. He doesn’t hold a box nor wear the uniform of a postal worker. No, he wears those blue leather loafers and holds a bright pink paper cup with a white lid. From the cafe.  

As he comes close, you get a pigeon’s eye view of the hair on his upper lip and his bold blue eyes. It feels like he can see you too as he stands smirking on the other side of the door. This can’t be real. 

He knocks and you wince as the door shifts in the frame. 

“Special delivery,” he calls through, “open up, baby face.” 

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #the quiet ones #dark!fic #series #the gray man

[hotreadingwitch]

MADE TO LIE - the confession

Content Warnings/Kinks: praise kink, dominance, hickeys, scratching, cum swallowing/cum play, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected vaginal sex

BUCKY 

Bucky woke up to find the sun streaming in through the large, paned hotel window. Taking in a sleepy breath, he could barely believe how well this mission had worked out for him in the end. Though he’d almost been caught the night before, almost being forced to return to his life as the Winter Soldier, he’d also found someone who he valued as more than just a colleague or a teammate. The smile that painted his face when he turned over to see Y/n still sleeping, hair spread around her on the pillow in a messy halo and his shirt buttoned up over her frame, was both wide and pure. Last night, she’d insisted on wearing the oversized item, ignoring the fact that it looked more like a short dress on her than a shirt. He’d given in, of course, wanting her to have every comfort that she desired, especially with the complex pain he knew she must be feeling after the confrontation with the Cranes and her father. 

It took him just 10 minutes to get two coffees from a sweet barista at the cafe below the hotel and return to their suite. When he got back, Y/n was still asleep, likely exhausted. He placed the coffees on the bedside table before sitting on the edge, beside Y/n’s slumbering form. 

“Doll,” he woke her, with a gentle hand on her shoulder, his voice quiet and comforting. 

She swatted at him, her hand sharp and fast as a bullet but one that he dodged easily, mumbling grumpily, “Bucky…” 

“You’ve got to get up eventually doll, why not now?” 

“I never pegged you as a morning person” she smiled then, a small but genuine grin. 

A tense silence formed quickly in the echo of her words as her smile faltered, the events of the night before playing out in both their minds. 

“I think we should talk…” Bucky started. 

“About?” 

“Y/n…” 

“About what, Bucky?” she raised a shaky eyebrow, her calm mask cracking. 

Bucky sighed before pushing through, “About what your father sai—” 

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Y/n hesitated, interrupting before letting out a low whisper, “Talking about it will ruin everything Bucky, he ruins everything” 

He came towards her, his gaze soft, “Please doll, hear me out…If we decided to continue whatever this is I think you might be the best thing that could ever happen to me” Her sleepy eyes turned up to look at him hopefully, the sight practically breaking his heart as he pushed himself to continue, “…But I’d probably be the worst thing that could happen to you” 

“You’re wrong, you know that?” she whispered back bravely, “I’ve been through the worst already, there’s nothing you could do that could break me now…I want you Bucky, please” 

“That’s not exactly good Y/n” he sighed, frustrated but still speaking calmly, sadly, “You’ve been through so much that if I ruined your entire life you wouldn’t even blink an eye. That’s—that’s toxic. I don’t want to be the next thing that hurts you” 

“You won’t be” she stated plainly. 

“I’m not fully—“ he paused, “There’s still work I have to do before I’m good…what if I make a mistake that causes you more pain?”

“Then you’ll learn” 

He ran an exasperated hand through his cropped hair, grasping at straws, “I still have nightmares—what happens if you’re in my bed and I kill you in my sleep?”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take” she replied strongly, “Listen, I can’t picture my future without you anymore…everybody needs somebody Bucky and you’re my somebody”

“But what if I—”

“I know Bucky, I know, okay? Do you think I don’t get what it’s like to make mistakes? To have done bad things? To have regrets?” she said, trying her best to keep her voice calm despite her jumping heart rate. She took his calloused hands in her own, and he let her, “I know what it’s like to be afraid of yourself, believe me. But we can do it together, learn how to be better together…I’m willing Bucky, you just have to trust me” 

He squeezed her hands with his own, searching her eyes, for what, even he didn’t know. 

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to be the man that you need, that you deserve, and that I’ll give my all to you and it still won’t be enough. I don’t want this to end in heartbreak.” His eyes softened, misty, yet without any tears falling like he was trying to keep himself together and failing miserably. That ball in his stomach was rolling around, wreaking havoc. And yet, Y/n’s words were making the feeling calmer by the second, making him feel like he could reach for what he wanted without fear for the first time. 

“It’s always going to be a risk” 

“I haven’t taken many of those in my life, not really, but all the brave people I know have. Steve. Sam. Natasha. You…” He paused, brushing her cheek gently with his knuckle. “You have, you’re so brave Y/n, more brave than you could ever know.” 

“It’s always going to be a risk Bucky” she repeated quietly, her words striking him at his core. 

“I’ve lived a long and loveless life Y/n,” he rasped with a wet chuckle, continuing even when she opened her mouth to interrupt, “No, listen, please. Yes, I’ve had good friends and good family but never…love, not like this. I don’t want to give up on us doll—So maybe I can be brave for you if you let me, and we’ll be alright?” 

“We will be, I know it” She leaned toward him, hesitating before planting a gentle kiss on his stubbly cheekbone. 

“How?” he huffed with a small smile, having already admitted defeat. 

“I just do” she kissed his cheek again, “I just do…” 

Y/N 

His lips touched her forehead in one intimate motion before he trailed down to her mouth, capturing her in a kiss that she’d likely never forget. 

Her hands traced down from the sturdy contour of his jaw to his neck to his chest to his arms, metal and flesh, barely able to keep her hands off of him. His gaze pierced her before he tucked his lips to the crook of her neck, making her groan at the sensation. There was heat between them, sure, a heat that was quickly growing from a small flame into a full, blazing fire but it was the warmth in Bucky’s eyes, the unabashed trust, and the grounding feeling she gained from each kiss, that truly made her feel red-hot. 

She pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side before he began to unbutton his own shirt that she was still wearing from the night before. The cool air hit her nipples, making them peak. They kissed and kissed and kissed, Y/n reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck as they did, groaning into his mouth. When she finally pulled back, her eyes scanned over his body, taking his armour off piece by imaginary piece. It felt good—being vulnerable with him, touching him—so good that she felt the full-bodied sense of love settling deep in her bones. 

“Please don’t make me wait any longer” she begged, her hands grazing the band of his pants as she sat down on the bed’s edge, him towering over her. 

“The coffees are going to go cold…” he hesitated with a shy smirk. 

“I don’t care” she breathed as Bucky sunk to his knees. 

She spread her legs instinctively, needing his mouth on her more than she needed anything. In that moment, she thought she’d take a single orgasm from him over her own happiness, though, she had a feeling that he’d never leave her without either, pleasure or joy, ever again. 

“Please” her whimpered plea was desperate yet unashamed. 

When he connected his mouth to her it sent a sharp feeling instantly through her body, one that went straight to her clit. 

“Fuck” she gasped, immediately gripping her hands in his short hair. 

He kissed the sensitive area, looking up at her, “That feel good doll?” 

She ground her hips upward, arching to meet his soft lips. 

“Yes—shit—yes, it feels so good Bucky”

He chuckled darkly before reconnecting to her, his tongue sweeping over her wet hole before moving up toward her clit. He used his strong fingers to part her lips, spreading them so that he had better access to the sensitive area. He started slow, licking at her languidly, making her breath hitch and her hips buck upward restlessly. But Y/n’s low whines and her tight grip on his hair made him go faster and faster as if he couldn’t resist giving her the pleasure she craved until his tongue was moving so quickly back and forth it was a blur across her clit. 

“I can’t get over how good you taste doll—fuck” he groaned as he lapped lower with his tongue, teasing her needy hole before returning to her clit. 

She arched again, shivering at the way the slight change in angle made the feeling of his licking at her clit even more intense. 

“I can’t take—fuck—please Bucky, I need you in me now”

Removing his mouth from her, he took his fingers and caressed her sopping hole. Holding it up to the light, he groaned at the sight of her wetness. Y/n looked down, gulping as she noticed the hard, strained bulge waiting in his pants. Her eyes widened even more then, pupils blown with pure desire, as he brought her slick to his lips, tasting her without shame. “You really do taste so good” he chuckled, smiling handsomely when the comment made her flush.

His fingers returned to her hole, gently moving them around and around without once pushing into her. His small smile was dangerous. 

“You’re ready to take it doll?” he questioned, kissing her inner thigh as he teased her.

She shivered in response, whining his name, “Bucky…” 

“I asked you a question” he glared from below, his dominance taking over, “Don’t make me ask you again”

“Yes” she rushed her response, “I want it, please Bucky, I need to feel you inside me” 

He praised her skin with his mouth, tracing sloppy kisses down her neck to the space between her breasts before finally removing his pants and positioning himself in front of her. Her legs wrapped around him as she balanced her ass on the edge of the massive bed.

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes—God, Bucky if you don’t—“ 

Her words fell off in an instant as he slid the first half of himself into her. She’d somehow forgotten just how big he was, letting out a hiss and a loud moan at the immediate feelings of pleasure. 

“You’re so fucking tight around me doll” he spat out, his voice a low growl.

He was only halfway in her and still, she clenched around him desperately, needing more, more, more. 

“Deeper, deeper please” she begged.

With a huff he pushed deep into her until he was fully seated inside, her walls squeezing around him. 

“F—fuck” he growled, his breathing heavy as he started to thrust.

The feeling of his full length slamming into her was overwhelming, to say the least. It was heat and tension and desperation and adoration all mixed together. She rocked her hips along with his in perfect rhythm, moving completely in sync with him. Her breath hitched as he ground into her, placing his hands, both flesh and metal on her hips. The more she arched the better he felt inside her like he was reaching parts of her that she didn’t even know were there.

“Hold on…” he commanded, his voice dark as he thrust and thrust, “Hold onto me doll—fuck”

She reached her hands around him, scratching them down his back, making him growl. He pushed further into her, the weight of him between her legs made them spread even wider. She arched, groaning as he returned his lips to her neck, sucking, leaving a trail of marks behind, marks that declared she was his. 

“Bucky” she moaned, lost to the haze of the pleasure, “I need—“ 

In an instant his fingers were on her clit sliding back and forth across her wet pussy, beginning to please her just how he knew she liked it. His thrusts were harsh and full of need, hers as much as his. Her gaze flitted upward, startling at the pure desire that was reflected in his eyes. It felt good to be pleasured, to be worshipped by him. 

“From the moment my lips touched your body—fuck—from the moment I met you” he whispered with reverence, planting kisses down the length of her neck, “I’ve known you were the one”

“I—Bucky,” she cried out, her words interrupted by her moans. 

“Tell me doll, let me hear it,” he groaned, eyes fiery. 

“I feel the same way…about you” she whimpered, feeling her release coming closer and closer Her hands grazed over his body, over his arms—one cool metal under her fingertips and the other truly warmer than the sun, “You’ve always been the one for me” 

Bucky thrust down into her as his fingers fiercely rubbed over her clit, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, all while kissing her neck, her jaw, and her forehead. 

“Bucky” she moaned, her breathing laboured. 

“I can feel you cumming” he strained, brushing a stray hair from her face in one intimate swipe, “so fucking tight—such a good girl for me”

She tensed before the sensitivity ricocheted through her entire being, making her chest and legs shake beneath him as he gripped her waist while the other hand played with her clit. As she came it felt like dying, an intense, body-rocking death that was quickly followed by the most glorious of rebirths. Bucky came just after her and Y/n held his shoulders as he did, supporting him like he had held her, his deep, breathy moans tickling her ear. 

“Fuck, fuck” he groaned before collapsing beside her. 

She straddled him then, easing on top of him, mindful of his still slick cock throbbing below her, leaning forward to kiss him. His strong hands ran up the length of her back, practically cradling her as he kissed her back. 

“Thank you” she whispered, feeling fully satiated and hopeful for their future.

“Thank you, doll” he kissed her cheek. Pushing her hair back again out of her face, properly gazing at her with love and affection, both their hearts feeling full. 

Bucky and Y/n’s relationship was delicate. One wrong move could cause disaster but it seemed that neither of them really cared anymore. They both knew well then that everything is always a risk. They knew too that love, true love, was one worth taking. 

A/N - This is the last chapter of this mini-series/novella!! Thank you all for so much love with this, I'll be forever grateful that the chapters have been so well-received here and on Wattpad. The epilogue chapter will be on Christmas Day or the day after!

requested account tags: cjand10 identity2212 bucky-jbb-sunshine unaxv hnnhbananananana @differenttyphoonwerewolf

#fanfiction #fanfic #marvel smut #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfiction #bucky smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #smut

[little-diable]

The Ghost of Christmas Future – Loki

Part 3 of my Christmas series! A big thank you to @writingliv for writing this with me, I love working with you! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Loki is visited by the Ghost of Christmas Future and he shows the god something that forces him to find his way back to his past lover.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), some angst, mentions death

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader (2.2k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

Series Masterlist

An almost grim expression tugged on the god’s features, fuelled by the annoyance he felt, by the uneasiness radiating off him. Loki paced his quarters, eyes trying to focus on his book, desperate to distract himself from his mother’s Yule preparations. If there was one thing he detested, it was these celebrations, festive days reminding him of people and stories he needed to forget.

The mere thought of being dragged down memory lane by his heavy heart and his aching mind left the god of mischief groaning, he was better than that, he was better than all these pathetic humans that gave into their emotions. With an angry growl rumbling through him, the book Loki had been holding was tossed to his bed, slender fingers combing through his black hair.

This is why he had let her go. This is why he had pushed her away. This is why he needed to get away from her and the pitiful excuse of a life she lived.

Her. The one his heart had been rather fond of, the woman who had managed to lure the god into her trap. It had been easy, too easy, but who was he to deny a challenge. Loki would always win, no matter the game, no matter the rules – at least that’s what he had always believed, till (y/n) had stumbled into his life.

She had managed to bewitch him within seconds, pulling the man into her grasp before either one of them could understand what was happening. It had happened years ago, years where he had snuck away from Asgard with one of his many tricks, finding joy in the simplicity of Midgard. It had been his own fault, he should have stayed away from there, should have listened to the warnings, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and then suddenly it had been too late.

Loki could still feel her pressed against his body, he could still hear her soft voice murmuring his name, calling him back to bed. Memories he needed to get rid of, fast. He was better than that. He was stronger than that. He was smarter than that. He hadn’t been born to live a simple life, he was a god, made for more. 

But sometimes, just sometimes, he found himself giving into these memories, lingering on the thoughts that painted her features, allowing him to pick up on the sound of her loud laughter, allowing him to feel her soft skin beneath his cold fingertips. It was torture, pure torture, and yet the feeling had a bittersweet touch to it. An almost addictive pain.

He plopped down on his bed, eyes focused on the expensive looking ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut in hopes of getting rid of his memories, a useless try that only pulled him further down the rabbit hole. His teeth grazed his lower lip, about to draw blood, about to sink into the flesh she had kissed many moons ago. 

Before he could try to sleep away his memories, wanting to dream of a better life, of an exciting future, he heard his name being called, eyes snapping open. His heart was pounding, beating against his ribcage as he looked at the unfamiliar being standing near his bed. 

Loki had seen many ominous creatures in his life, but none looked like this. The spirit seemed to levitate above the ground, only its cloak gracing the marble floor. No face was visible as a grey hood loomed a shadow over any possible features, emanating a freezing chill that ran down the god’s back.

Loki shot up, his hand immediately searching the knife he kept by his bed. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” He asked, ignoring the way his breath had suddenly condensed in front of his lips. 

“Silly prince, who am I, you ask?” The voice spoke, letting neither its gender nor species be revealed. 

“How dare y-” Loki sneered at the creature until it approached him, forcing him to hold his breath. 

“I do not have the time for your scandals, prince. I am here to show you something. Follow me,” the creature turned, hitting Loki with its cloak that felt just like a thicker blow of air. It didn’t turn around to check if the god was following; instead, it walked out of the room and sped its pace. Loki had barely the time to react, following the creature as quickly as it could. 

“Where are we going?” The god asked, short of breath as they made their way out of the castle. The halls were empty, it seemed like everyone had disappeared from existence. The ghost did not answer. Instead, it switched directions, almost causing Loki to trip. 

“Where are we going? I demand to know,” Loki doubled down as he regained his balance, jogging to catch up the lost distance. 

The ghost suddenly stopped, turning back to the god for a glance before looking forward again, nothing more than the deep dark forest standing in front of them. “We are late. A funeral.”

“Wh-” Loki tried to ask, confused. Funeral? Whose funeral? He didn’t know anyone that had died recently. His question, however, died in his throat as fog covered the previously dark forest, acting as a canvas where an image started to form. 

Flowers, dozens upon dozens of vases and bouquets filled to the brim with tulips. Midgardian flowers. Loki frowned. His stomach turned. What? He continued to watch the image develop right before his eyes as rows of people filled a snowy cemetery. Cries and moans filled the empty winter air suddenly, far too familiar yet strange for him to point out. 

“Why are you showing me this?” He finally broke the silence, his voice cracking under the pressure in his chest. 

“How long do midgardians tend to live, prince?” The voice replied, still staring at the image upon them.

“A century? I-” Loki’s head felt as if it was spinning, every Midgardian he had ever met running through his mind. A thought tried to form, but he suppressed it. No. She was maybe thirty by now. She couldn’t-

“If they are healthy. If nothing happens,” The voice doubled down in a dreamy tone. His thoughts were seemingly elsewhere. “Weren’t you the one that loved to underscore their fragility?”

“I-” Loki tried to speak, but his lungs burned, his eyes trying their best to focus on the details of the image upon him, ignoring the sobbing cries. 

“Wasn’t she particularly careless?” The ghost finally spoke, and Loki felt his knees buckle. no. 

It couldn’t be. He would have found out. He would have known. They would have told him… but how? How? If he had left without telling anyone, simply kissing her on the forehead like he had done every other morning and walking out, never to be seen again? Why would they tell him even if they could? He had done nothing but hurt her. 

No. 

Loki shook his head. 

„You’re lying to me, why are you doing this? Who are you?” One question after another rolled off Loki’s tongue, filling the silence he found himself engulfed by. But the ghost didn’t reply, he kept watching the scene in front of them play out. 

Loki had to stop himself from vomiting, unable to stop the bile from rising up in his throat. This had been his wrong doing, his selfishness that had lured him away from her, her, the one his head had grown fond of.

There wasn’t a day where he didn’t think of her, of (y/n), the love he hadn’t got to feel in many moons. The dark voice inside his head had promised him that he was destined for more, made for something by far bigger than what she could offer. 

How wrong he had been. How foolish he had been.

“I understand, I do. But please, take me away from here.” The ghost turned back towards Loki, staring him down for a few seconds, watching the tears roll down his cheeks, before the scene finally vanished. Loki’s head was spinning, eyes struggling to focus on something as the ghost kept speaking.

“It’s on you to decide, but remember, the time she has is limited, don’t let any more of it go to waste.” And with one last exhale, the ghost was gone, leaving Loki trapped in nothing but an uncomfortable darkness flooding through his room. 

……

„Loki? What am I doing here? Where am I?“ A relieved sigh left Loki as he stared down at her, taking in the features he had last seen in one of his nightmares. His heart was still aching, racing in his chest at the mere thought of ever losing her to Death’s cold grasp.

“You’re in Asgard, I had to see you.” She had been forcefully awoken from her dream, unable to pierce together what was happening as she was dragged away from her home. And yet she hadn’t protested, not speaking up as a wave of familiar comfortableness had flushed through her.

“You kidnap me, because you have to see me? Is that all?” (Y/n) had always been good at seeing through his lies, eyes not letting go of his as she slowly reached out to cup his cheek. Sparks shot down Loki’s back at the familiar touch, oh how he had secretly longed to feel her close once again. 

“You were dead, I saw it, saw your dead body.” Confusion tugged on her features, not understanding what the god was speaking. He shook his head to try and get rid of the pictures flushing through his mind once again. “It was in the future, far from now, and yet I couldn’t stand myself for letting you go. I needed to see you, prove myself that you’re still alive.”

“Oh, Loki.” He dipped his head down, lips ghosting over hers. No longer did he want to share any meaningless words, no, he wanted to feel her close, wanted to touch the body he had once known like the back of his hand. The kiss was fuelled by their still burning love, tying the two closer together as he pushed her against his best, crawling on top of (y/n). 

He could hear her heart racing, could feel her gasps leaving her. Sounds that left him grinning in mischief. His hands started wandering, long fingers that knew their way down to her heat, the place where she ached for him. The moment had something almost unreal to it, like a dream, a faded memory, Loki couldn’t help but wonder if yet another ghost was playing a trick on him, but her sounds were too strong, too honest. 

“I damned you for a long time, cursed your name. But yet my body has never not been yours, forever connected with you.” Another kiss was pressed against her lips as his fingers disappeared inside her sweats, teasing the thin fabric of her panties. She has soaked through the fabric, dripping for him, him only. 

Within seconds he had her undressed, fabrics finding their way to the ground as he let go of her. Their eyes held contact, allowing her to watch him settle between her thighs, lips kissing their way to her cunt. Soft moans left her, one hand finding his locks as the other tightened its grip on the blanket she was laying on. 

“My pretty flower, I missed your taste, I missed your sweet sounds, oh how I missed you.” His tongue brushed through her folds, moaning at her taste as (y/n) arched her back off the mattress. Loki ate her out like a starving man, feasting from her with groans clawing through the two in unison. 

For months they had dreamt of moments like this, never willingly admitting to it, even though they were caught by them, unable to escape. His arms found their way around her thighs, keeping her close as he dipped his tongue into her tightness, thumb circling her pulsing bundle. 

She was a shuddering mess, made for the God’s eyes, for his hands, and his tongue. She was his, in all her glory. And deep down Loki couldn’t help but promise to her, and to himself, that she’d never leave his side again.

His name rolled off her tongue, like a dark secret spoken in the depth of the night, like a prayer made to save her damned soul. A sound that left Loki groaning in satisfaction, adding more speed to the movements of his tongue and fingers. She was close, he could tell, and all he was focused on was making her cum on his tongue.

(Y/n) tightened her grip on his locks, eyes squeezed shut to give into the quiet call of her name. She came with a loud gasp, head thrown back, teeth buried in her lower lip. Loki watched her unfold, kept fucking her with his tongue through her high, before he slowly let go of her.

The god crawled up her body, lips meeting hers to allow (y/n) to taste herself before he plopped down next to her, pulling her into his chest. And with another kiss pressed to her forehead he tightened his grip on her, promising to hold her close till the end of her time.

#Loki smut #little-diable christmas23 #Loki x reader #Loki imagine #marvel smut

[504py]

He, with those piercing eyes, gaze up at you from beneath.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

You haven't seen grass in almost a month now.

It was near impossible to find windows or doors that led to the outside in the ever-changing architecture of his palace. Hallways, winding like the arteries and veins in his heart. Walls creaking and compressing like lungs, and a never-ending fireplace burbling and roaring like a stomach. The palace seemed to be alive, and he was intent on keeping you within it.

Today was different, though. That feeling of constant movement stopped, and in this eerie, uncomfortable stillness, a door creaks, and you feel cold hair brush against your cheek. You expect to see him there, used to him seemingly appearing out of thin air, but you're greeted by empty space. Goosebumps scatter all over the surface of your skin. Your head turns to follow wherever the source of the noise was, and, in all of its literal absurdity, a door is there. It sounds ridiculous, but it was the last thing you expected to see. Your hands have gone clammy and damp.

You felt very bare. Like a million eyes were watching you, to see if you would act on the appearance of an exit. You freeze, and for a few moments, you think about what to do. But with each passing second, it felt like the palace was getting more and more suffocating, more and more intent on trying to constrict you. You finalized with the thought that it'd be better to push your luck instead of staying here, with these walls that wanted to cage you in.

As you grasped the uncomfortably warm door handle, you wondered where he was... Was he behind you, watching every action? You turned to check. Nothing. Could he be studying at the library? Still asleep in his bedroom? It's possible he was in some new room in the palace you didn't even know about yet. You almost expected him to lunge at you the moment you were to open this door.

You decide you'd be as good as a prisoner forever if you were to ignore this chance, so you turn the knob, and push the wooden door open.

The flood of sunlight makes your eyes sting, but you can't help but smile. It's warm, you can smell wet dirt, and it feels like you're home again. It's been such a long time.

You blink the ache away, and as your vision clears and settles, you can make out a large, swath of green under a clear, blue sky. A large tree stands out dramatically against the otherwise plain field, and beneath it, laying on the lush carpet of greenery, was him.

You can see the grass once more. The wind is howling in your ears.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

hey! this is a series i decided to start which is based off of a dream i had, which was basically howl's moving castle, but in a slavic setting and he's creepy LOL. the way this will work is, i'll post a painting with a short piece of writing underneath, and with each post (however, not in chronological order, so it's up to you guys to put it together, hoho..), more and more of the story between you and him will be unraveled!

this first part was pretty tame, but for reference to future parts, he is a yandere, so heed all the warnings associated with that LMAO. i wanted to start posting more original work (though i feel like i should state that this is very heavily based off of hmc, so you could see this as an au i guess LOL), and just try to find people who like the stuff that i myself create.

updates will be inconsistent, so fan speculation is encouraged to fill in the gaps LMAO. anyways, i hope you guys will like this!!

#Вой who cried wolf #Voy who cried wolf #oc #original character #artists on tumblr #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere #yandere art #🫧 #🛁 #howl's moving castle #yandere x reader #oc x reader

[lilspacewolfie]

CRASHES IN. Devil!Terzo x Copia (Or Omega) for 4, 5, 11, and/or 12 !!

Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss

I gotcha buddy! I combined 11/12 at the end by the way. Sadly, I didn't get a chance to write Omega as I had these scenes instantly pop into my head. Maybe in the future, the beloved ghoul can get some love from his Lord! I hope you like them regardless <3

Content: 1.1k words, Devil!Terzo x Copia, NSFW, MDNI, copia suffers from migraines, a lot of softness here, very soft and sweet, sexual content, playful flirting, teasing, oral, love-making, lots of forehead and temple kisses, truly those are my weakness, grief & loss of a pet at the end, minor death if that bothers you. but it's not described in detail, smut!

4… where it hurts.

The headache has been thrumming in his temples for what feels like hours, shifting throughout his skull and infecting every inch. He should rest, but he can't when he has papers to sign off on and autographs that need to be ready. 

Hunched forwards over his desk, leaning on his palm with his fingers covering his eyes, Copia feels the pressure shift in the room. It’s like a window being open, letting in a warm breeze that encircles him in its heat. It sends tingles all the way down his neck, rising goosebumps along his flesh beneath his cassock. 

The pressure of gentle fingers settles over his shoulders. He feels two bare thumbs pressing in, starting to massage carefully at the back of his neck. He winces slightly and sits up, eyes closed as he sinks back into his office chair. 

“You are in no fit state to be working, topolino,” Lucifer speaks softly by his ears. 

“It needs to be done, sua Maestà,” Copia can’t help the way he shivers when Lucifer drops a kiss below his ear, applying a bit more pressure at his nape. It feels so good Copia has to bite down a moan. 

“Well, as your God, I am ordering you to take a break.”

Copia huffs a breath of laughter through his nose, chest light and relaxed. He lets the feeling overtake him, guiding him into its gentle lull. His pen falls from his grasp and opens his eyes when he feels the chair move. Lucifer spins him around, away from the desk towards Him. 

The hands leave him, and when Terzo comes into view His painted face is excruciatingly soft. His mismatched eyes roam over Copia’s features as if trying to discern how best to handle the situation. Then, Lucifer leans forward and braces on the arms of the chair, cupping Copia’s cheek with one hand. 

