#-happy. we can figure the logistics later this comes first. this is also why i am very protective of the whole 'im doing this for the-

[spotsupstuff]

Your OCS are so interesting and deep! How do you write their story? What inspires you?

thank you! n pfuuuuuu uhhhhhhh

considering that before all of this i was like "egh, fandom ocs, whatever, its like 2/50 that manage to catch my attention. and the last time i made smth so oc focused was when i was around 13, stuff is just not for me" i don't really know how i'm doin all of this!

writing big elaborate stories spanning ideally multiple decades to even centuries is smth that i do in basically every fandom i join with my whole heart, but that usually then revolves around canonical characters and (usually) the character dynamics already present there. i just kind of try to boost them in a direction that feels nice for me

how i'm managing to write an original story from basically a weak chicken scratch (specifically so considering i'm not looking at canon super hard for inspirations) is beyond me. it was all supposed to be originally just Fish and the Seafarer's family just kind of fucking around without much of a clear goal, after all!

but when it comes to writing stories and characters in general, i'mma tell you what my dad told me. "write what you know," a typical good advice, but then he added: "and what you know is your feelings. write about your feelings, From your feelings."

i am not smart with politics, i haven't lived through revolutions. i don't know this no matter how much i read on it. but i know what it means to be hurt by someone and wanting to right it. fight it. i analyze the feelings that jump at me from somewhere inside because of hearing a song and reading the wiki article of Joan of Arc. i relate it to the times i've been harmed. i take those feelings and use them as a fuel for Zephyr's creation

i know what it means to love someone so much you'll claw through the worst fucking depressive thoughts needling you to do the most horrid thing, just so you can ensure they won't have to go through the pain of mourning you. the raw feeling of a need to live for someone else. i remember so well what it felt like when i fell in love within a hug. what worry and fear i felt when i went to confess to the person who's now my dear partner- i've never been such a mess before. i know what i feel when he barges in through the door, squeals at me and gives me a kiss on the nose. i take all of that and lend it to Euros and Sparrows

the most engaging stories happen when you put a truthful piece of yourself into the characters, in my opinion. i don't know everything in the world, but i am capable of identifying what i feel, when and most of the time why too. nobody can dispute my inner processing with any fact on this whole planet. and this unshakeable truth then shapes and inspires what i make. it breathes life into the characters

[outsideratheart]

33 “I’ll let you sit on my knee.” with vicky losada

A/N: Day fifteen of the Christmas advent calendar.

“Y/N” 

The sound of someone whispering in your ear pulls you out of your peaceful slumber but you refuse to wake up, not fully anyways. 

“I know you’re awake” it wasn’t a whisper this time.

You hestiantly open one eye. The sight that you are met with is something you will never tire off. There, still in her pjs, sits your wife and more importantly she has a coffee in her hand. Whilst the act was sweet it did come with suspisions. When you moved into your new house she told you hot drinks in bed are only for special occasions seen as though in your previous apartment you had the habit of spilling the hot liquid but you blamed the fact that you had just woken up and wasn’t responsible for your actions.

“What you do want?” you often woke up with no filter.

The look of disapproval on her face doesn't go unrecognised. You know she isn't really mad but you also know that she isn’t happy with the way you have greeted her.

“Lo siento. Good Morning mi amor” you slowly sit up placing a peck on her lips when you get to her level “Now, what do you want?”

“What makes you think I want anything” Vicky was a terrible liar on her best days never mind when she has barely been up an hour.

You look her in the eyes and raise your right eyebrow.

“Vale” she holds up her hands in defeat “I want to go see santa”

Her words almost make you choke on your drink. Vicky sends you a knowing look seen as though you’re both in bed and you almost spilt coffee on the white bed sheets.

“You’re Spanish, you don’t believe in Santa Claus” 

You were very surprised when you first went to Spain with Vicky over the Christmas holidays. Like England, you expected to see Santa Claus after Santa Claus yet there wasn’t a single jolly fella in sight. One night as you laid in bed she told that she didn’t get told the same stories as you when she was younger. Instead of Santa delivering presents it was the three wise men or Reyes Magos as she referred to them.

“But you do” Vicky teases you.

“It’s not Santa that I believe in, it’s the magic and hope that this time of year brings” You know how cheesy you must have sounded but it was true. Your parents never told you that Santa wasn’t real, you figured out that logistically it wasn't doable but the belief in what the big man stood for runs through you today just as much as it did back then.

A couple of hours later, you and Vicky are walking hand in hand through the Christmas village that is at the garden centre not too far from where you live. It was incredible and you had been coming here since you were little so it held fond memories. There are elves causing mischieve, Reindeers that you can feed and most importantly they have the the man in red.

“Would you tell our children about Santa?

The question doesn’t catch you of guard in the slighest. The topic of children has been a popular one of the past few years. You and Vicky tried to have a baby through IVF just before COVID hit but it was never succesful. Although you wouldn’t admit it you knew that Vicky took part of the blame for this and the failed attempts took a toll on her both physically and mentally.

“If we raise them in England I will but if we raise them in Spain then I think I would raise them with the beliefs that they are surrounded by” You answer nonchalantly as you wander through Santa’s workshop.

“Will you bring our children here?” Vicky asks.

“I would. This place played a huge part in my childhood at Christmas time so I would like to share it with them”

If you were looking at your wife you would have seen the look of adoration and contemplation on her face. There was a reason why she asked to you to take her here and it had nothing to do with her wanting to see Saint Nick.

“Ready to go see the big guy?” You ask as you pull her towards the grotto.

“No” she snaps “Let’s get some food first” she in suit pulls you towards the cafe.

As you sit with hot chocolate and toasties you cannot help but feel like something is wrong with Vicky or that she is hiding something. When you came back to the table you saw her reading a piece of paper but quickly put it away when she saw you coming back. You can tell she is preoccupied with something but you don’t push her, she will come to you when she is ready.

“Baby” you reach across the table for her hand “Is everything ok?” 

“Perfecto” she places a kiss on the back of your hand.

It may not have been the whole truth but you knew she was being honest with you.

As you begin your adventure around the village she stops you when you get to Santa’s grotto.

You see her pull out a piece of paper, the same white sheet that she make the extra effort to hide from you not so long ago.

“I made Santa a list. Do you think it’s too much?” she asks you before giving you the list.

“Aren’t you little old to be writing a christmas list?” you pay no attention to the sheet of paper as your focus in on your wife but more so the look of anticipation on her face.

Her eyes dart from you then to the list and back at you, letting you know that she really wants you to look at it.

You read it and you mentally pat yourself on your back as you have got her what she wants but it the last item that catches you attention. 

The bottom of the paper reads:

Become parents

If this was your list, the strikethrough would mean you have already got it but her’s could mean that she no longer wants it. To say you were confused would be an understatement.

“Vicky?” when you look up, her eyes are brimming with tears “What do this mean?”

“I’m pregnant” 

Your eyes widen at her confession. You have so many questions running through your mind.

“I started trying again whilst you were at the Euros. I didn’t want to get your hopes up if it didn’t work but I felt like I was ready”

“We’re going to have a baby” Even as you said the words out loud you still didn’t believe them.

“We are. This will be our last Christmas just the two of us” Vicky doesn’t bother wiping the tears as they fall down her cheeks.

You pull her towards the santa’s grotto again.

“C’mon I need to ask him where he gets his suit from. I need a good one for when I dress for up our little one”

Vicky swears in that moment she falls even more in love with you as you begin telling her your plans for your future Christmases. You tell her how you will dress up so that your child can sit on your knee and tell you what they want for Christmas instead of some stranger.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you sit on my knee too but only if you’re a good girl”

[kaepop-trash]

Unintended Consequences

Cover by: @hyeincovers​

Rated: Smut, Slow burn (very slow), Strangers to lovers

Pairing: JohnnyxReader

Summary: When you took a week off of work for one of your best friend’s wedding— a week off that was incredibly tough to even acquire from your demanding job— there were things you were expecting: lots of drinking, seeing your friends after a long time, the warm beaches of the island your friend decided to tie the knot on. What you did not expect boiled down to exactly two things: an absolutely embarrassing encounter in the depths of intoxication, and the person who was at the cause of said encounter. Neither were you prepared for the unintended consequences that came from your public mortification.

Word Count: 40K (Genuine oops for this.)

(A/N): The elevator thing actually happened to me a year ago at a wedding. I absolutely had to say that and add that everything after that is pure fiction. No Johnny’s walking around casually at any wedding I’ve been to. I also deeply miss beaches. There’s also a playlist I can’t link on this because tumblr is difficult.

Miscellaneous Masterlist 

Day 1

“I’m very happy for you.” (Y/N) said as she took another sip of her drink, holding the glass close to her chest as a last line of defense, “I just don’t understand why you’d have a week long wedding.” She shrugged a little, wincing when she saw her friend’s face fall. “I mean don’t get me wrong. I think this place is something else, I can hear the waves everywhere. But I had to coax and threaten my boss for the days off. She’s also in general just not happy about the concept of weddings, so you can imagine the mental gymnastics I had to pull.” She took another sip of her drink, frowning down at the now empty glass when she realised that the bottom of the glass was mostly the remains of the melting ice cube.

“That’s because your boss is a frigid bitch, (Y/N).” Sooyoung rolled her eyes, making (Y/N) giggle. “I’m one of your best friends? Plus!” She pointed a finger dramatically, clearly a little drunk, “We both know your boss isn’t going to fire your workaholic, competent ass. She’s practically grooming you to be her. So just be happy for me okay?” She pouted at her.

“I am happy for you.” (Y/N) smiled for emphasis but Sooyoung just rolled her eyes.

“And enjoy you time? Go get a tan on the beach or something, swim a little. This is your first vacation in what? Three years? Consider it my gift to you.” She waved her hand like a fairy godmother.

“Two years.” She stuck her tongue out and Sooyoung stuck hers right back. “I am saving up for a new apartment, you know that.” 

Sooyoung gave her a wide tight-lipped smile, “Hence the gift part. You work too hard and you were going to die of a Vitamin D deficiency if I didn’t save you and whisk you away.” Sooyoung picked up two glasses from a server passing by and handed her one glass. (Y/N) scrunched her nose, usually particular about her drinks, but it was Sooyoung’s wedding week. So she drank it anyway.

“You could have spared me the work day by letting me booking an evening flight at the very least, you know. Your Groom isn’t even here yet! Taking a week off is too much to ask from my boss.” She continued defending herself, more out of jest now.

“He’s coming later tonight. It was a flight problem. Plus he insisted he come with all his groomsmen.” She rolled her eyes like it was a dumb idea.

“So exactly like you did?” (Y/N) raised a brow and Sooyoung smiled slyly. “So Doyoung and you are made for each other.” She scoffed but her friend expertly ignored the sarcasm.

“We are, aren’t we?” She made a small noise of excitement. (Y/N) made a face that made Sooyoung laugh.

(Y/N) groaned, “I’m going to go look for Joohyun, you’re being too in love. It’s disgusting.” She stuck her tongue out again and Sooyoung mirrored it.

On her quest to look for Joohyun, she managed to pick up a drink for herself. Looking around the crowd to find her easily lost friend. 

“Oh (Y/N), just the person I was looking for.” She turned as Jungwoo grabbed her arm. The other hand holding two glasses, the logistics of the balance momentarily caught her off guard. He pushed the glass into her hand, “Come on, let’s drink.” He gave her a wide grin.

She sighed as she looked at the small glass, “You could have at least had the dignity of getting a slice of lemon.” She frowned but he bought the glass up to his own lips, ignoring her. Unwillingly, she did the same, the liquid burning all way down to her stomach. She needed to eat some food.

“This is why I love you.” He spoke after he finished grimacing, “Let’s go get more shots.” His grin never left. (Y/N) laughed at his child-like excitement over the presence of the open bar.

“Sooyoung will be livid if the hotel staff has to peel us off the floor. Plus I’m looking for Joohyun.” She shifted on her feet as the heat of the alcohol spread in her belly, she hated shots.

“That’s an excellent idea. Let’s go find Joohyun and we can all do shots!” He laughed at his own idea like it was the best idea he had. She rubbed her forehead, frustrated with the conversation coming back to the same outcome.

“Can we at least get one of those canapes?” She bargained, pointing to a waiter passing by.

“Later.” Jungwoo slipped his arm into hers and waved his hands, “Joohyun!” He said, making her frown. How did he find her so easily when she’d been looking for so long?

She wasn’t sure what the time was when she got on the elevator. She kept her eyes on the floor, trying to stop her head spinning. In the distance the music still thumped, the bass of it vibrating in the cramped space. 

“Why did we leave so soon?” Jungwoo pouted at her.

“Because you puked in a cactus hedge and the hotel staff told you off for ruining the rock bed.” She glared at the floor, hoping her tone filled in her displeasure.

“This elevator is going down?” Wendy murmured. (Y/N) looked up to find her squinting at the buttons— the one to their floor was definitely pressed. But like Wendy said, the elevator was on it’s way down.

“You guys.” Yeri whispered, “I once watched a movie where this happened.” She said with a voice too full of dread.

“Where what happened?” Jungwoo asked nervously.

“The elevator went to the basement. And this witch stood there, her hair floating around her face.” She pulled her hair across her face for emphasis.

(Y/N) snorted, pushing her own suddenly uneasy nerves down.  (Y/N) blamed the alcohol and the tone of Yeri’s voice for the dread she felt. She tried to shake it off, “Are you talking about Inception?” She scoffed louder.

“Am I?” She looked at the floor, trying to recall.

The elevator dinged open in the basement and despite herself, (Y/N) looked out while her friends debated whether Inception deserved an Oscar. A figure emerged from the shadows in all black. Before she could help it, (Y/N) screamed and covered her face. Everybody in the elevator jumped in horror as the man walked into the elevator with wide eyes. She sank to the floor quickly, keeping her face covered with her hands. Her friends all burst out laughing and the sound that came from her lips were a mix of laughter and mortification. Her face felt so hot from embarrassment that it felt sticky.

“What happened?” A voice she didn’t know asked with concern. She stayed in place, crouched with her face covered. She did not need to see his face and she was glad he would not see hers.

“My friend thought you were a hairy witch.” Seulgi spoke, everybody burst into laughter again. If the ground opened up in the moment, she would jump in before it had a chance to swallow her.

“I like to believe I’m well groomed.” The other voice spoke again, laced with amusement. Earning himself another round of laughter, joining in himself.

(Y/N) stayed planted on the floor firmly with her identity masked till the elevator dinged.

“He’s gone now.” Yeri announced with a chuckle and finally she stood up, still mortified.

“That was the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Jungwoo said with a clap.

“I just want to go to bed.” She murmured.

Day 2

(Y/N) wasn’t sure when she actually fell asleep. After spending more than an hour in the shower to wash away her mortification and intoxication and tossing and turning in bed to fight reliving the incident in her head repeatedly she reminded herself that it was just a stranger— someone she would never see again and who had never seen her face. With that reassurance she finally managed to get a few odd hours of sleep.

At the moment she sat at a table in the hotel restaurant for breakfast. Her face felt so swollen from the alcohol and lack of sufficient sleep that her eyes pressed into her forehead— or maybe that was the hangover that was currently raging inside her skull, she couldn’t decide. Jungwoo scrapped his fork against his plate and she groaned, putting her head in her hands.

“Please. Have mercy.” She begged him and he apologised with a surprising amount of earnestness.

“Aren’t you going to eat something?” Joohyun pointed her knife at her.

“At some point. Since you so rudely woke me up.” She frowned at Joohyun, her current roommate.

“Nobody asked you to drink your weight in alcohol last night. You need to eat or you would miss the yacht party in the afternoon.” Joohyun reminded, unhelpfully. 

“Fuck that’s today.” She groaned, this time Wendy and Jungwoo joined her. She sighed to herself, looking back and forth till her eyes focused on the table with the juice canisters displayed on it. She focused on the large glass containers, frosted with the promise of ice cold juice and got out of her chair with a mission.

After roughly seven glasses, she felt partially human again. Giving into the rising growl in her stomach, she got up to find some food.

With a plate of eggs and sausages in her hand, she stood in front of the coffee machine, looking at the contraption with distrust. She missed her french press already but sighed and pushed the needed buttons.

“Four shots of espresso in one cup?” A voice spoke from behind her. She squinted, pretty sure she had heard it somewhere. But the person that came to stand beside her wasn’t anybody she had met.

“I like the elevated heartbeat it gives me. Like an adrenaline sport but without the immediate threat to my life.” She replied wryly, earning a chuckle.

“That’s quite ambitious.” He tapped his chin, making her look up at him.

“My mom says the same thing. I just like to consider myself a run-of-the-mill addict.” She shrugged, really not in the mood to make conversation while half her body was still shut from dehydration. It didn’t help that this man was attractive and this morning she looked like the claim she made of being an addict might hold some water. She frowned, the man seemed to straighten up.

He snorted and she noted his sudden discomfort with amusement, “No judgement from a fellow addict himself.” He shrugged and she smiled at the coffee machine. The machine squirted out it’s second espresso and she tapped her foot on the floor.

“Sorry for keeping you.” She said sheepishly.

“No rush, we’re all here for breakfast anyway.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. In a better state she’d give his muscles a better look over. Instead she kept tapping her foot on the floor.

“You seem to be in a rush though.” He looked down to her feet. She stopped her tapping, not knowing how to explain that her nature was impatience. 

Eventually the last espresso successfully reached her cup and she picked it up, considering the idea of using the kettle of hot water beside the machine more convenient than the rising anxiety she felt for holding someone up. He looked like he wanted to be out of here, and she wanted to currently cease existing because of her headache.

“Sorry for the wait.” She said quickly as she poured herself the water to fill the cup the rest of the way.

“And you drink it black.” He sounded pleased and she gave him a distracted nod and a concluding smile, walking away before he finished his thought. 

If it wasn’t nine am, she’d have better manners.

(Y/N) realised, rather unwillingly, that Joohyun was right. After the breakfast and a shower, she felt more prepared for the afternoon’s festivities. 

At the moment she stood in front of the mirror, putting on her mascara. As someone who constantly survived on questionable hours of sleep, the bar wasn’t set too high; nonetheless, she was impressed by her efforts to look presentable.

“I can’t believe our Sooyoung is getting married.” Joohyun spoke with a small gasp of surprise.

“Me neither. You’re all starting to leave me behind one by one.” (Y/N) joked, pleased when it worked to get Joohyun out of her reflective melancholy.

“You’ll get married one day too. And that day i’ll actually not believe it.” She chuckled to herself while folding a dress.

(Y/N) chuckled cynically, “There’s a long time till that day I can promise you that. I have to watch you go through your married life and at least a pregnancy first. Just to know that I am aware of what I will get into.” Joohyun blushed, throwing a towel on the bed at her back.

(Y/N) stood toward the back of the yacht, the stern, an over chatty guest had helpfully informed her a while back. She closed her eyes to feel the salty breeze on her face, enjoying the quick moment of quiet. Her phone was somewhere deep in her purse and her purse was somewhere deep below deck. There was no cellphone reception this far out and she settled her agitation by reminding herself that she was in fact on vacation. So she relaxed and breathe in the smell of the ocean around her. 

After her moment of peace, she decided to go back towards the party— mostly to get herself a glass of champagne and the fried chicken that Yeri promised her was the best part of the afternoon.

“(Y/N)!” Sooyoung gestured to come towards her eagerly just as (Y/N) encountered a tray filled with champagne flutes. She raised her glass to Sooyoung with a chuckle and walked towards her.

“I was looking for you!” Sooyoung said with a wide, happy smile. “You are yet to meet Doyoung’s friends, come on.” She put her arms through (Y/N)’s and pulled her towards a group of men chatting with each other. Sooyoung let her arm go only to put her elbow on Doyoung’s shoulder, who affectionately put his arm on her waist. 

“You’ve met my Doie, of course.” She grinned. The first time (Y/N) met Doyoung, he was embarrassed of Sooyoung using that nickname in front of others. Today he just smiled through his growing blush.

“How have you been, (Y/N)?” He asked her, “How’s work?” He tried to make conversation.

“Don’t ask her about work please.” Sooyoung swatted him making the others laugh, “She’s going to go off looking for that dreaded phone of hers again.” She chastised him and he apologised.

“Don’t scold your future husband. He’s just trying to be polite. He would ask me about my hobbies if we had more chances to talk about that.” She scolded Sooyoung back but she just gave her an unconvinced shrug. Doyoung gave her a grateful smile though.

“These are my friends, (Y/N).” Doyoung turned to the other people. “You’ve met some of them.” He said, while he introduced her to them. (Y/N) smiled at them, her eyes stopping on the man she recognised from the coffee machine.

“I’m Johnny.” He extended his hand to her, giving her a teasing smile. “If you didn’t walk away quite so fast in the morning I would have told you that.” His smile grew wider. She returned his smile, noting the Patek Philippe watch around his wrist.

“You’ve met?” Both Doyoung and Sooyoung asked at the same time.

“In the morning, while we both waited for our caffeine fix.” Johnny informed, making Sooyoung smile wide enough to make (Y/N) suspicious.

“You both live in New York, you know.” Sooyoung said eagerly. (Y/N) nodded at her, unsure of where she was going with this.

Johnny seemed to consider the information, smiling with intent. “Sooyoung, it seems you’ve been hiding your friend from me.” Johnny jabbed lightly and she laughed in response.

“Me? I haven’t seen (Y/N) for a year before the wedding. How do you get to meet her?” Sooyoung teased him back and Johnny laughed.

“It’s not my fault you moved to San Francisco.” (Y/N) reminded Sooyoung. She just waved the accusation away, making (Y/N) smile.

“(Y/N)!” Jungwoo’s voice almost filled her with relief. She had started to feel a little out of place among people she didn’t know that well. She turned to where he spoke from, giving him a pleading gaze in hope that he would take her away. “Have you tried the fried chicken yet?” He spoke as he approached, stopping halfway to look at somebody else.

“You!” Jungwoo said, suddenly laughing. “Oh my god, you’re Doyoung’s friend?” He clapped his hands together in delight. She looked back at Johnny, confused by Jungwoo’s acknowledgement.

“How’s your friend?” Johnny spoke, a smirk settling on his face, “I hope I didn’t give her too much of a fright.” Jungwoo opened his mouth, before turning to (Y/N). 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He giggled, straightening up when she glared at him.

(Y/N) turned to face Johnny so slowly, almost too aware of how suddenly everybody around her had their eyes on her. She knew his voice sounded familiar in the morning. He was also too monstrously tall for there to be more than one. She bit her lips like it would somehow stop the blood from pooling into her cheeks.

“Oh?” Johnny raised a brow, an intrigued smile on his face.

“Who else did you think was small enough to crouch down so efficiently into a ball on command.” Jungwoo clapped her back with acknowledgement, unaware of how she was resisting the urge to push him into the sea. Johnny looked her up and down, as if realising that she was in fact too short. To her horror, his smile only grew wider. It didn’t help that he was the tallest one around.

“What’s going on?” One of the men, Ten she remembered, asked out loud.

“I was wondering the same thing.” Sooyoung mumbled.

“Let’s go try that fried chicken yeah?.” (Y/N) pulled Jungwoo away quickly, pinching his arm when he tried to protest.

“Why would you do that?” (Y/N) hissed when they both reached a respectable distance. She shoved him towards the railing to satisfy part of her urge to shove him off-board. Jungwoo looked at her with his best innocent face. “He didn’t see me, you know? I could have gone this entire week without this humiliation.” She whined.

“Don’t be dramatic.” Jungwoo rolled his eyes, swallowing a choked cough when she glared daggers at him, “I mean, does it matter?” He laughed nervously. “Just some light fun that you’ll laugh about in a few years I’m sure.” He chuckled by himself, “(Y/N) please.” He blew air from between his lips dismissively to emphasize his point.

“Maybe we should tell people about your incident in the cactus bush.” She narrowed her gaze at him, taking the smile from his face.

Jungwoo laughed nervously and looked around before jumping up and pointing to the crowd, “He’s coming here, (Y/N)! Elevator guy.” Jungwoo whispered. She straightened up and grabbed Jungwoo again, walking away into the crowd. When she turned back, her eyes met Johnny’s for a brief moment. She turned away, not lingering on his smile.

Jungwoo pulled his arm out from her hold once they were two decks below, “You can’t exactly escape him on a boat. Vastly limited escape routes.” He said it like she somehow didn’t understand that.

“I can at least try. You put me in this situation,” She pointed an accusatory finger. “So humour me, Kim Jungwoo.” She groaned.

Jungwoo pouted at her, “We didn’t even get to have the chicken.” He whined earning an incredulous glare.

“We’ll get it on the way out.” She sighed in defeat.

“Or we can just get it when they cut the cake.” Jungwoo shrugged with excitement. When she frowned Jungwoo laughed, “Excuse you, Sooyoung is up to her forehead with wedding nerves. She will skin us both alive if we aren’t in the pictures. You’re usually the one I’d be more scared of, but bridezilla wins any fight.” Jungwoo scoffed. (Y/N) was at a loss, of course she couldn’t miss that. Sooyoung would be devastated. She slumped her shoulders in defeat, giving him a nod.

(Y/N) was too aware of the eyes from across the crowd that were singled in on her, but Johnny didn’t move from his spot. She stood across the cake, taking a small amount of pleasure in a victory that was short-lived. In a week long wedding, she would inevitably have to see the man countless times, especially considering he was one of the groomsmen. At the moment though, she kept her eyes on Sooyoung who looked content as she and Doyoung cut a small cake that Wendy assured her was only that size to not outshine her actual wedding cake. She thought of what Joohyun said earlier in the day as she turned to find her trying her best to hold back her tears. Sooyoung really was getting married and (Y/N) was happy for her.

As the sun set beyond the horizon, the festivities of the day seemed to slow down. The music dropped to a slower tempo above her as (Y/N) tried to dig through the coats and bags below deck to find hers. Why someone would bring a coat to a tropical retreat was beyond her. She sighed with relief when she finally spotted her bag, pulling it out eagerly. Now that they were steering back towards the coast, the reception was bound to return.

“Oh, I didn’t realise someone was–” She jumped, caught off guard. She turned to find Johnny watching her, the same amused smirk on his face— maybe that was just what his face looked like. 

“Are you usually this jumpy?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, studying her.

“I was just looking for my bag.” She held up the object, like it was evidence.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I just needed to make a call. I was hoping the reception would be back already.” He laughed effortlessly, running his fingers through his hair— ruining the hold of whatever product there was in it. Infuriatingly, it still looked really good. 

(Y/N) blinked, realising that she was staring at him. He smirked at her again, looking her over again. Her mouth felt a little dry at the scrutiny, and she resisted the urge to lick her lips. Instead he licked his, preparing to say something. Her phone rang loudly in her bag as he opened his mouth. She yelped and he let out a laugh at her response.

“I guess the reception is back.” She laughed awkwardly, looking away to rummage through her bag and holding up her phone to her ear. “Hello?” She spoke into the object, turning away from him with a surge of relief.

As the yacht finally docked at shore, (Y/N) was sure there was some altar she needed to leave some offerings at out of gratitude for the sheer luck she had today: avoiding Johnny all day. On the other hand, one of her clients had urgently gotten in touch and given her work that she was sure would occupy the rest of her evening. Her assistant called as she walked down the deck towards the resort, a hand on her shoulder stopping her.

“We’re going for a drink at the hotel bar with Doyoung’s friends, join us.” Sooyoung said, her smiling fading when (Y/N) gave her a sheepish one in return.

“I promised my boss I’d be available remotely. A client needs something urgently, if I don’t do it now I won’t be free tomorrow.” (Y/N) said apologetically. Sooyoung sighed but put on a smile. “It’s fine, it’s just a drink anyway.” She tried to mask her disappointment, “Go before I change my mind!” She pushed her playfully.

With years of experience and immense help from her assistant, (Y/N) managed to finish her work just short of midnight. Realising that she wasn’t tired enough to sleep, she called the reception; they helpfully informed her that the pool and gym were open 24/7 on account of the wedding party.

After a round on the treadmill, (Y/N) was in the pool. She sighed as she floated around, relishing it. She loved swimming, and with a sigh she realised that she had been here for two days now and it was her first time visiting the pool. She lifted from the surface, the sound of the crashing waves returning the moment the water dripped out of her ears. She looked out towards the ocean— the moon and lighting across the property making it visible. A sigh that was meant to be wistful came out melancholic as she turned away, taking a dip under the surface of the water. 

The second time she emerged, her eyes fell towards the glass wall that made the gym overlook the pool. Behind the glass, Johnny sat on a stationary bike.

Her breath caught in her throat.

 It was fairly obvious that he was watching her; not bothering to look away when their eyes met. She felt her cheeks heat under his gaze, realising that it wasn’t from embarrassment this time but the look in his eyes. Heat pooled in her stomach despite the cold water she was surrounded by and he still made no effort to look away. She stood frozen, her feet far from the ground this close to the deep end but she tried her best to keep her face up. She realised that her heart was beating very fast. 

Johnny was an attractive man no doubt, but as his eyes bored into her and he licked his lips, she was suddenly too aware of how attractive he was. His lips parted into a smile, the same one he seemed to always have for her— like they both shared a secret. (Y/N)’s toes felt cold, like all her blood was rushing away from the extremes of her body.

All too quickly, his lips turned down. 

He frowned and lifted away from the bike handles, sitting up straight and tapping on his ear. When he looked away and looked like he spoke, she realised he answered a phone call. She was about to turn away when he gave her one last glance, a passing expression of apology and impatience in them. Then he got up and left the gym.

(Y/N) let out a breath she had held on for a moment too long. What was wrong with her? She shook her head and got out of the pool, reprimanding herself all the way to her room. When she got on the elevator, a pained laugh left her lips.

“You’re stupid and the fact that your friend is getting married is getting to you, (Y/N).” She mumbled to herself as she dried her hair with a towel.

Day 3

It was a vile six in the morning when (Y/N) waited in the lobby with her friends for the rest of the party to show up so they could go visit the town nearby and buy trinkets at the market. Jungwoo walked in after a few minutes with a croissant sandwich in his hands making Yeri frown at him.

“What? I wasn’t going to skip breakfast.” He spoke with his mouth stuffed.

“How are you eating that so early in the morning.” Yeri wrinkled her nose and he stuffed the sandwich under her nose in response, making her shriek and swat him away.

“You’re too loud.” Joohyun scolded them with both her index fingers inside her ears. 

Sooyoung and Doyoung walked in amidst the chaos, with Sooyoung laughing at Yeri’s annoyed expression.

“You aren’t allowed to look this perfect at this ungodly hour.” Yeri groaned, making Sooyoung flick her hair in response.

“It’s the honeymoon glow.” Seulgi nodded, while eating a croissant sandwich Jungwoo carried along for her on her request.

“They aren’t married yet.” (Y/N) looked at Seulgi like she was being ridiculous.

“Look around you. This is a honeymoon.” Jungwoo scoffed and they had to all agree with a thoughtful hum.

Sooyoung turned to Doyoung, “Yes, they’re always like this. Welcome to the family.” She patted his back sympathetically.

Doyoung scoffed, “They aren’t as insane as the boys, don’t worry.” He laughed, “I think you guys are charming.” He smiled affectionately.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was sarcastic.” Jungwoo whispered to Yeri who sighed in response.

“Everybody can hear you. Shut up.” She said back in the same volume, making Doyoung laugh.

Doyoung’s friends walked in a moment later, laughing amongst themselves about something.

“Why are all of Doyoung’s friends so good looking?” Wendy leaned over to whisper to (Y/N)— an actual whisper compared to Jungwoo. She turned to Wendy, raising an eyebrow at her and making her blush. “What? I know you’ve thought about it too. Don’t judge me.” She sputtered, making (Y/N) smile at her.

“Good for you, you’ve got an entire week to explore that thought.” (Y/N) winked at her with encouragement, “Plus I’m sure Sooyoung will be more than glad to set you up.” She suppressed a laugh as her words seemed to make Wendy look away with a shy shake of her head.

“Where’s Johnny?” Doyoung’s voice caught her attention, making her turn to the group of men, noticing the missing one.

“Something about an important buy-out.” Mark spoke up, “I’ll be honest I wasn’t paying a lot of attention, but he was up all night and he’s still working on it.” Mark shrugged. 

(Y/N) looked away, feeling dumb for the disappointment that gently nudged at her chest. She was avoiding him, because she was embarrassed to be around him. She shouldn’t be that fickle, especially over a single moment from across a pool and a glass wall.

By the time the sun was above their head, most of them were loaded with shopping bags. Ten and Yuta offered to carry their bags if it got too heavy and (Y/N) was sure they regretted the offer with just Yeri’s freight. Doyoung insisted on carrying Sooyoung’s bags, but she was kind enough to share the burden.

At the moment, the rest of them looked for a restaurant to eat at while Mark and (Y/N) went in search of a brass bowl. 

“Hey (Y/N), I think I found it!” Mark announced as he pointed at a small shop where sure enough, she could see the bowls she had been in search of. While they looked around the shop, Mark’s phone rang.

“Hey dude!” He stretched the last word with a giggle. Whatever came in response seemed to surprise him because he made a very audible sound implying the same, before stepping outside and squinting at the name of the shop. He seemed to focus on it for a long time before probably realising that it wasn’t in a language he understood. (Y/N) tried to bite back a smile as he walked back into the shop with a defeated sigh.

“Hey (Y/N).” He sounded unsure as he spoke, “Do you know where we are?” He scratched his head. When she nodded his eyes lit up, going wide. “Wait (Y/N) knows!” He smiled at her, giving her a thumbs up that she felt compelled to return. She gave him the name of the market and he tried his best to reiterate the name to whoever was on the phone.

Mark paused mid-sentence, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “Yeah just call Doyoung, the restaurant will probably be easier to find.” He let out an awkward laugh, “Sorry dude.” He chuckled awkwardly. This time she snorted, finding Mark’s disposition hilariously animated. When Mark hung up the phone, he didn’t seem annoyed by her laugh. In fact he seemed amused himself.

“Thanks dude.” Mark said before stuttering and correcting himself, “I mean, (Y/N).” He put his palm to his face,groaning. “Thanks (Y/N).” He winced at himself.

(Y/N) shook her head at him, eyes glittering with humour, “You can call me dude.” She chuckled. “I don’t mind.” 

They left the shop with two bowls wrapped in newspaper. Mark asked twice if she needed help carrying her things but she insisted they weren’t heavy.

“Mark!” A voice came from behind them, making them both turn.

Johnny waved at Mark, walking towards them with quick strides that looked effortless with his long legs. He wore black cargo pants with a sleeveless white t-shirt that made his biceps very visible as he walked closer. A pair of sunglasses sat perched on his nose which made it hard to tell if he noticed her. Yet when his lips bloomed into his signature smile, the sunglasses made no difference. That was the smile he gave her, it was her smile. 

The thought made unsolicited butterflies rise up her stomach and move around her chest.

“Hi.” He greeted her casually, making his lopsided grin look effortless. She gave him a wave, mentally slapping herself for not having something better to say.

“I can’t believe you actually came dude!” Mark gave him a fist bump, “I thought you’d crash after staying up all night.” 

Johnny just shrugged at his words. “I can sleep later.” He took off his sunglasses, slipping it into his collar. “So, what are we doing?” He smiled at both of them.

“Well, (Y/N) and I bought these brass bowls she was talking about on the ride here. They’re really nice.” Mark lifted the one in his hand. Johnny let his mouth hang, looking at Mark mockingly, “Did you want one?” Mark laughed.

“I can’t believe you forgot about me, Dude. I thought we were friends.” Johnny huffed and Mark nudged his shoulder.

“The shop is right there. Come on we can get you one.” Mark giggled at the end of the sentence, laughing at Johnny’s ridiculous indignation. On her part, she watched the exchange, thoroughly amused. The Johnny that stood in front of her right now was so different from the one she had, however briefly, encountered so far.

“You have to buy it for me.” Johnny crossed his arms in front of him and huffed. 

Mark nodded with another giggle, pushing him towards the shop. “You’re embarrassing yourself in front of (Y/N), you big dork!” 

Johnny didn’t deter, turning to her with his grin, “We’re fine with a little embarrassment between us aren’t we, (Y/N)?” He winked, laughing when she gave him a flustered nod.

That was the first time her name rolled off his tongue and for a moment that was all she could think about. 

Johnny entered a few more shops, each time playfully asking Mark if he would buy him what he wanted this time. Each time he ended up paying for it himself. What an odd guy, she thought. She realised that maybe, Johnny just liked to tease people. He sure did enjoy flustering her quite a bit. 

(Y/N) toyed with the carving of a frog. The green of the lacquer used on the bronze sculpture was so beautiful that she enjoyed looking at it for a moment.

“Do you like it?” Johnny’s voice softly brushed against her ear. She hummed in response, failing to notice the way his eyes lit up, “Well, you aren’t jumping in my presence anymore. I consider that progress.” 

She chuckled at the words, looking up at him and shrugging. “I guess you aren’t a hairy witch after all.” Amusement glinted in his eyes, mirroring the glint in hers.

“I told you. I’m a decently groomed man.” He huffed. At his words, her eyes glanced over to his arms, looking over the contours and noting the slightest glint of perspiration from the humidity. Before she could give it a thought, she swallowed; her eyes travelling up to his clavicle till it came back to his face. In response, Johnny licked his lips and for a moment she was sure she felt it in the pit of her stomach. Her lips parted, taking in a breath that betrayed her by shaking. The space between them was suddenly too close and not close enough. The fact that they were inside a shop that overlooked the street was tucked in the corner of her mind for a second.

“(Y/N).” His voice was a respectable inch short of an outright growl. He took the smallest step closer and his shadow completely covered her, he looked down at her with a gleam in his eyes that looked so irresistibly cautious— making her want to know what exactly he was holding back.

“Johnny?” She was almost impressed by how level her voice sounded. How she managed to sound so confident under the gaze he was giving her was not something she could ponder over in the moment without losing that small thread of confidence entirely. 

This time he took in an inhale, a shallow and choked one much to her satisfaction. At least they stood on equal ground now, the idea only made her yearn to have the upper hand. She stood in place like her feet were embedded into the slate floor, willing him silently to take just a few more steps.

“Guys we’re late!” Mark shrieked.

She saw the smallest flash of annoyance in Johnny’s eyes before he took a deep breath, combing his fingers through his hair.

“Did you get anything?” Johnny turned to Mark, no hint of what she witnessed moments before in his voice. She swallowed, realising that it only made her find him more attractive.

Mark nodded to Johnny in response to his question, holding up the bag in his hand as proof.

“Alright, head out then. I’ll just pay for the things I want and catch up.” He gave them both a smile.

Johnny caught up with them soon enough, coming to stand beside (Y/N) so she stood between him and Mark. He smiled as he looked up at the sky, their collective shopping bags rustling as they walked towards the restaurant they were meant to be at a while back.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Johnny sighed as he looked up at the sky. She followed his gaze. 

He was right, it was a beautiful day. The sky was a saturated blue, with thick white clouds that moved against it leisurely. The sun was warm on her face but the cool marine breeze soothed it’s tinge. It was a perfect day. One she tried to focus on even as Johnny’s eyes fell on her face and she tried to act like she didn’t notice.

“So what do you do, Mark?” She turned away from the sky and Johnny’s gaze.

“I work in publishing.”

“Oh so you live in New York too?” The thought made her smile.

Mark turned to her, eyes lost, before something clicked into place. “Oh that’s right! You live in New York!” Mark laughed and Johnny laughed behind her, at what she assumed was Mark’s excitement. “We should totally meet sometime.” He paused to take a quick breath, “And I’m not just saying that, okay? It’s hard to make friends in such a big city. I mean, I’m from Canada!” He added like it was an adequate explanation.

“Yeah, if they don’t smile and someone once a day, they get kidnapped in the night by a moose.” Johnny leaned in close to inform her, making her snort at the image.

“And you can’t tell me you’re busy like him.” Mark pointed an accusatory finger at Johnny, making him put a hand on his chest in mock affront. “He tells me he has so much work that he doesn’t have time to eat, and then we end up drinking at his apartment.” Another thought made his eyes widen further than she even thought possible. Mark clapped his hands together, “You should join us. We’re fun, aren’t we Johnny?” He asked Johnny eagerly.

“Come now, (Y/N) doesn’t need to witness the intoxicated recitations of your poetry.” Johnny said, his words making Mark’s face go red.

Before she could answer Johnny tugged at the bags in her hands, “Do you want me to carry those?” He asked casually.

“No, I’m fine.” She responded politely.

“They seem heavy.” He looked down, “Plus they keep hitting your knee.” He squinted at the realisation, no doubt finding it odd.

(Y/N) laughed, “That’s because I’m short, not much space between the arms and knees.” She lifted the bags for emphasis. Whatever thought passed Johnny’s mind, he kept it to himself, swallowing his smirk and nodding.

“I’m just saying, it’s not that big a deal to let me carry it.” He shrugged.

“You have your own bags. Otherwise I just might have taken up on your offer.” She chuckled, readjusting her grip on the bags. He looked down at the motion. “Plus,” She added before he insisted again, “We’re already here.” She looked ahead, making him follow her eyes. He smiled when he saw Doyoung waving at them from an open terrace above.

“Where were you? I thought Mark got you lost or something.” Doyoung asked as they approached the table.

“Excuse me? Is this how little you think of me? (Y/N) and I went to get something we both wanted and then Johnny Suh appeared out of thin air with a desire for retail therapy.” Mark pointed his head to the stuff in Johnny’s hands. Doyoung’s other friends cheered when they noticed Johnny— an odd gesture but nonetheless she had come to understand that Doyoung’s friends were a loud bunch.

“I guess you took my advice after all,” Yuta turned in his chair towards Johnny.

“What advice?” Doyoung asked.

“To enjoy his goddamn vacation.” Yuta chuckled when the table laughed.

“You know, that’s exactly what I told (Y/N).” Sooyoung spoke into her water glass, taking a sip when (Y/N) turned to glare at her.

“We do have two busy bodies amongst us don’t we.” Doyoung spoke while nibbling the stem of his sunglasses, looking at the both of them.

“Who here isn’t busy.” (Y/N) chuckled.

“Yeah but you both like it.” Sooyoung shuddered at the thought.

“That’s why (Y/N) was scared out of wits that night?” Jungwoo hid his smile behind his palm.

“She saw her own reflection?” Yeri added, making Jungwoo laugh in agreement as they both high-fived.

“Nevermind this.” Taeyong spoke up, “Stop ganging up on our friends. You haven’t even let them sit down.” He chastised.

“Here.” Jungwoo raised his hand, “We saved you seats.” He pointed at the empty chairs beside him.

Before (Y/N) reached her chair, Johnny pulled it out for her. She raised a brow at him but he just gave her a light hearted smile, one she felt compelled to return. Across the table, Sooyoung raised her brow at Doyoung, both of them watching the interaction before looking towards each other, a silent communication passing between them.

“Did you really buy matching bowls with the Mark Lee fellow?” Jungwoo leaned towards (Y/N) and asked after a moment, jutting his chin towards Mark as he sat down opposite them.

She turned to him, not answering him. Just staring till he got unnerved.

“Just remember that we’re best friends! Just because he lives in the same city as you doesn’t mean I can be replaced.” Jungwoo huffed, taking a sip of his juice.

“Right now I’m dangerously close to considering it.” She shrugged, holding back a smile when he slid his juice towards her.

“It’s pineapple. I know you like it.” He nudged it again. 

She pushed it back towards him, “The waiter will show up, I can just order one for myself.” She gave him a close mouthed smile.

“Look, (Y/N)!” Jungwoo jabbed a finger at her arm, making her wince, “He said he wants watermelon juice.” He can’t possibly be your best friend.” Jungwoo scoffed, blowing air from between his lips rather dramatically.

(Y/N) laughed this time, “What are you even talking about?” She laughed again. “I love watermelons.” She ruffled Jungwoo’s hair. “And for the record, all of you are my best friends. But if we were keeping score, Sooyoung is the closest to the title.” She laughed again.

“That’s right.” Sooyoung spoke across the table, making Jungwoo turn to her to find her narrowing her gaze at him.

“Shit I was loud again, wasn’t I?” Jungwoo bit his tongue visibly and she laughed again, both amused and done with his antics.

“What about me?” Wendy asked (Y/N) with indignation.

Sooyoung scoffed,“Please, we all know you and Seulgi are stuck by the hip. Don’t try to take her away from me.” She turned to her. Beside Wendy, Seulgi nodded in admittance.

“I love watermelons.” Mark said softly, giving Jungwoo a soft look, “But I like pineapples too.” He said hopefully. Jungwoo looked up, a smile forming on his lips. He pointed at him with a pleased smile.

“We can get along.” He announced, making Mark’s face brighten up.

(Y/N) laughed, turning to Johnny to find him watching her. The smile he had was a new one. She rested her chin on her shoulder, squinting at him.

“What?” She chuckled when he didn’t look away. Johnny just shook his head, resting his cheek in his palm, keeping his eyes on her.

“So.” Seulgi started, “What do you do, Johnny?” She toyed with a piece of tissue, her gaze on him. He peeled his gaze away from (Y/N) with leisure, sitting up straight when he faced Seulgi.

“I’m an investment banker.” He shrugged, not holding her eye contact.

“That explains the watch.” Yeri murmured, making (Y/N) and Sooyoung turn to her with horror. Wendy nodded in agreement with Yeri. “What?” She said defensively when she noticed the glares, “You told me that the best way to judge a man was his watch.” She pointed at (Y/N), making her put her hand on her temple.

“Yeri!” Joohyun coaxed her with her eyes to stop talking, but it was too late. (Y/N) just stayed in her position, turning to give Johnny a nervous laugh.

“She’s right.” Johnny shrugged, “Shoes too.” He nodded in agreement.

“That’s exactly what she said!” Yeri spoke up in excitement.

“Fuck me.”(Y/N) groaned, the embarrassment just piling on.

“Here?” Johnny clicked his tongue, catching her off guard. Before she could process, he moved on. “You’ve got taste, (Y/N). I didn’t know you liked watches.” He flicked his wrist and raised the dial. “What do you think about this one?” He asked curiously. 

She looked at the Piguet on his wrist, giving him an appreciative nod, “I like it better than what you wore yesterday. Though that’s just personal preference.” She added tapping her own wrist, Johnny’s eyes going to the watch, the same maker as his. Johnny smiled, pleased with that, it gave her the confidence to ask her next question, “What is your favourite?”

“It’s a Vacheron I got myself after an important IPO.” He said, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“So you’re basically a collector.” She gave him her own pleased smile.

“Is that good?” He asked.

“It’s better than buying one just because it’s the most expensive.” She shrugged.

“Can we order food?” Haechan’s voice snapped, both their gaze fluttering away towards him, “I’m very happy for you Johnny but it’s one in the afternoon and I haven’t eaten breakfast.” Haechan groaned.

On the way back, (Y/N) watched the scenery pass by outside the window. She tried to stay still as Joohyun slept on her shoulder, and Yeri on hers. Sooyoung turned back from one of the front seats, waving to get her attention. (Y/N) raised both her brows at her when she acquired it.

“You aren’t allowed to skip dinner tonight. If any of your clients have something to say, tell them that the glass ceiling is bad enough without them encroaching on your free time.” She warned in earnest. (Y/N)’s eyes danced with mirth as she nodded at her.

“I’m going to go back and go to the gym for a bit, okay?” She bit her lip. “Then I’m going to be at dinner.” Her eyes edged to the back of Johnny’s head that peaked from on top of his seat. She wondered if he was asleep, whether he heard her words. Sooyoung gave her a thumbs up before turning back to Doyoung to say something, letting (Y/N) settle back into her view watching.

(Y/N) took a deep breath as she lifted herself off the floor, music blaring in her ears to distract her from the burn in her muscles. She relished in the way her lungs burned, her mind clearing up in the way it did when she focused on physical activity. 

She thought about Johnny, failing to ignore the way her insides clenched at the idea. There was nothing wrong with flirting with an attractive man, she reassured herself. Yet, a better part of her knew that she was messing with a person. She fell back on the floor with a huff, breathing rapidly as her lungs adjusted to the rest. She chastised herself again, he was also Doyoung’s friend. 

She took another shallow breath. She tried not to entertain the idea of something more than casual flirting. He was clearly also preoccupied with his job, there would be no need for her to even consider more. A better person would just cut it out, spare the man the means to an end.

She felt the reverberations of footsteps on the wooden floor, lifting her head to see Johnny walk into the gym. She rested her head back on the floor to stare at the ceiling lights, a smile playing at the edge of her lips— so he was awake in the van after all.

He came and stood above her as her slowly steadying breath picked up again. He was so incredibly attractive that it was hard to be a better person. He parted his lips, saying something she couldn’t hear over her music. She lifted a finger at him, taking a bud out of her ear.

“Yes?” She asked, Johnny bit back a smile.

“Need help?” He raised a brow. She bit her lip and his eyes drifted down to them.

She could try to be a better person when she was back home.

“Do I look like I need help?” She feigned confusion. Johnny crossed his arms in front of his chest, she took note of the black sleeveless shirt that hung from his shoulders.

