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lapis-lights · 1 year

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Chapter 03 | Kiss the Skin From My Lips

'Falling From Grace' Series

[Vendetta!Leon Kennedy x Reader]

Song Title: Call Me What You Like by Lovejoy

Content Warnings: NSFW (18+ ONLY), Unprotected p in v, Porn with feelings, Creampie, Some dirty taking but nothing too intense, The lovers in enemies to lovers

Word Count: 14.1k

Author's Notes: Chapter three of the Falling From Grace series! Sooooo....this is really my first time attempting a smut scene so criticism would be really appreciated if you have any! Otherwise, I hope you guys like this chapter :)

Posts are scheduled for 8 a.m. EST every day until the series is complete!

Series Masterlist

Ao3

Summary: As tensions ride high between you and Leon, you execute your first infiltration mission of the J.I.E. lab. What you find inside is more than just a few simple monsters, but rather a life or death situation and an experience that leaves you and Leon absolutely breathless.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

And you can kiss the skin from my lips if it makes you feel good... I'm not sure if you want it; I'm not sure if you need me too.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

When you wake up, there's a deep ache in your bones and you think sourly of how you're getting on in your years.

At this point, don't people start planning their retirement homes or something? You've led anything but a normal life so really, you wouldn't know, but from what you've heard, it's gotta be something along those lines. When did your twenties end and your thirties begin?

Jesus Christ, you've let yourself go.

You start your morning routine, ignoring Leon who's still happily snoring away, and taking a trip down to the first floor to the gym room. There's some flimsy equipment down there and it's definitely not the high quality stuff you get at actual gyms or at the J.I.E.'s professional training programs, but you'll have to make do for now.

You start with simple stretches to warm up as you ponder everything that has happened last night.

You think about the way Ada had looked and by proxy, Leon. He's never mentioned her to you ever so you suspect there must be a reason for that. Maybe he wanted to protect her from you in case you decided to go on a rampage or something, but that didn’t make sense either. Was Leon into the type of woman that could fend for herself or did he just care if she was a looker or not?

If that’s the case, you were definitely crossed off the list. The scar tissue bears a heavy burden.

You lose yourself in the familiar burn of exercise and it feels oddly good to hurt in the ways that tell you your efforts weren’t going to waste. Eventually, this moment of peace will come to an end just like all good things, but right now, you stay in the intensity of your workout. You don’t even notice the door opening.

It’s a guy you haven’t seen before, clean shaven and muscular. You can tell he keeps himself fit but whether it’s for work or just for show, you don’t know. He doesn’t look bad at all with dark doe eyes and light brown hair that sweeps across his forehead enticingly.

“I didn’t know pretty girls vacationed here,” he says and you rip your eyes away from the floor to meet his. What little respect you had deluded yourself into making for him bleeds away and in a split decision, you decide to play with him just a little.

“And I didn’t know good-looking men frequented these parts,” you fire back, batting eyelashes and giving him the most innocent look you can muster. “No need to flatter. I’m sure you could pull someone better than lil’ old me.”

“Don’t put yourself down so fast, babe,” he snorts, heading for the weights and you mentally roll your eyes as you see his intent to try and impress you with reps.

However, you keep up the disguise and take a seat on a nearby medicine ball while watching him carefully. “I’m not putting myself down–it’s the truth.”

He doesn’t answer but he does make sure to put extra emphasis on choosing a fairly heavy hand weight and beginning to rep without any warm up. Silently, you know he’ll pull a muscle eventually and all for a woman he’ll likely never see in his life again. Womanizers like him never made much sense to you, but you suppose human instincts can make people irrational at the best of times.

“So you got a boyfriend?” he asks and you hum.

Would you? Should you?

“Nobody you need to worry yourself over,” you decide on answering, which wasn’t much far from the truth itself in all honesty. “Why do you want to know?”

“I want to know if there’s anybody keeping me from taking you out.”

“You’re at a hotel,” you scoff. “Do you have anybody waiting for you back in your room?”

“Nobody you need to worry yourself over,” he grins.

So he did come here with someone. How disgusting. You’re not the most morally correct person in the world, but even you understand the basic agreement of being in a relationship, and furthermore, you kow the importance put on the concept of loyalty. Well…you know how it’s supposed to be.

“Right,” you sigh, “and what are you proposing we do?”

His eyes flash suggestively and if you had the energy, you’d projectile vomit. “I’d take you out for a real nice dinner then bring you back to mine so we could-”

He shuts up when the door flies open and Leon strides in so confidently you forget that he’s supposed to be back at the suite stuck in dreamland. However, the stormy glance he gives you is nothing compared to the downright murderous glare he directs at the guy you hadn’t bothered to get the name of.

"Woah, man," the guy says, blissfully unaware. "You must be riled up for a serious workout."

"No," Leon answers, voice clipped and tight in a way you've never heard him before. "I was just looking for my wife who happened to get a headstart in her day without me."

The guy's face pales when he motions to you and you shrug non committedly before getting up and opening the door that leads out. Leon is hot on your heels as you make your way out and it's not long before he's gripping your wrist and pulling you back to stop your stride.

"Mind telling me what the fuck that was?" He demands, keeping his voice just quiet enough to not disturb the other residents.

"I was having fun," you hum, "since you're providing no entertainment for me."

"You can't just go wandering off where I can't see you."

"I'm not a child."

“Of course you’re not, but you’re practically a walking target for any undercover agent,” he sighs as you wrench your hand from his grasp and scowl. “You scared me is all.”

The sentiment might’ve been sweeter if your brain didn’t remind you of his latenight amorous meeting with Ada and it sours your whole mood even further. Long gone is that steadily growin soft spot and it only gets replaced by stone cold bitterness. Had the world always been this dark?

You spin on your heel and ignore the confused sound Leon makes as he follows closely like he’s afraid he’ll lose you again.

“You’re losing your edge, Kennedy,” you sniff dismissively.

“What?”

“Isn't this all some complex business partnership to you?” The walk to the room seems to drag on longer than you like and the nagging feeling of his eyes on you makes you want to scream, cry, and break all at once.

“Where the hell did you get that idea from?” he asks as if this whole thing would be any different than past encounters.

You ignore him, approaching the suite and unlocking the door with your keycard and pushing through roughly, not waiting for any protest from Leon. Your brain flies with so many unanswered questions and they’re so loud that you want to fall to your knees and beg them to stop.

Unable to take it anymore, you whirl around and he almost runs into you from the abrupt halt.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?!” You demand, bordering on a plea but he doesn’t need to know how deep the desperation went.

His dark eyebrows knit in confusion. “Like what?”

“Like–” you struggle to form a coherent line of thought, “–with those eyes.”

You know you don’t make much sense but you can see it register in his expression, dusty blue darkening into electric and the atmosphere rapidly shifts from one emotion to another. He’s so close now, less than an arm's reach away, and he looks at you from beneath his lashes in a way that’s enough to drive you to insanity.

Why was he doing this? How was he doing this? How was Leon of all people drawing you in deep enough to get under your skin? How could he command the tension between you like it was a simple race down a one-way street and simultaneously provide no context behind his motives?

Why did Ada come by last night and how did she know who he was? How did she know you?

These questions sprout one after another like those depressing time loop videos of flowering plants. He answers none of them and it’s only all the more infuriating.

“Leon,” you swallow harshly and stand your ground. “What do you want from me?”

The question is left hanging in the air, an unoccupied noose. It’s intimidating, dread on your shoulders like a heavy burden as you wait for an answer that never comes. Leon just looks at you like he was waiting for you to come to some revelation and answer the question for yourself but no such reason comes forth.

Ridiculous.

He does nothing, and his nonchalant exterior only makes you more infuriated and frustrated with the sensation of talking to the equivalent of a brick wall. Instead, Leon’s eyes flick around your face as if he was soaking every detail, absorbing as much as he could. You watch him warily like a hawk, wondering just how much longer the two of you could dance around this issue of unspoken feeling and silent motive.

Then, his eyes travel down to your mouth in a way you would’ve missed if you blinked. Your lips part as his tongue darts out to wet his own, the muscle gliding along his skin and leaving a light sheen of saliva behind.

The movement is miniscule but addicting all the same, and you’re almost knocked breathless with the urge to pull him close just to get his hands on your body. You want to kiss him so badly until his lips swell with the imprint of yours and his passion matches to suit your own. You want the taste of that spearmint gum he always carries around and the aura of alcohol that always stays with him no matter where he goes.

Craving flares in your stomach as tears well in your eyes, confused and angry as to why this was happening now.

Did Leon know how much he was torturing you? Was he just pupeteering you around just to leave you cold and alone like your family, friends, and past lovers did? You wouldn’t be able to handle that–you can feel it. That would be your breaking point, your hamartia.

Your death.

It takes all of your strength to pull away from him and his hypnotic spell though you’re not sure if he even had an inkling of the self-torment you’re undergoing with this new revelation.

He doesn’t stop you as you escape onto the balcony, slamming the sliding door closed, and gulping in the oxygen like you held your head underwater too long.

An ugly sob rips from your throat and self-loathing burns bright and hot in your gut. The heat is almost too much to handle as you hate yourself for allowing yourself to cry like this over something so miniscule and especially because of something Leon had done. He doesn’t even have the audacity to be sorry.

Still, emotions are nothing new even if your understanding of love is so warped beyond repair. You’re stronger than this. You’re better. You have to be.

Your knees give out and you have no choice but to fall onto one of the patio chairs and let the numbness spread through your body. The tears begin drying tracks on your cheeks as new ones follow the path of the old, but you don’t have the heart or energy to wipe them away.

What were your feelings about Leon truly? It’s obvious you don’t hate him as much as you had before and the thought of him dying now scares you more than ever. There’s still some old hate there, just behind your ribcage just waiting to explode outward again, but dulled by an entirely new portion of your brain.

The portion of your brain that wants to kiss him. The one that wants Leon to take you out on dates and make jokes as your husband and admire him under the golden lighting of the sun. The one that charges into your old self with a fierce snarl and starts a battle for your wishes and dreams.

Your head hits the back of the chair and you screw your eyes shut, trying to make sense of the whole entire thing.

Nothing but the image of that desolate and dead landscape from your dream comes to mind. You can still hear the rolling thunder and cracking lightning as if it had happened right in front of your eyes. You can still feel the sticky blood on your hands and the metallic scent permeating the air as lifeless eyes had stared up at you.

Devoid of passion. Devoid of anything.

Is that what you wanted–what you wished for? Is that your happy ending?

Somehow–for some inexplicable and unknown reason–you don't think so.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Guns weigh heavy in your palms, but in a cruel twist of fate, it also means home.

The power to kill someone lying in a variety of sizes are the only way to survive in your profession. That much is obvious. You've been through the same song and dance a million times over and then some–so this? This is nothing new.

Tensions have been high in the suite as you do your level best to avoid Leon while confined to such a small space with him. Over the past couple of days, your interactions have lasted with only a few clipped words and making plans to infiltrate the lab you'd found in the clothing department dressing room. Today was the day you'd decided to put your plans into action despite how poorly they've been communicated.

You know for tag team missions like this, communication is vital. However, you can't bring yourself to care. Being dealt potential death seems much better than having to face Leon and grapple with the warring thoughts tugging between wanting to end him and wanting more with him. He doesn't make it any easier.

He's not bitter. The exterior he puts up paints him as a grumpy middle-aged man whose experiences have only made him all the more angry at the world. You know him better than that, though. That's just how he is naturally, and if he was anything but that, you would know best how to spot the signs. However, this new attitude of his is something you’ve never encountered before so it’s hard to pinpoint just exactly what state of mind he was in.

Over the course of just a couple days, you find yourself struggling to hold on to that composure you worked so hard to craft. Leon leaves you alone and allows you to have your space, but even then, it takes all of your willpower just to not stare openly.

You indulge yourself late at night when his breathing deepens and your thoughts are just between you and whatever potential god there was. There were nights where your thoughts run rampant and take whatever chance you allow to admire him. You wish that there was something more between you emotionally and nothing physically. You want that sensation of his body on yours and what that might entail, and you want him deeper than you ever have before.

Shamefully, you wonder if he would burn just as deliciously as you imagined or if it would be more just because it's Leon. Would that controlled blaze turn into a wild forest fire under his advances? Would he steal your breath away roughly or would he take his unrelenting time to savor you all? Would he aim to watch tears roll down your cheeks or would he kiss them all away with whispers of sweet nothings?

Your enemy, putting you at the mercy of his hands and body, was a thought you kept sealed away tightly. Nobody could ever know about it.

When the morning came, you had checked your back and was delighted upon knowing that the wound had healed thanks to the full effect of Leon's questionable herbs. You'd put on your tactical gear over it, stretching to get the blood flowing and downing a coffee for good measure.

While he's in the bathroom, you check over your weapons once more and make sure all of your guns are loaded and stocked. Running out of ammo has been the reason for near-death multiple times so it’s especially crucial that you don’t make that mistake today.

Alone with your thoughts, you finally grapple with what you’re trying to do today.

For so many years, the J.I.E. had silenced you and molded your mind and body into a perfect little war soldier under the pretenses that you were making the world a better place. You’d been a fool, blind to the millions of deaths that were paying for the price of a few lives until that veil was snatched away and revealed the horrors of humanity to you.

Your eyes shut as you remember the chains, rubbing your wrists raw as you were forced into discipline. The memory of cold metal kissing your skin before breaking through it, promising worse if you hadn’t obeyed was fresh as a morning bloom in your head. Your own screams had sounded like they were from someone else, leaving your throat torn and your vocal cords frayed.

Leon would never know the extent of the pain you had gone through, even if he’s the only one that knew the basics. You were afraid of what he would think of that–of you.

He emerges finally ready and you stare wordlessly at him. A silent understanding passes between you and the two of you jump into action.

The car ride there is a blur. Despite having walked before on your small outing when you first got here, you'd figured it would be much easier to have a getaway vehicle ready and parked a couple blocks away just in case. The store opened early, and just in time for you to sneak in inconspicuously.

Avoiding employees was easy, especially after you had swiped a keycard from the manager’s stand upon finding it carelessly abandoned.

The dressing rooms were easy enough to get into and you led Leon into the one that you had changed in while you tried on that pretty little dress he recommended. It’s only been a few days but that night feels like it was so long ago, especially with how many cycles of emotions you’ve been subjected to since then.

Upon removing the middle panel, holding the keycard up to the gray block causes a loud click to sound out that notifies the door has been unlocked. Uneasily, you breathe in deeply and push in.

The interior is something you’re familiar with since it took on a similar appearance to that of the lab you’d been assigned to. However, the layout is foreign so it’s a toss in the air as to where anything could possibly be. The walls are lined with thick cords that are warm to the touch and the vibration of the lab's electricity current hums under your feet. You take out your handgun, keeping your finger off the trigger but staying alert all the same.

Leon fires off a shot and you whirl around just in time to see a camera falling to the ground brokenly.

The initial entrance is a straight shot but eventually you reach a hub of sorts where there are multiple tunnels branching off into different directions. Above them are signs that list the area of interest that each one led down to, ranging from dormitories to experimentations. The offices were the most dangerous to try and breach since multiple people working meant a bigger crowd to try and disperse if you got caught, though you're convinced that this place must be overrun like an ant colony.

"Where do we go from here?" Leon asks and your stomach flips.

You haven't heard him speak since your fallout a few days ago so it's an emotional whiplash being reminded of what exactly the most miniscule things about him do to you. Things that shouldn't elicit such reactions, making your skin spark with invisible electricity and putting your brain on high alert when he so much as breathes heavier.

"Anywhere we go is gonna be crawling with workers," you answer, keeping your composure. "They're usually confined to their assigned station for the whole day before being let off to go home. We should try and go to one that has the least amount of people or the biggest advantage for us."

"Where do you propose that might be?"

You look up at the labels above the tunnels before settling on one. "The observation deck. They use it to record the progress of their bioweapons and monitor any potential dangers they might pose so they're on a tight schedule. We might be able to find something about what they're doing there."

He nods and together, you make your way through the tunnel, shooting down any more security cameras you see and testing for any potential defense mechanisms they might have installed. It's eerily quiet besides the atmospheric noises and suspicion rises in your mind as you wonder why you haven't seen anybody thus far in your journey. You'd expected a flood of scientists or at least one assassination attempt as soon as you stepped inside, but maybe this wasn't as uptight as the lab you were at.

The observation deck was a series of catwalks crossing over a large arena, presumably where they let their bioweapons roam free while they stayed a safe height away from it. From where you entered, it happens to be in the 4th level, though the platforms stretch to multiple stories above your head. It looked almost similar to the pictures of the lab beneath the white house that Wilson had hidden away with the whole incident with Jason, though this one lacked any chemical experiments in the middle.

“Let’s go,” you whisper, pointing up to a space encased in glass. “They might have reports we can get into over there.”

Just as you go to begin walking, the static cracking of a speaker jumping to life immediately halts your steps. Leon whips around, pushing his back to yours as you defensively cover each other with your guns at the ready. There’s no telling where the speaker might be or where it was located, but the fact that it was active at all is a problem.

Then, the crackling dissipates and the voie comes through, muffled by the poor quality of a microphone.

“So you’ve finally made it,” the voice purrs through the intercom. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Neither you nor Leon answer, swiveling around and searching for any oddities while keeping your wits as the speaker crackles again and clears.

“Unfortunately, we don’t appreciate outsiders much, Agent (L/n). You should know that more than anybody.”

You grit your teeth, trying not to let their words get underneath your skin.

“Ah, well. You were a valuable asset to us. It’s so unfortunate we’ll have to do some clean-up, so to speak.”

Beneath you, something crashes against the wall with a violent boom and the dark growl of something massive reverberates through the whole entire room. A sick sort of dread grows as you look down before glancing back at Leon who’s sharing the same thought process as you are. It’s not that hard to deduce what would happen next, and silently, you pray to whatever’s out there that you would make it out of this thing alive.

“You really need to work on your speeches, pal,” Leon snaps and you would’ve laughed if you weren’t stuck in such a precarious and unpredictable situation.

“And you need to work on your manners, Mr. Kennedy,” the voice cackles, all ugly and sounding like they were hacking up a lung. “You’ll be regretting those words when you’re dead. Entertain the animal for me, will you?”

The speaker clicks off just as a metal door below flies off its hinges and nearly blows through the wall of the arena below. You break from the formation you and Leon had set up to look down at what you’re up against and your eyes widen with horror. It’s got multiple appendages whipping out from every limb, taking on the sick appearance of some mutated spider. Multiple eyes glow yellow as it glances around before zeroing in on you above it.

“Leon,” you mumble, backing up and he only gets a sparse good look at what you're up against before he’s grabbing your wrist and sprinting down the catwalk.

The beast screeches upon seeing its target on the move and one of those long arms shoots upward to latch onto the railing of the walkway. You just barely make it onto safe ground before it’s yanked away and the whole path crashes to the ground. Panic curls in your chest as you remember what had happened the last time you had faced off a bioweapon, and you start running after Leon once you gain your bearings.

All along the sides are countless offices that hold large filing cabinets, though they hardly matter in this chase scene. The monster hisses, spitting something before launching upward and beginning to climb the walls rapidly towards you. You’re able to deter it with a couple well-aimed shots to its head but, it only makes it angrier as well.

Once it’s up, your stomach jumps into your throat upon seeing that the thing is almost twice as tall as you are. It lumbers toward you with a hiss as it secretes acid that burns into the ground. Leon stops in front of you, pulling out a rifle and pressing the scope to his eye. You’re confused as to what his approach is until he shoots and the monster reels back in pain with a scream. When you look, you see that he’s hit one of the multiple grotesque eyeballs that embed along the legs of the mutated spider. It’s not hard to see where Leon was going with this so you take out your own rifle to join him.

Gunshots ring in your ears as you and Leon rain down hellfire, backing away every so often to put distance between you and the bioweapon.

Leon runs up a flight of stairs before shoving himself into a crevice that's only large enough to fit one. You stumble up after him and turn onto another catwalk, looking back and almost vomiting. The ugly monster's wounds are leaking pus that chews holes into the ground it walks on, eyes flicking wildly before finding you–entirely missing Leon–and heading frantically in your direction.

Of fucking course they made all of its bodily fluids acidic. What else would you expect?

You switch out your rifle for a magnum and shoot around Leon as he brings up the rear. He works on picking off the rest of the leg eyeballs while you set to getting the fucker right in between it's menacing yellow eyes. The recoil is almost unfamiliar, but you swiftly get back into the rhythm of handling the weapon, walking back before reaching to your tactical utility belt and yanking off an incendiary grenade.

You pull the pin, throw it, and shield your eyes from the burst of flames that erupt and start licking along the spider's body. It shrieks so ungodly loud that you would've almost clapped your hands around your ears if you didn't remember where you were and what your goal was. You reload your magnum as quickly and accurately as you can manage, and keep shooting. Leon sprints out, using the weakened legs as leverage to swing himself onto its back and start stabbing it with the combat knife he'd been hiding.

He's a genius and lunatic all at once.

You suppose this must be nothing new to him since Leon's faced who knows how many bioweapons at this point, but this is your first time seeing it up close and personal. He fights like it's second nature–like he's simply just breathing. It's mesmerizing to watch, but the moment is over when he gets thrown off into your direction and lands heavily in front of you directly onto his arm with a pained grunt.

You wince, hoping that it hasn't been broken or dislocated, reaching out and hauling him to his feet when he accepts your hand. Together, you keep shooting as Leon pulls the pin on a hand grenade and throws it at the spider's feet. You halt, palms covering your ears as it flashes multiple times then explodes, taking the mutated monster down with it.

Organs go flying everywhere and you duck to avoid the majority splatter of the acidic blood. The explosion causes a creak and only the middle portion of the catwalk sinks before crumbling down into the wreckage already created by the first ruined walkway.

Leon stands up, panting heavily as he looks down into the mess below that has sparked a fire and was burning merrily as if you hadn't just killed a man-made monster. Speaking of which, whose body had joined the metal below and had speared onto the sharp pieces that jutted out like a homemade spike pitfall trap.

He turns to you, going to open his mouth to say something but is rapidly silenced by a creaking groan and then he shouts in panic when the ground beneath his feet gives way. You gasp, lunging forward and grabbing his hand on instinct as the portion of the walkway falls into the void below and he's left dangling precariously from a fatal height with only you to hold onto.

He glances down then back up at you, desperation in his eyes as you both come to the same realization and conclusion.

You could kill him right now.

All you had to do was let go and it would all be over as if this never happened. He would be out of your hair and all that torment he subjected you to would dissipate like cotton candy subjected to water. This would all end if you would just take the chance to drop him into that dangerous trap where you would never have to see him again, never have to worry about him again. You could drop him and turn away without a second glance to see if he survived or not.

Leon’s eyes flash and you know exactly what it is despite never seeing it before. It’s pure unadulterated fear, with his life hanging in the balance of someone who had expressed distaste for him a healthy amount of times and whose certainly not favorable towards him in any way at the moment. Even if he saved your life, were you so willing to give up this once-in-a-lifetime chance?

You have the high ground now.

You determine his fate.

You could end it all right now by just yanking your hand away and taking back everything you had done to improve your relationship with him.

Your heart thuds marathons in your ears as all your muscles twitch and have a war in your mind. The thoughts curl and shriek around each other, fighting for what they believed the right thing to do was and it felt like the whole world was watching you for some sort of revolutionary choice.

You wince, knowing what your decision is.

Hauling Leon up, your legs burn as you lift his weight from the ledge and onto safe ground, rolling away when he finally lands on the stable ground that the catwalk had been attached to. Your lungs beg for air and you pant, faintly registering what just happened as you ride out that high of adrenaline. Leon must be out of it if he hasn't made a sarcastic quip about almost dying.

"We need to get to safety," you say, shakily getting to your feet and almost stumbling back down from the shock factor.

He only nods and you reach out to help him up. Even though you didn’t drop him to his untimely death, he looks at you warily before accepting the offer, almost falling to his knees again before you shoot forward and catch him. His body heat radiates through your skin and your cheeks set ablaze at the proximity even as you sling one of his arms around your shoulders and support some of his weight as you begin walking.

“There’s a safe room I saw on the way while we were running,” you mumble, avoiding making any sort of eye contact. “We can go over there and make sure you’re not hurt.”

“What about you?” He rasps and it leaves you wondering why he’s so adamant about the state of your health when he’s just looked death between the eyes.

You laugh breathlessly, almost sarcastically if you weren’t still riding the high of that fading adrenaline. “Don’t worry about me.”

You and Leon make your way to one of the cubicles, and you set him down carefully on the office chair that he manages to unceremoniously slump into. It’s clear that his almost-death is impacting him, though you now well that this isn’t the first time he’s had a touch of the afterlife. It really did make you wonder what about this time made it any different.

While he squeezes his eyes shut and massages the shoulder he’d landed on, you reach into your bag and pull out a first aid spray for him to use when he’s ready before standing and taking in your environment. The computer is innocently waiting on the stand with the J.I.E. logo set as the wallpaper, and there’s a filing cabinet that you try to open. It doesn’t give way and you mumble out a curse under your breath as you start poking around the desk drawers for a possible key.

Leo pops the top off the spray bottle and starts healing his wounds while you flip through various pages inside. Most of them are unhelpful and just detailing things you already knew until you tumble on a report for the spider you had just killed.

You put it into a manila folder that you put in your bag, rummaging around more until you find a hidden compartment that holds the key to the file cabinet. Upon opening the locked drawer, you find reports on agents–including your own–and details on the imports and exports the company had been engaging in.

Then, you hit the jackpot.

First and foremost was a folder of maps that laid out every level and room there was in the entirety of the lab. Then, there was a large binder that recorded every experiment the J.I.E. had engaged with the creation of their bioweapons, even detailing a new virus that they were meddling with. You flip through, finding monster after monster that has failed and succeeded. For now, this would be enough until you could figure out a plan using the map and going over the particulars of the experiments.

“We should go now,” you decide. “This is more than enough to figure out where we’re going and what we’re up against.”

Silence.

The lack of response causes you to turn around and peer questioningly at Leon who just nods mindlessly and gets up. He doesn’t meet your eyes and this attitude only makes you all the more confused. What had gotten into him?

Nonetheless, he follows as you make your way to an elevator that you go up in to return to the main hub that you had entered through. You suppose that nobody had watched you through the cameras and just automatically assumed you were being taken care of by the spider bioweapon since it's still suspiciously dead silent.

You still stay alert, and if you hadn't been so on edge, Leon would've walked right into the wire trap that had been meticulously strung across the tunnel. You pull him back sharply without thinking, fingers lacing with his as you yank.

He grunts as you pull away, going to carefully disarm it, figuring this was their way of alarming anybody you made it out alive. The explosion surely would have let someone know that there were two unauthorized people still running around, so it was good you had seen the thin wire and the two dark devices flashing red lights. Then again, you'd expected Leon to be just as attentive as you were to your surroundings.

Something was bothering him. Seeing him like this wasn't helping you much either, dying to know just what had him so distracted.

The two of you finally make it to the exit carefully pushing outward into the dressing room whose door had been locked when the two of you entered to prevent anybody seeing things they shouldn't be. A quick pack of wet wipes is enough to make yourselves look decent enough to not look like you’d been playing around in dirt and gunpowder, and you make plans to shower once you got back to the hotel.

