#i had to limit myself to ten because otherwise it never would have happened

[alianoralacanta]

Who I Support (27-06-2007)

Context: A couple of months ago, I wrote a post about who I support in F1. This is not the first time I have done this. With the influx of fans from outside the forums where my blog originated, I started to be asked who I supported. You may notice a few differences between how I wrote it 17 years ago and my more recent post (not just that I went into more history of my path through supporting drivers in 2024, or that the name of the team I supported was half as long in 2007). Firstly, I hadn't figured out what the initial spark was that made me want to support Damon Hill. Back then, I recalled it was something trivial, but it took a few more years before I realised it was to do with his name being short (and thus something I could pronounce). Also, I was almost ternary in how I described my stance towards drivers back in 2007: - support (a very rare position. In my way of viewing it, this was someone or something I felt a two-way connection with, that liked strongly enough to have responsibilities and not simply enjoyment towards). - like (someone or something that I believed made the sport better by being there but did not feel responsibility for, simply appreciating their good points). - dislike (rare then, becoming even rarer. These were drivers or team bosses who I felt fell short of what F1 should be). Nowadays, I feel more intermediate and nuanced connections, so apart from "support" (which is still basically as it is), the whole concept of labelling this sort of thing is of limited use to me. Finally, it wouldn't occur to me to explain what happens if there's a "conflict" because, with 80% of F1 fans also having multiple favourites, it's no longer something that would confuse most readers. Of course, some people ask anyway since not everyone handles them the same way… Warning! Long post alert!

I support one team (Jordan/Midland/Spyker/call it what you will) and several drivers (Coulthard, Button, Hamilton, Davidson and Fisichella).

Of these, I consider Jordan/Midland/Spyker to be my deepest loyalty. It started by proxy when Damon Hill arrived (I'd supported him ever since the first race I watched (France 1993) - I never understood what caused me to start supporting him, but I certainly never regretted it!). Initially I had no particular feel for the team specifically, but Spain 1998 will always stick in my memory. On lap 55 of this candidate for "Most Boring F1 Race Ever", I suddenly heard myself cheering "Come on Ralf Schumacher!"

After the initial puzzlement (back then I considered Ralf's most important feature to be his being Damon's team-mate and not otherwise noticed Ralf), I realised what had happened - I'd fallen for Jordan the team, and since Damon had retired ten laps earlier with a broken engine, that meant that Ralf was Jordan's sole remaining representative on track. It was a combination of quirkiness, energy, determination in the face of setbacks and EJ's charm that made me choose Jordan as my team. Even the changeover to Midland (necessary but not very helpful) and then Spyker (necessary for a different reason, and now going somewhere slowly) did not make me consider changing my team loyalties at all.

As for the drivers, I have grouped Coulthard, Button, Hamilton and Davidson together on purpose. They are, of course, all British. As it happens, I have supported every British driver since Hill to some extent or other on the basis of nationality - except Irvine, who swore and attacked his colleagues too much for my liking. Coulthard is a household favourite (he's Mum's favourite driver) due to his smoothness and intelligent words. Button looked like becoming another Coulthard in terms of the good traits, and even James Allen's ex-obsession with him didn't put me off. Hamilton is progressing really well, is always positive and may yet become Damon Hill's successor in terms of netting a world driver championship. Davidson appeals partly because he looks like being the next Johnny Herbert - rather unlucky, but always a smile for the cameras.

I started supporting Fisichella about halfway through 2001. The Benetton B201 looked pretty horrible to drive and it often traded qualifying slots with Minardi and Arrows. While Button spent the year twiddling his thumbs and dreaming of better days on his yacht, Fisi was pushing as hard as possible, and with the help of Benetton's talented development staff, dragged the B201 into respectability (and a Spa podium) by the last third of the season. Two seasons with equally stubborn Jordan chassis confirmed my original impressions, though Damon Hill is still my favourite out of all the drivers I've supported.

With all these divided loyalties, you may be wondering what happens in the fairly likely event that two of the above battle for position. I tend to go for the "may the best one win and both do their best" approach - unless Spyker is involved, in which case my team loyalty overrides my driver loyalty.

[demonslayedher]

What are some blood demon art concepts you find interesting but they weren’t explored in the canon?

This was one of the Asks that made me go, "uuuuuuhhhhh..."

The reason for this is that I find myself most creative in response to a problem. For example, in this fic I came up with the Mirror Demon because I wanted a demon that might be fought with the final form of Flower Breath. That's why in a lot of hypotheticals or potential AUs I'm asked about, my first response is to set the perimeters and figure out how to work within those constraints, such as asking what would be in-character. Constraints drive creativity, like how well you can write a haiku within a given set of rules.

What I'm less good at is divergent creativity: coming up with something out of nothing, no limits.

That brings me to how I'd like to answer this Ask: with a breakdown of my brainstorming methods!

A common phenomenon is that children are better at divergent thinking--imagining all the possibilities--than adults, who have had that ability beaten out of them by the emphasis on "rightness" and that some ideas are "stupid." It takes exercising this part of the brain to be able to think in more original ways instead of just "the best" ways. This page breaks it down pretty simply and explains it with the paperclip test/game, and here's more ideas for other exercises and different kinds of goals you could potentially have for creative thinking.

When I am doing a group brainstorming exercise, be it in a classroom or office setting, what I find works best is a leader/moderator at the board who can catch things and write fast and potentially legibly (within reason for how fast they're writing), and the method should be agreed upon in advance--for example, mind-mapping, which uses branches from a main idea to show relationships between ideas. Typically, this means starting with a main idea in the center and branching out into different categories as more ideas come to you. Another methods is writing things in a list format, thinking of as many things as you can in a given category. These are basics found in any cheesy corporate "how to increase creativity" guide, but they are helpful in easing people into how to brainstorm.

The challenge is to set a time frame--short enough that you are forced to think fast, long enough that it gets painful. The time frame is up to you, whether it's setting a timer for one minute or however long it takes for you to write while eating melting gelato. Okay, maybe in a formal setting you'll set a timer to keep everyone on the same page.

While you might have a different ultimate goal in the purpose of your brainstorming, what you're going for here is not quality, but quantity--as many ideas as possible--and that means not throwing any stupid ideas out. If anything, the stupid ideas are where magic starts to happen. It's the shift from "basic stuff anyone could think of off the top of their head" to "oh, I never would had thought of this otherwise." You have to force yourself to think past the initial, obvious-feeling, correct-feeling ideas to access what's more unusual, and that usually means some stupid ideas first. It's like dusting out the cobwebs of this part of your brain you aren't usually accessing. I've also heard this process described as tossing out your first ten ideas, at least in a creative script-writing approach.

Refining your ideas, convergent thinking, comes later. But only after you've gotten some ideas to work with!

The reason a legible mind-map or list works well in a group setting is because this means everyone can observe the ideas after the initial "hurry, hurry, think, think" stage. Everyone can discuss them and decide which ones to throw out, and even draw lines showing more connections and circling whatever ideas you want to come back to.

But do I look like a corporate board room to you? No. I ate gelato today while writing this:

When it's just me using it, I don't care about legibility, and I use a mix of mind-mapping arrows and lists and flow of consciousness. While playing with story ideas I might whole pages of doodles that look like this with fragments of character lines. This gave me a way to observe my own thoughts about Demon Blood Techniques and their unlimited potential, and I found that I kept myself thinking quickly by asking questions and then answering myself.

Also, I got lines like "Skunk demon" and "so now we're the Magic School Bus."

Some of the themes I found interesting were the repeated effects of sound waves (Kyogai, Nakime, Flute Demon), and infinity (the fortress, the ability to regenerate, the ability to replicate, etc.). One of the themes I thought deeper on was how much I love Kyogai's abilities, and not just Kyogai himself. For as much as other Blood Techniques are based on things we've seen in other media (being trapped in good dreams, alternate dimensional spaces, spider threads, body duplicates, illusions, etc)., Kyogai's abilities were very unexpected, but also had a rationale to them. However, instead of the sound waves only changing the orientation and spatial locations of the rooms, he also had big air claws, which otherwise would seem like they have nothing to do with the orientation of a room. In the first place, air claws and redecorating seem they have nothing to do with drums. It's the combination of these factors that make Kyogai's Blood Technique so impressive and refreshing.

Once I made that observation, I made a couple of lists of potential means that a demon might use and ways that a Demon Slayer or prey might be overcome, and then I connected them semi-randomly. I got connections like "temperature" and "memories," like how a demon might raise the temperature of a room little by little and call to a demon slayer's mind memories of their childhood, until they are completely overwhelmed with that last summer they spent in childhood innocence as they are in reality boiling alive, and "color" with "invading body," like if a chameleon-like demon can match the color of a Nichirin blade then it can gain control over the swordsman's hands and forearms, whatever grip created that color.

My favorite, though, was "fingernails" and "suffocation," because it gave me a very vivid mental image of a demon sweeping its hand like it's going to grab a swordsman's face, but draws away just shy of touching them. However, with its long fingernails, it's grabbed the Breath just about to enter a swordsman, and pulls it right out of them.

Horrific, am I right!?!?

So anyway. That's what I got from my divergent thinking experiment today. It's the kind of thing I tell myself I need to do more of when trying to write my own original fiction, but kind of like physical exercise, I think about it more than I actually do it. ^^;

[kieren-fucking-walker]

Hello! I’m excited to do this as I don’t rec much, reccing things terrifies me because I hate feeling like I’m picking/playing favourites and leaving people out, and I also am just generally bad at picking my favourites of anything because I like too many things too much. I also am very bad at bookmarking, keeping track of fics I read, and generally being able to recall the names of fics to be able to rec them. So, with all that in mind I thought I’d start with something easy, on the understanding that this isn’t by any means an exhaustive list and I’d be more comfortable with this being “ten fics I like” rather than a top ten because there are far far too many fics I love in this fandom to ever do a list of favourites. So, in no particular order: 

Ten fics under ten thousand words (that I love):

Hypocrite by Lynds [@gold-from-straw​] - Rating: G, WC: 1.6k, Pairing: N/A

Summary: How can Todd possibly expect to be forgiven if he still can't forgive everyone who hurt him? Why I love it: This is one of my favourite explorations of a very specific part of Todd’s character, and it’s worth noting that the characteristics are spot on. I come back to this fic over and over again, and while in many ways it’s painful it’s also real and honest and just a beautiful bit of writing concerning Todd and his guilt.

Dork Greatly's Holistic Laundry Service by obscureenthusiast -  Rating: G, WC: 2.8k, Pairing: Brotzly (kind of)

Summary: Dirk very generously offers to help Todd with his household chores... an offer which Todd eventually takes him up on. The laundry gets a little out of hand when Todd remembers a game he and Amanda used to play and Dirk enthusiastically joins.

Why I love it: Cute!! It’s cute silly fun of these two bonding over laundry and sock puppets, gentle ribbing and acting like children. It gets even better when Farah joins in, I’m a sucker for those three being dorks together. 

My Mind Is My Own Worst Enemy; It Keeps Trying To Convince Me That You Are by DontOffendTheBees [@dont-offend-the-bees​​​]  -  Rating: T, WC: 1.6k, Pairing: Brotzly

Summary: His voice is so familiar and yet also just so… wrong. There’s something missing in it. Some vital aspect of Todd that Dirk didn’t even notice until it was gone.

Why I love it: ANGST! This appeals to every single one of my angst tendencies, and as I’m using this rec list to rec things I love I have to give a shoutout to the most wonderfully angsty fic I’ve read. I love this fic. I love the premise, I love the tension, I love the way it’s written, I love how awful the situation is. I love the way this fic is resolved, I love that it’s plausible, realistic in that. It’s incredibly emotional in all the worst ways and that makes it one of my favourite short fics ever.

Cut To The Feeling by zaphodthebb -  Rating: G, WC: 2.1k, Pairing: Brotzly 

Summary: Post Blackwing rescue, Todd is awake and on guard duty. He's had too much coffee. Also, Dirk can't sleep.

Why I love it: I’m such a sucker for post-big-things fic and this one nails the feeling perfectly. You can feel the exhaustion, the way smaller things they didn’t have time to worry about before catching up to them now they can stop for a moment. Both Dirk and Todd feel tired and real and it’s just a lovely read. 

split the secret up by piggy09 [@sharkodactyl] -  Rating: T, WC: 5.1k, Pairing: N/A

Summary: He asks if Dirk can hear it and Dirk just laughs, the sound reassuringly human.Well, not reassuringly. Reassuringly would mean Todd had to be reassured.It’s just – it sounds human. Which is good. Because Dirk is human. Definitely

Why I love it: Why don’t I love it? The idea of the Blackwing subjects being Eldritch in some way is a concept I’ve explored numerous times because it appeals to me so much, and if it appeals to you then you want to read this fic. It’s eerie and unsettling, the ability to hit the tone of not-quite-right is perfect, the pacing is astounding and it’s so hard to write a fic like this and keep the idea together as well as it’s done here. I love experimental styles of writing and when they turn out like this it’s not hard to see why. I love this fic a lot. (I would also recommend reading on desktop not mobile because the formatting of this fic adds so much to it!)

Catharsis by ben8615  -  Rating: T, WC: 1.3k, Pairing: Brotzly

Summary: Dirk is broken as heck, so why not have him cry it out? That's it. That's the whole story. You can all go home now.

Why I love it: The title and summary say it all really! This is such a lovely little fic about Dirk getting some catharsis in a way we all know he desperately needs, and paired with Todd taking care of him so gently? It’s such a perfect, wonderful little fic that just feels quiet and safe and wonderful.

objects in mirror may be closer than they appear by sharlook [@aceabed]  -  Rating: T, WC: 8.8k, Pairing: Brotzly

Summary: You’re alone, with your arms wrapped tight around a pillow at god knows what time in the night, and there are tears running down your face because you can’t seem to stop thinking about it, not even in your dreams. And then clutching your covers you get an idea. (In which Dirk has nightmares about Blackwing, goes to Todd for help, and is really, really, really in love.)

Why I love it: This fic aches in such a beautiful way. It doesn’t shy away from the ramifications of what Dirk went through and how that plays out for him, his fears and paranoias feel real and present in a way I really appreciate. The choice to use second person is a really good one, it’s a tricky pov to pull off but this definitely gets it right and is better for it. The development of Dirk and Todd’s relationship, particularly looking at Todd’s reactions to Dirk’s worries through Dirk’s eyes is just wonderful and it’s well worth a read. 

Those Grey Days by TheRoyalPrussianArmy [@theroyalprussianarmy​]  -  Rating: G, WC: 2.4k, Pairing: Brotzly

Summary: The bad days weren't always days. They could creep up, like some small, silent predator and deliver a swift bite that poisoned its victim's outlook. A blue sky could turn into grey one heartbeat after a laugh. The gentle sound of the wind in the trees would suddenly become overwhelmingly irritating. Even so much as a door closing or footsteps across the floor could lead to a strong desire to cry and scream, to rage and throw things. They would always pass, of course, but in the moment they were devastating.

Why I love it: We all know I love a good Todd characterisation, and I love a good exploration of the shitty realities of bad mental health and letting other people help you with that. I really really love this fic for both of those reasons, it’s unflinching without being gratuitous, and I really love the way it doesn’t promise sudden miraculous recovery at the hands of someone else, but ends on a gentler kind of promise of having people be there for you if you let them be. Also I’m a huge fan of the way this is written, it reads so nicely and it’s more than worth it. 

Light Work by  juniper_and_lamplight  [@juniper-and-lamplight​​​​]  -  Rating: T, WC: 2.8k, Pairing: Farina

Summary: Tina had, with her typical blunt insight, poked at Farah’s motivations for baking the cake herself. “Is it some kind of control-freaky thing? Like you can’t trust anyone else to get it right?” And while Farah couldn’t honestly say no to that question, her real motivation ran deeper.

Why I love it: This fic is wonderful. I always think we need more Farah insights, and this fic does just that in such a beautiful way, catching on her idiosyncrasies and the character building is to die for. It’s such a simple idea and yet the story itself manages to be rich and full, the imagery is simply gorgeous and every little snippet of a look into Farah’s life as it was in the past and is right now just delights me. Honestly this fic will leave you with a sweet, warm feeling all the way down to your toes and dwelling in the comfort of knowing Farah is loved by herself and others in all the ways she deserves.

or make a home by reptilianraven [@actualbird​​]  -  Rating: T, WC: 6.6k, Pairing: Brotzly

Summary: “Perhaps,” Dirk says in his best ‘yes, I’m bullshitting you, but I’m your boyfriend and you love me still’ voice. “The universe wants it this way.”“The universe wants you to always forget to put the cap back on the toothpaste,” Todd says, unimpressed, screwing the cap on himself.-Or Todd’s adventures in dating Dirk Gently, the mundanities of which unsurprisingly turning out to not be very mundane at all (featuring, among other things: intergalactic wormholes, regular periods of lying down on the floor, and several annoying habits that concern toothpaste and toothbrushes.)

Why I love it: You know those fics you read that make you want to throw your face into a pillow and scream with emotions? Yeah. This fic is so ridiculously good. The beauty of mundane daily rituals that make up part of a relationship! The way those things grow together, evolving into each others spaces and lives, this fic explores that so well. The portrayal of their relationship is so soft and tender, so happy and bright and silly and sad and everything a relationship should be. Honestly I can’t overstate enough how much I love this fic, I can’t go on and on here, but I’m about 99% sure this fic invented love-in-small-spaces kinda way. Also, sidetracking from all my other comments, if you like Mika’s song Tiny Love and the reprise of it then you’ll love this fic because I listened to it and immediately thought of it. Beautiful, emotional, fic. If this fic was a blanket I’d burrito myself in it and never leave. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There we go! I obviously have far more than ten fics that fall into this category and hopefully more of them will be cropping up over the course of this week if I can find the time to make that happen, but as this is something I’m lowkey scared of doing I’m pleased enough to have this much! Thank you so much to @dghdafeedbackfest​ for organising this!

If you read any of these fics and like them please let the author know! Also check out some of their other stuff, because a lot of these authors are writers I love in general! 

[dduane]

Hi, Ms. Duane! I was wondering if you'd be willing to answer a question about working with an editor. In doing fan works, I've encountered two different approaches to editing other people's work, and I was wondering if one or the other was more common in professional circles

With the first approach, the writer submits a draft to the editor, who looks it over and suggests or requires changes to be made, and sends the draft back to the writer for revision. The writer then makes the changes and resubmits the new draft, and the process continues until the editor is satisfied.

With the second approach, the writer submits a draft to the editor, who looks it over and makes any changes they think are necessary themselves. They then inform the writer that the changes were made after the fact, and may not give the writer an opportunity to look over those changes for themselves.

Is there a general expectation that one or the other approaches be followed, in a professional setting? (assuming for the sake of argument that there is either no given deadline for publication, or that the interaction is happening well in advance of such a deadline) Or does it vary based on the editor in question? (I'm sorry, that might actually be three questions)

(Also, since I'd feel bad about contacting you just for a "shop" question, I'd also like to say thank you for... well, for a lot of things, actually, but this time I'll pick one and say thank you for Peach; in my adult life I've always made sure to read any contract before I sign it. And you'd be surprised what sort of weird clauses end up in EULAs)

Thank you!

You're very welcome! And yeah, always read the small print. Always. ALWAYS.

Meanwhile, re: the editing:

Re fanfic: I can speak only in a very limited mode to this issue. In particular, "editing" strikes me as a possibly rather slippery term for what happens when there is no written contract between you and the person judging your work, and no money has changed hands. (The old saying "Advice is worth exactly what you paid for it..." keeps coming up in the background. But after four decades, I can hardly be blamed.)

It's hardly going to be a secret these days that, for my own pleasure and that of some others, I do still (when there’s time and inclination) write fanfic. In a somewhat unguarded/screwball mood I outed myself in this regard at a media con in the UK ten years or so ago, and it continues to amuse me how little notice was taken then, or has been since. It's always good to be reminded, if gently, of (the lack of) one's importance.  :)

...Anyway. As I like to get things as right as I can, I have one deeply trusted beta* who alerts me to any hiccups in execution of plot and/or prose, inquires about issues I might have missed, and otherwise lets me get on with what I'm doing. If there are other behavioral or structural rigors routinely expected of fanfic editors, I don't know about them. My understanding is that we're all doing this for fun, and for the (potential) enjoyment of other people; and my feeling would be that asking more of a fellow ficcer, let alone requiring it, would be Too Much Like Work. And jeez, I'd think we all have more than enough of that.

As regards the relationship between writer and editor at the professional end: in forty years of doing this work at the money-changes-hands end, across three out of five major publishing houses in the US/UK markets and numerous minor ones, I have never, never, NEVER, had an editor attempt to interact with me in the second mode you describe. And if they did, I would be on the phone to my agent in really short order demanding to know what the hell was going on at that publisher... because unless that behavior stopped right this minute, I would make sure that I never darkened their door again. If contractual requirements made it impossible for me to leave after turning that book in, I would at the very least do my damndest to be assigned another editor. Because such behavior is absolutely beyond the pale, and would not be considered professional or permissible anywhere I’ve worked. 

(Noting here: copy-editors—the people who edit one’s text for typos, format issues, etc etc—are not editors in the sense we’re discussing. Every traditionally-published writer I know has horror stories about copy-editors who’ve messed up their prose. And it is always the writer’s right to put everything back exactly the way it was before the CE got at it. ...For Thoth’s sweet sake don’t ever get @petermorwood started on this theme: he’ll bend your ear until it comes off in his hand. Some of his CEs apparently needed a two-by-four taken to them.)

At the professional end, in my experience, it is never the editor's business to make changes in your text without your consent. Or, indeed, any changes at all. It's their business to communicate to you what changes they feel are needed for the work to become “its best self” (and why!), and then to step back and let you make them... assuming you agree, and choose to make them. Acceptance or rejection of suggested changes is always assumed to be the author's responsibility... because at the end of the day, it's your name going on that work of fiction, NOT theirs. ...If after you’ve done all the edits you’re going to do (and you might have gone several rounds in this process: yeah, it can be a little like a boxing match…) and the editor still feels more work needs to be done when you don’t, then the situation is escalated to someone further up at the publisher, who makes any further necessary judgment calls.

In forty years and more than fifty novels, I’ve never had this happen. And I know a lot of writers... and have never once heard of this happening to any of them, either.

...So, leaning back into this at the fanfic end: if someone "editing" my fic tried to make changes in it without consulting me, I'd ask pretty sharply who the hell they thought had died and left them God.

Everybody needs to be clear that this is in no way whatsofuckingever an “I’ve Been Doing This For Forty Years And I’ve Been On The Times List X Times, Blah Blah Blah” issue. This is a most basic creativity issue that goes to the root of why people write (and write for pleasure) at all.

Writing is one of the very few areas of human existence in which a single being can wield utter, ultimate power. What happens between you and the paper (or the screen) can be anything you desire: ultimate purity or total depravity, the heights of Heaven or the depths of Hell, and anything in between. In that frame of experience and existence, you are God. To exercise such power is one of the very few forms of perfect freedom available to a member of our species... and admitting any other sentient being to that process is a profound intimacy.

If I was writing fanfic and someone tried making changes in work of mine without consulting me? -- without my consent? They would never lay eyes on my work again until it went up on AO3 (or whatever) and was safely out of reach of their meddling. And I would roll my eyes hard enough for them to fall out of their sockets at the very thought of them (every time such a thought came up). Because honestly!—the nerve of them powertripping over my stuff. Let them go be God in their own universe... not mine. Seriously, you have to draw a line somewhere.

So. Tl:dr: approach 2 is to be found nowhere in the professional fiction-publishing world. Anybody who tells you otherwise is deeply confused. Approach 1 (with the understanding that the author is the final arbiter of what changes get made) is the universal expectation.

HTH. (And if I’ve sounded a little emphatic about this: it’s about a basic writers’ right. Don’t let anyone try to take it off you.)  :)

*No, it’s not @petermorwood. He has enough on his plate, believe me.

[pippytmi]

Supercorp + Hogwarts AU + meet messy + "is that the best you can do?"

“Hey, do you guys want to see a muggle magic trick?”

Kara doesn’t have to look up to know Alex and Kelly are exchanging glances over Nia’s head. Nia is the best witch in the fifth year hands-down, but her grasp of muggle illusions leave a lot to be desired.

“Sure…” Kelly agrees, politely but unsurely, while Alex shakes her head.

“If this is that stupid coin trick again, Nia—” she starts, but Nia is already squeezing between them on the grass, unfolding a pack of muggle playing cards.

“It is not,” Nia says. “Prepare to be amazed! Yvette says I’m really good at this one.”

“Oh, joy,” Alex mutters under her breath, which turns into a pained yelp when Kelly elbows her in the ribs.

Kara finally raises her gaze from the newspaper she’s been half-reading, fully prepared to commit to Nia’s trick, but then she catches a glimpse of dark hair and a brisk pace. It’s Lena Luthor, notorious loner, actually sitting outside by the black lake with her books.

It’s odd—Lena never sits outside. People talk; Lena doesn’t have many friends (someone even started a rumor that Lillian Luthor pays Jess, another sixth year, to hang out with Lena). In fact, the only time anyone really sees Lena is in class, or in the Slytherin common room when Jess is also there. Kara sees her even less (only when Slytherin and Gryffindor share classrooms), but that doesn’t make the hopeless crush she’s fostered on her since they were eleven any less potent.

Kelly starts clapping suddenly, reluctantly dragging Kara’s eyes from Lena (who is reading a book; Kara is wondering just what kind of book it is). “Aw, Nia, that was good!” she says. “Do it again!”

Even Alex is curiously lifting up the cards one by one, as if trying to determine the trick herself. “Did you use actual magic for this?” she asks.

“I’m just that good,” Nia brags, though the way she tries to expertly shuffle the cards right back into their box suggests otherwise; half of them spill onto the grass. “Oh man!”

“I’ve got this,” Kara says, absentmindedly reaching for her wand. “Accio—”

“Kara, no!”

Oh, that’s right, Kara thinks belatedly. My wand is broken. It had been an unfortunate event on the Quidditch pitch involving an overzealous Hufflepuff seeker (Winn is still very apologetic about it, but it can’t be helped now). Unfortunately, Kara never seems to quite remember that magic is off-limits until it can be fixed.

And even more unfortunate is the fact that her mind and her words have begun to converge; she’s thinking about the book Lena is reading while glancing at the cards, and her mouth is forming silent words, and really it’s not a surprise at all when said book rockets out of Lena’s hands and aims right for Nia’s head.

No one dies, though, nor do they have to make the unpleasant trudge to the infirmary—Kelly is far quicker than any of Kara’s botched magic, and the book explodes into nothing when she mutters a firm, “Evanesco.”

“Kelly!” Kara forgets, for a second, about the whole Nia-about-to-break-her-face thing; her heart drops to the pit of her stomach at the thought that something of Lena Luthor’s has been reduced to figurative dust. What if that book was personal? What if it was special? What if it was—

“Excuse me,” says a quiet, sudden voice, and Kara just about falls over in the grass at the sight of Lena Luthor standing there. “I think you summoned my book.”

Kelly winces. “Oh, actually—”

“I destroyed it,” Kara blurts out, because really, this is her fault and Nia still has a face so the least Kara can do is take a fall for a friend. “I’m sorry. My wand is broken, and I was trying to summon some cards, but I was looking at you and thinking about your book and it just…I’m sorry. Again. I can pay for it?” She immediately begins digging into the pockets of her robes, but all she manages to scrounge up is a broken sugar quill and a drawing on a torn sheet of paper that depicts Professor Grant as a dragon.

For a moment, all Lena does is stare down at Kara in a peculiarly quizzical way. She doesn’t seem mad or anything, just perplexed. A second later she says, “You were thinking about ‘Voyages with Vampires’ strongly enough to summon it? I don’t really enjoy Gilderoy Lockhart books myself.”

“To be fair,” Kara’s quick to defend herself, “I couldn’t read the title from this far.”

“Right. You decided you wanted to snatch my book from me because it was mine.” And just like that, the curious expression on Lena’s face drops entirely, twists into something resigned and exhausted. “Is that the best you can do? Petty little child games?”

“What? No, I would never—”

“Because last week Eve Tessmacher hit me with a furnunculus curse that was far more clever than this,” Lena all but sneers. “It’s always the pig-headed Gryffindors that aim out of their league.”

“You wanna say that again?” Alex is jumping up, her wand brandished out, and Lena glances from her to Kara to Kelly to Nia, as if just realizing how potentially outnumbered she could be.

Except, well, that’s so not the issue. Kara hastens to stand between Alex’s wand and Lena’s body, nearly knocking her sister over in the process. “No! No, I didn’t do that as a prank, I—” She pauses, feels her cheeks go hot, and then rushes out, “Ijustthinkyou’rereallypretty!”

Alex lowers her wand; Kara can tell, because Alex uses it to jab her in the ribs. “Oh, bloody hell,” Alex grumbles, and she nudges Kelly to join her. “I think that’s our cue. I’d rather study for Potions than watch this.”

Kelly obligingly drags Nia along, who looks like she wants to protest, but eventually Nia caves in—though not without trying to wink conspiringly at Kara, which doesn’t work because Nia “winks” with both eyes.

“But—” Kara watches as her friends scatter, and then she is left with the heavy, accusatory gaze of Lena Luthor. She tries to smile, but imagines her attempt is more of a wince than anything. “Did I mention that I’m sorry?”

Lena takes a step forward. She raises her chin in the air, no less guarded, but her eyes convey a tiny bit of that earlier curiosity all the same. “You’ve already had your fun, Kara Danvers,” she says. “But I will give you credit, no one has played the ‘I have a crush on you’ prank yet.”

Kara frowns. “Do people really play pranks on you so much?”

“I am the weird little sister of a boy who tried to blow up Hogwarts,” Lena all but deadpans. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re way more than Lex Luthor’s sister, and that’s just...really mean,” Kara says, words bursting out before she even pauses to rein them in. “I mean, you are so smart! Last year you saved a bunch of first years who wandered into the Forbidden Forest. A-and you never tried out for Quidditch, but sometimes you fly with Jess on the pitch and you’re so fast you could easily run circles around anyone on the Slytherin team. You’re the coolest person ever. Even when you were eleven, you—” Finally, her brain starts to catch up with her mouth, and Kara flushes hotter than she ever thought possible. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean for that to sound…stalker-y. I only know about the first year thing because Professor Grant’s son was new that year and I was supposed to be babysitting him. And then the flying, well, sometimes I go to the pitch with Winn whenever he wants to practice—”

“Kara. You can breathe any time you want,” Lena prompts, and Kara pauses to do exactly that.

“Sorry,” Kara adds, again, after she’s let her lungs rest a bit. Her whole body feels shivery from head to toe, like she is seconds away from fainting, and honestly? She just might. “Anyway. Um. I can replace that book if you want. Or I can give you the money and you can pick out a better one, since you said you weren’t a fan? Whatever you want.”

Lena is quiet for a beat. “What were you going to say before? About when I was eleven?”

Kara bites her lip so hard she knows she will inevitably have to ask Kelly to heal it later. “Oh, that,” she says evasively. “I meant, when you were eleven, and I walked face-first into the wrong wall trying to get to platform nine and three quarters, and you didn’t even laugh at me. You just...helped me up, and promised you would walk with me to the train until I found my family again.”

“I remember,” Lena says, and her voice is softening, as is her expression. “You somehow got lost between platforms seven and eight. Your sister was furious when she caught up with us.”

“Yeah.” And Kara finds herself smiling at that memory; this time it’s a real smile, and she couldn’t stop it if she tried. “That was really nice.” She wants to mention more—how even when Lillian Luthor scowled at Kara’s hand-me-downs, Lena complimented her right away on the shirt that had once been Alex’s—but all Kara does right now is step back. “I’ve bothered you enough, I think. Will you…let me know? About the book?”

“I don’t care about the book,” Lena says, and she swallows, loud enough that Kara can hear it. “Do you mean it?”

“That you’re...nice?”

“Yes.” Lena’s cheeks are a faint pink color, and Kara’s entire mouth goes dry.

“Well, yeah,” Kara says, and in that moment—with Lena blushing, and Kara’s chest tightening—they both know that she’s confessing to so much more than thinking Lena is nice. “So. Um.” She squares her shoulders, and prepares to be brave enough to live up to the Gryffindor name: “Can I buy you something that’s not a book? Sometime? Maybe on our next trip to Hogsmeade?”

“Like a date?” Lena asks, so impossibly soft, and Kara nods.

“Exactly like a date,” Kara says, and honestly, she should demand ten points to Gryffindor herself because her voice does not waver once.

And Lena Luthor smiles, just cautious enough to show how unsure she is, but still warm enough that Kara’s heart skips a beat. “Okay,” she says. “But on one condition: I’ll handle any magic until then.”

“Deal,” Kara agrees, and it’s official; breaking her wand might have been the best thing that has ever happened to her, ever.

[soulmate-game]

Harley’s Plea for Help: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

“How long do you think it’s gonna take before she decides to sneak out?” Nightwing asked over his comms, lazily leaning against the balcony railing in front of him with his head resting on one hand.

