#these three together is just golden tbh - all of them looking after one another an that aaa

[wooahaes]

feel me

pairing: non-idol!han x gn!reader, some non-idol!felix x gn!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending. slight fluff.

word count: ~21k

warnings: angst with a happy ending. mutual pining that’s fully believed to only be one-sided by both parties. temporary relationship with felix. heartbreak. no communication at one part after jisung ghosts reader for almost three weeks. big brother-figure chris having serious talks with reader. fluff in certain parts, though. food mentions. hyunjin is kinda ready to throw down at one point tbh.

daisy’s notes: title origin from the golden child song bc the lyrics kinda fit haha <3 anyway rewrite of this old thing!! also sorry felix but if u get the sequel fic i'm thinkin of... u will be happy <3

Most people looked at the friendship you had with Chris and assumed that he was your best friend. The two of you had grown up down the road from one another, after all, and that had been why you ended up befriending one another. His family all knew you by name and knew all of your favorites (because Chris had learned them first and made sure everyone knew them), and they all watched you follow Chris around like a duckling when you were small. Pictures of the two of you littered the walls of both your childhood home and his, all from vacations your families had taken together. Plus your parents always made enough food for Chris on any given day, since he always found his way over for dinner at the most random times. If anything, Chris was family to you now, the big brother you never had (and, occasionally when he was being a little overly affectionate, he was your big bother). Before college, Chris Bang was one-hundred-percent your best friend…

Until you met Han Jisung on the first day of freshman orientation.

Sure, the reason you came to this school was partially because you knew you’d have a friend in the area (you liked the literature program a lot more), but things changed the day you met Jisung. The two of you had been a little wary of the other people in your group, all bragging about how they wouldn’t let anyone stop them from the party life they were craving. On one hand, you kind of admired the tenacity that took… but on the other, they were the rowdy bunch out of all the groups that were around. Even though you weren’t much of a party person, your annoyance at the time firmly came from the fact you were sinking so much money into this school—even without the financial aid and scholarships you’d managed to get. Partying was fun, but denying everything in favor of it? You couldn’t wrap your head around it.

And, apparently, neither could Jisung. He’d been separated from his friends, all in the same orientation group without him, and looked a little lost. You quietly moved your chair over to him after you grew annoyed with two people hardcore flirting with one another and ignoring the poor orientation leader who was just trying to tell you all about the general education program. He’d looked up at you, and you introduced yourself to him quietly—trying not to catch the attention of your orientation leader. She was too busy waiting for the novelty of it all to die down for a minute so she could do her job, so… Why not take the chance to introduce yourself to him?

He’d gazed at you for a moment behind his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose a moment later. “Han,” he’d said in a quiet voice. Then he cleared his throat, speaking a little louder, “I’m Han Jisung. Music management and music composition major.”

Already, you were impressed by him. Chris was in the music program himself, and you’d heard about how rigorous it could be at times—especially with the heavy course load that came from both programs. Chris had gone into it because he was… Well, he was Chris. Chris who was on the swim team and in the theater and the band and somehow found time to do community service, too. Jisung was a stranger to you in all the best ways, someone who already intrigued you. When you told him your own major, he had nodded along, no push to question your future career.

“Is that what you like?” He’d asked instead. “Books?”

It was one part of what you liked, at least. You nodded. “Do you love music?”

He’d smiled at you, and it was as if he’d become a different person for a moment. “It’s my passion,” he’d said, voice clear and bolder than before.

That had been what the two of you ended up talking about until your orientation leader managed to get control of the group again. She’d finally been given the go-ahead to give you a tour of campus, and you noticed that Jisung had decided to stick with you near the back of the group. He never said anything then, the two of you opting to listen to your leader instead, but you saw the tiny smile on his face when you were walking through the music floor of the arts building. Once you were released from your schedule for the day, he’d kept glancing at you, as if unsure of what he was about to do. Then he finally stepped up, holding up his phone.

“My friends and I are getting coffee off campus,” he said. “Do you want to come?”

That had been the moment that solidified the two of you as friends. You had happily agreed, exchanging numbers on the way as he told you about his friends. There was Felix, who he said was a sweetheart. Everyone loved Felix, and you’d eventually realize in time just how true that was. Hyunjin could be charismatic, although sometimes he could be a little sharp-tongued with people. Apparently, he and Jisung once hated each other before getting over their school rivalry—you’d never understand it, but everyone swore by it. And then there was Seungmin, who was witty and funny in all the best ways. The group seemed to accept you into their circle pretty quickly, and you honestly contributed that to Jisung…

Who you very quickly learned was incredibly funny in his own right. With the orientation group and with you alone, he’d been quieter. Polite and sweet as he could be. Yet you saw the way he loosened up over time when with his friends, genuinely funny and a bit louder with them. Maybe that was why you would end up clicking with him so well: he was versatile, conscious of the mood and finding a way to fit it well. You saw the way he seemed to naturally return to a quieter state when on his own, and you were happy to match that energy any day. 

When you returned to your dorm that day, Chris had been waiting for you. He’d watched you part ways with your new friends and decided to celebrate by squeezing the life out of you.

“You’re making friends!” He giggled, and it suddenly reminded you of the loving way your step-mom always treated you. He swayed with you, never letting you go. “You’re growing up!” 

This was definitely something he was reporting to your parents. Not that you cared: his family asked for you to look out for him, too, and you fully intended to follow through on the request. He’d already been giddy when you showed him your acceptance letter and announced you’d picked the school (he’d nearly squeezed the life out of you that day, too), gushing about how he’d have to introduce you to Minho and Changbin. That was why he’d been waiting for you that day, actually: the four of you were getting dinner together, Chris’s treat. The two of you had decided to call off any embarrassing stories (both of you had plenty of ammunition, the same way that both of his siblings had even more on you both), and you’d spent that dinner realizing just how much love you had for Chris.

That was why you had agreed to live with him come sophomore year. Regardless of whether he was being a brother figure or a bother figure, you’d agreed quickly when he gave you his clearly premeditated offer of taking the open room in his apartment. His old roommate had just moved out, and Chris apparently told him he “already had someone interested” when he brought the topic up to begin with. So he helped you carry your boxes into the apartment and the two of you enjoyed your takeout that night, giddy to be close once again. He’d invited Minho and Changbin over that night, too, to toast to your first day of living with Chris. It was at that point that you decided to introduce Jisung to them, inviting him over, too. 

Things came together from there. Minho recognized Jisung from a photo that Felix had shown him while he (and Hyunjin) were sitting around before dance practice started. Seungmin ended up getting pulled into the group through association with the rest of you, and it was you and Seungmin who pulled Jeongin into this circle. He’d been in your general education classes, and he seemed to get along pretty well with Seungmin. Seungmin introduced you to Jeongin, and you introduced Jeongin to the group, and everyone seemed to fit together in this sweet way. Even with all of you having friends of your own, you always seemed to come back to one another when times were rough.

By some stroke of luck, Hyunjin and Seungmin ended up moving in a few doors down from you and Chris. Despite Seungmin’s very vocal complaints (always made with love… you were pretty sure, at least), both of them seemed glad to have familiar faces nearby. The two always seemed to drop in when Chris was making dinner, always telling some story about their own lives. You realized that your stories almost always had Jisung and Felix in them after Seungmin pointed it out to you one night.

When did you start spending so much time with Felix? Jisung was naturally there because he was your best friend (officially now: the two of you had matching beaded bracelets you’d made for one another just to rub it in). But Felix…

Chris had picked up on how quiet you’d grown that night. But he waited to bring the topic up until one Saturday when the two of you were alone. He’d passed you the bowl of popcorn he’d made once before throwing himself onto the other end of the couch. “So. You and Felix...” 

You rolled your eyes. Your love life had always been pretty off-limits as a topic to anyone but Chris, and he was fully going to take advantage of that, wasn’t he? He’d given you a few much-needed days to figure out how you felt, and they were… Well, far from platonic. Felix was sweet as he could be, and you’d become so, so endeared to him when he started showing up to your apartment with baked goods. Everyone loved Felix, and you weren’t sure when your love for Felix became more than what it was before. Long before senior year, that was certain: every time you tried to pinpoint a beginning, you found yourself moving it further and further back to something else he’d done.

“I’m just curious!” Chris chuckled. “You always deny feeling anything for Jisung—I should have known it was Felix the entire time!”

Despite having the urge to, you didn’t roll your eyes that time. Your feelings for Jisung weren’t important. Not when he was your best friend, and having them would jeopardize that. Han Jisung did not love you the way you’d begun to love him, and you were more than happy to ignore that crush. It’d go away eventually once you stopped fantasizing about what a relationship with him would look like. And if it didn’t… Well, you’d figure that out when you came to it.

“You should go for it,” Chris said, shifting so he was slightly closer to you. “Felix is a good kid! He’s nothing like the last guy you dated—”

Oh, not this shit again. There was a reason you hadn’t dated in a while, and Chris was too aware of it. He’d been ready to get into a fist fight and call your friends as back-up. “Christopher—”

He ignored the use of your birth name, “I mean it. That guy was gross, and you deserve better than someone who thinks you should move in with them after a few weeks because living with a guy you aren’t dating is ‘weird.’” 

That had only been part of the reason you dumped the guy. You’d never told Chris any other parts because you knew what he’d say. Your ex hated Jisung because of how close the two of you were, and you weren’t going to date some insecure loser who thought he could control who you hung out with. He’d always been “fine” with the rest of your friends (begrudgingly so), but he’d targeted Jisung for some reason. Jisung was always too close to you, or he was too soft when around other people, or he was “obviously” in love with you and you were too blind to see it. If you’d let him take Jisung out of your life, you knew he’d eventually move on to someone else. It’d be Jeongin, and then Felix, and then Hyunjin… It had taken a while for you to realize it and accept it, but it was just a gateway for him to control you and your life. When you ended things with him, you told him he needed to grow the fuck up because you’d never ask him to do the things he was pressuring you to do. 

When you told Jisung that same day that you broke up with him, he’d watched you curiously for a minute. When you didn’t cry or say anything further, he smiled at you and asked if you wanted to celebrate. Jisung had treated you out for dinner that night, telling you about how he’d always thought you could do better. That guy hadn’t respected you enough to trust you, and all he could do was hope that he would eventually change for the better. It wasn’t your job to fix him, after all. You’d only left out the part where he said Jisung was in love with you: he didn’t need to know that, and  you didn’t need to hear him laugh it off as the joke that it was.

“I mean it.” Chris had moved closer to you when you never spoke up again, one hand squeezing your shoulder. “Felix is like a little brother to me. I think if you want to ask him out… The two of you would work well together.”

Maybe he had a point. But… “I thought I was your sibling.”

He rolled his eyes, moving back into his spot at the end of the couch. “Ask Jisung for help. You said they’ve known each other since high school, right?”

They have. They ended up rooming together their freshman year, and you’d almost always be spending at least a little time with Felix whenever you went to spend time with Jisung. He’d always be studying or on his way out, but he always made a point of hanging back just long enough to say hi to you and chat for a moment. Chris had a point, then. If anyone could help you, it would probably be Jisung.

(You wouldn’t know that Chris regretted the suggestion once he saw the way Jisung looked at you. He’d held his feelings to his chest for three years, and the mask slipped once when he thought no one was looking. The soft way he smiled at you, the tender look in his eyes when he heard you laugh… Chris would have taken the moment back if he could.)

Which was why you ended up in the MinSung apartment a few days later, sitting in Jisung’s computer chair. When you asked him for help, he’d agreed all too easily, saying something about how Felix did keep calling you cute. While he claimed to not know for sure (which you suspected was a lie), he’d been up front with you when he said he thought Felix might feel something toward you. Feelings in their vaguest form, but still something to give you genuine hope.

Minho had waited until you left to step into the doorway of Jisung’s room. “You’re an idiot.” 

Minho was the only person Jisung admitted his feelings about you to. He’d already picked up on it long ago, seeing the looks that everyone else seemed to not notice, and outright asked him about it. He never understood how no one, outside of himself, knew about the affection Jisung harbored for you. He’d never been all that subtle about it in Minho’s eyes, always so lovingly doting on you. He saw the way you clearly cared for Jisung, too. When he’d quietly asked Chris once whether you felt something for Jisung, he’d said you denied it every time. But while Minho had his dumb moments… He knew you were lying. You had the same loving look on your face whenever you looked at Jisung, dreamy-eyed and oh-so-tender when you engaged with him. You gave Jisung a safe place to hide when his anxiety was too much, always willing to leave with him and get him the space he needed. 

Surprisingly, Hyunjin called him the next morning, just to tell him the same thing Minho had said: you’re an idiot. Hyunjin always somehow seemed to pick up on Jisung’s feelings, too, but eventually believed him after he denied it enough times. You were Jisung’s best friend: was it really fair for him to love you so much when all you ever saw him as was a friend? 

It wasn’t. So he told Hyunjin to mind his business, causing the short-lived spat that the rest of the group heard about in the vaguest terms. Hyunjin had argued with him about it, saying that pushing you toward Felix was cruel to everyone involved. Jisung knew Felix liked you, though, and now he knew that you liked Felix. If Jisung was the only person to get hurt, he could live with it. Maybe he’d turn it into a song if he really needed to. It took a few days, but Hyunjin finally agreed to keep his mouth shut now that he’d spoken to Felix and confirmed that Felix genuinely did like you as more than a friend. If Jisung knew that you were genuine, then Hyunjin could live with it as long as Jisung took care of himself.

It wasn’t your fault that Jisung had fallen in love with you. He agreed to Hyunjin’s terms, and decided that he could live with the heartbreak if you were happy with Felix. Felix was a good person, always so loving and warm. He would treat you the way you deserved, loving you openly and affectionately. All it would cost Jisung was one heartbreak in exchange for your happiness. 

And for you? He would do it without hesitation.

One month into the semester, Jisung had already done a few things for you. Jisung went out of his way to ensure that you and Felix would sit together when given the chance, casually finding ways to move next to Hyunjin every time. A few weeks later, he’d casually dropped the fact that you were wanting to get into gaming more when the group was together, and you’d been confused until you saw the way Felix lit up at the topic. He’d immediately offered to let you join him and his friends, talking about free MMOs that you could play. All too easily, you managed to make conversation with him, talking about how you lacked experience with stuff like that… but you did have a Stardew Valley farm with Chris that the two of you worked on whenever you both had free time.

“Oh, really?” His eyes had been twinkling, head resting in his hand. “Maybe we could make a farm together.”

All too easily, he’d given you butterflies. “I’d like that,” you said, heart racing ever-so-slightly now. 

“Actually…” He averted his gaze for a moment, his pretty freckled cheeks turning red. “Our show is opening in a few weeks. If you want…” He paused, looking up to realize the others were still there, “I’d, um, I’d like it if all of you could come. I can reserve a couple tickets for opening night, but…”

You’d agreed, already planning to make sure your schedule was clear that day. The group had always planned to come support Felix on one of those nights, guaranteeing that he’d have his own section clapping loudly for him once he was taking his bow… but that quickly turned into something that would happen on a later night. You’d taken Felix up on the offer for an opening night ticket, and managed to convince Jisung to come with you. If Jisung was with you, you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself… and Jisung agreed, saying he’d watch the show twice to come with the others later. You had work the other day, after all: it all worked out in a way, right?

Right. Which was why he was standing in a flower shop with you, looking at premade bouquets. For the past five minutes, you’d been debating between a bouquet of sunflowers and yellow roses, frowning to yourself as you tried to pick which one best suited Felix. Jisung found himself staring at pale pink peonies. He’d looked up flower meanings once when thinking about you. If he was going to confess, he would have bought you a bouquet. Pink peonies meant something like deep appreciation, and he could easily spin it into his appreciation for you as his best friend. Would he ever be able to face you and not feel his heart flutter? Maybe one day he would, if he was lucky.

When he looked at you again, you were still deep in thought. He could hear you mumbling to yourself. Roses were too forward, too strong to be just a ‘friend’ thing—even if you were trying to impress Felix. And sunflowers felt… A little cliche knowing Felix. Everyone gave Felix sunflowers on his birthday if they were going to give him flowers. Jisung looked at the other bouquets, only to find one of yellow tulips. You looked up as he approached you with them in hand, the shyest smile on his face.

“You said you wanted to give Felix something pretty, so…” He held them up. “If roses feel too strong… Then why not these?” The paper crinkled underneath his grasp, and his heart was racing even now. This wasn’t meant to be romantic, so why couldn’t he calm down?

You’d lit up, accepting the bouquet with him. He felt the way your fingers brushed against his own when you accepted them, looking down at them. “Do you think he’ll like them”

“He’ll love anything you give him,” Jisung said, gaze softening. If it was from you, it’d be special. His hands rested over your own for a minute, and you met his gaze after a moment. “Hey… Would I lie to you?”

Other people might have. Some people might have tried to sabotage their best friend’s happiness, but Jisung could never do that to you. Not when you meant so much to him. He loved you too much to do anything that might hurt you, that would destroy your happiness. Even if he didn’t love you, you were still his best friend, and that meant he needed to treat you like one. Best friends didn’t destroy best friends like that.

“No,” you said, drawing the bouquet back. You smiled at it again. “Thanks, Jisung. If you wanna wait outside, you can. I’m gonna see if they can put a little ribbon around it when I pay—make it look cuter, y’know?”

His heart leapt at the idea. Of course you’d be cute like this. He wished that it could be him that you were buying flowers for, but he’d accept getting to see you this happy. “I’ll be waiting.”

The bell above the door jingled as he left the shop, taking a few steps away before leaning against the brick wall. With a sigh, he let his shoulders slump. This shouldn’t hurt so much, but the ache in his chest seemed to show no sign of going away. He could put aside his feelings for you, though, if it meant he could see you smile. The soft look in your eyes when he reassured you only made him feel more complicated inside. You weren’t his to give away, so why did it feel like he was losing a part of himself the more he went along with this plan? In the back of his head, a little voice kept telling him to find an excuse to go back to his apartment. A forgotten assignment that he’d overlooked, or reading he needed to do for class… But that meant abandoning you, even though Felix really wanted you to come see him tonight. Not Jisung. Jisung was coming to see him in a few days, so why bother staying?

Again, the bell chimed, and out you stepped, bouquet in hand. The brown paper that once had been wrapped around the flowers was exchanged for white tissue paper, all bound together with a bright, sparkly gold ribbon. It would fit Felix perfectly, all sunshine-y and pretty, and it was only now that Jisung realized you were wearing blue. Felix’s favorite color. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? If you were in red, then Jisung would have noticed right away, wouldn’t he? His mind wandered for a moment: would you have bought flowers for him if you were coming to see him perform? Hell, would you come alone to see him perform next semester? He had to perform solo as part of his degree plans—would you wait to come with the others, or would you be there every night if you could…? Instead, he just gently reminded you to loosen up your grip on the bouquet before you broke the stems.

“What if he hates them?” Your leg had been bouncing nervously the entire bus ride back to campus. 

Jisung just gently pat your arm. “He won’t,” he said, voice as soft as it was in the flower shop. “It’s Felix. I don’t think he’d ever hate anyone for bringing him a gift. Do you?”

That seemed to get through to you, and the tension in your shoulders eased up considerably. A moment later, you nodded, meeting his gaze. “Right…” And then you leaned against him, completely unaware that his heart was now racing all over again. “Sorry. I’m just… I’m nervous, I guess.” 

Jisung could tell. Everything about you now pointed to this need for tonight to go right. The fact you were not only wearing Felix’s favorite color, but also the way you had dressed up a little nicer, just to make an effort for him. The way you were fretting over the flowers still, even now (Jisung could see the way you  kept looking at them and readjusting your hands, all too conscious now that you might break the stems). He’d have to be ignoring you completely to not see the way your leg had been bouncing before, or the way you kept toying with your sleeve, or the way you kept checking the time even though you both left extremely early to get to the shop. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, leaning his head against your own. “You’ll be fine.”

Despite the way he still wanted to go home, Jisung stuck by you the entire time. You needed him there to calm you, the way he depended on you sometimes, and he wouldn’t leave you to flounder. The two of you found seats a few rows back from the stage, settling in for whenever the show would begin. Jisung could see Chris sitting in the front row, beaming with pride at the whole affair. That was the nice thing about Chris: he always made a point of coming back to help wherever he could, including with productions like this. Plus, he was always there to support everyone, especially his friends. Dance showcases, theatrical performances, the art exhibits that Hyunjin’s pieces and Seungmin’s photography ended up in… Chris was there, always happy to congratulate on a job well done. Jisung didn’t need to be sitting next to him to see the way he glowed with pride every time Felix was on stage.

When the show was over, Jisung watched as you gravitated near the door the actors would eventually emerge from. He’d already passed the responsibility of congratulating Felix onto you for now (he’d tell him later) as he searched for where Chris had disappeared to in the crowd. Most likely, he’d disappeared into the back to go talk to the actors. Two years out of school, and Chris never seemed to care about the fact he wasn’t technically a part of the department anymore. Jisung admired his confidence, at least: it always felt like a line he shouldn’t cross, even though Felix always said his friends were welcome. 

He’d decided to take refuge in the bathroom instead, just to calm himself down. Chris would come back out soon when the actors did, meaning Jisung could talk to him then. He’d started to fiddle with little things as he stared at himself in the mirror: fixing a stray hair that never seemed to stay in place, adjusting the collar of his shirt, checking to see how puffy his face was… All little things that he could pick himself apart for if he felt like it, and his mind kept straying to it rather than how happy you seemed to be. He saw how engrossed in Felix’s performance you were. Maybe he should leave to spare himself from seeing this any further. He’d done his part, hadn’t he? You would understand. 

Except he didn’t leave, because Jisung was still your best friend. You wouldn’t abandon him now, so he had to do the same for you. The moment he stepped back into the theater, he saw the way you were beaming at Felix. He’d finally emerged, dressed casually again, and was happily talking to you while holding the bouquet. All he needed to do was look at Felix to know that he was smitten from the way he was smiling at you. Okay. He could deal with this. All he needed to do was find Chris and maybe he could manage.

But all it took was you looking up and waving Jisung over for him to cave, already drawn toward you like a magnet. He couldn’t just leave. Not when you were smiling at him like that. Jisung ended up rattling off some praise for Felix (genuine, because he wouldn’t half-heartedly give him praise just because you liked Felix and not him), and Felix had blushed over it. His gaze fell down to the flowers in his hands, and Felix smiled again.

“Aren’t they sweet?” The tissue paper rustled in Felix’s grasp, and he swayed toward you ever-so-slightly. “They’re so sweet.”

Jisung didn’t say that he was with you when you bought them, that he’d been the one to push them to you. “They have a really good eye for these things,” he said instead. “They fit you perfectly.”

“I know!” Felix looked up, beaming with pure joy. “They’ve never given a bad present before. I don’t really know how they do it.”

Jisung did. You kept a running list in your notes app of things that people said they liked, or things they said they wanted, or things that they needed that you constantly updated. Plus, you made a point to subtly ask about things close to holidays and birthdays, too. All the things you needed to give a good gift that people wanted and would appreciate. The only other person who knew about this was Chris, and that was because he’d caught you editing it. Even if Jisung hadn’t given you the tulips, he knew Felix would have loved the sunflowers or the roses. 

“I think I saw Chris,” Jisung said after a moment of seeing the (admittedly cute) way you and Felix kept glancing at each other. He started to move away, “I’m gonna go say hi.”

“Oh, I can come too!” You were flustered, all too aware of how much of Felix’s time you’d taken for yourself. “I mean, I’m sure Felix is tired of me hogging him, y’know?”

“It’s fine,” Felix said, smiling still. “I like talking to you.”

While his attention was still on you, Jisung made a point to nod toward Felix. Stay right there. He knew you wanted to talk to Felix, after all. You’d relaxed a moment later, planting yourself right where you were as you turned back to Felix. He’d already begun asking you something about an MMO he’d gotten you into, and Jisung turned tail to make his way to Chris. 

Jisung ended up leaving the arts building before you ever did, stepping out into the chilly night air. Chris was there to give you a ride home, after all: you didn’t need to ride the bus to Jisung’s apartment and then back to your own in the way you always insisted on doing. Chris had offered to drive him home, but Jisung waved him off. He needed the alone time to think, and the bus ride that took him home was the perfect time for it. He’d already begun writing lyrics in the notes app on his phone half-way there, and soon enough he’d put them into ink in his songwriting notebook. Just to get those feelings down while the wound was fresh and oozing ink.

You’d texted him that night to say that you were getting lunch with Felix that week. He had other shows most nights, but he’d make time for lunch with you anytime. He’d wondered for a moment until you finally said the magic word: Felix could do ‘evening dates’ with you another time. Yet you still texted him a moment later, asking if Felix meant date dates. All Jisung could say was that it might: he wasn’t Felix. He couldn’t tell you yes.

All he could tell you was that he was genuinely happy for you, even though the emotion never reached him in that moment.

When he woke up the next morning, he’d realized he fell asleep at his desk. His spine was aching at this point, and he realized that there was ink smudged on his hand and his cheek. He’d written down messy, clumsy lyrics that were nowhere near as good as he could make them. Jisung glanced over them again and again. The ink had smudged on the page, which meant he should copy them over to a fresh one after he showered. The melody would come to him while he washed off his regret anyway.

All of it was sloppy in the way a work in progress often was. But he had time to write it better.

A week later, you had curled up on Jisung’s bed while you were waiting for him to finish an assignment. The two of you had plans to go out to dinner, and you always ended up showing up a little too early. It never bothered Jisung, who was currently hard at work on a composition due for class soon. You admired him for a moment as he bobbed his head along to whatever he was working on, lips pressed tightly together in concentration. He’d already told you he wasn’t going to finish it tonight—but he just wanted a little more progress before he went anywhere with you. Which just left you to scroll through YouTube idly, eyeing the videos of ducks that kept popping onto your feed. All it took was one video from Felix for you to fall down this rabbit hole, and you were honestly fine with that. He made you happy.

Absent-mindedly, you started to reach toward Jisung’s desk. He always kept a stack of sticky notes on it, and you were hoping to blindly snag it without bothering Jisung. Yet he glanced up for half a second before pushing the cube over to you, offering a pen out to you without a word. You accepted it, thanking him out loud even though he was still entranced with whatever song he was working on. He hadn’t shared any of this one with you yet, but you weren’t going to push. He would show it to you when he was good and ready, and if he didn’t, then you just assumed it’d be more personal. All you did was roll onto your stomach, leaving your phone next to you as you began to doodle on the sticky notes. Jisung sometimes kept your silly little doodles, sticking them to his monitor before eventually throwing them out. There was still a pink one stuck to the corner of his screen with a little puppy on it, surrounded by little flowers.  You’d started drawing tulips on this new sticky note without thinking, followed by other flowers that you remembered seeing in that shop.

Jisung pulled the headphones off his head, looking over at you. He was wearing glasses again today—a rare sight since he started wearing contacts—and the monitor reflected in them. “Sorry,” he said, watching you doodle for a moment longer. “I’m almost done, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” you didn’t look up, humming to yourself as you kept drawing. “Take your time. I don’t mind waiting.”

(When other people said such things, jisung always felt a little on edge. Did they really mean it, or were they just pacifying him? But when you did it, he never had to doubt you. You always gave him this little reassuring smile. You meant it, and that was something else he loved about you.)

“I mean it,” you said, just like you always did to try and reassure him further. “I’ll be right here when you’re done, okay?”

Sometimes that promise would end in you falling asleep on his bed, always after you had a particularly long or rough day. He never woke you up: he’d just pulled a blanket over you and went to sleep on the couch for the night. He always made it up to you by buying breakfast that following morning. You did the same for him, after all.

Jisung replaced his headphones, but left one side off so he could hear you. A clear sign that he was open to conversation now, less focused on the work at hand. His way of winding down without dropping the project entirely. “How,” he said, and then paused for just a second as he clicked something else, “was lunch with Felix?”

The heat traveled to your face immediately, and you averted your gaze. “It was nice.” 

“Oh?” He swayed a little, turning his chair slightly. “So no wedding yet? I was practicing to be the flower girl, you know.”

You flipped him off, and he snorted. 

“I wouldn’t make a good one?” He faked offense. “I think I’d be cute.” 

“The cutest,” you rolled your eyes, yet still found yourself smiling. “Are you gonna show me the song you’re working on, or is this one another mystery?”

Jisung turned toward his computer again, not quite looking at you anymore. “It’s not ready yet.” 

You looked up at him, the way he sounded a little distant piquing your curiosity. It wasn’t ready yet…? You shrugged it off. What reason would Jisung have to lie to you…? Maybe he didn’t want your opinions this time around. There was nothing wrong with that, to be fair: Chris and Changbin were both better for musical analysis. But he’d always valued your opinions on something that was so important to him, and you always tried to pay attention to his lyricism and compliment him where you could.

Yet you doodled a little rose in the corner of the note. “Okay,” you dragged out the word, rolling onto your side after a moment, just to face him for a second. “If you ever want to show me, I’ll be happy to listen.”

“I’ll let you know if I need you.” A moment later, he met your eyes and smiled—just to reassure you that he was fine.

With said reassurance, you returned to lying on your stomach and doodling. You stuck the sticky note with flowers onto the side of his desk, and started doodling paw prints and hearts onto the new note. “I think we should go out.”

“Huh?!”

Immediately, your heart leapt into your throat. Fuck, that’s not what you meant—why did he have to sound so bothered by it?! Was dating you really such a weird idea…? You just prayed he couldn’t see how flustered you’d become, tugging at the collar of your shirt. When did your skin start burning…? “Felix told me about this nice restaurant and I figured we could go scope it out,” you said quickly. At least this wasn’t a lie or anything: Felix did send you the name of a nice place for a future date.

“Shouldn’t you check it out with him?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know how I am.”

Maybe it was silly, but you had this thing about scoping places out if you knew where someone was taking you. You did the same thing whenever your family was in the area and wanted to check something new out, just so you knew that there was something on the menu that you’d like. If someone else was treating you, you always felt guilty if you didn’t like what they were paying for. Jisung asked you once why you didn’t just look up the menu online and pick from there.

You had looked at him that day. “Jisung. What if they don’t make it good? What if they add extra stuff I don’t like and it’s gross after I ask them to take it off?” You frowned, hugging yourself. “Then I feel bad for wasting my money, or my date’s money, or my parents' money…” 

He hadn’t questioned you on it further and offered to be your test-date if you needed him. He’d never judge your taste, after all. If he was busy, you’d just drag Chris into going wherever with you—always offering to pay for him even though he had the better job out of the two of you. It was nice to go out with Jisung, though. He always seemed to know what you were going to pick off of the menu, the same way you knew his tastes. Speaking of…

“Jisungie?” You smiled at him, ready to sweeten the deal in a way he couldn’t refuse. “I’ll buy you cheesecake after.”

Immediately, you saw the way he pressed his lips together. You knew one of the ways to his heart and it was always through something sweet like cheesecake. A moment later, he melted, smiling as he turned back to save what he was working on. You left the sticky notes on his desk and hopped up, announcing you’d be waiting for him and made your way out. Minho had been curled up on the couch with a book, glancing up when you came in.

“Jisung and I are going to get dinner. Are you coming?”

Minho glanced over to where Jisung had emerged from his room, then shook his head. “I already ate.” 

Whatever. The two of you would have fun on your own, then. Through the power of digital maps and following directions, you and Jisung managed to find the place easily enough. The two of you ended up seated in the corner, ordering quickly enough before you were left alone. With a sigh, you’d begun to swirl your straw in your drink, mind wandering a bit. Your date with Felix had been nice, but you always felt so fluttery with him. Being around Jisung was… easier. You didn’t feel the need to force any conversation with him, the two of you were content to have a minute of quiet if that was what you both needed. It was a weird change to feel around him, to be honest. In the past, being around Felix was always easy. Now that you knew he liked you back…  It was different. You couldn’t help but wonder if things would be different if Jisung liked you back, if this were a date. Then you pushed the thought away: you needed to stop thinking things like that. 

