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sommerregenjuniluft · 1 month

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@jegulus-microfic march 25 - eyeliner - 2341 words

<33 of losing babies and chance meetings in hawaii

Regulus rubs at his eyes, smudging the remains of eyeliner from the previous evening probably only more.

It’s been a wild night out given that Regulus found himself the only one out of his friend group appearing down for breakfast at the hotel’s buffet. He went for a classic hangover comfort food, coffee with beans and toast and while he longed for the sausages and eggs and fruit and frozen joghurt Regulus isn’t fool enough to think he would have been able to keep all of that down.

Sleep is already tugging at the corners of his mind again when he presses the elevator button to bring him back up to his hotel room to doze away another few more hours. There’s a nice breeze coming in from the double doors leading out to the pool and Regulus leans against the cooling marble of the wall, eyes closed, soaking it all in.

It’s been Pandora’s idea, to get the five of them out for a few days over easter, away from home. From work and family—not that the latter was much of Regulus’ concern—and Regulus must admit that this one is definitely one of her better experiments.

The elevator doors ding and Regulus blinks open his eyes and steps forward only to come to an immediate halt because—

Because there’s a baby in the lift.

Just– all by itself.

Sitting in its buggy. Completely at ease.

Alone.

No like…parent or guardian inside.

What appears to be a small boy with the wildest sort of curly, black hair Regulus has ever seen sits in his seat, one spiderman sock barely hanging onto his toes, chewing away on a toy in his lap and gazing with big, intensely green eyes up at Regulus.

“Uh, hi there, baby,” Regulus says. He sets a foot onto the threshold to keep the doors open and bends down, “Where’s your family, buddy?”

The kid suddenly throws his little body back into the padding of his buggy with a blinding grin and a screech of what Regulus assumes to be ecstatic elation, “Pafoo!”

“Bless you, mate,” Regulus replies politely.

The little boy reaches his hands out to Regulus, “Out!”

And, well, the little bugger might be onto something here because as of right now Regulus must look like a right nutter talking to the inside of an elevator and if the little one’s parents are going to try and find him they’ll probably start at the elevator areas on each floor.

So Regulus gets the small kid out of the elevator and wheels him over to where a set of dark leather sofas and armchairs are gathered opposite the elevator doors.

When Regulus sits down across from the little boy he giggles, happy as ever, as if nothing was amiss.

Well, at least the one time Regulus finds a lost baby it’s a happy one. Lucky draw, he thinks.

The boy is back to chewing on the little rubber ring again and Regulus eyes him curiously, chin propped on his fist. The boy’s skin is a warm brown, similar to Evan’s and Pandora’s and there’s a faint layer of freckles dotting his nose—just like it will happen to Regulus after a few more days out under the Hawaiian sunshine. There’s a small patch of drool on his yellow shirt but he looks clean otherwise.

After another moment of inner contemplation Regulus finally reaches out and tugs the sock back into place.

The boy snickers, wiggling his foot and Regulus finds his lips tugging at the corners.

“Pafoo, out!” the boy repeats again.

Regulus frowns, “Yeah, mate, I already got us off the elevator.”

The little boy keeps squirming in his seat.

“Oh,” Regulus makes when it dawns on him, “Oh, out. Er– yes, sure, hold on.”

He scoots forward on the leather to inspect the little belt trapping the boy in his seat. Eventually Regulus finds the lock, figures out the mechanism and untangles the boy from his buggy. Before he has the chance to freeze and wonder if the boy is even old enough to be able to walk yet there are small, chubby arms reaching out to him and tangling around his neck.

“Oh, okay,” Regulus blinks, feeling his tiny body warm where it’s pressed into his chest, “Um, okay, I’m– okay, uh. Hi.”

The boy pulls back from the crook of Regulus’ neck, smiling brightly. “Hi,” he replies, sweet as sugar and waving a hand at him. Regulus’ heart does not melt.

Regulus’ eyes however clock the small bracelet on the boy’s wrist, donned with little letters spelling out the name Harry.

“Harry, huh?” he asks. “My name is Regulus.”

Harry makes another one of his loud, elated noises, “Pafoo!”

“Nah, mate, Re-gu-lus.”

“Pafoo,” Harry grins.

“Fine,” Regulus sniffs, “I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from a one or two year old.”

Harry giggles again, nose scrunching adorably and hiccuping little laughs into Regulus’ shoulder.

If Regulus had ovaries he’s pretty sure they would be actively doing something right now which– is decidedly a disturbing thought to have. In a manner of trying to distract himself Regulus looks around, gaze landing on the socks once more.

“So what’s your favourite Spiderman movie, Harry?”

“Spidey!”

“Yes, which one?”

“Pafoo.”

“Mine’s probably the one with Andrew Garfield.”

“Mo!” Harry yells suddenly, pointing back at his buggy.

“Mo?” Regulus asks, confused.

“Mo,” Harry makes again, knocking his tiny, loosely curled fists against each other.

That’s when the clarity washes over Regulus, lips dropping open with a silent oh of understanding. It’s sign language for more.

He’s seen young parents teach their babies sign language for easier communication and with Dorcas being hard of hearing Regulus and his friends obviously have taken on learning a whole lot as well. The basics are as easy for Regulus as English and French are by now.

“More of what?” Regulus asks, doing the according signs.

“Tea!” Harry responds, smiling brightly, clearly happy with being understood.

Regulus kicks at the buggy to turn it and then fishes a sippy cup out of the holder next to the handles.

Harry slurps away at his cold tea content and does the little gulp ahh thing small kids do when they exhale once they’re done drinking.

Regulus does not think about adopting a baby.

“Harry!” someone calls from the end of the hall suddenly and may the gods stand by because the person running over is undoubtedly the most handsome man Regulus has ever seen.

The small boy in Regulus arms is literally a carbon copy what with the wild, black hair, the dark skin and the bright smile.

“Dada!” Harry yells, as if it wasn’t clear as day that they share the same DNA.

Regulus’ hands start sweating where they’re still around Harry’s now wiggling body, watching the young man rush over.

“Oh, god, thank you thank you,” the stranger chants, carefully lifting Harry out of Regulus’ hands, “Hi, baby, hi. Daddy’s here. Oh, holy fuck.”

Regulus snorts a little at the crude language but, alas, Harry is probably too young to remember anyways.

He gives them their little moment of embracing, fighting against the restless squirming in his stomach, the thing scratching at the inside of his walls demanding to find out everything about the cute boy’s father.

Once the young father has got enough squeeze time and Harry starts trying to wiggle free, he lets out another string of curses, this time Spanish, and Regulus barely refrains from whimpering.

He has to trap another one behind his teeth when the man finally, actually glances at him, relief clear on his features, laughing breathlessly and chocolate brown eyes glinting happily and with ebbing nerves.

“Thank you, I’m–” the handsome stranger blinks a little, mouth working uselessly before he slips back into a lopsided grin, “Hi, I’m James, you- wow, hello, uh– thank you, um, for Harry. I’m so glad he’s okay, I’m James– by the way. And you are? Aside from my gorgeous knight in shining armour.”

Regulus cocks a brow, hands on his naked hips right above the elastic of his short running pants and below his cropped, black shirt with pink letters saying those are bold words for someone in stabbing range. It was a Christmas present from his friends and the first thing he saw after rolling out of bed with a hangover this morning, sue him.

“No problem, he’s a little sunshine,” Regulus replies, gazing at Harry where he’s fiddling with James’ necklace, “I’m Regulus.”

“Wait,” James says, jaw dropping, “Your name is—”

“James!” it comes from the other side of the hall, followed by another rush of footsteps and Regulus turns to see two more men jogging over to them. One of them being—

“Jesus, fuck, I’m so glad you found him,” Sirius says, eyes fixated on James and Harry.

