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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter nine

summary: you catch up with an old friend and luca makes you dinner.

warnings: fluff, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 3.3k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist (songs mentioned in chapter are in this playlist!)

a/n: i've always pictured mathilde & jesper as the chalamet siblings AND astrid is in fact played by rina sawayama i don't make the rules (i do). thank you for all comments, reblogs, and screaming at me because we are all obsessed. seriously, it's an honor and i'm just so excited that you all are just as excited as me. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

You spend your first Sunday afternoon without Luca, for the first time in a few weeks, deep cleaning your home. Between your new relationship and your work at the restaurant, you’d found yourself falling behind on chores. But he’d worked the late shift last night, filling in for a cook who called out, which is how you’d ended up with a night and morning of divine alone time.

With your headphones on, it’s easy to multitask, simultaneously folding clothes while you catch up with your friend, formerly-sister-in-law, over the phone.

“Anyways, work’s kept me so damn busy that I’ve barely had a moment in my own home but… we are all doing quite alright over here,” she explains, after detailing her travels all across Europe.

Being a buyer for Nordstrom UK keeps her on the road, or rather, in the sky, at a frequent rate.

“Well I’m glad you called. It’s good to hear from you. And It’s really good to catch up, Astrid,” you say, smiling to yourself as you finish folding a pile of t-shirts.

“Well, just because you and Joe didn’t work out doesn’t change anything. You’re still my sister,” she replies, with a small laugh. “We’re family, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t keep a good thing around.”

“Astrid! You know it wasn’t like that,” you protest, though you know it’s all in jest.

“I know,” she sighs, and you can practically hear her rolling her eyes from all the way to England. “Selfishly, I’m just feeling a bit contrary about it, is all. But enough about me. How are you? How’s everything at the restaurant?”

“It’s been great. I… can’t believe that I have a restaurant,” you answer as you shake your head in disbelief.

“God, I’ve gotta get out there soon. I haven’t stopped thinking about that lumache from my last visit – what was it – last November? Yeah, it’s been too long,” Astrid recalls lightheartedly.

“Yeah, it really has. Just let me know. You know I’m always up for hosting you,” you agree, hopeful that she’ll come visit soon.

“Besides work, what else’s new? And don’t tell me you’re still just burying yourself in the restaurant because I don’t want to hear it,” she asks, a curious tone in her voice as she segways from work to

“Well um…” you trail off, treading lightly over the delicate subject.

The thing you want to tell her about is Luca, because he is what’s new in your life. His presence in your life is evident – it’s in the pair of sweatpants he tossed in with your laundry that you’re folding now, the spare toothbrush you ‘lent’ him that sits right next to yours, and the way that thinking of him makes your heart race.

You don’t want to lie to her… but you’re also not sure what the etiquette is either.

It’s not like this is included in the divorcee handbook you never got in the first place.

“I’m… sort of seeing someone,” you admit, hesitantly.

“What?!” she gasps, instantly giddy with excitement. “Yeah, we uh…” you hesitate, testing the waters since she seems excited about it. “We’ve been dating for about a month now, maybe.”

“Shut up! That’s mega! How’d you meet? Tell me everything,” she gushes.

“Well, he actually came into the restaurant. Kind of became a regular and uh…” you explain, and she can hear the smile in your voice as you do. “He’s great. You’ll love this story, actually. He’s also a chef – a pastry chef. One night after coming in, he left a box of croissants for my staff and a handwritten note inviting me to come to the restaurant he works at. It was very….”

“Romantic. Wow…” Astrid adds, too excited for you as she listens. “And a bold move. Knows what he wants. I like him already.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s really incredible. I swear. He has the patience of a saint, especially as I’ve uh… you know, I’ve been trying to figure this whole… dating after you end your marriage kinda thing,” you continue, chuckling in response to the awkwardness of it all.

“We were friends actually, for a while. Just friends, which, I know you’ll yell at me about when you see what he looks like. But I think it was good for us, for me, really – to be friends first.”

“Well, now you have to send me a picture,” she requests, even more intrigued as you fiddle with your phone, pulling up a photo you took of Luca the other day.

You wait a beat. Then another, seeing that the photo has been delivered as Astrid shrieks in your ear.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me, mate?!” she practically screams.

“I know,” you squeal.

“You are absolutely unbelievable,” she shakes her head, staring at the gorgeous blonde on her screen. “How did you not jump right into bed?!”

“Trust me,” you reply, the room suddenly feeling 5 degrees hotter. “After we agreed to start seeing each other, we didn’t wait very long.”

”Sounds like you have a boyfriend,” Astrid comments smugly, as she waits for your reaction. You have expect yourself to panic, but you don’t as you the words tumble out of your mouth.

“I… it does sound that way, doesn’t it?” you ask her, your voice soft as you reply.

“Absolutely, my darling,” Astrid replies, before changing the subject. “Okay, so how’s the sex?!”

“Astrid!” you protest with a laugh. “Do you really want to-?”

“Of fucking bloody course I do! Now spill!” she demands.

You pause, grinning as your cheeks blush.

“It’s fucking incredible,” you admit, eliciting a giggle from your friend.

“Shit, babe,” she sighs, contently. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” you say back, because you’re pretty damn happy too. “Astrid, will you keep this between us? It’s just that it’s all still so new and….”

You pause.

“I just don’t want Joe to hear it from anyone but me.”

“Of course,” she replies, compassionately, in deep understanding.

“What else are sisters for?”

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

You showed up to Luca’s flat uncertain of what to expect, but then he’d pulled you into his home and kissed you like you’d been on his mind all day – and in his defense, you really had.

“Why don’t you come over Sunday night, then? Let me cook you dinner for a change,” he had suggested as you were figuring out your schedules for the week.

“You sure you’ll be up for that after working overtime this week?” you’d asked in response.

“I’ll be alright, love,” he’d answered, like he had unlimited energy when it came to you.

And even though you’d asked him if you should bring dessert – only to be met with a cheeky comment about you being dessert – you showed up anyway with a matcha basque cheesecake in hand and a deli container filled with a yuzu scented whipped cream to top it with.

So this is how you find yourself perched on top of Luca’s kitchen island countertop, after having watched his exceptional knife skills for the last thirty. You spend your evening snacking on sliced sourdough bread you’re not sure how he had the time to make, and sip on your glass of red wine while watching him prepare a coq au vin. You swear you’ve got hearts in your eyes when you look at him, watching his muscular, inked forearms flex with how he grips his chef’s knife. As music plays softly in the background, a playlist you can only imagine is the entirety of Luca’s music library put on shuffle, you busy yourself, refilling your wine glass for your second glass of the night.

“Want another, babe?” you ask him, noticing that he’s on his way to empty as well.

“Sure. Thank you, my love,” he replies, scooping a handful of chopped carrots up from his cutting board with a bench scraper, depositing them into a small bowl. You watch as Luca picks up his glass of wine and makes his way over to you.

He hands you the glass, then places a gentle kiss against your lips, a smile spreading across his lips. Luca takes a few steps away so that you can fill his glass again, making a few swift movements to turn the heat down on the gas burner.

“How was your day?” he asks, while still moving around his kitchen.

You fill him in on your productive day of chores and catching up with an old friend while Luca listens, busy with removing the pieces of chicken out from the heavy, enameled, cast-iron pot and onto a plate. By the time Luca’s added hot oil to the pot, followed by the chopped carrots and peeled, halved cipollini onions, you’ve caught him up on the long version of Jesper’s latest love-life updates, since he and Claudio have now decided to make it official.

“So you used to make this with your mom?” you ask curiously, changing the subject as you watch Luca scrape the browned bits off the bottom of the pot.

He nods in response, stealing a glance your way, his lips turned up into a half smile.

“Yeah. Most coq au vins can take up to three to four hours, but my mum didn’t have the time,” Luca explains, as you watch him remove the pieces of chicken from out of the heavy, enameled, cast-iron pot and onto a plate. “But it was important for her… to cook for me… to share that ritual with me when she could.”

The sound of the wine and cognac mixture hitting the hot pan sizzles throughout Luca’s home, your nose filling with the smell of deglazed caramelized bits.

“And I spent a lot of time as a kid watching the cooking channel, so while we didn’t exactly spend all Sunday cooking a classic French coq au vin, Jamie Oliver’s did the job quite well,” Luca recalls, sharing a piece of his relationship with food with you.

“Well, it smells incredible,” you say, as he approaches you once more, this time with a full glass of wine in your hands, ready for him.

As Luca leans in again, the way he kisses you is much more languid, slow, like time is limitless. You breathe him in, completely enamored with the man that’s kissing you, and before anything too wild can happen, he pulls away, leaving you wanting more. Luca smirks, and you swear he knows the effect he has on you. He presses a quick peck to your lips this time, before taking the glass of wine from your hands and heading back to his post in front of the stovetop.

“This all goes back in,” he continues, using tongs to add the chicken and pancetta bits back into the simmering pot. “Then we braise it in the oven for about… thirty, forty minutes maybe.”

You raise your glass of wine to your lips, taking a quick sip of the beaujolais you’re using both for the coq au vin and to unwind, listening as the song changes in the background, instantly recognizing the drum pattern. The corners of your lips turn up into a smile as you close your eyes, enjoying the familiarity of the song as you say:

“God, I love this song.”

Luca smiles, “It’s a classic. Great song.”

Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick

The one that makes me scream, she said

The one that makes me laugh, she said

Threw her arms around my neck

“You know, I saw them when I was in my early 20s. It was just me and a bunch of somebody’s dads,” you grin, in reference to The Cure.

Luca chuckles at your comment, before asking, “Did you really?”

“Yes. And when they came out on stage, smoke machine and all, I wept because it was the fulfillment of a childhood dream – to see them. I… was a bit of an angsty teen,” you answer, raising your wine glass to your lips once more.

“Think we all had an angsty phase, more or less. Mine was less pining to The Cure and more stirrin’ up trouble,” Luca admits, lightheartedly.

“Again, and I’m holding you to it. You promised me pictures,” you remind him with aplomb.

“I did, yeah,” he chuckles, shyly, with a sigh of resignation.

You focus on enjoying one of your favorite songs and sipping on your glass of wine, as you watch Luca put the enameled cast-iron plot, full of the ready-to-braise coq au vin, into the oven.

Comfortable silences between you and Luca have become more frequent. There are days that all you want to do is stay up till the early hours of the morning talking and kissing and fucking, and there are others that you love leaning into the quiet intimacy that seems to be developing between you. It’s almost as if you’ve forgotten what this feels like – the excitement of something new where you’re learning so much about each other and everything feels like the first time.

It’s thrilling and it’s also safe.

Luca makes you feel safe, and you can’t imagine doing this with anyone else but him.

For a first time relationship, post-divorce, you really hit the jackpot, you think to yourself.

Luca continues moving around the kitchen, drinking his wine in between clean up tasks, as if he’s at work, hell bent on keeping his station clean. He’s much better than you are at that, you observe, as he does a few dishes that he’s used up, instead of leaving them in the sink for tomorrow.

As he dries his hands on a dish towel, the song changes, and the opening notes of Beyonce’s Love On Top begin playing. You smile as you hear the undeniable:

Bring the beat in!

“Alright, mate. Hear me out,” Luca proposes, spinning around with excitement. “And I don’t say this lightly. But this. This is one of the greatest songs of all time.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you giggle as you watch Luca dance to the song in his kitchen with a smoothness that’s somehow simultaneously a little silly.

“What? You don’t agree?” he asks, shooting you a look as he ball changes towards you, earning another laugh from you.

“No, I do. I love this song,” you grin from ear to ear. “I’m just so tickled by the fact that you love this song.”

“It’s Beyonce,” he defends, in his best ‘well-duh’ kind of tone, gesturing wildly. “C’mon. Let’s dance.”

“Wh-,” you begin to say, before Luca’s practically pulling you off of the counter to join him. “Luca!!”

But he’s not having any of your protests as he wraps his arms around you. You hang onto him, holding him close as he leads you in a silly uptempo kind of dance, spinning and turning you with him in a way that has you in a fit of giggles. The two of you stumble from his kitchen into the living space area as you move together, embracing how goofy and ridiculous you both feel.

Luca sings along softly, something you get a better listen to as soon as he’s pulling you close to him.

“What the fuck!” you practically shriek, your jaw practically on the floor.

“Hmm?” he hums in response, unphased by your outburst.

“You’re unfuckingreal,” you balk, as you listen to him hum along to the Beyonce song. “I mean. You-, like, you look like this, you’re great in bed, and you have a nice singing voice? How-, how’s a girl ever supposed to stand a chance?”

He chuckles, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, sending chills down your spine as he coos, teasingly, “I’m great in the sack, hmm?”

Your heart skips a beat as you pull back, just enough to look into the eyes of your lover as you say, “Oh fuck off.”

He laughs again, this time, leaving a soft kiss against your ear, hugging you closer to him as you slow your dance down as the song begins to end. There’s a pause between this and the next song, providing the perfect opportunity for Luca to answer your earlier question.

“You weren’t,” Luca replies, his voice quiet but sure. Supposed to stand a chance, he means. “I think we were supposed to meet. Supposed to be here.”

Supposed to fall in love.

He leans down to kiss you as the next song begins, transitioning into a much bluesier sound. The crooning sounds of Etta James blast from Luca’s living room speakers, as you smile into the kiss. You groan, your heart aching in the best way as kiss him to:

I want a Sunday kind of love

A love to last past Saturday night

And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight

And I want a Sunday kind of love, oh yeah, yeah

“My God. I think tonight’s shuffle is proof that you may just have the most versatile taste in music history,” you mumble, pulling away for a moment from the kiss.

As you open your eyes, Luca’s just admiring you, an awestruck look on his face that steals your breath. No longer able to deflect with humor or anything else really, you lay your head on his chest, settling into the soft swaying motion of the dance that you and Luca have fallen into. Your arms go around his neck once more as Luca holds you close to him, making a mental note to remember this forever.

“How did you know?” you ask Luca, softly.

“What’s that, love?” he asks back.

“You said that you thought we might be good at this. At… at an ‘us.’ When we talked about starting to see each other,” you begin, choosing your words carefully, underscored by the violins of the song.

Luca takes a deep breath admitting that, “I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, looking up at him, your eyes full of adoration for the man that’s captured your heart.

“Babe, I-,” he starts, letting out a small laugh. “I knew we got on well. And that I liked you. And I thought… if we got on this well as friends and you felt the same, that we could give it a go. See what happens.” He takes a beat, choosing his words, before continuing with:

“But, my love, I can’t predict the future. It could work out in the long run, it could not. But I wanted-, I want to see how far we can take it.”

You take a deep breath, because this conversation is deep-breath worthy.

Notorious for wanting to read the last page of a book first, you know he’s right, that you can’t predict the future, and you, now just as much as he does, would like to see how far this could go.

“Yeah it-, that makes complete sense,” you stammer, feeling incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden. You rest your head against his chest again, settling back into your slow sway to the beat.

Like clockwork, the song ends, something a little more upbeat trickling in through the speakers. You and Luca remain in each others’ arms, content to stay here forever. You’re amazed at his confidence, at his fearlessness to take a chance on love, and you think to yourself, he might be teaching you some of that too.

“Let’s take a trip together,” Luca suggests, the low resonance of his voice cutting through the quiet. “Maybe end of the month or something. An end of summer trip.” He chuckles, a hand coming up to stroke your hair as you enjoy the way his voice vibrates in his chest.

“Fuck it. I could care less if we make it in time for the end of summer. Let’s just get out of the city together.”

“That sounds spectacular,” you answer.

And it’s there, in Luca’s arms after a dance party for two, that you think to yourself, you couldn’t be happier.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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aothotties · 7 months

Text

Mommy Chaser

ART WORK IS NOT MINE!!

Part 1 is finally here! It's not much more than the preview but I've already started on part 2!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 623

Eren

You and Eren met at a Jean’s birthday party and he swears that’s when he fell in love. He repeatedly asked Jean to introduce you to him, to which he said no each time.

“Why not?!? You’re married so what does it matter anyway?” He complains and crosses his arms angrily.

Jean scoffs and Mikasa comes up next to him with a smile on her face.

“She’s a single mom, Eren. She’s already been through enough heartbreak and she’s not looking for something temporary.” She explains and his face softens.

He looks past Jean and watches as you talk to Sasha, and smiles at the cute face you make when you laugh.

“So what? Maybe I’m ready for something long term. Come on Jean do this one thing for me” Jean looks over at Eren with a raised eyebrow.

“Eren Yeager, are you begging?” He smirks as he teases the blushing man next to him.

