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azucanela · 4 years

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Hi! i’d like to request a Zuko x Reader oneshot please and it takes place a few years after he’s crowned as the Fire Lord: Zuko is entering suitable age for marriage and yet he has no one that he likes enough to take as his queen, what if Uncle Iroh hired the reader whom is a famous matchmaker that usually arranges the courting & marriage between nobles, but instead of all these ladies that she threw at him he ended up falling for her instead but he’s just so awkward and inexperienced Thank u

INAMORATA | ZUKO X READER

SUMMARY: after a few years of being Fire Lord, Zuko still hasn’t found a companion. so naturally, when Iroh comes upon a matchmaker, he does what he does best and helps Zuko out by hiring her to help him find someone. and inadvertently... iroh ends up playing matchmaker himself.

WORD COUNT: 12.6k

WARNINGS: mentions of death, death threats, kissing, pining, very mild innuendos, blood, injuries, crying

A/N: this is literally art omg i feel kinda honored to be seeing this ngl and i ended up researching matchmaking and they’re basically therapists that help you find love?? kinda. the profile thing is something that some matchmakers do and idk i have fun analyzing zuko so

in·am·o·ra·ta/iˌnaməˈrädə/

noun

a woman with whom one is in love or has intimate relations.

ATTEMPT ZERO

After years of being the Fire Lord, Zuko had come to realize the job was pretty basic if you thought about it long enough. There were just a few major things to deal with. First, there’s the internal relations, like the civil wars and uprising he deal with at the start of his reign because people disliked his ways. Then there’s the external relations, Zuko worked alongside Aang to repair those, helping the Southern Water Tribe rebuild itself from the ground up, and hosting meetings between the nations, friendly and work related. Those are the more diplomatic aspects of the job, and sadly, even as a ruler who sought to end a war, there was still violence in the world.

When Aang and the rest of Team Avatar ended the One Hundred Year War, that only exposed a variety of other problems within the world, problems that the team seeked to end. There were people out there who disliked this line of thinking, and similarly wanted it to end, but ending the lives of Team Avatar.

Zuko was used to the death threats, and the assassination attempts. He’d had a security detail in place to ensure he lived to rule his nation, this was especially necessary since he lacked an heir and the only other people eligible for the throne were an old man who ran a tea shop and a psychopathic teenage girl in a mental institution. This is where the social aspect of the job came in, the part that Zuko had never been good at. The Galas and the girls who threw themselves at him, the nobility of all nations that approached him offering their children’s hand in marriage. Zuko was an enigma, a young and powerful bachelor, and now all the nobles with children were lining up for a minute alone with him to try and sell their own kids.

It disgusted him. The way they treated their children like cattle reminded Zuko of his own father, how willing he was to get rid of Zuko since he had a replacement on standby. Though, Zuko sincerely doubted he ever would’ve gotten the throne if Ozai had a choice, even if he hadn’t been banished.

Alas, even Zuko could recognize the urgency of it, the death threats weren’t letting up, and the assassination attempts were only getting more and more elaborate, leaving Zuko wondering when they’d no longer be attempts. He needed and heir, or at least a wife who could rule alongside him and take over entirely in the event of his death.

The problem was, he didn’t want this.

He was in a unique position, where the person he married would have an immense effect on society, on politics. If it was an Earth Kingdom girl, then maybe the years of violence against their people could be mended sooner, and they could begin working together to combat a variety of issues. If he ends up with a Fire Nation girl, it could be viewed as strengthening the traditional ideals of Fire Nation independence and sovereignty because the Fire Nation is “supreme.”

Dating was political now and he hated it. It wasn’t like Zuko wanted to be alone, it’s just that now everything mattered far more than it used to. Of course, even as a prince it had been the same, but now that he was the Fire Lord, things seemed to be ten times worse. Perhaps it was excessive but Zuko couldn’t help but feel paranoid whenever a new person entered his life, he couldn’t help but assume that they were just using him for some other agenda.

Of course, his friends had tried to assure him this wasn’t always the case, and they’d even made attempts to set him up with girls. All of which had failed. Zuko knew he wasn’t an easy person, much less an easy person to date. As Fire Lord, a lot of his time was taken up by meetings, and diplomatic missions, and not-so-diplomatic missions alongside Team Avatar. That and he was rather awkward when it came down to most social interactions, though he’d improved over time, especially as the ruler of a nation, his speeches were elegant and so was the way he negotiated with other kingdoms.

And yet he struggled to talk to strangers.

Iroh seemed to be tired of this as well, he’d sent Zuko several letters in regards to his lack of romance, insisting that he was a “handsome young man” that had “lots of potential” and he was “wasting” his prime with so much work. Zuko didn’t consider managing a country as a waste, though he understood where Iroh was coming from, Zuko probably should’ve been spending time with friends, going to clubs. Not saving the world.

Regardless, there wasn’t much he could do about, he didn’t have time for dating, and Zuko wasn’t willing to compromise his morals and beliefs just for an heir in the event that he got brutally murdered. He refused to raise a child just for that purpose. He learnt the hard way that you should only have kids if you intend to cherish them. And the idea of marrying someone just to strengthen his nation felt wrong, though he could see the benefits.

God, he hated being Fire Lord sometimes.

On the other hand, Y/N L/N liked her job. Amongst the nobility of the Earth Kingdom, she was a rather famous woman, Y/N had brought together some of the most powerful couples in the country. A lot of people owed her favors, and the money that came with the job was more than satisfactory. If Y/N had to guess, she was one of the richest people in the kingdom, considering how much people were willing to pay to fine “the one.” Her business had been rather successful since she’d gotten renowned in the inner ring of the city, and now, Y/N was considering expansion, to the Fire Nation. The borders had long since reopened, when the new Fire Lord came into power.

A whole new set of nobles for her to profit from.

She’d decided to head to a high end tea shop in celebration of her choice to expand her business. Y/N had heard it was only for the best, since the tea shop served the best. One of her clients had insisted that someone of her esteem try the tea there, given that she was the best in her own profession.

So, here she was. It was a nice place, she wouldn’t deny, and Y/N had heard of the shop before. The Jasmine Dragon, run by some old guy who’d appeared in Ba Sing Se just before the war ended with some major talent when it came to brewing tea. The interior was fancy, but not excessive, several people were already seated within. Y/N even recognized one of the couples there, who waved at her enthusiastically, “hello! Lady L/N, how lovely to see you!” One of them called out.

Y/N smiled at them, “how are you two?”

The other beamed at her as she responded, “oh we’re just lovely! Preparing our wedding invitations and one of them has your name on it.” This wasn’t abnormal, most of the couples she’d brought together attributed their love to her. In actuality, Y/N found that if you found two people with compatible personalities, then they’d work things out on their own. All she did was introduce them.

“I’m excited!” Y/N assured, moving past their table, “now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to try this famous tea. But, I’m looking forward to the invite.”

The pair nodded, before returning their attention the friends seated across from them, and Y/N made her way to the front of the shop, bag of coins in hand. An older man stood behind the counter, a smile on his face as he brought his attention to her, “what can I get you today Miss...”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.” She replied, small smile on her face as she looked at the menu, “what’s your name?” Y/N asked, meeting his eyes to see the flicker of recognition within them before returning her gaze to the menu.

He nods slowly, “I’m Iroh, and you’re a matchmaker, no?” He’d recognized the name, her business had begun gaining traction amongst the nobility of the Earth Kingdom shortly after the war, and she was one of the most sought after matchmakers in the nation. Iroh himself had looked into her business, seeing as his nephew was yet to find love in his chaotic lifetstyle.

Y/N smiled at him as she nodded, “indeed.” She placed the menu down, “any suggestions?”

“Perhaps, Jasmine tea?” He suggested.

Y/N nodded, “sounds good.” She places extends a hand with coins, dropping them into his palm, “so are you looking for love?” Though she was certainly famous for her skills, Y/N tended to work behind the scenes, and she was surprised to find this man recognized her.

A small laughed escaped him at her words as he shook his head, “no. I believe it is a little too late for that.” He was working on her tea beyond the counter, and Y/N began to wonder how he was steaming the tea pot when she noticed there was no stove beside him.

“Don’t say that! You seem like a fine man that anyone woman would want.” Y/N assured, though she now wondered why exactly this man knew who she was in the first place. It was rare for those outside of nobility to know who she was.

Turning around, his hand pressed to the pot that Y/N was positive had to have been burning his hand in some way, “oh, you’re too kind.” He replies, a small smile on his face as he poured a bit into a cup, “I was looking to help my nephew find love actually.”

“Really, now?” Firebending, that was the only explanation for the way this man was handling the tea. “I was looking to expand my business to the Fire Nation, perhaps I could help him out.” He didn’t hold himself the way most Earth Kingdom citizens did, and coupled with the possible Firebending, he was likely from the Fire Nation.

Iroh raises a brow at this, “what gave me away?” He stirs the tea a few times, before placing it on the counter for her to take.

Y/N shrugs, “it’s my job to know people well enough that I can find them a match.” Taking a sip of her tea, she smiles, “so this nephew of yours. He wouldn’t happen to nobility, would he?”

He laughs at this, pouring himself a cup of tea as well as he sighs, “actually, he is nobility. In a way.”

Now Y/N did not expect the nobility Iroh spoke of the be the nobility. As in the Fire Lord, the actual ruler of the entire nation, though this would certainly be great for business. Once the world hears of how Y/N found the Fire Lord, someone who had been notably difficult to woo apparently, a match, her business will be set.

“Isn’t this exciting, guys?” Y/N exclaimed, looking to her assistants, they were both on the younger side, Marcella and Evelyn. She’d brought them along since this would definitely be a valuable learning experience, and Y/N figured she’d need a lot of help if the Fire Lord was as difficult as they made him out to be. That and Y/N didn’t want to leave them alone in the Earth Kingdom, both of them had been orphaned at a young age. Y/N couldn’t help but relate to them, so when she’d come upon her newfound wealth, brought about by her job as a matchmaker, she’d taken the pair under her wing.

With a bag thrown over her shoulder, Evelyn simply nodded while Marcella exclaimed, “yes! I’ve always wanted to see the Fire Nation. Do you think we could find a client in one of the Water Tribes next?”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the young girl’s excitement, “if this goes well? We’ll be able to find clients anywhere.” She wasn’t wrong, Y/N had never had the opportunity to work with the actual Earth King, the true ruler of the nation. Now she was working with the ruler of a nation she’d never stepped foot in, entirely new customs and traditions to research, a new social structure, new everything.

What a fun challenge.

With a smile on her face, Y/N followed closely behind Iroh, the palace was stunning, she couldn’t deny it. And compared to the crumbling infrastructure of the lower rings of cities like Ba Sing Se, Fire Nation cities were prospering Fire Lord Zuko’s rule. From what she’d heard, things weren’t always this way.

“Y/N and I are going to wait here,” he gestured to the open space before them, dozens of paintings within it, “these two will take you to your rooms.” He explained to the pair of young girls, nodding to the servants beside them, who began to guide the young girls away.

Y/N’s eyes found their way to the paintings, the newest one being of the current Fire Lord, Zuko himself. She wondered how accurate the painting was, and seeing as she would be meeting him soon, Y/N figured she’d find out as she sighed, turning to Iroh, “so how does the original heir to the throne become the owner of an infamous tea shop?”

Iroh smiles to himself at her words, “age brings wisdom. And tea is a nice substitute for alcohol.” He jokes, though Y/N can see the pain in his eyes, along with admiration as he stares at Zuko’s portrait alongside her.

“Uncle!” A voice exclaimed, joy clear in his voice as he called out. Y/N watched as Iroh spun around, a broad smile on his face as he moved forwards to embrace the person.

He looked better in person, Y/N quickly decided, though the portrait did its job just as well. She wouldn’t deny he was attractive, but she already knew looks weren’t the issue. Iroh had informed her of the situation, Zuko’s constant rejection of any and every single person that approached him, and the stress he experienced because of the politics of it all.

“Nephew, it is good to see you,” Iroh said, releasing him from the hug, “how are you?” Initially he seemed fairly comfortable at the sight of just his Uncle, but as the Fire Lord’s body seemed to stiffen, Y/N realized she’d been spotted.

So, he wasn’t comfortable with strangers, “I’m alright Uncle... who is this?” He asked. There was an edge to his voice as he spoke, sizing Y/N up, not in the way you did for someone you were attracted to, but for an enemy.

Uncomfortable with new people, clear trust issues, and his mind was always alert. She’d have to write these things down and take them into consideration prior to finding him a potential partner. Though it was starting to look like he was completely unaware of her purpose there as she extended her hand out to him, “Y/N L/N. Professional matchmaker.” She explained with a bright smile, though, based off his personality, that would likely ward him off more.

He was polite though, shaking her hand despite his clear suspicions of her, “Zuko.” Y/N couldn’t help but raise a brow at this, he hadn’t mentioned his title in his introduction. Zuko turned to his Uncle, brows furrowing as he said, “you hired a professional matchmaker?”

With a shrug Iroh responded, “we met by chance! So, it must be destiny.”

Zuko gives him a tight lipped smile, nodding slowly before returning his attention to Y/N who stood away from the pair, examining the decor of the palace. It was minimalistic, truly basic if she was honest, despite the clear amount of riches they possessed, it lacked evidence of them. Bringing her eyes back to him, he spoke, “you don’t need to be here. You can receive your pay, but I personally see no purpose for a matchmaker.”

Iroh frowned at his words, “Zuko, you need to give it a chance! Unlike all those ladies who keep throwing themselves at you. Besides, she seems rather good at her job.” His gaze was on his nephew as he sighed, giving Y/N an apologetic look that she simply waved off.

“Oh, it’s fine. It just won’t be for long.” Zuko raised a brow at her words, and Y/N watched his feet shifted, “no need to prepare for a fight, your majesty.” She hummed, rolling her neck, in the corner of her eye she could see shock flash in his own. “You see, as a matchmaker I do several things, including developing a little... profile of my clients. Now we just met but I can already tell you a variety of things about you that’s making your love life rather trivial.” Even before she had to develop the profiles professionally, in the lower rings of Ba Sing Se, being capable of reading others was a necessary skill.

Zuko’s eyes narrowed at her, “and what have you determined, in the very short time we’ve known each other.”

A small laugh escaped her as she extended her arms and cracked her knuckles, “well. You have major trust issues, which is why you are desperately trying to keep me at arms length. That’s one reason why you have yet to find someone.” Turning her attention to the decor of the large room, Y/N closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Given the lack of interior design, I would say you’re struggling with social aspects of your job, and you need a partner. One that I can help you find.”

“See! I told you she’s good at what she does.” Iroh exclaimed, moving forward to clap a hand onto Y/N’s shoulder, much to Zuko’s dismay.

Y/N gave the older man a small smile before looking back to Zuko, who eyed her wearily, “you keep avoiding the portrait of your father. But you can’t bring yourself to take it down.” She said, and Y/N could practically feel the tension building with each word. “He’s one of the reasons you’ve yet to find a lover-”

“Because he gave me the scar?”

Y/N paused, brows furrowing at his words, her eyes found his, “I’m sorry, was that a joke?” She asked, and Iroh stared between the two, amused. “You’re actually rather attractive, which is why I know this is a personality thing. Probably tired of the whole fancy court thing they have going on here, which I’m going to need to research...” Y/N pursed her lips, failing to notice the clear shock on Zuko’s face at her comment, and red flushing his cheeks. Waving off her thoughts, she looked back to him, “anyways. My assistants should’ve already cleared out about an hour in your schedule each day for our sessions. I’m going to be asking you some very personal questions. So, be ready!”

And with that, Y/N waved to the two, bowing rather questionably shortly after, before heading off in the direction she’d seen Marcella and Evelyn go in. Effectively leaving behind a baffled Zuko, and a rather satisfied Iroh, who began to laugh at Zuko’s reaction. “I really like her, quite the character she has.”

“Yeah, quite the character.” He brought a hand to his temple, “is this really necessary, Uncle?”

Iroh simply sighed, looking to his nephew, “whether you want to admit it or not, she was right. Ruling a nation is difficult, and ruling it alone is even harder.” A small huff of laughter escaped Iroh, “and she figured that out by your lack of interior design!”

Exhaling deeply, Zuko reminded himself that this was all part of the job, the job that consumed his entire life. The life that this girl had analyzed in a matter of moments.

Yeah, he wasn’t looking forward to their meetings.

Though his morals and his disagreement with practically selling your own child were a major factor in his lack of a love life. There was also the simple fact that there was no love in many of the interactions he had with potential suitors, much less genuine interest. They all wanted the power he could give them should they get married.

There was also the fact that Zuko had very little relationship experience, a fact he was trying to ignore. At the end of the day, he couldn’t bring himself to approach anyone, and if he did, he wouldn’t know what to do. Zuko also doubted that people would act... genuine around him, especially if they knew who he was. And all he really wanted was something real, considering his entire day was surrounded by fake smiles that belonged to both him and others.

It seemed that Y/N wasn’t prepared to ignore this piece of information though, since the following morning she’d seated him down and begun to speak of it, “so. You’ve been in two relationships.”

His brows furrowed, “one actually.” He and Mai had broken up about six months into his work as Fire Lord, “Mai.”

Raising a brow at him, she leaned back in the seat. Zuko couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to decorate the place in such a short period of time, as he could’ve sworn there hadn’t been a desk here the previous day. Then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d toured his own palace. “Well, I’ve heard rumors of you and a Southern Water Tribe member, but I’m not sure which one so I just-”

“Okay! That’s enough.” His cheeks were flushed red as he looked away.

Y/N grinned at him, leaning forwards, “then let’s discuss Mai. You two were pretty on and off, right?”

Zuko grimaced at the thought, they were. He wouldn’t deny that he’d gone back to her a few times during his time as Fire Lord, “yeah.”

Y/N began to write into her notebook, “tell me about her.”

“I don’t see why that’s important.” Came his response, looking at her quizzically as he frowned.

Tilting her head at him, Y/N gave Zuko a look, “come on. Let me do my job, I need to know about her to gauge what types of personalities you like while also determining why the two of you broke it off entirely.” She placed the book down, and Zuko could very clearly see the words ‘commitment issues’ underlined. “The goal isn’t just to find you a suitable wife that can help you rule, but someone you can be happy with.”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes on Y/N, her words seem honest. And this was her job, “she was blunt. Honest. Kind of mean at times, but she could be sweet as well. Pretty stoic, expressing her emotions was always... difficult for her.”

Y/N nodded slowly, scribbling a few more things down, “okay. And what’s your favorite color?”

“What type of question is that?” Zuko asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

Crossing her arms, Y/N shrugged, “well. Favorite colors can tell you a lot about a person.” Came her response, “mine is green. Maybe that’s because I associate green with the Earth Kingdom, where I lived. Or maybe it’s because I happen to like nature quite a bit.” Looking around, Zuko could see that she’d already gotten a variety of plants native to the Fire Nation, most were succulents due to the almost year round heat.

At the mention of colors, his mind immediately went back to his first experience with the dragons, when their fire encircled him and Aang. “I.. don’t know how to describe the color- colors?” Zuko’s brows drew together in thought, and Y/N looked at him.

“How would I not understand a color?” The confusion is clear in her voice as she looks at him. Y/N can practically see the nostalgia in his eyes as he looks to the balcony.

Sighing, Zuko shifted in his seat, “these dragons I met ended up making a circle of fire around me and there were just... so many colors. But together it was just,” he paused, searching for the right word, “beautiful.”

Y/N’s mouth gaped open for a moment, “you met dragons?” She exclaimed, nearly throwing her notebook aside. Y/N had never seen such creatures, in fact, the general consensus was that they were still extinct

Zuko seemed to forget about this fact as he straightened himself, eyes meeting hers, “you can’t tell anyone about them!” He exclaimed, “they were hunted to extinction, though I intend to outlaw such things it’s just...”

She nodded in understanding, “people break laws.” Y/N leaned back into her seat once more, “you owe me a dragon story.” She said, before crossing her legs in her seat and continuing, “favorite food?”

“Well, Aang took me to Avatar Day, and they had these weird Avatar shaped dough things.” He explained, recalling the time he’d gone with Aang and the others. Apparently they used to burn his statue, but now they worship him for some reason.

Y/N brought a hand under her chin, “I have no idea what that is.” She began to scribble something down on her notepad, “but okay.”

“What about you?”

Y/N hummed in response, “what do you mean?”

Zuko felt his cheeks warm, “this just feels like an interview.”

“Probably because it is an interview.” Y/N said, gesturing for him to elaborate.

Looking away, Zuko frowned, “it’s weird.” Sighing, he spoke once more, “so, what’s your favorite food?”

Y/N was silent for a moment, staring at Zuko, who was trying his hardest to avoid her gaze. This was a rare occurrence, seeing as most nobles were rather self-centered and liked talking about themselves. She’d never had a client who felt uncomfortable with this portion because it was basically a one-sided conversation. “Jennamite is a good rock candy.”

Zuko turns back to her, a small laugh escaping him, “my friends were nearly killed in Jennamite by the King of Omashu once.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

ATTEMPT ONE

Y/N wouldn’t deny how odd it was, to be sharing as much information as she was learning about Zuko. She’d never really considered just how personal some of the questions were until she found herself answering them. But, after about a month, she had assembled a pretty good array of potential suitors for Zuko. Along with a few of her own clients, Y/N had found some girls that from the Fire Nation that seemed pretty acceptable.

That’s what she had thought at least.

“What do you mean, you already rejected her?”

Turns out, Zuko had met half the women, and rejected them. The other half were either from the Earth Kingdom, or yet to attend one of few Galas that Zuko hosted. Seeing as he handed off most of that work to his advisors, it was rare for him to remain at Galas for an extended period of time.

He grimaced at Y/N’s words nonetheless, his Uncle had informed her of his situation, but clearly not the extent of it. “She was more interested in her guard than me. It was a power grab her parents likely forced her into.” He remembered the girl, she’d been kind to him, but she clearly didn’t want him as much as her parents did.

His words brought about a new level of understanding for Y/N, who nodded slowly, of course it was the parents that Zuko had a problem with. It wasn’t uncommon for nobles to practically throw their children at potential suitors as though they’re a bag of coins. It was something that disgusted her as well, her job found people companions that they liked while these people simply wished for an addition to their power.

Zuko was the ultimate power grab. Y/N could only imagine how many times this had happened to him, random people he’d never met approaching him, offering their child’s hand in marriage.

Bringing a hand to her temple, Y/N sighed, “but the rest are fine?”

He nodded slowly, flipping through the pages he had yet to remove, Zuko skimmed what Y/N had written. Taking note of her handwriting, he wondered if she’d written his profile like this. “Yeah...” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, and Zuko sighed, removing a few more pages from the binder she’d presented him with.

Exhaling deeply, Y/N brought a hand to Zuko’s shoulder, “be honest with me. I’m not gonna yell at you for removing them Zuko, this is for you.”

Sometimes he forgot it was her job to be nice to him.

“Right.” He mumbled, trying to shake off the feeling he got as she removed her hand. “That’s still... a lot of people. Some of which aren’t even in this nation.” Zuko pointed out, a queasy feeling within him as he looked at her.

Y/N plopped down onto the couch in the common room they’d met in, sprawling her body across it, “you’re right, there is a lot. But,” She twisted her body so that she could see him, wiggling her brows suggestively, “it’s been a while since you hosted a Gala.”

Zuko’s face dropped at her words, in his years of being Fire Lord, he’d had about three total, and hated every single one. But given how rare the Galas were, people got pretty excited when he threw them. “I hate planning those, it’s a waste of time and-”

A small smile was on her face as she interrupted him, “and you suck at planning them? I can tell by the decor of your palace.” Glaring at her, Zuko watched as she shifted so that her head hung off the couch upside down, “well. This will be the best Gala yet, you’ll impress all the ladies that you can’t meet in the immediate future in about...” Y/N looked to the watch on her wrist, brows furrowing, “eight months. And I’ll help you plan it, since you desperately need help-”

“Alright, I get it, I’m horrible.” He grumbled, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his seat across from her after placing the binder on the coffee table between them. “Eight months isn’t a lot of time,” traditionally, Gala’s took at least a year’s worth of planning and preparation, especially since Zuko was so busy he barely had the time to assist in the process. Eight months was no where near enough.

Y/N was still frowning at his words, “no self-deprecation.” She ordered, taking Zuko by surprise, before continuing, “regardless. I’ve planned Gala in less time with less resources. It’ll be fine.” Pursing her lips Y/N sighed, “now we need to discuss your inability to talk to people in general due to your immense trust issues and constant battle field mentality.”

Zuko’s mouth gaped open at her words, “excuse me?”

Bringing her hands to rest on her stomach as she laid upside down, Y/N spoke, “when we first met you looked like you contemplated attacking me. And when you met Marcella and Evelyn, I’ve never seen someone so awkward.” Zuko is silent and looks away, only proving her point as Y/N continued, “so we need to practice your people skills, and flirting for future reference, seeing as your first date is in about a week-”

Almost immediately, Zuko straightened his posture, sitting up and looking to her as though she’d thrown a bucket of ice cold water onto him. “A week?” He winced at the way his voice cracked.

“Yeah, I spoke with one of the girls, not her parents, and asked her to meet with you later in the week.” Y/N explained, “her name is Elara, she’s in there.”

Frowning, Zuko reached for the binder and began to flip through the pages, “how’d you know I wasn’t going to get rid of her page?” Only to find the girl’s page, details on her personality, skills, hobbies and more on them.

A smirk spread across Y/N’s face, “she was one of few I was sure you’d keep.” With a sigh, Zuko looked back to Y/N, who still sat upside down, “now. You need to practice your romance skills, so come on.” She twisted her body, her legs falling to the side of the couch, and then moving onto the floor, Y/N stood. As the blood rushed to her head, a wave of dizziness came over her, and Y/N found herself stumbling slightly.

A hand came to her back and forearm, steadying her, “you need to practice walking.” Zuko laughed slightly, a nervous edge in his voice as he eyed her.

Y/N brought a hand to her head as she laughed as well, “oh my...” Y/N blinked several times as the wave of dizziness passed, her hand gripping Zuko’s arm as she grounded herself. Looking up to him, she quickly realized how close they were and cleared her throat, releasing his arm.

He followed suit, removing his hands from her, “sorry-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Zuko.”

The look her gives her almost hurts. Because Y/N can see the shock within his eyes as he nods slowly in response. She wonders what he’s thinking of as he she gives him a tight lipped smile, clapping her hands together as she turns back to him, “practice.” She repeated, mostly for herself.

And maybe offering to be the person he practiced on was her first mistake.

ATTEMPT FIVE

Y/N had learnt a lot about Zuko in the past four dates he’d been on. One of these things being the fact that Zuko was a wild card when it came to dates, and they seemed to either go very well with the girls contacting Y/N to let her know they wished for a second date, only for Zuko to reject the possibility. Or, they went very bad. And Zuko returned with some sort of drink splattered onto his clothing.

So, Y/N decided that the best course of action was to discover what exactly Zuko wasn’t mentioning, and to follow him with a disguise. Evelyn had suggested it, Iroh supported the idea full-heartedly, though Marcella had believed it would be a huge invasion of privacy, Y/N didn’t really care, seeing as it was her job to be involved in Zuko’s love life. She was getting paid to ensure he found love.

And she was curious.

That’s how Y/N ended up dressed in some very suspicious Fire Nation clothing alongside her assistants and the apparent Dragon of the West, famous tea shop owner, and member of the royal family.

What a wonderful assortment of people.

Marcella and Evelyn had separated from Iroh and Y/N, sitting in another booth across from them, it was a feeble attempt to keep them from sticking out. The girl had chosen a rather upscale restaurant, so dressing appropriately while also maintaining a look that prevented Zuko from recognizing them.

Y/N pulled her hat further down on her face as she looked to Iroh, who was browsing the menu. She wouldn’t be shocked if he entered the kitchen just to make himself a ‘decent’ cup of tea. He’d been rather helpful during the whole process, anything she didn’t find out from Zuko, Y/N had learnt from Iroh. “See anything you like, Iroh?”

He smiled at her, nodding slowly, “I think I’ll just take some tea.”

Looking to Marcella and Evelyn, Y/N smiles, the two are speaking with one another like they aren’t supposed to be spying on the Fire Lord. But Y/N doesn’t mind, this was more of a recreational activity anyways, and she was glad they were having fun. Since they’d gotten to the Fire Nation two months ago there had been an... adjustment period to put it simply.

Y/N nodded at Iroh’s statement, and her eyes fell back onto Zuko and his newest date, Amaya, she was a simple girl. She’d possessed organizational skills that Zuko lacked, planned dozens of events, had the expressive qualities that Zuko yearned for in a partner. Amaya was one of few that Y/N was sure Zuko would take a liking to. Especially since she also had training in a variety of fighting styles, and was quite the Firebender. She’d been a little skeptical when she first contacted Amaya, the girl seemed hesitant, but she agreed.

And from the looks of it, he had. The pair was laughing along with each other, but Y/N could see the way Zuko stiffened at any physical contact, in general he’d yet to relax. If Y/N was honest, it was basically like any first date, awkward.

Zuko didn’t really know how to feel about Amaya, she was what he should be looking for in a girl, everything he needed if he was honest. She had an interest in the art, something Zuko had never taken to and the main reason his palace looked, ‘dull’ as Y/N had put it. And she was expressive, the main issue he’d had with Mai was her lack of expression. But, for some reason, Zuko just couldn’t see her as anything more than a good friend. There was something... off about her.

“When that Earth Kingdom girl approached me, I was skeptical.” Amaya explained, taking a sip from her glass, “you know how most Earth Kingdom folk are...” She gave him a look as Zuko listened in confusion. “The Fire Nation citizens simply have more class.” Amaya settled for with a shrug.

Oh.

Zuko laughed nervously, “I’m not sure I understand. I find Earth Kingdom citizens pretty pleasant actually, and Y/N, the one you met, she’s actually very resourceful and kind.” His mind went to Toph as well, who had invented an entirely new type of bending. She was an impressive young woman from the Earth Kingdom, and Y/N was as well, she’d started her own business at a young age and turned it into something incredible.

“Really? She didn’t seem too smart when I met her, but who can say no to a meeting with the Fire Lord?”

Zuko was pretty sure her words were meant to be taken as a joke. But Amaya wasn’t the first person Zuko had encountered with this mindset, she was just more subtle about it. The supremacy of the Fire Nation was still an idea that ran rampant in some people’s minds, though Zuko had dealt with most disputes regarding his peaceful relations with other nations. Many still missed the time when the Fire Nation practically owned the world, where Fire Nation citizens could treat the people who had their homes taken from them however they pleased.

It was a dark time in his nation’s history, nonetheless, several people missed it. This was something rather prevalent amongst Nobles though, they were the ones who lost an immense amount of land when the war had ended. Many of them were bitter about what had happened.

If Zuko was honest, she’d probably had these ideas drilled into her since birth, and simply hadn’t grown out of them, which was a shame. But as the ruler of a nation, he couldn’t rule beside someone who looked down on others simply because they weren’t from the Fire Nation.

Zuko shook his head, “Y/N built her business from the ground up. And now she’s helping the Fire Lord get dates.” He knows he sounds defensive, as though he’s prepared to fight her, something his Uncle would likely scold him for, but he doesn’t care at the moment.

“All she does is set you up with people.”

Zuko’s brows furrowed at this comment, and he raised a hand to get the attention of the waiter, “excuse me, could I get the check please?” The young man nodded, heading off to get the check, and Amaya looked at him incredulously.

Y/N had done far more than set him up with people, she’d helped him begin planning a Gala, she’d tried her best to find a good assortment of people that would fit both Zuko’s needs and the Fire Nation’s, and that list was probably very difficult to narrow down. Zuko had seen the work she put in for formulating profiles of the potential suitors, and throughout all of it she had done nothing but support him.

“What are you doing?” Amaya asked, shifting in her seat as she stared at Zuko quizzically.

The waiter came over and handed Zuko the check, and Zuko placed a pouch of money on the table, “thanks. Keep the change.” He explained, nodding to the boy, who’s mouth gaped open in surprise as he took the pouch of money, bowing to Zuko repetitively, though Zuko wasn’t paying much attention to him as he spoke to Amaya. “I don’t think this is going to work out, I’m sorry.”

Amaya is still seated in shock as Zuko rises from his table, and Y/N can’t help it when her mouth gapes open at the sight of him simply abandoning his date. She makes eye contact with Iroh, who raises a brow, and they both sit up. She moves to follow Zuko, only to bump into someone.

“I’m so sorry!” Y/N exclaims, moving down to help them pick up their hat, that had fallen when they collided.

“No, that was my fault entirely!” He responds, shaking his head as they both leaned town to pick it up.

“Aang, come on! He’s leaving.” The woman behind him exclaims.

Y/N’s brows furrow in recognition as she looks up to see a blue arrow tattooed on the man’s head, and her eyes widen in realization. Zuko had described Aang several times during their conversations, he and the rest of his friends came up often. But Y/N did not expect the first time she met the Avatar and his friends to be when they were both following Zuko on his date.

ATTEMPT FOURTEEN

Y/N simply sighs as she opens her door to see Zuko, in the outfit she’d helped him pick out. “What was it this time?” He’d been on thirteen dates thus far, and Y/N was slowly realizing that Zuko was likely one of her most difficult clients. This was purely because he’d yet to get a second date, though there had been offers, Zuko had declined all of them.

