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baroquebucky · 3 years

Text

canvas

artist!reader gets a new grumpy neighbor, so you decide to color his world

word count: 5.3k >.<

masterlist

a/n: hi bffs ! hope u r all well <3 thank u lovely anon for this request !! <33 let me know what u all think :] pls forgive my lack of knowledge in art don’t attack me i tried </3 sorry for any typos !!

Your apartment was on the fourth floor in the corner, you had no neighbor to the right of you and a beautiful view of the skyline to your left. There was ms. Mary, the nice old lady across from you, who you helped bring up groceries every week and had dinner with at least once a week. It was nice not having a neighbor, you could blast your music at ungodly hours while you painted and you wouldn't feel guilty or get evicted.

So you were filled with mixed emotions when you saw a stack of boxes outside the door of the vacant apartment. You eyed the boxes as you crossed the hall catching a glimpse of the messy writing on one box ‘gifts from sam.’

You knocked on the door across from yours, a small canvas in your hands as you waited patiently, smiling slightly.

“y/n, hello dear how are you?” Ms. Mary smiled at you, her house smelt of delicious food and you could tell she had been cooking.

“I'm fine, just wanted to drop off this painting I made you!” you grinned at her, holding out the small canvas with your hands and handing it to her. She smiled brightly as she took in all the colors.

“oh this is beautiful! let me get my purse-” she made a move to grab the purse hanging by the door but you stopped her.

“oh no its free! I know how much you miss back home and you always talk about the landscape and so you know I figured this could be a piece of home” you smiled sweetly and she set the painting down, pulling you in for a hug.

“you are the sweetest thing, let me at least get you some dinner, I'm making your favorite tonight” she winked and you couldn't stop the bashful smile on your lips.

“oh I guess” you giggled, “if you insist” you teased and she smiled, letting you into her apartment and closing the door behind you.

“I wonder who's gonna move in next to you” she asked and you nodded along. “someone as nice as you I hope” you grinned and she scoffed. “there's no one as nice as me honey” she joked and you laughed with her, heading over to her couch and sitting down gently. “maybe it'll be a guy, you can finally get out and date” she teased and you blushed.

“ms. Mary!” you gasped and she gave you a toothy grin, giggling as she finished cooking. “I- I date” you huffed, “sometimes.”

“guess we'll have to wait and see huh” she asked and you nodded, getting up and taking the two plateful of foods from her and setting them on the table, getting drinks for the two of you and pulling the chair out for her.

While you helped her with the dishes after dinner you heard a couple of unfamiliar voices in the hall, you looked at each other before you went to the door, looking out the peep hole.

“I think its my new neighbor” you whispered and she shoved you to the side, looking for herself.

“you should go say hi!” ms. Mary grinned, already moving to push you out, “tell me how it goes” she smiled and you laughed.

“goodnight ms. Mary thank you for the food” you told her and she smiled pulling you in for a tight hug.

“thank you for the painting” she spoke, pulling away and waving you off, with a mischievous smile.

You rolled your eyes as you walked across the hall, taking a deep breath before looking over to your new neighbor, there were still a couple boxes left, you almost headed over before you realized you had nothing to give them. Your eyes went wide and you ran into your apartment before they could see you.

You looked around your apartment, wondering what you could give them. Your eyes landed on the new blanket you had bought, it was a fuzzy cream colored one that you'd bought two days ago and had yet to use, everyone likes blankets right?

So you shoved it in a nice box alongside some chocolate and put a bow on it, drawing a smiley face on the outside. You smiled at the gift, hopeful they would accept it warmly. You took a deep breath and opened your door, holding the box in your hands and walking slowly to the door next to yours.

You knocked three times, your heart racing as you heard the door unlock. Your heart rate only increased as the door opened, a tall figure being revealed.

no fucking way.

“yes?” the man looked at you and the box and then looked around before his eyes settled back on you.

“I- hi! im your neighbor over here” you laughed nervously, pointing to your door, “I just wanted to give you a little housewarming gift!” you smiled, extending your arms and waiting for him to take the box from you, but he only stared at it. You cleared your throat and shifted awkwardly.

“i promise its nothing bad” you smiled, presenting the box and its golden bow once more. The metal armed man took it softly from you, eyeing it for a second. “I’m y/n by the way” you spoke up after a second.

“im bucky” he spoke cooly and you smiled brightly at him, he made no intent to keep the conversation going and you stood awkwardly.

“I was gonna paint you something but I realized I didn't know anything about you but I mean now I guess I know your name so we can work with that!” you grinned at him and he smiled at you.

“my friends say I need more color in my life” he chuckled dryly, opening the box finally.

“color” you paused, ideas filling your head. immediately, “I can work with that” you smiled at him, watching his reaction closely.

Bucky eyes landed on the blanket, immediately reaching out and petting it, a smile forming when he felt how plush it was. He realized you were still looking at him an the tried his best to keep a stoic expression.

“uh thank you for this” he held the box up a little and you nodded quickly.

“oh for sure! if you ever need anything you know where to find me, im home all the time” you smiled, cringing at how lame you made yourself sound. Before you could say anything else you went slipped into your apartment and closed the door, letting out a sigh when you sat on your couch.

Bucky sat on his couch, holding the blanket in his hands and cuddling into it, smiling at the warmth. It smelled like fresh flowers, is that how your apartment smelled? You were so sweet and welcoming, and you were beautiful.

His eyes shot open when he processed his thoughts, why was he thinking like that? he barely met you, its probably just because you were one of the only people to be kind to him. He shook his thoughts away, flicking the tv on. You would probably forget about him in a day or two and he would forget about you within the week.

Bucky loved the blanket you got him, it was warm and soft and cozy. It felt comforting as he slept with it draped over him. However your music kept him awake.

It was 3:37 am, why were you awake? The music wasn't exactly loud, but his heightened senses made it feel like the music was being played right next to his ear. To anyone else it would barely be noticeable, and he tried to go to sleep despite it, but he couldn't.

He frowned as he threw on a hoodie and some grey sweats, heading over to your door and staring at it for a couple seconds before knocking twice. You paused your music, confused as to who the hell was awake at this hour and you opened the door, eyes wide as you saw bucky.

“oh bucky hi!” you smiled, the bags under your eyes causing him to worry for a second.

“ I was just- is it- do you think you could turn your music down?” he asked kindly, feeling guilty. Your mouth flew open as you realized it must've been too loud.

“oh god yeah of course im so sorry! I didnt think it was loud im sorry did I keep you up?” you rambled, guilt eating at you as you took in the fact that he looked extremely tired. Bucky gave you a slight nod and you wanted the world to swallow you whole, your face burning and heart racing.

“im so sorry I really thought it wasn't so loud god I promise im a nice neighbor” you smiled sheepishly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“why are you up so late anyway?” bucky asked, the words falling from his mouth before he could stop himself. You smiled at his question and shrugged.

“I always get inspired and work better late at night” you laughed softly picking at the paint on your sleeve.

“what do you work as? if you don't mind me asking” he questioned, the lack of sleep working to bolden him.

“im an artist! I paint and stuff” you smiled, moving so he could see the canvas you were working on, “wanted to get this commission done by tonight and music helps me” you explained, looking at bucky. His eyes were wide as he took in the painting.

“that's beautiful” he whispered and you blushed, mumbling a shy thank you and glancing between the painting and bucky before settling on bucky.

“ill let you go to sleep,, I'm sure avengers have to be up to run three miles at sunset” you joked and bucky smiled softly at you.

“im kinda doing my own thing for now, taking a break from all that” he spoke and you nodded along to his words.

“breaks are alway good, if you pick up painting as a hobby I’ll teach you” you teased and he chuckled.

“where’s the nearest art store?” he asked quickly and you almost choked, a blush rising onto your cheeks, “goodnight y/n” he smiled and you nodded quickly.

“goodnight bucky” you replied quickly, heart still racing from his words.

You saw bucky quite often, the two of you always leaving your apartments at the same time, laughing together as you said hi and giggling when one of you would accidentally talk over the other. You would usually walk down together before heading your separate ways.

It was like that for almost a month, the two of you just making small talk, sometimes you'd both have dinner with ms. Mary and do the dishes together, your heart in a frenzy the whole time.

“i can wash the you can just dry them” you told him, rolling your sleeves up and already grabbing the sponge, bucky stood next to you, leaning on the counter and looking at you with a small smile.

“why do you always wash ‘em, always have me drying them” bucky pouted, you tried your best to not smile at how cute he looked.

“won’t your arm get messed up or something?” You asked, nervous that he would laugh at you for asking something that was probably common knowledge.

“you worrying about me dollface?” Bucky teased and you rolled your eyes, a small frown on your face. Bucky noticed immediately and grinned, sticking his metal hand under the running water and wiggling his fingers infront of you.

“perfectly fine” he smiled at you and you nodded, your heart racing at the proximity between the two of you. You shoved the last plate into his hands, nodding quickly and mumbling something before saying goodnight to Ms. Mary and heading to your apartment.

You screamed into your pillow as soon as you crashed into your bed, thrashing around before taking a deep breath. After only a month, maybe less you had completely fallen for bucky, and you hadn’t even properly spent time alone together. You let out a small sigh, chewing on your bottom lip as you wondered if he felt the same.

Yes he was flirty but what if he was like that with everyone? He was always sweet to Ms. Mary and you saw him chatting with Julia four doors down one time, and she surely was laughing her head off.

Jealousy filled your chest and you wanted to punch yourself. You weren’t even dating, for fucks sake you didn’t even think he liked you. So you pushed your feelings away, putting them in a small box and hiding it in the back of your mind.

Bucky tried his best to not make a fool out of himself around you, always trying his best to charm you. He would blush when he realized your heart was beating so fast because of him, and it'd only make him flirt with you even more, hoping you'd pick up the signals that he most definitely had a crush on you.

After that dinner with Ms. Mary you became more distant with bucky, keeping conversation short and you weren’t as half as enthusiastic as you used to be when you talked to him. He frowned when you waved him off quickly when you were entering the building, saying something about paint expiring and running into the elevator.

Had he done something? Was he too forward with his feelings? Maybe he did too much and now you hated him, or maybe you dug into his past and realized that he wasn’t all smiles and bad jokes.

Bucky decided to give you some space, he didn’t say hi to you anymore and didn’t show up for dinner with Ms. Mary if he knew you’d be there.

His chest would tighten a bit when he heard you going out with friends on weekends, coming home late at night and fumbling with your keys before giggling to yourself and finally getting in. Bucky would always stay up, listening for you and only going to sleep when he knew you were safe at home.

It was Saturday night and bucky was watching some show you’d recommend to him a little over a month ago, back when the two of you still talked often. It was almost 3 am and he’d yet to hear you stumbling into your apartment, the urge to call you ate at him but he stopped himself.

“ten more minutes and then I’ll call” he told himself, his leg bouncing as he checked the clock constantly. As soon as the ten minutes had passed and there was no sign of you he texted you.

hi, it’s bucky are you home?

He stared at his phone, waiting for you to reply, his heart racing when it lit up with your name.

bucky !!!!!!!! i an drunj heheh i thinj my fribds left :((((((((

His heart fell, were you at a club alone? We’re you on the street walking home or on a bus or subway?

where are you? I’ll come get you

oooo worrying abt me sergeant barnes ??? ;))))))

You were sat at some park bench, your feet aching from the heels you wore. In complete honesty you had left your friends, growing annoyed at them making out with guys while your mind was only on your metal armed neighbor.

yes doll, now where are you?

You vote butterflies from the text, sending him your location and stumbling over to the empty swing set, pushing yourself and swinging lightly until bucky came.

Bucky immediately grabbed his keys, hopping in his car and getting to you as fast as he could. He smiled as he saw your figure on the swings, swaying lightly in the park light and looking over your shoulder, smiling when bucky got out of his car and headed towards you.

“bucky! you really came for me!” You cheered, jumping out of the swing set and almost falling over. Bucky was quick to catch you, stressing you against him and smiling at you.

“‘course i did, still need you to teach me how to paint” he teased and you smiled, eyes sparkling as you looked at him, “let’s get you home.”

The ride back was quiet, you were falling asleep in the passenger seat, bucky had given you his hoodie so you wouldn’t get cold in the dress you wore, bucky had put your heels in the backseat. By the time you got to apartments you were knocked out, brows slightly furrowed as you slept.

Bucky turned the car off, getting out and jogging over to the passenger side, opening the door softly and easily carrying you in his arms, grabbing your heels and walking into the building and getting in the elevator.

He held you easily with his metal arm, pressing the fourth floor button and waiting for the soft ‘ding.’ When the doors finally opened he walked down the hall, opening his own door and setting you on his couch gently.

“y/n” he whispered, shaking you softly. A small hum left your lips but you didn’t open your eyes, “wake up doll” he persisted, shaking you softly until your eyes fluttered open.

“hm?” you asked, taking in your surroundings before realizing you were in buckys apartment, “thought i was at the club” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes and realizing you were wearing a black hoodie.

“needed you to wake up so you can get to your apartment, dunno where you have your keys” he smiled and you nodded, yawning and looking around for your purse.

“did i have my purse when you picked me up?” you mumbled, still slightly drunk. Bucky shook his head and you frowned. “think i left it in my friends car” bucky frowned and looked at the time, it was almost 4 am already.

“you can just crash here tonight” bucky smiled, extending his hand hour for you.

You were too exhausted you fight back, nodding your head and laying back down on the couch, completely ignoring him.

“what’re you doing?” He laughed softly and you frowned at him.

“going to sleep” you replied, he shook his head before pulling you up softly.

“you’re not gonna sleep on the couch” he smiled, “i am” you shook your head and he rolled his eyes, walking you to his bedroom.

“i cant that’s mean” you protested and bucky sighed.

“y/n please, i don’t want your back or neck hurting in the morning” he pleaded and you thought about it for a second, reluctantly giving in.

“okay thank you james” you smiled, moving to slip into the bed still in the dress and hoodie.

“here you can change into this doll, the restrooms over there, goodnight sweet dreams” he smiled, handing you one of his shirts and some shorts he’d accidentally shrunk in the dryer.

“wait!” You called out, stumbling into the hall after him, he turned around quickly, worry on his face as he looked at you. “thank you” you smiled, kissing him on the check before turning around and heading to the restroom to change.

Bucky smiled brightly, giggling to himself as he made himself comfy on the floor, covering himself with the blanket you’d given him.

He didn’t expect you to be awake before him, and he especially didn’t expect you to be waking him up for homemade breakfast, a bright smile on your face.

“good morning buck! i made us breakfast” you beamed and he rubbed his eyes sleepily.

“i though- how are- weren’t you hungover?” He asked, looking at the clock, it was 9 am why were already awake?

“don’t really get hungover, i took medicine already, and got my keys back! figured I’d cook you breakfast as a thank you” you smiled.

“but i don’t even have eggs” he furrowed his brows, and you nodded.

“cooked it at my place” you grinned, rushing him to get up, “get ready before the food gets cold! I’ll be waiting” you cheered, walking out of his apartment and closing his door.

He sat there for a few seconds before realizing you were literally waiting for him. He tripped over his blanket as he got up, running to get ready.

He knocked on your door three times, smiling when you opened the door happily.

“bucky! didn’t expect to see you today” you teased and he smiled as you let him in, grabbing his hand and leading him to the table.

It was the first time he’d ever been in your apartment and he was amazed at how you it was. There were a couple plants scattered throughout the apartment, some art pieces hanging on your walls along with photos of who he assumed was family and friends.