“Dude, I started sneaking out almost twenty minutes ago,” a girl’s voice made Nightwing squeak and turn around, to reveal a teenage girl leaning against the door that led to the balcony he was on. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by doing unnecessarily showy gymnastics down from my hotel room’s balcony, no matter how much fun that would be, so I just snuck out one of the hotel’s back exits. Then I looked up to admire the moon and saw you here, staking out what is clearly my suite, and decided to come pay you a visit.”

“How long have you been there? And how did you even get behind me? I hope you didn’t break and enter, that’s an actual lived-in apartment behind us right now,” Nightwing asked, turning around to analyze the daughter of Harley Quinn for the first time in person.

She looked just like in her pictures, of course. Jet black hair like her father’s, except it seemed to have a bluish shine in the light. And her eyes were definitely Harley’s— thank goodness for that —vibrant blue and clearly analyzing him with the same amount of intensity as his did her. He had to bite back a chuckle. In a turn of complete irony, she really did look like a Wayne kid. Fit all of Bruce’s usual criteria to be adopted. But she was tiny, even smaller than Harley’s lithe form. He, Bruce, and Tim were of the hypothesis that the exposure both her parents had to Ace Chemical’s vats of acid likely had an effect on her DNA that stunted her growth. Perhaps there were other effects that they wouldn’t be able to figure out until they got to know her better, too, though it was clear that her skin was a likely one. It wasn’t unnaturally pale like her parent’s after their acid dips but it was paler than normal for sure, just a shade or two shy of being paper white.

And he could see, now, what Harley meant when she referred to Marinette as a powerhouse. It wasn’t very noticeable in pictures, but up close Dick could see the carefully honed muscle of an acrobat curling over her otherwise slim build. Combined with the knowledge that Marinette had been taught at least some serious self defense from a young age, he could see how such a tiny package could be a remarkable threat when necessary.

Marinette grimaced as the other Batfam, who were all nearby staking out her room from different angles, dropped onto the large balcony with them.

“Uh, well. I didn’t break and enter, I rather not get off to a criminal-ly start on my first night in Gotham, you know? But I realized that even though I was able to figure out the exact room you were staking me out from, I realized as soon as I got into the first floor of the building that I had no idea how to actually get to you. So I just climbed the stairs all the way to the roof and scaled my way down to this balcony, and pretended I’ve been here for a while when really I was barely able to hear you ask when I was gonna sneak out. I’m still out of breath, actually,” she put a hand on her chest and sure enough her breathing was still slightly fast. But not enough to be worrying or even all that noticeable. Yet another piece of evidence to show that she was a very active individual and had resistance built up to physical activity.

“Yup,” Robin groused grumpily, crossing his arms. “With all that rambling, you couldn’t be anyone else’s child but Quinzel’s.”

Marinette’s face immediately flushed pink all the way to her ears. “I’m sorry! I’ve been trying so hard to quit that habit, too!” She grumbled a bit to herself, putting her face in her hands. They all chuckled at the display. Red Hood ambled over, draping his arm over her shoulders (he nearly had to bend in half to do it, the height difference was that bad).

“As adorable as your freak out is, why’d you even come up here anyway? There’s no way you’d scale down a ten-story building just to say hello.”

She let out a heavy sigh at that, slowly peeling her face out of her hands. “Yeah, I recognized you guys right away. And honestly, as much as Momma Harley would be super proud of me for managing to give an entire group of vigilantes the slip, she’d also ground me for life if she found out that I saw you guys and still snuck away even though she probably swallowed her pride and asked you guys to babysit me, right? Self preservation. Contrary to popular belief, I do actually have some.”

“Wait,” Red Robin held up a hand, brows clearly furrowed under his cowl. “You expected her to ask for our help?”

“Well,” she made a so-so motion with her hand. “I didn’t think of it beforehand, but it all clicked once I saw Nightwing. I know how much my mom is worried about me, especially since you-know-who broke out a few days ago. She is more than worried enough to ask you guys for help. Even if she does complain about you guys, a lot actually, she also has made it clear that she trusts you guys with the stuff that actually matters.

“‘You know who’?” Batman repeated, arms crossed. If Marinette squinted, she thought there might have been a grin on his lips. “Is that how you always refer to him?”

“What else am I gonna call him?” she asked, face going deadpan. “Sperm donor? Source of a large amount of my self doubt and depreciation? The prime reason I haven’t been able to see my mom in person more often over the years? Oh, I know! How about I just always refer to him as ‘that bastard I wanna punch,’? That sounds good!” she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Only one person in this world has the right to be considered my father in any capacity, and it sure as hell isn’t him. Genetics notwithstanding.”

Red Hood straight up guffawed at that, landing several rough pats on her back that made the girl stumble a bit. “Yep, I like this one! But as fun as it would be to see you give that jackass a mean left hook, it’s better if he never finds out who you are or knows that you’re here,” the vigilante’s voice got dark and serious very quickly. “He doesn’t forget people he finds interesting easily, and if he ever finds out about the connection you have to him, he’ll be a constant threat in your life.”

“I know,” Marinette agreed with a nod. “And if this conversation was happening two years ago, I’d say that my mom’s concerns aren’t unfounded. That I am too easily emotionally compromised and despite my deep seated issues and hatred for that man, I couldn’t guarantee he would be unable to get to me.”

Batman straightened up, as did all of his sons around him. None of them had missed the ‘if’ there. Batman’s voice went from charmingly deep to it’s usual gruff grumble. “What changed in two years?”

They all watched as Marinette gulped, taking a deep breath as she stalled for time, looking out at the view on the balcony before seeming to steel herself and return her gaze to Batman’s. When she did, it was suddenly full of iron will.

“I didn’t lie when I told Mom that I came to visit her— but that isn’t the whole truth, either. If I just wanted to visit her in Gotham, I would have waited until I was eighteen like we agreed. But I can’t wait, Paris can’t keep going on like this. I entered that contest because it was the fastest way to see you. I didn’t know if I would win, but… I had to take the chance. There was no way I’d be able to get to Gotham behind my mom’s back otherwise.”

“What are you talking about?” Robin hissed, stepping up to his father’s side. “Paris has been silent. If anything were happening, we would have heard about it by now.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Marinette corrected, never losing that ironclad look in her eyes. “Because a combination of magic and politics is keeping it quiet. No news about Paris’ situation is able to leave the city limits. Magic makes any non-native who leaves Paris think that everything they experienced was just a crazy dream. Natives won’t forget, but politics has all of us under very strict NDAs if we leave city boundaries, and all of our local news and social media is blocked from being accessed by anyone outside the city. But, I figured a little breaking of the rules wouldn’t exactly put a stain on my family’s reputation or anything, so,” she dug in her pocket and pulled out a thumb drive, holding it up for all of them to see. She swallowed again, but never stopped her eye contact with Batman. She held out the thumb drive.

“I came to Gotham to ask for your help. This sped things up, I didn’t expect to see you on my first night here, but two years in Hawkmoth’s Paris has really taught me how to roll with the punches. This,” she shook the thumb drive. “Holds videos of every fight since HawkMoth first showed up. It has all the information I’ve gathered over two years, tracks his movements and lists all his targets and— everything. But I’m not a detective, I’m a designer. I make clothes, I spar on the weekends, I am not good at getting evidence to prove that someone is a magic-abusing villain holding an entire city hostage.”

“We’re gonna need some details, Little Q,” Red Hood finally removes his arm from around her shoulders, instead crossing his arms and looking down at her sternly. “If your city has a villain holding it hostage, is anyone fighting him? And if you do have someone fighting him, why don’t you need our help, or why didn’t they call the Justice League? The JLE should be in Paris, right?”

Marinette snorted, face scrunching up in obvious distaste. “I’ll have to answer those a little out of order. First; the JLE was kicked out of Paris. They moved their headquarters to Italy about five years ago, I’m just surprised they apparently kept that secret from you,” she gestured to all of them, who indeed seemed very caught off guard by that tidbit. But Marinette just sighed and continued. “Though that’s a good thing, actually. We do have heroes, it started out as just a pair but it’s grown into a small team out of necessity. They didn’t call the Justice League because the last thing we need is any powered heroes coming in and making it worse— your league doesn’t have the best reputation for letting newer heroes take the lead even on their home turf, you know,” she pointed out, which made Batman shift a bit guiltily. He knew the JL was often a bit… heavy handed in their methods.

“What makes the situation so bad that you don’t want to bring experienced heroes into it?” Red Robin cut in, sounding as if the whole situation was a puzzle he was determined to sort out. Which, really, was exactly what Marinette had been counting on. She shot him a finger gun, grinning.

“That’s exactly the point! Hawkmoth uses a magical artifact, like I said— but this artifact can brainwash anybody who experiences even the slightest negative emotion. Sadness, anger, fear— anything negative. And it gives them powers, but puts them largely under his influence,” her expression twisted again, this time into a wry little grimace. “I guess you can say that my momma’s psychiatry background has secretly come in handy a lot over these past two years. And Hawkmoth is exactly why I try to tell Momma Harley to stop visiting me— I have worked my butt off to keep her from finding out about his attacks or getting Akumatized. Every time she shows up it gives me a heart attack!”

“Akumatized?”

Marinette waved a hand dismissively. “It’s the term used for when someone is turned into a super powered villain because of HawkMoth. The brainwashing— really it’s more similar to a straight up corruption. The person usually lacks their usual moral compass, and just seeks to soothe whatever set off their negative emotion in the first place. Usually, that means they seek a bloody revenge. And if someone who already has extensive training or extremely strong powers gets Akumatized, guess what?” She made jazz hands even though her face was deadpan. “Extra powers, or amplified ones, for the metas or superheroes who are Akumatized. And imagine what someone with, say, Batman’s level of experience could do if he had powers and no moral compass,” the silence that followed her words was deafening. She just nodded, knowing she had gotten her point across. “I’ve been working my butt off to stay positive, because if I’m Akumatized…” her shoulders fell, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. “... I have no idea what I’d turn into, but if you take into consideration both my training and my family history… it’s really best if we never find out what kind of magic-powered supervillain I’d make.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Nightwing said after another long moment of silence for that to all sink in. He gestured at her with an open palm. “You’ve been dealing with a terrorist for two years who targets emotional vulnerability, you apparently have never been corrupted by this magic at least to present day, but your mother still worries about you being very emotionally fragile. And your heroes are not detectives, which is clearly what you need or you wouldn’t have asked us for our help.”

Marinette nodded. “I used to be very impressionable. At the start of all this, I was a huge people-pleaser. I got attached to new people in a matter of minutes. My mom always said I reminded her too much of herself— but two years of fighting off a guy trying to get into my head—“

“Wait,” Batman nearly barked, taking a step forward. “He’s been targeting you? You specifically?”

Marinette nodded grimly, mouth a straight line. “Not from the beginning, but this past year it’s been painfully obvious. He might be able to sense the strength of people’s emotions, and unfortunately I don’t exactly experience my emotions very… gently. All of my emotions tend to the much more intense side of the spectrum. If that’s true, then he might know that any negative emotion I feel will make an extremely strong Akuma. Either that, or he’s going by process of elimination. All of my friends, except for one, have been Akumatized already. So has my Papan and my grandmother. But it’s obvious when he’s targeting someone, I’ve felt him try to override my will on several occasions. But I can’t just repress all of my negative emotions forever, so consider us working against the clock right now. That thumb drive has all the details you need about our heroes, how exactly Hawkmoth’s powers work, and so on.”

“Do your heroes know you’re asking for our help?” Red Robin asked, gaze burning a figurative hole through Marinette’s face. “Better yet, if this drive has as much information as you say it does, how did you get it?”

Marinette handed the drive over to Batman, who finally took it and tucked it in his belt as she answered.

“Momma Harley might have a lot to say about your detective skills, but you are all still strangers to me. So consider this a test of your abilities— I expect that you will all go to extreme lengths to verify all of the information I gave you anyway. After all, I’m still the daughter of your most hated enemy. Right?” She met each of their gazes, one by one, with a challenging one of her own. “You’ll just have to figure out my connection to the heroes on your own. And how I got the information, too. It shouldn’t be too hard for the so-called world’s greatest detectives. And maybe this can double as a trust exercise. I fully expect you guys to scour through every inch of my past, and dig up everything you can on me. I encourage you to try to find everything you can, so that hopefully you can decide to trust me on your own once you have all the details laid out in front of you. By the way, for your own sanity? I’d start with reading about all of our heroes’ powers and abilities before you watch any footage of past attacks.”

Red hood rocked back on his heels, trading glances with the other vigilantes before they all shared a nod. Apparently having decided their course of action, Red Hood leaned down and hoisted Marinette up into a princess carry. All traces of her previous iron will melted away in favor of the high pitched squeal of surprise she gave, and once more she became an overly flustered teenager.

“Alright, little cutie. Let’s get you to your mom’s place before she and her crazy plant lady fiancé come hunting us down.”

“I can walk! I can freerun on my own! Mon dieu please let me down! Eeeeek!” She squealed again as Robin slapped a domino mask over her eyes and Red Hood wasted no time jumping over the balcony railing with her still in his arms. The fact that they were lowered down by a wire wrapped around Hood’s waist didn’t seem to take away any of the fright that came with a sudden drop over an eighth-story balcony.

Part 1

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman (didn’t work sorry)

[xxxtrouvaillexxx]

Let’s Strike a Deal

A/N: This is late, I know. If you have not realized from before, I’m really bad at meeting deadlines. Well, at least deadlines that I’ve created for myself to follow because I like to procrastinate things and frankly… what am I gonna do to myself? Band myself from tea until I’ve written a chapter? I don’t have the self control for that! And life is hectic. But you know, enough with my excuses and onto the story. Hope you enjoy. I always love feedback so please be sure to leave a comment! ALSO I wanted to give a TRY (key word) to first person. If I don’t like it... I might change it, idk. I should never write anything at 3am as per evidence below, especially without editing lmao

Pair: CEO!Tom x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N, the small town of Hawkshead girl trying to make her way in the big city of Westminster, London. Not as easy as she thought. When things start to take a turn for the worst one afternoon and only one man in the crowd of hundreds decides to help her, she does something rather uncharacteristic and gives her savor her number in case he could ever use help of his own. Course, she never expected for him to actually call her out on it.

Masterlist

Warning(s): none… yet. Cursing?

Word Count:

My time was limited. There was nothing left that had to be done here or anything left to pack. Everything I’ve ever owned sat in a car on the way to my new apartment and last of the suitcases were in the bed of my brothers pickup at this very moment while I sat on the floor of my room. There wasn’t anything left for me here, I knew that, but it was still difficult to say goodbye to the place that carried so many of my favorite memories and the imprints of my childhood that still were splayed around the surrounding room.

There were two dents in the wall right in front of me from when I was ten and hit my head after tripping on one of my toys, thumbtack holes that littered everywhere above the bed from forts that I would make with my brothers and friends, nail polish that was spilled on the carpet from times when I was too distracted with talking than keeping the bottle up straight, my engraved initials on the windowsill. The memories that I had made in this room were countless and they were all absolutely priceless.

“Y/N!” I heard your mother call from the living room, her voice was slightly hoarse from held back emotion and it broke my heart to hear her like that. “You got to get going, dear! You’ll miss your train if you wait much longer to head out.”

Taking a deep breath and slowly standing from the, now old, bed I made my way toward the door, feet dredging behind me and scuffing the floor as I walked out. “I know, Mama. I’m just-” the words caught in my throat and I was at a loss. “I’m really going to miss you guys so much.”

“Oh stop it, you’re gonna make me cry if you keep on like that,” She said giving a tight hug before pushing me out the front door. “You are going to love it in London so much you’re not even gonna be thinking about us here, so get goin’. Your brothers already waiting for you in the car.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, “I love you Mama! I’ll call you when I get there!”

Jumping into the passenger seat of the truck, I waved final goodbyes from the window, dramatically blowing kisses as the car started to drive away.

“You better!” She exclaimed, watching as we pulled out and down the road.

“She is going to be a mess when I get back home. I can’t believe you’re going to leave me to deal with that alone!” Christian, stuck driving you to the train station much to his dismay, gave you a mocking glare. “After all the things I’ve done for your, this is how you choose to repay me? I’m pretty sure I’m getting the short end of the stick here,” he laughed humorlessly.

“Ahhh~” I cooed and smiled, “You’re only saying that cause you know you guys’ are going to be missing me so much!”

“Miss you?” He scoffed, “Yeah right. What we’re going to be missing is your baking. It’ll be the greatest blow our family has faced since 1824.”

I gave a scathing look, “And what, if I may ask, happened in 1824?”

“Don’t know, but something bad probably.”

»»-——————————————-««

I have never been so sore getting off of a bus in her life. The cheapest route to get to Westminster from Hawkshead was a train and 8 bus stops, totaling up to 10 or so hours in and out of vehicles. I groaned and stretched when my feet planted on hard asphalt for the first time in what seemed like forever. But, for all the soreness, I had made it to my destination with time to spare.

It was louder than I had imagined, crowded with traffic from all directions and people running any which way to get on with their lives. It was bustling and busy. Lively. Not exactly what I was used to which made me smile. 

Wide.

I made it. 

I only had a suitcase with me, the rest of her belongings would be delivered in a few days to the new apartment. 

My apartment. 

I was positively giddy at the thought. 

It took a lot of self control to keep from skipping down the side walks while I somehow navigated the new scenery, but I managed to keep my excitement under wraps for the time being. Arriving an hour early gave me a bit of time to take in the bigger sites near by, like the Ferris wheel, the clock tower Big Ben, and my personal favorite- Westminster Palace and abbey. It was a dream of mine since I was little to see it in person, and now here I was standing mere blocks away from the grand building, elated and amazed. 

Vibrating caught my attention and I barely managed to turn my eyes away from the sites in front of me to my phone, Kyra’s name popping up on the screen. My best friend and now room mate, Kyra Bardou, who was probably wondering where the hell I was now. 

“Hey,” I drawled with an obvious grin I couldn’t even hide in my voice. 

“Hey yourself! I’ve been waiting at the stop for 15 minutes with no sign of you only to learn you’re already in town and didn’t even bother to tell me!” She spoke so quickly I was shocked she didn’t run out of breath and laughed. 

“I’m site seeing, sue me!” I turned and started making the slow walk back, “I’ll be back in a couple minutes, I promise.”

She only grunted in response and let me walk in a comfortable silence, letting me continue to take everything in while simply enjoying her presence on the line. It was the last few moments I’d get now, the last bits of my old life slipping through my fingers like sand in exchange for a new one. 

And the chaos that comes with a big city. 

Like robbers. 

I couldn’t even let out a cry as I was shoved to the ground, my phone forced from my hand and my suitcase caught up in a strange mans arms. It took me a whole 5 seconds to get my bearings enough to yell at the man and give chase, shouting for help though no one so much as looked our way, just moved out of his. 

“Stop!” I screamed, running but quickly losing him as he bobbed and weaved through the crowd skillfully. “Stop! Someone stop him!”

And this time, someone moved to action, running past me at an alarming rate and quickly gaining ground on my assailant before they both rounded a corner and I lost sight of them. 

My heart dropped and I picked up speed again, hoping that I didn’t let them get far enough away for me to lose them completely, it would have been easy for them to get away from me here.

But when I turned around the block, I found the man on the ground with the track star of a man on top of him, already on the phone with I assume the police. I finally caught up to them and without thinking, hugged the man on the phone, a silent thank you while he spoke to whoever was on the line, before I gathered my things and hugging them close to me. 

He smiled kindly, finishing the call and turning to me properly while still pinning the thief to the ground. “Are you alright miss?”

“Yes! Thank you so much, I’d have been completely lost without this,” I gestured to my luggage. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me get it back. I don’t even know how to get around town yet.”

He laughed and nodded. “So new to town then. It was my pleasure to help, though I was really just doing what anyone in my position would do,” he responded kindly.

Furiously I shook my head, “No, you didn’t. I don’t believe I saw a single soul other than you move to help. Unless you did but beat them to it at the last minute. Not that that it implausible, you are seriously fast on your feet.” 

He laughed again and I noticed what a nice laugh he had, it was contagious and I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of my own now that my adrenaline was fading bit by bit. “Yes, well- I do enjoy the sport.”

“Dually noted,” I grinned, jumping a little when my phone started to buzz in my hands. Kyra’s name popping up on the screen again. “Shoot!” I exclaimed and answered. I wasn’t even able to put the phone to my ear before I heard her shouting my name on the line. “Kyra-”

“Oh my god, Y/N! What the heck happened, I heard you shout and then the line went dead! Are you okay? Did something happen? Where are you?” She was speaking so loudly I had to hold the phone away from my ear a safe distance as she spouted one question after another at me without reprieve. 

My rescuer across from me chuckled, overhearing my frantic friend. “I’m fine, someone tried to steal my stuff on my way to meet you. Luckily someone came along and helped me catch him, otherwise I’d have lost everything. But everything is okay now, we are-” I looked around and realized I have no idea where we were. 

He seemed to catch on to my newest distress and whispered, “Tell them we are on the corner of Tufton and Bennett’s Yard.”

I nodded and mouthed a thank you, “ Tufton and Bennett’s Yard,” I repeated and she said she’d be here in a 10 minutes and to sit and wait before hanging up the phone. 

I slouched on the wall of some building, letting myself relax. “Not to be repetitive or anything, but thank you.”

He just shook his head, “No need. You’re friend sounded pretty worried about you, it wouldn’t do well to let her stew in that worry longer than needed.”

“Yeah, it’s been a few years since we last saw each other. She’d be pretty upset if something bad happened before I could even move in,” I laughed, though it didn’t quite sound right even to my ears. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” I introduced and stuck my hand out. 

He took it and gave a firm shake, “Tom. It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N. Even in these less than optimal circumstances.” 

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you.”

“Y/N!” Someone yelled, and we both turned our heads to see Kyra sprinting full speed around her car and at me. I stood and braced myself for the collision of her, and fell back against the wall with the force of her body. 

“Holy shit, girl! You scared the hell outta me, you could have died! This is why I told you to call me when you first got into town, you always manage to get yourself into trouble like this. What would I have told your parents if something happened, huh? Huh!?”

I grinned and pulled back to get a proper look at her. Her black hair, normally frizzy was sticking out in every direction and her honeyed eyes wide as she scanned me over, running her hands over my arms for injuries. “I’m fine, Kyra. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, you’re right.”

“I know I’m right!” She shot back with a glare, “That doesn’t make me feel any better!”

“Well, there is a first for everything after all.”

Tom laughed hard at our back and forth, making us both jump a little and look down at him. Before I could even say anything, Kyra was down on his level with the thieves shirt in her fists and a scowl that would scare the devil himself on her face. 

“Is this the bastard that did this?” 

“Let go!” I shrieked and pulled her off, albeit with a little effort. “Tom called the cops and they’ll deal with this properly. Not you,” I said sternly. She just let out a huff of a response and pushed herself back enough to look at Tom properly. 

She gave him a once over and held her scowl in place, “So you’re the one who saved Y/N/N?”

He gave a small, hesitant nod and gave me a nervous glance. I just laughed and stood back up, as Kyra launched forward to give him a hug. “Thank you,” she murmured a few times and pulled back. 

“No worries,” he said, and looked far less distressed now that Kyra didn’t look like she wanted to gut him. “I was there at the right time is all.”

“Yes, well- That doesn’t mean what you did was anything less than amazing. My whole life is in that bag and in that phone at the moment. Seriously, if there is anything I can do for you in return it’s yours. Ice cream, some roller skates, a kidney. Just ask.”

Everyone laughed at that and he nodded with an obviously sarcastic “sure”, just as the police arrived to take the culprit and our statements. Kyra mumbled something about them being slow and went to the car for a few minutes to be out of the way. 

15 minutes later, everything was settled and they took the man away. Leaving Tom and I alone on the side walk again while I settled everything in my case to be sure I didn’t miss anything and quickly scribbled on a stray notecard. 

“I meant it when I said I owe you one,” I said and handed the card with my name and number to him. “Just give me a ring if I can ever be of any help at all and I’ll come running. Though, probably much slower than you did.”

He tried to decline the offer only once, but after some persistence he took it with another smile, “Thank you, Y/N. Hopefully this will not be our last meeting. And hopefully never again under such pressing circumstances,” he held out his hand, and I took it, returning his earlier shake with a firm one of my own and I agreed. 

“Until next time then,” he said and left. 

I barely was able to take my seat in the car before Kyra grasped my arm with a devious smile, “Y/N/N- Did you just give that guy your number?” My silence was answer enough and she laughed, “Girl! No way!”

No way was right, I thought with a small smile of my own as we pulled away and started home.

»»-——————————————-««

TAGS: open 

@drakesfiance @dumbgopher1​ @kewlbeans-22​​

[babiesdreams]

Nct reaction to their s.o having period pain part 1

REQUESTED BY ANON

Part 2 Part 3

--requests open--

Honestly all of these made me soft, but Yuta’s and Doyoung's 🥺🥺. Also I hope the anon that requested is feeling better 💕💕

Taeyong: You were on the bed, with your hand on your stomach, trying to think on another thing, to take the pain away. Taeyong, walks into the room after arriving home from work. When he first sees you like that, he doesn’t know what to do, because he didn’t know what was happening. “Are you okay honey?” He says rushing towards you. You nod, but your facial expression tells him otherwise. “What’s wrong?” He asks you, touching your forehead to check if you had fever. “I’m on my period” You say in a tiny voice. “Again?” Taeyong asks shocked. Your period is driving you mad lately, sometimes you’ll get it twice in a month, sometimes you won’t have it for months. You nod at his words and he rushes out of the room. After some minutes have passed, Taeyong comes back with a hot pack, placing it on your stomach, to relieve the pain. He sits down on the shair, next to the bed and grabs your hand saying “It’s gonna get better” 

Taeil: Taeil doesn’t know how to react. You’ve had period pain before, but never like that. You were squating, as the position made you feel slightly better. The pain on your stomach area was really killing you and your head pain didn’t help at all. Taeil squats right next to you and places his hand on your back. Since you’re on the street there’s no much he can do. “Can you get up baby?” He asks you and you simply nod, getting up slowly. He helps you get to a near bench, where you sit down. “Wait for me here” He says before dissapearing in the distance. He comes back a little bit later, holding your arm to help you walk towards his parked car. Once you’re sat down on the co-pilot sit, he helps you put on your seat belt and starts driving. “There are some hot packs on the back seat” He says reaching out with his arm and putting them on your stomach. 

Johnny: He’s prepared for this. Your period pains are something usual and he knows just how to help you. So when you’re on bed, unable to move, he rushes to the kitchen and prepares everything. He makes you a hot chocolate, takes a painkiller for the pain, a hot pack to relieving some extra pain, and prepares a bunch of pillows and a blanket. Once he’s ready, he prepares the living room’s couch to start a movie night. He hands you the hot chocolate along with the painkiller pill and puts on a romantic-drama movie that you end up crying with. Such a perfect plan. “Are you feeling better now?” He asks fixing your hair, while his other arm cuddles you closer to him. You simply nod and smile at him.

Yuta: “Omg what happened?” Yuta sais, dropping the groceries bag, he had previously on his hand, to the floor and runnig towards you. You were on a fetal position, on the cold floor, holding your knees to your chest and crying from the pain. He kneels down next to you and caresses your hair, fixing it. His eyes don’t rest, studying your expression and trying to understand the situation. “I’m fine, It’s just my period” You say in a low voice. “You don’t look fine” Yuta says cupping your cheek. He doesn’t think too much before grabbing you bridal style and getting you to the bedroom. He places your body on the bed, and the soft feeling of the blankets instantly makes you feel a little bit better. He puts more blankets on top of you so that you wouldn’t feel cold. And sits on th limit of the bed searching on google some ways of relieving period pain. You reach out to him with your arms and wrap them around his waist, making him fall on the bed, right next to you. He leaves his phone on the bed side table and cuddles with you until you fall asleep.

Kun: Kun had a whole plan to follow in this situations. He knew just how bad your period pain could get. And he didn’t like to see you suffering, so when this time of the month was aproaching, he’s be ready as hell. He knows which kind of painkillers you take, so he had a whole box ready, just in case. Some pain reliever patchs, for your back, as it can hurt sometimes and some hot packs for you to relax and have some sleep. So when you were in bed not moving at all and aching, he came with his backpack with all these things prepared. On days like this you always wonder what you did right on your past life to get a boyfriend like Kun. He would make the pain go away easily and cuddle with you right after.

Doyoung: He doesn’t know what to do. He’s never seen you like that, he actually never saw anyone like that. “Can I help you somehow?” He says wiping off the sweat on your forehead. You look at him with puppy eyes. The view of his worried expression and his messy morning hair meets your eyes. His skin is glowing with the sun reflexion casually kissing his flesh. You’re suddenly only thinking at the perfect view. You start crying all of the sudden, happy that you have him with you in moments like this. You wrap your arms around his waist, holding him tightly. “What’s wrong?” He says worried, placing his hand on top of yours. “I love you so much, Doyoung” You say in between sobs and he just smiles lightly, more relaxed now. “I love you too baby” He says tapping your head.

Ten: Ten is shocked at your state, he didn’t know period pain could be so bad. You were basically dying in his eyes, so he was hella worried. “Do I need to call an ambulance?” He says panicking. You look at him in disbelief. “No, It’s just my period” You say at him, completely curved, because you were unable to walk straight in your state. “I’m calling an ambulance” He says grabbing his phone, you obviously stop him, knowing there are people that need it more than you. “Okay, I’ll drive you myself then” He says grabbing his car keys and helping you get to his car. You eventually get to the hospital and get a shot relieving your bad pain. Ten looks satisfied with his job taking care of you as you start feeling and looking better.

Masterlist--requests open--

[taecalikook]

When the sea sleeps

summary : marriage should be based on love, but it’s not really the case with you and Seokjin. what’s more beneficial than two person who sworn off romances to get married out of obligation, right? but you should have known better, that keeping your heart straight from wanting someone like Kim Seokjin is next to impossible.

{fake marriage! au, strangers to lovers!au}

pairing : kim seokjin x reader

genre : major tooth rotting fluff, crack, smut(?)

word count : 23.720 (one-shot)

warning! mention of period and masturbation, daddy kink, big cock! seokjin, teasing, cock sucking, rough blowjob, deep throat, nipple play, oral (female receiving), riding, cum play, major fluffy love talk (?), dry hump, infidelity mentions, etc. ((omg))

“Hi, I am in the mart near our apartment. Anything you want?”

“Yes, please. I think we ran out of toothpaste and cleaning liquid. And can you get the usual donuts as well? Thank you.” Your husband replies meekly from the other side of the call. You hum in agreement, noting the order. 

“Will you be home soon?” You ask mundanely, a question based out of routinity instead of wanting an answer. Well, that’s just how it is with Seokjin.

“I don’t think so. Might have to stay late for work. You should head to bed first.”

“Okay, then. See you.” You nod and cut the call, shoving the phone to your pocket.

It’s been like this for the past two and a half years with Seokjin. Meeting him after being introduced by your mother, getting married after six months of vague dating, and then living rather as a roommate than husband and wife in your small apartment. Life has been good.

Well, it’s not like you are married for love.

Seokjin is 33 years old this year, and you are 31. Years ago, you weren’t really interested in marriage. You were fully capable of living on your own, not really interested in love and that’s about it. Even so, your mother never stopped sending you lists of men she’s going to introduce you to—but you quickly shut her off by busying yourself with work and all. 

Yet no matter how heartless you might be, seeing your mother crying her heart out before bed for god to give you a good husband and family, you finally caved and agreed to one blind date. She couldn’t be happier to give you the name of your suitor. 

Kim Seokjin. A 31 years old, living in his own apartment, working in a local bank as a manager. 

When you first heard about him, there’s no outstanding or over the top qualities he possessed, and probably that’s how you prefer him to be. Yet when you saw him first, there’s literally nothing else you preferred him to be.

“I’m sorry for this, but… I actually have no interest in marriage.”

He thought you would be slapping him across the face after saying such a ridiculous statement on the first meeting, yet when your face lightened up, he was not less than confused. 

“Me too! I only did this because of my mother.” You squealed in delight of finding the person that shares your pain. “I never intend to get married myself.” 

“God, I was scared you’ll take this the wrong way.” He finally sighed in relief, was afraid of offending you. “My mother, she is.. sick right now, and she has never stopped saying that she wants to see me married before she dies.”

“I understood that. And I’m sorry, I hope she’ll be fine soon.” You sincerely wished him well. As far as you were concerned, Seokjin looked like a great guy. He deserved better, anyway, and high chance he would be a good friend. It’s not often to see someone not too desperate to chase love after reaching your age.

After another hour talking about anything but yourself, Seokjin reaches out for the bill. “Are you up for desserts?” He asked with a thin smile, and you nod happily, thinking about the sweets you were about to consume.

That evening, when your mother asked what happened with the date, you told her that she shouldn’t expect more about Seokjin. Yet the day after, Seokjin messaged you asking for a second date, your mother was over the moon. And that was how you spent another six months in a vague relationship with Seokjin, where it seemed like both of you were serious, yet there’s no feelings attached. Seokjin was a best friend, and an outstanding listener, but that’s about it. 

