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yournameyn · 3 years

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Feeling Deeply Chapter 5

Genre: Arranged Marriage Fic. Fluff turning into angst?

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Summary: The story of two deeply feeling nerds who find themselves in an arranged marriage. (Details here). Our OC is called Brishti. It’s a Bengali name meaning rain. Namjoon calls her Rim (short for her pet name, RimJhim which means the pitter-patter of rain). She calls him Joon.

Warnings: NOT THE NAMJOON OF OUR DREAMS. Argument. Fight over tiny discrepancies that turn out to be a huge problem. Domestic violence. Not a happy chapter.

A/N: Have you ever felt this, reader? When you watch something and realise exactly what you need to realise in that moment? I’ve had that so many times - seeing my feelings mirrored in a show. That’s something that I’ve tried to have Brishti feel here. Also, this is how I see the natural progression of this Namjoon, the one who obliged to duty rather than his dreams. It took me a long time to write this but I love what’s come out. Let me know what you think!

Current Chapter: London, late 1963. Love fully blooms between Namjoon and Brishti. And yet, something’s not right. A visit to the ballet and a conversation brings forth realisations. The inklings that Brishti was trying to avoid transform into writing on the wall.

Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The magic about new love isn’t really in romance or even in true intimacy. It’s in how violent new love is… and just how much time it takes us to feel it’s impact.

In the new love between Namjoon and Brishti, everything had been roses and honey, overflowing, swaying in a gentle breeze. They spent every second possible in each other’s arms. They had to tear themselves away from each other when they had to leave home. And even then, it hurt as though they were part of the same cloth.

Brishti had thought about how they had become woven, their souls an ornate tapestry. Namjoon had told her then about a Japanese tradition of weaving that was a sort of meditation and a kind of worship to a god called ‘Musubi’. The disciples say it is like being part of the cosmic tapestry. Being tied to each other.

“Just like we are… I felt a pull toward you and I followed it. I was scared… so full of doubts about who you were and how this was all going to go… I had promised myself that I would fulfil my duty… whatever happened ” Namjoon had said, petting Brishti’s hand gently, “And I… I still can’t believe it… It… you make me feel like I can… trust myself.” Brishti had looked at her genius then and wondered what a strange world it must be that made a man like Namjoon doubt himself, “Always, always trust yourself, Namjoon-ah.” and settled into the crook of his neck.

It was indeed a strange world that caused Namjoon to build an armour around himself. Because ‘London’ and ‘Lonely’ sounded just the same to him. His years alone in this strange place had been unkind, unrelenting. Brishti had been the only softness he had felt in a long long time. Armours built over years can break in an instant, though. For him, it was the moment when he and his wife had crossed the threshold to becoming lovers. High on the magic of new love, he had not realised it.

Sitting across from each other after that fateful evening, Namjoon and Brishti were both wide awake in the early hours of the next morning. Brishti buttoned up the shirt they never fully took off. Namjoon had tickled her with his toes. They propped their feet against the other’s to see just how vast the difference was (he melted seeing how small her feet were and hadn’t stopped playing with them since). Caressing each toe, he remembered something he wanted to ask -

“How did you know what Saranghae is?”

“Mm…” she stretched her arms, “I know what it means…” Brishti said.

“I know you know… from the way you… after I said it… You asked Yoongi about it?” Namjoon cautiously asked about the only other Korean Brishti knew. To his surprise, she nodded no, still denying him any information. Namjoon had to tickle her foot for the answer.

“Okay! Okay! Wait! Pleeeease!” Namjoon stopped and Brishti bent down to the bureau next to her bed and pulled out a textbook - LEARN HANGUL THROUGH ENGLISH. Namjoon looked more shocked than she had expected. “I asked Yoongi about the book-”

“You don’t need to Rim… I’m not learning Bangla, am I?” Namjoon said. He was touched but he didn’t want his love to do anything he couldn’t reciprocate.

“I would have asked you to learn it… if I wrote poetry in my mothertongue...” Brishti said. Namjoon was shocked. She went on, “You really think I didn’t know?”

Namjoon blushed and smiled and flopped over in Brishti’s lap. She brushed his hair as she explained, “You light up at the mention of lyrics and poetry, you keep a notebook by your side at all times, you’re moved by the things that people usually don’t pay attention to… I know you’re a poet, Joonie.”

Namjoon looked up at her and said, “No one has ever called me that…”

Brishti leaned down and kissed her gorgeous husband. “You are... From what I know, I bet all my books that you are a great one... And… I… I would love nothing more than to be part of your world of words, Joonie… It must be strange… to be understood but in a foreign language. If you would let me, I want to understand you in your language… Do you think that’s something maybe--”

He got up and all but jumped on Brishti, pinning her down to the bed with the cutest puppy-yell she had ever heard. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

They both understood that this was a proposal. The truest kind - a gentle request to explore Namjoon’s universe. They would later joke about how she proposed to him after a month of being married. Namjoon was completely delighted by this person with him, his person… one who really saw him.

He pulled her to him saying, “You’re the best part of my world, Rim...” and kissed her.

Each moment of love flowed through the next. When they had to be separated, they couldn’t wait for the next one, their moment again. On weekends they would visit museums and find their favourite paintings and sculpture or their favourite prehistoric relic and animal. Brishti hated the fact that Namjoon had to work overtime to compensate for these weekends and she often voiced how unfair it was.

In response Namjoon would just give her a peck and say, “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” This pricked her but she was too taken by the man before her to pay heed to it.

Namjoon was just about able to keep a straight face at work but everyone around Brishti was acutely aware of how much she loved Namjoon.

At one point, her colleague and best friend, Min Yoongi had yelled at her, “Yhaaaaa! Stop blushing?! It’s just a clock… what could be romantic about a clock?!” Sayuri-san, and she were hanging around Yoongi’s table when Brishti looked at his new flip clock and started blushing.

Brishti laughed along with everyone else but explained, “It’s involuntary… that’s what happens when you’re married to a poet.”

Sayuri-san corrected, “I know too many wives of poets to know that’s not necessarily true… It is true though, when you’re in love with a poet… Go on… tell us how exactly poet Namjoon makes you blush about a clock...”

Brishti blushed even more at that. Yoongi rubbed his arms and demanded, “Tell us because there’s some really weird things coming to my mind… like you guys have an exact time when...”

Brishti stopped his imagination, “No no no… it’s nothing like that… he loves digital clocks... because he loves to watch the time turn to 00:00… zero o’clock he calls it… and on days he feels sad, it’s like zero o’clock is always there to comfort him… like it’s a point when the whole world holds its breath and he can feel happy again… but these days… with me… he said he wants the clock to keep going after 23:59… he wishes time would stretch on… beyond 24:01…”

Yoongi sighed and sat back down, “You’re making me fall in love with Namjoon… ahhh that is beautiful. He should be published...”

“Imagine him saying this directly to you and you might know how I feel… I can’t stop talking about him...”

“Oh, we know. But honestly none of us care… your poet-librarian romance is getting us through our single-ness.” Yoongi reassured her.

The three of them continued to talk about the ways in which Brishti could repay Namjoon’s wordsmithing in graphic ways.

It was that evening, wasn’t it, when Namjoon had enveloped her back in the warmest hug as soon as he’d entered their flat. Brishti was in the kitchen when she heard him enter but hadn’t expected this. He kissed her neck while telling her the good news, “We got our first Korean client today… because of me… Mmmm… Why do you always smell so amazing?”

Brishti turned around and hugged him again, “That’s amazing! Namjoon-ssi! I’m so proud of you!”

“He’s from a wealthy family… so he can actually afford our firm… its not exactly the work I wanted to do--”

“It is a step toward that idea, right? It’s still good work, fighting for justice?” Brishti asked, stopping him from undermining his own work.

Namjoon nodded, “Yeah… He’s a dancer… Park Jimin. All the posh types know him as one of the best dancers in the Royal Ballet. They call him Jim… as if it’s too difficult to say Jimin?” Namjoon shook his head in disapproval. He began helping Brishti with the chopping and continued, “He was born in the UK and trained since he was 5... He got into the Royal Ballet but he’s been passed up to be a principal over and over even though everyone who has seen him dance apparently knows that he’s far far better… So recently he spoke to the director there... and of course the director made a racist slur and asked not to bother him with this again. He can’t even quit and work at another company because of the contract they have him on. There’s a non compete clause… meaning he won’t be able to dance with any other company. That’s all he wants… to be able to get out of that contract… I’m hoping to convince him to press charges on racial discrimination too. We’re not in the 20s anymore.”

When Brishti didn’t respond, Namjoon looked up at her. “That’s horrible… I’m so so glad you’re taking up the case. But please tell me what you ate when you were alone?” He looked down at the carrot he’d been failing to cut.

Namjoon scrunched his nose and admitted, “Canned food mostly.”

Brishti said, “I’m really really glad you’re getting to do work that you are passionate about, Joonie, you deserve it. Now, you should know how to cut a carrot.”

Namjoon pressed up against Brishti’s back. She reached back up to the nape of his neck and made him moan into her. Then… then Namjoon made her forget how to cut carrots.

He had these ways… Namjoon, with his touch, his voice, his languages both spoken and soundless. He was lighting new paths into her self. She loved learning him. Paths she didn’t know existed, that she’d been longing for.

The scars of the loneliness, emptiness that Namjoon had experienced had turned his longings into a kind of starvation. He needed to be nourished and also devoured. Brishti was just the creature to do it. He could feel her warm fingers trace rows of pleasure onto his skin. He felt them bear down and singe when the two of them had to move away from each other. He felt those ropes tug at him as the end of his workday neared. Namjoon closed his eyes each night at her touch, the feeling and fragrance of her body. He felt blooms of intimacy spring up like seedlings out of the soil of his skin. And deeper. In the earth of his soul. So he did the only thing he could. Reciprocate. Namjoon sowed his love, his desire, his need onto her, into her every night.

There were times, though, when she would feel his absence in the middle of the night and see him working in the dim light of a lamp. She knew he had to work hard to do what he wanted but she also saw he had to continually prove himself to people who weren’t even paying attention. The reason they weren’t paying attention was painfully clear to Brishti but she was yet to experience it’s full stab.

Namjoon wanted to shield her from it. He was counting on an armour that didn’t exist anymore to protect himself and his wife… the reason he liked his life again. Whenever she came out and switched on a brighter light, reprimanding him for straining his gorgeous eyes, he saw that it did prick her - this world and the unfairness he had to endure. She would say something small, an almost-complaint that alerted him… against her for some strange reason. She would say something that would be easy to ignore and yet would prick him, like - “I don’t know why they haven’t promoted you yet.” or “Why haven’t they taken up Jimin’s case yet? You’ve worked so hard on it.” Everytime she did that, he would have to pacify himself.

‘I’ve told her so much about the Jimin case… she’s just really invested’ Namjoon thought to himself. Just so he would avoid thinking, ‘I shouldn’t have told her.’

He would have to calm himself, give her a peck and try to convince her to stop worrying. “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” Namjoon would always say.

Then, Brishti smiled as she always did. While trying to understand why that sentence bothered her so much. After almost five months of exploring this wonderful man, some part of him still felt unfamiliar… like it didn’t fit in with the rest. Still, these things take time, she had heard from so many women over the years. Besides, she was blessed with a man far far above the norms. So, how could she prod? These are things Brishti had told herself - until the night she couldn’t stay silent.

The couple was coming up on their fifth month together and Park Jimin had gifted Namjoon a ticket to the final show of the season as a token of gratitude, for having heard his story.

Brishti was nervous about going to this kind of a gathering and had told her husband to meet her there.

She had enlisted the help of Sayuri-san to look appropriate for the event. Her slightly longer hair was clipped and her eyes were kohled. She wore a burgundy knee length fringe-ended dress that she had received from her gracious host, stylist and make-up artist - an inheritance of her brilliant life tucked into the black pearl beading and deco design. It was a big departure from the usual tie-die or band tees and jeans with her baggy coat. She had carried the coat but felt this strange sort of compulsion to stand in the cold air in the noodle strap dress, for him to see her.

She felt butterflies in her stomach and kept fiddling with the coat she had draped over her arm. It was electric when she saw him.

Namjoon looked gorgeous in a tux. All of Brishti’s nerves were soothed just by looking at him. He had brushed his hair back. Tall and dashing - better than any heathcliffe could ever be. And with his reading glasses, he looked like the lead of a romance novella that would make all the women swoon. Indeed she was swooning. Brishti was suddenly warm in the chilly, windy night. And when Namjoon saw her, blood rushed to her cheeks. Everything inside her was running helter skelter in a panic. Brishti felt everything drop in the few moments it took for Namjoon to reach the top of the stairs. Dolled up like this, outside of her element, she felt like an imposter. Some angel needed to be standing in her place. For the first time, feigning beauty, Brishti felt like she wasn’t worthy of her husband.

She was finally able to keep her feelings aside when he reached her.

Namjoon kissed her palm like a gentleman and whispered in her ear, “Let’s go home… I need a private kind of dance…” Brishti blushed. Namjoon put his arm around her and felt the chill that had settled on her skin. “Aren’t you cold? Why didn’t you wear the coat?” Namjoon asked. Brishti just shook her head no and the two of them walked in.

Brishti assumed that the ballet would be a welcome distraction from the storm that brewed within her. She had read up about the show, the piece they were going to perform -

Tchaikovsky’s venerated Swan Lake. The story of a young girl who falls in love with a prince who promises to save her but fails. Ofcourse there were finer nuances to the story but this was the basic plot. As the lights dimmed, Brishti felt pulled in by the music, the eerie beauty of it’s melody played in perfectly with the questions that were swirling around in Brishti’s mind -

Why do I feel wrong?

Is this what Yoongi was talking about? Anxiety…?

Why does Namjoon look so... different?

Why is he so quiet, so… distant…It’s like he’s keeping himself away from me despite being right next to me, arm in arm, like the true Namjoon is somewhere in a glass case? Deep deep beneath whatever this creature is who is next to me?

I’m thinking too much. No. What is this? Why am I feeling this way?

It’s the music… no its not just the music… something is fucking wrong because all I feel like doing is breaking that glass case that’s locked away My Namjoon and presented this fucking imposter. What the hell is going on?!

Brishti barely managed to keep it together. She kept her eyes on stage…

It was like seeing a moving painting being created by invisible hands and the music was the sound of the brushstrokes, amplified. Park Jimin was playing Rothbart, the owl-like magician who curses Odette into a swan until she finds someone who would promise to love her forever. The questions in her mind and the power of the spectacle before her forced her tears to keep flowing.

Namjoon saw Brishti cry and held on to her. But the more he tried to comfort her, the more uneasy she became, the more she coudln’t contain the tears in her eyes.

The curtain fell at the end of Act three when the prince realises he has been tricked. Brishti, somehow, mirrored his grief. The prince was cheated by Rothbart into believing that his daughter, Odile, was Odette. Rothbart relished his plan so despicably it made Brishti’s stomach turn. The prince had already declared to the ballroom full of people his vow to love and marry the maiden by his side - Odile, not Odette. Park Jimin played Rothbart so skillfully, so beautifully that despite being the villain, despite being covered from head to toe, he was the star. Rothbart giggled delightfully as he revealed to the prince that the girl in his arms wasn’t Odette at all. That Odette was waiting for her prince by the lake. The curtain fell as the prince felt the stab of betrayal and rushed to Odette.

Brishti rushed to where she did not know. She wanted to get away from Namjoon, from this feeling that she couldn’t understand, couldn’t explain. She was angry. She wanted to break something. Tears still flowing down her face, she found a corner that was hidden away in darkness. She went in. Brishti sat on the couch there, for what seemed like eternity, breathing heavily. Nothing made sense. It felt like her insides were twisting into each other. Suddenly, though, a door creaked open and out came an angel. A man, glowing, having just freshened up. He saw her, saw her fear and instead of pulling back in shock, approached with a strange kindness. He held her wrist and stayed silent for a moment.

His beauty was also a kindness to her. In that moment, Brishti could breathe a little bit better. He sat down by her knees, on the floor and when he spoke, his voice flowed like a tonic, “First time at the ballet? It’s overwhelming… I know. You’re okay. You are safe. Rothbart is not here. Talk to me… what are you feeling?”

The tears kept flowing. This man was different, she knew he understood what she was feeling like. She felt safe, but not as if she was with a saviour, rather as though she was with another victim.

“What are you feeling…” Park Jimin repeated. The pieces were falling into place in her head. This is Park Jimin, the man who danced as Rothbart. The man who should have danced the Prince. Who should have played Odette and Odile.

“I feel… rage.” Brishti trembled as she spoke. She could breathe again.

“Yes… Rothbart is… evil… I’m sorry-”

Brishti nodded her head no. “At the prince.”

Jimin was surprised. “Let it out. You can scream in here and no one would know.”

Brishti didn’t need another invitation, but her rage wasn’t a scream, it was a whisper - “I want to hit the prince. How could he not now? He couldn’t see that that girl was not Odette? Is he blind? The way she moved, the way she danced… which only means… it means that the prince knew… somewhere he felt doubt but he… He couldn’t fucking trust himself enough?! I don’t know why this is breaking my heart… Why can’t people trust in themselves?! It’s a pathetic fucking excuse and I can’t buy it… I just can’t. Why did the prince...” Her hands covered her face as she wiped her tears. She composed herself.

Jimin pulled out a kerchief. “May I?” Brishti nodded and he dabbed her face with care.

“The prince trusted his sight more than his soul. And now, Odette will die because of it. As always, the woman pays the price.”

“He dies too, you know.”

“What a waste…”

Jimin smiled, “Thank you… for watching the show, for feeling it so much.”

Brishti managed a weak smile, “Thank you.” Jimin stepped away and sat next to her, at a respectable distance. “I’m being lied to.”

Jimin nodded, “I know what that’s like. I feel that rage against the prince too. And still, we must be kind to our liars.”

Brishti clenched her teeth, “Why? Where’s the fairness in that?”

Jimin moves away, in a dejected kind of daze and pours himself a drink, “That’s the biggest lie, fairness. Cruel joke.”

Brishti walked toward the door. “I should go… Thank you.”

Jimin raised his glass to her.

Brishti wore her coat and walked toward the exit. She found Namjoon in a panic and suddenly felt like she could reach him. He looked so relieved to see her. She couldn’t help but feel awash with love as he crashed into her in the warmest hug. It was as if he was the one who was lost.

“Are you okay? Why were you crying?” Namjoon asked her as he stroked her head and held her in the hug for as long as she needed.

“I need to ask you something.” Brishti whispered as she pulled away. They began walking down the stairs of the theatre.

“Änything.” Namjoon replied.

“Your firm… they refused the Jimin case, right?”

Namjoon froze. His jaw locked up. “Let’s go home.”

The rest of the way, neither of them spoke a word. They entered their home in a cold silence. They washed the night off themselves and entered their bedroom, which was completely devoid of the heat and desire that usually filled it right up to the ceiling. What used to feel like an ocean, now felt like a vacuum.

When Namjoon walked in, Brishti reminded him, as kindly as she could,“I said I need to ask you something. You said, ‘anything’.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about it.” Namjoon was cold again. Unfeeling. Unreachable.

Brishti tried her best to be calm… “When would you want to talk about it?”

Namjoon breathed in - “Why? Am I answerable to you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we disagree. I don’t think I am answerable to you. What would you have done if I wouldn’t have told you about it in the first place?”

“I would still be feeling what I’m feeling… I would be even more furious though.”

“Fu- why would you be furious? I have to work there, I lost the account. I’m feeling hurt and disappointed in myself and instead of helping me, you’re angry?! What the hell could you be angry at?!”

“I’m being lied to. I’m being tricked.”

“What?!” the contempt on Namjoon’s face made her head throb. He was angry now.

“There are two Namjoons here. I’m being told there’s only one and--”

“That is some philosophical trash that you learned from one of your books. Real life doesn’t work that way. But how would you know?! You don’t have a real job. You have a hobby. A hobby of stacking books in order. You’re just plain lucky that someone is paying you for your hobby. That’s not a job. You of all people cannot tell me about the things I have to do to keep my job. I have tried my best to be as honest as I can be--”

“As honest as you can --”

“Listen to me!” Namjoon thundered. His loud voice might as well have been a punch. It rang through her body and rattled her bones. She had tears in her eyes but clenched them down as Namjoon continued yelling, “Enough… enough with the fucking tears. What the fuck are you so sad about?! I don’t need you to pity me. I don’t need anyone to feel sad for me. I have tried to be a good man - do you even know how much other men don’t even mention to their wives?! I told you everything. EVERYTHING. And now I’m being punished for it. Time and time again I tried to console you… even though I was the one hurting… I tried to be there for you and tell you… as long as I have --”

Brishti couldn’t take it anymore “Don’t. Say that.” She didn’t yell. Her voice was just above a whisper and yet it sent a chill down Namjoon’s spine. She wiped her tears. “I didn’t ask to be consoled. I was just… curious. If a few questions from me hurt so much maybe you should ask yourself why. I’m not lucky that someone decided to pay me for my hobby. It’s nice to know what you really think of my job. But whatever you think, I created my job. I created my life. I fought to come to london. I fought for the right to earn--”

“Oh please... spare me the feminist lecture...” scoffed Namjoon.

“Sure. Take up Jimin’s case.”

Namjoon felt the burn of white hot rage. He wanted to strangle her. He was so used to touching her… and she was his… in this bedroom, he had made her his. He wasn’t thinking. Namjoon strode toward her and held one massive palm over her mouth and the other on her neck and pinned her to the wall. “YOU WOULDN’T HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THAT IF I DIDN’T TELL YOU.”

It took him a few moments to realise what he was doing. Brishti was shocked and tried to scream but no voice came out. She was trying to get him out of his daze when he finally saw her, saw his Rim, horrified… by him. Namjoon pulled his hands back instantly. He saw a red bruise bloom where his hands were - on her face and on her neck.

“This is how you make your conscience shut up?” Brishti’s voice was hoarse. “You think this has nothing to do with your conscience? With the best part of you? The part that you made me fall in love with? Are you really telling me you don’t know that this is why you can’t write the way you used to… You’re killing my Joon and asking me to stay silent. I can’t.”

The searing anger still hadn’t died and it burst out of him, “Why are we fighting like this… over Jimin… why don’t you take up his case if you fucking love him so much?”

“What do you think I’m doing right now?”

“You… Why are you fighting for him against me?!” It was here that Namjoon realised his armour was gone. The idea of who he is... suddenly vanished. And the one thing that had made him feel safe, like his true self, was slipping away. “You’re saying… just tell me… you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

Brishti did him the only kindness she had left in her, she explained, “Jimin wants to leave but can’t. He stays because he needs to dance. He stays because he cannot get out of his contract. You say you want to help people like Jimin, you roll your eyes at white people who can’t pronounce our names, you feel guilty for asians who have much less than we do… but then you also don’t raise an issue when your boss holds meetings in clubs where people of other races and dogs and women are not allowed. You work overtime for the privilege of weekends… You say you are trying but… as far as I know… you don’t have a non-compete clause in your contract, Namjoon.”

That hit him like an iceberg. Namjoon’s legs gave way and he just sat on the bed.

He watched as Brishti put on her coat and left, covering her bruises with a scarf.

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Chapter 6 - to be posted.

#bts kim namjoon #kim namjoon #forever rain #fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon arranged marriage #namjoon x oc #arranged marriage #slow burn #slow burn fic #fluff fic #bts fanfic #bts #indian oc #red thread fics

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louiseleblancdiggory · 3 years

Text

Dorothea

I can’t believe I’m back! It’s been a little rough these past couple of months but I’m happy to be writing again and hopefully will bring it back to my daily routine! Taylor released a new album so of course I had to write something! I hope you guys enjoy, it’s just a little silly thing.

“We are a failure.”

“We have five Grammys.”

“We are a failure with five Grammys.”

Gavriel snorted at the same time Lorcan threw a piece of paper at Fenrys’s head. Rowan simply sighed, resting his head against the table and letting out a deep groan.

“Why can’t we release the album with twelve songs?” He raised his head, looking at his bandmates. “Every single song we tried to write this past week was absolute shit. I don’t want to shove some lame ass song on our album because my aunt feels like we should have thirteen songs like the last two albums.”

“Yeah, sure.” Fenrys snorted. “Why don’t you go tell Maeve that?”

Vaughan chuckled, putting the drumsticks down and walking to the table where Fenrys, Rowan, and Connall were sitting. Lorcan and Gavriel both sat on the ground nearby, ripping out bad half-finished lyrics from some notebooks.

“We need a vocalist, that’s why he won’t do it.” Vaughan singsonged, sitting by Connall’s side. “We have been trying to write the songs together, why don’t we try something each one of us wrote separately?”

There was a beat of silence. For the five years the band had been together, every single song had been written by all the members. Sometimes two or three of them would do most of the work, but out of their thirty eight songs, there wasn’t one that didn’t have a contribution from all the members. Yeah, they would write their own songs, but it was never really serious or even meant to be used in an album.

And because they weren’t serious or meant to be used in an album, they were either absolute shit or fucking personal.

Rowan held in another groan.

Lorcan shrugged, getting up and sitting by Rowan’s side. Gavriel did the same, sitting on the table head opposite to where Fenrys was.

“Ok, who’s gonna go first?” Gavriel clapped his hands. “Fenrys.”

“Why me?” He squeaked.

“Why not you?” Connall butted in.

“Yeah, why not you?” Vaughan backed his boyfriend.

“Rowan, this is a mutiny against me.” Fenrys turned his head to Rowan, pouting like a child.

Both Rowan and Lorcan smiled sarcastically, and the latter said, “you are not the one in charge. If it was a mutiny, it would be against Rowan.”

“Who asked for the vulture to speak?” Fenrys asked, eyes narrowing at Lorcan.

“Just show us a goddamn song, Fen.” Rowan sighed, rubbing his temples. A few years ago, he had insisted for Gavriel to be the leader of the band. The older man had refused profusely, and Rowan only found out why when he started being the leader.

He was surrounded by adults who had the money and influence of gods but acted like children.

It was like being a mother but without the Mother’s day gifts. No advantages, really.

As instructed, Fenrys presented three songs for the group. And then Vaughan did. And then Connall, Gavriel, and Lorcan.

“I don’t know how to say this politely…” Connall started.

“They are absolute shit.” Lorcan finished.

“Shit is a compliment.” Rowan nodded, letting out a straggled laugh. He scratched the stubble on his cheeks, a small sense of panic rising inside of him. It wasn’t that Rowan was shy— he had let go of his shyness a long time ago—, but that didn’t mean he liked to go around advertising his personal ideas to the world. Some lyrics drafts should remain just that— drafts. Not everything was meant to be heard by everyone. Gathering some of his courage along with the knowledge that an acceptable song was an absolute necessity, he sighed. “I might have something.”

“What is it?” Gavriel said calmly at the same time Lorcan grunted. “You have something and you let us go through the torture of listening to Fenrys’s ideas?”

“You hurt my feelings like that, man.”

Rowan ignored both Lorcan and Fenrys, turning to Gavriel. “It’s about a girl.”

The room was dead silent.

Rowan knew he wasn’t really the dating type, much less the type to write songs about love, but the absolute silence was a little offensive.

“Ok…” Vaughan said, a scary smile on his face. “That came out of nowhere.”

“You can love someone?” Connall asked.

“You can feel emotions?” Fenrys deadpanned after his twin finished his sentence.

Lorcan snorted and Rowan saw Gavriel biting the inside of his cheeks. Absolute regret washed over his body immediately, but it was too late to back down.

Rowan tried to play it cool, keeping any emotions out of his face. He shrugged, opening a notebook and tapping a pen against it. “Not anyone I’ve seen in years. I don’t even remember her real name.”

The Cadre exchanged looks.

“When I was a kid my parents used to send me to this summer camp. From ages six to thirteen there was this girl who also went every single summer. She was a year younger, but we were friends. Barely talked during the rest of the year, maybe exchanged a letter or two.” He continued, eyes skimming through the lyrics in front of him. “Childhood crush and all. I know her name started with an A… Maybe an E? The counselors used to call her Dorothy, and I thought it was Dorothea. Called her that for two months until she corrected me. The nickname stuck between us, so yeah, Dorothea is all I have. I was thirteen when I stopped going, so she was twelve. Probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“Oh, that’s cute… Tragic young love and all.” Fenrys was smiling like an idiot, and Rowan rolled his eyes. He had never talked to anyone about Dorothea, not even his parents, not even when he was a kid. Life at home was shit during the whole year, but the summers? They were for late nights, swimming in the lake, running in the forest. They were sunny, and easy, and the few good memories he had from childhood. And she was in all of those memories— the girl and that fucking dog. Dorothea was the purest thing about his childhood, and he never wanted to have her memory stained by telling about her to his parents or school friends.

“Let me see this.” Vaughan said, taking Rowan’s notebook before Rowan could react. His friend’s pitch black eyes skimmed rapidly through the page, mouth opening slowly. “Holy shit.”

“It’s shit?” Lorcan asked.

“No, I mean holy shit as in this is amazing.” Vaughan looked up, brows raised. He passed the notebook to Gavriel, making both Lorcan and Connall move closer to read it too. “You had this song for two years now according to the date on the edge of the page. Why didn’t you share?”

Rowan cleared his throat, regret just growing more and more. “We write every song together.”

“If every song you write is like this, then we should probably let you take care of this task from now on.” Lorcan said, taking the notebook and throwing it to Fenrys.

Fenrys’s was probably Rowan’s best friend. They knew each other for the longest, and even though Rowan would never admit it out loud, Fenrys was the closest thing he had to a family and his approval was important.

Fen raised his head from the notebook, dark eyes shinning as a huge smile broke his face in half. “We’re recording this. Today.”

Connall and Vaughan laughed, and Lorcan clapped Rowan’s back. “Good job, birdie.”

Rowan didn’t know exactly what he was feeling, but somewhere between absolute fright and excitement could probably describe it.

—————

“Rowan Whitethorn!” A female voice rang through the room, and every member of the Cadre winced.

“Your aunt is gonna kill you.” Connall said, face washed with fear.

Maeve Whitethorn was the scariest woman to ever walk this earth, and so Rowan didn’t think Connall was completely wrong about that.

And yet, when Maeve entered the room she was…

“What the fuck.” Fenrys blurted out.

Smiling?

“She smiles.” Fenrys loudly whispered to Lorcan, receiving a punch to his arm.

“You, my nephew, are a fucking genius.”

“Yeah, ok, what the fuck.” Vaughan asked from the drums.

“What did I do?” Rowan asked cautiously, afraid that his aunt had actually gone insane.

“Dorothea, that’s what you did!”

“People liked the song then?” Gavriel asked from the couch. “It was a filler song, but good to know that’s not forgotten.”

“Oh, you’re not understanding.” Maeve laughed. All the boys’ jaws went slack. “People are eating that song up. And I mean trending everywhere, top in every single chart… Everyone loves Dorothea.”

“But how?” Lorcan frowned. “We didn’t advertise it.”

“Because people love a real life story of love.”

With that comment, Rowan’s body went taunt.

What the fuck.

No one in the band had told anyone what the song was about, nor that it was a real thing. For all the world knew, it was just another song that the band wrote together. And that’s how it should have stayed. Rowan hated being the center of attentions, and hated even more when his personal life was the topic at matter.

Dorothea had been his secret for so long, and he really thought that the song would be a secretive way to tell the story to the world.

If people knew it was real, if people knew anything about it, it was obviously not as secretive as he thought it was gonna be.

Shit, Dorothea wasn’t even her real fucking name. There’s no way anyone could know that.

Unless…

“Wait, she heard the song?” Rowan blurted out, a mix of emotions making his stomach drop. That also wasn’t on his plans.

Fenrys’s eyes widened. “Dorothea came forward?”

“Holy shit.” Vaughan let out a nervous laugh. Connall put a hand over his mouth, and both Lorcan and Gavriel looked at Rowan.

