#ALSO WOW IS IT WEIRD TO HEAR MYSELF COME OUT OF A SPEAKER

[windwardstar]

I HAVE GOTTEN THE MICROPHONE TO WORK!!

[max33imagines]

17. ‘I know you still love me.’ — Max Verstappen X Reader. Part 3.

"Max, what do you want?"

"Y/n don't hang up!! I've tried to call you like 50 times!"

"Is spamming my phone your idea of making it up to me?" She asks, no amusement to be heard in her voice.

"No, of course not. You didn't answer any of my texts." That sounds ridiculous the amount of times I've tried to call her.

"I've been working Max, what do you want?" Y/n getting irritated isn't going to help me right now.

"I'm sorry for calling so many times, I just wanted to know- well wanted to ask if you'd uh- well, if you'd like to go on a date with me?" Why are my palms sweating, she's already my girlfriend.. well kind of.

"Not really, no."

"Don't hang up!!" I say as I hear her put the phone against the table. Unless she's got me on speaker? Who is she with? Get it together Max.

"How can I fight for us and win you back if you won't talk to me? One date, please Y/n just give me a chance." I hear her sigh, clearly thinking about whether she should give in or not.

"Fine. One date." Yes!

"Friday?"

"Friday."

"Thank you Y/n, so much! You won't regret-" .. did she just hang up on me?

Hotel irons never work the same as the one you have at home. Fact. I swear I've been going over the same spot for 20 minutes now and it still looks as creased as before.

I can't help but feel nervous. I knew that proving to Y/n she can trust me again wouldn't be easy, but I'm trying. It's been a couple of weeks since I said I'd fight for her, one of her rules was that I stayed at the hotel. They say the people you love the most, you hate the most. It's like she's got me on strings and I'm just waiting until she 'rewards' me by allowing me to go back to my own home. I deserve it.

I'm taking Y/n out tonight, we would always go for walks on the beach before things between us got so messed up, so that's what we're doing. Is a shirt too much? Fuck it, I've spent 20 minutes ironing this, I'm wearing it. I put the shirt on, realising it's cold and I never actually turned the stupid thing on. It's too late now I'll just have to hope she doesn't notice. I grab some shoes, trying to tone it down a bit before grabbing the bunch of roses I got for Y/n, her favourites.

'I'm on my way x' I text, making sure to pat down every pocket to check I haven't forgotten anything. I decided to walk to pick her up, our apartment not being far and the fresh air doing me good since I've been feeling sorry for myself in a hotel room for weeks.

My phone buzzed, seeing Y/n's name flash up having text me back.

'Okay.' It read.

I can't help but roll my eyes, but also laugh a bit knowing she's loving this. What am I even going to say to her? Was this a good idea? Of course it's a good idea, I fucked up and I have to prove to her that she's the one I want. She's the only one I've ever wanted.

Nearly at the apartment I have to try to calm myself down, I let myself in and head to the elevator up to our apartment. My phone buzzes again, she's so impatient, it didn't take me that long to walk over here.

'Are you missing me? x' Kelly. Always fucking things up. The more time that goes by the more I begin to question whether or not I can really trust her to keep my secret. I ignore her knowing full well she'll see I've read her stupid text and not replied. I'm also not wanting Y/n to get curious if my phone keeps buzzing all night. I walk to our door, it feels weird knocking on it, but I guess I'd also feel weird to let myself in. I hear the sound of Y/n's heels against the floor get closer and closer before she opens the door. She looks so beautiful.

"Wow, you look amazing Y/n, these are for you!" I say as I give her the flowers. She's not dressed up nor is she too casual. I can't wait to see her reaction when I take her to the beach, in heels, again.

She smiles and takes the flowers from me as I stand awkwardly in our doorway.

"Oh, thanks Max, these are beautiful! Let me sort these out quickly then I'll be ready to go, would you like to come in?"

I nod and follow her towards the kitchen as she begins filling a vase up with water.

"I didn't know what to wear really so I hope I'm dressed okay? Where are we going, anyway?"

"It's a surprise, you're dressed perfectly fine."

"Just fine?" I can't tell if she's joking or being serious as she puts the flowers in the vase.

"You look beautiful." I say, playing with my hands as I watch her walk past me to grab her handbag. Since when do I have to make small talk with Y/n?

"I'm ready if you are?" Again I nod as I walk towards the door, opening it for Y/n as she walks through.

The elevator ride down, as well as half of the way to the beach, is half full of awkward silence as well as half full of shitty small talk questions. I shouldn't need to hear about how she ran into an old friend at the supermarket last week, I should've been with her.

"Oh Max no!" Y/n stands still as I stop and look back at her in confusion.

"You're taking me to the beach aren't you?"

"It took you this long to figure that out?" I raise an eyebrow and look at the woman in front of me having a strop about going to the beach. God I love her.

"Come on, I'll either hold your shoes or I'll carry you, you're giving me a chance remember?" I reach out my hand, giving Y/n an invitation to hold it but instead she walks ahead of me.

She took her shoes off instead of letting me carry her, she wouldn't even let me hold the shoes, but at least we're together. The sun is just about to set as we choose a space to sit down in, I lay my jacket on the sand and instead of being stubborn and sitting elsewhere, Y/n actually sits on it.

"Remember we did this when I asked you to be my girlfriend?" I ask, looking down at Y/n as she continues to look over the water.

"Course I remember, both of us were over dressed then just like we are now." I laugh as I think back to all of our first dates and how long it took for us to get where we were. And I fucked it all up.

"Do you remember how we tried to squeeze us moving in together within that one week you had off? I still don't know how we pulled that off!" She giggled but quickly stopped when she saw me notice.

"Remember the first race you came to? You asked me to win it for you and what did I do? I won it for you." Y/n looks away from me as I start to wonder if I had said the wrong thing.

"Hey hey hey, what's wrong?" I ask softly as I move closer to her.

"Remember when you fucked everything up?" She snaps. I had it coming.

"Y/n-"

"No Max, you don't really think we were going to avoid talking about it all night did you?" I don't know what I thought. The last time we spoke about what happened I lied to her face, told her I kissed someone else and that I'd fight for her. All she really said was stay in the hotel.

"I'm trying Y/n I really am. I'm giving you space, I'm trying for us to start again and forget what happened!"

"We can't do that, and I can't do this right now. I can't just forget anything happened and pretend that I'm okay!Maybe I was wrong for agreeing to come tonight, or wrong for giving you another chance.-"

"You bought this up Y/n so if you want to talk about it, we're going to talk about it. I'm not having you give up on us!" Y/n scoffed as she got up and began walking off of the beach, I picked up my jacket and ran after her as I see her trying to wipe her tears away.

"Y/n just wait! Shall we not do this in the middle of the street yeah? Please, please talk to me, shout at me whatever! Just not out in the open."

"Why's that Max? You don't want everyone knowing your business right? How's that working out for you?" I know she's referring to the photo, it's burned in my brain as is a lot of other things to do with Kelly. All of the mistakes I made.

"Listen, let's just go back to our apartment and talk about this! Then if you want me to leave, I'll leave." She begins looking through her bag before I catch up to her as she stopped once again.

"I don't have my keys."

"I've got keys at the hotel, we'll go and get them and walk back okay?" I think she must assume I've changed rooms as she nods and begins walking. I know full well if she realised that was the room everything happened in she wouldn't go near it.

The walk was silent, Y/n always two steps ahead as usual, she didn't bother to even put her shoes back on as she walks holding both her bag and heels in one hand. She lets me lead the way to my room as I open the door, going through one of my bags to find the keys to our apartment. When I find them I see Y/n sat on the end of the bed, arms behind her just like Kelly did.

'You don't want one more night?' Is burnt into the back of my head as I look down at Y/n.

"I don't want to go back to our apartment." What? Does she want to stay here? With me?

"What do you mean?"

"You walked out on me last time so I'm going to walk out on you this time." My heart drops as I put the keys on the table next to me.

"I don't want to lose you Max. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. So why are you now the worst thing?" It's like I can see her heart breaking right in front of me.

"You've really broken me this time, I don't know how I'm going to be able to trust you again, Max. I don't want to be some paranoid girlfriend that needs to know where you're going or who you're with all of the time! I don't want that for us!" Y/n is literally sobbing in front of me and I begin to blink frantically to stop my own tears from falling.

"I'm so so sorry Y/n, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I don't care how long it takes or how hard I have to try to get you back but I'm never going to stop. I was an idiot, I know I was, but I'll never do that again Y/n. We can go as slow as you like, on your terms okay? I've not only ruined us but I've ruined you." Y/n nods as she tries to catch her breath, I kneel in front of her as I try and look into her eyes.

"Look at me Y/n. I've never stopped loving you, not even for a second. We can work through this- I can work us through this. Whatever it takes okay?" Y/n nodded again as I wipe her tears away, she doesn't stop me this time.

"Do you mean that?"

"I mean every word baby, I promise."

"But how do I know that!" She stands up and moves away from me.

"How can I ever trust a single word that comes out of your mouth again?"

"Because I'm not stupid enough to lie to you again, okay? I can't lose you again Y/n, it's not happening. If you want me to stay here for longer, I will. If you still want space, then I'll give you space. But I'm trying here baby, you need to try too. Try to let me back in because it's killing me not getting anything back from you."

"You've always insisted I was stubborn." She jokes. We both laugh as we sit on the edge of the bed, looking at each other through teary eyes.

"I'll try. I'm sorry for not trying." I laugh again, she always apologised for the smallest things. I'm the one that's fucked up and here she is apologising.

"But we'll take it slowly, okay?" I nod this time, looking directly at her as she looks back at me.

"And you can take me on more dates. But you have to tell me whether heels will or won't be appropriate!"

"Okay I can do that!"

We sit for a moment as we calm down. I still have a feeling she hasn't gotten everything off of her chest but I'll let her vent that another time.

"Do you remember what you said to me after that date? The one where I asked you to be mine?" Y/n shakes her head as she looks towards me.

"Why don't you stay here tonight?"

"I don't have my toothbrush" she laughs, saying back the same thing I said to her those years ago.

"Then use mine." I shrugged.

"This isn't taking things slow, Max." She says as she looks behind her to the one double bed.

"Nothing will happen okay, it's late, stay here and we can have our re do date in the morning." She looks down as if to think about whether or not that's a good idea. To be honest I don't even think it's a good idea, it's been weeks since I've been in bed with her and I've just said nothing would happen.

"I'll stay here. But only because I can't be bothered to walk home."

"That's the only reason?" I say raising an eyebrow.

"Yep. Only reason!"

I give her some of my clothes to change into and listen to her cringing as she tries to take her makeup off with water and tissues. We put the TV on and decide to order some food to the room. Maybe this was the redo first date we needed. More casual. Just us, watching boring hotel TV and waiting for some boring hotel food. Perfect.

"That was quick" Y/n says when there's a knock at the door.

"They must've known there's a special guest in the room!" I joke as I gesture towards her. She laughs and I head towards the door, Y/n getting off of the bed to help bring everything in.

I open the door and feel as though I'm stuck in place.

"You never answered my text."

[littlepadika]

Calling Home (1) | Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues...

Rating: M -> E in later chapters

Warnings: fem!reader, age gap (legal), praise kink, voice kink, discussion of addiction/PTSD/trauma, no use of y/n, no beta reader, reader is bad at Spanish, Frankie has a sexy voice 😩

Masterlist here

AN: My first fic. Pedro writers have inspired me to finally start writing again 🥺. Concept inspired by the movie RED. I hope you like it ❤️Set after triple frontier.

Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time he called was an ordinary Thursday.

“Veterans Affairs, how can I help you?”

You had been working at the VA office for about two weeks. Fresh out of college you felt lucky to have a job in the first place. You went to school to be a writer but your big idea for 'The Next Great American Novel' had yet to present itself. At least here you had access to the most inspiring stories and interesting people. Men and women who had seen more and done more than you probably would in your entire life. You loved talking to clients on the phone. It was weird but something about only being able to hear people’s voices excited you. You would sometimes write little stories in your head about the people you'd talk to, filling in the details that were unknown.

Your desk accessories reflected your love of books and writing. You had your growing collection of books sitting on your desk sandwiched between baby pink bookends. Next to them was a matching desk organizer filled with your favorite sparkly pens and sticky notes. You had decorated the plain cubicle walls with posters of quotes from your favorite books. You also brought your favorite candle from home. Even though you couldn’t light it you still liked to lift it to your nose once and a while and smell it between chapters. When you weren’t on the phone or scanning documents you would read. You finished To Kill A Mockingbird in your first week on the job and were now halfway through Murder on the Orient Express.

You were starting a new chapter when Frankie Morales called the first time.

You picked up the phone on the second ring already mustering your chipper 'customer service' voice. “Veterans affairs.” You stated your name. “How may I help you?”

“H-Hi. My name is Frankie- uh-Francisco Morales." A deep voice answered you. "I’m calling because I have gotten my benefits check yet. It’s been a month. I was hoping you could tell me if it got sent?”

“Okay Mr. Morales." You flipped on the computer. "Let me check. Can you spell your last name for me?”

“M-o-r-a-l-e-s”

“Okay... let's see.” You clicked on his account. You were momentarily distracted by his picture likely taken when he graduated basic if you had to guess based off the uniform. He looked sweet. Sharp nose and strong jaw balanced by kind eyes and a shy smile. You could imagine how age would continue to soften his expression making him even more handsome. The image was a strange juxtaposition to the voice you were hearing on the phone which was much deeper and rougher. His profile said he was special forces. A pilot. The rest of the information was blacked out. Something you were used to seeing on many people's accounts but even his years of service were redacted. He must have been involved in some dangerous stuff, you thought to yourself. The dates that were not redacted were mostly in Latin America. You clicked over to processing requests. “Looks like the check got sent one week ago.” You informed him.

"I'll look again but I haven't seen anything-" It sounded like he was apologizing when clearly it was not his fault.

"No no. It's probably a mistake on our end." You interrupted. With how shitty and outdated the payroll interface was you wouldn't be surprised if there was a mix up. "I’ll go ahead and let payroll know to send another."

"Great. Thanks." He replied sounding relieved. The roughness in his voice gave way to a smooth baritone.

“No problem. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused. We'll get it sent right away." You hoped he was not relying on this benefit check for anything important. While you could promise you'd fix the problem, the administration was notoriously slow. When he didn't respond you asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Morales?”

“Uh-no" The roughness back in place. "Thank you." He paused before adding your name onto his thank you which made you smile. People usually never remembered your name.

“Alright. Have a nice day and thank you for your service.” You chirped before hanging up. The smile he put on your face lingered for a few minutes as you returned to your book.

The next time he called was exactly twelve days later.

“Veterans affairs” you answered, your routine greeting cut short as your eyes were still on your book.

“Hi- I’m calling because uh I still haven’t gotten my benefits check. This is Frankie Morales.”

“Oh Mr. Morales.” You recognized his voice even before he even said his name. You quickly shut your book, pushing your hair out of your face. Had you been thinking about him? No! Okay maybe you stared at his picture for a few minutes longer after he hung up. Yes, it was probably very unprofessional but you couldn't fight the curiosity. You were trying to rationalize the contrasting sharpness and softness of his features with his voice. How it all worked together. How one person's voice could change textures and colors so easily. You wondered what kind of things this man might have seen on the job. Most of the veterans you would help day to day did not have so many redacted missions and deployments. You were in the middle of Narcos season one so you immediately thought of drugs or something equally dangerous. After much pondering, you had come to the conclusion that Frankie Morales was both insanely attractive and insanely courageous. “Still no check, huh?”

“Nope.” He sighed the sound making the phone's shitty speaker crackle as you held it to your ear.

“Let me just check that it was approved...“ you found his profile again and scrolled to the status page. “Hmm... it says it was sent out last Friday after we spoke. That’s so weird...”

“Yeah. Really weird.” He echoed your frustration on the other end.

Typical payroll, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes. “I'll get another one sent to you right away. I'll see to it myself.” You tucked the phone under your chin and typed out a short email to Mary in payroll letting her know you'd be stopping by her office to explain the situation. You realized he hadn't hung up yet.

“Sorry for the back and forth.” You said, trying to fill the silence.

“It’s not your fault." The earlier irritation gone. "You’ve been really helpful.” His voice sounded warm and reassuring. Less gruff than it was last you spoke. Instead it was that rich baritone that you caught of glimpse of last time.

You feel your face warm at his compliment. It was this annoying reflex you had. Praise always made you blush no matter what context but it was worse when it came from a (you assume) gorgeous stranger.

“And just to verify that your address is correct- you’re on Maple Lane in Miami, Florida?”

“That’s right.” He confirmed.

“Okay. Sent!” You clicked send on the email, which caused the window to close and reveal Frankie’s profile page again. “I was curious-" You spoke before you really made the decision to speak. You didn’t want to overstep but once again your curiosity got the better of you. Honestly, you were just searching for a way to keep him on the phone. The day had been so boring.

“Your profile says you were stationed in Costa Rica.”

“For a bit.” He replied after a moment. He didn’t sound too defensive but there was definitely some tightness in his answer that made you feel bad for asking. Like you were scratching a wound.

“Did you like it? The country I mean.”

“Are you planning a trip?” He sounds a little amused.

“Yeah- well- kind of. It's more a trip in my head right now. I’d like to go there one day. It looks so beautiful.” You sighed closing your eyes trying to imagine the heat on your skin.

“It is." He agrees. "Really humid though.”

“Mm that sounds nice.” You would kill for some warm weather after such a long winter in DC.

“It was too muggy for me at times." He grumbled. "If you do go, stick to the costal areas where it’s more breezy or else you’ll just be sweating the whole time.”

“I don’t mind a little sweat” you shrugged, still thinking of the awful east coast winter you were currently suffering through. The sexual connotation of what you said hit you hard as soon as you heard the statement in its entirety. You felt your face flush again, though the man on the other end would never know.

“I’m learning Spanish!" You announced loudly trying to move the conversation past your awkwardness.

“Wow. Muy impressivo.”

“Si” you replied but after a moment you admit “I don’t really know what you said.”

Frankie laughed loudly on the other end and you couldn’t help but join in, drawing dirty looks from the elderly lady, Donna, working in the cubicle across from you. You ducked your head behind a stack of papers to avoid her glare.

“Fake it till you make it.” He chuckled.

“Maybe you should help me out.” You took on an indigent but still playful tone. “You sound better than duolingo” Your smile widened when he laughed again. His laugh was what you hoped it would be, by all your assumptions from his picture. It was an unencumbered, unburdened, rich sound with only a hit of roughness from the air behind it.

“Tell me you’re not using that dumb app to learn.” he scoffed, saying your name in an almost scolding tone.

“I’m got my thirty day streak today.” You boasted.

“You’ll be a total tourist if you go by duolingo.”

“But the owl is so cute every time I get something right!” You argued your voice taking on a more childish cadence.

“That’s how they trap you, silly girl.” He teased right back. Usually such a condescending nickname would piss you off but something about the affection behind him using it made you feel very differently. You felt warm like you were proud to be silly as long as it made him laugh.

“Then you saved me just in time, Mr. Morales.” You bit your lip. His scoffing and laughter died down on the other end.

“Frankie” He corrects you.

“Frankie…” You repeated it, smiling at how well the nick name suited the voice over the phone. Honest, sincere, and not pretentious at all. Way better than the pompous guys you know with equally stuffy names like “Edward” and “Christopher.”

“So what do you want to know?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts. “Dime”

You started asking him questions in Spanish to the best of your ability. Granted they weren't particularly probing questions. What is your name? What is your favorite color? What is your favorite animal? What's your favorite book? I am reading Gone Girl. He answered them all with patience and amusement, occasionally interrupting you to correct your pronunciation or explain what a word meant. Every time you’d repeat the word back correctly he would say something like “good” or “there you go” or “you got it”. You hated to admit that his kind words and his praise was doing something to you. You didn't even realize you were clenching your legs together unconsciously, almost in anticipation of his next correction or next answer. His low voice so sweet and encouraging against your ear, more tangible when he was speaking Spanish. You just wanted to hear more of it. Would it be this sweet in other situations? Would it get huskier or rougher? If you closed your eyes it was like he was sitting right next to you. It would be all too easy to slip into that daydream and escape the dull office.

Suddenly out of the corner of your drooping eyes you saw a flashing red light on the phone console meaning another caller was waiting.

“Shoot- i’m sorry, Frankie- I have to take this call.” You shot forward in your chair, legs uncrossing.

“Of-Of course. I should let you get back to work.” He sounded a little sad or so you hoped. You felt bad for interrupting him after you both were having so much fun. You wanted to say he could wait on hold but he killed that idea when he said, "I have work too. Technically I'm five minutes past my lunch break."

Your pout turned to a smile. He was spending his precious lunch break with you? Get a grip! you snapped at yourself.

“You’re welcome to call again if you want.” You threw out the offer in a small voice, scared you would be rejected. You peered over the cubicle wall to see if you were still being glared at. Thankfully Donna was away from her desk. Probably out for a smoke. “It’s really boring here and usually no one calls.”

“Maybe I will.” He replied and you could hear the smile behind those words. You felt your heart clench weirdly in your chest like it didn't know how to process the sudden spike in emotions.

“Bye, Frankie.” You beamed.

“Bye”

This time the smile on your face lasted for hours. Frankie’s laugh echoed around in your head, taunting you, sending your mind to the gutter. His voice went from grit to molasses on a dime. You wanted to be the one to bring out those sounds. You wanted to hear his voice bend and stretch and strain as you fucked him. What the hell is wrong with me? you screamed internally. You had never been so depraved and with a stranger no less! You clearly needed to get laid fast because this much yearning would not end well.

Frankie got the second VA check a few days later and this time he didn’t even feel bad about ripping it in half. He was already reaching for the phone to call you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: Message to be added 💕 no minors please!

[queenshelby]

Just Friends - Cillian Murphy Imagine

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: SMUT

Words: 5034

Foreword:

I have never written anything for an actual person. For my own comfort, I will not be referring to Cillian’s actual family and, instead, I have created two small biographies for the Reader and Cillian.

Biography:

The Reader:

The Reader is 24 years old and recently moved to Dublin with her 5 year old son, Max in order to take up a fantastic job offer.

Max’s father isn’t interested in a relationship with his son and separated from the Reader pretty much as soon as she found out that she was pregnant. 

The Reader is a novelist and editor for the Irish Times. 

The Reader’s interests include books, listening to records, theatre and attending live music gigs. 

The Reader has a close relationship with her grandmother who is 65 years old and a writer herself. She also lives in Dublin with her second husband, who is originally from Galway.

 Cillian: 

Cillian is 42 years old in this story. He is divorced from his wife Siobhan and has two kids, Charlie (6) and Hendricks (8).

He lives in a town house in Dublin and shares custody.

In this story, he finished filming Season 4 of Peaky Blinders about three months ago, which is when the Reader first met him.

---------------------------

JUST FRIENDS

Three and a half months ago you moved to Dublin to take a position as editor at the Irish Times. Initially, the move was daunting to you as you were a single mother and moving your son to a different preschool concerned you.

Fortunately, your grandmother was living in Dublin as well and offered to help you with looking after your son, Max. She was a retired novelist herself and you always had a close relationship with her. Having her around was a blessing.

Over the years, you also met some Irish writers and established good relationships with them. Therefore, finding friends in Dublin was not an issue.

One of your best friends was a play writer from London and was working in Ireland at the time, promoting her theatre play called ‘Blessings’. She introduced you to a bunch of people, most of which were working in the entertainment industry in some way or another.

Whilst all of your new found friends were a fair bit older than you, you related to them. You had interests in common and most of them had children, just like you. They understood that sometimes plans had to be cancelled and flexibility was limited. Having children is a commitment which many of your younger friends didn’t understand. You weren’t interested in late nights because a young child meant early mornings. For this reason, you would much rather attend a dinner and board game night as a opposed to a night club.

And this is how you met a very interesting man named Cillian. Three months ago, your friend Orla invited you to a board game night with a couple of her friends. Cillian was pretty much the only other single person in attendance and, since this was a board game that had to be played in teams of two, you and Cillian were paired up with him.

He was funny and smart and very attractive. You had a good time that night and even won the game with your combined knowledge of random trivial facts.

He was a fun person to be around and you had several common interests.

Over the next few months, you spent a fair bit of time together, mostly with other friends but sometimes alone when your friends were doing things as couples with their partners.

Just recently, you went record shopping together and the weekend before last you and another friend of yours would take all of your kids to Dublin Zoo for the day. Your son Max developed a great friendship with Cillian’s youngest son Charlie. Playdates were a common occurrence.

While both of you separately explored the dating world, you really enjoyed Cillian’s company as a friend and he enjoyed yours and you would often chat about the mishaps you encountered and laugh about them. Dates gone wrong was one of your favourite topics.

The last relationship Cillian had was with a co-worker, which was far from ideal. They’ve met on set of one of his movies about a year after he divorced from his wife, but things didn’t go as planned and the relationship didn’t last. It ended about four months ago, being just one month before you met.

The last relationship you had was over a year ago and it also didn’t last as your boyfriend couldn’t deal with the fact that you were a single mum and that your son always came first.

For Valentines Day this year, your friends set up dates for each of you. It was disastrous. Neither of you were interested in committing at this point and you both were rather flustered about your friends’ efforts after you both had told them not to bother.

You were happy singles.

Theatre Night

As happy singles, you decided to go and see your friend’s new play ‘Blessings’ with some of your other friends on the night you all managed to be child free for once. It took a while to organise but was worth the effort.

‘Hi Max, how was preschool?’ Cillian asked as he opened the door to your townhouse for Cillian while you were in the bathroom, putting up your hair.

Max met Cillian numerous times and got along with him very well. After all, Cillian had a son the same age as Max.

‘Good. Do you want me to show you what I made?’ Max asked while you waived at Cillian from the bathroom.

‘Absolutely, show me’ Cillian said with a smile as he followed Max into the living room.

‘Look’ Max said as he held up two paintings.

‘Wow, is that a T-Rex?’ Cillian asked, causing Max to nod with excitement.

‘That’s very cool…he looks super scary’ Cillian added just as there was another knock on the door.

It was your grandmother who was here to pick up Max for his sleepover at her house.

You opened the door and asked Max to get his bag from the living room which you had packed for him earlier.

‘Nan, this is my friend Cillian’ you said as you introduced Cillian to your grandmother.

‘Hello Cillian, I am Margot. I loved Grief is a Thing with Feathers. It was such an intense play’ she said, knowing right away who he was despite the fact that you had never mentioned him to her before.

‘Thank you Margot and I loved By The Sea, it was a fantastic book’ Cillian responded. He read the book after you told him about your grandmother. Your writing style was very similar to hers and he always loved a good book.

‘Oh thank you very much. Now Max, are you ready?’ your grandmother asked.

Max was ready and you said goodbye, giving him a big hug and thanking your grandmother for looking after him for the night.

While Cillian waited in the living room, you finished your make up and slipped on your shoes.

‘Thank you for picking me up. I really have no idea where this place is’ you said as you grabbed your bag and the two of you were heading out of the door.

‘Any time Y/N, it isn’t far from here actually’ Cillian said.

As you were walking to the Arthouse Theatre you talked about all sorts of things, music, childcare and books.

It was a cold night in Dublin and you were probably underdressed for the occasion.

At the Arthouse Theatre you met up with another two friends of yours. They were both married, to each other, and shared three children. Luckily for them, they had a baby sitter that night.

The play was amazing and you all enjoyed it with a few glasses of wine which were served at the theatre. Cillian had good taste when it came to wine and you usually sought his guidance on what to order.

After you left the theatre, you felt awfully hungry. You hadn’t eaten dinner that night.

‘I am starving, is anyone else up for Pizza?’ you asked your three friends, including Cillian

‘We would love to, but only have a baby sitter until 9pm, sorry’ Amanda said, explaining that she and her husband had to head home fairly soon.

‘What about you Cilly?’ you asked.

‘I would love some Pizza, let’s go to Pizzinis’ he said.

Both you and Cillian said goodbye to your friends and made your way to Pizzinis.

As usual, it was packed and there were no table available.

‘Wanna grab them take away and go back to my place? I’ve got wine and you can show me this new album you were talking about earlier’ you said.

‘Sounds good, let’s do that’ Cillian said before ordering two pizzas.

More than Friends

You arrived at your apartment about 30 minutes later and Cillian put on some music. He found this new Irish band he liked and you were really keen to hear them.

‘Hmm Indie…I like it’ you said as he connected his i-phone to your speakers.

‘Wine?’ you asked as you grabbed a bottle of wine from the shelf.

‘Yes please and thanks’ Cillian said as he put the pizzas on the table.

‘I was meant to ask you, how was your Valentine’s date?’ Cillian asked before taking the first bite of the pizza.

‘Oh god, don’t remind me on it please’ you said with a laugh.

‘That good ey? What happened?’ Cillian laughed.

‘He was weird. He basically left after I told him about Max’ you responded.

‘I think that sometimes guys your age might be a bit freaked out by the fact that you have child. I can’t say that I blame them. I couldn’t imagine myself becoming a step father when I was in my 20s’ Cillian said.

‘He was 32’ you responded.

‘Well maybe he was just weird and you are just unlucky when it comes to dating’ Cillian laughed.

‘Yeah, maybe…I am just over dating’ you said…’What about your date?’ you asked.

‘Pretty average. I mean she was nice but had no sense of humour’ Cillian said.

‘Oh what, wait…she didn’t laugh at your Irish jokes?’ you laughed.

‘Outrageous I know. I mean how could she not?’ Cillian joked.

‘Here is to failed dates’ you said as you held up your wine glass for a toast.

‘To failed dates’ Cillian responded with smile.

Over the next hour or so, Cillian and you finished both pizzas and talked about books, including the book you were currently writing, music and embarrassing things your kids had done.

Quite music was playing in the background by then while you talked and laughed together until Cillian brought up a specific book he had read recently, written by a writer named J A Hanson, which he said reminded him on you in a way.

‘I have read all of her books and I really wish I could write romance as well as her’ you said.

‘Her books aren’t exactly romantic’ Cillian responded.

‘Her storylines aren’t romantic, but the character she uses in all of her books involves herself romantically with several other characters throughout the series. The way she writes makes you relate to the character even in these intimate moments’ you explained.

‘She is 60 and probably speaking from experience. I have read in a paper a few months back that she had quite an interesting and adventurous youth in the 70s and 80s’ Cillian said.

‘Free Love…Yeah, I have read this too’ you laughed. ‘Perhaps I just need some inspiration to get over my block, otherwise I will never finish this damn novel’ you said as you poured yourself some more wine.

‘You don’t have to answer this, but when was the last time that…?’ Cillian asked and, before he could finish his question, you interrupted him.

‘That I had sex? Gosh…well over a year ago’ you responded, causing Cillian’s chin to drop.

‘Over a year? Seriously? I mean, surely, a woman like you would get plenty of offers…’ Cillian said, not knowing what else to tell you.

‘A woman like me? What do you mean by that Cilly?’ you asked with a slight giggle.

‘Well, you are attractive, smart and funny. You would get a fair bit of interest’ Cillian responded.

‘So, you think I am attractive?’ you asked with a smirk, causing Cillian to choke slightly on his wine. He regretted what he had said almost instantly, causing awkwardness between you.

‘Well yeah, I think you are an attractive woman’ Cillian said quietly. ‘In a totally objective way of course’ he added, while, just in this moment, you observed his facial expressions.

You observed him drop his eyes to your lips as he said it, and then lower to the place where your shirt opens at the collar, the buttons undone to below your collarbone.

He pressed his lips together. ‘I think I should probably get go…’ he said, and, before he could finish his sentence, you leaned in and kissed him suddenly, like the peck you give a boy you like on the school bus the second before you jump up and get off – a brief bravery without a plan.