“No.” He paused, his frame still silhouetted under the lights, and she sat up on the mat to get a better look at him. “But I’d like to anyway.” He grinned when she nodded. 

He sat down at her feet, putting his arms around her shin. She was grateful for her already shallow breath and flushed face in the moment. She put her palms flat on the floor behind her, watching him for a moment, enjoying the sight of him with his arms around her legs and staring up at her. Her breath quickened a little, lips parting to take in a breath. On his part, he looked like he was enjoying her attention; no visible effects of anything on his face.

“Well?” He raised a brow at her. 

Bastard, she thought with a smirk, lying back down to continue her crunches.

“So,” Johnny spoke up as she got a few crunches in, “What do you do for fun?” He asked in a conversational tone.

“I have a personal goal of finding the best restaurants in New York,” She sat up, meeting his eyes, “Categorised according to cuisines of course.”

“That’s an interesting hobby.” He grinned, she shrugged at him, trying to think of other things one would consider a hobby.

“I cook sometimes," She added, "Trying to become really good at it actually.” She huffed as she fell back. 

Johnny hummed, “As someone who is a terrible cook, how does one get better?” He questioned when her eyes lifted to meet his gaze.

“You make something.” He laughed at the simple answer as she fell back, “And then when you fuck up, you consider all the things that possibly went wrong.” Their eyes met again.

“Is everything a competition to you?” There was no judgement in his eyes, only curiosity. 

She stopped to laugh, “When you put it like that,” She chuckled again, thinking over his statement. “I think I just like to do whatever I do, thoroughly.” She seemed satisfied by that self-assessment. “I’m not good at a whole lot of things. But the ones I do, I want to do as well as I’m capable of doing.” She added, an odd smile lifting her lips. That was the first time she truly verbalised that about herself.

“So you’re a perfectionist?” He asked, (Y/N) scoffed at the simplification, going back to her crunches.

“Perfection is a myth.” She sat back up, “I don’t strive for unattainable things.” 

Johnny’s arms tightened around her calves, stuttering her movements.

“Interesting.” He mumbled.

She laughed, “What is?” Her head lifted from the floor.

“You are.” He smiled as their eyes met, “And what do you do for a profession?” He moved on from his previous line of thought too quickly.

“I work in grassroots organisation. Policy.” She was going back down but paused when he made a face.

“So you’re a lobbyist?” He squinted with humour. 

She shoved his shoulder with a laugh, “You’re an investment banker!” He grinned at that, “What right do you have to judge me?” They laughed together. He let her legs go and she crossed them to mirror his position.

“Nothing, I guess there’s just implicit bias when that word is involved.” Johnny shrugged, laughing again as he ran his fingers through his hair, the dark strands falling on his forehead. She hummed skeptically at his words.

“My boss works for a Women’s organisation. I lobby for equal rights.” He nodded at her skeptically and she rolled her eyes, “Someone has to do it you know? Otherwise it’s just the oil and gun lobby running around.” He considered her words.

“So you’re an equalizing force?” He asked and she snorted.

“I wouldn’t give myself that much credit, but on the organisational level yeah, I guess.” She affirmed.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate, “I’m passionate about it. And it matters to me.” She searched his eyes for some giveaway, he gave her a smile.

“I can understand why you work hard then.”

“What about you? What makes you get out of bed?”

“I’m passionate about making money.” He grinned, laughing when she laughed out at his confession. “Not as noble as you though, I suppose. He shrugged.

“Hey!” She shoved his shoulder again, “Nothing wrong with liking money. Money can’t buy you happiness but it sure makes misery comfortable.” She scoffed, making him laugh.

“I guess I just like living a comfortable life. I like nice things: good wine, a nice view from my bedroom window,” He paused to lick his lips. “Beautiful women.” His eyes bored into hers with the last words and she hoped her blush wasn’t too dreadfully obvious.

“Nothing wrong with that.” Her voice was more afflicted than she would like. 

Johnny let out a strained laugh, “I didn’t think I would be as relieved as I feel to hear someone say that.” He pushed back his hair again, his eyes fluttering away from hers.

“Everybody wants to be comfortable.” Her brows creased, not understanding his frustration. “And if you work as hard as I assume you do. You have the right to do whatever you want.” She added, trying to get across that she understood.

“You don’t think it’s shallow?” There was an odd vulnerability in his eyes that passed too soon.

“No.” Her brows creased, “I think it’s admirable.” 

Johnny scoffed like he didn’t believe her.

“I’m serious.” She laughed, hitting his shoulder again. This time his eyes followed the movement. “You know exactly what you want out of life. How many of us can say that?” He looked up at her when she said that, the look in his eyes he had at the restaurant in the morning, the one she couldn’t yet decipher.

“I never thought about it like that. Though it’s not entirely true.” He added. When she parted her lips to ask him to elaborate, he sat back, “We’ll be late for the dinner, (Y/N).” He pointed at the clock on the wall. She nodded at him, deciding not to push.

Johnny stood up, giving her a hand. She snorted but took it, unprepared for the way he pulled her up, steadying her balance with a hand on her waist. There was a respectable distance between them, one that she silently felt disappointed about. He seemed to enjoy lowering his gaze to meet hers though, his eyes glinting. She lifted her arm to push him away playfully, but he grabbed it when it met his shoulder.

“You aren’t that strong, you know? You keep doing that like you know I’ll give in and move to humour you.” His voice dropped to a sinful octave.

“I didn’t realise you were humouring me. Should I use more strength?” Her words were brazen despite her weak tone.

“Try.” He dared her. She bit her lip, her bluff caught too quick. 

She had no chance to overpower the man in front of her. Still pride was a compelling motivator and she tried her best. Pushing his chest with a little more force than she hoped. He didn’t budge, moving closer to her to rub it in.

“Do it again.” He commanded. A ragged exhale left her. She added more force, he put his hand over hers, coming even closer and holding her palm on his chest.

“Johnny.” The way the word came out as a whine made her bite down on her tongue. She felt the vibration of the groan that left his throat before she heard it. She wanted to hear it again.

He leaned down closer to her face, lips brushing against her forehead. “The things I want to do to you.” He moved again, his lips brushed her temples. “Slow and agonizing.” His lips moved against her skin. If he wasn’t holding her so securely, her legs would have given out. She took in another breath, silently willing him to just kiss her. She wanted to grab him and do it herself, but she wanted him to give in first.

“Tell me.” She said instead, more to distract herself. His fingers squeezed her palm on his chest, his hand engulfing it to the extent that it wasn't visible. 

His lips brushed against her eyes. “Oh you are terrible.” He groaned again, “Winding me up like there aren’t going to be any consequences.” She heard herself sigh, so aroused that it felt insane to think that he hadn’t done anything but speak. 

When he let her waist go, the whine that left her lips was more lewd than she thought she was capable of making. He looked down at her like she had slapped him. Yet, she was the one who felt absolutely knocked out within an inch of her life.

“You.” His voice came out breathy and strained. He paused, a distressed laugh escaping his lips. He ran his fingers through his hair again, she resisted the urge to do it for him. “We’re late.” His voice was low, reprimanding her. It made her toes curl.

“Okay.” She said, her eyes focused despite the squeak of her voice.

(Y/N) stood under the freezing water of her shower, her skin too hot and her mind too clouded. All she could imagine was his eyes, his fingers wrapped around her hands; his large hands, his long fingers. She took a deep breath, focusing the sensation of the water running down her body instead. Her mind betrayed her again, drifting to imagine what his hands would feel like on her body, around her throat. She clenched her thighs so tight that the muscles protested. She thought about his voice, the gentle but firm authority with which he scolded her. 

She squeezed her eyes tight, suddenly very annoyed that she didn’t have enough time to get off. Though, a part of her guessed that maybe for the first time in years, that wouldn’t feel enough. She felt like a teenager.

“This is what happens when you don’t get laid for too long.” She mumbled.

(Y/N) stood in front of her suitcase for so long that Joohyun had started giving her glances. She stared at the dress tucked into the corner of her suitcase. She was supposed to wear it for the rehearsal dinner, she had planned her outfits according to the events. The black dress she had decided for tonight lay on top of all her other clothes, but her eyes remained fixed on the other one.

Eventually, Joohyun came and stood beside her, peering into the suitcase to find whatever her friend was glaring at.

“Which one do you want to wear?” She asked her. (Y/N) pointed at the dress in question, letting out a huff.

“Just wear it then!” She knocked her shoulder against hers, “They’re all nice dresses. You can wear the one you wanted to wear tonight on the day you were planning to wear the other one. That way your stupid schedule isn’t too shaken up.” Joohyun sighed.

(Y/N) turned to her with a serious gaze, “You know me too well. It’s a little concerning.” She stated. Joohyun just hummed, tired of this conversation already.

“Can you please get ready? You already came back late!” She grumbled, pulling out the dress and putting it in her arms before pushing her towards the bathroom.

There was a knock on the room’s door, making both Joohyun and (Y/N) turn. Joohyun got up and walked over to it.

“Who is it?” She asked.

“Is (Y/N) ready?” Jungwoo knocked again, making them both roll their eyes.

Joohyun opened the door, “Yeah. Why?” She asked with a sigh. Jungwoo peeked from behind her to look at her before turning back to Joohyun as they both came back towards the room.

“Would you call her dress red or more of a maroon?” He pointed at (Y/N) with scrutiny. Joohyun turned to assess it herself.

“I think it’s more of a purple?” She said, unsure. 

Jungwoo huffed at her, “Bae Joohyun, where are you glasses? That is not purple!” He sounded exasperated.

“I’m literally standing right here.” (Y/N) put her hands on her hips.

Jungwoo hummed, “Well?” He questioned her impatiently, “Which is it then?”

“Why?” She shot back.

“I’m learning colour theory.” He didn’t flinch.

“Red.” She sighed, not having the patience for Jungwoo’s eccentricities at the moment. He hummed again, lifting up his phone to type something as he left.

Both of them watched him walk out the room, closing the door behind him, “Why is he so weird?” Joohyun mumbled.

“If you find out, let me know.”

“My god.” Wendy whistled as (Y/N) and Joohyun left the room, “Look at you!” She said, glancing up and down (Y/N)’s body.

She looked down, a little embarrassed, “What?” She chuckled.

“You look like a fever dream. I’m almost feeling protective thinking about how many people are going to be eyeing you up tonight.” Wendy laughed.

(Y/N) smiled at her gratefully, “We all look great. Don’t single me out like this.” Her face felt a little hot.

“Yeah, Wendy.” Joohyun giggled, “You’re making (Y/N) shy.” She winked at her.

“You have no right to be shy in that!” Wendy gestured up and down her frame, “Act like the absolute vixen you look.” She nodded in appreciation.

“Can we stop this?” She groaned, “Where are the rest?” She changed the topic.

“Downstairs already. I can never decide what to wear so I was delayed.” She shrugged, threading her arm through both Joohyun and (Y/N)’s, “It paid off though, I’m about to walk into the room with two hot women and be the envy of the ball.” She sighed dramatically.

“Are you drunk already?” Joohyun asked, making (Y/N) snort.

(Y/N) was walking around in search of Jungwoo when she bumped in Mark quite literally.

“Oh.” He jumped back before looking back up at her, “Oh hey it is red.” Mark smiled looking at her dress. Straightened up a second too late, “I mean, nice dress (Y/N).” He laughed nervously.

“Thanks Mark.” She furrowed her brows but he was already waddling away.

The next unexplainable encounter she had was when Haechan walked up to her, “You look very nice, (Y/N).” He smiled at her brightly, “Sorry, I haven’t really had the chance to introduce myself to you properly so I wanted to do that.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I’m guilty of that.” She laughed, “I’m terrible with meeting new people.” She shrugged guiltily.

“You know.” He bought his glass up to his face, tapping his chin with his index finger, “I would have never guessed that.” He chuckled to himself.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Ignore him.” A voice breathed close to her ear, catching her off-guard and making her jump. Johnny came and stood beside her, "I really did start to miss that." He smirked, implying her surprise.

"And why exactly do I deserve to be ignored?" Haechan crossed his arms in front of his chest. Johnny's reply was a noncommittal shrug.

“Do you want something to drink?” Johnny looked to her, his wandering eyes making blood pool into her cheeks. She looked away from his eyes, noticing his tie— red like her dress.

Haechan scoffed, “What are you doing to your voice, dude?” His voice an inch short of an outright laugh. “You sound like you swallowed something wrong.” This time he laughed. (Y/N) curled her lips in to stop her smile.

“What are you talking about?” Johnny coughed, giving him a pointed look.

“Please.” Haechan snorted, turning to (Y/N), “I’ve sat beside him while we watched Lion King and he cried till his nose was double, and his eyes half its size. Don’t fall for this nonsense.” He snorted again.

Johnny gave Haechan a tight smile, standing beside him and putting an arm around his shoulder, “Isn’t he adorable?” He told her. Haechan gasped, hitting Johnny’s arm but she could see it flex, tightening around the younger boy’s neck.

“Okay, okay.” Haechan’s voice came out strained, “You’ve made your point.” He tapped on his arm twice and Johnny let go. “Nice tie.” He pointed at it, walking away before Johnny could grab him again.

There was a moment’s silence. (Y/N) watched Johnny’s face turn red as his eyes looked to each side. It gave her more pleasure than she would have initially estimated to watch Johnny get flustered. She made a mental note to thank Haechan for it at some point. He opened his mouth before closing it, before opening it again.

“Everybody cries during Lion King.” She put him out of his misery. The laugh that left his lips was an embarrassed one. With intimate glee she realised that she finally had the smallest upper hand. “Nice tie.” She pointed at it, letting her smile bloom this time.

Johnny hummed, “It matches your dress.” He said like he just noticed.

“It does.” Her lips twitched, “Almost like it was planned.” She speculated. 

Johnny’s eyes widened the slightest bit before he sighed, “I should have known. Subtlety isn’t Mark’s language.” He ran his fingers through the tie.

“If it helps,” She leaned towards him, “It’s not one of Jungwoo’s linguistic abilities either.” Johnny laughed out loud at that, the sound rich and deep. His laugh was an unique one, each sound disjointed in a way that would sound a little sarcastic if it didn’t accompany the way his eyes upturned and his cheeks stretched up. It made her smile.

“How about that drink then?” She questioned and he nodded, his usual smirk back on his lips.

Sooyoung stood beside a table of snacks, with her eyes on (Y/N) and Johnny. She skewered a piece of potato on her plate without looking at it, not noticing Doyoung and Haechan walking towards her.

“Your wife is intimidating.” Haechan pointed out, earning a glare from Doyoung.

“What are you looking at?” Doyoung asked, following her gaze to find it’s source. (Y/N) looked like he laughed at something Johnny said as they both sat down on two chairs tucked away in a corner.

“Johnny’s tie matches (Y/N)’s dress.” She put the potato into her mouth, pulling it from the skewer with her teeth slowly. Haechan visibly shivered.

“It was Johnny’s brilliant idea, he even put Mark up to finding out what she was wearing. I don’t know how Mark Lee, of all people, managed to find out. But it worked.” Haechan shrugged.

“Isn’t that a little too much?” Doyoung winced.

Haechan scoffed, “You know he’s a romantic at heart, always making gestures. Plus,” Haechan sniggered, “That isn’t even the worst part.” He put his hand beside his mouth like he was ready to spill some gossip.

Sooyoung snapped her neck towards him, making Haechan’s eyes go wide. “Continue.” She all but demanded.

“Umm,” Sooyoung’s gaze made him nervous, “He’s trying to act all cool and badass.” Haechan clapped his hands laughing with a shrill delight as he recalled it, “Raising his eyebrows all broody.” He tried to imitate, wiggling his eyebrows and puckering his lips. Doyoung snorted, thinking about his friend— he was nothing if not thorough.

Sooyoung turned to frown at Doyoung, “If your friend hurts (Y/N) I’m going to chop those long limbs off him.” She narrowed her eyes, “You can imagine what I will do to you.” She skewered another potato and brought it to her lips. Both Haechan and Doyoung gulped.

“He isn’t like that, Sooyoung.” Doyoung pouted, “Johnny’s the most sentimental one out of all of us, he just looks all big and bad.” He reassured her. “Just ask Mark.” He grabbed the boy as he passed by, putting him between him and his fiance as a makeshift shield.

“Ask me what?” He squinted, before he noticed Sooyoung’s intimidating gaze. He tried to pry out of Doyoung’s hold but he held him in a death grip.

“Tell Sooyoung about how you and Johnny drink together and cry about your mutual lack of romance.” Doyoung nudged.

Mark’s face turned red, “Hey, that was a secret.” He whined, going still when Sooyoung came closer, pointing her skewer at him.

“What are Johnny’s intentions with (Y/N)?” She narrowed her eyes at him, Mark swallowed.

“He likes her. He, like, really likes her.” Mark lowered his voice. “He made me find out what colour her dress was to match his tie. That’s too cheesy even for Johnny.” Mark cringed. “I mean he promised to get me the Xbox if I did, so I did it anyway.” Mark smiled as he thought about that, “Pretty sweet.” He looked pleased, shaking his head when Sooyoung glared at him.

“He’s not a bad guy, Sooyoung.” Mark said, “He’s the ‘settle down with two kids’ kind of guy.” He smiled before quickly adding, “That doesn’t mean he’s going to do that already. Johnny’s quiet guarded about most things. He’s mostly resigned to his overloaded lifestyle and only talks about these things when he’s really really drunk. He won’t overwhelm (Y/N), he’s very understanding.” Mark blurted out his monologue, pausing when he realised that his need to defend his best friend made him say too much.

“Sooyoung.” Doyoung sighed, coming out from behind Mark and taking her hand in his, “You’re the one who was trying to set them up,” He sighed, “Of course I noticed.” He added when she tried to speak up.

Sooyoung chewed on her lip for a second before sighing. “Look at her, Doyoung.” Sooyoung turned to look at them across the room, still talking to each other in their corner. “(Y/N) isn’t the casual type. She hasn’t even dated anyone since the first year of university! I thought I would encourage her so she’d ease into the idea again. I know she’s a workaholic, so I thought she’d find something in common with Johnny.” Sooyoung sighed, her eyes filled with familial concern, “But look at her!” She pointed, “She looks infatuated.” As if on cue, (Y/N) laughed at something Johnny said. She hit his shoulder playfully, looking away when Johnny’s face turned to her hand, her lips tugging with a smile.

“They look like they’re getting comfortable to the idea of each other.” Doyoung smiled, so did Sooyoung.

“Do we have anything planned for tomorrow?” She turned to Doyoung.

“Not particularly. We have to go pick up our parents at the airport and meet the hotel chef to finalise our menu.” He waited for her to tell him what she was thinking. 

Sooyoung frowned. 

“Why?” Doyoung furrowed his brows.

“I thought we could bring them with us somewhere. So they could get to know each other.” She chewed on her lip, turning her frown to the boys when they all simultaneously laughed.

“I can assure you,” Doyoung pinched Sooyoung’s cheeks, “You don’t have to help Johnny with that.”

Jungwoo and Seulgi caught sight of the circle, intently discussing something. Jungwoo marched straight towards them, Seulgi following behind him.

“What are we talking about?” Jungwoo asked, making Mark squeal.

“Nothing.” Sooyoung said.

“Setting up Johnny and (Y/N) up.” Mark said at the same time.

“Pimping our friends out.” Haechan said too, making everyone give him a disgusted face. “What? It’s the same thing.” He scoffed.

At some point, the both of them had started walking, somehow ending up outside the ballroom. The warm sea breeze balmy against her skin. Johnny was telling her about his top three favourite wines and the merits of each and they compared their preferences.

"Don't get me wrong." She explained, "A Bordeaux is in no way a bad wine."

"But?" Johnny nudged her.

"But." She shrugged, "Don't you think it's too sour? Considering that it's meant to be one of, if not the, best wine."

"That just means you had a set of heavy expectations when you met your first bottle." Johnny pointed out, "And then left disappointed when it didn't meet them all." He shrugged. "It's a fine wine." He chuckled.

"For 900 dollars a bottle, you'd think all expectations would be met and surpassed. Why else would you buy it?" She wiggled her brows at him.

"Because you can." He stated simply, "It's just one of those things that doesn't really make sense." He grinned at her skeptical expression.

"Think about it this way," He continued. "It's an industry, it employs people and as far as the process goes, it's mostly human operated. So if you can afford to buy one without making a dent in your financial situation." He shrugged again like he made his point. "Everything has a market."

"Spoken like a true Wall Street man." She joked, "It's a unique perspective, I'll give you that. Spending is important for economies."

"Exactly!" He grinned, pleased to communicate his point. "I still think we must give to charity. But doing things like paying a respectable wage and utilising resources that employ other people is also an important part of fiscal responsibility."

"You're right." Her eyes lit up as she thought about that.

"My favourite words to hear." He grinned, earning a nudge to his shoulder instinctually before she could stop herself. He let himself be shoved, giving her a meaningful smile.

"I don't understand you." (Y/N) blamed the three glasses of alcohol currently churning in her belly for making her blurt that question out. Johnny gave her a quizzical smile. "On one hand you're a tease." She bit her lip, not sure she formed that sentence the way she had intended when she went over it in her head. Yet, she continued, "On the other you try to match outfits." She bit back a smile at the thought.

"Was it a bit too much?" Johnny winced, halting his steps to turn to her. 

"No." She added too quickly, "It's very sweet. I'm not saying I mind any of this." She paused, knowing that she had a point to this. "I'm just trying to figure you out." She remembered.

"I like making gestures." Johnny shrugged. He ran his fingers through his tie with a smile, "This was a gesture."

"Of what?" Again she blamed the alcohol for the sudden courage.

He looked up at her eyes, his smile replaced by an intense stare. "Do you prefer to be alone because it's too tedious with work?" She felt taken aback by the sudden question.

She realised that they were in one of the manicured gardens scattered across the property, surrounded by dense tropical shrubs and the gentle fragrance of orchids in bloom. She could hear the waves crashing against the beach nearby, her hair brushing against her clavicle in the breeze.

"I guess." She said, unsure of where the conversation was going. "I mean, I don't expect someone to wait for me to text them back because I opened it and then got a call from my boss which made me forget. I also don't expect someone to be okay with me cancelling dates because something came up. I just don't think it's fair." She paused, trying to find the right words. "Plus, you can't really build a meaningful relationship like that, can you?" She gave him a weak smile, certain now that this conversation was an end before anything ever had the chance to bloom.

"So what do you do?" He turned to face her, his eyes burning into her. The gas lamp behind them illuminated his features, she traced them with her eyes. When she felt satisfied that she would remember it she looked down at her palm.

"You choose between the two." She smiled sadly at her hands, "At this point in my life, I would choose my career over a relationship. Will I change my mind later? Maybe." She took a deep breath, a slow vulnerability seeping into her, "Will it be too late when I do? Who knows." She took another steady breath, looking up at him. "But I've worked too hard to get where I am, either way I won't regret it." She wondered if he had his answer.

"Would you choose to be with someone who also doesn't have the time, but wants to try and see if he can have both?" One corner of his lips lifted. 

She stared at him for a second, not expecting that at all. She was ready for him to accept whatever could have been between them as a dead-end and she would agree with him and go their own ways. She prepared herself for that inevitability, coaxing her disappointment with rationale. Instead he said something that she didn't dare to consider. When the shock of it subsided she thought about his words.

"You don't have to answer that now. In fact I would want you to take you time. I just hope we can be on the same page." He toyed with his fingers, biting his upper lip as he pondered over something.

"What does the page look like?" Her voice was small, afraid she might be letting hope pick up a message he wasn't giving.

He looked up at her, "I really like you, (Y/N)." The way he said it, like it was almost inevitable, made her heart flutter, "When we met on the yacht, even before that at breakfast.” He laughed to himself, “Before Jungwoo even had the chance to mention our previous encounter," He bit back a smile, "I thought you were attractive." He paused to sigh, combing his hand through his hair.

She wondered why he bothered styling it so well if he would just do that. She wondered how her fingers would feel in his hair, combing through it like that.

"And as I get to know you more." He paused, wincing like he was bracing himself. "I think you're a real catch. I think we understand each other." She saw the blood rush to his cheeks as he fluttered his gaze away. "I don't want to smother you with all this, though. All this is just a way to say that we have this week to learn about each other. Time is a luxury I hardly have." He paused again, looking back at her with a soft conviction in his eyes, "But I would give you whatever I can afford if it meant we could explore this beyond a 'what if'." His gaze was an affectionate one.

Her heart pounding so loud in her chest that her voice came out winded, "Okay." She said, "I want that too. Everything you just said." The sound of her blood rushing echoed in her ears.

Johnny gave her what she categorised as the most dazzling smile yet, one full of affection and warmth.

Day 4

“Guys.” Jungwoo spoke as all of them walked towards the restaurant for breakfast, “There’s something up with (Y/N).” He dipped his head to look at her face better. “She’s smiling to herself.” He gasped.

He earned the displeased frown she gave him. Wendy put her arm around her shoulder, shielding her from him.

“Leave (Y/N) alone. She hasn’t had her cup of coffee yet, she’ll smack you.” Wendy warned, making Seulgi snort.

“Ugh that reminds me.” Jungwoo groaned, “I have a hangover. (Y/N) I want a cup of whatever nightmare coffee you drink. I have a conference call to attend.” He made a face. She gave him a sympathetic nod. “Why do you look so tired though?” He questioned, “I would have assumed that you’d at least get sleep on holiday.” Jungwoo sighed.

“(Y/N) came back at 1 am last night.” Joohyun added with a secretive smile. (Y/N) turned to her with wide eyes, shushing her.

“Excuse me?” Yeri squealed, “Where were you?” She tried to be firm.

“I was just walking around the compound.” She murmured, trying to walk faster.

“Alone?” Seulgi grabbed her arm.

(Y/N) paused, not exactly ready to talk about this, but not comfortable lying either. “No.” She said slowly.

“We’re here.” Jungwoo pointed at the glass doors of the restaurant. “Come on (Y/N), you promised me a cup of hell coffee.” He nudged her forward. She couldn’t be sure, but she was thankful for his interruption anyway.

“Two espresso shots?” Jungwoo stared at the machine incredulously as she tapped it in.

“I thought you wanted a cup from hell?” She reminded him, “That’s half of what i’m getting for myself. She laughed at the look he gave her.

“You’re going to die young, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He shook his head, picking up his finished cup.

“Burn bright and fizzle quick, that’s always fun.” She replied wryly as he placed a cup for herself, earning a snort.

“So.” Jungwoo said as they waited, his face changing.

(Y/N) sighed, waiting for this for a while. “Later. Just give me some time to process things.” She promised and to her relief, he nodded.

“Not to press this topic.” Jungwoo said with a grin, “But Johnny is looking at you.” He glanced behind her.

“Oh.” She said, trying not to look too shy when she heard those words.

“And he’s coming here.” He added. “Thanks for the nightmare coffee.” He gave her a salute.

“Sounds delicious.” Johnny spoke behind her. He had a habit of doing that, she noted. Jungwoo scrunched his nose, shaking his head furiously.

“This is a necessity, I have work to do.” He added as he walked away.

“Hi.” Johnny said after he left.

“Hi yourself.” She lifted her cup from the machine, suddenly feeling too shy to meet his eyes.

“A little birdie tells me that you are quite the connoisseur of coffee.” He leaned against the table after placing his cup under the machine’s sprout. Her eyes wandered down his legs, seemingly endless.

She looked up at him, ignoring the blush that rose up her neck when their eyes met. Johnny stood with his elbows propped on the table, clad in black sweatpants and a red t-shirt that clung to his shoulders in a way that forced her to remind herself that it was early in the morning. He looked so good that (Y/N) wanted to groan— no one should look that good at 8 am. 

“Which bird is it?” She asked. Johnny pointed his chin across the room. When she followed it, she found Yeri waving at them. Johnny waved back with a smile.

“I wouldn’t call myself a connoisseur.” She turned back to him.

“To be fair, no self respecting person would.” His words made her laugh.

“I do like the merits of variation in coffee depending on where it’s from though.” She admitted. Johnny’s coffee sat ready and he didn’t touch it.

“I hoped you’d say that.”

“Why?” She inquired.

Johnny slid his phone out of his pocket, tapping it open and standing up from his perch on the table. “You know the island is famous for its coffee beans right?” He came up beside her, showing her his screen. “There’s this roastery I wanted to visit but felt weird about travelling an hour just to go alone.” He looked at her hopefully.

“Yes.” She said, his eyes lighting up. 

“Great.” He smiled to himself, “We’ll leave after breakfast?” He asked and she nodded. “Good.” He sounded pleased.

Johnny was on his phone when she walked into the lobby. Shamelessly, she took the moment to appreciate his frame, slowing her steps. He wore a simple black button up with faded jeans, looking every bit worth her appreciation. At some point she would give herself the freedom to wonder just how this breathtaking specimen of a man was interested in her. At the moment, a smile grew on her lips when he looked up from his phone to catch her eyes. He leaned back on the sofa he was sitting on, putting his arm on it’s headrest and watching her walk up to him with an appreciative smile of his own.

“Like what you see?” She decided to tease him this time. 

His eyes sparked with delight at her words, “Absolutely.” His grin grew into a toothy smile. She blushed at his words.

“I took the liberty of asking for a car sans chauffeur. Don’t worry, I am allowed to drive here.” He added thoughtfully.

“I wasn’t.” Her laugh was breathy, “You travel a lot?” She asked.

He nodded, “Mostly for work, so it helps to have an international license.” He explained and she nodded back at him.

“Let’s go then shall we?”

(Y/N) wanted to appreciate the scenery, she really did. The highway they were on was sparse, only the occasional car whizzing by beside theirs. On either side of the road, the view went from dense trees, the sea, terraced paddy fields and even a volcano. She took all of it in with the sort of awe that only nature could give you. 

Johnny played the kind of music that sounded like it was made for a moment like this, it made her chest stir. But even though that, the larger part of her attention remained centered on the man beside her.

At some point, Yeri had firmly planted in her head that there was something inexplicably attractive about a man driving a car. Emphasizing that it was more so when he did that driving with one hand. Sitting here, she made a mental note to confess to Yeri one day that she finally got her point. She tried not to stare at him too long, trying to distract herself with the astonishing view outside the car rather than the stunning one inside it. She passed the ride in the same agonizing way, eventually falling into her own thoughts.

They walked into what the webpage had categorised as a cafe. Yet standing there, it looked like a fine dining restaurant. The interior was a rich cream beige, the gentle hum of music in the background. Tourists mostly occupied the seats, standing out because of their casual beach attire and sun burns. An entire wall made of glass overlooked a large outdoor seating area.

“Do you want to sit outside?” Johnny asked her. She nodded eagerly, catching a look of the sky that was slowly getting cloudy, making the outside look like something out of a dream.

Johnny placed his sunglasses on the table as the waiter approached their table, picking up the menu. “I personally prefer a modest black coffee.” He said like he already knew what we wanted.

“Me too.” Johnny’s lips bloomed into a smile at the answer.

The waiter scribbled into his notepad, “How would you like your coffee to be made?” He asked.

“French Press.” They answered in tandem, laughing at the coincidence.

“Anything to eat?” Johnny asked her.

“Whatever you like.” She shrugged, “We’ll see to what extent our tastes match.” She bit her cheek.

“Is this a test?” He raised a brow.

She clicked her tongue, “It’s an opportunity.” She corrected.

He licked his lips, “You’re slick with your words. I’ll keep that in mind.” Something dangerous sparked in his eyes, gone too soon as he turned back to the waiter, “We’ll get a cinnamon roll each for now, please.” He handed the menu with a polite smile.

“Do I pass?” He tilted his head, toying with his own fingers as he looked at her expectantly and earning her attention.

“I have exactly two sweet pastries I like.” She dragged her eyes away from his fingers before she got ahead of herself, “almond croissants,” She paused to chuckle, “And cinnamon rolls.”

“You don’t like cake?” He questioned.

“I don’t mind it. But I absolutely will not eat one with frosting on it.” She scrunched her nose before considering something, “Unless it’s cream cheese frosting.” She pondered that for a second, thinking about the last time she had it and then nodding to her own statement.

“Specific.” Johnny noted.

“I can be. Once I come to the conclusion that I like or dislike something, It’s usually hard to deter me.” She stated.

“I, myself, am open to all possibilities. But I’m someone who goes after something I want with a sort of reckless abandon.” His eyes sparked with meaning, boring into her.

“I see.” She shied away from his gaze.

“And you?” He kept the conversation rolling rather expertly.

“I’m usually over-cautious about everything I do.” She admitted sheepishly.

An airy laugh came from Johnny, “Seems like we have just enough differences to make this interesting.” His eyes crinkled in the corner. She liked the perspective.

The waiter came back with their order as she explained to Johnny how tedious policy could be. The waiter placed their pastries on the table, followed by two individual sized french presses and two digital timers. She was suddenly really grateful to have found this place.

“Enjoy your afternoon.” He said after and walked away.

(Y/N) picked up one of the timers, fiddling with it and then putting it down after an adjustment. Johnny gave her a quizzical look.

“What?” She laughed, “I don’t brew it for three minutes.” She shrugged.

“I brew it for four.” Johnny said like he absolutely understood where she was going with this, making her laugh again.

She pressed her knuckles on her cheeks, an unsuccessful attempt to curb the smile on her face. 

He was cute, she concluded. 

“I follow this very particular method, which as a whole is nine minutes.”

Johnny looked petrified at the notion, “Isn’t that too much? Your coffee must taste like coal.” He put his hand on his cheek, resting his elbow on the table and musing out loud.

“Don’t knock it till you try it. I swear by this brewing method.” She defended.

Johnny raised both his hands in surrender with a breathy chuckle, “I’m just teasing.”

“That is your favourite thing to do, I am starting to realise.” She scoffed.

“You have no idea, (Y/N).” He gave her a secretive smile that had no right to affect her the way it did. She just stared at him for a moment, wondering how they arrived here while talking about her very precise routines. 

She was thoroughly intrigued by the man who sat in front of her, she realised with a start. It was the most unlikely moment to come to that conclusion, but it sat in front of her as unapologetically as he did. It was mesmerizing in a way that would terrify her if she didn’t know his intentions already. 

If he thought she was a catch, she thought he was captivating. They both watched each other silently, and just for that moment she would give anything to know what he was thinking. 

The sound of their collective timers going off jolted them out of the moment.

“I thought you said nine.” Johnny teased and she gave him a pointed look. He picked up his press to push the grounds down; she opened hers and stirred it before closing it again, readjusting her timer. When she looked up, he was assessing the task.

“We’ll try each other’s and see which works better.” She poked her tongue out at him and he laughed.

“I guess you like a light roast if you keep it for that long.” Johnny deducted.

“Medium roast.” She corrected him, “Light is flimsy, dark makes you taste that roast part more than the coffee part.”

“Dark roast is perfectly fine if you aren’t letting it seep for ten whole minutes.” He scoffed.

“Nine.” She tried to hold back her smile to sound more offended than she felt.

“Okay.” He sounded unconvinced, making her bite her lip to stop herself from verbalising her indignation further.

When her timer went off again, she eagerly poured herself the coffee.

“What is the point of a french press if you aren’t pressing it down?” He pointed, noting the way she just used the filter more as a strainer, than a press. She ignored him, filling up her cup till the top and pushing it towards him.

“Try it.” She ordered. There was that spark in his eyes again, she ignored it in the face of her pride. “Now.” She pushed.

He picked it up, bringing the cup to his lips. He swirled it around his mouth gently, swallowing it slowly and having a look of deep concentration on his face the entire time. 

He was so hot that it punched out the air from her lungs.

“It’s good.” He admitted, pushing his cup towards her, “Now you.” The real authority in his voice was milder than her feigned one.

“It’s fine.” She said after her sip. 

A humorous huff left Johnny’s lips but he didn’t say anything.

They left the cafe with a bag of coffee beans each, freshly roasted and to their personal preferences. 

“Thank you for bringing me here.” She told him as they reached the car, “I really enjoyed myself and I really liked the coffee. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my day .” Her smile was a satisfied one, Johnny mirrored it.

“Me neither.” He said, “Your company was greatly appreciated.” He looked away, fumbling with the keys as they reached their vehicle. “I’ll remember today very fondly.”

“So will I.” She added without hesitation.

The ride back was relaxed. Johnny told her about the time he took Doyoung to the Vessel in New York and made him climb the stairs, something Doyoung did not enjoy too much. She learned that Johnny’s favourite restaurant was on fifth avenue and that she had never heard of it, something he was shocked to learn. He was also shocked to learn that she hadn’t been to the Vessel yet.

��Living in New York isn’t as exciting as being a tourist in New York, I’ve realised.” She told him. 

Johnny thought over her words for a second before turning to her, “You know, I think you have a point.” His voice laced with his epiphany. “We only went because Doyoung wanted to visit the Vessel.” She hummed.

“If you live somewhere, there’s never a hurry. When I was younger, I wanted to see all the places in the city. So far I’ve been to the Rockefeller centre. And that was only because I had work at the United Nations building.” She sighed to herself. “The park doesn’t count because it’s near everybody’s office.” She huffed a laugh and he agreed.

There was a silence that settled between them, comfortable and unforced. She enjoyed the view, distantly considering visiting that farmer’s market her assistant always got her jam from. When Johnny’s warm palm touched her thigh, a jolt went right down her spine. She turned to him, exercising a mammoth of self control to not look at his hand.

“We’ve stopped.” She seemed to realise, Johnny hummed in response.

“I just thought we could saviour the view.” He looked out through the windshield, she followed his gaze, a small gasp leaving her lips. She pulled closer to the edge of her seat to get a better view. 

There was a cavern in front of them, covered so thoroughly with plants that it was hard to assess how deep it was. On the other side of the gorge, a stream flowed down from the edge of the precipice, a small waterfall. She could hear the gurgle of it as it fell, the mist from it’s fall blurring whatever was below. Far behind the gorge was the volcano, so high that the tip was covered in clouds. Her eyes drank in the surroundings, willing her mind to burn it into memory. She turned to him, rendered speechless and eyes wide in wonder.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He chuckled, she gave him a nod.

“It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.” She whispered, her eyes going back to the view. She looked around, surprised at the empty side of the highway. A view like this, she assumed, would have a flock of tourists.

 They sat for a moment in silence, the splendour in front of them making words feel futile. Johnny pushed his seat back, reclining it so he could relax. She curled up in the seat, tucking her legs underneath her. 

Her movement made him turn to look at her. She turned to him, “What?” She asked. He looked conflicted as he thought about something before shaking his head at her.

“Oh come on.” She laughed, “Tell me!” She insisted. She turned in the seat to face him, bringing her knees up to her chest and leaning her head to the side to rest on the seat. There was a small flash of something in his eyes, suddenly the air between them felt thicker. His eyes traced her frame, his lips parting as his eyes came back to hers. Suddenly she felt very aware of how the tropical humidity settled on her skin, making her feel a little stuffy despite the air conditioning. 

He reached out, taking a hand in his. He looked at her palm carefully, ran his index finger over her digits before he wrapped her hand completely in his, biting down on his lip. She didn’t think such an otherwise rudimentary act would light her entire body on fire.

His eyes fluttered up to hers again, blown out till they looked black. “You’re so small.” The words weren’t anything beyond a simple observation. But the way he said it, struggled and breathless made her sit up in place. “You would fit so perfectly.” He stopped, using his other hand to comb through his hair, laughing whatever trance he was in off. “We should be heading back.” He said, looking back outside through the windshield. 

There was a disappointment that settled into her chest, “Fit where?” She asked, tucking her legs under her and sitting up on them, coming closer to him.

“(Y/N).” His voice was that tone that was meant to be cautious but sounded like an admonishment. She wanted to tell him that doing that wasn’t helping anything.

She took a deep breath, “Johnny.” What she wanted to sound firm came out breathless and needy.

“God, fuck.” He groaned, turning to pick her up like she was a paper doll. She sat in his lap, stunned by his effortless strength. He raised a brow at her and it finally sunk in— she fit in his lap.

“You like it.” She looked up, searching his eyes for an answer, “Being the big strong one.” She placed her palm flat at the centre of his chest, thrilled by the mix of it’s hard muscles and his rapid heartbeat. His fingers squeezed into her waist, giving her his answer in the best way. “You like that you could crush me till I cease to exist.” She rubbed her thighs together as she said that. He noticed, his breathing as shallow as hers. Something about that gave her the last push she needed, she swung a leg over till both her knees dug into the seat. This close, she could smell his cologne, a mix of clean citrus and light spice that made her lick her lips.

Her frame was nothing compared to his. Her eyes went down to his chest, tracing her eyes over it’s expanse. She bit down on her lip, daring to inch closer to it.

“(Y/N)” His voice was a weak protest.

“Johnny?” She looked back up at him, pleased to finally hear the admonishment in her voice. She ran her palm down his chest, feeling the muscles clench under her chest. Feeling every defined crevice, her eyes fixed on the buttons that looked strained.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, baby.” The way the pet name left his lips, she was sure she would cease to exist without him even touching her. His hands stayed beside him, balled into fists but stationary. “I’m trying to be a decent man.” His eyes held no decency in them as they drank her in with intense hunger.

“Okay.” She brought her eyes back on his. She ran her fingers up his arm, thick and strong, dragging her nails against the warm skin. “You be decent.” Her fingers came to his neck, running a finger along the vein that strained against the thin skin, “I want to touch you.” Her eyes watched the vein pulse, a thought occurring to her,  “If you don’t mind.” She dropped her hand, realising that she was probably pushing him.

He threw his head back with a defeated groan, “Why would I mind?” His laugh was deep and throaty, resonating in her chest. When he looked back at her, his eyes were darker than before. “I wanted to take you out on a date. I wanted to sweep you off your feet.” He sighed, his fingers coming up to cup his face, sweeping the pad of his thumb lightly against her lip once. “I wanted to court you.” His eyes peeled away from her mouth to meet her eyes. The combination of his words and the affection in his eyes made a fresh wave of heat pool between her legs.

“This is a date.” She felt herself blush. She would have been embarrassed of how needy she was being if it was anybody else. “You can court me while you touch me. Please.” She whined, loud and unabashed. She felt like a mess, a puddle of pure nerves that was being held up by a mix of sheer will and his secure arms.

Johnny put his other hand on her back, the heat radiating off it penetrating through the thin cotton of her dress. His thumb traced the edge of the elastic of her bra, making her insane.

“One day,” He spoke inches away from her lips, “In the near future.” His eyes held a promise, “I’m going to make you pay for winding up like this. For taking advantage of my weakness for you.” His breath fanned her face, a pleasing smell of coffee and cinnamon. “I’m going to enjoy punishing you so much baby.” She whined at the name, fisting his shirt. When his lips met hers, she completely melted into his chest. His lips were as soft as they had looked, patiently molding over hers.

He was right, she fit perfectly. 

He ran his tongue over her lower lip and she gladly opened her mouth. When his tongue lapped at hers she saw stars behind her eyes. The hand he had on her cheek going down to her waist, wrapping around it completely. She moaned into his mouth when he bit her tongue gently. He pressed the palm on her back firmly, in one swift motion pulling her in and sitting up.

This close, she could feel how hard he was, pulsing against the flesh of her thigh. She moaned again, grinding her hips down on his pelvis like an animal in heat. His thighs tightened under her, flexing in retaliation. His hand slid up from her back to the base of her neck, where it met her back. He wrapped his fingers around it, gently tugging her head back.

“You’re so fucking wet, (Y/N).” He spat the words out, his fingers instinctually tightening around her neck making her roll her hips. “Are you that eager for me to be inside you?” She gasped at his words. “Well?” He added when she didn’t respond, freeing her neck from his hold.

She gave him a hasty nod and his lips curled up deviously. 

“Use your words, (Y/N). You’re so good with them after all.” He ordered, wrapping a strand of her hair around his finger, “You were so verbose moments ago.” He cooed.

“Yes.” She breathed out. His lip twitched in the corner but he remained silent, raising a brow at her like he wanted more. She bit her lip, her chest and face turning red. “Want you inside me.” The words came out as a soft murmur. He hitched her dress up with a single finger, moving agonizingly slow as he dragged it up her thigh. When her dress was drawn all the way to her waist, he ran a finger along the cloth of her underwear, keeping his eyes locked with hers. He pushed the elastic aside, his finger slipping into her folds, the smirk on his face faltering. She shivered at how cold it felt inside her warm folds, he pressed the finger against her clit and she fell forward, hand going to his shoulder to steady herself.

“Do you feel that?” He rubbed circles around her clit, “How wet your cunt is for me?” He looked dangerous in that moment: his voice impossibly low, tongue impossibly filthy. She nodded, afraid he’d pull his finger away if she didn’t respond. 

He dragged his finger down, grazing around her hole with an outrageously light touch. “Is that what you want? Hmm?” His voice was rough.

“Yes, please.” She gasped

“Such an obedient girl.” He praised, slipping his finger in till just the first joint. She wanted to slap his smug face, she equally wanted to kiss it. When she tried to ease her own hips down he stilled her with his grip on her waist. “Patience.” He reprimanded, making her pout, “Aren’t you a good girl, mmh?” He chastised further and she nodded. “Then behave.” He kept his finger so impossibly still. The sound of her blood rushing and their breathing were together echoing in her mind, so loud that she wondered how she even heard his soft voice with the clarity she did.

“I’ll behave.” She repeated, her nails digging into her shoulder in retaliation despite the polite surrender of her voice.

“You will, won’t you?” He pressed his finger the ghost of an inch further. Sweat beaded on her forehead, making her hair stick to her neck and her dress stick everywhere. “You’d let me hold you within an inch of your sanity.” She nodded at his words, her pussy clenching at his words.

He groaned at her compliance, finally pushing his finger all the way in. She dropped her forehead to his shoulder, the feeling of being filled so far in with a single finger too much for her to think about. 

She thought about how small her hand had looked in his large one, clenching around his finger again. He pulled his finger out so slow, the wet sound of it moving against her wet walls making her moan. He dragged the nails of his other hand up the back of her scalp, making her skin erupt in gooseflesh. Every single nerve in her body felt battered by his ministrations.

When his finger was out till the first joint, he slammed it back with force. Her lips parted in a gasp, she attached it to the base of his throat to silence her moan.

He took a ragged breath, "Fuck (Y/N) you're so tight." He growled the words out, “Move your hips, baby.” She obeyed, matching his rhythm with a feverish pace. He left lazy kisses on her forehead, temples, eyes and shoulder; a stark contrast to the brutal way his finger rammed into her. When he added a second her back arched, her lips going up to his ear, biting down on his lobe. His wince vibrated in her belly.

“God.” She groaned in his ear, “That feels so good.” Her hand slid down his chest, the other now wrapped around his shoulder. He stroked her hair, tugging the strands gently. She clenched around his fingers again from the sensation

Johnny chuckled, “Your body talks for you.” He murmured against her cheek, pulling her hair with a bit more force and making her look at him. “You’re enjoying that aren’t you?” She gave him a nod, eyes rolling back into her skull. His lips brushed against her throat, humming against it. “Tell me, (Y/N). What feels good?” His lips brushed against the skin on her chest at the edge of the neckline of her dress, never going lower.

“You.” She choked on the word, “Everything about you.” She gasped as he curled his fingers inside her. Her back arched, her chest pressing into his. 

She felt her orgasm approaching, her fingers tightening against his shoulder blade. “Johnny.” She sounded almost on the verge of tears. He gently caressed her hair, shushing her softly.

“Are you going to cum for me?” He cooed at her. She gave him a rushed nod and he quickened pace, turning her neck to face him. “I want to see you.” He said.

She rested her forehead on his, his hand letting go of her neck to caress her shoulders. He coaxed her closer to her edge with words of encouragement and praise, his eyes studying her tightly closed eyes and parted lips. 

Every nerve from the top of her head to her toes fired together as her orgasm crashed through her. She moaned his name out, her body shivering with the waves that rippled to her, leaving her legs wobbly.

They stayed like that for a moment as she slowly came back to reality, her breathing slowly adjusting. Johnny lifted his head, kissing her temples, eye and the corner of her lips. She pulled his shoulder, kissing his lips. He smiled against her lips, cupping her cheeks to angle her face to deepen the kiss.

He kissed down her jaw slowly, “You.” He hummed under her ear, “Are pulling me apart by the seams.” He left a chaste kiss on the soft skin.

“You say that like you didn’t just finger my soul into a different dimension.” She let out a choked scoff. Johnny threw his head back and laughed breathlessly. She noticed the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the way his hair stuck to it.

He looked back at her, kissing her forehead affectionately. “You’re absolutely magnificent, you know that?” He held her face in his hands, “And so cute.” He squished her cheeks together, making her eyebrows crease. “You’re also so breathtakingly sexy.” He sighed, dragging his fingers through her hair, making her nuzzle into his palm. “It’s hard to keep myself in check around you.” He gave her a smile that made her grin. “I don’t want to scare you off.” He joked.

“Like you wouldn’t pin me in place by the neck if I did?” She teased him, biting her lip when his smile faltered.

“I’m sorry if I came on too strong.” He sat up, keeping her steady on his lap with his arm. “I didn’t mean to manhandle you.” He looked away from her.