The boys knew how Rowan wanted this song to go. Knew he didn’t want the real story to go around like this. Because when stories went around like this, people would start making theories, and harassing the girl, and just shoving themselves in situations that did not concern them. Rowan loved his fans, loved the world he was in, but he was also the first to admit how brutal it could be. It would only take one slip up, one fact about this girl that the media didn’t like, for the whole world to attack her.

Rowan tried to protect her from his fucked up life during childhood just to throw her to the sharks later on.

And yet, another part of his panic had nothing to do with the media and the fans. It had to do with her. What if she hated the song? What of she didn’t want that story to be told? What if she wished for a calm life where her presence would never be noticed by the media? Rowan couldn’t stop thinking about her reaction, if she had remembered him the first time she listened to it or if it took a while.

He felt like his own body was trying to suffocate itself.

Fuck, he was gonna vomit. Or maybe pass out. Shit maybe even pass out on a pool of his vomit.

Ok, that was disgusting.

“It wasn’t the girl who came forward, it was her roommate. Posted a video online and then boom! Global success.” Maeve said, not even noticing her nephew’s growing panic. “Wait, I’ll show you the video!”

Fenrys grabbed Rowan’s shoulder, sitting by his side on the couch as Maeve plugged her phone to the projector. Lorcan sat between Rowan and Gavriel on the couch, and Connall and Vaughan sat on the ground. All of them looked expectantly at the screen, waiting for the bomb to drop.

He was gonna see her again.

After sixteen years.

Shit, it was getting hot inside that fucking room.

The screen popped up, and a beautiful woman with green eyes and long dark brown hair showed up.

“That’s not her.” Rowan blurted out. She could have dyed her hair, facial expression changed over the years but… That wasn’t the girl he met during the summer. No, he would recognize her eyes anywhere, and they sure as hell weren’t green like his.

Maeve rolled her eyes. “I told you it was her roommate who came forward. Now watch.”

The video started playing, and the strong and excited voice of the smiling woman on the screen started sounding through the speakers. “Ok, so I was driving home the other day, listening to the new album of the Cadre when the song Dorothea came up, right? And I thought that it was a little strange for the Cadre to put a rerecording of a song on the album since they had never done it before.”

The girl started to walk around her apartment, excitement lacing every single word.

“But then I found out that Dorothea is not a rerecording. But that doesn’t make sense, because I was a hundred percent sure I already knew this story. I don’t know any Dorothea, and I sure as hell don’t know Rowan Whitethorn, so it made no sense that I already knew the story being told in the song.” The girl let out a laugh, entering a room inside her apartment. “For days I would listen to that fucking song and keep asking myself why I feel like I know it. It’s not from a book, a movie…”

She started pulling out a box from under the bed, smile widening.

“And so yesterday my roommate asked me to grab an old box of VHS under her bed when I saw this box.” She filmed a huge box in front of her, the lid barely containing all the photos inside. “And that’s when I remembered where I know Dorothea from.”

The girl laughed again, opening the lid and running her hand through the pictures. “I knew the story because she had told me years ago. Dorothea wasn’t her fucking name, it was her nickname.”

As if in slow motion, the brunette took out an old picture from inside the box. Rowan felt all the air leaving his lungs as he stared at it. The picture was a little blurry, but there was no mistaking it. It was eight year old him in swim trunks, his arm over the shoulder of a shorter seven year old blond girl. Her biking was pink and full of frills, her wet blond hair sticking to her shoulders. She was holding a small black puppy, the dog obviously trying to wiggle himself out of the picture. The both stood before the lake, smiling brightly, a bunch of teeth missing. The girl in the video turned the picture, and right there, written in a fading blue pen was what made the song so famous.

Dorothea and Roro and Toto. Summer of 2000.

The girl in the video turned the camera back to her, smile not leaving her lips. “She told me that the nickname was Dorothea because the counselors used to call her Dorothy. As in the Wizard of Oz. The dog’s name was Toto, and so she was Dorothy. But then, he understood it wrong and just called her Dorothea. And…”

“What are you doing in my room?” A sweet, soft, and low voice interrupted whatever the brunette was going to say. She let out a yelp, letting the phone fall.

And the screen went black.

The room was silent for a few minutes after the video was over.

“Well shit.” Fenrys broke the silence. “What are the chances of her being as beautiful as her roommate?”

Lorcan reached behind Rowan to hit Fenrys on the back of his head.

“We should put a gag in his mouth.” Gavriel sighed.

“Oh, kinky.” Fenrys smiled seductively and winked at Gavriel. If it weren’t for the absolute shock raging inside of him, Rowan would have laughed.

“Is there a video of her?” Rowan quietly asked his aunt.

She looked at him for a second too long before nodding. “Just a second, there might be one. She isn’t really one for the cameras, but I do think she showed up in a Halloween video.”

She wasn’t one for the cameras.

Shit, shit, shit.

She wasn’t one for the cameras and Rowan had made her existence global knowledge.

Maeve took a few seconds to try to find the video, smiling again once she found it.

“This is still fucking weird. Your aunt can smile.” Fenrys said, and Rowan was glad for the words. Everything was happening too fast and too slow at the same time, and Fenrys’s stupid comments were a good way of centering himself. Looking at his friend, Rowan realized that Fenrys knew exactly what he was doing. “I thought she had lost the ability when she was, like, five or something.”

“That would imply that Maeve was ever a child.” Vaughan whispered from the ground.

Connall snorted, and Lorcan tried to contain a smirk.

“Here it is!” Maeve announced.

As if the screen was a magnet, all the eyes in the room snapped back to it. They all watched the screen expectantly, and Rowan thought Fenrys was even bouncing on his seat.

A petite woman appeared, clad in a black dress that matched her pitch black hair and eyes. If Rowan wasn’t so distracted, maybe he would have noticed Lorcan’s low, and yet sharp, intake of breath.

The pale girl was in the middle of two taller guys, one with inky black hair with a crown on top of it, sapphire eyes contrasting with the blood red of his cloak, and the other one with golden blond hair under a pirate hat. The three of them stared at a tall woman dressed in what Rowan supposed was a reaper costume. The white blond hair and golden eyes made her perfect for the part.

“He’s a cunt.” The reaper girl said, picking her nails with a scythe Rowan wasn’t absolutely sure was fake. The girl behind the camera— the brunette that recorded the video that exposed the real meaning of the song, Rowan supposed— chuckled as the two other guys exchanged a humorous look.

The petite woman smiled, obviously in agreement with her friend. “He is, but that’s ok. Did Tam end our three year relationship, six hours before Halloween, through the phone? Yes. Were we planning on a couple’s costume and I was left like an idiot wearing an Evie O’Connell costume with no Rick? Yes. But that’s ok because I have…”

“Me.” That same low and soft voice filled the room again, and as if she was always the center of attentions, all heads in the video snapped to her. Even though she wasn’t on camera yet, Rowan could hear the smile in her voice.

The blond guy rolled his eyes. “You have a thing for dramatic entrances, Aelin.”

Aelin.

Her name was Aelin.

“Reason why I live, actually. But come on. Don’t I deserve a dramatic entrance when I look like this? I look rather fucking dashing as Rick O’Connell, don’t I?”

“She does.” The guy with inky black hair nodded towards the blond guy.

“Don’t encourage her.” The other grunted, shaking his head but obviously smiling. “If my cousin’s head grows a little bit more she won’t be able to pass through the door.”

And then, as if time itself had stopped that second, the camera turned to Aelin and all oxygen left the room.

“Fucking shit.” Connall breathed, and Rowan saw Fenrys’s jaw going slack from the corner of his eye.

In his defense, so did Rowan’s.

The woman— Aelin— was exactly what she had just called herself. Fucking dashing.

Golden strawberry hair pulled back into one of those high, terribly made buns, slightly tan skin, and bright blue eyes, Aelin was every inch dashing she claimed to be. The costume was exactly what Brendan Fraser had wore the majority of the movie, and hell if it didn’t fit her perfectly. Aelin had grown to be the most beautiful woman Rowan had ever seen, and he felt his heart doing laps inside his chest just like when he was younger.

Well, fuck.

“If she was Rick O’Connell in the movies I would have probably paid more attention.” Fenrys muttered, dodging another hit from Lorcan. “What?! Look at her. The girl looks like the offspring of an angel and a supermodel.”

Aelin grinned, straight white teeth biting her lower lip. “Thank you, Dorian. And, I don’t need encouragement, Aedion. I am quite capable of being narcissistic on my own.”

The girl with blond white hair chuckled. “You were supposed to be a reaper with me.”

Aelin fake pouted. “Elide, my dearest cousin,” Aelin said pointedly, eyes narrowing at Aedion. Elide, the petite girl dressed as Evie, bit her cheeks to keep a smile in. “Needed me. Put a crown on top of your pretty head and do a couple’s costume with your boyfriend, Manon.”

Dorian sighed. “I tried convincing her.”

Manon simply crossed her arms. “I don’t do couple’s costume.”

Aelin shrugged nonchalantly. “Pity.”

And then, much to Rowan’s absolute panic and fascination, Aelin turned directly to the camera. She was obviously going to talk to the girl recording, but Rowan could barely hear the words as her full face came into view. Aelin was beautiful, but Aelin staring straight at you? Breathtaking.

“Don’t you think it’s a pity, Lys?” Aelin asked innocently, but a smirk graced her lips.

The smile in Lys’s voice was obvious. “Oh, yes. A pity.”

Aelin smiled, turning to Elide with a raised brow. Her cousin gave a less vicious version of Aelin’s smile. “Such a pity.”

It was obviously some inside joke, because Manon grunted, rolling her eyes. “Are we going or not?”

Aelin rich laugh drowned the room before the video ended.

“Well.” Vaughan said after a few beats of silence.

“Well.” Gavriel agreed.

“Well.” Another voice came from the door, and Rowan had to keep a displeased grunt in as Erawan walked into the room. The man was smiling sarcastically, eyeing the frozen image on the screen hungrily. Aelin had thrown her head back, mouth half open as she laughed. “Would you be pissed if I asked her hand in marriage, Rowan? Quite a beautiful girl, your Dorothea.”

Rowan would have gotten up and punched Erawan if Fenrys hadn’t literally sat on his lap before he could do anything. His friend turned to Erawan with a smile on his lips. “Unfortunately, Ewew, I believe the lady in question must prefer to stick to humans. She doesn’t really look like the I-do-demons type.”

Despite the obvious tension in the room, Connall took out his phone and took a picture of Fenrys sitting on Rowan’s lap. Lorcan had his arm behind both Gavriel and Rowan, and Vaughan was sitting in between Rowan and Lorcan’s leg. “You guys look like a strange ass family. This is gonna be this year’s Christmas card. I’ll photoshop myself in.”

Lorcan snorted, shaking his head before looking at Erawan. “Let’s leave the girl out of this, alright? If any of us wanted to use her for advertisement, we would have contacted her ourselves.”

“I’m your PR.” Erawan smiled. He was, a fact that the whole Cadre regretted. All pf them waited excitedly for the day Erawan’s contract expired.

Maeve was hard and cold, Erawan was a straight up asshole. Not even his aunt could put up with him for long.

“A very unfortunate fact you never let us forget, Earwax.” Fenrys said, nodding diplomatically. “Very, very unfortunate.”

“I don’t want her involved in any of this shit.” Rowan finally said something, voice low and threatening. Just the thought of throwing his childhood friends to the wolves that surrounded his life made his stomach turn. “You are my PR, so do your job. Create a distraction, release some rerecording, book us some interviews… I don’t care, but I want the focus away from her. I don’t want her involved in anything, Erawan. I mean it.”

The room was silent, tension threatening to suffocate anyone who breathed deep enough.

To Rowan’s surprise, and some gratefulness, Maeve took a step forward. She unplugged her phone from the projector, and Aelin’s image disappeared. “I believe it’s better if we keep the girl out of this. She’s very low profile, private accounts on both Twitter and Instagram. Dragging her into spotlight might not be a good option, specially since we don’t know how she behaves, what it would do to the image of the band. We have a love story, let the fans speculate, do some theories. Everything will die down in a month and she’ll be able to continue with her life.”

For all her harshness, all her coldness, Maeve wasn’t a bad aunt. She started taking care of Rowan when he was fifteen, and although they never had a close relationship, Maeve knew how to help him whenever he really needed it. It was the reason why he asked her to be the band manager, despite her obvious dislike of the human race. She was smart, cunning, and, at that moment, was using both qualities to keep Aelin out of what would become a huge mess.

“If we bring her in, there is nothing to terrorize. Her personality will be real, not something fans can stipulate and mold to their liking. She’s young and private, throwing her to the media would be a carnage. Leave Aelin out of this.” Gavriel tried to resonate with Erawan, voice low and calm as always.

Erawan sat on a table, a fake hurt expression overtaking his features as he sighed. “If only you had told me that before.”

The pit inside Rowan’s stomach grew.

“Before what.” Vaughan grunted.

“Before I contacted the girl.” Erawan smiled, as Rowan felt all the oxygen leave the room. He stared straight into Rowan’s eyes, a cruel smile overtaking his lips. “Would you like to see your childhood friend again, Whitethorn?”

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sketchguk · 4 years

Text

lover to lean on; pjm

➳ pairing: neighbor!jimin x florist!reader

➳ genre: neighbor AU, flower shop AU, smut, fluff, angst

➳ wc: 20k

➳ synopsis: for months, you can hear your no face neighbor and his ‘girlfriend’ singing and dancing and laughing and falling in love. above all, you can hear their bed banging against your shared wall, and they won’t ever let you sleep. you’d much rather stay up at night worrying about your own problems, like the weight of an unrequited crush, so of course you’re bitterly single. but one day, the apartment is radio silent. and one day slowly turns into one week and then into an immeasurable amount of time since you’ve heard his laugh. so on valentine’s day, when you’re missing it the most, you beg your neighbor to open up to you with cookies in one hand and two broken hearts in the other.

➳ warnings: explicit language, pining, unrequited love 🤔, accidental voyeurism, unhealthy eating/sleeping habits, praise kink, body worship, nipple play, fingering, oral (f receiving), handjobs, penetration, fluffy sex

➳ a/n: oops, I uploaded this later than I expected because the word count really got me. anyways, this fic is inspired by the song call me by keshi x rainlord. go give it a listen!

Wake up and smell the roses.

That would be a great philosophy for life if you didn’t have to wake up to the sound of sex at 2 in the goddamn morning.

Perhaps it’s your fault for not checking on the thickness of the drywall prior to moving in, but it wasn’t exactly the first concern that came to mind when touring the flat. Now, it’s more of a personal problem than anything: you being bitter about not having sex while your neighbor and his girlfriend are going at it like rabbits 5 feet away from you. It’s not a very valid complaint to bring up to your landlord. He’d probably tell you to suck it up and get laid.

And he’s right.

Besides, it’s not so bad most days. You hardly even notice the sound of running water through the rusty pipelines every morning or the whizzing of the ancient radiator on cold nights. In fact, you welcome it. It’s become part of the rustic building’s old-school, pre-historic charm.

That, you can get behind.

But one thing is for sure. You’re never going to learn to appreciate the strangled garble of a morning blowjob in the steamy showers or the banging of the bedpost against the paper thin walls when you’re in desperate need of some beauty sleep, well deep in a state of REM.

It’s anything but charming.

The 3 inch thick divider between you and your not-so-considerate neighbor does absolutely nothing to drown out the soft moans and hard grunts. You can hear them loud and clear through the dead of night as if they’re right beside you.

“My god,” you sigh, rolling around your bed restlessly. Your hand blindly palms at the sheets in search of the pillow that rests beside you, placing it over your face and sandwiching yourself between the cushions. If you can’t kill your neighbor, you might as well suffocate yourself first to avoid incrimination, shamefully persecuted for third degree murder.

A frustrated groan falls from your lips, but it’s stifled against the buffer. The banging stops almost immediately.

“Shit,” you hear from the other side.

Did he come? Is it over?

You pray, hold your breath, and lie still as if you’re the one caught red-handed. But you’re not a voyeur. At least not on purpose.

It isn’t your fault for being a light sleeper because the only thing to blame is the flimsy partition your landlord dare considers a wall. If you could have it any other way, you would. This is far from ideal granted that you didn’t even ask for any of this, but it’s far too late to get a refund.

Lately, you’ve been spending your nights muting out vulgar dirty talk, the occasional squelches, and the obscene skin slapping on skin. Over time, you’ve come to know your neighbor on a much more intimate level than you would have liked despite never seeing him around. Like the fact that he thrives off of edge play and praise kinks. Yeah, it’s probably for the best that his identity is kept a secret otherwise you wouldn’t ever be able to look him in the eyes again with the knowledge that you have stowed away in the crevasses of your brainー knowledge you would prefer to forget. You don’t even know his name, but you’re long past the point of being acquainted with one another, so it would pretty be awkward to ask for it now. All you know is that he’s stuck in his own bubble, too blinded by love and lust to even consider his poor neighbor.

Most nights, you even make the effort to stumble through your cluttered, moonlit studio apartment in search of your cheap headphones that usually dangle precariously over the edge of your desk. You’ve made a mental note to invest in some earplugs and a more effective set of headphones too.

Truly, you’re not the type to invade one’s privacy. You have nothing to be sorry about because you respect your neighbor, his girlfriend, and their sexy time. If anything, they should be the ones apologizing for keeping you awake for three consecutive nights. No less on a Tuesday.

But perhaps the act is already done and you can let bygones be bygones. Maybe he’s already come, and as unfortunate as that may be for his girlfriend, the chances are he's low on stamina tonight. The vivace metronomic thuds against your shared wall would suggest he was going pretty hard at it too. Not that it’s any of your business. You’re happy that your neighbor is so in love, and that he can have sex all day, all night and fall into the comfort of his lover’s arms, unlike you. You’re not bitter.

Not at all.

You don’t mean to get invested in his relationship, but it’s just that tonight, he finished rather early as opposed to the hour it usually takes him to climaxー foreplay and edge play and all. You don’t keep track of the time per se. That’d be a little creepy, but it’s hard not to do so when you’re losing out on a precious hour of sleep each night. Especially when you’re stuck in your own overactive imagination, wondering how good his stroke game is and what type of lingerie he’s intoー

“Sorry!”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Then the realization hits you momentarily.

He’s talking to you.

They must have heard you groaning through the stupid, thin walls, and therefore, you’re responsible for this very awkward exchange.

Your grip on the pillow loosens as you lift it over your head.

“It’s okay!” Your voice cracks with a heightened tone, “Just make sure you use protection!” The cringe settles into the pit of your stomach as soon as you respond. You squeeze your eyes shut and mentally facepalm yourself. You should have left it alone, but your cursed mouth moves way faster than your thoughts.

The couple whispers to one another, but it’s hushed and hurried. Faint and hard to decipher. Angry, even. The wall must be really selective on what it chooses to mute out which is absolutely perfect when you actually want to know what’s happening on the other side.

However, moments after, you can still hear the rustle of sheets and the patter of footstepsー two pairs. Even the harsh close of the door and the soft turning of the deadbolt, a resounding click that could be heard if you were to listen close enough.

Once again, there’s a shuffle of feet that skid across the hardwoodー one pair. A few creaks echo from the aged floorboards. And then there’s a squeak from the bed slat, a heavy mass pressing on the mattress.

You sit in silence with eyes wide open as you trap air into your lungs in fear of breathing out. Correction, in fear of your neighbor making comments on your rude interruption. If you could pretend that you’re asleep, maybe the problem will disappear into the night.

But it doesn’t because it never works that way.

Moonlight filters through the pane glass windows, right between the cracks of your curtain. It illuminates your face and keeps you awake longer than you need to be. You manage to let out the breath you’ve been holding when something else breaks the silence.

You can hear it faintly. The soft hum of an unfamiliar tune before the soft outbreak of vocals. The song is bitter, but the voice is sweet.

Your neighbor has gotten into the habit of singing whether it be at dawn or dusk, yet you can never complain given his velvety voice. Sometimes it’s accompanied by the strum of an acoustic guitar or the tap of an electronic keyboard. But one thing that never changes is his love for the same old bubble gum pop music that’s rinsed and repeated on the radio. Nothing but love on the brain. Mushy lyrics that bear no meaning to you, and frankly, to anyone who’s painfully single and/or heartbroken.

You would have expected nothing less from this man though. His taste in music is a given. Most days, you can physically feel his warmth and kindness based on the dulcet timbre of his voice. Although you’ll never care to admit it to him, it helps you fall asleep on nights when you’re drained from work. They’re comforting songs that warm your heart, especially because he’s singing such sincere lyrics about his girlfriend.

His love for her is pure, and it’s disgustingly cute.

No matter how many times you try to convince yourself that you’re happy for the lovely couple while internally cringing during their late night endeavors, you’re wondering if you’re subconsciously longing for a relationship just like theirs.

But you’d be crazy not to dream about that kind of love story. One in which the guy cooks a meal for you at the end of every night, served alongside a hot cup of peppermint tea to help you sleep better. In which he runs a bath for you, flower petals, candles, soap suds, and the whole shebang, only to hop right in behind you. Someone to keep you company while giving you a back massage, working on the hard-to-reach knots that line your shoulder blade after a hard work day. Of course at his own volition, never having to be asked to do so.

Perhaps you’re more invested in your neighbor’s picture perfect relationship than you thought, knowing all these little, intimate details no one else should know. But once again, the thin wall is to blame. You’re not an eavesdropper. You’re just a hopelessly hopeless romantic who needs to wake up and smell the damn roses.

Because apparently, not every relationship is as perfect as it seems.

“Everything okay?” You don’t know why you open your mouth, but you do, and you can’t take it back. He’s long since stopped singing, but the residual silence is louder than the gentle voice that once filled the space.

He sighs deeply. The frustration is unmistakable, and you regret ever saying anything.

“Yeah… Just trouble in paradise.” He chuckles dryly, but there’s a tinge of sadness to it.

The room is quiet again. You debate with yourself, wondering if you should hash it out with him or go to fucking bed knowing that you have a 7 am shift tomorrow.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The kindness of your heart outweighs all else, but you cross your fingers and secretly hope that his answer is no just so you can finally get some shut-eye.

“Uhm… I wouldn’t want to bother you.” His voice wavers. He sounds tired, but maybe it’s the exhaustion from navigating the rocky waters of a relationship. You’ve been there before.

Everyone’s been there before.

Your eyes are closed, and just when you think you can go back to bed, your mind and heart betray you.

“I wouldn’t be bothered,” you tell him, “I’m already awake too.”

His chest rumbles with a true chuckle this time. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’m probably gonna invest in some ear plugs tomorrow,” you quip, waving it off.

“You really don’t have to,” he deadpans. There’s a pregnant pause, and you’re left confused. He continues with a shaky breath, “I’m not sure we’ll be back together after this.”

Now you’re even more confused. Were they not just ravaging one another moments ago?

“Valentine's Day is coming up next Friday…” you muse. “You could still win her back, you know?”

The radiator whirs in the background. It’s silent.

“Do you love her?” You query, thumbing the pilled edges of your blanket.

“That’s a loaded question.”

Now it’s your turn to stay silent.

“I think I do,” he starts. His voice is rough. “Love her— I mean.” He falters in uncertainty. “Sorry, I’ve never admitted it to myself before.”

“That’s okay.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but the situation is totally out of your hands. You don’t even know the full picture, yet it somehow feels like you’re on the other side of the breakup even though you’re just sitting in the audience, watching, or rather hearing, the drama unfold.

Your fingers interlock with one another, resting over your chest as you lie flat on your back. The heavy weight of your heart sinks lower into your stomach. Maybe love isn’t real, or maybe it’s not meant for people like you and him. Or is it just some misconstrued concept jumbled up in your brain? Some romanticized notion you’ve only ever dreamed about or seen in movies and read in fanfiction?

You gulp, pondering over how things could possibly go wrong in their seemingly perfect relationship. Well, there are millions of reasons, but maybe you’ve only ever heard the good times roll. Days when they’re frolicking in a meadow of sunshine and nights when they’re singing and dancing and laughing, head over heels in love, and everything is just peachy perfect. Maybe the bad and the dirty have yet to expose itself to you, still hidden behind an extra layer of stucco drywall and eggshell paint coatings. No matter how many times you bitch about them, the innermost part of you is still rooting for the couple you’ve had the displeasure of listening to have sex every night. But it’s always worth it, or so you think, for the sake of them being in a good place. To be undoubtedly quote unquote in love—

“Have you ever been in love?” It surprises you that he’s the one asking instead of the other way around.

You stare blankly at the ceiling with a racing heart. Biting your lip, you speculate whether or not you should reveal such intimate details about your life to a total stranger.

“Nope,” you shake your head. He can’t see you, but you hope that your response is convincing enough.

“Would you want to?”

You can’t help but scoff. “Yeah, what kind of question is that?”

“You’re right, it was stupid.” He chuckles. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you warn him, “You don’t have to.”

“Sorr—”

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll personally come over and flick you on the forehead,” you say, reprimanding him.

His laughter is even sweeter than his voice. “Harsh. But nice? I guess?”

That’s the perfect description for someone who works in the service industry, which unfortunately, you do.

“It’s for your own good,” you suggest, nodding your head in self indulgent pleasure. Kind of like how avoiding love is for your own good.

The silence quickly settles in, as does the existential dread. Your eyes shift around to the empty apartment before you, and you soon realize that you’re painfully alone.

The radiator goes off again and the clock ticks perpetually. The moment escapes you.

His voice fills up the room. “Can I ask how you’re doing?”

The corner of your lips curl up in a fond smile. You exhale a deep sigh, one of contemplation. “I’m okay… Just... learning how to deal with unrequited love.”

“Harsh,” he echoes back.

“Yeah.” You curl up on your side, sighing and reaching for a pillow to spoon.

“Want to talk about it?”

You gnaw on your lip. It’s a bad habit to have. “There’s not much to talk about. It’s just some guy who always walks in at work. We make small talk, flirt a little bit, and then he leaves until the next day.” A highlight reel flashes before you, and you tug on your blanket, nuzzling into the warm fabric that offers you some semblance of comfort against the outside world as you dig your nose into the soft linen.

“How do you know he doesn’t like you?”

You shrug to yourself. “It’s just a feeling.”

You think the conversation is over at this point. Moments go by until your ears perk up at the faint sound of his voice. “You should ask him out.”

Your neighbor surely seems to enjoy making a fool out of you. It’s a nice thought to have though. To think that you have the confidence to ask a guy out. The guy you’re crushing on, no less.

You satiate your neighbor anyways just to entertain the idea a little longer and give him a little push towards his own love story. “Only if you make amends with your girlfriend though.”

“Girlfriend? Oh— no, she’s not my girlfriend,” he says in defense.

You’re perplexed. “Wh-? She’s not?”

“No... uh, just friends with benefits,” he confesses with a cough.

Flashbacks start to go off in your head as you try to connect the dots like some mathematical formula. Is love actually an illusion? Maybe love knows no labels, but a small part of you still wants to believe that they’re wholeheartedly in love and on the verge of marriage or something. But that delusion instantaneously bursts into dust and ashes, confirmed by none other.

“Hey, I’m kind of tired, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? I’ll make it right with her so long you talk to the guy.” He lets out a huff. “Don’t let him miss out on a good thing because of the what ifs.”

Comfort washes over you at the sound of his advice. In a way, he’s right. Maybe it’s time that you put yourself out there in spite of the possibilities. Even if it’s utterly terrifying.

“Goodnight,” you mumble back, wrapping your arms securely around the pillow.

He hears you loud and clear, “Goodnight. Thanks for the talk.”

He knocks out soon after that, but it’s hard for you to sleep when you’ve got nothing but love on the brain.

Waking up is hell, especially when you’re running on nothing but 0 hours of sleep and a single cup of black coffee. The only thing that makes the fatigue worth it is the peaceful lull at sunrise and the absence of your noisy neighbor’s daily blowjob. It’s as if some higher power read your mind and decided that you’re worth the divine intervention just for that one fleeting moment of jubilation.

But just like the law of gravity, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, and your contract with the universe calls for some cosmic karma. It’s like you’re being punished because you can never seem to catch a break.

Work is unusually hectic, but with Valentine’s Day around the corner, it’s expected. If Black Friday is the worst nightmare for every retail worker, one can imagine a florist’s week leading up to Single’s Awareness Day, or much less commonly referred to as “A Shallow, Capitalistic Attempt to Buy Affection Day.”

Despite owning a flower shop, you still stand firmly against Valentine’s Day and all that it represents. Maybe you’re spiteful because you’re pitifully single and surrounded by lovey dovey mush at every single corner. But as of right now, it has more to do with the extra workload that lies at your feet.

Not only do you have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to open shop and prepare for the deliveries, but you also have to cut and process flowers, organize dozens of overnight orders, and arrange bouquets for the day’s purchases, all before 9am. The to-do list is endless, and not to mention, the number of calls you’ve picked up in the last hour alone has already backed you up on a number of orders. It’s stressful and incredibly time consuming to say the least.

By 10am, you’re ready to call it quits, but you constantly remind yourself that this job is your only source of income, and therefore, you have to barrel through with a bright and shining customer service smile on your face.

At this point, you really wish you did smother yourself with your pillow last night.

But the only thing that keeps your sanity in tact after the morning rush is the chance to make arrangements for the front display. It’s therapeutic to pick and choose foliage, sprucing them into beautiful pieces of art for passersby to enjoy. You’re grateful for the scent of seeded eucalyptus and baby’s breath which is remedial to your burgeoning headache. Even the sight of your favorite carnation is enough to ease the pounding pain against your skull.

However, making arrangements isn’t all sunshine and flowers despite popular belief. The worst part about it is the heavy lifting. It’s labor intensive to pick up large plants like the full sized leatherleaf fern in the back room, which is now carefully lodged into a concoction of gardening soil, compost, mulch, and active charcoal. But if nobody else is going to do it, you’re going to have to do it alone.

Lifting the hefty plant isn’t difficult to begin with, but it progressively becomes taxing when you have to carry it to the front of the store. As you emerge from the back door, the bell of the entrance chimes, signifying a customer’s presence.

You can hear him before you can even see him.

“Good morning!”

You nearly jolt at the sound of his chipper voice. Of course Jimin had to walk in at the peak moment of you struggling, looking like a disheveled mess with soil accumulated in your hair like a burrowed nest. You just hope and pray that it’s not smeared across your forehead like Simba.

Out of pure embarrassment, you hold the pot higher to hide your burning cheeks behind the plant despite your arms giving out. Would all of your problems disappear if you act like you’re not there? Once again, of course not, because he spots you in an instant, and you’re just not fated to have the good things in life.

He calls out your name before stopping to place his things down at the table and rushing over to you, “Here, let me help you with that.”

You have an ironclad grip on that ceramic pot, holding on to it as if it’s life or death. “No, it’s okay, I got it,” you say out of pure, frantic determination.

“Don’t be silly, let me.” He reaches for the bottom of the earthenware. His hand grazes over yours before you can pull away, shifting the responsibility onto him.

You offer him a grateful smile that extends your eyes, and he sends one back your way.

“Where do you want it?” He asks. You can’t even get a word in before he turns on his heels and makes space for you through the narrow aisle.

Leading the way, you show him the spot you’ve marked for the fern to hopefully reside for the next 24 hours. “Here’s good,” you tell him, pointing to the empty tile.

Jimin bends down and gently places the plant into its new home. Then he reaches into his messenger bag, pulling out a packet of tissues before gravitating towards the spray bottle.

“I’m a big girl, you know? I could do it myself,” you whine with a slight pout.

He grips on your right shoulder, and you’re locked in place. “I know, but I want to help,” he says with the utmost care, “And you can ask me for help whenever you need it, you know?” Jimin smiles at you, and his eyes lower into crescent moon shapes, the corners slightly creasing. Before you know it, there’s a cool sensation on your forehead. The tissue in his hand is thoroughly saturated and now damp against your skin. You recoil on contact and reach for Jimin’s wrist, ready to yell at him for the lack of warning.

“Hey!”

“Stay still, you have soil on you,” he alerts with sharp eyes.

You let go of his wrist and give in to his kind gesture, murmuring out a “fine”.