“She was just-” His hands gestured rather broadly, he was practically throwing them into the air, “she was so rude to the waiter.” This had always been a dealbreaker for him, since he’d worked as a waiter in two different tea shops, Zuko had come to understand the importance of treating a waiter with kindness and how difficult the work could be.

His eyes dart between Y/N and her door, she’s rubbing her eyes due to the exhaustion and Zuko can’t help the guilt that floods him. Nonetheless, she opens the door wider, heading inside her room and signaling for him to close it as she falls back onto her bed. “You were a waiter once, yeah?” He’d told her a fair share about his life in the Earth Kingdom, she’d inquired quite a bit about that part of his life.

He asked about her life in the Earth Kingdom too, and she’d told him how poor life could be the in the outer rings, something he’d experienced for himself. Zuko listened as she describe living after her parents had died, working for a matchmaker only to discover she was actually good at the job, making a name for herself in the outer rings and then making her way inwards until she was one of the most sought after matchmakers in the kingdom. Y/N spoke of how she’d met Marcella and Evelyn, and how she’d taken them in when she’d discovered they were both orphans, living on the streets as pickpockets.

Zuko wouldn’t help but laugh at this, he could imagine Evelyn as a pickpocket, but Marcella? She was a sweet girl, he couldn’t imagine her in a life of crime. Of course, desperation made people do questionable things. Zuko knew that much from experience.

“Yeah, I was.” Came his response, taking a seat in the chair by her desk.

Y/N sat up in her bed, bracing herself with her elbows as she raised a brow at him, “what are you doing?”

Zuko frowned, shifting in the chair, “sitting...?” He moved to get up but Y/N waved him off.

“Just lay with me, idiot.” She allowed her head to fall back onto the bed, patting the spot beside her. Clearly, her suggestion wasn’t bothering her, but Zuko felt his face flush at the possibility.

If he’s honest, he’s not even trying anymore when it comes to dates and women and love. There were three reasons for this, one of which was the fact that he simply wasn’t connecting with any of the women he had met thus far. Sure they were nice, and they probably would be his type has it not been for reason two. The fact that Zuko had realized he had feelings for Y/N, what feelings? He wasn’t sure, but they sure as hell weren’t platonic, if they were he would not be blushing this much. He wouldn’t get that weird feeling in his stomach whenever he spoke to her.

Then there was was reason three, if Zuko succeeded in finding love, then Y/N would leave. It was selfish, but he already knew he wouldn’t find anyone considering he pretty sure he loved someone else already. So now, Zuko was basically procrastinating letting Y/N know that this just wasn’t going to work out, mostly because he didn’t have a plan.

He was debating just firing her, but that likely wouldn’t go over well, and he wanted to see her business succeed. If you get fired by the Fire Lord, that just looks bad. Now Zuko wondered what the best way to go about this was, since there was no point in working for him, even if she was getting paid. He was a waste of time.

He couldn’t help the smile graced his lips as his own thoughts reminded him of the time she’d scolded him, telling him to quit being self-deprecating.

Zuko sat up from the chair, making his way over to her bed, Zuko found himself simply plopping down onto it face first, earning a laugh from Y/N.

He rolled over onto his back, turning to look at Y/N, only to find her eyes were already on him, bringing a blush to his cheeks as he mumbled, “what?”

“I’m just trying to figure out why you haven’t gotten a second date yet.” Came her response, propping herself up on her forearm. “You have a nice personality, you’re attractive, I’m sure at least one of the girls caught your eye.” Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair as she began to wonder if she’d incidentally allowed her own feelings to get in the way of her work. Maybe that’s why this was going so badly.

This was a problem.

Zuko simply shook his head, his face on fire as he listened to her words, though he couldn’t help the hand he brought to the scar on his face. Y/N had pointed out before that he was allowing his Father to control his actions even now that he was imprisoned, and Zuko was beginning to see what she meant.

Removing his hand from his face, Zuko sighed. Though he didn’t have much time to dwell on his thoughts as her hand hesitantly came to his face, placing a hand on his cheek and allowing her thumb to brush against the scar. Zuko jumped at the sudden contact, and Y/N moved to withdraw her hand almost instantly, but Zuko’s hand came to hers and held it there. Looking to her, he couldn’t read the look in her eyes as she gazed at him, and suddenly he wished he was as good at reading people as she was.

“No self-deprecating thoughts.” Y/N mumbled, “bad Zuko.” She removed her hand from his to flick his head, causing his brows to furrow.

He pouted, and Y/N let out a laugh as he spoke, “how come you haven’t found someone?” Zuko looked to her, “you’re beautiful, and smart, and just... perfect.” He didn’t notice when her cheeks warmed, “you’re a literal matchmaker, surely you’ve considered who your perfect person is.”

Y/N fell onto her back, running her hands over her face as she shook her head, “how have you not gotten a second date?” A sigh escaped her, “I haven’t had time for love before, and I just haven’t found that,” looking to him, she pursed her lips, “perfect person.” Growing up in the lower rings, she didn’t have time for an actual relationship, and her business as a matchmaker grew incredibly quickly. At the end of the day, long term just didn’t work out, Y/N barely had for herself, much less another person.

“I guess we both suck at love.” Zuko said, his tone was serious and Y/N couldn’t help but burst out into laughter as she swatted at his chest.

Too bad they couldn’t suck at love together.

ATTEMPT SEVENTEEN THROUGH TWENTY EIGHT

Smoothing over her green dress, a sign of her citizenship in the Earth Kingdom, Y/N moved to answer the knock on her bedroom door. Given how long she’d been in the Fire Nation, Y/N wondered if the Earth Kingdom would still feel like home when she returned. The idea of going back felt odd, and though that time likely wasn’t soon unless Zuko met the love of his life tonight, it was inevitable.

And it horrified her.

Holding the edge of the dress slightly to make it easier to walk, Y/N sighed and opened the door, seeing Zuko. A small smile on her face as she eyed his Fire Nation robes, “you look nice.” She complimented, tilting her head at him as she allowed her eyes to travel over his figure.

Zuko nodded, a blush coming over her cheeks, his mouth gaping open as he looked at Y/N. “You look beautiful.” She did, the dress looked amazing on her, her hair styled just right, and bracelets adorning her wrists.

“Thank you, Fire Lord Zuko.” His nose crinkled at the use of his title, coming from her it felt even weirder, wrong almost. But she continued, “mind helping me out?” She asked, moving back to her desk and taking a necklace in hand. Y/N had been struggling to put it on for the past few minutes, and now she had someone to do it for her.

He nodded, closing the door behind him, he took the necklace from her hand, and when Y/N ensured her hair was out of his way, Zuko brought the necklace around her neck. He secured the clasp, hands lingering as he adjusted it to the center of her neck. Zuko couldn’t help but notice a small scar on her shoulder, hand brushing over it.

Y/N looked over her shoulder and to him, brow raised, “how’d you get this?” He asked, brows drawn together. His hand traced the raised skin gently, Y/n could feel her cheeks warming at his touch, inhaling deeply.

She grimaced, “a knife fight I almost lost my life to.” Was her explanation. Y/N didn’t like to think back to the days when she’d resorted to several... questionable actions to stay alive. But she pushed those thoughts away as she turned to face him. “You ready?” Y/N asked, they had to get to the Gala soon, considering the fact that Zuko was the host, Y/N was shocked he’d even stopped by her room in the first place.

Zuko was silent, simply nodding as he extended his arm for her to take. And Y/N did, looping her arm around his as she smiled, “you are gonna woo so many Earth Kingdom women tonight!” Y/N exclaimed, more confidence in her voice than Zuko had.

Shame the only Earth Kingdom girl he wanted to ‘woo’ was her.

When they’d arrived at the Gala, descending the stairs together, they were greeted with the claps of the other guests. Zuko would feel the anxiety flood him, but he paid it no mind. Though Y/N could feel the way he stiffened as he ended his speech to the diplomats of all nations, “let this be a peaceful, and joyous night!”

They all burst out into cheers before the party continued, the music starting once more, and everyone returning to feasting upon the buffet, dancing along the ballroom floor or speaking with one another. All while Y/N led Zuko down the stairs, dragging him by the hand, “come on. Enjoy your own party, meet some girls.” She winked, and Zuko swore his face heated up even more than it already had.

Y/N wasn’t a fool, she knew that if she’d stuck by his side the entire night, she would serve as a repellant of any potential suitors. So naturally, much to Zuko and Y/N’s dismay, she removed herself from him, playfully shoving him towards a group of Earth Kingdom girls she’d mentioned earlier. Though there were several other clusters in the ballroom.

Zuko simply sighed, giving Y/N a small smile before making his way to the group of girls. If he was honest, he would rather be spending the Gala by her side, but he had to put in some effort. He owed Y/N that much. Besides, this was an entirely new group of girls, maybe he would find someone tonight.

“Hi there.” Zuko greeted, waving awkwardly at the girls.

This action earned him a few laughs, and he was unsure if they actually found it funny or felt the need to laugh since he was the Fire Lord. Shortly after they began introducing themselves, speaking like there was no tomorrow.

If Zuko was honest, the number of women here was overwhelming. So, as he excused himself from the conversation, much to their chagrin, he placed his cup down on the platter of one of many waiters. Making his way outside, Zuko couldn’t help but feel relieved at the fresh air that hit him on the balcony. Though he contemplated heading back inside when he noticed another girl was already there, eyes shut as she faced the sky, she turned to see him, eyes widening a fraction. “I’m sorry, I can go-”

“No!” She exclaimed, cheeks flushing in embarrassment due to her outburst, “no... it’s fine.” She turned back to look at the sky, hand clasped together, fidgeting.

Zuko stepped forward, finding himself situated across from her, leaning against the railing, “so why are you out here?”

A small laugh escaped the girl, and she ran a hand through her hair, “it’s rather stress relieving. You have a lovely view in your palace.”

He couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he realized she recognized him, though Zuko nodded along, “what’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking?” It was a stupid question, and Zuko nearly facepalmed as he pursed his lips.

“Aileen.” Came her response, and Zuko realized he recognized her name as well. She was the child of one of the more well known members of Fire Nation nobility, her parents had approached him in the past in hopes of arranging a marriage between the two of them. He had declined almost immediately. And now that Aileen turned to him, he had a feeling he made the right decision, “you’re Zuko, right?”

He exhaled deeply, nodding, “that’s me.” Sometimes, Zuko wondered what his life would’ve been like if he wasn’t Zuko, perhaps things would’ve been simpler. No, things definitely would’ve been simpler. There would be no diplomatic meetings, no wars, no idiots trying to hurt other people, no more assassination attempts, no more fake smiles and no more Galas. Of course, if he wasn’t Zuko, he never would’ve met Y/N.

“I heard you’re looking for a partner in crime.” Aileen prompted, “why aren’t you in there finding that future love of your life?”

Shrugging, Zuko looked up at the sky, “I found her. She just doesn’t want me.”

He can feel Aileen stare at him, she’s silent for a moment, and Zuko wonders what she’s thinking. Though he doesn’t need to wait long to find out as she responds, “I understand.” Aileen focuses her gaze on the glass she’d placed on the thick railing of the balcony, “the person I love probably doesn’t love me back. And even if they did, my parents disapprove.”

“Did you ask?” He felt hypocritical, Zuko himself had never spoken with Y/N in regards to his feelings, and he likely never would, but he wanted to know. “If they love you?”

Aileen laughs slightly, shaking her head, “I couldn’t bring myself to. I’m scared.” She replied, looking back to him curiously, “did you?”

“No.” He responded lamely, tapping his fingers against the railing with a sigh.

Aileen laughed at this, “I guess we are both cowards then.” She pursed her lips, “I didn’t ask because I was scared, why didn’t you?”

And then the words come spilling out, “whoever I end up with will greatly impact the whole world, whether I want to acknowledge it or not. And she doesn’t deserve that burden, nobody does.” He laughs bitterly as he continues, “she’s also the person that was hired to help me find love in the first place.” Zuko pauses, looking away from Aileen, “and I guess I’m scared too.”

“Ironic.” Aileen mumbles, bringing her eyes back to the sky, “let’s make a deal, Your Majesty.”

Zuko cringes at the use of that title, almost asking her to simply refer to him by his name, though he simply responds, “what deal?”

“We both confess. And if it goes horribly wrong, we can get married.”

Y/N can’t see the shock on Zuko’s face, but she can see how comfortable he feels with this girl, Y/N hadn’t seen her before, but she was just happy Zuko was connecting with someone. Except she also wasn’t, a bitter feeling enveloping her as she turned away, looking for something else to focus her attention on, something that didn’t hurt.

She turned to see Marcella and Evelyn in the distance, speaking with each other. Y/N supposed if she wouldn’t be finding love tonight, then at least they would. She was no fool, she saw the way they looked at each other, the glances when the other wasn’t looking. Maybe it was dumb, but Y/N found herself feeling jealous as she moved over to the buffet with a sigh. Food solved everything in her experience, after a client had a particularly bad day, food made things better.

“Perhaps some tea?” Iroh stood beside her, a kettle in his hand, he had insisted he serve tea at the Gala, though Zuko had assured him it would be just as easy to find someone else to do the job.

Y/N smiled at him, nodding as she took a cup from the array of them within the buffet, allowing Iroh to pour her some tea. “Thank you, Iroh.” Her voice is quieter than normal, and it’s clear that Iroh can tell something is wrong.

“You know, you deserve to be happy to Y/N.” His words catch her by surprise, though she doesn’t have much time to consider their meaning before flames lighting the room begin to move erratically, causing her brows to furrow.

Something was wrong.

Iroh nods to her, placing the tea kettle down as his brow furrow and she nods back, Iroh disappearing into the crowd of people. Y/N’s eyes fall back to Marcella and Evelyn, and she quickly moves to their side of the room, ignoring the hush that had fallen over the room, panicked gasps amongst them. Her hands fall onto both girl’s arms as she nods to them, “Y/N, whats going-”

Y/N is already dragging them in the direction of the exit, “get out of here, find the guards. I’m going to find Zuko.” The girls didn’t have much time to argue, as Y/N was already working her way through the panicked crowd, back to the balcony where she’d last seen Zuko. But, people were already pushing against her movements, making it difficult. Raising her head above the crowd in an attempt to see what’s going on, Y/N realizes whats happening.

Firebenders were trying to force them together, and Y/N couldn’t help but panic as she wondered if Marcella and Evelyn managed to escape and find the guards.

This was an ambush.

No, this was an assassination attempt. Zuko already knew as he watched the atmosphere of the party begin to shift, that and the person who stood before him in all black, brandishing several weapons. Alongside four others who stood by her side.

“You know, it wasn’t until I met you that I realized how bad it had gotten.” Aileen stood beside Zuko, eyes meeting his in horror as they exchanged looks. Zuko simply hoped the nod he gave her provided some semblance of comfort as he returned his attention to the person before him. “I mean, defending some lowly Earth Kingdom matchmaker? What type of career even is that?”

Her voice is almost maniacal, and Zuko can’t help but wince as he feels reminded of his sister. But he recognizes it nonetheless, Amaya. It had been months since he’d seen her, but he could still remember her voice. Her face was covered by a mask, and she wielded a sword, and if Zuko remembered correctly, she had been trained in dozens of fighting styles and was a talented bender herself. Alongside the four other men, Zuko couldn’t help but panic internally as he spoke, “Amaya, why don’t you put the swords down, and we talk about this.”

She laughs in response, ripping the mask that covered her face off and throwing it aside, “people have tried to talk to you about this. Your-” She grappled for the word, a hand yanking at her hair as she gestured to him with a sword, “your radical ideas!”

Zuko didn’t find having morals radical, but he wasn’t going to say that, not while Aileen’s life was on the line. Zuko suddenly realized why having an heir was important as he shook his head, “Amaya, look. Why don’t you let Aileen here leave, and then you and I can talk.”

Aileen looks like she’s going to protest, but Amaya glances at her red robes, a sign of her Fire Nation citizenship, and gestures for her to leave. “Get out. My problem isn’t with you.”

When Aileen doesn’t move, Amaya quickly grows frustrated, calling out to one of the guards she’d brought along that lied inside, “take this fool away.”

There’s no response, and Zuko can see panic flood Amaya’s face. And looking behind her, he quickly realizes that most of the guards have been subdued, Y/N holding one of them in her arms as she knocks them to the ground. Moving towards the balcony stealthily as Amaya’s hands begin to shake, fire sparking in her palms as she focused her attention onto Zuko. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to our nation.”

But Zuko wasn’t looking at her as he shook his head, hoping Y/N would understand. There was no way she could overpower Amaya, not with her bending. Y/N didn’t even have a weapon.

Now, Y/N knew for a fact that no matter how talented Zuko was, he wouldn’t put the girl beside him in danger. His priority would be keeping her alive, and given the training Amaya had as a noble, in both Firebending and fighting, she might even be as good as Zuko in a fight.

Meaning she had to be taken out of the fight.

Everything happened pretty fast after that. Zuko was shielding body coming forward to shield Aileens as he extended his freehand to Firebend at the people who’d surrounded them, only for Amaya to move out of the way. The girl was practically screaming bloody murder as she lunged at him, now wielding her sword.

Zuko didn’t have to figure out what to do next because Y/N moved faster than Amaya did, tackling the girl over the railing and down below as he began to scream.

THE FINAL ATTEMPT

Zuko’s knee is bouncing rapidly as he sits beside Iroh, who knits a scarf of some sort despite the blistering heat of the Fire Nation. He’s insisted that when Y/N returned to the Earth Kingdom she’d need it, and Zuko didn’t have the heart to disagree. Iroh had started stress-knitting about four hours ago, when Y/N had entered the room they all sat before, anxiously awaiting news of her condition.

Marcella and Evelyn are to Zuko’s left, Marcella’s sobs had quieted down, but Zuko wouldn’t be shocked if he looked over and saw tears silently streaming down her face. The girl hadn’t taken it well. Evelyn remained composed, doing her best to comfort Marcella, but the wait was clearly getting to her as well as she fidgeted with Marcella’s hands.

Seeing as Y/N had fallen from several stories up off the balcony and into the water below, Zuko didn’t really think it was possible to take the news well. But he was trying.

A pang sounded from inside the room, and Zuko practically shot up onto his feet, moving to knock on the door to discover was was wrong, only for Iroh to grab his wrist, shaking his head. Zuko exhaled deeply, beginning to pace across the hall. He found himself wishing that Katara hadn’t been busy with Water Tribe business, she was an excellent healer. Alas, Katara wasn’t there, and Zuko had to settle for one of the skilled Water Tribe diplomats instead, alongside a few others skilled in medicine.

As he paced, Zuko could feel Evelyn’s eyes on him, and it became clear she was itching to speak and he sighed, “what’s wrong?” There were dozens of answers to this question, the main one being the fact that Y/N could die today, so he hoped she understood what he meant.

The girl is glaring at him, and Zuko can’t help but feel uneasy. Because maybe she blames him for this as much as he blames himself, and maybe she’s going to tell him off, blame him for everything. Because if Y/N dies, she and Marcella will have no one again.

Not that Zuko would allow that. He’d grown attached to the girls as well, they were kind, and helpful. They’d help improve the interior decor of the palace, and if he was honest, it looked better than anything he ever could’ve done.

“You better tell her how you feel after this.”

Zuko’s mouth gapes open at the girl’s words, and he swears the breath leaves his longs, and its as though everything hits him then.

He would never get to tell Y/N how he felt if she died. He’d never get to listen to her try and tell a story just to go off on dozens of tangents, he’d never get to watch as she attempted to cook again, and he’d never get to hold her in his arms once more. There would be no more late night talks, and he wouldn’t hear her laugh, she wouldn’t tease him anymore and they wouldn’t walk through the courtyard feeding turtleducks again.

She’d never know he loved her.

Zuko finds himself nodding to Evelyn’s words, frozen in place as he looks to her and asks, “was I that obvious?” His voice is hoarse, and its probably because he didn’t stop screaming, even when Y/N’s body hit the water.

Marcella is laughing at his words, blowing her nose into a tissue that Evelyn hands her before she speaks, “painfully obvious.”

“For someone who’s job revolves around love, Y/N is one of the most oblivious people I’ve ever met.” Evelyn grumbles out, rubbing her eyes as she yawns.

It was late, Zuko knew that much, the guests of the party had gone to the infirmary in the palace, being tended to by doctors and any other available healers if injured. Otherwise, they’d all returned to their rooms to sleep, or more likely stay up in fear of another attack. Zuko surely would.

“Go to bed guys, it’s getting late.”

Evelyn looks at him like he’s one of the dumbest people she’s met, and if Zuko was honest, he probably was. But he simply nodded to Marcella, who had started leaning her head against Evelyn’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. “Uncle, why don’t you take them back to their rooms?”

Considering the fact that Zuko’s guards were around the corner, he wasn’t scared for his safety, but their presence just made him want to remain awake.

“Nephew, you should sleep as well.” His Uncle replied, though he rose from his seat, bringing the yarn and the start of the scarf under his arm.

Zuko gave his Uncle a smile, “I will. But if anything happens before then, I’ll be sure to alert you all.” He assured, nodding to Evelyn, who eyed him wearily. But she relented, shaking Marcella gently before standing up alongside her and Iroh.

When they were out of sight, Zuko plopped back down in the seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he brought his hands to his face.

And for the first time in the night he cried, his body racked with sobs as tears streamed down his face and he struggled to breathe. The pain of all that had happened felt almost unbearable. She had to live. Y/N had to live. Because Zuko was going to confess.

His fear of losing her outweighed his fear of rejection.

Wiping his tears away, Zuko suddenly felt grateful that Evelyn had left the box of tissues as he blew his nose. He sighed, his eyes piercing the door, hoping that something would happen.

As though his stare had willed her to exit the room, the healer came out, a grimace on her face as she looked to Zuko, likely because of his bloodshot eyes. The woman simply sighed, the grimace becoming a more sympathetic look. “Miss L/N lost a lot of blood... several of her bones were broken when she hit the water, especially her ribs. Her internal organs were damaged as well and... well it wasn’t very likely for her to survive.”

She’s dead.

Y/N is dead.

Oh.

“Wow, you look like a mess.”

Zuko’s head whips up, his eyes meeting Y/N’s, she’s leaning against a wooden crutch, grinning lazily at him. The healer beside her looks rather apologetic as she frantically explains, “she woke up far quicker than we anticipated and only agreed to rest if we participated in her rather cruel prank.”

So, she wasn’t a ghost.

Zuko launches himself up from the chair, nearly tackling Y/N, but the wooden crutch she uses for support serves as a reminder of her fragile state as he asks, “can I hug you?”

Her smile falters at the sound of his voice, hoarse and jagged, so she simply extends are free arm outward. Zuko takes this as an invitation for a hug, gently wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head in her neck, Y/N wrapped her free arm around his neck, hand finding its way to the hair at the nape of his neck. “Im s-”

“It’s not your fault Zuko. I swear if you say its your fault I will throw myself over the balcony again.” She threatened, hand tightening in his hair.

Zuko laughs quietly, inhaling deeply before he speaks again, “please never do that again.”

“I make no promises.”

Sighing, Zuko releases her, “I hate you so much.”

Y/N scoffed, “you love me.” She was limping over to the bed in the middle of the room, blood coating the surrounding area. Though the doctors in the room were moving across the room that they’d placed Y/N on, and dealt with her injuries on, Zuko couldn’t help but feel sick at the sight.

She could’ve died.

“Yeah, I do.”

Y/N pauses, turning to look back at him, her mouth gapes open. Zuko’s looking away, eyes on anything but her as he inhales deeply.

The healer simply sighs, “before we do this, I should inform the two of you that Miss Y/N cannot do any... strenuous activities for at least one month.”

Zuko’s cheeks are flushing red as he shakes his head rapidly, “ma’am-”

“We’ll be taking our leave. Have fun, but not too much fun. Please.” The woman closes the door behind her once the other doctors are out of the room, and Y/N can’t stop laughing at the mortified expression on Zuko’s face, despite the sharp pain she feels in her ribs.

Taking a seat on the fresh sheets of the bed, Y/N sighs, “so you love me?” She’s picking at the sheets, “as a friend?”

Zuko suddenly realizes just how right Evelyn was as he slowly shakes his head, “no. More than a friend. I think I inadvertently sabotaged half of the dates you sent me on because of it.”

Y/N laughs quietly, eyes falling on Zuko only to see he’s looking anywhere but her, she calls out to him quietly, “Zuko. Look at me.”

He doesn’t hesitate to bring his gaze to her, eyes meeting hers as he begins to fidget with his hand. Y/N simply reaches her hand out, and he takes it. “I love you too, idiot.” She mumbles, pulling him closer and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I just wish you had told me sooner so I didn’t waste so much time trying to set you up with other women.”

A small laugh escapes him as he brings his hand to her hair, “how do I know you weren’t purposely giving me bad matches because you were in love with me?”

Y/N removes her head from his stomach, looking up at him, her nose crinkles, “unlike you, I am a professional.” Zuko flicks her forehead, and Y/N pouts at him, hand coming up to his face, “can I kiss you?”

She can feel his face warm, but he nods rather enthusiastically nonetheless, and Y/N finds herself smiling at his as she uses her hands to pull his face downward towards her. His lips meet hers, and Zuko finds himself feeling complete, hands coming to Y/N’s face in an attempt to pull her closer while hers move to his ball up his robes that he’d yet to change.

Zuko pulls away first, forehead resting on hers, “you need to sleep.”

Y/N scoffed, eyes narrowing at him, “you need to sleep.” Looking to the bed, she raises a brow at him, “wanna lay with me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I could accidentally injure you or-”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N yanks him onto the bed, making her way to the other side and getting comfortable, “I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, everything would be fine. Maybe not for the Fire Nation, seeing as Y/N would potentially help rule a nation but...

Everything would be fine.

in·am·o·ra·ta/iˌnaməˈrädə/

noun

a woman with whom one is in love or has intimate relations.

A/N: i hope this was good enough!!! i tried!!! and idk how it ended up over 12k... that’s crazy man um kjhdsajfhjkah omg i really liked this concept though i hope i did it justice

TAGLISTS [lmk if you want to be added or removed via askbox or replies]

ATLA: @bubblebars @jada-cleo @Art-flirt @the-deli-meat @wemissyou3000 @ajediherowitchrunner

ZUKO: @outerxorbit @shawkneecaps @lil-lex1 @boxofteenageideas @izzieserra @eridanuswave @bigbuckyenergy @celamoon @savemesteeb @shephard17895 @ijustwannabecanadian @duh-dobrik @anime-simp @lammello

#prince zuko x reader #zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko x you #zuko x y/n #prince zuko x y/n #zuko atla x y/n #atla zuko x y/n #atla zuko x reade #zuko atla x reader #atla zuko x reader #prince zuko atla x reader #atla prince zuko x reader #atla x reader #x reader #atla #avatar the last airbender #lok #legend of korra

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pradaksj · 4 years

Text

ghostin || part 2 (finale). (m.)

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ ❝Though I wish he were here instead. Don't want that living in your head, he just comes to visit me when I'm dreaming every now and then. ❞

❧ pairing⟶ seokjin/reader

❧ genre⟶ angst, angst, and angst … did i say angst? + a bit of fluff? friends to lovers.

❧ word count ⟶ 18,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ major character death! sad ending. descriptions of grieving process.

❧ part of the ⟶ thank u, next series

part 1 || part 2 (final)

“H-He did the right thing,” Jimin stutters, and you were sure he hardly even believed what was coming out of his own mouth,“What he did was selfless,”he declares.

“No he broke my grandma’s heart!” Jia scowls at Jimin, “What a jerk…” she huffs, having been fully engrossed in your story.

“No he’s right,” you say, shocking Jia, “It was an act of complete selflessness and in a sense, I applaud him for being able to do it because God knows I wouldn’t have been able to,” you sigh, “But ask yourself Jimin, in a week from now would you regret it?”

He looks as if he’s about to nod his no, until you add to your question, “How about a year? Maybe two? What about three? Just how sure are you about it?”

He remains silent.

“Tell you what Jimin,” you pause, “Only if you’re one hundred percent sure that you’d have absolutely no and I mean zero regrets about your decision then go ahead and leave,” you say, and he looks at you in a confusing manner, “You heard me, you can get up and leave right now, but,” you add emphasis to the word, “if you have even the slightest bit of a doubt, then all I ask of you is to hear this story till its end.”

Jimin, who by now had grabbed his jacket from the table in preparation to leave, now hesitated. Before you went up to him, he was so sure he wouldn’t regret it… but now after hearing a part of this story of yours… that confidence was long gone. Because if history truly was repeating itself, then he wanted to know the ending to this tale.

And so remaining in his seat, a look of determination covered his face.

“Okay then,” you mutter, ready to continue.

“That night I had cried in that diner for what felt like hours. It wasn’t until the waitress had to tell me that they’d be closing soon that I remembered I was far from Seoul, and so instead I went to my parents’ house and spent the night crying in my mom’s arms. I didn’t tell her right away, but I knew that she had known. Because honestly why else would I cry that hard.

Still though, I kept my mouth shut about it for the week that I slept over there, thinking deep down in my heart that he’d come back and tell me it was all a big mistake. Because if he did, I would’ve forgiven him. Maybe give him the silent treatment for a bit, hell even make him beg a bit, but I would’ve still forgiven him nonetheless.

When I went back to Seoul, I stayed in the same apartment. I paid the same expensive rent despite there only being one person living in there now. I stayed there because every afternoon I’d come back from work with a tiny feeling of hope that when I’d walk in, I’d find him in the kitchen like I always did after work, eating God knows what.

Sadly it never happened....

In the beginning I’d have no problem visiting my parents in their home, that continuous hopeful side in me thinking I’d be able to magically see Jin at his parent’s house.

In reality the only person I’d occasionally see was his mother, who greeted me the same way she always did, acting as if nothing happened. I’m sure Seokjin must’ve told her through a phone call, but yet like the amazing person she was, she never asked me any questions about it. Never uttered his name around me, instead asking about trivial things like my career and such.

With no update on where Seokjin was, or what he was doing, it was only a matter of time in which I’d realize that things just weren't going to play out like how I imagined them to. The charming prince in my story had truly left.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and soon months turned into years. I stopped visiting my parents house as much, and ultimately began to ask them if they could come out to Seoul to visit me rather than the other way around. As going home only served as a reminder for me of what I had lost. No… of what had left me.

And so after about two years of being single, I finally began to date people for the first time in my life, until soon enough I met someone by the name of Seojun. Though it wasn’t exactly love at first sight, it was definitely my first serious relationship since my break up with Seokjin, and slowly I really did fall in love.

I had successfully forgotten about Seokjin.

At least I thought I did ….

I guess this brings us to where our story begins to end….

1999.

“My loneliness is killing me,” you whisk the batter of the cake you were making, “and iiiii,” the shiny ring placed on your left ring finger shines even under the kitchen light, “I must confess I still believe,” you pause for a moment, “I still believe,” you horribly sing the ad-lib to Britney Spears’ chart topper of a song, “...Baby One More Time”.

Out of nowhere, the music on the radio is turned down, “I think that’s enough whisking y/n,” your mom chuckles, “any more and you’ll over mix it.”

Sighing, you follow your mom’s orders.

Today was Christmas, and like every other year, you were spending it at home with your parents. Your fiancé, Seojun, who was out of town to celebrate the holiday with his family as well, would arrive in two days. It was the best compromise the two of you could make, with the agreement that the roles would be reversed for the following year.

Taking out the baked bread she had put in an hour earlier, she immediately sets it down on the cooling rack placed on the table, “You’re going to have to take these to Mrs. Kim right now,” she mentions, while cutting the bread into slices.

Silently, you nod, ignoring the drop in your stomach that you’d feel whenever you had to interact with anything that forced you to remember him.

Despite you successfully managing to forget about him in terms of your daily life, Kim Seokjin just wasn’t someone you could ever completely forget. No matter how much you wanted to.

Wrapping parchment paper around the pieces, you help your mom tie the cute little pieces of red string around it, her belief of presentation adding to the flavor still ringing true to this day.

She inspects them one more time before placing them into the woven basket decorated with many other Christmas like things, along with the two gifts she bought for the twins, “Make sure you remind her about coming over tomorrow with the kids.”

Nodding, you place your coat on and begin to make your way out, “And tell her I said Merry Christmas!”

Making a motion with your hand that you heard her well, you close the door before she can add anything else.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Ah y/n,” Mrs. Kim greets, pulling you in for a hug, “Merry Christmas,” she says.

“Merry Christmas Mrs. Kim,” you smile at her, handing her the basket.

“Come in, come in,” she insists, and reluctantly you do, “I swear everytime I see you it feels like I’m only getting older,” she chuckles, “You don’t want something to drink? Maybe some wine—”

Laughing at her enthusiasm, you say “It’s fine Mrs. Kim,” while looking around the place. She had done an amazing job at decorating this year, not like she never did, “Where’s Mr. Kim?” you ask in curiosity.

“Ah he’s not coming till later, had some paperwork he wanted to finish up at work,” she explains, and you nod in understanding.

“Merry Christmas!” two voices simultaneously yell, and immediately you're met with a giant hug from the two twins.

Eyes widening at how big they had gotten, a smile covers your face, “Now I’m the one who feels like I’m getting old,” you comment, resulting in Mrs. Kim to laugh.