Sirius, as in, Regulus’ older brother Sirius.

Sirius, as in, Regulus’ older brother that he hasn’t seen in four years.

Sirius with his long-ish hair falling down to his armpits now in long, soft curls. Sirius with his arms full of tattoos and wearing red bootie shorts and having pierced nipples and Sirius with pink cheeks and a relieved look on his face and Sirius having his fingers interlaced with another man’s.

Sirius blowing out another breath as he strokes the little boy’s cheek carefully, “Where’d you find h—”

Sirius that swivels and looks right at Regulus standing dumbfounded in a random hotel lobby on fucking Hawaii.

“Regulus.”

“Sirius.”

“I– what are you doing here?”

Regulus narrows his eyes, “I found Harry.”

“You what?”

“Are you deaf?” Regulus shoots back, “I found your friend’s baby.”

Sirius’ mouth drops open, “Excuse me, that is my godson.”

Regulus slips into a frown, suddenly and stupidly feeling a bit possessive over the little kid that is clearly taken with him but apparently supposed to be his older brother’s godson.

He sniffs, crossing his arms, “Well, you’re clearly not doing your job well seeing as you’ve lost him. Also he called me his Pafoo.”

Regulus expects Sirius to volley back another insult, a counter-argument or something of the likes but instead he lets the loudest, most dramatic gasp rip from his throat.

“Oh God,” James mumbles, blanching but failing to keep his lips from twitching.

The man next to Sirius looks just as conflicted, instantly cooing into Sirius’ ear soothingly and rubbing his shoulder as this one whimpers like a wounded dog.

“What?” Regulus asks, looking at James.

The handsome father winces with a badly concealed grin before he ducks close, murmuring, “It’s Padfoot. That’s what we call Sirius, it’s sorta his nickname.”

Regulus can’t help it, the gleeful laugh bubbles right out of him. He could kiss little Harry right now.

“No!” Sirius wails, letting himself fall back into the lanky, taller man’s arms. “Betrayal!”

“Come now, Pads, he’s 18 months old,” the third man says soothingly.

“Remus is right,” James concurs, “Harry doesn’t even know my mum from our neighbour most times.”

“Effie doesn’t live with you,” Sirius cries out.

Regulus thinks there might actually be tears forming in his eyes.

“And neither do you,” James says pointedly, “You’re across the hall and you work full time, might I remind you. You’re over maybe four times a week.”

“Five! At least!”

“Sirius, darling, please stop yelling,” Remus mutters, glancing at a passing old couple with a wobbly smile.

Regulus grins, “No, please keep going, this is the highlight of my vacation so far.”

There’s a poke in his naked side and when Regulus looks over James is giving him a playful scolding glare.

Regulus digs his teeth into his lower lip, voice purposefully innocent, “What?”

“Don’t be a tease,” James chides but it sorta loses the edge with how wide he’s smiling.

“Or else?” Regulus counters.

James hums, giving Regulus a once over before clearing his throat, looking back at his friend, “Here, Moons, can you take Harry for a second?”

Sirius makes an affronted noise, looking downright stricken and he quickly takes Remus’ outstretched hands, pulling, what is presumably his boyfriend, out of reach for James. “Two Potters in one day!? Prongs, are you trying to kill me?”

James sighs, pulling Harry back against his hip which then decides to reach out his hands to Sirius, “Pafoo.”

“That’s right,” Sirius sniffs, crossing the distance and ripping Harry from James’ hold, “I love you, little stinker. You’ll get it with time, I know you will. You’re such a smart boy, Hazza.”

Harry immediately starts playing with the thin braids in Sirius’ hair and his brother swivels to level Regulus with a triumphant smirk.

“Whatever,” Regulus says, crossing his arms again.

But before jealousy, no matter over whom, can spread itself in Regulus’ chest, Sirius is stepping closer.

Regulus is certain their flip flops nearly touch and Sirius is staring at him intensely with the same eyes he sees in the mirror every day, and it makes him swallow. The freckle over Sirius’ mouth is just the same as four years ago, as is the one on Regulus’ temple.

“There’s a baby swimming lesson at the pool I wanted to attend with Harry later at 2,” Sirius says, voice husky, “Care to join?”

Regulus was supposed to meet the others back in Barty and Evan’s room at 3 but they’re probably passed out until then anyways. “I think I can make some time,” he replies airily.

Sirius blows out a heavy breath through his nose, before slipping into a grin, “Good.”

“Good,” Regulus mimics.

“I bet Harry floats better than you,” Sirius taunts, “Do you still sink like a stone?”

“It’s amazing how much of a talent you still possess for making me regret things,” Regulus snips back.

Sirius bumps their shoulder together, making Harry giggle and Regulus purses his lips in an effort to hide his smile.

And then James is there on the other side of him, taking Harry back from Sirius and smiling sweetly down at Regulus and for some reason his cheeks feel a little warmer suddenly.

—

[also for personal reasons i need everyone to know these were the booty shorts sirius was wearing]

#dad james potter #i'm rewatching modern family and mitch and cam lost lily in an elevator on hawaii so now we have this #jegulus #jegulus microfic #starchaser #sunseeker #wolfstar #baby harry potter #toddler harry potter #lune writes #lune’s tiny fic #regulus black #james potter #black brothers #sirius black

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dewsgremlin · 11 days

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What the ghouls daily eat for breakfast

Rain: lucky charms. But with water because he hates milk. (He also hates the yellow marshmallows - he says they taste like dry clue but with the consistency of rubber, so he picks them out and gives them to Dewdrop.)

Cumulus: wholecorn bread with cheese and cucumber, yogurt with fresh fruits out of the garden and a cup of coffee and a big glass of self-pressed orange juice.

Aether: pancakes with fresh fruits and syrup. (made by Mountain - he is the best cook.) And a cup of coffee with sugar and a few glasses of juice.

Dewdrop: mostly just two cups of black coffee, a cup of filmjölk and a cigarette. (And he eats the yellow marshmallows Rain gives him. Dew thinks they taste the same like the other marshmallows in the lucky charms, but he would never say that to Rain, because he knows that Rain is a picky eater.)

Swiss: pancakes with jam (made by mountain of course), baked beans, five toasts hawaii with ham, pineapple and cheese, a hard boiled egg, a glass of apple juice, two cups of coffee with milk. (The boy needs energy for the stage lol)

Cirrus: scrambled eggs with a lot of bacon and black coffee.

Aurora: no breakfast. Only tea. Sometimes a cup of vanilla oat milk.

Sunshine: toasts with chocolate cream, honey and strawberry jam, chocolate croissants and a cup of chocolate milk.

Phantom: He is scared to miss something, so he wants to try everything for breakfast. One day he eats lucky charms (only once because Rain doesn't want to share with him anymore since Phantom said that the yellow marshmallows taste better than the others), the next day he eats baked beans, vanilla ice cream, corndogs or cheesecake. He loves coffee but only with lots of sugar and milk. (He once took a sip of Dew's coffee, immediately spat it out again and accused Dewdrop of trying to poison him.)

Copia: pancakes with mable syrup and a big cup of coffee with oat milk. (And little cheese pieces, which he shares with his rats.)

#the band ghost #nameless ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #ghoul hcs #rain ghoul #nameless ghouls #cardinal copia #aether ghoul #phantom ghoul #mountain ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #papa emeritus iv #raindrop #breakfast

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

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Trouble in Paradise | Epilogue | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: After the most painful break-up of his life, Rooster is stationed in Hawaii for the next six months. Alone, away from home and hurting, he finds comfort in the arms of a stranger.

