#I wish I could stream so you could witness the panic in my eyes and voice

[togetherhearted]

My only issue with LoP is that there are no issue. It is my fault for being extra scared to leave the main hub because I am terrible at souls-like games 😅. I genuinely love this demo so far

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Baby

❥Yandere Park Seonghwa x fem reader

SPOOKTOBER SPECIAL

➯a/n: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent a healthy little and caregiver relationship, or a healthy relationship of any kind. this is messed up but i wanted to experiment with my writing and i think i succeeded. let me know what you think of this cause i would love love looooove to write more

✃ "You're my baby, say it to me." - Mitski, I Bet on Losing Dogs

✫彡wordcount: 4k

♡'･ᴗ･'♡(ಡ‸ಡ)genre: yandere, HEAVY angst

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: stockholm syndrome, mind breaking, spanking, mentions of bribery, mommy hwa (i cannot help myself)

⁂taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

✩index: little space; a regressed state of mind where one feels like a child. hyung; a name for an older male friend or sibling, used by other males.

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

    "I'm home, sorry I'm late!" Seonghwa called out as he entered the apartment, looking around the empty rooms. "Baby?" He peeked into the kitchen, dinner untouched on the stove. "San?" The living room, the news channel on mute. "Mingi?" Both of his roommates rooms, desolate.

"No!" Your shout calls him to his room at the end of the hall, followed by a clanging and a yell of pain from his friend.

"Baby?! Baby!?" He turns into his room in a panic, eyes wide as he witnesses the scene infront of him.

You're curled up in a ball in the corner of his bed- head in your knees- with San holding Mingis arm as he curses under his breath, one of your bottles on the floor at their feet. "Hyung," He turns quickly and picks up the bottle, pointing it at you accusingly, "she threw this at Mingi!"

"Baby, why would you do that?" He takes the bottle from San and slowly kneels on the edge of the bed, reaching for you.

You say nothing, only whining and kicking his hand away. So he turns his attention back to the younger members. "What happened?" He wants to scream at them, really. How could they make his Baby cry when they know everything he went through and continues to go through to have you as his own? But that would only make you more upset. You don't like when he raises his voice, so he keeps it calm. "Is she hurt?"

"Hyung... We really didn't mean to, we tried to-" Mingi is almost in tears, he truly feels for you. But it's been months. If he could have helped he'd of found a way by now. But they need Seonghwa. And some of the members wouldn't even dream of turning him in- even after what he's done. For selfish reasons maybe. But it doesn't matter why or why not. You've been stuck in their apartments for half a year. They'd thought all of your deficiency had passed. That they could pretend it was okay.

"What happened, Baby?" He turns back to you, gently touching your knee.

That little touch seems to make you snap. Screaming obscenities in his face as you go on and on about how you are not, in fact, his baby. You aren't his at all. You want to go home. You don't love him. You don't like San. You don't like Mingi. You don't like any of the members, actually. You don't like living here. You wish you'd never even met him.

All three of them watch aghast, jaws dropped as you yell insult after insult at them. Hot in the face and tears streaming down like a waterfall so harshly that they wet the collar of your baby blue dress and pool as a drop on your chin. You grab the little plushie that Jongho made with you and hurl it at Seonghwas face, hitting him on the nose.

He watches it fall to the floor and his eyes don't seem to move after that. He's forced to listen as you insult his character directly now. He's a insane person. He's a pervert. He's sick in the head. He's annoyingly overbearing. You loathe his guts. You wouldn't spit on him if he were on fire. You'd shoot him twice if you were in a room with him and a hungry tiger with only two bullets. You loathe his entire being. You aren't his Baby. You aren't even his girlfriend. He's delusional.

The words ring around his head hauntingly. You can't possibly mean those things. He takes care of you so well. He gives you the world and all he asks for in return is your love. And he's gotten it. At least he thought he had. He woke up with you by his side and went back to bed the same way. You gave him kisses on the cheek. You let him play with all of your favorite toys that no one else can touch. You let him bathe you and dress you. You let him do everything.

"Do you hear me?" You scream, throwing his neatly fluffed pillow at his already lowered head. "I hate you!"

The world stops in that moment, the millisecond that word slips from your mouth.

    It's silent in the room. In the apartment. Not only could you hear a pin drop—

    You can hear the single tear fall from Seonghwas eye and collide with the hardwood.

Both of them look at him. You look at him. He looks at the floor. There's a visible shift in his aura. He goes from unreadable to pissed in the blink of an eye. His shoulders tense up and his breathing gets shallow.

He stands up, almost robotically. He picks up his pillow and dusts it off, placing in back on the bed where it belongs. His gaze doesn't even bother to meet yours as you watch him with wide, fearful eyes. He grabs the plushie and sets it down as well. "...Get up. Bend over, Baby."

"Hwa, wait, pl-"

"Before I get the paddle."

He doesn't say anything else, glaring down at you as you move tentatively. After an incident with an unlocked window and some sheets resulting in you being dragged to Hongjoongs room by the ear, you don't even want to see the paddle. You had to sit on their laps or a pillow for two weeks straight, if memory serves you right.

    He doesn't reach to move you faster. He stands at the edge of the bed, deadly silent. He only intervenes when you look to Mingi and San beggingly. "You're not allowed to look at them anymore."

That was a rule when you first arrived. You only got that privilege a few weeks ago. You figured it was probably to make you feel distance to the fact that these were people, who could potentially help you leave him, and not just disembodied voices and lower bodies. A way to make you feel even more lonely. Even when they were so close that you could here their breathing.

Like now, Mingi lets out a few small sniffles here and there. Sans breaths sounds anxious. Like if he moves an inch that he will be next on his Hyungs list.

As you bend your body over the edge, they avert their eyes. They may be complacent with Seonghwas actions, but they will never cross that line. They, all seven of the younger members, promised it. Never touch you. Never take advantage of you. Never directly help Seonghwa control you in any way. In fact, most of them decided it would be best to help you however possible, without ruining all of their lives in the process. Getting you small gifts that Seonghwa pre-approved. Stealing you away to the other dorms for a movie night. Sneaking you an extra sweet or episode of cartoons when you were deep in little-space.

But there was nothing they could do when Seonghwa told you to do something. To go to bed early. To let him wash your hair. To give him a kiss. To suck on his thumb. To bend over.

So they could only look away with heavy hearts as he flips up your skirt and rips -quite literally- your underwear away. The sound makes Mingi cringe, your crying pleas for him make him want to disappear forever. "Ming, please, don't let him! I'm sor-"

Seonghwa doesn't even start easy on you, he smacks your bottom harshly, over and over again until your cheek is sore and aching all the way through to your hip. And then, for the briefest moment, you all think it's over when the loud echo of the smacks finally ceases. But that was only him moving to get a better angle on your other side.

    You cry loudly, and the sound officially makes Mingi cry. He lowers his head and turns his body away completely to try and distance himself from the abuse. San gently takes ahold of his pink in his own. It does little to comfort either of them, but it reminds them both of the pact that they made.

     All of their pinkies interlocked, a promise that they would do their best for their obviously challenged Hyung.

        Both of your cheeks bruising and hot to the touch, Seonghwa finally backs up. He moves his knees from their place on either side of you and lets you crumble to the floor in a pile of sobs. He stops briefly to pull your skirt over you half-hazardly before leaving you completely alone as you blubber into your arms.

     His palm is red, as angry as he was. He takes a deep breath as he takes a pump of lotion, rubbing it into his hands as he turns to the other men.

      "Tell me what happened."

    Mingi wipes his face roughly, straightening up as San speaks lowly, "we turned on the TV. We were going to watch a movie, but... but she saw it on the news before we could even change it."

    "What did she see?"

   "Her missing persons photo..."

✿

The door was locked behind them and there was no noise in the apartment. If you hadn't known better, you'd say they all left. But Seonghwa refused to ever leave you alone. Even when all of the members were busy. You either went with them or had a staff member watching you, one who'd coincidentally received a raise moments before.

You stayed right there on the floor for the longest time, sobbing and snotting all over the floor as you tried to calm yourself.

Oh, you really outdid yourself this time.

Even at his angriest, Seonghwa never left your side when there was a tear in your eye.

You knew he had no tolerance for that word. Hate. Ironically, you could say he hated it. Especially when it came out of your lips. You once said you hated the show he put on. He gave you a fourty minute lecture and three smacks to the behind.

And you just aimed it right at him. You meant to make him angry. And you succeeded.

Now, into the night, when he still hasn't returned, you start to wonder wether you snapped his last string of humanity. If he hated you just as much as you claimed you hated him. If he's out in the kitchen planning how to get rid of you.

Your body aches as you sit up, screaming at you as you crawl into the small pink tent in the corner of the room. It's placed on top of soft play mats and filled with baby-ish things that he insisted you needed every time he saw them. The softest blankets. The cutesy, most hug-able plushies. A small box of your favorite pacifiers and toys.

You untie the ribbon keeping the sheer fabric open and let it drape closed, as if it will shield you. Perhaps, in your fragile mind, it will. He never comes in here, only ever reaches in to grab the blankets to wash every other week.

You let yourself flop onto your side into the pile and find yourself sobbing all over again. Maybe, just maybe, in a fucked up, delusional way... Seonghwa does care for you. Maybe, just maybe, in his mind, he does all of these things because he believes it best for you.

You can still see Seonghwa in his room when he's not there. Maybe that's why you hate being cooped up in here. Always begging members to let you hang out in their rooms instead.

It's so neat. Even after the chaos of earlier. So color coordinated. Grey and white and warm lights.

You're the only exception. Toys and clothes and books strewn about in your little corner, just out of sight of his cam-corder.

   Maybe that's why you get so mad when you slip out of the little space he's built for you. You know you don't fit into his life seamlessly. You know the truth of your situation. So you may as well start making the best of it.

    With a groan of effort, you sit back up.

✿

   It's well past midnight when he turns the lock on the outside of his door. Which also means its well past your bedtime. You've become so well accustomed to it over your time together, he figures you've probably fallen asleep.  

       And he's right. He immediately spots you on his side do the bed, holding his pillow tight to your chest with your swollen eyes closed.

    A pant of regret hits him right where it hurts as he realizes just how much he made you cry. How much he made you hurt. His anger got the best of him, and it hurts his heart that deep down, he knows it won't be the last time.

     He's done it to everyone. His family. His members. Himself...

    His darkest thoughts reach out in the corners of his mind, saying that his Baby is better of without him. But he is quick to slap them away as he tip toes into the room.

    Somethings off, somethings different. Everything is in place.

    All of your toys and coloring books and short stories. All of your pacifiers and stuffed animals. They're on the shelf exactly how he puts them during his Sunday reset cleanings. All of your favorites are on the wall, your side of the bed. The multitude of blankets and throw pillows in your tent are folded and organized neatly. Your tears and snot have been wiped up. Your ripped panties in the bin.

    "Oh, my Baby," he whispers, immediately crawling into bed behind you and holding your back close to his chest, careful to avoid your bottom. He doesn't even want to fathom what he did to you... "My Baby..."

      He can't help but cry, though he tries to do so silently. He wants you to rest, you need it. But the smallest movement of the bed wakes you in your fragile state.

    When you stir, he expects you to crawl away. But you don't. Instead, you roll over to face him and shimmy into his arms. "Hey, sweet girl," he coos hoarsely.

     You were right, earlier. You weren't left alone in the apartment. San was sitting in the living room comforting Mingi as Seonghwa stormed off and went upstairs to Hongjoong. While they sat in silence, he screamed and screamed and screamed until he couldn't breathe.

     Eventually, Hongjoong and Yunho got him to calm down, and they talked and talked and talked. Yunho suggested, lightly, that you should stay the night with them. And then Seonghwa screamed some more.

     In all this time, your nighttime routine had never been interrupted. He had a very specific way the two of you did things before bed and he would have it no other way. In all this time, he's never let you out of his arms as he slept. Even that first night, you kicked and screamed and punched until you passed out. But you did so in his arms.

    "Mommy." It's a simple acknowledgment, but it calms him ever so slightly. He takes pride in that name. And it makes him happy you can still call him that after what he's done to you.

     "Are you okay, Baby?" He knows that the answer is no. But he'll give you the opportunity to speak for yourself. To tell him how to help.

     "Hurts," you sniffle as you press your face into his chest, " 'm hungry..."

     "Come on, Sweetpea, I'll take care of you."

    You koala hug onto him, arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he stands.

    And the nighttime routine starts now, a pattern of familiarity to calm both of your shot nerves.

    He gently sets you in your seat at the table, but not before pacing down a pillow he grabbed while passing the couch. It still burns even with the soft cushioning below you.

You eat in silence. Usually you would speak about your days, and the next one's plans. But there doesn't seem to be any words that either of you can find at the moment.

He rinses the dishes before picking you back up. No matter how many times you insist you can walk- he insists right back that his Baby must be carried. You pass Mingi on the way to the bathroom, and he gives you a small wave, his eyes bloodshot and his posture slumped. But he can't help the small smile that tugs at his lips as you wave back over Seonghwas shoulder.

The pillow goes down on the counter before you, and he starts your meticulous skin care. Your face wash, then his. Your toner, then his. Moisturizer, eye cream, spot treatment, the list goes on until your both brushing your teeth.

You will admit Seonghwa takes exceptionally good care of not only himself, but you as well.

He likes to massage your face after all is said and done. He says it's good for blood flow, which is true. But he does it for a few simpler reasons.

Your face in his hands. And a chance to admire you at the end of the day.

No matter how rough of a day it was. He could always count on this.

He cups your cheeks as he stands between your legs, massaging them gently. "My Baby." He whispers. So quiet you actually miss it. You're too busy melting into his affection. "You're my Baby." He speaks, however lowly.

"Mhm," you moan quietly, blinking up at him, not knowing what exactly he's meaning.

"Say it to me," he says. He pleads. His forehead rests on yours. Eyes growing wet as he uses your eyes as a window into your soul. "Please."

"I'm your baby," you whisper just as gently as he. Nodding against his head lightly. "I'm your baby, Mommy."

He nearly collapses as his shoulders finally relax. His mind flooding with happiness as he hears those words. You're all he's ever wanted. You're all he feels he truly has.

He knew it since the moment he saw you. So delicate, so beautiful and kind. He was overcome with an urge that he can only describe as a mix of pure love and anxiety. He loves you so deeply, how can he ever rest if he doesn't know for certain that your safe and taken care of? So he took matters into his own hands.

He's never felt it before. He knows he'll never feel it again. He will never. Never. Love someone as much as you. As much as his Baby.

You reach up and wipe his tears gently, the tiniest of smiles playing at your lips, "you gonna wash away all the stuff you jus' put on."

He can't help the chuckle that leaves him, leaning into your touch as it leaves a tingle on his skin, "you're right, Baby."

He gently, oh so gently, places a kiss on your lips before your routine resumes.

He leaves you to do your business as he goes to the living room and gathers your pajamas, and when he comes back he finds you all done, rubbing your bottom with a pout. "Oh, Baby, I'm so sorry! I forgot, it must have hurt on the toilet," a pout of his own forms as he crouches and rummages through the cabinet.

"Yeahm," you whine, watching him closely as he grabs a tube.

"Bend over, Baby." That simply sentence almost has you spiraling again before he reaches and rubs your head ever so gently. "It's okay, it's okay. It's numbing cream. Let Mommy put on you and it'll feel better, promise."

You hesitantly bend over the counter slightly, and are relieved to find he's telling the truth. He's barely touching your behind enough spread the cream, his touch is so light. But he manages to apply the treatment without causing you any more harm.

You know that this will be part of your nightly routine again when he sets the tube down with the rest of his products. It mocks you as you look at it. Knowing you'll have to hear those words over and over again until you're healed.

He helps you rid your dress and redresses you in one of his t-shirts before changing into his own pajamas.

As he carries you back to bed, you speak up while fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, "Mommy?"

"Yes, Baby?"

"Can sleep in my tent tonigh'?"

"Oh, Baby, you know I have to hold you to fall asleep. Baby can have a nap in there tomorrow, how about that?"

"No, Mommy too," you look to him with a pout as he closes the bedroom door behind you, "Mommy in the tent." You point to it as if he doesn't know what tent you're referring to, and it makes him laugh how adorable you are when you're so deep in little-space.

"Okay, Baby," he sets you down first and lets you crawl in, watching you with stars in his eyes as you curl up under the blankets and move to make room for him.

His feet poke out of the side even as he's curled spooning you, and he knows the sight is probably ridiculous. But it's very possibly the coziest he's been with you. The tent and the plushies inside of it smell like you. All of the soft blankets have accumulated into a weighted blanket of sorts and keeps you both warm in the cold October air. His chest pressed to your back and your numbed bottom snuggling back into his hips. Your soft, calm breaths luring him into a state of tranquility. He stays just like that, for a long time, it feels like. It almost feels like he's meditating. His soul being cleansed. He can see why you like it here-

Oh. Oh, he's really in here.

It dawns on him as he looks up. What is usually a white ceiling is a pink fabric just a few inches away from his face.

You invited him in.

Ever since he set it up three months ago, you made a strict 'BABY ONLY' policy. And you stuck to that. Not even Jongho, who was admittedly your favorite of his members, was allowed in. They were all confined to the play mat just outside.

But not anymore.

He thought after the pain he had caused, after the outside world had reminded you what he'd done, that your progress would be set back. That he'd back back to square one with a brat. But, you went ahead and proved him opposite.

You proved him that you are and will continue to be,

His Baby.

✿

[scarlettjemily]

Good Luck, Babe! Pt. 2.

PART 1 | PART 3

Description: Continuation of part 1. Emily confides in Garcia after JJ runs out crying. JJ goes home and tries to cope by getting drunk. No one has heard from her in a while and despite Emily being hurt, she goes to check on her anyway.

Tags: Slightly angsty, V sad Emily, V drunk JJ, Sober JJ is clumsy, wait until you see drunk JJ, mommmy prentiss taking care of JJ, Penelope being such a cute friend, mommy prentiss is mad at JJ but she can’t help the way she feels, drunk JJ is cute but also clearly has a problem.

Chapter 2/??

Not my pictures.

“What happened with JJ? Oh my god, Emily, what’s wrong?” Penelope Garcia burst into Emily’s office, panic etched across her face after she had spotted JJ leaving, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Emily jolted at the intrusion, quickly composing herself and wiping her eyes, but it was too late. “Not now, Garcia. Please leave,” she coughed, her voice trembling with the attempt to suppress her emotion.

But Penelope couldn’t leave; not after witnessing the distress etched on both her friends' faces. She had tried to catch JJ, but the woman had vanished before she could reach her. “I’m not going anywhere. JJ just stormed out, sobbing, and now I find you in tears too? We all know that when Emily Prentiss cries, something must be terribly wrong.” She settled into the chair JJ had just vacated, her heart racing with concern.

Emily forced a humorless chuckle, sinking into her office chair, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. “It’s so complicated, Penelope. You have no idea.” A tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek.

“That’s why I’m here. What’s going on?” Penelope leaned forward, genuine worry painting her features.

“It was me. I was the woman,” Emily whispered, her voice cracking as the weight of her confession bore down on her. Tears streamed down her face, and her breath hitched. “We slept together once. I don’t know how it happened, but I loved her so much, Garcia. I was completely in love with her, and she chose Will. She chose him and told me it meant nothing.” Rage flickered in her eyes, mingling with the hurt. “Then she walks in today, telling me she’s gay and that she did love me back then, but that she was broken.” Emily turned to Penelope, her pain raw and palpable. “She hurt me so badly. All I ever wanted was for her to love me back. And now she’s saying she did? Ten years? We could’ve had—something.”

Penelope was taken aback. She had been close to both women during that time and had never suspected a thing. The strength it must have taken for Emily to bury her pain was staggering. “I’m so sorry, Emily. I can’t believe you went through all of this alone. I wish you’d told us; we could’ve helped.” She edged closer, resting her arms on the desk, offering what comfort she could. “I know this happened a decade ago, but why can’t you both have something now? She’s left Will, she’s embraced who she is, and she confessed her love for you!”

Emily shook her head persistently, her hand lifting as if to put a wall up, blocking Garcia’s statement. “No way. I won’t let her hurt me again. I can’t trust her. How would I know she’s telling the truth this time? She’ll probably run back to Will, breaking my heart all over again. Nope.” Though the tears had ceased, her eyes remained red and swollen, reflecting her current emotional state.

Penelope wanted to scream in frustration, but she knew better. Her friend was in pain, yet all she could see was the possibility of love rekindled. “You won’t know unless you talk to her, Emily. She was really upset.”

Emily rolled her eyes, bitterness creeping into her voice. “Good, now she knows how I felt.” The resentment clung to her like a second skin. She wished JJ had never opened her mouth.

Meanwhile, JJ stumbled down the corridor of her apartment building, desperate to escape the weight of the conversation she had with Emily. Tears still stung her eyes, and she sniffled, wiping her nose as she unlocked her door and stepped inside.

The silence of her apartment was deafening. The bare walls and minimal furniture mirrored the emptiness she felt inside. She tossed her bag onto the kitchen counter and opened the fridge, the sound of clinking bottles breaking the heavy stillness. Grabbing a half-finished bottle of tequila, she contemplated a glass but discarded the thought, lifting the bottle straight to her lips. The burning liquid seared her throat, and she grimaced. “Ugh, fuck, that’s gross,” she muttered, heading to the lounge and collapsing onto the couch.

Hours later, JJ woke on the couch, sprawled awkwardly, her arm dangling off the side. The shrill ringing of her phone pierced the fog of her drunkenness. She groaned, hoping it would stop, but it persisted.

Flinging her leg off the couch, she used her hands to push herself up, stumbling slightly as the room seemed to tilt around her. She shuffled toward the kitchen where her phone lay, misjudging the distance to the coffee table and catching her foot. She fell, crashing onto the glass surface, the sharp sound of shattering glass filling the room. A scream escaped her lips as shards flew, some embedding in her skin. Lying on the ground, a low laugh escaped her—a bittersweet acknowledgment of her situation. She was grateful for the alcohol dulling the pain.

Eventually, she managed to rise on all fours, groaning as she crawled toward the kitchen, glass cutting into her hands and knees, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. She reached the counter, desperately grabbing her phone, which still buzzed relentlessly.

“What? What do you want?” she grunted, leaning back against the kitchen island, her head spinning.

“JJ, it’s Garcia. Where are you? Are you okay? You left hours ago and haven’t answered anyone’s calls! We’re worried! You didn’t tell anyone where you were going, and I kind of told Prentiss, and now she’s coming to find you. Please don’t hate me; I’m so sorry!”

JJ laughed, the absurdity of the situation hitting her. “Well great, Garcia, I’m drunk as fuck right now, and the woman I love is coming to my house.” Realization washed over her, and she corrected herself, “Loved, loved. I do not love her, but she’s gonna freak, Garcia. I kinda may have fallen and broken my coffee table, and there’s a lot of blood. You gotta call her and tell her to go.” She struggled to contain her laughter, knowing it was darkly humorous.

“Blood? JJ, what the heck happened?! Are you okay? I’m not telling her to go; you obviously need help! Do I need to call an ambulance?!” Panic flared in Garcia’s voice.

“No, no, don’t call an ambulance. It’s just a little cut—” JJ halted at the sound of a knock on her door. “Ah, fuck, Garcia, she’s here! You can stop freaking out now.” She hung up and tossed the phone to the floor.

Emily stood outside, dread pooling in her stomach. She didn’t want to be here, but she couldn’t ignore her concern for JJ. “JJ?! It’s Emily! Open the door!” She knocked urgently, her heart racing.

“I’m coming, hang on!” The drunk woman yelled. She stayed leaning against the kitchen bench, she couldn’t quite find the strength to get up. She drank half a bottle of tequila, there’s no doubt she was still trying not to completely black out.

“JJ?!” Emily’s voice came through the door, accompanied by more knocks.

JJ jolted awake again “oh” she chuckled; forgetting her boss was outside her door. “I’m coming, I’m coming” she used all her strength to drag herself up on her feet. Finally, JJ appeared, barely managing to keep the door open, the safety chain still in place. “Em, hi! What’s up?” Her heavy-lidded eyes and goofy smile betrayed her inebriation, but it was the blood—dark and smeared across her face—that sent a jolt of panic through Emily.

“JJ, oh my god! What happened?” Emily gasped, alarm flooding her senses.

JJ waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, nothing. Clumsy me, I just fell,” she slurred, squinting against the bright hallway light. “Sorry you had to come here; I’m fine, so you can go now.” She attempted to close the door, but Emily wedged her foot in the opening.

“JJ, you’re drunk. You’ve got a cut on your head that looks serious. Open the door so I can help you.”

With a dramatic sigh, JJ rolled her eyes. “Ugh, fine.” She shut the door briefly, then opened it fully, removing the safety chain. “Fucking Garcia,” she muttered, staggering back into the kitchen. “Welcome to my lovely home! Want a drink? I finished the tequila, but I’ve got vodka, whiskey, gin…” She opened the fridge and yanked out a bottle of vodka, twisting off the cap and tossing it aside. “Let’s have vodka; hope you don’t mind sharing the bottle.” She laughed and took a long swig, wincing as the liquor burned her throat.

“Hey, no, no! Put that bottle down!” Emily’s heart raced as she took in the chaos around her—glass and blood strewn everywhere. She rushed toward JJ, desperate to take the bottle from her.

“What? You got a problem sharing the bottle? We fucked once, remember? Now you care about saliva?” JJ tried to lift the bottle again, but Emily swiftly intervened, wrenching it from her grasp and hurling it into the sink, where it shattered, spilling vodka everywhere.

“What the fuck! That was my vodka!” JJ shouted, irritation flashing in her eyes, but Emily wasn’t backing down.

“Jennifer, you’re bleeding! My god, you’ve got glass everywhere.” She inspected JJ closely—blood trickling from her hands, knees, and staining her shirt. “We need to take you to the hospital.”

JJ pouted like a petulant child, her hands drooping to her sides. “No, Em, please. I don’t want to go. Can’t you just clean me up? Pretty please?” She looked up at Emily with a wide, almost giggly smile, her eyes pleading like a child’s.

Emily watched, concern tightening in her chest. JJ was clearly not in a good place. Guilt washed over her; she felt responsible for this reaction. “Fine. Your room now. Where’s your first aid kit?”

JJ smirked, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Oh yes, Agent Prentiss, I’ll go to my room now. The first aid kit is in the bathroom.” She stumbled away, a giggle escaping her lips that felt disjointed against the gravity of the moment.

As JJ disappeared down the hallway, Emily whispered to herself, “What the fuck?” A wave of anger had coursed through her earlier, but now all she felt was worry. How had she missed the signs of JJ’s struggle? This wasn’t like her at all; JJ never drank like this. The sight of her friend, so unlike herself, sent a chill through Emily. She had never seen JJ this way before, and it scared her.

[anakin-dovahkiin]

Hi! My favorite is Anakin x Fluffy Reader. I would like Anakin Rots , where he is anxious to meet his girl after a long mission. Something like Ani takes her on a date on another planet , Alderaan or Naboo .

Alpenglow (I've Missed You)

Summary: Anakin comes back from rescuing the Chancellor only to notice that you are stationed on Alderaan and not currently home. Obi-Wan pulled some strings so he could visit you, and in no time Anakin finds you. He decides to set up something nice for the both of you in the mountains, where you witness a beautiful sunset.

Notes: Thank you so much for the request! Reader can be GN, and can be a Jedi or senator or really anything, it's pretty ambiguous. I feel like Alderaan would be super pretty, and the "alpenglow" phenomenon would definitely happen here. Anakin is so soft and loves you so much!! (Warnings: None!)

You can’t believe how lucky you were to be stationed in Alderaan for the past couple of months, especially during the planets summer cycle. 

Coruscant is your home now, yes, but it was rather often that you wished to be outside in the mountains and trees amongst nature. You have every intention of making up for lost time while you are here, but each time you try to embark on a hike to admire the scenery, you feel as though you can’t go on. You don’t want to go just yet, knowing how much more your love would desire to be amongst all the greenery and streams and lush landscapes than you could possibly imagine.