“What’s on your mind?” Jisung had peeked up at you from where he was scrolling through social media on his phone, frowning a little.

With a sigh, you knew he’d pick up on your mood. “I feel like I’m gonna turn into one of those people who only talks about dating.” You fiddled with the sleeve of your sweater—your favorite color this time. “But…”

“I’m listening,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

Why did he have to look at you so earnestly? Jisung had the prettiest eyes, especially when they looked so shiny—like boba pearls, someone once said. You nodded a moment later. “Just… I dunno. I like Felix, but I keep getting nervous with him.” You tapped your toes against the floor, a little restless already. “I mean… I know he likes me, but… I dunno. We haven’t kissed or anything.”

“Has he said anything?” Jisung ran a hand through his hair, fluffing it effortlessly. How the hell did he always do that…? “What are you two doing next?”

“We were gonna see a movie and then get food here,” you paused, looking up from where you’d started staring at your hands. “And maybe dessert, if he’s interested.” 

“Was it your idea or his?”

“His, but—”

“Then I think you’re overthinking it,” Jisung said gently. “I think…” He trailed off for a moment, and then cleared his throat. “I think he likes you because you’re you. And… And, um,” he glanced down for just a second, “and if anyone doesn’t like you, then… I don’t think they deserve you.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. How was he so sweet? He seemed so nervous now, the way he always seemed to get when he was a little more sentimental with you. Like he was treading lightly, so as to not say the wrong thing. You’d told him once that there was nothing he could say that would upset you, and so far that still rang true. You had your fair share of disagreements over the years, but Jisung was your best friend. If you had soulmates in this life, then Jisung was one of them. “Jisung…”

He just silently watched you for a moment, gauging your reaction as he carefully tried to find any signs that he’d slipped up. 

You just buried your face in your hands a moment late, skin burning hot already. He’d melted your heart all too easily, dooming you to pine for him forever. No matter how far you went from him, no matter if you moved on, Jisung eternally had a piece of your heart and he didn’t even know it. Finally, you found the strength to speak, voice small: “I don’t deserve you.”

Your date with Felix was going well. The movie was fun, and dinner went great (especially going in knowing that you already liked some of the menu). He’d been gushing about video games and the movie, and now he was talking about a new recipe he was workshopping. His fingers were intertwined with yours as you walked aimlessly, no plan in place for where you were going next. You liked how warm Felix’s hands were, and the way he would run his thumb over your hand—just a tender little way of showing he was still there with you. 

“Maybe… I could bake with you sometime?” You squeezed his hand a little. “If you want an assistant.”

He lit up at the suggestion, already beaming again with joy. “I’d love that! I could teach you whatever you don’t know.” He paused, cheeks flushing red. “I think… you’d be a cute assistant, too.”

Your heart leapt into your throat at that, face growing warmer at the thought. Felix was always so cute, so affectionate, and the way he giggled at your flustered face only made you more embarrassed. Yet your mind had started to drift to the walk you’d taken with Jisung after dinner that night, heading toward your usual place for dessert….

Only to be jostled from your thoughts as Felix’s shoulder bumped against yours, getting your attention back with ease. “You okay?” He paused, and then smiled as he squeezed your hand. “You wanna get ice cream?”

Ice cream sounded perfect. You’d been wanting to bring up dessert, but you weren’t sure if he had room for it after dinner and splitting popcorn with you earlier. Then your mind turned to the brownies you’d had with Jisung… “Actually… There’s this place I go sometimes—”

“With Jisung?” Felix asked. He didn’t seem jealous or bothered in the slightest. “I’ve actually been wanting to go there with you.”

You slowed to a stop. “You have?”

He nodded. “Yeah, but… I dunno. I guess I started thinking I was overstepping since that place was always you and Jisung. You guys always take us somewhere else if we’re all going, so…”

What?

Felix shrugged, and started walking again. You fell into step with him. He continued on after a moment, “You two are really close. I mean… I’ve been places with my friends that I haven’t gone with you all, y’know? Maybe we keep stuff for our friends sometimes.”

The shop had always been a place for you and Jisung, sure, but neither of you ever intended for it to be exclusively for you two. Minho had gone with the two of you once or twice, and so had Chris. Now that you were thinking about it, this place wasn’t even the place you two used to frequent. That place closed down a little over a year ago, and you’d found this place shortly after that. The two of you had gotten a to-go order that first time to try in his apartment and fell in love with the dessert there. 

“It’s not our place,” you said after a moment. “If you want ice cream, we can get ice cream instead. I just started thinking about their brownies—”

Felix was already intrigued. “Do you wanna go?” He squeezed your hand a little, giddy at the idea. “We can split one, if you want?”

Perfect. “I’d love that,” you giggled. “They’re huge and they put a scoop of vanilla on top and drizzle it with caramel—you’ll love it.”

And he did: he fed you the first bite, just to be cheesy. His eyes always seemed to twinkle when he looked at you, so thoroughly endeared to you day after day. He’d hummed in bliss at his own first bite of the dessert before talking about how the salted caramel complimented the sweetness of the vanilla ice cream and the slight bitterness of whatever dark chocolate was in the brownie. It all came together beautifully, and all you could do was admire how pretty Felix was. He’d held your hand again after the two of you left, and held on tight for the entire walk home. 

“May I…?”

You turned your cheek to him, and he pressed a kiss against it. His lips were soft against your cheek, lingering there for a few extra seconds before he drew away. He’d already started talking about planning your next date soon, leaving it there. He took a few steps back, waiting until you unlocked the door to your apartment before he waved and made his way in the opposite direction. You retreated into your apartment with the sappiest smile on your face, already on cloud nine. In the sanctuary of your apartment, you buried your face in your hands, trying to ignore how heavily your heart was thumping in your ears.

“Someone had a good time.”

Chris had stood near the entryway, two glasses in his hands. He must have been on his way back to the living room, and you waved him on as you slipped out of your shoes and into your house slippers. Right as you were ready to tell Chris a little about how your date had gone, you spotted Changbin on the couch. With a polite way, you decided to hold off. Chris could wait to hear things tomorrow, and you told him that as you made your way toward your room.

“Did he walk you back?” Chris called out, and you hung back long enough to nod. “You could have invited him in for a minute—”

“Oh, fuck no.” You loved Chris, and maybe it would have been polite, but he had too much dirt on you. The fact you’d managed to be friends with everyone this long without having all your embarrassing stories spilled was a miracle in itself. “I love you, but I don’t need you to embarrass both of us, Chris.”

Chris only burst into giggles, knowing that you were right and that Felix would have agreed with you in a heartbeat. “I wouldn’t do it too bad!”

Big brother energy. Big bother energy, too. You opened your bedroom door. “You absolutely would,” you called back. “Love you!”

Yet it was right as you were closing the door that you heard Changbin speak up, clearly not intending for you to hear: “I thought they were…” Then a pause, just for a second. “... What about Jisung?”

You shut your bedroom door as quietly as you could, praying that no one noticed you’d caught that. You pressed your back against it for a minute, wondering where you had slipped up. Were you that obvious? Did everyone but Jisung know that you liked him and he didn’t like you back? No. No, no one else could know, right? If they knew, they would have said something by now—especially with the fact that you and Felix weren’t hiding the fact you were dating. Speaking of…

You texted him to get home safe, tacking on a yellow heart after it. He attached a little heart to the message soon enough, and you smiled to yourself. He’d text you when he got home, the way he usually did. All you could do now was start getting ready for bed as you let your mind drift back to what Changbin had been saying. If Changbin knew, then there was no telling if he’d accidentally spill it. What if Jisung found out…? He’d look at you differently, wouldn’t he? Especially since you’d asked him to help you get with Felix. What if he connected the dots and figured out that you were dating Felix because you were trying to move on? What if Felix found out and he hated you for it…? A world in which Jisung and Felix hated you was one you didn’t want to live in, and your heart began to race at the thought. Shit. What if…? You wanted to reach for your phone, to call Jisung. But Jisung would ask some questions to help you calm down, and you weren’t sure if you could be vague enough to keep him from finding out. 

Instead, you threw yourself into doing research for an essay. The less you thought about it all, the better off you’d be. The only thing that pulled you out of your thoughts was the text that popped up over an hour later from Felix. He’d sent you a picture of himself with a face mask on, dressed and ready for bed, and apologizing that he didn’t text you sooner. It was followed up with a “sleep well 💙we’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?” that left you smiling.

Felix was cute. He was sweet. He liked you, and you liked him. All you needed to do was push past your feelings for Jisung, and things would work out. Letting go was the hardest part of loving someone who wouldn’t love you back, and you needed to learn how to do it.

Maybe Felix could help you learn how to do that by loving you extra loud.

“You’re both slacking, you know!”

Jisung looked up at the sound of your voice carrying across the apartment. Barely milliseconds later, he heard Minho groan at you for pointing out the fact the apartment was a little unkempt. Fuck, you were here sooner than he thought—he’d seen your text over half an hour saying you were coming, but you were ‘taking your time’ for whatever reason. You’d given him a time, and even still he was surprised by how soon you’d showed up.

“I told you to text before you come!”

You’d stopped for a minute to turn to huff at him. “I did!” 

“Text me, not just Jisung.” There was no venom in his words, purely Minho ribbing you, but Jisung jolted from his chair. Shit, his room was a mess still. Minho had to know, didn’t he? This was him giving him a chance to tidy before you came in. “He’s been in his room all day, by the way.”

“What?” You hadn’t moved. “Really? Is he behind, or…?”

Yes, keep distracting them, Jisung shoved trash into the small trash can next to his desk—all wrappers from snacks. The sticky notes from his monitor were neatly hidden away in the bottom drawer with all the others you’d left him. Minho was rattling something off about how he knew Jisung had been hard at work, although he’d barely checked on him since he seemed to be focused. He’d tie up the bag and take it out of his room later, after you left. He made up his bed as you asked something about one of Jisung’s classes, to which Minho said a curt “I don’t know, I’m not his mom,” which earned ribbing from you considering how Minho acted like a mom at times. A second later, your voice was a little louder, having stepped closer to his room.

He threw himself back into his chair, pulled his headphones on, and pretended to be hard at work. Don’t notice the fact he’s still panting a little—he was just… running. A marathon. Really. He heard your quick knock, followed by the creak of his bedroom door a moment later. When you waved your hand in front of his face, he pretended to jolt back, pushing his headphones around his neck as he looked up at you.

With a smile, you held up the takeout. “How much do you love me?”

More than you knew. No wonder you told him you weren’t sure you’d be there on time. He accepted the bag, already working to undo the knot. “I don’t deserve you.”

You pulled over the spare chair, pulling it over to his desk. “Minho said you’ve been busy all day. Everything okay?”

He nodded. “Just working on that paper on music history,” he set aside the plastic-wrapped utensils. “It’s due in a few days, but I’m behind on it, so…”

You frowned a little. “Okay, but… Have you eaten today?” When he didn’t move, you’d been given your answer. “Aw, Jisungie…”

“I’ve snacked?”

“That’s not the same thing,” you leaned against his desk. “I guess I came at a good time, then.” 

He nodded, pulling the knot undone. He set your food aside. “I think Minho tried to check on me earlier. I don’t really remember.”

It wouldn’t be the first time, and both of you knew that. “Are you gonna share this time?”

He let out a groan. One time he ate all the steamed dumplings, and you’ve never let him live it down. “I always share,” he said, setting the container where both of you could reach it. “Take however many you want.”

“Not those,” you said, before pausing for a moment. “Well, yes those, but…” You pointed your chopsticks toward his computer. “Any of your work. I feel like I haven’t heard any of it this semester.” 

“You’re usually with Felix,” he said, voice a little quieter. “I mean… You two are usually going out and doing things, you know?” He hoped you understood him: you couldn’t be around to hear things when you were out with him. 

“Not the entire semester,” you frowned again. Then you sighed, balancing your food in your lap. “But you’re right.” Then you paused, brows drawing together. “Wait… Am I spending too much time with Felix?”

Jisung shook his head quickly. “No! No, you two are fine—I just meant—”

You reached out, squeezing his shoulder, “No, Jisung. I’m sorry.”

The way you sounded so genuinely upset only broke his heart a little. He didn’t mean to imply you shouldn’t be spending time with Felix—the two of you were dating after all. “Don’t feel bad about Felix—”

You stopped him there again. “No, I mean… I know we’re dating, but that’s no excuse to ignore you. I don’t want to be the kind of person who dumps their friends entirely, all just because I’m seeing someone. That’s not fair to you.”

His face grew warmer. Had you thought about this before…? You’d always been so conscious of your friendships when dating in the past. Sure, you spent more time with past partners, but he’d never felt neglected. No one did. “You aren’t dumping any of us. It’s okay.”

Yet that didn’t seem to stop you. “We should go out this weekend,” you said. “Like we usually do. I have to work Saturday morning, but my evening is yours.” 

His? Jisung ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at that. It didn’t mean anything. “But what about Felix?”

You pressed your lips together. “If he doesn’t understand ‘best friend time,’ then he’s not the one.” You shrugged. “My partner shouldn't stop me from hanging out with friends. I’m never going to date anyone like that. I wouldn’t want anyone to put their life on pause entirely for me, you know?”

Jisung had always loved that about you. You loved your friends wholeheartedly, and you were always so, so loyal to them. In your past relationships, you’d always found time for friends. They understood whenever you prioritized the relationship during that initial phase, sure, but it always just felt… wrong to drop them entirely during that period. You needed to balance your time, after all.

Jisung swallowed his own pain. “How are you two?”

“You don’t want to hear about us.”

“I do,” he insisted. “You don’t have to share anything, but… You’re both still my friends. Jeongin said he saw you two on a date.”

You fumbled with your chopsticks, immediately growing flustered. “Oh my god. Felix kept telling me that he was positive it wasn’t him—I knew it was! Holy shit—”

“He didn’t say anything bad!” Jisung panicked a little, carefully removing your food from your lap before it could get spilled in your movement. He moved his chair over, giving you some of his desk space so you wouldn’t have to use your lap as a table anymore. “All he said was that you two were holding hands and giggling. He said it was sweet.”

You refused to look at Jisung, still too embarrassed to do anything more than push your food around its plate. “He’s… really sweet,” you admitted after a moment. “I dunno how I feel, honestly, and I kinda feel bad about that. He’s nice to talk to, and he’s sweet, but… I dunno. I keep getting worried that I’m leading him on if I’m not all-in already.” Your knee bumped against Jisung’s. “You changed the subject, by the way.” 

Shit, you caught him. Jisung just moved the dumplings between the two of you again, trying to distract you. When you gave him a pointed look, he knew you weren’t going to drop it yet. With a sigh, he shrugged. “I’ll show you after I finish one. They aren’t good yet.” 

“Bullshit,” you said. “Your works’ always good. Even when it’s a work in progress—I can always tell that you love what you’re doing. I love how devoted you are to it… and to us, y’know.” 

Now it was his turn to be embarrassed, always so easily flustered. How did complimenting him come so easily to you? 

“You don’t have to share it if you aren’t ready or if you don’t want to,” you said after a moment. “You can tell me that, though. I’ll stop asking.”

Jisung looked up, nodding. “Later,” he promised, running a hand through his hair nervously. “When I’m ready.”

You giggled, squeezing his knee. “That’s all I needed to know,” you said. “I’ll be here for you when you want to share, alright?”

Tell them. The little voice in the back of Jisung’s mind was nagging him again, and all he could do was admire how giddy you were getting over dumplings. He loved how you found joy in little things like this, too. Tell them so they can break your heart and get it over with.

Then something clicked in his mind, something he’d glazed over entirely. “You… might not like Felix?”

You avoided his gaze, as though you were ashamed. There was nothing wrong with not being sure of your feelings, and yet you’d shrunk before him, unsure. “I don’t know. I… I like him, but I’m not sure how far it goes.”

“You should figure it out soon,” he said softly. Regardless of his own feelings for you, Felix was his friend. You clearly were, too. It was unfair if you stopped feeling things and kept seeing him. “Felix is a really good person. If you want to date him, you should be up front about it. He won’t hold it against you if you don’t feel the same, you know? Do what will make you happy.” 

You looked up from your food a moment later, a soft look in his eyes. He’d seen you and accepted you without any harsh judgment. Someone else might have told you off for being unsure, but not Jisung. Never Jisung. Feelings were complicated, after all. If you weren’t sure, then you weren’t sure. All you needed was time to figure it out. You wouldn’t drag things out to hurt Felix. You turned, leaning over the side of your chair to wrap your arms around him. He relaxed into your embrace, reaching up a hand to squeeze your arm.

“I’m really glad you’re in my life, Jisung.” You shut your eyes, squeezing him extra tight for a second. “I really, really love you, y’know?”

Why did that feel like a confession? His heart was racing, and he just squeezed you gently. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he savored this moment. “Yeah,” he said, praying that you didn’t notice how warm his face was getting, or hear how fast his heart was racing. “Love you, too.”

A moment later, you drew away, hands lingering on his arm for a moment too long. Then you were hit with realization. “Oh!” You drew away from him, “I forgot to get us drinks.” The wheels noisily rolled against the floor as you stood up. “I’ll go see what’s in the fridge, alright?”

Before he could offer to go, you were gone. Jisung watched the door shut behind you, and let out a long sigh as he relaxed into his chair. How long would it take for him to get past this? Every little moment like this with you only made his feelings burrow deeper into his chest. It felt as though he’d hit bedrock and somehow managed to keep digging. Something squeezed in his chest, and he felt as though he was going to suffocate in that moment. 

Jisung loved you too much, and now it was starting to hurt even more.

Felix was… Felix. He’d been kind to you from the first day you met him. He was sweet. Sometimes insecure, but most people were, weren’t they? He was warmer than sunshine, though, and you had always felt like you were on top of the world when you were with him. He had that ability to just spread joy in other people, that pretty smile enough to give anyone butterflies—especially when you heard his laugh afterward. He’d always drifted toward others, always ready to give a warm hug when someone needed it (or even just wanted it). Felix was sunshine in human form…

So what changed? He was smiling that cute, smitten smile that he always seemed to have when he was around you. He played with your fingers, talking about his day and asking you about your own. The two of you hadn’t been going out that long, yet those weeks seemed to shift subtly more and more until you were where you were now. The time he first kissed your cheek felt so distant now. He still liked to press little kisses against your cheek, and you often did the same to him, too. So what was wrong with you? His giggle still made your heart flutter, and the cute face he made when he got flustered was still adorable, but…

Chris had paused the movie the two of you were watching one weekend, opting to study you for a moment. You’d been scrolling through your social media feeds, too bored with the stilted leads. They were reciting shitty dialogue written by someone who clearly didn’t know what love was. Then again… What was love like?

“Hey. Can we talk?” 

You looked up, confused. When did Chris get so serious…? “What’s wrong?”

“I love you, but…” He let out a sigh. “I just wanted to say that I think you should cut things off with Felix if you aren’t interested.”

What? You never said you weren’t interested. Felix was sweet, and nice, and you felt great when you were around him still. “What?”

“I don’t know—Whenever I look at the two of you now, it looks like you’re always thinking about something.” Chris paused for a moment, and then frowned at you. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m still here for you. I just don’t want you and Felix to get hurt.” 

You hugged yourself. “I know, I just…”

“Just… Figure it out, yeah?” Chris let out a sigh. “I love you so, so much. And I love Felix, too. When you said you were interested in him, I was really excited for you both, yeah? But, I don’t know, I can’t shake this weird feeling now.” He paused for a moment, eyes searching your own now. “I didn’t push you into this, did I?”

“No! No,” you shook your head, “you didn’t. I was crushing on him for a while.” You drew your knees a little closer to you, shifting into a more comfortable position. “I… I don’t know.” 

Maybe you should kiss him. Just to see how it felt. 

“I guess…” You trailed off for a moment, hugging your blanket closer to you. “I guess I’m just not sure about anything anymore. I like hanging out with him. And… I like him. I just don’t know how I feel anymore.”

Chris frowned as he watched you. He understood, though: feelings were always complicated in some way, weren’t they? “You should tell him soon once you figure it out.” The way he was being so insistent on it meant someone talked to him. Was it Felix…? Had Felix confided in him? He sat up, reaching for the near-empty bowl of popcorn. He dropped the remote into your lap. “I’m gonna make more popcorn. Find something actually good to watch, yeah?”

“This was your pick, you know.” 

He just rustled your hair before moving on. With a new movie picked out, Chris settled into the space next to you rather than his usual spot. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side as he pressed a kiss onto the top of your head. He’d always given you little kisses like that when you were upset, and the habit never really died. It comforted you even now, reminding you of simpler times. He’d cared for you once when you were a child, rushing to your side when you skinned his knee. Admittedly it was because you’d been chasing after him, but he’d cared for you the same way he did for his siblings. He bandaged your knee, kissing it better the way his parents always did before kissing your forehead. His parents told him that it helped it heal faster. And, sure, the two of you had been dumb kids then, but the kisses now always reminded you that you weren’t going through things alone. Chris was always right there with you, the older brother you never had. 

It was sweet. At least you would always have Chris in your corner, right next to Jisung.

Felix kissed you.

The two of you had walked home from dinner that night with your pinkies linked together. You’d grown quieter with each step, listening to Felix as he filled the space with soft conversation until it, too, was drowned in the sounds of the night. The sound of cars driving past, the chirp of crickets, the wind as it kissed your skin. But Felix was right there with you, still tethered to you by your pinkies. Even now, he looked at you so sweetly whenever he caught your eye. He’d fixed your jacket, or brushed a stray strand of hair back from your face. When you were finally back in front of your apartment, he’d asked if he could kiss you. You said yes, and he closed that distance between you. All at once, you knew: Felix wasn’t it.

Maybe there would never be anyone like Jisung for you. But you couldn’t be upset about that. It wasn’t his fault you fell for him somewhere along the way. And now you were standing in front of your apartment, an eternity seeming to pass as Felix kissed you gently. His lips were slightly chapped this time, fingers gently holding your face. One of the neighbors must have opened their door and seen from the way it opened and immediately shut. 

A moment later, Felix pulled away since you never actually reciprocated. The hurt in his eyes told you everything: he knew. His hands were still holding your face, thumbs running over the apples of your cheeks. Shit. Fuck, you’d hurt him, all while you were hurting, too. Yet you saw the way he tried to fight back tears, blinking quickly as he took in a shaky breath.

When he spoke, his voice was strained. “This… wasn’t ever going somewhere, was it?”

Even after you’d hurt him, he was still so gentle with you. You wished he were angry with you, or upset, or anything other than the man who was forcing a smile in front of you now. If he yelled at you or started crying, then you could apologize. You could try to fix things. All he did was keep that forced smile as he drew his hands back, letting them fall to his sides again. With the tiniest step back, your worlds seemed to break apart. Why couldn’t he just  yell at you? You’d hurt him, and he just… He looked at you like he still thought the world of you.

“That’s okay.” His voice was so much quieter. It was as though his sunlight had been snuffed out. “I had fun.”

“Felix—”

“I mean it,” he said, taking another small step back. “I… I really hope this doesn’t hurt our friendship. I still like talking to you, and—and I like being your friend. And you’re kind-of good at games, so we could, um—we could still use yours if you wanted to play with us, and…”

He was rambling. All you could do was step forward, pulling him into your arms to hug him tight. All too easily, he crumpled into your embrace, holding you tight. 

“I’m sorry, Felix.” You hoped he would forgive you someday. Not today. Not too soon, not too easily. You didn’t deserve that. “I should have known sooner.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, taking in another shaky breath before pulling away from you. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.” He paused. “You should head in. I’m sure Chris is worried. I’ll probably get a text from him on my way home. You know how he is—he always worries, and, um, he… worries a lot about if I’m getting home safe, and…”

You punched in your apartment’s code, stepping back into the doorway. You turned to face Felix one last time, heart breaking in your chest. He forced one more smile as he looked at you.

“Goodnight,” he said, voice soft as ever.

You swallowed hard. “Goodnight, Felix. Get home safely.”

And then you shut the door, securing the door as you pressed your forehead against it. You waited, hoping that Felix had taken off as soon as the door was shut before you slammed your fist into it. Chris was out. You hadn’t seen his shoes when you stepped in, his house slippers left in their usual spot. All too quickly, you kicked your shoes off, heading toward your room as you started to strip off your clothes. You just wanted to be in your pajamas, curled up in bed. The heartbreak wasn’t what was hurting you more: it was knowing you’d hurt Felix, and he was going to go home, and he was going to cry because Felix was someone everyone treated with care. He wasn’t fragile, but he was gentler. A softer person. There was a reason why Minho joked with him differently, after all. 

At least you were alone now. Chris would have asked questions. Everyone would have, except… You’d picked up your phone, opening it up to Jisung’s contact. Jisung wouldn’t ask questions. Jisung would hold you and let you cry. But he was Felix’s friend first. 

All you could do now was send a final text to Felix to get home safely. A little heart popped up next to the message, a sign that he saw it, and you shut your phone off afterward. You dragged yourself to bed, chest heavy and hurting as you pulled your blankets around yourself. Why couldn’t things just be different?

Why couldn’t you just turn your feelings off?

Jisung didn’t speak to you all week. 

This wasn’t him getting busy with schoolwork and shutting everyone out to work. Jisung did that with warning to everyone, just so no one worried about him. That was the rule for all of you. Life could be hectic, but no one was to completely shut everyone out without at least some sort of heads up so no one worried too much. Jisung had always been clear with telling you when he needed his space so that you could check in with him occasionally. The one person you needed most right now wasn’t responding to your texts, and that terrified you. He was pissed at you. He had to be, right? You had hurt Felix, and Jisung decided to side with the person he’d known longer. Messaging Minho yielded no answer, too. You had expected Felix to avoid you the way he was now, but even he had been more cordial to you. Sure, he was quieter, but that, again, was something you had expected. He apparently came by one day to see Chris, and you had never known until Chris offhandedly mentioned it.

You had to figure things out, which meant asking everyone separately. Chris had claimed he didn’t know anything about what was wrong with Jisung. He never acted any differently when they interacted, although it was a little more rare nowadays. Minho only responded to tell you that Jisung needed space, but that he wasn’t sure what had happened. Felix had messaged you back to first accept your apology for bothering him and then tell you that he wasn’t sure what happened. No one did. Jeongin seemed clueless that anything had happened, Changbin said he’d see what he could find out (only to come up fruitless in that attempt), and Seungmin had been buried in his own schoolwork. If anyone had known something, it would have been Minho.

Which… admittedly was why you decided to wait outside the dance studio he worked at. He was teaching kids dance now, and it paid well enough that he could support himself. Plus he seemed happy, always getting along well with the kids according to Felix and Hyunjin when they volunteered to help a few times. You knew that he locked up in the evenings because he was the last person out, always taking an hour to himself to practice his own dancing. You listened to the jingle of keys and the loud click of the door, followed by Minho making his way down the steps. He noticed you all too easily, and slowed to a stop.

He shook his head, pocketing his keys. “I’m not telling you anything,” he said, as though he’d been expecting you to track him down. Maybe he did. Minho could have his airheaded moments the way you had your own, but he wasn’t stupid. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Maybe half an hour.” You crossed your arms, shivering a little in the cold. Maybe longer, actually. “I just want to know what’s going on with Jisung. I’m worried, Minho—he hasn’t said anything to me.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “He’s just going through a few things.” He stepped down off that final step, making his way toward home. He turned, speaking to you again, “He’s not ready to talk to you, so give him space for now. He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.” Then he turned away again, continuing his walk away.

That wasn’t enough for you. You hurried to catch up to him, “Minho!” You fell into step next to him. “Why can’t he just tell me that? That’s all I needed to hear from him. He knows he can tell me things, I just—”

Minho stopped suddenly, turning to face you. He reached up, hands resting on your shoulders. “When he’s ready, he’ll tell you. Don’t worry about him,” his fingers dug into your shoulders for a quick squeeze, “I’m taking care of him. Just wait for him.” 

Before you could question him further, Minho let go of you. All you could do was stand there, stewing in your thoughts. Minho knew, then. What he knew exactly, you weren’t sure, but he at least knew what was wrong with Jisung. You drew your phone back out of your pocket, opening it to your unanswered messages to Jisung. Maybe you shouldn’t have,  but you needed to say at least one last thing before you stopped trying to contact him. Just to he knew that you were still on his side:

I’m here if you need me, Jisung. Please take care. Love you.

And by the time you were home, he had reacted with a heart. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tell you he’d seen your messages. 

At least he’d given you that.

Jisung still wasn’t speaking to you another week later.

He knew about Felix. How could he not know about Felix? He knew that you had ended things with him. He knew that Hyunjin was beyond pissed at you, and he knew you’d eventually figure that out. Jisung had spilled his feelings to Hyunjin when he pushed again. That he had loved you for so long now that he couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t love you. Hyunjin, to his credit,  had quietly listened to Jisung as he told him everything. Then when he was done, he scowled to himself.

“They hurt Felix,” he had said. “Because they love you.”

Jisung shook his head. “You don’t have to say things like that. I know they don’t—”

“No, they do, and you need to realize that.” Hyunjin crumpled the paper cup of coffee, getting up to throw it into the trash. “That’s why they turned Felix down.”

What the hell—Did you say something to Hynjin? “Did they tell you?”

“No.” He crossed his arms. “But I know. It’s a gut feeling. I always thought you were lying to me, but…” He let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “You deserve better than them, Jisung.”

Immediately, he was taken aback. “What?”

“They fucked with Felix’s feelings,” he said, “and I think that’s fucked up. I don’t care that they have feelings for you—they should have left Felix out of it. Why would they do this to him?”

“They liked him,” Jisung said, already quick to defend you. He was hurting, yes, but he wasn’t going to just let Hyunjin insult you like this. You weren’t some cruel person—you had genuinely liked Felix. What, were you supposed to keep dating Felix when it turned out you didn’t feel the same way? “They wouldn’t have dated him if they didn’t.”

“Did they?” He balled his hands into fists. “Or were they just trying to get over you?”

“They wouldn’t have hurt him on purpose!” Jisung hated how he teared up now. He was angry, he wanted to defend you, and yet the stress of fighting back now was already getting to him. “They were figuring out how they felt—they’re not a bad person for figuring out that they don’t like him like that.”

“I mean it,” Hyunjin said. “You deserve better. Felix does, too.”

Jisung didn’t know what else to say. Nothing he could say would change Hyunjin’s mind, would it? He was pissed at you, and nothing Jisung could say on your behalf would do anything. Only you could change his mind. 

“I’m still here for you,” Hyunjin said, voice a little softer than before. “I know it’s hard. I’m sorry, Jisung.”

Of course he was still there for him. Everyone would be—including Felix, if he knew. He saw a picture pop up a few days later of Felix out with Hyunjin and Changbin, smiling genuinely at the camera. He’d heard about how badly Felix had been hurting those first few days–. Changbin said he’d been crying for so long that night, genuinely heartbroken by how everything had gone down. Not that Changbin was upset with you at all: relationships sometimes just didn’t work out. It sucked that Felix was hurt, but everyone (excluding Hyunjin, who’s loyalty to Felix admittedly blinded him to anything you were going through) understood that the situation was complicated. It had to be, right? The two of you seemed to fit together so well…

Jisung shut his eyes, listening as he reworked this part in his song about you for maybe the millionth time now. The lyrics weren’t completely right, not flowing the way he wanted them to. But he’d never been able to get them right every time he tried to rewrite them, and it was too personal a project to ask for a second opinion on. He’d stopped working on it to console Felix at one point, only for him to ask point black if Jisung actually did like you. He denied it. the same way he always did and always would, and Felix didn’t push. Jisung couldn’t like you now. Not when it would hurt someone, and especially when it would hurt someone like Felix. Denying his feelings hurt, but pursuing you just felt selfish.

Suddenly, his headphones were pulled off his ears, and Minho stood next to him. He glanced at the screen and already recognized it to be the piece that Jisung had been working on constantly when he wasn’t working on schoolwork, and sighed. Jisung watched as Minho wordlessly made his way over to his closet, opening the doors and searching through his shirts. He yanked one off, throwing it at Jisung, who scrambled to catch it.

