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wambsgansshoelaces · 5 months

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Turmoil; Chapter 1

Roman Roy x fem!Reader -read the rest here!

Prompt: slowburn romantic drama, arranged marriage plot line

a/n: thank you to anon for requesting! if you requested this fic, please tell me so I can tag you! I apologize if this reads as unrealistic or too dramatic- but please let me know your thoughts!

Word Count: 2.358k

Nothing. You’d turned yourself into something from nothing.

You’d ended up in New York on your own, running from your past, vying for a fresh start. With a degree from Harvard law in your pocket and an unsatiated hunger for success, it only took one case to change your fortune.

Your boss had pawned the case off on you because it seemed impossible. A man charged for real property fraud, and heaps of evidence to prove it. You initially thought you’d pawn the case off to some other schmuck, until you’d been given an anonymous tip and found a discrepancy in a bit of evidence that unraveled the opposition’s entire case.

It was a massive win- not just for you, but for your entire firm -and it came with a massive raise.

A few years later, you’d amassed an egregious amount of money in total and even more respect from those around you, so you quit and founded your own firm. You’re thankful for everything you have. You stay humble, you’re likable, and you make sure everyone in your employment is as well. It keeps you afloat- New York loves you, but more importantly, they trust you.

It earns you millions.

You’re happy with the life you lead. You frequent charity events, donating whenever you can, staying kind. You know what kindness can feel like during a period of misery. You remember what relief felt like when extended a hand, so you extend yours whenever you can.

You help the people around you. You’re kind to everyone, conduct yourself with grace, and are aware of yourself and those around you.

Maybe that’s why Logan Roy chose you.

He’d written to you a week ago, inviting you to dinner to discuss business prospects. You assume he’s gotten himself into a legal pickle involving some of his questionable activity which some regard as criminal.

When you enter the restaurant, one of his men spawn at your side and lead you into the dimly lit back where nobody is sitting. Your heels click on the marble, your gait not wavering.

“Mr. Roy,” you say when you see him. He gets up, albeit very slowly, and shakes your hand.

“Y/L/N in the flesh.” He sits back down and gestures to the seat across from him. You oblige. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself.”

“I do my best.”

He beckons over a passing waiter. “Get her whatever she wants. Put it on my tab.”

You quietly order a small appetizer and watch him watch you.

“Well, Mr. Roy, I hate beating around the bush. Why am I here?”

“The first case you worked on. Do you remember that man’s name? The one you proved innocent?”

“Connor Frost. I don’t forget. Never showed his face once.”

“About him. For witness protection and press reasons, we were allowed to alter his name in the official papers. We also got away with him never being there.”

Your heart misses a beat.

“Connor Roy was on trial for real property fraud, and you proved him innocent,” he continues. You school your face into neutrality. You get a sick feeling in your stomach that won’t stop growing and gnawing at you. It threatens to eat you inside out. “I hate to burst your bubble, but he was guilty. Fucking stupid, it was.”

You blink. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but-”

Logan’s eyes never leave yours. “But nothing. The deed you found in Connor’s name? Forged. And the people who forged it were paid more than enough to never think of speaking about it in court. You couldn’t have known it was fake, so you took it to trial and won. I practically bankrolled that raise of yours.” You can feel yourself begin to itch. “Initially, there was never any need to tell you. If I had things my way, I’d have let you live your life doing whatever the fuck you wanted. But my son had other plans.” As if he didn’t just reveal that your first case was a joke, he offers you some wine. You quickly decline. You feel like you’re going to puke all over him.

“Kendall. You know Kendall.” His voice drips with venom. “Would’ve given everything to him, but he obviously has different ideas for the company. I can’t let him take it now. He’ll fuck up everything I’ve worked for and put into place at Waystar. And I’m not giving the company to the idiot who accidentally committed fraud to the point of felony, or the one who’s running around the world with her dumb fucking political bullshit. That leaves me with one son. So the company has to go to him.”

Logan tops off his glass of wine. “But, by God’s grace, this leftover son is the fucking stupidest of them all.”

You have no idea how this has anything to do with you.

“Let me be clear, Miss Y/L/N. I respect you. You’re a fantastic attorney. I’d have you on retainer- I will, once my current contract with that Frederica jackass runs out. But you must forgive me for all of this. I have to do what needs to be done.”

He inhales, then sighs. “For you to take control without me losing public face, I want you and my son to come to an agreement in a partnership.”

You have to give him the dumbest fucking look for him to respond with, “Marry him. I need you to marry him.”

“I’m sorry?” You can barely keep your composure. You think you’re dreaming, or someone spiked your water, or you’re dead, or anything but this.

“I can’t have him in control. I can pretend like he is, sure, but I need someone with a brain at the helm.”

“I… my degree is in criminal law. I have no idea how the corporate, let alone financial world runs.” It’s all you can think of to say.

He waves you off. “You’ll learn.”

You don’t know what to say. You probably look like a fish, mouth hung open as you gape at him. “Surely someone else is better suited to this than me. I won’t. I can’t.”

“This is why I had to apologize,” he mutters. “Do as I say, and our secret is kept. Walk away, the tabloids will learn of a little lady who buried and forged evidence to win her first court case.”

“You can’t be serious. I thought it was real!”

“The public doesn’t know that. Regardless, I’ve done worse. I’ve ruined stronger, more powerful people with much less.”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I suppose you’ve left me with no choice,” you grit out.

Logan smiles and claps his hands together. “Welcome to the family.” Your appetizer finally comes and is set in front of you. You don’t feel that hungry anymore. “What are you waiting for? Eat!”

He takes a bit of calamari from you. “I think it goes without saying,” he says, “that if you say anything about this conversation we’ve had, you’ll end up prosecuted and in jail for fraud.”

☾𖤓

You feel like you could punch a hole into the wall. You can’t believe it. It’s pure dumb fucking luck that you got caught in this.

Logan Roy didn’t choose you for your legal prowess, or any of your skill or ability like you’d stupidly believed. He chose you because he has control over you, and he knows it.

A few days pass, and you begrudgingly drag yourself out of your rotting place in bed. Cursing yourself the entire time, you change into something nice. Logan told you he was throwing a party in your name, to introduce you to the family- and the inner circle, you knew.

If anything, you think to yourself, you look fucking good.

You’re not prepared for the onslaught of paparazzi that bombards you the moment you step out of the house.

That bastard must’ve told the press about your engagement.

There’s nothing you can do but get into the black sedan waiting for you at the bottom of your driveway. You’re probably going to have to move, now.

You sit in the backseat, simmering the entire drive. You have to prepare yourself for the hell that’ll be stiff arming paparazzi to get to the party.

When you pull up, you take a deep breath, and step out the car. The man sitting in the passenger seat got out before you and walks out in front of you, another flanking you as you push through the chaos.

The flashes are almost blinding, but you keep your eyes open. Every picture taken tonight is going to be circulated tenfold by not even tomorrow morning. You hope you have resting bitch face in all of them.

Your miniature guard manages to get you inside with no issues. You’re late on purpose, and it seems like the room goes quiet when you enter.

The crowd stares back at you as you survey them. As much as your rage is telling you to make a scene, you won’t. Time and place, you tell yourself.

Immediately, you can tell Connor recognizes you. He tries to avoid your gaze, but your rage bubbles up and out of you. “Mind if I steal him for chat?” you ask the girl standing with him, voice painfully faux-sweet. You feel like you’re on Love Island, in some sick, twisted way.

The girl gives Connor an awkward pat on the arm before leaving him be. You can feel peoples’ eyes burning into the back of your head.

“You told me,” you begin, voice dangerously low, “that you didn’t do it.”

He looks everywhere but at you. “I was just doing what I had to.”

“Was fucking me over what you had to do? Because I feel like that’s all you did,” you hiss.

“Do you really think someone like me is going to ever go to jail?” Connor scoffs. “It could damage my reputation.”

“It could damage my reputation,” you mock. “Are you fucking stupid? Fucking God.”

You turn to leave, but immediately pivot back. “You’re a Roy. You would’ve been bailed out immediately. You wouldn’t have even gone to jail for an hour.”

You’re fuming. You’re barely holding it together.

Then, you catch the eyes of a man not that much taller than you, dressed in all crisp black. He’s handsome, you think, a light stubble dotting his jaw and soft eyes that wrinkle gently when he smiles.

He excuses himself from the conversation he’s having to come to you and Connor.

“Connor. You’ve met my lovely bride-to-be?”

You’re back to fuming, any thoughts of his beauty gone.

He sticks his hand out to you. “Roman Roy. Nice to meet you, I’m your fiancé.” His voice is painfully bitter.

“You think I want this any more than you do?” you ask under your breath, your handshake way too firm. His grip on your hand is equally as tight.

Connor snorts. “At least act like you like each other.”

“You’re the reason any of this happened. Keep yourself out of it,” you snap.

Roman sighs and turns away from Connor. “Can we go for a walk? We should probably have a word.” To your dismay, you agree.

As soon as you’re out of the main atrium and by yourselves in a grand hallway, you speak freely. “Listen, this is nothing personal,” you begin, “but I’m looking for a way out of this.”

Roman looks over at you as you walk, both of you going at a snail’s pace. “I don’t stink, do I?” He sticks his hands in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry this happened to you. I know he’s blackmailing you.”

You sigh. “I should’ve known something was wrong with the case when I never saw my fucking client in person.”

“Well, I want this over as quickly as you do. My father doesn’t want me anywhere near the company, and I’d like to change that.” You both stop walking to face each other. Maybe you two can be friends, despite everything.

“Let me make something clear, though.” Roman takes a step towards you, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “I’m only in this for me. Not you.”

Whatever positive thoughts you’d had were chased away. You spend the rest of the night fuming under your skin, lying through your teeth, and standing by yourself in the corner.

Siobhan Roy is the first to approach you.

“I admire you, you know.”

“Your father said that too, and look where I am now.”

She presses a flute of champagne into your hand. “I’m not my father.” You share a tense look. “Listen. I think we can do something good together,” she says lowly. “You want to disentangle yourself from this situation, and I want my father out of the picture when it comes to Waystar. Some of my clients have used your firm during political scandal. They all came away unscathed… I have full trust in your ability.”

“What do you want from me?”

“When the time comes,” Siobhan says, “I want you to help take my father to court. And put him down under. So to speak,” she adds. “And I’ll help make sure that if my father ever says anything about you, nobody believes it.”

After Siobhan, it’s Kendall.

“Shiv talked to you.” He’s worse at keeping conversation than she is. “I would also be involved in this. I’d take my dad’s place as CEO, Roman becomes COO.”

“I take him to court, I’m told.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do, and you win,” he says carefully. “And then you get so much money you can run away to some foreign country and forget any of this happened.”

You regard him carefully. “How can I trust you? Or Siobhan? Or anyone in this fucking place?”

Kendall pauses, and takes a moment to think. “You can’t,” is all he says before leaving you standing on your own once again.

Finally, Roman makes his way back to you. You bristle as you watch him approach. “I know you don’t really like me right now, but I want to go home and I can’t leave without you on my arm. So, shall we?”

You roll your eyes, but take his elbow anyway.

#roman roy #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #slowburn #roman roy slowburn #romantic drama #succession slowburn #x reader slowburn #wambsgansshoelaces #turmoil

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darlingshane · 4 months

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Salt of the Earth ~ Part 3 (Final)

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x OFC

Summary: She was Carmy's best friend growing up, and Michael never looked at her as anything other than that until years later when she comes back to Chicago to start over. In the process, she turns his sorry excuse of a life upside down.

Content/Warnings: 18+. Explicit, Friends to lovers, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Smut, Shower Sex, BJ's, P in V, Family Drama, Dysfunctional relationships, Addiction, Alcohol, Pets, Pet names, Dialogue heavy, Undisclosed age gap.

Word Count: 12.3k // Chapters 8-10 // AO3 Link.

— Part 1 (Chapters 1-4) // Part 2 (Chapters 5-7)

A/N: This part includes my version of the infamous 'Fishes' episode. Though having Maya in it changed a few things, most of it is pretty faithful to the actual script. I also borrowed some of the dialogue to keep it as close as possible.

Chapter 8: As warm as toast

Maya is hugging Michael’s back when the warm breath of her dog is pressed against her ear. She tells the dog to go back to sleep, but Coco, ignoring her request, whines a couple of times until Maya has no choice but to get up. Though it's still terribly early, she takes Coco out to the park down the street from Michael’s building. It's freezing outside, but that doesn’t stop Coco from zooming across the park a hundred times until she’s spent while Maya paces along the fence, wrapped in thick layers of hat, scarf, mittens and a bulky coat.

Upon their return, Maya fills Coco’s bowl and makes some coffee.

They’ve fallen into a nice routine with Michael. He’s made room in his life for them, as much as they’ve welcomed him open into theirs. Half a week they spent in his apartment, and the other half at Maya’s house.

While she sips on her coffee, she tries to guess what's inside the big wrapped box that has been sitting in Michael’s living room for a week. Curiosity has been killing her since she saw it the other day. Her fingers tap on one of the sides and lightly pull on the edge of the red and white paper, trying to sneak a peek of the box.

“I told you to leave that alone, Maybird. That’s not for you.” Michael catches her red-handed as he comes out of the bedroom.

“C’mon, Bear, let me open it already. It’s Christmas.”

“Uh-uh, it’s Christmas Eve.”

“Is it a sex swing? It feels like a sex swing.” She keeps tapping on the box.

“It's not a sex swing. Keep guessing.” Michael snorts, leaning over to kiss her good morning. “Your face is cold, did you go out?”

“Uh-huh.” She glances at Coco, who’s currently devouring her food by the kitchen. “She woke me up and dragged me outside.”

“At least she knows how to hold it and ask for the head.” Michael goes around the breakfast bar to fill a mug with coffee. “Remember that yorkie that Francie had that couldn’t stop peeing everywhere.”

“Well, training goes a long way.”

“That's what everyone kept telling her, but her parents ended up leaving a poor thing in the kennel.”

“I mean it's Francie. I'm not surprised. She really can't be trusted to take care of anything. How's she? I haven't seen her in ages.”

“She's around. I think. Last time I saw her was probably a couple of years ago. She’s banned from our house.”

“Why?”

“Beats me. It's a Sugar thing. I think Francie tried to hit on Pete or something. You'll have to ask Sug.”

“Really? Just when I thought she couldn’t sink lower.”

“Tell me about it.” He pulls up his sweats as he takes a seat on the couch next to her.

“Okay, stop trying to distract me. So, if it’s not a sex swing, or a pizza oven, which I really wanted by the way…”

“The sex swing?” He lifts a brow at her and takes a sip of his mug.

“The pizza oven, smartass. How about… a weighted blanket?”

“First, you don’t need any of those. You can cook pizza already in your oven, and why do you need a weighted blanket or a sex swing when you have me?”

“That’s true.”

“You know what? Go ahead and open it, but you’re gonna need Coco, cause like I told you, that’s not for you. C’mere Coco Girl.”

Coco’s floppy ears perk up at Michael’s call. The dog turns her head to look at Michael for a second before continuing chewing her food.

“She’s too busy to open presents right now.”

“Figures.”

They wait till she’s done, and Maya beams in delight, quickly tearing apart the flashy wrapping paper. That delight turns into a mocking frown when she finds out it’s a big, fluffy dog bed for Coco.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding. It’s not for me.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous, sweetheart. You know I have something else for you. She needed a bed here. This couch is so uncomfortable, no even a dog wants to lay here. She’s always either hoarding the bed or sleeping on the rug.”

“Yeah, I know.” Her lips curve up, watching Coco inspect her present before attempting to curl inside. “That’s it, baby, lay down. Good girl.”

“Are we still up for tomorrow?”

Maya sighs, “yeah, I think so. Did you tell them I was coming?”

“I said you might. Just in case you change your mind.”

“Do you want me to change my mind?”

“No,” he strokes her hair with his free hand. “I really want you there.”

“What are we going to tell, y’know… everyone?”

Everyone – meaning Carmy. Though their relationship is practically nonexistent, the last thing she wants to do is show up holding hands with Michael and flaunt it on anyone’s face without a warning.

“Well, Richie is the only one who knows.” Cause he caught them last week making out at their usual bar. “I guess Tiff knows too. Does it freak you out? Do you wanna back out now?”

“No, no. I just… I guess I’m not ready to announce it on a day like this. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s okay, baby. I get it. It’s driving me crazy, too.”

“If they find out, that’s great, but I don’t just wanna put it out there right away.”

“We’ll just have to keep a low profile, then. How hard can it be?”

“I’ve never had a secret relationship before. It could be fun pretending, even if it’s just for a few hours.”

“We just have to hope Richie doesn’t blow our cover.”

“Oh, we’re screwed.”

“I don’t know about that. But I can tell someone is about to get screwed. Shower?” His brow playfully arches.

“Hmm, you’ve read my mind.”

It’s that rush of excitement of being with someone new that leads them quickly to the bathroom. He undresses her just as fast as she pulls his sweats and underwear off him. He hasn’t finished taking off her bra and his lips automatically invite themselves into her neck as she fumbles to get the water going so it warms up before stepping inside.

Under the warm spray of the water, their bodies fuse together. Lips against lips share a vicious amount of kisses and laughs. Their arms tangle around the other, her hands become his, and vice versa. The steam filling the room boils hotter when Michael turns Maya around and presses himself on her ass while one of his hands slides between her legs. Her palms brace the tiled wall, as his mouth bites the flesh at the curve of her neck. Her moans and curses sound like heaven when the blunt tip of his cock slides into her opening. His hips push painfully slow as her walls stretch inch after inch. Once he’s fully sheathed in her tender pussy, his eyes squeeze shut, he lets his desire guide the pacing of his thrusts. Maya waves her hips at the same time, countering his moves until both find the same rhythm. One of his hands clutches the curve of her ass, keeping her secured, as the other stays right on her pussy, rubbing her swollen clit with passion.

His back turns red as the hot water keeps pouring over him. The fiery pressure rising up in his core makes his cock throb inside her. He looks down to see his length disappear inside her fast with each push. At the same time, his mind dissipates somewhere up, above the mist of the bathroom, somewhere above clouds. It’s like he’s traded one addiction for another. As long as he’s with her, he’s safe. It’s not the healthiest way to deal with it, but right now he doesn’t give a shit. The climb to that high is way faster, it feels better, it’s less toxic, but it lasts shorter. That’s the only downside.

“Michael… please,” her breathing swallows, as she inches close to the finish line.

“I know, sweetheart, shh…. Come for me. C’mon…”

Following her plea, he pushes a little harder, rubs a little faster until her body seizes up. She lets out a strained moan that bounces off the steamed walls, as her opening contracts around him harder than he’s ever felt. Maybe it’s the position. It feels like pure bliss to have her squeezing every last drop of him.

Catching his own breath, he hangs his head down to rest on her nape for a moment. While still riding that high, he slowly slips out of her and drops to his knees on the shower floor. His hands handle her body around so she's facing him. As her abdomen lines up with his face, he glances up to capture her glowing aura, stunning as ever. Maya’s still floating in that same sea of ecstasy he floats on. It makes her look like a goddess from his position. Her dark hair cascades over her shoulders, sticks to her skin as it touches the curves of her chest. Water trails down her body as if she was standing under a waterfall. And like the Goddess she is, he aims to devout himself only to her.

He gently holds one of her legs up, letting his lips glide across the surface of her thigh as he drapes her leg over his shoulder. His mouth waters as it gets closer to her center. Licking his lips, his eager tongue just to taste the heaven between her legs. It's slicked and tender, ready to consume. His mouth fits perfectly against it. Wide open. Desperate to please her with the flick of his tongue and ease his own affliction.

Maya leans her back on the wall, anchors her only feet hard to the floor, and grips at his soaked hair as his tongue works restlessly all over her sex. He sucks her clit between his lips, licks her folds, circles her dripping opening, and revels in tasting both, him and her. In a wild frenzy, he devours it all. It consumes his need and desperation for more. Her moans are exquisite. Her body writhes in his hold as she rises up gracefully to a higher plane.

Chapter 9: Bigger fishes to fry

“Are you really going to wear that?” Asks Maya as soon as she sees the outfit Michael has chosen for Christmas dinner.

“What’s wrong with this?” He gazes at his blue Under Armour shirt and jeans ensemble.

“Workout shirt, jeans and kicks, really? Why don’t you put on a nice sweater at least?”

“Baby, it’s just dinner at my house with the same fucking people I see every year. It's not like the Queen of England is gonna show up to have tea and biscuits.”

“C’mon, Bear, do it for me?” Maya pulls out her big adorable eyes and disarming smile.

“Ugh, alright, only for you.” Unable to resist her power, he easily yields and goes into his bedroom. From a drawer, he collects a dark blue fisherman sweater. Then he sticks his hand into the closet to pick up the vintage jacket she bought him for his birthday. To finish his new getup, he trades his sneakers for ankle boots.

Maya is taking out a dessert from the fridge that she bought this morning to take to The Berzattos.

“Wow,” her head turns when hearing his footfalls. “See, you look so much better now.”

“Yeah? You clean up pretty nice too,” he picks up her hand and makes her spin under his arm, capturing the stunning shape of her body hugged in a cream knitted dress that almost touches her knees. Right below, black leather boots cover the rest of her legs.

“Thanks, handsome bear.” After her spin, her head tilts to the side, capturing a chaste kiss from his lips.

“What’s that?” Michael points at the dish covered in tin foil on the breakfast bar.

“It's a strawberry tart.”

“You made a tart?” He lifts part of the foil to uncover the well-crafted pastry.

“What? Surprised that this tart made a tart?”

“Well, yeah. You almost poisoned me the last time you cooked.”

“You got me. I didn't make it. I bought it this morning when I took Coco out.”

Michael softly chuckles. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring that. Have you forgotten about pudding-gate? Donna's going to eat you alive if you show up with food.”

“Oh, I think that night was the first time I got drunk. I don't remember the details. But I do remember the pudding and eating a bowl with Carmy in the garage. Who brought it?”

“Uncle Jimmy's first wife.”

“That's right. She was never seen again after that. Okay, I guess I could bring a bottle of wine.”

“You're gonna make me look bad if I show up with nothing.”

“You could bring the tart, and say that you made it. I bet Donna will be delighted if it comes from the golden child.”

“That's a great idea, baby. It'll be a great distraction when she starts strangling me that people won't even notice this other tart.” His hand boldly squeezes her ass.

“Hey!” she swats his shoulder with the back of her hand. “I thought we agreed to keep our hands off each other.”

“I meant later. Here, I can still get a piece if I want.” He links his arms around her waist and peppers the curve of her neck with kisses, making her laugh with the coarse tickle of his beard.

“Oh, this is gonna be harder than I thought,” she whines when his lips nibble her earlobe.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” He laughs against her ear, gripping tightly at her hips. “I’m not sure how long I can make it without touching you like this.”

“Well, we better think of something…”

Ready to go, they hop in the car and drop Coco first at Maya’s house. While Michael waits in the car she collects a bottle of wine to bring for dinner.

It’s then that she gets jittery about the whole ordeal. It’s been years since she attended one of their functions. Christmas at the Berzattos was never a walk in the park, and as she has heard recently, they still aren’t. But she’s not the one to talk cause the Silvas have always had their own issues, proof of that is her desertion from her own family dinner.

“Okay, kiss me one more time,” she requests after parking at the end of the street. They both lean in to meet in the middle over the center console for a chaste kiss. “One more.”

Michael delves into her mouth a little deeper, hoping it’d ease her up.

As they walk up to the house, they pass Maya’s empty childhood home, and Michael just wraps an arm around her and kisses her hair.

“Their loss,” he mumbles. “Don’t think about them, Maybird.”

“I won’t.”

His arm unfurls away from her body as they get closer to the Berzattos’ house. When they reach the door, they stay there for a minute, filling their lungs with cold air as they muster the courage to cross the threshold.

The house is loud with people talking and laughing when they step inside.

Maya can see Michael's face changing as the door closes behind them. That raw vulnerability, his bashful expression he's not afraid to show her slips once again behind that mask he's fought so hard to get rid of. She can't hold it against him. Everyone has their coping mechanisms and this is Michael's.

She becomes suddenly the new sensation, everyone openly welcomes her as if they hadn't seen her in ages. Which is actually the case. She's bombarded with questions she doesn't really want to answer like — How are your parents? How does it feel being back? Are you seeing someone?

Mirroring Michael's, she just draws her best smile and tries to satisfy their curiosity while Michael takes a smoke break with Sugar leaving her to be eaten by wolves before she can protest.

To Maya’s disbelief, after the third degree, she’s welcomed with open arms by Donna Berzatto, who is just as intense as she remembers. Hair on point, makeup on point, fresh manicure softly scratches Maya’s jaw when she briefly holds her face.

“We've missed you, Mayhem Maya.” Donna actually coined that nickname after that incident when she broke one of her figurines when she was a kid. And she'd never live that down. It makes her feel like a child every time she calls her that or the way she manages to compliment her and patronize her at the same time.

“Hey,” she hears the familiar voice as Donna disappears into the kitchen.

Maya turns around to see Carmy climbing down the stairs.

“Hey, you made it,” she says a little hesitant, trying to decide whether to hug him or just shake his hand as he reaches the last step.

“You too.”

Hug. She goes for it and tucks her arms around his shoulders for no more than two seconds. It feels a little awkward and cold given their history but understandable. They're not as close anymore, and it doesn't come as natural as it used to. She tries to internalize that as best as she can, but there’s still something that doesn’t feel right. Maybe this wasn’t the best moment to show up back again into his life. Being Michael’s girlfriend, no less. Perhaps deciding to hide that wasn’t the best choice after all. It sounded reasonable when she chose that, but right now, it feels like she’s betraying him.

“How's Copenhagen?”

“Cold. How is being back?”

“Weird.”

“Tell me about it… Never thought I'd see you again in one of these functions.”

“Yeah, Michael insisted. You knew I was coming, right?”

He nods. “Sugar told me.”

They shoot back and forth meaningless questions without really diving into anything substantial. For the first time, she looks at his cold blue eyes and realizes they're not best friends anymore. She might have known everything about him once upon a time, but now it feels like talking to a stranger, and it breaks her heart not being able to pass that invisible wall between them.

Maya stares at him one last time as they are interrupted by the rest of the party. He’s dragged to a mindless conversation with Neil and Ted Fak, while Michelle brings Maya a drink and settles with her on the couch to catch up.

Carmy manages to escape the Faks and asks for some help from his siblings that were hiding outside.

Michael does another quick round before disappearing again somewhere with Richie.

“I thought you weren’t serious about bringing her.” Richie takes him to the garage where they open a couple of beers.

“I was dead serious. And please, don’t say anything. Tonight, we’re just friends, alright?” he gives him a menacing look.

“You’re dead for sure when Carmy finds out. Don’t get me wrong I love Maya, but is she all that? Is she worth the trouble, Cousin?”

“She’s all that and a basket of biscuits.”

Soon, Michael thinks. Soon everyone will know how much he loves her but for now, this is for the best. This is what she wants and he respects that.

When they go back into the house, Michael goes checking if she needs a break from socializing. Figures, she probably does as much as he does. She's not in the living room anymore, or anywhere on the first floor. He climbs upstairs and from the cracked door to his room, he finds her snooping around the bedroom with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Hey. What are you doing up here?”

“The bathroom downstairs was occupied, so I came up here, and I realized I never really saw your room. Was it always like this?”

“Kinda. It’s cleaner for starters. The walls used to be covered in Red Sox merchandise and movie posters. It’s all in the basement at The Beef now.”

“Traitor,” Maya mockingly squints her eyes before taking a sip of her glass.

“Why do you care, you don’t even watch baseball?”

“Yeah, but if I had to pick I wouldn’t even dream of going against my own home team,” she says, scanning a pile of CD’s on the corner of the desk and picking one from the middle. “Marky Mark, really? Who are you?”

“That’s Sugar’s.”

“Sure it is,” she laughs.

“This is why you came up here, to make fun of me?”

“Nope, I just like snooping.” She turns around and keeps flicking through those albums while Michael shuts the door to seize that as an opportunity to kiss her again.

“Hey, c’mere.” Quickly wetting his lips, he cups her face as it turns to the side and gently captures the flavor of her mouth soaked in white wine.

“Hmm, we’re a lost cause,” she says as his lips bounce a few times against her.

“I know.” Michael hums, unable to stop himself from going deeper into her mouth.

As she places her glass on the desk, his tongue swipes past her lips.

Michael moves his hands to her hips, as Maya links her arms around his neck, letting her tongue slowly play with his.

His mouth grows hungrier and desperate for more. She can feel it at the eager tip of his tongue demanding more action. He blindly guides Maya to the bed, and almost without breaking from the other, as she settles on her back, he pushes all the coats people left on his bed to the side. Michael lies on top of her, nestling between her legs, claiming ferociously another kiss from her mouth.

From zero to sixty, his hand slips beneath the hem of her dress and hikes the skirt up to her waist to grab her ass. He digs his fingers on her skin over her tights. He could rip the fabric apart in a second if he pressed a little harder.

Maya hums in his mouth, struggling to keep up with the burning passion he's pouring into her lips as the coarse texture of his beard scratches her face.

The setting is a little off-putting for her right now no matter how much she wants him and as his bulge hardens between her legs, she promptly puts a halt on.

“Michael, baby, shh. We can’t do this here.”

“We’re just making out. The door is closed.”

“We’re not just making out. You’re already hard. What if someone comes in?”

“There’s a lock on the door. I closed it.”

“The lock is not the problem. It's this place. This house.”

“The house is cock-blocking you?”

“Pretty much. Yeah. Let’s just take a breath and go back down. We’ll finish this later at home. See, this is why we can’t be left alone.”

“Okay,” he begrudgingly rolls to the side with a sigh, feeling a little disappointed to be honest and stares at the ceiling. “Is it the house or is it Carmy being here?”

“I don't know. Maybe both.” She leans on her elbow to look at him.

“I see.”

“It’s not like I don’t want to. I do. More than you know, Bear. I just feel weird about doing this right here. We said the other day that we should be honest with each other to make this work. And this is me being honest.”

“I know, baby. I get it. I just… All I wanna do is be with you right now. Can't stop thinking about you. That’s why this happens…” he gestures vaguely as his crotch.

“Now, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to give you blue balls. I know how much that hurts.”

“I don’t think you do,” he snorts.

“I’m sorry,” her palm covers her smile. “I really am. But I… I guess I could do something about it. Don’t move.”

Maya’s fingers glide over his crotch to undo his fly.

“Wait, are you changing your mind?”

“No, but I don’t wanna leave you like that either. Just trust me.” She shifts on the bed as her hand slides under the fabric to feel the pressure of his straining erection.

Biting her lip, she locks eyes with him as her fist curls around his shaft as Michael’s hand wraps around hers.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I wanna. Just because I can’t, doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t. Let me do this for you. Please.”

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” he sighs, letting her hand move up and down his hardness.

“I know. Just relax for me. I'll make it quick.”

Maya leans closer to his face to lock her lips with his. His low grunts echo in her mouth while her fist prompts him to spill his early drops of arousal. They help her pump more swiftly. He has to bury his sounds deep in his throat when she parts from his mouth and moves her head down his torso so he can finish him with a blow.

“Fuck, Maybird,” he moans as her lips wrap tightly around his swollen gland. Her hand keeps a nice pressure at the base as her head bobs quickly to have him climaxing all over her tongue.

She cleans him up, licks her lips and makes sure nothing was spilled on their clothes before taking a long swig of the glass of wine on the desk to get rid of the aftertaste of his cum.

“God, sweetheart, that was…” he stands up and pulls his clothes together while she finishes her drink. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

“You better.” She collects a pocket mirror from her purse to check her makeup. As she moves Michael's jacket out of the way, something falls from its pocket — a round pill container lands at her feet.

She means to bend down and pick up, but she freezes. It's Michael the one to reach and grab it. Maya stiffens, stares at him as he quickly tucks in his pocket. Unable to process any thought at all, she pins that in her head to revise later. As she intended to do, she fixes her hair and makeup.