The two, who had to be at least 13 years old by now, were definitely going through the phases of puberty by now.

Ruffling their hair, you recall how baby-faced they once were, only imagining how different they’d look in a couple years time.

Minjun, who now sported braces, was the first to speak, “Woah, it feels like we haven’t seen you in forever!”

Yeonha adds on, “Yeah! You’ve gotten so….” she stops herself from continuing, but you know what she wants to say.

“Old,” you finish for her, pretending to be angry by placing your hands on your hips.

She awkwardly laughs, scratching her neck, a habit she must’ve picked up from her older brother, “Of course not!” she tries to play it off.

“I’m only 25, turning 26 in a couple of weeks if you really wanna be specific, but that doesn’t make me old little lady!” you scold.

She raises her hands to her defense, while Minjun comes to her rescue, “I think the word she was looking for was mature,” he says, “I mean you’re dressed like those office ladies we see on TV,” and you’re unsure if the comparison was supposed to be a good or bad thing, but nevertheless you change the topic, not wanting to fluster them any more than they already were.

“So any gifts you two are wanting this year?” and immediately Yeonha’s face lights up at the question.

Eagerly she nods her head, “I think Santa,” she sends her mom a mischievous look, “is getting me a new beeper this Christmas,”

Mrs. Kim playfully rolls her eyes.

“Santa heard from a little birdy that your old beeper wasn’t stolen, but got dropped in water,” Mrs. Kim comments, and immediately Yeonha’s face pales.

She turns to her twin brother and smacks him in shoulder, “Hey!” he yelps, “it wasn’t me!” he scowls, “It was probably Jin,” and even by a single utter of his name, you feel your heart begin to race, “I swear, it’s like you purposely forget what you tell him on the phone sometimes,” Minjun continues to ramble on, clearly upset by the accusation of being the snitch.

“I think I should get going,” you suddenly interrupt.

“Oh but you just got here,” Mrs. Kim says, failing to notice why you were suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

“Yeah!” Yeonha adds for support, “Jin’s supposed to get here any second now,” she wiggles her brows, even after all these years, still clearly unaware of the circumstances for your breakup.

Mrs. Kim looks surprised at Yeonha’s sudden announcement, “He was supposed to get here at 8,” she mumbles, a wave of guilt washing over her.

You send her a sympathetic look, knowing that it wasn’t her intention to put you in an uncomfortable position, “I’ll see you all soon, I promise,” you say, and Mrs. Kim now barely notices the ring on your finger. A subtle gasp escaping from her lips.

With your hand on the handle, you begin to open the door, “And Merry Christm—”

Stomach dropping at the sight in front of you, you feel as if a semi-truck had hit you, rendering you at a loss for words, “Y-Y/N?”

The first thing you notice about him is the length of his hair. It seemed as if he had grown it back into the mullet he first had when you met him, only this time it suited the mature aura he seemed to have.

Dressed in a black turtleneck, matched with black pants and dress shoes, you weren’t sure if you were in shock because he was right in front of you for the first time in nearly 3 years or because of how easy it was for him to get your heart racing.

It was weird really, despite his change in appearance, for some reason even now you were sure that he was still the same old Seokjin you’d always known.

Noting that you’d been staring at him in silence for quite a while, you finally manage to spew something out, “S-Seokjin,” is all you manage to stutter under your breath.

The twins share a troublesome look to one another, “Come on you two, Mom made Pajeon,” Yeonha says, pulling the two of you by your respective hands and forcing you both inside, “We can all eat and catch up,” she smiles wide and big, “I’m sure you two would love that,” she winks.

“I d-don’t,” you attempt to say something, but too flustered for your own good, you remain in shock.

Glancing at Mrs. Kim, you notice the contemplative look on her face, as if she was debating with herself in terms of what to do.

Making up her mind, she announces, “I’ll get the plates ready,” much to your dread.

Awkwardly, the two of you are seated across from another, the tension in the room only building as you wait for the food.

“Soooo……” Yeonha breaks the silence that fills the room, “What have you two been up to?” she glances at the two of you, waiting for a response.

Feeling a knot in your stomach, you continue to remain silent.

It also didn’t help that Seokjin’s gaze had remained on you this whole time. It was as if he was studying you, analyzing you the same way you had done to him. He wanted to see if you had changed.

Feigning a cough, he ultimately speaks. “Shouldn’t you already know Yeonha,” he questions her, “unless you haven’t been listening whenever we talk on the phone…”

Her face reddens, “Of course I have! You just went to Taiwan recently to consult for some business company and do those boring analyses you always do.”

He shakes his head, “Then there’s your answer,” he simply states.

“Business? So he really did end up giving up on his dream ….” you think to yourself, a bit saddened at the fact. A part of you always assumed that Jin had left you to be well on his way to stardom, that when he left you that night, he truly was being the selfish person he claimed he wanted to be.

“Y/N? …” the sound of your name being repeated brings you back to reality.

For a moment you look confused, “I said what about you?” and for the first time since your breakup, both you and Jin make eye contact, easily taking your breath away.

Face reddening, you take a while to respond, “I um—” flustering with your words , you continue, “I’m um— the head writer at the same company I worked at years ago,” you force an awkward smile on your face.

“Oh…” Jin says, “Do you like it over there?” and the question brings you back to that first car ride to the diner when you had just moved to town. His delivery of the question still as blunt as before.

“Um yeah …” you reply, fidgeting with your fingers.

He genuinely smiles, “I’m glad,” he says, “really I am,” he adds for extra comfort.

And before you could say thank you, his mother enters the dining room, the plate of Pajeon in her hand, along with other side dishes, “Here you kids go,” she places the things on the table, “Make sure you eat it while it’s hot,” she warns before making her way back into the kitchen.

It’s only until you grab the piece of Pajeon with your chopsticks that he finally notices it.

He finally notices the shiny diamond ring you sport on your left index finger.

“You’re engaged,” he suddenly announces says , face unreadable.

As if the room wasn’t awkward enough….

Gulping, you nod, “Yeah,” you exhale, “it happened a couple of months ago,” you add.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, “I’m happy for you,” he gives you a small smile. Silently patting his mouth with a napkin, he gets up from his seat, “Well I just came back from a pretty long flight so I’m pretty tired, so I think I’m gonna head upstairs,” he avoids eye contact for a moment, a sign that he was lying, “Jet lag you know?” he awkwardly laughs, “But it was nice seeing you y/n…”

Getting up as well, you decide that it was best you left as well.

“Merry Christmas y/n,” he says one final time before heading up stairs.

“Merry Christmas to you too Seokjin,” you whisper under your breath.

“Since our breakup three years before, Seokjin had never once gone back home for Christmas, which was why I felt so sure that he wouldn’t that year, but of course I was wrong. So when I told my mom she immediately began to panic for me, remembering that she invited Mrs. Kim to come over the next day, and well of course she didn’t want to be rude and rescind her invitation.

And so I told my mom that it was fine. Whether Seokjin decided he wanted to come over or not, I’d be just fine. At least that’s what I tried convincing myself of…”

“Seokjin, we’re going to be headed our way now,” Mrs. Kim yells over the blasting music. God, did Jin feel like a teenager again. “If you change your mind well … we’ll be right next door!”

He hears her footsteps going down the stairs, signalling that she was gone.

Engaged …. You were really engaged ….

The image of the ring on your finger was the only thing that remained in his mind the night before, and it was what was haunting him even now.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, you were happy, you had found love in someone else just like he’d hoped for years ago.

He should’ve been ecstatic for you … but he wasn’t.

Several questions pondered in his mind once he saw it. Who was the guy? How did you meet? When were you sure you loved him? Was he treating you better than he ever did? Could he give you the future you always wanted? Just how happy were you?

Sighing, he gets up from bed, not wanting to sulk for any longer.

He had to do something, anything, for the meanwhile that he was back home to get his mind off of this. And so grabbing his jacket, he prepares to leave, unsure of just how long he could be in the same proximity as you without doing something he’d regret.

The sounds of crickets chirping fills the air, a wine glass in your hand as you look at the stars above in the sky from the comfort of your front porch.

Inside, your parents were talking about the most mundane of things with Jin’s parents, while the kids were busy preoccupying themselves playing with their newly gifted Nintendo 64. And after getting tired of constantly losing to them, here you were, taking a break from the chaos going on inside.

Seojun was arriving tomorrow, from there you’d only be here for the remainder of the weekend and then back home to your apartment in Seoul, as if nothing ever happened. Ever since yesterday, something was eating at you. You just weren’t sure what. And the only thing you could look at to ease your anxiousness was the ring on your finger, a solid reminder that you had a future to look forward to and that the past was buried six feet under.

Taking a gulp of the drink in your hand, you mentally curse Jin. Why did he have to return? Out of all years, this had to be the one he chose to magically come back in? “Damn you Seok—”

“Y/N?” you look up to see the person you were just damning, car keys in hand. It looked as if he was originally planning on going somewhere, but must’ve walked over here once he saw you sitting here by yourself.

“Seokjin,” you say, a mixture of both shock and displeasure evident in your voice.

Relief washes over him when hearing your response because unbeknownst to you, from afar you looked as if you were completely knocked out, a result of the position you were in while you were deeply thinking. Immediately he eyes the wine glass in front of you, everything beginning to make sense.

“You looked um—” shaking his head, he disregards what he was going to say, “Sorry I’ll just get going.”

And maybe it was the wine talking, but rather than keep quiet and watch him leave, you call out to him, “You can—” you hesitate to continue, “You can sit here if you want,” you say, “that’s only if you want to of course, I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to because I’m not exactly physically capable of doing that and—”

Jin interrupts your tipsy rambling by sitting at an appropriate distance from you, a soft chuckle escaping from his lips, “You always did like getting drunk off wine,” he whispers under his breath, a small smile on his lips.

For a while, the two of you remain in silence, simply staring at the view above. That was of course until you asked him a simple question, “Where were you going?” you mumble.

Bringing his attention towards you, his eyes soften, “Just wanted some fresh air,” he simply answers, being completely truthful.

Silently you nod, “Mm that’s good,” you say, your cheeks a soft tinge of red because of the wine.

“So…”

“So…” you mimic him, causing him to playfully roll his eyes.

“How have you been?” he attempts to break the ice, “I realized I didn’t really ask you that yesterday…”

It was funny really, the two of you truly had become strangers in a sense, just like how he said you two would be that night. But in a way, it also made things more interesting, it was as if he was getting the chance to know you for the second time in his life.

“I’ve been..” you hesitate to find the right word, ultimately deciding on the simplest one you knew, “I’ve been good,” you say, “I’m doing something I love, have an apartment I completely adore, and I found someone—” you stop yourself from continuing.

“You found someone you love?” he says for you, and silently you nod, remaining silent for a moment.

“Why did you—” you pause before continuing, “Why did you become a businessman?” you ask, the question having been on your mind since the day before.

Casually, he shrugs, “There was no future in the world of entertainment for me y/n,” he states, “so I went back to college, worked my ass off, and got a degree in financial accounting. From there the job offers came pretty easily and now I’m a traveling business analyst.”

“Did you do it because of your da—”

He’s quick to nod his head no, “I did it for—,” and at the last second he changes what he was originally going to say, “I did it for myself,” and you feel yourself getting angry.

“But it wasn’t what you dreamed of, it wasn’t something you loved!” you unintentionally shout.

“Hey hey hey,” he places a hand on your shoulder, “any louder and the whole neighborhood will hear you,” he attempts to joke around, and you feel your face get redder than it already was.

Letting go of your shoulder, he looks back up to the stars, his voice becoming soft, “The night I told you about wanting to seriously pursue becoming a director, you told me that if I failed, the real question would be if I’d be able to accept it…” your gaze falls on him while he continues to look up into the sky, “At first I wasn’t able to… I was too ashamed to admit to failure, but—” he smiles, “when I finally did, it almost felt liberating. And so I realized sometimes you have to give up the things you love, for a better shot at a future.”

Bullshit.

Complete bullshit.

That’s what you want to say to him.

And so you do.

“That’s complete utter bullshit Seokjin,” you mutter, taking a sip of your drink, “because if it isn’t then that makes you a selfish person, and you’re the farthest thing from selfish. So that’s just bullshit and you know it.”

He laughs, “It is, isn't it?”

Not expecting him to agree, you look at him in shock before grouchily looking away, focusing your gaze on anything but him.

Failing to hear the brief sharp hissing sound of his zipper being pulled down, you suddenly feel the placement of his sweater over your shoulders. You furrow your brows in confusion, “You’re shivering like a chihuahua,” he explains, scratching his neck like he always did whenever he was nervous.

Crossing your arms, you attempt to hide your face which you were sure by now was as red as a tomato. What the hell were you doing? Sitting here talking to your ex boyfriend of 6 years while your fianceé was probably well on his way here… it was wrong, it was inappropriate. So then if you knew that then why did it feel so … you brush the thought off before you could complete it.

“Because he was your friend first and as much as you hate to admit it, he'll always mean something to you…” you tell yourself, feeling guilty at the thought.

“Y/N?” he says your name, bringing you back to reality.

You look at him, wondering why he said your name out of the blue.

“Do you—” it was now his turn to hesitate, “Do you hate me?” he finally asks, and immediately your mind says no. You could never hate him, even if you wanted to.

He stares at you, anxiously waiting for a response.

“No I don’t.” you simply say, not bothering to elaborate any further, but for Jin that was enough. It was enough to tell him that you still …

“Seojun…” you whisper under your breath, a car pulling into the driveway of your house, a look of surprise on your face. Immediately you push off the jacket from your shoulders, catching Seokjin by surprise.

“So this is who he is…” Jin thinks to himself, watching the handsome man come out of the car, a grin on his face as he locks eyes with you.

Walking towards him, Jin watches as you lovingly greet the man with a kiss to the cheek, the two of you then walking towards him. “Seojun this is Seokjin, his parents are the neighbors,” Seojun offers his hand out, a polite smile on his face, “Seokjin this is Seojun, my fianceé,” the two shake hands. Your past and present finally meeting.

“Seokjin which means to be a great treasure,” Seojun attempts to make small conversation.

“He’s a linguist,” you explain, awkwardly chuckling, noting the fake smile on Seokjin’s face.

“Mm I see,” he mumbles, bitterness in his voice.

“I thought you weren’t coming till tomorrow?” you ask your fianceé, still surprised by his sudden appearance.

He shrugs, “What can I say, I got bored,” he laughs, “So I said my goodbyes early, and decided why not come here to surprise you,” he kisses your forehead, and Jin feels the green eyed monster making its way out.

“Well I should get going,” Jin states.

“You sure?” you widen your eyes at Seojun’s sudden question, “I mean I love your dad y/n but it’d be nice to have someone else to talk to,” he chuckles, “and well I definitely wanna hear about what y/n was like as a teenager from someone who isn’t one of her parents.”

You and Jin both make awkward eye contact, unsure of what to say. “Maybe some other time,” Jin manages to say, “I have to um…” he flusters, “um..”

“Finish typing up that business report you were talking about,” you make an excuse for him.

He snaps his fingers, pretending that that was what he was trying to say, “Mmhmm yeah!” he scratches his neck, “My job just doesn’t want me resting, not even for the holidays, you know how it is...” he adds on, coming for the Actor of the Year award at next year's Oscars.

Seojun surprisingly believes it, “Damn, that’s too bad,” he scratches his chin, a sign that he was thinking of something, “Well are you coming to our engagement party? Maybe we can talk then,” he says, and if your eyes weren’t already wide enough, by now they were well on their way to falling onto the floor. Seojun was just too kind for his own good.

Jin practically chokes on his own spit, “I um—”

Realizing that you probably forgot to invite him, Seojun interrupts before Jin could feel any more embarrassed, “January 12, at the Lotte Hotel in Seoul, 6PM sharp.”

Feeling his face get red, Seokjin nods, “Yeah I’ll be there,” he forces a laugh.

Patting his shoulder, Seojun smiles, “I look forward to talking to you then,” he says, beginning to make his way inside, with you following closely behind, a guilt-ridden look on your face.

Now by himself, Jin silently cursed to himself. Damn him! Seojun wasn’t at all the asshole Seokjin made him out to be in his head. But damn did he want him to be one…. then it’d be much easier to hate the man, and it’d make him much less guilty for what he was planning to do….

“After that night, I’d go to sleep scared. Not because I was in danger in anything, but because I was scared about the feelings I’d repressed for so long now starting to return. I was scared of looking back…”

Patting down your black fitted cocktail dress, you look at yourself in the mirror for a final time, “Everything is going to be just fine,” you whisper to yourself, having cooped yourself in the ladies restroom for quite some time now.

You couldn’t help it, the moment you saw the twins walk in with Jin’s mother, you knew it was only a matter of time before Jin walked in.

Ever since that Christmas weekend, his sudden return into your life had been eating you alive. You had gotten over him, you were sure of it. No … you are over him. Point. Blank.

This ring you wore on your finger signified that you were over him, that there was a different future to look forward to now. That whatever was meant to be in the past was no longer an option for you now. Right?

The door suddenly opens, “Y/N, there you are!” your mom comes in with an upset look on her face, “the host of the party can’t just disappear whenever she wants to,” she scolds.

Staring at her with a doe eyed look, you want to tell her everything. Everything that you were currently feeling, every question, every doubt that was crossing your mind since Jin’s return. But instead you just look away, making your way out.

“Taiwan huh? I’ve always wanted to visit there,” you hear your future brother-in-law, Hoseok, say.

He, along with Seojun, Seokjin, and some other guests were currently discussing God knows what in a social circle.

“Y/N,” Seojun calls out to you, a grin on his face.

Immediately you make eye contact with Jin, feeling your every movement being scrutinized under his gaze.

Sucking it up, you plaster a smile onto your face, reminding yourself that in a couple of hours you’d be in bed, with the only other times you’d have to see Jin being your rehearsal dinner, which was the night before the wedding, and the wedding day itself. And even then he would just have to be another face in the crowd of guests.

Seojun places a kiss to your cheek, “Jin was just talking about his adventures in Taiwan, I’m thinking it might be a good destination for our honeymoon,” he says with genuine excitement in his tone. Oh how naive he was…

“Oh…” is all you can say, struggling to keep the smile on your face, “um yeah, I guess that would be a nice place to go, wouldn’t it?” you attempt to stay engaged with the conversation, and it seemed as if it was enough to fool Seojun because soon he was talking about something else with another guest.

But clearly it wasn’t enough to fool Jin, as he currently had his gaze fixed on you, occasionally taking a sip out of the glass of whiskey in his hand.

“I think I’m gonna go out and get a breath of fresh air,” you whisper to Seojun’s ear, and silently he nods, distracted by the conversation he was currently having.

Going out, you make sure not to be seen by your mother, knowing that she’d only scold you again for trying to leave. And so like the cowardly person you were, all you could do was hide and wait in the hotel’s little garden, sitting on the stone bench, the smell of the flowers somewhat relaxing you.

God, did you just want this night to be over already…

“You shouldn’t have come here,” you suddenly say, feeling the presence of someone behind you, but you knew exactly who it was.

“You looked sad,” you hear Jin say, genuine concern in his voice.

You remain silent.

Sighing, he sits next to you, the moonlight framing his face in such a way that he almost looks ethereal. “Originally I wasn’t going to,” he says, understanding the double meaning to your words, for you meant that he shouldn’t have came to this event at all, “But I needed to see it with my own eyes, confirm that it wasn’t just some—”

“What? Some joke?” you scoff, “Some wretched attempt at getting over you…”

Now it was his turn to remain silent.

You shake your head, “3 years Seokjin,” you say, “3 years you were gone and you just had to come back the year I get engaged,” you bitterly chuckle, wishing you had a drink in your hand, “funny how life works huh?”

Silently he nods, agreeing with you, “I guess it was just a natural sense,” he attempts to joke around, but you remain silent, “I’m sorry,” he randomly says and you look at him confused, “For coming back,” he elaborates on the apology, “if I’d known beforehand I wouldn’t have come back to town for both of our sakes,” he chuckles, being completely honest.

“Hand me that,” you motion to the drink in his hand, and without question he does. Taking a giant gulp, you then finally say something, “I’m getting married in 6 months Seokjin,” you remind him of your future fate, “it was going to happen before you came back, and it’s happening even after,” you turn to face him, wanting to make sure he understood that at this very moment you were placing a line between you two, one that you hoped was unbreakable.

He returns to stare, “I know y/n,” he simply responds.

“Do you?” your face twists into a frown, “Because I know you Seokjin and something in my gut is telling me that—”

“Y/N I know,” he repeats, “but just answer one thing for me…” he pauses, contemplating on whether to continue but does so anyway, “Do you really love him?”

And just as you’re about to respond, he interrupts, “But I mean genuinely y/n, enough where you really can picture the rest of your life with him with absolutely no regrets, no what if’s…” he adds.

Could you? You ask yourself. Could you really imagine being with Seojun with no regrets…..

To Jin, your silence was enough of an answer, but before he could get a word in, a voice suddenly interrupts, “Y/N!” Seojun calls out, “There you are,” he exhales a relieved sigh, “We’re about to cut the cake,” he glances at Jin, nodding as a way of saying hello.

“Oh right ...” you get up from the bench, a black cloud hanging over your head, “I’ll see you at the wedding Seokjin,” you look at Jin a final time, the statement ultimately acting as your answer.

“The six months went by in the blink of an eye, but each and every night when I went to bed, it ate me alive.

The lies I was telling my fianceé, the lies I was telling myself, everything was just becoming too much.

And as the date loomed closer and closer, it was only getting worse. And so the night before the rehearsal dinner I finally came clean…”

Staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, you’d become accustomed to the sleepless nights for the last six months, faint lines beginning to form under your eyes.

In less than 48 hours you’d be a married woman, welcoming a future you’d always wanted. So then why was it now, you still couldn’t get a wink of sleep.

“Wedding jitters?” you hear Seojun whisper beside you, and you find yourself shocked that he was still awake. Usually he was quick to fall asleep, a deep sleeper as well, so to find him awake was pretty unusual.

You remain silent, hoping he’d just fall asleep, but like the caring person he was, he softly nudges you despite knowing that you were ignoring him, “Seojun, go to sleep, it’s late,” you mumble in the darkness, reminding you of a memory from long ago.

“Something’s bothering you,” he says, now turning to face you, and he nudges you a second time, “You know you can tell me anything…” he adds, wanting to reassure you.

This was your chance, your chance to tell him everything before it was too late. It was speak now or forever hold your peace, and so sighing, you position yourself to sit up, turning on the bedside lamp.

“Seojun I haven’t been completely honest with you…” you announce, now avoiding eye contact. “And well you deserve to know the truth because you’re an amazing person who deserves nothing but the bes—”

“Y/N,” he interrupts you, a soft laugh emitting from his lips, “I know Seokjin is your ex, and I know he still loves you,” he drops the bombshell of news on you, and you could’ve sworn you felt your jaw hit the floor.

“W-wait w-w-what?” you manage to breathe out, and it only makes him laugh again.

He now sits up, nodding his head, “I knew the moment you introduced his parents as the neighbors rather than calling him an old friend,” he chuckles, “you were trying to make it seem a little too platonic,” your face squirms, “and well you’re not exactly the best liar,” he pauses, “Plus your mom isn’t exactly a quiet speaker so when I heard her rambling to your dad about the situation, I sorta just knew.”

“T-then why didn’t you call me out on it?” you immediately ask, but before he could respond, you continue to ramble, “God, I’m so sorry Seojun,” tears well up in your eyes, ��I love you, I really do,” you say, completely truthful, “but I-I-I—” you struggle to continue.

“But you also love him,” he completes for you, a look of understanding on his face.

Immediately you nod your head no, “No I don’t it’s just—”

“Y/N it’s fine,” he says, grabbing your hand, but you still refuse to admit it.

“No Seojun, you don’t get it. I love you, I do, more than you ever know and I’m ready to start our future together but—” you look away, “as much as I hate to admit it I’m always going to feel something for him because he was my first love,” you whisper the last part, “but you’re my last,” you reaffirm.

Seojun smiles sadly before sighing, “I know, which is why I sorta just let it be that night at the engagement party because well... I figured that if you were able to make it to the aisle without turning back it meant that you truly did love me,” he pauses, “Because even now you have the choice to turn back y/n, you do understand that right? I won’t be mad, I won’t be too sad, and I won’t hate you for it because I understand,” he says and you feel a teardrop fall from your eye, “that night I overheard him ask you if you really loved me and though you didn’t immediately say yes, you also didn’t flat out say no. And so it seems you’re at a crossroad… ” he whispers.

“Seojun…”

He squeezes your hand, “When you step on that aisle then I’ll have no doubt that you’ve completely unregrettably chosen me,” he says, “and if you don’t then I’ll know you were just never meant to be mine,” he smiles softly.

A silence follows.

“Tomorrow he’s going to the rehearsal dinner, and I’m assuming it’ll act as his hail mary. His final attempt at getting you back,” he suddenly says, “and so it’ll be your time to make a decision … a future with me or a look back at the past with Seokjin,” and he kisses your cheek, his way of saying goodnight before making himself comfortable in bed again, quickly falling asleep, and leaving you in the same sleepless state you were already in before.

He was right, knowing Seokjin tomorrow he was going to do something because you were 100% sure that he would never grow the balls to object to the matrimony in front of everyone. And so as the clock kept ticking, it was only up to you to decide your future.

“The next night came quicker than expected. After all of the guest greetings and pretentious conversations I had to make, it was time for the guests to make a toast. By then I had already made a decision in my mind, I just didn’t expect everything to happen the way it did….

For over the last 50 years I’ve constantly looked back at that night and have asked myself where it went wrong, what could’ve gone differently, what if this, and what if that… as it was never meant to escalate to the point it reached...

But it did … and as much I would love to go back in time and change everything, I can’t. And that’s just something I’ve had to accept, no matter how much it hurts…”

Clink. Clink. Clink.

You eye Jin as he gets up from his seat, his glass of sparkling water in his hand.

You’d been avoiding him like the plague the whole night, just wanting to get to the wedding day as soon as possible.

You attempt to remain calm.

He wouldn’t do it, not here in front of everyone. If he really cared for you like you believed him to, then he wouldn’t.

You knew Jin, and he was the kind of person to pull you to the side or find you alone like at the night of the engagement party in order to tell you something. Never would he stoop so low to do something like this…

Feigning a cough, he speaks, “I want to make this as quick as possible, don’t want to take too much of everyone’s time,” Jin’s mother glances at yours, the two of them unsure of what was going on, “So where do I begin…” Seojun looks at you with an impassive expression, your conversation from the night before coming to fruition, “Ahh I know,” Jin snaps his fingers, “So for anyone who doesn’t know, I actually dated y/n first…”

“Seokjin,” his mother attempts to stop him by harshly whispering his name, but he relents.

“We dated for about 6 years actually, to a point where we sure that we’d spend the rest of our lives together,” he scoffs, “but then I ruined that by breaking up with her,” he reminds you and everyone else around you of the fateful night, “which I know is shitty of me to realize just now how much of a mistake it was. But I mean what are the chances that I come back the year you’re about to get engaged, I mean that has to mean something right?” he rambles, almost as if talking to himself, convincing himself that this was the right thing to do.

Everyone sits in shock of the words spewing out of his mouth, certain that this was only something that happened in movies, never imagining that it could actually happen in real life, “I’m only saying this now because I realize it’d be even more of a dick move of me to object in front of everyone,” he chuckles to himself, “And so I’m doing this now, in front of everyone y/n…” he locks eyes with you, “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “but this is our last chance, a final shot at the future you’ve always wanted... with me.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

Slowly you get up, a heavy feeling weighing down your chest as you clear your throat before speaking, “I know this is a lot to ask but if everyone can get up and momentarily leave the room, I’d really appreciate it,” you announce, “I’d like to talk to my friend privately for a moment,” you look down to Seojun who nods understandingly.

Without question, Seojun begins to lead everyone out, until ultimately it was only you and Seokjin standing by yourselves, a scene all too familiar to you.

“Y/N…” he begins, but you’re quick to cut him off, your hand placed on your temple.

“Why?” your voice breaks, any emotion you’d been withholding beginning to unravel, “Just why?” is all you’re able to ask.

“Because you don’t love him y/n,” he whispers loud enough for you to hear, and it’s at hearing that, that you feel a shift in mood.

“But I do Seokjin!” you yell, seeing nothing but red now.

Silence momentarily lingers in the air, until you scoff.

“What were you thinking, Seokjin? That you could just come back into my life and I’d welcome you back with open arms?” you ask, tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall with every word you got out.

He shakes his head, “No but—” he hesitates, walking closer to you, “what are the chances y/n? What are the chances I come back to town the year you’re getting married—”

“The only reason I’m getting married to someone else is because you left me!” you interrupt him, reminding him of the choice he made years ago.

He looks away, “You don’t get it y/n,” he mumbles under his breath, beginning to grow frustrated.

“What’s there not to get Seokjin?” you push at him, now yelling, “If I hadn’t gone looking for you that night, I would’ve been left with nothing but a goddamn note—”

“I was doing what was best for you!” he yells in return.

“For me?” your voice shakes, “Leaving me at a diner in the middle of the goddamn night with some poor excuse wasn’t the best for me! Leaving me to cry in bed, by myself, for almost 2 years straight wasn’t the best for me! Leaving me, not knowing where the hell you were for almost 3 years wasn’t the best for me!” you finally explode, years and years of anger now revealing itself.

“Everything I had felt, the sadness, the anger, the frustration, everything … was finally being released…”

“I begged for you that night Seokjin, begged!” you emphasize, the tears that had been building up, now falling hysterically.

“I was just trying to do what was best for you,” he says, completely and wholeheartedly honest, because it was true. At the time he really was doing it all for you, and you understood that now, truly you did.

“But I just couldn’t let it go… I was still hurt, and that hurt was what was holding me back. That hurt was what was preventing me from walking out the back door with him, ready to finally start that future with him I always wanted…”

“I didn’t need you to do anything for me!” you yell, “I was a grown woman Seokjin! Capable of making my own decisions, just like I am now!” your heartbeat slows down, “I gave you my heart that night Jin!” your voice cracks, not only feeling your heart break for the second time in your life, but all by the same person, “It was you who left me! Not me, you!”

“Because I didn’t want to hold you back y/n,” his voice breaks, “Because at the time I couldn’t give you the things you wanted.”

“And I told you I didn’t care!” you cry out, “Because for me all that mattered was being by your side…” a silence follows, “You were my first love Seokjin,” you breathe out, “the first boy to make me feel completely and unconditionally loved and so for that I thank you,” you say, “I really do…” you grab his hand, “but this—” you struggle to say the words.

“But this is the end,” a tear falls down from his eye, and you can only stare at him in sadness.

“I’m choosing Seojun, completely and unregrettably,” you whisper, placing a final soft kiss to his cheek, “I’m sorry,” I’m sorry for being unable to let go, is what you want to say.

“So then I should go,” he quietly says, and silently you nod, letting go of his hand in the process.

And he watches you as you walk away, “Y/N,” he says your name for a final time and you turn around, sadness still etched in your face.

There’s a brief silence before he continues.

“Live—” he hesitates, “Live a life you’ll be proud of,” he reminds you, and to that you send him a small smile. A chapter in your life coming to its end.

“And so the next day was the wedding....”

“How are you feeling y/n?” your mom comes up to you from behind, practically feeling just as nervous as you were.

You pat down your dress, sighing in the process. Ever since last night, there was a churning feeling in your stomach that had been bothering you, but you reasoned with yourself that it must’ve been due to the events of the night prior, “Nervous but I should be good to go,” you respond, and your mom gives you a smile of reassurance.

Curious to see how many guests had arrived already, you look out the window of the room you were in, which gave a perfect view of the venue. Scanning across, it seemed like everyone was here except…

“Where’s Mrs. Kim?” you ask, “and the twins?”

After last night’s events, Mrs. Kim had gone up to you frantically apologizing for her son’s behavior, rambling about understanding if you didn’t want her at the wedding anymore, but you were quick to tell her that it was fine. That just because Jin did what he did, didn’t mean you didn’t want her attending. Which was why now seeing her seat empty along with the twins’, you were not only confused but a little hurt.

“Maybe they’re stuck in traffic,” she reasons, “they did leave quite late,” she adds.

Deciding it was best not to dwell on it too much, you push it to the back of your mind, “Let’s get this show on the road,” you ultimately say, ready to get married.

“You have to remember that in the early 2000’s, not everyone had mobile phones yet because of how expensive they were. People were still used to calling a house phone by memory and crossing their fingers that you’d pick up. You couldn’t just send a text message to absolutely anyone whenever something of importance happened…” you explain, your voice beginning to shake, “you couldn’t inform someone of an emergency until God knows when,” a tear falls from your eye, “Because if you could, then—” you let out a heart wrenching sob.

“Grandma?” Jia says in concern.

“Then I would’ve never gone through with that wedding…”

Seokjin was tired, no … he was exhausted.

God, was he such an idiot. What the hell was he thinking doing that? You were right, did he really think he could just waltz back into your life and everything would just go back what it once was? And to see you cry like that only made him realize even more of what a complete selfish asshole he was.

But at least, you both found closure right? That was all that—

The sound of Seokjin’s car engine making an ugly noise breaks him away from his thoughts. Almost immediately, he pulls over to the side of the road, purposely stopping near a payphone for reference.