One day, Seokjin asked about the idea of marrying you, whether you would detest the idea. And strangely, you didn’t. The week after, Saturday night you were just sitting in his apartment eating his homemade dishes, Seokjin asked whether you wanted him to marry you. After setting a few basic rules, and just like that you agree. 

That’s how you’ve been living with a bestfriend-like-husband.

Sex is absolutely off limit, and not that Seokjin has initiated it before. You are sleeping in the same bed, but Seokjin generously chooses the giant king bed that is rather disproportionate to the whole room to ensure both of you have personal space in bed. In the morning, Seokjin usually cooks, and you’ll take turns cleaning the apartment. You’ll water the small plants near the window, changing your bed sheet, and cleaning your wedding photo from dust. 

On Saturday or Sunday, both of you will have brunch together in the nearest cafe then lounge around watching netflix on your large TV. Once every month he’ll have a drink with fellow friends or you’ll meet up with your best friends, and meet with your parents or in-laws. 

Living with Seokjin is a series of routinity, and you actually don’t mind. Maybe you're already in the age when you are surreptitious, and had enough of surprises. 

After taking a long warm bath and getting inside your comfy sheets, you settle for a while in silence until a name comes up on your screen. Your mother-in-law is calling. You abruptly  rise to sit, pressing the green button. “Hi, mother. How are you doing?”

“I’m very great now listening to my precious daughter’s voice!” She gleefully squeals, strangely energized. You glance at the clock on your nightstand. It’s already ten. Now it reminds you Seokjin’s not home yet. “Seokjin’s father is having a birthday lunch this Saturday. You can come right? Do come by eleven, okay?” 

“Ah, I see. We will, mom.” You smile, internally noting the event to let Seokjin reserve his time. The talks then continue with your condition, whether you’re well or having sickness whatsoever—you know she actually means to ask if you’re going to give her a grandchild anytime soon. You answer demurely, not that it surprises you as your own mother has been going on and on and on about it as well. But how can you say that when you haven’t even kissed him more than five times in the past two and a half years?

But to think about it, Seokjin really has a great self-control if he really is not having an affair—for the lack of better terms—outside your marriage. Not that it would upset you whatsoever, it’s just not something you’d rather discuss with each other. Both of you agreed it would be okay to do whatever you both want, as long as you’re open to each other—but so far, nothing has implied otherwise. You somehow feel an urgency to talk about it, as you know Seokjin is a healthy man who must have his own needs as well—the one you can’t help with. 

After the call ends, Seokjin enters your bedroom at the same time, looking crumpled as ever. The top two buttons on his shirt are undone, face looks beyond exhaustion, and… the fly of his trousers is opened. You are unable to hold a sly smile.

“Are you tired?” You greet, and Seokjin nods, sighing deeply. 

“Today was pretty shitty. A client was being a jackass as per usual.” Seokjin throws his bag on the table, taking off his suit. “I think I’m going to take a long hot shower. You can sleep first.”

You hum. “Okay. I turned up the water heater, so you can go in now.”

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re a lifesaver.” Seokjin sighs in relief.

“You’re welcome. And Saturday, your father is having a birthday lunch and your mother asked us to come. Do arrange your schedule. And Seokjin?” You ask, and Seokjin looks up to you in confusion, waiting for you to continue.

“Your fly is open.”

“Fuck.” He curses and looks down, immediately zipping it close. “I hope I didn’t embarrass myself. And I swear it was nothing, I may have forgotten to close it in the restroom before going home.”

“It’s okay. You can do whatever you want, anyway.” You heartily giggle in amusement—with lots of subtle meaning behind words—settling back on your side of bed and hearing Seokjin softly closes the door behind him.

*

It’s already Friday, and somehow you still feel anxious. The day is closing soon, and tomorrow you’ll be meeting your in-laws for a family lunch, yet you are aware it’s not that simple. You have to pretend you have a real, conservative marriage with Seokjin, and it stresses you out. Not because you have to pretend to be in love—you’d rather think you’re relatively good at that, but having to lie to his parent’s face that Seokjin’s dick has ever entered you to get them a grandchild is nauseating.

“Why are you so tense, Y/N?” Hoseok chuckles, tapping your shoulder. “It’s Friday night. You should be all smiles.”

“Just meeting a few of my in-laws tomorrow. I’m a bit… nervous. That’s all.”

Jane who is sitting beside you immediately joins in. “Ah, that’s hard. My in-laws are jackasses, hence I’d rather steer clear from any family meetings. Why are you nervous? Are they annoying bastards as well?”

“No, they’re not like that.” You shake your head, confused on how to explain that you are not having a real marriage with Seokjin like most married couples. You’d rather not. “Well, I think I’m just having cold feet. That’s all.”

“You should come with us, then.” Hoseok offers with a whole ass large smile which shows his perfect teeth. “We’re having a drink tonight. No worry, we’re not going all the way to night. Just a slow one. You’ll be fine.”

That’s how you agreed to attend with a few of your peers, notably Hoseok and Jane who are your teammates, Namjoon from Legal, Jungkook from Accounting, and a few other friends you are only on name basis with. It surely started slow, and you gave Seokjin a short call before entering the bar. 

“Seokjin, hi. I’m out for drinks with friends, I’ll be a bit late, okay? But not too late though, only for two hours, three hours max.” You smile at Jungkook who is asking you to come. You gesture for him to enter before you. “I’ll give you a call when I’m done.”

“I see. Where are you drinking exactly?” He asks calmly. You quickly mention the name and address of the bar. “Okay. Let me know when you’ll be coming home, I’ll get you.”

“Ah, it’s okay! I think Hoseok or Jungkook can drive me home. No worry.”

“I see. Be safe, okay? And don’t get too hammered, we still have that lunch tomorrow.” Seokjin calmly reminds you. Probably due to the fact that you’re that quick to lose control, and the struggles he had to face on a regular basis to deal with drunk you.

Something inside you stirs at the remembrance of tomorrow’s event, but you quickly shrug it. You’re drinking to forget, anyway.  “Of course. See you!”

As it should’ve been easily predicted, you’re really loose with your alcohol control, especially with the great atmosphere and company. With Hoseok and Jane, one drink becomes two, and then four, and then in a blink, you lose count. You really should’ve predicted it, now drunkenly blabbering whatever inside your mind. Yet at once, you stumble on your seat and nearly fall until Jungkook catches you by the waist.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook checks up on you, staring at your blushing face, eyes hooded like completely feeling the alcohol dancing in your spine. “You look drunk, Y/N. Maybe you should cut the alcohol.”

“Yeah, I think I should.” You sigh, resting the glass back on the table. You rub your forehead. “I shouldn’t be drinking, since tomorrow I’m meeting my in-laws, and it’s.. fucking.. suck! You know why, Jungkook?” Jungkook shakes his head, amusement visible in his eyes while looking at you.

“Because they’ll keep asking about grandchildren.” You scoff. “They’ll keep wanting me to have a child, especially with the fact that Seokjin’s younger brother already has three of those. But how can I say it to them?”

“Why? Is there any reason you don’t want to have kids? Are you waiting?”

You hit the table with your fisted hand, aggrieved. “It’s not that. How can I when.. when.. I haven’t even had sex with my own husband?” 

“What?” Jungkook really couldn’t believe his ear. You have been married for more than two years and haven’t had sex with your husband? How is that even possible is beyond him. “Are you serious? Why?”

“Y/N.” 

Jungkook looks back at the source of the voice, finding Seokjin’s dark eyes looking at your figure, resting your head on the table. Jungkook immediately lets go of his hand on your skin. “Ah, sorry.”

“It’s okay. She must be drunk.” Seokjin sighs, circling his hands around your waist. Not that he didn’t expect it, but he feels extremely uncomfortable with the fact that someone else is aware of your little arrangement, especially with it being someone he doesn’t even know besides a name. “I’ll take her now. Here.” He says, slapping a few bills for your drinks.

Not even muttering goodbyes for Jungkook or other drunk people on the table, Seokjin instantly takes you back to his car. A minute of silence he’s staring at your face, Seokjin lightly flicks your head in annoyance before taking off, after ensuring you’re well secured on the passenger side.

*

“I’m sorry.”

The moment you’re awake, the memory instantly hits you like a truck inside your throbbing head. Constantly shoving drinks up your throat, dancing with Jane and Hoseok, and little talk with Jungkook. You also faintly make out Seokjin’s face getting you from the bar in your memory—right before passing out. God, it’s totally a mess. You really should avoid drinks again at all costs now.

“Are you awake?” Seokjin calmly asks while stirring breakfast on the pan. You nod, standing beside him. “The soup will be ready in a second. You can get our plates.”

Realizing that the talk is about to happen, you silently follow his order and prepare a few of the utensils on the table. You sit down to wait for Seokjin to join, and when he does, you are still waiting for him to open the conversation. In the midst of eating in silence, Seokjin suddenly breaks the silence.

“Do you want to have a child?”

Out of shock, you literally choke on your soup, the liquid entered the wrong pipe. Yet even when tapping your back lightly, he still has the nerves to laugh. 

“That’s not funny!” You scowl in annoyance, gulping the water Seokjin offered. Your husband is a total jerk, you really should’ve known.

“It is. And I really need to know, since last night you were talking to your friend about our sexless marriage in such a heart wrenching manner I just had to ask.”

You are silenced in guilt with the mention of last night, resting back the glass. “It’s not like that.” 

Seokjin cocks his head. “So what is it like?”

“No, I was just stressed about the fact that our families are pressuring us to have a child.” You sigh, never actually telling Seokjin about the pressure on your shoulder. “My mother even once asked me to consult with Obstetricians if my eggs are not working. Why didn’t she doubt your sperm instead?! Annoying.”

“Y/N. You really should’ve told me if my mother and yours has been pressing you to have a child.” Seokjin speaks in good nature, even with a hint of scolding. “I will let her know that it’s our decision, and we’ll have kids whenever we are ready.”

You nod. “Thank you. And I’m very sorry, by the way. Yesterday was a bit much, I know.”

“It’s fine.” He says, tapping the top of your head. “I’ll take a bath first, and we’ll go about an hour. Okay?”

And as predicted, the one that welcomes you and Seokjin even from far is Taehyun, Taehyung’s five years old eldest son. He runs with his two little feet with a light shout of glee until he clings to Seokjin’s thigh. “Auntie! Uncle! Hi!”

“Hi, Taehyun! How are you?!” Seokjin instantly takes him by the waist, bringing him up to his grasp and kisses his lumpy cheek. You are unable to hide a swooned smile. “Are you a smart boy now? Have you made friends in kindergarten?”

“Of course!” He squeals, and proceeds to tell him about his exciting kindergarten stories. You walk in, immediately welcomed by Tasha, Taehyung’s wife in a bear hug. “Sister-in-law! How are you doing? You look great.”

“I’m fine, Tasha, thanks.” You giggle in delight. You have always been close with Tasha, as she is a wonderful woman and a good friend as well. “You look amazing. And god, that hair is exquisite.”

Tasha laughs while sheepishly fixing her hair of light purple highlights. “Got a few dirty looks from my boss and Taehyung’s mother, but it’s all worth it I guess. Who said mother of three can’t rock highlights, right?”

“Absolutely!”

“You two beautiful ladies should come in.” Seokjin’s father beams at the two, gesturing to enter the house. “My wife has already prepared loads and loads of food, so I hope you’re hungry.”

“Happy birthday, father.” You smile, giving the old man a hug. “I hope this year is the best year that brings happiness to your life.”

“Well, a wish that this is not my last year in life is sufficient, but that is well welcomed as well.” He jokes, as the three of you enter the home. “Thanks anyway, Y/N. Greatly appreciated.”

“My granddaughters!” Your mother-in-law literally shouts, kissing you both on the cheek. “You both look amazing. My two sons should be thanking their lucky stars for having you both as a wife.”

“We are, mother. Every night.” Taehyung appears on your side, giving you a side hug of welcome. “How are you, sister-in-law? You’re doing great, right?”

“Amazing, Taehyung. Thank you for asking. I hope you’re well rested while taking care of the lovely miniatures of you.” You look at the three children, Taehyun, the twin Taejin and Taerin playing with their toys in the middle of the living room with your husband. 

“The sitter helps, of course.” Taehyung giggles, and Tasha elbows him with a scowl. Your mother quickly wraps the heart warming greetings and guides the whole family to be seated for the lunch prepared. And boy is the dining table packed with countless foods, not even including the dessert on the small table in the corner of the room. You just hope this won’t go to waste.

“No worries, we’ll be packing this as well to have it distributed to neighboring orphanages along with a few other donations.” Seokjin’s mother beams, sensing your worry after looking onto the countless plates.

An hour passes by quickly with the family digging on the delish in front of them. While chatting among themselves, Taehyung and Tasha hand their own gift to his father. “Here it is, father. Happy 65th birthday, hope you are always happy and healthy.” He beams, hugging his father. The large package is heavy on his hand, and your father in law laughs in glee.

It was a beautiful sight, yet you feel terribly uneasy. You haven’t gotten him anything, and Seokjin never discussed this before. How can you forget? God, you’ve really shame yourself and Seokjin in front of his family.

“What is this?” The old man questions and rips the wrapper.

“Open it.” Father quickly opens the package, and sees multiple items neatly stuffed in the box. “Healthy supplements and tea, warm jacket, acupuncture mat, few other things that can help you live longer.” Taehyung grins. The old man rolls his eyes, but nonetheless looks content with the gift.

“Thank you, son! Will put this into a good use.”

Amongst your panic of reaching out to Seokjin beside you, he instead takes turns in handing the gift of his own, an envelope, which catches you by surprise. He never talked about bringing a gift before. “This is from me and Y/N, father. Happy birthday.”

“What is this?” Your father curiously opens the envelope. At once, he literally squeals, unable to hide the delight in his face. “A two way ticket to Japan? Son, this is too much.”

“It’s not. It’s the least we can do for you and mother.” Seokjin says good-naturedly, like the precious son he is. You stare at him strangely. “Y/N and I also arranged a few stops that could be great to improve your health as well. No worries, there will be a guide as you’ll be on tour.”

“Thank you, son!” Your father and mother take turns hugging both you and Seokjin, and you only reply while in a hazen state, don’t know how or what to feel. As long as you know, it all comes from his pocket, and it’s his money to spend. You don’t even know why you feel weirded out. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Can you at least pretend my gifts are worthy too?” Taehyung jokes, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “The health supplements cost a fortune too, father! You’re being too mean with your reaction.”

“I’m just so happy my two sons are happy with their own family.” The old man beams in delight. “And your mother prepared a gift for you and Seokjin too, Y/N. Darling, you can give it to them, okay? I’m going to the restroom.”

“Why aren’t you giving it to me too?” Taehyung whines to his mother as Tasha elbows him for the nth time already. 

“You don’t get one because you don’t need it, Taehyung.” 

Seokjin’s mother quickly shoves you a gift with the largest of smiles, and truth to be told, you instantly feel uneasy. A gift in which you need and Taehyung don’t? An easy guess instantly comes to your senses. It must be it. There’s no other way.

“We’ll open this when we get home.” You turn your head to Seokjin, seeing how expressionless he has become. Is he angry? He swiftly takes the gift from you, resting it on the other side of the room.

“Ah, it’s good to. Just be careful using it, okay? It’ll be very helpful with the conception, trust me. It’s been passed down with generations.” Seokjin’s mother winks, looking very satisfied, yet you feel queasy, feeling like you’re soon puking your heart out. On your side, you can detect how silent Taehyung and Tasha have become, and you swear you never felt this pathetic and miserable before.

“Thank.. you.”

Seokjin holds you by the hand with his face is beyond enraged now—yet you know he could never be angry with his parents. He’s a mama's boy, and you like it that he is, but you really feel like going home and crying your heart out. But you have to endure longer hours feeling like total shit with your in-laws around.

“Father, mother, Y/N and I had to go home. I just remember we had stuff to do at home.” Seokjin curtly says, and you whip your head at him in surprise. You mostly did not expect it. 

“Why? You don’t really have to do it right now—but if you really have to, it’s okay.” Your mother giggles, content with the idea that you and your husband need to leave because both of you are going to fuck and give them grandchildren. God, your head literally throbs with the misunderstanding.

“Y/N, get to the car.” Seokjin mutters tensely, there is not a hint of emotion beside morse in his tone. “Mom, can we talk?”

“Seokjin, no.” You whisper while tugging on his sleeve. “Don’t do it.”

“Y/N, get to the car.” He repeats, like he is not up for any negotiation. You are scared of what he’s going to say to his mother. Is he going to say about the fact that your marriage is faux and is only done to please her? But that’s not what you want, just thinking about it makes you sick. “You can leave the gift here.”

Mildly confused at the sudden tense situation, your mother-in-law silently nods and complies to talk with her son. Against his order, you pick up the gift and move to give Taehyung, Tasha and their three children a parting hug. 

“Hey, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Tasha worriedly says, and you nod with a strained smile. “Be safe in driving home.”

“We will. Taehyung, thanks.” You hug the pouting guy, as he gives you a squeezing hug of consolation. 

“Our parents can be prodding like that. I am very sorry.”

Walking back into the room finding the confusing tense, Seokjin’s father looks at you about to say goodbye. “Are you leaving?” 

“Yes. I’m afraid we have something coming up.” You forced a smile, yet you know your father-in-law completely understands the whole situation.

“Okay then. Give this old man a parting hug.” The kind man then hugs you dearly like you’re a daughter he never had. “Thank you for coming. And I’m very sorry.”

“It’s nothing! Everything is great.” Like an idiot, you still try to lie through your teeth in front of the wise man—it’s ridiculous. “Happy birthday, father.”

Walking inside Seokjin’s car, you patiently wait another ten minutes until he comes in with an unreadable expression. And when he sits beside you, he heave a deep breath. 

“Is everything okay? What did you say?” You fret in panic.

“Nothing much. That it’s already tough for both of us now, and we’ll have kids whenever we want to.” Seokjin hums, glancing at the gift his mother gave yet refusing to comment. “I’m very sorry that I haven’t realized this before. I know it must be stressing you out.”

“Not really. I’m just.. tired.” You hollowly laugh, Seokjin slowly taking off the house onto the street. Spending a few minutes staring at the gift secured on your lap, you mutter—more to yourself. 

“Do you think we should just have a child?” 

At the unexpected question, Seokjin glances at you. Next five minutes are spent in deep silence before...

“Do you love me?”

The questions really create a ripple of shock in your whole body. You literally have no idea whether he’s being serious or not.

“W-what?”

“I don’t want to have a child when both of us know there is no love here. We both don’t love each other.” Seokjin mutters lowly, eyes trained on the road. “Let’s not put more innocent people into misery.”

Misery.

Misery.

You don’t know why that word hurts more than you thought it would, coming out from Seokjin’s mouth.

*

As expected, the things between you and Seokjin have become pretty frosty. Sunday morning, he excused himself to go fishing with Yoongi—his best friend of ten years, and you were thankful that you do not have to waste another second in his presence. Being with him is hard enough, not that you have to be reminded of the hurtful things he said.

Misery.

Yes, misery indeed. Having to marry someone you don’t have feelings for. 

But you thought he was a friend. Not that you chained him into this, and he was the one asking your hand in loveless marriage. He is being a total jackass. And you never should’ve said such nonsense. Having a child with someone you don’t love? Seriously? Even couples in love can end up in divorce because of kids—much less your ridiculous marriage.

And it sucks that this suffocates your whole being yet you can’t tell anyone, since nobody really knows you don’t have any attachment to your husband.

Well, beside...

“Hello? Is this Y/N?”

Listening to the velvety voice on the other side of the call, you instinctively gulp. Are you seriously going to talk to someone about this, more less Jeon Jungkook? You must be quite desperate. “Hi, Jungkook! I’m sorry to interrupt you. Is this.. an alright time?”

Jungkook chuckles on the other side. “Well, not really, but I can make it alright for you.”

You groan, instantly retracting your own will to talk about it to him. “You seriously did not just flirt with a married woman, right?”

“Of course not! Who do you take I am.” He giggles in mirth, and you roll your eyes. You really made a mistake by calling him. “I’m a bit busy now, but will be free in around… an hour. Do you want to meet?”

“I didn’t exactly say what I wanted to ask for.”

“I just know.” Jungkook hums, and you literally can imagine his annoying smirk on the other side of the call. “I’ll text you the details.”

You spend another seconds in silence, but reply nonetheless. There’s no harm in meeting a friend. Right? 

“Sure.”

*

“So let me get this straight. You—in this advanced, 21st century—agreed to a marriage where the both of you don’t even have little bit of interest in marriage? And all because your parents want you to?”

Now that Jungkook is saying it in front of your face, it does sound foolish.

“Is it.. weird?”

“What the fuck, Y/N. It’s not just weird. It’s crazy.” Jungkook scoffs, feeling the firsthand headache of dealing with the situation you are currently in. “I don’t know how much of a good daughter you are, but this is nuts. You are seriously chaining yourself to a relationship just out of pity, and because of someone else. You know that phrase ‘having only love is not enough in marriage’? You don’t even have that.”

Your eyebrows furrow, quite dejected that Jungkook really has to phrase it like that. The urge to defend yourself rushes unto you. “Yes, I know what we are doing now is silly, but I actually have no regret. Seokjin is a great guy, a good companion as well, and it’s basically just a living arrangement. I’m good.”

He sighs at your stubbornness. “You know, you could’ve been with someone else that you truly love. Did you realize that?”

“I won’t.” You answer almost instantly, doting the cheesecake in the middle of your table. “I’m not interested. I am living well on my own, and I don’t really think I have anyone for me. I am comfortable with myself.”

“And why’d you trade that precious solitude of yours with someone you don’t even love?” Jungkook challenges, and you take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Because if that’s how I can make someone else happy, I would.” You answer, looking back at Jungkook’s prodding eyes. “My mother, my father, have taken care of problematic me since I was a little kid. And now all they wanted is for me to have someone that cares for me, and who I deeply care for. And if getting married is the only way they can live and die happily… I’d do anything.”

Jungkook is easily silenced at your unexpected outburst, but it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulder after saying what you truly feel to someone else. It feels almost relieving, the fog living in your shoulder lightens.

“But you know they’d truly be disappointed if you are lying to them, right? Lying that you are happy. Lying that you love your husband.” He observes you in concern. You smile lopsidedly.

“Well, maybe in my case, a little white lie won’t hurt.” You whisper to yourself, sipping on your beverage.

*

After hanging out a bit longer with Jungkook, you found yourself comfortable being around him. He is a great guy, albeit annoying and too curious for his own good, he is nice and easy to talk to. You were never really close to him, and usually a rather closed person, but Jungkook is too good at getting you out of your shell. 

Walking out from his car, you are stunned when finding Seokjin is also getting out of his own, about to enter your apartment building. He mirrors your expression, a paper bag filled with foods and in his right grasp is his favorite donuts box. 

“Hi.” He greets with cocked eyebrows. “I bought meat to cook for dinner.”

“Ah, I already ate dinner.” You guiltily scratch your nape, glancing to the car beside you. Jungkook is just about to drop you off, but you have no idea why he is not leaving yet. “You went home from Yoongi’s?”

“Yes.” Seokjin points to the car. “Who is it? Did you meet with friends?”

“Yes. I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you. But he’s just about to leave—”

“Hi man.” Jungkook is somehow already standing right beside you as you flinch in your spot, and he offers his hand. “I guess I never properly introduced myself. I’m Jungkook, Y/N’s workmate.”

“Ah, Jungkook. We met before, right? I am sorry, yesterday was quite chaotic, I haven’t properly introduced myself.” Jin smiles benevolently, shaking the younger man’s hand. “I’m Seokjin, the husband. Do you want to come in? I’m cooking steak for dinner.”

“Nah, I already had dinner with Y/N. But I’ll take you up on that, though. Let’s get dinner another time.” Jungkook agrees, and gives you a light tap in the back as a goodbye. “Got to go, but I’ll see you Monday!”

“Bye, Jungkook.” You reply meekly and turn back to Seokjin, staring back at you with a strange expression. “Are you good?”

“Yup.” Seokjin smiles impartially, shifting his expression. “Let’s get in, you’ll catch a cold.”

*

In a way, Seokjin realizes that something changes with you ever since coming back from his father’s birthday party. You were usually a chirpy, active person, unbothered to speak your mind, talking about Hoseok or your patronizing boss and made the apartment as loud as possible with your late night exercise—yet here you are, silently sitting down on your side of bed, watching your favorite series from phone. 

And you clearly stated how you hate watching with your phone that he knows you are avoiding him—not wanting him to join watching it with you in the living room. And what irks him is this passive aggressive thing has been going on since last week, and it’s already Thursday. He desperately needs the old you back.

“Why are you watching it on the phone?” Seokjin asks, a vague irritation slipped in his tone. “The TV is good to watch. And you hate watching it on the phone.”

You are confused to say the least, blinking your eyes at him. Your finger pauses the show. He remembers that? “Uh.. I’m just… feeling like laying in bed while watching. Is there something wrong?”

“No, don’t lie to yourself now. You are clearly avoiding me.” Seokjin hisses, unable to hide anymore of his annoyance. “And this has been going on for a week. You didn’t even let me know if you’re coming home, and rejected that one time I said I’ll get you from the office. What’s wrong?”

“I told you it’s nothing. My work is the opposite direction of your way to home. It’ll be easier to go home directly.” You reason stubbornly, trying to make sense—even if you know you really are avoiding him. You don’t want to let him know that you are hurt by the things he said, and to be frank, looking at him pissess you off a bit. Like right now.

“Y/N, you know that we are too old for this shit. You need to tell me right now if I did something wrong.” He states earnestly. You roll your eyes, not feeling to drag the conversation and position yourself back to watching.

“You did nothing wrong. It’s just me, maybe I’m going on menopause.”

Seokjin huffs, looking at you already settling back to watching—yet he is too determined to end all this bullshit that he discards the phone you’re watching onto the bed. You gape at him, dumbfounded that he really did that to get your serious attention. “Stop being a child and talk to me like adults.” He scowls.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! I told you It’s nothing.” You shout, trying to get your phone back yet missing due to Seokjin’s quick wit of taking and hanging it far above his head. And poor you, that are seriously no match to his height.

“Give me back my phone, you jerk!”

“Might be a jerk but at least I’m not a 30 years old woman having menopause.” He mocks your nonsense, yet you are too resentful to give a shit that you literally climb on bed and jump to leech your whole weight on him like a freaking koala. Seokjin literally yells at your attempt of getting stable by clutching on his hair, pulling it to whichever direction you prefer. “Ah, get off me! It hurts and you’re heavy!”

“I don’t care! You’re being a jerk, and I’m a misery anyway, right? I’m just fulfilling my duties!” You howl, shaking your body that he shrieks, losing his balance and falls on your large bed. And like how most sleazy cringy telenovela, he just had to settle on top of you, but for one teeny different, his whole weight is now crushing your being like a sweet revenge. 

“Get off me! You’re heavy.” You screech like a petulant child, punching the guy on his broad ass shoulder. After a whole minute of finally begging him to get off, Seokjin finally gets on his elbow, giving a bit of space for you to breathe.

“I apologize that I upset you.” He gazes at you in all sincerity that literally leaves you holding your breath. “It was not true when I said that misery thing. You are not a misery. You are a blessing. The fact that we are married could be the greatest thing that happens to me, and I’ll never trade it for anything else.”

You are silenced, waiting for him to continue. “I was just pissed off with myself that I was insensitive about how everyone is pressuring you, and you are struggling because of this. I actually never thought about those snarks, and I thought you would too.” Seokjin softly claims, and you are near to tears that he literally speaks like honey. “I just thought it was off limits. I guess we should’ve talked more about this before.”

You sigh, looking down. “I do think so. And I’m sorry too—I guess I should’ve just said what’s bothering my mind.” You breathe out with a hint of guilt. “I’m sorry for acting like this. I guess that misery thing just got to me more than I thought it would, and.. yeah. Let’s communicate better.”

“We should.” He hums in delight. “You are cuter when you are less grumpy. You know that?”

“I am cute in any way possible.” You sassily reply, expecting a snarky comment as retaliation yet Seokjin’s lips curl in amusement.

“Well, I can’t comment on that.” He beams, and at that  your heart literally skips a beat. or two. or more than you can count. “I want to watch what you’re watching. Let’s watch it on the TV, your eyes must be hurting doing all these grumpy behavior.”

“Yeah, I do think so. It’s like.. exhausting.” You rub your temple. “I hate being crabby.”

“Yes. It doesn’t suit you. At all.” Seokjin pulls both your cheeks in different directions with sparkling eyes. You groan. “So don’t do that to your husband, okay?”

At that, you peer at him silently while he’s searching the series you love on the TV. The way he is able to easily soothe you is.. pissing you off.

“By the way, a new movie is premiering next week and I bought us a ticket. Wanna watch it with me?” He turns to you, still with the same adorable smile. And it literally sucks that something weakens inside you at that smile.

Ugh, there’s gotta be something wrong with you.

*

Another week goes and there you are, Thursday night about to head out after a whole day of work. Tidying your desk, suddenly a voice stops your wandering mind—it belongs to your desk mate.

“Why are you so happy today? You’re all whistling and it starts creeping me out.” Hoseok snickers, suddenly peering close to you. “Did you get a good dick down yesterday?”

“What the hell, Hoseok?” You groan, closing your laptop with a loud thump. “It’s not it. Can’t a girl just be happy without any reason?”

“No. That means you're crazy. And it’s coming from Y/N, the grumpies person on the planet.” Jane titters, joining your conversation. You started to doubt what kind of connection they had whenever it concerns you. “You must had a good sex yesterday. You know, I am curious on how Seokjin is in bed. Is he a bit dom? Looks a bit kinky, I have to say.”

“Of course! The way he acts is a complete giveaway, he must have a choking kink, or maybe bondage. Daddy kink is absolutely, by default.” Hoseok responds with curiosity. Jane snickers as you are busy gasping for air.

“And his dick?! You know, the first time I saw him, I immediately knew this guy has a big dick energy. I bet his is girthy—”

“Shut up!” You literally stop her from speaking, your palm secured to close on her mouth—yet unable to manage the blush weeping your whole face to neck. You feel hot and bothered. “Stop talking about such things! I am just in a good mood. Ugh, you two are seriously perverts.”

“Yes, okay, we’ll stop before you burst your flaming ear.” Hoseok singsongs, utterly amused by your reaction. You shot him a look. “By the way, tomorrow is a long weekend. Do you both have any plans?”

“Besides taking care of my child? Nah, bro. Might have sex if he’s lucky and stop running his mouth too much. And we had to stay in my husband’s family house. Ugh.” Jane rolls her eyes whilst taking her own belongings. “I’m just happy we get to have dinner tonight. Tomorrow is going to be exhausting as fuck.”

“Dinner? What dinner?” You are weirded out, most absolutely did not expect to promise any dinner. 

“My birthday dinner, of course!”

You whip your head towards the guy in a fancy red suit, completely looking dashing and silly at the same time. Well, that’s what you expect of him anyway, wearing such eye catching outfit in the middle of workday. “I sent the invites this Monday, and you said yes, Y/N.” He continues. “And you didn’t even congratulate me! How mean. But I’ll let you off since you’re cute.”

“But—but, I can’t! I have something else to do..” You stutter. Jungkook furrows his eyebrows at you.

“What? Watching netflix and eating popcorn? Nah, bro. You’re coming.”

“But, I’m serious! I’m sorry, but Seokjin is already downstairs, and he’s waiting for me. I can’t.. just leave him behind.” You weren’t going to say this, but Seokjin said he was craving lobster and asked you to go on a dinner with him. You really didn’t remember you had agreed to an appointment before with your workmate.

Jungkook stares at you in mild surprise. “He’s in the lobby? What happened with the two of you? I thought—”

“What are you saying, Jungkook? Isn’t it normal for a husband to get her wife from work?” Hoseok chuckles, and at once Jungkook is like awakened from his hallucination. 

“Yes, of course. My bad.” He nervously chuckles, avoiding Hoseok’s eyes. “But he should come! It’s only going to be the four of us, and Namjoon. He’s waiting in the lobby too.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a great idea…”

“Seokjin should come! It would be fun, you know. I want to have dinner with him.” Jane smirks, and you sigh loudly, knowing that this would end in a huge disaster and you’ll end up regretting. Yet you find yourself thinking of what to say to Seokjin. 

“Hi, Seokjin!”

Seokjin opens his window, smiling courtesy at Jane standing beside you. You remember Seokjin met few of your friends from work before. “Hi, Jane! Nice seeing you again. Are you heading home?”

“Not really. We are going to a restaurant! With Y/N too. You should come.”

He laughs, glancing at you. “Really? You didn’t say you had something to do.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot.” You frown in guilt. “It’s okay, I know we had plans—”

“No, I didn’t say that. We can come to the dinner with your friends too, if you want.” Seokjin chuckles, smiling dearly at you. You feel your breath hasten under his ministry. “Do you want that?”

Clearing your throat, you answer in nerves. “Yes, please. I promised to attend before, I guess I just forgot and thought I am free tonight.”

“Ah, I guess that’s why you’re all sooo chirpy today, aren’t you, Y/N?! I thought your teeth were about to fall off.” Jane beams, exhilarated as she elbows you. “Turns out you have a special occasion with your husband and forgot Jungkook’s birthday dinner.”

