#I had to scroll passed like 4 separate how-to's 3 of which were not even related to find this information

[coockie8]

I think it's honestly for the best I don't have the patience to learn how to dox people, 'cause like :/ :/ :/

Yeah, if I'm looking up how to get out of the canvas mode of some program and I have to scroll passed more than 4 different how-to's, one of which is teaching how to access what I'm stuck in, I will knock your teeth out if I ever meet you in person.

I think it goes without saying that if I looked up "how to get out of X programs canvas mode" then I'm probably not looking for "how to access X programs canvas mode"

[pulchrasilva]

One Line, Any Fic

I was tagged by @ihasafandom 

Rules: pick any 10 of your WIP fics (or finished; go nuts), scroll somewhere to the mid-point, pick a line, and share it! Then tag 10 people.

These are maybe a bit more than a line but shhh

A mix of Sanders Sides, Roleslaying and Venom fics. Some of these are just single lines jotted down in my notes, some of them are fic I haven’t touched in years, and exactly one of them is actually finished and should be posted soon :D feel free to ask me about any of these because I’d love to talk about them it’s how I get inspiration

These are maybe a bit more than a line but shhh

No pressure tags: @fangirltothefullest @lost-in-thought-20 @theimprobabledreamersworld @remus-of-reston @ant1m0ny @lost-in-frog-land @kitausuret @soodoonimin @korruptbrekker @brandstifter-sys

1. I’m Yours

Of course, the dish had long since gone cold, and there was no way Logan would be eating it after he stepped in it, but the idea made him want to smile, or cry. Both actions were things he hadn’t done in a long time.

2. Don the Sash and Sceptre

Roman strutted down the school corridor like it was his own personal walkway carpeted in red. In a way, it was. Not literally of course, but the way heads turned as he passed by more than made up for that.

3. all i wanna do is take the sad from you

Patton conjured Roman’s orb, and sure enough, amid the scarlets and crimsons and wine reds, a patch of dark, dark red swallowed the prince’s positivity. A blemish on Roman’s courageous and hopeful personality.

4. every memory adds another piece

Steeling himself, the Janus seized Patton by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug – to hide his face, of course. He couldn’t let another side see him crying. That’s what this was about. It had nothing to do with how isolated he felt, or how the physical contact to grounded him inside his own skin.

5. An Alien Symbiote and a Very Resourceful Goat

Venom moved slowly, both to avoid scaring it off and because he physically couldn’t move any faster. When he was near enough to extend a trembling tendril, Venom wasted no time. He latched on to white fur and sunk past the skin. 

6. i know a place where the pain doesn't reach

It was so tender, so vulnerable yet relaxed, in a way that he'd never seen either of them. He'd been travelling with Youngblood for a while now, and slowly getting to know Noise since leaving Neon, but this was a level of familiarity and trust that he couldn't even dream of. The sight had his heart aching with a sudden craving for this, this intimacy, with them.

7. Unnamed

A road, entirely straight, stretches off in either direction into the distance, cutting through the bleak muted orange of the land on either side, dried mud with deep fissures and completely flat. A little way off to his left was what appeared to be a cactus, guarded and intimidating. To his right, a mountain range formed a paper thin outline along the horizon. Thomas started walking. Did it really matter which direction?

8. Unnamed

"You don't need him. I do. And like hell am I gonna let Cletus go after all that time we were separated. If you can't deal with that, you can go find another host that's willing to give up everything for you. Or you could help me save my husband."

9. Unnamed

Carnage grew, spilling out of the heart and into the surrounding veins and arteries, until he filled ever vein, every artery, every tiny capillary. Blood replaced entirely by something new. His body and Cletus's intertwined, forever.

10. A Tragedy with a Happy Ending

Their bones clacked together as Cross took his hand. It felt different from before - there was no warmth, no soft flesh padding out their grip. But even after all the years apart and all the ways they'd changed, their hands fit together perfectly - like they always had.

[iviarellereads]

The Great Hunt, Chapter 22 - Watchers

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one!)

(Dagger icon) In which it becomes easy to point at a narrative parallel.

PERSPECTIVE: Nothing is happening as Moiraine expects it to.(1) She's in a room full of scrolls and papers and books, in a small house in a small town in Arafel, owned by two retired Aes Sedai. Adeleas and Vandene have been in voluntary retreat for so long that few at the Tower even remember they're still alive.

Out of nowhere, she asks Lan if he remembers how they met. She only just catches his eyebrow twitch, just once, with surprise. Almost twenty years ago she told him she would never speak of it again, and expected the same of him.

“I remember,” was all he said. “And still no apology, I suppose? You threw me into a pond.” She did not smile, though she could feel amusement at it, now. “Every stitch I had was soaked, and in what you Bordermen call new spring.(2) I nearly froze.” “I recall I built a fire, too, and hung blankets so you could warm yourself in privacy.” He poked at the burning logs and returned the firetool to its hook. Even summer nights were cool in the Borderlands. “I also recall that while I slept that night, you dumped half the pond on me. It would have saved a great deal of shivering on both our parts if you had simply told me you were Aes Sedai rather than demonstrating it. Rather than trying to separate me from my sword. Not a good way to introduce yourself to a Borderman, even for a young woman.”

They reminisce about how Moiraine tormented Lan on their first adventure, until Lan asks why the nostalgia. Moiraine says that she made arrangements so that, if she dies, his bond as Warder will pass to another Aes Sedai, and he will feel compelled to seek her out immediately. She doesn't want him to be surprised by it.

Lan gets angry. Moiraine has never used his bond to compel him to anything. Moiraine says that if she hadn't done this, he would be free after her death, and she can't let him go take up his useless quest for revenge in the Blight when he could fight the same war more effectively elsewhere. She can't be sure that she'll die soon, obviously, but with her plans coming to fruition like this... who can say what will happen now, at any time? Lan asks who the other Aes Sedai is, and Mo names Myrelle, a Green. She already has three Warders, so she should be well able to keep Lan in line. But Mo has made Myrelle promise that if someone who suits him better comes along,(3) that Myrelle will pass his bond on to her. Lan is outraged. No Aes Sedai has passed a bond to another in four hundred years, and she intends to do it to Lan, twice?! Mo says it is done, and she will not undo it.(4)

When Lan asks if Mo knows who might get his bond in the end of this game of musical Aes Sedai, Mo dances around the answer and simply says whoever it is, she’ll have need of a man with his knowledge and strength and willingness to throw her in a pond when she’s wrong. Lan shows uncharacteristic shock, but before he can ask who, Mo asks if the bond chafes, now.(5)

“The Light blind me, if I am to be passed from hand to hand, do you at least have some idea in whose hand I will end?” “What I do is for your own good, and perhaps it may be for another’s, as well. It may be that Myrelle will find a slip of a girl just raised to sisterhood—was that not what you said?—who needs a Warder hardened in battle and wise in the ways of the world, a slip of a girl who may need someone who will throw her into a pond. You have much to offer, Lan, and to see it wasted in an unmarked grave, or left to the ravens, when it could go to a woman who needs it would be worse than the sin of which the Whitecloaks prate. Yes, I think she will have need of you.” Lan’s eyes widened slightly; for him it was the same as another man gasping in shocked surmise. She had seldom seen him so off balance. He opened his mouth twice before he spoke. “And who do you have in mind for this—” She cut him off. “Are you sure the bond does not chafe, Lan Gaidin? Do you realize for the first time, only now, the strength of that bond, the depth of it? You could end with some budding White, all logic and no heart, or with a young Brown who sees you as nothing more than a pair of hands to carry her books and sketches. I can hand you where I will, like a parcel—or a lapdog—and you can do no more than go. Are you sure it does not chafe?”

Lan asks if this has been a test of his loyalty to Mo, and she says no, none of this was a test, but at Fal Dara, she did begin to wonder if he was wholly with her. He looks wary, but before he can react much, she asks why he taught Rand as he did, on the way to the Amyrlin's meeting? He just says it seemed right, and he'd have to be a lord someday, better to make sure his first impressions on certain important people are in the right direction. Like a wolfhound meeting a wolf, it must act like a wolfhound, not a puppy, or it will get itself killed. Is that what he sees Aes Sedai as? Wolves? No, he clarifies, but the ta'veren pull at everything around them. It felt like the right thing to do. He hasn't asked to be released from his bond, nor will he, and he will take great pleasure in keeping her alive and making sure her backup plans are for nothing.

She asks him to leave her to think alone. She thinks of Nynaeve, cracking Lan's walls and seeding them with vines to tear them down, but he still thinks they're strong as anything. Mo feels an uncharacteristic stab of jealousy.(6) They've been through so much together, and Lan had always said he was wedded to death, pushing himself beyond normal human limits because he valued her life above his own. Now a new bride has captured his heart, and he doesn't even see it yet.

But, as she gets to her feet to keep poring over her scrolls and books, she reminds herself there are more important matters. So many hints, and no answers. Soon Vandene brings her a cup of tea and asks what she's seeking. Mo says honestly that she doesn't really know. Vandene notes the wide array of subjects Mo has books on, then says she’ll leave her to her reading in privacy.

Mo stops her, and tries to find questions that won't give away too much of her own knowledge. Is there a connection between the Dragon and the Horn? No, except that the Horn must be found before the Last Battle, which the Dragon will fight. Does anything link the Dragon to Toman Head? Yes and no. There's a verse in the original prophecies that reads ‘Five ride forth, and four return. Above the watchers shall he proclaim himself, bannered cross the sky in fire. . . .’ though there's some debate about the word that so often gets translated to simply "watchers", it's still unclear.(7)

Vandene has heard about a supposed Dragon named Mazrim Taim, who can channel. Mo says offhandedly that she doesn't think they'll have to worry about him, then asks about Shadar Logoth. Vandene thinks she's still talking about Dragons, but Mo clarifies: is there any reason a Fade would take something that came from Shadar Logoth? No. What does Vandene know of the Forsaken? She comments on how Mo leaps from subject to subject, but she knows little more than any novice. Does Mo know something about the Dragon? Has he already been Reborn?

Mo asks if she would be here instead of in the White Tower if she knew anything, which Vandene accepts. She goes on about some of the dilemma about how Aes Sedai can't gentle the true Dragon lest he fail in the Last Battle, but says the signs of Tarmon Gai'don are clear. Mo says simply that he will come, and do what must be done.

Vandene gets up to excuse herself, but says that Mo should "do something" about Lan, he's got something pent up inside. Maybe he's finally come to see her as a woman? Mo says Lan sees her for exactly what she is, and hopefully still a friend. Vandene comments that Blue Ajah are “Always so ready to save the world that you lose yourselves.” After Vandene leaves, Mo goes down to the garden in the moonlight to think. Something Vandene said tugs at her memory, like it's relevant.(8)

Lan and Jaem, Vandene's Warder, take down the Draghkar. Lan says if Mo hadn't made him so angry, he wouldn't have gone around the corner from the gardens to practice the forms with Jaem, and they wouldn't... Mo says the Pattern accounts for everything.(9)

Adeleas demands to know how the thing could have snuck up on them, and Mo says it was warded. Adeleas cuts herself off as she realizes only another Aes Sedai could do that. Mo names the Black Ajah. But then, WHY did it come here?

Instead of answering,(10) Mo says she and Lan must leave immediately. She'll leave letters for them to forward to the White Tower, if they can?

Adeleas nodded absently, her attention still on the thing on the ground. “And will you find your answers where you are going?” Vandene asked. “I may already have found one I did not know I sought. I only hope I am not too late. I will need pen and parchment.” She drew Vandene toward the house, leaving Adeleas to deal with the Draghkar.

=====

(1) So, here's a fun phenomenon: especially when we're switching POVs so much, take a step back every now and again and ask yourself, why are these two storylines back to back? In this case, it's said right in the text, but other times it'll be less obvious. Consider: flipping between Rand and Egwene and Perrin's POVs as they all have to learn how to embrace their abilities and be part of a bigger community and a bigger apparatus than their individual lives so far. RJ did a LOT of really intentional compare-and-contrasts back to back like that. I like to think having Moiraine say the same thing Rand just did at the end of the other chapter is his way of drawing attention to that, as we start really going all-in on "hey the story isn't just about this one guy". (2) Such a cheeky reference to what would a few years later become the title of the only prequel novel that ever ended up written. (3) And just whomst might come along and turn Lan's head, be worthy of his bond, his oath, his loyalty, his heart? (4) So, the whole concept of passing the bond to another Aes Sedai without the Warder's permission or knowledge is pretty fucked up, and I 100% cannot blame Lan for being angry. We don't know anything about Myrelle yet but… there's absolutely reason for Lan to be angry there, all things considered. Plus side, Moiraine has at the very least made Myrelle promise to give Lan's bond to Nynaeve if or when she's raised to Aes Sedai rank, jealous as she is of the young woman. (5) Continuing on from point 4, something I haven't really touched on much yet is how the magic system, with the taint on the male half, has effectively led to a situation where Original Sin lies with men. Even though they're physically somewhat larger and stronger on average than women are in the world, they're mistrusted, because of that association with the Breaking and the taint. So, despite that we still have some gender dynamics in play that we're familiar with, we also have a dimension that alters it. All the way back to the Women's Circle in Emond's Field, the men have their Council but the women nudge them one way or the other on major decisions, or have the deciding vote in the form of the Wisdom. The consent issue with regard to Warder bonds comes up again, obviously, or it wouldn't be seeded here. We can deal with it a little more in depth as it comes. But, the whole "what if this is a deliberate commentary on our real-world gender dynamics" thing is kind of an important lens to view the series through. I think this one was intentional. If Moiraine were a man in a magic-using version of our patriarchal world, how much would he probably think about passing on his life partner's bond to another man? RJ seems to have intentionally reversed a lot of tropes in an effort to make us think, really think, about gender dynamics. (6) Wouldn't Nynaeve crow to hear of it? (7) As if we needed more indication that we're going to Toman Head this book. (8) That's a lot of rambling in the section with Vandene, I wonder what it is specifically that pings Moiraine's memory. (9) So, Mo is important enough to need saving for later, is she? (10) She knows very well that it was here for her and Lan.

[spiltscribbles]

Oooo it’s my birthday today and I neeeeeed my sweet boys, is it too greedy if I ask for you to write something absolutely adores like you always do. I can wait there’s no rush. It would really make my day a whole lot better

~Notes: HI HI BABY!!! I’m so so fucking sorry this is like two days late 😭😭😭 I am a piece of shit and I had an idea and then I scrapped it and then I came up with this crack shit! But I included singling like you wanted!! And ILU endlessly!!! I hope your birthday was at least filled with sunlight and friends and all the adoration you deserve🎉🎉🎂🥳🎈🎈🎈🎊🎊🥳🎁. And I hope this isn’t a shitty gift!😭😭

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Send Me A Prompt<3  |  A Reblog is like a hug!!!!

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The 4 Times People Suspected About Remus and Sirius, and The One Time They Called It By Name

.-

~I~

Peter notices it first.

He doesn’t know quite what it is, or what it means— Peter doesn’t understand what it entails when he’s watching the way Sirius gently thumbs at a high patch on Remus’s cheek while he’s sleeping on the hospital bed after the first full moon of fourth year, a fraught look in his stormy eyes. Or how Remus’s gaze always search Sirius out first after he’s made a wry comment in the expense of the Slytherins, going alight with the other boy’s laughter. Peter doesn’t comprehend the way it sometimes seems like he’s caught in some sort of static— a negative space that makes him feel out of bounds— when he’s alone with only the pair of them. When they’re all huddled around the common area or their dormitory while James is probably skulking in search of Lily Evans or cajoling the other chasers to have another lap around the court. With Remus lounging on his fourposter, or the sofa, reading one of the infinite books he’s got tucked away in his trunk, and Sirius is quietly  sat by his feet, toying with a non-magical contraption he’s found in Muggle London after sneaking out from his ancestral home while his folks were having a row. And Peter is ordinarily just fiddling with a scroll he has to finish for one of the tougher courses from a bit away, intermittently  glancing at them side long, just waiting for an excuse to leave the suffocating ambiance that feels like it’s been fitted for just the pair of them and not another soul.

But the most peculiar part about all of this is that Peter is accustomed to feeling like the spare, the cast off who’s clinging to the glimmering forms that are James and Sirius, and their ravenous appetite for any and all attention that’s given over because that’s the sort of boys they are— affluent and prominent and radiating with a sort of spark that’s all there own— the sort of boys that others find doubtless that they are something miraculous. But when Peter’s around just the pair of them, in the corner of the galaxy that the marauders have carved for them to rule like kings— It never feels quite so stilted, so weighty. Sirius and James have a gift of making everyone in the room feel like they’re in on the joke, that they could be showered with that same granger just as long as they play in the tableau. Remus and Sirius together feels the contrary of that, like there’s something pregnant lying between them, waiting to pounce. Like there’s an understanding that no one else gets to glimpse at, and no one else should try. An understanding  that’s personal and private and crackling with an energy that is far beyond anything between mere friends, beyond anything Peter could fathom with all his fifteen years.

Idly, over supper after an entire two hours being stuck between that strange tension simmering beneath the surface of Remus and Sirius, Peter wonders for the umpteenth time on whether he should ask James about this development in their small brotherhood, should ask him if he’s detected the difference there. And if he has, Peter will listen to James’s plan to ensure this doesn’t ruin anything. How whatever is brewing under the surface won’t absolutely ruin them.

But then, from the corner of his eye, Peter sees Sirius— none to gently— piling Remus’s plate with an abundance of the potatoes that Moony likes best, dipping down to whisper something in his ear— something surely lecherous— before tousling his curls in that brash, bombastic way of his that he does with Peter and James too, even if he ends it by gingerly cupping the nape of Remus’s neck with a surreptitious squeeze that ends just as quickly as it began, falling back into conversation with James and Marlene about the Wasps’s chances against the Harpies this Friday night as if it was just an innate action, even if it’s one Peter’s only ever witnessed him doing to Remus.

And even though there’s another full in two days, and even though Remus looks like a walking inferi— pale faced and exhausted posture and circles the color of midnight smudged beneath his eyes— Peter watches the ends of his lips quirk up into the best approximation of a smile Peter’s ever seen on him so close to the wolf breaking through the surface of his body that’s all skin and bones, and he isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the light or not, but Remus actually looks like he might be glowing over the strange attention that Sirius’s only ever paid to him.

So no… No, Peter doesn’t think he’ll ask James quite yet, reckons that if anything can help his moon plagued friend, that it must be something good, something that shouldn’t be tempered with.

They can figure out how the strange string pulling Remus and Sirius together will alter their brotherhood later on, there’s still time. There’ still a possibility that it won’t devastate everything.

~II~

Lily’s suspected for a while.

The thing is that she’s known about Remus since the end of third year, when he rebuffed the advances of an eager Heleen  Abed, and Lily found him on the ledge of the largest window in the vacant common room— the same one that they regularly commandeer with Mary McDonald to discuss the finer points of Muggle politics and current events, separate from the melting pot of their Gryffindor class that’s composed of either pure bloods or those with their closest Muggle relative being a long dead grandparent. And it was definitely a dangerous, knife’s edge she was playing at, but Lily had sat besides the boy who she’s cultivated a real and true friendship with— one beyond pleasant platitudes and fodder about their course work— and she told him about her cousin Joey with green spiked hair and a mischievous smile adorned with a sparkling stud and how she and Petunia had caught him holding hands with one of his friends from sixth-form in the garden of her Aunt’s cottage, and how even the sneer on her older sisters lips hadn’t deterred Lily from thinking anything but mild indifference about the situation. Only wanting her cousin to always live in that easy effervescence she’s always known when it came to him.

And nothing else was exchanged between them, but Remus had grinned in that barely perceptible way of his, and Lily had nudged his shoulder with her own and then fished out her final handful of chocolate frogs for them to share while they revise their notes for the transfiguration exam coming up. 

Two summers have past since then—they’re in the midst  of their final term of fifth year now— and she thinks that they’ve become even closer, that the frequent late nights in the library for their impending OWLs and their countless prefect rounds has helped forge a real and true bond— especially that whole snag earlier in the year when they had realized they were both snogging Leon Bennett on alternating nights behind greenhouse three. But all of that withstanding, Lily knows that there are still secrets Remus keeps tight to his chest, ones that Lily’s analytical mind— the mind of a potions expert and future healer— has suspected to do with the thin, silvery scars running down his strong hands that are all tapered fingers and slender wrists, and another across his right bicep that she saw when he had changed his robes for a jumper in front of her, and the one cutting down from the bottom of his ear and nearly across the entire length of his neck, ending at the corner of his sharp collarbone. But Lily suspects he’ll tell her about that soon enough, what she isn’t so confident about is him admitting that particularly dazed look he gets when around Black, of all people. The way he stammers his words occasionally and the way he worries on his bottom lip while averting his glance when Sirius is chatting up a very pleased looking girl, and the way he flushes when Lily is ribbing about him in particular. And Lily knows that the foursome of Gryffindor boys had a falling out of sorts before winter hols, that there’s a hairline fracture between them and Remus now— one that she’s sure no one else can pick up on after the way they had seemingly come back together in late January, right before her birthday funnily enough. But Lily’s always been the analytical  sort— the sort to absorb the barebones of a situation so she could conjure a hypothesis that she could prove after careful study.

So Lily knows that it’s something deeper, and she can see  how Remus is reticent around them in ways she’s actually worried won’t be shaken off anytime soon— which is all levels of bazaar considering she’s been telling Remus for years that he needs to shrug off his rowdy mates like a snake shedding an old coat. But before, when she’d barb as much he’d only stick out his tongue and tell her what happens to busybodies, and how she doesn’t really know them at all. But now days, he just looks particularly hurt, and more than a bit put out, and Lily catches him flickering over to wherever Sirius was holding court, longing in a way she couldn’t possibly articulate out loud.

Honestly Lily thinks it’s really quite gracious of her to have dropped the subject completely, rather, she takes up the mantel of his friend that can distract him from all those sorts of woes, biting her tongue over his lingering feelings for Sirius that are more than likely far beyond a passing fancy. And she thinks that maybe that’s a good call, maybe it’s good for Remus to beat down those sorts of emotions  that he’s harboring for the wanker. She knows Remus, and she knows he wouldn’t hold a grudge— even such a quiet one— for no reason at all. Besides, she doesn’t really think it’s her place to tell him how when he’s glancing away, Sirius is holding vigil to him with that same sort of fervor. That Sirius is the one who collects the notes for all his classes on those conspicuous absences of his when Remus is feeling poorly in the infirmary. That Sirius occasionally looks so very gutted when Remus is wilting away from them, when he seeks Lily’s company instead.

She has a heavy suspicion that Remus might already know all of those things— that maybe they’ve already discussed it at length, that maybe the falling out in December has caused a full stop of anything that could’ve potentially blossomed between them. And she just wishes she knew the entire story so she could decide on whether she should be jinxing Black’s face to a putrid orange color, or pushing Remus to actually give him a chance.

Lily just wishes she could read Black as easily as she can Remus, maybe that would help in this experiment she’s testing, because for now she’s just confused as all hell over what exactly Black feels towards him. Well that is until it’s a fortnight before Remus’s birthday, and she’s being bodily dragged into a closet on her way to charms.

“Oi— What the bloody—“

“Language, Evans,” the annoyingly familiar baritone of Sirius Black tsks, lighting up the cupboard with his wand and smirking in that jagged way she’s heard countless girls tittering over, and the one that makes her want to pop him one right against his ridiculously smug face.

“Black,” she says, caustic as all get out with her fists clenched against her sides and her brows making a really resilient effort to meet in the middle. “You’ve got thirty seconds before I hex your bollocks off.”

“Pff, and Jamie thinks you’re some sort of saint.”

“Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven. Twenty-six.”

Sirius pulls a face at her, but must understand the credence in the words, because it’s not another moment more before he pulls out a bedraggled looking slip of paper from his robe’s pocket, and thrusts it at her face. So with an indignant huff, Lily opens it up and begins scanning the words— becoming all the more confused when she sees measurements and things like coco powder and melted butter, instead of whatever the hell else she was preparing herself to read.

“I’m being pranked, aren’t I? You’re trying to distract me so you and Potter can do something horrid to the Slytherin’s common room.”

“We’ve actually already done that today,” Sirius jeers, raising up his hands in concession with a cluck of the tongue at her scowling face. “’s from Moony’s mum, all right. I asked her to send me the recipe of this chocolate cake she use to make him for his birthdays before Hogwarts— I just thought… It might be nice is all, and you can sod right off if you look at me like that, Evans, with the soft eyes and all that rot. Are you going to help me or not?”

Lily resolutely ignores the pang to her heart, because God, this really is such a sweet gesture. “And what? you thought I could help you because I’m a bird?” She asks in the most scolding inflection she could muster in the face of this incredibly soppy gift he wants to give Remus.

“None of that, blimey, Evans.” Sirius snarls, obviously diffident, and combined with the faint flush to his cheeks, Lily suddenly realizes why he’s considered one of the best looking blokes in the entirety of their school. “There’s a whole load of Muggle mumbo jumbo, so it was between asking you, or McDonald, and I adore Mary and all, but  she has got such a mouth on her.”

“You should know,” Lily counters with a leer. “She couldn’t stop going on about your date back in October.”

Sirius’s brows hike, and he actually smiles at her— one that’s vacant from all his bravado from his upbringing in his pretentious, pure blood home, and one that isn’t trying to show off. And Lily can’t help but favoringly liken him to an excited pug. “Oh you’re wicked, Evans!” He shrills delightedly. “Oh this is great, you’re just as depraved as Remus, are all prefects like this?”

Lily snorts, shaking her head at him, indulgent. “Never mind that, Black. Most of this stuff can be found in the kitchens below, I’m sure the house elves won’t mind us borrowing anything.”

“And the ingredients that won’t be down their?” He asks worriedly.

“Well, good on you planning this so far ahead of time, we’ll just have to experiment.”

Sirius groans in retort, muttering things about Muggle potions and James thinking he’s getting off with his future wife and other ridiculous things that Lily doesn’t bother to stay and listen to. Though, when Remus’s birthday does roll around, and she sees his countenance go a thousand shades brighter as he bites into the pudding, and Sirius’s grin stretch just that much more across his face in response— their eyes meeting across the room and past the crowds— Well Lily suspects Sirius never really minded any of the things he was whinging on about, not at all, not as long as the result was a beaming Remus.

~III~

Regulus hears about it in the halls.

He’s not much for gossip or that sort of dribble, doesn’t have much patience for anyone outside his house if he’s being at all frank— and even then, it’s not as if he doesn’t frequently find himself escaping to his fourposter for a moment’s quiet. It seems that everyone in this bloody castle are just dimwitted, daft idiots, and Regulus’s never been the sort to offer allowances for that kind of behavior. He’s been raised in the home of a family as close to royalty as Wizards permit, a prince among men. And he was told that he should have patience for the dull folks beneath him, just as long as they have the correct ideals, but sometimes he can’t help but wish they would all just let him be, sometimes feels like he’s being carted around Hogwarts as the perfect pure blood,  like he was nine years old again and being shown off in the parlor of  his home when guests came to call, watching from the sidelines while his mother rave about how splendid of an heir Sirius is turning out to be. How his tutor calls him a genius for any age, and how darling he looks in Slytherin green, and how he’s already mastered three romance languages to help in his spell work. 

And Regulus can’t help but scoff at those contemplations now, thinking of the past summer when his dramatic and brash brother had made a whole production of leaving behind the values that gave him everything he has. How he escaped to that Potter git’s home the way he’s been doing for nearly every holiday since his second year, how he offered Regulus to come along as if he’s a trader just like him. What a risible excuse for an heir.

But Regulus won’t commit such follies, he’ll make his parents proud— even if his father is nearly never paying much mind and his mother goes from raving to sickly in a blink of an eye. It doesn’t matter, because he’ll carry on the Black legacy, something that his oh so perfect brother never could’ve done. Regulus is only a fifth year, will be turning sixteen in only two months after Sirius’s coming of age, and sure, this might mean he’s still young enough that the Death Eaters don’t find him adequate to fight on the line of fire, but he’ll do it eventually, feels the weight of the letter from Bellatrix praising him for as much resting heavy in his pocket. And if Regulus finds them all a bit too vicious or a bit too excitable and completely lacking a deft hand to make the changes they’re searching for, he shrugs it off. He knows what he must do, and as he stares at his brother from across the valley cusping the lake, he’s only that much more steadfast in the conviction of the fact.

Sirius is sitting and laughing with a group of his Gryffindor mates, the mudbloods, and blood traders that had warped him from the brother he knew to the stranger he is now. And there’s a dark skinned Ravenclaw bird— Meadowes if he remembers correctly from his prefect meetings— and she’s telling some sort of long winded tail with hand gestures and loud cackling coming from the group as she goes on. And Sirius is tossing around a quaffle with Potter— the glint of a handsome, silver watch on his wrist catching in the dying sunlight. And Regulus wonders who had gifted him such a personal passage to adulthood, but is soon distracted by spotting the way Sirius nearly gets smacked in the face with the ball because he was too busy gawking over  at Lupin in such a stripped down, cautious way that it makes Regulus squirm.

He doesn’t know much about the elder Prefect, only that his name had come up nearly as much as Potters during that first year when Sirius would send him correspondence on a frequent basis because he knew how lonely Regulus would get while stuck in Grimmauld all by himself. And then when he began attending Hogwarts, Regulus never could get a good reading on him. He knew Potter because of how his family is infamous for their liberal views and nouveau riche attitudes, and Pettigrews family owns a hokey herb shop in Diagon. All he’s found out about the Lupins is that his father is the son of half-bloods and his mother is a Muggle, and that this mudblood is a reserved, carefully aloof bugger, and that somehow he’s seemingly captured all of Sirius’s attentions that he’s not giving Potter or the clinger ons who follow him around like mindless fools. Beyond that, Lupin and Regulus have only traded a hand full of words whenever their roles of prefects would force them to intermingle, and it’s always been punctuated by Lupin giving Regulus a witheringly cold look anytime they were in close proximity, which is admittedly impressive considering that half the time the sickly bastard looks like he’s about ready to keel over.

So no, Regulus doesn’t know much about him, but he’s heard the rumors. He knows that it’s basically an open secret between the Gryffindor class and selected friends. The fact that  his brother is probably shagging the mudblood, convincing Regulus that Sirius really has never given a toss about the decorum and standards befalling them as the only two Black males of their generation. And he hates his brother  so scathingly right then, hates his little munblood lover probably even more. 

And when he watches Lupin straying his gaze from the novel he was reading while that red haired Muggle born was resting her head in his lap, and Regulus saw the way both of their expressions went a peculiar sort of tender— well that’s the last straw, so he stands up in a huff— so unlike himself— and he cuts the story Mulciber was crowing on about, and he tells them he needs to complete a scroll for Slughorn.

And while he prowls away from the sight of his brother continuing to ruin everything, Regulus plunges a hand into his pocket, and crunches Bellatrix’s letter in his grasp, promises himself to write her back soon, and ignores the ache in his chest that’s only been growing larger since Sirius had left permanently.

~IV~

James’s always known.

Perhaps that’s an over reach, but it’s true enough. He’s known for years, on some level, that the thing between Sirius and Remus is something completely foreign to him. Something completely separate from how Sirius licks his face when James is over sleeping and he wants to be a general nuisance. Separate from how he and Remus have begun discussing anything and everything in the wee hours of the morning, with a spot of tea between them and a blanket on their legs, because Remus can’t sleep from the moon and James has never been able to sleep through the whole night without feeling guilty over it. He thinks it stemmed from when he was younger, when his parents were feeling sickly, and before they were gifted a house elf by a family friend who recognized that the elderly Potters needed just a bit more assistance. 

James never knew whether it was obvious to him because he’s always considered Sirius as his bastard brother since Christmas of first year, and that he’s always trying to make sure that Remus is all right after finding out just how impressively the bloke can keep secrets once Sirius figured out his furry little problem. So he’s not sure what others know, or even what Remus and Sirius  know of what’s happening between them, honestly, there have been so many almosts that James has picked up on over the years. And he still shutters thinking about the near total break that happened with the prank, still isn’t quite sure what had past between them to get Sirius and Remus  speaking with each other once more, but he does know that Remus staying with James, Sirius, and  Peter the past summer after Sirius escaping the twisted place he was suppose to call a home, is what helped indefinitely. And now, a year separate from the prank, things finally feel normal between them.

Well— Erm, not normal per se. Those idiots are still blustering and bumbling and bashfully avoiding one another when anything close to romantic comes up in a discussion or when their hands touch over the Great Hall table or whenever James makes a pointed remark when he catches one of them staring a bit too slack jawed at the other in the midst of something totally bloody innocuous in the eyes of a normal person— EG: Sirius gathering his hair— that’s nearly to the bottom of his neck now a days— into a small knot on the back of his head, or Remus sucking idly on a sugar quill while he’s revising. And sure, James has to deal with the kicks at his ankles, or a spare jinx if one of them is especially pissy, but Lily’s come to join him in the ribbing, so it kind of makes everything all right. Especially when she levels her beautiful, forrest green eyes with his own brown ones, and she actually looks sort of endeared.

Yeah— that’s a fucking amazing feeling all right, and it’s probably the memory of that happening only a few hours ago that has got James all jittery now, far past midnight. So with a tired sigh, he slides open the drapes of his fourposter, is ready to go downstairs for a kitchen raid if Remus isn’t awake— Though once he sets his glasses on, and blinks a few times over to get acclimated with the dark, he’s only a bit stunned to find the shapes of Remus and Sirius crowded on the former’s bed— and they’re really not much more than suggestions beneath the shadows, but it’s enough for James to see Sirius’s head bent low, resting it against the crook of  Moony’s neck and shoulder, while the shorter boy has got his arms wrapped around Sirius’s torso. And it’s nothing obscene, not really— it’s not like they’re nude or anything— but Sirius is shirtless, and Remus does have this blissed out expression painted over his features, that James would bet good money is the same one Sirius has got on if most of his face wasn’t covered by his hair.

And in another breath, Remus’s honey colored eyes flap open, widening exponentially when he catches sight of James, and wiggling around as if he wants to move away from Sirius completely, which is of course stunted when Sirius makes a low noise under his breath, and presses closer so that his mouth is quite literally right against Remus’s neck, and his arms tug him closer.

And James is definitely convinced that he’s the best mate any bloke could ask for when instead of chuckling at the obvious show of territorialism, he just shakes his head indulgently at them, mouthing an “About time plonker,” to Remus, who replies in kind with a hefty, two fingered salute.

This time James has to bite down to prevent his chuckle from spilling out.

“And here I was, about to offer you a snack from our dear house elves.” He whispers, hopefully quiet enough so that only Remus could hear.

“Oh, just bugger off,” Remus retorts, smiling with such mirth that James can’t even feign to be affronted over it, only follows the playful command and tries figuring out just how to give the ‘If you hurt him I’ll hurt you’ talk to the pair of them without it coming across insincerely. 