Grabbing the flashlight from his compartment box, he gets out of the car and lifts up the hood of the car.

“Hmm...” he hums, nothing seemed wrong. It was probably just his car’s way of saying that it needed to be replaced by a newer model soon.

He smiles, tapping the hood once he placed it back down. He’s had this thing since his first year in college, it being by his side almost as long as you had been, if not more.

Yawning, he gets back in the car, the need to fall asleep becoming a little too overwhelming. Placing the key back in the keyhole, he turns it in order to turn on the ignition, but to his surprise the car refuses to start, “Come on LadyBug,” he says, the name of the car being something you and him both made up on a drunken whim, it sticking ever since.

Deciding to be stubborn tonight, LadyBug relents.

Sighing he grabs his Nokia phone from the glove compartment, the giant words of “NO SIGNAL” only making him sigh more. He just wanted to go home and sleep already.

Getting out of the car once more, he walks towards the phone booth, inserts a quarter, and dials the number of his parent’s house phone. As much as he hated to ask for help, desperate times called for desperate measures, and his dad should be home.

“You have reached the voicemail box of 45x-7x8-87xx, please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeep,” the automated voice instructs.

Seokjin groans, maybe his dad was asleep, “Hey dad, I’m sorta stranded out here with a car that doesn’t seem to want to start and well … I think Mom is still at the rehearsal dinner with the twins,” Seokjin begins to ramble, “She’s probably on her way back home, but you know her,” he chuckles, scratching his neck, “she still refuses to get a mobile phone so there’s really no way of calling her till she gets home,” despite his father not being on the line, he still felt awkward asking him for a favor, “I’m on interstate 6, you know … the usual route to get from Gwacheon to Seoul. Well, I’m gonna try calling someone else just in case you’re asleep… bye,” he hangs up the phone, disappointed that he was going to be stuck here longer than he hoped for.

Who else could he call, hmmm.

Ah! Yoongi! Hell maybe even Taehyung or Namjoon! Though it’d been a while since he last saw them, he was sure they’d be willing to do him the favor.

Quickly dialing their numbers one after another, he’s met with the same automated message of, “We’re sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check your number and try your call again.”

“Damn, they probably changed numbers,” Seokjin mumbles to himself, unsure of what to do.

Glancing at the time in his watch, he realizes just how late it was. Who else could he call….

The image of you appears in his mind, but he’s quick to shake his head no. He was the last person who could call to ask for a favor, but damn was your number the only number he had left in his memory.

And it wasn’t like he could sleep in his car for the night, that was only an invitation to get robbed on the side of the road.

He needed some kind of help, and quickly at that. And the chances that you were already home were pretty high, never being much of a partier to begin with.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, promising himself that this would be the last time he ever asked you for anything. He could only hope that you still lived in the same apartment….

“We should really start heading back home,” you whisper to Seojun’s ear, the rehearsal dinner having only awkwardly resumed about an hour or two ago. Things were barely beginning to get comfortable again among the guests, not like you could really blame them, they had just witnessed something that looked like it came out of a movie.

“Y/N,” he chuckles, “Have some fun,” he says, as this was probably your 10th time saying this in the last hour, “You deserve it,” he tries to convince you, your whole mood having gone sour since the whole mishap.

Sighing, you look away shyly, “I don’t know Seojun—”

“Come onnnn,” he teases, gently pulling you into a hug, “Just one more hour.”

You roll your eyes, “Hm fine,” you say, easily convinced, “but only one,” you reaffirm.

He nods, “only one.”

“Hello, we are currently either sleeping or—Jin I’m making the message for the voicemail thingy majiggy—” the sound of a high pitched laugh in the background is heard, and Jin remembers how he had been poking fun at you for using your “I mean business” voice, “as I was saying, we are currently either sleeping or at work! Sorry we couldn’t reach your call at this time, but please please please leave a message after the beep and we’ll make sure to get back to you as soon as we can! You ready? Beeeeeep!”

Jin laughs at how silly you sounded, surprised that you hadn’t changed the message in the last 3 years. It probably meant you had no reason to, considering it was pretty rare that you didn’t pick up a phone.

Meaning maybe you weren’t picking up on purpose….

Jin shakes his head, reminding himself that he was calling on a payphone and that there was no way you could see it was him. It was just self doubt getting to him.

“Hey y/n it’s me um Seokjin,” he awkwardly laughs, “I know I don’t really deserve to be asking you for a favor right now, but um,” he exhales a deep breath, “I’m sorta stranded right now and well I tried calling everyone else I could think of at the top of my head, I swear, but no one picks up,” he wants to make sure you understand that you really were his last option, “I promise that after this it’ll be the last time you see or hear of me, but I’m just really tired and well I just wanna go home and sleep. So if you can, I’ll be on interstate 6 with LadyBug,” he chuckles, “Um …” he’s unsure of how to end the voicemail, “I’ll see you soon then… bye ….”

Sighing, he walks back to his car, deciding he was going to try one more time before officially giving up. Twisting the key, he could only cross his fingers that it’d start up.

Vrooom.

A toothy grin appears on Jin’s face as he childishly celebrates, “Oh thank God,” he whispers to himself, rubbing his eyes and preparing himself for the drive ahead.

“Y/N,” your mom calls out to you from the dance floor, a shock ridden expression on her face, “Y/N!” she yells again, this time grabbing your attention.

“What is it mom?” you ask, unaware of the severity of what she was about to tell you.

“We need to go outside, I—” she seems out of breath, “I need to tell you something,” her voice shakes, and an immediate concern covers your face.

“Right now?” you ask, confused as to what could be so important that she needed to tell you at this very moment, in the middle of your wedding reception.

Silently she nods, leading you outside, her hand intertwined with yours. Your dad, with a solemn expression on his face, follows not too far behind.

“Something’s happened y/n…” she begins, voice wavering, “It’s about Seokjin…”

Inaudible words are spoken.

And soon you fall to the ground, the shock paralyzing you in such a way that you were sure this had to be some cruel nightmare, the sound of silent muffled sobs escaping your lips and filling the air.

A tragic story coming to its end.

“He died that night driving,” you hauntingly say, “A car had swerved into the opposite lane, and he was just too tired,” your voice shakes, “He didn’t see it in time,” tears fall down your eyes, “He died that night thinking I didn’t love him when in reality I loved him more than ever before. I was just too prideful to admit it,” you wipe the tears from your cheeks.

Jimin and Jia were at a loss for words, shock running through their veins, their eyes wet with their own tears, “You-You’re lying…” Jimin’s voice breaks, unable to comprehend what you had just told them.

“His mom didn’t get the call from the police until she got home, and even then she immediately rushed to the hospital, clinging onto the tiny bit of hope that he’d be just fine,” you shake your head, lips quivering at the recollection of everything, “She told my mom the next by calling my dad’s travel phone, felt like as a close friend … I deserved to know.”

“Grandma…” Jia says weakly.

“I always ask myself what if I hadn’t agreed to stay that extra hour that night. What if I had gone home like I should’ve and heard that voicemail? Because if I had, I would’ve gone to go get him without even a second thought. But like I said, I’ve just had to accept that what happened happened, and there’s nothing I could do to change that.”

Seojun gently knocks on your bedroom door, dressed in an all black suit, “Y/N…” he softly says your name, “Today’s the funeral… you,” he pauses, “you have to get up…” his voice is gentle, but firm, “You—” he hesitates, “You have to go y/n, you have to say goodbye,” he whispers.

He hears you attempt to muffle your sobs, just like you had been for every night of the last month. But in a room full of utter silence, it was almost impossible not to hear you.

“Y/N…” he slowly enters the dark room, heart breaking at the sight of you aimlessly staring at the ceiling. Sitting beside you, he begins to gently run his hand through your hair, an effort to comfort you.

But the heartfelt action only makes you sob harder, reminding you of the person you had lost, “I—” you barely croak the words out, “I just want to sleep,” you whisper, because you knew that it was only in your dreams that this wretched reality no longer existed. It was only in your dreams that he still… existed. It was the only time you were truly happy.

But by going to that funeral, it meant coming to face with the reality that everything was indeed real. That Kim Seokjin was truly dead.

“I know you do y/n…” he frowns, “but you have to say goodbye,” he repeats his words from earlier.

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

Didn’t he understand? You didn’t want to say goodbye! You weren’t ready, and you weren’t sure if you were ever going to be.

“I don’t want to,” your voice cracks, face feeling moist because of how much you’d been crying.

“I-I know y/n but—” he’s unsure of what to say. What the hell could he say? You were mourning, you were heartbroken. The man you loved more than the world itself was dead, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

“I have to say goodbye,” you quietly mumble into space, the phrase echoing inside your mind, “I have to say goodbye,” you repeat for a final time, an empty look in your eyes.

The rain pours as you watch the casket get lowered, almost as if grieving itself.

There’s a haunting emptiness in the atmosphere, everyone still in too much shock and disbelief to believe that this was all real.

All you could do was blankly stare at what was in front of you, trying your best to tune out Mrs. Kim’s raw sobs, the sound being too much to bear.

She had lost her very first born. The child she learned how to nurture, the child whose job was for her to protect, the child who was one of her greatest joys in this world, but most importantly the child she had no doubt loved unconditionally. And so to hear her cry with such a deep hysteria…. it was just too much….

Your mom squeezes your hand tightly, knowing that no words could take away the pain that you were feeling. She had first hand witnessed the love Kim Seokjin had for you, watching it go from a faint crush when you two were teenagers to a love so strong she was once sure it was unbreakable. You were going to get through this dark period in your life, that she was sure of, but the real question was when exactly would you come to accept it.

The clergy makes the final cross motion, ending his eulogy with God knows what because right now everything was just a big blur for you. Because even now with the sight of his casket being lowered six feet under and seeing both his mother and siblings cry like never before, it just didn’t feel real.

Slowly members of his family begin to leave after bidding their final goodbyes, with the occasional number of them stopping to give you their condolences, only making your heart wrench even more. You weren’t his wife, so why were they treating you like some widow? You didn’t deserve their consolation because you didn’t choose him. Like the horrible person you were, you just watched him leave that night. If it weren’t for you—

“Y/N?” a familiar voice interrupts your thoughts.

Turning, you feel your body go cold, “Y-Yoongi?” and beside him were none other than Namjoon and Taehyung, all three of them having tear stained eyes.

With sad eyes, they give you a small smile, clearly hurting themselves at the loss of their dear friend.

Soon you’re embraced in a hug by them, your body still in disbelief at the sight of them. It had been so long since you’d last seen them, years in fact. Never did you imagine your reunion with them would be here.

“W-we would’ve gotten here sooner but we caught traffic,” Taehyung says with a weak voice, eyes on the verge of spilling more tears.

And for the first time in a month, a small smile appears on your face, “You’re—” you sniffle, “You’re such a bad liar,” and he pulls you in for another hug, this time allowing those tears to fall.

The four of you soon stand in silence, words not having to be exchanged in order to understand what you were all feeling.

Namjoon suddenly speaks, “The last time I saw him was was the day he first came back into town, Christmas,” Yoongi smiles at the memory, all three of them being there, “He stopped by our apartment before going back to his mom’s, said he wanted to say hi,” Joon continues, “even apologized for just disappearing out of nowhere.”

“Tch that idiot,” Yoongi mumbles, “he said the first place he wanted to go was the diner but that they were closed,” Yoongi’s eyes glisten, trying his best not to cry.

“He then promised that for the next time he saw us, he’d to treat us to a meal and some soju,” Taehyung feigns a laugh, “We never got to take him up on it though...” his eyes lower.

“But the thing I’ll remember the most was his horrible attempt at finding out how you were after all those years,” Namjoon shakes his head, a dimpled smile appearing on his face.

Yoongi’s face lights up, remembering just how much he teased Jin that night, “You should’ve seen him,” he chuckles, “Not only were his ears red like how they’d always get but his whole face as well,” tears fall from Yoongi’s face as he laughs, “He looked like a tomato.”

“Ah and the mullet,” Taehyung reminds them, and soon the clear image of the Jin you’d fallen in love with when you were seventeen appears in your mind.

And for the first time since their appearance, you speak, “He—” you softly chuckle, “He was always convinced he’d bring them back in style,” and the boys feel a sudden sense of happiness in seeing you talk about him.

“Yeah he was—” Namjoon suddenly stops speaking, the boys and him now staring at something behind you.

It was Mrs. Kim, who was now walking towards the four of you, a box in her hands. A solemn smile graces her face.

One by one, she hugs each one of them, turning her attention towards you last, “I was—” she pauses, “I was hoping I could talk to you, privately,” she says, the boys silently nodding and bidding a silent farewell to you, glad to have made you smile, even if it was for a temporary moment.

She leads you to a bench, not too far away from his grave.

By now the rain had stopped and the sky was now a gloomy shade of gray.

Placing the box on her lap, for a small moment both of you simply stare at the view in front of you in silence.

You hadn’t talked to her since the night of your rehearsal dinner, not because you didn’t want to, but because looking at her reminded you so much of him. It reminded you of that first day you met him, how she had forced him to show you around town, not knowing that the two of you would be head over heels for one another years down the road. She, along with your mom, had always been your guys’ number one fan, always rooting for the both of you.

“He really did love you,” she stares off into the distance, “up until his very last breath, I’m sure,” she whispers.

You lower your gaze, unable to look at her.

Oddly enough, there was a peaceful aura in the air, both quiet and serene. Just like he would’ve loved it to be. He never did like seeing people cry.

“Whenever he’d come back home to visit, you should’ve seen the way his eyes would light up when he’d talk about you,” she smiles, “always eager to talk about what you were doing with your career,” she fiddles with her wedding ring, “Sungjin would get peeved but Seokjin wouldn’t care,” she chuckles, “he just loved you that much.”

At the mention of his father, only then fo you realize that you hadn’t seen him at all the entire service, “Where’s—” you’re hesitant to ask, not wanting to push boundaries, “Where’s Mr. Kim?” you croak. Yeah, he and Jin didn’t have the best relationship, but did that really matter now? Did any of it matter at this point?

She bitterly smiles, “He’s grieving in his own way,” she says, her voice breaking and her eyes still watery, “Those two had a tough love relationship,” she feigns a laugh, “but—” her voice cracks, “I always secretly knew that Seokjin was Sungjin’s favorite,” she sniffles her tears, “he just wasn’t good at showing it.”

You try your best not to cry, too physically and emotionally exhausted to sob any more. To you, it was just better to be numb than to feel every single emotion heightened, but God was it so hard. Everything just had to be so fucking hard.

Tightly, you grip the bench with your fingers, biting your lip in effort to suppress your emotions.

Slowly, she begins to open the box, pulling out what seemed to be childhood photos of Jin.

A genuine smile appears on her face as she begins to show you them, wet tears splashing onto the squared photos, “I—” she stutters, “I wanted you to have these,” she begins to explain, handing some of the photos off to you, “I tried looking for the photos and videos he’d take when you two met but,” she frowns, “but I don’t if he threw them away or—” she begins to ramble, “so I brought you these instead. I’m sorry they’re not of the exact memory you have of him,” she feigns a chuckle, “you know Seokjin,” she scratches the back of her neck, reminding you of exactly where Jin got his mannerisms from, “he never did like taking pictures.”

She flips through more of the photos, “I’m sorry there’s not that many,” her voice shakes, “I just—”

She needed to keep her memories of him too, is what you know she wants to say.

You notice that she’s also thrown some of Jin’s favorite things in the box, his denim jacket, the original little Mario figure he had always kept on his bed stand and his favorite Mariah Carey album, Daydream.

“I understand Mrs. Kim,” you softly say, “Thank you,” you whisper to her, embracing her in a tight hug.

“I should be the one thanking you,” she says in return. Thank you for loving him, are the unspoken words that linger in the air.

“I should—” you lower your gaze, “I should get going,” you say, feeling as if the world was spinning, your breathing now becoming rapid.

With the cardboard box in your hands, she watches as you hurriedly leave, only hoping that rather than haunt you, things could one day get better for you.

Running as far as you could, you hide behind a pillar.

It was all too much.

Everything was just too much.

Finally, silent sobs escape your mouth as you squat against the cement pillar. Grabbing his jacket from the box, you sob into it.

You just couldn’t let go.

As much as you wanted this all to be some horrible nightmare, you knew deep down it wasn’t. This mind numbing pain was all too real and unbearable for it to be some dream. You weren’t going to be waking up and finding Jin by your bedside, you weren’t going to hear his high pitched laugh ever again, and you weren’t ever going to be able to tell him just how much you still loved him.

Because Kim Seokjin was never coming back.

Your Jin was never coming back.

And it was completely all your fault for it. It was all your stupid miserable fault. If only you had—

“Y/N?” Seojun crouches down to face you, genuine concern on his face. “You’re—” he stutters, “You’re gonna get sick standing out here,” he wipes your snotty nose with his suit’s handkerchief.

Seojun was trying. He was trying to be as supportive as he could, and you understood that, truly you did. But just looking at him was a reminder of your choice because at the end of the day he was the person you chose over—

“It’s going to get dark soon y/n,” he whispers, “I-I think we should get going.”

You stare at him in silence and then turn to face the direction of the grave.

He wanted you to say goodbye.

But you just … you just weren’t ready to.

Because there lied the boy you were once so certain you’d have a future with. The boy who was capable of making you laugh even on gloomy days like this. The one who loved you on your good and bad days. The one who stood in a room full of people just to tell you how much he still loved you, something you knew he was probably so nervous about.

And so you just couldn’t let go.

But knowing you’d couldn’t stay here forever, you had to do the most humane thing you could possibly do. You had to live on.

“And so I did, all for him…”

“Yeojin!” you grab your mischievous 4 year old from the waist, stopping her blatant attempt at touching the stove, “What did I say about trying to touch the stove,” you scold her, and all she does is giggle, clearly unaware of the potential consequences of her actions.

Sadly you couldn’t be too mad, she was still learning right from wrong, but when it came to things like this, it was hard to keep your patience.

Carrying her up the stairs, you continue to scold her, “Remember what I said about it being hot,” you remind her, “you don’t want to end up with your fingers all red, do you?”

She nods her head no, “Of course not mommy.”

“Then,” you sigh, placing your little girl on her bed.

“Daddy said I’m in-de-struct-ible,” she sounds out the new word she’s recently learned, “Like Spiderman!” she mimics the superhero’s web shooting ability, the movie she just saw recently still clearly still in her mind.

“Okay Spiderman, I think it’s time you take a nap,” you say, and she mumbles something inaudible in return, “Hey hey, don’t go giving attitude now little lady,” you hide your smile, “it’s too early for all of that.”

Though not wanting to sleep, she allows you to tuck her in, already planning to get up and play with her toys once you left.

Taking note of her grumpy attitude, you place a kiss on her forehead, gently combing a hand through her hair, “I love you,” you coo.

“I love you too Mommy,” and before you knew it, her eyes were closed, the little girl now “sound asleep”, or at least that’s what you thought.

Sighing, you leave the room, gently closing the door.

That girl was a handful, most definitely, but she was everything you had in this world. Your symbol to keep moving forward, despite that constant need to look back.

Going down the stairs, you hum Mariah Carey’s new song, “We Belong Together” , the famous singer’s latest comeback single having topped the charts these days.

“When you left I lost a—” the smell of something burning gathers your attention, the intense scent of cooking oil alarming you that something was wrong. Your mind goes back to when you grabbed Yeojin from reaching the stove, her arm clearly outstretched—

Boom!

The kitchen illuminates an intense shade of red, a fire now starting from the stove, “Oh my—” immediately you run up the stairs because despite your mind being in utter chaos, one thing was clear: you had to get Yeojin out of here.

Frantically turning the knob to her door, you come to realize that it’s locked, “Yejin!” you yell.

“Mommy, I’m playing!” she giggles, oblivious to the danger you both were in.

You practically begin to punch the door, “Yejin I need you to open the door!” your breathing becomes heavy, panic now flowing in your veins. Smoke was beginning to reach upstairs, signaling to you that this fire was moving fast, dangerously fast.

Taking a deep breath, you take a couple of steps back from her door, “1..2…” using all your force, you ram into the door, effectively opening it in the process.

Without a second thought you grab Yeojin, wrapping one of her blankets around her body and face, immediately running down the stairs as fast as you possibly could.

By now the whole entire living room and kitchen were in flames, and you could hear Yeojin begin to whimper, confused as to what was going on.

“Everything’s gonna be okay baby,” you soothe her, your hand regrettably grabbing the door knob.

Immediately you hiss in pain, retracting your hand, “Oh God,” your hand felt as if it was sizzling.

There was no way you could get to the window, not without risking your daughter’s safety.

Preparing yourself for what you were about to do, you mentally reassure yourself, completely grabbing the door handle and twisting it, withholding the screams you desperately wanted to let out until you were out.

Running out, you place your daughter on the neighbor's front yard, the family immediately coming to assist you.

By now the whole neighborhood was standing outside their houses, concern and worry evident on their faces, “Oh my God y/n,” your neighbor notices the burn on your hand, “Go grab the kit in the basement!” she instructs her son.

By now, your breathing was erratic, a result of all the smoke you had inhaled, “T-The f-fire de—”

“We’ve already called them, they should be on their way. I’ve called Seojun’s job as well—” she immediately reassures you, “You need to relax y/n,” she tells you, but immediately your mind goes to something inside your house that was irreplaceable.

Mrs. Kim’s box.

Getting up from the lawn, you hear Yeojin call out to you, “Mommy!” she yells as you begin to run back to the house, focused on one thing and one thing only.

Getting that box.

“Y/N!” your neighbor tries to get you to come back, but by then you were already making your way inside, using your shirt as a cover for both your mouth and nose, a measly attempt at having more time inside the house.

Running up stairs, you barge into your room, immediately looking to the spot in your closet where you always had the box, but to your shocking surprise… it wasn’t there.

“What the…” you mumble to yourself, your lungs beginning to feel heavy again.

Without a second thought, you begin to ravage the room, knowing your time in here was limited. The fire was going to reach up the stairs at any moment, and once it did, it was over for you.

“What the fuck!” you yell to the empty room, feeling as if you were on the verge of an utter mental breakdown. It had to be here! There was no way you moved it, and Seojun knew better than to touch it. Putting a halt to your search, your eyes widen when you come to realize something.

What the hell was Yeojin playing with?

The Mario figure.

And in the blink of an eye, you run out the room, only to find the hallway now engulfed in flames, making it almost impossible to get into her room, not unless you wanted to burn to death.

“No…” you say under your breath, refusing to believe the box was in there. Your vision was beginning to get hazy and your head was pounding, now unsure if it was because of the fire or if it was because of the state of shock you were in. Tears begin to fall from your eyes as you hear the sound of the firetrucks nearing the house.

“Seokjin…” your voice breaks, realizing that the final things you had to remember him by were now gone. But despite your state of grief, your body knew it had to move on its own. Because by staying here, you’d inevitably die, and he wouldn't want that, not because of something like this.

Lifting up the window in your bedroom, you begin to slowly place your body out, trying your best to work with one hand. The fire was beginning to get to your bedroom, and you simply couldn’t afford to wait for the firemen to come with a ladder.

Sucking the pain up for one final time, you place your injured hand onto the ledge as well, now dangling outside the window, a scream of pain coming out of your mouth.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” you hear Seojun call out to you, “I’m gonna get you help, just hang on!” he yells, immediately running back to the front yard to presumably tell a fireman.

But the pain on your hand was just too much.

You needed to let go.

Even if it meant getting hurt in the process.

And soon you feel the impact of the floor, your arm taking mosting of the hit, most definitely dislocating. The last thing you see being the paramedics.

“Mommy! Mommy! Look what I made for you with all the other kids who were visiting their mommies and daddies!” Yeojin eagerly shows you the scribbling piece of art she created from her car seat, a toothy grin on her face.

“It looks amazing Yeojin,” you feign a smile, trying your best to act normal. Today you had been discharged from the hospital after about 2 weeks of getting your hand and arm treated along with having multiple tests ran because of the amount of smoke you inhaled.

Now, with bandages wrapped around your hand and a heavy cast, which the doctor said would take about two to three months to completely heal, you were on your way to your new (temporary) home. The fire had ravaged absolutely everything, sparing not a single thing in its sight.

It was your fault really, you shouldn't have had the cooking oil so close to the stove, especially without its cap on.

You turned your attention to Seojun, his quietness during the whole car ride not going unnoticed by you. It seemed as if whenever he did talk or laugh, it was unmistakingly fake.

Deciding you weren’t going to press him on it in front of Yeojin, you tell Yeojin to go upstairs to her room once you arrive.

Sighing, you place your things on the dining table, your free arm now feeling sore from its now constant use.

You attempt to make small conversation with your husband, “The insurance company called me at the hospital, said almost everything was covered…” you bring up, but he remains stoic.

You try again, “Yeojin seems to have made a lot of friends, with the way she was rambl—”

He finally breaks his silence by interrupting you, “Why did you do it...” he mumbles, causing your eyebrows to perk up, “Why did you run back into that fire?” he asks, trying to contain his anger.

You feel your body freeze for a moment before answering, “I told you already, I wanted to get the papers in the sa—”

He’s quick to cut you off, venom in his voice, “Stop lying,” he grits his teeth, “There was—” he shakes his head, “There was only one thing in that house that I’m sure you’d risk your life for Y/N, so let’s stop acting dense here…”

You lower your gaze, silence filling the room.

“You could’ve died y/n,” he whispers, and your silence only peeves him, “Died!” he repeats, wanting you to understand the possible severity of your actions.

Narrowing your gaze, you scoff, “You think I don’t know that,” you spit back, not exactly fond of how he was treating you, as if you weren’t a grown woman capable of understanding the consequences of your actions.

“No I don’t think you do,” he retorts back, “Because if you did then you wouldn’t have ever gone back inside that house to begin with!” his voice becomes louder.

“You’re going to wake her up,” you refer to Yeojin, who was probably taking a nap in her room.

It was now his turn to scoff, “Like you care.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you growl in return.

“You almost left her without a mother!” he finally yells, “All for that goddamn—” he stops himself midway, unable to finish the sentence.

You glare at him, knowing exactly what he wanted to say, your eyes already getting watery at the thought of it, “Say it,” you challenge him, “Say what you’ve been wanting to say for all these years,” you mutter.

“He’s gone y/n…” he tiredly whispers under his breath, maintaining your gaze, “He’s been gone for 4 years now!” he cries out, and you feel your face twist in anguish.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“It’s time to accept it y/n, you can’t keep letting him haunting you, you can’t keep being in deni—”

“Just shut up!” you yell but he relents.

“Life has moved on y/n,” his voice breaks, “it’s time that you do too!”

“But I have! Can’t you see?” tears are uncontrollably falling down your face by now, “I stayed with you despite it all!” you scream, now heaving in anger, “I had a kid with you, we bought that big old house you always wanted—”

“And why is that y/n? Why did you stay with me after his death, huh? Why?” he asks you, his questions ringing in your head, making you feel as if you were going insane.

“Because I made a choice that day!” you yell loud enough for your voice to echo across the room, everything coming to a haunting silence, “Because I chose you that night, when I could’ve chosen him,” you cry, “And I can’t bring myself to regret that choice, not anymore at least, because regretting you would mean regretting her!” you glance at the stairs, signalling that you were talking about Yejin, “And I just can’t bring myself to do that. I chose you, and I have to deal with that decision for the rest of my life. I got up from that bed years ago and went on with my life all for you—”

He shakes his head, “No you didn’t…” he frowns, “You didn’t…”

You did it for him.

“Y/N he’s dead…” Seojun repeats, his heart still wrenching for you even years later, “it’s time you let go and begin to live for yourself. Not for him, not for me, not for her, but for you,” he grabs your hand, squeezing it in the process, “It’s time you let go.”

You pull your hand back, refusing to accept it, “I just—” you muster up your tears, “I just wanted to save what was left of him. Because without it he just existed in my memory and—” your voice shakes, “and now he really only does. Because now he’s really gone,” you sob,“ Can-Can you really blame me?” you weakly say.

“I can’t,” he says, “but I also can’t keep doing this anymore,” he murmurs, “I’ve tried y/n, I really have. But I can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, and I have to prioritize Yeojin first and so I think—” he struggles to continue, “I think we should get a—”

“Divorce,” you scoff, tears still flowing down your face.

He gulps, “I’ve been talking with a lawyer for about a year now, we’d get joint custody, with no need for court because I don’t see us having to make this a longer process than it needs to be.”

“You’re not taking my daughter away from me,” you clench your teeth.

“I know I’m not and I wasn’t planning on it because damn it y/n, you’re an amazing mother. Truly, you are. But—” he pauses, “But until you find closure and acceptance then I think—I think she should stay with me for the meanwhile, until you’re ready that is.”

Until you’re ready to let go.

By now you were fully sobbing again because not only were you unable to control your emotions, but because you knew he was right. Ever since Seokjin’s death, he was the one who had to hear you silently cry at night, the one who had to accept that no matter what Seokjin would always be the one dearest to you, and who secretly hoped that with time it’d be something you’d get past.

Had it been anyone else, and you were sure they would’ve left you the day Seokjin passed. But Seojun was different, Seojun understood. But he couldn’t prioritize you anymore, not with Yeojin now in the picture.

You feel his arms wrap themselves around your frame, comforting you for a final time, “I’m sorry, for everything,” he whispers.

“Me too Seojun,” you hum in return, “Me too.”

The smell of the fresh rain hitting the concrete headstones fills your nose as you make your way to the resting place of the person you once loved the most. You hadn’t been here since the funeral, too in denial to ever really visit.

It had been three months since your separation with Seojun, your arm now fully healed. Currently, you were staying at a small apartment near your parent’s house, still unable to bring yourself to stay at their place. Not with the amount of memories it brought on.

The last you’d heard, Mrs. Kim had also moved, and you assumed it was for the same reason you couldn’t bring yourself to go back home. It was just too much.

Placing the red roses on top of the headstone, you make yourself comfortable by sitting on the grass, not caring if it was moist from the rain.

You just wanted to talk to him.

“I’m getting divorced, you know?” you begin, deciding to catch him up on recent events, “Things didn’t seem to work out between me and Seojun,” you chuckle, staring at your now naked ring finger ,“Not that you hadn’t predicted it already.”

Silence.

“We had a daughter together,” you mention the hyper little girl, “Her name is Yeojin, I think you would’ve loved the name,” you say, “She—”already you feel tears beginning to well up in your eyes, “She sorta laughs like you, that same kind of laugh that unintentionally makes everyone around her laugh,” you begin to ramble, “she seems to like Mariah Carey as much as you too, she’s the only artist we’ve noticed that can get Yeojin up and dancing. I’m sure she would’ve loved to dance with you,” tears begin to fall from your eyes.

The soft sprinkles of the rain surprisingly soothe you.

“God, I’m such a crybaby,” you mumble, remembering how Jin would tease you for your sensitivity to things, “It’s just so hard, you know? Sometimes it still feels like you’ll walk through the door with a VHS movie you just rented in your hand, talking about how excited you are to see it after hearing reviews,” you laugh, “or that you’ll come in the room to tell me to fix your hair after cutting it crookedly.”

You place your hand on his headstone, softly grazing your palm against its rough surface, “You know scientist theorize that there’s possibly billions to an infinite number of parallel universes out there,” you chuckle, “I learned about it in my introductory course to Physics my first year in college, I don’t know if you remember me babbling about it,” you continue, “But it means that there are cosmic patches which are exactly like ours where everything has happened exactly like this one, meaning somewhere out there there’s someone exactly like us, except they have the possibility to do things different. And so... I wonder in which universe did we get our happy ending?” you solemnly ask, “I—”

“Y-Y/N?” a familiar voice says your name from behind, and immediately you turn to face the person.

“Mr-Mr.Kim?” you say in disbelief, as you hadn’t seen the man in years. Not since the final year you were still with Jin.

You scan his appearance, wrinkles and gray hairs now more prevalent on him, but yet he still looked like the spitting image of his son. He just looked more … tired.

He places the flowers in his hands next to yours, silently taking a seat next to you. You were still staring at him in shock as he was the last person you would’ve expected to see today.

“It’s—It’s been a while,” he says, and originally you were unsure if he was saying it to you or his son, that was until he turned his attention towards you.

Silently, you nod, unsure of what to say, “Yeah,” you mumble.

“Do you often come here?” he asks.

Ashamed, you nod your head no, “This is actually my first time since the funeral,” you confess.

He hums a response, not in a place to judge, “Nothing to be ashamed about little girl, we all have our own ways of grieving and coping with a loss,” and you’re surprised to hear such comforting words from him. In the years you’d known him, you couldn’t recall a time where you had an actual genuine conversation with him. It was depressing that it had to be now.

“Do—” you hesitate, “Do you?” you gulp, “Do you often come here?” you repeat his question.

Coughing first, he then responds, “Every Friday since his funeral,” his fingers tremble, and you were unsure if was because of his age or because of the topic he was currently talking about, “I do it to catch up with my boy, keep him up to date with the things you young people are doing,” he explains, eyes now glistening, “it’s the least I could do for him,” he mumbles.

A silence follows after.

Feeling bold, you ask him something you’d been curious about for a long time, “Why didn’t you come to the funeral?”