All throughout your way back, Leon still stays infuriatingly silent from the lab to the suite, and the question as to why teases the tip of your tongue.

You get inside, let him know you're going to run yourself a bath, and retreat to the restroom as you sigh out with a whimper almost escaping in the process. In the solitude of your own thoughts, you finally let yourself feel that pain and anguish and confusion that you always hold back in the presence of Leon.

Fighting didn’t help at all. If anything, it only made it all the worse feeling guilt or something akin to it.

Would he ever tell you about Ada or was that just something you would have to figure out for yourself? Could you ever be closer to him knowing that he had said you meant nothing to him? It must be true if he had said it without expecting you to hear, and somehow, that sentiment causes a stabbing pang in your chest. It’s a wonderful and horrible thing–wanting someone so badly but knowing they would never want you back.

It’s a bittersweet taste on your tongue with a pungent aftertaste stinging your tastebuds, dooming yourself in the process.

Emotions were always so easy to stomp down and kill before. What about this whole ordeal could possibly make this any different?

Some dark part of your mind whispers that you know. You know what this provocative emotion is that makes your head spin and act irrationally, but you’d die before ever admitting it out loud. This may as well be worse than a death penalty–or rather, it is your death penalty.

The sound of rushing water acts as a soothing white noise until the tub is full and submerging yourself in the warm water causes a sigh of relief to fly past your lips in a gentle exhale. You take your time, washing your hair and massaging fingers into your scalp to help focus on releasing all of that tension that has built up over the past few days. The water turns gray from all that built up grime and dust and the soapy suds merely adds to the discoloration once you actually start scrubbing.

Once you’re done, you feel more human, more in control. The thoughts have quieted, and you finally start to feel like you can get a grasp on yourself again. You think you’re ready to see Leon and just simply resign to the watching the city on the balcony or going to sleep early like the past few days have allowed you. You can live with this. You can do it.

Once this is all said and done, you can part ways. You can forget him.

You could…

You have to. Right?

You step out, steam chasing after you as if beckoning you back into its warm embrace and you find Leon staring out the window mindlessly. You get hit with deja vu as it reminds you of the first morning you’d gotten here and watched the sunrise together. That was when you were nothing more than unlikely but eager allies. Now? You don’t know what you are.

You don’t want to be the one that wants him while he just wants the entertainment. You’re smarter than that.

“Hey,” you call out and he turns slightly, acknowledging you. The atmosphere turns slightly awkward when he provides no verbal answer. “I’m just going to go sit outside for a bit since I guess you want to be alone right now. If you need me, I’ll be-”

"Stop."

His command makes the words fade from your tongue and you swallow harshly. The first words he’s spoken to you since asking how you were at the lab are spoken roughly, making your heart drop into your stomach. When had you started listening to him when he ordered you around? You weren't one of his rookies or agents on his team, but right now, you were completely and totally at the mercy of whatever he might do.

"Why did you save me?" He asks tightly, turning around and finally getting a good look at you in an oversized t-shirt with pajama shorts barely peeking out from underneath the hem. His eyes wander and he swallows harshly. "You could have killed me–ended this feud and finally been the hero of this whole story. Why did you do it?"

You don't have to think about the answer, but it's shameful. After giving him the cold shoulder upon hearing him with Ada and sealing your emotions in a tight little glass bottle, they come spilling out now for Leon to pick through and judge.

"I don't want you to die," you whisper, taking a step back, afraid of whatever he might say.

He moves toward you at an excruciatingly slow pace, expression unreadable and more intimidating than the literal bioweapon you had survived just hours ago. You match his footfalls backward and you think this fear must be what prey feels like when death has locked eyes on it.

"I can't–We can talk about this, yeah?” You try explaining, wondering if there was any possibility you could talk your way out of this. “It doesn't matter–not really. We just…"

You're rambling now, trying to find an excuse to stop those blue eyes from piercing your soul and peeling away every layer of defense you've built up. He keeps getting closer and you're running out of room to escape to. You've never been more scared of him than in this moment–even when he almost killed you the day you met, you've never felt like this. A deer in the headlights, electricity coursing through your nerves as your brain struggles to choose between fight or flight.

Did he know? Did he know about all those lingering gazes and words that held guilt behind them and all those emotions that you weren't supposed to be having clogging up your chest?

Your back hits a wall and you're fucked.

Leon's hand finds your waist when he's close enough, your skin rushing hot as his breath fans your face and you smell spearmint. It's addicting. He's addicting. Your heartbeat rushes in your ears, pounding anxiously as the nerves in your body light up like a Christmas tree.

When he speaks, it’s all low tones and so fucking attractive.

"Sweet girl," he murmurs, affectionately raw in a way you never would've imagined him to be. His other hand comes up, cupping your jaw delicately and all the blood rushes to your face.

He's called you many things before, and has used more than enough adjectives to convey this disdain for you. Annoying, disgusting, naive, revolting, repulsive…but never in a million years would he have called you sweet. You must be dreaming, and if you are, you never want to wake up.

"I'm actually a very indulgent creep," you wheeze out and barely conceal a whimper. "Leon, you-"

He cuts you off as his lips press onto yours and all rational thought leaves your brain in an instant. His mouth molds to yours, fingers on your waist mindlessly beginning to run circles as he presses heavily onto you as if this is what’s been wanting just as much as you. All you can feel is him, his hands on your body, his mouth working your own in such a sinful way that makes your head spin and your stomach do cartwheels.

You close your eyes, let yourself fall from grace, and plummet.

His tongue licks into your mouth and you moan as he presses you further into the wall as if it were possible. His grip turns almost bruising on your skin as he guides the hand that had been caressing your waist down to your thigh, prompting your leg to wrap around him. When you get the hint, he uses the momentum to haul you up and you squeak as he gets his arm underneath you with ease and stabilizes you.

Leon laughs breathlessly, and he kisses on your neck. Your fingers thread through his brunette locks while you work on refilling your lungs with air. This small hint of joy–this humorous moment in something so tense–is what really matters. You can’t believe this is happening, but the way his touch burns is more than enough of an indicator that this is real.

He moves with you in his arms like you weigh nothing. Leon lets you down onto the hotel suite's bed gentle enough to not hurt you but still rough enough that you bounce from the buoyancy of the memory foam. Your back hits the mattress and everything seems to fall into place the way it should be.

Leon's hands are all over you, trailing from your hips to your stomach and up to your chest. The touch of his palms burns your skin like trails of heated lava pleasantly oozing along your veins. He burns so brightly but yet so so good. Leon hikes up your shirt, exposing your stomach to the cool air that blows across your burning body as his tongue pries your mouth open again. You hum in satisfaction as his wet muscle curls around yours hotly and arousal sparks in your gut as you feel slick just starting to begin pooling uncomfortably in your panties.

He pulls away, kissing the corner of your mouth as he pants, your legs still straddling around him even while you lie down. He looks so fucking pretty.

"Cat got your tongue?" He teases and you kick him lightly in the back with your heel.

"You wish," you retort mockingly. "You're all bark and no bite."

Leon raises an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?"

You smile, something genuine and soft and so beautifully crafted just for him. "It's whatever you want it to be."

"Then let me tell you how I want it to be." His hot breaths fan across your skin and you really do feel like you're already burning as his fingers pull your shirt further and further up your torso.

"Go ahead," you pull him closer, noses bumping together as you press a feather-light kiss to the stubble on his cheek. "I'm listening."

"I want you underneath me," he admits it like he's in a confessional, but whatever this is is far from holy. "I want to hear how you sound when I make you feel good, sweetheart." He nips at your neck, soothing the tiny burn with the flat of his tongue. "Can I do that for you? Will you let me?"

You wouldn’t just hand everything over to him on a silver platter. A little teasing never hurts, right?

"I don't know," you hum, though every instinct in you screams to submit just so he can do whatever he wants with you. "All this just for a little entertainment? You sure do go all out, Kennedy."

"Is that what you think this is?" He pulls away and you almost protest at the lack of contact until you get a good look at his expression. Something like sadness and doubt lining those electric blue eyes that you've come to stare at for hours.

You don’t like the sudden shift in atmosphere so you shake your head in hopes of clearing those shadows away from his head. “Of course not–I’m sorry. That was a bad choice of wording on my part.”

He laughs, nervous and still lingering with some semblance of unease. “You sure know how to keep me on my toes.”

“I haven’t been this close with someone in a while,” you admit and shift your eyes to a random spot on the ceiling, trying to ignore the giddy feeling that came from him still hovering above you from between your legs. “You should know I’m not very…experienced or anything. I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises, fingers tilting up your chin so he can lean upward to press a warm kiss to your forehead. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

You take the time to consider this, knowing that whatever was about to unfold would be something big in your relationship. It feels like there hasn’t been enough time to process your undying devotion for him or the questions that still linger behind Ada’s appearance, but you do know that this is something you can work out. This is something you want.

Still, there’s just some things you can’t let go of.

“Before I answer that,” you sigh, hating that you’re bringing down the mood with your fears. “Can I ask what Ada was doing here–what she wanted?”

Leon’s eyes take on a new emotion and his whole body tenses. You’re afraid that you’ve struck a chord he wouldn’t want to discuss and you fearfully wonder if this would sever any chance you have with him.

“You know Ada?” he asks and it’s painful when he says so. Whatever she means to him, it must not herald any good will.

“No,” you frown. “I heard you talking a few nights ago on the balcony. You…” The words don’t come off your tongue stubbornly, trying to stuff themselves back into your throat. “You said I was nobody–that I meant nothing to you. I mean, if that’s true, then what could you possibly want me for?”

The sting of it all comes rushing back in this incredibly vulnerable moment. You were never good with intense emotions nor did you have a good handle on them when they exploded outward like a volcanic eruption. It’s no surprise when the tears start threatening to fall, though you curse them and hold them back in an attempt to keep your dignity.

Leon makes a wounded noise deep from the back of his throat.

“I was trying to protect you.”

It doesn’t make sense. “What?”

He ducks his head, and you desperately try to understand. “She’s backstabbed me more than once. I can’t count how many times Ada’s used me for her own gain, and I just–I couldn’t just let her get her hands on you that easily.”

“So…?”

“I lied,” Leon pleads, and the ice melts away from your burning heart. “You mean everything to me, (Y/n). I can’t lose you like I’ve lost everyone else.”

“Leon,” you whisper, all too vulnerable and drowning in that unnamed emotion. The answer to his questions and advances pours from your lips like a sacred waterfall, ready and yearning. “I want you. Make me feel good–I’ll let you.”

His pupils dilate and he dives back down, claiming your lips with his in a rougher kiss than the ones previously before.

Your fingers tangle in his hair when he moves down, tugging on your shirt so that it could finally come off over your torso. The cool air blows across your hot skin, moaning when he massages the pad of his thumb around one of your nipples, and the pleasure sends your thoughts into a whirlwind.

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought of this,” Leon murmurs, eyes slipping shut as if he was trying to map out and memorize your whole body.

You don’t get to ask what he means by that when he opens his mouth and licks the flat of his tongue wetly across your tit. Your head tilts back of its own accord, a strangled moan escaping in the process before you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. Heated shame rushes to your cheeks as you look down, already finding Leon gazing up at you, mesmerized.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he prompts, pulling your arm away. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

Why was he so persistent with the pet names? If he keeps this up, you’ll be nothing more than just putty in his hands.

“Stop,” you whine, covering your eyes like that would change anything. “You’re gonna drive me insane if you keep saying things like that.”

“Do you not like me calling you names?”

You peek through your fingers to find him all the more attentive, trying to find what you don’t like and what you want. That love, care, and attention was something you never had–never deserved. How could you tell him that he’s giving you everything you want while not discouraging him from doing so?

“It’s not that,” you swallow shamefully. “Nobody’s ever told me that. Or called me anything, for that matter. It’s just new–I think I’m trying to figure out how to handle it all.”

His expression darkens and you think he might tease you or tell you to suck it up. Instead, Leon almost growls out, “Nobody?”

You make a noise of confirmation.

“Oh, baby.” He rests his cheek on your stomach and traces patterns on your skin. “Your last partner didn’t?”

You scoff, deciding to be vulnerable just this once. “My last partner was in highschool, honey.” The pet name feels foreign, but good nonetheless. You can understand why he seems so insistent on using them with you. “Like I said–it’s been a while.”

“Even so.” He picks up his head and shakes it, moving even further down and hooking fingers into the waistband of your shorts. “They didn’t appreciate you like you deserved then.”

Your voice cracks as you rest your head back onto the pillow and whisper, “I don’t think I did.”

Down, down, down your shorts trail along your legs, leaving you in nothing but a lacy pair of underwear and all too vulnerable emotionally and physically. You make a noise of dissatisfaction, tugging on Leon’s shirt as he was still unfairly dressed.

He chuckles and gets the hint, leaning up to throw it off as you get to admire his body. There’s multiple scars from the tussles he’s engaged in with fighting bioweapons for a living, but one in particular catches your eye. Set proudly on his shoulder is a bullet bound that looks to be years old, all knotted and improperly healed. He must’ve not had the right care available to him when he got it. Leon sees you eyeing it, and smiles, albeit a bit sadly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he urges, falling back over you and kissing you softly, leaving a peck on your chin as he keeps going down.

“I’ll worry about it later,” you compromise.

Leon lifts one of your legs, trailing featherlight kisses down your calves and into the inside of your thighs before swapping to the other and repeating the action. You sigh blissfully, letting that arousal build like a growing fire in your belly until you absolutely need something to quell it. You need him to do it–nobody else.

There’s nobody else in the world you would be this exposed to. There’s nobody else you need.

“Leon,” you whine, hips gyrating as the accumulated wetness has become noticeably uncomfortable. “C’mon. I’m dying here.”

He actually laughs at that–not a chuckle or a huff of a breath that you’re so used to. A laugh, warm and genuine and painting lines across his features that you commit to memory in case you can never have this moment with him again. The possibility that this is a one-time thing is terrifying, but it gives you all the more reason to savor it.

Granting you some reprieve, he finally, finally, presses a heated kiss to your clothed clit and you cry out, hips bucking up of their own accord because you needed more than just the slight touches he was teasing you with. Leon gets his hands on you, driving your pelvis down and holding it in place as he licks a heated stripe up the outside of your panties. It's a warm, wet, and wild sensation–one that gives you a taste of Heaven without actually being there.

The feel of it is enough to drown you as you struggle to writhe beneath his restraint, head tossing back and heart fluttering to the beat of hummingbird wings. Your fingers tangle in his hair instinctively and pull, earning a delicious groan from him that reverberates through the room. You’re obsessed, or something along the lines of it, and you hope this never ends.

"You're so beautiful," Leon murmurs, eyes fluttering shut before he begins yanking off your panties like they offended him personally. Your glistening core is exposed to him, positively dripping from just the small things he's given you so far. "Jesus Christ, sweet girl. Is this all from the little I've done?"

You squeak as he positions your legs over his shoulders, breaths puffing right over your waiting cunt that impatiently pulses with the need to be filled. He still doesn't allow you much room to move and a desperate little noise makes its way from your throat as he teases you with everything you want so close yet so far.

"Use your big girl words," he prompts gently, tilting his head so that it rests on your inner thigh. "I need to know that you want this."

"I do," you whimper immediately, trying to find solace in tweaking one of your nipples for some sort of pleasurable reprieve. All that dignity you'd been trying to preserve goes out the window. "I want you so bad, Leon. I can't take it anymore–please, please."

"Good girl," he purrs, all sultry and seductive.

You choke on a gasp when his lips close around your folds, sucking sharply and swirling his tongue in your clit roughly. Instinctively, your hips break free and shy away from his touch, but Leon has none of it and merely pulls you back down to keep attacking your poor cunt. You moan freely, hand tugging on his hair as he laps up your arousal like a dying man and when his eyes flick up to meet yours, the fire in your belly flares.

You cry out his name, unable to vocalize or convey just how good he was making you feel. You've never had this before–this attention and euphoria.

Leon's head nods into you as his tongue fucks you deeper and you squirm under his ministrations, pushing against his face in vain as if he could grant you more than he could. He sinks his middle finger into your wet heat, tongue circling on your clit as he pumps in and out of you. The noises your pussy makes when he adds his ring finger and starts rocking them in and out of you would almost be embarrassing if you weren't so focused solely on how he was making you feel.

He eats you out like this would be his last meal, savoring the taste of you on his tongue as he fingerfucks you brutally. Experimentally, he curls his fingers up and you squeal, babbling incoherently and just settling on begging him to let you go. You can feel it building up just as he brushes against a spot deep inside you that makes you ascend, and you squeeze your eyes shut as the pleasure pricks tears in your eyes.

He moans appreciatively, sending vibrations throughout your whole body and as you grind desperately against him. He keeps you as still as he can manage, but you're not a world-class agent for nothing. Even as Leon tries to control the thrusting of your hips upward, he also has to work on keeping your legs spread open in case you crush his head in between your thighs.

Maybe he wouldn't object to it.

Leon pulls away, watching his fingers disappearing into you with a nonexistent resistance, cooing over your whimpers. "Does that feel good, sweet thing? Fuck, you taste amazing."

You keen at his words, face blazing hot as he momentarily takes the time to rub his wet fingers all across your folds so that cool air kisses between your thighs. "Leon!"

"You say my name so prettily," he sighs erotically, pushing his fingers back into you and scissoring harshly as he's knuckle-deep. "You gonna let me stretch you out? Gonna let me fuck you so good, all you can think about is my name?"

"Please," you whine again, and you have a feeling you'd be asking him for a lot tonight. Trying to think of any way to speed up the process so you can get what you really wanted, you whisper desperately, "Baby, I need you inside of me."

"Fuck," he hisses, voice gravelly as he begs. "Let me fuck you, angel. Let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours."

Your legs spread even wider as he works on getting his jeans off, and you eye the happy trail that takes route from his belly button and disappears into the waistband of his boxers. He's leanly muscular, though he's nothing short of attractive to you.

To think that only a couple weeks ago, you would've killed yourself before even thinking about having sex with Leon Kennedy. Now, you think you would offer up yourself to whatever god existed just to be able to have this again–to be able to have him again. This vulnerable moment where all he wanted was to make you feel good and to hear you scream his name is something that has come straight out of your fantasies.

Fantasies during nights where you thought about touching yourself because of him but holding back because trying to hold back your noises while the man was literally sleeping in the same room was a horrendous idea. All that time you thought about what he would do to you and craving a touch you never thought you would get is paying off as he eyes you hungrily from above, licking the slick you'd left off of his fingers and palming the obvious tent in his boxers.

"You're staring," he comments slyly and you roll your eyes.

"And you're thinking about me," you accuse.

A smirk grows on his face, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes as he shuffles down the waistband of his underwear only slightly but just enough so you can see the implications of his sculpted v-line.

"How did you know?" Leon hums and you blush furiously as if that persistent heat could burn any hotter.

You turn your face away, unable to hold eye contact without getting flustered all over again. "Take it off before I do it for you, asshole."

"Would you?" He croons and you hide your face in your hands from the embarrassment of his unspoken words. "You're so cute when you're embarrassed, sweetheart."

It doesn't feel like you're adults right now, but rather two stupid teens getting up to something they shouldn't and acting like they were grown ups. It doesn't help the fact that you've had a playground rivalry for who knows how long, something so childish that you can't believe you'd let your icy emotions get the better of you for all those years. You can't help but wonder if this is something you could have had if you hadn't been so blind-eyed by the J.I.E.

You feel the mattress shift beneath you and you pull your hands away from your eyes just in time to see Leon throw his discarded boxers somewhere else in the room, but it doesn't take long for your eyes to trail down. Leon's cock stands stiffly at attention, already leaking precum from the angry red tip that he hadn't even touched yet. Your mouth waters, and your hand twitches to wrap around it though you haven't had this experience for maybe over a decade.

"See something you want?" He teases, though the words barely reach your ears as he climbs back to hover over you.

You're crazy, and you know it by the way the words fall from your lips without a second thought. "Yeah. Was it from just…?"

His cockiness fades for a moment and his eyes soften, a genuine smile spreading across his features and lighting up his already-flushed face. "You're incredibly sexy when you're enjoying yourself, princess." You startle, and he laughs lowly, pecking your cheek. "Liked that one, huh?"

Leon kisses you deeply and you moan upon tasting yourself on his tongue as he feels up your torso and wipes a thumb over your breast. Blindly, you feel down his stomach, appreciating the definition of his well-deserved abs, and finally get a shaking hand around his dick. The action elicits a rich groan from him, even though you've barely even touched him.

You slide your thumb across his slit, beading wetness sliding down your palm and providing the moisture you needed to stimulate him just right. Your motions aren't smooth by any means, and Leon can probably tell that you're not used to this, but he must be getting something out of it by the way his mouth drops open and his eyes screw shut with that beautiful blush spreading across his skin like wildfire.

"Careful," he warns, but it ends with a guttural moan when your fingers brush delicately across his balls. "Shit, you're gonna make me go insane."

"It's payback, baby," you simper, groaning when he runs a finger up your folds in punishment. In revenge, you pump your hand a little faster around his length and you can feel the throbbing veins pushing into your palm.

Leon pulls your wrist away, and you go to protest, wanting to give him more like he'd given you, but he shakes his head and cuts you off with a well-meaning kiss. "We'll do that another time, doll. Right now, it's about you."

"But-"

"C'mon," he cradles your face so gently that the words die on your tongue. "Trust me, sweetheart. I'm right here–I'm not going anywhere. Not not, not ever."

His words cause your emotions to soar, tears leaking vulnerably from your lashes and he wipes them away gently with the pads of his thumbs. Nobody ever stays like he promises and the threat of him breaking that vow hangs precariously in your mind on whether you'll truly take it to heart or not. All around you is him, hands on your body and voice floating richly in your ears. Could you have this again and again? Would he stay long enough to let you?

"Don't leave," you beg pathetically, looking up at him through shamefully teary eyes. "Just don't go."

"I promise," his forehead presses against yours as he whispers vows under the cover of this private moment with just the two of you. "I promise."

You lock your legs around his waist and pull him downward so that his cock taps impatiently against your stomach and Leon quickly gets the hint as he reaches down to pump himself a couple times in preparation. He kisses you deeply, passionately, as he lines up with your entrance and the weight of anticipation causes all the blood to rush to your head. He grinds for an agonizing moment, dick sliding between your folds tantalizingly slow before he finally gives in.

The head of his cock presses into your cunt and your mouth drops open, skin flushing as you pull him closer to get your lips on his to muffle the desperate sounds you make as he sinks inch by agonizing inch into you. Your thoughts scatter until nothing but Leon fills them and your heart beats marathons in your chest.

Your hands find his broad shoulders, hanging on for dear life as he pushes further into you as you adjust to feeling him inside of you. It's been literal years since you've last had sex and though you'd never expected it to be with Leon, it feels a lot more sentimental and pleasurable than the affairs you'd had with past partners.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," Leon groans out, rolling his hips so that he bottoms out and the euphoria washes over you so deliciously that your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"Le–on," his name falls brokenly from your lips, head spinning as you glance down and spot the outline of him bulging from your skin.

Leon's forearms land on either side of your head, his nose bumping yours as his lidded eyes search yours. "Say it again. Say my name again, sweet thing."

Fucking hell, his nicknames were going to be the death of you.

"Leon–" you cry out when he sharply thrusts once, twice, then slowly begins setting a pace that has you seeing stars. As he adjusts to being inside of you, his speed increases in increments. You allow yourself to be loud, because right now, you could care less about dignity when Leon was just getting started.

His hips slam against you harshly, and he has you almost screaming when you can feel your plush walls hugging every vein and definition of his cock that he drags through you sweetly. His balls clap noisily against your skin and just the sound of it alone was enough to get you high and ever so closer to that sweet release. Leon's lips land on yours, kissing you roughly and the euphoria you were gifted from him abusing your hole was enough to keep you on cloud nine for at least a week.

"Do you know how much I thought of this?" Leon grunts out, moving down so he can kiss the skin behind your ear affectionately. "Getting to fuck you so good that you don't remember anything but my name?"

His words make you whine and writhe beneath him until his hands hold your hips down so he can continue jackhammering into you at that relentless pace. You can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix bruisingly and the fact that he's so deep inside of you is enough to leave you absolutely dripping.

"Leon–fuck, fuck!" You cry out as he folds one of your legs up and settles your knee into the crook of his elbow, using that leverage to fuck your sweet cunt even harder.

"All mine," he mumbles, pussy drunk and caught in a brain fog. "So fucking beautiful and all for me, yeah?"

You barely manage to hum out an affirmation but the torturous pleasure he subjects you to makes it sound borderline pornographic. Your thoughts scatter in the wind and only leave you enough sense to rack your fingers through his hair as he rocks his cock in and out of your hole, addicted to the feeling as you lose yourselves within each other.

Higher and higher Leon takes you, licking up the column of your throat and biting hickeys into the skin of your neck as if to mark you as his. The pleasure burns brightly, a traveling firework climbing up to the sky in hope of exploding outward. This sensation–something you've never had before–is what makes you obsessed and afraid to ever let go. All those years that people came into your life and left without prompting is negated by the fact that he's stayed.

Leon stretches you into a full-on mating press, your knees kissing your chest as he fucks you deeper than before. You sob brokenly, clasping your arms around his neck and holding on for dear life as he pistons his hips harder into your dripping heat. The weight of him on your body as he works you both up to your heights drives you crazy and you can feel all that tension building up–that firework ready to burst.

"You know how pretty you looked?" He grunts out, working his thrusts as if he could go any deeper than he already was and you squeak as he gives your tit a slap. "All dolled up and wearing that pretty little dress I picked out for you? Fuck, I was so close to taking you that night."

"Leon," you whimper as those clear blue eyes bore into yours, hooded with lust and swirling with more emotion and passion than you've ever seen before. "Shit, if that's what you really think, why didn't you do this sooner?"

"Do what, sweet thing? Fuck this pretty pussy 'til I was rearranging your guts?"

You whine submissively at his words, tugging him closer, and hiding your face in his neck. His cock ploughs into your shopping heat, fucking you like the two of you are animals. Leon swallows your gasp, tongue lolling out to beg for air until he captures your mouth and steals all the breath from your lungs. His tongue wrestles your one into submission before pulling back, a trail of saliva connecting your moist lips.

"I wanted to," he admits vulnerably, "so many times we were alone–wanted to bring you to a quiet little place where we could forget about the missions and rivalries and show you what you were missing.."

You weren't going to last long if he kept revealing secrets like this was some sort of steamy confessional.

"I thought you hated me," you gasp, keening when his pace slows and begins favoring hitting you deep and hard over speed. Your eyes roll upward before squeezing shut and just revealing the feeling of him all around you in the best case of sensory overload. "I thought you wanted me dead where I stood."

He tilts your chin up, rutting deep into you that makes you see stars. "That cocky little girl who was unkillable, maybe. But, you showed yourself to me and there you were."

"But, you-"

"I didn't want to scare you off," he sighs, something soft that contradicts the way he's still balls deep inside you. "I was ready to kill you when you landed on my doorstep at that shitty motel, but…I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lose you."