He took note of the makeshift studio you had in the corner by the window, all your paint brushes messily scattered and a couple of half finished paintings were propped up against the wall.

The one on the easel caught his eye, it was filled with pastel colors, a sunset over a flower field. He tore his eyes from the art when he heard you set a glass of hot chocolate infront of him, small marshmallows floating in the hot drink.

“you said you’re a hot chocolate kind of guy” you smiled and bucky nodded, his heart warming at the fact that you remembered something he mentioned in passing one of the times you two talked on the way out of your apartments.

“thanks uh- thanks for taking care of me last night” you smiled, eating the food you’d made.

Bucky smiled, taking big bites of the food, maybe it was because you were an amazing cook or because he was starving, but it was the best breakfast he’d had in years.

“oh yeah of course, just got worried when you didn’t come back the same time you usually do” he replied, stomach dropping when he realized what he’d said. “I mean it was just late- i got worried because it was late” he quickly spoke, but it was too late now.

“you- wait do you wait up for me when i go out?” You questioned, your face heating up. Buckys eyes were wide and he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

“you do? oh my god bucky” you gasped, your hand flying to your mouth, you wanted to cry from how endearing that was, you wanted to pepper his face with kisses and hold him tightly.

Bucky thought you wanted to kick him out and beat him with your brushes. His heart was on the floor and you were spitting on it with every second that passes.

“I’m sorry- i just i would get worried and i couldn’t sleep until i knew you were safe and god you probably think im a creep or something if you wanna get me kicked out i understand im so sorry i- im gonna go” bucky rushed out, getting up quickly and moving towards the door but you followed him quickly.

“wait not bucky! wait!” You smiled, grabbing his wrist and turning him around, he was shocked to see you smiling up at him, his face contorted in confusion.

“I don’t think you’re weird, i think it’s sweet” you spoke, intertwining your fingers with his, your smile was dazzling and bucky swore his knees buckled.

“really?” he breathed out and you nodded.

“i honestly thought you hated me” you laughed softly, slipping your hand out of his and fiddling with your sleeve.

“now why would you think that?” He asked, head cocking to the side, he could hear your heart rate speed up, you were about to lie to him.

“you didn’t talk to me anymore” okay fine half truth, you didn’t look up at him and frowned.

“you were pushing me away, i didn’t wanna be pushy” bucky replied, eyeing the way you shifter under his gaze, “is that really why?” he added, moving closer to you.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his stormy blue ones. You opened your mouth before closing it quickly, shaking your head and taking a deep breath.

“it’s dumb just forget it” you laughed nervously, “anyway yeah thanks for taking care of me” you spoke and bucky shook his head.

“y/n tell me” his voice was firm and it sent a shiver down your spine. You looked at him before turning away quickly.

“i just- god i like you okay!” You spat out, flailing your arms as you spoke.

“I have this stupid crush on you and I’ve had it since like the third week you moved in and i saw you chatting it up with Julia” you emphasized, not bothering to hide the vein in your words.

“I know you don’t like me and i thought pushing you away would make me stop liking you but i just couldn’t stop thinking about you” at this point you were pacing, bucky watched you with a small smile, but you were too caught up to notice.

“So i started going out to clubs thinking other guys could make me forget but i get there and i just hate everyone because they’re not you” you frowned.

“So instead of stumbling home with some guy im stumbling back alone with more art supplies and i spend the night listening to your stupid 40s music and painting this fucking painting for the past couple of weeks” you sighed, pointing at the piece on the easel. You gave yourself time to breathe, looking at bucky and seeing him standing in shock at your ramble.

Just as he was about to speak you cut him off, tears pricking at your eyes.

“before you say anything- i just-” you let out a shaky sigh, “do you even like the painting?” You asked, eyes watery and vision blurry from the pooled up tears.

Buckys heart broke at the sight of you, your shoulders slumped and you looked absolutely defeated. He took two strides and placed his hands on either side of your face, crashing his lips onto yours.

Your eyes went wide before you melted into the kiss, fluttering your eyes shut and relaxing against him.

You pulled away with a small smile, a tear falling from your face, bucky was quick to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, kissing your cheek.

“i love the painting dollface” he smiled, leaning his forehead against yours before placing a swift kiss on your lips.

You smiled, biting your bottom lip and wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.

“can i talk now? or do you have more to say?” Bucky asked gently and you shook your head against his chest. He picked you up easily, heading over to the couch and sitting down, placing you gently next to him.

“I’ve had feelings for you since you invited me over for dinner with ms. Mary the first time” bucky chuckled and your eyes went wide.

“but that was only like two weeks after you moved in?” You spoke and he nodded, his cheeks turning pink.

“I was chatting it up with Julia because she has a cat and I’ve been thinking of getting one, so i was asking her bout some shelters nearby and the cost of having one here” bucky smiled, giggling at the way you mumbled a small ‘oh.’

“there wasn’t a weekend i didn’t stay up waiting to hear you fumble with your keys and get home safely, i wanted to make sure you were safe doll, can’t have my favorite girl in danger can i?” Bucky grinned, hearing your heart race at his words and smiling brightly.

“your favorite girl?” You asked, biting your bottom lip to try and contain your smile.

“mhm” he affirmed, “want you to be my girl, doll” he smiled nervously, heart beating in his ears, “will you be my girl?”

You smiled widely as you threw yourself onto him, your arms wrapping around him and holding him tightly, “of course.”

Bucky hugged you back, a smile on his face as the two of you savored the moment, you pulled back and kissing him hastily, giggling in between kisses.

Once the two of you had calmed down a bit you got up from the couch and walked over to the painting, taking it in your hands and over to bucky who stood up to grab it.

“here, you said you needed color in your life right? so i tried to add as many as i could” you smiled softly, excitement bubbling in your chest as he took in the piece, letting out a small wow.

“cant wait to hang it up doll” he grinned, kissing you softly.

“i still need more color in my life though” he frowned and your heart fell.

“i thought you liked it?” You frowned and bucky nodded.

“i love it doll! it’s just-” he paused, looking at you with a smile, “to get more color in my life im gonna need more paintings” he began.

“to get more paintings im gonna need to take up painting as a hobby” he grinned, furrowing his brows and brining his hand to his chin, “doll do you know any artists in the area willing to help me?” He asked, and you smiled at him, nodding.

“i think i know one girl willing to help” you grinned and bucky smiled, his arms snaking around your waist, you let your arms rest ontop of his shoulders, your fingers lacing together behind his neck,

“i hope she calls me sergeant barnes over text with winky faces” bucky sighed dreamily and your eyes went wide.

“did i do that!?” You shrieked, bucky threw his head back in laughter, causing you to slap his arm softly.

“used my own line against me” bucky frowned, grabbing his phone and showing you the conversation. You scrunched your nose up at your texts, smiling a bit as you got to the message in question.

“you know, good for me” you nodded, “also good to know sergeant barnes does in fact worry about me” you smiled, kissing him softly.

“you know i do, who else is gonna help me color my world?” He replied quickly, smiling as he kissed your forehead.

“you’re right, dunno anyone besides sam that can tolerate how grumpy you are half the time” you nodded and bucky pulled away from you, pouting and sitting in the couch with a huff.

“boo, you suck” he spoke, arms crossed. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, sitting next to him and peppering his face with kisses.

“cant believe my boyfriend boo’ed me not even a day into our relationship” you giggled and bucky smiled. Boyfriend, he could get used to that.

“just wanna know when my art lessons are gonna start” bucky teased, smiling at you brightly when you got up and ran to the closet, pulling out a bunch of art supplies.

You began rambling on about all these different art styles you’d been wanting to try while you continued to pull more supplies from the closet.

“-just didn’t know when to start trying and i figured we could both learn and grow together! i got us these new paints and brushes to try and there’s this brand-” you continued, eyes shining as you carried supplies to your art corner.

Bucky watched you enthusiastically, a soft smile on his face as he listened intently, soaking up everything you had to say.

“also got us matching aprons!” You finished, a bright smile on your face when you held the two aprons up. Bucky got up from the couch and walked towards you, a smile on his face as he took the aprons from you, slipping one onto you and the other onto himself.

You smiled up at him, about to say something when he leaned down, kissing you again. It was filled with love and sweetness and everything good in the world. It made your knees buckle and head spin.

Bucky pulled away with a small smile, kissing you swiftly once more for good measure before finally speaking up.

“teach me all you know y/n y/l/l.”

783 notes · View notes

titanicsimp · 3 years

Text

Set an example

Pairing: Porco Galliard x fem!reader, a bit of Reiner Braun x reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Oral, vaginal sex, sex against the door, listening in, slight voyeurism, possessive/rough sex, a tinge of humiliation

Summary: Reiner keeps on showing up at your door, and Porco has had enough of it. Seems he will have to make it clear who has you by giving him an example.

How long had Porco’s face been buried between your thighs? You weren’t sure, but your legs shook the more he flicked his tongue over your clit.

It had been late already when you had started, and now the night was well on its way. The light of the moon pouring in through the gaps in your curtains and the oil lamp on your nightstand illuminated the room, casting your forms in a warm light.

You had cum three times already, yet Porco showed no sign of stopping. He laps eagerly at your wet cunt, eyes focused on your face. Whimpers and calls of his name leave your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

Both of you startle when there’s a knock at your door, followed by someone calling your name.

“Are you still awake?”

Reiner. Just as you realize, Porco seems to as well, quickly sitting up between your legs. His expression is filled with irritation as he wipes off his mouth on the back of his hand. “What the hell does he want?!”

You gather the sheet against your body and slip off of the bed, concerned Reiner needs help.

Porco catches onto your arm before you can reach the door. “What are you doing?!”

You give him a confused look. “I’m going to see if Reiner’s alright.”

He looks you over, discontent showing in his eyes. “Like this? No way.”

Another knock sounds at your door and you try to pull your arm away, but Porco’s grip is tight.

“He’s fine! The only reason he keeps knocking on your damn door almost every night is because he has a sad fucking crush on you!”

You shake your head at your boyfriend’s words, a frown showing on your face. Reiner knows that you and Porco are dating, so why would he do this? It doesn’t make sense to you.

“I’m just going to make sure he’s alright.” You tell Porco stubbornly.

He’s not going to let this go. You can think whatever you want, but he has seen the way Reiner looks at you and follows you around like a lost puppy. He clearly does not understand or care that you are his. “If he wasn’t then he would’ve called out already!”

Porco points at the door. “You hear that? He’s still shuffling around out there.”

You pout at him. “Probably because you are yelling.”

Taking advantage of his offended blabbering in response to your comment, you pull your arm loose and sprint to the door. Just as your hand surrounds the doorknob he pushes you up against the door from behind.

“Porco!”

His breathing is ragged against your neck, his still naked form pressing up against you. “He needs to back off.” He rips away the sheet that was flimsily covering your body.

You gasp as he slides his fingers through your slick, quickly finding your swolen clit. You moan softly as he circles the nub, your hand on the doorknob quivering. You can hear it too now, the slow shuffling outside.

“See?” Porco says, his mouth so close to your ear that his hot breath makes you shiver. “He wouldn’t stay to listen to this if there was an emergency, now would he?!”

You cry out in shame when Porco bites the top of your ear, his fingers pressing down roughly on your clit. “I-I’m sorry!”

He places a trail of kisses down your neck, his mouth feeling amazing against your heated skin. “It’s not your fault.” He slams one of his hands against the door. “He just needs to be taught a fucking lesson.”

His fingers leave your clit and he grabs onto your hips. Your eyes widen when he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance. “Wait! Porco, he’s still there!”

Without mercy, he slides his cock into you in one hard thrust. Your walls are still quivering from your earlier orgasms and you quickly put your hands against the door to brace yourself.

“Don’t you want me to fuck you?” Porco questions, his hips slamming against your ass at a fast pace.

You try to keep your noises down, flustered over the fact your friend is probably hearing this. “I do! But he’s going to hear.”

“Let him hear.” He declares and slams into you harder.

Moans slip from your lips and the wet sound that’s made by every slide of his cock into you can easily be heard. You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment, hoping Reiner has walked away.

“Bet that fucker is listening in.” Porco growls behind you. “Shit, tell him who you belong to.”

You rest your forehead against the door, legs, and head turning to jelly from his harsh pounding. “W-what?”

“Tell him who you belong to! Tell him who’s filling this tight cunt!” He lands a sharp slap on your ass.

“You! I belong to you, Porco!” You yelp out, gasping at his rough treatment.

He groans in content as your walls grip him tightly. “That’s it.” The chuckle that leaves his lips has you whimpering. “Just can’t resist cumming on my cock, can you slut?”

Your face burns in shame and tears prick at the corners of your eyes, though the ecstasy of your orgasm has you arching your back. There’s no use trying to deny it, you are getting off on this.

Porco’s nails dig into the skin of your hip as he slams into you, groans and curses spilling from his lips. The situation has him feeling conflicted. He’s pissed off at Reiner, but now, pounding into your tight heat, he’s enjoying what’s happening. The glimpses of your embarrassed face and the knowledge that Reiner knows exactly what Porco’s doing to you has his cock twitching inside you.

“P-Porco, my legs!”

Your voice pulls him from his trance. It’s clear what you mean as he watches your knees buckle and shake, a satisfied smirk showing on his face at what he caused. “So needy.”

You yelp when he turns you around, pressing your back against the wood with a bang. He looks feral as he picks you up, locking your legs around his waist and clawing at your ass. His hair is a mess and a fine layer of sweat coats his chest, which he presses up against yours passionately.

Porco doesn’t waste time, entering you in this new position. Your hands find his shoulders as he thrusts up into, picking up right where he left off.

“You’re so fucking good, I love this cunt.” He groans out, pressing his forehead to yours.

You mewl from the way your breasts rub up against his chest every time he slams into you. You can’t muster the energy anymore to care about Reiner hearing you.

“Please.”

Porco’s eyes lock onto yours. He knows what you want, the look in your eyes sending a rush through his body. God, he loves it when you look at him that way, but tonight it isn’t enough. “Please what? Tell me what you want me to do. Loudly.”

You bite your lip. Everything about him tells you he won’t let up. You surprise yourself with the new wetness that coats his length, the thought thrilling you more than you expected. Your added slickness doesn’t escape his attention either and he squeezes impatiently at your ass.

“I want you to cum inside me! Please, please fill me with your cum!” You cry out after he gives an encouraging sharp thrust.

He grunts out your name, his hips rutting against you erratically. His cock keeps sliding against your weak spots, and your overstimulated body doesn’t stand a chance, you��ll reach your next orgasm soon.

“Say my name.” He commands.

You obey happily, screaming out his name repeatedly as he rushes you both to your orgasms. The back of your head falls against the door as his cock twitches and he slams himself inside of you to the hilt. You join him in pleasure as your orgasm is prompted by feeling him pump robes of cum into your cunt.

Porco cups your chin with one hand, prompting you to look at him. “Now he knows what you are.” He starts and leans in closer. “My little slut, who climaxes from getting pumped full of cum.”

You can only whimper in response, his cock still spilling his seed inside of you while your walls squeeze him in encouragement.

He carries you to the bed with a satisfied look on his face, remaining inside you.

You whine when he slides out of your sore form after he lays you down on the mattress.

“Well, do you still want to open the door for him?” Porco asks, looking down at you. Your hair is a messy frame around your face, your eyes watery and your cunt dripping with his cum.

“N-no.” You reply weakly. Like you could ever show your face when you are this fucked out.