~+I~

Millie was bored until she saw them.

The only reason why Millie got this boring job in this beyond posh restaurant is because her folks reckon that she needs to learn some form of responsibility before university, and she hates it. The pay is absolute shite, and most of her coworkers are all levels of boring, and the patrons are not nearly entertaining enough to try and make up some secret back story of tumultuous affairs or secret agents from the MI6, or a royal from some country on the continent meeting their star-crossed lover.

It’s all just painfully ordinary, and she’s cursing her parents while she chomps on her gum, reading some stupid note by an ugly old fart who left her his number on the receipt. 

Scoffing while she bins it, Millie glances over to the newly occupied table in her section, heart immediately leaping once she gets a good look at the pair of blokes sitting down. 

The sandy haired one is definitely cute in that reserved way her best friend Claire would definitely be mad over— the guy who could read you poetry in French or Italian and then gently kisses the back of your hand. And that’s all and well, but Millie’s every attention is laser focussed on his mate, the one that looks like he can be bloody James Bond with those smoldering eyes and that ink black hair, and God, those cheekbones! Definitely one of those beautiful, Public school boys who’s born and bread by the patrician. And while she takes their orders, she tosses him her most flattering of grins and slips in her giggle that an ex boyfriend compared to silver bells, and is sure to flip her long, chestnut hair enough times so he’d notice, even if she’s pretty sure he’s either pissed or probably more than a bit stoned. (Truly, where the bloody hell would he come up with pumpkin juice? How horrid must that taste). 

Millie may or may not spend an unreasonable amount of time spying at them from where the cooks drop off the completed plates to be sent away. He’s just so bloody good looking, and she can’t believe this awful job has finally brought her such an amazing distraction, and the arse doesn’t even pay her much mind, leaving the ordering and the conversing to his fair haired friend.

Maybe he’s sensitive, she thinks to herself. Maybe he’s just a shy soul. And yes, that must be it! The poor, beautiful sod. She’s sure to make her intentions clear next time she thinks it’s appropriate to top off their waters, because she’s so very  gracious like that.

“Enjoying yourselves?” Millie asks in her most light hearted of cadences, filling up the shorter one’s glass but smiling fully and exclusively to the boy who looks like he should be starring in some sort of Brook’s Brothers advert.

“Ta,” the sandy haired boy says, sounding a bit amused at her dilemma, but it’s kind enough so Millie doesn’t feel brassed off over it. “Do you mind pointing me to the loo?”

“Oh of course!” She crows, suddenly ecstatic as she directs him, finally getting a chance to be alone with the model. Though when she turns her attention to him once the other one leaves to take a leak, she’s kind of confused how he’s staring after him with a glance she vividly remembers on the face of her ex whenever she’d peer back around to ensure he was watching her go— Though, if Millie’s being honest, the model somehow looks simultaneously eager to watch the back of him, but also already disheartened not to have him around in ways she doubts anyone she’s ever gone out with has ever exhibited. “He’s a nice chap,” she states, instead of marinating on the strangeness of this development.

The practical model starts, seems to have forgotten about her presence all together, but then he glances over towards her with those impossibly flattering, pale gray eyes, and he nods disinterestedly. And yeah, yikes. That is a total hit to Millie’s ego.

“Ahem,” she clears her throat, begins twisting her free hand into the material of her apron. “’S nice you guys came for dinner, you don’t see much friends considering how bloody expensive it is here, hah.”

Millie feels herself going absolutely scarlet at the impassive way he drags his gaze up and down her form before taking a swig of his Bellini. “He’s not my friend.”

“Oh,” Millie practically squeaks out, suddenly wonders if maybe he’s a tutor from his class or something? Maybe the model is just taking the cute one out to dinner as a thanks for helping him pass his A-levels? Maybe this is considered cheap in the circles that the model keeps.

“’S our one year anniversary actually,” he tells her, still in that methodical, blasé way of his. And oh. Oh wow! Suddenly everything is snapping into clarity.

The way the two boys had brushed the back of their hands before being seated, how model had trusted the other boy to order for him, how model never looked away from the cute one’s mouth or collarbones or hands as they spoke. How whenever she came around to ask if they needed anything else, it felt like she was intruding on more than just a couple of mates catching up.

Oh Jesus, she feels like such an idiot, and Millie tells the model just as much.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot! I didn’t even put it together.”

Remarkably, the model’s rigid posture goes a bit loose at her apology, and the corner of his thin lips quirk up into a grin. “’S fine, he didn’t want to make a fuss out of it, but yeah— Just feels good telling someone.”

Millie nods eagerly, she can’t understand exactly what he means, obviously not,  but she can definitely try to, and if it feels good for him to tell a random bird about something so important, then she’s more than happy to help. “Well the point stands, yeah? He seems like a good sort, you’re lucky to have found each other.”

The model’s grin goes elastic at that, and he looks actually approachable for the first time tonight. “I’m the luckiest bloke in the world that I get to be with him.”

Millie flushes at the intensity embedded into his statement, but thankfully doesn’t have to answer when she hears the sandy haired boy walking closer now, smiling so brightly that there’s a dimple popping up on the apple of his cheek that Millie’s only just noticed— The mirth is a good color on him, she reckons. Makes him look as gorgeous as those boys on the telly dramas her Mum is always gushing about, even his eyes turn more golden than light brown. “You pestering our waitress Padfoot?”

“You know I keep my devilish tongue for you and you alone Moonbeam,” the model—Padfoot cannot be his actual name for heaven’s sake— retorts.

“Lucky me,” the sandy haired boy says wryly as he takes a seat, and while Millie walks away— intending to get them a pudding that’s on the house to celebrate the milestone of their relationship— she peers back around only once and it’s enough to see the tips of their fingers kissing across the table, and their smiles looking like a secret language not meant for anyone else to read. 

.-

My Full Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #14

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13]

[AO3]

~POV Mori~

I woke up when it was still dark out. Only the faintest light came in my windows.

I hadn't done anything yesterday. Just laid down and rested for the first time in a long time. The doctor's were convinced I needed one more day of rest, but I knew I was already better. When was the last time I had just let my body rest like that when I wasn't sick? I couldn't remember. This peace was nice.

The quiet of sunrise was only broken by the faint sound of bird calls in the distance. I sat up and closed my eyes. I focused everything on my other senses. I couldn't hear the ocean easily from here. I had wanted to use the sounds of the waves to meditate, but I would just have to do without.

It had been a few days since I last checked in with myself and really focused inward. I could still feel them, all of the Black Rukh that had merged with me back in Balbadd. They were much calmer than before. And they felt like a part of me now, like I might be incomplete if they were suddenly gone. I knew each one from the dreams too. Their lives were mine and each also now knew my life as their own.

Going through all of their lives on the ship would have been painful even without being sick. These were angry souls and they did not welcome the inner peace I was offering easily, but a person's Rukh doesn't lie. After reading this world's truth through my memories they all calmed.

All of us lived lives of loss and poverty and trauma. That must have been another part of why we were able to fully merge in such a short time.

As Black Rukh they couldn't return to the Great Flow where the rest of their loved ones were, but they at least had each other within me.

It was a very strange feeling.

And along with their lives and Rukh, their magoi was also now mine. What had felt like a small pool now felt like a large lake. I had a lot more magoi at my disposal now that they were fully integrated with me.

The Great Bell range and I grounded myself in the present.

Only then did it occur to me that I was probably sick, and suffering from the influx of Rukh separately at the same time. It had been both all along. Whatever illness I had was worsened by my situation with the Rukh. I hadn't lost my magoi manipulation during it, but it was probably learning it ahead of time that had saved me. There's no way such a large amount of Rukh entering me wouldn't have made my body unstable.

Would the doctors understand if I explained it to them? I should ask Sinbad before saying something unnecessary.

The dim light from my windows called to me. I got out of my bed, put on my glasses, and sat on the sill of one them at the encouragement of the waves.

Like this, I could look down and see the Palace court yard. On the other side of the court yard were the Silver Scorpio (martial arts training), and Black Libra (libraries & schools) Towers, behind them to the left was the Red Cancer Tower (military) and fully to the left was the Purple Leo Tower where Sinbad lived. Since I was on a high floor I could easily see all of the towers of the Palace from my windows -all except the White Capricorn Tower where Ja'far does most of his work since that building was on the other side of this one.

It was so strange. Looking at all this made it real that I was really here. How many times had I reread or rewatched scenes wondering what it would feel like to be here?

I rested my head on the window frame as I watched the growing light from the sunrise.

The guards changed.

The sun was fully risen. Ja'far would be waking up Sinbad soon if he hadn't already.

Two people walked out of the Purple Leo Tower -a guard and a woman. She wasn't wearing a uniform. In fact she was wearing less than the citizens I saw the other day.

"Oh, right."

Sinbad has a call girl see to him after Ja'far wakes him up.

I had the 3rd fan book for the anime which contains a day-in-the-life for a bunch of the main characters. It was only in Japanese, but I had learned enough (and could look up what I didn't know) to at least read his schedule.

The direct translation was for a "temporary woman" which from what I've found is the Japanese term for a fem sex worker. I've seen some translations for Magi's extra material refer to them as "call girls" so that was the term I chose to use.

The franchise used the word "harem" in a bunch of places, but purposely didn't use it here. That combined with an omake of Sinbad having a nightmare about being married and having a harem made it clear that Sinbad did not have a harem; he had the whole red-light district of his country to choose from.

Hold on... That book wasn't supposed to reach my house until after I had Isekaied so how did I know it's contents? There were barely any scans or photos of pages online-

*Knock knock*

My thoughts

were cut off when breakfast arrived -with more medicine of course.

---

~POV Sinbad~

Nearly a week had passed since King Sinbad had arrived home. There was a lot to catch up on. As much as he wanted to finally relax after everything that happened in Balbadd he didn't really have the time for it. Even after catching up he would still have to prepare for his trip to the Kou Empire. And Ja'far wasn't letting him forget either responsibility.

None of this stopped him from having his slow mornings. He at least gave himself that little slice of heaven.

This was business as usual -at least it was supposed to be- but Sinbad couldn't shake a growing feeling that he couldn't name. It was making him unsettled. The waves didn't give him any answers and drinking hadn't made it go away. It felt similar to missing important.

He wasn't missing any paperwork. There had been an issue with one of their supply ships going missing, and another being delayed, but he had already decided how to proceed. He was definitely interested in the progress the Black Libra Tower was making with testing Mori's theories, but the experiments would take time and they had already scheduled a meeting for an update. The new guests were still settling in. Alibaba was a mess and Aladdin was only marginally better the last time he had visited, but Morgiana was fine and already training with Masrur regularly. According to the doctors reports, Mori would be better in another day or so, and the reports he got from the maids said she was resting every day after giving that partial scroll.

Maybe this was impatience. Aside from his paperwork, everything interesting was either done or waiting for the next step.

Sinbad often walked his country in the evening, but there was no reason he couldn't check on things now. He didn't have time to go for a walk at that moment, but he could spare the magoi needed to use Zepar and fly around the country using the bird he had possessed with the Djinn's power. This wouldn't be the first time he'd done this while working on paperwork.

The bird was sitting on a railing in the city center when Sinbad took over. From this spot he could make some quick rounds in the city and then maybe make a stop in the Black Libra Tower to get a sneak peak at what they had found out so far.

The same old gossip filled most of the streets. Some price complaints, who just had a child, how work was going...

"You're serious? A prophet?”

"My husband saw the scrolls she made from her visions with his own two eyes."

Now that was new gossip.

Sinbad had the bird land near by the two women.

"Oh? What was in them?"

"He said it was like reading secrets of the world."

"Really???"

"Mhmm." She nodded. "Not everyone believes it though so they are all working to test her writing."

"Didn't you just say she was brought in by our King? Do they really think he'd be fooled by some false prophet?"

"I said the same thing! And you know what my husband said? He said that they need to find proof even if they believe the Prophet because otherwise we won't be able to prove it to our allied countries."

"I guess that makes sense..."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Oh! I think I might know what she looks like!”

"What? How? You only learned about her just now."

"When King Sinbad came home, there was a girl on some magical flying cloth, remember? That has to have been the Prophet!"

"I think you're right!"

To two moved on to some other gossip and King had the bird fly towards the Palace. Listening to talk about his Beautiful Prophet reminded him of his mission to peek at what was happening in the Black Libra Tower. Being able to bypass the stairs and the gates made the journey much faster.

The Sun was already in the western side of the sky. Shadows were cast onto the court yard from the Black Libra Tower. The stone of the Green Sagittarius Tower was nearly blinding white from the direct light. Color flashed in the corner of his eye as the bird flew past the upper levels of the guest tower. Before his thoughts had fully registered the familiar shade of nearly black indigo, Sinbad was guiding the bird to investigate. He landed on the railing of one of the windows and looked at the young woman resting against that same window's frame.

Mori looked just as surprised to see a bird land right in front of her as he was to be there. Sinbad had purposely been avoiding using Zepar to spy on Mori since she somehow knew that he had eavesdropped on her before. It had been days since he last saw her, so when she was suddenly an option-

"Heh hehe"

Mori's chuckle and smile took his full attention. He didn't know what had made her laugh, but he hoped she'd do it again.

"Sir, are you aware you are a bird?” After the words passed her lips she was struck by a giggle fit.

Sinbad had no idea what she was thinking or why she had said that to a bird, but he was hearing her voice for the first time in nearly a week so he'd worry about figuring it out later.

When Mori finished laughing at her own joke she leaned her head to the side and watched him. Her hair shifted and another lock spilled over her shoulder. The sight brought attention to the low neckline of the dress she was wearing. If Sinbad was there in person he would have brushed her hair out of the way just to have an excuse to touch her.

"Did you miss me that much?" Her voice was soft and a bit playful. "You didn't have to use Zepar to visit me."

Mori knew it was him! Sinbad jolted and his head hit the back of his chair in his office. How could she tell? Only magicians could see magoi and Rukh to see the spell active on the bird.

"Sin, is something wrong?-” Ja'far had just entered the room to give his afternoon report.

King Sinbad raised a hand for him to be quiet and tapped Zepar's ring to explain the situation. He didn't want to talk and miss something Mori said or did.

The General's expression turned serious and nodded as he went quiet.

When Mori didn't get a response from the bird she added, "Are you surprised that I knew it was you?" Her smile was warm as the sun. "I have read your Fate many times, so I will always recognize you, my King."

Normally, the idea that someone could see through Zepar's magic would concern him, but this didn't. It strengthened his belief that Fate had guided Mori to him.

And the affectionate way she said "my King" at the end made him smile. The waves had moved like this a few times like the last time he had seen her in person, and when he learned she could also feel the waves. The Great Flow of the Rukh was guiding them to the Fate he could see, the one where she lived the rest of her life by his side.

Ja'far sighed. "Just let me know when I can give you my report."

Mori whipped her head towards the door to her room. "They're here early."

There were the sounds of people walking in the hallway, but no voices to denounce who, or their destination. All the same, Mori got up and walked to the door. She opened it before the doctors had a chance to knock.

"How did you...?" One of the doctors asked.

"I recognized the sound of your footsteps," was her answer.

"I see.... And how are you feeling today?"

Mori walked into her room, and spared a glance at the bird still watching her from the window. "I feel fine. Just like yesterday." She turned back towards the door and sat on the edge of her bed. "So can I finally leave this room?"

The doctors were understanding but they still were going to do a full check up first.

Even without the waves it was obvious that Mori was going to be marked as full health. Sinbad would prefer to go see her immediately and give her a tour of the Palace personally, but he was still a King with responsibilities. "Ja'far, Mori has just been declared healthy. What do you think of everyone having dinner together to get everyone better aquatinted?"

"I didn't hear anything about-” Ja'far started and then cut himself when he realized. "Were you just using Zepar to spy on her??"

"Of course not." Sinbad said with all of the confidence of the King he was. "I flew directly to her and she recognized me instantly. I wasn't spying at all."

"She recognized you??" Of course he'd be shocked.

King Sinbad laughed. "She did. Though she was surprised to see me."

"I bet she was surprised to suddenly see a bird in her room. What made you think to use Zepar instead of visiting her in person? You're already getting regular reports on her condition." Ja'far always acted as a buzz kill.

It didn't stop Sinbad from laughing at the situation before finally asking for that report he postponed earlier -conveniently avoiding answering Ja'far's question.

The magician in Mori's room was talking. "Would you be interested in visiting the Black Libra Tower with us? We can show you how the experiments are going. And if possible, would you be willing to answer some questions?"

That was an understandable request, but it could wear her out.

The Prophet was facing away from the windows so Sinbad couldn't see her expression. "I'd really like that actually." But he could hear the excitement growing in her voice.

"Let me get changed real quick." Mori disappeared behind her folding wall and emerged in the outfit he met her in.

Sinbad did not drop control of the bird, but he also didn't follow Mori out of her room. Instead he waited in the window sill until he saw her enter the courtyard and then had the bird fly to the Black Libra Tower.

---

As soon as he finished whatever last minute things Ja'far was about to add to his pile, Sinbad would go to the Black Libra Tower and surprise his Beautiful Prophet in person.

~POV Mori~

In the manga and in the anime the only areas shown of the Black Libra Tower were Yamuraiha's office/lab and one of the libraries. I was more than curious about the rest of the facilities.

The first room seemed to be a reception area and had a map of the tower. I only got to glance at the separations between the libraries, offices and class rooms before a tall and lanky magician walked up to us.

"Is this her??” Her short ponytail bounced as she looked between me and my guides.

Isa, the magician who had been taking care of me the past few days, introduced me. "This is Lady Mori, the Prophet!” He acted like he was showing off the coolest toy on the playground.

The tall woman got right up in my face. "I knew she had to be the Prophet! The Rukh don't normally move this way around people."

Before I got to respond she started rambling comments and questions that covered everything in maroon and peacock blue getting sponged across a cream canvas. I stepped back and Isa cut her off. "Lady Mori will be answering everyone's questions in time. We were just on our way to see Yamuraiha so I can show her how everything has been coming along. You are welcome to join us."

She definitely joined us. As did many others who spotted us or were called over by others in our procession.

We walked through a few library areas, and up a few flights of stairs. As we passed various rooms and areas I was told what or who would be inside, but I wouldn't remember any of the specifics until I had a chance to use the space and explore on my own. What did stick was that most of the classrooms were next to the libraries and the labs were near the offices.

Yamuraiha must have heard our group from down the hall because her head popped out from one of the rooms ahead of us. "What is going on out here??” Then she made eye contact with me. "It's you!!"

That made me smile. I fought back responding 'it's me!' like I would with my friends. "I'm Mori. I'm glad I'm finally getting the chance to meet you, Yamuraiha!” I stopped walking when I got 3 yards/meters away.

She immediately pulled her staff against her chest with both hands. Her shoulders tensed but she had an enthusiastic smile. "The pleasure is all mine!"

Yamuraiha was amazing, smart, and endearing. I really wanted to be friends with her.

I out stretched my hand to shake hers. "I'm really excited to work with you, and learn more about magic even though I'm not a magician."

"The feeling is mutual!” She took my hand more than matching my excitement. And when she released it said, "Since you're here, would you like to see what we've been working on from the scrolls you gave us?"

"Yes please!”

---

The lab she lead us to was a little down the hall. All of my scrolls were spread out on one table and a bunch of notes and different materials were on an other.

Yamuraiha pulled out parchment that had a complicated magic circle written on it. "We can't do much yet, and it still takes a catalyst and many magicians at once to control the amount of magoi safely but our alchemy magic has made a breakthrough from your writing."

She asked a few of the magicians that came with me to join her. They pointed their staffs and wands at the magic cycle. A large crystal in the room started glowing, and the Rukh lit up the space from within the circle. Specks were pulled out of the pile of ingredients nearby -dirt, scraps paper, a small potted plant- and gathered at the center of the circle. The light got too bright for me to look straight at it and when it faded there was a small dark grey cube in the middle of the circle. It looked like a die with no markings.

Yam explained. "After reading about 'atoms' and 'bonds' in your scrolls it was like finding the missing piece. It will still be a long time before we can perfect the process, and we still can't make anything bigger than this yet, but soon we will be able to make anything we want!"

((In the future I intend to: reference more old memes, describe more of my experience with synesthesia, and explain more basic history and science. SO you all have been warned lol))

I had to respond; I couldn't just continue staring in awe. When I tried to answer I ended up gasping since had forgotten to breathe. I chuckled at my own shock as well as the situation. I looked up at them. "You're all amazing to be able to develop this already from the little I wrote!" I looked back at the stone. "I knew I wrote the keys to Yunan's signature alchemy magic in those scrolls, but to think you've already gotten this far with it -its amazing."

With this -when developed farther- we could make certain materials without having to worry about the pollution, and break things down easily so we won't have to worry about garbage piling up everywhere.

"Did you say Yunan? The Magi, Yunan?" Yamuraiha looked at me with wide eyes.

"Yes." It was my turn to explain. "Yunan is able to use alchemy magic like this on a grand scale. In the Fates I read he will have reason to visit Sindria in about 2 years. He creates a cabin and food in the middle of the Palace court yard so he has somewhere comfortable to stay."

The bird in the window ruffled it's feathers.

"Yunan explains the basic concept of how that magic works when asked, and since I know the science of the physical world I know the details to what he was talking about." My smile widened. "I hope my notes were easy to understand. Please let me know if you have any questions."

[jtrbluv]

we’re not really strangers | pjm

summary: We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones. Ready?

or alternatively,

your furtive infatuation with your lifelong best friend proves to be hard to suppress when there’s (1) alcohol involved and (2) a card game that forces you to reveal more about yourself than you could ever wish for. in short, no, you are not ready.

[friends to lovers!au]

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, crack, slight angst

word count: 8.7k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, two emotionally constipated best friend, PG-15

A/N: hi, i’ve been really excited about this fic for a while, and i’m genuinely so happy that i finally finished it! the card game is in fact real and i got inspired for this fic after i had played the game with a couple of friends myself. AHEM! @koushiningg​ ! we both cried and i do highly recommend to play it! but anyways, i hope you enjoy this fic because i had a lot of fun writing it! sending love always... jumi out!

EDIT: @bangtans-peaceful-piegon​ i’d also like to thank the lovely pidge for beta reading this 4 me as well! PIDGE I FUCKIN LOB U!!! 

PLAYLIST ; SEQUEL

♤ ♤ ♤

Not once in your life did you ever imagine a simple card game to become the bane of your existence. 

Yet Park Jimin was able to prove you wrong. 

Let’s play ‘We’re Not Really Strangers’ he said. It’ll be fun, he said.

You stare down at the card in front of you—everything else in your periphery was blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart. 

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the room who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you. 

Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage. 

The white card with crimson red writing made sure to leave an impact, making you feel the most ridiculed you’ve felt all night which says a lot—leaving your mind in a complete frenzy although you refused to let it be known. 

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on your body, especially your heart. 

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in. 

But then you remember that you aren’t that pathetic. Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now. Up to the point where you could probably hear the crickets chirping outside his apartment, except the only sound that was filling your ears was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being. 

Your face may be gradually morphing the same shade of crimson as the writing inscribed onto the card itself, and you may have a whole line of sweat encompassing your hairline. But it’s just a stupid little card game. You could say any stupid little answer and the stupid not-so-little boy wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care. So you shouldn’t care. 

When did you become so pathetic after all?

-one hour and a half ago-

“Why can’t we just play Mario Kart or Uno? This sounds like there’s too much thinking involved,” you whine, leaning against the side of his couch. 

“One, we always play that. And two, I always lose,” he grumbles, plopping down onto the floor.

Jimin rests his back on the frame of the couch as he sits in the small gap made by the large piece of furniture and the coffee table that resided in front of it. You decide to sit on the floor as well, around an arm’s length away from your friend. He places the red box down onto the table—opening the cap and revealing the contents with a mischievous glint in his irises. 

Within the box was a deck of cards, separated into three piles with two pencils on either side. Knowing Jimin, you assumed this game had an ulterior motive you were unaware of, and by the title of the game, you could already tell that you weren’t going to like it very much. 

“How do you even play this?” You ask, causing him to look up in return.

He bites his lip, taking a couple seconds to ponder on your question, “I don’t know it’s my first-time playing too,” he shrugs. “I was watching Jin and Namjoon playing it a couple of weeks ago and for some reason, Jungkook started crying.”

“He is a sap,” you hum in agreement, thinking in retrospect of Jungkook crying from various situations such as Iron Man dying or that one time Jin farted on his pillow and he got pink eye for a whole week. 

“The biggest,” he concurs, “Hm, there’s no instructions in here.” He mutters while shuffling through the cards. 

“Why don’t you just search it up?” You suggest, sliding the box to yourself as he nods and fishes his phone out of his pocket. 

While holding the box in the palm of your hand, you scan the contents—turning it around in your palm until your eyes narrow in on the words printed at the bottom. 

“Oh, it says something here.”

His head perks up. “Hm? What is it?”

You clear your throat at the sight of the long explanation. “We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones.” You internally grimace at the words. The game hasn’t even started and you already had a bad feeling about it all. “Ready?” You say through clenched teeth, purposely keeping your head hung low. 

Jimin’s lips quirk up into a cheerful grin, unaware of the piercing stare you were giving him. “Okay, I think I got it,” he declares, eyes zeroed in on his phone once more, ”There’s three levels—perception, connection, and reflection. Each level we pass, the deeper and more thought-provoking the questions get. Helping us make a deeper connection and get to know each other better yadda yadda yadda.”

You nod in understanding, sliding the box of cards back towards him—forcing the grimace that kept threatening to plaster itself onto your face into a small, smug smile. 

“The first thing we have to do,” he begins, taking out two pencils and two small pieces of paper, “is write messages to each other. We won’t be able to open these until after we leave.” He explains, sliding a pencil and paper towards you.

“Wow, very cryptic,” you tut, biting down on your bottom lip before more distasteful remarks decided to leave your lips. He doesn’t catch your reaction or your comment though because he’s already got his pencil in his hand, scribbling vigorously onto the tiny piece of paper. Knowing him it could very well be nonsensical insults and doodles, or a whole essay about your friendship and what you mean to him. Most likely ludicrous and full of thought, either way, just like him. 

Without much thought, you lazily jot onto the paper.

know that i love u, u fucker <3 

-y/n

The sound of your pencil falling against the table causes him to look up at you, eyes knit together in confusion. 

“You’re done already?”

You chuckle, “I mean, I wasn’t going to write an essay. You already know how I feel about you. But it seems like you’re writing one though.”

His eyes narrow in on you—giving you an indiscernible look before letting out a small ‘hmph’ and lowering his focus back down to his pencil and paper. You dismiss his enigmatic behavior—deciding to mindlessly scroll on your phone while waiting for him to finish his MLA formatted essay.

Two minutes pass and you hear the sound of his pencil being placed onto the table. “Done.”

“You added citations too right?”

He scoffs, “No, but i’ll gladly add some if you’d like.” 

You roll your eyes for what seems like the umpteenth time in the last five minutes, “Just start the goddamn game.”

He takes the first stack of cards and shuffles them between his hands. “In all three levels, there are wild cards or basically dares we have to complete. And for each level, we get two ‘dig deeper’ cards. Pretty self-explanatory. So this is the perception level. It’s basically designed for first encounters and strangers, and we’re gonna be asking each other questions about ourselves.”

Your eyes widen at the whole confidentiality of it all. “Are we going through all of those cards?” You blurt out, staring at what seemed to be like 50 cards in his hands. 

“Oh no,” he quickly refutes, “It would take hours. We’ll just do like 12 cards each.”

“Alright,” you huff, letting out a small breath of relief. 

“Yay! Okay I’ll go first,” he beams, his toothy smile evident as he places the deck in between the two of you while grabbing a card from the top, “What do you think my name is?”

You snort at the conspicuousness of the question, “Jamal.”

He immediately guffaws at your response, throwing his head back in addition. “Hey, I don’t mind that.”

“Are all of the questions like this?” You say in between hushed laughter. 

“Nah,” he shakes his head as you pick up another card from the deck, “now you ask me.”

“Alright, what’s the first thing you noticed about me?” You ask, slightly taken aback by the sudden earnestness of the question, causing you to become genuinely curious about what his answer was going to be.

He hums, taking a second to think it through. “I think your smile and your laugh. It’s always been really contagious since the day I met you.” He admits, almost matter-of-factly as if it was something you should’ve known by now, yet you did not. 

Your heart nearly disintegrates into a puddle of goop right then and there, but you manage to conceal your reaction, “Aw, you actually like me.” You tease. 

He scoffs with a playful grin on his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself. You still cackle like a damn hyena.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “At least I don’t laugh at every single of Jin’s lame ass jokes.”

He gasps, jaw slack open due to your all too accurate truthbomb, “I did not ask to be attacked in my own residence.”

“Well, what are you gonna do about it then.”

He snorts. “Holy shit, do you remember when I banged my head on the corner of his coffee table.” 

“How could I forget? I had the picture of the bump on your head as my lockscreen for like a month.” You reminisce, resisting the urge to pull up the picture from your phone.

“Yeah, and that same month I bought and rotated between the same 10 hats.”

“Hey! It genuinely didn’t look as bad as you thought.”

He whips his head towards you, giving you a piercing glare that made you want to redact your statement immediately. 

He grins from ear to ear, the little shit, amused at the reaction he was able to garner from you. 

“Aha!” He suddenly guffaws, shooting out of the floor and prancing towards his fridge. He then takes out three bottles of lychee-flavored soju and makes his way back towards the table. 

Jimin being the borderline alcoholic he is, it doesn’t come as a surprise to you. Not even after he takes another trip back to the fridge to grab yet another three bottles of soju, mango-flavored to be exact. He has probably one of the stupidest grins etched onto his face as he held onto the bottles—meanwhile you were more concerned about the possibility of having to clean up a bunch of broken glass and wasted soju. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time. 

“And do you plan on drinking all of this by yourself?” you say, gesturing towards the bottles.

“I know my liver is strong, but I don’t buy this shit just to enjoy alone,” he retorts. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head as you click your tongue, “Playing this while tipsy just sounds ten times better don’t you think?.”

You shrug—although you had a strong hunch for what he was insinuating, “I mean I guess.”

He starts to pour soju into his shot glass, stopping just before it hits the brim. He slides the glass to you and you take it into your hand, eyeing the sparkling fluid and thinking about the way the contents would do its little all-too-familiar dance on your tongue. 

“Well, you know what they say,” he says, pouring a glass for himself, “drunk words are sober thoughts,” he finishes while dragging out the last word—downing the first shot in one quick swig. You follow his lead soon thereafter, refusing to let your mind linger on what he had just said and the viable likelihood of you spewing out the words that could just make or break your longstanding friendship and lead to a lifetime of regret. 

Obviously, everything’s going fine and dandy for you.

-

The next 20 minutes consisted of a plethora of superficial questions that would vary from:

“What's your favorite song lyric you can think of off the top of your head?”

Your head shoots up as if the lightbulb in your head just flashed on. “Easy. Shawty’s like a melody in my head that i cant keep out got me singing like-“

He lunges over to clap a hand over your mouth before you could sing the next line. “Na na na na no Y/N. Please stop.”

Or something along the lines of:

“What character do you think I'd play in a movie?” He asks with a smug smile. 

“You’d be the second male lead that everyone secretly wants to end up with the main character because you act all sweet and kind and and genuinely cares about her but instead she chooses the other guy because something about him draws her in and it was her ‘gut instinct’ or some shit like that.”

“So I would get second male lead syndrome?” He reiterates. 

“Yes.” 

He sets his shot glass back down with a glower, clearly taken aback. “That is the biggest insult I’ve ever gotten in my entire life.”

You also couldn’t forget about:

“Oh, this one says to create a secret handshake.”

“No.” You deadpan.

“And why not?”

“Your pinky‘s the size of a vienna sausa—“ 

He smacks you square in the cheek with a pillow before you could finish your sentence. You don’t even fight back because your mind was so slow to process what he had just done. The fact that you only slept for 5 hours last night didn’t help whatsoever. Your evident lack of energy causes him to jab his finger into your side, causing a loud shriek—your fight or flight response starts kicking in as you grab the back of his neck and slam his face against the fabric of the couch cushion. 

-

Soju was never able to make the two of you full on drunk—buzzed of course, but not enough for complete incoherency. And so you both down a bottle each before finishing the first round. 

“I’m surprised we didn’t get any wild cards that round,” he says while resting his head on the couch.

You purse your lips, “You spoke too soon.” 

His eyes flash open as he cranes his neck in an attempt to see the card. “Wait actually?”

You can feel your insides churn as you read the words in front of you, and you were sure that it wasn’t the alcohol talking. “Write down the three most important things to you in a relationship for 30 seconds and then compare.”

Jimin reaches over to grab two pieces of paper and pencils while unlocking his phone to find the timer app, “Okay, I’ll put a timer on for 30 seconds starting… now.”

And so the internal monologue in your head begins. 

Three most important things… only three? That’s not anywhere near enough to suffice. Wait, what would the first one even be… oh yeah, trust. Trust is very much important yes, yes, yes. What else? Um, communication? Yes of course, that’s essential. Okay, what would the last one be? 

You sneak a glance over at Jimin. His cheek is squished against the palm of his hand, making his cheek fat (an area in which he lacked in) more prominent and the pink, plush flesh of his lips appear even bigger than they already were. 

The ceiling light emitted a faint, ambient glow—the lights and shadows hitting all the slopes and curves of his face. You never understood how someone could be so effortlessly stunning. Even the mess atop his head that’s supposed to be his hair looks purposely tousled—the ebony strands sticking up in multiple directions was framing his temples and contrasted with the honey-like hues of his skin. 

Unlike the glow that radiated from the lights of the worn-down apartment and the radiance of whatever was beyond the glass of the window behind him, everything about him seemed to glow much brighter.

“Hello, earth to Y/N, your 30 seconds is up.” He interrupts pointedly, waving a hand in front of your face.

Blinking rapidly, you shake your head as well as all preceding thoughts that definitely weren’t consuming your mind a few seconds ago, “Sorry w-what?”

He laughs at your disoriented state, “Did you finish writing your three things?”

No, I wrote your name as number 3. “Yeah, I did. You can go first though.”

He nods with a small smile. “Oh, okay then let’s see. First, I put trust. I don’t know, I think everyone puts that to be honest. After that, I put communication. I feel like that’s just a given y’know. Another thing I feel like most people would say.”

You utter a timid “mhm” under your breath albeit zoning out and being unaware of what he was saying. Opportunely, you managed to scribble out his name with the mere seconds that had passed and now you were tapping the lead point of the pencil against the paper, littering the page with a bunch of grey, little dots—incognizant to the fact that he had his eyes focused on you the whole time. 

“I didn’t really know what to put last. Three things isn’t anywhere near enough in my opinion. But at the last second, I wrote down vulnerability,” he continues.

You look up upon hearing the last word. “Oh wow, that’s good. I didn’t even think about that.”