There's a gap where he trails off, looking into your eyes as you realize that all while you scorned him and loved him, he was going through the same tortuous emotions as you. Those encounters, shooting bullets in each other's directions and painting scars through wounds was all one-sided. Leon knows you genuinely hated him in a past life as he hated you too, wished he was dead in the same way he was so close to putting a bullet through your skull, and yet he's still here.

"I did hate you." You bury your nose into his neck. "I preyed on your downfall for so many nights and loathed that you kept me alive just to prove a point."

"And now?"

You open your eyes, looking past through tears that have started to prick your lash line. Your chest swells with an emotion you haven't felt in a long while, reigniting flames on a piece of cold coal that hasn't felt the kiss of fire for so long. This feeling that has caused you so much conflict before has a name on your heart, your mind, then your tongue.

"Now?" You reach up, brushing bangs away from his moist forehead, and bring him closer like you were telling him a secret. Your lips ghost over his as you answer. "Fuck, I love you, Leon."

That declaration seems to be the breaking point as he squishes you between his body and mattress, sinking his weight onto you as he desperately begins pounding you into the bedsheets. You moan loudly, unbidden as you relish in the feeling of Leon and trailing your fingernails down his back in angry red lines. The pleasure tips you into overdrive, and you almost scream as you feel yourself just beginning to tip over the edge.

“Leon, I,” you stutter and his hips never break stride, seemingly spurred on by the implication of your words hot and heavy in your ear, “I’m close, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You choke on your breath as he wedges a hand between your bodies, rubbing furiously at your clit while muffling your sobs with an open-mouthed kiss.

“Cum for me,” he pleads, eyes squeezing shut like you were tormenting him. “Cum on my cock baby, and I’ll cum for you too.”

Your head slams back onto the pillow, gasping and choking for air as you finally crash and that firework explodes outward. Your mind reels as you see white, gushing hotly around Leon who’s still chasing after his own high. You take the overstimulation, tears running freely now as you hold on for dear life he uses you to achieve his own orgasm, his grunts and breathy moans making home inside your memory as the sweetest sounds you’ve ever heard. You call out his name like a chant–a mantra, sweeter than any prayer you’ve ever had to utter.

When he pulls you in his arms, settles his full weight onto you, and kisses you so desperately like you’d disappear the moment he opened his eyes, you know he’s reached it.

Leon rams his hips so that he drives as far as he could into you, cum shooting white hot ropes and painting your walls white. You choke on your own breath as warmth spreads through your body, addicted already to the feeling of his cum spurting inside. You're mesmerized as you watch as his face pinches into something so beautiful and pretty to watch, and you wish you could ingrain the look of him coming undone into your head permanently.

Nothing but hot pants fill the air as he lifts himself from your frame, hands bracketing either side of your head as he pushes himself up to get a good look at you, blissed out on his cock and almost fucked stupid. He brushes fair from your forehead and kisses you lightly in a deep contrast to the way he had nearly bruised your lips as he came.

You shift and he winces, slamming his hands on your hips to hold you still as he stays inside of you.

"Stop," he breathes out as if it pained him.

"Leon? What are you-"

"Fuck–just please, I need–" he gasps, slightly moist forehead coming to rest on yours, "You're so good, baby. Just let me stay like this for a bit–just a second."

Your emotions take a hit as he begs you to stay despite the oversensitivity combating the need to be as close as possible to you. "Alright," you whisper, though a pressing question comes to the forefront of your mind. "Can I ask you something?"

"Hm?"

"Why did…Why’d you kiss me?"

He laughs, all gentle and real right from his stomach and it sends shivers down your spine. You want to draw the sight of his laugh lines into your permanent memory. "Of all the things that just happened, that's what you want to know?"

"Mhm," you affirm, having no strength to try and fight him on the matter. He's left you breathless and tired, and frankly, you just want to know what’s on his mind.

"Well, that's a bit of a stupid question." He nudges your chin up with the crook of his index finger and those blue crystalline eyes catch yours to sweep you off your feet again. "I kissed you because I wanted to, sweetheart.”

You breathe, working on keeping it level as he finally slips out of you, mixed fluids leaking out of your spent cunt upon not being plugged anymore. Leon leans back, admiring his work and laughs to himself. His eyes trail up your body and your gazes connect. You find him looking at you, searching for something like he usually does, but this time, he finally seems he found what he’s looking for.

“Did I let you find it?” you ask tiredly.

“Hm?”

“Back at the cafe,” you explain with exhaustion lacing your voice. Leon gets up, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment, and you hear the sound of running water. When he comes back out, he grabs a water bottle from the fridge that was provided from the hotel and returns to the bedside, running the warm cloth against your oversensitive skin.

“Yeah?” He murmurs to show he’s still listening even as he carefully wipes down the inside of your thighs. “What about it?”

“You said you were looking for something, but I wasn’t letting you find it. Did I do it?”

Leon pauses in his actions, takes a good look at you though you don’t know what’s happening in that complicated head of his. Nonetheless, he smiles and crows feet crinkle his eyes as he leans over to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “You did,” he affirms sweetly, then once he deems you clean enough, he says, “You did good, baby.”

The praise goes straight to your head as you try uprighting yourself, but almost miserably failing before Leon catches you. One of his arms curls around your rigid upper back and the other tucks beneath your knees as he easily lifts you and carries you to the pull-out bed that he’s been sleeping on since you got here. Gently, he deposits you on the mattress with the water bottle before beginning to wipe himself down.

You take gentle sips, watching him as he finishes up and joins you at your side on the bed, sinking down in the much cleaner sheets and tossing the fabric over you. Quickly, you fall into place with your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat and legs intertwined. One of his arms lazily tosses over your waist as he buries his nose into your hair.

Never before has your heart felt so full and alive before, pumping strongly and emotionally just for the man in front of you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, feeling sleep weigh heavily on your mind. “For everything.”

“You make it sound like you’re dying,” he jokes, hand running cautiously up and down your back. You shudder as he feels along every scar with expert care, but you find it's not as bad as you thought it would be. “We still have a long way ahead of us.”

“We do,” you agree thoughtfully before hesitating. “Do…you feel the same way I do?”

Leon kisses the crown of your head affectionately, polling you tighter and more securely against him. “Oh, I adore you, sweet girl. You’ve got me at your beck and call, I can promise you that.”

“Okay,” you settle down, finally at peace. “You’ll stay?”

He tilts your head up, making you stare into those blue eyes that have carried you through so many years of torture and conflicted love. Leon Kennedy, this masterpiece of a man weighed down by years of his job who has tried to kill you and in turn survived your attempts to slit his throat wide open loves you. Even when you hated him, you couldn’t stay away as if the stars and the universe had destined for you to always be connected.

Maybe this is what it means to be in love–to be devoted to someone that you need then like you need the air to breathe.

“I promise,” Leon says, sleep edging on his voice warmly but still persisting to lay your fears to rest. “You’ll have to kill me to stay away from you, (Y/n). I’m yours, whenever and wherever you need, no matter the time of day. I’m staying for you because I love you.”

What a strange thing it is to be in love. But, perhaps in this moment, where you feel so incredibly warm and rich like a healthy fire with plenty of fuel to go on forever, you decide it’s not so bad.

No longer does your heart stay frozen and bitter from years of misuse, but who would’ve guessed that the man who you swore to hate for the rest of your days would be the one to finally melt it down into a blazing fire of emotion?

Far away, miles away from you and Leon, the blizzard that had forced you under the same roof all those weeks ago dissipates, finally satisfied.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil leon #resident evil fic #resident evil x you #leon kennedy fanfic

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crystallizedtwilight · 1 year

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sorry but this lock-barrel-belladonna drama is all i can think about right now

does barrel know how lock feels about it all? does he know whether lock saw the cheek kiss? did lock see the cheek kiss? does shock feel guilty at all for not telling belladonna about lock and barrels ‘thing’? if barrel knew about how insecure lock was about it would he set belladonna straight?? are there any other potential love interests for our gorgeous ghoul??

sorry for the spam questions i have a lot of thoughts and i’m rapidly falling in love with belladonna 😭😭

below the cut!

Does barrel know how lock feels about it all?

Lock insists they’re not anything but friends—no romance, no commitments, no changes to how they’ve always been. Barrel just wants to make him happy, so if this is what Lock says he wants, Barrel respects those boundaries. He knows Lock can get sulky about his friends’ availability but doesn’t actually know if Lock cares for him more than that.

Does he know whether lock saw the cheek kiss?

Barrel doesn’t know for sure, but Lock couldn’t be found at the party after that.

Did lock see the cheek kiss?

Yes. He immediately went home.

Does shock feel guilty at all for not telling belladonna about lock and barrels ‘thing’?

No, Shock was truthful, and their business is not her story to tell. All she knows is what she’s told. Lock has told her that his thing with Barrel isn’t anything but physical and she takes him at his word. She even volleys Belladonna’s question over to Lock to give him the opportunity to correct her if she’s wrong and he doesn’t.

If barrel knew about how insecure lock was about it would he set belladonna straight?

If Lock asked for a committed and monogamous relationship, Barrel would tell everyone he is happily taken and unavailable. As it is, the only thing Barrel knows for sure about their relationships is that Lock insists they don't have one.

Are there any other potential love interests for our gorgeous ghoul?

Belladonna is well-desired but she's looking for that special monster who would fit into her nomadic lifestyle in the human world. She's a confident lady with high standards so her quest continues

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tigreblvnc · 2 months

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BLUE LOCK MATCHUP EXCHANGE — @xokohaneazusawa

Your match is...

— Bachira Meguru

✦ I am certain that Bachira wouldn’t be easily put off by sarcasm; on the contrary, he likes people with a bit of bite! He has a hearty laugh and would surely find your quick wit very amusing.

✦ In fact, he would appreciate every facet of you, the one that is hard to grasp at first glance and the one that is funny and energetic once you get to know it.

✦ Cheerleader duo!!!

✦ Honestly, Bachira is the first to want to join you in your passions, even (and especially) the most unusual ones. He loves trying new approaches, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it even inspired him with new techniques for football.

✦ One of the things you both excel at is being that duo in the middle of a party who doesn’t really get what everyone else is up to but enjoys just being together. I don’t see him particularly liking drinking, smoking, or that sort of thing, so he would probably isolate himself with you because he prefers joking around in your company.

✦ Moreover, he always finds it amusing that you dare to assert your opinions in front of anyone, no matter if it ruffles feathers or causes a bit of chaos. In fact, I think those are his favorite moments: when you speak your truth to someone and shake things up. He’s a bit like that too, so you probably have little squabbles now and then, but things always end with a hug.

✦ He would follow your energy and desires. I can totally see him being the one who helps fire up the room with you, and eventually, everyone ends up following you both.

✦ Bachira shares with you both the moments of high energy and the lazy times when you play video games together without a care.

✦ Actually, I think most people who see you together wonder what could possibly work between you…

✦ … and after a few minutes in your presence, they realize that things couldn’t be any other way.

✦ I like to believe that the INTP/ESFP duo works like a charm for all the complementarities they bring to each other.

✦ Your fashion style intrigues him, and he loves to ask you forty questions about why this piece, where you found that, and if this thing would look good on him too…

✦ Overall, Bachira is interested in what you do in science and learns a lot about people through your extensive knowledge of psychology. Actually, I think it even helps him on the field to understand others, as that’s not particularly his strong suit.

✦ Totally the cuddle man by definition.

✦ Even though he is shown as eccentric and uncontrollable most of the time, we’ve seen that Bachira is also capable of listening and giving very pertinent advice in the most desperate moments. When you’re stuck, he brings that optimistic light that you lack.

✦ Bachira is very socially oriented but also values his freedom; as an introvert, you appreciate that he knows how to respect your independence and your need for solitude when requested. I can even imagine him being able to understand when to leave you alone without you needing to say anything.

A word about your match: I think you two are really cute <3

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock matchups #matchups #bllk x reader #blue lock headcanons #bllk #blue lock matchup #bachira meguru #bachira meguru x reader #bachira x reader #suo matchups

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camthesolemnone · 2 years

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Red Oktoberfest and Swordvan Headcanons: Yandere Mercs

Because I want to gosh dang it.

Red Oktoberfest

If Medic is the yandere:

.He constantly is checking up on Heavy’s physical and emotional health and will go to any length to get the medicine or care he needs.

.That being said, Heavy has been in poor emotional health ever since Medic kidnapped him.

.He truly wants to give Heavy freedom and let him roam the house, but he is also aware of Heavy’s strength and cunning, and knows he could escape easy if he unrestrained him for even a second.

.He hates seeing Heavy mopey all the time so Medic occasionally invites his family over with the conditions being he can’t talk about his situation and he needs to pretend they have an ordinary relationship. If Heavy even dares to try and steal a moment alone with his mother or one of his sisters to tell them the truth...Medic will make sure he never sees them again.

.He studies Heavy’s body often and showers him with praise; his anatomy and strength are what caused Medic to fall in the first place after all.

.Medic is a very violent yandere. Occasionally, Medic will ask Heavy about the people who have wronged him in his life, even if it was just someone who simply insulted him once. He will then mercilessly hunt them down, kidnap them, and bring them back to slaughter in front of Heavy thinking he will be satisfied with their death (when in reality, Heavy would not wish death upon anyone and screams at Medic to let them live).

.Calls Heavy cute pet names in German and uses a high, lovestruck voice only around him. If Medic is not with his Heavy, expect him to essentially growl at you.

If Heavy is the yandere:

.Not much changes at first. Sure Heavy becomes a little extra protective and waits on Medic like his personal servant, but those were already givens.

.Heavy is also a violent yandere but is also good at suppressing his anger/murders. He can kill someone who was flirting with Medic or whom caused a bad interaction and Medic will be none the wiser.

.Does not need to kidnap his lover because Medic already agreed to live with him. He also has little fear of Medic trying to run away, because from Medic’s point of view, he hasn’t done anything to raise any red flags.

.He talks about his obsession with Medic to his sisters for hours on end, to the point where they become concerned for him. They’re happy that he’s happy, but he’s also acting a bit creepy...

.Heavy will quite literally do anything Medic asks of him, even if it defies all common sense or morals, resulting in one time where he murdered their own team’s Spy in cold blood after overhearing Medic murmur “I wish Spy were dead.” (He was exaggerating)

.Medic only realizes how much danger he’s in when he tries to leave the house after he and Heavy get into an argument and Heavy will not let go of him.

.”It is a dangerous world, Doktor. But I can protect you from all of it. Heavy knows what’s best, I promise.”

Swordvan

If Sniper is the yandere:

.Similar to Heavy where he’ll kill anyone who messes with Demoman, but he’s discreet about it. His job already gives him all the tools he needs for a silent hit.

.A little bit awkward and new to romance, and also not as possessive as the others. But he still loves Demo deeply and can’t see himself with anyone else.

.Sniper is more likely to harm himself then Demoman if Demo ever tried to break things off because he refuses to lay a hand on his lover.

.Is in a weird limbo where he simltanueously respects Demo’s boundaries and also crosses them often, mainly if Demoman has fallen into a depressive episode.

.Puts a lot of effort into gifts and dates! Sniper’s not letting all of that mercenary bank go to waste. Demoman nearly cries when Sniper buys him a masterfully crafted, limited edition, Scotland-made sword for his collection from over a hundred years ago.

.They actually have a lot of healthy discussions and Sniper talks about how strongly he feels about Demo. He says that he’s afraid of hurting Demo in so many different ways and readily admits that he has a problem. Demo is slightly disturbed by the news of his obsession, but seeing how open he is about it, he’s willing to stay by his side and get him some help.

.He’ll never admit to Demo that the therapy didn’t work.

If Demo is the yandere:

.Demo doesn’t show his yandere/aggressive side often, but when he does, he becomes something out of a horror film. He’ll tie his victim up, force them to gargle potassium chlorate, and before the poison kills them, he’ll light a match and toss it into their mouth to blow their head off.

.He acts super puppy dog lovey and cuddly around Sniper, and Sniper appreciates the affection after so long of forcing himself to be distant from others.

.Demoman definitely has a shrine of stuff he stole from Sniper or the things he throws away. He hides it in a dresser drawer behind a bunch of beer bottles so nobody goes snooping.

.He’ll spoil Sniper rotten with gifts and words of affirmation. If he finds out a new way to make Sniper blush, he’ll abuse that weak spot for a solid week.

.If he ends up kidnapping Sniper, he’s smart about it and allows Sniper freedom and the lushest lifestyle he can afford so that Sniper doesn’t want to run away. It’s not like he had much of a good relationship with his parents anyway.

.Little does Demo know, Sniper has been harboring all of the fear and hatred deep down and desperately wants to get away.

.Sniper takes advantage of Demo’s softness and the freedom he gave him during an intimate moment to stab him and escape. Demoman cries out with the anger of a beast, but he can’t do anything as he bleeds out onto the ground.

#tf2 #headcanon #red oktoberfest #swordvan #yandere #tf2 heavy #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 demoman

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bisexualwannabewriter · 2 years

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“The Great War” - Part Four, Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Summary : Before Aemond Targaryen was the man he is today, he used to be a young boy, innocent and hopeful enough to fall in love… But the years would not be kind. Not to him, his family, or the one and only love of his life.

In the previous chapter, the tensions between the two factions of House Targaryen have reached an all-time high. Amongst the first casualties : The Lady’s father, who has been dismissed from the Small Council. As a consequence, Aemond and you are separated, despite the all-consuming love you share. We briefly saw the consequences for the One-Eyed Prince...

You can find the previous chapters and all the chapters to come here

Chapter Summary : ... and now, we get to see the consequences for her. Time passes and the Lady gets older, but things do not necessarily get easier.

Leaving Aemond felt like giving up a limb, to Lady y/n. She'd forever leave a part of her with him. A shinier, happier, more beautiful part of her. She didn't even smile the same anymore. She swore, at her young age, that she'd never, ever love again.

She made her father's life difficult for a long time, with little to no regard for what his dismissal from the small council meant for him, her, and their family. It was the beginning of something she had long been smart enough to understand, but she wouldn't focus on anything that wasn't her dear 'husband'. Stupid, stupid girl, she would think, a couple of years older and wiser.

When her father started to spend more and more time on Dragonstone, near Princess Rhaenyra and her family, y/n took it as a personal betrayal. She was only a child still, refusing the see beyond her personal heartbreak, as if the entire world was supposed to stop the day she had lost her one true love. It didn't matter what the truth was, her father had made a mistake that cost her Aemond. End of the story.

When her father brought her with him to see the Princess, she only thought of ways to get to Lucerys and his eyes. She'd take one for sure, perhaps even both of them if she was quick enough. She knew how to use a blade now, thanks to Aemond.

But then, everything got all the more complicated for the Lady y/n.

Lady y/n was an only child. She used to have brothers and sisters, but they all died in infancy. Her mother had died many years ago, giving birth to a boy that lived for a couple of years only. She was starting to forget what her mother looked like. Her father loved to remind her how much she looked like her, so sometimes, she would stare into the mirror for too long, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman she missed so much. She was dreaming that one day, she'd see her features replacing her own. But it was a childish and hopeless dream. Nothing good ever came out of those. When she looked away from the mirror to shift her focus on the view outside her window, her eyes would settle on the moon, and her hand would automatically search for her lover's gift, still faithfully hanging around her neck.

Why couldn't Aemond just write to her ? Had he forgotten about her already ? His ghost was haunting her with every breath she took, not even letting her rest during her sleep.

Regardless of the thoughts torturing the young Lady, her father was treating her with more regards than most fathers did with their daughters, but she never knew whether it was because he actually respected her for who she was, or because she was the only one left. Him bringing his daughter to Dragonstone wasn't a trivial thing. It was meant to be a teaching experience for the years to come.

Later, y/n would realise something fundamental : she had been dragged into this conflict as a child, unknowingly choosing to side with the Blacks as soon as she left the Red Keep. She knew what that meant, but it would take time for her to form her own personal beliefs on the matter. At first, all she could fathom was that if she was with the Blacks, she was against Aemond, and that was just unbearable. She was on his side, always and forever. She swore it.

But spending time on Dragonstone meant spending time with Rhaenyra’s children and later, with Daemon's children as well. And the painful truth was, as hard as it was for her to make her peace with it... : Lucerys was actually a sweet boy. His older brother seemed so much more confident and strong-willed in comparison. Lucerys seemed certain of nothing, and it was difficult to picture him as a malicious child who would hurt anybody on purpose. He was hard to hate. So, on its own accord, her hatred for the child softened day by day. The picture painted in front of her made more and more sense, and little by little, she could finally understand what had truly happened to Aemond. She didn't feel any less sorry for him.

But she didn't want to take Lucerys's eyes out anymore.

If only her father could just take her home. Home to her Prince. She couldn't even speak his name anymore, as she knew it would have been highly inappropriate. So she held on to the memories as if they had been her most valuable possession. She was still clinging to the sound of his voice, whispering sweet nothings to her in High Valyrian. “Ao issi issa ābrazȳrys, sir se va moriot” he would say. You are my wife, now and always.

The wound just wouldn't close...

Part Five is here !

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chaotic-aro-incarnate · 9 months

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10 BL BOYS I WILL THROW HANDS FOR

Was tagged by @scarefox for this (technically my main blog but I post my bl stuff on here lol) and am very excited

I imprint on characters like nobody's business so this is a list made for me

EDIT changed the gifs because apparently the way I did it didn't properly link to the creators (only on desktop at least). should be properly credited now

In no particular order

1) Sound (My School President)

Starting the trend of lonely queer teenagers that I get a little too attached to, it's of course Sound. Like I was already a fan of Sound and intrigued by the concept of SoundWin (at the time people didn't know it was going to be the main secondary ship) but when the medal scene happened and Sound gave this so sad ans soft "oh no" look I was gone. That is my son and I WILL fight anyone and everyone for him

2) Nuengdiao (Never Let Me Go)

Another lonely queer teenager I decided to protect. I loved Never Let Me Go so much and Nueng was my special little babygirl and then Our Skyy 2 came out and it was like oh...... I will kill for him. Look I love Nueng and he did nothing wrong and also that scene where he's forcing Palm to put the gun to his head while screaming at him to shoot him leaves rent free in my mind. He's so traumatized and lonely and he's like 18 I would do anything for him especially throw hands

3) Typhoon (Star in My Mind)

Fun fact! I had to stop watching Star in My Mind because I got so unreasonably attached to Typhoon that I couldn't bear the thought of him not getting a happy ending. I wanted him to end up with Dao so bad because it would make him happy and I knew that if I kept watching they would either break his heart OR show that he's actually not that great of a guy, both which were unbearable to me. So I simply cut my losses and live in the fantasy that he got everything he ever wanted.

4) Bai Lang (My Tooth Your Love)

One of those "he just like me fr fr" characters who I would do anything for. He's my specialist little boy and I love him so dearly. Here's to having your trauma swag bewitch the local hot autistic dentist body and soul.

5) Han Ying (Word of Honor)

Talk about my specialest boy. Ying'er is my guy through and through. He deserved so much better and in every WoH fic I have written (they are all still in drafts) he lives and is happy no matter what. He IS my sweet cheese, my rotten solider, my good time boy. I will continue writing him getting railed to the high heavens by Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing like he deserves. He is incapable of being anything other but the goodest boy possible and I will die on this hill

6) Boston (Only Friends)

He is the worst. I would move mountains for him. Enough said.

7) Pluem (Ghost Host Ghost House)

Look this man has been going through it AND he manages to be the like the most flirtatious and romantic guy around? Give me your secrets sir. Also say the word king and I'll do it. This show broke me on so many levels but a lot of those levels were tied to anytime I saw him break down

8) Ye Huo/Fire (Guardian)

A recent (and somewhat obscure) pull as I am currently watching Guardian and was just exposed to his character today but he is my guy and I will defend him to the death. The only weaker point for me than a lonely gay teenager is a self appointed older sibling who sacrifices everything for their younger siblings. I was really like man this guy is an asshole for so long but then the truth of how he was saving the boys at the fighting ring came out and I was like oh no that's my son now and I need him to live and be happy. I have not finished his arc yet so I am scared that it'll be a tragedy BUT he is my wonderful son all the same and I will throw hands for him in an instant

9) That (Manner of Death)

The return of troubled teenagers I need to adopt and protect against all costs. I WILL fight anyone for him even though he's like a rebellious teenager who does crime and I am a strange looking college student who he would not respect but it's the thought that counts

10) Mark/Village Head Ma (Love Tractor)

Why is there a random white man living in rural South Korea? I don't know!!! They never address what he's doing there. But I literally love this man. There's a reason I made him to be my pfp for bl-bracket. Seriously he's the best and I will fight anyone who says otherwise. Best character ever written. In my heart he's got the spirit of Quincey Morris form Dracula in the long tradition of just having a random American man in your story with no explanation

Tagging others!!!!! @saturnskyline @non-binarypal7 @supernovasimplicity @vegussy and anyoen else who wants to!!

There's been so many of these types of challenges/tag things lately that I have not kept track of who has or hasn't done which ones so sorry if you've already done something similar

#fun fact when looking up gifs i kept running into polls for bl bracket #and getting annoyed for filling up the search results #and then remembering that's me lmao

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angeltreasure · 1 year

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Hey I’m coming here and saying this because I’m desperate and I no longer care that I probably sound disgusting, embarrassing and like I do not know what the heck I’m doing because I really don’t. I’m just in desperate need of prayer and support rn

I have such a bad rep of making terrible decisions and I recently (not something I’m proud of) have come away from the church quite a bit and not really been trusting God. I’ve been quite depressed if I’m being honest and had multiple people in my life really making things quite difficult for me, so I’ve just found myself not talking to anyone about how things have really been.

Now that that’s out. I had a relationship break down around Christmas time and it was a really unhealthy one so I’m glad it did. I think the way I have and still am processing it is not good though as a guy I used to like and still am very attracted to (but literally pretty much JUST attraction) told me he liked me. We had this on/ off thing and nothing went too far and he basically left me in the city alone last week whilst he got drunk and probably high with his friends. I still didn’t care though which shows my lack of self respect right now… and then his friend told me he has trust issues and doesn’t want something serious. Because this is purely lust for me, I think I’ve been desperate to just be around him and last night his mate invited me out to this club tonight cause’ he’s gonna be there and basically said I can give him a bday treat but basically that he just wants sex. I am actually that unhinged right now that I want to go and my own friend who has never been a believer wants to go so it’s almost an excuse for me now but I have enough sanity left to tell myself I wouldn’t actually sleep with this dude but I also do not even trust myself and UGH I know I just typed out so so much and most of it is just disgusting and just honestly a truthful piece of what’s been happening in my life lately. Please offer some sane advice or prayer idk what to do anymore

I think when we get overwhelmed it’s important to first step back. Grab a piece a paper and pen. Then, write down in bullet points what you told me like

- I haven’t been trusting in God

- I’m away from the church

- family and some friends are making it difficult for me

- I just got out of a bad relationship not too long ago

- I’m so desperate to feel anything I’m consider the birthday gift to a guy who doesn’t even like me for who I am but just wants me in lust

Now we can go through those things together. You just got out of a bad relationship. I’m so glad you did because you wouldn’t have been safe if you stayed in that one, probably. I know breaking up hurts and we want to feel loved again, because I know that feeling.