He smiles triumphantly. “That’s what I thought.”

Reiner stood outside of your room, one arm pressed against the door as he panted, his hand covered in his cum. Fuck, this hadn’t been his intention when he got here. Your voice had been too sweet and your moans irresistible, he couldn’t help himself. Porco might have made it clear who belonged to who, but the taste of you Reiner had been giving ensured he wasn’t giving up so easily.

#porco x reader #porco galliard #smut #aot #porco #snk #fanfic #lemon #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot smut #snk smut #porco x reader smut #porco smut #porco galliard x reader

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queen-rowenas · 3 years

Text

sparks fly - 1.3k words, destiel, first kiss

Cas is back.

After defeating Chuck and fixing the world, Jack brought him and the other angels back, good as new, wings and all. It’s the first time in years that he’s had his batteries at full power. And he’s still getting used to being a fully-powered angel.

There’s a lot he’s getting used to.

Like being Dean’s.

It first happens when they get back to the bunker after finding Cas. Dean slings his backpack off his shoulder and onto the war room table before faltering, casting half of a glance at the angel lingering close by. Sam gives the pair a pointed glance over Eileen’s head as he wraps his arm around her and heads to the kitchen.

Dean clears his throat, starts to turn to look at Cas, but stops himself. Even though he’s spent weeks not wanting to look at anything else, hoping to catch a glimpse of him after watching the Empty swallow him up.

Steeling himself, Dean turns fully to face him, and he sucks in a breath. Castiel looks at him expectantly, eyes a little too wide, a little too hesitant.

Everything had happened so fast earlier, seeing those blue eyes again, the emotions bubbling up and threatening to burst out of Dean’s chest as he threw his arms around the angel and buried his face in his shoulder and cried.

But that had been it. Castiel had smiled, glassy eyed, and hugged Sam and Eileen too, and the four had piled into the Impala to go home.

And now they were here, safe and whole and together. And a new fear is trying to crawl up Dean’s throat and choke him as he stares, opening his mouth with no words.

But there’s nothing to be afraid of now. There aren’t any monsters lurking, for now at least. There isn’t any cruel writer trying to keep them apart or in line. And there isn’t any doubt holding them back now. Castiel had made his feelings pretty clear.

Cas shifts back a step, idly running his fingers over the war room table, eyes looking at anything but Dean, and a thought strikes through Dean like lightning.

He doesn’t know.

And Dean can’t stand for that, so he closes the space between them and takes Cas’s face in trembling hands, his heart pounding in his ears, and he kisses him.

Every lightbulb in the room bursts in a shower a sparks and glass.

Dean flinches and looks up as the room goes dark before the emergency lights kick on, casting them in a low, red light. He’s still holding Cas’s face in his hands, the angel staring at him with wide eyes, lips parted.

Cas blinks a few times before glancing up too, a faint blush on his cheeks barely visible under the low light.

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “Was that you?”

Cas alternates between staring at Dean and avoiding his gaze, absently licking his lips, which is totally unfair how distracting it is. “Yes, I—um, I’m not yet used to having my grace at full capacity, and I may have been a little...overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed,” Dean breathes, almost laughing in disbelief, a slow smile on his lips.

Because Cas is an angel, an ancient celestial being with knowledge and powers beyond human understanding who’s seen the world and humanity from its first days and led countless armies of angels into battle and stood face-to-face with the underbelly of the universe.

And he’s overwhelmed by some dumb, emotionally constipated disaster of a human making a weak attempt at sharing his heart because he doesn’t know how to do it right.

Castiel smiles, something impossibly fond as the shock and uncertainty melt away, and he raises a hand to wrap around the one Dean has cupping his neck, running a thumb over the back of his hand.

“You think too loud, Dean.”

Dean’s almost too embarrassed to miss the way his voice shakes. Huffing out a short laugh, he moves in closer to Cas, still cradling his head and neck, and rests their foreheads together.

The air hums with electricity, and it’s like it’s coursing through Dean’s veins as a thrill runs through him. He bumps their noses together before pressing another kiss to Cas’s lips, this one slower, deeper.

The monitors behind them hum to life, readings lighting up the screens with a loud whirring.

Dean grins against his lips and pulls back with a chuckle, even more thrilled when Cas sways forward to follow him.

“I’m sorry, I—”

Dean cuts him off with another kiss. “Don’t be. We’re just gonna have to get you acclimated.”

“I think you’re right,” Cas said, already honing in on Dean’s mouth.

When Sam walks into the war room, flashlight in hand, he only sighs and shakes his head as the two make out against the war room table.

As the days pass by, Castiel does eventually get a hold on his powers, accustomed to the way the grace thrums through him when Dean kisses him good morning and good night and hello and goodbye and everything in between. But there are the few occasions when Dean catches him off guard.

Like when they’re on a store run and Dean catches Cas watching a couple holding hands, his fingers twitching at his side. So he reaches over and laces their fingers together.

Cas startles, looking between Dean and their joined hands, a soft flush overtaking his face. The nearby display of TVs on the wall starts flickering, and Dean tugs Cas along before he causes any product damage.

One night they’re sitting in the Impala at a drive-in a couple hours away. The drive was long, but totally worth it in Dean’s opinion as he pops a handful of popcorn in his mouth, an angel in the passenger seat beside him, munching on their shared popcorn one piece at a time.

“That’s not medically accurate. He couldn’t have survived that,” Cas says during the final scene, holding a singular piece of popcorn just in front of his mouth. His frown turns contemplative. “Unless his partner has some sort of healing ability.”

“It’s not that kind of movie, babe,” Dean says through a mouthful of popcorn.

Cas nods and hums, something low and grim. “Then he should be dead.”

And in that moment, as a grin breaks across his face and a laugh bubbles up from his chest, it really hits Dean that he really loves this angel.

Because it’s just something so painfully Cas.

He sets the bowl of popcorn up on the dash and scoots over to close the space between them, taking Cas’s face in his hands and kissing him hard. Cas gives a surprised hum, but is quick to wrap his arms around him as Dean presses him into the door.

Dean draws back just enough to laugh out an I love you against his lips before diving back in. He feels Cas grin into the kiss as fingers tangle in his hair.

The light of the projector starts to flicker. Someone a few cars over complains.

Cas breaks away, his chest heaving against Dean’s as he turns his head to look outside. Dean takes the opening to press his lips to the angel’s neck.

Cas’s breath stutters and the lights with it. “Dean, the movie.”

Dean stops, lifting his head, only a little distracted by the way Castiel’s hand grips his shirt. “Do you wanna finish watching it?”

“No,” Cas says, a little rough, “No, I just—there are others trying to watch it, and I think...” He glances away as the lights flicker again. “I don’t want to ruin it for them.”

“Oh.” Dean peels himself off of the angel to squint over at the screen. “It’s pretty much over. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure.”

Cas smiles and pulls him back in.

The drive-in has to buy a generator.

— tag list (ask to be added or removed)

@ccstiel @dstiel @expectingtofly @galaxies-of-the-heart @galaxycastiel @good-things-do-happen-dean @mishha @rainbowscas @theangelwiththewormstache @van-dynex

#destiel #destiel ficlet #deancas fanfic #first kiss #fluff #15x18 coda #coda fic #sort of #spn fic #supernatural #emmawrites*#mine*#1k*

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scriptaed · 3 years

Text

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.”

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esamastation · 3 years

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Xerxes au snippet

The first official political overture the small desert nation of Xerxes makes towards Amestris in over fifty years is a year after the end of the Ishvalan Civil War. Though it is expected to concern the war, and the border between Amestris and Xerxes, or perhaps even Amestrian use of Alchemy in the war, is has nothing to do with the bloody conflict, or it's relation to Xerxes' famously pacifistic view on alchemy.

It is a simple, polite appeal to the Amestrian Government – an invitation for an Amestrian automail mechanic to join the Xerxesian court.

"Bit odd," Havoc mutters, after a copy of the letter has gone around the office a few times. "What do they need an automail mechanic for – isn't Xerxesian medical alchemy, like… world famous?"

"For given the value of fame, yes," Roy agrees, fingers crossed together and a thoughtful look on his face. "They say early Amestrian alchemists learned from Xerxesians. We still use a lot of their symbols in our alchemy – but if Xerxesian alchemists are world famous about anything these days, it's their reticence. No outsider has seen much about the way they go about things these days, if they even practice alchemy anymore."

Of course there are rumours, there are always rumours, and there's history – the great and wealthy kingdom of Xerxes, alchemically on top of the world and widely known for their wisdom and knowledge and the miracles they achieved… who reached too far, tried to achieve the power of gods, and got struck down by said gods for it. How accurate that is, no one knows, but it's known that some disaster hundreds of years ago devastated the kingdom, killed most of its people, and it never fully recovered. Now it's people can only barely scrape by, living in huts and caves and underground, and they don't treat with outsiders much beyond the absolutely necessary.

Beyond trade routes established to get Amestrian goods through Xerxes to Xing, there's never been much interest for Xerxes, except maybe for it's grand history and it's many ruins. It doesn't help that Xerxes, as far as anyone knows, has never really reached outside, keeping to its isolationist values – and since it has little to offer to other nations… no one reached back, either. As far as anyone knows, Xerxes hasn't advanced at all scientifically or technologically in the last hundred years.

Which makes the fact that they want specifically an automail mechanic, an craftsman of one of Amestris' most advanced technology, rather interesting, doesn't it?

"I hear they took a lot of Ishvalan refugees during the war," Fuery says – he's the one holding the letter, reading it through.

Roy hums grimly. There's that, though took in might be stretching it a bit. Xerxes didn't do much to protect its borders – there was no need, with a desert all around their kingdom. So, when Ishvalan refugees sought to escape the conflict and set out to the desert, there was nothing but the terrain itself to stop them. Who knows how many Ishvalans made it through the desert, on foot and probably hurt…

"Why'd they send this to our office?" Breda asks, casting a look at Roy.

"They sent it to Grumman who sent it to us," Roy sighs and leans back in his chair. "The Lieutenant General wants us to find a suitable mechanic and then escort them – along with the Fürher's greetings – to Xerxes. The mission isn't exactly time sensitive, but since we're in the East…"

There's probably many reasons it was thrown their way, really. Way to keep those uppity brats from East busy, easily justified with them being closest to the matter at hand. It also wasn't exactly vital as diplomatic missions go – but it was still a diplomatic mission to a foreign nation, which means that Roy would want to handle it himself instead of leaving it to any of his subordinates. Especially since it's to Xerxes – what Alchemist wouldn't give an arm and a leg for a glimpse at how Xerxesian alchemy is these days? So, it was expected that he'd go himself. Which would get him out of people's way for a while, and maybe open up a slot for someone else to be promoted to his place, depending how long it would take.

How annoying. Grumman can be one clever son of a bitch when he wants to be.

"Right," Roy says while his team exchanges looks. "I want a list of all automail mechanics of East on my desk by the end of the day – if you can figure out their feelings about Ishval and if they have any history with the Ishvalan Civil War, that'd be a plus. Get to work."

"Sir!" his team answers, and immediately get to it, Fuery and Fallman both heading out to probably check records, while Havoc fishes out a phone book and Breda gets the phone. Beside Roy, Hawkeye gives him a look.

"Should I start preparing for travel?" she asks mildly.

"If you please," Roy says, turning to his paperwork. "We'll take Breda with us."

"Understood."

Over the course of next two days, they list and investigate various automail shops in the east, Roy privately wincing at how many there are, and how many of them are less than a decade old. The Ishvalan Civil War had been a boon to the business, and a lot of mechanics from the south moved in to take advantage of the situation. Lots of new up and coming mechanics, cutting their teeth in on a lot of freshly traumatised soldiers.

It left a lot of them… unsuitable for a mission likely to involve Ishvalan refugees.

"Known for his Anti-Ishvalan sentiments," Breda says, crossing out another potential automail shop. "This one has a No Refugees sign on his shop front, which probably means the same thing. This one has a pretty high record of automail rejection syndrome. This one has had two patients die on the operation table…"

Roy rubs a hand over his forehead, already imagining having to reach for the Southern District to find someone sensible in Rush Valley, when Breda offers him a potential. "Rockbell Automail, in business for decades before the Ishvalan Conflict even began."

"Rockbell," Roy says, lifting his head. "Any relation to the two late Doctors Rockbell?"

"Yep. Son and daughter in law of Doctor Pinako Rockbell, the head mechanic of the shop," Breda says and lays the file on his desk. "Their daughter is currently an apprentice mechanic in the shop, too."

Roy grimaces at that, but accepts the file, leafing quickly through it. Old, well established shop, known for their skill and efficiency, with very high praise from a lot of former customers and no known record of either deaths on operation table, auto mail rejections, or any anti-Ishvalan sentiments. There is a slight issue of the head mechanic being an old woman and the only other mechanic being a young girl, but…

It's promising.

"Phone," Roy says, and Hawkeye quickly lifts it on his desk, turning it toward him so that he can dial easily.

"Rockbell Automail, Pinako Rockbell speaking," a woman's voice answers the phone promptly, her tone brisk.

"Doctor Rockbell, my name is Roy Mustang, I'm a Lieutenant Colonel from the East Area Headquarters – may I have a moment of your time?"

"Certainly," Doctor Rockbell answers, no noticeable change in her tone. "What can do for you, Lieutenant Colonel? Aside from automail, presumably."

"I am currently looking for a skilled automail mechanic to take part in a diplomatic mission, likely to involve Ishvalan refugees," Roy says. "Your shop came up as highly recommended."

"Hrm. What kind of diplomatic mission? Don't the military have their own automail mechanics?"

"There are some, but none in the Eastern Headquarters," Roy admits – probably because the East has such surplus of civilian mechanics these days. "And I'll be frank, the likely length of this mission makes it difficult to use any of our military mechanics. The mission is to Xerxes, and will likely take weeks, if not months."

"… Xerxes?" now the old woman's voice changes, growing a little incredulous.

"Yes, the Xerxes Royal Family sent the Amestrian government an appeal for a skilled automail mechanic to join their court, and I was tasked with the mission of finding one," Roy explains and leans back, turning to look out of the window while he talks. "You would be well compensated for your trouble, however long it would last."

"Is this… a permanent position? In Xerxes?" Still incredulous.

"We don't know as of yet, the treaties are yet to be drawn. You would naturally be part of the negotiations and your wishes and needs would be taken into account," Roy assures her. "I understand this is a bit much so suddenly, and I will hold it in no way against you if you refuse outright – though I am hoping that if that is the case, then perhaps you, as a well established mechanic, might be able to point me in the way of more suitable candidates…"

Honestly, with a shop as old and as well established as hers, Roy doubts very much she would take him up on the mission – she probably has a whole lot of regular clients and steady stream of income, and no need to move. But, it never hurts to ask.

The phone line is quiet for a moment as the old mechanic thinks. "I need to talk with my apprentice for a moment, can I call you back in, say, two hours?"

"Certainly," Roy agrees, and gives her his office number. "We'll be looking forward to your call."

"Right – one more thing. You said it's likely to involve Ishvalan refugees," Doctor Rockbell says. "How'd you mean?"

"We don't know for sure, the appeal didn't explain the need for a mechanic. But during the Ishvalan Civil War, many Ishvalan refugees fled to Xerxes. So we thought it safe to assume the two are connected."

"Ah," the mechanic says knowingly. "And they put a State Alchemist in charge of finding a solution."