“That’s not it.” You glare at her, but she shrugs meaningfully.

“Okay, you two should head out. I’m with Hoseok.” Jane smiles and points at the blue car which you identify as Hoseok’s. “See you guys in a few minutes!”

“Sure.”

There is only silence in the car, when suddenly Seokjin breaks it with a question.

“Is it for Jungkook? That Jungkook—your friend that we met on our apartment?”

You don’t know what’s wrong, but your gut is telling you something is strange with his tone. You clear your throat of sheer awkwardness. “Yes. Today is his birthday, so he said he’d treat us to dinner.”

Seokjin seems uncomfortable. Living together for nearly two years has made you well aware of his small habit and gestures—by the way he clings on his collar, fingers tightening on the wheel as if he’s scared just shows you how he truly feels. At once, you quickly rests your palm on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Are you okay? You look.. nervous. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Waiting for the red light, he heaves a deep breath and closes his eyes. His right hand settles on your hands which were on his shoulder, linking each finger. “I’m fine.” Seokjin sighs deeply, resting both your linked fingers on his thigh. 

“I’m fine.” He repeats.

Now all you can hear is your own irregular heartbeat, with his warm palms against yours. 

And you wonder. What the hell is wrong with yourself?

After arriving, Seokjin still doesn’t let your hand go. And it’s all kinds of confusing, two years of marriage he never acts like now. Not even when going to your parents house, and it leaves you with numerous questions. And with that particular look on his face—it scares the shit out of you.

“Ah, here comes the couple!” Jane giggles, pointing to the empty seats beside her. “You can sit here. Seokjin, meet Namjoon! He’s in Legal.”

Like that, all your friends are engaged in a conversation—while Seokjin, he’s sitting silently with heads hanging low. You glance at him, concerned. “Hey, are you okay? You look a bit off. Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Yes, your husband looks like he’s not really good. Is there anything wrong?” It is Jungkook, resting his wine back on the table. All of the eyes are now on the both of you. “Does this not work for you?”

“No, I’m sorry. Just a bit on the edge, that’s why. Don’t worry.” Seokjin smiles thinly, tapping his palm on the table. You nod hesitantly, regardless of the strangely tense air with him.

Whilst ordering, you are skimming on the menu when Jungkook jumps in. “Y/N, you like the shrimp here, right? You should order it.”

“Yes, I am thinking that too.” You tap your chin, and turn to Seokjin who is still staring far at the menu. “But I want to try the duck too. Seokjin, can’t you order that too? I don’t want to eat too much, I just want to have a bite.”

Seokjin is about to answer when Jungkook jovially interrupts, “Hey, there’s no need for that. You can order all you want. But if you insist, I’m ordering the duck, so you can have mine.”

“It’s okay, I’m having what my wife asked me to. Since I’m her husband. ” Seokjin curtly responds, and you are flabbergasted at how discourteous he sounded. The conversations on the table ended abruptly. 

“I—I see. Suit.. yourself.” Jungkook blinks his eyes, completely bewildered at the hostile response. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be forward.”

You stare at him with multiple emotions rushing inside of you, yet he’s evidently trying to avoid it while shoving drinks down his throat like there’s no tomorrow. 

“You’re driving tonight.” Seokjin mutters to you between drinks, and it sounds more like an order to your ear. There’s definitely something off with him, and you’re terrified of finding out. You’re scared if it will change him, you, and what you both had together.

*

“Are you going to be okay?”

Jungkook glances in concern at your drunk husband beside you, his hand is at the top of your car while you’re on the driver side. “He’s drunk. You sure you’re going to be okay? I can come with you.”

“No, it’s fine.” You reply. “I think he’s just not in a mood today. There must be something at work, I’ll try asking this tomorrow.”

“But I don’t like how jealous he was at me. I was just.. trying to be kind and offer to help. As a friend. And he immediately snaps like that.” Jungkook scowls in irritation. “It was borderline obsessive. And it’s not like you married for love—”

“Jungkook.” You stop him with reprimanding eyes that he stops immediately. 

“I’m sorry.” He lets out a deep breath. “I never told you—or anyone about this, but my sister is a divorcee. Because her husband became obsessed with her.” You know where he is heading and are about to rebut, yet he continues. “I know what you want to say, but I’m just saying this so you’d know. They were in love. But you know it could easily turn to something else.”

“Thank you for your advice, but I know it won’t happen to me—Seokjin is not like that.” You mumble, somehow reminding yourself. It’s the first time Seokjin is like this, both of you were great at keeping boundaries, and were not even in love. You’ll be fine.

Jungkook sighs and smiles weakly, brushing the top of your head. 

“I hope so too. Get home safe, kid.”

*

Waking up, the first thing Seokjin feels is his pulsate, a straight pang to his head. It’s been a long time since he had let himself off the limit and trashed himself until he blacked out, and he regrets every single second. The hazy memory starts to invade his mind—about how rude he had been yesterday, especially to you—and it literally freaks him out that he jumps out of his bed, desperate to explain. But you are not sleeping beside him. Or anywhere in the apartment. 

“Fuck.” Seokjin hisses, bringing his phone and runs to the elevator in such hurries. 

Are you... possibly gone?

“Seokjin, what are you doing here?”

“Y/N. Where have you been?” He questions, a little bit loud.  He’s too caught tapping the elevator button that he doesn’t realize the other lift is opened with you walking out, soaking with sweat. “I wake up and you’re not there. You.. I thought you..”

“What did you think? I was just running a few laps since yesterday’s dinner was a bit much.” You shrug nonchalantly, taking off your earphone. “Aren’t you dizzy after waking up? You shouldn’t be out, though.”

Walking back to your apartment, Seokjin is trailing behind you like a disgruntled puppy—keeping his head down low as both his hands are clasped. “I’m very very sorry, Y/N..”

“What are you sorry for?” You ask, pretending nonchalance. Seokjin sits beside you with a frown on his face. 

“I was being a jerk yesterday? And I drank too much and you must have a hard time dealing with my sorry ass.” 

“Did anything happen? Can I know why you were so pissed off?” You ask carefully, afraid of invading his space. He shrugs.

“Something bothered my mind, that's all. Don’t worry about it.”

Seeing how sullen he has been with himself, you are unable to pull both his chubby cheeks to different directions. He groans loudly with each pull. “Yes, you were such a ill-tempered baby yesterday when you were drunk. Do you know that?”

He nods begrudgingly. “Yes, mother. I won’t do it again.”

“But apologizing isn’t going to solve anything. You know it.” You pretend sulk. “I think I deserve three wishes.”

Seokjin cocks his eyebrows. “Why? Why does it have to be three?” 

“Nah, I watched Alladin and it was good, so I was just copying—but that’s not the point!” You tap the table impatiently. “The point is that you embarrassed me in front of my friend and deserves a punishment. Now say yes to my three wishes.”

Your husband groans, tapping on his forehead. “God, I’m never drinking again. What? What is it that you want?”

“I haven’t really thought about it, actually..” You giggle while scratching your head. Seokjin squint his eyes at you in suspicion. “Can you give me a week to think about it?”

“No.”

“Five days?”

“Right now. Take it or leave it.”

“Okay, by tomorrow!”

“Three wishes all by the end of this day.”

“Fine! You are annoying.” You scowl, tapping your forefinger on your chin. Seokjin grins. “First, I want…lobster for lunch.” 

“Okay.” He holds the laughter upon remembering his yesterday’s request.

“And I want this new bag. I saw it on the newest catalogue yesterday, I want one. Buy it for me.” You send him a sugary smile.

“I see your wishes are getting more and more disproportionate.” 

You scoff. “But you promised to grant it!”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to grant it.” Seokjin rolls his eyes, resting his palm on your shoulder, skimming it until his finger hangs to yours. Your breath hitches at how it practically tickles your whole being. “Is that all? Are you saving one for now?”

“Y-yes.” You stutter, mind already turning blank that you forgot your last wish.

“Good.” Seokjin beams, swiping his thumb on your knuckles. You stare through his eyes, adoring the beautiful twinkle that sends butterflies knocking on your stomach. How could he affect you like this?

W-wait, are you hallucinating or he is really closing in right now? I-is he.. about to kiss you?

Against your expectation, he suddenly halts and snorts. “Now go take a bath, because you stink.”

You push him away, walking to enter your bathroom with a face that has gone vermillion red—especially listening to his annoying squeaky laughter from the living room. You feel terribly embarrassed. 

Did you really think he’s about to kiss you? And why the fuck do you have to act like a preteen girl having a crush on a classmate? This is literally super annoying how your body is acting strange—like you don’t even have control.

Ugh, you should never done anything dangerous with him again.

*

After having lunch in the lobster place, you and Seokjin drive to the cinema for the movie he pre-ordered last week. Sitting side by side with him, you find yourself hesitating. 

You want to hold his hand so damn much.

And this never happened to you before. Watching with him always ends up with both of you pretending to fight for the popcorn, and you’ll be far apart from each other—just like you’re watching alone. The movie’s genre is thriller and suspense, yet horror didn’t even take it for you to finally lean into him or anyone, yet that evening, you want to hold him. 

Closing in, you feel his shoulder closing on yours, leaning onto him as support. Seokjin looks at you in concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Y-yes! I’m fine, I just—“

“Is this movie boring for you? Or are you cold? You want more popcorn or drink?” He queries in concern at your jumpiness.

“No.” You murmur, embarrassed at your own thought. Fuck, what were you thinking? There is no possible reason at all on why you want to hold him, it’s not making any sense and it irks you on how conflicted you’re feeling. “I just… nothing.”

Glancing at you, Seokjin sees how you’re mouthing to yourself and hitting your own forehead with a deep frown—and he couldn’t bite his smile back. With one fluid motion, he loops his arms with yours and withers your small palm against his, tapping slightly the side of his head with yours. 

“Let me know if you need anything else. Hmm?”

You blush hard, the creep of warmth running in your cheek like a wildfire. Clearing your throat, you decide to focus on whatever scene it is, not realizing how Seokjin glances at you from time to time, a toothy smile creeping in his face.

Walking out of the place, you were a bit panicked on seeing Seokjin again in broad light, but he’s still not letting go of your hands around his. You don’t know whether it’s a good sign or not—maybe you’re just afraid of finding out.

“Do you want to go window shopping? Maybe you’ll find that bag you want.” Seokjin offers, you are about to discard him—telling who the hell is still window shopping these days, or your desired bag is already on your online shopping cart, yet you don’t want to say so.

Maybe you just want to be with him a little bit longer.

Walking hand in hand to around the mall, both of you stop at the high end brand stores. Seokjin is about to walk in when you stop him. “Why are we entering this place? This is out of our budget.”

“Who said I want to buy you the bag from here? I want to see it for myself.” Seokjin lightly jokes, blowing raspberries and you scowl. Contrary to what he just said, Seokjin is directing you to the female side, where the tote bags are stacked. You laugh silently. Is he trying to be a tsundere now?

He looks at you and warmly smile. “See if there’s anything you like. I’m going to the restroom first, okay?”

You squint your eyes at him in fake suspicion. “You’re not leaving me here and fleeing home, right?”

“Busted.” He giggles and you grin. “Wait here, I’ll come back in a minute.”

After Seokjin leaves, you find yourself walking to see the bags in hesitance. Yet you know how expensive they are, and it even scares you to fall in love with a bag and realizing how struggling Seokjin has to be to buy it for you. The thought immediately retrains you from taking the tawny colored bag which catches your eyes the most.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

You look back at the voice calling your name, and finding the person that hasn't even crossed your mind to be there. It’s Park Jimin, with his trademark eye smile peering curiously at you. “It is you! How have you been?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” You smile at him, a little bit surprised to see him here, even talking to you. Well, maybe the years of your troubling childhood does have its own reminder in the form of this man. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“Ah, yes. After moving from Busan to Seoul, I am just living my life, I guess. Got engaged a few years ago, my fiancé and I moved to Sydney for school, and I headed back for the time being for her.” He smiles jovially, letting you know things more than you expect him to. You nod with a hint of hesitation—a bit surprised that he’s still practically the same him from your childhood. Guess nothing really changes to a spoilt kid from birth. 

“Honey, I have five items already on the cashier, won’t you—who is this?”

The woman is peering closely at you, the evident staring feels deadly uncomfortable on your skin. You know that look—she is judging you from top to bottom, whether you qualify as someone she should feel competitive with. But you don’t really want to spoil your great mood from the morning and reply nonetheless. “I’m Y/N, an old friend of Jimin. Nice to meet you.”

“Hi.” She responds rudely, and turns to Jimin. “Aren’t we going after paying?”

“Wait, I still want to talk with her. You can use this.” Jimin opens up his wallet, giving her a card and she leaves almost immediately. “I’m sorry, she can be like that sometimes.”

You shrug nonetheless. “I can see that.”

Ignoring your obvious sarcasm, Jimin continues. “So, where are you going? Do you want to have dinner with us? We should meet up again sometimes, you know—“

“Y/N.”

Turning to the man calling your name, it turns out to be your husband, staring at the both of you with jaw ticked and cold stare. And Jimin is no different, completely startled with the fact that it is Seokjin calling your name. At once, you feel estranged with the tense in the air.

“Seokjin. Hi, this is Jimin, my old friend. Jimin, this is Seokjin, my husband.”

Seokjin is the one to answer, tone blunt. “I know.”

After long pregnant silence, Jimin clears his throat, and gives your husband a thin smile. “Hi Seokjin. Nice to see you again.”

“You two know each other?” You glance at both men with curiosity written in your face.

“Yes, Jimin was my junior in college. We were friends.” Seokjin answers with venom, and nobody can miss the way he pronounced the past tense. Jimin seems uncomfortable as well, trying to ignore the older guy and smiles at you.

“I didn’t know you’re married. When was the wedding? Why wasn’t I invited?” He laughs to discard the tense air, yet you can still sense the awkwardness coloring his tone.

“Ah, around two years ago, I think. My mother gave yours the invitation, but I guess it doesn’t work. It’s fine.” You shrug, keeping your courtesy no matter how much you want to shout what the fuck is going on with those two men.

“I am sorry, but I’ll send a gift your way. It’s very impolite of us.” Jimin offers kindly, but Seokjin cuts straight away.

“We don’t need it. Save your money to whom it belongs.”

You glare at Seokjin who is throwing his sight somewhere else. He never was impolite like this, and it stresses you out—the fact that you’re kept in the dark makes you feel like you’re basically second to nothing between the two of them. 

“Seokjin? Is that you?”

Jimin’s fiancé comes back with countless bags in her hand, and you can hear the loud enough snicker from Seokjin. “Ah, as expected.”

The girl looks surprised, to say the least. “What are you doing here? With her? Who is this girl?” 

At the condescending tone, you immediately turn defensive. She had no reason to talk to you and Seokjin like that. “Excuse me?” 

“Baby, don’t be like that. Y/N here is Seokjin’s wife.” Jimin murmurs softly to his fiancé, and the bitch still has the nerves to scoff with a sleazy smirk.

“Ah, finally. I am glad you finally got your shit together, stopped thinking about me and moved on.” She loops her hand around Jimin, rising her chin high. Your jaws are a second away from falling to the ground. What the hell is going on?! “And are you sure you can go here? Isn’t this too expensive for you?”

“What the fuck—”

You are ready to throw hands, but Jimin quickly pulls her away and so is Seokjin’s hands clasped on yours to hold you back. 

“Stop it. Let’s just go home.”

Hanging his head low, both of you walk to the parking lot in deafening silence. Seokjin’s face is now cloudy and dark, nose and eyes are turned red and you know he is this close to crying. You chest stings at how much in pain he seems. You have so many questions, yet you know he needs more time to figure out his own.

Trying to reach the car keys from his pocket, he can’t seem to find it and somehow ends up choking his own tears. Feeling terrible on how he must feel, you go to his side, helping him check his other pocket. “I’ll drive.” You softly say to him after, and he silently goes to the passenger side.

Night comes, and you stare at your bedroom door. Seokjin has been holed up inside the room after you both went home, and did not come out even for a drink. You knew he needed space, and you stayed in the living room to watch your series, but it’s been too long that you are on alert since this has never quite happened before.

You wake up from your seat, walking to the kitchen as you are about to prepare dinner. Mushing up your doubtful cooking skill, you cook a chicken pasta and union ring, even called his favorite donuts on delivery.

After all the food is ready, you knock on the door. “Seokjin, dinner is ready. Come out, will you?”

“I am not really hungry.” He answers softly, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t kid me, we both know you are never not hungry.” Your joke is met with no response. “Are you really going to be like this? Come out and let’s have dinner. I already cooked for us.”

A moment of silence. “Are you sure it’s edible?”

You scowl, albeit kind of relieved that his sarcasm is still in place. “It’s not, but I’m still going to shove it down your throat until you’re begging me to stop.”

Seokjin ends up coming out, and you immediately frown at him. His face is disheveled, eyes bloodshot red, trail of tears on both his cheek and his hair is all over the place. 

“Hey, you look ugly.”

He scoffs. “Thank you for the encouragement.”

“I am serious! You look uglier than that time we went to Bali and you shit yourself because of eating too much spices.” You giggle, and Seokjin hisses. Your way of consoling people is indeed very debatable. 

“I remembered Bali. Such a great time.” Regardless, Seokjin smiles fondly at the memory. It was for your honeymoon slash not really a honeymoon, since all you did was to spend your work’s wedding free leave. You and Seokjin registered for Bali’s backpacker packet where both of you were able to explore the true nature and culture of Bali, instead of staying in a five star hotel and fucking till dawn like most honeymoon. It was breathtaking, to say the least.

After settling on the dining table, you scoop a portion and hand it to him. “Eat. I also ordered your favorite donuts, it will be here in a few minutes.”

Seokjin gives you a thankful smile, acknowledging your effort to make him feel better. 

After a whole half an hour of eating in silence, you open a conversation. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He looks to you, and lower his sight back to his plate. “This is good.”

You sigh, folding your hands on the table. Seokjin might feel uncomfortable and you understand he needs time, but you also know that he needs to share it with someone else, or the feeling will drown him instead. “You know, there is no good keeping it inside.” You breath out. “I want to know what happened with you.”

A few minutes of silence. “How do you know Jimin?” He asks instead.

“He was my childhood friend in Busan, before his father hit it big and they moved to Seoul. We used to play together. He was a classmate, and my only friend at that time.”

Seokjin cocks his eyebrow. “Only that? Why does it seem like it’s not just friends? Like he really is glad to see you.” 

You shrug. “Yeah, it was.. kind of weird. You know how kids were. We were really close, and I kind of confessed… that I liked him before he went away.”

A particular hit on the plate causes you to flinch, a deep frown on Seokjin’s supple lips. “But it was in the past, right?” He confirms with no hint of playing, and you feel something settle strangely in your chest. 

Is it possible that he is jealous?

You chase the thoughts away and curtly reply. “Of course. I was 10 for god’s sake, I didn’t even really like him.” 

“I don’t even know why you like the guy. Was Busan really lacking in handsome boys?” Seokjin grumbles, munching soundly on the onion ring. “You should have seen me when I was a kid, I bet you’ll like me instead. I've been handsome since I was even a baby.”

“I’ve seen your schoolbook photo, but I’ll just go with whatever you say.” You giggle on his nonsense—even though he’s clearly not lying. He’s probably the most handsome person you’ve laid your eyes upon, that it was quite surprising he didn’t decide to fuckboy himself and settle down with you instead. 

Ten minutes pass in silence before you continue. “Can I say my last wish?” You ask carefully. Seokjin nods, a bit uncertain.

“Tell me what happened? With Jimin. And his fiancé too.” You hum, fidgeting with your fingers. “I just wanted to know, but it is okay if you don’t want to tell me.”

Seokjin sighs, rests his utensils and drinks the water before continuing. “It’s just.. hard. His wife, Dakyung was actually my girlfriend for a long time. We’ve been together since high school. At that time, she wasn’t really well off—his parents are struggling financially, but I was more than glad to support her getting the money to support her family.”

“We were together for like eleven years, I guess? I loved her very much, we’ve been through nearly everything and stood strong. I didn’t want to be with anyone else. I only wanted her. Being with anyone else never crossed my mind.” He softly explains, yet you don’t know why you feel yourself constricting with every word. It’s hurting you to see how pained he was, the beautifully carved words meant for someone else. “So around four years ago, I think? I bought an engagement ring for her. I was going to propose—but I guess you know the rest.”

“Did she.. cheat on you?” You ask carefully. Seokjin stares at you and nods, sadness written all over his face.

“I just found out when I was going to surprise her in her apartment. She… was in bed with.. Jimin.”

“What?!” You shouts in disbelief. “Jimin, your college friend fucked your girlfriend of eleven years?”

“Yes, and I don’t know what happened too, but at that time what I remembered was Jimin pleading for her to break up with me, and she said yes, asking for him to wait for the right time. But who am I kidding? It was a good choice at her part. Jimin is crazy rich, handsome and good too. Anything a girl wants, right?”

“Hey, don’t be like that.” You mutter, resting your palm over his as a consolation. “Money is not everything, and she’s trading that for eleven years of happiness with you. It’s her loss.”

“Maybe it’s not, Y/N. At that time, I realized that maybe it was indeed my fault. I, like a fucking fool, still wanted to be better for her. Even after I knew she was cheating on me, I tried holding on to her, so the next day I asked her to meet me and still proposed. I would do anything to make her happy. And as expected, she rejected me.”

“Seokjin…” You whisper, a tear welling on the corner of your eyes on how broken he must have felt.

“She immediately eloped with Jimin, and both moved to Sydney for school. But I guess in a way, I’ve never moved on. I was always trying to contact her, sending her emails or messages until she had enough and blocked me. I was depressed. The one that I loved for eleven years, left me just like that.”

Seokjin stares at you, meaningfully. And you’re about to hear something that breaks your whole being. 

“And then, I just knew I’d never love again.”

*

You don’t know what happened with you—and Seokjin, but in a way you’ve been distancing yourself from him, and the gesture is mutual. Seokjin never came home early, and not that you ask him anymore. He always came home whenever you were already asleep, and when you wake up, he’d be gone. Even with the current withdrawal, you still find breakfast on the table, courtesy of him. Yet you’d rather he not.

I just knew I’d never love again.

It hurts. It hurts like hell when he really said that he’ll never love again. In a way, you know you’ve been feeling something for your husband—that you crave for his attention and care, and to know that he might never reciprocate the way you want him to. Hurts like a bitch.

But it’s all on you. It is clear as crystal that love is not even the foundation of your marriage, so if anything happens to your foolish heart, it’s all on you. You shouldn’t have taken this lightly. You should’ve known that you are weak at heart, and you’ll fall for him anyway. 

Because he is the greatest guy you have ever met.

The compassion, kindness and caring that he has, it’s beyond comprehension. You don’t know how someone can be so understanding like he is, the way he takes care of you and wants nothing in return, that sincerely wants the best for you—even without love—succeeds in making you fall head over heels for him. 

God, you really are a fool.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You look to your left, seeing Hoseok scrutinizing at you in worry, now Jane is already beside him. “You’ve been whimpering since morning, and now you’re crying. Is there anything wrong?”

“Nothing, I am sorry for disturbing you all.” You swipe your tear stained cheeks, standing from your seat. “I’m getting some air, okay? I’ll see you guys later.”

Half-running, you enter the elevator and swiftly exit the building, trying to breathe as clear as you could—no matter how it might hurt you. God, you hate being vulnerable. You hate being weak. You hate being in love—an unrequited one, at that. Why can’t you just put your heart together? Why do you have to like him now, after two years of not caring whether he even fucked someone else behind your back? 

A whisper in your mind tells you that probably, these two years have been too great with him. Maybe, because he never gave you space for doubt. Maybe, you are already dependent on him without you knowing. Maybe, you take your feelings for granted.

“Y/N, are you okay? Why are you crying?” Someone stares at you in shock, and turns out it is Jungkook. His arm is around your shoulder. “I just finished a meeting and wanted to get  coffee and found you here instead. Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“Is it weird that I felt sad because I finally—finally have feelings for my husband? Like… this supposed to happen before marriage, right?”

“Oh, Y/N..” Jungkook sighs. “What happened?”

And like that, you fill him in on what happened between you and Seokjin, and it leaves him furrowing his eyebrows. “So.. you telling me that you think Seokjin still couldn’t forget his ex?”

You process his sentence for a while, and reply with a hesitant nod. Jungkook exhales loudly. “That’s not it, Y/N. I don’t think he’s still in love with his ex, he is... just scared. He is scared of the pain of his past, and he is scared of opening up to someone. Just like you. And with the way you are acting right now, it’s not fixing anything you both are feeling right now.”

“But he said he’ll never love again..”

“I couldn’t believe you even believe that bullshit.” Jungkook frowns. “That girl betrayed him. She gave him literally a thousand reasons to move on. He just needs time to adjust, and a couple of facts slapped to his face. He’ll come around.”

“Do… do you think I should.. talk to him about this?” 

“No. You can just shut up and hope he can read your mind.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, heavily sarcastic. “Talk to him, Y/N. You trust him, right?”

“I do.” You whisper to yourself, strangely motivated. “I do trust him.”

*

Well, it turns out trust is not a really firm base for confronting your own husband to the mess you made. After you called Seokjin to pick you up after work to get dinner together, he was visibly surprised at your request since you’re usually not the type to begin conversation after a fight—you never even asked to be picked up before. You yourself don’t even know whether it would be a good idea, but Seokjin’s easy agreement does make it better.

When you enter the car, he is the first to greet with a warm smile, and it reminds you that you haven’t seen it for so long now—you might even miss it. “Hey.” 

“Hi, Seokjin.” You let out a nervous chuckle. “Thank you for picking me up. I’m just.. feeling a bit out of it to take the train. I hope it’s okay.”

“Of course it is. I told you a million times I’ll pick you up if you can, you’re the one who rejected me.” He giggles lightly, glancing at you. “Thank you too.”

“For what?”

“For reaching out? I know past week we’ve been.. kinda avoiding each other. I didn’t know how to.. start since I was the problem in the first place.” He scratches his nape in shame. “I am very sorry, by the way. It was very immature of me.”

“No, it’s not. I totally understand.” You respond quickly. “And I didn’t know what happened, I have no rights to judge. It was your pain, and I am just glad you want to share it with me.”

Unexpectedly, Seokjin chuckles. “Why are you so sweet today.” 

“Let me know if you want my sass back, I’ll gladly serve it to you.” You retaliate, even your inside are churning with nerves.

“You know I accepted you for who you are—you can be anything you want.” Seokjin brushes the top of your head with a toothy grin that leaves you a breathy mess. 

“You are so cheesy today.” You respond briskly, noticing that you have arrived at the designated restaurant. Seokjin parks the car swiftly, and when there’s only silence inside, he turns on the lights on top of him.

“I have something for you.”

“What?”

“Look at the backseat.”

You glance at the backseat, finding an oak brown bag that somehow feels familiar. You quickly pick it up and open it. Turns out it is the exact beautiful brown bag that has catched your eyes from your previous window shopping session—before Jimin comes into the picture. You squeal in delight. “What is this?! Are you seriously giving this to me?”

“No, I’m giving it to Grandma Lee, our neighbor. Who else?” He smirks and you smack him lightly on the shoulder before adoring your bag once more.

“This is very pretty, though. How could you know which one I liked?”

“Well, let’s just say I know you better than you think? I practically know what you liked. This one greatly matches your outfits too. You know I have a great fashion sense.” He winks.

“I’ll let your last sentence pass because I’m very touched right now. Thank you, Seokjin.” You beam in joy, adoring the bag.

Seokjin nods, and when you rest the bag carefully on the backseat, he suddenly pulls you close for a hug—his arms around your waist, your chin settles on his shoulder. His spontaneity literally leaves you breathless, the heat is blooming around your cheek at the close proximity. God, you wish he couldn’t hear your drumming heartbeat.

“Thank you for being such a great friend and partner. I’m so thankful we are married, you know?”

You grimace in pain. God, the sound of your heart breaking is really audible in your ear. Oh, how you wish he had known.

*

And in the end, you are the loser in this game you played with yourself, because you most absolutely didn’t say a thing, yet you’re enjoying every second of being in love by yourself, making up scenarios and wondering if he feels the way you do.

It is ridiculous how greatly it has been played—considering how caring he usually is, yet it’s not even rare for him to say that you’re different in a way. He never explained in detail, but even you know what’s different. You started calling him frequently between work, asking when he’ll be home, his opinion on little things, or if he wanted to eat anything. It’s the small things that you’re hoping he’ll catch, yet it seems like something trivial for him and it lowkey upsets you.

One evening, you’re already waiting for him in the apartment, determined to finally tell him about what you feel—that you love him and hope he feels the same way. Jungkook was right—you can’t lounge around waiting for him. There’s no shame in starting first, especially when knowing it’s him you’re falling in love with.

Yet the clock strikes nine, he has not arrived yet. The food you prepared since six has already turned cold, and you start to feel wary, glancing nervously at the door—since he said he’ll be home around eight and is already late by an hour. You already tried calling him, but it is met with no response. His phone is on and well, yet he’s not replying. So you wait while watching the news.

Car crash. A man. Blue toyota. On the road of his way back home. You immediately reach for your phone, calling his number in panic.

Could it be?

*

It’s already midnight when Seokjin opens his apartment door, expecting darkness—but instead he finds you sleeping on the couch, phone clutched on your chest. He closes in, a thin smile formed on his lips as his fingers soothes the creases of your crouching eyebrows, but it somehow sends you flinching on your spot. You are now wide awake.

“Seokjin, when are you home?” You demand, as his pupils dilate of confusion. 

“I just arrived. Sorry, I was—”

“I thought you died, you moron!” You shouts immediately. “Car crash news was on, man driving a blue toyota. I was so scared it was you that I even called the police, yet they said the victim is still in the hospital, I couldn’t know the identity. I was so scared...” You don’t even know why you’re tearing up right now—but the emotion is overwhelming, you must be talking nonsense.

Seokjin blinks, confused. “I’m sorry, I left my phone on mute. I forgot to let you know...”

You don’t even want to hear the rest, as you quickly storm off to your bed and force yourself to sleep, muffling your cries. The feeling you had for the last few hours, the horror of thinking Seokjin might be laid in blood on the street is something you’d rather not experience now or ever. 

In a few minutes, you feel the bed dips beside you. Seokjin is there. 

“Are you still awake?” He softly asks, but you decide to ignore him and closes your eyes.

“I am very sorry. I didn’t know… this would happen. But I should’ve let you know.”

You clearly know what he refers to. You usually don’t give a shit if he’d even come in dawn, but now you’re crying and throwing a fit when it’s not even something to fuss about. It’s only you and your overreacting fear.

“Get some sleep, we’ll talk in the morning, okay?” He whispers as he tucked the blanket closer to you, stroking the top of your head carefully. 

*

The next morning, you wake up to the delicious smell of baked cheese. Unable to hold your scoff, you decided to stay a little bit on bed just to pisses him off. Frankly, you are still slightly vengeful for last night, with this urge to let him know your annoyance has not worn off.

So when he walks in and softly taps your shoulder, you are silent. “Hey. It’s already seven, you need to take a shower and come eat breakfast, hmm?” He persuades, but you turn your back to him, and Seokjin huffs at your petty acts, yet the guilt is still seeping in his chest. 

Seokjin sighs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t let you know work is unexpectedly late. I don’t want to make excuses, as I know it’s all my fault. I won’t do it again.”

At the sincerity in his tone, your anger quickly washes off, but still you’re doubtful on how to answer his apology. Should you just say yes? Or should you pretend anger?

“Hey, look at me.” Seokjin impatiently pulls you to face him, both his palms are on the sides of you. His eyes bore into yours, and you instantly turn stiff with his face so close. 

He takes a deep breath. “I’m very, very sorry, Y/N. I promise I’ll do my best in letting you know if something came up at work and not make you worry anymore.”

“I like you.”

You wonder whose word that is, but it turns out to be you. It’s literally you who said those three words that you have been practicing since last night. You didn’t even know why it’s coming out right now, it’s just the way he looks at you right now—it’s the first thing you want him to know. 

“What?” He looks mildly bewildered.

“I like you, Seokjin. I… I don’t know when or how, but I really, really like you.” You confess. You finally confess, yet the way Seokjin looks immediately puts you in horror. That’s absolutely not the look you expected from him.

He laughs with sheer awkwardness. “Of course, we are married. You know I like you too, Y/N.” Yet you know he meant differently.

You know everything will go south the moment you try to say what you truly meant, yet you don’t want to lie anymore. You are tired of hiding what you’re feeling. “I am serious. I like you, in that way. I might even love you. The past two years, we’ve been with each other and I seriously couldn’t be happier with what we both had. I know this is not what we both planned—”

“It’s most absolutely not.” He cuts, distancing himself from you, face filled with panic.

“—but I want you to know. I want to try this, Seokjin. I know you might need some time, and what I feel might be one-sided, but I want you to know and try this. With me.”

A moment of silence to tense that you can slice it to choke yourself—when it’s only you and him who is avoiding your gaze. He then scoots off the bed, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

 “I… I’m gonna go. You should finish your breakfast.”