Now look at the rest, family and some friends are making it difficult. You have to ask the why’s to that, and also remember to have any relationship build you need two way communication not one sided. You build trust slowly but communication is key. Falling for some guy just for his looks a quick pleasure isn’t going to satisfy you. That’s not love at all. To love, as St. Thomas Aquinas says, is to will the good of the other. Peace starts in our world when we bring peace at our own home. Instead of wandering, come back to your family and good friends. Tell them all you’re going through. You have to spiral out alone. If they are good family and good friends they will help you.

I know it hurts in your chest, all that pain you have gone through. I know you feel a disconnect with God. The only thing that can fill the void you feel in your heart right now is God. Don’t go to that party. Come to to Mass. come sit in the back pew. You don’t have to talk with anyone, you don’t need to know all the prayers or understanding the readings to their full. God knows exactly what you need right now and He is love and mercy itself. Please come to Mass. God loves and I love you. I’ll keep you in my prayers.

Have you read the story of the Prodigal Son? I think you can connect to it so much. Read it. Take a moment to be alone to read it.

#asks #prayer request

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levisblackbabe · 3 years

Text

Headcanons of Aot boys with a black gf

Characters: Eren Jeager , Armin Arlert, Levi Ackerman, Connie Springer and Jean Kirstein x fem black reader (separate)

Genre: Mostly fluff, slight angst, deffo crack, (everyone is +18)

Warnings: Language, a bit toxic, slightly suggestive

Wc: 1500+ (Each character is about 300-400 words)

Eren Jeager (The lowkey Toxic one)

· Lowkey scared of y/n because she reminds him of Levi when she is angry, and he knows she will beat his ass if necessary

· Started out as friends but he has always liked y/n

· He initially asked you out as a dare and you only found out after 6 weeks where you broke up 😐

· This legit started the cycle of breaking and getting back together (he never cheated though just a lil bit toxic)

· He is very possessive and controlling which also lead to your break ups

· Even though you have your ups and down he is mostly a good boyfriend

· He plays basketball so every time he is practising on his own, he asks you to be there for rebounds (in reality he just wants you near him baso 24/7)

· Loves your smell so he steals those items might be your lotion, hair products or perfume

· Loves your natural hair and just touches it without permission after a couple times you just gave up telling him off

· He was confused on why you changed your hair so often

· When you guys first started dating you came with box braids rather then your usual bun and he deadass thought you were somebody else 💀he was so confused on why this stranger was touching him up (this mf loyal cuz he was ready to punch you)

· He was soooo scared of meeting your parents (had to call Armin to ask for advice)

· Your family at first didn’t like him cuz of the constant breaking up but they grew to tolerate him (however your older brother doesn’t)

· Loves taking pictures of you during facetime, golden hour or whenever and saves them in a folder (simp)

· Loves your cooking soo much that he goes collect tubber ware of food worth a week and stocks up his fridge

· He loves when you speak to him in another language so he pisses you off so you can cuss him out in your native tongue

· He barely calls your name its either babe or some cringey name like bubbs or something (however if you hear your full name leave his month rip)

Armin Artlet (The simp)

· SHY BAE that’s it

· He was your English tutor and has always had a crush on you

· He wanted to ask you out on a date, but he shy and thought you won’t like white boys

· You asked him instead cuz you fell for his ocean blue eyes (I mean who wouldn’t)

· In the beginning you had to take the initiative a lot cuz he wanted to respect your boundaries but after a while he grew comfortable and took the lead

· He LOVES your natural hair and knows your wash day schedule, so he always offers to help anyway possible

· He was absolutely scared of meeting your family cuz once again he white 😐 however everyone loved him

· He most definitely invited to the family reunion

· Your aunts adore him and they always talking about you as a baby to him

· He always doing late night ft calls with you, and he WON’T hang up cuz he wants to see your face when you wake up

· Armin is a giver, so he always offers to buy thigs for your and just buy gifts at least once a week

· He also loves cooking for and with you (once you had a cooking competition and technically, he is a better cook, but he let you win)

· He likes sending random pictures of things you like and remind him of you

· He happily takes pictures of you (photographer Armin)

· You guys have a pet turtle called Mickey 🐢

· His nicknames for you are beautiful, pretty and stuff like that

· Just overall fluff

Levi Ackerman (the co-worker)

· You guys have been co-workers for 2 years actually

· You thought he hated you but in reality, he does he just acts stingy towards cuz he is Levi 😐 (some serious enemies to lovers vibe)

· He didn’t confess and never would have but due to a drunken Hange letting it slip during a hang out with your co-workers you found out

· He deadass ignored you for a week like if he saw you, he would turn into Houdini and disappear

· However, you once caught him distracted and forced him to talk to you

· Reluctantly so he spoke the truth and asked you out (thought he seemed angry about it)

· Now you guys have happily been dating

· Everyone in your office finds you lucky cuz Levi is the finest man in the office heck the world (if he was real, I would leave my bf 😭)

· He actually has a 5-year-old daughter (DILF! Levi) and told you why he never said anything about his feeling was because you know single dad and shiz

· After 6 weeks you met his babygirl and she is the cutest she loves you considering she never had much of a mother figure in her life

· His daughter is mixed so he knows how to deal with natural hair thanks to YouTube, so he sometimes helps with yours (such a good dad)

· But now that you are here you offer to do any protective styles and give him tips

· Levi isn’t very open, but he expresses his love to you with physical touch, acts of service or gifts

· However, he speaks very softly to his daughter he seems different

· Due to his love language being touch he loves petting your hair (only when you have protective styles) and putting his head on it ( he is tall in my head okay)

· He loves having you in close proximity to you and just somehow touching you

· Him and your dad really hit it off because they both have daughters

· Your aunts are lowkey infatuated with him

· Loves making breakfast for you but due to your busy schedule he just buys your coffee in the morning

· He will never tell you, but he has trouble falling asleep but when you sleepover he actually has a full nights rest (he has silk sheets just for you)

· He might seem closed off, but you know he loves you due to the little things

Connie Springer (the bestfriend)

a/n I just want to say Connie will be of Hispanic heritage for the sake of this headcanon also because all the fanfics I read about him he is portrayed as Hispanic I just write him like this however this isn’t to offend anyone or play onto stereotypes.

· You guys have been besties since freshman year high school

· You hooked up freshman year of college and been dating ever since

· Nothing really changed in your dynamic other than the fact yall kiss and do the deed

· Like you legit call each other insults though Connie likes calling slime and bubbs

· You jokingly calling each other baby mama and baby daddy (manifesting kids but whatever)

· Speaking of kids, you have plushies that you call kids and rotate them around (they are from your arcade date)

· Loves being on call with you when he is playing because it helps calm him down and not break his tv (anger issues much)

· HYPEMAN if you are looking fine asf he will hype you up so much and offer to take pictures for the gram

· You have a joint TikTok account where you reaching 10k and just do dumb couple stuff its cringey but cute (Same goes for your joint spam account where you guys just do silly things together)

· He always asks to do your hair which you repetitively deny keeping in mind last time you let him he nearly ripped off half your scalp

· Late nights drives happen a lot so you can vent and have a heart to heart under the stars, you guys also just vibe to the music and might spend hours in silence looking at the city lights and dancing

· If you fall asleep on him or in the drive back he becomes really cute and soft and just says you are beautiful and that he loves you in Spanish (ugh my heart)

· He only speaks Spanish when he wants to be cute and knows you won’t understand

· Your family have always liked him so when you guys started dating everyone was like ‘FINALLY’ (same with his family)

· Some type of kid’s movie marathon once a month cuz being a child is great

· Its just overall jokes

Jean Kirstein (Mr Doesn’t Give Up)

· Kept asking you out for a year until you gave in, he was so excited he kissed you straightaway

· He was so nervous in your first date, but he was a gentleman opening doors etc (whoever said chivalry was dead 🤨)

· Nearly said I love you on the first date considering he has liked you for a year, but he held it in

· However, he did get a kiss goodnight on the cheek (he was grinning like a fool)

· Loves the fact that you change your hair so much and so often that he happily gives recommendations and offers to help you out

· He is the overprotective type of boyfriend so he was reluctant on you meeting his friends especially Eren, but you reassured him that you wouldn’t be swayed (still icky about you hanging with Eren though)

· He adores playing pc games with you and you have a little family in Sims4 which is cute

· He now has a skincare routine because you introduced him to it (he said he didn’t need one cuz he has a ‘handsome face’ but he secretly started one lol

· He also steals your body lotion and legit smells like you (smh)

· His wrist always has a silk crunchie in case you need it, and, in his car, he has a bag with essentials for you such as pads, edge control, etc

· He calls you cute pet names but also the occasional insults as a joke

· He is lowkey rich, so he happily spoils you to fancy dinners and more

· He also likes going back to the basics so picnic dates in the spring and summer are common he says he cooks them but in reality, it’s his mum

· Your mum absolutely adores him cuz he is a ‘charmer’

· He likes facetiming you when he is working out so he can show up, but you just ignore him and continue doing what you are doing

· Like Eren he has a folder filled of mugs of you

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#eren yeager x black reader #jean x black!reader #eren yaeger x reader #armin x black reader #connie x black reader #levi x black reader #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #aot imagines #eren jaeger #levi ackerman #angst prompts🥀#fluff prompts 🍄#levisbae 💅🏽

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janecrockeyre · 3 years

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scum villain is a greek tragedy disguised as a regular tragedy disguised as a comedy disguised as a danmei

this is going to be long, and this is only PART ONE.

a.k.a, Analysing the plot of Scum Villain’s Self Saving System through Aristotle’s Poetics, because I Have Mental Issues

Part One: Introduction and the Tragic Hero

Scum Villain’s Self Saving System is a tragedy disguised as a comedy, unless you’re Shen Yuan, in which case it’s a mixture of a romance and a survival horror. It's a fever dream. It's a horrible, terrible book that made me feel new undiscovered emotions when I finished reading it.

The thing is... SVSSS shares characteristics with some of the most famous tragedies in the West, such as Oedipus Rex, Medea, Antigone, the Oresteia... if you haven’t read these, I’ll explain everything. But the gist of my argument is this: SVSSS is the perfect tragedy. In triplicate.

Tragedy as a genre is old as balls and so it has meant slightly different things to different people over the last few thousand years. I'll be focusing on ancient Greek tragedy, which was performed at the yearly Festival of Dionysus in Athens during the 500-350s BC (give or take a hundred years). Aristotle, when writing about this very specific subset of tragedy, had no idea that one day Scum Villain would be written, and then that I would be using his work as a way to look at Shen Qingqiu’s Funky Transmigration Mistake. Anyway!

Greek tragedy greatly influenced European dramatic tradition. I have a lot of opinions about white academics idolising and upholding the classics as the "paragon of culture" but I'll withhold them for now. I have no idea if MXTX has read Greek tragedy or not, so don't take this as me saying they are writing it.

In my opinion, tragedy is a universal human constant. We are surrounded by pain and hurt and none of it makes any sense, so we seek to process that pain through drama, art, literature, etc. We want to understand why pain happens, and how it happens, and try to make sense of the senseless. The universe is cold and cruel and random. Tragedy eases some of that pain.

On that note: Just because I am analysing Scum Villain through a Greek lens doesn't mean that it was written that way. I'm pasting an interpretation onto the book when there's probably a very rich and deep history of Chinese tragedy that I just don't know about. If you ever want to talk about that, please, god, hit me up, I would love to learn about it!!

Anyway, tragedy. MXTX is excellent at it! Mo Dao Zu Shi? Painful dynastic family tragedy. Heaven Official's Blessing? Mostly romance, but she managed to get that pure pain in there, huh?

But in my opinion, Scum Villain holds the crown for the most tragic of her stories. MDZS was more of a mystery. TGCF was more of a romance. Neither of them shy away from their tragic elements.

Scum Villain would fit right in between the work of Sophocles, Euripides and Aeschylus. How? Let me show you. Join me on my mystery tour into the world of "Aristotle Analyses Danmei..."

Part One: The Tragic Hero

What is a tragic hero? Generally, Greek tragic heroes are united by the same key characteristics. He must be imperfect, having a "fatal flaw" of some kind. He must have something to lose. And he must go from fortune to misfortune thanks to that fatal flaw.

There are two (technically three) tragic protagonists in SVSSS and all of them are tragic in different but formulaic ways. Each protagonist has their own version of “hamartia” or a “fatal flaw”.

Actually, hamartia isn’t necessarily a flaw - rather, it is a thing which makes the audience pity and fear for them, a careful imperfection, a point of weakness in the character’s morality or reasoning that allows for bad things to happen to them. For example, in Oedipus Rex, the king Oedipus has a “fatal flaw” of always wanting to find the truth, but this isn’t exactly a flaw, right? Note: this flaw can be completely unwitting, as we see with Shen Yuan. It can also be something that the protagonist is born with, some kind of trait from birth or very young.

Shen Yuan

Shen Yuan’s “hamartia” is his rigid adherence to fate and his inability to read a situation as anything but how he thinks it ought to be. He believes that Bingmei will grow into Bingge, and it takes several years, two deaths, and some truly traumatising sex to convince him otherwise.

Shen Jiu

Shen Jiu’s fatal flaw is his cruelty. It is his own sadistic treatment and abuse of Binghe which directly leads to his eventual dismemberment. This is kind of a no-brainer. Of course, it isn't all that simple, and as an audience we pity him for his cruelty as much as we fear it because we know it comes from his own abuse as a child. This just makes him even more tragic. Delicious.

Luo Binghe

Luo Binghe’s fatal flaw is a complicated mix of things. It is his position as the “protagonist” which compels him to act in certain ways and be forced to suffer. It is his half-demonic heritage, something entirely out of his control, which sets in motion his tragic reversal of fortune when he gets yeeted into the Abyss. He also, much like Shen Yuan, has the propensity to jump to conclusions and somehow make 2 + 2 = 5.

As well as having their respective “flaws”, all three protagonists match the rough outline of a good tragic hero in another way: they are in a position of great wealth and power. Even when you split the different characters into different “versions”, this still holds true. Yes, Luo Binghe is raised a commoner by a washerwoman foster mother, but his dad is an emperor and he also ends up becoming an emperor himself.

Yes, Shen Jiu is an ex-slave and a victim of abuse himself, but Shen Qingqiu is a powerful peak lord with an entire mountain’s worth of resources at his back.

Shen Yuan is a second generation new money rich kid.

Bingge is a stereotypical protagonist with a golden finger. Bingmei is a treasured and loved disciple with a good reputation and a privileged seat by his shizun’s side.

In a tragedy, having this kind of good fortune at the beginning of your story is dangerous. Chaucer says that tragedy is (badly translated into modern english) “a certain story / of him that stood in great prosperity / and falls out of high degree / into misery, and ends up wretchedly”. If we follow this line of thinking, a good tragedy is about someone who has a lot to lose, losing everything because of one fatal point of weakness that they fail to address or understand.

If we look at Shakespeare, this is what makes King Lear such a fantastic tragic protagonist. He is a king in control of most of England, who from his own lack of wisdom and excess of pride, decides to split his kingdom apart to give to his daughters, favouring his murderous, double crossing progeny, and condemning his only actually filial daughter to death. He loses his kingdom, his mind, and his beloved daughter, all because of his own stupidity.

This brings us to:

Part Two: Peripeteia

This reversal of fortunes is called peripeteia. It is the moment where the entire plot shifts, and the hero’s fortunes go from good to bad. Think of it like one of those magic eye puzzles, where you stare at the image until a 3D shark appears, except you realise the shark was always there, you just couldn't ever see it, waiting for you, hungry, deadly, always lurking just behind that delightful pattern of random blue squiggles.

Each tragic hero has their own moment of peripeteia in SVSSS, sometimes several:

Shen Qingqiu

In the original PIDW, SQQ’s peripeteia presumably occurs when he finds out that Bingge didn’t perish in the Abyss but has actually been training hard to come and pay him back. There’s really not much I’m interested in saying here - as a villain, OG!SQQ is cut and dry, and the audience doesn’t really feel any pity or fear for him. As Shen Yuan often mentions, what the audience feels when they see OG!SQQ is bloodlust and sick satisfaction. There is also the trial at Huan Hua Palace, which I will talk about in Shen Yuan’s section.

Shen Yuan (SQQ 2.0)

One of SY’s most poggers moment of peripeteia is the glorious, terrifying section between hearing Binghe for the first time after the Abyss moment, and getting shoved into the Water Prison.

“Behind him, a low and soft voice came: “Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu’s neck felt stiff as he slowly turned his head. Luo Binghe’s face was the most frightening thing he had ever seen.

The scariest thing about it was that the expression on his face was not cold at all. His smile wasn’t sharp like a knife. Rather, it showed a kind of bone-deep gentleness and amiability.”

This is the moment of true horror for Shen Yuan, because he knows what happens next: the plot unfurls before him, inevitable and painful, and he knows that death awaits him at Luo Binghe's hands (lol). Compare it with the bone deep certainty with which he faces his own downfall during the sham of a trial later in the chapter (I’ve bolded the important part):

“In the original work, Qiu Haitang’s appearance signified only one thing: Shen Qingqiu’s complete fall from grace. [...] Shen Qingqiu’s heart streamed with tears. Great Master… I know you’re doing this for my own good, but I’ll actually suffer if she speaks her words clearly. This truly is the saying “not frightened of doing a shameful deed, just afraid the ghost (consequences) will come knocking”!”

After the peripeteia is usually the denouement where the plot wraps up and the threads are all tied together leaving no loose ends, but because this tragedy isn’t Shen Yuan’s but the former Shen Jiu’s, it’s impossible to finish.

Shen Yuan cannot provide the meaningful answers that the narrative demands because 1) he doesn’t have any memory of doing anything, and 2) he wasn’t the person who did them. Narratively, he cannot follow the same path as the former SQQ because he lacks the same fatal flaw: cruelty.

This is why Binghe doesn’t kill him - because he loves him, rather than despises him. And this is why Shen Yuan has to sacrifice himself and die for Luo Binghe in order to save him from Xin Mo: because the narrative demands that denouement follows peripeteia, and SQQ’s fate is in the hands of the narrative.

(Side note: I believe that this literal death also represents the death of OG!SQQ's tragic arc. The body that committed all those crimes must die to satisfy the narrative. SQQ must die, like burning down a forest, so that new growth can sprout from the ashes. After this, Shen Yuan's story has more room to develop instead.)

It must happen to show Bingmei that SQQ loves him too. And this brings us to Bingmei.

Bingmei

Bingmei has two succinct moments of utter downfall. The first is a literal fall - his flaw, his demonic heritage, leads his beloved shizun to throw him down into the Abyss. From his point of view, SQQ is punishing him simply for the status of his birth. He rapidly goes from being loved and cherished unconditionally, to being the victim of an assassination attempt.

He realises that he is totally unlovable: that for the crimes of his species that he never had a hand in, he must pay the price as well: that his shizun is so righteous that no matter what love there was between them, if SQQ sees a demon, he will kill it. Even if that demon is Bingmei.

The second moment is when SQQ dies for him. Again, from his point of view, he was chasing after a man who was struggling to see him as a human being. Shen Qingqiu’s death makes Bingmei realise that he has been completely misunderstanding his shizun: that SQQ would literally die for him, the ultimate act of self sacrifice from love: that SQQ loved him despite his demon heritage.

Much like King Lear holding the corpse of his daughter and wailing in sheer grief and pain because he did this, he caused this, Bingmei gets to hold his shizun's cold body and cry his eyes out and know that it was his fault. (Kind of.)

(Yes, I’m bringing Shakespeare into this, no I am not justifying myself)

Maybe I'm a bit sadistic, but that scene slaps. Let me show you a comparison of scenes so you get the picture.

Re-enter KING LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms; EDGAR, Captain, and others following

KING LEAR

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones:

Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so

That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever!

I know when one is dead, and when one lives;

She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass;

If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,

Why, then she lives.

[...]

KING LEAR

And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,

And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,

Never, never, never, never, never!

Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir.

Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,

Look there, look there!

Dies

Versus this scene in SVSSS:

Luo Binghe turned a deaf ear to everything else, greatly agitated and at a loss of what to do. He was still holding Shen Qingqiu’s body, which was rapidly cooling down. It seemed like he wanted to call for him loudly and forcefully shake him awake, yet he didn’t dare to, as if he was afraid of being scolded. He said slowly, “Shizun?”

[...]

Luo Binghe involuntarily held Shen Qingqiu closer.

He said in a small voice, “I was wrong, Shizun, I really… know that I was wrong.

“I… I didn’t want to kill you…”

PAIN. SO MUCH BEAUTIFUL PAIN. Yes, I know Shakespeare isn’t Athenian, but he was inspired by the good old stuff and he also knew how to write a perfect tragedy on his own terms. Anyway. I’ll find more Greek examples later.

This post was a bit all over the place, but I hope it has been fun to read. Part Two will be coming At Some Point, Who Knows When. This is a bit messy and unedited, but hey, I’m not getting paid or graded, so you can eat any typos or errors. Unless you’re here to talk to me about Chinese tragedy, in which case, please pull up a seat, let me get you a drink, make yourself at home.

ps: if you want to retweet this, here is the promo tweet!

#svsss #scum villain #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #greek tragedy #hello followers this account has been silent for a long time but today i bring you whatever this is #long post #i am gonna cross post more art here from my twitter i think #you guys really like my shitposts on here

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sugar-petals · 3 years

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♡ physical affection; levi

↳ NOTE. characterizing boyfriend levi, my passion project lmao! with some sexy moments included 👀

WORDS. ⇢ 7k

tags / warnings. ⚠️ smut, fluff, soft sub!levi x female reader, hurt/comfort hc, angst, shower sex, blowjobs + handjobs + boobjobs (yep. spoiling the captain), face-sitting, protected sex, soap kink, season 3-4 setting, no manga spoilers

Ready for a surprise? It’s not really about what kind of skinship he’s extremely selective about and what not. This is only something people would perceive about him at first glance. Instead, it comes down to how emotionally sheltered he feels. Because of his experiences, that predicates everything else. Which is why Levi’s sexuality is as complex as it is.

But also, in its sudden perfect expression once a person gives him a different perspective: That’s the time when he is touchier. The more in private, the better. The lights down low, with only a candle or two shining from another room. Broad daylight brings the harsh truths and the shaking ground. Nighttime is when Levi feels more intimate and open to caress, down his back and arms, the shoulders, the side of his neck. Done with extreme gentleness, and all of your deep respect.

If you offer him an environment of trust, Levi is open to almost anything and would even magically doze off in your arms for a little while. Breathing softly, resting for the first time in weeks, the brows becoming less tense the deeper he sleeps. You asking if you can stroke his hair (carefully, not messing it up or anything) is something he can’t say no to. The closet romantic in him will fulfill you any reasonable wish as soon as you’d ask anyway.

We know how receptive the captain is to a request, and how much there can be a soft spot for somebody in his heart. If you’re forward enough to just ask, Levi sets himself that goal and opens up. He is diligent with it just as you’d expect. That especially includes the things he says are „absolute horseshit nonsense“ and „disgusting, useless activities“ when reacting to newly formed couples kissing in the survey corps at the other end of the room. Is he a hypocrite and a hater? Actually— not at all.

Levi is a raised rather than born skeptic. Between courage and care, he is always gonna be torn. Both didn’t work in his favor at some point. But at the end of the day, he fears recklessness more than being cautious. Looking at these couples, he knows that they could lose each other the very next day. Or hell, the next hour. Not everybody has 200 titan kills.

Not everybody is a physically indestructible Ackerman destined and designed to escape death and outlive others whether they want it or not. And showing themselves this vulnerable out in the open is even more dangerous considering all the political intrigues, chaos, attacks, and espionage going on.

When he’s scoffing at skinship in the survey corps, it’s not his intent to ruin the couples and their little happiness in the present moment (nothing he sees as more tragically precious), or say only he can have a relationship because he’s strong enough to make it survive. If anything, Levi is the prime example of how all his connections were doomed exactly because of his status pulling in all the danger. He very well and painfully knows.

What I mean is: He sees the brutality of consequences that can create more misery than if two people would just go about their business. Levi already dreads that the same might happen to him. But after all, the behavior of others is easier to rectify than his own undeniable feelings for you. Which he cannot control in any way, which is why he reacts to others instead. Looking at other people holding hands, he’s also afraid how dabbling in love is a distraction from threats that can even backfire on uninvolved others if someone is suddenly in harm’s way.

Levi does associate physical touch with something that takes an otherwise observing mind off when it shouldn’t be. To him, it creates something so valuable that can become an unintended burden through all kinds of circumstances, he’s seen it all, it’s terrible he had to. And the reason why he has such a torn relationship with it. You really have to know your stuff to build a resilient little bubble where Levi is not constantly hypervigilant and either past- or future-focused.

Which is pretty damn hardwired into him. It’s almost impossible to bring on that kind of atmosphere spontaneously. It has to be ritualized. His intelligence comes with the downside of overthinking and having problems with spontaneous romance, it’s good to direct his thought into something that’s always done in a specific, structured way. You sit down with tea, put the candles on, Levi finishes cleaning his weapons, makes everything combat-ready and usable in seconds, and you carefully lay down on his impeccably made bed together.

Which he never uses, Levi sleeps in chairs. Or on the ground, so he can feel any titan steps in the distance with his whole body, using the cleanest possible mat or towel as a mattress and nothing else. The bed he basically just makes to have it neat, and for you, and to have a spot to lay together.

But yeah. He will never remove his harness. Not even when you’re sleeping with each other. He’s not once gonna risk having to put it on in a hurry. The only time you will be skin to skin with him is for not even five minutes under the shower. It’s when his cleanliness beats his anxiety around being always ready, which is why that’s a time to fully cherish.

And then, he really has no qualms about you wrapping your hands around his soap-covered torso in the shower anyway. It’s the only time his inner default germaphobe is not vehemently screaming inside his already heavy heart. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, this is about his demons only, confronted with the immense relief you give him. If the latter wins over his mind’s struggle, Levi might draw out the shower time sometimes.

The other voice that tells him ‚don’t make it end so soon’ is now finally convincing him. He will dial down the water stream so he can hear what’s going on outside better to compensate, to know if there’s any ruckus or approaching hazards. Levi has instructed a fast runner among the cadets to bang on the front door under any critical circumstances immediately in the first place.

Levi says he wants to save water, too. He won’t admit it, but he also turns the showerhead to a medium pressure to hear your calm, almost-quiet moans — the barracks have terribly thin walls — better when you’re sucking him off. Slowly, smoothly, not too much spit. Folded towel under your knees because Levi insists, and he is right. The showers in the survey corps have uncomfortable floor tiles.

He makes sure you won’t get soap in your mouth as well, I don’t have to tell you that he is very circumspect. Levi isn’t usually feeling overly heated in moments like this, but he gets hard and releases fast. You swear his cum tastes like afternoon tea with milk but you won’t tell him that. And who doesn’t like tea and Levi’s homemade milk, no complaints alright.