A spike of fear runs through you. Anakin could be another few months on his campaign, and for all you know he could be—

You shake the thought from your head. You remind yourself to be mindful, to focus on the present moment, and count all the different songs of birds that you can hear in the grassy clearing where you sit and meditate.



Anakin is alive and well, you can feel it. You may have to suffer without his warm and enveloping presence for awhile yet, but as long as he was safe and working his way to you, you could bear it. 

You settle your heartbeat, taking deeper breaths to the point where you feel as though you are a part of the nature surrounding you—so much so that you don’t notice the footsteps behind you. 

“What are you doing all the way out here?” that melodic voice asks sweetly.

Your eyes snap open, and your breath rises in your chest so fast you feel like you might start floating. Turning around, you see your love, your Anakin, standing a bit awkwardly with the afternoon sunlight bathing him in a soft yellow glow. 

You scramble to your feet and launch yourself into his arms, and your embrace couldn’t be broken apart by even the strongest of forces. You were together, and the world felt like it made sense again.

“You’re here, you’re here, I can’t believe—” you whisper throughout the embrace, threading a hand in his hair and holding him impossibly closer. “How? Your mission—”

“I returned to Coruscant and you weren’t there,” he mutters against the skin of your forehead. You can still sense the thread of melancholy unraveling from him, but the longer he is here with you, the shorter and fainter the thread becomes. But there is something else—some of his panic remains, and you hear it in his voice. “Rescued the Chancellor, but the Council wanted me to spy on him even though Obi-Wan said ‘no’ and then he was sent away… Bail told me you were stationed here, and I wanted to leave, I needed to leave, everything was suffocating… but then Obi was able to grant me a leave for a week! Can you believe it?”

You pull away from him slightly, and he audibly whines. You keep your hands in his hair, only pulling back far enough to look him in the eyes as you speak to him. 

“That’s… a lot. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, I wish I had been… But I suppose I owe Bail and Obi-Wan now for granting my wish they didn’t even know I had.” You giggle, giddy with happiness because he’s here. He is with you, even though you feared the worst. To be honest, some irrational part of you still fears the worst. Your smile wavers, “Are you alright? Were you hurt?”

You caress his face, noting the frown there and wishing you could smooth away the creases with just a swipe of your fingers. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, and the two of you fall into an embrace once more. It is more gentle than the previous one but is no less intimate. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers, and it comes from the depths of his soul, through the Force, through every fiber in the fabric of reality. 

Without you, he would be lost.

“I missed you too, Anakin…” you say, and finally you angle his face down to yours for a chaste kiss. “Even here, where everything is beautiful, I could only think of how much more beautiful it would be with you here, how much you would love it.”

“The green?”

You smile, resting your forehead against his. “Mhm, the green. Your favorite color.”

He lets out a huff of a laugh, cupping your face in his hands. “I love you so much.”

Your smile is bursting at the seams. He’s said it before to you, but there is something about him being here with you in this setting that makes it all more potent. The landscape is stunning, and you feel some sort of longing in your chest become sated as you stand here with Anakin Skywalker in your embrace, protecting you from the galaxy but also giving you the whole galaxy with just those words.

“I love you,” you whisper, your eyes stinging and your vision becomes a bit blurry so you look down at the ground in hopes it would clear away. 

Anakin tilts your chin up to look at him, and this movement lets tears leak from your eyes. He catches them with his thumbs. “What is it?”

You feel slightly embarrassed—you’re grown, independent, but being reunited with him is like finding your childhood blanket that you lost forever. You have more faith in Anakin, know that he would survive the war, but the fear of losing him affects you more than you thought.

“I’ve missed you… I worry for you and I am so, so happy you are here with me.”

He grins. “I have something for you. I know how much you love the mountains, so I set something up for us…”

No way. “Stop! You did not—”

He grabs your hand and leads you through the brush until you reach higher ground and another clearing that lies above the treetops so you can see the snow capped mountains all around you, standing tall like they were keeping watch. 

It is sunset, and the light bounds from mountain to mountain, bathing the slopes in shades of purple, pink, and orange.

There’s a blanket laid on he ground with a bucket of your favorite snacks from your apartment on Coruscant.

“I was so anxious to see you, and I know how much you love relaxing at home, so I figured I would bring a bit of home to you!” He says, but then he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “At least, I think these are your favorite snacks…”

You both sit on the blanket, and you sit in his lap with your back pressed flush against his chest. 

You tilt your head up to press a kiss to his jaw. “This is my home. Right here. With you, and looking out at the alpenglow. It’s only so beautiful because you’re so beautiful.”

He smiles again, but scrunches his eyebrows. “‘Alpenglow’? I’ve never heard that before.”

“Well, now you have. You’re looking at it right now.”

You watch his sky blue eyes take in the blend of colors before you, and you savor the awed look on his face that is so innocent, so pure.

“You’re my alpenglow,” he says, flicking his eyes to meet yours. His gaze is electric, and you feel like your heart might burst from your chest once again. You know what he meant by that, and you love his affinity for trying to come up with strange metaphors. 

(You’ll never forget the sand one.)

You laugh. “I don’t think that is how you use the word, Anakin.”

“Well it’s how I’m using it. I am a Jedi, I’m always right.”

“Of course, Master Skywalker,” you say, doing your best impression of a Council-member. 

He chuckles, then nuzzles his cheek into the crown of your head. He lets out a long exhale, and all the tension from days, weeks, and months past escapes his body. You are together, you are safe, and you are grounded. 

You’re home.

[kermitism]

TW!!!!! SH!!!!!

And it was so overwhelming y'know. Every other thing on top of each other, it just became too much for me. And now im standing here, in the middle of my room, with blood streaming down my arms, deep cuts bleeding like waterfalls. I probably hit a vein. Warm blood pouring all over the carpet, i dont know how i am going to explain this to the brothers.

Four deep cuts on my left arm and two not-so-deep ones on the right, they all are bleeding and i watch it happen.

I was addicted to this, i was yearning for that sting in my arms and legs just like a little girl yearning love from her father. I was desperate to feel the cold sting and warm sadness. My tears were unnoticeable when i had another source of flow down on my forearms.

I heard some mumbling outside of my door. Shaking my head, trying to snap out of it, Mammon or Lucifer or Asmo or anyone could come in anytime. I pulled out some tissues trying to stop my bleeding but it was no use at all. Panic took all over my body. They can't know. They can't know. Theycantknowtheycantknowtheycantknowthey-

The noise outside stopped. So did the voice inside my head. It was dead silence for some time. Probably longer than i think. When i checked my arms again they were no longer bleeding. I trashed the tissues i used on my arms.

They were stinging like crazy, I look at my arms and tears start forming in my eyes again. what have i done to myself????? i was going to stop- what happened to me ijustwannadie.

The room smelled blood and so did i. I got up and light up some incense to have change of air. I feel disgusted by myself 

I touch the cuts, feeling them up as if soft touches gonna make them disappear.

I go to the closet put on a black hoodie so blood wont leave stains on it. Then kicked the carpet out of sight, ill clean it up later, if its possible. I check my surroundings. Nothing seems out of ordinary. No traces behind that proves i was miserable like a lonely stray dog minutes ago.

I definitely need stitches, i thought. Only if i was in human world, only if i was back home, itd probably be worse but at least id be alone, no one could witness my worst side.

I sat on my bed again, waiting for nothing, trying to get my thoughts together. While i was zoned out, the door shut open. ohnoohnoohno... It was Mammon, spotting me sitting on my bed quietly, and took a seat right next to me after closing the door.

"Are you okay? I feel like something bad happened so i came to check you. The room smells,,, like blood,,"

heknowsheknowsheknowsheknows

"Uhhh hah nothing happened why haha"

The smell of blood was surrounding the room, demons sensitive noses wasnt a need to notice it. The air was thick and none of us were able to speak up. Mammon knew something happened and probably others too.

The guilt start kicking in. I dont know what to do. I really wish i was dead at this right moment.

"Did you cut yourself?"

"No uh... yes i did im sorry."

Tears were flowing down my cheeks again. Mammon did a motion to wipe them away, that moment our eyes met. I wish to never see it again, he seems like hes about to die, so worried, so scared.

"Can I see them?"

"See what?

"Your cuts, we should go to an hospital."

I dont want him to see my wrists, not in this state, it was so bad i wouldnt be able to handle it, he would freak out so bad.

I still rolled my sleeves for him to see them, what else could i do, i do need to visit an hospital after all.

Mammon took my left arm, traced the edges of the cuts, he was crying silently. Then he got up, holding out his hand. I took it and got up then rolled my sleeves back down. He held my hand until we get in the car. No one saw us sneaking out. I hope they wont be angry at me tomorrow.

[lotusunset]

I caught a glimpse of her unmasked face today. Entirely unintentional.  I had gone to call on her, much later at night than usual. I suppose that is where my folly originated. 

My fist had hovered over the door to the room she had overtaken, infected with her very presence. I did not knock. She did not even properly close the door behind her.  A small stream of candlelight poured through the crack and my pounding blood quickly overtook my senses.

I was a wretched, horrible man. I could not fathom why this creature found it in herself to trust me. I could not resist the temptation. I peered through the sliver of the opened door and saw her within.

She stood with her back towards me, carefully brushing through her thick, white hair. I was mesmerized by the simple action, a far too intimate thing for me to witness her doing. As she smoothed her own fingers through her hair, I could not help but imagine my own hands repeating the gesture. Oh, to feel that silky texture in reality instead of my twisted imaginings would be too great a pleasure. 

A moment later, she was crossing the room to put her hairbrush back in its place.  As she turned, I saw her. A peaceful expression on her death’s head. Gentle. Breathtaking. A sight far different than the last time I had seen her bare face, a scene full of fear and pain etched into her pallid skin. 

An overwhelming surge of feeling filled my chest at the sight of her. I could hardly place what it meant. If it was disgust, it was directed at my own horrid behavior and not anything to do with her appearance. Fascination?  No, it was something far deeper, far more intense than that. Yearning. I suppose that was the best approximation I could concoct.

She spotted the crack in the door and for a moment, her eyes locked with mine. They widened and she gasped in horror. A hand flew up to cover her face as she turned her back again.

“Erik!” She shrieked my name, “Why didn’t you—Why are you–” She stammered. I was forced to confront my own indecency.

“There was…” I had entirely forgotten the entire reason I had come here in the first place, beyond simply wishing to be near her. “I had news to share, that’s all.”

“Give me a moment!”

I could hear her scrambling around the room. I assumed she was looking for her mask, that horrible scrap of silk. As expected, when she opened the door, the mask was covering her face. The feeling in my chest seized and turned to an unfathomable ache.

“Christine,” her name was barely a whisper on my lips.

“You had something to tell me?” She replied, I could still see the remnants of panic in her eyes. Did she think I feared her appearance? That I judged her for it, despite having seen her bare face before I had even learned her name? She did not trust me as much as I hoped. My stomach dropped. Each breath felt like fire as I exhaled. 

“It can, It can wait until the morning. I apologize for disturbing you,” I said, anxiously twisting at my cufflinks. Even if I had wanted to have an average conversation with her, there’d be no chance for that now.

“Oh,” her eyes fell. There was no mistaking the look of disappointment in those soulful, mismatched eyes. Maddening! “I’ll…see you tomorrow, then.”

She wanted me here. I needed to leave before I said or did something that I would regret. I stood there, helpless in her gaze. My hand reached towards her. She held her breath. I wanted to caress her snowy hair, trail my fingers along her delicate cheek and pull her closer. I hovered there in my indecision before allowing my hand to fall back to my side.

“Good night, Christine.”

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

Trying to get back into the swing of writing things. Did this as a warm-up/practice exercise. If you liked this, go read what I've got so far of this fic, Death is the Maiden. It's a role-reversal AU in which Christine has the deformity and Erik is a pretty boy. Please feel free to scream at me to get to writing the actual romance parts in the fic proper.

[girlkisser13]

ivy

"your opal eyes are all i wish to see" "he wants what’s only yours"

pairings: eloise bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings/tags: slight angst. jealous eloise. reader has a panic attack at the thought of marrying a man. SO REAL.

summary: when eloise suspects that you might receive a proposal from a lord, it leads to an unexpected confession from your ex best friend.

the queen's ball was resplendent with grandeur, every corner of the ballroom shimmering under the glow of countless candles. eloise, with her characteristic wit and a discerning eye, surveyed the opulent gathering. amidst the sea of vibrant colors and elegant figures, her gaze fixated on a you.

she watched as you twirled effortlessly in the arms of a lord. her eyes narrowed as she watched the two of you. jealousy, a foreign emotion to her pragmatic mind, clawed at her insides. despite the numerous times cressida attempted to draw her into conversation, eloise remained oblivious, her thoughts consumed by the sight before her.

it was well-known that the lord that you were dancing with was a wealthy and influential man. he had danced with you twice this evening, a clear signal of his intentions. he was undoubtedly smitten. eloise's heart tightened with each step the both of you took in unison, a dance that felt like a dagger to her chest. her hand clutched her fan with a grip that masked her inner turmoil.

cressida attempted once more to talk to her, eager to share the latest gossip. "eloise, did you see the new lord and miss y/n? quite the match, do you not think?"

eloise barely registered cressida’s words, her attention unwavering from you. "yes, quite," she responded absently, her voice devoid of its usual sharpness. cressida huffed in frustration and moved away, leaving eloise to her turmoil.

the jealousy burning within her was a foreign sensation, unsettling in its intensity. her mind raced, each thought more irrational than the last. what if he proposed? what if you accepted? the very idea was insufferable.

as the dance concluded, she watched him lead you to a quieter corner of the room, his expression earnest. eloise's heart pounded in her chest. she could not bear it if you accepted his proposal.

desperation laced her every thought as she strained to hear your conversation over the din of the room. his voice carried faintly, “…wish to ask you something of great importance.”

your face paled, stammering you said, “i am not feeling well, my lord. i require some air.” with a hurried curtsey, you excused yourself and moved swiftly towards the nearest exit.

eloise, propelled by an intense mix of concern and panic, swiftly followed. with her heart pounding in her chest, she found you in the royal library, clutching at your chest, your breaths coming in rapid gasps. tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you struggled to compose yourself.

“y/n!” eloise rushed to your side, her hands trembling as she took hold of your shoulders. “are you unwell?”

your distress was palpable. "eloise, i... i cannot breathe," you choked out, your hands trembling.

eloise gently took your hands in her own, her touch steady and reassuring. "calm yourself, y/n. breathe with me, slowly now." she demonstrated, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, guiding you through the process.

your wide eyes met eloise’s, and slowly, following her lead, your breathing began to steady. when the tremors subsided, you sank into a nearby chair, your tears finally spilling over.

you clung to eloise, tears streaming down your cheeks, "i do not wish to marry him, eloise," you whispered, your voice breaking. "i cannot."

a wave of relief washed over eloise, though she struggled to suppress the hope that bubbled within her. "did he propose, then?"

you shook her head, looking away. "no, but he made his intentions abundantly clear. i left before he could say more. why do you care, eloise? you made your feelings quite clear last season. you knew that i had asked penelope to write that column about you in lady whistledown, and you have been cruel and hateful to me ever since. you have yet to forgive me."

the wound from last season was still fresh. eloise had felt betrayed when she discovered you knew of penelope's secret identity as lady whistledown and had even encouraged her to write about eloise. you had told her that you simply wanted to protect her. however, she still felt exposed and vulnerable, and she had lashed out, creating a rift between the two of you.

eloise's voice softened, filled with a raw honesty she could no longer suppress. "y/n, i was hurt and i was foolish. but it does not change the fact that i care about you deeply. i have always cared, more than i should have allowed myself too. my feelings for you have not diminished, despite everything."

your eyes widened with surprise. "what are you saying, eloise?"

eloise took a deep breath, "i am saying that i love you, y/n. i cannot bear the thought of you with anyone else. seeing you with him, knowing that he could take you away at any moment, it made me realize that i cannot bear the thought of losing you, y/n. not to him, not to anyone."

your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you looked at her. “why now? why confess this now?”

“i could not live with myself, if i did not tell you. i have been a fool, y/n. my pride blinded me to what was right before me.” and… i plan to ask francesca if i might accompany her in scotland with lord kilmartin. come with me, y/n. let us leave all this behind and start anew.”

your breath hitched. “you would do that for me? for us?”

eloise nodded fervently, her eyes never leaving yours. “yes, y/n. for us.”

your eyes filled with tears once more, but this time they were tears of joy. "eloise, i would follow you anywhere. but..."

your voice broke as you continued, "i do not deserve your forgiveness. i went behind your back. i asked penelope to write about you, and i—" your words were cut off as eloise silenced you with a gentle kiss, her lips soft and reassuring.

she pulled back, her eyes filled with love and determination. "y/n, that does not change the depth of my affection for you. we can leave this place and forge a new path together. please, say you will come with me."

a tentative smile tugged at your lips as she leaned forward, resting your forehead against eloise’s. “then yes. yes, i will go with you.”

in that quiet, dimly lit library, away from the prying eyes of society, a promise was made. your future, though uncertain, was yours to shape. together, the two of you would find your place in a world that had never quite understood you, but in each other, you both had found everything you needed.

[mrfandomgage]

Chara stares into the fire, keeping it alive in the cold. He spent his entire night adding fuel to it. He watches the flame, as it dwindles, and rises once more. Mr Fandom of the two Gages wakes up. He attempts and successfully sits up.

"G-g-good morning", Chara says, shivering. He sits back from the flame, in the cold.

Mr Fandom remains silent, looking over to the other Gage, sound asleep. Mr Fandom looks to Chara and nods.

"Nnnot much of a t-talker anymore, f-friend?" Chara asks.

Gage points to the middle of his neck. After doing so he makes a gun hand symbol and pretend fires into it.

"Y-your neck is shot? Slept p-p-poorly?"

Gage shakes his head, pointing back to the center of his neck. He tries to exaggerate breathing, but hurts his throat in the process, grabbing his neck and slumping forward in the process.

"Oh your th-th-th-throat".

Gage's other hand raises up in a thumbs up, rather shakily as he's more focused on the pain he caused himself.

"So, she mmmust have a b-bit higher p-p-pain tolerance".

Gage nods, forcing himself to his feet. His legs beg him to give out with every step. He walks towards Chara. Chara, focused on the flames. Chara feels the heat of the flames rise, as he's now laying next to them, as a pained scream rings behind him. Chara looks back in a panic, making sure not to back into the flames.

Gage is clutching his wrist, as blood lines the back of his arm. His teeth are bound together at this point. He takes a step forward and falls onto his oposite shoulder, to protect his newly acquired wounds.

"Why...", Chara asks.

"y-o-u... were... cold", Gage coughs, his voice rough, and deeper than a well.

"You can talk right now?"

Gage forces himself to sit upright, "yes".

"You sound like a demon, or even Cthulu right now", Chara chuckles, trying to lighten his mood, "why does it hurt?"

Gage thinks, "nerves died, infinite power recreates them, nerves... overreact".

"Is that why your throats are sore?" Gage nods to Chara's question.

"Put on a show, fight without defense, quick, and painful", Gage says, half smiling.

"For Gods, you two seemed to not be very good at protecting yourselves".

"Mhmm", Gage's wound starts to heal itself, as he grimaces from the energy in his arm.

Chara starts laughing, "her body just popped like a grape, and the trees still held your intestines as they painted the clearing".

Gage laughs. It's something that silences Chara, and causes the ground to rumble. A sinister laugh that only grew louder. Then coughing as Gage spits up blood. Chara contemplates his situation out in the woods. Chara thinks, and asks a question.

"Are you a cruel god?"

Gage looks up, wiping away his spit. Chara stares at him, with glowing red eyes. Chara asks again.

"Are you a cruel god?"

Gage responds, "what do you mean?"

"You made me, my world, our souls. Do you just have us live for us to be sent to hell? Why couldn't I move on when I died? Why did I have to witness everyone I love to die in front of me?" Chara cries out, tears streaming down his face.

Gage breaths in, "in truth, you are a recreation. You are made off the bones of someone else with the same name, given you own identity, one that I felt fit suffering".

"I'm... what?"

"Maybe I gave you too much to struggle with, as you've died twice and you're still suicidal".

"... I... right, you're a god, of course you knew".

"There is hope for heaven for anyone here. Because as I made you in a new image, made in sorrowful pain, I wish you joy".

Chara ponders, "why didn't you two defend yourselves in the fight?"

Gage looks to Ms Fandom, "We don't like fighting as often as we did. Would you like to see that again?"

Chara panics, "No! Of course I don't want to!" Chara shivers, "I... how could your flesh just grow like that?"

Gage nods, his eyes closing as he falls back asleep by the fire. Chara stares into the fire.

"I'm not the original me?" Chara thinks, "or am I an original for the way they were copied?" Chara contemplates, and keeps the fire alive.

[wishuhadstayed]

Dress (Part 3)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 6.9k 😦

Summary: after years of friendship and one night of passion, can Aaron and reader sort out their feelings for each other?

Warnings: SMUT! NSFW! Unprotected P in V sex, light choking, angst, canon typical violence, mentions of death, mentions of alcohol.

Author’s Note: these two idiots (affectionate) I love them 💜 (italicized portions indicate a flashback)

Masterlist

Part 2

Slowly stirring awake hours after collapsing into bed with you, Aaron felt a moment of panic in his chest as he realized you weren’t by his side. He sat bolt upright in a cold sweat, finding you perched on the opposite edge of the bed with your back to him.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” he inquires, crawling across the bed to press closely to your side.

“It’s nothing really,” you reply half-heartedly, patting his knee. “Just another nightmare,” you lie. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

Not convinced, but not wanting to press the issue, he relents. “I'm gonna run you a hot bath, okay?” He suggests, easing down from the bed to slip off the only clothing that remains; your strappy high heels. “It should help you relax.”

“Thank you Aaron,” you reply, stroking his thick hair with a weak smile.

Retreating to the master bath, he wonders what you’re really trying to hide. Something was off for sure, and he couldn’t bear to witness your pain, so he would do whatever it takes to get to the bottom of things.

——————————————————————————

You were ruining things. You could feel it in your gut. You’d had the most amazing sex with your best friend and now things were irrevocably changed. You were in love with him, no doubt. But did he feel the same way, or was it just a fling?

You’d lied straight to his face and told him that it was just another nightmare, but his profiler’s intuition had seen straight through your charade; you felt it in your soul. Try as you might, you could not hide from him.

Do you pretend it never happened? Go back to being friends and slowly die inside? Could he really be in love with you, damage and all? The uncertainty was quickly eating you alive.

“Come here,” his deep voice slices through the fog as he scoops you up and carries you to the bath. Easily stepping over the side, he eases you both into the hot, bubbly water.

After a few moments, the hot water eases away the tension in your body and you lean back into his chest, your head on his broad shoulder; but the uncomfortable silence remains.

“I know there’s more going on than what you’re telling me,” he whispers, softly stroking the hair from your neck. “I just wish you trusted me enough to tell me what it is. We’re supposed to be best friends.”

The quiet pain in his tone sends silent tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Look,” he says, turning your face to him and gently wiping away tears with the pad of his thumb. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, I just can’t stand to see you hurt like this. If it’s something I’ve done, please tell me so I can try to fix it.”

“Oh Aaron,” you sigh, softly caressing his concerned face, “no, it’s not you. You’re so good to me. You’re perfect.”

“Can you please talk to me about it?” He begs, gripping your hands for dear life. “If you’re afraid because you think we messed things up, don’t be,” he reassures.

“Because I love you too.”

Face flushing, you stammer out, “Y-you heard that? I thought that was just in my head.”

“Yes I heard it,” he smiles, “and I feel the same way. I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time and I’ve been too blind and stupid to admit it.”

Eyes welling up with tears, you cup his jaw and whisper, “Oh Aaron, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that. Is this really happening? It just doesn’t seem real.”

“I’ll say it as many times as it takes to sink in,” he assures, smiling as he presses his lips to yours.

“I love you,” he sighs, his lips trailing down your neck.

“I love you,” he breathes, squeezing your hand before giving it the softest kiss.

“I love you.” his rich voice repeats as he squeezes you tightly, like he fears that you might disappear.

“Let’s celebrate,” he suggests, climbing out of the tub and heading for the bathroom door without so much as a towel.

“Where are you going?” you inquire, trying to stifle a giggle.

“It’s a surprise,” he replies with a mischievous grin. “I’ll be right back.” And with that he disappears from sight.

As you sink into the water, tears of joy and relief begin to flow. You never in your wildest dreams imagined this day would come. But it had. At long last, Aaron was yours.

The tears continue to stream as you thank your lucky stars, or God, or fate for finally bringing you together.

You barely even noticed when he showed back up at the door, still naked and holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Upon seeing your tears, he immediately set everything on the counter and rushed over. Leaning over the side of the tub, he cradles your face in his hands.

“What’s wrong darling?” he asks with a concerned tone. “Is it something I did? Too much, too soon?”

“Absolutely not,” you reply with a sniffle, covering his hands with yours. “Things have never been more perfect than they are right now.”

“Do you need to talk, my love?”

Damn. He always sees straight through you.

“It seems like you have a lot on your mind,” he comments, softly caressing your cheek.

“Yeah,” you manage to choke out as the tears start fresh.

Offering a large, steady hand, he helps you out of the tub, taking a moment to dry both your bodies before scooping you up and carrying you to bed.

Reclining against the headboard, he settles you closely against him, your hips nestled between his thighs; legs tangled together. Your head rests on his bare chest, his right arm draped at your back. His massive left hand engulfs your right, which lies on his warm, scarred belly.

He allows the silence to stretch on for a few minutes, not wanting to rush you into anything before you’re ready. Finally, when he can bear the uncertainty no longer, he gives a soft nudge.

“What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours, huh?” he questions, tilting your chin up to his face. “Out with it.”

“I feel so dumb, Aaron. You’re going to think I’m really stupid,” you manage through a strangled sob.

“I will do no such thing,” he assures, temporarily moving his right hand to wipe away your tears. “I’m here for you and I want to know exactly what you’re feeling. You can always talk to me.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” you explain. “It’s such a long story.”

“I’m all ears,” he encourages.

At his wedding to Haley, Aaron had insisted that you, as his best friend, be included in the wedding party. As he was preparing, getting the finishing touches of his tuxedo settled, he sent one of the groomsmen to fetch you.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet, Hotchner,” you joke, laying your hand on his forearm. “I already got all dolled up for this.”

The sight of you all made up and standing in your floor length emerald bridesmaid’s dress made his heart flutter in his chest.

“You look beautiful, as always,” he replies, reaching out to softly grasp your hand. “I’m just a bundle of nerves,” he admits. “Excited, but nervous. You always make me feel better.”

His casual admission of your beauty and his need for you silently shattered your heart into a million pieces as he was about to marry someone else. Guilt slowly seeped in as you smiled and straightened his tie. You shouldn’t be jealous, you should be happy for your best friend.

“You have nothing to worry about, Aaron. You and Haley are perfect for each other. I’ll be right there for you.”

“Thanks, Y/N. For always being there for me. You’re the best,” he says, finally letting go of your hand. “I guess it’s about time to go.”

“Yeah,” you agree, giving him a tight hug and trying to fight back tears before running to take your place in line at the back of the church.

“You WERE stunning that day,” he breaks in, softly kissing the top of your head. “I meant that. It was probably wrong of me to say that on my wedding day, especially knowing now how you felt, but it was the truth.”

You begin to sniffle again and he rubs your back as you carry on.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, looking like a dream in his suit as you walked down the aisle. The wish that it was you walking to him and not Haley crept in again, along with a wave of guilt.

You could sense his eyes on you as well.

We’re just friends. Nothing more. It doesn’t mean anything. Just keep walking, and for the love of god, don’t cry in front of the whole church.

To your credit, you managed to hold it together long enough for the service before running to the nearest bathroom and breaking down completely.

The door creaked open suddenly, startling you and there she was. Haley. Looking infuriatingly gorgeous in her bridal gown.