“Get dressed,” Minho said before Jisung could question him. “Chris is on his way.”

Jisung furrowed his brows. Chris was…? He looked down at the clean white t-shirt in his hands. “Did something happen?”

“We’re all going out,” he said, searching for a clean pair of jeans. He threw those at him, too, and then turned. “You’ve barely left the apartment outside of work and class. We’re going to sing your feelings out. Bottling them up won’t help you.”

Jisung only stared at him. Writing a song about you was the opposite of bottling it up… right? “I’m not—”

“You don’t have to tell us everything,” he made his way over, giving Jisung a gentle pat on the head. “But you can depend on us. We’re here for you.”

Jisung looked down at the clothing Minho had oh-so-lovingly thrown in his face, and nodded. He left his headphones on his desk, moving to change once Minho had left him alone. Soon enough, he had changed, and even sooner after that, Chris had shown up. If you were upset, Chris hadn’t said a word about it. He just threw an arm around Jisung, already bragging about how he’d have the highest score tonight if Jisung didn’t bring his game. It was almost nice to act as though nothing was wrong, even though Jisung saw the concerned looks Chris kept taking. 

He’d run his fingers over the smooth seats in the karaoke room, listening as Chris put in an order for drinks and snacks. All of this was his treat, he’d insisted over and over. This was entirely his idea, apparently (an idea Minho didn’t refute at all). Jisung kept glancing at the door, wondering if this was some plan they’d concocted to make the two of you talk. 

“Jisung, you should sing first,” Minho said, prodding his side to get his attention. 

Jisung looked to his two friends, who began to chant his name to motivate him further. This wasn’t a trap to make the two of you talk, then. The tension eased off of him. They wouldn’t do that to him—not like this, at least. He waved his hands, though. “No—It’s fine! One of you can go first.”

Chris stood up and began to cycle through the songs, humming to himself before stumbling across one. “Jisungie,” he cooed, “will you sing with me?”

Of course Chris had found a duet. It was from two members of a popular boy group, and Jisung had… admittedly listened to it more than a few times over the past two weeks. The song was about heartbreak to the point of begging the listener to say yes, to sing this song with them again, to let them stay again. It was easier to sing alongside Chris than to sing along, to share his pain through another song he’d had on repeat. 

And it became healing to belt out a ballad with his friends until his throat ached. To break down crying afterwards and be held by them as he sobbed. Something inside of him had finally broken down in the way it needed to. When replacing his battery once, the guy behind the counter told Jisung that it was okay to let his phone die sometimes, because even it needed rest. He didn’t know enough to know if this was sound advice, but he had always kept the advice in mind at least. Was that what this was? Had his own battery finally run out and this was his way of resting rather than tirelessly pushing forward, recharge after recharge? He’d leaned into Minho’s side, sobbing into his sleeve while Chris rubbed circles onto his back. 

By the time they left after buying another hour, Jisung felt lighter. He would always carry this heartbreak for you within him, yearning for something he needed to let go of to be better. But more importantly, things finally seemed clearer to him. He knew how to fix his song, lyrics perfected in the back of his mind. He typed them out into his notes app while sitting in the back of Chris’s car, just so he wouldn’t lose them. The melody came to him easier—something he’d need to change a little to be just right—and he tapped it out onto his jean-clad leg. The moment he was home, he would put it down onto paper. 

And when he finished his song, he could finally let go. Jisung promised himself that he would, and when he did that, he could finally let you back in if you would have him.

Almost three weeks without Jisung, and you felt like you were holding yourself together with thread. At first, you’d been angry once Minho told you to just wait for Jisung. If it was this serious, then Jisung should have told you himself that he needed space. A lot of space, apparently. Then came worry,  because had you done something to upset him? Was that why he wouldn’t so much as look at you anymore? Had you hurt Jisung without even knowing it. Or… Or did he figure out the real reason why you couldn’t be with Felix? Someone must have suspected your feelings for Jisung now. Chris had to know. Changbin already suspected something. Surely, one of them would have hinted at it to Jisung… wouldn’t they? Night after night, you found yourself searching through every text from your friend group for some answer that you were sure would never come to you. Something that someone had said to hint at what was wrong with Jisung.

And then the answer came to you in what someone didn’t say. Hyunjin had never responded to a single one of your texts. You hadn’t noticed at the time, far too caught up in trying to figure out the puzzle that was Han Jisung and his disappearance from your life. But you’d had enough, and if Hyunjin had the answers, then it was time to put a stop to this. You’d buzzed his apartment, and Seungmin let you in without much of a second thought. Hyunjin sat at their dining table, sketchbook open in front of him while he worked on thumbnails for a new assignment. He looked up, and immediately you saw disgust cross his face.

“Tell me what’s wrong with Jisung.”

You weren’t asking anymore: this was a demand. A week ago, you would have scurried in and pleaded for Hyunjin to just talk to you. But the scorn in his eyes was enough to tell you that Hyunjin knew something and, for whatever reason, he was beyond pissed at you. He scowled at you for a moment, but let it go, fading into neutrality. He leaned back after a moment, giving you a quick once-over.

“You’re being rude.”

Was he serious right now? Of all the people to deal with… “Hyunjin.” You folded your arms across your chest. “I mean it. If you do know something, then tell me already.”

His gaze was cold still, expression not betraying his true thoughts. “It’s none of your business.”

“Bullshit!” You snapped at him, fists balled as you stepped forward. “It’s been almost three weeks and I haven’t seen Jisung the entire fucking time—If it’s bad, then at least say that!” 

“What do you think the problem is?!” Hyunjin truly was pissed with you, voice now raising as he stood up. He pushed his sketchbook aside to where it would be safe, and stared you down. “You broke Felix’s heart, and it’s hurting the rest of us—and you should have thought about that before you asked him out.”

You sputtered. Was he pissed at you because things didn’t work out? “I didn’t know we wouldn’t work out! What was I supposed to do—pretend I still had feelings for him?”

“Tell him sooner.” He clenched his jaw. “Don’t lead him on when you clearly have feelings for Jisung.”

Seungmin gasped behind you, and you found yourself at a loss for words. Hyunjin knew? When—How—How the fuck did Hyunjin find out? You swore you’d always hidden your feelings well, but… “What are you talking about?”

His gaze was ice cold now, and he scowled at you once more. “You went out with Felix because you didn’t want to admit it. Now Jisung feels bad because he helped set you two up because you asked—Did you even like Felix?!” 

“I did!” You did. You truly did. But not every relationship was meant to last—and, hell, you never even became anything official. If you could turn back time, you would have ended things sooner. “I did,” you said, your voice softer as you reined in your temper. “I wouldn’t just mess with Felix like that, Hyunjin. He’s my friend, too.” You brought your arms up to hug yourself. “Hyunjin, do you really think I’d do that?”

Hyunjin didn’t say anything for a moment, the regret clear on his face. His fingers grazed the wooden table in front of him as he looked away from you, pressing his lips into a firm line. As upset as he was with you, assuming you would be so cruel to someone you both clearly cared about was… a little too far, wasn’t it? He took a deep breath as he calmed himself down, meeting your eyes after a moment. “I think you need to figure out your feelings. I’m tired of watching my friends hurt.” 

“I know.” Your lip trembled a little, and you fought back the urge to cry. “I can’t help how I feel about Felix, though. I know I should have told him sooner, but… I really, really didn’t know until we kissed. I promise.” 

Hyunjin said nothing at first, just watching you. He licked his lips a moment later, swallowing hard. “You really don’t understand, do you?”

All you could do was stare. Maybe he would give something away. “What?”

Seungmin spoke up after a moment, “Don’t you have that meeting? For your project?” He looked between the two of you. He looked at Hyunjin more pointedly after a moment, clearly annoyed at the confused look on his face. “Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin caught on for once, although you could tell that this was some sort of lie. “Right,” he said, reaching for his sketchbook. “I should go.”

There was no point in calling either of them out. They weren’t going to tell you anything now, and you needed to reflect on what had happened so far. You apologized for intruding and for coming in so hot, turning to make your way out of the apartment. While you still weren’t sure why, exactly, Jisung was upset to the point of not speaking to you… You understood at least a little more. It felt like everyone knew something that you didn’t, although the answer felt just outside of your reach. How much of it was you not knowing, though, and how much of it was you not letting yourself know? You weren’t sure. 

Hyunjin called your name before you left, hesitating before he met your gaze. “I think… I think you should talk to Jisung.” He frowned. “I’m still upset with you because of Felix, but… It’s weird that you two aren’t talking at all. So…” He made his way over, opening the door to leave with you. “Talk to Jisung soon.”

You would. Regardless of how you came out on the other end, you would talk to him no matter what it took.

Jisung had his favorite studio on the music floor of the arts building. He’d penciled in his time slot at the beginning of the week, and let himself in with the code. This room was the furthest from the entrance, and it had the most comfortable chair to settle in and work in. It was always a fight to get this room, and Jisung was good at quietly stealing a few time slots for himself. He shoved his bag underneath the table, and he put himself to work. He’d need to re-record the piano track for one piece, record the guitar accompaniment for another piece he’d been working on… And plenty more that was always best suited for working here rather than home. Using digital instruments only took him so far—there was something calming about sitting down and playing a piece himself. 

It wasn’t until he was playing a piece back that he heard the door click unlocked behind him. When he looked up, there you were. You looked tired. Far more tired than he did most days. What had happened to you? 

“Hey.” You stood in the open doorway. Non-music students weren’t allowed in here, but that had never stopped you. Someone had to drag him back home when it was getting too late, after all.

He ran a hand through his hair, hoping that he looked casual enough. “Hey.”

“Everything okay?” The door slowly fell shut behind you, and you stepped a little closer to him. “It’s been a while.” 

Three weeks, but who’s counting? Jisung was. He kept counting day by day, hour by hour, trying to whittle down the time further and further until he was strong enough to face you again. “I’ve been busy,” he half-lied. “That’s all.”

“Is it?” You frowned, making your way over to the nearby chair. “If you want me to leave, you can tell me, okay? I’m worried about you.” 

Jisung let out a sigh, nodding. “I’m okay. Just…” He looked at the piece he’d been working on, and thought back to the song he’d been writing for you. “I’ve been working on a song sometimes. But…” He looked at you. Maybe you’d have the answer he was still searching for. “What would you do if you loved someone you shouldn’t?”

“Like… forbidden love?” You tilted your head curiously, frowning. “Or…?”

He chuckled, actually smiling again for the first time in a while. Oh, how he was still so endeared to you. No wonder you were still in your literature program with cute thoughts like those. “Just someone you can’t be with. Like…” He hummed to himself. It would be another lie, but it’d throw you off his trail if you were starting to figure him out. “A friend’s partner.” 

He could see the way you started to think on that, no doubt making a list of all the friends the two of you had that were dating. It’d vex your brain for a bit, sure, but Jisung didn’t mind. He liked the cute way your brows drew together when you were thinking hard, lips always pressing into this pout. 

“That’s what my song is about is all,” he said. “I haven’t experienced it myself,” he lied again, “but I was thinking about it and I wondered what kind of song that would turn into. It’s about someone who’s in love with their friend’s partner, and struggling with those feelings. Like… They wouldn’t do anything to hurt their friend, but they still can’t  help their feelings.”

You said nothing to him. Had he said too much? You were figuring him out, weren’t you…?

“I just think it’s hard to live that life,” he said. Every time he even thought about you, there was an ache in his chest. Felix liked you, too. “I mean… Imagine loving someone so much that it hurts.” 

“I can, yeah.” Your voice had gone a little quieter than usual. Right. Had you felt that way about Felix…? Or were you talking about him now? Jisung struggled more with that one, even though Hyunjin was so confident that Jisung’s feelings had never been one-sided. 

He met your gaze a minute later, shy to look into your eyes again. He’d always loved the color of your eyes. If he could write songs about how he wanted to drown in their warm, loving gaze, he would. But that was straying a little too far into territory he’d sworn away from. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I wanted time to figure things out, but… I think Minho would tell you I haven’t talked to most people lately.”

You nodded. “Chris said the three of you went out to a noraebang.” Your toes tapped against the floor in that nervous way, as though this was a topic you shouldn’t even come close to. “Did that help?”

Wait… You weren’t mad at him for that. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“No?” You toyed with your sleeve, not quite meeting his gaze this time. “I mean… It did sting a little bit, but if you needed Chris and Minho, then I can’t change that. All I can do is just kinda hope that they helped you.”

He didn’t deserve you. Fuck the music for now, he’d finished what he really needed to do. He began to shut down the equipment, gathering his things as he stood up, facing you. “I’ll buy dessert,” he said. “Is that okay?”

it was your turn to smile at him, lighting up his world all too easily. You followed him out of the studio, and he secured the door shut to make sure it was locked. For a moment, his hand brushed against your own, and he yearned to hold it. Another feeling he would have to get used to, he was sure. But all he could do was smile at you, thankful that you were right there by his side for the first time in weeks. 

This would be hard, but he could do it. He wasn’t going to lose you again. Not if he had anything to do with it.

Hyunjin had shown up to his apartment for once, and he stood in the doorway to his bedroom. “Jisung. Tell them.” His hand curled around the strap of his bag, clutching it tight. “Soon.” 

Minho had told him the same thing ever since the two of you started talking again. If Jisung didn’t want to pursue you, then it was time he learned to let you go. And if he did want to become something with you, then he needed to talk to you. It wasn’t fair to either of you if he held onto this dream of loving you without ever trying. If Jisung couldn’t let himself do it, then why keep hurting himself by holding onto it so tightly? Why not find a new dream to pursue, a new person to love wholeheartedly? Yet Jisung couldn’t imagine a world where he wasn’t loving you in some way. Part of his heart would live and die with you one day, no matter how far away he went. This was his fate now.

“I just got our friendship back,” he said without looking up again. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Jisung, they like you.” Hyunjin said it outright. “So you need to tell them.”

Jisung looked up. He knew you liked him. But would he ever let himself fully believe it? It felt… harder to grasp that reality. He’d spent so long telling himself that it was all in his head, that the tender look in your eyes was just you caring for him as a best friend. But Hyunjin was right. Minho had been right. Everyone who had ever told him to just go for it was right. “Hyunjin, I don’t know if I can—”

“I’m tired of watching my friends hurt,” he said. “All of us see it. Why can’t you?”

Jisung swallowed hard. “What about Felix?”

Hyunjin averted his gaze, frowning. “Felix…” He took a deep breath. “Felix would want you to be happy, Jisung. He knows, too, you know.” He took a step back. “I’m not going to push you. But you should tell them.”

He said nothing else, and soon Hyunjin left him there. Jisung shut the world out again, listening to his song as it played back to him again. One step closer. Once he finished this song, everything would be okay.

Chris Bang had always been your best friend growing up before Jisung took that title away from him. He was an older brother to you in every way except blood, and that meant he was the one who would have the hard talks with you. He’d come home with your favorite takeout in hand, setting it on the dinner table before saying he’d change out of his work clothes quickly. But you knew what was coming. There were only two reasons that Chris would buy your favorite takeout on his way home from work. You weren’t upset, which meant it was time for an adult conversation. One that you wouldn’t want to have, but needed to. Soon enough, Chris had sat across from you, having poured your drink first. 

“So I think we should talk about how you’re in love with Jisung,” Chris said as he set down the bottle. “Okay?”

You stared at him, already feeling tears well up. Everyone knew, then. If Chris knew, then there was no way the others hadn’t figured it out. “Chris…”

“It’s okay.” He took your hand in his own. It was time for the two of you to dump your feelings onto the table and sort them out right then and there together. “Let’s talk about this, okay? No more running away.”

No more running away. You breathed in deep, and slowly exhaled. Where to begin…? You weren’t sure. So much of your life had become this huge mess over the past few months, and now all those strings were tangled so tightly together that you weren’t sure you could undo the knot.

So Chris squeezed your hand before letting go, turning his attention to the bag of takeout in front of you. “I know you,” he said. “So I know you didn’t want to hurt Felix, and I know that you still don’t. But… I think it’s time you put your feelings first for once.”

“Chris…” You frowned. “It feels too soon.”

“I kinda hate saying it, but we all know now. Felix included.” He set your plate in front of you, and didn’t touch his own. All he did was watch you, waiting for you to say or do anything further. When you didn’t, he decided to continue on, “You can’t tell me that you don’t want to act now because of Felix. I asked everyone and they all said the same thing: they thought you’d liked Jisung for a while before you and Felix dated. After that, they all thought that you two were just that close.”

“We are.” 

Chris shook his head, saying your name gently this time. “You know Jisung loves you, right?”

There was a spike of pain in your chest. Not because you didn’t, but because you did. Hyunjin had all but spelled it out for you before, but seeing Jisung again that day proved it. You’d always thought you were just believing in something that wasn’t there, too afraid to toe the line between friend and more. Tears lined your eyes now, and finally ran down your cheeks as you blinked. All you could do was nod now. 

Chris already reached up to wipe away your tears. “It’s okay!” He chuckled. “You’ve gotten so soft,” he teased. “But… Why did you never tell him?”

“I was scared.” You still were, to be fair. “I didn’t know for sure before, and… Now I just don’t want to hurt Felix. I don’t think Jisung does, either.”

His gaze softened so much. Of course the two of you were still thinking of Felix. Minho had said the same thing to Chris, actually. “Felix wants you to be happy,” he said. “All of us do. If that means being with Jisung, then that’s what you should do. Felix is an adult, you know. He might be more sensitive sometimes, but he’d never hold any of this against you.” He cupped your cheek gently. “And I really, really don’t think he’d want to be the reason you two never tried.”

You could believe that easily. If Felix knew, he’d feel guilty. That you knew as fact.

“And if I’m being honest… I don’t think he’s the only reason you haven’t tried.” He pulled his hand away from your face. “So… Talk to me. What’s really stopping you?”

No running away. “What if this doesn't work out and I lose Jisung for good?”

“There’s no guarantee that will happen,” Chris said. 

“There’s no guarantee we’ll work out, either.” You frowned. “I’ve heard horror stories of friends who tried to date and it ruined everything.”

“And there’s friends who managed to go back to being friends,” Chris said. “I really think that you two wouldn’t let it tear you apart. You’ve already been through so much, you know?” 

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. The last thing you ever wanted was to lose Jisung again. If the two of you didn’t work out, how hard would you fight for him? Would he fight for you, too…?

“The most you’ll ever have to do is get space from each other,” Chris said. “But I think you’d come back to each other.”

“I think he’s my soulmate.” You hadn’t thought before you said it, the words bursting out of you all too easily. Regardless of whether that was platonically or romantically, Jisung was someone you wanted to keep in your life forever. “But…”

“But?”

“Isn’t it too soon?” You frowned at Chris. “I mean… Felix and I—”

“If you don’t go for it now, when will you?” Chris held your hand again. “If you aren’t ready to tell him, I won’t push you to do it. Just because you confess doesn’t mean you have to rush into a relationship—it just means you’re finally being honest with each other. Go at your own pace… But don’t hold back because of everyone else, okay?” He squeezed your hand reassuringly. “The only people in this relationship would be you and Jisung. So don’t include anyone else in this decision, okay?”

With a nod, you decided to commit to giving yourself three days. One day to make up your mind for sure on whether this was the right move to make. If you were going to confess to Jisung, then you wanted to do it sooner rather than later. The second day was to figure out how you were going to tell him. Over cheesecake, or in through a song, or in the park… You still had to figure that part out, and you would. It needed to be special. 

And the third day was going to be the day you told him.

On the rooftop of Jisung’s apartment was a community garden. It brought a little greenery into the city, and it was nice to see the plants that several people often tended to— fresh herbs that Minho would sometimes pick with permission to use when he cooked, a few tomato plants that he often saw people tending to, Things that he didn’t fully understand the care of himself, but he still appreciated the efforts put into it. It was a nice space to sit and think alone sometimes, most of his friends unaware of just how often he’d come up here. He could see so much of the city here, too. He was just one person in this great big city—in the world, even, if he let his mind wander that far. And yet he’d found significance through the people he loved, in the passions he pursued. 

He’d finished his song for you late last night, and now he was left with this hollow feeling. He’d told himself over and over that this song would be it: one last thing he’d dedicate to you, and then he’d move on. But… That wasn’t how it was going to work at all. Han Jisung knew a few things now. He loved you. You loved him. The only question he had left was how to tell you.

Maybe he should have written you a love song instead. Then he’d have something, at least.

He’d brought a drink out here with him, settling at the picnic table. He used to bring you up here sometimes, stealing away from the world for a while to just exist with you. You’d share drinks together, and a few times you’d ended up rained on. Now, he just lost himself to the playlist he’d been listening to, head bobbing along to the music. He could bring you here and confess to you at sunset. Would that be romantic? He didn’t care for it being a grand gesture, as long as it was something memorable. All he wanted was a gesture that told you that he was sorry but ready to face tomorrow at your side, if you would let him be there. 

The door to the rooftop had this awful screech that he could hear through his headphones. He opened his eyes, reaching to pull them around his neck and politely greet whoever had come up here. And it was as if you’d heard his thoughts, because there you stood in the golden rays of the day. 

“Hey.” The door had slowly swung shut behind you as you made your way over to him.

He shyly smiled at you. “Hi.” Now it was his turn to ask: “Is everything okay?”

You nodded, coming to the edge of the table. “I think we should talk about us.”

“Us?” His heart almost skipped a beat at that. Did you…? 

Oh. You knew. 

“It’s nothing bad,” you had said to him, as if it could put him at ease now. “But…” You rounded the table, throwing one leg over the bench he’d been sitting on. Instead of sitting normally, you chose to straddle it, just so you could fully face him.

So he matched you, throwing one leg out and turning to fully face you. “But?”

“I’m in love with you,” you said, voice wavering ever so slightly now. “And… And you’re in love with me.” You’d begun to drum your knuckles against the wooden bench. “And… And I don’t know why neither of us said anything sooner.”

Jisung stared at you, face growing warmer. His gut instinct was to deny it, to push his feelings away. But Hyunjin’s words rang out in his head: he was tired of seeing his friends hurt. Everyone was now.

“I really wanna be honest with you, so…” You took a deep breath, shutting your eyes for just a moment to center yourself. “Hyunjin thought I was using Felix to get over you, and… I just wanted to say that I promise I wasn’t. I really did like Felix, but…”

“I didn’t think you were,” Jisung’s voice was soft, and he reached for your hands. His fingertips grazed your knuckles before he pulled his hands away. Was touching you, even in such a tiny way, too much? “I knew you liked him.”

You nodded slowly. “Good. Because…” You’d grown flustered, averting your gaze. “I.. didn’t know that it’d always be you until I kissed him.”

That time, the world seemed to stop around him. It’d… always be him? “What?” His fingers curled around the edge of the bench. “I don’t understand. What do you—” 

A moment later, your eyes met his own. “I think I’ve been looking for you in every person I’ve tried dating, and that’s why it’s never worked out.” He’d already begun to melt, but you continued on, “If you didn’t love me back, then I think maybe one day I would have moved on. But… If you don’t, then tell me, and we can pretend this conversation never happened.”

He shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to pretend he didn’t love you. Yet something ached in his chest. Felix. Even now, all he could think about was how Felix would hurt once he knew the two of you were something. “I… I want to,” he said, voice softer now. “But what about Felix?”

“Would you hesitate if Felix didn’t like me?”

He shook his head. Never. He swallowed hard, his emotions building in his chest. He’d dreamed of a day like this for so long, always pining over you night after night. He dreamed of kissing you, warm and tender, and saying all the pretty things that came to mind. And now that you were in front of him, he couldn’t help but glance at your lips again. Not yet. “I…” He paused, just to gather himself together. “I didn’t think you’d love me, you know.”

You frowned at him. “Why not?”

“You’re you,” he said. “And… And I wasn’t sure if you’d ever like me like that. I’ve always known you liked me, but love is… different.” The paint chips from the bench were flaking onto his fingers now, the same shade of red as your sweater. As his, too. “I know Felix is hurting now, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I thought it would, but…”

“I get it.” You nodded slowly. “I… I also kinda thought things would change. But if everyone wants us to be happy, then I think we’re the only people standing in our way.” 

He didn’t want to. Not anymore. Jisung reached forward, this time keeping his hands over your own. “I think we should stop that,” he said, voice growing quieter. His eyes had grown wetter, tears brimming the edges, and reached up to wipe them away. “Sorry—I’m getting emotional.”

“It’s okay.” You scooted forward a little, and Jisung felt his heart begin to race. You were so close he could kiss you. He wanted to kiss you. You reached up, caressing Jisung’s face. He already leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he savored the feeling. Your hands were so warm, even now. “I think I’ll always love Felix the way I love the rest of our friends. But… I love you more, Jisung. I know it’s early to say it, but… I really think it’s you.”

He opened his eyes, taking in the way the golden rays of the sun were kissing your face. Was it wrong to be a little jealous? Again, his eyes flickered down to your lips for just a second. “Can I kiss you?”

You said the only word he needed, and he leaned in to close the space between the two of you. His nose had brushed against yours for a moment, already smiling before his lips met your own. Your lips were so soft, and his hands found a home at your waist after a moment. He’d always wondered what kissing you would be like, and now it felt as though he’d finally woken up from the longest dream in his life. His eyes fluttered shut as he lost himself in this moment with you.

He’d heard stories before of what it was like to kiss someone after so much pining, after so many trials in the way. People talked of having their breath stolen from them, or being unable to breathe from how surreal it all seemed to be. Yet when he kissed you, it was as though he could finally breathe again. He had resurfaced after drowning in so much self doubt and fear for far too long, and kissing you was living. Yet he knew that if he was given the choice to drown in you, he would have done it without a second thought. As much as you’d given him life with only a kiss, filling his lungs with air, he’d follow your siren song to the depths of the ocean all too eagerly if it meant he could taste this feeling once more. You ran a hand through his hair, and he was already intoxicated by you, his body yearning for your touch more than ever before. Yet when he pulled away, something had plucked his heartstrings one by one. He let out that broken, stuttered breath that always served as a precursor for him crying. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he gazed at you, trying to commit every part of this moment to memory. 

“Jisung?” You were concerned for him even after kissing him, and he wanted to laugh. To cry. To kiss you again. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, his hands finding your own all too easily. “I love you, too.” He’d always love you. Whatever part of his heart you had, it was yours to keep regardless of where this went. “I think it’s you for me, too.” 

By the time the two of you had made it back inside, the sun had set, and Jisung had held onto your hand tightly the entire way to his apartment. He’d given up his bed for you in the past already, he’d happily do it again to make sure you had a proper night of sleep. Maybe one day he would fall asleep next to you and memorize every line and blemish on your face, but not tonight. Kissing you and saying those three little words he’d always wanted to hear you say was plenty for one day. Yet he’d kissed you one last time as he left you at his bedroom door, just to kiss you goodnight.

“Jisung?” You’d called to him as he made his way to the couch, and he’d turned to face you one more time. “Dream of me.”

Oh. Oh. His heart had skipped a beat yet again at you. This was his new reality, wasn’t it? He found himself smiling at you, that same shy, pretty smile you’d later tell him you always wanted to kiss. He’d dream of you every night if it meant he could wake up to you, too. Tonight would be the end of strife and stress and strain from not telling you how he felt. Now he had to make up for so much lost time.

And if that meant that, starting tomorrow, he would tell you exactly what you meant to him, then he’d do it. That was what you deserved, after all, and what he did, too.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky

[phasecornnuts]

I would love to power bottom Valentino from hazbin hotel ples 😏 also I LOVE angst so maybe a bit of that 😌 head cannons or a fic doesn’t matter I love words

Hello again whores! This is over 16k words…. I think I may have a problem, but I cooked so whatever

Tbh I may open writing commissions bc I love y’all but if I’m writing biblical epics I lowkey would appreciate being paid (college is expensive) 😭

CW: For general angst and Drug use

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

You hated working nights, but working for Val always meant you worked nights. If someone were to ask you to write a list of everything you disliked about the club, you’d swear the exterminators would be here by the time you were done with it. But alas, it was what it was and there was nothing you could do to change it. That fucking contract made sure of that.

There were a few things that could make your shift bearable though. You liked Angel, even though he didn’t really come by anymore because of that stupid hotel, you liked the free drinks, even though Val made sure they were watered down after you vomited on a customer, and you liked the pills Val would give you, even though they made you feel loopy when you preformed. Those were the shit. Grade A. Top tier. Happiness in a tablet the size of your fingernail.

In your dressing room you watched the clock, five minutes. God, you were already sweating in the shitty outfit Val made you wear for tonight. A frilly maid outfit with black lingerie underneath, the man wanted a strip-tease and he was gonna have it one way or another. With Angel gone, you were the only other person he thought was worth headlining. That felt good to hear, even if you were only second choice. Maybe Angel being gone was a good thing, not for him but for you, maybe Val would see that you’re better than him, that you tried more. Maybe then you could be the star, and not just the understudy. Maybe, maybe, maybe; The word’s rhythm wavered in your head.

Hoping for Val to want you was fruitless though, you knew. Angel was the golden goose- or spider, you supposed - and it would take an act of god for someone to eclipse him. You took your eyes off the clock, knowing getting lost in your thoughts would just lead to a spiral of self-loathing. You closed your eyes and released a heavy sigh. On your table, beside your makeup and phone stood a fluorescent orange bottle. Unscrewing the cap you let loose three in your palm before capping the bottle. You ran the pad of your thumb over the tiny white buttons, smooth and chalky, before placing them in a row on your tongue, all washed down with watery gin. A twisted communion.

You lean back in your chair, wondering when the pills are gonna kick in. About two minutes pass before you hear the door to your dressing room open and a tired waitress with smudgy blue eyeliner and a crooked wig tilts her head towards the hallway to tell you it’s time for you to get on stage. Walking past her, you can smell a heavy peach scented perfume she used to try to cover the smell of sweat. Your heels clacked on the tile floor as you walked up to the entrance of the stage. You scratched your back from the itchy fabric of the costume, then adjusted the tops of your stockings. The song that’s currently playing ends and the performer before you walks to the back, they’re huffing and tired. They stretch and pop their back before looking at you, mouthing “Good luck.” The DJ of the club took a beat before announcing you to the crowd. Rolling your shoulders, you walked on stage feeling the hot spotlights shine on you.

That’s when it hits.

All of the tension you held in your body lifted, and your mind began to swim as you felt the Oxy kick in. Fuck, they really were the best. They made you feel warm and floaty, made the world seem bearable. You swung your hips seductively as you sauntered to the pole, ready to begin your act. Looking around, all the faces of the crowd blended together. It felt like the world was painted in watercolor, all of its harsh edges gone, replaced with washes that drifted out into nothing.

A chemical confidence kicked in then. Those languid movements of yours had everyone entranced, grinding your sex to the pole as you teased eager watchers with a peek up your skirt. Over the music you could hear their hoots and wolf-whistles, then frenzy when you began to shimmy off your top, exposing that black bra you had on under. You throw it out into the crowd, grateful not to have that polyester piece of shit on you anymore. The way they all clamor to catch it made you bite your bottom lip with a smirk. They were all so pathetic.

You spun on the ball of your foot, but the weightlessness of your opioid addled body worked against you, making you fall. Luckily you caught yourself on your hands, pretending it was some sultry move like a lady in a porno. The crawling was good though, you pretended to fuck the stage before you got to the center. You leaned back on your hands, stretching out a heeled foot that they all begged to touch. One almost did, before you snatched it away.

Slipping off that ugly skirt and kicking it off into the drunken crowd felt so good. They were transfixed, enthralled, however you wanted to put it. Your high made everything better, blanketing your body in comfort- That was always the peak. Savoring those small moments that made them scream. Looping and spinning and sliding and going upside down, stretching your legs out spread-eagle. When you felt the room start to spiral you stopped with your back to it for support. With a fake sexiness you slid your hand down your stomach, into those thin painties before taking it out.

God, it felt good to be desired even if it was like this. Sure, Val didn’t want you, but they did. All those sinners and hell-born who clamored to touch you and have you touch them. How they fought over an ugly, scratchy top because you wore it.