She blinked, “I liked it. Manhandle me again.” She teased. He looked up at her, eyes a little wide. She blushed, looking down to toy with his fingers, her blush only growing when she noticed that they were still sticky from being inside her. “I think I liked it a lot.” She said meekly.

A thought occurred to her, making her eyes flutter to his jeans, “Though you—” her voice trailed off, he followed her gaze to where she was staring, his erection still pressing against his jeans. He tugged her dress, kissing her with a fervour, leaving her aroused and breathless again.

“When I fuck you for the first time, It isn’t going to be cramped up in a car.” He mumbled into her mouth making her shiver. “Don’t worry about me.” He reassured.

By the time they arrived back at the resort, the sun had already set.

“See you at dinner.” She smiled at him.

“No gym for you today?” His voice was the viscosity of dripping honey.

“I think it’s safe to say that I have completed my cardio quota for the day.” She bit her cheek. Johnny stilled, opening his mouth and then closing it. His cheeks going red as he let out a laugh. 

He fumbled with the keys and she was hit with the realisation that this was the same man who was knuckles deep in her, sitting in the same place he was when he did. And just like that, they were both blushing and fumbling.

“Dinner. Right.” He said. He paused, running his fingers through his hair, “Sorry.” He breathed out the word, “I just wasn’t expecting you to say that. I’m not like, pretending it didn’t happen.” He gave her an apologetic look. Her eyebrows knit together.

“I didn’t think you were. But now I’m concerned.” She joked.

“I’m not.” He added too quickly, “When I like someone I mean it.” He explained.

“Good. So do I.” She added, the glint returning to his eyes.

She got out of the car before she did something that would make them both late for dinner. When she entered her room, she was taken aback to see everyone in her room. To her surprise, Sooyoung was there as well.

“How was it?” Sooyoung sat up on her knees on the bed. Yeri giggled from under the comforter.

“What?” (Y/N) shuffled her feet.

“Oh stop. Mark told Doyoung and Doyoung told me. You went on a date.” She grinned harder. 

“It wasn’t a date.” She blushed.

Sooyoung threw the pillow she hugged to her chest at her feet, “He drove you halfway across the island for a cup of coffee. What else was it?” (Y/N) didn’t have an answer to that.

“Why are you being so secretive? We’re your friends!” Wendy laughed.

(Y/N) took a deep breath, “Because,” She paused, eyes locking with Sooyoung, “I don’t want you to get too involved with this and worry too much. He’s nice, I like him. But I don’t want you to feel responsible for anything because he’s your future husband’s friend.” She came up to Sooyoung, sitting down on the bed in front of her.

“(Y/N)–” Sooyoung sat up.

“I know you’re always worried about me. Plus,” She paused, forming the next thought with labour, “I didn’t want to talk about something till I knew there was something to even talk about. Don’t be mad, all of you are my friends and you are the first people I’d tell anything.”

Sooyoung came forward and hugged her, “I’m not mad. I just want you to be happy. Whatever or whoever that is, that’s yours to have.” She comfortably reassured her.

“So,” Jungwoo interrupted. “Does this mean there is something now? If you’re telling us, that is?” He looked at the ceiling in case she glared at him. Sooyoung pulled back from the embrace, holding at arm's length, silently asking her to answer Jungwoo’s question.

“Maybe.” She toyed with her fingers, her face going hot, making her look down.

This time Joohyun squealed, “Oh my god. You really like him, don’t you?” She squealed again, this time her other friends joined in.

“Depends how much you can really like someone in four days.” She reminded them.

“Oh stop!” Seulgi sat up and swatted at her, “Just enjoy it without trying to be practical. You can think about the logistics after you’re back home.”

“Home where Johnny also lives.” Wendy grinned making (Y/N) groan.

“I’m going to go take a shower. When I come back, my room better be empty. Don’t you guys have to get ready?”

Jungwoo disappeared for the third time, coming back with another pair of glasses.

“For fuck’s sake, Jungwoo.” She groaned.

“Aw come on. You’re my partner in crime. Don’t hold back just because you have a man now.” He pouted.

“That’s not–” She paused, her cheeks heating up. “God!” She groaned, “Just give me that fucking glass you imbecile.” Jungwoo grinned, handing it to her.

“I even got you a lemon slice.” He gestured to the space between his ring and middle finger, where he gripped the slice while holding the glasses. She snorted, pulling it out carefully.

More guests had started flying in for the wedding, making the dinners feel more like parties now. (Y/N) picked a comfortable corner table and stayed there, occasionally coaxing Jungwoo or Wendy to get her something to eat. She didn't need to coax Jungwoo to get her alcohol though, and soon enough she started to feel it heating her stomach and the tips of her limbs.

“Oh my god, (Y/N).” Jungwoo sat down, whisper-shouting at her as he placed another glass in front of her. “Look!” He turned to look behind her, “Two of Sooyoung’s college sorority friends are trying to flirt with your Johnny!” He gasped like he was personally offended.

“He’s not my Johnny.” She furrowed her eyebrows at him. She turned, following his gaze to spot him through the crowd. Sure enough, two girls stood laughing at something Johnny said. She turned back, lifting the glass Jungwoo got her to her lips.

“Well?” Jungwoo asked with urgency.

“What?” She gave him a confused look.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” He pressed.

“No?” She said incredulously. “He’s talking to someone, Jungwoo. People are allowed to do that. You don’t know if they’re flirting.” She paused, taking another sip of her drink. “And even if they are. That’s his problem to deal with, not mine.” She shrugged, taking another sip and realising that she no longer felt the burn of it going down her throat. It was time to stop drinking.

“Aren’t you worried?” He frowned this time.

“No.”

“Why?”

She took a deep breath, “Because.” She gave him a pointed look, “If he likes me he won’t flirt back and I have nothing to worry about.” She raised a brow at him, “And if he does flirt back then he’s not worth worrying about.” She scoffed, “I appreciate the concern though.”

“Wow. You’re so cool!” He clapped his hand on her shoulder, making her stumble in her seat. She frowned— she was drunk. “If I was you I would have gone right up to them.”

“It comes with age.” She smiled when he scoffed.

“You say that like you’re so much older than me.” 

“Plus.” She paused a moment, “Johnny isn’t like that.”

“Oh?” Jungwoo’s voice rose in pitch, “We already know what he’s like, do we?” He smiled.

“I’m an excellent judge of character.” She shrugged again. A giggle bubbling up her lips at the look Jungwoo gave her.

“Come on.” He said, coaxing her to get up. “One more drink and I’ll stop bothering you.” He tugged her arm. “Plus, you need to leave this corner so Johnny can see how good you look in that dress. Just to be sure.” He winked, making her laugh again.

The last drink was a mistake. 

The music had shifted to a slow bass and the lights had dimmed, making her feel more intoxicated than she did earlier. She stood with her arms threaded in Joohyun’s, firmly in place. 

Joohyun had only stopped scolding her for drinking too much, a scowl still on her face. Jungwoo had ran away halfway through the lecture they were both meant to share. Joohyun passed her another bottle of water she slipped out of her bag, something (Y/N) was too grateful for.

“What would I do without you.” (Y/N) cooed.

“Get alcohol poisoning. Now drink.” She glared. (Y/N) nodded and tipped the bottle down her throat, finishing the whole thing in one go, too occupied by the feeling of the cool liquid sliding down her throat to notice that she did.

The song changed to a groovy one, making her sway her hips a little. She thought about how ridiculous she must look, having to hold back a giggle before it erupted. Ten points for self-control, she congratulated herself.

“Uhh,” Joohyun spoke up suddenly, turning to look behind her before looking back quickly. “Are you a horny drunk?” 

(Y/N) took a physical step back at the sudden question, “No!” She sounded scandalised.

“Good.” Joohyun said too quickly, in time for an arm to slide around (Y/N)’s waist.

His cologne announced him before he did, the spicy citrus that made her want to lick his skin.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all night.” He leaned towards her head.

“Getting hammered.” Joohyun deadpanned. “I’m starting to believe it’s a problem.” She gave (Y/N) another glare.

“Jungwoo said I can handle it. Obviously, I had to prove myself.” She whined, making Joohyun put her thumb and index finger on the bridge of her nose.

“Can you look after her? I need to go find Jungwoo and Yeri. Last I saw them, he was getting her drunk.” Joohyun frowned. 

“Maybe he’s the one with the problem.” (Y/N) mumbled mockingly., earning Joohyun’s glare.

“Take her back to our room?” Joohyun added. Johnny gave her a dutiful nod. Joohyun gave her a last glare before walking away, leaving her alone with Johnny.

When she turned to him, he was grinning at her, his arm holding her waist tightly.

“So you’ve been having fun.” Johnny laughed.

“Don’t laugh at me.” She warned, and to his credit he tried: biting down on his lip. She stared at it too long. 

There was a small petty part of her, one that she hardly met save for when she was lacking inhibitions as bad as she did right now. She dragged her eyes back to his eyes, “I heard you found some admirers.” She teased. Johnny gave her such a delicious smile that she felt her stomach do an olympic flip. 

So, apparently, she was a horny drunk after all.

“Are you feeling jealous?” He teased right back.

“No. I’m not the jealous type.” She paused, the liquid courage aside, she also felt the liquid ability to spill the truth. “I am the possessive type, though.” She warned.

In answer, he pulled her closer. “Really?” He sounded delighted. She gave him an affirmative hum. “It's a good thing then." He paused and licked his lips, "That I’m all yours.” His tongue sweeped over his lips, she wished he’d do that to her lips instead.

Definitely a horny drunk.

“I thought so.” She smiled to herself.

“Oh?” He smiled.

“Are you the jealous type?” She changed the topic.

“No. Anyone I’m with, I trust. You don’t feel that way if you trust someone.” He made a lot of sense, he did. But she was in the mood to be a little shit.

“It helps that you look like that.” She gave him a look over, he laughed.

“Like what?” He raised a brow and she scoffed.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t take advantage of a drunk, helpless girl.”

He laughed at that, but seemingly conceded.

“Do you want to sit down?” He asked after a moment, probably realising that she wasn’t steady enough to be upright for so long.

“No, I want you to kiss me.” There was a pause, she bit her tongue. On one hand, she was mortified. 

(Y/N) had a rule to avoid drunken embarrassment: she just asked herself if she would say what she wanted to say if she was sober. If the answer was a no then she kept silent. She reluctantly took away the ten points she had previously given herself.

Yet, on the other hand, Johnny looked like sin on legs.

“You’re drunk.” He scolded. Somehow, when he did it, it was so sexy that she wondered if there was something wrong with her.

“So?” She could hear the stubborn persistence in voice, almost like she wanted to be told off again.

“Didn’t you just ask me not to take advantage of you while you’re drunk and helpless?” He clicked his tongue.

She wriggled in his hold, grabbing his arm when he tried to tighten in around her waist to keep her still. She turned to look at him. From this close she had to crane her neck a lot to get a good look at him. She fit into his arms snugly, coming up to his shoulders.

Johnny let out a shaky exhale.

She bit down impossibly hard on her cheek to stop her smile, “I was stone cold sober in the afternoon.” He took another deep breath. “I’ll be sober tomorrow and still want to kiss you.” She realised her own breath was shallow, her core throbbing.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy, (Y/N). You know that?” He pushed a hand through his hair, a low growl imitating from his throat.

“Prove it.”

He led her out of the banquet hall, holding her hand tightly in his as he guided her god knows where. There was a grin of victory on her face, one she aimed to the back of his head. 

He stopped in the middle of some corridor, pushing her to the wall and locking his lips to hers.

She knew for a fact that alcohol numbs your senses, freeing you from pain and sensation for however long it held its effects. 

But, being kissed by Johnny at the moment, she felt everything to an impossible extent. Her hands fisted his hair, making him groan into her mouth. His hair was soft in her palms, the ends poking into them occasionally and tickling the soft skin. 

She felt the warmth of his palm as it roamed her body, there was nothing slow about them. Whatever restraint he had in the afternoon seemed to have disappeared and she was more than happy about that. She didn’t want his restraint, she wanted his untapped desire.

When he bit down on her tongue, she thought she would cum right there; shamefully, like a teenager with their hormones unstable and directing every action. She mewled against his lips and he ran his hands up her arms, pinning them against the wall and deepening the kiss.

On fire. 

That’s how her body felt in his grasp. She felt mad with desire. Like it fogged her brain and befuddled her body. He kissed down her jaw, her head falling back to catch a much needed breath.

“You left me a little gift today.” He mumbled against her neck, “I thought I’d return the favour.” He poked his tongue, licking a soft circle around the skin before biting down. 

Her moan echoed against the tight walls of the corridor. If someone heard, then she'd worry about it if they came to inquire. He sucked on the skin harshly, no doubt leaving a clear mark. She thought back to when she managed to give him a hickey, her mind too cloaked my lust to focus on anything else.

“Now we both have a matching pair.” He lapped the raw flesh to soothe it. She could only groan in response. She rolled her hips into his, making him shiver. She did it again just because of his response.

He let her hands go to grab her waist, pushing her back into the wall.

“If you do that, I just might fuck you right here.” He warned. She pouted at him, gasping when he bit the flesh inside her lower lip. “Don’t be petulant.” He admonished.

“You seem to like it.” Her voice was, in fact, petulant despite how breathless she felt. The look he gave her made her toes curl.

He dropped his head to her clavicle, licking it slowly before sucking down on the skin. Her fingers went back to his hair, dragging her nails through his scalp. She placed her other palm flat on the wall beside her hip, needing it to keep her grounded. 

He finished her work, looking back up to face her, “That was for the scratches you left on my shoulder.” He reminded her, sliding a hand down from her waist. “This.” His voice dripped into her ear, his hot breath fanning her earlobe. He smacked her ass lightly, playfully. Still her eyes went wide, not expecting that. “Is for being a brat.” He kissed the corner of her lips.

“You’re going to make me lose my mind.” She breathed out, laughing at her own confession.

“Good.” His finger traced lightly against the skin of her thigh, “Then we’ll be on the same boat.” He pushed back, giving her a kiss on her temples. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room. I promised Joohyun I would.” His voice shifted back to it’s friendly ease effortlessly. 

When she woke up the next morning, her head throbbed. But the cold sweat on the back of her neck and the uncomfortable heat between her legs let her know what she dreamed about. She realised that she had been woken up, looking up to see Joohyun standing over her bed. Her arms crossed like she was disappointed in her. (Y/N) thought about last night, rubbing her face with her palm. Joohyun was justified in her disappointment.

“Please tell me you didn’t do anything you would regret under the sun.” Joohyun pushed the covers off her.

“No.” She croaked, pausing and then reforming her statement. “Nothing I wouldn’t do sober.” She smirked to herself at that. Joohyun let out a snort, closing her eyes and turning away, trying to curb her smile.

“Come on.” She poked her shoulder, “I’m not letting you skip breakfast.” (Y/N) whined but obeyed, getting out of bed.

Day 5

Joohyun and her walked to the restaurant together, the others already there according to Joohyun. They had turned a corner when they heard a voice call her name out. They both looked right to find Mark waving, Johnny walking beside him. He had his hands in his pocket, wearing a white t-shirt with simple terracotta shorts.

It occurred to (Y/N) that while she didn't believe in perfection, Johnny Suh was probably the closest anyone could come to it. 

"I didn't see you all day yesterday!" Mark commented as they came closer, her eyes drifting to Johnny at the remark. He looked at her like he was fine with letting her answer that all by herself.

"Yeah. Sorry about that." Was all she could bring herself to say. 

When they finally reached, Johnny came up in front of her with an evil glint in his eyes that didn't match the soft smile on his face. She was only just raising a suspicious eyebrow at him when he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in for a kiss. 

She stood frozen for a moment, her heart hammering in her chest and her face turning hot, both of which she was sure he could feel. Her hands came up to his chest and she hesitated for a second, dangerously tempted to pull him close. He smelled faintly like a different cologne, like bitter oranges and spice— a signature that would now arouse her simply from association. Instead, she pushed him gently. He moved back without any resistance, a pout forming on his lips.

"What are you doing?" Her voice sounded like something between a whimper and sheer horror.

"Kissing you." He said the words like it was something he did all the time and she was the one who was weird for asking. It also made butterflies erupt in her stomach because he gave her a soft smile while he said it.

He started to lean back again when she pushed back, bending her back to get her face away from him. From the corner of her eye she could see Joohyun and Mark, frozen in place and watching them.

"What's gotten into you?" She glared at him. Embarrassed and incredibly turned on by his brazen claim.

"What?" He pouted. "You promised last night, remember? He tightened his arm on her waist, pushing a strand of hair that fell out of her hasty ponytail behind her ear. "You said you'd kiss me when you're sober tomorrow. That's why we–" With a teasing smirk growing on his lips, he started to remind her. She quickly reached up to put her hand on his mouth.

"Okay," She hissed, "Okay." She levelled her voice, "You've made your point. Now stop." She begged, wriggling in his hold but he made no move to budge, his eyes turning up in glee. When she let go of his mouth he whined; the three of them looked at him like he was insane.

"But you promised." He huffed.

"Maybe we should go?" Mark turned to Joohyun who gave him a quick nod.

"No!" She snapped at them, "We're also going. Johnny's just being exasperating." She turned back to give him a glare.

"You seem to like it." He repeated the words she said to him last night, making her cheeks feel impossibly hot. He let go of his hold on her waist after that, tucking his hands back into his pocket. She moved away from him immediately, straightening herself and avoiding eye contact with the two people who were witness to his retribution.

"Breakfast." She reminded them and more importantly herself, "I'm not in the mood to be messed with before I drink my morning cup of coffee." She mumbled, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards their destination forcefully.

"Can I mess you up after it then?" His choice of words were deliberate. She took a sharp inhale, ignoring him completely.

Johnny slipped his fingers through hers at some point during the rest of the short walk. She tried not to think too much about it, but her heart pounded against her chest anyway. He was pulling her towards the coffee machine predictably when a voice called out to her. She turned to see Sooyoung’s mom beckon her over. She turned around to Johnny rather apologetically, not wanting to let go of his hand. 

She felt sick with infatuation. 

He looked up at Sooyoung’s mom, before back at her. “Sit with me today?” He questioned and she gave him a nod, a smile spreading on her lips. He let go with a satisfied nod, letting her hand go, she slowly walked away to Sooyoung’s parents.

“It’s been so long.” Mrs. Park hugged (Y/N). “Sooyoung is always bragging about you to us.” She laughed, pulling back and holding her at arm’s length. “You’ve grown into a beautiful, independent woman, (Y/N).” Something about that made (Y/N)’s lips quiver.

Mrs. Park was a special person to (Y/N). She never doted over Sooyoung for how beautiful she was— and Sooyoung was, by all accounts, stunning. Instead she raised her daughter to be opinionated and strong-willed. When (Y/N) first met Mrs. Park, the woman took it upon herself to impart the same wisdom on her. Whenever (Y/N) was at their house, she was no different from her daughters and through the years, Mr. and Mrs. Park had become like her parents. The compliment coming from Mrs. Park felt like she had finally made it in life. She hugged her again.

“I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to visit. I missed you.” Her voice wavered and Mrs. Park laughed and patted her back.

“Sooyoung calls you our little busy body.” She laughed, patting her head with motherly affection. “Come home and I’ll feed you okay? You look like you need to take better care of yourself.” She looked down at her, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “Look at the bags under your eyes.” She cooed.

(Y/N) scoffed gently, “You and mom would have a field trip if you came together.” Her words made Mrs. Park laugh.

“I haven’t seen her in so long as well, wow!” She paused, “You kids really grew up.” She said wistfully.

“I insisted that she travel a little. With us siblings occupied with work, she’s bound to be lonely by herself. She’s currently in Australia visiting a friend, nearby actually.” She laughed.

“Does she visit you?” Mrs. Park asked.

“Sometimes, yeah. I feel bad about her flying all the way just to spend most of the time in the apartment by herself. She doesn’t even know anybody in New York.” She smiled, trying to mask her sadness at her own words. It was fine, she told herself. She grew up wanting what she had now, the consequences were just a part of that.

“Come visit okay? Take some days off once in a while. I’m a shorter flight away.” She scolded her and she nodded with a laugh. “Go eat now! That man has been waiting for you all this time!” She laughed pushing her. (Y/N) turned away, giving her hand a final squeeze.

Johnny was waiting for her like Mrs. Park said. Leaning against a pillar and watching her carefully.

“Are you okay?” His voice was laced with concern, forehead creased. Something stirred deep inside her chest.

“Yeah.” She felt her lips grow into a smile, “I think I really am.” It was a rare instance where the words felt true.

He gave her a questioning look but didn’t press, “Let’s eat?” She nodded.

They were all walking back towards their rooms together when Haechan spoke up.

“Let’s go to the beach, you guys! The wedding's the day after and we’re yet to take a dip in the sea!” He whined, pulling Mark’s arm.

“Don’t you dare.” Doyoung glared, “If any of you get sick, Sooyoung will pop a vein. The whole thing was too meticulously planned.” Sooyoung looked at Doyoung, looking like she didn’t know whether to be offended or proud.

“Fine. We’ll just go and walk on the beach. Come on!” He pushed, “I had a whole scenario in mind when I heard you were having a beach wedding. So far I’ve had a slice of pineapple and that’s it.” He groaned.

“Fine.” Doyoung huffed. Haechan gave him a thumbs up.

It was too hot this early in the day, suddenly nobody liked the idea of being on the beach anymore. Haechan insisted on standing at the edge of the water, clearly flushing from the heat but pretending he was enjoying himself for the sake of his pride. The rest of them found spots of shade to shield themselves. At some point, Haechan managed to drag Mark and currently chased him around the hot sand.

“Johnny!” Haechan shouted across the beach at some point. Johnny lifted his head from the lounging chair he was lying on to look at the boy, moving his sunglasses up to his head. “Help me drag Mark into the water!” He said with a loud giggle, the corner of Johnny’s lips tugged.

“Why would I do that?” He shouted back.

“Because it’s fun to tease Mark.” Haechan replied. Johnny sat up with a laugh, giving into that. Mark looked over, shaking his head at Johnny.

“Why are you bothering the poor boy.” She told Johnny off.

“Just a little bit.” Johnny winked, making her laugh.

He caught up to Mark easily, yet instead of picking him up, he stopped in front of Haechan with a grin, lifting him up and walking towards the sea. Haechan’s shrieks were a mix of horror and surprised delight as he beat his fists on Johnny’s back, the action not seeming to make a difference. As they just about reached the edge, Johnny swung him once before placing him back on his feet. Haechan gave Johnny a surprised hug like he saved his life making Johnny laugh and ruffle his hair.

He came back with an easy smile on his lips, perching his sunglasses back on his eyes. Lying back down on the chair and putting his arms behind his head, he took a deep sigh. “I could get used to this.” He mostly spoke to himself.

She turned to him, staring at his profile. The sun illuminated his face below the nose, the rest covered by the large umbrella above them. She traced her eyes on his chin, his lips illuminated under the soft rays of the sun.

“Enjoying the view?” His voice came out a sleepy murmur. He shifted, turning to face her, taking the shades off his eyes and putting an arm under his head. 

She gave him a hum, shifting to mirror his posture.

“Do you ever feel lonely?” His voice was soft.

“Of course.” She smiled, “Everyone does.” She sighed herself. His leisure influencing her too.

“What do you do when you do?” He questioned.

“I call my friends, ask them about their day.” He shifted closer on his chair, “We video call each other, complaining about work and life.” She smiled affectionately.

“That sounds nice.” He hummed softly, “There’s a comfort in knowing your struggles are understood. More than your achievements sometimes. Though,” He paused, a breathy chuckle coming from him, “That’s also its own kind of nice.” He admitted, making her chuckle too.

A figure approached, blocking the sun and making them turn. Yuta stood with Ten beside him.

“We have to go, dude. The bachelor party still needs execution.” Yuta flung his arm at Johnny’s back. Johnny turned over, squinting when the sun fell on his eyes. After a moment he sighed, sitting up and giving him a nod.

“How cute. They have matching hickeys.” Yuta jabbed his elbow at Ten’s ribs, making him wince first and look later.

“She has two.” Ten smiled, “Johnny my bro!” Ten sniggered.

“We’re leaving.” Johnny warned them, whatever look he turned to give them making them stop. He turned back to her, a lazy smile on his face. “I’ll see you tonight.” He promised, “Don’t pay attention to them.” He pointed to his friends, “This is how we treat people we’re close to.”

Johnny sucked in his lower lip, grazing his teeth over it before he opened his mouth again, “And.” He put his shades back on his nose, “Don’t drink.” A smile danced at the edge of his lips.

It was Doyoung’s idea to have their respective bachelor parties before dinner. He needed his sleep, he had told Sooyoung. When he reminded her that she would get dark circles, she conceded.

As they were sitting at the table for dinner, (Y/N) could tell that both of them were regretting that decision. They sat side by side, clearly still drunk out of their minds— their cheeks flushed and eyes heavy. Both of them kept their eyes glued to the table, furrowed in concentration. She bit back a laugh. She glanced around the table. Most of the boys and, even her friends, all in various stages in intoxication. A gentle pout formed on her lips. While she did thoroughly enjoy the afternoon watching her friend’s antics, she felt a little left out suddenly. 

As she scanned across the table, her eyes met Johnny’s. To his credit, he looked sober too. She raised her glass of water with a mocking smile, watching his lips part for a laugh. He raised his too, as if to reaffirm that they were together in their sobriety. She looked away from him, pleased with the idea.

Taeyong, Doyoung’s best man, expertly forfeited his speech by claiming that he would rather give time to anybody else since he has one for the wedding day. The way he spoke slowly to avoid tangling his words together told her that was only half of the reason.

Jungwoo swayed so clearly in his seat that Sooyoung’s dad flashed him a concerned glance. When he looked up to give him a thumbs up, it did the opposite of reassure him. Suddenly, she wasn’t feeling too bad about being sober anymore. 

They caught each other’s eyes a few more times during the meal. 

At some point, Mark even convinced Johnny to give a little speech. Johnny spoke about the time Doyoung flew down to New York without hesitation because Johnny admitted to him that his new apartment felt isolating. Doyoung came, helped Johnny pick out furniture that felt comfortable and baked cookies so the apartment would feel more homely. Johnny assured the crowd that in a weekend's time, the place did feel like home because he had memories in them. 

Doyoung looked embarrassed, but looked at Johnny with love in his eyes. Mark added that Doyoung made better cookies than his mom, but his mom wasn’t a good baker anyway. The crowd laughed and Doyoung wiped a tear away quickly.

When Johnny came back, Doyoung got up to give him a hug— burying his face in his chest and making Johnny pat his back affectionately. The whole ordeal left her feeling warm and soft in a way that felt new.

It had been more than an hour, she somehow ended up in a corner listening to Jungwoo’s unsolicited opinion on the possibility of alien life when she saw Johnny walking towards them. Jungwoo clicked his fingers in front of her eyes to get her attention, leaning further on his chair.

“If you think about it. Like really think about it.” Jungwoo whispered, shushing her mid sentence even though she was silent the whole time. “They’re just waiting for us to get technologically advanced enough to fight in a war with them.” He concentrated on the floor.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for them to attack before we get there?” Despite herself, she indulged him. Too infuriated by the flaw in logic to not question it.

Jungwoo pondered over the words for a second before shaking his head, “No I’m definitely the one making sense.” He wiggled his index finger in front of her face, “Syria, (Y/N). Think about what happened in Syria.” He urged as Johnny finally came and stood in front of them, peering down at Jungwoo.

“Save me.” She mouthed at Johnny, then not sure if he wouldn’t just to enjoy her suffering.

“You know, I think what he’s saying has its merits.” Johnny pointed the glass in his hand to Jungwoo. He brightened up at those words.

“See? Johnny knows space Syria is legit.” Jungwoo gloated. Johnny snorted to himself and she felt tired, just humming at the drunk boy.

“Want to take a walk with me on the beach?” Johnny asked her after a moment. At first, she thought she would refuse just to spite him.

“And don’t even get me started on Y2K–” Jungwoo began. She stood up.

“Yes beach.” She said too eagerly, before something occurred to her. She turned back to the very drunk Jungwoo with concern.

“I can ask Taeil to drop him back to his room, if you want. He told me he’s going to leave anyway.” Johnny offered and she gave him a very grateful smile.

After they found Taeil, he helped Jungwoo out and reassured he’d get the drunk fool back to his room. Johnny led her out of the banquet hall. They passed the corridor they were in the day before, both of their eyes lingering on the wall.

When they got on the elevator, she felt her cheeks heat up. There was a moment's pause before Johnny burst out laughing, she was compelled to join in.

"You know why I was in the basement the other day?" He questioned with an indulgent grin. She looked up at him, still a little flustered and not yet willing to speak.

"I was the only one who could drive here. So I got the boys pizza." He snorted, "I was so close to saying no." He ran his fingers through his hair, a smile forming on his lips. "I was on a flight for 20 hours with a 5 hour layover after a whole day's work. I was tempted to just order them room service so I could sleep." He fell into some thought, spacing out slightly.

"Oh." She said when the silence dragged for a moment.

"Taeil and Haechan begged. To think that I was so close to missing the way we met." He snorted.

"We would have still met, I mean our best friends are getting married." She didn't know why her voice sounded so intimate. Johnny laced his fingers through hers, watching as he toyed with the digits.

"Yeah." He looked up, "But that's a better story to have, isn't it?" Glee gleamed in his eyes.

Johnny took a few steps closer, "Plus," His eyes traced her face. "How else would I have known how impossibly cute you are when you're flustered?" He clicked his tongue. "I'll have to get Taeil and Haechan pizza anytime they ask now." He lamented.

"Because you now have an elaborate scheme to meet more women?" She laughed. 

He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her palm and making her breathing shallow again. "To thank them. I don't think I'd have the balls to pursue you otherwise." He hummed against her palm.

She scoffed, "Right." She lifted a brow at him.

"See? When you do that you look like you'd break my knees if I bothered you. It's kind of hot." He hummed against her wrist.

"You spoke to me at breakfast!" She tried to counter, her voice meek.

"And you looked like you were in no mood to engage in conversation. You rushed away too." He tugged her arm to pull her closer, pouting his lips. "I was a little intimidated." He mumbled, moving his hands to her hips.

She felt a little dumbstruck. 

Johnny. The Johnny that stood in front of her right now with his dark hair tossed over; in a suit that fitted so well that it had to be custom tailored. The Johnny who currently towered over her frame and looked at her with eyes that bore into hers. This Johnny was intimidated by her?

"Don't be ridiculous." She sounded dazed, before a perplexed laugh came from her lips. "You're just teasing."

"I swear it." He smiled, coming closer to kiss her temples. "When you realised I was the same person from the elevator, you looked so flustered." He chuckled against her ear. "I thought to myself, 'I'd risk getting my knees kicked in just to get a few words in with you'. I was really hoping my charms would work." She lifted her neck as lips went towards her throat. Her mind was foggy while she tried to process everything he just said.

The elevator dinged as it reached the main floor. Reluctantly Johnny let her go, keeping her hand in hers as they walked over to the beach.

"So you really can't think of anything that you would like as a romantic gesture?" Johnny craned his neck towards her, his elbows dug into the towel they picked up at the pool as he propped his upper body up on them, leaving a dent in the sand.

She shook her head at him again, resting her head on her knees. Johnny looked up at the sky, chewing his lips trying to think of something.

"Flowers?"

She wrinkled her nose, "I dislike the concept of giving or buying flowers." At this Johnny sat up further, his eyes furrowed in confusion.

"Why?" His bewildered tone made her smile.

"It seems like a waste to me. Cutting beautiful flowers just so you can bring them home and display it." She thought about it, "To me it says, 'Have this tender thing that I essentially killed for you!’.” She frowned, “Not flowers." She confirmed.

"Damn." Johnny said softly, "You have a point." To that she laughed.

"What about gifts?" He tried.

"I can buy anything I want by myself."

Johnny whined, "That's not the point, (Y/N). It's a gesture, it says: 'I thought of you when I saw this.' or, 'I want you to think of me when you see this'." He held his hands out like he was holding something in them.

"Okay." She conceded, "I guess it depends on the intentions but when you say it like that it sounds kind of nice." She shrugged.

Johnny lay back down on the towel again, laughing in the disjointed way he did when he found something genuinely delightful. 

She smacked his chest, "Don't laugh at me." She mumbled.

"I'm not laughing at you." He rolled over to face her, putting his palm under his head.

"Then?"

Johnny chewed on his bottom lip for a second, "You aren't a romantic, are you?" He didn't sound accusatory, merely curious. She thought about that, coming short of an answer. 

"I don't know actually." She looked up at the moon, "I've never really thought about it."

"How are you like in a relationship?" He readjusted his arm again, bringing the forearm down to rest in front of him and propping himself on a single elbow, toying with his other hand.

She hesitated for a moment, the sound of the waves crashing on the sand and the whistle of the sea breeze in her ears. Her hair tossed in the wind and she took a deep breath. If it was someone else she would have dodged the question. She looked back towards Johnny, patiently watching. Johnny, who was patient and considerate. To the point where she felt so comfortable around him that it felt strange to think that till a week ago she didn't know who he was.

Her eyes drifted away from his, looking over to a hole in the sand— one that a crab had burrowed into it. 

"I've dated twice in my entire life." She breathed out. She thought about the creature that lay somewhere under the warm sand, snug in its shell and lonely in it's comfortable burrow. "Both times were short. More curiosity about how it would feel rather than wanting to be with the person." When she turned her eyes back to Johnny he was watching her with a deeply contemplative face.

She looked back at the horizon where the sea seemed to meet the sky, the line currently blurred in the dark.

"The first time I was young and stupid. He wasn't unkind, he was just the first person who ever asked me out. It was before university and I went for it." Her eyes drifted up the horizon, the sea turning into an ocean of stars. "A month later he told me he wanted to be with me even when we went to Universities on opposite sides of the country." She took a shaky breath, "In hindsight, I was cruel. But I freaked out and just left without saying anything." She took another long breath, finally turning to look at him. 

Johnny still didn't say anything, still looking at her with those same eyes.

She willed herself on, "I had my life ahead of me, you know? I wanted to see things, see the world." She laughed at the words, thinking about her old self— naive and hopeful. "I didn't want to go off to University already committed to a guy that I hardly knew. A guy I didn't even like." She took another breath.

Her eyes drifted back to the waves again, the moonlight making the sea foam look like it was glowing. She sighed. She had started now, she might as well finish.

"I ended up not dating the rest of University." She shrugged, "I realised that I didn't even like casual sex." She paused, turning to him quickly. "That isn't to say that I have a problem with it. It's just not something that worked for me." Johnny finally gave her a nod, the small reassuring smile on his lips making her feel like she could finally breathe. "I did a lot of stupid shit that I regret now." She groaned, pushing her hair back from her face.

"You were young." He mumbled. Hearing his voice after the long silence felt a little jarring. "We all did stupid shit when we were young. That's what it's about anyway." He shifted again, sitting up and crossing his legs, "Trial and error." He said thoughtfully, his eyes roaming her face.

"So." She sighed, "I didn't date anyone after that. I didn't care about it anyway, I wanted to be someone more than be with someone." She paused, laughing. "That sounds so stupid when I say it out loud." She scoffed.

"No." Johnny spoke, eyes furrowed. "That's one of the most important things I've heard anybody say." He looked resolute. "Being someone is the most important thing we can do. It’s why we have this head,” He tapped against his, “With its desires and opinions and voice." She looked at him as he spoke, putting something she could not really pin down, into words. Tangible, with nowhere to hide from them. "It's important to be someone real, not just what you think you are for people." His voice dropped low, like he was afraid of breaking something.

"Yes." She breathed out, "When you know who you are, you can allow yourself to be understood." Johnny smiled at that.

A tender silence fell between them, one of contemplation. The waves came close as the tide rose. She released her knees to sit back, feeling cramped from the position. She sighed, relaxing into the night.

"And the second?" Johnny asked after a while. She turned to him, the context lost on her. "The second guy you dated." He clarified. Her eyes lit up with the epiphany before she looked back down, tracing the geometric patterns on the towel under them with her eyes.

"It was someone I met when I had only just started working." She picked at the piece of lint that disrupted the flow of the patterns. "It was fine till he thought I never had time for him." She smiled sadly to herself, looking back up at Johnny once she pulled the thread out. "I didn't mind when he broke it off. There was nothing I could do. He wanted a girl who would take care of him— I hardly take care of myself most of the time. We just weren't a good match." She didn't feel regretful.

"How long ago was that?" He tried to sound casual, she knew that. But the anxiety in his eyes gave him away.

"Four years." She didn't hesitate.

"You haven't been with someone for four years?" He coughed the moment he realised that he sounded too shocked. She smiled at his careful efforts.

"No." She shrugged, "I let myself get busy with work. I found myself enjoying a walk in the park by myself or a late night movie alone. It was little things at first, and then I realised." She gave him a smile, "I genuinely enjoy my own company." She chuckled as the long held thought manifested into words.

"That life sounds good." He chuckled. Johnny looked down at the towel, finding his own piece of lint to fiddle with.

"It is." She assured him. She paused, taking a breath as a thought that had been scratching against the edges of her mind inched closer.

Her eyes fluttered over his features; the full pucker of his lips, the soft curve high curve of his nose. He focused on the way his hair rested on his forehead and his eyelashes framed his lids, brushing against his cheeks as his eyes stayed on the towel.

She thought about the red tie he wore at dinner and the way he kissed her in front of both their friends just to prove a point. She remembered the way he smiled at his friends, and the way he playfully teased Mark. She pictured him, alone in a new apartment for the first time, wanting home

She took a small breath, something clicking into place inside her, "And then I met you." Johnny stopped fidgeting with the towel, looking up with a look so vulnerable that a conditioned panic rose up her throat. She quelled it, deciding that she didn't need the reflex. "And I think for the first time I realised that life could also be content." Her breathing picked up, the vulnerability she suddenly felt no doubt reflected in her eyes. "And I think I also just found an answer to your question." A smile played on her lips. 

He furrowed his brows at her, tilting his head like he didn't know what she was talking about. 

"I like gestures." Her lips grew wider, "I want someone to show how they feel about me. I find action romantic." She paused again, closing her eyes and ignoring the burn on her cheeks as she spoke the next sentence, "Gestures that would seemingly go unnoticed, small acts that aren't meant to prove anything other than just being." She raised her palm, gently touching his face, "That's what swept me off my feet."

She finished her confession, waiting for him to say something. Johnny searched her eyes, still looking for something.

"You haven't been with anyone in four years." He assessed the words, "You've only been with two people in your entire life." He repeated her words. 

She gave him a nervous nod, unsure of where this was going. After the high of her confession started to fade, she realised that there was a possibility that he didn't want all the things she did.

"Do you want to be with me?" His eyebrows knit to impossibly close together.

She tried to hide her nerves with a jab, "I was sure I was speaking to you just now." She joked. Johnny put a finger under her chin, lifting it and staring at her with a serious expression.

"(Y/N). He pleaded softly.

"Without a shadow of a doubt." She felt a weight lift off her chest when Johnny's eyes finally lit up.

"I will cherish this like the privilege it is." He promised, "Cherish you." He pulled in closer, finally kissing her. She put her palm on his chest and pushed gently, Johnny sat back willingly. He wrapped his arms under her knees, bringing her closer to him. He kept his hands in place as she slowly explored his body with her hands. He kept still as she explored his mouth with her tongue.

With a slowly building resolution, she brought her fingers up to his neck, tugging him to her, trying to get that much closer. He finally moved his hands, grabbing her waist and pulling her into his. She sighed in relief, surrounded by his warmth and scent. Her hand slipped to his shoulder, pulling him closer. His chest pressing against hers as she pressed her tongue against his. Her other hand landed on his thigh and when she dragged her nails on the trousers his hips bucked up. She smiled against his lips, feeling victorious she ground her hips into his. She heard him groan, his arms moving up her waist. She did it again. He slipped his arms to her thighs, before stroking back up again— silent encouragement. 

She sat up a little further, arching her back till she was impossibly close to him. Her fingers went into his hair for leverage and she rolled her hips again. Johnny pulled back from the kiss with a stutter.

“(Y/N).” He growled his warning, she took the chance to kiss down his jaw. He raised his head to give her access, groaning. “I’m going to cum into my pants like a teenager.” He tried to warn her off. A soft whine left her lips the moment she thought about that, only rolling her hips with more purpose. Johnny laughed, a deep throaty laugh that made his adam’s apple bob as her lips brushed against it. She licked the skin gently. When he said her name then, it was a defeated whine.

He was so hot like this. So hot that it felt like she wouldn’t be able to stop even if she wanted. She slipped a hand down his chest, brushing it against the strained bulge in his pants. He grabbed her wrist, making her laugh softly against his shoulder blade.

“Please.” She whispered, his fingers loosened their grip but stayed around her wrist. She lay her palm flat on his cock, rubbing it up and down. He let her hand go with a defeated huff, putting both his hands behind him to lean back. She watched his face, the anguished crease of his forehead, the way his lips parted and then closed when he swallowed, his eyes squeezed shut. 

She slowed down her pace. Johnny opened his eyes to look down at her. Despite the situation, it was her breathing that picked up under his gaze.

“Do you want to cum?” She asked him, she felt him twitch under her palm. For a second he didn’t respond, only watching her with those eyes— like he would devour her if given the opportunity. Both their rapid breaths became the only sound between them, he raised a brow at her. She bit down on her lower lip. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t move. All he did was watch her, waiting. 

Finally she took the liberty, moving her hand again. He inhaled sharply, eyes fixed on her. She increased her pace.

He threw his head back after a moment, his throat bobbing, “(Y/N), fuck.” He groaned as his hips bucked again, his cock twitching. Then she felt it, the spreading heat.

“You came in your pants.” Her voice was a mix of surprise and pride. He sat back, his eyes impossibly dark, his brows still furrowed. He grabbed the back to her neck, bringing his lips to hers. He devoured her like his eyes had promised, kissing her with fervent urgency.

He pulled away too soon, getting up from the ground. She watched as he adjusted his pants, his jaw setting hard when his fingers brushed against the wet patch on the front of his pants. He gave her his hand after he finished, hoisting her up.

“I’m going to return the favour.” He warned, “Let’s go.” He pulled her away.

Johnny tapped his index finger against the reception desk, the pace of it increasing with each passing moment. She felt apologetic towards the man who stood on the other side of the desk, staring at the computer screen in front of him.

“I’m sorry, sir.” He looked up, repeated exactly what he said moments ago. “All our rooms are booked up. Between the wedding and seasonal crowds, there is nothing. I can’t even see rooms that are currently on hold.” His voice was of professional regret.

Johnny ran his fingers through his hair, the frown on his features growing. She felt herself rub her thighs together.

“You don’t have a single empty room in this entire place?” He was trying to be polite, she knew that. He kept his voice leveled and tried to sound more like he was coaxing than demanding. But the frustration that was all over his face was justifiably intimidating. The man tapped his pen against a notepad.

“We have the pool villas on the other side of the property–” He started.

“I’ll take it.” Johnny reached for his pocket, taking his wallet out.

“Wait,” She tugged his arm, “This isn’t necessary. Johnny.” She felt the guilt rack over her. He gave her the smallest smirk.

“Don’t back off now. You started this.” He exhaled through his teeth, handing the card to the man behind the desk with his eyes on her.

A thought occurred to him, making him turn back to the man at the front desk, “Just make sure it’s as far away from the one booked for the wedding couple.” Johnny gave the guy a meaningful look. He nodded at him, a smile forming on his lips when he turned to swipe the card.

The walk was an excruciatingly long one. They took the beach to keep the route as swift as possible. (Y/N) held her heels in her hand and his jacket around her shoulders. Despite her insistence that she couldn’t possibly feel cold by the beach, he wrapped her in it anyway, a smirk on his lips. It currently brushed against her thigh, somehow longer than her dress.

“I can’t believe you did that.” She groaned when she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “An entire villa.” She groaned again.

“Do you want this?” He stopped walking suddenly, turning to her with soft eyes. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I’m fine with just talking to you, I love talking to you. I know you haven’t had sex in a while. Don’t feel like you have to because of this.” He shook the keycard in front of him.

“Of course I want to do this.” She spoke before he finished. “Have I not made that abundantly obvious?”

“Then don’t worry about the place, it doesn’t mean anything.” He reassured her, turning to start walking again.

“I just feel like I forced you into this.” She grimaced. He took her hand in his squeezing like he was silently telling her off for thinking that.

“If I don’t fuck you right now I’m going to go crazy.” He said it casually, missing her hitched inhale, “I know you feel the same. Kneading into me on the beach under the open skies. I told you, don’t back out now.” He turned to burn his heated gaze into her, “I’ve spent days losing sleep over imagining how you look naked under me. I just didn’t want to do it anywhere. You deserve better than that.”

A tortured noise came from her throat, reluctantly she let the matter of the villa go. It was the most reckless and illogical thing he could do. But everything about this week felt so quixotic that this might as well have happened too.

Her heart started picking up when Johnny pulled into the steps of one of the villas on the row of them that stretched across the beach, walking up the stairs with her hand still firmly in his. The door beeped when he tapped the card on the handle and then they were inside a dark room that looked too big. She dropped her heels on the floor. Johnny flicked a light switch by the door, illuminating the entrance. 

Stairs went up a few feet in front of them, the seating area in front of them leading to french doors on the other side that spanned the entire expanse of the back wall. 

Johnny leaned down to brush his lips against her temples, her eyes fluttering shut. "How about a dip in the pool?" His voice was liquid velvet. At his words, she noticed the reflection of a pool outside the glass. She wanted to say no, pull him upstairs instead. "Ever since I saw you swimming the other day, I haven't been able to get the image of it out of my mind." He chuckled into her hair.

She turned to him, "You have very specific fantasies." She noted mockingly.

"I like to think of it as an extension of knowing exactly what I want." His fingers slid down hers, "Plus," His lips brushed over her eyes. "I promised, remember? When I finally get the chance, I would take my time with you. I promised to be slow and agonising." His other hand pushed her hair back, light fingers skimming against her shoulder and making her shiver.

"Johnny." She whined in protest, earning a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"You have some much needed retribution in store." The words filled her with dread and anticipation.

"Can't you just punish me later?" She gave him wide eyes and a soft pout.

"You think that helps your cause.” He chuckled, “But you're only making things worse for yourself." He warned, "You made me ruin my suit." He reprimanded.

"You seemed to like it." She mumbled, looking down at the floor. 

He slipped a finger on her chin, making her look up at him, "And you will like what I am going to do to you as well." He coaxed, a look of devious vow in his eyes.

Then his eyes turned darker, furrowing his brows. "So take off your dress. Let's go enjoy the most of this place I was forced to take because of your lack of self control." 

"You told me not to worry about that!" She smacked his shoulder in indignation, making him laugh.

"You don't need to worry about it. You just need to know that you willingly pushed me off the edge of my self control." He wrapped his arm around her waist and he walked away, guiding her to the doors on the opposite side of the building.

Johnny took off his suit slower than she’d like, in retaliation she didn’t touch her dress till he was done. She watched intently the whole time, watching as he took off his tie; then very slowly unbuttoned his shirt— something she urged to do herself. She dug her feet in place instead, eyes tracing his chest. She had seen his arms before, felt his chest under her palm a few times, she knew she was well built. But, as he peeled the shirt off his shoulder, nothing she could picture in her head could do justice to the man who stood in front of her. She swallowed, realising after that, yes, she was literally drooling while staring at his body. 

After he took the shirt off, he looked up to her face. She snapped her eyes up to his face like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Amusement danced in Johnny’s eyes but he didn’t speak. She kept her eyes fixed on his face as she heard the rattle of his belt. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, pulling out every inch of free will she had to keep her eyes in place as his pants fell to the floor. He stepped out of them, keeping his gaze fixed in hers as well. Then he frowned, bending down to pick up his pants.

 He neatly placed his clothes on a chair, pointing an accusatory finger at her clothed body after. “Why is that still on you?” His voice brushed against her skin even from the distance.

She willed herself to keep her eyes glued to his face. “I’m considering your constructive criticism. Trying to exercise more self control.” She kept her voice surprisingly steady, metally patting herself on the back.

“Oh?” He stepped closer to her, “And you think now is the time for you to learn that?” He tilted his head, his gait predatory.

She raised her chin in defiance, giving him a nod.

“Where was this self control when you had my fingers deep inside you in a car on the highway, hmm? Or when you needed me to kiss you right outside a gathering of people we both know?” He came and stood in front of her, brushing his fingers where her dress met her thighs. She focused on the wild look in his eyes, trying to ignore the chill his fingers sent down her spine.

“I told you,” Her voice came out throaty. “I’m learning.” Johnny smirked.

“Alright.” He hummed, pushing her arms up. She didn’t resist. She didn’t resist when he peeled her dress off either. She tried to ignore the heat that rose up from her chest to her face when he looked at her body, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands. Johnny took his time drinking in her frame. She bit her lip. When he looked up, his eyes looked bored. “We’ll see how long it lasts, hmm baby?” Her toes curled at the purr in his voice.