“Jean, you're so mean sometimes. Eren, if we introduce you to her you’ve got to promise to be gentle with her. And don’t waste her time if you’re not feeling it anymore.” She tells him while poking his chest.

Eren nervously swallows his drink and just nods in response.

“I love her so much” Jean mumbles under his breath as he watches the two of them make their way to you.

“Y/N, this is ‘the’ Eren we’ve told you about.” Mikasa steps to the side as you shake hands with the tall brunette.

“It’s nice to meet you, Eren. I've heard a lot about you.” You smile up at him and he feels his heart speed up immediately after.

“I’m hoping it was all good things, but knowing Jean probably not.” He says and you laugh in return.

“It’s all good things, I promise. He actually speaks very highly of you at times.” You tell him and he can’t help but laugh.

“I’m sorry, Jean and I can be ‘playful’ at times.” He says before sipping from his cup.

The rest of the night is spent with you two getting to know each other, at some point the music gets too loud so you two decide to finish talking in his car.

“So not to be in your business, but I heard you’ve got a kid?” He looks at you nervously trying to make sure he didn’t overstep a boundary.

“I do, he’s turning 4 in a few months actually. He’s my best friend.” You gush as you show him photos of the both of you.

“He’s handsome, you clearly do a great job at raising him” He compliments you and you and you smile fondly in return.

There’s a silence that washes over the two of you, but the thoughts inside Eren’s head are screaming.

“Hey uh, I hope this isn’t too straightforward, but do you think that maybe we could go out some time?” He looks at you and you grab his hand in return.

“Eren, you’re really lovely and I can tell you’re a great guy, but-” His heart steadily drops, but he’s not giving up this easily.

“Wait! Please, Jean and Mikasa told me you’re not interested in flings. I want us to be more than just that. I’m not getting any younger, and you seem like such an amazing woman. Will you please give me just one date with you.” He blurts out and you just stare in shock at his outburst.

“You know what, you’ve got yourself a deal. If it goes well you can take me on another dte and we’ll see what happens.” You hold up a hand for him to shake and he kisses the back of it instead.

“Then let the games begin darling.”

Ari

@sinsensual1 @lily-sinclair-2006

#aot x black reader #aot x reader #aot scenarios #aot x female reader #aot x y/n #aot imagines #eren x black fem!reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren x reader

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wintaerbaer · 9 months

Text

things we don’t say: part 5 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, eventual smut

word count: 12.1k

chapter warnings: jeon jungkook, seventeen is here because i needed fill-ins (also they’re not singers but their music still canonically exists in-universe so good luck figuring that one out), a wedding!, tae is WHIPPED, the infamous butt debate, jealousy (plural), jimin has terrible timing, alcohol consumption ft. a drinking game, a mega cliffhanger i’m so sorry

a/n: while not required, i highly recommend reading the prequel drabble if you haven’t yet as it has some heavy relevance to this part and the next! special thanks to @btsborahaee and @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this chapter and letting me gush and brainstorm in their inboxes on the regular <3 also, shout outs to @animeniacss and @taegularities for sprinting with me all the time (and a forehead kiss to rid for coming up with the idea for the bathroom scene, mwah)!

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"After today, I never want to see a ribbon ever again."

Jimin fumbles his fingers over the thin string, throwing his hands up in a huff when the slippery material resists his efforts to tie it. With Hoseok and Sunny's wedding only two weeks away, you'd offered to help out with some of the prep work, and Taehyung suggested hosting a mini prep party at your apartment as part of his efforts to make new memories since you'd moved back. True to his word, he’s been at your place nearly every day the past few weeks, cooking dinner with you and rewatching your favorite shows from high school.

You have to admit it’s been pleasantly domestic.

"It's not that bad," you say, finishing off your own ribbon around one of the tiny boxes of chocolate which will be distributed to each of the two-hundred-plus guests as a wedding favor.

"No, I'm serious. I don't even want to tie my shoes anymore. I'm a Crocs guy now."

"I've heard girls love sport mode," Taehyung quietly teases. "Is that right, Y/N?"

The flirtatiousness of his tone startles you, and your eyes snap up to meet his where he sits across from you at the dining room table. He's smiling one of those mischievous grins that makes your stomach churn, belly lurching when he stuns you with a wink before turning back to his own tiny box.

What the fu—

"If any of you show up to my wedding in Crocs, I'm kicking you out," Sunny grumbles.

Hoseok smacks his lips as he ties off a ribbon. "Does that also go for—"

"You as well, yes."

Your group settles into a momentary silence at her declaration—not a sound besides the ripple of ribbon and paper. At least until—

“I got laid wearing Crocs once.”

The entire table groans in unison, and you toss a bit of balled up wrapping paper at Jungkook's chest that bounces pathetically to the floor as Jimin boos. “No one cares about your sexcapades, Kook.”

“What, it was impressive!” he argues. “Just be thankful I'm not bringing any of them to the wedding.”

“I almost wish you were,” Hoseok grumbles. “You'd better not be picking up anyone inappropriate that night. Sisters, cousins, aunts—”

“That was one time!”

“—and anyone else even remotely close to family are off limits.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, pouting to himself, before he says, “Moms?”

The table boos again, more bits of wrapping paper flying his way.

“I'm kidding! Kidding!”

“Actually, Y/N,” Sunny murmurs, leaning towards you. “I hate to bring it up, but are you planning on bringing anyone else in Jace’s place?” Her expression is one of compassionate regret, with pursed lips and a furrowed brow, but the question still hits you low in your chest, knocking the wind out of you.

“I feel terrible asking,” she continues, “but one of my friends from high school originally declined a plus-one, and now she’s asking if there’s any way we can squeeze in this guy she met two weeks ago, and normally I’d tell her no, there’s no way I can change the head count two weeks out and who is this guy anyway, but then I figured that we do technically have an extra spot so we could fit him in, but I’d definitely give you the option to bring someone else first if you wa—“

“It’s fine,” you say, trying to ignore the way everyone else around the table is now looking on in sympathy. “I have no one else to bring. Let her guy come.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” It feels like you’re dying inside, but you try to look unbothered, especially since you can feel Taehyung’s eyes on you. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Sunny quietly agrees, just as Hoseok suddenly jumps in at her side.

“You know, Tae isn’t bringing anyone to the wedding either,” he says, looking between the two of you. “Why don’t you just go together?”

“I’m also going alo—“ There’s a thump under the table and Jungkook immediately shuts his mouth.

You glance at Taehyung, who’s looking back at you with a dip in his eyebrows and parted lips. It was probably a given that you would spend time at the wedding hanging out already, but wouldn’t going together mean something else entirely? A promise of dancing and proximity and a label the two of you have never shared?

Perhaps that’s the reason why he’s staring at you with a touch of discomfort. Your own skin prickles at the thought, and so you scratch away the itch at your chin and deflect.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to.” Then you stand from the table sharply, hitting your limits with this conversation. “I’ll be right back.”

You head for the bathroom, not even needing to do anything in there, but sure that you can busy yourself for a few minutes to get your emotions under control away from your friends. But as you’re about to swing the door shut behind you, a large hand reaches out to stop it with a thud, and Taehyung quickly slips in before closing the door himself.

“Tae, what are you—“

“Come with me.”

You’re practically chest-to-chest, and if not for the fact that you’ve stopped breathing with his question, you’d probably be pressed up against him in the tight space.

“What?”

He licks his lips, pulls in air through his nose like he’s bracing himself.

“Come to the wedding with me.”

The room is heavy with silence as his request fully sinks in, the air between you thick and hot as you try to get some of it into your lungs. It’s hard, though, to develop a coherent thought with him standing so close—his scent engulfing you and dark, searching eyes fixated on your expression.

“I don’t kno—“ you begin, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Why not? Like Hobi said, neither of us is bringing anyone already.” His fingers brush yours—an apology for mentioning it again. “So why not go together and…not be as alone.”

You shift on your feet. “But you do know that you don’t have to do this. I’m fine without a plus one. There’s no shame in it for me.”

“Y/N,” he huffs. “You know that I like being around you, right?” He nudges gently against the underside of your chin, making you look at him directly. “I wouldn’t have stuck around this long if I didn’t.”

You’re still skeptical—nervous about the implications of what this would look like, especially when you just got out of a relationship. To you, it feels very much like teasing a boundary. But Taehyung is all nerves in front of you, gaze darting up-and-down your face and a tiny pull at the corner of his mouth telling you that he’s chewing on his lip.

And of course, because it’s him, you cave.

“Okay.”

He beams and, not for the first time, you feel your chest lighten at the sight of his boxy smile. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, smiling back.

“Okay.” Almost impossibly, his grin gets even wider, and you can see the wheels begin to turn in his head. “Do you have a dress picked out yet? What color is it? I can match you.”

It takes you aback. You wouldn’t have even thought about that. “Emerald green.”

“Emerald green,” he repeats, something registering behind his eyes, and he licks his lips again. “Okay. Great.”

He shifts like he's getting ready to leave, but you catch his fingers to reel him back. And you hate to put it out there, hate to even bring it up, but after everything you’ve been through, you need the clarity.

“And Tae,” you say, “this isn’t a date, right?”

He gives a slow blink, a wave of unknown emotion rippling from forehead to chin before he smiles gently at you, eyes softening at the corners. “Of course not.”

You nod. “Okay.” And a small part of you feels…disappointed?

But there's no time to dwell on it as he exits the bathroom, and you follow him out in spite of doing exactly zero bathroom things. You return to the dining room together, your friends clearly trying to look nonchalant as they diligently work on their party favors but being way too quiet to not have been trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“Sunny,” Taehyung says as you take your seats, looking positively brighter. “Just make sure we're sitting next to each other, yeah?”

She snorts. “As if you were anywhere else to begin with.”

Blue skies stretch endlessly in front of you, wind running through your hair and sunlight filtering in through the sunroof as you and Taehyung make the trip to the lakeside resort where Hoseok and Sunny are to be married. He's the absolute picture of relaxation in the driver's seat, wearing sunglasses and a mindless smile with his fingers wrapped delicately around the steering wheel like vines.

He'd opened the door for you when he picked you up, a seemingly spontaneous gesture that had left you both shy and blushing. But if the afternoon started with a touch of unusual awkwardness between you, the prospect of your “not a date” wedding date making itself known, it has since evaporated in the hot summer air. At this point, you’ve spent the past hour chatting, playing road trip games (Taehyung somehow destroying you in the alphabet game in spite of having to focus on driving), and burning through three boxes of Pepero.

“These are an addiction, I swear,” you say, crunching down on a chocolate-filled stick and clapping your hands in delight. Taehyung’s eyes leave the road for a second as he takes you in and grins.

“Was that the last of it?”

“Oh.” You peer into the box. Empty. “Yeah. Sorry. Did you want it?”

“No, it’s fine. You can have it.”

“I sure hope so since I already swallowed it.”

He laughs, whole face lighting up with it, and you feel something turn over behind your ribcage as if someone’s flipped your heart like a pancake. It makes you think that even though you were supposed to be making this trip with a different person, you’re glad it’s him instead.

My love only amounts to this.

The lyrics ring out through the car, and Taehyung leans forward suddenly, turning up the volume on the stereo.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite song!” he joyfully says. “I know you like to sing along.”

You stare at him blankly, taken aback because you don’t think you’ve ever mentioned this to him. When did he notice…?

“C’mon, sing with me. Play a song I know and one step. Hold my hands and put my feet in, two steps.”

His sweet baritone sounds out beside you, and you feel a grin break out across your face. You always forget what a joy it is to hear Taehyung sing.

“The person to know all my secrets is you,” you sing, joining along. “So I’m even more thankful.”

“Sometimes when you get tired, and I see you crying with your head down, I don't know what to do. What can I do?”

You’re both belting it out at the top of your lungs by the time it gets to the chorus, and you think the sun has somehow moved inside the car with how bright and warm you feel.

My love only amounts to this. But thank you for staying by my side, my baby.

Your car charges down the road, trailing laughter and joy in its wake, and your chest feels light for the first time in weeks.

Even if my love only amounts to this. I'll be your umbrella in the rain. I'll protect you on all your days.

Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook meet you in the hotel lobby—a marble behemoth with wrought iron staircases and sofas that definitely cost more than your rent—and you all line up to check in, gawking at the elaborate chandelier that hangs above your heads.

“How did they even afford this place?” Jimin wonders.

Maya sucks her teeth. “At this rate? I think they might have mob ties.”

“Feet pics,” Jungkook says simply.

Once everyone has obtained their key cards, you set off to find your rooms. You’re all on the same floor since a certain section was booked specifically for the wedding, but with you having a room with only a single queen-sized bed, you’re down the hall and away from the others who booked doubles.

While Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook break off to get acclimated in their own respective rooms, Taehyung follows you into yours with a touch of melancholy, your luggage slung over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re fine here alone?” he asks, setting your bag on the ground. “I can room with you if you’d like. I’m sure Kook wouldn’t mind.”

“There’s only one bed,” you point out, blushing.

Taehyung also goes slightly pink. “Well yeah, but the other week we just…or I can take the couch. Or we can ask Kook to swap rooms?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I’m alone at the apartment all the time anyway.”

He nods, looking oddly shot down. “Alright. But if you change your mind, just ask.”

“Unlikely,” you tease with a wrinkle of your nose. “You snore.”

He gasps, feigning hurt. “I do not.”

He doesn’t. But you still tilt your head solemnly, pressing your lips together as if preparing to deliver bad news. “You do.”

“Shit,” he sighs before the two of you break down in giggles.

A few hours later, the five of you wind up at the resort’s restaurant for dinner, lamenting the exorbitant prices but enjoying an incredible meal. The night dwindles down as you settle in at the bar, figuring you can have a couple drinks before resting up for tomorrow’s big day. With a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a perfect view of the lake outside and the glow of the sunset spreading out above the trees. It tints the room orange, seeping onto every surface, including Taehyung’s forearms resting atop the bar.

You trace his veins with your eyes, study the way they trail to his hands curled lightly around his low ball glass. Your friends are talking about plans for tomorrow, but you’re not paying much attention; you’re far more interested in trying to figure out when your best friend’s arms started looking like that.

“And don’t worry, Chim. If I have the chance to get lucky, I’ll make sure not to use our room,” Maya says, placing a hand over her heart in pledge. “No locking you out because I’m a good friend.”

But Jungkook has tensed up next to you, and in spite of the cute pout of his lips, the creasing of his forehead suggests that he’s genuinely upset. “Hook-up? You’re going to find a hook-up?”

Maya looks at him incredulously, drink paused halfway to her lips. “Possibly. Aren’t you?”

“I…” His teeth bite into his lip. “It’s a wedding.”

She barks out a devilish laugh. “So? When has that ever stopped you?” A spiteful glare is sent his way that even has you shrinking behind him in secondhand shame. “Since when do you have morals?”

Taehyung’s knee squeezes against yours under the bar—a warning, probably, but your brain momentarily becomes fixated on the weight of it, on how nice it feels to have his warmth pressed against you. It’s not until he taps a finger against your thigh, signaling with his eyes at the sullen man behind you, that you pass on the touch, giving Jungkook’s elbow a gentle nudge in support and encouragement. He takes a quick look at you with sad, vulnerable eyes, and you’re reminded of how flustered he’d been during your conversation a few weeks ago.

“I was actually thinking,” he begins, more serious than you’ve ever seen him, “that maybe we could go together since neither of us have dates.”

Maya snorts, setting her drink down firmly on the countertop. “Why, so you can ditch me halfway through for the first woman that flutters her eyelashes at you? No thanks.”

Jungkook physically recoils like he’s been slapped, the force sending him back so far that he practically winds up in your lap. “You really think I would do that?”

His voice is tiny, hurt dripping from every syllable, and it makes Maya finally look up, face dropping as she seems to realize the wounds she’s inflicted upon him.

Her brows draw together, and she opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by the bartender popping up to ask if anyone needs a refill. By the time he leaves, the moment’s passed, and Jungkook briskly stands up, throwing some money down on the bar.

“I’m done. See you guys tomorrow.” And he strides out towards the hotel lobby.

You hop to your feet, shaking your head at Maya. “That was uncalled for.”

She looks guilty but says nothing, rubbing a finger along the rim of her glass, and you follow Jungkook out, calling his name as he approaches the elevators.

“Jungkook!”

He spins to face you with a frown, thumbs hooked in his pants pockets like he’s trying to look casual, but his eyes betray his discomfort. “What?”

“She didn’t mean that,” you say, slightly breathless from your jog across the lobby. “I know she didn’t.”

“Sure she did. That’s who she is. Always speaks her mind.” He shrugs, shirt rippling over his shoulders. “It’s fine. I don’t care.”