“It’s only a headache, amore. I’m used to it.” 

“That does not mean I have to like it, caro.” 

Copia leans into the warmth of Terzo’s warm, bare palm and sighs, curling his fingers around His wrist. He closes his eyes again when Lucifer dips in and presses a kiss to his greying temple, slow and lingering. He drags his lips up, over to the opposite side and does the same. Copia’s heart flutters, and he draws in a deep calming breath as Lucifer presses a final, firmer kiss to the centre of his forehead. Amusingly, the headache dampens. He gently squeezes Lucifer’s wrist.

“That’s cheating,” Copia laughs in a hushed whisper, eyes blinking open when Lucifer pulls back a bit. “And I’m going to have paint all over me…”

“But it feels better, no?” Terzo tips His head, stroking His thumb over Copia’s sideburn and the top of his cheek. 

”Sì,” he can't argue with that, “it does. Grazie, sua Maestà.”

He watches the way Terzo’s mouth pulls up a touch at the left corner, His mismatched eyes lowering. He leans in again, pressing another kiss to Copia’s forehead.

5… where it doesn’t hurt. 

“A-Amore,” Copia pants, fingers curled tight into the bedsheets. “Don’t tease me.”

His half-lidded eyes are fixated on Terzo, naked, flushed and lying on his belly between his parted thighs. He pets his fingers over Copia’s bare skin, the shimmer of His illuminated gold gaze catches against the candles that flicker from the bedside. Lucifer’s room around them is dark, everything beyond the bed falling away until it’s only the two of them left in the universe.

“I thought we agreed that you had to wait, topolino, hm?”

A shudder breaks through Copia and he tears a hand from being twisted in the bedding, reaching out to stroke through Terzo’s silky, raven hair. Lucifer snakes a hand up the grain of his thighs, carefully curling his fingers to cradle beneath the head of his sensitive cock. 

“Mio re—“ Copia arches, hissing a breathy swear. His fingers in His hair grip tight and tug, needing Him closer. 

He shudders when Lucifer’s lush, swollen mouth meets the plump head of his cock, gliding wetly down the shaft and back up, mouthing the pre that beads at the tip. The sight almost makes Copia cum right there. 

You taste exquisite, Lucifer’s words fill his mind while His mouth is occupied.  

Pleasure races lightning hot up Copia’s spine, and he surprises himself when he laughs, breathless. 

The wanton desire of need and adoration never hurt so good.

11… in joy / 12… in grief. 

Another little life gone, another one of his beloved rats buried beneath the oak tree. Each one gone, but never forgotten. 

Copia can’t crowd any closer. He’s tried, but the physical restraints of his body don’t allow him to crawl inside Lucifer’s mortal form. As much as he wishes he could, all he can do is cling to Lucifer and sob. 

Lucifer holds him tight in His arms, stroking his hair and back as the brush of His plush lips speak whispered words against his temple.  

“You will be able to see them again, amore,” Lucifer tells him, fingers caressing the base of his neck, letting a calming swaying motion move them. “This is not the end for them. They may have left this mortal life, but they are not truly gone.”

Despite the little flicker of hope and the small spark of joy that comes with it—because yes, Copia can. He knows he can and will see all his beloved little creatures again… it still feels like ice freezing in his chest. 

“I—I hate that it hurts so much,” Copia whimpers, breath hitching as he clings tighter to Lucifer. He nuzzles closer, burying his face into Terzo’s throat against the winter chill that makes him shiver. Lucifer is his sun, warming against the cold despair.  

“I know,” Lucifer says, kissing his forehead. “I know. I wish it did not have to. I wish I could take this pain from you.”

Copia sniffles, hiccuping before he manages to speak again. 

“You… you always used to tell me that… having emotions is what makes us human. Even when it hurts.”

Lucifer lets out a soft huff of a breath, nuzzling against Copia’s greying temple.  

“And it is true. And that is why I love you, all of you. Despite how much it hurts. You know they are safe with me.”

Copia nods, swallowing another choked sob. Slowly he gets himself under control, quietening to little more than soft sniffles and heavy breaths that make his chest ache. 

When he eventually leans back enough to look at Him, Lucifer meets him, gloved palm tender against his cheek. 

“Grazie, cuore mio.”

Lucifer smiles, eyes full of affection. He meets Copia halfway when he presses closer, leaning down to press a soft kiss against the Cardinal’s mouth.

masterlist ⛧ Ao3

#ghost #the band ghost #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #terzo #papa emeritus iii #copiiia #devil terzo tag #devil!terzo #Terzo Is The Devil #canon x canon #cardinal copia x papa emeritus iii #alternate universes

[art-estrange]

A Man After My Own Art (AMAMOA)

Prologue: Insert Pun Here

Professor!Pedro Pascal x Teaching Assistant!Reader

*DO NOT REPOST*

the idea is ultimatly mine however i do not own the concept/the person that is Pedro Pascal and major warning because this an AU he will be a littl OCC

Words: 642

Story Warnings: MDNI 18+ (mostly in the off chance that I choose to explore heavy themes later on. This will obviously be updated at a later time because this is my first fic and so far I only have this prologue and the first chapter fleshed out) Crocs(yes that has a warning, i’m kind of obsessed with wearing crocs and currently own 2 pairs hopefully more in the future)

Story Content Tags (most of this is mentioned in later chapters.): Meet-Cute, First person perspective, Age-gap(F28/late 20s x M40/early 40s/late 30s), Art references, new york nonsense written by a non-new yorker, spanish/spanglish, Lots of college technical talk, this was kinda based off a dream, crocs, College AU, AU where pedro isn't an actor/famous, slightly proofread… sorry for typos i'm trying guys😭😭😭

Story Summary: You (the reader) have moved to New York enrolled in NYU’s Graduate program, a dream you thought you’d never achieve in an apartment you thought you’d never have. Fate works in funny ways sometimes and you might find love in an unexpected place. You might not.

New York City, the big apple, the big easy, the city that never sleeps… and my new home. I moved from my, frankly, boring home in a shitty town, to the bustling sleepless chaos that is New York City, specifically Manhattan, for the job of my dreams. I've been working hard and have failed countless times trying to become an art professor for years now and finally after having flunked undergrad several times, racked up debt up to my ears, paid off all that debt, and saved up for my dream apartment, I’m finally a grad student. Bachelor's degree here I come! I stood in my studio loft, reminiscing about all the frustrating times I suffered through trying to make it while sitting in unnecessary classes like government and science because who REALLY needs that? Not an art major like me that's for sure!

I was uncomfortably reminded of the sweat dripping down my brow, boxes of my life surrounding me, “I better continue unpacking”. Its strange; a person's entire life can be packed away in a single box and not just any box… a series of boxes actually, old amazon boxes to be specific, a jarring reminder of the grasp capitalism has on me but who can blame me, I NEEDED the knick-knacks that originally came in those boxes, I DESERVED the little drinky-drinks that I can’t find in stores that only amazon sells.

 I walk around and stop at the large windows facing the city, people down on the street going about their fast-paced lives with no clue that they’re being watched, like fish in a tank. I run my hand against the exposed brick of the living room wall, my crocs squeaking on the polished concrete flooring, I’ve finally made it. I can just imagine myself laying upon my couch when it gets delivered, the sun beaming in through the windows as I curl up in its warm glow much like a cat does. The thought of enjoying my time in my new home fills me with not only hope but a boost of serotonin. With all the commotion of moving and the excitement of being somewhere new, I forget that I haven’t eaten all day. Grumble Grumble My stomach echoes through the not yet furnished apartment “I think i should go get food.” 

I break in the new shower, bust out the new towels and get ready to head out, struggling in the maze of boxes that is my new home. On the street, I weave through bodies getting home from the midday rush, speed walking new yorkers with their own stories and lives intertwining for just the second we pass each other on the street. The warm oranges and vibrant lavenders and pinks painting the sky much like oils do a canvas. Life truly does imitate art…at least that's how I think the saying goes.

 I stumble across a food truck selling gyros and order my lunch…dinner?? Is it really lunch anymore if it's 6pm? Right as I'm getting out of line I walk into a wall, landing straight on my ass. “Are you ok?” spoke the wall in a soft voice, concern laced in its tone. I look up into soft brown eyes, slightly stunned. That WASN'T a wall. “Uhh..” I stammer and stutter as tan skin, fluffy bed swept hair, and large square framed glasses stare down at me waiting for a semblance of a response. “Number 45!!” 45…. My food! I scramble to get up, slightly bumping into the handsome stranger. “Sorry!” I yell out at him as I jog up to the counter and essentially run away with my tail tucked between my legs, sort of speak. As I walk home, I look back, the stranger's face seared into my mind. Hopefully I see him again, but knowing this city I probably won't.

A/N: I hope you guys like this i read it myself and was like "this is passible" LMAO sadly dont have anyone to test read before i post so if theres typos or grammar issues, i do apologize. If you are interested in getting tagged feel free to comment below. Just a heads up this is just a silly little fic with no set direction and now set date on when I'll be posting howevr because i have the majority of chapter 1 written I will be posting it in about a week or so. -Emery, Out!

#x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #art professor! pedro x reader #art professor! pedro x ta!reader #professor! pedro pascal #professor!pedro x reader #professor!pedro #professor x student #professor x ta #professor crush #Meet-cute #ta!reader #Latin!reader #Hispanic!Reader #Based off a dream #AU #Professor AU #Age-gap #crocs #MDNI #18+ #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #AMAMOA

[lansplaining]

However I also think NHS was right. Revenge is not necessarily the best choice, but. He was very much getting revenge for a wrong that was done that did Not need to be done. Good for him.

Official Ranking of the Necessity of Murders in MDZS/CQL, from Most to Least:

Wei Wuxian killing Wang Lingjiao . Completely justified and necessary. She was so rude, and for what. Yes, she lacked any power of her own, but she should have thought twice before acting as a representative for the bad guys.

Nie Huaisang aiding and abetting Mo Xuanyu's suicide. Mo Xuanyu wanted to revenge-murder his whole family, Nie Huaisang was actually doing everyone a favor and preventing future problems down the line.

Xue Yang killing A-Qing. Snitches get stitches.

Wen Chao trying to kill Mianmian. For all Mianmian's posturing later on about like being morally better than the rest of the cultivation world or whatever, she really didn't seem to grasp the concept of sacrifices for the greater good. Maybe if she'd just shut up and let them use her as bait, everyone else could have gotten out of the cave safely.

Jiang Cheng killing and torturing every demonic cultivator. Jiang Cheng holding every demonic cultivator responsible by proxy for Yanli's death, which was DEFINITELY a wrong that did Not need to happen. However, he loses credit a little bit of credit because he's painting with a pretty broad brush. What if one of them had accidentally been a good guy?

Wen Zhuliu killing Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan. His boss made him do it, and while obviously people are completely responsible for their actions at all times and external pressures should not be taken into account, I need a little more explanation of his Mysterious Past with Yu Ziyuan before I can be totally sure his actions were justified. For example, was she a bitch to him in the past (probably)? Then it's okay.

Nie Mingjue killing Wen Xu. I mean. Sure. Wen Xu's father killed Nie Mingjue's father, so it makes sense that Nie Mingjue sort of displaces the revenge generationally. But then he keeps going after Wen Ruohan, which is like... dude, you got your revenge murder. You're getting demanding here.

Wei Wuxian killing Wen Chao. Hmmm. I'm just like... I get why Wei Wuxian thinks it's justified. But what did Wen Chao really do to him? Isn't he just kind of a figurehead for his dad? Like, he's pretty stupid and inept. Was he really a threat?

Wei Wuxian killing Xue Yang. We're getting into really outrageous territory here. Like what did Xue Yang ever do to Wei Wuxian personally? It's not like any of the juniors in Yi City even died, and he literally only met A-Qing and Song Lan that day. How much could he actually care? Seems like a big old Not Your Problem, Wei Ying, and he should have just left it alone.

Jin Guangyao killing Nie Mingjue. No respect for their shared past, no respect for the fact that Nie Mingjue was only violent and angry because of the sabre spirit which isn't even his fault, no respect for the way Nie Mingjue just wanted to help him be a better person. Sorry, but if he was that scared that Nie Mingjue was actually going to hurt him, maybe he should have told the police or something.

well i've run the numbers anon and looks like you're spot on

#ask answered #sorry this one feels a little mean but #i just don't understand how you can look at this and see a story about justice

[aakristinejoyce]

#3 beginning of an end

life is a matter of perspective.

I was 16, my life was falling apart in a non teenage drama way. I was graduating high school, and life should be a full speed ahead with possibilities. It was a silent dream to study where my mom graduated college. UE, University of the East, that’s what I’m aiming for. BSED major in History, AB History those are my dream courses. To be far away from home, that’s the goal. To have something else than this little hometown. To be somewhere more than what I used to know. The idea of getting away gives me a sense of euphoria. Maybe if I’m away, I can be seen and heard because ever since then I knew I am better off loving people in a safe distance.

But life’s what you make it, not what it makes you. You can wake up one day and watch how a drive downtown can be your first real shock of how “everything is just okay last night”. Then everything that used to matter started slipping out of your grasped. In just a snapped, a whole new world opened, one whose welcoming your agony. Filing for college registrations turned into filing for SSS benefits, PCSO donations. Countless of sleepless nights studying turned into anxious battles. Running away from home turned into coming home lonelier each night. No one knew what we are going through cause I have no idea how to voice it out. So I kept silent. The loud cheers and painted smiles got me through. I had my own battle to conquer, I’m trying to redeem myself. I worked harder than my three years combined just to get to the top. The moment I made it, I had been slammed by how much little I’ve fought for, that there’s more coming. A lot of things matter, but at that moment, she’s the only one I continously beg God to matter the most.

“Take half of my life and give it to her, and I promise to do everything I can with my remaining half to make sure she knew and felt how much I love her.” Everyday, every night, every prayer, always these same words.

7 months were all it took when she breathed her last breath. 3 times I bid good bye, 3 times I felt myself dying in pain. Around 7PM of Oct 29th, 2013 we fully lost her. At the start of that year, I was sure, I’ll be good, that it is gonna be good. I am starting to build the foundation of my future, the vision of who and what I wanted to become. It was for grasped, it was right there waving. The dream school, the faraway fantasy, the dream course, the ticket waiting. All I wanted was to succeed, but after everything, wanting starts to fade and the need starts to profess. I need her to survive. I only need her to get through. But she didn’t, and that was the greatest loss that change the course of my life forever. We lost and for awhile, I didn’t know if winning after will meant anything anymore.

I lost my sense of time. I never became early with anything in my life after that. I’m always trying to beat the clock. I count minutes, I calculate time and not move until the final second drops. I never got bitter that I lost her, but life became a living hell after. I can never understood why it had to happen that early. Why is she not allowed to beat the clock? I hate being early, because now, I have to wait a lifetime to be with her again.

I got into a college with a course I never fully liked, in a place where I wanted to run off my whole life. I stayed in a hometown where all the hospitals remind me of her, surrounded by people that were once part of her life, where streets and alleyways relives yesterday’s memories. I stayed and watched how everyone manage to break the glass and continue with their life. While me, I had no idea how to brush off grief and pick myself up. She died and I feel like I did too. So there I was, pretending that life was coursing through me, when the truth was, the concept of future stops for me.

A conference. An exposition. A prayer in tongues. It was my first encounter with the Lord through the gift of tongues that opened other gifts for me. The gift of perception, seeing things through His eyes. After that prayer, the world didn’t change, but I did. My agony didn’t change, but a part of me understood. That was the first time I saw grief as love. More importantly, that was the moment I knew that life is a gift - unmeritted, unfavored, undeserved but still given.

“Thank you for the 7 months.” those were the words that ended my prayer. Going home after that conference, I kept on asking myself, when did something so broken became so beautiful? When did agony turned into something graceful? When did my pain became so purposeful? Where did all these beauty extracted from? Cause I was sure, it wasn’t from me. It was from Him. He showed me that a flower surviving from a desert isn’t just a flower thriving greatly, it is a miracle. It shouldn’t be existing, but it did. 7 months with her is a miracle, but what He made me realize through that prayer, is everday I’m choosing to live after she died is a miracle too. It was that conversation with the Lord that changes what matters after.

Life after ~ became a promise to honor her memory. It became a personal mission to honor beauty in all things, and if possible be a glimpse of His beauty in a world that forgets. Life is a matter of perspective. We could either run from the pain or get to know why it’s there. I’ll bet my life, the reason behind it, is because it matters so much. It took me quite some time to embrace the fact that I will always mourn for a life I can never have anymore. It is with a change heart I started to believe that life can still be more, that it can still be full. Dreams can change, convictions can sharpen, beliefs can ignite, more importantly life can still run its course even if you stumble many times. A kid in you, or a once you failed to reach its goal but it doesn’t mean the you today doesn’t have a chance.

Life is a matter of perspective doesn’t mean turning the bad things into something meaningful, it’s not about finding the inspiration in the most uneventful part of life, it’s not really about looking at things with a silver lining. For me what I learned from it is knowing that whether it is good or bad that comes my way, it will never lessen the love I had felt from above. Good things don’t happen to people because their good, bad things don’t happen because people are bad. Life happens. Living takes a toll, it takes a baggage. In all life’s glory, all you can do is just give the best of your ability, your heart and your strength to your chosen cause and purpose. Whatever life throws back at you, you can be at peace with the thought that you have done all that you can to honor the life you have been given.

In my brokenness, I started to see my scars as an opening for light to come through. The wounds are healed, yet the scars remain. It is a reminder of the hell I went through yet also a reminder of how much heaven had fought for me.

For me, what makes Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” affirming is before Apostle Paul said these powerful words, he first said, “I know what is to be in need, and what it is to have plenty. Whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want… I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me”. I am never deserving of anything, yet I am still given a life to live. I matter. In the vastness of this world, looking up into the horizon, whether I have nothing today and everything yesterday, I am grateful to experience and feel all of this ruin and wonder. It gives me strength to face life head strong for He had breathed a new heart and purpose within me. I have found myself being sure of who I am. A strength that doesn’t come from my own, but of a love that came down and made every little thing in this world matter.

If all door closes, the windows are still open. You might shrink or bent or be in pieces to fit, but in the end, the other side of it had always been life changing.

#llh

[twofacedtrickery]

Keep It Copacetic [Delta Janus Playlist]

I don’t want this on my personal so I’m posting it directly on here but enjoy it!

God Damn Liar - Get Scared

And now you hate me I can see through your eyes I feel the same way You had the guts to take me by surprise

No Plan B - Manafest

It's too late, it's my fate, I can't turn around There's no fear in the mirror to hold me down I'm too far from the start, now I'm in too deep I've got to stick to the plan ('Cause there's no plan B) 

The Future - From Ashes to New

It's the last time that I ask why I'm overlooked and I'm passed by You can't grasp my shit, that's fine Can't see the truth through glass eyes You're half-blind; in fact, I'm On my way to the back nine

Make Everything OK - From Ashes to New

Torn apart and took for granted We demand it, then panic When it doesn't go the way we planned it Damn it, we need a bandage

Heretic - Black Moon Howl

But curiosity got the better of my valor’s judgment And forbidden books offered up the tattered page with unholy gleam 

Not Over Til We Say So - Blue Stahli

It keeps us here and knows our fear Our kindred divider So stand up to the past we knew We'll scream through the wires

Not Afraid to Die - Written by Wolves

I'll be the loaded gun The only one That I will ever need And when my time is done The battle's won Will you remember me? 

Obsession - InnerPartySystem

What is your satisfaction? I'll give you all you need What do I have to do to make you want to fall in love with me? Fall in love with me

Die Tonight Live Forever - InnerPartySystem

If we all should die tonight, we will have no regrets

Lost In Time - Celldweller

I feel lost in time But if I wait for direction my lifetime will pass me by I feel lost in time I think if live for forever this feeling will never die

CIA - New Politics

In my house I break the law, break the law In my house I'm like the CIA 

Control - Halsey

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

Control - Poe

All those things that you taught me to fear I've got them in my garden now And your not welcome here 

Take Over Control - Afrojack

I think it is time I let you know Take all of me, I will devote

Partners In Crime - Set It Off

This, the tale of, reckless love Living a life of crime on the run I brush to a gun to paint these states Green and red 

Soft Touch/Raw Nerve - Depeche Mode

Am I on the right track? Have I picked a bad time?

Long Time Lie - Depeche Mode

And don't you ever look in the mirror Don't you know there's so much more Locked up inside that box behind your door

Everywhere I Go (Kings and Queens) - New Politics

I got prior offensives You know this life it can be hectic

Stop a Bullet - Black Light Burns

It's pretty hard to admit It makes me feel like shit But I mean it And I know that I'm wrong

Thank God I’m Not You - Himalayas

I'm such a sinner Yeah have been since birth Have an adrenal full of lust But I could be so much worse

Criminals - MS MR

You're a crook, I'm a thief You're the heart, I'm the beat We're a mess but we try We're alive, we can hardly breathe I can't leave

#character information #({open to suggestions for more songs})

[comfortscripts]

Hi <3

Could you do how each Marauder would kiss you for the first time? Like the confidence levels for each would be soooo different I think and just the way they'd go about it, idk but yeah

First Kiss ¬ Marauders

Of course! Honestly, I have so many thoughts but....

Also for this, I just did James, Sirius and Remus but I am willing to do other Marauder era characters (including girls) in the future.

James Potter

"Honestly James, it's embarrassing at this point. Just admit I'm the better keeper"

This had been going on for years. Both of you claiming to be the best keeper in Hogwarts, neither willing to submit. Some say it's rivalry, some say it's unresolved sexual tension but whatever it was, you and James loved it.

"Let's make this interesting, shall we?" The Gryffindor retorted with a smirk. "Whoever saves more goals during practice wins and that's the end of it."

"Okay, deal Potter but if I win, you have to stand up in the Great Hall and announce that I'm the best. Got it?"

You see the flash of fear run across his face before he responds with his same cocky smile, "And when I win, I want a kiss."

Before you could make some form of objection through your flushed cheeks, James was already in the air and prepping for the friendly competition.

You were both on fire. The pitch replicated a professional practice rather than a school-sports one but for every one he saved, you saved two. Whilst you did sometimes long to feel the Gryffindor's lips against your own, the idea of him praising you so publicly was too good to give up. And it seemed like the push worked, you won.

Landing back on solid ground, the two sweaty keepers reunited. James' couldn't even be upset at his loss when he saw your face. Pride beaming through your smile as your flushed cheeks framed it and your skin glistened. You were magnificent.

"Good game, I guess you really are the best" Offering his hand out for good sportsmanship hand shake.

Grabbing his hand and closing the space between you, now chest to chest. "I think you deserve a consolation prize for your efforts today, Potter."

The collision of your lips against his was more thrilling than any quidditch match. Pent up tension releasing in waves as you feel the bespectacled boy get over his initial shock and lean into the kiss. Lips melding and moving together, all whilst allowing your hands to grip his broad shoulders. Pulling away to regain your breath, you look up at the flustered boy as he too, steadied his breathing.

"Well, I think in some ways we both won" Joked the red and gold keeper. Causing you to giggle at his cheesy flirts.

"I guess so but you still have to do the announcement. Maybe you should wear my house colours for effec-" Before you could complete your sentence, his lips were back on yours. Not that you minded.

Sirius Black

Hogwarts was a soothing place in general but nothing could beat the astronomy tower. The atmosphere, the fresh crisp air and the silence meant that it was almost the perfect way to escape. And tonight, that's what two young Gryffindors needed.

Leaning against the brick tower, you let out a sigh of relief. Worries and fears washing from your bones as the stars shimmered in the sky and your best friend blew a puff of smoke.

"You what's crazy, the stars have seen everything. Love, happiness, life but also pain, suffering and death. Yet they still shine so brightly, it's inspiring."

Sirius was never a stranger to profound thoughts, especially on these late night excursions but this shook you. Pushing off the cold wall, you shuffle towards the dark-haired boy before sitting shoulder to shoulder and admiring the stars alongside him.

"You're right. I guess that's why you are named after a star."

You knew how much pain the boy had bundled up within himself but still, he could outshine any star in the galaxy. He had endured more pain than he could ever deserve but still managed to light up people's lives and make people feel more love than most.

Sirius swore his heart stopped at your words. His brain was telling him that it was obviously you hearing him wrong or a joke, he managed to choke out a small "What do you mean?"

Turning to look at the oblivious boy, you could almost chuckle at his adorable furrowed eyebrows and quirked smile but instead, you offered the truth.

"Sirius, you are a star. You have been through so much that I couldn't even begin to imagine but every day, you get up and make the most of life. Bringing smiles to peoples' faces, making all of us laugh with your pranks, loving your friends and protecting us no matter what. You are the impressive one and honestly, those stars pale in comparison to you."

Gazing into his eyes, you saw emotions swirling through his stormy orbs. Processing your words and conjuring up a reaction but nothing seemed right. How could he respond to you? His love for you already threated to spill out every time your eyes met but now, he worried that opening his mouth would release his confession.

As yours eyes stayed locked onto one another, neither of you noticed your bodies unknowingly leaning towards each other. Sirius notices your eyes flicker down to his lips, this was all the confirmation he needed before leaning in and meeting your supple lips.

The love that radiated off the two of you was more powerful than any spell you had learnt. Feeling the warmth spread through your being as Sirius deepened the kiss, trying to get closer. His arms wrapped around your waist as he drank in your sweet lips. You felt all the hidden emotions, all the pain and sadness of the night drift away into the distant sky.

All that mattered was you had Sirius and he had you.

Pulling away only to find yourselves lovingly embracing the other, protecting your bubble of happiness just a while longer. Sirius always knew that you made him shine brighter but now, he felt that he could outshine the stars.

Remus Lupin

Rainy evenings were always your favourite. But tonight was perfect.

James, Sirius and Peter were off pulling a prank on some unsuspecting 2nd year Ravenclaws, whilst you and your long-term crush were huddled up in the common room with two muggle books and two steaming cups of hot chocolate. You had no idea how the lanky wizard looked so comfortable on the sofa but you weren't complaining as you felt your knee bump his every once and awhile, sparks erupting at the physical contact.

Diving into the pages of the latest muggle book Lily gifted you, becoming so lost within the words that you didn't notice the chocolate moustache you had left after your previous gulp. The rich chocolate liquid which formed a frame over your plump lips caught the attention of Remus, who had be sneaking longing glances at you all night.

Your book induced trance was broken by Remus' hearty chuckle, a sound that you could listen to on repeat. Breaking away from the words, you looked up to find the werewolf already looking at you with an amused look painting his handsome face.

Immediately becoming conscious of the fact that the amusing thing was you, you released a small whine, "Remusss, why are you laughing at me".

"You have a bit of, well. You have a hot chocolate moustache"

Eyes widening in embarrassment, you quickly attempt to wipe away any chocolatey remnants with your sleeve before presenting your face back to the taller boy and asking, "all gone?"

Scooting over so he was looming over your figure, hand resting on your knee to steady himself. Remus reached up to gently wipe away the remaining flecks of chocolate that settle in the corners of your lip, allowing his thumb to caress the outline of your bottom lip.

The moment seemed to last forever, with the both of your eyes locking together as the young Gryffindor cautiously traced the outline of your jaw before entangling his hand within your hair, bringing your lips together.

The overwhelming sense of emotion accompanied by the rich lingering taste of chocolate engulfed the both of you as you leant into the kiss, resting hands on his shoulders. Remus raised his hand to grasp your hip and slowly move you closer toward his embrace.

You always thought that your first kiss with the werewolf would be more passionate and spark filled but no, this felt like home. This felt like you had fallen into his arms and discovered you belonged.

Breaking away, you stared into his amber orbs. Looking for any sign of regret or fear but you found that his eyes were filled with adoration and love, matching the very same look you held for him.