While he concentrates on cleaning you up, you can’t help but look up and lock your eyes on his. You swear you could spontaneously combust and astral project from the intensity of his stare. His close proximity makes you heat up, so you’re forced to avert your eyes elsewhere out of pure intimidation. Your line of sight meets his lips, and you’re stuck in place, staring at them. They’re so pink and plush, and his tongue even pokes out a little like a sleepy kitten with slack jaw. Most of all, they’re right there in front of you, and if you could just lean in a little more, you’d be this closeー

“All clean!” He says with cheer, tapping your shoulder.

He turns around in search of the dustbin, and you shake yourself out of your own daydream before he can catch sight of you.

You laugh it off and offer him a toothy smile, “If you really want to help, you could have gotten me a cup of coffee.”

“You’re making demands now, huh?” He asks.

“It’s more like a suggestion than anything,” you teasingly yell from the back room, grabbing the remaining flowers for the display. Meanwhile, Jimin lingers behind in the main room, admiring the freshly cut flowers laid out on the counter ready to be made into floral arrangements.

You manage to recompose yourself from that one moment of weakness by taking a glance over at the cute doodles of artwork that line your office wall. They’re little bits of happiness that keep you calm and remind you that there’s light in your life, and he’s standing in the other room waiting for you to pop a very important question.

Upon grabbing the necessary items, you make your way back into the store. You stop immediately in your tracks, nearly colliding into a solid figure at the sharp turn of the doorway. Your heart almost stops, but you shudder away before you could tip yourself over.

Jimin stands in front of you with his hand extended out, clenching onto a steaming, white paper cup.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of me and coffee now,” he laughs, reaching out once again, “Only one of us bites.”

“That’s for me?” You ask incredulously.

He nods his head, “Yeah, of course, silly.”

You take the drink from his hands, and before you can thank him, he chimes in. “It’s just how you like it. Black and full of caffeine.”

You press your lips up against the cup, taking a sip and humming in satisfaction at the drops of heaven. “Thanks, but why? And how’d you know my coffee order? Don’t get me wrong, this is really nice, but…”

“I saw how dead you looked yesterday,” he justifies cutting you off before you can ramble on. Honest, but harsh.

You put the cup back on the counter and continue with your task at hand, and he trails behind you.

“Thanks, that’s what every girl wants to hear,” you banter with all the sarcasm you can muster, pulling at the flower stems despite them already being placed exactly where you want them.

“Girls like it when guys pay attention to the little details, don’t they?” He asks with a gleam in his irises.

You look up at him briefly before averting his eyes and wiping clean the leaves on a near fiddle leaf tree, spraying food soil at its roots.

“Love it,” you gulp wryly.

Jimin takes note of how seemingly busy you are, so he walks around the shop, examining the new inventory of flowers. After making your round through the store, watering all the plants that need to be watered, you return to the disembodied zinnia on the counter, waiting to be arranged.

The silence is refreshing until it isn’t.

“Is the coffee good?” He queries.

“Huh?” You stop what you’re doing to casually glance his way. His back is turned to you, but he seems overly invested in the rose display.

“The coffee,” he repeats, back still turned.

You look at the untouched cup at the edge of the table and smile to yourself. You didn’t notice it before, but there’s a red doodle that contrasts against the white paper cup, no doubt customized by Jimin himself. It’s hard to pick out what it is exactly, but you’d recognize the flowers of God any day. The ruffled petals and thin, straight stem are simply unmistakable.

“Oh, yeah. It’s good,” you answer politely.

“What’s your favorite kind of flower?” He asks curiously as if he’s playing a game of 21 questions. It’s a question you’ve answered numerous times before, but facts like these can easily slip through someone’s mind.

“Easy, carnations,” you respond without any hesitation, pointing at the display in the right corner of the store when he turns around to look at you. He makes his way to the stand, eyeing the flowers.

“They’re pretty,” he comments, pulling out one of the bouquets to examine as if he didn’t already know.

You hum, and maybe the exhaustion is evident in your voice and your oddly scarce exchange of pleasantries.

Jimin carries on with the small talk anyways. “You’ve been sleeping okay?”

You snip away at the hard, green stems, tossing them into the trash beside you. Shrugging, you mindlessly answer. “Yeah, as much as a florist can during Valentine’s week.” You snicker with good spirit.

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t rest well,” he scolds you all in good faith, eyes now scanning the small assortment of cards. You hum in affirmation.

If anything, he should be telling that to your noisy neighbor who refuses to let you get a wink of sleep.

A creak rings through the air as Jimin rotates the card stand, thumbing through the variety. “Do you have plans for Valentine’s Day by the way?”

You can feel your hands clam up as they stop fiddling with the lemon leaves. Your heartbeat picks up, and you’re left winded by the question. You hide behind the hesitation, nervous as to where this may lead. How could you possibly play it cool when your crush asks you whether or not you’re busy on arguably the most romantic holiday of the year?

Play it cool because remember, you loathe Valentine’s Day.

Your hands fumble as you pick up the lemon leaves again, snipping at the branches nonchalantly. “Uh, no, not really, you?” you gulp. Your eyes are distracted, too fixed on the greenery.

But you look up the moment Jimin approaches the counter with flowers in one hand and a card in another.

“Oh, who are these for?” you feign innocence in your voice as you reach for the brown kraft paper and the roll of red ribbon.

Jimin scratches the back of his neck, hesitating. “My girlfriend,” he mumbles, but it’s loud and clear, audible enough for you to apprehend like an echo in you ear.

“I don’t have much planned yet, but we’re probably going to grab dinner on Friday,” he shrugs with hands burrowed in his pockets. He shifts his weight on the balls of his feet, eyes focused on the gray specks of the ceramic tiles beneath him. “Something casual. I’m not really huge on the whole Valentine’s Day thing.”

It seems like every man in your life paints you like a giant fool destined for humiliation. Of course the hopelessly hopeless romantic within you deluded yourself into believing that some Prince Charming would visit your flower shop in anticipation of seeing you. Of course the flowers that he buys everyday has to go somewhere, you just never expected that each and every morning at the crack of dawn, the flowers you carefully hand-pick and wrap with unconditional love would be sent off to his girlfriend.

Of course you’re a huge idiot who isn’t destined for love.

It almost hurts to plaster the tight lipped smile on your face when your heart is prickled with thorns like the roses in your hands.

You lick your lips and painfully gulp the spit down your dry throat before you open your mouth again.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

You pause. “You can’t give these to your girlfriend”

His eyebrows furrow and his hands run through his hair. “What do you mean?”

“They’re white roses.”

“So? She likes white flowers.” He doesn’t seem to get the point.

You almost chuckle in his face, and you would have if your heart didn’t hurt so damn much. So you refrain. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that white flowers are meant for funerals?”

His cheeks are dusted with a pink blush. He shakes his head no. “Uh, what do you suggest I give her then?”

You sigh, looking at the hopeless man in front of you. “Do you love her?” Not even a second goes by before you ramble, not very eager to hear the answer. “You could uh- give her that fern you helped me carry earlier.” You walk back to the front display, keeping a safe distance to hide your woe, extending your arms out like a game show host revealing what’s hidden behind door #1. (Hint: it’s your heart).

“Call it your love fern?” you shrug, laughing it off.

“I think a bouquet is fine.” Jimin staggers behind you, checking out the other flower displays, opting for door #2. “How about the carnations you mentioned?” He pulls out a bouquet of variegated carnations painted with pink and red tips. “These are nice, don’t you think?” He looks at you curiously with doe eyes in await of your approval.

Your mouth opens to interject, ready to digress into another lesson on the history of variegated carnations, but you bite your tongue back.

Jimin spots your reluctance, but quickly puts it to rest. “Look, I don’t think she really cares about the meaning behind the flowers. You said these are your favorite, and you’re the expert right?”

You nod, unable to trust your voice. “Mhmm.” Even your hum cracks. “But uh, maybe the deep red ones would be more appropriate?” You cock your head to the side and quirk your eyebrow.

“It’s fine, I swear” he reassures you, placing the bouquet on the counter before putting the white roses back in its stand.

Your feet refuse to move as if they’re cemented to the ground, but Jimin stands there in front of you with rosy eyes, awaiting for you to wrap up the object of his affection in a pretty red bow. So how could you refuse?

You walk past the carnation display on the way to the counter, and pick up another bouquet. Pink and red variegated. “Here, these are a little more fresh. The buds are tighter, so in a few days, you’ll see them nice and big.” You smile, closed lipped. “Just in time for Valentine’s Day.”

Jimin’s jaw loosens and his lips part. He knits his brow in a frown. “Uh, these aren’t actually meant for Valentine’s Day,” he says, running his hand through his perfectly imperfect raven hair. “She’s kind of mad at me right now,” he gives a mirthless chuckle while playing with his hands, “so I’m hoping I can make it up to her with this.”

Ah, your favorite flowers are reduced to nothing but a gift of pity.

“She’d be crazy not to accept your apology,” you say in a soft voice, gritting your teeth behind your tense jaw, eyes fixated on the little nursling in your hold. With a soft hand, you unravel the kraft paper and delicately wrap it around the bouquet. The very one you picked up this morning and arranged the hour prior, wondering if you’ll be able to send it off to a loving home.

Now you know for a fact that it’ll be in good hands.

“Do you think she’d like it?” Jimin chirps in.

It feels like your heart is on the threshold of bleeding out as he sends another prickle to the soft organ. Your concentration doesn’t even falter as you snip the ribbon.

“I know she will.”

You tie the fabric into the prettiest bow you can muster and slide the gift of love across the glass counter. Jimin looks down at the beautifully wrapped flowers with an ear to ear smile on his face. “Thank you so much for the help, I really appreciate it.”

“Just doing my job,” you remind him with a counterfeit smile, scanning the barcode at the back of the card. It’s a really cute card too. Sometimes I wonder how you put up with me then I remember I put up with you. So we’re even ❤️

You hate yourself for the fond smile you almost crack, masked behind the pained one you send his way.

Jimin passes you a $20 bill and grabs his merchandise from the table.

“She’s really lucky to have you,” you lament honestly with glistening eyes as he walks out the front door.

He doesn’t catch a word you say, but he manages to shout back a “thank you!” and a “see you tomorrow!” before speeding out, setting off the bell at the top of the door without ever looking back at your dejected figured.

You’re left alone to finish the rest of the work day, surrounded by none other than the sickly, sweet scent of seeded eucalyptus and baby’s breath, all while taking in the putrid sight of variegated carnations.

They say that you are your worst enemy, and they are 110% correct on the matter. You don’t know why you would think that you’d have a good day on the basis of your neighbor having a crummy one. It’s not like there’s some kind of transfer of energy. It’s been proven to you time and time again that divine intervention and karmic justice just aren’t real, and apparently, neither is science. Otherwise, by that logic, you’d have a superb day.

You would have slept through last night and woken up to a pretty pink sunrise painted across the sky— nothing but peace. To the chirping of birds in the distance and to the passing of cars on an empty street. You would have had enough time to prepare a proper breakfast— pancakes, eggs, bacon, and maybe even a nice cup of hot chocolate. Not a measly cup of black coffee to keep you awake for the rest of the busy day. You would have had a nice chat with Jimin at the flower shop about the capitalistic corruption of Valentine’s Day while he’d try to convince you otherwise. He’d prove you wrong, and you would have walked home with a blooming garden in your heart.

But science is bullshit and the transfer of energy is a complete lie— photosynthesis being the only exception. The only thing you got out of today was a huge migraine and a withering blossom in your chest.

So just when you think that the day could not get any worse, it absolutely does.

You can probably blame the poor mindset you boxed yourself in— having a cynical outlook on love and life because of the dreaded upcoming holiday. Maybe it was because your crush just stomped all over your garden and plucked the flowers to give to some other girl. Or, you can put the blame on past you, the big freaking idiot who previously stripped off her bed sheets at 6:30 in the morning in hopes of being productive by doing weeks of piled up laundry. At this point, all you want to do is curl up in a warm bed, too exhausted by the trials and tribulations of life, but you can’t even give yourself the satisfaction of that because you thought you were some kind of changed woman who could manage her stupid laundry.

Newsflash, you’re not.

The naked mattress in the corner of your apartment mocks you, so grudgingly, you take your laundry basket down to the laundry room for your most hated chore. With heavy steps, you trudge through the cold, cement basement. It’s dark and dingy down there. A little scary too, given the flickering lightbulb at the end of the hallway. Nevertheless, you march through the doors and into the rumbling alcove.

What you find in there is startling, yet you can’t say that you’re surprised seeing that this occurrence is far from rare. You almost consider walking back upstairs and knocking on your floormate’s door, asking him if he’d be willing to do your laundry in exchange for $5 just so you don’t have to sit there, listening to some couple make out in the back corner.

Apparently, everyone in the world is foolishly in love except for you.

You crank up the volume a little louder so your cheap headphones can drown out the sound of them locking lips with one another, but the poor quality does absolutely nothing for your abused ears. The boisterous public display of affection is deafening over the sound of your “Wallowing in Self Pity” playlist.

You’re only capable of catching a brief glance in their direction before gagging and veering off. She’s sitting atop of the washing machine as he stands between her parted legs. They’re so lost in their own world that they don’t even notice your presence.

Out of respect for yourself and the horny couple, you choose to occupy a washing machine at the opposite corner of the laundry room. But perhaps you can save yourself the irritation as well as the $5 in your wallet because you can hear their hushed whispers. They’ve separated themselves long enough for the guy to convince her to move to a more private location. Although she still leeches herself onto his neck, he’s attentive enough to know that they aren’t alone. He picks her up and drags her out of the laundry room with her legs wrapped around his waist, unwilling to part from him as if holding his hand simply isn’t enough.

You roll your eyes, thankful for the quietude and the money you’ve saved yourself, but as you sit alone in the drafty basement, doing the chore you hate the most, you can’t help but think how much better it would be to do it with someone else at your side.

Somehow you’re convinced that crossing paths with Jeongguk in the hallway is fated after thinking about him moments prior. Because it’s very uncommon for that boy to leave his apartment, cooping up all day long with his video games, only to catch a breath of fresh air for his nightly gym sessions. When you see him locking up his apartment door, you offer him $5 anyways just out of the kindness of your heart. He could probably use the money more than you anyways.

Although you didn’t have any intention of doing a good deed today, karma still finds a way to punish you. As always, it’s bullshit.

Upon entering your empty apartment, the space is already filled with the sonorous sounds of orchestral music. Violins, violas, cellos, flutes, oboes, and harps all performing in perfect harmony. It’s played through the walls, coming from none other than the speakers of your beloved neighbor. You wouldn’t mind the soothing classical melodies to cure your migraine so long it’s accompanied by white noise. But your neighbor’s laughter rings above the music as you can hear him count “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3” in a triple metre.

You know that he’s not alone because there’s also another voice laughing alongside him. The same one you’ve grown accustomed to over the months. Her high pitched squeals are unmistakable as they greatly resemble other sounds you’ve heard come from her mouth on many unfortunate nights. So you can safely assume that your neighbor and his not-girlfriend made up with one another already—

“Look at me, not at your feet!”

“I don’t know where to put them!”

“You’re stepping on my toes!”

“Sorry!”

“Oh yeah, you’ll be sorry!”

It’s hard to picture what’s happening behind the wall when you don’t have faces to match with the voices. But you don’t really need it when their bed slat creaks beneath their weight and their headboard slams against your shared wall. Not when her yelps erupt as a result of the tickle fest they’re currently immersed in. The sounds are vivid enough for you to know much more than you need to know. It almost feels like you’re intruding on an intimate moment that’s not meant for your eyes, let alone your ears.

Meanwhile, as you struggle to tuck the fitted sheets beneath the four corners of your mattress, you wonder whether it’s worth it to leave the apartment again after such a hard day. Of course for the sole purpose of avoiding a home made porn video being filmed in the process.

Maybe it’s not too late, and you can still catch up to Jeongguk. You could head to the gym and snatch back the $5 you generously handed him because the more you think about it, the more you believe that someone owes you for your miserable time spent in this apartment complex. But you can’t take your anger out on the poor boy from down the hall when he doesn’t deserve it.

The sanctuary of your bed calls your name like a siren, so instead, you do what you’re forced to always do— plug in your cheap headphones, blare out some music, and move on with your day.

And it works for the most part.

You’re able to successfully put on your bed sheets after struggling to play a big game of tug of war with your mattress. Despite the internal push and pull, you also will yourself to do adult things like tidying up the studio, making the space somewhat habitable for humans. By 9pm, you can finally sit down and enjoy a nice, hot meal. However, you’re forced to keep your headphones on because your neighbor’s not-girlfriend decided that she couldn’t go a single day without her not-boyfriend’s dick in her mouth.

You swear you’re going to ask him tonight why he hasn’t made it official because it’s clear as day that they’re in love with one another. You know that you definitely would be if someone offered you oral every single day. Unfortunately, nobody’s offering. Thus, you’re forced to live vicariously.

So as midnight approaches, and the moon reaches its apex, you settle into bed with a book in hand, ready to suffer through the night. It’s difficult to concentrate on the text when your music is blasting, but you suppose it’s better to listen to lo-fi hip hop beats as opposed to the scream of “daddy” over and over and over…

Although you applaud her for her shamelessness, you would still prefer if she could keep to herself.

Thankfully, these moments are only temporary.

With your eyes squeezed shut, you let out a lethargic yawn. Looking over at your nightstand, you spot your ticking alarm clock. It’s nearing 1 in the morning, and you decide that you’re exhausted. Well, you’ve decided that long ago, but going to bed before midnight is admitting defeat against your own body. Nevertheless, no matter how tired you are, you know in the back of your mind that there’s no way you could have dozed off with your neighbors going on a Netflix binge with speakers fully blaring audio from The Office. It’s as if they don’t know what headphones are.

But after “one more episode” and a disgustingly long makeout session, you can hear the shuffle of feet across the floor boards and the turning of the lock.

It’s nearly 2 am, and the radiator hisses. It’s quiet.

But then that’s when you hear it like clockwork. The delicate hum before the pleasant tune. Tonight, it’s not a song you’re familiar with. Something about the universe moving and happiness that’s meant to be. Mentions of penicillium and a calico cat? There’s lots of talk about letting someone love you, and that’s when it really hits you in the gut. You’re not so sure about the song, but as always, it sounds pretty. It’s not typical to call a guy’s voice beautiful, but it is what it is. It’s serene, and it’s the promise of tomorrow. It’s something you wish that would never stop.

But of course all good things come to an end.

There’s a purposeful knock against the wall which startles you. “Hey, I know you’re up. How’d your day go?” Your neighbor asks, breaking the silence and dragging your attention towards his voice once again.

You tug your headphones off and walk to the other side of the apartment to lay your book down on the desk, gracefully avoiding anything in your wake because your apartment is finally clean.

“You know, sometimes I wish you would catch me on my good days so I wouldn’t have to tell you such sad stories.” A wary smile surfaces your lips.

“Why, what happened today?” He asks with concern laced in every syllable. “Did you take my advice?”

You climb back into bed, pulling your covers over your torso. Sometimes you feel bad about how many silent complaints you have about your neighbor when he’s actually a really nice guy. He just lacks the proper etiquette knowing that the walls are paper thin.

“IIIIIII tried to.” You drag out the vowel, hesitant to recall the embarrassing story.

“Yeah, and how’d it go?”

“He doesn’t like me back,” you say plainly after a moment’s reflection.

Your neighbor scoffs. “He’s an idiot then.”

You try to fight back the smile because as untrue as it is, Jimin is anything but an idiot. But it’s comforting to know that someone has your back, defending you in all your honor.

This time, you genuinely chuckle. “It’s not that.... He uh, actually has a girlfriend.” It hurts to admit it out loud. “And I’m sure she’s lovely if he likes her that much.”

“Like I said, he’s an idiot for losing out on the best thing in his life.”

It’s impossible for you to fight back this bashful smile because it makes your heart flutter. This may be the first time you’ve felt good about yourself this whole day.

“Thanks, but I don’t know about that though—”

He interrupts you, “Come on, don’t say that. You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “You’ve never even met me, and you don’t even know what I look like.” You roll your eyes, but a chuckle unintentionally falls from your lips.

“It’s not about what’s on the outside, okay? I already know you’re beautiful because that’s what you are on the inside.”

“Shut up, that’s so cheesy.” You flip over on your bed and dig your face into the pillow, flustered by his kind words. There’s absolutely no way people this nice exist in this world. “I could be a troll or a vampire or something for all you know.”

“Vampires are kinda hot. Haven’t you seen Twilight?” He banters. “And I’m sure this guy isn’t even all that great. Like, tell me something you hate about him.”

Your hands cover your mouth, stifling a laugh. “I’m not gonna hate on him because he doesn’t like me back. It’s just the reality of it. Besides, he’s perfect.” You roll your eyes, annoyed by how flawless Jimin is in your eyes.

Your neighbor prods at you. “I reaaallly doubt that. There has to be something. Not even a pet peeve? Maybe he’s chronically late to everything? Sings out loud in a quiet place? Has a super annoying laugh?”

“Yes, yes, and no.” You flip your pillow over to the cold side and settle in to lie in a more comfortable position, slipping your hand beneath the cushion. “I can excuse the lateness,” you lick your chapped lips. “He also sings like an angel, and his laugh is really endearing. He does this thing where he laughs with his whole body, and he falls over every time. I like it because I know he’s at his happiest then,” you remember zealously.

“Damn, I guess I’m just projecting my own flaws now, huh?” You can hear him snort from laughter, rolling his neck and cracking the joints in his body, and then the click of his knuckles, 10 of them, one after another.

“Ugh,” you scrunch your nose, “Don’t do that. He does it too, and I guess that’s the only thing he does that really gets to me.”

Your neighbor cracks another joint somewhere on his body just to annoy you, and you cringe. “See, now we’re talking.”

“I was gonna tell you that you sing well too and that I like your laugh, but maybe I’ll have to reconsider,” you taunt. “But still, you shouldn’t put yourself down for the things that show off your happiness.”

The bed creaks from the other side. He must have switched positions for that to happen. “Thanks,” he offers. His voice is muffled, face most likely pressed up against his own pillow. “How about you tell me about the things you like about him?”

“What? Are you trying to wound me?” You ask, slightly hurt.

He scoffs, “No, I’m trying to prove a point here. So, tell me.” He implores like this is some kind of couple’s therapy session. Apparently, without your other half.

As moonlight filters through your curtains and the cars whiz by on the empty street below you, you consider all the things you love and appreciate about Jimin.

“I love how selfless he is. He’s caring and attentive... He’ll know when I’m tired and he’ll offer me coffee. He also scolds me for sleeping late and he lifts my burdens for me, even when I don’t ask him to.” You close your eyes in retrospect of Jimin and all the good things in life that he embodies. “It’s not even the things that he does for me that make me like him.”

Your neighbor hums, letting you continue.

“I guess it’s the principle that’s important.” You play with the sleeves of your sweatshirt, pulling on the edges to give yourself some comfort. “There are people in this world who aren’t… the nicest? I guess. And… he’s one of the purest people I know. It’s like he goes the extra mile to make sure I’m happy… and healthy.” You take a deep sigh before your mind wanders to the darker parts of your brain. “But I also know he treats everyone else like that too. Because he’s that nice. So... I guess I should have seen it coming that I wasn’t so special anyways,” you recall with tears welling up in the brim of your eyes and a knot tightening in your throat.

“Don’t say that, you’re one of a kind,” he assures you sternly, “What’s his name? I’ll go beat him up right now.”

You give a bitter laugh, wiping away at your eyes with the back of your hands.

“My point is that there are other guys out there who are just as caring. And they should make you feel special because you are, and it’s what you deserve. So if the next guy who comes along doesn’t treat you that way, I will beat his ass, okay?” He says in the most nonthreatening voice ever.

You chortle, “Okay, yeah, sure.” You’re not totally convinced of that.

“You’re probably right, I don’t want to fight and embarrass myself after promising you that,” he giggles.

“I appreciate the sentiment though.” Earnestly, you do. You don’t know many guys who are this nice, Jimin being the exception. “How ‘bout you though? It sounds like you made up with your not-girlfriend? I hope that wasn’t you in the laundry room earlier,” you tease, deflecting the attention away from you with a raised voice.

He gladly takes the bait. “Oh shit, that was you? I’m so sorry.” He rolls around the bed in a fit of sweet laughter, and the slat creaks. “And yeah, we did,” he breathes out with a shallow huff after regaining composure. He sounds nonchalant about it.

“You don’t sound very happy?”

“No, I am,” he deadpans.

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. “Can you tell me what it is that you like about her?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer immediately like you’d expect, but he’s dwelling on the answer.

“I love how kind hearted she is,” he thinks out loud. “She’s a natural nurturer.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, and you can’t help but reciprocate because of how pure that is.

“Like... she’s always so bright, and…” he stops. “I just don’t know how to explain it. You’d have to meet her to know what I mean.”

“Yeah you should invite me over so I can meet her.” You both chuckle knowing that you should meet one another before meeting his fuck buddy.

“I think you’d like her actually. She has this beautiful soul… I- I don’t even know. She just sees the best in everyone. I know that she probably has her own struggles, but I don’t think she’ll ever let anyone know about them,” he mulls over, going on a tangent.

“Why’s that?” You curl up on your side, hugging your pillow like you do during every conversation with him. It’s as if he’s recalling a bedtime story for you. You let out another yawn, and although you’re on the verge of falling asleep, you stay up a little longer just to hear him talk.

“I’m not so sure why… I guess I love her and hate her for this...” He reflects.

You hum, acknowledging him while urging him to continue his train of thought.

“I don’t know... but she’s the type to suffer in silence for the sake of seeing other people around her smile. And… I don’t think she’ll ever admit when she’s hurt or when she needs help. She puts others before herself. Like, she’s so hellbent on putting on a happy face so that others can be happy too.”

You nod to yourself, understanding what he means with every word.

“And It’s not like she fakes her happiness or anything,” he continues as if clarification is needed. “She’s just… such a joy to be around. She makes everyone feel welcomed… and comfortable… And when she’s really happy, like genuinely happy, it feels like everything is right in the world.”

You can tell he has a big, doting smile on his face. One simply cannot talk about a love like this and not smile.

“I only wish that she’d be vulnerable with me so I can make her world a little brighter too.”

“That’s really sweet, and also, I lowkey feel attacked right now,” you let out a dry chuckle.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “But I think that’s why you two would get along well.”

“Set up a date, and I’ll come over,” you joke with raised brows.

“Hmm… I’ll have to think about it,” he teases. “Oh, but uhm... if we’re still on the conversation of what I like about her, physically, I love her smile. I swear to God I stopped in my tracks the first time I saw her… and it still happens every time.”

“That’s cute,” you smile fondly.

“When she looks at me, I think the whole world stops for a second because I can actually feel myself get vertigo,” he giggles innocently. “And she’s also got this super adorable snort-laugh that never fails to bring out the best in me. God, it’s beyond cute, you don’t even know.”

“It sounds like you’re in love,” you suggest, curling up tighter into a ball, squeezing at your pillow. “I don’t see why you haven’t made it official yet.”

The pause is filled by the whirring of the radiator and the ticking of the clock.

“Yeah… I don’t know either.”

Waking up, you find out that going to bed with a broken heart is a little easier than going to bed with a hopeful one. Perhaps it’s the emotional exhaustion that puts you to rest, but it doesn’t mean you’re any less fatigued. All your efforts are put into your work, and in a way, tending to flowers has served as a distraction from the wilting ones that reside in your chest.

When in reality, you should find a way to revive those instead.

But as Jimin stands before you, you can’t resist the shriveled petals that land in the pit of your stomach like cherry blossoms in the midst of spring. You really don’t know how you manage to bear discourse about Valentine’s Day when he’s unknowingly sitting there with wide eyes, listening to you talk about unreciprocated love that’s so obviously directed towards him.

“You mean to tell me that you read romance novels and watch rom-coms, but you hate the most romantic holiday of the year?”

“Exactly,” you nod as if it’s indisputable.

He gives you a questioning look with a crease on his forehead and lips pressed together in a straight line. “Make it make sense,” he challenges.

You finish chewing on the forkful of salad you popped into your mouth before answering. “Can I rant about it?”

Jimin gives you the go ahead and you continue, “I don’t think you understand how much of a die-hard hopeless romantic I am.”

“Actually, I think I do,” he scoffs and raises his shoulders confidently with eyes closed as if it’s a matter of fact. “That doesn’t prove your point though,” he counters.

You put your hand up, motioning him to stop interrupting, “Let me finish.”

Jimin shrugs and grins from across the counter, allowing you to proceed.

“When I love something, I put my heart and soul into it. I believe in passion, chivalry, and true love.” He hums in agreement as you count down each item with your fingers as if it’s an unofficial list of all the things that encompass a hopeless romantic. “And for me, Valentine’s Day is a poor excuse to spend money and show off all the things you’ve received from your significant other.”

“That’s valid,” Jimin nods, agreeing while munching on his fries.

“Like, why spoil someone on this particular day? What happens during the other 364 days?” You spew.

Jimin mouths “365,” correcting you on the technicalities of a leap year.

You click your tongue, moving on to the point. “Are they not cherished for the rest of the year? I would hope that my boyfriend makes me feel special for more than a single night.” Your forehead creases, too livid at this point to even realize how sadly single you sound.

You’re too busy ranting, accidentally speaking over Jimin to hear him reassure you that you are special. “Also there’s just so much pressure to make the night special, as if they have to plan something, otherwise they’re not the ‘perfect couple’ or the ‘perfect man.’” You emphasize with air quotes.

“I felt that one,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“You see my point now?” You acknowledge him sullenly. There’s a tug on your heartstrings at the mention of his girlfriend, but you drive your point forward in hopes of changing the direction of topics. You don’t even want to think about whether or not he’s made plans with his girlfriend yet.

“And what’s the deal with chocolates?” You yell, completely frustrated, throwing your arms up. “They’re totally overpriced. And cards? Cheesy and terrible. My Instagram feed? Flooded with PDA, and it's a big stab at singles like me.” You enunciate angrily, driving your fork harshly into your salad once again.

He laughs and nearly falls off the stool he’s sat on top of before swiftly catching himself. You snicker at his unadulterated cuteness.

“How ‘bout flowers?” He questions with ketchup lingering on the corner of his mouth.

Picking up a napkin from the edge of the counter, you mindlessly reach across to wipe at his lips, still in the process of ranting. “Don’t get me started on flowers,” you shake your head, folding up the napkin on the table. Jimin smiles at you as your eyes train on the fork that digs through your salad, stabbing into the poor vegetables. “Florists overcharge for them, and I hate it because I didn’t get into this business for the purpose of cheating people out of their money.” At this point, you’re rolling your eyes, seething at the thought of Valentine’s Day.

“Why’d you get into the business then?” He asks, silently offering his fries to you, the ones you’ve been eyeing ever since he revealed his lunch.

“Because I love flowers,” you say plain as day, reaching to grab a fry. “Because they make me happy, and when I send them off to someone, I know it’ll make their day a little brighter too.”

You wave the fry around in the air before sticking it in your mouth. Capping off your empty bowl of salad, you don’t seem to notice how Jimin looks at you and the understated beauty you exude.

“It’s cheesy, I know! You don’t have to look at me like I’m crazy,” you whine, briefly looking up at him with round eyes, turning around to toss your garbage.

Jimin flashes you a big, toothy smile, “No, you’re not crazy. You’re just... exactly what I thought you were.” His voice is low, almost as if he’s thinking to himself. As if they’re words you’re not meant to hear.

“Thanks? I think,” you giggle, unsure what he means. “Are you saying I’m predictable?” You inquire.

“I meant refreshing.” The crinkles at the corners of his eyes form as he grins. “I’m just trying to figure out why you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day.”

“First of all, I don’t need a date,” you say in defense, teasingly offended.

“I know that, and you know what I mean. But you deserve to be treated like you’re speー”

“Second of all, I do have one.”

“Oh. You do?” He asks, creasing his brows and biting his plush lips.