And then he left.

The misery doesn’t end there. You never felt someone could be so physically close yet so far away like what he’s putting between the two of you right now. For a straight week he literally never came home earlier than nine, and when he did, he’d sleep on the couch. And fuck did it hurt to sleep knowing he is out of your reach. You never know love could hurt like this—maybe you trusted him too much with your heart.

Saturday, you left a note that you’ll be off to your parents house for the weekend, and even then Seokjin didn’t contact you. And coming back home, your parents fortunately didn’t fuss as much, maybe since you just said you needed time away from him. 

The night comes, you are lounging in your room when your phone rings. At once you quickly jump to retrieve it, frown when seeing its a social media notification instead.

From : @pjmin

Hi, Y/N, this is Jimin! Hope you are doing well :) [21:29]

I know this is a bit hurried, but if possible, are you up to meet for coffee tomorrow? [21:29]

It’s okay if you can’t, just want to talk and catch up while I’m in town [21:30]

Let me know! [21:31]

Albeit doubtful, you are indeed curious about what he wants to talk about, knowing it must have something to do with Seokjin. Unable to hold your curiosity, you agree to a time and place with him.

Tomorrow, you walk into the agreed coffee shop, finding Jimin already seated, sipping on his beverages. You carefully pay attention to him, and notice he indeed has changed so much from that average kid you met when you were kids. Well, not that you have any rights to comment though.

“Hi.” He greets with a smile after you are seated in front of him. “I ordered you something. Hope you’re okay with caramel frappucino. You still like sweets?”

“Ah, I’m fine with anything. Thanks. And yes, I still like them. Kinda surprised you still remember, though.” You joke. Jimin lips curls.

“Well, the memory of a kid eating four cotton candy in one sitting until she passed out from high blood sugar is not really something one could forget.” He giggles, and you roll your eyes. Well, your childhood is indeed not a pretty one. “It was rather traumatizing, I could say.”

After a moment of catching up on how he’s currently doing right now, you mindlessly ask him. “So, where is your fiancé? I thought she’ll be with us here.”

Jimin instantly dims at the mention. “Uh… We broke up.”

You stop your movement and gape at him in disbelief. “Seriously? Why?”

“Well, let’s just say once a cheater is always a cheater?” Jimin stares down at his drinks. “Not in that way, though. In the beginning, my family never really liked her, that’s why I’ve been holding off from marriage—no matter how much she pleaded to. We actually came back to get married, and get blessings. And just yesterday, my father sent me a whole report of her financial statement, slush funds, and everything. Well, there’s just too much thing she’s hiding behind my back.”

“Jimin…” You mutter, feeling bad for the guy. But still, you are unable to scoff at how blinded he has been. The girl is no doubt is using him for his money—and he just realized it now? 

“I know what you’re thinking. I must be a damn fool to just realize it now.” He humorlessly laughs, correctly reading your mind. “But maybe I was hoping she’ll one day change. I must be a total dumbass.”

“Yeah, you kinda are.” You had enough of holding back, and it surprises Jimin with your forwardness. You grin regardless. “But that’s okay. Everybody makes mistakes, right? We just gotta live with it.”

“Yeah.” He agrees with a saddened smile. “I know it doesn’t quite make sense telling this to Seokjin’s wife, but… I don’t know. I want you to know that I regretted it. I really shouldn’t have done that—cheating behind his back. Maybe this is karma, anyway. I deserved this.”

You sigh. “You know that you shouldn’t be saying that to me, right? You should tell it straight to Seokjin.”

Jimin sighs, like it has been bugging his mind for a long time now. “But of course he wouldn’t want to see me. And I have a flight tonight, back to Sydney, so I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

“Well, maybe an apology had to wait, then.” You shrug, and Jimin frowns. “You were his friend, Jimin. And I know if I were him, I’d want it coming from you.”

“I guess so. You were right.” He exhales loudly. “Thank you for that too. And agreeing to meet me. I’m really glad we talked. And don’t forget to stay in contact, okay?”

You hum with a wide smile. “Thank you too, Jimin.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot. I brought this for your wedding present.” Jimin crouches, retrieving a gift box as he displays a sincere beam. “I don’t know if Seokjin would like that I’m giving you this, but, yeah. I am very glad that you’re together. You guys seriously could be the best couple I know.”

You fiddly laugh when reminded of the current turmoil of your marriage. Well, he's better off not knowing, though. “You really shouldn’t have, but thank you for this.”

Well, you do hope that whatever Jimin’s gift is, Seokjin is still there to use them.

*

Sunday, you spend lounging on your bed, staring at the gift from Jimin, opened and stacked on your desk. You are still unable to comprehend his thoughtfulness. He gave you a couple bathrobe, a bottle of expensive Bordeaux Wine with two antique wine glasses. You messaged him thank you, and Jimin only sent a wink emoticon as an answer.

And then you are reminded of Seokjin’s scar. What happened with his ex, it was because he was too kind. He was too trustful, and it hurt to let go of someone you’ve been with for nearly half of your life and betrayed you like that. He is really the kindest soul out there—and then you realize that you missed him dearly. You wonder what he might be doing right now. Is he just as distraught as you are? Is he thinking about you as well?

In the middle of your wandering thoughts, your phone abruptly chimes. Finding an unknown number in the other line, you answer hesitantly. “Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N. This is Yoongi, Seokjin’s friend.”

It’s been a long time since you heard from him and you rise to sit, mildly perturbed. “Yes. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Not really. Apologize if I’m too forward, I know there’s a bit of problem at bay, but I know Seokjin’s dying to talk to you, and has been stressing about it since god-knows-when. He’s in my apartment now, can you… get him? Lounging in my apartment drinking is not going to solve anything.” He huffs lightly, and you sigh in distress.

“I know. But I am now in my parents house. Do you think.. I should just come?”

An evil laugh is heard on the other end. “No, that’s unnecessary. I know what’s even better that will help with this whole thing.”

Closing his call in daze, you are still waiting for the plan—but not even an hour in, a rushed knock is already heard from your front door. In a blink, Seokjin is on your bedroom door, carefully opening it. 

“Y/N?” He softly calls your name. “Are you… okay?”

Well, the scared look on his face does make you kind of guilty. Yoongi must have told him lies that you’re sick, and then he didn’t even spend another second and went straight to you. You have no idea what to feel, decide to hide yourself under your blanket.

“Hey, look at me.” He rushes, tapping the side of your arm carefully, but you are still unbudging. Impatiently, he effortlessly tugs the blanket off of you, until you are looking at him with a frown in your face. He rests his palm on your forehead, to your neck, baffled. “Are you sick? Yoongi told me you have high fever.”

“Well, I think Yoongi lied because he wanted to chase you out of his apartment.” You scowl, turning your face with a hint of blush on your face. You never know seeing him again could be this difficult. “I heard you’ve been a parasite to him.” You tease, slightly smiling.

“Yoongi, that disrespectful shithead.” Seokjin hisses under his breath, but it’s obvious that he is avoiding your eyes. He straightens and clears his throat. “Okay then. I think… I should go  home. Are you going to stay here?”

“Seokjin…” You call, holding on his wrist from leaving. “Are you angry at me?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I am not angry at you.”

“But you are avoiding me. And we don’t even talk anymore. This is not how we used to handle problems. What’s wrong?” You persist, determined to end this cold war with him. 

Seokjin sighs. “I am just… scared.”

“What are you scared of?”

“I am scared of disappointing you.” He is visibly downcasted. “I know what you meant, Y/N. But I also know that I can’t be… what you want me to be. I can’t seem to forget... her. I don’t want to hurt you, or myself. And I know It’s difficult, and I don’t want to put you into that pain. It’s better this way.”

“I never pressured you into anything.” You reply, your voice started shaking. “I just want you to know, and try this with me. And you know holding onto something that has hurt you is not going to work, Seokjin. Please, please stop hurting yourself and try this. With me.”

“I-I can’t.” He hurriedly mutters, intending to walk out before you hold him back, crushing yourself into his arms, your tears burst into loud sobs.

For a good ten minutes, you spend it crying on his arms, tears wetting his white shirt. You don’t know what you feel—you’re dejected, sad, disappointed, angry, too many emotions that overwhelms your whole being but can only come in tears when he’s around. “Seokjin, I like you. Why can’t you give us a chance? Are you… that disgusted with me?”

At the self depreciating cries, he quickly looks down, both palms are on either side of your face. “Don’t be like that. I adore you so much, Y/N. Don’t hurt yourself because of me.”

“There’s no way I can’t be sad if you’re still hurting yourself. I just want you to be happy—with me. Is that so hard?” You weep, hiding yourself back to his chest. “I hate this. You know how much I hate crying.”

“Then you shouldn’t have cried that much.” He scolds, stroking your scalp like he usually does—and you slightly feel comforted at his familiar gesture.

After another ten minutes just hugging it out, he finally leans into you resting his head on top of yours, taking a deep breath of nerves.

“Okay. Let’s try then. But please be patient with me, hmm? I’ll try my hardest for us.”

*

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

He shuffles in his sleep, but is unmoving. You frown, and call him one more time yet still met with no response. Huffing, you scoot closer to him, and clasp his nose to hamper him from breathing. At your disturbance he groans, finally opening his eyes. “Why are you waking me up now… This is still dawn.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have started getting back into gaming now. This is already half past seven, mister. Take a shower before you’re late.” You remind him, and as expected he already has two feet on the ground, running to the shower.

And as a kind and dutiful wife, you help him by preparing his outfits. You chose a nice blue themed suit this time, paired with a nice tie you bought him a few months back. Walking out with a towel wrapped around his waist, you are unable to hold your eyes from straying low. Damn, he really be packing like that, huh?

“What are you looking at, huh?” Seokjin squints his eyes at you, taking the prepared clothes. “Don’t look at me like that. I know I’m a whole snack, but I’m not a sexual object.” He jokes while wiggling eyebrows, and you scoff loudly when you can’t find a sassy reply for him.

You decide to wait in the living room, trying to calm your heartbeat. God, you’re such a loser, now even his bare chest can stupefy you like that. 

Regardless, you're more than content with the current relation with you and Seokjin. Both you definitely have gotten better, a bit more identical to wife and husband—even if it's probably only for you. You are trying your hardest for him, and when you know he can’t instantly fall at your feet and love you the way you do, you are satisfied. At least he’s not pushing you away.

“I’m a bit late for breakfast, but thank you for this.” He whispers, pointing to the pack of food you prepared for him. Noticing what’s missing, you pick the tie from his grasp, and circle around his neck and putting it on for him. He visibly stiffen on your arms.

After finished, you brush his suit’s shoulder and take a step back with a smile. “Let me know when you’ll be home, okay?”

“Okay.” He agrees and softly smiles. “See you.”

And then, he leaves a tender peck on your left cheek and exits the room. 

You literally can’t stop smiling the whole day.

*

One thing that you never really told anyone, is that you never had true sex. Like you had it once or twice in high school, but those annoying jerks never let you even finish and all you were left was disappointment. During college, you were too ambitious for your studies, so the thought of sleeping around was not on your agenda, and you never really believed in love or relationships. So when the thought of sex enters your mind this morning, it was quite frightening.

Having your lunch with only Jungkook, you decided to tell him your concern. He is quite shocked to say the least. “What the—you want to have sex with him? Finally?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” You exhale, pushing away your food in disinterest. “This few days we are making progress. So I don’t know—isn’t sex always the solution? I thought it would do some good for us.”

“Well, it’s indeed a solution for most problems, I would say.” He giggles between words, and you roll your eyes in disgust. “But I don’t know about Seokjin. I must say—the man really has outstanding self control. Sleeping on one bed with a woman for two straight years and still hasn’t initiated sex? Crazy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had been sleeping around before.”

The thought immediately darkens your whole mood, and Jungkook realizes his slips. “—or, he’s just a good masturbator? Nobody knows, Y/N, especially not me. Ha ha ha.” He nervously chuckles, sipping his drinks. “And the minority of men are not that much of an sex-fueled animal. He must be good at keeping his hands to himself, and please don’t mind what I said.”

What Jungkook said might be haunting you a bit that you request to get home early—when instead you’re going to the mall for shopping. You went straight to the ladies side where all kinds of bras or lingerie is available, but you literally have no clue what’s useful for your case. Already desperate, you finally call Jane for advice, discarding the huge probability of damage that you’ll be teased or ridiculed. 

“Oh my god! That’s very fun. I still can’t believe you lied to the boss because you’re preparing to bone your husband tonight.” Jane cackles, truly amused. “God, I miss those alone times with my husband. Don’t have kids too soon, Y/N. Be happy with your husband.”

“Stop rambling and help me pick!” You hiss, realizing a few stares has caught on you. She giggles, and then proceeds to help you pack home a black lacy three piece lingerie that will instantly shock your mother if she ever sees—which she said would ‘even spice up a fifty years old marriage’. 

You don’t even know how that’s possible, or why you even asked her for advice in the first place.

Waiting for your train home, you hold your shopping bag close to your chest, slightly  embarrassed. You don’t know what you should do then—should you just wear it and surprise him in the living room when he comes home? Or lay in your bed while trying to tease him? How does that actually work?

In front of your apartment, suddenly a call arrives. Seokjin. “Hey, Y/N. Work is a bit much today, I think I’ll be late. Will be home around nine, maybe. But can you wait for me? I forgot to bring my keys.”

Agreeing mindlessly, you sigh after ending the call, looking to the bag on your grasp. You really had a bad feeling about this.

*

It’s quarter to nine, Seokjin is already on the way home and you are already all cleaned up. You started with a good, long warm shower and shaves, curled your hair, and put up a light makeup. You even tried watching porn for learning purposes—but instantly grossed out after a few failed attempts at finding a good one. Well, maybe you should just kiss him and not say or do a thing you’ll regret.

Jungkook was right, though. There’s no way Seokjin can handle two long years without sleeping around. Yet even the thoughts of him sleeping with other girls leaves you qualmish. In the middle of your busy thoughts, the bell suddenly rings at the door. 

“Y/N? Are you there? Can you please open this?”

Walking with your heels on, your head is in haze at the thoughts of him seeing you like this. God, you start having second thoughts. Should you just run inside and change your clothes? But the remembrance of the price of this lingerie instantly blanches you. You’d rather be shamed in front of your husband than wasting his much money for nothing. 

“Good ev—what is this?”

Seokjin looks at you, visibly flabbergasted at your unexpected fit. Not even once that he would think you would wear something like this, especially for him—and now your face is already beet red. You are far too shy to do or initiate anything.

“Are you okay? What are you—”

Before he can say other things that will embarrass you even more, you quickly crash your lips to his, kissing it frantically while trying to make it as pleasurable as possible. Seokjin instantly gasps, his bag falling to the floor beside him. His hands rest on your back while you are focusing to make it as good as it can get for him. 

You bite his lips for entrance, and as he moans you slips your tongue inside, tasting the sweet beverages he just drank. At one point, he finally responds—kissing you back with tenderness instead that helps manage a pace that won’t leave you breathless.

Few more minutes of tasting his lips against yours, Seokjin finally lets you go, and unexpectedly laughs. Realizing how foolish you must have been for him, you quickly flee inside the room and jump under your blanket. You hiss and close your eyes, cheeks flushed at the remembrance of the kiss and his amused face staring at you—God, can you be more humiliating?

After taking a shower, Seokjin jumps on the bed and you instantly scoot yourself further away, with your back facing him. The silent giggle is still heard and frustrated, you sent him a glare. “Why are you laughing?! There’s nothing funny.”

“I’m laughing not because it's funny, but because you’re extremely cute.” He hums, probably noticing how the blush crept back on your cheek. You scowl in annoyance. “You’re so aggressive today, but how can you’re still so cute? What happened, hmm?”

“No, I just…Ugh, I’m trying here, okay? I know these past two years might have been frustrating to you, I won’t even be surprised if you’ve been sleeping around—”

“What? What are you saying? Who’s sleeping around?” Seokjin asks, puzzled. You bit your lips, looking down in shame.

“I don’t know, maybe because my friends told me they wouldn’t last without sex and I just… I thought you’re like that too. And we haven’t really talked about that, so...”

He laughs, pulling you close until you flush against his chest. He smells like oak and citrus and it entices you at once. “I haven’t been sleeping with anyone for the past two years. My last time was probably with a stranger when I broke up, I think. I don’t really remember.”

“Really? You don’t have to lie to me, I know it’s really—”

“I am serious. And why would I lie? I just… think it’s not right. To be truthful, I also don’t want you to sleep around with someone else when we’re married, I’m just trying to keep this as pleasant as it could be for us.”

Humming against his chest, you feel your heart warming at his considerate act. You really are marrying the right person—regardless of how unconventional it started. You can’t even imagine if it was someone else. Few minutes of silence just feeling his arms around yours until you speak and ruin the whole conversation. 

“So does it mean you’re a great masturbator?”

Seokjin laughs until his whole body vibrates. “Well, maybe you could say it like that.”

*

“So, are you going to tell me what happened last night?” Jane asks during your lunch with Hoseok, Jungkook, and Namjoon with a hint of teasing on her tone. “I am surprised you even came to the office today. I thought you’d call in sick.”

“What the hell—it’s not like that.” You hiss at her, hoping she’d get your subtle message to quit it. Jane groans.

“Come on, Y/N, we are all adults here. Tell us! At least tell me how many rounds. What was it like? Did you use any other tools—like ropes or vibrators?”

Hoseok and Namjoon literally choke on their drinks, while Jungkook smirks in amusement at your flushed cheeks. “Don’t say it. Damn, Jane, it’s not it! What the hell are you saying?!”

“Well, I mean you literally called in sick to buy a lingerie—that I chose, for those taking notes—which literally will get him hot and erected in no time. How can I not be wondering?! What was it like? Tell me, I’m a lonely mother of two, Y/N. I just want to know, hmm?”

“Yes, tell us, Y/N! How’d it go with your lawfully wedded husband?” Jungkook joins in, giggling in mischief. You shot him an unamused look.

“Ah, I remember those days. Fucking till morning with my wife. Well, before the baby arrives.” Namjoon sighs dreamily, and you are visibly repulsed at his sentence. “I agree with Jane, Y/N. I love my child to death, but I’d rather wait for maybe another year or two.”

“It’s not like that!” You hide your face on your palm. “There literally nothing happened. I wore that lingerie, and surprised him when he came home, but we ended up doing nothing but kissing. He laughed, by the way. Thanks for that, Jane.” You glare at her, and she shrugs.

“Only that?” Hoseok asks, uncertain. “You’re already wearing lingerie and nothing happened?”

You vengefully nod. “That’s really all. Then he took a shower, we just talked until both fell asleep. Done.”

Namjoon contemplates, fingers on his chin. “That’s weird. Hmm. You don’t even bother jumping in the shower?”

“You are an idiot.” You sigh, massaging your temple—even if the idea struck you in a way. Should you have jumped into the shower with him? But you did your make up and all... “Even kissing him was already—”

Jungkook quickly cuts with roaring laughter. “Wow, I never know you’re that much of an idiot, Y/N! Ha ha ha I’m hungry, does anyone want to order food now?” As others are focused on skimming the menu, he sends you a look, and you just register that you were about to blabber the reality of your marriage. You grimace and mutter your thanks to him.

*

Two weeks have passed in a blink, and you are seriously pleased with the way things are. It feels like the boundary has been torn down between you two, and pretty clear that Seokjin’s been making an effort for your relationship as well. Usually, you always feel the things he does is based on mere obligation, but you know it’s no longer the case for him. You can feel how much he cares and adores you—receiving your bear hugs whenever he comes home, holding you close before coming to bed, kissing your forehead whenever it feels right. 

Just like today. You are feeling a bit feverish, and when you reply to his message asking how’re you doing, he immediately calls.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks after the first beep, tone laced with concern. “If you’re not feeling good, you should go home. Do you want me to call a taxi? Or can you wait for an hour, I’ll take you home.”

“I’m fine. This is not really rare. I’ll be fine soon.” You giggle, even inside of you tickles on the wondrous feeling of him caring for your well being. “I’ll go straight home after this.”

“Okay. I’ll get you.” He reminds and you hum in agreement. “Stay put until then, okay?”

I love you. “See you.”

I love you too. “Bye.”

And while driving home with Seokjin, you don’t know why but you feel physically much better than before. It just feels so right with him beside you. Especially when you initiate to hold his hand, he lets go for a second and repositions himself so he could hold your hand better—you seriously think you could fall sick on how jumpy you’ve become because of him. 

“Are you sure you’re sick? Or you just need some attention, hmm?” He teases, lightly pinches your cheek. You huff in embarrassment. 

“You’re annoying.” You are about to pull back your hand to your lap when he holds it tighter. 

“Who says I wanna let go.” Seokjin’s lips curl into a hearty smile. You still maintain your fake scowl. “You’re just so cute, that’s what.”

“Why are you so cheesy nowadays.” You burst in laughter, unable to hold it back. Seokjin beams, and reliably parks the car in your apartment’s basement with one hand. Finally silence, it's only you and him with the soft engine sound when he pulls you to his arms.

“Thank you for loving me. I seriously don’t know what you see in me, but I seriously can’t believe that you really like me and want to go through this.” He exhales softly, his left arms holding you by the waist, his right stroking your hair. “I hope that you know that I’m trying my best here. But I don’t know why, it doesn’t even feel like trying. Everything is so easy with you.”

“That’s really cheesy.” You chuckles, but tighten your arms around him regardless. “I’m also very thankful that you’re giving us a chance. I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you. I keep on making a mess, falling in love when I shouldn’t—”

“Hey, don’t say that. I am really happy we’ve been through this, or I might always chicken out. Even if it could be better if I wasn’t such a jackass, but I’m still grateful.” He coos, pecking your forehead.

Releasing his hug, you are about to mutter something when he cuts with his lips lurching unto yours, cutting whatever sound beside loud moans. You are taken aback, falling a step back before steadying yourself by finding purchase on his shoulder. His palms are on either side of your face, pacing himself. 

You spend no time responding, savoring the tender taste of his lips. He tasted just the way you remember, sweet and addicting that leaves you wondering why you haven’t been doing this since the beginning. Catching a breath, he laps at your lips for opening, and as you comply, he roughly pulls you closer by the nape, tangling his tongue like he is a man starved all this time. 

“Did you eat a donut?” You giggle when he lets your lips go, trailing pepper kisses on your neck instead. When his lips ghosts to the succulent curve of your v-neck top, you abruptly pull him up to see you in the eye. 

“Baby, don’t. Not here. We’re just steps away from the apartment and we’re not getting reprimanded of public indecency.” You remind him. Seokjin scoffs, letting out a deep sigh.

“You shouldn’t wear this top. This is not good for my health.” He frowns as you laugh. “And what are you thinking, I’m not going to have our first time in this car. It was just an intro, so you better be prepared.”

“Ooh, consider me spooked, then.” You smirk in mischief. It is somehow proven by the way Seokjin cannot take his hands off of your waist, ghosting right above the bump of your ass while ascending to your apartment. At all the action you feel the discomfort between your thigh—high chance you are already dripping wet. You have been feeling exceptionally horny this few days, anyway. 

“And don’t think I didn’t know the way you’re invading my space and grinding your ass last night when we went to sleep.” He suddenly mentions the event that leaves you all blushing—especially with the other residents on the elevator. You elbow him right away, finger crossed they won’t hear a word he’s saying.

Arriving in your apartment, Seokjin doesn’t hesitate when he pulls you for a deep kiss, his fingers hovering on the hem of your top to detach it from you, flinging it to wherever. Your skin shivers when his fingers are in contact with your bare skin, and to your bra as he grabs the succulent flesh that leaves you a moaning mess. 

“Baby, wait. I need to go to the restroom.” You whisper between the kiss, when  the incessant throb quite overwhelming your good sense now. Seokjin huffs in pout but let go either way. There’s no way he will say no to whatever request you have for him.

“Don’t be long, sweetheart.”

Running to your toilet with a qualmish feeling on your stomach, you quickly discard your panties with a hypothesis—to have it confirmed by how it has been ruined… with your period blood. You hiss, the frustration building up in your head. You are just about to have sex with your husband after long days of pining, and you just had to have the period on the exact same day. There’s gotta be wrong with your luck.

Finally cleaning yourself, you walk out to find your husband is sitting on the couch, a visible hard-on from his trousers. At the sound of you walking out, he stands but to find your deep frown. “Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?”

“Ugh, I hate this so much. I can’t believe we’re about to do this but I got to have my period.” You run to his side, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m sorry for ruining this.”

At your visible dejection, Seokjin can’t bear but to giggle and it leaves you puzzled. How can he be laughing now? “Hey, it’s no matter to me. We can do something else about it, okay? I’ll take care of you. And we can leave that one for raincheck, so don’t be upset.”

Seokjin spends no other second in ravishing your lips while detaching your bra, discarding it in the same manner. His large palms grab the mounds, giving it a little squeeze before pinching your sensitive buds, especially now that you’re in your period. “Ugh, god. You’re so beautiful.” He gruffly mutters before taking your left mounds into his mouth, giving it a hard suck that you have to tug on his fluffy hair on how the pleasure has engulfed you. 

“Seokjin...” You moan his name as he shifts to the other mounds, his other hand strays to your clothed core, giving it a feathery touch before he pushes his digits. You bit your lips, holding back a sound.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart. I want to hear all of you tonight.” He reminds. You nod, feeling your mind has clouded in haze and all you can feel is how great he is with his deed.

Noticing how he has been focusing on your pleasure and satisfaction, you push him back to the couch, your knees on the wooden floor before taking a ride for yourself by opening the fly of his trousers. Seokjin gasps at your cold hands on his erected cock before it springs free in all its glory. 

“God, you’re so big. I’m not sure if I can take you end when this fucking period is over.” You are shocked at the size of his girthy dick, the precum is already leaking and you can feel your saliva swimming in your mouth—desperate for a taste.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I told you I’ll take care of you, okay?” He comforts, before his tone drops. “Now suck on my cock like you’re a bitch in heat.”

You give a kittish lap on the slit, tasting the saltiness that is unfamiliar to your tongue, but is easy to discard when encouraged by the moan he is letting out with such favor. Noticing that it might hurt him to be blown without proper preparation, you spit on his dick, before giving him a sensual pump. “Fuck, Y/N, where did you learn to do that—god!” He moans in rapture. 

Your mouth closes in, sucking on the tip before taking him in your mouth. You run your tongue along the vein of his beautiful cock, wrapping your lips tight around it, feeling how it throbs in your mouth. “Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop.” He hisses, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. But for the intention of teasing, you’re detaching your lips, going to the ridge of his cock’s length for a lick.

“Damn it, baby, why are you such a tease.” He groans, but is cut with your palm wrapping around his dick, the other slides up to his ball. You can feel a new wave of arousal coming out from your pussy. “Now let me fuck your throat.” He stoutly orders with hooded eyes, forcing your mouth back to take in his red tip and length until it hits the back of your throat—resulting in a gag. Seokjin gathers your hair, helping it out of your way before he raises his hips, feeling the wondrous feeling of your mouth clamming on his dick.

“Don’t flex your throat, sweetheart. Relax, okay? Tell me if you want to stop.” He stares at you, and you nod. You fucking love this, and you’d literally do anything to make him satisfied tonight. Your throat relaxes, and you savor his satisfied groans after feeling the back walls of your throat, with the tears streaking your cheek at his pace and feeling the burn. 

“O-oh g-god, F-fuck y-yes.” Seokjin pants, each syllable coming out as he thrust into your throat. “Look at me, sweetheart. I want to see your pretty face while I fucked your mouth hard.” He angles you better until he is satisfied, the lewd image of his cock stuffed into your mouth instantly sends him jerking faster.

A throaty moan slips out of you, and the action successfully sends him to his edge, feeling the vibrations cause his cock to throb in your pretty mouth. “Fuck, this is amazing. You’re so fucking great.” The compliments earns him another groan from you, and it ignites the leading to his awaited orgasm.

Few other thrusts in your throat, you finally feel Seokjin constricting inside of you. He’s about to come, and you’re expecting him to release his load for you to swallow—you were prepared, overall—but unexpectedly he retracts from your mouth, instead jerking off in immaculate pace, and the loss of his dick leaves hollowness inside your throat. “I wanna cum on your tits, baby.” He gruffly whispers.

“Give it to me, daddy.” You persuade, as he pants, still working on his red cock—on the edge of his orgasm. Yet not even once he turns his gaze from you, all red and high with lust hooded in your eyes, the trace of tears on the side of cheek, the swole of your plump lips coated in his pre cum and spit. You look surreal. 

“Fuck-fuck! You’re so fucking beautiful.” He hisses, increasing the pace of his pumps before releasing his massive loads on your tits, painting it white. You look down to yourself, feeling his cum trickles down to your nipples and to your thigh. You swipe the liquid with your forefinger, before lapping it clean inside your mouth, internally revolting at the taste.

“Damn, this is crazy. How the fuck you are so good at that.” He sighs in delight, looking at you with lidded eyes and evident aftersex glow. “Let me clean you up.” He reaches for the tissue, cleaning his loads on your breast. Both of you involuntary laughs at the current event. 

“Come here.” He crouches down, scoops you into his hold before moving to the bedroom. You abruptly circle your arm around his neck, he closes in for your lips for another make out session on bed. While his tongue is lapping at your own, his fingers move to stimulate you with your hardened nipple until your breath is rigged. His right finger cups your clothed core, giving it a welcomed pressure and humping it until you’re left with moans and satisfied sighs, your finger clutches on his hair, tugging it lightly. 

Seokjin’s lips advanced to your ear,giving it a kittish lick. “And you better be prepared, I will eat you out and fuck you all night afer your period is done, sweetheart..”

*

It’s finally Friday, and you are at your desk for work after lunch. Suddenly, Jane closes in at you. “What are you looking at that seriously?” She inquires, noticing you’ve been staring at the calendar on your desk for longer than anyone should. You turn to her, and shake your head silently. 

“No, I just realized that it's soon December.”

“So?”

“It’s soon will be Seokjin’s birthday. He’s turning 34.”

Jane nods in understanding. “Will you get him anything?”

“I don’t know.” You tap your chin, thinking of what to get him. You’ve been scrolling through commerce websites, yet to find even an idea about what to give to him. And it hits you—maybe you don’t really know him after all. “What did you get your husband for his birthday?”

She chuckles. “Last birthday I gave him a responsibility of a lifetime—my pregnancy test came out positive. I wouldn’t say it was a very good birthday present though, as we didn’t really expect a pregnancy after all.”

It dims you right away. Pregnancy? It is too far fetched, right? You haven’t even discussed it with Seokjin—and you don’t want to directly throw him a responsibility for another life being when your romantic relationship has basically just started. Days after days of late nights humping and blowjobs, waiting for your period is over is not basically a very firm foundation for having kids. You don’t even know if you’re ready for it.

And today is the last day of your period. Seokjin has actually asked if you want a dinner together—and you said yes. Based on his promise, today should also be the day you will be making love till dawn. But this dampens your mood a bit, at the thought of having kids frightens you. 

Scrolling through instagram, you see that Tasha, your sister-in-law has posted a series of photos from the previous birthday lunch of your father-in-law. The first photo is the five of them smiling together, the second is their three children with the grandparents, and the next one is Seokjin, smiling while he’s caging Taehyun’s little frame inside his arms. You smile longingly at that. Nobody can deny it though—Seokjin is amazing with kids, you know how much he loves them. And there are countless times you pity him for marrying you—as children were never part of your plan before.

But now you love him. And so does he.

And the thoughts have been haunting you that even when you’re seated in front of him in a high class restaurant, Seokjin can sense something is bothering your mind. He holds you by the hand across the table, and how you instinctively flinch confirms his suspicion. 

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

You smile nervously at him, shrugging. “I am fine, but yeah.. Something is just.. bugging my mind, that’s all.”

“What is it?” He asks softly, a bit worried. “Don’t you like this place? Are you cold? You’re not sick, right?”

“It’s not it.” You giggle at his cute attention. “I just... you know, I saw the date and realized that you’re having a birthday soon. I just don’t know what to get you. A bit upset that maybe it feels like I don’t know you that well, that’s all.”

His face lightens at that, the creases of his smile evident. “No, you don’t have to get me anything. I’m just happy with what we have right now.” He gazes at you, pulling your hands to give it a light kiss. “I am just.. very thankful that you’re here.”

“But I want to give you something.” You frown, looking down. “It feels like you’re always taking care of me, and I’m always at the receiving end.”

“Why are—Y/N, you are the most selfless person I know. The way you take care of me just shows how much I owe you with anything I have. I want to make you happy, as you already made me the happiest I can be.” He explains in rush, like he’ll suffocate if you don’t realize how precious you are to him any time soon.

“Thank you.” You gratefully replies, holding back the tears from falling.

The next two hours, you’re already in bed with Seokjin on top of you, both your clothes are far long discarded on the floor. His palm is grabbing your succulent mounds, his right palm on the bed beside your face. His lips are lapping at yours, savoring the wine you consumed from the previous dinner.

“Seokjin, please put your dick inside me.” You moan before biting his lower lips. He smirks haughtily.