“Don’t you though?” you ask. “You’re not a bad guy, Kook. You deserve simple respect at least.”

“Maybe I don’t.” The elevator dings, and he steps inside, turning back to you with a final sad smile. “Night, Y/N.”

A sense of dread taps into the back of your skull, fear that your original inkling on this relationship was perhaps correct. Though you’ve since warmed up to the idea of Maya and Jungkook as a potential couple, it was this exact tension that you were worried about—their fire and gasoline dynamic harboring implications that could blow up your entire friend group.

Taehyung strolls up next to you as the doors roll shut, sighing as he comes to a stop. “He okay?”

“No, but don’t try telling him that.”

He purses his lips. “I had a quick talk with Maya. Reminded her that just because she’s had bad experiences with guys in the past doesn’t give her the right to take it out on him.”

“Good,” you say. “She probably needed to hear it.”

A nod as he assesses your figure and asks, “Are you coming back to the bar? I already covered your tab.”

“Oh, I’ll pay you back—“

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “You can make it up to me a different time.”

You smirk at him, stepping closer. “How about I roll it into your Christmas present?”

“Deal.”

You let out a soft laugh, and he offers to walk you up, pressing the button to call the elevator back. The two of you chat about nothing in particular as you make your way to the third floor, commenting on the ridiculously patterned carpet in the halls and laughing about the strangely risqué photos that you noticed hanging in the rooms.

When you arrive at your door, you swipe your key card over the sensor, turning the light from red to green and wishing Taehyung goodnight, but he loops his fingers around your wrist to lightly tug you back.

“Y/N.” He curls his bottom lip over his teeth, head dipping towards the ground in a shy smile as he searches for his words. “I’m…really looking forward to tomorrow. It’s going to be fun.”

He’s adorable; he truly is. Seventeen years of affection, and he still finds ways to endear you to him even more, bits of gold from the lamps catching on the browns of his eyes as he stands before you.

“It is,” you say, tongue tied around your own apprehension. He hums and looks like he wants to say more—tangles his fingers in front of him and chews on his lip as he fidgets. But after a moment passes—you still stuck on his eyes—he jerks his chin down in a nod, says goodnight, and leaves you standing at your door in confusion, taking one look back as he swipes his own key card down the hall and disappears into his room.

You enter your own space with your mind whirling, not sure what the hell just happened but also sure that you’re not upset about it. And once you’ve gone through your bedtime routine and settled in for the night, you fall asleep thinking about brown eyes and shy smiles, welcoming the most restful sleep you’ve had in weeks.

You awake to the sound of Maya knocking on your door promptly at 9am with her suitcase in hand, casually making her way to your bed when you let her in and picking up the hotel menu from the side table while you stare at her. "What are you doing?" "We are going to order room service and watch some shitty TV, and then I am going to help you get you ready for your date." "It's not a date," you say on impulse, though you're internally tamping down the involuntary flutter that's tickling your stomach. "If it's anything, it's a guy taking pity on his unexpectedly-single friend." "Pity date then." She says it with a nonchalant wave of her hand and doesn't give you the chance to speak when you open your mouth to protest. "Y/N, please, just give me the chance to make his jaw drop. If there really is nothing there like you say there is, then what's the harm?" The harm, you think to yourself, is the tingling feeling that's been increasing in intensity when you've been around Taehyung recently, warmth flooding your body at just the thought of him. Your brain has been desperately explaining it away, chalking it up to years of familiarity and comfort being stoked by the emotional trauma which (you're quick to remind yourself) you're still working through. No, Y/N, I don’t have feelings for you. It's these thoughts that, in the end, have you acquiescing as Maya lets out a joyful squeal. At the very least, you make your friend happy and get some well-deserved girl bonding time. Really, what's the harm?

The idea has barely finished running through your mind when you’re already beginning to regret it and wondering what the hell you just got yourself into. Maya wheels her entire suitcase to the foot of your bed and pulls out no less than seven bags of make-up, a curling iron, hairspray, four different brushes, and a straightener.

“Are you doing the entire wedding party after this?” you ask incredulously. “Why did you bring so much?”

“Needed to be ready for anything,” she says, organizing her tools into neat rows. “When I’m done with you, every straight man and half the women will be falling at your feet.”

Your face heats, and you subconsciously rub at your arm. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Okay, then just one man.” She raises her arms, fingers arranged into a square through which she peers at you like she’s sizing you up for a photograph. “Hmm, where should we start?”

You and Maya make your way to the resort's event hall a little while before the ceremony is scheduled to begin. Seating doesn't seem to have opened yet as guests mill about the entryway, the buzz of conversation filling the space above your heads, and the two of you pause at the top of the stairs to see if you can spot your friends. "I think Kook's got a purple tie," she says, peering around. "And you know what he's wearing why?" you ask, but she ignores you. "Oh, look, there they are." Maya's goal may have been to get Taehyung's jaw to drop, but you're left stunned when you look over to where he's standing with Jimin and Jungkook, the now-familiar tingle rippling through your veins once again. His black suit is perfectly tailored, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist, emerald green tie wrapped around his neck to match the color of your dress as promised. He's slicked his hair back and away from his eyes so you're able to see how they nervously dart between Jimin and Jungkook, clearly not listening to whatever it is they're enthusiastically saying. Actually, once you look more closely, everything about his body language screams nerves for some reason, his hands moving back and forth to play with the hems of his jacket before smoothing the lapels over and over again. Maya waves, grabbing Jimin's attention, and you watch as he grins at the two of you before leaning in to say something to Taehyung, pointing at where you're standing. Maybe, you think, just maybe you appreciate Maya's plan from this morning after Taehyung glances up at you. His incessantly-moving fingers finally still—halfway through re-adjusting his tie—and his perfect Cupid's-bow-lips pop open, eyes wide as he soaks you in in your floor-length gown. Maya’s worked your hair into loose curls cascading over your shoulders and bare back, and while you convinced her to not go wild with the make-up, she strong-armed you into agreeing to a deep red lipstick that’s only accentuated by the green of your dress. A smug cough comes from your right (clearly Maya's pleased with her work) as you descend the stairs and approach the trio of men. Jimin and Jungkook greet you brightly while Taehyung still looks mildly concussed, continuing to stare at you with his mouth half-open. "Alright there, Tae?" you ask, reaching up to adjust and smooth out his tie, messy from where his hands had frozen on it.

The pads of your fingers are hot where they brush against the hard muscle of his chest, and you try not to read too deeply into the pounding of his heart. Taehyung makes a weird noise akin to what you'd imagine a drowning fish would sound like, and Jungkook gives him a sharp slap on the back, which seems to knock him out of whatever trance he'd fallen into. "Incredible!" he blurts, and you almost want to laugh at the reset-button-like effect Jungkook's smack seems to have on him. He clears his throat, composing himself further. "I, um—you, I mean. You look incredible." You thank him, ignoring the second wave of smugness that comes from Maya's direction, just as the event staff open the doors and begin ushering guests into the hall. Taehyung offers you his arm, and you gladly take it as he guides you to sit alongside your friends.

The wedding hall is as grandiose as the rest of the hotel, with columns ornamenting the sides of the room and a massive flower arch constituting the altar. You all talk as you wait for the ceremony to begin, admiring the decor (the bright bouquets of red, purple, and blue flowers pop against the stark white of the venue) and trying to see if you recognize any of the guests.

“Oh, there’s Sunny’s cousin Chan,” Maya says, peering out over the room. “Remember we met him at that party one time?”

“Didn’t the two of you drunkenly make-out?” you ask.

Jimin frowns. “I thought they hooked up.”

“No, Y/N is right.” She fixes her hair, oblivious to the way Jungkook is now staring at the man in question, hackles raised. “Wouldn’t say no to that happening again; he was good with his hands. Tae, are you alright? You’re looking at Y/N like she’s sprouted four more arms.”

You swivel your head around to see Taehyung next to you, entirely flushed red above the shoulders. He licks his lips as he meets your eyes, blinking furiously like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Sorry, I spaced out.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Maya waves a dismissive hand, shuffling her attention to Jimin to ask if he knows about the music choices for the ceremony.

A throat clears on your right. “You do look nice. Really.” Taehyung looks utterly sheepish, his head tilted low as he softly pays you the compliment, and it reminds you of how shy he was last night as well. A butterfly takes flight in your chest, and now you’re the one blushing.

“Thank you. You cleaned up nicely, too,” you reply, and he blinks at you in a way that has you second guessing your words. “Not that you don’t always clean up nicely. And not that you don’t normally look very handsome. Because you do. Look very handsome, I mean. All the time.”

His bashfulness morphs into amusement, lips quirking up in an affectionate smile. “Oh, really?”

Your face heats up even more, mouth opening to respond with you don’t even know what, and you’re grateful when a hush falls over the room, the beginning notes of a wedding march signaling the ceremony’s start.

Hoseok appears first, looking dapper in a full tuxedo and grinning ear-to-ear. He walks down the aisle with long strides like he can’t possibly get to the end fast enough, bouncing on his toes as he settles into his spot.

The officiant is next, followed by Iseul and Seokmin, one of Hoseok’s childhood friends. Hana and Namjoon stroll in arm-in-arm after that, then Yumi and Jiho, and finally, everyone rises to their feet as Sunny appears at the entrance and begins her walk in, gaze finding only her groom.

Just as Sunny reaches the head of the aisle, a teary-eyed Hoseok taking her hands in his, another image, one which had once occupied your mind almost constantly but hadn't plagued you in weeks, takes hold: you and Jace in a similar setting, pledging forever to each other in front of your friends and family.

Maybe you had gotten ahead of yourself—the discovery of the ring box in his desk along with the natural longevity of your relationship sparking your imagination—but in the weeks leading up to your heartbreak, you had allowed your mind to plan—what kind of dress you'd wear, the colors you'd pick out, what you might say in your vows. It seems stupid now, dwelling on a future that's already evaporated into nothingness, but seeing the echoes of your dreams being played out in front of you, it’s like you can feel the sand physically slipping through your fingers.

Right as it starts to become too much, as you feel your chest tighten and heart ache, there's a brush of skin against the side of your hand, and glancing down, you see that Taehyung's reached over to quietly hook his pinky with yours. You turn to face him, but he keeps his eyes directed on the bride and groom, face neutral and unreadable, and you know he's giving you the chance to pull away, no questions asked.

But the gesture has warmth flooding through you, thawing the ice of your previous thoughts, and so you move to slip your hand under his, lacing your fingers and pressing your palms together tightly.

Taehyung looks at you then, a shy smile crinkling his eyes and twisting up the corners of his mouth, and you grin back, the previous ache in your chest replaced with a steady flutter as he begins to skim his thumb back and forth in a gentle caress.

You stay that way for the rest of the ceremony—watching your friends vow eternity to each other, Taehyung's hand tethered with yours.

Classical music drifts from the speakers at the back of the room as you find your seats for the reception. The ballroom is tremendous, with tall, arched ceilings, a gorgeous chandelier, and a wide dance floor that you’re sure will see a ton of action later. With the tables seating eight, you see that you’ve been placed in a grouping of you, Taehyung, Maya, Jimin, Jungkook, and three of Hoseok’s medical school friends, who introduce themselves as Wonwoo, Joshua, and Mingyu.

Thankfully, your group hits it off immediately. Wonwoo is rather reserved, more an observer of those around him than anything, but Taehyung and Jimin quickly strike up a conversation with Joshua about college after the latter mentions having gone to the same school as you, albeit never crossing paths. Maya and Mingyu, meanwhile, immediately fall into their own introductions, talking about how they know Hoseok and Mingyu’s studies to become a doctor.

“If you ever need a headshot or something, let me know,” Maya says, laying a hand on his arm. Across the table, Jungkook's head shoots up. “I do work as a photographer and would be happy to help.”

“Oh, really?” Mingyu makes no move to remove her hand; if anything, he shifts even closer. “What are your rates?”

“For you? Free of charge. Any friend of Hoseok is a friend of mine.” They're in their own little bubble now, Jungkook watching wide-eyed. “Besides, you'd be doing me a favor. With a face like that, you're a photographer's dream. Perfect model.”

Mingyu smirks. “A face like what?”

“Dangerously handsome.”

“HEY, WHAT DO YOU GUYS WANT TO SPECIALIZE IN?”

Jungkook practically screams it, and not only do Maya and Mingyu turn to look at him in bewilderment, but so does the rest of the table and a few guests in the neighboring seats.

Joshua clears his throat awkwardly, eying Jungkook like he might be rabid. “I’m trying for pediatrics.”

“Surgery,” Wonwoo says.

Maya turns towards her new companion. “What about you, Mingyu?”

He leans back in his chair. Gives a light tug on his tie. “I have a residency lined up in obstetrics and gynecology.”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me—”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says, cutting him off as he slides his chair back from the table. “Why don’t you help me get a round of drinks?”

“But—“

“C’mon.” He says it gently, like he’s trying to coax a toddler, and rises to his feet, giving you a gentle tap on the shoulder as he goes. “Cosmo?”

“Yes, please,” you say, and he nods, dropping a quick wink your way as Jungkook joins him, grumbling under his breath.

Joshua watches them walk away in the direction of the bar. “Is he always this…”

“Annoying?” Maya scoffs.

“Transparent.” Wonwoo quietly smirks.

A gentle laugh sounds on your left as Jimin hears. “I don’t know that anyone has ever described Jungkook as subtle in his life.”

Maya frowns, Mingyu looking downright perplexed at her side. “I don’t think I quite understand what’s going on,” he begins, but Maya soothes him with another press of her hand to his arm.

“Don’t worry about him. It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Tell me more about your residency.”

The reception passes in a swirl of music and drinks and food—and oh goodness, the food. Plates heaped with calamari, crab legs, and tiny filets wrapped in bacon are placed at the table by wait staff as your group digs in. Even Jungkook is placated, no longer scowling at Maya and Mingyu.

"Ughhh, I am never eating this well again," Jimin groans, stretching back in his chair and giving an exaggerated rub to his belly.

"You'd best get ready to," Taehyung says from your other side. "This isn't even dinner."

"This isn't even dinner?!"

Dinner turns out to be just as delicious and lavish as the appetizers, and it's no surprise that once dancing starts, your friends opt to stay seated for a while longer talking and digesting. As the party climbs to a full swing, Mingyu asks Maya to dance, Jimin and Jungkook start a debate on whether the butt is one body part or two, and Taehyung excuses himself to the restroom.

“It’s one part that’s split!” Jimin loudly exclaims. “The top is connected!”

“Jimin, go home, stand in front of the mirror, and pull your right ass cheek up. See if your left cheek comes up with it, and then get back to me, you absolute clown.”

“Do they do this a lot?” Joshua asks, the two idiots arguing between you.

“At least once a month.” You take a sip of your drink as you look on, bored. “I’m pretty sure this one is a rerun from last Halloween.”

“It’s one,” Wonwoo says, amused.

A flash of green catches your eye, and you look up to see Taehyung standing by the side of the bar, speaking with a woman. She's about your age, you think, and pretty, wearing a low-cut dress that certainly accentuates her chest.

She and Taehyung are talking excitedly, and you can tell he's putting the charm on—eyes bright, signature boxy smile lighting up his face. Nausea simmers in the pit of your stomach, and you force your attention back towards Jimin and Jungkook, trying to focus on whatever nonsense they're debating now.

This isn't a “date-date,” you remind yourself. And Taehyung hasn't had a relationship in a year—not since he was so torn up after Luna. He deserves to meet someone.

You’re spaced out next to your friends, still only halfway listening to them jabber on about butt cheeks, when a slow song starts up over the speakers and, within seconds, a hand is being extended over your shoulder.

You look up to find Taehyung's eyes gazing steadily down at you, a small but confident smile playing on his lips.

"Dance with me?"

And in spite of the unease that had plagued you only moments ago, you don't hesitate to let him wrap up your small hand in his large one and lead you to the dance floor. His palm settles on your lower back to pull you in close, and maybe it’s the proximity or the intoxicating smell of his cologne that weakens your resolve, but you find the words spilling out.

"Did you get her number?"

Taehyung looks at you quizzically, brow furrowing in confusion. "Whose?"

"The woman at the bar."

His face relaxes as he realizes. "Oh, yeah. I did."

"Good." You manage a smile. Why does it feel so hard? "It really is…good you're getting back out there. Are you going to ask her on a date?"

He laughs, mischief in his eyes. "I don't think her fiancé would like that." And now it's your turn to look confused.

"Her fiancé?"