What’s still a shame is that Levi, always being in such a constant hurry and alertness, puts too much stress on his body for him to become horny all the way. In fact, he often forgets it. He feels numb, and can’t fully take in the sensations. Levi has not been able to feel a lot of genuine pleasure in his life.

A racing mind is an absolute sex killer, and his adrenaline spikes are so high in combat that most normal things don’t do anything for him. Which is why he brews his tea extra strong. But seriously: It’s a concerning thing. And it tells you to take your time. With his whole body, doing the things he loves the most. And what else could that be? It’s straightforward: Keepin’ it clean.

You make sure that Levi feels extra comfortable by thoroughly massaging his loins and thighs with a sponge during foreplay. Yes, you’re gently working him up. All in circles and light brushing motions. Lots of soap. Suave and bubbly, like silk on his skin. It’s handmade, with oat milk, lavender, and honey. For your honey. You regularly gift a new one to him to try out scents and have supply. You can guess how much Levi appreciates it, to the moon and back in fact. The present box is neatly stored on his office table where he can always see it.

Sending out its balmy fragrance throughout the day, making the room smell amazingly aromatic to him. His nose will never grow tired or accustomed to it. Levi puts the soapbox in a drawer within literal split seconds when someone who isn’t you enters the room. „Tsk, announce yourself when you knock…“ That could even be the newest recruit who doesn’t know anything at all about the place and people. But this is just a you and him thing.

Levi doesn’t want nosy questions from the squad even though nobody would probably even notice the soap laying there in its case, much less ask him about it or the fresh scent in the air because duh, it’s Levi’s office. But it feels absolutely personal for him — so he reacts sensitively about it. This man would probably protect your lavender soap with his blades if he had to.

The captain is very secretive about your relationship in general. Who on earth would go as far as buy him a new scented bar of joy bi-weekly? At this point, he would crawl on hot coals, needles, lava, ice shards, desert sand, and a mile-long straight of legos (laid out by a maniacally laughing Zeke personally) for you.

Although you wouldn’t allow any of it. Nothing should ever hurt those kitty paws, I mean captain hands and captain feet. You’d put Zeke on blast on your own, luring him with a banana to confuse his senses and then, whack, homerun the monkey into the ocean with Levi’s bristle broom. Problem solved. Anyway.

Levi wouldn’t hurt himself willingly that way either, the ice shards don’t stand a chance. He has sworn to protect his own life out of self-respect, to honor those passed by living on bravely toward the goal they worked for and being the one always coming home to you. You can rely on him.

So enough about gleaming hot coals and Zeke’s evil legos, back to the point — you already get what I mean. Levi might seem totally grumpy on the outside, but for sure is a devoted man, a caliber as always. He takes all of your presents to heart and is unbelieving as to why he’d be deserving of so much. You prove a point using the gifts as regularly as possible on his body. Where he can feel every bit of your fondness of him. And remember it with muscle memory. Oh shit, this soap does smell so good. As anything on him, who are we kidding.

Dousing Levi with all your attention is the best thing ever. He feels great relaxing with you, and his face softens up. He’s looking at you with a tiny smile in response to you whispering sweet things to him, all while you’re using the sponge on his legs, the chest, and ever-tense back that can definitely use some alleviation. „Thank you for cleaning me“ has got to be the best thing ever to hear from Levi Ackerman. It means the entire world to him. Captain, your mommy kink is showing. His arousal increasing is a natural side effect in no time.

Recently, you’ve been slipping his cock between your breasts as well, and it’s been slowing him down a lot after an eventful mission. While at the same time making him more in the moment, he really enjoys you gradually lathering him up like that. The feeling of skin on skin is amazing. It might be something that… often crosses his mind when he trains during the day, but he can blend it out for the important things. Until you do it all over again, and he ruminates about how much you turn him on until the sun rises.

You also never do a blowjob hands-free. Why would you, anyway? His body is amazingly buff and compact, you want to hold onto those gorgeous lil’ hips and his own hands that need a fair share of holding after carrying the world. You feel him twitching on your tongue when you run either hand over his ass and abs, making sure to trace across all his most erogenous spots there. What’s more: Levi feels really protected and soothed when he feels your palms on him under the streaming water, he can’t explain it.

That's why you like doing shower handjobs just as much. I don’t have to tell you that Levi really delights in them as well and his poker face regularly cracks a bit. His eyes fixate on you, you can tell the connection and involvement. He thinks your fingertips are heavenly, a welcome change to his rugged days.

He loves how softly they tease and stimulate him with the smallest movements and subtle presses. Yes, Levi doesn’t like rough action, those are vulnerable moments. He has enough brutality elsewhere, violently jerking him off and insulting him would be entirely inappropriate and even scare him.

He’d probably brush your wrists off right away, it’d be so uncomfortable in the silence of the evening. A tender chain of kisses on the nose tip, chin, collar bone, and especially forehead gets him going a lot more. The more chaste and doting the kiss, the more he melts on the inside.

His anxiety baseline goes down, and he feels like he can let you in. However you guide him and however you choose to indulge him with your lips, Levi is on board, quietly enjoying. Since it’s something that he’s still feeling so new to, leaving you the active role comes naturally.

Stroking him with a deep pace, carefully brushing your lips against his to give him goosebumps — Levi definitely grows into that. In those moments, he really feels taken care of, in safe hands, hands that will stay with him. He’s gonna be surprised just how good something like this feels many times. And be overwhelmed by pleasure to the point where it almost frightens him, he didn’t have that a lot until now.

The satisfaction of a spotless table simply does not compare. Just so you know: He will either be dead silent or mumble under his breath nonstop. That he is okay with you touching him below the belt and even take him in your mouth tells you how much Levi trusts you, how much he knows you love him, and how meticulously he’s already scrubbed and shaved himself beforehand. Yes, the sheer preparation. He puts a lot of work into his body. He couldn’t stand you becoming dirty.

That’s also why the shower is the place oral goes down. And even there, he uses like ten cleaning products to double rinse the stall and himself before and after. Mind you. He sees you eating healthy, brushing your teeth well. Your lips are very beautiful and a masterpiece of nature to him. So it’s not you who he thinks is dirty. Levi is pretty damn paranoid about his own skin and hygiene. If only he would think about himself the way he thinks of your body.

He feels like he has to earn it, be acceptable, and prepare himself endlessly to enjoy touch. Even then, he thinks he must be ugly and revolting. You have to respect him fussing about it rather than forcing him to cut down on his routines. You don’t criticize his perfectionism and see the motivation behind it. So instead, you reassure Levi your own way.

The more he sees you having fun and enjoying his body, the more accepted, confident, and clean he feels. Most people would like to see their partner play up the enthusiasm obviously (unless you have a ‚hiding his amazement’ emo boy kink, which is exactly why you like Levi don’t cha), but it’s particularly meaningful to Levi. Guess why he looks up to Armin’s mentality, and Hange is one of the few people who truly vibe with Levi.

She’s easily amused, dedicated, swooning, excited, and constantly eager. Levi does appreciate a bit of zeal in someone. If you’re a little ardent about touching him, it’ll give his esteem a boost he’s long needed, oh god. Nobody has the guts to praise this guy like that, even if he’s so extremely good-looking. Don’t let him off the hook there. Give him feedback, you’ll be surprised how much it resonates.

It’s already apparent to yourself how keen you are being touchy with him, hell, you’re so in love. Still, it’s a good idea to give him an idea how stoked you are. He doesn’t like it fast and brutally raw without a second thought, but passionate is a whole other debate. A simple „Levi, stay like this, let me do it“ or „Levi, you smell so good“ works wonders. Say what you think and his ease will set in. And I don’t have to tell you that you won’t look like sex is a chore anyway. With Levi, that’s an honor and a pleasure.

That he puts his faith in you and gives you his time is already a massive deal and goes against everything we know of him, what he’s used to, and how his avoidant personality works, being so ridden with losses. And it’s all because of how much you desire and approach him. That’s what it comes down to.

Even if he’d suffer decades from yearning, he’d not go out of his way to kickstart something, never ever. He’d feel like he’d cause you so much trouble. You wanting him so badly and treating his body like a treasure on the other hand changes his mind.

It proves him wrong all the way. There is still time to enjoy love, the chance is now. Anything else would plague Levi with solitude and self-pity all over again. And the feeling of missing you around in his rooms. Two teacups on the table until he grows old and grey are his ideal of a good life, after all. He will open himself to your emotional and physical presence, realizing how touch-starved he is, and how much it improves his life to have someone to kiss and lay down next to at night.

The even breath at the back of his neck gives him a sense of finally someone sticking around with him side by side, even if he’s gone during the day. It feels good and right to be wanted by you, and nuzzling his face into your cotton dress. Your commitment gives him the little smiles and the silver lining he’s been searching for. He can’t label that feeling, but it’s joy of life and humankind, more than just a willingness for it. He would stay forever pained and bitter if he wouldn’t invite it in now, and you won’t waste that chance with being silent.

You’re attracted to everything about him, tell him, make him aware. The voice, the hair, the mannerisms, his height, his abilities, his mind, his care for others, the posture, how soft his cheeks are, the list is endless. Levi won’t miss how much he’s your type at some point. Which gives him a lot of ease, comfort. You show him that his inferiority complex was an entire smokescreen in his mind.

He fucking deserves to be called handsome. And by the way — you can lust over him as much as you want when he’s made that time window for your couple stuff. It’s good if you make it as obvious as possible for him. Which is hard to hide anyway. You’ve been masturbating over Levi just sitting there sternly writing something. And he’s like why, and you’re like, it’s you! Look at you!

Levi does want you to touch his skin all over but it’s always sore. And he remains insecure on many days. So he only has particular comfortable spots in the first place. Since hardly anybody dares to touch him, and even if he pats someone’s shoulder nobody would ever be courageous enough to reciprocate, you would feel a bit like a lab scientist. Silently theorizing over him at first even if you really don’t have to. Other people say they’d rather run towards a titan than expose themselves to Levi’s moods, swords, and barking tone after trying to caress him in any way.

News flash, Levi has had such terrible moods since forever because there’s no affection coming to him from anywhere just because people decided he might not need it. And no, he won’t yell at you for touching. He finds it very sweet of you instead. Touching Levi always creates an occasion that will float around in his head for the entire day, that’s guaranteed. He sees how someone goes out of their way and cares for his well-being. He might not like it like standing in the middle of the whole corps, but anywhere else is fair game, at home anyway.

The pressure of dealing with threats he can manage to a degree, and he has lord how many coping strategies. The lack of love he cannot. Big difference that everybody seems to confuse. On top of how he has to be unrelenting in his position because battlefield and the Yeagers being a pain. Most people — except maybe Armin — see that as a closedness to touching altogether.

The whole world seemingly can't intuit Levi’s craving of gentleness behind the arguably pretty convincing armor, but still. It seems like only a few souls ever think about the Levi that sits down on his bed in the evening completely depleted. You have to make it clear to yourself and him that it’s obviously a one-dimensional way of looking at Levi Ackerman and not good for him.

Which has covertly shaped how he interacts with others in return like a vicious spiral, which is why he blames solely himself for his depravation. And, how severe and untouchable the circumstances made his character. Yes, Levi despises himself for being inaccessible and unable to change it on top, added to how it happened to him over the years.

Which he had pretty much zero influence on being basically at the gunpoint of life. It’s what you hate seeing the most and comfort him about with brewing tea. It definitely comes back tenfold, Levi won’t take it for granted when you brush out his hair and speak soothingly to him in the evening. „I don’t care, those are all reasons why you’re the apple of my eye“ seems to be what makes Levi’s heart a little mushy in particular.

He is very preoccupied with blame at the start of your relationship. Levi is torn apart by daily guilt and a constantly looming perception of failure to show an opening to his heart. He also crumbles under how the majority of people don’t take him seriously, overreact, or fear he snaps back into soldier mode — he doesn’t — when he does show affection.

That you gaze behind his reputation and touch him without prejudice is the most important thing to him. You can ignore his mad and gloomy expression, Paradis has carved it into his face for half an eternity (the other half is for you and him when this is over). It doesn’t mean he’s angry on the inside about you. The causes for his madness are way elsewhere, knowing his early story it goes without saying. What made Levi callous and broken-hearted are things very opposite to you.

Those who only see and enjoy his fighting personality probably want him as their poster boy, people who are reflected enough to bother with the idea of a private, cuddling Levi are the only truly caring ones. Because private Levi needs that physical and emotional connection the most. Patting his cadets on their heads is only a little, albeit meaningful moment. The teacup is still half-empty regardless if you wanna think of it in those terms.

Because he can only do so much in terms of initiative — which already shocks people to the point of paralysis, which ruins the moment since he assumes it’s not appreciated then — and it’s only one-sided. Giving isn’t fully making him happy even if it’s his only option given how most people perceive him.

The teacup only fills to the brim if Levi can let go for like half an hour getting some good ole kitty on your lap treatment. He silently lays there and enjoys your hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He looks genuinely peaceful that way. His hand palms gently at your thigh and knee, and rests there all tranquil while he ruminates about his day and how lucky he is to have you.

The whole ‚theorzing rather than going for it‘ thing stems from you listening to those people a bit too much at the beginning. Instead of asking Levi directly about touch, and to be fair: Not a single human being has done that yet, you try to figure him out at a distance. Which is also a good thing though.

You learn about many Levi habits others would overlook, misinterpret, or don’t think have any meaning. The more you learn about him, the more understanding you become, the more protective you will be, the less he will avoid intimacy. Because Levi really doesn’t want to shy away, but often his body has too much memory in it to be instantly receptive. So it rather starts with the mind, then.

The irony is. Levi rejecting bonds with others as not to have them weigh heavy on his mind when fighting will only make it worse. You make a statement to him that if he fully immerses himself in what you have, he can fight better and actually be without those godforsaken regrets he’s always talking about. That’s why when you’re having sex, you make him look in your eyes and kiss their lids, and wrap your legs around him very firmly because Levi has to know he’s deeply yours.

Hugs, the same thing. You squeeze the last curse out of him every time and tell him to hold you tight as well. You do have to tell him twice. Just because Levi is the strongest man in history, doesn’t mean he embraces very roughly. In fact, Levi is not used to this at all. Even more irony. Paradis’ ever-swearing, most badass titan killer with the physical excellence of a hundred acrobats can’t execute the simple act of putting his arms around you in a normal, casual way.

The why is the harder thing to talk about. Last time he got proper, truly loving hugs was way over 20 years ago. From Kuchel, during a time where he was too young to remember these things long-term. Let that sink in. It confuses him when he does it and even more so when others do. Kissing Historia’s hand even as a light official gesture was already completely unusual for him and a first time.

Levi doesn’t go beyond what he sees others doing in that regard. No extra miles, just imitating. Now think of him with something as big a deal as embracing his lover for minutes. He lets his arms just hang there and you gotta make him learn how to intertwine fingers or how to press his palms on your back. You’re the one holding him tight there, while Levi’s mind and stare go blank, he’s even more speechless and perplexed after confronting his uncle back then.

I’m not kidding. You have to ask Levi to be forthcoming with those things as well, it simply does not occur to him, and he’s unsure about everything there is to it. What a loveless world this guy is in. If it already frustrates you to see him struggle, imagine how deprived he must be. One of his inner blocks is, Levi has major jealousy of guys who are what he thinks a better hugging height. It’s obviously the other way around to anybody who’d be in love with Levi.

Of course he has the best hugging height by far. What’s not to like? He’s ideal. But in his perspective, imagine all these people above him wrapping around each other in moments of enthusiasm, shoulder-level on shoulder-level, or only with slight differences. And when it comes to him, it feels awkward because they feel strange bending down only for him and Armin.

And that’s probably the issue. Because it’s much better not to bend and try and intertwine, but just have Levi bury his face into your winter coat without a hassle. You don’t have to be perfectly chest to chest to make it work. Besides… romantic hugs are always a bit different. And, you invite Levi to do exactly that with you. Since Levi’s pet peeve is politeness, you’ll also have to show him the difference between mere courtesy and love, he hasn’t fully learned it either.

But just so you know. Levi is not a naive baby or raging bull in a china shop once he has given his love to someone. He observes well, adapts well. When it’s heartfelt, when it’s the right moment, it comes out almost by surprise, he’s feeling it and he will respond to you. With serenity and intent.

If there’s someone who can be unpretentious with physicality, that’s him. He just has to transfer that to romantic gestures and Levi will be the perfect lover after some time. He’ll end up like, „Eh, so what. We do this hugging thing!“ — Hilarious. Levi, knowing his battle tactics, does have a sort of innate courage to approach bodies: This time, it’s about someone he wants to give pleasure and gratitude to, though. Which will feel very different.

And you’re a lady he’s all whipped for, that changes everything. He might sort of try to lean at the wall next to you, to murmur about you kissing him after eating cake so he’s full of crumbs „and now I have to dust it all off again, hmph“, but he is not prepared for another kiss and you tickling him pinned against the wall (he’s not ticklish, but you still love it, and Levi has a thing for you being all over him despite his stoic face).

So yeah, Levi will be super grumpy and do the „Oi oi!“ thing, but also turn around so you won’t see the blush. Man, is he embarrassed. He will try to waddle away awkwardly to do paperwork, but no chance if you tug him back by the sleeve, dust off his shirt from crumbs, and squeeze his cheeks into a perfect Levi snoot. I’m telling you, he has a nice pouty face.

He might assume that you’re out of your mind because nobody has done that with him yet, but once you tell him that you just wanna look at him because every day might be the last, he sees the point of your antics. Merely saying you kiss him just because won’t make sense to the captain, it’s gotta have a purpose for the future.

So, you will tell him to always remember what your soothing lips do on him before he draws the blade tomorrow, and that he has plenty of filthy crumbs to come home to. „I think that’s right by what we’ve seen today“ is what he’ll admit, and carries you off to the bed to get grinding because all that stuff made him kinda turned on. Or rather, you grind, Levi on the other hand gets flustered. He complains about you being a tease at length since he’s having a huge she-pinned-me-to-the-wall boner.

You sit on his face to take it even further and as his favorite treat, end of discussion, your goddess is here mister. Geez, you’ll make him a hot mess. That dick won’t go soft anytime soon. You’ll talk to him about when his face is already ruined with cake crumbs, he has nothing to lose, gotta clean up anyway. The grumbling noise from below tells you that the argument is a good one. For good measure, you palm at his trousers to see his legs react and his voice suddenly hitch. Ah, it’s a wonderful day.

Levi knows a thing or two about holding his breath correctly, but what he likes the most is that he feels perfectly sandwiched between thigh Rose and thigh Maria. Yeah, he does consider them his personal comfort walls and hopes they’ll always be there. Congruently, Levi wraps his arms around them, in fact it’s locking rather than wrapping, and you’re like I see wow he’s serious.

On goes his tongue lapping away between your labia pretty much incessantly. The arousal is so intense, you have to breathe in yourself. Oh shit, Levi is gonna try to finish you off, shots fired. Not fast, but insisting. He does not bother with you panting pretty damn hard whatsoever. He’s calling people like that, but Levi might be the real brat all along.

Fair enough, he currently doesn’t hear anything, which he also loves the idea of. All day, people everywhere are talking nonsense, and now he gets to enjoy perfect silence. His ears are small, they’re easy to cover with thighs. He just goes on and on and gets you past lord how many brinks with a heated buildup.

There are a lot of evil things Mister Zeke has said and committed, but by far the most offending thing he has yet insinuated is that Levi is not popular with the ladies. Blasphemy, treason, outrage, éclat, trickery, criminal offense, international slander, the most grueling case of fake news since the horse left the building, and no, Jean is not meant. With those oral skills, any lady interested in him would get a permanently bleeding nose and something else permanently wet as you can personally attest to.

If Paradis would even remotely know what he can do in bed (and they would if Connie told them, he lives next door), even more people would run down his house than they already do to get a piece of him. Jesus Christ, the Ackerstamina. But I mean. People are probably suspecting it.

How can you not move like a god in bed if you can bend yourself into any Pythagorean shape mid-air. Him being a fighter also gives him experience with managing energy when you have sex, I’m not kidding. Levi can even handle you thrusting right back on his tongue, and even your jokes about how he’s getting the cream to his tea now.

Levi is already kind of dripping in juice. His fingers are sweaty, this time it’s something on his face and hands he prefers though. He won’t wipe it off just yet. So you take on the task to put a condom on him — kind of expensive, mysteriously imported, gotta make every one count my friend — and have Levi take you from behind to soil the bedsheets completely at this point.

Levi lets all the leaking happen, of course he notices, and yet he’s too focused on you gripping his cock hard all the way. So much for walls. Levi has to surrender to the thought of you squeezing him in any way you fancy at this point. That doesn’t just include the face, that much he learned. His cock is gonna fall off, you tighten up so much and make him squirm, Levi’s all blissed out.

He can’t handle your ass either. He just stares like the Founding Titan invented a brand new method to hypnotize the Ackermans or something. Although. Why’d you need to come up with something, though? People they love completely enthrall them already.

If we know something by now, it's that every Ackerman gets completely fucked in the head out of the blue and sent to another dimension when they’re with the love of their life, no hypnotizing device needed. Levi is clasping his teeth for his dear life back there. People asking him if he’s gone mad he’d answer ‚maybe‘, but if you asked him if this made him lose it he would admit it.

Since he doesn’t know what to do with his hands again, you ask him to place them at your waist. „Properly, now slide in, Levi.“ — He takes his time for the first few thrusts, grunts, but gets the hang of it, in fact he’s a pro in the making. All that vertical maneuvering can turn into horizontal maneuvering very quickly. Levi feels so strange and so good at the same time, it’s overwhelming. How can something he thought would be so dirty be this amazing?

And since this position allows him to penetrate you even deeper, Levi gets the full experience of being inside of you times two. The wet noise already turns him on, his body feels so warmed up, and he feels really shocked he’s doing this. Although his face won’t show, it’ll be concentrated as before. On the inside, Levi is losing it.

He can’t get enough of your body and how you tell him what to do, Levi will be driving it home in no time. You’re gonna have your jaw dropped by how lusty he can get yourself, but also love how he’s really breaking a sweat just because of your hard grip. Who would have thought. 14-meter class titans got nothing on you. Levi’s entire neck and chest is glazed over. You call him out on it, all you’re gonna get is a little ‚tch, that’s your fault, woman‘. I mean of course it is. He’s literally at your mercy. I told you he’s hilarious.

Little did you know that Levi will straight-up ignore his sweatiness and just continue, one heartbeat at a time, to really fill you out and make you feel good. Can you imagine. Levi dedicating like 20 minutes to make sweet love to you doggystyle.

He has a good feeling for keeping you just on the verge of cumming. He even reaches around to press two fingers into your clit after five minutes of figuring out his angles. You didn’t expect this at all. It’s as if Levi can read your mind going „but his hands are gonna get really messy, why?“ — he just goes on rubbing and says, deadpan: „Miss, do I look like I care.“

Some dirty things in the world are just there to annoy him. They’re not existing to make his life easier. And toilet humor-related things: We know Levi’s stance on that. Wet pussy on the other hand: Surprise. He thinks of it very differently. Levi is pretty caught off guard by the fact that you loving and adoring him is the reason you’re leaking so much.

It sinks in (um, literally) that you’re all drippy because you really want him inside. Not to mention that he constantly realizes just how attracted to him you are. Your desire for him, that’s Ackerman kryptonite. Levi doesn’t miss your eyes, nope. That motherfucker is a damn good face reader.

And— How warmed up your body feels in his hands, how you’re breathing. How you’re telling him exactly how to tilt to hit the good spots. How you’re sucking in air when he does just that. How you sound, grip the pillow, the sheets. Your goosebumps all over your legs. How your lips part. How you wait for every thrust. The way you tell him how good it is. Your pulse. Your own sweaty back, letting his hands on your waist slip and slide a little with the rhythm.

How he’s struggling not to moan his soul out and chokes back. How you’re softly moving to glide off, he’s gonna lose his mind. How much you’re enjoying him and how cute you tell him he is. Whatever you’d ask of him, he’s so ready to fulfill it. You having the absolute hots for Levi is probably gonna preoccupy him for the whole night while you’re sleeping and he sits in the chair.

He’s been shooting grumpy cat level eye daggers with extra Ackerpoison at the corps couples for walking around showing any signs of this. Making all those lovey-dovey faces or going to the back of the barn together. Levi has chased them with his favored broom to whoop-diddly-doop those horndog soldiers back on track, swirling his weapon of choice around to send a sweeping cloud of dust after them.

Whereas now… he has to deal with the fact that he really loves all that horny stuff. Cognitive dissonance 101 is striking him out of nowhere. I mean he’d not fuck in the barn, that one is truly disgustingly shittily bastardly filthy or however he’d word it, but you get the gist. He caught feelings and caught pleasure — and that’s such a good thing.

His problem is, Levi wouldn’t know how to fawn right back at you. Except saying „good job“ like he’d praise a cadet, but he decides that’s not something to say during sex. He’s very right about that indeed. So instead: He will always reply to you accordingly and with Levi-typical honesty.

If you say you love how he kisses your neck from behind, he will tell you he’s enjoying it as well because damn he loves that spot indeed (titans can tell you a story about it… Levi has such a neck fixation, that fucker). And: Letting actions speak the loudest with him. He’s a practical guy. Levi’s hands can to the most complicated reverse grips and all that crazy human Beyblade shit. Getting you off at his fingertips is gonna be his easiest exercise ever once he gets into it.

He doesn’t even do it to show off at this point. Levi is just that kind of a sex machine and eager to please, not to mention god, is he obedient and a giver in disguise. If Levi were offered the most luxurious, expensive tea available versus your breasts to suck on for a week given he’s free of titan duty… that cup is gonna turn cold. He loves the skinship and he loves giving you a fuckton of orgasms, as many as you like and as many he has time for.

Self-explanatory, this is something he will not feel one bit of regret about. Hours touching you is the farthest from wasting time to Levi. The less he holds back with his love, the more secure things become. He doesn’t feel the misery he thought he’d run into, nor does it feel like a reckless act that’s only something feeble.

The new soap every other week on his table alone reminds him you’re here to stay and like his every quirk, and make this a private thing rather than something to parade around. You never lied saying „Levi, you’re mine.“ He does wrap his head around the fact that all of this is happening with time.

Levi finds your relationship meaningful because it gives him feelings and exactly that emotional harbor he never had before, and he gifts you the reverence of your lifetime since Levi doesn’t half-ass anything. You reassured and guided him so much, he looks up to that, it breaks down his prejudice against loving more and more. That’s how you’ll feel intimate in all kinds of ways for very intense hours he can spare to make the most out of it.

From the light touch at his arm to making out until the candles burn down. And if you tell Levi to sell the deal and dedicate his heart, how can he not take that as a serious order. He has to be guarded to put his guard down, and that’s what you can offer him, and he will create something lasting out of it. Promise is promise to him, we all know.

RELATED: sub!levi hc (tea shop au) | life after war (levi’s happy end)

multifandom mlist | levi writings on ao3

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withgirl-sq · 2 years

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Avalance- Nate and Ava as siblings

A follow-up from my last post about the AU where Ava and Nate are sibling, a few people seemed interested so I figured that I would post the word vomit that comes with outlining fics, this is as far as I got with this one!