“Yeah, with myself,” you jest with a smile, elbows resting on the counter with hands cupping your face.

Jimin’s chest deflates with an exhale, finally letting out the breath he’s been holding. “What, are you gonna watch The Notebook until you cry?” He pokes at your shoulder like a tease.

“I’m not that predictable,” you eye him with a gleam in your iris, fully knowing that it is the case. “But maybe,” you affirm with a sly smirk, “after I close up the shop at midnight though.”

“Knew it,” he scoffs. “But why are you closing so late? You should go home early so you can cry and watch The Notebook.”

“Mmm.” You hum, standing up from your stool and turning to hide the downturn of your lips. Running a rag underneath the faucet, you turn to wipe down the counter free of any crumbs. Jimin lifts his elbow up as you glide the cloth across the glass until it’s squeaky clean. “Let’s not forget that it’s Valentine’s Day, and I run a flower shop, Jimin. People are going to come by for a bouquet until the last second.” You exasperate, shaking your head in disapproval of all the last minute shoppers.

“You can’t get anyone else to lock up?” He suggests.

“They’ll hate me forever if I force them to work until midnight,” you reason, “Besides, it’s not like they’re single, so it’s fine. I can do it myself.”

“I really think you should be resting though. You haven’t been sleeping well lately, right?” He asks with concern in his intonation.

“I can take care of myself, I promise. I’m gonna treat myself after work anyways.” You do a little dance that consists of shimmying your shoulders and bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet.

He smiles at you endearingly with wide eyes, “I don’t think crying to The Notebook is a form of treating yourself.” He repeats as if the joke will never die.

You shake your head and click your tongue exclaiming, “If you must know, I’m gonna bake cookies.”

“Are you gonna share with me?” He pleads.

Your tongue pokes at your inner cheek as if you’re thinking about it. “Hmm, I don’t know. I might eat them all in one night.” Your lips purse in a taunt.

His mouth forms a pout, and you’re forced to give in to him and his bright puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh, fine, but only because you asked so nicely, I guess I can make some extras,” you groan, pressing your lips together straight like an arrow. You nudge his shoulder with your own despite the squeeze at your heart and the softening of your eyes, “For you and your girlfriend.”

It’s not like you had to mention it. But it’s been on your mind since yesterday, and you’re sure that the only way to fix a broken heart is to learn to accept it. Even if it means plucking out the thorns that are lodged in your heart until it feels numb. Empty and devoid of life.

“Girlfrie- oh, right, right. That’d be nice,” he sputters out, body stiffening, “Butー”

“Maybe I can bake them Thursday night?” You offer. “So you can pick them up on Friday if you buy flowers for her?” Your eyes blink in a failed attempt to wink.

Jimin stifles a laugh at your pitiful endeavor. It’s really pathetic how hard you try, pretending that you’re not hurt right in front of the guy who stormed into your garden.

But you suppose flowers can’t grow without a little bit of downpour.

He licks his lips, and his smile falters. “Riiight, but it’s okay, you should enjoy your cookies on Friday night because I’m not sure I’ll be around to buy flowers that day anyways.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, perplexed, head cocked to the side.

“Uh, don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, brushing it off before taking a look at his watch. “I have to head back to work though, my break is almost ending.” You watch him carefully with narrowing eyes as he collects his belongings, scrambling to head out the door. With the exit half opened, he turns around to bid you goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

The bell chimes and he’s out of sight.

You can’t even process his words because you’re too busy staring at the exit trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Adulthood is just an endless cycle of sleeping and working, but it seems like you’re lacking in the former activity seeing that all you do is work. In the final stretch of Valentine’s Day, with a few more days to go, you’re just about ready to crash and burn.

Upon entering your quiet apartment tonight, you fail to do anything productive. You nose dive into bed and curl up into a cocoon at the strike of 10 pm. Somehow, you don’t even care enough to tug off your jeans or remove your smudged makeup. You’re ready to accept the consequences of bad skin and a stained pillowcase because the only thing that matters is that you knock out the moment your head hits the soft linen. There’s no time to replay the events of today or plan for tomorrow when your eyelids weigh you down into a deep slumber.

There’s not a single thing that can spur you. Not even the shining of the moonlight over your profile or the rhythmic whizzing of cars on the empty street beneath you. Even when there’s a police siren ringing in the distance or a rumble from a descending airplane in the atmosphere above you, you don’t bat an eye. You can’t even hear the hum of the rusty pipelines when your neighbor hops into the shower at the breach of dawn. Even the whirring radiator and the ticking clock blurs into nothing but white noise.

They’re all there to keep you company as you lie down in a bed of withered roses. To offer you comfort in your barren Renaissance garden.

You can’t seem to put your finger on it, but you wake up feeling like it’s the best night of rest you’ve gotten in the last week despite it being a short lived slumber. It’s definitely the most consistent night of sleep you’ve had in a while. And even though you went to bed without dinner, it didn’t hinder your sleep whatsoever. It only means that you can eat a full breakfast to power through the day.

And powering through is what you do best.

Apparently, the world is up against you because you can’t remember the last time you even got to sit down. You’re constantly on your feet, attending to customers and fulfilling orders. There’s no time to breathe even when you’re literally enclosed in a greenhouse. There’s always something to do, and stopping to take a break means slowing down the process. It’s not an option you want to take.

At the end of each day, you’re wobbling back home with sore muscles and blurred vision. Your ability to function is beyond your own imagination. Your definition of “functioning” has diminished to standing on your own two feet although that still bears a challenge for you.

The sustenance in your body is nearly nonexistent, especially because you’ve been neglecting your self-care. Typically, you don’t think about eating on the job. It’s honestly not on your mind because there are only two things that occupy your brain space: (1) Work and (2) Jimin.

Somehow, Jimin takes better care of you than you do yourself. And without him around, you’re a walking corpse. He’s always providing you with lunch and snacks, leaving you sticky notes with reminders to hydrate yourself. You didn’t realize that you needed him this much to remind you of the simple tasks like drinking or eating or… smiling.

Sometimes he draws cute flowers or scribbles plant puns on the post-it notes, sticking them onto obscure places that are hard for you to find. Your favorite one being the time he wrote “I love it when you call me big poppy.”

He claims that the notes are designed to make you laugh, even for the few that are not very funny. They definitely do brighten your day, especially when you have the ephemeral chance to glance at them hanging up above your desk in the back office. Smiling at the itty-bitty illustrations has become second nature to you. When you’re going through a rough day, aka everyday, and you’re in need of a breather, you wander into the back room to pace around, only to come face to face with a kaleidoscope of doodled butterflies spanned across a string of rainbow post it notes.

He once drew a sunflower and said something cheesy about how your laughter is the embodiment of sunshine— how it would be a crime against the flora population if you were to go a day without laughter.

It was corny and far from being right, but it was so perfectly Jimin.

When he does stupid shit like that, it makes you feel like the biggest lovesick idiot in the world. In your naive past, you thought that the smiles he sent your way were ones reserved for you and only you. You were convinced that the shameless flirting was a silent mechanism used to express his inclination towards you. You assumed that the daily visits to your flower shop were formidable attempts to get to know you better. A little part of you hoped that the songs he shared with you equated to sharing a piece of his heart.

You absolutely were sharing. You just didn’t realize that you’d be sharing with someone else.

So when Jimin consigns adorable puns that melt your heart, and he stops by with a cup of coffee, just know that they’re acts of friendship. When he spends his lunch breaks at the flower shop and sings songs that remind him of you, he’s coming from a place of kindness, not attraction.

It is true that Jimin’s your sunshine, but it’s also a fundamental principle to botanists that too much of something is bad enough, and too much of nothing is just as tough. And deceiving yourself into believing that he was all that you needed had scorched up all the flowers in your garden.

The drought he put you in didn’t prepare you enough for the brewing storm.

It pains you to say that you need him more than he needs you because even if he isn’t romantically interested in you, you would have hoped that he’d stick around as a friend. His waning presence leads you to believe that he’s simply not interested.

Maybe you were too invested in what could have been between the two of you, you failed to see what was right there in plain sight.

Somehow, you still wonder if he thinks about you as much as you think about him. And it’s pathetic granted you’re incredibly busy with work and your own crippling health. Yet thoughts of him still pop up throughout the day more than you would like. No matter how much you want to forget about your infatuation, you simply can’t will him away because of how often his beautiful face flashes before your eyes. You want to push him to the back of your mind, but whether you’re in need of a breather during your hectic schedule, admiring his stupid puns and butterfly mosaics, or you’re in need of some company in your eerily quiet apartment, doing laundry or having a meal all to yourself, you still can’t get the sound of his sweet laughter out of your head.

You don’t know how it’s possible, but you manage to close up shop long before midnight. It’s a blessing and a curse because you are absolutely wiped out. Not only are you mentally checked out, but ironically, your flower shop is destitute of flowers, completely sold out from the holiday. As you clean up the barren space, you can’t help but feel as if a big weight has been lifted off your shoulders. The stress of Valentine’s Day is over, and you can finally go home, lie in bed with a tray of cookies, and enjoy the beauty that is Ryan Gosling.

You even consider closing the store all of tomorrow because you need the day off to recharge. So as you print out and paste your notice on the glass door, you’re dumbfounded to come across a sliver of paper that’s already attached on the other side. Opening up the door and letting in a gust of cold air breeze by you, you remove the sticky note that’s been unknowingly attached to your entrance.

Not a daisy goes by that I don’t think of you.

The smile that tugs on your lips grapples against the ache in your heart. Quickly, the fond smile melts into one of hurt and disappointment. Your left hand balls into a tight fist, marring crescent moon shapes into your palms. Meanwhile, your right hand delicately fiddles with the tiny square between your fingers, debating whether or not you should crumple up the paper and toss it away to be long forgotten. You’ve never been so confused about your feelings until Park Jimin came into your life, but you tuck the little daisy doodle into the pocket of your coat with a sigh.

With every passing year, Valentine’s Day becomes a little more bearable than the previous. Tonight feels like any other night, but better. You’ve come to accept that if there isn’t someone who can make you feel special, you might as well do it yourself.

Making a meal for you that doesn’t consist of ramen or 5 minute rice while dimming the lights and sparking up some candles is undeniably part of the healing process. And that’s what tonight mainly consists of. It’s all about love and self-care.

With your laptop perched on top of your dinner table and your Netflix queue lined up, you mindlessly mix at your wet and dry ingredients with a wooden spoon. Nothing has made you feel more at ease than the comfort of watching your favorite movie on repeat and the sweet taste of raw cookie dough on your tongue. Sometimes it’s the simple things in life that can put a smile on your face.

As you wait for your cookies to bake, you settle into bed with your legs crossed and back pressed against the headboard. Laughter from the speakers of your laptop fill the space, and you can’t help but laugh along with the characters, disrupting the peaceful ambiance of your apartment complex. The rumble of your laughter subsides, and the movie rolls on from scene to scene.

Your ears perk up like Pavlov’s dog when the oven goes off. You turn your head so quickly you nearly get whiplash, but it’s all worth it for the love of chocolate chip cookies. The aroma of sugar is enough to will yourself out of bed and conveniently press pause on Ryan Gosling’s charming face.

Pulling on your oven mitts to retrieve the hot platter, your body begins to sway around to the sudden echo of music. The soft guitar strums reverberate through the walls and against the vacant space of your studio. Your body stops moving to the acoustics when you realize where the noise is coming from. Looking up, your eyes bore into the eggshell walls as if you can see through it. But you soon space out, focusing on the vibrations of the nylon strings instead.

The song fades out and the quietude breaks you out of your reverie. You blink in confusion, trying to remember the last time you heard from your neighbor. Although you haven’t spent much time in your apartment in the past week, you miss the late night chats with him. Lately, you’ve been knocking out as soon as your head hits the pillow for some much needed rest. You haven’t heard his voice in forever, and especially not his angelic singing voice. Even tonight he refrains from singing in place of just practicing his guitar.

It’s a bit out of the ordinary.

His side of the wall is surprisingly quiet tonight. You would have expected him to be out and about with his girlfriend, but at this point of the night, they would have been jumping at each other's bones. Yet the gentle patter of footsteps and the lack of banging would suggest that he’s flying solo tonight.

Despite your curiosity, you’re not sure whether or not you’d want to bring it up in case it reopens some wounds. You think it’s best to leave it alone for the time being until he’s ready to come to you instead.

So as you proceed with bingeing your movies, there’s something in the back of your mind that still distracts you. It’s literally a crime that you’ve sat through 2 hours of The Notebook, yet you haven’t shed a single tear because you’re not even focused on the film in front of you. Rather, you’re thinking long and hard about the last time you heard your neighbor laugh in sincerity.

You really couldn’t care any less about the end credits that roll in front of you. Rather, with your chin propped up in the palm of your hands, you listen intently to what’s happening on the other side of the wall. It’s bizarrely quiet, aside from the sad symphony of string instruments that ring in the background of the ending credits.

When your screen turns black, you shut off your laptop and stow it away, knowing in your heart that you’re no longer in the mood for a romantic movie marathon. You make your way into your kitchen and reach for the cookies that have cooled off by now. But somehow, it feels wrong to sit here in enjoyment of your own company. Yet at the same time, this batch of cookies was the only thing you were looking forward to all week.

Nothing seems to satisfy you.

The only desire that creeps upon you is the desire to spend the night with someone else by your side. Frankly, it’s stupid because you know that you don’t need a man, and even the whole world knows that you don’t need one. Especially not on Valentine’s Day because you’ve made it abundantly clear that you hate February 14th with every fibre of your being.

However, the idea of having a friend at your side doesn’t seem so bad at this point.

You transfer all the cookies from the tray onto a smaller plate, arranging the delectable morsels into a presentable fashion.

With your slippers on, you make your way out of your apartment, letting the door close softly behind you. Standing in front of your neighbor’s abode, you nervously shift your weight on the heels of your feet. Midnight is approaching, and you wouldn’t want to disrupt his night like this, but it just feels right to knock on his door and offer your company. Just to check up on him because perhaps he’s in need of some companionship just like you. And who wouldn’t want some chocolate chip cookies? Baked with 80% sugar and 100% love.

Mustering up all the courage in your body, your hand comes up in a tight fist, knocking at the wooden door. You wait a moment, but to your dismay, there’s no evidence of movement on the other side of the partition. You would have heard his footsteps by now, and perhaps the turning of the deadbolt, but it’s dead silent.

Perhaps he didn’t hear you, so you knock a little harder this time.

Nothing.

As you stand outside, lost in naivety, you wonder whether you should try to make a fool of yourself and knock again. It’s been a good 5 minutes of you debating between speaking up to get his attention or giving up and retreating to your studio in embarrassment. Then you mentally facepalm yourself remembering that it’s incredibly rude of you to drop by without any kind of warning.

But still, you had his best interests in mind.

You think that the third time’s the charm, so in a last attempt, you knock with full force.

“Uhh, hey!” Your voice shakes and cracks. Blame it on the nerves. “I made some cookies, and I thought I’d share some!” You semi-yell in hopes of catching his attention.

“One second!” Oh, thank God. You can hear the bed frame creak on the other side and the skid of footsteps across the floor boards.

Your heartbeat weirdly picks up because of the fact that this is quite literally the first time you’ve come face to face with your neighbor. The late night chats with him have always made you feel comfortable, but there’s a certain nuance to meeting him that shakes your nerves.

You brace yourself as you hear the lock turn, eyes casting down towards the plate in front of you.

“I didn’t know that today’d be the day we meet like thiー” He says as the door swings open.

You look up expecting to greet him with a smile, but the one you had prepared falters from your lips.

“What’re youー”

“Y- You liveー”

You stutter over one another, lost in confusion. Staring into the very familiar set of brown eyes in front of you, you’re confounded by your new discovery.

Jimin stands before you, running his hand through his black locks as he opens the door wider, stepping aside to let you through.

“Hey, neighbor?” He sounds disoriented, untrusting of his voice.

You’re stood frozen at the foot of the entrance, unsure as to how you could possibly process all of this.

“I heard you made cookies?” He asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Here, come in.” He gently tugs on your sleeve, coddling you because of the state of shock you’re in.

You nod your head, barely cognizant of what’s being said. But your feet still shuffle through the entryway, and you slide off your slippers at the front door.

“This is so crazy,” he says, taking the plate of cookies off your hands. You’re both surprised that you have yet to drop them. He places the plate onto his coffee table, and his back is turned to you as you stand to the side, playing with the sleeves of your sweater.

How much weirder can this situation possibly get?

“You mean to tell me that we’ve been neighbors all this time and we didn’t even know?” You ask, sucking your lips inward, cocking your head to the side. Your words are a jumbled mess, but Jimin has become a master at deciphering your incoherent words through the thin walls many nights in a row.

“I’m just as surprised as you! I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots?” He exclaims in dismay, patting the seat beside him on the couch as an invitation to you.

Your brain feels as if it’s lost all of its cells because you have so many questions, yet you can’t seem to articulate them. As you sit down, you close your eyes and rub at your temples, praying that you’d wake up from this odd dream.

“There’s no way I could have connected the dots,” you sputter in collection of your thoughts, completely exasperated. “I just don’t understand.”

You fiddle with your fingers, and Jimin takes your hand in his. His touch is soft, and as much as you want to pull away, you give into him because there’s no way you’d ever deny him, especially not when he looks at you with those big round eyes.

“I have so many questions,” you admit, rubbing at your eyelids.

“Shoot.”

“Uhm,” your head shakes wildly. “I don’t even know where to begin?” Your eyes widen, shocked by how nonchalant he’s acting. As if he didn’t just lead you on and ghost you days on end, pretending that everything’s okay now.

“Take your time,” he chuckles reassuringly, offering you a calming smile.

“Uhm… How are you? I guess? Th- that’s kind of the first thing I wanted to ask you before… I- you know.”

Your heart gallops because he’s looking at you, biting his lip. And you, you are completely weak for the man who holds all of your affection in the palm of his hands, yet you can’t handle his smoldering stare, so you avert your eyes elsewhere. This is downright cruel and unusual punishment.

You continue, “Because I haven’t spoken to you much lately, you know?”

“You wanted to check up on me?”

You blink away, eyes now focused on the vase of wilting flowers on the coffee table. Pink and red variegated carnations. You inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself and regulate your breath. Your body stiffens and your shoulders tense. Even your jaw tightens, but you manage to nod your head.

“I’ve been better,” he admits sullenly.

Your hand lets go of his, pulling back to seek comfort at your side. It just doesn’t feel right to hold his hand so intimately when he’s made a mess of your head and your heart. You just can’t do it to yourself, and you can’t do it to him or his girlfriend. Especially not when his heart belongs to her.

You open your mouth as if you have another question to ask, but none of them are coherent enough to utter. There’s plenty of noise ringing in your head, but it’s all nonsense.

Jimin gently rests his hand on the ball of your knee, almost like a graze, but his touch is hot, and you brush him off with the recoil of your leg.

His shoulders slump, and his eyes soften. His hands retract to his lap, respecting your wishes. He gulps, and noticeably the lump in his throat goes down in a swallow.

“Hey, it’s just me, okay? You don’t need to be scared.” He displays his palms out to you as a peace offering. A symbol of vulnerability. The tension in the air is palpable, but you still manage to keep your guard down in front of him.

Because this is Jimin. The guy you’ve come to know and unfortunately love. But it’s just that you’ve never seen Jimin like this.

“Yeah and that’s kind of the problem,” you breathe out. Your brows knit into a frown, and he looks at you in bewilderment, with wide eyes, parted lips, and stress tousled hair. “I- I don’t know if you’re Jimin the mysterious neighbor who’s been nothing but nice to me, or Jimin the guy from the flower shop who pretty much made it loud and clear he doesn’t want to see me,” you scoff.

“B- butー What do you mean? We’re the same person.” His eyes narrow, and he shakes his head subtly trying to convince you. He fiddles with his fingers, cracking his knuckles out of bad habit. Shifting his body so his knees are pointed towards yours, nearly in contact, he refrains from the much needed skinship. The heat radiating from his body is something you’re familiar with, and although it once brought you comfort, you can only feel resentment.

“Of course I want to see you? Iー I?” He’s a stuttering mess, shaking his head from side to side as if you’ve got it all wrong, but you interject because you have so much to say, yet you haven’t expressed yourself to your liking just yet.

“I don’t know about that!” Your hands clench up at your sides until your knuckles turn sharp. “Because neighbor Jimin is telling me he has a fuck buddy he thinks he’s in love with, and flower shop Jimin has a girlfriend he doesn’t want to talk about. So what is it? I’m hearing a lot about mixed feelings for this one person, and… if you’re involved with someone, I don’t want to get in the middle of this,” you spit out more harshly than expected, inching further and further away to the edge of the couch with your arms crossed over your chest. You gulp down a thick glob of spit in hopes of washing down the acidic sting in your throat, but it’s like bile just sits there on your tongue.

“Let me explain, okay?” He begs of you.

You sit there in sullen silence, staring at the carnations in your peripherals, ready to have him break your heart all over again. You nod, but you don’t even bother turning to face him, unsure whether or not you’d be able to hear him talk about how he’s in some complicated relationship with someone else.

“Please, look at me?” he pleads with a sniffle, “I need to know if you’re okay.” His voice cracks, and you finally look his way. You’re far from okay, but seeing him with glossy eyes, you also know that he isn’t either.

He licks his lips, and his hand comes up in desperate need of tucking the stray strand of hair that’s fallen in front of your face. But he decides against it in fear of rejection, and he rests his hand on the ball of his knee instead. Your line of sight falls to his shaking leg. You hesitantly reach across to close your hand softly around his in comfort. His movement stops instantly as he lets out a huff.

Licking your lips, your eyes gaze towards your hands, and you can’t help but imagine how they’d slot into one another so perfectlyー

“_____?” Your eyes shift to lock with his and there are tears that brim at his corners, but they’re kept at bay, refusing to fall.

“I-” He exhales.

You squeeze his hand a little tighter, and you don’t know if it’s more for yourself or for him, but it gives him the strength to continue on.

“Look, that girl and I? We weren’t in a relationship. I promise you. I told you that we were friends with benefits because that’s what we were.” He insists, hoping the message gets across to you, but your heart drops lower into your stomach at his admission. You don’t even want to picture him with some other girl, yet you know way more about their relationship than you would have ever wanted.

Hell, you were even convinced that they were in love. A highlight reel of the last few months spent in your apartment flashes before your eyes, and your grip on his hand loosens. You think back to the days when Jimin was just some faceless guy, dancing around with his supposed girlfriend, having pillow fights, running warm baths, making out beneath the stars, and fucking around with her like they were in love.

But he continues in hopes that you’d understand his point of view. “It was easier to tell you the truth because you didn’t know who I was, and you wouldn’t have judged me for it. So I was an idiot, and at the flower shop, I told you she was my girlfriend because it would have been easier to explain this complicated mess.” A single tear cascades down his cheek, and he wipes it away with the crook of his elbow.

“I mean, she wanted it to be serious, but there was just something pulling me back. And do you know what that was?”

You shake your head no and pull away, unsure how much more of this you can take.

He looks you dead in the eyes, but you can’t even look at him for another second because the wilting carnations are sitting there, mocking you.

“_____, you asked me the other day what I liked about her, and I was wracking my brain trying to come up with an answer... It wasn’t easy because you were the only person I thought about.”

A sudden tear escapes from the corner of your eyes, unbelieving, but you compel yourself to look back at his visage, checking for any tells of a lie. He doesn’t even falter.

“She and I? We fought so much because she was convinced I had feelings for someone else. And you know?” He shakes his head, “…It’s true. I couldn’t think about the things I liked about her, but then when I thought of you. My god, it was just so much easier to talk about the things I loved about you because you’re the one I like. I didn’t know how to express that, okay? The songs that I wrote? The ones you hear me sing day and night? Fuck…” He rubs at his eyes, and they’re evidently red from all the tears welled up. “They’re all about you, and you didn’t even know,” he sobs out. The first drop of tears came out steadily, but as you examine his face in total shock, the tears begin to cascade down his face.

You wrap your arms around his neck, now understanding where he’s coming from. It’s all a little more clear to you, and there’s no need to continue on if he’s in hysteria like this. His arms instinctively squeeze around your waist, holding on tight, too afraid that he’d lose you if he were to let go.

“I didn’t have my feelings sorted out because I was comfortable with where I was, but it’s not like it made me happy,” he confesses. You hush him, running your fingers through his hair and caressing his slumped back. Sitting in silence, you can only hear the sound of your breathing falling into sync with his. Occasionally, the radiator would go off and a car would drive by on the street beneath you.

You tell him that it’s all okay and that all is forgiven, but he still continues in justification of himself. “And I was convinced that you’d think I was a horrible person for liking someone else when I’ve got a complicated relationship going on, okay? Because that’s how I felt about myself, and I swear we broke it off, but I was too embarrassed to come to you because I didn’t know how to explain the mess I got myself into. It’s all my fault, and I’m so so so sorry, you have no idea.”

He’s wracked with sobs, but you hum, listening intently to his every word. They’re coherent enough for you to realize that you’ve both made mistakes because of a huge misunderstanding.

The Jimin that you know and love is right here in your arms, and there’s nothing you can do but forgive and forget.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he cries out with a hiccup. “I promise you that you’re the only person I care about.”

You whisper sweet nothings into his ear, hoping that he calms down because there’s really nothing to apologize for. “What did I say? You don’t have to be sorry, okay?” You remind him.

He lets out a breathy exhale, “I messed up,” he hiccups, “I don’t deserve this. You.”

Your hands rest on his shoulder, gently pulling back from him, but he clings on tighter to your waist. Looking down at the sweet man beneath you, you smile to yourself.

“Jimin,” you murmur.

“Hm?”

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” You shake your head, and a soft chuckle vibrates through your chest. Still, you keep him in your embrace because although it may seem like Jimin is the one in need of a hug, you need it just as much as he does.

“Can I tell you a story?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, tickling the skin at your sternum.

“I think I caught feelings for you the first time we met. Do you remember that?” He hums as you reminisce on the memory. “It was some random Sunday, and you walked in looking for a bouquet for your mom, but you realized you didn’t have enough cash on youー”

Jimin laughs beneath you, and it’s the way that he laughs that makes you realize you need that in your life. A cheshire grin spreads across your lips, and that’s when you know you can’t go a single day without hearing his laugh again.

“You didn’t have enough cash, so you pulled out a post it note and scribbled an IOU.” You can barely get the sentence out without chuckling to yourself. Jimin has stopped sobbing at this point, being reduced to a few sniffles here and there. You deem it as the right moment to pull back from his embrace so you can look him in the eyes.

“You drew a little daisy for me and that’s when I knew you were really something else.”

You cup his cheeks, and a grin tugs on his lips, matching the one on your face. His eyes shine in the dim light, just like how the sun radiates in the day time. A single tear trickles down his plush cheeks, and you wipe it away with the pad of your thumb.

“Look, I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember, and I have to admit that it hurt me when you said you had a girlfriend, but it really hurt me when you left without saying anything.”

His eyes cast downwards as if he’s ashamed, but you place your hand beneath his chin, bringing his attention back up.

“Know that I’d never judge you for the decisions you make and for the relationships you have, okay? And I don’t think you’re horribleー”

“You don’t?” He cuts you off with his big pleading eyes.

“No, far from it,” you beam, “I still think you’re the most selfless person I know.”

Jimin’s face drops at your confession, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel like you’re not special, because to me, you’re the most extraordinary person in this world.”

He cups your face, noticing that your eyes are starting to well. Drops of tears roll down your face, and Jimin’s quick to dry them away, pressing his lips against your cheeks to collect the drops of salt water. As you smile, another stream of tears pour from your ducts. Soft pecks are trailed against your skin, and you think you’ve successfully washed away all the pain.

You can feel the flowers in your heart slowly starting to bloom in preparation for spring.

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, opening up your eyes. He’s merely a few inches away from you, stuck in a daze.

His eyes can’t decide whether they want to look at the gleam in your irises or at the curvature of your lips, flickering between the two.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” Your whimper is hardly loud enough for your own ears, but he hears you loud and clear.

His hands rest at the sides of your neck as his thumbs run over your cheeks, grazing over the flesh of your lips. “Can I show you how special you are to me?”

You nod your head, and Jimin is overcome with the urge to kiss you, inching closer with puckered lips. They’re soft against your own, plush and pillowy. You melt into his touch as if he’s the light of your life. You think you could cry again from the sheer amount of euphoria built up in your little heart. Having him in your arms is all you could ever ask for.

He pulls back slightly in need of a breath, and you take the opportunity to climb into his lap, with knees settled on either side of his taut thighs.

“Missed you,” you whimper against the column of his neck, nosing at the sensitive skin.

Jimin’s breath hitches as he bites back a moan, “Missed you more.”

“Not possible,” you trail gentle kisses against his collarbones, pulling back on the cotton of his t-shirt to expose more of his neck.

His hands rest on your outer thighs thighs, squeezing tight on the muscles. You reach behind you to grab at his forearms, urging him to move his hands higher onto your body. He takes the hint immediately and experimentally squeezes at your ass. Your lips part from his neck, and Jimin takes the opportunity to latch his mouth back onto yours.

His lips are gentle in contrast to the firm grip he has on you. But with your weight resting on top of him, core pressed up against his crotch, you can feel how hard he is beneath you. In need of some release, you start to move your hips back and forth, grinding over his hard on.

Jimin gives you a lingering kiss on your lips, pulling back with a harsh groan. You offer a teasing smile, and he leans forward. He supports your weight at the bottom of your ass as your legs wrap around his waist. You nearly yelp when he stands, holding you up in his arms.

“I got you,” he reassures, pressing his lips firmly against yours, walking towards his unmade bed space. He lays you down gently on top of the messy covers, climbing between your legs. You whine upon the release of his lips, but his mouth leaves hot kisses down the column of your throat, causing you to gasp.

“Is it okay if we take this off?” He asks, thumbing at the hem of your sweater.

You nod sitting up, and he tugs the material off for you, tossing it to the edge of the bed. Upon sight of your bare chest, he molds into you, lips suctioning around your pebbled nipple. His other hand massages at your unattended breast, squeezing at the supple flesh.

“You’re beautiful,” he hums against your body.

You’re easily affected by his words as your back arches and your legs hook around his torso. Canting your hips upward, you signal to Jimin with a whine that you’re desperate for his touch.

“There’s no need to rush, baby, we have the whole night,” he warns you, leaving a kiss between the valley of your breasts.

You cry out in frustration, but it soon subsides when he satiates your needs. You relax when his hand lowers into your sweatpants, cupping at your heat. His middle finger traces at your entrance, running it up and down your panty clad slit. Your hips lurch once again, but Jimin presses your hips down, flush against the mattress.

As his tongue circles around your sensitive nipple, his fingers decide to dip into your underwear. The obscene sound of your juices squelching can be heard when he presses his finger into your tight hole. Inserting a finger in, you can feel your walls stretch around him. A cry falls from your lips as he begins to rub at your clit with the pad of his thumb.

Jimin inserts another finger, and your cunt feels so hot with the amount of friction. Pumping two fingers in and out, there’s a pleasurable burn that ripples throughout your body. Beads of sweat form on your hairline, and you wipe them away with the back of your hand. You can practically feel your heart beating out of your chest.

“Tell me how it feels, okay?” He asks, switching over to your other breast.

“You feel so good,” you mewl. He hums against your nipple in affirmation, biting lightly at the perky bud.

“Jimin?” You call out for him.

He parts from your chest to look into your eyes, fingers still pumping in and out of you with flexing biceps.

“I think it’d feel better if you’d fuck me,” you admit, no filter needed.

“Shit,” he groans, slowing down the pace. “I want to eat you out first though.”

He retracts his hand, and you feel empty without him inside. Your sweatpants and panties are tugged off in one swift motion, casted to the side along with your sweatshirt. Looking up with stars in your eyes, you can see that Jimin is still fully dressed. You open your mouth to tell him about your wishes, but he must have read your mind because he pulls off his t-shirt and throws it with no regard.