“I want to kiss you.” Johnny said from the other side of the pool. She hummed. He narrowed his eyes, “Come here.” He wasn’t asking. She moved across the water, her bra sticking uncomfortably to her chest. He pulled her close to him, “Do you want me to touch you?” She hummed again. He held her chin in his hands, “Words.” His voice licked up her spine.

“Yes.” She breathed out.

“Where?”

“Everywhere.” 

Johnny took a sharp breath, tongue running across his lips. Her eyes drifted to the movement, looking back up seconds later.

“But?” He narrowed his eyes, suspicious of her intention.

She smirked, “I won’t touch you. Not till you ask.”

“Wretched girl.” He gave her a wicked smile, “Where have you been all my life?” He sighed, reaching his lips down to her neck. He licked a strip up her neck and she gasped out loud, her head falling back. He looked back to grin at her, before turning her around and going back to her neck. She rested her head back against his chest, jumping with a yelp when he grazed his teeth on the skin behind her neck. She felt him smile against her skin.

“As someone who claimed that time is their luxury, you sure are generous with it.” She winched when he bit down on her shoulder, soothing the skin with his tongue.

“I’m a very generous person.” He whispered, brushing his tongue on the shell of her ear.

She hummed, “So I see. Though I wish you were more generous about certain things over others.” He bit her earlobe, she mewled.

“I thought you wanted to learn self control?” He kissed behind her ear.

“Yes, but you seem like a man thoroughly well read in the subject.” She whined, “You can be exempt from this lesson.” She tried to keep up with his words while his mouth kept up its persistence.

“I would prefer to lead by example.” He bit the back of her neck, she clenched impossibly hard.

“And I would prefer you inside me.” She groaned. He laughed into her hair, kissing her spine lazily. 

She pulled away from him with a frown, turning to look at him, “Johnny Suh, I swear to god!” She huffed, he shifted to kiss her lips. She huffed against his lips, both annoyed and aroused by his incessant antics. He was seemingly an expert at it, bringing her just to the brink of irritation before driving her wild with need. She kept her hands firmly at her side, the urge to touch him making her light-headed.

In the meantime, his hands touched her bare skin. Her back, stomach, waist. He brushed his fingers on her abdomen, where the elastic of her bra dug into her skin, the thing felt like a hindrance. 

He pulled away from the kiss, a pleased look in his eyes. “Not even a little graze. You’re a diligent student.” He lifted his now swollen lips. 

Anger flared inside her, only making her want him more. “You’re a dick.” She pulled away from him, but he touched her arm and drew her back till her back was on his chest again.

“You deserve a reward for your tenacity.” He put his hand flat on her stomach, circling around her navel with his thumb. 

Then he slowly took his hand lower.

Every nerve in her body fired up in anticipation. She shivered when his thumb grazed the skin just above the elastic of her underwear, she huffed. She felt his other hand sneak between them, unbuckling the clasp of her bra. She sighed very audibly when it slid down her arms, too busy feeling the relief of it’s removal to feel shy at the moment.

“This,” His voice barely a breath. His palm grazed one of her breasts. “I’ve been waiting to do for a while.” He rolled her nipple between his fingers, she bucked up closer to his touch. His other hand brushed over her underwear, she dropped her head back to his shoulder. He slipped his fingers in to graze a finger up her slit, then down— his touch featherlight. She felt like she could weep. He parted her folds, the cold water around them touching her warm clit, making her grasp and also reminding her where she was.

“Johnny.” She said through gritted teeth. “Please.” Her voice dissolved into a moan when he pressed his finger against her clit hard.

Every nerve in her body felt like they had been lit on fire deliberately. He drew slow circles around the bundle of nerves. She lifted her hands instinctively, remembering her claim and putting it over her mouth instead.

“Touch me, (Y/N).” He whispered in her ear, the sound akin to a plea as he plunged a finger inside her. She didn’t have the sense to hesitate, threading her fingers through his hair.

She would have cum in moments, had he not been so distressingly slow. This slow, she felt every graze, every joint and every curl. When he added another finger, he remained loyal to his pace. The pressure between her legs felt unbearable.

“You’re so tight.” He groaned against her temples, “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby. I’ll make your long wait worth it.” He parted his fingers inside her, opening and closing till she felt her walls ease under his efforts. “I’ll make sure you feel good.” He kissed her temple, his thumb pressing into her clit, flicking the hood with his blunt nails.

Her orgasm built up slowly, so slow that she felt every twitch and every muscle tightening. She moaned out his name and he connected his lips to her, rubbing a thumb on her nipple which the other continued it’s ministrations on her clit. All of that combined with his fingers pumping slowly inside her felt too much. She felt moisture prickle on the corner of her eyes— tears of relief as her legs shook and her orgasm crashing through her body in multiple waves. She squirmed in his hold, grabbing his wrist to make him stop. He obeyed, bringing both his hands to her waist, turning her back to face him.

“How do we feel?” His face one of concern, his eyes soft, all traces of the menace he was moments ago tucked away. She gave him a smile.

“Good.” She confirmed, “Great.” She sighed.

Johnny gazed at her face for a second, “You’re so beautiful.” He stated. His brazen ease leaving her cheeks hot.

“So are you.” She laughed to herself.

“I think I’m rather handsome actually.” He grinned, “And sexy.” He winked.

“So sexy.” She was compelled to agree, closing her eyes and knitting her brows. Like the idea was too much. Johnny grinned a little more.

“Want to go upstairs?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I genuinely thought you would never ask.” She frowned at him. He took her chin in his fingers to give her a chaste kiss, before lifting her in her arms.

“I can walk!” She looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I am aware.” Was all he said as he got out of the water.

“So put me down!” She felt herself blush.

“No. I know you can walk, I want to carry you anyway. It’s for my benefit. I want to enjoy the view.” He winked. She groaned and put her hands on her face, burying it in his chest and mumbling something. “What was that?” His voice was cocky.

“You like embarrassing people. It’s a deplorable habit.” She lifted her head to repeat herself and then hid her face again. Johnny just laughed.

He dropped her on the bed, an eager grin on his face as he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. He raked his eyes over her body, like he was trying to memorise her features.

“Can I eat you out?” When he looked back at her face, his playful grin was replaced with an intent gaze. Johnny sat down on his knees on the floor at the edge of the bed. She sat up and scooted closer to the edge, placing her feet on the floor and giving him a meaningful look.

“Johnny.” She looked at him seriously, “Listen to me. You’re absolutely without a doubt the most considerate lover I’ve ever encountered.” She put her palm on his cheek, he nuzzled into the touch and she mirrored the content smile that spread on his lips. “You’re very sweet and very charming.” She rubbed her thumb on his cheek. “But, I swear to god.” She laughed, “If you don’t put your penis inside my vagina right now, I’m going to slap you silly.”

“Is that a promise?” He raised his brows, trying to tease despite the blood that rushed into his face.

“Johnny!”

He laughed, “Alright, alright. I’ll give you this considerate dick.” She groaned at the words, rolling her eyes. “But there’s something I want to ask you first.” His eyes moved away from her face to look around the room.

“What?” She swallowed.

“I have to be in Hong Kong after this trip. It’s part of the reason why I got the week off.” He paused, shaking his head. “That’s irrelevant.” He scoffed, running his hand through his hair and taking her hands into his. “I’ll be there for a month. But when I come back.” He paused, releasing a nervous exhale and looking at her with soft eyes, “I want to see you again. I want to take you to my favourite restaurant, and then I want you to see you some more.” They both blinked at each other, the silent contemplations of vulnerability.

Johnny sat back, “I was going to wait to say this. But I don’t think I can, I think I’m a little whipped for you. Especially when you tell me to put my penis into your vagina.” She shoved his shoulder, a sound coming from her lips that were a mix of a groan and a laugh. 

Johnny laughed too. “I told you,” He spoke after their giggles died down. “I want to court you. And I meant it.” He smiled at her.

“You’re such a romantic aren’t you?” She smiled, feeling somewhere between the hope and dread that she had heard came with real feelings for a person. “One condition.” She looked at him.

“Yeah?”

“If you make me walk up the Vessel I will leave you there.”

The smile he gave her made her shiver, “Deal.” He gave her a lopsided grin, pushing back from her.

He stood up, motioning her to go up to the pillows with his index finger. She complied with a victorious smile. He put his knees on the mattress, crawling up to cage her body. He looked down at her with a smirk, searching her face.

“Ready?” He murmured. She nodded shyly, the boldness from moments ago already dissipating under his gaze. “When I saw you at the gym the other day, the unsolicited thought that plagued me was what you’d look like under me.” He smiled down at her, his words making her heart pick up it’s pace. He dropped his arm to his elbow, using the other to hold her cheek and kiss her. It was a brief kiss, but one that felt so impossibly intimate that her toes curled and goosebumps erupted all over her skin.

He kissed down her neck, taking a nipple in between his lips as his finger looped around the edge of her underwear, her fingers combed into his soft hair. He dragged the piece of fabric down till her shin and she kicked it off. When his hips ground into hers she gasped his name. He shifted his focus to her other breast, grinding his hips into her again and making curse words stumble out her lips, she wanted him to take his off too. His fingers parted her folds, teasing her hole with his thumb. She fisted his hair, her back lifting off the mattress. He stopped suddenly, pulling away and sitting back on his knees. She was already forming her annoyed response when he spoke.

“I need to go get my wallet.” He spoke like he remembered something. 

She sat up with an incredulous expression, both their faces flushed and breathing shallow. “What?” He breathed out, a little too dazed to keep up with him.

“I took condoms from the gift bag we gave Doyoung today. They’re in my wallet.” He ran his hands through his hair, still breathing fast.

“Oh.” She blushed, “Go.”

She sat in silence for a second, the air conditioning making her skin prickle. As her breathing calmed down, a smile spread across her face, then a soft laugh. There was something so incredibly thrilling and comfortable at the same time about Johnny. She remembered his face when he realised he didn’t have his wallet, covering her mouth to muffle her laugh.

When she heard footsteps come up the stairs she bit down on her lips too hard.

“What’s so funny?” He walked into the room, wearing just his briefs and looking so utterly irresistible.

“You.” Her laugh escaped her lips.

“I don’t know how to feel about you laughing at me while we stand here, very naked.” Even while he joked, his eyes explored her body with hunger.

“You aren’t naked yet.” She pointed at the piece of clothing that had overstayed its welcome.

“We can change that.” He tossed his wallet on the bed, leaning over to honour her request. “Will you take the condom out?” He said absentmindedly as he kicked his briefs off.

She turned to the square of black leather, swallowing and looking back up, “I don’t think I should touch your wallet.” A nervous laugh came out in the form of a huff. 

Johnny gave her a look of amusement, “I ask you to be my girlfriend and you think touching my wallet is going too far?”

For the shortest moment, she was too distracted by the view of his naked body; his dick spring up to his waist— angry red and too big. The next moment, his words seemed to register in her head.

She looked up at him, looking lost. “You want me to be your girlfriend?”

The laugh that left Johnny’s lips was of incredulous frustration, “Yes.” He said patiently, “I thought I was transparent but I guess something got lost in translation.” He teased with sarcasm. He gave her an endearing smile, “(Y/N) I think you’re fucking incredible and I want you to be my girlfriend.” He came closer towards the bed, “Now will you please take that pesky condom out so I can show you a very compelling reason why saying yes is in your best interests?” 

She scrambled to grab the wallet, opening it to search for what he wanted.

“The pocket in the middle.” He pointed, close enough to do it himself but still standing still. She was very aware that he was absolutely naked— she was too, but between the two bodies, his was the one she wasn’t used to seeing. It took her longer than she was proud of to finally produce a string of foil packets, at least five.

“You came prepared.” She stared at them for a second before tearing one off.

“I’m an optimist.” The words made her laugh, throwing her head back. She handed him the packet, holding it in her hand firmly even after he grabbed it. He looked up at her in question.

“I do,” She inhaled, “for the record.” She felt a little dizzy.

“What?” He furrowed his brows, looking down at her.

“Want to be your girlfriend.” His eyes grew slightly, before he smirked.

“Are you sure you don’t at least want a demo first?” A smile tugged at his lips.

“No, I think I’ll take it. Something tells me the parts work fine.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” He leaned into her, kissing the corner of her mouth before pushing back to look at her again. He smiled, kissing her in earnest after that.

“Up.” He spoke against her lips, standing back up and lifting the foil packet. She scooted up to the pillow. A frown fell over Johnny’s features for a moment as he thought about something.

“This could be a bit uncomfortable. You haven’t done this in a while and I’m a little–” He paused then laughed, a little embarrassed. “I’m not trying to be cocky. I just don’t want to hurt you.” He explained. 

Her eyes drifted to his dick. She swallowed a lump forming in her throat, as her eyes wandered over the thick veins on his shaft, the red tip— he was big. It seemed to twitch under her scrutiny, despite herself she thought she could feel her mouth water a little. Johnny stood and waited patiently. She dragged her eyes back up to his face.

“Just go slow.” She requested.

“Of course.” He nodded, tearing the packet open.

She lay back on her elbows, watching him sheath his cock. She rubbed her thighs together. When his knees dipped the mattress, she looked up at his darkening eyes.

“Now. Where were we?” His predatory gaze zeroed in on her face as he managed to cage her under him again. 

He kissed her deeper this time, she craned her neck to facilitate his endeavour. One elbow propped him up while the other caressed her side, making her shiver and reach out to grab his shoulders. Everything about him in the moment felt too perfect for her fragile mind to completely grasp. The way his back flexed under her touch, his smooth skin, his intoxicating smell and his soft, plush lips all made her feel like she was bursting from the seams.

He pulled away from her lips, a pout falling on her face at the sudden lack of his lips on hers. He laughed, kissing the corner of her mouth and plunging two fingers inside her easily. Her eyes fluttered shut as her lips parted softly.

“Relax a little for me baby.” He urged her, his voice a low hum. She wanted to tell him that it would be unfathomable to even ask her that when he looked at her like there was currently no one else in the world. But she gave him a quick nod and exhaled softly, easing her muscles into the bed. He popped his fingers out, plunging them in faster.

“That feels good.” She mewled as her words made him pick up pace.

“I can’t wait to feel what it's like to be inside you.” He added under finger, her legs twitching from the sensation. “Do you want to cum like this?” He asked. The vigorous shake of her head she gave him made him laugh, she wanted him inside her. “Alright.” He pulled his fingers out and despite it being her request she whined, her eyes fluttering open. He brought his fingers to his lips and she was sure that she was about to go insane as his tongue poked out to lick them.

He entered her slowly, his eyes cemented on her face. She willed her eyes to stay open as he entered her, she wanted to see him. The feeling of being filled this excruciatingly slow made her toes curl, Johnny bit his bottom lip. She could feel him fill her so completely, every little crevice slowly brimming with the sensation of him. Her fingers dug into his back. Johnny’s eyebrows furrowed, his lips parting softly. He stopped, searching her face for an answer to a silent question. When she nodded a choked sigh left his lips, slowly he went deeper. Her back arched as she felt him so deep inside her, her body dissolving into pure nerves and sensation.

“Just a little more.” His voice was strained, the veins on his neck tight. She gave him a nod, her eyes fluttering closed when she finally felt him balls deep. Johnny sighed, falling closer to her body, littering kisses all over her face, her neck. “Such a good baby. Taking me so well.” He licked her clavicle. “You’re so tight, (Y/N).” He whined against her neck, “I think I’m going to lose my mind.” He sighed, staying in place and giving her the time she needed.

She wanted to remember this feeling forever, of feeling so full. Sex hadn’t been something that felt intimate to her before, it was an impersonal act of pleasure when people became creatures of basic instincts.

Yet, everything about this moment felt more intimate than anything she could recall. The soft look in his eyes, the patience of his movement, the feeling of him inside her. She wanted to weep into her shoulders and hold him in her arms.

“Move.” She whispered in his ears, kissing the lobe softly. He whined again, shaking his head forcefully. 

As he pulled out, they both gasped. His next thrust was smoother, the one after that even more sure. Her hand dropped to the sheet from his shoulder, fisting it till she felt pinpricks on her knuckles. He pulled back, balancing his frame of a single elbow, the other grabbing her waist. His thrusts got harder as he maintained his slow pace.

“Fuck.” She gasped, forehead gathering in focus.

“I’m trying, baby believe me.” He groaned. She opened her eyes, a mix of a chuckle and a whimper leaving her lips at the grin on his face.

“I like when you call me that.” She admitted, “Baby.” She whined as he seemed to find an angle that hit the right spot inside her, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “You like being my baby?” 

She nodded.

“I’m going to take such good care of you baby. Now and for as long as you let me.” He kissed her neck, his dick twitching inside from his own words. She moaned his name softly.

“I think I’m going to.” Her face twisted.

“Look at me, (Y/N). Touch me please.” He growled.

She forced her eyes open, “I don’t want to scratch your skin.” She pouted, he snapped his hips and she gasped.

“Yes you do, and do I. Hold me.” He cooed, bringing his arm up to brush her hair away from her face. She obeyed, his hand going to his back— her nails digging into his skin. 

Johnny moaned her name. “Can I go faster?” His brows creased further, the words a plea.

“Yes.” She gasped out, “Please.”

She clenched around his as her orgasm shattered through her body. Johnny’s face fell into her neck, gasping as her walls clenched around him repeatedly. His thrusts got sloppier and quicker as he reached his own high, her name a repeated symphony on his lips.

His body relaxed on top of her for a moment, the weight thrusting the air out of her lungs even though she was certain it wasn’t the full extent of it. He left a string of sloppy kisses on her cheek and neck till a giggle bubbled to her throat, his own chuckle was a throaty one.

When he pushed off her, she was starkly aware of his absence. The next moment, he put his arm around her waist and dragged her close to him. She suddenly felt shy, her eyes focused on his chest, tracing her fingers. He laughed his breathy disjointed laugh she was coming to adore, embracing her closer to his chest. He kissed her forehead, his thumb caressing her back.

“What is your go-to meal after a bad day?” He hummed against her hair.

She looked up at him, a quizzical grin on her face. “That’s the first thing you say?” She scoffed.

He laughed again, “Well I already took a giant leap of faith before sleeping with you and asked you to date me after knowing you exactly five day.” He squeezed her frame, “So I thought I’d lighten up the pillow talk.” She scoffed again, but her cheeks tinted red.

“Anything that takes me over an hour to make would do.” She answered his question after a moment’s thought. The look he gave her made her laugh, “Here me out. I usually listen to music, or maybe a podcast. It’s an hour or more of not thinking about anything other than the task at hand, and in the end there’s physical evidence of your labour. Evidence that is also delicious.” 

Understanding seeped into Johnny’s eyes. He smiled at her with a nod, “I think I get it.” She kissed his chin.

Day 6

Johnny stirred awake with a tug on his shoulder, squinting as the morning light first illuminated his view. (Y/N) smiled down at his sleepy face, standing over him.

“Why are you already out of bed?” His voice was a sleepy groan of protest, pouting his lower lip.

“We’ll be late for breakfast.” She explained.

Johnny gave her a relaxed smile, “Who cares? Come back in bed.” He turned over to grab at the air between them. 

She breathed out a light laugh at his antics.

“Come on! Don’t you want a cup of coffee?” She tempted him.

“I want you more.” 

She cursed her heart for picking up at something so cheesy, a humorous groan coming from her as she cringed at his words. Johnny rolled over to lay on his back and laughed.

“Okay fine.” He surrendered, sitting up and letting the sheet fall to his waist, “But on the condition we come back and get right back.” He patted the mattress.

Her eyes roamed his chest, wondering just how this man was currently naked in front of her. Then she registered his words, “You want to keep the villa?” She blinked.

“Yeah. How else am I going to do the things I want to you?” He asked like it was obvious. 

Her breath stuttered, “Fine. But you let me pay half of whatever fortune this place costs.” She gestured to the room with her arm.

“No.” He rubbed his sleepy face.

“Johnny.” She tried to reason.

“Please,” He whined. “I want to take care of you.”

She chuckled, sitting on the bed beside him and putting her fingers on his cheek. “You can do that in other ways. In ways that matter more. I can afford to pay for it, that’s something I’m immensely proud of. So let me?”

He chewed on his lips for a second but nodded at her, her smile growing wider.

Breakfast was a mistake.

She had made it a point to text Joohyun about where she was last night. It was to ensure that her friends weren’t under the assumption that she drowned in the ocean. Upon entering the restaurant, she suddenly wished she had drowned. 

A chorus of claps with a few cheers came from a set of tables in the corner of the room. A few other guests and Doyoung and Sooyoung’s parents turned towards the commotion with confusion.

“You were right.” She grabbed Johnny’s arm, “Let’s just go back now.” Johnny laughed at her reddening cheeks.

“Let’s go get some coffee.” He reminded her. She wanted to groan.

It was with a lot of reluctance that she walked up to the corner where their collective friends sat together, grinning at the both of them. She tried to hide behind Johnny, but he just put his arms on her shoulder. 

At the moment, she hated him.

“Well well, look who decided to finally show up.” Yeri laughed. (Y/N) turned to bury her face in Johnny’s shoulders.

“We were all making bets about whether you would show up or not.” Yuta sniggered.

“I didn’t want to.” Johnny shrugged, “(Y/N) insisted we come for the coffee.” He raised the hand in which he carried his cup.

“Wow, this must be serious if Johnny Suh wanted to skip his morning caffeine.” Taeil poked at Haechan who nodded with mock surprise.

“Guys.” Johnny frowned before he changed it to a grin, “Don’t tease my girlfriend.” 

“Girlfriend?!” Seulgi and Jungwoo shrieked together. The rest also had surprise etched all over their face.

“Kill me.” She groaned, trying to get Johnny’s arm off her shoulder but he didn’t budge.

Johnny just shrugged, no sign of hesitation or regret on his face. “When I know, I know.” It oddly comforted her.

“Alright, we’re going to go find something to eat.” Johnny waved at them.

“You will come back right here so Joohyun and I can grill you, understood?” Sooyoung’s threat was meaningful. “You have another thing coming if you think I’ll let you dazzle our best friend into this without a thorough interview. Okay?” (Y/N) had to admit, even she felt intimidated by the expression Sooyoung had on her face. Johnny swallowed, turning to give (Y/N) a look that begged for help.

She just gave him a shrug, “You brought this upon yourself. Also, they have the standing authority on this, I can’t do anything about it.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon to be her boyfriend?” Sooyoung spoke after she took a sip of her juice, “And don’t turn to her with every question.” She snapped, Johnny jerked his head back to face Sooyoung. “(Y/N) is very capable but she isn’t all that experienced with dating.”

“Sooyoung.” (Y/N) sighed.

“I don’t intend to overwhelm, (Y/N). I just think we’d be good together.” He shrugged.

“Don’t you think it’s a little soon to be so sure of that?” Joohyun’s tone was softer, but the question was no less blunt.

“No, not for me. If she decides later that it was then it’ll be an honest effort on both out parts. I was merely honest about my feelings.” He dropped his cutlery and looked up at them both confidently. (Y/N) lifted her hand to squeeze his.

“Damn.” Jungwoo mumbled, “He’s good.”

“Will you choose her over work?” Sooyoung followed.

“Sooyoung.” (Y/N) warned.

“What? You should know these things!” Sooyoung huffed.

“He doesn’t need to pick anything. These things can exist in tandem, I’m not going to ask anybody to pick me over something they’ve built for years, that’s unfair.” She furrowed her brows.

“(Y/N)–” Johnny turned to her.

“No. Don’t answer that. If you asked me the same question I’d kick you.” She was still frowning, Johnny’s lips turned up in amusement.

“Fine.” Sooyoung surrendered.

“I’ll never do anything that hurts her.” Johnny said softly, giving Sooyoung a reassuring smile.

“He really wouldn’t” Doyoung urged Sooyoung, “Johnny doesn’t have an inconsiderate bone in his body. He gave up a very important merger to come for our wedding. Something he has to go to Hong Kong to fix.”

“He once cancelled on a big client because I broke my arm and didn’t have anyone to drive me to the hospital.” Mark added.

“Guys.” Johnny mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

“She’s slandering you, dude. Let them say it.” Haechan chimed in.

“It’s not slander.” Johnny sighed.

“She is my wife.” Doyoung glared at Haechan.

“I see that we’ve decided to attack me now.” Haechan slinked away.

“I know what I’m doing, Sooyoung.” (Y/N) reassured her friend, a gentle smile on her face.

“Good. Because if he hurts you I’ll kill him, but I’ll also break your bones.” Sooyoung said with a smile.

Doyoung gave Johnny an apologetic look. 

“That could have gone better.” Johnny finally spoke when they left the restaurant.

“She’s just a little protective. Don’t mind her, she’s always been the one who worries about me the most, when I moved for University, I’d spend all my holidays at their house because going back home was too expensive. Her mother is like a mother to me.” She stumbled over her words.

“I want her to like me.” Johnny’s smile was a little sad.

“She will.” She reassures, “She does. Sooyoung’s just being all business to intimidate you.” She scoffed. If Johnny wasn’t convinced, he didn’t push.

“See you in a bit?” He smiled at her instead.

She entered the room she shared with Joohyun to pack her bag. She found Joohyun sitting at the small table across the room, when she saw her she stood up.

“I’ve come to take my stuff.” (Y/N) paused, blushing. “I– , uhh, we’re sharing a room.” She looked to the floor. She didn’t know why it felt so strange to talk about this. Her friends knew her completely, her secrets, embarrassments and her insecurities.

(Y/N) sighed, “Sorry. Talking about these things, about a guy. It’s still very new to me.” She laughed.

Joohyun came up to her, “Are you leaving because you’re mad? I swear Sooyoung didn’t mean to come on so strong. You know her, she knows you’re smart and that you won’t do anything unless you haven’t thought it over. But she thinks you’ll be hurt and go back to avoiding relationships. We all want you to be happy, that’s all.” Joohyun let the torrent of words out.

(Y/N) gave her a smile, feeling very touched, “I know that. I’m not angry at all, that’s not why I’m going. I like him, I really do. I don’t avoid relationships because I’m scared of getting hurt, I just wanted to find someone who I can be in a relationship with.” She hugged Joohyun, “I love you guys, and I’m so glad that I have people who worry about me this much.

“I like him.” Joohyun grinned when they pulled away, “I think you make a good pair. Enjoy your youth, (Y/N).” She squeezed her shoulders making (Y/N) snort.

“Alright, mom. You guys are acting like you’re losing me. Don’t worry, you’ll still be number one for me.” She grinned.

“He makes you happy?” Joohyun questioned. 

(Y/N) thought about that for a moment: Johnny’s effortless attitude, his unapologetic honesty and unabashed intimacy. She thought about his teasing and his affection.

“He does.” There was confidence in (Y/N)’s voice.

“Then you have all of our blessings.”

When (Y/N) walked into the villa, Johnny was sitting in the sitting room, crouched over and deep in some thought. He turned to look up at her, giving her a soft smile and patting the space beside him.

“Should I be worried?” She joked as she put her suitcase to the side and sat down.

“I don’t think it was right to rush you,” He breathed in. “In hindsight.”

She huffed and sat back, “Do you also believe that I’m not capable of making a decision that works for me?” Her back deflated.

“No that isn’t what–” He looked away.

“You asked me. I considered it, and I realised that I like the idea. Asking isn’t rushing. Sooyoung wasn’t there so I can let it go. You were.” She turned to face him.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just been thinking about it.” He groaned, pushing a hand through his hair before stopping to consider a thought. He took a glance at her, “For sometime now, I’ve been very aware of the fact that something’s been missing in my life. I try not to ponder over it because it felt futile. But getting to know you,” A smile tugged at his lips, one he pushed back. “You seem like someone who belongs in the crevices of my life.” He looked down at the couch, “But that isn’t fair to you. You aren’t a clog, you’re a person.”

“Johnny–” Her voice was soft.

 “The idea of what you can be for me is not something I am allowed to impart on you.” He sighed.

“Look at me.” She brushed her fingers on his cheek. He fluttered his eyes up, devastatingly vulnerable in the way he looked at her. “We’ll figure it out. You aren’t wrong for doing anything, we just need to try so we can replace ideas with who we actually are. Hmm?” Her voice was warm.

“I just feel like, I’m giving you something you don’t need. You seem like you’re absolutely fine the way you are.” His smile was sad.

“People shouldn’t need other people. They should want them.” She furrowed her brows, “I think that’s why I like you so much.” Her cheeks dusted pink at the confession. “You’re your own person, and you happened to want someone in your life. Not because you feel empty, but because life can be fuller than it is now.”

“You don’t think that’s unfair?” He questioned, eyes widening.

“No. I think it’s perfect.” She laughed effervescently, taking his hands into hers. “We complete ourselves, another person can only compliment us. A person can be whole in their own right, but life feels better when you have that whole to share with others.”

There was a silence between them for a moment that didn’t press down to stifle. They watched each other, slow and deliberate. 

“I’m a dumbass.” Johnny said suddenly, the words after the long silence making her laugh out loud, “And you’re officially the smartest person I know.”  Johnny came closer, his nose brushing against hers.

“Smarter than you isn’t smartest.” She joked. His jaw fell open, sarcastic shock on his face. She smacked his shoulder, he laughed.

“You know.” His voice was suddenly deeper, eyes darker. “If my inferior brain is recalling correctly.” She giggled at his words, “I think I have an overdue task from last night.” He hummed.

She squinted her eyes, giving him a questioning side eye.

“I said I’d eat you out.” He licked his lips.

Johnny lay on his side, looking up at her. She lay on her stomach, propping her abdomen up on her elbows. Johnny’s fingers brushed up and down her bare back in a slow rhythm she was getting used to.

“I once worked on a policy for two and a half years, only to have it tabled.” She smiled without humour, still bitter at the memory.

Johnny winced, “Okay that’s definitely worse that mine.” He confessed. “My worst experience at work was when I flew to Sydney for an emergency in under an hour of the phone call, only to have the IPO delayed. I didn’t even end up getting the client.” 

She grimaced, both of them laughing.

“Sucks doesn’t it? When you realise that you break yourself repeatedly for things that end up not mattering in the larger scheme of things.” She sighed.

“What you do matters.” Johnny sounded indignant, “You just can’t see it in front of you because the kind of change that has any real consequence is slow.”

She snorted, “You know the majority of the time I do things that are purely performative? So companies can pretend they’re more progressive than they are?” She snorted again, looking away from his eyes to the sheets under her. “It pays better to have no morals apparently.” She scoffed.

“You’re saying that to an investment banker.” He sighed, turning over to face the ceiling. He snaked his hand under her, pressing her flush against his side, “I really started working thinking I’d be different, that I’d help new companies get the genuine backing they deserve. Now everytime I liquidate a failed business, I get one step further from the person I wanted to be.” His eyes drifted to somewhere distant. The air conditioner whirring back to start automatically filling the silence of the room. 

She watched his throat bob, traced the lines of his face with her eyes. “Growing up sucked.” She whispered. Johnny smiled, giving her a distracted nod. “But it’s a part of it. You have to liquidate, cut their losses. It’s the burden of being in the position of making the tough calls.” She tried to comfort him, knowing too well how the disappointment of not living up to your expectations felt. He held her tighter, squeezing the non-existent space between them.

“You too.” He gave her a look, “Just because companies are performative doesn’t make you so.” She gave him a look of genuine gratitude.

A phone call had cut their moment of bliss short. Johnny apologised profusely for some work that was thrust on him. Repeated assurances later, she told him that she’d get some left over work done too. That seemed to reassure him, both of them spending the rest of the day in bed with the sound of laptops clicking in tandem. His presence was as comforting as it was reassuring, it was never easier to be busy in company.

A little after noon, her phone rang.

“Yeah?” She asked Jungwoo.

“Don’t you want to have lunch? I get that you must be busy, but at least store up on some food for the gymnastics you’re no doubt pulling.” She could practically picture him wiggling his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes, “No, we’re busy.” She stated.

“Yes, that’s what I said-” Jungwoo clicked his tongue.

“With work. Office work.” She added the last part to avoid any room for confusion. Jungwoo seemed at a loss for a moment, uncharacteristically silent. A snort left her lips despite herself.

“Is this some kind of very specific foreplay?” He finally managed to say.

“I’m hanging up on you now.” She deadpanned.

“Have fun.” His voice was sing-song to annoy her.

“Who was that?” Johnny looked up from his screen to ask.

“Jungwoo.” She scoffed, “Want to order some lunch?” She asked and he gave her an affirmative nod.

Day 7

Sooyoung looked like she was going to break down into tears. Both Doyoung and (Y/N) juggled between words of reassurances for her and glaring at Johnny.

“(Y/N) was supposed to walk down the aisle with Haechan. You were paired with Seulgi.” She gave Johnny a defeated look. Sooyoung stood at the edge of the balcony of her room, in a hotel robe. The makeup artist was running late and Johnny’s simple request to accompany (Y/N) down the aisle sent the nervous bride off the edge.

“I will walk with Haechan, Sooyoung.” (Y/N) urged her, really not wanting this to be the thing that ruined the morning of her wedding.

“No.” Sooyoung blurted, pausing to tug at the skin around her thumb with her teeth. Seulgi got up from the bed to tug her hand away— something Sooyoung had made her promise to do to save her manicure. “We can do this.” Sooyoung looked up, light filling into her eyes. “You aren’t the best man or maid of honour. It’s fine, it’s completely fine.” She sounded too cheerful. “Taeyong will still walk down with my sister first.” Taeyong gave him a quick nod.

“Sooyoung–” Doyoung’s voice faded, a little concerned.

“Are you sure?” (Y/N) winced.

“Yes.” Sooyoung smiled, before laughing. “It’s my wedding day. Irrespective of who walks with who. I’m walking out with the love of my life.” She laughed again. Doyoung stuttered, looking away as his cheeks flushed red.

“Fine. I’m giving you what you want.” Sooyoung turned to Johnny, who gave her a grateful smile, “Consider it an apology for threatening you yesterday.” Johnny grinned, giving her a nod.

“Now go.” She turned back to Doyoung, “This is bad luck.” She stated.

The next time (Y/N) saw Johnny, she was ready to tell him off for the stunt he pulled in the morning. But, and she absolutely blamed the setting they were in, when she finally saw him she couldn’t bring herself to do anything but give him a shy smile.

It was a perfect afternoon despite it’s hold ups. The tide was higher than anticipated so they had to shift the aisle to a flower garden that overlooked the beach instead of the sand. The blooms of many colours complimenting the blue and white motif Sooyoung had chosen better than the initial beach. 

Soft music played as Johnny walked up to her, giving her his elbow to put her arm into.

“You look beautiful.” Johnny whispered into her ear.

“You too.” She said, making him laugh.

Even as they reached the end of the aisle and went to opposite ends, he kept his eyes on her. They held their gazes until the music changed, announcing the bride’s arrival. (Y/N) looked down the aisle to her best friend, her face lit with abundant happiness and looking more beautiful than a goddess in her wedding dress.

She turned back to glance at Doyoung, a weight lifting off her chest when she saw his eyes rimmed red. She knew Sooyoung deserved no less. The sight was one of hope, of the possibilities of a future, of contentment. When she turned back to Johnny, he was staring at her still. The chairs shuffled as Sooyoung reached the end of the aisle, everybody sat back in place for the ceremony to begin. 

Johnny’s lips spread into a slow smile when their eyes met.

Epilogue

(Y/N) walked into her office on an early fall morning, a month after coming back from the wedding, to find what looked like an arrangement of candy.

“What is this?” She asked her assistant who looked up and then beamed at her.

“You tell me. It’s for you!” She sounded excited.

(Y/N) came closer to the thing, too large and too well arranged. She picked up the card tucked under a box of strawberries covered in chocolates.

‘Because you don’t like flowers, chocolates were the next cheesy thing I could think of. I’m back and I realised on my way to the airport I didn’t take your number. Dinner? - Your maybe boyfriend, Johnny.’

Her lips tugged as she tried not to smile too much. Her assistant’s phone rang, making her turn away rather reluctantly.

“Hello?” She looked up at her boss, pointing the phone at her. “It’s for you.” She walked up to the receiver, taking it from her assistant.

“Hello?” She asked.

A small groan whispered from the other end, “I’ve missed your voice.” She had to grab the desk. “They told me the gift was delivered so I thought I’d call. Your assistant told me you come in after nine.”

She felt a little at loss, “How did you get this number?” She questioned.

“My assistant did actually, very kind of him. He found your organisation and then your office.” He sounded proud. “I had to do something since I didn’t even remember to take your phone number.” He huffed.

“You could have just asked Sooyoung.” She laughed, avoiding her assistant’s face as her eyes lit up. She pointed at the arrangement before pointing at the phone, mouthing something that she assumed was a question. (Y/N) gave her a nod.

Johnny clicked his tongue, “I wanted you to give me your number. Incase you had second thoughts.” He paused, “So?” He questioned.

“So what?”

Johnny sighed, “Dinner, (Y/N). You and me.” He broke down the sentence, she grinned.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. 

It was an early spring night when (Y/N) had gotten home from work. She took off her shoes and dropped her bag to the floor with unfocused motions. As she reached across the sitting room, her phone rang. She had to go all the way back for it.

“Hmm?” She spoke into the device, a little surprised herself by the fatigue in her own voice.

“That bad huh?” Johnny chuckled.

“They tabled it again.” She sighed, trying to level the shake in her voice and blink away the tears that threatened to spill. There was a silence on his end, she heard the echoes of his walking cease. 

Then his steps picked up again, “I just got off work.” He said casually. “I’m coming over to eat whatever you’re going to make.” She laughed at his words.

“I can’t believe you remember that.” She grinned.

“I’m a good listener.” She should practically hear him shrug, “And an excellent boyfriend.” He reminded her, she heard the smile in his voice for real this time.

When (Y/N) answered the door, Johnny gave her a smile. Lifting the box he was carrying.

“You liked the cake from this bakery, so I thought I’d pick one up. It’s cream cheese. I got an almond croissant just in case you didn’t.” He gave her a peck on the lips as he walked into her home. “It smells amazing.” He beamed.

She smiled at him, unsaid words of gratitude on her face that he seemed to understand. He shrugged off his coat, hanging it beside hers and then loosened the tie around his neck.

“It’ll take an hour for it to finish cooking. I’m done with it otherwise.” She announced. 

Johnny took a few steps closer, arm snaking around her waist, “I can think of a few things we can do till then.” His lips brushed her ears.

It was an afternoon in late autumn. Johnny picked up a box of cookies from an aisle, looking it over for a second before putting it into the cart.

“A year I’ve known you, and I still can’t get used to how you will pick up literally anything while shopping.” She poked his ribs. Johnny put his arm around her shoulders, shrugging.

“It looked nice.” He mumbled.

“What if you don’t like it?” She questioned.

“I won’t know unless I try it, will I?” He hummed.

Her huff was a silent yield.

“Do you think I should get the liquid detergent or the powder one?” She questioned, eyes focused on the bottom aisle with the culprits in question in her line of sight.

“What’s the difference?” Johnny sounded confused, standing beside her and following her gaze like it would help answer his question.

“Liquid feels nicer, and is generally easier to use. Powder lasts longer.” She explained.

Johnny hummed thoughtfully, “Liquid sounds like the better bet to me.” He answered like the choice was an obvious one.

She huffed, “You act so spoiled sometimes.” She said incredulously. “I’ll have to get two if I get the liquid because I won’t have the time if I run out of detergent mid-week.” She stomped her foot slightly. An amused smile spread on Johnny’s face. “Two is heavier.”

“It’s just cloth soap. Get two if you have to, I’m going to carry it to your apartment anyway.” He snorted when she gave him an unconvinced frown, “And since it’s obvious to me by now, take the powder since that’s what you would have taken away.”

(Y/N) seemed pleased, turning to pick up the packet of powder detergent.

Johnny huffed, “Brat.”

She placed the bag in the trolley, turning to him with a raised eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

Johnny scoffed, “That doesn’t work on me. Save your intimidating gazes for work and the people who get too close on the subway.” He raised his brow back. 

Her lower lip stuck out as she looked a little flustered on being called out like that. Johnny laughed stepping closer to her.

“Brat.” He reaffirmed.

“Shut up.” She tried to hold back the whine as her cheeks heated up, “I am not!” She nudged him with her elbow.

“Don’t deny it.” He reprimanded, grabbing the string of the hoodie she wore to draw her closer, his hoodie. “You’re cute. But a brat nonetheless.”

“Oh my god.” She groaned with embarrassment. “This is why Mark refuses to go out in public with you anymore, do you know that?.” She pushed him away.

“See?” Johnny chuckled, pointing to her actions as proof of his statement.

She laughed, “Fine!” She sounded exasperated, “I am then. What will you do? Spank me?” She scoffed. She expected him to drop it, instead something shifted in his gaze.

“(Y/N).” His voice dropped lower than her stomach at his voice.

“Yes?” She intended to sound casual, instead her words came out a squeak.

“Would you like me to spank you?” He put a hand on her waist.

Fuck. She thought. The buzz of the lights above them and the occasional voice over the speakers along with the murmur of people made her very aware that they were inside a supermarket.

“Would you like to spank me?” She deflected his statement.

He squeezed the hand on her waist, making her jump slightly. They were in a supermarket on a Saturday afternoon.

“That’s not what I asked.” He snapped softly. She bit her lip at the authority in his voice. “Would you like it?” His eyes burned into hers.

Slowly, she nodded at him. Chewing her lips, she decided that now was a better time than ever to test a suspicion she had for a few months. “I’d love it, I think.” She paused, her heart beating and her cheeks burning with a mix of excitement and mortification. “Daddy.”

She wanted the ground to swallow her. Instead Johnny groaned with such delicious desperation that her stomach flipped.

“You.” He took a slow breath, taking another dangerous look at her. “Are going to pay for that.” The words struggled their way out. “Fuck, (Y/N). I can’t believe you just said that.” He combed his fingers through his hair, the words were somewhere between a growl and a gasp.

“Me neither.” She squeezed her eyes, groaning at her own horror.

“Let’s go home.” He huffed, “I want.” He paused, “I need to go home.” He slipped his hand to hers, holding it and giving it a squeeze.

She almost said yes, her breathing too shallow for her brain to have the adequate oxygen for coherent thoughts. But she sighed, shaking her head like she was trying to shake away the fog.

“You know I don’t have a costco card. I need to finish shopping. Otherwise I’m going to run out of dish soap mid-week” She begged, disappointed at her own conscientious response. To her surprise and Johnny’s credit, he nodded. Taking a step back, Johnny ran a hand through his hair, fixing his denim jacket and then giving her a soft smile like nothing ever happened.

She stared at the aisle out of her reach, the box of tea she was looking for on a shelf beyond her reach. She glanced back to find Johnny looking intently at a label. She scoffed. The only time he was particular about what he purchased was coffee and wine.

She glanced back at the aisle, deciding to risk the attempt at stretching up to get it while he was occupied. She didn’t want to hear the teasing at the moment. She was just out of reach when his arm wrapped around her, lifting up to assist her effort. She looked at him when he placed her back on her feet, bracing herself for the smirk. But his eyes were still glued to whatever coffee he was trying to scrutinise. She frowned.

“Are you seriously thinking of getting grocery store coffee?” She asked him.

He looked up at her with curiosity on his face, “I don’t remember the last time I had some.” The disgusted face she gave him made him laugh. “It says it’s decaf, so I thought i’d get it to try.” Her expression twisted further.

“Please you’re breaking my heart right now. It’s pre ground as well.” She looked affronted. Johnny laughed, putting the bag back where he found it.

“This is why I love you.” He chuckled, walking towards the trolley.

“You what?”

 She wanted to slap herself. He said it so casually, like it wasn’t the first time he had said that; while she felt like every single inch of her was firing up.

Johnny sighed, like he sensed her panic. Coming closer towards her and taking her hand in his. “I don’t expect you to say it back immediately, say when you mean it. When you know you feel it too.” He paused, “Or don’t. Either way, I had to let you know how I feel.” 

She had to kiss him, grocery store with a weekend crowd be damned. It was a reassurance, telling him that if he was already there, she was on the way.

It was late in the night in the middle of winter. It snowed outside while they sat wrapped in a huge blanket in front of Johnny’s fireplace. He kissed the back of her neck, her head tilting to the side for his benefit. Their skin was warm against each other and it was easy to forget that it was the coldest night of the year.

“I have to be in the capital next week.” She said as his lips started their journey down her spine. She shifted, turning to him. “I wouldn’t have gone, but I have a meeting with someone and I think I can get an education bill squeezed in.” She put a hand on her chest.

“Okay.” He gave her a smile, too generous.

“I’m going to miss your birthday.” Her eyes drifted, pained.

Johnny’s smile didn’t falter, his arms tightening around her waist and raising her higher on his lap. “I can fly in for the day. You can take me to that chilli place you claim is the best you’ve had. I still think the place in Chicago is better, but we can wait for you to have that.” He chuckled, before his eyes turned to something more tender, “I don’t care where I am or what we do, I just want to spend it with you.” He stated.

She kissed him with such sudden urgency that he almost fell over, an arm quickly going behind him to keep them both steady. 

She pushed back, a wide grin on her face, “I love you, you know that?”

“Of course.” He hummed, unfazed seemingly by the confession. 

She understood why, there were times when words truly were unnecessary in the face of other things. She kissed him again, arms wrapping around his neck to tug him closer to her.

It was an early summer morning when (Y/N) rolled over in bed. Johnny’s arms pulled her closer wordlessly, a small huff leaving her at the sudden movement.

She rolled back to face him, “I can’t believe it's already Monday.” She sighed, pushing the hair out of his face. Johnny sighed, as the words slowly registered in his sleepy head.

“Don’t go.” His voice was a soft huff.

She chuckled, “I have to go to work.” She brushed her knuckles against his cheek, a small pout forming on her face nonetheless.

“No.” He paused, looking at her carefully for a moment, “I mean don’t go back to your apartment. Move in with me.” He turned over to lie on his side, still looking at her.

“What?” She felt caught off-guard.

“It’s closer to your work. I have that costco card you covet so much.” He grinned. “And you know what a fabric conditioner is.” She snorted at his words, making him grin. “Plus, I have a coffee grinder.” He said like it was a grand prize— and he was right.

His hand went to her face, thumb brushing her upper lip and his grin turning into something softer. “We both know time is a luxury for us. I want to spend each moment I can with you. I want to come home to you and wake up to your face every morning.” His eyes traced over her face.

“Every morning?” She smiled.

Johnny hummed with affirmation, “Every morning. Someday I’m going to bite the bullet and ask you to spend the rest of your life with me.” A lopsided grin formed on his face when her breathing hitched, “But for now. Just move in with me.” He questioned.

She felt a little winded, his confessions always as effortless as his very disposition. But with him she had learned something, love was supposed to be exactly that— effortless.

“Okay.” She nodded, “To the moving in.” She added, “The rest we can discuss at a better time.” Johnny smiled, giving her a nod and pulling her back into his arms.

[elvish-sky]

How Gandalf and Pippin Put Aside Their Differences for the Greater Good {Faramir x Reader}

A.N: OK GUYS- i literally tied my hand to my sister’s to figure out some of the logistics of movement for this. She thinks I’m crazy now. But I loved this request! I’m currently catching up on requests and also dealing with some personal issues, and I haven’t been happy with anything I’ve written in a really long time, but I’m really happy with this! It would mean so much to me if you guys liked it too, I put so much work into this and I’m so proud of it!

also- a thousand thank you’s to @gossip-girl-of-middle-earth for giving me an idea for this fic. i appreciate you letting me use it so so much. thank you.

Requested by @raineeace on Tumblr: Your recent request you wrote was beyond cute! You’re an amazing writer, so catch me reading the rest of your LOTR content !! I also wanted to request something as well! Can you do a Faramir x Fem!Reader and Gandalf and/or Pippin try to get them together? I loved the how you wrote Aragorn as cupid, and I wanted to ask if you could make these two matchmakers as well? Lots of fluff please and I can’t wait to see what you come up with! :)

Word Count: 2,334

Pairing: Faramir x Reader

Summary: You and Faramir have been mooning over each other for months, but nothing has come of Pippin’s efforts to get you together. What happens when Pippin enlists the help of a certain wizard?

Warnings: Fluff, Humor

****

How Gandalf and Pippin Put Aside Their Differences for the Greater Good {Faramir x Reader}

Pippin leaned over the banister, watching you and Faramir walk together below. You smiled at something the man said, then nodding your head goodbye and walking away. The hobbit watched as Faramir stood there, watching you go, looking oddly lonely.

Pippin had been watching/trying to get you and Faramir together for a while now. He had first noticed the chemistry and romantic tension between you when everyone was gathered waiting for Frodo to heal, and decided to do something about it. Now, months later, nothing had happened. Pippin thought that at this point neither of you was ever going to confess your very obvious feelings for the other.

At least, not without some extra help.

“Come on, Gandalf, please?”

The wizard shook his head, “I cannot believe you are still going on about this.”

“They need the help,” Pippin told him, “Plus, getting them to admit their feelings to each other would help them, and ease your exasperation with the two of them for walking in circles around each other!”

The wizard shook his head. “I’m not going to help you with this!”

“It’s for the greater good! Can you really stand to see the two of them mooning over each other all the time?”