Giggling as the now giddy Gryffindor pressed a flurry of light kisses on your plumped lips, you knew that this would beat any love-story in any muggle book because this, this was perfection.

#sirius black x reader #harry potter #harry potter fandom imagine #mauraders #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #sirius black imagine #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #the mauraders #marauders drabble #remus lupin drabble #james potter drabble #sirius black drabble #drabble #ask response #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin

[aizawaskittenwhore]

𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦.

𝘧𝘵. 𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶, 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰, 𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪 (+𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴), 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘸𝘢.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 18+ 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵. 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴: 1.5𝘬

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘰𝘺𝘴/𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢, 𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺/𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 18. 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵, 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘪 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴. 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺. 𝘮𝘸𝘢𝘩.

“man, fuck you, the horse you rode in on, and your weak ass dick! just leave me the fuck alone.” you spit, arms crossed as you shoot the man in front of you a glare hot like jet fuel.

𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶:

izuku midoriya is one of the sweetest people to grace the earth

there’s no doubt about it.

but know he is not afraid to put yo ass in a fucking headlock and pound his way into you, voice thick and raspy as he asks you just who the fuck you think you’re talking to.

he’s grown up quite a bit since high school

and refuses to get bitched by anyone, especially his own girlfriend.

a saccharine smile inches across peony pink lips, spreading over porcelain teeth

“you uh... you wanna repeat that, honey?”

you know you’ve made a mistake

he’s got that look in his eye, ravenous and wicked

“look...izuku, baby, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to snap like that—“

“that’s not what i asked. i asked you...if you wanna repeat that.”

would definitely strap your ankles to a spreader bar, reveling in the way you continue to writhe against it

only to cry out in desperation once you realize that the more you struggle, the wider your legs go

or he’ll make you cry as you struggle to form a coherent apology, words choppy from the the remote controlled vibe is sending shockwaves through your heavily sensitive clit

he’d kneel above you, smile wide and innocent as he turns it up to the second most powerful setting, hard-on growing at the sight of your head lolling back while you try to appease him with sorry after sorry

“i-izuku—fuck, fuck! mmh— it’s too much....please, please, ‘m sorry! i didn’t mean it, ’m too sensitive—please just let me make it up to you baby—“

“all you gotta do is say the magic words sweetheart, and i’ll give you what you need.”

yeah, he’s one of those motherfuckers.

“remind me who’s pussy this is, and this’ll all be over with.”

“god, fine!! it’s yours okay! nobody else’s..now please, please fuck me izuku, i need you—“

doesn’t hold back for a second when he’s staking his claim all over your body, a calloused thumb roving over your clit gently, mindful of your sensitivity but edging you closer and closer to a fifth orgasm

happily smears strings of thick, sticky cum all over your stomach to mark you as his

and doesn’t hesitate to lick it off the supple, soft skin of your torso, the milky white substance congealing with transparent slippery saliva

he grasps your face firmly, fingers pushing your cheeks inwards and causing your spit slicked lips to jut out in a pretty little pout

“open.” he mutters before dripping the salty concoction onto your awaiting tongue, a throaty groan rumbling in his chest as he watches you happily swallow every last drop

“good girl.”

the aftercare is immaculate, izuku taking his time to wipe you clean so tenderly, lips pressing against each and every bruise, your body pliant as he whispers sweet reassurances into your sweat soaked skin

“much better now, right?”

you nod, eyes heavy as you sink into the warmth of his chest, hands clinging to him like he could disappear at any moment

“happy i could help you relieve some of that tension honey.”

“but talk to me like that again, and i promise you that’ll be the last time you call anything about me weak, especially how i fuck you. got it?”

prepare to be not only throughly sore the next day, but to have to conceal fingerprint shaped bruises on your hips and thighs

takes pictures of your fucked out face to have for future incidents where you decide you wanna talk like you have zero home training

and isn’t afraid to flash katsuki one or two whenever he gets to talking about how he could take you from him.

𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰:

“so that’s how you wanna act, hm? if you needed some dick you should’ve just fuckin’ said so instead of always runnin’ your damn mouth.”

he whirls you around, pelvis pressing into the small of your back, rivulets of sweat beading at the base of your neck from his close proximity

he’s such a glutton for putting little bitches like you in their place.

blade sharp canines dragging against the curve of your neck, pathetic attempts to maintain your resolve falling from unsteady lips

“the hell’s wrong with you—you already know i’m with izuku...i’m not doing this shit to him again—”

but you were already gone when his lips slotted against yours, body throbbing at the contact

now izuku was a good lover, a giver, a pleaser at heart

always putting your enjoyment above his

but eventually one grows tired of slick tongues and curved fingers, pretty whines and gentle kisses

you wanted “fuck you”s, spit flying along sick expletives hurled at your bowed, desperate figure, sweet sticky semen coating your throat after it was abused and stroked as though you were a piece of plastic.

and as luck may have it, katsuki was more than willing to provide.

yet today you’d had enough, his subtle touches when you passed one another had garnered izuku’s attention; you’d reassured the male that it was nothing to bother with, that the two of you were just coworkers.

at least when his balls aren’t in your slutty fucking mouth, thick bubbled spit dripping onto your home screen as you text izuku that you’ll be home late for “stir-friday” once again.

the best sex was on days like today, when you got just a little too reckless at the mouth

when you needed a not so gentle reminder of who’s leaving you breathless all hours of the night

takes his time with you, fingers teeming with a slight brine as they’re sloppily thrust into your mouth with a “shut the fuck up talking to me like you don’t know who the fuck i am.”

degradation? baby, you’ve met the man.

“wanna act like a bitch, that’s fine. just don’t complain when i leave you limping like one, got it?”

you’re shoved atop a desk, it’s contents forgotten as katsuki latches onto a tit and proceeds to leave mark after mark, striving to rid any trace of your lover

panties tugged to the side, fingerpads waltzing up the length of your—no, his pussy

kisses down your sternum and the plush skin of your stomach, flipping you opposite him before snaking his tongue between your southernmost lips, devouring you like a man starved

but doesn’t let you cum, not yet anyway

“katsuki—please, i need it, don’t fucking tease..”

hates when you whine because it chips at his hard exterior, he’d give anything to pull another cry from you

“beg for it then. you had so much to say earlier, eh? go ahead and put your mouth to better use, fuckin’ slut.”

spanks you while he eats it from the back cause he can

and don’t even get me started on his size kink

lives for making you feel small against his large stature and even larger ego

“damn, you’re tight...thought deku would’ve broken you in a bit more for me by now—”

his pace is angry and unforgiving like his mouth, leaving you no mercy when he finally takes his place between your thighs

“that’s it...take that shit. don’t run...come on, tell me who’s dick you go dumb for, say it—“

“yours! j-just yours, never ‘zuku. fuck! m’ so fucking close please, please—“

cant fill you up like he wants, but settles for painting your body with splotches of white, watching them mix with your now-purpling bruises

and when izuku calls your phone on the hour to ask when you’ll be home, that cocky fuck answers

“relax. your little girlfriend and i are at the office with some reports, she’s so damn uptight...been on my dick this entire time. “

“should probably loosen her up more, maybe she’d be less annoying.”

𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪:

he secretly loves it when you get like this

while dabi loves the rush of tossing around some brainless slut with a thing for fucking mass murderers

pussy was much better when it came with a little resistance, a little push back before he got what he wanted

“dabi come on..let her be. i’m sorry sweetness, this guy botherin’ you?”

his counterpart, keigo, was a top tier scumbag with grade-A looks, words mingling with a dulcet voice that could turn water into wine if he pleased

sienna wings bristled against his shoulder blades as he leaned down, an arm coming across your chest casually, bent over the back of the couch

“don’t call me that shit. actually, both of you are bothering me.” you grit, a hand swatting away tanned nimble fingers that were slowly making their way towards a breast

“see what i mean kei? she’s being a fucking brat. can’t stand bitches like her, always thinking they’re too good for guys like us.”

dabi takes a seat to your left, cyan eyes raking over the curve of your hips ravenously, staples gleaming in the bar’s gentle yellow glow

he was going to have so much fun breaking you in.

“ i think i know what her problem is....somebody just wants a little attention, right? hell, look at how she’s dressed...”

keigo’s eyes have taken on a darker energy, a hand winding around the width of your neck and squeezing lightly

“i don’t want anything from either of you assholes—wait, the hell are you trying to—ah!”

taking advantage of your pliant state, dabi’s hands begin to roam over exposed skin, a scarred set of hands slithering up your top

his abrasive fingers tweak your nipples roughly, rolling them between a forefinger and thumb with a lustful glare

“come on...don’t you want us to make you feel good? tell us you don’t want us to cream you like a fuckin’ twinkie, and we’ll leave your bitchy ass high and fucking dry, just like this.”

you hate them, the last thing you want is for either of these douchebags to be what gets you off

but god do keigo’s lips feel like heaven on earth when they’re against your pulse point like that, and dabi’s profuse experience shows in the way he manipulates your body to make you sigh in ecstasy, fingers slipping past drenched lace with ease to tease your sensitive clit...

“we—we shouldn’t do this out here, someone might see...s-shit, ah fuck—”

“so what? don’t want everyone to see how much you like getting double teamed?” keigo taunts, tongue darting out to soothe the harsh bruise he’d finished sucking into the skin beneath your ear

“nah, i think we’ll take you right here. besides, it’s just us and the boss man tonight. ‘should let him watch though, maybe he’d learn a thing or two about what a good fuck really looks like instead of that hentai shit.”

“so...you in or not? my hand’s starting to cramp.”

you nod, the motion serving at the catalyst for a number of debaucherous things that would soon happen to your body

marking is an absolute must

keigo’s practically feral once he knows you’re his to play with, love bites littering the expanse of your tits, neck, even the inside of your thighs

dabi marks you too, but he’s not nearly as nice as keigo, leaving handprints all over your ass, each one accompanied by a harsh yet tolerable burn

you can thank his quirk for that

they’re sloppy and they know it, dabi’s spit creating web-like strings connecting your pussy lips together, the metal barbell wedged between tongue muscle retreating from beneath your trembling thighs

meanwhile keigo’s reveling in the way your spit coats his dick in an effortless gloss, a hand keeping your head steady as he drives into your throat with reckless abandon

the saliva making its way down through the valley of your breasts while you struggle to breathe, eyes watering in both panic and pleasure as the two use you like a toy

they take turns, metal and heady sweat flood your tastebuds when dabi takes on keigo’s previous stance

dabi certainly makes sure you give his balls special attention. it doesnt enhance his pleasure, he just likes seeing you get so nasty for him.

not so high and mighty when you’re gargling the dick of one of japan’s most wanted, are you?

keigo’s dick reaches depths you didn’t think possible, tip prodding your innermost spots and making you sputter pathetically around dabi’s length, eyes burning as you try to control the heat in your lungs

“nah nah nah, don’t get all teary eyed now—thought it was “fuck us and our weak ass dick”? hm? well this weak ass dick’s makin’ you choke like a two dollar whore, and keigo’s about to pump that sloppy cunt full of cum...still think you’re better than us?”

you’re tossed between the two men like a ragdoll, until your body’s spent and you’re bred so good that you drip with their mix of fluids every time you shift a little

the men don’t hesitate to compliment your endurance, praising you for being “such a good little fucktoy”.

which in dabi’s words, is the closest you’ll ever get to a “sorry for bothering you”.

𝘢𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘸𝘢:

let me tell you a thing or two about shota.

he has no time, or tolerance, for bullshit.

between his atrocious sleep schedule, nightly patrols, and his day job as a high school teacher, he doesn’t have the capacity for mind games

so when you’d snapped on him like that, he did what he felt like was the most logical thing

he left you alone. he wasn’t about to get into some childish argument all because he didn’t give you the reaction you’d wanted over a dress

aizawa’s not a reactive man by nature

so when you’d purchased the sultry number, seams tight and neckline waivering on indecent

he’d merely hummed at the article of clothing in approval, committing the sight to memory before going back to finish reviewing his lesson plans for next week

which to you, wasn’t good enough. you wanted him to exhibit some sort of lust, something that made you feel like you still had him in the palm of your hand

it wasn’t like the two of you weren’t having sex, no not at all. but you wanted to feel like he wasn’t just attracted to you, but craved, desired, was desperate for your touch every now and again

and when he’d given his...lackluster feedback, you exploded, the two of you briefly exchanging words before you’d said that. shota was in no mood to argue, so he excused himself from the room to continue his work

“sorry if i actually want to, you know, feel desired by my own boyfriend? god, it’s like you don’t even look at me anymore.”

that comment stung, even recalling your wounded tone made his heart ache

was he really not paying attention to you?

but, unsurprisingly, the feelings of anger didn’t abate. just what made you think you could play these games with him, the two of you were grown, you knew if you wanted something all you had to do was ask—it made no sense

steel pen tip digging into the hurried scrawl of kaminari’s essay....if you could even call it that, he rose from his desk, relieved his tense neck from the presence of hair by knotting it into a high ponytail

beginning to strip as he made his way toward your shower

you wanted him to look at you? alright. he’d do exactly that, and then some. just remember, be careful what you wish for.

“shota? look... i’m sorry for how i acted earlier. i should’ve just communicated how i felt instead of blowing up on you like that, i just get frustrated with how much you work and how we never see each other, and it makes it hard for me to—mmph!”

he meets your lips with a subdued roughness, hands splayed across your hips, water trickling across stiffened knuckles while he fumbled and scoured for any piece of you he could manage to grasp

“you said you feel like i don’t look at you anymore.”

“lets fix that. i have a proposition for you. if you manage to hold eye contact with me for however long it takes for you to cum, my body’s yours to do whatever you want with.”

“however...look away for even a second, and i’ll have no problem reminding you just how much you can take before you’re begging for me to fuck you. you know how...efficient i can be. sound fair?”

now something he’d alluded to, but never said about this little agreement? there was no way for you to win.

on days where his exhaustion levels weren’t at an all time low, he’d find himself lapping at the slightly acidic, rich nectar between your thighs for hours and hours on end

so what made you think you even had the resolve to maintain eye contact the entire time?

you lose, though that was to be expected

and shota couldn’t be happier about it

now while it’s practically canon that he’s into bondage, let’s switch things up a bit

honestly, he’s the type to love proving a point.

he’ll make you ride his dick, not letting you stop for a second even though he’s practically in your stomach at this point

bad at it? he doesn’t care. your knees are giving out? not his problem.

“sho-please, i can’t, ‘s too big...fuck—“

“damn, and to think i had ‘weak ass dick’ before. now you can’t take it? pick a side sweetheart, your desperation is showing.”

he’s not incredibly vocal in the bedroom as that’s just not who he is

but makes an exception when it comes to making fun of you

“come on, you can swallow more than that, right? tch. you’ve gotten lazy.”

is another one of those “take a photo for future reference” type of people. but he’s respectful of not only your privacy but his own, and keeps it in the hidden photos folder of his camera roll like a sane adult.

he had to learn the hard way about the importance of concealing scandalous materials that one time hizashi was using screen sharing to suggest a new learning course during a staff meeting

only for the blonde to scroll and several pairs of eyes in the room to be blessed (or cursed) with the sight of a rather ecstatic looking woman bent in a position that would make a gymnast blush

also likes to give you sloppy, shallow half strokes to drive you to the point of insanity before spreading your ass cheeks and molding your body to the bed beneath you

“you wanna know what i was thinking about when you walked out with that dress on? hm? i wondered... ‘how long it would take before we used it as a cumrag after i was done with you?’ i thought about doing this.”

oh, and by the way, there’s a mirror above your bed for a reason. but we’ll get into that some other time, won’t we?

#izuku midoriya x reader #bakugo x reader #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #aizawa x reader #deku smut #bakugo smut #dabi smut #hawks smut #aizawa smut #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #kittybutmakeitferal #thanks once again for 1k you nasties!

[haik-choo]

I don't write cause I feel I don't have a good grasp on the characters personalities etc, the characterisation of akaashi post is so helpful! 👀👀 Would you do kuroo or bokuto?

a/n: I hope you like both of these! again, if yall want me to do others, let me know! these are across the span of their life, so some may seem college-related and some may seem young-adulty! 

[MISCHARACTERIZATIONS OF BOKUTO AND KUROO]

bokuto kotaro.

clueless: i’ve stated this in akaashi’s post, but bokuto is extremely emotionally intelligent. he can pick up on the slightest changes in people’s demeanor or posture, he can tell if someone is sad or happy even if they aren’t good at displaying emotions. he’s not a dumbass -- and he can pick up on others’ limits and boundaries very quickly. despite his ability to read people relatively well, he has no qualms about pushing people out of their comfort zones and forcing them to do things they might hate at first, but will love later. he pushes boundaries according to your comfort level, and respects your hard limits. 

only positive: a lot of people write bokuto to be someone ho’s only happy-go-lucky, or someone who rarely gets sad (aside from his moods that are less sad and more discouraged), but I think that almost dehumanizes him. he gets back up faster than most, yes, and at the end of a lost game where everyone is crying, bokuto is dry-eyed. he’s the type to get home and plop down on his bed, face-first into his pillow, lips quivering and eyes lightly watering. there are times where he feels insecure, especially when he’s younger, just because he can tell he’s different from the rest. he has a feeling that people are put-off from his personality, he has a feeling that he’s not as (traditionally/academically) smart as everyone else, he has a feeling that some people find him annoying. that’s why when he’s near his close friends he’s very loose -- he doesn’t feel the need to hold back even a little because he knows that they love him for him. this translates to his toxic trait with his lover being that he feels dejected/insecure if you ever want space. while he can read boundaries, he would really benefit from a lover who has just as few as he, because then he can be his truest self.

love-at-first-sight: he’s not the type to fall in love at one glance, he’s just not. yes, he might get interested or you may catch his attention, but he’s not going to fall in love with someone because they have a pretty smile. it’s not that he’s calculated or over-thinks his emotions, he knows exactly what he feels, it’s just that his heart is a little slow when it comes to falling in love. he’s such an energetic all-over-the-place person that love is never really on his mind (he gets into some trouble with accidentally leading girls on because he’s so friendly). when he eventually falls in love, though....oh boy. he stutters, he’s over-thinking all his movements when it comes to you -- he’s usually impulsive but with you he really, really doesn’t want to screw up. he wants everything to go smoothly -- so he’s the type to plan out a confession and actually try to stick to it. when it comes to something like love, bokuto is surprisingly slow and careful, because he knows how fragile a heart is. 

never gets angry: i think most people like to imagine his anger is so rare because the image of an angry bokuto is scary, especially with his stature. and while it’s true his anger is uncommon (because he’s good at processing his own emotions and not lashing out at others), when he does get angry it can be pretty unnerving. he’s the type to slam his fist on the counter unknowingly when having a really bad fight with his lover, and he has a booming voice. he’d never hit someone, but he doesn’t realize how intimidating his physique is. anger is uncommon, but that doesn’t mean he’s not scary. he always apologize afterwards, though.

boundless confidence: i touched on it earlier, that he has bouts of insecurity, but again, i really want to emphasize that he’s not endlessly confident. honestly, maybe in the anime and manga he seems that way, but if you want to make him more human, have more life than a fictional character, you have to create limits or certain traits. bokuto is very sensitive, and the slightest thing can either inflate his ego or deflate it. plays in volleyball constantly not working may dig at his confidence, but he always re-inflates. in real life, outside the court, there are things that keep his confidence low everytime they happen. fights with his lover are one of these things; he’ll get jealous when they leave the apartment after a fight because he’ll worry about you finding someone more stable than him. jealousy alone is a solid sign of chipped confidence, something that someone as sensitive as bokuto gets every once in a while. 

overall, bokuto is a lot more intelligent than what people give him credit for. he’s honest with his own emotions and can read people very well, which is probably why he’s such a people person, but he still has flaws. he does not have boundless confidence or have no perception of boundaries; he’s unbelievably understanding. he may be initially insecure, have intimidating anger, etc. but ,after all, he’s human, isn’t he? 

kuroo tetsuro. 

sex god: don’t get me wrong, I definitely believe that he’s had a lover or two, especially in college, and that he’s played the field a little bit. but i don’t see him as the guy that has had sex with every person in his major. he’s a genuine guy and can’t have sex with someone he’s not emotionally invested in -- despite not being a ‘player’, he’s totally gotten in trouble with a few people because they think he’s leading them on when he walks with them to class everyday. 

intimidating: people always characterize him as this mysterious, sexually intimidating guy, but i just can’t see him as someone intimidating. if anything, he may be a little unapproachable because he has a really tight knit group of friends that he’s always with, but he’s not scary. he’s not the center of attention but he’s not a wallflower either, he enjoys observing people and watching drama play out, but he’s not silent and glaring all the time. he’s quite fun, he’s loud, and he enjoys embarrassing his friends in public. he’s the type to twerk in public and laugh his ass off when akaashi or kenma give him the side-eye and bro-kuto joins in. he likes to have fun, ya know? i don’t know about you, but a guy that twerks in public isn’t very scary, to me at least. 

prideful: I understand why people paint him as a prideful guy, he obviously likes what he does and has a personable personality, but honestly, he’s not perfect. he often has moments where he doubts himself because of his past decisions, his career one of them. kuroo is an amazing middle blocker, and his choice to go into sports advertisement rather than an actual volleyball league no doubt haunts him at night sometimes. he thinks of the ‘what-ifs’, and he dreams of what he could be. especially since his best friend is bokuto, a professional player, it’s often on his mind. it’s a super touchy subject for him, and if someone were to question his job-choice i have no doubt that he’d get really sour and distant from that person because he’s not sure of himself either. 

frat boy: he’s not someone who can’t cook, he’s not someone who sleeps at 5am everyday, hungover. he’s not the type of person to be immature in any way -- he’s got his shit together. i’m sure most people can actually see this, but kuroo is very responsible and realistic (which is part of the reason he didn’t do professional volleyball). he does his taxes, does his homework, gives out good advice, gets up early and eats everything that a healthy person should eat (in all the right proportions, too). he doesn’t even drink often, if anything he’s just a social drinker. he goes to bed at 10pm and wakes up at 6am to work out, no joke. he’s gotta keep that physique somehow. 

decisive: i know i said he’s responsible, but i don’t think that translates to decisive. i can see him having a lot of conflicting things going on in his life, different wants and different paths that he wants to take but can’t keep all open. it happens in love, his career, his college major, etc. he wants a lot in life, he wants success, happiness, a good love-life, everything. when he had to choose between volleyball and a life-long, stable career, he was broken for weeks. was he good enough for his dream? was it wise to chase his dream? would it be better to get more kids into volleyball, do what he did, what he couldn’t do? in his love life he always hesitates, too: does he see a life with them? how long will they love him? will they be able to deal with him once they see that he’s not perfect? is it worth it? it doesn’t matter if he’s in love or not, because his extreme caution can come off as very distant and unwilling to let you in, hence his toxic trait. he’s indecisive, scared, yet passionate and hard-working. 

overall, kuroo is full of contradiction. he wants a lot from life and is willing to work for it. he has dreams and tries to stay healthy and put himself out there, have fun, the whole shabang -- but he’s not perfect. he’s overly cautious when it comes to making important decisions simply because he can see a future with all of the different paths he can take. but honestly, isn’t everyone a little contradictory? 

#haikyū!! #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu hcs #kuroo #bokuto #kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #kuroo fluff #bokuto fluff #kuroo smut #bokuto smut #kuroo headcanons #bokuto headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #kuroo angst #bokuto angst #anon #answered

[scriptaed]

cherry blossom avenue.

❀ genre: angst/fluff; arranged marriage!au; f2l!au;

❀ pairing: jin x reader; 

❀ length: 23.0k;

❀ synopsis: college would’ve been unbearable if it weren’t for your wallowing sessions with your best friend jin over a shared “forever alone” woe, so it really was only a matter of time until the two of you sealed a shoddy promise to betroth the other at the age of 27. perhaps it was only a silly joke to you then, but you should’ve known better nonetheless; because when a wedding invitation arrives five years later down the road with his name signed next to another’s, feelings that were once buried begin to blossom once again.

“Don’t be a homewrecker.”

What was supposed to be a light-hearted tease over your fleeting glimpses in his direction bears much more weight than even reality should have; and unbeknownst to her, even if your friend’s commentary strikes a fear in you, a fear that has some creature eating away at you and a horrifying drop in the twisted pain of your chest, the daunting knowledge of a potential truth behind her words pale in comparison to the anguish brought upon by a familiar face of the past. 

Because even as you stand far and hidden behind the crowd of overly dressed classmates and unacquainted businessmen all painted by a silhouette of dimmed black, you manage to observe him through the few albeit sure opportunities; for when the passersby chatter, cross, and weave through the lavish ballroom floor at the perfect time, place, and space for you to peep through the pinholes seemingly formed by pure happenstance or a cruel wish casted upon by fate, the clock returns to a buried state of mind.  

It’s a state of mind seven years stale, mistakenly manifested and deliberately buried. It’s a transition in mindsets when fondness sours into a longing for something that could never be, for his reciprocation of affections means much less than its origins. It’s a heavy moment when you’re finally sure he would never come to speak the language of your enamored being. It’s that fractured frame in time when everyone freezes in their tracks but a reverberating pain transcends the laws of the universe, almost as if on a personal quest to oust you; and even if you vehemently down yourself with another magical shot of liquor, nothing can quite ease the internal war stirring within.

One hand grasping a glass of red wine worth much more than a month of your salary and one arm crossed under the bosom draped over by your only presentable black satin slip dress, you’re almost numb to the turmoil that is irony. How cruel is it that even after seven years of having believed you had moved on, nothing has really changed after all? Your heart still melts in the wake of his dorky grin, your chest still winces over the buried buds of a coveted love, and your blood still runs intoxicated by the presumption that this phase of infatuation would pass with time. 

Your friendship, your feelings, your shared promise, a youth that no one had paid witness to except for you, him, and that cherry blossom tree down that street, nothing has really changed. In fact, you feel as though you could still march across this room and nonchalantly probe at your best friend’s cheek with the ultimate goal of eliciting a shriek from your best friend. 

And yet, the circumstances that have brought you back to him in this very room must have been the one cruel exception. 

“A ‘homewrecker?’” you feign a light-hearted chuckle, swirling your drink and taking another sip as you peek at the distorted glass-image of the man and the woman beside him. “And why would you say something as horrifying as that?”

“Didn’t you say you and, what’s his name,” Alex pauses before nearly gasping, “ah, Seokjin! Didn’t you say you two used to be best friends in college? You might have been his best friend but she’s his fiance now, Y/N! Plus, she’s got a baby in her, too.” 

She might have been joking, and it really should have been if you had been truthful about your feelings for said best friend, but maybe this is the price you’re paying for so dutifully holding onto your dignity; so, instead, the deep undercut of her remark instigates a stirring irritation within you. Raising a questioning brow at your friend is all you can muster without spilling your secret as well as your brewing storm. 

“Oh, so you actually do remember what I say when you’re only a minute from blacking out?” 

“Hey,” your friend recognizes the anger seeping through your body language, stifling a giggle as she tries to bump your elbow and stumbles over her heels, “it was a joke, okay? I’m just looking out for my friend!”

“Right, what is there to even look out for?” 

“Well,” she points a finger at the direction you had just been staring off into a minute prior and leans in to whisper, “you’ve been staring at the newly engaged man for much longer than the woman beside him, if that says anything—”

“—uhuh, as if, hey!” you almost yelp as you help her stand upright once again. A scoff of disbelief escapes your lips over the sight of your friend letting herself go. Grabbing her glass and swiftly placing it onto the tray of the many passing waiters, you squish her cheeks and give her a light pat or two. “The only person you need to worry about is yourself. Why are you even wearing those ungodly stilettos when you can’t even wear kitten heels without whining all day at work?”