He was caught by surprise.

‘Y/N’ he said and, before he could say something else, you apologised to him for what just happened.

‘I am sorry Cilly, I don’t know what just came over me’ you said.

‘It’s alright, I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was inappropriate’ Cillian said.

But, with Cillian’s response, you couldn’t leave it alone and asked ‘So, you don’t think that I am attractive?’ you asked, giggling slightly with some embarrassment.

‘Any man who thinks that you aren’t attractive is clearly blind. But, with that being said, it doesn’t matter what I think, you are 18 years younger than me and it would be wrong for us to take this further. Despite, I don’t want to fuck up our friendship’ Cillian said calmly.

You didn’t know what to say to his comment and, instead of using any words, you ran your hand gently over the side of his perfect face while biting your lip.

‘Just one kiss between friends then, we can blame the red wine after’ you whispered as a comfortable hot feeling washed over you. You felt some sort of attraction towards Cillian since the moment you met him, but didn’t want to admit it to yourself, let alone to him.

‘I don’t know Y/N’ Cillian said as you leaned closer towards him and pressed your lips onto his. You knew he was reluctant but he didn’t push you away.

To the contrary, as you kissed him, his hand came up in a rush to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. Within seconds, his tongue slipped between your lips, whispering over your teeth and began dancing with your tongue.

You noticed the brush of his stubble on your cheek, the press of his lips on yours and the way his mouth tasted, a mix of minty gum and red wine.

It shouldn’t have been so hot, but it was. The taste of him, the smell and flavour, and it made you whimper in your throat. You knew this was one off and you didn’t want this moment to end.

‘Are you ok?’ he asked after he pulled back a little and paused. He was scanning your eyes and there was a cautious considering from his side. You could tell that he was surprised about what had just happened.

‘Yeah, you?’ you said as you couldn’t help yourself but stare into his baby blue eyes.

‘Yes’ he said as he cleared his throat slightly.

There was an awkward silence in the room and you couldn’t stand it.

You build up all of your courage again and leaned over him, pressing your lips onto his once more.

Cillian didn’t hesitate then.

His tongue slipped right back into the same spot than before, before his lips then moved over your face and down to your neck, leaving gentle bites and kisses.

Cillian’s hands were busy touching you at the same time his lips were trailing over your neck.

One of his hands was in your hair at the back of your head while his other hand was moving down to press the small of your back so that your body was pulled forward into his.

As you were exchanging passionate kisses, you could feel the shape of him, the firmness of his body against yours, your legs pressing into his and his chest pressing into your breasts. You could also feel his erection through his jeans, hard as anything, rigid and warm against your tummy.

By this time, you wanted more than just kisses.

‘Sleep with me, just that once’ you whispered.

‘I can’t Y/N, you are 24, it is not right’ Cillian said pulling away from you.

‘It’s just sex Cilly, I am old enough for that’ you laughed.

‘Yes, but I don’t want this to ruin our friendship’ Cillian said.

‘It won’t. There are no strings attached, it’s just sex. Unless you don’t want me’ you responded. ‘Although I think you do’ you giggled as you ran your hand over his pants, feeling his erection.

Your comment made Cillian chuckle.

‘This is a one off, alright?’ Cillian asked, causing you to nod.

‘One off…and it stays our little secret’ you said before smashing your lips back onto his for another minute or two.

After you exchanged more passionate kisses you stood up.

‘Common, I show you my bedroom’ you said cheekily, taking his hand and guiding him towards the bed.

‘Can you help me with this please’ you asked, turning around to face the bed. Your back was now facing Cillian and you pulled your hair aside so that he can open the zipper of your dress.

Cillian unzipped your dress carefully, exposing your black lace underwear.

As you pushed your dress down onto the floor, Cillian began kissing your back and neck, while running his hands over your breasts and stomach, all the way down in between your legs.

You let out a brief moan before turning around to face him and help him pull his t-shirt over his head, exposing his perfectly shaped biceps.

Looking into his eyes, your hand glided gracefully, for once, past Cillian’s belt buckle and into the holy crevice of his Calvin Klein briefs. His cock was hard and ready.

You moved it between my your slowly, relishing his obvious eagerness.

You used the other hand to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, shortly after which he pushed them down to the floor while your other hand never left his warm and hard cock.

After the jeans came off, Cillian pressed his lips back onto yours while using his skilled hands to unclip the back of your bra. The bra also landed on the floor within seconds.

‘Lie down’ he whispered into your ear. You obliged and crawled onto the bed, facing him.

He loomed over you, climbing on to the bed as you scooted backwards further so that he could straddle your hips while you pushed up against him, wanting the rub and friction against you.

Cillian kissed you passionately as one of his hands moved in between your legs.

He could feel your body tensing up as he ran his fingers over the top of your panties

After all, he knew that it had been a while since you’ve been with anyone. He knew to take it slow and give you some reassurance.

‘Just relax’ he whispered into your ear with his thick Irish accent as he edged his fingers over the lace of your panties, his hand leisurely rubbing up and down the length of your squirming crotch, until he pulled your underwear aside and slipped two fingers inside of you.

You could feel your mouth widen and a loud moan escaped you as he teased the full mound of your clit. The stroke of his thumb was purposeful and steady on your firm, dripping pulse while his fingers plunged in and out of you, sinking further and further.

You held onto him tightly as the slipperiness he found made it easy for him to penetrate you with his fingers. You were so wet.

You shuddered at the pattern, shocked to find it could still stun you, unlocking newfound levels of moisture and desire, even when you began to meet the repetition of his thrusts. You naturally tilted and buckled beneath him.

As he was pushing his fingers in and out of you, he trailed kisses down your neck while your hands clutched at his shoulders, scratched down his back, held him tighter to you as I screamed into his skin.

Cillian’s breath grew more desperate and rugged.

‘It seems like we should take these off’ he said, causing you to nod with anticipation.

‘Don’t move’ Cillian ordered as he lowered himself on the bed while removing your lace undies.

Within seconds, Cillian’s lips were an inch away from your crotch, where he painted your inner thigh with tiny and soft kisses.

Cillian pushed your legs apart gently and you knew what would be next. You have read about this many times but this was the first time any man had gone down on you before and you were nervously biting your lip.

You tried hard to relax as Cillian’s lips finally reached your entrance, tasting the evidence of how much you wanted him.

‘Oh god, fuck’ you moaned as his head dove between your legs. His tongue prodded you softly, short licks against your clit.

Instantly, all restraint and reservations you had vanished. You were relaxed completely as his tongue danced and writhed inside of you.

With each skillful stroke, your thighs clenched. But you still needed more and he read you just right; he didn’t stop as you pushed yourself up the bed. Instead, he held you steady, causing you to look down at him and watching his eyes widen as they met yours, reacting to the rush of your wetness.

‘Cillian, oh god…you need to stop, I am so close’ you moaned, not wanting it to be over. You never came more than once so you wanted to feel him inside of you first.

‘That’s good, just let go’ Cillian said quietly with a grin before he continued and slid two fingers back inside of you while whirling his tongue over your clit.

You couldn’t hold on any longer, no matter how hard you tried. Your exhales began to emerge as deepening sighs and you leaned my head back and lived out the fantasy that had flashed through your mind all along.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you moaned as your back arched and a rush of ecstasy flew through your body. You grabbed onto Cillian’s hair as he sucked every drip from you as your orgasm flooded your body.

As you came down from your orgasm, Cillian shuffled himself back up the bed, kissing you passionately.

You could taste yourself on his lips and you were ready for more.

‘I want to feel you’ you whispered after your lips drifted apart and while reaching for Cillian’s hard cock.

‘Do you have a condom?’ he asked, causing you to nod. You had purchased some before your Valentine’s Date, just in case you needed them.

You reached for the bedside table and opened the pack of condoms, handing one to Cillian.

Cillian was quick to get rid of his briefs and put on the condom, before positioning himself on top of you, in between your legs.

He shuddered a great rushing gasp of breath as he entered you. He couldn’t believe how good you felt, so tight.

You felt him push into you then, slowly and carefully, filling you completely.  

‘Cillian’ you moaned as you held onto him tightly as he slowly began to move.

With every thrust, you gasped, whimpered, soft mewling noises, begging for more.

You felt him all the way to your belly button and screamed out with pleasure, your hands taking the heat as he thrusted fast and deep.

As he picked up his pace, you got louder, groans becoming moans becoming shouts, and the bed frame thumped against the wall, louder and faster and louder and faster.

‘Oh god, don’t stop’ you moaned, his skin slapping against yours.

‘You are so beautiful’ Cillian said in between his moans before pulling out of you slowly and lifting up your legs above his shoulders.

He knew exactly that, this way, he would be reaching your g-spot while he was fucking you.

You were slightly surprised by this position but were flexible enough to run with it.

As he entered you again slowly, you let out a loud moan.

‘Fuck’ you moaned in between the high-pitched noises that escaped you.

‘Does this feel alright?’ Cillian asked, wanting to ensure that you are comfortable.

You nodded eagerly and whimpered a shaky ‘yes’ as he continued to thrust into you. He was right at your g-spot and you could barely control yourself.

He slowly picked up the speed and you could feel another orgasm coming on as the tip of his cock kept hitting your g-spot over and over again.

‘Cillian, oh my god, don’t stop…’ you moaned as you held onto his arms tightly.

You began to shake heavily as your orgasm washed over you and tears of joy escaped your eyes.

‘Fuck, Y/N’ Cillian groaned loudly as he felt your walls tightening around him. The sensation coupled with the sounds you were making sent him over the edge and he almost came in sync with you.

As soon as he came, you released your legs from his shoulders and he collapsed on top of you, kissing you passionately.

You could still feel Cillian pulsing inside you when the sudden oddness of what you had done washed over you.

‘Are we ok?’ Cillian asked as he slowly pulled out of you and removed the condom, disposing of it discreetly.

‘I think so’ you said shyly.

‘Good…because I really enjoyed this’ Cillian said as he ran one of his hands over your cheek gently.

‘Me too…plus, I’ve got some inspiration for my book now’ you said cheekily.

‘I am glad to having been of assistance. Make sure you credit me in the end notes’ Cillian said jokingly.

‘Hmm, if I did, it may become a best seller…Sex Scene Inspired by Cillian Murphy’ you said with laughter, causing Cillian to laugh also.

‘I should better get home’ Cillian said as he was playing with your hair. He really didn’t want to leave, but he felt as though it was inappropriate for him to stay the night.

‘You can stay here if you like…’ you offered, but Cillian declined.

After all, this was supposed to be a one off. You are nothing more than friends, or are you?

You accepted Cillian’s decision to leave and weren’t upset by it. You enjoyed your time with Cillian and slept well that night, snugging up in the doona which smelled like his aftershave.

Finishing the Book

The next morning, you got up early to begin writing the intimate chapter of your book. This was the chapter you had struggled with for a while and you finally felt comfortable writing it. If readers would know that, in this particular scene of your book, you were basically reliving your night with your friend, Cillian Murphy, that would be scandalous.

So, you decided to make sure that no one would ever find out about your little adventure.

Unfortunately for you, your grandma seemed to have a good sense of what was going on.

She was on time as usual and dropped Max back at your house at 10am.

‘Had a good night my dear? I can see you are working on your book.’ She said.

‘Yes nan, the play last night was lovely. It has given me some inspiration’ you said.

‘The play has given you some inspiration to write about orgasms?’ your grandmother asked with laughter as she read the screen on your lap top.

‘Nan! Oh my god, don’t read what I am writing’ you said with embarrassment.

‘Oh dear, it’s alright. Believe it or not, I used to write novels myself with a little hint of filth now and then. But, somehow, I don’t think that it was the play that gave you the inspiration to write this little naughty chapter. By looking at the bruises on your neck, perhaps it was your friend Mr Murphy who gave you this inspiration?’ your grandmother said with sarcasm.

‘Nan, no Jesus, please’ you said as your face became flushed.

‘Don’t be embarrassed dear’ your grandmother said. ‘It is good for you. I mean, he is handsome and I saw the way you looked at him yesterday evening…and the way he looked at you’ your grandmother continued.

‘There is nothing between us nan, we are just friends’ you explained with total embarrassment.

‘Alright dear, whatever you say’ your grandmother said, not believing a single word that came out of your mouth.

‘I better go, I have lunch with Alma later… I love you my dear’ your grandmother said before heading out of the door.

‘Love you too nan’ you said.

 WHO WANTS A SECOND PART OF THIS?

[jisungsplatforms]

[Chapter IV: You F*cking Minx!]

Pairing: Producer/Music Major! Han Jisung x Photographer! fem! reader

Genre: NSFW! Smut; non idol au, college au, strangers to lovers

Warnings: Mature Content! strong language, masterbation (m&f) (only implied this chapter), discussion of kinks, good old nudes & teasing Jisung ;)

Chapter Word Count: 2.8k (lol minus the emojis cause APPARENTLY, they count on docs)

Taglist: @hyunjeongins @seungstarss @es-kay-zee @hyunjinsplaything @formidxble @freckledquokka @lbxgsunshine @cartierbin @solistired @rainbowmagicpixecorn @http-hyxnjxn (want to be added? send an ask or a dm! <3)

You were starting to think that touching yourself every night was rather unhealthy...

It’s been over a week since you and Jisung met—a week since the both of you started your unspoken arrangement. Breathing heavily, you laid limply on your untidy bed, the only source of light available was the moon’s rays peeking through your curtains. The lower half of your body was completely rid of any clothing; the only thing covering your skin were splotches of your essence. Your phone then lit up with a notification from ‘Hannie Bear’.

1 new message(s) from Hannie Bear 🍯🧸

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: u okay baby? do u wanna sleep now?

Using your unsoiled hand, you grabbed your phone and typed as best as you could.

Me: Nah, I still have a little bit of energy left in me

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: really? cool lol

let’s chat for a bit

Me: Sure. Just hold on for a sec

You sat up and wiped your hand on the towel laid under you. Swinging one of your legs off the bed, you used your toes to pick up your garments from the floor, and quickly put them on. Two new notifications from Jisung appeared on your screen. You read his messages as you threw your dirted towel onto the floor.

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: aight.

actually you know what? just call me please!

You laid back down and tapped on his icon, which now consisted of a selfie of himself from when he ‘needed to use’ your phone a few days ago, at the top of your screen to switch to the call screen. Your phone rang several times before Jisung answered. Through the phone, you could hear the faint sound of rustling and a groan.

“Hey,” he greeted with a raspy voice. You instinctively smiled when you heard him.

“Hey.”

Jisung cleared his throat before speaking. “So I was wondering, since— ah wait. Sorry, my throat’s kinda...”

“No, go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled. “You should get some water too! You know, cause— yeah. After all that.”

You laughed, heart warming at his consideration. “Yeah. Thanks!” Bringing your phone with you, you walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. You set the call to speaker mode before putting your phone down to drink. Hearing the hilarious way Jisung took big gulps of water almost made you choke on your water.

He let out an over-exaggerated ‘ha!’ and said with a funny voice, “Refreshing!” Hearing your snort made Jisung smile. “Okay, so now that we’re both hydrated, I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking.” You hummed to acknowledge him. “So, you know how we’ve been doing this for almost two weeks now, right?”

“Yeah…?” You picked up your phone to go back to your room.

“Okay. Well, we never really talked about, you know, things that we like.”

“Things that we like?”

“Yeah! You know what I mean?”

‘Huh?’ You thought about it for a few seconds before realizing what he was talking about. “Ohh. Do you mean our kinks?”

“There! That.”

You scoffed playfully. “I knew this conversation was bound to happen.”

“Well, then spill, girl!” Jisung said flamboyantly. “Don’t keep me waiting!”

You giggled. “Weirdo,” you whispered, softly grunting when you plopped onto your bed. “Where do you want me to start?”

“I don’t know. I guess just tell me like, what role you like playing in bed, or if you don’t even use roles at all.”

“Well, we’ve masterbated together long enough for you to know that I don’t mind either; sex is sex and it should be enjoyable, whether or not there are sub/dom roles...but I do like being submissive.”

“Oh, right. Nice,” he snickered, “Okay, now what? Vanilla or Kinky?”

“Kinky, all that way.” Jisung wanted to laugh at how fast that answer came out. “Of course, there’s nothing wrong vanilla sex, in fact, it’s very much appreciated in this household.”

“Ahh. Someone of culture. I respect that.” The both of you chuckled. “So, what are some things you want to be done to you?”

“Like, receiving?” Jisung hummed in confirmation. “I guess I like being marked? And being praised and using pet names, but of course, who doesn’t?”

“I feel you, I feel you,” he nodded on the other side of the phone. “I like that too.”

“I also like being tied up.”

Jisung sat up, wide eyed. “Rope-bunny?!”

You guffawed, hearing him so shocked like that. “What? Surprising? Remember, no kink shaming!”

“No no! It’s not like that it’s just-” he sighed through puffed cheeks, “wow, that’s fucking hot.”

“Thanks,” you giggled. “But that’s only the beginning.”

“Shit, there’s more? Holy fuck— please tell me.”

“Overstimulation & edging, I think that’s fucking hot too.” You could hear Jisung’s breath hitch on the phone, making you smirk. “I also really like choking and being able to see myself getting fucked; I think there’s a name for it, but I forgot.”

Not hearing his reply, you snorted before continuing. “And I have the biggest breeding kink ever. You know what I say: the messier the sex, the better.” You stopped when you heard Jisung take a deep breath.

“Whoa, Y/n. I-” he signed. “Let me calm down before I pop another boner ‘cause of you.”

You felt a surge of pride run through you. “What? Too much?”

“Oh, fuck no. Just insanely hot.”

You laughed, adjusting yourself to lay on your stomach. “Too bad. There was still a lot more I wanted to say,” you grinned. “You should tell me what you like then, baby. I need to know how I could please you too.”

“Hmm,” he thought to himself for a while. “So you already know that I like filthy, kinky sex too and that I usually take up the dom role but if I have to be honest. I’ve always wanted to try subbing.”

“Really?” you smiled evilly. ‘How interesting’

“Yup. I mean, I like being babied, so I think I’d really like it.”

“Oh? Would you like to try it sometime, baby boy?”

The line went dead silent for a while, filling you with worry. All of a sudden, when you were about to ask Jisung if he was okay, he whimpered. “Please?” he muttered, and you swore you could already see him pouting. Now it was your turn to take a deep breath.

“Hold on, baby boy. We both just finished touching ourselves not too long ago. Let’s do this another time.”

“Aww...Boo. You’re no fun,” Jisung’s usual cheeky self returned.

You rolled your eyes. “Sorry, but I already came 3 times tonight. Let my vagina rest, Sung.”

“Fair,” he laughed. “Does that mean I get to sub next time?”

“Hm… If you’re nice to me, then yes.”

“Oh baby, you know i’ll be the best behavior if it means getting topped by you.”

Instead of feeling horny, you only felt playfulness behind his words. “Good. I’ll be sure to give my baby a treat tomorrow then.” Jisung cheered giddily, fueling your own amusement. “By the way, what’s with the kink talk? I mean, I knew it was gonna come eventually but still.”

You couldn’t see it, but Jisung shrugged at your question. “Well, if we’re gonna be together, then I need to know everything about you that you enjoy.” Your face dropped, your chest swelling in adoration and alarm. Not hearing a response from you made him panic. “Uh- unless you don’t wanna be a thing! That-that’s fine too...i guess, w-whatever! I just—!”

Jisung stopped when he heard you giggle. “You’re so cute, Sung.” You softly said in content. “It’s getting late, baby. I’ll see you in the morning, hm?”

“Y-yeah! See you in Jung’s class, baby!”

You ended the call then slid your phone under your pillow. Pulling your blanket all the way up to your chin, you squirmed around until you were comfortable enough to sleep. The only thing in your mind was Jisung and how much your relationship with him developed way too fast. It was a little...frightening for your fragile heart.

2nd Period; Mrs. Jung’s Renaissance Literature class. Probably the most boring class ever. Everyday, you regret ever signing up for it.

You begrudgingly walked to class, purposely taking small, slow steps so you don’t have to be there on time. However, as boring as the class is, the only reason why you find it tolerable is because it is the only class you share with Jisung. Looking up, you found yourself in front of your Literature class, much to your dismay. Grumbling, you stepped inside the room to find Jisung already at his (now) usual place at the back of the class, right beside you. ‘Weird,’ you thought, seeing how it’s usually you who comes to class before him. Jisung looked up, feeling eyes on him from the front of the class, and smiled when he saw it was just you. He gestured for you to come over to him; your heart racing as you stepped closer to him.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted happily, watching you take your seat beside him.

“Hi, Sungie,” you replied, setting your camera bag onto the floor under your legs and taking your laptop out of your bag. Feeling Jisung staring at you, you tched jokingly. “Am I that attractive that you can’t keep your eyes off of me?” you laughed. What you didn’t expect, however, was Jisung’s blunt response.

“Yes.”

“O-oh? Uh…”

“I thought I made it clear that I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said truthfully, giving you a bright smile. Your eyes were wide, face heating up at his straight-forwardness. He threw you a flirty wink and chuckled, going back to sit up straight at his own seat. Flustered, you hid your face with your hoodie, tightening the drawstrings to further conceal your blush. From beside you, you could hear Jisung snort, trying not to laugh at you. Before you could scold him, the bell rang and Mrs. Jung entered the class.

Jisung’s drowsy eyes wandered the whole room for the umpteenth time. His ears only shut out the mundane information his instructor was teaching. Something about a Scottish poet named George Lauder being responsible for the advancement of the steel industry or whatever? ‘Man, what does that have to do with the renaissance era?’ It’s only been 30 minutes since the class started and he already wanted to get out of here. No matter how hard he tried focusing on the lesson, the words only went through one ear and out the other. Needless to say, it way too uninteresting for him to retain anything.

His eyes then traveled to your hunched form. He had to resist the urge to pull out his phone and take a picture of your cute face all scrunched up in concentration, your figure engulfed by the oversized purple hoodie you were wearing. In the midst of his ogling, Jisung felt a gentle kick on his right leg. His eyes focused to finally notice you side eyeing him. It was as if you were telling him ‘pay attention or else’. All he did was grin and continued gawking at you.

You rolled your eyes, deciding to not mind him and try paying attention to Mrs. Jung; even if you yourself thought the class was boring as hell. You then feel a warm hand on your left thigh. Since it was just Jisung, you shrugged his hand off of you and typed in the shared doc you both created just to talk in this class. You typed:

‘What are you doing?’

Leaning over to his own screen, Jisung read the message on his laptop then replied.

‘babe i’m sorry but i’m so fucking bored’

‘Me too, but you gotta pay attention, baby boy’

‘hmm i love it when you call me baby boy ;)’

You side-glanced him with a ‘are you serious?’ look while he merely smirked, wiggling his eyebrows as if it would seduce you.

‘Funny. Don’t you dare get horny in the middle of class, Han Jisung!’

‘:)’

Jisung made a quiet sputtering noise as he put his head down onto the table. From the corner of your eyes, you could see him fiddling his platform sneakers with his feet. You restrained yourself from laughing at him. He looked exactly like an annoyed kid on the verge of throwing a tantrum. You shook your head. ‘The poor man is really trying’

Sneakily sliding your phone into your pocket, you stood up from your seat, the chair making a slight screech, catching Jisung’s—as well several other students’— brief attention, to head to the front of the class. Signing your name into the ‘restroom log’, you briefly pointed to the door when you made eye contact with Mrs. Jung, and went to the restroom. You grinned to yourself, thinking about how Jisung would react to his little gift.

The painfully bored boy watched as you left the room. He pouted, his boredom only increased tenfold without you. He went back to his laptop, clicking on another tab to do something, when he felt his phone vibrate from his back pocket. He jolted. ‘Who the hell would text me while I’m in the middle of class?’ Jisung slowly took out his phone to check his notifications. Seeing your name on the screen, he stared in confusion.

‘Y/n? What’re you doing?’ Glancing to see if Mrs. Jung could see him, he unlocked his phone to read your message.

My baby 💘: Remember what I said last night?

Many thoughts, none of which were pg, raced through his mind. ‘What exactly are you talking about?’ He adjusted his keyboard to properly type with one hand.

Me: depends

are we talking about me subbing or your “gift”?

My baby 💘: Hmm sure. You’ll see 😉

Jisung nearly let out an audible ‘huh?’ because of your rather cryptic message. Not wanting to get caught, he hid his phone between his legs and waited for your next text. After almost a minute, this phone vibrated again. Big Mistake…

Strike 1!

‘God, Han Jisung, you fucking idiot!’ The shock unintentionally sent waves of pleasure between his legs, almost coaxing out a whimper from his mouth. He cleared throat, trying to ignore the erection that was threatening to pop up, and inconspicuously took his phone.

Strike 2!

If Jisung died at that very moment, then he wouldn’t even be mad. No regrets or anger whatsoever for his eyes was blessed with the most salacious photo of yourself. There you were, sweater pulled up to show off the lacy red bra that adorned your breasts—your arms deliberately squeezing them together to make them even more tempting than they already are—and pants pulled down enough to show a cheeky glimpse of the matching set of panties hugging your hips. Jisung swore he could feel his blood rushing to his dick and nose; he even went as far as wiping it in case he really did get a nosebleed.

‘Y/n, you minx...’’

Me: baby…

what you’re doing is very dangerous for the both of us

My baby 💘: Oh? Are you sure you didn’t forget what we talked about, baby boy

Jisung anxiously looked back and forth from his phone to his teacher. He covered his mouth when you sent another shameless nude to him. Now it was a picture of your hands cupping your breasts, your bra unclasped, threatening to slide off your shoulders. How you managed to take the photo was beyond Jisung’s comprehension. Though, now that he’s as turned on as a horny 13 year old boy on a porn site for the very first time, it’s safe to say that there was nothing on his mind except you, and you only.

He set his keyboard back to its default mode and put his head down, fingers hastily tapping on his phone to reply.

Me: come on baby

please don’t do this to me

i’m hard. i really popped a boner in the middle of class…

this is fucking embarrassing

Jisung just knew that you were laughing at him, finding great joy in his predicament. He subtly adjusted himself to do something about his hard-on. ‘So fucking embarrassing’ He blushed, biting his lip. He silently prayed to whatever deity out there that his erection was unnoticeable through his sweatpants; he was so grateful that you two sat at the back of the class. His phone buzzed again, it was another message from you.

Strike 3!

He’s out…

My baby 💘: It’s mommy for you today, baby boy 😉😉

Above was a picture of you...Bra hanging from your mouth...Your pearly teeth biting down on one of the straps...Pants off...Panties moved to the side...Showing off your dripping core to the camera...Your fingers threatening to slide inside your core…

Somebody please help this poor man. He might get a heart attack because of you. And if he doesn’t die from that, then it might be because of the rage of sexual frustration he felt when you came back with a seemingly innocent smile on your face. Jisung was just lucky nobody noticed his hard cock throbbing the rest of the session. More importantly, thank god Mrs. Jung is an oblivious old woman.

‘Y/n L/n, you FUCKING MINX!’

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER] 📱 [NEXT CHAPTER]

[jaewin97]

Do you hate me?

You have a feeling Taeyong hates you and Taeyong hates himself for feeling the way he does, especially because of Donghyuck.

word count: around 2100

fluff, misunderstandings, mutual pining (?)

A/N: I kind of quickly proofread it, so sorry if there are any mistakes!

Upon hearing the ringing of the doorbell Donghyuck is quick to run out from his room towards the front door, almost falling on his butt as his socks slide across the wooden floor. 

Taeyong, who was having his meal at the kitchen table, almost chokes on his food at the sudden commotion and turns to watch the younger boy with a bewildered expression, ready to yell at him for running in the dorms. But as Donghyuck opens the door, albeit a little out of breath with a wide grin plastered on his face, he simply closes his mouth again and is quick to straighten himself as best he can as he registers who's at the door by Donghyuck's loud greeting. 

"Baby!"

"Hey cub!" he hears you say followed by a sweet giggle. He assumes Donghyuck has you locked in a strong hug as you let out an 'oof'. He internally curses as he turns back to his food and sees that he had splattered some rice on the table as he was choking. Taeyong quickly gets up and grabs a napkin making sure to clean up as he hears you and Donghyuck walking towards the kitchen. 

"Oh! Taeyong hyung, I didn't notice you were here!" Donghyuck exclaims as he finally reaches the kitchen with you in tow. "YN came to visit me today!"

"Hello" you softly say, as you timidly bow towards Taeyong. 

"Oh um, hi" Taeyong replies as he sets his gaze on you. You looked absolutely adorable, dressed in black jeans and what looked to be an oversized hoodie. As he took in your appearance his gaze lowered down and he realized that your hand was interlocked with Donghyuck's hand. Taeyong felt his face heat up as he quickly looked away and grabbed his plates which still had plenty of food in them and placed them in the kitchen sink. 

"I- I have to go change. Sorry. Um, it was nice seeing you" he quickly said as he looked down and made his way towards his room. A loud slam from Taeyong closing his door resonated in the dorms causing you and Hyuck to slightly jump. 

"That was so weird. He was already dressed" Donghyuck commented as he let go of your hand and made his way to the refrigerator. "Do you want anything to drink?" he asked.

You stood in your spot not understanding what had happened. You thought back to plenty of other times where Taeyong had also abruptly left when you had arrived or when it looked like he was uncomfortable to be in your presence. 

Maybe he doesn't like me? Or what if he thinks I'm annoying? Could it be because I'm younger and he finds me immature or loud when I'm with Donghyuck? All these questions flooded your head and you decided it was best to just ask the man in question. You didn't want him to be uncomfortable in his own home and you didn't want to cause any discomfort with him and Hyuck. 

"I think he hates me." 

You heard a pained groan as Hyuck quickly shot up and hit his head on the refrigerator. 

"Ah fuck" he whined as he turned to you with a pout causing you to walk over and stand in front of him. He slightly bent down to your level as you reached a hand out to rub the spot he had hit. 

"Why do you say that?" Hyuck asked. 

"I'll tell you in your room" you sighed as he stood straight and nodded, motioning for you to follow him down the hallway. 

Once you reached his room, Donghyuck proceeded to close his door and play some music from his speaker in case anyone heard you two talking. You proceed to tell him your thoughts as you both laid in his bed staring at the ceiling. 

"I don't think he hates you. I think it's the opposite but I for sure think you should talk to him about it if it bothers you or if you think it bothers him" Hyuck responded once you were done. 

"What do you mean it's the opposite?" you asked as you turned to face him. 

Hyuck sighed and opened his mouth to answer when his room door opened. 

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I thought Johnny was here." 

You both looked towards the door as you saw Taeyong standing there before he quickly made eye contact with you and quickly turned around and left. 

"See!" you whined as you turned to look at Donghyuck with a pout earning a laugh from the boy. 

"Go talk to him" he exclaimed, shoving you off his bed and pulling out his phone.

"B-but" 

"No 'buts' yn. Do it or else I'll call him in here and all three of us can talk about it" he glared as you begrudgingly walked to his door. 

"You're so evil," you said, sticking your tongue out at him, causing him to smirk and wink at you. 

You exited his room and made your way towards Taeyong's, mentally planning out what you were going to say to him. Before you chickened yourself out, you knocked on his door as soon as you reached it. 

A soft "come in" was heard as you shakily turned the handle and walked in. 

Taeyong stood in the corner of his room watering his plants with his back to you. After hearing you softly clear your throat his head snapped towards you. 

"O-oh yn. U-um what's wrong?" he stammered as he put the water bottle he was using to water his plant down on his desk and wiped his hands on his jeans.

"I um... I wanted to talk to you about something" you gulped.