Damn. Why did I have to let her see me cry? Get it together.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” She asks, holding out a tissue.

“I’m alright,” you smile weakly, blotting your eyes with the tissue. “I’m just so happy for you both,” you explain. “Weddings always make me cry.”

“Just making sure everything is alright.” She says. “I know Aaron would hate for you to miss the reception.”

“Thanks,” you reply. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The reception felt like torture, watching your best friend and the man of your dreams slip further from your reach. You offered soft, if weary, smiles at passers-by. For anyone that noticed or cared enough to ask if something was wrong, you offered the excuse that you had a headache and weren’t feeling well, but wanted to support your friend.

You were having a drink at the bar, trying to forget, or at least not think so much, when Aaron’s deep voice cut through the noise.

“May I have this dance?” he asked as a slow country song, We Danced, by Brad Paisley if you weren’t mistaken, began to play.

“I don’t think so, Aaron. I’m exhausted,” you decline.

“PLEASE?” He pleads, grabbing both your hands and fixing you with that piercing gaze of his.

“ALRIGHT, alright.” You relent, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor. He never was one to take no for an answer.

As the music played, he pulled you close to his chest, his arm draped around your waist.

You laid your head on his shoulder as the two of you swayed, and everyone else seemed to disappear.

Tears filled your eyes, spilling onto Aaron’s shoulder as the lyrics punched you right in the gut.

From that moment, there was never any doubt. I had found the one that I had always dreamed about.

“So that’s why you were crying,” Aaron cuts in. “Not because you were happy. I can’t believe I didn’t notice. I’m so sorry, my love.”

“You couldn’t have known, Aaron. I never said anything. Please don’t blame yourself or feel sorry for living a life that made you happy.”

“Anyway,” you continue, “after the wedding I was good for a while. I stopped thinking about you every second of every day and then I got a phone call from you.”

“Haley’s pregnant, Y/N!” I’m gonna be a dad! Can you believe that?”

“That’s amazing news, Aaron. I’m so happy for you both.”

And seeing you so excited, I was happy for you, genuinely happy, but deep down all I could think about was how I wished it was me instead.

Then when I came to the hospital to visit you and Haley asked me to be his godmother I knew it would hurt being so close, but I wanted to be there to support you.

Holding Jack the first time was one of the hardest things I ever did, but once I looked into his eyes, I fell in love with him immediately; because he was part of you.

“Oh baby,” his rich voice reverberates in his chest as he bear hugs you tightly. After a minute, you feel his grip loosen and as you look up, he plants a brief, soft kiss on your lips.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Tears begin to well up in your eyes again, and he urges you to continue whilst softly stroking them away.

“For a while it seemed like you were the perfect family. So happy,” you remark. “Then I got a call from Haley.”

“Hey Y/N! It’s Haley. Wanna come over for a girl’s night? Well, Jack will be here too, but I figured you wouldn’t mind that. I wanted to pick your brain about some stuff with Aaron. No one knows him better than you.”

You had agreed, of course. It was good seeing little Jack, but what had started out as a girl’s night and some advice had quickly devolved into a full-blown bitchfest about how pissed Haley was that Aaron was never home.

“It sucks doing everything by myself,” Haley rants. “I swear it’s like I’m a single mom sometimes. It seems like that damn job is all he cares about lately. Can’t even be bothered to make it home for a simple family photo.”

Every word from her mouth had torn like a knife straight to the heart. She didn’t understand him at all. He deserves better, but that’s not your place; so you just listened and nodded quietly until you could go.

A few months later, you got a call from Aaron.

“Hey Y/N,” his normally steady voice wavers, like he might be on the verge of tears. “I need to see you tonight after work. Can I come over to your place?”

“Of course you can, Aaron,” you reply without hesitation. “Is everything okay?”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” his voice cracks on the other end of the line. “I’ll see you tonight.”

What you saw when you had opened your front door that night had made your heart ache. His eyes were puffy and red from tears already and clutched in his hand was a manila envelope. Not good.

You ushered him inside, settling him on the couch next to you.

“What’s going on, Aaron?” You ask, gently taking his free hand. “I know something is wrong. Don’t hold it in. Please. Talk to me.”

And with that, the dam breaks and the usually strong and composed man breaks down into a fit of tears. Unsure what to do and not wanting to pry, you comfort him the best way you know how.

Pulling him close, you lay his head on your chest, tenderly stroking and caressing his back as he wordlessly weeps.

“Let it out,” you encourage, gingerly brushing his hair back from his tear-stained face. “Let it all out, I’m right here.”

A good while later, he drew in a deep, shaky breath as the tears finally gave way to exhaustion.

“Are you ready to talk about it now?” you question, tilting his face up to look at you. He gives a small nod of agreement. With a deep breath, he leans back far enough to look you in the eyes, but still close enough to grasp your forearm for support and glumly states,

“Haley filed for divorce.”

“Oh Aaron,” you breathed, pulling him back into your embrace. “I’m so sorry, honey,” you express, squeezing him tight.

“I guess loving my job makes me a shitty husband and father,” he laments.

“No,” you interrupt, turning his face to your deathly serious expression. “You stop that right now,” you demand. “You’re an excellent father. I’ve seen you with Jack. You love that boy more than life.”

“As for Haley,” you continue, “ I know you love her, but she doesn’t understand your passion. Your team needs you. Some people just can’t handle the demands of your job.”

“It’s late,” you comment, slowly rising from the sofa. “We should get some rest.”

“I’ll just crash here on the couch if you don’t mind,” he suggests.

“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I refuse to leave you alone with your feelings. You’re coming to bed with me, and that’s final.”

He offers no resistance as you take his hand and lead him down the hall. Once inside your bedroom, you settle him on the edge of your bed and help him get comfortable.

Sliding off his suit jacket, you place it on top of the chest at the foot of your bed. You loosen his silk tie, slipping it from around his neck and laying it on the nightstand.

“This really isn’t necessary,” he protests as you unbutton his dress shirt. “I’m a big boy. I can undress myself.”

“You’re exhausted, Aaron,” you persist, laying his shirt to the side and kneeling down to unlace his shoes. “You take care of everyone else. Would it kill you to let me take care of you for once?”

“No,” he relents as you slip off his socks. “It wouldn’t. Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Fall apart, apparently,” you reply jokingly, patting his knee before heading to the bathroom to get changed yourself.

“I’ll be right back,” you call out. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Upon your return, clad in an oversized tee and sleep shorts, you find Aaron in his boxers and undershirt, looking serene and already passed out under the covers.

You crawl into bed slowly, trying desperately not to disturb his slumber. Settling down next to him on your back, you freeze when he suddenly stirs.

Still half asleep, he nuzzled up partly on top of you, lying his head on your chest and his arm across your waist.

Still frozen in shock at the unexpected affection, you feel his breathing once again become slow and even. When you’re certain that he’s back asleep, you rest your left hand at the small of his back and relax; stroking his hair as you drift off to sleep.

You wake at some point, groggy and with Aaron now pressed closely against your back. Yawning, you check the alarm clock; 3:45am. Suddenly thirsty, you reach for the glass of water on the nightstand when an unexpected tug at your waist stops you in your tracks.

Aaron’s arm is circled tightly around you. A soft groan escapes his still- sleeping form as he subconsciously pulls you back flush against his chest. Close contact restored, he nuzzles softly at your neck as he settles back in.

Hazy light filtering through the blinds awakens you to an empty bed. Glancing around, you see Hotch’s suit jacket still in the spot it was left last night. The alarm clock reads 7am. Where is he? No water running in the bathroom, so he’s not taking a shower.

The smell of frying bacon makes you realize how starved you are, luring you out to the kitchen. As you approach, you hear a muttered curse.

“Ah shit!”

As you round the corner into the doorway, you find Aaron at the stove in a pair of sweatpants that he had left at your place after your last movie night with Jack. Still cursing under his breath, he strips off his undershirt as you come into his line of sight.

“You alright?” you ask, looking him up and down, eyes wide.

“Damn bacon grease splattered on me, that’s all,” he replies, taking in your dazed expression. “You hungry?” He inquires.

“What?” You sputter, having not heard his question as you were completely distracted by the tantalizing sight in front of you.

“I asked if you’re hungry. You were staring. I made plenty.”

God this man could not be more perfect, or any more oblivious.

“Hold on,” Aaron cuts in. “Two things. First of all, I didn’t realize that I had snuggled up to you or pulled you into my chest,” he explains.

“Well that’s because you were asleep, dumbass,” you tease, playfully patting his arm.

“Watch it,” he warns with a grin. “Second, I had no idea you were staring at ME. I really thought you were hungry.”

“I was hungry for breakfast until I saw you shirtless, dumbass.”

“Oh really?” he whispers suggestively in your ear as his hand makes its way up your thigh.

“Not so fast, sir,” you shut him down, swatting his wandering hand.

“SIR?” he inquires, planting a warm kiss just behind your ear. “I like the sound of that.”

“Cool it Hotchner,” you insist. “I’m not finished with my story yet. I’ve been waiting for YEARS, I think you can make it another 15 minutes. Now, where did I leave off?”

“Then I joined the BAU and I was so busy getting settled in and getting the hang of things that I didn’t have time to think about even though we were always around each other. That is, until I got an unusual call from Emily…”

“Hey, Y/N, it’s Emily, look we were just wondering if Hotch was riding in with you, maybe. He hasn’t shown up and he’s not answering any of our texts, so we just wanted to check.”

“No, he’s not with me, Emily. Hold on, I’ll give him a call and I’ll get right back to you.”

Hanging up, you dial Aaron’s number by heart. It rings several times, but ultimately goes unanswered into his voicemail. Panic begins to rise in your chest as you dial Emily back.

“Emily he’s not answering, I’m going by his apartment. Something definitely isn’t right. He always lets someone know if he’s going to be late and he never ignores a phone call from the BAU.”

“Okay, be careful,” she urges. “And let us know what happens, alright.”

“Will do,” you reply, disconnecting the call as you floor the gas. Flying through the streets, you make it to his apartment in record time.

Arriving on his floor, you make a beeline for his door and bang on it loud enough to wake the dead.

“AARON! Aaron if you’re in there you better open the door this instant, it’s not fucking funny.”

When you’re met with nothing but silence, a deep sense of cold dread envelopes your whole body. Using the key he had given you, you unlock the door and your heart immediately sinks.

There on the carpet in front of you, a pool of blood. A bullet hole in the wall. Far worse than anything you had imagined.

I called Emily back and the whole team got to work trying to track you down. God, I was so scared. We had no idea whether you were alive or dead. I couldn’t bear the thought of living without you.

Emily had Garcia call round to the hospitals asking if you had been brought in and that’s when we heard that Morgan was in the hospital.

That didn’t make sense to me, because he was there on the case with us, and that’s when it hit me.

Foyet.

But at least we knew you were still alive. When I got to the hospital and they told us what happened, my god, I nearly cried. Seeing you unconscious in that stretcher almost broke me, but I had to hold it together for the team and for you.

And I did, until Haley got there. I couldn’t contain myself anymore and I ran to the bathroom and completely broke down. I could hear her ridiculing you even through the thick bathroom walls and I was so furious. I cried even harder out of pure hatred for her. You could easily have died, and she couldn’t even be bothered to care.

When I heard her leave, I came out and that’s when you called me over. You held your arms out and I broke down again as it really set in that I could have lost you forever.

As tears began to well up, you sniffled at the sudden emotion of old memories. He draws you closer into his chest, stroking your hair as he whispers words of comfort.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t even imagine how awful that was for you, but I’m here now. I’ll never leave you again. We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to.”

“No,” you protest, “I’m fine really. It’s almost over.”

“Once I realized that you were gonna be okay, things were alright again for a while and then Haley died.”

“Seeing the grief and anguish in your face as you held her lifeless body absolutely wrecked me. Knowing that someone that you love is in the worst pain of their life and there’s not a thing you can do about it is the worst feeling. I would have done anything, ANYTHING to take away your heartache or even lessen it, but I couldn’t.”

“I tried to be a good friend to you, putting my own feelings for you aside to help you cope. Gave you space when you needed it and a shoulder to cry on for the hard times.”

“Slowly I started to see the old you creep back in; the light in your eye, a soft, dimpled smile and I had a foolish glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe for once we could be happy.”

“You were training for the FBI triathlon and it really seemed like things were going fine and we were back to normal and then the next thing I know, I’m blindsided by you gushing about a new woman.”

“This girl is amazing, Y/N. She’s so funny, and we’re training together for the race. I’m a little nervous honestly, but I think I’m finally ready. I’ve gotta put myself back out there and, I don’t know, it just feels right with her.”

Honestly that was so incredibly painful for me to hear. Of course I wanted you to be happy, but I wanted you to be happy with ME.

It was so good to see your brilliant smile and so tragic to know that it wasn’t me on your mind every day when I had to see you at work. Hearing you chat about how gorgeous and amazing she was, and how in love you were with her made me want to die.

So I started avoiding you as much as I could. Because as much as it hurt to be away from you, it was far worse constantly hearing you talk about her like I was completely invisible.

That’s when JJ cornered me in the kitchenette.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” she states matter-of-factly.

“The way you light up when he laughs. And now that he’s with Beth, even the mention of him makes you look like you want to crawl under a rock. So do you wanna talk about it? Or are you gonna make me force it out of you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, JJ.”

“Oh please. Listen. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s your business, but don’t lie to me, okay?”

“I can’t do this anymore, JJ,” you respond, long-held tears streaming down. “I’m putting in my two weeks notice. I go home crying almost every night, it’s killing me,”

An abrupt cough from her cuts you off mid-sentence and you see Aaron standing there in the doorway. With a reassuring pat on your shoulder, JJ makes her way out, leaving the two of you alone in uncomfortable silence.

“You can’t leave,” he pleads quietly, nearly in tears himself. “If you’re having a hard time with the job you should have come to me sooner,” he says, softly grabbing your hand.

“Don’t go,” he begs. “The team needs you. I need you.”

His words slash straight through your defenses and tears continue to fall despite your best efforts to stem the tide. So pathetic to be caught crying like a baby.

But the look of genuine distress and the tinge of pain in his voice as he urges you to stay pulls at what’s left of your heartstrings.

You would surely hurt him if you left. So like a true friend, you will stay. Suffering in silence, the secret burden of your undying love for him slowly shattering you beneath its weight.

Days and weeks went by, the pain washing over you in waves as you struggled to keep your head above water.

“Being there by your side through everything really took its toll on me because I had such deep feelings for you. And what really sucked was feeling guilty all the damn time because you weren’t even mine to lose. I cried myself to sleep every night knowing I would never have you and angry at myself for hating the women lucky enough to love you like I so desperately wanted to.”

“I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that I had to be happy with the role that I already had in your life and stop hoping for something more, when I got another tearful phone call from you.”

“Y/N?” he sniffled. “Can I see you?”

“Aaron, what’s going on? Is everything alright? Is Jack okay? You sound really upset.”

“Jack’s fine, it’s nothing about him. I’ll tell you all about it, but please, I just really need you right now. Can I come over?”

“You’re in no shape to be driving, Aaron. I’ll come to you. Be there as soon as I can. Just hang on, okay?”

“Alright. Please hurry.”

Coming through the front door, which he unlocked for you, you find a clearly emotional Aaron on the sofa, head in his hands.

Approaching quietly, you lay a hand on his broad shoulder.

“Hey,” you murmur. “I’m here.”

Looking up to meet your eyes, he loses the battle and tears begin to fall.

“Come here,” you urge, plopping down on the couch next to him and reaching out your arms.

Desperately in need of comfort, he accepts, pressing close into your arms and laying his head on your shoulder.

“Let it out,” you gently encourage as the normally strong and stoic man quietly weeps.

“I’m right here,” you reassure, softly rubbing his trembling back. “You can talk when you’re ready.”

Gradually the tears slowed and he heaved a sigh as he whispered, “It’s Beth.”

“Beth? What happened?”

“She’s taking a job in New York. We agreed that long distance would be too much of a burden on the relationship, so it’s over.”

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” you comfort, “I know how hard that must be after putting yourself back out there. You really seemed happy with her.”

“I was,” he agrees, “It was a mutual decision, and it feels stupid to be so upset, but I can’t help it. I just don’t know if I have it in me to try again. Maybe I’m supposed to be alone.”

“Oh Aaron,” you whisper, softly wiping his tears and planting a feather light kiss on the back of his massive hand, “You’re not alone. I’m always here for you, aren’t I?”

A minuscule sound that could almost have been a laugh escapes him as a tiny smirk turns up the corner of his perfect mouth.

“That’s better,” you encourage, gently sweeping the hair from his eyes. “And now you should relax,” you suggest, rising from your seat.

“Wait,” he pleads, “please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assure. “Just getting a hot shower started for you. I’ll be here as long as you need me, okay? I promise.”

Trying to make the process as easy and relaxing as possible, you head to his bedroom, turning on the shower in the attached master bath to let it heat up before grabbing him some fresh clothes. Finding a soft cotton t-shirt and a pair of boxers, you lay them on the counter next to his towel before heading back to the living room.

Grabbing your outstretched hand, he rises and follows you back to the bedroom, whispering a quiet thanks before disappearing into the steamy bathroom.

Once alone, you strip out of your work clothes in exchange for something nearly identical to what you’d just fished out for him. The shirt nearly swallows you whole, but it’s insanely cozy, as is his bed when you snuggle under the covers; the familiar scent of him making you drowsy.

“Yeah, when I got out of the shower, you were asleep in my spot,” he breaks in, “but you looked so peaceful that I hated to bother you. So I climbed to the other side, and you subconsciously snuggled into me. Remember that like it was yesterday.”

“Hey,” you gripe with a playful shove, “Who’s telling the story here, you or me?”

“Sorry darling,” he apologizes, kissing your temple. “Go on.”

“ANYWAY,” you continue, flashing a sweet smile, “as I was saying before I was so cutely interrupted….”

A sudden movement startles you, the broad shoulder that your head rests on alerting you to the fact that not only have you fallen asleep, but also apparently curled up with Aaron as well.

Trying to make heads or tails of the situation, you look up, meeting his eyes as he strokes your hair.

“Sssshhhhh, it’s alright. It’s just me,” he soothes. “Go back to sleep.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one taking care of you?”

“Yeah,” he responds, beginning to tear up again. “You’re great at that. Always have been, but I’m fine, really,” he ends with a sniffle.

“You’re a terrible liar, Aaron. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“It’s just that, what kind of woman would want me, Y/N? I’m an older, single dad with so much emotional baggage I don’t think anyone would willingly involve themselves with this mess.”

“Stop that right now,” you insist, lightly slapping his arm. “You are not a mess. You’ve been through more hell than most people could ever imagine and you’re still strong. You’ll find the right woman someday. One that will love you and Jack like crazy. Who really understands you. Who wants to help you heal. Someone who will be by your side no matter what,” you trail off, fighting to hold back tears of your own.

“My god, you really were right in front of me the whole time and I was just too stupid to see it,” he butts in.

“You said it, not me,” you joke, softly patting his thigh.

“No seriously,” he interjects, “I had no idea how much you were suffering because of me. How can I ever make it up to you?”

“Look at me, Aaron,” you insist turning to face him and softly cupping his chin. “It’s not your fault. I could have said something, but I didn’t because I was too afraid I’d lose you,” you sniffle, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“You’ll never lose me, Y/N” he assures with a smile, absentmindedly stroking your left ring finger with the pad of his thumb.

Straddling his lap and looking into those deep, gorgeous eyes of his, you feel the flames of desire start to rise. Leaning in, you nip and suck at his neck, just below his right ear. A soft moan of mixed surprise and pleasure escapes him as you feel his cock hardening against your lower belly. Continuing your trail of open mouthed kisses down his chest, you can’t help but roll your hips in desperate need of friction.

Noticing your growing need, his giant hands grab you firmly by the ass, pulling you closer into him, his now rigid erection directly underneath you, resting against your dripping pussy. Your eyes close, taking in the overwhelming sensation when you feel his hands grinding your hips against his length.

A whimper of sheer ecstasy escapes your open lips, which he quickly stifles with a wet kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your inviting mouth.

A haze of pleasure clouds your senses and the next thing you know, you’re on your back, giggling like a schoolgirl with Aaron looming above you, the edge of his lips curling into a smirk as he presses his lips to yours once more. Softly pulling back, his teeth tug gently at your lower lip.

His eyes go dark with lust as he rubs the tip of his cock against your soaking cunt.

“You’re mine now.”

He pushes in gently, the thickness of his cock slowly stretching you as you whimper and squirm beneath him.

“Mmmmm,” he hums, slipping an arm under your lower back and lifting your hips; going even deeper than you thought possible. “Such a good girl. Taking me so well.”

“O-only for you, Aaron,” you whimper, desperate for him to move, but powerless in his firm grasp.

“That’s right, my sweet girl,” he groans, “And you’ve waited so patiently for such a long while, it’s time you got your reward.”

Rolling his hips into you at that angle, the head of his cock soon grinds into just the right spot that nearly has you seeing stars.

“Oh Aaron,” you whine, your fingernails digging into the muscular flesh of his shoulder. “Right there, just like that.”

A couple more forceful thrusts bring you just to the brink of bliss before you feel a slowing of his pace.

“I thought you said good girls got their reward,” you mewl.

“Patience, darling” he replies with a smirk, hoisting your legs up over his shoulders.

“Ohhhh FUCK, AARON!” you cry out, the new position creating an even more delicious angle than the last.

He plows into you hard, and with a wicked grin, the force of his thrusts rocking the whole bed.

Your mind suddenly goes blank of everything but white hot desire and his name which you pant with every snap of his hips.

Sensing how close you are to the edge, he rubs tight circles on your sensitive clit with the pad of his thumb, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body and pooling between your legs.

The sight of you blissed out beneath him, squirming and moaning as he watches his length disappear into your sweet cunt makes his aching cock twitch inside you.

Slowly the massive hand that was at the small of your back travels up your body, caressing your skin before encircling around your throat.

With a gentle squeeze, you crash over the edge, cunt pulsing around his rigid length. Silent tears well up in your eyes at the intensity and you raise your hips even further, locking your ankles behind his head.

“Ah, FUCK,” he moans, head thrown back as he loses control, spilling deep inside you. Coming down from his high, he slowly pulls out, rolling onto his back next to you.

Slowly sitting up, he turns toward the bathroom.

“I’m gonna go grab a washcloth to get you cleaned up, okay?” he says.

“Noooooo,” you whisper, rising and nuzzling your nose at the crook of his neck and softly kissing his shoulder. “Don’t go.”

“Come on baby,” he murmurs, gently scooping you up into his muscular arms. Upon reaching the bathroom, he perches you up on the toilet before turning on the sink to warm up and rummaging for a washcloth from the cabinet beneath.

Retrieving the cloth, he dampens it, preparing to get you cleaned up. Turning back around, he finds you looking clearly uncomfortable and more than a little embarrassed.

“What’s the matter, honey?” he inquires, softly sweeping the stray hair from your flushed face and tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. “Don’t you need to go?”

“Yes,” you reply, barely more than a whisper as you try to break from the intensity of his gaze. “But…” your soft voice trails off, cheeks blazing even worse than before.

A low chuckle escapes him as he grins when the sudden realization sinks in.

“BUT, you don’t want to pee in front of me, huh? Is that it?”

A small nod in the affirmative confirms his suspicions.

“You just confessed years worth of repressed emotions, not to mention the downright filthy sex that we’ve had the past two days and this is what you’re worried about?”

Trying to fight back a smile, you lose the battle, giggling at the foolishness of the thought. Once finished, he gets you cleaned up, the warm, damp cloth gently washing your skin nice and clean.

Scooping you up once more, he easily carries you back to the bed, laying you down softly before getting comfortable and pulling you in.

The position is intimate, you rest half on top of him, cheek to broad, bare chest as his massive warm hand hitches your thigh over his leg.

“Oh Aaron,” you sigh, instantly melting into him, your hand lightly caressing his chest almost as if to convince yourself that you’re not dreaming.

His left hand softly strokes the small of your back as he breathes in the scent of your hair and plants a tender kiss on the top of your head.

“You know I love you, right?” he questions, more of a rhetorical than anything, but your sudden eerie quiet and shift of demeanor soon has him worried.

“You know that, right?” he prods once again, giving your thigh a playful squeeze.

Looking up at him with an almost sad expression, you ask, “Are you sure?”

“What kind of question is that, baby?” he asks, softly cupping your chin and meeting your gaze. “Of course I love you. More than life. More than anything besides Jack. I don’t ever want to live without you again. You’re more than just a lover, you’re my best friend,” he adds, leaning in for a warm, wet kiss. “Forever.”

——————————————————————————

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[intercoursefluids]

BMFBMLBME Chapter 5

Marinette had been forced into an, admittedly pretty, wedding dress that wrapped around her waist and tied in the back to fit her body.

There were several people in the room with her, doing her makeup, her hair, even her nails were being painted.

She wished they would all just leave so she could let herself cry, just for a few seconds.

Unfortunately, those precious seconds never came. As soon as she was finished getting dolled up by her captors she was shoved out the door and walking down a hall towards where she could hear the Bridal Chorus playing.

A bouquet is thrust into her hands and she grips it tightly, grateful that the many flowers and leaves cover that shaking of her hands.

She doesn’t start walking until she is jabbed in the back by something sharp, moving ever so slowly forward through what feels like wet cement weighing her down.

She only looks up from the floor when she reaches the altar, slowly climbing the steps and standing in front of Chloe and Kagami, Chloe’s makeup ruined by the continuous tears streaming down her face and Kagami’s eye makeup being smudged from where she was probably wiping her own away.

Damian stands before her, a profound sadness in his eyes as the officiator starts to speak.

“We are gathered here today to witness the sacred union of…”

Marinette’s blood was rushing in her ears, drowning out all the noise surrounding her.

All she could hear was her own heart beat, all she could feel was the thudding of her heart against her chest.

Her vision was going in and out, unfocused and refocused, the lights jumping out at her, blurring together into one big, swirling mess, and then, there was green.

Green was filling her vision and hands were gently grasping her arms, slowly pulling her back to the present as the green slid out of her vision, to the side of her head where she could feel gently puffs of air against her ear before she realized it was Damian, holding her arms and whispering in her ear.

“I will do whatever it takes to make sure you make it out of here, safe. This is my vow to you as your ‘husband’.”

Damian starts to pull back but Marinette flips her hands over so she is holding onto him as well.

“We are both getting out of here alive, this is my vow to you as your ‘wife’. Also I was not listening to anything until just now so I don’t know what I am supposed to do now, please help.”

Damian pulls back slightly, kissing her on her cheek and moving to hold one of her hands, turning them both to face the crowd gathered beside them.

He gives her hand a squeeze and starts walking, following… someone… out of the room and down a hallway.

The pair reach a doorway, the person they had been following unlocking the door and holding it open for them.

Marinette is about to step into the room when Chloe and Kagami come into view.

Both of the girls are unconscious and panic seizes her mind.

“What are you doing to them? What are they doing to them!”

Marinette turns to the person who had guided them in barely concealed fear.

“Our Lady is not a liar. The girls are no longer needed so they are going back to their homes. Enjoy your room and time together.”

With those words Marinette is pushed into the room after Damian and the door is slammed shut behind them, the lock audibly clicking into place.

Immediately, Marinette rushes to the door, trying the handle and when that fails slamming fists against it. 

She slams her shoulder against the door and searches around the frame for any weak points to help her get it open.

Damian is quickly on her, pulling her away from the door and holding her tightly to him, even as she beats on his chest, demanding for him to let her go as she breaks down, barely even able to stay standing.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Marinette collapses against him, all the fight leaving her body making her slump against him.

Damian kept his hold on her, gently lowering them to the ground and readjusting so he was holding her in his lap, propped up against the wall as he rubbed her back.

“I’m so sorry, Kagami. I wish you and your friends had never been dragged into this.”

Marinette hiccups, rubbing her eyes and curling up into a ball on top of him.