Warnings: no use of y/n, age gap (rooster is in his mid-30s, reader is in her early 20s), mentions of sex and betrayal, adultery — this takes place 5 years after 1.8

…

“Honey, are you okay? - You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He has. He’s staring right at one. Suspended in time, he barely hears her speaking to him, his hearing and his vision are tunneled. It’s just you. Centre of the universe, like you always have been to him.

Rooster swallows, his adam’s apple rising and falling in his throat. That ache is back, the hole in his chest that he hasn’t felt in a couple of years, torn open right here and now in front of everyone.

You’re looking right at him. Across the room, sitting at a different table, listening to the same speech.

He has to blink a couple of times. This has happened before. It happened a lot after he left. Seeing your face everywhere he turned, it never being you. But this time it is.

He has had this dream before. Being here, staring at you from across the room. The ache in his chest feels the exact same way it does in those dreams. He blinks and it’s still you. He half wants to pinch himself.

You look different now, shorter hair, he’s never seen you dressed up like this - but Rooster could recognise you anywhere. He looks the same.

“Please join me in raising a toast in memory of tonight’s guest of honour, Admiral Tom Kazansky.”

You turn your head away from him, fighting back the sick feeling in your stomach as you lift your glass. Rooster’s still staring. He watches you raise your glass, then he catches sight of the man at your side.

He’s greying, his hairline isn’t what it once was - Rooster has met that guy before. They worked together for a couple of weeks about a year ago. It takes Rooster a split second to see past his anger that you’re with someone else, to realise that you aren’t here with an older man.

That’s your father. Of course it is, Rooster remembers sitting in the hospital with you, hearing that he was Navy. Rooster thinks back to last summer, working with that man for four weeks in Lemoore, having no idea. You’re nothing like that guy.

He thinks back to that summer. Five years ago. The winter that followed. The ache in his chest since he moved back.

“Honey.” An elbow presses softly into his side.

Rooster turns, disoriented, frowning at the face before him. Sara lifts her glass and hands him his. She smiles, tapping the rim of her glass against his with a soft clink. God, he loves that smile.

He loves her. He watches her take a sip of her sparkling water while his glass of champagne remains stationary in his hand. He drapes his arm across the back of her chair and runs his fingers through the loosely curled ends of her hair.

Sara Bradshaw smiles as her husband leans into her side and kisses the top of her head, before taking a sip of his own drink. She sets her drink back onto the table and rests her hand on top of her rounded stomach. Rooster glances down at her hand.

The engagement ring he put on it, the wedding ring he gave her after that. The pregnant stomach that her hand sits on.

You shoot one more look over there, and your heart sinks. His arm around her shoulder, leaning into her side. She’s pregnant. They look happy. Well, she does. He did, before he spotted you.

You turn your head back towards the stage, taking a long sip from your glass. Five years — you’re ridiculous for thinking that some trace of you, six months from half a decade ago, would be enough for him to have waited. It’s not like you did. There’s a ring on your finger too.

When your father had asked you to come here tonight, there had been a part of you that had hoped Rooster would be here. The other part of you knew that he would be.

He had mentioned Iceman to you once or twice, the Admiral that looked out for him occasionally, invited him up for thanksgiving every year even if it was more of a nice gesture than an actual invitation.

It’s a charity event in honour of Tom Kazansky, you would be lying if you said that you didn’t know Bradley would be here.

You just didn’t expect to see him looking so happy, so moved on. Married and expecting. Like he wanted. You lower your gaze, staring at your hands in your lap, feeling stupid for thinking he would still be stuck on you.

Rooster turns his head once more and looks over.

You aren’t looking at him anymore. Instead, you’re toying with the stem of your champagne glass, staring at the table cloth. There’s a look on your face that Rooster has seen before. He has hurt you before, he’s hurting you now. His instinct is to get up out of his chair in front of all of these people and cross the room. Instead, he stays exactly where he is. With his wife.

“You look so handsome tonight.” Sara whispers, smiling softly as she curls her fingers around his. He turns his head to look at her, his face softening just slightly. He lifts her hand and presses his lips to her knuckles.

“I love you.” He whispers back.

She takes his hand in hers and rests it over her pregnant stomach, smiling as he leans closer into her side. You turn your gaze towards the ceiling and just breathe. You left him. You’re the one who ended it. You’ve been happy without him - he’s happy without you.

It’s wrong to be upset.

And yet, you’re just about ready to drop your head into your hands and bawl your eyes out. He’s yours, it isn’t fair.

There are two speeches right off the bat, and then a brief break for people to mingle. Rooster watches. You’re the first one at your table to stand up, you turn and head right for the door.

“I’m going to head to the bathroom, little guy thinks my bladder is a trampoline.” Sara breathes, giving her husband a soft smile. He turns his attention back towards her and blinks.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you in a second, honey - I’m gonna get some air.”

He shouldn’t.

But he does. It’s been five years - he can’t wait another second. His feet carry him in the direction you had left in before his heart’s even on board with the idea, let alone his head.

It took him so long.

That first year without you had been hell. It only seemed fair. Six months making a fool of the woman he was supposed to spend forever with, a year of mourning her.

It was hard seeing Amy again. At first, he had struggled to look her in the eye. Amy had hoped that when she saw Rooster that he would be heartbroken, alone, tormented. He had been. It just hadn’t healed her like she thought it would. Because it wasn’t her taking up that space in his heart.

Rooster moved around a lot in that first year. The first thing he had done when he had gotten back was to end his lease, move out of the apartment he had shared with Amy and into a different place. That had just made it worse.

It was indescribable, the ache in his chest, the hole in his heart — the wound that he kept fresh in case you ever needed a place with him again. His friends hadn’t understood it. Mav hadn’t understood it. He felt like no one was ever going to.

There was one time, he had been drunk and wallowing in his pain. He had text you at three in the morning. Written six texts, maybe a couple thousand words, deleted them all and wrote them out again and again. Eventually settled on ‘I miss you’. He hadn’t ever received a response. That was over four years ago.

Maybe he should have sent the thousands of words, poured his heart out into the little blue bubble. It’s too late for that now.

He met Sara after a year away from you. A pretty girl that worked in an office near his apartment. The girl that smiled at him as she was waiting by the bus stop and he was jogging back to his apartment every evening.

The girl he married. Mother of his daughter, soon to be the mother of his son. The girl that hadn’t ever taken the time to ask exactly who it is that Bradley absentmindedly reached across his bed for in the mornings.

He steps outside and takes a big gulp of air. They’re close enough to the ocean that if he closes his eyes, he’s back there, sitting under the stars. With you in his arms.

He breathes as best as he can. He’s been to his fair share of Lamaze classes by now. In through his nose, out through his mouth — it’s bullshit, none of the people teaching those classes has ever felt what he feels. No one has ever loved and lost someone like you.

Bradley thinks back to the happiest days of his life. His wedding day. Layla’s birth, her saying ‘dada’ for the first times, her first steps. The day up on the cliffs, you sitting in his lap, curled into his side, telling him you loved him.

It’s back again, the detachment in his limbs. The numbness he felt whilst grieving you. Like he’s on autopilot, he lifts his hand and brushes it over his face. He leans his head back and turns his chin towards the stars, exhaling heavily.

It took so long for him to get here. Searching for pieces, covering up the hole you left — thinking he was healing it. The cover’s torn apart and the wound is exposed, he feels like all of those feelings are right here, pouring out all over the concrete under his feet.

Learning to love Sara, to lean into her touch like he had with yours. To stop thinking about how it was when he’s holding her.

He feels the feeling in his throat and swallows the whimper, breathing through his nose once again. He opens his eyes and finds the Orion’s Belt. They’re too close to a city here. Doesn’t look like it did sitting on the hood of your bronco that first summer, when he was just getting to know you.

Nothing’s the same as it was back then.

“Hey, sailor.”