"Of course! Have a seat" he pointed to his desk chair near him. You timidly nodded and made your way over. You felt like you could taste the awkwardness that was in the air and it caused your hands to begin to get clammy. 

Taeyong muttered a quick 'give me one second' before he walked out of his room and came back in a few seconds later with a dining table chair.  He set it slightly next to the desk chair which you were sitting on and he took a seat. 

"So what's wrong?" he shyly asked, making quick eye contact with you before looking down at his hands.

"Do you hate me?" 

His head quickly snapped up as he stared at you in shock.

"What? No! Why would you ask that?" 

"I just- I'm sorry. It's just whenever I'm near you, you either leave or look really uncomfortable. I just wanted to apologize for making you feel this way and I wanted to ask you so I can figure out what it is I can do to make you feel comfortable" you responded feeling your cheeks heat up as his gaze held yours. His eyes scanned yours over and over as he furrowed his brows and locked his jaw. 

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. You did nothing wrong, you could never do anything wrong. I'm just an idiot. I've just been trying to sort some stuff out when it comes to you- I mean it's nothing like you causing me trouble or anything it's the opposite! I mean- wait! I don't want to hurt you or Donghyuck. I could never do that to him" he rambled.

Your brain was trying to process what just happened. Did he confess? Or are you reading into it? Hurt me or Donghyuck? What? 

"I'm- wait. I'm so confused. So is it just that you don't like me? You're trying to figure out how to be around someone you don't like? If it's something I said or did I'm sor-" 

"No!" he quickly cut you off. "I don't know how to express myself with you. I'm sorry. This is so frustrating. I know what I feel. I know what I want to say, what I want to do. It's just- whenever I'm near you my brain malfunctions and I act like a complete idiot." he confesses looking down at his hands again, noticing they were slightly shaking. 

"Taeyong I don't understand" you whispered. 

Taeyong took in a deep breath and nodded. 

"I like you. I like you a lot and I know you and Donghyuck have something going on and I don't want to ruin it. He's my little brother and I would never do anything to purposely hurt him. I hate myself knowing I could potentially hurt him because I can't control my feelings." He didn't dare move an inch as he finally let out what he had been holding in. He squeezed his eyes shut as he realized you hadn't said anything for almost a minute after he had finished speaking.

"Nothing is going on with me and Donghyuck. " 

Hearing this he finally looked up at you. You were staring at him with watery eyes and rosy pink cheeks, he swore his heart almost leaped out of his chest.

"But you guys always call each other baby or couple nicknames and you're always together and-" 

"He's like my little brother" you cut him off, gaining the courage to reach a shaky hand and grab one of Taeyong's. "I'm a year older than him and since all of you are males and his siblings are young he needs an older sister's advice sometimes when it comes to struggles he may be facing or just asking how to approach girls." 

Taeyong's mouth opened and closed as he processed what you just told him, the feeling of your hand in his wasn't helping him either. 

"so... oh." he let out as he felt his face heat up. 

"I like you too." 

Hearing those four worlds caused Taeyong's world to stop. His heart was beating so fast and he felt like his face was literally on fire. He bravely looked up and met your gaze which conveyed sincerity and determination. Your own cheeks were a darker shade of red and your chest rose and fell at the same rate his did. 

"Really?" he managed to ask in a slight tremble.

"Yes. I have since day one" you responded sincerely. 

"Wow. I- I don't know what to say" he let out a shy giggle "I never thought you would feel the same way. I mean, I thought about the 1% chance that you maybe could see me in a different way other than your friend or Donghyuckie's leader but then I always shook it out of my thoughts. So I really have no clue what to do. My mind and heart are both racing if I'm honest. I think I'm in shock."

You let out a giggle as Taeyong's eyes widened and he placed his left hand on top of his heart. He looked up at you and let out a big smile.

"You're so cute," he said.

"I should be telling you that" you said shaking your head as you felt yourself become even more shy if that was possible.

"You have no idea how crazy you drive me." he whispered as he timidly grabbed your hands in his and slightly leaned forward.

You felt your mouth dry up as you felt him rub small circles on the back of your hand.

"I want to take you out. Can I?" he asked looking up at you with a small smile.

You could only nod as you both leaned closer to one another. Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his cute pouty lips as you swallowed.

"Can I kiss you?" you whispered as his eyes bulged out and he shyly nodded.

You could feel his shaky breath as he licked his lips and placed a hand on your cheek. You slowly brought one of your hands and placed it on the side of his neck, gently running your fingers along it.

You closed your eyes and then you felt it. His soft lips gently molded with yours. Your heart skipped not one but two beats as you realized that you were finally kissing him. Taeyong was in cloud nine. He couldn't believe he was finally kissing you! He wished for this for what felt like forever and now here he was, he couldn't help but smile into the kiss as he finally realized that his wish came true. He could finally call you his, kiss you whenever he wanted and be able to give you all his love unconditionally. This was to be the start of something the both of you would look back on and recount to your future grandchildren. The story of how you both got together and fell in love. 

[gukyi]

the courtship chronicles | ksj

summary: dating has never been anywhere near your list of priorities, but kim seokjin is nothing if not determined. and when he comes to the rescue and accompanies you to your friend’s wedding, he decides to request only one thing in return: for you to let him take you out on fake dates and shower you in fake affection, and show you how much fun dating can be. he just needs to remember to keep the part where he’s been in love with you under wraps.

{friends to lovers!au, fake dating!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, and emotional hurt/comfort! word count: 20k a/n: big, big, big thanks to @aurawatercolor for commissioning me for this piece!! i honestly am so happy with this fic and even happier to give my main man kim seokjin the love and attention he deserves!!! this fic is pretty much slow burn from start to finish, so enjoy!

check out the post-script drabble here!

“You’re bringing a plus one, right?” Cynthia demands on the other end of the line, voice frazzled and breaths quick. “You better, because I already factored it into the wedding budget. There will be food meant for a plus one for you which I already paid for so you better bring one. I paid for it already.” She’s running in circles, trying to make her point. It’s clear she’s got an awful lot on her plate as it is. 

“Can’t I just eat their serving myself? You know I’m a growing woman,” you plead. Cynthia and the rest of her bridesmaids have been on your back about bringing a plus one ever since she got engaged. 

“No, you have to bring a plus one. Even if it’s your mom, Y/N, I don’t care,” Cynthia says. She makes to say something else, but then pauses. “Actually, I do care. Can it please be a date? Even like, someone you met off of Hinge. I don’t know. Not your mom. Don’t bring her. That would be only a little weird,” she corrects herself. 

“Weirder than some stranger I met off Hinge?” You ask pointedly. 

“No. At least they’re around your age. I want to see you applying yourself, Y/N!” Cynthia scolds. “Go out there and find a man! Pick him up off of the street if you have to! Anything!” She rallies. “Being single is cool and everything but being in love is just as fulfilling!”

“Of course you would think that, you’re getting married tomorrow,” you tell her, sighing. Can’t she just accept that you aren’t really looking for a relationship right now? And haven’t been looking for one since you graduated college three years ago?

“I love my future husband, thank you very much. We plan on leading a very full and extraordinary life with our fifteen dogs and eighteen geckos.”

“Okay, Miss We Bought A Zoo,” you tease. 

Cynthia laughs. “Pretty soon it’ll be Mrs. We Bought A Zoo, thank you very much!”

You hear a knock on the door, turning to check the kitschy cuckoo clock you had found at a flea market for five dollars for the time. It’s six on the dot.

“I have to go, Cynthia, Seokjin’s here,” you tell her, already making to hang up the phone as you head towards the door, using your shoulder and ear to hold it in place. “We’re making a family dinner for two, tonight.”

“Bring Seokjin! He’ll charm the shit out of my mom, I just know it,” Cynthia tells you. “Bring him! Tell him to clear his fucking calendar for tomorrow.”

“Bye, Cynthia,” you say as you reach out for the doorknob, twisting it to reveal your grinning best friend with a bag full of goodies on the other side. “I have to go.”

“Send Seokjin my love! I don’t even expect a wedding gift from him! His presence is enough!” Cynthia shouts, loud enough for Seokjin to hear everything despite the phone not even being on speaker. You hang up before Cynthia can say anything else to goad Seokjin into accompanying you to her wedding, sending an apologetic smile his way. 

“Sorry, that was—”

“Cynthia?” Seokjin finishes with a grin. You usher him into your apartment, letting him place his bag on your kitchen countertop as he pulls out two wine glasses to get the party started. You sigh, helpless. “Yeah, I figured. She’s getting married tomorrow, isn’t she?”

“She’s uber stressed, if that’s what you mean to say,” you correct, joining him in your kitchen as you start to unpack what he brought, countless tupperware containers filled with vegetables, meats, pastas. There’s even an entire bag of rice. Does Seokjin really think you have no rice in your apartment? Seriously? 

“I can imagine,” Seokjin agrees with a laugh. “Thank god you and I aren’t getting married anytime soon, right?” With a flourish, he produces a bottle of red wine you had been saving in your fridge for this very occasion, filling up half of each wine glass. 

“I’ll toast to that,” you say, smiling as you hold up your glass. Seokjin swirls the wine around in his own before holding it out. 

“Here’s to not being romantically involved whatsoever!” Seokjin hurrahs, and you laugh at his honesty as your glasses clink together, the sound echoing around your kitchen. “Who says you need to be married to prepare a kickass meal together.”

“You’re in charge of the meat,” you immediately tell him. You’ve never been the biggest fan of handling it. Vegetables are much more your speed. They also don’t get angry at you when you make a mistake cooking them. Besides, Seokjin’s always been the better food mediator between the two of you. 

“Like always,” he teases, giving you a nudge as he pulls the pots and pans from the cupboard beneath the counter and hands you one of the seventeen different cutting boards you have in random places in your kitchen. You don’t know what it is about them, but every single month you find yourself buying a brand new cutting board. They may as well be drugs. “You should really branch out and try cooking beef sometimes. I’ll teach you, hey? So you don’t have to be scared of it.”

“I am not scared of cooking beef,” you tell him sternly, flinching when Seokjin places the meat in the oil-slick pan and it begins to sizzle and pop. 

“If you say so, Y/N,” Seokjin singsongs. “You know, I’d make a pretty good teacher. I reckon I could show you a thing or two about cooking.”

“Okay, Mr. Cooking Is My Passion,” you say, scrunching up your nose. “Just because I can’t make a damn filet mignon does not make me a bad cook,” you tell him, “whose soup do you ask for when you’re sick and in bed with a cold? That’s right, mine!” You poke his chest for good measure, making him put his hands up in surrender. 

“Alright, alright, I concede,” he says with a laugh. “Your soup is delicious.”

“Thank you,” you say, proudly. “How about I make a couple of servings while you cook the meat?”

Seokjin blows a kiss your way. “Y/N, You know just the way to my heart.”

An hour later, you and Seokjin have whipped up an impressive set of dishes, from your homemade vegetable soup to his traditional bulgogi bibimbap, a small bowl of kimchi in the middle of the table accompanied by some sauteed vegetables and a serving of glass noodles. There’s enough to feed a family of four (one of whom could be a ravenous high-school football player) on your table, and yet, you and Seokjin never fail to finish it all. 

Seokjin takes one bite out of his bulgogi bibimbap and moans in delight, tossing his head back as he holds out two thumbs up, chopsticks clanging onto the side of the bowl as he drops them. “Wow,” he says loudly, patting himself on the back. “I’m amazing. Gordon Ramsey wants what I have.”

“There’s no way it’s that good,” you tease, even though it most definitely is that good. Seokjin is, without a doubt, the best chef you have ever met, the best chef whose food you have ever had the pleasure of eating. If he weren’t employed by a publicity company he would almost certainly be the owner of the best restaurant in the city. The New York Times would visit his restaurant and write a five-star review to be published in the paper the next morning. You take a bite of it yourself, chewing it slowly and pretending to ponder its flavor. It’s delicious. It’s never not delicious. “Hmm… it’s alright.”

“‘Alright’?” Seokjin shouts, slandered. “Just ‘alright’?” He slams a fist onto the table in anger. “This is blasphemy! It’s amazing!” Grabbing the knife beside his plate, he holds it under your chin dramatically, glaring into your eyes. “You better retract that statement, or else!”

“Or else what, Mr. Kim?” You say, desperately resisting the urge not to burst into laughter. Seokjin’s not doing much better, lips pursed tight in an effort not to cackle aloud. 

“Or else I’ll have no choice but to eat all of your bulgogi bibimbap for you!” He cries, reaching over with grabby hands to take your plate away from you. 

Just as he suspected, you hold on tight to your plate, refusing to let such good food go into the mouth of someone who has his own plate. It’s then, as you’re playing tug-of-war with your food, that Seokjin finally breaks into chuckles, hiccuping out his laugh as he concedes and lets you eat your food in peace. 

“Just as I suspected, peasant!” He says proudly. “It’s delicious!”

You put a heaping chopstick-ful into your mouth. “It really is, Seokjin. You always do such a great job.”

“I’m honored,” he says, bowing slightly. “Food is what brings people together.” He holds out a piece of kimchi in front of your mouth, and you eat it obligingly. “Speaking of bringing people together, what was Cynthia shouting about on the phone?”

“Oh, just her wedding, you know,” you tell him with a shrug. “The usual. She’s desperate for me to bring a plus one,” you say. Marriage is disillusioning her. She thinks everybody around her should have a love like her own. And while it is a wonderful, fairytale-esque thought, you just aren’t really on the same wavelength. You never have been. “She even factored it into the budget to guilt-trip me into doing it.”

“Why don’t you?” Seokjin asks, downing a spoonful of soup. “Going to a wedding alone can’t be too much fun.”

“I won’t be alone,” you protest. “I’m one of her closest friends. I’ll know a bunch of people there.”

“Yeah, but you won’t have brought someone who, by way of how plus-one’s work, will be obligated to be by your side the entire night. Who are you gonna dance with when Crazy in Love comes on, huh?” Seokjin points out. 

You frown. “I can dance by myself.”

“Yeah, but a plus-one would make it more fun! You guys can dougie, or whatever it is the cool kids do these days. Is dabbing still a thing?” He dabs, just to make a point. It’s cringey and awful and hilarious, all at once. 

“Stop, stop, you’re embarrassing yourself and I’m the only other person here,” you plead. “You and Cynthia are so on my ass about bringing a date, God. I just—I’m not really interested in anybody right now. Dating just isn’t my thing.”

“Has dating ever been your thing, Y/N?” Seokjin asks, even though he clearly knows the answer already. “I don’t think you’ve been on a date since sophomore year of college. Do you even know what dating is, anymore? Love?”

You roll your eyes. If there’s one person who’s a bigger hopeless romantic than Cynthia, it’s Seokjin. The man has an entire bookshelf of romance novels in his bedroom. He waxes poetic about falling in love every other day, about coming home to a significant other, a family, to cook for, to spend time with. He’s been on more Bumble dates in the past year than you can count on both hands and feet. 

“I know what it is,” you defend yourself, “I’m just—I don’t really believe in that, for me. I don’t ever see myself having it. I have friends. My family. That’s good enough. I don’t need romantic love.”

Seokjin scoffs. “What? You mean to tell me you don’t ever want to fall in love? Never ever? Come on, Y/N. Love is great! It makes you feel warm and happy, like one of those giant Costco teddy bears. Those are the material equivalent of love. Haven’t you always wanted a giant Costco teddy bear?”

“When I was five, yeah,” you tell him. “Listen, Seokjin, I get it. Love is great and amazing, I’m just not that interested. You and Cynthia have been trying to get me to go on a date for years and it doesn’t appeal to me whatsoever.”

“What about dating is unappealing?” Seokjin inquires. He’s determined. And you, the best friend, are weak. 

“I don’t know, having to meet new people, talk about yourself, try to see a future with them. It seems so tiring,” you say, sighing. Seokjin looks positively bewildered, because of course he enjoys dating—he’s so charismatic, charming, and outgoing. Even if a date goes poorly he still ends up with a new friend. “I’m just not that into doing that stuff.”

“Psh,” Seokjin says casually, skeptical. “I bet that if you just gave the whole dating thing a try, you might actually like it. You haven’t gone out on one in so long—maybe it’s different than what you remember. The last time you did it, we were all just college students.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you groan. “How exactly do you expect me to ‘give the whole dating thing a try’, then? Last time I checked, I wasn’t particularly interested in anybody.”

Seokjin pauses, pondering for a moment as he taps his chin with his pointer finger. Then, like a smack to the face, it hits him all at once, and in his excitement, he pounds his fist right onto the prongs of the fork by his plate. “Ow, holy shit!” He shouts, excited nonetheless.

“Oh my God, are you alright?” You ask, a little concerned and a lot amused.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he assures you, rubbing the side of his palm. “But what I was about to say, is why don’t we go out?”

You sputter, choking on the soup you had just taken a sip of. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

“Why don’t we date? It’ll be fun!” He says happily. 

“Seokjin, we’re friends,” you say. 

He shrugs, carefree. “Yeah, sure we are. But think about it: since we’re already so close, you won’t have to worry about introducing yourself to someone new. You won’t have to go through the whole tell me about yourself thing, we can just jump right into the dating part! It’ll be fun and you’ll get to see what dating is like past the introductions. How about it?” He asks. 

He thinks it’s brilliant. 

You think it’s ludicrous. 

“But, Seokjin, are we actually going to date? Like, be a couple? Because I don’t know if that’s what I was really aiming for with our friendship today,” you say hesitantly. You love Seokjin, sure, but you aren’t in love with Seokjin. You’ve been best friends since college. Won’t it be weird if you suddenly start dating? And doing other couple-y things?

Seokjin waves a hand around like a nonchalant businessman. “No, we won’t actually be boyfriend and girlfriend, or anything,” he promises. “It’ll just be fake. Make believe! Think of it as a dating test-run. What do you say?”

“You sound too enthusiastic for me not to be worried,” you tell him tentatively. He’s like an energetic salesman. It’s a little frightening. There must be some fine print you aren’t looking at. Something that you’re missing. “Are you sure about this? Like, do you want anything in return?”

“Anything in return to help my best friend find love?” He asks, scandalized. “Of course not!”

You frown. 

“Okay,” he gives in, “maybe some more soup. I’m about to visit my mom and she loves it.”

“Why don’t I just come with?” You suggest. Seokjin’s mom is the second-best chef you’ve ever met. Somewhere along the line, Seokjin took what he learned from her and improved it ten-fold. 

“Even better! Mom’s been begging me to bring you around sometime. How about it, do we have a deal?” He asks, holding his hand out. 

You sigh. He’s your best friend, and all he wants in return is for you to visit his mom with him. What’s the worst thing that could happen?

“Sure,” you say, conceding. “Why not?”

Seokjin’s first order of business as your self-appointed brand new not-real boyfriend, is to accompany you to Cynthia’s wedding as your plus-one. He does actually find a wedding gift on such short notice—a fairly new cookbook from which he had memorized the recipes already, so it was no longer of use to him. Because of course, Kim Seokjin is the only person on Earth who memorizes the one hundred recipes in a book just because he wants to. Where does he find the time?

[May 18th, 3:18PM]

Seokjin: Are we wearing matching colors? Seokjin: Or is that too senior prom?

You: As long as you don’t show up wearing white you should be fine

Seokjin: >_> Seokjin: You know that if I wore white the groom would drop everything and marry me instead ;-)

You: Only because of your charm You: I’m wearing pastel pink! I don’t suppose you have anything in your closet to go with that, do you?

[Seokjin is typing…]

[May 18th, 3:20PM]

Seokjin: Oh, Y/N, you don’t even need to ask twice

An hour later, Seokjin pulls up to the curb outside of your apartment complex in his Volkswagen, which is every bit as charismatic as he is, right as you’re scrambling to tug on your most comfortable heels (as if such a thing could exist!), running late, as per usual. The ceremony begins at 5:30 and you and Seokjin were meant to leave for the venue at four. 

It is 4:19. 

Frazzled, you rush around your apartment movie-montage style, tweaking strands of your hair in the mirror in the hallway and nabbing your bottomless bag on the coffee table. It’s not even really summer yet, but your apartment doesn’t have air conditioning and it’s becoming more and more of a curse as the globe slowly warms multiple degrees over the years. The true loser of climate change, rather than the polar bears, the bees, and coastal cities, is you, who thought renting a place with no air conditioning would be just fine. 

Desperate not to open the door to Seokjin with your forehead dripping, you dab off the beads of sweat gathered by your hairline with the skirt of your dress—whatever, you were going to sweat in it at some point—right as you hear the first knock. 

Seokjin’s fashion choices are usually rather conservative. He does work a somewhat menial half-office job, so he can’t roll up to his desk wearing the exceedingly stylish and exceedingly adventurous clothing that Namjoon and Taehyung wear, which, in turn, limits his closet. Lots of plain or argyle sweaters pulled over dress shirts with the collars peeking out, lots of navy jeans, lots of white sneakers and loafers. The only clothing item Seokjin does experiment with is socks, of which he has an impressive collection, ranging anywhere from corgi butts to Santa Claus. 

You didn’t really know what you were expecting when Seokjin said you didn’t need to ask twice after mentioning that you were wearing a pastel pink dress. He does own a couple of pink things, but as far as you’re aware (and you’re pretty aware, considering you’ve been best friends with him since the beginning of college), it amounts mostly to his sock stash and a couple of sweaters, which he most often wears under denim jackets or over dress shirts. 

What you most certainly aren’t expecting when you open the door is to see Seokjin standing on the other side in a full-on suit, a light grey color that complements the peach in his skin tone perfectly. More so, however, you hadn’t at all anticipated for him to be wearing a perfectly-matching pastel pink dress shirt underneath, complemented by a rather obnoxious bow tie with red hairs littered all over it. 

“Wow, okay,” you say, blinking just to make sure that your eyes are working perfectly. “It’s May, why do you look like Valentine’s Day threw up on you?”

Seokjin opens his mouth to send a witty response back to you, but the moment he lays his eyes on you, it’s as if all of the words have fallen from his lips. He swallows, hands fumbling with the bouquet in his hand. “Don’t say that to me like you aren’t also wearing the most Valentine’s Day dress I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s a pastel pink midi dress,” you tell him, frowning. “At least I’m not wearing something that has cartoon-y red hearts all over it,” you accuse, pointing to his bow tie. 

Seokjin gasps, offended. “Hey! This is my lucky bow tie. It’s never steered me wrong when it comes to love.”

You scoff. “I don’t think Cynthia and her fiancé need your bow tie’s help today. Have you ever seen someone more in love with another person than they are with each other?”

Seokjin pauses. He sighs a little bit, like there’s something weighing on his mind he refuses to divulge. You won’t press. You may be best friends, but you aren’t mind-readers, and sometimes, there are some secrets that have to be kept even from each other. Yours is that when you guys were juniors in college and Seokjin was running late for class because he was desperate to find the last Pop-Tart in his apartment, you had actually eaten it the night before when he was in the bathroom. 

You wonder what his is. 

“You never know,” he finally says, “we could always use the extra luck, don’t you think?”

You nod, “I suppose. What’s with the flowers? You know you aren’t supposed to bring them to a wedding. They probably have enough flowers as it is.”

As if caught off guard by the flowers held in his very own hand, Seokjin turns his gaze down to look at the bouquet, a collection of baby’s breath, tulips, and carnations. “Oh,” he says, speechless. “Well, I was dropping by the flower shop anyway to bother Hoseok, and he said that they had some leftover stock that nobody wanted because they were a little smaller than the other flowers, so he gave them to me at a discount. They’re for you, I guess.” Like a nervous high schooler going on his very first date, he shoves them towards you, making you step back to avoid getting punched in the chest. 

“Seriously? You didn’t have to do that, Seokjin,” you say happily, pleasantly surprised at the bouquet. Sure, some of them are a little wilted, a little dehydrated, but you get flowers so infrequently (in fact, you don’t think you’ve gotten any since Seokjin sent you one of those singular rose grams during your first Valentine’s Day at college), that the gesture is as good as gold. 

“Eh,” he says, shrugging casually. “I don’t really have anybody else I would want to give them to.”

Gleefully, you take them from his outstretched hand and immediately rush to put them in some sort of vase. You, like the piece of millennial trash that you are, end up using a random empty mason jar you find in one of your kitchen cabinets. 

“What time is it?” Seokjin asks, looking around for a clock. 

“Late, we have to go,” you instantly respond, shooing him out of the door and darting down the stairs because the elevator in your apartment building is about four hundred years old and doesn’t even have a light bulb inside of it. You cram into Seokjin’s tiny white Volkswagen, which just screams hipster-mom-in-her-forties, and he speeds off at a velocity that tiny Volkswagen beetles were not meant to go at. 

Surprisingly enough, you make it to the wedding venue with a few minutes to spare, which you largely attribute to the fact that Seokjin was driving faster than some of the SUVs on the highway on the way over. He isn’t a bad or reckless driver. He’s just a driver with certain priorities that rank higher than the act of driving itself. 

“Ah, the smell of nervousness and love,” Seokjin says as you step out of the car, inhaling dramatically. “Smells like a wedding.”

“Smells like the ceremony is about to begin,” you say, and you both rush over the pebbled path to the entrance, giggling like a bunch of high schoolers as you stumble through the front doors very ungracefully. 

“Wow,” Seokjin says, impressed at the extent of decoration. Cynthia had been raving on and on about how she was aiming to have a sort of romantic, Impressionist art painting vibe to the wedding, lots of pastels, flowers, twinkling lights. “This is very impressive. One hundred out of ten.”

“Cynthia’s been planning this for months, so I’m sure she’ll be pleased to hear it,” you say, ushering yourselves into the main wedding hall as the rest of the guests file in from chatting outside as the clock ticks down. There are two seats close to the front that Cynthia’s saved for you and your plus-one, which she most certainly will be very happy to see you have brought with you, in the form of your best friend, Seokjin, of course. 

“Aren’t you excited?” Seokjin whispers as everyone settles down. “Can’t you feel the love in the air?”

“It’s not in my genetics to feel that sort of thing,” you retort back, earning a pout from your best friend in return. 

“Well, it’s in mine, and let me tell you, Y/N, it feels like love!” He exclaims happily. “You should be basking in it.”

“Are you?” You round on him. No point in not practicing what you preach. 

“Always,” Seokjin says, gazing at you happily. He seems so content, in this very moment, about to watch a ceremony that will bond two people together for the rest of their lives, devote themselves to each other, wholly and completely. “I’m always basking in it.”

Then, the officiant steps up to the microphone at the front of the room. Seokjin reaches his hand over to grab yours, letting it rest in his palm on his lap, and the ceremony begins. 

Going to weddings as a child, even as an adult to a fairly distant coworker, they’ve always felt so detached from you as a guest. Sure, the ceremonies are wonderful and you’re happy for the newly-married couple, but it’s almost as if you’re watching a movie and instead of being another character, you’re part of the audience. When you leave the wedding venue, when all of the dancing and eating and celebrating is over, you forget all about it, and you move on with your life. 

But knowing the two people standing up at the altar as more than just coworkers, or a distant relative, knowing them as friends, as near family, tints everything in a rosy pink. It’s the most beautiful wedding ceremony you’ve ever had the pleasure of attending. It’s humbling and real and unrehearsed, romantic and funny and meaningful all at once. It makes you feel warm inside, truly, truly happy for your friend and for what is to come in the next chapter of her life. 

Crying was pretty much unavoidable. It was mostly on Seokjin’s end—he’s not as close with either of them as you are, but he certainly loves love much more than you do—but some tears were shed on your end, as well. This is the sort of thing you’d want to talk about for years to come, even after you walk out, in the hopes that a constant reminder will prevent it from ever fading from your memory. 

As weddings go, the next part is the best part: free food. You get to your tables and Cynthia’s fancy (and expensive) caterers come whooshing around with bottles of wine and pitchers of water, filling up the glasses on your tables as the wedding party prepares to enter. You’re seated next to some other old friends from college, ones you recognize and ones you don’t, and ones that Seokjin is very happy to start chatting up the moment you take your seats. 

“Are you here together?” One of the men—you think his name is Nathan(?)—asks, pointing to the two of you. 

“No,” you say. 

“Yes,” Seokjin says. 

You both turn to glare at each other as Nathan—no, maybe Noah—furrows his brows, clearly having not received the response he was aiming for. Seokjin makes a bunch of aggressive and dramatic facial gestures to remind you that you two are fucking dating, remember? Even though it’s not actually real, and that was the part you were focusing on. The not real part. 

“We are,” you correct awkwardly, even though Whatshisface seems to have moved on from the topic. “He’s my plus-one.”

“I’m not as tight with the bride as I am with one of her closest friends,” Seokjin says jokingly, even though you’re the only one who laughs. 

“Yeah,” one of the girls chimes in. “You guys were best friends in college.”

“Still are,” you say, grinning. At least you don’t have to lie about that. 

“So cute,” the same girl says romantically. “I wish I could fall in love with my best friend,” she turns to the man she’s with who clearly doesn’t want to be here whatsoever. “You guys must be so happy.”

“It’s not always a walk in the park,” Seokjin warns, and you don’t have time to smack him in the chest and ask him what the hell he means by that, as the officiant taps onto the microphone to begin to announce the entrance of the wedding party. 

As each couple, each bridesmaid and groomsman, walk through the door, you can’t help but wonder why Seokjin said it wasn’t always a walk in the park to be together. Are you that awful to fake date? 

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” Cynthia’s father asks, tapping his teaspoon against the wine glass in his hand. “I’d just like to make a toast.” He turns to where Cynthia and her fiancé are seated, and he looks on the verge of tears. “For as long as I’ve lived, I’ve never seen two people love each other so selflessly. When they’re together, they make grey skies turn blue, turn night into day. All I can wish for you both is that you will forever be each other’s best friend, each other’s rock. There is no greater joy in life than to get to spend the entirety of it with your best friend. Congratulations, Cynthia and James. We are so lucky to know you both.”

Everybody begins to clap. 

Everybody, except Seokjin. 

You notice that his hands are resting in his lap, and when you turn to look at him, you see his eyes welling up, his smile soft and wistful. 

“You alright?” You ask quietly, giving him a nudge with your shoulder. 

Seokjin looks back at you like you’ve caught him off guard. “Me? Yeah.”

“You’re crying,” you point out. 

He shrugs, blinking to let the tears roll down his cheeks. “I just love that,” he explains. “Love knowing that some of us can be so lucky to spend the rest of our lives with our best friends by our sides.”

 According to the ancient law of weddings, the reception is where all guests are mandated to get out of their seats and boogie-oogie-oogie. At least, that’s what Seokjin says, when the food gets whisked away and the space morphs into a dance floor, tables in the center cleared as the bride goes to change in her mandated second dress, because one just isn’t expensive enough as it is. Seokjin just seems to know everything about weddings. It’s almost as if he’s planned one himself. 

“Just wait until all of the stuffy, traditional dances are over,” Seokjin whispers into your ear as Cynthia and her father share a dance. Seokjin looks like he’s about to jump out of his seat, desperate to get onto the dance floor. “You’ve never seen me dance at a wedding.”

“I’ve never seen you dance at all,” you correct, excluding all of the dabbing he did in 2016 when it was still a cool thing to dab. 

“Then you’re in for a real treat,” he says smugly. 

Sure enough, the moment the rest of the guests are invited onto the dance floor to drop it low, Seokjin is the first one out of his chair, and you, the second, begrudgingly dragged to the center by your over-enthusiastic best friend. He’s always been absolutely shameless in everything he does, which makes for high confidence and low embarrassment, two things you are certainly not the strongest in. Which is exactly why you end up side-stepping awkwardly like a geek at senior prom, while he uses every single one of his limbs to express his passion for whatever generic pop song is blasting through the speakers. 