“Not so fast. I promised I’d eat you, didn’t I, kitten?” He questions, before moving his kisses to your neck, breast, stomach and to your thigh. You bite your own lips, your breath hitched when feeling the cold air he blows to your throbbing core. 

He laps at your cunt, his fingers sensually moving in circles for stimulation, and when his tongue is finally in contact with your clit, you feel the new wave of arousal is dripping out. Seokjin grins, instantly welcoming it with his tongue that leaves you a moaning mess. “Kitten, you’re dripping so much. Do you want to be fucked that badly?”

“Yes, yes, daddy. Don’t hesitate, please fuck me.” You breath out, finally pulling his face closer to your cunt. Seokjin slaps them harshly, eyes turning dark at your disobedience.

“Are you not going to be patient, kitten? Do you want daddy to stop fucking you?”

The thoughts literally scare your whole being that you deters from touching him. “Daddy, please. Fuck me, stuff me with your big cock.”

After that he continues on with his crazy good tongue, moving in and out of you until you screams his name in pleasure. Not only his tongue, his digits enter you in exchange, furthering them inside to scissors you until you are crying of ecstasy. As your orgasm builds up, he circles your clit in wondrous motions with simultaneous licking your cunt which helps you reach your edge. And not even another minute, you cum generously on his tongue.

Few minutes of reaching your breath, Seokjin laughs at your fucked out expression, your orgasm has caught up with you. You are literally glowing with sweat and satisfaction that it literally takes his breath with how blissful you feel, because of him.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby. I still need to ride you, need you to cum inside me.” You remind him right after finding his strangely contented expression staring down at you. “Just... let me take a breather, okay?”

“Are you sure you can ride me? It seems like you lost all your energy.” He giggles, plopping beside you on bed, pulling you close to his chest, that you are leaning on his arm. “I am marrying a fifty years old. How come you already lost your stamina after an orgasm?”

“It’s not it! I’m just a bit tired after work.” You scowl, rolling your eyes at his teases. “You are so annoying.”

He smirks, pecking you in the lips. “But you love me, right?”

“My fault, I know.” You huff. In Seokjin's hearty smile, and you suddenly are  reminded of the photo of him Tasha posted this afternoon. 

“Seokjin. Can I ask you something?” You ask, fidgeting your finger. Seokjin hums. “You know, I saw Tasha posted a photo of you and Taehyun this morning. And I was just thinking… if you want a child?”

“What?” He looks down at you, a bit of confusion written on his face that it scares you he’ll not take this like you want him to.

“No, it’s just—I just think that you like kids very much and they like you too, I am just thinking if you want a child. I don’t mean it now, b-but if y-you want now—”

“Sweetheart, has this been bothering your mind when we had dinner? About having a child?”

You look down, suddenly not courageous enough to face him, afraid of finding the disappointment or doubt in his eyes. “Yes. No. Maybe? I don’t know.”

Seokjin closes you again now that you are chest by chest, face by face, his arms circling your back. “I want everything with you, Y/N. At the right place, at the right time.”

He continues, fixes your locks and rests a few lost strands behind your ear lovingly. “I know this has been hard, especially for you. Pregnancy, birthing is never easy, and I know it’s not really in your plan, even including me. So I will never force you to anything. I want everything you want, okay? And it’s your body. It’s your choice.”

You nod, burying your face on his shoulder, finding purchase on the musky scent of his. Oh, how much you love this man. “Thank you. I don’t know why you always have the rightest thing to say. I really, really envy and love you for it.”

“You went through for me. Of course I want to give you everything. I love you, Y/N, until the sea sleeps.” 

“Until the sea sleeps?” You cocks your head in questions. He nods affirmatively.

“Yes. If life is the sea, I want to go through it with you. Until it ends. Until it sleeps.” He plants kisses lovingly on your forehead, to your nose, and finally, to your lips. But at once you finally push him on his back, internally shouting in joy at his choice of grand large bed.

“How can you say such thoughtful and beautiful words with your dick is pressing on my stomach.“ You hisses in fake chagrin, before continuing. 

“I love you too, but for now let me ride you, daddy...” You whisper sensually, grinding at his half-erected cock. Seokjin smirks in amusement, resting both his palm behind his head as he enjoys the lewd sight, your breast jiggling wonderfully, your cold hands palming his dick.

Oh god, how much he loves you...

*

2 Years Later....

“Honey, can you help grabbing the diapers?” You pleaded from your bedroom, carefully cleaning your five months old baby girl, throwing away the spoiled diapers near your feet. Seokjin quickly arrives with a fresh set of diapers, baby oils, a fresh pair of baby overalls and beige shirt.

“Thank you, honey, you’re the best.” You smile as he pecks your lips slightly. You continue your work in changing Mina’s clothes as the baby lets out a light gurgles, Seokjin sitting across the bed, his lips curling at the beautiful sight. 

After finally falling in love with each other two years ago, you and Seokjin decided to go with your own pace and did not rush into having kids. It was the best decision after all, not a hint of doubts when you knew he’s just as invested as you are in this marriage. You decided to savor it all, both you and Seokjin took leave from work and humdrum life to explore the other side of world together. 

And eight months together passed, you and him both decided it would be the perfect time for you to start getting off the birth pill. Few months of trying and getting pregnancy, you and Seokjin are granted the beautiful healthy baby girl, whom both you named as Kim Mina.

Holding her then or now, you just know she’s already the best gift of your life that you’d do anything for her happiness and well being. 

“So, is Taehyung and Tasha anywhere near our house?” You ask, glancing at the clock. “They are probably the only people I’d worry at this point. All my work friends are already on the way. Yoongi is already in the way, right?”

“Yes he is. But no worry about Taehyung, sweetheart. I have made him promise or else he’ll have to be a clown for Mina’s birthday party.” Seokjin laughs. “All the food is served, everything is in the way it should be. We are going through this.”

“I can’t believe we’re finally having a housewarming party. And a baby too.” You laugh dreamily, picking up Mina to cradle on your chest. “Four years ago us would never believed this.”

“Four years ago Seokjin was a blind fool, I had to say. He almost missed the greatest woman on the planet.” Seokjin warmly back hugs you, kissing your cheek lovingly. You hum in mirth. “Luckily this greatest woman is willing to fight for him. The greatest gift for that lucky bastard, I have to say.”

“Well, she loved him too much, I have to say. It was all worth it.”

With the end of the sentence, a chime of bell is heard—somebody is coming. You quickly walk to the door with Seokjin on your side. The first one to arrive is Hoseok and Jungkook, the only single bachelor of the party. “Hi, Y/N, Seokjin! Congratulations, the house is incredible.” Both of them give you a sided hug, and Jungkook shoves two bottles of wine on your hold. 

“Drink up!” Jungkook giggles, kissing your baby’s cheek as he taps on Seokjin’s shoulder as a greeting, walking into your house to your tables of served dishes. 

In a spare of minutes, few of yours and Seokjin friends are walking in—Jane and her family, Namjoon and his wife and kid, and Yoongi with his girlfriend. You welcome them all with a wide smile, thankful for their presence.

Your parents and Seokjin’s surprisingly arrive right after each other, simultaneously gushing at their grandchild. “Mina! My very cute grandchild!” Your mother squeals in delight after giving you and Seokjin a greeting hug. Seokjin’s mother immediately scoops Mina out of your grasp, moving inside the house to play with her.

Walking around talking with your friends, another bell chime is heard from the door. You and Seokjin walk to open it, finding Jimin on the door with Yoonji, his wife of three months. Their face instantly lightens up at you, and you move to hug the blissful new couple. 

About Jimin, he finally moved back from Sydney to Seoul for good one and a half years ago. He was taking over a few branches of his father’s business, and you started rekindling the friendship with him. And you don’t want to brag, but you are the matchmaker for Jimin and Yoonji. She was the new assistant manager at your unit, and one dinner, you invited Jimin for dinner with your work friend’s and they instantly hit the bat right away. It doesn’t even take a year for Jimin to get on one knee and propose to her.

“Hi, Seokjin.” Jimin grins in courtesy. Seokjin answers with a laugh, pulling the younger guy into a side hug. You point Yoonji her way to Hoseok and Jungkook. “Congrats on the new house, man. This place is great.” Jimin sincerely compliments, handing him a large box of  housewarming gifts which Seokjin gladly receives with loud squeaky laughs of thank you.

It’s also been a year since Jimin had the talk with Seokjin, in which they bonded over alcohol and food. Jimin also apologized to what he did a few years back, and Seokjin instantly accepted it—no hard feelings, knowing that it was for the best as he finally found you, the best thing that happened to him. After that, Jimin basically joins the gang with Seokjin and Yoongi, and also hangs out with your friends slash his wife’s friend. It was all good.

After the housewarming party time finally arrives, the helper hands the drinks in tray for a toast. You lean onto Seokjin’s chest, as he begins the welcoming toast.

“Thank you everyone for coming. This hasn’t been a very easy ride with me and Y/N, but we are very thankful to where we are right now. A beautiful baby, a great house, a great loan—” Everyone chuckles at his joke. “ —but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wanna say thank you to my wife, who has stood by me through thick and thin. I’d never be able to do it without you.”

Suddenly, the shouts to kiss are visible—high chance initiated by Jeon Jungkook—and you giggle before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. The aws are heard, and Seokjin looks back to the audience. “Thank you to my family and friends. Your great support is the reason we are here right now. I am very grateful.”

“Let’s toast, for this wonderful day. May we always be healthy and happy. Cheers!” Seokjin smiles and clinks his glass of champagne to yours. The sound of glass clinking against each other is heard simultaneously, and you sips on the beverage. Seokjin gazes down on you, a toxicated smile on his lips. 

“What?” You ask, falling a bit shy.

“I am so happy. You make me very happy, and I thank you for that.” He closes, resting his forehead on yours. “I love you, sweetheart. Until the sea sleeps.”

You hum in serenity, savoring his wondrous scent. “I love you too, baby. Until the sea sleeps.”

Suddenly, the doors are busted open, Taehyung rushed eyes staring confusedly at the large group of people settling on their places, Taehyun on his grasp. “Am I late? I don’t have to be a clown, right?!”

Just an disinterested glace before the crowd disperse around the home in group. Seokjin cunningly smirks at him, walking closer and taps his shoulder in a fake comforting manner. 

“Sorry, brother. Looking forward to you coming as a clown in Mina’s birthday party, okay?”

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath, but is not missed by your approaching mother-in-law. She immediately screeches loudly in anger, completely enraged with both hands on hips.

“Kim Taehyung! Your son is there, and you curse?! How dare you set out a bad example for your son?!”

He grimace, glaring at you and your husband who are laughing heartily at his clear misery.

“Lord, have your mercy.”

Thank you for reading! it’s such a great ride writing this. Credits to one quora answer I read that inspires this whole fluffy prompt. And all the smut writers that inspired me on writing such unholy scenes lol

Do slide into my ask box and let me know what you think! 🤩💜💌  And check out my other fics ➡ (click here)!

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: The Top

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Roscoe Dillon, also known as the Top. Patient suffers from Bipolar Disorder, type one, and is on the autism spectrum. Session One. Good day, Mr. Dillon. 

The Top: I am not autistic, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: Mr. Dillon, the psychologist at Iron Heights has tested you for the condition multiple times, and the results are always consistent with your being on the autism spectrum. What’s more, the psychological tests we gave to you upon your arrival to Arkham Asylum also suggest that you are, indeed, autistic. 

The Top: I do not care what that quack at Iron Heights says, Doctor Hugo Strange. I am not intellectually subnormal. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Dillon, being on the autism spectrum has nothing to do with your level of intelligence. It simply means that you have difficulty in understanding social cues. 

The Top: In my experience, it is the world that has trouble understanding me, not the other way around. I do not understand why everyone believes that I am odd because I enjoy educating them about tops. Tops are fascinating; certainly much more so than sports or beer or whatever else it is that so-called “normal” people enjoy. 

Hugo Strange: Tops? 

The Top: Yes, tops. You know, Doctor Hugo Strange, the basic principles involved in the spinning of a top are also those used in gyroscopes, guided missile systems, and the gyro stabilizers in ocean liners. Tops are amazing! 

Hugo Strange: Tops? 

The Top: Yes, Doctor Hugo Strange. Tops! 

Hugo Strange: Tops? As in, the children’s toy? 

The Top: Is there something wrong with your hearing, Doctor Hugo Strange? 

Hugo Strange: Do you mean to tell me that, in calling yourself the Top, you are not making a claim as to your superiority, but rather making a reference to a toy? 

The Top: Actually, Doctor Hugo Strange, I am doing both. I am both a living top and at the top of my profession. My costume has stripes on it so that I may better emulate a top when I spin. 

Hugo Strange: Your costume is intended to make you look like a giant top? 

The Top: It is, Doctor Hugo Strange. Why? 

Hugo Strange: Well, that certainly explains its...unusual appearance. 

The Top: (Offended) My costume is no more unusual than that of the Trickster or the Mirror Master, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: I didn’t say that it was, Mr. Dillon. 

The Top: Good. (Pause) Now, Doctor Hugo Strange, would you care to explain why I was transported to an institution a thousand miles away from my base of operations upon my most recent arrest? 

Hugo Strange: I wish I knew myself, Mr. Dillon. The workings of the judicial system as it regards the costumed population never cease to bewilder me. However, I must say that I am glad to have you here, Mr. Dillon. You are clearly mentally ill, and Iron Heights clearly has made no progress in treating your condition. 

The Top: I am not mentally ill, Doctor Hugo Strange! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Dillon, mental illness is not a sign of a moral or intellectual deficit. It simply means that your brain has become diseased, just as any other part of your body might. 

The Top: Nevertheless, I maintain that I am not mentally ill, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Doctor Strange: According to your record, when you first became the Top, you threatened to blow up half the world with a, quote, “atomic grenade”  if all the governments of the world did not acknowledge you as the ruler of the world within ten hours. You did this while under the belief that you would somehow be safe on the other side of the planet should the bomb go off. Mr. Dillon, can you spot the flaw in this plan? You are obviously an intelligent man. 

The Top: Of course I can, Doctor Hugo Strange. If half the planet was blown up, the entire planet would have been devastated. Even if I was on the other side of the planet from the epicenter of the explosion, I likely still would have been killed.

Hugo Strange: (Shocked) Wait...you actually built an atomic grenade with the power to blow up half the world? 

The Top: Of course. I am a genius, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: You built an atomic grenade that could spin around like a top and possessed the capacity to blow up half the world? 

The Top: You have a dreadful habit of repeating yourself, Doctor Hugo Strange. But yes, I did. 

Hugo Strange: Then all those other tops your record claims you invented actually worked as well? And you actually made a giant top-shaped satellite that you launched into orbit? 

The Top: I am supposed to have a mood disorder, not a psychotic disorder, Dr. Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: Well, yes, but severe bouts of mania and depression are known to sometimes bring on psychotic symptoms. I had thought that your claims of having successfully invented such an improbable array of top-shaped weapons were the result of delusions brought on by one of your mood episodes. 

The Top: No. The quack at Iron Heights says that I was having a manic episode during my attempt to become ruler of the Earth, and that that is why I did not realize the flaws in my plan. They allege that I was having “mood-congruent delusions of grandeur and invulnerability”, but at no point did they accuse me of outright hallucinating. Surely that is in the report, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: (Annoyed, but not with the Top) While I do not fully agree with your assertions that the psychologist at Iron Heights is a quack, Mr. Dillon, I must admit that they are distinctly lacking in some key areas-such as specifying which of your behaviors and claims were the results of a mood episode and which were not. Knowing that you have had at least five manic episodes and at least three depressive episodes is worthwhile knowledge, but without adequate context, how do they expect me to know what behaviors are a sign that you are no longer in a healthy state of mind? 

The Top: Three depressive episodes, Doctor Hugo Strange? As far as I am aware, the quack has only had me hospitalized for depression twice. 

Hugo Strange: That is because the first listed depressive episode was an attempted suicide at the age of 17, which would have been before you ever went to prison. 

The Top: Oh. Yes, that did...that did happen, Doctor Hugo Strange. It was how I learned that taking a dozen different types of pills is not the most efficient way in which to kill oneself. 

Hugo Strange: (Alarmed, but making an effort to remain calm) You aren’t planning to make another attempt, are you? The Top: No, no. I have far too much to live for-and besides, my fianceé would never forgive me if I killed myself, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: Your fianceé?

The Top: Yes. Her name is Lisa Snart, although you, Doctor Hugo Strange, are likely more familiar with her nom de guerre: the Golden Glider. 

Hugo Strange: So, another one of the Rogues? 

The Top: Yes. I met her while posing as an ice skating coach, and we have been deeply in love ever since, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: I see. How long have the two of you been romantically linked? 

The Top: About seven years now, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: In other words, the relationship began shortly after your second attempted suicide? 

The Top: I admit I was in a rather dark place at that point in my life, Doctor Hugo Strange. My beloved was responsible for helping to pull me out of it. 

Hugo Strange: (Concerned) And what would happen if she died, or broke off your relationship? 

The Top: That will not happen, Doctor Hugo Strange. 

Hugo Strange: But if it did? 

The Top: (Agitated) I… I don’t know. She...she’s the only person who ever really loved me, Doctor Hugo Strange. The only one. 

Hugo Strange: I’m concerned that you seem to be placing your mental stability and overall self-esteem so heavily on one relationship, Mr. Dillon. That cannot be healthy, for either one of you. (Pause) I know you don’t believe yourself to be mentally ill, but for Lisa’s sake, if nothing else, I really do think that it is urgent that we continue these sessions. 

The Top: I would never do anything to hurt Lisa, Doctor Hugo Strange. Never! 

Hugo Strange: In an earlier manic episode, you threatened to blow up half the world. That would have included your beloved Lisa, would it not? 

The Top: I had not yet met Lisa when I came up with that scheme. If I had known her, I never would have endangered her in such a way, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: Maybe so, but that incident serves to prove that your judgement is compromised when you are in the midst of a manic episode. While I believe that you would never intentionally hurt Lisa, should you have another manic episode, you might cause harm to her without realizing it. 

The Top: I...I suppose you may have a point, Doctor Hugo Strange. I will take your suggestion into consideration. I certainly do not wish to accidentally harm Lisa. 

Hugo Strange: I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Dillon. (Pause) You are a metahuman, correct? 

The Top: Do you think I am wearing this collar because it is fashionable, Doctor Hugo Strange? 

Hugo Strange: A metahuman power dampener. Well, I suppose that answers that question. What powers do you possess, Mr. Dillon? 

The Top: I have the ability to spin at superhuman speeds, I am telekinetic, and I have a limited degree of telepathy, Doctor Hugo Strange. I cannot read or outright control minds, but I can induce vertigo and push people into doing things that they otherwise might not be inclined to do. 

Hugo Strange: I see. So, Mr. Dillon, what prompted you to put on a costume, call yourself the Top, and use your intellect and your not inconsiderable array of powers to commit crimes? 

The Top: My father always told me that I needed to be a success; get on top of the world. I had to prove that I wasn’t the failure that everyone thought I was...and I did. No one laughs at Roscoe Dillon anymore, Doctor Hugo Strange.

Hugo Strange: Yes, yes...but why do it in a silly costume and with gimmicked tops? 

The Top: I thought we already went over this. It’s because I like tops. They are fascinating. (Pause) Do you want to hear about my collection, Doctor Hugo Strange? There’s so much you could learn from it. 

Hugo Strange: Perhaps some other time, Mr. Dillon. (Pause) And the Flash had nothing to do with your decision to put on the costume? 

The Top: The Flash? You insult me, Doctor Hugo Strange. Why would I ever be inspired to do anything by someone like him? 

Hugo Strange: Isn’t he your enemy? 

The Top: Only because he constantly stands in the way of my achieving greatness. If he left me alone, I would not fight him….but as it is, he’s made things rather personal. 

Hugo Strange: So the reason you have continued to commit crimes is in order to get revenge on the Flash? 

The Top: Really, Doctor Hugo Strange, you must get your hearing problems checked out. I do not commit crimes to get revenge on the Flash. I commit crimes to make myself wealthy and to get revenge on the world. It rejected me; branded me as a freak. I simply rejected it in turn. 

Hugo Strange: And has your life of crime made you happy, Mr. Dillon? 

The Top: Not yet...but I am afraid, Doctor Hugo Strange, that it does not matter whether being a criminal makes me happy or not. It’s the only life that will ever accept someone like me. I learned that lesson long ago. 

Hugo Strange: I stand by my initial assessment of you, Mr. Dillon. You need help. I just hope you will permit me to provide it. 

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Three ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG

Word count: 3857

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Thanks for your response to the previous chapters! I hope you all are doing well <3

In the morning, it’s Orophin who wakes me. I accept his offer of breakfast readily, even if it’s more of the same bread and now-soggy fruit. Rumil offers me a knowing smile, promising more interesting food once we sit at Elrond’s table, and I hold on to that hope. After a hasty breakfast, I work on finishing mending the two tunics. I’m nearly done when I feel a presence behind me and turn my head.

Haldir stands, tall and intimidating as ever, peering over my shoulder.

I purse my lips, trying to hold in a laugh. His behavior is so much stranger than that of the others. “Yes?”

He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing my work, then nods once. “That will do. Thank you for your work.” He raises his voice so all can hear. “We leave in ten minutes.” He holds out a hand, and I place the shirts there, still trying to get over hearing the words ‘thank you’ from him. I honestly didn’t think he was the type.

The more you know, I guess.

Like the others, I hurry to pack my things. Because, over the limited time I’ve spent with this group, I quickly came to realize that when Haldir says ten minutes, he actually means ten minutes, and only ten minutes. I stifle a laugh. Mara would never—

A gasp tears through my throat, and I drop my bag.

Sharp tings ring through the air — the sound of metals scraping against each other. Absently, I recognize it as the sound of swords being drawn from their scabbards.

Haldir appears at my side, gripping my elbow and drawing me nearer to him. “What is it?” His voice is low, urgent, and, though he speaks to me, his eyes never pause their scan of our surroundings.

Belatedly, I realize my error. Of course they would think I saw something of concern. But the memory is taking form now, my head begins to pound and ache with the effort, and I have to work to assemble a sentence. I don’t want to lose focus, to lose the memories. “No, it’s—” I try to explain, try to communicate that we’re not in any danger—that I know of. “I only…” I bring a hand to my temple and take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “It’s not an attack, sorry for scaring you guys. It’s just, well, I’m remembering something.”

Baranor jogs over to me, sheathing his sword. Haldir is much slower to relax, and releases my arm in favor of walking the perimeter of our camp.

“Tell us about it,” Baranor encourages. “It might help you recall more.”

“It’s nothing helpful or important,” I preface apologetically, but he only waves it off.

“Any memory is a sign of recovery. Now, go on!”

“Okay.” I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to remember as much as possible. The initial ache in my head is fading, though it sharpens when I try to concentrate too hard on any one detail. “I was thinking of how I better hurry up and get my supplies together because Haldir is the type of person—well, you guys would say ellon, I guess—who means what he says, so I sure as hell better be ready in ten minutes. Then, out of nowhere, I remembered a friend from home—Mara. She’s…” the memory warps and dips out of sight, but I chase after it, feeling my pulse race. I want to remember. I want to know more. The memory comes back to me and I am rewarded for my efforts with more details about my friend. “She’s taller than me but shorter than you, has a pixie cut, and always wears these ridiculous blue sneakers, no matter the occasion.” I feel a pang of fondness for this important person I’ve only just remembered. Is this what missing someone is like? “But I think she came to mind because she’s always late, to the point where, if I hosted a party or something, I would have to tell her it started earlier than it did in the hope that she would show up on time. Oh, it would make—” And the progress stops. I strain my mind, trying to force it to go deeper, to learn more, to try harder, but nothing happens. All I receive in return is a splitting headache, one that makes me grimace against the pain. I can’t remember anything else about Mara, or place her in any other memories, or find the person she always angered with her tardiness.

Feeling a little defeated, I shrug.

Baranor gives me an encouraging smile, shaking his head. “You are doing well. I think, with adequate rest and time for your head to heal, and perhaps some intervention of Elrond’s, you will have your memory restored. Do not lose hope.”

I accept his reassurance, as well as his leg-up for the horse, and spend the remainder of the morning wracking my brain, searching for more memories of a friend I didn’t know I had.

{***}

By midday, the sun is bearing down on us hotter than it has before. I shed my cloak, using my newly acquired riding proficiency to keep my balance while tucking the fabric into my bag. I glance at my companions, each of whom wears a metal chest plate, a bow and quiver on his back, and various swords and knives on his belt. It makes me feel overheated just looking at them. “How are you all not miserable in that armor? I’m burning up and I’m just in a tunic and leggings!”

“Ah, dear Cosima, you are mistaken.” Rumil pulls up next to me and Baranor, shaking his head in mock sadness. “You see, we are miserable. We are absolutely baking with all the added weight we carry.”

From his spot ahead of us, Orophin snorts, a noise I’m not sure I’ve ever heard from him. “This is nothing, little brother. You weren’t part of the guard when Haldir made us run for miles during the hottest part of the day in the hottest part of the summer in full battle armor and weaponry for seven days in a row.”

“Ah, yes.” Haldir chimes in, and I can hear the hint of a smile in his voice. It softens it slightly, makes him sound less harsh. “I remember that drill. Perhaps I should bring it back. It seems the newer members of the guard aren’t as well-adjusted as those who went through such special training.”

Rumil visibly pales. “Haldir you wouldn’t.”

“Oh I most certainly would,” he shoots back, his signature haughty tone coming forth once again. But he turns his head over his shoulder, giving his youngest brother a teasing look.

I laugh, caught off guard by Haldir’s playfulness and Rumil’s woeful expression. Haldir returns facing forward and rolls his shoulder back, seeming perfectly pleased with the knowledge that he can still torment his little brother. I twist to stick my tongue out at Rumil, who responds with a glare.

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, Cosima.” I snap my head back in Haldir’s direction. Surely he’s not… “If you decide to return to Lothlórien with us, I am having you fitted with armor for the return journey.” He turns over his shoulder once more, fixing me with a single raised eyebrow. “And it will be well into summer by then.”

He turns away, apparently not phased by the quiet chuckles of Orophin and Baranor, nor the gleeful guffaws of Rumil.

“Rude,” I mutter under my breath, but this only makes them all laugh harder.

The sparse cloud cover shifts and the rays of the sun concentrate on the top of my head. Its warmth knots and multiples in the tangles of my hair, and I want nothing more than to have some relief from the awful heat. I grimace, wishing I had something to use to put my hair up. I steal jealous looks at my companions who call themselves elves. Their hair is just as long as mine and it doesn’t seem to bother them one bit. While mine collects frizz like it’s gold, their hair remains perfectly straight and smooth, falling over their shoulders almost languidly. My inspection of their hair reveals something I hadn’t taken much notice of before — the subtle yet intricate braids each of them wears. And though there is hair wrapped around the end of each braid, obscuring what I hope is there, something has to be holding the braids in place—right? Otherwise, they would fall and sit straight like the hair is made to.

It’s worth the ask.

I raise my voice a bit, calling out to the whole group. “Long shot, but does anyone have a hair tie? Preferably big enough for me to get around all of my hair?”

Orophin and Baranor shake their heads. Rumil makes a show of checking his wrists and the pouch attached to his belt, but comes back with only a look of apology.

Shoot.

Though he never falters in keeping his horse at a quick pace, I notice Haldir twist slightly, rummaging through one of his bags. Quick as a flash, he tosses something behind him which Rumil catches easily, though I myself can barely follow the object’s movements. Rumil grins, presenting me with a tan, thin circle of leather. He demonstrates spreading his fingers and the leather stretches.

I take the hair tie, smiling broadly. Perfect. “Thanks, Haldir!” He says nothing, only nods in acknowledgment. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. He’s back to business, then.

Rumil brings his horse closer to the one Baranor and I ride, and I notice even Orophin shooting me interested looks. I raise an eyebrow self-consciously. “What?”

Rumil scrutinizes the hair tie, then the waves that fall down my back. “What are you going to do with a tie that large?”

I squint, partially at the shift in the sun’s angle, and partially in confusion at Rumil’s question. “I’m…going to put it up in a bun?” The looks they give me have me questioning my choice. Is that wrong, somehow?

Baranor tilts his head towards me as much as he can. “A bun?”

“Yeah, I—wait.” I pause, recalling that they only way they’ve worn their hair so far is down with the small braids added in. “Do you guys leave your hair down all the time?”

“For the most part.” Rumil shrugs. “Sometimes during battle or heavy training we will tie it all back in one or a few braids, but elves traditionally let their hair grow long and leave it down.”

“Interesting,” I murmur, taking the time to really look at each of their heads. Haldir, Rumil, and Orophin’s braids have similarities, but are in no way identical, and Baranor’s are completely different. I begin to catch on. “So, do the braids mean something, then?”

“Exactly,” Rumil nods, a twinkle in his eye. “It’s up to the elf to decide what to put in their hair, but most at least indicate where they hail from and from which family. Most warriors will denote who they are with braids—healers and scholars, too. If you are courting, that’s a specific braid as well, to show other elves that you are off-limits unless the courtship is broken.”

I smile, seeing their hair in a whole new light. “I never knew they meant something. The braids are beautiful.”

Rumil tosses his hair in my direction, letting me see the interlocking twists and tucks of a complicated ladder braid. “Mine the most, right?”

I roll my eyes, shooting my cheeky companion a grin. “If you say so.”

But all this talk of hair is reminding me just how hot my own is making me, and I am endlessly grateful for the means to put it up. I grip the horse tighter with my legs, preparing to release my arms from Baranor’s stabilizing middle. “Don’t let me fall,” I whisper, nerves gathering in my stomach as I chance a look at the ground passing under the horse’s thundering hooves.

“Of course,” he nods, and I swear the horse rides smoother.

Tentatively, I unwrap my arms from the thing that steadies me, putting more hope into my legs to keep me on the horse. I take a few deep breaths, straightening my back and keeping myself as still as possible while continuing to rock with the horse. Once I feel solid, I reach my hands up, gathering my hair. I don’t remember the last time I did this, but the muscle memory is there. I pull my hair into a high ponytail, beginning to twist the long strands around each other.

The horse jolts and I suck in a breath, feeling my body jerk to the right. Rumil shoots out an arm, steading me quickly. I give him a look of relieved thanks and continue, twisting my hair with one hand and wrapping the tie with the other. From the corner of my eye, I notice Orophin slow his horse a little, falling back to ride closer to us. He alternates between watching our surroundings and shooting curious glances at my hair. With a final twist, the bun is secured, and I take a moment to pull at the top and the sides so it’s not too tight.

Smiling broadly, I drop my arms, wrapping them around Baranor once again. “Ha! I did it!”

“Great job,” Rumil grins, voice thick with sarcasm. “Soon you will be able to shoot a bow while riding at a full gallop.”

Orophin snorts at his brother’s joke, speeding up once again to return to his place near Haldir.

“Oh, be quiet,” I snark, just happy to have a little relief from the heat.

A low bird call sounds from somewhere around us, and I tilt my head upwards, looking for the source. I’ve never heard a twitter like that before. “What kind—”

“Shh,” Rumil hisses, all traces of humor gone. I turn to him in confusion, then notice the way each of them sits straighter, more tense, a hand on the weapon nearest to him. I shrink against Baranor, heart beginning to race.

Something’s wrong.

I guess I wouldn’t know for sure, but I have the sneaking suspicion that I’ve never been in a fight. And, while I have no reason to doubt these men that I’ve somehow come to trust in such a short time, how can I really know if they are as great warriors as they say? For all I know, their perception of themselves could be horribly skewed, and we’re about to be attacked and overpowered.

I feel my hands shaking.

Baranor inclines his head in my direction, catching my attention. “It’s alright. It is just one man, as far as we can tell, but Haldir will want to ascertain that we are not walking into a trap. Stay silent and do not draw attention to yourself. We are going to approach him.”

As if on some unspoken order, Haldir and Orophin draw their swords. Rumil takes the bow from his back and smoothly nocks an arrow. I try to exhale quietly, fear making my breath catch in my throat. I tighten my grip around Baranor and press my forehead against the cool metal of his chest plate. Part of me feels incredibly wimpy hiding behind him, but the part of me in charge of survival instincts says I should be doing more…like, running in the opposite direction, perhaps.

Our horses slow and I try calm my racing heart.

We come to a stop.

“Identify yourself.” Haldir’s voice is always strong, always full of authority, but this is like I’ve never heard it before. It rings with both confidence and the sharp edge of a threat. If this was my first encounter with him, I would be shaking in my boots.

Silence.

I can practically feel the tension in the air.

The stress of not knowing what’s going on, not knowing what I’m facing, adds to my fear. I exhale, gathering my courage. I’m gonna have to look. Leaving myself no time to change my mind, I stretch my head to the side, peeking around Baranor’s shoulder.

And the memories come rushing back.

“Alex,” I breathe, my body feeling hot and cold all at once.

His head snaps from Haldir’s to mine, and the color drains from his face. “Cosima!”

I swing my leg over the horse’s back and jump to the ground. I’ve never gotten off the horse without help, and the force with which I hit the earth sends shocks of pain up my body. I ignore it, pushing myself to meet Alex as he runs towards me. We collide, gripping each other in a tight hug.