There’s a sadness to the words as they come from behind them. Behind his eyelids, you’re there, standing on the other side of that bar, in that ridiculously short skirt, prepared to change his life forever.

In reality, you’re standing behind him, no longer that girl.

On autopilot once more, because there’s no way he could consciously bring himself to look at you ever again, he turns to face you. His heart leaps up into his throat. He didn’t get it wrong, it wasn’t his imagination. The hole in his heart stands before him, calm.

Baby. The word almost slips his lips, an immediate reaction, like a breath he has been holding in all this time. He wants to hold you, to reach out and wrap his arms around you. He stops himself just in time. Only then, he’s left with nothing in his head to say.

He stands before you, lips parted, brows raised. So much to say and no way of possibly saying it all the way that he wants to.

“Hi.” Rooster breathes out. He almost says that he thought it was you, but there’s no point. There was never any doubt in his mind, he would know your face anywhere.

Even when you look so different now, so matured. No tell-tale short skirt and knock-off sunglasses. Tamed, sea-salt free hair, a long dress and elegant heeled shoes.

He still looks the same, if you forgive the smile lines around his eyes and the stray grey hairs that are peppered around his temples.

“You’re married.” Saying it outloud stings like a fresh cut, for you and for him. Your words draw across his skin and leave him wounded, not an ounce of dishonesty in your comment, but a painful realisation nonetheless.

He looks down at the wedding ring on his finger and nods slowly. Bradley considers what comes next — it feels wrong to fill you in on what his life has become, when it still feels like it should have been with you.

“Yeah,” He confirms gently, lifting his gaze. There’s a sadness in his eyes, almost an apologetic look. Regret, perhaps — you aren’t sure.

It’s too quiet out here, like the world around you has stopped just so that you can hear how quiet he’s being. How ashamed of himself he is. You should probably be happy about that.

You aren’t.

“She’s pretty.” You try.

His eyes on yours, his features soft. Rooster shakes his head softly, not daring to take a single step towards you, feeling like he hasn’t quite earned that yet.

“I’m so sorry.” I wish it was different. I wish I had been different. I miss you, baby.

Your head tilts just a fraction. His heart sinks. The corners of your mouth twitch, pulling up into a soft smile. Reassurance, ‘it’s okay’ without actually saying that. It’s not okay, it hasn’t been for the past five years, and now that you’re standing here in front of him, he’s beginning to realize that it never will be.

“You’re going to be a dad,” You tell him, like he doesn’t already know, like he didn’t spend all of last weekend building furniture for his son’s room. It feels wrong to hear you say it. It feels wrong to have you hear, in front of him, in this life. He stares back at you. “Is this your first?”

He shakes his head slowly. It takes him a while to find the words to give you a real answer, his eyes never once leaving yours — like if he looks away then you’ll be gone for good.

“I have a daughter.” He answers quietly, unsure where to start. “She’s about to turn three. Her name’s Layla.”

About to turn three. You take a small, stumbling step back and then stop. You shouldn’t be upset by this — you’re the one who let him go. You should feel happy that he has moved on, you’re mature enough to know that by now.

You tip your chin just slightly, leaning your head back to look at the sky and breathe softly. Now that you’re not looking at him, he takes a moment to look at you. Really look.

Olive coloured satin, draped against your skin, shoulders exposed other than thin straps. A gold necklace that sits slightly askew between your collarbones. He reaches out for you first. His fingers graze over the skin of your open palm, featherlight and chilled from the sea air.

There’s no knowing what to do in a situation like this. The only certainty left in your head is that you shouldn’t have come tonight, but even that falters. Maybe you should have never let him go.

This is the scary part. His fingertips grazing your skin, those sad brown eyes looking right at you, and you’re putty in his hands. You want to tell him that it’s okay, that you’ve been okay, but that wouldn’t be the complete truth.

He has no idea how to proceed. There’s no way he could possibly explain to you how grateful he is for his wife, and their incredible daughter who reminds him more of himself everyday. It doesn’t even make sense to himself, how he can be so grateful for all of that, and still miss you so much.

His fingers slide across the lines in your palm as you count the stars over your head until it makes you dizzy. His hand in yours, the sky overhead, the sea over your shoulder — familiarity isn’t as nice of a feeling as you had thought it would be.

He touches metal. Quickly, Bradley’s gaze falls down. He takes your hand in his and lifts it slightly. You look ahead of you, right at him, watching his adam’s apple rise and fall in his throat.

“You’re engaged.” He realizes.

Hm. You had almost forgotten about that. He looks back up and meets your gaze — there he is. You catch a glimpse of him for a split second, the same protective Bradley who had dragged you out of a bar and thrown you over his shoulder. His features soften and he’s gone as quickly as he had appeared.

But, he’s still in there. The man that had loved you so fiercely.

“Yeah,” You nod your head slowly. It’s recent, and it’s not that big of a deal, but Caleb insists that you wear the ring. “He’s… nice.”

But he’s not you. Understanding in his eyes. Another glimpse and then it’s gone. It’s an odd feeling, because you do love Caleb — you wouldn’t have said yes if you didn’t, but he’ll never be Bradley.

Caleb is a chef, and he’s kind to you. It took him eighty days and fifteen dates to win you over, but he did it all without a single complaint. He holds you through thunderstorms and rubs your back without you having to ask — he promised to love you for the rest of his life and meant it.

You’ve been together for almost two years.

Bradley’s thumb trails over the ring. It’s a pear-cut opal on a gold band — those aren’t strong enough for everyday wear. It’s not going to last. The rock will be fucked in a couple of years, at most. He wonders if this guy that you’re marrying even knows that.

“Congratulations,” Bradley says softly. He looks up and offers you a small smile. “I’m happy for you.”

That’s not true. His hand remains in yours. He brushes his thumb across your knuckles. In all the days he has spent thinking of you, he hadn’t thought of this — marriage. With someone else. He swallows.

The last time he saw you, the pain in your eyes when you told him that you would never trust him enough to want to marry him. That you’d never be able to give him the future he needed. You’re giving it to someone else.

“Are you?”

Rooster’s polite little smile falters just slightly. He opens his mouth to answer, but you both already know what it is. Call it selfish, but he knows that he could never be happy for you, not unless you were his. His fingers weave between yours, he takes a small step closer to you.

“Honey, they’re about to start—“ Your father’s voice trails, his steps slow until he’s stalled all together. He adjusts the jacket of his uniform. His eyes flicker between you and the man standing in front of you. His hand in yours. The wedding ring on his finger. You pull back calmly and offer Rooster a tight-lipped smile.

“It was good seeing you again. I’ll catch you later.”

Your father’s brows furrow slightly as you step away from this married man and towards him. Rooster’s lips part, he knows how this looks. Nonetheless, he lets you lead the way back inside.

Rooster takes a couple of extra seconds to himself, looking up at the sky. He loves his wife, he loves his family — this is what he wanted. He looks like he belongs with Sara, they’re the same age and they have plenty in common. This is why he gave up a future with you. It’s selfish to want both and he knows that. But god, he has missed being that close to you.

Joe turns his head, watching as the man he had seen outside walks slowly back into the room and slips into his seat next to a pretty-looking woman with brown hair and a rounded, pregnant belly. His head whips around to look at you, seething.

“What did you do?” He accuses, his voice no more than an angry whisper.

You swallow softly and sink down in your seat. It’s still strange being around your father, much less being parented by him. Maybe this would have been more effective when you were a teenager, now that you’re an adult, there isn’t much he can do or say about things you’ve already done.

After his heart attack last winter, Joe has really dedicated himself to getting to know you. He’s been trying, you can’t deny him that. But it’s too little too late for him to start lecturing you.

“I knew him before he got married.” You answer calmly, grabbing your champagne flute and taking a long sip.