“Hey,” Alex pouts, bending one knee and jutting her hips to show off those torturous pink devices on her feet. “I told you about my ex from high school, don’t you remember?”

“So it’s okay if you’re trying to impress an ex from high school, but I’m not even allowed to glance at my old best friend?” you quip, pressing your lips into a thin line as you take another gander at your friend up and down. “And what does excessive drinking even have anything to do with it?” 

She flashes you a mischievous grin, “for confidence.”

“I can’t with you,” the roll of your eyes must have agreed, “and what about the classmate friend who actually invited you to her engagement party?”

“Oh,” Alex glances at the woman beside Jin and shrugs, “she’s alright. She’s that typical good girl. Too smart, too kind, too good at everything that you really want to hate her but have no reason to do so. I’m sorry, Y/N, but your best friend is devilishly handsome and I’m not surprised she’s marrying someone of her league.” 

“Pfft, why are you apologizing to me?” you scoff, ushering her to the washroom and shaking your head along with the stream of confusing emotions that hit you like a truck. “Go wake yourself up before she or, gasp, worse yet, your ex spots you.” 

“Oh my God, you’re right,” she gasps, shuffling in her skintight red bodycon dress and whirling around once more to call out before finally disappearing, “let me know if any boy comes looking for me!” 

“Uhuh, yeah, sure,” you shoo her away, taking another sip from your glass and muttering under your breath, “...how am I supposed to recognize your high school classmates?”

Now that your friend is gone and you’re left all alone to your thoughts, you go against your own advice and down another glass of liquor. 

You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance. 

Well, if Alex is a good judge of character, then at least a good man like your best friend has found an equally respectful woman. It might have hurt to hear her words, but Alex isn’t exactly wrong. At the very least, you could sigh in relief having known you’re genuinely happy for your best friend’s future. 

It’s just that the truth hurts sometimes. 

Relief isn’t an excuse for lingering onto a soon-to-be-married man, regardless of when these emotions came about. 

People are chattering all around you, strangers and former acquaintances are bustling about, familiar college classmates are greeting the bride-to-be’s high school classmates, and yet here you are: aloof and isolated even in a room of hundreds, fixated and more distant than you have ever been to the boy you had once cherished as the closest anyone could get to knowing the real you. 

No one would know but Jin. 

The real you.

The you who could not have moved on because she couldn’t recognize her own feelings until seven years down the road with a wedding invitation in hand, seven years after the buds had been sowed, seven years too late. 

The one who stands pathetically here in the corner of a room, secretly hoping for him to approach her but also wishing for the night to pass unnoticed just like she had wished for her buried affections to pass.  

So you shuffle in place awkwardly, pondering whether you should’ve caved into Alex’s pleas and attended this posh get-together, debating whether you should dip once your friend realizes her high school ex just isn’t worth it, sipping the remainder of opulent liquor and taking one last peek at the boy, when, your heart strikes loudly against your chest…

...because his eyes catch yours, a pair amongst hundreds, one invitee amidst an endless swarm of crowds, almost as if on a planned rendezvous, a secret unbeknownst to everyone in the room but the two of you.

Eyes widening in shock, the drums of your chest hammer against you, each strike pumping a nearly painful high that fuels your fight or flight mode. The debate between confronting your longtime friend and fleeing said friend did not even cross your mind at the start of the predicament. Quickly whirling around, head down and hands gripped to your drink, your feet move on its own. 

A familiar series of clicks echo against the polished marble tiles. You don’t even have to turn around to recognize those homecoming footsteps, those awe-inspiring confident strides as he makes his way across the room. If this were you from seven years ago, you would have welcomed him with open arms and he would have claimed you were just acting sweet to bargain for some fresh pastry, but the unfamiliarity of a stranger you have yet to reconcile with has you in an unexplainable panic. 

After all, it’s hard to explain why exactly his persistent pursuit after you, after seven years of distance, both emotional and physical, frustrates you to no ends. 

Your hands form fists, your feet storm down the halls, and your mind could repeat nothing but the words you had excused as “just a light-hearted joke.” 

You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance. 

Don’t be a homewrecker.

A baby in her.

A baby.

His fiance. 

A homewrecker.

The accusations echo and echo, as though screaming at you in the endless cave that is your mind, until the party fades, the crowd disappears, and the ear-piercing classical music wanes against the walls of your temporary solace, the bathroom. Finally, entrapped in a world of black—black tiles, wine colored walls, and dark red roses perched on top of what seems to be a black granite sink—you’re left alone to your thoughts. 

Alex wouldn’t understand a seven-year-long regret because she doesn’t know the real history between you and Jin. In fact, no one invited to this engagement party nor does anyone in this whole mansion know of the soon-to-be groom’s past. 

It isn’t as simple as people might make it out to be on the surface, because no one but you, Jin, and the street down your block had paid witness to a shoddy, spontaneous promise that should have never been made. 

Turning on the faucet and splashing a fresh handful of cold water onto your face, your eyes eventually wander from the stream of water that flows down the drain up along the glass bowl of a sink and into the mirror to meet the sullen eyes of a girl, seven years older with a stain of regret that spans much longer that a mere seven years. 

❀ ❀ ❀

“Waaah,” the boy exclaims as you watch your own reflection narrow its eyes at the image beside you. The spectacle persists to angle his chin every which way until he’s finally satisfied with the protrusion of his jawline; and as the boy resumes his daily activity of marveling at himself in awe, you have to wonder once again, for the hundredth time by now, just how you two had possibly become best friends. “Looking good, Jin. Looking real good.”

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes and feign nausea, “narcissist.” 

Jin pauses in the midst of his inspection, allowing his phone to settle into his lap and turning to glance at you with his head as high—well, almost as high—as his ego. “When you look as good as this,” he gestures at himself and your eyes follow his crafty fingers up and down, “don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t be all up in yourself.”

You blink your eyes blankly and start with the most accusatory tone you could muster, “excuse you, Kim Seokjin, but are you saying that I don’t look good?” 

“You’re insisting that yourself, not me! It’s not my fault you can’t appreciate your God-given looks,” Jin raises his hands mercifully and you almost miss his latter, back-handed compliment when you become entranced by those double-jointed fingers of his. “Plus, I said ‘when you look as good as this.’”

“Psh, yeah,” you mumble, “and yet here you are, still as forever alone as ever.”

“Hey,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at you even as he raises his phone to take yet another selfie, “and what does that say about you?”

“...and that’s exactly why,” you chirp as you hastily smush your cheek against his and throw a peace sign just as he snaps a photo, “we’re gonna be forever alone together!” 

“Hey, why’re you ruining my selfie—” he pauses in the middle of his camera roll “—oh, we actually look good.”

Glimpsing at one of many candid photos of you and him, a helpless smile spreads across your lips. A warm breeze blows and you can practically smell the impending spring that breathes life into the pink buds hovering on the cherry tree above you. The sun’s embrace against your bare legs that lie beside your best friend’s on the red and white checkered picnic is a perfect compliment to the equally bright phenomena that are his high-pitched giggles; and like the many days you’ve spent the past year, the only thing that could possibly elevate this moment of serenity would be a bite of his weekly pastry batches.  

Speaking as you chow down on the carbs, you quip, “you mean you look good?” 

“That, too, but I meant us, together—” he articulates, cutting himself off abruptly when he snaps his head to find you digging into one of his many bread “—hey, who said you could start testing without me?!” 

“Too many selfies, too slow, too hungry,” you lean your head back to plop the remainder of the custard-filled bread into your mouth, “shmorry Jin, but dish ish delicious.”

Just as you lean forward and take another large bite out of the batch, Jin catches right up to you, snatching the remainder and plopping it right into his now-stuffed cheeks instead. Lips falling agape at the disappearance of your bite-size donut, you gawk at your best friend whomst chomps happily away with your piece in his mouth. 

You can still recall the heat of your cheeks after the first time he had ever proclaimed something that was yours as his—in fact, it wasn’t much long ago when Jin had nearly regurgitated a mouthful of mocha frappuccino after discovering you had sneaked in a sip or two prior—but now? Sharing commodities has become such second nature to you two that sometimes you wish he could return to his germophobic days just so you can hog all the food…

...and maybe to relive whatever magical flutters that had befallen you on that very first day.

“Of coursh ish delicious!” he manages to exclaim incoherently. “Kim Sheokjin baked it afta all!” 

“Yeah,” you take a long moment to gulp and make room for more food, “I think I prefer the ones with custard—”

“—so it’s a perfect batch just like m—”

“—almost perfect.”

You could see yourself wink through the prideful glint in his eyes quickly plummet into a glare that has you laughing at the downfall of his indestructible ego. His playful glare through the corner of his narrowed eyes silently commences yet another one of your daily staring challenges. Maybe that’s why the two of you made such a perfect pair amongst the thousands of classmates at school. After all, how would Jin ever find someone as tolerant of his incessant dad jokes and perpetual ego as you are? And how would you ever find someone who would bake you goods and cook you lunch and, not to mention, spout such peculiar humor? 

All of your classmates had dubbed the two of you as the perfect comedy duo—the dumb and the dumber, the silly and the sillier—that, apparently, is the essence of a match made in heaven, albeit probably meant to be more platonically than romantically. 

Both too stubborn to lose, even in a meaningless game of a staring contest, not even the heat of the sun rays that has you two nearly sweating bullets could deter the match. Eventually, seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into a frenzy frozen moment in time as you start to fall into the sudden abyss you found yourself in that is the warmth pool of his eyes. 

Perhaps it’s the angle at which the rays strike theatrically on the apples of his cheeks, illuminating his dewy skin and enhancing the chocolate hues of his orbs hidden underneath the matching brown locks of his all whilst his eyes happen to be staring right back at you. You’ve never quite felt this way before—heart palpitating, throat constricting, and mind panicking—but for the first time ever, you’re hesitant in allowing your best friend to peer through the windows to your soul. 

This isn’t good. What would he do if he were to discover your frenzy? Would he tease you to no ends? 

Worse yet, would he falsely assume that you’re hardcore crushing on him…?

“Oh God,” you blurt out, breaking eye contact to avert your head to the side across the street. Your lips begin to mumble whatever comes first to mind, “uh, wow, look at that couple. Ugh, PDA—” your eyes flicker to find Jin raising a brow just before your eyes avert once again and he follows your line of sight “—am I right?” 

“Oh c’mon! Just admit it,” Jin chides. “You’re only using this to disguise the fact that you were just about to blink, weren’t you?” 

“I was not about to blink,” you insist but your shifty gaze tells the both of you otherwise, even if the true lack of confidence is unbeknownst to Jin. “You suck at staring contests. How many times have I won before? I was just distracted, okay?”

“Oh yeah?” Jin crosses his arms. “Distracted by what, then? Huuuh? By my devastatingly good looks?”

“No!” you exclaim almost too adamantly that you have to add in a nervous laugh at the end, which only has Jin staring at you in utter disbelief. Feigning an apologetic pressed smile, you gesture your hands in the direction of the couple supposedly hidden behind a fence but clearly exposed to those on a hill, otherwise known as you two. “I meant them—”

“—ew!”

The both of you exclaim in unison, selflessly covering the tarnished eyes of the other and ducking away from the moment of intimacy that you two had just intruded on. 

“Aw, cmon! Even after graduation, too?” Jin remarks, mouth gaping and hands falling from your shielded eyes only to be thrown to his side in bewilderment. “Does everyone really have to remind us just how lonely we are even on our last day?” 

“You mean how lonely we are and how lonely we will be for the rest of our lives?”

“For the rest of our lives?” Jin quirks a brow at you before shaking his head and shrugging. “Dang, that wasn’t exactly my plan, because the world will be forced to acknowledge my looks sooner or later, but I mean, in your case…”

“What?!” you gasp in disbelief, slapping his arm hard enough for him to wince. “What do you mean ‘in your case?’ I bet you haven’t even kissed someone yet!” 

Jin snarls at you as he pulls his arm back and retorts, “yeah? And I bet you haven’t either!” 

“Actually, I have, with Joon at that party last year,” you say smugly, crossing your arms with a chin held high, “and you just admitted you haven’t had your first kiss yet.”

“Psh, yeah, I haven’t, and?" the boy holds his head high akin to a child arguing with his body and not with his words. “Because I prefer to save it for something meaningful unlike someone here.” 

“Hey, are you insinuating that it wasn’t meaningful?”

“You’ve always told me how much you hated parties!” he throws his hands up. “Plus, you don’t even like Joon! You said his breath stinks!” 

“Well—” you pause but no words come to you except for a loud grunt “—ugh, fine. You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he turns away, leaning into his right hand with an elbow propped against his crisscrossed lap. “I’m Kim Seokjin, after all.” 

Following suit, you mumble into your propped hand, “I guess that’s why we’re friends in the first place. Together and, yet, still forever alone.”

“Hey, I said I don’t plan on being forever alone.”

“Right, right,” you brush him off, “tell me that when you actually get a girlfriend—actually, tell me that when you find someone to marry who doesn’t run for their life just one month into your relationship.” 

“‘Marry?!’” he gawks at your demand. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and you’re talking about marriage?!”

“What?” you turn to face him, cheek resting in hand. “Didn’t you say the world would soon recognize your charms?”

“Hmph, well,” he says with a jutted lower lip, “definitely sooner than you.”

“Really?” you gape at his bold proclamation despite clearly being the one with the upperhand. “You really think you’re gonna get married before me?” 

Your best friend doesn’t even bother glancing at you before answering, “bet.”

“Okay, if you win, then I’ll eat the crust to your breads whenever you want. I’ll even throw in a bonus for you and spare your wife from having to see fetus photos of you in college,” you can only snicker at the lightbulb that goes off in his widened eyes. “And if I win, then you’ll have to eat my crust and delete all the ugly photos you have of me on your phone.”

“Sorry, can’t do. That would take me an eterni—”

“—shut up.” 

“Okay, fine, bet,” he cackles, straightening his back and stretching his arms out before him, “and what if neither of us ever get married?”

“Hm,” you purse your lips, “good point. Should we set a time cap to our bet? Ideally, if I want to have a stable job and income by 25, have children by 30, enjoy two or three years of marriage without kids, then…”

“Why do you have to have children by 30?” Jin frowns. “Why set all these unrealistic standards on yourself?” 

Putting a finger to hush his lips, you almost find yourself distracted by the plush warmth against your skin. Quickly, you answer, “long story short: parents.”

“Ah,” he utters even as your fingers are pressed to his lips, “ditto.” 

“Let’s set the cap to 27,” you propose. “If neither of us get married by the age of 27, then we’ll just call off the bet. But damn—” the two of you simultaneously lean your chins into your palms “—that means we’re really gonna be a disappointment to our parents forever, huh?” 

A loud, heavy sigh escapes the both of you; and while you stay pouting into your hands, staring into the fresh green grass on the downside of the hill off in the distance, Jin props his hands back against the blanket and cranes his neck back to look off into the distant sky. You hadn’t noticed it until now, but for a devilishly dashing guy like Jin—broad shoulders, facial features that could only be gifted, and a prominent Adam’s apple, especially with his head rolled to the back like this—you have to admit his lonely status must have been much more of a choice to Jin than it is for you; because even for someone like you, his best friend who gets to stare at his profile for as long you desire in all its glory, you have yet to become desensitized to his dazzling visuals that is anything but normal.

As much as you hate to admit it, even now, with a clear blue sky, an array of warm pastry aroma, and a field of freshly cut grass, you can’t help but become enamored by the person before you. 

And when another sigh befalls his lips and the two of you have settled into a comfortable silence and a breeze passes by the both of you, rustling a dozen or so of the hovering cherry petals to grace the surrounding air, he speaks. 

“Let’s get married if we’re still single by then.” 

“...huh?”

“I said,” only his eyes move to peer down at you effortlessly, “if we both lose the bet, then let’s get married.”

Your eyes pop and you can only utter the few words that reach you, “to each other?” 

“No, to food,” he says sarcastically, grabbing a piece of his bread and stuffing your face with it when you continue to stare at him and he shuffles awkwardly in place. Looking away, he mumbles, “of course to each other, who else, dummy?”

“Uh….huh,” you blankly nod your head as a series of laughs are stifled by the bread. “Okay, and you’re being serious?”

He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “uhuh.”

“Pffft, and you’re saying you would keep that promise? That you would even remember this moment? We’re just gonna marry? Like that? And you’re assuming I’m just going to agree?”

“Hey,” he turns to frown at you, “why wouldn’t you agree? I’m offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

Munching down on the bread, you continue to play along in amusement, “really? And what exactly are you offering me? You know I have high standards, right? I’m not just going to accept any proposal.”

“I know. That’s why you’re still single…” the boy deadpans, even as you glare at his remark, “...but, that’ll all change when you witness my proposal! Hear me out. First, I’ll cook every meal for you for the entire day.”

“You almost already do that except for breakfast.”

“Okay, but I’ll hone my skills by then. It’ll be even better than any restaurant we’ve ever been to.”

You raise a brow, “so you think food is the way to my heart?”  

“No offence, but yes, that’s why we’re friends,” he quips before continuing, “second, I’ll bring flowers to you at work. Everyone at your job will be burning with jealousy!”

“Because of your public display of affection, which we both clearly disdain?” 

“No, because they would wonder how you have such a handsome boyfriend like me!” he wags his finger. “Plus, who doesn’t like a little PDA when they’re about to be proposed to?” 

“Okay, fair enough, but those are two promises you’re making for the proposal. A marriage is a lifelong commitment. Why would I want to marry you just for food and flowers?”

“Hmmm, even for someone like you, I’m surprised you have so many requirements,” Jin hums, tapping his finger on his chin. “How about this, I’ll make three more promises for our marriage.”

“Quit saying ‘our marriage,’ I keep shuddering at the thought of it,” you remark as you rub your arms. 

“Third promise, I won’t break your achey breaky heart,” he deliberately emphasizes each word in a fruitful attempt to send shivers down your spine. “Fourth promise, I’ll remember all of my promises.”

“Okay… and fifth?”

“I’ll keep all of my promises! And I’ll do it all right here at this spot. Our spot.”

“What? That’s dumb,” you giggle. “Just keep it at four, then.”

“No,” he grabs the bagel in your hands and fills his mouth without a second of hesitation, “ish eashier to wememba fibe promishesh.”

“Right, right, right,” you nod, pressing your lips in a vain attempt to muffle your chuckles. “And what promises would you want me to make?”

“You?” he quirks a brow before shaking his head. “Nothing. You’re fine. I like you just the way you are.”

Huh. Has Jin always been this nice? Because you don’t quite recall ever feeling the heat of an oncoming blush of your cheeks or the bashful flutters that come with your best friend’s witty remarks. Maybe the topic of marriage has thrown you off today or maybe it’s the aftermath of a high having just graduated college and being thrusted into adulthood, but the stretched smile that adorns your lips is an undeniable fact that your confidence and spontaneity has reached its pinnacle.

Grinning, you lean across Jin’s lap to grab and unlock his phone to access the camera, “okay, wanna take a photo to commemorate this moment?”

“Gee, if you want a photo of me that bad, you could just ask me to send you a selfie, y’know—what the,” Jin starts to cackle when you raise the phone into the air and suddenly press your cheeks against his without warning. With a side-finger gun to frame his cheeks and chin, your best friend readies his pose as you wear a mischievous smile. “Hurry up and take the picture already, Y/N. My time is money.” 

“Hey Jin,” you call out to him with your eyes still fixated to the phone screen, as does his. 

The boy almost drags his words, “now what?”

“You’ve never had a girl kiss you on the cheeks before either, right?”

“What—”

—click.

“There,” you chirp jubilantly, grinning at the stunned look on his face, his eyes popping and his lips just slightly parted but failing to utter a single word as his hand grazes the spot on his cheeks where your lips had just touched, “now you have zero excuses to forget our promise!”

❀ ❀ ❀

That must have been the last time you had met up with Jin in person. Shortly after graduation, the two of you had parted ways as many are forced to do in order to embark on their lives as full-fledged adults. Being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Jin had been lucky enough to receive a job offer straight out of college with the help of family connections; although, even without his family name, you whole-heartedly believe he still would have managed on his own based off of his unparalleled work ethic that you had the chance to witness firsts-handedly. 

On the other hand, your parents had advised you to stay home, which happened to mean you would be stuck in the same town of your college, until you finally landed a decent job where you had met Alex and established a new life. Unfortunately, like life always does, all that busywork meant sacrificing contact with your best friend somewhere along the way.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”

“Ah, shit,” you mutter under your breath as you stop in the midst of your tracks down the black-marbled hallway, gritting your teeth and composing yourself just as you’ve done countless times around your less than friendly colleagues. Taking a deep breath in and out, you put on a pleased smile and whirl around to find the face of a familiar boy in your most recent reveries. “Ahh, hey, Jin... It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Ah,” the man, who seems to have grown at least or three inches since you had last seen him, scratches the back of his head. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight… how have you been?”

This is awkward. So painfully awkward. 

“Me? Oh, I’ve been alright. Life. Adulting. You know the drill,” you press a thin smile. “Actually, I’m surprised to be seeing you here tonight. I still remember us whining all throughout college over being forever alone, and yet here we are… at your engagement party… life can be funny, huh?” 

“Y—” he stutters, scratching the back of his neck “—yeah… it can be.” 

“So,” you chirp in a fruitless attempt to lift the suffocating atmosphere, “the wedding is coming up pretty soon! Feeling good or is someone getting cold feet?” 

He shakes his head weakly, “I wear socks to sleep.” 

“Wh—” you pause for a quick second, blinking blankly at his soft chuckle and following suit shortly after “—why do your jokes sound like you’re 22 again?” 

The man shrugs with a helpless smile hinted in the corners of his lips; and when it happens—you don’t know how or when the silence had whisked you away into a past time—you find him gazing at you with that fondness of a sole friend who endlessly shared and fought informidable woes with you. Perhaps you’re a hopeless romantic frozen between the fork of two roads that have long closed, for you swear you can see your own reflection through his warm brown eyes and you surmise the only possible answer to the question that lingers in your mind. 

He must see the same friend in you, that girl he would only call friend.

“You’ve been preparing your whole life for this, or, actually, maybe I should say we’ve been preparing,” you smile to stifle the lurching ache in your chest, “I guess I’m the only fool waiting for her turn now.” 

A weep cracks the laugh you force out of your knotted throat. Immediately, you turn your head to avoid his watchful gaze and tuck a lock of hair behind an ear whilst discretely ridding any traces of waterworks welling in your vision. You think you must have gotten away with the feigned laugh and turn, a routine you had mastered at your previous work, but the gradual dissolution of the curve on his lips settles into an unreadable flatline more resembling a frown than anything; because even after all these years, he can still read you like an open book. 

So, if he could see through your every facade even now, then why does he not remember? You know you shouldn’t hold it against him, such a silly promise built on a lonesome pair of naive hearts,  but you can’t help it when a single word paints your conscience. 

Why?

Why can’t he remember? 

Your shared promises, your birthday, your memories, and... you?

“Y/N,” Jin begins gently, hesitating in place once he takes a step forward and you flinch, “about the wedding date…”

He waits for you to reply, supposedly for ‘whenever you were ready’, as he always does during those fragile lows of yours. 

To avoid letting loose any more unneeded drama, you can only manage a hum, “mm?”

“I…” he pauses and sighs. “I know it’s your birthday.”

A hitch in your breath is audible. You clamp your lips tightly and nod, uttering lowly, “yeah.”

“I want you to know I didn’t decide the date, Y/N,” he says firmly, “my father did.” 

“And?” you quip suddenly, eyes darting to shoot a glower deadly enough for him to twitch in evident hurt. There, you went ahead and did it. As hard as you had spent the past months muting your rawest reaction to the envelope in your mailbox, all the pent up frustration and sheer sorrow for a lost future came whiplashing just as hard. “And you couldn’t tell your father to change the date? Maybe one day after? Or two?” 

“You know I would have asked if I could, Y/N,” he bites his tongue to state sternly, “but how would he understand? Change it for… for what—”  he laughs cruelly in the midst of his burst “—for the birthday of a best friend I lost contact with for five whole years?! That’s so… so dumb—” 

“—dumb…?”

The crack in your voice leads to a stagnant silence over what is clearly a no man’s land. Betrayal visibly paints across your face, the momentary display of having wronged his closest ally stains his own. 

“Sorry, I didn’t meant that...”

“‘...yeah, you’re right,” you scoff, “I’m dumb for waiting five whole damn years’ because you wouldn’t fucking text me or call me to ask how I was doing!”

“Me?” he asks in disbelief, gawking and pointing an accusatory finger. “You wouldn’t even pick up your phone! I called you for a month after I moved!” 

“I couldn’t pay for my phone, alright?! I was living with my parents and scrambling to find a job, any fucking low wage job, and I couldn’t sit all day in my room waiting for your calls because I’m not born with a silver spoon stuck in my ass!” 

At this point, the conversation had somehow contorted into an all out brawl of words, a challenge to see who could blame the other for the unsaid confessions lost in communication. The two of you staring down the other, chest heaving and jaws clenching and brows knitting, if it weren’t for your fortunate location tucked in the hallway hidden from the main room, you would not have allowed yourself to fall, lost somewhere in the depth of his eyes. 

“Why are you so upset?” a weak, hopeless laugh tumbles from his confused, pained expression. “Aren’t you supposed to be happy for me?” 

“I—” something gets caught in your throat and you have to choke it out “—I am. I am happy for you. I’m not upset, no…”

Jin reaches a hand out to your cheek when he notices your tears but immediately retracts his notion when you flinch backwards. The boy frowns in concern, “Y/N… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. How did I upset you?”

“Nothing,” you frantically shake your head that hangs low, using the back of your hands to smear every sign of contradiction on your face. “I just—” your breath shakes and an impending series of hiccups begins to kick in “—I’m silly. I should be happy for my best friend. I mean, I am happy. I’m just being dumb.” 

“What?” Jin carefully takes a step forward. “No you’re not—”

“—I’m dumb, okay, Jin?” you finally muster the courage to lift your sights to find his own confused ones. “It’s been five whole years and I’m embarrassed for taking a joke of a promise so seriously when my best friend doesn’t even remember making it!” 

The scrunch in his brows and lost resolution only reverberate the deafening ache in your chest. “The promises…? Y/N, I—”

“—it’s fine,” you blurt. Shaking your head and stumbling backwards, you look him straight in the eyes to say your last words before the fading knocks of your heels against the wood are all that he hears. “It's my fault for believing in a foolish fairytale anyways.”

❀ ❀ ❀

It’s almost like a fever dream when you recall just how confidently you had spat those spiteful words and furthermore dared to depart with that sheer satisfaction and the slightest aftertaste of alcohol residing on your tongue that night; but now that you’re awake, sober, and without the power of liquor, there’s nothing that can pull you out of your greatest nightmare most recently manifested into reality. 

“Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that?” 

The incessant grumbles tumble freely from your lips whilst you pace back and forth in the corner of the office. Typically, your colleagues would describe you as composed, reserved, and the level-headed half of an otherwise wild pair with Alex. This morning, however, they begin to question everything they’ve ever known about you as they watch through the corner of their averting eyes. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone!” Alex hisses under her breath along with the threatening glares she shoots at the audience. Considering how long you’ve been going at your mental breakdown, it doesn’t take very long for your shuffling footsteps and mumbling gibberish to transcend into yet another white noise in the office; and once the majority of the passersby settle on the new revelation of your hidden crazed nature, Alex hastily storms to your side as you begin banging your head against the wall. “Why would you throw a tantrum at your best friend’s engagement party?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying…” you pause momentarily to groan before proceeding to damage whatever is left of your seemingly deteriorating brain. “Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do—”

“—not to mention, an ex best friend who never even knew about your unrequited feelings—”

—she comes to an abrupt stop when she finds the deadliest scowl in your dart-like eyes. No words are exchanged but the lethal consequences are clear enough to grant you her silence and the continuance of your destruction. 