Michael should have left those at home. He didn’t even mean to grab them. It was just exactly that– a habit he can’t break yet. Especially on a night like this.

“Hey,” he says softly, holding her chin under his finger and tilts her head up so he can capture her eyes. “We'll talk about it later, okay?”

“Okay.”

She checks her face in the mirror a second time to make sure there’s no visual signs of her just going down on Michael before leaving the room.

Their hands are still linked together when they step into the hallway, and it isn't until they spot Natalie coming from another room that they quickly pull them apart.

So much for being sneaky… There's no way she didn't see that. The shock flashing across her face is telling.

“Michael, can I talk to you?”

“We should go downstairs before… Carmy can't handle all those people.”

“This won't take a minute,” she says firmly.

He glances at Maya, and they nod at the other.

As Maya returns to the party, Sugar can't help but question Michael about it.

“I don't know what you saw, but it's not what you think, Sug.”

“You came out of your room holding hands. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to put two and two together. Are you dating her?”

“Would you have a problem with that?”

“I don't know… It's just… She's Maya. She practically grew up here. In this house. She and Carmy were… you haven't told him, have you?”

“Nobody knows yet. Well, just Richie. But it hasn't been going on for long, and we just thought it'd be best to wait.”

“And you brought her here tonight?”

“I didn't want her to spend the night alone. Do you think it's weird, me and her?”

“I don’t think it’s weird. I… I guess it's a little unexpected. It just caught me off guard. If you had given me a warning…”

“You wouldn't be so shocked. I'm sorry. I wanna tell everyone, but it's all so new, and she's…”

“Maya.”

“Yeah.”

“Look, it's an adjustment, but if you're happy with her, then I'm happy, Bear. Does she make you happy?”

“She does,” he smiles bashfully.

When Michael and Natalie join the rest, Cicero and his wife arrive. Uncle Lee follows.

The delicious smell of food cooking fills every nook with the house and Maya's stomach rumbles under layers of wine. She desperately needs to soak all that alcohol before it's too late.

She goes into the kitchen to find Michael casually leaning on the counter bantering with his mother as she works against the clock, cooking those seven fishes that’s the staple dish of her house.

“You doing good?” He gives Maya a look as she props her hands on the breakfast bar.

“Hm-hm.”

“You hungry too?” He guesses and Maya only nods at his question as Donna points at the meatball casserole on the counter.

“Here,” Michael grabs one meatball from the casserole, dabs the sauce on the edge so it drips as he lifts it up to her mouth. His eyes light up as she carefully bites half of it directly from his fingers. Then he shoves the other half into his mouth. Smiling at the other, both thinking about what they did earlier as they fight the urge of eating each other's mouths again.

A beat after, Maya looks to the side to see Carmy standing by the door as Donna barks something at him. She swallows, watching people come and go out of the kitchen. The timer goes off as voices get louder all around. Maya helps herself to another drink in the middle of the whirlwind of chaos of the heart of the house while Carmy takes him upon himself to organize the mess of the kitchen against Donna's wishes.

“Ma, why don't you let him help you? It's all he fucking does.” Michael picks up another meatball and offers it again to Maya, but she declines this time.

“What was that?” Carmy glances annoyed at Michael. “Like uh, that was a shot or…”

“Wasn’t a fucking shot.”

“Mikey, he’s helping me. Back off.”

“Yeah, that was a shot.” Carmen states more sternly this time. “I'm the guy that does food. You're the guy that what? You-you, uh… You start 100 different businesses and have zero follow-through.”

“You’re the one to talk,” Maya rolls her eyes, taking a long sip of her wine.

“Yeah, what are you doing here? Thought you had a husband.”

“Wow. Leave her out of this, Carm. She’s here cause I asked her to.”

“It’s fine, Michael. Let Annie Oakley take her shots at me.”

“Okay, this is why I didn't wanna come home. This is why.”

“Fuck you!” Donna shouts.

“What the fuck? Why the fuck would you say that?” Michael raises his voice. “It's fuckin' Christmas. Why would you say something like that?”

“Whatever, okay? Whatever.”

“Maya, sweetie, can you bring some ice from the freezer in the garage?” Asks Donna in the middle of the argument, and she just silently agrees.

All their voices ebb as Maya disappears into the hallway that leads to the garage to grab some ice and pull herself together. She stays there for longer than she should, collecting her thoughts and checking her phone for all her friends and co-workers messages and sending some of her own. Her eyes pull away from the screen when the door swings open.

She tucks her phone in her pocket as Carmy climbs down the two steps into the room.

“What are you doing here?”

“Grabbing some ice.” She glances at the freezer where her ass is propped.

“No. I mean, why did you come here at all?”

She shrugs, folding her arms against her stomach.

“Michael invited me.”

“It’s pretty fucking weird, don’t you think?”

“Why? I used to come here all the time when we were kids. Hell, the first time I got drunk was right in this garage with you.”

“Yeah, that’s my point. You and I aren’t friends anymore, Maya. It doesn’t make sense that you’d come anymore.”

“You've made that clear but hey, you’re the one who stopped talking to me in the first place.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. I’m not psychic, Carmen.”

“Doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“No? It matters to me.”

“Guess I got tired of waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me? You’re completely delusional, you know that?”

“Am I? I thought you were different, but you’re just…”

“Just what? Are you going to call me a slut or something? You better watch your mouth.”

“No. You’re… reckless.”

“I'm reckless? For what? Living my life? Growing up? Marrying another guy?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d rather be reckless than be anything like you, Carmen. You think you're better than me, than anyone in here, but you're not. You're conceited. You've always looked at everyone down from your ivory tower like you've never made a mistake in your life. You said you were waiting for me? You had many opportunities to say what you felt, and you never did, why is that? Because you’re a fuckin’ coward. I’ve watched string along girls you weren’t into for longer than you should have. Anytime anyone has shown you an ounce of love, you’ve run the other way. You've shut down me and everyone out cause you don’t know how to love anyone but your self-righteous, narcissistic ass.”

“That’s rich coming for someone who’s fucking my brother.” His voice comes out deeply loud as Maya swallows. “You think I’m dumb? It’s written all over your face.”

Her posture stiffens all of a sudden. She opens her mouth to contradict his words, but she can't. It's pointless. He's chosen to attack, and she's going to stand and take blow after blow without throwing some of her own.

“You had your chance, Carmen, and you never took it. And the worst part is that you expected me to do something about it, but it really wasn’t up to me. I’m sorry I never felt anything for you… but I don’t think you ever loved me like you wanted either. You only thought you did cause I was there all the time. It was easy, right? We were friends. Best friends. And you ruined that.”

“So did you.”

“Yeah, we can agree on that.”

“It’s fucked-up, y’know?”

“What is?”

“You and my brother.”

“You know what’s fucked up?” She pegs him with a harsh twisted brow. “You. Coming here judging everyone and pretending you know anything about me or him. Say, when was the last time you said I love you just cause you wanted to and not because someone said it first? When was the last time you were in a relationship that lasted more than two dates? When was the last time you woke up next to someone and the thought of leaving them ripped your heart apart? I'd rather take risks and be called reckless than feel nothing, do nothing, say nothing at all, and turn into a bitter asshole like you.”

Maya walks past him and heads out the door without giving him the opportunity to respond.

As tears threaten to come out, she stops in her tracks and draws a fortifying breath to keep herself from falling apart. Though she knew sooner or later she’d have to deal with Carmy, that conversation was truly more difficult to deal with than she expected. She couldn't handle that better if he wasn't acting like an asshole.

Disheartened… Maya feels just at home. It really is no different from being with her own family. Next year, she swears she's going to take a trip or just stay at home with Coco, which sounds like something she should've done today. Coming here tonight was a mistake. If she could turn back time to earlier in the day and convince herself to stay at home she would.

In the never-ending night of riffs, she overhears Donna yelling at Natalie in the kitchen as she crosses the hallway. In the living room, Michael has everyone's attention while telling one of his stories. Every one seems entertained except for Uncle Lee that has to poke the bear as usual.

It feels like an eternity until dinner is finally served it doesn't get better once everyone is sitting at the table. No. Because, of course, there can't be a moment of peace, everything escalates from that point.

Maya’s taking a swallow of her glass when Lee starts telling the story about the seven fishes and the Dutch oven when Michael makes a buzzing sound and throws a fork at him. It hits his shoulder.

“Wrong answer.”

“Did you just throw a fork at me?” Lee's high-pitched tone breaks.

“I did,” Michael snorts.

They both start bitching back and forth. The tension strains harder after every word, every sentence interrupted, every thought unfinished.

She places her glass down as the animated conversation grows more heated by the second. The voices get louder. There's a countdown hovering over the table showing how many seconds are left for the bomb to go off. Maya hears the ticking in her head, or maybe that's just the sound of her own heart racing.

In the heat of the moment, Michael borrows a second fork from Fak and repeats the same action. This time he misses Lee's head by an inch.

Everyone tries to put off the fire before it rises, but Michael is too far gone into his own head, nobody can talk sense into him.

“Cousin, you're scaring the normals.” Richie nervously laughs.

“This is fine. It's nothing.”

“Mikey, can you hear me, buddy?”

“Not now, Stevie.”

“Cut it out.”

“Hey, look, here's the thing.” He leans back on his chair ignoring everyone. “You see, I can throw forks cause this is our father's house. My father's house.”

“Okay you have everyone's attention so go ahead, tell us a story we've all heard a million times already.”

“That's good Lee.” He laughs manically while Lee goes on a rant about him living off his mom and borrowing money from everyone.

“… I don't know what the fuck you're on, but if you can hear me through the fog, throw another fork at me, you're gonna get fuckin’ rocked!”

There's a long moment of silence. Michael scratches his beard and gazes to his side, where Maya is sitting trying to process the whole thing happening before her eyes.

“Hey, Maybird.” He says softly, and waits until she looks at him. “I just… You think I could just borrow that for one second…” he points at her fork.

“Michael don't,” she tries to say, but the rest of the table speaks louder over her voice.

“It's okay, baby.” It slips out as he picks up her fork. “This is fine. I’m fine.”

“Michael. Please don't do this!” It's Natalie's words that stand out over the others. “Hey!” She calls his attention and when Michael glances at the opposite side of the table and Sugar lowers her voice. “I love you. Okay?”

“I love you, too, Sug.”

“I'm begging you. Don't do it.”

He vaguely nods. But he's dead set on making everyone shift in their chairs as the ridiculous dispute picks up again.

The flames touch the ceiling, and there's nothing she can do to smother the fire.

Maya nudges his thigh under the table with her knee, and says his name softly, hoping it'd be enough to calm him down. But it's too late, he's already so riled up that not even her can't stop him from rising from his chair, fork in hand taunting Lee non-stop.

Petrified, she stares at the man she loves, the one who looked like a dreamboat when she woke up next to him this morning, turning into something completely different. The cracks of his mask can't hold any longer. Behind it, it all slips out. His haunted expression taking over the rough edges of his face, the sorrow in his eyes, and his tired voice, makes her heart hurt.

“Bear.” She resorts to a term of endearment, but there is no use. He's on a different plane now, guided by his addiction.

Her eyes well up as Lee keeps repeating that he’s nothing. She can see his gears spinning in a different direction and for a moment everyone stays still watching everything unfold until Donna comes into the room.

That only puts a temporary patch on the wound. It's only a matter of time before someone takes it away to let blood spill all over the table. Michael sits back down, pushing his hair back before clutching the fork again in his fist as Donna lights up a cigarette and takes a seat.

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing.”

“I missed something.”

“Uh, Stevie, Stevie's about to say grace, Ma.”

“Ooh, good, yes.”

“Go ahead and take it away there, Stevie.”

“I uh… I don't think…”

“Just say the fucking thing, Stevie.”

The tension eases up for those couple of minutes while Steve improvises grace. It all seems perfect for a moment, they all nod and smile a Steve’s kind words, but that countdown is still ticking down every last fucking second.

Everything afterward is a tableau of surreal events tangled together that would play in Maya’s head for years to come… Donna’s meltdown, Michael throwing the last fork, flipping the table and taking a more physical approach against uncle Lee, Donna losing her hinges and crashing the car into the house, the police attending the disturbance…

Out of all the memorable dinners she's had in this house, this one really takes the cake.

It's the shitshow of a lifetime that nobody will ever forget.

Chapter 10: Basket of biscuits

It’s past the witching hour when all the voices, all the noise, all the sirens, and rumblings of his own thoughts quiet down in his head when he closes the door as he settles on the driver's seat. And at once, the only voice he wanted to hear the most echoes in his head with one simple word — his name. The fear in her tone haunts him. He probably scared the shit out of her after what went down. Staring at the ruins of the front of his childhood home, Michael turns on the engine and takes a final look before steering Maya’s car out of that place.

Maya left earlier, after the police took everyone’s statement. Though she wasn’t as drunk as he was, he begged her to take a cab back home. While Donna refused to leave the house, everyone eventually left as well. Michael stayed all the way through while they boarded up the hole in the wall as a temporary measure.

Sobering down, the road gets clearer the closer he gets to Maya. He can't stand the thought of her being witness to his frantic meltdown. All he can see now, clear as day, the utter disbelief and fright in her eyes when she was pleading him to stop. He should have listened. He should have held himself better in that situation. Drugs or not, there's nothing or no one to blame but himself. That was… Embarrassing. Even for him. He swore he'd never sink that low, that he'd never let anyone see that part of him. It was bound to happen. He lost control and everyone saw. And if he wasn't for Donna interrupting his act, he's not sure how far he'd have gone.

For a split moment, he blames it on something else taking over his actions, like being possessed by one of his demons. But it doesn't last long. He can’t continue denying the fact that he’s the only one responsible for his actions. Claiming otherwise would only delay the inevitable.

They say all roads lead to Rome, and if keeps driving in the same direction, he’d surely find the only possible outcome to this. It’s time to veer off the path and find that there’s more world to see besides Rome.

He has to find a new way, and she is the only thing that could save him from this right now. However, after tonight, it wouldn't surprise him if she was already thinking about kicking him to the curve. He would blame her.

Christmas lights and empty streets quickly take him to her house. He can even imagine what’s going through her head right now… but it’s time to find out.

He parks on the driveway and takes measured steps toward the front door as the weight of the world perches on his shoulders. He feels like shit and the biggest asshole in the world for breaking his promise.

The glow of the TV and tree lights shine faintly behind the curtains when he knocks on the door. He should have called before, he realizes on that spot. Or even just text her to say he was coming so she would know what to expect. But there’s not going back now.

She takes her time to open the door and when she does, he’s met with the reflection of all his fears coming true. It flashes across her face the disappointment and disgust and utter terror of what happened at the table.

“I brought your car.” He reaches out to hand her the keys.

Hesitantly, she collects them, and makes room for him to enter before closing the door behind him.

“I… You shouldn't be driving.”

“It's fine. Sobered out pretty soon after… Where's Coco?”

“Upstairs. Hoarding the bed.” Maya puts the keys on the console table as they stand by the staircase railing. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, Carm and Sug stayed with her at the house for the night. Everyone else left. ”

“She wouldn't leave?”

“No, she locked herself in her room.”

“That's crazy.”

“Yeah, another Christmas at The Berzattos. Hey, but at least none of us got locked up.”

“That's not funny, Michael.”

“It wasn't meant to be funny.”

“I think you should go… You should've stayed with them.”

“I wanted to check on you.”

“I'm fine.” Her tone says otherwise.

“Are you?”

“I was about to go to sleep.” She’s already slipped into her pj’s and was just watching TV cause she couldn’t fall asleep.

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“What do you want me to say? Of course, I'm not okay. You lied to me.”

“What… When did I lie to you?”

She fights the urge of rolling her eyes and instead, crosses her arms against her midsection to keep herself together.

“You said you weren't using when you were with me, but tonight you did. Instead of coming to me and saying — hey I'm dealing with this and that, you straight up hid it, and then you just… went off. I thought we were being honest with each other.”

He hangs his head down as she tiredly leans her back against the wall.

“I don't know how to help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on, Michael.”

“There's nothing you could've done.”

“Maybe not but you didn't even give me the chance to. I'm really concerned about you and after tonight… I don't know… I'm out of my depth here. I knew it was bad, but it's worse than I thought… If you're not seeing that, if you're not willing to admit that… Then maybe we should take a step back and consider our options before going further.”

“Consider our options? You're getting cold feet now?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just…” she sighs in exhaustion. “You should go. It's been a long night. And I'm not in the mood for this.”

“If you're gonna break up with me, just say it. Don't wait till tomorrow.” Though it’d be the right decision for her to do, he can’t stand the thought of not being with her now that he’s seen what it is to have her in her life. It would rip his soul and heart apart to hear her say those words.

“I don't wanna break up with you, but I can see that you're going through something right now, and I think it’d be best to talk about this tomorrow or the day after with clear heads.”

“Okay, okay…” he says under a heavy breath, as he shortens the distance between them.

Michael cups her jaw, and places his lips gently on her forehead.

“Can I stay here tonight?” He tries to not sound desperate but it fails so badly.

“Michael…” He grabs his wrist and takes a step back to detach herself from his hold.

“Please, Maybird, I don't wanna go. I… I can’t be alone right now. I’d… I don’t know what I’d do…” There’s something brewing inside him and if tonight wasn’t bad enough, not being able to be with her would send him down to that hole of despair he’s dug himself.

“You're scaring me, Michael.”

“Fuck, I know… I know I’m an asshole. I just…” He frantically runs a palm over his beard as he keeps pleading. “I need you. Don’t make me leave. I'm begging you.”

Those words put her between the sword and the wall. As much as he loves him, as much as she’d want him to stay, she’s still shaken and would rather be alone right now. But she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to him because she sent him away.

Before she has the chance to reply, while she gathers her thoughts he dramatically drops to his knees on the verge of tears.

“Please. I’d do anything for you, but don’t ask me to go.”

“Michael…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he grabs her waist, pulls her close, and links his arms around her hips, planting his full face on her abdomen. He swallows his sobs in his relentless ramble. “Please, baby, I need you… I’m sorry I lied to you… I’m so sorry that I'm scaring you… I swear I’d never hurt you…”

Her eyes brim with tears and unable to pull away she just holds his head protectively in her hands, threading her fingers in her hair to calm him down.

“You’re everything to me, Maybird. I know I’m a pathetic loser and that I don’t deserve you, but I’m fucking ready… just tell me what to do… I don’t know how to fix this… please just… let me stay…”

“Shh, it’s okay, Bear.” She’s so overcome by the love she has for him, she doesn’t have the strength to kick him out. So, she just gives up to his implore. “We’ll figure it out.”

Michael’s breaking point came like the most unexpected Christmas gift he didn't ask for. He can't return it or exchange it for something else. It's only up to him to either throw it away and pretend it didn't happen or use that as the catalyst to his recovery. They say that sometimes you have to break down to break through. And he went down so many levels, that there’s only one option but to go up from there. No because he feels like he has to, but he'd do anything to stay with Maya, and he knows the only way to do it is to climb out of the dirt.

After falling asleep in Maya’s arms, he wakes up in her bed alone the next morning. The clock says it is 10am when he looks up to her night stand and from the feet of the bed is only Coco, keeping a close watch of him. Her tail starts wagging when he gazes at her and extends his hand to scratch her head.

“Hey, Coco girl.” His voice rasps as she climbs up closer to lick his face relentlessly, slobbering all over his beard. “Okay, okay, that's enough, sweetheart.”

He holds her close and scratches her neck to calm her down, as Maya’s measured footfalls make the stairs creak when she climbs up. He looks to the door and watches her as she enters the room. She's fully dressed and by the amount of layers she's clad in, it looks like she's been outside.

“Morning.” She smiles softly as she proceeds to take off her hat and scarf.

“Morning.” He props himself on his elbow while Coco jumps suddenly out of the bed and circles around Maya’s legs before leaving the room at once. “Went out?”

“Yeah, just went for a drive and grabbed some breakfast. You two looked so cozy together, I thought I should let you sleep a bit longer. You're not opening today, right?”

“No. C’mere, sweetheart.” He finds her hand and gently tugs on it so she would sit down next to him. “I'm sorry about last night, I shouldn't have come here like that. I thought I was…”

“Sh, it's okay. You already apologized, hon.”

“No. That wasn't me. That was fucking embarrassing.”

“Is this you now?” She tenderly moves his straightened hair away from his forehead and combs it softly.

“Think so.”

“You look better.” Her fingers keep gently peppering him with caresses all over his head and neck.

“I feel like shit.” He gets a hold of her hand and kisses her knuckles. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“No. I can’t really stay mad at you for long. You know that. And the good thing about all this is that since last night, I haven't really thought about being ditched for Christmas by my family.”

“Fuck, I'm such an asshole… I had all these plans with you after dinner… and I totally ruined everything. We didn't even get to open our presents.”

“It's okay. I promise. We'll try again next year. Maybe just the two of us.”

“You still think we'll be together next year?”

“I have no idea. But I'm hoping so… I want to.”

“God, you’re a fucking angel.”

“I’m not,” she laughs softly.

“Yeah, heaven-sent. You took care of me last night when you had your own thing going on. Not many people would’ve done that.”

Maya leans in and kisses his temple before wrapping her arms around his neck. She bathes him with love cause she’s not sure what else to do than to show him that she needs him just as much.

“How about we get some food in you?” She smooches his head and as she attempts to stand up, he curls his arms around her, pulling her down with him.

“Not yet, baby. Let's stay here for a minute. I'm not hungry.”

She relaxes in his hold and cuddles with him until his phone goes off.

“It's Sugar.” Maya sees on the screen. “Are you gonna pick it up?”

He vacillates, but he ends up taking the call while Maya dislodges herself from his embrace. She collects a tray and some food from the kitchen while Natalie tells Michael that they finally got their mother out of the house. She'll be at Nat's for a few days until they fix the front of the house.

“Yeah… I'll take care of it. See you later.” Maya overhears as she returns to the bedroom with his breakfast.

“Everything alright?” She sits down on the mattress, placing the tray in the middle.

“Yeah. She asked me to go talk to uncle Jimmy's friend. You know, the contractor? He said he could get it done fast.”

“That's good, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What's wrong?”

“I don't know… I just… how can I look at these people in the face after what I did.”

“Because you're Michael fucking Berzatto. And you don't take shit from no one.” She tries cheering him up. “Uncle Lee was an asshole. Nobody cares that you threw a couple of forks at him. They're worried about you. And I don't think anyone remembers what you did. Donna upstaged the two of you, I'm afraid.”

“How do you manage to put a positive spin on everything?”

“Someone has to.”

As much as he loves hearing her talk like that is time for a reality check. Besides Maya being the brightest light in his life from the past few months, the rest have been hell. The restaurant has been struggling for way longer than he’d like to admit and has become the biggest failure of his life. His dependency has only been exacerbated by the pressure he’s put on himself to try to fix all by himself. All the lies, the high expectations, and the way his family look up to him for answers and comfort have become a lead weight on him.

The Beef was an inherited mess that was passed down to him when his father died. He took it upon himself to carry the family business to keep the family afloat, especially since Carmen and Natalie were merely teens, and there was nobody else but him to provide for all of them. He always thought he’d had his own restaurant and part of that pipe dream was bringing Carmy along. That dream faded as soon as he got hit with the hard cold truth that managing a restaurant, even a sandwich shop wasn’t as easy as his father made it look. But to be fair the late Berzatto didn’t have the best system either. It was all back door deals and handshakes and fucking agreements with this guy and this other guy. It made him wonder if the old trio had some shady business going on. Even Maya’s uncle was involved at some point, he recalls seeing his name a couple of times in one of the accounting books.

To sum it all up, he was set up with a business that was already failing before got it. His optimism and passion could only keep him trying for so long. The last couple of years have been hell, and at this point he’s not sure if he wants to run it anymore. He’s toyed with the idea of burning it to the ground and starting over, or just selling it and walking away. But there are a lot of factors in play that are stopping him from doing that. Like disappointing his family or the people who work for him. And let's not forget the big question of what Michael would do if he didn’t have The Beef.

With a heavy heart he finally pours everything out to Maya. If someone can understand, it’s her. She knew when her life needed a turn and took it. He’s at the same crossroads right now, but unlike her, he doesn’t feel brave enough to do what needs to be done.

Maya draws a breath, absorbing every single thing Michael has laid out. It’s a lot to process, but her mind is already spinning ideas and questions that could potentially help him.

“You could sell and start over. The Beef is not your failure. It wasn’t even your dream to begin with. And I don’t think anyone will hold it against you if you give it away.”

“I guess I’m not ready to give up, you know? I don’t know what I’d do if I walked away now.” He shifts in the bed, laying on his side, placing his head on her lap while she plays with his hair.

“What about the restaurant you wanted to open with Carmy? It was all you talked about once upon a time. ”

“I can't bring him into this. He's better off without me.”

“He's not. Your brother is fucking miserable.”

“How do you know that? Did he tell you that?”

“No… but we shared some words last night, I don't want to get into the whole thing right now, but I could tell that he's not happy either.”

“Last night… He gave me this thing. It was a sketch he did about that restaurant… I just don't know how to make you both understand that I have no idea how to make it true. He's worked so hard to be where he is now…. I won’t be the one to keep it away from all that.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe you could learn something from him and that teaming up would solve all your problems?”

“Yeah, maybe. But I don’t want to take that chance. I won’t ruin his career. He’s where he’s supposed to be.”

“You know, you’ve talked a lot about not wanting to let everyone down and keeping everyone happy. But when are you gonna start taking care of yourself, Bear? All those people you’re caring for, they’re pretty much grown up. They don’t need you to keep holding their hand. Not Natalie, nor Carmy, nor your mother. And don’t get me wrong, the way you care for them is part of the reason I care for you… but at some point you’re going to have to care for yourself too. Cause I can’t keep an eye on you 24/7.”

“Did you go to shrink school or something?” He scoffs, glancing up at her eyes from his comfortable spot.

“No, I wish! It’s hard to put yourself above anyone else… I get it. But you’re going to have to, Michael. If you don’t, it’ll eventually catch up with you. The pressure, the pills, the need to please everyone…”

“What if it’s too late?”

“It’s not. I promise it’s not. I know it seems that way, but you, asking the right questions… That tells me it’s not too late. And the thing is that you don't have to decide anything right now. But hypothetically speaking, if you didn't have The Beef to take care of, and could do anything in the world, what would you do?”

“Well, If I could do anything, I'd stay in this bed, day, and night with you for a year.”

“Okay, let's say you've done that now. You wake up, get out of bed and where do you go?”

“I've always….” he pauses as the corner of his mouth pulls up.

“What? Tell me.” Her hand fists his hair without pulling.

“I've always wanted to buy a bike and drive across every state.”

“I could see you doing that.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Stop doing that. It's not an unattainable dream, Bear. You can do whatever you want.”

“Would you come with me if I asked you?”

“Hm, I don’t know… I’m not a huge fan of bikes. But I guess if I could follow along with my car and bring Coco with us, I’d go.”

“How about next summer?”

“Bring it on.”

“You know I’m joking, right?” He scoffs.

“I’m not. If you really wanna do that. Do it. What’s that thing you always say… Let one rip?”

“Let it rip,” he snorts and shakes his head, utterly amused by her way of messing up his motto.

“So, let it rip!”

“How? How do you walk away from everything?”

“You put one foot in front of the other and repeat.”

“Well, thank you for just describing walking, baby.”

“I’m serious, Michael. You take enough small steps and one day you’ll look back and won’t be able to see what you left behind.”

She holds his face firmly and dips to leave a small peck on his lips, then plants her forehead on top of his.

“I’d go anywhere with you. Would you?”

“Yeah, always.”

Michael’s palm slides along her jaw as his lips capture her mouth one more time. In this room, on this bed, he feels more safe and loved than ever before.

In the evening, Maya takes Michael to meet the contractor who comes into the house to survey the damage. After that, they swing by Natalie’s to check how Donna is doing.

Maya stays in the car. Her choice. She’s not ready to have another Berzatto reunion so soon.

She’s listening to the radio when all of a sudden a tap on the glass startles her. She glances to the side and finds Carmy motioning with his hand to roll down the window.

Sighting, she turns off the radio, as the glass slides down.

“Hey, can we talk?” His breath manifests in the air.

“I'm not in the mood for you to keep jabbing at me.”

“I wasn’t going to… I just…” he props his forearm on the roof of the car. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. You were right about… well, about almost everything. I have no right to tell you how to live your life and shouldn’t have talked to you that way. I still think it’s pretty weird that you’re dating my brother… but I guess I’ll have to get over it.”

Maya swallows, staring at her hands curling around the steering wheel. It feels forced to hear him say that so soon, but not completely dishonest. He’s making an effort, and she appreciates that.

“Thank you for saying that. I’m sorry that you had to find that way and that I called you a self-serving asshole that doesn’t care about anyone but himself. I know you cared about me… I just…”

“Hey, I get it. We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I don’t know… I couldn’t sleep last night and Sugar and I started talking, we were up for hours… I guess she knocked some sense into me.”

“Do you think we could ever be friends again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could we pretend that we are just for five minutes? I need to ask you something.”

“I… I suppose we could. Can I get in? It's freezing out here.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Carmy goes around the car and hops into the passenger seat as Maya closes the window.

“What is it?”

“How's Copenhagen? Are you liking it there? Is it everything you ever dreamed of?”

“It's one of the best jobs I've ever had.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“I… I don't know what you want me to say… I guess I always thought I'd end up here with Michael… But I don't think he even wants me here anymore. Why are you asking me this?”

“God, he's going to kill me for telling you this… But hypothetically, what if he was in trouble and was too prideful to ask for help? What if he wanted to build that restaurant you dreamed of but wouldn't want you to give up your career for him? What if he was thinking of selling the shop but was too afraid of disappointing all of you?”

“Fuck, that's a lot of what ifs, Maya. Is that all true?”

“I can't tell you that, but if that were all true would you consider coming back?”

“You know better than anybody that all I wanted to do is work with him. If he asked, I'd be here in a second. But he's not going to ask, is he?”

“I don't think he's ready yet. I'm trying to help him as best as I can, but I feel like I'm not enough.”

“What do you think I could do if he doesn't want anyone's help… ”

“I don't know… he's too stubborn to ask for help. I'm just running out of ideas here… and he's looking at me like I have all the answers…”

“You think if I came back that'll change?”

“Maybe not, but if there's just a small chance that you were considering doing what you always wanted to do… if he saw that you weren't going anywhere, perhaps it’d point him in the right direction.”

“It takes guts to ask for help like that. And I'm not talking about him. I know you wouldn't be asking if it wasn't serious.”

“Yeah, like I said, if he knew I was telling you this…”

“I won't tell, if you don't.” He smiles softly.

“Thank you.”

“I'll think about it though.”

“Yeah? I'll keep trying too.”

As Carmy leaves the car, Michael comes out of the front door. They meet in the middle and Maya watches them quickly sharing some words before saying goodbye.

“Everything good here?” Asks Michael once he's taken his seat and closes the door.

“Yeah, we were just straightening some things up. I didn't want to tell you earlier, but we had an argument last night. It's all good now…” and she feels like an asshole for going behind his back, but if Michael is too proud or ashamed to ask for help, someone has to. She'd love to have all the answers laid out for him, but she has no idea what she's doing half of the time.

“He knows about us, does he?”

“Yeah, we weren't as careful as we wanted. Even Sugar saw. I mean… you even called me baby at the table. Don’t think anyone really noticed but… I guess it’s out now.”

“Does it freak you out that they know?”

“No. It was never about that. I just wanted to keep it just between us for a little longer.”

As they drive back home they toy with the idea of recreating the Christmas dinner they never go to have the previous night. They make a quick stop at a couple of places to gather some ingredients and scramble something together.

Michael has a lot of faults, but he's a natural in the kitchen. He feels right in his element when he's crafting a meal, especially when it’s for her. There’s no pressure laying on the counter, no bills to worry about, but the need to impress her makes him rise to the occasion.