“Marinette. My name is Marinette, Kagami was the other girl with blue hair. I didn’t know why they were asking for her so I said it was me.”

Damian sighs, curling himself around Marinette’s shaking form.

“I’m so sorry, Marinette. Let yourself cry, I can tell you're trying to hold it back.”

Marinette sniffs, leaning her head against his chest and listening to his heart beat.

“I feel so stupid. Here I am, breaking down and being a pathetic, sobbing mess when you are in the same situation as me, telling me that I should just let myself cry while you just sit there, staying strong.”

Damian's hand moves from her back to her hair, running his hand over the loose strands as she starts to stutter and trip over her words.

“I can be strong enough for the both of us.”

Marinette groans, removing his hand from her hair and wrapping it around her shoulders, lacing their fingers together.

“We are in this together. I don’t want you to be strong right now, let yourself feel while we have the chance to try and process.”

Damian sighs, lifting her in his arms and heading over to the single bed in the room, depositing the both of them onto it and resuming their previous positions while laying on their sides.

“If we are both going to be ‘pathetic sobbing messes’ we might as well be more comfortable, right?”

Marinette nods, tucking her head under his chin and wrapping her arms around him.

Damian wraps his arms back around her, burying his face in her hair as he lets everything catch up to him.

Why was it that as soon as he was finally comfortable somewhere, as soon as he felt like he finally had a proper place somewhere, he was uprooted and taken away?

Why could he not keep the good things? Why didn’t he deserve them?

Damian reaches over, grabbing the folded blanket beside him and opening it up over the two of them, tightening his hold on back on Marinette, Damian finally lets himself mourn everything he may have permanently lost.

Tag List:

@prettylittlebutterflie

@dood-space

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@Account-is-secret-but-needed

@frieddonutsweets

@ev-cupcake

@its-maemain

@vroomtaka

[love-toxin]

cw: injuries, yandere tohma, gn! reader

"so...how long do I have to play along with this little game of yours?"

the question spills out of his mouth without warning, yet each word is methodical, careful, like he's practiced it a thousand times before. the teapot clutched in your hands nearly slips out and shatters over the table you've laid out for the two of you, but the warmth of the porcelain fortunately keeps you steady enough until you can set it down in the space between you two. Tohma was kind enough to bring you a gift after spending awhile away, tending to his duties--so it's only natural that you would take him out for some tea in exchange. it's courtesy. it's expected.

but his question certainly is not.

"I...I have no idea what you're talking about, Tohma."

"really?"

he's sat cross-legged for some time now, waiting as you ordered the tea and offering you some idle chit-chat befitting a pair that haven't seen the other in a while. Tohma has always been your friend even when you were young, but as is custom in a place like Inazuma, your relationship has evolved throughout the years. there are things you can't say anymore, things that would ruin your life if you were caught doing them...and now, you fear, the glint in Tohma's eyes may be an omen that he's about to commit one of those unholy acts.

"come on now, sweetheart, everybody can see the truth for what it is. there's no need to hide it any longer."

he's purposely tiptoeing around the question, waiting for the pieces to click in your mind. he need not say anything at all, however--the way he looks at you in this moment, and the purpose with which he stands from his place at the tea table is enough to set your jaw tight and your eyes to darken.

"you know that I was always meant to be your husband. to be there for you through thick and thin, to care for you when we're both old and gray-"

he takes a few quick steps around it to get to you, to kneel at your side and reach out his hands to pull yours into them, and it's all you can do not to flinch away and risk the image of impropriety. but you've endured this lecture before, and the only thing screaming inside your head is for you to resist--just resist, don't listen to a word he says, and bite your tongue of any insult until he finally gives up and gets the hint.

"Tohma, stop."

"-to treasure you like no one else will. I understand your point of view, I really do--we're still young, and the world outside of Inazuma seems so big and grand...but you have to realize that the time to settle down is coming for us."

he rubs his thumb over your hand and smiles in your direction, but you can't meet his eyes. and then it's slipping out of your grasp and raising up to your face, and you feel yourself stiffen all over as Tohma gently cups your cheek, his gaze lowering towards your mouth as if he has an idea of what he wants to do. but that would be grounds for you to shriek for a guard, and you're entirely certain that that's the only reason he bites his lip to stave off the desire.

"you were always meant to be mine. you believe in fate, and you've always put your trust in me...so why not let me help you?"

that last part comes as a whisper, the tearoom private but the walls still thin. one of the many secrets you've entrusted to Tohma over the years is your disagreement with Inazuma's strict laws, as well as the etiquette that comes with being a member of the higher class. you've always despised being noble, and Tohma has always understood you, at least you thought so....but ever since he's gotten this ludicrous idea in his head, you've known even less peace than usual.

"I've said it a dozen times, Tohma, and I won't say it again. I'm not marrying you."

you do your best to spit the words out with as much venom as you can muster, yet you still feel the twinge of anxiety at snapping at him so informally. it could spell the end for you quite easily, but when your eyes are drawn back to Tohma's expression, all you can see is bliss written all over his face.

"...even laced with contempt, my name sounds so sweet on your lips. you've so much wit, so much grace, and your beauty leaves me breathless...I know how little you think of me, but-"

fury shoots through every vein of your body, and you know it's the wrong move when you slap his hand away from your face, the smack like a thunderclap in the small space of the little tearoom.

"enough, Tohma! enough. do yourself a favour and stop speaking to me--in fact, I dearly hope you never say a word to me again."

each finger on his hand twitches, only to close in a tight fist and sink back down to his lap. you try to avoid his gaze in this moment, but even turning your head away you can still feel his eyes staring right into your soul.

"you know I can't make that promise. you know that I love you."

that word makes you stiffen, your grip lock on your noble dressings, your blood turn to ice in your veins. you've avoided that for so long but it follows you like a demon, and it's eyes glow a verdant green as Tohma's words melt into your skin and eat you alive from the inside out.

"this feeling of yours....it's not mutual, Tohma. just leave it, and leave me."

you say so, but you're the one that stands from the tea table in the end, and Tohma jumps to get to his feet to follow you. he trails on your heels as you step with purpose towards the door and slide it open, the cool chill of Inazuma city in the night prickling your exposed skin. the blond hurries to get in front of you, and the moment you spot a few other citizens on the path this late at night, you tilt your head down and pray to the gods that Tohma won't force you into impropriety.

"...I see. you won't budge on this, then...I will have to accept that. but may I at least escort you home? I can't in good faith allow you to wander alone in the dark. I still care for you."

he looks down on you with a softness to his features, and you hate how easily you buckle under any sort of pressure from him. you prided yourself on not giving in before, but when you're not alone it's not nearly as easy--you have to piece your words so carefully together, and by the time you think of an excuse it will already be too late for you to reject his offer. so with as subtle of a huff as you can manage, you speak softly under your breath that you suppose that's fine, and grit your teeth as you thank him for the offer. and Tohma is all too relieved to stand beside you as you walk down the hill and leave the prying ears of the city, the silence near unbearable between you as you meander through the path cut down the middle of the farmer's fields.

"seems there's no one around. not a surprise for this time of the night."

it's not a terribly long walk back to your family's estate, but Tohma still evidently feels the need to speak up as you reach the end of the gently sloping hill. Konda village lies within sight in the distance, and you feel the tension weigh heavy on your heart as you count the steps closer and closer to safety. relative safety that is.

you're so focused on paying him as little attention as possible that you don't even take notice to his hand drawing closer to yours and his eyes wandering up and down your figure, practically salivating as the flames in his chest burn hotter and hotter, until the moment he can't take any more and he grabs you by the shoulders to stop you and force you to look him straight in the eyes.

"now, you're going to listen very closely. I'm going to give you a little gift, because I love you so very much. you get a minute's head start."

the shock catches you off guard to the point that you bite your own tongue, fear and panic shooting through you like icicles that make you freeze in place. Tohma's expression is so intense he nearly appears feral, pearly teeth glimmering in the light from the moon as he grins down at you like a predator examining their prey.

"here's the deal, sweetheart--if you can run all the way past Konda village, you win. but if I catch you, I win, and you must uphold your promise and marry me in a month's time. and if you win, you'll get your wish--I'll never speak a word to you again."

terror grips you even harder than Tohma is, and at his proposal you whip your head towards the village in the distance and then back to him. if he's seriously not making some kind of sick joke, then there's absolutely no way you would ever make it. you're not a fighter, you don't even know how to hold a sword much less have a vision, and you've seen the kinds of things Tohma is capable of....he'll catch you before you make it anywhere close.

"Tohma-"

his gaze lingers on you for a moment, before he turns you in the direction of the village and pushes you forward, only hard enough for you to stumble a bit. you want to question him, to try and talk him down from such an insane idea, but once you hear him start counting down aloud your feet move on their own and you take off in a pitiful run down towards your target. the night air whips by your face as you try to sprint as best you can, yet your robes that give away your nobility get caught on your sandals and trip you up enough that it makes your heart jump into your throat. your heart pounds in a cage that feels too tight, the air heavy and raw in your lungs the longer you fumble your way forwards in the night. even your tears feel cold as they stream down your face, and if speaking wouldn't expend your precious energy then you would surely be wailing for Tohma to stop, please, he's scaring you. especially once you hear his footsteps take off, and it feels as though his warm breath is right on the back of your neck.

but even so, you look up within moments to find yourself in the middle of the quiet little village, the lanterns dim and only the glow of the moon casting light on the humble little buildings. the panic ceases but resurges just as quickly when you remember that you're not safe yet, that the entrance to the village is still a few hundred metres away--and you can hear Tohma panting now, at a distance close enough that he'll make a grab for you long before you'll ever get there. but there's something you know that he probably doesn't remember, and it might just be your saving grace as you duck into the shadows and skirt around the mayor's house just as he skids into the path of the village. you fear in the pit of your stomach that getting the top off the well that you used to play near as children would make a great deal of noise, but you hurry forward and find it open--and just as you swing a leg over to climb inside and pray that Tohma doesn't think to look for you here, your foot slips on the stone that's still damp from the rain and your world is overturned as you fall through the air. it's not far enough that you can scream or grab for purchase on something, but when you land you hear the sickening crack of something breaking and pain that shoots through your leg so quick that it almost makes you black out.

but something worse is yet to come, and it's Tohma's voice calling out your name, before you look up to the sky and your heart just sinks as you watch his face pop into view over the side of the well.

"oh, archons--baby, are you all right?! did you hurt yourself?"

he hops over the edge quite easily and falls steady on his feat, not even having broken a sweat from chasing you as he hurries to your side and props you up in the crook of his arm. and despite still feeling that twinge of discomfort and panic from him touching you, the agony sets in so deeply that you cling to him without realizing as tears pour down your face and you struggle to breathe.

"let me see...yeah, that's definitely broken. c'mere, I'll help you up.."

just brushing the pads of his fingers over the rapidly-swelling skin of your calf makes you flinch and cry out with pain, and it's obvious by the deep bruising how bad you've hurt it--you wouldn't be able to climb out of here if you tried. but Tohma finds so little trouble in heaving you up into his arms that it's laughable....it would be funny how sincerely you thought you could get away in the first place, if you weren't experiencing the consequences now. and only now is it starting to sink in that you lost, even though he isn't rubbing it in your face. yet.

"poor thing--that was scary, wasn't it? aren't you glad I was here?"

despite how despairing you look, he rubs his cheek against yours as he holds you tight. you realize now how much he's always wanted to do this, and how he's dragging this all out while he has the chance to do it without anyone watching....it's such a rare opportunity, but you don't feel nearly as lucky as he does.

"I'll always be here, sweetie....in sickness and in health, right?"

he murmurs into the shell of your ear, before pressing a kiss to it right afterwards as he reaches out to get a foothold so he can lift you out of here. all you can think about now is how your chance of escaping him has slipped away....and now, your status is a death sentence in the hands of the man who saved your life, and will ask for nothing in return but your gentle hand in marriage. how romantic.

[scriptaed]

cherry blossom avenue.

❀ genre: angst/fluff; arranged marriage!au; f2l!au;

❀ pairing: jin x reader; 

❀ length: 23.0k;

❀ synopsis: college would’ve been unbearable if it weren’t for your wallowing sessions with your best friend jin over a shared “forever alone” woe, so it really was only a matter of time until the two of you sealed a shoddy promise to betroth the other at the age of 27. perhaps it was only a silly joke to you then, but you should’ve known better nonetheless; because when a wedding invitation arrives five years later down the road with his name signed next to another’s, feelings that were once buried begin to blossom once again.

“Don’t be a homewrecker.”

What was supposed to be a light-hearted tease over your fleeting glimpses in his direction bears much more weight than even reality should have; and unbeknownst to her, even if your friend’s commentary strikes a fear in you, a fear that has some creature eating away at you and a horrifying drop in the twisted pain of your chest, the daunting knowledge of a potential truth behind her words pale in comparison to the anguish brought upon by a familiar face of the past. 

Because even as you stand far and hidden behind the crowd of overly dressed classmates and unacquainted businessmen all painted by a silhouette of dimmed black, you manage to observe him through the few albeit sure opportunities; for when the passersby chatter, cross, and weave through the lavish ballroom floor at the perfect time, place, and space for you to peep through the pinholes seemingly formed by pure happenstance or a cruel wish casted upon by fate, the clock returns to a buried state of mind.  

It’s a state of mind seven years stale, mistakenly manifested and deliberately buried. It’s a transition in mindsets when fondness sours into a longing for something that could never be, for his reciprocation of affections means much less than its origins. It’s a heavy moment when you’re finally sure he would never come to speak the language of your enamored being. It’s that fractured frame in time when everyone freezes in their tracks but a reverberating pain transcends the laws of the universe, almost as if on a personal quest to oust you; and even if you vehemently down yourself with another magical shot of liquor, nothing can quite ease the internal war stirring within.

One hand grasping a glass of red wine worth much more than a month of your salary and one arm crossed under the bosom draped over by your only presentable black satin slip dress, you’re almost numb to the turmoil that is irony. How cruel is it that even after seven years of having believed you had moved on, nothing has really changed after all? Your heart still melts in the wake of his dorky grin, your chest still winces over the buried buds of a coveted love, and your blood still runs intoxicated by the presumption that this phase of infatuation would pass with time. 

Your friendship, your feelings, your shared promise, a youth that no one had paid witness to except for you, him, and that cherry blossom tree down that street, nothing has really changed. In fact, you feel as though you could still march across this room and nonchalantly probe at your best friend’s cheek with the ultimate goal of eliciting a shriek from your best friend. 

And yet, the circumstances that have brought you back to him in this very room must have been the one cruel exception. 

“A ‘homewrecker?’” you feign a light-hearted chuckle, swirling your drink and taking another sip as you peek at the distorted glass-image of the man and the woman beside him. “And why would you say something as horrifying as that?”

“Didn’t you say you and, what’s his name,” Alex pauses before nearly gasping, “ah, Seokjin! Didn’t you say you two used to be best friends in college? You might have been his best friend but she’s his fiance now, Y/N! Plus, she’s got a baby in her, too.” 

She might have been joking, and it really should have been if you had been truthful about your feelings for said best friend, but maybe this is the price you’re paying for so dutifully holding onto your dignity; so, instead, the deep undercut of her remark instigates a stirring irritation within you. Raising a questioning brow at your friend is all you can muster without spilling your secret as well as your brewing storm. 

“Oh, so you actually do remember what I say when you’re only a minute from blacking out?” 

“Hey,” your friend recognizes the anger seeping through your body language, stifling a giggle as she tries to bump your elbow and stumbles over her heels, “it was a joke, okay? I’m just looking out for my friend!”

“Right, what is there to even look out for?” 

“Well,” she points a finger at the direction you had just been staring off into a minute prior and leans in to whisper, “you’ve been staring at the newly engaged man for much longer than the woman beside him, if that says anything—”

“—uhuh, as if, hey!” you almost yelp as you help her stand upright once again. A scoff of disbelief escapes your lips over the sight of your friend letting herself go. Grabbing her glass and swiftly placing it onto the tray of the many passing waiters, you squish her cheeks and give her a light pat or two. “The only person you need to worry about is yourself. Why are you even wearing those ungodly stilettos when you can’t even wear kitten heels without whining all day at work?”

“Hey,” Alex pouts, bending one knee and jutting her hips to show off those torturous pink devices on her feet. “I told you about my ex from high school, don’t you remember?”

“So it’s okay if you’re trying to impress an ex from high school, but I’m not even allowed to glance at my old best friend?” you quip, pressing your lips into a thin line as you take another gander at your friend up and down. “And what does excessive drinking even have anything to do with it?” 

She flashes you a mischievous grin, “for confidence.”

“I can’t with you,” the roll of your eyes must have agreed, “and what about the classmate friend who actually invited you to her engagement party?”

“Oh,” Alex glances at the woman beside Jin and shrugs, “she’s alright. She’s that typical good girl. Too smart, too kind, too good at everything that you really want to hate her but have no reason to do so. I’m sorry, Y/N, but your best friend is devilishly handsome and I’m not surprised she’s marrying someone of her league.” 

“Pfft, why are you apologizing to me?” you scoff, ushering her to the washroom and shaking your head along with the stream of confusing emotions that hit you like a truck. “Go wake yourself up before she or, gasp, worse yet, your ex spots you.” 

“Oh my God, you’re right,” she gasps, shuffling in her skintight red bodycon dress and whirling around once more to call out before finally disappearing, “let me know if any boy comes looking for me!” 

“Uhuh, yeah, sure,” you shoo her away, taking another sip from your glass and muttering under your breath, “...how am I supposed to recognize your high school classmates?”

Now that your friend is gone and you’re left all alone to your thoughts, you go against your own advice and down another glass of liquor. 

You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance. 

Well, if Alex is a good judge of character, then at least a good man like your best friend has found an equally respectful woman. It might have hurt to hear her words, but Alex isn’t exactly wrong. At the very least, you could sigh in relief having known you’re genuinely happy for your best friend’s future. 

It’s just that the truth hurts sometimes. 

Relief isn’t an excuse for lingering onto a soon-to-be-married man, regardless of when these emotions came about. 

People are chattering all around you, strangers and former acquaintances are bustling about, familiar college classmates are greeting the bride-to-be’s high school classmates, and yet here you are: aloof and isolated even in a room of hundreds, fixated and more distant than you have ever been to the boy you had once cherished as the closest anyone could get to knowing the real you. 

No one would know but Jin. 

The real you.

The you who could not have moved on because she couldn’t recognize her own feelings until seven years down the road with a wedding invitation in hand, seven years after the buds had been sowed, seven years too late. 

The one who stands pathetically here in the corner of a room, secretly hoping for him to approach her but also wishing for the night to pass unnoticed just like she had wished for her buried affections to pass.  

So you shuffle in place awkwardly, pondering whether you should’ve caved into Alex’s pleas and attended this posh get-together, debating whether you should dip once your friend realizes her high school ex just isn’t worth it, sipping the remainder of opulent liquor and taking one last peek at the boy, when, your heart strikes loudly against your chest…

...because his eyes catch yours, a pair amongst hundreds, one invitee amidst an endless swarm of crowds, almost as if on a planned rendezvous, a secret unbeknownst to everyone in the room but the two of you.

Eyes widening in shock, the drums of your chest hammer against you, each strike pumping a nearly painful high that fuels your fight or flight mode. The debate between confronting your longtime friend and fleeing said friend did not even cross your mind at the start of the predicament. Quickly whirling around, head down and hands gripped to your drink, your feet move on its own. 

A familiar series of clicks echo against the polished marble tiles. You don’t even have to turn around to recognize those homecoming footsteps, those awe-inspiring confident strides as he makes his way across the room. If this were you from seven years ago, you would have welcomed him with open arms and he would have claimed you were just acting sweet to bargain for some fresh pastry, but the unfamiliarity of a stranger you have yet to reconcile with has you in an unexplainable panic. 

After all, it’s hard to explain why exactly his persistent pursuit after you, after seven years of distance, both emotional and physical, frustrates you to no ends. 

Your hands form fists, your feet storm down the halls, and your mind could repeat nothing but the words you had excused as “just a light-hearted joke.” 

You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance. 

Don’t be a homewrecker.

A baby in her.

A baby.

His fiance. 

A homewrecker.

The accusations echo and echo, as though screaming at you in the endless cave that is your mind, until the party fades, the crowd disappears, and the ear-piercing classical music wanes against the walls of your temporary solace, the bathroom. Finally, entrapped in a world of black—black tiles, wine colored walls, and dark red roses perched on top of what seems to be a black granite sink—you’re left alone to your thoughts. 

Alex wouldn’t understand a seven-year-long regret because she doesn’t know the real history between you and Jin. In fact, no one invited to this engagement party nor does anyone in this whole mansion know of the soon-to-be groom’s past. 

It isn’t as simple as people might make it out to be on the surface, because no one but you, Jin, and the street down your block had paid witness to a shoddy, spontaneous promise that should have never been made. 

Turning on the faucet and splashing a fresh handful of cold water onto your face, your eyes eventually wander from the stream of water that flows down the drain up along the glass bowl of a sink and into the mirror to meet the sullen eyes of a girl, seven years older with a stain of regret that spans much longer that a mere seven years. 

❀ ❀ ❀

“Waaah,” the boy exclaims as you watch your own reflection narrow its eyes at the image beside you. The spectacle persists to angle his chin every which way until he’s finally satisfied with the protrusion of his jawline; and as the boy resumes his daily activity of marveling at himself in awe, you have to wonder once again, for the hundredth time by now, just how you two had possibly become best friends. “Looking good, Jin. Looking real good.”

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes and feign nausea, “narcissist.” 

Jin pauses in the midst of his inspection, allowing his phone to settle into his lap and turning to glance at you with his head as high—well, almost as high—as his ego. “When you look as good as this,” he gestures at himself and your eyes follow his crafty fingers up and down, “don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t be all up in yourself.”

You blink your eyes blankly and start with the most accusatory tone you could muster, “excuse you, Kim Seokjin, but are you saying that I don’t look good?” 

“You’re insisting that yourself, not me! It’s not my fault you can’t appreciate your God-given looks,” Jin raises his hands mercifully and you almost miss his latter, back-handed compliment when you become entranced by those double-jointed fingers of his. “Plus, I said ‘when you look as good as this.’”

“Psh, yeah,” you mumble, “and yet here you are, still as forever alone as ever.”

“Hey,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at you even as he raises his phone to take yet another selfie, “and what does that say about you?”

“...and that’s exactly why,” you chirp as you hastily smush your cheek against his and throw a peace sign just as he snaps a photo, “we’re gonna be forever alone together!” 

“Hey, why’re you ruining my selfie—” he pauses in the middle of his camera roll “—oh, we actually look good.”

Glimpsing at one of many candid photos of you and him, a helpless smile spreads across your lips. A warm breeze blows and you can practically smell the impending spring that breathes life into the pink buds hovering on the cherry tree above you. The sun’s embrace against your bare legs that lie beside your best friend’s on the red and white checkered picnic is a perfect compliment to the equally bright phenomena that are his high-pitched giggles; and like the many days you’ve spent the past year, the only thing that could possibly elevate this moment of serenity would be a bite of his weekly pastry batches.  

Speaking as you chow down on the carbs, you quip, “you mean you look good?” 

“That, too, but I meant us, together—” he articulates, cutting himself off abruptly when he snaps his head to find you digging into one of his many bread “—hey, who said you could start testing without me?!” 

“Too many selfies, too slow, too hungry,” you lean your head back to plop the remainder of the custard-filled bread into your mouth, “shmorry Jin, but dish ish delicious.”

Just as you lean forward and take another large bite out of the batch, Jin catches right up to you, snatching the remainder and plopping it right into his now-stuffed cheeks instead. Lips falling agape at the disappearance of your bite-size donut, you gawk at your best friend whomst chomps happily away with your piece in his mouth. 

You can still recall the heat of your cheeks after the first time he had ever proclaimed something that was yours as his—in fact, it wasn’t much long ago when Jin had nearly regurgitated a mouthful of mocha frappuccino after discovering you had sneaked in a sip or two prior—but now? Sharing commodities has become such second nature to you two that sometimes you wish he could return to his germophobic days just so you can hog all the food…

...and maybe to relive whatever magical flutters that had befallen you on that very first day.

“Of coursh ish delicious!” he manages to exclaim incoherently. “Kim Sheokjin baked it afta all!” 

“Yeah,” you take a long moment to gulp and make room for more food, “I think I prefer the ones with custard—”

“—so it’s a perfect batch just like m—”

“—almost perfect.”

You could see yourself wink through the prideful glint in his eyes quickly plummet into a glare that has you laughing at the downfall of his indestructible ego. His playful glare through the corner of his narrowed eyes silently commences yet another one of your daily staring challenges. Maybe that’s why the two of you made such a perfect pair amongst the thousands of classmates at school. After all, how would Jin ever find someone as tolerant of his incessant dad jokes and perpetual ego as you are? And how would you ever find someone who would bake you goods and cook you lunch and, not to mention, spout such peculiar humor? 

All of your classmates had dubbed the two of you as the perfect comedy duo—the dumb and the dumber, the silly and the sillier—that, apparently, is the essence of a match made in heaven, albeit probably meant to be more platonically than romantically. 

Both too stubborn to lose, even in a meaningless game of a staring contest, not even the heat of the sun rays that has you two nearly sweating bullets could deter the match. Eventually, seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into a frenzy frozen moment in time as you start to fall into the sudden abyss you found yourself in that is the warmth pool of his eyes. 

Perhaps it’s the angle at which the rays strike theatrically on the apples of his cheeks, illuminating his dewy skin and enhancing the chocolate hues of his orbs hidden underneath the matching brown locks of his all whilst his eyes happen to be staring right back at you. You’ve never quite felt this way before—heart palpitating, throat constricting, and mind panicking—but for the first time ever, you’re hesitant in allowing your best friend to peer through the windows to your soul. 

This isn’t good. What would he do if he were to discover your frenzy? Would he tease you to no ends? 

Worse yet, would he falsely assume that you’re hardcore crushing on him…?

“Oh God,” you blurt out, breaking eye contact to avert your head to the side across the street. Your lips begin to mumble whatever comes first to mind, “uh, wow, look at that couple. Ugh, PDA—” your eyes flicker to find Jin raising a brow just before your eyes avert once again and he follows your line of sight “—am I right?” 

“Oh c’mon! Just admit it,” Jin chides. “You’re only using this to disguise the fact that you were just about to blink, weren’t you?” 

“I was not about to blink,” you insist but your shifty gaze tells the both of you otherwise, even if the true lack of confidence is unbeknownst to Jin. “You suck at staring contests. How many times have I won before? I was just distracted, okay?”

“Oh yeah?” Jin crosses his arms. “Distracted by what, then? Huuuh? By my devastatingly good looks?”

“No!” you exclaim almost too adamantly that you have to add in a nervous laugh at the end, which only has Jin staring at you in utter disbelief. Feigning an apologetic pressed smile, you gesture your hands in the direction of the couple supposedly hidden behind a fence but clearly exposed to those on a hill, otherwise known as you two. “I meant them—”

“—ew!”

The both of you exclaim in unison, selflessly covering the tarnished eyes of the other and ducking away from the moment of intimacy that you two had just intruded on. 

“Aw, cmon! Even after graduation, too?” Jin remarks, mouth gaping and hands falling from your shielded eyes only to be thrown to his side in bewilderment. “Does everyone really have to remind us just how lonely we are even on our last day?” 

“You mean how lonely we are and how lonely we will be for the rest of our lives?”

“For the rest of our lives?” Jin quirks a brow at you before shaking his head and shrugging. “Dang, that wasn’t exactly my plan, because the world will be forced to acknowledge my looks sooner or later, but I mean, in your case…”

“What?!” you gasp in disbelief, slapping his arm hard enough for him to wince. “What do you mean ‘in your case?’ I bet you haven’t even kissed someone yet!” 

Jin snarls at you as he pulls his arm back and retorts, “yeah? And I bet you haven’t either!” 

“Actually, I have, with Joon at that party last year,” you say smugly, crossing your arms with a chin held high, “and you just admitted you haven’t had your first kiss yet.”