"I met the two of them through Hoseok a couple times so we've chatted. Nice people." He nods his head, and you look over to see the woman now dancing with a man not too far from you. "They just got engaged, and she knows I'm a photographer so she asked if I'd be interested in doing the wedding. I said I'd call her this week to talk about it."

"Oh." You can feel your face flush, but there's no doubting the relief that floods through you. And Taehyung surely notices, grinning down at you in amusement.

"Were you jealous?"

"No!" you say, but perhaps a little too quickly because Taehyung laughs, his fingers applying a gentle pressure to your back to pull you closer.

"I'm here with you," he murmurs matter-of-factly.

You shake your head at him. "It's fine, Tae. If someone catches your eye…like I said, it could be good—"

"I'm here with you," he repeats, more firmly this time. He releases your hand for a moment to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and you have to look away. You spot Hoseok and Sunny swaying together in the middle of the dance floor, pressed closely together and smiling at each other like they're the only two people in the world. What it must be like to have someone look at you like that, you think, to hold you like you're something precious to be cherished. You had thought Jace made you feel that way, but now, watching your friends gaze at each other so delicately, so in love, you're no longer sure he even came close.

"What are you looking at?" Taehyung's voice rouses you out of your thoughts, and you suddenly notice his hand has drifted a little higher to where the back of your dress dips down low, exposing your bare skin.

Trying to pass off the shiver that involuntarily runs through you as a nod, you gesture at the newly married couple. "They're so good together."

Taehyung follows your line of sight, watching Hoseok lean down to murmur something in Sunny's ear that makes her giggle and press her face into his chest. "They are."

"Can you imagine loving someone like that?" Your voice is a bare whisper as if the words slipped out on their own accord, like a wish you didn't even realize you were making.

Taehyung's fingers splay at your spine, gently tugging you in until your hips are bumping his. Startled, your eyes snap back to him, breath catching in your chest. He's gazing at you intently, but as opposed to the intense fire that you've seen from him at times, there's only a deep warmth to his brown irises that you're not sure you've ever seen before. He looks at you with softness, with both a sense of familiarity and wonder that can only be attributed to your many years of companionship, and you see it all swimming behind his eyes—every day spent together seeking refuge from your families, every stupid childhood fight, every time you comforted each other through the bad days. And before you can deflect, can explain away the question as a rhetorical slip of the tongue, you hear his answer come out on a breath.

"Yes."

There’s a weight to it, the word landing from his lips like a stone into water, and you suddenly forget where you are. The world around you fades away: faces, music, and noise all receding into the background until it’s just him and you, you and him.

Just like it’s always been.

Taehyung's head dips towards you as if pulled by gravity, and your body responds in turn, hand sliding from his shoulder to the hair at the nape of his neck and eyes fluttering shut. Your breaths mingle together, his nose lightly brushing against yours, and you find yourself on the brink of keening forward, on the brink of diving headfirst into a place of no return, when—

"Hey, we're going to step outside for some air. Do you guys wanna—oh."

You spring apart. Jimin is staring at the two of you, eyes so wide you're worried they might fall out of his head. His hand is still half-raised, pointing in the direction of the doors behind him, and you use this to make your escape.

"Yeah sounds good I'll come outside definitely," you babble before speeding towards the exit. Glancing back over your shoulder, you see Jimin say something animatedly to Taehyung, but the latter shakes his head and mumbles something back, his face pink.

The night air is cool on your skin, and you could not be more grateful for it because what the fuck was that?

Were you really about to kiss your best friend? Or was he going to kiss you? Things had certainly been…different between you two recently, but this surely would have been an awful idea. If something went wrong or there was a misunderstanding, you'd likely never be able to come back from it.

He said he doesn't have feelings for you.

…But do you have feelings for him?

Maybe yes, his smile has always set your heart alight unlike anything else and yes, your brain seems to have been lingering recently on how damn handsome he is and yes, you'd do anything for him at the drop of a hat—follow him anywhere—but given your history, of course you would, right? He's your best friend.

And he deserves to be more than a rebound. Because that's what this must be—lingering heartbreak amplified by the emotions of a wedding. You may have even imagined Taehyung leaning towards you, a desperate fantasy of a mind just wanting to be loved.

That's it, you decide. Your brain must have finally snapped into a world of delusion.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you don't hear Jungkook approach you, practically jumping out of your skin when he places a gentle hand on your arm.

"Y/N—shit—you okay?" He looks at you with his big doe eyes wide and apologetic.

"Yeah," you say, as your racing heart begins to calm. "You just startled me."

"Sorry, I tried to call you, but I don't think you heard. We're back over there if you want to join us." He nods his head in the direction of a patio area behind him, and you spot Namjoon, Joshua, and Wonwoo sitting around a table next to an elegant fountain, its ornamental lights illuminating the magnificent swan sitting atop it. They’re all laughing and, for some reason, the sight makes your chest tighten.

"Um, maybe in a little bit. I think I might just need a walk right now."

Jungkook studies you, biting ever so slightly into his bottom lip, and you think you see something in the way of understanding behind his eyes (you wonder if it has anything to do with the notable absence of Maya and Mingyu). "Do you want company?"

When you just give him a small smile and shake your head, he nods.

"Okay, well…you know where to find us." He moves to rejoin the others, but then turns back towards you, taking easy steps on his heels. "And just shout if you need a friend."

You meander around the outside of the hotel, following the stone path that paves its way around the perimeter. There's a certain kind of peace out here. Though the summer is nearing its close, you can still hear crickets chirping in the grass and spot the occasional firefly dangling in the air. You focus on the swishing of the cars out on the main road and try to let the sound clear your mind, but as you settle on a short brick wall overlooking the property's enormous lake, you realize it's no use.

Your eyes drift closed as you sink into the grief once again, let it slowly overtake you like quicksand until your lungs are crushed and burning. But more than anything, you’re simply exhausted—perpetually drained by the demons which have once again arrived to feast on your psyche.

At this point, you think most of your frustration lies with yourself. Maybe you’re being overdramatic, maybe you should be over it by now—if only you were stronger, more resilient. Not the miserable pushover you feel you’ve turned out to be. Harsh? Yes. Unfair? Perhaps. This does feel like the breaking point in your life’s long line of abandonments, digging up feelings you haven’t felt since you were a child.

But that being said, it also makes you feel like you should be used to it by now. Should be used to having to bounce back—what else can you expect from the world at this point, really? What a fool you were to even think that this time would be different.

The sound of quiet footsteps has you opening your eyes again, and you’re not sure whether the man in front of you is the first or last person you want to see right now.

Taehyung has his hands in his pockets, watching you with that calculated expression he always has on when he’s trying to gauge your mood. But all you can see in his face on your end is concern, not a hint of awkwardness or trepidation after what just transpired between the two of you in the ballroom.

So it really must have been all in your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Kook said you seemed upset.”

“I’m fine.” You try to push out a smile, but he unsurprisingly sees right through it, closing the gap between you and gesturing at the spot to your right.

“Mind if I sit?”

You’re still not entirely in the mood for company but you can’t bring yourself to say no to him, so you give the tiniest of nods and Taehyung settles on the wall next to you.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, the buzz of the surrounding trees continuing its serenade. Taehyung doesn’t push, doesn’t say anything, only provides a steady presence. On particularly bad days when you were kids, you’d both wander down to the local playground and sit on the swings for a while. Sometimes you’d talk—either to rant and let it all out or make each other laugh to distract yourselves—but most nights, you’d just sit in the quiet and enjoy the feeling of not being alone.

It feels like that now, with Taehyung’s warmth radiating at your shoulder and the stars hanging above, but tonight, you’re compelled to speak.

“I’m really pathetic, huh?”

Taehyung’s eyes flash as he looks over at you, but he doesn’t interrupt, sensing you want to say more.

“I’m at my friends’ wedding, I’m supposed to be celebrating them and their love for each other, and instead I’m out here having a pity party.” You scoff. “It’s pathetic and selfish.”

“First of all, we are out here having a pity party,” Taehyung begins, and it draws a sudden laugh from you that you think sounds halfway deranged, but he only smiles.

"Secondly, you're not pathetic, and you're not selfish. You just went through a traumatic event, you know? You're allowed to have emotions."

"I know, but I just don't…want to," you sigh. "I just want it all to stop. I'm so tired of feeling weighed down especially on a day like this, but it's like it just doesn't end. The reminders don't end."

"You thought he'd be here," Taehyung says softly, and though his head nods slightly in understanding, his voice is tinged with sadness. "You miss him."

"I—that's not exactly it, no," you quickly say, not wanting him to think that you somehow regret being here with him. "Given what he did…like you’ve said, it's not forgivable, so it's not like I wish he was here. I mean, sure, are there some days where I reflexively think about him and stuff? Of course—we were together for four years—but I…still would prefer to never see him again."

Taehyung lets out a short sigh that you interpret as approval, but he stays quiet, giving you time to work out your thoughts.

"I think it's more the loss of security than anything. Seeing Hoseok and Sunny up at the alter…I couldn't help thinking that I was so, so close to that—to having that one person that I could commit to walking through life with. A partner, a friend, just someone to have day-in and day-out. Forever." You choke up, a fresh wave of tears lodging in your throat that you try to keep down. Taehyung is stiff next to you, staring down at his hands in his lap.

"And I want that, Tae. I want that so bad. But it's…so scary to start from scratch after feeling that close. I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm just constantly overwhelmed and feel like I can't outrun it, and then I feel guilty on days like this because I shouldn't be letting it get to me, and—"

"Hey, hey, Y/N, shhhh." Taehyung finally jumps in as you begin to spiral, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You don't have to worry or feel guilty because you are going to have all of that. Okay? You will."

"You can't know that."

"I do." He slips his pinky around yours briefly before his hand comes up to cup your jaw, guiding your eyes to his. "I promise you. I don't know how far out it'll be, but one day we'll all be together again at a place like this, and it'll be your turn." He gets a faraway look in his eye, seemingly perceiving something that you're struggling to even grab a glimpse of right now. "It'll be everything you've ever dreamed of—intimate and outdoors, right? I know you always said growing up that you were going to get married at the Spring Day Gardens. If you still want it, it'll be yours."

You let his words draw you in, painting you a picture so beautiful you're afraid to even let your heart believe in it. But his baritone voice presses on.

"And it'll be perfect. Not a cloud in the sky—nothing but sunshine. And we'll all be there, and you'll have your favorite lily bouquet and your perfect dress…"

Something stops him, and he blinks at you, dropping his palm from your face and glancing away at the lights from the party before resuming his tale.

"And the guy…" He licks his lips, and you feel the hand that's still holding yours tighten ever so slightly. "He's going to love you so much. Properly love you. He's going to see you come down that aisle and weep because he's just going to know that he's the luckiest guy in the universe. And if he doesn't cry right away, I'll kick him in the shins up there until he does because in spite of what Jimin and Jungkook think, we all know that I'm actually your best man."

You let out a watery giggle, the tears flowing freely now, and Taehyung reaches up to swipe a few off your cheeks, letting out a chuckle of his own.

"I want to believe you," you say quietly. "And hopefully one day I will. I just…I need more time."

"Whatever you need, you know I'm here for you," he murmurs, and you nod.

You fall back into silence for a few moments, Taehyung dutifully continuing to hold your hand while you lightly sniffle and wipe at your cheeks.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to go back to the party like this—I think you ruined my make-up," you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe, but you're the prettiest raccoon I've ever seen."

You laugh in earnest now, your shoulders shaking with it, and Taehyung smiles at you before suddenly rising to his feet.

"Wait here," he says, and then he's jogging back up towards the venue.

The silence envelops you again as you continue to mull over Taehyung's vision. Your battered heart is hesitant to dream, all of your imaginings coming in with fuzzy edges and blurry details that you just can't seem to place. But you're sure Taehyung was definitely right about one thing—you can't imagine a situation where you get married without him standing by your side.

It's a handful of minutes later when the man himself finally reappears with a hand behind his back and a mischievous smile on his face. When you raise your eyebrows at him in question, he comes to a halt in front of you and presents a full fifth of your favorite whiskey.

"What do you say we get out of here?"

The dim hotel lights cast a soft glow about the room as you and Taehyung pass the bottle back and forth, the mood significantly more casual than the extravagant party you just ditched. The decor may be fancy—Hoseok and Sunny certainly didn’t skimp when it came to location—but the two of you are perfectly rumpled, stretched out on the expensive sheets: you having removed your make-up and changed into your pajamas and Taehyung propped up against the headboard with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his jacket and tie tossed over the couch.

You’ve started up a game of Truth or Drink, a somewhat milder version of Truth or Dare, where you get to take turns asking each other questions, and the respondent has the chance to either answer the question or take a mouthful of whiskey. Normally, between you and Taehyung, such a game would be low stakes, with your shared years and few secrets between you making it hard to ask challenging questions. But something about tonight and the need for a distraction seems to have made both of you competitive, going for questions that you know the other wouldn’t want to answer.

“What was the last thing you cried about?”

“One thing you don’t like about me?”

“Favorite position?”

“Did you really lose your virginity in a tree house?”

“What’s your greatest fear?”

"If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?"

"Oh God, one of those cupcakes from Sweet Night Bakery," you groan. It was a place you had passed every day on the way to school, the wafting scents of cookies and cakes playing pied piper to your youthful noses. You had always dreamed of one day being able to afford the expensive pastries but had fled your hometown before having the adult money to do so.

"Seriously? Anything in the world and you want a cupcake?" Taehyung laughs, pink tongue poking out from behind his teeth.

"It's not just anything, it's one of my life's dreams," you counter, playfully shaking a fist at him for emphasis, but Taehyung seems unconvinced. "Fine then, if you have such a good answer. Same question."

He tilts his head at you, a mild haze in his eyes that tells you that while he's not drunk-drunk, he's definitely tipsy. A beat passes and he takes a drink.

"Ooh, mysterious," you slur. "But I win."

"Alright, alright." He grins at you. "I concede to your sugary dreams."

You mirror his smile, observe the way his fingers curl in his lap as you try to think of your next question. He’s always had nice hands—so delicate and careful with everything he touches. It’s odd, you think, how such gentleness could emerge from a home and upbringing that was anything but. How someone as bright as Taehyung could come from such darkness.

“Do you want kids one day?”

The question takes him by surprise when you ask it, and he physically startles, turning the bottle in his hands slowly. “I don’t know. Why?” He looks at you then, and you feel like you can see a riddle being worked out in his head. “Where did that question come from?”

“I don’t know,” you echo. “You spent so much time earlier imagining a future for me. I realized that we’ve never really talked about what you want for yourself outside of your career.”

Growing up, you’d discussed your dreams for the future, of course. But while you have always skewed towards the romantic, envisioning rings and weddings and vows, Taehyung’s always been much more practical and career-oriented—his plans always involved degrees and promotions and retirement funds.

A beat passes as he continues to fidget with the whiskey bottle before he again says, “I’m really not sure.”

“Well think about it now,” you challenge. “Or drink up.”

He chuckles to himself, some private joke in his head. “It would terrify me, I think. But I’d love them with everything I’ve got. Want to give them everything I didn’t have and be better than my parents were.”

You hum in agreement; you’ve had the same thoughts on occasion. Some who grew up in your situation may have been turned off the idea of children—and the idea does scare you in certain respects—but you’ve always been stubborn. “It’d be a chance to prove that it doesn’t have to be that hard. That you didn’t deserve what you went through.”

Fingers graze against yours in a subtle show of kinship. As always, you understand each other. “Exactly.”

And he may be struggling to imagine it, but you can see it so clearly: a small boy with big, brown eyes and a boxy smile riding on Taehyung’s shoulders. The two of them playing in the sand at the beach house or walking down the street together—the boy’s tiny hand tucked safely in his father’s.

The image chokes you up, fills you with so much warmth you think you might burst.

“You’d be an amazing father, Tae.”

There’s not a single doubt in your mind about it—that this incredible, thoughtful, selfless man would also be a wonderful dad. He doesn’t look so sure, but a flicker of recognition passes through him.

“You’ve said that to me once before,” he murmurs.

“I did?”

A nod. “One time when you were drunk junior year.”

You don’t remember it, the memory lost to the alcohol. “I guess drunk me has flashes of brilliance.”

“Maybe we’ll see someday.”

“I hope we will.”

Suddenly nervous, he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his neck. “But it’d have to be with the right person.”

“Has there ever been anyone who you thought was close?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re asking a disproportionate amount of questions.”

Reaching over, you pull the bottle from his hands, drink down a mouthful of burning liquor, and set it right back in his lap. “Answer.”

Wide eyes appraise you through the dim light; he looks almost impressed. “No.”