After dinner, they exchange those gifts they put under the tree in her living room a couple of days ago. There’s a gift basket for Coco with toys, her favorite snacks, a blanket, and bathing products. While the dog is distracted with a chew on the rug, they sit on the couch to open theirs.

Maya’s gift to Michael is considerably bigger than what he got for her, which is a thin flat box as long as her palm.

“You want me to go first?” Asks Maya.

“Yeah, sure. Go on, baby.”

She’s kneeled by his side on the cushion, and he closely watches her hand unwrap the jewelry box that contains a dainty gold necklace with two twin pendants. Two small discs share an M etched on one side but are different on the back. One of them has the outline of a bear, and the other a dog paw.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, Mikey Bear.” Her free palm slides at his nape. “Thank you.”

“Thought you could wear this one,” he points at the one with the bear, “and I could take the other.”

“Yeah, that’d be perfect.” She inspects the pendants for a bit longer before sliding the one with the paw on it out the chain. “We’re kind of an institution now, like M&Ms.”

“Or Eminem.”

“For sure,” she laughs at the same time she clasps the chain around her neck. “Are you gonna open yours?”

Michael nods and extends his hand to open the big wrapped box waiting on the coffee table. In it there's a record player set with speakers and a couple of Otis Redding albums.

“You’re the best, you know that?” He holds his chin on top of his fist for a second, mesmerized by how much he adores her.

“Hm, I’ve been told.” She smugly slings her arm around his lower back as he inspects his new gift and starts setting all the components on. “Wasn’t sure if you liked Otis, but it’s one of my favorites.”

“Yeah, I dig it. Everyone loves the king of soul.”

Tucking her palm under the hem of his shirt, she kisses his shoulder, as he carefully slides one of the vinyls out of its sleeve before placing it on the platter.

“I haven’t used one of these in a while, let’s see if I remember…” he thinks for a beat, staring at the levels and buttons as he figures out how to set it up.

“You know, there are instructions on the box, right?” She playfully scratches his back.

“Don’t need instructions.”

“Typical male response,” she scoffs.

“Look, it’s done.” After settling the needle in position he hits the on button and stares at the record as it starts spinning. It rotates a couple of times before the first track comes out of the speakers.

Michael curls his arm around her, pulling her flush against his chest as they lean back on the couch. Maya drapes her legs on his lap, pillowing her head on his shoulder as the ever so beautiful melody of These Arms Of Mine plays on the speakers.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Maya tucks her hand in her jean's pocket to collect a keychain of a miniature motorcycle she got at the gas station earlier. “I also got you this when we stopped for gas. I didn't have time to get you a real bike in time but– what do you say, you wanna go on a road trip with me and Coco?”

“A Harley-Davidson? I don't think the three of us can fit here.” He dangles the keychain between his fingers. “But we'll see.”

Maya smiles against his shoulder as he kisses her head.

“Hey, can I tell you a secret?” His voice changes to a softer tone.

“Uh-huh.”

He knows this is far from perfect and that he's probably going to screw everything up at some point, but whether it's perfect or not, right here, in her arms, everything is like it's supposed to be.

“I love you, Maybird.”

She tilts her chin up so he can capture the glint of eyes. She doesn't say it right away, it takes her a couple of beats to build up the courage to say back…

“I love you too, Bear.”

The End.

#jon bernthal #michael berzatto #michael berzatto x ofc #michael berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal fanfiction #carmy berzatto #natalie berzatto #richie jerimovich #fanfiction #angst #smut #fluff #darlingwrites #salt of the earth

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 2 months

Text

Spring | JJK

Hello darlings!!!

Pairing: royal guard!Jungkook x princess!Reader, prince!Jimin x princess!Reader (ft. Yoongi & Hoseok)

Summary: In which you, princess of the Gyeongdong Dynasty, were in the middle of wedding plans. An arranged marriage that would guarantee your father's bloodline to stay on the throne.

Or in which you are assigned a new royal guard that swore to protect you with his life. Jeon Jungkook. That's his name. A name you could never forget. A name that, slowly but surely got engraved not only in your memories but also in your heart.

Love, politics, betrayal and desire. All in ancient history. A love that never should have happened, two souls that wouldn't be allowed to be together.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of past life, reincarnation! AU, implied soulmate! AU, flashbacks, ft. Yoongi and Hoseok, modern! AU, lost love, yearning, strangers to lovers???, all the feels, crying, there's a kiss, sweet and soft koo, hurt/comfort, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 10.4 k

A/N: Hello, darlings! Welcome the the finale of "Four Seasons"! I know you guys have waited a looong time for this part to come out but it is finally here so let's see how Jungkook and our Princess will end their love story!

This whole story was highly inspired by "Moon Lovers" and the ending it should have had, (in my humble opinion). I included different scenes of other movies/shows/dramas that I liked with the hope you will like it as well.

Also thank you guys so much for 200 followers! Take this as my thank you gift, darlings!

Thank you so much for all the love this series got and thank you for sticking up with me to see the end of this journey and hopefully the beginning of many more! Please let me know your thoughts in the comments, darlings! Happy reading, everyone!

💜 Boraghae ARMY 💜

~Taglist for Four Season: @valhallawhispers @lovingkoalaface @seokout @ackercute @jksusawife

~Tagging people who were waiting for the finale (I apologise if you didn't want to be tagged) @jjanjankook @junghoseok07 @vminkookgf @allie-is-a-panda

We have lived through centuries, carrying many lives, carrying many deaths. Carrying a world only remembered by our pure soul.

Jungkook opened his eyes, it was still dark outside. He sighed, reaching over his nightstand and picking up his phone. His eyes burned with the sudden light coming from the small device as he turned off his morning alarm.

The phone rested on his chest as he hesitated whether to get up and go to work or probably call sick today once more. Yet a sudden weight getting on the bed made him sigh once more. His other hand blindly searched for his large and sweet dog to pet him lazily while remembering Bam was running out of food and he needed to buy another bag, that meant he had to go to work once more.

With a soft groan, he sat on the bed, searching for his slippers before he stood up and walked out of the bedroom with Bam hot on his heels.

The sun was barely out yet the sky was already painted in beautiful hues of blue and orange. Decorated with the soft looking clouds that seemed to have been delicate brushes over a painting in the museum Jungkook worked at.

Loneliness encapsulated Jungkook's heart as he gazed at the beautiful sky, he almost felt as if there was something missing in his life or rather, someone. He felt empty, divided and there was nothing that could fill that void in his soul.

He tried getting into cooking, but the soft ache was always there. Working out was the solution for some time but as soon as he was back home, that melancholy drowned his soul once more. It made him ache, dream and yearn for something he didn't even know what it was but he felt like he needed it to survive.

Spring had arrived a couple of weeks ago, the trees were blooming with beautiful pink flowers and the petals fell on the ground softly, creating an enchanting path to walk by. The parks were full of greenery and the birds began to sing after the crude winter. Warmer days were to come.

Jungkook found himself walking through the same streets like every morning to get to his full-time job. He walked monotonously, his earpods on only to stop people from talking to him, not that it had happened many times but there was something about today that he didn't wish to interact with people. The least he did it, the better.

No music filled his ears, the walk was monotonous; monochrome even. Without an ounce of colour in his life even when spring was flourishing around him.

However, the sudden smell of fresh roses invaded his senses and he was pulled back from his mind and looked around the crowd that walked alongside him but were unaware of his mundane existence.

Many people surrounded him. Many people continued their paths while he stood rooted to the ground. The scent so soft and calming it made his heart skip a beat without thinking about it. But the feeling was lost before he could fully grasp it. Something clawed at his heart to search for such a unique scent, to go after the person who owned it but the idea dissipated from his mind like fog in a spring morning as someone bumped his shoulder softly and Jungkook was forced to continue moving with the crowd who carried him away of his very first taste of spring.

You stared out of the window of your car, your chin rested over your knuckles as you lost yourself in your thoughts. You noticed the beautiful cherry blossoms have already bloomed, spring has arrived sooner than you thought. But despite the mesmerising view outside of your car, you felt nothing about the pink petals that signalled a new season has started.

Almost as if your heart was frozen. Many called you that. Ice Queen. For people have rarely ever seen you smile. As if it was physically harmful for you to do so. The public always had its eye on you given that you were the only and beautiful daughter of a very important politician, your life was surely of entertainment to the media.

"Did you check the files I sent you yesterday?"

Hoseok, your best friend and personal assistant, spoke next to you. His voice brought you back from your thoughts. You turned to look at him with that emotionless expression he had already gotten used to as you spoke with a dry voice.

"Of course. If I'm going to buy something, I inform myself well, Hoseok. You already know the drill."

He sighed, opening his phone as he checked a new message from your father.

"Is there anything that caught your eye?"

You took a deep breath, your fingers playing with the bracelet you never took off as you spoke with that same bored tone he honestly hated in you. Not because Hoseok had come to terms with it meant he liked it. He had once heard your beautiful laughter. Your precious smile was enough to illuminate a whole room. But that had been long ago. Many years had passed since those golden days. Days when you didn't have responsibilities, when there were no explicit expectations. Days when you both were only children.

"I want to see the paintings. The Gyeongdong Dynasty is known for their magnificent art but I won't be convinced until I see such art pieces with my own eyes."

Hoseok sighed yet again. If he got a dollar for every time he sighed these days he'd already be rich.

"Stubborn as ever."

He muttered under his breath and you turned around to look out of the window, hiding the minuscule smirk that threatened to break over your cherry red lips.

The car stopped in front of the Leeum Museum. You looked at the building, hearing how Hoseok stepped out of the car, just as your driver. Your best friend walked around the car and opened the door for you. With graceful movements you stepped out as well and stood tall on your ground as Hoseok closed the door behind you.

"I'll call you when we’ll be getting back."

Hoseok spoke to the driver, the older man bowed down at you both before he got in the car again and drove off. You stood in front of the museum, admiring the beautiful architecture. Soft wind made your hair fly slightly as you began walking to the castle of arts with Hoseok trailing behind you.

A sudden melancholy filled your heart with each step you took towards the building. As if you had been missing something and were only about to find it. It clawed at your heart and you shuddered at the feeling. Suppressing it as the double doors opened for you and you entered the elegant and modern museum, wanting to stay and leave at the same time.

"Today Miss Lee will be visiting us for her purchase, Jungkook."

Yoongi spoke as he leaned back on his office chair while twirling a pen between his fingers. Jungkook nodded, hands clasped in front of him as he listened attentively.

"She is an extremely special client, one of our main buyers. I am trusting you to tend to her every need. Don't mess with her. Let her roam around and when she decides what artefact she'd want to buy, bring her here. I'll sign the paperwork."

Jungkook looked at his boss and friend with curiosity in his big doe eyes.

"Is there anything specific I should know about her?"

Yoongi sighed deeply, twirling his chair a bit to the right as he looked outside the beautiful gardens of the elegant museum.

"You really don't follow the media, do you? Miss Lee (y/n) is known to have a very difficult temper. She has never been seen smiling and her attitude is as cold as ice, according to netizens. Don't follow her too closely, don't even look her in the eyes. We can't lose such an important purchaser as her."

"I understand."

Jungkook reassured with firmness in his voice, feeling something oddly familiar at the mention of the stoic woman's name. Something within himself he wasn't quick enough to grasp.

"You may go, she is expected to arrive any minute now."

The younger man nodded, bowing softly before he left the classy and minimalist office. Jungkook descended the marble staircase that led to the offices above only to come face to face with Jung Hoseok himself.

"Mr. Jung."

He acknowledged. Hoseok turned to look at Jungkook before a warm smile appeared on his delicate and beautiful features.

"Ah, you must be Jeon Jungkook, right?"

The latter nodded, extending his right hand forward. Hoseok shook his hand firmly before the both men began walking back to the gallery.

"I apologise. I wasn't notified when Miss Lee arrived. I'd like to introduce myself to her."

Jungkook spoke with professionalism in his deep voice. Silently earning Hoseok's silent approval about the younger man.

"Of course. I left her in the ancient relics hall. Let's go there, shall we?"

You had ventured on your own when Hoseok left you to search for the man who was going to accompany you and assess you in your purchase. You didn't pay him much thought as he disappeared around the corner, leaving you alone in the large and beautiful house of arts.

Your feet carried you through the halls, your heels clicking in the marble floors and echoing among the walls that told centuries of history.

The exhibition of the Gyeongdong Dynasty was one the public have been waiting for a long time now. Curious as ever as to what item were you to purchase as preservation of cultural treasure as per your father's own political project.

There was something terribly familiar about the artefacts you saw kept in glass boxes. Historical treasures were kept intact, there was jewellery from noble families and even the royal families of the dynasty that were managed to be restored.

Paintings, clothes, old parchments, vases and even toys were all around the place. You walked over to the hallway where the artefacts of the royal families were kept. Ignoring the heaviness in your steps, the sourness in your heart, the odd feelings that clawed at your heart.

A big glass wall allowed you to witness the mesmerising view of the gardens, cherry blossoms in all their resplandor bloomed at the very background, pink petals decorated the outer grounds and a small fountain was at the centre of the small yet lovely garden that you felt a sudden urge to go to.

You watched it in silence. The soft and pink petals falling behind you with delicate motions. Spring had arrived. But your heart was frozen. Cold as it missed something you yearned for yet didn't know what it was or how to find it. An empty feeling that had lived within you for as long as you can remember.

With a sigh, you forced yourself to avert your eyes from the garden and focus back on the artefacts around the big room. You watched replicas of the dynasty's royal robes. A dress colour orange picked your attention the most, perhaps for its intriguing details or beautiful tailoring. Maybe because of the extravagant colour but you found yourself staring at it for quite some time. A heaviness weighing your heart down as you forced yourself to move forward from the dress you knew once belonged to a princess.

You passed the row of robes and dresses in glass cages, focusing on the paintings hanging on the walls with their respective description below.

First family of the Gyeongdong Dynasty.

Second family of the Gyeongdong Dynasty.

Third family of the Gyeongdong Dynasty.

And so on. It was mostly a man and a woman in the painting, some had children others did not. And you guessed they were the kings and queens of the long lost dynasty that brought the land to prosperity before the Goryeo dynasty started.

You stopped in front of a painting of a man and a woman, both quite beautiful in the art piece. The woman in the painting was holding a baby in her arms and you couldn't help but tilt your head slightly at the strange familiarity you felt towards the beautiful portrait.

There were no names of the people in the painting, the Gyeongdong Dynasty had suffered quite the loss of information when the palace caught fire during the last family of the bloodline. However, you couldn't stop staring at the woman in the portrait. You didn't know why, but it almost felt as if you were watching yourself in a mirror.

You felt as if you resembled her, as if your soul recognised her even when you hadn't seen such a portrait before. The man however made you nostalgic over their sad story.

According to the description of the painting, the man and the woman were married and had a son but she had died of a heart disease. He never remarried and historians said the queen was deeply loved by her husband.

The more you looked at the painting, the heavier your heart felt. It was a family portrait. A family portrait that told a sad story. It made your heart clench in your chest and you took a step back, as if the painting was cursed by the heavens and you had to walk away from it.

Perhaps you needed to stop taking that herbal tea Hoseok always pestered you to drink on an empty stomach.

You felt your stomach sink when you saw the next painting. You recognised the man from the last portrait. The young king. His queen was by his side in the large throne hall and all the officers stood in front of the throne in line. You saw a man, standing next to the queen that wore dark robes and had rough and large hands clasped in front of him.

It felt as if you were dreaming. Watching a movie or remembering something you had forgotten as images flooded in your mind and you found yourself drowning in the violent waters that was the mind.

---

A soft smile was plastered over your features while still facing him. However, he ignored what you said and commented, his voice a bit more distant than before.

"You will trip if you walk like that."

It was a statement rather than a possibility and that had you frowning up at him. If he was going to be like this then your little trips to the city and nearby villages were going to be a bit dull, at least until you got to your desired destination.

"I won't! I don't lik-"

But your sentence got cut off when, just as he predicted, you tripped with a small rock. You gasped when you felt your body being pulled down to the ground by gravity, the heavy skirts of your dress not allowing you to gain back your footing.

It was only when you felt a firm hand grasping yours and a pull over your body when you were back on your feet.

"I told you you would trip over."

Officer Jeon said, his voice cold and distant but you were able to catch a tinge of humour behind his words. A soft blush painted your cheeks when you realised he was still holding your hand in his surprisingly warm one.

Out of a sudden you felt shy, retrieving your hand from his grasp and taking a couple of steps away from him as you hadn't noticed just how close the two of you were a mere second ago.

"That... that was- it wouldn't... aish. I don't like for people to walk behind me, I feel like I'm being followed. Just... just do me the favour, could you? Just walk next to me, I promise you won't get in trouble."

He sighed, looking around before agreeing with a silent nod.

"And, thanks by the way. For not letting me fall down."

He bowed slightly, the both of you continuing your path down to the city.

"I was just doing my work, Princess."

You had to bite down on your lip to keep the smile from shining all over your face. He indeed took that vow to heart. You thought. Looking up at him, you noticed just how handsome your personal guard was and a warm sensation spread all over your body.

"So... tell me. What's your name? How would you like me to call you?"

Your question made him look down at you for a split second but you continued to watch him with curiosity. If he was going to always be with you, at least you could be friends?

"I am the First Officer of the Royal Guards, Jeon Jungkook. You can call me as you please, My Lady."

Jeon Jungkook.

---

"Thank you for coming with me to the city."

He bowed down at you, not saying a word. When he straightened back up he was met with the sight of you holding a small bag towards him.

"You can have them, you looked like you wanted some of them. I won't be able to finish them all anyway."

Jungkook took the bag from your hand hesitantly, his fingers brushing yours for a split second before the contact was broken.

"I appreciate your generosity, Princess. Rest well."

You smiled a little wider at him, your hands clasping in front of you.

"You rest as well, Jungkook."

With that being said you entered your room, sliding the door shut. Only when Jungkook saw that you had closed the door did he begin walking back to his own room.

---

"You have good skills but your posture can be improved."

At Jungkook's words you lifted your gaze, meeting his dark brown eyes with your own once more. He gestured towards your bow with his chin and asked, his voice gentle like a summer breeze.

"May I?"

You nodded, handing him your bow. The warmth of his fingers brushed yours and you had to bite back a smile. He crouched down and picked up the arrow that had fallen from your grasp a moment ago.

Jungkook positioned himself and you watched his every move.

"You are too tense while holding the bow, if your hold is firm but at the same time gentle it will give you stability."

You listened carefully to his explanations as your eyes were glued to him and for the first time since he became your personal guard were you able to admire him. Properly admire him.

Your gaze landed on his focused face, on how his eyes were put on the target mark and nothing else. Then, you travelled to his lips and marvelled on the way he was pulling back the arrow until it touched the corner of his lips softly. His jawline was defined as if it had been sculpted by the gods.

His broad shoulders carried years of training and you could see how his muscles could be traced even with more than one layer of clothing. His veiny hands held the bow and the arrow with expertise and you found yourself trapped in a trance in which only Jungkook existed.

He fired the arrow, hitting the target in its centre. You looked amazed at the clean shot he did and he commented, giving you back your bow.

"Would you like to try again, Princess?"

You nodded and took the bow. Jungkook walked where the rest of the arrows were and picked one up. He handed it to you and you took it softly from his grasp. You positioned the arrow and prepared yourself to shoot.

You silently gasped when you felt a large hand over your left one, the one holding the bow and it took you less than a second to realise it was Jungkook who was guiding you. You smelled his scent from behind you and felt the light pressure of his body at your back but it wasn't uncomfortable, on the contrary, you felt safe being this close to him. It was... Soothing, to say the least.

"You need to relax your hand a bit more."

Following his instructions, he smiled.

"Good, now take a deep breath. Straighten up a bit more and concentrate."

You did as you were told, closing your eyes and relishing in the comfort Jungkook provided. The warm feeling of his hand over yours was nearly overwhelming. The moment you opened your eyes again, the only thing you could focus on was the target. Letting go of the arrow, it travelled through the air with a mute noise and landed directly on the mark.

A gasp left your lips and Jungkook let go of your hand just as you turned around and looked up at him. Your smile showed pure happiness, a happiness he was responsible for and for some reason, that settled a spark of proudness in his chest.

---

"I care for you, Princess."

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall freely down your cheeks.

"You can't."

Whispered words reached his ears. Making his heart shake with the need to hold you, promise you that it was going to be alright.

"But I do."

You opened your eyes, looking at Jungkook through blurry vision. His eyes were filled with tears and you felt an ache in your heart at the sight of his tears.

"You weren't supposed to. You were only meant to protect me, Jungkook. That's it, nothing else."

He sighed, his eyes lowering to your trembling hands resting on your lap. He had a sudden urge to hold them. To hold you. To comfort you.

"I know. Love is blind, Princess. No-one gets to choose."

---

Your eyes were locked with his, not daring to break the eye contact that was grounding your thoughts, in a way at least.

"I'm begging you to put yourself in my shoes, it is not correct for me to write to you in such a way. Your fiancé is in the palace and you could get in trouble if someone finds out."

The way he said "you could get in trouble" not "me", not "we". It was you who he was worried about. His heart feared for you and the fact of such care brought tears to your eyes.

"It is not appropriate, Your Highness."

He bowed slightly at you, a lump forming in your throat as realisation hit you. You were losing him. You were losing the only man who could ever own your heart. The man you cared for over everyone else. The man you loved. You were losing your Jungkook but, was he really yours to begin with?

You could never claim yourself as his so no, he wasn't yours. He wasn't yours to love and care, he wasn't yours to be with you out of what was needed to be.

You took a deep breath, holding your head high and swallowing the lump in your throat. You were never going to say you loved him, you weren't going to put yourself in such pain. You didn't want his pity. The misery it'd come afterwards.

"You are right,"

This time, Jungkook flinched at your tone. Your words were void of any emotion, a sound that he used to know was as warm like the summer days felt now cold like winter.

"it is not right for us to write to each other. It will not happen again."

Even though that was what his mind desired for you to say, his heart hurt at your words. As if someone had just stabbed him directly in the heart. Your words had such an impact on him. Not because you were the Crown Princess but because he loved you. He loved you with all his body, soul and mind. He loved you more than love itself. But he knew the cruel reality. Jungkook knew that you both could never be together.

---

"Yes. You?"

He nodded. Not hearing the commotion from before. The intruders had been defeated by the remaining palace guards. He could hear Yoongi talking to the king about investigating the bloodbath that had just occurred in the throne room.

Jungkook looked down at you. The hand that once rested on your shoulder travelled down your arm until his fingers locked with yours, holding your hand and giving it a firm squeeze in reassurance.

But the moment was short-lived. The moment in which you lost yourself in his dark orbs and relished in the feeling of his touch as innocent and reassuring as was to hold your hand.

You saw, in a matter of milliseconds how his eyes shifted from you to something standing behind you. His sword clanked to the floor and his hand left yours, leaving it cold once more. You suddenly found yourself in his arms as he twisted you both. Being him who's back faced the entrance way.

You gasped at the motion. But nothing could have been worse than the pained groan he let out a mere second after he spun you around.

Tears gathered in your eyes when you saw one of the remaining intruders holding a bow, pointing it at you. Your eyes widened when you saw an arrow had pierced him on the back.

"Jungkook!"

He began to slump forward and you did your best to ease his fall. The hand that held the bow you had used to defend yourself clattered to the floor as you knelt on the ground, while Jungkook nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck.

Jimin, who stood next to the entrance way, had seen everything unfold before his eyes. He was quick to run towards the last intruder and kill him with his own sword before he turned back to you and watched how you held Jungkook in your embrace.

"Jungkook! Stay awake, you have to stay awake! Do you hear me? Jungkook!"

---

“I just remembered,”

He stood up, his hands leaving your grasp and you felt them cool down without the warmth of Jungkook’s large hands over your own. Your gaze followed him while he searched in one of his drawers until he pulled something out and walked back to you.

“I made you something for your birthday but with everything that happened, I never got the chance to give it to you.”

You were glad you were sitting, if not, you would have probably fainted with the amount of love you had for this man. Had he really made you something despite the terms you were in before the engagement ceremony? Did he really love you that much?

Of course he did.

When Jungkook loved, he loved with all his heart. And right now, you were the owner of that heart of his. He gave it to you without a second thought and his little actions kept proving it to you over and over again. He grabbed your left wrist and you looked down, watching as he tied a red braided bracelet around your skin. He tightened it with the perfect amount of force, tight enough for it to not fall but not that strong that it would hurt your precious skin.

“Do you like it?”

You couldn’t take your eyes off his gift. It was a beautifully braided bracelet with small pearls in it.

“It’s perfect.”

You whispered. Afraid that if you spoke any louder the moment would be ruined. His heart skipped a beat with your words.

“No-one has ever given me such a beautiful gift. Thank you, Jungkook.”

He scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat and looking away. But you were having none of that so you, once more, grabbed his hand and made him look at you. Your (e/c) eyes met his big doe ones and you said, with tears prickling at the corner of your eyes.

“Thank you, Jungkook. For everything.”

He smiled, a warm smile that made butterflies go wild in your stomach.

“You are very welcome, my princess.”

---

"Aren't you cold?"

That voice he enjoyed so much reached his ears, making him look up at you. He smiled. Shutting the book as his arm rested next to him. Your feet crunched the snow below as you made your way towards him.

"Not really, princess. I kept myself busy."

You smiled. Looking up at him as your hands clasped themselves in front of you.

"Aren't you cold, Your Highness?"

His voiced concern made your heart flutter. You feared he could hear just how fast your heart was beating inside your chest.

"No, I just came from taking a walk with the Crown Prince."

Jungkook kept his gaze on you yet you were aware how something flashed in his eyes at the mention of your future husband. It was there in those dark orbs you loved to get yourself lost into, a second in which he let his emotions take control over him. Where he was vulnerable to your watchful eyes.

But it was gone as you blinked. He gave you no time to question whatever you had seen in his gaze as he asked you next.

"Are you ready for your wedding day?"

The atmosphere turned sombre. As if clouds had hidden the sun of a summer day during tea time. Soft snowflakes began falling from the darkening skies in a soft motion. Delicately even.

"You know I'm not. How could I?"

The smile that once adorned Jungkook's handsome features was now gone. A sad look covered his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that."

You took a deep breath. The little bubble of happiness and freedom he provided was now popped and you were brought to the harsh reality. You didn't say anything but you could feel his eyes on you as the both of you walked slowly through your private gardens.

The playful and innocent mood like a summer breeze had been clouded by the cold winds of winter. Of reality.

---

"You came."

You breathed out. Not really believing he was standing there, in front of you when you were literally getting married tomorrow.

"You called."

Jungkook answered. A fond smile was painted over his pink lips. His eyes twinkled with happiness upon seeing you. His hand reached forward in an unconscious manner. But he paused his motion before his palm graced your cheeks with his loving touch.

He lowered his arm and cleared his throat. Speaking once more to break the silence that fell between you two.

"I will not ask how you managed to send that note to me, Princess."

You let out a short laugh, blessing his ears with such a pure sound. A melody his heart cherished more than life itself.

"I have my ways, Officer Jeon."

He snorted at that, his frame relaxing in your presence as he leaned his side to the tree. His eyes never leave your own.

"Can't you call me by my name, Jungkook? Just once?"

Your plea made his eyes harden. You asked for the impossible but you desired more than oxygen to hear your name in his voice. That sweet voice that lived in your mind rent-free. That would console you in your memories when you were sad and would bring a smile upon your face in the most random times of the day.

"I cannot, Your Highness. It is against His Majesty's order to address you improperly."

You frowned.

"Even if I am asking you that?"

He sighed. A hand running though his dark hair. How you wished you could run your own hands through his locks. You could bet on your life they were as soft as cotton.

"I can't, princess. I'm sorry."

Silence stretched between you both. Somehow, the air felt colder, breathing got more challenging upon your rejected request.

"Why did you want to see me? Did you miss me that much?"

Jungkook said, trying to lighten the mood. A playful smirk over his lips. You looked up at him, your eyes as transparent as the lake's water; revealing your soul.

"I don't know if you'll want to speak to me after I say what's been on my mind for the last two days."

He lifted an eyebrow at your response. Curiosity got the best of him as he took a step away from the tree, now standing fully in front of you. The soft snow continues to dance around you.

"It can't be that bad, now can it? Just tell me, Princess."

You took a deep breath, your pulse quickening. This was it. The opportunity to speak your mind. To reveal your most intimate desire to him.

"I don't want to get married, Jungkook. I don't want to marry the Crown Prince. Jimin is worthy of the throne but... I don't love him."

He remained silent. His eyes turned from playful to serious the moment you mentioned your marriage. And he listened. He listened with all his attention to each word that left your lips.

"I can't marry a man I don't love. I want... I want to be with you. It is you who I want to marry, to spend the rest of my time with. Only you can make me happy, Jungkook and it breaks my heart every time I am reminded you won't be at the other end of the altar tomorrow."

Tears began to cloud your vision. But you tried to blink them back. This was what you had been trying to say to him. Yet your most desired thing in the word was still to get revealed.

"I want to leave, I want to leave this place, Kookie. I don't want to be a princess if it means I cannot be yours entirely. I burn for you, in every extent of the word. I cannot breathe when you are not near, I cannot think when I cannot see you close to me. You are everything to me."

A lump began forming in his throat. He felt exactly the same. Jungkook was glad you spoke of this first, you revealed your soul to him, your thoughts, your heart. You needed him. You lived with him, for him. It'd be a pointless life if you couldn't share it with him, he saw that now.

But the surprise when he heard you next couldn't be hidden even if he had wished to do so.

"I want to run away with you, Jungkook. "

---

"What are you doing outside at this hour, Jungkook?"

He untangled his hands from behind him and let them rest by his side, his eyes never leaving yours. Not knowing how his gaze alone was enough to make your heart thump wildly inside you.

"I couldn't sleep. I'll assume you are here because of the same reason."

You nodded, he took a step forward and your breath hitched in your throat. The action of inhaling was already painful as the air was cold, as cold as your neglected heart. Was he really going to take the risk of being this close to you? Another step. Perhaps he was. Then another. He certainly was.

It wasn't until he stood so close to you that you could feel his warm breath dust over your cold cheeks that you silently gasped and took a step back on instinct.

If anyone saw you both, there'd be problems. You didn't want that, not for Jungkook at least.

"And because I missed you. I had to see you. You do not only own this kingdom, you own my heart too and I couldn't live another day without seeing you, my Queen. For you are the one who rules my heart and soul."

You savoured the way his sweet words sprinkled your sour soul with sugar. It was delicious. To think that you were his, that he loved you, that he thought of you, dreamed of you. That he wanted you, perhaps even more strongly than how you wanted him.

You allowed yourself to drown in his sweet words. If only for a moment. Just a moment. A minute. A second would suffice. You didn't ask for more. You didn't want more. The only thing that you needed was his love and he gave it to you on a silver tray.

"Do you really want me that much?"

He nearly flinched at the way your voice was so soft, delicate even. Carrying emotions that were only reflected in your eyes.

"I want you with every fibre of my body and I can't stop thinking about that day. The day when you wanted to leave this place, I only want you to know that if the circumstances had been different, I would have escaped with you but taking you with me only meant death. I would rather die every day for not having you by my side than being the reason for your demise. I love you too much to do that to you."

You didn't realise you were crying until he reached his hand to wipe the tears but you took a step back. Hurt flashed in his eyes and that alone was enough for more tears to roll down your cheeks.

"You can't touch me, Jungkook. Not without the King's permission. Not even in an innocent way."

Your mumbled words reached his ears and he lowered his hand, he clenched it in a tight fist by his side but you didn't notice. Not when your eyes were glued to his own.

"And I understand why you didn't run away with me. I love you too much to get you killed. I'm so sorry I even proposed it on the first place."

His own eyes reflected the sadness in his soul in the form of tears. They glistened under the moonlight, little tears that he refused to let go; to set free.

"Do you really want me that much?"

A question you had already asked. A question he had already answered.

"Do you really want me that much, Jungkook? Even when I am another man's woman?"