He chuckles unabashedly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Right? I just figured. At first, I thought it would go in the same category as trust but then I thought about it more. Yeah, you can trust someone and someone can trust you, but to what extent does that all go to. Where does it start? And where does it even end? You need to be able to open up to the person I feel like. So I guess trust and vulnerability go hand in hand.”

Impressed with his words, you decide to chime in.  “Wouldn’t communication go along with it too?”

“Hm?”

You place your pencil down. “You would open up to each other by means of communication, becoming more vulnerable, and then overall gaining more trust in the end.”

His brows raise at your sudden revelation, “Wait, you’re so right, did you just wax poetic and full cycle all that?.”

You smile, “I mean I guess,” you respond humbly, “ it does make sense though, does it not?”

He hums in agreement while downing another shot, “It applies to us, right?”

You force out a chuckle, but it comes out a lot more faux-sounding than you would’ve liked. “Haha, yeah I guess it does, doesn’t it.” Once again, starting to dive deeper into the abyss of pitiful hope and unrequitedness. 

“Describe your perfect day.” He suddenly interjects.

You quirk a brow. “Didn’t I just go?”

“It’s okay, I’ll go for this one too.”

“Alright,” you say, foot tapping on the wooden floor as you look past him and out into the glass window of his living room, “well, I wouldn’t have school of course. And I think it would all depend on how I feel that day. If I was feeling particularly lazy, the day would probably consist of me binge-watching shows in bed while eating a shitton of carbs. And the other case would probably be galavanting around the city or going to an amusement park with friends.”

Jimin listens intently and smiles as you speak, causing you to avoid his stare before pigment threatened to rush to your cheeks, “Both of those scenarios sound really nice. I better be included too.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to hide the grin creeping up your cheeks, “We’ll see.”

He groans, standing up from his spot on the floor and falling onto his couch instead, “My asscheeks hurt.”

Your face contorts into a look of disgust, “And you want me to do what with that information?”

Scoffing lightly, he leans back into the cushions and tilts his head back, “It was a declaration, not a cry for help.”

“Yeah, and it’s the bony ass for me.”

His head perks up. “It’s having a flatter ass than their guy best friend for me.”

Gulping down the sad but unequivocal truth, “It’s kissing up to every teacher’s ass for me.”

His eyes narrow in pure chagrin, “It’s the crying on your teacher’s doorstep for them to round your grade for me.”

“It’s splitting your pants on orientation day for me.”

“Fuck you, people would pay to see this ass! It’s getting a concussion from falling down the main hall stairs for me.”

“For fuck’s sake, I told you that they waxed the floors that day!” You snap back.

“Okay, and who said it was a good idea to walk down three flights of stairs while trying to cram for a midterm? Yeah, exactly no one.” He says incisively, giving you an even bigger urge to push him off of the couch, yet you digress. 

“This could go on for hours.” You heave out.

“Is that the sound of someone giving up I’m hearing?”

“Is that the sound of a midget I’m hearing?”

“But I’m taller than you?!” He screeches petulantly, smacking your shoulder. You burst out into a fit of laughter—toppling onto the wooden floor with pure malice. 

Gasping for air, you attempt to stifle your laughter and regain your breath. “Wow, I’m on a roll today! I deserve another shot.”

He shakes his head, his anger quelling at the sight of your giddiness. “Remind me to not let you drink and play this game.”

You turn over from your side to lay on your back. “This will be the first and the last time I play this game with you.” You say almost immediately—the words involuntarily slipping from your mouth before you could stop it. 

He sinks in his spot on the couch, brows knitting at your comment. “Why?”

Sobriety crashes into you like a colossal wave —your irritation dissipates almost immediately. The exaggerated tone your voice begins to register through your head—as well as the fact that you sounded a lot more disapproving than you intended. 

Groaning at your hindered ability to think and process properly, you attempt to clear the air, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. We just... practically know everything about each other I guess. What else is there to know?”

He hums. “You sure about that?”

What? “Wait what?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles awkwardly, “next question.”

The straightforwardness of the next question causes you to quirk a brow, “How are you, really?”

His eyes widen. “Well, that’s a deep one, isn’t it?”

You smile. “A little.” 

He sighs, a small grin lacing his features, “Hm, how am I,” he affirms, adjusting himself in his spot on the couch, “I feel content with where I am right now, I guess. Things can always be better, but at the same time they could be worse too.”

Your number one defense mechanism as of late has been to constantly tease and make jokes at the poor guy—essentially using him as your own mental punching bag. He went along with it out of the assumption that it was all caused by your stress from school while you knew the true origins of your behavior. 

You smile at his optimism, "Hey, that's always good to hear."

He chuckles, shifting his position on the couch so he could face you directly, "I don't know, maybe it's the new sense of freedom. Or all the amazing people I've gotten to meet and the opportunities that are offered here. Or the fact that I'm still going to the same school as my best friend after all this damn time."

"Chim, don't get sappy on me man." You warn him while pouting exaggeratedly— slumping onto the frame of the couch while he takes a strand of your hair in between his fingers. You bask in the moment, your eyes shutting close. 

"Hey, I'm just being honest! For some reason, it all makes up for the impending student debt and draining lectures and professors that have a superiority complex as fat as their paycheck."

"Too bad their paycheck still isn't as fat as your ass."

An audible gasp coming from the only other person in the room causes your eyes to flutter open.

"Aw," he coos, ruffling the hair atop of your head, "that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all night. Admit it, you love me."

Out of instinct, you opt to stick your tongue at him instead of replying with a witty comeback. You turn away from him before mumbling to yourself, "More than you'll ever know buddy."

"What was that?"

Shit. "Nothing. Next question!"

-

After twenty questions and a whopping 10 empty soju bottles later, you are quite literally about to implode.

Your eyes stare down at the card in front of you—everything that surrounds it is blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart.

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the universe who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you. Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage.

The imminent headache was starting to spread towards your temples and you practically felt like you could feel your brain shifting inside your head at this point. Although you felt groggy, you were certain that your heart was at a rate that is way faster than it should be. And sitting on your legs has caused them to lose all feeling from the tips of your toes all the way up to your kneecaps. One attempt at standing and you would come crashing to the floor in a heartbeat.

The white card with crimson red writing made sure to leave an impact, making you feel the most ridiculed you’ve felt all night which says a lot—leaving your mind in a complete frenzy although you refused to let it be known.

To say you were mad was an understatement. Out of all the times throughout the entirety of this hour and a half that you were playing this game, he decided that now would be the best time to use his 'dig deeper' card.

There it was.

Admit something.

"Okay fine, I was the one who stuck pink hair dye in your shampoo last semester."

"Y/N, did you really think I didn't know? C’mon I know there’s something else in there.”

You scowl, brows furrowing, “Why would I keep something from you?”

“Why are you getting so defensive over this?”

"What the hell is there for me to admit to you?" You snap back in exasperation, the harsh tone of your voice rendering the two of you speechless. 

He averts his gaze, closing his eyes while inhaling a deep sigh. "Ever since we started college, why have you been treating me so differently?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, stumped. Yet you refuse to wither out of this. 

 "I– are you mad?"

"No. Of course not," he quickly digresses, softening his gaze, "I just noticed after all this time that you've only been acting differently towards me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong Jimin. You never have."

His eyes narrow, giving you yet another indecipherable look, "I'm using my 'dig deeper' card." He deadpans.

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long, to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on you in a variety of different ways.

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in. But then you assured yourself that you haven't reached that level of patheticism yet.

Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now —practically anyone else could detect was the crickets chirping outside his apartment, yet the only sound that was filling your eardrums was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being.

This was it. There was no point in trying to weasel yourself out of this situation. If you tried, your more than futile attempt could very well end up causing more problems than if you were to go with the latter.

So instead of constantly wracking your brain with witty banter and deceitful ways to gaslight your feelings for the man sitting in front of you, you come to terms with the fact that your time had run out. You internally commend yourself for putting up a good fight, as well as internally become accosted at how immature you were at handling the whole situation.

You sharply inhale through your nose, peering at the man sitting in front of you as his eyes meet your own, "Alright."

He offers you a small yet empathetic smile in return, giving you the tiniest sliver of reassurance. His hand pats the couch cushion next to him, motioning for you to sit down next to him.

You push yourself up from the floor, immediately propping a leg onto the couch to avoid your numb limbs to be the cause of your embarrassment.

You inhale slowly through your nose and out through your mouth. "This is going to sound really absurd. Like more than absurd. Possibly borderline hysterical." No Y/N, why would you say that?

He interjects, placing a hand on your forearm. "I'm beginning to think you're becoming borderline hysterical," he lets out a small chuckle, "slow down Y/N. One thought at a time."

Your jaw is still slack open due to your previous rambling. "I'm sorry, I just—I don't think I've ever felt this anxious… around you at least."

He bites his lip, eyes trailing away from yours as he tries to think of a way to aid you, "Will it help if I turn around?

"Maybe." You reply timidly, smiling to yourself as his back came into view.

“It’ll be pretty funny if we don’t remember this in the morning,” you start off with, “I shouldn’t be saying that either I’m sorry. Stupid alcohol.”

He snickers at your drunken state, it was adorable. “Pretend I’m not here Y/N. Like you’re talking to a wall.” He advises, back still turned. 

You nod although he can’t see you. “Okay. Well, hi Mr. Wall. I’ve been keeping a secret from my best friend for as long as I’ve known him and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve suppressed it all this time in hopes that it would eventually fade away, and it almost did. No really, it actually almost did. But now it’s back again and all the same feelings came, but like freaking twofold. No, tenfold. No, like a hundred fucking fold.”

Jimin tries excruciatingly hard to stifle his laughter, cupping a hand to his mouth so he wouldn’t move and distract you.

“I’m literally in love with my freaking best friend when I know he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever. If he did, we wouldn’t be where we are right now because I am so shitty at hiding my feelings that I am more than certain that I’ve let the truth slip a couple of times.” You say all in one breath.

He slowly detaches his hand from his mouth, eyebrows raising in disbelief in the words you had just said. His body urges him to turn around. Yet you continue to think out loud. So he digresses. 

“Towards the end of high school, I think my feelings started to become more dormant because I had become more concerned over finishing high school and transitioning into college. I was content and I convinced myself that my feelings were fleeting for once.” You begin with, allowing whatever thoughts that you consumed your mind to spill all out for Mr. Wall to hear. 

You sigh, taking a pillow from his couch and squeezing onto it for dear life. “That was until we ended up getting into our top picks and going to the same school. I couldn’t believe it. My stupid head tried to convince me that life had always just paired the two of us up together for some reason. And that maybe, just maybe I had a chance. But whatever I guess. I don’t know.”

A notification causes your eyes to trail to your phone. Really, Professor La, this is not a good time to tell me to finish my research paper. You swipe at the notification, revealing your lock screen—a photo of you and Jimin at an amusement park back at your hometown, sporting matching university hoodies with bright smiles on your faces that were captured mid-laughter.

Setting your phone down, you lean into the couch—letting your head fall into the cushions as your eyelids slowly start to droop shut. “What also didn’t help is how college life just seems to suit him perfectly. He just always looks so happy now. Like yeah, he’s always been a social butterfly. Yet in addition to that he has top notch grades. He charms professors. For fuck’s sake the Dean treats him like a son. His passion, his laughter, his love, his happiness. It’s always been so infectious. But college just made the effect he has on people grow even stronger. I-,” you stammer, pausing breathlessly, “it just looks like he truly belongs here. Like college was just made for him.”

He sits there in a complete stupor—still trying to process all the words that he had just heard. His body is itching to turn around, take you into his arms, whisper soft nothings into your ear. Anythings. Everything. He never wanted you to feel anxious about his feelings for you ever again.  

“Mr. Wall, that was a lot, I’m sorry. But I’m really… really tired.” You utter quietly, a long yawn escaping your lips. You fall asleep. 

Ten seconds pass until Jimin sneaks a glance over his shoulder, scanning your body as he notices your shut eyes and timid grip on his pillow. 

“Y/N?”

You’re unresponsive. 

He grins at the sight. Getting up from his seat, he makes his way toward you—slowly prying the pillow from your grasp as you carefully slides his hands under your body and picks you up from the couch. 

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder as he carries you to his bedroom. You are very much still asleep, yet you always had the habit of needing something to hold onto while you were unconscious. 

Kicking the sheets aside, he makes room for you to lie down as he gently places you onto his bed. He quickly scurries to the other side, slipping into the covers himself as he lays down beside you. 

The sudden contact causes you to shift in your sleep—suddenly wrapping an arm around his torso. He lays there, completely stunned at your actions and begins to heavily debate whether he should give into his desires or not. 

The internal conflict lasts about two seconds before he turns to his side—placing his free hand on the small of your back and pulling you into his chest, leaving a small pocket of space in between your two bodies. 

Unknowingly, you close the gap almost immediately—nestling your head into the crook of his neck as your arm that was lazily slung over his torso starts to tighten its hold around his body. 

His arm slings over your unconscious form, his hands making his way to your back as he basks in the foreign feeling, being this close in proximity to you. It was different. Yet it almost felt like it was where he belonged. And he was scared because he didn’t want it to end. 

While gently placing his chin on the top of your head, he begins to stroke your hair as fatigue starts to wash over him as well. “Things will make sense soon Y/N, I swear.”

He retracts, craning his neck in an attempt to see your sleeping form. His attempt proves to be futile when an indecipherable groan leaves your lips—brows knitting slightly and lips curling downward from the sudden lack of warmth. 

His soft laughter fills the room as he obliges—carefully pressing a small kiss to your forehead before reverting back to his original position. 

“For now, just know that I love you too.”

-

The intolerable throbbing sensation in your temples caused you to stir in your sleep.

The only events you could recall from last night was being at Jimin’s apartment, playing that stupid card game, and downing the most soju you’ve ever had in one sitting.

It only occurs to you that you’re wrapped in someone’s arms when you open your eyes and the only thing in your periphery is a firm chest, steadily heaving each time they take a breath.

Your legs were messily entangled with theirs—arms slung around each other’s torsos as you felt a strange yet dense weight on the top of your head.

Carefully, you try to pry yourself from their grasp albeit your haphazard state of mind. You pull back ever so slightly, making sure not to wake them up in the process, discovering that the excess weight was actually their chin that had been resting on top of your head. Their fingers were still twined in your hair as you pulled back, making you freeze in your spot. Curious, you tilt your head, peering upwards and catching a glimpse of their face.

The boy is undoubtedly still asleep. Eyes shut and ample lips slightly parted. Your timid movement, to your luck, which hadn’t phased him in the slightest, as he was unperceptive and nearly immobile at this point. 

If it weren't for your abhorrent headache and the even more abhorrent symptoms that had rooted from your hangover, it would be an understatement to say that you would be freaking out right about now.  In reality,

You'd be in a complete state of manic.

Because of the fact that your body was paying for the despicable amount of alcohol you had decided to consume the night before, an influx of any intense emotion would cause your body to exacerbate itself even more. And the last thing you needed was to puke all over the poor guy after sleeping together for the first time.

While you were physically experiencing withdrawals, your mind felt slightly inebriated nonetheless. You weren't quite sure if it was from last night's affluence of liquor or the way everything's starting to come back to you. And the longer your eyes linger on the boy's face, the clearer everything starts to become. From the foolish banter to your childish outbursts leading up to your intoxicated yet conscientious confession.

You left your heart all out for him to witness last night, and now the only thing you could do is wait for a response.

Taking a deep sigh, you retreat back to his body—deciding not to ponder any longer on the matter and wait until you had felt physically capable of doing so. 

-

Steaming hot streams of water splash against his back. He stands under the shower head while massaging soap into his hair, replaying the events that had happened last night on loop. 

The words that left your mouth were engraved into his mind as they involuntarily kept replaying over and over again—particularly your inebriated confession, which kept garnering the same reaction of both hope and frustration within him. 

The solution should be simple. In reality it is, yet he still felt so internally scattered. 

“—he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever...”

That was the singular line that he just couldn’t wrap his head around. There was never a moment where he would hesitate to drop everything he was doing to be there for you and make sure you were okay. 

Yes, he knew that you two were best friends and that it was natural. But what best friend drives across town at 2am because you had the stomach flu and your parents were out of town. Keep in mind it was his mom’s birthday that day. 

What best friend ditches their prom date when yours had stood you up. Or coax the drama teacher into giving you the lead in the school play because he saw the ways your eyes glimmered when you saw the words ‘High School Musical’. And damn, weren’t you justthe greatest Gabriella he’s ever seen.

Little did you know that in reality, he always wanted you to be the Gabriella to his Troy, and not Chad. Yet you seemed to have believed the latter all along. 

But in the end, what the hell kind of best friend remains oblivious to the fact that for years, past exes have consistently broken up with him for the same reason.

“Your heart belongs to someone else.”

Or alternatively,

“I’m not the right person for you.”

Straight A’s don’t mean shit when no teacher has ever taught him how to realize that he was irrevocably in love with his best friend, and that she had always, almost candidly, felt the same way.

He shuts his eyes tightly, hands aggressively running through his soaked hair as he comes to a conclusion. 

Being strangers could never be an option. Being friends, or moreso, best friends was fine. But that’s it. It was just fine. It was normalcy. It has been for years.

And that just wasn’t going to cut it for him anymore.

-

Your arm traces along the fabric of the bedsheets, alerting you that there was a void of space and lack of warmth from the other side of the bed. Your eyes spring open to see that there was no one laying beside you. 

A long yawn escapes your lips as you stretch your limbs, body sprawling all over the bed before selfishly tugging the sheets all to yourself. 

Soft hissing from which you assume was coming from his shower was confirmed to be true when your eyes spot the closed bathroom door and the small beam of light that was emitting from it. 

A small, folded piece of paper that was taking up the space of where his head was resting was where your eyes shift to next. 

y/n <3

You knit your brows together, knowing that it was most likely put there strategically rather than a piece of trash that had slipped out of his pocket.

It was addressed to you after all and so you grab it while making a futile attempt to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Your throbbing headache and churning insides had significantly died down. Regardless of your recovery time you internally make a promise to yourself to never get this wasted ever again. The chances of you sticking to it?  Highly debatable considering the current situation you’re in. 

Blinking rapidly, you finally are able to decipher whatever is written onto the paper. And it says:

hi y/n, i can already tell by the looks that you’re giving me that you already despise this game and im sorry. all i wanna say is that by the time you read this, i hope that we remain close as ever even though what i plan on saying tonight could obliterate all of that. i wanted to play this game bc i know we’re both hiding stuff from each other and it’s about time we get it out. at least for me. whatever happens, i love you. always will. 

- chim :)

EDIT: for fuck’s sake y/n i’m FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU TOO I WAS SUPPOSED TO CONFESS TO U FIRST LOSER NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND T-T

-

“Finally awake?” You hear a familiar voice call out. He walks out of the bathroom, fully clothed (to your dismay) while drying his hair with a towel, eyes immediately softening as they connect with yours. 

You swallow down your nerves, “Yeah, I’ve been.”

He walks over to the edge of the bed, eyes shifting to the piece of paper in your hand before reverting his focus back to your face, “What are you reading there?” 

“I don’t know,” you huff, feigning ignorance, “why don’t you tell me.”

A soft chortle leaves his lips as he throws the towel to the side, smiling as wide as ever as he jumps onto the vacant spot on his bed right next to you.

Propping himself up, he sits against the headboard, letting out a content sigh before looking down at you once more. “Come here.” He says, reaching his arms out in hopes that you’d fill the idle gap.

And you do, shaking the sheets off of your body as you place yourself in his arms, freshly revelling in the comfort. You wrap your arms snugly around his waist, letting your head rest on his chest while he clutches onto you tightly. 

“I’m sorry for pushing the subject so hard onto you last night.” He starts off with, “I guess I just never fathomed the fact that you could return the feeling, and I was too stubborn to even admit it to you in the first place.” He expresses while stroking your back,  “I didn’t mean to confront you so harshly, it’s unlike me, and I’m really sorry about it Y/N.”

“Do you think I’m mad about that Jimin?” You inquire, just barely above a whisper.

He pulls back slightly, peering down at you, “Are you?”

“Of course not. I should be the one apologizing anyways for being even more stubborn and resorting to such childish ways.” You disclose whilst mentally beating yourself up.

“Hey, there’s no use in beating ourselves up over it. Look where we are now.” 

“Where exactly are we Jimin?” You inquire timidly, head still resting on his chest. 

His fingers brush over the base of your chin, gently tilting your head up until your eyes found his. 

“Y/N, it’s honestly hard for me to formulate the words but all I know is that I think I’m in love with you. And I think I have been for a long time, no scratch that, I have been for a long time,” he says all in one breath, making you smile at how high-strung he was acting. 

The grin remains plastered onto your face, “I’m not drunk still right because did I just hear you say that you’ve been in love with me?”

“Y/N…” he whines, jutting out his bottom lip as he drags out the last syllable of your name.

You can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Go on please.” 

He bites his lip, “I honestly had a whole speech prepared in the shower but I forgot all of it.”

“It’s alright, I barely remember half the stuff I spewed out last night,” you chortle.

He chuckles, “Well, if you were wondering, you’re cute as fuck when you’re piss drunk.”

The compliment makes your breath hitch in your throat—your heart starting to pick up speed dangerously quick.

A few seconds pass, allowing you to slightly gain back some of your composure, “Why did you um– I mean– when do you think you fell in love with me?” You stutter. 

“I was actually trying to figure that out too,” he starts, “in the shower. Well, this is going to sound dumb,” he admits, sharply exhaling out of his nose, “But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time.”

“I think so… but what about it?”

He nods. “I still remember that night so vividly for some reason,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “There were haunted houses all over the park. And they were all different themes. And I think the first one we went into together was—”

“The clown one.” You deadpan. 

“Yeah!” He beams, laughing at the way you shudder after your words, “Anyways, you were walking behind me with your hands on my shoulders, but you had a razor grip and I thought my arms were going to fall off, so I made you walk next to me instead. We had our arms interlocked and you were gripping onto me so closely and you had your head buried in my shoulder the whole time.” He explains, the smile never ceasing to leave his lips.

You don’t take his eyes off of him—smiling sweetly as he explains the retrospective moment that you never knew had held so much significance to him.

“All of a sudden, you grabbed my hand, and honestly, I think that was the scariest part of the whole experience,” he admits, chuckling softly. 

“But then I intertwined fingers with you. And I liked it. Thinking about it now, I probably loved it. It felt almost borderline euphoric. Like as if I was riding a high, and when we detached hands, it felt like there was just something missing. And I guess I never really put the pieces together because it just became a normal thing after that. And when our skinship kept evolving from there, I just kept dismissing it over and over again. Like as if that feeling was a normal thing to happen between friends, because I genuinely thought it was. Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.” He finishes, giving you a close-mouthed smile while he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

Astounded was an understatement. You couldn’t believe that you both had been suppressing these feelings for so long. Yet somehow, this whole confession didn’t seem out of place or time, it was as if everything that had happened beforehand had led up to this very moment. 

“Wow, Jimin I– I don’t know what to say.” You reply.

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to say anything Y/N. I’m sorry for making you wait for so long, after all.”

You interject, “Please don’t say sorry, I think we were definitely both in the wrong here.”

He smiles, except this time his eyes crinkle up all the way, “Alright, but can you at least let me make it up to you?”

“I’m listening.” You jokingly reply.

“Let’s go on a date,” he declares brazenly, “but tonight, after we’ve recovered from our hangovers and what not.”

The corners of your lips upturn so high that your cheekbones sting, “Jimin, I’d love to–”

“Ah, wait! I’m not done.” He cuts you off, head inching forward, leaning in so close that you could feel his breath tickle your ear and the heat rushing up to your cheeks. 

“And at the very end of the night, I’ll make certain that you won’t be able to walk normally by tomorrow.” He whispers into your ear— voice low and full of lust.

Shivers run through your body as it feels like all the wind had just gotten knocked out of you. Yeah, this was definitely worth the wait.

-

-

-

MASTERLIST ; SEQUEL

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 37

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Fuck the Canon: Happy Endings For Everyone

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36

There is no tea.

Not only is there no tea, but the Emperor’s small private study, located just beyond his personal chambers, is distinctly lacking in any accommodations necessary to serve or consume tea.

Ordinarily, WangJi would find himself irritated, even by such a harmless deception. After five days spent in the Immortal Mountain, however, he finds that he has become more patient. Perhaps not with others, but certainly with the Emperor, whose careless attitude and playful nature seem to conceal a much more complex character, one that WangJi has grown to respect.

The Lan Sect does not listen to gossip, but their new lodgings in the Jade Sword Palace make gossip impossible to avoid. Wei WuXian had lingered by WangJi’s side long past midnight, sunrise only hours away by the time they had finally parted. Yet, great many things seem to have happened since then, each one significant enough to shake the Immortal Mountain to its roots.

Before noontime tea, the Young Master of the Jin Sect had seen his betrothal annulled, the Jiang Sect had fallen out of favor, Sect Leader Nie had been given a title, and the Council seems to hover on the verge of being dissolved.  

WangJi cannot begin to guess what all of these events mean, separate or together, but he knows that Wei WuXian could not have possibly had a sufficient amount of sleep. He also knows that the world of court schemes and maneuverings, as distasteful as he finds it to be, is an inevitable reality of Wei WuXian’s existence. A part of him is even slightly curious, tentatively attempting to forge a connection between these seemingly unconnected events. Another part of him feels pity, that Wei WuXian cannot begin his day without some sort of upheaval.  

Even now, standing by the desk, wrapped in the heavy, intricate layers of the Imperial dragon robes, the Emperor is all exhaustion and tension. Less than a dozen hours have passed since they had seen each other last; WangJi had spent those hours in the peace and silence of the Imperial guest chambers. Wei WuXian looks as if he had spent them on the battleground, fighting for his life.

Still, when he sees WangJi, his face tranforms.

“Lan Zhan.”

WangJi nods in response. He is not sure when he had become fond of the way Wei WuXian says his name, but he can no longer deny the inevitable elation following on its heels. Each time, his name comes with an accompanying smile, and each time, that smile is for him alone.

“I hope you were not expecting tea,” Wei WuXian says ruefully.

WangJi does not dignify that with a response. One must adjust their expectations when faced with an Emperor who runs barefoot over the rooftops, and becomes unreasonably excited over rabbits.

“Uh, right,” Wei WuXian says, “there is something I need you to see.”

The bookcase behind the desk is filled to bursting. Perhaps, if it were only used to hold books, there would be plenty of space, and little to no chaos. But Wei WuXian seems to have filled the shelves with anything that could fit, and many things that could not, creating a precarious mess of objects that could topple at the smallest disturbance. There are numerous jade figurines of all sizes, small pots, boxes and ink stones, a few odd shapes that resemble children’s toys, books and scrolls crammed in between the objects, all with no sense or order.

It is a surprise when Wei WuXian manages to pull out three books and a flat box hiding behind them, without knocking anything to the ground. WangJi realizes that he has shifted to stand on his toes, fully expecting to have to provide assistance, or perhaps even protection from any wayward object that may come flying off the shelf to cause potential injury. No such thing occurs, however, and he places his heels back down, feeling silly for his overabundance of caution.

The flat box looks plain and light. Inside, it holds a single piece of paper, although it is immediately obvious that the paper is an Imperial Order, the Emperor’s stamp bright and bold, and difficult to miss.

WangJi does not expect Wei WuXian to simply offer the paper for perusal, without ceremony, and without any hint as to what the Order holds.

He is even more confused once he realizes that the paper is actually a declaration of succession. In the event of Wei WuXian’s death, the throne is to pass to--

He blinks. The Imperial Order is not long, for there is not much to the actual succession except naming the heir. Still, WangJi reads it again, just to be certain that he has not read the name in error.

He has not.

Well.

While he is reading, Wei WuXian is fidgeting. The dragon robes are not designed for such impatient movement, and WangJi resists the urge to grab him by the shoulders, and tell him to stop plucking at the golden thread on his sleeves. The robe probably costs more than thirty villages are capable of producing in a year.

He offers the paper back.

“I do not understand.”

“Which part?” Wei WuXian says slowly, and WangJi blinks at him.

Is there more than one part to the succession? No, he has read it twice.

“I do not understand why I need to know this,” WangJi clarifies.

“Oh,” Wei WuXian says, smiling again, but it is a nervous smile, as jittery as his hands, “This-- it is important. The-- line of succession. The person I intend to marry should know that the heir has already been chosen.”

WangJi narrows his eyes. He feels as if he had missed a part of their conversation.

His mind inevitably turns to the rumors that had flown rampant in the palace that same morning; the new title granted to the Nie Sect Leader, the dissolution of the Young Master Jin’s betrothal, and the possible dissolution of the Council.

Does-- Wei WuXian mean to marry Jin ZiXuan? It is a preposterous idea. Absolutely ridiculous.

But even so, WangJi suddenly finds that Jin ZiXuan cannot be allowed to live. WangJi will challenge him to a fight, then remove each and every one of his limbs, starting with his head. This should not be difficult to accomplish.

“You are angry,” Wei WuXian says, “I should have-- perhaps I should not have begun with the line of succession. I am not good at--“ he waves his hand, as if the motion is somehow supposed to make his words less incoherent.

He looks agitated and unhappy, and WangJi wants to help, but he is not sure how.

“You want to marry,” he says, trying to establish some logical narrative.

“Yes,” Wei WuXian says, “I want to marry. And before you disagree, I am aware that five days is an extremely limited amount of time to truly get to know another person. I have already gotten a lecture about this from A-Sang. And I have already gotten a lecture from your uncle, who can be extremely rude while remaining polite, a skill I admire, but do not want to confront again. Not if I can help it. And I-- I know life in the Immortal Mountain is probably not what you had in mind if-- if you had marriage in mind. Before today. But I think-- if you are willing to give it a chance, I could make you happy. I would like to try. To make you happy.”

There is a lag in WangJi’s understanding, as each sentence needs to be rearranged in his own mind, just so he can comprehend its meaning. Still, even with the lag, it takes him an abominably long time to fully grasp what Wei WuXian is saying.

Once he does, he finds himself shocked into stillness.

“Are you--“ Wei WuXian looks as if he means to move closer, than stops himself at the last moment, “You look-- more angry now. Than before. I understand that this is not an ideal proposal, what with the-- lack of gifts and ceremony and everything else, but--“

He sighs, apparently forgetting that his hair is neatly arranged, because his fingers make a mess of it in moments.

“An offer of marriage should not make you angry, Lan Zhan. I thought we-- does the idea of it bother you that much?”

WangJi needs to speak. Wei WuXian is capable of drawing thousands of incorrect conclusions before WangJi can formulate a single sentence, and WangJi needs to prevent this from happening, as soon as possible. But what is he supposed to say?

Clarify. This is always a good strategy, especially with Wei WuXian.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” WangJi says carefully, fully expecting Wei WuXian to laugh and deny it.

He believes that he had made his peace with the fact that the Emperor really likes him, whatever that means, when coming from a Divine Ruler. But marriage is-- something else entirely.

Even saying it out loud sounds ridiculous.

“Yes!” Wei WuXian exclaims, “Yes, I am asking you to marry me.”

“Why?” WangJi blurts out, incredulous.

“Why?” Wei WuXian repeats, the dumfounded expression on his face a perfect reflection of WangJi’s own feelings, “wh-- what do you mean, why? Because I fell in love with you. Why else would I marry someone?”

“You--“ WangJi’s throat is completely dry, and seems to have shrank into nothingness.

It is difficult to breathe, let alone form words.

This is utterly ridiculous. The most ridiculous thing WangJi has even heard, seen, or experienced, in his entire life.

And yet, he wants to hear it again. He wants Wei WuXian to say it again. The rush he had felt at those words cannot be described. It is obliterating.

Wei WuXian inches closer, his posture careful, “I still cannot tell when you are just angry, or so furious that you might try and kill me, so-- do not try and kill me? I should have probably led with the declaration of love, huh? I can try again. Lan Zhan, I am in love with you. I would really like it if you would marry me, and become the Emperor Consort. Your uncle has already given permission, and the Council is about to do so as well, or Empire will no longer have a Council. The throne already has an heir, so the succession is nothing to worry about. And since I cannot imagine sharing my life with anyone else, I can swear to take no other spouse, as long as we are both alive in the world. Is that better? Did--“

WangJi does not plan to move.

He does not plan anything. The chaos of thoughts and emotions rushing through his mind can hardly be called thinking, let alone planning. Therefore, he is astonished to find himself acting so brashly. But Wei WuXian does not waste a single moment with something so banal as surprise.

His arms immediately wrap around WangJi’s shoulders, as if they belong there. There is a faint, lingering taste of pears and honey on his lips. His mouth is soft, his breaths hot and fast, his heartbeat a forceful thunder against WangJi’s chest. The exquisite texture of the Imperial dragon robe under his hands has nothing on the actual shape of Wei WuXian’s waist. WangJi can feel the ridges of his spine through the material, enticing but also fragile, and raked with barely perceptible tremors.

Wei WuXian smiles against his mouth, then laughs, his lips pressing a quick kiss to the tip of WangJi’s nose.

“Is that a yes?” he says, “Please tell me that means yes.”

WangJi is not yet capable of forming words. An extremely advantageous hindrance, because he cannot simply accept an offer of marriage, regardless of his feelings.

The bright smile on Wei WuXian’s face begins to fade, and WangJi feels panic, that he cannot explain himself quickly and succinctly, the way the situation demands.

“Lan Zhan?”

“I cannot accept,” WangJi says.

Wei WuXian blinks at him, then shifts slightly, as if to pull away. WangJi refuses to release him, his arms wrapping more securely around the silk-clad waist, fingers clutching handfuls of delicate material.

Perhaps he does so with more strength and urgency than necessary, because Wei WuXian stumbles, catching himself against WangJi’s chest.

“I want to accept,” he clarifies, “but I cannot. I must speak to uncle first.”

“Oh,” Wei WuXian says, “That-- but he-- I have already spoken to your uncle.”

“You have spoken to many people,” WangJi points out, “Everyone whose opinion you care to hear. Other than myself.”

Wei WuXian huffs, his restless fingers now plucking at the thread of WangJi’s robes instead of his own. WangJi would grab his hands to prevent it, but this would mean releasing his hold, and he does not think he is capable of doing so, at least not yet.

“I should be allowed to do the same,” WangJi says, “You must give me time.”

Wei WuXian’s fingers have now found their way to the collar of WangJi’s robes, and the brush of them against the skin of his neck is extremely distracting. The logical part of his brain insists that this is an inappropriate way to have a serious conversation. A marriage, especially one that would make him the Emperor Consort to the Divine Ruler of the Shan Empire is perhaps the most serious conversation that can possibly be conceived.

But Wei WuXian’s hair smells like pears, sweet and heavy, and he keeps biting his already reddened lip. The other part of WangJi’s brain, the one that does not care for logic or propriety, insists that he should stop speaking and kiss him again, regardless of the seriousness of the conversation.