Beneath his clothing, he reveals to you his robust body. You’re dripping with lust, and it must be so obvious from the way you stare at his abdominals. Everything about him is so well-built, and you curse the talented dancer in front of you.

“Like what you see?” He teases, winking at you as he descends down your body.

“Love it,” you moan.

His breath is hot against your wet pussy. With juices dripping down your ass, you ruin the linen sheets beneath you. His fingers play with your core, spreading your swollen lips to reveal your flower, admiring how pretty your cunt is.

Sitting up with elbows propped, you look down in frustration between your bent legs to see Jimin licking his lips, staring at your heat like he’s ready to devour you. He kisses at the long, dark lines of stretch marks that reside on your inner thighs before his tongue presses softly against your wet clit, kitten licking at the bud. Reaching out, your hand balls around the white comforter to anchor yourself down. As you spread your legs wider, Jimin’s hands hook around your limbs to rest at your thighs. He presses them down, restricting your movement.

His tongue laps at your heat with no mercy, licking a stripe up your sex and tracing letters onto your clit, sending your nerves aflame. Your breaths are shallow as you pant, melding yourself to the mattress. He flicks his tongue, prodding it against your hole and delving in and out. He massages your tight walls as it clenches around his tongue.

There’s a knot in your stomach that forms embarrassingly fast, but you can’t help it when his plush lips give your cunt so much attention, sucking harshly on your clitoris. He looks over at your features, taking notice of your reactions, licking over and over the parts that make you squirm the most.

Your face scrunches in pleasure, nearly toppling over the edge. But you’re not ready to come. Not yet at least. Not without having Jimin’s hard cock inside of you.

Jimin is relentless against your pussy, but he doesn’t even let up when you call his name out. Your grip around the comforter loosens in favor of digging your fingers into Jimin’s luscious black locks.

“Jimiiiin,” you whine, tugging lightly at his roots. “I need you, please, please,” you beg.

He leaves a kiss at your bud, and you shudder in response. Jimin climbs up your body, and you shiver at the loss of contact.

“You need me, huh?” He teases, “You want to come?” You nod your head ardently when he presses his red, swollen lips against yours. He grapples with your mouth in a bruising, passionate kiss. With clicking teeth and suckling tongues, you can taste yourself off of his plush lips, completely drenched in your arousal.

Trailing your hand down Jimin’s sturdy body, you can’t resist running your hands over his perfectly sculpted abs. But on your descent, you pull on the strings of his heather gray sweatpants, loosening the elastic around his waist.

Your palm slides beneath the band, tucking beneath his boxer briefs. His eyebrows scrunch, and he gasps against your mouth when you wrap your hand around his hot, veiny cock, stroking at his erection. His cheeks flush as you swipe your thumb over the head, collecting beads of precum on your fingers.

He shudders at your touch. “Oh my God, I might die if you keep doing that,” he nearly cries.

You smile against the skin of his neck, sucking at his pulse point. Meanwhile, Jimin reaches over to his nightstand, pulling out a condom. He nearly falls off the bed, losing balance on his knee when you stroke his cock a little faster.

As Jimin sits up, trying to open up the packaging, you careen forward to pull off his sweats. You can hardly pull it down below his thick ass given the position he’s sitting in. But it’s enough for you to pull his dick out and wrap your hand around his girth in all its glory.

While waiting for Jimin to take out the condom, you decide to tease him like he deserves. Switching positions, you lie down on your stomach in front of him. With a glob of saliva built up in your mouth, you spit onto the head of his cock, watching it drip down the shaft and onto his balls. You glide your hand up and down to spread the saliva, making sure he’s nice and wet. His balls tighten the moment you suckle your lips around his slit.

You look up at Jimin with wide eyes in hope of some praise.

His eyes stare into yours, but he quickly throws his head back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m not gonna last, please, I know your mouth is like heaven, but I want to be inside you,” he rambles.

He tucks your hair behind your ears and rests his hand beneath your chin, tilting it upwards. His lips meet your forehead in a sweet kiss before you lie back down on the bed, spreading your legs wide open as an invitation.

Jimin ungracefully pulls off his pants down the rest of his legs. He pumps his thick cock in his hands before sliding on the condom and lining himself up at your entrance. You groan, reaching out for his wrists as he glides his length up and down your folds, making sure you're nice and wet for him, fully prepped.

The callous on his thumb is rough against your clit as he rubs down on it, easing the discomfort of penetration. Your velvety walls stretch around his member as he sinks into you inch by inch.

You’re gasping for air as he sheaths himself inside you, but you remain calm because Jimin peppers kisses all across your face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned.

“Mhmm,” you hum, “Might need a second.”

His nose nudges at your cheek, “Take all the time you need, baby.”

Moments go by until you’re comfortable with the stretch. You don’t know how Jimin has so much patience with you when you can literally feel his dick twitch inside your pussy, impossibly harder than he was moments prior. But like the angel he is, he still waits for your go-ahead.

“Jimin, you can move,” you whisper, cupping his cheek and offering a butterfly kiss.

His mouth finds his way to yours, and he kisses you with so much fervor. You’re too distracted by the kiss to notice him slide out of you.

But your lips part slightly, letting out a gasp when he drives his dick back into you, setting a moderate pace. Your hands reach for the skin of his back, latching your nails onto the smooth surface. The slap of skin on skin is obscene as his hips meet yours, pumping himself inside of you. The delicious burn has you digging your nails into his shoulder blades, scratching at his taut muscles.

You weren’t wrong to say that you can’t go another day without hearing Jimin’s laughter, but at the time, you were not privileged enough to hear his moans against the shell of your ear. That is the one thing you don’t want to ever live without, too spoiled by the sensual man above you.

Jimin fucks into you deeply, changing his angle as he shifts his weight onto his knees. His calculated thrusts to your g-spot sends you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes focus on your pussy, watching his dick disappear inside of you like an addiction. With a firm grasp on your hips, he lifts you higher to help you reach your orgasm.

“Jimin, I’m gonna come,” you gasp, gripping your walls tightly around his length.

“I know, baby, you can come.” He lowers himself onto his elbows so he can come face to face with you. His hands reach down between your bodies, and he rubs harsh figure eights on your swollen clit. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his as waves of pleasure crash over you. Your body trembles beneath him, moaning his name like a vice.

Jimin rides out your high, pumping into your tight hole until your legs nearly give out. He doesn’t dare pull away, continuing to circle your clit until you’ve nearly reached your limits. Your walls pulse around his cock, squeezing around his shaft until he’s nearly at his edge. His hair is matted to his forehead, slicked by sweat. You brush away the loose strands with the tips of your fingers.

“Are you close?” You breathe out, hush and quiet, cupping his jaw with the palm of your hands.

“Mhmm,” he gulps, rutting into you, pumping your cum in and out as it sheaths his shaft.

His pace falters as he approaches his orgasm, hips stuttering against yours. Jimin nearly collapses on top of you as he spills himself into the condom, moaning into the cusp of your ear. His chest presses up against yours as he attempts to catch his breath.

You trace soothing circles onto his back as he basks in the afterglow of post orgasmic sex.

His breathing soon evens out, and it’s comfortably quiet, that is with the exception of the radiator hissing in the corner of the studio.

“Wow.” He kisses your temple before pulling out, letting the remains of your cum flow out of you. He rolls over onto his back, pulling you into his warm embrace.

“So on a scale of 1-10, how special would you say you feel right about now?” A smug smirk tugs on his lips, and you playfully smack his pecks.

“Does this answer your question?” You ask, peppering 10 kisses onto his lips.

“Mmm, no, I didn’t quite hear your answer” he says, leaning in for another kiss, “Tell me one more time?”

And as Jimin kisses you goodnight, you know in your heart that the heartache and the loss of $5 are all worth it in the end if it means you get to wake up and smell the roses with Jimin at your bedside.

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royallyprincesslilly · 3 years

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Title: Kismet {11}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy

Words: 7k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

Note: The musical notes emoji 🎶 signifies a song being sung. They are the lyrics.

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

🎶 “But I don't wanna give up. Baby, I just want you to get up. Lately, I've been a little fed up. Wish you would just focus on—me. Can you focus on me? Baby, can you focus on me?”

The sounds of H.E.R filled the semi-rustic kitchen as you moved around it, checking on the multiple things you were making. Her album was one of your go-to things for mellowing out. You sang along and got lost vocalizing along with her. It didn’t take long for you to forget what time it was and that you weren’t exactly alone in the house. As the song ended and the next came on, you held your hands in the air, already feeling the opening of Girls Need Love Too.

🎶 “Honestly, I'm tryna stay focused. You must think I've got to be joking when I say. I don't think I can wait. I just need it now. Better swing my way.”

The lyrics were hitting you as right as gospel right about now. Pulling open the oven, you checked on the treats inside, making sure they were rising just the way they needed to. After you were pleased with their progress, you checked your pots on the stove one more time, then went back to the pitcher you were mixing your famous mimosas. That was when DSVN came on, and the hypnotizing sound of the lyrics with the beat made your mind drift back to Henry, especially when the hook came on. It sounded like it was made just for you in this situation.

For the next few minutes, you focused on trying not to burn breakfast rather than dancing or singing. That was until Santana came on, and you couldn’t help but bust out your best salsa moves to Carlos’ electric guitar and Latin flare. The song was so catchy that you quickly got carried away winding your hips and doing your best Shakira impersonation. If she were standing in front of you, you thought she’d be proud because you gave it everything you had. Before you knew it, the song was almost over, and you’d forgotten about being quiet, and were now singing along to the song as you danced around the kitchen.

“Someone woke up on the right side of the bed.”

Your scream was loud, so loud it bounced off the walls of the room. Your head nearly snapped off your neck from the force of which you spun around.

“Oh my god!”

Henry stood there pinching his lips, trying to stop himself from laughing at you.

“You scared me half to death.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I um—I smelled food and heard music, and here you are,” Henry explained.

“Oh no, no. How long were you standing there?”

Another smile spread across his face, and it was all you needed to know he’d probably seen the whole thing. Embarrassment filled you.

“Oh god, no.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. You can dance and sing. I enjoyed the show.”

You snorted while shaking your head, trying to overcome your embarrassment. When you met his eyes again, you still saw the amusement there.

“Good morning,” you began.

“Good morning. What’s—what’s going on?”

He motioned to the organized chaos around you.

“Oh, breakfast.”

“Did you order?”

“Nope. One hundred percent handmade but these hands,” you replied, holding up your hands and flexing your fingers for emphasis.

Henry’s eyebrows shot up as he approached the kitchen island.

“You cook.”

Approaching the same island on the opposite side, you nodded. “I cook and bake and mix and clean, iron, and do laundry.”

Henry snorted and nodded, clearly amused by the sarcasm in your voice.

“Cute.”

You smiled and leaned against it, resting your elbows on the wooden island keeping your eyes on him.

“I know I don’t look it, but they do say never judge a book by its cover,” you replied.

Henry nodded before he spoke. “For the record, I’ve never judged you.”

You studied him for several moments before your eyes drifted over him, taking in his tan linen pants and cream shirt. He looked good, and you almost got lost in that before you snapped out of it. Clearing your throat, you pushed off the island and looked around.

“I’m almost done.”

“What’s for breakfast, chef Taylor?”

You smiled, “I’m glad you asked Mr. Cavill. We have lavender vanilla bean beignets, scrambled eggs, sausages, and of course mimosas.”

Henry’s eyebrows again shot up. “Wow. How long have you been up?”

Turning from him, you dropped a few mint leaves into the pitcher you’d just mixed. “Well, I actually haven’t slept yet.”

“So you’ve been up all night?”

“Yep.”

Sliding to the right, you turned off the oven and took out the beignets to place them on the stove to cool.

“Why? Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. I’m a night—insomniac.”

He was going to find out one way or another throughout this vacation anyway, you reasoned with yourself.

“Really?”

He sounded hesitant but also surprised.

“Yeah, most of the time.”

You used the time he stood there in a state of shock to finish up what you were doing before turning back to him.

“Are you going to pass out later or soon?”

“Nope. Come on. All done. Can you grab those two?”

You nodded your head to the two platters on the stove as you took the others walking out of the kitchen to the outdoor dining table he’d shown you yesterday. Once he saw the table that had two other platters and set place settings, he exclaimed.

“Wow.”

“I know, but I like to cook.”

“Everything smells incredible,” Henry complimented as he stood at one of the Rattan chairs waiting for you to sit first.

Once you sat down, you motioned for him to begin. “Dig in.”

A few minutes passed with the two of you loading your plates with various items. Once you were finished, you took up the pitcher and poured drinks for you both. When he brought one of your beignets to his mouth, you paused and watched him sink his teeth into it. As soon as he did, he moaned so loud it filled the space and drifted off.

“Holy--,” he began but never finished because he took several more bites finishing his first one. Once he’d swallowed and reached for another, he continued. “How did you learn to make beignets?”

“Well, it began with my Gramaw, but eventually, it was experimenting.”

He bit into another and rolled his eyes into the back of his head, and groaned. “These are heaven.”

“I’m glad you like them.”

Covering his food-filled mouth, he spoke, “Love them, get it correct.”

You snorted and nodded as you began to eat. The view before you caught your eye once again, and getting lost was easy. The morning was beautiful, warm, and calm, with a gentle breeze that carried the salt in the air from the nearby sea. You didn’t know who wouldn’t love waking up to this every day. It was then you realized how badly you’d needed a vacation after all.

“You stare out a lot.”

Henry’s voice brought your eyes back to him to find his already on you.

“I’m sorry,” you began with a soft smile. “Another thing about me, I do that—a lot.”

“What’re you thinking about?”

You looked out again and nudged your head to the view. “How incredible this view is and that I can’t believe it’s been so long since I’ve taken a vacation,” you confessed.

“Tell me about it. I was literally running on fumes. I have no idea how I made it this far,” Henry said.

You continued to eat and fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.

“Was there anything particular you wanted to do today?”

“Like what?”

“There’s so much to do. I know a good spa. There’s diving, boat tours of this incredible lagoon, wine tasting, touring, driving along cote d'Azur. You name it, and it can be done,” he listed off.

“A lot of choices.”

You brought your legs up and hugged them to your body as you continued to eat while thinking about your options.

“What do you feel like doing?”

“I don’t mind either way,” Henry quickly responded.

That didn’t help you one bit, but you made the decision all the same. “Nothing screams vacation like a bikini, and a beach, so let’s live it up.”

He smiled as he nodded. “All right. We have a plan then,” he said, clapping his hands.

The rest of breakfast was comfortable and peaceful. Neither of you seemed to mind that conversation fell to the wayside because you were both lost in the food and scenery before you. After breakfast, you and Henry managed to do the dishes and clean up the kitchen together as you endured his teasing on the multitude of things you’d used to cook. As you cleaned, you caught his eyes on your body a few times, but he kept his physical distance for the most part. After you separated to get yourselves ready for your day in the sun.

You spent longer than necessary trying to decide on the right bikini. You didn’t know if you should go demure princess or buxom goddess. You were moving and making decisions by reading him. You told yourself the night before that you’d go at his pace and take your cues from him. If he initiated touching, you’d reciprocate. If he kissed you, you’d kiss him back. If he stayed away, you would too. You didn’t want to do the wrong thing or anything, especially since you didn’t know where you stood with him. Letting your self-doubt win, you chose the middle ground on the bikini.

Thirty minutes later, you stepped outside the villa to find Henry waiting patiently at a white Fiat convertible.

“Wow. Is this yours?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised. We have established that you’re a car man.”

He smiled as his eyes trailed over you. “Wow. The short shorts come out, huh.”

You looked over yourself, then back to him. “This is short? Ha, just you wait. I have even shorter.”

“I bet you do,” Henry chided as he held open the passenger door for you.

“It’s about a ten-minute drive to the beach, maybe eight if the cliffside isn’t flooded.”

“Wow, you’re right there, huh.”

He smiled and nodded as you slipped into the car.

“All right, let’s go. I have a goal to be kissed plentifully by this French sun, so in two weeks' time, I’m showing every bit of the melanin my ancestors blessed me with,” you joked.

Henry shut your door and walked around to the driver’s side. Once in, he pressed the start button.

“Bring it on. I happened to really like yours…it’s sexy,” he slipped in, meeting your eyes for a few moments.

“Did you just call me sexy, Mr. Cavill?”

His smile was wide before he slipped on his sunglasses. “Did I? Maybe, maybe not,” he said before he pulled off, beginning the journey.

As he drove, you relished the breeze and sun on your skin and waved your hands in the air, fully enjoying the carefree vibes you felt. Before long, you’d pulled out your phone and began snapping a multitude of pictures of the scenery, the people, and occasionally even Henry, though he probably had no idea. You didn’t want to miss the chance to see how perfect he looked behind the wheel.

When you got close to the beach, Henry parked along the cliff as plenty other cars had done. According to him, no one made a fuss about small things like that; as long as people could still pass it was all right. The laidback style was already agreeing with you. With him carrying all the bags like the gentleman he was, you allowed him to lead you across the road toward the sands of the beach and then down the shore to find the perfect spot. It took a few minutes, but when you found it, you staked your claim, stomping in the sand, marking it as yours. Henry took the initiative, spreading the oversized beach blanket using the items you’d brought with you as anchors for the corners.

Once he’d gotten it perfect, you wasted no time pulling off your tank then peeling off the shorts your wore. You tried to keep your eyes away from him, though you really wanted to know if you had his undivided attention. The middle ground bikini you’d chosen was still a look. The cut complimented your curves, while the color complimented your complexion. You wanted to take it at his pace, but you also had to show him you were still hot.

When you lied back on the blanket, you gawked at the ocean before you and marveled at its sparkle while the sun reflected off of it. Looking beside you to him, you found his eyes on you and his jaw slightly ajar.

“This is so beautiful.”

Henry snapped his head away from you and looked at the view you were just staring at. “Very,” he replied, his voice constrained as if his throat were closing. He held your bag out to you, but he didn’t look at you again.

“Thank you.”

You dug through it looking for your sunscreen spray. Once you’d found it, you began spraying along your arms and shoulders, rubbing the mist in working your way to your chest.

“Why France?”

“Huh? Excuse me?”

“France. Why France for buying a house?”

“Well, I have some French blood-ties; the Channel Islands has its history of it, and France is smack in the middle of there and London. I fell in love with it,” he explained.

“Why Bandol?”

“Oh, that’s easy. It’s still luxurious enough like St. Tropez but not as high profile. I can be Henry here and not worry someone is taking my picture.”

You nodded and understood perfectly. It was hard being on all the time. You’d gotten so used to it that you often forgot how to be off.

“I get it. It’s the same reason why I’ll always choose Australia and Ireland overall,” you explained.

“I’ve only seen Ireland a few times. I think I need to go back,” Henry added.

You smiled as fond memories washed over you of your time in Ireland. “You definitely should.”

You sprayed your shoulder closest to him and began rubbing in the liquid.

“Ehm, need some help?”

Your eyes met, and you fought back your smirk. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah, I can help. It’s no problem,” Henry assured.

You handed him the bottle, then turned your back to him and waited. He didn’t touch you for several moments.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

“Um—not sure, seven, eight maybe,” you said while anxiously waiting for him to begin.

“That’s quite a bit.”

“Not too much. They’re all strategically placed,” you explained.

When you felt the sprays on your back, you held your breath and waited for him to touch you. As Soon As he did, you bit your bottom lip, trying to ignore the feeling of completeness that washed over you. You liked the feel of his hands on your skin.

“Have you—ehm, have you ever thought about tattoos?”

“I have,” Henry began, his voice deeper than it had been moments before. his hands trailed lower to the small of your back, and you hunched over even more, giving him more access. “I’ve just never gotten around to it,” he finished.

Turning your head to rest your cheek on the tops of your knees, you smiled. “Too much work?”

A soft chuckle escaped him, and you felt his thump trail up your spine until he reached the back of your neck. Two sprays hit your skin, and he began rubbing into your shoulders. A weak moan slipped out, but he didn’t pull away. The kneading of his hands became more forceful then. You were quickly losing your nerve and grip on reality. Another moan slipped from your throat, and that was when Henry’s hands stilled and rested at your shoulder blades. You felt his fingertips trace the softest pattern onto your skin before they were gone.

“All done.”

By then, your heart was racing, and the butterflies in your gut were fluttering below your waist. Clearing your throat, you turned back to the ocean.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Henry said before he stood and discarded his shirt.

The action didn’t help you at all. Your jaw hit the floor as you took in every inch of him you’d spent all night since seeing the sprigs of hair peeking out his shirt. Plenty of dark hair decorated his chest and trailed down his abs until it disappeared behind his pants. A soft gasp drifted out of you, but your eyes refused to stop ogling. So you sat there looking at him and counting each of his eight ab muscles. The man had an eight pack; you thought to yourself as your throat painfully tightened.

“What’s wrong?”

Jerking your head up to his face, you shook your head, trying to find words.

“Wrong? Huh, nothing—um—you uh—you’re—you’re--.”

Henry smiled as he cocked his brow, waiting for you to say something intelligible. You had nothing, though.

“Cat got your tongue?” The humor in his voice was so obvious, and you felt like an idiot.

“And my brain cells, it would seem.”

His smile made you smile while trying to avert your eyes from the rock hard statue that he was.

“Sorry.”

Henry scoffed. “It’s okay,” he said.

“No, it’s not. You’re a person, not a piece of meat,” you clarified, feeling awful. You were doing the same thing to him that you hated men doing to you.

“Wait, you think I’m a piece of meat?”

Looking back at him, you spoke, “No, but I’m sure women look at you like you’re a piece of meat and in turn treat you like it.”

He nodded, “They have in the past.”

Your eyes again drifted downward, but you caught yourself before they got to his massive pecs. Clearing your throat, you stood.

“Do you burn easily?”

“I’m a white British man, of course, I do,” Henry joked, making you snort loudly.

“Wow, do you want some?”

He held his hands up as if to shield himself from you. “Are you looking for an excuse to feel me up?”

“What!?”

Henry snorted and laughed loudly.

“You’re kidding,” you surmised.

“Yes. You should have seen your face.”

You shook your head while burying your face in your hands. “Wow. That’s not cool.”

“You were an easy target,” Henry said, turning his back to you. “Oil me up, baby.”

You had every intention to, but the side of him from the back stopped you in your tracks for a few moments. As you slowly approached him, you accessed the entire meal that was him before you, unsure where to start. You sprayed over his back then slowly began rubbing across his skin. You couldn’t believe that even his back was as toned as an Olympian. Your brain was slowly short-circuiting with every inch of skin you touched. When you brought your hands down his spine to his tailbone, Henry groaned, and you fought the urge to go lower.

“All—done,” you said slightly above a whisper.

“Not quite,” Henry said, turning to face you. “My chest burns easily too.”

Face to face with temptation; you knew you were destined to give in. it was only a matter of time.

“I thought you could--.”

“—Nope. You started the job, so you should finish it.”

Smiling, you bit your bottom lip. “Does that go for my chest too?”

Henry’s eyes dropped to your breasts and rested there for a few seconds before he looked back into your eyes with a completely cheeky expression on his face. “Well—that is entirely up to you, Ms. Taylor.”

Like a child, you giggled most uncharacteristically. Slapping your hand across your mouth, Henry laughed at you. “Oh god.”

You sprayed across his chest and abs but hesitated touching him. Instead, you stood there gawking at the way his chest glistened. It’s not that you didn’t want to feel. You really, really wanted to feel. You just didn’t think you would be able to not come across as a thirsty fiend. Henry waited patiently waited no doubt taking notice of how you were beginning to hyperventilate. After a minute, he took a step back.

“Here, I’ll finish the job—this time.”

You dropped to the blanket and laid back, trying to recover. You couldn’t believe this was life right now. You’d never been attracted to anyone like this. You never struggled like this with anyone, and that reality was a little alarming. Peeking up, you watched as Henry finished rubbing the sunscreen into his chest, spreading it along his swollen shoulders and bulging arms. Your mouth ran dry while another part of you was anything but.

While proving to be a heightened temptation, a day at the beach was just what the vacation doctors ordered. The roaring sun, the breeze with the salt in the air, and the screams and laughs of people enjoying themselves were wonderful. You didn’t think about work not once, or anything beyond the man beside you reading a book and the book you were reading while the soft sounds of jazz drifted between you. It was perfect.

Every so often, your eyes drifted to Henry and took in different parts of him. Everything you saw you liked, and the fact that you liked it, only helped your brain daydream even more. There were a few times he caught you staring at him just as you caught him staring at you or parts of your body. When you did catch him, it only emboldened you to play up different parts of your body. You were relieved to know he at least still found you attractive.

When he goaded you into the water, the two of you played in the waves. The first time Henry splashed you and got water in your hair, you made gasped and pretended to make a big deal about it, which prompted him to apologize profusely. You considered it payback until you tackled him in the water, holding him underneath until he lifted you in his arms like he was Goliath. Your eyes locked, and there was a moment you thought he would kiss you, but instead, he tossed you into the water. That one action began a water war that he easily won thanks to his colossal size and overpowering strength. You didn’t mind.