With all of my WIPs I could do more of these so let me know if you would be interested in reading notes for fics that I won’t get around to writing!

Just tagging those who responded to my last post :)

@weendycarr @heyfarfallina @zariscellphone

Click ‘Keep reading’ for the word vomit that emits from my brain when I’m planning fics! XD

Backstory-

Hank was super homophobic so kicked Ava out when she was fifteen and she went to live with her Aunt Tamsin Sharpe.

Nate missed her but he was only 12/13 so didn’t feel like he could say anything.

Ava joined the army when she was old enough because she and Nate were both super into Commander Steel when they were younger.

She gets injured and is honourably discharged - Rip recruits her for the Time Bureau because he promised Commander Steel that he would take care of his family.

Season 3-

The Legends meet Ava in the same way as the show but Sara notices a look between Ava and Nate when she takes Ray down – She doesn’t find out the truth until the Romans take Ava and Nate says something along the lines of ‘I can’t let her go again!’ and he has to explain to the rest of the team that Ava is his sister.

The season would mostly go the same after that but add in Ava and Nate boding again after being apart for so long while the Avalance relationship blooms - Would also include *protective* brother Nate

Season 4-

Nate joins Ava to help with the bureau meeting like he does in the show but they both freak out when they see Hank is the one that arrives for the meeting and they try and send Gary to do it but have to intervene – Hank is super formal with her

In this AU Hank isn’t working with Neron, he’s there to check on Nate but didn’t put it together that Director Sharpe was Ava because she didn’t change her name until she was recruited by Rip.

This isn’t fully figured out in terms of how I would actually write it (which is why I haven’t lol!) but here’s some scenes that I would include:

- Nate tries to calm Ava down about the whole ‘Hank’ situation and so she gets high on a pot brownie just as Hank drops into the Waverider for a surprise inspection - Ava would snipe at him with this kind of exchange - Hank - ‘This place is a mess, it’s looks like it’s been abandoned’ / Ava - ‘Well you would know all about that, wouldn’t you Hank?’ — Sara pulls Ava away and finishes the inspection with him

- Ava finding out that Nate dated Vixen and being shocked because they spent their childhood obsessed with the JSA

- The birthday scene in Ava’s office but 100x more awkward — There would also be a much more innocent birthday with the siblings sharing cake and avoiding the fact that Hank didn’t once mention that it’s her birthday

- Nate tries to invite Ava to Thanksgiving but she refuses — Something goes wrong at the Bureau so she has to come and get Nate and sees her mom for the first time since she was kicked out

- Hank spends a lot of time antagonising Sara and she keeps trying to be respectful until she snaps at him for hurting Ava

- At some point, Ava gets hurt [Maybe by Neron?] and needs a blood transfusion but Nate and Hank are not the same blood type as her so they get her mom to come and give blood- she snaps at Hank for letting this happen and apologises to Ava for not stopping Hank years ago and also hugs Sara when she meets her for looking after her daughter

- Hank remains stubborn and keeps trying to be professional with Ava at work until Nate demands to know why since Ava has started coming home again (maybe she was invited to Christmas?) and Hank admits that he doesn’t know how he can make up for what he did

- Hank apologises to Ava and reveals that he has been carrying around a newspaper clipping about her getting a medal after her honourable discharge - Also reveal that he has been using his position to keep tabs on Sara and making sure that she has been good to her

- Not sure how this would be achieved but their relationship would slowly start to mend

- Just a funny scene to finish on, some time later Avalance find out that they’re having a baby and we can have the Friends-type scene- ‘She’ll have lots of aunts and uncles’ - Zari / ‘But I’m actually her uncle’ - Nate / ‘You’re all her family’ - Sara / ‘But out of all of us, who would you come to for a blood transfusion?’ - Nate / ‘Our baby is not getting your serum blood’ - Ava - Cue Nate being super offended!

#avalance #sara lance #ava sharpe #Ava Heywood #Nate Heywood #Hank Heywood #Legends of Tomorrow #AU outline #TW homophobia

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scriptaed · 4 years

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cherry blossom avenue.

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

❀ pairing: jin x reader;

❀ length: 23.0k;

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

“Don’t be a homewrecker.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just that the truth hurts sometimes.

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

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

No one would know but Jin.

The real you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t be a homewrecker.

A baby in her.

A baby.

His fiance.

A homewrecker.

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

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

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

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

❀ ❀ ❀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—almost perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—ew!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You almost already do that except for breakfast.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay… and fifth?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What—”

—click.

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

❀ ❀ ❀

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

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

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”

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

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

This is awkward. So painfully awkward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why?

Why can’t he remember?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—dumb…?”

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

“Sorry, I didn’t meant that...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—I’m dumb, okay, Jin?” you finally muster the courage to lift your sights to find his own confused ones. “It’s been five whole years and I’m embarrassed for taking a joke of a promise so seriously when my best friend doesn’t even remember making it!”

The scrunch in his brows and lost resolution only reverberate the deafening ache in your chest. “The promises…? Y/N, I—”

“—it’s fine,” you blurt. Shaking your head and stumbling backwards, you look him straight in the eyes to say your last words before the fading knocks of your heels against the wood are all that he hears. “It's my fault for believing in a foolish fairytale anyways.”

❀ ❀ ❀

It’s almost like a fever dream when you recall just how confidently you had spat those spiteful words and furthermore dared to depart with that sheer satisfaction and the slightest aftertaste of alcohol residing on your tongue that night; but now that you’re awake, sober, and without the power of liquor, there’s nothing that can pull you out of your greatest nightmare most recently manifested into reality.

“Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that?”

The incessant grumbles tumble freely from your lips whilst you pace back and forth in the corner of the office. Typically, your colleagues would describe you as composed, reserved, and the level-headed half of an otherwise wild pair with Alex. This morning, however, they begin to question everything they’ve ever known about you as they watch through the corner of their averting eyes.

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone!” Alex hisses under her breath along with the threatening glares she shoots at the audience. Considering how long you’ve been going at your mental breakdown, it doesn’t take very long for your shuffling footsteps and mumbling gibberish to transcend into yet another white noise in the office; and once the majority of the passersby settle on the new revelation of your hidden crazed nature, Alex hastily storms to your side as you begin banging your head against the wall. “Why would you throw a tantrum at your best friend’s engagement party?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying…” you pause momentarily to groan before proceeding to damage whatever is left of your seemingly deteriorating brain. “Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do—”

“—not to mention, an ex best friend who never even knew about your unrequited feelings—”

—she comes to an abrupt stop when she finds the deadliest scowl in your dart-like eyes. No words are exchanged but the lethal consequences are clear enough to grant you her silence and the continuance of your destruction.

“Why the hell did I do that, Alex?” you whimper, taking a break from your antics because, damn, your forehead is really starting to hurt. “Whyyyyyyy did you have to leave me alone? Maybe Jin wouldn’t have found me and I wouldn’t have had to confront him over something that shouldn’t even matter anymore! I-I barely even know him… it’s been five years and, suddenly, here I am, voila! At his engagement banquet, yelling in his face and getting mad over feelings that aren’t even his fault!”

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol.”

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol,” you retort. Taking a deep breath, you let out a sigh along with the scowl plastered across your face. Your next words come out more as a helpless confession of fear than a rhetorical question to be answered. “Do you think he… hates me…?”

Alex observes you for a lingering second, perhaps contemplating between a merciful albeit exacerbating answer and a merciless albeit helpful answer. She speaks carefully, treading dangerous water, “well… would you like him to?”

“I don’t know,” you shut your eyes to heave yet another sigh because that weight in your chest refuses to leave you alone. An unapologetic swinging of the door and a series of loud, wide strided footsteps that follow have your brows furrowing and it takes everything in you and Alex, judging by the sudden shuffles you hear by your side, to finish the rare heart-to-heart conversation. “I think… I think if he hated me, maybe that would extinguish that part of me from the past. If he hated me, I would be able to get over it. Maybe I would hate him too, out of spite, but at least I would be able to get over—””

“—it…? Over what, Y/N?”

Over what? It takes you much longer than it should have for you to surmise the most probable answer to her question, an answer you were never willing to admit and an answer you aren’t quite sure you’re ready to admit even now.

“You know what I’m implying, Alex,” you sigh, shutting your eyes even tighter when a rising heat marks your cheeks. “I want to get over—”

—but your words are cut short by a familiar voice that has your heart racing and striking an unprecedented strife in the mayhem that is your systemic state...

“You can’t possibly hate me, Y/N,” he proudly proclaims and you can practically hear him smiling, “no one ever hates Kim Seokjin.”

...and when your eyes finally flutter open, you find the man, who had only seemed like a phenomenon of your feverish dream a second ago, standing before you and adorning that signature smile with raised cheek apples and crescent-like eyes that has yet to change under the influence of time and distance.

“W-What are you doing here…?” you barely manage to utter. Eyes flickering around your surroundings, from Jin’s broad shoulders that shield nearly the entirety of a helpless albeit buoyant Alex, to your colleagues who fail to discreetly whisper over the lavishly suited mystery of a man, and finally back to the bouquet of pastel flowers wrapped with a bright pink bow. Brows furrowing, you struggle to organize your thoughts and even go so far as to check for the dent in your reddish forehead in a vain attempt to dispel the mind tricks. When the mirage before you fails to dissipate into thin air like sand, you slowly turn to face the wall again only to have your antics disrupted by his refreshingly cold hand on your burning forehead ; and when you turn, you find Jin’s mischievous smile growing wider by the second. “H-how do you know where I work…?”

“I’m your best friend, Y/N. Have you somehow forgotten after all that head banging?” Jin scoffs in disbelief, gawking with a chuckle. Suddenly, he leans in to grab your right hand firmly in his own, squeezing twice as he had always done and leading you toward the exit. “C’mon, let’s go recover those memories of yours, eh?”

“Wait, wait,” you nearly stumble over your own feet at the pace he’s going, struggling to catch your breath when he bursts through the last door and a blast of freezing wind envelops the clash of the heat reverberating from your beating heart. “I have to go back! I still have work! And, and… and where in the world are you even taking me?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Y/N, so many dumb questions for someone who always topped my grades,” the boy holds the bouquet of flowers out toward you, refusing to continue until you reluctantly accept his gift with your left hand against your chest. Smiling at your reluctant acceptance, Jin turns his back on you and proceeds to march into the parking lot but his now warm hands intertwined with your now cold hands never loosens its grip.

It’s been a long five years of waiting to finally relish in the hold of his familiarly slim, often teased albeit self-praised double-jointed hands, but, now that you’re finally living in it, you’re sure it was all worth it… even if the crashing flames at the end of this road is an inevitable, foreseeable future.

“Jin,” you frown as you stare at Jin’s opening of the car door and gesture of an invitation, reluctantly seating yourself in his sumptuous car. “I failed half of my exams... remember?”

The boy’s laughs can still be heard even through the closed door as he makes his way around the car front, all whilst swinging the keys in his forefinger. His cackling steps an abrupt many levels of decibels higher when the opposing door opens and he plops into the driver seat. “That never stopped you from boasting, did it?”

Without the flare of your usual clever quips, you purse your lips in silence and subconsciously hug the bouquet closer to your chest to keep his space as unoccupied by your presence. The sudden turn of events has your head spinning and your heart racing enough for the thumps to be felt by your hands.

How did he find out where you worked? Where was he even taking you and what was he planning to do with you? Why was he acting as if you had not angered him just two nights ago?

You don’t think you’ll be getting the answer any time soon, particularly the latter question, but when your stomach growls loudly, eliciting a crackle of a laugh from Jin, the awkward tension in your muscles eases ever so slightly.

“...s-sorry… I skipped breakfast.”

“I know,” he puts the car into neutral at the red light and turns to peer at you with a smug look that says he could still read you like an open book, “because you always skip breakfast. I hid some pastry in the bouquet.”

“What?” you scrunch your nose but immediately dive your scavenging hands into the flowers; and sure enough, you find your favorite cream-filled bread of his warm in your hands and you can’t stifle the smile that spreads on your lips. “Why would you even do that?”

“Well, in case you suddenly got really jacked and physically refused to come with me, then at least you would have something to eat.”

“No,” you giggle, “I meant why would you hide the bread in the bouquet…”

His eyes brighten like a lightbulb, as if only now recalling the genius plan he had crafted himself, “oh, because then you can sneak a bite without having to leave your desk! It always worked with our backpacks, didn’t it?”

Your sights fall to the bouquet and you can only reply with a sheepish grin, “right… it sure did.”

The engine purrs to life again when the light turns green and the remainder of the car ride is filled with the smooth drift of his ride and the ceaseless albeit completely welcomed humming from his lips. The old Jin never had enough of an incentive to drive, although his parents always suggested gifting him a brand new car and you had begged him to take the offer out of boredom and a never-ending desire to escape far away from university, but something about this moment in time has you feeling cozy, belonging, and at home. It’s almost like it was meant to be.

But the silver ring shining around his finger under the angle of the sun is a dreadful reminder that it isn’t.

So, as a slap to yourself back into reality, you fracture this perfect moment you would have once framed in that hopeless mind of yours, “so… how did you find out where I worked?”

“Ah,” his right hand casually slips onto the back of your headrest. “Still haven’t figured out, rank 292?”

“No, I haven’t, rank 295.”

“First,” he raises a finger, “I asked some people through the grapevines and eventually your friend Alex gave out.”

Grumbling under your breath, you curse, “damn it, Alex.”

“And second,” he raises another finger before proclaiming firmly, “I’m proving you wrong.”

“Proving me wrong?” you articulate with a scoff. “You’re going to prove me wrong? Right, keep dreaming.”

“I’m not going to prove you wrong, I am proving you wrong," he insists before shifting the car to neutral and leaning in toward you, gaze brimming with conviction locked with your own wary ones, as if ready to spill a secret sworn by the two of you and hidden from the rest of the universe.

He's close enough for his minty breath to graze your burning cheeks, to breathe a vigorous life previously unknown by your dull five years. Heart pumping and lungs barely working, daring not to budge for being caught under the sway of his gravitational force, you can hardly catch him when he finally speaks.

"I haven't forgotten, Y/N,” he utters, “I'm a man of my word."

❀ ❀ ❀

Promise one.

"I'll cook every meal for you for an entire day."

Promise two.

"I'll bring flowers to you at work."

His unabashed, overly detailed tactic to ask for your hand in marriage still echoes from a time long past. Hopes for those promises were weakened by each passing second but unequivocally unassailed at birth. Eventually, smothered and disheartened, you had been forced to cut ties and confront the reality of broken promises and broken dreams. You had once somehow convinced yourself things would never return to the ways they once were, and, yet, here he is having returned by your side and here you are enraptured by the utter joy in his laughs after all this wavering time.

It's like a dream come true; and if this indeed all just a nightmarish dream bound to death, you wish you never swore allyship to this alcohol, for now your only wish is for it to succumb you into a deep, long slumber.

“I toooooooold you I don’t like paaaaasta!” you whine, the drag of your voice manifesting in white puffs in the still chilly spring air. The sudden transition between the warmth of his house to the frozen world outside has you spiraling into a series of trips and stumbles; and as always, your best friend Jin is the only one to hold you up, which is a good thing considering how you would’ve been tumbling into the death trap of a river beneath this bridge. “So whyyyy did you make me pastaaaaaaa? Whyyyyyyy?”

“What? Why’re you blaming me?” he retorts, obviously taking offence. “You always loved pasta! You ate it every single day at uni!”

“I diiiiid love pasta,” you say through barely parted lips, “but it’s all just… just carbs, carbs, carbssss…”

“Since when did you care about carbs?” Jin frowns, poking your cheeks that lean against his sturdy arms. “Should I call the police?”

Your brows furrow and you lift your head to narrow your eyes at him, “what? Why?”

And as soon as those words slip from your lips and he raises his finger-gun hands, you wish you hadn’t asked in the first place.

“Because I think you’re an impasta,” his finger guns transform into jazz hands after you stare at him in dumbfounded silence, “...badumtsss….”

A series of empty blinks are exchanged, as if neither of you had just witnessed his most tragic dad joke to date; and so, you swiftly continue with a sigh, “I think… I think I started caring ever since heee mentioned I was getting fat.”

“I can’t believe you just ignored my unprecedented joke…” he grumbles to himself but lets out a little huff when he catches you from tipping over. Wordlessly, he hooks his arm with yours to keep you close to him. “And this ‘he’ you mention, who’s he?”

“Heee.”

“Who? Who’s ‘heeee’?” he spouts with pouty lips and a raised chin, flailings his body, and therefore yours, about every which way like a toddler. “Who’s this man I have to beat up, huh? He better square up!”

“I don’t think you could beat him up…” you mumble, eyes heavy but determined enough to reach his own flabbergasted ones. “It’s Jooooon, dummy, Kim-Nam-Joon, the boy I shared my first kiiiiss with…”

“Kim Namjoon?!” his eyes widen. “You think I wouldn’t be able to beat up that nerd?!”

You almost manage to push Jin away the foot of the bridge if it weren’t for his firm lock around you. “Have you seen his muscles?! He might not look like it with his books and all but he worked out all the time!”

“Yeah, well,” his lips sputter, “well, have you seen my muscles?!”

“No—” you freeze when you realize the sturdiness of his arm against your head is existing proof against your word, and maybe it’s because of his obvious flexing at this moment, but you could not believe just how built his arms had grown in the past five years, “—and I don’t want to.”

“Hah! You just don’t want to admit that I’m right. C’mon, I’ll show you. You feel it, huh? You feel it?” he flexes persistently, twisting and turning to maximize his little showcase. “So? You think I can beat him up now?”

“Well…” your voice trails off, mind clearly preoccupied with sticking your cheeks to his arm like glue in a somewhat fruitful attempt to hide the flush in your face. “You don’t really need to beat him up…”

“What?” he almost yells. “Why not? He called you fat!”

“Well, he…” your shoulders rise with each confession, “he said one of my dresses looked tight on me…”

“And?”

“...and he wasn’t exactly wrong…”

“So?”

“...so he didn’t actually say anything offhandedly…”

“What? You should’ve told me earlier!” Jin exclaims, arms thrown high into the air and consequently pushing your helpless self onto the hillside grass beside the run of the river. Lips gaping and eyes popping, you watch him in full offense as he mumbles to himself before resuming his stroll down the hill. “And here I am getting worked up over nothing… can’t believe I thought I could play hero for once…”

“Hey, Jin, what do you mean by that?” you call out to him. “Wait! I said wait for me, Jin!”

When your rhetorical questions are answered with silence, you hasten to your feet in order to catch up with those damn wide strides of his. Damn it, how did he make it halfway down the hill already? Each of your exclamations are unsurprisingly disobeyed by the boy who just throws his head back over his shoulder with that cheeky grin of his as he quickened his pace. Following suit, your strides turn into a jog and your jogs turn into a full out sprint until the both of you are full on running the 100 meters dash, one chasing and one fleeing, wind blowing refreshingly into your heated face and into your tangled locks and inflated lungs that relish in the breath of life.

In the midst of all the chaotic bliss of an epiphany, you find yourself screaming and laughing at the top of your lungs...

“Hey! Jin! I swear I”m gonna kick your ass!”

...and it’s at this moment in time that you realize having forgotten what it means to be a fool who lived and not to live to be a fool.

At some point in time, after having caught up to the knucklehead and giving a piece of your mind, the two of you settle down along the concrete ledge beside the river after a jittery, welcomed high. The sunset that followed was a pleasant surprise that had you two reminiscing over the countless mornings and evenings you had spent watching the sun rise and set together whilst churning throughout tireless exam nights. Pink, golden streaks now hidden behind a thick coating of midnight blue embellished by magical glitters all throughout, tonight’s stargazing becomes a first for the two of you.

As much as you hoped you could numb yourself from the inevitable aftereffects of this death wish of a dreamy day, you can’t help but smile, thankful to have been completely sober to engrave this night into memory.

“So...” Jin’s utter is the first to break the silence. He turns his head to give you a playful look of eyes that beams with wary curiosity, “...you started dating Namjoon after I left?”

“Mm… maybe,” you hum, “why? Got a problem with that?”

“What? Psh, what? Why would I have a problem with that?” he snorts. “The only problem I would have is the fact that you never asked me for permission.”

Your eyes widen, almost threateningly, “are you saying I need permission from a man to date another man? Not to mention a man who abandoned me without warning!”

“Okay, first of all, it’s not my fault you cancelled your phone plan! I called and called, I tried everything I could even though I was deadbeat tired every day. It’s not my fault I thought you hated my guts! So please just understand that I didn’t abandon you, alright?” he spills in an endless stream akin to a water faucet left on the highest setting, clearly a performance either practiced in private or incited by years of pent up pressure. You can practically see the steam shooting out of his fiery red ears and the accompanying whistle manifesting into words; and by the time his chest is heaving, his lungs are panting and very dramatically so, and his eyes flicker nervously between you and the passing water, you can’t help but snicker. Unsurprisingly, your lack of empathy elicits an unamused look on his face. “Hey, hey, what’re you laughing at, huh?”

“Me? Oh, nothing,” your hands move into your laps and you bat your eyes innocently, “it’s just that I can’t believe you’re blaming me, a helpless, poor girl with absolutely no connections, for cancelling her phone plan as a last resort to make ends meet.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he warns with an accusatory finger, “don’t you dare think I’ll fall for that eye blinking and whatever cute act you’re playing up again!”

“Why?” you pout, almost cringing at your own antics. “Am I not cute?”

“No, you’re hurting my eyes. Plus, if anyone’s cute here,” he declares adamantly before puffing his cheeks and poking one with his forefinger, “it’s me.”

The both of you stare at the other for a stagnant few seconds, one completely dedicated to his performance and the other utterly flabbergasted by what plays out before her.

The only word you manage to crank out is a, “uh…”

“What do you think?” he raises another finger to poke his other cheek. “I practiced just for you.”

“Um… you’re 27 now, Jin.”

“So?” he tilts his head in the other direction. “Still 22 and young at heart.”

“Yeah? Then I’m still 22 and still equally disgusted by aegyo—” just as he parts his lips to provide another rebuttal, you quickly add in “—by your aegyo.”

And just like that, the man drops his boyish character just as quickly as he had stepped into it. He mumbles, dropping his hands and shooting an equivocate look at you, “okay, tough crowd. Sorry, ma’am.”

It shouldn’t have been that hilarious nor should your response been so delayed, but it only takes a split second of his surrender for a thunderous cackle to slip from your lips. Throwing your head back and peering at the dangling stars above, you allow yourself a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath of the incoming wind. The fresh petrichor of spring and the earthiness of mowed grass whisks themselves into the cold, clean breeze from the vast body of water. Thin locks of hair grazes across your cheeks, swaying in the wind as does your spirit. Years are lifted from your shoulders and all that is left is the heaviness that remains in your chest; nevertheless, you have never felt so free from the past.

“Also,” he adds nonchalantly, cocking his head to look at you, “I wasn’t speaking from the position of a man. I was speaking as a best friend. As your best friend.”

And just like that, sitting side by side and sharing a cool breeze, it’s almost as if all these moments of remorse, spilled tears, and unreleased frustration were made to build the climax to this grand finale: the night you can finally speak your truth.

“It’s funny how things never change, huh?” you say when your eyes flutter open and you find Jin looking over with a fondness identical to the one you’ve spotted years before. “We can split for five years, thinking one hates the other’s guts, and reunite again as best friends… as if nothing had ever happened.”

Jin chuckles, hands grabbing to the ledge and head lolling back to join you but his eyes remain fixated on you, “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Are we vampires and we just don’t know it?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure either… not sure about the good thing and not the vampire thing, that is,” your laugh settles into silence when you spot the reflected light inflicted by the ring around his finger, sitting on the ledge just an inch away from yours. Close enough to touch but far enough to confirm an unequivocal truth. Sighing, you turn your head to meet his intent gaze with a bittersweet upturn to your lips, “normally, I really despise the idea of change; but lately, when I think about how things might never change between us, how we’ll always banter as a pair of stupid best friends, I start wanting it more than ever.”

Is this the moment? Is it all really happening right now? Judging by the course of your blithe actions, if change is what you’re looking for, then change is what will surely ensue after tonight. Whether for the good or for the worse, you’ll take a reluctant guess of the latter.

The man scrunches his brows before playing it off with a nervous laugh, “what do you mean things haven’t changed? You dated Namjoon, probably got it on a few times here or there—”

“—what—”

“—please don’t confirm,” he butts in with a raised hand, “and I have, too. Sure things have changed!”

“Ooh?” you raise a brow, genuinely shocked. “You finally got some experience under your belt? I’m impressed, Mr. Kim.”

“Hey,” he scolds, “what do you mean by ‘impressed?’”

“Well, I should’ve known… figuring you’re about to be a married man and all…” you mumble, forcing a smile despite the sudden dip in your mood. Turning your head to stare off into the opposite end of the river where the black silhouette of skyscrapers lie, you curse yourself mentally. You really thought you could get away with the inevitable truth for the entire day? “You know, I can’t believe I almost forgot that you’re getting married in less than a week. Almost like how I couldn’t believe you almost forgot our promises.”

“I told you Kim Seokjin is a man of his words.”

“You sure about that? Promise one: cook for me for an entire day. Check. Promise two: gift me flowers at work. Check,” you turn around once again to look him firmly in the eyes and it’s almost as if the both of you know what’s about to come next. “What about the three other promises, Kim Seokjin?”

“Y/N…” his voice trails off but his gaze never leaves yours, almost as if too afraid to be misconstrued as another betrayal.

Quick-mindedly, you chime, “stop looking at me so seriously! I’m just joking! Promise three: you won’t break my heart. How could you after a wonderful day like this? Promise four: you won’t forget our promises. Clearly, you remember. And promise five: you’ll keep all your promises. Check.”

“Y/N,” he stifles every wince but you can tell by the way his feet have stopped kicking into the void. “I don’t think I’ve kept all those promises.”

“Well,” you shrug, pressing your lips into a line tightly, “I only see checks in my book, Jin. You’re good to go—”

“—no, Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he says sternly; and when your mouth falls agape and your head slightly nods, his wary eyes searching for a steady sign in the windows to your soul, he continues calmly, “my marriage is actually an arranged marriage.”

“Your—” you blink blankly, jaw almost falling to the floor “—your, you, what?”

An arranged marriage.

All this time, all this pain, all this heartbreak of wanting to do something about your feelings but remaining hopeless because of an unrequited love… turns out to be an active, fully conscious decision? Not a falling out of love, not a helpless affection for another woman, but a matchmaking handcrafted without the heavens?

“My,” he has to stop himself just as his breath hitches, “my father... arranged it. ”

“What? Why? Is it because he prefers you with a well off family?”

“What? No,” he shakes his head with a slight upcurve to his lips that you’ve never quite seen before. Watching him hook a hand to the nape of his neck, clearly avoiding your eyes, you have an inkling of something much worse than the presented news. “You know my father would never do that… it has nothing to do with money...”

“But you left this town for money, didn’t you? For a better job, a better pay, a better life, and for the sake of your dignity as a dutiful son, are you telling me none of those were related to money?”