“What,” I gasp, pressing my face into the crook of his neck. I burst into tears. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here, what about you?” He pulls back slightly, gripping my arms and looking me over. “Why are you crying, what’s wrong? Have they hurt you?” He sends an accusatory glare at the men behind me.

I follow his gaze, noticing for the first time that Orophin has dismounted and stands near my shoulder, glowering at Alex.

I hurry to set the record straight. “No. No, they’ve been nothing but kind and helpful.” I sniffle, running a sleeve over my cheek. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

He smiles, placing a hand on my neck and pulling me back into a hug. “It’s okay. It’s just the stress.” At his words and the comforting motion of his hand running up and down my back, my tears begin to subside.

I hear the soft sound of boots connecting with dirt and turn just in time to see Haldir striding up to us, falling in line next to Orophin. Like his brother, he sets Alex with a hard, untrusting gaze. “You are traveling alone?”

Alex’s jaw tightens. “You kidnapped my friend?”

I twist out of Alex’s hold, turning so I can keep both him and my companions in view.

Haldir’s expression doesn’t change, he only raises his chin in defiance of Alex’s accusation. “We are elves, guardians of the great realm of Lothlórien, traveling upon invitation to Imladris. We found Cosima alone, like you, and offered her our aid. If, perhaps, you become more cooperative, we would be prepared to extend the same offer to you.”

Alex leans forward and Haldir raises an eyebrow, as if daring him to make a move. Orophin’s weight shifts to his back foot. I angle myself to face Alex, gripping his elbows. “It’s okay, honestly. If it weren’t for them I’d be dead by now. They can help you, too. Just answer their questions.”

Alex continues to glare, but I can see the resolve leave him. He looked peaked, and weak, and dark shadows sit under his hazel eyes. How long has he been here? Would I look like this, if the others hadn’t found me?

“Yes,” he acquiesces. “I’m traveling alone. I woke up on the riverbank three days ago and have been wandering around looking for civilization since. I don’t remember anything before that other than my name—Alexander. Now I remember Cosima too, and my nickname, I guess.”

Baranor slides off his horse, joining us with the bag I recognize as the one keeping his healing supplies. Haldir holds up a hand, stopping Baranor’s approach.

“Two humans that know each other wake up on the bank of the same river on the same day with no memory. One was strange enough, but two?” He looks between me and Alex, eyebrow raised. “Perhaps Elrond can offer insight.”  

“Elrond,” Alex questions, his voice guarded once again.

I explain before Haldir and his attitude can. “He’s a friend of theirs in a city across the mountains. That’s where they’re traveling, so it’s where we’re going, too.”

Alex sets me with a look that quite obviously questions my sanity. “You agreed to follow them to another town through the mountains?”

I recoil at his tone, as well as the attack on my common sense. “Yes, I did. Because they’re nice and my only other option was waiting along the riverbank hoping another equally helpful party came along. Because if you haven’t noticed, Alex, there aren’t any cities here. It’s not like I can just walk up to someone’s house and call for help.”

He sighs, running a hand through his unkempt sandy hair. “But you could have waited. I was walking in that direction, I would have found you eventually.”

I throw my hands in the air, actually annoyed now. “There’s no way either of us could have known the other was here! I woke up the same as you did—with nothing. No context, no memories, no supplies. In light of that, I don’t think we’re in the position to be picky when help comes our way. We have to adapt, Alex, and quickly. It won’t end well for us if we don’t.”

His lip curls at my words. I try to soften my tone, knowing we are heading for an argument and that isn’t helpful to anyone right now. “You’re tired. You’ve been wandering for three days, I’m guessing without enough food or rest. Let us help you.”

Alex looks between me and the men behind me. With a start, I realize that I’ve just encountered a long-lost friend, someone quite important to me based on the onslaught of memories, and, to him, it must seem that I’m abandoning him in favor of taking the side of these newcomers. Guilt weighs uncomfortably in my stomach.

“Okay,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’ll go along with this—for now.”

Haldir nods, already walking towards his horse. “We ride until nightfall, then we will stop for food and rest. Be prepared to ride hard. We must make up for the time we lost with all this bickering.” Aside from the usual command in his tone, there’s a note of annoyance. He is so impatient.

I give Alex one last hug, feeling bad for my treatment of him. He’s my only link to my home, the only person here I can really, truly trust. I shouldn’t be at odds with him. “We’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.” He doesn’t respond, only follows me to the horses.

Baranor bends to give me a leg up, but a voice halts us both. “Cosima, you ride with Rumil now. Baranor—keep Alexander on the back of your horse.”

Why? I glance at Haldir in confusion. He eyes me steadily, shaking his head once. I sigh, deciding to go along with it. I give Baranor a small wave of goodbye and join Rumil.

“On to bigger and better things, then?” He winks, kneeling and locking his fingers together.

“Oh, shut up,” I roll my eyes, chuckling as I step into his hands and swing my leg over the horse. He settles in front of me and takes the reins, and, before I know it, this company of five has become a company of six.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make me oh so happy! Let me know if you would like a tag! And if you’re having trouble being tagged, try subscribing to the story on Ao3! That will update you automatically when I post there. 

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[leonawriter]

My Personal Takes on Stormbringer:

Without a full and accurate translation to go through in one sitting, it’s still hard to get a handle on things properly. That said, thank you to everyone who’s working on it. 

Now.

(please note all quotes are my memory of translations I have read, and are not verbatim.)

-Asagiri, please, you do not need to make so many coding analogies with regards to Chuuya and Verlaine. They don’t work.

-It often feels - not just in this book but also in 55 Minutes, where there are tight restrictions on a time travel ability - that Asagiri limits abilities based on how scientifically accurate they are. However, this doesn’t make sense! why should it! Literature should be an expression of freedom. There should be rules - the same way the Page has rules - but in the sense of Magic A is Magic A. You make up the rules and then you don’t break them in future. Why have Kunikida able to create something with a mass heavier than a piece of paper out of a page of his notebook, but then say you can’t do [x/y/z] because it’s scientifically unviable?

-I have no issue with how skk treat each other. they are chaos teens. let them be. like... this is the beginning of their actual trust. they’re also in the mafia, and in a dark time in their lives. it’s fine. (it isn’t, but at the same time, it kinda is.)

-I feel like Chuuya taking things from other people and making that thing “his” fits him as a character? he had nothing before, so when you have nothing, all you have is what people give you. If someone gives him a bike, then that bike is his now. He has to learn to look after it, love it, and respect it, and he’ll remember that friend by it. Same goes for pretty much anything else. Also, it’s a show of how well Chuuya adapts to things, and what things he chooses to pick up.

-The hat. I do not like how the hat was treated. Making it into the key that helps Chuuya be able to activate Corruption cheapens the meaning and weight of having been given the hat as a memento of the first person who told him to live as a human being. Why not have the hat be a reminder of his humanity in a purely sentimental way? I’m going to ignore anything canon about this and just say it’s sentimental. Which, like, it could have been a safety blanket type thing, not pseudo-science.

-The coding in Chuuya’s body is a bit... of a reach? How do you put that in there? I don’t get it. Just say that there’s a possibility he might die if he uses Corruption, or that he’ll never become “Chuuya” again. That he’d lose himself utterly. The log history can be either on a chip (insert Dazai making “lost dog, if found return to the mafia” jokes here) or on something else that could easily be destroyed during the course of the story (or not).

-Dazai living in the shipping container reads to me like an extreme version of “I do not want to be found I do not want to be helped I am worthless trash and what’s the point in having an actual home if I plan on dying any day anyway.” Verlaine asks what drove him there, and Dazai says “you” and tbh that offers up so many questions (like, was the shipping container thing recent, was it temporary, or what). There’s the possibility that Dazai doesn’t always live there, because otherwise he’d suffer from hypothermia and get pneumonia in the winter! But above all, Mori had nothing to do with this. He was probably terrified to go too close in case he got killed. Stop saying Dazai lives here because “poor baby was abused :(” that sure was not it.

-Dazai goes all this way - plotting for ages, since before the beginning of the book, having been number one on Verlaine’s hit list, just to get the truth about Chuuya’s humanity and to preserve it - because “I want to see Chuuya suffer as a human being” is him saying he doesn’t want to see Chuuya become like him, or inhuman, because that’s not Chuuya. (dude, there ain’t a straight explanation for this...)

-following on from the previous, Dazai refusing to just let things be the moment he realises that it’d mean double suiciding with Chuuya. I personally see that as a shippy moment because Dazai had already given up on Chuuya being alive (if I read the translation right) and in that case, dying would just be letting go. But Mori says “yeah but I don’t think he’s dead yet?” and that, along with the “double suicide” thing, makes Dazai go “absolutely NOT.”

OK a related thing - as far as I remember, when IRL Dazai attempted double suicide, right up until his actual death it would result in either a failure or... his partner dying and him surviving. The cold potential of this happening in BSD if Dazai had just given up reminded me of that.

-Regardless of my thoughts on how it was handled, Stormbringer reinforced my previous ideas about how Chuuya basically IS Arahabaki. It also suggests that Arahabaki was more of a sentient ability than a true “god” but... that’s fine. For me, all I cared about was that all those “Arahabaki is an evil being that is constantly trying to take over Chuuya and Corruption is Arahabaki being let out” takes are not true. It’s... basically Chuuya taking the lid off his power. I joked at one point that Corruption is Chuuya going “I’m so pissed off I’m gonna kick the door open and throw away the key” and Dazai going “go for it babe, I got your key.”

-Rimbaud and Verlaine are... very complicated characters? They’re not easy to get a handle on. I sometimes find myself liking them and sometimes find myself disliking them, and that’s something that’ll be easier when I have a full translation available - and one of Fifteen. Rimbaud was held back by seeing Chuuya, at first, as nothing more than an empty vessel to Arahabaki’s power, while Verlaine was so taken over by grief without understanding how to handle that, that he became a monster up until the end of the story. Neither of them were good people. That said, their relationship to each other? It’s very complicated and reminds me of their IRL selves to a point but without the skeevy nature and without it going so far, so kudos to that.

-Adam. Knowing his creator was a ten year old girl makes so much sense when you look at the things he says and does. He doesn’t get so much. He’s very logical, but doesn’t understand that a game of billiards isn't as much of an icebreaker as he thinks it should be. Surprised by bubble gum. Games like “strange things humans do” are very much like the word games kids play in the car. 

-Verlaine being the fifth executive was something I did not predict at all, whatsoever, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Like... how did he get to that point. Only so much can be said in a few paragraphs (it seems) of “this is [x] number of years in the future where Chuuya’s an executive now.” 

The last we see of him, he’s overcome by grief, hatless, and he seems to have only just realised how much he wished he could return what Rimbaud gave to him. (Ironically, by being able to grieve like that, it shows that he is capable of what he thinks he can’t do - same as Dazai.)

But how does he become an executive? Do they come to him slowly at first, and they gradually build up trust? Does he stay in contact with Chuuya? Do they see each other properly as brothers now, or not? I can’t help but feel that as it’s a long time - six years, in fact - between Stormbringer and canon, some bond of trust must have been built. The mafia protects Verlaine from the authorities and from the outside world just the same as Kouyou says that she wants to do for Kyouka, and the same as they’re there for Chuuya, too. So. A Verlaine who trains the mafia’s best assassins not because he’s forced into it, but because he feels the same loneliness as Chuuya, and finds that it helps? A Verlaine who learns slowly that he can care about more people than just Rimbaud and Chuuya? Holy shit yes please. A Verlaine who is loyal and protective and who you should be glad is in a (probably) gilded prison of the mafia’s basement, because otherwise he would actually do so many things to those who would harm his family.

Let’s just say - if I think of Arahabaki as a guardian or protector god who is just plain destructive because it can’t help that, then Chuuya and Verlaine looking and acting in similar ways because they share that same “parent” in a sense, makes sense. They are no longer just Arahabaki, they’re “Chuuya” and “Verlaine” - but they also share traits such as “Papa Wolf” and “lonely” and “violent,” among others.

-At least twice, pre-Soukoku Dazai and Chuuya refer to how they’re constantly thinking of each other. No, they don’t mean in positive ways, but they’re chaos teens and it’s still strong emotion. Chuuya mentions how he’s thought of at least 190 ways to punish Dazai for the things that he does (which also implies how their relationship is equal, and Dazai doesn’t call all the shots, and doesn’t get away with everything scot-free), and Dazai says that Verlaine can’t possibly win against him, because Dazai “spends all of his time, waking and sleeping, thinking of ways to annoy and harass Chuuya,” (quote not perfect.) 

We also have Chuuya having Dazai appear to him first in his hallucinations, which I see as Chuuya’s inner Dazai-voice saying all the worst things, and ironically not actually saying or meaning things that would get across what real Dazai would want him to feel; in other words, that’s Chuuya’s view of him, or his mind searching for the one person he’d believe it to realistically come from.

As well, Dazai saying “there’s no way Chuuya could be an artificially constructed personality, because no one could create a personality that I [hate/that annoys me] so much.” Which, like... sure... you tell yourself that, kid...

Basically, they’re all the kinds of things that teenagers who don’t really get how strong feelings like these work yet, who are still figuring themselves (and their orientations, probably) out, would say if they don’t even like that other person that much, but they’re still attracted to them. A strong “why does it have to be THEM?” haha. And yet, as others have pointed out, Chuuya seems more on the oblivious side than Dazai, since as said, Dazai goes to all this effort and seems fond (but only when Chuuya’s not looking, dumbass) but Chuuya just... doesn’t get it.

A shorter summary of my thoughts and feelings?

Chuuya suffers, but is ultimately happier for it no matter whether he’s one of the clones or whether he’s the original (it’s arguable either way, and I don’t mind either way) as he’s still Chuuya. His bond with the mafia is also stronger than so many people think it is. They’re literally his adopted family. Even if he chose to leave, he’d still see them as family. I can’t see him leaving. He’s just... they’re family... don’t tear them apart...

The skk is strong, no matter what people say, because this is the start and it’s the end of their first year in the mafia and it’s not supposed to be a healthy time, for fuck’s sake. They’re both all sorts of messed up. They’re allowed to be. This is a time when that’s kinda the point of the book. But yeah, the trust and the bond is real.

Verlaine. I am now fascinated by Verlaine. I was so sure before the spoilers and translations came out that I’d hate him. I no longer do. He confuses me but I NEED TO KNOW MORE. 

[supernatural-jackles]

The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 8

Title: The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 8

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 4,932

Warnings: Minor Angst, Lots of Fluff, Playing with their hair, did I mention Fluff?

Summary: Driving down the road, going well over the speed limit. You come across a man walking in the opposite direction with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His head cast down as he walked. Your gut instinct is telling you to check on this man, no matter what your parents told you growing up. Little did you know just how much this would change your life.

The Man on the Side of the Road - Masterlist

Square Filled: Bed Sharing ( @spngenrebingo​)

A/N: I think y’all are going to like this one! Lots of fluff to make up for the angsty last part! As always, feedback is incredibly appreciated ( seriously thank you for it!) Happy reading!! 

 “Alright, beef jerky?” Dean called out from the list he had in his hand.

 “Check,” you shouted back.

 “Potato chips?”

 “Got it.”

 “And finally, my best friend?” he smiled widely, looking over the top of the car to see you. You shook your head with a wide smile.

 “I’m right here, dork,” you giggled. “I think we’re road trip ready, don’t you? I didn’t get up at six in the morning for nothing, Dean.”

 “I think we’re ready too,” he nodded. “We’ve got a long road ahead of us today. We’re stopping later tonight. We’re staying in a cheap motel and we’ll be back on the road in the morning.”

 “I like that plan,” you stated. “Let’s get this show on the road shall we?”

 You and Dean were on the open road within minutes. All the doors to your home were locked. You had your security system triple checked. No one knew you were leaving town but Bobby, and he was going to check on your house every day. He was more than happy to let Dean have the week off to go with you on the road trip. You both needed it. You needed to have that breath of fresh air. You needed to get away from everything for a little while.

 Since the night you had a full on breakdown, you and Dean had been closer than ever. You felt so much closer to him and it was a strange feeling for you. You never felt that way with Ketch. Not even in the beginning when everything was so fresh and new. You never felt like you fully knew who he was and what he was about. You knew things about Dean that no one knew. You shared things with him that you had never shared with anyone. It made you wonder if it was weird for him too. If he liked how close you had grown in the time you knew each other.

 “I’m feeling pizza for dinner,” Dean brought up about an hour into the drive.

 “I could go for some pizza,” you nodded. “With everything on it.”

 “Everything?” he cocked his eyebrow. “Now you are definitely my kind of girl.”

 “Speaking of girl,” you licked your bottom lip. You had to know.  “When are you going to ask that girl out? You know, the one you told me about?”

 “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I don’t really know if I’m going to. Yeah, it’d be great to put myself out there again and all. I have no idea if she even likes me back, or if she’d ever go out with me in the first place. I don’t want to push myself back with all the progress I’ve made so far.”

 “That’s a good point,” you nodded. “But you’re going to have to put yourself out there sometime. The girl isn’t going to wait forever if she does like you back. As soon as she thinks you’ve lost interest, she’ll move on. I know you said you’re not a long term kind of guy but it could be worth a shot.”

 “I’m not. But I don’t know, maybe this time I should give it a try. I’m older now. The sounds of settling down don’t scare me nearly as much as they used to. I guess I have you to thank for that one.”

 “Why me?”

 “Because of the whole you thought you were pregnant,” he said nonchalantly. “The idea of having a kid of your own, and starting a family with someone sounds a lot better than it did years ago. But I want what you said. Two parents that love each other to raise the baby.”

 “Sounds to me like you want a future,” you pointed out.

 “Yeah. I do,” he agreed. “Something more, you know?”

 “I say take a chance,” you breathed out. “You never know what could happen. Besides, I know you. Any girl would be lucky to be with you.”

 “Thanks, Y/N,” he smiled. “What about you? I know you haven’t really been single for all that long, but have you considered putting yourself out there?”

 “The more I think about it, I’ve been by myself for a lot longer. After all, Ketch and Jo have been fooling around for two years behind my back. We weren’t like most couples. People wouldn’t say oh you guys are so cute together and that shit. Ketch was and has always been closed off. He wasn’t open with me the same way I was him. We didn’t have a good solid relationship when I think about the kind of relationship I want to pursue in the future. It wasn’t even about sex for me.  And to be honest, Ketch and I didn’t really sleep together all that often the more I think about it. Our last few months before our wedding was probably the most we were together. Probably because of Jo. As much as there was wrong with our relationship, I know it won’t be the same with someone else. I know that I’ll meet someone and things will just click,” you paused. “I’ll be able to have sex with the lights on, and I’ll be able to say no when I’m not in the mood and have him respect me. I’ll be able to cry and he won’t freak out, and I’ll be able to make him laugh when he needs it. I was so afraid of so many things when I was with Ketch, because I knew he’d leave me, and I didn’t want my mom to say the horrible things that she already has to me. I’ve accepted now that I’m never going to be good enough for her and I don’t care that I’m not. I would much rather be with someone who loved me for who I am. Someone who doesn’t care that I don’t get along with her and understands why. I don’t want that same unrealistic expectations the next time around.”

 “Your mom really shouldn’t matter all that much anyways. No offense but she’s a bitch,” he chuckled.

 “You’re not wrong about that one,” you let out a laugh. “Someday I’ll put myself out there again. I just want to be one hundred percent sure that I know the person I’m going for this time around. Someone that doesn’t have hidden agendas, or girls he likes to fuck behind my back.”

 “Can I ask you who this Jo chick is?” he cocked his eyebrow, looking over at you for a split second.

 “Jo Harvelle -”

 “You have to be fucking kidding me,” he said loudly.

 “Oh god, you know her too?” your jaw dropped.

 “Yeah, I do. Quite well actually,” he stated. “When I was growing up, my dad brought me around the garage a lot so he could show me the ropes of a car. At the time, my Uncle Bobby was dating her mom so Jo was around quite a bit in the summertime. Her mom and Bobby didn’t last too long thankfully. Bobby met a really nice woman and he’s been with her for ten years, I want to say. When school started back up again, Jo thought we were friends and it stayed like that for awhile. It was fine for the most part. Awkward at best. When we were in high school, she made it known that she had a crush on me. Flirting in the hallway. Trying to sit with me at lunch. She forced herself on me at a party after she had too much to drink, and I had to leave. She and Ketch were pretty close in high school too from what I remember. Which is why I couldn’t understand why she was chasing after me. She’s younger, and I saw her like a kid sister. She was always looking for male attention.”

 “Figures. She slept around a lot when we were friends. I thought it was her way of dealing with things after her mom died. Everytime we went out, she took someone home. Never thought it would be my at the time fiancee,” you told him. “The more I think about everything that’s happened over time, the more I wish I had realized what was going on. I wish I would have picked up on how poorly Ketch treated me, and done something about it. I wish I would have realized that Jo wasn’t really a friend to me. I wish I would have paid more attention, and knew my worth more than I did.”

 “But you know it now, and you’re not in the situation with either of them anymore,” he reminded you. “You have me looking out for you now, and I’m not going to let you go through something like that again. And, I’m not going to steal your boyfriend either.”

 “Haha!” you giggled. “Funny!”

 “It was a little funny,” he smirked. “I mean it though. I’ve got your back, if you decide you want to try again with someone else. You seem to be doing much better since our talk last week.”

 “I feel a lot better since we talked,” you admitted. “It’s hard for me to open up, I know that. I never wanted to be too much for you either. You are already going through so much as it is. Talking to you is easy. I like talking to you about everything. The big things. The little things too. You give me a sense of home.”

 “You can always talk to me,” he assured you.

 It wasn’t too long after that when your eyes began to grow tired. You knew that if you rested on the door, you’d feel every bump. You decided to take a chance. After all, you and Dean were close. You wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise. He was a safe driver and the backseat was free for the most part.

 “I’m going to see if I can get some sleep,” you yawned. “You mind if I crawl in the back?”

 “If you want,” he nodded. “Or you can rest your head in my lap. My leg might be a little more comfortable than the bags back there.”

 “You wouldn’t mind?”

 “Nah. I’d rather you be comfortable,” he smiled. “‘Sides, I’ll play with your hair every once in a while. Help you relax.”

 “Do you want to marry me?” you joked.

 “In a heartbeat,” he winked. “I’ll change routes to Vegas.”

 “It’d be the best wedding ever,” you giggled.

 “Get some sleep, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe.”

                                     __________________________

 You had no idea how long you were asleep for. What you woke up to was Dean running his fingers through your hair as he hummed along with the quiet radio. You couldn’t help but smile. You were more than content with your life at that moment. It made you wonder if there was a chance that you and Dean could be something more. More than roommates and friends. You got along well, and you had a good chemistry between the two of you. You could see yourself with someone like him. The real question was, could he see himself with someone like you? Did he like you in the same way you liked him?

 You shifted in his lap, adjusting yourself a little. Dean still continued to run his fingers through the locks of your hair. It made you wonder if he liked it just as much as you did. If he would be okay with you doing the same to him.

 “Sweetheart, are you awake?” Dean asked softly.

 “Maybe,” you chuckled. “You need something?”

 “I’m going to pull over at the next gas station. We need gas, and I’m probably going to pee myself if we wait any longer,” he admitted.

 “Okay. How long was I asleep?” you asked him, yawning in the process.

 “About three hours,” he revealed.

 “Oh my god. I’m sorry!” you breathed out.

 “Don’t worry about it. You’re a pretty sound sleeper. I’d rather you rest,” he half smiled.

 “Thank you for letting me sleep in your lap, and for playing with my hair,” you told him.

 “You won’t be thanking me when you see what your hair looks like,” he let out a laugh. You sat up instantly, looking in the rearview mirror. Some of your hair was sticking up a little. Nothing you couldn’t fix. You’d much rather his hand in your hair anyways. It was the most comforting feeling.

 “I think this is a good look for me,” you giggled. “Why don’t I drive after our pit stop? Give you a chance to nap.”

 “Yeah okay,” he nodded. “I trust you enough to drive my car.”

 “Gee thanks,” you shook your head with a side smile.

 Dean stopped at the closest gas and sip. He pumped the gas first before heading in to use the bathroom. You sat in the car, checking your phone to see how much further along you were until you arrived to Sam. It was still a long drive, and you wouldn’t be there until tomorrow night at the earliest. You knew all the travel was going to knock you out.

 Dean came out of the gas and sip with a paper bag in his hand. You wondered just what he could have picked up in there when you had a lot of stuff in the car already. You slid over to the drivers side, allowing Dean to sit in the passengers.

 “Alright, I’m hungry so I picked up a little something from the diner they had in there. I’ve got fries, pie, and two burgers. Figured you’d be hungry too.”

 “Thanks Dean,” you smiled. “I am actually. It’s going to be a while on the road. We’re not pulling over until eight if we’re going to get there by tomorrow.”

 You were on the road, eating your burgers and fries. Dean gave you a couple of bites of his pecan pie, feeding it to you from the fork while you drove. Eventually, he decided he was going to shut his eyes for a little while. That’s when you offered your lap for him to sleep this time. You took the chance to run your fingers through his hair, just like he did you.

 Being on the open road with nothing but the soft sounds of one of his cassette tapes playing, and his head in your lap, gave you a lot of time to think about everything. Dean had been a part of your life for a little over two months now. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that time had flown by. Dean was a big part of your life, and you wanted him to be an even bigger part of your life. You wanted to wake up next to him everyday. He was the one you looked forward to coming home to, and spending time with. He saw sides of you that no one else saw. The sides you didn’t want anyone else to see. You just wondered if he saw you as more than a friend. If he ever could see you as someone he wanted to be with.

 You knew more about him than a lot of people did. At least, you liked to think you did. Dean clearly didn’t share a whole lot, and he shared quite a bit with you when he became more comfortable with you. You knew he didn’t have many people in his life, and if he did, they clearly didn’t stick around long enough. You couldn’t quite understand why. Dean was easy to get along with, and he made damn sure he was there when someone he cared about needed him. Dean had been there for you more times than you could count. Maybe it was the same for everyone else, and they just never did the same for him. You had no idea what happened between him and his brother. You just hoped they could fix things on this trip.

 “You’re comfortable,” Dean muttered, making you laugh.

 “Thanks, Dean.”

 “How long was I asleep?” he asked.

 “Two hours or so,” you answered.

 “Sweet,” he yawned, sitting up from your lap. He rubbed at his eyes a little, trying to wipe away the sleep. You had about an hour left to go before you were in Boulder. “You tired of driving yet?”

 “Eh. It’s only three in the afternoon. If you want me to drive further, I can. The sooner we get to Sam, the better, right?”

 “Yeah that’s true. I’ll let you drive for a couple more hours, then we’ll switch. Whenever you want to switch let me know,” he offered.

 “Yeah I will.”

 It was just after eight thirty when you pulled into the parking lot of a motel. If your mother could see you and where you were staying for the night, she would throw a fit. She wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this. It almost made you smile to think about it. It reminded you of how much you weren’t like her. How different you were was one of the things you were proud of. This didn’t bother you one bit and that was because you were doing this with someone you deeply cared about.

 Dean had gotten the key to the room while you ran to grab something to eat for dinner from the restaurant across the street. You managed to grab a pizza with a bunch of toppings like you talked about earlier, and some drinks. Dean was waiting for you outside the room with the keys in his hand.

 The room wasn’t anything special. For eighty five dollars a night, it wasn’t the worst. There was only one bed and it was pretty small for a queen. If anything, it looked like a double. Not that it mattered all that much. You and Dean had shared a bed a few times before. It was nothing new. You were just going to be a little closer than you were at home. You were going to have to be more respectful of his space.

 “When I was growing up, my dad liked to take me and my brother on road trips like this. Time for us to spend together. Since we lost our mom so young, he knew it was important to spend time together. Granted, my dad and my brother never saw eye to eye. I always had to share a bed with one of them, because they refused to look at each other until we moved on from wherever we were. But this just reminds me of those good times growing up. I’ve never really had anyone to do something like this with.”

 “I know you said you’re not big on commitment, but did you ever have a girlfriend that you did little road trips with?” you asked.

 “Nah, we stayed in town. The girls I’ve been with weren’t into seedy motel rooms and long trips in the car,” he shrugged. “What about you and douchewad?”

 “Once thankfully,” you chuckled. “Spring break, freshman year of college. He thought it would be a good idea to head down to Miami. He also thought it would be a good idea to have six shots of tequila with no chaser and he passed out. He refused to go to the beach because he hated sand and he would only eat out of five star restaurants. On spring break, you would be lucky to find one. He complained the entire time that he was going to get an infection or disease. He wouldn’t be caught dead in a motel like this. He and my mother were more alike in that way.”

 “And stuff like this motel room doesn’t bug you?” he furrowed his brows.

 “No. Not really,” you shook your head. “I’ve never been that kind of girl. But if I see one bug, be prepared for me to freak out. I don’t do bugs of any kind.”

 “Okay,” he smiled. “I have to say. I’m really happy you’re not with Ketch anymore. I don’t think you would have lived your life to the fullest if you married him.”

 “Me either. I certainly wouldn’t have done any road trips like this. Or been allowed to talk to you. As upset as I was when I found out about him and Jo, and everything that happened. It’s given me a lot of perspective on what I deserve, and how poorly I was treated. The next time I date, I’m going to make sure its someone who isn’t a bag of dicks.”

 “Good,” he smiled. “You look happier.”

 The pizza was finished quickly. Both of you were pretty hungry, and you were actually surprised you could eat that amount. You both showered and brushed your teeth. You knew you had to get to sleep early. Especially if you were leaving in the morning, and early at that. You and Dean wanted to be at Stanford by tomorrow night, and that meant at least another thirteen hours of driving.

 You climbed into bed first, adjusting the covers. Dean was out of the bathroom, wearing a fitted t-shirt and a pair of black boxers. You couldn’t help but stare at him a little longer than usual. You found yourself doing that lately. It wasn’t just when he was in his boxers. It was anytime. When he was helping you make dinner, or when he walked in the room.

 He crawled into the small bed, settling next to you. It was just after ten and you knew you had to get to sleep soon or else you’d be grumpy come the morning. Not that you weren’t going to be anyways.

 “This bed is super lumpy,” you chuckled.

 “Tell me about it. I think my car would have been more comfortable,” he scoffed.

 “Your car is more comfortable,” you pointed out. “Let’s just make the best of this. Tomorrow, we can get a nice hotel room with a hot tub and we’ll forget all about this room.”

 “Good plan,” he let out a laugh. “G’night sweetheart.”

 “Night handsome.”

 Your body slowly began to wake. You could feel the light in the room, and you knew then you had to get up within the next couple of minutes. You nuzzled into the pillow a little more, only to find it a little harder than you remembered the night before. Your eyes shot wide open, realizing that you were no longer sleeping on your pillow, but on Dean’s chest. Your arm wrapped around his middle. No wonder you felt well rested. You fell asleep on your best friend.

 He slowly began to stir beneath you, and you knew there was no way you were getting away with this one. He was going to find out either way. You may as well take the punishment for what it was. You enjoyed it, hell more than you should. You weren’t going to deny yourself that, not after everything you’ve been through.

 “Sweetheart, you awake?” his deep, gruff voice muttered. That’s when you noticed it. His hand on the small of your back. His thumb rubbing circles on your spine. If he was uncomfortable, he certainly didn’t show it.

 “Hmm, yeah,” you yawned. “Time to get ready?”

 “Yeah. Long day ahead of us,” he reminded you. “Should arrive there tonight.”

 “Hot tub,” you chuckled.

 “Non lumpy bed. Although you seem to be pretty comfortable,” he teased.

 “I didn’t keep you up, did I?”

 “Nah,” he let out a little laugh, tightening his grip on you. “Bed was small anyways.”

 “Definitely not a queen,” you stated. “We better get out of here. We’ll grab some breakfast on the road.”

 “Sounds good.”

 You were up and out of the motel room within fifteen minutes. Both of you had a coffee and a breakfast sandwich, ready to take on another long day of driving. Dean decided to take the first driving shift. You searched through his cassette tapes to find something different to listen to, but also something of his standards. You could only play certain things in his car.

 Your mind was constantly on the fact that you had somehow fallen asleep cuddling him. He didn’t make a big deal out of it, but to you it was. This was Dean, your best friend Dean. The man you had strong feelings for, Dean. It felt so great to cuddle with him the way you did. It was great to feel safe in his hold, and to just be cuddled. It reminded you a lot of what you didn’t have with Ketch. He hated cuddling, especially at night. He slept as far away from you as possible on the nights you did share a bed. It was probably one of the many reasons why he didn’t want to live together until marriage. Personal issues, as he called it.

 “What’s on your mind, pretty girl?” he asked after about an hour on the road. You turned to look at him with a soft smile. His eyes were softer than usual as he looked at you.

 “Oh you know, stuff,” you teased, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

 “Spill it,” he chuckled.

 “Last night, I didn’t make you uncomfortable, or cross any lines, did I?” you questioned. Worry was evident in your voice.

 “No. You didn’t,” he shook his head with a smirk. “I’m actually surprised it hasn’t happened before.”