He had to physically hold himself back so as to not take another step towards you. It pained him. His feet ached. His heart ached. It was painful to have you so close yet so far away at the same time yet he knew it had been like that since those warm summer days. Since the very beginning of the forbidden love story you developed with your royal guard.

Even when I am another man's woman...

Those words would repeat themselves in his head until the end of his days. A tear rolled down Jungkook's cheek, the chilly air hitting him and making him shiver.

You weren't his. Not anymore. You had never been his. At least not in this lifetime.

"You could never be tainted for me. You are and will always be perfect to hold my heart in your hands. And in our next life you will be mine, and if not in our next one or our next one after that. "

---

"Congratulations, Your Majesty."

Your steps halted when you heard his voice. A big banquet was held to announce your pregnancy to the village. Your father had come to bless you himself, he even told you he'd be staying during the last trimester of the pregnancy as he didn't want to miss the moment his grandchild were to be born.

You could only smile at that thought. But a gulp in your throat upon hearing that voice dissipated the thought, like fog when the sun came out. You turned around, eyes meeting with Jungkook's dark orbs.

A soft smile graced your lips yet he noticed how it didn't reach your eyes.

"Thank you, Jungkook."

There were so many things unsaid between you both. But have words ever been enough? He could see the sadness in your soul, the remorse, the longing and the love that existed in you. How Jungkook wished to go back to those summer days when everything was perfect, when you were happy along with him. When there existed no such barrier between you two of you being married to another man.

You could see it too, how his posture was tense, his eyes sharp with swirling storms of emotions in his dark gaze. You felt the yearning, the pain, the heartbreak from his part. And it crushed your heart even more for you knew he loved you but Jungkook couldn't step closer to you. Literally and figuratively.

He didn't know what else to say, all the courage he had managed to gather in the ceremony was gone now. Leaving him standing before you. His Queen; owner of his heart.

"I do not wish for this encounter to be like the last one, my queen. I only hope that you find the happiness you deserve for I cannot express how proud I am of you. Your child will resemble you in many ways, I am sure of it."

You wanted to run to him, hold his hand and wipe the tears that threatened to escape his eyes. But you could not. Dare not step such boundaries for his sake.

"You must find your happiness too, Jungkook. Live your life and live it right so that we can meet in our next lifetime."

---

A sharp pain made you gasp as your knees hit the floor, your dress puffing out around you. Jungkook was by your side the next second, concern was written all over his face while worry filled his eyes.

"Your Majesty, what's wrong? Please, talk to me."

You took a deep breath between your gasps and whimpers. Your hand grabbed his in your pain-induced mind, trying to ground yourself onto something, someone.

"I-It hurts... Jungkook, it h-hurts."

Your water broke the next second but you felt as if there was something wrong, this was not how a natural birth was supposed to start.

"Please... something's wrong. It- it hurts so much."

Tears gathered in your eyes as you tried to suppress the scream that threatened to escape your throat. You felt him let go of your hand, positioning his arms beneath your kneeling figure only to be lifted by him the next second.

Your arms circled his neck on instinct as you curled yourself in his hold. Jungkook began walking back to the palace at a fast pace, the weight of your body grounded his mind while at the same time numbed his senses. If you hadn't been in so much pain at that moment you would have noticed how his hands were trembling.

"Hold on, my Queen. You'll be fine, I'm here. It's alright."

He cradled you against his chest firmly, not wanting to let you go ever again now that you were in his arms. His heart feared for your safety, you were only eight months pregnant by now, he knew the risks of pregnancy and Jungkook knew he wouldn't be able to live if something were to happen to you.

Tears soaked his robes, your hand fisted his collar. Your small whimpers were like poisonous needles piercing his heart. It hurt. It pained him to see you in so much distress.

"Hold on, love. Please."

---

"You called for me, Your Majesty."

He bowed down at you and you sighed, realising how much you hated when he bowed at you when you'd go on your knees with only a word falling from his lips. He had that power over you. That way to command you. To make you feel.

"Jungkook."

The man before you lifted his gaze and your eyes met his once more. Had it been within any other circumstances, you'd have smiled and ran toward him. How you wish you could embrace him, how you wish you could kiss him and declare your love for him. How you wish you could love him freely.

You were sitting between blankets and cushions, taking rest after the hard labour. The prince lied next to you as he slept soundly while being wrapped up in luxurious fabric.

"I haven't seen you in a while."

He smiled. Not that smile that reached his eyes or that warmed your insides. It made you shiver with the sadness within it. Like a cold breeze on a winter day.

"I was told you were to rest, my Queen. Captain Min ordered me to give you some space, at least until you are feeling better."

You smiled, gesturing for him to sit in front of you, which he did. A moment of silence passed between you both. Your gaze lingered on his handsome features, drawing a map of him in your mind.

"I missed you."

He sighed at your whispered confession. Those words clawed at his heart with nothing but a heavy guilt that existed within him.

"My Queen... please."

You took a deep breath at his pleading, his begging. You looked aside as your heart constricted in your chest.

"Forgive me."

He looked at you with eyes full of emotions you weren't quick enough to grasp. Why must love hurt so much? Jungkook shifted his gaze from your figure, focusing on the little bundle where the prince, your son, slept peacefully.

"Congratulations on your baby. May prince Ha-joon live a long and happy life with his family."

---

"Kook!"

Ha-joon had said. Your hands felt cold against the warm cup, your soul froze when you looked up. There he was. Jeon Jungkook. You hadn't seen him in days. And before today there were only small peaks here and there followed by short greetings.

Jungkook turned to look at you, your eyes met his from across the garden. You felt your breath hitch in your throat at the mere sight of him. Your hands trembled around the cup, forcing you to put it away.

He bowed down at you slowly yet his eyes never left yours. Emotions invaded your body as you stood up from your chair. Hoseok noticed your actions and sat up, Ha-joon left his side and ran with his little legs where Jungkook was.

Your royal guard smiled down at your son and Hoseok stood up from the ground, walking the steps to where you stood.

"Your Majesty, are you alright? You look pale, should I walk you to your chambers?"

But you shook your head, your eyes following Jungkook's figure as he approached you with Ha-joon by his side. The little prince was telling him something that you couldn't hear and he smiled widely. Flashed him that bunny smile you loved so much and had missed just as fiercely.

Jungkook bowed down at you once he stood in front of you. Ha-joon looked up at the man next to him and mimicked his actions. Your heart clenched at the sight. Having the man you loved and your child who was your husband's son before you was too much for your heart.

It clenched inside you, it burned, it ached.

"Your Majesty."

Jungkook acknowledged you. You nodded softly at him and he rose to his full height. Ha-joon doing the same.

"Kook! Play, together."

Hoseok watched the interaction from where he stood. His own heart clenched at the sight of your hidden pain. You have always been an open book for your best friend. You had been able to hide your love from your father, even from your husband but not from Hoseok. He had known you his entire life. He knew you, he knew the core of your heart. He knew your unspoken words. He knew.

"Only if the queen allows it, my prince."

Jungkook's eyes found yours once more. A sad smile painted his lips. Ha-joon was a clear resemblance of you but also of his father and Jungkook was reminded once more of what he had lost the day you married Jimin. Of that dream that he wished would become his reality was instead a mountain of ashes. Of burnt dreams and wishes.

You smiled tightly at the pair in front of you, not wanting to deny sweet Ha-joon of his free days and innocent happiness.

"You may play, but please be careful."

---

"Jungkook."

His name coming from your lips was the sweetest melody he has ever heard. He had missed it. He had missed you. His eyes locked with yours and he nearly gasped at the sight of you laying on the soft bedding, your skin was paler than usual, your eyes were tired and your body was beyond weakened.

"Your Majesty."

He acknowledged you. Bowing softly at you without tearing his gaze from you. He saw you shift in your position, laying on your left side so you could see him properly. You smiled and in an instant his dark world was lightened by your existence.

"Come closer, Jungkook. Come here."

Your hand extended towards him as if trying to reach him. He couldn't hold himself back any longer upon your innocent request as his legs moved with a mind of their own. Nearly jumping until he was kneeling by your side, his hand holding yours ever so softly.

“I heard… I heard that you are sick, my Queen. Is it true?”

Jungkook asked almost shyly. Not meeting your eyes as his own gaze was fixed on your joined hands.

“It is.”

He sighed at your response. Feeling how his heart clenched within him. Tears watered his dark eyes and a lump grew in your throat at the sight of his sadness.

“Don’t cry, Jungkook. Don’t waste your tears over me.”

He looked up at you, his expression hurt with your words. A frown was between his brows, eyes watered with his materialised sadness and a soul that he could no longer carry on his own.

“How can you say that to me? I am dying with you, my Queen. Only you are capable of causing me the greatest pain yet it is you who eradicates it as well.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling your chest aching. Your mind was shutting down as you gazed at the man you loved with your entire being.

“Forgive me.”

He shook his head, refusing to let his tears roll down his cheeks as his eyes roamed over your face as if trying to memorise all your little details in his mind.

“It is I who should beg for forgiveness. I cannot protect you from this, I have failed you. I cannot prevent you from leaving me.”

A tear left the corner of your eye as you looked at him with so many unsaid things and raging emotions you were never able to pour out. It was too much. Too much love. Too much longing. Too much sadness. Too much anger. Your heart couldn’t take it any more.

“Maybe you can’t make me stay, but you gave me the opportunity of knowing what it was to love. Even when we couldn’t be together in the end, I still love you. I will always love you, Jungkook. In each… in each lifetime.”

—

A choked gasp left your lips as the memory dissipated from your mind like morning fog during a summer day. You didn't even realise you were crying until you sniffled and your hand came up to your face and your skin was wet with your own liquid sadness.

What kind of dream was this? What kind of cruelty had fate bestowed upon you? What kind of crime did you commit to feel this pain? You had loved, you had been loved only for it to melt like ice in those warm summer days when everything was perfect. You couldn't help the sob that escaped your lips as the realisation hit you:

You were the queen of the portrait. A representation of your old soul trapped in your past life as the unfortunate lover.

It wasn't a dream. It was a memory. Your memories from your past life and that love you were once denied to have.

Hoseok was nearing the hall of ancient artefacts when his phone rang and he stopped in his tracks. Jungkook halted beside him and waited in silence.

"I'm sorry, I have to take this. I left Miss (y/n) at the end of this hall. You shouldn't have difficulty finding her."

Jungkook bowed softly, his warm eyes meeting the ones of Hoseok as he spoke in his professional voice once more.

"Don't worry, Mr. Jung. I'll do my best to assist her."

Hoseok nodded before he accepted the call and walked away, leaving Jungkook to sigh to himself before he ventured on the journey of finding the eccentric politician's daughter.

He walked among the centuries of history around him, through the halls that held art and a lost empire through time. Something about his line of work had always intrigued him. It made him wonder just how insignificant life was. Years, decades and centuries of history, of people that once walked on this Earth were now kept in glass boxes, a strange way of trying to preserve what should have died years ago.

It made him think about all the lives, all the deaths, all the heartbreaks from the past. All those untold stories buried in time. In every aspect, in every lifetime, in every way. It was simply melancholic to acknowledge all the history around him.

Jungkook walked, allowing his mind to wander as he thought of the beautiful politician's daughter. He thought of the times he had seen her, seen you in important events. Always looking so beautiful, always captivating the media. Always perfect, always next to your powerful father.

He reached the end of the hall but there was no sight of you. A sudden tightness gripped his heart fiercely, as if he were in pain, as if someone clutched his heart in its claws and it bled out.

As if on instinct, Jungkook walked to the royal hall. His feet moved on their own, his mind spiralled with all kinds of thoughts. With dream-like memories that he would have sworn were from one of those historical dramas he knew were popular among the hopeless romantics.

The sound of a sob echoed over the walls and it was as painful as being stabbed on the heart. He turned around with urgency only to spot you looking at a painting, your back was facing him while your left hand covered your mouth.

"Miss (y/n)?"

Your eyes widened when you heard that voice. That voice that was lost in your thoughts. That voice that was from your forgotten memories. That same voice that had broken your heart was now stitching it back together.

You turned around, your misty eyes met his in a dance of emotions you were, for once, able to dance along. Pink petals from the cherry blossoms in the garden behind fell slowly and when your eyes locked with Jungkook's he saw it as well.

He saw everything. All those memories, all those experiences. He saw his love. His sadness. His life. His reason for living. His flower. His darling. All in ancient history.

Jungkook saw his past life with you.

Like a movie in front of his eyes. A dream he wanted to reach. A memory he had promised to not forget but time was cruel and it was buried in the depths of his soul.

"Jungkook? It's you, isn't it?"

Your voice brought him back from his forgotten memories. He looked at you with a familiarity and a strangeness in his eyes. It was enough to make tears roll down your cheeks while his own eyes watered at the impossible sight before him.

"...princess? H-how?...."

You sobbed and he walked toward you. Unable to resist the sight of your tears. Perhaps this was the first time he met you in this lifetime but your souls have been in love for centuries. Your heart hadn't changed, his feelings remained the same. Love cannot be killed, not even by death.

He stood at arms length, eyes gazing down at you with the urge to know the truth. To know if you were that missing piece in his life. To know if this lifetime was worth-living.

"You found me. You said you'd find me."

Was this a dream? Was this a false memory? Was this real? He deeply needed for it to be real. Jungkook felt whole when he looked down at you. As if you were the missing piece for this puzzle called life. And you? You didn't know if he still wanted you. If Jungkook was your Jungkook. Your lost lover. Your forbidden romance. Your unfinished story.

"In every lifetime, princess."

His hand flexed next to him with the urge to touch you. To hug you and never let you go. To kiss you. To finally kiss you after all those denied moments he had before. To love you like he had dreamt long ago.

You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand and something on your wrist caught his attention. It was a subtle glimpse of a red string around your wrist and he knew, in that moment he knew.

"You still wear it huh?"

A smile appeared on your lips at the same words he had spoken to you. A long time ago. Once upon a dream. In another lifetime. And the same answer is what he got. The same words that you had replied to him. The answer to his lovely sentence.

"I never took it off."

He was referring to your red bracelet. Something you remember always having, never truly knowing how you got to possess such a beautiful item but it simply felt right to wear it. So you did, you never took it off. As if it was engraved in your skin, almost like Jungkook's name was written in your soul and his whispered love was locked away in your heart.

"Can... Can I hold you?"

There was desperation in his voice. It sounded almost bitter that it pulled on your heartstrings. You nodded almost immediately. Burning just as him to feel him once more, to touch the man you had missed for centuries. To be held by your one and only love.

You were in his arms the next second. His hands pressed you against his chest as your own circled his waist. A long lost hug. A missed love. A romance out of time. But it was a timeless love nonetheless.

Something clicked inside you once you were held by Jungkook. As if your heart had been filled with his life, as if your broken soul was stitched back with just his simple touch. As if memories had been unlocked after your skin touched his.

"I missed you. I missed you so much, queen of my heart."

His hold on you tightened and you couldn't help but bury your face in his chest. How he had wished to do this in his first lifetime. How he wished he had been able to hold you like this. How he wished he had had you before just like this.

All the pain was gone. The tears were dried by his love. His hands held your heart so softly and purely you didn't want to part from him. You couldn't. You wouldn't. You wouldn't let go of him like that once more. You weren't going to lose him again. Not after all that pain, all that heartbreak, all those tears and all that yearning. Not again. Never again.

"I missed you too. So much, so much..."

Jungkook rested his chin at the top of your head, closing his eyes as he held you softly but firmly. It made him wonder just how much time you had been robbed in your past life. He realised just how evil fate had been to break you both like that. To separate two lovers is the worst cruelty of this fallen world.

But now, those cold days are over. Winter had passed. Even after centuries of living buried in the freezing snow, warmth had finally touched his heart. The soft rays of the sun were melting his once frozen soul. Your love did that. Only with you was he able to live in warmth. Only with you existed that flame in his heart that kept him alive.

You looked up at him and he met your gaze midway. It was magical. To look at the eyes you had unknowingly missed so much. How your soul was mourning the loss of Jungkook, how your life was always grey and cold was now warm and coloured in pink. Like the petals falling behind you.

One of his hands cradled your cheek and you smiled. Your heart was beating wildly in your heart at the proximity, at the love, at the emotions that came flooding like a waterfall from the sky.

You stood on your tippy toes only to press your lips against his. It was soft, delicate. Like a spring breeze. A kiss full of love. A healing kiss. A kiss that should have happened a long time ago. Jungkook kissed you back, burning at the feeling of your soft lips against his.

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss and you sighed, tightening your grip around his waist as he poured all those long lost emotions into that kiss. A kiss he had wished he could give you centuries ago. All the love, all the yearning, all the heartbreak, all the feelings of missing you, missing your warmth, your love, your touch, your existence were poured into that kiss.

A sealed kiss of timeless love.

"Don't ever leave me again."

He whispered against your lips. voice desperate with the promise of your love. Of your devotion. Of eternity.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Your answer was said in a soft voice, only meant for Jungkook to hear. He pressed his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes as he felt the memories slowly come back to him. During those golden summer days, rainy autumn evenings and cold winter nights. Everything about his life with you came back like a soft spring drizzle over his soul.

Perhaps fate had been cruel when he separated you from your Jungkook with death. But it now gave you the opportunity with your rightful lover. That soulmate you were destined to love since the very beginning of life.

Through life and death, only time gets in between. Through tears and pain, it is love that keeps the hope alive and through silent feelings and absent minds; it is time that keeps them together in a dance with a melody only meant for the tangled lovers to hear.

In every lifetime, in every way, in every universe and in every season. Love is stronger than death.

February/16/2024

~Masterpost

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments, darlings!

**I do NOT give my consent for this or any of my works to be posted or translated into any other platforms or languages.

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enkas-illusion · 5 months

Text

Games at the Fair

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Fluff – nonetheless, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Theme: Friends to lovers (more like situationship to relationship I guess??) ; non-sorcerer au

Content warning: fluff, jealous Nanami, flirty stranger Choso x reader, suggestive, mentions of smut

Summary:

You've been conflicted over your situationship with Nanami Kento ever since the two of you shared a moment two weeks ago. The elephant in the room has been left unaddressed so meeting your crush/friend for the first time in two weeks makes you feel some type of way. The stars align when a hot stranger named Choso tries to woo you at the fair, you decide to indulge in his advances a bit to force a reaction out of Kento instead of talking to him like a sensible adult.

Author's Note: Hello, this is my first attempt at writing a one-shot. Borderline giggling-in-your-bed, kicking-your-feet type fluff but love is cringe so it is what it is. All characters are in their 20s. If you enjoy it, feel free to like, reblog or comment. Open to criticism, just be kind about it. Thank you for reading!

-Eren’s Birdie

Song dedication: Yes or No by Jungkook / Love Talk (English Ver.) by WayV

Your eyes wander to the cafe door once again when you hear it open. You think you're being sneaky with it but your desperation did not go unnoticed by a certain loudmouth.

"He'll be here, chill already! Kento is a man of his word," Gojo teases, making the rest of the group giggle.

"Yeah well... okay whatever." You reply curtly. Your gaze moves up from your coffee to look at your friends, only to find Satoru, Suguru and Shoko all looking at you intently.

"We were pretty drunk that night but not so wasted that we’d forget everything. We saw you two leave the club together and you're kinda painfully obvious about your infatuation... So what's up with you two?" Suguru inquires calmly.

Geto often swears he couldn't care less about gossip but he's annoyingly attentive when it comes to catching hints and linking pieces together when there's any sort of drama encroaching.

You consider rolling your eyes but for some reason you feel like a criminal caught in an act... there's only so much one can evade before they gotta surrender. So you give in and lean forward towards the table but not before glancing at the door. Only this time, it's to make sure Nanami isn't the one walking in.

"Well, that night, if you guys remember, Kento was the only one who had decided to stay sober since he assigned himself as the driver-" You began, only to be interrupted by Gojo.

"Yeah and for what?! He booked an uber for the rest of us anyway when he left alone with you." Shoko smacks him on the head as if to shut him up. You side-eye him as you continue your story.

"Anyway... so, having had one too many shots, I was right up there with you guys. But when I started feeling a bit uneasy, Kento offered to drop me home and come back again." You realise you're fidgeting with the sugar packet on the table nervously but you stop the action as you look up to see all three of your friends leaning in, waiting for you to continue. It almost makes you laugh but you hold back because you know the odds aren't particularly in your favour with this story, and you’d hate to be teased for it by them later tonight.

"And then he drove me to my place. I invited him up for a cup of coffee-"

"At like 2 in the morning?" It's Suguru this time.

"It was the alcohol talking, okay?" You sigh and he simply shrugs, urging you to continue.

"We did end up having some coffee and we talked till like 4am? I’m not actually sure but it was late late. By that time, I was neither buzzed, nor uneasy. I was well aware of everything that was happening... and it just so happened that we kinda kissed and then he blurted out some excuse and left." You mumble towards the end of the sentence; so much so that if your friends weren't as invested in this story, they would've probably missed what you'd just said.

"HOLD ON- what do you mean kinda kissed and left?" Satoru almost yells. "Please elaborate." Suguru adds.

"Well, it just happened, okay? I don't know how to explain it, one minute we were talking and the next minute he held my face and pulled me in to kiss me so sensually, yet so softly that I honestly don't know what to make of it! But when things got heated, he excused himself cause he didn't think it was right to take advantage of me when I was drunk. I tried telling him I wasn't but he just left. He said he'd talk to me later but he has texted me about everything BUT the incident as if it never happened and do you know how annoying it is cause it's been TWO WHOLE WEEKS!" You sigh, out of breath, only now realising you could probably give Eminem a run for his money with how quickly you blurted everything out.

"Jeezzzz... that's bad. How can Ken fumble so badly?" Gojo laughs in disbelief.

Shoko adds, "He clearly likes you, and it's obvious you like him too - yet both of y'all are pussies who are too scared to do anything about it. It's the most frustrating trope of all romances if you ask me."

"Well, what do you want me to do? He has to be the one to initiate it. He's the one who left me hanging." You state, matter-of-factly.

"Whatever it is, figure it out asap cause here comes your man." Satoru gives you a sly smile before waving and smiling at the door. You turn to look at Kento walking in. He's wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up halfway and you mentally slap yourself for instantly feeling aroused at the sight.

"Hi," his voice breaks your trance as you greet him back along with everyone else. "Sorry for being late, I had to wrap up some things last minute at work." He adds. Maybe you're being delusional but it sort of feels like he's directed it specifically to you.

"No worries Kennyyy, we've got our tickets right here, we can walk right in front of the line at each ride." Gojo waves the tickets proudly as Kento makes a less than pleasant face at his friend's stupid nickname.

"Thank you Satoru, what would I possibly do without you." Kento says it with a straight face, making you snort quietly. Your eyes meet for a split second when he looks at you and suddenly you're reminded of how nervous you're supposed to be around him.

"Let's get going? Would still hate a big crowd even if we had the premium passes." Suguru interjects as you all pay and leave.

You hand Kento a Matcha-flavoured cold coffee. Although it's common knowledge that it's his go-to drink of choice, he raises an eyebrow in surprise while accepting it. "Thank you." He gives you a quick smile as he walks out the coffee shop, next to you.

But wait a minute... Your brain goes into overthinking mode as you realise you seem too pliant. Bringing him his favourite drink, making those eyes at him, laughing at his jokes, seemingly ignoring the elephant in the room for his convenience.

And before you could rationalise with your own self, you clarify, "We knew the guys would want to rush to the fair as soon as you arrive so Shoko thought it'd be a good idea to order yours beforehand."

Lies. Pure bullshit. But two can play this game so that’s exactly what you were planning to do.

The carnival was a short walk away and Gojo generously allows everyone about 20 minutes to do their own thing before calling them to where the roller coaster is.

Suguru and Satoru had split from the rest to check out the Mirror house and Horror house. You lock arms with Shoko as the two of you seemingly share a single brain cell when you rush towards the candy stall. This stall in particular had been on your list ever since Shoko had heard that they had candy in every flavour imaginable. Nanami tags alongside with his hands in his pocket, comfortable with being left out.

"Let's get the basics out of the way. The sweetest, tooth decaying batch for Satoru?" You wonder out loud.

"And half sour, half spicy for Suguru?" Shoko adds and the person attending to you suggests a few options. While you're busy choosing for the boys, you hear Nanami speak for the first time in what feels like forever. "What are you planning to pick for me?"

"Kento you're never really picky about food so I don't really know what you enjoy… I'm the wrong person to ask…" Shoko says awkwardly. She was trying to give you an opening. He looks at you to check if you caught onto the fact that the question wasn't for her to begin with.

"Hmm… since you're here, it'd be best that you pick whatever you like." You give him a half-forced smile.

He looks like he’s about to retaliate but his mouth closes as soon as it opens and it has you wondering what he’s fighting his own mind over so hard. Was it really that conflicting to decide whether he liked you or not? You push the unnecessary thought to the back of your head, not really wanting to dive deep into the feelings department at that moment.

Instead he turns around and picks a mixed bag of chocolates that ranges from pure milk to 99% cocoa. You would've picked the same for him and it kind of makes you happy that you know him so well. Maybe you were being a bit mean now, but nevermind - this is the plan, to rile him up so much that he has no option but to realise that some issues need addressing.

Once you pay for the candies, you buy a few more snacks from other stalls before you see Gojo's texts on the group chat, calling everyone to where the roller coaster is.

Like Gojo had said before, the premium ticket really does push you to the top of the line. You barely have to wait for a few moments for them to do the basic machinery check before the group of 12 people that you're a part of is let in.

As if following an unspoken agreement, Shoko and Suguru sit together at the front but Satoru is too much of a dumbass to get the memo. As soon as Kento sits on one of the seats, Satoru climbs in next to him. You quickly sit behind Kento to avoid further embarrassment.

Shoko turns around and her face almost looks murderous when she stares at Gojo. He only shrugs back at her. Seriously, how can someone be so smart yet so oblivious and clueless when it actually counts???

You're too busy to notice the person next to you. But you turn your head when you see their seatbelt being secured in place along with yours.

"Well if it isn't my lucky day," the guy says as he looks at you, "... sitting on a roller coaster next to a pretty lady."

You're amused by the compliment. You know this all too well — the easy to flirt, charming, hot guy who knows exactly what to say to get the girls swooning. The tattooed sleeve and dishevelled hair only feed into the fuckboy image and you know better than to be serious so you decide to humour him.

"And why might sitting next to pretty ladies be of any consolation? Don't tell me you're scared of a carnival ride." You feign shock.

"Nah, it's a relief. We get the hand holding part out of the way, and when this is done, we can move onto better rides." He winks at you.

"And who says I'm holding your hand?" You raise an eyebrow at him.

"And why wouldn't you want to?" He challenges you, copying your tone. He makes a waving motion over his face and body as if to present himself to you. It kinda makes you laugh as you visibly cringe.

"Alright, fine! We can go the usual route of dinner and a movie first!" He adds.

"My god, you're relentless!" You're fully laughing at how unserious this strange man is.

"Actually people usually call me Choso but I think I can get used to Relentless." He puts his hand out and you shake it briefly.

"Hi Relentless, I'm y/n," you reply, smiling.

"A pretty name for a pretty lady," he says, repeating your name. You hear the first signal that secures the seatbelts in place. Choso puts his hand out and you look at him.

Your eyes briefly wander to the front to check if the stranger's words had any effect on Nanami. Even if it did, you're disappointed to see that he wasn't showing it at all.

"I don't remember saying yes?" You question playfully.

"Will it improve my chances if I say that I'm terrified of roller coasters?" He retorts.

"Are you? For real?" You ask, surprised.

"Nope." He snorts, still holding his hand open invitingly. You laugh before swatting his hand away.

"I don't hold hands till the 10th date!" You joke as another signal blares and the roller coaster slowly begins moving towards the drop.

"So does that mean I can hold your hand after 9 more dates?" He teases.

"Guess you'll never know unless you try." You tease him back.

Just before the dip, you swear you saw Kento look back to give Choso a quick stare down, but before your brain could note it for later analysis, the adrenaline overtook as soon as the ride commenced.

When it ends, you quickly say your goodbyes to Choso before you regroup with your friends. You'd stay here all night if you were to decipher each of your friends' emotions but more or less everyone made a what was that!? face, except for Kento. His face had pure annoyance written over it. You were almost surprised by how obvious his usually unreadable face was.

You change the subject to talk about random shit as you walk towards the games section. When the rest of the group starts chattering about whatever, Nanami pulls at your arm to slow your pace to let the group walk ahead. You slow down as you fall behind and he finally speaks up.

"Care to explain?" His voice is calm but laced with irritation.

"Explain what?" You frown.

"I thought we..." he trails off, as if he's unsure about the right words to use. You decide you’ve had enough of him wanting to say something yet saying nothing at all. So you decide to do it for him.

"Yes, I also thought we had something going on but it's okay, you take your time, ignore me for 2 more weeks if it suits you and run away again the next time something happens." You say, mostly calm but almost not. It's only now that you were letting your annoyance take control because you were upset. Clearly. The last two weeks had been awful, mentally playing a game of ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ each time he texted you.

Kento's eyes soften as he runs his hand through his hair, "I'm sorry, I should've reached out. I got busy with work after the weekend and later I figured I could just talk to you face-to-face when we met today."

Excuses. Not good enough.

"You had plenty of chances to do just that in the last hour or so. I like you Kento... I don't know how many more hints you want. But I'm kinda disappointed..." you look at him.

Nope this is enough, best not to take shit any further, you decide. But that's the problem with confronting someone, you always test the limits of how much you can poke a person till they burst, "I hate indecisiveness. At least Choso knows for sure what he wants and makes his move on time."

The puppy eyes he was looking at you with up until a second ago fade away and his jaw tightens as he gulps whatever words he had on the tip of his tongue. Speaking of the devil, as if on cue, you see Choso near the games section, only to find him already looking at you.

"Date 2?" Choso grins at you, "Tell me sweetheart, do you like stuffed toys?" You nod.

You can sense the tension as Choso ignores Kento who’s standing right next to you the whole time. You walk further away from both the men, suddenly finding the display of the soft toys a bit too interesting. Shoko is looking at the stacked toy pyramid and you ask her what prize is for what game.

"The dolphins and elephants at the bottom are for whack-a-mole," she says, pointing at Satoru who's frantically trying to win it.

"The random tier above it, ugliest by the way, is for the ring hoop thingy," she points at Suguru trying his hand at the game.

"And the top tier with the fluffy teddy bears is for Target shooting," she points at the stall where you were just a minute ago. You turn to look at Choso and Kento both picking up rifles to begin shooting their respective targets.

No matter how annoyed you may be at him, you can never ignore just how beautiful the man is. His forearms look delicious as he adjusts the rifle to his shoulder. You peel your eyes away from Kento’s veiny arms with much difficulty and focus your eyes on the target.

Each person gets five shots. Five clean shots to win the teddy bear. And both the guys take their aims in tandem. It almost feels like watching two teams take penalties during a FIFA world cup finale, not knowing who's gonna win.

You know Kento is competitive but he's always a good sport even when he loses a card or board game to you. Once again you’re surprised to see him groan out loud in frustration when he misses the last shot, whereas Choso gets a perfect score, winning the teddy bear.

Choso brings the big teddy and hands it to you, "Let's exchange gifts? My teddy for your number?" You smile at the soft toy in your hands. Before you have a chance to respond, you hear Kento’s stern voice coming from behind Choso.

"No. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let that happen." he declares. Hell of an awkward situation to be in as Choso, you and Shoko all stare at Kento, who looks visibly angry.

Kento points at the Panda at the very top, the biggest prize of them all, "What the hell is that one for?"

"Oh... No one tries that ‘cause it's the hardest, Beat the bar challenge. You gotta hang onto the pull up bar for 3 whole minutes so it's basically an impossible prize." Shoko explains.

"Okay." Is all Kento says in return as he walks towards the man in charge of the bar challenge game. He gives the man a token and pulls up his sleeves even further as he grabs the bar.

You stare in disbelief as the countdown lights up on an LED display next to the bar as he hangs to it. It has you baffled that Nanami is doing this out of pure spite and jealousy but you'd be lying if you said you weren't turned on by the change in his demeanour, seeing him all worked up like this.