“Psh, yeah, I haven’t, and?" the boy holds his head high akin to a child arguing with his body and not with his words. “Because I prefer to save it for something meaningful unlike someone here.” 

“Hey, are you insinuating that it wasn’t meaningful?”

“You’ve always told me how much you hated parties!” he throws his hands up. “Plus, you don’t even like Joon! You said his breath stinks!” 

“Well—” you pause but no words come to you except for a loud grunt “—ugh, fine. You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” he turns away, leaning into his right hand with an elbow propped against his crisscrossed lap. “I’m Kim Seokjin, after all.” 

Following suit, you mumble into your propped hand, “I guess that’s why we’re friends in the first place. Together and, yet, still forever alone.”

“Hey, I said I don’t plan on being forever alone.”

“Right, right,” you brush him off, “tell me that when you actually get a girlfriend—actually, tell me that when you find someone to marry who doesn’t run for their life just one month into your relationship.” 

“‘Marry?!’” he gawks at your demand. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and you’re talking about marriage?!”

“What?” you turn to face him, cheek resting in hand. “Didn’t you say the world would soon recognize your charms?”

“Hmph, well,” he says with a jutted lower lip, “definitely sooner than you.”

“Really?” you gape at his bold proclamation despite clearly being the one with the upperhand. “You really think you’re gonna get married before me?” 

Your best friend doesn’t even bother glancing at you before answering, “bet.”

“Okay, if you win, then I’ll eat the crust to your breads whenever you want. I’ll even throw in a bonus for you and spare your wife from having to see fetus photos of you in college,” you can only snicker at the lightbulb that goes off in his widened eyes. “And if I win, then you’ll have to eat my crust and delete all the ugly photos you have of me on your phone.”

“Sorry, can’t do. That would take me an eterni—”

“—shut up.” 

“Okay, fine, bet,” he cackles, straightening his back and stretching his arms out before him, “and what if neither of us ever get married?”

“Hm,” you purse your lips, “good point. Should we set a time cap to our bet? Ideally, if I want to have a stable job and income by 25, have children by 30, enjoy two or three years of marriage without kids, then…”

“Why do you have to have children by 30?” Jin frowns. “Why set all these unrealistic standards on yourself?” 

Putting a finger to hush his lips, you almost find yourself distracted by the plush warmth against your skin. Quickly, you answer, “long story short: parents.”

“Ah,” he utters even as your fingers are pressed to his lips, “ditto.” 

“Let’s set the cap to 27,” you propose. “If neither of us get married by the age of 27, then we’ll just call off the bet. But damn—” the two of you simultaneously lean your chins into your palms “—that means we’re really gonna be a disappointment to our parents forever, huh?” 

A loud, heavy sigh escapes the both of you; and while you stay pouting into your hands, staring into the fresh green grass on the downside of the hill off in the distance, Jin props his hands back against the blanket and cranes his neck back to look off into the distant sky. You hadn’t noticed it until now, but for a devilishly dashing guy like Jin—broad shoulders, facial features that could only be gifted, and a prominent Adam’s apple, especially with his head rolled to the back like this—you have to admit his lonely status must have been much more of a choice to Jin than it is for you; because even for someone like you, his best friend who gets to stare at his profile for as long you desire in all its glory, you have yet to become desensitized to his dazzling visuals that is anything but normal.

As much as you hate to admit it, even now, with a clear blue sky, an array of warm pastry aroma, and a field of freshly cut grass, you can’t help but become enamored by the person before you. 

And when another sigh befalls his lips and the two of you have settled into a comfortable silence and a breeze passes by the both of you, rustling a dozen or so of the hovering cherry petals to grace the surrounding air, he speaks. 

“Let’s get married if we’re still single by then.” 

“...huh?”

“I said,” only his eyes move to peer down at you effortlessly, “if we both lose the bet, then let’s get married.”

Your eyes pop and you can only utter the few words that reach you, “to each other?” 

“No, to food,” he says sarcastically, grabbing a piece of his bread and stuffing your face with it when you continue to stare at him and he shuffles awkwardly in place. Looking away, he mumbles, “of course to each other, who else, dummy?”

“Uh….huh,” you blankly nod your head as a series of laughs are stifled by the bread. “Okay, and you’re being serious?”

He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “uhuh.”

“Pffft, and you’re saying you would keep that promise? That you would even remember this moment? We’re just gonna marry? Like that? And you’re assuming I’m just going to agree?”

“Hey,” he turns to frown at you, “why wouldn’t you agree? I’m offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

Munching down on the bread, you continue to play along in amusement, “really? And what exactly are you offering me? You know I have high standards, right? I’m not just going to accept any proposal.”

“I know. That’s why you’re still single…” the boy deadpans, even as you glare at his remark, “...but, that’ll all change when you witness my proposal! Hear me out. First, I’ll cook every meal for you for the entire day.”

“You almost already do that except for breakfast.”

“Okay, but I’ll hone my skills by then. It’ll be even better than any restaurant we’ve ever been to.”

You raise a brow, “so you think food is the way to my heart?”  

“No offence, but yes, that’s why we’re friends,” he quips before continuing, “second, I’ll bring flowers to you at work. Everyone at your job will be burning with jealousy!”

“Because of your public display of affection, which we both clearly disdain?” 

“No, because they would wonder how you have such a handsome boyfriend like me!” he wags his finger. “Plus, who doesn’t like a little PDA when they’re about to be proposed to?” 

“Okay, fair enough, but those are two promises you’re making for the proposal. A marriage is a lifelong commitment. Why would I want to marry you just for food and flowers?”

“Hmmm, even for someone like you, I’m surprised you have so many requirements,” Jin hums, tapping his finger on his chin. “How about this, I’ll make three more promises for our marriage.”

“Quit saying ‘our marriage,’ I keep shuddering at the thought of it,” you remark as you rub your arms. 

“Third promise, I won’t break your achey breaky heart,” he deliberately emphasizes each word in a fruitful attempt to send shivers down your spine. “Fourth promise, I’ll remember all of my promises.”

“Okay… and fifth?”

“I’ll keep all of my promises! And I’ll do it all right here at this spot. Our spot.”

“What? That’s dumb,” you giggle. “Just keep it at four, then.”

“No,” he grabs the bagel in your hands and fills his mouth without a second of hesitation, “ish eashier to wememba fibe promishesh.”

“Right, right, right,” you nod, pressing your lips in a vain attempt to muffle your chuckles. “And what promises would you want me to make?”

“You?” he quirks a brow before shaking his head. “Nothing. You’re fine. I like you just the way you are.”

Huh. Has Jin always been this nice? Because you don’t quite recall ever feeling the heat of an oncoming blush of your cheeks or the bashful flutters that come with your best friend’s witty remarks. Maybe the topic of marriage has thrown you off today or maybe it’s the aftermath of a high having just graduated college and being thrusted into adulthood, but the stretched smile that adorns your lips is an undeniable fact that your confidence and spontaneity has reached its pinnacle.

Grinning, you lean across Jin’s lap to grab and unlock his phone to access the camera, “okay, wanna take a photo to commemorate this moment?”

“Gee, if you want a photo of me that bad, you could just ask me to send you a selfie, y’know—what the,” Jin starts to cackle when you raise the phone into the air and suddenly press your cheeks against his without warning. With a side-finger gun to frame his cheeks and chin, your best friend readies his pose as you wear a mischievous smile. “Hurry up and take the picture already, Y/N. My time is money.” 

“Hey Jin,” you call out to him with your eyes still fixated to the phone screen, as does his. 

The boy almost drags his words, “now what?”

“You’ve never had a girl kiss you on the cheeks before either, right?”

“What—”

—click.

“There,” you chirp jubilantly, grinning at the stunned look on his face, his eyes popping and his lips just slightly parted but failing to utter a single word as his hand grazes the spot on his cheeks where your lips had just touched, “now you have zero excuses to forget our promise!”

❀ ❀ ❀

That must have been the last time you had met up with Jin in person. Shortly after graduation, the two of you had parted ways as many are forced to do in order to embark on their lives as full-fledged adults. Being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Jin had been lucky enough to receive a job offer straight out of college with the help of family connections; although, even without his family name, you whole-heartedly believe he still would have managed on his own based off of his unparalleled work ethic that you had the chance to witness firsts-handedly. 

On the other hand, your parents had advised you to stay home, which happened to mean you would be stuck in the same town of your college, until you finally landed a decent job where you had met Alex and established a new life. Unfortunately, like life always does, all that busywork meant sacrificing contact with your best friend somewhere along the way.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”

“Ah, shit,” you mutter under your breath as you stop in the midst of your tracks down the black-marbled hallway, gritting your teeth and composing yourself just as you’ve done countless times around your less than friendly colleagues. Taking a deep breath in and out, you put on a pleased smile and whirl around to find the face of a familiar boy in your most recent reveries. “Ahh, hey, Jin... It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Ah,” the man, who seems to have grown at least or three inches since you had last seen him, scratches the back of his head. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight… how have you been?”

This is awkward. So painfully awkward. 

“Me? Oh, I’ve been alright. Life. Adulting. You know the drill,” you press a thin smile. “Actually, I’m surprised to be seeing you here tonight. I still remember us whining all throughout college over being forever alone, and yet here we are… at your engagement party… life can be funny, huh?” 

“Y—” he stutters, scratching the back of his neck “—yeah… it can be.” 

“So,” you chirp in a fruitless attempt to lift the suffocating atmosphere, “the wedding is coming up pretty soon! Feeling good or is someone getting cold feet?” 

He shakes his head weakly, “I wear socks to sleep.” 

“Wh—” you pause for a quick second, blinking blankly at his soft chuckle and following suit shortly after “—why do your jokes sound like you’re 22 again?” 

The man shrugs with a helpless smile hinted in the corners of his lips; and when it happens—you don’t know how or when the silence had whisked you away into a past time—you find him gazing at you with that fondness of a sole friend who endlessly shared and fought informidable woes with you. Perhaps you’re a hopeless romantic frozen between the fork of two roads that have long closed, for you swear you can see your own reflection through his warm brown eyes and you surmise the only possible answer to the question that lingers in your mind. 

He must see the same friend in you, that girl he would only call friend.

“You’ve been preparing your whole life for this, or, actually, maybe I should say we’ve been preparing,” you smile to stifle the lurching ache in your chest, “I guess I’m the only fool waiting for her turn now.” 

A weep cracks the laugh you force out of your knotted throat. Immediately, you turn your head to avoid his watchful gaze and tuck a lock of hair behind an ear whilst discretely ridding any traces of waterworks welling in your vision. You think you must have gotten away with the feigned laugh and turn, a routine you had mastered at your previous work, but the gradual dissolution of the curve on his lips settles into an unreadable flatline more resembling a frown than anything; because even after all these years, he can still read you like an open book. 

So, if he could see through your every facade even now, then why does he not remember? You know you shouldn’t hold it against him, such a silly promise built on a lonesome pair of naive hearts,  but you can’t help it when a single word paints your conscience. 

Why?

Why can’t he remember? 

Your shared promises, your birthday, your memories, and... you?

“Y/N,” Jin begins gently, hesitating in place once he takes a step forward and you flinch, “about the wedding date…”

He waits for you to reply, supposedly for ‘whenever you were ready’, as he always does during those fragile lows of yours. 

To avoid letting loose any more unneeded drama, you can only manage a hum, “mm?”

“I…” he pauses and sighs. “I know it’s your birthday.”

A hitch in your breath is audible. You clamp your lips tightly and nod, uttering lowly, “yeah.”

“I want you to know I didn’t decide the date, Y/N,” he says firmly, “my father did.” 

“And?” you quip suddenly, eyes darting to shoot a glower deadly enough for him to twitch in evident hurt. There, you went ahead and did it. As hard as you had spent the past months muting your rawest reaction to the envelope in your mailbox, all the pent up frustration and sheer sorrow for a lost future came whiplashing just as hard. “And you couldn’t tell your father to change the date? Maybe one day after? Or two?” 

“You know I would have asked if I could, Y/N,” he bites his tongue to state sternly, “but how would he understand? Change it for… for what—”  he laughs cruelly in the midst of his burst “—for the birthday of a best friend I lost contact with for five whole years?! That’s so… so dumb—” 

“—dumb…?”

The crack in your voice leads to a stagnant silence over what is clearly a no man’s land. Betrayal visibly paints across your face, the momentary display of having wronged his closest ally stains his own. 

“Sorry, I didn’t meant that...”

“‘...yeah, you’re right,” you scoff, “I’m dumb for waiting five whole damn years’ because you wouldn’t fucking text me or call me to ask how I was doing!”

“Me?” he asks in disbelief, gawking and pointing an accusatory finger. “You wouldn’t even pick up your phone! I called you for a month after I moved!” 

“I couldn’t pay for my phone, alright?! I was living with my parents and scrambling to find a job, any fucking low wage job, and I couldn’t sit all day in my room waiting for your calls because I’m not born with a silver spoon stuck in my ass!” 

At this point, the conversation had somehow contorted into an all out brawl of words, a challenge to see who could blame the other for the unsaid confessions lost in communication. The two of you staring down the other, chest heaving and jaws clenching and brows knitting, if it weren’t for your fortunate location tucked in the hallway hidden from the main room, you would not have allowed yourself to fall, lost somewhere in the depth of his eyes. 

“Why are you so upset?” a weak, hopeless laugh tumbles from his confused, pained expression. “Aren’t you supposed to be happy for me?” 

“I—” something gets caught in your throat and you have to choke it out “—I am. I am happy for you. I’m not upset, no…”

Jin reaches a hand out to your cheek when he notices your tears but immediately retracts his notion when you flinch backwards. The boy frowns in concern, “Y/N… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. How did I upset you?”

“Nothing,” you frantically shake your head that hangs low, using the back of your hands to smear every sign of contradiction on your face. “I just—” your breath shakes and an impending series of hiccups begins to kick in “—I’m silly. I should be happy for my best friend. I mean, I am happy. I’m just being dumb.” 

“What?” Jin carefully takes a step forward. “No you’re not—”

“—I’m dumb, okay, Jin?” you finally muster the courage to lift your sights to find his own confused ones. “It’s been five whole years and I’m embarrassed for taking a joke of a promise so seriously when my best friend doesn’t even remember making it!” 

The scrunch in his brows and lost resolution only reverberate the deafening ache in your chest. “The promises…? Y/N, I—”

“—it’s fine,” you blurt. Shaking your head and stumbling backwards, you look him straight in the eyes to say your last words before the fading knocks of your heels against the wood are all that he hears. “It's my fault for believing in a foolish fairytale anyways.”

❀ ❀ ❀

It’s almost like a fever dream when you recall just how confidently you had spat those spiteful words and furthermore dared to depart with that sheer satisfaction and the slightest aftertaste of alcohol residing on your tongue that night; but now that you’re awake, sober, and without the power of liquor, there’s nothing that can pull you out of your greatest nightmare most recently manifested into reality. 

“Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that?” 

The incessant grumbles tumble freely from your lips whilst you pace back and forth in the corner of the office. Typically, your colleagues would describe you as composed, reserved, and the level-headed half of an otherwise wild pair with Alex. This morning, however, they begin to question everything they’ve ever known about you as they watch through the corner of their averting eyes. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone!” Alex hisses under her breath along with the threatening glares she shoots at the audience. Considering how long you’ve been going at your mental breakdown, it doesn’t take very long for your shuffling footsteps and mumbling gibberish to transcend into yet another white noise in the office; and once the majority of the passersby settle on the new revelation of your hidden crazed nature, Alex hastily storms to your side as you begin banging your head against the wall. “Why would you throw a tantrum at your best friend’s engagement party?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying…” you pause momentarily to groan before proceeding to damage whatever is left of your seemingly deteriorating brain. “Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do—”

“—not to mention, an ex best friend who never even knew about your unrequited feelings—”

—she comes to an abrupt stop when she finds the deadliest scowl in your dart-like eyes. No words are exchanged but the lethal consequences are clear enough to grant you her silence and the continuance of your destruction. 

“Why the hell did I do that, Alex?” you whimper, taking a break from your antics because, damn, your forehead is really starting to hurt. “Whyyyyyyy did you have to leave me alone? Maybe Jin wouldn’t have found me and I wouldn’t have had to confront him over something that shouldn’t even matter anymore! I-I barely even know him… it’s been five years and, suddenly, here I am, voila! At his engagement banquet, yelling in his face and getting mad over feelings that aren’t even his fault!” 

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol.”

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol,” you retort. Taking a deep breath, you let out a sigh along with the scowl plastered across your face. Your next words come out more as a helpless confession of fear than a rhetorical question to be answered. “Do you think he… hates me…?”

Alex observes you for a lingering second, perhaps contemplating between a merciful albeit exacerbating answer and a merciless albeit helpful answer. She speaks carefully, treading dangerous water, “well… would you like him to?”

“I don’t know,” you shut your eyes to heave yet another sigh because that weight in your chest refuses to leave you alone. An unapologetic swinging of the door and a series of loud, wide strided footsteps that follow have your brows furrowing and it takes everything in you and Alex, judging by the sudden shuffles you hear by your side, to finish the rare heart-to-heart conversation. “I think… I think if he hated me, maybe that would extinguish that part of me from the past. If he hated me, I would be able to get over it. Maybe I would hate him too, out of spite, but at least I would be able to get over—””

“—it…? Over what, Y/N?”

Over what? It takes you much longer than it should have for you to surmise the most probable answer to her question, an answer you were never willing to admit and an answer you aren’t quite sure you’re ready to admit even now. 

“You know what I’m implying, Alex,” you sigh, shutting your eyes even tighter when a rising heat marks your cheeks. “I want to get over—”

—but your words are cut short by a familiar voice that has your heart racing and striking an unprecedented strife in the mayhem that is your systemic state...

“You can’t possibly hate me, Y/N,” he proudly proclaims and you can practically hear him smiling, “no one ever hates Kim Seokjin.” 

...and when your eyes finally flutter open, you find the man, who had only seemed like a phenomenon of your feverish dream a second ago, standing before you and adorning that signature smile with raised cheek apples and crescent-like eyes that has yet to change under the influence of time and distance. 

“W-What are you doing here…?” you barely manage to utter. Eyes flickering around your surroundings, from Jin’s broad shoulders that shield nearly the entirety of a helpless albeit buoyant Alex, to your colleagues who fail to discreetly whisper over the lavishly suited mystery of a man, and finally back to the bouquet of pastel flowers wrapped with a bright pink bow. Brows furrowing, you struggle to organize your thoughts and even go so far as to check for the dent in your reddish forehead in a vain attempt to dispel the mind tricks. When the mirage before you fails to dissipate into thin air like sand, you slowly turn to face the wall again only to have your antics disrupted by his refreshingly cold hand on your burning forehead ; and when you turn, you find Jin’s mischievous smile growing wider by the second. “H-how do you know where I work…?”

“I’m your best friend, Y/N. Have you somehow forgotten after all that head banging?” Jin scoffs in disbelief, gawking with a chuckle. Suddenly, he leans in to grab your right hand firmly in his own, squeezing twice as he had always done and leading you toward the exit. “C’mon, let’s go recover those memories of yours, eh?” 

“Wait, wait,” you nearly stumble over your own feet at the pace he’s going, struggling to catch your breath when he bursts through the last door and a blast of freezing wind envelops the clash of the heat reverberating from your beating heart. “I have to go back! I still have work! And, and… and where in the world are you even taking me?” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Y/N, so many dumb questions for someone who always topped my grades,” the boy holds the bouquet of flowers out toward you, refusing to continue until you reluctantly accept his gift with your left hand against your chest. Smiling at your reluctant acceptance, Jin turns his back on you and proceeds to march into the parking lot but his now warm hands intertwined with your now cold hands never loosens its grip. 

It’s been a long five years of waiting to finally relish in the hold of his familiarly slim, often teased albeit self-praised double-jointed hands, but, now that you’re finally living in it, you’re sure it was all worth it… even if the crashing flames at the end of this road is an inevitable, foreseeable future.

“Jin,” you frown as you stare at Jin’s opening of the car door and gesture of an invitation, reluctantly seating yourself in his sumptuous car. “I failed half of my exams... remember?”

The boy’s laughs can still be heard even through the closed door as he makes his way around the car front, all whilst swinging the keys in his forefinger. His cackling steps an abrupt many levels of decibels higher when the opposing door opens and he plops into the driver seat. “That never stopped you from boasting, did it?” 

Without the flare of your usual clever quips, you purse your lips in silence and subconsciously hug the bouquet closer to your chest to keep his space as unoccupied by your presence. The sudden turn of events has your head spinning and your heart racing enough for the thumps to be felt by your hands. 

How did he find out where you worked? Where was he even taking you and what was he planning to do with you? Why was he acting as if you had not angered him just two nights ago? 

You don’t think you’ll be getting the answer any time soon, particularly the latter question, but when your stomach growls loudly, eliciting a crackle of a laugh from Jin, the awkward tension in your muscles eases ever so slightly. 

“...s-sorry… I skipped breakfast.”

“I know,” he puts the car into neutral at the red light and turns to peer at you with a smug look that says he could still read you like an open book, “because you always skip breakfast. I hid some pastry in the bouquet.” 

“What?” you scrunch your nose but immediately dive your scavenging hands into the flowers; and sure enough, you find your favorite cream-filled bread of his warm in your hands and you can’t stifle the smile that spreads on your lips. “Why would you even do that?”

“Well, in case you suddenly got really jacked and physically refused to come with me, then at least you would have something to eat.”

“No,” you giggle, “I meant why would you hide the bread in the bouquet…”

His eyes brighten like a lightbulb, as if only now recalling the genius plan he had crafted himself, “oh, because then you can sneak a bite without having to leave your desk! It always worked with our backpacks, didn’t it?” 

Your sights fall to the bouquet and you can only reply with a sheepish grin, “right… it sure did.”

The engine purrs to life again when the light turns green and the remainder of the car ride is filled with the smooth drift of his ride and the ceaseless albeit completely welcomed humming from his lips. The old Jin never had enough of an incentive to drive, although his parents always suggested gifting him a brand new car and you had begged him to take the offer out of boredom and a never-ending desire to escape far away from university, but something about this moment in time has you feeling cozy, belonging, and at home. It’s almost like it was meant to be. 

But the silver ring shining around his finger under the angle of the sun is a dreadful reminder that it isn’t. 

So, as a slap to yourself back into reality, you fracture this perfect moment you would have once framed in that hopeless mind of yours, “so… how did you find out where I worked?”

“Ah,” his right hand casually slips onto the back of your headrest. “Still haven’t figured out, rank 292?”

“No, I haven’t, rank 295.” 

“First,” he raises a finger, “I asked some people through the grapevines and eventually your friend Alex gave out.”

Grumbling under your breath, you curse, “damn it, Alex.”

“And second,” he raises another finger before proclaiming firmly, “I’m proving you wrong.” 

“Proving me wrong?” you articulate with a scoff. “You’re going to prove me wrong? Right, keep dreaming.”

“I’m not going to prove you wrong, I am proving you wrong," he insists before shifting the car to neutral and leaning in toward you, gaze brimming with conviction locked with your own wary ones, as if ready to spill a secret sworn by the two of you and hidden from the rest of the universe. 

He's close enough for his minty breath to graze your burning cheeks, to breathe a vigorous life previously unknown by your dull five years. Heart pumping and lungs barely working, daring not to budge for being caught under the sway of his gravitational force, you can hardly catch him when he finally speaks.

"I haven't forgotten, Y/N,” he utters, “I'm a man of my word."

❀ ❀ ❀

Promise one. 

"I'll cook every meal for you for an entire day."

Promise two. 

"I'll bring flowers to you at work."

His unabashed, overly detailed tactic to ask for your hand in marriage still echoes from a time long past. Hopes for those promises were weakened by each passing second but unequivocally unassailed at birth. Eventually, smothered and disheartened, you had been forced to cut ties and confront the reality of broken promises and broken dreams. You had once somehow convinced yourself things would never return to the ways they once were, and, yet, here he is having returned by your side and here you are enraptured by the utter joy in his laughs after all this wavering time. 

It's like a dream come true; and if this indeed all just a nightmarish dream bound to death, you wish you never swore allyship to this alcohol, for now your only wish is for it to succumb you into a deep, long slumber. 

“I toooooooold you I don’t like paaaaasta!” you whine, the drag of your voice manifesting in white puffs in the still chilly spring air. The sudden transition between the warmth of his house to the frozen world outside has you spiraling into a series of trips and stumbles; and as always, your best friend Jin is the only one to hold you up, which is a good thing considering how you would’ve been tumbling into the death trap of a river beneath this bridge. “So whyyyy did you make me pastaaaaaaa? Whyyyyyyy?”

“What? Why’re you blaming me?” he retorts, obviously taking offence. “You always loved pasta! You ate it every single day at uni!” 

“I diiiiid love pasta,” you say through barely parted lips, “but it’s all just… just carbs, carbs, carbssss…” 

“Since when did you care about carbs?” Jin frowns, poking your cheeks that lean against his sturdy arms. “Should I call the police?” 

Your brows furrow and you lift your head to narrow your eyes at him, “what? Why?” 

And as soon as those words slip from your lips and he raises his finger-gun hands, you wish you hadn’t asked in the first place. 

“Because I think you’re an impasta,” his finger guns transform into jazz hands after you stare at him in dumbfounded silence, “...badumtsss….”

A series of empty blinks are exchanged, as if neither of you had just witnessed his most tragic dad joke to date; and so, you swiftly continue with a sigh, “I think… I think I started caring ever since heee mentioned I was getting fat.”

“I can’t believe you just ignored my unprecedented joke…” he grumbles to himself but lets out a little huff when he catches you from tipping over. Wordlessly, he hooks his arm with yours to keep you close to him. “And this ‘he’ you mention, who’s he?” 

“Heee.” 

“Who? Who’s ‘heeee’?” he spouts with pouty lips and a raised chin, flailings his body, and therefore yours, about every which way like a toddler. “Who’s this man I have to beat up, huh? He better square up!”

“I don’t think you could beat him up…” you mumble, eyes heavy but determined enough to reach his own flabbergasted ones. “It’s Jooooon, dummy, Kim-Nam-Joon, the boy I shared my first kiiiiss with…”

“Kim Namjoon?!” his eyes widen. “You think I wouldn’t be able to beat up that nerd?!”

You almost manage to push Jin away the foot of the bridge if it weren’t for his firm lock around you. “Have you seen his muscles?! He might not look like it with his books and all but he worked out all the time!”

“Yeah, well,” his lips sputter, “well, have you seen my muscles?!”

“No—” you freeze when you realize the sturdiness of his arm against your head is existing proof against your word, and maybe it’s because of his obvious flexing at this moment, but you could not believe just how built his arms had grown in the past five years, “—and I don’t want to.” 

“Hah! You just don’t want to admit that I’m right. C’mon, I’ll show you. You feel it, huh? You feel it?” he flexes persistently, twisting and turning to maximize his little showcase. “So? You think I can beat him up now?” 

“Well…” your voice trails off, mind clearly preoccupied with sticking your cheeks to his arm like glue in a somewhat fruitful attempt to hide the flush in your face. “You don’t really need to beat him up…”

“What?” he almost yells. “Why not? He called you fat!”

“Well, he…” your shoulders rise with each confession, “he said one of my dresses looked tight on me…”

“And?”

“...and he wasn’t exactly wrong…”

“So?”

“...so he didn’t actually say anything offhandedly…”

“What? You should’ve told me earlier!” Jin exclaims, arms thrown high into the air and consequently pushing your helpless self onto the hillside grass beside the run of the river. Lips gaping and eyes popping, you watch him in full offense as he mumbles to himself before resuming his stroll down the hill. “And here I am getting worked up over nothing… can’t believe I thought I could play hero for once…”

“Hey, Jin, what do you mean by that?” you call out to him. “Wait! I said wait for me, Jin!”