By the time you’d sat to enjoy the picnic lunch Henry had packed, only a handful of people had recognized the two of you and asked for autographs and pictures. It really was the perfect first day of vacation, and you already didn’t want it to end. After lunch, you and Henry were walking along the shore, enjoying the lull of water crashing onto your ankles like you had no cares in the world.

~~~~~~~~

-Henry-

You were gorgeous, more gorgeous than you’d ever been. You were drop dead with make-up on, but without you were a knockout. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, and he knew you had to know. There was no way that you didn’t. He didn’t start the day with any expectations because he really didn’t know what to expect, but it had turned out to be a great day. He looked across to you and took in your curled and coiled hair that framed your face and gave you an even more youthful glow.

“So your hair is naturally curly?”

You smiled and nodded as you turned to look at him.

“Curly, coiled, kinky, it’s a bunch of stuff.”

“So you straighten it.”

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

He was confused. “Why?”

With your brows knitted together, you took him in. “What do you mean why?”

“Why? I can imagine it takes a lot of time. So, why do you do it?”

You scoffed but didn’t speak right away. He allowed you the time to think.

“Well—in the business, it’s easier. As horrible as it is, there are not many people who will cast the black actress with unruly hair or will have the right people who can do it properly. It’s a huge thing for black actresses, and unfortunately, can be the reason why many don’t get a role. So for me—I guess I got used to directors or photographers preferring the sleek look, so I just—maintain it. No one really cares for this,” you said, motioning to your hair.

He understood what you were saying. Hollywood was fickle; he was living through it right now but couldn’t believe people's ignorance.

“I like your hair right now. I like how free and beautiful it is. You don’t look—bound. You look free.”

Your eyes met his, but he couldn’t read the look in them.

“Oh uh—thank—you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a smile. “You should just leave it alone from now on.”

You snorted. “Oh, is this how you want to see me?”

He could hear the tease in your tone, “Free and beautiful? Absolutely.”

Again the look in your eyes stumped him. Before he could ask you what you were thinking, you looked away and back out to the water.

“What if I want to see you like this from now on?”

He chuckled, “What, shirtless with bad hair?”

You laughed with him for a few seconds. “Well, nothing wrong with this view at all,” you said, making him blush.

“Oh, and for the record, your hair is anything but bad. When it’s all slicked to perfection, you look put together, but—I like the more…distressed you. You look free and boundless.”

The smile on his lips hadn’t slipped since you’d begun your walk, and staring at you, he didn’t think it would slip. You looked away and cleared your throat, something you’d been doing a lot the entire day.

“I’ll make a deal with you. You keep this look going, and I’ll keep this look going,” you proposed piquing his interest.

“Do we have a deal?”

“All right, we have a deal,” he sealed, holding out his hand for you to shake. When you did, you smiled mischievously.

“Good,” you said before you pushed him into the water and the incoming wave.

Shock flooded him though he should have known from the glint in your eye he’d picked up.

“Did you really?”

With pride and joy, you nodded, “I sure did.”

As he stood, he wiped his face of the water and chuckled to himself.

“As a gentleman, I will give you a four-second head start,” he announced.

“Four seconds?”

“Three now.”

You squealed and ran down the beach, trying to put as much distance between you as possible. It was futile. He was fast. Once he’d counted down, he took off after you. When you looked back to see him coming, you screamed louder and tried to pick up the speed, but as he said, he was fast. In a few short seconds, he caught you and immediately began tickling you, making you scream even louder.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you shouted through bouts of laughter and screams.

“No, no, too late for that.”

With you in his arms, he brought you to the water facing you out so you could see the massive wave coming in. You screamed again while kicking your legs, trying to get him to drop you, but it was no use. Seeing there was no way out, you stopped screaming, but when he tossed you into the wave, you screamed until the water engulfed you. He stepped back and waited for you to wash up on the shore. When you did, he proceeded to tickle you some more until you tripped him and rolled onto him to retaliate.

Though he hadn’t let on that he was ticklish, you figured it out and exploited it mercilessly. The tickling led to both of you playfully throwing wet sand at each other while waves knocked you down. When he grabbed you, he smeared the wet sand across your chest below your collar, making you scream. That was when you coated his chest down to his waist. He pulled you to him rubbing his chest over yours to make sure you were as lathered as he was.

“Oh my god!”

A wave crashed over the two of you, nearly drowning you—nearly. When the water receded, you were still there in his arms, practically underneath him. he took in your beauty, and all he wanted to do was kiss you. he almost did before he stopped remembering what had led you to this point. He was tired of proving and showing you he wanted you—wanted to be with you. It was your turn to prove to him that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. That was when another wave washed over you, dampening the mood. He was thankful for it.

Once he was standing, he pulled you upright.

“Ready to go?”

You nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

After leaving the beach, the two of you walked along the shops that decorated the surrounding area. He pointed out all the places he’d visited over the last few days. He knew some of the shop owners by their names, and it was something you liked for some reason. After the first few shops, you decided to pick up something for dinner and spent the next few minutes trying to decide just what to get.

“Any special requests?”

Henry’s surprise only lasted a few minutes before the smile you were getting so used to appeared.

“You’re cooking?”

“Yep.”

His surprise turned to awe as he circled you once. “You can pick whatever you want,” he whispered in your ear before he walked to a stack of cans.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, assuring you that you were good to make the decision.

“Do you eat a lot?”

“Do you?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” you said in an exaggerated tone that had Henry laughing.

As you walked around the store, you placed various items in the basket that Henry carried. Some peppers, scallions, garlic, onions, mushrooms, and plenty of herbs followed before you walked across the way to a seafood shop. You thought about something simple like salmon but changed your mind when you saw lobsters and said what the hell. You were only going to get two, but Henry piped up and tricked you into four, citing your insatiable appetite. Deep down, you wondered what appetite exactly he was referring to, for food or him. A trip to the local spirits shop had you stocked for more than just one night.

When you made it back to the villa, Henry was the one to carry the bags to the kitchen, not letting you lift anything but the beach bag you’d left with at the start of your day. You met him in the kitchen in time to see him hoist everything onto the island.

“All right, you’re all set there.”

“Thank you, Superman.”

He smiled and helped you unpack the items in the bags, laying them out on the counters and the island. Once that was finished, you made a move to the door.

“I’m going to take a shower. I can feel sand everywhere.”

What was to be a relatively quick shower quickly turned long because you needed to wash your hair and treat it, so you didn’t have any residual salt damage. No one liked breaking hair. That alone usually took almost an hour. Instead of going for the full experience, you cut a few corners in the routine but still managed to complete it. After throwing on a pair of shorts and a tank, you made your way back to the kitchen, ready to cook one of the best meals he’d ever have.

With soft music playing and a towel wrapped around your hair while your leave-in heat treatment did what it was made to, you began prepping the ingredients. The soft music and time alone gave you more time to process the perfect day you’d just had. There was nothing about it that you’d change, even down to the intense tension that was constantly between you. If another day played out the same way, you still would think it was perfect.

“All right, I’m clean now. Would you like some help?”

Henry stood behind you in a tank and sweats with his hair full of curls.

“Sure, you can actually prove to me that you know what you’re doing in here,” you teased as he approached your side.

“I’m about to knock your knickers off.”

You snorted and peeped at him. “Promise.”

The flustered look on his face said he just realized the land mind he’s just stepped into. Pushing it to the side, you focused on the chives you were chopping.

“What would you like me to do?”

Looking around the kitchen, you assessed everything that needed to be done then delegated.

“Those veggies need to be rough diced and washed.”

“Consider it done,” Henry replied, stepping away to begin prep. Before he began, though, he walked to one of the bottles of wine you’d just gotten, popped it, and poured two glasses.

“A little vino for you.”

Smiling, you took the glass. “Thank you.”

The two of you worked together chopping, dicing, and slicing the vegetables and herbs and the seafood for dinner. Every few minutes, your eyes met, and you giggled. Once the cooking began, Henry teased you about your towel wrapped hair, saying that was how magazine covers should show you. You watched his form and how he handled his knives and liked how he moved. He handled knives like he’d been doing it his whole life.

When you saw him perfectly Julianne cut the cucumbers you practically drooled and were ready to push him against that island. You loved a man who could handle himself in the kitchen. Pumping iron and weights and a nice body was great, but cooking dinner for someone because you care, was a supreme turn on.

When the lobster was steaming and the potatoes boiling, you leaned beside him and watched him kneed the dough he was prepping for what he called his famous sugar rolls.

“So mentioned you have nieces or nephews? I don’t remember which,” you began.

“Yes. Three nephews, no nieces.”

“Cool. What’re their names?”

Henry smiled as he spoke, “James and Peter and Lucas.”

“Strong names.”

“Yeah, Nik and Charlie picked them,” he said.

“Nik—he’s the older brother, right?”

“Oldest. I’m surprised you remember.”

“No girl?”

“Ha, Charlie really wants a girl. He has a son Lucas but dreams about having a daughter.”

“Nice. I have two nephews, Niko and Milo, and a niece Aloa, my oldest sister Miesha,” you added.

The way Henry smiled, you could tell he liked kids. “That’s nice. Do you see them a lot?”

“I try. It’s hard, though, with my schedule.”

He nodded, then shifted to the sink to rinse off the cucumbers before beginning with the carrots.

“I understand.”

With your curiosity piqued, you decided to dive right in. “So you like kids.”

“Love kids,” he replied. “You?”

“Uh—yeah. They’re precious.”

“I’m guessing you’re close to your brothers.”

“Oh god, yes, really, really close. We talk several times a day. They’re my first call when something good or bad happens, and it’s the same for them.”

“That’s good. I’m close to mine too. We don’t talk every day, but I try. I do have a twin, so we don’t need to talk. We just know what’s going on with each other,” you explained.

“How is that having a twin?”

You shrugged and put a piece of cucumber into your mouth. “It’s everyday like for me. I don’t know what to say,” you said with a small chuckle.

“Are all the clichés true?”

You scoffed and went back to keeping yourself busy. “What clichés exactly?”

“Oh, you know that you feel each other’s pain and feel what the other feels, oh that you know what they’re thinking.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “It’s not like I fall down the stairs, and he feels me fall. That’s just impossible.”

Henry nodded and moved to rinse the carrots.

“Yeah, it’s more like a constant presence I feel. You—you never really feel alone, sort of like this constant connection or feeling like someone always has your back. We can feel what the other feels a lot of the time, but it’s sort of like a gut feeling more than an actual physical feeling. There are times he’ll feel when I’m sad and crying, and it’s incredibly annoying.”

“I can imagine,” Henry started.

Feeling his eyes on you, you turned to face him and waited for him to speak.

“Does he feel everything—your moments of happiness or—pleasure?”

Snorting, you laughed loudly, unable to keep it in.

“Happiness, I think there could be valid proof to that. As for pleasure, no idea. It’s never been brought up but kinda creepy to think about that.”

You both busted out laughing, realizing just how creepy it would be if there were any validity to that. Cooking together turned out to be really fun. Usually, you hated people in your space, but with Henry, you didn’t mind it at all. You didn’t mind the subtle way his body brushed yours whenever he passed you. You didn’t mind the sly looks across the kitchen when he took a sip of his wine. You didn’t mind the flirtation in the air, and when he watched you make your lemon cake for dessert, you didn’t mind that he was learning one of your secret recipes. It was something you felt you could get used to.

Two hours later, you were bringing out one of the platters to the dining table in the yard just in time to catch Henry putting a clay vase filled with beautiful lavender and rapeseed flowers. The purple and yellow combo was so bright it looked like it belonged with the décor around you.

“Wow, would you look at that,” you began eyeing the perfectly set table. “You can set a table too.”

His smile was wide. “I sure can.”

“With the proper place settings. I’m impressed.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and slowly licked his lips as he shrugged. “I didn’t go to finishing school or anything but--,” Henry trailed off, making you laugh at the sly reference to you.

“Oh, okay, Mr. Cavill.”

You backed away with your hands raised, making your way back to the kitchen with him following close behind. You pointed to him the items to go, and he walked with you back outside.

“I know you think I eat a lot, but--.”

“Oh, stop it. I am sure you have to have a high-calorie intake to maintain your Superman shape, so—ta-da,” you said, giving him jazz hands in front of the food-filled table.

“Oh, so you’re looking out for me, huh.”

“Of course. What else is your girlfriend supposed to do?”

Henry’s smile slowly slipped before it reappeared but only for a second. “Girlfriend, huh?”

Just like that, your stomach fell through the floor, fully realizing what you’d said. Now you felt like an idiot especially seeing his reaction.

“Um—well--.”

Not waiting for you to respond, Henry walked to your chair and pulled it out for you.

“Uh—give me a second,” you said, bending forward to pull the towel off of your head.

It had been well past the forty-five minutes you usually kept it on for, and you didn’t want to eat with this heavy thing on your head. Using your fingers, you combed through your curls then stood up to face him. This was practically the first time you stood before a man that wasn’t part of your family with your hair natural. You hated that you felt self-conscience about it. The look on his face was a lot different this time. His eyes were wide, and his mouth ajar.

“Sorry. Thanks,” you said, slipping into the chair.

Once he’d pushed you in, he sat across from you.

“So I know you love your beer and steak,” you began with a smile. “So the steak is cooked in Guinness—a lot of Guinness.”

Henry chuckled and assessed the steak on his plate while nodding.

“Bon appetite.”

Once henry put a slice of the steak in his mouth, he moaned and gave you the chef’s kiss. You knew exactly what it meant, the good ol seal of approval.

“This is really good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

After putting another slice of steak into his mouth, he nodded. “I love it. you’re a great cook.”

“Thank you. I tried to tell you.”

Henry chuckled, giving you a slight roll of his eyes before he continued eating. He was right dinner was good. While you ate, you enjoyed the setting sun and conversation about music, good food, and good wine. One bottle of wine quickly finished, then you were cracking open another and another. When dinner was finished, you sat there listening to the stories of his childhood where his mother played referee between five boys. The way he talked about her made her sound like a saint. It was clear to see how much he admired and loved her. That made you like him even more.

By the time you climbed into bed for the night, your mind was racing a mile a minute, and all your thoughts were of Henry and the probability that he just might be the perfect man. That thought scared you even more than there being something wrong with him. If he were perfect, then it meant he was perfect for you, and perfect for you meant commitment, complications, and vulnerability while opening the stage for possible heartbreak. Even through the fear, one constant remained—you wanted him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#kismet fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill x black ofc #slow burn fanfic #black fanfiction

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feralnumberfive · 3 years

Text

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 6 of Season 1

“The Day That Wasn’t”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it’s funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

| 1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04 | 1x05 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ Klaus is lucky that he never got the briefcase shot up

☂ *Hears Klaus flush the toilet and talk* Luther: Oh good, you’re up

☂ Also Luther gave Klaus about two seconds to get up before hounding him again on getting downstairs

☂ Sounds like Tom’s accent slipped a little bit when he said “three days”

☂ Yeah they needed to have a family meeting right away and yet they took the time to go get coffee or at least order it and have it delivered

☂ “Old bastard” and “Our little psycho”

☂ I still don’t get at this point how they wouldn’t believe Five. Look at him, he himself is evidence of his time traveling! He was gone for 45 years, but to them it was only 17. Either way they try to grasp at that, Five would look older if he made it back without messing up. He knew about their father’s death without anyone telling him. I really think all the mistrust comes from the way he looks and the way he acts (they obviously believe he’s just crazy right now)

☂ “What did Five even see?”

☂ Also throw back to 1x02 and I didn’t realized this until now but Five doesn’t have his tie

☂ I know it’s for the title card gag but no one questions the random umbrella falling and popping open

☂ I aspire to be as sarcastic as Hazel

☂ So where exactly is The Commission HQ at? Is it a random location in the real world? If so then wouldn’t normal people happen to stumble upon it? What about their location in space in the comics? Is this in space?? All we know is that it’s in/based off of the year 1955

☂ “I’d like to discuss the logistics of my family’s safety at your earliest convenience.” He cuts right to what’s most important to him. No “How will you stop the apocalypse?” or “What’s my job?” and even “How will my body replacement work?”

☂ Five sounds almost like he’s snapped back into a work mindset. He's suddenly polite and calm with The Handler. Maybe being back in a work environment has made his brain automatically switch into being more professional. However he might also be acting this way to try to throw her off of him being antsy with a plan

☂ Here's some Commission posters shown throughout 1x06

☂ One of us, one of us, one of us-

☂ So basically The Commission makes up history? How do they know what to do and when to make something happen? How do they know it’s right? And what’s The Commission supposed to do when the world ends? Haven't they already fixed stuff in the past or are there just continuous time loops so they need to make sure things happen over and over again? If multiple historical events happen with multiple ways they are made, then which one gets to be in the original timeline??

☂ Dot: No hard feelings! 😁

Ma’am does it look like he’s going to accept that

☂ Wait why are Hazel and Cha-Cha considered the best Temporal Assassins if Five was/is the best?

☂ Well Five has the job of taking down the Hindenburg again but this time from behind a desk. So it’s possible to accomplish “corrections” without actually having assassins do the work. So I guess there’s just so many timelines that they need to fix every single one of them over and over? That sounds like a pain in the ass

☂ TUA portraits!

☂ Y’know I have to agree with Allison on this one. Vanya was left out, however she’s offering to talk with her about the important family matter and Vanya is just denying it. I get she’s upset, but her sister is offering to include her. After Vanya leaves Allison immediately wants to go after her to talk with her. On the other hand Allison should have told her it was an emergency meeting and that they didn’t have the time to ask Vanya to join them

☂ Klaus seems genuinely concerned/upset for Vanya

☂ “We need to figure out what causes the apocalypse. Now, there are loads of possibilities. Nuclear war, asteroids.” Wow spot on, Luther! I can’t believe they actually included foreshadowing for both apocalypses (even though technically it was a chunk of the moon, not an asteroid.) I wonder how much foreshadowing for S3 was put into S2.......

☂ I know it’s big joke about Luther and the moon, but the poor guy just really believes that he was on the moon for an important reason. I mean if I were in his shoes I would believe him too since he had to send a lot of daily updates and samples

☂ “Klaus shockingly has a point. What gives us a win this time?” Shhhh careful Diego, he’s right behind you

☂ Luther is initially the only one onboard with Five on trying to stop the apocalypse. All the others want to go off and do their own thing before the world ends. He tries to get The Umbrella Academy back together to work as a team, but his leadership skills are now severely lacking. Do people *cough cough* mainly people who hate him *cough cough* overlook Luther wanting to also get his family together to stop the apocalypse with his family? Definitely.

☂ “We need the full force of the Academy to stand a chance.” Well golly gee, Allison, what did did Luther just try to do? Was that not him trying to round up all of The Umbrella Academy to stop the apocalypse?

☂ Even though Vanya is ranting, how does she not hear all the creaking metal and shaking cars?

☂ *it’s sunny around them but just the block they’re walking on is rainy until she calms down* “ThAt’S a CoInCiDeNcE.”

☂ The hall floor and Diego’s floor are so dusty

☂ It’s sweet that Diego wants Klaus to get clean in a safe way instead of going cold turkey

☂ Dot, what does “utter silence” mean to you?

☂ “Look at you, deadly little thing.” You’re not wrong, but I don’t think he appreciates being called “thing”

☂ Such a smug smile

☂ So how does Five know all of this about Karl and his son? Does it talk about Otto never washing his hands in the file? That seems like an oddly specific detail but I guess in a case file it gives as many details as possible for the worker to figure out who needs to get assassinated

☂ There are a few cog references all relating to The Commission, so I wonder if this is a nod to “Teenagers” or if they’re just using this terminology

☂ Odd tattoos (sorry for the super blurry pic)

☂ “Can I ask you a cuckoo bananas question?” Hazel is such a fun guy

☂ “Wouldn’t it be nice to kill who you want for a change?” You mean like straight up unhinged murder?

☂ The first time I watched this Hazel and Cha-Cha scene I for sure thought that Hazel was a dead man

☂ This scene just absolutely breaks my heart 💔

☂ *skips 25:24-27:42*

☂ Diego is just so accepting to everything Klaus is saying

☂ I’m sorry, are we suddenly on the set of The Phantom of the Opera?

☂ Diego, I think you’re forgetting a very important person in your life who you let down too who is also dead......(poor Ben can’t believe what his brother just said so he leaves)

☂ “Ordinary is not a word I’d use to describe you.” You’re right, it’s “Extra Ordinary” ha! Sorry Vanya, I had to use that joke

☂ Well at least we know Five ate a sandwich

☂ How exciting! The same division that made a simple candy taste like a candy from the past, but technically it’s not the past since The Commission HQ is based in 1955, is building a human body! That sounds so promising

☂ Sooooo whatever happened to Five’s new body? Is it just sitting in a lab somewhere?? Or is The Handler just lying about it to try to get Five to stay at The Commission?

☂ With the amount of time Five was staring at the suit, it obviously hurt him to know that while he has a new body within reach, he’s not going to get it because he’s about to leave

☂ “Course it’s a bit easier to see from 30,000 feet.” What is she talking about Reconnaissance aircraft? There was no mention of aircraft though so why would she bring that up? My closest guess is that she’s referring to strategic bombing in general, or even the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki

☂ It sounds like Five suddenly has a New York accent when he says “operator” when talking to The Handler about Gloria

☂ Fuck you, Veggie Tales Hargreeves

☂ *skips 36:47-39:48*

☂ Well there’s your hit, Klaus

☂ I love the camera moving with Klaus as he falls and the transition into Vietnam

☂ “Lock and load, Charlie’s away!” Wikipedia’s definition of a “Charlie” is an American military slang referring to the Viiet Cong and North Vietnamese soldiers

☂ Klaus desperately calling out for a medic hurts my heart

☂ Well Luther if you had left then your body wouldn’t be the way it is now

☂ *fucking skips 45:41-50:00*

☂ Ooooh I just really love the entirety of the “Kill Of The Night” scene! If you listen to the lyrics it’s about someone luring someone into a trap to get revenge because they messed with the wrong person (it’s also about love but we’re going to ignore that part). I personally believe it’s aimed at The Commission from Five because the entire time it plays he’s messing things up for them and in some way it’s like a little bit of revenge from him

☂ Why is Gloria confused on who Hazel and Cha-Cha are? Hasn’t she heard their names a ton of times especially since they’re some of the best assassins?

☂ How did Five know which tubes to put the messages in?

☂ You can see at this part how Five immediately gets anxious and antsy. He has a wild look in his eyes. From this point onwards he’s constantly moving, shaking with energy, anticipation, and probably a little bit of anger

☂ “You’re a great disappointment to me.” That’s definitely not the first time he’s heard that

☂ “I don’t belong anywhere thanks to you. You made me a killer!” The first part of that stings. Obviously he feels like he doesn’t belong anywhere, but again I think has to do with the whole “good” and “bad” thing that’s going on. He feels like he doesn’t belong at home because he’s “bad” and has done a lot of dark stuff to get home (it doesn’t help that Luther voiced his acknowledgment of this to Five and now he has that in his mind that Luther knows and somewhat views him as “bad”). Five 100% feels shame in what he has done, and definitely has an issue of coming back to his family with blood on his hands form what he has done. He doesn’t belong in The Commission anymore because he doesn’t want to stay there to do their dirty work to kill or give out kill orders. He’s done with that or at least wants to be done with that life.

The last statement though is Five taking his anger and guilt about being becoming an assassin out on The Handler. She brought him into The Commission, which in turn he became the best assassin across The Space-Time Continuum. It’s not something he’s proud of, and he never enjoyed killing (as much as I want it to be the DNA alteration I just don’t think it exists in the show or at least not yet). However The Handler replies with “You were always a killer. I just pointed you in a direction.” which you can immediately tell has struck a chord with Five. For the briefest second he looks taken aback and his eyes ever so slightly open wider in shock, whether he took that as the truth or just a terrible accusation isn’t exactly clear. Either way he doesn’t like being accused or hearing the truth out loud of always being able to be murderous, a killer.

I believe it’s a mixture of The Handler just trying to get into his head and a combination of the truth. Reginald trained The Umbrella Academy to use brute force, but that doesn’t mean Five had killed anyone but he was definitely violent when it came to stopping bad guys (not to mention in the pilot script he was called a “Ruthless little war machine” after violently attacking and decapitating a bunch of mannequins)

☂ Diego: I’m going to go kill Hazel and Cha-Cha!........Riiiiight after I get done walking with my mom in the park

☂ He’s so happy to see Klaus again

☂ ✨Gremlin✨

☂ Who exactly does Five owe a debt to? Maybe his family after accidentally leaving them and now he wants to save them? Or is it a singular person?

☂ Ouch! Now that’s what I call a problem later!

☂

☂ Five using “Ya’ll” is weird to hear

☂ Five is talking to his siblings like he knows what’s been happening but in reality he’s rarely been at home so how would he know

☂ I love that Five doesn't even answer Diego at the end and instead just stares at his siblings

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

#surprise here's another long over due post!#tra #the rewatch academy #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy

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folkreid · 3 years

Text

Everything has changed

TYPE: fluff

WORD COUNT: 1.8K

SONG MENTIONED: Everything Has Changed- Taylor Swift

SPENCERS POV

When I enter the grocery store something is off. Where is she?

The she I was talking about was the woman. She was always here at the same time as me. It's 3 AM. Which is a weird time to go to the store. Why I go to the store so early is a story.

One day I got home from a case and noticed I didn't have anything. No milk. No coffee beans. Nothing.

It was 3AM and this was the only store open 24/7.

FLASHBACK

This store looks sorta sketchy. I don't know if I should go in.

I walk in slowly going to the back of the store where it had a big sign saying "MILK".

I see a lady in pajamas, I understand it's early but everyone else here is dressed. Her pajamas had small little red monsters on them. She picks out candies, lost and lots of candies.

Her hair was messy, long and messy. Grown out bangs messed up in her face. She was really pretty. I'm intrigued.

I grab my milk and go to the line she was in. It took a while, she had a conversation with the worker. She then said goodbye to the other workers that where there. Did she know them?

I walk up to the line. "Just the milk?" the cashier asked. Shit. I was supposed to get other things, I guess I just got distracted by her. "Uh yeah" I respond. "Sorry for the wait" she tells me. "It's fine, do you know that girl?" I ask pulling out my wallet from my pocket. "Yeah, she comes every Sunday and buys a whole bunch of candy, she talks to everyone here, she's really sweet" the cashier responds. I give her a couple dollars for my milk and thank her before walking out.

I walk out and see the girl from earlier on the bench eating some candy. It was a green lollipop. I wonder if she's okay? What if she's a homeless? Or on drugs? Or mentally ill?

Maybe I should just leave her alone.

END OF FLASHBACK

Ever since that day I've gone to the market every Sunday at 3AM. I've listened to some of the conversations she would have with the workers. Turns out she's in college right now. I'm not sure for what. No boyfriend, no children, hardly any family. She also once said that she buys the candy because she baby sits children and gives it to them as a reward.

I look around the store. She really isn't here? She's always here. I turn back around and I bump into someone. Shit it's her. "S-sorry I wasn't watching where I was going" I quickly apologized. "No i'm sorry, it's my fault I was on my phone" she nervously said.

We stood there in silence for a couple seconds before she speaks up. "I-I'm Y/n by the way" she smiles looking up at me. "Spencer, Spencer Reid" I smile at her. "I notice you come here often" she says. "Y-Yeah, you do too" I reply.

"Yeah I usually stay in the parking lot for a while and listen to music" she slightly giggles. Adorable. "Last week I passed your car and I think you were listening to You Belong With Me?" I say hoping I was correct.

Her face lit up. "You know that song?" she gives a flashy smile. "I um my friend Penelope loves that song, and I memorized the lyrics" I look down at my feet. "Do you maybe wanna get coffee sometime?" she smiled cheeky. "Uh- I um- Y-yeah I would like that".

I hope i'm not scaring her away with my nervousness.

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Three months. We've been together for three months. I've never been so happy. I am a man of science, I don't believe in fate but that's what it feels like.

I hear a knock on my door. Y/n is here! I open the door and engulf her in a huge hug, I squeeze her tightly. I think I might be in love with her. She wraps her arms around my waist. "Hey baby" she squeezes me nuzzling her head into my chest. I kiss her forehead. "Come in babe" I tell move out the way so she can come in.

On our first month anniversary I took her on a date to the fair. Our second month I took her on a picnic date. Y/n said she just wanted to spend the whole day with me.

"Do you want me to order food?" I ask her, she starts walking to my room. "Yeah you choose" she flops down on my bed.

I order our food. I lie on my bed, lying my head on her chest. I wrap my arm around her waist. "Oh! Baby do you want to listen to my new favorite song" she smiles at me. "Of course I do babe". Y/n scoots down leveling her face with mine. She grabs her phone and starts playing the song.

All I knew

This morning when I woke

Is I know something now

Know something now I didn't before

And all I've seen

Since eighteen hours ago

Is green eyes and freckles and your smile

In the back of my mind making me feel like

Y/n sings along to the lyrics softly. The song says "And all i've seen since eighteen hours ago is green eyes, freckles and your smile"

But Y/n changed green eyes, freckles and your smile too "brown eyes beautiful smile". She possibly changed the lyrics for me, I wouldn't get my hopes up. She stares into my eyes and kisses me softly.

just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you, know you, know you

She kisses me all over my face. "I'm really happy with you" she whispers playing with my bottom lip. "I am too" I put an arm around her waist bringing her closer. She lies her head on my chest.

Cause all I know is we said, "Hello"

And your eyes look like comin' home

All I know is a simple name

And everything has changed

All I know is you held the door

You'll be mine and I'll be yours

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

Y/n holds me tightly on this part of the song. I can tell she feels it too. It's like this song was made for us. I feel like lyrics. We sat there mainly silent apart from Y/n's soft hums. I don't believe in soulmates or love at first sight but this felt so magical. I know she was made for me. We've only known each other officially for 5 months, we've been dating for 3.

These past three months have been the best.

I hear a knock on the door, our food must be here. "Our food is here i'm gonna go get it okay?" I ask her. She nods pausing her the song we were listening too.

I go get the food pay the man and go back to my room. Where is Y/n? I knock on the restroom door no reply. I go back to my room. Where is she?!

"Boo!" she scream coming out from behind the door. I jump, almost dropping the food. She jumps onto my bed laughing. "Y/n/n! I could've dropped our food!" I exclaim. "Well you didn't so..."

She comes to me grabbing the food from my hands and putting it down on the table. She then wraps her arms around my waist. She slaps my butt. "Ow! Y/n! Don't touch my butt!" she giggles at my reaction.

"Why? Your butt is cute" she gives my butt a squeeze. "That's enough" I pull her arms from around me and she pouts.

We eat our food and talk about our weeks. Y/n recently graduated from college. I'm so proud of her. She has a job interview next week, she says she's really excited. I'm excited for her!

We finish our food and lie back down. "Can we finish listening to the song, I'm dedicating it to you so you better not break my heart" she cups my face in her hands making sure I look her in the eye. "I won't I promise" she smiles giving me a quick peck.

And all my walls

Stood tall painted blue

But I'll take 'em down, take 'em down

And open up the door for you

And all I feel

In my stomach is butterflies

The beautiful kind, makin' up for lost time

Takin' flight, makin' me feel like

I watch as she sings the lyrics to her hear contents. She was so perfect. What if she doesn't love me back?

I just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you, know you, know you

'Cause all I know is we said, "Hello"

And your eyes look like comin' home

All I know is a simple name

Everything has changed

All I know is you held the door

And you'll be mine and I'll be yours

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

"Spence?" she mumbled. "Yes?" I look down at her. She looks up at me with innocent eyes. "I love you" she quietly says. "What do you say?" I pretend I didn't hear. "Nothing" she lies back on my chest.

Come back and tell me why

I'm feelin' like I've missed you all this time

And meet me there tonight

And let me know that it's not all in my mind

she holds me tightly as she sings those lyrics. That's exactly how I feel. "I love you too" I whisper. She get up with a shocked look on his face. "R-Really?". "Of course I do" she stares at me in awe.

"Get up" she says standing up. I stand and she grabs my hand. "Let's dance"

"I don't know how to Y/n" I confess. "Neither do I" she smiles. I pull her into my chest as we rock back and forth to the rest of the song.

just wanna know you better, know you better, know you better now

I just wanna know you, know you, know you

All I know is we said, "Hello"

Your eyes look like comin' home

All I know is a simple name

And everything has changed

All I know is you held the door

You'll be mine and I'll be yours

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

All I know is we said, "Hello"

So dust off your highest hopes

All I know is pouring rain

And everything has changed

All I know is a new found grace

All my days, I'll know your face

All I know since yesterday

Is everything has changed

Everything has changed.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fan fiction

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c-c-cherry · 4 years

Note

What's the most embarrassing thing each of the Bucci gang has done/has had happen to them?

Ok I took WAY too long on this but I loved this question so much and it was so fun coming up with these. Special thanks to my girl @jjadegreen for helping me!!

**This isn’t NSFW but I’d say its teen and up just because of some of the stuff talked about hehe**

______________________

Mista

-Pre-canon Mista was a bit sick one night so Bruno made him stay home while they all went on this one mission

-So naturally he’s like “HELL YEAH HOME ALONE”

-Bruno forgets his wallet and had to come back a little while later to get it and walks in on him wearing the following:

One of Abbacchio’s signature goth dress robe thing

Like 12 of Bruno’s barrettes all sticking to the top of his head

Fugo’s tie

Narancia’s bandana