As he passes the two minute mark, without any sign of struggle, a sizable crowd gathers there to see if he really takes the panda home. Towards the end, Gojo and Geto start the 15 seconds countdown, hollering and hooting to cheer at their friend.

When Nanami's eyes meet yours, his cocky smile only grows when he sees you cheer on him as well. The tiny crowd roars when the 3 minute mark is crossed.

He half-yells a, "Just to be sure" as he does a muscle up with ease before jumping down from the bar. You're impressed but you still mouth a ‘show off’ as you roll your eyes at him jokingly. He walks towards you with the prize panda in hand.

The panda is about three feet tall and extremely fluffy — no wonder it was the top prize.

Kento, not so politely, pulls away the bear Choso had won for you and instead holds his panda out in front of you. He looks to the side to find the other man and with a smug smile tosses the bear back at Choso, who catches it with quick reflex.

You're still processing the whole thing because you kinda want to memorise every moment - this is so out of character for the stoic man you've always had a crush on. You've liked him for how calm and composed he is but seeing him like this has almost multiplied your attraction to him tenfold. Guess you pressed all the right buttons.

He pulls you out of your reverie as he says, "Is this decisive enough for you?"

And before you can answer, he pulls at your waist with his free hand till you're flush against his chest.

His head leans down to your level as he kisses you more passionately than he did the first time at your place and you can't help but feel weak in your knees. You feel as if your brain is going to short-circuit any minute now but you kiss him back, relishing every moment of it before he pulls back.

"I'm going to assume that's a yes." You can't help but blush as you look down to avoid his eye contact. How can you possibly stay mad when he has so clearly declared his intentions with you in front of everyone.

"Satoru, I take it you have your car this time. I’m gonna ask for a raincheck on drinks night." Nanami says to his friend. You feel dazed as you simply look at your three friends with equal amounts of embarrassment, shock and excitement.

Reading between the lines isn't hard. Kento might as well have said 'I'm going to fuck her and I cannot wait one moment for it' cause that's what his words seemed to imply.

“Why am I even surprised?" Gojo sighs.

Shoko punches his arm, "I'm pretty sure they couldn't care less about those drinks."

"Righttt," Satoru grins at you and says, "Have fun! Kenny has a really big penny. Saw it in the gym locker room once."

"SATORU!", you scold him.

"Hey dumbass, maintain some decorum." Suguru cringes.

"It's okay, she's about to find out anyway." Kento says coolly as he intertwines his fingers with yours and starts marching towards the gates.

You stare back to see you can't find Choso anywhere. Makes sense, you note to yourself. Then your eyes land on your friends and you grin with all your teeth. You turn your head to the front again as you look up at your man.

Up close, you notice the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead from all the exertion at the pull up bar. Holy shit, you wonder, everything about this night couldn't have gone any better... but you have a hunch, he's about to prove you wrong all night long.

#erensbirdie #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsukaisen x reader #nanami x reader #nanamikento x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento #nanami fluff #nanami smut

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mrsensitive · 1 year

Text

4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did

a good old 4+1 ft. best friend beau & a couple other cameos, some mutual pining and also reader is a costume designer . kind of an elaboration of a lil blurb i wrote a while ago so if it seems familiar no it doesn't 😋

You’d never been more grateful for Friday to roll around. You’d had what felt like the longest week from hell and just wanted to take your mind off everything, so when your new neighbour turned best friend Beau texted you to meet him and a couple friends at the bar, the thought that you wouldn’t know half the people there wasn’t enough to dissuade you from joining.

When you arrive, you’re quick to spot the group - Beau hadn’t lied when he said it wasn’t just the team, but he might’ve stretched the truth when he said you already knew some of the guys. A quick once over is enough for you to realise the only other person you really know is Brock. Sure, you had heard of the others from Beau’s stories and the fact that you sometimes watched the games, but you were starting to wonder if you should’ve just gone home to your bottle of wine instead.

Beau is quick to welcome you though, flooding you with the names of everyone you’d yet to meet and pushing you into the seat he’d just vacated.

“Wait here, I’m getting the next round,” he beams at you, a good few drinks in already. “Brock come give me a hand, bud.”

You try to get your bearings a little, looking around trying to commit names to faces since the only two people you knew had left, and you realise mostly everyone is in their own conversations save for the guy on your right. You pause, staring at him trying to remember his name as he watches you struggle, clearly bemused.

“It’s Quinn,” he offers after a moment or two. He’s laughing lightly and you relax in your seat a little. “Don’t sweat it.”

You breathe out a smile, “Thanks. I was getting there, y’know.” You pause, taking a moment to get a better look at him. “Hughes, right? I’ve seen you play before. You’re a great skater.”

“Oh uh…thanks.” He shifts a little in his seat. “Beau’s talked about you a couple times actually. So it’s nice to meet you finally.”

You can’t help your eyebrows from shooting up, both of you are equally surprised and amused that you’re even aware of the other. You’re half expecting Quinn to elaborate, scanning his face for any hint that what Beau’s said about you was any level of incriminating, but somehow, you find yourself a bit distracted by the way his hair is curling over his forehead.

Before either of you can say anything, Beau’s dropped a glass in front of you and inserted himself back in the conversation.

“So what was so terrible about work this week? What’s the drama this time?”

You let out a sigh, remembering why you’d dragged yourself here in the first place. “Oh, nothing new. They just decided to reschedule all our fittings so we barely had the right costumes prepared - which is just an embarrassing look for me, you know, even if it literally wasn’t my fault. I was running all over the place trying to make it work - and then on top of that I find out they’ve put our costume truck about three states over from where the set is so I’ve got to hassle someone about that and-”

“Costumes?” Your rambling is cut off by Quinn who looks much more interested than Beau, who, to his credit, has heard some variation of this story just about every other week.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a costume designer,” you explain, “I’m working on a movie at the moment.” For some reason you feel rather embarrassed that you didn’t clarify this to him before and you’re hoping the dim lighting is hiding the way you’ve started blushing.

“I’m going to take this as my cue to leave.” Beau says, already standing up to move across the table, “You tell Quinn the whole back story and I’ll come back when you’re done with that, okay?”

Beau, in fact, does not come back for the rest of the night but you’re so wrapped up in your conversation with Quinn that you don’t particularly notice anyway. Usually you hate talking about yourself, but the drinks have loosened you up and he seems so genuinely curious and intrigued about you. He asks how you met Beau, so you tell him the story of how his 7’s look a little too much like 1’s and you ended up getting so much of his mail that you had to go and confront him about it. You try to ask him about hockey but he seems rather adept at deflecting the conversation back to you every time. You can’t help but bask in the full attention he’s giving you and the more drinks you have, the more you find yourself quietly admiring his bone structure. You’re a little surprised to hear yourself laughing so much and how easily the conversation moves that you can’t quite remember how you ended up discussing how you both think roses are overrated.

You’re so caught up in each other that neither of you catch Brock nudging Beau and nodding his head towards you across the table.

“You reckon?” Brock asks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Oh, easily. I’ve been watching them all night.”

You pick up Beau’s call almost immediately.

“Hey, what’s up? Do you need something?” There’s a tinge of confusion in your voice.

“What? No, I just- I have an extra ticket to the game tonight and I was going to offer it to you if you weren’t being so snappy.” Beau teases.

“Oh,” you let out a chuckle, “Sorry, you just never call. I do happen to be free tonight though, if the offer’s still on the table...”

“Great, I’ll send you the ticket,” you can hear him smiling through the line. “Don’t drive, I’ll give you a lift if you wait a little after the game. Stick around and say hi to some of the other guys too.”

“Sure,” you reply, “I’ll see you later then. Maybe score or win or something? I dunno, make it worth my night?”

“Yeah ok,” you can hear him laughing now, “Will do, just for you. See you soon.”

And even if you were only joking, the team does deliver on your request. You hang by the exit as you wait for Beau, congratulating some of the other guys on the win as they start to trickle out. When Quinn catches sight of you, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and you can’t help the way you mirror it.

“Hey Quinner, congrats on the game,” you greet him, “Big win!”

You’re mildly aware of the way your heart rate has picked up slightly since he stopped in front of you. You want to believe that it’s just because the handful of times you’ve seen him now have always been aided with a bit of liquid courage, even if you’re currently fixating on his slightly damp hair and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder. Quinn, however, is severely aware of the way his heart rate seemed to stop upon hearing the nickname leave your mouth.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, thanks. I didn’t realise you were going to be here?”

“Beau said he had an extra ticket last minute - enticed me with a ride home, so I’m just waiting for him now.”

“Yeah, he should be done with the interviews soon - you know, three point night and all,” he laughs, glancing back at the doorway in search of a sign of his teammate.

“Coming from you, mister record breaker!”

Quinn whips his head back around to you, eyes wide as he starts to mumble something to try and downplay his night. He knows he’s blushing from the way he can feel his cheeks burning but he’s hoping it could be disguised as some sort of postgame flush.

You can’t help but let out a laugh at how off guard your comment seemed to catch him. “Surely you’re going out to celebrate?”

“Oh, I don’t know… we’ve got an early start tomorrow…” He rubs a hand at the back of his neck and your eyes flicker to his bicep briefly.

“Hmmm boring,” you tease, “All work and no play I guess.”

Something in your tone has him grinning now. “No rest for the wicked,” he quips.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, you’ve had an audience for just about all of your conversation.

“Is this what he looks like when he’s trying to flirt?” Petey asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I guess. Or trying to, at least,” Brock answers, still eyeing the scene in front of him. “How long do we think til they do something about it?”

Beau’s appeared next to them at the door now too, smirking as he watches you and Quinn completely oblivious to everyone else.

“Wanna take bets?”

Quinn’s nervous. He’s already texted you to let you know he’s arrived but he’s expecting that you’ll have to turn him away last minute. He’s still in disbelief that he’s even here, despite the fact that you’d offered to have him visit you on set several times already, but he always thought it was just a throw away thing you would say to be nice. He only tells you this about the fourth time you’ve asked, the arrival of the post season working out with one of the quieter days of your schedule, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing in his face about it.

“Quinn. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it. Most of our conversations are about movies, so I just thought you might find it cool to see what it’s like,” you shrug. "I've watched you play games before so it feels kind of fair, right?’

As much as he protests that it’s different, you are kind of right, naturally. He thinks it is extremely cool that this is what you do for a living, and even cooler that you’d even considered to bring him along and show him a part of it. At least, cool is what he’s trying to convince himself he’s feeling about it all.

When he sees how excited you look, running out to meet him, he once again can’t help the grin that weasels its way onto his face. He holds out the second coffee cup in his hand to you.

“Hey,” he greets, “I brought you a coffee. I stopped on my way here but I didn’t really know what you usually get or if you prefer, like, hot or iced? So I just got you what I get which is-”

You’re pleasantly surprised and amused, letting him ramble a little before you cut him off, thanking him and groaning when you take a sip. “God, thank you. I’ve already had one today but I truly needed this.”

He’s relieved to hear it, immediately relaxing. “Hectic day then?”

“Kind of, but like… A controlled hectic you know?” You pause, giving him a once over, realising he’s a little less jittery than a minute ago - and also that he looks good. You’ve only ever really seen him in very weak bar lighting, or after a hockey game - but definitely never before lunch. The sun looks good on him you think, and you’re rather charmed by the outfit he’s picked out for the occasion but you’re quick to snap yourself out of your thoughts.

“Let me show you around!”

You give him a tour of the set, proudly pointing out how you managed to convince them to move your trailer closer, talking him through your designs you have pinned up and showing him some of the final costumes.

Quinn’s already wide-eyed, kid in a candy store at all of this, staring and asking if he can touch things. He almost doesn’t believe you when you say he can watch them film a scene or two. He’s amazed by the whole set up of it all, the cameras, the monitors, all the people who seem to be constantly walking places very quickly with a lot of purpose. You lead him to your little costume camp in the corner, letting out a chuckle at how impressed he is.

“Okay, look so I do kind of have to do my job and leave you alone here, but just stay where I tell you to, don’t get in the way and you’ll be fine.” You’ve barely finished your sentence when someone calls your name, so you’re pushing Quinn into an empty chair, wincing a smile at him and scurrying away.

You don’t really get a chance to check back in on him for a good hour or two, but Quinn’s barely noticed the amount of time that’s gone by. He’s shocked at the fact that he’s so close to actors who he actually recognises, but he’s even more in awe simply watching you in your element. He knew you’d downplayed your role to him but even so, he’s mesmerised at the way you’re handling everyone’s questions, how you’re there in between takes to fix collars and ties and things he hadn’t even noticed, at how almost out of nowhere, you suddenly seem to have this commanding yet gracious air of authority around you. He’s never seen or even pictured you like this but he’s completely caught up in it, not realising that one of the makeup artists has been watching his laser focus on you this whole time and sidled up to him.

He doesn’t quite hear her at first.

“I was just asking if you were the boyfriend?”

Quinn’s immediately blushing furiously and he’s only glad that you aren’t there to see it. “No- no, um. Just, uhh, just a friend is all.”

His response appropriately earns a raised eyebrow.

“Ahhh, okay. Gotcha. Sorry, was just asking,” she pauses, entertained by his spluttering, “She’s rather amazing, you know? Really great at her job and just incredible in general.”

“Yeah, I, uh- I know,” he answers, glancing at you briefly. There’s something in this stranger’s tone that has him slightly confused, wondering why he’s being told this.

She only hums in response before walking away, leaving him to try not to overthink the interaction. He quickly pushes it aside when he sees you making your way over.

“Hey,” you grin, coming to a stop in front of him, “Been having fun?”

“Oh yeah,” he perks up immediately, “Heaps.”

“Great, because we’re starting to wrap up. I’ll take you back out to the entrance, save you all the boring stuff, y’know?”

Quinn’s surprised that it’s already heading into the late afternoon when you exit the studio. He turns to look at you, shoving his hands into his pockets and mustering up as much sincerity as he can.

“Thanks again for having me. It was, um, it was really cool watching you do your thing.”

“Well thanks for finally taking me up on my offer,” you counter, “and thanks for the coffee. I’m glad you had fun, really." You pause, cocking your head slightly, “We’ll go watch the movie together when it’s out.”

This, Quinn is sure, is a throw away line, at least he thinks. You’re not completely sure if you meant it either, but you know you only said it because you knew he would take it as one.

A couple days later you get a text out of the blue from Beau, and then Brock.

Beau: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU TOOK QUINN ON SET???? I’VE KNOWN YOU FOR HOW LONG AND YOU’VE NEVER ASKED ME?!!?!?!

Brock: I like movies too :))

For whatever reason, Beau’s apartment had become the designated gathering spot. You’d already found yourself there a couple times already with the rest of the group, so you didn’t really question it when he ropes you into the games night he’s hosting, claiming they need another person to even out the numbers. It doesn’t occur to you to ask why he couldn’t have asked literally any of the other guys instead, so you don’t realise he has a whole catalogue of excuses ready to cover the fact that he’d been orchestrating a reason to get you and Quinn in the same room again.

If anyone were to ask Quinn why he was late, he also had his own list of excuses ready to rattle off before he’d admit the truth. He’d spent an embarrassingly long amount of time switching between three shirts knowing that he’d see you - and so what if you’d done the same, as long as nobody else knew?

Currently, you’re all way too many drinks in, lining up along the couch in preparation for the final tie breaking round of charades. Beau’s couch is definitely not big enough to fit six of you but you all squish in anyway, mostly too drunk or too determined to win to care. You should have expected this level of competition from a group of professional athletes; you've done a good job of keeping up all night, but you’re suddenly very acutely aware of how close Quinn is sitting next to you. You take another hard swallow from your drink before turning your focus onto Beau flailing his arms in front of you.

You manage to keep your cool through several rounds, but eventually you realise Quinn’s thigh has, at some point, ended up pressed firmly against yours. Immediately your whole leg is tingling and your face is flaming up, but Quinn doesn’t seem to show any signs of pulling away, or simply even realising. You blink, trying to refocus, but the only thing your brain seems capable of processing at the moment is the feeling of Quinn’s leg against yours through your jeans. If it weren’t for Beau’s overly dramatic reaction, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed that your team had already lost.

You move to lean back against the couch - which was a mistake, considering now your shoulders are brushing too, and someone might as well have set your entire body on fire. Your head is starting to spin - must just be the shots catching up, you try to convince yourself - and you’ve drawn your lips into a thin line in an effort not to combust.

Brock lets out a laugh, clocking your expression. “Alright, no need to be such a sore loser, princess.”

You can feel Quinn turning to look at you, even if you’re desperately avoiding his eye contact. Beau is looking at you now too, eyes flickering over the way you and Quinn are pressed into each other’s sides. He grins, gears already turning in his head.

You hope your laugh sounds convincing. “Yeah, didn’t realise I’d get so into it, huh?”

“We’ll just have to have a rematch another time,” Beau reassures you, well aware losing wasn’t the reason why you looked so distressed. He fakes a look at the clock as you stand up from the couch, having decided you wouldn’t have survived much longer if you didn’t move.

“Well I guess it’s getting a bit late. I think we’re all pretty far gone at this point so everyone’s welcome to crash for the night if you want," Beau offers.

“Dude,” Quinn pipes up, “There’s no way you have enough space for all of us.”

“Well, lucky a certain someone just so happens to live not so far away!” Beau is already shepherding the two of you out of his apartment, still wearing the biggest grin on his face.

Before you can even begin to protest, you’ve already found yourself standing next to Quinn in the hallway. A beat passes, the two of you staring at the shut door incredulously before you finally catch Quinn’s eye, both unable to help the fit of giggles that escapes when you catch each other��s expressions.

In hindsight, you think this is the exact moment where you lose the ability to deny to yourself that you see him as just one of Beau’s friends. His eyes are a little glazed over from the alcohol, and his lips are flushed the prettiest pink to match his cheeks which are pulled into the widest smile you’ve seen him wear to date, and for the first time you notice exactly just how full his eyelashes are.

“I guess I do have a free couch,” you breathe out once you’ve both calmed down.

“No it’s fine really, I can just get an uber home, don’t worry about it,” Quinn argues, the slight awkwardness of the situation finally hitting him.

“Quinn, don’t be ridiculous. Your car’s still here, isn’t it? I literally live down the hallway,” you pause, “... like Beau said.”

He swallows, blinking at you for a good while. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure then.”

He waits for you to tell him that you’ve changed your mind, that actually the boyfriend you’ve never mentioned before wouldn’t like it if he stayed, or anything along those lines - something that would make the whole thing feel a little more believable, but instead, he just finds you looking at him. He doesn’t think he can handle that much longer without buckling at the knees, the way your eyes are searching his face, so he turns and starts walking down the hallway. He goes to ask what number your apartment is when he suddenly feels your soft hand slip into his.

You don’t know what it is. Maybe how nervous he suddenly seemed, maybe the way his hair looked perfectly dishevelled, or maybe in your intoxicated state you’d just finally decided to throw caution to the wind.

“I’m back this way, idiot,” you laugh at him before tugging him down the other way to your door.

Quinn is sure that his heart is thumping so loudly that you can hear it echoing through the silent hallway, or that you can somehow feel it where your fingers are laced through his but you’re being nice and saving him the embarrassment by not saying anything about it. He’s also hyper aware of how you didn’t drop his hand until you were both inside, even when you were rummaging in your pockets for your keys.

He glances around your apartment, following suit as he watches you kick off your sneakers. He’s overtly aware of the quietness compared to the chaos of just earlier, and the overwhelming sense of domesticity as he trails behind you into your home.

You watch him as he looks around, trying to find something to do in order to not get distracted staring at his nose. “Want some water?”

“Yeah actually, thanks,” he feels like he’s whispering, like if he speaks any louder you might realise that he is, actually, in fact, standing in your apartment and decide to kick him out.

He watches you reach on your toes to grab an extra glass from the cabinet and he finds himself endeared by it all - the way your shoes were lined up in the hallway, the sweater left draped over the couch, the lone mug left on your kitchen counter by your coffee machine.

He gestures at what he’s guessing is an open script left on the table next to an array of pens. “New project?”

“Yeah, I’m almost done reading through it,” you answer, “I won't be working on it for several months still, but I haven’t completely decided yet.”

“Is it shooting here as well?”

“Only bits of it. Looks like it’ll be mostly in LA though. And a couple other locations but it’ll be fun,” you shrug, handing him the glass.

“So you’re gonna do it?”

“Yeah, I think so. Script’s pretty good so far, and it’s an exciting team. Kind of like why not, you know?”

Quinn only manages to mutter out some sort of agreement. He’s surprised by his own disappointment at the idea that you could be moving out to LA, when in the grand scheme of things he’s only known you for about half a year. Thankfully, you interrupt him before he can think about it much more.

“Anyway, I’ll go get some blankets for you. Bathroom’s down that way, there’s extra toothbrushes in the first drawer.”

When he’s back, he almost crumples at the sight of you in your pjs setting up the couch for him. He notices you’ve refilled his glass before you turn around and shove a pile of clothes into his hands.

“Sweats for you, they should fit, I think,” you crinkle your nose. “My room’s down that way, just let me know if you need anything.”

He only manages to get out a small thanks in response. He’s staring at you, he knows that, but he can’t help how soft you look in the dim lighting.

You tilt your head, giving him a small smile. “Night, Quinn.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” he mumbles.

He makes a mental note to both punch Beau and then thank him in the morning.

+ 1

Nothing ever happened after that seemingly eventful night. It’s now well into the next season and you’re thinking that this is just what the dynamic of yours and Quinn’s friendship is like. You’ve gone back to trying to convince yourself that it’s normal - like you also think Beau’s good looking, right? You had a bit of a crush on him too when you first met him, even if that came and went awfully swiftly and you don’t get anything even close to the same kind of head spinning giddiness when he talks to you. Quinn thinks he’s been less subtle about it all, and you think you’ve been dropping hints but apparently your efforts have only been evident to everyone else but each other.

You know that the team has a gala coming up soon. Beau’s mentioned it to you a couple times in his attempt to gauge how you would feel if he forced Quinn to take you as his date. When he tells Quinn his master plan to finally get the two of you together, Quinn almost chokes on his own spit.

“Ask her as my date?! You’re kidding right?” he practically screeches.

“No.”

Quinn stammers, trying to formulate some kind of reply. “I don’t- We’re not- … I’m not doing that.”

Beau groans. “You guys are both such idiots, I’m sick of it. It’s so obvious that you like her and I don’t know how you can’t see that she’s head over heels for you too!”

Quinn only stares at him in response.

“Why won’t you just ask her? The world isn’t going to implode.”

There’s a good minute of silence, the two of them staring at each other waiting for someone to break. Quinn finally sighs, taking a seat on the couch.

“Isn’t she leaving for LA soon?”

“Are you being serious right now? Please tell me you’re not actually this stupid.”

Quinn blinks. “I don’t know. Vancouver and LA are pretty far apart.”

Beau is just about ready to physically knock some sense into him.

“You’re not even in Vancouver half the time anyway. Plus she’s not moving away forever. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

When Quinn doesn’t say anything in response, Beau doubles down.

“If you don’t ask her, I will for you. I’m not lying but you can test that out if you’d like.”

Beau doesn’t believe that Quinn will do anything, but he doesn’t give him much time to prove him wrong anyway. He’s calling you that evening.

“What are you doing Saturday night in two weeks time?”

“What? Nothing, I don’t think.”

“Okay, great. You’re coming to the gala as Quinn’s date then.”

“I’m what?!”

“You heard me.”

There’s a pause.

“Are you home right now?”

“Ye-”

You hang up on him before he can finish the syllable and you’re storming down the hallway until you’re banging on his door. He looks rather calm when he lets you in, but you don’t miss the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You point an accusing finger at him. “Explain it to me again. You want me to do what now?”

Beau rolls his eyes. “You’re free. Quinn’s free. Why not? It’s painfully obvious that you have this massive crush on him.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “No I don’t. And you’re asking me instead of him because?”

“Because he’s being an idiot, like he has been for almost an entire year now.” Beau looks at you and he can tell you could be convinced. “Just say yes. I’ll be there, the other guys will be there, there’ll be free food and drinks. Plus you’ll get to dress up! You’re always telling me you want to have an excuse to dress up yourself instead of other people!”

You can’t deny his last point. Literally just the other week, you’d sent him a link of this drop dead gorgeous dress you’d found whilst sourcing for your next project and complained to him about how you wanted to get it for yourself but had nowhere to wear it to.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. Just say you’ll come as his date. That’s it.”

You pause. Beau finds himself in his second stalemate of the day, but he knows you’re going to give in more easily. He listens to the tick of the clock in his living room, patiently waiting for you to cave.

“Fine.”

You don’t give him a chance to properly react before you’ve flung open his door, marched back to your own apartment and screamed into your pillow about what you’ve said yes to.

Beau should’ve known you were going to be insufferable leading up to the actual night. You spend the entirety of the next week pestering him about what the dress code is, how you have nothing to wear, what to expect, who else is going to be there. He gives you the same answers every time you ask and he promises to go dress shopping with you on Thursday. You’re only the slightest bit more relieved at this, but as soon as you agree, Beau’s texting Quinn that he has about a week to deliver.

Quinn had called you as soon as he saw Beau’s message, apologising and saying that he wished Beau had given him a little more warning so he could have asked you himself (he knows he wouldn’t have) and telling you that you don’t have to go if you didn’t want to. You were barely done freaking out about it yourself, but the way he sounded so completely flustered about it all through the phone was somewhat reassuring.

When you make your way up the stairs to your apartment on Wednesday evening, you find yourself actually excited to go pick out a dress the next day. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t pulled together some inspiration images, but in your defence, you were just good at your job. Your steps falter a little when you notice a package at your door, but as you get closer, you notice there’s a post-it note over it.

Been a minute since our mail got confused again :)

– Beau

You’re confused because you don’t remember ordering anything, but it’s definitely been addressed to you. You head inside to open it, brows furrowing when you start to recognise the fabric. Needless to say, your jaw is definitely on the floor when you pull out the same dress that you had sent Beau not too long ago. You’re scrambling to grab your phone to yell at him when you remember they’re currently playing a game at the moment, so you settle for a borderline blasphemous string of texts instead.

Hours later, when you’re still reeling, you get one single message in response.

Beau: Wasn’t me. Was all huggy :)

It feels like the last days left until the gala had gone all too quick yet also taken way too long. You felt like you’d been pulling your hair out about it nonstop, and it didn’t help that the guys had gone away on a roadie in between.

You’d started getting ready way too early. You couldn’t do up the clasp of your necklace since you weren’t used to having your nails done, leaving you too much time to start wondering if you’d maybe gone a little overboard with it all. You’d been pacing around your apartment for the past half hour trying to occupy your hands with something else instead, waiting for a more appropriate time to get changed. You think you must look like a deranged housewife, washing your dishes and folding your laundry with a full face of makeup and maybe too much diligence.

You’re so caught up in distracting yourself that the buzzer ringing makes you jump.

“Hey, come on up. I’ll unlock the door, I’ve just got to get changed,” you say over the intercom.

You run back to your room to pull on the dress you’d been fawning over for weeks, still not entirely sure how either Quinn or Beau had managed to work out the right size for you. You hear the door being opened and Quinn calling out your name just as you’re spraying your perfume.

“In my room!” You yell back, “One sec!”

When he rounds the corner and lays eyes on you, Quinn’s certain he’s turned completely into putty. He’s never seen you so dressed up and you look so breathtakingly stunning that he almost drops the bouquet in his hands.

You’re equally breathless when you turn around to face him. You didn’t realise that he’d gotten a tie to match, and you wouldn’t know that he’d dragged Petey to help him pick a new suit in an attempt to impress you. You’re both staring at each other for what feels like forever before either of you can manage a word.

“Um, hi,” he breathes, barely audible, “You look- you look really beautiful.”

You can’t hide the blush that’s creeping up your neck, but you don’t try to anyway considering his cheeks have gone a rosy shade to match.

“Thanks, Quinn. You look really good too.” You don’t notice how he flushes even deeper because you’ve finally noticed the flowers he’s holding, and even more so, how there’s not a single rose in the bunch. “Are those…?”

Quinn suddenly feels embarrassed about the fact he got you flowers. “Yeah, I um, I got- they’re for you.” He feels like a school boy all over again, mentally kicking himself for not being able to get a proper sentence out. He looks down at the stems, rubbing at his stubble. “Did I overdo it?”

You laugh, you’d been fidgeting with your nails the entire time.

“No, I think it’s really sweet.” You take the flowers from him, laying them down on your vanity when you remember your necklace.

“Oh, can you help me with this? I can’t seem to get the clasp.” You hand him the chain and turn, moving your hair out of the way.

You can smell the waft of his cologne and feel his focus on the back of your neck, suddenly incredibly aware of how close you’re standing. Your mouth has dried, you're pretty sure your ears are ringing and you think you’re fully frozen in your spot.

“There,” Quinn mumbles, barely even able to get the word past the lump in his throat. He’s still thinking about how unreal you look and fighting the overwhelming urge to spin you around and kiss you right then and there.

You’re both snapped out of the moment when his phone starts ringing. It’s Beau, asking what time you guys are going to arrive.

“Yeah, we’re just about to leave. See you soon, dude.” Quinn answers, turning his attention back to you. “Ready to go?”

On the way there, you’ve somehow recomposed yourself to manage a somewhat normal conversation. You’re not sure exactly what it is that sent your nerves into haywire in the first place. The fact that you’re so done up, that you’re technically his date, or the fact that he seems just as antsy as you. He tells you he’s a little nervous about the speech he has to make, so you squeeze his hand in reassurance and try to reel your nerves in for both of you.

It’s a lot easier when you get there and see everyone else. You’re reminded that they’re your friends and that this is just another time you get to hang out, even if it’s a lot more fancy and official than what you’re used to. But when you finally go to take your seats after doing your initial rounds of mingling, you still manage to somehow knock your fork to the floor. You bend over to pick it up and you don’t realise Quinn’s covered the edge of the table with his hand until you bump your head into it. Before you can even say anything or just thank him for it, he’s offering to swap forks with you.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” you laugh a little breathlessly, “Five second rule, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, but he’s already replaced the fork next to your plate with his anyway.

Brock and Petey have watched the whole exchange and share knowing smirks from across the table.

Everything else seems to go smoothly. Maybe it’s the soft touches on his arm or on your back, the blushing smiles and longing glances across the room, but something about tonight feels like tomorrow you won’t be able to pretend nothing happened.

Quinn’s speech goes well, and now everyone is up and moving around again. You hang back and let the long line of teammates and attendees go to congratulate him first.

Beau approaches Quinn, interrupting his train of thought.

“Now that the business part is done, you gonna finally make a move or what?”

Quinn’s eyes almost pop out of his head at the idea of this and also the volume at which Beau is speaking.

“Shut up,” he hisses, “She’ll hear you!”

“Doesn’t matter - she’s going to notice anyway with how hard you’ve been staring all night!”

“No I haven’t,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah ok, sure buddy. Just- no time like the present!” Beau claps him on the back and leaves Quinn to shift his gaze back to you. He’s starting to get lost in how at ease you look, talking to some of the other wives, when he realises Beau is right and you’ve caught him staring.

You make your way to him, prodding him gently in the shoulder.

“Told ya you didn’t need to be so worried.”

He’s blushing again. He can’t seem to get a handle on the effect you have on him.

“Yeah, it went alright, I guess. Made it out alive.”

“Well I, for one, think you spoke really well.” There’s a slight teasing in your voice, but you hope he can tell you mean it.

Quinn finds himself lost for words in front of you for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He’s scanning your face and tries not to think too hard before he opens his mouth again.

“Can I kiss y-”

“Please.”

His hands are quick to find your waist and pull you closer as your hands find a place against his chest. The kiss is quick and rushed and almost all teeth from how big you’re both smiling, but you don’t mind it. You feel like the ground’s been pulled out from under you in one fell swoop and you’re free falling but somehow it feels like exactly what you needed.