When your rhetorical questions are answered with silence, you hasten to your feet in order to catch up with those damn wide strides of his. Damn it, how did he make it halfway down the hill already? Each of your exclamations are unsurprisingly disobeyed by the boy who just throws his head back over his shoulder with that cheeky grin of his as he quickened his pace. Following suit, your strides turn into a jog and your jogs turn into a full out sprint until the both of you are full on running the 100 meters dash, one chasing and one fleeing, wind blowing refreshingly into your heated face and into your tangled locks and inflated lungs that relish in the breath of life. 

In the midst of all the chaotic bliss of an epiphany, you find yourself screaming and laughing at the top of your lungs...

“Hey! Jin! I swear I”m gonna kick your ass!”

...and it’s at this moment in time that you realize having forgotten what it means to be a fool who lived and not to live to be a fool. 

At some point in time, after having caught up to the knucklehead and giving a piece of your mind, the two of you settle down along the concrete ledge beside the river after a jittery, welcomed high. The sunset that followed was a pleasant surprise that had you two reminiscing over the countless mornings and evenings you had spent watching the sun rise and set together whilst churning throughout tireless exam nights. Pink, golden streaks now hidden behind a thick coating of midnight blue embellished by magical glitters all throughout, tonight’s stargazing becomes a first for the two of you. 

As much as you hoped you could numb yourself from the inevitable aftereffects of this death wish of a dreamy day, you can’t help but smile, thankful to have been completely sober to engrave this night into memory. 

“So...” Jin’s utter is the first to break the silence. He turns his head to give you a playful look of eyes that beams with wary curiosity, “...you started dating Namjoon after I left?”

“Mm… maybe,” you hum, “why? Got a problem with that?”

“What? Psh, what? Why would I have a problem with that?” he snorts. “The only problem I would have is the fact that you never asked me for permission.”

Your eyes widen, almost threateningly, “are you saying I need permission from a man to date another man? Not to mention a man who abandoned me without warning!” 

“Okay, first of all, it’s not my fault you cancelled your phone plan! I called and called, I tried everything I could even though I was deadbeat tired every day. It’s not my fault I thought you hated my guts! So please just understand that I didn’t abandon you, alright?” he spills in an endless stream akin to a water faucet left on the highest setting, clearly a performance either practiced in private or incited by years of pent up pressure. You can practically see the steam shooting out of his fiery red ears and the accompanying whistle manifesting into words; and by the time his chest is heaving, his lungs are panting and very dramatically so, and his eyes flicker nervously between you and the passing water, you can’t help but snicker. Unsurprisingly, your lack of empathy elicits an unamused look on his face. “Hey, hey, what’re you laughing at, huh?” 

“Me? Oh, nothing,” your hands move into your laps and you bat your eyes innocently, “it’s just that I can’t believe you’re blaming me, a helpless, poor girl with absolutely no connections, for cancelling her phone plan as a last resort to make ends meet.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he warns with an accusatory finger, “don’t you dare think I’ll fall for that eye blinking and whatever cute act you’re playing up again!” 

“Why?” you pout, almost cringing at your own antics. “Am I not cute?”

“No, you’re hurting my eyes. Plus, if anyone’s cute here,” he declares adamantly before puffing his cheeks and poking one with his forefinger, “it’s me.”

The both of you stare at the other for a stagnant few seconds, one completely dedicated to his performance and the other utterly flabbergasted by what plays out before her. 

The only word you manage to crank out is a, “uh…”

“What do you think?” he raises another finger to poke his other cheek. “I practiced just for you.” 

“Um… you’re 27 now, Jin.”

“So?” he tilts his head in the other direction. “Still 22 and young at heart.”

“Yeah? Then I’m still 22 and still equally disgusted by aegyo—” just as he parts his lips to provide another rebuttal, you quickly add in “—by your aegyo.” 

And just like that, the man drops his boyish character just as quickly as he had stepped into it. He mumbles, dropping his hands and shooting an equivocate look at you, “okay, tough crowd. Sorry, ma’am.”

It shouldn’t have been that hilarious nor should your response been so delayed, but it only takes a split second of his surrender for a thunderous cackle to slip from your lips. Throwing your head back and peering at the dangling stars above, you allow yourself a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath of the incoming wind. The fresh petrichor of spring and the earthiness of mowed grass whisks themselves into the cold, clean breeze from the vast body of water. Thin locks of hair grazes across your cheeks, swaying in the wind as does your spirit. Years are lifted from your shoulders and all that is left is the heaviness that remains in your chest; nevertheless, you have never felt so free from the past. 

“Also,” he adds nonchalantly, cocking his head to look at you, “I wasn’t speaking from the position of a man. I was speaking as a best friend. As your best friend.” 

And just like that, sitting side by side and sharing a cool breeze, it’s almost as if all these moments of remorse, spilled tears, and unreleased frustration were made to build the climax to this grand finale: the night you can finally speak your truth. 

“It’s funny how things never change, huh?” you say when your eyes flutter open and you find Jin looking over with a fondness identical to the one you’ve spotted years before. “We can split for five years, thinking one hates the other’s guts, and reunite again as best friends… as if nothing had ever happened.”

Jin chuckles, hands grabbing to the ledge and head lolling back to join you but his eyes remain fixated on you, “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Are we vampires and we just don’t know it?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure either… not sure about the good thing and not the vampire thing, that is,” your laugh settles into silence when you spot the reflected light inflicted by the ring around his finger, sitting on the ledge just an inch away from yours. Close enough to touch but far enough to confirm an unequivocal truth. Sighing, you turn your head to meet his intent gaze with a bittersweet upturn to your lips, “normally, I really despise the idea of change; but lately, when I think about how things might never change between us, how we’ll always banter as a pair of stupid best friends, I start wanting it more than ever.”

Is this the moment? Is it all really happening right now? Judging by the course of your blithe actions, if change is what you’re looking for, then change is what will surely ensue after tonight. Whether for the good or for the worse, you’ll take a reluctant guess of the latter. 

The man scrunches his brows before playing it off with a nervous laugh, “what do you mean things haven’t changed? You dated Namjoon, probably got it on a few times here or there—”

“—what—”

“—please don’t confirm,” he butts in with a raised hand, “and I have, too. Sure things have changed!”

“Ooh?” you raise a brow, genuinely shocked. “You finally got some experience under your belt? I’m impressed, Mr. Kim.”

“Hey,” he scolds, “what do you mean by ‘impressed?’” 

“Well, I should’ve known… figuring you’re about to be a married man and all…” you mumble, forcing a smile despite the sudden dip in your mood. Turning your head to stare off into the opposite end of the river where the black silhouette of skyscrapers lie, you curse yourself mentally. You really thought you could get away with the inevitable truth for the entire day? “You know, I can’t believe I almost forgot that you’re getting married in less than a week. Almost like how I couldn’t believe you almost forgot our promises.”

“I told you Kim Seokjin is a man of his words.”

“You sure about that? Promise one: cook for me for an entire day. Check. Promise two: gift me flowers at work. Check,” you turn around once again to look him firmly in the eyes and it’s almost as if the both of you know what’s about to come next. “What about the three other promises, Kim Seokjin?” 

“Y/N…” his voice trails off but his gaze never leaves yours, almost as if too afraid to be misconstrued as another betrayal. 

Quick-mindedly, you chime, “stop looking at me so seriously! I’m just joking! Promise three: you won’t break my heart. How could you after a wonderful day like this? Promise four: you won’t forget our promises. Clearly, you remember. And promise five: you’ll keep all your promises. Check.”

“Y/N,” he stifles every wince but you can tell by the way his feet have stopped kicking into the void. “I don’t think I’ve kept all those promises.” 

“Well,” you shrug, pressing your lips into a line tightly, “I only see checks in my book, Jin. You’re good to go—”

“—no, Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he says sternly; and when your mouth falls agape and your head slightly nods, his wary eyes searching for a steady sign in the windows to your soul, he continues calmly, “my marriage is actually an arranged marriage.”

“Your—” you blink blankly, jaw almost falling to the floor “—your, you, what?”

An arranged marriage. 

All this time, all this pain, all this heartbreak of wanting to do something about your feelings but remaining hopeless because of an unrequited love… turns out to be an active, fully conscious decision? Not a falling out of love, not a helpless affection for another woman, but a matchmaking handcrafted without the heavens?

“My,” he has to stop himself just as his breath hitches, “my father... arranged it. ” 

“What? Why? Is it because he prefers you with a well off family?” 

“What? No,” he shakes his head with a slight upcurve to his lips that you’ve never quite seen before. Watching him hook a hand to the nape of his neck, clearly avoiding your eyes, you have an inkling of something much worse than the presented news. “You know my father would never do that… it has nothing to do with money...”  

“But you left this town for money, didn’t you? For a better job, a better pay, a better life, and for the sake of your dignity as a dutiful son, are you telling me none of those were related to money?” 

His eye twitches by your name-calling, clearly pained once again despite knowing very well of your precedent dislike toward his silver spoon background and his nonnegotiable obedience. Each second of silence culminates a tension even more formidable than the last. Guilt intoxicates your boiling blood enough for you to bite your tongue and hold yourself back; because after accusing him of holding onto his dignity, you, yourself, could not forfeit that of your own either. 

Worse yet, you’re a complete hypocrite. 

“Why can’t you just tell him to call it off?” 

You never knew silence could be so deafening.

“So… so do you...” you begin hesitantly. Usually, with your eyes locked with his, a thousand words would have been exchanged with each passing second; but now, with gazes that wade through the tides of the unknown, for the first time ever, you don’t recognize the mystery before you. “Do you... love her?” 

His lips part slowly, but no time in the world would be enough for him to find the right words. To you, his silence is as clear as any possible answer. Something sinks in you, perhaps after acknowledging the implications behind his choice to leave your question unanswered, but your blood boils from the audacity of those apologetic eyes that, even now, never stray from yours… as if this minute of sincerity would be enough to mend the inevitable decade of scars. 

You begin slowly, failing to hide the shakiness of your deep breaths, “...then what about the baby?”

“What baby...?” his face contorts with a frown until, out of the blue, something flickers across his numerous expressions: confusion, remembrance, contemplation. His hesitation that ensues might have been fleeting but its infliction upon your shattered trust will surely remain. “Oh, that… that was just a rumor my aunt spread because of the sudden marriage.” 

“And,” you force yourself to breathe, scattering for something, anything to throw at him, “and you don’t think you could’ve told me sooner?”

The man scrunches his brows, “and that would’ve helped, how?” 

“‘How?’” you repeat, as if it was the dumbest question you had ever heard. Mirroring his expression, your eyes avert between him and the river as scoffs of utter disbelief escape you. “‘How?’ What do you mean ‘how?’”

“I mean exactly that!” his voice suddenly escalates to a level of frustration you’ve never quite heard from him before. “How would it have changed anything? Why would you need to know earlier?”

Gawking, you exasperate desperately, “you know why!” 

“No, I might be your best friend but don’t expect me to just read your mind!”

“It’s cause...” you swing your leg over the ledge to face the sidewalk with your back on Jin as soon as you could feel an incoming constriction at the back of your throat, a notorious sign shared just between the two of you that waterworks were about to appear. Breathing slowly and doing just about everything to keep your voice from shaking, and fruitlessly so, you mumble before standing to your feet, “...you know what? I don’t even know anymore. I’m sorry. Nevermind.”

Why did you ever think you would have a chance? 

Is this it? Is this really it? The end? 

The questions come crashing into you as you make your retreat, head hanging low and palms drying the inconvenient tears that mark your face. After all the confidence you had built up, after finally thinking—actually, believing—you could get over him tonight, how humiliating is it that you’re now running away from a reality that would eventually and inevitably engulf you? 

The worst part of it is, Jin, like the best friend and good man that he is, persists to chase after you. You don’t have to hear the quickened footsteps of his usual wide, well-paced strides to know he’s coming. You don’t have to hear the calls he makes on the top of his lungs for you to know he’s on his way. 

As someone who so helplessly fell in love with their best friend, you just know he would be there through thick and thin—whether you like it or not. 

“Y/N!” Jin hollers; and when he finally catches up to you, having to sprint and consequently inciting for you to surrender with an abrupt stop to your path, every bit of air is knocked from your lungs. Arms wrapping over your waist and enveloping you into a tight hug, you can feel his heart pounding against your back. 

To most, it should have been the perfect method to comfort a crying friend; so, damn it, why does it only make you cry harder? 

“What?” your voice cracks as you just barely manage to smear the following tears within the wrap of his bear hug. “Damn it, Jin, why can’t you leave me alone for once?”

Head resting on yours, his voice is muffled by your hair as he murmurs, “I can’t just leave my best friend crying like that. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry.” 

He embraces you. He embraces you not only physically through the silence but also through the emotional rollercoaster that comes with it. He, Kim Seokjin, your best friend, holds you through the ups and downs and the rights and the wrongs. He even holds you now, comforting you in the hurricane that you brewed without ever knowing and never caring that he had, in fact, not committed any wrongdoing. If anything, you must be in the wrong. 

And when you put it that way, how could you blame yourself for falling in love with him?

“Jin… I’m sorry, I tried everything to stop myself but,” your voice shakes but your courage prospers, “but I just, I just really, really love you.” 

A second passes. 

Now, two. 

Then, three. 

Something strikes against your chest when the surreality of the situation settles into reality. His silence could mean many things, but the tightening of his embrace could only mean one. Blood flushes your cheeks as you lament over his sensation of your fervent heartbeats. Secrets thrown out into the spring air, your heated cheeks are equally exposed to the passing, chilly zephyr. 

He knows you love him. At this moment, he can physically feel the proof of your love and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

“Sorry,” you manage to blurt under your breath, “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said—”

—the remaining words dissipate into thin air when he places his hands firmly on your shoulder and whirls you around. Face just inches away from his, you barely catch wind of his declaration before the unthinkable occurs…

“Too late. I don’t want to.”

...and his lips meet yours. 

It’s everything you have ever imagined. Years of admiring those plush lips, wondering what it would be like to feel the warmth of those wonders pressed against yours, are finally coming to fruition… except they don’t. His hands fall from your shoulders to the small of your back, but your hands don’t intertwine behind the back of his neck like you imagined. Instead, they hover in midair, hesitant to embrace him in your arms. Why? With your eyes and his fluttered closed and an audible deep sigh that signals a desire finally satisfied from the both of you, reality still manages to twist a dream-come-true. 

Does he actually love you or does he only pity you?

Finally, and ever so suddenly, your hands firmly push against his chest to plant an arm’s distance from you and him.

“Sorry…” you pant, avoiding those intense eyes. “We… we can’t do this.” 

“What?” Jin raises a brow, taking a step forward as you take one back. “Why not?”

Wordlessly, you point at his ring finger.

“Oh,” he chuckles nervously, hand scratching the back of his neck. You can only watch his every move, your stare gradually becoming a glare. Rosy hues coloring his cheeks, he speaks sheepishly, “I forgot we’re in public.”

His nonchalance irks you to your core. There isn’t any other way to put it. Blithe and dense have always been your favorite traits of his, but now that he’s here? Planting buds he could never sustain and sending mixed signals despite knowing of your feelings in an unfitting circumstance were never things you knew Jin for.  

“I-I don’t get it, Jin,” you shake your head. “I don’t think we should see each other any more. In any context. Not even after the wedding.” 

With his hands buried into his pockets and shoulders high enough to hide his reddened ears, he glances up at you, alert. “What? Why? What don’t you get?”

“It’s ‘cause... I just don’t get… this. I don’t get us,” you articulate, struggling to find the right words. “Why are you so… nonchalant about this? Why are you kissing me? Is it out of pity? Is it because I said I liked you—”

“—Y/N,” he says lowly like the drop of his previously cheerful mien, “you know I would never do something like that.” 

“Then why?! Why are you doing this to me? Do you love her or not?” you pause for a second to stifle the crack in your voice but, alas, all is in vain. “...and do you even… love me?”

He frowns, the tension in his body evident by the knitting of his brows as he struggles, “I… Y/N...”

“So you can’t admit that you love her and you can’t even lie to say you love me. So why the hell are you throwing away an entire marriage just to kiss me?” your scoff comes out more so like a plea. “You’re confusing me, Jin—”

“—that’s,” he abruptly pauses to stop himself from exploding, taking a deep breath before continuing, “that’s exactly why I can’t say it, Y/N! I don’t want to confuse you. I don’t want to disappoint my father. I-I don’t want to complicate matters more!”

“Then why the hell did you kiss me?!”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know! It was a spur of the moment! I couldn’t stop myself from chasing after you and when I hugged you—I-I just wanted to, alright? I’m sorry.”

He’s... sorry. 

Sorry for kissing you, sorry for acting as if your feelings had been reciprocated, sorry for breaking all the promises he made and pretending like he was going to patch things up again tonight. Speaking your mind and hearing his words are all that you need to finally understand what you need to do. Your heart drops but you hold your head high because your final verdict is the right thing to do. Maybe this time you’ll finally be able to cease these useless feelings. What's the point in pursuing a hopeless love? 

The only one you would be hurting is yourself. 

This epiphany, in itself, is enough to drape an ephemeral clarity over your frenzic self; and just like a bandaid over a scar, you’re able to function, if only just temporarily.

“Hey, Jin?” you call out softly to the boy kicking at nothing on the bare sidewalk. It’s hard not to melt under the delicate glance he throws over his shoulder. “I’m not… mad. Well, I kind of am. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry for everything that I said about your upbringing. I know how close you are to your family. I’m sure you’ve been under a lot of pressure…”

“No, Y/N,” he shakes his head, turning his body to face you with a low hanging head, “it’s my fault. Even considering all that, I still shouldn’t have done that or any of this. I… I’m sorry for confusing you.”

Forcing a composed smile, you persevere, “do you have your fiance’s number?”

Head lifting with a frown, he answers, “yeah, what kind of a fiance would I be if I didn’t? Why though?”

“Right,” you say to yourself under your breath, hearing his ‘fiance’ echo relentlessly in your head. “I just need it, okay? To… to sort out everything...”

And just when you wonder how insensitive could this boy get...

“What?” he chuckles. “Are you going to fight for me?”

...it gets worse.

Rolling your eyes, you give him a hard, well-deserved slap against the chest before snickering at his loud wince and declaring your one last confession of the night. 

“No, I could fight for us, but I won’t singlehandedly fight for you,” you then declare with a bitter smile, “I will, however, tell her how jealous I am.”

And that's your most irrefutable confession, one that has Jin stupefied for the future midnights to come.

❀ ❀ ❀

Morning arrives much sooner than you had anticipated. White puffs mark the air whilst you wrap yet another layer of scarf around your neck. It seems as though the breeze from a night ago had intentionally danced around town, lingering and spectating on the resolution of your five year long love conundrum. Ironically enough, the two of you reunite at the very spot where everything had first started… except this time, everything will finally end.

The pain he had marked in you inflicted by the words he could not bring himself to say still stains your every waking second.

“You have to do this. You can do this,” you incessantly chant to yourself, pacing back and forth beside the most prominent cherry blossom tree in town. “You have to do this. You can do this—”

“—Y/N, is that you?”

What you presume to be Youngji’s voice perks your ears. Looking up, you spot her holding a phone in her hands as she flickers between you and her screen. A quizzical quirk of the brow plasters across your face as you wave at her and she jogs over to you as quickly as she could in that pink, wool poncho and those tan, fluffy boots. “Hey, Youngji, right?” 

“Yeah,” she says in between each pant of breath, “that’s me.” 

Her hands immediately find refuge on her knees whilst she bends over to catch her breath. Typically, you’re the very self-aware type, but there isn’t anything you could do to stop yourself from staring. The girl strikes you as… flamboyant. With her dark red pigtails, bright smile, and dainty attire, she’s everything you’ve always imagined a female version of Jin would be like. It’s hard not to wonder… maybe an arranged marriage really can be a match made in heaven, but you force yourself out of that rabbit hole before having another breakdown in front of an innocent stranger. 

The tang of jealousy, however, refuses to budge. 

“Sorry, for,” she pants, holding her hand up to show you her phone screen, “calling out to you like that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you squint at the sight of the screen displaying a candid photo of you, taken on this very street on that very day, as you stuffed one of his breads in your mouth. Drawn on your face is a mustache and a unibrow. “Did Jin do—”

“—Jin gave me a terrible reference photo.” 

Scoffing, you cross your arms, “damn it, Jin.”

Youngji crackles into a firework of uncontrollable laughter, rendering you stupefied. After a literal minute passes by, she finally manages to speak in between the bursts of giggles that follow, “you two—” giggle “—really are—” giggle “—close, huh?” And as a grand finale, she slaps her stomach with a loud sigh of relief that her laughs have come to an end. When she notices you staring at her bewilderedly, a light bulb flashes through her as she gasps and feigns a whimper, “o-oh! Ow! M-my baby!”

“You know you don’t have to pretend, right?” you can only let out a laugh of disbelief because you still can’t take in the mirror image your best friend. “Jin already told me about the fake pregnancy.” 

“Oh, in that case,” she smiles widely before giving her stomach one more big, satisfying slap, “see, you guys really are so close!” 

“I… I guess. I’m not sure if taking me out for one day after five years of radio silence really counts as close, though,” you then quickly add in with raised hands, “he only did so out of obligation, though! I swear it was nothing more!”

“Hmmm?” she hums, leaning in a curious ear with a cheshire-like smile. “Is it because of those promises he made?”

“...yeah, wait, he told you about those?” 

Of course he did, idiot, they’re engaged. 

“Well, something like that,” she shrugs, “so how much did he tell you?”

“About?” 

“About the wedding, silly!” 

“Uh, nothing much really. The pregnancy was a false rumor, the marriage was arranged by his father…”

“Father?” she inquires, watching you closely with those big, round eyeballs of hers. 

“Yes?” you hesitantly nod. “Father?” 

“Ah,” she nods, as if she finally catches drift of something, “I see.” 

“Oh yeah,” you add, “I also found out it’s on my birthday.”

“What?!” her eyes grow wider, if they even possibly can. “Jin never told me that! What the heck, man? A wedding? On his best friend’s birthday?!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know right?” you nod passively before coming to an abrupt stop. “Wait, what? Why does it matter to you?”

“Of course it matters to me! You’re Jin’s best friend, aren’t you? You have no idea how much he talks about you back home. I know you so well that sometimes I feel like you might be my best friend,” she chimes before reaching out to cup your hands in hers. “Let’s celebrate properly with Jin after the wedding, okay?” 

“Um, sure…”

But you don’t exactly plan on unnecessarily sticking around his life for any longer than the wedding… except, seeing how close she must be with Jin in addition to her loose-lip impression, you decide not to tell her that. 

“So,” she drops her hands to the side, “what did you need to tell me?” 

Why did you call her to meet you here again? After witnessing her flamboyant entrance, it’s hard for you to keep yourself from derailing. 

“Oh, um,” you scratch the back of your head awkwardly, “I just wanted to meet my best friend’s fiance, that’s all.”

“Ahhh, I see.”

The woman pauses, nodding at you intently almost as if waiting for the real intentions to be revealed. Damn it, either you’re a literal open book or she reincarnated from the same soul as Jin’s. 

“So…” you purse your lips. “Are you okay with it? The arranged marriage, I mean?” 

“Well,” she shrugs, finally dropping the smile from her lips. “At first I hated the thought of it. I felt like I didn’t really have a choice, but… when I met Jin—” a smile is hinted in the corner of her lips and in the sparkle of her eyes “—I thought ‘I’m pretty lucky girl, aren’t I?’ I think the world must have finally taken pity on me.”

A soft, stifled laugh slips from you as your eyes fall to the ground and a bittersweet smile accompanies your lips, “yeah, you’re pretty lucky.” 

“Don’t get me wrong though,” your eyes immediately shoot up to find her raising defensive hands, “it wasn’t some sort of a love at first sight. He’s handsome, sure, but—”

“—a marriage is a lifelong commitment—”

“—exactly,” she sighs, “I didn’t really know him, but when I was forced to spend time with him… I thought if I had to get married, then he would be the best option. He’s not a bad guy.” 

“No,” you smile in your reverie, shaking your head, “he's not a bad guy at all; and when you really get to know him, his stupid dorky self, I think it’s impossible not to fall for him.” 

“Yeah?” 

“He’s mean when he jokes around but he’s actually very kind, he’s sensitive when you poke him where it hurts but he hides it deceptively well, he’ll apologize for being wrong when the both of you clearly know you’re in the wrong, he’ll cook and wear the hottest pink clothes he can find because ‘to hell with societal norms,’ he’ll tell you the dumbest dad jokes but I promise you’ll get used to them eventually, ” you let out a reminiscent laugh that comes out more like a sigh, “and, sometimes, very rarely, he’ll hurt you unintentionally, of course, but he’ll always go out of his way to make it up because that’s just… that’s Jin. That’s my best friend.” 

A breeze passes by to perfectly mark the end of your cadence. Branches rustle above you and freshly budded cherry blossom petals flutter their way toward the grass underneath the two of you only to be risen once again by a following zephyr. Having been there throughout his and your lives, it’s almost as if the long-standing tree is agreeing to attest to your words. 

“Wow,” Youngji finally says after witnessing your truthful albeit embarrassing spoken love letter, “I… I wouldn’t doubt any of it… but why are you telling me? Shouldn’t you be telling Jin?” 

“I’m telling you, because,” you emphasize, “because I'm jealous of your position but I can't do anything about it so I want you to take good care of Jin. I just… I need to know he’ll be in good hands. I want him to be loved like the way that he loves. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

Youngji just nods. It’s the most somber response you’ve ever seen from her. Almost like the joining of hands in marriage has finally become reality. 

“Do you…” you struggle to squeeze out of the knot in your throat, “do you love him…?” 

“Y/N—” she begins but suddenly lets go of whatever she must have had planned “—yes, yes I do.” 

“And… you’ll take care of him?” 

Youngji bobs her head lightly, “yes, I will.”

“Promise?” 

“...promise.”

“Okay, then I’m entrusting him to you, and,” you smile, leaning forward to shake her hands before heaving one last sigh, “and this time, please keep the promise.” 

❀ ❀ ❀

A curse sinks into the thickness of the sapphire dusk that quickly descends upon the hushed city. Keys tinkle to decorate the silence of tonight’s resting wind, a silence that would have been accompanied by an equally passive woman and an oblivious man whose hands persist to fumble to his guest’s dismay. 

Standing before a small willow, vintage-looking store tucked away in the corner of downtown, an inaudible breath ascends a cloud of white that momentarily shrouds the grand interior peeking from spotless windows that line the exterior. Golden warm studio lights illuminate the gorgeously exquisite ivory gowns from the trailing trains up to its waterfalls of dainty veils. Velvet suits and satin neckties accompany each headless mannequin, welcoming each passerby to imagine themselves in their wildest fairytales… your hand in his and his in yours as a fleeting moment becomes a sealed promise of a lifelong loyalty. 

Breath completely taken away, you, yourself, almost fall prey to your own far-fetched dreams. 

“I thought I said we shouldn’t meet up anymore,” your forced mutters drag you from your short-lived reveries, “why did you bring me here?”

“You said we shouldn’t meet up anymore, yet here you are,” Jin chirps before cheering to himself under his breath once the key finally clicks into place, “yes! Old man must have purposely given me these rusty old keys.”

Crossing your arms, you retort, “I came because you said your close friend from home would be here, too.”

Turning around to face you with his back to the door and a hand on the golden knob, he raises a quizzical brow, “and… are you not my close friend from home?” 

“I thought you meant the other—”

“—this is my home, Y/N,” he says firmly, looking straight at you, “and I want my best friend to see me in my wedding suit before anyone else.” 

“But why me…?”

“Because I only care about your opinion.”

He answered without hesitation, but in your head you figure he must have forgotten about Youngji, the true spotlight of the show.

Gritting your teeth, a staredown begins between the two of you; but the longer you face those unequivocal looks of determination in his eyes, the hotter your cheeks become in the middle of a contrastingly chilly night.  

“Alright, fine.” 

“Thanks,” he gives you a small, lopsided smile before pushing the door open with his back and ushering you in with a slight bow, “ladies first.”