Lan Zhan, I am in love with you.

His arms tighten of their own volition, and Wei WuXian huffs out a laugh. It is a small laugh however, and there is and nervous edge to it, carrying over into his voice.

“How much time? Because-- what if-- what if you think about it, and then-- decide that you do not want to marry me?”

“Then, I suppose you will have to marry Nie HuaiSang,” WangJi deadpans.

Wei WuXian splutters for a few moments, the expression on his face rapidly shifting from shock to displeasure to pure exasperation. Considering how many times Wei WuXian has managed to exasperate him in turn, WangJi does not feel bad.

“Do not joke,” Wei WuXian says, “I am serious. Your uncle had given permission, but he does not like me, and he will tell you all the reasons why marrying me is a terrible--“

“Wei Ying,” WangJi says, effectively cutting off the flow of words, “I want to marry you. I will not change my mind. But you must give me time.”

He is utterly unprepared for Wei WuXian’s bright smile, the warm glow of delight that washes over his face, the tiny crinkles in the corners of his eyes. He is even less prepared to be kissed again, but he is more than willing, Wei WuXian’s mouth eagerly searching for his own.  

They should have spent the past five days kissing. Any moment that WangJi had not been kissing Wei WuXian now feels an unacceptable waste of time, one he has every intention to remedy. Although Wei WuXian seems as invested in this plan as he is, he cannot seem to help smiling into the kiss, his lips often darting to press to WangJi’s cheek, his chin, the side of his nose. It is sweet and silly, his restless excitement, and WangJi is now certain that Wei WuXian had been right.

He will be more than capable of making WangJi happy.

[bbhyeoliskooks]

Can you do a Beomgyu Imagine where you try to break up with him cause he keeps ditching plans with you to hang out with his friends and he begs you for a second chance and doesn't leave until you agree?

ᓍृ∗੭ᐝ 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐃𝐨 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 ᓍृ∗੭ᐝ

You find that it’s best if the two of you break up.

You find that it’s best if the two of you break up.

*·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.**·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.**·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.*

Pairing: Beomgyu x Reader (female)

Genre: 3 cups of angst, but the 4 cups of fluff overwhelms it in the end !!

Warnings: a cheesy and cute ending, cursing 

Song: Best Part

(Yo, even if this seems like a lot of angst... you need to read to the end !! It’ll be all worth it, I promise. Also, I’m so sorry to the anon who requested this that it took long... I didn’t expect it to, so I hope it’ll all be good in the end! Also, unedited due to school !!)

*·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.**·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.**·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.*

For heck’s sake, where did you go wrong?

Where or what did you go wrong in your relationship?

You don’t remember doing anything destructive that would damage your relationship with Beomgyu, so why did he keep ditching you for those friends with his?

Every day he would arrive home late, his newly dyed blonde hair tangled in a mess as if had been doing something extensive for the whole day. He would place his jacket you gifted him last year on the tall chair beside your bed while you asked him how is day went. Only doing that would snap something in him, believing that you were being a pest. 

You got used to it, more or less.

On nights where you would actually beg him for cuddles or a little bit of attention, he would push you off to talk to his friends on the phone. Being nosy, you would try to listen to what they were saying, but Beomgyu would whisper quietly before going to the bathroom. You wanted to go there with him, perhaps pretend to use the toilet, but he would only shoo you away to go to the one downstairs. If you remembered correctly, the longest one was until three in the morning though you weren’t counting. 

You checked the electric bills the next morning, and the one for his phone was off the charts compared to normal. Maybe he had to do a favor for them, but it was a constant cycle where he would ignore you almost every day just to "help” his friends.

Not being able to anything but watch your heart slowly but surely break, you picked up a few clues that could possibly help you in this mess.  

First was the ever growing curiosity that worried you, but he would only push you off since it really wasn’t your business. Each time he would glare at you as if you had done something wrong, and the part that frustrated you the most was that he was adamant on not telling you! Then was the fleeting glances he would send you when he checked his phone for messages. They would usually come during the time where you two had a date inside, so that just extremely brought down the romantic atmosphere you put up.

Third, but not the last was that he’d get angry at you when you snooped a little bit on his phone as he took a lengthy shower. This happened on the other day, specifically just a week ago. You could understand him since it was his privacy, but he was receiving a few texts from someone named Mira. There were no emoticons or emojis at the end of her contact but when you called for him to pick it up he rushed towards you, his lips tightly painted in a line. There was this mean snarl on his face when he aggressively grasped it from you, telling you to screw off.

That night you cried alone, nose dripping with snot and pathetically lingering as you waited for your boyfriend to come back and say sorry.

It must’ve been worry or something of the sort if you were acting like this. You weren’t jealous since you knew you could trust him, but why was he being suspicious? He never kept any secret from you, telling you right away because he wanted at least one person to know. 

This kept going for a few weeks already so, quickly you got frustrated. Wasn’t he your boyfriend? Definitely not his friend’s, and you were his girlfriend. Trust was vital but with the time he kept losing to talk to his other friends, you couldn’t bring up the issue. There was nothing else you could do but feel your strong relationship crumble little by little each time he avoided you. 

So... for the last time, where did you go wrong?

*·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.**·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.**·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.*

“Hey, Gyu? Do you want to get ice cream today?” You tugged a little on his soft, winter seasoned sweater as he sent you a small grin. You noticed right away that it was not genuine, but you ignored it in hopes that he wouldn’t say something rude about it.

Well, at least he smiled at you now! Maybe he was going to say yes for today! You specifically checked his schedule for an answer yesterday, so you hoped that he could spend time with you and only you. You even pulled out your puppy dog eyes today, so it was going to work!

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I want to hang out with my friends today. I hope you can understand.”

He put on his heavy jacket, not caring to say goodbye to you. He seemed too anxious to leave, running to the front door. Little did he know that he took your broken heart with him, purposefully forgetting to kiss you on the cheek as a goodbye. You hid your frustrated tears well this time. 

You opened the door shortly after he left to see him excitedly get into his friends’ car, but you noticed that there was a woman in the front seat. You had never seen her before, who could she be?

You internally slapped yourself on the forehead, becoming frustrated at yourself for thinking too deep about this. But the fact that he had forgot about an important date weighed on your mind, and you concealed your feelings hoping that he would do something sweet for you later. 

Even in melancholy situations like this, he never failed to call you his princess... not to mention, that it was your third anniversary too.

*·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.**·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.**·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.*

Weeks had gone by, and he still kept this up. The long phone calls, the glares, especially the sudden disappearing whenever both of you had a date- it was safe to say that you were drained from it. 

You came to the conclusion that he didn’t love you the same way anymore. He couldn’t when he kept pushing you away from his life, but what was the cause? When did he stop seeing you like that? Were you too boring for someone like him?

There were too many what ifs and questions that kept repeating over and over in your head which caused a pounding headache in your head. You felt a little faint, although forcing yourself to do the laundry which had been laying there for a while now. 

You strolled tiredly to the room where Beomgyu was scrolling and texting on his phone. Of course, he was... you rolled your eyes, putting in some effort to have a sing-song voice in front of him. 

“Hey, could you give me your shirt? It’ll go with the laundry I’ll do tonight.” 

“Um, sure. I could do it, if you’d like!” 

Well, that was disgustingly sweet for him to offer! So now he was going to pretend that he loves you, huh? You snarled at him, grimacing at how innocent and pure his eyes were when he glanced up at you from his device. “No, Gyu. I’ll do it myself; just leave me alone.”

Beomgyu gulped nervously at your cold, snappy tone. Something must’ve been bothering you, but he didn’t want to say anything in fear that it would annoy you even more. Instead, he threw the shirt he was currently wearing towards you, to which you caught with ease. You muttered a thank you under your breath while he went back to texting his friend.

Almost fifteen minutes passed by when you separated all the clothes since you were too preoccupied with your thoughts. Your eyes landed on his shirt beside you. It was a bit dirty with a few speckles of brown on the side, but you figured it must’ve been his friends pranking him like they did every once in a while.

You grabbed the shirt on its side, inspecting it closely in the black of the room. There was a prominent spot on the sleeve, and you squinted your eyes to see it. Once you realized what it was, you dropped the shirt smack dab on the floor in repugnance. 

It was a lipstick stain, hell it was a fucking rouge lipstick stain!

Hiding your face in your hands then threading your fingers through your hair was enough to show that you were frustrated. He was being unfaithful to you, and it was right under your nose! You rubbed the tear that had already fallen out of you right eye. This was it. This was the evidence that you had been searching for, for a long time.

Jumping to conclusions wasn’t the best but... certainly you could because he had been avoiding you this whole time. With the way he was acting lately, it was no doubt that he had probably lost interest in you. Of course you felt guilty that you suspected him of cheating with you, but this- this just took the cake. It was the icing on the top, telling you that hell, he didn’t love you anymore.

He was cheating on you with another woman. For how long now? You didn’t want to know, trying to save a bit of blissful ignorance from the happy scenarios you made up in your head every night before you went to sleep although he was right next to you. So close, but still so far away was a good way to put it.

The fancy perfume that wasn’t your own proved it all, as well as the lipstick stain on the side of his shirt’s sleeve. 

Straightaway, you sprinted into the room, bumping into the closet door from how fast you were running. Your cold hands quivered while you gathered a few clothes from the hangers. Beomgyu sleepily walked in, rubbing his eyes at the sudden brightness from the light of the room.

“Princess...? Is there something wrong?” Hearing his voice was enough for you to dash out of that condensed room. 

Crap! You totally forgot to be quiet when he was sound asleep. There was no time to worry about that though, as you snatched your phone on the drawer beside. Your boyfriend furrowed his eyebrows at your hastiness, perplexed at what you were doing when it was the middle of the night. He grabbed your quivering arms while you struggled to get the suitcase under the bed that you two shared.

A suitcase? What would you need that for? Unless you were leaving... all of the fatigue that dragged him down simply disappeared when he noticed that you were putting more and more of your possessions in. 

“Y/N? Y/N, what are you doing?!” 

“Leaving, Beomgyu!”

“Stop it! Why are you leaving?”

“Because... because- you already know! Stop pretending that you don’t want me to leave!”

A mocking scoff was permitted from his mouth, and he tapped on your shoulder several times to get your attention. You weren’t being serious, right? 

“Y/N! You need to listen! I don’t fucking want you to leave!”

You continued to ignore him, shoving whatever things you could fit in that suitcase. “That’s your fault, not mine! Don’t expect me to stay with you when you ruined us!”

He ruined the two of you? You were pulling on his leg, he was sure of it. There was nothing that he did to hurt your feelings, if he remembered accurately! He searched his memory, but nothing turned up. “What are you saying?”

He waited for you to answer him, but you only threw your phone into the back of your pockets ignoring him like he did to you for weeks. Rolling his eyes at how strange you were being, he snatched involuntarily at your hands that was weak against his will. 

“Stop putting more clothes into that damn thing and talk to me!”

“And what for?! Talk about our breakup? Because we’re over- if you haven’t got the memo.”

If you had said that when he was wide awake, he would be on his feet flinging you on the bed so that you would talk it out like adults... not in that way though!

“O-our breakup?! We aren’t breaking up! You can’t do that!” Those were the only things he could say in his hazy mind, willing to put up even a weak fight so he wouldn’t have the love of his life leave him for good. 

“Watch me, then! You know that I can, and I will! You can’t stop me from-” he instantly wrapped his arms around you when he comprehended what you had said. You can’t leave him! He was just about to do something for you, you couldn’t leave now when things were going his way for the first time!

He inhaled the familiar scent of your shampoo that you applied just earlier today when your relationship seemed perfect. To Beomgyu, of course, not knowing of the pain he unintentionally put you through. Still he went on, tears of agony trickling against the both of his cheeks. He was having a difficult time breathing through his nose and mouth, clearly in disbelief that you were actually going to leave the door of his heart. 

“Princess... please. Please, don’t leave me. You promised you wouldn’t, so please just don’t leave me.”

“Beomgyu, stop it. I-I said,” you harshly scratched against his arms, desperate to leave the embrace that used to have you in euphoria. Used to.

“I’m leaving! I was so stupid for always staying with you when you called me a pest every single fucking day! I don’t want to be with someone I love if they can’t even give me what I deserve!” Finally you pushed yourself out of his grasp, backing up into the wall so he wouldn’t pull a manipulative move like that again. He can’t just say that when he knew he was breaking your heart for the other slut he was seeing!

The fact flew past his head, and he just held on even tighter to you in fear that he was going to lose you. “I don��t understand. Why do you need to leave? Did you suddenly stop loving me? Tell me! You know that we’re absolutely perfect for each other, and that’s the way it should be.”

“We were, Beomgyu. We were perfect until you cheated on me.”

“Cheated on you?! You think I would cheat on you?! Wow, that says a lot about your trust with me.”

“Can you really blame me though? These past few months gives the whole package away, not even a damn hint. And then the repulsive perfume that was leaking off your shirt for sure isn’t mine, there’s nothing to say. It’s so obvious you’re spending time with another woman you love... while I’m here waiting in the wee hours of the night for you to come back.”

“Y/N, I-” “you what? You’re sorry? Sorry isn’t enough to make me stay.”

With one harsh push away, you grabbed your suitcase ready to leave. The front door was just right there, so you rushed to open the doorknob. He couldn’t see you like this when you were about to break down! You promised long ago to yourself that he wouldn’t see you cry, and you planned to keep it unlike him and his promise to love you forever.

When you were just a footstep away from unlocking the door, you heard a crescendoing yell from your ex. 

“No, listen!”

He ripped the bag from your hands, all of the clothes that you had managed to pack falling out. Mistaken and shocked that he had arrived home early, you easily forgot to zip it up. You went to grab them smack dab against the floor, but he had grabbed your hand tightly so that you weren’t able to go away from him for the last time. 

You hissed at his seemingly icy touch. He really had the audacity to do things like this when he hurt you in the first place! “Why the fuck are you ordering me to do when you’re cheating?”

Beomgyu shook his head back and forth, searching for the answer on the wall as if it were there to tell you what he had been doing. “Y/N... please understand; that’s not it.”

“Then what is it? Explain the shit that you’ve done to me this past month! It’s crystal clear that you’ve stopped loving me a long time ago, and I can’t do anything about it! So, what did I do wrong?! Please, do tell me! I don’t want my last memory of you to be in vain-” before you could end what you were going to say, he smashed his face against yours in desperation, kissing you so you could be quiet. He was planning for it to be one that caught you off guard for a little while, but that didn’t happen since he was too caught up in what was happening to realize that he still had things to say. 

You responded back to his kiss eagerly, submitting to the warm lips that pressed passionately against your own. It had been so long since he had done something like this, you couldn’t get enough when he only brought you deeper. A couple of seconds had passed when the two of you had to gasp for air. He reluctantly pulled away, smirking a little bit just to tease you when you turned red at the embarrassment of him knowing you loved his kisses. 

“That was the only way to make you shut up, princess. Consider listening to me, and I’ll tell you the truth.”

He took a deep breath of air, the pace of his breathing becoming quicker when he tried to speak. You looked away- anywhere from his twinkling eyes, feeling extremely disappointed in yourself for getting affectionate with him once again. The train of thoughts that reminded you over and over again that he was a cheater was shattered when he gently tucked a hair strand behind your eyes, afterwards brushing his thumb against your cheek. 

“I’ve been ditching you to go to my friends because I wanted to surprise you. I thought that it would be a short and sweet month of preparation since they kept helping me, but some things got in the way. I guess the stress got to me, and I yelled at you. I’m sorry...”

Oh no... your heart dropped to your stomach, horror only an understatement at how rude you were being. Immediately, you had to apologize for being such a dumb idiot for not trusting in him. He was being so kind to you while you accused him for being with another woman. You felt terrible, now knowing that he only wanted to make you happy. That was until he placed a blissful kiss on your hand, the edges of your lips becoming a small curve from how truthful he was being. 

“I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, so I asked one of their girlfriends to help me with one of these things.” You tilted your head, a bit puzzled at his statement. “Like what?”

“Just close your eyes for a second.” He booped the tip of your nose lovingly, and you glared at him to hurry up and stop teasing you. “I don’t see your point-” he quietly chuckled at your endearing stubbornness. “Just do it, please?”

You heard the shuffling of his clothes, growing confused each second. Once he told you to open your arms, you found him kneeling in front of you, his eyes shiny and pure from the tears that had fallen down. Even in the dim light of the room, you could see that he was smiling softly. 

When your eyes roamed farther down even more, landing on the luminous diamond perched in his hand, you raised in eyebrow in confusion.

Wait, was that a ring...? 

Its band was golden and shimmering overwhelming the darkness surrounded the two of you. It was the middle of the night when you decided to leave him, but you couldn’t when he suddenly pulled that beautiful thing out! There was a diamond in the middle, reflecting many bright colors off the moon when he pointed it towards you.

You gasped in shock. Where could’ve he had the time to buy something as gorgeous as this? Surely, he wasn’t going to say those sweet words...

“You’ve always dreamed for this moment to arrive, right? Well, I guess I should say them now just so that you know that I truly, dearly love you the most.”

“We can’t end like this because of my foolish ignorance. If we did that, I know my world will fall apart without you. You really are the coffee that I need in the morning, I can’t do this without you.” 

“We’re soulmates, and you can’t ever say that we aren’t. You’re going to be bind to me forever, so I guess I just have to ask this one time.” His voice trembled when he looked back at you, the courage that he had built up for a while crumbling when you raised a surprise eyebrow at him. He wasn’t going to be surprised if you rejected him from the way he had been treating you, but he just needed to ask. 

“Will you marry me, princess?”

Waves of realization rushed over you again and again while you watched one of the tears in his eyes fall out from how happy he was to finally ask you the question that you’ve been pining for all your life. He was going to marry you after three years of your relationship! For the first time in forever, you didn’t need to wonder what life could be without him because you knew that he was going to be by your side until the two of you went to heaven together as breathtaking angels.

This journey of prosper was going to be difficult, but yet it was so beautiful. He was yours, and you were his. Even if it takes a long time for the two of you to really fall in love with each other, you’re glad that it’s him and only him. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You threw your arms around him in pure joy, relishing in the way that he had hugged you back with the same, reciprocated love. Giggling, you hoped never to let go of the warm embrace he enclosed you in, tightly gripping the back of his head as if he would disappear any second. You shut your eyes, sniffling silently at the precious feeling he had gifted you after a stressful argument. Only he could make you feel this special, if not being your fiance wasn’t enough. 

What other answer could be, if it wasn’t already a yes?

“O-of course, my prince!” 

With one strong, effortless pull, he took you into his arms and swung you around while you both laughed from the euphoria that was rushing through your veins. His smile was so big this time, and you took the opportunity to reciprocate the same delight. It seemed as if everything had stopped in time, reminding you that everything was going to be fine.

He slowly set you down on the floor again, holding you in his arms as you gathered your effort to stand up straight. There were tears in his eyes, but he didn’t want to show you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. 

“Thank gosh, you said yes. I’ve been dreaming you to say that for a long time...” He somehow brought himself much more closer to you, his nose pressing against your cheek. There was a faint smell of his cologne from the sweater that he owned, and he inaudibly groaned in your ear. Your saccharine perfume was always the best for him, whether you realized it or not, but he found it absolutely precious whenever you wore his home clothes looking so innocent like that. You just grinned at his little wish, pecking him on the cheek. “How could I not? You said it yourself, we’re soulmates.”

Like the many times in rough patches of this relationship, you realized that you couldn’t go wrong in this relationship as long as you remembered to trust Beomgyu. 

*·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.**·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.**·✧ ऀืົཽ *✧.*

Posted: 9/29/20- 8:18pm

Tags:

[scatterpatter]

Corren - 1 through 100 - You did this to yourself.

FUCK YOU *UN-IRONICS YOUR ASK*

UNDER THE FUCKING CUT

1. What do they smell like?

Bad. Do you think their party is able to regularly take showers? I thinketh the fuck not. ... Pine and old books when he can self care tho.

2. What is their voice like?

Listen I know Corren, being taller, would be more likely to have a deeper register but you'll tear "tenor Corren" out of my cold dead hands

3. What is their biggest motivator?

Spite.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory?

When he first met his BFF Alondra, he was so antisocial and good at ignoring people that she actually got the impression he might have been hard of hearing. She never let him live that down. (one day I'll finish this fic i promise)

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

"I will keep all of my pain in here, and one day I'll die." ... Okay but listen he's squishy so he takes like one hit and is bloodied up. Someone get him a healer. Pls.

6. What do they like to wear?

He likes his cloak. Its weighty and soft(well. WAS soft. got a bit of wear and tear these days.) and like. Who doesnt love cloaks.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

Ohhhhh fuuuccck this one's tough. I might have to go with Torvid honestly. While the entire party has had a positive impact on him(and trust me I was this close to picking Alistair), Torvid's been more of the one to call him out on his bullshit and to, oh I don't know, talk about your emotions? Ever??? Yknow BEFORE they become too much to handle and he absolutely breaks down???

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

Alistair's cooking.

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

Good luck finding him NOT cuddled up with at least one dog. Tbh he just enjoys cuddles in general.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

FUCKIN. GIVE HIM A GOOD STEAK. THIS BOY IS MOSTLY CARNIVORISTIC.

11. What do they feel most insecure about?

As tempted as I am to say "His cooking", it's actually his singing.

12. How do they like to dress?

"Comfort over flashiness tbh. I gotta go ADVENTURING in whatever I wear after all."

"... Also don't you DARE perceive me as cishet."

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

Call him a genie because he will BOTTLE THAT SHIT UP.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

Denial :D

15. What is their greatest achievement?

Shrike: Killing his dad

Me: NOOOOOO

EDIT: WAIT THIS WAS ANSWERED IN Q99 WHAT THE HECK

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Somehow more of a dick than usual. Snappy and cranky and just. Mrehhh.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

Doesn't get drunk often, but when he does I imagine he's actually giggly and a little clingy. It's cute :)

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

*Opens my Corren playlist* Oh yeah. It's either full edgy alt rock or indie alt "depressed millenial" tracks.

19. Are they right or left handed?

FFFuuhhhhck uhhhh well

Looking over my old art I can't seem to pick a dominant hand(I've even drawn him handling his sniper with either hand???????????) so like oops guess he's ambidextrous.

20. Fears?

The dark, the ocean, dying alone and forgotten, his friends losing their trust of him

21. Favorite kind of weather?

Rain!!!! Especially cool rain like what people often get in fall months.

22. Favorite color?

Indigo!!!

23. Do they collect anything?

Books :3

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

Cold weather by far.

25. What is their eye color?

Electric blue!

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

Well his race is a homebrew race known as Marelienth. Uhhh ethnicity? Idk he's from a mountain town way up north *shrugs*

In human aus I imagine him as half-Mongolian half-Norwegian so ayee

27. Hair color?

Black!

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

No :D He loves adventuring with his party don't get me wrong but he still has a lot of trauma to unpack. ... Also he was just possibly broken up with soooo. :/

29. Are they a morning person?

NOPE.

30. Sunrise or sunset?

*motions to above question* Sunset.

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

More organized, actually!

32. Pet peeves?

*unravels a list. It's all shit the party has done. Mostly Alistair.*

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

HOOUSIDSJFK- HE- Y-YEAH HE SURE DOES

His amethyst pendant used to belong to his brother, Julian, and he gave it to Corren right before they were separated so you BET it's sentimental as shit and he wears it daily.

34. Least favorite food?

Mecha's usually a great cook but one time trolled him with some absurdly spicy curry he couldn't handle and he's never forgiven them.

35. Least favorite color?

Hmmm. Maybe... yellow?

36. Least favorite smell?

He spent a year with his party in a damp cave and no showers, so uh. I'll give you a guess.

37. When was the last time they cried?

Literally last night in our game's timeline :D Full breakdown and everything!

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

Torvid :D He was there to comfort

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

One time they were in combat and Corren took a few hits and was down to about 2hp or so. He had a temporary level thanks to Kieran, which boosted his HP a little bit. When he teleported them to a safe town, though, well... Torvid was waiting for them so that's cool. But uh. Yeah that temporary level wore off then and there, dropping Corn Cob to exactly 0hp and he just- flopped down face first in the snow and started dying then and there KJNDKLFNSLKN

40. Do they have any scars?

:)

Do you want to talk about the scar over his eye from a fight he got in with his dad or like. The scars on his limbs from the time he was literally experimented on.

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

:)

Undiagnosed+Untreated Anxiety, Depression, DPDR, PTSD, just to name a few

42. Do they have any bad habits?

Running away from his problems, definitely.

43. Why might someone dislike them?

He's a pretentious nerd. He can be a dick if he doesn't care about you.

44. Why might someone love them?

He's an adorable nerd! He's a hopeless romantic and oddly enough an optimist. He's passionate and driven too!

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

Well ghosts are like- a canon proven thing in his world sooo. Yeah.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

His party. Well- most in his party.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

Nethyl :)

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

He's dating Nethyl and they're in a happy and healthy relationship :) *politely ignores canon*

49. Do they like surprises?

NO >:(

50. When is their birthday?

Heroya 5th! I think. I don't wanna check, assume it's this.

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

"You guys celebrate your watchdays?"

Jokes aside, he mainly just treats himself to a nice dinner and a new book or something :)

52. Do they have any family?

Two older siblings: Julian and Mila. His parents are Andreas and Fanya!

53. Are they close to their family?

... *Coughs*. He was close with his siblings, but Mila died and he hasn't seen Julian in 30 years. Was close with his dad but last time they saw each other, they fought and Corren might have killed him so. ... Yeah. :/

54. What is their MBTI type?

FUCK uh. I... N... T... J? INTJ. Sure.

55. What is their zodiac sign?

In Sekrezia: The eagle

In our world: Uhhh. Idk. Capricorn????

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

Uhhh. Ravenclaw??? I know almost nothing about HP :/

57. What D&D alignment are they?

THIS ONE'S EASY- lawful neutral!

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

:)

Used to have typical nightmares, nothing special. Nowadays though he often dreams of being underwater. Not drowning, though. It's... weird. He doesn't like those.

59. What are their views on death?

He's a necromancer lol.

Death is inevitable, though. It's a necessary part of life. Death is not an entire loss, though. One lives on in the memories others carry of them, in the love they hold in their hearts. Death is complicated, but that's okay.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

Alistair :)

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

Dog time :)

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

... Ehhhhhh?

63. Do they have an accent?

Technically??? It's an accent from where he's from but like. I just barely tweak my own voice when I rp him so? Damn Corren I'm sorry you've been cursed with east coast dialect.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

"Damn who's the rich bastard here?" (cake is kinda a delicacy in their world- not like elites only but not NEARLY as common as it is here)

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say?

Reassurance mode to whomever he's with. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm okay. Remember what I told you, death is a natural part of life, yeah? I don't have any regrets, I'm okay... Just. Thanks. For giving me a chance. Thank you. Thank you."

66. How do they feel about sex?

I SWEAR he's allosexual. I'm just bad at writing allosexuals.

67. What is their sexuality?

He doesn't really know how to pin it down, so he just calls himself "queer". Definitely not straight, that's all he knows.

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

AHAHA no. He's hella desensitized

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

Skulking cyst. Look it up at your own volition. It's. NO.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

It's 12:21 in the morning and I'm NOT about to scroll through a bunch of tv tropes just. just. NERD stereotype.

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

Yyyyes? Only really if it's the people he cares about.

72. Are they allergic to anything?

Bullshit.

73. Do they have a pet?

WINGTHARA!! HIS SKELE-DOG!!!

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

Oh yeah he's all bark and no bite. He usually just throws a little fit and/or yells.

75. How patient are they?

More than he should be :/

76. Are they good at cooking?

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

Oh yes he insults the others all the time. No particular favorite, he likes so spice it up.

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

Stim. Stim. Stim. His eyes get all sparkly and he. He.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

He will do everything in his power to assure they won't ever have to deal with their fears alone- You afraid of spiders? It's his job to get the spiders from now on so you won't have to deal with them.

80. Are they trustworthy?

Oh yeah. He's like Rapunzel- doesn't break promises.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

Oh yes he tries to hide it. And yes, he's awful at it.

82. Do they exercise regularly?

Yes and no? No like- exercise regimen, but the amount of travelling and fighting they do is just- a workout in and of itself

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

Yeah! He's cute and he knows it baybie!!!

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

He,,, he likes someone who's physically stong,,, Muscles are,,, aaaaa >///>

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

Someone he can nerd out with :)

86. Do they like sweet foods?

Impartial to it. He won't turn sweets away but he's not crazy about them either.

87. What is their age?

43, the equivalent of- I think someone in their mid 30s?

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

He's 6'8" :) Which is actually normal for his race

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

Sometimes! I like to think he has reading glasses or something like that.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

HE'S CUTE AND HE KNOWS IT.

91. What is their sense of humor like?

Julian tainted his sense of humor and now he finds the most dumb shit hilarious. Think very millenial/GenZ humor like "I wish I was Jared, 19"

92. What mood are they most often in?

"I don't get paid enough for this" or Fear.jpg

93. What kinds of things anger them?

People who don't keep their FUCKING WORD. Oh and like. Yknow. Half the shit his party does.

94. Outlook on life?

Again he's??? Oddly an optimist? In the "Things will get better and that is a fucking THREAT" way, but still optimist!

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

Talk about his family :) Or the fact that his boyfriend might want him dead :)

96. What is their greatest weakness?

He's squishy as fuck. He goes down easy.

97. What is their greatest strength?

He's extremely intelligent and great with magic and his sniper!

98. Something that they regret?

Not doing more to stop his brother when he tried to resurrect their sister

99. Biggest accomplishment?

Either convincing an entire town his name is Torren or accidentally convincing some very OP people that he's secretly a dragon.

100. Create your own!

FUCK YOU I SPENT LIKE 2 HOURS ON THIS. NO PROOFREAD. IVE ALREADY DESIGNED CORREN'S AND NETHYL'S HYPOTHETICAL KIDS. ANYWAYS THEY'RE TWIN IRINAGA AND I'VE NAMED THEM AFTER THE DNDADS TWINS: THEIR NAMES ARE LARK AND SPARROW.

[catflorist]

The Time Being (ao3 / ffn) catflorist Summary: Time-slipping is a side effect of wielding the Rinnegan. When Sasuke slips through time, he always goes to Sakura, whether he wants to or not. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

pt 5: sakura

After Sasuke left, Sakura woke up alone on a bench just as the sky began to lighten.

She rubbed the goosebumps on her bare arms. The aching pressure of a sob churned in her chest, but she could not cry.

Someone sat next to her. She recognized the line of his shoulders before she recognized his face.

Sasuke's jaw was sharper, his hair tied back and long enough to graze his shoulder blades. Mismatched eyes—red and purple—met hers before fading into their familiar dark.

He frowned. "You're cold." His voice was quieter, deeper than the voice of her Sasuke. He shrugged the cloak off his shoulders and offered it to her.

Sakura accepted, too stunned to speak. There was no need to voice the obvious. He was not the Sasuke she knew.

"I always wondered how you knew I was leaving," he said.

Sakura burrowed inside the cloak, still warm from his body. The fabric was soft, sun-worn, and smelled like salt. "Because I know you," she answered.

Sasuke smiled, and Sakura's head cleared. He had left, but he was here again. That had to mean something.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice trembled, but the knot in her throat was loosening.

The first rays of sun peeked over the horizon, lighting the treetops in gold. "I need to tell you something."

As dawn rose, Sasuke told her about his time-slipping, about the Rinnegan, that she should expect more appearances in the years to come. Sakura listened in a rapture. When he revealed the truth behind the massacre of the Uchiha clan, her tears finally fell. In the morning light, the village appeared ghostly, like bones bleaching in the sun.

"Will you ever come back?" Sakura asked, when everything was said.

"Yes," Sasuke said.

She dried her eyes on the collar of his cloak. "Do you promise?"

"I promise," he said. "We'll meet again soon."

"How long?"

"Five years or so, for you." His brow furrowed. "I'm sorry. You'll need to be patient with me."

"I'll be here when you're ready," she said.

Smiling again, Sasuke tapped the center of her brow with two gentle fingers. "You're with me right now."

A rush of questions flooded Sakura's mind, but they were out of time. Sasuke frowned, rubbing his temples, and Sakura took this to mean he was about to leave. She passed the cloak into his lap.

Sasuke slipped away like ducking underwater, leaving behind a quiet ripple of his presence.

When Naruto and Kakashi found her, the village had already woken up. Traffic clattered from the nearby main streets, and curtains fluttered from open windows. Someone nearby was grilling fish for breakfast.

"He's gone," Sakura said.

For a beat, Naruto and Kakashi said nothing. They searched Sakura's expression, giving her the opportunity to grieve, if she wanted to. But Sakura's breathing remained calm.

Kakashi lifted the hitai-ate obscuring his left eye. His gaze shone with regret. "This is my fault." At this, Sakura's lip started trembling.

Naruto's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. "I'm going after him," he snarled.

"There's no need, Naruto." Sakura gripped the stone of the bench. "He'll come back one day."

.

.

Sakura trained under Tsunade and grew strong. She learned how to tear open the earth and to mend bones. How to store her chakra drop by drop, so one day it would become a vast ocean under her control.

Two years passed before she saw Sasuke again. It occurred in her own time. He perched on the rim of the cliff outside Orochimaru's hideout, wind lifting his robes. A purple obi ensnared his waist. With the sun at his back, he looked more shadow than boy. His eyes held nothing when he looked at her—neither interest nor contempt.

Then he said, "Sakura." He exhaled her name like a breath, like he didn't even realize he was saying it.

It still hurt when they failed to convince him to return, even if it was what Sakura expected.

The trip back to Konoha was solemn. Naruto was shaken and quiet, and even Sai wisely held his tongue. They traveled through the night until Captain Yamato constructed a temporary wooden shelter with four separate rooms.

When she was alone, Sakura held her head in her hands. She tried to fit the Sasuke she just saw into her knowledge of him. He was longer her teammate, and he was far from the man who had chosen to tie his hair back. He was somewhere in between, somewhere lost, with a long way to go.

"Sakura?"

Sasuke, exactly as she remembered from their genin days, inspected her wet face. All his questions stopped. He grasped her hand and looked stubbornly away, daring her to state what they both knew. It was not his way to freely offer a comforting touch.

Sakura closed her eyes. Sasuke had promised to return, but she never would have doubted it on her own.

.

.

"The daimyo wants to drain a lake to build another summer palace, and the council says they have the funds to spare," Tsunade spat, shoving a mountain of paperwork in Sakura's direction. "But there's nothing in the budget for the civilian guilds?"

Sighing in sympathy, Sakura pulled her favorite chair to Tsunade's desk. She flipped through the paperwork, signing a perfect copy of the Hokage's signature on each page. Tsunade filled two glasses with amber liquid, set one beside her student, and settled behind her own tower of paper. This was their evening ritual.