His eye twitches by your name-calling, clearly pained once again despite knowing very well of your precedent dislike toward his silver spoon background and his nonnegotiable obedience. Each second of silence culminates a tension even more formidable than the last. Guilt intoxicates your boiling blood enough for you to bite your tongue and hold yourself back; because after accusing him of holding onto his dignity, you, yourself, could not forfeit that of your own either.

Worse yet, you’re a complete hypocrite.

“Why can’t you just tell him to call it off?”

You never knew silence could be so deafening.

“So… so do you...” you begin hesitantly. Usually, with your eyes locked with his, a thousand words would have been exchanged with each passing second; but now, with gazes that wade through the tides of the unknown, for the first time ever, you don’t recognize the mystery before you. “Do you... love her?”

His lips part slowly, but no time in the world would be enough for him to find the right words. To you, his silence is as clear as any possible answer. Something sinks in you, perhaps after acknowledging the implications behind his choice to leave your question unanswered, but your blood boils from the audacity of those apologetic eyes that, even now, never stray from yours… as if this minute of sincerity would be enough to mend the inevitable decade of scars.

You begin slowly, failing to hide the shakiness of your deep breaths, “...then what about the baby?”

“What baby...?” his face contorts with a frown until, out of the blue, something flickers across his numerous expressions: confusion, remembrance, contemplation. His hesitation that ensues might have been fleeting but its infliction upon your shattered trust will surely remain. “Oh, that… that was just a rumor my aunt spread because of the sudden marriage.”

“And,” you force yourself to breathe, scattering for something, anything to throw at him, “and you don’t think you could’ve told me sooner?”

The man scrunches his brows, “and that would’ve helped, how?”

“‘How?’” you repeat, as if it was the dumbest question you had ever heard. Mirroring his expression, your eyes avert between him and the river as scoffs of utter disbelief escape you. “‘How?’ What do you mean ‘how?’”

“I mean exactly that!” his voice suddenly escalates to a level of frustration you’ve never quite heard from him before. “How would it have changed anything? Why would you need to know earlier?”

Gawking, you exasperate desperately, “you know why!”

“No, I might be your best friend but don’t expect me to just read your mind!”

“It’s cause...” you swing your leg over the ledge to face the sidewalk with your back on Jin as soon as you could feel an incoming constriction at the back of your throat, a notorious sign shared just between the two of you that waterworks were about to appear. Breathing slowly and doing just about everything to keep your voice from shaking, and fruitlessly so, you mumble before standing to your feet, “...you know what? I don’t even know anymore. I’m sorry. Nevermind.”

Why did you ever think you would have a chance?

Is this it? Is this really it? The end?

The questions come crashing into you as you make your retreat, head hanging low and palms drying the inconvenient tears that mark your face. After all the confidence you had built up, after finally thinking—actually, believing—you could get over him tonight, how humiliating is it that you’re now running away from a reality that would eventually and inevitably engulf you?

The worst part of it is, Jin, like the best friend and good man that he is, persists to chase after you. You don’t have to hear the quickened footsteps of his usual wide, well-paced strides to know he’s coming. You don’t have to hear the calls he makes on the top of his lungs for you to know he’s on his way.

As someone who so helplessly fell in love with their best friend, you just know he would be there through thick and thin—whether you like it or not.

“Y/N!” Jin hollers; and when he finally catches up to you, having to sprint and consequently inciting for you to surrender with an abrupt stop to your path, every bit of air is knocked from your lungs. Arms wrapping over your waist and enveloping you into a tight hug, you can feel his heart pounding against your back.

To most, it should have been the perfect method to comfort a crying friend; so, damn it, why does it only make you cry harder?

“What?” your voice cracks as you just barely manage to smear the following tears within the wrap of his bear hug. “Damn it, Jin, why can’t you leave me alone for once?”

Head resting on yours, his voice is muffled by your hair as he murmurs, “I can’t just leave my best friend crying like that. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry.”

He embraces you. He embraces you not only physically through the silence but also through the emotional rollercoaster that comes with it. He, Kim Seokjin, your best friend, holds you through the ups and downs and the rights and the wrongs. He even holds you now, comforting you in the hurricane that you brewed without ever knowing and never caring that he had, in fact, not committed any wrongdoing. If anything, you must be in the wrong.

And when you put it that way, how could you blame yourself for falling in love with him?

“Jin… I’m sorry, I tried everything to stop myself but,” your voice shakes but your courage prospers, “but I just, I just really, really love you.”

A second passes.

Now, two.

Then, three.

Something strikes against your chest when the surreality of the situation settles into reality. His silence could mean many things, but the tightening of his embrace could only mean one. Blood flushes your cheeks as you lament over his sensation of your fervent heartbeats. Secrets thrown out into the spring air, your heated cheeks are equally exposed to the passing, chilly zephyr.

He knows you love him. At this moment, he can physically feel the proof of your love and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Sorry,” you manage to blurt under your breath, “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said—”

—the remaining words dissipate into thin air when he places his hands firmly on your shoulder and whirls you around. Face just inches away from his, you barely catch wind of his declaration before the unthinkable occurs…

“Too late. I don’t want to.”

...and his lips meet yours.

It’s everything you have ever imagined. Years of admiring those plush lips, wondering what it would be like to feel the warmth of those wonders pressed against yours, are finally coming to fruition… except they don’t. His hands fall from your shoulders to the small of your back, but your hands don’t intertwine behind the back of his neck like you imagined. Instead, they hover in midair, hesitant to embrace him in your arms. Why? With your eyes and his fluttered closed and an audible deep sigh that signals a desire finally satisfied from the both of you, reality still manages to twist a dream-come-true.

Does he actually love you or does he only pity you?

Finally, and ever so suddenly, your hands firmly push against his chest to plant an arm’s distance from you and him.

“Sorry…” you pant, avoiding those intense eyes. “We… we can’t do this.”

“What?” Jin raises a brow, taking a step forward as you take one back. “Why not?”

Wordlessly, you point at his ring finger.

“Oh,” he chuckles nervously, hand scratching the back of his neck. You can only watch his every move, your stare gradually becoming a glare. Rosy hues coloring his cheeks, he speaks sheepishly, “I forgot we’re in public.”

His nonchalance irks you to your core. There isn’t any other way to put it. Blithe and dense have always been your favorite traits of his, but now that he’s here? Planting buds he could never sustain and sending mixed signals despite knowing of your feelings in an unfitting circumstance were never things you knew Jin for.

“I-I don’t get it, Jin,” you shake your head. “I don’t think we should see each other any more. In any context. Not even after the wedding.”

With his hands buried into his pockets and shoulders high enough to hide his reddened ears, he glances up at you, alert. “What? Why? What don’t you get?”

“It’s ‘cause... I just don’t get… this. I don’t get us,” you articulate, struggling to find the right words. “Why are you so… nonchalant about this? Why are you kissing me? Is it out of pity? Is it because I said I liked you—”

“—Y/N,” he says lowly like the drop of his previously cheerful mien, “you know I would never do something like that.”

“Then why?! Why are you doing this to me? Do you love her or not?” you pause for a second to stifle the crack in your voice but, alas, all is in vain. “...and do you even… love me?”

He frowns, the tension in his body evident by the knitting of his brows as he struggles, “I… Y/N...”

“So you can’t admit that you love her and you can’t even lie to say you love me. So why the hell are you throwing away an entire marriage just to kiss me?” your scoff comes out more so like a plea. “You’re confusing me, Jin—”

“—that’s,” he abruptly pauses to stop himself from exploding, taking a deep breath before continuing, “that’s exactly why I can’t say it, Y/N! I don’t want to confuse you. I don’t want to disappoint my father. I-I don’t want to complicate matters more!”

“Then why the hell did you kiss me?!”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know! It was a spur of the moment! I couldn’t stop myself from chasing after you and when I hugged you—I-I just wanted to, alright? I’m sorry.”

He’s... sorry.

Sorry for kissing you, sorry for acting as if your feelings had been reciprocated, sorry for breaking all the promises he made and pretending like he was going to patch things up again tonight. Speaking your mind and hearing his words are all that you need to finally understand what you need to do. Your heart drops but you hold your head high because your final verdict is the right thing to do. Maybe this time you’ll finally be able to cease these useless feelings. What's the point in pursuing a hopeless love?

The only one you would be hurting is yourself.

This epiphany, in itself, is enough to drape an ephemeral clarity over your frenzic self; and just like a bandaid over a scar, you’re able to function, if only just temporarily.

“Hey, Jin?” you call out softly to the boy kicking at nothing on the bare sidewalk. It’s hard not to melt under the delicate glance he throws over his shoulder. “I’m not… mad. Well, I kind of am. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry for everything that I said about your upbringing. I know how close you are to your family. I’m sure you’ve been under a lot of pressure…”

“No, Y/N,” he shakes his head, turning his body to face you with a low hanging head, “it’s my fault. Even considering all that, I still shouldn’t have done that or any of this. I… I’m sorry for confusing you.”

Forcing a composed smile, you persevere, “do you have your fiance’s number?”

Head lifting with a frown, he answers, “yeah, what kind of a fiance would I be if I didn’t? Why though?”

“Right,” you say to yourself under your breath, hearing his ‘fiance’ echo relentlessly in your head. “I just need it, okay? To… to sort out everything...”

And just when you wonder how insensitive could this boy get...

“What?” he chuckles. “Are you going to fight for me?”

...it gets worse.

Rolling your eyes, you give him a hard, well-deserved slap against the chest before snickering at his loud wince and declaring your one last confession of the night.

“No, I could fight for us, but I won’t singlehandedly fight for you,” you then declare with a bitter smile, “I will, however, tell her how jealous I am.”

And that's your most irrefutable confession, one that has Jin stupefied for the future midnights to come.

❀ ❀ ❀

Morning arrives much sooner than you had anticipated. White puffs mark the air whilst you wrap yet another layer of scarf around your neck. It seems as though the breeze from a night ago had intentionally danced around town, lingering and spectating on the resolution of your five year long love conundrum. Ironically enough, the two of you reunite at the very spot where everything had first started… except this time, everything will finally end.

The pain he had marked in you inflicted by the words he could not bring himself to say still stains your every waking second.

“You have to do this. You can do this,” you incessantly chant to yourself, pacing back and forth beside the most prominent cherry blossom tree in town. “You have to do this. You can do this—”

“—Y/N, is that you?”

What you presume to be Youngji’s voice perks your ears. Looking up, you spot her holding a phone in her hands as she flickers between you and her screen. A quizzical quirk of the brow plasters across your face as you wave at her and she jogs over to you as quickly as she could in that pink, wool poncho and those tan, fluffy boots. “Hey, Youngji, right?”

“Yeah,” she says in between each pant of breath, “that’s me.”

Her hands immediately find refuge on her knees whilst she bends over to catch her breath. Typically, you’re the very self-aware type, but there isn’t anything you could do to stop yourself from staring. The girl strikes you as… flamboyant. With her dark red pigtails, bright smile, and dainty attire, she’s everything you’ve always imagined a female version of Jin would be like. It’s hard not to wonder… maybe an arranged marriage really can be a match made in heaven, but you force yourself out of that rabbit hole before having another breakdown in front of an innocent stranger.

The tang of jealousy, however, refuses to budge.

“Sorry, for,” she pants, holding her hand up to show you her phone screen, “calling out to you like that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you squint at the sight of the screen displaying a candid photo of you, taken on this very street on that very day, as you stuffed one of his breads in your mouth. Drawn on your face is a mustache and a unibrow. “Did Jin do—”

“—Jin gave me a terrible reference photo.”

Scoffing, you cross your arms, “damn it, Jin.”

Youngji crackles into a firework of uncontrollable laughter, rendering you stupefied. After a literal minute passes by, she finally manages to speak in between the bursts of giggles that follow, “you two—” giggle “—really are—” giggle “—close, huh?” And as a grand finale, she slaps her stomach with a loud sigh of relief that her laughs have come to an end. When she notices you staring at her bewilderedly, a light bulb flashes through her as she gasps and feigns a whimper, “o-oh! Ow! M-my baby!”

“You know you don’t have to pretend, right?” you can only let out a laugh of disbelief because you still can’t take in the mirror image your best friend. “Jin already told me about the fake pregnancy.”

“Oh, in that case,” she smiles widely before giving her stomach one more big, satisfying slap, “see, you guys really are so close!”

“I… I guess. I’m not sure if taking me out for one day after five years of radio silence really counts as close, though,” you then quickly add in with raised hands, “he only did so out of obligation, though! I swear it was nothing more!”

“Hmmm?” she hums, leaning in a curious ear with a cheshire-like smile. “Is it because of those promises he made?”

“...yeah, wait, he told you about those?”

Of course he did, idiot, they’re engaged.

“Well, something like that,” she shrugs, “so how much did he tell you?”

“About?”

“About the wedding, silly!”

“Uh, nothing much really. The pregnancy was a false rumor, the marriage was arranged by his father…”

“Father?” she inquires, watching you closely with those big, round eyeballs of hers.

“Yes?” you hesitantly nod. “Father?”

“Ah,” she nods, as if she finally catches drift of something, “I see.”

“Oh yeah,” you add, “I also found out it’s on my birthday.”

“What?!” her eyes grow wider, if they even possibly can. “Jin never told me that! What the heck, man? A wedding? On his best friend’s birthday?!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know right?” you nod passively before coming to an abrupt stop. “Wait, what? Why does it matter to you?”

“Of course it matters to me! You’re Jin’s best friend, aren’t you? You have no idea how much he talks about you back home. I know you so well that sometimes I feel like you might be my best friend,” she chimes before reaching out to cup your hands in hers. “Let’s celebrate properly with Jin after the wedding, okay?”

“Um, sure…”

But you don’t exactly plan on unnecessarily sticking around his life for any longer than the wedding… except, seeing how close she must be with Jin in addition to her loose-lip impression, you decide not to tell her that.

“So,” she drops her hands to the side, “what did you need to tell me?”

Why did you call her to meet you here again? After witnessing her flamboyant entrance, it’s hard for you to keep yourself from derailing.

“Oh, um,” you scratch the back of your head awkwardly, “I just wanted to meet my best friend’s fiance, that’s all.”

“Ahhh, I see.”

The woman pauses, nodding at you intently almost as if waiting for the real intentions to be revealed. Damn it, either you’re a literal open book or she reincarnated from the same soul as Jin’s.

“So…” you purse your lips. “Are you okay with it? The arranged marriage, I mean?”

“Well,” she shrugs, finally dropping the smile from her lips. “At first I hated the thought of it. I felt like I didn’t really have a choice, but… when I met Jin—” a smile is hinted in the corner of her lips and in the sparkle of her eyes “—I thought ‘I’m pretty lucky girl, aren’t I?’ I think the world must have finally taken pity on me.”

A soft, stifled laugh slips from you as your eyes fall to the ground and a bittersweet smile accompanies your lips, “yeah, you’re pretty lucky.”

“Don’t get me wrong though,” your eyes immediately shoot up to find her raising defensive hands, “it wasn’t some sort of a love at first sight. He’s handsome, sure, but—”

“—a marriage is a lifelong commitment—”

“—exactly,” she sighs, “I didn’t really know him, but when I was forced to spend time with him… I thought if I had to get married, then he would be the best option. He’s not a bad guy.”

“No,” you smile in your reverie, shaking your head, “he's not a bad guy at all; and when you really get to know him, his stupid dorky self, I think it’s impossible not to fall for him.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s mean when he jokes around but he’s actually very kind, he’s sensitive when you poke him where it hurts but he hides it deceptively well, he’ll apologize for being wrong when the both of you clearly know you’re in the wrong, he’ll cook and wear the hottest pink clothes he can find because ‘to hell with societal norms,’ he’ll tell you the dumbest dad jokes but I promise you’ll get used to them eventually, ” you let out a reminiscent laugh that comes out more like a sigh, “and, sometimes, very rarely, he’ll hurt you unintentionally, of course, but he’ll always go out of his way to make it up because that’s just… that’s Jin. That’s my best friend.”

A breeze passes by to perfectly mark the end of your cadence. Branches rustle above you and freshly budded cherry blossom petals flutter their way toward the grass underneath the two of you only to be risen once again by a following zephyr. Having been there throughout his and your lives, it’s almost as if the long-standing tree is agreeing to attest to your words.

“Wow,” Youngji finally says after witnessing your truthful albeit embarrassing spoken love letter, “I… I wouldn’t doubt any of it… but why are you telling me? Shouldn’t you be telling Jin?”

“I’m telling you, because,” you emphasize, “because I'm jealous of your position but I can't do anything about it so I want you to take good care of Jin. I just… I need to know he’ll be in good hands. I want him to be loved like the way that he loves. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

Youngji just nods. It’s the most somber response you’ve ever seen from her. Almost like the joining of hands in marriage has finally become reality.

“Do you…” you struggle to squeeze out of the knot in your throat, “do you love him…?”

“Y/N—” she begins but suddenly lets go of whatever she must have had planned “—yes, yes I do.”

“And… you’ll take care of him?”

Youngji bobs her head lightly, “yes, I will.”

“Promise?”

“...promise.”

“Okay, then I’m entrusting him to you, and,” you smile, leaning forward to shake her hands before heaving one last sigh, “and this time, please keep the promise.”

❀ ❀ ❀

A curse sinks into the thickness of the sapphire dusk that quickly descends upon the hushed city. Keys tinkle to decorate the silence of tonight’s resting wind, a silence that would have been accompanied by an equally passive woman and an oblivious man whose hands persist to fumble to his guest’s dismay.

Standing before a small willow, vintage-looking store tucked away in the corner of downtown, an inaudible breath ascends a cloud of white that momentarily shrouds the grand interior peeking from spotless windows that line the exterior. Golden warm studio lights illuminate the gorgeously exquisite ivory gowns from the trailing trains up to its waterfalls of dainty veils. Velvet suits and satin neckties accompany each headless mannequin, welcoming each passerby to imagine themselves in their wildest fairytales… your hand in his and his in yours as a fleeting moment becomes a sealed promise of a lifelong loyalty.

Breath completely taken away, you, yourself, almost fall prey to your own far-fetched dreams.

“I thought I said we shouldn’t meet up anymore,” your forced mutters drag you from your short-lived reveries, “why did you bring me here?”

“You said we shouldn’t meet up anymore, yet here you are,” Jin chirps before cheering to himself under his breath once the key finally clicks into place, “yes! Old man must have purposely given me these rusty old keys.”

Crossing your arms, you retort, “I came because you said your close friend from home would be here, too.”

Turning around to face you with his back to the door and a hand on the golden knob, he raises a quizzical brow, “and… are you not my close friend from home?”

“I thought you meant the other—”

“—this is my home, Y/N,” he says firmly, looking straight at you, “and I want my best friend to see me in my wedding suit before anyone else.”

“But why me…?”

“Because I only care about your opinion.”

He answered without hesitation, but in your head you figure he must have forgotten about Youngji, the true spotlight of the show.

Gritting your teeth, a staredown begins between the two of you; but the longer you face those unequivocal looks of determination in his eyes, the hotter your cheeks become in the middle of a contrastingly chilly night.

“Alright, fine.”

“Thanks,” he gives you a small, lopsided smile before pushing the door open with his back and ushering you in with a slight bow, “ladies first.”

Your eyes roll but not for very long when you step foot into the store and your mouth falls agape. The ceiling is much higher than you had perceived from outside, the sides are lined with grand, wooden staircases that lead to a second floor where hundreds upon hundreds of white dresses and black suits find purchase along the hangers, and the click of your heels against the marble tiles of the entrance floor echo into the extravagant expanse.

The wooden insulation of the store proves infallible when the door closes behind Jin and the shrewd air leaves you to a much more bearable surrounding. Standing affixed to the entrance, you watch as Jin strides toward the carpeted floor where a taupe curtain hanging from the ceiling drapes over a raised platform sits across its partner platform in the opposite of the room.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so enraptured by something aside from me,” Jin chuckles as he begins stripping the suit off of a black, velvety mannequin before pointing at the mannequin standing beside the opposite platform, “oh, why don’t you try on some dresses while I’m at it?”

“What?” you scoff, finally taking a step onto the carpet. “First off, I never stared at you like that before. Second, why the hell would I do that? It’s your wedding, not mine.”

“I asked the store owner for permission and picked a dress for you to try on,” he continues, finally stopping in the midst of unbuttoning his white, collared shirt when he looks up to find the fear in your eyes. “Hey, haven’t you always wanted to try one of these?”

“Yeah,” you laugh in disbelief because he actually listened to your past rambles, “but never under these circumstances.”

“C’mon, you never know if you’ll ever have a chance like this again,” he gestures once more when he notices the start of your contemplation, “c’mon, go on!”

You really don’t want to. It’s that nagging feeling of something going completely wrong tonight if you were to succumb and let yourself go. After all, your worst fear is yourself. It doesn’t feel right and you begin to wonder if it’s alright for you to hold onto this moment you’ve always dreamed about: dolling up and swearing your vows side by side with Jin.

If you were to live out your fairytale, just for tonight, would you finally be able to sleep dreamlessly at night?

“...fine,” you groan and storm across the room, tossing your purse into the ruby sofas and stepping onto the platform. Turning around to face a gleeful Jin, you’re about to scowl at him until your eyes flicker between the cheeky grin on that youthful face and those sculpted abdomen of his elevated by the lighting above. Cheeks flushing red, you gulp at the unseen sight before clutching the curtain in your hands and swinging it closed with a mumble, “and at least have some decency and use the curtains, God damn it…”

The freezing touch of your hands doesn't hold a candle to the heat of your face. Trying to calm your racing heart, you curse to yourself at the way he merely cackles at you and, even worse, the way your heart intensifies in response.

“Yes, ma’am!”

“...shut up,” you say more to yourself and your deafening heart.

The gown standing before you, however, is no help to your case either, for when you glance over the dress, the long train that could awe an entire room, the complimenting silhouette that doesn’t scream too over-the-top but enough to fulfill the little girl within you, and the classic lace sleeves that you’ve gushed over whilst skimming through magazines, you realize Jin had always been attentive even when he was stuffing his face with bread or even when he was being petty over an argument and you tried to rectify with incessant small talk.

It’s at this moment that you acknowledge the rabbit hole you had just willingly fallen into and the impossibility of its towering escape.

“So,” Jin calls out to you as the sound of rustling clothes fill the silent air, “what do you want for your birthday tomorrow?”

“My birthday? Oh, right,” you slam palm to your forehead, having dwelled over the marriage and consequently forgetting your own birthday. “Uh, nothing really. I haven’t really thought about it this year.”

“Really? You? Y/N? Not planning her own birthday?” he gasps. “Who are you and what did you do to Y/N?”

“Oh, shut up. With age comes other problems to deal with...”

...problems like you.

“C’mon,” he chuckles. “You have to have something. You can’t tell me you’ve gotten every single thing checked off of that old ‘birthday gift ideas’ list you gave me.”

“I mean… I wouldn’t say I’m very far from it and it’s not like you were actually going to give me everything I asked for. Say, what did I even have on that list?” your eyes wander to the towering curtains that envelop you as your hands reach behind to the buttons on your back. “A bowl of your tofu soup, some pocket money, a matching sweater, a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a… ring.” The word slips from your lips and it floats in the stagnant air before you can even do anything about it. His silence rings in your ears, so you quickly add in, “but I don’t want materialistic stuff like that anymore.”

“...oh, really?”

“Nope,” you heave a heavy sigh and pat the poofy material of the skirt down, “I think I’ve come to realize that… I just want to be loved. I don’t need a dress or a necklace or a ring… you wouldn’t understand, but I don’t just want to hear those words. I want to feel them. I want to be loved.”

But only by him.

A lingering silence drifts long enough for you to start panicking until, finally, he answers, “no, I understand.”

“...well,” you quickly chirp as you fumble with the lacey material of your dress, “enough about me, what do you want for your big day, hm?”

“Why would I need a present from you?” he remarks. You can hear him finishing his final touches and you can barely stop your heart from leaping out of your chest. “You’ve given me enough already.”

“You mean I’ve given you enough earfuls and tears,” you retort, clutching onto the curtains as you shut your eyes to muster every courage within you. “Isn’t there anything I can give you? Anything you want?”

Counting down to yourself, the curtains and drawn open in one, swift swing; and when your eyelids flutter open, you find him standing on the platform across from you, dressed in a classic black and white suit with the curtains clutched in his hands like a mirror image of you. He glances over you from head to toe, as you do to him, until the both of you settle in each other’s gazes for what seems like an eternity, willingly lost and ever-so-enraptured.

You almost forget this isn’t actually your wedding.

“This,” he answers with a soft smile, “this is enough.”

“...stop it.”

JIn frowns, “stop what?”

“Stop… looking at me like that,” you articulate, hands covering your bashful grin. “It’s making me feel self-conscious.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I have such a good eye at picking clothes for you!” he says whilst pointing an accusatory finger. “I guess 22 year old Jin had a pretty good sense of fashion after all.”

“You picked this five years ago…?”

The man shrugs but his high chin says otherwise regarding his humility, “I told you Kim Seokjin is a prepared man of his word.” Eyes peering across to wink at you, he continues a bit more seriously, “I might not be able to fulfill all of our promises, but this is the closest I can to it.”

“Jin… you’re…” you laugh in disbelief, bashfully avoiding his intent gaze, “...you’re so incredibly stupid that I can feel it from all the way here.”

“Oh, yeah?” he grins mischievously and takes a step toward you and off the platform. “How about now?”

“Stop it, don’t spread your stupidity to me.”

He spreads his arms out wide whilst taking another few steps forward, “why not? Aren’t we supposed to be together through thick and thin?”

“No, not really,” you adamantly shake your head amidst a hysterical fit of giggles, “don’t come any closer.”

“Oh, no,” he feigns worry. Another footstep. “I can’t stop myself.” He approaches even closer. “The stupidity is spreading!”

With him just a footstep away, you cower behind the shield of your hands, “stop it, stop looking at me like that—”

—and just as you squeal, his arms wrap around you to pull you into a tight embrace.

Like two lost puzzle pieces, his hands fit perfectly in the small of your back and his chin rests comfortably in the crook of your neck. His hair grazes against your burning cheeks. His scent envelops you into a rosy haze. He could probably feel the beat of your chest against his, but you wouldn’t know when you’re preoccupied by the thuds of his own. You had never been aware of the lonesome emptiness you’ve felt all these years until now, under the warmth of his touch that completes your other half.

You almost forget to breathe until he takes a deep breath and lets out a slow, dreary sigh.

“You are so beautiful.”

Under any other circumstances, you would have smacked him for lying. Perhaps it’s the stir of the starry skies or the impending occasion or even the look he made on his way to you with a gaze that oozed with absolute adoration, but something tells you he’s being his genuine self tonight… and that’s what you fear the most.

“You shouldn’t be saying that, Jin,” you say, stroking his head buried in your shoulder, “and you shouldn’t be looking at any women but Youngji with those eyes.”

Whether he’s quietly reflecting or stubbornly disagreeing, Jin remains silent. His breath entangles with yours, syncing with the wavelengths that you two have been running for an ongoing seven years and, perhaps, beyond.