Your eyes roll but not for very long when you step foot into the store and your mouth falls agape. The ceiling is much higher than you had perceived from outside, the sides are lined with grand, wooden staircases that lead to a second floor where hundreds upon hundreds of white dresses and black suits find purchase along the hangers, and the click of your heels against the marble tiles of the entrance floor echo into the extravagant expanse. 

The wooden insulation of the store proves infallible when the door closes behind Jin and the shrewd air leaves you to a much more bearable surrounding. Standing affixed to the entrance, you watch as Jin strides toward the carpeted floor where a taupe curtain hanging from the ceiling drapes over a raised platform sits across its partner platform in the opposite of the room. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so enraptured by something aside from me,” Jin chuckles as he begins stripping the suit off of a black, velvety mannequin before pointing at the mannequin standing beside the opposite platform, “oh, why don’t you try on some dresses while I’m at it?” 

“What?” you scoff, finally taking a step onto the carpet. “First off, I never stared at you like that before. Second, why the hell would I do that? It’s your wedding, not mine.” 

“I asked the store owner for permission and picked a dress for you to try on,” he continues, finally stopping in the midst of unbuttoning his white, collared shirt when he looks up to find the fear in your eyes. “Hey, haven’t you always wanted to try one of these?”

“Yeah,” you laugh in disbelief because he actually listened to your past rambles, “but never under these circumstances.”

“C’mon, you never know if you’ll ever have a chance like this again,” he gestures once more when he notices the start of your contemplation, “c’mon, go on!”

You really don’t want to. It’s that nagging feeling of something going completely wrong tonight if you were to succumb and let yourself go. After all, your worst fear is yourself. It doesn’t feel right and you begin to wonder if it’s alright for you to hold onto this moment you’ve always dreamed about: dolling up and swearing your vows side by side with Jin. 

If you were to live out your fairytale, just for tonight, would you finally be able to sleep dreamlessly at night? 

“...fine,” you groan and storm across the room, tossing your purse into the ruby sofas and stepping onto the platform. Turning around to face a gleeful Jin, you’re about to scowl at him until your eyes flicker between the cheeky grin on that youthful face and those sculpted abdomen of his elevated by the lighting above. Cheeks flushing red, you gulp at the unseen sight before clutching the curtain in your hands and swinging it closed with a mumble, “and at least have some decency and use the curtains, God damn it…”

The freezing touch of your hands doesn't hold a candle to the heat of your face. Trying to calm your racing heart, you curse to yourself at the way he merely cackles at you and, even worse, the way your heart intensifies in response. 

“Yes, ma’am!” 

“...shut up,” you say more to yourself and your deafening heart.

The gown standing before you, however, is no help to your case either, for when you glance over the dress, the long train that could awe an entire room, the complimenting silhouette that doesn’t scream too over-the-top but enough to fulfill the little girl within you, and the classic lace sleeves that you’ve gushed over whilst skimming through magazines, you realize Jin had always been attentive even when he was stuffing his face with bread or even when he was being petty over an argument and you tried to rectify with incessant small talk. 

It’s at this moment that you acknowledge the rabbit hole you had just willingly fallen into and the impossibility of its towering escape.

“So,” Jin calls out to you as the sound of rustling clothes fill the silent air, “what do you want for your birthday tomorrow?”

“My birthday? Oh, right,” you slam palm to your forehead, having dwelled over the marriage and consequently forgetting your own birthday. “Uh, nothing really. I haven’t really thought about it this year.” 

“Really? You? Y/N? Not planning her own birthday?” he gasps. “Who are you and what did you do to Y/N?”

“Oh, shut up. With age comes other problems to deal with...”

...problems like you.

“C’mon,” he chuckles. “You have to have something. You can’t tell me you’ve gotten every single thing checked off of that old ‘birthday gift ideas’ list you gave me.”

“I mean… I wouldn’t say I’m very far from it and it’s not like you were actually going to give me everything I asked for. Say, what did I even have on that list?” your eyes wander to the towering curtains that envelop you as your hands reach behind to the buttons on your back. “A bowl of your tofu soup, some pocket money, a matching sweater, a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a… ring.” The word slips from your lips and it floats in the stagnant air before you can even do anything about it. His silence rings in your ears, so you quickly add in, “but I don’t want materialistic stuff like that anymore.” 

“...oh, really?” 

“Nope,” you heave a heavy sigh and pat the poofy material of the skirt down, “I think I’ve come to realize that… I just want to be loved. I don’t need a dress or a necklace or a ring…  you wouldn’t understand, but I don’t just want to hear those words. I want to feel them. I want to be loved.” 

But only by him.

A lingering silence drifts long enough for you to start panicking until, finally, he answers, “no, I understand.” 

“...well,” you quickly chirp as you fumble with the lacey material of your dress, “enough about me, what do you want for your big day, hm?”

“Why would I need a present from you?” he remarks. You can hear him finishing his final touches and you can barely stop your heart from leaping out of your chest. “You’ve given me enough already.”

“You mean I’ve given you enough earfuls and tears,” you retort, clutching onto the curtains as you shut your eyes to muster every courage within you. “Isn’t there anything I can give you? Anything you want?”

Counting down to yourself, the curtains and drawn open in one, swift swing; and when your eyelids flutter open, you find him standing on the platform across from you, dressed in a classic black and white suit with the curtains clutched in his hands like a mirror image of you. He glances over you from head to toe, as you do to him, until the both of you settle in each other’s gazes for what seems like an eternity, willingly lost and ever-so-enraptured.

You almost forget this isn’t actually your wedding.

“This,” he answers with a soft smile, “this is enough.”  

“...stop it.”

JIn frowns, “stop what?”

“Stop… looking at me like that,” you articulate, hands covering your bashful grin. “It’s making me feel self-conscious.” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault I have such a good eye at picking clothes for you!” he says whilst pointing an accusatory finger. “I guess 22 year old Jin had a pretty good sense of fashion after all.” 

“You picked this five years ago…?” 

The man shrugs but his high chin says otherwise regarding his humility, “I told you Kim Seokjin is a prepared man of his word.” Eyes peering across to wink at you, he continues a bit more seriously, “I might not be able to fulfill all of our promises, but this is the closest I can to it.” 

“Jin… you’re…” you laugh in disbelief, bashfully avoiding his intent gaze, “...you’re so incredibly stupid that I can feel it from all the way here.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he grins mischievously and takes a step toward you and off the platform. “How about now?”

“Stop it, don’t spread your stupidity to me.”

He spreads his arms out wide whilst taking another few steps forward, “why not? Aren’t we supposed to be together through thick and thin?”

“No, not really,” you adamantly shake your head amidst a hysterical fit of giggles, “don’t come any closer.” 

“Oh, no,” he feigns worry. Another footstep. “I can’t stop myself.” He approaches even closer. “The stupidity is spreading!” 

With him just a footstep away, you cower behind the shield of your hands, “stop it, stop looking at me like that—”

—and just as you squeal, his arms wrap around you to pull you into a tight embrace.

Like two lost puzzle pieces, his hands fit perfectly in the small of your back and his chin rests comfortably in the crook of your neck. His hair grazes against your burning cheeks. His scent envelops you into a rosy haze. He could probably feel the beat of your chest against his, but you wouldn’t know when you’re preoccupied by the thuds of his own. You had never been aware of the lonesome emptiness you’ve felt all these years until now, under the warmth of his touch that completes your other half. 

You almost forget to breathe until he takes a deep breath and lets out a slow, dreary sigh. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Under any other circumstances, you would have smacked him for lying. Perhaps it’s the stir of the starry skies or the impending occasion or even the look he made on his way to you with a gaze that oozed with absolute adoration, but something tells you he’s being his genuine self tonight… and that’s what you fear the most. 

“You shouldn’t be saying that, Jin,” you say, stroking his head buried in your shoulder, “and you shouldn’t be looking at any women but Youngji with those eyes.” 

Whether he’s quietly reflecting or stubbornly disagreeing, Jin remains silent. His breath entangles with yours, syncing with the wavelengths that you two have been running for an ongoing seven years and, perhaps, beyond. 

He frustrates you to your wits’ end. There’s nothing he hasn’t made you question. At times, when you’re tossing and turning in bed and hoping for a way out of that cavern of a mind, you wish time could skip to a year in which the voices no longer haunt you at night; and yet, when you’re here buried in his arms, you would do anything to freeze and relish this fragment in time. 

It isn’t right. You two aren’t right and you know it isn’t right… but how do you deny yourself of the cure to those deep scars when he, himself, wishes to be downed? 

It takes everything in you to finally drop your hands from his locks to his shoulder. Just as you’re about to deny the tempting elixir, Jin lifts his head along with his gaze that now meets yours, “Y/N, I have something I need to tell you.”

“...y-yeah?” 

The windows to his soul twinkle underneath the dim chandeliers above. Those starry dark brown eyes simply take your breath away.

“My dad,” his voice quivers like the water that wells in his eyes; and when you know he’s about to bawl, you pat his head ever-so-endearingly. Gulping, he finds the courage to continue, “he’s sick.” 

“Oh... oh, Jin,” you murmur, quickly wiping the few tears that drop onto his flush cheeks before bringing him into another tight embrace. “I’m sorry.” 

“I only moved—” and that’s what cracks his buoyant front into a full on bawl  “—I only moved to take care of him!”

“I understand.” 

He shakes his head, “I didn’t want to abandon you!” 

“No, Jin, I know,” your voice is buried underneath his whimpers, “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“I didn’t know things would turn out like this!” he cries, holding you even closer. “I didn’t know!” 

“It’s okay, Jin. Really, it’s okay. It’ll be okay.” 

“No, it won’t be okay,” his voice hitches in the midst of his hiccups, “my father is dying and now I’m walking down the aisle with a woman I don’t even love!” 

Your strokes come to a temporary stop because how could fate be so twisted? Who is it to decide whose time shall begin and whose time is up? You have to hold your breath along with the waterworks that sour your eyes. You can’t cry now. He needs your stability.

He needs you. 

“Did you…” you take a shaky breath, leaning back to watch him cover the messy state of his face, “did you tell your dad?”

“I-I couldn’t,” he stutters, voice muffled by his voice, “you know how long he’s been waiting for this.”

I know,” you ponder for a second before hesitating to continue, “...why didn’t you consider me?” 

“I—” his hiccup interrupts him as he roughly smears his tear-stained cheeks with his palms “—I thought you hated me. I didn’t think you would agree. I thought our promises were just a joke. But when you confessed that night, when you said you would fight for us—” his voice cracks again as he laughs at himself, eyes to the ground “—I thought damn, fuck, how did I mess up so hard? I should have fought for us. I’m so stupid—”

“—no you’re not—”

“—so fucking stupid!” 

His self-reprimanding curse echoes in the room. Each of his demeaning scorns inciting a fiery justice in you. 

“No,” you state, “you’re not stupid.” 

Without the dignity to face you, his hands clenched into fist and he continues with bangs shrouding his sorrowful eyes, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I hurt you—”

“—no, Jin, you did not—”

“—I messed us up—”

“—no, Jin, look at me, hey, look at me,” you place a finger under his chin to lift his spirits until those bloodshot eyes of his find refuge in yours. Smiling, you speak, “see? I’m okay. So what are you apologizing for?”  

“Aren’t you… mad?” 

“Mad? No, silly,” you laugh, wiping another tear. “Sad? Maybe.”

“See—”

“—sad because I wasn’t there by your side when you needed me… and maybe a bit sad that I won’t be the one holding you like this tomorrow,” you apologize with a soft smile over the latter jab that incites a wince from the boy. “Why didn’t you tell me about your father?” 

“I didn’t think it was that serious,” he hiccups, “and when I found out, I tried to call you but it didn’t go through.”

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, “I’m sorry.” 

“No,” he takes a deep breath to calm his high, “it’s not your fault.”

“And it’s not yours either,” you affirm, breaking out into a laugh when you take another look at his reddened eyes and dampened cheeks. “Look at you! Why are you looking like a mess on our wedding day, huh?! At least let us be ignorantly happy for one day!” 

“What…?” he frowns whilst hastily smearing every last evidence of his breakdown on his face. The result is an equally red, irritated skin across his cheeks. “What’re you talking about? Kim Seokjin never looks like a mess… hey, what’re you laughing at?!” 

“Look at your tie, idiot! What kind of a rich son are you if you can’t even tie it correctly? Come over here,” you say just as you grab the end of his necktie to pull him up onto the platform. With his necktie now at your eye-level, you begin to unravel whatever knot he had attempted. All the while, you can feel his gaze as he watches you do your thing, completely enamored. This time, it’s your turn to turn red. To distract yourself from the rising self-consciousness, you clear your throat, “call me whenever you’re going through a hard time, okay? I’ll give you my new number…”

The piece of fabric flails around into equally atrocious knots that Jin had previously created until you groan in frustration and disassemble everything. You had practiced this so many times while he was gone, foolishly believing it would come in handy the day he returned, but why does nothing ever work out the way you want it to? 

“I swear it worked last time I tried…”

Your best friend just watches silently, chuckling as you wrap the fabric around your own neck this time; and when he speaks, much steadier like the Jin you have always known, he looks you directly in the eye. “Youngji told me about your guys’ conversation.”

“Huh?” you pause as soon as your embarrassing declaration of love begins reciting itself in your head, but not even the resumed work of your hands could distract you from the ever-growing shade of red. “O-oh, that… what about it?” 

“I heard what you said about me.” 

“Yeah?” you hum nonchalantly, even though the trembling of your hands and the avoidance of your eyes from his give you away. “Well, did she tell you about all the complaints I made, too? About you being a stupid dork?”

“She did,” he utters before placing a finger below your chin to avert your attention to those dazzling works you desperately avoided, “but would you still be willing to marry this stupid dork?”  

“This isn’t even a real wedding,” you feign a frown under the spotlight of his intent gaze, “why are you asking me a question like that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t have the funds to hire a real priest.” 

“You don’t need to for a fake wedding.”

“I thought you said we should be ‘ignorantly happy for one day?’” 

The bantering just never stops, does it?

“Okay, well… to answer your question,” you mutter, eyes averting to the side, “under normal circumstances…”

“Under normal circumstances…” he repeats.

“Where you aren’t engaged…”

“Where I’m not engaged…”

“And your father approved of me…”

“And my father approved of you…”

“Then yes,” you say without hesitation, eyes returning to find a newfound comfort in his relieved gaze, “yes, I would marry you.” 

“And that’s why I love you,” Jin smiles, chuckling softly. “I’ll always want to marry you.”  

And just as a nearby clock tower strikes its church bells to signal the stroke of midnight, Jin grabs the end of your necktie and pulls you in to press his lips onto yours. The body of his warmth and the acceptance of an inevitable end to your paths serve as the last page of a book never to be read again; and yet, he holds himself close, refusing to let you go. 

But when the end nears and the magic of the bells resume time once again, the two of you pull away to catch your breaths. Forehead against yours, Jin gives you one last, fleeting kiss. 

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Deja vu would be the perfect term to describe this feeling.  You can almost see yourself in the room of hundreds, stealing glances at the man from afar. It only takes one blink for you to relive the rollercoaster of jubilance and confessions and tears. In the split second of darkness, the past week flickers before you like a film reel: breaking down in the middle of the hallway right in front of Jin, staring bewilderedly at the large bouquet in the hand of a man at the office, confessing with tears that stain your face and sobs that conquer your voice, meeting the woman who had stolen your spot beside Jin, and holding him in your arms as he cries his heart out at the stroke of midnight. 

And just as quickly as the whirlwind of memories had taken you on a trek of time, your eyes flutter open to find yourself in another suffocating room of hundreds once again. 

Youngji [8:39 P.M.] Hey Y/N do you think you can visit me real quick? 

The glaring text on your phone screen glows in an otherwise dimly lit reception room. Thumb hovering over the screen, your mind goes blank. People pass by you, commotions and laughter fill every corner of the room, and you stand there frozen and affixed to the floor beside the table of food with a glass of red wine in your hands. 

“Hey, Y/N,” someone whispers into your ear and you immediately turn your phone off only to find Alex on her tiptoes, “what’s the matter?”

“Oh, um, nothing,” you respond under your breath, “it’s just that someone wants to talk to me.” 

“Well, you better hurry then,” she ushers you with a gripping hand on your left arm, “the ceremony is about to start anytime now.” 

“O-oh, okay,” you nod, allowing your footsteps to follow the momentum of her push. 

This isn’t exactly what you had planned, for the original plan involved your complete avoidance of the groom and bride, but it’s unsurprising that things never quite go your way. Nothing could quite topple you like last night’s revelation anyways. Taking a deep breath, you weave through the audience, wandering about the venue until you finally find yourself in front of a door with a “BRIDE WAITING ROOM” printed in gigantic black letters taped to it. 

Hesitantly, you knock, “hello? This is Y/N…? Youngji called for me—”

“—Y/N!” The wooden door swings wide open with a highly distressed Youngji hiding behind it. Before you can reply or even confirm the identity of the woman, her hands clutch yours and pull you into the room with a force unimaginable for a human of her size.  Practically lurching forward, a heap of air is knocked from your lungs just as the door slams closed. Coughs force their way through your throat, but Youngji wastes no time to rush to your side. “Y/N, this is an emergency! I need help!” 

“W—” you wheeze, peering up at her as you’re doubled over “—what in the world are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know,” her hands jitter as she paces back and forth, “I don’t know why I feel so… so nervous!”

“Hold on,” you frown, finally straightening your back, “that’s perfectly normal. It’s your wedding—”

“—please don’t say that word again,” she begins biting her freshly white-coated nails.

“What word? Normal? Wedding? Your—”

“—I can’t believe it’s my wedding…” she says repeatedly, hands flying to her head and disheveling her previously perfectly conditioned curls. She suddenly turns to face you, eyes wider than ever with a look that screams of an epiphany. “I-I don’t think I can go there. Y/N, I don’t think I can go out there!”

“What?!” you almost yell, flabbergasted. Recoiling from your outburst, you start much more softly this time. “Are you sure? I’m sure it’s just your nerves getting to you. You’ve been okay with it for at least a year, right?”

“Why?” her eyes widen to unprecedented diameters as she grabs your arm for support. “Is it because it’s too late? Do you think I should back out, Y/N?”

“What? No, no, no, calm down, follow me,” you shake your head, grasping her hand and guiding her to the chair in the center of the room where an entire photo shoot has been set up. Lowering yourself to a squat, you give her a squeeze as firm as the smile on your lips.  “Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s just the jitters. Everyone gets them. I’m sure Jin is freaking out in his room, too.”

“...okay,” she nods, pouting as her eyes lower to your hands that hold hers. Peering up at her from below, you can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks dolled up on this special occasion. From the extravagant poof of her princess gown to the gorgeous glow of the bride herself, you find yourself lost in a trance that burns with heart-panging jealousy. You almost miss her when she murmurs, “how are you so calm, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you raise a brow and laugh. “Why would I be nervous? I’m not the one getting married here.”  

“But… your best friend is getting married,” she shifts to get a clearer look of you but finds you with your eyes to the floor, “are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Of… of course. I’m happy for him,” you say through barely parted lips and stand to your feet before making your way to the door. “It’s not exactly traditional, but do you want me to get Jin? Maybe he can calm you down—”

“—do you know why Jin agreed to this arrangement?” 

Freezing in your tracks, you throw a glance over your shoulder to meet her distraught gaze. 

“Why are you asking me that now?”

“Because,” she blurts, clearly without thinking as words fail to follow through, “because I want your blessing! I want you to be okay with it!” 

“Blessing...?” 

“Yes,” she nods. “I can live with marrying a man I don’t love because I know I’ll come around, but I don’t think I can live knowing I’ve broken your relationship with Jin.”

Your weight shifts from your left to your right but the force of burden weighs immeasurably heavier on your very being. There’s nothing that would have prepared you for her request. Preparation, however, proves unnecessary, for your mind runs on its own and the words come to you as if rehearsal is all it's ever done. 

“I don’t think I’m in the position to grant you permission. That’s your decision and Jin’s,” you say, “and if my blessing is what you’re asking for, then I can give you it as many times as it takes to convince you. But if you’re asking for me to be okay with it, then I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you that.” 

Those are your last parting words as you slump on the wall behind you and a heavy sigh is shared between the two women on opposite sides of the door. Head low like a woman unjustly ashamed for speaking her truth, you take a deep breath with those heavy shoulders that carry the weight of a woman who had essentially cursed the joining of two hands. Nevertheless, somehow, you persist to make your way through the halls just as the ceremony begins; but as the audience settles and the light dims, something tells you the guilt that intoxicates your blood would have a longer-lasting aftermath than you had first expected. 

“Hey,” Alex leans into you, whispering, “is it just me or does Jin seem really jittery?”

“...no,” you answer, making sure to keep yourself hushed amidst a room of seated spectators. From the second bench to the front, fortunately on the opposite side of where Jin’s parents sit in the front row, you get a clear view of Jin and Youngji in between the black silhouettes of a couple heads; but anyone in the room can tell the bright studio lights and elevated platform don’t help his constantly shuffling case. “I don’t think it’s just you.”

“I see… so both the groom and bride are getting cold feet, huh?” 

“Well,” you utter, quipping, “in Jin’s case, he’d probably just say he forgot to sleep with socks on.” 

Alex turns to you with sheer confusion across her furrowed brows, “huh?” 

But before Alex could inquire further, the priest clears his throat and begins the opening ceremony. The officiality of it all, a long-dreaded image of Jin standing by another woman’s side manifesting into reality, has you subconsciously sent into a frenzy. 

“Dear Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Kim Seokjin and Heo Youngji in matrimony commended to be honorable among all…”

The clearing of his throat strikes once and hard against your chest. Each word that reverberates in the room echoes the vibrating pain in the blood pumped from a gaping wound. Your chest heaves and heaves and your lungs struggle to maintain composure, and while your breakdown may have gone unseen by the rest of the universe, you know for sure only two would catch sight of your state.

You and him. 

“...if there is any person who can show cause why they should not be joined together…”

The priest continues and the tension in the audience rises by the second of a stress-inducing prompt, but the moment Jin catches your eyes and the panic painted across it, his every attention remains on you. Guilt should’ve painted your expression now, having stolen the groom’s admiration from the rightful bride by his side, but all you can do is relish in a fleeting moment you deem the least this cruel world owed you. 

Maybe he feels the same way, because something catches in your throat like the hunch that has chills running down the nape of your neck. You don’t dare move an inch. You fear any movement would give you away, though you’re sure he already knew the second he met you halfway.

His eyes, those dazzling eyes that could single-handedly freeze any moment in time, they ask you for a permission only he could grant. 

“...let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” 

No one speaks but the thick air that engulfs every witness in the room is telling enough. Holding a shared, bated breath, everyone awaits and prays for the quick passing of this deafening silence. Your heart is pounding so hard you worry your passing out would be the one interruption to the ceremony, if not anything else. It takes everything in you to remain hidden, glued to the chair. You can hear every single movement in this room, the squeaking of a nearly retired bench, the rustling of clothes amidst a fidgeting audience, the anxious tapping of someone’s heels against the wooden floor, yet no one dares to speak now. 

The priest sighs a soft breath of relief. 

Everyone but you follows along. 

The priest clears his throat and pro—

“—I would like to speak.”

A loud gasp travels across the room. Every witness, including the priest himself, stares at the young man, wide-eyed. The knot in your throat inhibits you from following suit, but the hammer against your chest works harder than ever; because there he is, your best friend, standing boldly before the audience with a puffed chest and a tightened fist that brace for the repercussions. 

It all happens so suddenly, so swiftly. The strings that were left raveled now unraveled, the paths that were abandoned now explored, and the love of a lifetime whomst once bid you farewell now holds on with a determination that tells you they aren’t quite ready to let go, by happenstance or by conviction, everything falls into place. 

You had reprimanded yourself relentlessly for envisioning a moment like this and you truly believed this would be the worst case scenario, so why is it that only now, as your peering eyes are enamored by the sparkles in his, you find yourself smiling proudly and thinking to yourself… that’s your man. 

“Father, mother,” Jin turns to face his parents in the front row, declaring loudly and firmly, “I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love.” 

“What,” Alex shrills under her breath as she clutches your hands, “what is going on, Y/N?!”

Her voice doesn’t reach you and neither do her cold, nudging hands. The ongoing commotion around the room are like white noise in your background. You can’t even spare a second of your attention to the picturesque vision before you, the man who fights not for you but for the two of you.

Jin bows, head hanging low to his parents and the audience, “I’m sorry for saying this too late.” 

Everybody watches as his mother attempts to hold her husband in place. All is in vein, however, when one look of the baffled expression on her husband’s face conveys enough to everyone of the mayhem that is soon to ensue. He rips her grip apart from his arm and storms to his feet, pointing a finger at his apologetic son.

“W—” he struggles to find his breath “—what are you saying? You said you were okay with this just last week!”

“I did,” Jin affirms with his head still hanging low, “I thought I was okay with it until this week.” 

“How—”

“—honey…” the mother murmurs.

“No, changing your mind is one thing, but changing it at the very last second is another,” his father shakes his head, yanking his hand and stumbling on his feet before his distraught son could lend a helping hand. “Did I teach you to inconvenience others like this? Do you know how much trouble you’re causing Youngji and her family?”

“I do,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

His father grunts, “don’t you see, Seokjin? ‘Sorry’ can’t fix everything—”

“—actually, Mr. Kim, it’s not just Jin,” Youngji bounces to Jin’s side then pivots to bow to her parents who sit in the row before you, “I, too, don’t want to marry anyone until I really know them.” 

Physically, the spotlight remains affixed to the stage. Mentally, it feels as though everyone’s attention is gradually creeping its way toward you. It takes everything in you and the grip of Alex’s hands not to run from the prying eyes. 

“What?” their parents gasp. “Didn’t you say you were okay with it if it were Jin?”

“I did!” she insists, suddenly retracting. “I did, until…”

“I’m sorry,” Jin lifts his head to turn to Youngji’s parents before bowing once again, “this is all my fault.”

“No, no, you wouldn’t do this... tell me, son,” his father takes a step toward the stage, beckoning for an explanation, “tell me who did this to you?” 

Jin lifts his head, brow furrowing and lips thinning as he chooses to remain silent to his father’s question. Suddenly, it’s everyone’s duty to catch the perpetrator. The audience begins craning their neck every which way to skim over the possible candidates. Your heart sends threatening waves of pain that foreshadow the inevitable chaos you’re about to be dragged into. 

You can barely move from staring at the floor in between the groom and bride but you can spot the gradual direction of his mother’s eyes making its way toward you… and when they finally spot you, a lightbulb flashing across her eyes the second you make the lethal mistake of meeting her gaze for the first time in many years, it’s as though her son’s rebellion is the only thing that makes sense in this universe. 

Only naturally, his father catches onto his partner’s maternal instincts along with the rest of the crowd as their diverged attention converges, one head turning after another, to stare you down—some with awe plastered across their jealous front, some with ghastly colors than drain their face of blood. 

“Is that… you, Y/N?” his father’s voice echoes in the room. “Seokjin, don’t tell me…”

“No, father!” Jin jumps in, holding up a defensive pair of hands as he attempts to quell the fiery in his father’s temper. Wide-eyed and panicked, he glances between you and his father. “It isn’t her fault. I swear. I”ll explain—”

“—don’t tell me you’re going through all this trouble for a childish crush from five years ago?” 

A loud shriek began the chaos the second Jin’s father exploded, lurching forward with a vexing fist. Everyone in the front rows jump to their feet to hold him back, whereas people in the back rows stand to their tiptoes to get a better view of the climactic show, which includes a once-to-be-groom insisting his father punishes him and a once-to-be-bride slapping her ex-partner in the head for his submission. 

People are hysterically laughing, crying, screaming, yelling, fighting, but you sit there, frozen and petrified, until a hand shakes your entire being to your feet. 

“Y/N, Y/N, God damn it Y/N, earth to Y/N!” Alex raises her hand, just about to give you one hard slap to the cheek when you suddenly flinch awake. She then hastily pushes you toward the door in the corner of the room whilst everyone is too distracted to notice your discreet escape. She looks you directly in the eye, “you need to run before things get too crazy. I’ll handle things here for now.” 