Cynthia’s never been one for niche, hipster music.

“Come on, Y/N, have a little fun!” Seokjin encourages, grabbing onto your wrist and rapidly waving it up and down, making you shake. 

“You can have enough fun for the both of us,” you tell him, still just as aware of everybody else’s opinion of you as you were in high school. Some things really never change. 

“Impossible! Come on!” He says, and you have no idea what dance move he’s about to break into from his positioning, and then you suppose you’ll never know, because the song immediately switches to an acoustic one by Ed Sheeran, which is the most generic type of slow song you could possibly think of. 

“Grab your boys and girls, everyone,” the DJ says, a random white guy who definitely would prefer to make mixtapes in his basement than do this shit. “This one’s for love!”

You don’t even have time to take another step before Seokjin is grabbing your hand with his own and pulling you in close to him. He holds your one hand out and places his other on your waist, and instinctively, you rest your hand on his shoulder. 

When you went to senior prom in high school, your date was this terribly nervous friend of a friend, who asked you because you both didn’t have a real date to go with, and you figured it would be better to go with an acquaintance than nobody at all. And it was sort of fun, because you sat at a table with all of your friends and ate decent senior prom food, and it wasn’t in your stinky high school gymnasium but a fairly nice country club. But when the only slow song of the night came on, thus ensued the most awkward three minutes of your entire high school career. 

This is by no means an exact science, but you figure that the people you are closest to are the people you can slow dance with without it being terrible and awkward and awful. You did it with your parents when you were a little girl in the living room of your family home. You did it with Cynthia at two in the morning one night when she had just gotten dumped by this absolutely rotten boy. 

And now, you’re doing it with Seokjin. And it isn’t terrible or awkward or awful at all. You sway to the soft strums of the guitar and it feels just right. The feeling of his hand in yours, on your waist, of yours on his shoulder. There’s less than a six inches of distance and you feel as close as you have always been. Seokjin feels so natural. He always has, and you know that he always will. There’s no doubt when it comes to him, no regret. 

“Isn’t this nice?” Seokjin asks, grinning at you. 

“Only because it’s with you,” you say back with a smile. Seokjin beams. 

Later, when the slow dance is over and you make your way back to your table so you can watch your best friend make a fool of himself from a distance. Cynthia drops by, blissful. 

“I knew you’d bring Seokjin! He’s charming the pants off of my mom as we speak,” Cynthia says happily. You both crane your neck to see him teaching Cynthia’s mom the floss, outdated as per usual. 

“Yeah, I mean,” you say with a shrug, “who else was I going to bring?”

“He makes you happy, doesn’t he?” Cynthia asks. She looks proud. She deserves it. 

You turn back to look at Seokjin, on the verge of tears of laughter as Cynthia’s mom successfully flosses for the first time. He’s so wonderful. The light of your damn life. “Yeah. He does.”

When the fair comes to town, you don’t find out from posters stapled to utility posts and taped to traffic lights. Nor do you find out from word of mouth, from the two strangers in your favorite (slightly overpriced) coffee shop ahead of you in line. It’s not even your coworkers who mention it to you in passing one day because their eight-year-old has been begging them to go but they can’t because they have a dentist appointment.

It is, because who else would it be, of course, Seokjin, who texts you at 4:18PM on that Saturday and says:

[May 27th, 4:18PM]

Seokjin: I’m on my way over to your apartment to pick you up Seokjin: Don’t ask questions

And it is, in every possible way, the scariest thing you have ever received on your phone. Seokjin’s always been one for spontaneity, but ever since the two of you graduated and stopped feeling the urge to go out to McDonald’s at three in the morning, random activities have become less of a rule and more of an exception. But it’s a Saturday, which means you don’t have to go to work, and it’s near-evening, which means you’ve been sitting at home doing absolutely nothing all day as it is. And it’s May, which means that the sun only sets at seven at night and there is so much to be done in this wonderful weather. 

So, Seokjin’s on his way. 

You spend the next seven minutes (Seokjin lives approximately eight minutes by car from where you live, not that you’re counting, or anything) changing out of the yoga pants you’ve been wearing since you returned from work Friday evening and trying to make yourself look as presentable as possible. You don’t know where he’s taking you. He could be bringing you to an alley to murder you for your inheritance. He’s definitely on your will, that’s for sure. You want to look nice. 

Seven minutes later, you see his tiny white Volkswagen pull up outside your apartment complex as you’re slipping on some sandals. He hops out of the driver’s seat and scurries into the lobby, which signals to you that he is a man on a mission, and you are simply the best friend who gets roped along for the ride. He knocks on your door thirty seconds after that, and you linger for a few moments so as not to seem like you’ve been anxiously awaiting his arrival. 

“Let’s go,” Seokjin declares in lieu of a hello. He reaches out to grab onto your wrist, pulling you out of the door as you frantically make sure you have your bag with you, otherwise you’ll be phone-less, key-less, and lip-balm-less. Three equally terrible fates. 

“What? Now? No explanation, nothing?”

“I parked in the no parking fire lane with my blinkers on, which means we have to go right now. We also have to go because I am very excited about where we are going,” Seokjin elaborates, though it does nothing to clarify the situation at hand. Other than the fact that if you don’t get into his car right now, he’s got a ticket to pay. 

“But where are we going?” You ask again, as Seokjin and you scramble down the stairs to make it to his Volkswagen before the security guard in the lobby starts shouting at him for his illegal parking job. 

“The fair!” Seokjin says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Did you see it was in town?”

“No,” you say dumbly. 

“Oh,” Seokjin says awkwardly. “Well, it is, and I feel like we haven’t seen each other in a while—”

“It’s been three days.”

“—and we haven’t gone out on a real date yet, you and me.” Seokjin explains as you get to his car. Luckily, there is no angry security guard nor a ticket underneath his windshield wiper, so you slide into the passenger seat and he drives off. 

“Yes, we have,” you object. “Cynthia’s wedding counts as a real date.” He was literally your plus-one. What more could define the word ‘date’?

Seokjin scrunches his nose up in clear disagreement. “No, it doesn’t,” he argues back. “Cynthia was going to tear your arm off if you didn’t bring me with. That was a date out of obligation.”

“Aren’t all of these dates out of obligation?”

You expect some sort of witty response, but instead, you’re met with silence as Seokjin opens the driver’s side door, the two of you looking over the top of his Volkswagen wordlessly, each waiting for something. 

What? It’s not like you’re wrong. Seokjin is taking you out on dates to get a feel for what a real, blossoming relationship is like. Except this isn’t real, and your relationship is far from blossoming. It’s bloomed, already. Into an irreplaceable friendship. 

“Yeah, well,” Seokjin sputters, for once in his life, speechless. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, sitting roughly in the driver’s seat as you get into the passenger side, watch as he fumbles to put the keys into the ignition. “Don’t you want to know what a first date is supposed to be like?”

“You don’t have to take me on a fake first date just to spend time with me,” you tell him, the two of you facing forward, staring at the road in front of you as he drives. The radio is playing, some generic alternative rock song that neither of you are familiar enough to warrant turning up the volume for. Seokjin’s always preferred listening to the radio over his own music. Something about ambience while he drives. “We can spend time together wherever. Even if we’re just in my apartment.”

Seokjin’s wonderful and the best and one of the (if not the) greatest people you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, but he doesn’t need to do all of this for you. It’s enough for him to text you in the morning to remind you to drink a glass of water before you eat anything to wake your body up. Enough for him to leave leftovers from your dinner nights in your fridge, so you can savor the taste of his food after he’s gone home. Enough for the two of you to be as you used to be, as you always have been and always will be. 

Seokjin scoffs, honking at a driver who sped through a red light. “Those aren’t dates, Y/N,” he explains like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “They’re just ways that we spend time with each other.”

“So then what makes this a date? What’s the difference?” You demand. Seokjin’s not making any sense. Sure, you aren’t nearly as well-versed in the dating scene as he is, certainly haven’t been on as many as he has, but from your limited knowledge, you’d always thought that what makes a date is not the setting, not the time or location, but the person you spend it with. 

Arguably, that would mean that all of the nights and days you’ve spent with Seokjin could, by that definition, be dates, but that’s obviously not the case. You’ve always just been friends. 

“It’s a date because I say it is,” Seokjin declares. “You wanna know what makes a date? It’s when the two people—or more, depending on how you swing—decide that it is a date. It’s just a label.”

“If it’s just a label, then why are you making such a big deal out of it?” You ask. You know you’re being a bit annoying with all of the questions at this point, but who’s to say you couldn’t have spent the evening curled up in your apartment and called that a date as well? 

“Because,” Seokjin begins, sighing. His hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles are turning white. “Because,” he repeats, “if someone really wants to impress you, then they will make a big deal out of it. Because you deserve it.”

Eventually, Seokjin pulls into the giant open field designated for parked cars, and expertly squeezes into this tiny space between two absolutely massive SUVs, likely once filled with five children and two very, very tired parents. Sure, you both only have about six inches of space to shimmy out of his car, but it was a good parking job nonetheless. 

“Get you a boyfriend who can park as well as I can,” Seokjin says, patting himself on the back as you head towards the entrance. 

“Why would I need a boyfriend when I have you?” You tease back.

You wait for a cheeky response from Seokjin, turning to look at him when he delivers the blow, but it never arrives. Instead, Seokjin reaches a hand down to grab onto yours, and you walk hand in hand towards the entrance, wordless. He pays, which makes you angry, but he tells you that you can buy a funnel cake for you to share to make up for it, and that’s good enough. 

In movies and books, a fair is a very high-school event for people to attend. Lots of bright flashes of color, loud noises, and junk food, which are three things that society believes deters anyone over the age of nineteen from attending. You can’t name a single piece of pop culture that features two fully-grown adults eating cotton candy and sitting in a ferris wheel carriage. Because the moment you turn twenty, your back starts to permanently ache and noises louder than the sound of your refrigerator making ice give you a headache, of course. 

Seokjin, of course, has never been one to let the media define him. 

He lights up like New Year’s Eve the moment you walk through the gates. Like a child on Christmas day. 

There’s a difference between being immature and being youthful that people often fail to realize, confusing the two, or worse, thinking they’re the same thing. But there are sixteen-year-olds out there who are more mature than middle-aged adults, and there are middle-aged adults who still act like they’re going through puberty. Seokjin was immature when you first met him, the same way all college freshmen are, but over the years lost that mindset while still never parting with the youthful part of himself, the part filled with childlike wonder, with innocence and hopefulness. It has always been part of him. 

When Seokjin looks at the world, he sees it bathed in light, in color. He sees people in their most wonderful form. Sees every day, every moment, as something worth remembering. Sees the future as something worth looking forward to. 

You’ve always envied that about him. Perhaps it’s just in your nature, but you’ve always been jaded, a little cynical. 

A realist and a dreamer. 

And they always say that opposites don’t really attract. 

Here at the fair, Seokjin is more than prepared and willing to have enough fun for the both of you, even as you pull up to one of those impossible-to-win water-squirter games. He’s already pulling out his wallet to hand a couple of bills to the angsty-looking teenager behind the booth. 

“You know that these are totally rigged, right?” You ask, chuckling to yourself as Seokjin rubs his hands together with a wide-eyed excitement. 

“Just because they’re rigged doesn’t mean winning is impossible,” Seojin says confidently, taking a seat and gearing up to begin. You stand to the side, arms crossed, waiting to be sufficiently unimpressed. “What are you doing standing there? I paid for both of us.”

Before you know it, Seokjin is pulling you down into the seat next to him as the teen counts down, giving you a very monotonous three seconds before the bell rings and you have to aim weakly-pressurized water into the mouth of a faded plastic clown. 

You’ve never had the best hand-eye coordination. On multiple occasions, Seokjin has tossed you a fruit, a bag of rice, something non-dangerous and relatively large, and on multiple occasions, you fumble to grab it and it eventually ends up on your kitchen floor. It takes you about half of the minute you’re given to blow up the balloon to get your aim straight, and by then, Seokjin’s balloon could eat yours for lunch. 

“Pick up the pace, Y/N!” Seokjin teases, relishing in his lead. This is embarrassing, and you’re better than this. And yet.

“It’s working against me and you know it!” You defend yourself. Because their unfairness is the reason Seokjin’s about to win and you’re about to lose. 

“How can you say that when I’m doing so well?” Seokjin laughs, and his balloon pops the moment that the sixty-second countdown ends, an underwhelming blare of celebratory music playing through the speakers at the corners of the tent. 

A sad little “Better luck next time!” echoes from the clown in front of you, and you slam your water gun on the table as Seokjin gloats in your face, the teenager coming over to hand Seokjin his prize, looking dead on his feet. 

“What should I get, hmm?” Seokjin asks. 

The selection is pretty weak. A lot of Frozen merchandise, two-dollar stuffed Olafs and capes with Anna and Elsa’s faces on the back. A couple of nondescript stuffed animals, from glittery lizards to pastel teddy bears. What looks like a generic-brand Whoopee cushion. 

“You don’t want a stuffed Olaf?” You ask innocently. The design is a little off, so it looks like Olaf is staring into your soul, Mona Lisa-style. 

“Hmm,” Seokjin says, pretending to think about it. The poor kid looks like he’s about to faint from boredom, desperate for two fully-grown adults to stop acting like they don’t know what prize to pick from an amusement park booth. “How about the pink teddy bear?”

Very on-brand for him. The teen hands it to Seokjin and the two of you go on your merry way, Seokjin demanding the two of you go to stuff your faces with funnel cake before rounding out the night on the ferris wheel. 

“For you,” Seokjin says, holding the teddy bear out to you as the two of you stand in the surprisingly-long line for funnel cake. 

“Me?” You ask, eyebrows raised in disbelief as your fingers curl around the fluffy fabric. It’s softer than you thought it would be. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin says, certain. “To remind you of me.”

You grin, holding the bear close to you. Sure, it’s a little bit kindergarten, like the cute boy on the playground placing a quick kiss on your lips before the teacher calls everybody in after recess ends, but the gesture is more than enough. To know that Seokjin won something, even something as plain and inexpensive as a prize from a fair, and his first and only thought was to give it to you, well, that makes you happy. “I don’t need a bear to be reminded of you,” you muse. Not when there are pieces of your friendship lingering everywhere you walk, from your apartment to your old university to your mind. 

“Can’t hurt to know you’re always thinking about me,” Seokjin says, and it’s not greasy or smug or weird. It’s honest.

You laugh. “When am I not?”

Funnel cake starts with a black t-shirt and the two of you arguing over who’s going to foot the ten dollar bill, much to your dismay. Even though Seokjin had explicitly said that you could pay, since he covered your entrance ticket, he still makes a big deal about doing it himself in front of the poor funnel cake girl, who definitely doesn’t get paid nearly enough to watch two grown adults fight over a ten dollar funnel cake. Eventually, you get your way and successfully hand the girl a ten dollar bill and she hands you a paper plate piled high with funnel cake as you begin to search for an open place to sit. 

“Just because I said that you could pay for the funnel cake doesn’t mean I actually meant it,” Seokjin says with a frown as you scope out a place to sit. At evening’s peak, it’s nearly impossible, which leads the both of you to a curb next to a recycling bin piled high with plastic cups, stained with Coca Cola and Fanta, knees up to your chin as you crouch over a single plate of funnel cake.

“Isn’t this cozy,” Seokjin says with a grin as a burly middle-aged dad steps on Seokjin’s clean white sneakers to throw something away. 

“We’ve been in more cramped quarters before,” you say. One of the many instances that immediately comes to mind is when the two of you were trapped in a closet in a frat house for nearly two hours because two people on the other side were having sex, the entire time. It was a good bonding experience. The two of you got very acquainted with each other’s scents. 

Seokjin’s hasn’t changed. Still sweet, sugary and vanilla from all of the baking he does, and a little bit like raindrops.

You wonder if Seokjin thinks the same about yours. 

“You know I don’t mind where we are and what we’re doing when I’m with you,” Seokjin says, and it sounds like a line straight out of a Hallmark movie, cheesy and cliche and rehearsed. But it’s none of those things. Seokjin says it and it’s real. And it’s the sort of thing that makes you wonder if you’re ever as true with him as he is with you. 

“Even when we’re sitting on the ground and eating funnel cake next to a recycling bin in a fair filled with messy children and their deadbeat parents?” You ask. 

Seokjin nods, taking an enormous bite of funnel cake. “Yes, even then.”

“True love,” you muse. Very few people would you do this for. Seokjin is one of them. 

Seokjin coughs at the words, his whole body shaking, and the powdered sugar from the piece in his hands goes flying, like a tiny little blizzard, falling onto his skin, his shirt, his lips, and everywhere in between. Snowflakes. 

Funnel cake ends with Seokjin trying to wipe the white dust on the front of his pitch black t-shirt away with a napkin, and only smearing it further into the fabric, cotton turning sticky from the sugar. It looks like a cocaine bust gone wrong. It looks only slightly not-kid-friendly. 

“Am I addicted to cocaine or did I just spill powdered sugar on myself?” Seokjin jokes, much to the horror of a family passing by, the mom giving you and Seokjin an alarmed expression as she picks up the pace. “It was powdered sugar!” Seokjin calls after them, making the two of you laugh. “Or it was cocaine. Whatever you want to believe.”

“You’re too soft to do cocaine,” you tell Seokjin, a very strange sort of compliment. 

“Maybe powdered sugar, though,” Seokjin says with a laugh as you heave yourselves off of the curb, tossing out the paper plate and dusting off your hands, flakes of powdered sugar falling to the ground. “Ferris wheel?”

“Anything you want,” you tell him, letting him lead you towards the ride, lit up like a Christmas tree. 

It’s as if every possible holiday threw up on the damn thing, a jumble of rainbow flights flashing erratically as a generic carnival tune plays in the background, sluggishly moving on its axis. It couldn’t have been built before this century. 

You squeeze into the carriage, clearly built to fit a child and their father at most, let alone two adults who both don’t have a regular exercise schedule. In order to fit, you have to stretch a leg over Seokjin’s lap and lean so that part of your shoulder is against his chest. It’s… cozy. It’s most definitely not the most cramped either of you have ever felt. 

“This is the part where I pretend to yawn and then stretch my arm over you,” Seokjin says matter-of-factly, as if that particular action is a mandatory part of the date.

“Oh, is that proper first-date etiquette?” You tease. 

“Only for me,” Seokjin says, cheeky, and it’s the greasiest thing you’ve ever had the misfortune of hearing. Even so, you let him fake yawn, melodramatic and totally contrived, feel as his arm comes to rest on your shoulder, hand swinging down over your side. Instinctively, you reach up to grab it with your arm, letting the two of you sit like this as the ferris wheel creaks, slowly moving you upwards. “Aren’t you having the best first date ever?”

“It’s the only one I can remember,” you admit, especially since it’s still in progress. 

“That means it’s the best.” Seokjin grins. 

“And the worst,” you add on, making Seokjin laugh. 

Finally, finally, finally, you reach the top, overlooking the entire fair, lit up in the night in a warm pink and yellow haze. At this hour, only the teenagers are left, families having gone home for the night, and you can hear the cheers even from up here, hear the laughter and jokes and chatter. it’s a sort of ambience you’ve never had the pleasure of listening to before. One of an active night, filled with people, and you, far away enough to be out of the action but close enough to enjoy it nonetheless. 

“Isn’t this nice, Y/N?” Seokjin asks, the two of you looking out into the distance, wishing you could stay like this forever. “When we’re up here, it feels like I can forget about everything and just think about now.” If only you could stay like this forever.

“And what are you thinking about, right now?” You ask, head resting on his shoulders. 

Instinctively, his arm moves from your shoulder to your waist, tugging you into his side, letting you rest your legs on top of his own. Seokjin’s never needed to be more honest than he already is. He says what he means, and he means what he says.

It’s always been so easy when it comes to him. 

He lets out a breath, and you can feel his chest rising beneath your hand on his torso, feel the subtle beat of his heart beneath your fingers. 

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

He rests his head atop yours. “You,” he says.

Seokjin, a man of his word, holds up his end of the deal like he does everything else: honestly and fully. Little has really changed about your relationship dynamic—he still sends you good morning texts and reminds you that you need to drink your eight glasses of water (which you never do, and he consistently does because he’s an organized man with perfect skin). Still randomly comes to your apartment with two brown bags filled with groceries to last you the next two weeks. Still makes time for you.

But now, it’s all being done under the guise of courtship. Of what it’s like to have someone romantically interested in you. 

Of course, Seokjin’s not actually romantically interested in you, but he does a damn good job of pretending to be. For the sake of this whole thing. Seokjin still has one objective in mind: get you to believe in love again, and that all of these things he’s been doing, from taking you to the fair to dancing with you at Cynthia’s wedding, are means to accomplish an end. 

(The stuff in between, the texts, the calls, the visits, those are just part of your routine.)

It feels completely normal and totally unnatural, all at once. Like a new kind of relationship neither of you have really ever delved in before, toeing the line between friendship and this other feeling, one without a name. Seokjin will do something that you and he have always done, long before any of this was in motion, like ordering Indian takeout to your place unprompted, and then he will say that that’s what people are supposed to do when they’re courting someone. As if he is the end-all be-all of chivalry. 

Truth be told, you can’t wait for this to end, for things to go back to the way they were. You never did set an official fake breakup date (if that’s what it’s even called), but you suppose that that means that you can just call it off whenever you’d like. You don’t feel as though anything he’s doing is working. He treats you just the same. What is there to fall in love with, other than familiarity?

But Seokjin’s diligence makes you diligent, too, which is why you’re standing in your kitchen, outnumbered by vegetables (ten to one, which means they could definitely kill you if given the chance—and opposable thumbs), a gigantic pot on your creaky gas stove, boiling soup swirling inside. Even though your kitchen is nowhere near the level of organized and systematic as the Chopped set, it certainly smells like it. Your cooking can hardly compare to Seokjin’s (you roughly chopped vegetables and put them in broth, he makes kimbap for fun), but, like all other aspects of your life, he rubs off on you, one way or another. 

Seokjin seems to think that this transference of his personality will apply to how he feels about love, too. But time can only work so much magic, and ever since freshman year of college, for the seven years you’ve known him, it’s always been like this. 

You let the soup simmer on your stove as you begin to pack up the food scattered on your counter, unsure when next you’re going to use it, especially since your daily meals usually consist of leftovers and, if you’re feeling exotic, stir-fry. It’s then that you hear the knock on your door, and you don’t even need to think before you’re scurrying over to pull it open, revealing Seokjin leaning over to peek happily into your peephole.  

“Look who it is, for a change,” you say sarcastically.

“You mean your favorite human being in the entire world who is about to take you to see his mom and enjoy a nice home-cooked mom meal?” Seokjin corrects obnoxiously, making you laugh as you let him inside. 

“You blackmailed me into this,” you remind him, pointing an accusing metal soup ladle his way. “You convinced me that you’re doing me a favor by treating me like someone you’d want to court, and tricked me into making an enormous pot of soup for your mother!” A lose-lose situation. 

“I am doing you a favor,” Seokjin defends. “Don’t you love having a doting, attractive young professional taking you out to fairs and ordering you take-out? This is what the beginning of a relationship is supposed to look like.” Emphasis on supposed to. “Also, I accompanied you to Cynthia’s wedding after she had been talking your ear off trying to get you to bring a plus-one, so…”

A dirty, dirty play. 

“Fine, you win,” you concede. You did really appreciate him coming, especially so last minute. “I better hear nothing but pure, unadulterated praise coming from your lips when you eat my soup, or else.”

“I would have showered compliments on your soup even if you hadn’t sent me a thinly-veiled threat,” Seokjin says proudly. “What kind of a best friend would I be if I didn’t?”

Perhaps one that confused you a little less. 

You spend the entire car ride to Seokjin’s mom’s house (who lives forty-minutes out of the city) listening to him ramble on about how desperately his mother wants him to get married, settle down and have kids or a dog or two. The two of you still have half of your twenties to go, but the moment he graduated, Seokjin got a steady job and a nice apartment in the city, which immediately equates to marriage material. 

At least, that’s what his mom thinks. 

But those aren’t the sort of things that make Seokjin marriage material. You’ve known him for years. Ever since he first spoke to you, it was immediately obvious he was always the sort of perfect, dreamboat husband material that teenage girls fawn over, that characters in anime fantasize about. 

At the most basic level, Seokjin is goddamn attractive, and even if you’ve seen him in nothing but tighty-whities as a nervous eighteen-year-old, seen him with tomato sauce in his hair, seen him sick with a cold and strep throat, you can’t deny him that. He’d got the sort of looks that make people on the street take photos of him, thinking he’s a celebrity. 

But not only is Seokjin undoubtedly gorgeous, he’s an entire package. He’s an excellent cook, capable of impressing any and all parents, hilarious, charming and charismatic. Professional but never dull. He does his part in group projects, studies for his exams, listens to the music recommendations you give him even if they aren’t his style. The girls he dated in college knew exactly what they were doing when they went out with him. They were attempting to secure their future. It’s a shame none of them stuck, not like you, Elmer’s glue on his skin. 

Seokjin’s mom, the lovely woman she is, is under the impression that Seokjin became husband material when he graduated, got a job and moved to the city. But you know better than anyone—Seokjin’s always been husband material. Now, he’s just old enough that he knows he could be looking for himself. 

When you pull into Seokjin’s mom’s driveway, a little suburban home with a freshly-mowed font lawn and flowers by the mailbox, she’s already opening the front door and scurrying out, still wearing her slippers. 

“Eomma!” Seokjin says happily, getting out of the driver’s seat as she bounds towards him, the two of them wearing the same smiles on their faces. Like mother, like son. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long!” She chides, smacking him slightly. “You have to come and visit me more often. I don’t live that far away from you.”

“I’m busy, Ma,” Seokjin says with a roll of his eyes. “I have a job.”

“A job and no wife!” She exclaims, though her attitude immediately changes the moment you exit the car, pot of soup still warm in your hands. “Y/N!” 

She rushes over to give you a hug as well, albeit a much more careful one. She looks positively thrilled to see you. Seokjin’s mom has always liked you, even when you were an insufferable eighteen-year-old. They would invite you over for their Chuseok celebrations every year, and sometimes to their New Year’s Eve parties, if you were in the area over winter break. 

“No wife yet, Eomma,” Seokjin says. 

“You look so pretty, Y/N,” Seokjin’s mother tells you. She takes the pot from your hands wordlessly, refusing to listen to your protests as she shoos you both inside. 

The house smells of a home-cooked meal, savory and salty and sweet all at once, and you can see several dishes already laid out on the table. It’s both a familiar sight and scent, something you all too frequently experience whenever you barge into Seokjin’s apartment around mealtime. Seokjin immediately joins his mother in the kitchen, scrambling around to help her finish cooking, as you wait awkwardly by the table, easily the most inexperienced of the three of you. 

“Is this your soup?” His mother asks. 

“Yes, I thought to make some to bring tonight,” you say with a smile. Seokjin’s mother beams. 

“Delicious! Seokjinie always tells me how much he loves having it when he’s sick. You take care of him very well,” his mother grins. She places it on the stove, turning on the heat to warm it up. 

“Only because he does the same for me,” you say, sending a grin Seokjin’s way, one he returns instantly. 

The rest of the meal preparation (which doesn’t take long, especially with an extra pair of equally-gifted hands) goes by like this, Seokjin’s mother heaping compliments onto you as you stand there, helpless, watching as the two add the final dishes to the dining table. Seokjin dodges every question about his lack of engagement, always deflecting and shifting the topic to something you’ve done. Maybe this is why he wanted you around…

Finally, when dinner is ready, the three of you sit down, eager to pick up your chopsticks and dive in. 

“Seokjin’s father is away on business,” his mother explains after you note the empty place setting. “He sends his love!”

“I knew I was missing the dad jokes,” Seokjin says with a shake of his head. “Luckily, I can make up for them with my own.”

Seokjin’s mother laughs. “You must get a lot of this, don’t you?” She shoves an extra serving of fish onto your plate, letting it plop on top of the kimchi she had previously spooned onto the dish. “Eat, eat. I made it for you.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say with a smile. You’ll probably walk out of this house with a food baby the size of Jupiter. You always do. “And yes, but it’s nice. I like spending time with him.”

“Oh, thank God,” Seokjin says dramatically, a hand to his chest. “I was worried about that, for a second.”

“You two have always been inseparable,” his mother comments. “Don’t tell me this is why you haven’t married yet, Seokjin-ah.”

“What do you mean, Ma?” He asks over a mouthful of naengmyeon. “You know that I’m waiting to get married.”

Seokjin’s mother scoffs, shocked. “What? But Y/N’s right here! You two make an excellent couple.”

“Eomma!” Seokjin admonishes, even a little taken aback himself. You had no idea this was the secret plan his mother’s been plotting, all this time. It seems both you and him were just operating under the assumption that she was doing what all mothers do when their children are adults—dreaming out loud for grandchildren. 

“I’m sorry, did I misread something? You two are a couple, aren’t you?” His mother asks, positively bewildered. No wonder she’s been grilling Seokjin so hard about getting married. She had thought he was halfway there, already. 

You open your mouth to correct her, but your mind gets the best of you. Isn’t this what Seokjin wants? For people to think you’re a couple? For the true dating experience—are they, aren’t they? 

“No, Eomma,” Seokjin says, interrupting your thoughts. You turn to him, brows furrowed in confusion. “We’re just friends.”

Nobody mentions marriage, dating, or love for the rest of the meal. 

You excuse yourself to the bathroom once everyone is finished, Seokjin’s mother shooing you away from the kitchen sink, refusing to let you partake in any sort of clean up as the honorary guest. You’re glad to get away, the tension palpable and thick, looming over your heads, a reminder to all three of you that friends is all you have been, and friends is all you will ever be. Strangely enough, Seokjin had seemed the most disappointed out of all of you, even more so than his mother, whose dreams of grandchildren were crushed before her eyes. 

You wonder why. 

If Seokjin had been so adamant about the two of you calling yourselves a couple at the wedding, then why did he backtrack here? Was it his mother? Was it you? What could have made him change his mind?

As you walk back to the kitchen, you can hear the two of them having a conversation, hushed voices so as not to alert you. You take a step back from the entryway, hiding behind the wall to eavesdrop. 

“You must see the way she looks at you, Seokjin-ah,” his mother says. 

“No, Ma, that doesn’t mean anything,” Seokjin says, voice cold. 

“Yes it does, my boy,” she says. “Can’t you see it? The way she cares for you.”

“That’s just how it’s always been.”

“Seokjin-ah, please. You’re being stubborn.”

“Eomma, believe me, I know better than anyone else that we’re only ever going to be friends.”

“You don’t see it, then?” His mother’s voice is sad, helpless. “The way she loves you.”

You hear Seokjin suck in a breath, a deep, heavy inhale, weighed down by his thoughts. At that moment, you decide to round the corner, pretending like you haven’t hear a thing. 

“Y/N!” Seokjin’s mother exclaims happily. “Your soup was delicious. You’ll have to come over more often so I can keep having it.”

“I’ll have Seokjin send home a thermos with it,” you joke, lightening the tension you can still feel lingering in the air. 

“Ah, you’re too kind!” She says, sending you a warm smile. Seokjin hasn’t turned around from where he’s facing the sink, yellow rubber gloves up to his elbows as he scrubs the dishes clean. “Seokjin-ah, you must remember to bring Y/N more often. I love seeing her.”

“Yes, Eomma,” Seokjin says dutifully. When he finishes, he packs up the leftovers his mother is sending him home with, placing tupperware after tupperware into a plain brown bag. “Y/N, ready to go?”