All while BLASTING K-Pop at full volume in the living room. And our man is INTO IT. This isn’t just some radio coincidence shit, he was SCREAMING the lyrics. He owns the CDs.

-Bucciarati LOSES IT. Mista has never been so mortified in his life and Bruno has never laughed so hard in his life.

-He promises not to tell the rest of the gang but tells him it’s officially blackmail material

-They never speak of it again but at Christmas Mista opens Bruno’s gift and it's a brand new K-pop CD and everyone thinks its just a gag gift but like

-He definitely listens to it later alone in his room

Bucciarati

Bruno Bucciarati does not get drunk for two main reasons:

He blacks out every time

He’s an absolute lightweight

-The last time Bruno got absolutely piss drunk, he was with Abbacchio and it wasn’t even funny. It was just surreal because Bucciarati never lets himself go to such an extent

-For whatever reason Bruno is like “hey I never drink we should go to the bar or something” after a successful mission

-Even though the legal age of drinking is technically 16 in Italy they leave “the kids” home to watch mean girls or some shit

-Mista tags along too because he’s worried Bruno will get drunk and spill about the unfortunate “K-pop incident”

-My man Bruno drank like two beers and was immediately GONE like he got up and got lost in the bar after way too many drinks and ran into a drag Queen with Abbacchio’s hair

-Said drag queen became Bruno Bucciarati’s new drinking buddy

-He stumbles over to the karaoke contest and gets onstage and grabs the shitty bar mic and screams “THIS GOES OUT TO LEONE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MWUA TWO YEARS HONEY~” and Mista is just like 👁👄👁

-Because uhhh they have literally been together for two years but everyone in the gang just thinks its a weird on/off thing because they never talk about it

-He sings dancing queen because its by ABBA and both Leone and Mista are fucking screaming with laughter and Abbacchio is filming the entire goddamn thing

-He buys the entire bar drinks they all love him so much

-Afterwards Leone tries to get them home so he leaves them outside while he takes a piss and when he walks back out THEY ARE GONE.

-Mista thought it would be a perfect time for them to get tattoos because his fucking capo is drunk off his ass and there is no better time

-Mista gets these two giant smoking guns on his back and his ass is in SO MUCH PAIN afterward that he leaves Bruno alone while he’s picking out his tattoo to get ice cream

-When he comes back Bruno has a tattoo ON HIS LEFT FOOT THAT SAYS “Never don’t give up.” The tattoo people tried to correct him but he insisted

-Abba finds them and is just like “jesus god” and takes them all to a hotel because there is no way in hell he’s taking them back home like this

-The next morning Bruno remembers absolutely NOTHING and as the gang admires Mista’s giant tattoo they ask if Bruno got one too and he’s like “god no I’m not that irresponsible”

-As soon as they’re alone Abba’s like “you got one on the bottom of your foot” and you can just see the moment Bucciarati’s soul leaves his body

Fugo

-Ok so if y’all didn’t know Fugo literally canonically wears a thong

-This isn’t sexualizing him (also I am indeed a minor don’t harass me) it's just a fact of life. You do you Fugo.

-So he sneaks out of the house once in a while and goes shopping for them cause our man’s gotta live, you know?

-He pops in the underwear store one day and you wanna know who he fucking passes by in the lingerie section?

-Bruno fucking Bucciarati.

-Which isn’t exactly a surprise considering he’s wearing visible lingerie in his tiddy window outfit but like

-That’s like running into your dad at femboy hooters

-Much to his dismay, the man spots him immediately and there’s just this...awkward silence as Fugo is holding this shopping basket of underwear and Bruno is holding the raunchiest piece of clothing he’s ever seen in his life

-They never talk about it again. Fugo finds a different store.

Abbacchio

-The most mortifying moment Abbacchio can live to remember is the first time he told Bucciarati that he loved him

-Pre-canon, our man is NOT having a vibing time

-He gets absolutely wasted with while Bruno’s at his apartment

-He’s the most miserable drunk, so he’s just fucking sobbing and Bucci is sitting there trying to console him and Abbacchio just looks up at him with tears streaking down his face and says “I’m in love with you” and the look on Bruno’s face just makes him feel even more miserable

-The entire night he keeps blubbering about how much he loves him and how much he means to him and how beautiful he is and the entire time Bruno is doing that thing where he tries to cover his face with his hand because our man is mega FLUSTERED up in here

-When he wakes up he remembers EVERYTHING and he wished he didn’t because then maybe he would be able to say that he didn’t mean it

-Bruno is surprisingly just like “Did you really mean it?” and he can’t lie so he just tells the truth and he’s just nonchalantly like “me too”

-Bruno thinks it’ll be a nice wedding story and Abbacchio no longer wants to live on this planet

Narancia

-Mista and Narancia are vibing in the living room one night and Nara tells Mista to grab his gameboy from upstairs

-He says its under his pillow (or else Bruno will take it away every night hehe)

-But you wanna know what else is under Narancia’s pillow? His Diary. No, it’s not a journal or just a blank book, Mista finds a book titled DIARY.

-And the shit in there is priceless.

“Bucciarati is sooo cool. I tried cutting my hair like his, but it didn’t really work. I think I gotta wear this hat for the next couple weeks. Shit. Fuck. If someone takes it off, I’m so fucked.”

“I clogged up the toilet yesterday and was too scared to tell Abba, so I just flushed it again but then the water wouldn’t stop flooding everywhere so I used Aerosmith to explode the toilet and told Abba that it was a stand attack. He believed me. If ANYONE ever finds out, I’m dead.”

“HOLY SHIT. I swallowed a tide pod yesterday and freaked out so I made Giorno turn it into a grape in my stomach with his stand. I almost DIED. But I didn’t so I’m over it. If Giorno ever tells anyone, I’ll kill him.”

-Narancia realizes about ten minutes after Mista left that HOLY SHIT HIS DIARY

-he finds Mista three quarters way through it and gives him $50 not to tell anyone about it.

-The shame never leaves, though

Trish

-Jade gave me a cute headcanon that Trish’s mom was still only teaching her how to properly put on makeup before she died (it's not like there was youtube or anything to teach her either) so our girl Trish only knows the basics

-She puts on lip gloss and blush and mascara and stuff but she’s never even TOUCHED eyeliner and rarely puts on eyeshadow. She doesn’t even wear concealer most of the time (she honestly doesn’t even need to, her skin is baby soft smooth)

-So long story short she kind of misses her mom and remembers how her mom was going to teach her a smokey eye before she died and is determined to teach it to herself now

-So she pulls a little heist and snatches some of Abbacchio’s makeup while they’re all out doing stuff

-She was not prepared for how heavy this shit was. She was used to the lighter, more natural stuff but Abba’s makeup is EXTREME.

-All of his stuff is waterproof so it doesn’t wash off while he’s crying at 3am and it’s just this—dark, heavy stuff.

-She actually hasn’t used a thick, real tube of lipstick before, only those little gloss tubes with the stick because she has smaller lips so when she crouches over with a small makeup mirror in fear of anyone somehow walking in on her and smears Abbacchio’s thick, dark purple lipstick on her lips, she knew she was absolutely fucked. She has no idea how to do this shit, especially not with dark, heavy goth makeup

-The smokey eye does not work. It’s just smeared eyeshadow EVERYWHERE, it looks like she has two giant, awful, black eyes and her first attempt at eyeliner was just—unspeakably horrible

-She has no idea where to start so she just puts on way too much of absolutely everything and immediately regrets it the moment she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror

-Abba comes home early and immediately realizes that some of his makeup is gone and he knows it has to be Trish

-He walks upstairs to confront her but just hears loud, ugly sobbing coming from her room and bursts in only to find her desperately trying to wipe off layers of caked-on water-proof makeup and absolutely failing

-The two of them spend all night taking it off all while Trish is still crying teary apologies to him

-To add in some wholesome Dadbacchio, he teaches her how to properly put everything on the next day <3

Giorno

-Some people forget that as a 15 year old, Giorno sometimes has absolutely no impulse control

-So when Polnareff tells him that he’s the spitting image of his evil, murderous, vampire dad he’s immediately like “haha well I’m gonna go dye my hair now”

-Everyone had something to do that day/night so Giorno waltzes over to the nearest drug store and grabs one of those at-home dying kits (he got dark green cause he thought it would look cool with his new outfit)

-He gets home and has absolutely no idea what he’s doing so he just thinks it’ll work out somehow

-Soooo yeah he does NOT put it in properly at all, he just kind of takes the shit and slathers it all over his hair and doesn’t do his roots and doesn’t put it up and leaves it dripping down his back and stuff and his stupid ass FALLS ASLEEP with the hair dye in

-He wakes up and the sheets are this really awful light green colour but he doesn’t pay any mind to it

-He looks in the mirror and from the front it actually looks good and he gets all excited and decides to wash it out

-When he gets out of the shower it’s this awful disgusting light light ugly green and he almost cries. Almost.

-It looks like someone dunked him in that Nickelodeon slime and he looks at the package and it says the dye will stay in for at least 3 weeks and there aRE TEARY EYES

-He spends the next hour in the shower trying to wash it out. It does not wash out.

-Utterly defeated with his hair matted and donuts practically falling apart, he stumbles over to his room and tries to wash the sheets covered in slime-coloured hair dye which *surprise!!!* doesn’t wash out either!

-He must dispose of the evidence, but of COURSE they’re out of garbage bags so he shoves all the dye kit stuff and the sheets into a mafia body bag and chucks it by the garbage can outside without a single thought

-Which he SHOULD have had a single thought about it, because when they get home and Narancia spots the body bag he’s like “holy shit guys I think Giorno killed someone while we were out”

-So they all panically pop into the house and cautiously try to find Giorno. Fugo finally finds him pacing around his room in the dark and when he flicks on the lights HO-LY SHIT.

-Fugo obviously bursts out into laughter and Bruno books it up the stairs and also starts cackling and Narancia is like “OH MY GOD YOU KILLED SOMEONE LOOKING LIKE THAT?!” and Giorno has to explain to them that the body bag is filled with stained bedsheets (much to his embarrassment)

-Abbacchio takes so many pictures and Giorno is having a nervous breakdown because he cannot live with his hair looking like this

-Bruno makes Abba fix it the next morning and he loves every second of Giorno’s mortification

-The pictures Abbacchio took of that night are framed next to the pictures of Bruno’s wasted karaoke night in his room

______________________

Thank you for the ask, anon!! I’m absolutely exhausted now haha so I’ll scroll through the rest of the asks when I wake up!!

#jjba #ask-c-c-cherry #headcanons #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #bucci gang #giorno giovanna

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machine-gun-casie · 4 years

Text

Radio Interview

you just love talking about your boyfriend, machine gun kelly, and zach sang is not complaining.

a/n: if yall havent seen zach sang’s stuff on youtube i definitely recommend you do so, he is so lovely and such a good interviewer.

also thankyou so much to @harringtonstudios for reading it for me and @fandom-central27 deserves some credit for helping me brainstorm and make this fic sooo much longer than it was going to be in the first place

wc: 4.6k

“Hello! Welcome to the Zach Sang show! Today I have with me the oh so lovely y/n l/n. Thank you for coming.” Zach introduced you, officially starting the radio broadcast.

You smiled and leaned back on the couch. “Thank you for having me. You’ve got such a comfy studio, man. It’s so great. A bit chilly though, wish I brought a blanket.” You laughed, shivering a little. The place was so comfy, bean bags everywhere. They had you and your mic set up on a really nice gray couch.

“Yeah, the ac’s been going crazy. We’ll get you a blanket though.” Zach motioned to someone outside of the studio.

"No it’s alright.” As soon as the words left your mouth, an assistant entered with a fluffy white blanket. “You know what, I can’t really say no to that.” You laughed.

“Alright, now that we’re all wrapped up and cozy. Hey, how are you?” Zach smiled warmly, his bubbly personality shining through instantly.

“I’m really really good, thank you for asking. I’ve been in a really good place recently. How about you?”

Zach sighed and rolled his eyes. “You know, going through some stuff. But it’s all good. If things aren’t meant to be, they aren’t meant to be.”

“Oh no.” You frowned. “You got some relationship trouble, huh? Yeah, my philosophy is the same, to be honest. Can’t force something that isn’t in the cards for you.”

“I agree one hundred percent. But you gotta have some good relationship advice for me. I mean, your relationship seems to be flourishing.” Zach smiled. You felt the blood rushing to your cheeks. Everyone knew it was going to come to this. You wouldn’t even be surprised if the whole interview was going to be about this.

“Maybe.” You smiled, hands coming up to hide your blushing face.

“Oh come on now, you’re definitely not this shy on your socials.” Zach teased.

“Yeah, but that’s different, man. That’s not like, face to face. Do we really gotta talk about this?” Your nervous laughter made your comment light, letting the radio show host know you were kidding.

“You know we have to. You and Machine Gun Kelly. Who knew? Like, the biggest shock of the year so far.” Zach laughed. “You and him are so different. You’re like America’s pop sensation sweetheart right now. And he’s a rockstar!”

“I know! I thought no way would he even give me the time of the day!” You giggled.

“But I read that you were a big fan before even meeting him. Is that true?”

“Oh definitely! Most people look at me and my career and they immediately label me a pop fan, but it’s not true. I mean, I obviously love pop, but I can like other things too. I’ve been part of the EST family for a while now.” You clarified.

“And EST, that’s Kelly’s fan base, is that correct?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Now, how the hell did y’all meet? It was so sudden for the rest of us. How could your paths have crossed?” Zach laughed.

“It’s kind of a long story...” You trailed off.

“And I am so very willing to listen.” Zach smiled. It wasn’t even like he was interviewing you, it was like he was your best friend and he wanted all the details.

“Well, a while ago, I was the musical guest on SNL.” You explained.

Zach’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I remember that, you were great. That was almost a year ago! Has this been going on for that long?”

“Kind of.” You shrugged, giggling. Zach rolled his eyes and continued.

“Anyways, you did uhh two songs at SNL, right? You did ‘Hold Me’ and what was the other one?”

“I did ‘Hold me’ and I did ‘PDA’. It was so much fun. I even got to be in one of the sketches, but like only in the background. Honestly a dream come true.” You gleamed. Having been a fan of SNL since your childhood, the statement was definitely true. But you might have been trying to steer the subject away a little and Zach caught on.

“Yes, and I don’t doubt that. But I wanna hear more about the love story.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” You laughed. “So, the week before the live show, as a guest star, you have to go to the writers. You only really go if you’re in the sketches, and I wasn’t really, but I begged them to go. I wanted to see the whole process. And I knew of Pete Davidson working there obviously.”

“And Pete is friends with Kelly, right?” Zach asks, clarifying the storyline in his head and for the listeners.

“Yeah, they’re insanely close. So I go into Pete’s office, right? And I know he’s friends with him obviously. So I try to casually mention that I’m a fan, not only of Colson, but also of Pete himself.” You laugh and Zach knows where it's going.

“Did the casual approach work out for you?” He laughs.

“I’m not quite sure.” You giggle. “I was super nervous and sweaty. I’m pretty sure I stuttered throughout the whole thing. But Pete is the coolest person ever and such a good friend that he was just excited I was a fan of Colson’s. So we started planning. He says he can try to put me in the back of a sketch wearing some merch for the new album.”

“And Hotel Diablo had just come out back then, right?”

“Yes, and I was super into it, but I didn’t have any merch. So Pete said he would hook me up.”

“Did you expect to be able to meet Kelly after this whole plan?”

“I honestly expected to leave with some new merch and that’s it.” You laughed. “But to my surprise, Colson came on the Saturday of. Pete had told him about me being a fan and he wanted to surprise me.”

“How surprised were you, on a scale of one to ten?”

“Like, one billion.” You gushed. “I don’t remember much of the encounter, but I remember him hugging me and I was definitely crying.”

“Oh yeah, I saw the video. Full on blubbering.” Zach laughed.

You gasped. “There’s a video? You have to send it to me. Anyways, his daughter was there too and she asked for a picture. I said okay, but I’m sure I looked so bad in it. Like, mascara all down my red cheeks. So I go home and Colson follows me back on Instagram the next day.”

“Did you slide into the dm’s?” Zach smirked.

“You know I did. I had to! But I was fully expecting to be ignored.”

“As one does.”

“Exactly. But he replied and we started chatting. It didn’t really feel real. Like texting him and stuff, I was chill. Because it felt so fake. At that point, I used to live in New York, so it was only really texting. We face-timed a few times, which also felt surreal. Then he came to New York to surprise me and I freaked. Seeing him in the flesh again brought back the same excitement.”

“At this point, was it official?”

“Not really, like we kept telling everyone we were just friends. And it hadn’t gotten to the press yet, and we wanted to keep it like that, so only close friends knew. But I was smitten. We both knew it was going somewhere, but we were being gentle with it.”

“Yeah, the concept of new relationships is so fragile. Sometimes you both want to dive in but you don’t know if you should.” Zach rationed, voicing his thoughts.

“That’s what it felt like, to be honest. But after that first stage, it just became so incredibly easy for us.”

“Not surprisingly, because you are known to be a complete romantic. I mean, all your songs and your whole aesthetic. Your album is literally called ‘Love Love’.” Zach chuckled. “Tell me about that, the process of naming the album and writing the songs and all that. How did you know it was going to focus directly on love?”

You let out a breath and tried to organize your thoughts to form proper words. “I’ve always been so in love with love, so I knew it just had to be centered around that. Like not just romantic love, even platonic love. Some of the songs, well most of the songs on the album, are about platonic love. I had never had a serious relationship until Colson really, so my understanding of romantic love was very minimal.”

“Really? I would have never guessed. The way you write about love seems like it comes from vast experience.”

“Yeah, it was experience in platonic love. In all of my friendships, I always put my all into it, which isn’t always right. But it’s just the way I am. So when a friendship ends, it truly feels like a heart break.”

“So your song ‘No Longer’ isn’t about a relationship?”

“No, it’s about a friend I had. A best friend, actually. We were so close, people actually thought we were dating. But something happened between us and it was so painful. I have so many songs written about that, but some are so specific that the person and what they did would no longer be secret. It wouldn’t be right, you know?”

“I completely understand, sometimes things are just for yourself.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“The song that most resonated with fans was ‘I’m (Not) Crying For You’. Did you know it was going to be this well loved?”

“Yeah, they went crazy over that one. I didn’t think it would be this popular at all. Since ‘PDA’ and ‘Hold Me’ were like the singles with the music videos, I thought those would be the hits if there were any. But yeah, people really loved ‘I’m (Not) Crying For You’.”

“Can you explain the song and what it means to you?”

“I would love to. As a teenager, whenever I would lose a friend, I would always turn to break up songs. I always felt like the lyrics depicting the end of a relationship worked with friendships as well, but it was annoying to me.”

“Why annoying?”

“Because they aren’t about friendships. They’re about relationships. And I did relate, but not to every line. Cause some lyrics would mention like marriage and sex and those things aren’t related to friendships. I didn’t like the fact that I had to pick and choose the lyrics that spoke to me.”

“So this song is for everyone. I love that.”

“Yeah, I tried to keep it as vague as possible so that anyone going through the end of something could relate. And with the end of anything, you always want to seem like you’re doing fine to the other person. Like, make them think that them leaving hasn’t affected you. So you know, I don’t want them to see me cry. But if they do, they should know that the tears aren’t for them, when in reality they are.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. It’s a great hype song, though. Like it has sad lyrics, but the beat and everything really makes it feel like it’s meant to get over someone.”

“Yeah, it is! I love hype songs where it’s like ‘Fuck you, I don’t need you anymore!’ I drew a lot of inspiration from songs like that.”

“What’s your hype song? Everyone has that one song after someone screws them over.”

“Mine is actually ‘The Break Up’ by Kells. I have every lyric to that song seared into my brain.” You laughed.

“Really?” Zach asked, raising his eyebrows and letting out a laugh.

“Yeah, I play it when I’m getting my makeup done before performances. Colson thought it was hilarious.”

“I think it’s adorable. Literally relationship goals.” Zach exclaimed. “Alright, another one of your songs that I love is ‘Tattoo’. That one just speaks to me.” Zach smiled, looking so incredibly genuine.

“Really?” You gleamed. “That’s one of my favorites. I just love tattoos, the idea of having something on your body forever is just so romantic to me. Not even matching tattoos or anything. Just the ink itself.”

“Me too! But you don’t have any, right?”

“I just got my first one!” You smiled. You got your first tattoo with Colson about a week prior. “Well, I actually got 2. Very small, though. Not really noticeable. I love those small one needle tattoos, I find them to be so pretty.”

“When did you get them done?” Zach asked. “Because I remember you once said in an interview that you had none.”

“Yeah, I got them a week ago with Colson.” You rolled your eyes as you could almost see the headlines. “Now everyone’s gonna be like ‘Machine Gun Kelly ruined me’ or something.”

“Obviously not, but yeah I know what you mean. Headlines and tabloids are just awful. But he has to have influenced you somehow, right. Two incredibly different personalities coming together. Are your personalities super different or is it just superficial?”

“Yes and no. Outwardly, we both have very different personalities. But when it comes down to it, I feel like we aren’t the same but we work well together. He makes me laugh and he helps me heal. Overall, he just makes me a better person. And he’s so impulsive at times and I feel like I need that.”

“How-how is he impulsive in ways that you need? How can impulsivity help a relationship?” Zach asked.

You hummed, looking at your hands. “I second guess a lot and then I regret it. Last week we were talking at like 3 in the morning about my song ‘Tattoo’, actually.” You motioned your hands to Zach because you were previously discussing the same thing. “He asked me why I didn’t have any if I loved them so much, and I didn’t have an answer. So he called over his artist the next day, and I definitely don’t regret what I got so far.”

Zach looked over at you, as if he was trying to find them and you laughed. “No, you can’t see them. I mean, I can show you?”

“Yes, please do.”

“I got one on my ribs, like on the side. I’ll show you a picture of that. And I got one on my head.” You explained as you took out your phone and looked through your camera roll.

“Woah, you went hard for your first tattoos!” Zach exclaimed. “Isn’t the pain worse the closer you are to the bone?”

“Yeah, yeah it is. It’s what I’ve read anyways. But they were quick, because like I said, they're very small. No shading or anything.” You found the picture and turned your phone to Zach. “I got ‘Love Love’ on my ribs, in the same font as the album cover, but super small. And the other one is under my hair. I had to shave a square off.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t show unless I pull my hair up at a specific place.” You turned and lifted your hair. “It’s ‘Hotel Diablo’ surrounded by a little border in Colson’s handwriting. He got the same one back when the album came out, in the same place too.”

“So they’re matching?”

“Yeah, he got ‘Love Love’, too. A lot of people online always say to never get matching tattoos, but I don’t really care. Even if it doesn’t work out, which I hope isn’t the case, ‘Hotel Diablo’ is one of my favorite albums and has helped me grow as a person. I just hope he doesn’t regret the one he got for me.” You laughed.

“Does he like your album? He doesn’t seem to be much of a pop guy.”

"He used to tease me when we first started talking about how he would never listen to it and all that. But he was actually like analyzing the songs.”

“No way! That is cute, relationship goals again! Man, you guys are unbelievable.”

“Yeah, he surprised me. But as a fellow artist and songwriter, he knew that he could probably find out a lot about me just through my songs.”

“And did he? Do you see him do something for you and you think ‘he did that because of this song or that song’?”

“Sometimes.” You ponder. “But he and I are just on the same wavelength, I feel. He takes one look at me and he knows what to do. It’s insane.” You chuckled.

“On the topic of songs, have you written any about him? Has he written anything about you?”

“Oh, I’ve definitely written about him. I’ve got like dozens. Shit, he doesn’t know that.” You realized. “Fuck, I hope he’s not listening. Anyways, I don’t think he’s written anything about me. When he’s high as fuck though, he freestyles about everything. He’s written a song about asking me to do some... things that I will not say on camera. He’s just always spittin’ fire. The talent that that man possesses is mind blowing.”

“Watching him come up with it must be incredible.”

You nodded your head vigorously. “One hundred percent. He’s got a home studio, and some days we just never leave that place. I don’t even need to be writing or recording anything, I just sit and watch him. I’ve been around many a songwriter in my time on this earth, but I’ve never seen one work like this man does.”

“Let me just say, you are absolutely glowing when you talk about him and your album.” Zach smiled.

“Thank you! Like I said, I’m in a really good place right now. This album really made me feel like I took a lot off my shoulders. Like I put all those emotions out there and they’re no longer weighing on me. And Colson… Well, Colson’s just Colson.” You smiled.

“Speaking of your boyfriend, I’m getting a message that he’s coming into the studio.” Zach said as he looked at his phone.

“What?” You asked, sitting up on the couch and looking towards the door. A few seconds later, your tall, lanky boyfriend walked in.

“Hey! Hope I’m not crashing or anything.” Colson smiled, jumping over the back of the couch to sit next to you.

“Well you kind of are. This is my interview. You said you’d pick me up when I was done.” You pouted.

“Don’t give me that cute ass pout. Thought I’d come a little earlier, besides you’ve been mainly talking about me.” He smirked, sending you a wink.

“That is very true.” Zach said. “She can’t stop, but I am not complaining.”

“Ugh, don’t encourage him.” You groaned playfully. “I’m never gonna hear the end of this.”

“Nope.” Colson agreed, excited to tease you about it later. “I’m sorry, Zach, for just crashing like this.”

“No, it’s alright! Make yourself at home. I’m sure everyone who’s tuned in is incredibly surprised. How are you, Machine Gun Kelly?”

“Kells is fine. I know the whole thing can be a mouthful.” Colson chuckled. “I’m doing great. Got a really inflated ego after hearing you guys praising me all morning.”

“We have been, haven’t we? But I would say that’s mostly y/n’s fault, to be honest.” Zach pointed at you, throwing you under the bus.

“Hey, don’t put it all on me! You asked the questions!” You exclaimed, laughing along. You turned to Colson and pulled him in closer. “Don’t listen to him, he just wants to get on your good side.”

Colson laughed and draped his arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. You reached out and placed the blanket over his legs as you cuddled into him. “It’s alright, if you were interviewing me, I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Now you guys are just making me jealous.” Zach scoffed. “So Kells, please tell us your side of the story of how you two met.”

“Alright, only two people know about this story. So this is incredibly valuable information.” Colson started out. You expected to be one of the two people, so you were shocked when he didn’t say your name. “Pete and my daughter.”

“What?” You exclaimed. “I’m in the story, how do I not know?”

“It’s before the SNL show, like when Pete told me about you. I never told you how that went down.”

“Oh my God, I’m all ears. Go ahead.” You said, turning to face Colson as he told the story.

“Alright, so I was in New York with my daughter that weekend. I had some business and I was going back home on Sunday, so I brought her along. We were already going to the SNL show before Pete told me about y/n. I knew she was performing, though.”

“You did?” You asked, eyes wide. He kept up with you before meeting you? “Sorry, sorry, continue.”

“Yeah, I did. Casie is a big fan of y/n and her music, so she was really excited about going. I had heard y/n’s songs before, you know on the radio and whenever I would drive with my daughter and she would put on her own music. So I knew the name, but I had never seen a picture of her. When Pete told me he wanted me to come and meet her, I looked her up.”

“Oh no.” You gasped, knowing that your general aesthetic would have probably deterred him from meeting you.

Colson looked back at you when he said his next sentence. “I was like ‘How can this adorable Disney princess looking chick be into my music?’ I couldn’t believe it.”

“Oh my God.” You groaned, bringing your hand up to cover your blushing face.

“No, I’m serious. But I couldn’t stop looking at pictures of her. I wanted to follow her, but I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise. My daughter was teasing me, telling me that I had to get her number during the show. I didn’t of course, like the idiot that I am. But I did follow her on Instagram the next day. Pete was smug the whole time, though.”

“Of course he would be.” You rolled your eyes and snorted. “But I mean, we have to thank him for all of this. Without him, we probably wouldn’t have met.”

“No, we would have. I was still going to go to the show. We would have seen each other and Casie would have still asked for a picture.” Colson said.

“True, but you and I both know we wouldn’t have talked beyond that. I would’ve been too nervous to say anything.” You replied.

“Oh yeah, definitely. I would have been too taken aback by your beauty to say anything either.” Colson nodded.

“Oh shut up!” You laughed, hitting his chest.

“And how did your daughter react to the blooming relationship?” Zach asked Colson.

“She’s usually like, indifferent about my relationships. But this time, she wanted all the updates. When I told her I would be flying back to New York a few weeks later to surprise y/n, she begged me to come with. But I had to leave her, you know?”

“Yeah, of course. Quality time with your S/O is rare when you have a kid.” Zach replied.

“Tell me about it! And then this crazy busy job, too. You’ve got no free time. I finally had a free week and I knew I had to go see this one or it wouldn’t have gone anywhere.” Colson said, pulling you closer when mentioning you.

“And did you, Colson, think you two were gonna end up together?” Zach asked.

“I was hoping so!” Colson laughed. “I was gonna hit her up, but she beat me to it. I was gonna try to get with her, but I didn’t think she would like me. But I’m so glad she did. Don’t know how I lived without her.” Colson looked into your eyes as he spoke, smiling like the love sick doofus that he is.

“Aw, now how long have you been together for? The world’s only known for about a month now, right?” Zach asked.

“Yeah, we posted on Instagram on the 29th of last month. So a little less than a month.” You said, looking at Colson for confirmation.

“Yeah, we waited for a long time. But we’ve been together going on 9 months now.” Colson said and you nodded.

“Woah, that’s crazy! How did you manage to keep it a secret for so long?” Zach wondered, as the length of the relationship was surprising.

“It was hard, I can tell you that.” You chuckled. “ Colson would always post about his ‘secret girlfriend’ and all that. Like, pictures of us holding hands and stuff. It was easy for him, he could just crop my face out. But for me, it was much harder.” You sighed.

“Oh my God, it would have been so hard with all his tattoos!” Zach exclaimed when he understood your struggle.

“Yeah, I got so many tattoos. Anyone could just look it up and find out. But she would post sometimes like, really strategic pictures. I was amazed at how she could do it. But it made it easier that people knew we were in a relationship to keep it a secret. Like, they knew I had a girl, but they didn’t know who it was.”

“Yeah, exactly. Like I just had to keep his name a secret, not the fact that I had a boyfriend. It wouldn’t have been a secret for too long if it was like that ‘cause I never shut up about him.” You laughed.

“Yes, I remember those cryptic tweets all the time. All the tabloids were about y/n l/n’s secret boyfriend.” Zach laughed.

“It was so funny watching everyone scramble trying to find out who he was. But I’m so glad we’re done with that now.” You sighed, placing your hand on Colson’s chest.

“So am I, we wouldn’t have had this interview if you guys didn’t go public. That was truly a fairytale kind of love story.” Zach sighed. “I loved talking to you guys so much.”

“Aw, thank you Zach. I can’t believe our time together has come to an end. I hope I didn’t bore you, we barely talked about the album.” You laughed. “This interview was more about Machine Gun Kelly than it was about me.”

“No, definitely not. I learned so much about you guys today. And about love as a whole.” Zach laughed. “Now I know what a loving and healthy relationship looks like. I hope we can have you here another time, y/n. And maybe have Kells come for an interview of his own?”

“Definitely, man. We can sort that out, I’ll tell my manager.” Colson nodded at Zach.

“I would love crashing that interview.” You joked, causing everyone to laugh. “But in all seriousness, you are so good at interviewing people, Zach. Just felt like a conversation with a lifelong friend.”

“Oh yeah, for sure.” Colson agreed. “Some interviewers feel too pushy and just overall fake. Not you, though.”

“Aww, you’re too nice. You guys were just really easy to talk to. Thank you for coming, y/n. And thank you for joining us, Kells.”

“Thank you for having us, it’s been so fun.” You answered.

“It definitely was, but unfortunately, we only have so much time. Thank you to our wonderful audience for tuning in. This has been an interview with y/n l/n and Machine Gun Kelly, and here’s a word from our sponsor.”

@bakerkells

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly fluff #colson baker x reader #colson baker #colson baker fanfic #colson baker fluff #mgk #mgk fanfic #mgk fluff #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly one shot #machine gun kelly oneshot #machine gun kelly writing

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valeriethepussycats · 3 years

Text

Inside Out

Chapter 3

Pairing- Loki x Reader

Warning- cursing and characte dying.

Your thoughts and other characters are in italics. Flashbacks are in bold.

Jane enters Darcy's car parked outside the restaurant. “And I hate you.”

“What?! I thought he was cute.” Darcy proclaimed.

“Just shut up and drive.” Jane replied.

Darcy pulls out and drive off, as they are driving through London suddenly Jane's is shocked to see a guy sat in the back seat. “Who's he?”

“He's my intern.” Darcy stated.

“You have an intern?” Jane questioned.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Hello, Dr. Foster. It's uh...it's a great honor to be working with you.” Ian Boothby stated.

“Right. I have to call Erik.” Jane remarked

Ian checks the navigator then looks at Darcy. “Oh, uh...take a right.”

Darcy quickly makes a sharp turn.

“Left!.” she then turns quickly left. “I have totally mastered driving in London.”

Jane calls Erik and leaves a message. “Hi, Erik, it's me again. Where are you? I came here because you said you were onto something and then vanished.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

A news report is then shown where Selvig is naked and running around Stonehenge while the police try to catch him.

“I'm here at Stonehenge, for what has been an interesting unfolding of events today. The police reported the scene shortly after 11 a.m. this morning, after a seemingly harmless rambler approached the area then started to strip naked and effectively terrorize tourists there with scientific equipment while shouting that he was trying to save them. The man later identified as noted Astrophysicist Dr. Erik Selvig has been called in for questioning by police.”

Darcy pulls up outside an old abandoned factory and they all get out of the car. “Come on, this is exciting! Look, the intern is excited.”

“Ian.” He Corrected.

“Do you want the phase meter?” Darcy asked Jane.

“No.” Jane answered.

Darcy looks over at Ian “Bring the phase meter.” she throws the car keys at Ian and starts walking off. “The toaster looking thing.”

“I know what the phase meter is.” Ian said under his breath.

As Jane walks towards the factory Darcy calls her on her cell phone which starts playing an annoying music tone. “How do I change the ring tone on this thing?”

“An Astrophysicist with three degrees should be able to change her own ring tone.” Darcy exposed.

Jane turns to look at Darcy. “Why are you calling me?”

Darcy Lewis: “I didn't want to shout.” Darcy told Jane. Then looks at Ian, who's following behind her. “Intern, the entrance is this way.”

“Ian. My name's Ian.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Loki is walking around his cell when his reality starts to change. A memory starts to

form, the now dungeon cell was replaced by warm morning sun. Loki sees Y/n sleeping happily in her bed. then she wake up to the sound of House of Pain - "Jump Around" with a big smile on her face she gets out of bed and rushes to the bathroom and brushes her teeth dancing and mumbling the lyrics to the song when she finish in the bathroom she heads downstairs to see that Gambit is in the kitchen making her favorite breakfast.

“So what are we doing today?” Y/n askedas she sit at the table.

“Today we’re gonna go to Mardi Gras.” Gambit said flipping a waffle.

“I thought I was not enough to go to Mardi Gras?” Y/n said picking up ‘her’ Game Boy.