He stares at the headstone, “I—” he sighs, “He was my first born, my first son, my—” he hardens his jaw to prevent himself from crying, “The night it happened he called the house, asking me to go pick him up. I had been tired from work that night, so I went to sleep early,” you feel your heart twist, “If I hadn’t overworked myself that day, I could have picked up that phone call and told him to stay where he was, that I’d be there in no time because at the end of the day he was my son who I loved like no other, even if we had a rocky relationship. He still called his dad for help, and I—” he takes a deep breath in, feeling himself lose control, “I let him down,” he ultimately says, “And so I let the guilt eat me alive, to the point where I felt like I didn’t deserve to go to my son’s funeral.”

You stare at him in silence, understanding exactly what he felt. For you had felt that same guilt all these years.

“I quit my job following his death, and fell into a deep depression like no other. Yerin and I were even close to getting a divorce, the loss of our son adding a strain to our marriage,” he explains, “She had managed to accept and let go of her pain, but for me it was just too much. I couldn’t accept that he was gone,” he pauses, “I just couldn’t let go.”

A single tear falls from his eye.

“I was breathing , but no longer was I living,” he continues, “And so I needed to learn how to live for myself. I needed to accept that he was gone. I needed to say goodbye, even if it hurt to do so,” he smiles solemnly to himself, “because once I finally did, it was liberating.”

“And it was in that moment while talking with Mr. Kim that I’d come to realize that in order to start living for myself, that it was time to let go, that it was time to say goodbye.”

Getting up from the grass, you stare at Seokjin’s grave for one final time, for it was time to accept the cruel fate that had been given in this awful tale. One day you’d be back, that you were sure, but for now all that was left for you to say was....

“Goodbye Seokjin,” you whisper, ready to begin again.

Jimin and Jia stare at you in silence, both having dried tears and disbelief written on their faces. This couldn’t be how the story ended, right?

But it was.

“So you really have nothing to remember him by?” Jia asks, and you point to your forehead.

“Sadly all ll I have is this,” you say, “but for me that’s more than enough.”

You turn your attention towards Jimin, “And so here I am, having told you this story in order to teach you that you shouldn’t let your fears get in the way of allowing yourself to be happy, ” you say, “Because then you’ll live a life of nothing but regret,” and immediately he gets up from his seat.

“Where the hell are you—” Jia’s about to ask him something until you raise a finger, signaling to her to let him be.

“I’m-” he stutters, “I’m going to get my girlfriend back,” he breathes out, squeezing past Jia, “T-Thank you Ms. y/l/n. I mean it,” he says, and you only smile in return.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you whisper to yourself, watching as he hurriedly leaves the diner.

Placing money on the table, Jia smiles at you, “Come on Grandma, let’s go home,” she hugs you once you get up, making a new vow to herself to appreciate those around her and never take anything for granted. Just like Jimin had learned, she had to live for herself.

“Finally! I know I told you that you could stay out as long as you wanted but I didn’t think—” Yeojin is interrupted by the embrace of her daughter arm’s. Confused by the sudden act of affection, she narrows her eyes, “If this is some trick into getting your phone little—”

“Shhh,” Jia complains, “I can’t hug my mom?”

Allowing her skepticism to pass, Yeojin returns the hug, “Movie night?” she asks her daughter and immediately she nods.

You smile at the sight, making your way up the stairs and into your room.

Slowly, you crouch under the bed, pulling out a worn out box from under your bed, grabbing a small flash drive out of it in the process. Placing the now vintage item into the plug-in of your TV, your mind flashes back to that last conversation you had with Mr. Kim.

“Wait,” Mr. Kim stops you from leaving, pulling something out of his suit’s breast pocket, in what seemed to be a flash drive?

Handing you the small item, you look at him confused, “I found it in his room when we moved, not too long after his passing, I’m guessing he must’ve converted it before breaking that old camera of his and well I always carried it around just in case—” he pauses, “Just in case I ever bumped into you.”

You furrow your brows, why was he telling you this now? Why didn’t he look for you instead?

As if reading your mind he says, “Because you’ve finally said your goodbye,” he smiles, “watch this when you’re finally allowed to look back. "

Pressing play, you stare at the screen in front of you.

“Seokjin!” the person behind the camera sighs, “Seokjin!” Mrs. Kim yells again, and the camera begins to shake, presumably because the person was now going down the stairs.

The camera soon pans to the twins, both of them giggling at the cameraman's antics, “Say hiiii,” he cooes. And soon the door he’s recording opens and the camera pans to a 17 year old you, an awkward expression being worn on your face.

“Woah,” he whispers, zooming in on your face.

Your eyes begin to water as you watch the recorded memory.

“Seokjin, but you can call me Jin for short,” he introduces himself, the camera now recording the wall beside him, probably because of how he was carrying it in that moment.

The scene then changes.

“Come on, you know you wanna smileeee,” Jin sings, he closes the camera to your face, ultimately making you smile.

“Well cheers to a new friendship,” Taehyung announces and Jin records you all lifting your hands in the air.

The scene changes again.

“This is her first time eating kongguksu everyone,” Jin announces.

“Who are you even talking to?” you roll your eyes, grabbing the noodles with your chopsticks.

“To the people of the future!”

And you recall how Jin had winked at you that time, causing your crush on him to begin to grow more intense.

Your face gets red as he continues to record you. Taking a slurp of the noodles, you try to cover your face.

“Well what do you think?” he asks.

Your face twists, “Mmmm I don’t know,” you mumble, the taste not exactly being your favorite.

“Boooo!”

You flash him the middle finger.

The scene changes.

“Y/N” the camera begins to move around, and your giggles begin to get louder, “Hand that back to me!” the camera begins to move in an up and down motion, probably because whoever was holding it was running.

Soon the person gets tackled, but not before panning the camera onto Seokjin’s face.

“And the recorder finally gets recorded,” you laugh, and Jin attempts to cover his face, but you’re quick to remove his hands. He awkwardly avoids eye contact, allowing you to record his face.

You feel your breath hitch. It was Jin… the Jin you knew, the Jin you fell in love with. Right there in front of you.

Looking at the camera he quickly makes a kissy face, making you shriek in excitement. “There you have it folks,” you tease him, “Kim Seokjin being the model he is…”

He rolls his eyes, now attempting to reach for the camera.

“Okay okay, that’s enough,” he groans as you relent.

“Smileeee!”

The scene changes for a final time, and you see Jin sitting in his room, facing the camera you presumed he had set up.

“Hello!” he awkwardly waves to the camera, “If you’re watching this it means one, you’ve been snooping around in this room or two, you’re Y/N.”

You feel your heart skip a beat, and your body going numb.

“Ah I don’t know how to start this,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “When I first met you, I thought you were really pretty,” he begins, “and I knew I wanted to be your friend! What I didn’t think was going to happen was that I’d end up really really realllyyyy liking you,” he laughs, “I’ve been trying to tell you for some time now,” his voice cracks, and immediately he begins to cough, trying to make himself sound as manly as possible, “So I thought why not tell you the best way I knew how … through film! That way I’ll let this video do all the work for me,” he smiles.

You laugh at how endearing he was.

“Hopefully you like me too because if not then I feel really bad for the future Jin who’s probably attentively watching your reaction and crossing his fingers. I made this collage of memories using the shitty editing programs we have at the school library so sorry if it’s not exactly the best, but …. I hope this is something you can look back on in the future and be glad I recorded, even if you complained all the time.”

Look at him, predicting the future.

“So… I’ll leave it to the future Jin to handle the rest,” he laughs, “Byeeee!” he waves to the camera. His final goodbye.

5 years later.

“Mom, slow down!” Yeojin instructs, worried about how fast you were trying to walk.

“If you can’t keep up with me, an 80 year old lady, then that should be a concern for you, not for me!” you continue with your daily walk, enjoying the spring weather.

“If you’re not careful you cou—” Yeojin suddenly stops speaking, now having caught up to you. “Mom?” Yeojin asks, concerned as to what you two were staring at with such a shocked expression on your face. Following your gaze, she notices a man staring at you a little girl tugging at his shirt.

“Daddy! I wanna play on the swings!” she pouts at the lack of attention her father was giving her. Immediately you recognize the woman sitting on the bench behind them, remembering her once crying face which was now replaced with a grin as she carried a second (younger) child in her arms.

Slowly the man raises his hand, waving at you with a warm smile on his face.

A single tear falls from your eye as you wave back, your heart swelling at the sight.

And as quick as the moment was, it ended just as fast. As slowly, you began to walk away, while he went on to play with this young daughter. Two strangers crossing paths for a final time.

“Do you know that man?” Yeojin cluelessly asks, confused about the exchange that just happened in front of her.

You nod your head, a smile still on your face, “No,” you chuckle, “No I don’t,” you ultimately say, continuing with your walk.

a/n: whew ! & that’s the end ! if you’ve made it this far then i want to personally thank you! i don’t really expect this story to get many notes well because it’s sad and well ik i personally don’t normally click on major character death fics haha. if you enjoyed this fic then (if you can) please please please leave a comment/review/like/reblog (whichever works best for you) and you can always hop in my ask box for any questions or comments :) im thinking of making an alternative ending for this one day, maybe after i finish the whole tun series, but we’ll see haha. ill see yall next time ! <3

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imagine-lcorp · 4 years

Text

We The Liars (One Shot)

Request

Okay I dont remember if I had requested it. My internet is bad. I just want angsty one where Lena finds out her girlfriend knew Kara is Supergirl and never told her. It becomes a bit of a mess between them. But it wasnt right for her to just tell Lena. (happy ending pls, I know you can wreck me on angst alone 😂)

A/N:I know I’m not very good at schedules but I’m still around!! Now, here’s another beautigul angsty request for u guys, I hope u enjoy it! and I hope this lives again to your expectations. Love y’all!!!!!

Lena Luthor x Fem!R//Word Count: 2,169 -------------------------------------------------------

They mocked you.

She could still hear her brother's voice.

Humiliated you.

His tongue distilling lies even in his final moments.

Betrayed you.

Every word punctuated in her mind like a blow from a sledgehammer.

Every.

It was bile.

Last.

It was poison.

One.

It was the truth Lena had been so blind to see.

Lena kept looking at the picture of you on her desk, trying to feel nothing as she drank the last of the scotch in her hand. She swallowed the hot woody liquid down and, in a sharp movement, smacked down the glass over the picture. She kept looking at the shattered frame, at your faces and smiles behind the broken glass. Lena had to let out a bitter chuckle as she thought how much that image resembled your relationship. Fake smiles, broken trust. A mirage now shattered by the truth you had been hiding.

Did you know? Of course, you did. Since when? Probably from the beginning. Was it all a scheme? A way to get closer to her? To keep an eye on her? Most certainly. The questions swirled around Lena's mind over and over and over since she had listened to her brother's last confession. They hadn't left her head, accompanying her while she tried to act as if everything was okay. As if she hadn't shot Lex, as if you hand't keep her in the dark about Kara and Supergirl, as if her so-called friends hadn't lied to her face all this time.

Did you even really love her?

That had been the question that bothered her the most. She hadn't been able to put it aside as she recalled every moment spent with you. Every look, every kiss and every touch, every tear and laugh, every word. All the things you had gone through couldn't just be a lie but, the more she though about it, the more she seemed to convince herself of the answer. Did you love her? No, she didn't think you did.

Your relationship had been nothing more than a means to protect Kara. Supergirl. The Girl of Steel and Great Champion of the Earth. From the hands of a Luthor.

Hold your friends close but your enemies closer.

What a fool she had been.

You entered her office as if summoned by her troubled thoughts, locking eyes on her and closing the door behind you, smiling sheepishly as you did. If that smile disarmed her every time before, now it was for her an undeniable sign of your deception. It made her heart shrink while she pushed her mind to go faster. You would not deceive her anymore.

"(Y/N), what are you doing here?" She asked. The tone of her voice never letting any of her internal turmoil show.

"I came to see if you weren't so busy." You approached her desk without losing your smile. "Jess let me in, so I could steal you for a moment or the rest of the evening if possible."

"Weren't you busy with your own home project? I didn't think you would finish it so fast." She leaned further in her chair, raising her chin towards you.

"I got some help." You reached the front of her desk. "Kara came by earlier and helped me with it. We finished it in no time."

"Kara uh? Of course. Always there to help, isn't she?" She saw you frown slightly.

If you hadn't noticed her somehow cold demeanor, now you did.

"Well, you know her."

She turned her chair towards the window at those words and looked at the city skyline, so she wouldn't have to look at you.

"Do I?" Lena couldn't hide the hurt in her words this time.

You were about to walk to her side when you finally noticed what was on her desk. The sight of the empty glass and broken picture made every muscle in your body tense.

It could have been nothing, a slip of the hand, an unfortunate accident. A broken frame meaning nothing but a broken frame. But you couldn't deny the strangeness of it all. Lena's attitude, her reluctance to look at you. You would have wanted to blame it on the alcohol, as it was obvious she had been drinking before you arrived. Even though Lena never drank more than a finger of her scotch and she knew how to hold her alcohol better than most.

Maybe it was the tension from the past days, as you knew they had been quite difficult for her. Having your older brother on the verge of death, only to find later that it was all a scam to give himself superpowers and then die anyway in a last attempt to destroy the Supers, was not something one could recover from so easily. Lena had told you the essentials about what had happened, but the Danvers sisters had filled you in about everything else, seeing as you had been worried to death about Lena and her lack of communication thereafter.

After Alex and Kara explained how things had gone down, it only reaffirmed your belief that a lot of trouble could have been avoided if they had just told Lena what was truly happening. You also didn't like having to keep things from Lena but after such incident, and considering that Kara felt herself responsible for Lex's death, none of you knew how she would react to the truth then. So you agreed to keep Kara's secret for a little longer, believing Kara would tell her everything soon enough.

So you made yourself believe to that maybe this was Lena still trying to come to terms with what she had to go through. That behind her pragmatic and stoic attitude, she wasn't taking things as good as she made it look. Maybe, this time, all she needed was a bit of comfort.

"Lena?" You rounded her desk with careful steps, trying to reach her, but then Lena spoke again and you knew it was none of it.

"All this time." You stopped as you heard her voice, low and harsh. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

"Find out what?" The question coming out slowly from your mouth.

"That Kara has been helping you with her super speed? That she has been indeed helping people by flying around town? That all this time I've been friends with the greatest heroine of National City?" She chuckled and shook her head. "No, not friends."

"You know." You stood motionless, swallowing hard, as Lena turned her chair towards you.

"Yes, I know, (Y/N)." She rose from her seat. Her eyes looking at you with a contained rage, so dangerous it made you flinch and want to look away but you simply couldn't allow yourself to move.

This was what Kara had always feared and you could see now why. Your mind was racing, trying to think of something to say, whatever word that could ease Lena's anger but you knew better. It was useless to try and dodge the conversation, to deny it all and lie again. No, you couldn't keep doing that. Not anymore. Not to Lena.

"Lena, I'm s-"

"Save it." She grabbed her glass from the table and rushed past you to the bar before you could even finish muttering your apology. "I have had enough of those already."

You watched as she lifted a bottle and poured herself another drink. "When did she tell you?"

"Oh, so she was planning on telling me someday?"

"W-wait." You walked towards her, more confused than before. "If Kara didn't tell you then..."

"Does it matter? It wasn't Kara, or Alex, or any of your friends. Or you, anyway." She put the bottle down with a loud thud and grabbed her glass again. "You just knew and lied to me."

"That was never my intention." You tried.

"Your intention? And what was it, (Y/N)?" She turned back to you, taking a generous sip of her scotch and leaving it again at the table bar.

"Wasn't it to keep me from finding the truth? So I didn't know who was behind Supergirl and she could have one less thing to worry about? So she could keep an eye on me and if I turned to be the same as Lex she could stop me right away? Isn't that why you even approached me in the first place?"

"No, no, that's not it." You fumbled over the words. "Please, let me explain."

"Explain what?" Lena could already feel the tears threatening to come from her eyes. "That no matter what I told you about how much it hurt to have someone you love lie and betray you, you were doing exactly that with me."

"I never wanted to do that to you." You took a few unsure steps forward. "I wanted to tell you, may times but it wasn't my secret to tell. I couldn't. I had no right."

"But I had!" She snapped. Her voice filled with an ache and outrage so strong it made you take a step back. "I had the right to know."

"Lena, I know you-"

"No! Whatever you think you know, you don't!" She closed the distance between you. Each step making you feel smaller. "You used me and manipulated me, time after time. I helped you, protected you, proved you over and over that I wasn't like the rest of my family, trying to do better for our friends! For you! Don't you understand what you have done? What I have done?"

All her anger watered down as a couple of tears started to fall down from her eyes.

"God, what I wish I hadn't done." She closed her eyes.

"What do you mean?" You forced the words out, feeling the dread rise in your chest. "Lena, what did you do?"

She opened her eyes again. Her next words loud enough so you could hear. "I killed Lex."

"That's not..." You shook your head, as if the meaning of her words had nor registered in your brain. "Kara said he died after he fell with the Lexosuit. You told me the same. The fall killed him."

"I lied." She said. Realization washed upon you like a bucket of cold water and you felt each word after that like a strike to your guts. "He escaped, and I knew where he would go. I was waiting for him with my gun ready and I...I knew when I saw him that if he lived, you would never be safe. So I forced myself to pull the trigger. I shot my own brother and watched him die believing I was doing the right thing. All while his last words were about you. About how you mocked me, and humiliated and betrayed me."

"No, no." You repeated while looking at Lena, searching frantically for anything that could tell you maybe this was Lena trying to blame herself. But her eyes gave away nothing but the truth. "Lena."

"You lied to me!" She took a step back as you tried to reach her.

"Lena, please." You closed the distance between you, grabbing Lena by the shoulders. "Listen to me."

"Why? Why?" Her voice started to lose its strength as she repeated the question. "Why did you have to lie to me?"

Heartbreaking was a small word to describe what was happening at that moment. You had never seen Lena this way, so broken, and you were to blame for this too.

"Everything I said, everything I didn't, I was a fool for thinking I was too doing the right thing. I know we should have told you. I should have told you. If I had known what would happen I-" You felt your throat tighten. In protecting your friend, you had hurt Lena, who had always proved herself worthy, who had always done the impossible for you and who had lost yet another person she loved. All because you had said nothing. "I should have told you."

"Why does everyone I love lie to me?" Lena couldn't contain the tears anymore.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You repeated as you pulled her towards you. "Please, please, believe me. Please."

Lena let you pull your arms around her, with your body embracing her in a tight hug that almost seemed to hold her together and let herself cry like never before. She would have wanted to scream, to lash out, at you for lying to her, at your friends for keeping it all a secret, at her brother for using the truth to hurt her.

There was so much she didn't know yet but she decided to find all the answers to all the questions she had. She would know the truth and then, she thought, she could think of what to do next. And then, one question pushed through her mind.

Did you love her?

As you keep holding her, so close she imagined you would merge, Lena wanted to believe you did.

Because how could that be a lie?

#lena luthor imagine #lena luthor imagines #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x female reader #lena luthor x you #lena x reader #lena x you #Female reader #fem!reader #fem reader #one shot #request #we the liars #angst #angst with a hopeful ending #?

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v-hope · 5 years

Text

You're his celebrity crush and meet at an awards show

Pairings: OT7 x International Artist!Reader

Genre: Fluff, crack ig

Request: "hii ! i love your work and i've been having major feels with the boys at the bbmas so i was wondring if you could write a reaction for u being an artist they have a crush on and they meet you at an awards show and it's all cute and stuff?? 💜"

A/N: I really loved writing this! I'm just gonna do what I do with Shipping Material, for those of you who don't know hahah:

“English”

«Korean»

Kim Seokjin

“You know BTS?”

You couldn't help but giggle at the man's words, nodding your head right after, for there was really no other answer to that.

When you had gone to the restroom earlier that night, only to find people waiting outside of it because of how full it was, you had considered turning around and coming back some time later, but it just so happened that no other than Kim Seokjin had arrived two seconds after you, and had decided not to let his chance to talk to you slip away; even if he didn't have Namjoon to translate for him.

So now here you were, both of you not even bothering on lining up anymore, and instead moving aside not to block the way.

“Who doesn't know BTS at this point?” you answered after having uselessly tried to conceal your smile, raising one of your eyebrows and earning a proud yet shy smile from Jin. “You know Y/N?” it was your turn to cheekily ask.

He stretched his arms out before folding them over his chest as he leaned against the wall. “Ah, yes” he tried to play it cool, “very beautiful” he nodded like it was a fact, bringing immediate heat to your face, “voice… yeah” he emphasized, holding one of his thumbs up.

You gazed down in embarrassment, allowing another laugh to escape your throat – an action of yours he found to be quite adorable.

“I'd have to say the same about Kim Seokjin then” your eyes locked with his once more, ones that had sparkled at the fact that you actually knew his name. “10/10 vocals and looks”.

At that, he unsuccessfully tried to erase the smile that had already formed on his lips – his ears turning a furious red.

“Me? Oh, no” he denied, waving his hands in front of him, “no... you are best”.

Out of your mouth came what was a mix of a scoff and a laugh. “What? No way, hear me out–”

Who would've thought your first interaction ever would turn into a ‘no, you're better’ contest. At least you made him comfortable enough to fight you from the beginning.

Min Yoongi

“You mind if I join you?”

Yoongi's head snapped up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, his eyes opening wide in shock when he realised he had no other than you in front of him.

Being too caught up in the sight of you, he could do nothing but absently shake his head, moving a little to the side for you to sit next to him.

“Why are you here and not inside?” you wondered in an attempt of making small talk.

“Um, air” he motioned around.

“It does get a little suffocating inside, huh?” you leaned back to take a better look at him.

He simply nodded his head, gazing down to his lap before a small smile took over his factions.

“You're sure I'm not bothering you?” you worried, noticing how quiet he was. “I didn't know you'd be here, I can leave if–”

“I'm just…” he interrupted you, looking up to lock eyes with you, “shy...” he admitted sheepishly.

Not only because he was insecure about his English, but also because it was you.

Your lips curved up as you stared fondly at him. “Okay then” you looked ahead, “let's just stay quiet for a while if that makes you feel better”.

So the two of you did just that; remaining silent for a little while, doing nothing but enjoy each other's company. Anyone who saw you would've thought it was such an awkward scene, but it was the complete opposite, actually. It was weird to find a stranger you could be so comfortable around with. It was nice, for both of you.

«Yah! Yoongi, we've been looking for you everywhere» the quiet atmosphere was disrupted faster than you'd have wanted to by Seokjin. “Oh, hello…” he awkwardly greeted you, receiving a smile from you before his eyes were back on Yoon. «They're announcing the Top Artist Award, come on!»

At the sound of that, Yoongi stood up immediately. “Sorry, I have to go, uh– award...” he spoke softly, almost scared of messing up his English.

Biting your lip, you squinted your eyes as you looked up at him. “Go get ‘em, tiger” you encouraged him with a grin, watching for the first time in person his signature gummy smile.

Thinking for a second before turning around to leave, he digged his hands in his pockets, staring down to you. “You don't... wanna come?”

“Um…” your eyes travelled from him to the door. “You know what? Yeah, I do” you stood up as well, a smirk forming on your lips before you added: “I don't wanna miss all the madness when you guys win”.

If you hadn't won him over already by being understanding about his shyness, with that vote of confidence you sure as hell had.

Jung Hoseok

“Y/N!” he enthusiastically shouted the answer he had been saying over and over every single time the interviewers asked them who they wanted to meet that evening.

Only this time you heard him.

Your head had snapped up at the sound of your name as you walked past them a few meters behind on the red carpet, looking around before your eyes locked with the guy's who was currently interviewing BTS.

“Y/N, hi!” he waved for you to go over there. “Come here, someone wants to meet you!”

Not only did you freeze at that invitation, but so did Hoseok, earning loud laughs from his members as you got closer to them.

“Hi, guys” you shyly greeted with a smile, receiving instant cheerful replies before you stood by Hobi's side, since Joon had stepped aside for you to be in the middle.

Hoseok's eyes were soon to lock with yours – a shy smile parting his lips as he quietly admired your factions, having you unconsciously do the same.

“So, J-Hope right here just told us he was excited to meet you” the interviewer informed you with a smirk, causing Hoseok to tilt his head and turn to his friends as he complained in embarrassment.

Your reaction, however, was something Hobi did not expect at all; for not only did your lips part in what the thought was the brightest, most beautiful smile he had ever seen on you, but you had also covered your face with your hands, letting out a giggle that was soon followed by one of his own.

“Ah, don't tell me that” you told the guy holding the mic in front of you, “he's my favourite, my heart just did a thing”.

«Did she, did she say I'm her favourite?» Hoseok turned to ask Joon with pouty, incredulous lips; later giggling like a little boy on Christmas when their leader confirmed his beliefs. «She did?!» he covered his smiling mouth with his hand.

“Aw, that's so cute!” the other guy gushed at your previous words, for neither of you had any idea of what Hobi's previous gushing had been about. “So you'll be cheering for him tonight?”

“Of course!” you turned to the seven guys. “I mean, I'll be chanting for all of you guys, but if you hear someone screaming ‘J-Hope’ at the top of their lungs, that's probably me”.

And later that night, when he did indeed hear someone screaming his name somewhere in the first rows during his part, his heart sped up uncontrollably, and not precisely because of all the dancing around.

Kim Namjoon

“Oh, f– I'm so sorry” he apologized as soon as his foot had stepped on your long dress, causing you to stumble over.

Luckily for you, just like he almost made you fall, he had also been the one to make sure to catch you – his hands being quick to hold you firmly by your arms, and staying there for a little longer so you could regain your balance.

“It's okay” you let him know with a shy smile, “I've been stepping on it all evening as well” at that, Joon exhaled the air he had been holding, gently letting go of you for once and for all. “It's such an awful, uncomfortable dress. I hate it”.

“Oh” he pursed his lips, eyeing up and down the dress he believed so perfectly hugged your body, “this might not help at all, but I think you look beautiful”.

It did help. Quite a lot, actually – that simple statement itself being enough for a shiver to run down your spine.

“Thank you” you replied, feeling yourself once again becoming shy. “I'm Y/N, by the way”.

“I know” he answered with an obvious tone, later letting out a breathy, nervous laugh, at the realisation of how he had exposed himself. “I um, I'm Namjoon”.

“I know” you repeated his previous words, biting down on your lower lip in response to his dimples showing up as he smiled.

Just like that, your manager called you from the other side of the hall, for you to go change into the outfit you'd be wearing for your performance.

“Seems like I'm finally getting out of this dress” your voice came out with a tone of relief, grabbing the sides of it and pulling it a little bit up so that you could walk properly. “It was nice getting stepped on by you, see you later!”

“It was my pleasure, I hope we can do this again sometime soon!” he played along as you walked away, smiling widely after watching you tilt your head back to let a laugh escape your throat.

Clumsiness? That he could always count on.

Park Jimin

Taehyung sneakily nudged Jimin as you got closer to greet him, for he had frozen on his place as soon as he heard you call them from the other side of the hallway – his eyes in absolute awe as he watched you hug his members one by one.

And when you finally got to him, he didn't really know which one of you was shaking more.

“Sorry” you apologized to all of them once you had pulled away from him, knowing well enough they had all noticed your body slightly tremble, “I'm really nervous, I'm a huge fan of you guys”.

A unison “aw” came out of their mouths.

“Don't be nervous” to everyone's surprise, it was Jimin the one to speak up first, with what you thought was the cutest of pronunciations.

“Yeah” Namjoon backed up his friend, “we're huge fans too, so we're just as nervous, to be honest” he laughed, making you laugh in a way that had Jimin staring with even more admiration.

“Yeah!” Jimin spoke up again, “your voice!” he paused, pressing his lips together and effusively nodding his head to let you know how much he liked it, bringing instant heat to your face as you blisfully thanked him.

He wanted to say something else, to talk more to you, but you were interrupted by your manager tapping your shoulder to hurry you up.

“Oh, um…” you looked around, “I wish I had more time but my performance's about to start” you stuck your lower lip out. “I just wanted to wish you guys the best of lucks later tonight, you're gonna kill it”.

“Ah, thank you!” they all answered once again, with grateful smiles.

“Wait, let's take a picture!” Joon proposed out loud after one of their staff members showed him a camera.

You didn't have to think even once before accepting, turning around to look in the same direction as them. On the other hand, Jimin didn't even try and stop his legs from moving closer to you in the middle, quietly asking Hoseok to move over and let him be by your side – placing his hand over your shoulders without getting to touch you as he smiled brighter than the camera flash itself.

And so when you turned around to say goodbye, he opened his arms to quickly hug you once more before you took off to the stage.

«Aw, she's so beautiful, how's that even possible» he gushed to his members, receiving multiple amused smiles when his smile turned into a pout. «Why'd she have to leave so soon?»

Little did he know that was far from being the last time you met each other.

Kim Taehyung

He was dying to talk to you.

The moment they were guided to their seats and he noticed one of them would be sitting next to you, he had rushed over there to claim it as his. However, just as much as he was dying to say something to you, his confidence was betraying him.

From time to time, he'd turn to you with the intention of starting a conversation in between performances, but nothing would come out of his mouth, turning his head in the opposite direction before he could make a fool of himself. You had said “hi” to each other already, why couldn't he bring himself to say something else?

It was when he noticed you were asking someone for some water, that he decided to take his chance – picking up the bottle of water under his seat to hand it to you.

“Have it” he spoke after your dumbfounded eyes travelled from the item to fix on his. “Is not… open…” his eyebrows knitted together as he looked up, wondering if he had managed to make his point clear.

An understanding smile curved up your lips, taking the bottle from his hands and thanking him before you opened it and took a sip.

Say something else. Tell her she looks pretty. Make small talk. Anything. He repeated over and over in his head, yet nothing came out. So, he smiled once more and turned his head back away from you, internally beating himself up for it.

It was you, later that night, the one who made his wishes come true; when you noticed how one of his members had taken away from him the popcorns he had been munching on, leaving him sulking with a pout on his lips.

“Here” you handed him yours, receiving a baffled expression from him. “You can have mine”.

In the end, what happened was that he did not take yours, but accepted to share them instead – leaning over to your side and finally relaxing next to you as the two of you ate and commented on the show, which lead to lots of laughter througout the night.

Never had he ever thought he'd thank Jeongguk for stealing his food.

Jeon Jeongguk

“Don't be so nervous” you tried to encourage him with a small smile, having his eyes move up from the paper note he was tightly holding to focus on you – a smile of his own curving up his lips as well.

“My English…” he begun, trying to translate the right words in his head, “is not... good”.

“It's pretty good, actually” you once again tried to make him gain some confidence.

Neither of you understood why they had settled things up this way – each one of the BTS members having to present an award with someone else, instead of doing it all together like they always did. In Jeongguk's case, he had been paired up with you, which is why here you were now, both of you sitting backstage, going over your dialogue a few times as you waited for your turn to come.

And he didn't know if it had been a blessing or a curse, for he had gotten to meet you, the one artist he had been crushing on for years… but, at the same time, there was a high probability of him messing up at some point and make a complete fool of himself in front of you.

“You know what?” you spoke after taking in his uncertain eyes. With a raised eyebrow, he let you know you had his attention. “If it makes you feel any better, I can make a fool of myself in front of everyone”.

His eyes opened wide. “W-What?”

“Yeah” you nodded your head, “I'll just mess up the words or something and then you'll have nothing to worry about!”

“No, no” he shook his head, holding his hands out as if to signal for you to stop. “You don't– have to…”

“Oh, I will do it, my friend” you raised an eyebrow in determination. “I already thought of it, there's no turning back now”.

That serious statement of yours managed to get a breathy laugh out of him.

You were his crush for a reason, but knowing you were willing to sacrifice your public image just to help him out with his nervousness? He might as well have fallen in love right then and there.

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rosesinmars · 5 years

Text

TONGUE TIED, YUNGBLUD, DOMINIC HARRISON

___ this one is with Dominic and it is an au! Dom is not famous in this one, at least not famous as a singer, but he still is known as YUNGBLUD anyway. Dom is a out law in the eyes of the society. This imagine is related to the Tongue Tied video clip, but I took some ideas (and the pictures below) from hope for the underrated youth, not only the song but the video as well. hope u enjoy! ___

The present year was 2022. And it was all so different.

I would be making an understatement saying that it has been a bad year. It's more like it's been a bad start of a decade.

I can still remember those golden times before the clock turned midnight and the year turned to 2020. The new year's festivities were sabotaged by young people, who interrupted the countdown to speak their minds. All around the world, groups with teenagers and young adults got together to manifest themselves trying to improve a better world. A world that one day would be ruled by them. And even though that they all knew that the politicians and major part of the society itself didn't wanted to hear what they had to say, it would never cross their minds that the SILENCERS project would burst that night, or ever.

That night, the Elders reunited themselves and voted about the Silencers project, due to the the youth riots. The Elders were the leaders of the most powerful countries. The major part, incapable to control the young part of their population, voted in favour of the project and the ones that didn't, end up being beheaded.

And with that, the militarized police force called 'Silencers' marched under the distressed orders of the Elders, rounding up and muting all who crossed their path.

It was a real-life nightmare. Yes I was there, and I got caught. But no one ever got to know about that. Because, at the end of the day, I was the only child of two of the Elders, and what would the other Elders think if I was caught in the middle of the Anarchists?

Anyway, I never thought I would be caught up with the Anarchists. As daughter of Elders, I was taught that anything that they said were facts that shouldn't ever be contested. That was until I met him.