“That’s true. It’s getting ridiculous,” Gandalf sighed, “Fine. I’ll help. Where do we start?”

Back in your room, you lifted your head from your desk as a loud, hobbitish whoop rand through the air. You chalked it up to Pippin hitting another elf, probably Legolas, with an apple, and returned to your work. You hoped that it wasn’t Legolas that Pippin had hit, because the last time that happened Legolas had promptly eaten the apple, and Pippin had bemoaned the loss of his snack for weeks.

That night, you left your room, closing the door behind you and setting off down the hallway. You’d barely made it fifteen feet when another door opened right in front of you and Faramir came rushing out, crashing into you.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there, I feel terrible!”

“It’s okay!”

You shuffled your feet, nervous to be so close to the person you’d been in love with for months.

It was also weird how close your rooms were- Aragorn had given everyone from the Fellowship and friends special quarters after his coronation. You could understand why the hobbits’ rooms were so close together, but wondered why Aragorn had placed you and Faramir almost directly across from each other. Probably because the two of you worked together the closest on negotiations with the other kingdoms.

Eventually, Faramir broke the silence with an awkward laugh.

“So, late to dinner?”

You smiled, glad he’d spoken first.

“Yeah. I got so focused on drafting that new trade agreement with the Iron Hills that I didn’t realize how low the sun was.”

He nodded. “I completely understand, I’ve done that far too many times, working on something like that or staying outside the city for far too long.”

Laughing, you looped your arm through his. “We should get to dinner before Aragorn yells at us.”

You entered the hall together, pushing open the doors to see your friends all seated around the high table. Dinners with the group had started when everyone was waiting for Frodo to heal and wake up and had just continued on, everyone reluctant to give up the time spent together.

Letting go of Faramir’s arm, you took your usual seat between him and his brother.

“What prompted you two to arrive together?” Boromir winked at you as he whispered.

“Huh? Oh, we just bumped into each other in the hall.”

“Sure, sure,” he smirked as he spoke.

“Pass the potatoes, please, Boromir.” You were determined to change the subject, and, happily, it seemed to have worked.

What you didn’t notice was Gandalf staring intently at you and Faramir, muttering something under his breath as Pippin watched gleefully.

You yawned, pushing your empty plate away with a groan.

“I’m stuffed. And tired. I think I’ll head to my rooms.”

Everyone said goodbye, and you pushed back your chair and went to stand.

But you couldn’t.

There were handcuffs on, one on your wrist, and the other on Faramir’s. And they hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Who handcuffed us?” You were bewildered.

“Gandalf…” Faramir glared at the wizard.

Gandalf glanced behind himself, and, seeing no one, turned back around with an innocent expression.

“What could I have done to make this happen?” He gestured to your hands, still handcuffed together.

Faramir said, “I don’t know, but it had to have been you!”

“Ask yourself this, Faramir. What motivation could I have possibly had? I think one you probably just ran astray of something else?”

You sucked in a deep breath.

“Okay, then, how do we make it stop?”

“Only time will tell,” the wizard nodded sagely.

“What are we supposed to do until then?” You exclaimed.

“Just stay together? Do everything together?” Pippin looked all too pleased by this.

“Fine. C’mon Faramir.”

The man rose, and together you marched out of the hall, handcuffs clanking, never moving further than five inches apart.

Once in the hallway, you turned to Faramir, panicked.

“What do we do? We’re stuck five inches, or less, apart from each other for Eru knows how long, we both have important duties.”

“And there’s going to the bathroom, and sleeping, and eating..” he was just as freaked out as you.

You turned to each other.

“What are we going to do?!”

“Y/N, Faramir, chill.”

You tried to turn, but the clanking and tug on your wrist stopped you as you spun the wrong way, twisting yourself with Faramir.

“Ok, no wait,” he backed up, accidentally taking you with him.

“Here, go this way, move your hand left.”

“No, no, my left, my left.”

“Spin this way?”

“You go under, I go over?”

“Aha! Yes, that worked!” You high-fived each other clunkily, and turned, making sure to bring your arms over your heads so that your hands fell back again.

“Oh, Pippin! What were you saying?”

Pippin smiled at Faramir. “I can help.”

“Would you mind telling us how?”

“You just have to accept it!”

“WHAT?” You screamed in unison.

Back in the hall, Aragorn winced at the echo of the yell.

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” He questioned the wizard.

“Of course not,” Gandalf replied, “but it was not mine. It was all Pippin, and if anything goes wrong that’s who we’ll blame.”

Legolas chuckled. “Alright then. We’ll leave it all on Pippin.”

Boromir raised a mug of ale. “TO-”

He was cut off by a resounding shush, and, chastened, began again.

“To Y/N and Faramir”

Everyone echoed the sentiment, quietly, and clinked their mugs.

Back in the hallway, you and Faramir were glaring at Pippin.

“You want us to just live like this?”

“Yes! You’ll be fine, maybe it’ll wear off soon, and maybe you’ll learn something.”

“Ughhhhhh,” you stormed away, dragging Faramir behind you.

Approaching your door, you were suddenly stopped when Faramir halted behind you.

“What?”

He shuffled his feet. “Whose room are we staying in?”

You considered. “Which one is bigger? We’ll need all the maneuvering space we can get.”

You walked together over to your doorway, poking your heads inside before moving back to his.

“Yours.”

“Mine?” He asked.

“Yeah. You have more space and a bigger bed. Let’s just go back to my room so that I can grab a few things if I’ll be staying with you indefinitely.”

“How are we going to do this?”

You stared at Faramir’s bed.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

You hadn’t thought this situation could get any more awkward, but there it was. The crown jewel of awkwardness, coming out to torment you. It had been bad enough attempting to change into your nightclothes, which you’d managed by turning your backs to each other to put them on, and only wearing one sleeve. But this was worse.

You decided to just go for it, and climbed into the bed, sliding under the sheets. Your movement pulled the handcuffs so that Faramir went with you, and you ended up on one side of the bed, him on the other, hands cuffed together in the center.

“This is not very comfortable,” Faramir observed.

That was true. You were lying flat on your back when you always slept on your side, and you were literally handcuffed to another person. Unable to stand the absurdity of it all, you broke out into laughter.

Faramir joined in, and you laughed together until you had tears in your eyes. His smile was so bright in the dimly lit room, and you could listen to his laugh for a thousand years without getting sick of it.

When the laughter subsided, you decided nothing could be more uncomfortable than the position your body was currently stuck in.

“Do you usually sleep on your side?”

Faramir nodded, looking a little confused.

“Ok. I’m going to try something, it’s going to be really awkward, but we might actually be able to sleep.”

“I trust you, Y/N. Whatever you’re going to do will be fine.”

You smiled at him, internally still freaking out that you were sharing a bed with Faramir. But there was no time to panic, your shoulder was killing you.

Taking a deep breath, you flipped so that the handcuffed arm was now underneath you, chain stretching up to where Faramir’s arm hovered.

“Would you be alright with putting your arm over my waist?” You wanted to make sure he was comfortable with all this.

Craning your neck, you saw a faint blush creeping up his face in the dusky light.

“Only if it’s ok with you,” he seemed nervous.

You were too, but you nodded and felt him slowly settle his arm around your waist.

Once it was there, his hand gently hanging near your stomach, you both relaxed, letting out sighs as the tension left your bodies simultaneously.

And then you giggled. Again, because this was just too ridiculous.

He laughed too. “You alright?”

You nodded, the movement of your head bumping into his chest as he sucked in a breath.

“I’m good.”

It took a while for each of you to fall asleep, brains spinning with thoughts of the person next to you. But eventually, you did.

It was the best you had slept in years.

The next day, the two of you began to figure out how to go around with your hands stuck together. You ate by spooning the food into each other’s mouths one at a time, which you were pretty sure Boromir was sketching to memorialize forever.

You blinked your eyes open the next day to sunlight streaming through the windows, and soft breathing behind you. Carefully, you turned around so that your hands now rested between your bodies.

Faramir’s face was glowing with the light of the morning sun, hair spread on the pillow. You’d never seen him so peaceful, and he looked gorgeous like some Vala come across the world to Gondor.

Unable to resist the impulse, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

You quickly moved back, only to notice that the weight on your hand was gone.

You looked down.

The handcuffs were gone.

“Faramir! Faramir!” You shook him awake.

“What, Y/N?” He asked groggily.

His morning voice was perfection itself, and you had to bring yourself back to reality.

“The handcuffs are gone. Look!”

He shot up at this, looking down at his now-free hand.

“Wow! We should probably go let Gandalf know.”

You nodded. “Meet you in the hall in ten minutes?”

He gave you a thumbs up, and the last thing you saw as you closed the door was Faramir marveling at his now-free wrist.

Later, in the room that Gandalf had claimed as his office right next to the large hall where you usually ate, you sat together.

The wizard inquired, “What exactly happened?”

“The handcuffs were gone when I woke up,” Faramir told him.

“That shouldn’t have just happened. They were supposed to disappear when a physical manifestation of your affection for each other happened.”

“You did this?” You were outraged.

“Yes, Y/N, I did.”

Sensing that you were about to interrupt in outrage again, he added on.

“It should have been a physical manifestation of affection that was not circumstantial because of the handcuffs.”

You sighed, knowing what it was.

Faramir turned to you. “Do you know what it could have been?”

You stared straight at the floor.

“I… kissed your cheek when I woke up this morning.”

He blinked at you, shocked. Gandalf discreetly slipped out the door.

“You just looked so handsome in the sunlight with your hair glowing and I couldn’t resist and I’m so sorry and I’ll leave Gondor right now and never come back and what you must think of me no-”

“Y/N.”

You stopped rambling, looking at Faramir. He leaned closer to you, and in the depths of his eyes, you saw nothing but love. He paused for a moment, head tilted as if asking for your permission.

You nodded your head.

Faramir moved closer, tilting your chin up so that his lips met yours, kissing you oh-so-gently. Then somehow you were standing, lips still touching his as he surged closer and kissed you harder, like all the passion and feeling in the world was just pouring out of him and into you.

Finally, you broke apart, smiles on both your faces.

“I think I love you.,” you said, then clapped a hand over your mouth.

Faramir smirked. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you too.”

You gazed at each other for a few moments, before you grabbed his hand.

“Now, let’s go kill a wizard.”

Opening the doors to the hallway, you saw said wizard suddenly disappear.

You corrected yourself.

“Let’s go kill that wizard once he returns from wherever he’s hidden himself.”

Faramir laughed. “Let’s kill Gandalf later. For now, would you like to go for a walk?”

You smiled at him, looping your arm through his and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Lead on, my love.”

Everything tag❤️: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit @guardianofrivendell @hey-its-nonny

Fic tag: @eru-vande @annkdarar @lust4crust @the-reformed-ringwraith @ethereal-earendil

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

On Education

An excerpt from Memoirs of a Flesh Eater, never published.

Previous Excerpt

Next Excerpt

I think every parent struggles with the question of when they should teach their children hard truths. At some point, every child needs to learn about death. They need to learn about hatred. They need to learn about the horrors people will inflict on them for being different. This is something that is as true for ghouls as it is for humans. For most people, it is a fact of life that someone will hate you for existing.

Human-on-human prejudice is still something I don’t fully understand. At least humans have a reason to hate us. I don’t know why they go looking for reasons to hate each other too.

Educating ghouls is a challenge. We need to know about ourselves, of course. We need to know about our kind - our needs, our history, our ways of moving through human society - but we need to learn everything that humans learn too. The more we can fit seamlessly into the human world, the safer we are. You probably don’t know this, what with how much the news loves a story about a ghoul living in secret among humans, their murders exposed to the shock of their friends and acquaintances, but those of us who are brought up among humans don’t get found out very often. It’s the feral children, the big city packs that still hunt most of their food, the all-ghoul communes, that are easier targets for the exterminators. Those of us that are fully integrated are much harder to sniff out, unless we seriously fuck up.

{Editing Note: Don’t say fuck. Even though it’s a really good word}

The best way to make sure a ghoul can pass as human is to start us young. Get us into kindergarten, then elementary school, and keep going all the way through college. There’s nothing better than hands-on training. That’s what my mom did for me, mostly. I was raised in human society, in the human public school system, and I’ve never had a true close call. I’ve never caught the eye of an exterminator, and no human has ever asked me pointed questions about my habits or diet.

For the sake of completeness, I should say that I was in the human public school system for everything except for middle school. It’s not like that’s a great loss, though - everything I’ve heard about middle school sounds like hell. I don’t know how any of you survived going through puberty in front of all your peers.

{Editing Note: I am not talking about ghoul puberty unless I can find a reliable human to tell me what their puberty was like. If I wrote about something that I thought was ghoul-specific but is actually normal I’d die on the spot. I’d call a fucking exterminator on myself.}

Conventional schooling might be the best setup for success, but it’s also the most dangerous route. Kids talk, and that’s as true for us as it is for you. It takes a lot of work to make a child understand that there are some things you can never tell anyone, not even your closest friends, not ever. It’s not a fun burden to grow up carrying either. I’ve known the fear of death for literally longer than I can remember. I’ve known that letting myself be truly honest and vulnerable with any of my classmates would bring it to me and my parents before the day was over {Editing Note: True vulnerability is what I need now, though. I should find a place to talk about my dad}. It’s more loneliness than any child should ever grow up with. I was lucky; I found Scarlet in 4th grade. There are plenty of ghoul children that don’t find each other until high school, if there are even any other ghoul children to be found.

Some parents decide that the risk is too great. They’d rather have alive children than well-adjusted children, so they homeschool them {Editing Note: Okay, that’s way too harsh. Don’t be biased}. I did get to experience this approach for those couple of years when I wasn’t in middle school, and it does have some advantages other than safety. When I was in public school, my mom had to find time after school to teach me about our people. In a homeschool setting, ghoul studies could actually be integrated into our curriculum. It wasn’t completely asocial, either - ghoul parents often use their Society connections to find other ghoul children that are homeschooling so we can learn together. I met my second best friend, Scorpio, because we were homeschooled together.

{Editing Note: My friends are going to read this. I need to make it super clear that Scorpio is the second best friend I made chronologically. I’m not ranking my friends in front of the entire world.}

Scorpio’s a good friend, but he’s also a good case study for the drawbacks of homeschooling. He was homeschooled K through 12 and he is definitely the worst of my friends at passing. He has no idea what’s normal for ghouls vs normal for humans, so he compensates by either saying nothing or saying the most obvious, outlandish lies you could imagine when childhood comes up in conversation. In his defense, those lies are usually pretty funny, and he does connect pretty well with the right kind of people. Scorpio’s got a bunch of very specific subjects that he knows a ton about and loves to talk about. He and Scarlet can go on for hours about literary theory.

{Editing Note: That’s too meandering. I’m just trying to explain why some ghouls homeschool and some don’t - I don’t need to put my weird friends on blast.}

There’s another kind of formal schooling for ghouls that’s much, much rarer - the ghoul private school. The only one I even knew of, St. Raymond’s, was shut down last year by exterminators. Normally I’d tell you to take the lurid details you hear on the news with a healthy pinch of salt, and I still would, but that many rich young ghouls, completely cut off from the rest of humanity… it’s hard to predict what becomes normalized in that kind of echo chamber.

Fortunately, my patron knows more people than I do, so I have more to offer you than grim speculation. According to her, these kinds of places always have a very small student body, rarely breaking a hundred. The lesson content is pretty similar to homeschool - fully integrated ghoul curriculum, plus a few specialized lessons on blending into human society. Out of necessity, they’re almost always boarding schools. It’s easier to keep a low profile if you don’t have a bunch of ghoul kids not used to hiding going to and from the campus every day.

Apparently, it’s that kind of logistical challenge that makes these schools so rare. Aside from all the money you need to run a school in the first place, and how careful you need to be to pass scrutiny from the Board of Education, providing discretely for the needs of that many ghouls is an organizational nightmare. I mean, there’s a reason that ghoul families are so small, a reason why even our extended households rarely do more than scrape the double digits. There’s only so much flesh that can be safely obtained in one area at a time. There aren’t a lot of ghouls that have the resources and the inclination to put one of these schools together.

There is, of course, one more ways that ghouls are educated - the school of hard knocks {Editing Note: That’s such a trivializing way to put it. Have some sensitivity, me}. Given how short our average life expectancy is, it’s inevitable that some ghoul children have to fend for themselves from a very young age. I doubt it comes as a surprise that most of them don’t manage to integrate into human society very well. The lucky ones figure out early on how to kill discreetly, how to hide their nature from observers, and how to vary their hunting patterns enough to avoid the attention of the exterminators. The rest either starve quietly or die violently.

Most of these feral ghouls who survive to be teenagers eventually find each other and form packs. From a pure survival standpoint, this is a bad move. A group of feral teenage ghouls have a much harder time covering their tracks than they would as individuals, but for most, the chance at companionship is too tempting. It’s miserable, being alone in the world. Packs offer most of them the best chance to escape loneliness that they’ll ever get. And for most of them, it ends in a shallow grave within a year. Putting down a pack of feral ghouls is a good headline for an exterminator, and it’s a lot less work than trying to ferret out those of us who’ve figured out how to pass. That isn’t how the majority of ghouls die, but it’s how a plurality of us do.

For those few feral ghouls that survive to adulthood, their lives take one of three paths. Sometimes they find a patron and fall in with a household, and they do their best to heal from the trauma of their childhood. They do their best to find a happy life in human society, just like those of us who were luckier. Sometimes they become true Hunters, living their lives on the outskirts of our Society; still embraced by us, if only at an arm’s length. I’ll talk more about them later.

And sometimes, they become the Lost. Not that ghouls from any walk of life are immune to that fate, but… I’ll get to them later too. You may not have heard of them by that name, but I guarantee you’ve heard of the Lost.

{Editing Note: That’s a really grim note to end the chapter on. I should play with the structure a bit and find a more uplifting note to leave this subject on.}

{Editing Note: Or I could ask Kestrel. I’m sure she’d have ideas on how to better write the section on feral ghouls, and she could help me strike a more authentic tone. But… I don’t want to upset her. She doesn’t like to think about it, and I don’t want to hurt her. Is this important enough? Would she think it’s important enough?}

[gusu-emilu]

raven sun (Ch. 2/4)

for @mdzsbingo prompts “rarepair, mission, hostile, paranoia” (cont.)

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning

Summary: Wen Ning becomes possessed by a vengeful spirit. Unfortunately, Jiang Cheng is the closest target.

Rated M, contains nonsexual but dubconny dom/sub elements in later chapters

When A-Yuan and the juniors were in need, Wen Ning had frozen. Had been useless. Had required help instead of offering it.

What if they hadn’t been able to fend for themselves?

He doesn’t want to imagine it.

Read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

Wen Ning’s first thought is that he must be possessed.

Resentful energy churns inside him, responding to something. But he doesn’t know whether it’s the figurine spirit reaching inside his mind, or just his imagination.

All he knows is that Jiang Wanyin is shaking him, that voices are calling, that he needs to protect A-Yuan.

It all presses in on him, crushing him, even as the world spirals into the distance.

He tries to use calming breaths to steady himself, the way Jiejie had taught him to, but it doesn’t ground him the way it used to when he was alive.

Vaguely, he thinks to open a satchel of strong-smelling herbs to shock himself into clarity, but he won’t sense the aroma well enough with his deadened senses…

White fog spreads.

The ground fades away.

Rain.

Lightning flashes. Chenqing sings. Voices scream.

Bones shatter under his fingers—

Something is wrong with the melody.

He plunges his hand through a golden peony.

Stains it red.

Never meant to kill him—

The crimson silk fades, replaced by candles and curtains.

Blood weeps from his palm as he holds back a saber’s blade.

He is a blade, comes Jiejie’s voice.

A very precious blade…

A bell chiming.

Slowly, Wen Ning’s sense of sight returns.

He’s kneeling on the ground, head spinning. He looks up to see Jin Ling, who abruptly stops ringing the clarity bell.

Jin Ling breaks into a grin. “Finally!”

“J-Jin—” Wen Ning stutters out.

“You’re okay!” Lan Jingyi exclaims, his grin even wider than Jin Ling’s.

“We were so scared,” Ouyang Zizhen says.

A lighter set of bells jingle. Something wet slides across Wen Ning’s face, and suddenly half of his vision is obstructed by something gray and fluffy.

“Fairy, stop that! He just woke up!” Jin Ling grabs the dog by the scruff of her neck and tugs her away.

Wen Ning thinks he might be shaking. Someone wraps their hands under his arms and helps him to his feet. They push in on the sides of his arms, squeezing him, providing comforting pressure that helps him center his awareness.

He glances over his shoulder to see who is hugging him, and finds A-Yuan smiling, a hint of concern in his eyes. At the sight of his nephew unharmed, the tension inside Wen Ning relaxes, relief washing over him.

“It’s okay. Everyone’s safe,” A-Yuan says. “We’ve suppressed the spirit.”

Wen Ning nods, not quite able to speak.

“How do you feel?” A-Yuan asks.

“…I…I’m okay…”

Jin Ling crosses his arms. “You better be! Could you have taken any longer to wake up? I was ringing that bell for ages.” But the joy in his eyes belies his sharp words.

“Yeah, please don’t do that again, Wen-qianbei,” Lan Jingyi says. “Jin Ling almost cried.”

“I did not!”

“If it makes you feel any better, I almost cried too,” Ouyang Zizhen says to Jin Ling.

Wen Ning senses his hand clenched around something cold and hard, unable to let go. He stares down at the object as he pries his fingers off one by one, surprised to realize it’s the empty sheath of Jiang Wanyin’s sword.

Dazed, he gives a raspy laugh, somehow finding all of this absurd. “What happened?”

As soon as he asks, anxiety takes root in his stomach again. He’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

What had he done? Had he put anyone in danger?

“I think you…froze,” A-Yuan says. “By the time we finished suppressing the spirit and came over, you’d completely lost consciousness. It took a while to wake you up.”

“That’s all?”

A-Yuan nods.

It doesn’t give Wen Ning much reassurance. Guilt twists inside him, guilt at having frozen when the juniors needed protection.

He raises the silver-violet scabbard in his hand. “How did I get…” Jiang Wanyin’s sword.

A pang of worry grips him.

Where is he?

“You—” A-Yuan starts to say.

He’s cut off by Jiang Wanyin’s stentorian voice. “Doesn’t matter. I’d like it back now that you’ve stopped daydreaming.”

Jiang Wanyin is off to the side and scowling, arms crossed, leaning against a tree to support his injured leg. Jin Ling takes the scabbard from Wen Ning and hurries it over to him. He sheathes the sword in one clean motion, then turns his face away from the group as Jin Ling returns.

A feeling of foreboding sinks in Wen Ning’s chest, but seeing how calm the juniors are, he tries to let go of it. “How did you suppress the spirit? I’m…I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to—”

“Don’t apologize!” Ouyang Zizhen says.

Lan Jingyi nods emphatically. “Yeah, that was one of the coolest night hunts ever, and we did everything ourselves!”

“You mean…Jiang-zonghzu didn’t—”

“No, we handled it all,” A-Yuan explains. “We figured out that we could use our outer robes and an entire wad of Spirit-Replenishing Talismans to trick the spirit into sensing an unshielded body to possess. Once the spirit left the figurine and attempted to possess the decoy, a guqin melody was able to immobilize it.”

Grinning, Lan Jingyi holds up a wriggling Spirit-Trapping Pouch. “It’s in here. It’s very unhappy.”

Wen Ning swells with pride. “Great job! That was a clever strategy.”

“We easily outsmarted that spirit on our own.” Jin Ling lifts his chin. “I don’t know what these three were calling for help for.”

“Oh really?” Jiang Wanyin cuts in. “Then why were you calling the loudest out of anyone? Next time, if you don’t need help, don’t act so desperate for it.”

I was worried about you, Wen Ning hears beneath Jiang Wanyin’s words, and is unsettled to discover he can read him so easily.

“Jiujiu—”

“Be quiet!” Jiang Wanyin snaps.

Jin Ling scoffs and turns away.

Jiang Wanyin sighs, pinching his temples. “I’m glad you’re all safe. But, if you don’t mind the interruption to the Ghost General’s welcome back party, we still have a lot to discuss.”

Frowning, he locks eyes with Wen Ning, his gaze oddly intense. A few uncomfortable moments pass before Wen Ning looks away, which makes him feel like he’s lost some kind of contest.

They all gather around Jiang Wanyin to straighten out the remaining logistics of the night hunt. Namely, how to appease the figurine’s spirit so it’s no longer a threat. As usual, Wen Ning and Jiang Wanyin let the juniors do most of the talking, giving them the freedom to work through the options themselves.

Despite how happy Wen Ning is for the junior’s success in capturing the spirit, shame and guilt creep around him like thorny vines, cutting into him.

When A-Yuan and the juniors were in need, he had frozen. Had been useless. Had required help instead of offering it.

What if they hadn’t been able to fend for themselves?

He doesn’t want to imagine it.

More lingering questions float through his mind—why did he wake up holding Sandu’s sheath, for one thing—but he tries to lay them to rest for now, focusing on the juniors’ conversation.

“We could pay respects to the family that used to live in the farmhouse,” A-Yuan suggests. “Maybe if we ensure that their graves are attended to, it will lessen the spirit’s anger.”

Jin Ling shakes his head. “It’s worth a try, but that won’t solve the actual problem. The figurine gained its resentful spirit by watching the family turn against each other and murder each other.”

“Hm...that’s true,” A-Yuan replies. “A peaceful burial won’t erase the anguish the spirit had witnessed before the family died.”

A few moments of silence pass as the juniors think.

“What if we show the spirit a family that gets along well? Lan Jingyi says.

Jiang Wanyin narrows his eyes at him.

“You mean…” Ouyang Zizhen strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Show it that not all families end in betrayal and carnage? Let it see that there are ways to live in harmony, even when disagreements arise?”

“Yeah, I guess so!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jin Ling says. “What, should we put on a skit for the spirit? Have Wei Wuxian come raise the family’s corpses and force them to act out a reconciliation?”

Something primal inside Wen Ning reacts to the word “force,” causing his shoulders to tense.

“Don’t speak nonsense,” Jiang Wanyin snaps. “This is serious.”

Jin Ling sniffs. “Wei Wuxian probably could help us—”

“I thought you wanted to do this yourself.”

“—just not with a method so stupid,” Jin Ling mutters the rest under his breath.

The juniors continue discussing how to appease the spirit, although their conversation is more subdued. Wen Ning pays careful attention, considering their suggestions quietly to himself. But he can’t keep his mind from wandering.

He also finds himself stealing glances at Jiang Wanyin, wondering what he might be thinking.

Jiang Wanyin always tenses whenever one of the juniors mentions Wei Wuxian. And if Jin Ling mentions Wei Wuxian, his discomfort is even more noticeable.

It’s no secret that Jin Ling spends a lot of time with Wei Wuxian—night hunting with him, hosting him in Jinlintai, visiting him in Cloud Recesses. Wen Ning has heard the stories firsthand from Wei Wuxian, who speaks so much about Jin Ling that Wen Ning can vividly picture moments he hadn’t even been present for: the time Jin Ling shot an arrow across the full length of a Lanling garden, or laughed so hard he snorted hot soymilk out his nose, or got teary-eyed while cooking lotus pork rib soup with Wei Wuxian.

Sometimes he catches the tail end of a conversation between Jin Ling and his uncle, some remark implying that Jin Ling has been trying to get his uncle to talk to Wei Wuxian.

But despite Wei Wuxian’s closeness to Jin Ling, he and Jiang Wanyin are still barely on speaking terms.

But this matter is beyond Wen Ning’s concern. What matters to him most is Wei Wuxian’s happiness, however he chooses to seek it.

Although…Wei Wuxian does have a habit of sabotaging his own happiness.

Wei Wuxian has hinted that he misses his shidi. But Wen Ning doesn’t know whether the man he misses is the Jiang Wanyin of the past or present.

Sometimes he wonders how much he’s responsible for their fallout.

There are times he regrets revealing the truth to Jiang Wanyin.

Regrets allowing the core transfer to happen at all.

He takes a breath and centers himself. He has endured losses of his own. However much he questions himself, however much he wants to undo the past—there is only so much he can control.

Wen Ning’s undeath has been a continual parley with control, a fraught dance of his emotions and resentful energy. He has learned that control is never a simple thing.

He wishes it were.

He tunes back in to the juniors’ conversation and tries to piece together what he’d missed. It seems that the question of how to appease the spirit is still unresolved, and now they are discussing where to keep the spirit.

“We can take it to Cloud Recesses and find a way to appease it there,” A-Yuan says.

“We could.” Ouyang Zizhen shrugs and glances at Jin Ling. “The outskirts of Lanling are closer, though.”

“We are in Yunmeng Jiang territory,” Jiang Wanyin says flatly.

The juniors all look over at him.

“There’s no need to discuss where to house the spirit. I will take it to Lotus Pier for the night.” When a ripple of disappointment runs through the group, he adds, “For safe-keeping. You can still finish your work with it in the morning.” He nods toward the wreckage of the farmhouse, which is still smoking from the explosion. “The ruins reek of resentment. There’s a lot to clean up in the meantime. You should start now.”

After the juniors exchange glances, Lan Jingyi hands the Spirit-Trapping Pouch to Jiang Wanyin before heading back to the wreckage with Ouyang Zizhen.

Jin Ling and A-Yuan hang behind.

“I’m fine,” Wen Ning says to A-Yuan. “I’ll come over in a moment.”

Reluctantly, A-Yuan nods and follows Jingyi.

Jin Ling approaches his uncle, gesturing down at the curse wound on his leg. “Are you able to fly back to Lotus Pier?”

“Of course.”

Wen Ning quietly doubts that. But he walks away slowly to give them space.

“But your leg—”

“I said ‘yes.’”

“Why do you always—"

“Respect your elders!” Jiang Wanyin snaps.

Jin Ling huffs. “Fine! Whatever!”

Wen Ning looks back at them. Jin Ling starts to leave, but Jiang Wanyin puts his hand on his shoulder and stops him. They stay like that for a few moments, Jin Ling staring moodily at the ground, Jiang Wanyin shifting his jaw, his expression conflicted but surprisingly soft.

Wen Ning picks up his pace, heading toward A-Yuan at the wreckage.

“…You did a good job,” Jiang Wanyin says quietly, voice fading as Wen Ning moves farther away. “I could hear everything while you and the others were suppressing the spirit. You’re acting more and more like a leader on these night hunts.”

Jin Ling mumbles something, flustered.

“That is, when you aren’t spouting nonsense and making a fuss. You’re lucky that Lan Sizhui sticks around you. He has a lot more sense than you.”

“Hey!—”

“Now get to work.” Jiang Wanyin’s voice is gruff, but Wen Ning thinks he can hear a smile in it.

His face slightly pink, Jin Ling runs past Wen Ning, with Fairy trotting along behind him.

Wen Ning still doesn’t harbor the friendliest feelings toward Jiang Wanyin. Especially not after their unpleasant conversation about possession earlier.

And yet, sometimes…he doesn’t seem that bad.

But in the end, that isn’t what matters. What matters is that Jiang Wanyin is still injured, and Wen Ning has both medical skills and unanswered questions.

He turns around.

* * *

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, come visit me on AO3!

[puppywritings]

you make it feel like christmas - kim doyoung x gender-neutral reader 

⇢   synopsis: when you entered your job a few years ago, you found your best friend, doyoung. the two of you were partners-in-crime, platonic soulmates. however, during a drunken phone call with doyoung’s mother, she catches the wrong idea and invites you to spend christmas with their family… as doyoung’s partner. ever the mama’s boy, doyoung doesn’t want to disappoint her. and you? you’re counting down the days until you can stop this lovers pretence and slap your best friend upside the head.

⇢   word count: 5.6k ⇢   trigger warnings: alcohol use resulting in minor memory loss, swearing, slight suggestive references. this piece is suitable for all audiences! 

⇢   a/n: this is my piece for @pastelsicheng​ and @dearyongs​‘ a taste of winter collab. quick disclaimer that doyoung’s family in this fic may not represent his real life family situation, however this is a work of fiction and isn’t meant to mirror real life. i don’t know doyoung, nor do i know his mother, and the characters represented in this writing are fictitious versions of them. furthermore, the christmas traditions depicted in this story are mainly based on my own experiences celebrating the holidays in england.

⇢   taglist: @hunjins​ @ahgase55g7​ @mmoondance​ @notnctu​ @orange-nimon-cross​ @yeoshwa​ @infnteen​ @neonun-au​ @luvlala​ @neo-shitty​ @yutacrush​ @ethaeriyeol​ @fairyinaflowercrown​ @in-my-neofeelings​ @dreamieofu​

"All I want for Christmas is youuu, baby!"

Doyoung's voice was almost deafening in your ear, which would've been a problem if you were sober. Your voice, too, merrily drunk and far too loud, belted out the holiday tunes. Your best friend's arm was slung around your shoulder, and yours was around his waist. It was like the blind leading the blind, however; neither of you were keeping your balance very well. The two of you staggered together, navigating the city's streets back to his apartment.

The Christmas party that your office held would have been okay without your favourite coworker - you would've had a good time and enjoyed yourself, sure. But with Doyoung's presence, paired with the copious amounts of alcohol, it had been a riot. Even if you had peaked too early and had to depart by 11pm. 

Doyoung was, undoubtedly, the best part about your job. The workload wasn't overwhelming, nor was it tedious, and the salary was nothing to sneeze at. But, without a shadow of a doubt, the best thing your job had ever provided you with was the opportunity to meet your best friend. Doyoung was your platonic soulmate, and your favourite person.

"Hey," Doyoung slurred, calling out to you suddenly. "Is that your ringtone?"

Squinting, you listened closely. "No, Doie," you hiccupped. "I think that's your ringtone."

"Oh, shit,'' Doyoung mumbled, diving into his coat pocket to retrieve his ringing phone. "My mom! She's facetiming."

Your vision was blurred, but you very vaguely saw Doyoung answer the call, bringing up his mother's image on his phone screen. Though you’d been best friends with Doyoung for a few years, you’d never met her. Doyoung lived and worked alongside you in the city, but his mother lived a while away in the countryside, and so your paths had never crossed.

"Hi Mom," Doyoung waved at her.

"Doyoung? Where are you?"

"I'm walking home, Mom," he responded, beaming at her through his phone.

"You sent me a strange text message," she told him, her voice raised a little more than necessary - Doyoung had mentioned that she was somewhat inept when it came to technology. 

"Huh?" Doyoung looked confused.

"Something about lunch the day after tomorrow," she elaborated. "Doyoung, you aren't coming home for the holidays until next week, right?"

"Ah," Doyoung said, understanding. "That was meant for somebody else, sorry Mom."

"My boy," you heard her tut, and you laughed. "Is someone there with you, Doyoung?"

"Yeah," Doyoung nodded, "Y/N is here."

"Hi, Mrs Kim," you waved, as Doyoung turned the screen towards you. If you weren't so drunk, you would've been nervous about meeting your best friend's mother for the first time. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it) your bloodstream was mainly rum at that point, so you had absolutely no worries nor qualms. 

“Kim Doyoung! Why didn’t you tell me you had a partner?” his mother blurted out.

“Huh?” exclaimed Doyoung, utterly confused.

“Oh Doyoung, you must bring Y/N home for the holidays! I can’t wait to meet them,” she cooed.

“Mom, wait-”

“See you two next week!” she cheerily said her goodbyes before hanging up, disappearing from the screen and leaving the two of you in silence. 

Doyoung looked at you. You looked back at him.

“Did she…” you began, not quite wanting to end your sentence.

Doyoung nodded gravely. “She thinks we’re dating.”

The look on Doyoung’s face - eyes wide, lips in a straight, serious line - it was too much for you. You snorted, gripping his arm as you buckled in laughter. He wasn’t far behind you, bursting into a fit of giggles too. You and Doyoung loved each other, that was indisputable. But it was completely and entirely platonic. The two of you laughed together the rest of the way home.

As you were coming to your senses the next morning, you groaned. Why the hell did you feel so lousy? you wondered, full to the brim with self-pity. Your head pounded, a throbbing ache so strong you were certain somebody was banging pots and pans in your brain. Your throat was so, so dry, and you felt as though you could drink a whole gallon of water and still be thirsty afterwards. And then the memories of the previous night came flooding in.

Ah, you thought, Now it all makes sense.

You sorted through the events of last night, mentally flicking through the filing cabinet of your memories. A filing cabinet that was sorely empty when it came to the night prior. You remembered arriving at the party with Doyoung; you remembered the first few drinks, but following that your memories began to fade. You remembered Doyoung pressing a sloppy kiss to your boss’ cheek - a rather stoic middle-aged man - and you had no doubt that Doyoung would be apologising profusely on Monday morning. You had absolutely no recollection of the walk home, but since you had awoken in Doyoung’s spare bedroom, you supposed the night could have gone worse. At least you made it home safe.

Begrudgingly, you threw back the blankets and lifted yourself out of bed. Doyoung - bless his heart - had left you some painkillers and a glass of water on the bedside table. You consumed both of them gratefully and emerged from the spare room, wincing at the sunlight that met you. As you made your way down the hallway, whistling met your ears. How Doyoung could be so lively after a night of heavy drinking, you had no idea.

“Why the hell do you never get hungover?” you grumbled at him as you entered the kitchen, finding him at the stove.

“Good morning to you, too, sleeping beauty,” he greeted you with a smile.

“Seriously,” you continued as you took a seat at the kitchen island, “I swear I get hungover enough for the both of us.”

“Thank you for taking on that burden,” Doyoung replied sweetly, which you responded to with a spiteful glower. It doesn’t last long, however; Doyoung finishes cooking breakfast, and dishes you up a serving. Sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, baked beans, hash browns, and toast. As much as you playfully bickered with Doyoung, he was an absolute treasure.

“Doie, you’re a gift from the heavens,” you praise him, the sight of the warm, greasy food reviving your soul almost immediately. 

Doyoung took a seat next to you, placing down a plate of his own breakfast. “So,” he began, “How much of last night do you remember?”

“Huh?” you asked, suddenly wondering if you’d forgotten something drastic. “Did we…”

“Oh my god, no,” Doyoung denied quickly.

“Thank fuck,” you sigh in relief. Your best friend was attractive, definitely. But you saw him as more of a sibling than a lover.

Doyoung waited a moment before explaining, and with each second that passed, your suspicions rose. “My mom… She’s invited you to spend the holidays with us.”

“Oh!” you exclaim. That confession was a lot tamer than what you’d expected. “Sure, that sounds great. I was spending the holidays alone this year anyways.”

“There’s a catch.”

You dropped your knife and fork onto your plate. “Doyoung,” you groan, “Why is there always a catch?”

“My mom thinks we’re dating.” Doyoung pointedly avoided your eye contact while he spoke.

“And you corrected her, right?” you asked, fearing the worst. Doyoung’s silence only confirmed your fears. “Right?” 

“She was so happy when she thought I was dating someone! And she’s been on my back about settling down forever,” Doyoung rambled, trying to save himself from your wrath - to no avail.

“Doyoung!”

“Please, Y/N. It’ll only be for a few days,” he pleaded, clasping his hands together and giving you his very best puppy-dog eyes. And you had to admit, they were some top-notch puppy-dog eyes.

You gave a resigned sigh, and Doyoung cheered. “Fine. But only because I really want to try your mom’s cookies.”

“You’re the best friend in the world,” Doyoung complimented you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You whined at him, fighting the urge to bat away his affections; in your hungover state, you were not at all ready for hugs.

“Then make me some more hash browns,” you grumbled. If Doyoung was prepared to put you in this situation, he’d better also be prepared to pay you for it.

“You got it, best friend,” Doyoung beamed at you, getting up to obey your command. “You should pack those Christmas pyjamas you’re wearing, by the way. My mom would love them.” You scowled at him. He immediately backed down, waving away his previous statement. “We can figure out the logistics later.”

“You better make this worth my while, Kim Doyoung.” When he served you your hash browns, you were still scowling.

As the taxi pulled up at Doyoung’s childhood home, you couldn’t help but marvel at it. You raised a hand to the cab’s window, looking out at the idyllic cottage, rooftop covered in snow, decked out in twinkling Christmas lights. The environment had grown increasingly more peaceful as you had travelled out of Seoul and deeper into the countryside, picturesque hills and winding valleys rolling past the train windows. This place felt worlds away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and it was difficult to feel even slightly stressed. Even if the situation your best friend had put you in was less than ideal, this was an absolutely beautiful place to spend the holidays - it looked like it had jumped straight out of a Christmas card.

Despite the beautiful winter wonderland before you, you still weren’t prepared for the cold that hit you when you stepped out of the cab. You busied yourself getting the luggage from the trunk while Doyoung paid the driver.

“Are you ready?” Doyoung asked you, looking into your eyes sincerely.

You sighed. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You gave him a smile, reassuring him. The truth was, you were truly excited to spend the holidays with Doyoung and his mother; you were excited to meet her, to eat her home cooking, to hear stories about Doyoung in his youth. You just had some qualms about the whole fake relationship pretense, and you really didn’t want to let your best friend down.

“Y/N?” Doyoung spoke, taking bags out of your hands.

“Yeah?” you asked, watching wistfully as the taxi drove away.

Doyoung smirked at you. “Just try your best not to fall in love with me for real, okay?”

You rolled your eyes so hard they practically fell out of your head. “You wish.” Just as the cottage door swung open, you reached for Doyoung’s hand, holding it tightly. So began the relationship charade.

“Doyoung, my boy,” his mother beamed, coming out to greet her son. It was hard not to smile upon seeing her - she was clearly over the moon to see you and Doyoung, and her joy was infectious. She was a small woman, but you had gathered from Doyoung’s description that she certainly had a big character. She welcomed her son into an embrace, kissing his cheek. “You don’t visit home enough, Doyoung,” she chided lovingly.

“And you must be Y/N,” she spoke, moving her gaze onto you. She looked at you fondly, and you beamed back at her. “You’re so beautiful,” she praised you.

Your cheeks, already red from the cold, blazed a little brighter. “Thank you, Mrs Kim.”

She wagged a finger at you. “Mrs Kim, you make me sound so aged. Please, call me Mom.” She turned around, welcoming the two of you inside, and you shared a smile with Doyoung. 

The interior of the cottage was every bit as charming as the exterior. Family photos decorated the walls, and warm rugs hugged the floors. You supposed the home would have a cozy feeling all year round, but now, in the festive season, the place was dressed up to the nines. Lavish paper chains were strung up, along with twinkling lights and boughs of holly. Not to mention the Christmas tree; though not huge it was still sizeable, likely the biggest Mrs Kim could fit through the cottage door. It was embellished with golden tinsel and crimson baubles.

“Your home is so beautiful,” you commended. “Did you decorate yourself?”

“All by myself,” Doyoung’s mother confirmed proudly.

“This must’ve been a beautiful place to grow up,” you marvelled, your comment pointed towards Doyoung, who smiled back at you appreciatively.

“Oh, the stories I have about Doyoung growing up,” Mrs Kim said, and you detected a mischievous tone.

“I can’t wait to hear them,” you grinned.

“And see them!” she added. “I have so many photo albums.”

Doyoung groaned, while you and Mrs Kim laughed in the presence of his misery. Yes, you decided. You were going to enjoy this visit very much.

When you settled into bed that night, you were beyond exhausted. Doyoung’s mother had kindly set you up in the spare room, which was delightfully warm and snug. Doyoung’s childhood bedroom contained only a single bed, whereas the spare room had a double bed to accommodate you - the ‘couple.’ Though it had only been a few hours since you’d arrived that afternoon, the gravity of your situation had well and truly sunk in. The performative affection you and Doyoung had been carrying out was alien, equal parts strange and comical.

“I can’t believe the amount of times you called me Honey today,” Doyoung scoffed amusedly, dressed in his blue flannel pyjamas with his dark hair laying flat and fluffy on his forehead. He turned off the big light to leave the room illuminated by the warm glow of the table lamps, before climbing into bed beside you.

“Mock me all you want, Doyoung, but I think I put on a pretty convincing performance,” you return smugly.

“Well, I can’t imagine it’s hard. I’m very easy to love. You on the other hand?” Doyoung faked a weary sigh. “I have my work cut out for me.” You flicked Doyoung on the forehead, snickering when he yelped. 

You yawned, depositing your phone on the bedside table and snuggling down into the blankets. Though you were exhausted, and the cottage was immensely cozy, it always felt a little strange to fall asleep in a new place. You were thankful for the company of your best friend, who always put you at ease.

“I hate sharing a bed with you,” you grumbled your complaint. Despite the comfort he brought you, he wasn’t the easiest person to sleep with. “You starfish. I always wake up with, like, one centimetre of bed space.”

Doyoung dropped his phone, letting it fall onto the blankets. He looked at you, eyebrows raised. “One centimetre?”

“Yeah, one centimetre!” you insisted.

“Well, I always wake up with your cold feet on my legs,” he rebutted.

“Yeah, well-” you sputtered. “It’s not my fault you’re a living hot water bottle!”

“And it’s not my fault you’re always cold. Yet I’m always punished with your horrible cold feet.” You laughed back at him; the normality of your bickering helped to put you at ease.

“Let’s get some rest,” you suggested, yawning again. “I don’t wanna miss your mom’s cookies tomorrow morning - I wanna try them while they’re warm.”

“Mmm, good idea,” Doyoung agreed, eyes wide with the thought of his mother’s cookies.

“Goodnight, butthead,” you teased your friend, turning off the lamp beside you.

“Sleep well, idiot,” he replied fondly. 

Thoughts of warm chocolate-chip cookies were the last things on your mind before you fell asleep, and you were lucky enough to have them drift through your dreams that night.

As you slowly woke up, gradually returning to the land of the conscious, you first became aware of how delightfully warm you were. A light winter sun was shining through the gaps in the curtains, bathing the room in a soft white light. You sighed, hugging your pillow closer to you, but  furrowing your eyebrows in confusion when you found it to be much firmer and less pliant than a pillow.

“Nice to see you’ve finally awakened. You drooled on my pyjamas.” Doyoung’s voice was gentle, and lacked any real annoyance.

“What time is it?” you asked, rolling off the boy.

“Half nine,” he told you, looking at his phone screen. You digested the information as Doyoung got out of bed, stretching his muscles which had stiffened from sleep.

“Now that I’m finally free,” he stared at you pointedly, “I’m gonna take a shower. There’s another bathroom down the hall if you want to wash up.” You nodded, accomplishing your own satisfying stretch in bed.

A while later, fresh and ready for the day, adorned in your favourite comfy sweater, you made your way downstairs, trying to dampen down your high, high hopes for cookies.

“Good morning, Mrs Kim,” you greeted the woman with a smile. A smile that increased tenfold when you saw she was, in fact, in the middle of preparing cookies.

“I already told you to call me Mom, darling,” she chastised gently. “Did you sleep well?”

You gave her a nod, silently thinking about the several times you woke up to Doyoung kicking you through the night. 

“Lovely,” she commented. “I’m making cookies, would you like to help?”

“I’d love to,” you answered honestly. “Your cookies are kind of famous back in Seoul. Doyoung never stops talking about them.”

“That boy and his cookies,” she remarked with affection.

Doyoung’s mother set you off to work making another batch of mixture, as she began her duties with the rolling pin. The two of you worked in a comfortable silence, and you marvelled at how much she put you at ease. She was a warm lady, the kind of mother figure a person is lucky to have.

“Y/N, I want you to tell me everything,” she spoke after a while. “How did you and Doyoung meet?” 

“Ah,” you mumbled, gearing yourself up to talk about your fake-boyfriend. “Well, we work together. I joined the company about two years ago, and Doyoung was the one to show me the ropes.”

“Was it love at first sight?” Mrs Kim asked you sweetly.

You turned away from the cookie dough, choking a little at the mention of romance with Doyoung, as you remembered the first time you met the man. 

You were almost trembling as your new boss showed you around the office; this was your first “grown-up” job and you were the very definition of nervous. You were thankful for your brand-new black blazer which covered the sweat stains that you knew were building. 

“And this,” your boss introduced you, “Is Kim Doyoung. He’ll help you settle in.”

“Hi. Y/N Y/L/N,” you offered Doyoung your hand to shake, which he accepted. 

Doyoung waited for your boss to leave before speaking. “So,” he began with a smirk, “How hard did he try to be ‘relatable’ and ‘down with the kids?’”

You hid your laugh behind a cough. “He’s a little out of touch, huh?”

“A little?” Doyoung raised an eyebrow, laughing alongside you.

“Is it okay to talk about the boss like this? We’re supposed to respect him, right?” you asked your new coworker, a little uncertainly.

“Ah, Y/N, of course we respect him,” Doyoung tutted at you, before adding, “To his face.” 

Doyoung had you in stitches your entire first day. Though he tried not to show it, you hadn’t seen anybody try so hard to help you become comfortable and calm. He had been easing your nerves since day one. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed as you recovered.  “I think it was.” Maybe it wasn’t love at first sight in a romantic sense, but the two of you definitely connected on a personal level right away.

“So romantic,” Doyoung’s mother cooed as she rolled out the dough. “What do you love most about him?”