“Why the hell did I do that, Alex?” you whimper, taking a break from your antics because, damn, your forehead is really starting to hurt. “Whyyyyyyy did you have to leave me alone? Maybe Jin wouldn’t have found me and I wouldn’t have had to confront him over something that shouldn’t even matter anymore! I-I barely even know him… it’s been five years and, suddenly, here I am, voila! At his engagement banquet, yelling in his face and getting mad over feelings that aren’t even his fault!” 

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol.”

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol,” you retort. Taking a deep breath, you let out a sigh along with the scowl plastered across your face. Your next words come out more as a helpless confession of fear than a rhetorical question to be answered. “Do you think he… hates me…?”

Alex observes you for a lingering second, perhaps contemplating between a merciful albeit exacerbating answer and a merciless albeit helpful answer. She speaks carefully, treading dangerous water, “well… would you like him to?”

“I don’t know,” you shut your eyes to heave yet another sigh because that weight in your chest refuses to leave you alone. An unapologetic swinging of the door and a series of loud, wide strided footsteps that follow have your brows furrowing and it takes everything in you and Alex, judging by the sudden shuffles you hear by your side, to finish the rare heart-to-heart conversation. “I think… I think if he hated me, maybe that would extinguish that part of me from the past. If he hated me, I would be able to get over it. Maybe I would hate him too, out of spite, but at least I would be able to get over—””

“—it…? Over what, Y/N?”

Over what? It takes you much longer than it should have for you to surmise the most probable answer to her question, an answer you were never willing to admit and an answer you aren’t quite sure you’re ready to admit even now. 

“You know what I’m implying, Alex,” you sigh, shutting your eyes even tighter when a rising heat marks your cheeks. “I want to get over—”

—but your words are cut short by a familiar voice that has your heart racing and striking an unprecedented strife in the mayhem that is your systemic state...

“You can’t possibly hate me, Y/N,” he proudly proclaims and you can practically hear him smiling, “no one ever hates Kim Seokjin.” 

...and when your eyes finally flutter open, you find the man, who had only seemed like a phenomenon of your feverish dream a second ago, standing before you and adorning that signature smile with raised cheek apples and crescent-like eyes that has yet to change under the influence of time and distance. 

“W-What are you doing here…?” you barely manage to utter. Eyes flickering around your surroundings, from Jin’s broad shoulders that shield nearly the entirety of a helpless albeit buoyant Alex, to your colleagues who fail to discreetly whisper over the lavishly suited mystery of a man, and finally back to the bouquet of pastel flowers wrapped with a bright pink bow. Brows furrowing, you struggle to organize your thoughts and even go so far as to check for the dent in your reddish forehead in a vain attempt to dispel the mind tricks. When the mirage before you fails to dissipate into thin air like sand, you slowly turn to face the wall again only to have your antics disrupted by his refreshingly cold hand on your burning forehead ; and when you turn, you find Jin’s mischievous smile growing wider by the second. “H-how do you know where I work…?”

“I’m your best friend, Y/N. Have you somehow forgotten after all that head banging?” Jin scoffs in disbelief, gawking with a chuckle. Suddenly, he leans in to grab your right hand firmly in his own, squeezing twice as he had always done and leading you toward the exit. “C’mon, let’s go recover those memories of yours, eh?” 

“Wait, wait,” you nearly stumble over your own feet at the pace he’s going, struggling to catch your breath when he bursts through the last door and a blast of freezing wind envelops the clash of the heat reverberating from your beating heart. “I have to go back! I still have work! And, and… and where in the world are you even taking me?” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Y/N, so many dumb questions for someone who always topped my grades,” the boy holds the bouquet of flowers out toward you, refusing to continue until you reluctantly accept his gift with your left hand against your chest. Smiling at your reluctant acceptance, Jin turns his back on you and proceeds to march into the parking lot but his now warm hands intertwined with your now cold hands never loosens its grip. 

It’s been a long five years of waiting to finally relish in the hold of his familiarly slim, often teased albeit self-praised double-jointed hands, but, now that you’re finally living in it, you’re sure it was all worth it… even if the crashing flames at the end of this road is an inevitable, foreseeable future.

“Jin,” you frown as you stare at Jin’s opening of the car door and gesture of an invitation, reluctantly seating yourself in his sumptuous car. “I failed half of my exams... remember?”

The boy’s laughs can still be heard even through the closed door as he makes his way around the car front, all whilst swinging the keys in his forefinger. His cackling steps an abrupt many levels of decibels higher when the opposing door opens and he plops into the driver seat. “That never stopped you from boasting, did it?” 

Without the flare of your usual clever quips, you purse your lips in silence and subconsciously hug the bouquet closer to your chest to keep his space as unoccupied by your presence. The sudden turn of events has your head spinning and your heart racing enough for the thumps to be felt by your hands. 

How did he find out where you worked? Where was he even taking you and what was he planning to do with you? Why was he acting as if you had not angered him just two nights ago? 

You don’t think you’ll be getting the answer any time soon, particularly the latter question, but when your stomach growls loudly, eliciting a crackle of a laugh from Jin, the awkward tension in your muscles eases ever so slightly. 

“...s-sorry… I skipped breakfast.”

“I know,” he puts the car into neutral at the red light and turns to peer at you with a smug look that says he could still read you like an open book, “because you always skip breakfast. I hid some pastry in the bouquet.” 

“What?” you scrunch your nose but immediately dive your scavenging hands into the flowers; and sure enough, you find your favorite cream-filled bread of his warm in your hands and you can’t stifle the smile that spreads on your lips. “Why would you even do that?”

“Well, in case you suddenly got really jacked and physically refused to come with me, then at least you would have something to eat.”

“No,” you giggle, “I meant why would you hide the bread in the bouquet…”

His eyes brighten like a lightbulb, as if only now recalling the genius plan he had crafted himself, “oh, because then you can sneak a bite without having to leave your desk! It always worked with our backpacks, didn’t it?” 

Your sights fall to the bouquet and you can only reply with a sheepish grin, “right… it sure did.”

The engine purrs to life again when the light turns green and the remainder of the car ride is filled with the smooth drift of his ride and the ceaseless albeit completely welcomed humming from his lips. The old Jin never had enough of an incentive to drive, although his parents always suggested gifting him a brand new car and you had begged him to take the offer out of boredom and a never-ending desire to escape far away from university, but something about this moment in time has you feeling cozy, belonging, and at home. It’s almost like it was meant to be. 

But the silver ring shining around his finger under the angle of the sun is a dreadful reminder that it isn’t. 

So, as a slap to yourself back into reality, you fracture this perfect moment you would have once framed in that hopeless mind of yours, “so… how did you find out where I worked?”

“Ah,” his right hand casually slips onto the back of your headrest. “Still haven’t figured out, rank 292?”

“No, I haven’t, rank 295.” 

“First,” he raises a finger, “I asked some people through the grapevines and eventually your friend Alex gave out.”

Grumbling under your breath, you curse, “damn it, Alex.”

“And second,” he raises another finger before proclaiming firmly, “I’m proving you wrong.” 

“Proving me wrong?” you articulate with a scoff. “You’re going to prove me wrong? Right, keep dreaming.”

“I’m not going to prove you wrong, I am proving you wrong," he insists before shifting the car to neutral and leaning in toward you, gaze brimming with conviction locked with your own wary ones, as if ready to spill a secret sworn by the two of you and hidden from the rest of the universe. 

He's close enough for his minty breath to graze your burning cheeks, to breathe a vigorous life previously unknown by your dull five years. Heart pumping and lungs barely working, daring not to budge for being caught under the sway of his gravitational force, you can hardly catch him when he finally speaks.

"I haven't forgotten, Y/N,” he utters, “I'm a man of my word."

❀ ❀ ❀

Promise one. 

"I'll cook every meal for you for an entire day."

Promise two. 

"I'll bring flowers to you at work."

His unabashed, overly detailed tactic to ask for your hand in marriage still echoes from a time long past. Hopes for those promises were weakened by each passing second but unequivocally unassailed at birth. Eventually, smothered and disheartened, you had been forced to cut ties and confront the reality of broken promises and broken dreams. You had once somehow convinced yourself things would never return to the ways they once were, and, yet, here he is having returned by your side and here you are enraptured by the utter joy in his laughs after all this wavering time. 

It's like a dream come true; and if this indeed all just a nightmarish dream bound to death, you wish you never swore allyship to this alcohol, for now your only wish is for it to succumb you into a deep, long slumber. 

“I toooooooold you I don’t like paaaaasta!” you whine, the drag of your voice manifesting in white puffs in the still chilly spring air. The sudden transition between the warmth of his house to the frozen world outside has you spiraling into a series of trips and stumbles; and as always, your best friend Jin is the only one to hold you up, which is a good thing considering how you would’ve been tumbling into the death trap of a river beneath this bridge. “So whyyyy did you make me pastaaaaaaa? Whyyyyyyy?”

“What? Why’re you blaming me?” he retorts, obviously taking offence. “You always loved pasta! You ate it every single day at uni!” 

“I diiiiid love pasta,” you say through barely parted lips, “but it’s all just… just carbs, carbs, carbssss…” 

“Since when did you care about carbs?” Jin frowns, poking your cheeks that lean against his sturdy arms. “Should I call the police?” 

Your brows furrow and you lift your head to narrow your eyes at him, “what? Why?” 

And as soon as those words slip from your lips and he raises his finger-gun hands, you wish you hadn’t asked in the first place. 

“Because I think you’re an impasta,” his finger guns transform into jazz hands after you stare at him in dumbfounded silence, “...badumtsss….”

A series of empty blinks are exchanged, as if neither of you had just witnessed his most tragic dad joke to date; and so, you swiftly continue with a sigh, “I think… I think I started caring ever since heee mentioned I was getting fat.”

“I can’t believe you just ignored my unprecedented joke…” he grumbles to himself but lets out a little huff when he catches you from tipping over. Wordlessly, he hooks his arm with yours to keep you close to him. “And this ‘he’ you mention, who’s he?” 

“Heee.” 

“Who? Who’s ‘heeee’?” he spouts with pouty lips and a raised chin, flailings his body, and therefore yours, about every which way like a toddler. “Who’s this man I have to beat up, huh? He better square up!”

“I don’t think you could beat him up…” you mumble, eyes heavy but determined enough to reach his own flabbergasted ones. “It’s Jooooon, dummy, Kim-Nam-Joon, the boy I shared my first kiiiiss with…”

“Kim Namjoon?!” his eyes widen. “You think I wouldn’t be able to beat up that nerd?!”

You almost manage to push Jin away the foot of the bridge if it weren’t for his firm lock around you. “Have you seen his muscles?! He might not look like it with his books and all but he worked out all the time!”

“Yeah, well,” his lips sputter, “well, have you seen my muscles?!”

“No—” you freeze when you realize the sturdiness of his arm against your head is existing proof against your word, and maybe it’s because of his obvious flexing at this moment, but you could not believe just how built his arms had grown in the past five years, “—and I don’t want to.” 

“Hah! You just don’t want to admit that I’m right. C’mon, I’ll show you. You feel it, huh? You feel it?” he flexes persistently, twisting and turning to maximize his little showcase. “So? You think I can beat him up now?” 

“Well…” your voice trails off, mind clearly preoccupied with sticking your cheeks to his arm like glue in a somewhat fruitful attempt to hide the flush in your face. “You don’t really need to beat him up…”

“What?” he almost yells. “Why not? He called you fat!”

“Well, he…” your shoulders rise with each confession, “he said one of my dresses looked tight on me…”

“And?”

“...and he wasn’t exactly wrong…”

“So?”

“...so he didn’t actually say anything offhandedly…”

“What? You should’ve told me earlier!” Jin exclaims, arms thrown high into the air and consequently pushing your helpless self onto the hillside grass beside the run of the river. Lips gaping and eyes popping, you watch him in full offense as he mumbles to himself before resuming his stroll down the hill. “And here I am getting worked up over nothing… can’t believe I thought I could play hero for once…”

“Hey, Jin, what do you mean by that?” you call out to him. “Wait! I said wait for me, Jin!”

When your rhetorical questions are answered with silence, you hasten to your feet in order to catch up with those damn wide strides of his. Damn it, how did he make it halfway down the hill already? Each of your exclamations are unsurprisingly disobeyed by the boy who just throws his head back over his shoulder with that cheeky grin of his as he quickened his pace. Following suit, your strides turn into a jog and your jogs turn into a full out sprint until the both of you are full on running the 100 meters dash, one chasing and one fleeing, wind blowing refreshingly into your heated face and into your tangled locks and inflated lungs that relish in the breath of life. 

In the midst of all the chaotic bliss of an epiphany, you find yourself screaming and laughing at the top of your lungs...

“Hey! Jin! I swear I”m gonna kick your ass!”

...and it’s at this moment in time that you realize having forgotten what it means to be a fool who lived and not to live to be a fool. 

At some point in time, after having caught up to the knucklehead and giving a piece of your mind, the two of you settle down along the concrete ledge beside the river after a jittery, welcomed high. The sunset that followed was a pleasant surprise that had you two reminiscing over the countless mornings and evenings you had spent watching the sun rise and set together whilst churning throughout tireless exam nights. Pink, golden streaks now hidden behind a thick coating of midnight blue embellished by magical glitters all throughout, tonight’s stargazing becomes a first for the two of you. 

As much as you hoped you could numb yourself from the inevitable aftereffects of this death wish of a dreamy day, you can’t help but smile, thankful to have been completely sober to engrave this night into memory. 

“So...” Jin’s utter is the first to break the silence. He turns his head to give you a playful look of eyes that beams with wary curiosity, “...you started dating Namjoon after I left?”

“Mm… maybe,” you hum, “why? Got a problem with that?”

“What? Psh, what? Why would I have a problem with that?” he snorts. “The only problem I would have is the fact that you never asked me for permission.”

Your eyes widen, almost threateningly, “are you saying I need permission from a man to date another man? Not to mention a man who abandoned me without warning!” 

“Okay, first of all, it’s not my fault you cancelled your phone plan! I called and called, I tried everything I could even though I was deadbeat tired every day. It’s not my fault I thought you hated my guts! So please just understand that I didn’t abandon you, alright?” he spills in an endless stream akin to a water faucet left on the highest setting, clearly a performance either practiced in private or incited by years of pent up pressure. You can practically see the steam shooting out of his fiery red ears and the accompanying whistle manifesting into words; and by the time his chest is heaving, his lungs are panting and very dramatically so, and his eyes flicker nervously between you and the passing water, you can’t help but snicker. Unsurprisingly, your lack of empathy elicits an unamused look on his face. “Hey, hey, what’re you laughing at, huh?” 

“Me? Oh, nothing,” your hands move into your laps and you bat your eyes innocently, “it’s just that I can’t believe you’re blaming me, a helpless, poor girl with absolutely no connections, for cancelling her phone plan as a last resort to make ends meet.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he warns with an accusatory finger, “don’t you dare think I’ll fall for that eye blinking and whatever cute act you’re playing up again!” 

“Why?” you pout, almost cringing at your own antics. “Am I not cute?”

“No, you’re hurting my eyes. Plus, if anyone’s cute here,” he declares adamantly before puffing his cheeks and poking one with his forefinger, “it’s me.”

The both of you stare at the other for a stagnant few seconds, one completely dedicated to his performance and the other utterly flabbergasted by what plays out before her. 

The only word you manage to crank out is a, “uh…”

“What do you think?” he raises another finger to poke his other cheek. “I practiced just for you.” 

“Um… you’re 27 now, Jin.”

“So?” he tilts his head in the other direction. “Still 22 and young at heart.”

“Yeah? Then I’m still 22 and still equally disgusted by aegyo—” just as he parts his lips to provide another rebuttal, you quickly add in “—by your aegyo.” 

And just like that, the man drops his boyish character just as quickly as he had stepped into it. He mumbles, dropping his hands and shooting an equivocate look at you, “okay, tough crowd. Sorry, ma’am.”

It shouldn’t have been that hilarious nor should your response been so delayed, but it only takes a split second of his surrender for a thunderous cackle to slip from your lips. Throwing your head back and peering at the dangling stars above, you allow yourself a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath of the incoming wind. The fresh petrichor of spring and the earthiness of mowed grass whisks themselves into the cold, clean breeze from the vast body of water. Thin locks of hair grazes across your cheeks, swaying in the wind as does your spirit. Years are lifted from your shoulders and all that is left is the heaviness that remains in your chest; nevertheless, you have never felt so free from the past. 

“Also,” he adds nonchalantly, cocking his head to look at you, “I wasn’t speaking from the position of a man. I was speaking as a best friend. As your best friend.” 

And just like that, sitting side by side and sharing a cool breeze, it’s almost as if all these moments of remorse, spilled tears, and unreleased frustration were made to build the climax to this grand finale: the night you can finally speak your truth. 

“It’s funny how things never change, huh?” you say when your eyes flutter open and you find Jin looking over with a fondness identical to the one you’ve spotted years before. “We can split for five years, thinking one hates the other’s guts, and reunite again as best friends… as if nothing had ever happened.”

Jin chuckles, hands grabbing to the ledge and head lolling back to join you but his eyes remain fixated on you, “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Are we vampires and we just don’t know it?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure either… not sure about the good thing and not the vampire thing, that is,” your laugh settles into silence when you spot the reflected light inflicted by the ring around his finger, sitting on the ledge just an inch away from yours. Close enough to touch but far enough to confirm an unequivocal truth. Sighing, you turn your head to meet his intent gaze with a bittersweet upturn to your lips, “normally, I really despise the idea of change; but lately, when I think about how things might never change between us, how we’ll always banter as a pair of stupid best friends, I start wanting it more than ever.”

Is this the moment? Is it all really happening right now? Judging by the course of your blithe actions, if change is what you’re looking for, then change is what will surely ensue after tonight. Whether for the good or for the worse, you’ll take a reluctant guess of the latter. 

The man scrunches his brows before playing it off with a nervous laugh, “what do you mean things haven’t changed? You dated Namjoon, probably got it on a few times here or there—”

“—what—”

“—please don’t confirm,” he butts in with a raised hand, “and I have, too. Sure things have changed!”

“Ooh?” you raise a brow, genuinely shocked. “You finally got some experience under your belt? I’m impressed, Mr. Kim.”

“Hey,” he scolds, “what do you mean by ‘impressed?’” 

“Well, I should’ve known… figuring you’re about to be a married man and all…” you mumble, forcing a smile despite the sudden dip in your mood. Turning your head to stare off into the opposite end of the river where the black silhouette of skyscrapers lie, you curse yourself mentally. You really thought you could get away with the inevitable truth for the entire day? “You know, I can’t believe I almost forgot that you’re getting married in less than a week. Almost like how I couldn’t believe you almost forgot our promises.”

“I told you Kim Seokjin is a man of his words.”

“You sure about that? Promise one: cook for me for an entire day. Check. Promise two: gift me flowers at work. Check,” you turn around once again to look him firmly in the eyes and it’s almost as if the both of you know what’s about to come next. “What about the three other promises, Kim Seokjin?” 

“Y/N…” his voice trails off but his gaze never leaves yours, almost as if too afraid to be misconstrued as another betrayal. 

Quick-mindedly, you chime, “stop looking at me so seriously! I’m just joking! Promise three: you won’t break my heart. How could you after a wonderful day like this? Promise four: you won’t forget our promises. Clearly, you remember. And promise five: you’ll keep all your promises. Check.”

“Y/N,” he stifles every wince but you can tell by the way his feet have stopped kicking into the void. “I don’t think I’ve kept all those promises.” 

“Well,” you shrug, pressing your lips into a line tightly, “I only see checks in my book, Jin. You’re good to go—”

“—no, Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he says sternly; and when your mouth falls agape and your head slightly nods, his wary eyes searching for a steady sign in the windows to your soul, he continues calmly, “my marriage is actually an arranged marriage.”

“Your—” you blink blankly, jaw almost falling to the floor “—your, you, what?”

An arranged marriage. 

All this time, all this pain, all this heartbreak of wanting to do something about your feelings but remaining hopeless because of an unrequited love… turns out to be an active, fully conscious decision? Not a falling out of love, not a helpless affection for another woman, but a matchmaking handcrafted without the heavens?

“My,” he has to stop himself just as his breath hitches, “my father... arranged it. ” 

“What? Why? Is it because he prefers you with a well off family?” 

“What? No,” he shakes his head with a slight upcurve to his lips that you’ve never quite seen before. Watching him hook a hand to the nape of his neck, clearly avoiding your eyes, you have an inkling of something much worse than the presented news. “You know my father would never do that… it has nothing to do with money...”  

“But you left this town for money, didn’t you? For a better job, a better pay, a better life, and for the sake of your dignity as a dutiful son, are you telling me none of those were related to money?” 

His eye twitches by your name-calling, clearly pained once again despite knowing very well of your precedent dislike toward his silver spoon background and his nonnegotiable obedience. Each second of silence culminates a tension even more formidable than the last. Guilt intoxicates your boiling blood enough for you to bite your tongue and hold yourself back; because after accusing him of holding onto his dignity, you, yourself, could not forfeit that of your own either. 

Worse yet, you’re a complete hypocrite. 

“Why can’t you just tell him to call it off?” 

You never knew silence could be so deafening.

“So… so do you...” you begin hesitantly. Usually, with your eyes locked with his, a thousand words would have been exchanged with each passing second; but now, with gazes that wade through the tides of the unknown, for the first time ever, you don’t recognize the mystery before you. “Do you... love her?” 

His lips part slowly, but no time in the world would be enough for him to find the right words. To you, his silence is as clear as any possible answer. Something sinks in you, perhaps after acknowledging the implications behind his choice to leave your question unanswered, but your blood boils from the audacity of those apologetic eyes that, even now, never stray from yours… as if this minute of sincerity would be enough to mend the inevitable decade of scars. 

You begin slowly, failing to hide the shakiness of your deep breaths, “...then what about the baby?”

“What baby...?” his face contorts with a frown until, out of the blue, something flickers across his numerous expressions: confusion, remembrance, contemplation. His hesitation that ensues might have been fleeting but its infliction upon your shattered trust will surely remain. “Oh, that… that was just a rumor my aunt spread because of the sudden marriage.” 

“And,” you force yourself to breathe, scattering for something, anything to throw at him, “and you don’t think you could’ve told me sooner?”

The man scrunches his brows, “and that would’ve helped, how?” 

“‘How?’” you repeat, as if it was the dumbest question you had ever heard. Mirroring his expression, your eyes avert between him and the river as scoffs of utter disbelief escape you. “‘How?’ What do you mean ‘how?’”

“I mean exactly that!” his voice suddenly escalates to a level of frustration you’ve never quite heard from him before. “How would it have changed anything? Why would you need to know earlier?”

Gawking, you exasperate desperately, “you know why!” 

“No, I might be your best friend but don’t expect me to just read your mind!”

“It’s cause...” you swing your leg over the ledge to face the sidewalk with your back on Jin as soon as you could feel an incoming constriction at the back of your throat, a notorious sign shared just between the two of you that waterworks were about to appear. Breathing slowly and doing just about everything to keep your voice from shaking, and fruitlessly so, you mumble before standing to your feet, “...you know what? I don’t even know anymore. I’m sorry. Nevermind.”

Why did you ever think you would have a chance? 

Is this it? Is this really it? The end? 

The questions come crashing into you as you make your retreat, head hanging low and palms drying the inconvenient tears that mark your face. After all the confidence you had built up, after finally thinking—actually, believing—you could get over him tonight, how humiliating is it that you’re now running away from a reality that would eventually and inevitably engulf you? 

The worst part of it is, Jin, like the best friend and good man that he is, persists to chase after you. You don’t have to hear the quickened footsteps of his usual wide, well-paced strides to know he’s coming. You don’t have to hear the calls he makes on the top of his lungs for you to know he’s on his way. 

As someone who so helplessly fell in love with their best friend, you just know he would be there through thick and thin—whether you like it or not. 

“Y/N!” Jin hollers; and when he finally catches up to you, having to sprint and consequently inciting for you to surrender with an abrupt stop to your path, every bit of air is knocked from your lungs. Arms wrapping over your waist and enveloping you into a tight hug, you can feel his heart pounding against your back. 

To most, it should have been the perfect method to comfort a crying friend; so, damn it, why does it only make you cry harder? 

“What?” your voice cracks as you just barely manage to smear the following tears within the wrap of his bear hug. “Damn it, Jin, why can’t you leave me alone for once?”

Head resting on yours, his voice is muffled by your hair as he murmurs, “I can’t just leave my best friend crying like that. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry.” 

He embraces you. He embraces you not only physically through the silence but also through the emotional rollercoaster that comes with it. He, Kim Seokjin, your best friend, holds you through the ups and downs and the rights and the wrongs. He even holds you now, comforting you in the hurricane that you brewed without ever knowing and never caring that he had, in fact, not committed any wrongdoing. If anything, you must be in the wrong. 

And when you put it that way, how could you blame yourself for falling in love with him?

“Jin… I’m sorry, I tried everything to stop myself but,” your voice shakes but your courage prospers, “but I just, I just really, really love you.” 

A second passes. 

Now, two. 

Then, three. 

Something strikes against your chest when the surreality of the situation settles into reality. His silence could mean many things, but the tightening of his embrace could only mean one. Blood flushes your cheeks as you lament over his sensation of your fervent heartbeats. Secrets thrown out into the spring air, your heated cheeks are equally exposed to the passing, chilly zephyr. 

He knows you love him. At this moment, he can physically feel the proof of your love and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

“Sorry,” you manage to blurt under your breath, “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said—”

—the remaining words dissipate into thin air when he places his hands firmly on your shoulder and whirls you around. Face just inches away from his, you barely catch wind of his declaration before the unthinkable occurs…

“Too late. I don’t want to.”

...and his lips meet yours. 

It’s everything you have ever imagined. Years of admiring those plush lips, wondering what it would be like to feel the warmth of those wonders pressed against yours, are finally coming to fruition… except they don’t. His hands fall from your shoulders to the small of your back, but your hands don’t intertwine behind the back of his neck like you imagined. Instead, they hover in midair, hesitant to embrace him in your arms. Why? With your eyes and his fluttered closed and an audible deep sigh that signals a desire finally satisfied from the both of you, reality still manages to twist a dream-come-true. 

Does he actually love you or does he only pity you?

Finally, and ever so suddenly, your hands firmly push against his chest to plant an arm’s distance from you and him.

“Sorry…” you pant, avoiding those intense eyes. “We… we can’t do this.” 

“What?” Jin raises a brow, taking a step forward as you take one back. “Why not?”

Wordlessly, you point at his ring finger.

“Oh,” he chuckles nervously, hand scratching the back of his neck. You can only watch his every move, your stare gradually becoming a glare. Rosy hues coloring his cheeks, he speaks sheepishly, “I forgot we’re in public.”

His nonchalance irks you to your core. There isn’t any other way to put it. Blithe and dense have always been your favorite traits of his, but now that he’s here? Planting buds he could never sustain and sending mixed signals despite knowing of your feelings in an unfitting circumstance were never things you knew Jin for.  

“I-I don’t get it, Jin,” you shake your head. “I don’t think we should see each other any more. In any context. Not even after the wedding.” 

With his hands buried into his pockets and shoulders high enough to hide his reddened ears, he glances up at you, alert. “What? Why? What don’t you get?”

“It’s ‘cause... I just don’t get… this. I don’t get us,” you articulate, struggling to find the right words. “Why are you so… nonchalant about this? Why are you kissing me? Is it out of pity? Is it because I said I liked you—”

“—Y/N,” he says lowly like the drop of his previously cheerful mien, “you know I would never do something like that.” 