Turning your head you saw a wide-eyed patron ignoring a half-drank glass. You smirk and crawl towards them, and their eyes turn to the size of saucers. Reaching the edge of the stage you lean over, hanging over their small table. You opened your mouth wide enough to kiss- But you didn’t. You let your tongue hang out of your mouth, letting a fat drop of spit land in their drink. That was all they could have of you; You smile and go back to the stage to continue your act.

You don’t know how long he’d been standing there when you saw him. Valentino. He nips at his cigarette while he looks at you, not knowing what he’s thinking. Your moves become bigger, looser, hoping to impress him. A glob of phlegm sits at the back of your mouth and you swallow, feeling the tenseness grow inside your body. I can be good too, see! I’m as good as Angel! Even better! Please…please don’t fire me.

He walks closer to the stage as you keep grinding on the pole. Your eyes meet for a second before you look away, unsure. When he reaches the edge of the stage is when you slam yourself to the floor- the crowd hollered. Val adjusts his glasses and takes a long, long drag from his cigarette. Your body cranes towards him, head lowered in reverence while you studied his face. Val was always so hard to read, that’s the thing you hated most about him - well, at least one of them- was he displeased, impressed, disinterested? Fuck if you knew.

With one hand he pinched your face, between his pointer and thumb. He pressed his mouth to yours, filling it with all of that warm smoke. The roof of your mouth hurt so much, but the rest of your body trembled. He’d never been this open, kissing you, watching you dance, it felt so, so good to have his attention. Val pulled away, pink cloud leaving your parted lips.

Valentino leaned in, “Meet me in the back.”

“I still have five minutes left…”

“I’m your boss.” There was a vague sternness to his words, what were five minutes compared to his regard?

You breathed heavily. “Gimme a second.”

Quickly as you could you got off stage. Your head was spinning and you couldn’t tell why- was it the Oxy? The drink? The dancing? The cigarette? All of them combined. The backstage was full of cold air, making goosebumps prickle over your legs. You crossed your forearms and leaned them on the wall. Eyes closed, you counted backwards from 100; 100, 99, 98, 97- Val with his cigarette showed up in your mind, how he pulled your mouth to his, how you shivered, how you liked it. You tried again, but he kept lingering. Another restart, going a bit longer this time, but you gave up somewhere around 56.

Through the backstage hallway you walked to the back, The Velvet Rooms. Those fancy, gilded places hidden away that only those Val liked - or who could afford it- could enter. Valentino hid himself away in the biggest one, a room within the wall closed off with heavy dark blue curtains. The Velvet Rooms were where Overlords and certain Goetia came to be spat on, spanked, and other “peculiar wants” that Val catered to.

Opening the curtains you were struck with the heavy scent of his smoke. You closed them shut, the room illuminated by a faint pink light. Val sat on the couch, legs spread wide and arms slung over the top, his heavy coat thrown to some unknown corner. Seeing him reminded you of how little clothes you had on. Val’s second set of arms beckoned you over, you obeyed. He rested them on your waist, idly feeling the texture of your garter belt.

“Good of you to come carino,” He kissed your stomach, tittering at the way you quivered. “You did so good I had to meet with you privately.”

“How could I deny you Valcito?” You responded in a honeyed tone that made him chuckle.

“Valcito?” He smirked.

“Aren’t you?” You tilt his head up to see your smiling face, dressed with sultry bedroom eyes, “My little Valcito who liked my dancing.”

Val showed off that gold tooth of his; He kissed your stomach again, leaving a little red mark.

You dropped your hands to his arms, sliding up to his biceps. You bit your lip, so hard and toned. For so long you were curious about Val’s body, his sex, his libido. You wondered what he did to Angel to make him so sore and his voice so hoarse. It was embarrassing how many nights you spent thinking about what he tasted like- though now there was no point, you knew now, cigarettes and citrus vodka.

The tips of his fingers traced along your hips, fingering the thin strap of your panties. Your voice grew weak as he nipped again and again at the soft flesh of your stomach. Mind in a daze, words slipped out of your mouth.

“You know, I’m surprised you called me back here…” A kitten-lick across your navel that made you squirm.

“Why’s that Carino? Don’t think you’re pretty enough?” His voice teased.

“I thought you didn’t like women”

“Why would you think that?” He looped his finger around the hip strap again

“Angel.” He snickered.

“Oh Carino, don’t worry. Angel is just the soup D’Jour,” His finger dipped forward along your hip bone, “Men, women; Women, men; all of those sweet things in-between, how could you pick just one?”

“How poignant.” You said with a bit of a flat affect. His waxing-poetic seemed so unimpressive to you. Though, you felt a stab of guilt for thinking so.

“You, Sugar, I just can’t deny,” Val moved his hands up along your torso, stopping just underneath your breasts, “Good tits, nice stomach, pretty face,” his attention went back to your panties, “You coulda been on the cover of Hustler. Hhhnn, maybe I’ll make you the centerfold this month…”

You leaned over him, pressing your face to his. Fuck, his tongue felt so good in your mouth, making your stomach start to knot and squirm. He took your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whine before you pulled away. Placing tiny nips on his neck, you felt the heat in your stomach grow hotter and hotter and turn to slick. You wanted to touch him, feel him, consume him, and be consumed.

Val pulled away for a second, but it felt like forever. He reached into a shallow pocket and produced a button of something. It was a tiny tablet, waxy and fat, and pinched between his two fingers. You wondered what it was, it didn’t look like Oxy. You hoped it was something stronger, desiring the out of body experience you’d been losing since you started to grow tolerant of the opiate.

“You ever play a game of rolling roulette Sugar?” Val asked, you shook your head no.

“You trade the X tongue to tongue, and whoever’s it dissolves on is the lucky winner.” Oh so it was Ecstasy, now that’s good shit.

Val pulled you onto his lap, cupping a breast, “C’mon Baby, let’s go on a trip together…”

That’s all it took.

The tiny pill teetered between both of your tongues as you kissed, growing smaller and smaller and smaller. Val’s spit was thick and sweet and wonderful, something about it making your body go alight with electricity. The X melted so easy, like blue cotton candy; You could feel the serotonin swell in your brain like a party balloon.

When the first roll happened you moaned into Val’s mouth. All of your nerves were standing on edge, shivering with anticipation. He removed your bra, placing a nipple in his mouth as you felt his cock grow harder. It felt so much better than your other highs. The Oxy only ever calmed things, washed them out. The X was so different, so so much better. Everything seemed to shimmer, like the whole world was wrapped in cellophane. How could you think the absence of feeling was so wonderful when this existed?

Your mind was in a twinkly daze when you started to undress him. He kissed and licked at your neck while you felt your way through unbuttoning his top. Fuck, his skin was so smooth and warm; He pressed you closer, teeth bit into your collar bone before dragging his tongue over the marks he left.

You kissed your way down Val’s body. At his chest you lingered, leaving tiny red marks on the trail to his V-line. Valentino’s head lolled back on the couch as you unzipped his cock with all of its dark hair. You put it in your hand, running your thumb over the leaking tip. He swore under his breath as you pumped him slowly, up and down up and down.

The warmth of your tongue dragged along his thick shaft. Your stomach gets a sharp squirm to it, same as your cunt. It’s hard to tell because of the drugs or how sexy Val looks with his legs wide open and his cock needy for your touch. Looking up at him, you’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

His breath hitched when you took him in your mouth. Your tongue twists and swirls around his cock, savoring the feeling of him hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. To try to calm that darling pain between your legs you rubbed your thighs together, but that didn’t help. All it served to do was make your cunt needier. You push his member deeper and deeper into your mouth; You moan into his sex, making him squeeze the palmful of hair he had in his hand tighter.

“You’re so good, Carino.” He says, breathless. You start to suck him faster, blowing and kissing and licking. Val kept sprinkling compliments throughout. It felt so good to be praised by him; All of those sweet things he’d save for everyone else, but never you. You’re so good, you’re so sexy, you take me so well, you’re so pretty, you make me so hard.

“‘M close.” He grabs your hair again, pulling your face in. Feeling devious, you pulled away, savoring the flustered look on his face. Val is huffing, fucked out, and dazed out of his goddamn mind on X.

“You can stand to wait a little longer Valcito~” You nip at the inside of one of his thighs, making his voice hitch into a falsetto. You dragged the tips of your fingers up to his sensitive stomach, mouth leaving a hard bite outline near his ribs. Tracing him was so wonderful, feeling all of those hard edges give into softness. Nursing on his neck, your thumb and forefinger followed his neck muscle and collarbone, dipping into their crevices.

“Valcito~” Your breath was hot against his neck. He mumbled something under his breath and tried to slip his hand into your panties. You caught his wrist and pushed it away, biting hard on his collarbone. You can wait.

Again your mouth found its way south, the want in your cunt becoming more and more painful. You took him in your mouth again, your saliva getting thick and syrupy. Val seized the opportunity and shoved your head down on his cock, chasing the release you denied him. Your teeth grazed his member before pulling away again. Val whined, his eyes pleading. A dark smile grew on your face before you took him again.

He let out a sharp breath and pressed his hands onto your scalp. You went faster, letting the flat of your tongue trace the vein on the underside of his cock. It was fun playing with him like this, having a little control with him for once. Val’s hands tensed in your hair when he warned you he was going to cum.

When he came he wailed, filling your mouth with his salty taste. Looking up at him, you opened your mouth. Val’s thumb traced your bottom lip, admiring his work.

“You look so good like this, Carino.” He huffed.

Pushing yourself from your knees you kissed Val, his seed still in your mouth. That’s all that took to make him go feral. He pulled you to his lap and laid you down, wrapping your legs around him. Without taking his mouth off yours he took his top off, ramming into your needy sex.

Fuck, Val was bigger than you thought he was. His pace was hard and fast, making you scratch your nails into his back. Your kiss tasted like everything good in the world- cum and grapefruit and cigarettes and cotton candy and euphoria. Both of you swallowed, pulling your faces away to catch your breaths. God, you were so wet, Val’s cock slipped in and out of you so easily and it felt so goddamn good. Better than any finger or cock or toy and it made you squeeze him tighter.

You pressed your forehead to his neck, mumbling nonsense. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Val spat on his fingers and slipped his hands between the two of you. You didn’t know what he was going to do until you felt his wet fingers graze your clit. He got rougher with it once he found it, making you squeal and cum on him.

That didn’t stop Val though, and god did it feel good. He kept fucking you through your release, making you cum another two times. Your legs felt like jelly, body weak and weightless. The X was releasing its last wave of chemical joy as he fucked you, pleasure rippling inside of you. He came inside you, making you sob into his neck. Val pressed you closer to him, whispering in your ear as you felt your release drip out of your cunt.

“You’re so good baby, so good and pretty.” Pleasepleasepleaseplease, say the magic words.

“I love you, you’re my perfect girl, my pretty baby.” You came again.

His thrusts got sloppier and you could tell he was gonna cum again. “Please, please, please, let me be your favorite, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” You whimpered.

The anticipation of an orgasm built up, shivering and needy. Val grazed your face and kissed you, “Oh you’re my favorite, baby. My little sullen girl~” He held you closer, savoring the way you squirmed when you came together.

When he was done he stayed inside you. Val pressed his head on the couch beneath you. You traced the scratches you left on his back, feeling your high from the X begin to ebb. Your breath felt so heavy and your mind so fuzzy. That all didn’t matter though, Val wanted you now. He’d been inside you, kissed you, felt you, squeezed you, and couldn’t get enough. He wanted you. So what if it was only for the moment, so what if this meant you could disappoint him, so what if you’re only a place-holder until someone better comes. You’re the favorite.

[breakaway71]

For the director's cut: there's a fire burning in my bones?

Oh, man, this fic. THIS FIC. This fic has been on my mind a lot, actually, since my current 9-1-1 WIP is less a general crossover, and more a stealth crossover with fire burning. So while it's primarily a 9-1-1 fic (the working title is buck sees dead people, and I'm trying very hard to write it in a way that no working knowledge of JATP is required), it's involved a lot of re-reading to make sure the crossover parts are consistent with the story. IDEK. Look, sometimes it's just better to let the muse have their way, and the muse was pretty demanding about this one. ANYWAY! Back in the golden days of the JATP fandom, I had a lot of ideas. It was a hyperfixation that hit hard, and I was jotting down story ideas faster than I could even start writing any of them. But when the Big Bang challenge came along, there was only one story I could even contemplate writing, and that was a story about Julie becoming a ghost. I knew I wanted it to be essentially a season 2 fic. And I knew I wanted Julie to experience being a ghost, but not have her actually have to die in any kind of permanent way. That was it. Everything else that happened throughout that entire story - the entire plot, really, and the ships and the soul bonding aspects in particular - were little "eureka!" moments I had in the course of writing. Usually these brainstorms hit at 3am and had me jotting notes in my fic notebook by flashlight:

Fire burning also never went through a significant editing process. Aside from general tweaks, I was deliriously happy with how the story turned out, considering I pantsed the hell out of it. The most interesting thing, for me, though: Originally, I thought this story would end up being gen fic, or maybe Julie/Luke. When Reggie found her in the music room... Look, you know how it feels when something just unlocks inside you? And you're like "MY GOD. YES. THIS." That scene, the opening to fire burning, was my first real PING! moment about Julie and Reggie. (And I was clearly doomed forever after that moment.) Reggie wasn't even originally the one who was supposed to find her! But I wanted so badly to show the balance of her friendship with all three of the boys, so I decided it made more sense for it to be someone other than Luke in that scene. And the way everything fell into place after that, right up until the first true OT3 scene, happened almost entirely by accident. I fell in love with the idea of all of them together much the same way Julie did. A little at a time until it felt more like an inevitability, and I couldn't even pinpoint the moment I realized it was going to happen. Also: I had two absolute favorite scenes in this fic. The first is when Julie is sitting at the piano, and feels Reggie's teardrop on her hand, from where he's sitting and watching over her body in the hospital. If I was capable of serious art, that is the scene I wish I could somehow convey in visual form, which is probably why Reggie's POV ended up being the first timestamp I wrote. My other favorite scene was after the ritual, where Julie can finally 'talk' to her dad and tells him about dating Luke and Reggie. Writing Ray will always be a personal favorite for me (Family Matters was another story that happened mostly by accident tbh), and trying to determine what his reaction would be in that situation was stupid amounts of fun. WHEW OKAY I HOPE I'M DOING THIS RIGHT AND YOU ENJOYED THIS BIT OF COMMENTARY!

[easily-distracted-ivashkov]

Honestly I saw this tiktoker who made a really good point, who said. For those that do not like Adrian in the VA series, it's more than likely due to Rose not begin that into him. We are getting her pov and thoughts. So since she doesn't like Adrian, some fans may feel the same way.

I took that to mean, in Bloodlines because it's much more of a slow burn romance, we are seeing more of Adrian's vulnerable and emotional side. Rose in VA just writes him off as this party guy womanizer. But Sydney see more than that. She pretty much tells Adrian, you can drop that I don't really care act. Cause I'm not buying, you can do great things and you know it. And that is when I think Adrian really started to fall for Sydney. He couldn't impress her with his title, money or looks. He really had to show her his mind and have his actions speak for him. Sydney is an Aquarius, showing who you really are is going to win them over (I know I have an Aquarius). That is probably why us Adrian stans since VA, fight so hard for him and tell people to read Bloodlines. He is much much deeper in Bloodlines than VA.

Also side note I can't stop laughing at the fact that all three of them are Fire Signs. Cause it explains so much about their love triangle 😂😂🥴

- Golden Ruby 💠💍

Hello Anon! I haven't gotten any of these in a long time so first off, thank you for taking the time out of your day to send this wonderful message to me!!!

Second, I agree with you entirely!!! The first six books are as you pointed out, told from Rose's point of view and we can tell right from the get-go that she didn't exactly like him so of course even while they dated, she was bound to have poor thoughts about him (one scene that comes to mind immediately is when Adrian was drinking after Tatiana was murdered and Rose saw him through Lissa's eyes and straight up referred to him as a coward over his only way of knowing how to cope. Something that truthfully made me lose some respect for her tbh).

Third, Adrian is a WONDERFUL character and is my favorite for many reasons! He has his own demons and struggles he battles with constantly (keeping his literal sanity in check is only one of them). And I'm so glad he and Sydney ended up together because there's genuine love and care for each other; that's what Adrian honestly deserved through everything was just love and someone to care about him. (Another scene came to mind from the books of Adrian mentioning how he never imagined himself being anyone cried over). I think a lot of people often forget that while yes he was spoiled and rich, he still seemed very neglected and not to mention all of the verbal abuse from Nathan. I can honestly go on and on about Adrian but again, he is a character with depth and I truly don't think he deserves any of the hate that he gets. He just wanted to be loved, that was all.

[dtothe4th]

Wob book three

as the three set out they follow the mystical seersbug’s ways of the stars. they are currently talking crochetsbug and hammersbug’s ears off about their special interest which this month is quilting which they learned from a bug in townsquare called quiltsbug who only makes quilts to keep the bugs warm in the rain and the cold seasons. since their food and water were taken care of they kinda just switched to caring about physical goods and it made a huge techonal leap but they still liked quilts because quilts are simple and warm and also quiltsbug was very popular as one of the few prominent softbugs to break into carapacebug society. so seersbug was talking about quilting techniques and crochetsbug was talking about how her hook is an ancient artifact that was used for creating and crafting similar objects but it was a bigperson method not like tbh e bug methods of holding fabric together like quiltsbug does and hammersbug this whole time was just scouting out things to cook because he was just so jazzed about cooking that's all he ever thought of really. they came across a magnificent rainforest on their way to the cave which was a little odd and concerning considering C&B never had mentioned a rain forest and in fact mentioned several cacti which would indicate a desert like climate if anything but seersbug was adamant as fuck about this and they mentioned how yggdrasil’s golden liquid from the ancient kingsbug’s death could have repopulated the desert and turned it into a rainforest which made sense to them so they just went with it. hammersbug was now leading with his sharp chef knifes and other instruments, slicing vines and saving the particularly thick and juicy ones in his pack pack for when they made camp so he could cook them up a delicious soup and a tea that sort of gave them psychadelic visions so they only pretended to drink it after the first night because it wasn't the time to be tripping they were on a very important quest. the rainforest was sort of scary actually there was a lot of noise even through the night but they never found another creature, not until they came across a small river running through a clearing in the rainforest where they spotted a gaggle of snails feeding and drinking from the stream. now snails might be considered bugs to some taxonomists but these were most certainly not normal members of the kingdom of bugs: in fact they had most likely never even heard of it this far out. crochetsbug and her perfect middleground and approachability went up to them and introduced her party with seersbug and bammersbug. hammersbug came to them with a delicious dish he cooked up of fried berry glaze but the snails just stared at them with wide eyes.

the snail closest to them turned around and ducked it's head down low emenating a low voice with words they couldn't understand. another snail with a slightly higher but still extremely deep voice seemed to reply and shake its head but the first snail nodded sharply and said something back that sounded sort of aggressive. the second snail backed off and went back to drinking water. in a very broken and stilted manner but in the language of the bugs, the snail explained that the bugs were in grave danger if they continued this way. there was a huge bird - alive - and it was hunting the snails. they must leave immediately through the way they came as if they went past the stream they were in bird territory. at this time the party noticed that most of the snails had come to their side of the river after taking a sip and or a quick bath, and looked to the one they were talking to for advice or something. main dude explained that some of these snails’ families were still in bird territory and that he and a few other of the women were to go back and save them. their shells were hardier than the rest and could survive a peck or two probably. seersbug used two of their eyes and looked at the tough hammersbug, who shrugged his himbo shrug. he with his girth and power could definitely shield them from the pecks, and crochetsbug’s hook could fight back. they were to escort the headsnail and the others who were returning to save some more snails back to their snail nest or whatever they lived in while these guys here could evacuate in safety. seersbug gave them a crude map of the area that they had drawn and pointed them towards the kingdom of bugs if they ever needed a place to stay. they followed head snail slowly into bird territory with hammersbug taking the lead. seersbug was directly behind him, hiding their soft body from harm. crochetsbug was holding up the rear and coated her shiny metal hook in slime and grime and dirt and mud as to not attract the bird. a couple of times they hear flapping and chittering above so they stopped in their tracks and hid under a leaf or something but before long they were at the snails’ abode. they actually lived in sickass tree houses that the party had literally no idea about, serves them right for judging and assuming so quickly. they climbed up the ladder ana stairs to the bunkers in the centers of the trees where the baby snails and some of the fathers were hiding. they brought them out slowly and the party stood watch outside. they grabbed their important goods, social security cards, vaccine cards, birth certificates etc. and stashed them in their shells. they were now on their way out down the treehouses and seersbug made sure to check this off on their map: this place was dope as fuck and definitely something to visit with a bigger group maybe after the bird threat was dealt with. so they went down the treehouse when suddenly the bird swooped down.

it was magnificent and massive, a huge silver golden beak and bright green feathers. it's eyes seemed of fire and when it opened it's beak there wasn't a tongue but a cryogenics freeze pod there. Who the hell could be inside of that? it squacked and landed atop the roof of the nearest treehouse, leaning down to peck with its silver and golden beak of not just color but pure metal. it was hard. the snails screamed as did the party, but hammersbug’s tough outer shell was able to protect against a beak attack. as the bird drew back for a second attack crochetsbug swung her beautifully powerful hook against its beak and.. it just bounced off. metal on metal didn't work that well. the bird seemed to laugh though it's mouth surely could not contort in the way to produce one: was this an effect of hammersbug’s psychadelic tea? or perhaps something more at foot. either way the bird reeled back for a second peck and struck hard right between the ridges of hammersbug’s thick back shell. he fell to the ground wounded and out of breath. it was crochetsbug’s one opportunity to attack but just as she reeled her hook back the head snail jumped on. He looked at her and in broken buglanguage said do it… she launched head snail directly at the bird and he landed on its eyes, sliming jt up. the bird flapped its wings and squacked wildly, flailing and screaming and crying trying to get this damn snail off. as it's beak was open crochetsbug stuck her hook into its mouth and ripped out the weird cryopod thing. as she did the bird was engulfed in sparks of blue electricity and it froze in place, falling to the ground. face first it planted into the dirt below like some sort of demented statue of organic tissue. the main snail managed to jump off mid-fall but his foot was injured. his husband came up to him and got him back up again, giving him a big kiss on the shell for being so brave and saving the entire village. he called to the other snails to go and retrieve the ones who evacuated: they could come home!! it was so wonderful. seersbug crawled over to hammersbug who was still on the floor reeling from the pain of the peck. his shell was cracked a little bit now holy shit. he was leaking a little intracellular fluid but seersbug was able to use their slimy grimy body to guck it up and stem the fluid loss. the good thing about softbugs is they they had the ability to heal from a lot and thus seersbug was able to grant this ability to others if they had so pleased.

able to get up now, hammersbug joined seersbug and together they joined crochetsbug who was looking at the weird chamber they had pulled from the bird’s mouth. it was much much too small to be a pod for a big being but it also didn't fit the scale of the snails or other animals: it must be a bug. who the hell put it inside the bird’s mouth though that was really weird. either way crochetsbug’s curiosity was really getting the better of her at this point and she pressed the giant red open button that was on the side of the pod. the door slowly opened to the side and slid off with a lot of smoke and the feeling of exoskeleton-chilling cold filling the area. they all coughed and gacked but when the smoke cleared they looked down to see a small and frail bug: but it was neither carapacian bug nor softbug nor anything inbetween; it was an ancient bug. the same race of bugs that the philosophersbug that seersbug had been a part of. this bug had been here eons and eons longer than any bug alive on earth but how did they have technology that powerful so years ago… this ancient bug sat up in their pod and looked around, laughing and giggling and gawking at the surroundings. They looked up and said it worked! wow! it worked! except it was very old time accent sounding like sort of shakespearean in tone in iambic pentameter and everything. they explained that they were the futuresbug and that a terrible calamity had struck the ancient bugs. one that they had hoped to avoid by adapting some big being tech they had the blueprints for. and it Fucking worked. they were now here billions of years after the calamity had apparently struck and were now alive. hammersbug asked how the hell they got into that bird and futuresbug was very confused. they didn't put themselves into a bird, they said. they had a room in their colony specifically for futuresbug and others like them. yeah that's right others survived too. seersbug’s bug ears perked up a little because they thought philosophersbug could still be alive maybe… but futuresbug had no clue how they ended up in that state. so weird and odd. crochetsbug then asked of what calamity had struck them? and futuresbug said Yggdrasil.. at this time seersbug’s third eye saw a red flare in the sky.. oh my goodness a war..

[goldengoddess]

hi i have a kaz x reader request!! can you do one where kaz proposes to the reader?? that seems so cute tbh

will you marry me - kaz brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

a/n: i listened to helpless from the hamilton musical while writing this so do with that what you will,,,, kaz would definitely do this just so u know (idk if kaz would consider marrige but if he did this is how it would go)

warnings: nothing ?? proposals ? kaz it a tiny bit more touchy :)

kaz brekker was not one for romantic gestures, frankly he it quite the opposite. every confession of love was silent, hidden, usually given in the privacy of his room.

but he knew you.

and he knew that proposals were meant to be romantic gestures. they were meant to represent the start of a different era of love. he’d heard you tell nina about a hundred times how romantic your parents proposal had been. he’d seen the dreamy look in your eyes the time a public proposal had happened in front of the two of you.

so he was dead set on making sure his proposal to you was everything you wanted it to be. and if there was one thing dirty hands was good at, it was making a solid plan. and a couple solid back up plans.

so he was very annoyed to see your annoyed face on the morning he was going to propose to you. 

you grumbled as you walked across the room to the kitchen where you could finally get some coffee. over her own mug, nina chuckled at your state. “looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed” she giggled and took a sip of what was probably hot chocolate. 

you mumbled a quick ‘fuck you’ and made your way closer to kaz. you quickly planted a good morning kiss on his cheek like you always did. it was part of your routine, that way he knew it was coming and was never surprised or taken aback by the act. your grumpy mood chipped away a little at the way that kaz’s lips quirked upwards as you pulled away. 

you shuffled over to the coffee pitcher just as jesper made his way into the room. he was humming something under his breath and you leaned your head closer so you could listen.

you furrowed your brows in confusion, “jesper? why are you humming the wedding song?”

he stopped in his tracks and shared a quick look with nina and then kaz. he turned to you and grinned, “no reason! just in a good mood, excited for our job later today.”

you huffed and shook your head, “at least one of us is.”

the rest of the day went by the way they always do before a big heist: slowly. it consisted of jesper running around the slat pumped up with too much adrenaline. inej taking out all of her smaller knives from their hiding spots (who knew she kept three under the couch cushions) and strapping them to her sides. wylan drawing out the outline of the mercher house one more time. matthias grumbling about the legality and necessity of what they were doing. nina sitting on his lap so he would shut up. 

and kaz, your sweet kaz, going over the plan in his head while observing you. 

later on, as you were all in your respective positions for the job, you couldn’t help but wonder why kaz had paired the two of you together. when the two of you had started dating, he had told you that he couldn’t trust his own instincts around you. and for that reason, you were always paired with another crow and he usually worked with jesper of inej. but not tonight. 

“kaz?” you questioned, “why are you and i working together tonight?”

you didn’t notice the way his hands hesitated on the lock that he was currently trying to pick. he turned to you and your breath caught in your throat, like you were seeing him for the first time again. it was midnight, there was little light anywhere. but somehow the moonlight illuminated kaz’s face perfectly. he looked beautiful. 

he shrugged and went back to his lock, “just thought it could be interesting to switch things up. this job is simple enough, nothing will go wrong.”

his words set you off slightly. your kaz would never take a chance like that. it wasn’t his style. kaz tended to ignore the odds, but never when it came to you. he’d promised a long time ago to not let his own grudges or greed put you in harms way. what was different about tonight?

before you could ask him, the lock clicked open and kaz swung the door to the hallway open. he extended his arm in invitation, “after you.”

you narrowed your eyes at him but stepped into the room. you took a deep breath and felt yourself relax at the oddly familiar scent of roses. you scanned the room and felt a smile slip into your face at the sight of yellow roses. waking closer to them, you ghosted your hands over the petals. 

you looked over at kaz with a small smile, and found he was already smiling at you. “your favorite flower” he said, stepping right next to you. 

you nodded your head in awe, you hadn’t seen yellow roses in a very long time. kaz dipped his hand into the vase and snapped the step of one of the flowers. he turned to you and handed you a single rose. you grinned and took the flower from him, tucking it gently into your backpack. “thank you honey” you giggled and then quietly moved down the hall. 

kaz stopped you in front of a room with a golden and elaborately decorated door. he motioned for you to open the door and you nodded your head, following his instruction. when you walked in the room was practically empty. the only thing inside was a glass case at the center of the room. you tip toed closer and found a tiny jewelry box. you slowly opened the glass casing and grabbed the small jewelry box, assuming this was the ‘big prize’ kaz had claimed they would find during this job. 

“open it” you heard kaz say from behind you. 

so without looking at him, you opened the tiny black box. what was inside, took the air out of your lungs. it was a tiny silver ring with a shiny black stone at the center. without realizing, you let out a little gasp. 

you started turning your body to face kaz, “kaz what is-”

but before you could say anything you found kaz kneeling on one knee, firmly holding onto his cane for the balance. you let out yet another gasp and nearly dropped the likely expensive ring in your hand. 

“angel” he started speaking

“kaz,” you interrupted him breathlessly, “what are you doing?”

he gave you his favorite mischievous smile, the smile that didn’t quiet reach his eyes but shined playfully in his eyes. “i’m doing my best to propose darling.”

another gasp on your part. 

he chuckled, “i have spent a lot of my life closing off my heart. making it impossible to reach. but then you came along and broke down my walls brick by brick. and impossibly, my heart became yours forever. so i thought it was only appropriate to put a much deserved ring on your finger. so, what do you say angel? will you marry me?”

you let out a small sniffle, happy tears falling down your cheeks. “yes! i want to marry you, i do!” you laughed happily and rushed over to kaz.

you helped him to his feet and he smiled, “excited are we? you’re not supposed to say ‘i do’ just yet darling.”

you lightly punched his shoulder. you moved your eyes to his lips and then back to his eyes, asking for permission. his grin and the quick nod of his head told you everything and you surged forward to kiss him. 

after a few seconds you pulled back and you know that you’ve never smiled as brightly as you are in that moment, “you never fail to surprise me brekker. can’t believe you pulled off a fake heist just for me.”

“i’d do anything for you” he answered quickly. 

“even marry me?”

“especially marry you.” 

taglist;

@vintagebitc @obiwansjedi @thegirlwiththeimpala @hybrid-in-progress @mrs-brekker15 @mrsbrekkers @simplyluvzuko @ode-to-joy @gallysonegoodlung @sixofshadowandbone @castielcouldbeasecretdentist @meiitanoia @caaarstairs @itisroe @the-jess-life @xsamsharons @heavenlymidnight @wtfrae @dreamer-writer-fangirl @bookishcrows @tulipsxbooks @thehighladyofday @seven-halfbloods

if your name is in bold it means i couldn’t tag you!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Do Us Part

Warnings: nonconsent and rape; oral, fingering, marital discord, cheating, spousal arguments and mental/emotional abuse, age gap (Peter is 24/25 and reader is 35/36)

This is dark!Peter Parker x 30s/’older’ reader and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find it hard to accept that not all good things last as you face the changes in your marriage, yourself, and your marriage.

Note: I wanted to write Peter again but also I’ve seen this nonsense about how 30+ writers are too old for fanfic which is dumb af. And I wanted to turn the age gap trope a little so that it wasn’t the reader being the younger one in the relationship. I label it older reader but I don’t think being in your 30s is old tbh (my bf is 36 so pfft). It was all just a conglomeration of circumstances that inspired a deceivingly sweet dark Peter and I hope you like it. Also it’s 7.4k so a bit of a longer read.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You walked slowly along the transparent shelves set into the pristine white walls of the cosmetics section. The department store was a haze of distant voices and the chirp of scanners as customers milled the aisles and waited their turn to check out. You whiled away your time looking at things you’d never buy as you waited for your husband to return from the men’s department.