“Hm.” You paused, taking a moment to think. It was true that you loved a lot of Doyoung’s qualities - he was your best friend after all. He was always supportive, an ever-present shoulder to cry on. He was funny, and kind, and pleasant to be around. You always had fun together. “I love a lot of things about him,” you answered truthfully.

“He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” she agreed with you jovially, to which you smiled and nodded. “Now, I don’t want to rush you,” she continued, “But will you and Doyoung be giving me grandchildren any time soon?”

You choked on your spit, just as Doyoung entered the kitchen, coming to your rescue.

“Speak of the devil,” his mom noted affectionately, as she loaded the full trays into the oven.

“Cookies?” Doyoung’s eyes glinted hopefully. His hair was still damp from the shower, dripping and leaving wet droplets on his plain white t-shirt.

“Yes, in about fifteen minutes,” she confirmed. “You can wait that long, right?”

“Oh,” Doyoung moaned, “I don’t know. I can feel my life escaping from me as we speak.” He collapsed at the kitchen table behind you, falling onto the chair as he pretended to faint. You chuckled at his antics, reaching over to ruffle his still-wet hair adoringly. You caught his mother looking over at the two of you fondly, and you smiled, a little self-conscious. 

It felt more natural than you’d imagined, being cute and cozy with Doyoung in this false relationship. You supposed your friendship was a little more affectionate than you realised. Now that you thought about it, there was a certain tenderness that was common between the two of you - aside from the constant snipping and bickering, that was.

You’d never considered that you could be suited to a life outside the city, but the longer you spent in the charming countryside, the more ideal it felt. On your second morning of your winter break, you and Doyoung had donned your warmest winter gear (hats, scarves, and gloves included) and set out on a walk down the rustic lanes that your best friend had once called home. Though there were no eyes on you, and logically you didn’t have to keep up your fake-dating pretence in these hidden moments, shared only by you and Doyoung, the two of you held hands as you ambled down the snow-covered roads. It was an unspoken act, and one that felt strangely comfortable and oddly natural. You didn’t accredit too much thought to it; best friends could hold hands, if they wished to.

“We’re almost there,” Doyoung told you, after a short time of walking.

You tilted your head in confusion. “Where?” You hadn’t thought you were walking with any specific location in mind - you’d assumed the pair of you were meandering through the countryside with no direction.

“You’ll see,” was all he said, leaving you wondering.

Not long later, Doyoung directed you towards an opening in the shrubbery at the side of the lane, maneuvering himself over a stile before helping you over. The field you found yourself in was empty, the normally green meadow blanketed in completely untouched white. The only thing standing in the field, other than you and Doyoung was an old, rather dilapidated-looking barn. You imagined it once blazed a beautiful scarlet, although the years and the weather had chipped and faded its coat, leaving it a patchy maroon.

“Who does this belong to?” you asked, reclaiming Doyoung’s hand as you approached the barn together.

“I don’t know,” Doyoung countered. “Nobody, I think. It’s been abandoned as long as I can remember.”

“It’s a little creepy,” you commented apprehensively.

“Don’t worry, there aren’t any ghosts,” Doyoung mocked you, although it was devoid of any cruelty.

The door creaked as Doyoung pushed it open, and you didn’t entirely trust it not to fall completely off its hinges. The interior of the barn was a dark contrast to the stark white of the winter wonderland outside, although some sunlight filtered through the gaps in the wooden structure.

“Welcome to my secret clubhouse,” Doyoung introduced you. Your hands fell apart, as Doyoung left your side to venture to the back of the dwelling, finding a rickety swing that hung from the rafters, constructed of two pieces of rope and a plank of wood. He sat on it, swinging lightly and you were surprised to find that it managed to support his weight.

“How many of your romantic conquests have you brought here before me?” you teased, examining his hangout.

“You’re the first.”

The barn wasn’t particularly exciting, but there was a certain buzz to be derived from gaining a little bit of insight to Doyoung’s past. The floors of the building were no longer lined with hay, but dirt and dust, featuring intermittent weeds and plants. A tree had reached its spindly branches inside the structure, intertwining itself with the beams and pillars. You perched yourself atop an old stool that was sitting amid the weeds and rubble.

“Did you put that swing up yourself?” you asked, eyeing its stability.

“Yep,” Doyoung confirmed. “All by myself. I climbed right up into the rafters to fasten it.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt yourself,” you remarked. The barn was a rather significant height, and it can’t have been safe for a young boy to scale the wooden bones of the building, likely aided by the serpentine branches of the oak tree. 

“When I was a kid I thought I was superman,” Doyoung said, and you could see him reminiscing internally. You watched, captivated, as he looked around the tattered old barn which was clearly a sentimental place for him. He was beautiful, your best friend. Eyes that shined, dark as the night; a nose that sloped almost perfectly; pink lips that looked best when smiling. Though the winter was a cold one, your heart was warmed by your love for Doyoung. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, simply existing together without any demand or pressure to make unnecessary conversation.

“We should get back home,” Doyoung spoke after a while, standing and stretching. “My mom is making hotpot for lunch.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you said with enthusiasm. Spending time with your best friend, taking walks through the beautiful countryside, and being fed homemade dishes for every meal. This Christmas holiday may just be the best thing to ever happen to you.

Christmas morning came much more swiftly than you expected. The homely atmosphere of the cottage, the domestic haven where Doyoung spent his youth, felt like a sweet sanctuary that existed outside of the linear flow of time. Early morning walks down dew-covered lanes gave way to plentiful lunches that you savoured, which morphed into homely afternoons that eased into sleepy evenings around the fireplace. It was the sweet retreat you hadn’t realised you’d needed, and you were remarkably upset that you had to return to the city the following day.

“I know it’s not much, but I hope you’ll put this to good use,” you grinned at Mrs Kim as you handed over the Christmas present you’d brought her. She unwrapped the parcel, although the shape didn’t quite leave room for a discreet gift, to reveal a bottle of red wine.

“I’m sure I’ll find some way to use this,” she responded, a teasing twinkle in her eye as you shared a laugh together. 

“Y/N,” Doyoung spoke, handing you a small box wrapped in festive paper. “Here.” He was already wearing the watch you had gifted him with. You peeled back the wrapping, opening the box to find a delicate silver necklace, hanging from it a shining silver jewel. It looked expensive; you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a real diamond.

“Wow,” you gasped, at a complete loss for words.

“Let me put it on you,” Doyoung offered, and you let him. 

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled at him. “Thank you.” He smiled back sincerely.

Doyoung’s mother reached under the Christmas tree, bringing out two identically wrapped packages, square-shaped and squishy. “You kids open your presents together; I made them matching for you.”

You tore into the paper, opening the bundle to reveal a mass of knitted wool, soft and burgundy. You lifted it up to reveal a beautiful, intricate Christmas sweater - and noticed that Doyoung was holding an identical one.

“They’re so beautiful, Mrs Kim,” you complimented her, a little starstruck; though you knew Mrs Kim had handcrafted them, they looked like they were bought from a shop. They were of the most perfect quality, and looked splendidly snug and cozy.

“Yeah, thanks Mom,” Doyoung added, admiring the material. He waited until she looked away, taking a sip of her hot cocoa, before turning to you and muttering “Matching Christmas sweaters?” accompanied by a fake gag. You looked away, finding it almost impossible to stifle the giggle that bubbled up within you. They were beautiful, and you were endlessly grateful for the homemade gift, but Doyoung’s comment had amused you.

Mrs Kim looked at you with a knowing expression, and you couldn’t help but wonder if she’d noticed the exchange.

“Now you know I wasn’t kidding about my mom’s homemade cooking,” Doyoung said as he worked on the mountain of dishes in the sink.

“You really weren’t,” you agreed, stood next to him with a towel to dry the porcelain. You typically weren’t such a big fan of turkey, but something about the way Mrs Kim cooked it meant that it was surprisingly delicious. You had gone back for several helpings of the meal, encouraged by Doyoung’s mother, who seemed to derive pleasure from keeping people well-fed.

“I need a nap,” Doyoung declared, and you shared his experience of full-stomach sleepiness.

The pair of you finished up in the kitchen, and moved to the living room where Doyoung’s mother had relocated.

“Ah!” she stopped you in the doorway, before you could enter. “Look.”

You followed her pointed finger, to the green sprigs hanging in the archway. Mistletoe. Doyoung gave an awkward chuckle.

“Mistletoe for the lovers,” his mother chortled gleefully.

Doyoung captured you in his embrace, and your heart began to beat a little faster - was he really going to kiss you? You closed your eyes as he moved into you, and felt his lips peck your forehead. You smiled, before pulling him in for a kiss on the lips. In the spirit of Christmas. Doyoung’s eyes widened, and you laughed as his mother cheered. You followed her into the living room, making yourself comfortable on the couch that had no right being as cozy as it was. Doyoung’s cheeks were still red when he joined you, taking a seat on the couch alongside you.

The television was on, playing some old Christmas movie you vaguely recognised but had never seen. You brought your legs up onto the couch, snuggling into Doyoung’s side and nestling in further when he wrapped his arm around you. The film was already halfway through, and you were too sleepy to pay attention. It wasn’t long before you began nodding off to sleep, and you knew Doyoung was doing the same. Comfortable and relaxed, you let it happen, easing into a well-deserved nap with your best friend. Just as you fell into the unconscious, you sensed Doyoung’s mother draping a blanket over you both, and you smiled gratefully before letting yourself go.

“Taxi’s here!” Doyoung announced from his point of watch at the front door.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving already,” Doyoung’s mother pouted.

You agreed with a sad smile. “It was wonderful to meet you, Mrs Kim,” you bid her goodbye as Doyoung took your luggage out to the car.

“Beautiful Y/N,” she smiled back at you, taking your hands in her own. “Tell me the truth here.”

You blinked, surprised at her direct request. “Of course.”

“You and Doyoung aren’t really dating, are you?”

“I-”

“It’s okay, my love,” she reassured you. “Don’t worry about it. That Doyoung, he’ll do anything if he thinks it’ll please me.”

“He’s a good boy,” you commented, to which Mrs Kim nodded in agreement. “But how did you know?” You’d thought you’d given a pretty convincing show.

“Nothing gets past me,” she responded, her eyes glinting. “Listen. Doyoung’s partner or not, I can tell that you’re important to him. And for that, you’ll always be a member of this family. You’re always welcome in this home, Y/N.”

You swallowed back tears, touched by her warm words, and by how genuine they were. “Thank you, Mom.”

The older lady pulled you in for a hug, just as Doyoung called out to you, “Y/N, we gotta go.”

“You have my number, right?” Mrs Kim checked, and you nodded. “And keep that cookie recipe safe - three generations old, that is!”

“Of course,” you assured her, retreating to the taxi as Doyoung said his goodbyes to her.

“Come back soon, you two!” 

“We will,” you and Doyoung promised her in unison.

Settled in the back of the taxi, you heaved a sigh. It had been a beautiful holiday period, but part of you was happy to be returning to the security of your own home. And an even bigger part of you was relieved to drop the act of being Doyoung’s partner.

Doyoung looked at you, a tired look in his eyes. “Y/N, I love you so much-”

“But we could never date,” you completed his statement, sensing its direction.

“Never,” agreed Doyoung with a laugh. 

The two of you were much better off as friends. It would be a lie to say you’d never wondered what it would be like if your relationship ever happened to cross that boundary, but you were sated by the lesson you’d learned over the last week. Your relationship was platonic, and was destined to remain that way. That didn’t mean your relationship was any less significant than that of a romantic couple, though. Doyoung was your family. And you were beyond lucky to have found him.

[spockandawe]

Shen Jiu/Tianlang-jun

Or, I came here for the dunking on binghe vibe, lingered for the aesthetic, and then tripped accidentally into an au that’s actually really compelling me hard that I want to figure out more

(yes it’s the 2k thing that hit me out of nowhere, but i wrote that out and it didn’t scratch the itch, so here we are)

(I always use so many words, let’s just have a cut now)

My general premise as, theoretically, an author: This is set in the canonverse timeline, after Luo Binghe merges the demon realm and human realm. Probably not long after, because things are still VERY much in confusion, both societies are still reeling, unrest is rampant, and Luo Binghe is only just just just starting to figure out that no, he still doesn’t feel very fulfilled. Turning two realms upside down gives Zhuzhi-lang an opportunity to finally get his hands on a dew flower seed to grow a body for Tianlang-jun (he is a patient boy). Shen Jiu is still alive, though honestly, I don’t know how much Luo Binghe bothers keeping him conscious anymore, and there’s my stage.

What I arrived here from was thinking about how I characterized Tianlang-jun for my Shen Yuan/Tianlang-jun fic, and how I’m really leaning into his romantic nature and fond, un-pushy approach to relationships. When I thought about writing those two characters dunking on a stallion novel together, I was like ‘oh noooo, he would have been so disappointed in bingge’ (which adds to an already emotionally complicated situation, what with him having a son at all) and then I was like ‘haha, being disappointed in bingge, something for him and shen jiu to bond over’

And then I was like ‘wait, but seriously--’

So, I keep seeing those shipping memes going around where people describe their favorite dynamics, and I probably won’t ever draw one myself, but a shipping vibe I love is a character in a lonely downward spiral being pulled out of the disaster zone and emotionally reattached to the world. That’s what I’m writing in the sy/tlj, honestly. A vibe I love even more, but which is even rarer, is when two characters are in those downward spirals, and latch onto each other in an intense, codependent, unhealthy way.... and somehow manage to salvage something beautiful from the situation.

Anyways, Shen Jiu and Tianlang-jun.

When I was trying to figure out how to ship them, one of the first questions when I’m sussing out an unusual pair without other fanworks is: Why do they care about each other? And the more I thought about them, the more I realized that they’re each really, really strongly in the mold of the other one’s Favorite Person, who they’d since lost. Shen Jiu is a cold, aloof, untouchable, beautiful person. Tianlang-jun is a quieter person, very pleasant, but terrifyingly strong in some ways, and soft and ruthless at unexpected times. But neither one is exactly a replacement goldfish, which is good, because losing their favorite person was pretty traumatic for them in different ways. Shen Jiu plays more mean than Su Xiyan did, and Tianlang-jun is more eccentric and romantic than Yue Qingyuan was.

Logistically, the idea that Tianlang-jun hates his son made it easy for me to bring the two of them together. In this universe especially, Tianlang-jun feels a lot of scorn towards Luo Binghe, but Luo Binghe is still very strong. He doesn’t have much in the way of weaknesses, and I think even super-traumatized, super-bitter Tianlang-jun would turn up his nose at the idea of attacking Luo Binghe through his wives. But stealing away Shen Jiu, that’s a person who Luo Binghe is almost as ““close”” to as he is to the harem, this is a person with pretty significant knowledge of Luo Binghe’s childhood, and it’s a powerful person with a major reason to hold a grudge against Luo Binghe himself. 

(I don’t think Tianlang-jun has much of a plan, necessarily, when he kidnaps Shen Jiu, the same way he didn’t have much of a plan when he was aiming to merge the worlds together. Like, yes, there’s this big goal, but why? and then what? I’m not going to go off on a digression about this, but I think it is very much a shitty, shitty plan, and that Shen Jiu is not going to be stoked once he figures out he was kidnapped from Luo Binghe because *shrug?*)

So what I want. Emotionally. Is where the two of them do kind of latch onto each other in a replacement goldfish sort of way, but where that kind of closeness really pulls them into sync in a way where they end up attached WAY more strongly than they ever intended to begin with. And also, both of them are dealing with some weird dysphoric feelings (one with four new prosthetic limbs, one with a decaying body) and are trying to power through them by using their bodies as a tool they use, not as residences they inhabit. And I think that Shen Jiu in particular is leaning into his time in the Qiu household in a bad way, and using himself as an incentive to try to nudge Tianlang-jun into doing things he wants. Love me some dysfunction like that, especially if people start having Regrets and/or Feelings later.

I think.... part of the reason I cut off my fic where I did was that Shen Jiu getting his tongue back is going to really, really, really start reshaping their dynamic. In the fic, Tianlang-jun is reading things into his deliberately-vague gestures that aren’t necessarily there, or just seeing what entertains him to see, but with a voice? Shen Jiu is a man with opinions, and he’s so, so, so completely out of fucks to give. When they start engaging with each other for real, they have to start recognizing each other as people, and not as proxyfucking substitutes for Su Xiyan and Yue Qingyuan.

Now, why I didn’t write that whole fic from the beginning is because it’s almost gotta be plot-intensive. Luo Binghe is not going to be happy that Shen Jiu is gone, he’s going to be very interested in getting him back, and if he gets his hands on him, it’s going to be... ugly. Shen Jiu is aware of that, and makes Tianlang-jun aware of that, but Luo Binghe is so hilariously overpowered that it’s going to be HARD to keep them both out of Luo Binghe’s hands without just making them quiet hermits in some corner of the world. And they can’t be quiet hermits, because otherwise Tianlang-jun would never have stolen Shen Jiu in the first place :P 

I am still really, really, really tempted to write it, because like, just imagine Luo Binghe coming for Shen Jiu in his dreams, and all that trauma crashing back into him, and Luo Binghe digging into every old emotional wound, and Shen Jiu trying to cope. And if dream abilities run in the blood, then Tianlang-jun isn’t completely useless either, and I do very much like the idea that protagonist or not, Tianlang-jun is capable of going toe to toe with his son. The picture of them fighting a battle across Shen Jiu’s dreamscape is just... *chef kiss*

(especially because if luo binghe gets into shen jiu’s head, he’ll totally use yue qingyuan against him, and if tianlang-jun gets involved, he’ll use su xiyan against luo binghe, and luo binghe will probably try to use her against him, and shen jiu is perfectly happy to try to make binghe hurt over how binghe’s dad chose him instead of binghe, and it will be so, so ugly all around)

The trouble with this would be knowing where it was heading :P The quiet hermit ending wouldn’t be a bad fit for what I want for the characters at all, but it would be hard to achieve with Luo Binghe still alive, and I still don’t know if I want him dead, or how I would even make that happen. 

But what I do want, even if it only takes shape in one-shots of scattered scenes, is two exhausted, traumatized characters curling up into each other, without any emotions, no emotions involved, definitely not, and accidentally getting super entangled in each other’s hearts. The kind of relationship with a lot of intensity and need and passion, and virtually no healthy coping mechanisms to be seen. I want ‘Separation Anxiety: The Musical.’ I want Shen Jiu with angry clinging, and extra anger if anyone mentions the clinging. I want Tianlang-jun deflecting and deflecting away from his past and his emotions. And part of the reason I’m not sure if I want Binghe dead, is that I want to see if I can get them to a point where one or both of them has a choice between hurting Binghe or helping their partner, and they choose their partner instead.

[kar-krashew]

life could be a dream [AO3]

Alec navigates first dates, second dates, and general panic, while accidentally making a friend along the way. He's not sure how to feel about any of that, but it seems to be going okay.

Rated T for language and implied sexual content.

@arsenic-creator for you, my lovely ❤ This is an interlude, of sorts, between the Cars AU and the planned Cars 2 AU :D

Alec is ninety percent sure whoever came up with the concept of first dates was a sadist; who else would devise a concept so nerve-wracking and excruciating? Currently, he’s in a random hotel in Spiral Springs, aptly named as he’s spent the last hour spiraling into insanity as he tries to figure out what normal people wear on first dates with people like Magnus Bane. He can’t even call Izzy, because she’s off on some “important work trip” with Jace. (That basically means that they’re going to be mysterious and vague during phone calls the whole time— and that’s only if they answer. He knows better than to ask.)

Thus, Alec has two options: suffer, and show up to his first date with Magnus in his normal shitty worn-out jeans and shirt, or suffer more, and ask someone in town for help. Unfortunately, the only other people available to him are Raphael (Alec is pretty sure he’d be found dead the next morning if he asked Raphael about dating advice), Ragnor (the man dresses like a reclusive British hermit, Alec really doesn’t think asking him will help), and Simon.

Shit.

“Do I really need someone else’s help?” Alec asks his own reflection in the mirror, “I look fine, right? And it’s not like Simon’s got a better idea of how these dates work.”

He looks great, honestly! Probably. He’s fine, as long as he ignores the suspicious fraying of his collar and the faded white patches on his jeans, and okay, he lied, he does not look fine.

Also, Simon’s had like three pretty steady girlfriends already. The kid must be doing something right.

“Shit,” Alec groans again— out loud this time, for intended effect— before taking a deep breath and grabbing his phone.

Fine. If it takes talking to Simon, he’s going to talk to Simon. Besides, how bad could it be?

---

Really bad. Like, really fucking bad; Alec had forgotten how annoying Simon is, and he’s regretting this decision wholeheartedly now.

“No one’s really asked me for dating advice before, you know,” Simon says from where he’s rummaging through Alec’s suitcase, “And of the people I would expect to ask me, you’re, like, last on that list. Not in a bad way or anything, it’s just weird, you know?”

Alec does know. This is the third time Simon has said this.

“Sure, totally,” he grits out, watching Simon carelessly toss his neatly folded clothing onto the hotel bed. Alec is going to have to reorganize the whole case after this is over, because these sorts of things have systems and the kid is ruining it. This was definitely more trouble than it’s worth.

“Yep. Anyway, wow, I’m no expert, but you really don’t have a lot of options in here.” Simon whistles, pauses for a minute, then upends the entire suitcase onto the mattress before Alec can intercept. God, Alec’s going to strangle him. “That’s better! So, you seem to only have, like, one decent button-down, and those always look nice. Maybe pair it with a tighter pair of jeans? Your jacket would look nice with this, too, though I’d leave it out in this weather.” Simon tosses the articles of clothing towards Alec as he speaks, hitting Alec squarely in the face, but he’s already been distracted by something else before he can register the glare being sent his way.

“Okay,” he says after another moment, “Show me what you got.”

Alec’s skeptical, to be frank, but he decides to indulge Simon anyway, so he heads to the bathroom and tries on the outfit and—

Oh.

Simon’s really not bad at this thing. Izzy probably could’ve picked something a little more flattering, but this is way better than whatever Alec was wearing earlier; he didn’t even know he’d remembered to bring this shirt when he’d packed his bags.

“Hey, man, you look great!” Simon beams. “I wasn’t totally sure that would work out, but you look awesome! Magnus is going to love it.”

“Thanks, Lewis,” Alec replies, and he’s surprised to realize he means it. Simon’s grin stretches out wider, somehow, and Alec doesn’t even feel that annoyed.

(Oh no, does this mean he tolerates Simon now?)

“It’s gonna go great, Alec, don’t worry about it,” Simon responds, oblivious to Alec’s internal turmoil— Alec is seriously having a breakdown over the fact that Simon has somehow made it onto the short list of people Alec doesn’t want to punch on sight, because what the fuck does that say about Alec’s standards? His reputation is on the line. “Magnus has lived here for a while, which means I know him well enough to tell you that you make him really happy.” Alec stares at him blankly.

“I— That means a lot, actually,” he manages, then they both just kind of. . . stand there for a minute. Alec isn’t sure how to process the fact that they seem to be having a moment when he was preparing to initiate anti-Lewis measures just seconds ago, so it’s almost a relief when Simon ruins it with the next thing that comes out of his mouth.

“I feel like a proud mother sending her kid to prom. Do I need to give you a sex talk? No one actually gave me that speech when I was younger, but I did improv in highschool, so I could probably work something out.”

Scratch whatever he said earlier; Alec hates him.

---

The trauma Simon inflicts on him is almost completely worth it when Alec sees the way Magnus checks him out for a moment. The other’s standing outside the entrance to some obscure Chinese restaurant, smiling warmly and turning Alec’s knees to jello with his low-cut blue tunic and shimmery eyeliner (not helped by the fact that he has managed to find pants that are even tighter than his usual leather ones— Alec’s going to die of a heart attack before they can even enter the establishment).

“Hey,” he says, trying not to look stupidly overwhelmed at Magnus’s answering smile, “You, uh, you look amazing.”

“I could say the same, Alexander. This shirt is definitely doing you favors,” Magnus replies, and Alec blushes.

“Would it be completely unattractive if I admitted Simon picked it out for me?” he asks, half-serious, but Magnus just laughs, taking Alec’s hand in his own.

“Of course not. Remind me to thank him next time we meet.”

The rest of the night goes by in a blur: Alec’s sure that the restaurant and everything was amazing, but it’s hard to notice things like ambiance and food when one has a front row seat to the wonder that is the gentle tilt of Magnus’s mouth. He spends the night being regaled with far-fetched anecdotes in between shameless bouts of flirting and giggling, and it’s nice, it’s really nice; alone, away from cameras and parents, just the two of them tucked away in a cozy little corner booth together.

It’s kind of the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.

Maybe first dates, Alec thinks, lying in bed later that night, the taste of lip gloss still faint on his tongue, aren’t too bad after all.

---

“Oh my gosh, are you going on dates and making friends? I’m so proud, my baby brother is all grown up,” Izzy sniffs over the phone, “Do we need to talk about safe sex?”

“Why is that the conclusion everyone draws? Do I look that repressed?” Alec groans, thinking back to Simon’s earlier pursuit to educate him on the carnal pleasures of the world. He’d managed to cut the kid off after the first use of the word “penetrative,” but it had been enough to fuel his nightmares for a solid two days afterwards. “Also, I’m older than you.”

“Details,” Izzy dismisses. “Speaking of which, spill! How was it? I still can’t believe you ran off to Spiral Springs without telling anyone. Mom must be absolutely livid, I just wish I was there to see it.”

Alec rolls his eyes, even though she can’t see it over the phone— the sentiment is there, and that’s what matters. “You would be here to see it if you weren’t off doing lord-knows-what in god-knows-where every other week with Jace,” he replies.

“Import-export business, Alec,” Izzy says, “I’ve told you this.”

“Right, the same way you’ve told me you can cook without poisoning everyone. We both know it’s a load of bullshit.”

“We’re getting off topic!” his sister exclaims, which is Izzy-speak for “We’re not talking about this for another year or so,” as she artfully changes the subject. “I believe I asked for specifics about your date with Magnus, hermano. You are not getting out of this.”

Luckily for her, Alec is easily distracted by even the vaguest thought or mention of Magnus, because he’s a total fucking sap and Izzy knows exactly how to use it to her advantage. He would say he hates her, but, well: he’s thinking about Magnus now. That’s infinitely more important, obviously.

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he sighs. The exhale’s got this kind of pathetically lovesick quality to it, but he barrels on, praying Izzy won’t comment on it. “We ate, then he walked me back to the hotel and kissed me at the door before he left. It was amazing. God, Izzy, I like him so much.”

In a perfect, normal world, this would be an opportune time for Izzy to realize that Alec is kind of horribly vulnerable and honest when it comes to Magnus, and for her to be gentle and supportive about it. However, because normalcy is a pipe dream that Alec’s siblings are hellbent on crushing, he is treated instead to an inhumanly high-pitched squeal, followed by frantic shuffling before a voice that sounds suspiciously like Jace’s floods the phone speaker. Given that the most-definitely-Jace-voice is currently yelling something about condoms and endowment and the logistics of same-sex intercourse, Alec decides that hanging up is the appropriate course of action here.

(God, they’re the worst. He’s never going to talk to them again. Or at least, he’s not going to pick up their calls for the next week. Okay, maybe, like 3 days. Probably.)

Great, he thinks, mentally patting himself on the back. Now that that’s settled, he can get back to other matters, like fucking losing his mind because he had totally forgotten to ask Izzy how to plan a second date so he’s now screwed but he’s definitely not calling her back especially now that he knows Jace has her phone and that means he’s been left to his own resources to plan the perfect second date for Magnus and he’s going to have to do it all by himself and he’s going to fail spectacularly because he’s never had to do anything like this before and no one can help him unless—

Unless. . .

“Shit,” Alec says— out loud, for intended effect again, as a horrible flash of deja vu strikes him— which is how, minutes later, Simon ends up sprawled out on the hotel bed next to him at 4 pm on a Wednesday afternoon.

Alec should really start looking into better coping mechanisms before this becomes a problem.

“Okay, so the first thing about this is that you’re approaching it all wrong,” Simon says, sitting up to peer at Alec over his glasses. “Dates are about spending time together, not about being perfect, so don’t stress! What did you initially have in mind?”

That’s the issue: Alec didn’t have anything in mind, because when he had said that he’d organize the next date, he wasn’t exactly operating on full brain function. Impaired thought processes tend to be a common side effect around Magnus, now that Alec thinks about it— he should probably get that checked.

“I really have no clue,” Alec groans. “There’s so much that could go wrong! What if I take him somewhere that reminds him of his ex? Or I stumble and spill slushie all over his shoes and they’re brand new designer ones and he ends things with me on the spot? Or he hates the food there and realizes that my tastes are shit and he decides to cut his losses instead of being forced to eat shitty food everyday that he hangs out with me? Or—”

“Alec, jeez!” Simon interrupts. “Man, you’re kind of a mess about this, huh?”

Okay, rude. Just because it’s true, doesn’t mean it needs to be pointed out. Alec just groans louder, and lets his head fall heavily against the headboard. “I’m so fucked.”

Simon shakes his head, standing up to pose solemnly. “Don’t lose hope yet, young padawan! Come on, you gotta have something. What do you know he likes?” he says, and because Alec is a sucker when it comes to talking about Magnus (as established earlier), the tactic totally works.

“Okay, well,” he starts, “I know he likes expensive wines with names I can’t pronounce. He likes late nights and old classical music, but his ringtone changes every week to a different Britney Spears pop song. He’s kind of a horrible romantic, but I really like that about him. I. . . like a lot of things about him.”

Simon blinks for a moment, and Alec hurries to wipe the besotted smile that’s inevitably found its way onto his mouth. It’s too late, though— Simon’s already grinning back at him, looking too excited for his own good. “That’s so cheesy,” he coos, “But in, like, totally a good way, I promise.” He pats Alec’s shoulder, once, then stands up. “I think I have an idea of what would work. Any ideas in terms of the venue?”

“Oh,” Alec says after a moment. He’s still thinking about Magnus, which means he’s thinking about their previous meetings, which means he’s thinking about—

“Yeah,” he replies, “I have the perfect place in mind.”

---

“So, where are we headed?” Magnus asks. He’s beautiful like this, in the light of the passing streetlights, silver chains glinting like stars, silk tunic flowing like water, hair mussed from the wind. If Alec didn’t have a plan for this evening, he’d probably do something very dumb like slamming the breaks on the car and kissing him senseless. It’s not the first time he’s had the thought, not by a long shot.

Maybe he can fit that part later into the evening.

“You’ll see,” Alec replies, beaming a little at the pout it brings on Magnus’s— stupidly kissable— mouth. “It’s meant to be a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises,” Magnus frowns, but he still leans forward as they pass by a familiar waterfall. Alec can see the moment he processes what that waterfall means, his face lighting up completely as he does so. “Are we going to the Dumont?”

Alec shrugs, trying to be mysterious, but he’s grinning too wide for it to mean anything but a yes. It’s fine; if ruining the surprise means that he gets to see Magnus’s bright smile an extra few moments earlier than planned, it’s totally worth it.

When they finally pull up next to the old sign, Magnus has already noticed the changes to the hotel. “Oh,” he gasps, stepping out of the car, “Alexander.”

Lights are strung up around the outdoor courtyard, with a singular table in the center, a candle and plates arranged across its surface. Simon’s standing there, dressed in a black dress shirt, grinning at the two of them as music plays softly from some unknown corner. It’s horribly cheesy and romantic, and, judging by the way Magnus is excitedly clutching Alec’s hand as they approach the table, it’s worked like a charm.

Alec could marry Simon after this; the kid’s a fucking genius.

“Good evening, sirs!” Simon grins, “Welcome to the Hotel Dumont. We’re so glad you could join us this evening.” He bows, pulling out a chair from behind him, and Magnus laughs delightedly.

“This is absolutely lovely!” he exclaims, settling down. “Did you come up with all this?”

Alec blushes, sitting down right beside him. “Well, Simon did most of the work,” he replies, and Simon shakes his head.

“He’s totally lying; he did, like, all of the decorations and set up, and most of the plan, too. I’m just glad to be of help, man.” He hands them menus, then steps back. “Alright, I’ll leave you two alone for a moment while you decide. Don’t do anything too scandalous!”

Alec rolls his eyes— because really, what could they get up to sitting like this?— but then Magnus places his hand on Alec’s thigh as he leans closer and okay, maybe there’s a lot they could get up to, and maybe Alec is now thinking about all those things in a setting he really should not be, and maybe he should’ve let Izzy give him that talk after all.

“Alexander,” Magnus smiles, leaning closer still, “All of this is amazing, I don’t know how to thank you enough.” He tilts his face up invitingly, and Alec’s helpless to the pull of it, pressing his lips against the other’s. It’s supposed to be just a light brush, but then Magnus shifts nearer and opens his mouth up a little further and fuck, Alec’s libido is suddenly making a desparate appearance in this very public locale. That’s an issue, probably. Whatever. He can’t really bring himself to care right now.

“Mm,” he hums between kisses, “we should really decide on what to eat— hm, before Simon comes back,” but then he chases after Magnus’s mouth right after saying it, so that undermines the message a little. Though no one can really say it’s his fault: kissing Magnus is temptation incarnate, and Alec is a weak, weak man.

They do, eventually, unfortunately, break apart, which is exactly when Simon finally shows up with some expensive drink that he’d sworn Magnus would like. It seems to fill the has-an-impossible-to-pronounce-name quota that Alec had mentioned earlier, so he’s rolling with it. He’s also rolling with the menu, because Alec had planned on pre-planned meals for this thing, so he has no clue where Simon had managed to get proper menus with a selection of food (though the Spanish-themed cuisine on the menu and the passive-aggressive text he receives the next day from Raphael might be able to explain that).

Simon’s left them and they’re finally finished with their courses when some even sappier song starts playing on the speakers, and Alec, being a total dork, stands up and invites Magnus to dance with him. Alec’s kind of shit at dancing, so he’s not sure why he does that, but they end up pressed against each other, swaying slowly, and he can’t even regret it, not even when Magnus laughs at him for stepping on his toes.

It’s perfect. Alec has no clue how he’s going to live up to this on future dates. He’s also, like, halfway to proposing on the spot.

“I reiterate my statement from earlier: this is absolutely lovely, Alexander,” Magnus murmurs after a while. His head’s pressed against Alec’s shoulder, so the words brush Alec’s ear softly as he speaks. “I have quite a bit of planning to do for our next date if this is the standard we’re setting already,” he teases.

“We could eat takeout on my couch while watching some boring regency-era movie and I’d still love it,” Alec replies bashfully, “I got a little nervous this time and went really big, but I promise you don’t have to go this hard to impress me.”

“And you thought you did?” Magnus asks. He pulls away slightly, looking Alec in the eyes. “Darling, the same goes for me. This is stunning, but I genuinely just like you and your company, and that takeout thing sounds more than enjoyable. Though we might have to revisit your opinion on regency-era movies.”

Alec grins. “Why, Mr. Bane, don’t tell me you enjoy watching such long-winded pieces of media, filled to the brim with such stuffy, superfluous dialogue?”

Magnus gasps, seemingly affronted. “How dare you!” he exclaims, “It’s about the drama, the yearning! I’m sure you just haven’t seen the right ones. Next time, I’m making you watch my entire collection.” Alec laughs in response, and it seems to soften something in Magnus’s eyes, because he pulls close again, tilting their foreheads together.

“You know, Mr. Lightwood,” he murmurs, “I’m not the sort of gentleman to invite someone into my home on only our second evening together, but I’m sure I could make an exception for someone of your stature, especially given the amount of time we’ve spent together outside of these official meetings.”

Oh fuck, this is really happening. “How scandalous, Mr. Bane,” Alec somehow manages, then Magnus is giggling and kissing him, and yeah, Alec is so on board with this plan. He’s even more on board with the plan when Magnus leads him to the car, and then leads him up the stairs to his loft.

He’s not even annoyed when he wakes up to Simon’s strangely supportive “Congrats on the sex!” text, because there’s a man lying against his chest who he thinks he could easily fall in love with, and literally nothing else matters right now. It’s him and Magnus against the world: everything else can wait.

(Alec replies to Simon with a single middle finger emoji. He likes the kid, but Simon doesn’t need to know that.)

(The Star Wars movie marathon the two of them end up doing a week later kind of gives it away anyway.)

[jingabitch]

Plugged Up

SUMMARY: Tae and Jimin return from the army, and you fulfill a promise made to Tae.

RATING: E

A/N: went on hiatus but almost immediately wrote this LOL. it got finished a lot earlier than I expected because my wifi went out for a couple of hours yesterday and I had nothing better to do.

Big thank you to my betas @knjkitten​ @astrobabezblog​ @xoxrinaxox (tumblr wont let me tag) for looking through this for me!

WARNINGS: implicit yandere (the verse is yandere, but this is a pwp so it’s not too apparent here) | smut | reunion sex | breeding kink | sloppy seconds | threesome (ig?)

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

series index

For Taehyung, the two years spent in the military were akin to hell. He was away from his brothers, his dog, his family and most of all, you. You were the sweet and soothing presence in his life who’d made being in the spotlight so much more bearable. It was less annoying and painful being in the spotlight, having to answer silly interview questions about his ideal type and his favourite line in every comeback single when he knew he could come home to you.

There was also the matter of the promise you’d given him right before all of them had left for the military. He thought about it in every spare moment he had, every night before going to bed, all the times that he spent sitting in the parade square with his company waiting for something or other, every time you’d come to visit, or he’d had a weekend off to come home and visit you. After all this time and energy spent thinking about it, the anticipation was killing him.

By some strange twist of fate, he and Jimin are being discharged on the same day and coming straight home to you. The logistics of having you at their discharge ceremonies, especially with all the cameras and people, were too difficult, so you’re at home waiting. His family came to pick him up and take him back to Seoul, and he feels bad, but he’s never been so uninterested in spending time with them in his life.

When they finally drop him off at the dorms, he’s just about vibrating out of his skin in excitement, something his family chalks up to seeing the boys again, after all this time. And they’re right, kind of. It’s not even the half of it. He doesn’t let them come into the dorms, spouting some bullshit about how it’s late and he’ll be fine, that they should just get home safely.

He bursts out of the lift onto his floor in excitement, his giant army pack no deterrent for him as he makes a beeline for the dorm. You’re right on the other side of the front door, he knows, and the second that it takes the electronic lock to recognize his thumbprint feels like an age. When he finally hears the jingle that means the door is unlocked, he pushes it open so forcefully that it bangs against the wall. Jumping at the noise, he feels a bit like a fool until he catches sight of you, standing in the hallway staring at him with wide eyes.

It’s not like you hadn’t seen him for the entire time he’d been away, but it had been a couple of months since his last day off, and you’ve missed him so much. You want to take in how good he looks in his army uniform from a distance, but more than that, you need to hug him now, and you take off, sprinting towards him at full speed.

With instincts honed by years of being with you, he takes a step into the apartment, drops his backpack carelessly on the ground and opens his arms to catch you. When you’re close enough, you take a running leap and wrap your arms and legs around him, pressing your lips onto his urgently. Taehyung doesn’t miss a beat as he wraps his arms around you securely, kissing you back with all the pent-up desire and love that he’d been holding on to. He doesn’t bother taking off his shoes as he kicks the door shut blindly then slams you against the wall, the feel of your tongue sliding against his, making his belly tighten.

“That was quite an entrance.” Jimin comments from behind you, standing on the edge of the genkan, his toes curling over the step. Taehyung turns to regard his friend, letting up on you so that you can put your feet back on the ground. You smile as you watch the two friends’ reunion, Taehyung closing the gap between them to hug Jimin. He’s so much taller that even though he’s standing in the genkan, they’re about the same height, and it’s adorable.

Taehyung and Jimin hadn’t seen each other in over a year, because for some reason their breaks never coincided with each other, so you don’t take it personally that they seem more excited to see each other than either of them had been to see you. After a long hug they finally separate; still smiling at each other sappily and you skip over, taking their hands in yours.

Jimin cocks a brow at you, smirking as he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “This one here’s been excited for you to get back.” he tells Taehyung, who grins at you rakishly in response. It appears that he hadn’t been the only one excited for your reunion.

You whine in embarrassment and step out of the genkan, burying your face in Jimin’s shoulder. "You said we couldn’t start until Tae got back!” you protest, voice half-muffled.

“Start what?” Taehyung asks interestedly, although it’s obvious he knows the answer already. It’s written all over Jimin’s ruffled hair and the pretty flush on your cheeks and going down your neck, disappearing into the neckline of the babydoll that’s barely staying on your body. One of the straps hangs off your shoulder, causing the neckline to droop dangerously.

The clear intent to which Taehyung stares at your breasts almost spilling out of the babydoll soothes your ruffled feathers somewhat. You know he’s been thinking about this – the dirty texts and calls had been increasing in both frequency and intensity as his discharge date inched closer.

About six months ago, you’d gone to have your IUD removed, and Taehyung had, of course, been the most excited of your boys about it, fussing over you as much as he could from the military base where he was stationed. He had sent his assistant over with samgye-tang, even though you were completely fine and could order your own food if you needed it. It had still been nice though, and you always felt loved and cared for by Taehyung, even when he couldn’t be with you in person.

Since then, however, the knowledge of what he was going to do once he got back from his military service has been there in the background in every single one of your interactions. Taehyung, like all the other boys, knows about your cycle in intimate detail and pulled strings to make sure that he would get back from the military just in time to catch your ovulation window. Initially his discharge date was two weeks later, however; you would be on your period, and that was just… wholly unacceptable.

He and Jimin are the first ones to be discharged, which means that breeding you will be their privilege. The knowledge darkens Taehyung’s gaze as he eats you up with his hungry gaze.

“Tae…” You whine impatiently, clenching your thighs together. You are turned on beyond bearing now, seeing the intense gaze he trains on you, his hand tightening over yours. At his request (order?) you’d avoided touching yourself for at least a month now, and Jimin, who arrived home a couple of hours ago, had teased you without relief for ages.

“What’s wrong, love?” Taehyung asks, sliding into the persona that he wears so well in the bedroom. He might be a cute and cuddly puppy most of the time, but both you and Jimin know that when it comes to sex, he’s in charge.

“I missed you.” You pout, tugging on his hand.

“I’m here now.” He teases, grinning at your obvious need.

“Tae…" You whine, pulling harder, and he chuckles at you this time.

“I need to take off my shoes.” He tells you, and you drop his hand so he can unlace his boots. Standing right behind Jimin with your chin propped on his shoulder, your hands slide under his shirt, greedily feeling up his abs. The army had been good for him and his body, you think. They fed him well and worked him hard, and he looks so much healthier now than he was when he left. Watching absently as Taehyung fiddles with his shoes, you sneakily dive your hand into Jimin’s sweatpants to grope him, knowing he’s already hard and waiting for you.

Unfortunately, right before your hand closes around his dick, Jimin lets out a breathy laugh and grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from him. “Be patient, love.” He chastises, despite your pout. Taehyung, stepping out of his boots, grins at Jimin. You miss the look they share completely, distracted by the feeling of Jimin’s body under your hands. Taehyung knows, though, why Jimin stopped you. It’s uncharacteristic of the smaller man, since he’s usually a complete hedonist and takes his pleasure where he can get it.

Tonight, though, is different. Taehyung and Jimin had agreed to abstain for the past month, to increase their chances of success. It means they have nice, thick loads for you. It also means that both of them are working on a hair trigger. After teasing you, listening to you moan and beg for him for over an hour, Jimin is having a difficult time reining himself in. He’s determined to cum inside you and nowhere else.

When Taehyung finally steps out of his boots and away from the genkan, you reattach yourself to him like a limpet, something he’s only too happy to indulge. He picks you up off the floor entirely and hurries to his bedroom, Jimin trailing behind. Feeling your soft, warm body against his after so long of not seeing you… it’s nothing short of torturous, and he can’t wait to be inside you.

He drops you almost unceremoniously on the bed, but one bounce later you’re surging back up on your knees to attack the buttons on his uniform. It’s complicated though, and with the way your fingers are clumsy from eagerness and arousal, it takes you way too long to figure it out. So, with a chuckle, Taehyung pulls your hands away from his shirt and gets to work stripping himself off.

You sprawl out on the bed, watching with a hooded gaze as he shrugs out of his uniform shirt with practiced ease… Only to find another shirt underneath. With a growl of impatience, you sit back up to pull the shirt off him, while Taehyung just laughs delightedly at how impatient you are.

Jimin chuckles along while sitting in a comfortable chair. That's his usual spot for when he watches you and Taehyung. Usually he would stroke himself while waiting for his turn, but tonight he thinks it best to keep his hands off his junk. Watching your reunion with Taehyung is more than enough to keep him hard anyway.

Getting you out of your skimpy lingerie is far easier than getting Taehyung’s top off had been – one rough yank is enough to send the babydoll flying over your head, and Taehyung tugs so hard on the thong you were wearing that one of the hip seams rips against your thigh, something that neither of you pay attention to. Once you’re naked, you wrap your arms around Taehyung’s neck and pull him down onto the bed insistently.

With one hand bracing his weight and his other working the fastening on his pants, Taehyung can’t stop kissing you. It’s deep, filthy and wet, only a lewd promise of what’s to come. With his trousers finally undone, he crawls onto the bed, clad in just boxers. It’s something you’re not used to – Taehyung usually prefers going commando – but the army uniform doesn’t really allow for that. You hook your fingers in the waistband of his boxers to take them off, leaving them around his thighs as you grab his dick and start stroking.

“Fuckkk,” Taehyung swears against your lips, his brows drawing together. Urgently, he pushes your knees apart, his long fingers diving eagerly into your wet cunt. After all this time, he knows he needs to be careful to stretch you out properly, or it’ll hurt, but God if slowly fingering you open isn’t the hardest thing he’s ever had to do when all he wants is to be buried inside you.

With his thumb circling your clit, he gently pushes two fingers into you, pumping them in and out then scissoring them slowly. You shudder, moan and whine, clawing at his back and shoulders, begging incoherently for him to just stop teasing and fuck you already, dammit. He refuses to give in, even though you can feel him grinding his hips against your thigh and the kisses and bites he lavishes on your neck get rougher and less controlled.

When he finally deems you ready to take him, he is as much of a mess as you are. his muscles jumping sporadically under his skin and his jaw clenched. Words seem to be beyond him as he takes his hot length in his hand, rubbing the tip against your pussy to get it nice and wet.

Now that you’re about to get what you want, you calm down, docile under the weight of his body as you press kisses to his jawline. Your legs bracket his hips and you stroke his sides soothingly, feeling the tremors of his body. He exhales a series of curses as he pushes in, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You’re so goddamn tight, fuck.” He grinds out. He reaches down with one hand to rub your clit, and you clench down on him in response as you shiver in pleasure. All the while, he’s slowly inching in, until finally he bottoms out with a groan. “Missed you so much, baby. I’m gonna breed you so good, and then Jiminie is going to do the same,” he coos at you. “Do you like that? We’re gonna get you nice and pregnant.” He grunts as he begins thrusting in earnest.

Jimin finds that he has no choice but to squeeze the base of his dick as hard as he can to avoid cumming untouched at the way you wail as Taehyung pounds into you, finally letting go of all the pent-up stress of the past two years. Being away from his brothers and from you, having to tell so many lies to his platoon mates and the media about him being single – all of it had taken a toll on him that he’s now taking out on you.

For your part, you absolutely adore it, attempting to pull him deeper into you with your legs wrapped around his hips, leaving long scratches down his back from how good it feels.

“Such a good girl for us, aren’t you?” Taehyung pants. “Gonna fill you up so good, and then Jiminie is going to do the same.” He says, looking up at Jimin who’s watching intently. At first, you’d wondered if Jimin ever felt left out from having to watch you with Taehyung, but he thrives on it. While they were in the military, he’d gotten the chance to be with you alone during his breaks, and he’d never gone as crazy as he does when fucking someone else’s cum out of you.

You tilt your head to squint at Jimin, but your vision is slightly blurred from tears. As Taehyung continues pounding into you, you try your best to smile at Jimin, wanting him to feel included too. You can’t see very well, but you know he recognizes your gesture.

It doesn’t take too long for you to reach orgasm after being denied for so long, and as you cum, you clench down hard on Taehyung. “Fuck, you feel so good.” He pants, pressing his face in your neck as he buries himself as deep into you as he can get.

“I love you so much.” He groans, releasing his massive load deep into you. You stroke the back of his neck as you feel his cum spilling inside you, painting your insides white. He slumps on top of you after that, his bigger body blanketing yours, and you hug him close.

“Jiminie." You call softly, holding your hand out to the other man. He comes over to you, brushing your hair off your face affectionately.

“What is it, jagiya?” He asks, smiling down at you.

“I love you too." You tell him sweetly.

He leans down to kiss you. “I know.” He says smugly, and you roll your eyes at him.

He then moves to kiss Taehyung, slowly, lazily. When they break away, Taehyung pulls himself off you and grabs a pillow from above your head, stuffing it under your hips.

“You have to be careful,” he instructs Jimin. “Or else it’ll all come out.”

“I know, I know.” Jimin waves him off, kneeling between your spread legs on the bed. He leans over you, and you giggle as you loop your arms around his neck.