Joe scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief, “So, do you make a habit of holding hands with married men?”

“I haven’t seen him in years, he’s just someone that I used to know.” You defend yourself, drinking again and setting your now empty glass back down on the table. You breathe out hard and glance over there, catching his gaze. Sad brown eyes across the room. All he’ll ever be.

The lights go down as you lock eyes with him. Caught, he quickly turns his attention back to the stage.

“He’s too old for you.” Joe mutters bitterly. You scoff.

Heart thudding in your chest, trying to focus in on the voice on the stage. This is going to be a long night. You reach across the table and grab Joe’s glass, bringing it to your lips and knocking it back. He shouldn’t be drinking on his heart meds anyway.

“Oh, holy shit.” Jake splutters over his beer, eyes going round as dinner plates. Chloe spins, craning her neck to get a look at whatever has her husband so spooked. He catches hold of her shoulders and positions her, pointing past her shoulder. “That’s the girl from Hawaii.”

“No!” Chloe gasps, mouth hanging open. Jake nods, wincing as he looks towards Rooster and his wife standing over by the bar. Chloe rests her hand on her stomach, she’s having a girl that’ll be about a month younger than Bradley’s son. Jake’s already gearing up for a lifetime of chasing Bradley’s son away from his kid.

Chloe looks between Bradley and you. “She’s really cute. Do you think Sara knows?”

Engaged. Rooster stares down at his beer, brows furrowed angrily towards the brown glass bottle. You’re fucking engaged. You told him never. He would have fucking waited, he could have —

“Bradley, are you… alright? — You’re being really quiet.” Sara says softly, resting her hand against his arm. He lifts his head and turns to look at her. Really looks. He loves Sara. She’s a fantastic mother to their daughter, her laugh is infectious and when she smiles it feels like his heart could just explode.

Now, faced with exactly what he turned away from five years ago, he’s not so sure. You made him so happy. He could have made you so happy.

“If that asshole doesn’t stop staring over here, I swear to god, I’m going to knock him on his ass.” Joe mumbles angrily, shaking his head and shifting on his feet. You glance across. Bradley’s still staring.

“Joe, stop.” You complain, sipping at your drink. A couple more of these and you’ll stop being bothered by Rooster’s presence all together.

“I told you to start calling me Dad.” Joe bites back angrily. You roll your eyes at the thought. He folds his arms across his chest. “So, what — you dated him or something?”

Another big gulp. “Or something.”

It’s hard to define. A summer of falling in love, a winter of having your heart screwed up, stepped on, and then clumsily pieced back together with someone who is now a stranger to you. He didn’t piece your heart back together right, maybe that’s why you ended things — why it took so long to move on.

“Stop. Drinking.” Joe growls, snatching the glass from your hands. You wobble with the sudden force, taking a deep breath.

You glance across at Rooster, he’s looking at his wife now, his hand resting against her stomach as she leans in to talk to him. You stifle a whimper, forcing yourself to stay upright.

“I feel sick.”

Joe opens his mouth to make a snarky comment. Something along the lines of that being an appropriate response. You don’t get a chance to hear it, brushing past him and hastening towards the ladies room. Jake glances across at Rooster. Rooster watches you leave, concern creasing his features.

“Honey, I’m gonna be right back,” Rooster leans forwards and kisses Sara’s temple, squeezing her bicep tenderly. “Just have to…”

He trails off and shakes his head. He can’t think straight right now. Sara’s brows furrow as her husband takes off again. Jake catches a hold of Chloe’s wrist and stops her from following, shooting her a serious look.

You flinch as the door to the bathroom swings into the tile, eyes blowing wide open. “Rooster, what the fuck?”

“I just need to say a couple of things.” He pushes the door shut behind him and fumbles for a lock, then stops himself. He probably shouldn’t do that. He pulls at his collar, it feels especially tight all of a sudden. You stare at him, leaning back against the counter to the sink.

It’s hard not to soften, knowing that he came in here because he’s worried about you. He watches you relax as he takes a step towards you.

“I missed you,” His voice is quiet, like if he says it too loudly then this will become too much. Like he might scare you off. Your brows raise, just the slightest bit. He takes another step. “I thought about you so fucking much. You said you’d never get married.”

You swallow softly, he’s too close now. Close enough that you could touch him with minimal effort. That you can smell him, intoxicating and familiar. That you’re drawn in, suckered by those soft, brown eyes.

“I said I’d never marry you.” You answer quietly.

Five years later and that still hurts. He steps closer to you, brows creasing. He breathing shallows as he tries not to overreact, standing right in front of you know.

“I wanted to stay, I would’ve stayed.” Rooster breathes out, searching your features, hoping for you to give him the answer he’s looking for. You glance down as he rests his palm against the counter to your side, pinning you between him and the marble.

There’s a long pause, because you don’t know what to say. Sending him away seemed like the right decision, and it probably was, but that doesn’t mean you ever stopped thinking about him.

“You’re married.” You remind him quietly. It goes unsaid, but you’ve both got the same thing on your mind. It’s too late. He’s been wondering for the last five years if it is, he can’t spend the rest of his life not knowing.

He breathes out and takes that final step forwards, pressing his body into yours, cupping your jaw between his index finger and thumb as his lips crash into yours. A surprised hum slips out, you bump into the counter behind you.

You curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt and pull him forwards again, pressing your lips to his. He nips at your bottom lip, the taste of champagne on your tongue as it slides against his.

His hands wrap around your waist and trail down to cup your ass, you hum eagerly into his mouth. You’ve missed this. For a couple of seconds, it’s just the two of you, like it used to be. Rooster presses himself into you. You tense up as he grabs your hips and drops you onto the counter, relaxing instantly into his touch.

Rooster lips his tongue into your mouth once again, grabbing your knees and parting them, moving to stand between your thighs. His fingertips trail up along your legs, as far as the slit in your dress will allow him. Not far enough.

Out of breath and growing dizzy, you have to pull back, eyes widening. You breathe hard, staring at the man you loved, wide-eyed. Your gaze falls down to look at his hand on your thigh, the gold band on his ring finger.

As soon as you look back up at him, it’s clear that you’re both thinking the same thing. He swipes his thumb tenderly over your cheek, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Fuck.” It’s not quite a sigh, more of a rushed breath. Your eyes widen whilst his close, he takes a step back. He runs a hand over his face and leans his head back. Frowning, you lean forwards and try again. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

You push yourself down from the counter and press a hand over your mouth. There’s a brief pause, a million thoughts streaming through his head as he tries to figure out what the fuck that was and how the fuck he is making the same mistake again.

Rooster turns his head and looks at you, searching for an answer here and now rather than in the memories he made with you. You swallow softly. It felt the same.

“That was such a dumb mistake, Bradley, I’m so sorry.”

Silenced, he stares at you again. There’s his answer. He nods his head slowly and takes another step back from you. It’s not easy to agree, and so he doesn’t, that didn’t feel like a mistake to him. It probably should’ve.

You can see it in his face, he’s so easy to read and he always has been. He still loves you. There’s a strange, brief sense of triumph that fills you. It’s gone as quickly as it rises when you remember the beautiful woman that he’s here with tonight, who he chose to start a family with.

“I should go.”

“Yeah,” He runs his fingers through his hair and nods for you to leave first. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll… see you around.”

Bradley closes his eyes as you turn away from him.

As your feet carry you off of the tile and into the carpeted hallway, there’s no need to turn around. You’re left with more answers than you were expecting. You had been right about him.

He could’ve never been what you wanted. This was always the future he was meant to have. Your heart settles in your chest, glancing down and fiddling with the ring on your finger. You’d made the right choice.