“But Alex, I’m at fault here—”

“—yes, I mean, maybe,” she corrects herself with the shake of her head, “but you being here doesn’t help matters. I’ll help Jin and Youngji.”

“But—”

“—now go,” she starts your momentum with an encouraging push, “go!”

Nodding, you begin your long trek of the night. You run and you run and you run. Your mind runs blank but your feet run a mind of its own. You sprint down the dimly lit streets, you pay no mind to the traffic lights of endlessly empty streets, and your hair twirls in the wind that impedes your speed down the hills. Your surroundings become a blur as your arms swing desperately, your chest heaves incessantly, your eyes sting with tears, and your lips spill anguished sounds of incoherency until somehow, under the sway of the town’s cold spring air and your flux of emotions, you find yourself in a familiar street of your greatest dreams. 

Depleted of gas, your feet stumble into a trot that has your knee nearly buckling, which then turns into a jog that then drifts into an untroubled walk in which your lungs try to catch up and your mind is scrambling at a hundred miles per hour but you, yourself, have gone elsewhere. 

The luminescence of the full moon is blinding but all the more soothing as you navigate your way through this street you’ve walked one too many times before. For some reason, perhaps out of habit or a hope for something waiting at the end of the tunnel, you begin to count each passing light post. Seven fluorescent lights, you count, seven lights resembling the rays of moonlight until you finally reach your old acquaintance of many years at the corner of the street. 

Leaning your head back to stare at the familiar white text on a green sign post, you smile at the homely sight. 

CHERRY BLOSSOM AVE

A comforting breeze blows by you, the branches above you rustle in the wind, and the cherry petals from your old pal flutter into the air to envelop you in a solace you had long sought but failed to obtain. It’s like the calm after a storm. Not quite disconnected from the string that loops around your fourth finger to those of another man’s—no, you couldn’t unravel it after all this heartache—but at least away from the prying eyes that could tear you apart and away from the people who whispered gossip of matters they had none in. 

Hours seem to pass in the clouds that retire to reveal patches of new twinkling ornaments. You would have believed it if someone were to tell you all control of time lies within the blink of your eyes. The silence was calming initially; but the longer you stand here and the more the numbness begins to fade, the more you become aware of your lonesome circumstances. 

The silence is deafening. It knows your greatest fears and your innermost thoughts. You can’t handle it. You can’t bear the thought of being left alone to that voice in your head. 

You have to go. 

Where? 

You don’t know. You just know you have to go somewhere. You can envision all the places you can run to but all the roads lead you to one destination. Yes, anywhere would be fine, anywhere that leads you to him. 

“This marks the second time you’ve ever been so enraptured by something other than me.” 

Whirling around, seconds seem to become milliseconds and gravity becomes a law unbeknownst to earth, for you can’t believe the sight your eyes lay upon. There he is, standing by the tree just a few meters away with a loosened necktie and disheveled hair, almost as if a pitiful albeit wondrous mirage crafted by your shoddy prayers to the moon above. 

“Hey dummy,” he simply utters, taking a step or two toward you before poking your forehead, “what? Why’re you staring at me like I’m a ghost?” 

“What?” you manage to say under your breath. “I’m not staring…”

“I was just joking, you know?” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t be jealous over a street post. Psh, I’m not that dumb—”

“—why…” you frown when he quirks a brow, “why are you here? How are you here?”

“Oh no, she’s gone crazy,” Jin laughs at the stupefied look you give him. “At least an hour or two has passed since you left. Somehow, I managed to sit my father down and explain myself.” 

“And… what did he say?” your hands begin fidgeting. “He must hate me, doesn’t he…”

“I wouldn’t say ‘hate,’ per se… he’s perfectly okay with you. In fact, he likes you, really. He’s just mad at how things happened. After he calmed down, though, he understood where I was coming from.” 

Cautiously, you peek at those eyes that peer down at yours, “and your mother…?”

“She said she saw it coming from a mile away. Apparently she saw us arguing at the engagement party and knew right away,” Jin purses his lips. “Psh, yeah, as if I’m that easy to read.” 

Allowing yourself the smallest of laughs, you still can’t seem to rid yourself of that panging guilt. “And… what about Youngji?” 

Jin stares intently at your expression before cracking a smile and chuckling, ruffling your hair, “don’t go crying on me now, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.” 

“But I just,” your voice cracks, “I just hate myself for ruining everything for everyone—”

“—hey,” he cups his fingers underneath your chin to lift your gaze to his, “you did not ruin anything for anyone. I did this. I chose to fight for us.” 

Hesitantly, you nod and he smiles in response. 

“Youngji’s still explaining to her family right now. She told me to find you and Alex told me you would probably here.” 

Frowning, you mutter to yourself, “how did she know…?” 

“Well,” Jin drops his hand from your chin to raise them in the air, “we did promise to swear our wedding vows here, didn’t we?” 

“So what?” you deadpan. “You’re gonna marry me now after all this mess?” 

“I know you really want to marry me as soon as possible, but I think I’m gonna have to take a break from weddings for now.” 

Rolling your eyes, you mumble, “ditto.”

“But hey, I may have already broken the third promise,” one corner of his lips curve into an apologetic smile before he shrugs, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t marry you in the future! Plus, I may or may not have promised my father I would marry you in the near future to make up for it, so...” 

Scoffing, you gawk, “and who said I would marry you?” 

“Who wouldn’t marry me?!” 

The two of you stare at each other in silence, but the mirrored grin that stretches across your lips are undeniable. Soon enough, a loud fit of giggles and cackles fill the air. It happens all too quickly. The banters come to you like second nature, the conversation flows like a river through time, and somehow you find yourself lying beside him on the blazer he had laid out on the grassy hill and star-gazing for hours on end. 

It’s almost like you’ve seen this all before, just five years aged. 

“So,” Jin speaks, “how’s your birthday been?” 

“Oh, shut the hell up.” 

“What?” he cackles, getting up to lean on his arm whilst hovering you. “You know it’s not too late to tell me what you want for your birthday!” 

“I already told you,” you narrow your eyes at him, “I wasn’t joking when I said what I said.” 

Jin smiles, “in that case…”

He leans in to diminish the distance between his lips and yours. A lulling zephyr blows gently on the cherry petals as you close your eyes and you can picture the way they gracefully descend upon the two lovers below. Having witnessed the unforeseeable promises from start to finish, it’s almost as though an old accomplice was applauding a long-awaited finale. 

And when he finally pulls away, eyelids fluttering open just as yours do, he speaks, “happy birthday.” 

“What was that for?” you giggle. 

Jin’s mouth falls agape, “I’m giving you what you wanted for your birthday!”

“Well,” you purse your lips, “where’s my ring to confirm it then?”

“After all this time, do you really need a ring at this point to confirm my love for you?” Jin rolls his eyes. “You know I’ll always want to be by your side, married or not.” 

A fit of laughs escape you as your hand reaches up to squeeze his cheeks, “I know, I know. I’m just joking.”

“Well, good, cause I’m bankrupt at the moment,” Jin sighs, plopping back onto the grass beside you. A momentary silence passes before he turns his head to look at you, “just to make sure, you said you wanted love, right?” 

Turning to meet those sparkles in his gaze, you answer, “yeah?”

“You said you wanted to feel love, right?” 

Your grin grows wider by the second, “yeah?” 

“Well,” he says, “do you feel it?” 

“I do,” you answer. “What about you? Do you feel it?”

The vows hold a truth much closer to his heart this time around, and he smiles as he swears...

“I do, too.” 

[tteokdoroki]

Congrats on 3k babe!!✨👏🏽🥳

(I love your work!! Chef’s kissing bby🥺🤧)

Can I request prompt #’s 9 and 3 where katsuki has the hanahaki and readers with Shinso? ( angst with happy ending and smut )

katsuki bakugou x reader. ( no pronouns are given but female anatomy described. ).

tteokdoroki teaparty event masterpost!!

♡ prompt #3 + #9  —  “if you leave then..”  + reader or the character of choice has hanahaki disease.

♡ genre: mdni 18+. fwb!au, hanahaki disease!au, smut, angst.

♡ word count: 1.2K

♡ warnings: major character death, mentions of cheating, unprotected sex, mentions of blood. 

♡ author’s notes: thank you for all your support and  for requestiing my lovely !! ALSO I COULDNT WRITE A HAPPY ENDING IM SO SORRY

“k-katsuki—!”

the blonde beneath you sinks his teeth into your neck, he knows that you’d hate him for it in the morning, but he can’t help the feral desire inside of him to mark you up and claim you as though you’re his. bakugou starts to wonder if your pleasure blossoms from pain, from the way he leaves a bruising grip against your hips as his cock caresses your soaked walls to the feeling of your very own nails scratching down his freckled back. do you like being in pain? do you like causing him pain more? deep down he knows that you can’t be to blame for his condition, the burning spread of a deadly rose’s root throughout his body… the petals hidden away in his top left drawer nor the thorns hat litter his blood stream. you couldn’t be to blame, it wasn’t your fault that he had caught feelings, that he had caught the love disease. hanahaki.

“suki, ‘m gonna cum...don’t stop, please cum with me,” you sign, hand pushing through hair to bring him down in order to meet your lips. another set of dreaded red roses, the colour of his eyes and his blood that coats them, branch out against his lungs as you look up at him with pure bliss— your face twists with a euphoria that only he can give you and can often be mistaken with that of love. bakugou wonders if you’ve ever loved him, or if you’ve only ever been in love with how he fucks you. your legs up high and over his broad shoulders, heavy balls slapping against the curve of your ass every time he sinks deep into your tight cunt.

it’s nice to toy with the idea that you’re in love with him, but it doesn’t stop the flowers that slowly kill him from the inside out. it doesn’t help that you belong to someone else. “y-yeah? you gonna cum like a little bitch on my cock...oh baby, only if you tell daddy please,” katsuki mocks through laboured breathing, flame igniting in his lower belly at the sight of your sweet tears. he can’t tell if he’s panting because of how hot you look and now close you both are to cumming or because of how close the flowers bring him to death. “you like bein’ talked down on, don’cha bitch? can’t tell by the way your sweet cunny clamps down on me. who do you belong to?”

you can barely speak, orgasm right on the horizon. “y-you, belong to you!” comes your unhinged squeal as your hands grope at any of bakugou’s flesh available to you.

it’s not enough for him, however, bakugou’s warm and calloused hand reaching up to tug at your lower lip— opening up your mouth for him to spit into. “say ,y fuckin’ name, bitch. say it when you cum for your man.” he snarls from deep within his chest, forcing his hips to thrust into you at a new angle. the squealching sound of your sexes sends shivers down his spine as his gaze falls to where your bodies join and you become one with each other. fuck, he was close.

“‘m yours katsuki! ohmyfuckinggod, i’m all yours!”

you earn a few swipes your sticky and puffy clit, the attention sending you on a cliff dive right over the edge. you clamp down hard on bakugou, squeezing him for all of his worth until his relentless pace stutters and his cock paints your insides with the shade of white. the blonde drops his head to your neck as your body twitches with the aftershocks of your own release, the nectar dripping from your cunt and slicking up the latter’s cock. he wishes that you could lay here little longer, wrapped up in the sweet post orgasm bliss, but there’s a familiar pang in his chest and churn to his stomach when katsuki witnesses you reach for your phone on the nightstand beside him.

the pain of rustling roses returns to bakugou’s lungs when your screen illuminates with messages from him and he pulls from your heat with a hiss, rolling to your side and fixing his gaze on the ceiling. “yn, we can’t keep doing this.” vermillion eyes shut away the world as he waits for your response, listening to the rustling of clothes as you get yourself together and ready to leave.

“doing what, katsuki?” there’s an air of innocence to your tone, as if you hadn’t uttered his very name with an unrelenting neediness for the last hour or so.

this time, bakugou sits up— mindful of the thorns and petals that line the cavity in his chest. as the sheets fall away, he uses a strong arm to wrap around your waist— pulling you into him as if you’ll stay. the sweater you now where, the one that belongs to shinsou and the one that caused this night of passion, itches at his skin, but katsuki ignores it. “i can’t keep fucking you like we mean something, only for you to fuck off back to the asshole who doesn’t treat you right.” he was tired of the sneaking around, the false happiness you had created with him under this very roof. bakugou wanted more than to be your fuck buddy and go to when your boyfriend wasn’t enough.

you shake your head and laugh bitterly, tilting your head to the side to press a kiss to katsuki’s unsuspecting lips. the petals in his lungs rumble. “i love him, you know. he may be crappy at times but i can’t leave him. can’t hurt him. that’s why we do the things we do, sneak around like we do. i promised to never break his heart.”

“but you’re breaking mine,” katsuki practically pleads against your lips, his own are wet from tears he hadn’t realised were falling. he doesn’t know if they’re because he’s in pain or because he can feel you slipping away. “i’m in love with you, yn.”

panic rises with bile and blossoms in katsuki’s chest as you pull away from him harshly, lacing up your boots and grabbing your bag from the floor. “no one ever told you to catch feelings, bakugou. we are, were, fuck buddies win a now strings attached agreemnent. i’m not responsible for that.” you gesture to the way that he crumbles as you walk towards the door.

“yn, if you leave then, we won’t ever talk again. it’ll be all over.” bakugou knows it’s wrong to give you an ultimatum, he can see that from the way your eyes glaze over with tears. but he’s dying, rosebuds choking him from the inside out and clawing their way up his throat. he needs you to live or he’d die without you.

you turn, shaky fingers encapsulating the doorknob as you hold back your own tears. “whatever it takes to get it through your head, that i. don’t. love. you.”

you leave, and bakugou succumbs to the thorns in his lungs.

that night, the world shatters. katsuki bakugou dies alone in a bed of roses he’d breathed for you, petals as red as his eyes that you’d once loved so much. when his death reaches you, shinsou squeezes your shoulders and reminds you of how lucky you both are to be loved by each other. but you can only nod solemnly and pray he doesn’t find the orange rose petals you’ve hidden under your shared bed.

[ponyam]

hello, could you please write a fluffy comfort fic where zhongli comforts chubby!reader when theyre in the middle of a big self doubt session? i have been looking for fics related to chubby comfort but i havent found any good ones :(

of course! thank you for requesting this one; this topic really resonates with me as well as many others <3

doubt in the eyes of a god

[zhongli x reader]

synopsis: reader is battling insecurities while zhongli is there to remind them that they are loved

hurt/comfort

cw: slight angst, body insecurities

Moments like these were hard to endure; moments when your body didn’t feel like it belonged to you; moments when you almost didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror due to constantly wishing that what you saw wasn’t real. Confidence, when constructed properly, can be used as a shield or a repellent to keep negative thoughts at bay, but outward confidence does not always reflect inwards. Confidence takes time, energy, and strength to build up, and in instances when your energy feels like it’s depleting, so does that confidence.

Negative thoughts and feelings have the tendency to build up over time, if we allow them to seek residence in our mind and in our hearts. But sharing these very personal emotions is no easy feat; it requires a great amount of courage that we may not always have. Consequently, acts of vulnerability tend to happen unwillingly, because sometimes, enough is enough.

And it was certainly becoming enough for you.

The rain that evening was so heavy outside that it was almost impossible to pinpoint when the sun had previously set. Outside was cold and gloomy, while inside was warm and cozy, but it was hard to feel warm inside with a growing list of mundane tasks, paired with an inability to concentrate on anything other than the self-deprecating thoughts that currently plagued your mind.

The rainwater that was running off of the overhang of your back porch was mesmerizing to watch; it was almost soothing. Watching the consistent stream of water gave your mind something to focus on, allowing you to be present, while the loud sounds of the intense rainfall drowned out a few of those raging thoughts. However one particularly persistent thought prevailed:

Why do I look like that?

A tidal wave of mixed emotions had already begun to consume you as tears fell before you could stop them. Doubts and insecurities clawed at your chest as sobs wracked your body, making breathing almost difficult.

Suddenly, the front door clicked open as a partially soaked Zhongli hurriedly stepped inside to escape the weather. After hanging his coat and removing his shoes, he announced his arrival, calling your name once, then twice. Yet your mind was unable to register anything he had said.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway as Zhongli made his way towards you, causing panic to set in as your lover would see you like this. But it was far too late to do anything about it as he knelt down beside you, brows furrowed in concern.

He said nothing at first, opting to wipe away a few stray tears with his fingers before standing up and leaving the room. He soon returned with a box of tissues and a glass of water in hand, placing them down on the coffee table behind you as he sat down next to your shaking form.

“Look at me, please.”

A gentle hand reached out to cup your cheek as he positioned your eyes to meet his. The expression you wore shattered a piece of Zhongli’s heart, but he hid it well as he moved to grab a couple of tissues to dry your eyes with.

Your lover had always been very patient with you, and would never push you to talk about something you weren’t ready to address with him yet, but the look of hurt and sadness that adorned your features indicated to him that this was something that your heart clearly could not handle.

As your sniffling eventually died down, he spoke again.

“Would you like to share with me what has been troubling you?”

With shaky breaths, you explained to him some of the thoughts you had been having.

He nodded in understanding before speaking up again.

“I see.”

He paused, reaching out to take both of your hands in his own.

“I have witnessed much from my many years of existence, and despite much war and hardship that has become of it, it is astonishing how beautiful this world can be. And now, as I am no longer the god I once was, I get to truly appreciate the many wonders that this world has to offer.”

You then felt Zhongli gently squeeze your hands as he traced small circles into your knuckles.

“After everything that I have seen and all the beauty that I have witnessed, the radiance which encompasses you will always be my favorite. You mean everything to me, and I have no regrets about meeting you. You have shown me what it feels like to be loved rather than revered as a deity; you have brought true joy into my life, simply by existing in it. To me, each day spent with you is as valuable as gold, and for that I must thank you.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“When I look at you every day, I am always astounded by the beauty of which you possess. I am amazed by your kindness and passion, enchanted by your wonder and curiosity, and no matter what may become of your physical form, those feelings will never change; I will always love you regardless.”

Removing his hands from yours, Zhongli moved to cup your face, giving you no other option but to gaze into his glowing amber eyes.

“Am I understood?”

You replied with a small nod, fresh tears threatening to spill at the lovingness of his words, before Zhongli pulled away and opened his arms to you.

“Come here.”

As soon as those words fell from his lips, you found yourself in the warmth of your lover’s arms. His hold was comforting and his touch soothing. The outside air that had followed him in filled your senses, and it took all your might not to fully melt into a puddle.

“I love you,” he spoke softly, “and I will not hesitate to remind you of that.”

[divinolenta]

tainted

albedo x gender neutral reader, angst/sfw

trigger warning for description of blood, fatal injuries and death

additional notes: this is based off of albedo’s line in the story quest (“if one day, i lose control... destroy mondstadt... destroy everything...can I rely on you to stop me?”) and inspired by all the fanart of corrupted albedo! take caution, as there may be potential spoilers. i recommend listening to “as the world caves in” by matt maltese.

word count: 835

blood is everywhere, viscous and crimson.

it stains the pure white snow, soaking your clothes and every inch of your skin, conquering everything it comes into contact with. you want to retch at the metallic tang that hangs in the air, how it’s warm and clings to you like a second skin. 

you cradle albedo in your arms, watching him with tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. festering desire is plunged into his chest, and albedo’s eyes are hazy, growing dimmer with every second that passes, every weakening beat of his heart. 

purple veins decorate his face and glow maliciously, pulsing in time with his heart, evidence of his corruption. he pastes on a smile, and takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. your body trembles as the furious winds howl, lashing against your cheeks, and it takes every ounce of your resolve to resist the urge to crumble. 

“i knew i could rely on you, traveller.” albedo whispers, and you strain to catch his dwindling voice. his eyes focus briefly on your face before wandering to his surroundings. knowing you could do nothing but to watch, you opt to hold him closer, provide solace in the form of your comfort during his dying moments. 

it’s uncanny, how albedo can still be so controlled and calm, even when he knows that death beckons him, drawing him closer to eternal rest. you swallow, silently begging to any god listening, to watch over him and guide him to a utopia, where he can finally find peace. 

albedo lets out a pained gasp and you panic, witnessing his facade crack, revealing the unrestrained terror that shines through. 

“it hurts.” he cries, trying to lift his head to examine his wound, but you hold him down, voice cracking as you soothe him, every saccharine lie that falls from your lips tasting bitter. albedo stares at you with wide, agitated eyes, chest heaving and you can’t hide your wince at how brittle his breathing is, it rattles in his chest like his soul is shaking the body that imprisons it, begging to leave behind the past and reunite with freedom.

i don’t want to die, his eyes say. 

“i know,” you murmur sadly, tears blurring your vision but you wipe them hastily before laying a hand on his cheek, thumb brushing away the stray tear that lingers on his cheekbone. 

“i’m...” you begin to shake your head as albedo tries to speak, blood trickling out the corner of his mouth, and he coughs, spitting up more. yet albedo looks at you with such desperate and pleading eyes that you relent. 

“...sorry.” 

“how...can..i.......be.....so.....selfish? ...forgive...me.....please?”

you flinch, a sob escaping your throat. “you’ll be alright. i'll get you down the mountain and we’ll get barbara to take a look.” you blabber in denial, anything to keep your mind off of the blood. it flows, and flows and flows, albedo’s very life force draining away. 

albedo simply gives you a weak smile. “left..........letter.....for you....on........desk.” having said everything he’s needed to. he slumps against your body, eyes closed in acceptance for what’s to come, and tears quietly slip down his face. 

listening to his agonized wheezes, you start to softly sing an old mondstadt song to distract him from his pain, anything to grant him a painless passing. your voice wobbles, and rises and falls in pitch as you grapple with the emotions that threaten to pull you under. 

the sun will rise again,

and we shall dance together,

we will reach the clouds 

and find wonders,

far, far above,

my dear friend,

do not fret,

for the sun will rise again.

a wistful smile graces his face, and albedo opens his mouth, before breaking into a bout of pained coughs. “thank you.” he whispers, and you press your forehead against his. 

“farewell, my friend.” 

you wait, wait until his chest stills, until the warmth seeps from his body. you’re silent for a couple of heartbeats, trembling as you start laughing hysterically, hunching over as tears stream down your face. 

you’ve gone mad, you think, before anguished wails take over, and your mind goes blank as grief claws at you. you’re shuddering from the intensity of your sobs, tremors running through your entire body, before you scream, scream albedo’s name, scream at the heavens for unjustly taking him from you. 

why? why must you do this to me?

your voice is raw and hoarse, and when you finally quiet, you’re broken. your heart has died along with albedo, and there’s only a dark cavity that gapes grotesquely in its place. 

the wind howls, and you swear you hear albedo’s voice, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. head bowed, you can only wish that he is happy now, free of all worries, free to frolic in lush meadows and bask in golden sunshine. 

back in mondstadt, the wind murmurs gently through the open window of the tavern, and venti listens intently. with a sorrowful smile, he says, “what a tragic night indeed.”

[dark1k]

❛ it’s just a scratch, don’t worry. ❜ (Markus to Connor!) for the short angst starters if you're still doing them!

LOVE this blog btw

Omg thank you so much 🥺 I’m so happy you like my blog! Thanks for the request, please enjoy!

•••

November 12th, 2039 // 11:33pm

The night wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.

Exactly one year ago, they had won their freedom. They faced down insurmountable odds and won. From the moment Connor approached Markus with an army of newly-awakened androids standing behind him, the pair had been inseparable. Markus often teased him over the circumstances in which their relationship developed, saying sickly sweet remarks such as, “I guess CyberLife did one thing right — sending you on that undercover mission in the cutest beanie imaginable! No wonder I fell head over heels instantly.” and more until Connor blushed a pretty cerulean and swatted his hands away.

Oh, how Connor wished they were nestled in bed, sharing lighthearted jabs and languid kisses in the fading streams of sunlight.

Instead, Markus’ thirium was staining his hands and the ground beneath their feet.

“Everybody out of the building!” Hank ordered the guests.

Pressing his suit jacket harder against the gunshot wound in Markus’ shoulder, Connor’s mind felt as if it was going a million miles an hour. The shooter was already apprehended, thanks to the heightened police detail attending tonight’s banquet, but how he managed such a shot in the first place, let alone how he bypassed security, was a mystery. An event to celebrate the one-year anniversary of the Battle of Detroit was now a battle against the clock and Connor’s movements gradually grew more frantic.

“Markus, please keep your eyes open. The android medical unit is only five minutes away. Just keep your focus on me.” Even in the recesses of Connor’s memory, he could never remember a time where his voice cracked, almost begging as he attempted to stay level-headed. Having met Markus so late in the revolution, he never witnessed him actively get shot. Only the aftermath of such brutality in the middle of that foggy street, when their stories first intertwined.

Connor absolutely hated it.

Unaware to his knowledge, Markus’ audio processors were already damaged, sending the leader nothing but a feedback loop of screeching static. Connor saw his eyebrows furrow and his undamaged arm move toward the hands against his shoulder. He blinked sluggishly and his voice crackled as he spoke.

“What’s wrong? Why do you look so sad?” Markus asked, and Connor quickly realized that he was definitely confused, not fully aware of his surroundings or the severity of what happened. This only served to worsen Connor’s panic, did Markus hit his head when he dropped? Has the gunshot caused more damage than initially believed? Connor pleaded to whatever deity might exist — RA9, God, frankly it didn’t matter — that Markus’ faulty biocomponents weren’t causing his memory to glitch out.

And to think, Markus was the one who got shot and yet, here he was inquiring about Connor’s emotional well-being.

“Fuck, Markus, don’t worry about me. You’re going to be absolutely fine. The medical team is almost here. You're doing great, please stay with me." Not responding to his words, he lolled his head to the side and Connor saw his eyes widen, taking in the excess of blue blood coating their clothes. It appeared to click that he was obviously injured and using the same undamaged arm he moved earlier, Markus squeezed Connor’s hand. The detective felt sick when his brain examined how the gesture lacked the same amount of strength he usually possessed.

“It’s just a scratch, don’t worry.”

A hysterical laugh left Connor’s mouth before he could stop himself. Of course the leader of the android uprising would compare a through-and-through gunshot wound with a scratch. Shaking his head, he only squeezed Markus’ hand back in response and avoided looking at how much thirium was spreading across the white linoleum floors.

A minute that felt like an eternity later, the ballroom doors bursted open and the medical unit was swiftly pushing Connor aside. In his delirium and confusion, Markus reached out and attempted to keep the grip on his hand, but his weakened state and the slippery slick of blue blood caused it to be a fruitless effort. He keened and Connor decided it was the worst sound he ever heard.

Having started their ministrations, one of the doctors looked up at Connor as the others began opening a stretcher. “He’s lost a good amount of thirium, we need to transport him to the nearest hospital for further treatment. You’re welcome to join us in the ambulance but we need to leave right now.” Connor was already nodding his head before he finished talking, immediately walking back to Markus’ side once he was situated in the gurney.

Markus, who was typically so intense and focused on everything around him, was losing that awareness as his body started going into a forced shutdown.

Connor grasped onto his hands again, jogging in place with the medical team towards the exit. “Hey, hey. I’m going to stay by your side the entire time, you’ll be good as new in no time. Okay, Markus? We’ll be home soon enough and we’ll watch those nature documentaries you love so much. I promise.”

Still hearing nothing but static, Markus scarcely nodded his head in affirmation to whatever his boyfriend was telling him. It must have been something important for how fast his lips were moving and how his eyes never stopped roaming across his body, almost in a frenzied state. A moment later, he was succumbing to his body’s demands to shut down, the sudden exhaustion overtaking his systems too much to bear.

Connor barely glanced at Hank, who was managing the crime scene, and the others handling the surplus of press stationed outside, before he was boarding the ambulance. Markus’ thirium had evaporated by the time they reached the hospital, as if the entire event had been nothing but a horrible nightmare. A nightmare that wouldn't end for several hours.

As the clock struck midnight on November 13th, 2039, there were no celebrations to be found.