I can still remember his shining green eyes looking at me, so desperate as the Silencers wrapped their nasty hands around me, stopping me from running away with him. The Silencers would never tape my mouth like they did with all the other Anarchists that they caught, due to the direct order of my parents, but God knows what they would do to me. The militarized police force hated the Anarchists. They were raised and trained like that. Completely brain washed.

Before I could be taken away by them, I looked at Dominic once again, our final goodbye. His eyes were stuck in me. I could see the last trace of rebellion in the green of his eyes, right after he turned away from the other Anarchists that were running away, trying to save themselves, as he started to run toward me. I shout as much as I could for him to run away, to save himself, but he would never listen to it. Would that be the last act of defiance of the great YUNGBLUD? The well-known out-law, the second of the leader of the Anarchists. Would he give it all away just for a ride or die type of love?

"I don't want anything to happen to you tonight, I couldn't live with that." he said to me in the afternoon before the new year's night, staring deeply into my eyes, both of his hands cupping my face.

"It will not happen a thing to me, but I will be there by your side. I always will, 'til the end of the line. Ride or die, remember?" I reassured him.

"Ride or die." he assured.

And this time, it probably would be die, and ride nevermore. But never separate. Together until the end of the line, just like we promised. And that was the last time I saw him.

It was never revealed what happened to the Anarchists that were caught that night. Everyone thought they were dead. The Anarchists refused, as always, to lost their hopes. The locked ups couldn't be dead. They just couldn't.

Since the night of the riots, my parents restricted my routines as must as they could. Always keeping me under their sight. But I needed a way out, or at least a way to get in contact with the Anarchists. It wasn't easy at first, but I end up coming up with an idea. And that was the day that I introduced my new boyfriend to my parents.

Every rebellious group needed an insider, and who could be a better insider than their own leader.

Mello was a exemplary citizen in everybody's eyes. The Elders loved him, because he always defended their beliefs. And that was his perfect coverage. No one, I say, not a single soul, not even in their wildest dreams, would ever think about Mello as the leader of the Anarchists. But that's where they all were completely wrong. And now, having a free passport for the house of two of the Elders? That was the greatest made he ever achieved. And all thanks to me.

(___it's Mello because of Marshmello. Mello would be his real name in this imagine. And yes I do know that his real name actually is Christopher)

Mello and I weren't actually together, it was just part of the plan to get him into my house and for me to be all in about the plans of the Anarchists. Mello and my Dominic were best friends, and so, Mello wanted as much as me to set our boy free, this if he was still alive.

Dominic was strong-minded, the type of boy that would never give up, he would fight until his last breath, and Mello and I were really hoping that he wouldn't had have his last breath yet.

As time went by, Mello and my parents got closer than ever, and that was perfect. As Mello tried to manifest all the same intentions and ideals than my parents, they would look at him as if he was the promising future. And then the day came.

The Elders that were my creators finally invited Mello to a politician meeting. They were interested in include Mello in the Elders, but my brain screamed that it could all just be a trap. But my parents did loved Mello, so it would be all okay, right? My brain couldn't just stop overthink, and I could only wish that Dominic was here with me, no one knew how to keep me calm has he did. But we were doing this for him, to save him, and the others. Maybe this one final push of unity could be the hope we all need.

So, the day which Mello would finally meet the other Elders had arrived, and that was the day when the Anarchists would stike again. With my parents out of home with Mello, I had no problem with escaping home and join the other Anarchists. I would be leading the riot this time.

"Dominic would be proud of you." Mello said to me.

"He will be. He will be." I assured.

Mello also explained me that he and my parents would enter by the back of the precinct owned by the Elders, so he could become already slightly acquainted with the space, and so, their first stop would probably be were the locked up Anarchists would be.

As planned, we all were ready. We were as much hidden as we could, and we would strike when Mello showed up with my parents. We will have the gates open for them, and we will take that chance to enter. Mello will joined us as soon as we got in. I was holding his Marshmello helmet in my hand, the one he always used to not get recognised.

The time finally came up, and everyone around me tensed up knowing that was either the beginning of a new era, or the end of the free minds.

We ran inside as soon as the three of them entered. I ran to my parents handcuffing my mother and father, the other Anarchists covering me with their guns. I lead my way to Mello, making a small reverence, playing with him, before handing him the helmet. My parents eyes were full on rage, I pointed them my guns:

- The locked up Anarchists, now.

- You wouldn't have the guts. We are your parents. — my father said, and I instantly shot one of his feet.

- I do have the guts. And you may be my blood, but you're not my family. — I looked at Mello and the others and they smiled at me. — Now, lead the way. - I demanded, knocking the guns in their heads.

Soon we were in front of the filthy cells where they kept our people locked up. Me and Mello were leading the way now, shooting the locks and freeing everybody and smiling while seeing everyone meeting again with their loved ones. But I didn't yet. Dominic needed to be here. He has to. For me.

I shouted his name every time I unlocked a cell, but I didn’t got a thing until now, this 'till someone grabbed my arm as I was walking by one of the cells. It was a young girl, a ten years old maybe. My eyes were apologetic before I ripped the metal tape muting the child's mouth, she didn't even screamed. She was so strong already.

- I'm so sorry, everything will be fine now. — I said to the girl in front of me, holding her hand.

- He's here. The boy you're looking for. — the little girl said and my eyes instantly widened.

- Please... — I pleaded.

She dragged me into the cell and there was him. His mouth gruesomely shut, but still sitting on the ground helping a young boy with some bruises.

- Dominic... — I whispering, not believing in my own eyes. — Dom...

And his green eyes met with mine, and it was like everything had stopped around us.

I shivered and ran to him, falling into my knees next to him, and throwing myself into his harms.

- I'm so so so sorry, I'm so sorry it took me so long, please forgive me. — I started to cry, and as carefully as I could, I also removed the metal tape from his mouth. — I missed you so much.

- There's wasn't a day I didn't believed that you would come for us, I could never doubt you. — he said, his voice failing for the long time he had been muted. — I love you so much.

- I love you, Dom. — I answered back, while he dried my tears.

I hugged him again, fearing that I could hurt him with a kiss, but soon enough he carefully connected our lips together, and it made it seems like the earth finally got back on its tracks. Everything was falling in place, and I finally had my life back, and I could see it in the green of my lover's eyes.

The Anarchists got their voices back, the Elders were defeated, the Silencers would now fall, and the people were now free to speak their minds and to enjoy their free will.

And this, all thanks to that underrated group of out-laws, with only clarity engulfed inside their eyes, untactful tongues and insightful minds. They now lie here, been torn apart a couple thousand times. But through the fires they arisen unharmed, untouched, unused. Screaming nothing but anthems for this UNDERRATED YOUTH.

the end.

21.Nov.19

#dominic harrison #yungblud #dom harrison #dominic #YUNGBLUB #hope for the underrated youth #tongue tied #tongue tied together #marshmello #yungblud x reader #yungblud fanfic #yungblub imagine #dominic harrison x reader #dominic harrison fanfic #dominic harrison imagine #jp cappelletty imagine #rosesinmars

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dear-yunho · 5 years

Text

The Mistake

Pairing : Jeong Yunho (ATEEZ) x Female!Reader Genre : Angst/Fluff Word Count : 3,595 Author’s Note : This was a really quick and random write up, so there are likely mistakes and parts that make no sense but nontheless.. here it is.

“Y/n?” Groggily you pulled your phone away from your ear, checking the time displayed at the top of the screen. 2:38am. “San? Why the hell are you calling me at almost 3 in the damn morning?” You groaned, pressing the speaker back against your ear so you could hear his response. You’d barely gotten to sleep more than two hours ago, mind a turbulent blend of every tiny thing you had to stress about at the moment. School. Family. Friends. Hiding the fact that you knew and were friends with Ateez from the rest of the world. Not something that a normal 20 year old had to worry about, but something that was an everyday worry for you non the less. San cleared his throat, speaking much quieter when he started talking again. “Well.. Yunho is..” Your throat tightened at the mention of Yunho. Jeong Yunho, the tall dark haired boy with puppy like eyes who you’d had a crush on for as long as you could remember. The boy who had, inadvertently crushed your heart just two months ago. The one who you’d begged the rest of your friends not to talk to you about, because your heart couldn’t take the pain of thinking about him after what had happened that night. You squeezed your eyes closed tightly, only half hearing the next words San said in a hushed voice. “He’s really upset Y/n, he thinks that he did something wrong because you haven’t been talking to him.” He did do something wrong. “He didn’t do anything.” You breathed, knowing it was a lie but not caring. San was quiet for a moment, a soft sigh buffering through the speaker. “I don’t think that’s true but either way, whatever happened, shouldn’t you at least talk about it with someone? Even if it isn’t him, you know that any one of us are always here for you.” You appreciated the thought, truly. But you could barely even let your thoughts wander back to that night, let alone relive it to one of them. Tears welled behind your closed lids and you drew in a few shaking breaths until you felt confident enough to speak. “I can’t, San.” No matter how ready you’d thought you were, your voice still cracked at the end, making you feel small and worthless. You couldn’t even hide your emotions from San, how did he or any of them expect you to be able to face Yunho again without him figuring everything out in seconds? He may be an energetic ball of energy and good looks, but the most attractive part about him was his intelligence. “Y/n…” You could almost hear the sad pout in San’s voice and picture the way he’d have his knees pulled close to his chest, chin resting on the tops of them and hand clutching the phone as tight as he could to his ear. You could feel the sympathy and love from him like a beacon through the phone and it only made you miss him, miss them all, ten thousand times more. “I need sleep.” You choked, hurriedly wrenching the phone from your ear and hitting the end call button before throwing the device as far across the room as you could. It landed with a crunch of glass that made you wince in the corner of the room, close to your doorway. Despite knowing you’d probably just completely broken it, you could bring yourself to regret throwing it as you curled up in a sad ball below your covers. You didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. “Are you hungry?” You looked up in surprise at the sound of Yunho’s familiar upbeat voice, his tall figure leaning against your doorway, a take out bag held up in the air. He’d positioned it almost as if it were a shield, his wide brown eyes peeking out past it at you, as though he expected you to reject his company. You smiled, nodding him in and shifting some of the books on your bed to give him a space to sit. You needed to study, desperately. But there was nothing in hell that could make you turn Yunho away. He grinned, looking somewhat relieved and plopping himself with his normal energy beside you, humming and shoving the bag of food into your hands. A mouth watering scent rose from it, drawing a groan of hunger from your lips and a gurgle from your stomach as you wrenched it open and peered excitedly into it. “Yunho!” You beamed happily, dragging the tub of bulgogi out. His mouth quirked up as you dug into it, briefly forgetting about the piles of assignments you still needed to complete this week. “How did you get in by the way?” You asked through a mouthful of beef and rice, eyebrows raised at him. “You left the door unlocked.” He said pointedly, eyes glancing to the doorway of your room, through which you could just see the front door that entered your small apartment. You grimaced, shaking your head. Every time you entered your apartment you told yourself to make sure you locked it behind you. And almost every time, you still forgot. “You should really get an electronic lock, it’s safer.” Yunho reprimanded you softly, reaching out with his slender fingers tor ruffle your hair. You ducked out of his reach, resenting the brotherly gesture. You’d given up on putting any belief in your feelings for Yunho being returned long ago, but that didn’t mean you were going to make it any easier for him not to see you. “Can’t afford it.” You swallowed your mouthful and offered him the nearly empty container, smiling when he let out a small laugh and accepted it, scooping a small amount out into his mouth before handing it back to you. He chewed silently, watching you as you grabbed for your books again now that you were done being distracted by food, trying your best to focus on reading the information on the page you were up to. But his gaze on you was as distracting as a thousand bells going off at once and you found yourself glancing up at him curiously, trying to figure out why he was watching you so intently. “Yunho, what?” You finally blurted in exasperation, closing your book and giving him your attention. He blinked in surprise, a half hearted smile flitting across his lips, his cheeks tinging pink. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you..” He said apologetically, lifting his broad shoulders in a shrug. You raised your eyebrows, not entirely believing the statement but choosing not to chase it up. He clearly had something on his mind, though what it could possibly be to make him act this strangely, you had no idea. “Yunho?” You asked quietly after a few more minutes of silence, reaching out to poke his side when he continued to stare at you, his eyes completely unfocused. It was unsettling to see him like this, he was normally so bubbly that it gave you a headache. He shook his head at your touch, offering you another one of those half smiles, still looking faraway. “What’s wrong?” You persisted, shuffling closer to him. You couldn’t help it, though every nerve in your body screamed at you to maintain distance between you, because it meant something different to you than it did to him, every other part of you ached to comfort him however you could. You knew he took immense comfort out of closeness to people, out of caring touches. On more than one occasion he’d dropped his head onto your lap and demanded you untangle his hair while he practised his lines for one of their songs. He’d never known how much it killed you and satisfied you at the same time and you’d never told him. You didn’t ever plan on telling him how he felt. Having all of his friends know was embarrassing enough and you just weren’t ready to risk losing his friendship over some stupid unreciprocated feelings. He looked at you carefully, biting his lip. You’d have to be blind and not secretly madly in love with him to miss the shine of tears in his wide eyes. “I think I made a mistake.” He admitted in a tiny voice, his bottom lip beginning to quiver. You frowned, reaching for him and hugging him tightly. “Whatever it was or is, I’ll help you through it.” You murmured into his shoulder, pulling away to look at him. You could have ripped out your heart and given it to him in that moment, watching a single tear slip from the corner of his eye and track its way down to his chin, his face contorting in something similar to pain. He clapped a hand over his mouth, turning his head so you couldn’t see, sniffles escaping in muffled puffs from below his fingers. Your heart ached in your chest and you had to force your hands to remain at your sides, not on his face to turn him back towards you. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to hide from you, you of all people couldn’t ever see anything but the best of him even in his worst moments. But that would be too much and this wasn’t about you, it was about him. “You can’t help me this time.” He whispered finally, turning back to look at you, his eyes still swimming with tears and his cheeks soaked. His forehead was furrowed and he swept his fingers over his eyes, as if that would stop any more tears falling. In spite of the action, a few more sped down his cheeks. “Wanna bet?” You murmured, finally giving in and reaching out to thumb away the remaining shine of tears glistening on his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes closed, shaking his head fervently, making you retract your hand. “Seriously Y/n, you can’t. Unless you know how to make me stop loving someone that is never going to see me.. you can’t.” He sighed out, glancing at you. You could have sworn that time froze around you as your heart shattered in your chest, your lips parting in both shock and pain. “You..you’d be surprised.” You choked out. You shouldn’t be surprised. You’d known he didn’t, couldn’t have feelings for you. You’d known that a day would come when he’d inevitably fall for someone that wasn’t you. You should’ve known. You sat up with a gasp, hand clutched tightly to your chest, cheeks warm and wet with tears. You could feel strands of hair clinging to your face. You’d fallen asleep, clearly, because the sun was up now, shining brightly through the window across from your bed, the curtains of which you’d stupidly left open last night. Your mind wandered back to the call from San as you reluctantly dragged yourself out of bed, searching for your phone beside the doorway. “How is it not broken?” You mumbled to yourself, turning the device around in your fingers in surprise. It was almost completely unmarked by the abuse of your throw last night, aside from the tiny scratch on the top left corner. The screen lit up with a message when you were done inspecting it, the green bubble adding on to the ridiculously long list of others. San : I’m so sorry San : Y/n please answer, I’m seriously worried about you. San : If you don’t answer I’m gonna get Yunho. Seonghwa : Is everything okay? San is worried about you.. Seonghwa : Y/n? Now I’m worried. Hongjoong : You’re scaring us all, just let one of us know you’re okay. Yunho : Y/n?? Y/n added to ‘Ateez GC’. Wooyoung : Has anyone heard back yet? Yeosang : What do you think idiot? Of course not. San : I shouldn’t have called her. I should have just let her be. Seonghwa : Which is exactly what we all said to you about fifty times the day before, did we not?… Hongjoong : He was worried, we all were. I understand. Yeosang : Has anyone tried going over to her place? Jongho : Well nobody knows where she lives now except Yunho.. Mingi : He won’t tell you, don’t even bother. Wooyoung : Do you know too Min? San : Mingi don’t know you know it too then? Jongho : You idiots really think he’s gonna tell you that? Yeosang : Someone needs to go and check on her, seriously. Seonghwa : Honestly, I agree and so does Hongjoong. He’s trying to contact Yun… Y/n removed from ‘Ateez GC’. San : Don’t hate me too much when you wake up.. Hongjoong : Aish I can’t believe you’re so stubborn. Yunho : Y/n.. Yeosang : Y/n I don’t know if you’re looking at any of our messages but just so you know, Yunho is comin.. Panic filled your chest and you swiped desperately on the most recent text, from Yeosang, fingers scrambling in your passcode to see the rest of the message. Yeosang : Y/n I don’t know if you’re looking at any of our messages but just so you know, Yunho is coming to your place. Now. San and Wooyoung begged him to come check up on you. You groaned loudly, swearing under your breath and leaping to your feet, rushing towards your front door. You were 90% sure you’d left it unlocked last night. Now more than ever you wished you’d listened to Yunho the last time you saw him and installed the electronic lock with a pin. You reached the door just as the handle turned and desperately you threw yourself and your weight against it, attempting to keep it closed. A useless endeavour considering that Yunho was both twice your height and weight. “Y/n stop it.” He grunted from the other side of the door, giving a push that sent both you and the door flying backwards. Whereas the door was stopped by the wall, you tumbled to the floor, a stabbing pain shooting up your backside where it connected harshly with the floor. “Shit, sorry.” You looked up in time to see Yunho kneel beside you, his face scrunched in both concern and relief. His hair was blue now and he looked older, and less happy than you’d ever seen him. “What are you doing here?” You snapped, shoving away his hand when he tried to help you up, opting for using the nearest wall to your advantage instead. His eyes dropped to the floor, mouth turning even further down if possible. You hated it, you truly did. But you couldn’t let yourself care about it, because if you did that then it was only going to hurt ten thousand times more that he loved someone else. “Everyone was worried about you..” He said quietly, peeking back up at you hopefully, as if that explanation would be enough to return you both back to your normal friendship. You clenched your fists, squaring your jaw and glaring back at him. “So give literally anyone else my address. Why did you have to come?” You were basically hissing now, barely able to see past the tears pooling in your eyes. You knew this was unreasonable, you were the one who’d asked him not to give them your address, not wanting to risk them turning up and outing both you and themselves to their fans. It was bad enough that Yunho knew and turned up so often. Had, past tense. It had been months since you’d seen him. His face was a sea of confusion and hurt, his hands twisting at his sides. He hadn’t understood then why you’d so suddenly told him to get out, clearly knowing that your excuse of needing to study was nothing more than a cover and he still didn’t understand now, months onwards. So much for his intelligence. But then, you couldn’t expect him to ever even believe that his second closest friend would have hidden feelings for him when he was so focused on his own feelings for someone else. “Y/n.” He said quietly, frowning at you as you slid back down the wall, barely containing sobs in the back of your throat. You just wanted him to leave, to take his familiar presence away and to let your heart continue to splinter until you convinced it to move on from him. You didn’t want to owe him the explanation sitting heavily on your tongue as he knelt back down in front of you, his hands steadying himself on your knees, drawn against your chest. You stared helplessly at him, wishing you had a better explanation for why you were so clearly against him being here. “Whatever it is..Whatever it was or is, I’ll help you through it.” He said, using the same words that you’d used on him all those months ago. Fresh tears sprang to your eyes and you looked away from his face, every possible inch of it covered in concern and care that you didn’t deserve for the way you’d treated him. “You can’t help me this time.” You closed your eyes as the words slipped from you, the exact ones that he’d said to you before breaking your heart. It felt like someone was ripping your chest apart now, trying to dig around for the remaining fragments to squeeze and destroy them some more. “Wanna bet?” His hands were on your face, turning it towards him the way you’d wanted to do to him that night but couldn’t. It was different for him of course, it didn’t mean anything. You looked at him, half glaring and half trying to keep in more tears. His lips pressed together sadly. “Y/n, whatever I did wrong, tell me. Tell me so that I can fix us because I’m dying without you by my side.” He begged, his voice catching in ways you’d never heard it catch on each word, tearing your chest apart even more. “Every night I’ve gone over and over what I did wrong, why you pushed me away. How I could have hurt you.” His lip was quivering now and his hands were still on your face, holding you and preventing you from looking away. You wanted to scream and curl into a ball, to beg him to leave. “Please.” He choked, desperation shining in his eyes. Eyes that had always known what you were feeling without you ever having to say it, until it came to your feelings for him. Hands that had always known just the right way to comfort you until he broke you into pieces that just didn’t go back together the same way anymore. Lips that you’d always known would be a source of safety for you until he used them to tell you he loved someone that wasn’t you. “I can’t.” “You can’t forgive me?” “Mhm.” You nodded, watching him try to understand you. “Why?” “You broke my heart.” The words came out before you even knew they were on the tip of your tongue, surprising you both. He stared at you, hands dropping slowly from your face to his side, his eyes wider than you’d ever seen him. You could almost see the cogs in the back of his head spinning out of control, his eyes glazing as he repeated your words in his head over and over. “I mean-” You stuttered, grasping at something, anything that you could say to explain away your slip up. He shook his head at you, pressing his finger to your lips, blocking any words from coming out. “I know what you mean.” He said quietly. He breathed in and out for a few moments, like he was calming himself. And then he did the unthinkable. He smiled at you. “You should have probably told me.” He said in a soft voice, finally dropping his finger from your lips. You blinked slowly, your turn to be confused and attempt to understand what he meant. “I don’t understand.” You finally admitted, sighing heavily. He was almost grinning now, shaking his head, sending blue strands across his forehead. “I think you really misunderstood me a few months ago,” Yunho whispered, leaning forward, his hand cupping your cheek and his nose brushing yours. Fireworks encased your body. “Yunho what do you mean?” You choked, frozen in place by the fact that his mouth was closer to yours than it had ever been. And then you were melting, because his lips were brushing yours, his hand pulling you until your mouth fell against his, returning his gentle kiss. “Idiot, you thought it was someone else?” He chuckled quietly, mouth moving to your nose, planting a delicate kiss, then to your forehead, dusting a few more lingering ones before returning to your mouth, catching your bottom lip between his teeth. “Mmph.” You pulled away from the intoxicating hold, staring wide eyed at him as his words sunk in. “Yunho-” “Yeah.” He nodded, moving forward back into your space, this time pressing your back solidly against the wall with his chest so that you had no space to escape him. You melted into his mouth, hands wrapping in the material of his shirt, chest arching against his. His hands held your waist, his soft chuckles falling into your lips as you kissed, until you managed to pull yourself away again, heavy pants filling the space left between you. “Me?” You asked in shock, wide eyed. He nodded. “You, it’s always been you.” He murmured, eyes softening at you. “It will always be you.”

#yunho fluff #yunho #ateez #atiny #ateez imagines #jeongyunho #yunho angst #yunho x reader #y/n

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irwinkitten · 5 years

Text

knockout round | a.i

(gif credit to @asht0ns-world )

pairing: reader x boxer!ashton notes: so the who do you love video lowkey inspired this. even tho the majority of the video is lowkey pointless, the looks that ashton was giving the camera gave me such a boxer!ash vibe and lets be real i’m a hoe for possessive and jealous ash. thank u to @asht0ns-world @singledadharrington, @gorgeouslygrace, @sugarcoated-pain and @5sosnsfw for letting me throw out my ideas of this and killing you all with the potential plot ideas. also thank u christa for being the best cheerleader, i love u angel. and massive thank u to lena for finding the gif bc my laptop has issues warnings: violence, smut word count: 3.1k!!

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Boxing had always been apart of Ashton’s life. He’d never really known a part of his life without it.

As a child, his temperament was always short. Teachers called him the problem child and people never wanted to be his friend. But he still managed to find three friends and forge a tight bond with them that people often called them brothers without even realising there was no familial resemblance to the quartet.

When his mother had enrolled him into boxing classes, after expressing an interest in the programs that he watched with his parents, they soon realised that with the lessons that he went to, his anger simmered down and his fuse seemed to get longer with each passing year.

By the time that Ashton had reached his late teens, he was the lightweight champion of the area. As he continued to grow, put on the muscle, and move up in the divisions, he was making a name for himself. He was one that wasn’t to be messed with.

As his name gained traction with the media, so did stories of his childhood, his anger. And he was a lot more honest about his childhood than most boxers.

“I had a good environment. But I have anger issues and I know that I have them. It’s taken years of hard work to get to where I am today, but I know that the driving force has always been my anger. It’s both a blessing and a curse.”

His competitors could never find his achilles heel. His love life was never a subject that he talked or posted about, and despite a few competitors going below the belt and making remarks about his mother that would’ve angered any man, he’d held his cool and then thoroughly beaten them the next day.

When she came into his life, it was steady. She’d just come from a bad relationship, her heart in tatters and the two of them shopping late night. He’d been running for last minute prep and she’d decided to drown her sorrows in alcohol and ice cream. She knew his name, knew his title that he held in the boxing world.

But she didn’t care. All she cared about was he’d picked up the last tub of her favourite ice cream and just at her absolutely defeated look, it prompted him to offer her a deal.

“Let me at least take you out somewhere for the day where we can be kids again. I’ve got some days off coming up anyway.”

His words had prompted the smallest of smiles as she accepted his offer as he handed her the ice cream and she gave him her number, under the stipulation that he wouldn’t be creepy about it.

And despite giving her a mock offended look, he understood her wariness of giving her number to someone who was essentially a complete stranger.

From then on, she became a rock in his life who seemed to have his back regardless. His three friends from childhood who’d all become apart of his management team as he gained status with his boxing, noticed how he was always in better moods, he stuck to the plans before fights and before long the friendship blossomed into a relationship that he was protective of.

But of course, whilst in the media spotlight, he knew that keeping such a relationship quiet was always going to be impossible.

But the day that it’d been announced that he was against her ex, the very one who left her a broken woman in the ice cream aisle, he knew that this fight was going to be important, whether she acknowledged it or not, this was payback for hurting the beautiful woman he was resolutely in love with.

He’d never been so revved for a match before.

Ashton knew that she was worried, that her bottom lip would be shredded beyond belief from her teeth. But he wasn’t.

Dean Martin has gone the wrong way to rile him up, to use his girl as verbal bait. And hearing the derogatory terms, Ashton wasn’t too sure if he was grateful that Calum’s hand on his bicep reminded him where he was, or if he was still annoyed over it.

He was certainly annoyed that the hand turned into a restraining arm when Martin had made a comment of bedding his girl, with or without her permission. He’d seen red and as rage flooded his body, his muscles locked up, ready to pound the fucker down.

Calum had hastily pulled Ashton away from his opponent, opting to keep the distance between them so that Ashton wouldn’t be tempted to knock Martin out before the match.

The headlines went wild with those shots and the look of undiluted rage on Ashton’s features. People were very quickly realising that even he has his limits and Dean Martin had managed to break those limits clean.

Being with her before the match, his hands were firmly around her waist as she stood between his legs. Despite his trainer telling him no distractions, she was never a distraction. Only an anchor. And right now he needed to ground himself because the last thing he wanted to do was lose this fight to someone like Dean Martin.

“Baby, you’ve got this fight in the bag.” She hummed softly, her lips ghosting across his cheek. Ashton sighed.

“I hate the fact that it’s your ex I’m fighting.” He finally admitted and she sighed, her fingers running through his hair. His eyes fell shut of their own accord, her touch soothing the rage that was bubbling under the surface. Martin’s comments still rang in his ears.

“He wasn’t a good man. You’re the better man, better partner.” The words were soft, almost caressing his soul and he felt reassured.

“Only because of you, sweet girl. I’m better because of you.” Her lips curved up into a wry grin as she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’m proud of you Ash. You’ve got this fight in the bag, and if that boy tries what he did for the weigh in, I won’t be angry or upset. Lord knows you’ve told me time and again that anyone disrespecting me within earshot of you will earn them either a verbal lashing or a physical one depending on their words.” Her tone was teasing, reminding him that she wouldn’t be angry with him.

It’d been an issue at first, his verbal and physical responses to people being either disrespectful or derogatory about his girl. But only when he told her his reasons, how he was raised to respect a woman, regardless of any kinds of relationship, she understood that it was something that he could tone down but not necessarily control.

And they compromised on it. He tried to keep it to verbal smackdowns, and only if someone threw the first punch, did he defend himself. His reputation grew within months and soon when they’d been together for two years, he was at the top of his career.

“Irwin, ten minutes. Your girl needs to go.” Calum had re-entered the locker room, giving her a brief smile. “Seats for you are close to ringside. He’s on the blue corner.” She nodded, pressing another gentle kiss to his forehead before making her way, ruffling Calum’s hair as she did.

Ashton laughed at the disgruntled look on Calum’s face and he could feel his body begin to gear as he did the last minute stretches.

“Martin’s going to hit hard and fast. You need to be swift. Don’t use everything you have until he starts to wear down.” Ashton nodded, focusing on the aspect of the fight, rather than who he was fighting. He couldn’t let his anger cloud his judgement or moves, not so early on into the match.

Calum was soon hustling him to the entrance corner, both of them knocking fists together before he rushed ahead to prep his area. As the music began playing, he pulled the silk robe on, the hood falling just over his eyes as he made his way out, loud screams causing a smirk to slip on his features as he began the walk through, Luke and Michael following behind at this point and keeping people on the floor seats from mobbing him.

Martin was stood scowling, doing a last minute stretch as his gloves were being put on. Once Ashton was in the ring, Calum was there, pulling the robe off and getting the gloves onto his wrapped up hands.

“Remember, you might be fucking angry with him, but I swear to god Irwin, if you let this fucker beat you, I’ll kick your ass myself.” This caused Ashton to crack a smile before Calum put the mouth guard in and Ashton went and met the ref in the middle. He and Martin touched gloves before the bell went and the first swing came from Martin, aiming for the jaw, causing Ashton to bend backwards to avoid getting clocked.

The noise was deafening and Ashton knew his focus was slipping as Martin landed in some good punches. It was getting close and he could feel himself dropping as he lost the round, his lip bloody and a cut on his cheek, half staggering back to Calum who seemed to be trying his best not to berate him.

But then she was there beside Calum, her hands on his cheeks once he’d been checked over.

“Do me proud, Ashton Fletcher. I know you can beat him.” And his second wind came as the next round got ready.

“Gonna let your bitch lean over for me later when I win? It’s all she ever really was good for.” The comment was crass, but the fuse was lit.

“Irwin, don’t let anger cloud your judgement here.” Calum snapped harshly. The last thing they needed was his focus to be lost, but if anything, his focus was sharpening. And he could feel the anger bubble under his skin.

“C’mon Irwin. Make sure to share the spoils. I mean, she’s second hand goods, surely you’re not still with her?” Ashton’s eyes caught hers and he could see she’d heard his calls. His fuse seemingly got shorter as he gave her a reassuring smile, taking the offered water and taking a few seconds to calm his racing heart.

“How about this, I share her with some buddies and drop her back to you. She might be in reasonable condition if she doesn’t fight like she used to. Always feisty until I got her to see sense, if you catch my drift.” The smirk on Martin’s lips as the words left his mouth snapped something inside of Ashton and the anger that had been bubbling, flooded.

And he was furious.

The bell went and Ashton immediately had Martin on his back foot, unable to even get close for a hit as Ashton’s fists repeatedly went for him, reminding himself to not murder his opponent.

It didn’t take long before there became a real look of fear in Martin’s eyes and Ashton felt no ounce of sympathy as he landed a knockout and the crowd roared in approval. It didn’t take long before the last round was won and his arm was being raised, a bruised rib protesting as he was handed the belt and his lips curved into the widest smirk.

Martin was lucky to get away with the injuries that he got. Two visible black eyes, a few cuts and Ashton was almost certain he managed to at least fracture a rib with the force of his hit at one point. Part of him wished that he broke something clean but he’d take what he could get in this fight. Knowing that he’d gotten what he deserved, settled the anger to a simmer, the adrenaline still flooding his body.

As he exited the ring, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling his girl into his side, his lips meeting hers in a soft, sweet kiss, ignoring the disappointed noises. Once he pulled away, his gaze moved to Martin, staring at him out, his grip only getting marginally tighter until he left the opposite side.

Ashton retreated back to his side, his arms still firmly around her as the medic double checked the rib to make sure it was only bruised and not broken, before clearing him to go and get cleaned up.

She didn’t protest as he pulled her with, her back pressed against the cold tiles as his lips met her neck, the hot water beating down on his back.

“All mine to care for, to love on.” He murmured against her skin, lips and teeth gently pulling at the skin. Her fingers lifted up to run through his hair, gripping the damp strands gently.

“All yours.” She whispered in return, a sharp gasp escaping as his lips had moved to her breasts, his teeth pulling on one nipple carefully as his hand worked the other. She was whining softly, his name escaping occasionally.

His lips moved from her breasts, trailing down as he got to his knees, a whine escaping her lips.

“Shouldn’t it be me rewarding you, handsome?” He shook his head at her words, moving her fingers back to his hair.

“All about you tonight, doll.” She was about to argue, but his tongue licked a stripe up her folds, a startled noise escaping her instead as she gripped his hair, his lips attaching to her clit. He worked two fingers inside of her as he nipped and sucked on her clit, the noises were somewhat beautiful sounds to his ears as she got closer to her orgasm.