Roy swallows. Ah. She knows about him. It's not entirely surprising, but… "They did indeed," is all he says. There's no real explanation he can give, no excuse. It is what it is."

"Hm," Doctor Rockbell answers, noncommittal. "I will call back in two hours."

And she does, accepting the mission with two conditions. The military would help her pack up her entire shop and all the materials and tools would be transported with them – which was understandable, even if it tripled the estimated convoy size. The other condition was that she was taking her eleven year old apprentice with her. Both conditions Roy readily agreed to, tasking Havoc and Fallman with her packing while the rest of the team arranged the convoy.

"Guess we're going to Xerxes then. We're going to need a lot of camels," Breda muses.

"Yes," Roy agrees and sighs. It would be a hard journey and probably a hard mission, and likely one for very little gain in the end. Still. Xerxes. His alchemy master would've killed for the opportunity. Might as well take full advantage of it, and learn whatever he can, even if it's only from broken murals on ancient ruins.

Hmm... not sure I’m getting Mustang’s voice right.

Edit: Also tumblr eats italics for breakfast apparently.

#fanfiction #fma #fullmetal alchemist #au #roy mustang #pinako rockbell #etc

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eponymous-rose · 3 years

Text

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E123 (Feb. 2, 2021)

After last week’s thoroughly relaxing and brief episode, tonight’s guests are Sam Riegel and Liam O’Brien!

Brian, to Sam: “You look like Tim Curry moved to Nantucket to become a sommelier.”

How did Caleb and Veth approach the ally-ship with the Tombtakers? Sam: “I mean, we got some information, and I think we got a little closer to Lucien and knowing whether he has any of Mollymauk inside of him, which is I think the most important knowledge that we’re seeking right now. Is there someone to be saved inside there? We got glimpses, and we got a little hint that Mollymauk is maybe still in there? Maybe? And we got a little more insight into their plans, so that was useful.” Liam: “We know why we were having that fucking dream.” Sam: “But other than that, it was just a road trip with assholes.” Liam: “All our plans have been ripped in a new direction, and it’s just been improvisation.” Sam notes that it feels like we’re always about to rip into Caleb’s backstory, but haven’t yet followed that thread all the way through. Liam: “It’s partially frustrating, to be sure, but also I like the idea that-- his whole shit has been selfish, it’s been dealing with the trauma that he’s been through and not the greater world, and that’s been shifting somewhat.”

Does Caleb think the book was worth it, and is he still interested in reading more? Sam: “How do you ask Caleb not to read a book?” Liam: “Caleb has spent enough time with the Nein to know you shouldn’t put a hand on a hot stove. After what happened with the book, he knows it’s a terrible idea. But maybe. But it’s a really bad idea. But reserve judgment, but it’s a really terrible idea. I think that Caleb is very aware that mages and people like him very easily fall prey to their curiosity and it can lead to bad places. But there is still that amount of scientific endeavor where you think there is value in knowing and learning, and maybe we can ride that line. He was True Neutral at the start of the campaign, and maybe he’s Chaotic Good now, but part of him is hubris, even if it’s a little bit, still.”

What about Otis has drawn Veth’s focus? Sam: “I mean, he’s a little shit. She was curious about Otis because he’s a small like she is, and in talking to him, he seemed to be real creepy, but he was just creepy and distant and didn’t value his past or family or anything like that. She sees someone who’s like her, but so not like her, and maybe that scares her a little bit more.”

How does Caleb feel about Beau being on this ride with him? Liam: “The dream is another example of how Caleb had very narrow vision of the things he wanted to do. It used to seem so massive to him, but now... To have Beauregard involved feels right. If anyone in the group is going to stop him from grabbing something he shouldn’t, it is probably Beauregard. She’ll punch him in the fucking face to stop him, which I think he needs, to a certain extent. They’re two different kinds of nerds, and I kind of like that, that this group of nine philosophers, they’ve reached out and somehow grabbed the two nerds in the party.”

How do Caleb and Veth see the Somnovum? Sam: “I mean, they seem real bad. Anything that’s a quorum of powerful entities heading towards your planet to unleash an energy of any kind, typically bad? I assume they’re bad, or at least the Tombtakers wish them to do ill.” Liam: “I think they want the kind of peace that comes from snapping your fingers and turning people to dust. Caleb sees them as a cautionary tale; they’re the worst-case scenario for arcane inquisitiveness.” He sees Allura Vysoren as the antidote to that.

Why the staunch refusal to use Halfling Luck? Sam: “I don’t like Luck! I just don’t like Luck. I think it’s cheap, I think it’s a cheat, I think it’s stupid. It just feels like a do-over.” Liam: “I am your antithesis! If I ever voice a halfling, I am going to hammer that feature!” Sam: “What I love about D&D is that you don’t know what’s going to happen. If you roll bad, okay, that’s it. If you roll well, it makes the success more enjoyable to know that it’s a pure success and don’t one where you’re like well actually... it’s so stupid. If someone was about to die, I would probably use the fuckin’ Luck feature. Well. It depends who. If it was Travis, yeah, no, he’s fucked, sorry.”

Liam drops that he’s picked Sam’s character class and race again for a hypothetical campaign three. Sam: “It’s not what I was thinking for future characters, but I’m excited to explore.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Mollymauk by KatofValkyrie!

What was it like to bring the Tombtakers into the tower? Liam: “It is complicated, because he does not like him. Lucien’s just a fucking dick. But Caleb also knows that Molly’s in there somewhere. That tower’s only for the M9, and Lucien’s not in the M9. Their situation with these people is shitty, it’s terrible. Caleb doesn’t feel like they have the upper hand. He doesn’t like that they’re even going on this journey per se, because life is bigger than his bullshit. He feels like they’ve been losing over and over again, so it was a gamble to try to get on equal footing.

What spurred Veth into making sure she and Yasha have some one-on-one time? Sam: “Yasha hasn’t been getting a lot of moments to shine. Now that she’s back, I just got the impression that Yasha feels out of place sometimes, or timid, or unsure of herself. When Veth was Nott, Nott certainly had her share of those moments. I think she sees a kindred spirit and wants to make sure that she’s been giving all the opportunity she can to flourish and thrive. Dani, you’re just laughing at my mustache, aren’t you?” Dani: “Yes, that’s the only thing I’m laughing at through this whole bullshit.” Sam denies all knowledge of trolling, but eventually admits, on the topic of Yasha and Beau getting together: “They’ve made me wait this long... I’m going to make them wait a little bit longer!”

What was it like to show his friends the upper floors? Liam: “I kinda expected somebody to sneak up there before that. That being part of the tower is not even a conscious choice of his, it just is. The reason Caduceus has creeped Caleb out for a long time is because he talks about how-- Caduceus is a really kind person and wants Caleb to let go of the past. And in a really simplistic way, turn that frown upside-down. And that’s just not who Caleb is, and it’s not who everybody is. There is something to be said for trying to stay open and positivity, but thinking you can shut out the past, especially a traumatic one, is just not true. When things happen to us, we carry them. But to candy-coat it and say, ah, I’m free, or everything is good, or I’ve turned the corner... life is way messier than that. It’s not flipping a switch, it’s not bad-to-good, it is such a work in progress. Even when you make strides and start to get to a better place, you can backslide a lot. So the tower is who he is, and the tower is 7/9ths love for his friends, and 1/9th hope, but there’s still a percentage of him that carries everything from the past, and knows that he should, and knows that he should not go back to where he was. And the way to do that is not to say everything is rainbows, but to remember it. The tower is just like an extension of who he is. He’s never going to forget the past, and he’s never going to be like, I’m good, or I’ve turned a corner. He should remember the past, and he should do better, always.”

Does Veth still believe it’s possible to get Molly back? Sam: “Well, she was a person trapped in another body for many years, so has some experience there, and definitely believes that the spirit and soul of Molly is in there and just needs to be unlocked somehow.”

Fan Art of the Week: an amazing group shot by HarpySN!

How are Caleb and Veth dealing with their guilt and fear about being in the middle of this? Sam: “It definitely was a deep conversation that might have repercussions going forward. The problem with all of what we’re doing now is that we don’t have time to deal with our petty problems anymore. It’s all high tension all the time!” Liam: “It’s true; they’re not in control of their situation at all anymore.” Sam: “It’s good to have these check-ins, but it’s not like we can do anything about them. We’re reactive right now.” Liam: “He’s not happy with where they are, but they wouldn’t even be this far if the goblin hadn’t pulled him out of the mud. So part of it is, you saved me from where I was and got me on my feet again, and now it’s disconcerting to see it all just get knocked sideways by something he never could’ve predicted. I think Caleb felt nostalgic for when things were simpler, in a way, for them, when we’re both troubled drifters.”

What was it like to see Gelidon’s return? Liam: “I am the least superstitious person at the table. Ashley’s dice suck.” Sam: “It was fun fighting a dragon!” Liam: “Two massive battles in one episode, neither of which came away with a victory. I guess surviving is a victory.” Sam: “I’d forgotten about the dragon, honestly.” Liam: “I loved it. I was so upset at the idea that we were going to stealth and not get into it.”Sam: “Mercer doesn’t keep a live dragon around and not do something with it. That dragon’s coming back.”

How do Caleb and Veth feel about going to see Essek? Sam: “He can be very helpful, I believe, but as Sam Riegel, a player of D&D, I’m super suspicious. What the fuck is Essek doing up there, so close, now? I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. And I can throw him pretty far because he floats.” Liam: “I 100% agree with you. I do not understand what Essek could bring to what we are going through. I know the audience loves him, I love him too. He’s a really cool character. But he’s fucking toxic. He out of curiosity caused a war between two nations. And Caleb has been changed for the good by the M9 from months of travel with them. Essek has had none of that. Caleb has changed for the good, but not because of people like Essek. Essek is where Caleb came from. We kept the lid on the pot during the whole treaty at sea and it almost all went fucking sideways, and only because we pressed him into a corner. I hope that guy finds some sort of balance and peace for himself, but I do not see how his input here would be helpful. There’s other heavy hitters that I would try to pull in.”

Liam notes that the Cloven Crystal is in the Bag of Holding. Sam: “Do I have Fluffernutter, or is Fluffernutter gone?” Liam: “Nope. 300 pounds of fireworks? Gone. A dead mage, a threshold crest, and fireworks.” Dani: “Your basic essentials.”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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dragon-of-dreams · 3 years

Text

A Debt to pay

My Masterlist

Pairing: dark!mafia!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: noncon; breading kink; threats, murder, readers parents are dead, reader getting hit across the face, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Seariously, this is some really dark shit with some astonishingly soft sx... No idea how that happened... 18+!!!

No mentions of y/n, and reader is kinda an off because she has a back-story but no physical descriptors are used.

Summary: Your dad dies unexpectedly and you take over running the family cafè. The costs for your daddy’s funeral bring the head of the Barnes family to your doorstep as you struggle to keep up with the payments for a loan you had no idea your dad had taken out with them. You get “offered” an alternative method of payment.

a/n: this was a request by the lovely @oneoftheprettynerds

I hope I did it justice! Thank you for being the most patient person in the world, when Covid, life, exams, life and so on and so forth got in the way of your wish!

Prompt: Can I please get a dark mafia bucky or peter with noncon and breeding kink? With a side of people hitting on reader

Wordcount: 2,800

In all seriousness, you had to consider yourself lucky. Most people in this small city had it worse than you. Most didn’t have their own business, certainly not at your age, and most would never have enough money to even dream about that. Your town had the habit of sucking money out of people faster than they could make it and as of late that was also the case for you.

After your dad had died unexpectedly in a car crash, money had been tight, really tight. You’d never known how fucking expensive funerals were and his drained all the savings you had, just before you’d managed to scrambled together enough for a community college education in business. Now you were left an orphan in your early twenties running a café on only the knowledge you’d learnt from your dad with no prospects of an education. Now you were as stuck as everybody else in town.

What made matters even worse was the bill you’d gotten two weeks after the funeral. A bill from the one company in town nobody wanted one from. Rich men running successful businesses on the backs of the honest town’s people by draining their money. The mafia. Sharks in suits.

According to the bill your dad had borrowed money from them 10 years ago. Your best guess was that he had needed it for your mother’s funeral and had never told you. Be that how it may, you didn’t know how to pay that bill. So you asked for time and put in extra hours, keeping the café open til late at night.

You hated the extra hours. Not only because you got less sleep and had to work so much more and couldn’t afford to hire more employees but also because the later it got the more aggressively people hit on you.

You hated them. All those men coming in once the sun set, calling you their sweetheart like you were property and grabbing at you and you having to smile and flirt because you needed their tips. Desperately. And yet it seemed to make no difference. There was just no money to be made in this town.

Bucky Barnes, the head of the Romanov family had given you two months to come up with the next payment, and you knew that you’d end up dead in a ditch with them ceasing your café if you didn’t make it.

So you smiled and joked with the moms coming in in the mornings and afternoons and flirted and swayed for their husbands at night. When you were in your little apartment above the café after you finally closed you usually cried yourself to sleep. And all throughout the day you would see him. See Bucky fucking Barnes watching you. At first you thought you were imagining it, but he was driving past your café in way too regular intevals, and would even occasionally take up one of your tables. You always sent other staff to serve him, you couldn’t bare to go to him, but his cold blue eyes never left you.

Over those two month it became abundantly clear that you would never manage to come up with $2,000. And when one of Bucky’s men came in on the Wednesday before the Friday the payment was due, you thought of the 1,200 bucks you’d managed and wanted to cry.

You knew the man, you’d gone to school with his younger brother Peter who had been a royal pain in your ass, having provided a glimpse of the harassment by the men you now faced every evening. Still you smiled at him: “Steve, hi, what can I get you?” ignoring that you had already flipped your sign to closed and where moping the floors.

“Hi y/n, a coffee would be great, if you still got some” Steve answered while inspecting your café like he already owned the place.

“Sure thing!” You tried to sound chipper, but the strain in you voice was audible, as you went behind the counter and got the machine going.

“Sugar? Milk?” you asked, with your back turned to Steve, hoping to draw out the inevitable.

“Just sugar, thanks.” Steve sounded gruff and distant and you knew you’d lost. He probably already knew that you wouldn’t be able to pay. He had accompanied Bucky a bunch of times, never ordered anything, just watched and listened, as Bucky drank or ate. The men had attracted stares. Not only because they were mafia, but because for personified devils, they sure looked like gods.

As you set his coffee before him he asked: “So what can I tell my boss to expect on Friday?” You stared at Steve in his perfectly tailored suit in harsh contrast to the homey but ultimately grimy café surrounding him as you decided on what to say. He looked amazing, and you hated him for it.

Steve raised an eyebrow at you. He was getting impatient. “I… I have a little over half.” You muttered and looked down at your hands, twisted tightly together. “My daddy’s funeral cost so much money, and I” you were interrupted by Steve’s fist hitting the countertop, making you flinch. His rage was pouring out of him so suddenly, taking over everything else. He seethed: “Safe your excuses, little girl. Just make sure to get the money. Bucky isn’t as lenient as I am.” With that, Steve got up from the bar, drained his coffee in one long gulp and left without giving you the chance to beg. You would have. You would do anything now if it meant saving your life. ‘Lenient’, you thought. How was any of this lenient?

On Friday morning, you didn’t want to get up, much less open the café, but you did both. You put a notice outside that you would close earlier tonight, so Barnes and his henchmen wouldn’t scare off your customers and then you went to work.