When you pull away, Quinn’s wearing the goofiest lopsided grin you’ve ever seen and you can only imagine that you look the same.

“I, uh-”

“You’ve got lip gloss on you.”

You’re both giggling as he swipes over his lips with his thumb.

You’re so lost in him that you almost don’t register all the hollering and clapping from your table. Usually you would hate the idea of so many eyes watching you, but it all feels like such a long time coming that you can’t seem to be even remotely embarrassed about any of it.

#a result of the freak behaviour quinn has been displaying as of late... like sorry i am just a Girl #actually he did all that and then i turned around and wrote over 6.5k about him so . whats more freakish im not sure anymore #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes blurb #📝

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shuacore · 3 months

Text

barcelona nights

reader (afab) x lsm — 6.9K summary: "The music is all but static in the background, and for a moment it’s just the two of you again, drinking in the airless summer night and the sounds of other couples enjoying each other’s company. You run your thumb across Seokmin’s bottom lip, completely enraptured. His eyes are dangerously dark." —a/n: a fun little birthday present for my bffl ang <3 tags: swearing, smut (18+), probably too much plot n not enough smut, not completely proofread i’m so sorry, mentions of alcohol??, emotional and physical intimacy are my kryptonite, additional warnings under the cut

additional warnings: unprotected sex (always be safe pls!!), oral (f receiving), pet names (princess, baby, angel, etc), not very adventurous but i would do anything with him tbh

playlist 4 the vibes!!! wyoming — elijah fox a quick getaway — stephen rennicks spring 1 — max richter, antonio vivaldi puerto claridad — amparanoia bamboleo — gypsy kings since i don’t have you — the skyliners the sun is in your eyes — jacob collier tell me — groove theory

Sweat drips down the bridge of your nose as the precarious stack of books in your hands threatens to wobble. Please, for the love of God, don’t fall. The summer heat is brutal—hot and humid—and it sucks all of the energy out of you as you shuffle to the library. It had been a difficult week of research and you were finally returning your books, ready to throw them and the stress from working so hard away. A bead of sweat lingers on your brow, slipping onto your eyelid and you blink furiously, praying it stays there until you can set your burden down.

In your fervor, you walk a bit too close to the curb, your toes slipping off the edge—you feel the stack slip dangerously, and you curse out loud as you realize you’re falling, desperately clutching your books to your chest, the pavement below approaching a bit too fast when—

A hand clamps around your wrist, hauling you out of the street just as a car zooms past, ruffling your hair.

“Careful!” a male voice says, breathless. And when you get a good look at your savior, it feels like you’ve been rocketed into one of the dramas you and your roommates obsessed over.

His name is Lee Seokmin, he’s 25, an anthropology major, and he is the most handsome and charming man you have ever seen. He picks you up off the street, flashes you the most blinding smile, and then your mind goes blank. The rest is history.

So it’s no surprise to you after three years when he still asks questions like, “Do you remember when we met?” You resist the urge to scoff fondly. Always so sentimental.

It’s a warm summer evening as you sit on the plaza, observing the night life of a quiet coastal Spanish town you had come across during the day. You pause the furious digging in your purse—for something which you had forgotten some time ago—to look at your partner, whose eyes are glazed over in dreamy contentment.

“Really?” you ask, tampering down the amused look of disbelief that fights its way across your face. Seokmin hates being teased unless he initiates, even if it’s all in good fun.

“No, I’m serious,” he says, in unwavering sincerity, head lolling against the back of the bistro chair as he watches you unabashedly. Even after so many years, Seokmin’s eyes still set your skin on fire, and he looks so picturesque like this, just a little bit undone from the day’s toils and a few glasses of wine down the line. The collar of his shirt is open a few buttons down, exposing a swatch of buttery smooth skin that—after the drinks you’ve had—makes your mouth water. He looks like the last burst of fading sunlight before nightfall.

You shake your head with a small smile. “You’re ridiculous. Of course I do.”

Seokmin opens his mouth to say something else when his nostalgic reverie is interrupted by the waiter, who asks quietly if the two of you would like anything else. Your fiancé orders two more glasses of wine for the both of you, and thanks the waiter again as he finally takes the menus from your table.

It’s quieter now. The night is beginning to dwindle down, your bellies full of good food and wine, and in the distance the ocean waves wash across the rocky shores, pulling pebbles out to sea with quiet shushing sounds. The air is salty on your tongue, and you know you probably look a mess, especially after the long day of heat and humidity, but Seokmin watches you with shining eyes like you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You blush sheepishly, fingers finally finding your lipstick in the bottom of your bag.

“What?” you hiss without malice as Seokmin studies you. His cheeks are flushed, eyes shining even against the slowly dimming night light, and if you could commit an image to memory, if would be right here, right now, sitting at this table with him. Your stomach twists and you’re not sure if it’s a twinge of pain or an all-engulfing rush of affection, so instead you offer him another shy smile and replace your bag on the ground.

He shakes his head, more to himself, and says, “You’ll make fun of me.”

“Sure.”

“You’re just so radiant. All the time.”

You suck in a breath, cheeks burning and laugh nervously. Seokmin was an all-or-nothing kind of guy, which meant you got all of his affection, all the time. It was overwhelming in the beginning, seeing how devoted he could be to one person, but you had grown accustomed to the quiet deference in which he did everything for you. Compliments were near holy to him. Nothing was more intimate than your name. His actions always spoke louder than words. For a while you had been resistant to it—like you would never quite deserve all the love he had to give—but Seokmin had a way of worming his way into your heart and lodging there until his smile was the only thing you could think of when you woke up.

The waiter appears with two glasses in hand, asks once more if you need anything, before floating away again. You lift the glass—it’s a deep crimson and smells faintly sweet—and swirl the stem around in your fingers, watching the wine coat the sides of the glass with mesmerizing smoothness.

Seokmin lifts his glass and murmurs a toast. You say it back, and the glasses hit each other with a soft ding! His eyes glint at you over the rim as he takes a sip. The wine is velvet on your tongue, rich and full-bodied, and it sends a flurry of warmth down your throat.

You hum in appreciation and set the glass down on the table. Above, the stars blink into existence, mimicking the lights flickering to life around the plaza. They wash the patio in a lovely yellow glow, throwing Seokmin into soft relief. He looks a little out of it, pretty lips parted in hazy awe of the scenery around him. It’s still humid, but not too warm—just cool enough that it’s hard to tell where your body ends and the rest of the world begins. A moped passes by, its headlights bouncing off the stone walls of the buildings around you. The chatter from other cafe-goers could be white noise in the trees. In the background the sounds of sultry guitar float through the air, soaking into your skin and you sigh deeply, stretching your arms high into the air above you. It lulls you into a serene sense of calm and you close your eyes—just for a moment.

Then—“Hey, dance with me,” you hear, whispered by lips pressed to your ear, and you open your eyes slowly to see Seokmin crouched next to your chair, his hand extended in offering. He looks so lovely here, so unguarded and pleased, the same overwhelming feeling of adoration—so strong it overflows into your throat—is difficult to choke back down. You take another hearty swig of wine, feeling it sink into your stomach and turn your legs to jelly. It activates the fuzzy feeling sitting dormant in your body, lifting you out of your chair and into the plaza center with other couples swaying slowly to the music emanating across the square. It all feels so horribly cinematic you’re having difficulty believing any of it’s real.

You inhale sharply as Seokmin pulls you close to him, your bodies snapping together like magnets. His skin is sticky and warm from the summer heat as his hands brush over your ribcage and come to rest on your waist, coaxing you into a sensual rhythm of swaying hips and chests rising and falling in tandem. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you tight to his body. The wine keeps you limber—which is nice because otherwise you’d be two left feet with out it.

Seokmin tips his head to rest his sticky forehead against yours, eyes dancing with mirth in the evening light. His fingers press into the small of your back, searing through the gauzy fabric of your blouse, igniting a slow burn that sweeps through your whole body. You sigh deeply as your eyes flutter closed, taking in the sounds of soft timbales and claves bouncing off the stone under your feet, the heat from Seokmin’s body on yours, and his lips pressed against your skin, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear.

It’s sexy, to say the least. The laughter and conversations around you vanish until all you know is the sound of Seokmin’s breath ragged in your ear and hot on your cheek. He smells like rosemary and mint and the soap from the hostel. His lips dip dangerously low on your cheek until they brush over the skin under your jaw, sending a chill down your spine despite the heat. Seokmin smiles against your temple as your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt, skirting low over the smooth expanse of his stomach. He hums into your ear—a warning—as your fingertips trail just a little higher. But you’re still in public, so you pull back just enough to smile coyly at him and smooth the hem of his shirt back down.

The music is intoxicating, the melody swelling and swaddling you in a heady daydream of nothing but Seokmin. You tuck your nose into his shoulder, inhaling deeply as his fingers dance up your spine and land lightly on the back of your neck.

“God, I love you,” he confesses, and his laughter is swallowed by your lips suddenly on his, giddy and girlish. It’s just supposed to be an innocent peck—just a quick one you could share in public—but with the wine having gone completely to your head, the music reverberating in your chest, and Seokmin’s tongue in your mouth, it’s difficult to concentrate. Seokmin tastes like the Albariño you ordered, like lemon and nectarine, and so, so sweet your knees turn to liquid. He hums in content as a soft sigh escapes your mouth, unprompted. His hands are firm on your hips, fingers lacing through the belt loops of your skirt to pull you closer. You tangle your own in the damp strands at the nape of his neck, relishing the own sounds you can persuade from your partner’s throat.

Someone catcalls in the background and you come to with a start. Seokmin’s face is rosy—from the wine or from you, it’s hard to tell—but he’s well past the point of having the grace to look embarrassed. His eyes are glued to you, drinking you in completely. You grin, hiding your face in his chest. The music is all but static in the background, and for a moment it’s just the two of you again, drinking in the airless summer night and the sounds of other couples enjoying each other’s company. You run your thumb across Seokmin’s bottom lip, completely enraptured. His eyes are dangerously dark.

“Go back to the hotel?” you whisper, mouth hovering mere centimeters away from his.

Seokmin’s next kiss is indication enough. Grabbing your purse, he throws a few bills onto the bistro table before tugging you away from the plaza. Street signs bleed into flights of rickety stairs and cobblestone alleyways into flowered medians and quiet side roads. The ocean roars in greeting as you run unsteadily back to your hotel. Street lamps blaze into life amid loud shouts of laughter from nearby pedestrians, and the fluttery feeling in your stomach only grows. The only thing that stays constant is the feeling of Seokmin’s hand in yours, firm and reassuring.

Then, unprompted, Seokmin tugs you into a hidden alcove off the street, and presses you hard against the brick wall, tilting your jaw up with his thumbs to pull you into a searing kiss. He draws in a sharp breath, groaning softly into your mouth as you sag into his touch. You feel like a teenager again, sneaking off the beaten path so you can put your hands all over each other. Seokmin is impatient—his hands dig into your hips, his mouth is on your jaw, and his body is so hot it’s any wonder he hasn’t yet burst into flames.

“Seokmin,” you gasp, nails digging into his chest, breaking away. His excitement is palpable. He groans, irritated, and tips his forehead against your cheek, still holding you tight to him like you might still slip through his fingers. You extract yourself from his grasp, a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen and pull him away from the wall amidst protests. The privacy of your hotel room can’t arrive fast enough and it feels like eons before you’re pushing Seokmin against the back of the door yourself—so hard the air is knocked from his lungs—but he grins breathlessly as he draws you close, hip to hip, chest to chest, mouth to mouth.

You breath him in, smelling the lingering traces of cigarette smoke and lavender from the night markets on his clothes. Seokmin is all teeth and all tongue, hands traveling up and down the curve of your waist, over your ass, up your forearms and shoulders. His thumb tugs on your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open as he slips his tongue in once more. You dissolve in his hands like water—you’ve always been so pliant with him, so eager to please it goes straight to his head.

“Tell me what you want,” he mumbles, hand holding your jaw in place. His eyes are asking for a challenge.

But you feel needy and slightly hysterical that it’s all you can do to say weakly, “You.”

Seokmin’s breath is hot in your mouth and you have no choice but to ride the wave. This is Seokmin’s all-or-nothing, as he drags your thin linen blouse off your shoulders, popping the top button clean off amid breathless laughter so he can press more open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and collarbone. You sigh deeply, winding your fingers into the hair at the back of his head again, chasing his lips with potent desperation. Seokmin grins, canines glinting wolfishly in the moonlight. It’s difficult to see in the burgeoning darkness—nothing but vague shadows dancing on the walls—so you kick off your shoes haphazardly, stumbling until your knees eventually strike the edge of the bed. You hit the mattress with a huff!, Seokmin in tow. His hand is hot against your bare skin, palm pressed flat to your chest where your heart races.

“This is your fault, by the way,” you tease, and Seokmin feigns sympathy, except his fingers are little too far up your thigh for the sympathy to land. You suck in a breath, eyes burning as Seokmin gazes at you with undisguised want, eyes flicking around your face in a dizzying pattern—eyes, lips, cheeks, forehead, nose, eyes, lips—like it was the first time he’d ever seen you. The air grows thicker like mud, sticking in your nose and throat and you struggle to swallow, pushing yourself off the bed.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Seokmin asks, voice laced with worry. His figure is clothed in deep blue shadow in the imminent darkness. Air is sparse, and anxiety flares in your stomach, unexpected, and you press a hand to your racing heart, willing it to slow. Your pulse is erratic and you realize you’re nervous.

“Woah, talk to me,” Seokmin pleads again, sitting up. His fingers around your wrist are soft, like all of him, and it eases the sudden ache in your chest, even if just a little. You place your other hand on top of his, stroking your thumb over his knuckles.

Your voice is hoarse. “Just nervous. I don’t know why—it’s so silly.”

And then Seokmin is there, tucking you into his arms and his nose in your hair, swaying as he holds you for a moment.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. You know that.”

You frown, pushing away from his chest. “No–no, I want this. Just–had a moment, but I’m ok.” You lean your forehead on his shoulder again. “I’m always ok when I’m with you.” The quiet presses in on your ears. The incessant buzzing in your fingertips fades to the background, slowing to the steady rhythm of Seokmin’s heartbeat in his chest—reliable as always, a constant you had come to memorize like the spots on his face.

“I’m right here, baby,” he whispers against your temple. “Whatever you want.”

The soft glow from the street lamps outside illuminate his features in a tranquil yellow hue. He looks angelic, always so gentle and willing, that it sucks the remaining air out of your lungs.

He settles back on the edge of bed, hands resting on your hips as he gazes up at you with adoration so tangible it makes your heart ache. You run your fingers gently through his hair, pushing the dark strands off his forehead and trace the shape of his profile with your pointer finger, down his forehead and the bridge of his nose, pausing over his waiting lips, down his chin until you grasp it in between your thumb and forefinger.

“You’re beautiful, too, you know?” you say, voice soft. And Seokmin smiles, pleased, and it lights up his whole face, sending a bolt of warmth down your throat like lightning. The crashing waves of the ocean are muffled under the sound of your heart in your ears. Seokmin is quiet, arms tight around your waist. Had it not been for the pulsing rhythm in your body, this might have been a tender moment—but the heat is still there, prodding in your stomach, building, smoldering, aching.

You want him. Bad.

With a noise of impatience, you pull his face back towards yours, curving your body to pull him in, kissing him longingly, hoping he’ll sense the desperation growing in your stomach, understand the way you need to feel him under and over and inside you. Seokmin reads you like the back of his hand—senses the tension in your shoulders—and knows that if he uses his mouth just right your last remaining shred of self-control will snap.

He pulls at the rest of the buttons on your blouse with agonizing restraint, kissing every inch of skin revealed with painstaking deference. His mouth trails down your sternum, pausing as he listens to the quiet exhales that leave your mouth. The skin on your stomach is sensitive to his touch, and you bite back a few nervous giggles as Seokmin ghosts his lips just down to where the waistband of your skirt rests on your hips. His thumbs dig into the skin there, and he peers up at you, eyes sparkling mischievously. Asking for permission. You nod, breath shallow in your throat.

“Should be on my knees for a princess,” your fiancé murmurs lowly, dropping to his knees in front of you. What had been a steady flame in your gut erupts into a hunger so strong it might consume you from the inside out. Your mouth goes dry as he gentle pulls you down to the mattress, urging you to sit.

In the same tender manner, Seokmin lifts the sole of your foot to his lips, eyes darkening as your breath quickens yet. His breath fans across your bare skin, up your ankles and your shin, before he pauses to press a hot kiss to the inside of your knee, teeth digging into the soft skin there. The static in your ears increases tenfold as his other hand pushes the hem of your skirt up to your waist. Seokmin’s mouth continues upward, stopping on the supple skin of the inside of your thighs. Hunger gnaws at your insides by now, and you tense your stomach in anticipation. Seokmin’s pupils are blown wide—impossibly dark as he takes you in—forcing you backwards, his mouth hovering just over the fabric in between you and complete bareness. Your breath quickens—waiting, waiting, waiting—as Seokmin’s tongue trails from the inside of your knee right to where your thigh pools at your hip.

And then, with a dazed smirk, he sets your foot down—not on the floor—but gently over the bulge in his pants. Seokmin leans forward ever so slightly, eyes daring. Already he’s so hard, even under his trousers and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from falling apart right there.

“See what you do to me?” he rasps, breath hitching as you press your foot down—just a little—to feel him so vulnerable under you. Your panties are soaked by now—it feels like you’re wearing nothing at all. Seeing Seokmin like this, shirt unbuttoned to his stomach, hair still styled so nicely, lips parted with desire; you want him like this, now, all the time.

“Seokmin–fuck–” you choke, the words ripped from your mouth as you feel his tongue, wet and hot over your panties. Seokmin tosses one of your feet over his shoulder as he wraps his fingers in the waistband, pulling your panties taut. The ability to control yourself is lost. You curve into his touch as Seokmin gently pulls your panties aside, and presses one last reverent kiss to the inside of your hip.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, breath fanning across your skin, “always so beautiful for me.” Then his mouth is on you, open-mouthed and scorching on your cunt, the tip of his tongue circling around your clit, tasting every part of you. You clench your fists into the sheets, gasping for air as he wraps his strong arms around your thighs to pin you down. Even still, you squirm away from his mouth, hands pushing at his head as he sends you to cloud nine. His eyes are searing even behind closed eyelids as he drinks your pleasure, watching in rapture.

Seokmin’s voice is almost inaudible over the thrum of your heart in your ears. “You like the way I worship you, baby?”

“Yes, please, yes, oh my god, Seokmin, please,” you plead, lurching upwards to curl around his head as a particularly powerful bolt of pleasure rushes through your body. He’s ruthless, nails biting into your thighs as you writhe in pleasure, nose bumping against your clit, mouth planted firmly on your pussy as your cries become higher and more desperate. It builds and builds and builds, a rope in your gut stretching and pulling until you feel like you might snap in half. The pleasure mounts as Seokmin crudely licks his tongue up your cunt, pressed flat against your skin and you release a strangled groan, fingers knotting in his hair.

“S–Seokmin, I’m—” you gasp, body tensed in anticipation.

And then he leans back, and your release fades as quickly as it appeared. Your body aches uncomfortably. The mattress sinks down on either side of you as he braces his hands by your head. Seokmin grins, tucking a few pieces of hair gently behind your ear, dragging your mouth open with his thumb once more to push his tongue past your lips. He tastes like you and he moans as you pull him in by the back of his neck, kissing him fiercely.

“You’re a dick,” you protest, shoving his shoulder. Seokmin’s smile is tender, his cheeks flushed despite his actions just moments ago.

“Hey,” he says in between kisses to your collarbone that stifle the feeble protests spewing from your mouth, “I don’t wanna go too fast.”

You groan weakly, as he shifts his knee in between your thighs. He wraps his fingers around one of your ankles, lifting it up onto his hip.

“But I wanna feel you,” you complain, looping your arms around his neck as if to urge him on. But Seokmin just shakes his head, grinning. His leg shifts again, pressing against the ache in between your thighs and you instinctively roll your hips, mouth dropping open at the touch. He places a large hand on your pelvis, pinning you to the bed.

“I’m taking my time with you,” he says against your mouth, smiling as you sag onto the bed.

He wanted to fuck slow.

And he does, touching you with feather-light pressure, building your frustration and anticipation until you’re a sweating, panting, desperate disaster in his hands—and only then does Seokmin let you feverishly remove the rest of his clothes. The desire to feel him, see him, taste him has grown so vicious you might cry. He perches on the edge of the bed again, and with shaking hands you jerk the rest of his shirt off his broad shoulders, scraping your nails down his chest to the belt at his waist. You’ve always loved Seokmin’s body—its strong, lithe build, all toned and smooth. Seokmin curses under his breath, tossing his head back in pleasure as you kiss along his jaw and down his torso. The muscles in his stomach tense under your touch, pulled taut as your lips reach his hips again. Slowly, you undo the button on his trousers, all the while keeping burning eye contact. You want Seokmin to see how much you need him.

“Let me touch you,” you whisper against his abdomen, waiting for the desperate nod, before your fingers slip under the waistband of his briefs to finally take him in your hand. Seokmin moans low and you moan with him, imagining when he would finally let you take him, how he would stretch you out, and you’d finally feel all of him.

You pull your hand back to spit, making sure to keep your eyes on him as you do, before wrapping your fingers around his length again. Seokmin’s voice is choked in his throat as you run your hand up and down his entire shaft, taking care to twist your fist around the base of his cock, delicately trailing up and around the head, soaking up every breathy sound of satisfaction that leaves Seokmin’s lips.

With palpable restlessness, you yank the rest of Seokmin’s clothes off, straddling him on the edge of the bed again. He feels the damp fabric of your panties against his thigh and groans, his fingers knitting into your hair to kiss you again, feverish and wanting. You grind down, feeling his cock hard against your pussy and laugh weakly—except it sticks in your throat as Seokmin’s nails dig into your hip, dragging your cunt down his length again.

“You want me so bad, don’t you?” Seokmin goads, hand holding the back of your head as you roll your hips up and down his length with increasing desperation. Your nails dig into his chest. He pulls your panties to the side, eyes fluttering closed as your arousal slides over his skin. The heat of the room muddles your brain, heightening every sensation. You’re already so wet, needy and willing to do anything to make the tightness in your stomach go away. “Want me to fuck you, baby?”

“Please–” you beg, “need you. Seokmin–”

His lips are crushing, destroying any semblance of thought you might have had.

“Go ahead, princess,” Seokmin groans, as you pull your panties to the side, sliding two fingers into yourself and using your arousal to lubricate his cock again. The weight of Seokmin’s cock in your hand, the sound of your fingers sliding down the length is enough to have you weak in the knees. Seokmin’s hands splay across your back, propping you up as you line up his cock with your entrance.

Your fiancé has always been a romantic, and this time is no different as Seokmin kisses you, open mouth waiting to breathe in your needy moans as you slowly sink down onto his cock. In your agitation, it’s still tight, extracting a few hisses of discomfort out of you. But Seokmin is there, soothing you with quiet shushes against your lips, thumbs stroking your cheeks as you take him all the way. He stretches you out, nice and slow, drawing the air from your lungs.

There you go, that’s my girl. You’re doing so well, baby.

His praise rolls over you like late afternoon sunlight, settling in your chest until you feel lightheaded—the love in your chest is too much to take. It feels more intimate than usual, being nose to nose with Seokmin like this, seeing every emotion flicker in his eyes, feeling his breath fan over your face as he pants. You comb your fingers through his hair and cup his face in your hands, as the fluttery, panicky desperation for a hold on reality reappears in your chest again. You gasp as Seokmin shifts farther onto the bed, nails biting into his scalp as he pulls you closer.

He can surely feel the supersonic pace of your heart against his chest and he shushes you gently, pressing his lips against your sternum.

“I–I just need you to relax, sweetheart,” you hear him murmur in your daze, hands running up and down your spine. “Just a little more.”

You nod, eyes squeezes shut as you try to swallow the trepidation in your stomach. Seokmin takes it all with grace; his voice is like honey in your ear, sticky and sweet, whispering soft reassurances. Seokmin’s love can be so strong—even after all this time—that it overwhelms you, leaving you vulnerable and defenseless. You’re not used to the devotion that even now, it sometimes takes a little to get used to, so you tuck your nose in the crook of his neck. The smell of sunshine still sticks to his skin, like a moth to a flame.

“Baby, are you still with me?” Seokmin asks, forefinger petting your cheek. “Hm?”

You nod wordlessly, breathing deeply while Seokmin watches, attentive, until you’ve finally taken all of him. Seokmin bottoms out with a strangled groan, and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, chest stuttering as you roll your hips with impatience. Even then, it’s still too much right away and you freeze, gasping for breath.

“Hey,” Seokmin says, holding your face in his hands, “we have all night. Take it slow.”

“I know I just—ah–” you whine, stubborn, as you roll your hips again—ignoring the vague hesitancy in your stomach—this time relishing in the dull ache in between your legs, feeling the stretch and pull as Seokmin coaxes your hips into a lazy rhythm. He watches closely, mapping out your body with his hands, leaving you out of breath and hazy in the head. You throw your head back as he kisses your exposed throat, mouth hot over your skin.

Seokmin rests his hand at the base of your throat—not quite squeezing—and leaves it there. The possessive glint in his eyes is enough to say you are mine. Mine. The thought alone is enough to have you falling into his touch.

Mine.

He slips the other hand lower, using his thumb to rub circles around your clit, persuading languorous moans from your mouth, watching you with sordid fascination as you respond to his every touch. You brace your hand on his knee, brow furrowing as the pleasure in your core molds into shape. It’s hot and heavy, radiating so strongly it makes your arm shake.

“Just like–that,” you whine, nails digging into Seokmin’s thigh as he fucks into you slow, gripping your ass so hard you know it’ll leave marks. He curses as you clench around his cock, urging him to go faster. But Seokmin is, and always has been, more patient than you, and he grins slowly, even through heavy-lidded eyes clouded with lust, gripping your hips tight enough to still your movement.

“What did I say?” he challenges, lips hovering millimeters over yours. You frown, protests falling on deaf ears, as he leans in closer. His lips brush yours as he whispers, “Go. Slow.”

So you try, rolling your hips, grinding down on his cock until you think you might die, until your restlessness is as tangible as the arousal dripping onto Seokmin’s thighs. He fluctuates between playing with your clit–just until you’re on the verge of release—and waiting, just long enough to keep the buzz in your body at bay. Your knees ache as you hold yourself up, feeling Seokmin’s cock slide and and out, his hands in your hair and on your ass. He edges you, daring you to come first each time you whimper you’re close, waiting until the shaking in your fingers stops just for him to continue.

You’ve never been a crier, but after twenty minutes of this, you’re certain that even a slight breeze would cause you to come undone. Seokmin’s cock rests deep inside to the hilt, his mouth is on your skin, and you know that if he moves, you’ll come harder than you ever have before.

“Baby, please,” you beg, hips jerking at every slight movement, “please–”

Seokmin smiles, and even just the sight of his pretty teeth have the tears you’ve been holding back, rolling down your cheeks like two big fat admissions of defeat. You suck in a breath as Seokmin lifts you off his cock, dropping you onto your back on the mattress. He places one of your ankles over his shoulder, pressing you down by the back of your thigh as you toss the other around his waist.

The sounds coming from your mouth are less than human as Seokmin runs his fingers through your arousal again, placating your whines with his lips. You feel like you’re about to snap.

“Seokmin, fuck me.” It sounds so ridiculous coming from your mouth you think you might cry again, but the thought is shoved away as Seokmin slaps his cock against your needy cunt a few times, pulling more animalistic cries from your throat.

“Soon, pet,” he grins, and then his cock is pushing into you again, his fingers on your clit, his eyes dark and earnest as your whole body tenses in his arms.

Your nails claw into his skin and he hisses, brow furrowed, as you drag them down his back with uncharacteristic force, but the thought of his beautiful back marked by your torment only feeds the fire in your belly. You arch your spine, pressing into him as Seokmin draws his cock back out, still much slower than you would like. He’s just winding you up at this point, seeing just how far you’re breaking point is.

Seokmin tuts, simpering as you pant deliriously under him. He leans down, brushing his lips over your cheekbone to rest his forehead against yours. You groan impatiently.

“Patience, lamb,” Seokmin urges, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, and you frown like a petulant child. Your protests are quickly silenced as he moves, pushing into you with little urgency, pulling back out with agonizing slowness, relishing in the tiny sounds escaping your tightly clamped lips. His strokes are languid as he holds you close to his body. Sometimes it feels like a challenge, to see how long you can go without indulging Seokmin, but today every sensation is amplified tenfold—the smell of his hair, the feeling of his skin, his fingers on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock deep inside. He holds your head in between his hands, petting your hair when you tense, whispering sweet words against your skin.

“Look at me, baby,” Seokmin murmurs, brushing the hair off your forehead. Your pry your eyes open, resisting every impulse to squeeze them shut again as Seokmin pushes into you again, this time with more heat, feeling the burn in his own body increase as you brace yourself against his shoulders. His strokes are long and deep, barely a second apart before he drives back into you to the hilt, swimming in the crude sounds of skin against skin. A chorus of moans fills the room as Seokmin finally fucks you into subspace, your head going foggy with pleasure. The sounds leaving your mouth are barely coherent—just a messy jumble of garbled syllables. Seokmin is unrelenting. His stomach is tense with the effort it takes to keep up his pace. You’ve all but given up on keeping your eyes open, instead falling openly into the pleasure that builds in your gut again.

Good girl. Just a little more, I promise. Look at you, so beautiful like this. Just like that.

Good girl.

My girl.

You want to hold on. You want to hold on as long as possible. But Seokmin’s praise washes over you like the tide, saccharine and familiar, so you come again and again, feeling insurmountable pleasure pulse through your body—white-hot and blinding—so intense it leaves you breathless and weak, as Seokmin’s voice continues to flit in and out of focus.

“God!” you plead, as an orgasm so powerful it rips your voice from your throat tears through you. Your nails bite crescents into your fiancé’s shoulders, and you jolt upward to kiss Seokmin feverishly, fingers carding desperately through his hair as he fucks you through your high.

“Where–” Seokmin stutters, jaw clenched.

So you breathe, “In me,” and Seokmin groans long and low, as he comes undone, his release hot inside you, fingers searching for yours as he heaves. His hand is clammy and you smooth your other over his cheek, thumb skating over his cheekbone. Seokmin looks ragged, hair fucked and messy, lip bleeding from where you bit him in a fit of passion. He kisses you again, hungry and desperate as if the last forty minutes hadn’t been enough of you for him. Then he pulls out slowly, frowning apologetically as you wince in discomfort. He sets your foot back on the bed, before pressing one last, sweet kiss to your pelvis. You feel fucked raw, sensitive from all that the two of you had done.

Seokmin always ravishes you like it’s the first time he gets to hold you, taking his time until the bedsheets are tangled around your limbs and you’re both utterly spent. He loves you deep into the night, until the sun threatens to peek over the horizon. The dreamy cerulean color of the sky tells you it’s far too late for you to be awake. The street noise below has become all but mute, as the townspeople slumber peacefully in their homes. It’s the birdsong that pulls you from your reverie, still bleary-eyed and a little limp, so sudden you place your palms flat on Seokmin’s chest and stare at him in disbelief. He hums in acknowledgment, stirring from his place at your side.

“What time is it?” you rasp, voice hoarse from use.

Seokmin groans, reaching for his phone and murmurs, “Almost 4:30.”

Your eyes open a few more centimeters. “It’s been—it’s been all night.”

Your fiancé flashes his usual heartbreaking smile. “I know,” he says, and groans as he turns onto his side to look at you, “but I just wanted to be with you.” He tucks his arm under his head, reaching out a hand to run his thumb over your bottom lip. You kiss the pad of his thumb, leaning into his touch. “I love you.”

It always feels like a promise coming from his lips.

You flop back onto the bed, wincing at the twinge in your ass and roll over onto your stomach, tucking your chin over your folded hands. The Spanish coast is quiet, and for a while it’s just you and the ocean and the intimate sounds of Seokmin’s even breathing as he falls back asleep.