“No, there’s never been someone you could see a future with, or no, you won’t answer?”

“The first one,” he says. “I’ve never been with someone I could imagine having kids with.”

You frown, the blunt despondence in his tone cutting. “Not even Luna?”

A look is thrown your way—pursed lips and creased brow telling you that’s a stupid question.

“What happened with her?”

He scoffs, lips immediately wrapping around the bottle as he takes a gulp.

“So something did happen.”

“We broke up,” he states. “That’s what happened.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never said why.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. As if you’ve just asked him what he wants for dinner and not why the longest relationship of his life ended. “We weren’t compatible.”

You can’t help but sigh, a small part of you hurt that he still refuses to talk about it, that he’s closed this part of himself off to you. “You don’t trust me?”

“Y/N, no.” He shakes his head, looking genuinely remorseful to have given you that impression. “That’s not it. It’s just…impossibly complicated—“

“Was it me?” You’re suddenly reminded of a conversation with Maya from weeks ago, when she’d suggested that you were the reason all of Taehyung’s relationships had failed.

His lips part, tongue pushing into his cheek like he’s trying to hold words back.

“It was, wasn’t it?” you push, and his teeth dig into his tongue now, chewing. “You can tell me. I can handle i—“

“You were part of it, yes.”

In spite of what you’ve just said, the words land like a blow. You’ve spent years watching him go through breakup after breakup, and now you find out that you were a source of that anguish all along—helped fuel that heartbreak in his life.

It pains you to think you’ve been holding him back.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” you whisper.

“Because there was nothing to tell. It didn’t matter.”

“It does matter, Tae. If I’m getting in the way of your relationships…I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

That silences you, the sincerity in his voice leaving you blinking at him, and he continues.

“She didn’t like how close we are—most of them haven’t. But it doesn’t matter because at the end of the day, I’ll always choose you. And that’s the end of it. Nothing left to tell.”

You feel like you should protest this, insist on him putting himself and his future first.

But given similar circumstances, wouldn’t you do the same for him?

“Did Jace ever give you shit about us?” he asks, reading your mind.

He had, ranting about Taehyung that night in some fucked up attempt to explain away why you’d found him in bed with another woman. Before then, you hadn’t noticed the signs: hadn’t picked up on his reluctance to spend time with your friends, hadn’t read into the way he stuck close to your side on the rare occasions he did, a possessive arm always tight around your waist.

It all made sense afterwards, and you hate that the vulnerability and anguish of the moment made you question your own actions. You never would’ve shut Taehyung out—never in a million years—but it initially made you think that maybe if you’d been more attentive towards Jace, had been more sensitive to his feelings, that maybe you wouldn’t have wound up in the situation you did.

You recognize now that he didn’t deserve it in the end, obviously, but heartbreak is a funny thing.

Not wanting to have to admit to any of that out loud, you whisk the bottle from Taehyung’s hands again and drink. He watches the movement of your throat with heavy, knowing eyes, immediately taking the whiskey back for his own sip once you’ve finished.

“I must admit,” he says, the alcohol clearly loosening his tongue as he sags against the headboard. “I’m a little relieved about things ending for you and Jace. Aside from him being a certified douchebag, I mean.”

You frown, not sure where he’s going with this, and the look on your face must come across as offense because he’s quick to clarify.

“Not that I liked seeing you hurt.” He shakes his head, and you can see some anger at the situation still lingering under the surface. “No, never. But I just…now I get to keep you longer at least.”

“Keep me?”

“Yeah, this…” He wags a finger between you. “You know this has to end one day, right?”

The whiskey should be warming, but your veins fill with ice at his words. Losing Jace was one thing. Losing Taehyung would be a different matter entirely.

“You’re always going to have me,” you say, reaching for his pinky.

But he pulls his hand away.

“Not like this.” He smiles with what you assume to be intended comfort, but his entire demeanor is tainted with sadness. “One day, when you have the dream guy and the family and the white picket fence, there won’t be room for me. Not like this.”

It feels like earlier—him trying to paint you a picture of a possible future for you—but unlike earlier, you can’t picture this future. You don’t want it. Not if he’s not there.

“Tae—“

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He gives another sad smile, takes another drink. “No husband is going to want a third wheel hanging around. I understand. I want you to be happy, too.”

But you wouldn’t be happy without him, and in many ways, you’ve always known that to be true. But that knowledge hits you now with such force, such raw truth, that it renders you speechless and leaves you staring at him, drunken eyes laser-focused as if discovering the very center of the universe.

You want to challenge him on his statement, make him see that he’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But the alcohol muddles your thoughts, has your brain dropping half-formed sentences through your mind like Scrabble pieces that you can’t quite wrangle into a coherent thought.

Taehyung takes your silence for agreement and, seeming to suddenly realize that some kind of line has just been crossed, takes the quiet opportunity to flip the conversation back to your game.

“The shoes you gave me for my seventeenth birthday,” he begins, the words tipping out slow and oddly calculated for someone who’s had as much to drink as he has. “Where did the money come from?”

You know where he’s going with this. And it’s perhaps the only secret you’ve kept from him in the entirety of your friendship. “Christmas money, I told you.”

“No, really.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“I never saw that house decorated for Christmas even once.”

“Could’ve been from an aunt or uncle.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?”

It wasn’t. You snuck the money out of your father’s desk one day knowing that he wouldn’t have even noticed it was missing. Absent-minded in everything aside from work, your father had misplaced things constantly. You drink. And even though it’s supposed to be an avoidance of the question, it gives him his answer.

“I knew it.”

“They weren’t going to miss it, and you needed it more.”

“You could’ve gotten in so much trouble.”

“I knew I wouldn’t. I didn’t. And it was worth the risk regardless.”

Looking back, you wish you’d had more of a fear of getting caught—wish your parents would’ve scolded you, screamed at you, anything. It would’ve been better than the indifference you’d been met with day in and day out. As if you were invisible.

Taehyung’s head swings from side-to-side. “You shouldn’t have. I would’ve been okay.”

“And you shouldn’t have punched Jace in that club, but you did anyway, didn’t you?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not. You’re not the only one who gets to put your ass on the line for the people you care about. You were worth the risk.”

He blinks, regarding you as if you’ve presented him with some outlandish concept. Like you’ve asked him to explain rocket science or open-heart surgery. “Then you should’ve told me then.”

“You would’ve given them back.”

“Maybe, but then at least we would’ve been in it together instead of you lying to me.”

“And you’ve never lied to me?”

He hesitates, tongue tracing his bottom lip. “No.”

“Okay, then. Truth or drink: what’s the worst lie you’ve ever told?”

You know there must be one, can read it in the way his shoulder is suddenly pressed against yours as he tilts into you. Fingertips skim the bare skin of your knee, tentative in their movements, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath as the distance between you closes to mere centimeters, his gaze roaming your face and snagging on your mouth.

And you feel it—the pull that you’ve always felt towards him, the gravitational force that’s kept you in the same orbit since you were children. Two souls that intertwined the moment they sensed the other’s presence with a flash of awareness and said, You, you, you.

Thinking back on the entirety of your life, you don’t know how you possibly could have made it through without him: your best friend, your partner, your sanctuary. In such a volatile world—a turbulent youth marred by uncertainty and sorrow—he took your hand and held you steady, made sure you didn’t go through it alone.

In hindsight, you can’t truly regret it. Yes, there will always be a part of you that will resent your parents, wish that they would have loved you enough to spare you the hurt and stress they put you through. But just like the night when he brought you back to your apartment—held you close as you fell asleep in his embrace—your memories with him far outweigh the trauma you endured. When you think of your time spent growing up, he is by far the brightest star, outshining any darkness that may have lingered at the corners. It’s not the empty house or your parents’ stony faces that you think of first, but him: blanket forts and starry nights and walks in the park and blurry photographs and sometimes tears, sure, but only with him there to hold you.

Looking at this man in front of you, in every familiar line of his face and body, you know, without a crumb of doubt, that you’d do it all again. Screw Jace and Luna and your parents and anyone else who’s expressed disdain at your closeness with him. He’s written into every line of your history, every memory that’s worth something. And he may fight you on it, but he’s worth every risk you’ve ever taken—you would’ve stolen a thousand pairs of shoes for him. You’d move mountains and drain the oceans if he needed you to. You’d do anything.

You couldn’t live without him. You don’t want to live without him.

A moment of clarity, a wave of revelation as you lock eyes and are met with your favorite color. And at long last, you find the words.

I love you.

Your heart throws itself off a cliff…

And you lean in to press your lips to his.

a/n: happy holidays to all who celebrate 😊

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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slyandthefamilybook · 4 months

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Noah's Spring Jewish Book Review

this isn't gonna become a regular thing, don't worry. I just need to gush some about these books. I'm gonna keep the reviews short too because who's got that kind of time!

So far I've read 4 Jewish novels this spring and I'm working on a fifth. We'll go in chronological order

1. Thistlefoot by GennaRose Nethercott

~ Two estranged siblings, Isaac and Bellatine Yaga—the grandchildren of the famous Baba Yaga—inherit their ancestor's chicken-footed house. They travel the country putting on puppet shows and exploring their own mysterious abilities, all the while trying to escape from a threatening figure known only as the Longshadow Man, as well as their own pasts. History relives itself in a book filled with magic and mystery ~

This book was so damn good. Every other sentence is tattoo-worthy and hits you like a sack of bricks. The characters feel so real and raw while also managing to fill out their respective roles with a sense of poetry. The book has a supporting cast of memorable characters and a sense of real danger throughout. Every so often the house will interject in a way that reminds me so much of my bubbe (עליה השלום). I've read reviews that said it dragged on a bit in the second act but I was enraptured the entire way through. It's also pretty gay, which I always appreciate. 10/10

2. When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb

~ An angle and a demon—best friends for 200 years—set out from their tiny Pale shtetl to America in search of a girl who hasn't been heard from. They're accompanied by Rosie, a spunky and fire-spirited girl from their shtetl desperate to get away and have an adventure in the far-off West ~

No book has made me feel quite so seen as this one. As someone who grew up Orthodox there's virtually no representation for people like me. The majority of Orthodox characters in media are trying to get away. None of them love it quite so much as I do, as much as the characters in this book do. From Little Ash tucking his peyot behind his ears like my older brothers used to to the angel waking up to daven shacharit. Sacha Lamb takes the brave stance of "what if Jewish theology is real, actually" and it shines on every page. The writing effortlessly intertwines spirituality and reverence with a classic Yiddish folktale. It's also pretty gay. 10/10

3. From Dust, a Flame by Rebecca Podos

Hannah, the descendant of the famed Rabbi Yehuda Loew, wakes up one morning to find herself transformed, her eyes turning to yellow slits. Her mother seems to blame herself without explaining why, and soon after disappears. After receiving a mysterious letter, Hannah and her adopted brother Gabe travel to upstate New York to meet their mother's family, to learn the secrets of her past, and of their own lineage ~

I'll start off by saying I'm not sure if I was the target audience for this book. It was good, don't get me wrong, but the writing wasn't to my taste. It was a little... blatant, where I prefer prose to be a bit more subtle. Again, nothing wrong with it, just not my particular thing. I definitely relate to Hannah and Gabe a lot, each in their own way. A lot of the book felt very comforting and familiar to me. The book is equal parts supernatural action and intriguing mystery, and keeps you engrossed til the end. It's also Extremely Gay 7/10

4. The Way Out by Gavriel Savit

~ Yehuda Leib and Bluma set out from their tiny Pale shtetl, each on a mission of the utmost importance. Yehuda Leib is looking for his lost father, and Bluma is running from Death. Navigating the Far Country full of demons, goblins, and angels, the pair fight their way through history and mystery alike, and prepare to make war on Death himself ~

This book. Oh boy this book. Where do I start? This book made me cry several times, which hasn't happened in over 15 years. This book said everything about death I've been feeling since my bubbe passed away (עליה השלום). This book genuinely made me re-think how I view G-d? All that and more in less than 400 pages. This book harmonized with my soul. This book changed who I am as a person. This book made me crumble to dust and then built me back up from scratch. 10/10

#atlas entry #jew #jewish #judaism #jumblr #book review

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fountainpenguin · 2 months

Text

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #3

Oh, I was right- Wanda called Cosmo out for his crown still showing. That's a good way to signal to the audience that they're mystical.

Purple toe sandals! The artists were havin' FUN with colored shoes.

I'm a little surprised they went the direction of making Cosmo's design rounder and Wanda's thinner since, y'know... she's always been implied to be bigger than him, but hey! They both look great and I'm excited to see them with new body types.

I am obsessed with the fact that even in the new 3D style, the characters still default to holding their hands in that little bird-wing position. That is A+. Someone put a lot of thought into this.

Hazel, your hallway has a way cool rug.

It's a very snappy, jolty art-style. I think that works. I hope it doesn't make me motion sick, but I think it'll be fine.

SLKDFJ I'm on the floor, we're getting Hazel's parents' names straight out of the gate (Angela and Markus Wells).

AND A ROOM NUMBER? I am getting SPOILED. It's like this was made for me!

Friendship ended with Dimmsdale; my new best friend is city where we have more house numbers than 4158.

Cosmo, you are playing a dangerous game using magic in front of them. What did you need to change that you didn't know before?

Wanda too? Oh baby, we are SO back! Take me back to the days of Wanda cheering for Timmy to pour way too much liquid into his science experiment.

The welcome basket has a portrait of Cosmo and Wanda and they're gushing over it and saying "You're welcome! :)" and Angela is just like "... okay. I'mma head out."

Cosmo was about to floor me by saying Fairies have to be invited indoors, so I'm glad Wanda corrected him immediately.

Tbf, in Fairy World, "Doors are for chumps."

I'm glad Cosmo and Wanda both forgot how to sit on couches, seeing as most of the seating in Fairy World floats.

Mom's a therapist? That's never gone poorly for anyone in my fanfics before! ... Also, that's immediately gonna set up some plot tension when Hazel starts keeping secrets.

HER PICTURE ON THE BOOK IS 2D, I'm cracking up. Seriously, I think the running gag here is that all photos look like this. That is HILARIOUS.

Actually I'm on the floor; there is something so very funny about her giving Cosmo a book and him being excited about it, citing it as a "smart person present," when he's canonically a guy whose deepest, darkest secret is that he writes about astrophysics in a culture where Fairies think stars are also Fairies (alongside his children's books and blatantly 4th-wall-breaking books), so he doesn't let anyone know he writes. Ever.

I know that's not going to come up in this show because that detail is from "77 Secrets of the Fairly OddParents Revealed" (though he's confirmed the author of Astrophysics For Morons which Timmy found in the library once), so... chances are minuscule the writers for this show know he's also an author who likes "smart people books," but... I know. And I love him. Oh, there are places we can go with this!

Them...

sdl;fjk, Wanda swooping in to stop Hazel from poking Cosmo when she suspects something's up.

Oh my gosh, Angela is unpacking an entire box of her books and putting them all on a shelf. This is the best "show, don't tell" I've seen in a while.

Snack break for homemade bread.

#Riddle watches FOP #New Wish spoilers #I'm gonna mistype this as New Star spoilers just watch #screenshots #Dragonfly parents

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nex-ture · 1 year

Note

Kisaki Tetta x male reader

Where they are childhood friends and Kisaki always had a crush on him but thought the reader would be disgusted so he never confessed

Until kisaki is in the hospital after Tenjiku (let's pretend he survived) and the reader storms into the room full on crying

Kisaki x Male Reader

Sometimes I forget I have a blog..this request is over a year old. When I got this request, I was an anime only, and now I've read the whole manga. I do love Kisaki, though, so I'm excited to write this!

This is my first actual fic in like..a year so, I'm sorry this is shitty. I also might have accidentally switched from 2nd person to 3rd..I did that a lot and had to fix it, though might have missed some.

MAJOR SPOILER WARNING: Tenjiku Arc

Y/n wasn't someone who really stuck out within a crowd of people. His grades were average, and nothing was really exciting about his homelife. Yet he was somehow friends with the overachiever of his class, Kisaki Tetta. Everyone knew who Kisaki was. They just didn't care. He was the nerdy little kid who's only personality trait seemed to be cowering away from any and all problems.

Kisaki and y/n were very close, and it wasn't rare for Kisaki to invite y/n over to his house for playdates or to help y/n study for the upcoming quiz. Kisaki yearned for the awaiting "Yes" every time he asked his friend. He loved hanging out with y/n more than he loved hanging out with Hinata. It was a strange feeling for him. He knew he "loved" Hinata, but, y/n?

It took a long time for Kisaki to finally come to terms with the fact that he truly did like y/n as more than a friend. He'd never really had a crush on a guy before. He never even considered two guys dating.