Signing her name with angry flourishes, Tsunade muttered, "Three years as Hokage and I can't get anything done."

Each day, Sakura watched Tsunade fight the council tooth and nail to implement her vision for the village. Each day, the council blocked her every move.

Sakura's pen stilled. Tsunade did not know the truth of the Uchiha massacre. Was it right to tell her?

"Tsunade-shishou…" she began, then the words froze on her tongue.

Her teacher raised an eyebrow. "Spit it out," she urged.

"Have you ever thought that the council might be doing more harm than good?"

This was a radical view. Many citizens of Konoha supported the council in their decision-making. The village was prosperous and powerful. There was no reason to ask deeper questions.

Tsunade was silent for a breath too long, revealing her answer. Teacher and student gazed at each other with a new understanding.

Sakura's hands shook. "There is something you should know."

The council met in an imposing structure set behind the largest gate in the village. Since few windows penetrated its thick walls, the building's interior remained cold and dim no matter the season. When darkness fell, Tsunade and Sakura snuck inside and entered the archive.

After undoing a genjutsu, breaking the ninjutsu seal on a wooden chest, and snapping a plain lock in half, they uncovered the file detailing plans behind the Uchiha massacre.

The scroll was thin. It did not take much space on a page at all to massacre a clan.

Sakura read it first. It was one thing to hear the truth from Sasuke. It was another to see it confirmed in writing, signed by the leaders of the village, and stamped in approval. When she saw the Third Hokage's signature, her heart panged. Sarutobi-sama had always been kind to her. Yet he had known and approved of this plan. Was it a betrayal, or a requirement of his position? Which was worse?

"This village is rotten to the core," Tsunade muttered after closing the scroll. "Is this why your teammate left?"

"No," Sakura said. "He doesn't know the truth yet."

"How did you think to look for this?"

"I was close with Sasuke," she offered, not meeting her teacher's eyes. "I had a suspicion."

Tsunade did not push further. She pressed her lips together, rubbed the space between her eyebrows. For once, the ageless face of Sakura's teacher looked tired.

"We carve our faces into the cliff as if we have something to celebrate," she said. "As if we owe our greatness to the world. But it's all a lie."

Huddled next to Tsunade, surrounded by the archive's chilly secrets, Sakura swore to make the village a better place by the time Sasuke returned.

.

.

"No surprise, Sakura. They denied your plans." Tsunade stamped a document hard enough to shake her entire desk. "Danzo told me personally."

Sakura clenched her fists, but she was not surprised. Last week Tsunade refused to shut down an investigation into the Hyuuga clan's use of branding. Now, the council had coincidentally tabled Sakura's sensible proposal to construct a pediatric wing of the hospital.

This was not Sakura's first roadblock. Last month, the council canceled their first meeting with Sakura's newly-established civilian board, citing scheduling conflicts, and dodged all attempts to reschedule. Not long before, they implied that unless Tsunade agreed to spare three extra jonin for the daimyo's entourage, they might not find funds to spare for Sakura's medic training program. Each time, Danzo delivered the news with a modest smile, as if he were pouring her a cup of tea and expecting gratitude in response.

The more Sakura's plans fizzled out, the more she feared Konoha could never change.

Sometimes Sakura imagined herself leaving the village. She thought about it the same way she thought about embracing the next Sasuke she saw. It was not a real possibility, but the idea floated in her head, and sometimes hurt to think about.

She could live alone somewhere. Maybe by the ocean. Her brain conjured all the details: fresh, salty air. Seabirds screeching and plummeting into the water. The temperamental sand shifting under her feet. There would be nothing to fix. Nothing would require changing. Maybe she would find peace.

Sakura worked hard to improve the village, but she did not buy the plant Ino suggested would flourish in the morning light of her bedroom. She stored every scrap of chakra away for her future seal. She did not spend money except when her friends dragged her to dinner. She thought about the Sasuke who smelled like salt. She dreamt about the ocean.

.

.

When Sasuke appeared next, it was at the worst possible time, and that's what she told him. She had a village to defend and to heal.

Sasuke was closer, somehow. He wore the obi, but his eyes were brighter. He did not hesitate to approach her and to call out her name. Sakura wished he had stayed long enough for her to heal the wound on his head.

The battle worsened. A hoard of Katsuyu's summons under Sakura's command saved the hospital and the old Uchiha compound from destruction, but Pain's attack leveled much of Konoha to the ground.

Tsunade sank into a coma. Shizune and Sakura tended to the wrecked village.

Captain Yamato was reconstructing Konoha by himself when Sakura stepped in. In his patient voice, he taught her the basics of woodstyle. At first she could only summon twigs and vines. Her wood produced too much foliage, inhibiting its use as a building material. She persevered. By the end of the month, she was by his side, reimagining and rebuilding Konoha, coaxing the surrounding forest to regrow.

Sakura and Yamato faced the empty land where the council building once stood.

"I have an idea," Sakura said, "though it isn't traditional."

"By all means," Yamato said.

Sakura pressed her hands together. Wood coiled into the air and formed a new type of building. It was small and modest with an unadorned facade. A large window opened upon the council gathering space. Where the gate once existed, she created a square for the citizens of Konoha to gather. The council's discussions could no longer occur in private, outside the public eye.

It was no trivial responsibility to possess the skills to rebuild a village. If she could carve out a window when before there was none, create a new space for people to breathe, she would.

.

.

"Sakura, you have too many jobs," Ino complained.

"I am a simple student," Sakura denied, though Ino was right. In Tsunade's absence, Sakura's role in the village took on more of a political nature than ever.

After the council appointed Danzo as the temporary Hokage, she and Shizune fought to maintain Tsunade's policies and legislation under his strict rule. During council meetings, she served as Tsunade's representative. In between these responsibilities, Sakura squeezed in training and shifts at the hospital.

This meant Sakura did not have time in her schedule to eat dinner with both Ino and Naruto in one week, so she requested they meet together. Her two friends disrupted the peaceful evening of every Konoha resident with their public debate over where to eat before Ino finally threw up her hands.

Naruto slurped his Ichiraku's ramen. "You're a student, a shinobi, an architect..."

"...a medic, a politician," Ino picked up. She considered. "A large-forehead-bearer."

"Pig," Sakura responded fondly. She eyed Naruto. "Dobe," she said, using Sasuke's word without thinking, and the cheerful mood dampened.

Ino set her teacup on the table with a soft clink. "Have you heard anything?"

Naruto sighed. "The teme is up to some shit."

Sakura chewed her lip. The last they'd heard, Sasuke had formed a team and joined the Akatsuki. Five years or so, Sasuke had promised. Over four years had passed since that day.

Just as a lump formed in Sakura's throat, Ino squeezed her shoulder. "Let's walk to the square, later," she suggested. "It's great, but I think it could use a few more places to sit."

They walked to the square. Sakura twisted wood into benches and placed them according to Ino's vision.

"Beautiful work. But what about trees? Some shade would be nice," Ino said. "Don't you think, Naruto?"

"Eh? But it's night––ow," Naruto gasped, as Ino elbowed him in the ribs. "I mean, absolutely. Could use some greenery, and all that."

Sakura's hands flew through the signs. Trees sprouted in each corner of the square, growing taller than the nearby council building, than any building in the village.

The transformation was immediate. Soft murmurs of rustling leaves replaced silence. A bird landed upon a branch. From where they were standing, the newly born foliage obscured the faces carved into the Hokage Mountain. In the silver wash of the moon, it appeared as if they grew over the mountain itself, a tangle of wood and leaf and stone.

Without speaking, the three of them sat together on the nearest bench, inaugurating the new space.

"This was a good idea, Ino," Sakura said.

Ino and Naruto raised eyebrows at each other.

"Do you feel better, Forehead?"

Gazing at the treetops, Sakura found herself smiling. She felt better.

.

.

Sakura was listening to a council meeting with detached resentment when news broke of Danzo's death.

Tsumiki Kido, Danzo's closest confidant on the council, called for a moment of silence. As councilmembers bowed their heads, Sakura's heart raced. She and Shizune shared a careful glance.

When the moment was done, Tsumiki shook his head. "It is clear Uchiha Sasuke has outgrown his usefulness."

"He is a criminal and an enemy," another voice chimed in.

Sakura already knew there was a future waiting for Sasuke. He would live to meet her on that bench. Still, her blood ran cold.

"The boy has shown his true colors," Tsumiki replied. "Who will his next target be? How else will he terrorize our beloved village?"

As evenly as she could manage, Sakura said, "Konoha will never be the same after Danzo-sama's loss." She lowered her head, and faces around the table followed suit. "He displayed the Will of Fire until the end. It is evident he made a great sacrifice for the village, a sacrifice we must not undermine."

Tsumiki frowned and opened his mouth.

"Don't you see?" Sakura interjected, meeting the eyes of each councilmember. "Danzo-sama could easily defeat any enemy. In his wisdom, he understood that Uchiha Sasuke's continued wellbeing is in the best interest of the village. The Uchiha clan's doujutsu, the Sharingan, is a valuable tool. Only Sasuke possesses this skill, now that his brother Itachi is dead."

When several heads nodded, Sakura frowned and looked to the ceiling. She twisted a strand of hair around her finger, as if in thought. "I'm happy to volunteer to look through our archives on the Uchiha clan. I'm certain I'll find useful information that illustrates how having an Uchiha in service of the village is beneficial. Perhaps I'll uncover other skills, other histories, that are useful to know. We keep good records, after all."

The younger members of the council did not blink, but Sakura watched key faces twitch. Their eyes bored into her, wondering if the words archive, Itachi, records, all said in the same context, were a coincidence.

As silence fell, the public square outside remained lively. Two elderly civilians took a seat upon one of the newly crafted benches. A shuriken thunked against the large window overlooking the meeting space. Children's laughter sounded, then a group of young Academy students raced to retrieve their object.

Tsumiki's lips pressed together in a thin line. "That won't be necessary."

All talk of retaliation against Sasuke ceased. Discussion turned to Danzo's funeral preparations, then to candidates for the next acting Hokage. Sakura suggested Kakashi. The council grumbled, but it was a good suggestion.

"You spoke well, but that was a risk," Shizune said later. "They will be upset."

.

.

Sakura was scrubbing her hands after a surgery when she heard that Tsunade was awake.

She burst into the room. Shizune lifted her tear-streaked face and smiled. Tsunade sat upright in her bed, young and fresh as ever, as if awaking from a catnap rather than a deathly coma. Her teacher was not physically affectionate, but she returned Sakura's tight embrace with no reservations, and brushed the uncombed hair away from her face.

"You've both been busy," Tsunade said, after Sakura and Shizune explained everything she had missed. She eyed Sakura, inspecting the dark circles under her student's eyes. "Don't give too much away. You can't heal or fight or fix this damn village if you don't keep anything for yourself." .

.

Sakura was on the battlefield. She saw his shadow before she saw him, that familiar line of his shoulders. .

.

.

.

Up next: Sasuke and Sakura meet again.

Notes: double cliffhanger...don't be mad? :) though i hope some of your questions are starting to be answered.

also, we're more than halfway through now! this chapter through the end were the hardest to write--thank you for following along with me!

[farfromharry]

always (part seven) | harry holland series

summary: you and lily spend christmas day with the hollands and you couldn’t be happier

word count - 2.1k

a/n - merry christmas!!

It was officially only days before christmas and Lily was already almost 2 weeks old, which you couldn’t believe. You’d gotten help to make sure you had everything prepared present wise, but you and Lily were going to spend actual Christmas day with the Hollands.

A sudden distressed cry woke you from your sleep, pushing yourself out of your bed to tend to your babygirl. You moved around to the other side of your bed, your baby looking at you with teary eyes and a red face.

“Oh, there’s my little angel.” You gently lifted her from her crib, holding her against your chest and gently stroking her back. You bounced her gently, pressing kisses to her head to try and soothe her.

“You’re okay.” She continued to wail in your ear, your heart aching for your precious girl.

“You hungry darling?” You looked at her distressed face, taking a seat on your bed, lifting your shirt up to let her latch on.

You sighed, leaning your head back and glancing at the time on your phone screen. 4:23am.

“We’re gonna have to get you a better sleep schedule baby.” After she was done feeding, you carefully laid her back down in her crib, watching over her for a few minutes to make sure she was okay, before climbing back into bed yourself. You were out like a light the second your head hit your pillow, you were utterly exhausted.

The next morning you were woken again by loud babbles from Lily, checking the time and seeing it was almost 10am.

You sighed, pushing yourself out of bed and scooping the girl up in your arms. Harry would be coming over soon anyway. You changed Lily’s nappy and dressed her in a fluffy purple onesie, making your way into your living room to set her down in the kitchen, so you could make breakfast.

“Y/n?” You called back with a ‘hey’, letting Harry know where you were.

He entered the kitchen with a smile, moving over to the little baby to give her some affection.

“There's my favourite little girl.” She babbled, reaching up to try and touch his face. He carefully picked her up out of her high chair, pressing kisses to her cheeks and having a mini conversation with her. At least as best he could considering she didn’t understand anything he was saying.

“So, how’s it going being a mum?” Harry asked, entranced with the girl in his arms who was grabbing at his fingers.

“I adore her but,” You paused, seeing Harry look up in concern at the ‘but’. “I’m so stressed and sleep deprived.” Harry could see how tense you were, he’d noticed how tired you looked when he first came in, but he didn’t want to sound rude.

“I didn’t realise it’d be this hard by myself.” You complained.

“Let me look after her for a few hours,” He offered. “Go and catch up on some sleep.” You were hesitant, feeling bad to burden him with Lily, but also growing slightly protective over her.

“She’ll be okay, would i ever let you down?” You shook your head, thanking him.

“Be good for Harry.” You kissed her head, Harry pouting when he didn’t get a forehead kiss too.

“Anyone would think you’re the newborn.” He grinned, accepting your kiss with a smile.

“Have a good sleep.”

“Thank you,” A lightbulb went off in your head, realising he didn’t know what to do. You turned back around to tell him and he simply rolled his eyes. “If she cries, there’s a bottle in the fridge, just heat it up, nappies are in in her nursery and-“

“I’ll be fine, if I need any help I'll call my mum.” You nodded, taking a deep breath before heading to bed to catch up on lots of missed sleep.

“Looks like it’s just me and you now.” Harry spoke to the girl. The two had a fairly enjoyable time together, Harry in love with everything she did and the girl in awe of him. It was hours later that you were trudging into the living room looking much more refreshed. Harry was sitting on the couch, Lily against his chest while the curly haired man talked to her.

“How did it go?” You asked, taking a seat next to them and resting your head on Harry’s shoulder.

“She was a perfect angel, didn’t cry once.” He boasted. You grinned, stroking her chubby cheek.

“Thank you for helping me, my hero.” You kissed his cheek, watching Lily scrunch up his shirt in her tiny fist. It wasn’t long before your bub began to get uncomfortable, beginning to cry her small heart out.

“I think she’s finally ready for her nap.” You carefully lifted her off of Harry’s chest, taking her over to the bassinet you kept in your living room. You laid her down, hovering over her for a few minutes to make sure she knew you were there.

“Go to sleep hunny, I know you’re tired.” You watched her eyes flutter shut, content with the world around her.

“And then there were two.” You said, sitting down next to Harry again. He yawned and stretched his arms above his head.

“I mean, I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted after watching her.” You huffed.

“Don’t leave me yet.” You begged, staring at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Can I just nap here?” He asked, watching you think about it.

“I guess so.” You said, Harry scoffing at how unamused you sounded. You flashed him a cheeky grin, motioning for him to lay his head on your lap.

“Here.” You handed him a fluffy blanket that you usually kept on the back of your couch, throwing it over his body to keep him warm. You spent the next hour stroking through his curls, watching him sleep peacefully with the comfort of your warmth. With your other hand you just scrolled through your phone, not wanting to disturb Harry with the sounds of the tv.

He eventually started to shift, signalling to you that he was waking up. His hair was messy and he looked absolutely adorable, staring up at you with tired eyes.

“Thank you.” He mumbled. Nuzzling his face into your hoodie material.

“Always.”

———

3 days later and it was officially Christmas day, you were getting Lily’s stuff together to head over to the Hollands. You had already taken presents over a few days earlier, just so today you only had to bring yourself and your baby.

The drive over to the Holland household was quite pleasant. There was soft christmas music playing in the background, with the bubbly feeling of excitement in the pit of your stomach.

Getting out of the warmth of your car, you were hit with the freezing december weather, rubbing your hands together for warmth.

Lily was quick to protest at the change in temperature with a small uncomfortable cry, her chubby cheeks turning a soft pink shade as the cold hit her.

Your cold knuckles knocked on the front door of the house, a shiver running through your body.

You wrapped Lily’s coat around her tighter, pulling her little hat down and doing everything you could to protect her from the blistering cold. The door to the Holland house opened a few minutes later to a smiley Harry. Welcoming you inside.

“There’s my favourite girl.” Harry said, taking Lily from your arms and cradling her close to his warmth. You scowled at him playfully.

“Me or her?” You asked, teasing your best friend. “Be careful with your answer.”

“You, obviously.” He stated, like it was a fact. When you nodded, seemingly satisfied, he leaned in close to Lily, his mouth close to her tiny ear.

“I lied, it’s definitely you.” He whispered to the girl, tickling her to make her giggle. You scoffed.

“I heard that, Holland.” He laughed, sending you a teasing wink.

You followed him into the living room, seeing the other Holland’s scattered around doing various things.

“We have visitors.” Harry announced, motioning to you. Sam was quick to practically snatch Lily, peppering her cheek with soft kisses.

“Merry christmas y/n!” Nikki said, pulling you into a tight hug. You said it back, thanking her for letting you crash their Christmas day.

“You’re always welcome.” Tom was next to pull you into a hug, ruffling your hair like an older brother would.

“Did I hear y/n?” Paddy asked, slipping into the living room to look for you.

“Hi, little man.” The nickname caused him to groan, it’d been something you’d called him for years, even after he passed you in height.

“I’m taller than you.” You rolled your eyes, pulling him into a hug.

“And I don’t care.” You simply stated. You watched Lily receive all the affection she could ever ask for, babbling incoherent things.

“Can we open presents now?” Paddy asked, motioning to the pile under the tree.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” You whined, feeling bad that the teenager was unable to have a normal christmas morning.

“You’re here now, so let’s get started!” Paddy announced. You stifled a laugh, nodding your head. You watched with a smile as the lads fussed Lily, helping her rip open the wrapping paper on her presents.

“Come here a second.” Harry said, tapping your shoulder. He took your hand and lead you away from his family.

“This is for Lily.” You playfully rolled your eyes at your best friend.

“It better not be another stuffed animal, she has too many already.” You joked. Harry shook his head with a small grin, telling you to just open it. Harry had pulled you over to a more quiet part of the living room to give you this, not wanting his brothers to see or hear.

“A blanket?” You asked, looking at him in confusion. A blush rose to his cheeks. He showed you the space where Lily’s name was engraved in, only confusing you further.

“I don’t get it- why did we have to open it separately?” You asked.

“I-i may have made it.” He stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You awed, finding it cute that he’d go through so much trouble for you.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not.” You argued. “I think it’s adorable.” You said, squeezing his cheek playfully.

“I didn’t really know what to get her so-“

“Harry, this is perfect, thank you.”

After all the presents came the part all the Holland boys were the most excited about; christmas dinner.

They practically ran to the dining room when Nikki announced it was ready, taking their seats at the table and digging into their plates like animals.

“You’re like savages.” Nikki muttered, receiving a laugh from you as you dug into your own food. Every now and then you’d alternate between eating and amusing Lily so she wouldn’t cry.

You pinched her cheek gently, wiping the drool from the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

“Such a messy baby.” You said. She just babbled, showing you her gummy smile that made your heart flutter.

“A bit like Harry.” Sam said, receiving a slap to the arm from his twin. You laughed at the two, leaving your angel to finish up the last bits of your meal.

After dessert Nikki turned down your offer to help clean up, forcing one of her boys to do it instead. Tom groaned, trailing to the kitchen with some dirty dishes in his hands, muttering complaints on the way.

“Nikki, that was amazing, thank you.” She smiled, kissing your head as she walked by. The table was disturbed when your little bub began to cry, you being able to recognise that she was crying for food.

“I think she’s hungry.” You pouted, lifting her up into your arms.

“Go feed her, we’ll sort this.” Sam said, motioning to the table that needed clearing.

“Are you sure?” You asked, feeling slightly bad.

“Unless Harry’s going to grow boobs and feed her, I'm pretty sure you’re the only one that can.” Harry slapped his twin upside the head, calling him an idiot. You just laughed, making your way up the stairs to feed your precious angel.

———

“I really enjoyed today, thank you.” Harry squeezed your shoulders gently.

“We’re all glad you were both here.” The two of you continued to get ready for bed, you also getting Lily into her onesie. The three of you would be sharing Harry’s bed in his childhood room for the night, having to make sure Lily stayed safe between you both.

You climbed under the covers, next to your already sleeping daughter. You had a smile gracing your face, one that Harry couldn’t help but completely adore.

“Goodnight Harry, merry christmas.” You whispered, laying your arm over Lily gently to make sure she’d be safe.

“Merry christmas y/n.”

always taglist - @hopelessly-harry @iwearheadphones @thevelvetseries @minejungwoo @siriuslyslyslytherin @givebuckyhisplumsnow @itstaskeen @icyhollands @starkweasley

[kjhmyg]

rough edges pt. 4 (m)

pairing: jungkook | (f) reader genre: college!au, badboy!jk warnings: mentions of drugs, implied sex word count: 11K

1 / 2 / 3 / Part 4 / 5

author’s note: no smut in this chapter folks, but i’m posting the next one real soon and you better hold on to your panties for that one. i wanted to show more of jungkook’s pov in this one. enjoy! 

Jungkook makes a bee line in the direction of the toilets. He turns the corner at the far end of the dance floor and enters a long corridor. He turns right in the direction of the men’s room, then stops halfway, leaning against the wall that separates the area from the dance floor. The music isn’t as loud here and he sighs, being able to hear his own thoughts for the first time tonight. A couple of other club goers walk past him. He waits for them to be out of sight before digging into the inner pocket of his jacket, taking out his phone. Swiping the screen, he finds multiple notifications of text messages from you. He’s smiling before he even opens them. 

They’re mostly pictures of you, back home, where you’re spending Christmas and New Year’s. You’ll only be back in two weeks and he’s counting down the days till then. When you mentioned going home for the holidays, he looked a little down. Not because he didn’t want you to be with family, but because he didn’t want to be without you. You had asked if he wanted to come home with you, but then you both decided it might be a little too early for that. Also, he’s deathly afraid of your dad after hearing how much of a perfectionist the man is. But not wanting him to feel lonely, you promised to send him photos whenever you can. 

“I’ll be fine.” He says, tightening the scarf wrapped around your neck. “Besides, Jimin and a few of the guys are gonna be around. I won’t be alone.”

“Alright.” You pout, asking for a kiss. “I’ll miss you.” 

The train horn sounds, signalling that it’s about to depart soon. Both of you look in the direction of the train where other commuters are hurrying aboard. “I’ll miss you too, baby. Take care and call me when you get there.”

“I will. I’ll send you lots of pics.” You nod, smiling. You were so excited to go back home but now, having to leave Jungkook behind has you questioning whether you really have to go. “Stay out of trouble, okay?”

He chuckles, kissing your forehead. “I’ll try.”

"See you next year then." You say, lifting your bag over your shoulder. You're sad about having to leave him behind. "Merry Christmas. And happy new year." 

"Okay come on Santa, you're gonna miss your train if you don't get on now." 

You giggle as he directs you to the train car door. "One more thing." He tilts his head and grins when you stop yourself from getting on the train, and turn to face him instead. You're so stubborn.

"What is it?" 

"I love you." 

You're still so shy about saying it so openly. He grabs your face and kisses you deeply. "I love you too." 

The platform guard starts whistling and you hurry up the train. Jungkook bites his lip at how cute you are, then there’s a sinking feeling in his heart. He doesn’t like seeing you go, even if it’s just for a couple of weeks. But he’d rather not show it to you, because he knows you’d feel bad about it. You rush to your seat and wave to him from the window. He watches from the platform as your train departs, and until he can no longer see you. 

He scrolls through the photos you send, noting the family members and friends in some of them but honestly, his eyes only look for you. The scrolling stops when he lands on a photo of you in a dressing room, trying on a light blue dress. It hugs your figure nicely. Too nicely. You definitely know what you’re doing sending him that photo. Oh the things he would do to you if you were standing in front of him right now in that dress. 

He closes the chat and clicks on a private folder in his gallery. His tongue comes out to wet his lips and he gulps, suddenly feeling very thirsty as he looks through the photos and videos he has of you. Specifically, a video you sent last night, where you’re laying in bed in your nightgown. Only showing from the neck down at first, the camera then pans to where you’re lifting the fabric up to reveal your bare body underneath. Your hands trace your skin from the top of your chest all the way down, and your fingers find their way to your⎯

“Damn. Does she have a sister?”

Jungkook jolts from his position, pressing the phone to his chest. The other guy chuckles, crossing his arms and leans against the wall, facing Jungkook.

“What the fuck. “ Jungkook breathes, positive he’s just had a heart attack. He looks to the side where Suga stands all smug. “Are you trying to kill me? How long have you been standing here?”

“Long enough.” He winks and Jungkook groans. Jungkook locks his phone and shoves it safely back into the pocket it came from. Suga continues to observe Jungkook. How he gets all clammy when the topic of you comes up. Jungkook should know better than to try and keep secrets from him. “You know you shouldn’t have your personal phone on during work. Much less use it.”

“I know I just...nevermind.” 

“It’s that girl, isn’t it?” He smiles his signature gummy smile. “Y/N?” 

Jungkook scoffs way too quickly, only confirming Suga’s theory. He raises a brow at Jungkook, who shakes his head and walks off, back towards the main area of the club. He rests against the bar and orders an iced tea without thinking much of it. When Suga joins him, he frowns. “What now?” Jungkook asks, noticing his expression.

“Iced tea?” Suga nods towards the drink and Jungkook blinks, looking at it. “Why are you drinking iced tea?” 

Jungkook can’t admit it’s because iced tea is your regular order when you eat out, and it kind of grew on him. He pushes the drink away. “It’s...refreshing?” 

Suga laughs, then motions for Jungkook to follow him. They walk past the crowd of people, towards the back exit where security guards the door; one on the inside and one outside. They exchange nods, stepping out into the back alley to find a quiet space, away from listening ears. They lean against a fence wall separating the club ground from a more sophisticated version next door; a gentlemen’s club which they’ve only been to once. It’s a huge contrast. Same type of business just different target audience. 

“I’m not stupid.” Suga takes a box of cigarettes out of his pocket and lights one up. “She’s more than a friend, isn’t she?” 

“Who?” 

“Drop the act.” He rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. 

Jungkook drops his head into his hands and groans. Amused by his younger brother, Suga chuckles, ruffling Jungkook’s hair. It’s been a while since he’s seen Jungkook this vulnerable and he’s enjoying it.

It’s been almost two months since the night Suga and you met. Although Jungkook tried his best to redirect the conversation every time a question was sent your way, at the very least, you had given Suga your name. Would’ve been impolite not to, anyway. Suga put two and two together. It became all the more apparent to him why he’s been seeing less and less of Jungkook at work, why he never stays longer than he needs to anymore, and why the car always smells like sex.

“You’re not as slick as you think you are. I’m disappointed.” 

Jungkook sighs, then looks at him as he takes a slow, long draw of the cigarette. "Sorry. I know I shouldn't get myself attached to a girl especiall⎯"

"No, not that." Suga smiles. He lowers his voice, "We work with drugs, among other things, so keeping secrets should be your forte. Yet, I find you in a corner, jacking off to a video of your girl." 

"I was not⎯" Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. "I was just...relieving some tension."

“Right.” Suga throws his half-used cigarette on the ground and steps on it. He crosses his arms across his chest and expression turns serious. Jungkook knows that look. It means he’s thinking over something important. He waits patiently for the older guy to speak. “Listen. Don’t think the others haven’t noticed how distant you’ve been. They don’t know about Y/N yet. You’ve got to be more careful.

“I”ve been covering for you. I told Captain and Lieutenant that your university’s keeping a close eye on you. So you had to lay low. I’m just telling you this so our stories check out. The boss is here. Big boss. And he’s called for us to see him in a bit.”

“What, why? Shit, are we in trouble? This is all my fault.” Jungkook fidgets in his spot. The boss seldom makes an appearance. There’s usually an underboss who passes the necessary information to their captain or lieutenant, who then passes it to them. 

"Calm down." Suga frowns. "Since when do you get nervous? You better get yourself together. He's expecting us right about now. Come on, Ace." 

Jungkook straightens himself up. Suga walks ahead, back to the club and before Jungkook trails behind, he’s grabbing for his phone again. But this time to switch it off. He doesn’t usually have it on, but he misses you. And waiting till after every shift to be able to see you is torture. Now that it’s off, he can focus. He has to. Suga stops by the door, waiting for him to catch up and they head up to the second floor of the building, down narrow corridors before reaching a room guarded by two of their colleagues. They greet each other and one of the two opens the door for them. 

It leads them to a room with a gambling table in the middle. Everyone at the table is serious, silently observing their opponents. Inside, there are four other guards, one by the door, one by the table, and two standing in front of a second door to the back of the room where they’re headed. All of them armed. The two walk quietly across the room and wait as the guards make their presence known to the boss. It’s a makeshift office, where Mr. Kim waits for them. They enter once they hear him call out for them. 

“Sit down.” He says as soon as they step inside. The lieutenant, who was sitting on the other side of the table across from Kim, gets up and smiles at them as he takes his leave. At the very least they know it won’t be bad news if he’s not leaving the room looking sullen. They take their seats and wait for instructions. 

Contrary to what anyone would expect the boss to look like, he has a kind face. Like someone you’d see in the supermarket grocery shopping for his kids, which makes it easy to get comfortable. That is, until he gets angry. Neither of them have experienced it personally, yet. And they hope not to after all they’ve heard about him. He’s not the boss for nothing. 

He gets right down to business with the boys, sliding a tablet across the desk towards them. On the screen, there’s a picture of a vacated building. It looks similar to the one they’re in. 

“This is…?” Suga asks.

“A new location.” Kim replies, a smile on his face. “Abandoned a few years ago after it caught fire. Pretty damaged but we’ve got men working on it already. It’ll look good when it’s done in about a month.” 

Jungkook notices the address at the bottom of the photo. He thinks about it for a while before realising he knows where this is. “Wait. This is in our district.”

Kim smiles and nods. “It is.” 

Jungkook glances at Suga and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Suga sends him a look that tells him to keep cool. “Sir, is there a reason you’re setting up the new location in my area? I mean, based on my numbers, I think I’ve been pretty consistent in my dealings⎯”

“Calm down.” He chuckles, leaning back into his chair. “Always so serious. No wonder you’re so good at what you do. But no, we’re expanding because business is good. Especially in your district. Stressed college kids who need help winding down, looking for some fun. We’re just bringing the party to them. It’ll make things easier for you.” 

“But boss, the cops are gonna be all over the place.” Suga says. “We definitely can’t move as freely there, like we do here. One slip up and it’s over.” 

“So don’t slip up.” He says casually, then laughs. “But ah, you’re right. So maybe until we’re clear, we don’t move the drugs there. Let the cops see it’s just another nightclub. Till then, you can continue pushing the drugs as you normally do. Then once we’re clear, we open up business. I’m sure you can figure out the timing, I’ll leave that to you.”

The boys nod. Jungkook sees the appeal, it’ll definitely be easier to have a base in the district itself. It would save him and Suga a lot of time than having to come down all the way to this club to get supplies. 

“So who’s the lead on this? The Captain?” Suga asks.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Kim says. “I’m leaving it to you. Both of you will oversee the entire movement there.”

“Us?” Jungkook and Suga speak in unison. 

“Yup.” He nods, taking back the tablet. “I’ve been hearing good things about the two of you. If you’re as good as they say, then maybe...you don’t need to answer to anyone anymore.”

“Wait, what are you saying?” 

“You two will manage the place. And…” Kim smiles, taking out a black notebook from his drawer and starts to write. “At the same time, you’ll be training some new members. This is supposed to be the Lieutenant’s job but I want you two to have a go at it. The new soldiers will then take over your place in a few years because by then, after Ace is done with college or whatever, you won’t be pushers anymore. I’ll want you on the team. Maybe a captain. Or co-captains. We’ll see.” 

Suga and Jungkook look at each other, then back at Kim. There's an obvious glee on Suga’s part. In this business, the only way is up. They don’t take their instructions straight from Kim, there’s usually a captain giving them the orders. But now they’re getting a chance to be captains themselves. Jungkook remains poker-faced as he usually does. On the inside though, he’s a little conflicted. Suga’s happy, is he supposed to be happy too? He thinks about you. Would you be happy? 

The boss clears his throat, snapping Jungkook out of his thoughts. He reaches under the desk for a small black briefcase and places it nicely on the table. It unlocks with a click and inside, stacks of money which he’s grabbing by the bundle. He starts counting and places five grand in hundred dollar bills on the table, in front of each boy. The two of them remain seated, looking at the money in front of them. Jungkook looks to Suga quizzically.

“Sir, what’s this for?” Suga asks, attempting to sound casual. “We got our pay from the captain two weeks ago.”

"Just a little Christmas gift from me." He winks.

Again, Jungkook waits for Suga to move before he does, only reaches for the money when the older boy does. He folds the stack in half and keeps it safe in his jacket pocket. 

“One more thing.” Kim says just as they start to get up. “I need you to track someone down.” He slides the tablet back to them, this time there’s a photo of a man on the screen. “This is Jax. He owes me money and unfortunately, he’s been avoiding us and our men. There’s word he’s hiding out in your district. See if you can find him and bring him to me.”

They nod and excuse themselves. But before Jungkook steps out of the room, the old man calls out to him again. “I hear you’re having some trouble with your school. Did someone rat you out?”

“Oh.” Jungkook gulps. “No, nothing like that. Just word of mouth maybe. But don’t worry, I’ve been keeping a low profile.” 

“Good. If anyone gives you trouble, just take them out.” He says casually, not even looking at Jungkook anymore. “And if you need any backup, let your captain know. Tell him you’ve got orders from me.” 

“Right. I will.” Jungkook nods with a half-smile. “Thanks boss.” 

Jungkook speed walks out the room, past the gambling table and finds Suga by the door, making small talk with the guards. They walk back down and Jungkook checks the time; a little after three in the morning. The club closes in a few hours, staying open just a little longer during the holidays. The crowd is already starting to wind down, though the music keeps blasting. 

“What’s the matter? Bedtime already?” Suga chuckles, speaking over the music. 

“I’m tired.” Jungkook says. “Aren’t you going home?” 

“Home?” Suga scoffs. “Haven’t had that in a long time.” 