“Yes, it’s getting late,” you say, the words stiff on your tongue. Seokjin seems closed off, bottled up. There’s something he’s not saying, and you can feel it weighing on his tongue. “it was lovely to see you again.”

“Of course!” Seokjin’s mother grins. “You must visit me again soon. I’ll be waiting!”

“Bye, Eomma,” Seokjin says as you head to the front door, pulling on your shoes as he opens the door. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Remember what I said, alright, Seokjin-ah?” His mother says, pulling him in for a hug. “You mustn't ignore what’s right in front of you.” You can’t help but wonder if maybe, you had overheard something you weren’t supposed to. 

In the car, you ask, “What was your mom talking about? When we were saying goodbye?”

Seokjin shrugs, nonchalant and calm. It’s so plain that it’s uncharacteristic of him. “Oh, nothing.” You hate not knowing what really lingers in his thoughts, rests deep in the pit of his heart. You want nothing more than to reach over and promise him that, no matter what, you’ll always be by his side. “She just wants me to look out for myself.”

Even on this clear night, the moon and stars visible above your heads, your mind (and heart) couldn’t be foggier. 

In your freshman year of college, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 had just been released on DVD, digital, and Blu-ray. Seokjin, the eighteen-year-old genius he was, had brought a projector to school that year, and so, one chilly November weekend, you and him set up in an empty lounge with a perfectly white wall and watched (spoiler alert) Voldemort get Avada Kedavra-ed at one in the morning. 

Ever since, monthly movie nights have been ingrained into your routine, even when Seokjin was in London for a semester in your junior year and you used a shady website so you could stream Netflix movies together. You think, that semester, you watched every Certified Rotten movie on Netflix possible, relishing in being able to joke about how terrible the films you were watching with your best friend. You almost thought you would break your tradition, just because of how difficult it was to organize. 

But still, you persisted. 

Of course, now, in the age of platform subscriptions and renting on YouTube, it’s a lot easier. Seokjin has a subscription to every movie-streaming platform under the sun, which means that by default, so do you. One of the many perks of having Seokjin as your best friend. 

As two mostly-functioning adults in the real world, this is how your movie nights typically go: you will alternate apartments as the designated living room of the weekend, the host is in charge of arranging a pre-show dinner, and the guest is in charge of bringing a bottle of wine as a gift. You eat dinner, drink wine, and watch a movie together, either on the couch, or, in emergencies, in bed. The host always chooses. Three years out of college and running, neither of you have been able to come up with a system more foolproof than this. 

Tonight, it is Seokjin’s turn to host, which you always prefer because he cooks dinner on his own instead of giving up and ordering takeout like you always do, and because his couch and bed are much more comfortable than your own. Not that you frequent his bed. Because you don’t. You just know that from your limited experience, it’s much more comfortable than your own bed. It’s probably his mattress. 

When you arrive at his apartment, his door is already cracked open, resting on the door frame as you can hear him whistling a tune you don’t recognize. Almost like he’s been expecting you, or something. 

“If you leave your door open like this, you’re gonna get robbed,” you announce, forgoing a hello as you barge inside, the apartment smelling of smokiness. “Whoa, what the hell are you cooking? Lava?”

“I accidentally set off the fire alarm,” Seokjin explains, back turned towards you as he bends down to pull something out of the oven. “That’s why the door’s open.”

“Oh, not because you were expecting a guest?” You tease, placing the bottle of wine on the counter as you join him in the kitchen. 

Seokjin turns around to reveal a baking dish with four chicken legs, drenched in a sauce that smells of spice and flavor, charred on the skin. Gourmet restaurants couldn’t even compare. 

“No,” he jokes. “I was gonna eat all of this food and drink this wine by myself.”

“Hey, that is my wine!” You shout, making grabby hands towards the neck of the bottle. Seokjin raises a single eyebrow, unimpressed, as he dishes up the food, two chicken legs a piece on some luxurious paper plates. “Fine, I guess we can share.”

“You know you can’t resist me,” Seokjin tells you, and you hate it, because it’s true. 

 As you finish up, washing the pots and pans as Seokjin puts away the various bottles of seasoning on his counter, some of which you can’t even name, he asks, “Couch or bed?”

You turn, scandalized, swatting him with a fork lathered with soap, “So forward!”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Ugh, you know what I mean. You know I don’t mind where we watch our movie.”

(So long as he’s with you.)

You give the two options not another second worth of thought. You’re in the mood to lounge around on Seokjin’s terribly comfortable mattress tonight. You’ve had a rough past week at work, and sometimes, if you complain enough, Seokjin will massage your shoulders as you watch the movie. 

“Hmm… bed, please!” You say like a child, wrapping up the dishwashing as Seokjin grabs his laptop from the coffee table by the couch. You skip into his bedroom, giddy and only the tiniest bit wine-drunk, Seokjin following like the heavyweight best friend he is. 

Seokjin’s bedroom space has always felt so familiar to you. Plants along the windowsill, shelves with photos of his family, an enormous full-length mirror for gratuitous outfit-of-the-day pictures. Even in college, it felt this warm, this cozy. When you knocked on the wooden door of his dormitory at midnight to go out and get McDonald’s, coming back and gorging out on your McNuggets, it felt like this. 

People always say that your bedroom should be your little sanctuary, a home within a house. But instead of your own bedroom giving you that comfort, it’s Seokjin’s. Here, more so than anywhere else, you feel safe. Warm. Loved. There’s something magical to it. 

“What are we watching?” You ask happily, jumping onto his bed and grabbing the nearest plushie to hold onto. Seokjin plugs his laptop charger into the nearest outlet and sets it up on a couple of pillows for optimal viewing pleasure, the two of you leaning against a mountain of pillows as he pulls up Netflix. 

“To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, have you heard of it?” Seokjin asks, clicking play on the movie. 

You furrow your brows as you curl into him, letting your head rest on his chest. “Really? I thought you were gonna pick something cool, like Interstellar, or something. Not something my fifteen-year-old cousin loves.”

“First of all, your fifteen-year-old cousin has great taste,” Seokjin tells you, offended. “Secondly, just because this is a teenage romantic comedy doesn’t mean it’s any less cool than Matthew McConaughey in a spacesuit, okay?”

You’re still skeptical. The New York Times gave To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before a pretty decent review, but you have long outgrown your teenage coming-of-age romantic-comedy movie phase, even if you still quote Clueless regularly. As you’ve gotten older, your movie nights have transitioned away from young adult books turned into movies and more towards films that people like Lupita Nyong’o star in, movies with sad endings on purpose. So this is very out of character, especially for a movie junkie like Seokjin, who sends you weekly movie reviews of the latest indie divorce drama.

You snuggle in closer, accepting defeat. It is Seokjin’s turn to choose, after all. And you suppose, that after a long week of unforgiving work, you could use this time to unwind, mindlessly watch a movie geared towards high-schoolers instead of analyzing some unknown French historical drama. “Alright then,” you tell him. “I trust you.”

Famous last words. 

You always have a habit of putting your trust into your best friend at the absolute worst times. Example One: In junior year, when he swore that the new salad place on campus was delicious until you got food poisoning from their chicken. Example Two: The summer after you graduated, when he promised you that roller skating was “easy” and “fun”. Example Three: Two months ago, when he blackmailed you into letting him take you out on dates after promising to go with you to Cynthia’s wedding. 

Example Four: Right now, as you’re snuggled up together like two birds of a feather, watching two sixteen-year-olds agree to fake date for personal gain. And even though they’re high schoolers, and even though he’s going through with it to get back at an ex-girlfriend and she’s trying to recover from her disastrously-mailed love letters, it feels too similar to be something that Seokjin just happened to stumble upon. 

You turn to look up at Seokjin, the movie a distant hum in the background, hardly at the forefront of your mind, but he doesn’t spare you a second glance. Instead, he pulls you in closer, wrapping an arm around your torso as his fingers dance across your own, mindless. He doesn’t have a damn thing to say, a rarity in your relationship, letting the movie do the talking. 

I think it’s funny, the boy says as the two main characters sit in this absolutely ancient diner, you say that you’re scared of commitment and relationships, but you don’t seem to be afraid to be with me. 

Well, there’s no reason to be, the girl responds casually. Unbothered. 

Why’s that? He asks. 

She shrugs, nonchalant. Because we’re just pretending. 

You feel Seokjin’s grip tighten, feel his skin pressing against your own, the exposed part of your stomach where your shirt has ridden up. It’s almost like he’s afraid to lose you. The mere sensation, one you have felt hundreds, if not thousands of times before, sends shivers down your spine. 

“You cold?” He asks softly, pulling up the blanket that’s crumpled up by your feet, placing it gently over your bodies. 

You couldn’t care less about the movie playing in front of you. Not when Seokjin’s this close, not when he’s got his arms wrapped around you, not as you feel his soft breaths against your forehead, as he tucks you underneath a blanket. You’re frozen still next to him. You think that even your heart has stopped. 

Dozens of movie nights, but never one like this. Dozens of cuddle sessions, dozens of nights in. But this one feels brand new. 

Seokjin adjusts himself, turning in towards you. You can’t even feel yourself breathing. 

When did this start happening? You ask yourself. Why do your palms feel clammy? Why does his touch leave little embers along your skin? 

Traitorously, your mind responds, a question to a question. 

Hasn’t it always been like this?

Tuesdays have always been your least favorite day, because they’re Monday’s shitty cousin. They’re far enough into the week to have you not complain about it being the beginning of the week, but they’re too soon into the week to warrant any excitement about it ending. At least, when you wake up to go to work on a Monday, you know it’s a Monday. When you wake up to go to work on a Tuesday, you think it’s a Wednesday. Tuesday is the day of the week that wears a mask and tries to make you think it’s something else. 

After the printer jamming, salad dressing getting spilled on your pants, and your coworker losing his cool in the break room and breaking a cabinet door off of its hinges, you think that, when you get called into your boss’s office in the middle of the afternoon, there could be nothing worse for him to tell you. 

Instead, you walk out of his office with a brand new job title and a salary increase to match, positively ecstatic as you bounce all the way to your desk, whipping out your phone to text, well, who else?

[June 16, 2:43PM]

You: I GOT IT!!!

Seokjin: OMG SERIOUSLY?? Seokjin: CONGRATS YOU DESERVE IT !!!!

You: thank u jinie 8) now i can buy us more expensive wine for our movie nights

Seokjin: :D Seokjin: I’m so proud of you, you’re amazing!

And it’s the sort of text exchange that makes your heart soar, even more so than the promotion itself, because there is truly nothing more fulfilling than sharing your accomplishments with the people closest to you. 

You pack up later than usual that day, sitting at your desk for a little bit longer as you wrap up some emails and reorganize the space, determined to make it suitable for someone who just got a kick-ass raise. You’re leaning underneath your desk to gather your belongings, plopping your phone charger and a couple of nice blue pens into your bag, when you feel a sudden tap on your shoulder, scaring the absolute bejeezus out of you.

“Ow!” You shout as you bang the back of your head on the underside of your desk. Angry and in pain, you turn to face the asshole that’s just given you a bump on your scalp for the next week, only to find your expression lightening the moment you lay eyes on Seokjin, fresh from work with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Shocked and pleasantly surprised, you say, “Oh.”

“Don’t sound so excited to see me,” Seokjin jokes, rolling his eyes as he reaches a hand out to help you up. “You alright? I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

Rubbing the nape of your neck, you shake your head. “No, no, I’m alright. You just caught me by surprise. What’s all this?” You ask as Seokjin reaches his hand towards you, the flowery scent permeating the air around you. The bouquet in his hand is a collection of various pastel-colored flowers, baby’s breath and lilies, carnations and hydrangeas. 

“A congratulations,” Seokjin says in lieu of any other sort of explanation. “You deserve it.”

“You make it sound like I’m pregnant,” you tell him, grabbing your bag as you double-check your desk, making sure you haven’t left anything behind. 

“Oh my God, are you?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide. 

You laugh, shaking your head as you accept the flowers graciously, immediately holding them up to your nose. “No, I’m not, Seokjin. You’d be the first to know. But this is so sweet of you, you didn’t have to come to my work like this.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to pick you up for dinner?” 

Stopping in your tracks, you knit your brows together in confusion. “Dinner?”

“The reservation is at 5:45 so we’re already cutting it close,” Seokjin informs you, offering no explanation. “Come on. I had to pull a few strings to get this, so over my dead body will we arrive late.”

Seokjin reaches down to take your hand in his own, giving you no time to ask any more questions as he tugs you out of your office and into his little white Volkswagen, the scent of the flowers filling the air in between the two of you. 

When Seokjin somehow manages to get a parking spot a block away from the restaurant in question, your mouth practically drops open. 

It’s a cozy Lebanese place, complete with more plants you could ever dream of owning, and an outdoor patio decorated with warm fairy lights, lanterns hanging from strings above your head. It’s been ranked one of the best restaurants in the city for years now, and it is practically impossible to get a table (that is, unless you book a year in advance). 

“Seriously?” You ask, in awe, as Seokjin leads you towards the restaurant, the flowers resting safely on the passenger seat. 

“Of course,” Seokjin says like it’s nothing. “You deserve it.”

You aren’t a moment too late, the hostess happily seating the both of you at a corner table on the outside patio, the evening breeze sending flutters through your napkins as she hands you your menus and the wine list. 

“How did you swing this?” You ask, blown away as Seokjin grins. 

“Well, you know my friend, Yoongi?” He asks. You remember him, having met him a couple of times at Seokjin’s few-and-far-between house gatherings. He’s a dainty man with colorful hair who’s got the biggest alcohol tolerance you’ve ever seen. “He’s a food critic, so I had him do me a favor…”

“You didn’t have to do all of that for me,” you say. Seokjin probably owes Yoongi his first-born child, now. 

“But I wanted to,” Seokjin says firmly. “What kind of a best friend would I be if I didn’t celebrate something like this with you?”

Seokjin must know, after all of these years, that you aren’t one to make a big deal out of things. That you vastly prefer staying inside, curled up with a good book or an even better best friend, over going out and getting wasted, over eating at a too-expensive restaurant with portions the size of your fingernail, because that’s who you are. And still, he insists, because that’s who he is. Someone who thinks that everybody deserves a little celebration in their lives, a little love from the people closest to them. 

“You’d be my best friend no matter what,” you tell him, because it’s true. Because Seokjin has always been and will always be that person: the one you’ll never second-guess. “Even if you had gone home after work and passed out on your couch, you’d still be my most favorite person.”

Seokjin grins. “I’m your favorite person?”

“Well, other than Yoongi,” you tease. “After all, he did get us this reservation.”

“Can’t believe that I’m second best to a friend you’ve met like, twice,” Seokjin says, mock-offended. “How am I supposed to compete with that?”

“You’ll find a way,” you muse. He always does. It’s incredible—ever since you met Seokjin, you don’t think anyone’s ever quite stacked up to him. Nobody has ever compared. 

“I’m really proud of you, Y/N,” Seokjin says, the two of you clinking your wine glasses together to celebrate your promotion, celebrate the night, celebrate being together. “You deserved that position more than anybody else.”

“You don’t even know half of my coworkers,” you joke. 

“But I know you,” Seokjin reminds you. “And I know that you’re the most hardworking, determined, focused person I’ve ever met. When you want something, you get it.”

“What?” You ask, a hand reaching out over the table to caress his own, thumb rubbing against the back of his hand. “You’re like that, too. You’re honest and real and certain.” They’re traits you’ve always admired about him, things that you wish you could be but know that you’ll never compare to him. 

“No,” Seokjin says, with a shake of his head. “I’m really not. I wish, though.”

Seokjin’s the truest person you know. What secret could he be keeping? Why hasn’t he told you? Doesn’t he know that you’d care for him, stay by his side no matter what? Not a damn thing in the world could ever make you leave him. 

Your waiter comes around to take your order, and you and Seokjin order a variety of appetizers that you fully intend on sharing with each other. You’ve never really been able to keep to your own plates. There is something so genuinely wonderful about sharing. Afterwards, Seokjin launches into this hilarious story about some old college friends that he had recently heard back from, ones that you’d met once or twice during university but never cemented a real friendship with, unlike Seokjin. 

Quite honestly, you couldn’t care less for them or what they’re doing, but Seokjin is so animated, so vivacious and excited to be telling you about them, that his words are music to your ears. Nothing makes you quite as happy as Seokjin when he smiles, when he laughs, when he’s fucking effervescent. His joy brings you joy, and you suppose that that’s really what it means to care for someone. To love them. When even something as simple as being in their presence makes your heart feel lighter. 

In the evening light, illuminated by the warm flame of the lanterns littering the sky above you, the fairy lights along the fence that encloses the patio, the house lights from the building next door, Seokjin glows. The way his body bounces as he speaks makes it look like a yellow halo surrounds him, his gold jewelry glinting when it catches the light, shimmering. He looks straight out of a movie, straight off of a red carpet, warm brown eyes and an honest smile to match, charismatic and golden and real. 

The craziest part is that he’s always looked like this. Always outshined everybody, no matter his surroundings. Every day, you wonder how on Earth you could have gotten so lucky to have been able to meet him. How blessed you are to be his best friend. How fortunate you are to love him. 

When your meal arrives, the two of you take a break from laughing aloud in this ambient, cozy restaurant, likely bothering all of the people within a twenty-feet radius of your table, and dig in, only emitting the occasional groan of pleasure. It’s no wonder this restaurant has been ranked the best in the city for years on end. Every bite explodes on your tongue, decorates your taste buds. You won’t be surprised if, next time you go over, Seokjin’s recreating every dish you have tonight. He’s always had a knack for it, anyway. 

“You know,” he says over a mouthful of zucchini, “you’re my favorite person, too.”

Normally you’d say something cheesy and dramatic, something along the lines of a sarcastic I’m touched or even a self-deprecating At least I’m number one at something, but instead, you smile softly to yourself. You always knew you and Seokjin were entwined with each other, but it makes your heart flutter to hear him say it for himself. 

“I know,” you murmur. “I’ll never forget that.”

“I don’t know, I just—” Seokjin begins, pausing. It’s not the sort of stop where he’s trying to figure out what words to say. He already knows. He’s just waiting to see if they’re the right ones. “You know, it’s always been you, Y/N. A lot of my life has always been uncertain, but you—you’re the only thing I’m always sure of.”

Afterwards, Seokjin walks you to the door of your apartment, the two of you lingering in the doorway, him refusing to leave and you refusing to say goodbye. 

“Don’t forget these,” Seokjin says, handing you the brown paper bag filled with your leftovers, various to-go boxes filled with treats. 

“What? I thought you wanted them,” you say, eyes wide. “Don’t you want them as reference for a recipe?”

“No, it’s alright,” Seokjin tells you with a shake of his head. “I’ll remember.” 

“Are you sure?” You ask. Seokjin nods, certain. He’s got a steely expression to him, one filled with determination. There’s something he’s not saying, and you’re almost positive it’ll come out tonight. Maybe he knows that you ate that Pop-Tart in junior year. Maybe he’s about to get his revenge. To protect yourself, you smile, telling him, “I had a really nice time tonight, Seokjin. You didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

“I wanted to,” Seokjin repeats. He need offer no other explanation. “Any excuse to spend time with you, I’ll take.”

You laugh. “I suppose that that’s what this whole pretend-dating thing is about, right?” 

Seokjin’s face goes blank.

“What?”

“Well,” you say, shrugging as you reach out to grab his hand. “Dinner tonight, isn’t that the sort of thing you’d do on a date? That’s why you took me out to celebrate instead of just bringing over some wine and takeout. I have to admit, you’re pretty good at this whole dating thing. Must be why you offered, right?”

“Y/N, I—”

“All of those romantic things you said, us playing footsie underneath the table, getting the reservation from Yoongi, I mean. You’ve always loved pulling out all of the stops. You’re giving me such unrealistic expectations for dating, you know?” You chide, grinning as you toy with Seokjin’s fingers amongst your own. Looking up at him, he looks frozen solid, gazing at you with an unreadable expression. “Hey, is everything alright?” Your hand trails up to his shoulder, forcing him to meet your eyes with his own. 

They’re swirling in ink. 

And then, he leans down, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in, and presses his lips against your own. Shocked, you gasp into his mouth, feel the heat of his lips on yours as he kisses you, fervent and desperate, like he’s got something to prove. You feel your heart race, dropping the brown paper bag by your side on your hardwood floor as he presses in closer, insistent. It’s as if your entire body shuts down at his touch, at the feeling of him against you, on you, surrounding you. 

Eventually, your mind comes to, flickering back to life after being entirely short-circuited, and you pull out of his grasp, pushing him away with your palms against his chest, gasping for air. 

“Seokjin, what the—”

“I’ve wanted to do that since I met you,” Seokjin tells you, and no longer does what he say sound like a line straight out of the Dating 101 Handbook. It sounds honest, and what once was something you treasured about him has morphed into fear, into words you dread coming from in between his lips. 

“No, that’s not—”

“What do you mean?” He asks, insistent. He takes a step towards you, and it makes you take a bigger step back. Being far away from him makes you ache, but being close to him is absolutely unbearable. It’s impossible to know which one your heart would prefer. “That’s how I feel. That’s how I’ve always felt.”

“I can’t—I need—” You stumble over your words, backing up into your living room, hand reaching out to the doorknob. You don’t know what you can’t do. You don’t know what you need. All you know is that your heart hasn’t stopped racing the moment his lips met yours, and that you aren’t sure what will happen if Seokjin stands outside your apartment any longer. “I just—”

“I know,” Seokjin says with a nod. His face is beet red and he looks just as breathless, sending your way a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know that you don’t feel the same. But I just—I wanted you to know.”

“I don’t know what I feel,” you whisper to yourself, eyes boring holes into your shoes. “How could I?”

“Y/N,” Seokjin says, reaching a hand out. “I’m sorry—”

“No,” you interrupt. “Don’t apologize. Just—please, just go. Please.”

Seokjin doesn’t protest. Not as you shoo him away, not as you begin to close the door in front of him. 

The door is nearly shut, barely inches away from the door frame, when you hear him call your name. “Y/N,” he says. If you were any more heartless, you’d shut the door, let the last thing you hear from him be your own name. But you aren’t, and not once have you ever closed the door on Seokjin. Not now. Not ever. 

“Yes?” You whisper, terrified of what he might say but too desperate to avoid it altogether. 

You hear him hiccup. You don’t want to see him cry. 

“You’re my best friend.”

(Kim Seokjin prides himself for being a man of few mistakes. He has good time-management skills, triple checks his entire apartment every time he leaves, and only illegally parks in the fire lane when he knows he won’t get a ticket. He’s got great foresight, makes educated decisions, and generally feels as though everything he does will benefit somebody, in the long run. 

You always tell him that you envy how put-together his life is, how picture perfect it seems—stable job, nice apartment, meals prepped and ready to go in his fridge. And even if you aren’t nearly as obsessed with falling in love as he is (and he’s willing to admit that, at least), you tell him that it’s admirable that he has all of this time to go on dates with women he’s met off of Bumble or through a friend of a friend, making an effort to go out into the world and do something with his love life. 

The truth is, Seokjin has been on more dates in the past year than to work events in the evenings and on weekends, but he’s never seen the same person twice. Sometimes, he ends up with a phone number punched into his contacts and a promise to meet again as friends, but most of the time they pat him on the back after it’s over and tell him that they hope he’ll get over his ex soon. 

Seokjin hasn’t had a real ex, a real breakup, since sophomore year of college, when his long-distance girlfriend from high school told him she couldn’t bear to listen to him how much he loves his new best friend any longer. 

It doesn’t take a genius to guess who that best friend is. 

Seokjin’s always been sort of foolish, a little too forward at the best of times and terribly obvious at the worst of times. Always holding out hope that maybe one day you’ll pick up on all of his slip-ups, and he’ll stop acting like a bumbling idiot around you. 

Admittedly, he had gotten pretty fed-up by the time he invited you to dinner to celebrate your promotion. He rolled up to your office in a silk button down and a bouquet of the nicest flowers Hoseok could find, brought you to a restaurant you had been dying to go to ever since you moved to the city, and told you that you were the one constant in his life. And he thought that maybe, just maybe, you would realize. And he wouldn’t have to do everything by himself. 

It’s a wonder that you hadn’t figured it out. 

At least, not until you said goodbye to him, standing underneath the wooden door frame to your apartment, and he leaned down and kissed you. 

Seokjin is a man of few mistakes, but he’s almost positive that that one was the most costly. He had been psyching himself up in his head the entire ride home, telling himself I can do it, I’m gonna tell her, what’s the worst you could do? 

As it turns out, the worst you could do is reject him. 

Seokjin knows you don’t feel the same way. He doesn’t need to go on any dates, doesn’t need to read any more novels or watch any more movies to know that. Maybe you had known all along, you just never knew how to let him down easy. Maybe you were just hoping that if you never acknowledged it, it would go away, age like fine wine, bottled up for an eternity. 

But when he was standing in the flower shop, lingering behind the counter as Hoseok insisted he knew the perfect bouquet to make, there was a little spark in his heart that thought, maybe. Just maybe. 

“Think she’ll like it?” Seokjin had asked hesitantly, fingers curling around one of the petals of the lilies in the bouquet as Hoseok rang him up. 

“What do mean, of course she will!” Hoseok says. He has long been witness to Seokjin’s fruitless efforts to get you to see how he feels. “She’d be a fool not to realize.”

Seokjin’s never been sure if you were the fool, or if he has been, all along. 

“I don’t know, Hoseok,” he had said with a sigh, handing over his credit card. “I feel like telling her might be the wrong move.”

“Why? From what it sounds like, you two are really close,” Hoseok had asked innocently. He even shimmied in a tulip, squeezing it into the middle of the bouquet with nimble fingers. “Are you afraid she’ll say no?”

“I’m afraid I’ll ruin everything,” Seokjin had told him. He’d rather keep you close as a best friend than lose you entirely in the hopes of confessing. That has always been his priority. It always will be. 

Hoseok had laughed, disbelieving. Seokjin had bitterly assumed that he’s never been in love with a best friend. It sucks hard, but Seokjin was in no position to ruin Hoseok’s day by telling him that. “You won’t ruin everything, Jin. You’re a wonderful guy with a great personality. I think it’s worth telling her, you know?” Seokjin did not know. “Like, if you don’t, you’ll never know what could have been.”

And perhaps that was the reason that he leaned down to press his lips against yours. On the off chance, the miniscule possibility that you might feel the same way. His mother had been absolutely insistent that you were in love with him, and while he trusts his mother’s instincts, Seokjin’s known you much longer and much closer than she ever will. And you were never in love with him. Friends is all you have ever known with him. It’s all that the two of you will ever be. 

You’re lucky, Seokjin thinks as he sulks around in his apartment, having decided to give your relationship some space after he completely annihilated it the Tuesday prior. Unrequited love isn’t something he’d wish on his worst enemy. It’s a ray of sunshine surrounded by clouds. It’s the constant reminder that even though what you already have will never be enough, losing it entirely is a fate much worse. 

On the bright side, at least you still tag him in Facebook memes.

Seokjin gets a phone call from an unknown number that Saturday evening, as he cooks a meal for one and pretends that his apartment doesn’t feel bone-crushingly empty without you to fill up the space. He lets the phone ring all the way through the first time—he’s not in the mood to bait those scammy telemarketers tonight, and gets back to cooking. And then his phone rings a second time, same number, and suddenly Seokjin feels as though it might be something urgent. What if it’s a coworker whose number he doesn’t have? Oh God, what if it’s his boss?

“Hello?” Seokjin asks, picking up the call and holding his phone between his ear and his shoulder. 

“Seokjin?”

It’s Cynthia.

“Cynthia?” Seokjin asks, just to make sure he’s not wrong. “How did you get my number?”

“I looked you up on the White Pages,” Cynthia tells him. Oh, yes. He forgot that that existed. “I would have asked Y/N, but she would have gotten suspicious.”

“Oh, uh…” Seokjin hesitates, chuckling nervously. “Y/N? Have you, uh, spoken to her recently?”

Cynthia lets out a deep sigh on the other end, what sounds like a billion thoughts weighing her down. “Yeah, she and I had a girls’ night last night. My husband’s away on business.”

“Oh, how are you both doing?” Seokjin asks. He has the decency to pretend that he hasn’t been positively miserable the past few days.

“Wonderful, thanks,” Cynthia said. “Seokjin, did you kiss Y/N?”

“It was a mistake,” Seokjin immediately says. He shouldn’t have done it and now he’s paying the price. He has no idea how long it will take to repair your relationship, or, even worse, if you’ll just go back to the way it was before and pretend it never happened in the first place. “I wanted to tell her that, but I haven’t seen her recently.”

“Don’t,” Cynthia says harshly, making Seokjin jump a bit, wincing as some hot steam hits his bare skin. “Don’t tell her it was a mistake.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin frowns. Isn’t that what you want? It’s blatantly obvious that you don’t really want a relationship at all, let alone with him. Seokjin doesn’t know what he was thinking when he thought he could change your mind. He was just being selfish. The chance to get to date you under the guise of guidance, and he snatched it up at the first opportunity. 

Well, look at him now. 

“She’ll be heartbroken if you tell her that,” Cynthia tells him, and Seokjin nearly pours boiling hot water all over his arm at the words. “You can’t.”

“What do you mean, heartbroken? She doesn’t want to date me. I’m the one in love with her. I’m the one who should be suffering,” Seokjin says into the phone, his heart starting to race. He wills himself to calm down, to act like everything is normal, but he can’t stop thinking about you. About what Cynthia had said. 

“No, you’re wrong,” Cynthia says. “You couldn’t be more wrong even if you tried. You might be in love with her but she loves you back. She does, I swear.”

Seokjin’s brain nearly short-circuits, the power sparking. “What?” He asks, too hopeful for his own good. “She can’t. I’ve loved her for so long, but we’ve always just been friends. That’s what she wanted.”

“She wants you, Seokjin,” Cynthia says firmly, almost as if she’s reaching through the phone to knock some sense into him. “She didn’t realize that she loved you until you kissed her. And then everything fell into place.”

“You’re lying,” Seokjin says, even though he knows that Cynthia isn’t. 

“Want to know why she hasn’t really dated anyone since midway through college?”

Is it the same reason Seokjin hasn’t, either?

“She was waiting for you,” Cynthia tells you. “She just didn’t know it.”

Seokjin’s about to faint. 

He can hear Cynthia smiling through the phone. “She’s always been waiting for you.”)

[June 21st, 1:22PM]

Seokjin: I’m on my way over to your apartment Seokjin: Don’t ask questions

You’ve long learned by now to listen to Seokjin, to never question his methods. And for once, when you receive a suspicious text out of the blue that says Don’t ask questions, you aren’t scared. You’re thrilled. 

The last time you went this long without contacting each other was when you were just starting to become friends in college, during orientation week where you met five hundred people a day and forgot all of them by the next morning. You and Seokjin eventually caught up with each other when you started seeing each other in the halls of your dorm, living onto a few doors down from each other. 

You didn’t want to be the one to initiate contact. Seokjin had kissed you and then instantly looked like he regretted the entire thing. He had been sitting on his feelings long before you knew that yours even existed. He deserved the space. 

You, well. Cynthia, the wise, wedded woman she is, seems to think that communication is key. Perhaps that’s why she’s been so successful in her love life. 

There’s a knock on your door six minutes after you received the text, the fastest he’s ever gotten to your apartment. 

When you open it, you find a familiar sight: Seokjin, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and a nervous grin on his face, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet like a teenager about to ask his crush to the school dance. 

“Long time no see,” you tell him. 

“I missed you,” Seokjin says honestly. “I really, really did.”

“I did, too,” you tell him. It’s impossible to be away from him. You figured that out briefly when he went abroad in junior year, but were brutally reminded this past week what life is like without him to light it up. And it’s dull. Empty. Missing something. 