Even though he'd figured out his feelings, there was no way in hell he'd tell y/n how he felt. Y/n has been with him through everything. He didn't want this stupid crush to be the reason he lost his best friend.

Y/n was there for him when he was banned from Toman. He listened as Kisaki ranted about how this ruined his plans. His plans of getting Hinata and ruining Takemichis life. It saddened to y/n hear him gush about all the work he was putting towards some girl he barely even knew, but y/n would always listen.

Kisaki loved the way y/n would always listen. It seemed like y/n would follow him to the end of the world, and all he had to do was ask and ask he did. Kisaki asked y/n to join Tenjiku with him and take down Mikey. Of course, y/n didn't even give it a second thought. He immediately followed behind Kisaki.

Though the events of Tenjiku vs. Toman were not in Tenjikus favor. The death of Izana came, and to the blame of none other than Kisaki. He didn't mean to shoot Izana. He swears on it. Kisaki stayed down on the floor as Hanma came around with his bike. Y/n watched as they road off, Takemichi in tow.

Y/n quickly ran off, knowing an ambulance, and the police would be there soon. There was no point in sticking around. He had to wait patiently to hear what happened with Kisaki, after getting back home he had texted the blonde but got no response.

He knew Kisaki had the gun with him. There was no way he was in any danger. He was also with Hanma, who was well known for fighting others with no good reason.

Yet the same week, he got a dreadful call from Hanma. He could've sworn he stopped breathing when he heard Kisaki was in the hospital. He was hit by some distracted driver. If Takemichi hadn't called an ambulance, the doctors were sure it would have been fatal.

As soon as the call ended, y/n hopped off his bike and headed over to the address Hanma had sent him. Making his way through the hospital and check-ins was stressing him more out by the minute. The only thought in his head was, "Is Tetta okay?".

Finally, he could go in to visit his friend after what felt like a year. Kisaki laid staring up at the ceiling, and now the door as y/n walked in. He couldn't describe in words how happy he was to see the boy. He was fighting back tears as he tried to read what the other was thinking, how pitiful he probably looked.

Broken bones, he was broken, in body and in spirit. Y/n didn't even notice he was crying until the tears fell. He quickly went over to Kisaki, closing the door behind him. He placed his hand on Kisaki's shoulder as he saw the condition the other was in. It was hell for him. "I'm so sorry.. I wasn't there for you."

The only words he could muster out came in a low whisper as he laid his head in the crook of Kisaki's neck. Tears filling up his own eyes at the sight of y/n crying...over him? They'd been together so long that he didn't realize how much y/n actually cared about him.

His breath grew heavier as he cried loudly. He was never one to be quiet when crying. It was like he was 8 again, crying over some half asses delinquents who came to beat y/n and him up. They never even got to lay a finger on him. Yet he cried every time because they were hurting...y/n.

Y/n had always been there to protect him. He wanted to protect his friend, but the only thing he seemed to have focused on was Hinata Tachibana. When y/n was there for him the whole time. She was the only woman who spoke to him, but y/n was the only guy who cared about him.

"I.. I'm sorry.." he spoke slowly, the accident didn't come without its permanent damages. His crying slowed as y/n lifted his head to look at his. "I..I love.. you, " Tetta muttered out the phrase as the tears started up again.

His mind started racing. Why did he say that? He was going to lose his friend. He was a freak, yet why was y/n smiling...why was y/n laughing...why was y/n still touching him? "I love you so much, Tetta." Y/n always knew exactly what to tell him. He needed y/n in his life to be happy.

He turned his head slowly in y/ns direction as they stood up from his hospital bed. "R... really? This..whole time I...I thought you would leave m...me for saying that.." his words slurred as his stutter, he couldn't tell if it was from the accident or the fact his heart was beating out of his ass.

"I wanted to confess for so long -" Y/ns laughter died down as they spoke. "-but you were always talking about Hinata, so I never knew how." Y/n looked down at Kisaki with a soft smile. Tettas tears slowed as he grabbed onto y/ns hand. "I'm so h...happy." Tettas' smile was faint, but it was there. Maybe something good did come out of this terrible situation..

#tetta kisaki #kisaki tetta #kisaki x you #kisaki x reader #tokyo revengers kisaki #kisaki x male reader #hanma shuji #hanma #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #x male reader #tenjiku #Izana #izana kurokawa #spoilers #tr spoilers #Tenjiku x reader

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redninjaoutfit · 18 days

Note

"why don't you hang out with your brother?" "he's at his new girlfriend's house"

You genuinely do not understand the emotional impact these two sentences had on me. I didn't respond sooner because this ask actually pushed me to write a whole ass oneshot about Colt and Lucky based on this. I've been sat here in my pajamas doing nothing but writing.

SO. ENJOY. IDK IF ITS GOOD BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT AND KNOW IT DESTROYED ME EMOTIONALLY. (below the cut cause its long as shit)

4386 words of unfiltered angst hurt/comfort.

His brother's soulmate

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

The bell signalling the beginning of the next class rang out loudly, piercing the ears of nearby students and rousing birds out of the branches of surrounding trees. In their rush towards the main entrance, no one detected the hasty, light steps and delicate gush of wind passing through like a ghost, unaware that someone fortunate enough to avoid the oppressive authority of the school prefects had slipped through the front gate, completely unnoticed. The truant in question darted absentmindedly towards nearby shrubbery leading to Bullworth Town, unlit cigarette sitting patiently between his paint-blotched fingers, other hand smoothing the copper mane his older friends enjoyed tussling so much.

Colt De Luca, a Bullworth freshman and member of the feared and respected Greaser clique, could feel his legs moving yet had no idea where he was headed. He let his body take him wherever as he busied himself with searching his pockets for a lighter acquired off Ricky in the parking lot mere moments earlier.

After successfully retrieving the small object and lighting the tip of his very last cancer stick, Colt took a vigorous drag and felt his lungs burning, instantly relieving some of the stress off his mind. Granted a moment of clarity, the Greaser looked around. He found he’d already made his way over to the main road leading towards the path heading to New Coventry, his own place of residence.

Looks like it was yet another day of aimless wandering ahead of him.

While Colt was not usually one to skip school, having been brought up to value education and consider its impact on his future, today was different - much different - he thought to himself as he bitterly kicked the pebble which had the audacity to find itself in his way. Colt’s mind seemed preoccupied with thoughts and anxiety from the very moment he woke up and rose off his paper thin mattress and continued through the few classes he chose to attend and do badly in. Frustration kept him on the edge of his seat as the teachers talked and talked and asked invasive questions and refused his requests for a bathroom break (which they rightfully suspected would turn into a smoke break). Not even his trusty sketchbook helped soothe his irritable mind and upon hearing the dreaded ring of the bell, nothing could keep the boy inside the confines of the stone walls of the academy.

Colt’s anger was not unfounded yet as he traversed the decrepit streets of New Coventry he could not help but cringe at the memory of his friends’ concern throughout the day. Many of them have come around to inquire about his well being, sought him out of their own volition while he hid and ran. Norton offered to lend a comforting ear. Ricky asked if he wanted to ride around town after school. Lefty remained on his tail break upon break, attempting to get him out of his own head with chatter. Hell, even Johnny, the aloof, tough king of the Greasers said they should ditch and talk. Colt, regretfully, dismissed them all. He didn’t need their help, he could do this on his own, he was grown now.

Grownups don’t mope about the anniversary of their parents’ death.

Colt took a final drag of his cigarette and tossed it onto the side before its remains could burn him, stomping it out with his dirty loafer. He looked at the pitiful bud for a moment before averting his eyes, reminded much to his dismay of his current appearance. “I probably looked like a pathetic kicked puppy right now, damn it.” He thought to himself bitterly and headed for one of New Coventry’s many sketchy alleyways.

He’s fourteen years old, fifteen in a few months. Practically a grown man, hanging around the most dangerous and intimidating group in the whole school (excluding the Jocks, but Colt didn’t like to think about the roid monkeys if he could help it). He should have already learned how to deal with grief a long time ago, should have forgotten about the whole ordeal either way since he was merely a baby by the time he became an orphan. He had no right to miss the people he didn’t even know. Yet the stabbing in his heart and tightness in his throat he felt at the moment were just as intense as when he was first yelled at by his uncle after bashfully handing him a Father’s day card he was forced to make in school. Or when neighbourhood children tripped him onto a busy road and asked if he’d tattle to his mommy. Or when he was scowled at by teachers for being brought to school by a boy not much older than him instead of an adult.

In previous years though, as juvenile and immature as it was, he had someone to share that grief with. None of his friends could understand better than that person did, for good reason too. He’d take young Colt out to do anything to get their minds off their parents, visit their favourite hotdog stand, wander around surrounding fields with no purpose at all, ride around on bikes from sunrise till dawn. They’d religiously visit their parents’ joined grave, year by year, and talk. Touch on things they normally would, couldn’t, and those conversations brought them closer than ever before.

This year was different, however. Colt would have to grow up and be brave on his own, since the jerk didn’t care about him-

Just as Colt was about to descend down the winding path behind the Tenements a small, familiar hand roughly grasped his upper arm, violently ripping him out of his own thoughts. He smelled the smoke before he even turned around to glance at the person with irked, surprised eyes.

Standing behind him was Lefty, his best friend, in all his jean jacket-clad, greased up glory, though the intimidating effect of his appearance was dampened by how out of breath he looked, coughing small droplets of black tar onto the pavement below their feet. Yet his grip on Colt’s arm never weakened.

“Dude, why do you have t’ be so fast?” Lefty gasped, straightening his back yet still appearing winded “Ya got a bounty on yer head or somethin’?”

Why was Lefty even there to begin with, though? Colt knew the little Greaser still had two more classes and though he often skipped school, some days entirely, he usually hid away from the prefects in the labyrinthine path toward the Autoshop. That, or he hung around the Blue Balls Casino, smoking it up to the point where they had to let it air out before entering.

He chose not to pry, however. He just wanted to hide somewhere, even if it was from who he considered a brother from another mother. Especially since his real one…

Colt sighed and looked away, feigning interest in nearby anti-Greaser graffiti.

“Not that I know of. Why are you even chasing me, shouldn’tcha be getting your beauty sleep in Slawter’s class right now?” retorted Colt, more venom in his voice than he would have wanted. He couldn’t even control himself with his best friend, what a child, he chastised himself, fists clenching.

Unbeknownst to him, Lefty had begun moving away from the alleyway as they talked, grip firm on his brooding friend as they slowly traversed the sidewalk rounding their designated yet dilapidated hangout spot. Truth be told, the chainsmoker had been worried about his childhood bud for a few days now. It was not uncommon for Colt to grow snappy and sad as they neared this time of the year, when leaves grew yellow and air crisped yet the avid painter found no drive to capture such picturesque sights. That was usually when he and the other Greasers stepped in - though emotional maturity was decidedly not their forte - to mitigate the bad moods of two of their clique members. That was when they partied the hardest, laughed the loudest, got up to most comedic hijinks they could think of and led actual in-depth discussions about things left untouched any other time of the year. The 50’s enthusiasts had their own, unique ways of showing each other they cared and, though unconventional, they usually worked.

This year was different and Lefty spotted it instantly. As the mid-October grew closer, nothing seemed to soothe Colt and the desperation Lefty felt witnessing his best friend’s pain was unlike any other. Unaware, or rather left in the dark about the reason for such an abrupt change (because he asked, many times at that!) he tried everything to make it better, which, ironically, did nothing. Which is why, having lost sight of Colt, Lefty turned to his friends to see if they’d caught wind of him anywhere in the academy.

Ricky, the ever-worrier, was the first person Lefty approached. He knew their resident mechanic usually had the most intel on all of their whereabouts since he usually obsessed over the people in his life to an unhealthy degree (such as his ex, but he didn’t like to talk about that). When asked about Colt, the older Greaser looked around the Autoshop’s entrance tentatively where he could only see Peanut and Vance having an animated conversation, upon which he leaned in, cigarette nearly falling from behind his ear.

“Don’t tell Lucky but I saw him dashin’ out of the front gate and haven’t seen him return since. Also might have given him a lighter, I ain’t proud of it but the kid was insistent.” Ricky confessed bashfully, smoothing the back of his pompadour, concerned expression never dropping from his face.

“Big deal, like we don’t all smoke.” Lefty muttered under his breath, shaking his head curtly. That was one thing he’d never been able to see eye to eye on with Lucky, he and Colt were barely four years younger than him and the rest of the Seniors yet when they smoked like a chimney it was okay. But enough about that.

“Why would Colt skip, though? He’s too nerdy for that, even on this day…” Lefty wondered.

“Don’t know dude, I’ve just been waitin’, hoping he’ll return before Luck sees and loses his shit. Hey, it wasn’t that long ago that he scrammed, maybe YOU can go bring our baby bro back since you seem to, ya know, be playin’ hooky too?” Ricky quipped playfully, looking at his watch to see it was already fifteen minutes since class began.

Which is how Lefty found himself in his current predicament, meandering the dirty streets of New Coventry, Colt in tow, head down as they traversed quietly. The silence was not awkward yet held an air of tension and sadness Lefty tried his best to signal a will to converse about through his pointed stares which, unfortunately, went completely unnoticed. Colt seemed lost in his own head, even more so than usual around the date of the anniversary. Lefty did not want to press but could simply not allow his friend to silently suffer any longer.

He led Colt towards a familiar, comforting path towards the abandoned, destroyed playground behind an old pizza parlour in a similar degree of upkeep. Since the closure of the restaurant many years back, the playground on its premises had been used exclusively by its undesignated audience of troublemakers, urban explorers and junkies who sought a secluded place to shoot it up in. It also just so happened to be where Lefty and Colt hid away since childhood when all seemed too overwhelming, when the world was just too big, their family issues too stifling.

The jean-clad Greaser moved the large carton box covering the entrance hole out of the way and bent down to pass, looking back at Colt as he went. His friends seemed aware of his surroundings at least, in his state of depression, as he mimicked Lefty’s movement and soon they stood in front of the hazardously rusty playground equipment, unmoving. Lefty saw it as his chance.

“OK dude, trust me, I know today’s rough on ya but I can see it’s worse than usual. What’s gotten into ya?” Upon receiving a deafening spur of silence in response, Lefty continued, attempting to look his friend in the eyes “I mean… skippin’ school, smokin’, ignorin’ us, to hell with the guys, ignorin’ me. It’s just… If something’s eatin’ ya up I wanna be able ta help and it clearly is.”

Desperate for any sort of answer, Lefty felt himself beginning to ramble, getting closer so he could put his hand on Colt’s shoulder in a - hopefully - consoling manner.

“And if you don’t wanna tell me, why don’t you hang out with yer brother? You know Lucky would be down to skip and drive around with you, he don’t like Maths anyway, you’d be doin’ him a favor.”

That seemed to finally get a reaction out of the artist, not one Lefty was hoping for, however, as the mournful Greaser sucked in a breath too quick to conceal and stiffened up under his arm. In the mere seconds their eyes met, Lefty saw pain and frustration and an unexpected glisten and moments later, Colt made a dash towards the entrance they had just breached.

Lefty hurriedly dove after him, grasping his arm much akin to how he caught him earlier in front of the Tenements.

“No gettin’ out of this one now buddy. Tell me what’s goin’ on and what’s it got to do with yer bro.” he stated, uncharacteristic severity in his voice as he led Colt towards the nasty, rusted swing set, other hand instinctively reaching for the full pack of smokes in his pocket “We’ve got all day, I may not be patient but for you, Imma sit here in silence till spooky hours till you’se in the mood to spill.”

Though the last part of his sentence may have been humorous, not even a hint of a smirk graced his face as he lowered himself carefully onto the squeaking swing and took out a cigarette out the box. His friend mimicked him wordlessly, sagging against his own seat’s cable, hand reaching out in unsaid request of his own cancer stick. Lefty did not hesitate before handing it over, bringing the tips of the cigarettes together before lighting them at once.

For a few solemn minutes, the two friends sat and filled their lungs with smoke, the only sound penetrating the silence between them being the croaking of the playground equipment around them and cars whooshing by on the other side of the fence. A light gust of wind tousled their hair from time to time, blowing the smoke back into their eyes, though neither gave it much consideration, lost in their own thoughts. Lefty wondered and pondered, unused to deep thought processes and obviously unaware of what exactly went down between the brothers on a day to day basis. To him, they seemed as in cahoots with one another as they usually were, albeit more glum with the anniversary of their parents’ passing around the corner. Having practically grown up alongside the De Luca siblings, Lefty felt he could confidently judge when the two had just had a falling out and despite Colt’s terrible mood Lucky appeared his regular self.