Jungkook looks away, sharing the same thought. He just hadn’t realised how he’s started calling the frat house and you, as home. He fist bumps the older boy, then takes his leave, riding home in the early morning on his bike.

𝄖

“Are you awake?” You ask over the phone. It’s early, but the only time you’re able to have a decent conversation with Jungkook, in the privacy of your room and away from the prying ears of your grandmother.

“Now I am.” He hums, still sleepy. He stirred from his sleep as his ringtone goes off from your call, about to switch it off, until he sees your name across the display. “It’s okay, I wanted to hear your voice anyway.” 

“I miss you.” You say.

“I miss you too.” He smiles, leaning against the wooden headboard. It presses against his back uncomfortably but it doesn’t bother him, not when he’s busy pressing the phone closer to his ear, listening to the sound of you giggling on the other end. “Feels weird when you’re not just a drive away.”

“Well, now you know how I feel when you disappear for days on end.”

“Hey,” he pouts, “I thought we’re way past that.” 

“I know,” you laugh, “I’m just messing with you.” 

Jungkook laughs along dryly. It brings him back to what happened at work and what Mr. Kim said. He wonders what you would say if he tells you he’s about to get a promotion. It’s weird; before you, he wouldn’t think twice about anything related to work. Probably would be ecstatic at the thought of moving up the ranks. But now, he wonders if that’s really what he wants.

As much as he hates to admit it, what Hoseok said before is probably true; you’re not going to want to deal with this forever. And you’re definitely not worth losing. You sense that something’s bothering him and after a long pause, you ask him, “Everything alright?” 

“Everything is...normal.” He nods, even though you can’t see him. You only hum in response, hoping he’ll tell you when he’s ready. “I’ll tell you when you’re back.” 

“Alright.” You say. “Hey, can we facetime?” 

“Sure.”

You click on the option and wait for the screen display. When he finally comes on screen, you almost throw your phone across the room. How does he manage to look that good when he just woke up? Ridiculous. But he’s thinking the same about you, the way you’re glowing, like an actual angel. “God I miss your face.” He breathes.

“Life is so unfair.” You pout and he’s confused. “You wake up looking like that? Come on.”

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffs. “Have you seen the way you wake up from a nap with drool on your face? I can’t beat that.”  

“Shut the fuck up.” You hiss, not wanting anyone to hear you. “That was one time! And I was really tired.”

You both start laughing and it slowly dies down to you just staring at each other. Jungkook runs a hand into his hair and leans his head against the wall, watching you like he’s trying to memorise everything. You heat up a little under his stare. How do the butterflies still not go away after so long? “Hey Jungkook, merry christmas.”

“Oh, right. Merry Christmas to you too.” Jungkook smiles fondly, trying to ignore the squeezing sensation in his chest. It’s sad, but he thinks this might be the first time someone’s wished him a merry christmas. He’s not usually around for the holidays, so it’s not anyone’s fault. And it’s not like they’re gonna start singing carols and having christmas dinners at the club. Then he clears his throat, interrupting his own thoughts. “So, you must be pretty busy there?” 

“Kind of.” You shrug. “Just decorating the house, getting ready for the Christmas dinner tonight. My dad’s pretty stressed about that. He likes everything to be perfect.”

“I can tell.” He agrees and you tilt your head asking how. “Cause you’re perfect.” 

You can’t help the smile that forces its way onto your face, looking down to avoid eye contact out of embarrassment. There’s nothing that Jungkook likes more than to watch you react so adorably to his words. He could watch you forever, but then you hear footsteps moving about outside and your expression changes. You haven’t told anyone about Jungkook yet, so you’d rather they not hear you. You lower your voice when you speak, “I think I have to go now.” 

“Oh, alright.” Jungkook nods, though he looks obviously disappointed from such a short time with you. “Call me when you can.” 

“I will. Bye Jungkook.” 

You hang up quickly after he says goodbye. It leaves him feeling empty, suddenly aware of how quiet it is. There’s less of the usual ruckus around the house with most of the boys having gone home. He then wonders about how different it would be to spend Christmas with you, and your family. A sudden longing overcomes him. 

To shake it off, he decides to get up, rolling off the bed and tossing his phone back on the mattress. He’s headed for the kitchen but before going down the steps, he realises the soft music coming from Jimin’s room. He walks over and finds Jimin on his bed, singing along to the songs. His knocks on the door, startling Jimin, who smiles wide when he sees Jungkook. It’s not always that the younger guy comes to him, it’s usually the other way around. “Hey stranger.” 

“Hey.” Jungkook steps inside slowly, hands in the pockets of his shorts. “Merry christmas.”

Jimin doesn’t hide the surprise on his face. Is this what they call a Christmas miracle? “Merry Christmas to you too, buddy.” From the look on his face, Jimin thinks Jungkook might have more to say, so he pats the area on the bed next to him, but Jungkook shakes his head instead.

“Um, do you want to maybe have lunch later? Or dinner? Only if you want to.” Jungkook clears his throat, trying to ignore the awkward atmosphere. 

Jimin grins up at him. “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes and turns to leave. “Just let me know when you’re ready. I’ll drive.”

𝄖

It’s not a fancy dinner, and Jimin is fine with burgers and a shake. Jungkook had actually asked Jimin out for help on picking out a gift for you. He wanted a second opinion, since he’s never done this before and Jimin was kind enough not to give him too much shit for it. Of course, it’s not Jimin if he doesn’t drive Jungkook crazy. They spent an hour bickering because Jimin insisted on dropping by planned parenthood to get himself tested. 

“Why do you need to do this today?!” Jungkook yells in the car. 

“Because we’re already out, Jungkook!” Jimin yells back and Jungkook groans. “I need to get myself tested ASAP!”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Then I wouldn’t have asked you out!” 

“Because then you wouldn’t have asked me out!” Jimin can’t help but to let out a chuckle. “And I needed a ride.” 

“You are the most annoying person⎯”

“Oh!!! You can get yourself tested too! We can go in together!” 

“That’s it, I’m crashing this car.”

For the sake of his own sanity, Jungkook went along with him. But it was only after Jungkook threatened to tell Taehyung that Jimin had a crush on him the first time they met, that Jimin finally shut up. Only to open his mouth ten minutes later to suggest Jungkook give his test results to you as a Christmas present.

“Oh yeah,” Jimin groans, mouth full, “this is definitely better than microwaved mac and cheese. Thanks for bringing me out of the house.”

Jungkook stays quiet, eating his own burger and downing sips of soda. It’s only after a while that he speaks. “I spoke to Y/N, about her and Hoseok.” 

“And she said they’re just friends, didn’t she?” Jimin asks, nonchalant. Jungkook nods, not meeting his eyes. “Told you there’s nothing to be worried about.” 

“I guess.” He shrugs. “Can I...ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” 

Jungkook sets his burger down and takes a long sip of his drink. Jimin eyes him curiously as he does. Everything about today has been strange. Jungkook almost never spends time with anyone outside of school, and even when he does, it wouldn’t be him that makes the first move. “How do I know if whatever choice I’m making is the right one?” Jungkook continues when Jimin doesn’t respond, “Like if you have to choose between two things, how do I know if I’m choosing the right one? Assuming you can’t have both.” 

“First of all, I can’t believe you’re coming to me for advice.” Jimin says cheerfully, then gets serious again. “But okay, that’s too vague Jungkook. It really depends on the context.”

Jungkook thinks hard. He doesn’t want to let Jimin know what this is really all about. “Okay so, if you’ve always liked dogs...but now you realise cats are cute too.”

“O-kay...and you can’t have both a cat and a dog?” 

“Um,” he thinks, getting confused himself, “maybe the cat’s allergic to the dog?”

“So you want the cat?” 

“Yes. But she- it’s allergic to dogs. And I have a dog.” 

Jimin blinks. “Yeah, I can’t work with this. Do you want my help or not?”

“Okay okay,” Jungkook whines and Jimin almost snorts at his tone if not for how serious he looks, “what if all you’ve known is one thing but now you don’t think you want that anymore. You want to move in a different direction. How do I know if I’m going in the right direction?”

“You’ll just have to take the risk. Won’t know if you don’t go for it.” 

“What if I regret it?” 

Jimin stares at him for a while. “You might have regrets either way. That’s life. If you choose that one thing, you might regret not going for the other. If you choose the other, you might regret it because you miss how it was before.” 

“So, there is no right choice?”

“That depends on you. Which option would your future self’s happiness outweigh the regret? That’s the choice you go for.”

“Happiness…” Jungkook mutters to himself. What makes him happy? He wonders. But all he sees is an image of you in his head. Jimin snaps his fingers to bring him back. 

“Okay? Just do what makes you happy.” 

Jungkook nods, silently reaching for his burger again. He continues eating as if nothing happened and so does Jimin. They sit in silence for a while, save for the sound of their chewing. Then Jungkook says ever so softly, “Thanks hyung.”

𝄖

“Are you sure he’s here?” Suga sighs, asking the kid walking ahead of him. He sends a disapproving look Jungkook’s way. “The last couple of places you’ve sent us were dead leads.” 

“I think so. I...I⎯I think he’s here.” He stutters and Jungkook has to hold Suga back before the new recruit pisses himself under his death stare. It’s dark and dirty, an old apartment building with floors that feel like it might collapse at any moment with every step they take. 

Christmas and the conversation with Jimin pushed to the back of his mind, Jungkook’s back at work, trudging through this place, looking for a wanted man. Next to him, Suga’s seething, “I swear if we don’t get this guy, you⎯” He stops when Jungkook grabs his sleeve, stopping them in their tracks. 

“Will you shut up?” Jungkook growls. “You’re scaring him.” 

Suga looks offended. “I’m scaring him? Gee, sorry mom, I won’t do it again. Why don’t you ground me while you’re at it!” 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jungkook hisses. 

Suga sighs again, running a hand through his hair, messing it up. The other guy moves ahead when Jungkook nods for him to go on. He continues to search for the right apartment, one which he was told the guy Kim is looking for can be found at. “I’m really tired and this kid is getting on my nerves.” He says, gesturing towards the guy. 

“Give him a break. He’s new, it’s not his fault he got assigned to this.” Jungkook whispers. “We’re supposed to train him, remember?” 

“I don’t give a f⎯”

“Uh...guys…” The newbie calls out. They turn in his direction and walk towards him, standing in front of an apartment. Door ajar, and a mess on the inside. The window is open, probably from leaving in a rush. Another dead end.

“Fuck.” Suga grunts, storming off in the direction they came from.

Jungkook sighs and turns to the boy. “You can go. Call me when you have new information. But check your sources first.” 

He looks at Jungkook sheepishly and mutters a soft apology as Jungkook walks away, catching up to Suga who’s already standing by the car in the back alley. “He sucks.”

“Yeah well, he’s new. And young. Give him a break.” Jungkook stares Suga down. The car door clicks as Jungkook unlocks it and they slide in.

"Hey, we started young too." Suga mumbles, then smiles as he thinks about the past. "Remember? You had such innocent eyes, fooled everyone into giving us intel for Kim. Gave us everything we need. And look at where we are now." 

"Where is that?" 

"What d'you mean?" Suga cocks a brow at Jungkook, frowns when he doesn't reply. "Did something happen?" 

"No, nothing." Jungkook sighs, shaking his head. The car's engine revs up as he turns the key on the ignition. "Just really tired." 

"Hang in there." Suga says softly, looking out the window. "If we do well managing the new club, we'll move up the ranks as captains. We won't have to do stupid runs like this anymore. I mean it's fun but it'll be even more fun getting soldiers to do the dirty work for you. Am I right?" 

"What if I don't want all that?" Jungkook asks carefully and quietly, immediately regretting it after. They've known each other for a long time; they're practically brothers. Suga knows Jungkook like the back of his hand, or at least he thinks he did. Recently though, Jungkook's been hard to read and acting differently. Suga doesn't like that.

"What the hell are you saying?" His voice is low but Jungkook can sense the frustration in it. "You don't want to be captain? Dude, what is wrong with you, you're acting so weird. Seriously. The normal you would've beaten the crap out of that newbie for leading us to three dead ends! But no, you're all soft now. Talking about giving him a chance and shit…and now you don’t even want to be captain?" 

“I⎯” Jungkook opens his mouth but can’t find the right words. He backtracks instead. “Nevermind. Just forget I said anything.”

Jungkook starts driving, heading back to Suga’s apartment to drop him off. After a long silence, Suga speaks again. “I don’t know what’s going on but I hope you don’t make any stupid decisions. Take some time to think things through. Then tell me if you’re in or out.”

Jungkook nodded even though he stopped paying attention halfway. Once he’s dropped Suga off, Jungkook takes a long drive through the night with the windows down. But the cool night breeze does little to clear his mind, so he decides to head to the gym instead. 

While he managed to get through his usual workout routine, it didn’t help him forget about what happened earlier either. He didn’t even realise a guy at the reception was speaking to him until they called out his name a couple of times. They wished him a happy new year and Jungkook returned the greeting, collecting his belongings from them. 

It’s three days into the new year so things are slowly going back to normal; students returning from their hometown. He was bummed when he got called into work on new years’ eve and had to miss out on a facetime session with you that night like he had planned. He hasn’t been home since and he sighs, feeling exhausted. Thinking about you, he takes out his personal phone and tries to switch it on, but the screen remains black. The battery’s dead. Perfect. 

He heads back to the house, driving past other greek houses hosting parties. The house is dark when he walks through the front door, save for the light coming from the television in the living room. Reruns of bad movies are playing on the television and a few guys are on the couch with drinks in their hands. Jimin, amongst them, turns his head when he notices Jungkook, then smiles. He’s drunk. He raises a finger at Jungkook and opens his mouth, then his brows crease and mouth drops into a frown. “Have to tell you something...can’t remember…”

“Cool. Goodnight.” Jungkook heads for his room, leaving him confused.

Jungkook runs up the steps but stops just as he reaches the top. There’s light coming from under his door. Had he left his lamp on before leaving a few days ago? He doesn’t think so. He walks up to it slowly and presses his ear to the door. It’s quiet. Gently, he turns the doorknob and pushes the door open. 

Are his eyes playing tricks on him? He looks around the room and sees luggage placed by the bed. They’re yours. And then there’s you, sleeping peacefully in his bed. He closes the door gently and walks over to you, kneeling by the side of the bed. It’s the first time he’s seen you in weeks. Without realising, he cups the side of your face with his palm. Your stir at his touch and he almost regrets it, if not for the cute way you pout and eyes flutter open.

“Jungkook?” You mumble, placing your hand on his.

“Hey baby.” He smiles, moving in to kiss your forehead. “What are you doing here?”

“I came back early.” You say softly. “Hana’s not home yet and I thought I’d come stay with you. I called you, but I couldn’t get through. So I came here.”

Jungkook curses himself for not charging his phone earlier. “And they just let you in?” He asks, keeping in mind the house rules in which non-members aren’t allowed in unless you’re with a member.

“I flirted with Jimin and he let me in.” 

“Sounds about right.” He chuckles. While he’d love to slide into bed with you right now, he figures he should clean up first. So he removes his hand from you and gets up, but you grab onto his arm to stop him. 

“Where are you going?” 

You’re so tired that you drift in and out of sleep. He finds it so endearing. He places your hand back gently and pulls up the covers. “I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll join you in a bit.” You hum in response. 

Jungkook’s shower is a quick one. The warm water from the shower doesn’t match up to having you snuggle up against him. He finishes quickly, dries his hair in the bathroom and practically runs back into the room, slipping under the covers with you, wrapping his arms around you. You roll over when you feel him pulling you close, resting your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the sweet smell of his soap. 

Your legs tangle into each other’s and your arm wraps loosely around his waist as his hand rubs your back in gentle movements. For the first time in three weeks, he feels relaxed, falling asleep almost immediately.

𝄖

One day, Jungkook’s waking up in the dark of Suga’s apartment, where the paint is peeling off and it’s vacant save for the couch he sleeps on. The next, he finds himself waking up to something dreamlike; his room in a nice orange glow from the morning sun streaming in, his legs tangled into yours, and you softly tracing your finger over his skin.

A smile forms on his face and he groans sleepily. Even though he’s tired, he chooses to wake up. You feel his hand slide down your back, down to your butt where he rubs circles. You look up and see him smiling, eyes still closed. You scoot up and give him a peck on the lips and get an approving hum from him. Once you’re free from his hold, you roll off the bed to wash up. He watches under sleepy eyes as you undress, stealing glances at him when you slip out of your nightwear. 

“Missed you so much.” 

You turn, smiling. “I missed you too.” 

“Not you,” Jungkook replies, “her.”

You turn, looking around the room. He must be sleep-talking, you think. “What? Who?”

He grins, then throws the blanket off himself to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out for you. He pulls you in and turns you around so your back faces him. His hands up both sides of your butt. “Her.”

You erupt into a fit of giggles, playfully hitting him with a pillow and he holds his hands up to defend himself. “You’re so stupid.” You laugh, ending up on top of him when he grabs you. “Missed you.”

You stare at each other for some time and he traces your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You can’t help but to lean in for a kiss. It starts off as gentle pecks, until he places his hand on the back of your neck and slips his tongue into the kiss. You’ve both missed this. It seems silly when he thinks about it since it’s only been a few weeks. Makes him feel guilty too; all the time he’s gone off the grid and you’ve had to put up with it.

“Mmkay, I’m gonna wash up.” You pull away too quickly but he doesn’t stop you, and his eyes don’t leave you, or your butt, as you put his oversized shirt on and head for the bathroom with your clothes and toiletries.

It’s a short shower, since you figure the rest of the guys might wake up soon. Most of them are back by now, though probably not up yet. So when you hear a knock on the bathroom door, you think it may be Jungkook. Thankfully, you had enough sense not to open the door without getting dressed first.

“Hoseok. Hi.” You try not to sound awkward. By the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting you either. “Sorry if I was taking too long...shower..” You gesture vaguely and he nods. 

He must have just gotten home, still dressed nicely but with bags under his eyes. You grab your bag of toiletries and towel before slipping out the door and heading straight for Jungkook’s room. But a hand on your elbow stops you before you can get to safety. You jump a little, surprised at the contact. “Sorry,” he says, “um, so how was your break?”

You look in the direction of Jungkook’s closed door just a few steps away, then back at Hoseok. “Good. It was nice.” You nod and he nods, shoving his hands in the pocket of his jeans. You turn to the door again. And back at Hoseok. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with talking to Hoseok. Afterall, you’ve made it clear to Jungkook that it’s just a normal friendship. But you don’t want him catching on to what really happened between Hoseok and you that evening. 

“Can we talk? Maybe in my room, just in case he hears us.” Hoseok speaks softly and gestures to his room at the end of the hallway, in the opposite direction of Jungkook’s. 

“Okay but make it quick.” You say, following behind. 

You leave the door slightly ajar, so you can keep an eye on Jungkook’s door. “Look,” Hoseok starts, “I wanted to say sorry. I shouldn’t have told you about...everything.”

You cock a brow at him. “Why?”

“I know it got you all stressed out.” He sighs. “And I feel bad.”

“I’m fine now.” It’s not entirely true but it’s not a lie either. You’re still worried about the entire thing. “Don’t worry about me, alright? I’ll figure out how to help Jungkook.”

Hoseok looks at you in surprise. “You will? So you’re going through with my plan?”

“Not really. I’m figuring things out as I go.” 

“Huh.” He blinks. “So you don’t have a plan.”

“I’m trying okay!” You hiss. “Give me some time. You can’t expect him to quit his job and turn into a missionary all in one day!”

He breaks into a tiny smile, “Your plan is to turn him into a missionary?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Your cheeks heat up when he holds back a laugh. Sounds from outside distract you and you look through the gap to see Jimin, entering Jungkook’s room. He makes a ruckus and you hear Jungkook telling him to get out. “Anyway, I’ll update you once I get any info. Anything from your friend?” 

“No.” Hoseok shakes his head, brows furrowed and looking worried. “He’s been really quiet as of late. Bit weird.” 

“Maybe he’s busy.” You shrug and Hoseok chews on his bottom lip. "Okay I should go." 

"Right right, you should." Hoseok rubs the side of his neck as he manages a small smile. He's acting weird. You quickly slip out of his room and head straight for Jungkook’s. Only to bump straight into Jimin who’s exiting the room in a hurry. 

“Y/N!” He breathes, hiding behind you. “Your boyfriend’s trying to kill me.”

“I’m sure he has a good reason for it.” You giggle, just as the door swings open and Jungkook sees you, then turns his attention to Jimin and lunges forward. Jimin screams but Jungkook’s only reaching for you to get you away from him. 

“Stay away, demon.” Jungkook hisses.

“What is going on….” You mutter to yourself while you hang the towel behind the door. 

They get into a scuffle as Jimin tries to enter the room again and Jungkook holds him back. It barely takes any effort on Jungkook’s part and all you hear is Jimin grunting. You sit on the bed, waiting for it to end. 

“I just⎯ need,” Jimin huffs, then kicks Jungkook in the nuts. Jungkook bends over and falls on his knees, groaning. “I’m sorry! I need to talk to Y/N!” Jimin says, taking the chance to jump over Jungkook and step inside, bending over to catch his breath.

“Oh my god,” You gasp, hands to your mouth. “Jungkook are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about him, he’s immortal.” Jimin says, stopping you from going to Jungkook. He sits you down again and pulls out a piece of folded paper from his back pocket. “I need you to look at this.” He hands you the paper and stands in front of you with hands on his hips. 

“Um? An STD test?” You ask. It’s his and you’re confused as to why he’s handing you this.

“Now that you’ve seen this and know that I’m clean, would you say it increases the chances of you going out and or, having sex with me?”

Jungkook gets up just then and goes straight for Jimin, tackling him to the ground. “How dare you.” He grunts, pinning Jimin’s arm behind his back. “She’s my girlfriend!”

“You’re hurting me!” Jimin cries. “Let me go, I’m not interested in Y/N!” 

Jungkook releases his hold, reluctantly, when you tell him to. He stands with his arms folded, watching Jimin carefully. Jimin breathes hard, holding on to his right shoulder. He glares at Jungkook from the floor and punches his thigh, only to hurt his own hand doing so. He screams when Jungkook fakes a kick.

“What are you up to?” You ask Jimin, sighing.

“I’m not trying to sleep with you.” Jimin huffs. “I just wanted to know if it’s a yes or a no.”

“Well, I honestly don’t know. It depends.” 

Jimin gasps. “On what? I don’t usually get rejected…”

“Usually?” You eye him curiously and he avoids your stare. “Ah...I see what’s happening.”

Jimin furrows his brows at you. You only smile back knowingly. It’s amusing to think about how he’s older than you but behaves so childlike sometimes. 

“You asked a girl out and she rejected you.”

He remains stoic for a beat until he can’t take the silence. “Fine, yes! She mentioned something about me being a fuckboy. So rude.” 

“She’s not wrong.” Jungkook mutters, going to sit next to you. 

“So anyway, I took the test to show her that I’m safe.” Jimin says, pouting. “But she still won’t go out with me.” 

“Maybe it’s not about that?” You shrug. “She probably just doesn’t like you. No offence.”

“That’s crazy, I’m so lovable.” 

“You’re disgusting.” Jungkook comments.

“Look, just leave her alone.” You say. “If she likes you, you’ll know.”

“But I need to know why she doesn’t like me...” He whines and you chuckle. 

“Why does it matter if she likes you or not?” You ask, eyeing him again. He fidgets under your stare. “Unless...you like her?”

“I don’t!” Jimin jumps to his feet. “I just don't understand why she would not want to hang out with me.”

You watch him with a knowing look. Jungkook furrows his brows and puts a hand up to him, “Wait. Did you take this test and force me to get it done with you, then show it to Y/N so you can get some advice, all for this girl? Wow.”

“Shut up! I hate you guys!” Jimin yells, storming off. 

Jungkook smiles, “Yeah he’s definitely into her. I know from experience.” He leans in to capture your lips in a kiss, one which you smile into. Your hands move down his bare front, teasingly tracing his abs. “Any plans today?” He asks breathily when he pulls away.

“Hm...I have a lot to unpack. Let’s go back to my place.” You smile, noting the way he pouts. “You can help me.”

“I have a better idea.” He smirks, hand around your waist as he moves back and pulls you on top of him. “We can stay in bed.” 

“Sure I guess.” You shrug. “But you know Hana’s not around right? So we have the entire place to ourselves, to do whatever we want.” You whisper the last part against his lips and he knows you’re just trying to lure him in, but he’s so weak when you use that voice on him. 

“I’ll go get ready.”

𝄖

“Why are we here again?” 

You turn and stare quizzically at your boyfriend, whose sulky face leaves you in giggles. There’s nothing more fun than watching a grumpy guy pushing a cart through the supermarket. “To get groceries, duh.”

“Why?” He frowns. 

“What do you mean why? Cause we need food. You know, to survive.” You tilt your head. “Have you never gone grocery shopping?”

“No.” He shakes his head. 

“What? Then who gets the groceries at the house?”

“I don’t know.” He blinks. “Probably everyone else.” 

“God, you are such a horrible housemate.” You mutter and he doesn’t react, suddenly wondering, who does get the groceries? 

You hear him grumble once he realises you’ve walked ahead, followed by the sound of the wheels of the cart against the floor, speeding up to catch up with you. You don’t actually need the cart, you just wanted to make him push one. It’s amusing, especially since he looks so cute doing it. 

You breeze through the supermarket, already knowing what to get since Hana and you follow a strict list of things to get. Only the necessities, to save cost. It’s only when you reach the jam and spreads aisle that you get stuck. “Hm...chunky or creamy?” You think to yourself. 

Jungkook waits patiently as you decide. He’s standing next to you with the cart in between. He stares as you tilt your head and pout a litte, then smiles at how adorable you look even when you’re just standing there. He pulls out his phone and snaps a shot of you. Just as he shoves the phone back in his pocket, you turn to him. “Chunky? Or Creamy?”

“Why not both?” He shrugs.

“Because we have a budget.” You shrug.

He sighs, then leaves his position from behind the cart to stand next to you. He looks at your two options. "Chunky."

"Hm," you pause, "I think I'll get creamy." 

Jungkook stares at you, puzzled as you reach for the jar and move around him to place it in the cart. You smile up at him innocently and get on your toes to give him a kiss. Maybe he'll forgive you this time. When you see a tiny smile forming, you skip away down the aisle and turn into the next one.  

It suddenly hits Jungkook. Would this be how it's like to have a normal life with you? Whatever normal is. He's still in the same spot thinking about how domestic this all seems, when he sees you return with a stack of tissue boxes, a grin on your face when you see him. 

"You alright?" You ask when he doesn't move or say anything. 

He manages a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking." 

"About what?" 

"You." He says almost immediately. 

A shy smile makes its way onto your face and you bury your face into his chest. He chuckles and kisses the top of your head. When you pull away, you stare at him for a while, giving him a once-over. 

"I love your outfit today." 

"You chose my outfit today…" He rolls his eyes but there's still a smile on his face. 

You decided on a white sweater with blue jeans for him. He looks less intimidating and absolutely adorable when he's not decked in all black or his favourite leather jacket. It's not like you went out of your way, he already had these items sitting in his closet. 

"Come on," he says, pushing the cart and holding your hand at the same time, "let's finish up and go home." 

"Okay. Actually I think we're done." 

"No, we need one more thing." You look at the items in the cart and tally them against your list. Everything's there. Still, you follow behind as Jungkook speeds up and finally stops in front of⎯ "We need lube." He says way too loudly.

You shush and cover his mouth, looking around. "What are you so loud for?" You whisper. 

He chuckles and kisses the palm of your hand. Then he reaches for a bottle of lube, reading its description. "Look, this one has a warming effect." 

A man walks past just then and you hide your face in embarrassment. Jungkook tries to hide his smile but fails. He's obviously enjoying this. He grabs your waist and presses you against his side. "Should we get this?" He asks, winking. 

You snatch the bottle from his hand and return it to its place on the shelf, grabbing another instead. "I think," you bring your face closer to his and lick your lips, "I'd enjoy the cooling lube more. Should we try this?" You ask in a sultry voice. And he knows you're only doing this to get back at him but that voice is really getting him going. He gulps, then takes the bottle from you and places it in the cart. 

You walk ahead when he doesn't say anything else, thinking you've won. 

"Babe! They have flavoured lube!" He yells.

𝄖

"Why are your clothes so big?" He asks, unfolding a black sweater that looks oddly familiar and holds it up in front of him. When he lowers it, you're staring at him with an amused look on your face.

"That's yours, Kookie." You say. "I borrowed it."

"Oh." He scratches his head and tosses it into the pile of laundry before him, focusing on unpacking the other clothes. "Kookie?" 

You smile, separating the colours from the whites. "I like it. It's cute." 

"Just don't call me that in front of the guys, okay?" He stops unfolding. "Especially Suga."

"No promises." You shrug. "Speaking of Suga, how is he?"

Jungkook pauses for a while, then says, "He's good. Why?" 

"Just wondering." You still remember the way Jungkook held you that night you met Suga. As if he was afraid of you getting any closer to him. Even during the cab ride home, he intertwines your arms and interlaced your fingers as if you would slip away if he wasn’t holding on to you.

"I have to tell you something about Suga." He says seriously. You watch him carefully and gesture for him to go on. "It concerns you. But you have to promise you won't get mad." 

"You're making me nervous. What is it?" 

"You know that video you sent me?" He starts, eyes suddenly glazed over. "The one where you're in bed, looking like a whole meal, and you start touching yourself⎯" 

"Jungkook, focus" 

"Sorry. You're so hot. Anyway," he smiles sheepishly, "Suga may have caught me watching that video…and he may have seen everything."

"What?!" You shriek.

"You promised you wouldn't be mad!" 

"I did not!" You throw yourself at him, shoving him to the floor and placing your hands around his neck in a choke. If anything, he’s enjoying it. "You're dead to me." 

He grins, hands sliding up your thighs wrapped around his middle. "I didn't know you were into this." 

"Ugh!" You throw your hands up in the air. "That video was for your eyes only!" 

"I know!" Jungkook sighs. "But I didn't know Suga was behind me. I'm sorry baby. I didn't do it on purpose." 

You whine and let yourself drop onto him. "Were you at work? Why were you watching it at work?" 

"Because. I was at work when I saw those photos you sent me. And I missed you." 

His voice is soft and gentle. Your heart swells a little knowing he thought about you while you were away. Even at work. You lift your head up to kiss him, sighing into the kiss. "Don't do it again." You say, pointing a finger at him and he nods. You draw circles on his chest for a while, "What did Suga think about the video?" 

Jungkook looks at you, amused. "He thinks you're hot." A tiny satisfied smile forms on your lips and he chuckles. "And he's right. I've missed being with you." 

His hands roam your body, from your thighs to your chest. "Me too." You bite his bottom lip, sucking on it then press your mouth to his in a wet kiss. He moans into it, hands already digging into the flesh of your skin. Until you push yourself off him. "But as punishment, we’re not having sex tonight." 

"What, no!" He whines, shooting up from his position. You almost fall over if not for him supporting your back. "Baby…don’t do this." 

You giggle when he pouts, pinching both sides of his cheeks. He tucks a curl behind your ear and you flinch slightly when it tickles your neck. The silence that follows as you stare into each other’s eyes causes the beating of your heart to intensify. And you can feel, from your bodies pressed together, that his is the same. He’s smiling sweetly up at you, a look you wish to engrave into your mind forever. When you think about the past, you’d never imagine you’d find yourself sharing moments like this with Jungkook. He always seemed so distant and cold. Yes he was playful and still is, but you never thought you’d be able to have a relationship with him like one you have now. 

The kiss that follows is slow and gentle. His lips move so carefully against yours, as if they’re savouring every touch. There’s longing in his movements and his touch, hands holding you gently over your clothes, but you can tell he’s holding himself back.  

"I almost forgot, I have something for you." He says.

“You got me a gift?” You ask, eyes lighting up and he nods.

You move to sit on the bed as he leaves the room momentarily, fetching it from his bag outside. You're excited, legs shaking as you sit at the foot of the bed, until he's walking back into the room, hands behind his back. You let out a tiny squeal when he joins you. "What is it?" 

You can barely contain it any longer, chewing on your bottom lip and eyes trained on his hands. He chuckles when you stare at him and raise your eyebrows, gesturing him to reveal it. 

"I wanted to get you something nice." He says. Your eyes go wide when you see a box in his hands. There's no mistaking what it is, a jewellery box. "I don't know if this is your style but I hope you like it…" 

You're silent when he opens the box, revealing a lovely rose gold necklace with a sparkling red heart-shaped pendant. You're more surprised than anything. You hadn't expected him to get you such a fancy gift. Maybe it isn't a big deal to him, but it is to you. He watches you, waiting for a reaction and worries when you don't give him one. 

"Do you not like it? I can return it⎯"

"Jungkook," you say softly and gently run a finger over the necklace, "you got this for me? This is beautiful." 

"Really?" Jungkook says, relieved. "I couldn't decide on a design, so I made Jimin come along to help me." 

He removes the necklace from its box and unhooks the clasp. You turn, lifting your hair for him to put it around you. It settles nicely around your neck and you run to the mirror to have a look. It's so pretty. And probably expensive. "This must've been expensive." You look at him from the mirror. 

"Don't worry about it." He reaches for your hand when you walk back towards him. "I got a bonus at work. I was actually going to get you matching earrings. But Jimin said you would think it's too much, so I didn't. If you do want it though⎯" 

You shut him up with a kiss. "This is more than enough, Jungkook. I love it. Thank you." 

"I'm glad." He grins wide, his tiny dimple showing. 

"I actually have something for you too." You say, walking over to your luggage. You unzip a compartment and with your back to him, pull out his gift and slip it under your shirt. He watches you curiously when you walk back. 

"Great hiding place." He chuckles.

"Shut up. Listen." You sigh. "I should've gone first. My present looks really lame now compared to yours." 

"I love it already. What is it?" He grabs at your hands under the shirt and you resist, laughing. 

"Okay, okay!" You hesitate for a moment, then remove the present from underneath your shirt, holding it out in front of you. "Ta-da! I made you a sweater." 

"You made me this sweater?" He takes it from you, running his hand over the soft material. It's a blue knitted sweater that you spent hours on back home. 

"Yeah. I knitted it when I was home." You bite your lip as he looks at it in silence. "Do you like it? I'm sorry it's so lame. It's such a grandma present. As in literally my grandmother helped me with it. Maybe I should've gotten you a watch or something. It's not too late, I could run some errands and get you⎯" 

"Y/N," he says, voice low and gentle, "this is the best thing anyone has ever given me." You would think he's exaggerating except for the lack of mischief in his eyes. Only sincerity. And if you're not seeing things, maybe there's a gloss in his eyes that wasn't there before. "No one's ever made me anything before." He says softly, looking at the sweater again.

It drops to his lap when he swoops in to cup your face and kiss you. Starts off gently, but he picks up the pace. You return the kiss, trying to keep up with him. He gets up from his position to lift you up, moving further up the bed. 