“These are for you,” Seokjin says. It’s an entire bouquet of tulips, red and yellow and orange and pink. The scent immediately wafts through the air, brightening up your sullen apartment. 

“They’re beautiful, Seokjin,” you tell him, pressing your nose against the petals as you take in the aroma. The flowers are gorgeous, but Seokjin, as always, steals the show. 

“I was going to bring takeout, but then I thought that you might have already eaten lunch,” Seokjin tells you. 

“Then we can do takeout for dinner,” you suggest as an alternative, fishing through your kitchen cabinets for a vase to put out on your countertop, filled with the tulips and carnations and lilies and hydrangeas. The bouquet he had given you on Tuesday is sitting in your bedroom, and you’re giving it all the plant food you can get your hands on, determined to make them last. 

“You want me to stay for dinner?” Seokjin asks, an eyebrow raised. 

It’s high time you were honest, too. 

“I want you to stay forever,” you admit, and it feels as though the dam has broken, like the first droplet has been spilled and the rest is soon to follow. “I can’t tell you how much I hated being away from you like this. Everything in my life revolves around you.”

“I think about you, every day,” Seokjin says as he comes up to you, joining you in the kitchen as you fill an oversized mason jar with water. “Scratch that. Every hour. Every minute, every second. You’re always on my mind.”

“I thought that was just how you were best friends with someone,” you tell him, feeling the warmth of his body as he stands next to you. “I thought that all of the kind gestures, the traditions, the words, that was what being best friends was. And it is. But I never realized that that was what being in love was like, as well.”

“I thought you’d never figure it out,” Seokjin muses, and it sounds so sad but he looks so happy. “I was ready to never tell you. I was too nervous, every time I’m near you I get all sweaty.”

“You were just going to be in love with me forever?” You ask, turning to him. The thought devastates you, the idea that he was willing to never tell you, to love you silently, for the rest of time. He would have never known what could have been, would have never allowed himself that luxury. And he was okay with it.

“I would rather love you on my own than lose you,” Seokjin tells you firmly. “You’re my best friend. That will never change.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Seokjin interrupts. “I had made that decision. I was willing to live with it.”

“That’s what people do, isn’t it?” You ask, reaching out to hold his hand in your own, as you have done so many times before, and will do so many times more. The feeling never gets old. The spark never fades. “When they’re in love.”

“I don’t know how you never noticed,” Seokjin jokes, laughing more at himself than you. “I thought I was being so goddamn obvious. Any time I said or did anything that even slightly alluded to the fact that I was in love with you, I started panicking because I thought you’d figure me out. And you never did.”

“I think I just needed a bit of coaxing,” you tell him, hand reaching up to turn his face towards you, palms resting on your cheek. “I would have loved you, forever. I just needed you to tell me that you’d love me, forever, too.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Seokjin promises with a grin. “I’ll love you forever and a day.”

Seokjin leans down, big palms resting on your waist as he finally, fucking finally, presses his lips against yours. It’s soft and warm and cozy, the heat enveloping you as you hold his cheeks in your hands, let him push closer and closer, refusing to let you go. The feeling sends warmth through your veins, sparks a fire in your body that you wouldn’t will away even if you wanted to. Seokjin kisses you, and you kiss back, and it feels like a promise. With your lips against his, and his against yours, you tell each other, that you were meant to be together, and that you always will be. 

You had always wondered why you were never really interested in dating anyone. Never wanted to find someone new, a relationship filled with love and laughter and joy, never wanted to go out on fancy dates and tiptoe around each other, a nervous confession on the tips of your tongues. But now, as Seokjin giggles into another kiss he presses against your lips, you know: you already had exactly what you were looking for. 

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

[your-eternal-muse]

Home

Summery: After months of being held against your will, you escape into the world, and await for the moment when you can return home.

Warnings: Mentions of abduction, vague mentions of abuse, talk of injury, thoughts of giving up, mentions of weight loss

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Words: 2.5k

Authors Note: Wow. It’s been a hot fucking minute huh? Sorry for taking so long. I was moving and unpacking, and getting situated and than I got a new job and so many other things. This is the piece that got me back into the writing flow, so that's fun. I am still working on requests, and while they may not be posted in the order that I received them, they still will be posted. I will also be posting little one shots in between them as well, because my brain doesn’t know when to fucking stop. I missed you guys. I hope you’re all doing well. Also I’m at 950 followers??? That’s insane. I don’t believe it. Anyway, enjoy!

I run.

I run through gaps in between trees, stepping on sticks, ducking under branches.

Every muscle, every bone in my body is screaming at me to stop. To give up, fall to the ground and curl up at the base of a tree and give in to the darkness.

But I can’t.

I can’t stop running, not until I know I’m safe.

Not until I’m home.

The air is brisk, and the leaves crunching underneath my bare feet are different shades of decay.

The sunlight breaking through the canopy does little to tell me what time of day it is, or even what direction I’m going. 

So I just run.

Away from the little wooden house where I’ve been beaten almost everyday for who knows how long.

I’ve lost count of the days.

But I got lucky.

He’s always gone during the day, and I’ve lost enough weight so I could slip my wrists through the zip tie that had me bound.

I’m losing stamina, but I keep pushing forward.

Please, god, give me something, anything.

I stumble through a wall of brush, falling to the gravel ground of the side of the road.

A road.

I push myself up, my steps stuttering as I gain my back my balance.

I turn my head, looking both ways down the seemingly deserted road, and I now believe in a mighty being above because I see gas pumps not even a half a mile down the road from where I’m standing.

I start running as fast as I can, limping every other step, trying to pick up a speed my body has forgotten.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and every breath feels like it’s being ripped out of me, but I couldn’t stop now even if I wanted to.

I turn into the gravel driveway of the station speeding towards the front door, barreling inside, heaving for air as I turn and lock the deadbolt on the door.

I flip the sign from open to closed for good measure, before slipping down to the floor in a heap.

“Oh sweet baby jesus above, darling what happened to you?” A woman runs out from behind the counter, crouching down next to me pushing dirty matted hair out of my face, hands running gently over my exposed skin.

My voice is hoarse, and my throat burns when I speak.

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent y/n y/l/n of the Behavioral Analysis unit of the F.B.I.” I let my head fall back against the glass of the door. “I don’t, I don’t have my badge otherwise I would show you.”

Her eyes are deep green, and kind. Worry creases her already wrinkled face, and her skin looks soft and loose.

“Oh honey, it’s okay. I believe you. Can you tell me what happened?”

Tears start to form in my eyes and I can’t seem to move anymore. “I was abducted by someone we were chasing in May, and I just escaped.” 

A hand comes to cover her mouth. 

“I really need to use your phone to contact my team.” 

She couldn’t be older than 50, with long dirty blonde hair starting to gray at the roots.

I couldn’t help but feel the trust swarm my chest, too tired to put up walls anymore.

“Oh of course, honey. Let me help you behind the counter, and we’ll get you all set.”

She gingerly helped me back to my feet, wrapping my arm over her shoulders to help me sit on a stool behind the counter. 

She makes sure I’m set sturdy on the seat, before handing me a landline from beside the till.

“You use that to call however many people you want, and I’m gonna go get you some water and something to eat.”

She starts to walk away but she snaps her fingers and turns around, grabbing something from the counter and draping it over my shoulders.

It was a fuzzy winter jacket.

“It’s almost November, you’re probably freezing too.”

Her accent is a gentle southern, like a grandma who makes peach cobbler and gives the best hugs. 

I shove my arms through the sleeves, zipping it up to my chin. 

Almost November.

It’s October.

I’ve been gone for five months.

October, and I’m wearing shorts and a ripped tank top.

I look down at the landline and take a breath to steady my trembling hands before dialing the number I know by heart.

Three rings, and he picks up.

“This is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

I start to sob at the sound of his voice, a voice I never thought I’d be able to hear again.

I start to collapse within on myself.

“Hello?”

I haven’t said anything.

I take a breath, wiping my nose on the back of my hand before speaking.

“Hey, Spence.”

It’s silent, and I can faintly hear the sound of something crashing to the floor.

“Y-Y/n?”

“Jesus, I never thought I’d get to hear your voice again.”

“Where are you? Are you safe? Is he there?” He’s frantic, his voice rushed and high.

“I don’t know where I am, but I’m safe. I’m at some gas station. A nice woman is helping me.”

I lick my lips and I can taste the saltiness of my snot. “I got out.” 

“Penelope, I need you to trace this call right now.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

He has it on speaker, and I openly sob at the twinkle of her voice.

“Penelope…” is all I can muster, but it’s enough to hear her gasp, and then her own sob.

“Hold on tight sweet girl! We’re coming!”

I hear typing, and background voices getting louder.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Derek?” I gasp, bringing a hand to the center of my chest and grasping the fabric tight in my hands.

I lean back against the wall as the woman comes up with bottles of water, and bags of different foods.

Tears stream down my face, and the woman pushes hair out of my face, pinning it back with clips from her own hair.

“Is that you stud muffin?” I hope he hears the small smile in my voice.

I hear a shaky breath. “Yeah it’s me sweetheart.”

“I got her! She's a few miles outside of Chattanooga Tennessee!”

Tennessee? How the hell did I get to Tennessee?

“Derek, go tell the others. We’ll meet you at the jet.”

I hear shuffling on the other end as I break the seal on the water, before taking a long, much needed gulp.

“Are you still there y/n?” His voice is laced with concern, and I can picture the crease above his brows, the shakiness of his hands. 

“I’m here.”

“You stay right there, okay? Don’t move. We're on our way.”

The woman hands me a box of tissues, and I take a few wiping my eyes, but my cheeks stay wet.

“God, I missed your voice.”

A moment of silence, and I know he’s trying to collect himself on the other end of the phone, trying to stay strong for me.

“I missed yours too. I called your phone every day just to listen to your voice. I probably left a thousand voicemails.”

The woman opens a bag of chips for me, before kneeling and pulling out a first aid kit from below the counter.

“I thought about you every day. About your voice. Your smile. I just wanted you to walk through the door and say some weird statistic and we’d fly off into the sunset.”

I can hear him choke back tears and all I want to do is hold him, like his pain is somehow my own.

“I tried. I tried so hard, but you had disappeared without a trace. But I never stopped. I would never stop looking for you.”

“I know, Spence. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you, and I never will.”

Muffled voices in the background and he sniffles. “I have to hang up, baby. We’re taking off. We’ll be there in a little under two hours okay?”

Two hours.

“Okay. Please hurry.” I close my eyes, picturing his smile in my mind. “I miss you.”

“We will. I love you. See you soon. Hang on.”

The line goes dead, and I bring the phone slowly back down from my ear, hanging up.

I take a chip and pop it in my mouth. 

The woman stands in front of me, and with a cotton pad with alcohol, starts to clean at the cuts on my face.

“What’s your name?” I ask, feeling bad, that in the 20 minutes I’ve been here already, I hadn’t even stopped to ask.

“Luanne, sweetpea. It seems like you got a lot of people that care about you.”

I nod my head, popping another chip into my mouth. “My team. They’re my family. We were on a case in Chicago in May when…”

Bile starts to form at the back of my throat, but I shove it back down with another swig of water. 

I lick my lips, trying to get rid of the sting of the salt in the cracks. “Thank you. For helping me. I know you didn’t have to but-”

“Sweetpea,” she holds my face in her hands, wiping away the tears that are still falling. “You have been through hell and back again. You deserve all the kindness in the world.” She pulls me into herself, and I nuzzle my face into the fabric of her shirt. 

It smells like lavender.

“You’re safe now. Any bastard that tries to come in is going to have to go through me first.”

I clutch onto her shirt, basking in the first kind human touch I’ve had in months. 

She smooths down my hair, soft and slow, and I listen to the heartbeat in her chest.

“You know, you remind me so much of my daughter. She looks soft on the outside, but she’s one hell of a fighter. I think you’d both get along rather swell.”

She stands, and just holds me, running her fingers through my hair, as I soak her shirt with my tears. 

I’m never going to forget her, forget this. 

I will spend every day of the rest of my life trying to repay this woman's kindness anyway I can. 

Thank you, will never be thanks enough.