“Did you enjoy Taehyung, jagiya?” he asks. You nod in response, your gaze darting towards Taehyung for a moment before you look away with a slight blush.

“Do you feel up to taking me tonight?” Jimin says next, his fingers brushing over your used pussy. It’s all a bit – you both know that you’ll bite your lip, pretend to think about it, then accept coyly, and that’s exactly what you do.

The best part about going second, Jimin has found, is there’s absolutely no need for foreplay. He doesn’t need to stretch you out or worry about whether you’re wet enough, because Taehyung’s already taken care of that. Easing himself into you, with Taehyung’s cum as lubrication, is another way for him to feel close to his best friend, even as he makes the most intimate connection there is with you.

“Jiminie.” You coo at him as you tighten your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. As turned on as Jimin is, he likes to start slow, building it up and making it last.

“Baby.” He responds with equal amounts of affection, brushing his nose against yours as he starts a slow, steady rhythm.

“I missed you.” You sigh. “You always fuck me so good.” Jimin responds well to compliments, so you make sure to keep up a steady stream, kissing him softly, stroking his sides and back, telling him how good his cock feels inside you. It’s not a lie – Taehyung is big, but Jimin is just a little girthier, and the stretch burns pleasantly as he thrusts into you.

“Ah jagiya, you’re always so good to me.” He moans, speeding up a little. Despite Taehyung’s warning, you can feel his cum squelching out of you, making a mess of both you and Jimin. He probably won’t like that, but it’s a nice feeling, and you hug Jimin closer to you. He doesn’t last long either, but makes sure to get you there first, angling his thrusts so that his pelvis bumps against your clit as he reaches that magic spot inside you with the tip of his cock. He remembers that article he read that said the chances of conception are higher when women orgasm, and redoubles his efforts to make you cum.

After so many years together, he knows your body like the back of his hand, and you find yourself falling apart under his expert ministrations. Almost against your will, you feel yourself tightening around Jimin, broken gasps escaping you as you begin climbing the peak again. You fall apart with a shudder, and Jimin groans as he feels you clench hard on him. Finally, finally, he lets himself cum into you, driving in hard one last time before he spills with shuddering moans into your soiled pussy.

“I love you.” He gasps as he slumps over you bonelessly. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He repeats, nuzzling into your cheek. Equally winded, you pat his back gently, your eyes seeking Taehyung’s.

He stretches out beside you and presses a kiss to your other cheek. “You did well tonight, love,” he praises. “You’re not done yet, though.”

Still a little addled, you don’t have the words to ask him what he means, but the inquisitive tilt of your head has him grinning at you as he holds a pussy plug in front of your face. “So you don’t let any out.” He explains, winking at you.

Jimin heaves himself off you with a grunt, lying flat on his back beside you. Taehyung takes his cue to sit up, pushing your knees apart so he can insert the toy. You fidget uncomfortably for a second, and he strokes your thigh gently. “Such a good girl." He says softly. “Just wanna make sure you keep it all in.”

You force yourself to lay still as he puts it in, then he lies back next to you, one arm flung across your waist. Jimin, on your other side, clings just as hard, and you let yourself drift off to sleep, knowing that round two is coming as soon as they get their breath back.

[luxshine]

The Great Supernatural Rewatch Project - Salvation

I started writting this in the middle of season 13 but RL and work and some mental health issues made me take a step back from fandom in general and well, I was also fearing this would be an unending job since the series JUST.KEPT. GOING.

However, now that the series is done (And omg, what a clusterfuck that was. My tallies are going to go insane if I get there) and thus there’s an ending in sight, I will do my best to finish season 1, and try and get the rest of the seasons in a more timely manner. Say, before they do the inevitable reunion and ignore the last episode completely.

(I’m going to be honest, part of the problem was that Supernatural used to be SO good back then, and when I see the new episodes I weep a bit inside. I can’t believe they were so much better at creating story arcs when they weren’t TRYING to create story arcs)

Of course, now we all know that Dean’s plots in general will not have a happy ending no matter what, and that makes that particular tally bittersweet. But there are STILL people who claim that nope, Dean was never mistreated by the writers and well, Jack damn it, I am not going to let that claim go without bringing numbers to the table. Hopefully, it won’t take me 15 years to finish (Because by then, I would be the only one caring I guess)

In any case, last lap for Season 1 and we begin with Salvation.

General stuff

A specific reason for me having rage quitted this episode in particular for so long: For some stupid copyright thing with Netflix, they don’t have Carry On My Wayward Son as the song for the final recap –at least in Netflix Latam. And Supernatural without Carry On My Wayward Son is no Supernatural. So I had to hunt my DVDs. Then my computer DVD player died. Then I decided to make 5 webcomics at the same time. THEN I decided to start doing illustration works, and three other projects and let’s just say I am a bit of a workaholic and leave it like that as the rest is not SPN-related.

Ahem.

Funny thing about the Road so Far –you know, besides being a LOT shorter than the ones we’re getting now- is that it focuses a lot more on DEAN at the beginning, while if you watch the show, well, we know most of those Dean scenes come from MoW episodes and not the actual mytharc. Another interesting thing is that if one believes those things to be chronological, it makes it as if the Colt had been with the brothers for a lot longer than half an episode, and that Sam’s issue with the visions is not that recent. Edition Magic everyone! Also, omg, they were babies when the series started, and how WEIRD is to see John looking at them with pride and smiling at Dean at some points.

Anyway, the recap and the epicness that is Carry On my Wayward Son ends and we start the actual plot.

Hello Pastor Jim. Goodbye Pastor Jim. And here Supernatural begins the long, long tradition of killing characters who could’ve been useful later on, and more importantly, that could’ve been the boys’s support system later on. While here it’s understandable since we need to show how dangerous and vicious Meg is –ah, irony that in about 8 seasons people will be rooting for her Redemption- it also makes the Hunters kind of useless. I mean, he has all that weaponry and only uses a knife? Sigh. Really, a waste. Pastor Jim as a concept was really intriguing –and I don’t think we’ve heard of any other hunter who was also a priest. Funny, when we have so many demons free now. There’s also the fact that when Pastor Jim claims that she can’t be in the church because it’s hallowed ground, she replies that “That might work with the minor leagues, but not with her” and I wonder… did we ever got a demon that couldn’t enter a church? Because right now out of the top of my head I can’t remember, and yet Pastor Jim was surprised but later no one seems to think it weird there were signs of demonic activity around his body. Another sign that, as engaging as the series was, once we start digging the world building, things fall apart very quickly.

Actually, if I may digress for a bit, here we have the very first look at Supernatural´s second biggest problem: killing support characters that may have been useful lately. Here it is because Kirkpe had this weird idea that Hunting would never be glamorized by the show/fandom and it would be a completely miserable and lonely existence. He also didn’t think that the series would survive past season 2. So, ok, killing the guy we only knew by throw away lines didn’t seem so bad. By season 13 every single recurring character had died at least once –and there were petitions to bring back I think every one of those who haven’t come back- it’s a big problem.

As I restarted writing, I also realized that the mere existence of Pastor Jim and his room of awesome research and weapons creates a problem in the future about the Men of Letters because… ok, so ONE member of the clerigy knew enough about demons and stuff to be a hunter and have THE Hunter as his main contact (John Winchester was sort of a legend back then. And he had also fell out of contact with many others so the fact that he and Pastor Jim were still friendly? Kind of interesting), but what about the rest? Did the Vatican have any contact with the British men of Letters or the American ones? And if so, what the hell did they think when suddenly ALL the Men of Letters disappeared? Ok, so that’s a lot of stuff that doesn’t matter right now as it won’t actually exist until much, much, MUCH latter, but see what I mean when I say that they didn’t plan anything and the lack of a series bible hurts the show more than it helped it thrive? I am realizing right now I could write a whole treaty on the Men of Letters and their non-relationship with hunters ONLY using this cold beginning and the Henry Winchester episode.

But this is not the time for that, so we get our title card and a very, VERY young Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

We move to John who is explaining off camera everything he knows about Yellow Eye´s plan. We can tell it´s not much as he thinks it came out of hibernation and that the whole attacking families is part of a cycle, but back then it was impressive how much he had managed to find out about this demon. We also know that it attacks exactly when the baby in the house is six months old, which brings us to this little jewel:

JOHN It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burned down to the ground. It's going after families, just like it went after us.

SAM Families with infants?

JOHN Yeah. The night of the kid's six-month birthday. 

SAM I was six months old that night?

JOHN Exactly six months.

SAM So basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason. The same way it came for me? So Mom's death...Jessica. It's all because of me?

DEAN We don't know that Sam.

SAM Oh really? Cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure Dean.

DEAN For the last time, what happened to them was not your fault. 

SAM Right. It's not my fault but it's my problem.

DEAN No it's not your problem it's our problem!

 Now, in the following seasons we will know that yes, it was ALL about Sam. But right now, the characters and the viewers don´t know that. We know that a lot of families were killed by the demon (That at this point was still “The demon” and wouldn´t become Azazael until later), and that he doesn´t take the children. So… how did Sam leap from “this demon attacks families with 6 month old children” to “It´s all about ME!”? He even ignores that Dean and John lost Mary for his last line, when he decides it´s his problem and not their problem. Also, and this is important for the “Dean is the most awful person to Sam” crowd… Dean immediately tells Sam that no, it´s not his fault. While he could harbor some ill feelings against Sam –and demon Dean, 8 seasons later, will voice them- at this point he is 100% on Sam´s side. There’s also a sideway glance from John to DEAN when Sam claims that everything is about him, and then I wonder exactly why, if John knew all about the fact that the demon chased six month old children specifically, he never resented Sam over it. One would think that given John’s love for Mary and deep desire to revenge, Sam would really be the outcast and the one only treated like a soldier (as he claims he was, but not really as we’ve seen), instead of Dean who was completely blameless in the whole thing.

(Also, this is the first time we see that Azazael´s plan didn´t make much sense IF we believed that Kirkpe had everything planned. But that´s a discussion for another time)

Anyway, John interrupts the argument to explain that while he has no idea what the demon is after (Another thing that later would be contradicted as he knew Sam had powers), but that he has managed to figure out his pattern of attack to the point that it even repeated it for Jessica’s killing (Even if much, much later, we’ll learn that it wasn’t Azazael the one who killed her, and Demons would completely forego the signs when attacking. Have I mentioned I miss the times when the myths made sense?) and the three of them pack up for their first real hunt together as they decide they will save the next baby on the demon’s list, in a town named Salvation.

Important thing to note: when John recites the demon signs, Dean immediately replies “that happened in Lawerence”. He remembers, quite clearly, what happened a week before his mother died even if logistically, at his age? He wouldn’t care nor notice. Sure, he remembers his mom’s death because that was traumatic. But random cow deaths before that? Weird show.

If Sam noticed or not the signs before Jessica died, we don’t know. John is the one who points out they happened.

After two gorgeous road shots where we see John’s truck being followed by Baby (yet another thing we lost, John’s truck. I know we needed to have the guys together all the time, but man, if Sam had inherited it, they would’ve been able to cover more terrain at times, have double the arsenal and maybe not being identified by everyone and their leviathan in season 7, but I digress), and just entering Salvation John stops, obviously spooked by something. As Dean stops behind him, they find out that Pastor Jim is dead, and John got a call from another hunter named Caleb to tell him. They assume it may be the demon they’re chasing, or maybe another demon that was looking for Pastor Jim specifically but that last theory is not very probable.

Here I have to pause to applaud Jeffrey Dean Morgan’s acting, as you can practically FEEL John’s despair at knowing an old friend of him died, and that HE was probably the cause for that death. A Winchester trait, of course, blaming themselves for everything bad that happens in their world, but unlike Sam’s early outburst, here it seems far more desperate. Of course, JDM had a lot more experience than Jared at that point, but I really wanted to make a note of it because we lost a LOT of that characterization for John, where he actually WORRIED about people and not just the hunt. Even as he decides the plan for finding out what baby the demon will take in a week, we can see him broken and confused. So much that while Sam calls him “sir” when receiving orders, Dean continues the conversation by calling him “Dad”.

John then declares that this ends now, obviously feeling responsible for what happened to his friend. A long shot from the flanderized man we’d hear about in future seasons who was infamous for letting his hunting partners die without so much as a second glance.

Also, and not to be mean to the writers, but in their endless accidentally making Sam unsympathetic, they made him say that there were too many children in the county that could be a victim and that it would take forever to check all of them. While I KNOW the intent was to make clear that they had a deadline of one week, it comes out weirdly as “I don’t want to do the footwork.” Seriously, writers should be careful with that.

Actually, let’s dissect that. Because I just thought of two ways they could’ve fixed it AND give us more info.

JOHN Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health centre in this county. We split up, cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week.

SAM Dad that could be dozens of kids. How do we know which one's the right one?

JOHN We check em all that's how. You got any better ideas?

SAM No sir.

So, first way to make Sam not look that bad: Give the line to Dean. I wouldn’t like it specially, but hey, he’s the sidekick, not the hero, and so far he has only wanted to bail on ONE hunt because he wasn’t sure it was a supernatural hunt so he’d be better standing than Sam in that regard.

Second way: Make Sam say that YES, he has a better idea. Because the brothers ALREADY faced Max, so he could say they could look for a baby that was a bit “strange”, like, with poltergeist stuff going around. John could not believe him, but at least Sam would be being proactive.

In any case, they separate as John planned and we see each of them get into the hospital records. We get a glimpse of John’s collection of fake IDs, that include one for a Morgue forensic doctor, then Sam getting a homely nurse giving him files and him taking notes, and Dean… getting flirty with a very hot nurse.

And I make a point of the “Oh, look, Dean is an irresponsible womanizer” trope because once again the writers shoot themselves in the foot by showing the opposite of what they were telling (And no, this time I can’t blame it on Jensen’s acting and refusal to look at his female co-stars without respect).

WOMAN Hi. Is there anything I can do for you?

DEAN (smiling) Oh God yes.

She smiles and looks down.

DEAN (Holding up his ID) Only I'm uh....working right now, so...

The writers here make us remember that a) Dean is AMAZINGLY charismatic, as the woman IS flattered and seems interested, and b) That he will NOT dump his work for a quickie. We don’t even get a “maybe later” that could make him look as if he was really into her. It’s just that he flirts naturally, or at least, this is what we can infer now, as so far he hasn’t had any one night stand fling. The one time we saw him have a sexual encounter in the middle of a hunt was with an ex-girlfriend.

And again I have to wonder what was Sera Gamble’s intention with those scenes as yes, this was written by the same team as Faith, another episode where Sam’s good intentions tend to have a darker side, and gave Dean some amazingly cool scenes.

We don’t know what Dean says to the woman, as we cut back to Sam, coming out of the hospital just in time to have a very convenient vision of a woman, a nursery and a fire. Thankfully, the vision also comes with the useful audio hint of a train passing by, so Sam gets out his map and starts checking where that could be, which leads him to the house in his vision.

And by this point, we know we’re in the right track and this is an important Myth Arc episode, because Sam only has multiple visions in Myth Arc episodes, and he has one the moment he steps in front of the house in said vision. The gods of convenience smile upon him as right then and there a woman pushing a pram comes by, and he manages to talk to her, all friendly like by pretending to having just moved. Then Sam learns the woman’s name is Monica, her baby is Rosie, and Rosie is just six months old, exactly to the day.

Also, that she’s a very quiet baby and that it sometimes seems as if she was reading your mind. Oh, and that Monica really is blind to suspicious men asking her about her family with a face that reads “Oh shit, this is bad”.

Now, HERE is where the whole “five year myth arc” story falls completely. I mean, we already knew it was pretty unlikely it was real, given Kirkpe’s original interviews, but the mere existence of Rosie contradicts every single future story beat. Because if SHE has powers before Azazael goes into her house, then it means that the babies he was hunting didn’t get powers because of him, just that his blood either connected them (hence Sam’s very specific visions), made said powers far more powerful (quite likely), or made them a little bit more prone to violence/prideful behavior. All of those possibilities match with the plan of “raising” a new King or Queen of Hell, that would be faithful to Azazael, but are a bit iffy on the “finding Lucifer’s vessel” thing. Especially since we later learn that the Angels were also helping, and all Hell knew that Lucifer’s vessel HAD to come from the Winchester/Campbell bloodline due to Cain and Abel being the roots of said bloodline, and later pretty much everyone knew Sam was Lucifer’s vessel so the whole targeting a ton of kids, in particular after Mary’s death, is kinda weird.

Oh, Lux, you will say, it is because he wanted to hide his true intentions! No one knew that Sam had been feed demon blood!

Except that the important parties, namely Heaven and Hell, did. Michael had Heaven convinced of his orders, so even if a rogue angel found out that they were speed running the Apocalypse, said angel could be killed. And any demon who was against getting Lucifer back on top would be smart enough to keep quiet so, why the secrecy?

And again, ok, I buy the original demon blood kids being important to “hide” Lucifer’s vessel but… Rosie? What good would it do to Azazael’s plan to have a psychic 4 year old when Lucifer rose? Was “little four year old girl” a good match against a grown up hunter? What was Azazel thinking, if that was the plan all the time?

Now, I want to make clear this doesn’t make THIS episode or the Season-myth arc bad. This original “Boy King of Hell” storyline WAS good. It had a lot of potential, made sense for Sam and since it was before the days of the eternal “What is wrong with Sam?” seasons, there was no boredom of a repeat. It also set a very good question of what made a monster a monster, which would be explored a bit more in Season 2. And it was long before we realized Dean having a myth arc was a pipe dream, so there was no issue there either. It made sense.

But the fact that the writers kind of forgot about everything I just pointed out with Rosie’s scene to try and weld this to the “Heaven vs. Hell” storyline in season 4, and then just promptly forgot because Sam’s powers were then firmly connected to Azazael’s blood so they never came up again and even worse, we never find another psychic kid that could’ve been feed blood by Azazael THIS year that John was chasing him? (Since we know there were no other survivors from Sam’s generation, and later we have a scene that proves that there were no previous generations to Sam’s), it's kind of weird. Personally, I dunno about you, but maybe a return to this storyline in season 6 would’ve been a lot better than we got. Maybe.

By the way, I am not counting the Boy King of Hell story arc as a dropped plot for Sam yet, as we’re going to keep with this at least until season 3. Yes, now we know it didn’t go anywhere, but at the time, and for these episodes in particular, it was THE myth arc of Supernatural. So it can’t be counted as dropped plot yet.

In any case, Sam goes and tells John and Dean about his vision and… oh, boy do we have to move John’s reaction to Emotional Violence.

It’s not good.

But before he can do more damage to Dean’s psyche, Sam gets a call from our favorite demon, Meg. Even if he doesn’t recognize her voice immediately which is weird because a) he did throw her off a window and one would think that makes a girl memorable, and b) it’s not as he knows that many girls who would call him, despite Dean’s best efforts to get him a new girl.

Meg dismisses Sam and asks for John. She makes clear that she is not playing, that she knows he has the Colt and that he will kill every single person who has ever helped John unless he gives it to her that same day at midnight. And to the brothers’ surprise, John accepts those terms (Unfortunately not before we loss Caleb too. I have a lot less interest in Caleb as a character given that he has exactly half a line in the whole show, but it’s still it’s sad to see a guy so defiant even in the face of death go so soon).

Meg also points out that John having the Colt is a “declaration of war” which is interesting as it sort of implies that if he hadn’t gotten it, then the demons would leave him and the brothers alone. And I find that incredibly funny since… no they won’t. And Azazael would’ve been ok if Sam kept the gun anyway, given why they really wanted and once again I am putting holes on the idea that this was planned from the start, aren’t I?

In any case, John declares that Meg is a demon “or is possessed by one” which… ok? First and only time we get the possibility of a demon not using a meat suit. I don’t think this is a mistake, because after all, this is back before the guys faced demons in a normal basis so they could believe that they had their own bodies besides the ones they possessed (And, more importantly, before there was a retcon that made the brothers face and know about demons since pretty much ever). To be completely fair, as much as I love Jimmy and the whole Lucifer arc once it started to make sense… I would’ve been ok if vessels weren’t needed. It added a lot of complications and ended up making the brothers actual serial killers.

Ahem.

After that little gem of wisdom that will be ignored forever, John declares that he will be taking the gun to Meg to avoid more killing and we get another questionable line for Sam. And I am curious as to how to tally it as it’s the opposite of him wanting to leave the hunt, but it’s not that nice either:

DEAN What do we do?

JOHN I'm going to Lincoln. DEAN What? JOHN It doesn't look lilke we have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people die, our friends die.

SAM Dad, the demon is coming tonight. For Monica and her family. That gun is all we got, you can't just hand it over.

I mean, yes, it is true that the demon is coming for Monica (Well, actually, he’s coming for Rosie, the baby, but I will let that slip pass. Sam is not interested in married ladies), and that with the gun they can kill the demon but it’s not all they’ve got. By this time, Sam has already had his big hero moment when he exorcised a plane in free fall so they could do that, then chase the demon again and then kill it.

But what is jarring is how he hears “a lot of people die, OUR FRIENDS die” and he goes “yeah, whatever, we have a mission to fulfill”.

Which is precisely what later episodes will tell us John used to do, and was the reason why John was not exactly liked by the general hunter population. And at the same time, it’s an eerie reminder of Wendigo, where Sam is willing to let innocents die (his family friends, in this particular case, just as he heard Caleb choke on his own blood) in order to get his way (revenge on the demon that killed Jess. NOT revenge on the demon that killed his mom, since at this point, Sam is still on the “I never knew that woman” train of thought).

Sure, his mind is in the hunt, and that’s commendable because yes, in the long run, killing Azazael would save more innocents (And probably stop the Apocalypse, not that Sam or the writers at that time know it), but it is still strange to see our nominal hero simply not care for his friends’ lives. I mean, at this point WE don’t know about Bobby, so the closest to a parental figure that is not John that Sam had was Pastor Jim and he just DIED.

Worst part is, this could be solved really easy: Just have DEAN be the one who voices the complaint, and have “empathic” Sam mumble that there has to be a way to save everyone (Which, of course, John will mention in a second). It would make Dean look bad, sure, but we’ve been told once and again that Dean never, EVER goes against John plans. Which… not true, ut we will talk about that later. The scene continues, and John declares that he will go to Meg alone, with a fake Colt and while Dean thinks that that won’t work, Sam has a different complaint:

DEAN Yeah but for how long? What happens when she figures it out?

JOHN I just...I just need to buy a few hours, that's all.

SAM You mean for Dean and me. You want us to stay here, and kill this demon by ourselves?

JOHN No Sam. I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home. I want....I want Mary alive. It's just....I just want this to be over.

And oh, boy. Do this four lines again hold so much weight.

First, once again, Dean seems to be worried for John (logically, he’s their dad), while Sam is making the weirdest line in the universe sort of work because he’s complaining that John is trusting them to kill the demon, something HE wants to do and not four seconds ago was saying they had to do, as if it was John shifting HIS job to Sam. Seriously, I don’t want to think the worst of Sam but when you take out Jared’s acting, the text doesn’t do the younger Winchester’s any favors.

And finally… John’s lines that encompass pretty much Dean’s philosophy in the following seasons. “I want to stop losing people we love” is pretty telling, but what comes next? He actually WANTS Sam to go back to college and not worry about the Supernatural. He actively agrees that Dean doesn’t have a home, and WANTS Dean to have one. It’s as close as love as we’ll see from John to Dean in Season 1, and it hurts. It hurts because we can tell he knows he won’t be there to see it… and now, in hindsight with the finale having aired, we also know Dean didn’t get that. (And to be fair, this is the John who did deserve Heaven. Not the flanderized version we’d get in the future)

Although, ironically, Mary got to be alive again, so… One out of three?

(No, seriously, it’s obvious the writers didn’t even remember this speech when Season 12 hit, much less Season 15)

Ahem.

Dean is sent to get a fake Colt, while Sam and John wait for him. If they talked about anything, we don’t know, but when they exchange guns, Dean voices what we all know is true:

DEAN You know this is a trap don't you. That's why Meg wants you to come alone?

JOHN I can handle her. I got a whole arsenal loaded. Holy water, Mandaic, amulets...

DEAN Dad... JOHN What? DEAN Promise me something. JOHN What's that. DEAN This thing goes south just...get the hell out. Don't get yourself killed all right, you're no good to us dead. JOHN Same goes for you. (There is a long pause) All right listen to me. They made the bullets special for this colt. There's only four of them left. Without them this gun is useless. You make every shot count.

SAM Yes sir.

JOHN Been waiting a long time for this fight. Now it's here I'm not gonna be in it. It's up to you boys now. It's your fight, you finish this. You finish what I started. Understand?

 Again, I wish they remembered all they had to get rid of demons before, you know, killing everyone willy-nilly. I mean, I don’t even think I know what Mandalac IS but hey, John says it works, it works. And once more, Dean gets a line that makes clear he is the empathic, loving brother, when it wouldn’t have hurt Sam to say it. In fact, it would make clear that no matter what, he doesn’t hate John. But nope, Sam only acts like the soldier we’re TOLD Dean is, while Dean makes clear that for him, family is more important than revenge (And boy will that come to bite him in the ass later, not in the series, but in this same episode).

Also, I have to admit. When I started this rewatch, John’s final line was just a good moment for John to start letting go of his anger. Now? After that horrid finale? It hurts so, so much. But it hurts more because I KNOW that there’s no way it was intentional. Obviously, Kirkpe didn’t know the series would last 15 years, and I highly doubt Dabb remembered this scene when writing 15x20. But even so, it ends up being Dean’s epitaph. OUCH.

In any case, the Winchester separate again, and we go into act three. Get ready for the feels.

John Winchester hunting alone is a thing of beauty. Seeing him scope the place, check the water tank and immediately think of a plan? Makes me wish Jeffrey Dean Morgan had stayed longer on the show. Sure, John became an asshole, but in this episode he’s still not that bad, we still have no episodes that make clear he didn’t care for Dean, and wasn’t textually abusive. And I am willing to bet that if JDM had stayed, John would’ve evolved more to be a Bobby-like character. But well, What ifs is not why you came to this meta for.

As John is hunting, the brothers are staking out the house were they know Azazael will attack. And while they talk and decide that they have no way to get the family out (In a nice callback to how none of their excuses ever work) we get to this little gem of an exchange:

SAM I wonder how Dad's doing.

DEAN I'd feel a lot better if we were there backing him up.

SAM I'd feel a lot better if he were here backing us up.

Where once again we see where the brother’s priorities lie, and I wonder why the hell the writers ever thought they were writing Sam as an empathic character.

Because yes, Dean is wishing he could be out there helping his Dad, proving that for him, it has always been about the family. Not the hunting, but the protecting. But Sam doesn’t want to protect John. He wants John protecting Them. And helping them in the revenge hunt, not trying to save others.

Sure, we know the brothers are there to save an innocent mother, but John is also saving a ton of hunters and people who, in the past, were nice and open to the family. And it would’ve been so much easier to make Sam look better if he instead had said “I’d feel a lot better if we hadn’t had to separate” or something like that, that proved he saw BOTH missions were important.

Seriously, I do wonder why the writers made these choices, and I wish someone had asked this at cons.

We go back to John, who, really, Is an amazing hunter even if he is a horrible father. Also, I wonder if he got ordained at a web church, in order to be able to sanctify water. That would be such a John Winchester thing to do, and I do wonder why the boys never did it too. ANYWAY, he hands the gun to Meg, and to her ally that came so that we could have a scene to prove the Colt is fake as the ally shoots Meg.

As John says, Meg was lucky the gun was fake. And once again, I do wonder what the plan was if it WAS the Colt. I mean, Meg was Azazael’s second in command. Why would nameless demon risk killing her? Or did he kinow the gun was fake?

In any case, this makes the moment where we can be 100% sure that Meg’s meat suit 1.0 was dead. I mean, she could’ve survived the fall in Shadow, but a bullet to the chest? No way.

We go back to the brothers, and Sam breaks every single law of a procedural show by giving this great speech about how thankful he is to Dean for everything, and how he needs to say that “in case” something happened.

Dean is definitely not impressed and reminds him that the only one dying today is Azazael.

As we see John temporarily escape from Meg and her muscle boy, we go back to the brothers who see the demon omens start up so they get ready for the final fight.

The brothers manage to save Monica and her baby, despite the very understandable interference from Hubbard, the husband (I mean, you would not react nicely to two strangers intruding in your house and yelling to your wife to not go into the nursery room), however, before Sam can shoot Azazel, he disappears into smoke (A really interesting question here is, WHY did Sam wait to shoot and then wasted a bullet, but I digress).

Going completely against M.O, Azazael makes the CRIB burst into flames, but fortunately Dean has already gotten Rosie out of it so the brothers escape the flaming house. While Monica cries her thanks, Sam notices that Azazael is still inside, and tries to go after him, but Dean stops him because he is not going to lose his brother to the fire. By the way, I am not counting “Dean stopping Sam from going into a burning building” as “Dean forcing Sam to do something” since, uh, he was saving Sam’s life and it’s something anyone in Dean’s place would’ve done.

At the same time, we see John getting captured by Meg and her muscle boy because he didn’t think about getting a third escape route (But honestly? That was pretty much a plot necessity. John was HEAVILY prepared for that fight)

Back in the hotel, Dean is worried that John is not answering his calls, while Sam is furious that Dean didn’t let him kill himself by running into a burning house. They have a nasty fight that mirrors the one they had back in the pilot, but since it IS a fight between the brothers, you know the drill. We’re examining it under Violence.

Once Sam calms down, he tells Dean to try calling John again. Unfortunately, it’s Meg who answers and she tells Dean that they’re never seeing their dad again.

And we get the first “To be continued” for the series (Which to be honest, despite all the little continuity mistakes I mentioned here? Is still pretty epic)

Violence

Well, we had to run out of episodes where the brothers don’t fight each other at some point, didn’t we?

This fight, over Sam wanting to kill himself in his search for revenge, is a very neat parallel to the fight they had back in the Pilot, over Sam NOT wanting to even involve himself in the family’s search for revenge. Which I know it’s supposed to be ironic and a show of character growth since now Dean is the one saying that revenge is not worth their lives but… it falls a little bit flat because the reason why Sam is so gung-ho in killing Azazael is, once again, a very selfish one and the way in he expresses it makes it quite clear. (Again, I do wonder if the writers stopped to think about the implications of Sam only getting really into hunting when it was about him or his losses?)

But let’s start at the beginning:

SAM If you had just let me go in there, I coulda ended all this.

DEAN Sam, the only thing you would have ended was your life.

SAM You don't know that.

DEAN So what, you're just willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?

SAM Yeah. Yeah you're damn right I am.

DEAN Well that's not going to happen, not as long as I'm around.

This right here? Is a nice summary of the relationship of the brothers for the whole series. Sam wants to do something stupid, like, say, running into a burning building, Dean is there to stop him before he hurts himself.

Also, let’s make clear the use of first person by Sam. It’s not “We coulda ended this”, as in the family ending the hunt, but “I coulda ended this”. Again, at this point, not something that is a problem, but considering hindsight, we can see how the writers are completely invested in SAM as a sole main character, and write him as such, while Dean is more of the sidekick.

In any case, the argument continues, still not escalating to violence.

SAM What the hell are you talking about Dean, we've been searching for this demon our whole lives. It's the only thing we've ever cared about.

DEAN Sam I wanna waste it. I do. Okay? But it's not worth dying over.

SAM What?

DEAN I mean it. If hunting this demon means getting yourself killed then I hope we never find the damn thing.

Important thing how Sam apparently forgot he left for four (two) years and wanted out of the family business, now that he is angry and into the revenge thing. It’s not “You’ve been searching for this demon your whole life”, which would’ve been correct AND a logical counterargument against Dean. Before this episode, Sam was supposedly the brother who understood that revenge was a way of living, while Dean is the one who was Daddy’s little soldier. But here, when it actually would matter to the narrative, it is as if Sam’s wishes for a normal life are completely forgotten and it’s Dean the one who understands that there’s more to living than revenge (Which, btw, is consistent through the season despite everyone claiming that Dean needs Sam to keep hunting. All season, Dean has been giving Sam outs, telling him it’s ok to quit)

And of course, Dean here proves that Sam is more important to him than revenge for his mother, as he is willing to never get to kill the demon as long as his family, his brother in particular, survives.

Poor Dean.

SAM That thing killed Jess. That thing killed Mom.

DEAN You said yourself once, that no matter what we do, they're gone, and they're never coming back.

SAM Don't you say that, not you! Not after all this don't you say that.

DEAN Sam look. The three of us...that's all we have...and it's all I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together man...and without you or Dad....

Unfortunately, script doesn’t quiet convey the scene as there’s a LONG pause between “That thing killed Jess” and “That thing killed Mom”. Enough so that we can believe that Sam is using that second phrase not because he cares (in the Pilot he made clear he didn’t), but to make Dean get on board with the whole “I can kill myself if it means getting revenge” plan. In other words, once again, Sam is weaponizing Mary against Dean, and that is a really nasty habit the younger Winchester never quite shakes out of. Instead, Dean shows how he LISTENED to Sam back in the Pilot and repeats Sam’s words to him on the bridge.

Which is when Sam loses it and pushes Dean against a wall, Dean not defending himself at all, and yells that Dean has no right to say what Sam told Dean the very first hunt they had together after years of separation.

And of course, once Dean mentions their father, Sam starts calming down. NOT when Dean says that he’s barely holding it together, or that he only has them.   Just when he mentions their father who is, in Sam’s mind, the one who can help him get revenge.

The fight ends, but Sam never once apologizes for what he said to Dean, nor for the fight. Which, by the way, contradicts his claim that Dean “always has his back”.

Emotional Violence

Whenever we have John on an episode, we’re going to have to talk about emotional violence and I kind of hate that because on one hand, I get how John could’ve been a very tragic figure that loved his sons but still wanted to avenge his wife, and not being the abusive bastard we know and don’t love that much.

When Sam and Dean explain about Sam’s visions, and how they started as nightmares but have grown in intensity, his reaction is quite subdued, but clear. He is not happy, but the problem isn’t the visions –for a man obsessed with the supernatural, his outward reaction to his younger son being a psychic is quite calm- but that they didn’t inform him of what was going on:

JOHN All right. When were you going to tell me about this?

DEAN We didn't know what it meant.

JOHN All right, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me.

DEAN dumps the coffee jug and cup back on the counter and strides toward JOHN.

DEAN Call you? Are you kidding me? Dad I called you from Lawrence all right? Sam called you when I was dying. I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery.

JOHN You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry.

And let’s be clear, John’s anger is not directed at Sam, it’s directed at Dean. “Something like this starts happening to your brother” is not “Something like this starts happening to either of you”. Which is also a show of how good an actor JOHN is in universe because WE know that he knew. Missouri TOLD him point blank that Sam was powerful and that he could have known that John was around during the Home episode. But here, he acts as if this was news to him when he could ALSO have told them what to expect if that happened. (Mind you, I am assuming that Sera Gamble knew or remembered about Home’s script when writing this and didn’t just forget or was unaware that John was supposed to know)

Now, all season, Sam has been complaining and yelling about how John doesn’t answer their calls, doesn’t seem to care what’s going on with them. So it’d be logical and in character for Sam to say something here. But instead is DEAN, Dad’s little soldier, the one we’ve SEEN obeying John without question finally have enough and talk back to his father with some truths. And it’s VERY interesting that his first complain is not that John didn’t care that Dean almost died, but that he didn’t reply when Dean called from Lawrence. One could almost infer that Dean expected John not to care if Dean died, but was honestly hurt that he didn’t care about a case that could’ve involved MARY.

John, surprisingly, sort of agrees. He does say “I’m sorry”, which makes him the Winchester who is quicker to say those words… but he still manages to make a threat against Dean “I am not too crazy about this NEW tone of yours”.

Making it clear that before? Dean never talked back. And John doesn’t like it when his soldiers talk back.

It makes it hard to believe John ever thought of Dean as his son and makes it very clear why Dean never understood Sam’s confidence that Dean was the favored one.

Speeches and Apologies

I considered not including this particular speech, but then I remembered that Supernatural is ALSO famous for their big emotional speeches, and this is Sam’s first, and also, Dean’s first time listening to someone he cares about give him the “I am saying goodbye because I am going kamikaze” speech and after all the drama in season 15, I guess it’s necessary to do some dissection.

It is important that despite all the things that Sam has done to Dean, the words “I’m sorry” are never uttered here.

SAM Dean...ah...I wanna thank you. DEAN For what? SAM For everything. You've always had my back you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone I could always count on you. And ah...I don't know I just wanted to let you know, Just in case DEAN Whoa whoa whoa, are you kidding me? SAM What? DEAN Don't say just in case something happens to you. I don't wanna hear that freaking speech man. Nobody's dying tonight. Not us, not that family, nobody. Except that demon. That evil son of a bitch ain't getting any older than tonight, you understand me?

 This is not a bad “freaking speech”. I understand why Dean didn’t want to hear it, because it is like jinxing the mission (And, let’s be honest, it did), but it’s not a bad speech.

Except that, reading it again, it lacks one important part. Sure, Sam thanks Dean for always being there (Forgetting that, at least three times this season alone, he has accused Dean of not having his back and being unreliable. Which will ALSO be a constant theme in the series’s long run), but he never mentions the times HE did things that would be hard to back up. Which, again, I am not counting as a bad thing against him in this precise moment in time, since he is young, in his roaring roadtrip of revenge, and we’ve only know the brothers for a year, but it is the beginning of a series’ long crutch to make us forgive all of Sam’s sins without him actually doing the work to be forgiven.

On the other hand, it all goes to waste a bit later when Sam starts hitting Dean for the horrible sin of not letting him run into a burning building and kill himself so… it’s not really a “thank you for having my back” speech but a “You better remember, you never fight me and my choices are the best” speech in hindsight. Which… not good on Sam, no.

Double narrative standards

This episode is kind of balanced, except for that little moment where we’re supposed to think Dean is wrong for telling Sam that revenge is not worth their lives. So there’s not much to write in this particular segment.

Final Tally

Ok, back in the saddle. And after all that, I decided not to tally Sam’s little slip about not caring if their loved ones die as long as he gets to kill Azazael. Let me know if you disagree.

The count is still not good on Sam’s side, but as always, you are free to disagree with me, and dm me if you think I missed a tally or I should change one. If your argument is solid and canon based, I will listen to it and may change the numbers.

Numbers (or the TL;DR summary)

(Episode/Total so far)

Times Dean has lied to Sam or to a loved one: 0 / 0

Times Sam has lied to Dean or to a loved one: 0 / 3

Times Dean has been caught in a lie: 0 / 0

Times Sam has been caught in a lie: 0 / 1

Times Dean has hit Sam in anger: 0 / 1

Times Sam has hit Dean in anger: 1 / 4

Times Dean's lies or secrets have caused someone's death: 0 / 0

Times Sam's lies or secrets have caused someone's death: 0 / 1

Times Dean has abandoned (Or wanted to abandon) a hunt in the middle for his own needs: 0 / 0

Times Sam has abandoned (Or wanted to abandon) a hunt in the middle for his own needs: 0 / 7

Times Dean forced Sam to do something: 0 / 0

Times Sam forced Dean to do something: 0 / 7

Secrets kept by Dean: 0 / 1

Secrets kept by Sam: 0 / 2

Times Dean has blamed Sam for something: 0 / 0

Times Sam has blamed Dean for something: 1 / 4

Times Dean has apologized with words to Sam: 0 / 3

Times Sam has apologized with words to Dean: 0 / 2

Times Dean has respected Sam's boundaries and/or rules: 0 / 7

Times Sam has respected Dean's boundaries and/or rules: 0 / 0

Times Dean hasn't respected Sam's boundaries and/or rules: 0 / 0

Times Sam hasn't respected Dean's boundaries and / or rules: 0 / 13

Times Dean has made fun of something Sam does or has: 0 / 6

Times Sam has made fun of something Dean does or has: 0 / 31

Times we focus on Dean's needs: 0 / 1

Times we focus on Sam's needs: 1 / 6

Arc episodes dedicated to Sam: 1 / 7

Filler episodes dedicated to Sam: 0 / 6

Arc episodes dedicated to Dean: 0 / 0

Filler episodes dedicated to Dean: 0 / 4

Arc episodes dedicated to both brothers (or to none): 0 / 2

Filler episodes dedicated to both brothers (or to none): 0 / 2

Dean's Dropped Plotlines: 0 / 1

Sam's Dropped Plotlines: 0 / 2

[thebigqueer]

Prompt: Catradora in a Camp Half-Blood Au 👀

pawing Adora this one’s for you babe <3 i hope you like this cursed content <3 this is possibly an even more cursed concept than bilco <3333

thank you for the prompt (/s) and as always: i rarely do any editing on these fic prompts, if at all. this won’t be my absolute best work, so please don’t be too judgmental about it!

also welcome to my first catradora fic ig?????? HAHAHAHA

A strong light bears down over the palace floor, glinting off of the shiny metal object in Bow’s hands. He watches over the three girls cautiously, a look of determination in his eyes. Silently, Adora feels as if she’s being tested. She stands straighter in the hopes that she’ll seem more responsible. 

Catra’s hand grasps hers, fingertips against fingertips. Adora’s chest warms at the mere feeling of Catra next to her. They’ve only been together for a few weeks, but each touch, each embrace, each word and motion and sound seems like a new story. She smiles, despite knowing that Bow’s watching her. 

“Okay,” the archer says, eyes glued to the product in his hands. “So, here’s the plan.” Bow begins to pace, his footsteps lightly tapping against the shiny floor. There’s a nervous edge to him; Adora suspects he’s anxious about the mission. 

She reaches out to stop him in his tracks, but Glimmer beats her to it. The queen balances her fingers gently over his shoulder, a smile sparkling over her lips. “Hey, it’ll be cool.”

“What’s going on?” Catra asks, pulling her fingers out of Adora’s grasp. She opts to cross her arms over her chest, pushing a curious yet bored expression over her features. “Why is Nerd Boy over there so anxious?”

Bow stops in his tracks suddenly and sighs. The metal item shivers in his trembling grasp. The light from overhead flashes over his face, illuminating a look Adora knows so well: feral, anxious excitement. 

A small smile covers his face. “Okay, so I was doing some experimenting, and I got Entrapta to work on this with me. We were talking about that portal thing that Hordak had made a while ago.”

For a moment, he pauses, a darkness sweeping over his eyes. Adora’s heart stutters by the sudden mention of the fateful day. Catra looks away as a flush blows through her cheeks. A shiver takes over the four in the room. 

I almost lost her, Adora thinks in despair. Her fingers itch for Catra’s again, just wanting to make sure she’s really here, that she’s really alive and breathing and really, really Adora’s. 

Thankfully, as if understanding Adora’s silent request, Catra slips her fingers into hers again. 

Bow clears his throat. “Uh, anyway. We got to thinking... what if there are other realities? Things outside of our own universe?” Excitement seeps into his voice and his eyes glimmer with energy. He’s practically bursting through his seams. Adora can’t help but to smile; she’s just happy to have things go back to their normal, casual ways. 

Catra groans. “Oh, god, are you serious? Another alternative-reality thing? Didn’t we already live through enough of those for a life time?”

Bigger holds his hands out in a placating gesture, tipping his head. “Yes, technically, we have. But... I think this is going to be so cool! I think we figured out the logistics of it, and we made this little...” He gestures vaguely at the item in his hands, then shrugs. “I don’t know what to call it. I’ll need to come up with a name later. But the point is that I want you guys to adventure into it.” 

“What?” Catra shrieks, her voice cracking. The fur over her arms stands on end as she stares at Bow, an astonished look coming over her feline features. “You want us to go?”

“Look, I know it sounds bad, but-”

“Absolutely not!” she protests, stamping her foot down on the floor. A frustration creeps over her as she steps towards Bow, jabbing her finger in his direction. “Didn’t we just go through a whole universe-ending ordeal with Horde Prime? What do you think this will do to us?”

“Okay, I know it doesn’t sound very promising,” Bow admits, his eyes tense with understanding, “but just trust me. I think this would be really important to future negotiations.” 

“Let me guess,” Catra mutters, rolling her eyes, “you want us to try it out?” 

All of a sudden, Bow drops to his knees, hands glued together as if praying to the girls. “Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?” he pleads, a pout on his lips. “We have backups ready for you! If anything goes wrong, I’ll teach you what to do. We’ll still be in contact, so you can easily tell us if something’s up and we’ll bring you back.” 

Catra merely scoffs as if the entire idea is wasteful of her time. She stares at Adora, her blue and yellow eyes peering at her as if asking if she can even believe all this. “Adora, what do you say? Should we do it?”

Adora will admit, there’s a bubble of excitement in her chest billowing up. As much as she loves that things are more relaxed now, she’s getting bored; she’s going after new adventures but has found none. This entire plan may be stupid, but she’s willing to do it anyway.

Catra, watching her features shift from curiosity to excitement, groans. “Of course. I knew you’d want to do something stupid like this.” 

“Hey!” Adora protests, leaning towards her. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I want to go, though.” She steps closer to Catra, a mischievous smile stretching across her mouth. “I won’t force you to do anything, but I’m just saying... If you come with me, we get to have some more time together.” She raises her eyebrow. “You know, like old times. Do some trouble around the place.” 

Adora knows it isn’t fair of her to use their past together to convince Catra to come with her, but she really wants to do this with her. It’ll be their first adventure together in forever.

After a moment’s of hesitation, Catra sighs. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

~

About an hour later, the girls stand in the palace grounds courtyard. Darkness spills over the sky, fighting a battle with the golden light seeping from the palace. 

Bow hands Adora the metal item, gesturing to the several buttons as he instructs, “Press this one when I tell you to. Then press this one when you get there. I don’t know where it will take you exactly, but if my math is right, it’ll be a little bit far from here. Don’t worry.” 

Adora found that ironic, since Bow looks plenty worried. 

He swallows, eyes shaking, then keeps going. “Okay, and if you need help or need to contact us, just press this.” He gestures to a small red button on the side of the box. “We should be able to communicate at any point. And this thing can last hours, so don’t worry too much.” 

Catra shivers next to Adora, a pout over her lips. “I still don’t like this plan.” 

“You could easily step out of it,” Adora points out, nudging her. She grins. “But you love me, so that’s stopping you, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” Catra grumbles. 

Bow clears his throat. “If you guys are done...”

The blonde girl throws her arm around Catra, feeling the other girl’s warmth under her skin. Catra pretends to struggle but Adora doesn’t miss the way she leans into her. A glowing smile blooms against her lips. 

“Okay, now, press that button on my count,” Bow informs, nodding towards the metal box in Adora’s hands. 

Her stomach flutters with nervousness, beating and battering against her insides. It seems that only moments ago she was prepared for this, but now, with her friends staring at her, with this cool metal in her hands, she feels only a dread. 

But she pushes through that. She bites her bottom lip and nods. Slipping her fingers through Catra’s again, she tips her head at Bow. “Let’s do it.” 

Bow counts down from three, his voice trembling. Catra’s muscles tense under Adora’s fingers, but she keeps holding on.

“Three,” he mutters, “two.... one!”

Adora presses the large blue button on the box. The world disintegrates around her.

~ 

If Adora could explain the experience, all she could say is that it’s crazy. That’s it. Because she can’t really remember anything except for the whirlwind of chaos, the vibrant purple of the hole in the universe, the speed of being thrown across dimensions. 

It feels as though it’s been hours and microseconds at the same time; time doesn’t exist but surrounds her. Her body stretches out and shrinks in, her very cells tingling with pain. 

And then, all of a sudden, it stops. Catra crashes into her, and together they slam against something hard. Adora’s body bursts with pain with the sudden contact. Nausea roils in her stomach and she feels as though she’s still hurtling through the abyss. 

The faint murmurs of voices drift into her ears, but she can barely understand them. Pain washes over her in waves and she only lets them crash against her. She’s too exhausted to move. 

Catra shuffles next to her, groaning. A faint breeze brushes past Adora, its calmness significantly more relaxing than the pain still racking her body. 

It takes her a few moments before the world stops spinning out of her control. Another groan spills from her and she rubs her head. She absorbs the cool breeze in the hopes that it will calm her. 

Her eyelids flutter, dapples of light spilling into her eyes. She’s momentarily blinded by the golden rays, but after pawing at her eyes, they adjust to the brightness. Green trees surround her, practically glowing in the light. Grass scratches underneath her palms.

“Where are we?” Catra mutters next to her, slowly sitting up.

“I don’t know...” Adora admits. Her brain feels fuzzy, static, confused. She feels as though she’s still trapped in-between dimensions.

Voices drift through her ears again, and she turns. A scream almost escapes from somewhere deep within her chest when she realizes the amount of beings standing by, watching her and Catra. 

Catra gasps and scrambles next to her, her breathing ragged. The beings stare at the two girls in their own shock as well. 

“Is that a... cat girl?” a blond boy asks, his voice dripping with amusement.

Another person steps forward, their dark hair sweeping over their eyes. They’re clouded over with something dark, something deep. They seem as though they’ve seen a lot of things. 

“It’s coming,” he says. “The universes are colliding.” 