He wastes no time in removing the bottom half of your clothes, throwing your pants and panties on the floor, then spreading your legs so he can take a good look. "I know you said no sex tonight. So it's okay if I don't get my orgasm but I'm about to make sure you get yours." He kisses your inner thighs, then moves dangerously close to your cunt. Before doing anything else, he moves back up to kiss you on the lips. "Do you want me to stop?" 

You shake your head and he smirks down at you before going back to his position, making himself comfortable on the bed. He shifts your thighs over his shoulder and you tremble with anticipation. "Ready for part two of your present, baby?" 

𝄖

Jungkook breathes out a sigh looking at the notifications on his phone. Missed calls and messages, mostly from Suga. He dials Suga's number and braces for the yelling he's about to receive. 

"Where the fuck are you?" Suga seethes on the other end as soon as the line clicks. Jungkook winces. His calls and messages had come in while he was in bed with you earlier and no way was he about to answer the calls while he was making you scream his name in bed. “Why didn’t you pick up my calls?”

“Relax.” Jungkook says calmly. “I was busy. What’s up?”

“Busy?” Suga scoffs. An uncomfortable silence follows before Suga speaks again. “Don’t tell me, you’re with that girl again, aren’t you?”

The lack of response on Jungkook’s part confirms it and Suga groans. He can’t understand it; the vast difference he sees in Jungkook in the last couple of months blows his mind. He’s known Jungkook since they were kids. But now, Suga feels like he doesn’t even know him, not since you came into the picture. 

“Does it matter?” Jungkook sighs. He knows it does. “What happened?”

“We got a lead and needed backup.” Suga says. 

“Did you get him?” 

“What do you think?” Suga yells over the phone. “He got away, you fucking idiot.” 

“I said I was busy, didn’t I?” Jungkook fumes, keeping his voice down so he doesn’t wake you.

“Dude, what is up with you?” Suga’s voice is calm now. It’s even more worrying when he’s not yelling. “Last night, you were talking about not wanting to be captain. Is this what it’s all about? Y/N? What exactly are you trying to do here? Get married to that bitch, have kids and live a normal life? Do you seriously think that’s gonna happen?”

“Don’t. Call her. A bitch.” Jungkook clenches his teeth, trying not to let his anger get the best of him. But he knows whatever Suga’s implying is true. Being part of the organisation they’re in makes things complicated. 

“You think you can just waltz out of this establishment without any harm coming your way? You know too much already. And you don’t think that if the guys find out about your girl, they’re gonna come after her? It’s just not realistic Jungkook.”

He steps to the door of your room, watch as you sleep soundly, blankets covering your form. 

“Look I seriously don’t give a fuck about you having a girlfriend.” Yoongi clicks his tongue. “But I’ve seen her. She’s not about this life, is she? If you think she can handle it, then hey by all means you can do whatever you want. But you can’t even pick up my calls when I need you, you’re missing work...this isn’t going to work out. You need to make a choice. Are you in, or out?” 

Jungkook steps away from the door and over to the small window in the living room, overlooking the street below. He thinks, silence on both ends of the call. 

You stir from your sleep just then, feeling warm. The heater must be up too high. You roll over to switch it off, then realise the empty spot where Jungkook's supposed to be. There's no light from under the toilet door, so you look for him outside. And you find him, standing by the window, a hand on the window pane with his forehead against it, and the other holding a phone to his ear. 

“I’ll do it.” You hear him say. You were about to go up to him, but curiosity gets the better of you and you wait for him to finish. “You can trust me.” 

It’s all he says before he exchanges greetings with the other person on the line and hangs up the phone. He sighs, dropping his arm to the side, forehead still leaning on the window pane. You go up to him before he turns and finds you standing there. He jolts in surprise when you walk up to him and wrap your warm arms around his waist. His skin feels cool, probably from standing at the window, which means he must have been there for a while. 

“What are you doing?” You mumble with your cheek pressing against his back.

“Baby, why are you up?” He asks softly, turning around to hold you. “I had to take a call. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Oh.” You say, looking up at him sleepily. “Do you have to go? Don’t go.” 

“I’m not going anywhere baby.” He slides the window down and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him. He carries you back into bed and crawls in right beside you. “I’m gonna stay right here. With you.”

"Good." You hum, settling nicely in his arms. 

"I love you." He whispers into the night and it's the last thing you hear before you're drifting away into a deep sleep where you dream of him. 

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Idle Chat with Kiro

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a feature which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The CN server was recently graced with a new feature called 随便聊聊 (“Idle Chat”), where you can select a mood and talk to the love interests about work, life, and studies :>

Idle Chat with: Gavin / Lucien / Shaw / Victor

[ WORK - Topic 1: Overtime ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: We can visit that dessert shop today! Because I. Don’t! Have! To! Work! Overtime!

Kiro: Although we’re separated by the screen, I can sense Miss Chip’s happiness~

Kiro: Since this is the case, our challenge today will be to--

Kiro: Wipe! The! Dessert! Shop! Clean!

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: Went to work feeling muddle-headed today, which left me with a stack of incomplete work. Sigh, I might have to work overtime today.

Kiro: Did you spend too much time watching dramas last night?

Kiro: Next time, you have to stick to a regular sleeping timing.

Kiro: Also, isn’t the male lead by your side?

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: The market hasn’t been good lately, so the income I received has also gone down. I feel like I’ve left everyone down...

Kiro: Back then, MC went through such difficult times.

Kiro: I think these little twists and turns don’t account for much!

Kiro: Because you’re always producing miracles!

-

[ WORK - Topic 2: Income ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I’ve received my pay~ I even have a bonus this month! Aren’t I incredible?

Kiro: As expected of Miss Chips!

Kiro: As a reward, I’ll give you a present.

Kiro: Want to know what it is?

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: I have no idea why, but I haven’t been interested in anything I do. Could it be because it’s a long time till payday?

Kiro: Mm... want to consider changing occupations and becoming my assistant?

Kiro: You’ll be paid daily.

Kiro: Also, there will be an additional, exclusive Kiro hug every day.

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: Working overtime again and again and again and again! There’s even a rainstorm outside! The most enraging thing is that I didn’t bring an umbrella!

Kiro: I checked the weather forecast beforehand

Kiro: So I knew there’d be a rainstorm

Kiro: Give me five minutes - I’ll be there soon!

-

[ WORK - Topic 3: Program Progress ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: Do you still remember the collaborative program I mentioned before? We plan to invite a mystery guest. Want to guess who he is?

Kiro: I’m guessing he is -- Kiro!

Kiro: If Miss Chips doesn’t invite me,

Kiro: I’ll be very hurt.

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: The reaction from the other party regarding this collaborative program seems bland. Actually, I also find the content a little boring. I have no inspiration at all...

Kiro: In my eyes, everything Miss Chips does is very interesting.

Kiro: But if you really have no inspiration,

Kiro: Need me to help you grab it back?

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I’ve already made over thirty amendments to the proposal for this collaborative program. What more does the other party want?! What do they mean by a “vibrant black”??

Kiro: Oo... a vibrant black...

Kiro: It does sound like a difficult operation.

Kiro: Maybe it’s the same thing as how Apple Box’s jet-black eyes are bright even at night?

-

[ WORK - Topic 4: Program Results ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: The program I’ve been working on for months has finally gotten approved! If I were to continue doing it, I’d probably have gone bald... Should I place an order for hair-growth shampoo?

Kiro: Instead of hair-growth shampoo, I think what you need more is sufficient sleep.

Kiro: Or a limited-edition Kiro hug?

Kiro: I’ll decide on both of them on your behalf~

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: My daily self-reflection -- Has the program been approved? Not yet :(

Kiro: My daily self-reflection -- Do I think about Miss Chips?

Kiro: Always. 

Kiro: Miss Chips, do your best!

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: Good news. The program I’ve been painstakingly working on for several months has been rejected. :)

Kiro: Whenever my albums get delayed, I’ll take Apple Box out for a walk.

Kiro: Since Apple Box doesn’t have a slot recently,

Kiro: Why don’t I take you out for a walk instead?

🌻

[ LIFE - Topic 1: Losing Weight ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I've reached my ideal weight! I’m really happy~ I can finally toss away the salad that even Apple Box dislikes.

Kiro: Although I didn’t think you were fat before,

Kiro: What’s most important is that Miss Chips is happy!

Kiro: P.S. You’ve stopped eating snacks recently - Apple Box and I are both very upset.

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: A sincere question - If your weight remained the same after dieting and exercising for a week, would you choose to feast ferociously on crayfish or barbecue? 

Kiro: Since your weight is so disobedient,

Kiro: Let’s punish it fiercely!

Kiro: Why don’t we have barbecue along with crayfish!

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: Why is it that every time I indulge in extravagant eating and drinking, I always scroll to a page showing models with incredible figures?! I’m once again putting up a flag to lose weight!!

Kiro: Promise me that you won’t go on a diet to lose weight.

Kiro: Effective exercise and a reasonable work-life balance is the correct way to do it.

Kiro: But will our weekly dessert day continue?

-

[ LIFE - Topic 2: Meals ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: Burp-- I had a buffet this afternoon, and I’m so full now. Let me secretly tell you that I had to support myself on the wall to get out.

Kiro: Hahaha, I’m also the same after a photoshoot,

Kiro: Wanting to stuff myself to the brim.

Kiro: Next time, let’s compete to see who is the true buffet killer!

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: I’ve entered a special bottleneck period - What should I have for lunch? What should I have for dinner?

Kiro: Mm... this is indeed a big problem which frequently stumps me.

Kiro: Want to watch a documentary on delicacies?

Kiro: You might be able to find some “inspiration” on what to eat.

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I was seized by a whim and did some cooking. When I changed the seasoning just slightly, I ended up creating a mysterious, indescribable taste...

Kiro: Mm... has your cooking magic lost its touch temporarily?

Kiro: That’s all right 

Kiro: Tomorrow, we’ll try again together. 

-

[ LIFE - Topic 3: Reading ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I came across a picture book today, and readers can use their fingers to make a dot in the book grow bigger or smaller~ It’s very adorable!

Kiro: I really wish Miss Chips were that little dot.

Kiro: That way, I can make you really tiny

Kiro: And store you in my pocket. 

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: There’s a book wasteland... Why can’t I find a single good book...

Kiro: Someone said that the most interesting book is a person’s life.

Kiro: Could the reason you’re unable to find a good book

Kiro: Be because your life is already very interesting?

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I’ve been keeping up with a web series, but the author said that he decided to go on a hiatus today after receiving negative comments. My spiritual nourishment is gone...

Kiro: Negative comments truly make people upset

Kiro: Want to leave an encouraging comment to the author?

Kiro: Tell him that there are many readers who like his work!

-

[ LIFE - Topic 4: Games ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: Ding-- Dear respected customer, your gaming partner has found another interesting game. If you wish to know the name of the game, kindly reply with a ‘1′

Kiro: Rejected.

Kiro: Hahahaha, I’m just teasing you.

Kiro: 11111!

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: Help... I’m stuck at the fifth stage of this riddle game. What do I have to do so the squirrel would release its hold on the key?

Kiro: There’s actually such a mean squirrel?

Kiro: Let me handle it!

Kiro: If it doesn’t work, I’ll let Cello catch it!

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: My hand slipped when I was playing a game today, causing the entire game to restart :) Don’t stop me - I’m going to chop off this troublemaking hand!!

Kiro: An urgent appeal to spare your hand!

Kiro: Think on the positive side,

Kiro: We now have another thing we can complete together~

🌻

[ SCHOOL - Topic 1: Progress ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I've prepared a studying schedule, and am filled with confidence for this new life of studying! Kiro, please supervise me from time to time!

Kiro: Understood! 

Kiro: If you get lazy--

Kiro: Heheh, there’ll be punishment. 

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: I’ve been staring at my book for an hour in a daze. Why do I understand the words in isolation, but not when they are strung together?

Kiro: Mm... from a certain perspective, isn’t knowledge a series of code?

Kiro: Read them as though you’re playing a riddle game. 

Kiro: Perhaps you’ll find a way to pass the stage!

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: Why does my brain function so slowly the moment I start studying? Isn’t it very amazing when I play games?!

Kiro: I’d like to correct two mistakes Miss Chips made--

Kiro: Number One, whenever you get stuck in a game, you’d let me take over;

Kiro: Number Two, your brain isn’t functioning slowly. It’s just time to take a break.

-

[ SCHOOL - Topic 2: Homework ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: Because I remembered the reward you mentioned, I finished my homework really quickly today! What’s the reward, what’s the reward?

Kiro: I already said that you could definitely do it!

Kiro: As for the reward,

Kiro: Come closer, and I’ll tell you.

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: Whenever I do homework, it seems that aside from the homework, I become curious about everything else. Oh yes, do you think a dog sees itself as a dog?

Kiro: Miss Chips, concentrate!

Kiro: But for your question, I’ve asked Apple Box about it

Kiro: It responded and said...

Kiro: Bark!

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: A sincere question - can homework be done in stages? I really can’t finish it ahhh!

Kiro: Take your time, I’ll accompany you.

Kiro: Although I don’t know if homework can be done in stages,

Kiro: But my care for you is a fixed asset.

-

[ SCHOOL - Topic 3: Pre-exam Revision ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: The exam is coming up soon. It’s a good thing you supervised me and ensured that I studied seriously. The scope of the exam was also very clearly detailed by the teacher!

Kiro: I think you forgot the most important thing--

Kiro: Miss Chips’ own diligence and hard work.

Kiro: Miss Chips, all the best for your exam!

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: Memorising the examinable points is really difficult. It feels as though the moment I memorise a sentence, I forget the earlier one. How do you memorise the lines in your script?

Kiro: I have my exclusive Kiro memorisation technique of course!

Kiro: It’s exceptionally effective!

Kiro: If you want know about it, bring a bag of chips over to me~

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: When the teacher was pointing out the important segments, he said the first three chapters are the foundation, the following three chapters are important, and the final three chapters are examinable. Doesn’t this mean I have to revise the entire book!

Kiro: It takes a long time to revise the entire book.

Kiro: Do you need a Kiro exam buddy?

Kiro: It comes with a massage, milk tea delivery, and hugs.

-

[ SCHOOL - Topic 4: Post-exam celebration ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: The exam is over~ After comparing answers, there doesn’t seem to be any big issues! Kiro, who supervised me in my revision, is the best!

Kiro: Congratulations Miss Chips!

Kiro: Since I’ve rendered outstanding service, as a reward,

Kiro: Give all your post-examination resting time to me~

-

2. Mood: Upset

MC: The exam is finally over... I actually don’t feel very happy... Could it be because the final question was simply incomprehensible? 

Kiro: Hasn’t Miss Chips been looking forward to this day for a very long time?

Kiro: In that case, I have to find a way to cheer you up.

Kiro: Let’s laze on the sofa and watch your favourite movie. How’s that?

-

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I messed it up... I gave up on the last two questions... I think I’ve definitely messed it up...

Kiro: Maybe all the questions in front were correct!

Kiro: Also, one exam doesn’t mean much

Kiro: You’ll always be the smartest Miss Chips in my heart!

[jenomark]

Part 4- Final

➔Pairing: Idol!Haechan x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: Johnny ➔Genre: Smut (with a plot!) ➔Warnings: Angst ➔Word count: 4,549

➔Summary: He’s an idol, a friend, and now you’re taking his virginity. Beginning your friends-with-benefits relationship with Haechan wasn’t the best idea, but you just can’t help yourself when it comes to him.

↞ Part 1 ↞ Part 2 ↞ Part 3 

  You couldn’t stop looking through the pictures. When you finished scrolling all the way through them, you started from the beginning. You tried to imagine what others would see when looking at them. Could the pictures be passed off as only a friendly exchange? You didn’t think so, but you were trying so hard to think of a way to save things. You held Johnny’s phone, as if it were a hostage in your hands, and your finger hovering over the SEND button, like it were a trigger. Your message just said: Why??, but you knew you’d never send it. The person on the other end didn’t care what you had to say. It was their business to make money off of the backs of others, to screw up as many lives as possible while trying to justify their actions. Someone had sent the pictures to Johnny through text. How they got a hold of his number, you didn’t know and didn’t ask. You looked at the unknown number, reading each number to yourself, but it didn’t matter which person sent it, just that someone was trying to away the one thing that mattered to you most in the world: Haechan.

  While you were sitting there contemplating every avenue, Haechan and Johnny were arguing in the background. Haechan was walking back and forth, addressing Johnny without honorifics, his voice too shaky to be confident. He was fighting for you, for the both of you. His points were messy, but they were being made. You should have joined, but you couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the future and how much it scared you. You could fight Haechan to be with him, but you didn’t think you were ready to fight the rest of the world.

  Johnny had sat down at your kitchen table, his arms resting on his knees. His voice was deep and colorful, a few shades darker than Haechan’s. You hadn’t spent much time with Johnny, but there was something about him that made you feel intimidated. Like a child would, you kept waiting for him to scold you for corrupting someone he considered a brother. He could be angry with Haechan all he wanted, but you were the real infiltrator. If it wasn’t for you, Johnny wouldn’t have found himself tangled up in your mess. 

  While Haechan was hysterical, Johnny was calm. You could hear the disappointment in Johnny’s voice poking through your trance. You asked yourself if you really cared what he thought of you. When you couldn’t come up with an answer, you got a good look at him. Johnny looked at Haechan like he adored him. You could tell that he would always be on Haechan’s side, but Haechan would refuse to see it that way. It would be hard for him not to feel like Johnny’s worry wasn’t a personal attack.

   Haechan took many things to his heart. He liked to pretend he didn’t have one, but that heart carried more love than it could handle. You looked at Haechan, his face stuck with the same terrified expression as when he first came.

  He arrived soon after you called him, which felt like a testament of how much he cared for you, and that he meant what he said the previous night. He didn’t knock, just ran up the stairs to your rescue, skipping two steps at a time. When he reached the top, you weren’t waiting for him. You were sitting across from Johnny, in silence. Before Haechan arrived, Johnny asked you if you knew what you were doing. He was polite, but there was an edge to his voice. You knew he wanted to curse you out, to make sure you knew he wasn’t happy with you. You weren’t using your brain, truthfully. You were using other parts of your body until those were used up, and then, lastly, you used your heart. You were still using your heart when Haechan entered the room. You could feel the tug in your chest when his eyes met yours. He had wanted to hug you and kiss you, but he decided to stand as far away from you as possible.

“This is my life,” Haechan said, his voice getting higher. “I don’t care what anyone has to say about how I live it. If I have to face the consequences, I will. Happily. ”

“It’s not just your life,” Johnny said. “You have twenty other people attached to what you do. Your consequences become our consequences. I wish it weren’t like that, Haechan, but it is.”

“Stop yelling.” you said.

 You weren’t aware they weren’t yelling anymore. You looked up to see both Haechan and Johnny looking at you. Neither had paid attention to you since they started talking about the scandal. You were just another piece of furniture in the room, another box full of junk.

“I hate this.” you said.

  You erased the unsent message and placed Johnny’s phone on the couch cushion next to you. Somehow, you had found your way to the couch, but you didn’t remember how, or when. You were moving through life feeling as if your body and mind were separated. With both boys attention on you, you felt too seen, too spread out . You stood and paced around the room until you found yourself beside Haechan, your arm brushing against his. 

 “It was stupid,” Johnny said. “You both know that.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care.” Haechan said.

“Please,” you interjected. “Please, stop. This isn’t solving anything. Haechan and I are both adults. We entered a relationship knowing what we were doing. We didn’t need permission from anyone. “

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell Johnny.” Haechan said.

Johnny lowered his head. “Your relationship can’t happen. We can save this. We’ll tell them that you were just going on a date and that will be it. It didn’t work out. You decided you weren’t ready for a relationship. They can have the full press release, if they want. They’ll paint a nicer picture if you let them have control. As long as they don’t release all the pictures from last night, it will be fine.”

“A date back to his dorm?” you asked. “We were all over each other in those pictures. They’re not going to believe that story. They’ll want more. They’ll keep wanting more.”

“Not everything is how it appears,” Johnny said. “Everyone will deduce what they want.”

“We fucked on his bed,” you said. “We almost fucked on yours, too.”

“Baby.” Haechan warned.

 Johnny looked at Haechan like he was going to kill him. It was a low blow, you knew, but you felt helpless. You didn’t like lying, you didn’t want to pretend you didn’t like Haechan any longer, and you weren’t ready to let him go. The apologetic look on your face should have been enough to tame Johnny, but he stood up and groaned.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Johnny, all the times I’ve met you, I’ve always liked you. You have a good head on your shoulders. I trust you. I know Haechan does, too, but I think this is where we have to stop listening to other people and start listening to ourselves. I don’t feel comfortable giving those assholes any piece of my life.”

  Johnny shook his head. “And if it affects his career? What then? If you don’t care about his brothers, care about him.”

“Johnny,” Haechan said. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

  The anger dripping from Haechan’s voice made your head snap right. He reached for your hand and held it, his fingers clasping tightly around yours. Haechan stood firm, his chin jutted outwards, and his chest puffed out in a display of bravery. He looked silly standing up to someone so much bigger than him, but your heart swelled with pride.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny apologized.” This situation is fucked up. I’m stressed out. It will look bad if it’s done any other way. If you tell them to fuck off, those pictures will be released. Whether you like it or not, they’ll hold this over your heads for a long time, and it will all be perfectly legal.”

  Johnny sat back down. Haechan’s grip on your hand relaxed a little. The three of you were in complete silence for a few moments, each thinking of what conclusion seemed to fit best. When neither man spoke, you licked your dry lips and tried to take your best shot at making a logical choice.

“What if we just came clean about everything?” you said. “ On our own terms, I mean. Haechan could release his own statement through the company. Would that be too crazy at this stage of his career?”

“Yes.” Johnny said.

“Yes.” Haechan agreed.

“But that’s the only sane alternative,” you said. “Pretending we’re nothing won’t make people back down. We’re not breaking up. We’ll never be able to step foot publicly again, not even for late night walks to see each other. I refuse to live like that, Donghyuck. If the pictures will come out anyway, we might as well be truthful about them. Unless you want to break up with me right here, right now, what choice do we have? "

“They don’t know everything,” Haechan said. “They can’t threaten us.”

“We don’t know how much they know,” Johnny said. He looked at you, his face warm and inviting. “Knowing them, they’ll have your whole background by now. The world will want to know who you are, what you do, why he chose you. You’ll be compared to other people and ripped to shreds, all because you didn’t give them the story first. They’ll start to question every intimate part of your relationship and will actively try to destroy it. Are you ready for that? Are you ready for people you thought were your friends to sell your secrets? Haechan, are you ready for people to turn on you?”

“Maybe they won’t,” Haechan said. “Our fans love us. They love me. They’ll understand. ”

“Haechan, your optimism can’t save everything, “ Johnny said. “ As much as our fans wish us the best, there are people out there who do not. We can’t forget that.”

“I know.” Haechan said.

  You used your free hand to rub your face. You should have woken up today feeling happiness, from your head to the tips of your toes. You looked over at Haechan. He looked younger when he was stressed, his cheeks full, and his eyes puffy. Feeling your gaze, he looked over and gave you a tight smile. That smile could keep you holding on for a long time, you realized. When you both turned your attention back to Johnny, for the first time, you could see him trying to understand what the two of you were doing together. His sympathetic gaze was real, and it kept you clinging to tiny shards of hope.

“Help me understand,” Johnny said. “I knew something was going on when you didn’t go on the date, Haechan. She was perfectly your type. I thought there was someone else, a little crush you weren’t telling me about, but I didn’t think it was her. When I saw you together last night, I knew trouble was coming.”

“Trouble?” you asked, the word slipping from your mouth like a swear word. 

“I love her,” Haechan said. “It wasn’t supposed to happen, but you know me, I never do what I’m supposed to do.”

“And you would risk it all, Haechan?” Johnny asked. “For her?”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” you said. “For fucks sake.”

“Yes,” Haechan answered, his words coinciding with your own.

“I wouldn’t let him do that,” you said. “Believe or not, his career is important to me. I do care about all of you, too. I don’t want any negative press, especially any that is caused by me.”

“That wouldn’t be your choice.” Haechan said.

Johnny laughed. There was no humor, only emptiness. “If you say that you’re not dating exclusively, and that you broke up, you might avoid all of that. Look at other couples who have done it. ”

“Yeah?” you asked. “Do you think any of them are happy?”

“Do you think you will be happy once you lose your job?” Johnny asked.” Last I heard, fucking a fellow employee isn’t exactly appropriate. Losing your job would be kinder than everything else that’s at stake. For all of us.”

"All I want is to be happy,” you whispered. “Why is that so bad, Johnny?”

“It’s selfish.” Johnny said. 

 Haechan let go of your hand. Everything happened in a flash. He moved across the room and kicked down the boxes that were stacked. Releasing his anger on the cardboard didn’t help, so he started punching your wall. The screams that came out of his mouth were desperate and raw. You ran to him, tears in your eyes, your hands reaching out for him the moment he stopped. He let you hold his bruised knuckles in your hand. Johnny hovered behind you, his eyes assessing the damage. You cupped Haechan’s sweaty face and kissed the tip of his red nose.

“He has to get that checked out,” Johnny said. He checked his watch and cursed under his breath. “Fuck. We have to go. We’re late for our schedule. We’ll talk about this later.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Haechan said.  “I’m staying right here until this is solved.”

“Haechan.” Johnny said, the authority in his voice not fazing Haechan one bit.

You turned to Johnny. “Get out. I mean, give us a moment, please.”

  Reluctantly, Johnny left your apartment. You waited until his heavy footsteps were down your stairs until you kissed Haechan. You ran your fingers through his hair, resting your hand on the back of his neck. You tried looking into his eyes, but they were glossy and unfocused. 

“You have to go,” you said. “Treat your hand, go to your schedule, and I will talk to you later. We don’t have to make a decision right now. We have a little time.”

“No.”

“Haechan, please.”

“No.”

  You breathed deeply. When you exhaled, Haechan’s lips were on yours. He pushed you against the same wall he had punched. You accepted his love and held him in your arms, your fingers roaming up his sweaty back. He cried, his body shaking with sobs. You kept trying to calm him down with kisses, with strokes, and with soft words, but nothing worked. He let himself go, crying out everything in one long breath.  When he was done, he rested his forehead on your shoulder, his body exhausted. You had never witnessed him cry like that, and it scared you more than anything.

“No.” Haechan said one last time.

  In the beginning of your relationship, sometime in the first two weeks, you and Haechan used to talk about what would happen if you were ever caught. Once, you came close to it when Renjun walked into a room unannounced. You and Haechan were making out, your hands getting well acquainted with each other's bodies. You were planning on getting down on your knees and sucking the life out of him, when Renjun walked in and saw both of you. Haechan pulled away from you in a flash, turning around to address Renjun and blocking you from view as best as he could. You stood in place, your lips swollen from his kiss, and your t-shirt stuck underneath the wire of your bra. It all happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to cover yourself. You thought it was all over then, that you would have to give him up, but Haechan saved the day.

“This isn't the dance practice room.” Haechan said casually.

  He threw his arm around Renjun and guided him out of the room. Neither man looked back at you, and according to Haechan, Renjun never asked what the two of you were doing in the room. It was easy for Haechan to believe in his friends stupidity, but you knew what kind of person Renjun was. He was too intelligent not to know what was going on. Renjun ignoring what was going on was a choice.

  So, when you had the conversation about what would happen if people found out, Haechan again, found it easy to believe in the best outcome. In the beginning, you found his optimism endearing. As you had gotten to know him, the way he took nothing seriously infuriated you. 

“No one will ever find out,” he had said. “I’m invincible. “

 Getting to know him even better meant knowing Haechan’s cockiness about the possibility of being caught was fake. Deep down, Haechan was nervous about his members, his friends and fans finding out. He disappeared for too long at times, he always smelled like your perfume when he came home, and he was beginning to divert every strain of his attention in your direction. It was amazing that no one called him out for months, and that it took a team of strangers to do it first. 

  There was never any plan in place because you thought you never needed one. Haechan had convinced you of that over time, or maybe you were just blinded by love so deeply that you forgot about the repercussions. Or, like Renjun, maybe it was your choice. You liked him so much that you didn’t care if someone caught you or not. 

  If it were up to you and only you, you would give the world the truth. You would publish the pictures yourself, complete with a statement about how things were going to progress. You would not be afraid to live your life. Haechan would not be bullied into leaving the group, and he would not cower under pressure from the public, or the media. Although it was easy for you to come to this awareness, it was much harder when you weren’t the public figure in question. You could easily scrape by, maybe deal with a little bullying about your past pictures on social media, your weight, and strangers questioning your intentions towards their idol boyfriend. You could tune it all out and live in bliss. It was Haechan who would feel most of the blow back, and when you thought about how much you truly did care for him, you didn’t want him to go through all that.

   After Johnny and Haechan left, you laid on your bed and thought about the smartest decision. You considered calling Renjun and asking his advice, but you weren’t comfortable with dragging more people into the mix. Instead, your anxiety was making up story lines that didn’t exist in your timeline. You felt guilty for bringing him into your life, for wanting him so badly that you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. You even entertained the idea of breaking up with him for his benefit. You didn’t mean it, and it wouldn’t be easy to hurt yourself again, but you could save Haechan and the twenty other men standing behind him.

  You pulled out your phone and tried texting Haechan, but he didn’t answer. You didn’t like not knowing what was going on. After he got his hand checked out, he sent you a picture of his bandaged fingers followed by a quick ‘I love you’. That was the last thing you heard from him. During schedules, you expected him to be busy, but time seemed so precious when an answer was needed before sundown. 

  You looked at your phone and counted down the hours until it was time to give an answer. You opened up your messages again and willed him to text you, to tell you which path he was going to choose. Around 4 p.m., Haechan finally texted:

Haechan: My hand really hurts.

You: Where have you been? I’ve been worried. Please talk to me.

Haechan: I’ll talk to you soon. I have to take care of some things first. I love you. 

  Haechan avoiding your pleas made you feel worse inside. You dropped your phone down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. You thought about if you were worth it or not. Maybe Haechan was deciding that you weren’t, and that’s why he couldn’t get back to you with an answer. If ghosting you was kinder, you couldn't blame him for it. The self-pity was pulling you to sleep, its sweltering hot arms crushing your ribs. You had nightmares about wandering the streets of the city, camera flashes blinding you, and hands pulling at your clothes. You called out Haechan’s name, but you couldn’t find him. You kept running and running through the throng of people, your hair flying in all directions, your body feeling like it was being torn apart. You woke up in a pool of your own sweat, your bedroom dark, and the only source of light coming from the street lamp outside. You checked your phone to see one new message.

Haechan: It’s over.

  You stared at the message so long that the screen went black. You felt like you were going to be sick, felt like his words were a fist being shoved down your throat, ready to rip out your insides through your mouth. It’s over. You expected the break-up message, expected him to make the best choice for himself. You did not expect that you would feel completely broken inside by it. Before you could message him back, another message came through:

Haechan: I’ve never been more scared in my life.

  You were getting ready to reply to his message, with all of your heart and tears, when you heard your front door open and the sound of the city curling itself up on your doormat. You sat up in bed and felt the hammering in your chest quicken, felt your mouth go dry. You heard his voice first, its high lilt drawing you in. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he called out. “I’m not sure my hand can take another beating. I’m not sure my heart can either.”

  You got out of bed and ran out into your living room. Haechan had finally reached the top of your stairs. He was wearing one of his stage outfits underneath his jacket, having come right over after a performance. With a wave of his bandaged hand, he let out a little chuckle. You were confused, lost, and ready to cry.

“I think a part of me will always be so scared,” he said. “But I know you’re here with me. ”

  Haechan touched his hand to his chest. The way he moved his hand made him wince in pain. You watched him look down at his feet and shake his head slowly. You knew he was having a moment to himself, a little sliver of time where he was willing the world to stop so that he could figure out which words to use.

“I know that everything is going to be okay.” he whispered.

 Without meaning to ruin the moment, you looked at the clock. The deadline had come and gone, time having slipped away from you once more. Which decision did you make? Haechan followed your eyes and sighed. Looking back at him, you were surprised to see him smiling genuinely. Your eyes traced his teeth, the fullness of his lips. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asked.  “Every time I try to think of a different outcome, of things I would differently, I realize I don’t care. It’s always just been me and you, and I think it will be me and you for a long time.”

  You walked into his arms, your body sinking into his like quicksand. Haechan kept his arms by his side and let you hold him, his nose breathing in your scent as if he were afraid he’d forget your smell. In the darkness of the apartment, it felt like the outside world did not exist. You pushed it away, pushed it back so far that its eyes couldn’t see either of you. There was no one waiting for you to respond, no hurt feelings, and no secrets. For the night, you were free. You held Haechan for awhile, basking in the quiet, your fingers moving up and down his spine.

“Tomorrow,” Haechan whispered, his lips by your ear. “The whole world will know about us.”

 You pulled away and looked into his eyes. You needed to know if the decision he made was solely his. Haechan’s face gave away nothing, but the way his body was closed up with fear told you what you needed to know. You took his arms and wrapped them around your waist. You kissed his lips, pushing past them until you were inside of his mouth.

“Ahh,” Haechan said, his familiar cockiness briefly returning. “You can’t resist me.”

You laughed lightly. “ Can anyone? ”

“No,” he said, pleased with himself. “I don’t think they can.”

  As if he were exhausted of holding it together all of the time, in the privacy of your space, Haechan let his shoulders roll back. The muscles in his face relaxed to reveal his boyish looks, and he allowed his hands to shake with fear, if that’s what they needed to do. He hung his head, let any tears race down his cheeks. You wanted to wipe them away and hear him talk about what happened, but he deserved to go through the motions. You would be there for him every step of the way. 

“Do you want to know everything that happened? Haechan asked. He wiped his nose and sniffled. 

“That conversation is for tomorrow,” you said. “All I need to know is that you’re happy.”

“I am,” he said,” I am happy now.”

 Haechan took your hand and pulled you in the direction of your bedroom. Not for sex and not for talking. You laid down with him in the dark, your bodies next to each other, and your hearts beating in succession. As the clock ticked past midnight, Haechan reached for your arm to drape over his body. You held him more tightly than you had ever held him before. You kissed the back of his neck and smiled when he pulled away because it tickled. Listening to the sounds of him eventually falling asleep made you feel at peace. You only hoped his dreams were kind to him.

   You woke up the next morning to Haechan snoring lightly beside you. You covered him with a blanket and kissed his cheek. Sleepily, you pulled yourself out of bed to look out of the window. The world outside was still and unassuming. You gave one last look at the life that granted you anonymity before turning back to the man you had fallen in love with.

  You found out later that Taeyong made a deal with the people leaking the photos. As long as Taeyong showed up when they wanted him, the photos of you and Haechan would never be leaked. Haechan talked it over with his members, each one making it clear that, ultimately, they would support whatever decision he made regarding his personal life. On his own terms, Haechan decided to tell the world about your relationship. Though it scared you both, you knew you always had each other.