Flashing lights appear outside the window.

~~~

I’m tired. 

My eyes burn with every blink and there’s an insistent pounding matching the beating of my heart inside my skull.

It hurts to breathe.

It hurts to move.

I’m freezing.

I tighten the blanket around me as medics move around me, getting things ready for when I’ll finally cave and agree to go to the hospital.

But I can’t leave.

I won’t leave. 

Not yet. 

The red and blue lights don’t help the migraine swimming behind my eyes, and everyone is talking too loud.

Why is everyone talking so loud?

My eyes look across the darkening parking lot, and Luanne is leaning against the hood of a cop car, her hands in her pockets, and she smiles at me, her hair blowing softly in the cold October wind.

But I hear fast paced tires on gravel, and my eyes move from her to the two black SUVS pulling into the lot.

I’m moving. 

Thoughts aren’t even processing in my brain, my neurons are stagnant. I’m moving on pure instinct. 

The car door opens before it’s even stopped, and the blanket falls from my shoulders in a heap on the floor of the ambulance.

Time is an illusion. 

It’s completely stopped as my feet meet the gravel, and I push the dirt behind me, moving towards the one person I thought about whenever I got the chance.

It’s just me and him, moving towards one another, two unstoppable forces about to test Newton's law.

My eyes start at his feet.

His pants fall over the top of his chuck taylors, and I’m positive two different socks sit below them. 

Higher.

Closer.

His hips.

He’s not wearing a belt. His holster is crooked. He was in a rush.

Higher.

Closer.

His chest. 

His vest is missing. His tie is loose, and the top couple of buttons are undone.

I can see his collar bones.

Higher.

Closer.

His neck, the bobbing adam's apple.

Higher.

Closer.

His lips, pursed.

His nose, red.

Highest.

Here.

His eyes. 

Deep hazel, honey surrounding darkened pupils, and I fly into his arms.

Ice melts.

My head clears.

I wrap my arms around his neck, shoving my face into his shoulder, inhaling like it is my first breath.

My feet aren’t on the ground anymore. 

He holds me, tightly against him, hands splayed across my back, his own face buried into my neck.

Our heart beats sync. For a moment, we're one. 

And then time seems to start again, and I pull back, eyes bleary, and I grab his face, crashing my lips to his in a desperate plea. 

He breaths into me, and I know, for certain, for the first time in months, that I am safe.

I am home.

We break, and our tears mix on cold cheeks, and I can’t stop looking at him, touching him, feeling the fabric of his jacket beneath my fingertips, the growth of his stomach beneath my own.

“I love you, I love you so much, oh my god.” His hands are all over me. My face, my neck, my arms. 

I never thought I’d get to touch him again, get to feel him, get to kiss him.

“You’re here. I love you. You’re here.” Is all I can manage as I bring his face to mine again.

I played out entire scenes where we did exactly this inside my head while that man did whatever he wanted to me.

I had all the things I wanted to say inside my head, but now that it’s real, now that it’s forged into reality, words fail. 

Nothing I can or want to say means anything at this moment. 

Nothing matters other than me and him.

A new hand is on my shoulder, and I lift my head to see Hotch. 

And so I am passed, from person to person, being held and squeezed and kissed and cried on until everyone has felt the breath leave my lungs, and I have felt the warmth of their skin. 

I return to Spencer, and he drapes his coat over my shoulders and zips it up to my chin, before the medics walk over.

They don’t say anything, and they don’t need to. 

I simply grab his hand and start moving towards the ambulance. 

“We’ll meet you at the hospital.” Hotch's voice is stern, and soft at the same time. 

I nod, and climb into the back, Spencer right behind me.

The medics get to work, and I feel my eyes droop, feeling his hand in mine.

He brings it up to his lips, pressing a kiss against each knuckle. “It’s okay. You can rest now. You’ve fought long enough.”

I smile at him, watching the tears stream down his cheeks. 

I succumb to the darkness.

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[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 38

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: A new semester is starting

A/N: We are finally done with the holiday chapters! When it comes to this chapter, I'd like to state that I only have some experience from a couple of Finnish universities so I really don't know a whole lot about how certain things work in practice in the States, so please ignore the possible inaccuracies for the sake of this fic. It feels weird after a couple of 'bigger' chapters to have a bit more 'fillery' one... but... but... there's Caleo in the beginning?? So I hope you'll enjoy nevertheless. I wish I could spread even more love towards this ship because they deserve it but sadly there are only so few hours in a day. The fandom seems so quiet these days...

Anyway, enough rambling! Now let's get to this chapter, and the usual reminder: I love to hear what you think! All comments are much appreciated :)

Words: 2500+ 

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

...

”Is something the matter? You look quite unhappy.”

Leo felt arms sneak around his shoulders from behind while he was sitting on the common area sofa, staring at his laptop with a frown. Some of the speaker’s reddish brown hair fell in front of his face, the smell of cinnamon drifting into his nose, and for some reason that alone was enough to relieve some of Leo’s uneasiness. The small, pale hands found their way down his biceps and stopped there, but he wasn’t going to complain. If he was honest, he was really happy about Calypso’s growing confidence when it came to the physical affection, because it told him she really trusted him. Sometimes he was still amazed that he out of all the people had managed to break the ice around her.

Before Leo let himself get too lovestruck, though, he reminded himself why he was staring at his laptop in the first place. The new semester was starting and that naturally meant new courses, new assignments, new texts to read and… new emails from his professors. One specific email had managed to twist his stomach quite badly. In it, the professor from his chemistry lab class had asked him for a meeting, and Leo assumed he wanted to discuss what had happened on the exam day. Wishing that he could just ignore that said message, he turned his attention back to his girlfriend.

“Just uni issues… nothing more severe this time,” Leo replied half jokingly. The holidays had given him some perspective on what really was important to him and failing a class didn’t feel quite as big an issue anymore. It was inconvenient, yes, on a few levels, but not entirely unfixable.

“Oh?” Calypso finally let her hands slide off of him and sat down next to him. She seemed a bit relieved that this was about the university and not something that was out of her reach, and if Leo was honest, he couldn’t blame her. “What kind of issues?”

“A professor wants to meet me face to face tomorrow. Probably to talk about my recent chemistry lab test or something like that.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Hmm… Isn’t it quite unusual for them to give special focus to a single student at this stage?” Calypso asked.

“Apparently they still do that in my department. Who knows, maybe they think I’ve caused them enough trouble by now and want me to quit.”

“But what happened in your lab test was not your fault. Do you think you are any closer to being able to finish it in case you get another chance?”

When Calypso was looking at him with those almost chocolate brown eyes, he felt that it wasn’t impossible.

“Some smart person once said that I need to believe in myself more, so that’s what I need to learn to do. After that… it might be possible.”

“I’m glad you’re listening to me at least sometimes.” Calypso gave him a lopsided smile. “The fact that you know what you should do means that you’re already on your way there.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Wanting to talk about something else, Leo asked: “Well, what about you? How are you feeling about the upcoming semester?”

“I’m feeling… pretty good about it, you know? Sure, I’ve been reading our course plans and it sounds like our professors are planning to make us work like every day is an exam day and we have some group assignments and important presentations coming up, but… I really like learning? And I like listening to the conversations between our professors and my fellow students during our lectures because it’s something I never got to do when I was stuck at home… I feel like I get new points of views from them all the time. And Annabeth is a really big help; she knows everything about everything so if I ever feel like I can’t follow the lectures, she can always clarify them to me.”

“I have a hard time imagining you not being able to keep up with the professors… but yeah, it’s good you can ask for her help if needed.”

Calypso nodded.

“You know, I’m glad you two got your issues sorted out in the fall,” Leo added as an afterthought.

Calypso looked up at him with a slight frown as if she had completely forgotten about what exactly had happened in the fall. “Oh, right, that. I feel like it was just one big misunderstanding. Both of us realized that we can’t get stuck on something that happened so long ago.”

Leo couldn’t deny that he had also felt a bit jealous of Percy when he had first found out about his and Calypso’s past, but she had clearly moved on, so he wasn’t holding a grudge anymore either. Calypso had decided to date him, and that’s what mattered.

“Yeah, I know from my personal experiences that ain’t worth it,” he replied.

Calypso leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.

“I have a… maybe a bit weird question. Do you believe in some kind of greater power? You know, like gods?”

Leo wondered why she would ask that. “I dunno. Maybe. I’m not really strongly for or against that. I think I’m the kind of person who needs to see it to believe it, but I don’t think it’s impossible. But why do you ask?”

“This will sound extremely cheesy but sometimes I wonder… if there was a reason why we two met. Like some greater power that pushed us together for some reason.”

“Wow. I don’t know if any greater powers had their fingers in that but I am glad that it happened.” Leo threw his arm around her shoulder and wondered briefly why it felt like such a natural thing to do. At one point he had been too intimidated to initiate any kind of physical contact but now that they were more open with each other and she had seen him in some of his worse moments – he didn’t mind anymore.

“Yeah. Me too.” Calypso whispered.

Only the buzzing of the fridge and some other kitchen machinery could be heard on the background while the flatmates were simply enjoying each other’s company, resting their heads against each other, but eventually Calypso suggested:

“Hey... I think I need something that will allow me to disconnect a bit, so… how about some Friends?”

Leo didn’t have anything against that suggestion. In fact, he always enjoyed the TV show or movie nights with Calypso, for various reasons. “Sure. That sounds great to me. You know I’m always ready to roast my homeboy Chandler.”

“I know you are.” Calypso nudged him and took the remote control to find the right episode. As they started watching and commenting on it (he always enjoyed how snarky Calypso’s comments could be), Leo almost forgot about the upcoming meeting with the professor.

…

The next day, Leo found himself in the building where the office of his lab professor was located. At the breakfast table he had practiced the meeting with Calypso, and Jason had also joined him a bit later to wish him luck. To Leo’s relief, he did seem a lot happier than when he had seen him before the holiday break, but he still didn’t talk a whole lot about his current situation. Leo himself decided that it was better if he didn’t guide his friends too much so instead he did a quick recap on the recent developments in his own life – without mentioning his new relationship status. Luckily Jason didn’t ask, as he seemed to be more worried about Leo’s upcoming meeting.

As he was waiting for the professor to arrive, Leo kept glancing at his clock nervously. The man was already a few minutes late. While Leo knew that wasn’t anything unusual in the university world, as the professors tended to be busy, he still kept wishing he could get the meeting over with as soon as possible. His leg started bouncing again on its own and his fingers were tapping against the wooden handle of the chair. Suddenly he didn’t feel quite as sure about what he was going to tell the professor as he had felt earlier.

Finally, he was pulled from his thoughts by a loud ‘ahem’.

“Mr. Valdez? Sorry I’m late, my meeting with a couple of coworkers got a bit long,” the professor said.

“That’s… that’s fine,” Leo stuttered. Some months ago he would probably have said something snarky as a response but right now he knew better than to take any risks.

“Go in, go in, so we can have a talk,” the professor encouraged. Unwillingly, Leo followed him into his office and had to be told to sit down before he even realized that there was a comfortable looking arm chair right next to him.

“So…” the professor started once he was seated behind his desk. “You probably know why I invited you here.”

“I… I do have an idea…” Leo said hesitantly, looking everywhere in the room except the professor. The man had a lot of engineering related books in his bookshelf, a big stack of papers - probably students’ assignments - and a fancy looking calculator on his desk. Behind him on the wall there was a single photograph of his family. Pretty much exactly how Leo had imagined the said professor’s room looking.

“I will be direct with you. Your achievements in the lab classes - or lack thereof - is a cause of confusion for us. In almost all of the theory related classes, you are on the top of the class – despite the occasional reports that your behavior towards the lecturers could use some improvement.” The man raised his eyebrow, but Leo thought he could see a glint of amusement in his eyes. That didn’t last long, though. “However, until now we have been willing to overlook that because of your talents. Maths, physics, chemistry… those things you clearly don’t have any issues with. But already for the second year you have been avoiding the lab classes for which you have been signed up and last fall you even left the chemistry lab test before you managed to get it completed. I’m sure you are aware that if you want to move onto the more advanced classes, you need to complete the mandatory ones before you are allowed to do that.”

“Yes, sir, I’m aware of that,” Leo replied stiffly, wondering briefly when was the last time he had called anyone sir, other than ironically.

“In that case…” His voice turned less formal, more fatherly as he continued, which surprised Leo. The professors he was used to dealing with were usually not all too nice to him, although he was willing to admit that some of it was probably deserved. “Can I ask you, is there a specific reason why you haven’t attended the lab classes?”

Leo wondered if he should come up with a quick lie. It wouldn’t be the first time in his life that he would have to do that in order to protect himself. However, the professor really seemed sincere and concerned about him and in a way his expression reminded him of Jo’s when she was expecting him to open up. Perhaps that’s why he ended up deciding to answer honestly:

“Yes. There is.”

“And? What is the reason?” The professor raised his eyebrow.

Leo inhaled deeply before forming his response. “I’m afraid of fire. Yeah, laugh ahead, but it’s true. I can’t deal with anything that requires heating because of some nasty as hell childhood trauma.”

To his surprise, the professor didn’t get angry at him for talking to him in such a manner. Instead, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“And you’re still planning to make mechanical engineering your career? Despite your fear?”

Leo nodded slowly. “Yeah. Building and fixing inanimate objects is the only thing I’ve ever known how to do. I was basically born with a hammer and a wrench in my hands and I was capable of building toys for myself when I was like four. After an accident…” He refrained from mentioning his mother because he couldn’t guarantee he would be able to stay calm if he brought that up. “… I haven’t been able to light up a match or anything like that. But almost five years ago, two awesome women adopted me and one of them is a mechanic. She reminded me what I really love about tinkering and it was then that I decided that I wanna keep trying. It’s a process but I am working on it.”

The professor smiled a little. “You know… a lot of our students were unable to take the chemistry lab course in the fall, so we decided to organize another course now in the spring. As it happens, there’s still some room for new people in it. So, if you’re interested, you’re welcome. But remember, you would need to attend all the mandatory classes and complete the tasks that you are assigned, no exceptions. That means we will not be going easy on you just because of your fear.”

Leo’s eyes widened with surprise. He hadn’t expected to get a chance like that.

“Woah, thanks sir! I won’t let you down!”

“That’s good to hear,” the professor nodded approvingly. “Can I ask you a question, though? Why do you want to become a mechanical engineer? I mean, what exactly is it that fascinates you about it, other than the influences you have gotten at your home?”

Leo imagined that the professor could probably see the bolts and nuts moving in his brain as he formed his answer. “I… I wanna learn to develop products that will help us make the world a safer, more sustainable place for us. We engineers, if anyone, can develop technology that will help us achieve that goal. But that’s not all. I also wanna learn more so I can help to share the information forward. I wanna show kids who come from similar backgrounds as I that they should keep on dreaming. There was a time when my mom ate porridge - only porridge - for her meals so she could pay the rent when her business was slow, but she still kept doing it. Because that’s how much she cared about her job. And I want to continue in her footsteps.”

The professor shifted on his seat. “That is an admirable goal, Mr. Valdez. I hope you will succeed. Remember, you do have the skill – you just need to know how to use it.”

“Yeah… Thanks professor.”

“No problem. Don’t forget the class enrollments end tonight so you need to be fast if you want to participate. That’s all for now. Good luck in your future endeavors.”

“Thanks. I’ll go enroll myself then. Bye for now.”

“See you, Mr. Valdez.”

Leo breathed a long sigh of relief the moment he stepped out of the professor’s office. The meeting had gone way better than he had dared to expect. He hadn’t thought he would get another chance so fast, but was grateful for the opportunity. Now, he would only need to kick his fears into the deepest pits of Tartarus, as Calypso would say.

[officialwittek]

pt. 2

*gif is not mine* 

word count: 1,987 

“SAGE” a voice yells, my eyes shoot open and I fall out of the bed, David laughs loudly holding his vlog camera

“Fuck you” I groan, standing up I notice I was changed and all my makeup was taken off

“Wow I was so productive even while drunk, I even took my makeup off bitches” I say, collecting my things off the floor and plugging my phone into the charger

“Nah, it was Jeff. You passed out after taking shots with Zane and Ilya. So he carried you into Natalie’s room and took care of you before he left” David explained, tucking his camera under his arm

“Oh nice, where’s Natalie?” I ask, putting on some shorts and walking to the kitchen with David

“She went to get coffee for everyone” He says, I laugh quietly seeing all of our friends passed out on the floor or the couch

“I guess I’ll make breakfast. Then I’ll help clean after we eat” I say, David nods and follows me to the kitchen

I grab some eggs, bacon, and pancake mix and start making breakfast for everyone. I notice Jeff and Todd aren’t here and assume they went to work out so I make extra food just in case they come by after. I shoot Jeff a text and ask him but I just get left on read. Weird. I pout a little and David suddenly takes my phone.

“Why did Jeff leave you on read?” He asks, I shrug and David takes out his own phone and texts him and of course gets an immediate response

“Interesting, whatever. I ain’t tripping ‘bout no hoe” I say, spooning the scrambled eggs into a big bowl

After I finished making breakfast, Natalie walks in with the coffee, Todd helping her carry everything. Our friends wake up one by one and join us in the kitchen

“Sage, baby marry me” Zane says, I laugh and take everyones empty plates and put them in the dishwasher

“Baby.. you couldn’t pay me enough money” I reply, our group laughing even harder

I wash the dishes while Matt helps me put them away. He also offers to help me clean the rest of the house. I take the soiled couch blankets and throw them in the wash while Matt takes the trash out. I grab the empty beer cans, solo cups, and hard liquor bottles and take them to the recycling and trash. After about an hour we had David’s house looking as nice as possible. I say bye to David and Natalie before Matt and I head our separate ways for the afternoon.

I finally get home and take a shower. Cleaning David’s house had me in the mood to be productive and Carly was probably with Erin I open our curtains and play some music over the speakers. Quietly singing to myself I take my laundry and start separating the loads before throwing the first one in. I walk to the kitchen and start cleaning out our fridge. Expired foods, old take out, nasty old fruits and veggies. After that I compile a grocery list and send a quick text to Carly to see if she needs anything, she sends me a handful of items and tells me to let her know how much she should PayPal me. I wash the dishes and put everything in their respected cabinets. After a few hours of cleaning and washing laundry, I get dressed to run errands.

I choose some brown patchwork jeans, a white tank top, a chocolate brown oversized zip up jacket with my white Air Force ones. I throw my hair in a ponytail and text Jeff.

Sage: Hi bub, ik you left me on read, but do you want to run errands with me?

Jeff: nah i’m good.

I sigh in annoyance and shove my phone in my purse. I grab my keys and walk down to the parking lot. I get a text from Corinna and Natalie asking if they can tag along with me since they’re bored and I agree, the three of us meeting at David’s house. After they pile into my Honda Civic and we go to the grocery store.

“So.. what’s got you all annoyed?” Corinna asks, I realize my eyebrows have been furrowed the whole time

“Jeff keeps leaving me on read or he’s being dry. Even at breakfast he didn’t even acknowledge me. I mean what the fuck. I would never ever do that to him. The fuck is his problem” I whine, grabbing a carton of oat milk

“Well you did kiss him last night and you haven’t said anything” Nat points out, my eyes widen and my jaws go slack, the two girls giggle at my expression  

“I k-kissed him? I mean shit go me, but now I feel like an asshole” I ask, turning to them and I sigh

“I’m never drinking again” I reply, making them laugh. After a bit more shopping we all go to pay for our stuff.

We stop by my apartment and they help me put the groceries away. We all go back to Dave’s house and hang out for a bit. I start editing some pictures I took for my instagram. While editing Todd, Jeff, Zane, Carly, and Erin walk in. They all come up to me and give me a hug, well except a certain someone. I’ll admit I feel like an asshole about not saying anything but I didn’t know it pissed him off that much. I text and ask if we can talk in the studio and he leaves me on read right in front of my eyes.

I roll my eyes and just sit at the kitchen island alone. Mindlessly scrolling through my phone as I hear some people approaching me. I turn and see Mariah, Carly, and Erin. They immediately knew something was up, my eyebrows were furrowed so we walk outside to my car.

“It’s fucking Jeff. So Nat and Corinna told me what happened last night and I obviously felt bad. So I texted Jeff about five minutes and asked him if we could talk in the podcast studio for a bit and he left me on read. He probably hates me now. He’s been ignoring me all day” I cry, Mariah rubs my shoulder to help console me

“I’m not going out with you guys tonight. I think I’m just going to stay home” I say, the three of them nod

“Well then all the girls are coming over tonight. I hate seeing princess peach being sad” Mariah says, princess peach is her nickname for me since I love anything to do with peaches and everyone treats me like a princess since I’m the youngest member

“Finee, bring wine and I’ll make pasta” I say, finally letting a small smile appear as we head back to the house

“Where the fuck did you guys go?” Heath asks, wrapping his arms around Mariah as I pretend to throw up

“We went to make out real quick” I retort, walking over to collect my things

“Nat, Corinna let’s go babes” I call, they excitedly grab their things and we hop in Nat’s Mercedes

“Oh c’mon guys” Todd says, but Carly promptly stops the rest from coming

“No we’re having a girl’s night. Sage isn’t feeling well, no boys allowed. Especially Jeff” she says, mumbling the last part so only the girls could hear and we let out giggles

“Fuck men” I yell, closing Nat’s door as we head to my place with Carly

Nat drops us off while her, Mariah, and Corinna get some alcohol. I grab the ingredients from the pantry and fridge. I decide to make a simple pasta with garlic, cherry tomatoes and basil. While I was cooking the other girls come back and we all gather in the kitchen. Talking about everything and anything, Nat starts snapping pictures on a disposable camera. After a few minutes the food was ready and we all gathered in our living room to watch some movies. After some bickering we all decide on Always Be My Maybe.

“T-that was so good” I cry, heavy tears streaming down my face, I look and see them all with tears in their eyes

“I hate being single” I whine, grabbing a pillow and crying into it and the others start laughing at me

“Sure sure” Corinna says, taking all of our plates to the sink. After countless bottles of wine we started dipping into the vodka. Natalie decides to stay sober for tonight  since she’ll probably have to take everyone else home

“Wait hold on David’s calling” Natalie says, I turn the music down and sit there nursing my vodka bottle and another bottle of sparkling pink lemonade

“Yea I’m not sure Sage is in any shape to go anywhere” She comments with a laugh, watching Corinna take the bottle and pour more vodka in my mouth

“Uhm I don’t know, let me talk to her” Nat says, her smile falling as she covers the mic with her hand

“Is it cool if the boys come here? They’re tired of staying at David’s and he needs drunk Sage content” She asks, I look at the rest of the girls and sigh

“I guess” I reply, Natalie purses her lips before replying

“No, we said it was girl’s night. You can get drunk Sage content any day of the week” She says, soon there’s some jiggling by our door as Natalie and Carly quickly run to the door and lock the door with the latch above the handle

“David get the fuck out of here” Natalie yells, stopping them from kicking our door down

“It’s ok I guess, just let them in” I reply, getting off the floor and unlocking it, quickly  walking to my balcony and Erin locks the door behind me, knowing I should have some alone time

I play some music on my phone and just sip the vodka in my hand. I take a hit from my puff bar, just enjoying the cool breeze on my skin. I let some tears fall down, thoughts invade my head. Maybe Jeff is just over how clingy I am? Is he tired of being friends with me? I sigh and sink deeper into my chair. I jump when I hear a knock, I quickly wipe the tears off my face and turn. I’m greeted by that dumb face and nod.

“Hey” I said, taking a hit of my puff, watching the vapor disappear as Jeff take a seat next to me

“Hi..” he replies softly, I can feel him burning holes in the side of my head

“Carly said I should probably come talk to you” he continued, I roll my eyes and collect my things

“Thing is, I don’t really want to talk to you anymore ok? This is me, leaving your dumbass on read in real life” I slur, putting my phone in my pants as I reach the door he grabs my wrist

“Please, I know you’re mad and I don’t really know why” Jeff replies, I scoff and set my things back down

“You ignore me all day, LEAVE ME ON READ WHILE I’M TEN FUCKING FEET BEHIND YOU, over a fucking drunk kiss for the vlog. Why would I be mad? You asshole” I yell, finally getting someone to open the door and I storm back in, sitting in the kitchen with the girls

“I DOn’T ReaLlY kNoW WhY You’Re MAd. The fucking NERVE of him” I rant, Nat pats my back as the girls and I talk on the kitchen floor

After another hour everyone leaves and I get ready for bed. Sure, I could’ve actually talked to him and I really was until he asked why I’m mad. I mean what the fuck? Whatever, I set my alarm and slip off into a peaceful sleep.

[fullsuuns]

a fateful day in new york | l.jn

PAIRING: jeno x reader

GENRE: fluff

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

SYNOPSIS: jeno is the cute botanist that saves you from the rain.

SONG REC♫: pink lemonade - the wombats

he’s beautiful.

no — he’s radiant.

if not for the fact that he was a worker at the floral shop off the corner of main street — les fleurs du soleil — then definitely so when he catches you outside in the rainstorm in front of said shop and offers you shelter.

the rain is heavy; it’s a stream of endless pitter patters against the cracked pavement. you’re drenched; your hair is damp and your tan coat drips droplets of water. it’s cold in new york; the january air that had bitten at your skin had your cheeks growing red over time.

without an umbrella and waiting for the city bus in one of the busiest and most traffic-heavy corners in all of manhattan while it’s raining sure does have its perks despite the heavy burdens.

it comes in the form of a young man: soft black hair and kind, worried eyes when he asks you if you would like to come inside the flower shop. teeth-chattering, you nod, walking towards him with your arms around your shivering frame. he doesn’t seem to mind when water trails behind you, dripping onto the marble tiles as you step inside.

instead, he just opens the door wider for you.

the place sensitizes your smell almost instantly; the heaps of flowers serve to give a natural floral aroma around the place. pretty bouquets are on display everywhere, and there are potted plants hanging from the ceiling as decoration. there’s also music playing softly through the speakers; an indie song you’re unfamiliar with, but it’s pretty. you turn to the boy behind you. he’s taller, much taller than you expected him to be.

he gives you a smile. his eyes fold to create delicate crescents, and you swear you have to stop your own breath from hitching. he’s wearing an apron over a black dress shirt; a charming choice for his broad shoulders. you look down to see a pair of doc marten boots on his feet when you hear heavier-than-normal strides as he walks towards you.

“would you like a warm drink?” he asks, offering his hands out to take your coat. it takes you a minute to realize his gesture. you shrug it off for him, and he sets it on the rack near the front entrance to dry off. you notice that he, too, smells of soft floral scent.

“what do you have?” now coatless, you sit down on the stool he provides for you next to the check-out counter. the song selection changes and your ears perk when you hear the familiar tune of pink lemonade. you hum, “i love this song.”

“i can make you some tea, or coffee, or can just get you some water if you’d like,” he suggests, pulling out a small plastic box with what you think are floral tea samples. “and really? i didn’t think many people knew of the wombats - they’re one of my favorite bands, actually.”

“mine too.” you say shyly, smiling at him despite your slightly shivering form. “and i’ll take jasmine,” you spare a moment to look for the name tag on his apron. “jeno. wow, unique name. don’t think i’ve ever met a jeno before.”

he laughs at your words — a warm, deep laugh from within his chest that makes your heart stammer momentarily. picking up a teabag, he sets the box of samples aside. “it’s actually not that common in korea, either. i’ve never met someone with the same name as me when i’ve visited.”

you hum an understanding. he pulls out a mug and a tea kettle from under the counter — previously heated up water, you assume. steam climbs out of the surface as he pours water into the mug, the heat almost grounding as it contrasts against the cold wetness of outside. the stream of water is a calming sound under the soft indie music, and there’s a tranquil smile on jeno’s lips as he speaks, “hope you don’t think this is weird, i made tea myself before you came in.”

shaking your head, you say, “no, no. i get it.”

there’s a calming presence that comes from him. his hands are structured, strong despite his soft features. you can see this when he opens a packet and places the teabag into the mug and pushes it towards you. “it’s still hot, so be careful.”

you thank him, bringing the mug up to blow into it. the smell of jasmine hits your nose; the scent of it is ever so familiar. jeno brings his own mug to his lips, tilting his head back and exposing his bobbing adam’s apple as he takes the last gulp of what’s left in his cup.

a metaphorical lightbulb goes off in your head.

“how do you like new york?” you ask, hoping your question can keep your conversation with the beautiful stranger — well, jeno now — going.

he licks his lips, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way your eyes drift down to catch his tongue prodding at his bottom lip before he answers you.

“well, it’s big - for one thing. the people here are nice, though they always seem to be in a rush,” you nod at his words, knowing exactly what he means. “i like being able to live out my dream here - and i like the part time job i have as well.”

“dream?” you inquire. the song that’s playing ends, switching to one you’ve never heard all while you take a sip from your mug. the jasmine tea hits the back of your throat - it’s warm, and comforting, and heats you up almost instantly. “you seem to have good taste in music, by the way.”

“oh, it’s nothing much, just my spotify playlist,” he chuckles, the light airy laugh almost music to your ears. “and yeah, dream. uh - i major in film and minor in photography at nyu.”

your eyes widen. “wow, nyu? i’m a student there too.”

he laughs again; you’re sure the vibrant sound never gets old. his voice muses when he asks, “really?”

nodding and unsure of what to say next, you both settle for a comfortable silence for a few minutes as you bask in the warmth of your jasmine tea. when you do meet jeno’s eyes, they’re expressive — a kind doe look that contrasts his aura greatly for sure; they also serve to make you shyly look away each time.

by now, you’ve realized that the rain against the reflective glass has stopped. turning your head to peer out the window, you’re surprised to see sunlight hitting the pavement, a telltale of how quickly new york’s weather could change.

still looking out the window, you ask, “hey, jeno, what time is it?”

you turn back in time to see jeno pulling out his phone from the pocket of his apron.

“3:42. have somewhere to be?”

at this, you know you have approximately three or so minutes to make it out to the bus stop at the corner of main street — if you don’t want to miss your ride home, that is.

you nod, albeit a little disheartened since you know you have to part ways with the cute botanist. still, ever charming jeno smiles at you and nods an understanding.

your eyes dart everywhere for something to write with (you want to laugh at the sheer irony that you find one of those pens with a flower attached to the top of it next to the cash register). digging into your pocket, you pull out one of the crinkled stray receipts you had. your handwriting is rushed with the little time you’re given: a mess of scribbles as you write down your name and phone number.

“it’s been a while since i’ve written down my phone number on a piece of paper like this for someone,” you say, a hearty giggle escaping you, “but call me sometime and we can, i don’t know, grab coffee? when it’s not raining, of course.”

you slide the paper over to him, stepping off the stool to rush over to the coat rack. your coat is drier now, both coldness and warmth hitting your figure at once when you put it on and pull your hair out. 

“sure,” jeno agrees, looking down at the receipt once. he smiles, “. . .y/n - cute name.”

hearing him say it almost makes nervous butterflies flutter in your stomach, but you push those down in favor of giving him one last smile as you walk towards the exit.

you can hear the jingle of the door intermix with the music still playing inside as you push it open. you wave your hand towards the dazzling raven, voice calling out behind you just before you can step outside and run towards the bus stop, “great! it’s a date!”

[abbacchios-sunflower]

Welcome Aboard Part 1

Wow, finally made my tweaks and got to posting this akshlkjaslk, I’ve had a busy month, anyways, part 1 of my collab with @dongiovannaswife is finally here! A bit of an origin story if you will ^-^ Thanks Lena for working on it with me! <3

*****

“Hey let me go! What the fuck?!”

 “Shit, great, a civilian’s involved now, just our luck,” Mista rounded the corner and brandished his gun when he saw their target restraining a smaller girl, the sex pistols appearing around him, soon to be followed by Narancia and Abbacchio. “Alright cazzo, let the girl go and get this over with. It’s over for you.”

 The others behind Mista took notice the girl was staring at something, namely at Aerosmith, then in the direction of the pistols’ too.

 “No, you and your little buddies, are going to let me go and never come poking around again, the don’s going to forget about lil ol me and leave my business alone or she’ll get it.” Emiliano threatened, pulling the girl closer to him as his stand’s razor sharp blades for nails drew closer to her face. “Come on, I know that bleeding heart would get upset to hear a poor little girl got hurt because of his men!”

 “So she is a stand user like I thought,” Abbacchio muttered, seeing as how she was staring at the enemy’s stand as it grew closer to her face, the target not even noticing.

 “That good or bad?” Narancia could barely get out before a pinkish glow lit the alleyway up.

 “I said, let me go!” the girl snapped; a combusting in ball of fire appeared that knocked the Mafioso off of her, at least half his face scorched from the look of it. Emiliano used the shock to get away. She looked back to the other three and scowled, “what!? You wanna go too!? He’s getting away!”

 “Holy shit,” Narancia breathed, a smile cracking on his face, “an American stand user, cool.”

 Deeming the three not a threat to her, her stand pulled in closer to her again. “You’re… not from here, are you?” she swallowed, picking up on their accents and the fact that they were definitely not native English speakers.

 “You know, thanks to you that guy got away!” Abbacchio shoved past Mista and Narancia so he could lean down to get in the girls face with his usual scowl. “So thanks for nothing.”

 “Like you were any help to me just now!” She spat back, her stand hissing behind her. “You just stood there and watched that asshole try and rip my face off!”

 Abbacchio rolled his eyes and turned on a heel, gesturing to the other two, “let’s go, we’ll let Fugo and Bucciarati know what happened just now, we’ll reconvene at the hotel before going after him again.” He ordered the younger pair.

 “Ugh fine,” Mista looked back to the girl and her stand, “I- hey are you sure we couldn’t use a little extra muscle on this one? You also weren’t exactly very nice to her just now, she’s kinda owed an explanation.” He elbowed Abbacchio who was ignoring them.

 “You’re welcome for weakening him for you I guess!” She shouted after them, but they disappeared around the corner. Frustrated, she ran after them. “Hey! Are you idiots listening to me!?”

 “Buzz off, we don’t need some little girl’s help— aah!” Abbacchio waved his hand when her stand appeared in front of the trio, all of them flinching, especially after what they just saw it do before.

 “First off, I’m not a kid, second… I’ve never met anyone around here that can see her,” she walked around to speak to them more. “Who are you assholes and why are you here? Oh, and was that jerk with you?” She demanded.

 Narancia opened his mouth to freely answer all the questions when Abbacchio pulled him back, “this doesn’t concern you, so what if we also have stands? We don’t owe you anything. Come on; let’s go before he gets too far.”

 “We’re a part of the Italian mafia!” Narancia quickly blurted out before Abbacchio grabbed the younger yet again and covered his mouth.

 “Nara!”

 The girl laughed, “You expect me to believe that?” She frowned, looking them over again, “then again, after what just happened, I could believe it I guess,” she frowned. “So was that guy some traitor then? Did he escape and make it all the way over here and you’re trying to punish him?”

 Mista lowered his guard more, contemplating also telling her a little more, “Guess you can say that, he’s just causing a lot of trouble, okay? He needs to be taken care of.” He holstered his gun.

 “I want in,” she spoke again after a moment of silence.

 “Uh, no,” Abbacchio decided, but she got in front of them again, defiant. “Go home kid.”

 “He threatened to kill me; I still have to let Crazy finish the job-”

 “Wait, who?” Narancia asked.

 “My stand,” she pointed to the pink and blue flaming humanoid figure. “It’s short for Crazy=Genius.” She explained. “She sets things on fire and makes explosions... well, when I get angry anyways.”

 “Great, another volatile stand, sounds like Purple Haze all over again,” Abbacchio muttered.

 Mista looked back at the other two, “come on, what’s the harm in letting her help? Besides, as one of the don’s right hand men, I have seniority over you, I am a capo now after all,” He looked back with a smirk before, extending his hand to the girl, “Mista, that’s Narancia, the big cazzo over there is Abbacchio.”

 “Marissa- well, call me Mar,” she took it, smirking back. “So you are with the mafia, damn,” she chuckled a bit, “never thought I’d meet the real deal.” She shoved her hands back in her pockets and started heading off in a different direction, “the guy went this way so this will be our best bet.”

 “Thanks but we don’t need your help tracking someone down, that’s my job,” Abbacchio continued the other way. “Right now we need to regroup and let the others know what happened so we can move in together.”

 Mista shook his head and gestured for the others to follow.

 *****

“You know, I’m surprised you of all people let her follow you guys around.” Bruno sounded amused as they followed Moody Blue’s playback of their target from the alley he got scorched in. “No doubt Giorno will have concerns when we report in.”

 “Mista flashed his seniority card and I didn’t have a choice but to accept it- You have that look.” Abbacchio grumbled.

 “What look?”

 The taller laughed, “The look you always get when you want to adopt another kid.” He pointed out, looking over his shoulder at the girl talking with the other members of his team as he got in front of his stand more, always paranoid about showing newcomers Moody Blues. “But we know even less about her than when Giovanna first joined.”

 “Maybe that’s why I like her, she reminds me a little of him; I just hope you won’t feed her piss too,” Bruno smirked knowingly, turning back to Moody who had stalled, finding they were in front of a warehouse that was locked. Of course that was no trouble for them as Sticky Fingers appeared, unzipping the door and stepping through first.

 “Looks like it’s all here,” Fugo shook his head, looking at the crates that filled the small building. “This was everything that wasn’t accounted for back in the Sicilia warehouses owned by Volpe. This also means he’ll be back soon, I’m guessing tonight.”

 “Awesome! A stakeout!” Narancia cheered.

 Marissa walked over to one of the opened crates and frowned. “I thought it was a mafia thing to distribute drugs, you guys are kind of weird— I mean, not that I condone drugs myself, but you know… Unless I’m making rude assumptions…?”

 Bruno closed the lid on the crate, “our organization doesn’t run on such things, not anymore.”

 “How do you make all your money then?” she raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the answer.

 “Embezzlement,” Mista bluntly stated. “Protection fees, assassination, you name it!”

 “Just no drugs?”

 Fugo rolled his eyes and further poked around the place, “we may be the mafia, but have some morals. Our leaders just happen to despise drugs.”

 “How honorable,” she dryly replied, well, who was she to judge? She looked around more, curious if there was anything else to find, “You know, my stand can torch this entire place right here and now if you want. I’ve tested it before, it’s pretty powerful and nothing but ash would be left behind.”

 Abbacchio scoffed, heading back to the front door of the building where the zipper portal still was active. “And you’re a pyromaniac arsonist from what I’ve gathered; I don’t think you have room to talk about morality. Now let’s get set up so we can grab this guy when he comes back. ”

  One could hardly call it a fair fight, after Emiliano had returned to the warehouse to start moving his shipment out, they made quick work of him, using Crazy=Genius to torch the place and ensure that their target was dead and the drugs burned up along with him.

  “Consider it mission complete then, we leave for Napoli day after tomorrow, we’re ahead of schedule,” Bruno pocketed his phone as he informed the others who were drinking and unwinding from the fight before; though it wasn’t that much of a fight, six on one? Even with a stand as strong as his Nine Inch Nails, it was built for close combat while his opponents had ranged attacks.

 “Well, I better get back home before it gets too late and my parents worry,” Marissa got up and grabbed her jacket. “I had fun, guess I can officially say life will be infinitely boring from tonight on,” she joked when she was stopped.

 “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy having your stand to help out,” Bruno admitted. “You don’t seem to have much practice with her though.”

 “What? You wanna help me train her?” The girl was expecting some kind of joke, but he looked serious. “I can’t just up and leave and move to a whole new country on a whim… to join the fucking mafia too? Sorry, but I think this was more than enough for me for a lifetime.”

 “Just give it some thought tonight,” Bruno patted her shoulder, “I once heard that stand users attract other stand users, some kind of fate; I’m just saying, maybe there was a reason we crossed paths, because I know a liar when I see one, and you don’t really want to go on with a normal life. Right?”

 She got quiet after that one, but shrugged his hand off her shoulder, “I need to get back home.”

 “You know where to find us if you change your mind before Thursday.”

 *****

“Wait!”

 The five turned their heads when they heard a familiar voice.

 “Hold up… phew, shit, I’m not used to running,” Marissa placed her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “I… I still have some stuff I’d need to come back for if I did go, but,” she swallowed, avoiding their eyes, “I’d like to go back with you guys. J-Just to scope the place out for a week or two, see if I’ll like it or not,” she added on.

 “Wooo! New teammate! Trish is gonna be so excited for another girl to hang out with!” Narancia grinned.

 “I’m sure she gets sick of all of you constantly bothering her, but yes, I supposed you’re right about that. Plus it’s always beneficial to have a team full of varying abilities and powers; we could certainly use another powerhouse. I think Giorno and the Speedwagon Foundation would be interested in studying her and her stand,” Fugo turned away, ready to start off.

 “Don’t get ahead of yourselves now, she’s just visiting for a couple of weeks, no promises, she’s free to decline any offers we make her,” Bruno had reminded the other three.