Her fingers got tighter around his hair as she called out his name, his lips immediately beginning a journey back up her body slowly sliding his fingers out as he stood up, lifting his fingers to her lips, tapping them gently.

They parted under his touch and her tongue swirled around his digits, a groan escaping his lips as she cleaned them. He wasted no time as he pulled them free, his lips meeting hers as he lined up against her entrance.

“You’re far too good to me, princess.” He groaned as he slid in, her legs lifting off the ground to wrap around his waist. His hands immediately moved to cup her ass as his hips began to move against hers, moans escaping the both of them.

He knew that he wasn’t going to last too long, not with the protesting rib, so one hand slid from her ass, moving to her clit as he picked up his pace. Her words were half begging, incoherent as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.

As she came, her eyes falling shut, his head dropped to her shoulder as he reached his own orgasm, her name tumbling from his lips like a prayer, her fingers still working through his hair, their breathing heavy as he pressed gentle kisses on the marks he’d left on her skin.

“I love it when you mark me like that. I know I’m always yours, but seeing them, just sets my insides on fire.” She murmured as he pulled out from her, finally allowing her under the stream of hot water. She kept her hair from the stream of the water as she allowed it to hit her skin.

“Just as I’m yours, sweet girl. I’m sorry if I hurt you though.” His fingers ghosted across the red marks left by his fingers, and she shook her head at him.

“You of all people know that I love seeing them.” She murmured as she reached over, taking the shampoo and working it into his hair. His eyes fell shut at her ministrations and didn’t argue with her. She always told him she loved seeing the marks, but sometimes it didn’t stop the guilt flooding him.

He worked the shower gel along her body as she conditioned his hair. They worked in silence until she’d gotten the suds of the shower gel off his body. His hands switched the water off as her lips slowly moved across from his shoulder, along his collarbone before finding the junction of his neck and shoulder, trailing her lips along the column of his throat.

A soft noise escaped his lips as she reached his jaw, before her lips reached his once more, her hands taking a hold of his head, her palms firmly planted against his cheeks. He knew better than to look away from her when she was this determined.

“I love you, Ashton Irwin, and that won’t ever change. We have words for a reason, and you know I use them. Please don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart.” His lips met hers briefly before a sigh escaped.

“Sorry angel.”

“Your forgiven. Now, we need to get ready and head back home. I know that the boys will want to at least spend a quiet night in celebrating with you.” Her voice held amusement, knowing that despite her want for the two of them to continue their own celebrations, the other three would deliberately ruin that.

Ashton laughed.

“They’re too frightened to cross you, y’know. If you said that you were taking me home, they wouldn’t argue.” He commented as the two stepped from the shower and dried off. She lifted her shoulders into a shrug as she got re-dressed.

“I know, but I don't want them bitching at me, because I want days with you, not just a few hours. So they get the few hours and then I get days. And they know better than to show up unannounced after a match.” The grin that she wore made him laugh as he got dressed.

Once they were ready, his hand slid into hers, fingers interlacing as they headed out back to the waiting cars to get the two of them home. Michael was the first to throw his arm across Ashton’s shoulders as they trio caught up with the two.

“So, we’re drinking at yours then?” She raised an eyebrow pointedly at Ashton, Michael’s words simply proving her point. He rolled his eyes before grinning.

“Of course. M’lookin’ forward to the headlines that are gonna come out from this fight.” Calum laughed as he threw his own arm around her shoulders.

“They’re gonna point out how no one can seemingly knock you down. You’re like a rock.” Luke teased and Ashton rolled his eye as Michael moved his arm from his friends shoulders.

Once they reached his place, the other three didn’t protest as she helped check him over before all but ordering him to put his feet up. The others were about to make a comment, but one look stopped the thoughts dead in their tracks and she received sheepish smiles in return as she finally settled into his good side.

It was worth it all in her eyes.

---

tag list: @cals-babylons , @glitterprincelu , @calumspeachy , @wrappedaroundcal , @cosmocalum , @monsteramongmikey , @talkfastfletcher , @hereforlukescruff , @astroashtonio , @catchinqcalum , @5saucewho , @dontstopisagoodsongchangemymind , @therainydays4 , @asht0ns-world , @silverchainbee , @hidd3nfangirl , @doodleasouarus , @empathycth , @mylovehes , @songforhema , @kinglyhood , @youngblood199456 , @makecoffeenotwars , @sunny-sos , @negative-love , @softboycal , @kinglycalum , @you-of-ghost , @meetyoutheremgc , @lmao5sosimagines , @lietoash , @aw-hawkeye , @drummerboy794 , @itjustkindahappenedreally, @mycollectionofnuts, @abitloudforanaccousticset, @boytoynamedcalum , @teampreator , @dukehoods , @dweebluke , @calumculture , @lashtoncurls , @wildhearthood , @gigglyirwin , @blue-skies-are-alright , @hearts-to-the-sky , @tiddlerrr , @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you , @zooniah , @cakeassx-blog , @paqueretteash , @rotten-kandy , @vipclifford , @musiclover1263 , @rosecoloredash , @jpgluke , @cathartichaoss , @5secondssofssummer , @cozyfivesos , @balsamichood , @cliffordstxngue , @lukesbellas , @myloverboyash , @cxddlyash , @gabiatthedisco , @rosesfromcth , @gorgeouslygrace , @calumsssparkle , @valentinelrh , @meetashthere , @softforcal , @cakesunflower , @hotmessmichael , @fangirlforever0704 , @caswinchester2000 , @long-termplanwithshort-termfixes , @josierosie , @ashtoniwir , @raabiac , @burncrashbromance , @killerlukesqueen , @angelbabylu ,

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justauthoring · 6 years

Text

only just a little // jon snow

request(s): Hello! Can you write a Jon Snow X Reader here she was tortured by Ramsey when he took winterfell and when Jon takes it back the reader has this really bad nightmares about Ramsey and Jon is there for her and just a lot of fluff

can u do one where the reader is in love with jon and he loves her and he saves her from someone bad (lol) and they confess that they love each other? thank you💗💗

Hi hi omfg I love your writing and Jon Snow is awesome so here we go :))) For the Jon Snow x Reader requests, could you do one where the reader was Jon's best friend way beck when he lived in Winterfell but now she is being held captive by Ramsay Bolton (kinda like Sansa was) so Jon comes to rescue her but she's really badly injured and there's tonnes of angst but fluff at the end???? Again, love your writing, hope you are having a noice day :)

Can you do a Jon x Reader where you have been kind of a prisonner of Ramsay Bolton and you have a hard time trusting people after that, and Jon is the first to help you out

requested by: @mdgrdians

please don’t plagiarize my work!

word count: 2,181

“You’re really leaving?”

“Yes, I am.”

His words are spoken with a heavy exhale, displaying how torn Jon truly feels. In the dead of the night, the two of you seemingly the only ones still awake, Jon wonders if this is the right decision. If leaving you is the right decision.

Deep down, he knows it is. It’s the right decision for him, specifically, because he knows that he will never be accepted here in the way he wants. He may have a home, and those who love him, but he’ll never be consider a Stark by certain people, even though he so desperately wishes to be one.

Taking the black will give him purpose. Will give him something to fight for. And, it will give Jon the family, in some ways, that he needs.

But it will mean leaving you.

You look so sad, stood there before him. Your eyes were watering, but you seemed to refuse to let them fall. Keeping a brave face, Jon assumed -- for his sake. You curled into yourself, pulling the furs wrapped around your shoulders tighter around yourself to hide your body from the sheer cold of the late nights in Winterfell. Yet, it did nothing to stop the winds from smacking you in the cheeks and turning them a rosy red though.

Jon, despite everything, had never thought you so beautiful as he did in that moment.

“I leave in the morning.”

The words seemed to smack you the same way the wind did. Instead, in the heart. It felt like to opposing ends were taking your heart and playing tug-of-war with it, ripping it half without a care in the world.

Yet, you couldn’t argue. Couldn’t find, not even one, word to argue against Jon’s choice. Sure, you loved him. Sure, his father and his brother Robb, and his younger sister, Arya and his younger brother’s, Rickon and Bran, loved him. And maybe even a small part of Sansa loved her bastard brother as well. But they were not enough to keep him here, and you knew you weren’t either. Jon needed to do this for himself, and as much as it hurt you so, you would not stop from doing so.

You need to sacrifice your own love for him, so that he might find some peace.

“I will say farewells to you now then.”

The words puzzled Jon, and you were quick to elaborate, finally raised your bowed head to meet his eyes. “I will not watch you walk out those gates, Jon,” you explain, the words almost forced, as if they’d become choked up in your throat. “I cannot bare the sight of you walking away from me.”

Jon understood. And as much as it pained him, to say his goodbyes now, he would not argue. For his sake, like you were not arguing for his.

He took a small step forward, and that was all that you needed. In the next second, your arms were bounding around him fast and tightly, pulling him flush against yourself as you buried your head into the crook of his neck. Jon eased into the embrace almost instantly, loving the feeling of you so close and in his arms. He knew it was a feeling he would dearly miss.

Then, you leaned back, just slightly, pressing a kiss against his cheek. You moved your lips to his ears, touching them just slightly as you whispered; “I will miss you dearly.”

Jon’s grip on you tightened, even for just a moment, giving you the confirmation you needed that he, would indeed, miss you too. He’d never been great with words, and you seemed to understand him through his actions perfectly. It was one of the reasons why he loved you, even if he’d yet to admit it.

“I hope to see you again one day, Jon Snow.”

The bruises on your body ached to point you felt you could not move. The touch of him still lingered disgustingly across your skin, and no amount of baths could wash the feeling of him away.

You hated that he had this hold of you. That such a man like him could make you feel so powerless, so vulnerable with just a simple look. He controlled you in every aspect through fear, and commanded you in just the same way. You wanted to fight, but found you could not. Your chance at fighting for your dignity and happiness had long been lost, since the moment he first touched you.

Instead, you spent your days wasting away in your room until he visited you at night and defiled you all over again.

And now, with Sansa, his wife, and Theon, his toy, gone and having escaped, all his torment fell upon your shoulders. Relentlessly. You would’ve never wished this kind of torture upon anyone, especially Sansa who’d been like a younger sister to you, but now that it was only you, you’d rather be dead.

Even then, you didn’t have enough courage to kill yourself.

Ramsay was cruel. Beyond cruel. He was tormented, sick, and he seemed to take pleasure in the hell he created for others. When he raped you, he smiled in glee. When he beat you, he laughed in your face. And when he’d torment you mentally, use your own fears against you, he would do as if he truly did love you. It was one of the few times he was gentle, stroking your cheek as he used your own personal hell to his favour.

You had never met a men as sick as Ramsay Bolton.

Today was different though. Usually, when you were not sleeping, there was handmaidens at your side, keeping watch of you. If you left your room, Ramsay would place guards at your side. Today felt absent. Barren. No one was around, and Ramsay hadn’t spoke a word of warning towards you.

Your door was locked though, keeping you on the inside.

So you sat, by yourself, still and alone, on your bed, tracing the bruises that lined your skin and shivering in disgust when your mind poisoned the thought of your touch being his. Defiling you. Using you.

It was quiet. You were alone.

Until suddenly, you were not. In the span of only a second, footsteps ran rapid in what sounded like everywhere. You couldn’t pinpoint an exact position or direction, no matter how hard you tried, and even pressing your ear up against your door did nothing to help you understand what was happening beyond the wooden plank that blocked your view.

Then, a moment later, over all the other footsteps, you heard ones approaching your door. Quick, confident strides and it caused you to gasp out in fright, stumbling back, as far away from the door as possible. You knew who it was. No one else other than Ramsay himself visited you, and you feared what kind of torture he’d inflict upon you this time.

In nothing but a sheer nightdress, you had a inclination of what it would be.

The footsteps stopped, there was a click, signifying the door had been unlocked, and then you saw the doorknob turn. It wasn’t as if this was anything knew. By now, there was a countless amount of times you’ve been defiled and used. Yet, you still found yourself petrified every time it threatened to begin.

The door slid open, light bleeding into the darken room that caused you to remind blind for a few moments. You blink, holding up a hand in front of your eyes to shield yourself from the light, before a figure became clear in front of you.

It wasn’t Ramsay.

It was a man you’d thought, long ago given up on, ever seeing again.

Curled into yourself, probably looking nothing but a shell of your old self in eyes, you stared up at Jon. A man you once knew well beyond belief, but now almost felt like a stranger and a relief.

You could hardly believe your eyes.

Jon took a step towards you, his name leaving your lips in a whisper, but you shuffled back, cowering. Your arms moved faster than your mind, and you fell back slightly, a gasp leaving your lips.

Jon’s hand came up, his palm towards you. “I won’t hurt you.”

His voice sounded the same, albeit deeper. When you took a good look at him, you realized that his face had toned, grown. He looked like his father the way his hair was tied back, and there was blood caked to his skin. It all clicked in that one moment. Why Winterfell had seemed to absent was because there had been a battle, one you hadn’t been informed of, and apparently, Jon had been Ramsay’s enemy.

And it seemed he’d won.

“You remember me, yes?”

How could you forget him?

“Jon,” his name left your lips in a rasped, broken voice. But it was his name all the same. “Jon Snow. I remember you.”

“Y/N,” Jon called, more confident know that he knew you knew who you were. “Ramsay is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore. I promise you.”

He can always hurt you, you thought. The man wouldn’t leave your mind.

Jon took another step forward, and his knees hit the edge of the bed. His hand was still held out before him, but he moved it slightly, letting his palm face upward, holding his hand out towards you for you to take.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

You didn’t cry. You wondered if you’d cried all the tears in your body all ready.

But after only a moment of hesitance, you set your hand in Jon’s. The familiar touch was nice, refreshing and warm, opposed to the cold, lingering touched of Ramsay that never left you.

You were in his arms in a second, his support helping you stay on your feet.

Jon held you close as if he was afraid to let you go.

A scream pierced the silence of the dead of the night.

It startled Jon, his body snapping upright, alert with attention. His reflexes and past experiences told him that there was an attack Winterfell, that they were under siege. But after a moment, he realized the scream had come from beside him, piercing his ears as you twisted and turned, kicking your legs out wildly from beneath the sheets.

Once again, Jon snapped into attention, for a different reason all together.

With practiced routine, one of Jon’s hand fell on your shoulder, the other cupping your cheek. He spoke softly, but with purpose as he called for your name to bring you out of your tormented sleep. You fought relentlessly against his grip, your dream having you believe his touch to be of someone else’s.

“Y/N,” Jon called, “it’s Jon. You’re safe. You’re safe. I promise you that you are safe. No harm can come to you here.”

Eventually, your eyes begin to flicker, and your struggling seized. Your tense body eased in Jon’s grip, and your E/C eyes fluttered open to meet his.

Your chest rose and fell with exhaustion, your throat burning from the screams that had pierced through the silence only seconds ago. But when you met Jon’s eyes, and the eyes of Ramsay left your mind, you felt a sense of calm and warmth flood through your entire being as you lay limp in his grip, completely trusting.

Jon’s thumb softly stroked your clammy cheek, your forehead beading with sweat and causing your hair to stick to it.

“It’s okay,” Jon whispers, his voice barely audible.

“I’m sorry,” you pant, shaking your head. “He won’t leave my mind.”

“I know.”

“Every time I close my eyes, Jon, he... he’s there.”

Your voice breaks Jon’s heart.

Months later, after everything, and yet the pain inflicted upon you from that disgusting man would not leave you.

“Sometimes,” you continue, your voice shaky as you meet Jon’s gaze, finding solace within them. “I can still feel his touch. His hand... p-pushing me forwards...”

“Shh,” Jon soothes, brushing away the hair that sticks to your forehead. “He’s not here. He never will touch you again, Y/N. I promise you.”

You reach out for his hand, Jon quickly abiding as you grip onto it tightly.

“We don’t have to sleep,” Jon offers, hoping to calm. “We can just lay here. I can hold you until you feel safe again.”

You sigh, shaking your head; “I don’t want to keep you awake-”

“You’re not keeping me awake,” Jon cuts off gently. “I want to be here, with you, right now, with you in my arms.”

A moment of silence passes, and then, reluctantly, you nod, shifting slightly to fall into his embrace easier. True to his word, Jon just holds you. Neither of you speak, but he keeps you close, reassuring you that no longer can Ramsay touch or hurt or defile you in anyway.

It doesn’t erase the memory of him, but it does ease your racing heart. Even if only a little bit.

let me know what you thought? remember, reblogging always helps!

requests are open for jon snow and robb stark!

715 notes · View notes

7hyuns · 6 years

Text

a natural consequence

jongin x reader

warnings; smut, tiny tiny argument, is sleeping w ur boyfriend in ur parents house a warning oof, and swearing

a/n; i really loved writing this!!! i’m trying to get back on top of my requests, so i hope the anon that requested this likes it :)

requested; yes!!! thank you anon i still love u

- Hello!! I would like to request a jongin scenario where he's going to meet ur parents and ends up sneaking in ur room to fuck. I know you have a few other requests to take care of,so, no rush!!! Thxx!!

word count; 5k

If there was one thing you had to give Jongin complete credit for, it was how charming he always remained; how he seemed almost without a flaw in the limelight in front of anyone you introduced him to. At the beginning, you had every doubt in people believing this façade – how could they possibly accept that you had somehow stumbled across an impeccably put together person? How could someone glance at him as he spoke words in what almost felt entirely alienated from normality, and perceive him as an honest and truthful man?

Although now, sat directly across from your parents, you had come to lose the inhibitions and worries that once clung to you. In all truth, you wouldn’t have cared in the slightest if he acted like himself – if he showed the more careless side of his personality to the people you were pushed into introducing him to. But maybe you were being just as truthful with yourself as Jongin was with the couple that had raised you; maybe one day you’d accept that the way he acted in front of you and a handful of others wasn’t something to be shared. Especially not here, especially not in front of people who needed to see something that they could believe as real and respectful.

“So, what is it that you do for work?” You heard a deeper voice ask, your eyes casting up from your daydreams to see the man across from Jongin. A pause fell across the room, your breath catching just slightly as you imagined the faultless mask Jongin had fit perfectly over himself starting to crack.

The silence, it appeared, was not one of a lack of preparation, the sound of Jongin placing his glass of water down onto the table filling the space as he smiled brightly across at the two of them. “I work in music, I’ve been in a group for…a good amount of time now.” He explained, stilling his cutlery to give his full attention to the inquiry.

You pondered over his answer, not failing to take into account how ambiguously he had phrased the response. Already you knew that your father wouldn’t approve of it; the reason you had always pushed telling him to the back of your mind. He wouldn’t see it as proper, as put-together enough. The thought of him disliking something about Jongin – an occurrence within your friendship group that was entirely irregular – made your heart tighten in your chest. From panic or excitement, you couldn’t quite tell.

“Not the most stable career,” your father retorted, placing his cutlery down in what you knew from past experiences to be a kind of preparation: an expectancy of an argument. The situation, even though it had just begun to spiral, was something you were intrigued in. Never before had you seen anyone directly call-out Jongin when he was acting like this, and you wanted – or maybe needed – the closure of knowing what came next.

Your mother winced softly, the apprehension of the aftermath from your father’s words clearly affecting her in a different way than they did to you. You wished she would catch your eye, so you could get a glimpse into what she was picturing, but you already held that wish far deeper for Jongin; you perceived he’d be anxious, his hands tightening around the silverware and lip catching between his teeth in a tense moment of scrounging.

However, all he offered was a small chuckle, and a playful shrug, “It’s done me very well, sir. I imagine it’ll continue to do so for a good while longer.”

A small furrow found its way to your eyebrows; perhaps from the annoyance of knowing he had an answer for every single question they could think of asking. Although, it could have just been from the way he seemed exemplary at avoiding giving set-in-stone answers.

“You imagine?” Your father pushed, and you dared yourself to look over at the man. He didn’t even cast you a glance, too caught up in staring directly into Jonging’s eyes, and you already knew Jongin would be unfaltering in his return of this.

You hated the way your shoulders tensed to match your mother’s then, the adrenaline that nerves bought along with them beginning its course through your veins. The room felt full with the silence that lingered, although you couldn’t be entirely sure whether that was the case; every single second that ticked by after your father spoke felt like it was collecting dust.

“With all the respect, sir, you can’t be sure of any job,” Jongin summarised, but you knew from the ongoing space without another bitter response that he was expected to continue. “I could work in an office, and I could still get fired without a moment’s notice. I could be a lawyer, lose one case and ruin everything for my whole career. I could be a salesman, the company I work for could go into bankruptcy and I’d lose the job.”

A smile tried to make its way onto your lips, and you could feel the corners starting to curve upwards before you recalled something strong enough to bite it back. It was impressive, of course, his relentless ability to change everyone’s perceptions of him with a few strung together sentences. But it was far more infuriating, the lack of any kind of fault people could see him having. You wondered how long he had to spend coming up with an idyllic answer to questions he couldn’t be sure of, or how much time it took to craft a new mask to cover up anything he didn’t want the people around you to know. A small part of you felt special, honoured to be able to see what went one underneath the cold clay; the rest of you just wanted to know why he felt the need to be so controlled – so ultimately divine that not even those sat within touching distance could point out a mistake.

You looked away from your father, who had said something complimentary about Jonging’s attitude no doubt, and toward your mother. You liked to believe that you could always trust her judgement on people – all through-out your childhood and adolescence she hadn’t been far from correct in her deductions. But she seemed absolutely entranced, having been painfully obviously enchanted by the words that spilled from what you could only imagine was a formulated, antiseptic book of programmed and memorised responses.

An assumption was to be made then: had he or had he not pulled the two of them into the web he’d been building cautiously and collectedly since you accidentally ran into an old friend with him last year. The memory of that day made you breathe in sharply, you hadn’t thought anything of the actions at the time, thinking it was no deeper than polite behaviour in front of a complete stranger. You came to realise a few months later that it ran far deeper than that; friend after friend falling into the pit he continued to dig customised to what he knew they wanted to see.

Maybe that should have made you at least a little nervous, but all it came to do was irritate you. He never seemed to slip up, not even for the smallest of moments, and it made your jaw clench in hypocritical agitation. You knew, you could never stop knowing, that this was what everyone dreamed of: finding someone who everybody around you fell head over heels with as soon as they met him. But sometimes, for brief fleeting seconds, you wished that he would grow restless, become unpredictable and do something that made your heart pound inside your chest from the sheer intensity of it. You attempted to rationalise it, for the millionth time, and went through different options, and ended up stumbling across the possibility that he was simply a more reserved person, and enjoyed keeping his passion and more interesting side entirely private. It seemed realistic, and more than a little believable if you thought back as far as your mind would go to the times he’d been in public with you.

The sound of a plate clattering caused you to jolt slightly in surprise, the notice that you had been too concerned with your train of thought that you hadn’t even seen your mother rise to clear the table made you bite awkwardly at your lip in frustration. You looked over to see that you had caught Jongin’s attention, a soft smile pulling at his lips and his eyes squinting slightly as he tipped his head in suspicion. A private person, you thought, and then almost wanted to laugh. Had you ever thought of him like that before? If he was private, why did he share so much of himself with a large amount of people, and why would he allow that information to be such casual public knowledge.

You reminded yourself that the situation there was different than with a stranger, but found it a little difficult to believe. Privacy was important to everyone on some level, and maybe it was just more confusing to grasp exactly where it came to him. If you were alone, you would have huffed and tossed your head back in the slow process of figuring out this one thing. However, with Jongin being on his best behaviour, you didn’t want to give your parents a reason to let this day seem anything other than a dreamy fantasy.

Any semblance left of belief that he just ‘valued his privacy,’ dissolved entirely when you felt the warmth of his hand make contact with the skin on the inside of your thigh. He tilted his head upwards as your father rose to help in the kitchen, “Do you need any help in there?”

You heard a breathy chuckle from the kitchen before hearing your mother call back, “No, no, it’s okay, thank you, love.”

A small scoff passed your lips before you could pull it back, and you watched as Jongin glanced back at you with his eyebrows raised. As soon as your father disappeared from sight, Jongin dropped his head down to press unnervingly close to your ear, “Bored?” He questioned, moving his hand further along your thigh.

You pressed your thighs together, already knowing that this would do nothing to change the situation to be more in your favour. The annoyance from earlier returned in full, making you breathe in deeply before sighing sharply. “No,” you countered.

He laughed quietly, head tipping back as he hummed in fake acceptance of this fact. “Am I boring you?”

“I said I’m not bored,” you grumbled back, agitation seeping into you at how amusing he was finding everything.

“Oh, I get it,” he mumbled, moving his hand to push your thighs back open, “You’re annoyed, right?”

At this, you fell quiet again, no longer knowing how to fully respond to the accusation without growing childish in your irritation. Jongin laughed again, skimming his knuckle against your heat in a verging on dismissive manner, “Why are you so wound up, baby?”

You could feel your knuckles tightening again, your nails digging into the palms of your hands in suppressed feeling. “Why do you always do this?” You hissed, half because of the vexation and half because of the dancing around of his fingertips against your covered heat.

His hand finally found a stillness, immensely high up on your thigh, although the weight pressed against you felt too light for you to be confident in assuming he was finished with his teasing. “Isn’t a better question, why don’t you like this?”

This hushed you for a few beats, as you had voiced this thought within yourself multiple times, and always come back inconclusive. The answer was always on the tip of your tongue, but somehow ended up being swallowed down with the exasperated breaths you pulled in before being pushed out into the atmosphere with your deep sighs. The silk feel of the answer returned to you, and you tightened your lips closed to prepare yourself to finally give it the shape and colour it had always needed.

“It’s no fun,” you tested, locking eyes with him before gaining the courage to proceed, “maybe you’re right, I am bored.”

Even without giving your full attention to the surrounding sounds, you knew he would breathe in pointedly at your speech. His lips pressed together into a tight line as he nodded before chuckling bitterly, removing his hand from your thigh entirely, giving you a small sensation of emptiness as he did so.

He pushed his chair out from the table, gesturing for you to do the same and drumming his hands against the head of the wood in impatient waiting. You caught on as soon as you saw him straighten up, but that petty feeling of refusal bit into you until you saw him move to lightly tap against the kitchen door.

“Sorry for the interruption, but I just wanted to let you know that ___ wanted to show me her old bedroom, so we’ll be a bit busy for a few minutes.” Jongin spoke gently, his voice warm and assuring to both your parents – assuring enough that they both made loud jumbles of ‘oh, of course,’ and ‘oh, sure, have fun!’

You narrowed your eyes over at him, pressing your palms flat against the varnished wood of the table before rising to stand. His façade stayed in plain view, the welcoming smile permanently etched onto his lips while in view of your parents, and you took cautious strides to reach him. The moment you were within arms-length, he reached out to loop his arm tightly around your waist, digging his fingertips into the soft skin to let you know that your words from earlier were still stuck in his mind.

He released his hold on you when you reached the bottom of the staircase, allowing you to take the lead as he fell in behind you. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, you felt yourself falter, unsure of where to move to next as his arms latched around your middle, his warm palms going to swipe hair out of the way before you felt the softness of his lips touch your neck. He left soft and open-mouthed kisses over any exposed skin he could find, hands trailing round until the hovered just above your heat. You dropped your head back, resting it against him for some semblance of clarity before he ungraciously yanked his touches off of you entirely.

A whine of displeasure left you, before you carried your feet as close to stomping you could get without making that much noise, and swung the door at the end of the hall open. You said nothing as you gestured him inside, rolling your eyes yet again at how he seemed to just take his time without feeling a sliver of concern for what you wanted in the moment. On his way through the door, he knocked your hand away from the door, taking the responsibility upon himself as he swung it shut, closing it carelessly loud, the click echoing in the vaguely empty room.

Again, he moved further into the room without uttering a single word, trailing his hands lightly over some of the remaining artefacts from when you called this room home. He didn’t take a second to gawk at the lack of items left, opting instead to make himself familiar with the layout, turning back to you as he seemingly finished. He nodded curtly, walking back toward you with a haste you hadn’t seen at any point that day, “This’ll do.”

If he’d have given you a second to breathe after he spoke, you would’ve asked him what that meant, but the moment he let those words enter the atmosphere around you, his hands came to roughly capture your face before bringing your lips to his. The first collision was messy, teeth knocking against one another at the sheer energy radiating from him, and he seemed preoccupied with something else as you struggled to find a rhythm. He pulled one of your legs up from the floor, bringing it up to his waist before letting his lips untangle themselves from yours.

“Jump,” came the mumble against your skin, and you attempted to breathe in shakily as you did so. After you’d let yourself be entirely within his grasp, with his hands mapping over your body as if he’d never laid a single hand on you before, you pressed your lips back against his own harshly. Somewhere outside of the cloud that had begun to build around you from the flustered feeling of how rushed his touches all seemed to feel against your hot skin, you could feel him moving, but with your eyes closed tightly and hands occupied with tangling in his hair, you couldn’t tell where.

The wall became the only other physical thing you had to tell that this wasn’t some kind of dream, as the second your back hit it you could’ve sworn this was too good to be true. If you had a chance to speak in the moment, you were certain the only thought that would be coherent enough to verbalise would be his name; small chants of it like a prayer already swarming around your head.

You took in gulps of air when he finally pulled back, although the minute of calm was quickly replaced with more heat when his mouth grew bored of yours and moved instead to leave as many heart-shaped kisses against your throat as he could find the room to. The feeling around the moment made you forget where you actually were, your mind slipping away from you as you moaned without a second thought, not even being able to understand the smallest worry that tried to work its way into your brain.

Feeling your feet hit the carpeted floor of your old bedroom pulled you out of your hazy mindset and further into one that was fully aware of what it was you were really doing. A small bubble of shame became apparent in your stomach, your mind trying to figure out why you had ever let this happen in a room your parents had read bed-time stories to you in. It made your skin crawl, but you perceived that it was more likely because that disgust in your previous movement was doing nothing to prevent you from desiring it again.

You glared up at Jongin, wanting to find something within yourself that allowed you the ability to place the blame on him for this, although even as you scrambled, you came up with nothing to show for it. A smug smile was playing on his face, his arms looping themselves around your hips in a more playful manner than earlier, lifting you off your feet for a small moment as he spun you to be walking backwards again. Your feet floundered, not being able to fully keep up with his faster steps, but they didn’t have to for any kind of prolonged time. The backs of your knees hit the side of your old twin-size mattress, your legs slipping from underneath you at the minor force applied to them without preparation. You fell onto your back, the mattress feeling stiffer than you could remember, as his lips immediately re-attached themselves to yours.

One of his hands slipped up your shirt while the other returned to its previous position of travelling between your thighs, although this time he lacked the need to be wary of being subtle, and allowed his large hand to immediately cup your heat entirely. A shallow gasp passed your lips at this, legs falling open as a natural response as he did nothing to give you any other friction, leaving you to attempt it by yourself. You pushed your hips further into his palm, trying and not gaining any form of success to gratify yourself in any way possible, all while reminding yourself worriedly that your parents were a floor below you.

“Jongin,” you groaned in annoyance, wanting him to give you the smallest bit of anything, anything more than what he was currently providing.

He did nothing but chuckle coldly, pulling his hand out from underneath your shirt to push your hips down flat onto the surface of the bed, “You still bored?” He asked, biting down roughly on your neck, revelling in the way you bit down on your lip to push the moan sitting in your throat away.

You knew it would come back to that, but that meant nothing in terms of getting even a vague explanation ready. It hadn’t been a lie, the act downstairs had been boring for you, and you weren’t about to lie to him. “I will be in a second,” you grumbled, pushing his arm away from locking your hips in place as he laughed breathily.

His arm swung back to press your hips down even harder, “Sorry, am I frustrating you, angel?” He questioned, hovering his lips over your own as you had to pause for a breathless second to take in just how good he looked up-close. You wondered if he’d truly looked this heavenly all day, and how you had managed to keep yourself composed if he had.

You tried in vain to bring yourself back to the task at hand, quite literally in your case, as you hummed in response. “Of course not, this is so much fun for me.”

Another chuckle passed his parted lips as he nodded, “Do you want me to do something even better than this?” He asked, watching as you raised your eyebrows at the offer. “You gotta keep quiet though, yeah?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you spoke, making another attempt at angling your hips up into his loosening touch.

He grunted in confirmation that he’d heard your comment, but said nothing more as he slipped himself further down the expanse of your body. His lack of interest in taking your shirt off perplexed you slightly, although you assumed he was just trying to save himself some time. He reached your skirt quicker than he’d done anything that entire day, not even looking like he was at all interested in taking it off. Instead, he pushed it up your thighs until it bunched at your hips, making you feel like it must look ridiculous.

If it did, though, it didn’t seem to bother him – or even catch a shred of his attention – as he focused on something else. His fingers looped around the sides of your underwear, although he paused before pulling them down at all, pressing wet and open-mouthed kisses to the front of your still covered heat. You swallowed another moan, reminding yourself of how horrific it really would be if anyone – especially your parents – were to see you in this position. He remained un-relenting, the movements of his mouth becoming inexplicably more stimulating as he continued, and you let a small moan of his name pass through your lips before you turned to press your face into the duvet.

The feeling of your underwear finally being tugged down your legs made you look back at him, seeing him studying your expression as you did so. You wanted to narrow your eyes at him and tell him to speed things up if he had any hope of getting off as well, but your voice was caught up in your throat. His lips began to leave a trail of hickies on their way toward your heat, hands coming to wrap around your thighs and pull you closer to him from your position on your back. Usually when he reached this point back home, he’d start talking, he’d work you up even more with any words he could string together to make you blush under him.