[carols-review-box]

My Thoughts on Ginny & Georgia: Season 1 

These are my thoughts.

Right off the bat, I want to address that this is, by no means, a comprehensive review. I’m not even sure if it can be called a review. These are just my thoughts on the show, and it may or may not cover everything (in fact, it most certainly won’t cover everything), and I’ll try my best to write it out in an organized manner, but I can’t make promises. (Though, in all fairness, this is just a blog for my own entertainment, and I don’t expect anyone to actually read it.) 

Now, moving on. Ginny & Georgia, season 1. Where do I begin? 

First Impressions 

I first encountered Ginny & Georgia on Netflix when the website decided to auto play its trailer while I was scrolling through it. I watched--almost begrudgingly-- a short, 1 minute clip of Ginny complaining to her teacher about how all the books on the curriculum were written by white men. While I understand where Ginny was coming from, and while I understand that a lot of high school literature is written by authors who sometimes are not representative of their audience, Ginny’s introduction just came off as obnoxious and annoying. I thought, “Imagine moving to a new school, and that’s the first thing you say to the teacher.” I rolled my eyes, wrote the show off as another try-hard feminist woke piece (or something like that), and didn’t think I’d watch it. 

Well, at some point, I obviously decided to give the show a try. And by the middle of the first episode, I was actually really surprised when Ginny didn’t turn out to be insufferable in the beginning. I say in the beginning-- because her character really slides downhill past a certain point.

Plot 

Throughout the entire show, I was probably a thousand times more interested in Georgia’s plot than Ginny’s. 

It makes sense-- Ginny’s plot is... well, pretty much a generic teen soap opera that I’ve seen hundreds of times before. There are some unique themes to her story that I’ve rarely seen portrayed in other shows, like her experience as a biracial person, but other than that, it seems to be your run-of-the-mill drama. 

On the other hand, Georgia’s plot is fresher. I haven’t personally seen any black-widow narratives (if Georgia could be called that), so I was intrigued and curious by how her story would play out. Not to mention, I liked Georgia’s love interests far better than Ginny’s, but maybe that’s just my personal taste.

In comparing these two plots, I do feel like the writers did Ginny wrong. Georgia is given an interesting storyline with a relevant backstory and plot points that actually make sense, whereas Ginny’s story is mediocre, we rarely get to see her side of the past, and half the stuff that goes down in her life is either unrealistic and overdramatized or it just makes no damn sense. 

Characters 

I could probably talk a great deal about the characters in this show. I have the most to say about Ginny (75% of it is criticism, honestly), so I’ll dedicate an entire section to her later. For now, I’ll start with these characters:

Georgia: Georgia, oh Georgia. To put it simply, Georgia is a psychopath hidden behind a large smile and a buzzing Southern accent. For the first 5 episodes, I was so fooled by her act (and her beauty) that I forgot she’s a literal murderer and most likely not a good human being. But I guess that’s, in part, what makes her very interesting to watch. 

Hunter: I literally felt nothing but a mixture of boredom and pity whenever Hunter was on screen. For the first 8 episodes, he is just an extraordinarily boring character-- and his boringness is used as a justification by Ginny to cheat on him (that’s where the pity part comes in). I enjoyed how how he got more character in the ending episodes, and I could understand his struggles when he fought with Ginny (in that scene). But if he wasn’t dating Ginny, then he would’ve been a completely forgettable character.

Marcus: Marcus ALWAYS looks like he’s high. I don’t think there’s a single scene in the show where he doesn’t look like he just smoked something. He also has little personality, other than being the “bad boy.” I guess his hotness makes up for it, or something?

Maxine: While I enjoy Max overall, I think she can be really annoying, talkative and insensitive at times. Emphasis on the last part, because she does this irritating thing where she says something racist, and then asks if she just said something racist. 

Abby: Out of the friend group, I feel like Abby is the most dramatic without being overdramatic. She experiences things that a regular teenager would. However, she can be a bad friend at times, and I don’t like how the characters gives her a pass on some questionable choices she makes. 

Paul: I like Paul. It is a little bit hypocritical of me to say Paul is a good character when he basically has the same exact personality as Hunter, but I’m going to say it: He’s a good character.

Zion: Zion is smooth, and I enjoy his little wisdom bits with Ginny. But he was introduced too late into the show, and I can’t see him being a good fit for Georgia. 

Joe: I love Joe. Just like some of the other characters, he is kind of plain. Kind of vanilla, daresay boring, but for some reason, I love him. Maybe it’s because of his adorable connection with Georgia. Maybe it’s because he offers some much-needed comedic relief in this overdramatized show. Maybe it’s because he has attractive qualities, like running a “successful” business, or maybe he’s just my type. For many, many episodes, I wanted Georgia to get together with Joe the most. 

Austin: I forgot Austin existed for half the time. Like, I know the kid stabbed someone, but in the grand scheme of things, he’s just so forgettable.

Character: Ginny

Ginny. Ah, where do I even begin with Ginny? 

First, I’m just going to say this: I know the writers intended to depict a biracial person’s experience in America through Ginny. I’m not biracial myself, and I don’t fully understand the issues that biracial people go through, so I’m not going to comment too much on how the authors managed to fuck up. I say “how” and not “if,” because a lot of biracial people have said that Ginny & Georgia is kind of a bad example of their life, and also because even I can see the problems with the show from a mile away. 

Getting that out of the way, I’ll start with Ginny’s overall character. 

One would think that a character who is depicted as-- for a lack of better words-- as “woke,”... as in, a character who is supposed to have better moral values than others (the definition comes from the word’s general connotative interpretation from leftist media), would be a good human being. But time and time again, we see that Ginny is everything but. 

These are my biggest issues with Ginny’s character:

1) She acts like she’s better than everyone else, but also like she’s super oppressed. I know these two personality traits aren’t mutually exclusive, but they’re not a good combination either. 

2) She thinks she’s the only person in the entire town who has real issues. Other characters confront her about this, and she eventually mellows down, but it’s astounding to me the amount of people she had to offend before she got the point.

3) She can be really ungrateful and rude towards her mom. I know Georgia is not a perfect mother-- not even close-- and she can be genuinely crazy at times, but Ginny is very rarely appreciative of her mom’s efforts. 

4) Despite Ginny’s intelligence, she is not smart. She commits a bunch of dumb mistakes. Now, some of these can be attributed to her just being a teenager-- like having unprotected sex, sending nudes, being peer pressured into stealing, etc. Whereas other choices-- most notably cheating on her boyfriend-- are just a product of her shitty personality.

5) There is a really bad implication concerning Ginny’s views on race. I can probably talk a lot about race in this show, but true to my word, I’ll keep this short and talk about the one thing that really bothered me: Ginny ignores the black kids. There’s a line in the show where Ginny says she’s too white for the black folks and too black for the white folks... and she uses this to justify never having any friends or not fitting in. But when she gets to Wellsbury, she’s accepted by everyone, including black people, yet she chooses to ignore them. She only sits with them near the end of the show when her friend group kicks her out. And she looks miserable. 

Ginny likes to complain a lot about her white side, but all things considered, I think she has an issue with her black side instead. I don’t know if this is representative of the biracial experience, but I imagine this can’t be a good thing to portray on screen. 

I know it’s crazy of me to say this right after I just ripped Ginny apart. However, despite everything, I actually like Ginny as a character. Do I like her as much as I like Georgia or Joe? No, but she swings more good than bad. What can I say? She’s entertaining (in the same way that Cheryl from Riverdale is entertaining). She’s at least somewhat relatable, and I wouldn’t have watched the entire season if I truly found her to be unbearable. 

That being said, Ginny does have a lot of potential to grow, and I sincerely hope the writers do her better in the next season. 

Themes 

*At some point in the future, I may add more to this section.  

Family: Despite a significant portion of this show being terribly unrealistic, I appreciate the show’s overall depiction of family and separation. For one, the show represents families who aren’t stereotypically nuclear. Our main protagonists are a single mother-daughter combo. The Bakers next door have a deaf father and a mother who doesn’t fit into a perfect mold. There’s a biracial family (Hunter) who connects far more with their American side than their Taiwanese-- so much that Hunter and his sister don’t even speak a lick of Mandarin. The small details and nuances which are added into the show makes them far more representative of the general American population. 

Conversations: This show gives conversations that are far overdue in media. While Hunter and Ginny’s fight scene is 98% pure cringe, the remaining 2% of it is an important reminder on being biracial (or a person of color) in America. Many of us struggle with our racial identity, and it’s unproductive to compare who has it worse. 

Overall + Rating 

To me, the first season of Ginny & Georgia is a 6.5/10. (Five being the average; so this would be a little better than average). While it showed a lot of potential at the beginning, the show eventually devolved to nothing more than a standard melodrama-- even on Georgia’s part. It tried hard to be another Gilmore Girls but ended up falling quite short. I am looking forward to its second season though; and hopefully, it’s much better than the first. 

[cakesunflower]

No Need Convincing Me [Tattoo Artist!Calum AU] Part 1

Summary: Elodie Banks hadn’t expected to get so caught up in her best friend’s tattoo artist. But all it took was one meeting with Calum Hood for Elodie to feel herself drawing towards him and the ink on his skin. Maybe once she was rid of a miserable relationship and the insecurities that came with it, she’d allow herself to realize that Calum was just as wrapped up in her.

A/N: This mini-fic is most likely going to have 6 parts in total, or so that’s the plan so far. I’m really excited for this, and it’s very loosely based off the song Dark Side by R5. Happy reading, friends!

All Parts: Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Part 1

The sound of Elodie’s nails clicking together overpowered the dull buzz of the tattoo gun going off in the parlor over, hidden by a wall separating them, or the faint music playing as her brown eyes took in her surroundings. The black walls had posters up, ranging from art work, band posters, and grids of minimalist tattoo designs, while the three walls of the parlor, save for the entryway only separated by the rest of the shop by a curtain, had a counter running the perimeter of it with various instruments for tattoos and piercings. Elodie’s nose tickled with the faint smell of antiseptic, and as she took in the many instruments lying about, she found herself liking that everything was neat; every item had its own place where it sat, not at all haphazardly strewn about.

Though, she figured if this place didn’t have as good of ratings as it did, Dominique would never frequent it.

Her best friend sat comfortably, familiarly, on the black leather chair as she scrolled through her phone, only looking up when Elodie’s clicking began getting out of hand. Putting her phone down, Dominique tilted her head and mused, “You know I appreciate you coming, El, but if you’re nervous—”

“I’m not nervous,” Elodie instantly cut in, her words accompanied by a gentle breathless laugh that wasn’t all too convincing. She couldn’t lie—she did feel a bit out of place in the tattoo shop. Elodie was fond of the long, flowing floral dresses she often wore, but in this moment, she felt like an unwanted splatter of color in the all black of the shop.

She watched as the fond smile quirked at Dominique’s full lips, green eyes that were vibrant against her chocolatey skin flickering down to Elodie’s hands. “You’re clicking your nails,” Dominique responded, as if that was a strong enough fact to back up her side. It was. Elodie had the habit of clicking her long nails together when she felt even the slightest bit anxious.

Once Dominique pointed that out, Elodie placed her hands on her knees, offering a reassuring smile. “I’m good. Just hungry.”

Her friend eyed her for a few more seconds before smiling. “It’ll be quick, I promise, and then we can stuff ourselves with Shake Shack.”

Elodie grinned, not at all opposing that idea, just as footsteps could be heard on the other side of the black and red curtain, the rings on top zinging as it was parted to show who was stepping in. Elodie looked away from Dominique, eyes on the newcomer, feeling whatever she was going to say to her friend die in her throat at the sight of the man entering.

“Hey, Dom, good t’see you again,” the guy spoke, dark brown eyes on Dominique as he offered her a small smile. And then his gaze shifted to Elodie, who was staring up at him from where she sat on one of the spare tools, and his eyebrows raised. His eyes remained on her as he said to Dominique, “And you’ve brought a friend.” He held his hand out, one that had a couple of letters tattooed on the skin between his thumb and index finger. “Calum.”

He spoke lowly but in a slight accented voice, and Elodie hadn’t known someone’s voice could have her stomach twisting unexpectedly until she heard Calum speak. The deep timber of his voice, hinted with a rasp, tickled Elodie’s chest as she forced herself to lift her hand and grasp Calum’s, hers feeling incredibly small in the warmth of his, heat spreading through her as he grasped onto her hand and kept his eyes on hers. Brown met brown, his dangerously dark, and Elodie wondered if it was possible to quite literally melt under someone’s gaze.

She somehow found her voice, only just enough to say softly, “Elodie,” as Calum shook her hand.

He offered her a nod just as he let go of her hand, and Elodie was unnerved at the coldness she felt at the lack of his touch, forcing a shy smile as Calum hummed, “Nice to meet you, Elodie,” as he moved past her to where Dominique lay.

Elodie’s eyes followed him as he walked past, his footsteps heavy with his Docs, and she used the moment of his gaze being elsewhere to take in the sight of him before she could help herself. She watched the pocket chain attached to his black pants dangle as he bent a bit, reaching between his legs for the vacant stool and dragging it towards the work station before sitting down. As Calum settled, Elodie noted the tattoos decorating the skin of his left arm, consisting of words and artwork alike, and she told herself she was admiring the ink rather than the muscles under his skin.

He shifted, and Elodie’s gaze snapped up to see Calum’s eyes on her, and a fire erupted in her cheeks at the knowledge of Calum having so obviously caught her admiring him. Guilt made her want to say that she was just looking at his tattoos, which was plausible, but mortification had her pressing her lips together and quickly averting her gaze.

Elodie remained silent as Calum and Dominique conversed familiarly before he started prepping for her tattoo. She’d shown Elodie what she was getting, an outline of a scorpion for her horoscope on the back of her arm, which she thought was fitting for Dominique. She watched, a fly on the wall, as Calum adjusted the chair Dominique was on before she shifted positions to lay on her stomach so it was easier for Calum to work, and Elodie found herself pressing her lips together and sucking in a mute breath through her nose when the tattoo gun in Calum’s gloved hands started buzzing.

Elodie wasn’t quite sure how long this would take, but she found herself getting lost in the process. She had tried desperately to focus her gaze on Dominique’s skin as the ink was gunned onto it, but she found herself wincing at the sight of the needle on Dominique as if she could feel it on her own body, and so her gaze began wandering to the man doing the tattooing.

At one point, from where she lay, Dominique said, “El, hold my hand so I know you haven’t passed out.”

Calum had taken that moment to draw the gun back to wipe at Dominique’s skin, his gaze flickering up to look at Elodie as she got up from her stool. She tried not to notice the small smirk that upturned one corner of his lips as she mumbled almost childishly, “I’m not gonna pass out. Jeez.”

She moved to the other side of the table Dominique was on, grasping onto her best friend’s hand—for whose comfort it was for, Elodie didn’t know nor care because in this new position, she had a better view of Calum working. Because she couldn’t watch the sight of ink against skin—instead, her eyes went to the man doing the work.

There wasn’t an intense look of concentration on Calum’s face, as Elodie had expected. In fact, he looked calm as he worked, dark eyes fixated on what he was doing, only the subtlest furrow between his eyebrows. His hair was too short, buzzed, to get in the way as he kept his head ducked to work, and Elodie could feel herself getting dangerously fixated on the way his tongue would occasionally poke out to wet his lower lip, forcing herself to avert her gaze when her heart thudded against her chest guiltily.

Yet her eyes would draw back to him, lost in the buzzing sound of the tattoo gun and the focus on Calum’s face, unable to look at anything else but him. Elodie’s gaze only broke when Calum eventually finished and the gun was set down, grabbing a handheld mirror to show Dominique as he held it above. Elodie found herself leaning over a bit as well, tucking locks of her light brown hair behind her ear as she gazed down at the tattoo.

Her eyebrows raised, taking in the neat linework, Dominique’s dark skin having some undertones of red where it was irritated, though Elodie figured that would ease. She’d seen her friend’s other tattoos before, but this was the first time Elodie was looking at it just done, the first time she was looking at the man who did it, and she found a smile quirking at her lips.

“What do you think?” Dominique asked, tilted her head a bit to meet Elodie’s gaze, who grinned in return.

“It’s beautiful,” she answered honestly, watching as Dominique’s grin widened and they both looked at Calum, who looked equal parts proud and smug at his latest artwork. Elodie knew he had the right to be. She always admired other people’s tattoos, but she’d never really given much thought to the ones who do them; it was incredible.

Calum’s eyes met Elodie’s upon her voicing her comment, and her smile turned shy as he kept their gazes locked while preparing to wrap up Dominique’s tattoo. It wasn’t long until they were done, and soon enough Dominique was giving Calum a hug before he led them towards the front area of the shop. Elodie noted a tall blonde they hadn’t seen when they walked in earlier lingering by reception, chatting up with the pretty brunette sitting behind the glass desk that displayed more small tattoo designs as well as jewelry for piercings. But she kind of recognized him—Elodie had seen him in one or two of Dominique’s Instagram posts.

“Dominique!” the blonde greeted loudly, a friendly grin on his face. “Was hoping to see you—you’re coming Friday night, right?”

“Ashton’s gonna be there—of course she is,” the brunette behind the counter spoke with a teasing grin, and Elodie watched Dominique shoot her a playful grin before rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Dominique answered with a laugh, throwing her untattooed arm around Elodie’s shoulders and pulling her shorter friend into her side. “And I’m bringing this one with me. El, this is Luke and Sierra, and this is my best girl, Elodie.”

She shyly returned the greetings from the two people, though Elodie wondered what the hell Dominique was talking about. There had been no mentions of anything going on Friday night, though she supposed that was in true Dominique style. Her best friend had the habit of ambushing Elodie with plans to get her to go out more, and while Elodie was fine with grabbing dinner or just spending time in general with Dominique, the latter had the habit of keeping certain plans to herself until the last minute because they involved bars or clubs. Those weren’t typically Elodie’s scene, but she ventured because Dominique was always at her side. Not always, though.

Elodie zoned back into the conversation just as Dominique said, “Alright, we’ll see y’all on Friday. We gotta grab some food.”

She sounded her goodbyes before heading towards the door, and Elodie offered the three of them a friendly smile of her own as she voiced her own, “Have a good night.”

Luke and Sierra reciprocated the sentiment and Elodie’s gaze trailed over to Calum, who was leaning on the counter with one elbow, though his eyes were on her. He was watching her intently and Elodie couldn’t help but get the feeling that he was reading her. Her stomach flipped, wondering what could be going through his mind, a muscle subtly working in his jaw before he returned, “Good to meet you.”

Elodie left shortly after, letting out a breath as she stepped out onto the sidewalk and the door to the shop shut behind her. She was briefly bathed in the neon of the shop sign before following Dominique, though Elodie found herself glancing over her shoulder at the tattoo parlor. H & H Tattoo and Piercing.

“What—you couldn’t stop staring at Cal and now you wanna ogle at his shop’s sign, too?”

Dominique’s playful words had Elodie’s head snapping forward, so fast that Dominique feared for her friend’s neck, while a heated flush spread across Elodie’s cheeks. She gaped at an amused Dominique as they continued walking, and Elodie tightened her grip on the strap of her bag as she swallowed the nervous lump that had formed in her throat. “I wasn’t staring at Calum!” she denied, only barely stumbling over her words.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” Dominique hummed, lips upturned into a knowing smirk as she glanced down at a flustered Elodie. “He’s stupid hot.”

Elodie bit the inside of her lower lip, fighting the urge to instantly voice her agreement. Stupid hot was putting it lightly. But before Elodie could venture into the dangerous territory pertaining to thoughts she shouldn’t be having, she shot her friend a look. “You know I—”

She didn’t even have to finish as Dominique waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” she relented with a disappointed huff of a breath. They crossed the street and Dominique dropped the conversation, instead telling Elodie, “But, yeah, you’re coming out with me Friday night.” With a grin, she added, “You can finally meet Ashton and not just through FaceTime.”

Elodie let out a gentle laugh at that as a breeze blew by, the material of her long dress flowing as she walked. She wasn’t even going to try to talk herself out of staying in on Friday night—because she didn’t want to. Dominique had started seeing a guy, Ashton, at the start of August, just a few days after Elodie and her family left to London for vacation, and she’d heard all about the guy Dominique met while out with friends who was, to put it in Dominique’s more free-spirited terms, the best fuck she’d ever had.

And try as Dominique might to just show it off as some casual fling, Elodie could tell by the smile on Dominique’s face and the way her bright eyes light up at the mere mention of Ashton that he meant a lot more to her than just someone she was passing time with. She liked him and Elodie, for one, couldn’t wait to meet the man who’d so easily managed to put a crack in Dominique’s tough exterior.

Even if it meant coincidentally hanging out with Calum.

*****

“So does my best friend have your approval?”

Calum wasn’t quite sure what pushed him to spark up a conversation with Elodie, much less what pushed him to sit on the stool next to her right when Dominique had excused herself. But the second he saw that Elodie would be sitting alone at the bar, he muttered something incoherent to Michael before his feet began moving him closer to the bar. He slid onto the stool before anyone else had the chance to do, placing his near empty glass on the bar top as the clink of glass coming in contact with wood was lost amidst the loud music playing.

It was warm in the bar, the lights providing a blue and purple hue, and the people dancing off on the side where the DJ was set up only added onto the heat Calum could feel sticking to him. Still, his leather jacket hugged him snugly, the alcohol only adding onto the warmth, and yet none of it mattered the second Elodie had followed Dominique into the bar. He’d been sitting on the couch, chatting with Luke and Crystal, before his eyes had moved past them and towards the door, as if Elodie’s presence was a magnet to draw his gaze towards her.

He’d felt his tongue press against his lower teeth at the sight of her, pretty and sweet in high waisted black shorts, a lacy white bodysuit underneath a sheer black and floral full sleeved top, and Calum was surprised at the itch in his fingers to run them through her long hair. He didn’t know what to do with the thought that she reminded him of a fairy. Or a mermaid. Except for give himself a fucking slap in the face because what the fuck was he thinking about? Never had he compared a girl to a fucking mythical creature—he couldn’t even claim to be drunk or high to excuse the ridiculous thought.

Calum’s throat had dried when Elodie smiled at him, small and shy and stunning. Yeah. Maybe she was a fucking fairy.

Elodie looked at Calum upon hearing his words and he fought the urge to focus on the way her glossed lips were wrapped around the straw to sip at her Long Island iced tea. Eyebrows raised, he thought for a moment that she was more focused on him sitting down next to her than what he said, which he resisted the urge to smirk at, before Elodie blinked. “Oh, uh,” she sounded before letting out a quiet laugh. Calum strained to hear it over the music playing. “Yeah, I think he does.” Then, to Calum’s surprise, Elodie leaned in just a bit, prompting him to do the same as her brown eyes met his, and she said through a conspiratorial smile, “But don’t tell Dom I said that; she’ll just deny their relationship.”

She pulled back with a giggle, the softest sound Calum’s ever heard, and it took him a moment to sit up straight as his eyes remained on hers, fighting the need to clear his throat as he shot her a lazy smirk. “She does that with you too, huh?” he raised an eyebrow. “Thought Ash was the only one in denial.”

Elodie gave a shake of her head, though her smile told Calum she was amused as she pulled her glass towards her. “They might just be perfect for each other,” she mused before pulling the straw back to her lips.

He watched the sweep of her lashes as she gazed down at her drink, and Calum once again had to look away from Elodie as he downed the last bit of his drink. All he wanted to do was stare at the girl sitting next to him, yet somehow, the action felt wrong. Like staring at her the way he wanted to wasn’t good enough—like she was too sweet for a stare like his on her. And Calum was completely bewildered by the desire to just look at her; he’d felt it when he first met her at his shop, and that was the first time Calum had found himself really needing to keep his gaze on his work, fighting the urge to look at Elodie when he could feel her gaze on him. She watched him, just like he was trying not to watch her. He didn’t understand why it was so maddening.

Gesturing for the bartender, Calum got himself another drink, exchanging his gin for whiskey, and despite his mind screaming at him to walk away, he turned his body ever so slightly towards Elodie. He rested his Doc clad feet on the low bar of his stool, elbow on the bar top as he asked, “Dom said you were in London this past month. How was it?”

The urge to punch himself right in the jaw overwhelmed Calum as he gritted his teeth. What the hell was he doing? Since when was he one for small talk? Since when did he care enough for it? He wanted to cringe at himself, down a few more drinks to drown out the mocking voice in his head repeatedly telling him he was being an idiot, but then his eyes met Elodie’s once more. She looked surprised at his inquiry, like she didn’t think he would ask her anything of the personal nature, and he didn’t blame her. Calum didn’t think so, either; but apparently his mouth had a mind of its own. When it came to her it seemed, at least.

“Yeah, it was fun,” Elodie responded, lips curling ever so slightly in that shy smile. He fought himself from mirroring it, his own mouth remaining in a straight line as the bartender brought him his new drink. “I think it might be one of my favorite cities,” she added wistfully, finger trailing the rim of her glass as she glanced at him. “Have you ever been?”

Calum licked his teeth after sipping his drink, the smoky whiskey tickling his throat in the way that he liked. His rings clinked against them glass as he held on to it, noting the way Elodie’s gaze flickered down to the sound. “A couple of times. My sister lives there, so I try to visit when I can.”

Her eyes met his, the brown of her irises glittering under the lights, and suddenly the alcohol in his system was sizzling at the smile she wore. She did that a lot—smiled. He’d only seen shy and small ones, probably because she wasn’t entirely comfortable with him yet, but Calum knew her real smiles, the ones that carried every inch of joy she could feel, would knock him right off his feet. His grip on the glass tightened. What was wrong with him?

“I wish I had siblings,” Elodie said, almost sadly, as her gaze dropped to her glass. “Being an only child is . . . Boring.” She had hesitated, and Calum figured it was because she’d wanted to say something else instead of boring. Lonely, maybe. With a gentle laugh, one Calum heard over the music, she added, “But Dom’s always been like a sister to me, so I don’t think I’m missing out on too much.”

For a second, Calum felt the urge to lie to her. To tell her that being an only child wasn’t too bad, that having siblings was overrated. All for the purpose of making her feel better, to rid of that lamenting smile on her face that hid a dull ache she failed to hide. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, to tell her a lie, because he didn’t know what he’d do without his sister. More importantly, Calum couldn’t figure out where the fuck the urge to lie to her came from. A tiny white lie, but one nonetheless in the hopes of making her feel lighter.

Why did he care?

But before he could even open his mouth, an arm draped over Elodie’s shoulders as a man came to stand on her other side, and a frown instantly drew together Calum’s eyebrows at the way Elodie’s eyes widened at the unexpected weight and she tensed when she saw the face of the man. Calum’s shoulders straightened, free hand ready to snap the guy’s arm off, until the guy leaned down and pressed a kiss to Elodie’s lips with an easy greeting of, “Hey, babe.”

Calum hoped to keep the confusion off his face, one that quickly morphed to realization as Elodie straightened and looked away from Calum to look up at the guy. He could barely hear the soft tone of her voice as she returned, “Hi—I didn’t think you’d make it.”

The guy scoffed, still standing as he raised his eyebrows. “You kidding? You barely wanna go to bars—I’m taking advantage.” It was then when the guy’s green eyes shifted over to Calum, expression turning into a guarded, suspicious one as Calum eyed him down. He was dressed in navy blue pants and a white button down tucked in, looking as if he just got off the clock on Wall Street, with blonde hair gelled back and an expensive watch on his wrist. Calum held back a snort. He looked like a douchebag. “Who’s this?”

“Oh.” Elodie blinked, turning to look back at Calum, a small smile tilting her lips as their eyes met. Calum returned her gaze, tearing it away from the man whose arm was around her shoulders, pretending as if it wasn’t the most forced sight he’d seen. She looked uncomfortable. “This is Calum, my friend.” He quirked the subtlest eyebrow at her, wondering if her cheeks flushed under the lights as she ducked her gaze. They were friends. And judging by the look on the dude’s face, Calum saw that he didn’t seem too keen at the news. “Calum, this is my boyfriend, Nathan.”

Calum wanted to laugh. He truly did. He wanted to laugh out of confusion and pity, because the way Elodie was suddenly sitting with straightened shoulders that were being weighed down by Nathan’s arm told him how unwanted the touch was. And when he looked at Nathan, Calum noted the way he stood over Elodie, domineering and possessive, and if Calum was someone else, maybe he would’ve felt a fraction of intimidation. Instead, he just wanted to laugh. And tell Nathan to fuck off. But it wasn’t his place.

“Good to meet you, Calum,” Nathan said, his tone holding no niceties as he eyed the brunette blankly. Then his gaze flickered downwards before asking, “Mind if I steal your seat? Been a long day and I wanna sit with my girl.”

Calum wondered if he’d imagined the pointed, possessive tone Nathan spoke in, like he had more of a right to sit next to Elodie than Calum did. It was laughable, the jealousy Nathan was failing to hide, and Calum looked at Elodie then, who was pursing her lips and had her head ducked, gaze only lifting briefly to meet Calum’s. She looked small. Timid. Much more so than before.

Grabbing his glass, Calum planted his feet on the floor before standing up, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from Elodie to look at Nathan. He smirked, noting the way Nathan had to look up at him just a bit as Calum was a couple of inches taller than him. If he didn’t already dislike him, Calum would be impressed by the stony look on Nathan’s face. But Calum got bad vibes from this dude, and so he kept the condescending smirk on his face that seemed to throw Nathan off.

Though, the smirk fell off Calum’s face as soon as he turned his back to them and walked away, exhaling sharply through his nose as he went. He didn’t know what it was, but in that thirty second interaction, Calum wasn’t impressed with that Nathan guy.

He found himself at the other end of the bar, far from Elodie and Nathan, and Calum stepped up to Dominique’s side as she leaned forward against the bar, Ashton on her other side. Calum dropped his arm around her shoulders, catching both her and Ashton’s attention, and asked, “What’s up that dude’s ass?”

Dominique lowered her glass, shooting Calum a puzzled look before he nodded his head forward, and she and Ashton both followed his gaze until they landed on the sight of Elodie and Nathan. Calum watched as they engaged in a conversation—or, as it seemed to him, as Elodie was left listening to whatever Nathan was saying. Even from where he was, Calum could somehow pick up on the fact that she was desperately trying to be interested, but wasn’t actually.

Dominique let out a frustrated groan, her shoulders under Calum’s arm tensing as her expression contorted into a glare. “For fuck’s sake,” she grunted, the curse nearly drowned out by the music. They were right by a speaker. “Why is he here?”

Calum raised an eyebrow, placing his glass on the bar as he dropped his arm from her shoulders and folded both of his on the bar top. “Maybe ’cause he’s her boyfriend?”

He could hear the distaste in his own voice, earning a look from Ashton that he promptly ignored, as Dominique let out a scoff. “He’s a dick,” she stated matter of factly, green eyes narrowed into a glare at the man in question. “And Elodie deserves more than someone who forces her into a box.”

Calum looked at Dominique, the frown on his face returning as he swallowed a sip of his whiskey. He continued to grow warmer and warmer under the material of his jacket, but he didn’t care as he focused on his friend’s words. “Forces her into a box? What do you mean?”

Dominique let out a slow breath, bracing her hands on the counter as she twisted her lips to the side briefly. She turned her body ever so slightly to look at Calum, the aggravation clear in her eyes. “I know Elodie, and I know how fun and outgoing she can be around the right people. She’s a shy girl, and I love her, and I know she has more fun when she can be who she wants to be.” Her expression had softened when she spoke of Elodie, but then a scowl replaced it. “But when Nathan’s around, she becomes even more closed off than she is. She’s even more shy, if that’s possible, and he likes it that way. I think he prefers it when the only person she speaks to is him. I know for a fact he doesn’t like me, and Elodie is so fucking sweet when she tries to get us to get along. I just wish she wasn’t so hesitant on breaking up with the tool because I know she can be happier than she is.”

The frown deepened on Calum’s face after hearing Dominique’s words and the way she said them. No matter how loud the music, it couldn’t drown out the disdain and anger she harbored for this Nathan guy, and if he really was as much of a tool as Dominique was painting him out to be—not that Calum had any arguments; he could’ve come to that own conclusion himself—then Calum wondered why the hell was Elodie with him.  

His gaze turned to Elodie and Nathan as well, saw the way he spoke animatedly while Elodie listened—he wondered if that’s all their relationship consisted of; him speaking and telling and her listening and doing. That was shit. Unable to hold back the gruff sneer, Calum said, “I don’t like him.”

He heard Ashton snort out a knowing laugh as Dominique looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Why? Did he say something?” she asked, digging for some dirt Calum wished he had.

“No,” he scoffed because they knew if Nathan did, Calum wouldn’t be afraid to put him in his place with his words or fists. With a single shrug, Calum added, “He just looked annoyed when Elodie told him I was her friend.”

Dominique let out a sharp breath of a laugh, raising her glass and clinking it with Calum’s as she smirked, “You can be her new best friend if it pisses him off more. I approve.”

Calum’s gaze went back to Elodie, who in that moment, looked at him from where she sat on her side of the bar. He saw the smallest of smiles tilt at her lips, still shy yet sweet, a sight that warmed Calum more than his whiskey. He ignored the warning bells going off in his head and returned the half smile, easy and cool. If being Elodie’s friend meant pissing off Nathan and getting to know her more, Calum was up for it.

He ignored the voice in the back of his head, taunting him and wondering where the hell his interest in her came from. Calum ignored it, because he didn’t have an answer; there was something about Elodie, about the sweet smiles and kind eyes and gentle voice that had Calum needing more. Wanting to see what else was there.

He wanted to see the side of her Dominique talked about, the side Nathan tried to force away. Calum had just met her, he knew, but he could feel himself getting drawn in by the soft glow that surrounded Elodie. Yeah—he agreed with her. They were friends.

But that was only the first step.

--

tags: @irwinkitten @softforcal @valentinelrh @sweetcherrymike @astroashtonio @meetashthere @calntynes @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92​ @rotten-kandy​ @metangi​ @neigcthood​ @ohhmuke​ @old-zeppelin-shirt​ @5sos-and-hessa​ @trustmeimawhalebiologist​ @vxlentinecal​ @pettybassists​ @vaporshawn​ @lu-my-golden-boi​ @buggy-blogs​ @visualm3nte​ @isabella-mae13​ @dontjinx-it​ @lifeakaharry​ @neonweeknds​ @antisocialbandmate​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​ @calpalbby​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @gorgeouslygrace​ @cocktail-calum​ @miahelizaaabeth​ @madelynerin​ @dramallamawithsparkles​ @theagenderwhocriedwolf​ @kaytiebug14​ @hoodskillerqueen​ @bitchinbabylon​ @empathycth​ @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx​ @calistheloml​ @aestheticrelated​ @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac​ @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @fluffsshawn​ @bloodmoonashton​