 “Why do you say that?” you asked curiously.

 “Because you’re a really affectionate person, and you crave that very same affection back,” he pointed out. “You like it when I play with your hair, and squeeze you tightly when I hug you. You played with my hair for awhile yesterday. Since the first day I met you, you’ve been touchy and you probably didn’t even realize you were. You helped me get across the road, you hugged me tightly, you rubbed between my shoulders. You’re an affectionate person, and you shouldn’t have to hold back. I don’t mind cuddling, or hugs. Even when you kissed me on the cheek, it wasn’t weird. I accept you for who you are, Y/N.”

 “You know you’ve basically just given me permission right?” you giggled. Dean let out a laugh, shaking his head.

 “I know. I’m cool with it,” he assured you. “I like cuddling too.”

 The day was spent the same as the previous day. One of you napped while the other drove. You stopped for lunch and a few bathroom breaks. You talked about little things that were insignificant to some, but not to you. You learned his favourite kinds of pie, and his favourite colour. You learned that he had his first kiss at sixteen and that he knew how to play the guitar. The little things that were common knowledge. You mostly wanted to know the things that only a best friend would know. He learned the very same about you.

 You played a couple of games. One on your phone that was much like twenty questions, but this was a list of about one hundred. Some were completely random, others were strange. Either way, it killed about four hours.

 “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” you told him. “You ready?”

 “Yeah,” he nodded. “Hopefully he’ll want to see me.”

 “At the end of the day, you’re his brother. He’d be crazy not to,” you reminded him.

 “Where would I be without you?” he chuckled.

 “Do you really want me to answer that?” you shook your head with a smirk. “We’re getting chicken for dinner tonight, just so you know.”

 “Fine by me,” he smiled. “I could go for some too.”

 “And pie,” you added in. “Need pie.”

 You pulled into the apartment complex that Dean had pointed to. This was the last known address he had for Sam. If he didn’t live there, then someone had to know where so you could look next. You parked the car, cutting the ignition. You could tell Dean was nervous, but excited at the same time. He didn’t want his brother to turn him away.

 His brother's apartment was on the third floor. Room fourteen. Dean glanced up at the building, taking a deep breath. You smiled at him, slipping your hand into his for reassurance. You knew he wasn’t going to move unless you forced him to. You were a little nervous yourself. You were meeting his brother for the first time. It was the only real family he had. Bobby wasn’t his blood, technically. You wondered if Sam looked like his older brother, or if he looked more like one parent and Dean looked like the other. Either way, you were going to find out.

 “Here we are,” he breathed out, releasing your hand.

 “You’ve got this,” you reassured him. “Time to see your brother.”

Dean raised his hand, knocking three times on the door before taking a step back. You placed your hand between his shoulders, much like you had done before. You could hear a little commotion going on from behind the door, which meant someone was definitely home.

 The door unlocked, and opened up just a little. You swallowed hard, suddenly growing a little nervous yourself. You took a step back behind Dean, knowing you’d have him to protect you, in case Sam wasn’t the one living there anymore and it was some big drunk dude.

 “Dean?” a voice called out from the doorway. You glanced up to find a taller man with longer brown hair. His brows were furrowed, and he was more surprised than anything. That had to be his brother.

 “Hiya Sammy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 9 coming Tuesday!

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response is what keeps me sharing stories like this! 

[bondsmagii]

Regarding beloved toys becoming real a la the velveteen rabbit

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Matthew Calhoun, regarding a living childhood toy. Original statement given January 23, 1998. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

I didn’t have any friends as a kid. I’m not exaggerating – I didn’t have any. There’s always that one kid in every class who’s just… well, a reject, really. It sounds harsh to say, but I don’t really blame them for it. Of course, I would have preferred it if they’d just left me alone; ignored me rather than tormenting me, but that’s how it goes. I can’t excuse their cruelty, but I can excuse their dislike of me. I really, really can’t blame them. Now I’m an adult, looking back on it all, I really… well, is it bad to say it? I suppose I should just be honest. I’m about to admit to much worse. Alright – I hate my child self. I’m embarrassed by him. If I had a kid like that, I—I don’t know if I could say I wouldn’t love him, but let’s just say my sympathy would be limited if he was getting teased. I was unbearable as a child. I was a swotty little know-it-all; I snitched on my classmates; I always had a smart answer for everything. I’d try and get people to talk to me or hang out with me and when they didn’t want to, I’d stick my hand up and tell the teachers they were being mean. I was a grubby little kid, too, which wasn’t really my fault at all because my parents didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up, but I had other gross habits I could have probably avoided. I didn’t like to brush my teeth, so my breath always stank. I picked my nose in class with absolutely no shame, wiping it underneath the desk. God, when I think about it now I could just throttle myself. Like I said, I don’t excuse the cruelty that my classmates – and sometimes my teachers – inflicted on me, but I do think back and wonder why I managed to feel so victimised over the fact nobody wanted to hang out with me. I mean, who the hell would? This, along with the fact I didn’t have much to do at home thanks to my parents’ low income, combined to make me both very bored and very lonely, and that’s what led to the reason I’m here today. It’s a confession, as much as anything else – the only reason I don’t want to go to the police is because I know they won’t believe me at all, whereas at least I stand a little chance of being believed here. Maybe then you can judge me accordingly. It’s what I deserve.

When I was eleven years old, I murdered one of my classmates. Her name was Vanessa Smith, and the newspapers reported that she had been attacked and mauled by dogs while walking home one late afternoon. Her injuries were so severe they couldn’t think of what else could do it. Of course, no dog was ever found. They tested so many of them, inspecting them for traces of blood, for pieces of human remains in their waste. Nothing showed up, because no dog killed Vanessa Smith. It was me. Alright, not by my own hand, but I was the cause of it. Let me try to explain.

When I was four or five, my grandmother read me a story called The Velveteen Rabbit. It’s a children’s story about a toy rabbit who comes to life because the little boy it belongs to loves it so much. I was fascinated by the idea, and for years believed that such a thing was possible. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have any toy animals, or really any toys to begin with, because my parents really had no money at all. We lived in a tiny house where all of the furniture was on loan; we had one sofa, a wooden chair, a bare mattress to sleep on each, and really not much more. My parents were on a steady upward trajectory as I grew up, so by the time I made it to high school we were at least managing to present as normal, but when I was a kid my toys were whatever I could find in the garden. My parents would send me out the moment I got up and I’d come back in as it was getting dark; in the winter they let me stay out until bedtime, because it was warmer for me to be running around outside than sitting still in our heatless home. Those were cold, lonely hours, and as I grew I found myself thinking back time and time again to that story – about the power to give something life because it was so loved. I thought this was fully possible. I was only a kid, and kids will believe anything; that was also my general understanding of how babies were made – that two people loved one another so much that they created a third. Well, I didn’t have another person to help me, and I didn’t want a little brother or sister. I wanted a friend. The thought that I could bring a toy to life myself, just out of love, utterly consumed me.

First, though, I needed a toy. Even second-hand toys were out of the question, money-wise, and I had no friends to ask for cast-offs. In the end I improvised. I found a scrap of fabric from one of the old sheets my mother had fashioned into curtains, and I lay it flat on the ground and filled the centre with a few rocks for weight, and as many dry leaves as I could find. Then I pulled all four of the corners up, twisted the fabric down to meet the filling, and tied it off with an elastic band. The end result looked kind of like a radish, I guess, or a strangely shaped ghost. Still, a felt-tip pen gave it eyes and a friendly smile, and I even drew a couple of fangs at the corners of its mouth, just to make it a little more boyish. I called him Sammy, and he became my best friend. He went everywhere with me aside from school, because I knew damn well what the other kids would do to him. Outside of school, though? We were inseparable. We ate breakfast and dinner together, we went roaming around together, he watched me as I dug around in the back garden or on the trails behind the house. He sat on the toilet seat as I had my cold baths; he slept next to me in bed. When he got a little crushed and out of shape, or the leaves disintegrated beyond anything I could shape them back into, I would play at putting him to sleep so I could “operate” on him and fill him back up again. I still remember the glorious day that one of my parents’ pillows split beyond repair, and my mother, meaning well, I’m sure, gave me some of the stuffing for Sammy’s head. After that he was almost a proper stuffed toy, soft instead of jagged, but I think it was that improvement that doomed me. He got stronger after that. I started to dream about him.

I was eight when I first made Sammy. I was ten when the dreams started. At first he would just be there, normal as ever. I would be carrying him around, we’d be doing our thing. Then one day the dream was different. The two of us were sitting at the breakfast table and it was dark outside, but the sky was a strange, beating red. Sammy was sad; I knew this somehow. I asked him what was wrong, and he said to me, “I’ll never be a real boy without a heart”. Then he lay his head on the table and began to sob. I woke up, feeling utterly wretched; I wasn’t even scared. I pulled Sammy to me and cried myself. I was utterly despondent. I knew I had to do something, but what? That was when I realised I could make him a heart. It might not be great, but it would be something, right? That very morning I drew a heart on a piece of paper, coloured it in my most vibrant red, and tucked it into Sammy’s fabric, securely tied underneath the elastic band. I thought he seemed much happier after that, and increasingly I was certain that he wasn’t in the same place as I’d left him when I got back from school. This excited me, because I was sure it would work somehow. I loved Sammy more than anything. He was my only friend in the world. I knew that some day soon, Sammy would have to come to life.

The hearts kept getting crushed out of shape, or fraying, or otherwise getting worn. Every time they did, Sammy would whisper to me – no longer in dreams now. In my head, in my ear. His breath tickling my cheek, smelling of mulch. Always the same things. “I’ll never be a real boy without a heart.” I kept making new ones but he started getting angrier; they never lasted. “I’ll never be a real boy without a heart! I’ll never be a real boy without a heart!” I wanted to do my best for him but he was starting to scare me. I didn’t know what to do. I told him this. For the first time, I got the impression he was mad at me for being sad, when he never had been before. But what could I do?

I got my answer the summer I turned eleven. The rabbit had been left right out on the trail I always walked to get from my parents’ house and into the woods behind it. It had been mauled by something – a fox, I thought – but not eaten. Its chest was open, and its small little heart was right there for the taking. I don’t know why I did it. It was disgusting, and what’s more I knew that if I put a real heart in Sammy it was going to rot, and stink, and Mum would make me throw him out. I knew all this, but I still couldn’t stop myself. I walked quite calmly to the rabbit, carefully pinched its heart between my fingers, and pulled it free. It came so easily. Nothing needed to be cut or wrenched; it just slid out, and within moments it was tucked inside Sammy. I heard it begin to beat.

Sammy wasn’t mine after that. I still tried to love him, but I was scared of him. I couldn’t understand what had happened. I thought love was supposed to be a good thing, you know? That’s what I’d been told. I wondered what it meant, that my love had created this. Everyone else’s love created nice things, fun things, safe things, warm things. My love had created this… this monster, this wretched little thing… I loved it out of fear. I was too afraid to let it know of my contempt, because I didn’t know what it would do to me. I think it knew anyway, of course. I think it knew I feared it; I think it realised, on some level, that I still had some of the power. I could throw it into the fireplace, for example. I thought about that a few times; even thought about asking my mum or dad to do it for me, act like I grew out of Sammy and was embarrassed of him. Sammy could sense it. I could have done it, I think, when it had the rabbit heart. Only a small heart, a rabbit heart. Not good for too much exertion. But I hesitated, because I was scared, and I thought if I ignored it and just left the heart to finally fail – because it had to eventually, right? – Sammy would be back to begging me in dreams and I could get rid of him – of it – once and for all.

That’s not what happened. I was out playing in the woods, must have been August. It was near to school starting back, and I was stressed about it because for me that was a line in the sand. I’d tried to tell myself I’d get rid of Sammy before I started Big School, high school, you know, but I hadn’t done anything and I was really wigging out about it. Sammy was with me, of course, sitting propped up against a rock while I dug around in the mud by a small stream. I guess it was the running of the water that muffled the footsteps, because when I finally heard them and turned, it was too late. Vanessa was stepping out from between the bushes, and her eyes had locked on Sammy. She wasn’t ever overly cruel to me at school, but she laughed with the rest of them whenever I was being put through the torment of the day, and like all kids that age she had it in her to be cruel. I was frightened of her, in the same way I was frightened of all my classmates, and the look on her face as she looked between me and Sammy told me this was going to be wholly unpleasant. I just adopted the stance, you know: feet together, eyes down. Waiting for abuse. She asked me if this was my toy, and then she went on to tell me how stupid and ugly it was, and then she went on about me getting some real toys, oh, wait, you can’t afford that… normal stuff, and at least she wasn’t going to hit me, because the girls never beat me up. She did go to pick up Sammy, though, and I yelled at her not to. Not out of any protectiveness towards Sammy, but because I was scared. Vanessa didn’t know Sammy like I did. She hadn’t noticed Sammy’s beady little drawn-on eyes somehow managing to swivel, to follow her, to lock onto her. The way his smile widened slightly, and I finally noticed how many teeth he had.

“I’ll never be a real boy without a heart.”

She reached down to snatch Sammy up. She was saying she was going to throw him into the stream. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even call out a final warning. She reached down and he was on her. I still didn’t see him move. He was just… there, and there was blood, and I could hear something tearing, and Vanessa was screaming so loudly. I should have helped. I should have tried to do something, but I was too scared. When I finally managed to move it was to run away. I fled through the woods, not bothering to keep to the trails. I ran blindly, crashing through the undergrowth, falling, dragging myself up. When I got home my parents were both at work. I scrubbed myself, scrubbed the worst of the mud from my clothing, tried to breathe. Tried to convince myself that I had seen it wrong. Vanessa would be fine, right? I even managed to tell myself Sammy was scaring her for me, sticking up for me. I waited in terror for Sammy to come home, but he never did. I was glad, but I also… I mean, it’s always better when you can see the danger, right? The thought that Sammy was out there, of what he might do… but I never saw Sammy again.

Vanessa – or what was left of her – was found the following morning. The woods aren’t big. Pretty much as soon as it was light, search parties found her. I don’t think anyone was happy with the dog story. I’ve avoided looking it up over the years, but I’ve heard things here and there. I know they say that the injuries inflicted on her were severe, even for a large dog. It’s more like something you would expect from a bear, or a big cat. Plus none of her was eaten, I don’t think. I mean, I’ve never heard it. Nobody suspected me, because why would they? My parents didn’t even ask about where Sammy had gone. I guess they figured I’d finally grown out of it.

I don’t know if there’s anything you can do with this statement, or if you’ll even believe it. I doubt there’s much room for research. I just wanted to tell somebody. Maybe if I was religious this is the point where I might go to confession, ask to be absolved. I’m not religious, though, and I’m not sure I can be absolved of this. That’s it.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

Mr Calhoun is right. Not much can be done in regards to looking into this further. Attempts to reach Mr Calhoun for a follow-up statement were thoroughly unsuccessful thanks to the fact that he committed suicide shortly after making this statement. The records show that eleven-year-old Vanessa Smith was indeed mauled to death by a large dog or dogs in August 1971, though the story never really gained traction in national newspapers and further information is scarce. Martin spent an afternoon looking through online newspaper archives for the area and managed to find only one piece of new information; something that could easily be dramatization considering the fact it stopped being reported within twenty-four hours. I include it here only because it seems significant regarding Mr Calhoun’s story. Apparently young Miss Smith’s body was badly mauled but mostly uneaten – there was only one missing body part, believed eaten, and that was her heart.

Aside from that, there is nothing new to say about this one.

End recording.

[emospritelet]

Heatstroke - chapter 12

Last time, Gold got teased by Swanfire, Lacey got teased by Ruby, and both of them were convinced that the other hates them.

[AO3]

x

Gold rummaged in the cupboard for a plastic tub, fishing one out and setting it on the kitchen counter. He could hear Emma and Neal in the lounge, changing Henry’s diaper and getting him ready for the trip home. They had spent a pleasant Sunday at the park, picnicking on a blanket in the warm sunshine, but it was time for his family to head back to Boston. Gold opened his cake tins, cutting a thick wedge of the date and walnut cake he had made and putting it in the plastic tub. He added half a dozen stem ginger cookies and put on the lid, carrying it through to the lounge.

“Here,” he said, offering it to Emma. “Something for the road.”

“Thanks.” She opened up the tub and took a deep inhale before putting the lid back on. “Smells delicious. You’re too good to us.”

“Well, I have no one else to spoil,” said Gold, with a grin. “Besides, it stops me eating it.”

Neal drained his glass of milk, setting it down on the little table next to Gold’s chair, and Gold took a seat as he watched them both pack away Henry’s changing mat and diapers. Henry pushed to his feet, toddling towards Gold and reaching up with flailing arms. He caught the empty glass, sending it flying to the ground. Emma looked up at the crash of glass, and winced.

“Dammit!” she said, as Henry began to cry. “Sorry.”

“No matter.” Gold scooped Henry up and bounced him on his knee. “No damage done. Well, except to the glass.”

“Yeah, no fixing that,” said Emma, frowning at the broken glass. “Neal, could you get a brush or something?”

“Dustpan’s under the sink,” called Gold, as Neal headed for the kitchen.

“I got it.”

Emma squatted down and began stacking curved pieces of glass on her palm.

“Just leave it for Neal,” said Gold. “You’ll cut yourself.”

“It’s fine, I got - ow!”

There was a tinkling of glass as Emma dropped the shards. She winced, sucking a cut finger, and Gold shook his head.

“I did say.”

“Yeah…” She inspected the cut. “You got a Band-Aid?”

“Kitchen drawer,” said Gold, and Emma nodded, pushing to her feet.

He looked down at Henry, who had stopped crying, but had grasped his tie and was chewing on it. Gold rolled his eyes, pulling it from Henry’s grasp and sighing as he saw the extensive patch of drool.

“I think a teething ring might be more beneficial, what do you say?” he said, bouncing him on his knee again. Henry gurgled happily, and Gold grinned, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Okay, let me get that mess.” Neal entered with a dustpan and brush, squatting down to sweep up the shards and tiny specks of glass. 

“I’ll run the vacuum over it when you’ve gone,” said Gold, still bouncing Henry. “You will give me a call when you get home?”

“Sure.”

“I mean as soon as you get home, not ten o’clock at night when I’ve already convinced myself you’re all dead in a ditch.”

“Dad...”

“Fine.” Gold transferred Henry to his other knee. “It’s been great to see you all. I’ll try to drive down to Boston in the next few weeks, if you like.”

“You’re always welcome, you know that.” Neal finished brushing up the broken glass. “Although sleeping on our couch can’t be good for your leg.”

“Well, I can always get a hotel for the night,” said Gold. “And you’re welcome to come here whenever you want to get out of the city. I don’t exactly have much company otherwise.”

“You sure about that?”

Emma’s voice from the doorway made him look around, and he felt his mouth fall open in horror. She was smirking at him, one hand raised and a very small pair of coral-coloured panties swinging from an outstretched finger.

“Where the hell did you get those?” asked Neal.

“Kitchen drawer,” said Emma, and raised an eyebrow at Gold. “I’m guessing they’re not yours, so how did they end up in your kitchen, hmm?”

Gold could feel his mouth opening and closing, and snapped it shut.

“Small…” Emma turned the panties this way and that. “Coral pink - nice colour by the way - and very, very - lacy.”

She was grinning at him, and he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

“I assure you there’s a perfectly innocent explanation,” he said.

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear it,” chuckled Emma. “You gonna try to tell us you keep her underwear in the kitchen drawer because you secretly hate each other?”

“It was the cat,” said Gold lamely.

“Oh, come on…”

“I’m serious!” he insisted.

“That is the worst attempt at a lie I ever heard,” said Neal, grinning.

“It’s true!” Gold regretted not throwing the panties away when he had the chance. “I kept finding them in the lounge. Six pairs! And a bra!”

“And the cat put them there,” said Neal, in a flat voice. “Right...”

“I saw him do it!” insisted Gold.

“I could make the obvious joke about pussy,” said Emma, “but you’re my father-in-law and it’d be weird.”

“And yet you said it anyway.” Neal ran his hands over his face with a groan, and she chuckled.

“Sorry. Look, Pops, if she’s leaving her underwear in your kitchen she definitely likes you.”

“She hates me!” snapped Gold. “She bloody well threw a drink over me when I tried to give them back to her! Called me a pervert!”

“You two…” Emma shook her head. “Worst flirts in the entire world.”

“Calling someone a pervert is not flirting!”

“Would you just admit you like her?”

She tossed the panties to him, and Gold fumbled as he grabbed at them.

“Certainly not,” he said coolly. “And the feeling is extremely mutual.” 

“Fine,” sighed Emma. “Just - why don’t you try talking to her? Nice, normal conversation. Maybe buy her a coffee.”

“It’s not as though we have anything in common,” said Gold. “Thankfully she isn’t a tenant, and I doubt she has an interest in antiques. There’s no reason for our paths to cross.”

x

Lacey had decided that if she were ever to have the poor judgement to agree to another breakfast interview, she certainly wouldn’t conduct it in Granny’s Diner.

Sidney had suggested it, what with Granny’s being the beating heart of Storybrooke, and Zelena West wanting to emphasise her community spirit. Lacey had thought it was definitely worth a try. Who could hold back when faced with hot coffee and fresh muffins, after all?

Unfortunately, the diner was busy during the breakfast service, and while the noise meant that their conversation wouldn’t be difficult to overhear, it also meant that she had an audience of curious townsfolk watching her every move as she greeted her interviewee. Two men on the nearest table didn’t hide their interest; one of them she knew was called Leroy, who had a bristling black beard and a permanent scowl on his face. The other she didn’t know by name, but he was perhaps a little older than Leroy, with sleepy eyes and an easy, relaxed manner. The two always ate breakfast together, and she hadn’t worked out if they were colleagues or boyfriends. They certainly bickered enough that it could have gone either way.

Leroy took a bite of his breakfast muffin, watching as she stood up to greet Zelena West. The little she knew of the woman hadn’t impressed her, and meeting her properly did nothing to change that. Zelena looked her up and down when Lacey introduced herself, lip curling a little before she bared her teeth in a smile. Reddish curls fell around her shoulders beneath a wide-brimmed black hat that Lacey privately thought made her look like a witch.

“Are you Sidney’s office girl, or something?” she asked.

“No, I’m conducting the interview,” said Lacey. “We spoke on the phone, remember?”

“Yes, but I presumed you were - qualified.” Zelena appeared to be checking the length of her skirt. “How old are you, anyway? You look as though you should still be in school.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” said Lacey, trying not to let her smile turn into a grimace. “Mostly from horny scumbags with no brains and no class. I’m sure you’re not like that, right?”

Leroy appeared to choke on his muffin before coughing loudly. Zelena shot her a narrow-eyed look, and Lacey’s smile widened. 

“Why don’t you take a seat?” she suggested. “Coffee? How about a little something sweet? The banana-pecan muffins are great.”

“I never eat carbs in the morning,” said Zelena. “Just coffee will be fine. Black.”

Lacey nodded, and raised a hand to attract Ruby’s attention. She could already tell that this was going to be one of her more irritating interviewees.

Once they had their coffee, Lacey started with the questions. She made notes as Zelena talked about her difficult early life, her experience of the foster system and how that had made her determined to make life better for others. A few of the facts she dropped made Lacey’s nose twitch in interest, the sense of a story untold, a story that it would take more investigation to unearth. A topic for another day, perhaps.

“So what made you move to Storybrooke?” she asked. “Seems a weird choice. I mean as far as charity goes, I’m guessing the resources here are way more limited than they are in New York.”

“Perhaps,” said Zelena. “But there again the competition for the funds raised is far fiercer. At least in a small town, those that give so generously can see the benefits almost immediately.”

“I guess,” said Lacey, scribbling hard. “Pretty weird what happened with the nuns, though, huh? I heard there was some mix-up at Miners’ Day. Some inaccuracy in the total raised?”

“Oh, the nun put in charge of their stall was completely hopeless,” said Zelena, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “She was mistaken in her accounting, that’s all. I heard it’s not the first time.”

“Oh, so was that the same with the auction held this spring?” asked Lacey. “I spoke to a couple of people involved with that, and it’s weird. None of them seem to agree on the amount that went to the children’s ward.”

Zelena’s nostrils flared.

“I thought this interview was supposed to be about the dance I’ve organised, not past events,” she snapped. “The entire town is looking forward to it! I want this article to encourage as many people to attend as possible! Do charitable works count for nothing with you?”

“See, that’s the thing,” said Lacey, tapping her pencil against her notebook. “I heard you’ve done a number of fundraisers over the years since you got here. Bake sales, auctions, even some thing where you offered to go to dinner with the highest bidder, although it turned out you didn’t raise the sum you were hoping—”

“That was a misunderstanding,” said Zelena stiffly.

“—and out of all those events, there seems to be a common theme,” went on Lacey, “which is that the good causes you were raising money for don’t seem too clear on what share they were supposed to get of the proceeds. So what happened there?”

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“No,” said Lacey, twirling the pencil between her fingers. “Just asking questions. It’s what I do.”

“Well, stick to the questions I agreed with your editor,” snapped Zelena.

Lacey gave her a sweet smile, twirling the pencil between her fingers.

“I’m afraid Sidney didn’t tell me what those were,” she said. “So I’m having to wing it. Sorry about that.”

Over Zelena’s shoulder, she saw the diner door open and Mr Gold stepped through, taking a moment to remove the sunglasses he wore. He caught Lacey’s eye for a brief moment, and she felt her heart thump a little before looking away.

“I’m not about to sit here and listen to baseless accusations!” Zelena was glaring at her, pale blue eyes flashing. “Consider this interview over!”

She pushed to her feet, stepping back, and almost collided with Gold. He took a hasty step back from her, and Zelena’s face brightened as she showed white teeth in a wide, predatory grin. 

“Oh, Mr Gold,” she said, in honeyed tones. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Miss West,” he said neutrally. “Miss French. Please excuse me.”

He stepped to the side to go around her, and Zelena stepped with him, cutting off his path. Gold appeared to restrain himself from rolling his eyes with great difficulty.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she went on, in that sickly-sweet voice.

“My business hours are eight-thirty til six,” he said. “Please come to the shop if you need to make any representations regarding your rent.”

She gave a tinkling little laugh that made Lacey grimace.

“Oh, you’re so funny!” she said. “I always pay my debts.”

“I’m delighted to hear it.”

He bowed his head a little, a clear indication that, in his opinion, the conversation was over. He took a step to the left, and Zelena again moved with him. This time his eyes definitely rolled, his chin lifting a little and exposing his throat. Lacey found her eyes following the line of it, and hurriedly looked at the knot of his tie instead.

“It’s about the charity dance,” said Zelena. “It’s for a very good cause, the whole town is planning to be there, and yet I don’t seem to have had your response to my invitation.”

“Well, you just mentioned the words ‘dance’ and ‘the whole town’,” he said levelly. “Neither fills me with any great level of enthusiasm, I have to say. Excuse me.”

“But if you just let me explain—”

“Would you let the man get his coffee?” said Lacey impatiently. “We’re still wrapping up this interview, remember?”

Gold took the opportunity to slip past and head for the diner counter as Zelena rounded on her with a look of fury.

“You think I’m going to sit here and be accused of impropriety by a - a glorified intern?” she snapped. “I’ll be calling the paper today and insisting you be sacked!”

“Knock yourself out,” said Lacey, unconcerned. “I’ll just write up what I’ve got. This was going to be your opportunity to call bullshit on all the rumours that were flying around, but sure, I guess you could just read the piece when it’s out and let people make up their own minds.”

Zelena made a face like she was chewing a wasp. Out of the corner of her eye, Lacey noticed Gold glance over his shoulder with a tiny smirk on his face. Zelena bared her teeth.

“Five minutes,” she hissed. “And I’m still calling your editor.”

“Cool, whatever.” Lacey sat back down and gestured to the seat across from her. “So. Back to the dinner auction. Talk me through what happened.”

Zelena seemed to be struggling with something, but slowly lowered herself into the chair opposite, and Lacey gave her a wide smile. Perhaps she’d get to write something interesting after all.

[mylifeasaserver]

My Day As It Happened: Thanksgiving 2020

Day before Thanksgiving

It was dead as shit, as one would expect the day before Thanksgiving, and in an attempt to maybe get an extra few tables the new hire that wants me gone tried to have me sent home. There was really no conflict going on, but she tried having the closer sent home so she could maybe get an extra table or two. 

She didn’t want to close though, and was cut shortly after. Joke’s on her too, since I got $70 off my next two tables (a 2-top and a 4-top.) Dumbass.

Thanksgiving Day

4PM: Show up for my shift and there’s no parking because we’re that busy. Fortunately, there's an empty movie theater not far away. I’m still gonna be late, but at least it won’t be too bad.

4:15PM: Nobody noticed I was late. My section is already full of another server’s tables anyway.

4:20PM: Get my first table, which are my regulars. This bodes well. 

5PM: Things are running incredibly smoothly. I’m shocked. One of the new hire bitch’s tables flags me down to complain that they’ve been waiting for a server for quite a while but nobody has come by. I take their order.

5:30PM: I’m running both my section and the new hire bitch’s since nobody seems to know where the hell she is. The money is fantastic today since everybody is in a good mood. I’ll run as many tables as they want since I’m in a small table section and so is she.

6PM: The new hire bitch finally makes an appearance. She not only wants the tables I have currently transferred to her, but also the ones I took over earlier when she vanished. She’s told no.

6:06PM: The GM asks me what the hell is up between her and I since she’s flipping out in the kitchen. I tell him what’s been going on and that I’m not transferring shit to her. He agrees. 

7PM: New hire bitch gets a party of 6 of wretched shits that always complain for free food and never tip - after running their server ragged. I tell her to take extra good care of them because they usually tip $30. I am the worst kind of person.

7:30: My section is gloriously full of people out to have a good time. They’re all super easy. The new hire bitch is struggling. I could help her, or I could socialize with my tables and make myself more money. You all know what I chose. The rush ends.

8PM: The 6 wretched assholes have a manager at the table. She gave them worse service than they feel they deserve. Anything less than smacking them with a chair is better than they deserve. The manager comps the entire table’s food because we’re corporate and have a penis gobble of apology to perform. She gets no tip - but still thinks they normally leave $30. Good.

9PM: New hire bitch is raging that she made near nothing on a super busy shift, and now she’s cut. She has silver to roll and side work to do. She orders the 16-year-olds to help her with it and is summarily told to do her own damn work. I am pleased with them. They team up and help one another out, and I work on their stuff a bit too. 

9:15PM: The kids are done, their shit signed (without me checking it - they always do their work so I can’t be bothered.) New hire bitch tries getting the same treatment, is displeased when reality intervenes.

9:40PM: Get sat a 6 top even though we close in 20 minutes. To make things worse, it’s an old nemesis: French Canadians. I don’t know why they’re here, I’m assuming for a transgression in a past life. I fucking recognize these people. I’ve served them before, long ago. Once I realize who they are, I remember them from years ago when I left them sitting at the restaurant waiting for cabs I never called. I don’t think they remember me.

9:50PM: 6 water with lemons later, they don’t know what they want to order. Knowing these people don’t tip for shit, I tell them the kitchen closes in ten minutes so they need to make up their minds. GM agrees with me. He’s been there since hours before opening, he’s ready to go. Still waiting for the new hire bitch to get her side work done.

9:55PM: 6 top still doesn’t know what they want to order. I’m asked if the kitchen will wait for them just a little longer. No. You have 3 minutes to decide.

9:58PM: New hire bitch tries to leave without the required signatures. She’s displeased when the manager sends her back to me. Her side work isn’t done. Not only is it not done, it’s untouched.

9:59PM: My Canadian table can’t come to a decision on what to order, despite us having a limited menu. They ask if we can cook up something off-menu. They are told we cannot. Told the kitchen is closing once more, they wave me off and tell me to come back in five minutes. Sure!

10:05PM: The kitchen - aside from new hire bitch’s side work - is completely done. GM gives his blessing for what comes next. Heading back out to the 6 top, my apron covers my raging erection. Canadians are ready to order. Told that the kitchen has closed, they demand a manager. I send the GM out.

10:07PM: The GM has visited the table and told them the kitchen is closed, and were told it was closing. Now they can just leave.

10:35PM: After 20 minutes of bitching about how bad she needs to leave, 10 minutes of telling me I need to help her, and 5 minutes just doing the fucking side work, new hire bitch is done with her side work. Too bad her section looks like shit.

10:45PM: New hire bitch spends 3 minutes actually doing the things I asked after throwing a fit about sweeping her section and wiping a couple tables again. Fortunately my tips greatly outnumber the fucks I give. GM pulls her into the office, and asks me to wait (against company policy for one person to be there alone and the cooks were gone.) Fine. I clock out as a server and back in under the minimum wage job code.

11PM: New hire bitch leaves after catching a write up for her vanishing act. GM pulls her tickets after she claims to only have been in the bathroom a few minutes. The huge gap in inputs said otherwise (not to mention all the checks I had to get a manager to print for the tables she abandoned.)

11:17PM: GM is finally done with his manager shit and we leave. He’s got a few days off, I just wish I did.

For a person who wants to “take me down” this bitch sure does a lot of self-owns. -J