The entire day felt like molasses. Time didn’t move at all, it left you fidgety and nervous. You screwed up more orders than you were willing to admit and then suddenly time jumped and it was 6 p.m. and the sun was setting and you’d closed the café down, pulled all curtains closed except for the front door and were sitting there, waiting. What for, you didn’t know.

At 6:30 a black limousine came to a stop before your café and Barnes and Peter got out. Which you decided was a good sign. Surley if they were to kill you, they would’ve brought some muscle, not lanky Peter… Bucky Barnes wouldn’t get his hands dirty with you, would he? Or was that what Peter was for? Did he still have to prove himself in the company?

As Bucky entered you wished it would just end now. To your sheer horror, Peter stayed outside, blocking the door, leaving you all alone with the man you feared most in this world. He looked just like everytime he’d previously entered your café. His suit fit perfectly and you could see the muscle beneath. He was astonishingly beautiful. If he only were so on the inside as well, you mused.

“Hi sweetheart,” Bucky drawled as he approached you, “Steve told me you don’t have my money.” You shrunk in on yourself, but nodded, as Bucky came to tower over you.

“That’s not good, angel, not at all. Why don’t you come out from behind the counter and we sit down and talk about it, huh?”

All you could do was nod. “What happened? Cat got your tongue?” Bucky teased as he grabbed you by the elbow and led you to a boot in the corner of the café, way out of view from the front door. His touch was startingly kind. You had prepared for pain, but were met with kind support. Your brow furrowed.

“I…” You looked up at him. “I g got $1,300. I know that’s not enough, but”

“Shh.” Bucky murmured and pushed you down onto the bench, took of his suit jacket, hung it carefully over a nearby chair and then caged you in by sitting at your side. You were trapped and you were shaking with fear.

Bucky was so much taller than you and even through his perfectly tailored black dressshirt you could see his muscles bulging. You couldn’t decide weather you wanted to start sobbing into his chest or punch him in the stomach. “Steve already told me all about that, angel, don’t worry, I already came up with a new payment plan.”

“You’re not mad?” you question, to terrified to be hopeful.

“Well, I am not thrilled, but I’ve always had a softspot for this place. My pa used to take me when I was little. I watched you grow up, you know?”

Hope bloomed like desert rose in your heart. He knew you! He had a connection to you! That surely meant he wouldn’t kill you. You’d figure out the money. Suddenly you were certain that you could do it.

“really? That’s – I never knew…” Your voice was fluttering with hope.

“Well, it’s a small town.” Bucky’s voice was calm and soothing. You almost forgot that you were squished between him and the wall.

“And with me seeing you grow up, and seeing all the other women in town I decided that you would give me an heir to take here. To watch people with, so he too could choose his wife. An heir for me and forgiveness for your debt and a happy home life for you.” Your world stopped spinning. It screeched to a halt.

“What? No, Bucky, I…” Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulled you close. The arm was tight across you back and stole your words from you as fear spread from every spot he touched throughout your entire body.

“You’re a hard worker, you have a drive for better and higher things. I like that. It’ll make you a diligant mother, you know angel? And that is what I need. A good mother to the boy who will inherit this town, don’t you agree?”

You sit there frozen, unable to reply. Your brain is going a thousand miles an hour trying to find a way, any way, to get away, but before you can do anything Bucky grabs your right hand and presses it to his crotch. He’s hard. The calm demeanour falls off him suddenly as he growls: “Here is how this will go, angel,” he starts to move your hand up and down his crotch, “I will let go of your hand and you will undo my pants and get me ready and then I will have that little pussy of yours on this table. I mean it ain’t romantic, but once you are my little wife I’ll make up for that, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, press your eyes closed and feel him move his hand over the fine cotton of his suit and his hard length underneath, then you force yourself to nod. It’s a jerking, hurtful motion, but Bucky released you hand, as he leans back on the bench, spreading his legs, opening himself up to you.

You want to thrash out, but instead you shaking hands wander to his belt. “Go on, now. we ain’t got all night, darling.” You are tearing up, but do as you’re told. You lean slightly over him and undo his belt first, then his pants. His cock strains against his boxer briefs and you gulp. Bucky lifts his hips and you push his pants and underwear down.

His cock is beautiful. Long and thick and veined and you can’t help but press your thighs together at the sight. Bucky notices and smirks down at you. “Now that’s a good girl. Keep it up and I make sure you enjoy yourself!” he whispers in your ear as he guides your hands to his dick.

As you jerk him, you realize that you underestimated his size. Your fucked. Literally. There is no way you’re gonna enjoy this. Bucky shoves his left hand up your skirt suddenly and you freeze until he clears his throat and startles you back into action, while his fingers start exloring your sex.

“You know,” Bucky explains, “I find it helps ladies to go down on a guy before actually fucking. Gets them nice and ready, you know?” One of his fingers slides into your tight chanel, “But with you it seems we don’t need that. The sight of my cock alone made you cream. I knew there was something special about you!” He grins and removes his hand. “We might still have to work on your handjob skills though…” he muses, grips your hand and removes it form his dick, as he gets up.

You shrink back but he pulls you out after him. Finally, blessedly, your panic response sets in any you try to struggle, but Bucky’s hold on your arm tightens painfully and his left hand hits you across the face before you even see it coming and it makes your world spin. “Stop it, now!” Bucky barks at you and you freeze. Your feeble attempts forgotten as Bucky lifts you onto the table and rips your panties off. You start sobbing as he bends your right leg to your shoulder and situates himself.

“Sssh,” he cooes at you softly, “I’ll make it better, baby, just one moment.” His suddenly warm voice lulls you into a false sense of security as you stare into his deep blue eyes. They are bewitching you, and you only feel him push in when it’s too late.

He sheethes himself in one agonizingly long stroke. The pain breaks you out of your reverie, you arch your back and groan. It hurts! It hurts so much, and yet you want more, so much more. “Bucky!” you plead, you sob, you whine and once more there it is, the calm voice of the devil now owning your life, rolling in like the tide washing over you, calming you. “I know my sweet pet, I know, just relax now. Just breathe.” And you do. You can’t help yourself.

Bucky lets out a pained moan as you settle around him, and once your clenched eyes flutter back open, once your back comes back down from its painful arch, the god above you starts to move. Every drag and push is better than the last. He hits home every time. His dick lights up a pathway to your pleasure, with every sharp, hard, relentlessy painful thrust, in time with his pubic hair grinding against your clit. A particularly hard thrust shifts his cock so it hits your cervix and you scream with pain and pleasure. Your arms reach up, your hands burying themselves in his thick hair as Bucky leans in closer to you, bending you in half on that table, and nuzzles at your neck as he starts to hammer into you. Every thrust is pure bliss. You want to feel ashamed, you want to push him away, but all you can feel is the drag and glide of his cock, his pelvis against your clit, his tip hitting your cervix. You are on fire and the coil in your core is ready to explode. The intensity of Bucky’s thrusts never wavers, even as you feel him swell even further as his balls draw up and that tiny change breaks you, your orgasm explodes and you cry out in ecstatic pleasure, just as Bucky falters and shoots his cum in thick long strokes into you. His warmth joing yours as he lazily pumps to stop within you.

You only come back to yourself as Bucky pulls out slowly and you can feel your combined, cooling spend trickle down your legs. He eases your leg back down and kisses you softly as you start crying. “Ssh, darling, you’re alright. You’re done. Your debt is paid and you’ll be my wife in no time, the mother to my heir. You did so good, angel!” He coos sweet nothing at you until you can control your crying enough to speak.

“Bucky, I’m not on anything! What if it really takes?” you whimper, emerging from the fantasy he built up in your head.

“That is rather the point!” He snaps harshly. The calm voice gone as quickly as it emerged. You shiver as you realize the extent of what he said before. He really meant it all… Bucky pulls up his pants. “Pack up your things, lovely, tomorrow I’ll pick you up and you are moving in with me, so I can keep an eye on you!” With that Bucky pulls on his suit jacket and heads for the door, as you struggle to sit up, shaking and crying.

At the door Bucky looks back at you, his voice a lot calmer again: “I’m real happy about our new business arrangement as it ensures you will be staying with me, little girl. If only your daddy would have agreed to let me have you, his car wouldn’t have had to end up wrapped around a tree so your little college fund would go away. Sleep tight now, Mama, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#dark!Bucky Barnes #dark Bucky #dark!Bucky #Bucky x reader #dark!Bucky x reader #marvel #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #prompt #captain america #the winter soldier #cafe au

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Note

hi! ik sojourner's already ended but i have an(other?) idea in case u ever pick it up since i love ur albedo 😳😳 ok so

what abt a reader who is rlly excited abt alchemy, but they avoid talking abt it bc they start rambling and stuttering and stumbling over their words bc they're so excited? they get assigned/asked to go w/ albedo bc they're rlly good at alchemy too, but they end up fidgeting a lot, muttering and stopping just a few words in before their volume rises and giving short answers when w/ him bc they're afraid of rambling (since they do it to think better when alone, sometimes insulting and arguing w the objects when they don't get the expected result) & being seen as annoying or unprofessional?? i'd like to see how he reacts to these and what he'd think!! and how or when he discovers the reason reader is acting like that

it's kinda (a lot, rlly skowkskdk i always have ideas but never write them) specific, but i rlly like the idea!! i'd love to see what u do w/ it if u ever pick it up in the future :D hope you're staying hydrated and well🥺🥰 -🌌

What do you mean Sojourner's already ended, Sojourner is eternal, Sojourner is forever-

Kidding aside, this is too cute to pass up, even if it's quite a lot! Cute Albedo brainrot moments always please. It might be too much sometimes but I hope you enjoy my interpretation of it! Scenarios format! Starry night, oh I'm always hydrated, thank you and I hope you're well!

For the Record

Albedo working with a Reader that's highly enthusiastic about alchemy but insecure about rambling... (masterlist)

You dealt with Alchemy a year before the Kreideprinz entered Mondstadt, your attunement to the mystic arts baffling and intriguing you every time. During that period, you're not really sure of what art you're doing but in the end, you kept doing great that the people had acknowledged your talents.

Through your own effort and self-study even if unnamed, you managed to put your talent into this art of Alchemy and created discoveries regarding powders and mineral-focused ingredients. It was a shame there was no one to share it to, and when you talk to scholars/practitioners alike, you end up rambling so much to the point that on their end you barely make sense. Whether this was caused by your eaten words or lax and personalized vocabulary over the matter, you're not sure.

Their confused and judgmental stare haunts you, leaving you alone with your raging thoughts and overworking mind when you just want to learn and expand your discoveries to other people without driving them away. Your enthusiasm is great and all, but it's not enough to make others understand.

So when the Chalk Prince entered Mondstadt, blessing the city with his scholarly knowledge and boundless creations, he easily made a name for himself and in extension the city itself.

Before Sucrose and Timaeus, you were called upon by the Grand Master Varka to accompany Albedo and be his temporary assistant seeing as his field in the division is still quite new and you were the only other 'Alchemist' in town besides him. You're both giddy and nervous, like really, really nervous.

You've heard of Albedo and maybe a caught a glimpse or two, but you've never actually interacted enough to know exactly what he looks like or how he is as a person. All you know is that he's a very, very attractive person overall.

"Good-looking, carries this aura of wisdom around him, he's just really charming," were the words that rang through your mind as you pointedly watched your steps, following the carpets leading to Ordo Favonius' laboratory while Lisa's words rang through your head.

Is he really that kind of person? You've heard that he's quite stoic too, but if he's really that distracting, you're scared that it would be harder for you to focus and help out. Honestly how would you even deal with him when your fields of Alchemy are so different from each other?

You have no idea how long you've been thinking, standing in contemplation in front of the set of double doors that leads to the workshop with nothing but doubt in your mind. But upon realizing the teal gaze of another person silently waiting instead of wooden doors, you figured it was far too long.

"Ah, I'm sorry! I was in my head, I wasn't expecting you to-!" You flailed your hands around comically before abruptly stopping, noticing the now confused stare of Albedo of which are distracted by your hands. Clearing your throat, you extended a hand towards him to shake, trying to stare anywhere but his face. "I'm (Y/N), I'll be your assistant until you're well settled in the city. It's nice to meet you, Ma-"

His hand finds yours in a firm grip, a firm shake so sudden you bit your tongue back, "Albedo, Kreideprinz of the Art of Kemia, but just Albedo is fine, I'll be under your care."

Albedo finds it intriguing and surprisingly not that distracting whenever you talk to yourself or to the ingredients whenever you so much as feel the slightest frustration. "Ugh, this Zinc powder is so stubborn, clingy," you angrily mumbled under your breath as you washed off the blue powder that spilled at your hand, "So, so clingy." Since you're facing the sink, you couldn't see the way he was holding himself from laughing audibly at your amusing antics.

You seemed lively and open, is what Albedo thought when he first met you. But this observation soon shattered when he kept getting hanged upon your abrupt stops when delving into your field, something he was really irked about the first few times. Your art of Alchemy is much different from his and he's wishing that you'd clarify and expound all your learnings to him, but in the end, you somehow step back everytime your words became lengthy.

Are you hiding something? Did you not want him to learn the same arts as yours? If those were the case, he couldn't bring himself to ask a simple question such ad why. Every time it crosses his mind, it brings a purse of a pout to his lips and furrowed eyebrows.

Every response you gave always hints even tiny bits of trivias and tips he's never heard, Albedo always takes note of your spills that always cuts before reaching its climax. "-sorry, yes, this is activated charcoal Geo and Pyro slimes reaction." He lets out an audible sigh upon your retreat, your frustrated mind too occupied to notice.

"Please," his desperation drips in his word when he looks at you with eyes filled with raw emotion you'd never know he'd be able to pull off. Your tightly locked lips only pressed on further at his puppy eyes, "Please continue, I wish to know more about your Alchemy, if you would be so kind."

"It's not really- I'm not really the best at explaining it..." You're almost fidgeting, cheeks aching from tensing and warmth. But he regarded you with a blank stare, forcing you to fill the silence, "If I- If I start, my ramblings may not uhm they're not easy to comprehend... or something."

Albedo had been watching more than he'd like to admit, and he's come to relieved (yet still confused) realization that your treatment with him wasn't his alone. You always step back before things get lengthy, words then cutting short and concise with a steeled expression. Lips caught between teeth.

"I digress," his hand motions to yourself to emphasize his next clause. "As your field and sole practitioner of this art, like my own condition, your word of mouth is the best ground of knowledge."

If he was irritated, he's doing a very good job in hiding it. And even with the respectable yet close distance in between you still felt cornered. This is still your master and it's not professional to refuse a scholarly talk, "The electro crystals when charged... ionized? create sparks, while also producing the same result when smacking- mining!"

The scribbles of his pen against his clipboard as he nods in attention urges you on, realizing his focus and sincere interest on the topic, "So when you put the little tidbits or even powdered version in a beaker thingy, depending on the material, they interact with the spark. Honestly, I'm unsure yet how lethal it is but if you put the sparks under fire too, they make like those makeshift gunpowder as well as additional reactions such as-!"

The lilt and proceeding high pitch in your voice usually signifies the approach of your insecurity as well as the climax of your enthusiasm. At this point, you pull your hand up to shut your mouth forcefully, and when Albedo really detests the abrupt end of the conversation his hand would shoot forward to grasp your own.

He'd intertwine your fingers to distract, before urging you to continue with a challenging stare, as if daring you to use your other hand to pull that off again. This whole scene felt oddly scandalous, but oh boy does it send your mind into a bambling, overloaded mess. A heated head forces your lips open even if they sometimes come out in a jumbled string, he learns to decipher them.