 The young woman awkwardly smiled as the others seemed to welcome her, of course Abbacchio kept silent, aloof as when she met him a few days ago. It didn’t matter, she found it fun to tease him; anything could get under that guy’s skin.

 Whatever the group’s reaction to a potential new teammate, she followed them as they left their hotel.

 *****

“Yeah,” Bruno nods as he speaks into the phone, eyes trailing to Fugo briefly as he makes sure the call is safe.

 “We’re just heading to the plane —she’s coming with us in hopes of your approval, since Mista already said yes.”

 There is silence for a moment while Giorno speaks back, whatever he was saying making Bruno tense. The atmosphere changes momentarily as Sticky Fingers’ user looks out the window, watching as the businesses go by.

 “Yeah,” he mutters after a moment, low and calm despite his rigid posture. “I’ll let them know.” Silence settles in as he lowers his eyes into the floor of the car, seeming to study his own shoes as he listens to the boss on the other side of the line. “Of course, Gi —Don.”

 The call ends even before he can end it himself. With the team’s attention upon him, Bruno takes a deep sigh, closing his eyes and letting them open slowly as his sight falls into Mista, who’s right before him. “He’s not pleased —at all.”

 Abbacchio scoffs, rolling his eyes. He’s sitting by Mista’s side. “That brat is never happy with other’s decisions —he thinks he’s the only one allowed to make moves. Why name Mista his right hand if he won’t let him take part in the decisions?”

 Bruno raises an eyebrow, “Are you on her side now? I thought you thought the same.”

 “Do not misinterpret me.” He snarls back, “I don’t approve of this idiot’s decision. I’m just saying I don’t understand Giovanna.”

 Narancia laughs, short and lighthearted: mocking still. “Yeah, yeah, whatever —you’re not fooling anyone.”

 Abbacchio growls, shooting a glare at the boy, “Do you want Giovanna to know you got a broken nose?”

 “Oh?” Narancia smirks, leaning into Leone’s personal space, “So you care about what he has to say?”

 Before he can reply or even try to make his word true, Bruno speaks over them. Rough and commanding. “Enough.” He directs his attention back to Mista, who has been waiting to speak. With a curt nod from Bruno, Mista finally talks.

 “I’ll talk with him —I’m sure his discontent falls upon her being a civilian and getting involved, huh?”

 “A part of it, yes.” Bruno nods, adding last. “That, and the sudden reveal of information to her played into it.” He directs his attention to Narancia, who’s trying to sink into his seat. “He wants to talk with you, too.”

 Abbacchio chuckles —dark and mocking.

 Mista sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, maybe if I ask the Donna for a bit of help, he’ll soften?”

 Bruno shakes his head. “That won’t work.”

 “How do you know?”

 Bruno looks through the window for a moment, silence settling in before he turns back to the group, giving them all a brief look. “The call was on speaker. She heard it all and although she didn’t say anything I could tell they are on the same page.”

 Abbacchio rolls his eyes, mumbling something intelligible under his breath.

 “Are you done?” Marissa cuts through the conversation suddenly. “I’m still here and listening to you all.”

 “Oh, sorry, Queen of England” Abbacchio snarls, frowning as he looks through the window.

 The rest is silence before Mista murmurs. “At least we made the job.” 

[leviathans-watching]

Sticks & Stones Chapter 1

You sighed, trying to ignore the thoughts bumping around in your head and instead focus on the conversation at hand.

"So anyway, I then saw this jacket and I just had to get it!" Mammon continued, trying to explain to Lucifer why Goldie had been maxed out already. "It's actually the jacket MC is wearing right now!"

When your name was said, you looked up, finding everyone's eyes on you. "What?" You asked, and Asmo poked your cheek, an amused expression sliding across his features.

"Have you even been paying attention?"

"Sorry," You looked around the table. "I zoned out."

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" Asmo asked, and you felt your stomach turn slightly. "You've been off all week."

And you had. It had been hard to get yourself together lately.

"Nothing. Just have some homework still." Not hungry anymore, you pushed you food around on your plate until Beel finally took it off of your hands.

Thinly smiling at the brothers around you, you stood up. "I'm gonna go work on my stuff. Thanks for dinner. Anyone else done?" You offered, holding your hand out for dishes. After dropping a load in the kitchen, you made your way to your room  and shut the door, sitting on your bed.

It's not like you meant to be negative, but living with seven perfect brothers in a realm full of other perfect beings, it sometimes felt like you were less than they were, and not just because you were human.

No one could deny, they were all attractive, and you had always struggled with your self image. It had gotten better, but then getting thrown down here with a bunch of seemingly flawless people with no good coping mechanism was sending reeling.

You felt like you did during puberty.

You had lied, actually finishing all of your homework earlier and all you wanted to do was go to sleep, so you kicked off your shoes and got under your covers, hoping to take a quick nap.

* * *

"MC seemed off today, right?" Satan asked, looking at his brothers.

"For sure." Belphie agreed, and it was quiet for a moment.

"I was going to ask why they were wearing your jacket, Mammon, but now I'm more worried about this," Leviathan remarked, and Mammon smirked a little, but it was overshadowed by concern for his human.

"To be honest," Asmo dabbed at his mouth daintily with a napkin. "I've been noticing it for a little while now, not just today."

"As have I." Lucifer seemed more serious than usual. "It is our duty as MC's hosts to make sure that their time in the Devildom is satisfactory, and if they're feeling down, it would be a good idea to know why."

"Because we're their hosts," Mammon mocked. "Lucifer, we're all worried about them,  so ya can admit it too."

"But anyway," Satan ignored Mammon. "What do you guys mean?"

"Well," Asmo began. "I've been seeing a shift in their behavior. They don't really seem as lively, and they don't seem to be eating as much."

Beel looked at the napkin he held that had originally belonged to MC and nodded in agreement.

"Plus," He continued. "They won't take my compliments or let me get close to them anymore! It's weird!"

"Well not everyone is comfortable with that," Mammon defended, but Asmo shook his head.

"No, it's different. And something isn't right."

Lucifer cleared his throat. "Anyway, I believe it's Belphie and Beelzebub's turn to clean up, so I'm going to excuse myself."

They separated, but their thoughts were all on MC.

* * *

You were awoken by your door being thrown open. "Hey!" You protested, rolling over to see who had so rudely interrupted your nap.

Mammon stood in your doorway, thrown for a loop. "Were ya sleepin'?"

"I was," You said, throwing your covers off. "What's up?"

Mammon looked sheepish. "Sorry for wakin' ya."

You raised an eyebrow, walking over to the full length mirror Asmo had put in for you. "It's fine." Mammon came to stand by you as you tried to fix your hair, and you were struck by your differences.

He was in his human form but still looked way better than you. His glasses were perched perfectly on his nose like always, and his black shirt was just tight enough to outline a good body but not show it all off.

You were still wearing his jacket. He had let you borrow it when you had realized you had forgotten yours earlier in the day. He had told you he was only doing it so you wouldn't have to be cold or wear one of his brothers'. Whatever the reason, you were thankful.

Compared to him, you looked average, slightly below, if you were going to be honest.

Your fingers stilled from where they were combing out your hair and he noticed.

"Hey, MC, wanna get out of here?"

You looked at him in the mirror. "Yeah, that sounds great, actually."

You Lucifer wouldn't approve so you went out the back, managing to get away without alerting any of the others.

Smiling at Mammon,  you breathed in the spring air, stretching.

"Oh, tomorrow morning I have to leave early, so feel free to walk with Beel and Belphie, okay?" Mammon told you, so you made a mental reminder.

"Is everything alright?"

"Oh yeah, fine, I just got to talk to one of the Profs." Mammon reassured you.

It was still light, but you only had an hour or so before the Devildom sun went down. Mammon led you downtown, and the two of you just chilled, finding a park bench to watch the sunset on.

As the sun started to dip below the horizon, your DDD rang. Answering it without checking caller ID, you didn't expect to hear Lucifer through the line.

"MC, where are you and Mammon?" he all but growled, and Mammon looked up, hearing him even though you didn't have speaker on.

"Lucifer, relax. I needed this. We'll be back before it gets fully dark." You hung up before he could get a word in, feeling bold. Mammon whistled.

"He's gonna skin us alive when we get back."

You chuckled, a little nervous. "Yeah, but I told the truth. I did need this. Thanks, by the way." You leaned up against him, and Mammon seemed taken aback.

"Uh, I mean, somethin' was clearly botherin' ya, and I'm not the best with words, but I hoped this would help," He put his arm around you, and you looked up at him, blue eyes meeting yours.

"It did. My emotions are all over the place today, so sorry about that."

Mammon hesitated. "Do ya, maybe like, wanna talk about it?"

"I don't want to put you in an awkward spot or overshare," You were reluctant, but Mammon really seemed like he wanted to listen.

"You can tell me anything. After all, I am your fist man!" He puffed, and you laughed.

"Alright, you do have a point there." You tried to get your thoughts in order. "I don't know, it's just hard living with perfect people all the time. I've always struggled with my self-esteem, and it's, oh God, this sounds so dumb, but it's so obvious how much lower than you guys I am."

Mammon rubbed your arm encouragingly.

You started to get a little worked up, the words coming out more freely. "And it's like wow, I'm just readily telling you this, I must be some slut for attention, but it's like I just don't know how to deal with my emotions and-"

Mammon cut you off. "MC, it's okay. I don't think ya want attention for tellin' me this or are fishin' for compliments or whatever, so get that thought out of your head. You're my friend and I'm glad you're telllin' me this."

You nodded, and he tilted your face up towards his.

"We all have our days when we feel low. We just got to push through 'em! And MC, I'm the avatar of Greed! I know how it feels to want to things, to want more, to want to be more! It's okay to want that but we can't let those thoughts control us."

You nodded again.

"Not for nothin' but ya are my favorite human," Mammon whispered like he was telling you a secret and you couldn't help but smile.

"I'm glad," You pulled him up. "Now let’s get back before Lucifer gets any more pissed off."

While you were walking back, you impulsively grabbed Mammon's hand. He blushed, but let it happen.

* * *

Mammon < The Demon Brothers (New) (7): I found out what was wrong with MC

Leviathan < The Demon Brothers (New) (7): What? Already?

Mammon < The Demon Brothers (New) (7): Talk later I'm with them right now

* * *

Figuring Lucifer would be waiting for you, you just went in the front, and sure enough, there he was, sitting in a chair by the door.

He didn't look mad, which was odd, considering you had hung up on him and disobeyed the rules, so you decided to wait for him to make the first move.

"Ah, you're back. I take it you are feeling better?" His tone was light but also careful, nothing like you were expecting.

You nodded, and he seemed almost pleased. Turning to Mammon, you expected him to be as weirded out by his brother's behavior as you were, but he seemed to be engaging in a nonverbal conversation instead.

"If that's all," You said cautiously "I'm going to take a shower."

Lucifer gave you the go-ahead and thoroughly confused you made your way to your room.

S&S Masterlist

Chapter 2

[mysingularitybts]

Call Center a Park Jimin Oneshot

Call Center

Pairing: Park Jimin x reader 

Genre: romance, AU, fluff, bit of angst 

Disclaimer: none 

As you walked down the hallway you were excitedly chatting with your closest friend, Hana. You were talking about a new TV show that came out the night before.

"What about when he kissed her?" Hana squealed loudly "I was so shocked I hadn't expected it to happen so soon."

"Yeah, but I think something bad is going to happen and it's going to put a stop to their relationship. I mean did you see how Maria reacted to the kiss?" I said to Hana.

"Oh, you are probably right y/n, I just hope it's not too soon," she pouted.

As you kept talking a body crashed into your shoulder very roughly.

"Ow," you winced as you rubbed your shoulder.

"Watch where you're going!" A voice exclaimed in irritation.

Looking up you saw Park Jimin. He was a classmate who hated you for no apparent reason.

"I was literally standing here, you bumped into me," you cried out exasperated.

"Whatever let's go guys," Jimin told his friends and just like that he left.

It was nothing new. It was a common occurrence for him to bother you in some way. Sometimes it's the mean comments and other times it's the pranks.

"Why does he hate you so much?" Hana asked from her place beside you.

"I have no idea. At the beginning of college we were friends, but then he started hating me out of nowhere," you explained thinking back to when college started, "oh well" you shrugged.

"Doesn't it bother you?" She asked once again.

"It used to, yet every time I tried talking to him, he would just ignore me, so I gave up," you told her.

"That's rude," Hana muttered a frown forming on her face.

"Yeah, well, I have to go to work. See you tomorrow?" you asked as you got closer to the exit.

"Yeah bye," Hana waved as you went your separate ways.

As you left the building you saw Jimin again. You couldn't deny he was very handsome especially when you saw him laughing along with his friends just like he is now. It made you remember how back when you were friends you started to develop a crush on him, and it was all because of that smile and laugh. You never made a move seeing as he never gave you a sign that he liked you, so you moved on. Eventually, you started dating your first boyfriend. It was a good relationship and it lasted around a year. You broke up since you both realized you didn't have a deep feeling for each other. So, it ended amicably, but by then Jimin was not your friend anymore.

Being so deep in your thoughts you hadn't realized you were almost at your job. Going into the office you sat on your cubicle and put on your headset ready to start receiving calls.

"Hello, this is Seoul's call center. How may I help you?" you asked in a polite tone. At this point, what you said and how you said it was automatic.

You stayed there for many hours on end receiving calls left and right trying to help as many people as possible. Towards the end of your shift, you received an interesting call.

"Hello, this is y/n from Seoul's call center, how may I help you today?"

"Hi, I'm looking for some plumbing service," the voice asked shyly.

It was a very sweet voice that seemed familiar, yet you couldn't quite place from where.

"Of course, is it for anything in specific?" you asked once again trying to find the best person for the job.

"It's my sink. No matter what I do it keeps leaking," he explained with frustration in his voice.

"Oh, that must be horrible!" you exclaimed, "I think I know who might help you."

"Great, I'm tired of having to replace buckets during the night," he chuckled into the phone.

"Would you like to call the contact yourself to arrange the meeting or do you want us to set it up?" you questioned with a smile. His voice was so nice.

"oh-uh- I'll set it myself thank you," he said nervously for some reason.

"It's no problem I'm just doing my job," you told him kindly.

After giving him the contact, you bid your farewells and hung up. There were always some voices that stuck with you and he was one of them. It sounded so nice and melodic.

The next day you went into work again and started receiving calls. During the middle of the shift, you received a call from the same guy as yesterday.

"Hi, I called yesterday with the sink problem?" he told me uneasily.

"Hello, yes, I remember. Was everything alright?" you asked worriedly hoping he didn't give back any negative feedback since it could give you problems with your manager.

"Yes, it was perfect. I just wanted to thank you and all that." He responded abashedly.

Letting out a relieved sigh you said, "It was no problem I was just doing my job."

"So-um- yeah..." he trailed off not knowing what to say next.

"Well if that is all- "you started saying although you got cut off.

"No, wait, I did want to thank you, but I also wanted to um talk to you?" he said unsure.

"Talk to me? About what?" you were curious about what he wanted to talk about because what else was there to it?

"I know you from college, but I've never had the guts to talk to you in person," he explained quietly.

"Oh, you had me worried there for a second," you giggled.

Nothing like this had ever happened to you before and it was interesting if you're being honest. This situation could explain why the voice is so familiar. Maybe you've heard him speak during a presentation.

"I'm just very shy and you're almost always with your friends," he started saying, "not that it's a problem," he then stuttered.

"How about this? What if I give you my number and you can call me, and we can talk at least till you're more comfortable to meet me?" you proposed a smile forming on your lips. Were you being stupid? Maybe, for all, you know this person was a stalker or a catfish, yet the voice kept drawing you in.

"Really? Wow that would be amazing," he said happily.

"Great my number is xxx-xxx-xxxx,"

"Thanks again and I hope it didn't come off as creepy," he said.

"Well only a little bit, but that's okay it's cute," you teased him a bit.

"Talk to you later?" he asked.

"Sure, just call me"

It was exciting, it was almost as if having a secret admirer. It's been a while since you've talked to a guy or went on a date. You're excited to get back in the game who knows if a boyfriend or future husband comes out of it. Giggling to yourself you kept working with more energy as you excitedly waited for the call.

Once you were home you took a shower and got ready for bed. Afterward, you sat on your bed watching some random show, yet your eyes couldn't stay on the screen. Every so often they would wander to your phone waiting for the anticipated call. Each time it lit up you scrambled to pick it up, but each time you ended up disappointed seeing it was either an app notification or a message from your other friends. It wasn't until you were almost asleep that the phone rang.

As soon as it started ringing you felt wide awake again and went to grab the phone. Seeing it was an unknown number you waited a few more seconds till you picked up.

"Hello?" you said as you answered the phone.

"Hi y/n," the voice greeted.

"Hi! How was your day?" you asked, trying to start a conversation.

From then on you spoke on the phone every day with him. It became a routine and it gave you something to look forward to. You got to know the mystery guy very well. He was a dance major and was from Busan. It reminded you about your past friend, but you didn't pay it no mind. You could spend hours talking to him, it was that easy. He made you smile, laugh, and blush. He made your days ten times better just by listening to him talk.

A month had passed, and it might sound unbelievable, but you felt as if you'd fallen in love with mystery guy. From the things you talked about he seemed like the perfect guy for you. The thing is you still didn't know what his name was or how he looked like. At college, you always tried to keep a lookout, yet there was no way of knowing. If only you knew someone from the dance major that could help you, but the only person you knew was Jimin and we all know how this story goes. Talking about Jimin you've noticed he hasn't bothered you much these past couple of weeks. If anything he'd send you a glare but nothing else. It was weird you were so used to his teasing that you kind of missed it.

Shaking those thoughts away you set a mission for yourself. Today once mystery guy called you, you were going to ask him to finally meet you. He couldn't be so shy as to say no. You've practically made it obvious you liked him.

A few hours later you finally received the call and with no hesitation, you answered immediately.

"Hiii," you said, smiling to yourself.

"Heeey y/n," he said giggling.

"So, I was wondering..." you started saying.

"Hm?" he hummed as he waited for your question.

"What if we meet up this week?" you blurted out quickly. Through the speaker, you could hear as he took an intake of breath.

"M-m-eet up?" he stuttered.

"Yeah, I mean we've been talking for a month now and you saw how nice I am," you explained trying to convince him.

"Well, okay, sure," he said in a low tone dubiously.

"What about tomorrow at the school's fountain at 5?" you proposed excitedly not noticing his doubtfulness.

"Yeah, alright I can do that," he agreed.

"Great see you tomorrow," you declared hanging up the phone.

Meanwhile in his apartment, mystery guy lowered the phone from his ear slowly. He let out a shuddered breath hoping that tomorrow would go well. He hoped you would accept him and would forget about the things he's done that he is not proud of. He couldn't run anymore. It was time he faced the feelings he had.

You couldn't believe you were finally going to meet him. Once the call ended you started jumping on the bed. Realizing you had little time you quickly started putting an outfit together for tomorrow. In reality, you didn't know what to expect for tomorrow, but wanted to look good for it. You could end up with a date, a boyfriend, or who knows maybe just a friend. Hopefully, it would be one of the first two.

You couldn't explain it because you haven't met him, yet thinking about him made you blush. For being a shy guy, he was a pretty flirty guy always surprising you in the most unexpected times. He listened to you, gave you advice, comforted you on the hard days. Mystery boy made your heart race just by thinking about him. You couldn't see a reason as to why you would reject him.

The next day you woke up with a smile on your face. You took your time getting ready seeing as your first class was at noon and after classes, you wouldn't have time to go to your apartment change and come back to the fountain. With one last look at the mirror making sure you looked good you walked out of your apartment ready for the day to come.

Throughout your classes, you couldn't sit still and your knee kept bouncing. Hana gave you a weird look and it wasn't long until she asked about your strange behavior.

"What's got you so fidgety?" Hana asked curiously as she gave you a side glance.

"I'm finally going to meet mystery guy?!" You whisper, shouted.

"Really?!" she whispered back giving you a shocked look.

"Yeah, today by the fountain,"

"Good luck I hope he's as amazing as he is on the phone," she finally said, her attention going back to the lecture.

Little did you know that a row behind you sat mystery guy and he had listened to your not so silent conversation. He was happy to know you were excited to meet him, but then negative thoughts started to plague his mind. 'What if you are not what she expects?' 'How will she take it when she realizes it was you all this time?' Shaking his head, he focused on the class trying to avoid those thoughts. It was the time you finally knew the truth.

At five on the dot, you sat on a bench around the fountain. You observed how the lights changed color making it look even more beautiful. You could sit there hours on end stuck in your head, yet at the moment you were too aware of your surroundings. Your eyes roamed the area around you waiting for that person to approach you. Many times, you were deceived as a man walked closer, but each time they were greeted by friends or lovers that were not you. Around twenty minutes after five you closed your eyes and let out a sigh. Maybe he wasn't ready to meet you. You didn't understand how a person could be so shy that even after a month of talking they are not ready to see you. Perhaps he didn't like you as much as you thought and all that flirting was for fun.

Still, you decided to wait a few more minutes if by 5:30 he was not here you would leave. Looking around you saw a man approaching you since it was getting dark you couldn't tell who it was. As he got closer your eyebrows furrowed at the person that approached you.

"Hey," he said as he smiled at you.

"What do you want Jimin?" you asked him, your eyes still roaming the area.

"I was supposed to meet someone here,"

"Welcome to the club," you spoke bitterly as you looked at the time with a sigh you stood up.

"Wait, where are you going?" he said alarmed.

"I'm leaving," you exclaimed, "I got stood up," you whispered that last part.

"How are you so sure?" he asked quietly.

"Well, he is not here is he?" you stated loudly.

"I would say he is," he told you decidedly.

"What? Where?" you asked confused seeing nobody else around you two.

"He is standing right in front of you," he revealed as he looked to the ground.

"Are you saying that you're the guy I've been talking to?" you questioned in disbelief.

"Yes," he answers timidly.

"I don't understand you've been bullying me for the past two years and now you tell me that you like me, why?" you yell overwhelmed by the information being revealed.

"I was an idiot," he began saying, "When you started dating Younjin I was jealous. I liked you so much I couldn't handle it so I distanced myself, but you always reached out," as he kept talking his tone became louder until he was practically shouting.

"I was an idiot that didn't know how to handle my feelings, so I pushed you out, and to keep you out the only way I thought to do it was by messing with you and it worked," he admitted his eyes never leaving yours. You stood there surprised letting him explain himself.

"Sadly, those feelings never went away and even if I tried to fool myself I always knew deep down what I felt for you," he finished. While he talked his tone went down to the point where you had to strain your hearing to understand what he said.

"And what's that?" you asked awaiting his answer. Your heart was beating a hundred miles per hour, but so was Jimin's. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time and now that it was finally here, he wanted to let it out.

"That I love you y/n...and I was the fool who pushed you away and then didn't know how to get you back. If I could go back in time and punch myself in the face to stop me from being so stupid and cowardly I would, but I can't," he mentioned with a small chuckle, yet it quickly went away as he said these last words.

"I just hope you can forgive me and my idiocy and give me a chance? If you don't want to that is fine, and I'll understand. I just had to give it a shot."

He looked at you with sad eyes waiting for your response. You stood staring at him for a good minute processing his words. You couldn't believe that the person who you had fallen for was also the person who had tormented you for the past two years. Then again, he was a good friend before it all and you had a crush on him long ago. Were you willing to give him a chance after all he did?

"I agree with you, you are an idiot," you spoke in a serious tone, "but I forgive you."

Jimin gave you a hopeful smile thinking you were giving him a chance, but first you had to make something clear.

"I am willing to give you a chance on one condition," you mysteriously said.

"Anything," he answered quickly, hope never leaving his eyes.

"We are going to take this slowly since I can't simply forget all that you did," you explained having made a decision.

"I understand," he agreed sadly but the spark in his eyes never left nor did the slight curves on his lips.

"So, how about you take me on a date?" you asked with a smile.

"Definitely, where to?" He questioned offering his arm to you as you both walked away from the fountain.

"Surprise me, mystery guy," you replied taking hold of his arm.

"You should have confessed back then," you then spoke.

"Why?" he simply asked.

"Because I had feelings for you too."

He turned to look at you in shock, but then he let out a chuckle as he shook his head.

That was the beginning of your relationship with Jimin or mystery guy. Maybe if either of you had the guts to say it sooner you would have been dating for years now, yet neither did. Perhaps it wasn't the right time, who knows? What you did know was that from that moment on Jimin became his best self, after all, he had the best girl with him. While you worked on the call center, you'd received many calls, but your favorites had to be your mystery guys. When he'd call it was to say one simple thing... "I love you".

A/N: If you guys enjoyed it please let me know and make sure to like and reblog to show your support.

Would you have given Jimin a chance?

-I don't know if I would have. I would have been paranoid that it was a trick or something.

See you guys later ;) 💜 x

-Nikki Marie

[inkribbon796]

Radioactive Ch. 4: The Wolf

Summary: Logan continues trying to make his escape, which he finds is more difficult than it probably should be.

A/N: Title comes from “the Wolf” by SIAMES.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Logan wasn’t quite sure how he got into this situation, but he was determined to find his way out to safety. The logical Side was literally inside the electrical circuitry and connected system of the Server. He knew he didn’t have a physical body, and it was an odd floaty experience. No sense of touch grounding him, but unlike last time when he’d been trapped in a glorified solid state drive for almost a full day, it was energizing. He was pulling energy straight from the power grid. He could move, and he’d gotten into the camera system to be able to hear and see vicariously what was going on.

Troubling, though, he couldn’t find his body where he’d first gone into the stereo system wires in the main room. He didn’t know what happened to it, but he hoped it was reclaimable.

“Where is that muffinhead?” Bad demanded angrily, he was armed with several guns and a furious rage.

“Get in line, Karl felt it too,” Quackity snapped back, “and Skeppy has more aura to spare than Karl does.”

Logan left the hallway and moved into a separate room. He needed to find some type of exit. He needed his equipment and his body, and then he needed to leave. But none of the cameras were positioned near a door. If he could—

The logical Side felt himself being pulled from the system and placed somewhere else. At first Logan felt instinctive fear, remembering the last time he’d been trapped somewhere.

“Calm down,” Tubbo said close to his phone’s microphone. “I happen ta[1] like this phone an’[2] if you break it, I can’t bother Ranboo with it.”

Logan brought up a notepad app and typed: “Where am I?”

“In my phone, big guy,” Tubbo typed, he was smiling and Logan got access to the young man’s camera. “Didn’t want to watch you keep struggling in the camera system. You’re lucky Sam hasn’t found you yet.”

“You have found me, that is not much better,” Logan reminded.

“Yeah, but lucky for you, I have to go home,” Tubbo typed and then pocketed his phone. It cut off Logan’s camera view, but the logical Side could still hear what was going on around Tubbo.

Maybe this was how he could make a quick escape and find the other Sides and they could come back for his body and things. He did not want to leave those, but his survival was more important.

“Hey Tubbo,” Dream’s voice was too close for Logan’s liking. “You find him, yet?”

“Nope, boss man,” Tubbo popped the “p” on his first word, the phone jostling a bit as Tubbo moved. “You need me ta[1] make another round?”

Dream didn’t answer at first.

“Nah,” Dream decided. “Don’t think it’ll do much good. You think about my offer?”

“I did,” Tubbo answered, “it’s a shit offer.”

“Still,” Dream somehow got closer. “The offer stands.”

There was another pause and Logan decided he didn’t like the silence when he couldn’t see.

“Throw in Tommy an’[2] it’s a deal,” Tubbo decided.

Dream let out a cackle, “Didn’t know you still cared about the fucker, but sure, he’s all yours. Take him, so long as I don’t see him, we won’t have any problems.”

“Then we have a deal,” Tubbo agreed. “What you want, fer[3] what I want.”

“Right,” Dream said with a smile almost audible in his tone. There was a shifting and for once Logan could actually feel aura. It made him feel weird but drawn to it like a moth to a flame. “There we go.”

They started moving again.

“You know what Tubbo, you never cease to surprise me,” Dream told Tubbo. “I think it might be because the first time we met, you were desperately trying to be one of Phil’s little fledglings. It was cute in a sad way.”

“Good times,” Tubbo had a soft tone to his voice. “You had ta[1] ruin it by existin’[4].”

“Well, maybe,” Dream half-agreed, “but some cheap blond hair dye was never going to trick Phil into thinking you were one of his.”

“Hey, Dream, can we talk?” Someone Logan didn’t recognize spoke up.

“Give me a minute, Karl,” Dream said. “Just making sure Tubbo here gets home safely.”

“George and I can do that,” Karl promised. “We got this.”

“Oh sure, sure,” Dream agreed. “Tubbo, give me the phone.”

“No,” Tubbo immediately refused as Logan felt an acute sense of dread.

“The phone isn’t part of the deal, give him to me,” Dream ordered.

“Is that yer[5] favor, then?” Tubbo demanded.

“Tubbo,” Dream warned darkly, as Tubbo’s hand went into his pocket. Aura charging around them, ready to strike.

“Dream,” George spoke up, he’d set his hand on Dream’s shoulder. “I’m taking Tubbo home, do you have a problem with that?”

The aura in the room almost plummeted, giving Logan whiplash from where he was hiding.

“Fine, whatever,” Dream growled and Tubbo began moving again.

“Thanks,” Tubbo said.

“Out, before he changes his mind,” Karl began pushing Tubbo towards the back door of the Server and they slipped out. Logan felt the difference but he couldn’t push out of the phone and was completely confused on how to actually perform the action.

“Come on,” Karl urged.

“Shotgun!” Tubbo called out.

“Shotgun!” George called a half-second sooner.

“Come on, man,” George groaned.

“I’m not ridin’[6] bitch, get in the back,” Tubbo chuckled.

“Fucker,” George chuckled.

The three of them got into a car and Logan began to try and escape in earnest, not wanting to be taken to some other location where he also didn’t know where he was.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Tubbo told Logan out loud. “Yer[7] gonna[8] melt my phone.”

“Wow he’s really in there, huh?” Karl commented, as Logan could see through the front and back cameras, but had to switch between the two because his brain could only focus on one at a time.

“Yeah, he can’t get out,” Tubbo seemed to be in the front passenger seat.

Logan accessed Tubbo’s map app.

“There you go, buddy,” Tubbo laughed a bit as Logan started tracking where they were going.

Then Logan texted Jackie, “Driving along NE Ralph St.”

As an afterthought, Logan added, “This is Logan, I have access to Tubbo Underscore’s phone.”

Tubbo took over and called Jackie’s number. It took a little bit for Jackie to answer.

“H-Hello?” Jackie asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Tubbo started, “tell yer legate friend I got his glitch arm in my phone, an’ I kinda want him out before he bricks my phone. You want ta bring yer best tech guy an’ meet us somewhere?”[9]

“How the fook[10] did yeh[11] get my number?” Jackie demanded.

“He’s in my phone,” Tubbo repeated. “Get him out before I have ta[1] get a new one.”

While he was talking, Tubbo began texting Ranboo.

“Boo!!!!”

A response came a couple seconds later. “No.”

“Boo!!! Plz[12] don’t ignore meeeeee!” Tubbo smiled.

“Come ta[1] our base an’[2] we’ll talk,” Jackie told them.

“Gotcha[13], be there soon,” Tubbo promised as Ranboo didn’t answer. He did hang up on Jackie first, and texted Ranboo, “If you don’t stop ignoring me I’m going to start withholding.”

Logan tried to always know where they were often getting in Tubbo’s way as he tried to text.

“No.” Ranboo told him.

“Stop ignoring me and come and pick me up from the heroes’ base.” Tubbo asked, then added, as an afterthought, “plz.”[12]

“Fine,” Ranboo relented.

“Forty minutes to the heroes’s base, Tubbo has requested his husband to be there. There are three people in the car besides myself,” Logan reported. “Also, I may have lost my body and my equipment.”

“Geez,” Tubbo commented. “Calm down, yer[7] gonna freak ‘em[14] out.”

George’s phone buzzed before nanites took over the steering wheel, almost causing an accident as they were pulled off to the side of the road by force. The stop was a little jarring and the front of the car was yanked off and Google was there and looking between the three people in the car.

Karl and Tubbo screamed, George flinched in pure fear.

“Where is he?” Google demanded. “Give him to me!”

The more aggressive android was shoved out of the way by Bing. “I told yeh ta wait one freakin’ second. They were comin’ ta us, dude. E’erythin’ was fine.”[15]

Tubbo leaned over and held out the phone, which Bing gently took.

“See?” Bing smiled. “No need ta[1] freak out. So chill out.”

“Is he glitching?” Google demanded. “He lost his physical form.”

“Googs, chill yer ****s[16] fer about five seconds,” Bing told him. “Lo, can yeh[11] talk ta[1] me in there?”

“No, don’t know how to use the speakers,” Logan wrote in the first document he could bring up.

Bing chuckled, “Yeah, give me a sec[17], never tried ta[1] extract a glitch from somethin’[18]. I got Mini outta[19] my stereo system so it can’t be that much different.”

“I’m not a glitch,” Logan defended stubbornly.

“Lo, you lost yer body, an’ yer stuck in some stranger’s cellphone,”[20] Bing reminded. Then he looked the phone over, “an’[2] I might have ta[1] destroy it ta[1] get you out.”

“Fuck,” Tubbo complained.

“I’ll try an’[2] put it back together,” Bing promised.

“I don’t want to be a glitch,” Logan said and Bing didn’t offer a verbal comment. Logan finally added, “I wish to leave this phone, please.”

“I got you,” Bing promised. “I’m gonna[8] have ta[1] turn the phone off, so don’t freak out. It won’t be too long.”

Jackieboy Man finally reached the group, and Google almost fired on the speedster for getting too close to Bing and Logan too quickly. “Woah!”

“Back up!” Google ordered him.

“Okay, Lo, gonna[8] turn it off in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1,” Bing warned and then he turned on the phone and dismantled it. “Okay Lo, I know you can still hear me. So just relax and— There you are!”

Bing extracted a glowing dark blue orb that swelled out to show a small galaxy inside of it. “Lo? You alright?”

Logan didn’t talk, he was more aware of what was around him rather than seeing it himself.

“Yeah, we need ta[1] get you inta[21] a speaker or somethin’[18],” Bing decided, and Logan’s orb floated haltingly over to Google who shielded the orb with his nanites.

“Yes?” Google asked carefully.

Logan used the little bit of aura he had the ability to use and pulled and pushed the nanites between him and Google.

It took Google a second or two to realize what Logan was asking.

“Oh, of course,” Google smiled and pulled out a cube of nanites, “They’re yours, I made sure to keep them operational for you.”

Logan hesitated, knowing how those nanites had been used before, but he took them. To the logical Side it was like stepping into a familiar pair of shoes, or a well loved coat. These nanites were his. They knew his form and obeyed his command. The imitation of flesh and sinew and bone swirled into being, more of a shell than an actual body. But they were something.

It formed, rather unfortunately the last setting they had been set to, which was Logan’s future Suit of Spades outfit, the nanites turning a glossy black with a brass spade in the front.

“Ugh,” Logan groaned, the voice modulator still active and Logan was quick to try and deactivate that. “I hate this suit.”

“Yeah, not expecting ta[1] see it either,” Jackie agreed as Google had a camera track around Logan as Logan tried to get the nanites to reset to his normal suit but it required a password and Logan didn’t know it.

PATTON

Logan typed it and to his amazement, it worked and he cursed his older self’s single minded nature. He spent a couple minutes reconfiguring the settings for it to turn back into his normal nanite suit and Logan felt relief.

“I wish to go home,” Logan decided.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Jackie smiled, happy to have Logan back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. to

2. and

3. for

4. existing

5. your

6. riding

7. You’re

8. going to

9. tell your legate friend I got his glitch arm in my phone, and I kind of want him out before he bricks my phone. You want to bring your best tech guy and meet us somewhere?

10. fuck

11. you

12. Please

13. Got you (or: Understand)

14. them

15. I told you to wait one freaking second. They were coming to us, dude. Everything was fine.

16. tits

17. second

18. something

19. out of

20. Lo, you lost your body, and you’re stuck in some stranger’s cellphone

21. into

[mightbewriting]

Your writing is superb! Wait and Hope is now an all-time favorite fic of mine! I especially admire your ability to write dialogue. Do you have any tips on how to write distinct character voices?

Oh wow, thank you so much! I’m so happy you enjoyed W&H! Dialogue is actually one of my favorite things about writing so the fact that you liked it makes my heart pitter-patter! 

I apologize for sitting on this ask for a couple of days, but I wanted to actually think about some tips for character voice as it relates to dialogue! I do enjoy occasionally nerding out about writing… so without further ado, I’m about to nerd out A LOT (seriously, A LOT). I got a little carried away, but this was so much fun to think about! So, here are some of my thoughts on writing dialogue and using it to support distinct character voices.

The biggest tip I have on how to improve writing the way people talk is to listen to how people talk. Seems obvious, I know. But I mean how real people talk, not scripted movie and TV…which I think is often what comes to mind. I learned more about how people talk in the couple of months I did freelance transcription work than I did in the entirety of the first twenty-something years of my life. You don’t have to actually do transcription work to practice this, just find unscripted video or audio of people talking (interviews, vlogs, streamers, podcasts, whatever!) and type out it out.

The first thing I noticed when I actually had to transcribe real life conversations is that people often make NO SENSE when they talk. They have false starts, verbal pauses, non verbal pauses, they repeat words, they stop mid sentence to start another thought, they fumble with word choice, and so on. This is why professional transcription services offer VERBATIM transcription and NON VERBATIM transcription (I have a point to this, I swear!). Verbatim transcription is how it sounds, you have to type exactly what you hear:

Speaker A: “As I was— I was saying, ah, um, I think we should do— Mary, did you have thoughts on that? No, um, okay [cough], does anyone have any other thou— opinions before we move on?”

Like, what does that even mean? 

Non verbatim transcription teaches you to edit out the stuff that makes real life speech mostly unintelligible (I’m eternally amazed that we’re able to make sense of stuff like that on the fly! Brains are amazing!) and it turns the sentence above into something more like:

Speaker A: “Mary, did you have thoughts on that? No, okay. Does anyone have any other opinions before we move on?”

This is a pretty heavy handed edit, but I’d argue that the first 13 words of the verbatim sentence is nothing but a false start. I also removed the verbal pauses, the coughing notation, and the switch between words mid-speech. What I’m left with is something that looks and sounds more like what you might see in scripted dialogue. 

All of this is to say; when writing, for coherency’s sake, it’s helpful to write in a non verbatim style so you can be understood. BUT, I love throwing in the occasional false start or thought change mid-sentence, or even a rare verbal pause because I enjoy the bit of realism it adds. I know not everyone will agree with that, but that’s just how I enjoy dialogue.  

Character voice comes into play with dialogue in a lot of ways. If I could boil it down to two things; it’s about WHAT they say and HOW they say it. The WHAT involves things vocabulary: words one character might use that another wouldn’t, or a word they might know that another doesn’t. The HOW involves things like your dialogue tags and the associated actions and narrative surrounding the actual speech.

Rapid fire tips for the WHATs: people speak almost exclusively in contractions, they typically only saying things like “can not” and “do not” etc., for emphasis. Read dialogue out loud; if it sounds weird to hear then it’s probably not right. Character motivation is key; what someone says should make sense for their personality, traits, and history. People don’t always answer questions directly, or say what they mean. Less is usually more, unless someone is especially verbose or engaged in a debate, people don’t tend to wax poetic in long monologues all that often. 

My tips for the HOWs are less rapid fire because I want to talk about dialogue tags and that’s, idk…divisive? Here’s the thing; ‘said’ and ‘asked’ (or their other tense counterparts) are pretty much invisible and are used mostly to indicate who is speaking so a reader doesn’t get lost. Less is more with dialogue tags, too.

Alternative dialogue tags aren’t inherently evil (things like: whispered, shouted, grunted, grumbled, mumbled, growled, exclaimed, ordered, etc. have a place when used judiciously) but they are almost always a stand in for what could be a more interesting use of character voice. It usually ends up being a situation where a writer is telling the reader how to interpret dialogue instead of letting the dialogue speak for itself. So I try to use alternative tags very sparingly; you can actually see my evolution in this throughout W&H and then in S&S and my newer stuff, because I went from being subconsciously aware of it to more consciously practicing.  

Consider this real life example of something I wrote from Ron’s POV:

Malfoy forced them out of his office.

“Now you two figure out the details amongst yourselves; I have work to do,” Malfoy ordered.

I used ‘ordered’ knowing I was using an alternative tag and thinking to myself ‘it’s not so bad here, Ron would think Malfoy is ordering him around.’ Which isn’t necessarily wrong…but it’s not all that interesting. My rewrite, after being rightfully called on my bullshit for being lazy about it, looked like this:

Malfoy forced them out of his office.

“Now you two figure out the details amongst yourselves; I have work to do.” Malfoy waved his hands to dismiss them like they were elves he’d had more than enough of.

This version has a stronger character voice; we get Ron’s interpretation that Malfoy is treating him like an elf and we can imagine a physical movement from Malfoy showing how he’s speaking. I think that’s both more interesting to read and has a stronger sense of voice. When and where possible, I would say that substituting some kind of physical action or observation associated with dialogue usually results in a stronger sense of voice, either from the narrator or the speaker, or both! 

This response has gotten…lengthy. I’m sorry for that (but also, not sorry because writing is so interesting xD). In conclusion, writing is subjective and everyone has their own style. I don’t mean for this to be prescriptive advice, these are simply things that are on my mind when I’m writing dialogue and that I think lead to a stronger result. If nothing else: experiment. Write something exclusively in a verbatim style, write something exclusively with alternative tags, write something with no dialogue tags at all, write an enormous monologue and then figure out how to break it up. Try all sorts of different things to see what doesn’t sound right and what does. Learn the rules and then make your own.

Mostly, have fun. <3