“Who said...I was about your age maybe younger.” Gambit disclosed.

Gambit looks over at Y/n sees she playing with a game. “Where’d you get that?”

“I stole it from one of the boys from school.” Y/n answered. “He was bullying one of my friends and I didn’t use all my powers.

Gambit gives her disapproval look.

“It’s was the only way to find out what he really loves.” Y/n explained. “That’s what we do steal from the mean and rich.”

Gambit gives her a smile that reaches the eyes he then grabs a plate and place Y/n’s waffles on it and hand it to her. “Eat a up Petit we have a big day today.”

Y/n starts to scarf down her food.

Loki looks at their dynamic and can see this Gambit person is a very important person to Y/n, and that she was a thief. She looks happy and content with her life.

Could I make her that happy?

Would she love living on Asgard?

Loki shakes those thoughts out his head, Odin has already made him question if is he worthy of Y/n’s love he doesn’t need the those thought. The memory beings to fade out and Loki reappears on the streets of New Orleans and see Gambit and Y/n. They’re walking the streets of the infinite Paris in laughter of people of all shapes and sizes.

“Mardi Gras. You smell that Petit.” Gambit said with a broad smile.

Y/n laughs as she looks up at Gambit she can tell that he’s very passionate about his city. “Can you tell me more about Mardi Gras.”

“What do you wanna know, Petit?” Gambit wondered.

“Anything.” Y/n with a smiles.

“Well the King Cake is only eaten during Mardi Gras.” Gambit said as he picked Y/n up and put her on his neck so she can see everything.

“What’s the King Cake?” Y/n said looking down at Gambit with her brows together pulling together in a frown.

“It made with brioche dough Braided and laced with cinnamon, the dough is then glazed with purple, green and gold sugar or covered in icing in those same Mardi Gras colors.”

While Gambit is talking all of a sudden Y/n starts hearing voices.

“I haven’t hear from him in a weeks no one at shield can contract him.”

“How can I tell her that someone she knows since she was five could be dead.”

“What....” Y/n said sad grimace.

Then all sudden a loud bang of a gun goes off and her and Gambit falls to the ground. She crawls from underneath Gambit’s head,and see his bleeding.

“Gambit tell me what to do.” Y/n urged.

“Y/n are you ok?” Gambit questioned.

“I’m fine, tell me what do I do.” Y/n stressed.

“There’s nothing you can do.” Gambit answered.

Loki rushes to young Y/n side and tried to to help but his hands go straight though her.

“No...no...tell me what to do...please.” Y/n wept. “You’re all I have....your my family.”

“Your gonna be fine your father with find you.”

“My father is dying and I need to save him.” Y/n proclaimed.

“I love you, Y/n.” Gambit drawled.

“No don’t say that please don’t say that Gambit.” Y/n sobbed.

Gambit’s chest laid still, no flickers of life or his usual burning red eyes. Y/n’s heart stops. When she realized that she can’t hear a single thought. She starts to get a pain in her stomach, like when you get butterflies but make it painful.

“I can not.....I can’t do nothing.......I do not wish to see this.” Loki said with moist eyes. He’s having a hard time looking at what’s happening in front of him. But he knows he needs to see this to understand her more.

Y/n’ s chin trembling, eyebrows elevated, snot running down her upper lip. She spoke in a cracking voice. “Gambit...Gambit..”

The street begins to shake Loki looks around and all the cars in the area gets crushed under a pressure like gravity. All the windows of the houses shatter, all the street lights pop making it dark, but little did Y/n know it was a dream.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Back on Asgard, Thor,Y/n, and Gambit are walking the hallways for Thor’s home. He’s telling them all the stories of his childhood and all the things they accomplish by keep Nine Realms safe. He’s telling them about all their custom and what they do and what they believe in. They end up back at the celebration because of Y/n’s amazing persuasion skills. Thor and Y/n are sitting at a table while Gambit is sitting with a group of women soaking up all the attention.

“What’s why you can’t stay in one place to long.” Y/n started. “The warriors on Asgard protest Nine Realms.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s amazing. The way you protect people...”

“I do love being a warrior but I can no longer do that.”

“Because you’re next in line for the Throne.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to make Jane your queen?”

Thor looks at Y/n shocked trying to find the words to say. “I forgot how blunt you are.” Thor said with a smile.

Y/n shrugs shoulder. “I know when you become king it’s gonna become harder to see Jane.” Y/n specified. “And after New York she called me wanted to know if you’re coming back.”

Thor looks over at Y/n withm unfocused gaze.

“I didn’t give her answers because I didn’t know.” Y/n told Thor. “I can tell you miss

her a lot.....And she misses you.”

Y/n looks at Thor and can tell he’s far away and he’s becoming even more so. “Go.”

Thor looks over at Y/n knowing she can feel and understand what’s he’s going through. “I still have more to show you.” Thor said in his best convincing voice. He hasn’t seen his best friend in a long time his mind shouldn’t be on Jane it’s should be on how his friend is.

“Go. I’ll be here.” Y/n said with a encouraging smile.

“Thank you.” Thor said returning her smile. “I will return.”

“I know, now go.” Y/n said with a quiet and empathetic voice.

With one last look, Thor walks away.

After being free from his distractions Gambit walks over to Y/n. “Where did Thor go?”

“He went to go see a friend?” Y/n said then looking over at Gambit with a smirk. “Now let’s go get some drinks.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

As they enter the old factory they hear a noise. “I am not getting stabbed in the name of science.”

She holds up her hands and shouts. “It's okay, we're Americans!”

“Is that supposed to make them like us?”Jane replied.

Suddenly the hear some kids voices. “Make it go away..”

“Ssh!”

Three kids come out of their hiding place.

“Oh, they're kids.” Jane said with a sigh of relief.

“Are you the police?” Maddie asked.

“No, we're scientists. Well, I am.” Jane specified.

“Thanks.” Darcy said dryly.

“We just found it.” Said one boy.

“Can you show us?” Jane asked.

The three kids lead Jane, Darcy and Ian to a truck, one of the boys touches the truck and pushes it up with two fingers, they watch in amazement as the truck floats in mid-air.

“That doesn't seem rigged.” Darcy disclosed.

The kids then take them to a stairwell in the factory, one of them drops a bottle down and they watch as the bottle disappears into thin air.

“Where did it go?”

The girl points her finger up, they look up to see the bottle reappear above them and continuously fall and disappear in the same spots in the air.

“That's...that's incredible.”

Jane picks up an empty can and drops it down and it does the same thing, it disappears into thin air, but when they look up to watch it reappear nothing happens.

“What happened?” Darcy asked Maddie.

“Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don't.” She answered.

“I want to throw something. Jane, give me your shoe.” Darcy proclaimed.

Jane ignores Darcy and picks up her gadget to look at the readings. “I haven't seen readings like this since...”

“New Mexico? Only if Y/n was here she would be able to tell us.” Darcy commented. (But she just miss hanging out with Y/n.)

Jane give Darcy a meaningful look before rushing off. ““Don't touch anything!”

Darcy Looks over at Ian. “Give me your shoe.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Jane walks away from the others and watches them on the stairwell dropping objects down and watching them disappear and reappear, she sees looks at her gadget and sees the anomaly is nearby and starts walking off; back on the stairwell, Ian drops the car keys down and they watch it disappear but when they look up it doesn't reappear.

“Where those the car keys?”

Jane follows the readings on her gadget which takes her to another part of the factory, as the readings get stronger a gust of wind pushes her forward and she finds herself teleported in another realm.

“Darcy!” Jane shouted.

She looks around and finds the column holding the Aether, she reaches her hand out and suddenly the Aether enters her body and she passes out; at the same time we see Malekith being awakened in his ship, knowing that the Aether has been found.

“The Aether awakens us. The Convergence returns.” Malekith divulged.

#loki x black!reader #loki x black reader #loki x reader #loki x y/n #thor x reader #thor x jane

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btssmutficslovingfan01 · 3 years

Text

Friendly Encounters- Chapter Three

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A friend challenges you to go out of your comfort zone and talk to one of the cute boys at the café. However, after attempting to flirt with one of them, they reveal that they are in a relationship with each other. It’s fine, though, because you’re all friends now!

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Romance

𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: Fluff

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Mentions of sex, language, mature themes, mostly safe but not suitable for young audiences below the age of 16, and binge eating if you are easily triggered by that.

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 5.8k+

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jimin x Yoongi x Reader

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“My boyfriend actually called me his wife today.” “Oh yeah, well mine already proposed to me, that’s right, five years since we've started dating!”

“Oh, Lyric, you’re lucky. My boyfriend only ever invited me to his family’s tree trimming party and we got blessings from all of his great-aunts, uncles, and other relatives. His parents even call me their future daughter.” You roll your eyes at how unrelenting these girls are. They won’t even stop talking about boys for one second and you’ve been at this sleepover for five hours. It’s supposed to be the last sleepover of the decade as seniors, for everyone since you and this tiny group started planning in the seventh grade. Just because you’re all girls doesn’t mean boys are the only thing you have to talk about! It’s not an obligation. This isn’t a disney movie where the prince is going to marry the princess at the end, it’s real life and everyone is too fucking clingy to realize it.

“Can we not talk about boys tonight?” You finally ask out loud, earning a gasp from everyone in the vicinity, including Bae, who happens to be a lesbian. Even she was enjoying the boy talk.

“Why? That’s literally what sleepovers are about.” Your other friend, Joy points out. You sigh in frustration, falling back on the carpeted floor while hugging your soft ladybug plushie.

“Looks like someone’s having a bit of drama, we heard from Jessica. Now, tell mama River what’s really going on.” You take in a deep breath before slowly explaining your situation with the boys.

“And these boys are a gay couple?” Bae asks in a questioning tone.

“They are! But...after a certain encounter, I’m not really sure what to think. They’re older, and in love with each other, but I feel like I’m just intruding at times, you know?” Another girl that goes by the name of “Temoshika-san,” which is her japanese name nods in agreement, holding out a tray of foods for you to snack on.

“Eat. I binge whenever I’m stressed.” She says after you take a tiny bag of doritos.

“Hon..I’m gonna say something but I don’t think you’re going to like it.” Your most sensible friend, Toriel (oh yes I named her after an undertale character) says after a long moment of silence.

“Shoot. I’ve already made plans with them for next week to see a concert so there’s nothing that can surprise me now.” You bite your lips. It’s been an entire month since that day when Yoongi demanded you to lick ice cream off his boyfriend’s cheek and things escalated from there.

You didn’t have sex, but it was a close call. Your heart almost ran away from you. Yet, they don’t bring it up, so it’s safe to assume that they felt nothing from that encounter.

Maybe Jimin didn’t anyways. Or maybe he was feeling just as horny as you! Who knows? No guy has ever looked at you that way before, so you wouldn’t even know.

“I think that both of these boys might be catching feelings for you. But they’ve probably never had feelings for a girl before, so they don’t know how to go about it.” Her theory makes sense. Suddenly, all of the pieces click in your mind.

“You’re a genius, Toriel!” You give her a hug before whipping out your phone to text Jimin. Right on cue, you get a text! But you’re surprised to see that it's not from Jimin.

“Damn, that's some cold shit right there. I didn’t know what you did to piss him off so much.” Bae chuckles at your misery as you put your phone away.

“Wanna spill the details?” A girl by the name of Cleo asks. You roll your eyes.

“It was just Yoongi. He said he and Jimin wanted to talk to me. As if things haven’t been awkward enough.” You feel like you’re walking on eggshells with the two, as you’ve stopped hugging Jimin for longer than 10 seconds.

And you’ve stopped your musical obsessions with Yoongi as well, keeping the fangirling to a bare minimum. You just want everything to go back to normal, so you can continue onto your adult life without holding on so much to the past. And they aren’t the only things bothering you, but Jungkook has been desperately trying to fix your relationship.

Jasmine won’t so much as breathe in your direction, as she doesn’t need you anymore. She has everything. The popular clique, a hot boyfriend, and perfect grades. She isn’t bothering you at all, but you are tempted to scream in her face about keeping her boy toy in control. He keeps wandering out of her lane and onto yours. Which you think you can use to your advantage.

It’s not like you’re going to sleep with him or anything, you just think it’s the perfect opportunity to take back what was rightfully yours. And in this case, Jungkook is the perfect trophy. You don’t like objectifying people, but at this point you don’t even care if he used your name to impress a couple of underclassmen, you feel honored, actually, but you don’t actually care about him. He kissed you too, while he was dating her. That’s a sign that things aren’t looking too good for them.

Who are you kidding?! You should let them go. As if you have the balls to actually sneak around Jasmine’s back and snatch her boyfriend from her.

“Girl, just talk to them. I advise you to tell them as soon as possible what type of feelings you may or may not have for them. It’s gonna be okay.” Toriel pats your back as you recover from the growing anxiousness in your gut. Something tells you, everything is not going to be okay.

“Moving onto our next sleepover activity….horror stories!”

༻• The Next Day, At Your House •༺

You sneak into your home early in the morning, around 7 or 8, to be exact, hoping that Jimin and Yoongi were away at work. Your mom is already gone, as she texted you that she would be going on a business trip this particular week. The slumber party kept you awake all night, and the girls had really scary stories to share so you weren’t exactly calm...even now you are on edge as Jimin frightens you from behind.

“Hi.” You jump back, startled because of how quiet and swiftly he came up from behind you.

“H-hey. I thought I was home alone.” He gives you a sweet smile, the same comforting grin you saw that day in the cafe after you almost embarrassed yourself while asking for his number. Those were the good times, when you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. A friendship with anyone of the opposite sex is complicated, after all. You convinced yourself of this since Yoongi and Jimin are 100% gay and show no signs of any lust or extra thirst after you but you still had awkward tension. Hell, even now after Jimin walked up from behind you like that, you still have a strange feeling in your gut.

“You thought wrong! Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about

how you almost peed your pants after I gave you a scare.” The mood is mellow, and you’re both comfortable around each other. Maybe Yoongi was the problem. But you don’t want to upset Jimin, as he’s your best friend at the moment and he’s been for you a lot more than anyone has been in the last decade.

“So, what’d I miss?” You ask, leaning in to give your best friend a hug. You inhale his strawberry-fresh scent, a little bit in awe as you’ve never gotten a waft of a nice-smelling boy. Jimin is an angel, a perfect exception. You hope you can find a man who’s as caring and attentive as he is, in the future.

“Yoongi and I have been thinking a lot about you recently, mainly how you opened up to the two of us about your life and leaned on us so easily, really it was crazy how you trusted us so easily when you barely knew either one of us,” You laugh sheepishly, mentally scolding yourself for being so childish in the first place. “But it was so admirable. And we thought, we could do the same for you. So you can learn more about the kind of people we are. We don’t like looking back on the past, but there are some parts that we just can’t leave behind. Like for example, our two exes,” At first, you think little of this. ‘He must mean the people that he and Yoongi dated before they found each other.’ That was your first thought. Just like he’s reading your mind, he answers your question, “We’re open to polyamory.” Your mouth drops to an “o” shape, and then you rack your brain for the correct answers.

You got nothing. You have no clue what the fuck a polyamory is.

“What’s that?” He chuckles at your innocence just as his boyfriend comes down the stairs.

“Hey, Yoongz, wanna explain what polyamory is to our good friend here?” You look up at the older man with curious eyes. You want to know.

“Multiple people in a relationship. Basically, Jimin and I used to invite over two other guys and we used to go on dates and do other stuff but it was really chill, nothing too serious.” You gawk as the two lean into each other for a kiss and then Jimin crawls into Yoongi’s lap before turning his head to stare at you. Two pairs of eyes are just on you, and you feel so vulnerable with all the attention on you.

“Anyways, I wanted to mainly apologize for what happened that night with the ice cream. You looked like you were enjoying yourself, and I thought I was too, until I realized I was gay. I just needed a reminder, I guess. So I thank you,” You don’t know whether you should laugh or cry, Yoongi’s expression was hard to read.

“Hyung...why do you gotta do her like that?” Jimin’s words throw you off guard. “You know what, instead of beating around the bush, I’ll just tell you: I’m bi, Yoongi was pan when I met him.” He rolls his eyes at the boy.

“Wait, didn’t you say you came out to your parents?” You ask curiously.

“I did. As gay, but then I ended up having a one night stand with a woman and after that I realized I liked both.” You take in the information very well, not letting it affect you one bit. “You know what, I’ll let you two figure out your shit…” You give Jimin a panicked look before turning to Yoongi with a fake smile plastered on your face.

“I don’t care what your sexuality is,” Your statement throws him off guard as his eyes widen quickly. “I just know what I felt was real. There was a weird connection, a moment where I wanted to kiss you.” He coughs before spreading his legs on the couch and putting his hands in his lap. You’re not gonna lie, he looks hot.

“Then why didn’t you?” You let out a small giggle before realizing that he’s completely serious.

“Because you and Jimin are dating...and I don’t like cheating.” He crosses his arms, this time scooting in closer to you.

“But we were both there, and the vibes were all right.” You feel a slight pressure on your inner thigh when you realize that Yoongi is touching you. His hands are wandering up your thigh in broad daylight. You luckily have a blanket covering you, but the look of fear on your face is a dead giveaway.

“It’s because you wimped out.”

“You should’ve just done it anyways. I probably would’ve kissed you back.” He starts kneading your thigh, giving you an almost-massage, and just as you’re about to let out a moan, Jimin comes back, holding a bowl of popcorn and setting it down on the coffee table.

“Surprise movie night...er day.” He sits next to you, oblivious to what his boyfriend is doing. You glare at Yoongi when you feel his fingers pulling your leggings down and they wander into your panties. You’re damp. Completely soaked because of this stupid man that you’re attracted to and the fact that you basically just confessed to him. He smirks when he sees your eyes roll back in your head when he reaches your g-spot, thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace. You cling to him, pretending that you’re simply cuddling him as Jimin’s eyes stay trained on the screen, but you fail horribly at keeping things discreet when you moan into his ears. The movie blasts at a loud volume, so the speakers drain out your groans as Yoongi drives you to an orgasm.

“Come for me, babe. Don’t want Jiminie to see, is that right?” Yoongi knows the boy would probably just join in if he actually noticed. He still manages to upset you, as with all your might, you try not to scream from pleasure.

“Yoongi, I’m gonna come.” You bury your face in his shoulder, letting out the softest but sexiest moan he’s ever heard, as his fingers twist inside of you and you climax right then and there. He leans in and finally, you get a taste of his sweet lips.

“Let’s continue this later?” He whispers to you, winking at Jimin as you sink into his arms, panting heavily and recovering from your intense orgasm. And yes, the boy knows what his boyfriend was doing under the blanket the entire time.

After the movie, you quickly run upstairs to take a shower. You didn’t expect to get fingered on your couch. You didn’t think Yoongi would actually kiss you. And you certainly didn’t think things were going to return to normal ever again. They already had girls. How many did they date in the past? Obviously having a third partner didn’t work out for either of them so what difference would it make if you were part of the equation? You step out of the shower to find Jimin in your bedroom, playing games on his phone as he waits for you. You clench your towel, a light blush dusting your cheeks as you step into your bedroom, closing the door.

“Hey! I wanted to see what you might be wearing to the concert, have you picked out an outfit?” You walk past him, motioning him to come to your closet as your finger picks and chooses the cute dress you found at the mall.

“This one.” You can see his eyes lighting up at the thought of you wearing that dress, but then his gaze darkens when he imagines you out of it. Speaking of...there was only a thin towel wrapped around your body, even then it wasn’t enough to stop his imagination. You have nice boobs, can you blame the poor guy?!

“Nice choice. I’ll just uh...step out so you can get dressed.” Also known as code red: he has a boner. You quickly throw on some shorts and a sweatshirt, as you don’t dress modestly at home. You check yourself in the mirror, making sure it’s not too much in case the boys feel uneasy.

Today’s a slow day. You finish up your homework before making your way to the kitchen for an evening snack. It’s only 5:00, yet you’re starving. What you see next surprises you, as Yoongi is on the counter while Jimin kisses him breathlessly. How do people kiss so long without breaking for air? As you observe, Jimin breaks the kiss, smiling at you as his boyfriend turns to look at you as well.

“Come here, darling.” Your feet are jello as you stumble to the two, trying to ignore the way Yoongi’s bulge is sticking straight up as Jimin’s hands are on either side of him.

“Wh-what?” You blush, unable to help yourself as the blue haired god in front of you looks so good. “I like your hair.” You whisper quietly.

“Thanks, although I’ve had this hairstyle for a while,” He removes his arms from his boyfriend, putting his attention on you. “Now, you’ve been a dirty girl, fooling around with my boyfriend when I’m not looking, is that right?” You swear if you weren’t holding onto the counter you would’ve fainted.

“What? Cat got your tongue? You have quite a mouth on you when my fingers are buried in your pussy but you can’t say a word when my boyfriend asks you a perfectly valid question?” You’re shocked, frozen, freezing.

“Answer me, sweetie. Did you like it when he fingered you earlier?” You blush and nod, evading his gaze. “Look at me when I talk to you, Y/N.” When he says your name you look up, your eyes meeting his as you do. Five seconds barely pass when he smashes his lips against yours, in a desperate manner. Yoongi’s just watching, patiently waiting for you to break the kiss so he can continue the conversation.

“Y/N, we need to be honest with you. We’ve...taken a liking to you.” You don’t know how to process this information. But Jimin’s look of pleading is enough. They both want you.

“So please, will you consider joining our relationship?” You purse your lips. Every fibre of your body is screaming yes, but your mind is telling you to be reasonable, and think through this. You don’t need this right now in your life. You’ll hold them back, they’ll hurt you later, this is setting yourself up for failure.

Yet you want it so bad.

“Can I think about it? Please?” You don’t want to reject them right away.

“Of course. Take your time.” Jimin takes Yoongi’s hand before leading him to the couch. You hope they won’t ask you before the concert.

༻• At the Concert •༺

You couldn’t believe your eyes. The men brought you to a freaking J-hope concert. Not just anyone but the J-hope. He’s the most popular solo act on the planet. After he broke up with his boy band BTB, he went all crazy and started rapping about sex, and fame, and real life issues. Everyone loves him.

Including your two friends who dated him back before he was famous.

Yeah, they have a history together.

“You like it so far?” Jimin asks, leaning in while cracking open a can of pepsi.

“Are you kidding? You got premium seats to see the J-hope?” He gives you a cheeky grin before turning to Yoongi and conversing with him. You can’t seem to take your eyes off the two of them, even if you are at a J-hope concert. You feel lucky enough to be breathing the same air as him, but it’s thanks to the couple sitting beside you. Not to mention...they even dated him at some point.

“This last song goes out to two dear exes of mine…” You thought you imagined it, but he seemed to look up at your row, as if he was staring straight at Yoonmin.

“Last summer when you told me you weren’t feeling well, I thought it was just a little bump in the road, But now I know, It was all because of her, Ohhh my love, How I loved you way back then, But I was too blind to see, You really didn’t care at all,”

You don’t know how to react. Should you clap? Or laugh, or cry? It sounds like whoever he’s singing about cheated on him...with a girl.

“Now I don't care, it's all choices by my fate, so we're here, Look ahead, The way is shinin’, Keep Going Now,”

The song suddenly gets more upbeat and then the crowd goes crazy as he has an outfit change with a snap. Also, this man is glowing. The lights are perfectly bouncing off his slightly tanned skin, making him appear more heavenly. God, how did they live through this?

“That’s My Ego!” He sings the chorus cheerfully before finishing off and then fireworks light up the night sky, making some audience members cry. Jimin and Yoongi are both staring at you, though, as you watch with wonder. You look so innocent, and you’re so small...the two of them are already whipped for you, can’t you see that? Oh wait, you do.

“Is there something on my face?” You ask them, and they simply smile at you. As if that wasn’t heart-melting enough.

“Nothing. Let’s go backstage.” You blush as they both take either of your hands, leading you out of the crowded stadium so that you can visit J-Hope backstage. You were about to meet a celebrity, while being held by two guys that confessed their feelings to you just a few hours ago! As if things couldn’t get any better.

“J-HOOOOOPE!!!” Yoongi grins, throwing his arms around the celebrity as he walks into the room.

“Hey Suga. OH JEMIN!” Jimin and J-Hope share a handshake before hugging as well, and then he turns to you.

“Who is this beauty?” He turns to look at you, kissing your palm softly in greeting.

“Y/N.” You answer him, trying to conceal your uwus.

“Wow. You’re even more perfect than how they described you. You know, I’ve never seen them like someone more than they like you.” He whispers into your ears. You’re a little bit distracted by the fact that an IDOL is whispering in your ears right now. His breath smells so good. His sweat smells expensive, though.

“Y-you really think?” You ask.

“I know so.”

“Okay, if you’re done hitting on our friend, how about you tell us what you’ve been up to?” J-Hope holds up a finger, revealing the engagement ring to all of you.

“Who…?” J-Hope blushes before turning to his mirror.

“Remember that one producer? The girl who was older than me by 10 years or something?” Everyone nods, except you, who has no idea what’s going on.

“Turns out she was my soulmate all along. She proposed to me, and we’re getting married next month.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” You clap for him as the two men beside you look at you with love in their eyes.

“I’m so excited. She’s just a bucket of sunshine. Oh shoot, I’m almost late for the wine tasting. Bye guys.” We wave as the celebrity packs up his things for the day. “So, it looks like you guys lowered your standards for me.” “Oh, stop, he wasn’t even well-known when we met. And now, we’ve all moved on. The three of us are together and that’s what matters.” Yoongi cuts you off before you even start. When you get home, you’re less than amused that your mother is getting ready for the stupid marriage meeting in her room. She ushers you to change, greeting the boys but whisking you away from them just as quickly. You wave goodbye to them, in a dreary mood. “Remember to behave, poise and manners, Y/N. You want to look like a good wife.” “I don’t want to get married. I’m only 18, ma.” She brushes your hair, looking at you with teary eyes. “Your dad wants you to. And he gets what he wants. No matter what.” You sob the entire car ride, your father didn’t even bother coming home as the purpose of this stupid meeting was to make himself look good. You look up to see that the boy before you is an overgrown specimen of child. Not even a man, but just a buff baby. “Hi, how old are you?” You ask politely. The boy lowers his eyes. You already know where this is going even though you’ve barely said a few words. “15, you have nice tits.” You’re in shock, uncomfortable, lonely, and worst of all, your mom won’t even look at you. Your dad presents you like a trophy and then forces you to tell the other parents about your academic achievements before forcing you to sit down. You want to cry. But you don’t. Instead, you call Jimin. “Hey, what’s up? Is the dinner going well?” Your voice starts breaking before you even talk, making you suck in deep breaths before looking out the bathroom window. “No, Jimin. I can’t stay here. They’re gonna force me to marry a 15 year old that just said my boobs look nice. I have to get away, do you guys think you can get me away from my parents? I’m 18, so they can’t legally do anything about it.” You hear him talking to someone in the background, presumably Yoongi.

“It’s me, Jimin just told me...I’m so sorry. All of that is awful, but is running away really going to solve anything? I know things seem bad now, but wait until your mom knows about us, I’m sure she’ll be accepting.” Yoongi sounds confident in himself, so you don’t feel like putting him down.

“Her, maybe. But not my dad. He’ll disown me.”

“Y/N, you are no object. They can’t just marry you off to anyone. And if they do, we’ll make sure it doesn’t happen. You should be allowed the choice of marrying someone you love.” You frown, seeing the tears falling out of your eyes.

“I’ll go out with you.”

═══ 🅣🅘🅜🅔🅢🅚🅘🅟 ═══

Your first date is at the cafe where it all started. The boys make sure to take time off at the same time so your schedules match up. It’s not the most conventional date, as the three of you start discussing where you’ll move in together after you run away from home.

Your dad hasn’t even spoken more than a couple sentences to you. Wow, so caring. You have no reason to stay with them anymore, as he literally forces you to go to stupid dinner parties and sets you up with boys that are too young for you. Even a 12 year old, like what the fuck?

“How was dinner last night?” Jimin asks. You roll your eyes.

“Horrible, as always. These boys are nightmares. I feel bad for their future partners.” You comment.

“Who cares? It’s just dinner. And you’re dating us now. Talk to us, babe.” You like being called “babe.” Especially when Yoongi says it, because he’s just so closed off to everyone else.

“Do you like it when he calls you baby? Because I’m pretty sure he likes it too.” Jimin giggles. Being with your best friend is really no different, except now you can kiss and hug and show affection romantically. He’s just a lot more cuddly with you. And Yoongi doesn’t mind it one bit.

He actually sometimes joins in, hugging you and Jimin lovingly. He’s so protective of you two. You love it.

And they’ve started picking you up after school, to take you out so you can be away from your house for a bit. But at the end of the day, you can always count on crawling into bed with them and dreaming your troubles away. You’ve been sleeping better with them cuddling right next to you.

Sneaking into bed with them has become a habit of yours, and you especially don’t make it clear around your dad that you have feelings for them. Although, lately everything has been striking a nerve. He often calls you to awkward dinner parties and you can’t do anything about it.

Even your boyfriends agree that it’s a bit too much. So much, that one day, Jimin decides to suggest something crazy.

“Let’s make your dad think that you’re ruined.” This catches yours and Yoongi’s attention.

“What? What the hell are you going on about, Jimin?” Uh-oh, when Yoongi uses that tone and says his name like that, you know someone’s in trouble.

“I’m saying that we make her dad think she lost her virginity.” You cross your arms, gasping as Yoongi shields your face with his arms protectively.

“What are you saying? That’s absurd. Her father is already strict as is with us living here, everytime he sees us he crinkles his nose even more. We repulse him, Jimin. What makes you think that we aren’t gonna tick him off even more?” Yoongi makes a good point. Your father was very strict, and homophobic. Perfect traditional 1800s father of the year.

“He’s here because he wants to see his little girl get engaged, right? Well, what if she brought the engagement to him? Have him walk in on one of us sharing a moment with her and then having her dad say she has to marry us?!” You’re baffled. You didn’t think your boyfriend was that dense.

“Idiot, he would probably disown her. And also, no. Maybe not marriage, he might just throw her out of the house altogether.” While you’re busy planning, what you fail to recognize is that your father leaves town again. He’s flying away, and you had no knowledge of it until your mother called you and you saw his packed suitcases as he hugged you goodbye. Looks like the meetings have come to an end.

“Jimin!!! Yoongi!!!! Come downstairs, I need to talk to you two about something.” My mother calls out to them.

“What?” Yoongi is the first to make his way down the stairs, avoiding eye contact with you.

“I’ve noticed the way you two have been interacting with my daughter as of late. The deep stares of longing everytime we sit on the couch and watch t.v together, the smiles of adoration that you only have reserved for special people, heck, even once I saw you holding her hands like she would disappear if you let go,” You can hear the nervous gulps come from the two men as they stare directly at your mom. This can’t be good. “You both have crushes on her, right?” Their eyes widen.

“What? No, I’m dating Yoongi-Boongi. My heart belongs to him and only him.” Jimin says a bit too quickly, making your mom raise her eyebrow in question.

“Your daughter is very pretty, I’ll give you that much, but I’m dating Jimin.” She clicks her tongue, not fully believing them.

“I know what it looks like when boys have a crush on a girl, seeing the way you act around her. So how about you tell me the truth straight to my face?” Jimin is the first to break under her intense stare.

“Fine, you caught me. I like her, okay?!” He says, blushing a brilliant shade of pink. When your mother sees that Yoongi’s expression is indifferent, she narrows her eyes at him.

“You know, don’t you?” He doesn’t say a word, instead taking your arm and pulling you beside him.

“Ma’am, I would like to get your permission to be your daughter’s boyfriend….along with Jiminie.” Considering you were secretly dating for weeks, now seems like the perfect time to ask. Go Yoongi!

“Yes, of course you can date her. You both are so caring and kind and I can’t imagine anyone more fit for the job….even though I didn’t expect two guys. It may be a little strange but I trust that you know your boundaries.” They nod, each of them hugging you tightly and giggling like children.

“We’ll make sure to treat our girlfriend with kindness and respect.” With Yoongi’s gummy smile, your heart melts. You really, really like him.

“You better, or else you’ve got another thing coming.” Your mother’s gaze is threatening enough, as the two men stiffen their backs and stand up straight.

“Loosen up, she’s just kidding. Right, ma?” She nods, laughing happily as she sees her ships coming to life before her eyes. She’s always wanted her daughter to be happy, instead of subjecting her to a life of unhappy arranged marriage. She wants to give her everything she didn’t have as a child.

“Yup. But seriously, break her heart and you’re dead.”

“Moooom.”

That night your mom leaves for work. She didn’t tell you, but you really noticed when you called out for her and she didn’t answer back, only leaving a text on her phone that she would be late. You knew this meant you were home alone with your extremely attractive boyfriends again for the second time this month.

You’re excited, but nervous. The last time the three of you were in the house like this, they made out in front of you and then made you extremely horny. Now, you could only imagine what would happen with the three of you in an actual relationship.

“Y/N, come watch netflix with us!” Jimin calls you to his room, and your eyes widen. You’ve been in their room before, but never totally alone. Your mom or dad would be in the house, but now you’re stuck with these two.

“What are we watching?” You penguin-walk to Yoongi, who hoists you up onto the giant bed. Immediately you fall back from the weight of his knees forming a little disbalance on the mattress. It’s just a tiny ditch.

“I thought you were gonna fall, be careful.” He lightly scolds you, before sitting back and getting cozy with Jimin as you stay in the middle, right between them.

“You guys are so warm.” You inhale their scents, taking in their musk and surprisingly sweet cologne. The strawberry scent must be coming from Jimin. The axe must be from Yoongi. Either way, you’re comfortable.

“No, you are.” Jimin pulls you in between his legs, peppering kisses all over your neck. Normally, you’d be turned on in the situation, but it’s completely innocent. You giggle as he tickles you with his faded blue hair and then you both get lost in each other’s eyes. You love his crescent shaped eyes, how he is a perfect mix of masculine and feminine, breaking all traditional roles of what it means to be a man in the modern world of 2020. If anything, his soft features are what makes him more “manly.” There’s no correct answer. He’s perfect the way he is, and you love the way his lips form a tiny pout, even when he’s happy.

“Just kiss already.” You both look over at Yoongi, who is more concerned with the movie playing on the screen than his two partners sharing a moment right next to him. You give Jimin a look as he leans in and finally closes the gap between you two.

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