…

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #trouble in paradise #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut

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httpknjoon · 5 months

Text

toast and wedding plannings | ksj

plot | you have a busy schedule but you want to be jin's wife as soon as possible. so you two did the most logical thing to do.

word count | 3.2k

genres | fluff

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader

note | of course, the a-listers would always be the one who will break me out my writer's block era.

main masterlist | the a-listers: confidential masterlist

“Okay, the premiere is on the fifth of December. But before that, you will be doing interviews, mostly online. A few are solo, but most of that stuff is with your castmates. By the way, Val from Indian Paintbrush sent an e-mail, specifically for you. She said…”

A blue bird landed on one of the branches of your red maple tree in your backyard. You watched as it stood there quietly, letting your assistant’s voice from your phone go into the background. The bird probably felt your eyes on him as it turned its small beak in your direction before flying away. Left with no more entertainment, you sighed before turning around. That’s when you see your fiance of almost three weeks placing a cup of coffee and a plate of toast on the patio table.

“Hailey. Schedule.” you mouthed at him while pointing to your phone that you were holding next to your ear.

He nods before signing and then mouthing a word, “Peanut butter?”

You looked at the food he prepared for you before soundlessly replying, “Banana, please.”

Jin smiled and gave you a double thumbs-up before walking back in to get your request. Your attention returns to the call you were in as you sat on your outdoor sofa.

“... and as you requested, I cleared out your schedule for your Seoul trip with Jin,” Hailey said with a proud tone. “Thank God, Fallon’s producers agreed to move your guesting next month. They said yes after I offered them exclusive photos from your trip, just like you said.”

“It’s like a consolation gift.” you chuckled.

Since you were already booked for the Tonight Show a month ago, you knew that it would be a headache for everyone involved when you asked for your guesting to be moved to January. Knowing how the industry works, even though you really hate sharing your personal agendas with everyone, you decided to offer some “exclusive” photos from your trip that Hollywood loves to the show’s producers.

“Anyway, thank you so much for everything, Hailey.”

“Yeah, no problem. Just enjoy your week. Next week will be crazy busy again.” she spoke.

“I know.” you sighed. “You too! Enjoy your week there in Hawaii.”

Just as you hang up the call, Jin enters again with your bananas. You smiled as you noticed he sliced it already. He sat next to you and almost immediately, you rested on his shoulder, making him wrap his arms around you.

“Busy schedule?” he asked, sensing the exhaustion from you even though it was only eight in the morning.

You snuggled closer to his chest, “I just wish I had more time to plan the wedding.”

“Don’t worry, we still have a lot more time to do that. I can wait for you,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

Unlike you, Jin doesn’t have any work commitments left for this year. He already had plans of visiting his extended family back in South Korea for next month so he made sure to empty out his schedule. And since you just got engaged weeks ago, you joined in on his month-long trip, making some surprise changes to your agenda.

You looked up, “But I can’t. I want to be your wife like right now.”

Jin just laughed at what he thought to be a joke from you. His attention went to the food, spreading peanut butter on your toast. You, on the other hand, scrunched your eyebrows as you watched him. Because you’re not kidding. You want to get married as soon as possible with him. It’s like a switch flipped in your brain ever since that morning after you said yes to his proposal. You are just so happy and excited to marry him.

When Jin noticed you not laughing, his eyebrows raised, “What?”

“I want to marry you now, I’m not kidding,” you said like you were offended.

“I know. Me too, bub.” he grinned at your pouting lips. Putting down the bread, he held your hand and planted a kiss on it, “Trust me, if I can marry you today, I would.”

Your lips were forming into a smile when– An idea forms in his head.

“We can,” you mumbled, making Jin confusedly look at you. “I mean not today. But we can get married this week. I don’t have anything to do this week since I’m supposedly busy next week. Plus, I have this dress coming from Vivienne Westwood for the premiere. I could wear that.”

“Well, Donny just got ordained online…” Jin whispered.

You two quietly eyed each other, both knowing something was cooking in your heads.

“Okay, how about you try to make this character your own? I’ll give you five minutes to internalize again.”

Having the urge to roll his eyes, Donny turned his back to the so-called actor someone probably miscast for this series he has been directing. He can feel a headache forming from how plain and bad this young actor says his lines. He sat back on his chair, cooling down. As soon as he opened his phone, he noticed a series of messages sent by his best friend almost an hour ago.

From Jin

are u free this wednesday

From Jin

won’t take no for an answer

From Jin

go here before 6

From Jin

wear something nice

From Jin

yn and i will be hosting an engagement dinner :))

“Hi, this is Hailey. I am calling for the bouquet…”

Pressing a powder on your face, you watched Hailey from the background of your mirror walking back and forth while talking to someone on her phone. The tan lines on her shoulders are still visible since she only got back from her vacation less than twelve hours ago. She even wore the same beach dress she wore in Hawaii days ago as she went straight to your house after you informed her about your plans.

“Do you even have anything? Flowers? Gown? Hair and make-up stuff? How about the venue? The guests?! All that thing!” she panicked through the call.

You pursed your lips, “It’s a very intimate, surprise wedding, Hailey. We just want to get married now and we prefer the smallest counts of guests possible. I’ll be wearing that Westwood dress–”

“Huh? It’s not coming until the day before the premiere night, YN.” she interrupted, sounding annoyed.

“What?” you asked, confused.

“That dress is coming from London and they said they’ll be sending it in December!” she almost screamed, confirming that she was, indeed, annoyed.

Hailey, at this point, is your eldest sister. She manages everything in your life and always wants the best thing for you. She is more than your assistant and occasional stylist, she is family. So you don’t really mind if she openly lets you know when she gets annoyed about something you’ve done. There were even times you were more scared of her than she ever was to you.

You tried to think of something, “Oh… Okay. I still have that white dress we bought years ago when we–”

“No! No! You’re not going to wear that. I’m contacting someone from Versace. I’m sure we can get you something.”

‘Don’t—”

“Yes, I’m not telling them where you would use it. I’ll think of other reasons.”

“It says that they were supposed to arrive thirty minutes ago.”

She looks like she was so close to biting her nails as she talked to the flower shop staff, all while you do your make-up. Still, in your comfiest pink robe with your gown underneath, you gently swiped your favorite shade of lip stain on your lips. Then, your make-up is done! You didn’t really put much effort, only doing a natural look rather than your common red carpet look. Hailey helped you earlier with creating soft curls for your hair.

And for your dress, you still ended up with a white one. Of course, Versace. Hours after Hailey contacted them for your “private dinner” event, they sent three options for you to choose from. You picked out the white, shimmery gown Amal Clooney wore one time. It is a bridal gown with spaghetti straps and a full, sweeping train. It is sparkly and perfect for the ambiance of your backyard, where you will be holding the wedding.

“No, I asked for–”

Hailey was cut off when someone knocked on your home office’s (made into a prep room for you) door. She was the one who opened the door as she was closer to the door.

“Oh, you arrived!” she said before you could see who she was talking to.

Then, a familiar man popped his head in. Your heart jumped, making you stand up even though you were careful with your gown.

“Dad!”

“Oh my god. How are you feeling?”

Jin wanted to say he was cool. But with his sweaty palms and racing heart, he knew he was more than cool. Just a little nervous and a lot more excited. Just a month ago, he was learning to cook the Marry Me chicken recipe and now, you two will be tying the knot in less than an hour. He can feel butterflies in his stomach just by thinking what you would look like. He hasn’t seen you after breakfast today. Hailey and Donny insist that it’s a tradition, something for fun. You were laughing as your assistant pulled you away from him while you were still kissing him. Since you two were in the same house, you have been kept in your office for hours now.

“You don’t have to answer that. Your smile says everything.” Donny interrupted his thoughts. ‘Thank you for making me a big part of this, man. I really appreciate it.”