The more you get used to or feel more comfortable, Albedo uses that fondness skillfully whenever he wants. "Can you tell me more about the scarlet chunks from Dragonspine?" He throws it so casually in the silence as you two work back to back in your stations, without a beat as your mind is partially preoccupied, you answered into a narrative of trivia. It almost feels like you're talking to the flames of the bunsen while you wait, but Albedo smiles at the now filled silence as he listens with divided attention.

He really likes your voice, and the word of wonders you bring along with you.

"For the record, I don't mind it at all," his breath hovers on your lips, cold and prickly, "Whatever comes out of these lips, I want to hear it all."

That last part eheh

Woah, this went long. Like reader babbling hahaha. I said I'm gonna speedrun, not freaking write this long smh

@zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop @tartuu @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @albaedhoe @xiaophilia @heisenwurst @childe-simp-exe

#genshin impact x reader #Albedo x Reader #exile.goblet #exile.flower #sojourner special #genshin impact #imagines #gender neutral #fluff #anon 🌌

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shelleysmary · 2 years

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#austenread22 / northanger abbey final thoughts

I read this one in two days, partly out of “oh my god my May book stack is still so tall and I only have 10 days left!!!!” anxiety, but also because I found it as delightful this time around as when I first read it.

Again, I was surprised by my ill recollection of certain points - I could have sworn we spent more time at Northanger Abbey than we ultimately did - but the overall effect was one of “*Heart eyes* Baby Jane!!” Northanger was her earliest novel, though posthumously published, and I loved getting a glimpse into her nascent writer’s mind, as well as finding ties to her later works and the reappearance of themes she would explore for the rest of her life.

My spoilery thoughts are given below, in case this is your first time reading it (and if it is, how I envy you!) (A/N: Gosh.... forgive the length. I annotated the hell out of my digital copy and basically dumped all of that here... BLESS THIS MESS):

Before this reread, I would have have told you I was an Elinor Dashwood and Anne Elliot. The latter has yet to be proven true or false, but so far I’ve admitted to myself that I can be very Marianne and that I understand Fanny Price on a deeply cellular level. (*Whispers* It’s the traaaaauma!) After reading this book, now, I can say with full conviction that I wish I was Catherine Morland.

Like Jane’s other heroines, she is raised by neglectful parents who do their best but simply don’t have the time to give her one-on-one attention. She is not ignorant - Mrs. Morland makes very sure of that at least - but she doesn’t know everything, and furthermore Catherine never pretends to know everything, to be gifted or knowledgable beyond that which she knows to be true. Her good nature is shared with us from the very first chapter as well as her tractability. She likes tumbling down hills and horsing around with her siblings, but when she grows up she learns to like nice gowns, arranging her hair, and dancing. She’s adaptable. A teenager growing into womanhood, trying to find her place in the world with no real experience except that which she gleans from sensational novels. What she does have is, as Stephanie Laurens puts it in an afterword for Signet Classics, “an enthusiasm for life found both in those who are youthful as well as those who remain young at heart.” Catherine Morland is both of these things. Even as a woman of later years, I can imagine her retaining some of her innocence and romantic ideals; they are a part of her, just as wit is part of Elizabeth. Experience may sand away the rougher edges of naivety in Catherine, teach her caution and restraint when jumping to conclusions, but I hope she reads spooky stories and discusses them with Henry ‘til her dying day.

I found many similarities to Fanny Price while reading Northanger. Like Fanny, Catherine is intrinsically honorable. “To be disgraced in the eye of the world, to wear the appearance of infamy while her heart is all purity, her actions all innocence, and the misconduct of another the true source of her debasement, is one of those circumstances which peculiarly belong to the heroine’s life, and her fortitude under it what particularly dignifies her character.” This is Jane’s voice revealing a device which she would use for the rest of her writing career, and she makes a point of saying, “Catherine had fortitude too.” She is not excluded from the list of heroines who endure ignominy for a fault not their own, although.... in this case, the ignominy is being seen partnerless at a dance because John Thorpe, to whom she was engaged, is too busy gambling or talking horses to attend to her. In the language of novels, this is a trial on par with being shipwrecked or losing all you own in a fire! Jane reminds us in various asides of how Catherine ought to behave - not being asked to dance; being asked to dance by the man you want, but having to decline him because of an unfortunate prior engagement with a man you don’t; not knowing anyone at a ball; making a social faux pas... these are grounds for fainting fits, insomnia, a complete loss of appetite, and the development of a fatal cough! On the one hand it’s funny. It’s meant to be funny, and Jane’s dry tone tells us so. But on the other we are reminded by Henry Tilney that a dance is a metaphor for marriage, and marriage is no joke in the Regency era. Catherine’s father is not poor, but having so many siblings, it is imperative for her to marry well, especially as an elder daughter. Nevertheless, Catherine never faints. She may have grown up on a steady diet of melodramatic heroines but Catherine is sensible. Her feelings don’t run away with her the way they do with Marianne, because unlike Marianne, Catherine’s feelings have never been indulged. Her judgment is sound. She bears her disappointments with a moderation that speak of maturity and good sense. She’s not always right - like any teenager, she makes mistakes and proves herself a little bit silly - but for the most part, she is guided by what is “simple and probable.”

How, then, does sensible Catherine get to the point of all but accusing a man of murdering his wife or keeping her prisoner in a forbidden wing of Northanger Abbey? The answer is..... she’s seventeen, and seventeen-year-olds are allowed to be idiots on occasion, even ones who are good natured and possessed of good sense. Like Emma Woodhouse, when Catherine wants to be convinced of something, she is. We see ample evidence of this during Volume I and her early acquaintance with the Thorpes. I say “early” while having a laugh because Catherine knows Isabella for all of a fortnight before they’re swearing eternal love and friendship. I’ll admit, these parts were a bit painful for me to read because I had friendships like these as a teenager, ones where all the red flags were ignored in favor of falling headfirst into a heady new best-friendship that could do nothing but burn out as dramatically as it first sparked. Hell, I’ve had friendships like that not too long ago! Which goes to show that 27 and 17 aren’t so different as we’re lead to believe. Catherine wants to believe Isabella. Before her, she had no female friends her own age, so she makes allowances and lets things slide... It’s really not a bad trait when you think about it. Like Fanny, she is open to forgiving and second chances. But in the case of Isabella Thorpe?? Cue the long sigh, she and her brother are walking red flags.

RE: Catherine, we are told “she had not been brought up to understand the propensities of a rattle, nor to know to how many idle assertions and impudent falsehoods the excess of vanity will lead.” While we see Isabella clearly double-dealing (there is one phrase I love that illustrates her perfectly, when she is taking her leave of Catherine after an excursion: “with smiles of most exquisite misery, and the laughing eye of utter despondency”), Catherine fools herself into disbelieving her eyes and misconstruing what she must know to be true. “There has to be an innocent explanation” is an oft-repeated sentiment because Catherine wants Isabella to have an innocent explanation. She doesn’t want to believe her best friend is capable of deceiving her beloved brother, to whom she has promised her love and fidelity. But Catherine owes no such loyalty to Isabella’s brother John. She is clear-eyed as to his inferior worth almost from the first - though she gives him an initial grace period by virtue of being family to Isabella, her opinion of him is solidified with every ill-timed deed and word. Stephanie Laurens calls John “the ultimate antithesis of a hero, a young man of no value whatever, not to his family and even less to society...” And in the sickest burn of all? “He has no redeeming features.” To wit, Catherine Morland wouldn’t be caught dead marrying him. No amount of flattery or connection to her best friend would induce her to make such a foolish decision, and she moderates her behavior to John so as to appear Civil, yet Not Interested.

Here we go back to the Fanny connection. Isabella claims that “Of all things in the world inconstancy is my aversion,” which we are meant to take as boy-oh-boy irony because we know Miss Thorpe is the very picture of inconstancy. Like Mary Crawford, she is artful and - why mince words? - deceitful, saying one thing and meaning another, keeping her options ruthlessly open by not keeping her word if it doesn’t suit her. This is in stark contrast to Catherine, and really all of the Morlands. In his letter to Catherine after his engagement to Isabella is broken, James writes about his “folly of too easily thinking his affection returned. Thank God! I am undeceived in time!” And when Mr. and Mrs. Morland first meet Henry, “His pleasing manners and good sense were self-evident recommendations; and having never heard evil of him, it was not their way to suppose any evil could be told.” It was not their way. Catherine acknowledges that, before she went to Bath, she was “free from the apprehension of evil as from the knowledge of it.” She may have filled her head with abductors and murderers and other nefarious types, but the novels she read hadn’t done away with her family’s influence or altered her nature. The Morlands are honest, straight-forward people. John is a cad, but he isn’t wrong when she says Catherine has “more good nature and all that, than anybody living, I believe.” He doesn’t appreciate her at all, neither does Isabella appreciate James, but they are upright in a way the Thorpe siblings will never understand, just as Fanny’s cousins and the Crawfords don’t understand her. Catherine refuses to tell falsehoods “even to please Isabella.” She is artless, allowing Miss Tilney to perceive her partiality for Henry almost from the very first meeting, and indeed she is so without ~feminine wiles~ that Henry himself perceives her interest and it is this open, undisguised liking that convinces him to pursue and even to endanger all to be with Catherine. Her open-heartedness wins her her desired intended, while hypocrisy costs Isabella hers. While Jane Austen knows the ins and outs of the cutthroat marriage mart - and even likes poking fun at it! - she is clear, even at this young age, that dishonesty is abhorrent. And while it is often rewarded in the real world, in the dream-world of her novels, she likes to punish it where she can.

However, by no means is honesty in the face of dishonesty easy to uphold. It wasn’t for Fanny, neither is it easy for Catherine Morland. She suffers a distressing episode when the Thorpes conspire to make her break an engagement with the Tilneys for the second time. “I could not do it,” she protests, even when her brother James, moved by his affection for Isabella, tries to pressure her into doing wrong. “Catherine felt herself to be in the right, and though pained by such tender, such flattering supplication, could not allow it to influence her.” Here, Catherine shows her mettle, despite her youth and experience. In another similar passage, she is described as “always distressed, but always steady,” and in describing the Morlands as a whole, the narrator says, “Their tempers were mild, but their principles were steady.” Steadiness is the reverse of inconstancy. It endures bumps in the road but ultimately allows the one who develops it to come out, for the most part, unscathed and with their integrity intact. And because Catherine is also modest, she often looks to others for advice. “I always hoped you would tell me,” she scolds Mrs. Allen, “if you thought I was doing wrong.” I’ve seen criticisms that, like Mr. Knightley, Henry Tilney is an awful nag, and yes, he is, but both Emma and Catherine need correcting. It just so happens that the only ones who bother are their respective love interests. And Jane does not disapprove of this way of doing things. Remember that neither Catherine nor Emma enjoy a large society, and seeing as the only way for a woman to broaden her circle was through marriage, if she wanted to add to her family in both a literal and metaphorical sense, she had to marry. Husbands were companions and family heads, and both Emma and Catherine choose the ones who suit them best. There are others more charming, ones better at flattery and more indulgent, but they prove their good sense by choosing steadiness over hollow outward charm. An Austen heroine, you see, must prove herself in that regard, in not choosing the easy way but using her head to act wisely.

And really, Henry and Eleanor Tilney aren’t as exciting as the Thorpes. Henry is witty and an effortless flirt (flirting in a way that manages to toe the line of courtesy), but Catherine admits to being disappointed when she doesn’t feel the same spark of friendship she felt with Isabella when she first makes Eleanor’s acquaintance. “Not an observation was made, nor an expression used by either which had not been made and used some thousands of times before, under that roof, in every Bath season, yet the merit of their being spoken with simplicity and truth, and without personal conceit, might be something uncommon.” Catherine has to readjust, but her naivety does not preclude her from appreciating the simpler charm of a quiet, steadier friendship. Okay, so she’s partly motivated by the fact that she wants to get on with the sister of the man she has a massive crush on, and we as the audience are never not aware of this fact. Catherine desperately wants to impress Henry and his family! But she undertakes this with a seriousness, not allowing Isabella to alter her opinion of them, or John to sabotage her chances. Their relationship is built on conversation, on gradual trust - which isn’t very romantic, perhaps, but Catherine learns it’s more durable than what she had with the Thorpes.

It’s not like the Tilneys are a giant snooze-fest either. Alone at Northanger, they seem compatible and cheerful, and I only wish we’d gotten to know more about those days they spent at the Abbey without General Tilney storming about. Henry and Eleanor’s father is a party-pooper of the first order, even though Catherine was initially impressed by his manners and bearing. But his children seem afraid of him, their spark diminishes in his presence, and he fits right into our idea of the tyrannical father in a dilapidated country house - a vampire, almost, interested only in Catherine’s imagined fortune. (Doing Dracula Daily, it was only too easy for me to compare him to the Count, whose grandiose gentleman’s airs hide the nefariousness underneath.) Because of Austen’s tone, we know very well that Northanger isn’t that sort of novel - ergo, we never lend any real credence to Catherine’s ideas that the general killed his wife, and I don’t think we’re meant to. Catherine’s evidence is always laced with enough ridiculousness to make it highly unlikely. For instance, when General Tilney refuses to walk down the gloomy path his wife once loved, Catherine takes it as a sign of his guilty conscience. “He did not love her walk: could he therefore have loved her?” And when he says he will not go to bed at the same time as his family, having political news and business to attend to, Catherine thinks that “to be kept up for hours, after the family were in bed, by stupid pamphlets was not very likely.” ................I mean. I—I have no words for how easy it is to make fun of Catherine for that. And there is, of course, the infamous scene of the cabinet. She works herself up to a tizzy trying to open a strange, hard-to-unlock cabinet in her room at the Abbey, only to accidentally blow out her candle in the process of trying to get the flame to shine bright enough to read the mysterious pages she finds hidden inside (I cackled because I’ve made that mistake myself), and when morning comes and she has enough light, she realizes she’s taken these great pains for.... bills and receipts. Catherine tells herself “she had ‘never from the first had the smallest idea of finding anything in any part of the cabinet, and was not in the least disappointed at her ill success...’” but we know the opposite is true. Catherine had expected to find something quite extraordinary, and she is disappointed again and again by how mundane Northanger Abbey is. Here, she “indulge[s] in...flattering suggestion,” good sense be damned, considering herself too “well-read” to be mistaken in the signs pointing to General Tilney’s guilt. “It had been all a voluntary, self-created delusion, each trifling circumstance receiving importance from an imagination resolved on alarm, and everything forced to bend to one purpose by a mind which, before she entered the abbey, had been craving to be frightened.” Let’s blame Henry for some of this: that story he told her in the carriage on the way to Northanger about Matilda and the cabinet so like the one Catherine finds in her room was just too good, and if she was craving to be frightened, why Henry just whetted her appetite in that regard! Stephanie Laurens points out that “both Catherine and the general allow themselves to be misled,” Catherine by her wild imagination nurtured by sensational novels - and can we blame her? A girl with little attention from her parents, no friends or varied society? Catherine has had to entertain herself all her life, so why shouldn’t we allow her to be a little silly and asinine and believe the worst of an abbey governed by a shady older man?