“He wouldn’t.” A meek voice disturbed his train of thought.

Lefty glanced over questioningly at his best friend who was mid cigarette drag, hands visibly shaking, brimming with anxious energy. Colt pushed himself absentmindedly back and forth on the swing with the heels of his loafers, the motion soothing to the Greaser, albeit barely. Noticing Lefty’s steely, concerned gaze, he coughed and continued.

“He wouldn’t. Be down to hang, that is. He uh… he’s goin’ over to his girl’s place today. Stayin’ the night too…” Colt mumbled and twisted his head away completely from his friend, cigarette long forgotten, burning dangerously close to his fingers and trailing ash on his pants.

Why had he even said anything at all? He wasn’t the only one who was growing older, Lucky, who’d always taken care of him, who’d always been there for him, who'd given up so much to raise both of them since their uncle couldn’t give a rat’s ass about them. He had grown too, into a respectable young adult at that, as respectable as he could be given their life circumstances. Despite being a notorious ladies man in the past, in recent months he’d been trying to actually make things work with a girl he met in their uncle’s shop. His undisputed charm worked its magic on her but contrary to his usual flings, so did hers. Lucky was actually serious about this girl, introducing her to his way of life, to his friends and (until that point, at least) the most important person in his life, his little brother Colt.

He was not jealous. At first. Jealousy is juvenile, after all. He enjoyed her presence, rather motherly, she was the calm to his fiery nature, the ying to his yang. She liked all of his hobbies and shared her own with him, some of which Lucky would never have considered uptaking in fear of them not being manly or tough enough. She was there for him through thick and thin, helped him destress and relax and take his mind off things when burnout approached since he was such a terrible workaholic. In turn, he showed her real fun, a rough, dangerous edge of the town and the Greaser way of life. Encouraged her towards spontaneity previously foreign to her.

They were a fantastic influence on each other, one could (and did, such as Lola) call them soulmates who healed a little bit each time they gazed into each other's eyes.

And Colt selfishly wished he could be such a person for Lucky.

Hence why, upon receiving the news of his brother spending the anniversary of their parents’ death, which the two of them usually bonded on, at his girlfriend’s place in a little village some distance away from Bullworth, something inside of Colt broke. The little boy inside of him, so painfully and tenderly helpless, desperately grasping onto his big brother’s hand like a lifeline fell onto the grainy sidewalk and watched his only support crutch walk away without looking back. He could not cry, he could not show weakness, yet he could not get up on his own either, left to rot and slowly melt into the pavement beneath.

He knew he had to be mature. To grow up one day. Let go of Lucky who did not deserve to have been forced to play parent for so many years. Let him lead his own life after he’d already shaped so much of himself to accommodate Colt's unseemly form. But he didn’t feel ready. Despite his desperate, unfair battle against his own feelings and his tormentor’s allegations, Colt knew deep down he was still just a silly, desperate child, incapable of fending for himself in the real world just as they had suspected all along.

He felt a hot, fat tear rolling down his cheek before he quickly rubbed it away with unwarranted force. Impulsively confessing something ridiculous to his best friend was one thing but letting him see him cry? Colt couldn’t handle that level of embarrassment. He’d already wallowed in self-pity in front of other people enough for his liking.

Before Lefty could form a response, Colt tossed the remains of his cigarette down into the sand below them, burying it with the tip of his shoe and standing up abruptly, not regarding his friend with the slightest of glances.

“I’m okay though, don’t worry ‘bout me man, ‘s just the usual. At least he’ll be havin’ fun. Let’s go back to school, I’ll mope ‘round a bit and then I’ll be good.” Colt began moving towards the exit of the playground, a faux smile plastered over his features. He knew it showed in his eyes which were still as mournful as before and although he realised that Lefty was not dumb enough to believe him, he’d hoped he was negligent enough to drop it.

The other Greaser had different plans, however.

While Lefty would not argue with the others saying he had the emotional intelligence of a fruitfly, he also considered it one of his greatest weaknesses and felt nothing was worse than when he wanted to comfort a friend and failed miserably due to his attitude of actions over words. His own upbringing and parents did not grant him much opportunity to develop a sense of maturity required to handle such intense situations and he fumbled with his words, stumbling and landing head first before he could even attempt to console the other person, which had ironically happened with Colt more times than he could count. The artistic Greaser was much more mature in that sense yet never judged him for his inadequacy.

Today was different.

Lefty caught up with Colt, placing a tentative hand on his leather-covered back, his long hair just barely tickling his fingertips as the other came to a half, short of bending down to the hole in the fence.

“‘S that why you’ve been so depressed these past couple ‘a days? ‘Cause Lucky ain’t gonna be here today fer you today?” Lefty inquired carefully, not a drop of judgement in his voice.

Colt spared him a measured glance, insecurity clouding his judgement as he convinced himself he saw humour within the icy gaze of his friend. He shrugged off his hand.

“I know it’s fuckin’ ridiculous and childish of me, okay. Let’s just move on and go back ta class.”

Lefty, indignant, stopped the advancing boy in his tracks with his elevated tone.

“Dude, FUCK class.” He spun Colt around to face him directly without a hint of hesitation “You need to hear this right now, you ain’t ridiculous, you ain’t childish, and ya certainly don’t gotta force yaself to be okay today. I’m not gonna sit here ‘n listen to ya talk about my friend like that.”

Both held uncertain breaths, not looking away from each other, one set of steel meeting sky blue in a desperate attempt at reading the other’s mind, hoping to make the message stick. Lefty knew deep down that if he let his friend go, he’d never let himself live that fact down. He clicked his tongue and continued, struggling to think of the right way to articulate his thoughts.

“It fuckin’ sucks, that you’se breakin’ a tradition like that. I know yer bro means the world to ya and nothin’ will ever replace him. But… you ain’t alone, with or without Luck. Maybe we don’t tell ya enough but you got the guys, you got me, I’m not gonna let you forget.” Lefty felt the corner of his own mouth twitch upward for a moment “Matter of fact, since you’se not busy with Lucky, I’m takin’ you out, gettin’ yer mind off it all-”

Colt attempted to butt in, shaking his head adamantly, a horrified blush gradually spreading across his features. “I couldn’t make you do that! You don’t gotta-”

“But I wanna!” Interjected Lefty, growing giddy by the second “Man, I want you to be happy. I want you to see you’se not alone. And I wanna hang out!” He assured, smiling with his teeth now.

“We can do whatever you want man, throw firecrackers at the coppers, ride ‘round the town, stay out ‘n sleep outside somewhere like bums. Hell, we can even go visit yer parents together… if you’se good on that…” Now was Lefty’s turn to smooth his hand over his pomp nervously, hoping he didn’t cross a boundary.

A quick glance upon Colt’s awestruck expression told him all he needed to know.

“Just… don’t isolate yerself from me, Colt. I’d rather see you bawl yer eyes out than have’ta wonder what’s got you down in the dumps. Lucky’s not the only one who cares about ya you know.”

He did know now.

It took a moment for Colt to collect himself after such an outburst from his usually humorous and emotionally unavailable best friend. The shaking in his limbs subsided as he carefully considered Lefty’s spontaneous stream of consciousness, gratitude clouding the sheer awkwardness of the moment and the embarrassment he felt at his impromptu venting session. While he still missed Lucky and felt lost without him by his side, he could now approach the situation with more assurance, his dearest companion in clear support even through his withdrawal and depressing attitude.

Therefore, after exhaling deeply, his gaze traversed over to his friends wherein he nodded, more enthusiastically than he thought possible mere hours before, agreeing to Lefty’s primitive yet endearing idea of consolation.

The rest of the day, albeit undeniably sombre and glum, was spent by the two best friends on their feet, causing unwarranted mischief to their beloved neighbours, wandering aimlessly and basking in each other’s presence. They did, to Colt’s alleviation and Lefty amazement, visit the marble headstone of Mr. and Mrs. De Luca and though Lefty’s presence in Lucky’s place was strange at first, it felt natural, as the chainsmoker encouraged him to retell tales of their childhood afore the couple’s passing, a request with which he complied enthusiastically.

Colt felt no need to remark that most of them he'd only learned from his brother.

Hours later and much after curfew, Colt and Lefty laid on a patch of desolate green grass outside of the dirt path surrounding New Coventry. Fully clothed, not caring whether the blades stained their garments green, they conversed calmly, though the events of the day were starting to take a toll on their energy levels. Conversation drifted lazily, their faces only illuminated by the wide array of stars visible to the naked eye outside of their polluted neighbourhood and the glow of the moon bestowing upon them the ability to look each other in the eye from time to time, snickering at one another’s drained expressions.

From where he resided, Colt was sure that through squinted eyes he could see his mom and dad smiling down on him from up above, telling him it was all going to be okay.

He hoped Lucky saw that too, wherever he was.

#red ninja posting #canis canem edit #bully cce #bully #bully rockstar #bully scholarship edition #bully oc #colt de luca #lucky de luca #lefty mancini #ricky pucino #small role but he's there #this has unironically taken over my life today #should i post to ao3? does anyone even care? idk but im dropping this at your doorstep like a cat giving u a killed bird #angst #hurt/comfort #my two favorite genres enjoy #im shit at titles please someone give me tips on how to concoct proper titles cause im! lost!#can you see the moment when i got a headache but continued plowing through

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lozchi · 8 months

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Hello friend! Can I request Taehoon with a reader who loves to dance? (Not professionally but they’ll do it while they’re cooking or cleaning or something like that.) And one day Taehoon hears a song that reminds him of the reader and starts to do some of their moves. No pressure! I hope you have a great one!😁

DiscorDANCE

A/N: Goodness, I love the idea. My self-shipping ass actually thought of this at some point. Sorry that this took so long! I've been pretty busy in life and I only finished reading Viral Hit today. @ryusuisloveinterest Pairing: Taehoon Seong x GN!Reader Themes: Fluff, petnames, Taehoon being a wuss

Taehoon finds it cute, really. It wasn't just that he found it cute; it was more like an electrifying sensation that coursed through his veins. Maybe it's just the way he's captivated by your movements, or perhaps it's just the way how your face lights up as you'd dance as if nobody were watching.

But honestly, the music choice could be better. Who in their right fucking mind listens to "phonk"? " It was as though someone had taken a blender to a cacophony of dissonant noises, mixed it with Snapper and Hobin’s yelling and called it music.

"Ughhhh- Make it stop."

Taehoon groans, rolling his eyes in discontentment.

"Nuh-uh. I ain't gonna."

As the pulsating bass throbs through the air, you find yourself swaying to the rhythm, your body moving confidently despite the mediocre music assaulting both of your ears. With each step, you defy the ear-bleeding tunes. Your eyes sparkle with an infectious joy as you twirl and spin, lost in a world where only your happiness matters.

The bass may be shit, but your energy soars above it, overshadowing the limitations of the melody. In your dance, there's a magic that makes Taehoon forget about the shitty song; Turning the ordinary into something extraordinary.

Fuck. You’ve got Taehoon smiling like an idiot. When he notices it, he quickly wipes it off, but it's not too late for you to catch his affectionate gaze.

”The fuck ya want?”

He scowls, only for you to return a smirk.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Dashing around the house, frantically searching through your drawers for something to wear, you disturb a very peaceful Taehoon (a rare sight, wow) engaged in a phone call with his dad. He might have overlooked your antics if he hadn't noticed you making a beeline for the door.

“Babe, I’m off to Rumi’s for a bit. Don’t forget to give Tiger his medication!”

Peppering kisses all over his face, he lets out a resigned sigh.

”At this hour? I don’t think so. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

It's not as if Taehoon is in any position to lecture. His sleeping schedule is even more fucked up than yours. Yeah, he admits to himself that it may be hypocritical to tell you not to go out so late and possibly cause danger to yourself when he does it too. Which is why, without uttering a word, you lock eyes with him, and he relents.

”Just get back safely or call me, alright?”

And the master negotiator (without negotiating) wins again.

”Mhm, I’ll be back”

Before you leave, Taehoon kisses back (followed by a flick on the forehead, because he’s the bitchiest of all bitches). He could’ve sworn he heard Hansu chuckling through the other side of the phone. This old man can only gush about this very moment.

Tranquility, at last. No jarring phonk music assaulting his poor fucking ears, no impromptu silly dances disrupting the peace. But amidst this newfound calm, Taehoon finds himself missing it all. (It’s only been a minute-) Now he actually doesn’t mind the music you play. He could be calling Hobin to come over, play some video games, talk to his dad again but he’s probably too embarrassed to hear his father bring up how soft he was earlier.

”Come here, you lil’ rascal. It’s time for your meds”

He calls out to your cat, who dutifully obeys, padding over to Taehoon's side.

And it wasn’t long before Taehoon finds himself listening to your carefully curated phonk playlist on Spotify. The beats pulse through his earphones, he pictures you leaping around the room, your laughter filling the space as you lose yourself in the music's infectious energy. And suddenly, the absence of your hijinks feels like a void he hadn't realized was there.

”How does Y/N go about it again? Like this?”

Taehoon mutters to himself, attempting to mimic your dance moves.

If only your cat could talk, it would regale you with TEA of Taehoon's comical attempts to imitate your silly movements. Despite his status as a taekwondo prodigy, his body just doesn't seem to move in the same fluid way as yours. It's a sight to behold, watching him stumble and flail around the room, his efforts more resembling a worm sprinkled with salt than a seasoned dancer.

He hisses, now cringing to himself and glad you aren’t around to see how shit-

With a sheepish grin, you approach the door, your keys conspicuously absent from your hand.

”Gah, how could I forget my phone out of all things?! I hope Taehoon’s asleep by now, otherwise I’d have to deal with his bickering, and- Taehoooon?”

As you reach for the handle, you're met with an unexpected sight: Taehoon, in all his clumsy glory, attempting to replicate your dance moves with a level of finesse that could only be described as the equivalent of the Hobin Yoo Company's chaos. Caught off guard by the scene unfolding before you, you can't help but burst into laughter, momentarily forgetting the reason you needed to enter the room in the first place.

”Is this what you do when I’m not around?”

And then, just when you think it couldn't get any cringier, he manages to stub his toe on the corner of the coffee table.

”FU-”

Taehoon clears his throat, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment in your presence, a rare occurrence for someone usually so composed. But his embarrassment is momentarily overshadowed by his curiosity as to why you've returned so quickly.

"Anyway, why are you here already? Not that I don’t mind, but—"

You bashfully avert your gaze to the ground, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips.

"I forgot my phone…"

"Tsk! Do you really have to be this irresponsible sometimes?!? What could’ve happened if you didn’t get in contact with me?"

Taehoon pulls you into a tight hug, his worry palpable in the embrace. But amidst his concerns, you can't help but sense his underlying desire to distract you from the awkwardness of his recent dance attempt.

A part of you acknowledges his genuine concern, but another part recognizes this as one of his subtle ways to divert your attention from the potential blackmail material you just witnessed. Despite his attempt to shift the focus, his affectionate (but tsundere) nature somehow manages to shine through.

”Taehoon?”

”Hm?”

”Why were you-”

”We don’t talk about that.”

”But-”

”Shush, or I won’t let you go back to Rumi’s.”

”Meow~”

#ptj universe #viral hit #how to fight taehoon #seong taehoon #taehoon bb #viral hit taehoon #doyouhave500won #taehoon x reader #how to fight imagines #i wish there was only one way to spell his name i'm struggling #seong taehoon x reader #taehoon seong x reader

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 11 months

Text

Comte 7th Birthday Story Event Translation

Hey everybody! Been a bit of a hectic month, but you know the hype never stops for Comte in this house. I've translated the first parts of this story, with more to come as soon as I complete the rest.

Without further ado, jpnese story event spoilers below:

One day, at the beginning of October, just as the signs of autumn were beginning to deepen-- I was enjoying tea time with Comte under the pavilion of the mansion. MC: There’s no mistaking it, clear skies and the sun high in the sky…it’s nearly autumn. Comte: Yes. It’s pure bliss to be able to have tea time outside on such a pleasant and sunny day. Comte, who was sitting across from me, suddenly frowns at the oncoming breeze. Comte: But the wind is a little chilly. Are you cold, MC? MC: No, I don’t mind it…[sneeze sfx] (! What a moment for me to sneeze of all times…) Comte: …

MC: I-I’m sorry. But really, I’m okay. He suddenly smiled and stood up as I anxiously tried to reassure him. Comte: --Don’t push yourself too hard. Comte, who moved to sit next to me, unfolded his coat and hugged me from behind to wrap me up in his warmth. MC: Th-thank you very much Comte: You’re welcome (It’s warm…) While I’m ticklishly happy and delighted, Comte spoke as if he had remembered something.