“Then why?! Why are you doing this to me? Do you love her or not?” you pause for a second to stifle the crack in your voice but, alas, all is in vain. “...and do you even… love me?”

He frowns, the tension in his body evident by the knitting of his brows as he struggles, “I… Y/N...”

“So you can’t admit that you love her and you can’t even lie to say you love me. So why the hell are you throwing away an entire marriage just to kiss me?” your scoff comes out more so like a plea. “You’re confusing me, Jin—”

“—that’s,” he abruptly pauses to stop himself from exploding, taking a deep breath before continuing, “that’s exactly why I can’t say it, Y/N! I don’t want to confuse you. I don’t want to disappoint my father. I-I don’t want to complicate matters more!”

“Then why the hell did you kiss me?!”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know! It was a spur of the moment! I couldn’t stop myself from chasing after you and when I hugged you—I-I just wanted to, alright? I’m sorry.”

He’s... sorry. 

Sorry for kissing you, sorry for acting as if your feelings had been reciprocated, sorry for breaking all the promises he made and pretending like he was going to patch things up again tonight. Speaking your mind and hearing his words are all that you need to finally understand what you need to do. Your heart drops but you hold your head high because your final verdict is the right thing to do. Maybe this time you’ll finally be able to cease these useless feelings. What's the point in pursuing a hopeless love? 

The only one you would be hurting is yourself. 

This epiphany, in itself, is enough to drape an ephemeral clarity over your frenzic self; and just like a bandaid over a scar, you’re able to function, if only just temporarily.

“Hey, Jin?” you call out softly to the boy kicking at nothing on the bare sidewalk. It’s hard not to melt under the delicate glance he throws over his shoulder. “I’m not… mad. Well, I kind of am. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry for everything that I said about your upbringing. I know how close you are to your family. I’m sure you’ve been under a lot of pressure…”

“No, Y/N,” he shakes his head, turning his body to face you with a low hanging head, “it’s my fault. Even considering all that, I still shouldn’t have done that or any of this. I… I’m sorry for confusing you.”

Forcing a composed smile, you persevere, “do you have your fiance’s number?”

Head lifting with a frown, he answers, “yeah, what kind of a fiance would I be if I didn’t? Why though?”

“Right,” you say to yourself under your breath, hearing his ‘fiance’ echo relentlessly in your head. “I just need it, okay? To… to sort out everything...”

And just when you wonder how insensitive could this boy get...

“What?” he chuckles. “Are you going to fight for me?”

...it gets worse.

Rolling your eyes, you give him a hard, well-deserved slap against the chest before snickering at his loud wince and declaring your one last confession of the night. 

“No, I could fight for us, but I won’t singlehandedly fight for you,” you then declare with a bitter smile, “I will, however, tell her how jealous I am.”

And that's your most irrefutable confession, one that has Jin stupefied for the future midnights to come.

❀ ❀ ❀

Morning arrives much sooner than you had anticipated. White puffs mark the air whilst you wrap yet another layer of scarf around your neck. It seems as though the breeze from a night ago had intentionally danced around town, lingering and spectating on the resolution of your five year long love conundrum. Ironically enough, the two of you reunite at the very spot where everything had first started… except this time, everything will finally end.

The pain he had marked in you inflicted by the words he could not bring himself to say still stains your every waking second.

“You have to do this. You can do this,” you incessantly chant to yourself, pacing back and forth beside the most prominent cherry blossom tree in town. “You have to do this. You can do this—”

“—Y/N, is that you?”

What you presume to be Youngji’s voice perks your ears. Looking up, you spot her holding a phone in her hands as she flickers between you and her screen. A quizzical quirk of the brow plasters across your face as you wave at her and she jogs over to you as quickly as she could in that pink, wool poncho and those tan, fluffy boots. “Hey, Youngji, right?” 

“Yeah,” she says in between each pant of breath, “that’s me.” 

Her hands immediately find refuge on her knees whilst she bends over to catch her breath. Typically, you’re the very self-aware type, but there isn’t anything you could do to stop yourself from staring. The girl strikes you as… flamboyant. With her dark red pigtails, bright smile, and dainty attire, she’s everything you’ve always imagined a female version of Jin would be like. It’s hard not to wonder… maybe an arranged marriage really can be a match made in heaven, but you force yourself out of that rabbit hole before having another breakdown in front of an innocent stranger. 

The tang of jealousy, however, refuses to budge. 

“Sorry, for,” she pants, holding her hand up to show you her phone screen, “calling out to you like that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you squint at the sight of the screen displaying a candid photo of you, taken on this very street on that very day, as you stuffed one of his breads in your mouth. Drawn on your face is a mustache and a unibrow. “Did Jin do—”

“—Jin gave me a terrible reference photo.” 

Scoffing, you cross your arms, “damn it, Jin.”

Youngji crackles into a firework of uncontrollable laughter, rendering you stupefied. After a literal minute passes by, she finally manages to speak in between the bursts of giggles that follow, “you two—” giggle “—really are—” giggle “—close, huh?” And as a grand finale, she slaps her stomach with a loud sigh of relief that her laughs have come to an end. When she notices you staring at her bewilderedly, a light bulb flashes through her as she gasps and feigns a whimper, “o-oh! Ow! M-my baby!”

“You know you don’t have to pretend, right?” you can only let out a laugh of disbelief because you still can’t take in the mirror image your best friend. “Jin already told me about the fake pregnancy.” 

“Oh, in that case,” she smiles widely before giving her stomach one more big, satisfying slap, “see, you guys really are so close!” 

“I… I guess. I’m not sure if taking me out for one day after five years of radio silence really counts as close, though,” you then quickly add in with raised hands, “he only did so out of obligation, though! I swear it was nothing more!”

“Hmmm?” she hums, leaning in a curious ear with a cheshire-like smile. “Is it because of those promises he made?”

“...yeah, wait, he told you about those?” 

Of course he did, idiot, they’re engaged. 

“Well, something like that,” she shrugs, “so how much did he tell you?”

“About?” 

“About the wedding, silly!” 

“Uh, nothing much really. The pregnancy was a false rumor, the marriage was arranged by his father…”

“Father?” she inquires, watching you closely with those big, round eyeballs of hers. 

“Yes?” you hesitantly nod. “Father?” 

“Ah,” she nods, as if she finally catches drift of something, “I see.” 

“Oh yeah,” you add, “I also found out it’s on my birthday.”

“What?!” her eyes grow wider, if they even possibly can. “Jin never told me that! What the heck, man? A wedding? On his best friend’s birthday?!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know right?” you nod passively before coming to an abrupt stop. “Wait, what? Why does it matter to you?”

“Of course it matters to me! You’re Jin’s best friend, aren’t you? You have no idea how much he talks about you back home. I know you so well that sometimes I feel like you might be my best friend,” she chimes before reaching out to cup your hands in hers. “Let’s celebrate properly with Jin after the wedding, okay?” 

“Um, sure…”

But you don’t exactly plan on unnecessarily sticking around his life for any longer than the wedding… except, seeing how close she must be with Jin in addition to her loose-lip impression, you decide not to tell her that. 

“So,” she drops her hands to the side, “what did you need to tell me?” 

Why did you call her to meet you here again? After witnessing her flamboyant entrance, it’s hard for you to keep yourself from derailing. 

“Oh, um,” you scratch the back of your head awkwardly, “I just wanted to meet my best friend’s fiance, that’s all.”

“Ahhh, I see.”

The woman pauses, nodding at you intently almost as if waiting for the real intentions to be revealed. Damn it, either you’re a literal open book or she reincarnated from the same soul as Jin’s. 

“So…” you purse your lips. “Are you okay with it? The arranged marriage, I mean?” 

“Well,” she shrugs, finally dropping the smile from her lips. “At first I hated the thought of it. I felt like I didn’t really have a choice, but… when I met Jin—” a smile is hinted in the corner of her lips and in the sparkle of her eyes “—I thought ‘I’m pretty lucky girl, aren’t I?’ I think the world must have finally taken pity on me.”

A soft, stifled laugh slips from you as your eyes fall to the ground and a bittersweet smile accompanies your lips, “yeah, you’re pretty lucky.” 

“Don’t get me wrong though,” your eyes immediately shoot up to find her raising defensive hands, “it wasn’t some sort of a love at first sight. He’s handsome, sure, but—”

“—a marriage is a lifelong commitment—”

“—exactly,” she sighs, “I didn’t really know him, but when I was forced to spend time with him… I thought if I had to get married, then he would be the best option. He’s not a bad guy.” 

“No,” you smile in your reverie, shaking your head, “he's not a bad guy at all; and when you really get to know him, his stupid dorky self, I think it’s impossible not to fall for him.” 

“Yeah?” 

“He’s mean when he jokes around but he’s actually very kind, he’s sensitive when you poke him where it hurts but he hides it deceptively well, he’ll apologize for being wrong when the both of you clearly know you’re in the wrong, he’ll cook and wear the hottest pink clothes he can find because ‘to hell with societal norms,’ he’ll tell you the dumbest dad jokes but I promise you’ll get used to them eventually, ” you let out a reminiscent laugh that comes out more like a sigh, “and, sometimes, very rarely, he’ll hurt you unintentionally, of course, but he’ll always go out of his way to make it up because that’s just… that’s Jin. That’s my best friend.” 

A breeze passes by to perfectly mark the end of your cadence. Branches rustle above you and freshly budded cherry blossom petals flutter their way toward the grass underneath the two of you only to be risen once again by a following zephyr. Having been there throughout his and your lives, it’s almost as if the long-standing tree is agreeing to attest to your words. 

“Wow,” Youngji finally says after witnessing your truthful albeit embarrassing spoken love letter, “I… I wouldn’t doubt any of it… but why are you telling me? Shouldn’t you be telling Jin?” 

“I’m telling you, because,” you emphasize, “because I'm jealous of your position but I can't do anything about it so I want you to take good care of Jin. I just… I need to know he’ll be in good hands. I want him to be loved like the way that he loves. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

Youngji just nods. It’s the most somber response you’ve ever seen from her. Almost like the joining of hands in marriage has finally become reality. 

“Do you…” you struggle to squeeze out of the knot in your throat, “do you love him…?” 

“Y/N—” she begins but suddenly lets go of whatever she must have had planned “—yes, yes I do.” 

“And… you’ll take care of him?” 

Youngji bobs her head lightly, “yes, I will.”

“Promise?” 

“...promise.”

“Okay, then I’m entrusting him to you, and,” you smile, leaning forward to shake her hands before heaving one last sigh, “and this time, please keep the promise.” 

❀ ❀ ❀

A curse sinks into the thickness of the sapphire dusk that quickly descends upon the hushed city. Keys tinkle to decorate the silence of tonight’s resting wind, a silence that would have been accompanied by an equally passive woman and an oblivious man whose hands persist to fumble to his guest’s dismay. 

Standing before a small willow, vintage-looking store tucked away in the corner of downtown, an inaudible breath ascends a cloud of white that momentarily shrouds the grand interior peeking from spotless windows that line the exterior. Golden warm studio lights illuminate the gorgeously exquisite ivory gowns from the trailing trains up to its waterfalls of dainty veils. Velvet suits and satin neckties accompany each headless mannequin, welcoming each passerby to imagine themselves in their wildest fairytales… your hand in his and his in yours as a fleeting moment becomes a sealed promise of a lifelong loyalty. 

Breath completely taken away, you, yourself, almost fall prey to your own far-fetched dreams. 

“I thought I said we shouldn’t meet up anymore,” your forced mutters drag you from your short-lived reveries, “why did you bring me here?”

“You said we shouldn’t meet up anymore, yet here you are,” Jin chirps before cheering to himself under his breath once the key finally clicks into place, “yes! Old man must have purposely given me these rusty old keys.”

Crossing your arms, you retort, “I came because you said your close friend from home would be here, too.”

Turning around to face you with his back to the door and a hand on the golden knob, he raises a quizzical brow, “and… are you not my close friend from home?” 

“I thought you meant the other—”

“—this is my home, Y/N,” he says firmly, looking straight at you, “and I want my best friend to see me in my wedding suit before anyone else.” 

“But why me…?”

“Because I only care about your opinion.”

He answered without hesitation, but in your head you figure he must have forgotten about Youngji, the true spotlight of the show.

Gritting your teeth, a staredown begins between the two of you; but the longer you face those unequivocal looks of determination in his eyes, the hotter your cheeks become in the middle of a contrastingly chilly night.  

“Alright, fine.” 

“Thanks,” he gives you a small, lopsided smile before pushing the door open with his back and ushering you in with a slight bow, “ladies first.”

Your eyes roll but not for very long when you step foot into the store and your mouth falls agape. The ceiling is much higher than you had perceived from outside, the sides are lined with grand, wooden staircases that lead to a second floor where hundreds upon hundreds of white dresses and black suits find purchase along the hangers, and the click of your heels against the marble tiles of the entrance floor echo into the extravagant expanse. 

The wooden insulation of the store proves infallible when the door closes behind Jin and the shrewd air leaves you to a much more bearable surrounding. Standing affixed to the entrance, you watch as Jin strides toward the carpeted floor where a taupe curtain hanging from the ceiling drapes over a raised platform sits across its partner platform in the opposite of the room. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so enraptured by something aside from me,” Jin chuckles as he begins stripping the suit off of a black, velvety mannequin before pointing at the mannequin standing beside the opposite platform, “oh, why don’t you try on some dresses while I’m at it?” 

“What?” you scoff, finally taking a step onto the carpet. “First off, I never stared at you like that before. Second, why the hell would I do that? It’s your wedding, not mine.” 

“I asked the store owner for permission and picked a dress for you to try on,” he continues, finally stopping in the midst of unbuttoning his white, collared shirt when he looks up to find the fear in your eyes. “Hey, haven’t you always wanted to try one of these?”

“Yeah,” you laugh in disbelief because he actually listened to your past rambles, “but never under these circumstances.”

“C’mon, you never know if you’ll ever have a chance like this again,” he gestures once more when he notices the start of your contemplation, “c’mon, go on!”

You really don’t want to. It’s that nagging feeling of something going completely wrong tonight if you were to succumb and let yourself go. After all, your worst fear is yourself. It doesn’t feel right and you begin to wonder if it’s alright for you to hold onto this moment you’ve always dreamed about: dolling up and swearing your vows side by side with Jin. 

If you were to live out your fairytale, just for tonight, would you finally be able to sleep dreamlessly at night? 

“...fine,” you groan and storm across the room, tossing your purse into the ruby sofas and stepping onto the platform. Turning around to face a gleeful Jin, you’re about to scowl at him until your eyes flicker between the cheeky grin on that youthful face and those sculpted abdomen of his elevated by the lighting above. Cheeks flushing red, you gulp at the unseen sight before clutching the curtain in your hands and swinging it closed with a mumble, “and at least have some decency and use the curtains, God damn it…”

The freezing touch of your hands doesn't hold a candle to the heat of your face. Trying to calm your racing heart, you curse to yourself at the way he merely cackles at you and, even worse, the way your heart intensifies in response. 

“Yes, ma’am!” 

“...shut up,” you say more to yourself and your deafening heart.

The gown standing before you, however, is no help to your case either, for when you glance over the dress, the long train that could awe an entire room, the complimenting silhouette that doesn’t scream too over-the-top but enough to fulfill the little girl within you, and the classic lace sleeves that you’ve gushed over whilst skimming through magazines, you realize Jin had always been attentive even when he was stuffing his face with bread or even when he was being petty over an argument and you tried to rectify with incessant small talk. 

It’s at this moment that you acknowledge the rabbit hole you had just willingly fallen into and the impossibility of its towering escape.

“So,” Jin calls out to you as the sound of rustling clothes fill the silent air, “what do you want for your birthday tomorrow?”

“My birthday? Oh, right,” you slam palm to your forehead, having dwelled over the marriage and consequently forgetting your own birthday. “Uh, nothing really. I haven’t really thought about it this year.” 

“Really? You? Y/N? Not planning her own birthday?” he gasps. “Who are you and what did you do to Y/N?”

“Oh, shut up. With age comes other problems to deal with...”

...problems like you.

“C’mon,” he chuckles. “You have to have something. You can’t tell me you’ve gotten every single thing checked off of that old ‘birthday gift ideas’ list you gave me.”

“I mean… I wouldn’t say I’m very far from it and it’s not like you were actually going to give me everything I asked for. Say, what did I even have on that list?” your eyes wander to the towering curtains that envelop you as your hands reach behind to the buttons on your back. “A bowl of your tofu soup, some pocket money, a matching sweater, a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a… ring.” The word slips from your lips and it floats in the stagnant air before you can even do anything about it. His silence rings in your ears, so you quickly add in, “but I don’t want materialistic stuff like that anymore.” 

“...oh, really?” 

“Nope,” you heave a heavy sigh and pat the poofy material of the skirt down, “I think I’ve come to realize that… I just want to be loved. I don’t need a dress or a necklace or a ring…  you wouldn’t understand, but I don’t just want to hear those words. I want to feel them. I want to be loved.” 

But only by him.

A lingering silence drifts long enough for you to start panicking until, finally, he answers, “no, I understand.” 

“...well,” you quickly chirp as you fumble with the lacey material of your dress, “enough about me, what do you want for your big day, hm?”

“Why would I need a present from you?” he remarks. You can hear him finishing his final touches and you can barely stop your heart from leaping out of your chest. “You’ve given me enough already.”

“You mean I’ve given you enough earfuls and tears,” you retort, clutching onto the curtains as you shut your eyes to muster every courage within you. “Isn’t there anything I can give you? Anything you want?”

Counting down to yourself, the curtains and drawn open in one, swift swing; and when your eyelids flutter open, you find him standing on the platform across from you, dressed in a classic black and white suit with the curtains clutched in his hands like a mirror image of you. He glances over you from head to toe, as you do to him, until the both of you settle in each other’s gazes for what seems like an eternity, willingly lost and ever-so-enraptured.

You almost forget this isn’t actually your wedding.

“This,” he answers with a soft smile, “this is enough.”  

“...stop it.”

JIn frowns, “stop what?”

“Stop… looking at me like that,” you articulate, hands covering your bashful grin. “It’s making me feel self-conscious.” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault I have such a good eye at picking clothes for you!” he says whilst pointing an accusatory finger. “I guess 22 year old Jin had a pretty good sense of fashion after all.” 

“You picked this five years ago…?” 

The man shrugs but his high chin says otherwise regarding his humility, “I told you Kim Seokjin is a prepared man of his word.” Eyes peering across to wink at you, he continues a bit more seriously, “I might not be able to fulfill all of our promises, but this is the closest I can to it.” 

“Jin… you’re…” you laugh in disbelief, bashfully avoiding his intent gaze, “...you’re so incredibly stupid that I can feel it from all the way here.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he grins mischievously and takes a step toward you and off the platform. “How about now?”

“Stop it, don’t spread your stupidity to me.”

He spreads his arms out wide whilst taking another few steps forward, “why not? Aren’t we supposed to be together through thick and thin?”

“No, not really,” you adamantly shake your head amidst a hysterical fit of giggles, “don’t come any closer.” 

“Oh, no,” he feigns worry. Another footstep. “I can’t stop myself.” He approaches even closer. “The stupidity is spreading!” 

With him just a footstep away, you cower behind the shield of your hands, “stop it, stop looking at me like that—”

—and just as you squeal, his arms wrap around you to pull you into a tight embrace.

Like two lost puzzle pieces, his hands fit perfectly in the small of your back and his chin rests comfortably in the crook of your neck. His hair grazes against your burning cheeks. His scent envelops you into a rosy haze. He could probably feel the beat of your chest against his, but you wouldn’t know when you’re preoccupied by the thuds of his own. You had never been aware of the lonesome emptiness you’ve felt all these years until now, under the warmth of his touch that completes your other half. 

You almost forget to breathe until he takes a deep breath and lets out a slow, dreary sigh. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Under any other circumstances, you would have smacked him for lying. Perhaps it’s the stir of the starry skies or the impending occasion or even the look he made on his way to you with a gaze that oozed with absolute adoration, but something tells you he’s being his genuine self tonight… and that’s what you fear the most. 

“You shouldn’t be saying that, Jin,” you say, stroking his head buried in your shoulder, “and you shouldn’t be looking at any women but Youngji with those eyes.” 

Whether he’s quietly reflecting or stubbornly disagreeing, Jin remains silent. His breath entangles with yours, syncing with the wavelengths that you two have been running for an ongoing seven years and, perhaps, beyond. 

He frustrates you to your wits’ end. There’s nothing he hasn’t made you question. At times, when you’re tossing and turning in bed and hoping for a way out of that cavern of a mind, you wish time could skip to a year in which the voices no longer haunt you at night; and yet, when you’re here buried in his arms, you would do anything to freeze and relish this fragment in time. 

It isn’t right. You two aren’t right and you know it isn’t right… but how do you deny yourself of the cure to those deep scars when he, himself, wishes to be downed? 

It takes everything in you to finally drop your hands from his locks to his shoulder. Just as you’re about to deny the tempting elixir, Jin lifts his head along with his gaze that now meets yours, “Y/N, I have something I need to tell you.”

“...y-yeah?” 

The windows to his soul twinkle underneath the dim chandeliers above. Those starry dark brown eyes simply take your breath away.

“My dad,” his voice quivers like the water that wells in his eyes; and when you know he’s about to bawl, you pat his head ever-so-endearingly. Gulping, he finds the courage to continue, “he’s sick.” 

“Oh... oh, Jin,” you murmur, quickly wiping the few tears that drop onto his flush cheeks before bringing him into another tight embrace. “I’m sorry.” 

“I only moved—” and that’s what cracks his buoyant front into a full on bawl  “—I only moved to take care of him!”

“I understand.” 

He shakes his head, “I didn’t want to abandon you!” 

“No, Jin, I know,” your voice is buried underneath his whimpers, “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“I didn’t know things would turn out like this!” he cries, holding you even closer. “I didn’t know!” 

“It’s okay, Jin. Really, it’s okay. It’ll be okay.” 

“No, it won’t be okay,” his voice hitches in the midst of his hiccups, “my father is dying and now I’m walking down the aisle with a woman I don’t even love!” 

Your strokes come to a temporary stop because how could fate be so twisted? Who is it to decide whose time shall begin and whose time is up? You have to hold your breath along with the waterworks that sour your eyes. You can’t cry now. He needs your stability.

He needs you. 

“Did you…” you take a shaky breath, leaning back to watch him cover the messy state of his face, “did you tell your dad?”

“I-I couldn’t,” he stutters, voice muffled by his voice, “you know how long he’s been waiting for this.”

I know,” you ponder for a second before hesitating to continue, “...why didn’t you consider me?” 

“I—” his hiccup interrupts him as he roughly smears his tear-stained cheeks with his palms “—I thought you hated me. I didn’t think you would agree. I thought our promises were just a joke. But when you confessed that night, when you said you would fight for us—” his voice cracks again as he laughs at himself, eyes to the ground “—I thought damn, fuck, how did I mess up so hard? I should have fought for us. I’m so stupid—”

“—no you’re not—”

“—so fucking stupid!” 

His self-reprimanding curse echoes in the room. Each of his demeaning scorns inciting a fiery justice in you. 

“No,” you state, “you’re not stupid.” 

Without the dignity to face you, his hands clenched into fist and he continues with bangs shrouding his sorrowful eyes, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I hurt you—”

“—no, Jin, you did not—”

“—I messed us up—”

“—no, Jin, look at me, hey, look at me,” you place a finger under his chin to lift his spirits until those bloodshot eyes of his find refuge in yours. Smiling, you speak, “see? I’m okay. So what are you apologizing for?”  

“Aren’t you… mad?” 

“Mad? No, silly,” you laugh, wiping another tear. “Sad? Maybe.”

“See—”

“—sad because I wasn’t there by your side when you needed me… and maybe a bit sad that I won’t be the one holding you like this tomorrow,” you apologize with a soft smile over the latter jab that incites a wince from the boy. “Why didn’t you tell me about your father?” 

“I didn’t think it was that serious,” he hiccups, “and when I found out, I tried to call you but it didn’t go through.”

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, “I’m sorry.” 

“No,” he takes a deep breath to calm his high, “it’s not your fault.”

“And it’s not yours either,” you affirm, breaking out into a laugh when you take another look at his reddened eyes and dampened cheeks. “Look at you! Why are you looking like a mess on our wedding day, huh?! At least let us be ignorantly happy for one day!” 

“What…?” he frowns whilst hastily smearing every last evidence of his breakdown on his face. The result is an equally red, irritated skin across his cheeks. “What’re you talking about? Kim Seokjin never looks like a mess… hey, what’re you laughing at?!” 

“Look at your tie, idiot! What kind of a rich son are you if you can’t even tie it correctly? Come over here,” you say just as you grab the end of his necktie to pull him up onto the platform. With his necktie now at your eye-level, you begin to unravel whatever knot he had attempted. All the while, you can feel his gaze as he watches you do your thing, completely enamored. This time, it’s your turn to turn red. To distract yourself from the rising self-consciousness, you clear your throat, “call me whenever you’re going through a hard time, okay? I’ll give you my new number…”

The piece of fabric flails around into equally atrocious knots that Jin had previously created until you groan in frustration and disassemble everything. You had practiced this so many times while he was gone, foolishly believing it would come in handy the day he returned, but why does nothing ever work out the way you want it to? 

“I swear it worked last time I tried…”

Your best friend just watches silently, chuckling as you wrap the fabric around your own neck this time; and when he speaks, much steadier like the Jin you have always known, he looks you directly in the eye. “Youngji told me about your guys’ conversation.”

“Huh?” you pause as soon as your embarrassing declaration of love begins reciting itself in your head, but not even the resumed work of your hands could distract you from the ever-growing shade of red. “O-oh, that… what about it?” 

“I heard what you said about me.” 

“Yeah?” you hum nonchalantly, even though the trembling of your hands and the avoidance of your eyes from his give you away. “Well, did she tell you about all the complaints I made, too? About you being a stupid dork?”

“She did,” he utters before placing a finger below your chin to avert your attention to those dazzling works you desperately avoided, “but would you still be willing to marry this stupid dork?”  

“This isn’t even a real wedding,” you feign a frown under the spotlight of his intent gaze, “why are you asking me a question like that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t have the funds to hire a real priest.” 

“You don’t need to for a fake wedding.”

“I thought you said we should be ‘ignorantly happy for one day?’” 

The bantering just never stops, does it?

“Okay, well… to answer your question,” you mutter, eyes averting to the side, “under normal circumstances…”

“Under normal circumstances…” he repeats.

“Where you aren’t engaged…”

“Where I’m not engaged…”

“And your father approved of me…”

“And my father approved of you…”

“Then yes,” you say without hesitation, eyes returning to find a newfound comfort in his relieved gaze, “yes, I would marry you.” 

“And that’s why I love you,” Jin smiles, chuckling softly. “I’ll always want to marry you.”  

And just as a nearby clock tower strikes its church bells to signal the stroke of midnight, Jin grabs the end of your necktie and pulls you in to press his lips onto yours. The body of his warmth and the acceptance of an inevitable end to your paths serve as the last page of a book never to be read again; and yet, he holds himself close, refusing to let you go. 

But when the end nears and the magic of the bells resume time once again, the two of you pull away to catch your breaths. Forehead against yours, Jin gives you one last, fleeting kiss. 

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Deja vu would be the perfect term to describe this feeling.  You can almost see yourself in the room of hundreds, stealing glances at the man from afar. It only takes one blink for you to relive the rollercoaster of jubilance and confessions and tears. In the split second of darkness, the past week flickers before you like a film reel: breaking down in the middle of the hallway right in front of Jin, staring bewilderedly at the large bouquet in the hand of a man at the office, confessing with tears that stain your face and sobs that conquer your voice, meeting the woman who had stolen your spot beside Jin, and holding him in your arms as he cries his heart out at the stroke of midnight. 