You thought of the sparse make-up bag under your sink and the liners and shades you hadn’t used in years. They were likely expired and better tossed in the bin. You hovered along the crystal bottle of designer scents and stopped to test a particular blush-tinted fragrance.

You set the bottle back and peered over at the dark cubbies that housed the men’s scent. Even from there, you could catch a whiff of the heady scents as a younger man with reddish brown hair examined an angular vial of Dior Men. You suddenly felt out of place; a mid-thirties woman in her out-of-season clothes fantasizing about overpriced perfume.

Your husband's voice further cemented your reality as you fingered the golden cap of the Coach eau du parfum. Wesley rolled his eyes and flipped up the little plastic panel that hid the bold prices and huffed.

“I hope you don’t think I’m gonna pay for that shit,” he sneered, “what have you been doing? I was waiting for you.”

He waved a plastic bag as his lip curled and you pressed your mouth shut tightly and swallowed. The day began with another argument as he discovered the seared hole in his shirt and instead of blaming the crappy old dryer, he blamed you. Most of your clothes had been chewed up by the thing but you never complained.

“No, I was just… looking,” you teetered in your flats and glanced around. The young man at the corner display quickly turned to hide his nosy observation, “did you find some new shirts?”

“No thanks to you,” he sniffed.

“Oh,” you played with the hem of your tee and tucked your hands into your pockets nervously. You’d left him to look alone as you only seemed to irritate him and rarely took your advice on matters of clothing, “well, I thought I’d give you some space--”

“Stop acting so pathetic. Start taking responsibility for yourself. For god’s sake, you're almost thirty-six and you don’t know how to hang a shirt to dry?” He spun on his heel and snapped over his shoulder, “let’s go.”

You flinched but followed behind him as he strode away and you stumbled out behind him through the automatic doors. He tossed the bag into the back seat and slammed the door before flopping angrily into the driver’s side. You mirrored him daintily and squeezed your legs together as you tried to make yourself as small as you could.

“I told you about the dryer,” you said.

“And?” he started the engine and slapped his hand around the wheel, “call a fucking electrician or some shit.”

“Alright,” you shrugged as he stopped at the exit of the parking lot and checked his phone quickly.

“Benny wants to do a round of golf,” he peeled out and you grasped the door as your heart raced. You hated how reckless he was when he was angry. You hated how easily he got angry these days.

“Okay,” you picked at the fraying stitching of your purse.

“Don’t start moping,” he sneered, “I fucking work all week and I can’t go out and have a few rounds?”

“I never-- I didn’t say anything,” you murmured.

“You don’t need to,” he turned the wheel sharply as he cut off another car, “you sit at home all day and do what?”

“I work too,” you said.

“Uh huh, sure, if that’s what you call it.”

You ran your fingertip over the bleach stain on the knee of your jeans and said nothing. When he was in a mood, he would latch on anything until he outright exploded. You tried to think of when he changed, when he had stopped being the chill guy you met back in college. It felt like a slow trickle, small things you ignored until it was a mountain you could not see past.

You felt like crying but you’d stopped that a while ago. You existed in a purgatory of acceptance and helplessness. You wanted him to love you again, wanted to believe you could fix things. So you would keep trying. You would do better.

💍 

You picked out a large flank of steak and winced at the price. You had a special dinner in mind. It was Friday and the work week was done. You wanted a weekend without a fight and Wesley was always one for a nice big cut of beef. You hadn’t made him one in a while, your dinners were the usual repetitive drumsticks and rice or your homemade mac and cheese.

You continued onto the fish section and grabbed some salmon for yourself. You’d gained some weight and decided to cut out dairy and red meat if you could help it. The pile of produce in your cart reminded you of the extra jiggle around your stomach and thighs. You also grabbed one of those women’s magazines that advertised a regimen to help slim your figure. You only hoped you could stick to it this time.

With your weekly haul in tow, you wheeled up to the check-out and waited behind a young man who looked oddly familiar to you. Maybe that was the passing years. You always felt a vague glimmer of deja vu, more often a sense of forlorn nostalgia of what you would never have again.

As you stared thoughtlessly, he looked over and smiled. He bent in front of your cart and picked up a thin packet of seasoning. 

“You dropped this,” he said as he held it out and you thanked him before quickly snatching it and looking away. 

He paid for his large bags of chips and over salted pre-packaged meals and packed up at the end as you loaded up your own goods, the cashier sending them down the parallel belt. You swiped your card and tried to calculate the chunk of money from your last check. You thanked the clerk and sidled past the young man as he finished up.

You rounded the counter as he lifted his three bags. You looked up without thinking, the sleeve of his shirt tight around his bicep. You caught yourself staring and looked back down as you packed in the cans. 

It reminded you of Wesley; he’d also started being more mindful, he hit the gym after work and you noticed the little pudge that started just after he turned thirty was slimming out. It was that exact reason that made you notice the extra pounds on your own frame, not that you didn’t realise before.

The man left and you unfolded the little buggy you slid under the cart. You loaded your bags into it and dragged the cart behind you as you made an awkward exit with both wheeled trolleys. The compact fabric buggy was easy enough to fit on the bus if you stood.

You pushed the cart into the row of empty ones and continued across the parking lot. You rolled up to the bus shelter and checked the bus times on your phone. You dug out your strip of tickets and ripped one away. You leaned on the thin handle of your trolley and looked over your shoulder as you heard someone approach.

The man who checked out ahead of you put his bags on the metal bench inside the shelter as he sipped on a bright drink from the place just beside the grocery shop. He sent you a smile over his straw and you spun back to crane your head and search for the bus.

When the metal beast barreled up and cranked to a stop at the curb, the man waited behind you and as your wheels caught on the edge of the ramp, he reached around you and helped push it over the lip. You thanked him shyly and continued up. Usually you tried to keep the shop light on weekdays but you hadn’t really been paying attention.

You pushed your cart against the small barrier just behind the accessible seating and stood beside it, conscious not to take up too much space. The man stood just behind you two bags on one shoulder and the other dangling from the opposite elbow as he sucked on his straw. You grabbed the upright bar as the bus took off and watched the electronic banner for your stop.

A sharp stop had you veering back and you were caught by the young man as he chucked, “oop, you okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” you muttered and gave a sheepish smile over your shoulder.

“There’s a seat,” he gestured just behind you, “I’ll watch your stuff.”

“Um, no it’s… fine,” you gripped the bar tighter as the bus shuttled forward, “my stop is soon.”

You looked ahead of you and three stops passed before yours. You exited through the front with your buggy and headed down the sidewalk as the bus pulled away. You were exhausted just from your little sojourn and it wasn’t even two o’clock. God, you felt old.

💍

You had a salad chopped and tossed and the steak and fish laid out and seasoned. As you listened to your old Spotify list, the music dipped and the notification blipped over the screen. You washed your hands and grabbed the phone. You frowned as you read the lone message from Wesley, the only one you got from him all day.

‘Just finished at the gym, getting drinks with Andrew,’ you read and re-read the message as your heart fell.

You typed out a whole angry response and backspaced it all. You replaced it with ‘ok, have fun’ and blacked the screen. You shoved the meat back in the fridge and stretched saran wrap over the bowl of salad. You placed it on a lower shelf and closed the door, quickly swiping a can of the craft beer Wesley kept around.

You shut the light off in the kitchen and ignored the pang in your stomach as you cracked the can. You climbed the stairs as you sipped the hoppy foam. You put it on the night table and changed into the old butterfly pajamas you wore most nights and turned on the tv mounted against the wall. 

You turned on Netflix but hardly paid attention to the carelessly chosen movie. You sat against the headboard and down the bitter beer until the can was hollow and your eyelids were heavy. You slumped down so that your shoulders were at your ears and dozed off in the stiff position as the room moved with the colours of the television. 

The anger and alcohol shaded your shallow sleep and you hardly heard Wesley when he came in, only waking when your bladder was ready to burst and his snores rumbled in your head. You went to the bathroom and returned, wide awake, and stared at the shape of him in the dark.

You remembered when he used to kiss you when he came home, even when you were asleep, he’d wake you with the little pecks. You remembered when he was happy to come home. You remembered when you were happy. 

You swallowed the acrid aftertaste of beer and left him to snore. You went downstairs and curled up on the couch but didn’t sleep. You just stared at the shadows of the furniture until the sun rose.

💍

The next day, Wesley didn’t wake until after noon and when he did, he didn’t say a word to you. He took his coffee and sat at the patio table in the back as you stewed and cleaned the kitchen. You had nothing to say to him even if you felt stupid for being mad.

“Gotta head down to the dealership,” he said as he interrupted your scouring of the stove.

“The dealership?” you said after a moment, deciding whether or not to break your vow of silence.

“I told you on Wednesday, I’m picking up the car--”

“We talked about this. We should wait a little longer--”

“It’s my money and I got a great price,” he sighed, “just because you have to pinch your pennies--”

“We’re married,” you squeezed the foam sponge, “it’s our money. Don’t act like I don’t pay for anything around here.”

“Oh thanks, honey, so wonderful you paid for a five dollar steak,” he scoffed, “I’ll be impressed when you can make a mortgage payment on your own.”

“How dare you!” you turned your back to him and kept scrubbing, “fine, but not a penny of my money is going to that thing.”

“That’s fine, I’m selling the old one, that should cover most of it--”

“What?” you slammed your hand between the burner, “you said we would hold onto it so I had something to--”

“Then you can buy it from me,” he said venomously.

“I’m your wife,” you spun to scowl at him again, “I-- what is wrong with you?”

He tilted his head and squinted as he poked his tongue out along his lip. “Nothing wrong with me,” he shrugged, “what’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t--” you warned as you pointed a finger at him through the bright yellow gloves, “don’t do that… I’ve been trying and you just keep pushing me away.”

“Me pushing you away?” he rolled his eyes, “you were passed out last night when I got home. Maybe if you didn’t fall asleep before nine I could actually fuck you… or at least get it up if you worked on losing some of that cellulite on your ass.”

Your lip quivered and you sucked in a breath. You shook your head and turned around again. You ignored him as your hand shook and you continued your work, scratching at the dried-on food around the burner. His empty mug clinked onto the counter and you listened to his exit.

Fuck him and his new car. You were done trying with him.

💍

Wesley’s new car was shrouded in the shade of the garage as the old black Hyundai sat out on the driveway with a red and white “For Sale” sign on the windshield. Right after he got back from his extravagant purchase, he made the listing online and several perusers stopped by Saturday night but Sunday morning saw the car still there.

You sat by the border of stones around the garden as he drank beer in the garage and approached any interested buyers who appeared; although so far he’d only had two before noon.

You tucked your clippers into your apron pocket and dusted off your gloves as you stood. You were a little dizzy from sitting out in the sun and a glass of water was the perfect excuse to drown out the annoying sound of your husband’s voice.

You ignored Wesley as you trod through the garage and kicked your sneakers off on the mat right before the three steps up to the house. You went to the kitchen and put your gloves on the counter as you filled a glass from the dispenser on the front of the fridge. You’d given up everything but water and the slices of lemon were the only flavour you had.

You took the glass and your gloves and headed back. Wesley waited just at the bottom of the stairs as he glared up at you with arms crossed. You sighed and descended but he didn’t let you pass.

“What is your problem?”

“Are you really asking me that?” you hissed.

“You giving me the silent treatment isn’t gonna fix this,” he snarled.

“You know what you said so… I shouldn’t have to tell you to apologize,” you retorted and he stayed put.

“Is this about the car?”

“The car is just another thing,” you cross an arm around your stomach, “you think I couldn’t use it to get around, to get the groceries maybe? Or, I don’t know, maybe since you have such a problem with my home office, I could go out and get a ‘big girl’ job as you put it so many times--”

“Your mother has a car she never drives. You can just take her with you, two birds, one stone. I need to sell this to pay for the new one--”

“The one I begged you not to buy,” you huffed, “you could’ve waited a few more years until we were a little more comfortable--”

“Oh, wait? Until we have a kid and all my money goes to it,” he snapped, “yeah, I’m sure we’d have the money then--”

“You’d have to fuck to do that,” you stepped down the last step and pushed past him.

As you came into the sunlight and shielded your eyes, a figure stood by the garden, knelt just by your tulips as he felt the soft petals. You narrowed your eyes. You recognized him for sure. It was the stranger from the bus.

“Um, hi?” you croaked as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Hey, it’s… you again,” he chuckled softly as he stood, “I saw an ad for a car and… well, I’m getting tired of the bus.”

“Oh, uh, my husband,” you pointed over your shoulder, “you’ll have to talk to him.”

“Okay,” he smiled, “Peter,” he held out his hand and you stared at it. You introduced yourself and shook his firm grip.

“Like I said, it’s my husband selling the car,” you brushed by him and got to your knees by the flowerbed. “Unless you’re looking to buy some wilting pansies.”

“Hmm, I like the tulips better,” he said as he slowly inched away, “thanks.”

You sat back on your heels and he strode over to the open garage. You heard Wesley greet him and didn’t bother paying attention to the same pitch you’d heard all morning. You pulled on your gloves and wiggled your nose as it tingled. You really just wanted to keel over and bawl.

“Sold,” Wesley announced and you heard a clap, “all yours!”

“I’ll just transfer the deposit,” Peter said and a minute passed before he emerged again, the keys hanging from his finger, “Thanks, Wes.”

You hid your distaste. It used to be that Wesley hated being called ‘Wes’ but lately, he introduced himself to everyone as just ‘Wes’. He really had changed. You must have too.

“Hey,” you looked up and blinked as the sun made your eyes water as it shone around Peter.

“You bought it?” you asked as you yanked free a weed.

“Yep, but uh,” he glanced over his shoulder as the old car stereo Wesley used blared out a classic rock tune, “I… wasn’t eavesdropping but I heard some of it and… if you ever need a ride to the grocery store, I usually try for Wednesdays,” he tucked his hand in his pocket, “I don’t live too far and since we go to the same one--”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that,” you looked back to the soil, embarrassed.

“Well, if you change your mind,” he kept the keys dangling from one finger and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and slid out a card with some effort, “I’m supposed to have these handy but I never really use them.”

He offered the business card and you read his name above the title, ‘senior photographer’. You gave a half-hearted smile and put it in your apron pocket.

“Thanks,” you said, “I can manage.”

“You don’t have to though,” he said kindly, “but I’ll, uh, leave you to your gardening. Sorry if I bugged you.”

“You didn’t,” you assured without looking up, flattered that anyone cared enough to even offer help.

“Hey, Pete,” Wesley stopped Peter as he neared the car, “you can have one before you go.”

“Oh, no, I’m gonna be driving,” Peter argued.

“Pfft, it’s a celebration and one won’t put you over the limit,” Wesley insisted and handed him a dark bottle of craft brew, “come on.”

“I really should go--”

“It’s a Sunday, where do you need to be?” Wesley patted his shoulder and looked over at you, “hey, honey, you wanna see if we have any snacks for our guest?”

“I’m not hungry,” Peter said curtly, “really. Just the beer is fine.”

They disappeared back into the garage and you cringed. You hated that. Wesley only every acted like a husband when others were around.

💍

You waited a whole week before returning to the grocery store. You were short on everything and it was a reason to get out of the house. Your husband had made both your home and your workplace hostile.

It irked you that Wesley resented you working from home when a couple years ago he was so happy about it. Then, he’d been so enthusiastic about starting a family but when it didn’t happen right away, he grew disillusioned and bitter. Now, he seemed to have no interest in being a husband let alone a father.

As you packed up your spinach and bottles of Perrier, your cart rolled just a little as someone nudged it from the other end. You raised your head and hid your surprise and discomfort as Peter smiled back at you.

“I thought you said Wednesdays,” you murmured as you dropped a bag in your cart.

“I forgot eggs,” he held up the carton, “I guess I have good timing.”

“You do?” you asked as you pulled your cart forward and maneuvered around to push it out of the way of fellow shoppers. You bent to grab your trolley from beneath and he caught it as you unfolded it.

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

“I told you--”

“I’m here so why not? Save the ticket for next time,” he urged.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does it matter? Why do I matter to you?” you asked.

“I don’t know, I… like helping people,” he shrugged, “what if I told you you were helping me? I have this horrible need to be the hero.”

“That will go away,” you muttered under your breath and he lifted a brow, “sorry, I… thank you.”

“Alright, let’s go then,” he collapsed the trolley and carried it easily under his arm as he cradled his eggs in the other, “I got the A/C fixed on the car too.”

“Mmm,” you hummed and walked with him out of the store. 

You crossed the parking lot and helped you load up the bags in the trunk. That car should have been yours; you’d made enough payments on it yourself but Wesley was such a stubborn ass.

You sat in the front seat as he slid into the other and started the car. He drove cautiously through the lot and you read the store signs as he came to the exit.

“How long have you and… the old man been together?”

“Um,” you glanced over at him and chewed your lip, “since college so… almost fifteen years now.”

“Fifteen?” he turned out onto the street, “really? I thought he was older than you.”

“Christ,” you scoffed, “don’t flatter me.”

“Really, I woulda said twenty-eight at most,” he said coolly, “wow, I feel so young now.”

“And I feel so old,” you grumbled as you crossed your legs, hoping he didn’t notice the wrinkle in the pink capris.

“Whatever, you’re not even forty,” he said, “and time has treated you well so I can only think in a few years… oh jeez, sorry, that came off weirder than I intended. Not that I meant for it to be weird at all--”

You giggled at his rambling as he rolled to a stop at the sign and peeked over at you in the rearview. You caught his eye and quickly looked away, “what?”

“Just… you have a nice smile,” he said as he turned down a side street, “and a nice laugh.”

“Thank you,” your voice was brittle at the genuine compliment, “you’re funny.”

“Am I? I wasn’t trying to be,” he took the same short cut you took when you walked home from the convenience store which was closer than the plaza.

“And nice,” you said as he came onto your street, “you really didn’t have to drive me. You could’ve dropped me at the corner--”

“No way, I was raised better than that, and if you think I’m letting you carry that all in by yourself--”

“Raised to help little old ladies?” you mused.

“Raised to treat ladies properly,” he corrected, “especially pretty ones.”

“I’m married,” your heart pattered as you dared to flirt back, almost in disbelief that he was humouring you, “and your lies don’t work on me, young man.”

“Not that young,” he insisted as he pulled into the driveway.

You got out and went around to the trunk. He handed you the bag with the bread and other light products, and loaded up with the other bags.

“You get the doors, let me do the heavy work,” he said and nodded you towards the house.

You went ahead of him and unlocked the door. You let him inside and pointed him into the kitchen. He placed the bags on the counter and stretched his arms and hands as you set yours on the other side. The muscles of his arms moved under his skin and you could trace the lines of his torso through his grey tee.

“So,” he took out the bottle of Perrier, “this going in the fridge?”

“What-- you’ve done enough.”

“Fridge?” he ignored you and pulled out the other.

You gave a long blink and threw up your hands in surrender, “yes, please,” you came around and reached in to grab the whole grain buns, “bottom shelf.”

You finished unpacking your groceries and took the empty bags from Peter and shoved them under the counter. You stood and looked at him nervously as he watched you, his fingers tapping on the granite.

“Do you want a snack? Something to drink? Water?”

“I’ll have a water,” he said and moved to leaned his elbow on the countertop, his side snug to the edge.

“Sparkling or--”

“Regular’s fine,” he answered

“Ice? Lemon?” you pulled out a tall glass.

“Just ice is fine… then I’ll be out of your hair,” he said.

Ice clinked into the glass and you covered it with the distilled water from the fridge. You slid it onto the counter and stepped back.

“Oh, I… actually, it’s a good thing I ran into you,” he said and took a sip, “my aunt, she likes to garden too but she got some bulbs she’s not gonna use, I thought maybe… maybe you would like some to fill in the holes?”

“What kind?” you asked.

“Some daffodils and some crocuses, I think,” he said, “I could bring them over next week after work?”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” you scrunched your lips, “you could probably just give them to a neighbour.”

“It’s not out of the way,” he said, “you want them?”

You stared at him and thought. He was nice. Too nice.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing, I… I’m sure you have a girlfriend you could be spending time with--”

“I don’t. Not anymore,” he interrupted.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, “I didn’t--”

“Like I said, I always wanna be the good guy,” he finished his water and the last of the cubes settled at the bottom, “thanks.”

“No, thank you,” you said as he set his glass in the sink and backed away, “really, you made my day so much easier.”

“I hope your weekend is better,” he said, “but…”

He didn’t finished and you folded your hands together as he hesitated by the hallway.

“But what?” you prodded.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “nothing. I should go.”

“Okay,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “see ya.”

“Monday,” he confirmed as he turned to the doorframe, “I’ll bring the bulbs. Just after seven.”

“Right,” you slanted your lips and watched him go.

The door marked his departure and you turned to exhale and lean against the counter. You could still smell his rich cologne. Then you felt guilty. It was stupid to think he was doing anything more than being nice, that the flirting was anything but a joke, but still, you missed feeling that way and it should’ve been Wesley making you feel that.

💍

You squeezed the phone as you clenched your jaw so tight it hurt. Your eyes were wet and finally the tears were ready to start falling. The smell of steak filled the kitchen, another meal you wouldn’t eat. At the last minute, Wesley texted to tell you he was hitting the gym. Again. He was already late after a long meeting but promised he’d be home to eat.

So you waited for him to answer your furious phone call but got his voicemail instead. Your eyes narrowed at the bottle of wine and your chest knotted as the tone sounded.

“Wesley, this is it. I can’t do this anymore! I’m your wife. Do you even want to be with me? I can’t go on like this and now you won’t even answer my calls,” you snarled. You knew he had his phone on him as he no doubt had his Spotify work-out list on shuffle, “when you come home, you can sleep on the couch.”

You hung up and grabbed a stemmed glass from the cupboard. You filled it to the brim with Pinot Grigio but before you could taste it, the doorbell made you jump. You set down the glass and walked up the hallway. Just on the other side of the frosted glass was a silhouette. You opened the door and touched your forehead as you faced Peter.

“I totally forgot you were coming,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry. But thank you, you really didn’t have to--”

“Are you okay?” he asked as the paper bag in his hand crinkled.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I… thank you for the flowers,” you looked at the brown paper bag and he handed it over, another bag on his wrist; white with ribbon handles, “what’s that? You headed out for a date?”

“Um, no,” he said, “actually, I was just…” he pushed his fingers through his hairs, the reddish brown locks slightly curled with sweat, “I wanted to talk to you.” He looked past you and his warm eyes returned to yours, “Wesley isn’t home yet?”

“No, he won’t be for a while,” you backed up, “so you might as well come in. I have a steak no one’s gonna eat.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t be,” Peter said glumly, “and steak sounds good.”

He closed the door behind him and followed you into the kitchen. You put the bulbs at the back of the counter and grabbed the bottle, “wine?”

“No thank you,” he said.

You plunked down the bottle and took a gulp of your wine before you turned to plate the steak and your chicken breast alongside the fried asparagus and roasted potatoes. You set the filet before him as he sat on the stool and climbed up across from him at the long island.

“Thank you,” he watched you slide a steak knife and fork towards him and his gaze lingered on your lips as you took another thirsty mouthful, “this is for you, actually.”

He pushed the white bag over to you and you smelled the subtle floral scent rising from it. You put your glass down and pushed open the top of the bag and peeked inside. You shook your head and rescinded your hand as if you were slapped. It was the same perfume from that day weeks ago.

“You… how?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

You thought back on the day you wanted to forget. He was the other shopper in the perfume section, the one who sent you that sympathetic look as Wesley reproached you. You winced and grabbed your utensils. You cut into the chicken and shoved it in your mouth. You swallowed loudly.

“Take it back,” you sniffed, “I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it.”

“You do. He doesn’t deserve you,” he carefully sliced into the medium rare steak.

“Is that what this is? Some perverted joke? A challenge?” you dropped your fork and knife, “you think you can seduce the sad housewife and then laugh at it? Sow your wild oats?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” he calmly put down the silverware, “I… what I didn’t say when I showed up is I just came from the gym.”

You frowned in confusion and wrinkled your nose. You took another drink of wine as you tried to understand.

“I saw Wesley,” he said as he leaned on his elbow and pulled out his phone with his other hand, “I didn’t wanna say anything but… you’re here beating yourself up over him and-- just look.”

He slid his phone across the counter and you looked at the screen. Your entire body felt heavy and your veins filled with ice. You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to wipe the sight from your eyes; the image of your husband groping a woman in yoga pants, an act she wasn’t deterring.

“I knew it,” you sobbed as the tears burst forth and leaked down your palms, “I knew it. And why wouldn’t he? I’m old, ugly--” you sniffed and pulled your hands away to wipe them on your pants. Peter held out a paper towel and you took it as you avoided his eyes, “thank you but I think you should go. I’m humiliated enough.”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said as he climbed down from the stool and rounded the island, “he’s an asshole. He’s blind.”

“Please, Peter, just leave me alone,” you slid off the stool and he caught your shoulders. You looked up at him as you dabbed away the streaks of sadness with the paper towel, “Peter--”

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly, “he’s out there having his fun, so why don’t you have some of your own?”

“Peter, that’s-- that’s wrong. I’m too old for you. And… I’m fat and--”

“You’re perfect,” he reached up to frame your chin with his hand, “you’re gorgeous,” his other hand trailed down your arm and to your hip, “that’s the first thing I noticed about you…” he pulled you closer and tapped your ass lightly.

“No, I can’t-- I just want to be alone,” you pushed on his arms and felt the thick biceps as he flexed and kept you close.

“Well, baby, what I want,” he turned you so that you were pinned between him and the island, “is for you to put on that perfume… I want you wearing nothing but that.”

“Peter,” you pushed on his chest that time and the hard muscle wall didn’t budge, “Peter, go--”

“Baby,” he bent and scooped you up suddenly. 

His hands spread over your ass as he lifted you and crushed his lips against yours. You murmured in surprise and he placed you on the granite countertop. He parted from your lips as you sat up and he shoved your legs apart, inserting himself between your knees. He played with the bottom of the dress you’d worn in hopes of rekindling your dying marriage.

“We can go slow,” he tickled along your thighs and pulled back suddenly, “just a little at a time.” 

He leaned in as he reached around you and grabbed the small white bag. He pulled out the perfume and snaked his hand around your neck. He pulled you to bend over him and he kissed your neck just before he sprayed a puff of perfume across your throat. He stood back and took a deep breath. He put the bottle on the counter and his hands went back to your skirt.

“Peter,” you caught his hands as they crept under the fabric, “please.”

You tried to slide forward and he stopped you as he grasped your hips and held you in place. He bit his lip as his eyes glimmered up at you. He drew a hand away and took the glass of wine and held it before your mouth.

“Drink, relax,” he cooed, “forget about him.”

You stared at him and he brought your hand up with his and wrapped it around the full body of the glass. He nudged it to your lips and watched you until you drank from the crystal rim. He smirked and lifted your skirt as he bent to bury his head beneath the folds.

You gulped and choked on the wine as your skirt fluttered down over his shoulders. You felt his finger on the lace trim of your panties and winced. He squeezed your thighs with his other hand and nuzzled the crotch of your underwear. You tried to close your legs but he kept them apart easily.

He curled his fingers under the elastic of your panties and tugged. He pulled until you lifted your ass just enough for him to get them free and he guided them down your legs before quickly parting them again.

You set down the glass and almost overturned it, the last mouthful splashing up the side. You pressed your hands to the granite and peered down at the shape of his head beneath your skirt. You gasped as his cool tongue grazed your warm folds and delved deeper.

“Peter…” you wisped and closed your eyes as you tried to hide from your own shame.

He purred as his tongue flicked over your clit and you twitched. He caressed the crease of your thigh with his fingers as he lapped at your, his other hand pressed against your stomach until you fell back across the counter. You arched your back instinctively and his hand cupped your tit through your dress.

He blindly pulled until your chest slipped out and pushed the cup of your bra as he teased your clit with his tongue. He felt along your cunt with his fingers and shoved his index inside of you. You moaned as he pushed another inside and curled them as he suckled on your bud.

Your core burned to life. Your entire being was set alight after months without affection. You quivered in delight and fear. Your nerves stormed both out of guilt and hunger. It felt so good but you knew it was wrong. The scent of the perfume filled your nose as your skin grew hot.

He moved his hand in time with his mouth as he doted on you. His touch intensified as your legs bent around the side of the island and your fingernails dragged along the granite, your voice rising without thought. He pinched your nipple and you cried out as you came in a wave of sheer pleasure and grabbed his wrist as you tried to steady yourself.

He eased off slowly as you trembled in the afterglow, his lingering touch tickled along your legs as he pushed your dress up. He pulled you to sit up and lifted the fabric over your head and ripped your sleeves free from your arms. He tossed as side the garment and swiftly covered your mouth with his so you tasted your own arousal on his tongue.

He unhooked your bra blindly and slid it off your arms. You were intensely aware of your nakedness and as you brought your arms up to cover yourself, he forced them down and ran his hands over your bare torso. 

“Beautiful,” he said as he laid a trail of gentle pecks along your throat and chest, pausing to take a nipple in his mouth as he rolled the other between his fingers and sent a shiver through you.

He kneaded your sides and hips, his fingers danced along your thighs and he followed the path with his mouth, kissing and nipping your flesh. He lifted his head again as he took your hands and twined his fingers through yours. He tugged you gently until you slid off the counter and landed on your feet shakily.

“Baby, you’re so amazing,” he placed your hands on his chest and pushed them down his muscled torso and brought them back up beneath his tee shirt, “go on.”

He let you go and you continued to roll up his tee. He dipped his head and raised his arms to help you and you clung to the tee as it fell limp in your grasp. Dazed, he snatched the shirt from your hands and flung it. He once more pressed your hands to his chest and guided you in feeling the lines of his toned flesh.

He pushed your hands against the top of his jeans and leaned into you. He kissed your temple and whispered along your hairline, “turn around, baby.” He squeezed your ass and purred, “mmmm, please, I wanna see that ass.”

You blinked, dazed, and spun slowly. You caught yourself on the edge of the counter as your legs trembled and you heard the subtle zip. He kicked his foot between yours and pushed your legs apart as he led you back so that you were slightly bent against the island. He ran his nails down your back and gripped your hip with one hand as his other drew away from your skin.

You flinched as you felt his smooth tip against your ass and he rubbed it between your cheeks. You inhaled and held in your breath as his hold on your tightened and he angled his dick under your ass and grazed your cunt. He poked your entrance and pressed his chest to your back as his hand covered yours on the granite.

He slid into you and your voice fizzled in the air as he forced the air from your lungs. You pushed your head back and it met his shoulder as his other hand crawled down your front. He spread your folds with his fingers and swirled another around your clit as he tilted his hips and thrust into you slowly.

“Ah, Peter,” you slapped the counter and he shushed you as his hand left yours cold and his fingers stretched over your throat.

His motion picked up as the noise of him crashing into you echoed around the kitchen. Your eyes rolled back as he rammed into you even harder. You were on tiptoes as he was driven by the weak moans that leaked from your lips and your wet pleasure squelched around him. He pressed two fingers to your bud and rubbed until you squeaked and your thighs quaked around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, “I bet you never cum like that for him.”

You whined and he sped up again. He pinned you against the counter so that the lip pressed into your stomach. He took his hand from your cunt and pushed your head down as he kept his other hand around your neck. He didn’t waver once as he fucked you.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he commanded, “I want you to cum again for me. I know you want to too.”

His thick breath warmed the air and grazed your back as he held you down and his hold on your neck tightened until silver stars rose in your vision. Your feet dangled against the tile and you reached down to play with your clit as it buzzed. It was only seconds before you were murmuring in ecstasy once more.

“Fuck, baby, can you feel that? The way your clinging to me,” he puffed as he slammed into you over and over, “he can hardly fill you, can he? Hmmm? Little man.”