The next thing you feel are his lips on the base of your spine, and the early afternoon sun in your eyes. You blink groggily, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand as Seokmin kisses up your back. Goosebumps erupt on your skin and you wrap yourself in the top sheet, smiling sweetly as Seokmin leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, and rolls off the bed—still naked—over to the small kitchenette. “Coffee?”

You lift your arms high over your head, stretching until your muscles feel sore and limber, sighing deeply. “Mm, please.” Seokmin nods and grabs two espresso cups from the cupboard.

From your spot on the bed, you settle back, admiring the view of your beautifully sculpted fiancé preparing morning coffee. He’s started working out again, and you see the smooth muscles across his back flex as he stretches. Your eyes trace the graceful curve of his spine to his narrow hips and you flush, stifling a nervous giggle. Even making coffee while butt-naked, Seokmin exudes an easy confidence that sets you at peace, the slope of his shoulders relaxed as he waits for the espresso to finish brewing. The aroma of coffee curls into the air and you smile to yourself, tucking your chin into the palm of your hand. How did you get to be so lucky?

Seokmin catches you staring and breaks you from your trance by kissing your temple, holding a small espresso in his hand.

“Yeah?” he asks, eyes glinting with amusement. You tilt your head and just nod, scooting so he can join you on the bed again and press a kiss to his bare shoulder. Seokmin still smells like his sunscreen. He squeezes your thigh again, gazing wordlessly over the balcony at the coastline. It’s picturesque—nothing exists beyond this hotel room except for you and him.

The espresso is warm in your hands, but Seokmin’s body is warmer.

You’ll never be cold again.

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shadowofahope · 2 months

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Love Revocation

Pairing: ImperialGuard!JungHoseok x Princess!Reader

Premise: Only your brothers would be willing to step in and try to change your future. But history isn't easy to overcome, even if it is all but forgotten.

Word count: 3.5K

Author's note: I've been watching a lot of historical k-dramas and c-dramas lately, and I can say it's an addiction at this point! If you have any favourites feel free to share! I'd love to watch your recommendations as well as talk about any mutual ones we love!

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One foot infront of the other, the crisp air of the afternoon breeze through your robes and hair, the light chatter of people in the market; it all gave you a bittersweet taste of Deja vu. Times like these felt right, but you had the feeling that nothing looked as it should. It could be the small taste of freedom mixed with the claustrophobic fear being chained somewhere. However, where the other end of the chain was you didn’t know. Or you did once, but it was lost with the rest of your memories from all those years ago.

You stopped trying to remember after the first two season changes, then you accepted your circumstances and adjusted yourself to where you were.

Arms full, you smile gracefully at the passing merchants and village people, the ones bowing at you when recognization transpired. You all but skip down the back path heading towards the palace again.

You promised mother you’d finish her painting of the place father asked for her hand today. You had beeen working on it for her birthday, but you were too excited to wait. So it may have been promised 2 weeks earlier then her day.

However, a shroud voice catches your attention before you make it to the next corner. You stop in your tracks to listen. If living in the palace taught you anything it was ‘to always know the concerns of your people’, were fathers exact words. In otherwords you took it as a sign that it was ok, in most situations to eavesdrop… at least a little.

“She is being forced to marry the oldest son of the emperor and empress. Her bloodline will muddy just as theirs already is.” A sinik male voice mocked.

“What do you mean by that?” You heard your brothers fiance ask. She was a headstrong woman. Not only that but she was radiant. The type of woman your brother deserved.

“Everyone knows the young lady is unfavoured by the gods. So if you bear a child with him your children will be inflicted with the same inability.” This time a female voice chimed in. Just as distasteful as the males.

“The princess is kind, witty, social, politically intelligent, well read, impactful, understanding and unworldly beautiful. Our children will be blessed to have her as their aunt.” Tayla lists, you smile to yourself. She didn’t have to defend your honour so seriosuly, but you silently thanked her none the less.

“You have your doubts. There is no way you do not feel some worry about tarnishing your family name. Its reputation will be dragged through the land if your children fail to develope as she has. They will be cursed as she is.”

Anyone talking about your family members however, you just couldn’t let it slide so easily.

“My brothers children will develop into the strongest blood line of these past 1000 years, we are in no need of your concern.” You step in, rounding the corner of the building. Your voice and demeanour remain calm, a smile on your lips as your mother had taught you when it came to political arguments. Remaing calm when the opposing side could not, as strategy she had learned in her youth.

What others said about you didn’t really bother you anymore. As a young child you always felt the sting of their harsh words. Like they were hoping you’d choke on them. But it had the opposite affect. It only drove you to try harder, to learn the ways of the palace. To push yourself past the limits that this life had given you.

“My lady!” Many courteous greetings are followed by formal bows. “Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I was out for a walk through the village to get a few supplies.” Holding up the items in your hands, you sidle up to your future sister in law. Taking a step between her and the small circle of ill intended pupils.

“We didn’t mean anything by it. We were just worried she hadn’t thought it through. Or raised concerns” One of the young males spoke quickly. You stifle a scoff, but continue to maintain your composure.

“I’m sure you are.” You eye him carefully, if you weren’t mistaken he was one of the many candidates who wanted Tayla’s hand in marriage. “However as I am not my mother and fathers birth daughter, you’ll be happy to know my genes will die with me.”

“You are not the child of the Emporer and Empress?” The small crowd gasps in unison. You could laugh at how comical their faces became.

Even so, amongst the mumbling in front of you there is a faint call from behind you, you turn to her.

“Mother and Father saved me when I was young. Knowing I could not cultivate nor could remember where I had come from or how I ended up where they found me, they showed compassion and mercy upon taking me in and raising me with their children.” You explain to her alone. “I am blessed beyond measure. And your children will hold the greatest of titles. ”

--------

A few days had past since your unexpenctant, informal announcement of your lineage. A very important matter had taken your attention, so you had all but forgotten already. You hear frantic footsteps approach your room. You brace your mind for the inevitable impact that would be your brothers. Your hand doesn’t still as it continues to write on the parchment of your lessons from today. Your doors burst wide open, not bothering to look up at them.

“Are you really planning to take the tether serum?” Your youngest brother demands breathlessly.

“You’re here earlier then I expected, I am almost surprised.” You smile to yourself. If you had placed money on them discovering your plans, it would not have been until at least a week had past.

“Don’t make light of this.” Your eldest brother scolds from the rear, coming up behind your younger brother, closing the doors to conceal your conversation.

“Why would you make such a thing?” Taehyung's bewilderment is something you had became accustomed to. He somehow always seemed shocked by your actions. Considering how long you had been in the family now, you would have thought he had understood you at least a little.

You let out a deep sigh, the air from your lungs feels cold as it leaves your body into the warm air.

“I want to be of use to mother and father in the end. Is that so outrageous as to incur your unmistakable wrath?” You choose your words carefully, not wanting to sadden them with todays ongoings but at the same time you know Seokjin’s fiance has already informed him of the other day.

“We both understand greatly how indebted you feel towards them, but to tether your lifeline to them as someone still young is unheard of.” Seokjin reasons, still standing in the middle of the room, you can see his robes out of your peripheral. Taehyung sits down in the place next to you, trying to get your attention.

“Elder brother is right. If they both pass then so shall you, your soul cannot be separated. You shall serve them into death and upon new life.” His tone turning sorrowful.

This time you look up at him, then towards your elder.

“My dear brothers, It’s no secret that no one would marry me before and now with my birth being admitted, I have somehow lost whatever leverage I may have had.”

“That’s not true.” You see the hurt in the youngers eyes, but what you've said is true. You all know it. You give him a sad smile, letting your hand drop the brush, and placing it over his on the table.

“I cannot cultivate. I have no sense of magic or any prowess. My soul has been deemed weak and now people know that I am not the Emperor and Empress' true daughter.” You direct your smile towards Seokjin. “I have been preparing myself for this outcome since we were young. Please, if you cannot understand me then at least accept that this is your sisters wish.”

--------

“The last time the two of you bowed this deeply to us was when you were young children and you and our son had broken a priceless family heirloom while you were training in the halls.” The Emperors longest friend muses from his seat. Him and his wife had known your parents since they were young, they were as close as family. Including their son, who happened to be the same age as you. So all four of you had grown up together.

“Uncle. Auntie. We are here to request an inordinate favour from you. One we know may be impossible for you to agree to, but we must ask this of you.” Seokjin’s whole body is tense. Everything he can do to save you from tethering yourself is hanging on this outcome.

“What is it?” Your aunt is more curious then worried by their request. Seeing them kneel before them was a shock bigger then they had ever expected.

Your brothers sit up straight.

“Our sister. As you know she is unable to cultivate. She has no skill in combat. Many have deemed her unworthy to bear our family name.” Seokjin’s voice comes out strong, but his hands are trembling slightly. “However, as you also know. Our sister is competent in the kitchen, and with chores of the home. She is patient and nurturing when she takes care of the palaces many children. She has beautiful skills in the way of art and embroidery. She is generous beyond measure and courteous to others. She deserves to have a future.”

“We both agree. She is a diamond amongst pebbles. But what brings this tone of concern?” Uncle is concerned.

“Our sister has decided to take the tether serum and serve our parents.” Taehyung explains. “We do not know if you have heard the word circling about our sister not being of our blood. But we are here to confirm it. Our parents took her in when I was newly born, she is all I’ve known to be an older sister.”

“We are aware of the talk. We were also there the day your parents found the young lady.” The Uncle assures. “You do not need to worry about our thoughts towards the princess.”

“I am curious to this favour. What do you wish to ask for?” Auntie pushes.

“Our sister wishes to tether herself for she believes no one will marry her.” Seokjin explains. They bow again in unison, as if they had practiced their movements and speech before appearing. “We ask of you to please propose a marriage contract to the Emporer and Empress between our sister and your son.”

Taehyung cuts in quickly before they can be dismissed.“We know he is your only son, but we beg of you. She respects your son and you, uncle and auntie. There are many things she may be useful for.”

“Useful? She is enough as she is. We know that very well.” Uncle states, making eye contact with his wife. The look of understanding flashing between the two, unseen by the young princes.

“Just as we know our son. He has felt feelings of affection for the young lady for quite some time. You might not know this but she was the reason he decided he wanted to join the guard.” The older woman conceals her giggle behind her hand. “I had never seen such a rambunctious boy turn so serious.”

“He knew?” They both shoot up in surprise. Their friend had never mentioned having any knowledge of your sisters situation. But then again, they had never spoken of this either.

“Yes. Our son was adamant that he would protect the princess. We could not sway his mind. Though we did not try to. We have never looked down on her because of her situation. She has become a well rounded beautiful woman, our son would be blessed to take her as his wife.” The Lord nods,

“Does that mean you will agree?” They feel giddy. They could save you.

The older couple share a fond smile.

“There is something our son has been drawn to since he was a young boy. We believe your sister is the key to his happiness.”

--------

“Hoseok, what are you doing here?” You beam, controlling your feet to not skip your way over to him. A lady never skips…at least not in front of others.

“Princess” He greets you with a bow and warm smile as he always does. “I was summoned by the Emperor and Empress. Why have you come?”

“I was requested by Uncle and Auntie to meet them here.” You explain. “What is going on? Do you think its about Mothers birthday feast tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure, but we should not keep them waiting. Let us go in.” He opens the doors and waits for you to enter first.

You hurry in, smiles directed at your parents then your uncle and aunt.

A large round table adorned with vast plates of food, both your fathers sat near the far end laughing and chatting away, raising a drink to eachother. Your mothers seated next to their husbands also tremendously cheerful.

You share a quick glance before bowing.

“Emperor. Empress.” He greets first.

“Uncle. Auntie.” You greet directly after.

“Children! Come in! Have a seat.” You father cheers happily. Your aunt waves a hand over to you for you to sit next to her.

You bound over to sit next to your aunt. Which just so happens to be next to Hoseok as well.

“We are celebrating this evening.” Your mother informs, her attention on him.

“What are we celebrating Empress?” Formality laced in his words. It made you smile, even if he was like another son to your parents he highly respected them.

“Lord and Lady Jung, have come to us with a proposal contract and we have agreed.” The Emporer boisterously exclaims.

“I’m sorry, Father and Mother I fear I do not comprehend.” You express, eye brows coming to meet in a frown.

You see a flash of something cross Hoseoks face, but you stay focused on your looking between your parents.

Your Aunt grabs both your hands, placing them in the space between you and forcing you to face her.

“The Emporer and emperess have accepted our proposal for our son and you to be wed.” She cheers brightly, hands giving yours a light squeeze.

“I’m to marry-?” You look back at him. Scared to see panic or disgust or even rage on his dazzling features. But there isn’t any sign of darkening. Only red tinted ears give away any emotions he’s feeling. That in itself leaves you astonished adn shaken.

Words of wedding ceremonies are abrupt in your ears. The pattern of the bedding for your marriage suite.

“But, Uncle, auntie. I’m not worthy of marrying your son.” You say it like it is a definite fact, interrupting their excited remarks.

“Nonsense!” Your father bellows, a bright smile never leaving his face, he places his arm around his long term friend, who shares an equally blinding smile. “You two shall be wed! It is a beautiful idea, one I wish we had thought of sooner.”

The laughter from the elders erupts once again, leaving you shell shocked. Remaining quiet you can’t bring yourself to look at anyone, opting to stare at the oak table in front of you. How did these events happen? You had just made the choice to…

A sinking feeling hits you all at once. Your brothers. They were the only ones that knew of your plans, other then the physician you had asked the tether serum about. They would be the ones to try to stop you.

You’d deal with them after this dinner. You’d confront them and talk to Hoseok about his rejecting the marriage proposal.

You just had to sit nicely until then.

--------

“What did you do?!” You stormed into the study room the next day, you knew your brothers had hidden themselves away. They always resided in the same place to try to escape you when they had done something they knew you would be unhappy with. You had been followed by Hoseok on your way there when you mentioned you were confronting your brothers, upon meeting him that morning.

“Sister. This is a study room. Please refrain from raising your voice.” Your oldest mock scolding you, book in hand.

“Then answer me. I know it was the two of you that have provoked the marriage idea.” You were pulling back your seething temper, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

“Princess~” Hoseok calls calmly from behind you. You could feel him close behind you, not touching but close enough that you felt like you could breathe.

“What all of our parents decide to do we do not hold any influence over. You know as well as anyone.” Seokjin scoffs. The audacity he had to play ignorant at this moment was appalling.

“We may have brought up the idea of a union.” Taehyung supplies from the far end of the room.

“Why would you do this?” Exasperation seeps out of you. There was no point in hiding your displeasure or annoyance at these two. “You know I wish to be tethered.”

“Tethered?” Hoseok speaks again. “Who were you to be tethered to?”

“Mother and Father.” You state, angry eyes set on your brothers, but also not wishing to elaborate. This isn’t how you wanted him to find out. You were all childhood friends, you wanted to tell him yourself when he had time away from his duties in the guard.

“She believes no one shall love her because she is unable to cultivate. She believes she is not worth dotting on.” Your elder brother chimes in, closing his book and sauntering over to you. “But that’s not true. Is it Hoseok?“

“No. It’s not.” Your childhood friends voice is stern, you had never heard it like this before, at least not targeted at you. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Is this why you wanted me to talk my parents out of this marriage?”

“I wanted to be tethered to mother and father because I wish to serve them for eternity.” Your jaw tense. Your core feeling as it had turned into stone.

“Look at me.” You have never heard his voice so cold and low, not even when he was at work. Something in you makes it impossible to deny him, so you do as he orders. You can see the fire behind his eyes, before your allow the flames to consume you you look towards the chilled marble ground. You hear muffled voices of your brother behind you but you can’t react. You feel warm fingers gently push your chin up ever so gently, forcing you to make eye contact. “Princess. Y/n. Is that really why?”

Your voice catches in your throat. A cough threatening to scratch its way out of you. “I am not like others. I cannot contribute to a high class home as I should. I’m…. broken.”

You had never felt so weak as you did in that moment, not since the days yo uhad been found. You could never lie to him. Not once.

He studies your face, searching for something. “Is it the worst to be betrothed to me?”

“What?” His question catches you off guard. You blink at him in confusion. Of course, you knew he would be angry at your decision, or at the very least angry with you for not trusting in him to discuss it.

“I can understand if you wish not to be wed to me because you do not think I’m adequate.” His voice soft like the look in his eyes. Soothing your anger towards your brothers in a instant, your only focus on him and the sad smile on his lips.

“That is ridiculous. I would not want it to be promised to any one else in this entire kingdom.” Why do you feel breathless?

“Good.” His hand slips away from your skin. For a mere second, you miss the contact before realizing what you said. Your face burns with embarrassment, your eyes scrunching closed at how idiotic you sounded to yourself. Had you lost your mind? “Then I will discuss with our parents for the ceremony to be held as soon as possible.”

The shock brings you back out of your inner reprimanding. But before you can formulate words he’s bowing to your brothers and then you and he’s gone.

“W-what just happened?” Your mind struggles to catch up.

Hearing your brothers snicker at you doesn’t’ help, you’re still frozen in place. Frozen staring at the now closed doors that Hoseok, your childhood friend, had left through.

Seokjins full laugh fills the room. “Looks like you’ll be a little bride faster than I will be a groom.”

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short-honey-badger · 3 months

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Peppermint Tea 27 - Lavender 8

Okay. So I've had this chapter in the back burner for a while. Just fluffing the bare bones of it every now and then. We are introduced to a couple of new characters of my own creation. Forgive my lack of creativity on names and appearances.

Note!! I've posted this part once and then took it down like 10 minutes later when I realized I wasn't happy with it. I apologize to the ones who have already read this part. There have been some changes!

I really hope you enjoy! This plot has definitely thickened, and more drama Llama has come. I'm pulling out all the stops.

Warnings! Drinking and Shanks fucks up big time! A bit of a time skip happens. Also, a SURPRISE!

Masterlist

Shanks is drunk. Far more inebriated than he had planned to be, but the sake and rum were tasty, and he and his crew were celebrating a raid gone perfectly. The hoard that Yasopp had found at the end of the fight, if you could even call it one, had been the cherry on top. The group of organized bandits had been at work for a long time, stealing and taxing the villages of this island until everyone was as poor as dirt.

A child of all people had begged Shanks and his crew to take care of the bandits. The redhead had seen another kid in this one’s place, a big sneaky grin and mischievous eyes, and had easily caved. Lucky Roux had found the trail to the hideout quickly, and it was over after that. The bandits and their leader didn't stand a chance against someone like Shanks.

So now, they sat in the bar that had the most booze, going through the bandit hoard for anything they may want for themselves. The villagers had been adamant that the entire crew took something as payment, and Shanks wasn't about to say no to anything for free. He was a pirate, after all.

The Emperor had caught sight of a beautiful hair clip, one simple but ornate with tiny blue jewels embedded in the silver material. Shanks had thought of his treasure, specifically his Snowflake when he'd seen the hair clip and had swiftly pocketed it before losing himself in the copious amounts of booze that flowed around him.

Now that Shanks was thinking about you, he realized just how much he missed his treasure. It's been just over two weeks since he last saw you and tasted your lips on his. Far too long since he'd been able to bury his head between your legs and bring you to the edge over and over before you were begging him to let you come. Or having you ride his cock until you were nothing but a sobbing mess who couldn't remember anything other than the names of the two men who you belonged to.

It’s been three months since the first time Shanks had gotten the privilege of making love with his little treasure. In his drunken state, these two weeks felt like that long ago, and Shanks sighed dramatically and slumped over the bar, his mug of ale sloshing dangerously over the lip, “Benn when can we go back to _’s island?”

Shanks is far from quiet, and the bar is still filled with other pirates. People are listening in, most uncaring for the drunk pirate lamenting about his want for some woman. But to one, the old man hears your name, and recognition lights his brain.

Benn slaps him on the back of his head, a scowl on his face as he narrows his eyes at his Captain. The idiot was drunk as a skunk, “You need to be more careful, Shanks.”

The redhead pouts at Benn, dark eyes glassy, and then he drunks straight from the bottle of sake he holds. He wipes his mouth, “I know what I'm doing, Benn. No one here could ever beat me in a fight. I can protect _ just fine.”

“That's not the point, Shanks,” Benn hisses at him and tugs his Captain close by his black cloak. He shakes him, trying to knock some sense into the other man. Beckman knows that Shanks could be irresponsible, but this was ridiculous.

“Think for a damn second. If someone overhears and spreads a rumor that an Emperor of the Sea is head over heels with her. It's over. You know her past, you know who would be after her. Not to mention that Mihawk would kill you.”

The redhead sees everything that has gone so well the past six months with you and Mihawk all go up in flames. His treasures would despise him, and he would have no choice but to accept that, because it would be all his fault. Already ruining something good.

He spirals further when he thinks about the news you had shared with him and Mihawk the last time the three of you had been able to get together.

--------

You stand before the two men. Shanks can tell that you are nervous, snow has gathered around your feet, and he fights the urge to pull you close and demand what's wrong. Mihawk sits beside him, concern swimming in his ringed gaze. Hank lays on the floor between the three of you, big dark eyes trained on his human.

You begin to pace, picking up the now massive orange fluff ball and holding him close. You hold Sukuna close to your chest, threading your fingers through his thick fur. They watch you take a deep breath and then turn to them, eyes wide and full of trepidation.

“My period hasn't started yet. I keep careful track of it, and it's been fifty-two days since my last one. I-I’ve been really sick in the morning and feeling weak, and all my books say that I'm probably… pregnant?”

Mihawk nor Shanks like the fear in your voice, but your announcement has both of them star-struck. There was a baby inside of you? Made by one of them? Shanks pictures a little girl with bright red hair and golden eyes, chubby cheeks, and a brilliant smile. It's picturesque and perfect in his mind's eye, a beautiful mix of all three of them.

Hawkeye is the first to stand from the couch and go to your side. He takes your face in hand, calloused fingers holding you so carefully, and then dips down to press his lips to yours. Dracule is a mess of emotions, but elation wins over all of it. Never in his life did he think that he would have this chance, and he vowed that he would not squander it. As he kissed you, Mihawk came to the harsh conclusion that he no longer had a choice in keeping his involvement in her past a secret. The warlord would have to tell you.

Shanks eyes his lovers, a smile playing on his lips as he stands to gather his treasures close. He drops a kiss to the back of your head and sneaks his hand around your stomach, a look of wonder coming over his face as he strokes your belly.

“A kid, huh?” Shanks murmurs, and his haki creeps forth, wrapping around you and Mihawk, “I think we can swing that.”

---------

Shanks seems to sober up a bit at the harsh reminder. He sits straight, frown replacing his easy-going pout. his first mate is right, and his chest feels tight with guilt at his incompetence. Had he really been that loud? Fuck. Shanks doesn't remember. He licks his lips and pushes the bottle of sake to the side, suddenly not in the mood for any more drinking.

How could he be this dumb? Shouting your name to the heavens in a drunken stupor, needing his first mate to come in and literally shake some sense into him.

“Thank you, Benn,” Shanks croaks and runs his hand through his hair, grimacing at the state it was in. Gods, what was wrong with him tonight, “Let's head back to the ship, yeah?”

Benn stands, tossing some berri to the counter, “Best idea you've had tonight, Captain.”

The old man stands to go to the bar and order a drink, watching the two men stumble out of the bar. Though he looks unassuming dressed in regular clothes like a local, it is far from the truth.

Wiseman is an old member of the Big Mom pirates and remembers the destruction of the Nammu Isles and the two members of the royal family who escaped. They knew of the location of one, but to hear the name of the princess who was thought to be dead was interesting news that his Captain would be delighted to hear about.

------------

Thousands of miles away, a man sits at a dingy bar. He wears a navy uniform, and a Vice Admiral coat clings to his shoulders. His white hair is shaggy and unkempt, and a pair of brilliant green eyes stare into the sake he holds in his hand. He is clean-shaven with a sharp jaw, though his face is marred by a single scar that crosses vertically on the right side of his mouth. No one bothers the man, for which he is very grateful.

Today was his baby sister's birthday, and he always made sure to take off from any kind of work to mourn her. She wasn't dead. At least he didn't think so, but it's been twenty-two years since the last time he'd laid eyes on his sister. He couldn't visit her, it was far too dangerous for that, so the best he could do was make this day for her. Just like he used to before their home had been taken.

The officer knows back his sake, and the bartender helpfully refills his cup. He sits there for another hour before his peace is broken by one of his subordinates.

“Vice-Admiral Delemur?”

He sighs heavily, and a scowl crosses his face when he gives the younger man his attention. His crew knew better than to bother him on this date, so this had better have been important, “Yes, Nitchell?”

The young man gulped in the face of his superior, and Delemur cursed whoever had allowed this wet behind-the-wear recruit into his platoon. Wait. Fuck. That had been him. Was he an idiot? He focuses back on the kid when he speaks up.

“Vice-Admiral Smoker is here to see you. Said he would wait for you on the docks, Sir.”

Smokey was here? Well, that changed things now, didn't it? Smoker, and when did he get Vice-Admiral? He'd been a Captain last time they spoke- was one of the two people in the Navy who knew about Delemur's sister. The other was Sengoku, even if the white-haired man wasn't a fan of the Fleet Admiral.

Delemur stands and pushes his cup into the recruit's hands, “Here. Finish that for me. Be a good kid, and pick up my tab, too.”

He leaves the kid blubbering at the bartender and disappears, body dropping to the ground and turning into dust. He flies past citizens and pirates alike until he arrives at the docks. The officer finds Smoker at the end of the docks, and he reforms beside the other man, the scared side of his lips twisting up in a welcoming smirk.

“Hey, Smokey. Long time no see,” He murmurs and the other man gives him a matching smirk, “Nice coat.”

“Tomura, still a smarmy ass, huh?” Smoker drawls, and shifts the two cigars in his mouth to the opposite side. He looks at his old friend up and down, seeing the drunken haze in those green eyes. The Vice-Admiral knows what day it was, it's why he came to seek Tomura out when he found out that the other man was only an island away. Not to mention that he had news that the other man might want.

“You know it,” Tomura quips back dryly. He shifts to look out at the raging ocean, and two pairs of knuckle dusters clink on his belt. He licks his lips and eyes his friend out of the corner of his eyes. While it's good to see Smoker, it's odd that the other man would go out of his way to see him, even on this particular day, “Whatcha doin’ here, Smoker?”

Tomura doesn't know if he is thankful or not that the other man has never beaten around the bush. But he does know that he hates the look of pity that Smoker gives him.

“Someone's been talking about your sister, Tomura. Rumor says that it came from Red Haired Shanks singing her name, which started circulating about a week ago. News travels fast in the Grand Line, but there's not been a peep from him about her since.”

Tomura sober instantly and orders his crew to start packing up the second Smoker finishes telling him about the rumors surrounding his little sister. He can hardly see through the film of red that threatens to block out his senses. His hold on his devil fruit fluctuates, his body a weird mix of dust and flesh.

The G-5 Vice-Admiral wishes his old friend good luck and departs as quickly as he'd shown up. While he'd like to go with Tomura, he unfortunately had orders to return to Impel Down for prisoner transport. Smoker grips his friend by the forearm, hand tight enough to leave fingerprints behind, “You watch out for those damn, pirates. Good luck, Tomura.”

The white haired man books it to his ship, shouting orders to his crew that lingers around the docks. They break into action right away, most of them running to the ship to begin readying it to sail. Tomura goes straight to his cabin, dropping to his knees and pulling out an old trunk that is full of old documents and things from his past. He bypasses everything until he finds the old log pose that would lead him to where he needed to go. Back to the safe house. Back to his sister.

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat

#one piece #fanfic #reader insert #fluff #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x you #opla mihawk #shanks x reader #mihawk x shanks #red haired shanks #opla shanks #opla x reader #opla shanks x reader #shanks x reader x mihawk #mishanks #mishanks x reader

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noodyl-blasstal · 5 months

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King of the (bouncy) Castle

It's @taznovembercelebration day 17 and today I drew the prompt "soft"

Read below or on Ao3 if you prefer. Missed yesterday's? Find it here.

“Ko!” Lup yells from the hall.

“What?” He screams from his bedroom, because he’s still deciding on what to wear and if it’s that urgent she can come in.

“Do you know anyone else?”

“In general? Or?”

“Don’t be a dick. Do you know anyone who can come today?”

“Why?”

“Magnus had to drop out.”

“We can win without him.”

“A team is four people.”

“Ask Dav.”

“He’s racing today”

“Lucretia?”

“She just laughed until I hung up. It was a solid 3 minutes.”

“Merle?”

“I’m going to need you to work from the assumption that I have remembered our joint friends with whom we spend all our time”

“But seriously, Merle.”

“Taako, I have tried everyone we jointly know. He said he was going to be busy in the greenhouse, and then he said some other things. Would you like me to tell you what those other things are? Because I can. I can tell you exactly what he had planned for the onions because he told me because I had him on speaker phone and I got trapped in my shirt and he said a lot of words before I could hang up. They’re burned into my brain forever and cha’girl is happy to share that burden.”

“No! Lulu, don’t! I’ll cast silence.”

“I’ll counterspell it. Now start thinking of people.”

“Angus?”

“I also know Angus, and he’s a literal child.”

“He’s, what, 6 now?”

“He’s eleven, Taako, you baked him a cake in the shape of the number for his birthday two weeks ago.” There’s no need for Lup to slander him like this.

“Eleven! That’s basically an adult for humans, right?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you going to stop doing special magic boy lessons with him because he’s all grown up now?” Lup goes for the jugular. He doesn’t have to stand for this cruelty, for the implication that he actually likes spending time with the baby.

“What aboutttt… erm…” Taako changes the topic seamlessly and casts his mind furiously about for a name, any name, of a person Lup wouldn’t have already called. There’s one that popped up as soon as Lup asked and he’s trying his best to see round it but it keeps sidling into his eye line. He can’t though. It’d be a disaster. “Errrrr… Brian.”

“No. Absolutely anyone else.”

“What’s wrong with Brian?”

“He’s in a cult!”

“But apart from the cult stuff he’s lovely.”

“Taako! Do you want to win or not?”

Fine. Fine! Taako does very much want to win, especially after Lydia tripped him last year.

“Kravitz.” He says it fast, like he’s ripping off a plaster. Maybe Lup won’t put two and two together.

“The guy from work?”

“No?”

“Oh, you know another Kravitz, do you?”

“Yes?”

“Is any of that supposed to have convinced me?”

“Is it working?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“So… different Kravitz? How do you know Kravitz-Who’s-Not-From-Work? Why do you have a way of getting in touch with him?” Lup’s going to cling to this an unnecessary amount.

“Ooooh are we talking about Kravitz?” Barry, fucking Barry, asks. Wandering his ass right into their private conversation.

“This is a private conversation, Barold.” Yells Taako through the door of his room into the hall of their too-small shared apartment.

“Would you like me to put my noise cancelling headphones on?” Barry asks, earnestly, like he’d actually fucking do it if Taako said yes.

“Absolutely not, Barry, You live in this house and you have every right to be in this hallway.” Lup snaps. She’s still mad about last time Taako forgot to tell Barry he could take the headphones off. In his defence, he made him a cake about it. A jake, in fact, with edible press studs. Barry loved it! Plus, he was listening to one of his lectures, he was fine, happy as a clam!

“Fine.” Taako threw up his hands, no one could see him, but it felt important to do it anyway, you know, for the drama. He couldn’t argue with this, he didn’t have a choice, he may as well give in and call Kravitz, they’ve both worked together to twist his arm. “You’re making me do this though. It’s not because I want to. I’ve been compelled.”

“What?” Says Barry, perplexed. “I thought we were just talking about your crush.”

“His what?” Says Lup.

Taako springs forward and manages to flick the lock across the second before Lup tries the handle.

“You’re in love with death?” She tries the handle a few more times, as if it’ll jiggle the lock free.

“A man isn’t his job, Lup.” Taako shouts back. Denying everything.

“That wasn’t a no!”

“I have to ring him, because you’re making me. Or do you not want to win Bounce Off 2: Bounce in the City?”