And just as quickly as the whirlwind of memories had taken you on a trek of time, your eyes flutter open to find yourself in another suffocating room of hundreds once again. 

Youngji [8:39 P.M.] Hey Y/N do you think you can visit me real quick? 

The glaring text on your phone screen glows in an otherwise dimly lit reception room. Thumb hovering over the screen, your mind goes blank. People pass by you, commotions and laughter fill every corner of the room, and you stand there frozen and affixed to the floor beside the table of food with a glass of red wine in your hands. 

“Hey, Y/N,” someone whispers into your ear and you immediately turn your phone off only to find Alex on her tiptoes, “what’s the matter?”

“Oh, um, nothing,” you respond under your breath, “it’s just that someone wants to talk to me.” 

“Well, you better hurry then,” she ushers you with a gripping hand on your left arm, “the ceremony is about to start anytime now.” 

“O-oh, okay,” you nod, allowing your footsteps to follow the momentum of her push. 

This isn’t exactly what you had planned, for the original plan involved your complete avoidance of the groom and bride, but it’s unsurprising that things never quite go your way. Nothing could quite topple you like last night’s revelation anyways. Taking a deep breath, you weave through the audience, wandering about the venue until you finally find yourself in front of a door with a “BRIDE WAITING ROOM” printed in gigantic black letters taped to it. 

Hesitantly, you knock, “hello? This is Y/N…? Youngji called for me—”

“—Y/N!” The wooden door swings wide open with a highly distressed Youngji hiding behind it. Before you can reply or even confirm the identity of the woman, her hands clutch yours and pull you into the room with a force unimaginable for a human of her size.  Practically lurching forward, a heap of air is knocked from your lungs just as the door slams closed. Coughs force their way through your throat, but Youngji wastes no time to rush to your side. “Y/N, this is an emergency! I need help!” 

“W—” you wheeze, peering up at her as you’re doubled over “—what in the world are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know,” her hands jitter as she paces back and forth, “I don’t know why I feel so… so nervous!”

“Hold on,” you frown, finally straightening your back, “that’s perfectly normal. It’s your wedding—”

“—please don’t say that word again,” she begins biting her freshly white-coated nails.

“What word? Normal? Wedding? Your—”

“—I can’t believe it’s my wedding…” she says repeatedly, hands flying to her head and disheveling her previously perfectly conditioned curls. She suddenly turns to face you, eyes wider than ever with a look that screams of an epiphany. “I-I don’t think I can go there. Y/N, I don’t think I can go out there!”

“What?!” you almost yell, flabbergasted. Recoiling from your outburst, you start much more softly this time. “Are you sure? I’m sure it’s just your nerves getting to you. You’ve been okay with it for at least a year, right?”

“Why?” her eyes widen to unprecedented diameters as she grabs your arm for support. “Is it because it’s too late? Do you think I should back out, Y/N?”

“What? No, no, no, calm down, follow me,” you shake your head, grasping her hand and guiding her to the chair in the center of the room where an entire photo shoot has been set up. Lowering yourself to a squat, you give her a squeeze as firm as the smile on your lips.  “Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s just the jitters. Everyone gets them. I’m sure Jin is freaking out in his room, too.”

“...okay,” she nods, pouting as her eyes lower to your hands that hold hers. Peering up at her from below, you can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks dolled up on this special occasion. From the extravagant poof of her princess gown to the gorgeous glow of the bride herself, you find yourself lost in a trance that burns with heart-panging jealousy. You almost miss her when she murmurs, “how are you so calm, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you raise a brow and laugh. “Why would I be nervous? I’m not the one getting married here.”  

“But… your best friend is getting married,” she shifts to get a clearer look of you but finds you with your eyes to the floor, “are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Of… of course. I’m happy for him,” you say through barely parted lips and stand to your feet before making your way to the door. “It’s not exactly traditional, but do you want me to get Jin? Maybe he can calm you down—”

“—do you know why Jin agreed to this arrangement?” 

Freezing in your tracks, you throw a glance over your shoulder to meet her distraught gaze. 

“Why are you asking me that now?”

“Because,” she blurts, clearly without thinking as words fail to follow through, “because I want your blessing! I want you to be okay with it!” 

“Blessing...?” 

“Yes,” she nods. “I can live with marrying a man I don’t love because I know I’ll come around, but I don’t think I can live knowing I’ve broken your relationship with Jin.”

Your weight shifts from your left to your right but the force of burden weighs immeasurably heavier on your very being. There’s nothing that would have prepared you for her request. Preparation, however, proves unnecessary, for your mind runs on its own and the words come to you as if rehearsal is all it's ever done. 

“I don’t think I’m in the position to grant you permission. That’s your decision and Jin’s,” you say, “and if my blessing is what you’re asking for, then I can give you it as many times as it takes to convince you. But if you’re asking for me to be okay with it, then I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you that.” 

Those are your last parting words as you slump on the wall behind you and a heavy sigh is shared between the two women on opposite sides of the door. Head low like a woman unjustly ashamed for speaking her truth, you take a deep breath with those heavy shoulders that carry the weight of a woman who had essentially cursed the joining of two hands. Nevertheless, somehow, you persist to make your way through the halls just as the ceremony begins; but as the audience settles and the light dims, something tells you the guilt that intoxicates your blood would have a longer-lasting aftermath than you had first expected. 

“Hey,” Alex leans into you, whispering, “is it just me or does Jin seem really jittery?”

“...no,” you answer, making sure to keep yourself hushed amidst a room of seated spectators. From the second bench to the front, fortunately on the opposite side of where Jin’s parents sit in the front row, you get a clear view of Jin and Youngji in between the black silhouettes of a couple heads; but anyone in the room can tell the bright studio lights and elevated platform don’t help his constantly shuffling case. “I don’t think it’s just you.”

“I see… so both the groom and bride are getting cold feet, huh?” 

“Well,” you utter, quipping, “in Jin’s case, he’d probably just say he forgot to sleep with socks on.” 

Alex turns to you with sheer confusion across her furrowed brows, “huh?” 

But before Alex could inquire further, the priest clears his throat and begins the opening ceremony. The officiality of it all, a long-dreaded image of Jin standing by another woman’s side manifesting into reality, has you subconsciously sent into a frenzy. 

“Dear Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Kim Seokjin and Heo Youngji in matrimony commended to be honorable among all…”

The clearing of his throat strikes once and hard against your chest. Each word that reverberates in the room echoes the vibrating pain in the blood pumped from a gaping wound. Your chest heaves and heaves and your lungs struggle to maintain composure, and while your breakdown may have gone unseen by the rest of the universe, you know for sure only two would catch sight of your state.

You and him. 

“...if there is any person who can show cause why they should not be joined together…”

The priest continues and the tension in the audience rises by the second of a stress-inducing prompt, but the moment Jin catches your eyes and the panic painted across it, his every attention remains on you. Guilt should’ve painted your expression now, having stolen the groom’s admiration from the rightful bride by his side, but all you can do is relish in a fleeting moment you deem the least this cruel world owed you. 

Maybe he feels the same way, because something catches in your throat like the hunch that has chills running down the nape of your neck. You don’t dare move an inch. You fear any movement would give you away, though you’re sure he already knew the second he met you halfway.

His eyes, those dazzling eyes that could single-handedly freeze any moment in time, they ask you for a permission only he could grant. 

“...let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” 

No one speaks but the thick air that engulfs every witness in the room is telling enough. Holding a shared, bated breath, everyone awaits and prays for the quick passing of this deafening silence. Your heart is pounding so hard you worry your passing out would be the one interruption to the ceremony, if not anything else. It takes everything in you to remain hidden, glued to the chair. You can hear every single movement in this room, the squeaking of a nearly retired bench, the rustling of clothes amidst a fidgeting audience, the anxious tapping of someone’s heels against the wooden floor, yet no one dares to speak now. 

The priest sighs a soft breath of relief. 

Everyone but you follows along. 

The priest clears his throat and pro—

“—I would like to speak.”

A loud gasp travels across the room. Every witness, including the priest himself, stares at the young man, wide-eyed. The knot in your throat inhibits you from following suit, but the hammer against your chest works harder than ever; because there he is, your best friend, standing boldly before the audience with a puffed chest and a tightened fist that brace for the repercussions. 

It all happens so suddenly, so swiftly. The strings that were left raveled now unraveled, the paths that were abandoned now explored, and the love of a lifetime whomst once bid you farewell now holds on with a determination that tells you they aren’t quite ready to let go, by happenstance or by conviction, everything falls into place. 

You had reprimanded yourself relentlessly for envisioning a moment like this and you truly believed this would be the worst case scenario, so why is it that only now, as your peering eyes are enamored by the sparkles in his, you find yourself smiling proudly and thinking to yourself… that’s your man. 

“Father, mother,” Jin turns to face his parents in the front row, declaring loudly and firmly, “I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love.” 

“What,” Alex shrills under her breath as she clutches your hands, “what is going on, Y/N?!”

Her voice doesn’t reach you and neither do her cold, nudging hands. The ongoing commotion around the room are like white noise in your background. You can’t even spare a second of your attention to the picturesque vision before you, the man who fights not for you but for the two of you.

Jin bows, head hanging low to his parents and the audience, “I’m sorry for saying this too late.” 

Everybody watches as his mother attempts to hold her husband in place. All is in vein, however, when one look of the baffled expression on her husband’s face conveys enough to everyone of the mayhem that is soon to ensue. He rips her grip apart from his arm and storms to his feet, pointing a finger at his apologetic son.

“W—” he struggles to find his breath “—what are you saying? You said you were okay with this just last week!”

“I did,” Jin affirms with his head still hanging low, “I thought I was okay with it until this week.” 

“How—”

“—honey…” the mother murmurs.

“No, changing your mind is one thing, but changing it at the very last second is another,” his father shakes his head, yanking his hand and stumbling on his feet before his distraught son could lend a helping hand. “Did I teach you to inconvenience others like this? Do you know how much trouble you’re causing Youngji and her family?”

“I do,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

His father grunts, “don’t you see, Seokjin? ‘Sorry’ can’t fix everything—”

“—actually, Mr. Kim, it’s not just Jin,” Youngji bounces to Jin’s side then pivots to bow to her parents who sit in the row before you, “I, too, don’t want to marry anyone until I really know them.” 

Physically, the spotlight remains affixed to the stage. Mentally, it feels as though everyone’s attention is gradually creeping its way toward you. It takes everything in you and the grip of Alex’s hands not to run from the prying eyes. 

“What?” their parents gasp. “Didn’t you say you were okay with it if it were Jin?”

“I did!” she insists, suddenly retracting. “I did, until…”

“I’m sorry,” Jin lifts his head to turn to Youngji’s parents before bowing once again, “this is all my fault.”

“No, no, you wouldn’t do this... tell me, son,” his father takes a step toward the stage, beckoning for an explanation, “tell me who did this to you?” 

Jin lifts his head, brow furrowing and lips thinning as he chooses to remain silent to his father’s question. Suddenly, it’s everyone’s duty to catch the perpetrator. The audience begins craning their neck every which way to skim over the possible candidates. Your heart sends threatening waves of pain that foreshadow the inevitable chaos you’re about to be dragged into. 

You can barely move from staring at the floor in between the groom and bride but you can spot the gradual direction of his mother’s eyes making its way toward you… and when they finally spot you, a lightbulb flashing across her eyes the second you make the lethal mistake of meeting her gaze for the first time in many years, it’s as though her son’s rebellion is the only thing that makes sense in this universe. 

Only naturally, his father catches onto his partner’s maternal instincts along with the rest of the crowd as their diverged attention converges, one head turning after another, to stare you down—some with awe plastered across their jealous front, some with ghastly colors than drain their face of blood. 

“Is that… you, Y/N?” his father’s voice echoes in the room. “Seokjin, don’t tell me…”

“No, father!” Jin jumps in, holding up a defensive pair of hands as he attempts to quell the fiery in his father’s temper. Wide-eyed and panicked, he glances between you and his father. “It isn’t her fault. I swear. I”ll explain—”

“—don’t tell me you’re going through all this trouble for a childish crush from five years ago?” 

A loud shriek began the chaos the second Jin’s father exploded, lurching forward with a vexing fist. Everyone in the front rows jump to their feet to hold him back, whereas people in the back rows stand to their tiptoes to get a better view of the climactic show, which includes a once-to-be-groom insisting his father punishes him and a once-to-be-bride slapping her ex-partner in the head for his submission. 

People are hysterically laughing, crying, screaming, yelling, fighting, but you sit there, frozen and petrified, until a hand shakes your entire being to your feet. 

“Y/N, Y/N, God damn it Y/N, earth to Y/N!” Alex raises her hand, just about to give you one hard slap to the cheek when you suddenly flinch awake. She then hastily pushes you toward the door in the corner of the room whilst everyone is too distracted to notice your discreet escape. She looks you directly in the eye, “you need to run before things get too crazy. I’ll handle things here for now.” 

“But Alex, I’m at fault here—”

“—yes, I mean, maybe,” she corrects herself with the shake of her head, “but you being here doesn’t help matters. I’ll help Jin and Youngji.”

“But—”

“—now go,” she starts your momentum with an encouraging push, “go!”

Nodding, you begin your long trek of the night. You run and you run and you run. Your mind runs blank but your feet run a mind of its own. You sprint down the dimly lit streets, you pay no mind to the traffic lights of endlessly empty streets, and your hair twirls in the wind that impedes your speed down the hills. Your surroundings become a blur as your arms swing desperately, your chest heaves incessantly, your eyes sting with tears, and your lips spill anguished sounds of incoherency until somehow, under the sway of the town’s cold spring air and your flux of emotions, you find yourself in a familiar street of your greatest dreams. 

Depleted of gas, your feet stumble into a trot that has your knee nearly buckling, which then turns into a jog that then drifts into an untroubled walk in which your lungs try to catch up and your mind is scrambling at a hundred miles per hour but you, yourself, have gone elsewhere. 

The luminescence of the full moon is blinding but all the more soothing as you navigate your way through this street you’ve walked one too many times before. For some reason, perhaps out of habit or a hope for something waiting at the end of the tunnel, you begin to count each passing light post. Seven fluorescent lights, you count, seven lights resembling the rays of moonlight until you finally reach your old acquaintance of many years at the corner of the street. 

Leaning your head back to stare at the familiar white text on a green sign post, you smile at the homely sight. 

CHERRY BLOSSOM AVE

A comforting breeze blows by you, the branches above you rustle in the wind, and the cherry petals from your old pal flutter into the air to envelop you in a solace you had long sought but failed to obtain. It’s like the calm after a storm. Not quite disconnected from the string that loops around your fourth finger to those of another man’s—no, you couldn’t unravel it after all this heartache—but at least away from the prying eyes that could tear you apart and away from the people who whispered gossip of matters they had none in. 

Hours seem to pass in the clouds that retire to reveal patches of new twinkling ornaments. You would have believed it if someone were to tell you all control of time lies within the blink of your eyes. The silence was calming initially; but the longer you stand here and the more the numbness begins to fade, the more you become aware of your lonesome circumstances. 

The silence is deafening. It knows your greatest fears and your innermost thoughts. You can’t handle it. You can’t bear the thought of being left alone to that voice in your head. 

You have to go. 

Where? 

You don’t know. You just know you have to go somewhere. You can envision all the places you can run to but all the roads lead you to one destination. Yes, anywhere would be fine, anywhere that leads you to him. 

“This marks the second time you’ve ever been so enraptured by something other than me.” 

Whirling around, seconds seem to become milliseconds and gravity becomes a law unbeknownst to earth, for you can’t believe the sight your eyes lay upon. There he is, standing by the tree just a few meters away with a loosened necktie and disheveled hair, almost as if a pitiful albeit wondrous mirage crafted by your shoddy prayers to the moon above. 

“Hey dummy,” he simply utters, taking a step or two toward you before poking your forehead, “what? Why’re you staring at me like I’m a ghost?” 

“What?” you manage to say under your breath. “I’m not staring…”

“I was just joking, you know?” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t be jealous over a street post. Psh, I’m not that dumb—”

“—why…” you frown when he quirks a brow, “why are you here? How are you here?”

“Oh no, she’s gone crazy,” Jin laughs at the stupefied look you give him. “At least an hour or two has passed since you left. Somehow, I managed to sit my father down and explain myself.” 

“And… what did he say?” your hands begin fidgeting. “He must hate me, doesn’t he…”

“I wouldn’t say ‘hate,’ per se… he’s perfectly okay with you. In fact, he likes you, really. He’s just mad at how things happened. After he calmed down, though, he understood where I was coming from.” 

Cautiously, you peek at those eyes that peer down at yours, “and your mother…?”

“She said she saw it coming from a mile away. Apparently she saw us arguing at the engagement party and knew right away,” Jin purses his lips. “Psh, yeah, as if I’m that easy to read.” 

Allowing yourself the smallest of laughs, you still can’t seem to rid yourself of that panging guilt. “And… what about Youngji?” 

Jin stares intently at your expression before cracking a smile and chuckling, ruffling your hair, “don’t go crying on me now, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.” 

“But I just,” your voice cracks, “I just hate myself for ruining everything for everyone—”

“—hey,” he cups his fingers underneath your chin to lift your gaze to his, “you did not ruin anything for anyone. I did this. I chose to fight for us.” 

Hesitantly, you nod and he smiles in response. 

“Youngji’s still explaining to her family right now. She told me to find you and Alex told me you would probably here.” 

Frowning, you mutter to yourself, “how did she know…?” 

“Well,” Jin drops his hand from your chin to raise them in the air, “we did promise to swear our wedding vows here, didn’t we?” 

“So what?” you deadpan. “You’re gonna marry me now after all this mess?” 

“I know you really want to marry me as soon as possible, but I think I’m gonna have to take a break from weddings for now.” 

Rolling your eyes, you mumble, “ditto.”

“But hey, I may have already broken the third promise,” one corner of his lips curve into an apologetic smile before he shrugs, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t marry you in the future! Plus, I may or may not have promised my father I would marry you in the near future to make up for it, so...” 

Scoffing, you gawk, “and who said I would marry you?” 

“Who wouldn’t marry me?!” 

The two of you stare at each other in silence, but the mirrored grin that stretches across your lips are undeniable. Soon enough, a loud fit of giggles and cackles fill the air. It happens all too quickly. The banters come to you like second nature, the conversation flows like a river through time, and somehow you find yourself lying beside him on the blazer he had laid out on the grassy hill and star-gazing for hours on end. 

It’s almost like you’ve seen this all before, just five years aged. 

“So,” Jin speaks, “how’s your birthday been?” 

“Oh, shut the hell up.” 

“What?” he cackles, getting up to lean on his arm whilst hovering you. “You know it’s not too late to tell me what you want for your birthday!” 

“I already told you,” you narrow your eyes at him, “I wasn’t joking when I said what I said.” 

Jin smiles, “in that case…”

He leans in to diminish the distance between his lips and yours. A lulling zephyr blows gently on the cherry petals as you close your eyes and you can picture the way they gracefully descend upon the two lovers below. Having witnessed the unforeseeable promises from start to finish, it’s almost as though an old accomplice was applauding a long-awaited finale. 

And when he finally pulls away, eyelids fluttering open just as yours do, he speaks, “happy birthday.” 

“What was that for?” you giggle. 

Jin’s mouth falls agape, “I’m giving you what you wanted for your birthday!”

“Well,” you purse your lips, “where’s my ring to confirm it then?”

“After all this time, do you really need a ring at this point to confirm my love for you?” Jin rolls his eyes. “You know I’ll always want to be by your side, married or not.” 

A fit of laughs escape you as your hand reaches up to squeeze his cheeks, “I know, I know. I’m just joking.”

“Well, good, cause I’m bankrupt at the moment,” Jin sighs, plopping back onto the grass beside you. A momentary silence passes before he turns his head to look at you, “just to make sure, you said you wanted love, right?” 

Turning to meet those sparkles in his gaze, you answer, “yeah?”

“You said you wanted to feel love, right?” 

Your grin grows wider by the second, “yeah?” 

“Well,” he says, “do you feel it?” 

“I do,” you answer. “What about you? Do you feel it?”

The vows hold a truth much closer to his heart this time around, and he smiles as he swears...

“I do, too.” 

#bts scenarios #jin scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #jin angst #jin fluff #jin x reader #jin x you #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #jin x y/n #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #bts au #bts imagines #jin imagines #seokjin scenarios #bts fic #seokjin fic #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #bts oneshot #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fluff #bangtan angst #bangtan jin

[cherryatiny]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲! 𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭

GIFs are not mine, credit goes to their respective owner

❁ 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠

It was no secret that your sugar daddy Hongjoong is a born aristocrat, as his rich taste in everything showed up a lot. Ever since a young age, he was taught to love art in all its forms. When his grandparents passed away sadly, he was the chosen one to inherit the prestigious art gallery their family ran for more than 7 decades.

Although he wasn't an artist of the top level, his love to express himself through art never died. So the very first day he took over the gallery, the first thing he ordered his subordinates to do, was to clear out the smaller room in the back of the director's office.

Soon after, he designed the space to an art studio of his liking, where he could freely spend his free time painting, reconstructing clothes, or just rest while stimulating his brain to function more creatively.

Soon after he met you and you two got into the sugar daddy relationship, he found his muse in you. At first, it started by him just taking pics of you at the moments he deemed to be artsy, not long after that he however started calling you to his little studio in the gallery he ran. Always making you sit or lay down on the old valuable settee, that looked like the ones from Renaissance paintings.

Taking you by your hand, he showed you the paintings of the new exhibition he was preparing. The paintings harmonized well, all of them tuned in a dark abstract setting. Loosening your hand out of his grip, you grasped his wrist the same he did with your often, dragging him to the office. He was slightly taken by surprise as he did not expect you to drag him there since you haven't agreed on him painting you today. „Lay down, for today, you'll be my muse Joongie.“

He was laying on the settee, looking up at the ceiling, so his side-profile was fully visible to you, as you painted him on the canvas. Mixing colours to your liking, you made the portrait of your Hongjoong look abstract, as it matched the art style he often used.

After hours of painting, when you did the last line with your paintbrush, you sighed out tiredly, wiping the sweat off your forehead as you observed your creation. „My muse, you can come here and admire yourself on the canvas.“ Standing up swiftly, he came over to you, leaning forward, his arm wrapping around the shoulder of your sitting self as he was all eyes on the painting.

„It's... spectacular. I- I'm at a loss of words, why did you never tell me you had a talent for painting my darling? If I added this painting to the exhibition there, I can guarantee you, that this will be the most favoured painting in my gallery.“

❁ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚

You don't even know why you applied to become Seonghwa's secretary a few months ago, considering you've never worked in this type of branch. But it was probably the best decision of your life because if you wouldn't have applied for the secretary position, you wouldn't have met your sugar daddy Seonghwa.

At first, the work was a disaster as your relationship with your boss didn't start off very well. He was giving you tons of work to do, the stupidest arrangements that were completely unnecessary to make, or the most boring workshops and meetings to take you to with him.

But after the one night at a business conference in Milan when you two got closer than one would expect you to and got into the sugar daddy relationship, his attitude to you drastically changed.

Your secret relationship also made him give you easier and different tasks to do, he as well deemed you to be more reliable than before, which resulted in him giving you free hand in literally everything. He was actually taken aback by how competent you were at your tasks. Doing everything you were told to do, ten times better than he would have probably done.

One night, as you two were cuddling on the couch in his place while looking out of the large glass wall with the sighting of the whole town, he spoke out, „Y/N why didn't you tell me you had such talent for scheduling, strategic planning and business stuff? I should have made you the director of strategic planning or something like that. But then... I get to be closer to you when you're my secretary, my beautiful baby.“

❁ 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

„Ah, shit! The actress who was supposed to play the walk-on in the hospital scene with Yunho, can't get here as something happened to her. What do we do now?“ yelled the director out of frustration as the actress announced she can't arrive just a few minutes before they were supposed to shoot.

You were just finishing your sugar daddy Yunho's outfit for the shoot as you were the main costumer for this k-drama. Yunho stood up from his seat as you finished his stylist, bending down to plant a kiss on your lips, before going over to the director with a worried look on his usually joyful face.

You were clearing off the stuff you used on him back to where it belonged to. Eyeing Yunho talk with the director from distance, the two of them occasionally flashing looks at you. When they stopped talking, Yunho jogged to you with the beaming smile you knew that well on his face. His puppy-like features always flashed out when he had any good news, giving him the look that was asking him what he wanted to say.

„Get changed. You've got the role of the girl who's missing.“ you raised your eyebrows at what he just said, taken aback as you did not really understand what he was talking about. You and acting? „Come on, get dressed, we don't have much time. Here's the script.“ handing you the bunch of papers and the outfit the girl was supposed to wear, he motioned for you to go to the changing room.

You wiped the sweat off your forehead as you went away from the shooting site. „Wow, ms. Y/N, are you sure you didn't study acting? Although it was supposedly your first time acting, it was so natural. Wow, I'm glad Yunho showed you to me, you are for real like a hidden gem. Would you... maybe be interested in any more acting in future?“ asked the director with a glance of hope in his eyes after you finished shooting the small part in the k-drama your sugar daddy was starred in. Looking at him, wondering what Yunho's opinion was, the proud and encouraging smile on his face hinting that he really wanted you to accept the offer made by his boss.

„I'm so proud of you princess. My little talented actress, I love you.“

❁ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠

Groaning softly, you rubbed your eyes as you sat up, looking at the empty spot beside you. You were sleeping at Yeosang's home, but as you could see, he didn't seem to be sleeping. Slipping your feet into the fluffy slippers with rabbit eyes, you wrapped your body tighter in Yeosang's shirt you were sleeping in, as the air was rather cool.

Opening the door of his bedroom, you went down the stairs of his apartment, down to the living room where a small table lamp was lit. Your sleepy sugar daddy sitting by the desk covered in many papers that seemed to be related to his prosecutor work.

Approaching him, you caressed his shoulder, which woke him up from his quick nap, „Mhm, Y/N. You can go back to sleep, I'll be there soon, I just have to finish this.“ You knew well that that wasn't the case and he won't be there soon. Sighing, you wrapped your arms around his neck, sitting down on his lap, his hand caressing your exposed thighs. „What are you working on, Yeo?“

„I'm treading through the case files, but I just can't take the next step. The police want me to indict him of murder, but the defendant is justifying himself saying that it was an accident and that he should be only indicted of manslaughter.“ Taking the case files from his hand, you read through them since your unbiased opinion might be of help to him.

Taking a pen from his desk, you underlined the facts you thought were important in your lay opinion. Handing it to him, he read focused on the underlined sentences, his eyes lighting up in hope. „Oh my god, Y/N. You're the saviour of my life, this is the core issue but it hasn't even struck up to me. I love you so much, my little prosecutor.“

❁ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐚𝐧

„Sannie, could you please tie my swimsuit?“ you held your hair in a ponytail so it did not get into the way as San tied the ribbon on the back of your swimsuit. You smiled at him as a way to say thank you, leaving the hotel suite your sugar daddy San reserved for you two to enjoy your vacation to the fullest.

San took your hand in his, your fingers intertwining as you walked down the hotel's luxurious corridors to the private beach. „Now, what does my beautiful baby plan on doing today?“ questioned san as he pulled you to him as close as possible. „Hm, I don't know, I'll probably do nothing all day long, just lay on the beach and sunbathe.“

„Then I'll keep you company while you do your nothing.“ giggles were leaving you two as you talked more while on the way to the sea. But as you started nearing the beach, loud dance music coming from the speakers. „What's that...?“ As you got to the beach, a group of people was doing dance work-outs there to the rhythm of the music.