You wheezed as he choked you and his other hand kept your head pinned. You heard a distant creak but could barely do more than keep your fingers moving as your heartbeat deafened you. You came again and croaked as your cunt squeezed him hungrily.

“What the fuck?” the voice broke your lusty trance and suddenly you were pulled away from the counter.

Your head lulled as Peter held it up and turned you around, his pelvis slapping against your ass as you faced your husband. Your mouth hung open as your blurred vision barely registered the scene and the deep grunts only got louder behind you.

“Look who’s here,” Peter rasped as he snaked his arm around you.

“The fuck are you doing?” Wesley sneered as your eyes closed and your ass rang with each thrust.

“What you can’t,” Peter snickered, “doesn’t she look so happy?” He grasped your chin and pushed his fingers into your mouth as he held your head up, “well, you into watching or you gonna let us finish, old man?”

[absynthe--minded]

gondolin week headcanons 2/?: the Twelve Houses and their focuses

House of the King: speaks for itself, tbh. governmental and bureaucratic business, tax collection and accounting, public holidays and feasts, the nuts and bolts of running a city. you come here if you really have a fire under your ass for public service, or if you think that the world ought to function like one big game of Tetris where everything fits together on the fly.

House of the Wing: the smallest and least interesting of the twelve Houses, composed of Lord Tuor’s retinue and staff. it didn’t exist long enough to develop an identity of its own, sadly.

House of the Mole: mining, crafting with novel or new processes and metals, metallurgy and geology. unusual, compared to the other Houses. most of the folk of the city who enter into sworn service are friendly, and like being social, and like other people, and facilitate good relationships with other members of other Houses. these people do not. you go into the House of the Mole and you basically never come out. nobody really knows what it is about this tight-knit group of miners and craftsmen, as there are other miners and other craftsmen in Gondolin who think the Mole-folk are strange for being so antisocial. But Maeglin is charismatic as hell, and they’re all devoted to him

House of the Tree: botany and agriculture. they oversee most of Gondolin’s food production on an administrative level, and they selectively breed crops. Aldaron (“Galdor”) would be characterized as a health nut if he lived today - his diet is 95% plants, and he makes fruit juice daily, and he has a beloved sprout garden that he treats like it’s full of kittens.

House of the Tower of Snow: swordplay as a martial art. Snow is led by Pendelot (“Penlod”), who took it over after the untimely death of his husband Nikalantë, and in honor of said husband’s passions, he set up the House of the Tower of Snow as one of a few more martial Houses. they’re very serious about the philosophy of a warrior’s life, as opposed to just being jocks, and as a result they’re the second-smallest of all the Houses, since they tend to be something of an insular group devoted to the memory of their fallen Lord.

House of the Pillar: academic scholarship of all sorts, theoretical mathematics, history, research, library science, and a scriptorium. Pendelot is not a warrior, and this was his haven. The main House itself was a massive library with dormitories and residences contained within its walls, and they were also responsible for paper and parchment production.

House of the Heavenly Arch: engineering and architecture, city planning. They were one of three Houses focusing on city maintenance and upkeep, and they tended more towards design and applied physics/mathematics in architecture and blueprints. They would decide how something ought to look, and put together proposals and mock-ups, and pass it on for actual construction.

House of the Swallow: another martial house, this time focusing on archery. Tuilindo (“Duilin”) is an expert shot, and he enjoys sparring and competing and essentially being a jock. His folk were the majority of the city guards, though each House had its own force of watchmen, and the King had an honor guard with Aldaron as its captain and the King’s Champion.

House of the Fountain: construction, city upkeep, aqueducts and waterways. Aegthel (“Ecthelion”, “Aicatillë”) did a lot of stonework himself, though he also delegated when it suited him. They get the plans and blueprints that the Heavenly Arch designs, and put them into action by working with the House of the Hammer of Wrath. Aegthel built the fountain that he drowned in personally, and enchanted it with a lot of Song to purge out evil.

House of the Golden Flower: plants, and ornamental gardens, with a focus on aesthetics. The House of the Tree grows things that feed people, the House of the Golden Flower grows things that look pretty. Laurëfindil (“Glorfindel”) is not a soldier at heart, despite his fondness for sparring and his prowess in battle, and he enjoys having a discipline that takes time and effort but exists away from war.

House of the Hammer of Wrath: forgecraft, ironworks, foundry, city planning and construction. Rôg enjoys hard work, and his people do too. He serves as the head of a House that’s a safe haven for all who were touched by Angamando, and the folk of his House are hardy and determined in battle, but their passion is in building things. They’re guaranteed to be a good time at parties.

House of the Harp: woodworking and carving, instrument making, livestock and horses. Salakanto (“Salgant”) is a kindhearted fellow, who gets attached to everything on a deep emotional level and makes friends easily, and his folk aren’t different. Because of this, they breed cattle and hogs and sheep and goats and rabbits and poultry for animal agriculture, and their livestock live well.

[duskholland]

The Fame Game (Epilogue) - Tom Holland

Summary ↠ Three years later, you and Tom are back at the Oscars.

Word count ↠ 3.3k

Warnings ↠ Alcohol mention, slightly suggestive but not really, lots and lots of fluff.

A/N ↠ I can’t believe we’re here! The epilogue! Thank you so much to everyone that’s supported me and the fic over the last three months :’) If you know me, you’ll know I really struggle committing to series, so the fact I made it here, without missing any updates, is something I’m very proud of tbh. I hope that you’ve liked the story :) The biggest thank you ever has to go to V, mischiefandi, for helping me so much in the early stages of this story... Thank you again for always listening to me <3 Additionally, a huge huge thank you to everyone that’s read, commented and sent in asks! I hope the epilogue doesn’t disappoint :)

POST-CREDITS SCENE: The Oscars: Take Two (Y)

The atmosphere at Vanity Fair’s Oscars after-party is electric.

The soft boom of the latest pop tunes seeps into the air, mixing with the warm lights and the sounds of clinking champagne flutes. The room holds Hollywood’s best, and it seems no matter which direction you tilt your head, your eyes find themselves settling over a familiar face. You’re walking amongst legends tonight, and with your hands grasped around two glistening trophies, you finally feel at home.

“Congratulations, Y/N. I’m so proud of you.”

You’re drawn away from your thoughts by the unmistakable voice of your friend Joe Keery. As you finally drag your eyes away from the golden Oscars in your hands, a smile splits across your face.

“Thanks, Joe,” you say, flashing him a blinding smile. “I still can’t believe it.”

Joe chuckles, eyeing your awards with pride in his eyes. “Two, eh?” He leans closer to elbow you, chuckling when you glare at him. “Not too shabby for your first year nominated.”

“Not too shabby at all.”

It’d been crazy - every single second of it. From the moment the nominations were announced, and you’d seen your name listed not only in one category but in two, you’ve been a whirlwind of nerves, excitement, and pride. You don’t think you’ve ever been as shocked as you’d felt when your name had been called out as the winner, not once, but twice tonight. Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress, the latter of which was won for a performance in the same film which had brought about the evening’s Best Actor…

“And Tom?” Joe says, grinning. “Oscar-Winning couple, starring in a critically-acclaimed film together. Must feel pretty good, right?”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you look down at your golden trophies. “I can’t believe it,” you mutter. “I really just… Can’t believe it.”

You feel a presence behind you, and then there’s the warm touch of a hand curling around your waist. You sink into it, tilting your head to the side, letting your eyes fall on Tom, your boyfriend. With a proud smile on his lips and his own golden award held in his free hand, he’s almost glowing tonight.

“Evening, Joe,” Tom greets. Finally comfortable at your side, he leans up and presses a quick kiss to your cheek. His deep cologne sweeps across you, and you bask in the familiar tones. “Good night?”

Joe nods. “Oh yeah,” he agrees, inclining his head towards Tom’s trophy. “Congrats, man.”

“Thank you.” Tom holds his award nearer his face, a deep frown line forming between his eyes. “I always thought it would be heavier?” He muses, running his thumb over the head of it. “But it’s pretty light. Look.”

What your boyfriend does next makes your blood turn cold. He easily and haphazardly throws his Oscar at Joe, who somehow startles in time to catch it, but not before letting out a stream of expletives.

“Tom!” You exclaim, eyes widening. “Don’t throw your Oscar around!”

He grins wickedly, brown eyes dancing. “Sorry, darling,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek again. “Got a bit giddy.”

Tom’s been walking on air recently, you’ve noticed. You’d put it down to the buzz of nerves that’d characterised your last few days too, but even now, Tom’s vibrating with something. He’s been very affectionate with you, and whilst Tom is by no means a selfish lover, you can’t recall a time where he’s been glued to your hip quite as much as he’s been this last week. Always hanging around with open arms or warm lips or soft words, Tom has made it known, every second of every day, just how much he loves you. Which is a lot, apparently.

And you love him too, of course. You love him like you’ve never loved anyone else.

“You’re always giddy,” you tease. You manage to hold both of your trophies in one hand and use the other to reach up and tidy some of the hair from his face. Tom’s hair is longer now - less wavy and longer, grown a little older as the both of you have over the past three years. Looking at him now, you see a man - a very handsome, very loving man - and you’re proud of who he’s grown into.

“Only around you, love.”

Your lips roll into a soft smile, and you lean in to kiss him quickly. Tom’s mouth is warm against yours.

“Ew.” Joe’s voice interrupts your moment, and you pull away sheepishly. “Take your trophy and get out of here, you two.”

Tom reaches out and takes back his Oscar, giving Joe a fist bump. “Thanks, man. Have a good night.” There’s a moment where Joe and Tom look at one another, and Joe’s gaze flutters over to you, and you feel something there, between them - an unspoken secret. But before you can comment on it, Tom’s reaching out for your open hand and slipping his into it, and you’re moving off through the crowd again.

“I’m so tired,” you admit, stifling a yawn. You quickly smooth a smile over your face, noting with appreciation how the crowd of the afterparty seem to move out of your way. Your Oscars bring you a sort of power, and with three between you, it would seem that you and Tom are trading in top tier currency. “Can’t wait to get home and sleep.”

“Sleep?!” Tom exclaims, voice low. He squeezes your hand, glancing back to smirk at you. “As if.”

You raise your eyebrows as Tom guides you out the entrance of the party.

“What, you don’t think we’ll be sleeping later?” You ask, resting your cheek on Tom’s shoulder as you walk down the steps of the building together.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why’s that?”

Tom looks at you, eyes briefly flicking out over your figure. “You know why, darling.” He squeezes your hand before stepping nearer to kiss you. Your lips stay together a little longer, and you hum against his mouth. “You look bloody stunning in that dress, lovie,” he murmurs. His teeth brush your lower lip, and you feel your face warm. “Been thinking about ravishing you all night.”

You swallow, tilting your head to the side before kissing him again, briefly. “We’ll see,” you reply. You wink as you step back, turning around and looking out at the lines of cars before you make eye contact with your driver. “C’mon, winner. I don’t trust the house to still be standing. I still can’t believe you let Harrison and your brothers housesit tonight.”

Tom’s indignant as he follows you into the car, and for the drive back to your house in the Hills, you carry on your bickering. It’s interrupted by kisses and jokes and touches, though, and it’s all so familiar it makes your heart soar. He’s always kept you on your feet, and out of all the things that have changed since you got together, that fact has remained: no one makes you feel as intensely riled up as Tom.

“I still don’t understand why you wanted them to housesit,” you muse. The gravel of the driveway crunches beneath your feet as you walk up towards your house, wobbling a little in your heels. Tom offers you an arm, and you gratefully loop yours through it, your hands still holding your awards. You’d only brought a bag big enough to hold one Oscar, not two. “It’s not like anyone was going to break in. We have security.”

Tom just clears his throat, the sound deep and guilty. “Harrison’s idea,” he says, quickly. “They wanted to be nearer the action.”

“Yeah, or they wanted to use the wine cellar.”

Before you can continue your conversation, the front door opens and Harrison pokes his head out, eyes widening as he looks down at the trophies in your hands.

“Aye!” He calls out, clapping loudly. “Congratulations, you two.”

As you enter the house and ditch your coat and shoes by the door, there’s an interlude in which you pass around your awards and receiving raucous applause from your friends. Harry and Sam pose dramatically in front of the staircase, fighting over which one of them gets to carry two of the awards, and you hold up a phone, taking photos of it all. In the corner of the room, you see Harrison pulling Tom aside and whispering something into his ear. Before you can pay them much attention, you’re distracted by Harry deciding to try and balance Tom’s Oscar on his head.

It’s very wholesome, and you and Tom end up coerced into another series of photos together. It’s less formal than it was at the show, and Tom sheds his suit-jacket as you enjoy posing without the strain on your feet from your heels. Harrison barges in too, and then there’s a round of shots with all five of you together, laughing, talking, messing around.

On their way out, both Harry and Sam pull you in for hugs, and then Harrison takes your hands and looks at you, hard. There’s a seriousness to him that you’ve never seen before, and tears form in his eyes as he splutters out a quiet,

“I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

“Harrison,” you whine, feeling a lump in your throat. “Don’t make me cry again.”

“Sorry.” Your friend drops one of your hands and rubs at his eyes, laughing softly. “I’m just proud of you - both of you. You deserve this so much and I’m glad to call you my friend.”

You sniff loudly, cursing softly when you feel a stray tear fall down your cheek. “Thanks, Haz,” you mutter, pulling him in for a hug.

You leave Harrison with Tom as your guests leave, and walk into the living room to collapse on the sofa. You groan as you let yourself relax, sinking into the cushions. Something of an adrenaline high crashes over you, and suddenly the thought of crawling into bed and sleeping the night away sounds very tempting.

“Y/N,” Tom says, startling you. You open your eyes and find your boyfriend standing in front of you, smiling softly. He rocks back on his feet, briefly biting at his lower lip. “Come with me.”

You look at his inviting hand sceptically.

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

You hum, reaching up and taking his hand in yours. You glance at your wrist, noticing with fondness in your eyes how nice his watch looks wrapped around your hand. Over the years, you’ve made a habit of always trying to keep something of his to hand - his watch, his hat, his sunglasses. It doesn’t matter the occasion - you always like to carry something with you that reminds you of Tom. It works vice-versa, and you know that beneath Tom’s dress shirt hangs one of your favourite necklaces.

Your friends think it’s sickeningly romantic. You think it’s cute. Tom loves it.

“What do you mean, a surprise?” You ask, following Tom through the house. He’d moved into your LA home two years ago, his mark evident in the fluffy throws and the various stains on the walls.

Tom shrugs, rolling his thumb over the back of your hand. He leads you upstairs. “A surprise,” he repeats. “Stop asking so many questions, darling.”

You rest your head on Tom’s shoulder, sighing happily. “You’re very romantic, you know that?”

Tom chuckles, pausing outside your closed bedroom door. He looks nervous, and he drops your hand to run his hand through his hair.

“Right.” He stops, clearing his throat, hand shifting to the doorknob. “In here.”

You wait a moment for him to do something, but he doesn’t. “Are you going to open the door?” You ask, teasing, but reaching up to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” Tom shakes his head, a bright smile finally finding his lips. “Crazy night.”

“Definitely.”

Tom turns around and finally opens the door, stepping aside and inviting you inside. A soft gasp falls past your lips as you walk into the bedroom and take in the scenes around you.

Someone’s been in your room since you were flurrying around eight hours earlier, tearing your wardrobe apart before the show. It’s been cleaned, the bed made and spread out with a few rose petals, and the lights are dimmed down low. The doors to the balcony are open, and through them, you can make out a large stand with a bottle of champagne.

“Tom!” You gasp. You turn around, jaw slackening further as your boyfriend procures a large bouquet of roses. The plastic crinkles as you accept them gratefully, taking a long breath and inhaling the deep romantic scent.

“Thought I’d do something nice for you,” he says, closing the door behind him. Tom smooths his hands over your waist, standing behind you and kissing up your neck as you laugh softly. “Come out to the balcony, love,” he murmurs, teeth brushing your ear.

“Was this why you had the others come over?” You ask, smiling.

“Mhmm.”

You pause to put the roses in a vase, and then let Tom wind his hand in yours and pull you out onto the balcony. It’s beautiful out here in the Hollywood Hills, and as he pours out two glasses of champagne and passes you a flute, you lean with your elbows on the railing and stare out across at the city. Shrouded in darkness, the city pulses with bright lights and distance car horns. There’s a warmth to the air that brings a smile to your lips, and a few strands of your hair drift around as the evening breeze caresses your face.

“Funny, isn’t it?” You say, closing your eyes. Tom’s just beside you, one of his hands resting over yours. He plays with your fingers before linking your pinkies together.

“Hm?”

“Do you remember the first time you were out here with me?” Tom releases a short hum, and you take that to mean the negative. “Well, it was back when I hated you. You came and you picked me up from set, and then you stayed the night. We came out here and we took photographs together.”

“Of course.” There’s mirth in his voice, and the sound of his familiar accent brings a smile to your face. You lean your head on his shoulder, looking back out across the city. “That was the first time we ever talked properly, too. I remember realising you weren’t that horrible, after all.”

You gasp. “Oi!”

Tom nudges your side. “Hey, you know you felt the same way about me too.” He turns slightly, and you feel the soft press of his lips against your temple. “We’ve come a long way since then.”

You hum, grinning. “A very long way.”

There’s a moment’s rest, then Tom kisses your forehead again and steps away from you. You whine at the loss, but continue to look out at the city, resting your chin in your palms. You’re aware of him walking over to the table with the champagne, but you’re too distracted by the distant flickering lights to pay much attention to him.

“I love you a lot, you know,” Tom calls out, voice wavering. He clears his throat, and you smile to yourself.

“I know,” you reply. “I love you too.”

“No, I love you, a lot.” Again, Tom clears his throat. You decide to turn around, your eyebrows furrowing as you realise you can’t see him, but then your eyes travel down, down, down, and you spot him.

Tom is down on one knee, brown hair wafting in the gentle evening breeze, holding a black velvet box in his hands.

“Tom?” You whisper, voice hoarse. Tears pool in your eyes and your heart drums in your chest as you realise what’s happening.

“Y/N,” he returns, a soft smile finding his lips when he meets your eyes. “I love you.” Tom glances down at the ring, chuckling. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, but picking the right time has been so hard. So, I thought, hey, we’ve already won big tonight, why not add onto the excitement.”

You fan at your face, exhaling a deep breath.

“We have been through thick and thin together, and I am so, so glad that we came out the other side stronger for it. Your ambition and your drive make me want to be a better person, and every time I wake up beside you, it makes me want to be a better man, too. You make me better, and I love you for it.” Tom breaks off, eyes sparkling with tears as he looks up at you, meeting your gaze firmly. “I have never been more sure of anything else before. I know there’s nothing else I’d want to do than to spend the rest of my life with you. So… Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

You can barely still see him, through the tears in your eyes, but you nod. You nod, and then you fall down to your knees in front of him, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Tom,” you get out, voice thick with emotion. “I love you more than anything.”

Tom puts the box aside and pulls you closer, and you share a kiss that rocks your world. Both of you are smiling, and it’s clumsy and salty, but you don’t care as you kiss him again and again, your hands winding into his hair. He is so perfect, absolutely perfect, and you have never felt this whole before.

“I love you so, so, so much, darling,” he says, speaking against your lips. You chuckle, humming your agreeing sentiments before kissing him again.

“I love you too.” You finally pull back, shifting your lips to brush against his nose before you glance down at the box. You grin, holding up your left hand as you wiggle your eyebrows.

“If you don’t like it, we can always get a different one,” Tom prefaces, his hands shaking as it takes him a few attempts to pull the ring from the velvet bed. His fingers are warm against yours, soft and gentle as he slides the band up your finger. Your eyes catch on the beautiful sparkling diamond, and you feel a tear roll down your cheek. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s perfect,” you say, rolling your thumb over the ring. You look up at Tom, wide-eyed and warm-hearted. “I think you’re perfect.”

“Not as perfect as you.”

You roll your eyes, your cheeks aching from the width of your smile. “You’re so cliché, Tom,” you tease, moving back to kiss his cheek. Your hands go to his shoulders, engagement ring glinting. “Are you going to be like this forever?”

Tom smiles, adoration floating in his bright brown eyes. “If you want me to be, yes.”

His lips find yours for one final time, and you bask in the feeling of him so close to you. After so long together, it feels like your souls have finally intertwined. Tom’s buried himself so deeply into your heart, into your life, that you know you’ll never get him out. You know you’d never want to.

“I love you,” you whisper. “Thank you for changing my life.”

His palm travels up to cup your cheek, warm fingertips stroking over your cheekbone. “It’s been my pleasure.”

FINIS.

extended a/n: 

thank you for reading the series, dear reader--the full thing is 59k! go you for getting through that much of my writing! I appreciate your time and willingness to enter this ‘verse with me <3

if you’ve got any thoughts on the series, please let me know! doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the series ended, I am always always always here to talk about these two :’)) would love to know what you think of their story!

we had a tfg blurb night! if you want to read any little extra bits, check out the masterpost for that here :)

[apixrl]

SINCERELY, YOURS.

hanta sero x fem!reader

WARNING(S): none

word count: 3.0k

song: sincerely, yours // nohidea

note(s): i just think that he'd be the perfect hubby tbh (EDIT: I'M SO DUMB I POSTED W/O TAGS PFAHAHHA)

Hanta finally managed to force open the door to the log cabin that had long been awaiting your arrival, the wooden structure welcoming the approaching warmth and laughter of the newly wedded couple. The ravenette smirked joyously and let out a triumphant 'hoorah', your laughter only adding to the display of ego on his face.

"And you said I'd drop you," Hanta mocked your earlier words, looking down at you with that very same smirk. If not for your arms wrapped around his neck and entire weight held in his arms, you most likely would have pushed his face away by the cheek. To avoid that shit-eating, joking smirk that rarely left his dumb and lovable face. The face you fell for so undoubtedly swift and heavy.

"I didn't say you would I said you may drop me," Was your response. "It's not every day we walk through so much snow!"

"Hush now, that was nothing to me," Hanta lifted the arm that supported your back, planting his lips on your forehead in a sweet welcoming kiss. Your lips curled in approval, accepting the gesture as Hanta used his foot to close the door behind you both, driving away the cold breeze from outside as warmth replaced it. "Now would you look at this place!"

Heeding Hanta's words, your eyes averted from his addicting gaze to the bonnie log cabin interior set out before you two. From left to right the cabin maintained an earthy theme, consistent in wooden textures excluding that of the supple beige sofas in the centre of the room. They were accompanied with ripening red cushions, as well as a few other pieces of furniture containing the same colour to maintain an advertising aesthetic no doubt. Lengthy beams stretched from one end of the walls to the other, set out in rows. The deepest wall (opposite to the entrance) was made mostly out of glass and onlooking a gorgeous snowy forest scene, small golden lights lit up outside to only add to the aura already presented. Built-up by red bricks and extending up toward the ceiling was a great open fireplace, already sparked alight and sensing a contrasting warmth to the bitter cold outdoors. In the corner of the room were a set of stairs most likely directing themselves off to the bedroom, though you and Hanta were so taken by the bottom floor's interior neither of you even processed there were more rooms to see.

"Wow... this place is gorgeous!" You said through a whisper, face lighting up at the sight. Never had you thought a place could be so beautifully arranged and so beautiful in general, and the two of you had this place to yourselves for an entire two weeks... it made you feel like the luckiest person alive! That you were really, as you'd just tied the knot the love of your life and were starting an entirely new journey with him. From the very moment you'd both uttered 'I do' in front of all your friends and family - the paths you lead became one that you would waltz down together.

"So you like it then?" Hanta asked, ebony eyes trailing away from the open fire and down to your own E/C irises. His smirk slowly transitioned to an endearing grin upon seeing your face of wonder, heart skipping a beat as your gaze met his and your expression mirrored.

"Of course! It's just how I imagined it - even more stunning than the pictures online," Your hand grazed Hanta's gloved one, though the barricade of wool and cotton did nothing to prevent the love and desire sent through the tips of your fingers. The ravenette admired your beauty in that lingering stare shared between you, exhaling a content sigh. You never failed to astound him with your beauty, the way your eyes glowed whenever you looked at him. How your hair fell perfectly into place no matter the circumstance (even on your worst of hair days you somehow managed to make it work). Not to mention your smile and laugh - those specific factors alone making Hanta fall for you over and over and exceeding limits of love and admiration he didn't even think he possessed.

Just before Hanta was to fall into daydream you shook him out his thoughts, the shifting of weight in his arms struck him to shake out of it, realising that you were attempting to shuffle out his arms in order to stand. So he let you down, grip loosening and reluctantly allowing you to step away.

"I'm glad," He quickly uttered, his hand lifting to his head to remove the woolly hat resting there. Then he proceeded to unbutton his winter coat as did you, the pair of you making light work of it due to the excitement of exploring your temporary home.

"So our suitcases are already here?" You asked Hanta, straightening out your knitted turtleneck jumper which was a soft pink shade. Usually something you wouldn't wear, but it was well-suited for the weather and didn't irritate your skin. So you took advantage of the purchase. From your left Hanta hummed softly, turning towards you once he was done hanging his coat on the rack. He too had a turtleneck on, but his donned a collect of abstract patterns and stuck to more neutral colours than yours.

"Yep, they should be upstairs," Hanta replied, running a hand through his hair as he looked over at you. He shifted over to your side, hugging you from behind with a mischievous chuckle. "But we can unpack tomorrow,"

"I like the idea of that, I just wanna snuggle," You responded with a giggle, leaning back into your husband's hold. After a few seconds Hanta stepped forwards, forcing your feet to follow suit. The ravenette guided you both to the nearest sofa, where he messily fell back against the ruby red cushions and you alongside him.

"That's because you procrastinate more than you've ever been willing to admit," Hanta turned you over so you sat atop his middle, hands settled on your hips like they were structured to hold them. There was a smirk on his face as you rolled your eyes at his last comment.

"I procrastinate because you distract me," You corrected, poking his chest with a prominent finger.

"Ah well, what can I say? I'm just that pretty aren't I?" He replied, laughing joyously. You couldn't help but echo with your own form of a chuckle, shaking your head as the smile on your face sent Hanta all kinds of elated emotions through his veins.

"You're not wrong there, Tiger," You grinned ear to ear, staring lovingly in his direction. Words weren't enough to express how much you loved him, your mind struggling to form sentences most of the time with just how much he took your breath away. In truth, you would have allowed yourself to remain gazing into Hanta's eyes the entire night. But you were due to catch sight of an envelope on the coffee table next to you both, drawing your attention away from him as fast as it came. The item too out of the ordinary to ignore. Peculiarly you leaned over to grab it, tilting your head at the item.

"What's that?"

"I don't know," Was your answer. Your fingers proceeded to slit open the top, discovering a smaller, folded piece of paper inside. Curiously you opened it up, voice filling the room as you discovered golden ink was printed on one side and intended to read it out.

" Dear Mr and Mrs Sero,

We are beyond pleased that you chose to stay with us for your honeymoon. Have a wonderful and splendid time at the start of your journey together and we wish you nothing but happiness and joy during your stay.

Kindest regards,

[resort/name] "

"Mr and Mrs Sero," Hanta repeated with a thoughtful stare to the wooden beams above. "I'm still not used to hearing that and we've already been married a week," A smile formed on his lips, releasing a chuckle from the depths of his chest. Almost like he couldn't believe the words he had just uttered. Tilting your head, you pondered on what he meant.

"How do you mean?" You didn't receive an answer straight away, the man you called your husband gently sighed, almost with the case of the lovesick. Somewhere during the exhale Hanta's eyes fell from the beamed ceiling and onto you, gratitude threaded in his expression as he stared at you.

"I just don't know how I got so lucky to marry someone like you," His hand extended to cup your cheek, cradling the slightly chilled part of your face (thanks to the cold air and wind from outside) as his thumb stroked the surface of your skin. Your eyes widened, all too used to the gesture but rarely ever prepared for it whenever Hanta committed to it. You smiled, nuzzling into his warm hold as your eyes closed.

"Me too," You hummed, sighing out yourself as your heart fluttered higher and higher with each passing second. A short silence ensued, ending as you abruptly let out a little laugh. It caught Hanta's attention, his head cosying into the cushion behind him as his brows raised.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about the night you proposed. That's all," Another laugh escaped, humour striking you as you recalled how it had played out. From the manner your lover rolled his eyes, he clearly still hadn't emotionally recovered from it.

"That stupid fire pit," He groaned, eyes closing in annoyance. "I can't believe I let it ruin the moment,"

"I don't think that was the fire's intention, Hants,"

Despite being blatantly confident and bold, when it came to more... intimacy-related things, Hanta Sero's expertise dwindled dangerously. It had taken him months of knowing you to actually ask you out on a date, and when you finally got together? Well, it took him four years before he began to think about popping the question - three months more to actually pop it. Whilst you did say yes once he got down on one knee on the balcony of your holiday home for your fourth anniversary together, the events that proceeded after were what truly traumatised the poor ravenette.

Your holiday was spent somewhere in the Caribbean at a beachside residence that locals rented out for tourists. You and Hanta had always been big on travelling, hence your honeymoon location being such an unconventional place. Or as far as you knew, you didn't have an exact number on how many honeymoons were spent in remote mountain ranges surrounded by blustering winds and snow. It was a nice change of pace to the intense heats nearer the Equator.

During that vacation in particular though, that was the year Hanta finally decided to propose. After a long day on the beach, swimming in the ocean and feeling the sand between your toes as evening approached, you watched the sunset on the balcony of the second floor, neighbouring your bedroom. To set the mood the firepit in the centre had been lit, creating a stunning orange glow in Hanta's eyes as he held you close to his chest.

You noticed he was quite fidgety in his seat, wondering what was wrong with your lover as he gripped his knee tight. Like he was uncomfortable or nervous. Like he needed to get something off of his chest. It was only when you pointed out your concern and his odd behaviour that Hanta managed to shift his stance. Moving from his stiff position to wobbling on one knee, then came the heartfelt speech that gave you a sense of where he was going. A subtle reach into his pocket and before you knew it, you were shouting yes into the night sky and your eyes foggy with tears of complete and utter joy.

Hanta placed the ring on your finger, the realisation hitting him at that moment that you and he were engaged. His excitement got the better of him, the male sweeping you in his arms and swinging you around as he babbled sweet nothings into your ear. The speed wavered his balance, his leg knocking into the table holding a bottle of wine he had ordered specifically for the occasion. Much to both of your bad luck, it all collapsed against the firepit and tipped it over - and one can only imagine what happened next. A rather chaotic ruckus erupted between you as Hanta grabbed you by the waist and flung you both out of the building via the balcony to ensure your safety. Then he 'thwipped' straight back up to the fire and frantically searched for the fire extinguisher to put it out, all whilst you sat on the sandy ground outside, frozen to how drastically the mood had changed.

Luckily the fire didn't spread too far. If not for Hanta's efficiency in dealing with it upfront, it could have spread to the bedroom and the rest of the house. It did not, however, the most damage being the balcony sofas that were scorched no thanks to their wooden frame and white cushioning.

Despite having just been engaged, there wasn't much you and Hanta could do to celebrate. So the night ended with you and he falling to slumber in the early hours of the morning, too exhausted after dealing with the owners' wrath after the slight mishap of nearly setting their building ablaze.

"At least you didn't burn the entire house down," You tried after a few seconds of quiet, earning a scoff on Hanta's part as he ran a hand through his hair.

"It felt like it when I called the owner's to tell them what happened," Hanta answered, softly frowning at the shrieking yells he heard during that call ringing their way through his mind again. Long after he'd shut them out based on the humiliation of being on the receiving end. You giggled, recalling how you were able to hear them despite the phone not being on speaker.

"I'm surprised they let us stay for the rest of the week,"

"That's because I paid the money for the damage caused within six hours of them demanding it," Hanta reminded you, dragging his hands down his face as he groaned out. Probably expelling his inner cringe at his foolishness that night. "Times like that make me relieved I'm a top ten pro, helps out with emergencies a great fucking deal,"

"Are you sure that didn't play any part in their generosity? That you're a top ten pro?"