Literally????? That's so cute. No notes that is the sweetest thing I've ever witnessed. It's hilarious because as I was reading I was so 👀 why don't you warm her up, then, Comte. And then he immediately did and I was like AAAAAAAA BEST MAN!!!! KING!!!!!!

I have decided my new eternal location will be within Comte's coat, no I don't take criticism. This is my happy place

Comte: I’ve heard that my aristocratic friends have decided to hold a birthday party for me on October 25th this year. MC: Oh my, that’s wonderful Comte: If you don’t mind, I’d like to go with you Comte: --Will you stay by my side as my partner, MC? I couldn’t help the way my cheeks burned as he looked intently into my eyes. MC: If you’ll have me, then with pleasure When I nodded Comte beamed, his eyes sparkling with delight. Comte: Thank you, I’m looking forward to escorting you that day.

At the risk of calling him adorable 18 times in the course of this process, I will now be communicating telepathically--

(If it’s a party explicitly for him, it’ll probably be more luxurious than usual.) (If it’s on his birthday, I want to do something to celebrate him too…) What on earth should I do, what can I do to make Comte happy? (...there’s still some time. I’ll think it over.) It remained on my mind-- (What should I do? I was still mulling it over, despite his birthday only three days away…) (The time limit served to make me more anxious, and I couldn’t seem to think straight. As I walked down the hall worrying…) Leonardo: What’s wrong, cara mia? There’s a deep furrow in your brow

I love Leonardo so much sometimes, "ayo your face is all messed up, what's the matter?" this is just classic him, 11/10 never gets old

MC: Oh… Leonardo was walking by and stopped me, which was enough to make me come to my senses. (Yes, I might be able to get some good ideas from Leonardo…!) MC: Leonardo, could you give me some advice? Leonardo: Hm? I don’t mind… Leonardo blinked with surprise for a moment, before turning his face and smiling. Leonardo: Does cara mia’s problem…have something to do with ‘Comte’s’ birthday? MC: How did you… (Was it written all over my face?)

Oh MC, we really in it now--

As my voice lowered from the embarrassment of being seen through, Leonardo laughed with good humor. Leonardo: Actually, just a moment ago, Comte wouldn’t stop gushing about how excited he was to go to his birthday party with you. (Oh, I’m in love with you…) I was beyond happy--but also feeling shy about it--and all of a sudden I went pink from the neck up. Leonardo: So, what is it that you’re worried about? MC: …I wanted to be able to congratulate him in my own way, but given Comte is a man with everything at his fingertips I have no idea what to get him. I’ve been wracking my brain. MC: You’ve known him for a long time, haven’t you Leonardo? Can you give me some pointers? Leonardo: I see, that’s a very cute problem Leonardo laughed lightly as he answered.

Literally that part with MC where she goes (Oh, I'm in love with you...) had to be one of the funniest moments of identification I've ever had while playing an otome. The way she really went SOBS WAILS CRIES HE'S ADORABLE AAAAAAAA because g o d, same. I love how Comte is just that guy who gets married and is like HAVE YOU SEEN MY WIFE. I LOVE MY WIFE. WHERE'S MY WIFE--deadass it's like that one reddit guy meme (mywife is soft nd ilikeher...) from a while back.

I also think it's so cute that Leo's just watching all this from afar like ":> good for them." It just gave me such warm fuzzies!!

Leonardo: All I can say is Leonardo: Even if you have everything…that doesn’t necessarily mean you feel fulfilled/satisfied in every way possible. MC: huh… (What does he mean?) Leonardo squints his eyes a little at me when I tilt my head. He looks calm, but also like he’s looking somewhere far away. Leonardo: Why don’t you ask Comte what it was like, on his birthday, before he met you. (What was it like on his birthday before he met me…?) As I was deep in thought, Leonardo patted me on the shoulder as the corner of his mouth went up a little. Leonardo: Well, in the end, I think even if you don’t--he’ll be happy with whatever present you think of.

Honestly this is something that's frequently on my mind, and really timely in the context of the 5th bday story that just came out. Because I really do think Comte values sincerity of feeling and consideration for him a whole lot more than he does anything material. I've also been thinking about his upbringing and how it created a basis for that feeling, a kind of vacuum in his interactions with the world--in which a buried and silenced yearning keeps resurfacing despite his best efforts to smile and keep moving. Namely because he met people and had mentors who were earnest and heartfelt in their care for him, who raised him like a human child. Then he was more or less told at like 12 with zero warning: yeah you're never going to feel that again. Perform to survive and that's the most you'll ever get out of life. (Fellas...)

How to broach the topic. On the one hand, I could see how this is a reflection of a warped understanding--arguably even a kind of deeply embodied hopelessness--that his family/other purebloods imbued into him. But on the other, I can't help but feel that's just so many levels of effed up. It's not really hard to imagine how Comte lost himself, became so conflicted and distanced from his own desires. It's interesting too, because when Vlad tells him in the main story route "So you’re not going to do anything, as usual?…You’ve always been uncertain and indecisive, Comte…Even when you lost ‘her’ during the war…" and more or less goads him, I don't think I fully appreciated the meaning behind Comte's silent answering wrath at the implication. Because to be honest, Vlad was hitting an extremely sensitive point; that Comte wants more, but genuinely struggles acting on it with confidence because of his experiences and conditioning.

One thing I love about Ikevamp is that it is quintessential good writing in the sense that, even years later, I go back and I see dimensions to what's been said/felt and more layers of nuance than I'd ever imagined. Certainly Vlad's sentiment is insensitive on the surface level: he's making light of someone who died horribly, someone who died unjustly, in front of someone who felt real love for that person's life. But even deeper than that, Vlad's mocking a profound insecurity and point of prolonged pain for Comte that he struggles to talk about with much of anyone. To know that, and to use something so deeply private, is like the twist of a knife already embedded beneath the skin. It's no wonder Comte has a moment where he's inches from retaliating against his better judgment.

I feel like I also identify with this notion of feeling like something is deeply wrong, but not having the scope to be able to fully understand why or how to break away from it. I find it really realistic that Comte needed time and input from others to move away from that conditioning, to start seeing the world in a different light. Maybe even more apt, it all started with an act of courage; messy, well-meaning, imperfect--but true to who he wanted to be for the first time in his long life.

As I was spending time with Comte later that night, I couldn’t get Leonardo’s words out of my mind the entire time… Comte: --MC. [the way i hid my face STOP READING MY MIND S I R] Suddenly, Comte looked over from where he was sitting next to me. Comte: You look like there’s something’s weighing on your mind…did something happen? MC: Well… At the sound of his gentle probing, I find the courage to ask. MC: Earlier today, I was talking to Leonardo about attending the birthday party. Along the way I started to wonder what it was like for you on your birthdays before we met. MC: Could you please tell me about your birthday…before you met me?

Okay but like. I am seriously such a sucker for a couple knowing each other long enough where they just. Glance at the other and are like "aight wtf happened." It's beautiful. 100/10 hits every single time. No notes, poetic cinema.

I also love this sensibility between them where they're very good at giving each other some time to process things first. Like I can think of so many instances where Comte knew something was wrong immediately, but he waited to bring it up out of respect for her 🥺💜

Comte: … He blinked a little in surprise, but then his face clouded. Comte: …my birthday, before I met you? Comte: It’s such a boring/trifling story it wouldn’t even be worth telling as a bedtime story. MC: I’d still like to know…please, if you could tell me. I stared at him, and he let out a small sigh after I asked. Comte: --What I’m going to tell you now, it was a long time ago. Comte: There were many, many occasions in which other aristocrats threw big birthday parties for me.

Okay, I wanna talk about this mainly because I was so genuinely shocked by his sheer...vehemence? And self-derision regarding who he perceives he used to be. Because I feel like he usually just tries to elide it, or make light of it--not the visceral contempt here that startled me. In some ways, I feel like it might be because he feels more comfortable expressing the extent of his unhappiness with how his life used to be, and that's a good thing. On the other--;-;. I just want to hug him so bad...Comte don't deride the man I love, he's doing his best and is very special to me and lovely 😭

(Flashback begins) --Music plays at a spectacular venue and various meals were provided to entertain people dressed to the nines. Comte, who was the star of the night, was surrounded by many gorgeous women… Noble’s daughter: Congratulations, Comte Noblewoman: Congratulations! Blessings, mountains of gifts, and laughter echoes throughout the venue. At first glance, it did indeed look like a gorgeous birthday party, but in reality it was just a pretense. (No matter who I look at, this place reeks of barely disguised avaricious ambition.) No matter how many well wishes I receive in a place where such vapid desires swirl, my heart will never be satisfied-- Comte: While it may have been a birthday party, ultimately everyone was there for the sake of my wealth, status, and power…. Comte: --No matter how gorgeous the evening party, every corner of the room dripping in vanity left my heart more unsatisfied than ever.

Literally I am torn between two feelings. The first being, oh Abel. King. You would have loved My Chemical Romance, you were robbed as a young vampire. Second, the sheer unabating passion I feel for his emo dismissal of their vapidities is enough to make me explode. Comte I want you carnally. There's something very real and hilarious about even rich people hating other rich people that makes me wheeze.

(To be fair, there were likely a few decent folk among them as it often happens in any demographic of people--I just think it's very growing pains mood to kind of lose hope in others. We all have that phase.)

MC: … I was speechless, and kept staring at him in silence. His profile took on a blank, empty look; it was hard to believe he was talking about his own birthday party. Just looking at that expression makes my heart tighten… Comte: On the surface, I made an effort to look like I was enjoying myself. But deep down it just wasn’t the case-- Comte: With one of my pureblood friends, I accidentally let it slip when I was talking to him that same night. Comte: I feel so…empty (returns to the flashback)

Not the dissociation taking over, king 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Although this next part gets so unhinged I was literally screaming, it's a miracle Comte is some degree of normal after exposure to whatever the hell this is.

Pureblood friend: In that case, it might do you some good to fall in love. It would be nice to fall in love with another pureblood…but it would be especially nice with a human. Falling in love with a human will fill your heart with more warmth than ever before. Comte: Why would you go to the trouble of falling in love with a human…? Pureblood friend: They are truly beautiful, incandescent in the short lives that they live. They have the spark of life that we lack. I was intrigued by the “love that transcends kind” that my friend talked about so enthusiastically-- Comte: And what happened to that human lover…? Pureblood friend: …We broke up My friend shrugged his shoulders, looking rather sad. Pureblood friend: I knew I couldn’t stay by her side forever. So I said goodbye before it became too hard. Pureblood friend: Besides, if we stayed together for too long, people would eventually realize who we really are. We are different creatures, after all. Comte: …I see. [he looks so openly upset about this ;HDSGLKHDJFGHLKSJH] Pureblood friend: But I have no regrets. Even if it was only for a short while, I was able to love someone so deeply.

Where do I even begin with this one. What kind of advice is this.

Comte: feeling the existential dread more acutely with each passing day. will the emptiness ever end? His friend: go have a human fling and that'll make everything better. just let someone else fix you

He really said "bestie it's time for hot girl summer" and I really just don't know what to say here. Like. Please don't try this at home????? That is not remotely the correct answer but also that's lowkey so insane it loops right back around to being uproariously funny. The absurdist humor just writes itself here honestly.

This is what people mean when they say those born rich and powerful are just severely out of touch with basic tenants of humanity.

I’m torn between feeling disappointed, but also understanding where he’s coming from. No matter how hot the flame of love burns--it takes but a moment to extinguish between purebloods and human people. (No, it’s not limited to love…that’s how it always is, with humans. Every interaction is destined to end sooner or later.) Every time it happens, I feel the sadness pile up in my heart. How long will I go on living like this? The only answer I ever get is that it’s eternally inevitable. I lived in fear of that loneliness, seeking to avoid it by indulging in momentary pleasures-- (End of flashback) Comte: I figured the day I would feel fulfilled would never truly come… Comte: I lived as I pleased, such was the nature of my decadent birthdays.

Rest assured, Comte demonstrates how much he took this advice with a grain of salt throughout this event--which is honestly something I love so much about him. It's clear he really only agrees on the level of how difficult it is to be close to humankind, not really the idea that flings are the universal stopgap to his despair. I do think it's true we need support from others to grow and change, but I don't think this nuance is quite captured by his pureblood friend. I think Comte felt it didn't serve as an answer that was satisfactory to him, so he did what made him feel safe until he could understand how to act on what he wanted.

MC: Oh… I get a glimpse of him as he was all those years ago, buried in the emptiness of his past. I naturally hugged him close to me where I was sitting beside him. Comte: MC… Comte murmured in surprise, wrapping his arms around me and stroking my back. Comte: …While I was reminiscing about my birthday, it seems I got a bit carried away with the conversation.

EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU MC FOR HUGGING COMTE, BECAUSE GOD SAME. THIS POOR MAN :(( 💜💜💜💜

Comte: You can rest assured. It’s already a thing of the past, that I would spend each birthday mired in such dissatisfaction. MC: Then, what about now…? When I looked up, even from this close proximity his eyes only reflected me. Comte: --my thoughts from that time have changed ever since I met you. He touches my cheek and strokes it as if to seek out my warmth. Comte: 'Even if I fall in love, this emptiness will never be filled…' Comte: What’s more, I’ve given up on the idea that it’s futile to fall in love with a human, that I would only suffer from the distance between us… Comte: MC, you’re the one who changed everything for me.

Screaming, crying, wailing, barking, etc.

But also I feel something so real and raw in the idea that he was just tired of being forced to hide all his life. The earnest yearning for someone who can love and accept you as you are, rather than for all that you feel you have to be. The difference between love that is perpetually conditional, versus unconditionally gifted in perpetuum.

MC: Me…? Comte: Yes Comte smiled and looked up gently, leaning closer. Comte: I met you, and I fell in love with you from the bottom of my heart. Comte: In you, I found meaning in building up the “present” that we share together, accumulating into eternity. When I closed my eyes, soft lips pressed against mine lovingly. Comte: …you filled up the emptiness in my heart. The shadow that had crept into his eyes vanished just as quickly as it had emerged, filling me with relief. (“Even if you have everything, that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re satisfied with it all.”...) (I think I finally understand what Leonardo was getting at…) When this occurred to me, something came to mind that I wanted to give him for his birthday…--

--It was the day of Comte’s birthday celebration. We were heading over to the party. Comte dressed me in fineries, from dresses to jewelry to accessories, for today. MC: Thank you for such a wonderful dress and accessories… Comte: It was my pleasure, thank you for indulging my selfishness. Comte: I was especially excited to dress you up to my liking, tonight. Comte, who was sitting across from me, narrowed his eyes that were tinged with love. Comte: You look stunning, every bit as much as I thought you would. It’s going to be a challenge keeping you away from everyone who falls madly in love at the sight of you, once again.

MC: Th-there’s no one like that, don’t be silly Comte: Yes there is. In fact, he’s sitting right in front of you…a man who sees only you. When I looked down, shy from all the words of praise and his unabashedly passionate gaze, the stone on my bracelet caught my eye. (This is…) I didn’t notice it when I was changing into everything, but when the setting sun’s light shone against it, the stone turned the same amber color as Comte’s eyes--a sparkling gold. At the same moment, the carriage came to a halt. Comte: It appears we’ve arrived. Now, MC, allow me to escort you. --When we entered the venue, everyone was already gathered and waiting for our arrival. The eyes of the guests turned toward us in unison. Aristocratic woman: Comte! Happy birthday! Daughter of a noble family: You look very handsome tonight, Comte! Just like the story he recounted to me of birthdays past, many beautiful women began to gather around Comte. However, Comte’s eyes were on me…. Comte: Come here, MC

"He's sitting right in front of you...a man who sees only you."

However, Comte's eyes were on me...... "Come here, MC"

S T O P KING, it's a wonder MC didn't disintegrate from the attention, I know I would straight up perish 😭🥺💜

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #the way this story made me melt even more than ever before #leo's fondness to see them so happy together #mc giddy with comte's open affection and her real desire to reciprocate #comte's earnest love for mc and deep internal conflict #literally every moment comte is tender like this i think i gain actual years of life #splendid breathtaking extraordinairy perfect in every way humanly imaginable #i will die on this hill #and god dont even get me started on the next few parts im going to scream #he is so much. SO MUCH.#comte propaganda #fangdad propaganda #baguettosaurus #like i know he's always s o sweet on mc and that's wonderful and it makes me so happy #but i am ECSTATIC that we finally get to comfort and love him in return A U G H THANK GOD

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