Instead of their usual cool guy handshake, Jin and his best man (and friend and wedding officiator) shared a tight hug. He can feel how happy Donny is for him just by the short hug.

‘Thank you for flying from SoCal for this dinner.” Jin laughed.

‘I was so confused why you wanted me to dress so nicely for dinner!” Donny explained, laughing too.

It was in the middle of their laughter when they heard the doorbell ring. Knowing it’s probably one of the very few guests you two invited, Jin opened the door. He was right.

“Oh, aren’t you a fine groom?” your dad opened his arms as soon as Jin saw him. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

“Ah, you can call me Dad.” he corrects him.

Jin smiled wider before hugging your stepmother too. Your father and Helen, his wife came from Iowa since that was where he retired years ago before reuniting with you. It is no secret to everyone who knows you that you had a distant relationship with your dad, especially after the whole emancipation thing. But he reached out to you around the same time you and Jin worked for Cornelia Street. Since then, you and your dad have been catching up from time to time. That’s why Jin flew to your dad’s farmhouse in Iowa months ago to let him know about his plans to propose to you.

“You know, I didn’t expect this wedding to happen this soon.” Helen quipped as they entered. “Where’s the bride?”

“Oh, she’s in her office. I haven’t seen her since this morning,” he told them, almost sounding like a kid complaining.

“Stop whining. The wedding will start in like thirty minutes.” Donny said, making the older people laugh.

Then, they walked to the stairs up your office, leaving Jin and Donny alone again. The two decided to go to the backyard, where the fairy lights were lit up while there were white roses arranged in two lines on the sides of the small pathway for you later. The wooden chairs for the guests are the same chairs on the dining table inside the house but Hailey made sure to make it a little special with names, ribbons, and flowers on it. To ensure the privacy of your special day, you only have six guests in total: Hailey, Donny, your dad, Helen, Jin’s mom, stepdad, and dad. The latter three are still on their way. Considering his dad is in South Korea, Jin assured him that he understands if he cannot come with the sudden event. But his dad promised that he would come.

“Okay, just stand there.”

Minutes later, Hailey is instructing Jin where to stand. Donny is already next to him. Helen and Jin’s parents are already sitting in their seats. A good instrumental of love songs plays in the background with a Bluetooth speaker Hailey prepared. Jin cannot help but feel giddy. He knew you were already waiting for your best friend’s instructions to walk down this flowery aisle, along with your dad next to you.

“You look beautiful, honey.” your dad whispered next to you.”Exactly like your mother.”

That is the greatest compliment for you. Your mother was the most wonderful person in your head and to be compared to her always warms your heart. And to hear it from your father makes your lips quiver like a little kid.

You turned your head at him, smiling while feeling a burn of tears at the edge of your eyes, “Thank you, Dad.”

His lips were shaking like he was trying not to get too emotional. Instead, he offered you a smile and held your hand that was snaked on his arm.

“I’ll play the song and you will slowly walk out, okay? Just take your time.” Hailey comes in again.

You nodded, “Okay, ma’am.”

You see her shoulders tensing down as you say that. She chuckles.

“Now, can you just sit down? I want the world’s best assistant and my best friend to see me walking there,” you told her and her eyes instantly glistened.

“Okay.” she smiled after looking at you for a few more seconds.

You wanted to hug her but you knew you two would just bawl out your eyes and ruin the whole thing if you did. So without saying any other words, Hailey heads out. A few seconds later, you hear a familiar melody. So This Is Love from Cinderella. You and your dad took it as a signal to take a few steps together until you reached the backyard.

And there, he sees you. Finally.

Everything felt calm as you walk down the aisle. Instead of beating faster, his heart slows down and all he can see is you. Your eyes were all watery before you could even reach the middle of the aisle, where your father would leave you so can have your own moment. He placed a kiss on your cheek before letting you go. You looked back at Jin and a single tear had already slipped down his cheek. You don’t know but you smiled and chuckled as you walked closer, crying happy tears yourself. He chuckled too.

You are an angel in his eyes. As you stepped closer to him, he remembered the first night he saw you. Smiling, handing him a TicTac and telling him a story. He just remembered losing himself in your voice and beauty. Butterflies were playing around his stomach just like now. He hoped that it would not be the last time he saw you.

The song’s volume in the background lowered down as you stood in front of Jin. Everyone who is witness to this wonderful night can feel the love and adoration you two hold for each other.

Donny began, “We gather here today to celebrate the love of two wonderful human beings, YN and Jin. You have come to this beautiful place to witness the formal commitment they will make for each other, allowing YN and Jin to begin this new chapter of their life together with the people they truly trust, and love the most. Welcome and thank you for your presence here tonight. And please, no taking pictures– except you, Hailey, of course.’

Everyone laughed at his joke. Hailey, being the best person, also has a camera with her to take candid snaps.

“Now, as we all know, YN and Jin are a little bit in a rush to get married so I’ll keep this short.” you and Jin laughed as Donny continued, “As a longtime spectator of their amazing love story, all I can say is they are truly meant for one another. They are a perfect pairing as they balance each other so well. They work together perfectly not just in their great movies, but also in their relationship. And I believe, their effort and patience to make this relationship work in the middle of their busy lives is what leads us to this moment.”

“I always felt lucky to be friends with both of you two, being able to witness your story like no one else does. No amount of articles or movie scenes can ever encapsulate the passion you two have for each other. The way you care and protect each other amidst crazy rumors and hard times is truly powerful. Jin, you are the only one who can make YN smile throughout an exhausting day. And YN, you are the only one who can laugh at my best friend’s corny dad jokes.”

Jin glared at his best friend while everyone, including you, laughed. You broke his glare as you softly held his cheek to make him look back at you.

“With that, I wish for them to spend their lifetime as one. I wish for their marriage to be filled with moments of joy, contentment, and love. I hope that they continue to make each other laugh, smile, and believe in love as they make the whole world do.”

Jin squeezed your hand, making you smile even more.

“So, without further ado… YN, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forever?”

“I do,” you replied with no hesitation, looking deeply at your soon-to-be husband.

“Jin, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forever?”

His lips quirked, “I do.”

Donny smiled widely, “Now, please bring out the rings.”

Jin followed since he was the one who kept the rings you picked days ago, in which Donny picked up at the store on his way here.

“Please place the ring on each other’s left hand and repeat after me:” Donny said. “I, YN/JIN, take you above all else, to be my wife/husband, forevermore.”

You and Jin repeated everything not removing your gaze on one another. You felt the gold ring slip in one of your fingers after that. You have never felt joy pumps in your system.

“And now by the power vested in me by the internet, it is my honor and delight to declare you married. Go forth and live each day to the fullest. You may seal this declaration with a kiss.”

Donny and the guests clapped while standing up. Jin gently held both of your cheeks while he leaned closer to you. You closed your eyes as you felt his soft lips on yours. Fireworks set off inside you. You kissed him, feeling the soft skin of his cheeks on your fingertips, inhaling his calming scent. He kissed you back, running his hand back to your waist, squeezing it for a short second before pulling away. You two opened your eyes. You were the first one to speak,

“I’m so lucky to have you. I love you.”

He kissed you once again, “I love you too."

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS: CONFIDENTIAL TAGLIST

@xiumo @joonsbvtch @firesighgirl @qualityjoonie @txtlyn @yoontaethings

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21

#jin x reader #jin fluff #bts jin #jin fic #jin au #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin fluff #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts series #the a listers ksj #the a listers: universe lol

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maximumwobblerbanditdonut · 6 months

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I HAVE AN obsession with the color green. It’s a color of opposites. Green is life, growth, and health. It’s also sickness, greed, and envy. It’s good and bad at once. And it’s everywhere this afternoon as I sit down with actor, producer, author, and entrepreneur Sam Heughan — most recognized for his starring role in the Scotland-based time travel drama “Outlander.” His shirt bears a green tartan pattern, somewhere between jade and emerald. To my right, the glass bottle of his new gin is a transparent seafoam. Above my head is the leafy expanse of a tree, planted in the courtyard of New York’s Crosby Street Hotel. The gin we sip tastes green: grassy and alpine, fresh as menthol and bright as a sour apple. Most vividly is the green in my mind’s eye: the wet, rich, misty green of Scotland, a place Heughan speaks of with rapture.