"No way," He said and sat up to meet your height, hands looping to cradle the small of your back. He held back continuing to briefly peck you on the lips. "The bill they gave me was the complete opposite of generous,"

"How much was it again?" You asked, memory not serving you the answer. The ebony-haired male leaned forwards to kiss you again before he moved his lips up to your ear. His voice became a whisper, telling the sum in Yen which made your eyes widen in astonishment.

"Wow," Was your instinctive reply, Hanta scoffing a laugh in agreement based on your tone of surprise. It was there he nuzzled into your neck, inhaling through his nose to catch a whiff of your scent. The aroma acting as a sedative to wipe the memory from his mind permanently. All he wished to remember of that night was the way your face lit up as he asked you to take his hand in marriage. How your tears formed and how your lips uttered the words he had oh, so desperately wanted to hear after months and months of worry of being rejected.

And look at you both now; husband and wife and on your honeymoon. Holding each other as close as close can be with no doubt or hesitancy in your minds at all. Why he had worried so much was something he would never be able to figure out. As looking back, all of it felt like the easiest thing he had ever had to do.

Due to that, Hanta smiled into your neck. The change could have been missed, but you were far too attentive to not notice. The feeling of his cheeks shaping his smile made you smile as well, your arms wrapping around Hanta's neck in a desperate need to pull him closer. Your fingers ghosted the back of his neck, tickling the hairs that attached with care like no other. You rested your chin on his head, eyes closed gently in comfort. In response, Hanta hummed lowly, hands starting to rub up and down your back like he was giving you a massage.

Silence passed, the two of you simply enjoying the other's company and the intimate moment you had welded together. The proximity created a warmth that could fight any cold, the fireplace behind you both unneeded to fight the swirling snow outside. Your eyes peaked open as the faint crackle of the fire nearby caught your attention. You watched the flames dance for a second or so before you plucked up the confidence to speak.

"Just... let's not set fire to this place. Alright?" You mused, holding your breath as you waited for Hanta's response. Luckily he didn't dismiss it, actually finding the comment quite funny. He voiced a blurt of a laugh, head shaking as much as he could make it whilst it buried into the depths of your neck. Hanta's mouth opened to make his reply, quickly hushing up again to return to the peaceful silence of before, not at all ready to let it go just yet.

"Agreed,"

[felswritingfire]

I NEED TAKEMARU DAD HC, TADATOMO AND XOLOTLS WERE SO GOOD

SO, FIRST OF ALL: THANK YOU, DEAR ;0; I'M SO HAPPY YOU ENJOYED THEM-

AND SECONDLY: Y'all- this has been fucking sitting as a WIP in my google docs for so fucking long- I have so many others too. Like, Claude, Zab, Jacob- ALL THE TEACHERS ARE IN THERE- Hakuman, Durga, Babylon- uuuuuuhhh, fuuuuckiiiiin' TANGAROA. HOMBRE'S IN THERE AND TETSU AND NOMAD-

FUck- I just, there's a lot fjsdlkjlskdjs

ANYWAY! Under the cut for length because this- ah,,,, this is a big boy-

THIS DUDE HAS BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT FOR ALL HIS LIFE- HE’S SO READY TO START A FAMILY WITH YOU

You two planned this out- like, in depth have planned this out because first of all, the dude made it very clear, in the beginning of your relationship, that he was in it for the long haul and he wanted a family with you, like, a horde of children. But after he made your guys’ house and you two established yourselves first

Which, spoiler, you both did all that, so now it’s either baby making time or adoption time

You guys probably end up with a huge ass family, and I’m not joking when I say that, because five children is big. But you know what, that’s better than the 15 (especially if you have to birth that many- like, oof) he was trying to sell you on tbh

Like, shit- this man wore a suit and made a powerpoint to try and convince you why 15 was the golden number, to which you responded that you’d like to have a retirement one day. He couldn’t really fight you there

But your kiddos end up being an oldest girl and the rest boys- which he loves his girl so much, she tries her hardest to keep the boys in line

WHICH WORKS TO VARYING DEGREES TBH

She’s so soft spoken and shy and they’re all… rough and tumble little gremlins

Speaking of the babies, she’s probably older than the youngest by five years; the oldest boy is a year younger than her; the second oldest boy is two years younger than him; and from there, you had the third boy a year from the second and finally the fourth boy a year from the third- (I had to literally do math to make sure I was right on that jsl;kfdjdfslk)

ANYWAY

You’re guys’ baby girl??? Absolute angel, but she had a lot of anxiety as a baby so she had to be held by one of you guys or she would whimper and cry- not even a loud cry, but a heart broken one??? It just- UGH-

The first time Takemaru heard her whimper, he just about sobbed with her- it really didn’t help that she was trying to get out of the blanket she was swaddled in, so she was rocking back and forth on her back, so he could see her little fingers push and pull at the fabric- he forgot all about the bottle he was trying to make for her and picked her up and held her so close in his hands-

He was wide-eyed and terrified he was going to break her as he just held her, but he didn’t and her sniffles died down and she sighed against his neck (he really cried there- but you never heard that shhh)

Kurogane became the favorite uncle when he gave you guys a personalized baby carrier for a little get together to celebrate her birth (they have one for all of the babies too!)

You and Kuro just about jumped when Take wrapped his arms around the man in near tears

But then the title was revoked and presented to Heph instead because the man hand sewed this little stuffed pegasus, his fingers all bandaged and he had this nervous smile on his face as he handed it to your little girl, who LAUGHED AND MADE GRABBY HANDS FOR IT???? When I say that you’ve never seen Takemaru shove a man away and bring another one into a hug so fast (Heph looked fucking constipated as soon as the impact happened- you almost cackled at the pure offence on his face)- you mean it

Kurogane was sprawled on the floor staring blankly at the ceiling until you went up and asked him if he was alright; his reply was raising his fist and declaring “This is war!”

And thus, the story of how your baby girl ended up with a horde of plushies, that she refuses to get rid of to this day began

You have yet to tell them that her favorite uncle is actually Amatsumara- you guys can rest assured that he is the go to babysitter for her because she clings just as hard to him as she does to you guys (no, you two aren’t a little jealous, what makes you think that-)

When you’re first boy is born- you two are not prepared for the mass chaos that is held in his little body- he is an absolute gremlin

You don’t even know how- Takemaru blames you; you are offended

He’s such a needy baby and he cries constantly- and then he laughs when he knocks something out of one of your guys’ hands

You two love him to death- you swear

His sissy tries to help since you two keep her right next to you when your tending to your little boy- always giving her head pats or nodding along when she softly coo about something- but, there’s only so much a one year old can do to help

But she really tries her hardest

It’s easier for all three of you when the next boy comes along because he’s exactly like your oldest boy was and your girl has aged a little bit so she can do a tad bit more than when she was younger- not much, but still

Though your oldest boy brings his own bouts of problems to the table too because boy does he want to see how bouncy his brother is

You and Takemaru both dived to keep your oldest boy from using his little brother as a literal baby trampoline. Suffice to say, he got in trouble

By the time the last two are born/come in, you guys are basically baby experts- like, hot damn, you guys got everything lined up with zero hesitation and can read the boys like a damn book

You guys immediately know what they need/want without them even uttering a cry; your daughter has also picked up this skill and she takes care of the other two toddlers too, which helps you guys a whole bunch

Oh! Oh! You’re little girl really likes holding her baby brother- like, really likes to hold him and can hold him for hours on end

She’s very attached to him and Takemaru lives for it tbh

Though she loves all her brothers and her brothers all really love her too

When the boys are all toddler aged, they will literally work together to keep Takemaru from going to work by ganging up on him and clinging to his legs; little do they know is that their papa doesn’t have tree trunk legs for nothing- so he just walks, albeit with the funniest gait because of the four children clinging to both of his legs, and just goes about his morning until he gets to the door where he begins to pull them off with one hand and lift them up so he could plant a big ol’ kiss on their forehead and tell them that he loves them and he’ll see them when he gets home; the boys are all squealing in delight when this happens. You’re daughter will trail behind the fiasco while holding your hand and he’ll always hold open his arms for you and her to rush into his arms and hug him- and so he can also give you two forehead smooches uwu

When you guys need babysitters literally the Crafters are all for it, though Heph is a little nervous about it, but Talos is literally raring to go! He fucking loves kids!

Your girl loves Amatsu, as mentioned before; your oldest boy LOVES Musashi, they get into so much trouble together, though they both calmed down a bit after your little girl almost got hit in the head with a rock and Amatsu about hung them from their toes; your second and third oldest love watching Kurogane work, like, they will actively be asking him questions at rapid fire speed. It’s honestly amazing how he keeps up with their questions while he’s tinkering with whatever he project he’s working on this week; your youngest one is fascinated with Heph himself, he’ll always seek him out, usually hobbling to Talos and asking him if he could hang out with them and Talos is always quick to say yes. At first, Heph was really nervous about having him there but over time he started to get used to his presence (and this is technically his little brother right? He has to be nice to him!) and now he sits him on his lap so he can see what Heph is doing and he’ll even let him help with the smaller stuff in the project. It’s most likely gonna be with something harmless, like a little toy robot lion tbh

Sometimes they don’t want to give them back tbh

Takemaru almost threw hands with Musashi because he hid your oldest and refused to tell you guys where he was because “you aren’t taking away our little buddy, old chap!” Turns out you kiddo was just taking a nap inside of one of Musashi’s napping nooks-

By the time their tween years role around, the boys are bouncing off the walls and your little girl is trying so fucking hard to keep them under control

You swear you guys have white hairs from the boys specifically because your third oldest came

running in with his whole hand stuck in the pickle jar- you don’t even know how?????? Takemaru literally had to break it open because he couldn’t pull your kid’s damn hand out of the jar

Oml, puberty is a trip, especially when it happened to your oldest boy: you come into the living just to see your him sitting and staring at the fire in the fireplace, looking like he saw something horrific and so, like the good mama/papa/nano you are, you come and put a comforting hand on his shoulder and ask: “honey, what’s wrong?”

To which this little shit replies in the most distraught voice: “My balls look like moss balls.”

You sit, blinked, and had to let it sink in with what he meant, when you heard a horrified gasp from behind you and you turned to see your husband covering your daughter's ears. “WE DON’T TALK ABOUT THOSE THINGS IN FRONT OF THE LADY/LADIES, YOUNG MAN.”

“BUT THEY DO, DAD! IT’S TERRIBLE- THEY’RE SO ITCHY-”

You had drowned out the conversation by that point and from the look on your daughters face- she has too

Your other three are much more… calm? About the whole ordeal; at the very least they’re not loud like their older brother is about it

Your daughter is the chillest with it, she reads a lot of books so she kinda pieced together what was happening of her own accord

The boys all cackle together when their voices crack and have made a whole game about who’s voice could crack the most

They all like to tinker with things thanks to Takemaru and the other Crafters influences! Your daughter is into intricate things, like limbs and the likes; your oldest son is into metal work, especially with swords; your second and third are both really interested in making little rockets; and your youngest is fascinated with robots because Talos and Orihime are so cool?????? Oml???

So you two got a horde of brainiacs and you’re so proud of them

By the time they’re in high school, your daughter is already wracking up scholarships for her little inventions and essays on her observations. Your boys are taking it a bit more slowly than their sister is, but that doesn’t meant that your oldest boy isn’t selling his metal works for a good price, and your two middle sons are already piecing together a little shop of their own (with dad’s help- Take’s pretty good with money and budgeting), and you’re youngest has really been brushing up on robotics! He studies under Uncle Heph and Uncle Talos and it’s super fucking cute??????

Heph is suprisingly good at teaching (despite him swearing that he’s not) and your little boy just soaks up the information like a fucking sponge.

One thing that they all do together is ask Takemaru how to build things and work with wood and carpentry- you can bet your ass he shows them all the ropes of how to make a home. He even goes over electrical and plumbing work with them. You have so many videos and pictures of them working together and just learning by Takemaru’s example- it makes your heart swell with happiness and love.

God forbid your daughter ever gets a significant other because they have Takemaru, her three brothers, and the entirety of the Crafters (and you if you're an overprotective parent) to watch out for.

They get five different shovel talks in a span of three minutes. But, ultimately, she’s not dumb with her choices in partners, so they’re most likely good people. And you can rest easy with that knowledge.

When they graduate, there’s tears for each of their graduations. Takemaru pulls them into bone crushing hugs and blubbers about how broad he is of them and how they’ll still always be his little Onis (regardless of if they’re actually Onis or not). Your girl straight up sobs and hugs her dad back, her brothers piling in the group hug, crying just as hard. Your oldest boy is in hysterics when he graduates, and your last two boys tackle their papa in a hug and they go tumbling to the ground laughing and crying.

They don’t leave right away after high school and instead, all of them find a college/trade school close enough for them to go to and fro without having to leave the nest yet- which Takemaru has no issue with, he’s very much a tight-knit family type of man.

Having a family with Takemaru is the most domestic and tooth rotting sweetness you can ever ask for. And, at the end of the day, he’s just so grateful that you were willing to go on this journey with him.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to support me consider donating to my Ko-fi!

[iam93percentstardust]

i was about to ask you to continue your marvels unsolved ‘verse but then i saw your specific ships so i’m going to ask for a fantasy au with winteriron!! but tbh you should do whatever makes you happy it’s your birthday month!!! (happy birthday! your writing makes me so happy thank you so much for it)

Thank you so much!! I’m so happy you like my writing!!!

I ended up being inspired by the magical flower shop AU I wrote last August, but that’s not necessary to read to understand this fic. Since tumblr is still having issues with links, I won’t include the link here but if you’re interested in that one, it’s Chapter 27 of AU-gust

As always, this fic can be found on my ao3!

Roses and Rowan

It’s storming when Bucky drives past Ravenspoint’s limits. The rain is coming down hard enough that he almost misses the sign for the little town in all the gloom, but then there’s a flash of lightning, illuminating the foreboding faces of the town patriarchs glaring down at those who would dare enter their town. Bucky shivers, resolutely turning away as he continues on his way.

He’s not here for them anyway. The patriarchs are long dead, their only descendants long since fled. There’s another flash of lightning, this time illuminating the hill off to the left and the old manor on the hilltop. From what little bit he can see through the storm, it looks like it was once a stately mansion but it’s falling into disrepair now. Bucky blinks and suddenly he can see the golden glimmer of the wards around the whole hill, sealing the house and grounds off from the would-be adventurers brave enough to test their mettle against the ghosts of Rosewood Manor.

Another shiver runs down his spine. The magic is strangely familiar, though he can’t place where he might have seen it before. He blinks again and the golden glimmer of the wards disappears from his view. “Spooky,” Bucky mutters. In the passenger seat, Alpine mraows her agreement. He reaches over and scratches under her chin, grinning when she purrs loud enough to drown out the music coming from the car speakers.

They pull into town a few minutes later, only knowing it by the stoplight Bucky just barely manages to make out through the sheets of rain pounding down. He would have missed it otherwise, the storm too heavy and the buildings too dark to see in the night. Ravenspoint is a small town with a population of only three thousand people, exactly one stoplight, and two streets that run the length of town, connected by a series of smaller cross streets. It’s exactly the last place Bucky ever thought he would find himself and yet here he is, searching for someone who had made it clear he didn’t want to be found.

“What am I doing, Alpine?” he asks the cat. “He told me he didn’t want me to come after him.”

Alpine can’t respond but she rolls over, exposing her belly to him, and he gets the sense of reassurance through their bond.

“I know,” he responds. “Tellin’ people he wants to be left alone when that’s usually the last thing he wants. But let’s be real here, this place is pretty far off the beaten track.”

Another pulse of reassurance.

“Well if you ask me—” the helper figment starts to say.

“I didn’t,” Bucky interrupts before it can say anything else. Damn figment’s been more trouble than it’s worth this whole trip. “Where’s the turn?”

The figment gives him a sullen look. “In five hundred yards, off to the right.”

Even as the figment says it, Bucky spots the glowing lights of the shop in the distance. He slows down and pulls over into one of the parking spots off the street, peering up through the rain at the shop sign above the door.

“Bluebells and Belladonnas,” he reads. “He always did like alliteration.”

“Great,” the figment says waspishly. “Can I go now? I got a hot—”

Bucky flicks his fingers and the figment disappears back to whatever dimension figments come from. Alpine flicks her tail lazily, giving off a sense of amusement and a little bit of hunger. Bucky laughs and scratches her chin again.

“Yeah, I would’ve let you eat it if it wouldn’t have given you indigestion,” he says. “’nother couple of minutes. I’m sure he has fresh tuna for you.”

He sighs and looks at the shop again. The sign on the front says it’s closed but there are lights on inside both in the shop itself and in the apartment above the shop, telling him that the owner is probably still working.

“So what’re you doing sitting out here?” he asks himself. He gives another baleful look at the stormy clouds and the rain still pouring down, groans, and then shrugs his hood up over his head. Nothing for it. The rain isn’t supposed to let up for another couple of hours and Bucky doesn’t feel like sitting in the car that long.

“You gonna be good out here?” he asks Alpine. She blinks slowly at him. That’s a yes, then.

Quick as he can, he gets out and dashes for the cover the awning provides. Once there, he throws his hood back and then knocks on the door. He waits about a minute before knocking again, this time a lot louder. It takes a moment before he sees a person-shaped blob behind the water-streaked glass. He knocks for a third time. The person gets larger as they move closer and then the door unlocks and swings open with a wave of the person’s hand.

“What—”

“You know,” Bucky says, stepping over the threshold. He bites back a shiver as a wave of magic washes over him, verifying that he has no ill intent. “You are a hard person to find.”

“Yeah, some people would take that as a hint,” Tony Stark states flatly, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares at Bucky.

~

Bucky is born with the ability to see magic. Or, at least, that’s the sfigmentlest way to explain it, if not the most accurate. Just about everyone can “see” magic but what they see are actually just the effects of magic—what was produced or what was done. Bucky has the ability to actually see the threads of magic. It’s a Barnes family gift, although none of the Barnes mages have had this ability in nearly two centuries. Bucky is the first in a very long time and because of that, he ends up having to go to school rather than being trained at home by the family mage (also known as Ma to Bucky and his sister).

It's at school that he meets his best friend, Stevie, and Stevie’s other best friend, Tony. Tony is a bit of an oddball, not that Bucky and Steve are incredibly popular either. Steve should be popular because of his dragon heritage and the power that brings him but he comes into his inheritance late and has a strong sense of morality and that gets him into trouble, more often than not. And Bucky just ends up following behind him.

But Tony—Tony is hard to pin down. He has incredible amounts of power, which is unusual in a mage from the Jarvis line. He’s a lot younger than most of the other kids, which isn’t so unusual for people with a lot of power—Bucky can think of a couple examples off the top of his head of people who went to school early because of their powers—but all those people went to school early because they didn’t have control, and Tony is nothing if not controlled. He doesn’t much look like either of his parents and the way he acts sometimes… it’s clear that he’s been through a lot, is all.

It’s not until their fourth year that Bucky starts putting the pieces together, and it starts when he finds out that Tony doesn’t actually get his powers from the Jarvis line but from the Carbonell line instead. He wasn’t supposed to overhear that but he and Steve had gotten in trouble again and were sitting outside the Headmistress’s office while she finished up a meeting with the Jarvises.

That’s when he’d heard it: “The Carbonell magic is strong in Tony,” the Headmistress had said, and that had been all Bucky had heard as the pieces had started falling into place. It had always puzzled Bucky how Tony’s magic, so suited to big things, had come from the Jarvises, both of whom were more skilled in household charms and enchantments, but if Tony was adopted… Adoption was rare in magical families, as magic was so often tied to filial lines, but it wasn’t unheard of, and that explained so much about Tony.

He spends some time in the library after that, researching the Carbonells. They’re an old line, originating in Italy, before coming to the Americas in the late sixteenth century. They’re known for producing powerful mages with the exact same proficiency in metallurgy that Tony’s always demonstrated. The last of them, Maria, had married one of the Starks, a newer family with a proficiency in elemental magics—another of Tony’s skills, Bucky realizes—and that’s where the trail goes cold. He never finds another mention of the Carbonells, or the Starks for that matter, in any of the old history books.

But there has to be more to the story, Bucky knows. Because there’s Tony, who looks just like Maria Carbonell, and that means there has to be more. However, he never brings it up. That’s Tony’s story, and if he doesn’t want to tell them, he doesn’t have to.

He never stops hoping that Tony will, though.

~

Tony is looking at him now, eyes dark and arms crossed. Bucky has changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he’d brought with him as his clothes had ended up drenched, even from just the short run from the car and back out to grab Alpine and his travel bag. His clothes are drying by the fire now as Alpine explores the apartment, sniffing around curiously. Bucky is curious as well, but he’s been so busy drinking in the sight of Tony after almost two years of nothing that he hasn’t taken the time yet to look around.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?” Tony asks eventually.

He shrugs. “I came to find you.”

“Thought I made it obvious I didn’t want to be found.”

“I thought we had unfinished business,” Bucky says quietly. He gazes at Tony steadily until Tony squirms and turns away, busying himself with the coffeepot on the counter. He prepares two cups of coffee, one with more sugar than most people can stand and one with more milk than coffee, and hands the one with milk to Bucky.

Bucky takes one sip and blinks in surprise. “This is decaf,” he says.

“Yeah, and?”

“Tony, you don’t drink decaf. You called it the devil’s brew.”

There’s a hint of a smile lurking around the corners of Tony’s mouth as he raises his own cup to his mouth. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“Seems like you’ve forgotten a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Like how I promised you I’d follow you anywhere.”

Tony stills for a moment before he puts his cup back down on the counter. “Bucky—”

“Tony, why?” Bucky asks, not even bothering to hide the anguish in his voice. It’s how he’s felt every day since Tony disappeared two years ago. “You told me we’d talk the next day, only I woke up to find you’d run. Did I push too hard? Was it not what you wanted?” He stops, frustrated and upset, and scrubs his hand over his face.

“Bucky, no,” Tony says, dismayed. He moves forward, taking Bucky’s hands between his. “It wasn’t you. You have to believe me. It was never you.”

“Then what was it?”

Tony bites his lip, hesitating. Even without using his Sight, Bucky can see golden magic swirling under Tony’s skin, pooling at his hands where they’re touching Bucky’s. He blinks and now he can see his own magic, cool silver, gathering at his fingertips, aching to reach out and touch Tony’s. Their magic has always been compatible, always stronger when they’re together, even before Bucky figured out his complicated feelings for Tony.

“Doll?” he asks, immediately regretting the pet name when it makes Tony flinch. He doesn’t take it back though. This is who he is, a little old-fashioned and a little flirty and a lot in love with Tony Stark.

“It’s me,” Tony eventually admits, looking down at their hands as though he can see the magic too. “I got scared. It’s—I’m not who you think I am.”

“Not what? Not a Jarvis? Tony, I’ve known that for ten years.”

Tony’s head jerks up so fast Bucky’s own neck aches in sympathy. “What did you say?”

“Tony, I know you’re not a Jarvis,” Bucky says again, patiently. He’s never admitted this to anyone before, let alone Tony. He can afford to be careful right now.

“How did you know that?” Tony breathes. “We’ve never told anyone.”

“Except for the Headmistress,” Bucky points out. “You prob’ly had to tell her so she could help you with your abilities.”

“We did,” Tony whispers.

He shrugs. “Stevie and I overheard her one time. She said your magic came from the Carbonell line. I got curious, thought it might explain why you and the Jarvises are so different, so I looked it up.”

“You didn’t think that was invading my privacy?”

The words are harsh but Tony doesn’t look upset. He looks—hopeful, almost, like he wants to believe Bucky knows everything about him and doesn’t judge him for it. It makes Bucky bold and he steps forward, right into Tony’s space, as he tugs one of his hands free and uses it to tuck one of Tony’s curls behind his ear, fingers brushing against his cheek.

“You are a puzzle I’ve only ever wanted to solve,” Bucky murmurs, bowing his head to rest his forehead against Tony’s. His hand cups Tony’s cheek for the briefest moment and then falls to his shoulder. Tony closes his eyes and inhales shakily. “But the moment the trail went cold, I stopped looking. It didn’t seem right to keep digging.”

“What did you find?” Tony asks.

“Two names: Howard Stark and Maria Carbonell, that’s it.”

Tony nods. “Those were my parents.”

“Were?”

“Could be are. I don’t know where they went after they left me, but I stopped calling them mine the moment they were gone.”

“What happened?” He feels Tony tense under his hand and quickly adds, “If you want to tell me. Don’t feel like you have to.”

“No, it’s—I want to,” Tony says, sounding frustrated. The space between his brows furrows in irritation. “I’ve just never told anyone and—I’m not sure I’m ready to tell the full story yet. It’s a lot.”

“Whatever you’re ready for, then. And when you’re ready for the rest, I’ll be right here to listen.”

Tony takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “I was born at Rosewood Manor,” he says quietly.

“That place outside of town?”

“Mmhmm. That’s my magic you probably saw guarding it.”

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony, that place looks like it hasn’t had anyone living there for fifteen years.”

“Over twenty actually. I was three when—when that happened.”

“You were three? And you had that kind of control?”

Tony laughs humorlessly. “Believe me, that night I had no control at all.” He falls silent. Bucky waits for more, but Tony seems to be done talking for tonight, so he turns his head and kisses the corner of Tony’s mouth instead.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says.

Tony grimaces. “Not like I told you much of anything.”

“You told me what you were comfortable with. Believe me, doll, after two years of nothing—”

“You keep doing that,” Tony interrupts. “Calling me doll.”

Bucky hesitates. “I thought you liked it when I did that.”

Tony looks away, a bitter twist to his mouth. “I left.”

“Yeah…”

“I left right after you kissed me because I was scared and couldn’t face up to what was going on between us even though I promised we’d talk.”

Bucky waits, sure that if he stays silent, Tony will explain further. It’s a trick that he’s used in the past and it’s always worked. Sure enough, after another couple moments:

“You know, I was so sure you were dating Steve? Let me finish please,” Tony says calmly, holding up a hand when Bucky opens his mouth. “You don’t know what it was like. I might have met Steve first but it was so clear that you two were a lot closer than I would ever be with him. So yes, I was convinced you two were dating and that I was alone in my feelings and when I found out I wasn’t, I panicked. I thought it was Tony Jarvis you liked, not—”

“I like you,” Bucky interrupts, unable to keep hearing Tony talk about how he’d thought Bucky wasn’t serious about him, when he thinks maybe it’s the only thing he’s ever been serious about. “I like you as Tony Jarvis, Tony Carbonell, Tony Stark, or just plain Tony.”

“Like?” Tony asks shyly.

Bucky grins and kisses the other corner of Tony’s mouth. “Do you think I would have kept searching for you for two years if I didn’t still like you?”

Tony leans back for a moment, searching his eyes for something before he eventually says, “And what about Tony Barnes?”

Bucky’s heart about stops. He wheezes out, “You—”

“It’s not—I needed a name when I came back to Ravenspoint. I didn’t want anyone to know who I was and it’s a small town. People know every other name I go by, but—I didn’t think you’d mind or I wouldn’t—”

Bucky can’t stop himself anymore. He frames Tony’s face in his hands and kisses him soundly. It’s closed-mouthed and chaste and it’s still the best damn kiss he’s ever had, next to the only other time he kissed Tony. Tony’s hands flutter in the air for a second before wrapping around Bucky’s waist, clutching him to him.

“I love you calling yourself by my name,” he says hoarsely, pulling away long enough to get the words out before he kisses Tony again. “And one day, I swear I’ll give you that name for real, forever and always.” This time, it’s Tony who whfigmenters and kisses him again, sucking Bucky’s tongue into his mouth as Bucky’s hands slide back into his hair to hold him right where he wants him.

“Wait,” Tony pants, struggling against Bucky’s grip to move away. Bucky lets him go reluctantly, gratified when Tony only moves a couple inches. “How did you find me?”

“Your magic,” Bucky tells him, trailing kisses across every inch of his face. “It’s been callin’ out to me since the day you left, leavin’ me a trail to follow.”

“Lucky me,” Tony whispers.

And as Bucky kisses him again, unable to resist for a single second, he thinks to himself, No. Lucky me.

[sunlightwoo]

Just Three Wishes

pairing: changmin x g.n reader

genre: childhood friends(?) to lovers au, fluff (i think this was really cute tbh)

wc: 2.8k

plot: You meet someone from your past as they come back into your life with a coupon that you handwritten when you were six, asking for three wishes for Christmas. What you couldn’t think about, however, was how your childhood crush got their hands on it, considering he wasn’t the recipient of the original gift.

a/n: this was actually my first collab that i’ve ever done for tbz and i was like crazy nervous for it ahaha but thank you to Dana ( @timextoxhajima​​​ ) for creating this cute "12 days of christmas’ collab and for the other creators that also are apart of it!! you guys are all amazing writers and i look up to you all as a deobi writer ahaha but this was fun to write!! i hope you guys support this collab and give the other lots of love too!!

COLLAB MASTERLIST | MY TBZ MASTERLIST

“Choi Chanhee, what are you going on about?” You grumbled softly as you rubbed the sleep that was still leftover from your eyes, sitting up slightly on your bed while the person on the other end of the phone call that was on your nightstand continued to loudly rant about his problems.

So much for sleeping in, you think to yourself as you continue to listen to your best friend talk into the speaker phone.

“Remember when we were kids, you gave me that coupon where you would grant me three wishes whenever I wanted them? I needed to use them now for this dumb holiday I’m going on, but I can’t find it.” He grumbles and you could hear a bunch of shuffles that indicated he was still looking around his bedroom to look for it.

You remember the coupon that you wrote clearly in messy neon green handwriting, thinking that for your best friend it would be the greatest gift to let him have three wishes that you would grant under any conditions that were given. There was even an entire terms and conditions that you wrote on the back with your six year old conscience putting it into consideration, smartly, before signing it in a signature stamp of a smiley face that you got from a teacher weeks ago as a prize for the golden stars you’ve had all year.

“Where was the last place that you had it? Did you misplaced it anywhere, or maybe someone might’ve taken it from your room, even though it seems stupid for it to happen.” You say and huff out a breath as you hear him deeply sigh on his end in frustration, up until the moment that he speaks up once again.

“The only person that could have possibly taken it as a joke is my roommate, but I don’t know if you remember him from when we were kids.” He mutters almost to himself and you furrow your eyebrows at the thought of who his roommate was, considering you don’t remember him telling you who it was at all.

“Who is it? Juyeon? Kim Younghoon?” You asked and got up from your bed, however you could’ve sworn that if it weren’t for the cushions of your mattress behind you, you would’ve fallen right onto your hardwood floor from the sudden surprise of words that leaves his mouth.

“Ji Changmin, your stupid childhood crush.”

Wish One

You think that it’s quite hilarious that you were scared about meeting up with your childhood crush at your best friend’s apartment considering you’ve been there multiple times in the past. The only difference between those times and apparently now was that he was actually present in the apartment, which meant that there was no other place you could possibly go to.

Memories of Chanhee telling you that Changmin would always hole himself up in a dance studio late at night flashes in your mind, as you remember why you would never see him whenever you went over. However, that didn’t mean that he didn’t exist as you remember the fond boy from when you used to be in elementary school, developing a small crush on him in the third grade because you agreed to ‘date’ for a day or two.

It was quite embarrassing as you remember it, not knowing what you were doing at the time because you were pretty sure that the person you were back then was different from present you. Of course you were, it’s been over fifteen years since you last saw him and wrote the coupon so what difference would it have made?

As you finally arrived at the familiar apartment building, you made your way to the familiar floor with the festive decorations on it with caution, softly knocking on the door as you waited for the person on the other end to open it. The sight that you were greeted with, however, made it feel as though your breath had gotten knocked out of your lungs, since the person in front of you was definitely not the childhood crush that you had back when you were a kid.

“Ji Changmin.”

His name easily slips out of your mouth as if it were like a baby on a slide, and you watch as a small grin paints across his lips while he leans against the doorframe. The smile that was on his face was no different from the one that you recognized in the past that never seemed to change, however he had grown well, you think to yourself as you looked at him with a surprised look.