[shinebrite97]

Part 3

Read Part 2 here      

  Her phone had seen no action since her message to Lucifer, and with no little check mark to indicate he’d seen it, she figured he was still up to his eyeballs in papers and backlogged work.          Now her phone sat beside a fancy little appetizer plate along with too many forks and spoons, hidden behind a basket of steaming rolls between the two of them.          A quick dinner at Ristorante 6?

        Her mind was racing, taking in the sites of well-dressed demons giving her judgmental looks as Diavolo simply smiled and buttered a roll.          “So,” She said. “It's been some time since we’ve spoken...hasn’t it?” She asked.          “You’re absolutely right, Yuri,” He replied. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve spent time with you at all since you returned.” He glanced up, golden eyes boring into her from across the table as he busied himself unbuttoning the long sleeves of his uniform. “Tell me, how are you settling in as a returning student?”          “I...it’s been…” She trailed off, wondering how to respond. “I’m enjoying myself.”  When he didn’t say anything more, she shifted awkwardly in the chair. Its back was too high, the velvet cushion too firm, the space between her and the table suddenly felt very restricting.         "Um…" Yuri bit her lip, considering all the things she could gush about. The food, the people, the things she was learning. "I don't know…" she replied. "I'm just...happier here." She turned her head, stifling some comment about Stockholm Syndrome, and looked back when Diavolo opened his mouth. He closed it again, and her eyes flitted down, seeing him grip a golden soup spoon.          "Are you and Lucifer expecting another paper from me at the end of term?"          Diavolo laughed.         "No," he said. "No. I just wanted to know."          "Okay," she replied. "But I know you didn't bring me to this beautiful restaurant to ask about my stay."          "No, I suppose I didn't." His words ended in a trill, almost as if he was waiting for her to make the next move, but with a distinct lack of details as to why she was here, she bowed her head, letting the awkward silence fill in, hoping this chair would come to life and devour her.          “I’m not really sure how much help I’ll be for anything, to be honest.” She said. “I’m flattered, but…”         “Yuri, I need you to marry me.”         Dead air. That's what came of her parted lips. She hadn't even closed her mouth when Diavolo processed his words. He shook his head, feeling a bright burn in his cheeks as he cleared his throat.         "I could have said that better," he said.          "Sir?* She asked.          "I can explain," he said. "You are aware that I am the next in line for the throne, correct?"         "Yes."         "I have been raised for this position for thousands of years, and I've always done as instructed, learned all there is to learn, and the powers that be have decided that I'm ready."         "That's amazing!" Yuri replied with a big grin. "Congratulations Lord Diavolo!"          "Thank you," his smile took up the majority of his face, a bright beam that overtook the single candle at their table, and Yuri blushed.         I'd give anything to see that smile…         "However," he added. "There is one condition I seemed to have overlooked in all this, a requirement of ascension is to have a partner, one who can ensure the successful production of an heir."          "That's...awfully practical." Yuri replied. "And you're asking me to...take that spot?"         "I am," he murmured. "Now I'm not asking you out of convenience. I am asking because you have become a trusted friend, and because...well...you are the only woman who isn't afraid to be seen with me. The only person, aside from Lucifer and Barbatos, who will speak to me...who isn't afraid of me."         "Dia…" she whispered. The turn of his lips at her response made the pit of her belly burn. It was something so guarded, an attempt at hubris that didn't quite reach his eyes. Eyes that glimmered with tears in the flickering light of their table's candle. She saw his knuckles clenched above the table, fingers wrapped around the soup spoon, and without thinking, she felt his warm skin under her hand. Smooth as marble, strong and still. He barely noticed at first, but once he did, he cleared his throat and averted his eyes, but very pointedly did not move his hand away.         "Basically," he said. "I need your help with the ceremonial side for things. My coronation with take place during my wedding, and if you accept...it would also be your coronation...and wedding."          "Coronation?" She asked.         "Yes…" he said quietly. "Even at the lowest level of royalty, it would  involve changing your title, you would become Lady Diavolo, and I would become King...you would take on the responsibility I currently possess, and...well, the rest of the logistics could be decided later."          "I see…"         "Now I will not force you to agree, I will not hold you against your will, I am simply asking you...because...well to be perfectly honesty with you, Yrui...there isn't another lady I would want to ask.'         "Diavolo?" she asked.         "Not to mention, Barbatos told me. I asked him to look into the futures, the realities where this takes place, and I either forfeit the crown, or I live in a loveless arrangement with some other demon nobility, or I ask you...and he swore we were happy."          "Wow…"         "Is this too much?" He asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…."         "Here you are," a raspy voice broke off his apology as the horned waiter set down plates at the table for them.          Carved Shadow Hog was the only food item on the plates that Yuri recognized having enjoyed it with the brothers before. However the cup holding an odd-looking relish had bits resembling pineapple. Diavolo smiled in thanks as he lifted his fork.          "It looks delicious," Yuri said carefully. The waiter bowed his head before slithering away to the next table and Yuri picked up her fork, first going for the medley of steamed bitter vegetables.         She learned early on not to judge meals by name or appearance, because the one she feared most, the Quetzalcoatl brains had ended up becoming a comfort food for her. She recognized the prickly cucumber and the odd little root vegetable, one that Asmo seemed to favor, always saying that it was good for reducing puffy skin under one's eyes.          Diavolo paused his words long enough to take a bite of his shadow hog topped with the pineapple relish, though the second his mouth closed, he frowned, lips pursing and mouth scrunching as his eyes squinted into slits. He chewed hard, quickly swallowing and shuddering before taking a longer-than-necessary sip of red wine.          "Is everything okay, sir?" She asked.          He nodded, using the napkin to wipe his top lip.          "There are...pickles...in the pineapple relish." He grumbled.         She laughed. A loud sound that traveled through the dining room and left her quickly covering her mouth in embarrassment         "Oh, I see…" she smirked, hiding a giggle behind her napkin as she dabbed at her lips. Fondly, she remembered their conversations, the first time Diavolo ever confessed his hatred for pickles, and the time Barbatos and Lucifer devised a plan to slowly incorporate them into his meals. He'd been weary of any food prepared by them for months following the incident.          "You like pickles, don't you, Yuri?" He asked.         "I do, in fact." She replied. He smiled politely, using just his thumb and index finger to hastily pick up the small glass bowl and placed it gingerly on her plate.          "For you, my dear." he said softly.         Yuri giggled, accepting it and placing it beside her own. After a quick sample of it with the tip of her fork, she beamed.          "This is delicious!" She said.         "Ah the perks of partnership…" Diavolo mused. "One to enjoy the foods you do not."         "If I accept this deal," she said. "I know there is more than just a title and a dress. What are the things I will be learning?"         "Good question! I'll admit even I hadn't thought that part all the way through yet," he blushed. "You would require at least a crash course of everything I learned growing up... considering I have six thousand years of knowledge...and you only have two months to learn everything…"         "I'm sorry," she interrupted. "Two months?"          He had the decency to look stricken as he took in her response.         "Yes…" he said. "I know that is hardly any time, and I wished I had more time to offer you," His fingertips drummed against the surface of the table as he willed himself to he devoured into the chair behind him now. "I, myself, only found out about all of this today."         "I see…" she replied.         "Well, I think I have said everything I can on this topic, and I believe my last method of persuasion is simply begging on my knees, but I do hope you wouldn't have me do that here."          Yuri blushed at the idea, waving away the mental image and nodded.         "If I may...do I have time?" She asked. "At least tonight...just to think about it?"          "It is only right to grant you that," he said. "Very well. Once we finish our meal I will walk you back to The House of Lamentation."          "Thank you." She smiled.          

         Yuri was surprised at how nice it was to spend time with Diavolo alone. It was a thought that at one point intimidated her, but now more than ever she realized just how lonely the young demon prince was.          Their dinner conversation often shifted quickly, and once she used her DDD to find a Devilgram post he told her about, she finally saw the list of comments under each post.         Under one of Mammon and Leviathan, Diavolo had commented "That looks like fun!"          Under one of Asmodeus with shopping bags. "How wonderful!"         A post from Simeon where Luke seemed to be nudging Solomon out of the Purgatory Hall Kitchen. "Come have tea sometime!"

I'd like to join next time! Hope you enjoyed yourself! We should get together!

        Listening to him animatedly discuss things regarding those around him, all as heresay, made her realize how little he was in on others' lives.          He needed someone. A social buffer, the small cute thing that made him seem more approachable.          He needed a friend who appreciated him as much as he appreciated other.         He needed a partner.         And he'd asked her to be just that.         After dinner, and a bill he didn't even let her look at, he kept his word and walked with her right up to the gate, a quick goodbye and a quicker tight hug, and he watched as she walked up the steps and used her key to open the door.          I'll do it. 

[life-observed]

How To Keep TV Real The Anthony Bourdain Way

How To Keep TV Real The Anthony Bourdain Way Anthony Bourdain didn’t start out developing TV shows. But seven seasons later, his No Reservations is going strong and, together with production partners Zero Point Zero, he’s launched a second show, The Layover and is working on a range of new projects. Here, the author/chef/restaurateur/TV show creator and star and Zero Point Zero principals talk about keeping TV real. BY ZACH DIONNE7 MINUTE READ Seven seasons deep, Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations is doing something right. The show, which revolves around the brash chef/author/all-round personality indulging in transformative stints of eating, drinking, and traveling, airs on the Travel Channel and is a product of Bourdain and Zero Point Zero Productions, the same company that just helmed a successful first season of a Bourdain offshoot, The Layover. Co.Create sat down with Bourdain, Zero Point Zero executive producers Chris Collins and Lydia Tenaglia, and managing director Joe Caterini to dig into why Bourdain’s shows stay afloat in a sea of programming, how multi-hyphenate creative types are working to adapt to new content paradigms, and why comedian Louis C.K. should be emulated in all things. Co.Create: You’re filming No Reservations’ eighth season. What’s the first trick to keeping the show fresh? Tenaglia: We understood very early on that if you’re really going to get to know a location well, it’s got to be through the characters that live there. Many scenes live or die by a good sidekick. Bourdain: Fixer selection is huge. Do they know the area as well as they say? Are they capable of doing all the logistical shit a fixer’s gotta do? But also, do they have a sense of humor? Are they fun? Do they drink? We’re not looking for the best of a place or everything you need to know about a place; we’re looking to have as close to a local experience as we can get, and have a good time and do something interesting that hasn’t been done before.

With Anthony’s writing background, are you doing much scripting ahead of time? Bourdain: We don’t script. We never do any writing beforehand. The Queens of the Stone Age show, it was like, let’s go to the desert and see what Josh Homme wants to do. All we really know for sure is he’s going to provide music for the show and we’re gonna be in the desert. If you think you’ve already figured out what the show’s going to be about or what you expect out of the scene, that’s a lethal impulse.

Does it get tricky to stay away from a fixed template? Tenaglia: Each year the show keeps evolving. Tony has an inimitable style and strong point of view that informs the creative, and we have an incredible creative team, very multi-platform, from animation to incredible graphics to unbelievable shooting and cinematography that informs the show. It truly evolves out of this process of intense collaboration, and then having these incredible creative tools to basically tell a story in any way, shape, or form. Bourdain: Let’s face it, ordinarily this is a very restrictive format. The story is always the same: Guy goes somewhere, eats a bunch of stuff, and goes home, presumably having learned something. The core of whatever we do is to fuck with the format as much as we can. Let’s find a way to tell what is basically the same story, different setting, in as disturbing-to-the-network fashion as possible. Why? Bourdain: Because television, if it’s a success, if it works, they wanna replicate it. That’s the death of creativity. Then we’ve settled into a groove, then I become bored, the people I work with become bored…it’s a mortifying process. If this isn’t fun and interesting to us, there’s no point doing it. Collins: We continually want to push further in the storytelling. We understand that with television you’ve got to work within certain parameters, but within those 42 minutes and 30 seconds, how can we play with this thing?

One way you did that was with an entirely different show, The Layover. Bourdain: That’s an even more restrictive concept–this is a format that’s been done a million times. Everybody loves the damn thing, but it took me a few episodes to figure out how to do it. No Reservations is about me, me, me–they’re basically essays. The idea of going to major cities and doing a “useful” show really goes against the grain.

What are the driving principles behind Zero Point Zero as a content production company? Caterini: The heart comes from a true vérité documentary filmmaking tradition. Bourdain: You don’t want people saying, “Could you say that again?” We’d rather miss the scene than fuck up the scene you have. That dynamic is absolutely essential to why our show is different from all the other travel shows. The show looks slick, it’s beautifully photographed, beautifully edited, but you’re never going to get those transforming human moments out of a character reenacting them for you. You’re never going to get real generosity, any kind of chemistry or any kind of fun, for that matter, if you’re muscling and you keep hammering home the theme. Caterini: Our primary goal is to be able to work on projects in the way we want to. We are looking to learn about digital technology and distribution and other ways of making content that don’t have to fit into the TV business formula. TV, being advertiser-driven, is all based on predictability and consistency. Predictability means you can’t take risks and consistency means it’s dreadfully boring. We’re fortunate we can bust those two barriers down, but it’s really hard to sell new TV shows when that’s your launch pitch. Why does it work with No Reservations? Caterini: The creative process is executed very well. We create situations that optimize that. We feel lucky we got greenlit and got on the air. Now we’ve proven that it works.

How do you take it forward? Caterini: We had a big eye-opening moment when we launched into social media, and looking at it as simply another medium in content and storytelling; truthful storytelling in different size bites with a different arc of time. We’re connecting directly with who really matters, which is the audience, the people who want to enjoy what we’re creating. That really did open up the doors for us to think about ways to go straight to them. For a lot of content creators that’s extremely exciting, and the revolution really hasn’t even happened yet.

📷You must be familiar with how Louis C.K. sold his latest stand-up special directly to fans for $5 via PayPal. Bourdain: A heroic pioneer. It was a huge, tectonic moment. Tenaglia: What’s really fantastic about him, and I think it mirrors a lot of what we do here, is he’s the producer of the piece, the writer, the editor, behind the scenes, in front of the camera–he’s extremely multifaceted and nimble and flexible and self-contained. I think we have a lot of those same qualities. We don’t go out with big, bloated crews of 25 people. We can create something pretty extraordinary with a team of one or two. What’s the key to getting content made, and seen, with these new paradigms? Bourdain: People in the television business have a vested interested in keeping it as close to the way it was as possible. You don’t want to cut the ground out from under your own feet. We’re in a more luxurious position to adapt to the situation on the ground. I like making television. But I definitely have both eyes on what’s next. Caterini: The creative people have to shift the content paradigm. We look at social media as a big medium in and of itself, and we’ve successfully developed and in fact exploded growth in an audience. So it’s working. Then unfortunately we have to say, “Is that a business or not?” But that has to come second. I think we’d ideally like someone to build the perfect platform for creators to work off of. There are bits of it. No one’s actually figured out how to turn it into money right for the creator, though. I think either the platform will come along or we’ll have to do some of the business a network does–market our own stuff, sell our own stuff. Bourdain: A person with a television show generally lives or dies by the Nielsen numbers. I don’t really understand why anyone would care. I care how many people over time see and like the show and are interested in seeing more stuff. That’s the only number that counts.

What about your personality as a brand, Tony? How does it factor into all this? Bourdain: I’m happy to use the word “brand,” but listen, I’m doing a lot of things: I’m doing a comic book, I’m writing for Treme, I’m making two television shows, publishing books. I do these things because they’re fun, and interesting, and because 12 years ago I had no opportunities to do anything. It bothers me when people say I’m “expanding the brand.” You expand the brand so you can land a Pepsi-Cola commercial. You haven’t seen me endorsing any products yet, though I am asked. I’m doing it ’cause it’s fun. What happens when things become not interesting? Then it’s a job. I had a job for years, I know what it’s like to show up every day and do the same thing the same way. I don’t know how Howie Mandel gets up in the morning. I don’t ever want to be that.

[gwenvrse]

dream come true

summary: You tune into Tom Holland’s Instagram live for the huge Marvel pub quiz. You would’ve never expected him to even notice you but never say never. pairing: Tom Holland x reader warnings: fluff word count: 1.5k notes: This is my very first time writing absolutely anything. I did this for fun but definitely let me know how I did! *gif by @morganstarks​​ *

You’ve never been this excited about something as simple as a live stream. Not just any live stream though, it was the Marvel Pub Quiz hosted by none other than Tom Holland. Quarantine has seriously been such a bummer. You aren’t feeling as productive as usual.

Probably because of all the junk food and playing Animal Crossing for hours on end.

Nah.

It was just so exciting to even feel like Tom remotely knows who you are. You’ll watch his live and there’s a teeny weeny chance that he could see your name. Then maybe click it. Scroll through your Instagram and maybe-

Oh god stop it. That would NEVER happen.

As it’s nearing the time for the quiz to start, you head to the kitchen to get a snack. Since this is a Marvel quiz, the only logical snack is popcorn because of all the Marvel movies you’ve seen in theaters. As you shove the bag in the microwave, your younger brother pops his head around the corner. 

“Watcha making???” He eyes the microwave.

You reply, “Popcorn…. For one.”

He pouts but it’s soon erased when he sees you pull out two bowls from the cabinet. You’re not feeling that cruel today.

“What time is that Marvel quiz? I can’t wait to kick Stephie’s butt in this quiz. She said I didn’t know anything about Marvel. Is she stupid?!” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s in a couple minutes. And how dare she even think that. You’re the master of Marvel knowledge,” you say with a hint of sarcasm. The machine stopped beeping, and you separated the popcorn into two bowls. You hand one to your brother and head over to the couch. “Oh my god, it’s almost time!” You say with popcorn in your mouth. You open your phone and click on Tom’s icon. You cannot wait to see his cute face.

The live starts and you hear Tom’s sweet voice say, “Hey everyone what is up! I miss you all so so much and I hope everybody is doing well during these tough times.” He is so caring and thoughtful. You turn to your brother and he gives you a look that is slightly judgey.

I must’ve been smiling without noticing. Oh well. He’ll understand these feelings eventually.

It’s not exactly time for the quiz to start yet so Tom just stalls by talking to Harrison, Harry and Tuwaine. They go on for a bit and start arguing about what is the best episode of Kitchen Nightmares. Tom looked at the live and he quickly realized he was stalling for too long.

 “Oh shi- uh sorry,” he stutters, “I mean lost track of time there. It is now time to start the greatest Marvel pub quiz ever made! And that is totally true because I said it and I am never wrong.” 

The quiz starts, you and your brother are both using your massive knowledge of the Marvel Universe to answer questions as quickly as they come. A couple of the questions you both sat there arguing over who was right. Some questions were complete guesses because neither of you could remember the correct answer. After a few minutes, the quiz is done. You look over your answers, hoping they’re right because Marvel is one of the few things that bring you joy.

Tom smiles as he finishes taking a sip of water, “Okay! The quiz is done, so now I will start inviting people on the live to see if you guys got the right answers! These questions weren’t easy, I know that…” he pauses. Tom begins to struggle with the phone.

“Uh boys,” Harrison’s head pops up on screen next to Toms, “how do I invite someone on the live with me? I tried pressing this and-”

“Tom you’ve got to get better at this bro,” Harrison rolls his eyes

“Yeah yeah, I am a 90 year old man in a 23 year old’s body. I get it,” Tom replies

“Alright, so you press this button and type the person’s name in and then press invite. Got it, grandpa?” Harrison giggles as he walks away.

“Ha Ha. Anyways, let’s start inviting people! Let’s see who’s first,” Tom eyebrows pinch together a little while trying to find someone to invite. You adore his determined face.

You were hoping he would click on your username eventually but after a while it seemed like it wouldn’t happen. Seeing other fans on the live made you feel a little sad but also happy because they look so happy. You were glad that you had gotten most of the answers right so far. Made you feel a little better about the possibility that you weren’t going to be on a live stream with Spider-man.

“We have now gotten to the last question. And I am going to pick, uhhh, y/username! Please click accept to come on the live,” Tom smiled and you suddenly felt your heart in your stomach.

Did he really just- No… no. There’s no way. It’s gotta be someone else with a similar username.

Your brother snaps you out of it, “Y/n! He sent you an invite for the live! Accept it!” He was shaking you and almost jumping on you. You see the accept button and you press it.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. Is this real?

Your face appears below Tom’s on the screen. “Uh.. Oh my god. Hi” Your voice is so shaky.

C’mon, get it together.

“Hi there love, what’s your name?” Tom’s smile was so friendly. You could almost melt.

“I’m Y/n and this is my brother, Kevin,” Kevin’s head pops into the corner of the screen for a second as he waves to Tom. You are getting so red.

“Nice to meet you guys! Glad you could hang out and do this fun quiz with us,” Tom replies

You start to answer with, “We are really big fans. I love-” 

Kevin cuts you off, “You! Y/n loves youuuu! Y/n is always watching your Spider-man movies and-” You shot him dagger eyes and he stopped talking. 

But it was no use. You were beet red and could feel the heat in your cheeks. Thousands of people just saw and heard that. You were so embarrassed. You made a mental note to kill your brother later.

“Uhhh… disregard that! I just think you’re an amazing actor and I just really love you as Spider-man” You chuckled and tried to look nonchalant.

Tom smiles and lets out a small chuckle, “I like your brother. Good man. Ready for the question Y/n and Kevin?” You both nod yes. “What does S.H.I.E.L.D. stand for?” Tom makes a small wincing face. This one is a hard one. But you and your brother definitely have this one.

At the same time, you and Kevin say the answer, “Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division!” You both smile at Tom through the camera.

“Yes! You guys are so right! I can never get that one. Thanks Y/n and Kevin. You guys are awesome!” Tom winks and you can’t help but feel like that was for you.

Don’t be crazy.

You get off the live and can’t stop smiling. Kevin nudges you and you snap at him. “Why would you say that?! I was trying to be chill and you just made me look not chill at all!” You gave him a dirty look but definitely didn’t mean it.

Tom’s live ended while you were lecturing your brother. You sighed.

I can’t believe that just happened. Tom said my name!

You get up and bring your empty bowl to the sink and start washing. Kevin gets off the couch and you grab his bowl, “I’m going to my room, Y/n. That was so cool! I can’t wait to rub it in Stephie’s face tomorrow.”

You can’t stop thinking about Tom and the monumental moment that just happened. You don’t think anything will ever top that.

*Ding*

Tomholland2013 sent you a direct message

You take a breath in a little too quickly and almost start choking. Then you remember that people who got the questions right would get a signed poster. The dm is probably just for your address. You open the message. Tomholland2013: Hi Y/n! Thanks for playing!  I can’t believe you guys got that question right. It’s way too hard for me 😅 Anyway, could I get your address to send you your prize? I knew it. It’s still so surreal that Tom Holland sent you a dm on Instagram. Who cares if it’s not the dm that you wish it was? Y/username: Thanks for picking me! That was such a dream come true! Btw I’ll take the credit for that one, my brother had no clue what it was. My address is 111 Glendale Rd, NY, USA 😊 Dream come true to be on a live stream with a celebrity? I mean I guess but that sounds so weird. I regret everything.

You close your phone. You figure that’s probably the end of that conversation. Although the moment is over, you still feel the butterflies in your stomach.

*Ding*

Again?

Tomholland2013: Thanks again for playing, love. By the way, I think it’s really cute that you’re in love with me 😉

~*~*~*~*~ tagging some mutuals that i love w all mi corazon: @chaoticpete​ @underoosjae​ @peterismymans​ @bubblebucky​ @rogvewitch​ @quackeroos​ @andromedaaaaaaaaa​ @sovereignparker​ @lost-space-ranger​

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Flatbush & Atlantic: part ix

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii

And here we’ve got part ix! This will be the second-to-last part of the series, I’ve got some thoughts also running around for a possible epilogue if that’s something anyone would be interested in reading. As always, there’s literally nothing writers love more than hearing from you all, so don’t be afraid to come and tell me what you think - my inbox is open, comment on the post, reblog with your thoughts!

part ix

April 27 (tues)

Mat’s mind was racing. If he was honest, he hadn’t been able to concentrate worth a damn since Cass had dropped the news about her job offer. Hong Kong? He knew she was brilliant, knew that her skills could and should take her anywhere in the world she wanted to go; the thought that she might leave New York, leave him, was still terrifying. Becoming more worried by the minute, he pulled out his phone, dialing the first person he could think of that might be able to help. 

Tito answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Tito. What’s up?” Mat asked nervously. 

“What’s wrong, Mat?” He immediately asked. Mat cursed under his breath; even over the phone, Beau was always able to read him like a book. 

Mat grimaced. “That obvious, huh?”

“Mat, we see each other pretty much every day. Not to be a jerk or something, but you don’t really call me unless something’s wrong. What is it? Did you and Cass have a fight?” Mat could imagine him crossing his arms on the other end. 

“Not exactly,” he said, scratching his head as he wandered aimlessly around the park. “She got this job offer, and it sounds like a really exciting opportunity, but…” He trailed off. 

“But?”

“It’s all the way in Asia. It’s in Hong Kong.” 

Tito sucked in a breath. “Oh, wow. That’s a big one. Big move. Has she said if she’s going to take it?”

“Not really, she hasn’t decided.” Mat shook his head, not realizing Tito wouldn’t be able to see. “We talked through it a little, they’re offering a really good starting salary and she likes the company values, but it’s such a huge jump that she’s not ready to make the call yet.” 

“Did you talk about what it would mean for you as a couple?”

“A little, though not as much as we probably should have,” Mat admitted. “Neither of us would want to break it off just because it would be long distance, but logistically it would just be a nightmare. It’s something like a 15 hour flight from New York, so it’s not like either of us would ever be able to make that more than once or twice a year. Did you know that it’s a twelve hour time difference from here?”

“No,” Tito said, “and it’s obviously not like I know exactly what you’re going through. Paige is a kindergarten teacher, so it’s not exactly like her job would suddenly pick up and move to another country. But it’s obviously a different story with me.”

As distracted as he was, Mat felt compelled to respond. “You know they’re going to resign you, right? It would be a terrible move for them if they didn’t.”

“Yeah, I mean that’s what I’ve figured,” Beau responded. “And my agent told me to expect negotiations to start in the next month or so, but still. I could be sent to Winnipeg or Phoenix or Vancouver pretty much without notice, and I wouldn’t want to ask her to just pick up her whole life and follow me. So, I get the feeling.” He paused for a moment. “How do you feel about it?”

“Mixed feelings,” Mat answered honestly. “I’d never want to hold her back from anything, that’s not the kind of person I am and it’d be a dick move regardless. She’s her own person and deserves to be able to make her own decisions. And I would never want her to grow to resent me if she decided to stay for my sake. That would almost be worse. I just..I really love her, Tito, and I would hate for us to never be able to see eachother because of her job. Or worse, for this to mean the end of us because the distance was too hard to deal with.”

It took Tito a minute to respond. “I know you love her, Mat. It’s pretty obvious. You look at her like she hung the moon. But if they all say that things will work out if you love each other and talk it through, then what are you so worried about?”

Mat took a deep breath before answering, trying to gather his thoughts as best he could. When he spoke, his voice wavered. “Because I’ve never been this gone for a girl, Tito. What Cass and I have...I don’t even know how to describe it. I’d stop the Earth turning if it made her happy. It’s just...she’s it for me. I’m done looking. And the idea that I could be 13,000 kilometers away from her isn’t even something I had considered. I wouldn’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

“Wow. That’s...that’s big, Mat. You serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he replied. 

“When do they need to hear back by?” Tito asked.

Mat looked down at his watch, checking the time. “Not for a few weeks. She’s got some time to decide, which is almost worst.”

Tito hummed sympathetically. “Just talk it through. I can’t pretend like I know what’s going to happen, but I have faith in you. It’s going to work out.”

“I hope so.”

 May 13 (thurs)

 It was nine days before Cass graduated, and if she was being honest, her time may have objectively been better spent studying for her finals, the first of which was Monday. But this was Mat, and this was the Stanley Cup Playoffs, and she supposed that her studies could wait for a night while she spent her evening at Barclays. It was Game 5 of the Eastern Conference final, and there was no way she was going to miss her team’s chance at the Wales trophy. The tone in the arena was tense from the moment she stepped in; ever the optimist, Cass liked the Islanders’ chances, but the fact remained that they were down 3-1 in the series after a 4-0 rout by the Lightning in Game 4. The series had started off with forward momentum after winning the first game at home, but the three-game losing streak had done little for the fans’ hopes and even less for the team’s morale. 

The only bright spot, if she could call it that, was Mat’s return to the ice. He knew as well as anything that the recovery time was for his own good, but he wasn’t made to be cooped up in his apartment for nearly two weeks straight, save only doctor’s appointments and short trips to the complex gym. Per his usual dramatic fashion, Mat had been cleared in time for Game 7 of the second round, returning to raucous cheers and scoring two goals in the eventual 4-2 win over the Capitals. She had caught up enough on her work to be able to make the game, and it was one of the great joys of her life to be up in a box surrounded by her friends when the love of her life scored the goal that sent the Islanders to the conference finals for the first time in nearly thirty years. 

That kind of a dramatic win had made the losing streak that much harder. Game sevens are always exciting, especially with someone coming back off of injured reserve. While the win hadn’t made the team cocky by any means, the confidence had carried over into something more closely resembling complacency. They won Game 7, they won the first of the next series, so some of the team — mostly the younger players who hadn’t yet cut their teeth in the league — had made the mistake of assuming that the rest of the round would be smooth sailing. They should have known better, Cass thought ruefully as the Lightning scored two minutes before the first intermission to even the score at 1-1. Why couldn’t this be the round before, filled with confidence and coordination and laser-focused passing on every line? Why couldn’t it have been the celebration after? 

---

May 3 (tues)

 Winning a game sometimes called for going out. Winning a series almost definitely called for going out. And winning a series in Game 7 that sent your team to the conference finals for the first time in recent memory called for going out, and going out hard. As much as Cass would have loved to get as hammered as the rest of the group, especially considering the stress she was under with finals and graduation and her job offer piling up, they didn’t want a repeat of the afterparty from the All-Star Game, and Cass still had school the next day. So, she had committed to limiting herself to three drinks. “I want to be tipsy, not shitfaced,” she had explained to Paige on the drive over. Tito had driven his car over, Paige volunteering to DD so the boys could let loose and everyone could let off some much-needed steam. 

Someone had already opened up a tab for everyone by the time their car had gotten there, and it wasn’t ten minutes before they had claimed a few couches in the corner and Cass had a caipirinha in her hand. She was a little worried that Mat’s tolerance had tanked in the past few weeks; he hadn’t really drank since before the concussion and it was their first time at a bar in a few weeks regardless. Mat noticed her nervous glances out of the corner of his eye. “I’m fine,” he reassured her. “I specifically asked the doctors if I was good to drink at my last appointment and they said I was in the clear.”

Cass giggled, sipping her drink. “You asked your doctors if you could drink alcohol?”

“What can I say?” Mat shrugged. “I wanted to go out and get lit with friends, can you blame me?”

Cass’ giggles had evolved into full-on belly laughs. “Lit? What are you, sixteen?”

Mat’s cheeks reddened in what was probably a combination of alcohol and embarrassment. “My cousin said it once.”

Cass headed back over to the bar a few minutes later for another drink, leaving the boys to talk amongst themselves with the occasional interruption from an excited fan. On a high from the win, the team were more than happy to take photos and have quick chats with anyone who stopped them, and thankfully weren’t mobbed by the crowd inside the bar. For the most part, Cass and her relationship with Mat had been able to fly under the radar — well, as much as she could being Mat Barzal’s other half. Her Instagram hadn’t been private since college, and while a fair few fans and fanpages followed her, it had all remained mercifully low-key. Waiting at the bar, she resigned herself to scroll through Twitter for a few minutes, knowing it would be a little while before the bartender got to her. 

“Are you Cassidy Shaw?” Cass’ head turned slowly towards her right, where a short blonde girl looked at her with a shocked expression. 

“Cabrera Shaw, but yes?” She answered slowly. 

“Sorry!” The girl apologized, “I didn’t mean to be weird or anything. I follow you on Instagram, it’s just so weird to finally see you in person.” Cass gave a nervous laugh. She had fans? On Instagram? Who were excited if they met her in real life? 

“One Southside and whatever your favorite IPA on tap is, please,” Cass said to the bartender who had just leaned over the counter to get her order. “Thank you? You’re welcome?” Cass smiled awkwardly.

“I just wanted to say that I think it’s super cool how you’re not a typical WAG or anything. My name’s Sierra, I’m a junior at St. John’s. I’m applying for law school next year. It’s just, like, awesome to see a woman being successful in her own right apart from her partner, especially when they’re in such a visible position and it’s not what’s expected of them. I’m sorry — I’m rambling, aren’t I?” 

Cass laughed, a genuine one this time. “No, you’re totally good. Don’t worry. That’s really sweet of you to say, thanks a lot!” She sipped the Southside the bartender had just handed her, sliding Mat’s beer over. “Yeah, I have so much respect for the other women who choose to do more philanthropic work or be stay-at-home moms, but that’s not what I feel pulled to. Right now, at least.” 

“Right, totally,” Julia said, grabbing what looked like a rum and coke from the other bartender. “Anyways, I should let you get back to the celebration. Tell the team congratulations, it was a great game to watch!” 

Cass picked up the other glass, nodding. “I will. Thank you for your kind words, that was sweet of you to say.”

“Anytime!” Julia chirped happily. 

Cass walked carefully back over to the group, keeping an eye on the drinks. She handed Mat’s beer to him. He looked up curiously, taking a sip. “Something hold you up at the bar?”

She shook her head, then nodded, then shook it again. “Kind of? I think I just had my first fan encounter.”

He laughed, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Comes with the territory, babe.”

---

The game was scoreless through the second period, which didn’t help the tension in the stadium or Cass’ blood pressure. She and Paige had decided to get actual seats for the game, which Mat and Tito were more than happy to arrange. The Islanders were doing well through the first half of the third period, other than a little bit of messy passing the lines were good. But good wasn’t good enough sometimes, good wasn’t close enough to score and give them the lead. Cass’ heart sank as soon as one of the defensemen, she wasn’t sure who, made a turnover in the neutral zone to give the Lightning the puck. Kucherov picked it off, skating past the defenders and around the goal while the rest of the line nearly tripped over themselves trying to skate back in time. 

She was on the edge of her seat as he wrapped around the goal, silently praying that Varlamov would somehow be able to get a piece of the puck with his blocker or that it would have one of those one-in-a-million deflections off of the post. You could hear a pin drop in the stadium as everyone waited for the shot; tall of the sudden, time seemed to move like molasses. And then the puck went in, the red light went on, and the scattered sections of blue-and-white clad Lightning fans threw their arms up in celebration. 

Cass allowed herself exactly ten seconds to hold her head in her hands. There was still seven minutes, thirty nine seconds left. There was still time. Then there was five minutes, forty-two seconds left, and Maroon got two minutes for tripping, and that was their chance. That was supposed to be their chance. But then the penalty came and went, and it was three minutes left. Two minutes left. They pulled Varlamov at one minutes fifty-eight seconds left, and then it was the last shift. Forty-nine seconds left, and it was time for a Hail Mary. Out of habit, Cass’s lips began moving in the prayer. Hail Mary, full of grace...It was a holdover from her lacrosse days, when they were down in the last quarter with seemingly no hope in sight. It didn’t always work, but it sometimes did. It didn’t work that night. It didn’t work because the clock ticked down to zero, the score was still 2-1, and the Islanders had lost. They were out of the playoffs. Fans began shuffling out of the rink, shoulders slumped and heads down, as Cass bit her lip and tried not to cry. The team had worked so hard for this. God, they had worked so hard. And if she was taking it this badly, if it was affecting her this much, then she couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like for the guys on the team. 

Paige turned to her after a few minutes, when there were only a handful of people still left in their seats and the Zambonis had come out to resurface the ice one last time. “We should probably get down there, do you think?” She asked softly. Cass nodded. She was referring to the tunnel, outside the locker room where everyone usually got to greet their partners with kisses and hugs and words of congratulations, but where the mood would be profoundly different on that night. Cass grabbed her bag and straightened out her jersey, squeezing Paige’s hand. Neither of them really knew what the environment was going to be like after such a devastating knockout; Paige had started dating Anthony the summer before, and Cass obviously had even less experience. They had dealt with losses, they had dealt with disappointments and losing streaks and points droughts, but this was something new entirely.

They rode the elevator in silence before walking down the corridors to the room, where the rest of the WAGs and other family had congregated. Kerry rubbed her shoulder sympathetically as Lauren walked over. “We in the Islanders family have a lot of experience with getting knocked out of the playoffs,” she said with a weak smile, trying to crack a joke, “so here is how it usually goes. The guys should be coming out in a few, it takes longer than usual because the media typically has some end-of-the-season wrapup questions and Trotz and Anders will probably make speeches or say something. Some others might too.” The two women nodded. “Don’t treat it like just another loss, but it’s also no good to hover too much. It’s obviously a real disappointment, so it usually takes a week or so before most of them bounce back to being their normal selves. They know what coping mechanisms work best for them. Most will hit the gym more, read or cook if they’re into that, something to get their mind off of it. Obviously they’re still players and still want to know how they can get better, so they might want to go over tapes of the games and make notes of where they went wrong. That’s fine, but don’t let them beat themselves up about it too much. This was a hard series, and Mat especially,” she gestured towards Cass, “tends to be more than a little bit of a perfectionist.”

“I’ve noticed,” Cass said. 

“One last thing,” she continued. “Let them process, let them cope, but a loss not an excuse for them to treat you any worse, any less kindly. Be understanding, of course. But don’t take any crap from them, regardless of the circumstance.”

“Thank you,” Paige said gratefully. Cass echoed her sentiment. The next ten minutes were filled with checking emails and making half-hearted conversation before the team started to trail out of the room. Embracing their partners and families, most couples exchanged no more than a few words before turning down the hall that led to the players’ parking lot. Paige left with a squeeze to her shoulder and a promise to get coffee the next week before grabbing Tito’s hand and guiding him towards the cars. 

Unsurprisingly, Mat followed right behind. He hadn’t combed his hair after his shower, the top button of his dress shirt was undone and only haphazardly tucked into his pants. Mat had been on the shift when Kucherov scored, and if there was anything she knew about her boyfriend, it was that he’d take it personally. He dropped his bag on the ground as she embraced him, and the thud against the concrete floor felt as if it could echo all the way across the Long Island Sound. 

“I’m so proud of you, Mat. So, so proud. I know this didn’t end how you wanted it to, but you worked so fucking hard to get here, and that’s what I see. That’s all I see,” she whispered. 

Mat wasn’t crying, but his breathing was labored nonetheless. “I just feel...I feel like I let everyone down. I wasn’t supposed to be that far up on the ice, and if I hadn’t, maybe I would have gotten back in time to steal the puck, or check him or something, or…” He trailed off. 

Cass sighed. “I know, chou, I know how you feel. But just try to remember that this is a team sport. You win with the boys, you lose with the boys. Do you get mad at Tito when he makes a bad play? Or Jordan, or Anders?” Mat shook his head. “It’s the same way with you. They don’t stop being proud of you or think you’re any less of an incredible player because you made a bad decision. Bad decisions get made all the time, and it doesn’t have to reflect on the person who made them. It’s a hard game, love, but you did your best and that’s all anyone ever has a right to ask of you.” 

Mat’s thumb rubbed against the small of her back. “I know I’ll be fine, eventually. I mean, we’ve all dealt with this before. It just seems different this time, because we were so close to actually making the finals. It seems kind of silly to say since I know I’m only 23 and I know I’ve got so much time left to play, but,” he took a shaky breath, “I look at all the veterans, all the amazing players whose entire careers have gone by without ever having gotten the Cup. Lundqvist and Thornton and Marleau and all of these legends. And it sounds kind of selfish and naive, but I don’t want to be one of them.” 

They stood like that for a few more minutes, just holding each other, before either spoke again. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Cass murmured to Mat as she carded her hands through his hair. She felt a tiny, almost imperceptible nod against her shoulder. Her bag had her laptop, books, and chargers. She had a whole drawer in Mat’s room by then, a combination of stray shirts that were his-turned-hers, a few pairs of leggings — they took up an entire drawer of their own back at her apartment — and balled-up socks from her one unsuccessful attempt at doing the laundry in his building. She had a spare box of tampons in his bathroom, her floral shampoo next to his 2-in-1 Old Spice. No matter how hard she pushed, Mat remained oblivious to the benefits of having separate shampoo and conditioner. 

He pulled away, reaching into his pocket and handing over his keys. “Do you mind driving?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. Whatever you need.”

The ride back home was about forty minutes, and it was almost halfway through before either of them spoke, the lull of the 80s rock channel filling in the silence. “Where’s your head at, Mat?” She asked carefully. 

He was looking out the window, distracted. “Hm?”

She repeated the question and he tensed slightly, leaning back into the passenger seat. “Just feeling kind of...confused about the whole thing. Seems like I’m being pulled in a thousand different directions one day, but then all of the sudden something like this happens and I’ve got nothing. It’s overwhelming. I know I have a life outside of hockey, I know it’s not all of who I am, but sometimes it seems hard to believe that when it seems like that’s all I’m recognized for.” Keeping one hand on the wheel, Cass reached over to cover his hand with her own. His fingers held onto hers like a lifeline. 

“You’re right, you know?” She said as they passed into the Queens-Midtown tunnel. 

“About?”

“Being so much more than people perceive you to be. I get that, it’s like that for me too sometimes. And Mat, you are so much more than ‘just a hockey player.’ You’re a good son and an amazing brother to Liana, and an awesome friend to Tito and the guys on the team and everyone back home. And,” she added, cracking a smile, “you’re a pretty good boyfriend too.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Just pretty good?”

“I didn’t want to fluff your ego too much,” Cass said. “But seriously, Mat. You’re incredible entirely on your own merit. You care so deeply for the people in your life and you love so hard, and it’s an honor and a privilege to be able to witness that firsthand.” 

Mat bent down to the center console, brushing a kiss over her hand. “How do you do it?”

Now it was her turn to question. “Do what?”

“Always know the right thing to say.”

“I don’t,” Cass admitted. “And sometimes I get it wrong. But I know I love you, and I don’t want to see you hurting if there’s anything I can do about it.” The car exited the tunnel into the dotted lights of a Manhattan evening. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “if there was an Oscar for pep talks, I’d have to give it to you, hands down. No offense to any of the guys on the team.”

She laughed, stopping at the light. Right on red wasn’t legal in New York City, a rule she found out the hard way two months after moving. “I’m glad it helps.”

“It does,” Mat said softly. “It means the world to me that you care enough to do it. You mean the world to me.”

Her cheeks heated. “You sure know how to flatter a girl, eh, Barzal?”

“I meant every word.”

---

May 20 (thurs)

 She was done. After three years, six semesters, dozens of classes, and hundreds of hours studying, Cass had just finished her last final of law school. Her classmates stumbled out of the lecture hall, not entirely believing that all of their tears and heartache and hard work had come to a head in such an anticlimactic fashion. Turning on her heel, she walked south. It was just before seven, and her friends had a group reservation at some ridiculously extravagant French wine bar. It was Les’ idea, who had a penchant for all things expensive and who had made the reservation months prior because “you never know, John Mayer could book the whole place up and as much as I love dollar slices, we don’t want that to be our only option for what’s supposed to be a very prestigious celebratory dinner.” Les, Fiona, and Samaira were coming, along with Daniel, another editor on the law review, and Robin, one of Cass’ friends from first-year criminal law and the president of the Women’s Law Association. She had initially been wary about inviting Mat; it wasn’t that she didn’t think he’d get along with her law school friends, but she didn’t want him to feel out of the loop. After Les had announced that he was bringing his boyfriend, Xavier, Cass had extended the invite to Mat as well. 

It was only a ten minute walk, and the hostess directed Cass to their table, where she realized that she was the last one to arrive. “Don’t worry,” Robin said, “we’ve just been interrogating your man.” 

Cass scooted in next to Mat, kissing him quickly before rolling her eyes. “I hope you haven’t been too hard on him.”

Mat smiled. “Nah, they’ve been good. But being questioned by six lawyers who all seem very adamant that I don’t deserve you —”

“You don’t,” Samaira cut in, though it was clear she was joking. 

“Was more than a little intimidating,” Mat finished, handing Cass the menu. 

“Order whatever you want, I’m paying,” Daniel said as he flicked through the wine menu. “Well, technically, my parents are.” Daniel came from money; his mom was a partner at a firm in Chicago and his dad was a law professor at the University of Chicago. “If they’re going to insist on sending me to law school and sheltering me my whole life, the least I could do is take advantage of their generosity,” Daniel said, plunking his credit card onto the table. Fifteen minutes later, the group was sharing plates of escargots, crab tartine, and roasted cauliflower; twenty minutes after that, entrées were served. Mat had recognized the waitress’ accent and was chatting to her in French in between plates. Cass sipped on her wine, a pinot noir, and took a moment to look around the room, a moment to relax. Two more days, and she graduated. Everything that she had worked so hard for was finally coming to fruition. She still had to pass the bar in July, sure, but for one night — for a few days, really — she was going to let herself finally rest in the ability of her accomplishments. 

Dessert was maple bourbon crème brûlée with Sauternes, and Mat may have had a little too much fun breaking the caramelized sugar. Cass was full of good food and conversation; after everyone was done it was after nine. Les, Daniel, and Xavier had decided to get drinks, but Robin had barely slept at all that week, Samaira was going to watch a movie at her boyfriend’s, and Cass and Mat had to wake up early to get her grandparents from the airport. Mat took her hand as they walked towards the subway station. He had parked a few blocks away and offered to drive Cass back to her apartment, but she didn’t want him to go out of his way and all things considered, taking the subway at night had become something of a routine for her. 

They walked down Manhattan Avenue, resting in the kind of comfortable silence that only came with being with someone who really gets you. Cass had decided not to take the Hong Kong job the week prior. It was just too much distance from her family and Mat, and while the job seemed interesting enough, it wasn’t the kind of position she thought she could really be happy in long-term. “Have you figured out what you’re doing yet?” Mat asked as they turned the corner. “I’d say you should just move in with me and become a full-time housewife, but something’s telling me that’s not exactly the kind of opportunity you’re searching for.”

 Cass laughed, bumping him with her shoulder. “Tempting offer, the housewife thing, but I think I’m going to have to pass. Plus that would necessitate you wifing me up.” 

Mat kissed her head. “All in due time, pretty girl.” “But anyways, about the job search.” Cass said, a smile playing on her lips. “I was going to wait until graduation to surprise you, but since you asked��” She paused for dramatic effect. “Chris offered me a job. Permanently.” 

Mat stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Chris? Like Islanders Chris? Lawyer Chris?” 

She giggled. “Yes. Islanders lawyer Chris. You’re looking at the new Associate Counsel for the New York Islanders, Mat.” Mat damn near hollered in celebration, picking Cass up and spinning her around before pulling her into what was very possibly one of the best kisses of her life. Cass barely took notice of the tourists watching them from the side or her own public display of affection. It was New York City. They had seen weirder. 

It felt like a weight had been lifted off of Mat’s chest. He was being honest when he said that he wouldn’t have done anything to get Cass to stay, it just wasn’t his place. But he also would have been lying if he had said it would be anything but heartbreaking to see her leave. It was like he told Tito. Not even giving the future a chance to work itself out would be worse than a breakup. And with any luck, they’d never have one of those either. They rounded the last corner, steps down to the subway in sight, when Mat remembered what he had wanted to ask her but had been interrupted by her news. Her incredible, perfect news. “What would you think about spending some time in Canada this summer?”

Cass, seemingly oblivious, answered, “Oh? Like as a vacation?”

He shook his head. “No, like in Coquitlam with my family.”

“You want me to spend the summer with you and your family?” Cass asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah, only if you want to, of course. And I’m not sure when the job with the team starts, or…” He looked down.

Cass smiled. “I’d love to, but are you sure it isn’t too much? I don’t want to feel like I’m intruding on family time, I know you don’t get a lot of time with them since you’re here most of the year. I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to bring me around just because we’re together.”

They stopped by a lamp. Cass leaned up against the post. “Cass. My parents have made it very clear to me that you’re family, and that they’ll have my head if I’m ever dumb enough to let you go.” She snickered. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t intend on ever letting that happen. My family loves you, my sister thinks you’re way cooler than me.” 

“She’s got good taste,” Cass said, tilting her head.  

Mat laughed. “She does. She told me you guys were texting the other day about the guy she’s interested in, giving her advice. Sure, it was my idea to invite you, but they were so on board from the moment I mentioned it. Plus, my friends back home are getting annoyed with me because they haven’t met you yet with how often I talk about you.” 

She bit her lip. “How long were you thinking of staying?”

Mat shrugged. “Leave in a couple weeks, I usually stay two months or so, so until sometime in August?”

“I’d have to fly back to take the bar in July, and I’d still need some time to study while we’re over, but my contract doesn’t start until the end of August, so…”

“You’ll come?” Mat smiled hopefully.

She nodded. “I’ll come. I’ve never been to Canada before, did you know that?”

He shook his head, leaning in and brushing a kiss on her hairline. “You’re going to love it.”