After all, he may not be a murderer, but who would ever want an intimate acquaintance with General Tilney? Even before her (erroneous) suspicions take root, Catherine acknowledges a “terror and dislike” of him, and we must admit that there is something palpably off about him, just as we sensed that the Thorpes were always less than honest. Isn’t that what terror in Gothic novels is all about? That sense of something, or someone, being Not Quite Right but having no proof? It’s just that, in the real world (most of the time), the Not Quite Right isn’t rooted in curses or ghosts but in our intuitions about people, the subtle cues that ring the alarm bells and tell us to keep them at a distance. General Tilney is no less awful for being awfully mundane. He’s not a murderer but he has no kindness - no disinterested kindness, at least. He allows himself to be misled by John Thorpe because when he sees Catherine he sees bank notes and a higher social standing, and it’s clear from his behavior and that of his children that he expects them to obey without question and to do as he says. While we can allow that the general may have loved his wife, we can’t imagine him treating her with any real tenderness, or with the lightheartedness with which Henry treats Catherine. His behavior towards the latter is always wrong, inexcusable and wrong, and culminating with the disregard of all common decency in throwing her out of the house without a servant or a single provision as to her safety. (She’s a seventeen-year-old girl! Traveling alone! And a great distance!)

We know that Catherine can endure with dignity, and she does, but even her mother notices that she’s downhearted. Her greatest regret is, of course, losing Henry, as well as Eleanor. She knows she has been wronged and can do nothing about it. But when Henry appears and makes things right with a marriage proposal, she lets bygones by bygones. This is the quality I most love about Catherine. She has her delusions but she is never wholly blind, and while she allows herself to feel the pain of indignities, she doesn’t harbor resentment. It isn’t her way. In this respect, her parents have done a wonderful job of teaching their children to roll with the punches, to have a balanced view of adversity and to admit their mistakes and begging pardon without sinking to self-loathing. After Henry confronts her for her “General Tilney is a Murderer” theory, she feels horrible for a time, but she allows her spirits to be “gradually raised to a modest tranquility. She did not learn either to forget or defend the past; but she learned to hope that it would never transpire farther, and that it might not cost her Henry’s regard.” We are also told that she is “completely awakened” and that “the visions of romance were over.” Like James, she has been undeceived, given a brisk reality check - and it’s clear they both need a good shaking! The source and also the flaw of the Morlands’ good nature is the parents’ complete incuriosity, at least in emotional matters. “They never once thought of her heart,” Jane says, and not once does Mrs. Morland ask questions or try to guess at the real root of Catherine’s unhappiness upon returning room. Like her parents, James and Catherine take people at face value, not understanding why they might say one thing and mean another, not mining their own feelings or observations unless prompted or forced to do so. Catherine, I would say, has the potential for more and I’d say it’s down to her love of reading, but her association with the Tilneys also helps. “You feel, as you always do, what is most to the credit of human nature. Such feelings ought to be investigated,” Henry says, “that they may know themselves.” And Catherine is eager to learn, eager to improve, to live the best life she can and in the most honest fashion. She has Fanny’s good intentions and Elizabeth’s high spirit; Emma’s need for adventure or at the very least of occupation, her imagination, her self-deception on occasion, but it’s never malicious. She wants to see the best in others, like Jane Bennet. She wants to be emotionally fulfilled like Marianne. And though her mother says she will make a poor housekeeper, I think that’s not giving Catherine Morland her due credit - she is not above asking for help, not too proud to follow someone else’s advice, and with Henry’s having managed his own living for a time and Eleanor her dear friend married before her, I see no reason to assume that Catherine won’t make a good clergyman’s wife. All she wants is experience, and back then, as now, the only way to get it is to live and make a few mistakes along the way.

As an added note, I’m sharing one of my absolute favorite lines of the entire book, found in Chapter 14, when Catherine is citing the reasons for why she hates reading history: “The quarrels of popes and kings, with wars and pestilences, in every page, the men all so good for nothing, and hardly any women at all—it is very tiresome.” As the kids say... a mood.

tagged: @appleinducedsleep, @kateschechterxthorwasmyfirstotp, @thatscarletflycatcher, @xserpx, @deliciousslimekidbonk

#austenread22 #northanger abbey #jane austen #book club

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helenazbmrskai · 3 years

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With Glass Between Us

This is the very first fic I’ve ever written that doesn’t contain a lot of dialogue (since Jungkook can’t speak in this one) and not sure how I feel about the story now that I finished it. I had a hard time picking the ending scene but hope it’s still enjoyable.

Title ‹ With Glass Between Us ›

Pairing ‹ Merman! Jungkook x Reader ›

Genre ‹ merman au, fantasy, implied romance, angst, fluff ›

Summary ‹ Pets are considered a man’s best friend. The middle class can only afford cats and dogs while rich people can get exotic species such as racoons or even lions. Your dad invests in a companion for you as well, don’t want his sweet daughter to feel lonely and comes home with a ..er merman? ›

Warning(s) ‹ semi described injury, blood, the ending is left open ›

Word count ‹ 6.6k ›

Masterlist

Something’s going to happen today, you can feel it in the air as you lay on your bed, gaze fixed on your ceiling.

Your dad has been working on the room next door for a little over a week now, the only information that you could get out of him is that it’s going to be a gift for you. He didn’t let you look at it, not before it’s finished. Only getting glimpses of the workers who would come early in the morning and leave after the sun has set.

You almost fall back into sleep when you hear a loud commotion coming from the room next door, you learn soon that instead, it’s coming from the corridor in front of said mystery door. Getting up you peek out from behind the doorway, catching the gruesome picture of a man holding his heavily bleeding arm to his chest.

It looks like someone bit out a chunk of his flesh with teeth sharp like a knife. Your father sees you before you could close the door and go back to your bed. Beckoning you to stand next to your father the bleeding man gets led away by another worker. The wound was still bleeding through the bandages before you lost sight of them.

Your attention lands on the door to your right next, that you’ve been staring at for a while but this time it’s open.

You see a big fish tank that covers half of the room’s expanse, the other half looks like an ordinary living room with a big flat screen tv and a maroon couch in front of it. You don’t get it at first why that big tank is installed until you see him.

It somehow looks scared, circling inside the water like a cornered animal you see that the water is slightly pink probably it’s the worker’s blood that got into the water and the sharp teeth that caused the injury belongs to the creature inside the fish tank.

You can’t seem to stop staring at him, his massive tail cuts through the water with ease, the tail itself has enough strength to push his full body weight forward as he swims around, his body is covered by indigo scales the sun reflects on the glass making the colour go from deep blue to purple if you’re looking at it in different angles.

”Where did you get him? Isn’t this illegal?” You voice your worries, the creature looks dangerous you keep your eyes on him even though it looks like he didn’t seem to realise you’re there yet.

The worker with the bloody arm could tell you about it, it didn’t look like a minor injury and knowing that his jaw possesses such power. You shouldn’t house a predator with the ability to bite your arm off without straining a muscle, you don’t know the full potential of what this mythical creature is capable of. What did your father think when he purchased him? Just like you don’t keep sharks as pets he would be better off living in his natural habitat.

”This is your gift. Aren’t you excited? You can be the first one to keep a merman as a pet I paid a lot of money for it.”

You don’t have it in you to show the same enthusiasm as your dad. A minute ago you didn’t even know mermen exist and now you suddenly own one. You have so many questions regarding the subject. What to bring him to eat? Is there anything he dislikes? What about his tank? You don’t have enough knowledge to care for him.

”What happens to him if you give him back?” You already have a conjecture about what will happen to the poor creature if you send him back. Someone else will buy him and he may not land in hands as considerate as you. He could end up inside a lab to be experimented on or inside someone else’s living room to show him off as an animal in the zoo. You don’t like either of those options.

”It took a lot of manpower to bring him here. Why don’t you give it a month and if you still don’t want him I can send him back.” It costs someone almost an entire arm. You decide to listen to your father’s coaxing words but you’re still worried that if that glass will hold. If he punches it with enough power to break it. Hell will break loose.

”Are you sure he’s harmless like this?” You feel uncomfortable just by looking at him. You’re afraid of him.

”Don’t worry sweetheart. The glass won’t break it’s designed to house a merman inside and if you don’t go too close to the surface while you feed him he’s mostly harmless.” Mostly. It’s a tricky word. Your father’s words carry the intention to make you feel relaxed. Calm down your racing heart that tries to break free from inside your ribcage, now that you know he’s mostly harmless.

When you look back at the tank you catch his dark eyes. He’s observing you, one hand is pressed against the glass his tail moves behind him to keep him in place at the bottom. There are rocks and a thin layer of moss inside the tank making it appear more of a goldfish aquarium with all those pretty aquatic plants.

You see stairs on the left side of it leading up to the top, the surface of the water is closed with an automatic mechanism. Your father gives you the remote controller so the diameter of the hole can be changed it’s for when you have to feed him he told you.

There’s a long rod with a hook on the end leaned against one of the cabinets at the far end of the room so you can give the creature a bucket of fish without getting too close to the water, there’s also a fridge inside to store the fish. Your father was thoughtful while designing the room you give him that.

As your father tours you around the room showing you where everything is kept the merman keeps following your figures swimming to the end of the glass where you’re heading until there’s no more room for him to follow, unfortunately with how wide the tank is he can see the whole room perfectly. You refrain from looking at him, his eyes scare you. You haven’t heard any noise from him either, you’re not sure if he can talk or not but he has been eerily silent this whole time preying on you and your father until you left.

You don’t want to visit him the next day but you’re the only one who can feed the creature, the staff is too terrified to come even close to the room and because of that they don’t come to your room either as it’s right next to his. You don’t mind that part too much, it means you can sleep in as no one comes to wake you up to have breakfast. It’s past twelve when you decide to go and fed the creature.

You use the rod and hook the bucket to the end of it it’s heavy for you to lift as the bucket is filled with fish to the brim, you have no idea how much he eats so you opt for giving him as much as you could.

You manage to dump everything into the water, the dead fish remains on the surface until a force – his hands – pulls them underwater one by one. The merman’s hand is very human-like slender fingers ending in sharp fingernails just like the upper half of him it resembles you in every way it’s only his indigo tail and slitted pupils that give away his true nature.

You keep feeding him every day, a week soon turns into two and you keep giving him fish leaving as soon as you’re done still avoiding eye contact and retreat into your room. He’s always silent, sometimes you hear the splash of water as he moves around inside the tank but his mouth remains closed every time you visit him.

You hear nothing when you’re laying on your bed late at night, only the water, you sometimes wonder if he hears you sing in the shower or when you’re mumbling to yourself about stuff to do. He still gives you the creeps but you get used to him.

It’s becoming a routine when you come every day around the same time to feed him, wondering if giving him food only once a day is enough, maybe you should feed him three times a day similar to how humans eat? You have no idea but who can blame you it’s your first time sheltering a mythical creature inside your house and it looks like he can’t communicate with you. Hard to define his needs when he offers no help to aid you.

You decide to watch him this time you sit down at the top, far away from the vent, the platform still stretches long before you can see the open water. He never comes up to the surface only pulling the fish in, you start to question if he can breathe above the water at all.

From this angle, you can only see a distorted image of what lies beneath catching the colour blue and pale skin you could easily see him if you moved lower on the staircase but you’re against the idea.

You still haven’t looked him in the eye after that time from the first day he was brought here by your father and your gaze barely connected for a few seconds. Feeling his stare you make sure that your back is facing the tank as you reach for the door. You decided that it was enough for one day.

The idea comes when you eat an apple as you try to reorganise your desk getting ready to start your study session, you look at it and then your thoughts take a turn and picture the merman.

It’s been a few weeks that you feed him the same fish every day, he eats them all but maybe he’s tired of eating fish? You know about yourself that if you eat the same thing all the time it gets boring after a while no matter how much you like that specific dish. You have a few more apples to spare maybe you should give it a try. Nodding your head you resume your work it’s still early for you to feed him.

It turns out merman doesn’t like fruits. He ate all the fish but left the apple untouched. The fruit gets tossed and turned around by the gentle waves the merman probably is the cause behind it his powerful tail stirs the calm flutters of the water.

With the help of the bucket, you get it out before it rots and contaminates the waters. Somewhat you feel sad that he didn’t eat it but can’t put your finger on why it bothers you it’s not like you’re worried about his health.

It’s easy for you to lift the bucket, it’s only half full you could do this with one hand. The merman started to eat less so you don’t fill it up anymore, maybe you were overfeeding him all this time and had enough of it.

You don’t think too long about this discovery until the quantity of the food he consumes appears to be less and less with each passing day. A troubled sigh slips out from between your lips when you see at least twelve fish laying on the surface untouched. Only ate half of what you dumped into the water and it wasn’t even that much to begin with and it’s not the first time either that he refused to eat.

Now you’re getting worried. This time around you don’t walk to the door as soon as you’re finished with storing the tools you use to feed him instead you get closer to the glass for the first time searching for the merman.

He lays on the rocks in the middle head turned to the mass of water above him not knowing that you’re watching him. You experimentally tap on the glass that earns his attention his eyes widen when he sees your gaze on him his body jolts up immediately swimming closer but you step away in fear. The merman stops when he sees your retreating form it almost looks like his shoulders are hunching forward and his eyes.

It’s different from the first time when you met his eyes it doesn’t have that predatory glint in them, no, the emotion you see is very different from it. The creature looks lonely, his eyes are sad when he watches you from a distance.

You know nothing about his species so you didn’t know they can get lonely too. It’s your mistake that you didn’t try harder to understand him letting your fear rule out the curiosity in you. After he was bought by your father and placed under your care you didn’t bother to look at him, speak to him, the only interaction you had was when you fed him and you left always immediately.

Maybe you should give him a name to feel closer to him, you obviously need to get over your fear to be in the same room as him without the gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach that screams you’re in danger every time you sense his eyes on you.

You place your palm on the glass, it’s cold to the touch but you keep it there thinking carefully what name would fit him the best until you settle with one.

”Jungkook, come here.” You call him for the first time, you like how his name sounds spoken out loud you keep smiling so you can show him that he can trust you. Even though he can’t understand you, you keep calling for him.

It takes a while and a bit more encouraging for Jungkook to start swimming again taking cautious laps in your direction. He surprises you when he places his palm against the exact spot that your hand is against the glass.

Your first reaction is to pull away but you force your body to keep still, you don’t want to hurt his feelings again, you can still remember it vividly when he happily swam towards you and how downcast his expression seemed when you stepped back before he could reach you. Never considered before how he might feel when you keep coming into this room just to leave without looking at him even once.

You would probably feel lonely too. He’s not smiling but it’s the closest that you’ve ever seen him to it. Pointing up you want to tell him to finish eating but he doesn’t seem to understand your sign. Jungkook looks sad when you retreat your hand, you have to tell him somehow that he should eat. Fortunately, he follows you as you climb the stairs he swims next to you until his head almost hits the platform.

Getting a new idea you get a fish from the basket and hold it up to your mouth acting like you bite into it and then point at the remaining fish that still sways on the surface rocked by the gentle waves. It looks like he understands you this time but he doesn’t move an inch from your side to do as he was told, he keeps looking at you and then at the door.

You think he associates his feeding process with you leaving immediately after that’s why he doesn’t want to eat so that you would stay. The realisation dawns upon you that this might have been his goal all along for not eating – to get you to stay.

”I won’t leave. Go eat, I’ll be here watching you.” You tell him but you know he doesn’t understand a single word you say – but you still have to try – maybe he can’t make sense of your words but you hope that your feelings can be somehow conveyed through them. Your last attempt to get him to eat is to sit down, you remember you stayed longer that one time when you watched the water from above, you were sitting just like this. Jungkook’s memory must be pretty good as he seems to understand it.