„I have no idea what they are doing, but let's try Y/N“ and without giving you a chance to protest, San tugged you there by your wrist, right to the centre of the imaginary dance floor. He started dancing just as the instructor did, gesturing you to do the same.

Soon after you submitted to his nagging, doing the same as him to the rhythm of the energetic music. „Y/N, you're doing so well. Would I have known about your talent to dance, I would have taken you to some studio a long ago.“

❁ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢

After that one ball, you two met together at, you got invited to countless more balls to keep your boss company. Over that many times you two spent together, you get to know each other more and more until eventually, he somehow became your sugar daddy and boyfriend in one.

Tonight was very special, Mingi as the chairman of one of the biggest conglomerates in the country, got invited to the ball held by the president for the most influential people in the country. And when he stopped by your apartment with a beautiful night-robe, a pair of brand-new heels and a golden envelope with the letter of invitation in it, you almost fainted from the delight you felt.

Sometimes he couldn’t help but watch you like a movie on nights like this. Because you seemed so interested in these events, that it truly amazed him how you could act so interested in the talk of the attendants when it bore him to death. You just seemed so natural at attending events like this, you could dance, you knew all the protocol rules, you could pretend interest or know how to answer to the business talk others often held with you. He just couldn’t help but admire the talent you had for the formal events.

Excusing you from their speech, Mingi wrapped his arms around your waist, taking you to the middle of the dance floor as your favourite dance song was playing. Moving slowly, you melted into his touch as you enjoyed each other’s presence dancing the slow dances. „I'm amazed my dear Y/N, I can't bring myself to be interested in talking to these egoistic geezers for more than 5 minutes. Thank god I have you, my talented princess.“

❁ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠

When you spent the night at your sugar daddy Wooyoung’s place, you usually weren’t allowed to even be near the kitchen as he insisted “he treats his princess food and she shouldn’t cook, because what if she cuts herself?” so today, as he had to rush to the work early in the morning because of some urgent, leaving you in his immense mansion alone.

And that meant you had a free pass to cook something in his kitchen. But seeing how emptied his fridge was, you opted for something more simple in a form of stir-fried tofu with vegetables. Washing the fresh vegetables thoroughly, you dried them, placing them on the breadboard, to cut them. All of his knives were sharp as Wooyoung was doing his best to keep his kitchen in the best state.

Throwing the tofu cubes onto the pan with a heated droplet of olive oil, you stirred them until they roasted into golden colour, adding the cut vegetables and cooking rice in the meanwhile. Not at all realizing that there was a pair of eyes watching you from the doorframe.

Leaving you like that, Wooyoung in the meanwhile went to change into some sweatpants and a t-shirt, maybe a quick shower. And so when he came back, you were already turning off the stove. „Well, well, well, what do I see? Looks like someone used my kitchen behind my back.“

You jumped in your place lightly, your breathing heavy at how startled you were upon Wooyoung talking to you out of nowhere. „Jung Wooyoung, for how long have you been there?“ he put on a grimace, pretending to be pondering over it. „Probably ever since you added the veggies to eat and started singing to those annoying songs.“

„They’re not annoying, you’re just too old to understand them. Anyway, if you want to nag at me for using your kitchen, do it after you taste my delicious meal. Seems like you were in rush this morning, so you probably haven’t eaten anything“ Placing the plate in front of him, you sat opposite of him, waiting to see what his reaction would be as he had never tasted your cookings before.

„Mhmm, are you sure you’ve cooked it yourself? If so... why have I never let you in my kitchen, when this is so delicious? Gosh, my princess is such a good cook.“ Your smile was full of delight at his compliment as you watched him stuff his mouth full of your food.

❁ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨

„Y/N, I’m going to the restroom, you’ll wait for me, right?“ you nodded, watching your sugar daddy Jongho leave the studio. Standing up, you sat down on the now-emptied armchair in front of the PC screens, your eyes scanning the colourful music segments on the screen.

You picked up the sheaf of papers with the notes to his newest song, along with the lyrics he’s written himself. Your eyes ran over the notes and the lyrics and as you were re-reading the text for the 3rd time, you started humming to it, trying to get the right melody Jongho was intending on having in the song.

Opening the door to the studio, Jongho noticed you sitting on the chair, your back turned to him and that resulted in you still being oblivious to his presence. And he didn’t dare to make a move, standing in the door-frame and watching you humming to the song in amazement that you weren’t tone-deaf like most non-musical people were, as you hit all the tones.

„Woah Y/N, are you a trained singer or something? Why didn’t you tell me you were good at music? I would have taken you here long time ago...“

❁ taglist : @galaxteez @gyubaby @bobateastay @tinytinyblogs @ateezinmymind @chososchaos @cvtiehoon @a-soft-hornytiny

#IT'S SHITTY I'M SORRY #I PLANNED IT BEFORE HAND BUT I STILL HAD WRITERS BLOCK #ateez #sugar daddy!ateez #ateez sugar daddy au #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez headcanons

[anaiswriterr]

The Dragon Kings Queen

Pairing: Dragon King!Bakugou x Queen!Reader

Rating: M

Warning: This is part four, I’d like to point out be aware: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝗼𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺𝐞𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐠𝗼𝐫𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐭𝐜. Please don’t read if you are not comfortable with it, and if you’re under the age of 18+ I will give a warning when it becomes NSFW but at the moment it’s SFW. Todays chapter does include gore, death, killing, hunting, sickness, etc.

<masterlist>

Synopsis: ➪ When the word marriage crossed your mind, you believed you’d marry someone you loved. Not this brute of a King. So here you are standing at the end on an alter, pushing away the urge to run and fight. Possibly start a new life, instead of being dragged into a loveless marriage. But for the sake of your people.. They say he’s not what rumors make him out to be, but how can you believe that when his eyes burn into yours; just as fiery as before. How could you, ever love someone as barbaric as him…

- chapter five: the blood a trickster spills -

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You grab onto a tree branch, grunting as you pull yourself up. It has been an hour since you've been aimlessly walking through the enchanted forest, your feet already burn in exhaustion. You managed a to find a stream, the land was smooth - perfect for a fire in the morning but right now your main priority:

Is to somehow climb this tree without breaking a leg.

You grumble incoherent words to yourself, enraged by the stubborn bark your hand could not grasp. You opted for another tree branch, pulling yourself up to a reasonably thicker branch - which you deemed was thick enough to wait the night out. Though sleep was definitely out of the question for you, a fall from this height was enough to put you out of commission and paint you dead.

You wrap your arms carefully around the trees trunk taking deep breathes in attempt to sooth your beating heart, "don't look down.. don't look down." you chant, the words stitching together like a prayer. But your eyes glance down - for only one second. One second and suddenly your breath hitches and fear burrows into your stomach. One slip and it was over. Your hands grasp hard onto the trees bark, imprinting your hand with small indents of patterns.

Your eyes grow heavy with sleep, exhausted from climbing. You mentally curse yourself for not taking advantage of the time you had in the carriage ride.

From beneath you, bushes rustle and heavy footsteps emerge.

Yet, you don't dare look down to peep what roams the dark night; growling and far away howls creep up your skin as you shiver. You were in a long night - a cold grueling night.

***

You shiver against the bark, as rain pours down from above soaking your boots and clothing. The rain clouds cover up the moon - as if the night couldn't get worse - you feel small rain drops drizzle down from the skyline. Tapping your nose and cheeks, falling hard onto the ground after a few seconds. You roll your eyes in annoyance, tightening you grip against the tree bark as the rain soaks you from head to toe. In this case you were going to get sick if you didn't dry up soon - and sickness in the kingdom was a true tragedy. Your grip is slippery, chunks of bark peels off the tree and onto the ground below. Startling the animals that roamed below - one snarls as it's hit on the head with one piece. Tightening your legs and arms you realize if you fall now, in this darkness, at this moment..

You would never see another night again.

Determined to survive you travel even further up top into the tree line, it wasn't the smartest idea, staying put in the position you were in and waiting the rain out seemed like a logical solution.

But you needed to get to the tree line.

The sky could tell exactly what time it was, where the rain was coming from, and when it would end. It was better visually, other than waiting for you to fall.

But that also was a thought, what if your foot slipped when you were trying to get further on top, surely by that height you wouldn't have to worry about getting eaten alive by creatures of the night - you'd simply die just by hitting the ground. In all actuality, you didn't wanna think about it, but each time your damned eyes just peered down you saw death. This entire forest reeked and felt like death, or was it a curse, a game? A game to see which Queen can be the most traumatized?

If so, you were pretty sure by the end of this you'd have to see the royal therapist. If there even was one in this kingdom you served.

Grunting you pull yourself up, cheering yourself on internally. You're just nearly there, one more step and the sky line would be clear!

Rain droplets splatter your face, gliding across your cheeks and drenching your hair. Just a few more branches, a few more pulls. The dark clouds peer through leaves above, and you can already see the rain clouds gathered together. You sigh in relief, the rain would stop soon, you estimated the rain would most likely stop in approximately five minutes. And the moon would shine down again. the clouds were just passing by.

You breath in the fresh air, ignoring the pelting rain.

You just simply needed to breath, tears run down your face as you stare off into the Kingdoms silhouette - staring angrily at the sky refusing to place your fate in another persons hands. Clutching onto your dagger your carve into the tree branch.

"I will not accept the fate you place me under, you scoundrel pieces of shit!" You say quietly under your breath, a promise you will get to retell to your future children when the time came.

***

Birds chirp all around you, it's officially the first day.

The beating sun scorned your skin, but the cough in your throat is enough to pull your attention away from the scorching heat. You are developing a cold.

Your throat tickles and your nose feels stopped up, your hand shoots up to cover the suns beating  rays off your face. It was early, if you had to estimate most likely seven in the morning. The sun came down behind the kingdom at exactly seven thirty, (you made sure to observe), which only meant you had had twelve hours and thirty minutes to find food, make a fire, track down a goblin, and lastly if you were lucky enough to stumble upon safe herbs to create a tea that would soothe the pending cold.

If an infection didn't kill you, it'd be a cold that would have a final say, but the cold was the least of your worries.

You had a goblin to track down, and those tricksters could kill you faster than any fever.

You slowly move down the tree, checking your surrounds.

You found yourself a loose rabbit wandering off into its borough, noting your next meal for the day was only a few feet away. Your boots crunch onto the dried leaves and wet dirt, you search for dried logs that survived the rain fall, along with rocks that you could create a pit with. You set up directly in the sun in hopes to dry out a few damp logs. In the meantime you went to the rabbits borough - it had two entrances and from what you learned from Kirishima it would attempt to escape from the back. You stealthily placed a large heavy rock at the back entrance blocking its way.

Intricately you back away, you weren't so immune to dead animals. Your father went on annual hunting trips all the time, but, this would be the first time you are hunting out of survival.

The entirety of the "game" was survival.

You check up on your logs, noticing they are now dry from the suns heat. You grab your sticks rubbing your hands up and down to create a spark - fire blazes in front of you. Normally you'd say it was to hot to start a fire, but at night you rather face the cold than a grueling hungry Ogre. Of all things you had to deal with in life at this moment, a bitch ass Ogre was not one of the problems you had the proper strength and patience to deal with.

You grab an end of a stick, lighting the other half on fire. Waving it as a torch, your meal for the day would be served.

You rush over to the borough, lightly throwing the stick into the hole before closing it off with the boulder. Running over to the other end you hold your dagger.

You felt bad for the poor thing.

But a girls got to eat.

***

You have no idea where to start.

When one thinks of a goblin one would refer to the story books that claimed they lived under bridges - shunned away from society maybe even deep into forests. But those were simply just stories, if you had to think like a goblin you'd live far away from the kingdom in fear of being killed.

Nobody prepared you for the hunt, only survival.

You decide you should move, being stuck in the same place wouldn't get you very far. The herbs you were in search for in the meantime for your throat weren't found so you inevitability gave up on the luxury of a warm leaf of tea. You cough into your arm, sniffling your nose from running. The heat rose your temperature to the point you had to stop your travels to lie down, mentally cursing yourself for wasting time.

Heaving, you look up towards the sky, noticing the sun has moved positions. Only a few hours away of setting and you have yet found a single clue where you could find a goblin. You crouch down beside a creak, cupping your hands and drinking away the water from your palms. Splashing your face with it as well to cool the rising fever you felt approaching. You only had three days and if you were gonna make it back to start on time by the third day the heart must be in your possession. Your feet ache, and your calves muscles cramp. The lower part of your back is sore and the sun is burning the sides of your feet - you were in complete misery.

Black dots appear in your line of sight, you stumble onto your feet holding back the urge to vomit what little food you had left in your system.

Your hand quietly slaps over your mouth, clamping it shut.

"Well well well... what do we have here?"

Before you can even answer your sight goes dark, and you feel your head hit the ground. It falls silent.

***

Humming.

The sound of a cackling fire.

And the warm rich scent smell of hazelnut soup.

You slowly open your eyes, "What the-" your heart rate rises in fear, where were you? Who's here? Why are you here, how are you here? You search for the dagger but are left bewildered when the sharp blade is nowhere to be found. You shuffle backwards, your hands running over the wooden floorboards - splinters penetrate your skin. But you could careless, you remember passing out from the heat - or was it from a fever? You didn't know, footsteps approach you.

"Oh well it seems like you're awake!" A females voice cheers, you scan her body, taking in her frame. She was tall, and very beautiful, her striking long brown hair and dark green eyes, a dark red gown adorned her body. Narrowing your eyes in suspicion, you bark at the woman, "Who are you-"

"Now, that isn't a way to speak to a woman who saved your life your Majesty."

"How do you know who I am-"

The woman chuckles, "Well I hear everything! The forest, it speaks to me. And not to mention the witches that live here love to gossip!" You stare at her, blinking your tired eyes. It still didn't make much sense, yes technically you ruled this land as well but it's so far away. You can feel your pounding headache even worsen, "So you're a witch?" You ask, pulling your feet in.

"Ha! You think I'm one of those people! How rude. See I'm just a modern lady sitting in a cottage, I don't suppose you would know that kind of lifestyle." The woman shrugs, sipping her cup of tea.

You nod, "I'm afraid.. I don't actually." All your life you were surrounded by jewels and gold's, fed the most expensive meats and the most tasty fruits. Living a fast paced life of "don't say that." "don't touch that." "sit like this." and "who told you to speak." Speaking to Mina about eventually running away from marriage, even planning to take her too.

"Well it seems to me you are part taking in those heinous games the Dragons throw women into. What a shame, you are beautiful too."

You arch a brow in curiosity at her, "What do you mean?"

"I mean this isn't going to end well for you. I mean, look at you! You look like you couldn't hurt and fly, I wonder what King Bakugou must be up to? You wouldn't stand a chance against a goblin!" The woman laughs manically placing her cup of tea onto the table, she steps towards you. "I managed to survive one night alone-"

"Oh please, If I didn't take you in the wolves would've had a feast. You should be thanking me." You roll your eyes in annoyance, "Now dear," she grins, "you look parched. How about some tea."

Tea.

Your body is practically begging for a warm remedy to sooth your raw sore throat, oh.. you realized that you're actually growing sick. The headache on the sides of your temples is beating - pounding against your brain. Your vision is cloudy. How could you not of realized. You were so distracted by where you were you barley remember you couldn't find the herbs you searched for.

The lady wags an empty cup in your face.

"Come on. Your cheeks are burning red, and whether that's just a sun burn or fever I'm sure you need a sip. You're burning up a storm."

A part of you wonders her name, but was it truly important? Could she possibly show you were you could find a goblin? You look over your shoulder out of the window realizing the sun was just barley going down.

"H-How long was I out?" You shakily ask, pulling your hands into your chest.

The woman arches a brow, "You know for a Queen you surely do stutter a lot. You've been out since noon."

Lord if you didn't have strength to be patient you probably would've thrown a wooden slab at her by now, you breath in heavily through your stopped up nose; coughing in despair. Blowing out a few pieces of hair from your face. "Well, then do you want the tea or no - your royal highness?" She asks in a taunting matter.

"No. I'm fine." You huff.

"More for me then-"

"What's your name?" You interrupt, "Id love to know the name of the woman who saved me after all." You grin tilting your head to the side. The lady clears her throat, "Marigold. My name is Marigold." You nod, finally knowing her name. "Well Marigold, do you know where I can find a goblin?"

The word seems to stop Marigold in her tracks. Her face grows pale for a second before returning back to her natural nonchalant expression. Blowing a raspberry she proceeds to laugh, "Well honey, that's a days trip. They live deep into the forest. You wouldn't make it there in time."

Hmm, you nod suspiciously. Recalling the last conversation you had with Kirishima.

"What do goblins look like? I've only ever read about them." You asked, moving beside him following him into the horse stall. He combs out the mane of his horse, "Well that's a tricky question my Queen. They are real tricky and can spew lies just to get you where they want... they promise you things. You have to be real smart to not fall for it - I've encountered one in my youth. It didn't look anything like those storybooks."

Your eyes wander her body; she looked normal. But to trust her would be a stretch, one that could kill you. Her voice sound normal. You watch her closely, "Where's my stuff?" You ask. Marigold arches a brow and shrugs her shoulders; "What stuff?"

You bark, "My dagger! My holster for it! Where is it?"

"Oh those things.. why do you need them?"

"I need to leave-"

"It's dark out, you wouldn't want yourself to increase your fever now would you. I promise this tea will sooth all your pains away. Even the ones deep in your heart."

You arch a brow, narrowing your gaze. Even the ones deep in your heart. Your brush her off as a bluff, "You don't know what you're talking about." You push yourself up from the floor, stumbling from the sudden wave of nausea. Sweat beats run down your forehead as you attempt to stand up straight. Marigold clicks her tongue, her long fingers run through her long brown locks. "No. No. It seems that... I do know what I'm talking about. A Queen who's too good for her new kingdom, thrown, stuck and forced into a loveless marriage; suddenly thrown into the enchanted forest to find a heart that she will be forced to eat? Poor unfortunate girl, you were better off dead."

Her words cut deeply, anyone could figure that out though. She didn't know you, how could she possibly think she had your life figured out. You were a Princess made into a Queen; it wasn't that hard to understand. To create peace between your kingdoms you had to marry Bakugou.

"Darling... you are unhappy." She takes small sips of her tea, "I can help you escape.. you don't love him you don't even know him. Come with me, and I can help nourish you back to health. You won't even have to return, I'm quite lonely myself. Now, have some tea. Your cheeks are practically scarlet." Marigolds grin is sinister, she taps her nails slowly against the table; that's when you realize:

Her fingers and nails are sharp, green, and coated with old blood.

Her green eye sharpen with each passing second - her pupils are almost snake like. You gulp down the fear that rose in you, ignoring the raging pound against your chest. What do you do? You can tell she's growing impatient, if you run out now with no weapon you could kiss your life away. If you stayed... no. You needed a knife, your dagger, anything even a wooden stake would do fine. "I don't bite, sit down." Marigold says menacingly, your feet  scuff the floor as you make your way to her. This is the time where you're supposed be strong, you guess.

Marigold lifts up her tea kettle, you notice her teeth for the first time.. how sharp they were.. separated and long.. how could she disguise herself as someone so beautiful?

"Remember.. they are tricksters. They are going to tell you things you wanna hear, they can be anyone and anything." Kirishima's words rang through your head, "Well wouldn't that make them a shape shifter? I've heard those are a thing too, how can I be certain?" You pout, how would you know. The creatures of the Enchanted Forest were so complex. He crosses his arm, "You'll know when they begin to turn.. back into the creature they were originally. Don't catch yourself entertaining, they'll slice your throat in a second."

Your breathing grows heavy, she's a goblin. She's what you've been looking for, her name wasn't Marigold - Marigold was a the woman who the face, the body belonged too. This thing... is morphing. You choose your words carefully, slowly reaching out for an empty tea cup and quietly asking her to fill it. If you could just lead her into the kitchen somehow you could possibly get a knife, "Well now that's the spirit my Queen. I promise this tea with sooth everything away, melting all the overwhelming emotions you may be feeling." The woman mutters before pulling back a hot tea kettle.

Hot.

Tea.

Kettle.

Boiling water is in there. Your heart prancing in joy, you have a chance. You had an opening, quickly, you stop her with your hand. "Actually, may I poor it? I-I sometimes like mines a little more full than usual." You smile nervously, "Oh why of course, here. Have as much as you'd like - it came right off the cauldron."

You nod, taking the handle away from her and carefully pouring the boiling tea into your cup. You make note of her wandering eyes, you've got to make this quick. You finish pouring, opening the kettle lid you ask aloud, "What kind of tea is this? It smells wonderful." You needed a distraction, a reason to open the lid.

"Lavender green tea with a speck of rose water-"

Your throw the boiling water over her head, her screams erupt in the as dining room; as her skin bubbles up. You throw the kettle at her head and knock back your chair, running towards the kitchen. "You wretched! Horrid- I'll slice your throat!" The Goblin screeches, you search the drawers and cabinets for something, anything! But to no avail you didn't find a single thing. Now you were completely done for.

Heavy footsteps and angered huffs make their way towards the kitchen - it's now or never. Throwing pots and pans you make sure to strike the goblin in the face, "After I saved your life! This is the thanks I get?" You hear, bending down to hide underneath the counter your eyes lock with a shining blade.

Your dagger!

Hidden behind the cauldron, you just needed a way to get back there. You needed a way to grab it, the goblins footsteps grow heavy. You silence your breathing with your palms, "I could've helped you, I could've been your escape. You greedy rat!" You hear tables being flipped over, cabinets being thrown open violently, "Wait till I get my hands on you.. I'll cut you open and gut you like a fish."

You attempt to keep calm, either way you were a goner if you hadn't left in that moment. When you hear the goblins footsteps move away in distance you shuffle onto your feet and zoom towards the cauldron. The crackling fire and boil contents bring you an idea. You hurry for the dagger, flipping it between your hands.

"There you are.." you hear a snarl from across the room, readying your blade to attack, you throw your hands up, "Thank you for the hospitality, but it looks like you have something I need." You point towards the goblins chest, the heart. A viable beating heart, only feet away. In mere seconds the goblin launches at you, reaching out to tackle you. You swiftly move out of the way throwing yourself to the ground, your palms throb in pain from the splinters lodged deep into your flesh - but that's the least of your worries. You scurry to your feet and push over the boiling cauldron over the goblin and stab your dagger deep into its head. Blood splatters your face in small droplets, staining your face and clothes.

You've never killed a "person" before.

Never did you think you could actually do it, but the small sigh of relief escaping your throat tells you that you are finally safe.

You proved what you had to prove. And for the night you had sanctuary.

Your mind races in adrenaline, you're alive.

Yet you had to kill in the process, does that make you one of them? No, you did what you had to do. It was a matter of kill or be killed. You pull your dagger away, out of its head, you didn't kill an innocent women. You killed a beast. Small gurgles and a moan fall from its mouth, the sound of death. You wipe away the blood on your forehead with your forearm and roll the dead corpse to the side.

The heart...

A token for the kingdom.

***

Blood stains your chest; dried up to the color brown as you stumble through the forest. Your eye lids feel heavy with every step you take yet you fight off the urge to fall to your knees and succumb to the dark black dots in your vision. It's tempting, yet you are so close to the finish.. you walked the full second day. With no breaks and no source of water on the way, your fever had returned full force as the sun blazed down your body.

You cough into your arm as your second hand clutches onto the heart you were meant to return. Fresh blood coats your hands from the animals you had to fight off for the heart, the trip back was just as worse, your eye lids flutter, opening and closing with each step you nearly fall to the floor.

You look like a dead girl walking.

Your feet shuffle and kick at the ground below.

Your back is sore and your throat feels dry from the cold of the night - the forest was ruthless. You can hear the tribal drums from afar, the sound edging closer and closer, increasing its volume with each step. You stumble to the ground, exhausted, thirsty, and sick. You consider staying down, to tired to even pull yourself up. You hear voices, they sound so close.

"I told you already, she'll be here."

Bakugou?

The king, your husband.

"Give her some more time."

It must be near afternoon then, you push yourself up when you heard Kirishima's voice agree with your husband. Providing you some more time to make it to the finish line - you assume the politicians want to speed up the process. You swore they must have something against you.

Your body feels sticky from the old, dried blood on your chest. Fingers still freshly coated in blood and dirt you push yourself off from a nearby tree - edging closer to the entrance of the Enchanted Forest. The setting suns sunlight peers through the small branches and leaves of the trees above, kissing your exposed shoulders, reddened from the sunburns that littered your skin. You wipe the sweat off your forehead; smearing a combination of dried and fresh blood all over your face. But you don't care, you just had a few more step till sanctuary.

The entrance is clear, open to the trail you followed.

You can see Kirishima from a distance, his rough shoulders tense in worry. Beside him, Bakugou stands with his arms crossed over his shoulders. An expression you couldn't make out contours his face.

You know you've finally made it out when a wave of heat smacks your face even harder - the setting sun beating on your body you stumble over to the King.

A smirk on your face as you hold up the heart, his eyes widen in surprise, taken aback you watch his lips move. But no sound comes out, it's all muffled around you. Black spots collect in your vision, "I-I did it.." you mumble, falling into his chest his hand reaches out to touch your forehead.

You lie passed out in his arms as he calls out to his guards, Kirishima collects the heart from your hand just before it could fall. "What do we do?" The dragon frantically says, Bakugou looks out for the Counsel men, his eyes fall onto the President. Glaring he announces, "We're taking her back to the Palace now!"

"You will do no such thing, your Majesty! She will be brought to the plaza hall, your people are waiting! Handmaidens, guards, take Queen Y/N, preserve the heart and bathe it in pigs blood. We are continuing the ceremony."

Your fever rose with each passing minute, and the exhaustion you'd expedited already was enough to kill. Bakugou breathes in heavily knowing he had no say in the ceremony. There was no way he could just simply override the parliament. Arms wrap around your body as the guards and handmaidens assist in take you.

They rip you away from Bakugou's arms.

"We'll take care of her after the ceremony-"

Kirishima interrupts the Counsel man, bearing his sharp teeth he growls, "I believe you will. I don't necessarily like the taste of humans." He threatens as they user you off. Bakugou stares in annoyance at the carriage that rushed you off to the plaza. Nightfall was close, and he could already feel the rumbling of ceremonial drums beneath his feet. A hand comes to pat his shoulder, the Counsels president, Hagoku Tekona, smiles. "You should probably head back to the plaza.. she might wanna see you as soon as we wake her up."

"You're just gonna wake her up?"

"We'll just drench her in pigs blood to wake her, she'll anyways have to. The tradition calls for the Queen to bathe in pigs blood as she intakes the heart to be fully part of the dragon clan-"

Bakugou, walks away, reaching out for Kirishima he taps his back.

"Make sure... they don't throw her around too much."

Nodding in agreement Kirishima fetches their horses, "I'll take care of her. Make sure she's conscious." The two jump onto their horses settling into the saddle, Bakugou mutters to himself, incoherent words bungled all in one sentence, he pulls back on his horse. Kirishima arches a brow in worry, eyeing his friend he doesn't know what to say neither what to do, the dragon mutters, "You seem surprised. Did you think she wasn't going to make it?"

Nodding Bakugou turns to face Kirishima, with notable surprise written on his face. "I thought I was going to have to find another wife..."

Chuckling Kirishima shakes his head before taking off with his horse, "Depending on how well tonight's ceremony goes.. it appears Bakugou that you have a wife beside your side."

"It appears.. so."

AUTHORS NOTES: Yooooooo! How are you guys, sorry for taking to long. This chapter was longer than the others so I’m happy with where this is going. I have been going through a few things, remember guys I’m just a teenager so it can be hard to fit things in on time. I just got a job, just waiting for the orientation, I have school work and I’m glad I have all A’s! Anyways I hope you liked it!!

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