But this time he remained silent, giving you no warning as his mouth attached itself to your heat and began its unusually fast movements. He generally went for a far more sensual start, but he seemed to discount everything that he did habitually in exchange for all the new sensations he could think of. You felt a bright red flush overtake your cheeks as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach begin to tighten already, and you tried to blame the embarrassingly small amount of time it took to get you this worked up down to the pure intensity of the moment. He paused for a tensed moment, your moans diminishing into quiet gasps for breath as he moved his hand closer to your heat, teasing you with the very tips of his fingers.

“I’m gonna ask one more time,” he started, delving his fingers into your heat as you whimpered his name far too loud than you should have, “am I still boring?”

You shook your head automatically, your mind completely swarmed with thoughts of how good he was making you feel already. He set a vague pace, messily moving his hands against you as you bit harshly down on your lip to keep yourself as silent as you possibly could. You knew this wouldn’t be a good enough answer for him, and that the dragging out of his actions was a signal for you to continue, “No, no, I’m, I’m not bored.” You attempted, but the words could only pass your lips in a scrambled manner.

He chuckled smugly, “Is me being charming enough to get around your parents and fuck you in their house really something you dislike?”

His words made your head spin even more, but the option of chasing after your climax was taken away as he pulled his hands away from you and rose to stand again. “Talk to me, baby.” He spoke softly, cupping your jaw again before pressing light kisses to your lips.

You could vaguely hear him unbuckling his belt, a moan tumbling out of your lips even at the apprehension of having him inside of you finally. “Not anymore,” you hummed to answer his question.

He lined himself up with your heat, “Gonna have to prove myself to you more, huh?”

Your mouth went to form a response as you felt him push himself inside you completely, your mouth instead falling open as his hand hastily moved to cover it. He grunted before pulling out completely, moving his palm away from your mouth as if he could really trust you to remain silent without it. He let himself move slower the second time, easing himself along as you snapped your eyes closed into the feeling that began to speed through your bloodstream.

The moans of his name didn’t stop coming, and he improvised with slamming his lips back onto yours to quiet you. It was only after he set a bruising pace that you realised what it was you were doing; the humiliated feeling from earlier creeping back in as he continued, although you were too far past it to care anymore.

“God, you’re so beautiful like this,” he grunted against your lips, the coil in your stomach tightening even sharper as you released a subdued moan in return.

You attempted to form the words to tell him you were close, but your mouth didn’t seem to be cooperating while your mind was speeding along so quickly ahead of you. Although, for a brief moment you were unsure if you had indeed said something, because he seemed to nod in response to words that hadn’t made it out yet. His lips found their way back to yours as he moved even faster against you, the coil in your stomach beginning to release as you dropped to hide your face in the crook of his neck as he chased after his own release.

In all honesty, you weren’t sure when he hit it, but judging from the way his hold on you tightened significantly, you could tell he had. He rode out both your highs before pausing a moment, knowing you hated the emptiness when he slipped himself out immediately. After a few moments of panting to get some form of clarity back, you nodded against him, letting him know you were all good now.

He grinned sheepishly at you after he pulled out, “You got a bin?”

You shook your head, then nodded, “In the bathroom, though.” He nodded, pulling his jeans back up his legs and tightening his belt on. “I didn’t even think about a condom, to be honest.”

He laughed softly, “I’m not surprised, you seemed a little busy.”

You hummed again, groaning in displeasure at the feeling of being pulled to stand up, Jongin curling an arm around your waist as you tugged your underwear back up. You took a quick glance around the room before letting him pull you back out into the hallway, trying and failing to gather what had happened in that room into a comprehensible timeline. You were almost fully aware that he had moved from making physical contact with you to use the bathroom bin, and a small nag of worry tore at you that your parents would see it.

The thought of your parents in general bought on a tidal-wave of anxiety; the idea that they had heard anything or even had the faintest clue of what was going on upstairs made you want to lay down in a hole and never face them again.

Jongin curled his arm back around your waist, pushing you to walk in front of him as he attempted to maintain the hold, your worry slipping from your grasp for a moment as you laughed with him. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you saw your parents still consumed with their task of re-setting the house, your mother offering you a warm smile as she paused in her cleaning motions for a second.

“What did you think?” She asked, and with your heightened senses about the moment, your eyes grew slightly wider in an act that you hoped wasn’t completely exposing and suspicious.

However, you heard Jongin laugh slightly, as if something had been genuinely funny before he answered smoothly, “I liked all the boy-band posters…”

#exo smut #exo scenarios #exo reactions #jongin scenarios #jongin smut #kai scenarios #kai smut #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #writing #s; exo #g; smut #m; kji

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sharpiefaceontangerine · 5 years

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Harry Styles’ New Direction (Harry’s 2017 Feature in Rolling Stone)

(because apparently I didn’t have the full text on my tumblr and u can never be too careful)

January 2016. There’s a bench at the top of Primrose Hill, in London, that looks out over the skyline of the city. If you’d passed by it one winter night, you might have seen him sitting there. A lanky guy in a wool hat, overcoat and jogging pants, hands thrust deep into his pockets. Harry Styles had a lot on his mind. He had spent five years as the buoyant fan favorite in One Direction; now, an uncertain future stretched out in front of him. The band had announced an indefinite hiatus. The white noise of adulation was gone, replaced by the hushed sound of the city below.

The fame visited upon Harry Styles in his years with One D was a special kind of mania. With a self-effacing smile, a hint of darkness and the hair invariably described as “tousled,” he became a canvas onto which millions of fans pitched their hopes and dreams. Hell, when he pulled over to the side of the 101 freeway in L.A. and discreetly threw up, the spot became a fan shrine. It’s said the puke was even sold on eBay like pieces of the Berlin Wall. Paul McCartney has interviewed him. Then there was the unauthorized fan-fiction series featuring a punky, sexed-up version of “Harry Styles.” A billion readers followed his virtual exploits. (“Didn’t read it,” comments the nonfiction Styles, “but I hope he gets more than me.”)

But at the height of One D–mania, Styles took a step back. For many, 2016 was a year of lost musical heroes and a toxic new world order. For Styles, it was a search for a new identity that began on that bench overlooking London. What would a solo Harry Styles sound like? A plan came into focus. A song cycle about women and relationships. Ten songs. More of a rock sound. A bold single-color cover to match the working title: Pink. (He quotes the Clash’s Paul Simonon: “Pink is the only true rock & roll colour.”) Many of the details would change over the coming year – including the title, which would end up as Harry Styles – but one word stuck in his head.

“Honest,” he says, a year later, driving through midcity Los Angeles in a dusty black Range Rover. He’s lived here off and on for the past few years, always returning to London. Styles’ car stereo pumps a mix of country and obscure classic rock. “I didn’t want to write ‘stories,’ ” he says. “I wanted to write my stories, things that happened to me. The number-one thing was I wanted to be honest. I hadn’t done that before.” There isn’t a yellow light he doesn’t run as he speaks excitedly about the band he’s put together under the tutelage of producer Jeff Bhasker (The Rolling Stones, Kanye West, “Uptown Funk”). He’s full of stories about the two-month recording session last fall at Geejam, a studio and compound built into a mountainside near Port Antonio, a remote section of Jamaica. Drake and Rihanna have recorded there, and it’s where Styles produced the bulk of his new LP, which is due out May 12th. As we weave through traffic today, the album no one has heard is burning a hole in his iPhone.

We arrive at a crowded diner, and Styles cuts through the room holding a black notebook jammed with papers and artifacts from his album, looking like a college student searching for a quiet place to study. He’s here to do something he hasn’t done much of in his young career: an extended one-on-one interview. Often in the past there was another One D member to vector questions into a charmingly evasive display of band camaraderie. Today, Styles is a game but careful custodian of his words, sometimes silently consulting the tablecloth before answering. But as he recounts the events leading up to his year out of the spotlight, the layers begin to slip away.

It was in a London studio in late 2014 that Styles first brought up the idea of One Directiontaking a break. “I didn’t want to exhaust our fan base,” he explains. “If you’re shortsighted, you can think, ‘Let’s just keep touring,’ but we all thought too much of the group than to let that happen. You realize you’re exhausted and you don’t want to drain people’s belief in you.”

After much discussion, the band mutually agreed to a hiatus, which was announced in August 2015 (Zayn Malik had abruptly left One D several months earlier). Fans were traumatized by the band’s decision, but were let down easy with a series of final bows, including a tour that ran through October. Styles remains a One D advocate: “I love the band, and would never rule out anything in the future. The band changed my life, gave me everything.”

Harry Styles reveals the inspiration behind his new music. Here’s five things we learned about Harry Styles’ new album.

Still, a solo career was calling. “I wanted to step up. There were songs I wanted to write and record, and not just have it be ‘Here’s a demo I wrote.’ Every decision I’ve made since I was 16 was made in a democracy. I felt like it was time to make a decision about the future … and maybe I shouldn’t rely on others.”

As one of the most well-known 23-year-olds in the world, Styles himself is still largely unknown. Behind the effervescent stage persona, there is more lore than fact. He likes it that way. “With an artist like Prince,” he says, “all you wanted to do was know more. And that mystery – it’s why those people are so magical! Like, fuck, I don’t know what Prince eats for breakfast. That mystery … it’s just what I like.”

Styles pauses, savoring the idea of the unknown. He looks at my digital recorder like a barely invited guest. “More than ‘do you keep a mystery alive?’ – it’s not that. I like to separate my personal life and work. It helps, I think, for me to compartmentalize. It’s not about trying to make my career longer, like I’m trying to be this ‘mysterious character,’ because I’m not. When I go home, I feel like the same person I was at school. You can’t expect to keep that if you show everything. There’s the work and the personal stuff, and going between the two is my favorite shit. It’s amazing to me.”

Soon, we head to the Beachwood Canyon studio of Jeff Bhasker. As we arrive, Styles bounds up the steps to the studio, passing a bored pool cleaner. “How are ya,” he announces, unpacking a seriously cheerful smile. The pool cleaner looks perplexed, not quite sharing Styles’ existential joy.

Inside, the band awaits. Styles opens his notebook and heads for the piano. He wants to finish a song he’d started earlier that day. It’s obvious that the band has a well-worn frat-house dynamic, sort of like the Beatles in Help!, as directed by Judd Apatow. Styles is, to all, “H.” Pomegranate-scented candles flicker around the room. Bhasker enters, with guru-length hair, multicolored shirt, red socks and sandals. He was initially busy raising a new baby with his partner, the singer and songwriter Lykke Li, so he guided Styles to two of his producer-player protégés, Alex Salibian and Tyler Johnson, as well as engineer and bassist Ryan Nasci. The band began to form. The final piece of the puzzle was Mitch Rowland, Styles’ guitarist, who had worked in a pizza joint until two weeks into the sessions. “Being around musicians like this had a big effect on me,” Styles says. “Not being able to pass an instrument without sitting down and playing it?” He shakes his head. It was Styles’ first full immersion into the land of musos, and he clearly can’t get enough.

Styles starts singing some freshly written lyrics. It’s a new song called “I Don’t Want to Be the One You’re Waiting On.” His voice sounds warm, burnished and intimate, not unlike early Rod Stewart. The song is quickly finished, and the band assembles for a playback of the album.

“Mind if I play it loud?” asks Bhasker. It’s a rhetorical question. Nasci cranks “Sign of the Times,” the first single, to a seismic level. The song began as a seven-minute voice note on Styles’ phone, and ended up as a sweeping piano ballad, as well as a kind of call to arms. “Most of the stuff that hurts me about what’s going on at the moment is not politics, it’s fundamentals,” Styles says. “Equal rights. For everyone, all races, sexes, everything. … ’Sign of the Times’ came from ‘This isn’t the first time we’ve been in a hard time, and it’s not going to be the last time.’ The song is written from a point of view as if a mother was giving birth to a child and there’s a complication. The mother is told, ‘The child is fine, but you’re not going to make it.’ The mother has five minutes to tell the child, ‘Go forth and conquer.'” The track was a breakthrough for both the artist and the band. “Harry really led the charge with that one, and the rest of the album,” says Bhasker.

“I wish the album could be called Sign of the Times,” Styles declares.

“I don’t know,” says Bhasker. “I mean, it has been used.“

They debate for a bit. Nasci plays more tracks. The songs range from full-on rock (“Kiwi”) to intricate psychedelic pop (“Meet Me in the Hallway”) to the outright confessional (“Ever Since New York,” a desperate meditation on loss and longing). The lyrics are full of details and references – secrets whispered between friends, doomed declarations of love, empty swimming pools – sure to set fans scrambling for the facts behind the mystery.

“Of course I’m nervous,” Styles admits, jingling his keys. “I mean, I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m happy I found this band and these musicians, where you can be vulnerable enough to put yourself out there. I’m still learning … but it’s my favorite lesson.”

The album is a distinct departure from the dance pop that permeates the airwaves. “A lot of my influences, and the stuff that I love, is older,” he says. “So the thing I didn’t want to do was, I didn’t want to put out my first album and be like, ‘He’s tried to re-create the Sixties, Seventies, Eighties, Nineties.’ Loads of amazing music was written then, but I’m not saying I wish I lived back then. I wanted to do something that sounds like me. I just keep pushing forward.”

“It’s different from what you’d expect,” Bhasker says. “It made me realize the Harry [in One D] was kind of the digitized Harry. Almost like a character. I don’t think people know a lot of the sides of him that are on this album. You put it on and people are like, ‘This is Harry Styles?’ ”

Styles is aware that his largest audience so far has been young – often teenage – women. Asked if he spends pressure-filled evenings worried about proving credibility to an older crowd, Styles grows animated. “Who’s to say that young girls who like pop music – short for popular, right? – have worse musical taste than a 30-year-old hipster guy? That’s not up to you to say. Music is something that’s always changing. There’s no goal posts. Young girls like the Beatles. You gonna tell me they’re not serious? How can you say young girls don’t get it? They’re our future. Our future doctors, lawyers, mothers, presidents, they kind of keep the world going. Teenage-girl fans – they don’t lie. If they like you, they’re there. They don’t act ‘too cool.’ They like you, and they tell you. Which is sick.“

Styles drives to a quiet dinner spot in Laurel Canyon, at the foot of Lookout Mountain Avenue, onetime home to many of his Seventies songwriting heroes. He used to have a place around the corner. As the later tours of One Direction grew larger, longer and more frenetic, he offers with irony, “It was very rock & roll.” He’s not a heavy drinker, he says, maybe some tequila on ice or wine with friends after a show, but by the band’s last tour there wasn’t much time even for that. John Lennon once told Rolling Stone that behind the curtain, the Beatles’ tours were like Fellini’s Satyricon. Styles counters that the One D tours were more like “a Wes Anderson movie. Cut. Cut. New location. Quick cut. New location. Cut. Cut. Show. Shower. Hard cut. Sleep.”

Finding a table, Styles leans forward and discusses his social-media presence, or lack thereof. Styles and his phone have a bittersweet, mature relationship – they spend a lot of time apart. He doesn’t Google himself, and checks Twitter infrequently. “I’ll tell you about Twitter,” he continues, discussing the volley of tweets, some good, some cynical, that met his endorsement of the Women’s March on Washington earlier this year. “It’s the most incredible way to communicate closely with people, but not as well as in person.” When the location of his London home was published a few years ago, he was rattled. His friend James Corden offered him a motto coined by British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli: “Never complain, never explain.”

I mention a few of the verbal Molotov cocktails Zayn Malik has tossed at the band in recent interviews. Here’s one: “[One D is] not music that I would listen to. If I was sat at a dinner date with a girl, I would play some cool shit, you know what I mean? I want to make music that I think is cool shit. I don’t think that’s too much to ask for.”

Styles adjusts himself in his chair. “I think it’s a shame he felt that way,” he says, threading the needle of diplomacy, “but I never wish anything but luck to anyone doing what they love. If you’re not enjoying something and need to do something else, you absolutely should do that. I’m glad he’s doing what he likes, and good luck to him.”

Perched on his head are the same-style white sunglasses made famous by Kurt Cobain, but the similarities end right there. Styles, born two months before Cobain exited Earth, doesn’t feel tied to any particular genre or era. In the car, he’ll just as easily crank up the country music of Keith Whitley as the esoteric blues-and-soul of Shuggie Otis. He even bought a carrot cake to present to Stevie Nicks at a Fleetwood Mac concert. (“Piped her name onto it. She loved it. Glad she liked carrot cake.”)

This much is clear: The classic role of tortured artist is not one he’ll be playing. “People romanticize places they can’t get to themselves,” he says. “That’s why it’s fascinating when people go dark – when Van Gogh cuts off his ear. You romanticize those people, sometimes out of proportion. It’s the same with music. You want a piece of that darkness, to feel their pain but also to step back into your own [safer] life. I can’t say I had that. I had a really nice upbringing. I feel very lucky. I had a great family and always felt loved. There’s nothing worse than an inauthentic tortured person. ‘They took my allowance away, so I did heroin.’ It’s like – that’s not how it works. I don’t even remember what the question was.”

Styles wanders into the Country Store next door. It’s a store he knows well. Inspecting the shelves, he asks if I’ve had British rice pudding. He finds a can that looks ancient. He collects a roll of Rowntrees Fruit Pastilles (“since 1881”), Lindor Swiss chocolates (“irresistibly smooth”) and a jar of Branston Pickles. “There’s only two shops in L.A. that stock all the British snacks. This area’s kind of potluck,” he says, spreading the collection on the counter.

The clerk rings up the snacks. In the most careful, deferential way, the young worker asks the question. “Would you … happen to be … Harry Styles?”

“Yep.”

“Could I get a selfie?” Styles obliges, and leans over the counter. Click. We exit into the Laurel Canyon evening.

“Hey,” shouts a grizzled-looking dude on the bench outside the store. “Do you know who you look like?”

Styles turns, expecting more of the same, but this particular night denizen is on a different track.

“River Phoenix,” the man announces, a little sadly. “You ever heard of him? If he hadn’t have passed, I would have said that was you. Talented guy.”

“Yes, he was,” agrees Styles, who is in many ways the generational opposite of Phoenix. “Yes, he was.”

They share a silent moment, before Styles walks to his car. He hands me the bag filled with English snacks. “This is for you,” he says. “This was my youth …”

Harry Edward Styles was born in Worcestershire, England, in true classic-rock form, on a Tuesday Afternoon. The family moved to Cheshire, a quiet spot in Northern England, when he was a baby. His older sister, Gemma, was the studious one. (“She was always smarter than me, and I was always jealous of that.”)

His father, Desmond, worked in finance. He was a fan of the Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac, a lot of Queen, and Pink Floyd. Young Harry toddled around to The Dark Side of the Moon. “I couldn’t really get it,” he says, “but I just remember being like – this is really fucking cool. Then my mom would always have Shania Twain, and Savage Garden, Norah Jones going on. I had a great childhood. I’ll admit it.”

But in fact, all was not perfection, scored to a cool, retro soundtrack. When Harry was seven, his parents explained to him that Des would be moving out. Asked about that moment today, Styles stares straight ahead. “I don’t remember,” he says. “Honestly, when you’re that young, you can kind of block it out. … I can’t say that I remember the exact thing. I didn’t realize that was the case until just now. Yeah, I mean, I was seven. It’s one of those things. Feeling supported and loved by my parents never changed.”

His eyes moisten a little, but unlike the young man who wept over an early bout with Internet criticism, a powerful moment in the early One Direction documentary A Year in the Making,Styles tonight knocks back the sentiment. Styles is still close with his father, and served as best man to his mom when she remarried a few years ago. “Since I’ve been 10,” he reflects, “it’s kind of felt like – protect Mom at all costs. … My mom is very strong. She has the greatest heart. [Her house in Cheshire] is where I want to go when I want to spend some time.”

In his early teens, Styles joined some school friends as the singer in a mostly-covers band, White Eskimo. “We wrote a couple of songs,” he remembers. “One was called ‘Gone in a Week.’ It was about luggage. ‘I’ll be gone in a week or two/Trying to find myself someplace new/I don’t need any jackets or shoes/The only luggage I need is you.'” He laughs. “I was like, ‘Sick.'”

It was his mother who suggested he try out for the U.K. singing competition The X Factor to compete in the solo “Boy” category. Styles sang Stevie Wonder’s “Isn’t She Lovely.” The unforgiving reaction from one of the judges, Louis Walsh, is now infamous. Watching the video today is to watch young Harry’s cheery disposition take a hot bullet.

“In that instant,” he says, “you’re in the whirlwind. You don’t really know what’s happening; you’re just a kid on the show. You don’t even know you’re good at anything. I’d gone because my mum told me I was good from singing in the car … but your mum tells you things to make you feel good, so you take it with a pinch of salt. I didn’t really know what I was expecting when I went on there.”

Styles didn’t advance in the competition, but Simon Cowell, the show’s creator, sensed a crowd favorite. He put Styles together with four others who’d failed to advance in the same category, and united the members of One D in a musical shotgun marriage. The marriage worked. And worked. And worked.

You wonder how a young musician might find his way here, to these lofty peaks, with his head still attached to his shoulders. No sex tapes, no TMZ meltdowns, no tell-all books written by the rehab nanny? In a world where one messy scandal can get you five seasons of a hit reality show … how did Harry Styles slip through the juggernaut?

“Family,” answers Ben Winston. “It comes from his mom, Anne. She brought him and his sister up incredibly well. Harry would choose boring over exciting … There is more chance of me going to Mars next week than there is of Harry having some sort of addiction.”

We’re in Television City, Hollywood. Winston, 35, the Emmy-winning executive producer of TheLate Late Show With James Corden, abandons his desk and retreats to a nearby sofa to discuss his good friend. More than a friend, Styles became an unlikely family member – after he became perhaps the world’s most surprising houseguest.

Their friendship was forged in the early stages of One D’s success, when the band debuted on The X Factor. Winston, then a filmmaker and production partner with Corden, asked for a meeting, and instantly hit it off with the group. He became a friendly mentor to Styles, though the friendship was soon tested. Styles had just moved out of his family home in Cheshire, an inconvenient three hours north of London. He found a home he liked near the Winstons in Hampstead Heath. The new house needed two weeks of work. Styles asked if he could briefly move in with Winston and his wife, Meredith. “She agreed,” Winston says, “but only for two weeks.”

Styles parked his mattress in the Winstons’ attic. “Two weeks later and he hadn’t bought his house yet,” continues Winston. “It wasn’t going through. Then he said, ‘I’m going to stay until Christmas, if you don’t mind.’ Then Christmas came, and …”

For the next 20 months, one of the most desired stars on the planet slept on a small mattress in an attic. The only other bit of house-dressing was the acoustic guitar that would rattle into the Winstons’ bedroom. While fans gathered at the empty house where he didn’t live, Styles lived incognito with a couple 12 years his senior. The Winstons’ Orthodox Jewish lifestyle, with a strong family emphasis, helped keep him sane.

“Those 20 months were when they went from being on a reality show, X Factor, to being the biggest-selling artists in the world,” recalls Winston. “That period of time, he was living with us in the most mundane suburban situation. No one ever found out, really. Even when we went out for a meal, it’s such a sweet family neighborhood, no one dreamed it was actually him. But he made our house a home. And when he moved out, we were gutted.”

Styles jauntily appears at the Late Late office. He’s clearly a regular visitor, and he and Winston have a brotherly shorthand.

“Leaving Saturday?” asks Winston.

“Yeah, gotta buy a cactus for my friend’s birthday,” says Styles.

“My dad might be on your flight,” says Winston.

“The 8:50? That’d be sick.”

Winston continues the tales from the attic. “So we had this joke. Meri and I would like to see the girls that you would come back with to the house. That was always what we enjoyed, because we’d be in bed like an old couple. We’d have our spot cream on our faces and we’d be in our pajamas and the door would go off. The stairwell was right outside our door, so we’d wait to see if Harry was coming home alone or with people.”

“I was alone,” notes Styles. “I was scared of Meri.”

“He wasn’t always alone,” corrects Winston, “but it was exciting seeing the array of A-listers that would come up and sleep in the attic. Or he’d come and lounge with us. We’d never discuss business. He would act as if he hadn’t come back from playing to 80,000 people three nights in a row in Rio de Janeiro.”

“Let’s go to the beach,” says Styles, pulling the Range Rover onto a fog-soaked Pacific Coast Highway. Last night was his tequila-fueled birthday party, filled with friends and karaoke and a surprise drop-in from Adele. He’s now officially 23. “And not too hung over,” he notes.

Styles finds a spot at a sushi place up the coast. As he passes through the busy dining room, a businessman turns, recognizing him with a face that says: My kids love this guy! I ask Styles what he hears most from the parents of young fans. “They say, ‘I see your cardboard face every fucking day.’ ” He laughs. “I think they want me to apologize.”

The subject today is relationships. While Styles says he still feels like a newcomer to all that, a handful of love affairs have deeply affected him. The images and stolen moments tumble extravagantly through the new songs: And promises are broken like a stitch is … I got splinters in my knuckles crawling ‘cross the floor/Couldn’t take you home to mother in a skirt that short/But I think that’s what I like about it … I see you gave him my old T-shirt, more of what was once mine … That black notebook, you sense, is filled with this stuff.

“My first proper girlfriend,” he remembers, “used to have one of those laughs. There was also a little bit of mystery with her because she didn’t go to our school. I just worshipped the ground she walked on. And she knew, probably to a fault, a little. That was a tough one. I was 15.

“She used to live an hour and a half away on the train, and I worked in a bakery for three years. I’d finish on Saturdays at 4:30 and it was a 4:42 train, and if I missed it there wasn’t one for another hour or two. So I’d finish and sprint to the train station. Spent 70 percent of my wages on train tickets. Later, I’d remember her perfume. Little things. I smell that perfume all the time. I’ll be in a lift or a reception and say to someone, ‘Alien, right?’ And sometimes they’re impressed and sometimes they’re a little creeped out. ‘Stop smelling me.'”

If Styles hadn’t yet adapted to global social-media attention, he was tested in 2012, when he met Taylor Swift at an awards show. Their second date, a walk in Central Park, was caught by paparazzi. Suddenly the couple were global news. They broke up the next month, reportedly after a rocky Caribbean vacation; the romance was said to have ended with at least one broken heart.

The relationship is a subject he’s famously avoided discussing. “I gotta pee first. This might be a long one,” he says. He rises to head to the bathroom, then adds, “Actually, you can say, ‘He went for a pee and never came back.’ ”

He returns a couple of minutes later. “Thought I’d let you stew for a while,” he says, laughing, then takes a gulp of green juice. He was surprised, he says, when photos from Central Park rocketed around the world. “When I see photos from that day,” he says, “I think: Relationships are hard, at any age. And adding in that you don’t really understand exactly how it works when you’re 18, trying to navigate all that stuff didn’t make it easier. I mean, you’re a little bit awkward to begin with. You’re on a date with someone you really like. It should be that simple, right? It was a learning experience for sure. But at the heart of it – I just wanted it to be a normal date.”

He’s well aware that at least two of Swift’s songs – “Out of the Woods” and “Style” – are considered to be about their romance. (“You’ve got that long hair slicked back, white T-shirt,” she sang in “Style.”) “I mean, I don’t know if they’re about me or not …” he says, attempting gallant discretion, “but the issue is, she’s so good, they’re bloody everywhere.” He smiles. “I write from my experiences; everyone does that. I’m lucky if everything [we went through] helped create those songs. That’s what hits your heart. That’s the stuff that’s hardest to say, and it’s the stuff I talk least about. That’s the part that’s about the two people. I’m never going to tell anybody everything.” (Fans wondered whether “Perfect,” a song Styles co-wrote for One Direction, might have been about Swift: “And if you like cameras flashing every time we go out/And if you’re looking for someone to write your breakup songs about/Baby, I’m perfect.”)

Was he able to tell her that he admired the songs? “Yes and no,” he says after a long pause. “She doesn’t need me to tell her they’re great. They’re great songs … It’s the most amazing unspoken dialogue ever.”

Is there anything he’d want to say to Swift today? “Maybe this is where you write down that I left!” He laughs, and looks off. “I don’t know,” he finally says. “Certain things don’t work out. There’s a lot of things that can be right, and it’s still wrong. In writing songs about stuff like that, I like tipping a hat to the time together. You’re celebrating the fact it was powerful and made you feel something, rather than ‘this didn’t work out, and that’s bad.’ And if you run into that person, maybe it’s awkward, maybe you have to get drunk … but you shared something. Meeting someone new, sharing those experiences, it’s the best shit ever. So thank you.”

He notes a more recent relationship, possibly over now, but significant for the past few years. (Styles has often been spotted with Kendall Jenner, but he won’t confirm that’s who he’s talking about.) “She’s a huge part of the album,” says Styles. “Sometimes you want to tip the hat, and sometimes you just want to give them the whole cap … and hope they know it’s just for them.”

In late February 2016, Styles landed a plum part in Christopher Nolan’s upcoming World War II epic, Dunkirk. In Nolan, Styles found a director equally interested in mystery. “The movie is so ambitious,” he says. “Some of the stuff they’re doing in this movie is insane. And it was hard, man, physically really tough, but I love acting. I love playing someone else. I’d sleep really well at night, then get up and continue drowning.”

When Styles returned to L.A., an idea landed. The idea was: Get out of Dodge. Styles called his manager, Jeffrey Azoff, and explained he wanted to finish the album outside London or L.A., a place where the band could focus and coalesce. Four days after returning from the movie, they were on their way to Port Antonio on Jamaica’s remote north coast. At Geejam, Styles and his entire band were able to live together, turning the studio compound into something like a Caribbean version of Big Pink. They occupied a two-story villa filled with instruments, hung out at the tree-house-like Bush Bar, and had access to the gorgeous studio on-site. Many mornings began with a swim in the deserted cove just down the hill.

Life in Jamaica was 10 percent beach party and 90 percent musical expedition. It was the perfect rite of passage for a musician looking to explode the past and launch a future. The anxiety of what’s next slipped away. Layers of feeling emerged that had never made it past One Direction’s group songwriting sessions, often with pop craftsmen who polished the songs after Styles had left. He didn’t feel stifled in One D, he says, as much as interrupted. “We were touring all the time,” he recalls. “I wrote more as we went, especially on the last two albums.” There are songs from that period he loves, he says, like “Olivia” and “Stockholm Syndrome,” along with the earlier song “Happily.” “But I think it was tough to really delve in and find out who you are as a writer when you’re just kind of dipping your toe each time. We didn’t get the six months to see what kind of shit you can work with. To have time to live with a song, see what you love as a fan, chip at it, hone it and go for that … it’s heaven.”

The more vulnerable the song, he learned, the better. “The one subject that hits the hardest is love,” he says, “whether it’s platonic, romantic, loving it, gaining it, losing it … it always hits you hardest. I don’t think people want to hear me talk about going to bars, and how great everything is. The champagne popping … who wants to hear about it? I don’t want to hear my favorite artists talk about all the amazing shit they get to do. I want to hear, ‘How did you feel when you were alone in that hotel room, because you chose to be alone?'”

To wind down in Jamaica, Styles and Rowland, the guitarist, began a daily Netflix obsession with sugary romantic comedies. Houseworkers would sometimes leave at night and return the next morning to see Styles blearily removing himself from a long string of rom-coms. He declares himself an expert on Nicholas Sparks, whom he now calls “Nicky Spee.” After almost two months, the band left the island with a bounty of songs and stories. Like the time Styles ended up drunk and wet from the ocean, toasting everybody, wearing a dress he’d traded with someone’s girlfriend. “I don’t remember the toast,” he says, “but I remember the feeling.”

Christmas 2016. Harry Styles was parked outside his childhood home, sitting next to his father. They were listening to his album. After lunch at a pub, they had driven down their old street and landed in front of the family home. Staring out at the house where Styles grew up listening to his father’s copy of The Dark Side of the Moon, there was much to consider. It was a long way he’d traveled in those fast few years since “Isn’t She Lovely.” He’d previously played the new album for his mother, on a stool, in the living room, on cheap speakers. She’d cried hearing “Sign of the Times.” Now he sat with his father – who liked the new song “Carolina” best – both having come full circle.

Styles is moved as he describes how he felt. We’re sitting in Corden’s empty office, talking over a few last subjects before he returns to England. “I think, as a parent, especially with the band stuff, it was such a roller coaster,” he says. “I feel like they were always thinking, ‘OK, this ride could stop at any point and we’re going to have to be there when it does.’ There was something about playing the album and how happy I was that told them, ‘If all I get is to make this music, I’m content. If I’m never on that big ride again, I’m happy and proud of it.’

“I always said, at the very beginning, all I wanted was to be the granddad with the best stories … and the best shelf of artifacts and bits and trinkets.”

Tomorrow night he’ll hop a flight back to England. Rehearsals await. Album-cover choices need to be made. He grabs his black notebook and turns back for a moment before disappearing down the hallway, into the future.

“How am I going to be mysterious,” he asks, only half-joking, “when I’ve been this honest with you?”

#HOW AM I GONNA BE MYSTERIOUS WHEN IVE BEEN THIS HONEST WITH U #thank u rolling stone #delivering us the harry content we deserve #i reread this whenever im down #and u should too #sigh #thanks cameron #and rob #haz #harry styles #rolling stone #harry styles rolling stone

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