There’s grumbling from the other side of the door followed by a muttered “c’mon Barold,” fakeout. Taako’s wise to it though, so he isn’t shocked by her ‘one last try’ of the door handle, or the second attempt that follows after she does fake footsteps away from the door.

“Fine! He’d better be down though and good.”

“He’s tall.” Says Barry, conversationally. He’d better not plan on telling Lup anything else.

“Good. We can use height.Is he strong?” Lup asks.

Kravitz is strong, Taako knows that for normal reasons, reasons like he can carry a lot of pastries when he orders them; and that time he helped Taako move the big table when someone spilled and he had to clean under it. Not reasons like all the time he spends staring at Kravitz’s forearms, and his thighs, and his everything else. Because he doesn’t do that. Taako would never.

“Fine. Don’t answer me.” Lup actually leaves this time, Taako pretends he can’t hear Barry telling her about Kravitz and his newfound love of coffee and baked goods.

Taako [10:23] Yo stud got a minute to chat?

It was only polite to text first, he doesn’t want to jumpscare Kravitz with a phone call, he isn’t a sadist. The three dots flashed up immediately. Thank fuck he’s awake at the crack of dawn.

Bones [10:24] Dear Taako, Of course, I’ve always got time for you. All best, Kravitz.

Taako has been trying hard not to find his ridiculous dork texts endearing. He’s failing. Badly. He ignores the squooshy feeling it gives him and hits the call button instead.

“Hello Taako, it’s lovely to hear from you!” Says Kravitz like he actually means it.

“Hey Krav, quiiiiiick q for ya. What’re you doing this morning?”

“I’m just practising.” Of course he is. Why wouldn’t Kravitz be sat straddling his giant instrument right now? Taako’s mature though, he won’t make a joke about it.

“Can’t keep your hands off your instrument, shameful!” Fuck.

“Well, someone has to keep it in tune.”

Gods, he wasn’t supposed to play along. Why did he keep flirting back? Was this whole thing actually plausible?

“Wanna spend some time with Taako instead?”

“I’d be very interested in that.” Kravitz says, buttery and glorious.

“How do you feel about inflatables?”

There’s a long pause.

“It’s not a sex thing.” Taako says, to make it less weird.

“I’m not sure that makes what you said less weird, Taako.”

“You know, like bouncy castles.”

“Okay.” Kravitz doesn’t sound particularly convinced.

“And my sister will be there.”

There’s another pause. “...And Barry?”

“Obviously.”

“Uh huh.”

Fuck, Taako’s losing him, and it’s suddenly incredibly important that Kravitz not only agree to this, but is also enthusiastic about it. “It’s a competition.” Says Taako.

“Oh?” Of course that piqued his interest, Kravitz loves competition. He tries to help harder than any other customer, tip better than anyone else, and he races people in the street.

“We lost last year, but we’ve been in training.”

“You’ve been in bouncy castle training?”

“Obstacle course training… and also trampolines.”

“Is that what the weird squeaking is when we’re on the phone sometimes?”

“What?”

“You know, the calls where you’re all breathy and there’s the squeaking noise.”

Taako didn’t realise Kravitz had picked up on that. “You didn’t think…?”

“Well now I know it’s not a sex thing.”

“You thought it was a sex thing and you stayed on the phone?”

“I don’t judge.”

“You didn’t wanna ask Taako what he was up to?”

“I know you’re a private person.”

“Not if you think Taako’s doing sex things on the phone without your consent. In fact, that’s the least private a person can be.”

“You make a compelling point.”

Taako doesn’t even begin to know what to do with that. “So… bouncing?”

“Where is it?”

“We can pick you up.”

“All three of you?”

“Barry said he’s sorry and he’ll stop asking about the ‘secret sauce.’”

“I just really don’t think it’s a respectful way to talk about embalming fluid.”

Taako thinks it’s a great way to refer to embalming fluid, but he also wants Kravitz to be happy. “He double pinky promised.”

“Oh, well if he double pinky promised.”

“Great! Pick you up in 20, wear something snazzy.”

Taako hangs up the phone before Kravitz can object or ask anything else. He has limited time and an outfit to re-plan.

#taznc #taz november celebration #Taakitz #Background Blupjeans #Taako #Kravitz #Lup #Barry Bluejeans #TAZ Balance #TAZ Spoilers #TAZ fic #Noodyl Writes #Mild references to sex #Are these getting more unhinged? No. We've been like this from the start

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bitterie-sweetie · 1 year

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Set it up

Pairing: Seokmin (DK) x reader Genre: fluff WC: 6.2k A/N: happy bday and seokmin day nat @syuperseventeen !! this is the fic that i've been writing in our dms foreverrr and now it's finally here (*´∇｀*)

You have absolutely no idea how to get closer to your crush, but perhaps asking his best friend for some advice is the way to go.

The whole point was to get close to Mingyu. That’s really all you wanted.

You don’t remember when you first met him, exactly. For the longest time, he’s just been someone who’s there—the tall one at the center of the group, the one cheering for you when you finally scored a strike during bowling night, the one waiting for you by the bathrooms when the rest of your friends have already headed out the door. He would smile at you and ask how you were doing, but otherwise, the two of you have never really talked. Truthfully, you’re not sure he even knows your name.

But despite that, you do end up learning a lot about him at all these events your friends drag you to. You know he's a lefty, and that he's good at bowling and just about any sport under the sun. You know he's an amazing cook, or so everyone says, and on top of that he also likes to clean. Though what really sealed the deal might have to be the time he let you walk on the inside of the sidewalk, as if he were a character straight out of a drama.

Now, months later, you’ve finally acknowledged these budding feelings for Kim Mingyu. But while acknowledging is one thing, the problem that remains is how do you get closer to him? You’ve tried to strike up a conversation many times already but what is there to talk about? At the pizza place a couple of weeks ago, you nearly mentioned the Marvel movie you saw the previous weekend only to stop yourself—what if he’s also a fan and you accidentally spoiled the entire thing? Or maybe he's not a movie person at all and would just smile awkwardly and pretend he didn’t hear you. Is he a book person then? He might be. But you also couldn’t ask about that when you haven't read a single book since high school, and there's no way you'd be able to keep up with the conversation if that's what gets him talking.

So here you are, finally turning to his best friend, Seokmin, for advice. Saturday morning has you out at a cafe instead of getting your eight hours, but such sacrifices are necessary for the sake of love.

Seokmin comes back from the counter, carrying both of your drinks and setting them down on the table in front of you. He’s wearing his usual bright smile that you’ve seen a few times before, and it calms your rapid heart a little. You try to smile back at him.

Out of the people you know to be Mingyu’s friends, Seokmin seemed the most approachable. He’s friendly and outgoing, loves to laugh, and during your group outing at the arcade, the two of you even played a few games together. Besides, you definitely weren’t going to ask the one with the glasses when he hardly spoke and never looked your way once, and the one that dances—Minghao, according to Soonyoung—might just laugh at your request more than he’d help. Thus, Seokmin was the obvious choice. You thought that if anyone could help you out, surely it’d be him.

“So?” He looks at you, unblinking. “What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

You open your mouth, and then close it again when the words feel like they’re sticking to your throat. Maybe you shouldn’t have done this. Is it too late to turn back? But you remind yourself that it’d be a waste to have come all this way just to not go through with it. “Um, you know your friend Mingyu?”

“No, who’s that?”

“Well, I wanted to ask you how I could get closer to him. Like, maybe you can tell me what his ideal type is? What are his interests? Does he have siblings and is he close to his family? Do you think you could maybe put in a good word for me the next time you talk to him? Maybe even… set us up on a date or something?”

Seokmin simply stares at you for a while and then blinks. Silence lingers in the air and each second that passes only makes your cheeks heat up more and more. Great, you said way too much. What kind of person bombards their crush’s friend with a random session of rapid-fire questions anyway?

And then, just as you imagined in your worst-case scenarios, he laughs. "Oh? You want me to be your wingman or something?" He manages to squeeze out.

Oh.

You don't laugh with him.

He stops laughing. "You can't be serious?"

"Well, not exactly a wingman but you're Mingyu's friend. Maybe you could give me some advice? Help me out a bit?"

“Hmm,” Seokmin considers for a moment. "Yeah, I've known Mingyu for a long time..." He raises a brow, and the corner of his lip lifts a little. "He's a tough person to get to know; usually he’s so friendly with everyone that you'd never know what he actually likes.”

“Right, that’s exactly why I need your help.”

“Are you sure about this? Because you're going to need some intensive training."

You don't know what he means by that. Is he saying you’re unworthy? That you’ve got no game? That—well, actually, he’s probably right. You’re here begging for his help after all. But despite this being a slight bruise to your ego, you’re sure whatever advice he can give must be better than the things Soonyoung has been telling you to do.

“Yeah,” you give a firm nod, “I’m sure. Let’s do it.”

“Okay!” Seokmin lifts his cup, holding it out for you to bump yours against, and then the deal is sealed.

And so, the plan begins.

After the initial meeting at the cafe, you meet him every few days when the two of you have time. Tuesday afternoon at the library is when Seokmin tells you where Mingyu usually hangs out—at the lounge in the finance building—and then Wednesday is when you swing by and entirely miss him. You get dinner with Seokmin on Thursday, just in time for your next opportunity, which presents itself as another group outing. This time at a board game cafe.

“I’ll create an opportunity so that you can sit beside him,” he says nonchalantly like it’s the easiest thing in the world, then proceeds to shove nearly the entire sandwich in his mouth.

“Right… but then what? What do I do after that?”

He looks at you mid-chew. You wait. Ten minutes go by. “The rest is in the hands of the OTP gods, Y/N.”

You do end up sitting next to Mingyu, with Seokmin on Mingyu’s other side, but that turns out to be the least of your worries. Sitting there has you picking up a stack of twelve cards during a game of Uno, when the two best friends stack their plus four cards to pass the punishment along to you. So much for sitting beside Mingyu. At least it gets him to laugh, though it’s Seokmin who’s having a good time at your expense, eyes sparkling and lip curling automatically when he meets your gaze.

Then the Saturday cafe session comes around again.

Seokmin sits down and crosses his arms, face unreadable. "Y/N, I barely pay attention to what’s going on around me and I still managed to see the way you tried to not-so-subtly get Mingyu's coffee order out of him yesterday. Please tell me it’s something you’ll never do again. You’re way too obvious. I am embarrassed for you."

Oh. So that’s what this is about.

"Okay, well," you frown at him, "if that was so bad then how would you do it then?"

"For starters, maybe don't mention it five times in a row while intentionally staring at him like you're waiting for an answer." He gives you a pointed look.

It was more like three times! Not five! "I wasn't staring," you mutter under your breath, though you know he's right. You're probably a lost cause at this rate and you still don't know what to do with the information that Kim Mingyu likes americanos.

As if he can sense your displeasure, Seokmin stops with the teasing after that. "Okay, first you just have to act natural. None of the googly eyes, the strange walks by his table when we're hanging out, and especially no interrogation questions."

“Uh huh.” You're skeptical. He’s making it sound way too easy. “And then what?”

“Then you talk to him like he’s just some guy.”

In the next moment, Seokmin puts on an impression of Mingyu so awful that it makes you entirely forget that you’d embarrassed yourself this time.

Soonyoung picks the arcade for the next week’s outing, and Seokmin tells you about all of the games that you could play with Mingyu. Shooting games, he says, are especially a good team bonding experience. Or you could battle it out on the DDR machines. But two rounds into the shooting game, Mingyu’s character is already dead, and while you manage to score a D on the DDR game, he ends up failing halfway through the song.

“So much for that plan,” you mutter, putting down the gun from the shooting game you’re about to quit. “Do you think I should’ve picked something easier?”

“Nah, that wouldn’t be fun.” Seokmin shakes his head and then takes out some tokens from his pocket. He puts them into the slot, then joins you by the spot where Mingyu left a moment ago. “We didn’t get to the end of the story last time, remember?”

You nod, feeling the grin creeping onto your face already. Seokmin is a good shot based on when you played this with him last time, and the two of you have perfect teamwork. “Let’s get it,” you say, high-fiving his outstretched hand. And before long, the night flies by and the two of you have used up all of your tokens.

Just like that, the two of you fall into a routine. Seokmin would give you a piece of advice, you’d attempt to use it the next time you see Mingyu, and then it’d fail. Then rinse and repeat.

It’s far from terrible, though. Seokmin might tease you a bit about your embarrassing moments and lack of progress, but you can’t be mad about it at all when spending time with him is ultimately a mood booster. He’s great at distracting you from not only your failure of a love life but from all of your school stresses as well, and more often than not, your hangouts tend to derail into something crazy and fun.

Sometimes you find yourself joining him in doing the awful impressions of your favourite Marvel characters, and other times you’re going to the convenience store to get late night snacks while having the world's largest debate over which kimbap flavour is the best. At some point you even dare each other to slurp the last of your bubble teas in the library as quietly as possible (spoiler alert: it doesn't go so well).

Even when it’s not so crazy, there’s never a dull moment with Seokmin. You get to learn a lot about him—after getting kicked out of the library, he shares his secret spot on campus with you and the two of you end up studying together there into the early hours of the morning. When you ask for a drink recommendation, he shares his extra customized Starbucks drink recipe. And when the sunrise slowly appears on the horizon and the two of you have given up on studying for the next midterm, he doesn’t shy away from telling you what he aspires to do after graduation, what he’s always dreamed of.

You end up falling asleep on his shoulder, and you think he’s going to make fun of you forever for it, but he simply smiles at you. An extra warm smile, washed by the golden rays of first light.

Then the two of you part ways and promise to meet each other again in a few days, although it never takes that long before he texts you a meme and you swing by his secret spot.

It does, however, make your friends notice your absence. Soonyoung corners you after your shared class one day to ask you where you’ve been, what you’ve been up to, and why he doesn’t seem to ever see you when you’re supposed to be best friends.

“Y/N, you’re not even going to study with us?” Soonyoung stands there, jaw dropping and mouth open in shock when you stand up to leave. Beside him, his girlfriend wears a milder version of the same expression. “Where are you going? We barely get to see you these days.”

“I have to go meet Seokmin now,” you say, picking up your bag. “I’ll see you guys next time, okay?”

He gives you a strange look. “Seokmin? Why are you meeting him? Did you guys become besties or something? Is that why you’ve been so MIA lately?”

“Yeah, kind of. Something like that.”

“Something like that,” Soonyoung repeats, unconvinced. “Are you guys dating?”

“What?” It’s your turn to give him a weird look. “No, Seokmin is just a friend. We’ve been hanging out and studying together, and he’s helping me with—”

Mingyu.

Kim Mingyu.

Even his name sounds unusual in your head, as if it’s a word you’ve repeated so many times that it has lost its meaning. But you know it’s the complete opposite of that: Mingyu’s name is unfamiliar to you because it hasn’t come up in a very long time.

“Y/N? You good?”

“Um, never mind. It’s a long story,” you quickly say, forcing a smile on your lips to hide the way your world has abruptly flipped upside down. “I’ll hang out with you guys next time, okay? I’ll even treat you to coffee.”

At the sound of that, Soonyoung’s frown turns into a grin but you barely have time to glance at it before you’re taking off.

The student center looks the same as it did last week and the week before that, and yet, it feels completely different this afternoon. You’re taken back to the first day you stepped in here to meet Seokmin, months ago, long before your memories of this place were filled with laughter and his funny impressions and all of the silly inside jokes you share.

Because how could you have forgotten the reason why you started all of this in the first place? How could Mingyu have slipped from your mind? You like him, for goodness’ sake! Perhaps you should be glad that Soonyoung’s questions served as a wakeup call and yanked you out of whatever reverie you were in, but now your stomach feels all queasy at just how far you’ve managed to stray from your original intentions.

“Hey,” Seokmin greets with his usual bright smile. He takes a seat across from you, and you can feel the corners of your lips instantly curving up. It really is that easy to forget, you think. One look at that smile and you’re in a bubble, with the outside world melting away. But you can’t forget any longer.

“Hi.”

He nearly does a double take. “Everything okay?”

“Um, yeah.” You need to figure out how to bring this up without making it weird, but at this point, it’s going to be weird either way. “I was just thinking about, um, well, we haven’t really gone out as a group for a while since everyone’s been busy and all. Maybe we can go after midterms.” You throw in a shrug to keep it nonchalant. “And maybe you can tell me if… Mingyu would be interested in that trendy restaurant we went to last month.”

You’re bringing that time up because it totally could’ve been a test run, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. That day, the rest of the group had cancelled on the original plans since some of them were busy, and so you and Seokmin spent the night looking for something fun to do followed by some good food. But maybe it’d be a good date spot with Mingyu; it was a great place after all. Maybe you wouldn’t feel like throwing up if you keep telling yourself that all of these activities you did, all the time that you invested over the past few months were for Mingyu.

You can see the moment Seokmin realizes it. The light that’s ever present in his eyes slowly fades until it completely disappears, and for the first time ever, his smile is gone. It makes one thing clear—you weren’t the only one who’d forgotten about Mingyu. Seokmin had forgotten about him too.

“Right,” he nods slowly, “I can ask him about that.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

There’s a silence that settles between the two of you, but not in the way it’d felt before. This time it’s dense, suffocating, foreboding, although you can’t exactly tell why you feel it and what it’s leading to. What’s the big deal about having gotten off track anyway? You can just correct your route and continue.

“Seokmin? And Y/N? Wow, I haven’t seen you guys in so long,” a voice comes floating over.

And when you look up, it’s Mingyu. Right in the flesh.

You can tell that his hair has grown out a bit and he’s dressed far more casually than you’ve ever seen him, but he still looks as good as always.

The two of you mutter your hellos but when no one seems to pick up the conversation, Mingyu ends up looking between you and Seokmin in a way that might lead to the same kind of misinterpretation that Soonyoung experienced.

No, you can’t risk having him get the wrong idea. “Mingyu,” you impulsively say, “do you want to go out for dinner with me this weekend?” There’s a slight emphasis on the me, so he doesn’t think it’s an us question.

A questioning look briefly flashes across his face, but to your surprise, Mingyu ends up nodding. “Yeah, okay.”

If it were the you from last term, there’d be no way such a bold question would ever come out of your mouth. But now, things are different. Now you can rashly throw out such propositions all for the sake of correcting yourself and getting back on track before more people get the wrong idea.

After chatting for a while, Mingyu leaves the two of you and says he'll talk to you soon. Oddly enough though, you barely feel any satisfaction afterwards—you're not jumping for joy or squealing in excitement like you once thought you’d be when in this situation. But isn’t this what you wanted?

Well, it’s no big deal. You tell yourself it’s because you’re still dumbfounded over his answer, especially when the two of you haven’t connected recently. Yes, that must be it. That must be why he slipped your mind in the first place; it’s not that your feelings for him faded, but just that you’ve been too busy.

You pack away the other thoughts into a box and seal it tightly. What would you do with the fact that you asked Mingyu the question thinking he’d turn you down, and weren’t upset at the thought of being rejected?

Across from you, Seokmin also appears to be taken aback by this whole encounter. He's quiet for once, almost as if he doesn't know how to react, and there’s a neutral expression on his face that you’ve never seen before. When you meet his eyes, they’re missing their usual warmth.

“Congrats, Y/N. You won’t be needing my help anymore.” Then he looks down to check the time on his phone. “Ah, I have to go for my tutorial session now,” he mutters, standing up and then slinging his bag on his shoulder without giving you another glance. “Have fun on the date.”

“Yeah—” you start to say, but he’s already out of earshot.

It’s only after you get back to your dorm that you realize: Seokmin doesn’t have a tutorial session today at all.

The rest of the week passes by quickly. You don't get a chance to see Seokmin when you're wrapped up in assignments and latched onto by Soonyoung, who insists on dragging you from store to store to pick an outfit for your date. And while you’re looking forward to the date and you’re content that everything is back on track, for some reason the stone in your chest doesn’t disappear. You feel it pressing down on you every time your eyes drift to your phone and see the lack of notifications.

Soon enough, the weekend approaches and it’s time for your date with Mingyu. You end up reluctantly wearing what Soonyoung picked out, figuring it can’t be any worse than what you have in your closet, and then head out to meet Mingyu at the restaurant you agreed on.

The night starts off just a little awkward—he speaks so quickly that you only end up catching half of each sentence, and the noise in the restaurant definitely doesn't help your case. Is it too much to hope he doesn't ask any questions and that your half-laugh is enough to cover yourself? Oh and you end up dropping a fork. Unintentionally. But it turns out to be the best thing to happen, for when you meet Mingyu's eyes after bending to pick it up, the two of you burst into laughter and it's like all the ice between you melts away.

After that point, it's pretty much what you expected: the food is good, the vibes are nice, and it's everything you could've hoped for. Mingyu is really nice and talking to him reminds you of what caught your eye in the first place, and the night seems to quickly fly by.

But if you expect your heart to flutter at every smile Mingyu shoots your way, and for your cheeks to heat up when you accidentally bump your knees against his, then you’re left hanging. This feeling is like the same, strange emptiness you felt the day he agreed to go on the date with you.

Perhaps it could very well be due to how distracted you are, though. Every embarrassing moment, every funny joke—they all turn into stories that you save in your mind to tell Seokmin the next time you see him. It’s all too easy to picture him gawking at some and then laughing until he’s crying at others, and it’d be a fun time. Plus you’re acting natural just like you practiced, and when you tell Seokmin, he’d be so proud of how far you’ve come.

At the end of the night, Mingyu walks you to your dorm and even gives you his jacket to wear when the wind becomes colder than you anticipated. You thank him for a good time, and then you say your goodbyes and that’s that.

Afterwards, life goes back to a time before you ever knew Mingyu or Seokmin.

You find yourself studying in the library with Soonyoung instead of going to any secret spot on campus, and when he asks for all the details about your date, you have nothing to say.

There’s only one person you want to talk to about it, and he’s nowhere to be seen. He doesn't answer your texts, leaves them unopened, and stops posting on social media entirely. You can't even tell if he's purposely avoiding you or if he's just caught up with school work or other things going on in his life.

“You know what’s funny?” Soonyoung abruptly sets down his pencil, the noise of it making you flinch. He’s probably had enough of your endless sighing all throughout the hour that you’ve been at the library.

“No.”

“I haven’t seen you this miserable before,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “And that includes the time you didn’t get into your exchange program and when you failed the midterm in first year.”

“Are you done yet or—”

“That also includes all the times you got ignored and rejected by Mingyu.”

You stop typing. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Y/N, you went on a perfectly good date with him and you’re about to go on a second date, yet you’re here, more miserable than before when he used to barely look at you.”

Yes, you’re willing to admit that you’re miserable. But Soonyoung likes to talk around the point a lot instead of directly addressing it, and you’re tired of trying to figure out just why you feel this way when everything should be perfect by now.

“So?” You heave a sigh. “Soonyoung, what are you trying to say?”

“Y/N.” He turns so that he’s facing you, rolling his chair forward so that he can put his hands on your shoulders like he’s giving you a pep talk. “You’re miserable because you think you’re supposed to like Mingyu, but really, you’ve completely fallen for Seokmin instead. And now you have no idea what to do about it, hence your state of denial.”

You’ve completely fallen for… what? You study Soonyoung’s face, trying to tell if he’s cracking another one of his jokes, but nothing indicates that he is. He’s completely serious which makes it all the stranger why he’s saying you’ve fallen for Seokmin. Because how can it be true? Seokmin is a great friend and you’re really missing him since he’s been avoiding you and all, but having feelings for him? Is that possible?

“Wait, are you for real? You actually didn’t know until I told you just now?”

“Um…” You don’t know what to say to that.

Soonyoung looks at you for a moment longer before smiling and patting your arm. “It’s okay to not know. Take some time to think about it—what is it that you really want? Who do you think of when something good happens to you and you want to share it with someone? And don’t lie; I know it’s not me.”

You give him a weak smile, unable to deny the last bit, and then the two of you part ways to head to your respective classes.

Over the course of the week, you do give it some thought. You slowly go through all of your past interactions with Seokmin, examining them from different angles to try to pinpoint whether you might’ve actually developed feelings for him. And when that doesn’t give you enough information, you take a closer look at the moment Soonyoung inadvertently reminded you that Mingyu was the start of all of this.

Why did you feel so disappointed at the time? Was it really because your brilliant plan had been derailed, which meant no progress with your crush, or was it because Mingyu was simply the excuse to keep meeting up with—

A loud ring cuts through the silence of the room, pulling you out of your thoughts. It’s your alarm. Great, if you don’t head out right now, you’d be late for your date with Mingyu, so you quickly grab your things and leave the house.

This second date has your stomach in knots. You don't know why you agreed to it, but at the same time, you didn’t exactly have a reason not to. Truthfully, you never expected him to ask for a second date, and you didn't expect to see him again. And it’s not that the first date went badly at all; no, it was fun and enjoyable and just an overall good date. But that’s all it was. You could probably be having an even better time with Seokmin—

Seokmin.

Already, Soonyoung’s words are echoing in your mind again. Okay, maybe he really was onto something.

This time your date with Mingyu is at a new cafe a block away from campus. By the time you get there, he's seated at a table and looking as handsome as always with two drinks in front of him.

“Hey,” you greet, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Hey, Y/N.”

It’s far more awkward than the first time. The two of you exchange small talk and you ask about how school is going, what he’s been up to lately, and he tells you he started that show you recommended. You tell him you tried his favourite food stall. Then the conversation dwindles, and you can’t help but feel held back by the thoughts swarming your head. Should you talk about what’s really on your mind? Should you, Y/N, ask him, Kim Mingyu, about his best friend, Lee Seokmin? When you’re supposedly on a date? Should you—

"So... you and Seokmin, huh?” Mingyu says slowly.

Oh.

You can't believe what you're hearing.

“W-what?”

He lets out a sigh, a wistful smile appearing. "Yeah, I know all about it. The two of you weren't exactly subtle."

"What do you mean?"

"The way you were talking about Seokmin that night when we had dinner, and when I saw the two of you in the student center that day. It's pretty obvious that the two of you have a connection."

You open your mouth to deny it, but you can't.

You can't, because it's true. There's no doubt that this is why you've gone through the five stages of grief or whatever just because Seokmin hasn't texted you back in weeks. This is why the first date with Mingyu seemed underwhelming, and why you feel slightly reluctant to even be sitting here with him now. Beyond the initial favour you'd asked of Seokmin, none of this was ever about Mingyu. It has always been about Seokmin.

Soonyoung was right, and it seems like everyone around you could see it perfectly clearly. And now, it all makes perfect sense.

You swallow nervously. “Um, yeah. I guess you could say that.”

“Look, Y/N, I’ll be straightforward and tell you that’s why I asked you to come here today. We had a great time the other night—don’t get me wrong—but I think we both know that’s not where your heart lies.”

You nod, and it’s like the weight in your chest lessens just enough that you can breathe again. That had been part of your worries—how were you supposed to tell him that you’re no longer interested in him? That maybe you never really were in the first place because you’ve fallen for his friend? The last thing you wanted to do was to mess things up between friends, so hearing Mingyu say that this date isn’t a date at all is truly the light at the end of your tunnel.

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you specifically, but he hasn’t been himself lately, and I get the feeling that it has to do with… us.” He grimaces. “I talked to him, but I think this is something you should clarify.”

“Trust me, I’ve been trying. He’s been avoiding me though; he won’t reply to my texts and I can’t seem to find him on campus anywhere.”

Mingyu stares at you for a moment and you can’t tell at all what he’s thinking. “Tonight at seven. Meet him at your usual spot.”

“What?”

“He’ll be there.” He nods firmly, and then stands up. “Go for it, Y/N.”

“I’ll be there. Thanks for letting me know.” You stand up as well, picking up your unfinished drink. “Oh and—Mingyu?”

“Hmm?”

“If you knew that there was something going on between me and Seokmin, why did you agree to the dinner that day in the first place?”

Mingyu hesitates for just a moment as if the question takes him off guard, but then a smile starts to appear. “I thought you wanted to talk to me about him.”

“Ah. Right.” You give him a quick smile, wave, and then leave the cafe.

You’re never asking a crush’s best friend for advice ever again.

You practically count down the hours, staring at the clock on your phone every few minutes.

There’s still no word from Seokmin himself, and your heart pounds like crazy over the fact that you’d have to blindly trust Mingyu and believe that he’ll show up. What should you even expect from this meeting? How could you possibly prepare for it, having no idea what Mingyu has told him?

And what’s more than that is the other thought that pops into your head: what if he doesn’t feel the same way? Sure, everyone may have implied there was something going on between the two of you, but what if his avoidance was because he thought you used him? That the two of you were becoming friends—nothing more—and that you tossed him away the moment Mingyu looked at you? What if all of this is yet another misunderstanding?

Well, you figure it doesn’t matter anyway. You’ll go in there and tell him the truth regardless of whether you get rejected or whether he never wants to see you again.

So you get to the student center and then climb the stairs two at a time, unsure of whether you want to get there faster or slower. Because this time, there’s truly nothing to hide behind. This time when you see him, you’re no longer using Mingyu’s name as your shield or excuse, nor is Seokmin your crush’s best friend.

When you step into the room, you immediately see him curled up on the couch. It’s just as Mingyu said—Seokmin doesn’t look like himself. The usual brightness is missing from his face, seemingly replaced by the dark circles under his eyes, and the smile that he attempts when he sees you is just an attempt.

You gently take a seat at the opposite end of the couch. There was some sort of speech you practiced on your walk here, but after seeing him, everything leaves your mind at once.

“Hey,” you start. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Seokmin nods. “Yeah, um. It’s—sorry. I have no excuse for avoiding you. Just needed some space and some time to think.”

“Yeah, of course.” Then silence. “Seokmin—”

“Um, I—”

You stop. “You can go first.”

He hesitates, but ultimately continues. "I'm assuming your date with Mingyu went well? That things are going well between the two of you?" He doesn't wait for a response and simply nods to himself. "That's good. The two of you are good for each other."

"What?" You're almost worried for him because what exactly did Mingyu tell him? Nothing, judging by the sounds of it, or it’s that Seokmin has decided not to believe any of it. "What are you saying?"

He turns to you. "I know you were trying to get Mingyu to fall for you, but I think it worked on me too."

Oh.

Suddenly, it's like his confession makes everything click. You aren’t the only one who thought it was way too easy to forget Mingyu's name over the course of your hangouts, or to not have him cross your mind entirely until you were reminded. And you’re not the only one who was disappointed when his name was brought up again, or who wasn’t excited about your date with him.

Originally, you might've wanted to get advice from Mingyu's best friend and then developed feelings for said best friend along the way, but now you know that said best friend has also fallen for you.

“Too?” You shake your head. "No, it didn’t work on Mingyu. It never did; he only went on the date because he knew I—” you pause to take a deep breath, “he knew I liked you. He thought I asked him out because I wanted to talk to him about you.”

Still, Seokmin doesn’t say anything.

“But I'm not here to talk about Mingyu. Our hangouts might've started because of him, but we've spent more time forgetting about him than talking about him. And I think I must've spent more time talking about you than about myself during my date with him."

“Why would you do that? What do you mean…” he trails off and then meets your eyes, and you can see the moment it clicks for him. The light in his eyes—it seems to come back gradually like a candle flickering back to life or colour restoring in a monochrome landscape. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yeah, Seokmin. I don’t know when it started to happen, but the whole asking you for advice thing turned into an excuse to see you. I didn’t know it at the time when I asked Mingyu out and just—I freaked out and messed things up.” Your pulse is racing at this point, and it’s hard to swallow but you have to push on and ask one last thing. “So maybe… you can give me some advice on how to win your heart instead?”

“You already have, Y/N,” he says softly, and the warm smile that you missed so much is now back and glowing more than ever.

Then a moment later, as per typical Seokmin behaviour, he bursts into laughter. He laughs like he's finding the whole situation absurd—which it is—and soon, you join in too. You laugh at how Mingyu is the one who unknowingly brought the two of you together, how asking Seokmin for a mere favour has bloomed into an unlikely friendship.

And now, maybe into something more.

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