He frustrates you to your wits’ end. There’s nothing he hasn’t made you question. At times, when you’re tossing and turning in bed and hoping for a way out of that cavern of a mind, you wish time could skip to a year in which the voices no longer haunt you at night; and yet, when you’re here buried in his arms, you would do anything to freeze and relish this fragment in time.

It isn’t right. You two aren’t right and you know it isn’t right… but how do you deny yourself of the cure to those deep scars when he, himself, wishes to be downed?

It takes everything in you to finally drop your hands from his locks to his shoulder. Just as you’re about to deny the tempting elixir, Jin lifts his head along with his gaze that now meets yours, “Y/N, I have something I need to tell you.”

“...y-yeah?”

The windows to his soul twinkle underneath the dim chandeliers above. Those starry dark brown eyes simply take your breath away.

“My dad,” his voice quivers like the water that wells in his eyes; and when you know he’s about to bawl, you pat his head ever-so-endearingly. Gulping, he finds the courage to continue, “he’s sick.”

“Oh... oh, Jin,” you murmur, quickly wiping the few tears that drop onto his flush cheeks before bringing him into another tight embrace. “I’m sorry.”

“I only moved—” and that’s what cracks his buoyant front into a full on bawl “—I only moved to take care of him!”

“I understand.”

He shakes his head, “I didn’t want to abandon you!”

“No, Jin, I know,” your voice is buried underneath his whimpers, “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t know things would turn out like this!” he cries, holding you even closer. “I didn’t know!”

“It’s okay, Jin. Really, it’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

“No, it won’t be okay,” his voice hitches in the midst of his hiccups, “my father is dying and now I’m walking down the aisle with a woman I don’t even love!”

Your strokes come to a temporary stop because how could fate be so twisted? Who is it to decide whose time shall begin and whose time is up? You have to hold your breath along with the waterworks that sour your eyes. You can’t cry now. He needs your stability.

He needs you.

“Did you…” you take a shaky breath, leaning back to watch him cover the messy state of his face, “did you tell your dad?”

“I-I couldn’t,” he stutters, voice muffled by his voice, “you know how long he’s been waiting for this.”

I know,” you ponder for a second before hesitating to continue, “...why didn’t you consider me?”

“I—” his hiccup interrupts him as he roughly smears his tear-stained cheeks with his palms “—I thought you hated me. I didn’t think you would agree. I thought our promises were just a joke. But when you confessed that night, when you said you would fight for us—” his voice cracks again as he laughs at himself, eyes to the ground “—I thought damn, fuck, how did I mess up so hard? I should have fought for us. I’m so stupid—”

“—no you’re not—”

“—so fucking stupid!”

His self-reprimanding curse echoes in the room. Each of his demeaning scorns inciting a fiery justice in you.

“No,” you state, “you’re not stupid.”

Without the dignity to face you, his hands clenched into fist and he continues with bangs shrouding his sorrowful eyes, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I hurt you—”

“—no, Jin, you did not—”

“—I messed us up—”

“—no, Jin, look at me, hey, look at me,” you place a finger under his chin to lift his spirits until those bloodshot eyes of his find refuge in yours. Smiling, you speak, “see? I’m okay. So what are you apologizing for?”

“Aren’t you… mad?”

“Mad? No, silly,” you laugh, wiping another tear. “Sad? Maybe.”

“See—”

“—sad because I wasn’t there by your side when you needed me… and maybe a bit sad that I won’t be the one holding you like this tomorrow,” you apologize with a soft smile over the latter jab that incites a wince from the boy. “Why didn’t you tell me about your father?”

“I didn’t think it was that serious,” he hiccups, “and when I found out, I tried to call you but it didn’t go through.”

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he takes a deep breath to calm his high, “it’s not your fault.”

“And it’s not yours either,” you affirm, breaking out into a laugh when you take another look at his reddened eyes and dampened cheeks. “Look at you! Why are you looking like a mess on our wedding day, huh?! At least let us be ignorantly happy for one day!”

“What…?” he frowns whilst hastily smearing every last evidence of his breakdown on his face. The result is an equally red, irritated skin across his cheeks. “What’re you talking about? Kim Seokjin never looks like a mess… hey, what’re you laughing at?!”

“Look at your tie, idiot! What kind of a rich son are you if you can’t even tie it correctly? Come over here,” you say just as you grab the end of his necktie to pull him up onto the platform. With his necktie now at your eye-level, you begin to unravel whatever knot he had attempted. All the while, you can feel his gaze as he watches you do your thing, completely enamored. This time, it’s your turn to turn red. To distract yourself from the rising self-consciousness, you clear your throat, “call me whenever you’re going through a hard time, okay? I’ll give you my new number…”

The piece of fabric flails around into equally atrocious knots that Jin had previously created until you groan in frustration and disassemble everything. You had practiced this so many times while he was gone, foolishly believing it would come in handy the day he returned, but why does nothing ever work out the way you want it to?

“I swear it worked last time I tried…”

Your best friend just watches silently, chuckling as you wrap the fabric around your own neck this time; and when he speaks, much steadier like the Jin you have always known, he looks you directly in the eye. “Youngji told me about your guys’ conversation.”

“Huh?” you pause as soon as your embarrassing declaration of love begins reciting itself in your head, but not even the resumed work of your hands could distract you from the ever-growing shade of red. “O-oh, that… what about it?”

“I heard what you said about me.”

“Yeah?” you hum nonchalantly, even though the trembling of your hands and the avoidance of your eyes from his give you away. “Well, did she tell you about all the complaints I made, too? About you being a stupid dork?”

“She did,” he utters before placing a finger below your chin to avert your attention to those dazzling works you desperately avoided, “but would you still be willing to marry this stupid dork?”

“This isn’t even a real wedding,” you feign a frown under the spotlight of his intent gaze, “why are you asking me a question like that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t have the funds to hire a real priest.”

“You don’t need to for a fake wedding.”

“I thought you said we should be ‘ignorantly happy for one day?’”

The bantering just never stops, does it?

“Okay, well… to answer your question,” you mutter, eyes averting to the side, “under normal circumstances…”

“Under normal circumstances…” he repeats.

“Where you aren’t engaged…”

“Where I’m not engaged…”

“And your father approved of me…”

“And my father approved of you…”

“Then yes,” you say without hesitation, eyes returning to find a newfound comfort in his relieved gaze, “yes, I would marry you.”

“And that’s why I love you,” Jin smiles, chuckling softly. “I’ll always want to marry you.”

And just as a nearby clock tower strikes its church bells to signal the stroke of midnight, Jin grabs the end of your necktie and pulls you in to press his lips onto yours. The body of his warmth and the acceptance of an inevitable end to your paths serve as the last page of a book never to be read again; and yet, he holds himself close, refusing to let you go.

But when the end nears and the magic of the bells resume time once again, the two of you pull away to catch your breaths. Forehead against yours, Jin gives you one last, fleeting kiss.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Deja vu would be the perfect term to describe this feeling. You can almost see yourself in the room of hundreds, stealing glances at the man from afar. It only takes one blink for you to relive the rollercoaster of jubilance and confessions and tears. In the split second of darkness, the past week flickers before you like a film reel: breaking down in the middle of the hallway right in front of Jin, staring bewilderedly at the large bouquet in the hand of a man at the office, confessing with tears that stain your face and sobs that conquer your voice, meeting the woman who had stolen your spot beside Jin, and holding him in your arms as he cries his heart out at the stroke of midnight.

And just as quickly as the whirlwind of memories had taken you on a trek of time, your eyes flutter open to find yourself in another suffocating room of hundreds once again.

Youngji [8:39 P.M.] Hey Y/N do you think you can visit me real quick?

The glaring text on your phone screen glows in an otherwise dimly lit reception room. Thumb hovering over the screen, your mind goes blank. People pass by you, commotions and laughter fill every corner of the room, and you stand there frozen and affixed to the floor beside the table of food with a glass of red wine in your hands.

“Hey, Y/N,” someone whispers into your ear and you immediately turn your phone off only to find Alex on her tiptoes, “what’s the matter?”

“Oh, um, nothing,” you respond under your breath, “it’s just that someone wants to talk to me.”

“Well, you better hurry then,” she ushers you with a gripping hand on your left arm, “the ceremony is about to start anytime now.”

“O-oh, okay,” you nod, allowing your footsteps to follow the momentum of her push.

This isn’t exactly what you had planned, for the original plan involved your complete avoidance of the groom and bride, but it’s unsurprising that things never quite go your way. Nothing could quite topple you like last night’s revelation anyways. Taking a deep breath, you weave through the audience, wandering about the venue until you finally find yourself in front of a door with a “BRIDE WAITING ROOM” printed in gigantic black letters taped to it.

Hesitantly, you knock, “hello? This is Y/N…? Youngji called for me—”

“—Y/N!” The wooden door swings wide open with a highly distressed Youngji hiding behind it. Before you can reply or even confirm the identity of the woman, her hands clutch yours and pull you into the room with a force unimaginable for a human of her size. Practically lurching forward, a heap of air is knocked from your lungs just as the door slams closed. Coughs force their way through your throat, but Youngji wastes no time to rush to your side. “Y/N, this is an emergency! I need help!”

“W—” you wheeze, peering up at her as you’re doubled over “—what in the world are you talking about?”

“I don’t know,” her hands jitter as she paces back and forth, “I don’t know why I feel so… so nervous!”

“Hold on,” you frown, finally straightening your back, “that’s perfectly normal. It’s your wedding—”

“—please don’t say that word again,” she begins biting her freshly white-coated nails.

“What word? Normal? Wedding? Your—”

“—I can’t believe it’s my wedding…” she says repeatedly, hands flying to her head and disheveling her previously perfectly conditioned curls. She suddenly turns to face you, eyes wider than ever with a look that screams of an epiphany. “I-I don’t think I can go there. Y/N, I don’t think I can go out there!”

“What?!” you almost yell, flabbergasted. Recoiling from your outburst, you start much more softly this time. “Are you sure? I’m sure it’s just your nerves getting to you. You’ve been okay with it for at least a year, right?”

“Why?” her eyes widen to unprecedented diameters as she grabs your arm for support. “Is it because it’s too late? Do you think I should back out, Y/N?”

“What? No, no, no, calm down, follow me,” you shake your head, grasping her hand and guiding her to the chair in the center of the room where an entire photo shoot has been set up. Lowering yourself to a squat, you give her a squeeze as firm as the smile on your lips. “Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s just the jitters. Everyone gets them. I’m sure Jin is freaking out in his room, too.”

“...okay,” she nods, pouting as her eyes lower to your hands that hold hers. Peering up at her from below, you can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks dolled up on this special occasion. From the extravagant poof of her princess gown to the gorgeous glow of the bride herself, you find yourself lost in a trance that burns with heart-panging jealousy. You almost miss her when she murmurs, “how are you so calm, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you raise a brow and laugh. “Why would I be nervous? I’m not the one getting married here.”

“But… your best friend is getting married,” she shifts to get a clearer look of you but finds you with your eyes to the floor, “are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Of… of course. I’m happy for him,” you say through barely parted lips and stand to your feet before making your way to the door. “It’s not exactly traditional, but do you want me to get Jin? Maybe he can calm you down—”

“—do you know why Jin agreed to this arrangement?”

Freezing in your tracks, you throw a glance over your shoulder to meet her distraught gaze.

“Why are you asking me that now?”

“Because,” she blurts, clearly without thinking as words fail to follow through, “because I want your blessing! I want you to be okay with it!”

“Blessing...?”

“Yes,” she nods. “I can live with marrying a man I don’t love because I know I’ll come around, but I don’t think I can live knowing I’ve broken your relationship with Jin.”

Your weight shifts from your left to your right but the force of burden weighs immeasurably heavier on your very being. There’s nothing that would have prepared you for her request. Preparation, however, proves unnecessary, for your mind runs on its own and the words come to you as if rehearsal is all it's ever done.

“I don’t think I’m in the position to grant you permission. That’s your decision and Jin’s,” you say, “and if my blessing is what you’re asking for, then I can give you it as many times as it takes to convince you. But if you’re asking for me to be okay with it, then I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you that.”

Those are your last parting words as you slump on the wall behind you and a heavy sigh is shared between the two women on opposite sides of the door. Head low like a woman unjustly ashamed for speaking her truth, you take a deep breath with those heavy shoulders that carry the weight of a woman who had essentially cursed the joining of two hands. Nevertheless, somehow, you persist to make your way through the halls just as the ceremony begins; but as the audience settles and the light dims, something tells you the guilt that intoxicates your blood would have a longer-lasting aftermath than you had first expected.

“Hey,” Alex leans into you, whispering, “is it just me or does Jin seem really jittery?”

“...no,” you answer, making sure to keep yourself hushed amidst a room of seated spectators. From the second bench to the front, fortunately on the opposite side of where Jin’s parents sit in the front row, you get a clear view of Jin and Youngji in between the black silhouettes of a couple heads; but anyone in the room can tell the bright studio lights and elevated platform don’t help his constantly shuffling case. “I don’t think it’s just you.”

“I see… so both the groom and bride are getting cold feet, huh?”

“Well,” you utter, quipping, “in Jin’s case, he’d probably just say he forgot to sleep with socks on.”

Alex turns to you with sheer confusion across her furrowed brows, “huh?”

But before Alex could inquire further, the priest clears his throat and begins the opening ceremony. The officiality of it all, a long-dreaded image of Jin standing by another woman’s side manifesting into reality, has you subconsciously sent into a frenzy.

“Dear Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Kim Seokjin and Heo Youngji in matrimony commended to be honorable among all…”

The clearing of his throat strikes once and hard against your chest. Each word that reverberates in the room echoes the vibrating pain in the blood pumped from a gaping wound. Your chest heaves and heaves and your lungs struggle to maintain composure, and while your breakdown may have gone unseen by the rest of the universe, you know for sure only two would catch sight of your state.

You and him.

“...if there is any person who can show cause why they should not be joined together…”

The priest continues and the tension in the audience rises by the second of a stress-inducing prompt, but the moment Jin catches your eyes and the panic painted across it, his every attention remains on you. Guilt should’ve painted your expression now, having stolen the groom’s admiration from the rightful bride by his side, but all you can do is relish in a fleeting moment you deem the least this cruel world owed you.

Maybe he feels the same way, because something catches in your throat like the hunch that has chills running down the nape of your neck. You don’t dare move an inch. You fear any movement would give you away, though you’re sure he already knew the second he met you halfway.

His eyes, those dazzling eyes that could single-handedly freeze any moment in time, they ask you for a permission only he could grant.

“...let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

No one speaks but the thick air that engulfs every witness in the room is telling enough. Holding a shared, bated breath, everyone awaits and prays for the quick passing of this deafening silence. Your heart is pounding so hard you worry your passing out would be the one interruption to the ceremony, if not anything else. It takes everything in you to remain hidden, glued to the chair. You can hear every single movement in this room, the squeaking of a nearly retired bench, the rustling of clothes amidst a fidgeting audience, the anxious tapping of someone’s heels against the wooden floor, yet no one dares to speak now.

The priest sighs a soft breath of relief.

Everyone but you follows along.

The priest clears his throat and pro—

“—I would like to speak.”

A loud gasp travels across the room. Every witness, including the priest himself, stares at the young man, wide-eyed. The knot in your throat inhibits you from following suit, but the hammer against your chest works harder than ever; because there he is, your best friend, standing boldly before the audience with a puffed chest and a tightened fist that brace for the repercussions.

It all happens so suddenly, so swiftly. The strings that were left raveled now unraveled, the paths that were abandoned now explored, and the love of a lifetime whomst once bid you farewell now holds on with a determination that tells you they aren’t quite ready to let go, by happenstance or by conviction, everything falls into place.

You had reprimanded yourself relentlessly for envisioning a moment like this and you truly believed this would be the worst case scenario, so why is it that only now, as your peering eyes are enamored by the sparkles in his, you find yourself smiling proudly and thinking to yourself… that’s your man.

“Father, mother,” Jin turns to face his parents in the front row, declaring loudly and firmly, “I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love.”

“What,” Alex shrills under her breath as she clutches your hands, “what is going on, Y/N?!”

Her voice doesn’t reach you and neither do her cold, nudging hands. The ongoing commotion around the room are like white noise in your background. You can’t even spare a second of your attention to the picturesque vision before you, the man who fights not for you but for the two of you.

Jin bows, head hanging low to his parents and the audience, “I’m sorry for saying this too late.”

Everybody watches as his mother attempts to hold her husband in place. All is in vein, however, when one look of the baffled expression on her husband’s face conveys enough to everyone of the mayhem that is soon to ensue. He rips her grip apart from his arm and storms to his feet, pointing a finger at his apologetic son.

“W—” he struggles to find his breath “—what are you saying? You said you were okay with this just last week!”

“I did,” Jin affirms with his head still hanging low, “I thought I was okay with it until this week.”

“How—”

“—honey…” the mother murmurs.

“No, changing your mind is one thing, but changing it at the very last second is another,” his father shakes his head, yanking his hand and stumbling on his feet before his distraught son could lend a helping hand. “Did I teach you to inconvenience others like this? Do you know how much trouble you’re causing Youngji and her family?”

“I do,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

His father grunts, “don’t you see, Seokjin? ‘Sorry’ can’t fix everything—”

“—actually, Mr. Kim, it’s not just Jin,” Youngji bounces to Jin’s side then pivots to bow to her parents who sit in the row before you, “I, too, don’t want to marry anyone until I really know them.”

Physically, the spotlight remains affixed to the stage. Mentally, it feels as though everyone’s attention is gradually creeping its way toward you. It takes everything in you and the grip of Alex’s hands not to run from the prying eyes.

“What?” their parents gasp. “Didn’t you say you were okay with it if it were Jin?”

“I did!” she insists, suddenly retracting. “I did, until…”

“I’m sorry,” Jin lifts his head to turn to Youngji’s parents before bowing once again, “this is all my fault.”

“No, no, you wouldn’t do this... tell me, son,” his father takes a step toward the stage, beckoning for an explanation, “tell me who did this to you?”

Jin lifts his head, brow furrowing and lips thinning as he chooses to remain silent to his father’s question. Suddenly, it’s everyone’s duty to catch the perpetrator. The audience begins craning their neck every which way to skim over the possible candidates. Your heart sends threatening waves of pain that foreshadow the inevitable chaos you’re about to be dragged into.

You can barely move from staring at the floor in between the groom and bride but you can spot the gradual direction of his mother’s eyes making its way toward you… and when they finally spot you, a lightbulb flashing across her eyes the second you make the lethal mistake of meeting her gaze for the first time in many years, it’s as though her son’s rebellion is the only thing that makes sense in this universe.

Only naturally, his father catches onto his partner’s maternal instincts along with the rest of the crowd as their diverged attention converges, one head turning after another, to stare you down—some with awe plastered across their jealous front, some with ghastly colors than drain their face of blood.

“Is that… you, Y/N?” his father’s voice echoes in the room. “Seokjin, don’t tell me…”

“No, father!” Jin jumps in, holding up a defensive pair of hands as he attempts to quell the fiery in his father’s temper. Wide-eyed and panicked, he glances between you and his father. “It isn’t her fault. I swear. I”ll explain—”

“—don’t tell me you’re going through all this trouble for a childish crush from five years ago?”

A loud shriek began the chaos the second Jin’s father exploded, lurching forward with a vexing fist. Everyone in the front rows jump to their feet to hold him back, whereas people in the back rows stand to their tiptoes to get a better view of the climactic show, which includes a once-to-be-groom insisting his father punishes him and a once-to-be-bride slapping her ex-partner in the head for his submission.

People are hysterically laughing, crying, screaming, yelling, fighting, but you sit there, frozen and petrified, until a hand shakes your entire being to your feet.

“Y/N, Y/N, God damn it Y/N, earth to Y/N!” Alex raises her hand, just about to give you one hard slap to the cheek when you suddenly flinch awake. She then hastily pushes you toward the door in the corner of the room whilst everyone is too distracted to notice your discreet escape. She looks you directly in the eye, “you need to run before things get too crazy. I’ll handle things here for now.”

“But Alex, I’m at fault here—”

“—yes, I mean, maybe,” she corrects herself with the shake of her head, “but you being here doesn’t help matters. I’ll help Jin and Youngji.”

“But—”

“—now go,” she starts your momentum with an encouraging push, “go!”

Nodding, you begin your long trek of the night. You run and you run and you run. Your mind runs blank but your feet run a mind of its own. You sprint down the dimly lit streets, you pay no mind to the traffic lights of endlessly empty streets, and your hair twirls in the wind that impedes your speed down the hills. Your surroundings become a blur as your arms swing desperately, your chest heaves incessantly, your eyes sting with tears, and your lips spill anguished sounds of incoherency until somehow, under the sway of the town’s cold spring air and your flux of emotions, you find yourself in a familiar street of your greatest dreams.

Depleted of gas, your feet stumble into a trot that has your knee nearly buckling, which then turns into a jog that then drifts into an untroubled walk in which your lungs try to catch up and your mind is scrambling at a hundred miles per hour but you, yourself, have gone elsewhere.

The luminescence of the full moon is blinding but all the more soothing as you navigate your way through this street you’ve walked one too many times before. For some reason, perhaps out of habit or a hope for something waiting at the end of the tunnel, you begin to count each passing light post. Seven fluorescent lights, you count, seven lights resembling the rays of moonlight until you finally reach your old acquaintance of many years at the corner of the street.

Leaning your head back to stare at the familiar white text on a green sign post, you smile at the homely sight.

CHERRY BLOSSOM AVE

A comforting breeze blows by you, the branches above you rustle in the wind, and the cherry petals from your old pal flutter into the air to envelop you in a solace you had long sought but failed to obtain. It’s like the calm after a storm. Not quite disconnected from the string that loops around your fourth finger to those of another man’s—no, you couldn’t unravel it after all this heartache—but at least away from the prying eyes that could tear you apart and away from the people who whispered gossip of matters they had none in.

Hours seem to pass in the clouds that retire to reveal patches of new twinkling ornaments. You would have believed it if someone were to tell you all control of time lies within the blink of your eyes. The silence was calming initially; but the longer you stand here and the more the numbness begins to fade, the more you become aware of your lonesome circumstances.

The silence is deafening. It knows your greatest fears and your innermost thoughts. You can’t handle it. You can’t bear the thought of being left alone to that voice in your head.

You have to go.

Where?

You don’t know. You just know you have to go somewhere. You can envision all the places you can run to but all the roads lead you to one destination. Yes, anywhere would be fine, anywhere that leads you to him.

“This marks the second time you’ve ever been so enraptured by something other than me.”

Whirling around, seconds seem to become milliseconds and gravity becomes a law unbeknownst to earth, for you can’t believe the sight your eyes lay upon. There he is, standing by the tree just a few meters away with a loosened necktie and disheveled hair, almost as if a pitiful albeit wondrous mirage crafted by your shoddy prayers to the moon above.

“Hey dummy,” he simply utters, taking a step or two toward you before poking your forehead, “what? Why’re you staring at me like I’m a ghost?”

“What?” you manage to say under your breath. “I’m not staring…”

“I was just joking, you know?” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t be jealous over a street post. Psh, I’m not that dumb—”

“—why…” you frown when he quirks a brow, “why are you here? How are you here?”

“Oh no, she’s gone crazy,” Jin laughs at the stupefied look you give him. “At least an hour or two has passed since you left. Somehow, I managed to sit my father down and explain myself.”

“And… what did he say?” your hands begin fidgeting. “He must hate me, doesn’t he…”

“I wouldn’t say ‘hate,’ per se… he’s perfectly okay with you. In fact, he likes you, really. He’s just mad at how things happened. After he calmed down, though, he understood where I was coming from.”

Cautiously, you peek at those eyes that peer down at yours, “and your mother…?”

“She said she saw it coming from a mile away. Apparently she saw us arguing at the engagement party and knew right away,” Jin purses his lips. “Psh, yeah, as if I’m that easy to read.”

Allowing yourself the smallest of laughs, you still can’t seem to rid yourself of that panging guilt. “And… what about Youngji?”

Jin stares intently at your expression before cracking a smile and chuckling, ruffling your hair, “don’t go crying on me now, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.”

“But I just,” your voice cracks, “I just hate myself for ruining everything for everyone—”

“—hey,” he cups his fingers underneath your chin to lift your gaze to his, “you did not ruin anything for anyone. I did this. I chose to fight for us.”

Hesitantly, you nod and he smiles in response.

“Youngji’s still explaining to her family right now. She told me to find you and Alex told me you would probably here.”

Frowning, you mutter to yourself, “how did she know…?”

“Well,” Jin drops his hand from your chin to raise them in the air, “we did promise to swear our wedding vows here, didn’t we?”

“So what?” you deadpan. “You’re gonna marry me now after all this mess?”

“I know you really want to marry me as soon as possible, but I think I’m gonna have to take a break from weddings for now.”

Rolling your eyes, you mumble, “ditto.”

“But hey, I may have already broken the third promise,” one corner of his lips curve into an apologetic smile before he shrugs, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t marry you in the future! Plus, I may or may not have promised my father I would marry you in the near future to make up for it, so...”

Scoffing, you gawk, “and who said I would marry you?”

“Who wouldn’t marry me?!”

The two of you stare at each other in silence, but the mirrored grin that stretches across your lips are undeniable. Soon enough, a loud fit of giggles and cackles fill the air. It happens all too quickly. The banters come to you like second nature, the conversation flows like a river through time, and somehow you find yourself lying beside him on the blazer he had laid out on the grassy hill and star-gazing for hours on end.

It’s almost like you’ve seen this all before, just five years aged.

“So,” Jin speaks, “how’s your birthday been?”

“Oh, shut the hell up.”

“What?” he cackles, getting up to lean on his arm whilst hovering you. “You know it’s not too late to tell me what you want for your birthday!”

“I already told you,” you narrow your eyes at him, “I wasn’t joking when I said what I said.”

Jin smiles, “in that case…”

He leans in to diminish the distance between his lips and yours. A lulling zephyr blows gently on the cherry petals as you close your eyes and you can picture the way they gracefully descend upon the two lovers below. Having witnessed the unforeseeable promises from start to finish, it’s almost as though an old accomplice was applauding a long-awaited finale.

And when he finally pulls away, eyelids fluttering open just as yours do, he speaks, “happy birthday.”

“What was that for?” you giggle.

Jin’s mouth falls agape, “I’m giving you what you wanted for your birthday!”

“Well,” you purse your lips, “where’s my ring to confirm it then?”

“After all this time, do you really need a ring at this point to confirm my love for you?” Jin rolls his eyes. “You know I’ll always want to be by your side, married or not.”

A fit of laughs escape you as your hand reaches up to squeeze his cheeks, “I know, I know. I’m just joking.”

“Well, good, cause I’m bankrupt at the moment,” Jin sighs, plopping back onto the grass beside you. A momentary silence passes before he turns his head to look at you, “just to make sure, you said you wanted love, right?”

Turning to meet those sparkles in his gaze, you answer, “yeah?”

“You said you wanted to feel love, right?”

Your grin grows wider by the second, “yeah?”

“Well,” he says, “do you feel it?”

“I do,” you answer. “What about you? Do you feel it?”

The vows hold a truth much closer to his heart this time around, and he smiles as he swears...

“I do, too.”

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