Missing home is what drove Heughan to launch his spirits brand Sassenach, after the Scottish Gaelic word for an English person, or rather, an “outsider.” “When I was in London away from home, a jobbing actor, missing Scotland, I remember my first time trying a single malt whisky and I had such an emotional reaction,” he recalls from across the table, his bright blue eyes wide. “It reminded me of Scotland.”

I remark on the gin’s legs, thick and viscous, streaking the sides of my glass. Heughan nods, “I increased the strength. It just gives it a bit more weight. I love a bit of weight on my tongue.” Toasted oats give a creamy feel to the cornucopia of flavors present in the liquid: pine resin, heather, blackberry leaf, blaeberry — and, again, that sour green apple. “There’s no citrus in Scotland. That’s why I chose apples,” Heughan explains. “I remember as a kid, picking them and throwing them at people, eating them, then being really ill because they’re so sour.”

Heughan’s family — his mother, brother, and uncle — still live in Scotland. His uncle used to have a ceilidh band. “[Ceilidh is] a traditional Scottish dance,” he explains. “It’s madness. Everyone’s drinking whisky and the dancers get faster and faster and there are lots of spinning people around.” Heughan listens to a lot of Scottish music. He later sends me a song called “Blackbird” by Martyn Bennett, known for mixing dance tracks with traditional Celtic music. I tear up at its aching slants. “It makes me homesick for a home that’s not mine,” I message him. “That’s Scotland,” he writes back. “It does that to people.”

Sam Heughan Is in Good Spirits Image Float

Heughan was raised by a single mother in the south of Scotland — the rural stretches of Dumfries and Galloway. “Spent a lot of time on my own pretending I was a knight or Robert the Bruce.” The land’s botanicals now flavor his gin. Courtesy of Sam Heughan.

“It’s one foot in the present, one in the past,” muses Heughan about his country, adding a splash of tonic to my gin, whose flavor now reveals a pleasant salinity. “The castles. So many great battles. You

can feel the history. I think that’s what makes it so magical.” This history is inextricably linked to ritual, observed in Scotland to this day. Take Beltane, a pagan ritual beginning serendipitously on Heughan’s birthday, April 30. “You’re supposed to stay up all night and wash your face in the fresh dew when the sun rises, then go to bed and dream of your future spouse,” he describes. “It’s all about rebirth and nature.”

We talk about other parts of the world that have shaped him, as I remark on his fusion accent: a bit Scottish for sure, but mixed with something else, sort of American and British, too. America’s opportunity and diversity captivate Heughan. He came here for the first time at 18, hostel hopping in San Francisco. “I remember looking at the Golden Gate Bridge for hours, playing my cassette of ‘(Sittin’ On) the Dock of the Bay’ by Otis Redding over and over. I was living on $5 burritos — one a day. It’s all I could afford.” He speaks of Hawaii with reverence — the local culture’s connection to wildlife and the sea. He spent time with a fisherman and his family there who taught him the Indigenous way to fish: “Gut it straight away. Take out the heart, say a prayer, and throw it back into the ocean immediately to allow the soul of the fish to live on.” New Zealand also moves him. He was there recently and learned about tā moku, the art of Māori tattooing. “You sit with an artist and tell him your story. He chooses where it goes on your body and makes it there and then. He stuck [the initial sketch] on my left forearm here, and it was all about my mom and my brother and the absence of my father.” He wants to return to New Zealand and get the tattoo next time.

My gin has opened up even more, spreading out into softer, aromatic florals as Heughan uncorks a bottle of his whisky. “People have called you a global heartthrob.” I begin, “Is that a role you’re —”

“Who has?” His eyes grow bigger in feigned shock. (Fun fact: the Sam Heughan fanbase even has their own name — “Heughligans.”)

“Someone I talked to in the subway.”

“Right, right,” he nods gravely, pouring new glasses.

“Do you,” I continue, taking a sip, “feel comfortable in that role?” The whisky tastes like a spicy Werther’s caramel.

“My character is what some people aspire to, and I understand why. He’s this incredible human being who’s just so in love with his wife and does the most romantic things. Selfless. People then think you might be that person. I’m certainly not. But it’s something to aspire to.”

“Are you comfortable,” I press, “being an object of desire?” Heughan shares that in earlier years, he was treated in a way that would no longer be tolerated. “I’d be asked, ‘What’s under your kilt?’ or ‘How do you get your abs?’ I wish I did have abs! We were just in a different industry. I don’t have resentment or a grudge. But I would like to be seen for the work that I do, rather than my looks.”

While he’s still based in Scotland, Heughan also has a house in LA, a city he’s not exactly sold on. He toys with the idea of New York as his next home base. He loves it here. “The cocktail bars. Cycling along the West Side. SoHo. The river. Getting a ferry. I’m so into ferries! I’ll go to Staten Island, then come back again. We got a helicopter the other day back from the Hamptons — I don’t like helicopters. They’re not meant to fly. However, seeing the Statue of Liberty from there, it’s so good. New York could be my city.”

I show Heughan around some local spots that evening. We sit at the bar of Superbueno for mezcal drinks and tacos. The music gets louder and so do the crowds. Mouth full of al pastor, I semi-shout a question in Heughan’s direction, asking if he ever gets overstimulated. “No, not really,” he replies simply, between chewing. At 6 feet, 3 inches, Heughan towers over seemingly everyone. Maybe it’s calmer up there. There’s an overall good-natured quality to him; it’s soothing to be around.

We head to another bar, Mr. Fongs. The air is thick with the smell of trash and rats dart to and fro. A subway thunders overhead as we walk below a bridge in Chinatown. “This is awesome,” Heughan murmurs. We order the bar’s specialty: salty plum old-fashioneds. “I want a place where the second I walk out my door, I’m right in the center of all of it,” he says decidedly, whistling a little at the (notoriously strong) drink. “Right in the middle.”

Heughan is noticeably unadorned. I suggest some rings and an ear piercing for his New York era. A candle light flickers against his cheek, evoking another world — someplace old and rural and rugged. At this moment, I see his character, a fantasy projection of the leading man. But really, we’re just in Chinatown, weighing the pros and cons of earrings on men. “Sadly I don’t think I’m quite cool enough,” he sighs, “to pull that off.” ▪️

Our Contributors

Sophie Mancini Writer

Sophie Mancini is an editor at Departures. Born and raised in New York City, she holds a degree in creative writing from Johns Hopkins University and has a background as a writer in brand and editorial.

Diana Markosian Photographer

Diana Markosian (born in Moscow, 1989) is a Russian-American photographer of Armenian descent. Her work explores memory and place through a layered, interdisciplinary process that uses photography and video. Her photographs have been published in National Geographic, the New Yorker, and the New York Times.

Robert Ormerod Photographer

Robert Ormerod is a photographer interested in telling stories. He is based in Scotland, working across the U.K. for titles such as National Geographic, The Guardian Saturday magazine, The New York Times, T Magazine, The Wall Street Journal, and Bloomberg Businessweek.

Tom Craig Photographer

Tom Craig is a photographer and director whose work has been featured in Vogue, i-D, and Vanity Fair. His work is driven by a desire to tell stories and the urge to travel. His work often blurs the line between fashion photography and straightforward reportage.

**Full article from @departures www.departures.com

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