He swims in the direction of the fishes but keeps looking back where you sit to make sure you’re not leaving.

You look around the room while he demolishes the remains of his supper finding his eating habits grotesque as he bites the fishes in half with his razor-sharp teeth before chewing them, it’s messy and blood gets everywhere.

You’re content when it looks like he ate everything. He swims back where you sit placing his hand on the glass mirroring your previous actions. Don’t want to deny him and make him sad again you place yours on top of his separated by the transparent glass but the sentiment is not lost on you because of it, it’s the first step of getting to know each other. Maybe Jungkook is more than what meets the eyes for the first time.

It’s the longest you’ve ever stayed inside his room it’s nighttime when you say goodbye and start your night routine. He didn’t look too happy when you left but you’re certainly not ready to sleep in the same room as him. You take your time under the shower thinking about the merman.

Your heart feels less heavy when you open the door the next day, it looks like you interrupted his sleep as you accidentally drop the DVD that you carried, you thought that maybe it would be nice to watch a movie with him, there’s a DVD player in the room ready to be used by someone and the tv is big enough to let him see it – his vision is probably better than yours anyway – but you can pull it closer to the tank as well or get your laptop if none of that for some reason works.

”Jungkook. Good morning, sorry to wake you up but it’s time to eat and I brought something that you might like but first you have to eat all the fish or I won’t show it to you.” You shake the object in front of him just to emphasise your statement, the other day it seemed to you that he can sense the emotions and respond to them rather than reacting to your words alone. Jungkook is an intelligent creature, you know that without him telling you. You only have to find a way to communicate with him without words.

You can tell that he senses some of your uneasiness but your fear won’t vanish after one pleasant encounter, he’s still a predator no matter how he tries to appear in sheep’s clothing in front of you.

Be that as it may, you wouldn’t be here with a movie in your hand if you weren’t willing to try though.

You give him more fish than yesterday hopeful that he will start eating like before now that you’re willing to spend some time with him and as you finish loading the food into the water you sit down waiting for him at the foot of the stairs. You busy yourself while you wait with setting everything up for the movie, you manage to drag the tv closer without making it fall face-first onto the floor so that’s good.

Jungkook watches you with interest as you insert the movie into the player, you have to observe his reactions more so you can understand his body language better but the simple emotions on his face are easy to detect even now. You sit down on the floor next to the tank getting a pillow from the couch so you can get comfortable.

Halfway through the movie, you decide to rest your back against the cold glass you can’t really concentrate on the plot as you’re hyper-aware of your skin touching the tank’s side, occasionally you glance in Jungkook’s direction so you can see what he’s doing.

Surprisingly enough, the moving pictures completely captured his attention. His torso is laying flat on the moss with his blue tail curled at the ends Jungkook keeps his upper body propped up with his elbows both planted onto the bottom of the tank his face inches away from the glass like he doesn’t want to miss anything that plays on the tv. You can almost call him cute with his big dark eyes.

You suddenly remember that you didn’t check if he ate all the fish but pleased to see when you look up that there are no leftovers. Maybe you can try feeding him fruits or other healthy nutritions besides seafood to change up his diet, now that you can somehow communicate with him. There’s a high possibility that he left it there last time because he didn’t know it was edible.

The next time you throw in two apples next to his normal food just as you expected, he left the apples again. As he’s done consuming a large amount of his meal Jungkook swims to where you stand on the stairs. You step lower so you can see through the water without any distorting effect.

The merman places a hand on the glass waiting for you to place yours right on top. The gesture soon became a habit of his as of late after you showed him. Used to this tiny ritual you go through with him every day you place your palm against his as you smile but it’s the first time that he smiles back.

His teeth are sharp and you see the remains of the fish caught between them. The sight should be terrifying and maybe a few weeks prior you would have turned away with disgust but now you just keep smiling.

After you gave him a real name and started talking to him, he significantly grew on you. Maybe it’s because now he feels more real, you acknowledge him and think about him when you’re apart. Nowadays you find yourself opening the door without having second thoughts or hesitation and even start to neglect your studies to keep Jungkook company. He likes watching movies with you even though you’re not sure how much exactly does he understands from them.

He’s very intelligent and learns fast as he keeps picking up on your gestures sometimes understanding what you want from him immediately. Jungkook learns that when you raise your hand and pretend to bite something you hold up it means it’s time for him to eat, now he eats everything you drop into the water and doesn’t look like he dislikes the fruits you give him next to his meals.

Jungkook is really good at distinguishing your different moods, your suspicion that he has a natural talent in sensing emotions gets answered when he tries to turn in a full circle with his face touching his tail inside the tank like a seal would do while entertaining the visitors at shows you saw a few times before, inside the zoo, there was a scene like that in one of the movies that you watched together, you realise.

Funnily enough, he makes you laugh as he gets tangled in seaweed the next second but easily frees himself by cutting the greens with his long nails.

You don’t know if it’s a merman thing or not but you guess that the reason behind it is because he can’t speak so he’s better at communicating with his eyes and gestures. After all, emotions are expressed not told.

It’s easy to forget that he can be dangerous as he keeps acting like your puppy, most times he wants you to touch the glass where his hands are while watching movies almost like an equivalent to holding hands just with a barrier in between. You caught him one time pushing his face into the glass where your hand rests against it. You wonder what his skin would feel like if you touched him.

It’s an experiment. It could go extremely wrong or not. You have a fish in hand about to hand feed your creature, the guy who almost lost his hand would tell you it’s very stupid of you but he didn’t spend as much time with him as you did. Before you could think this through again and give in to the fears of getting your hand bitten off you get the remote from your pocket and make the metal lid almost reveal the full surface of the tank.

”Alright. Let’s do this.” You take a deep breath and stretch your hand above the water waiting for something to happen. You learned that he can spend some limited amount of time above the surface as long as his tail is submerged. It happened one time when you accidentally dropped the bucket into the water and he helped you hook it back in place, he looked happy when you thanked him for his help his tail did that little drop you catch him do sometimes when he looks pleased.

”Please don’t bite my arm off.” You plead with him gently when he suddenly pops his head out of the body of water a little further away from reaching your hands. He snatches it from between your fingers with the speed of light his nails graze your skin but doesn’t really scratch you or anything, you remind yourself to breathe in and out while you get another one from inside the bucket and stretch your arm out again in the same manner.

He’s more careful this time as he swims closer to where you stand and reaches for the fish. You smile proudly when he manages to get it this time gently. You keep feeding him until there’s only one fish left, this way it’s a lot slower to carry out the task but it was worth it in the end.

After he ate everything Jungkook’s hand reaches above the water and shows you his palm in the exact way that he would push it against the glass. You understand what he tries to do and decide to just go for it. His skin is really cold and somewhat slimy it’s eye-opening to see how much bigger his hand looks compared to yours.

He suddenly tugs at your hand as if he wants to beckon you to join him in the water but you pull yours back with fear that he’ll make you tip over the edge. Jungkook looks at you longingly when you press your back to the railing getting as much space between you two as possible given the cramped stairs.

”I can’t breathe like you underwater, I’m sorry but I can’t go in with you.” You shake your head, trying to make him understand your point of view. Jungkook goes back into the water and you adjust the lid with the remote with a disappointed sigh. The feeding went well you’re sad that it took a wrong turn at the end.

You still turn on the movie not sure if he wants to be alone or not. The next day you resume the same way as you were feeding him before using the rod with the bucket, you don’t want last time to make things weird between you two so when he doesn’t initiate the hand pressed on the glass you do it.

”I’m sorry, you probably still feel my nervousness but I can’t help it. You’re so much stronger than I am and you can’t tell me that you won’t hurt me so I’m getting cautious every time you come near me.” He listens to you intently, observing your hand that’s still pushed against the glass waiting for him to do the same. As if realising your intentions he swims closer but instead of giving you his hand he’s pressing his cheek into your palm, you only feel the glass but the meaning behind his action warms your heart.

”It’s not that I don’t want to trust you but it will take more time for me to get comfortable. I hope you can understand.”

Jungkook keeps pushing his face into your hand and you giggle when you see his face turn funny from the press. ”You know I wonder a lot what you think of me. I think you’re very beautiful especially your tail. It looks so strong and massive and your scales are pretty when the light shines on them.”

You get a little shy after confessing all of this so you bury your face into your hands but it means you have to pull it away from the glass and Jungkook makes the first noise ever – that’s not eating noises and the sound of flesh torn apart – with grinding his teeth together to show you his displeasure. Tilting your head to the side you don’t catch it immediately what that means until you see his face pushed against the glass a little harder.

It calms him down when you place it back where it was before. ”You’re so needy, I guess you like my touch?” You ask even though you’re not expecting a real answer, he doesn’t react just keeps his face near your palm looking at you with his big dark eyes.

This time you selected something new to watch, you always try to bring a different genre each time so Jungkook can get familiar with different types of films and decide for himself what he likes best. You can’t say for sure what he likes as he watches everything intently. You already showed him documentaries action films and comedies but this time you brought a romance movie.

His reaction looks the same even when the two protagonists start kissing each other on screen but it makes you keep wondering. If mermen exist there are probably mermaids as well. Does he miss his old home? You don’t even know if they’re social creatures like humans but you guess maybe they are considering how he got lonely when you didn’t pay any attention to him. Maybe he has a beautiful mermaid waiting for him in the ocean, you can never know there’s no way for you to ask.

You see a beautiful seashell bracelet on display the other day while you’re out shopping with your friend, it reminds you of Jungkook’s tail as the colour is close to resembling indigo. You contemplate if you should get it for him as a gift.

Even when your friend keeps teasing you about it, asking countless times who’s this mysterious boyfriend of yours that makes you spend money on him, you happily tuck two of the same pair inside your jean’s pocket after you paid not confirming her suspicions nor denying them. Excited to see the merman’s reaction when you give this to Jungkook, you hope he’ll like this little gift.

You’re tired and hungry when you arrive back at home after spending the whole day outdoors, it was nice for a chance to get out of the house. You like spending time with Jungkook, don’t be mistaken, but it’s not the same when you do all the talking.

Getting ready to eat lunch with your father as always you first shower and get some comfortable clothes on.

He asked about the merman and you may have left a few details out (such as when you fed him with your bare hands) as you told him the two of you are getting on well with each other instead. It’s close to ten when you could finally dismiss your presence from dinner and visit your merman.

You flick the light switch on locating the bucket on the far end of the living room and drag it over to the fridge so you can load it up with fish. Jungkook is excited to see you, more than usual. You think it’s probably because you didn’t show up around four when you usually give him his meals.

Too tired to hand feed him you empty the bucket onto the surface, sitting down next to the tank too tired to realise you’re very close to the open water as you absentmindedly adjusted the lid so you don’t need to use the rod. Jungkook eats next to you but you keep your eyes ahead still not entirely used to the way he eats.

You suddenly remember your purchase and turn to face your merman who looks at you when he catches your movements abandoning his headless fish to give you his attention, you rummage through your pockets until you find what you’re looking for and pull out both shell bracelets.

Sliding one to sit around your wrist just to show him how he can use it, you reach your hand out to offer him the other one.

”This reminded me of you so I thought I should get this. It’s a bracelet, you wear it like this.” You show him your arm and then ask for his hand as he remains unmoving. His big eyes watch you. Looking between your face and the bracelet, not understanding what you’re trying to say so you place your palm upwards and wait for him.

He recognises this gesture as you two did this a millionth time by now and immediately places his palm against yours that’s when you slide the bracelet onto his wrist. Jungkook touches it with his fingers pulling at the band but you stop him before he could tear it with his strength. ”It’s yours.”

His face lits up with realisation and something seems to change in the air around you. Jungkook follows the patterns of the shells with his finger dreamily looking at his newest possession.

You’re glad he likes it.

You catch him touching it a lot after you gifted it to him and never saw him without it, well, not that he could store it anywhere if you think about it.

His appetite not only returned to its previous state but if it’s possible at this point you have to give him double the amount to fully satisfy his hunger. You’re happy that he eats well and if it makes him happy and healthy you’ll gladly offer more fruits next to his meals and lately, he’s been eating vegetables as well. Jungkook doesn’t seem to gain any additional weight by eating more as much as you can tell. His waist is very slim but his tail is massive and his chest is defined with muscles, you’re in awe every time that your hands touch how petite it seems compared to his larger ones.

He appears to be a little restless. Jungkook keeps circling around the tank following you everywhere you go pressing his hands and cheeks against the glass and grinds his teeth together when you try to leave, he even tried to pull you inside the tank but you were able to get away before that could eventually happen.

You know that the internet can hardly offer you a legitimate answer but you still type your question into the searching engines. You almost give up when you come across a webpage about merfolk, at first you think this might be another one of those rewritten versions of the little mermaid when you see something interesting.

Intelligent predators of the sea. They are at the helm of the marine food chain. Status, endangered. As far as studies show scientists can’t narrow down their natural habitat but they have been seen around the pacific ocean numerous times. The man counterparts are unable to speak while females can imitate singing and produce noises that could resemble words. There’s a high possibility that they have a unique language to communicate with each other but it’s very different from humans and our ears might not be compatible receiving the signals.

Mermen are most vulnerable when mating season comes, it occurs once a year, they wait for the females around the area to shower them with gifts signalling that they’re ready to bear their children. Mermen choose the one with the gift that they find appealing and begun their courting circles around the chosen child bearer.

The article you read keeps appearing inside your head. You dismissed it the first few times because, how can someone find legitimate research on a mythical creature (that no one believes exist) probably someone had a good imagination and wrote these things to entertain the audience.

You only start to consider the words when Jungkook gets clingier (more than normal) and does those weird circles. At first, you thought that he’ll stop doing it if you don’t respond. You’re extra cautious to keep your distance too but he’s relentless.

If they find their potential mate they keep pursuing them until the female gives in. Mermen are headstrong creatures, can wait years and picky about who they mate with that’s why not that many infants are born keeping their numbers low. While merman can wait for their mate a long time mermaids give gifts to every potential partner and accept the courting circles of the strongest male in their territory that would ensure they and their children will be well protected and have plenty of food to eat.

Mermen mate for life while mermaids will move on to the next potential suitor if their mate happens to die ensuring that there’ll be always newborns for race preservation.

Jungkook’s entire face lits up when he sees you enter his room, he keeps munching happily on his food every day even though you don’t respond to his courting. You feel guilty, giving him that bracelet he cherishes so much is supposed to be a nice gesture, had no idea that he’ll take this the wrong way and the article doesn’t say how can you gently let down a merman’s mating offer.

The best solution that you can think of is to set him free and release him back to the ocean where he can meet other mermaids and maybe he’ll forget about you. A voice in your head likes to remind you what you read online, that mermen mate for life and it looks like the merman you named Jungkook chose you.

On nights when you toss and turn around in your bed with your bedsheets tightly tucked under your chin staring at the ceiling you entertain the idea of saying say. Mating scares you, you have no idea how that works and the online source you found offers you little information on the subject.

On the other hand, there’s certainly something you feel for Jungkook. You admitted before that you think he’s beautiful you feel attracted to him at least and even without words, you two were able to make a connection.

He’s so different and not just in an anatomical aspect. There are so many differences between you two, how could that even work?

You don’t have an answer ready yet but you know you have to choose between the first option or the latter and soon. No matter which one you choose in the end, someone will eventually get hurt.

More Than Just Glass – the continuation of ‘With Glass Between Us’ check out the next part here!

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