“Y/N, it’s good to see you again. Chanhee told me you were visiting.” He says while you hummed in response entering into the small home after he had moved aside for you to step in.

“He told me that you had something of mine that you stole from him.” You mused, turning to look at him with an eyebrow raised while you stood in the middle of his living, watching as he grins widely while holding up the familiar coupon from your six year old self.

Why did you think it was so cute back then?

“It was never addressed to him properly,” He playfully retorts and you could tell that from the glimmer of mischief in his eyes that he was up to no good, making little butterflies appear in your stomach from how attractive he suddenly looked in the light, “Which means I technically have the three wishes now, if your coupon is still valid of course.”

You weren’t sure why you were suddenly feeling attracted towards this more grown version of Changmin, but something about his confidence and aura screamed for you to get close to him once again; see what changed and what stayed the same from what you remembered him for. However, you were also a bit wary considering it’s also been years since you last saw him, which means that you weren’t sure what he was capable of in terms of your heart.

“What’s your first wish then?” You say while crossing your arms in front of your chest and he smiles a bit before thinking for a bit as he looks back at you with a softer look on his face.

“Let’s go on a boba date, to catch up for all the years that we missed,” He says and holds out his hand for you to take, making you give him an unsure look before placing your hand into his as you allowed for him to drag you to whatever boba place that he liked, “I promise, I’ll be the gentleman and pay for it.”

After that promise, you do end up at the boba place catching up with one another about the years that you missed from one another, including the ones where you already heard of the speculations from Chanhee. It was almost as if the two of you had still kept in touch with one another once in a while, like you never stopped talking to one another because of your different ways, but you were grateful that he never went into too much depth with your childhood.

That didn’t stop the butterflies in your stomach, however, to stop erupting in your stomach with every glance that he threw at you, making it even harder for you to even think about his other two wishes.

Wish Two

You somehow find yourself spending more and more time with Changmin after his first wish, finding some sort of comfort in his company despite the teasing that always came from Chanhee. He took pride in himself after that first wish that he was happy that Changmin stole the coupon from him, up until he was dragged back to his situation with his family at home during the holiday.

Giggling to yourself, you looked out your window to see the grey and white skies indicating that it’d snow pretty soon, wondering what he might be up to on his end of the sky. As if it were on cue, your phone lights up with a text message from him that makes you raise an eyebrow at his wish just as an incoming call arrives shortly afterwards.

“You want to use a wish to go ice skating?” You muse, holding your phone up to your ear as you were already getting up from where you were to go pick out an outfit from your closet to wear.

“It’s pretty nice outside to go skating though, don’t you think? Plus it’d be fun for us to go, after how much we had fun catching up last time.” He grins on his end, making a smile spread across your face at how excited his tone was on the line.

His positive aura was contagious enough to even spread to you through the phone.

“I suppose… Just pick me up in fifteen minutes.” You say, smiling as he hums in response before hanging up the call which makes you think to yourself; was this even a date?

After throwing together a good outfit that would keep you warm from the harsh winter, you smiled to yourself as you admired how put together it looked when you heard the sound of a car resonating from outside. Noticing that it was the familiar car driven by Changmin, you grabbed your phone and keys before leaving your apartment to go ice skating

The entire trip was comfortable considering you two were still at the level of friends that were still getting closer to one another. You remember what Changmin had said the last time that you two had met, where during your boba date he remembers vaguely how you both dated for a day or so while looking at you amusedly for your reaction to it, in which you remember cringing to it slightly.

It seemed as though your thoughts were gone by the time that you both made it to the skating arena that was close by to the park that you recognized from your middle school days. A smile paints your face as you notice the little kids that were skating around with their friends and family along with the different couples that were skating around as well, making you turn to look at Changmin with a curious look as you noticed that he was already looking at you.

“This isn’t a date, is it?” You asked him in an amused tone and he gives you a playful look before shrugging slightly, a breath escaping his lips as he glances between you and the arena.

If anything, he’d think that he was being obvious with his actions towards you, that there was that side of him showing how much he really liked you and admired how well you grew up since the last time you two encountered.

From the moment that he found out from Chanhee that you, said roommate’s best friend, was the same person from his childhood that he had a huge crush on and dated for possibly a day or two. He remembered the way that your eyes would always light up at the sight of one another as kids, along with how it would also be whenever you talked about your day or admirations so passionately that would make his childhood crush on you stronger.

So when he knew that you were still honoring the wishes that you owed Chanhee, he took it upon himself to take it for himself instead and hope that maybe you wouldn’t be too mad at him for stealing them. He was surprised that it ended up being the complete opposite seeing as though you were willing to go on the boba date, and now the ice skating date after weeks of warming up to one another again this winter.

He wished that maybe, those feelings from back then were reciprocated as the strong feelings that he held for you now after hiding himself from you for so long.

“What if I wanted it to be a date?” He responds to your question, giving you a more hopeful look that makes you feel flustered in your seat while you could feel a small rush of heat at your cheeks, eyes darting away from his to look at the ice skating arena once more.

You weren’t sure if it was the fact that he was your childhood crush, or maybe it was the new emotions of him still being your crush now that was making you feel this way, that you were slowly falling for Ji Changmin again. It was almost a haphazard  for your heart, you think, that you were falling for the kind boy once again like you did back then for everything that he became in this present day.

And you weren’t complaining about it either as you pondered to yourself whether you should take today’s date as an actual date or a wish that he wanted to use.

“I guess it wouldn't hurt then, right?” You say and you could tell that by the way that his hand snuck into yours to give it a soft squeeze, you knew that you’d be okay.

Wish Three

It was a quiet morning that you wake up Christmas morning somehow arms wrapped around someone’s torso as the light coming in from your window was beaming through. It made you confused since you weren’t used to the feeling of being with someone on the holiday that you didn’t celebrate as much as your peers did, but it was the sight of the person beside you that somehow made a smile appear after remembering how you got here.

After the ice skating date that Changmin had taken you on weeks ago, you both went on another boba date that resulted in him asking if you wanted to go out with him without the label because he wanted to go slow with you. You, for one, weren’t complaining considering you had rather taken it slowly when you both had just reconnected about two months ago in the cold.

Now it was two months later on Christmas morning that you found yourself wrapped around each other’s limbs as the snow from last night’s storm was finally over and accumulated to the large piles of snow outside. You looked at Changmin with a smile that had met your eyes, taking in his soft facial features as he continued to sleep while facing you at the same time.

It wasn’t until you noticed him stir and his eyes were now suddenly locked onto yours that he gave you an amused look while smiling shyly to himself. In almost a split second, his shy demeanor changes to a more playful one where his hands now meet your sides to tickle you up and down as a loud bundle of giggles escape your lips.

“Hey, stop it! You can’t just do that!” You call out in between breaths and laughters, giving him a look when he pauses to give you a mischievous grin that made you acknowledge that at this point, he was never up to anything good.

But then again, you wouldn’t be surprised considering that it was just him that would make your heart speed up at the pace that it was going at like it was now; too fast.

“What if I said I wanted to use up my last wish today as my Christmas gift? Can I do that?” He says releasing you from his hold as he allowed for you to catch your breath to think without having his tickles distracting you from what he had planned for his last wish.

These last few weeks he hopes that all of the signals of you both just enjoying your time in the present were the ones that were all greenlights for what he wanted to do. He had been wanting to finally make it official with you, but he wasn’t sure how you would feel about it considering that even though it was his last wish, it could go against your ‘terms in conditions’ if you were to say no in response to it.

“What did you want to grant as your last wish then?” You ask him softly, looking at him in curiosity as he pretends to think to himself the question when he glances at you once more.

In a blink of an eye, he leans forward to connect your lips into a gentle kiss that was full of warmth and love, one that was able to leave you breathless enough to make you blink for a moment when you both pull away. A smile is painted across his lips as you are caught flustered and off guard, making you look at him confusedly when he speaks up once again.

“My last wish is for me to finally become your boyfriend, for real this time and only if you’ll let me.”

[rosenallies]

magic, madness, heaven, sin

Ask and you shall receive tbh, shoutout to @vanjiestoes for being the best cheerleader and adding some amazing words of your own, you’re really the best and I probably would literally write nothing ever if you didn’t beat it out of me with a stick. 💖💖

--

If Denali had known anything about the rich people in this town, it was that Rosé McCorkell was among the richest. CEO and head of McCorkell enterprises, Denali didn’t know exactly what she did, but she didn’t care, the dollar signs were there in the redhead’s eyes and that’s all Denali could see. After all, she didn’t get into being a call girl turned scam artist for the benefits.

In which Denali is a sex worker turned scam artist who meets rich Rosé.

CW// smut, drinking, drug use, mentions of violence, and guns

Link to AO3

--

One, two, three, four, five, that’s how many seconds Denali is in the club before she spots her. It was dark, but the bright red hair and emerald eyes could be spotted a mile away. She was alone, sat in a VIP booth and sipping a dark red wine from a crystal glass. Denali can’t help but smirk, the lonely ones are always so easy and willing. The redhead’s eyes bore into Denali’s from across the club, beckoning her over with just a glance. Following her cues, Denali painted on an innocent face and walked over to her sliding herself in the booth right beside her.

“Hi,” she giggled, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “I’m Denali, what’s your name?”

The redhead took a sip of wine before putting her glass back on the table. “I’m Rosé.”

Denali’s eyes widened. “McCorkell?”

Rosé smirked. “The one and only.”

If Denali had known anything about the rich people in this town, it was that Rosé MCorkell was among the richest. CEO and head of McCorkell enterprises, Denali didn’t know exactly what she did, but she didn’t care, the dollar signs were there in the redhead’s eyes and that’s all Denali could see. After all, she didn’t get into being a call girl turned scam artist for the benefits. Denali used her looks and charm to her advantage, turning rich businessmen and women into putty in her hands.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Rosé asked, breaking Denali from her trance.

She smiled flirtatiously and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Of course.”

Rosé handed Denali a drink menu, letting her mull over it for a minute before she set it down. “How about we order a bottle of champagne? Maybe some Dom Perignon, top shelf?”

“Expensive taste,” Rosé chuckled, “whatever you want, sweetheart, it’s on me.”

She waved the waiter down and sent him off for a bottle with an extra $200 in his pocket. He reappeared quickly as he disappeared, a golden bottle of chilled champagne and two flutes in hand, setting it down in front of them as Rosé slipped him another $50 for the pour. Two glasses were filled and set back down on the table before Rosé turned her attention back to Denali, clinking their glasses together.

“What are we toasting for?” Denali asked.

Rosé hummed around the rim of her glass. “To a good night.”

“To a good night,” Denali repeated, sipping delicately. They set their glasses down and Denali half expected Rosé to start talking about herself, like every other person of high status she’s met. It was always ‘I went to this ivy league’ and ‘I have this many sports cars,’ but not with Rosé,who seemed interested in talking about anything but herself.

“So what got you into this,” she paused, choosing her words carefully, “ business.”

Denali scoffed. “And what business do you think that might be?”

Rosé placed a finger underneath her chin, lifting her face so that they were eyelevel. “You’re a feisty one, I like that.”

Ignoring the way heat creeped up her spine, Denali narrowed her eyes, matching Rosé’s energy.

Rosé let Denali’s face go, sipping from her glass again. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

“Good luck with that,” Denali said quietly.

**

Four years ago, Denali was in a completely different place, picking up small jobs and grovelling for cash to pay off her debts. Debts that she had accumulated throughout four years of college for a degree she could barely even use. Her parents were poor, they couldn’t help her. Loans were her only option, and paying those loans back was something that stressed her out beyond belief.

She had no job opportunities, and no idea how to pay off her loans.

It wasn’t until she was spending the day with her friend, Olivia, that she thought she might finally have a solution.

“Have you tried being, you know, an escort ?” Olivia dropped her voice on the last word.

“I’m sorry?” Denali raised her eyebrows at the other girl, “what’s that?”

“Oh, you know, someone who... hangs out ...with people for a profit.”

“You mean-” Denali’s voice became nothing louder than a whisper, “a prostitute?!”

“No!” Olivia looked offended, but then she thought about it for a moment, “well, yeah, I think that’s essentially what we are.”

“Wait, we?!”

Things started off easy, a handjob in the back of a fancy club scored her a crisp hundred dollar bill and from there things escalated as people began to seek her services more and more. The work was hard, but she had never pulled in so much money at once, especially as high profile people sought her out, recommending her to their friends who swam in cash up to their necks and had no problem blowing it on a pretty brunette with doe eyes and an ass to die for.

The first time she ran into any problems was a few months in. The client was a younger man from a few towns over, his blue eyes were cold and his hands were rough on her body. He seemed sleazy, but his tailored suit and luxury hotel room told her that he had money. To the untrained eye, he might have appeared classy and professional, but Denali had seen the look in his eye from the moment they met,she had always been good at reading people. Turns out, her intuition was spot on. After he had finished, she quickly got dressed, hand outstretched for the money he owed her.

He lit a cigarette and scoffed. “Nice try, whore.”

“We agreed on a price, and I expect that,” she tried, arms crossed over her chest.

He laughed. “Just get out of here before someone sees you.”

Denali stood her ground, standing in front of him with a fire behind her eyes, the switchblade she carried for her own protection heavy in her pocket. “I expect payment.”

“And what are you going to do about it?”

She didn't think twice before pulling the switchblade out, pressing the tip to his throat. “This could go one of two ways, one I slit your throat and end your miserable life right now or  two, you can pay me what you owe me, and maybe a little bit more for my trouble.”

The coldness in his eyes never once flickered, even as she threatened his life.

“Or better yet, maybe your wife and kids would like to hear about this? Paying some poor girl off the street to fuck you because you can’t get it up for wifey anymore. I bet all your conservative voters would love to hear that their pick to win a senate seat next election spends his time fucking prostitutes,” she seethed.

There it was, the fear that she had been looking for that sparked in his eyes, triggered by a ruined reputation over death.

His face flushed red, heart hammering in his chest with anxiety.”Okay, fine, my wallet is in the top drawer of the dresser.”

Denali lowered the switchblade and kept an eye on him as she crossed the room. He wasn’t bluffing, his wallet sat in the drawer overflowing with cash. She emptied it, not even bothering to check how much she was taking from him, though she knew it was way over her price. She fanned herself with the bills, laughing. “Someone’s a good tipper.”

She shoved the bills in her coat pocket and exited the room with a newfound confidence, only a little shaken up, but none of that mattered as she felt the weight of stacks of money in her pocket.

I could get used to this , she thought to herself.

**

Rosé talked to her for what felt like hours, the conversation coming surprisingly easy despite the nature of their meeting. Denali finds herself wanting to make Rosé laugh just to hear it over and over again. By the time the club was closing, Denali and Rosé were both tipsy enough.

“Care to continue this at my place?”

Denali bit her lip. “For the right price I’m down for anything.”

Rosé chuckled. “Don’t worry about all that, I always make sure my girls are more than taken care of.”

Denali ignored the way her stomach flipped at hearing Rosé refer to her as ‘one of her girls’, instead letting Rosé lead her out of the club by her hand. Outside the club, a shiny black range rover was parked, the details all in soft pink, similar to the hue of the pantsuit that Rosé wore. For a moment, Denali wonders if Rosé was just a nickname or if she took her birth name and ran with it, surrounding herself in shades of pink. But her pointless thoughts are interrupted by Rosé clearing her throat. “I said, get in, doll. I’m driving.”

Denali got into the car, the interior upgraded in every way possible. She had never been in a car so exquisite.

The drive home was quick, but felt like forever as Rosé gently stroked her thigh while she drove. But soon enough, Rosé was dragging her to an elevator in the parking garage. She punched in a code before turning her attention to Denali. She placed her hands on her hips and leaned in to kiss her heatedly.

“Wait, Rosé, what if someone gets on?” Denali breathed in between kisses.

She hummed against Denali’s mouth. “Leads up into my penthouse, now shut up.”

Her words sent shudders down Denali’s spine, every other time a client has told her to shut up, ice ran through her veins, but somehow Rosé’s words set her skin ablaze, her cheeks burning. When the elevator dinged open, Rosé yanked her inside. She didn’t even have time to have a proper look around before Rosé was dragging her up the twisted staircase to the second floor and to a bedroom with just about the plushest looking bed Denali had ever seen. Rosé wasted no time before tugging on Denali’s dress to ask for permission that the brunette granted with a nod. She unzipped the shiny silver dress and pulled it down Denali’s body, leaving her stark naked save for the heels that she kicked off shortly after.

Rosé smirked. “No panties?”

“Knew I’d be working hard tonight,” she replied with a shrug.

Denali saw a lull in their kissing and touching and used it as an opportunity to take control, flipping their positions and backing Rosé up against the bed and kissing her, only for the redhead to pull away.

“Not yet, baby, I wanna fuck you first.”

Denali’s mouth ran dry, none of her clients ever wanted to reciprocate, nevermind put her first. “Okay,” she squeaked, letting Rosé flip them over yet again. Rosé gently lowered her to the bed, signalling for her to wait while she undressed herself. Each piece of Rosé’s pantsuit that came off excited Denali further, she almost forgot Rosé was a client. Underneath the suit, Rosé’s body was beautiful and curvy, her ample breasts spilling from her lacy bra, even better when she took it off. Denali reached out to touch, the redhead smiling slightly as she knelt on the bed, guiding Denai’s hands to her tits, letting her fondle them gently. She leaned up and attached her mouth to Rosé’s breast, warm tongue flicking over the hardening pink bud while she fondled the other with her palm. Rosé leaned her head back and moaned, getting lost in the pleasure before she remembered she was meant to be taking care of Denali first and foremost. She grabbed the brunette’s hair in her fist and tugged her head away from her body, not enough to hurt her, just enough for Denali to whimper underneath her. But Denali had forgotten all about it as Rosé laid her back down and crawled on top of her, slotting a leg in between her thighs. Denali scooted herself lower so her aching pussy was pressed against Rosé’s bare thigh, the redhead feeling her slick wetness against her skin.

“God, baby girl, are you always this wet?”

Denali’s eyes fluttered shut. “Only for pretty girls like you.”

Rosé hummed in approval. “So hot, sweetheart,” she drawled before leaning down to kiss her again, soft and gentle at first but soon Denali’s whines spurred her on, passion growing as they kissed.

Rosé suddenly pulled away, Denali whining pitifully as she looked up to see Rosé kneeling on the bed and fishing through the drawer to the right of her. She pulled out a little baggie filled with white powder. Denali watched her scoop some up with her fingernail, inhaling it and throwing her head back as it hit her. When she looked back at Denali, her pupils were wide.

“Want some?”

Denali nodded, letting Rosé scoop up a bump and place it under her nose, inhaling the same way she’d seen Rosé do. Rosé smiled, looking into Denali’s eyes, pupils blown from drugs and lust.

Rosé kissed her. “Let’s get back to it

Denali’s skin was hot to the touch and underneath Rosé’s lips as she kissed down her body, being careful not to mar her golden skin, even though both of them wanted more than anything for Rosé to mark her up, make her her own, but no hickies were one of Denali’s rules as it hindered her ability to pick up other clients. By the time Rosé had her mouth on Denali’s thighs, Denali was practically begging for it, her hips wriggling against Rosé’s grip. Rosé’s strong hands gripped her thick thighs, parting them without any effort, Denali already so far gone that Rosé could have practically done anything to her and as long as she was being touched, she didn’t mind. Drugs and lust coursed through her body, every sensation heightened from Rosé’s soft lips on her skin to her blunt nails raking over her thighs, leaving barely noticeable red marks. Every touch left Denali writhing for more.

“Please,” she pleaded, rather pathetically in her book, but the pleasure outweighed the embarrassment. She breathlessly begged until Rosé got to the apex of her thighs, breathing in the scent of her arousal. Rosé nearly moaned herself, Denali’s scent so distinct and sweet she just wanted to eat her up, take in every sound she made and make it the symphony of her life.

“So gorgeous,” she muttered, the vibrations of her voice against Denali’s core making her gasp.

Denali whined, shifting her hips so that Rosé would get the hint. “Rosé, please, please !”

Rosé wasted no more time playing with her, tongue diving in between her folds, her sweet taste putting Rosé in a trance. She didn’t think much, just let primal instincts take over as she ravished Denali, the brunette above her a babbling, shaking mess. Her thick thighs bracketed Rosé’s head in place, nearly suffocating her. But she didn’t mind, if she went out like this, in between the thighs of one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen, she’d thank god for letting her go doing something she loved. She could feel her pulse in her own pussy, Denali’s moans sinful in the best way possible. Rosé reached in between her own legs, circling her clit as she continued her ministrations on Denali. The brunette’s thighs shook as she grew closer and closer to climax, Rosé’s talented mouth working her over until she was coming on Rosé’s face with a scream. Denali had spent a lot of time perfecting her fake moans in order to stay in business, but there was nothing fake about this, every shiver of her body and waiver of her voice was real, lost in the pleasure of Rosé. Once she stopped shaking, Rosé didn’t stop, keeping up the pace until she pulled two more orgasms from her, one after the other. Denali had to thread her hand in Rosé’s hair and yank softly to get her to let up, the sensitivity bordering on painful.

Rosé wiped her chin on the back of her hand, crawling up Denali’s body to hold her as she came down from her high.

“Are you okay?”

Denali’s heart fluttered, no one’s asked her that in a long time, regardless of the situation. She could only manage a nod, burying her face in Rosé’s chest while she came to. It took longer than she’d like to admit, but it had been a while since she’s had an orgasm that good, been a while since she’s had one period, actually. She was always so focused on getting others off that her own pleasure took a backseat, but she had a job to do.

“What do you want me to do to you, hmm?” she purred seductively, a tiredness to her voice.

Rosé only smirked. “I already came. Twice. Was touching myself while eating you out.”

“Oh, but-”

She kissed Denali’s forehead lighty. “It’s okay, get some sleep and I’ll pay you in the morning.”

Denali nodded, feeling safe in Rosé’s arms, safe enough to drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Hours later, Denali woke with a start. The alarm clock by Rosé’s bed read 4:30 in red, the sun still not even up. Rosé was still asleep next to her, her arms no longer tangled around Denali’s waist. Denali felt stupid for letting her guard down, so she snuck out of bed, quickly pulling her dress back on and tip toeing toward the door. She was almost out when she noticed Rosé’s pink birkin on the dresser. Guilt told her not to, but the practical side of her told her she better not leave with nothing, even if the redhead had kissed her softly and put her needs first. She peeked inside the bag, wads of cash just haphazardly thrown in, so much that it was unlikely Rosé would even notice if Denali paid herself and let herself out. But Denali was smarter than that, knew that outwardly stealing from someone as rich and powerful as Rosé would end in disaster. She opened Rosé’s wallet, hoping to at least gather some more information on her to use if she needed it, but something stopped her.

Denali froze as she heard the cock of a pistol behind her, a sound she was all too familiar with in this line of work, the piece she kept on her still hidden in her coat pocket that lay on the floor across the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” came a saccharine sweet voice from behind her.

Denali whipped around to find Rosé standing inches from her, the barrel of the gun pressed into her torso. She should have been scared, but the adrenaline rush was more exhilarating than anything.

“Just-looking around,” Denali lied through her teeth.

Rosé laughed, lowering the gun. “Your true colors are really coming out here, baby girl.”

“What? What are you-?”

“Oh don’t play dumb with me, Nali, I know your game. I’ve been watching you for months now and in fact, I’m pretty impressed.You figure someone as pretty as you wouldn’t have a brain, but you, my darling, prove that to be wrong.” Denali swallowed hard. “You’ve been watching me?”

“I sure have, what you did to that lawyer was really something. The man went through law school only for a pretty little thing like you to outsmart him and scam him out of a quarter of a million dollars.”

“You’re not a cop, are you?” Denali breathed, fear evident in her voice.

“Of course not, angel. I want you to help me.”

She scoffed. “And what exactly would that entail?”

“Whatever you see fit, darling, you’re a smart girl. There’s some people who have,” she paused, “let’s just say they fucked with the wrong family and I want you to make them pay for it.”

Denali narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I’m not a hitwoman, I’m not killing anybody.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, I’m not asking you to kill anyone. I’m thinking blackmail.”

“What’s in it for me?”

Rosé cupped her cheek and kissed her softly. “You either help me and I make it very worth your while or I can contact the authorities and derail your whole little business. And if I were you, I would choose wisely because I am a very powerful woman and something tells me orange isn’t your color.”

Denali felt her cheeks heat up and warmth spread through her core. “Okay, I’m in,” she said.

[jamesvanriemsdyk]

Best GMs and coaches in the league ACC to you?

we can start with gms because coaching is a bit more complicated. best gms in the league is easy to look at because like, who has a good team? who has had a consistently good team? whose locker room is the most cohesive, whose coaching staff is the best? who is the best at acquiring and keeping the best players, coaches, staff, etc? and you can see that in the way teams play. 

(putting this under the cut because it got long. and i mean Long.)

so, in no particular order: kyle dubas (leafs), steve yzerman (red wings, i will explain this later), don waddell (canes), julien brisebois (lightning), joe sakic (avs), and kelly mccrimmon/george mcphee (golden knights) (god i still hate that name and also will explain this later too) are the best in the league in my opinion. honorable mention to marc bergevin, who has held onto his job much longer than he arguably should have, but still has a decent team on the ice and a decent coaching staff, although the french rule does severely handicap them (i understand why it exists but it does, it just does). 

david poile (preds) is the longest tenured gm in the league (has been the preds gm since fucking 1997, thats insane, thats legit before i was born, what the fuck), and i do genuinely think he is very good at his job, and that he is very hockey smart, but oh boy have his recent decisions been suspect as hell, and that reflects in the state of his team. doug wilson (sharks), who is the second longest tenured gm in the nhl, is in the exact same boat (the karlsson deal is a nightmare, and also did he just forget that his star core was gonna get old and retire or ??).

with dubas, waddell, brisebois, sakic, and mccrimmon/mcphee all have the same basic strengths: they draft well, they have a fundamental understanding of their team structure and how to manage public perception of the team and everything that implies, and they have two fingers on the pulse of their locker room at all times. im not going to pretend to know as much about sakic and mccrimmon/mcphee as i do the eastern gms, but it doesnt take much to figure it out. look at the avs, and their locker room, the success theyve found after being dead fucking last in the league. look at the knights and their incredible success that theyve found after literally not existing before 2017. ive talked about dubas a lot on my blog, but its incredibly easy to see that waddell and brisebois do the same shit he does, and i can do a deep dive on them if asked. bergevin has moments of brilliance, like the suzuki trade and acquiring caufield and anderson, but things like kotkaniemi’s development and their entire blue line give me a massive pause, which is why he’s not in the main list. he’s a good gm. he’s just not the best.

in regards to steve yzerman: you have to understand that this is the man that built the tampa bay lightning as we know them. this man was gm of the bolts until fucking 2018. tampa bay has been a monster in the eastern conference for years, BECAUSE of the work steve yzerman put in. his team set the franchise record for wins, and he was the first and is the only lightning gm to have won gm of the year. look up the 17-18 roster. it is, essentially, the roster that won them the cup last year. make no mistake, i think brisebois is great, and hes on the list for a reason, but the biggest part of brisebois’ success was steve yzerman’s incredible hockey mind. brisebois essentially had to sell off a fourth of his roster, and the lightning are still a top team in their division and in the league, and thats why he’s there (it is so incredibly easy to fuck shit up post cup win), but the brisebois lightning would not exist without steve yzerman, plain and simple.

what steve yzerman is doing in detroit should be watched very, very closely by every single person in the hockey world. youre fucking nuts if youre not paying attention to them, not gonna lie. the mantha trade was excellent, if really sad if you know even a bit about the wings, but the amount of draft picks steve yzerman has amassed and the way he’s using the prospects and players he already has is really fucking admirable. mike babcock left the red wings organization absolutely in tatters, and i think, honestly, it was always steve yzerman’s plan to go home to detroit and rebuild. if there is anyone who is going to strike absolute gold this draft year, it is steve yzerman. watch the red wings, i am telling you, keep a beat on detroit. they are going to be good. its not an if, its a when.

(real quick on the knights situation: mcphee was the first gm of the knights, and was also president of hockey ops at the same time, and then in 2019 mcphee said he was just gonna focus on his job as president, but we all know hes still an integral part of the way the knights are run, and he and mccrimmon have kinda been building the knight together since the beginning anyway bc mccrimmon was originally mcphee’s agm. so. thats why theyre together)

as for coaches, it’s very simple. rod brind’amour (canes), sheldon keefe (leafs, yes im biased, we’ll get into it), jared bednar (avs), joel quenneville (panthers), jon cooper (lightning), barry trotz (isles), and mike sullivan (pens).

(disclaimer: obviously coaching is done as a team, and assistants and specialist coaches and staff are all very important, but the head coaches set the tone and organize the entire machine, if you will, so im going to be talking about head coaches as if theyre the entire coaching staff. its just easier this way im sorry)

im gonna just start with the easy ones: barry trotz, mike sullivan, and jon cooper have been in the league for years. cooper is the longest tenured coach in the nhl for a reason (again, just look at the tampa bay lightning. its the gm’s job to make the coach’s life easier and the coach’s job to make the gm’s life easier, and this is one of the prime examples of it in the league. its dope as hell tbh), trotz is one of the most respected coaches in the hockey world for a reason (the caps lost something when he walked. they just did. and now the isles are absolute hell to play against and that is largely the coaching of barry trotz, you legit cannot tell me im wrong), and while mike sullivan does have his faults, i think hes found a way to please both management and the crosby-and-malkin unit, which has been really really fucking hard to do. he also led the pens to back to back cups, which you can never really uh. ignore. lmao. so theres those three.

i know less about bednar, but again, another example of the coach and gm working together to make each others’ lives easier. sakic gets bednar the players and staff he needs to make the avs better, and bednar takes those players and staff and makes them into the absolute giant they are. it wouldve been really, really easy to fuck up makar’s development, or bowen byram’s, or sam girard’s, or ryan graves’s, or jost or mackinnon or rantanen’s, but he hasn’t, and he hasn’t just given up on players like burakovsky or kadri, he’s given them new life as players and made them more successful.

joel quenneville is the reason the bl/ckh/wks were a legacy team point blank period. sure they had the talent, sure the gm drafted well, but you do not get the legacy of the chicago bl/ckh/wks without joel quenneville. they fired him on a whim and it absolutely was a mistake, and the moment the cats hired him i literally out loud said ‘oh no’ because i knew exactly what that meant for the leafs and their position in the standings. the panthers are underrated generally, yes, but they would not be the powerhouse they are this season without quenneville. just look at q’s wiki stats. he’s absolutely unbeilevable. he won the jack adams in fucking 2000, before he’d even won any of the cups with the h/wks. i cant tell you what kind of a locker room coach this guy is, but i can tell you his teams win and win convincingly, and that firing him was the biggest mistake the h/wks have made in years.

whenever i talk about coaching, i talk about rod brindamour and sheldon keefe in the same breath every single time because there is no match, and i mean none, for the love inside those locker rooms. the avs, maybe, but my point stands. keefe and brindamour fucking BLEED team spirit, it is at the center of their coaching styles and their teams are good because of it specifically. marner and matthews are good, yes, and they always have been, but they have surpassed all expectation and then some with keefe. aho, teravainen, and svechnikov are good, yes, and they always have been, but they have surpassed all expectation with brindamour. brindamour and keefe have both hashtag played the game, so they Get It, and more than that, theyve grown and changed their understanding of the game as the game itself has changed, and so they can command the authority of their teams while also connecting to them on a really deep level. i should make a note here that keefe and brindamour are incredibly, deeply hockey smart, and that they are also just technically good coaches, skimming their wiki or nhl dot com articles will tell you that, but what makes them stand out to me is that their players would fucking die for them. the leafs would go through the end boards for keefe, the canes would do the same for brindamour. travis dermott said it best when keefe got promoted: boys wanna play for him. beyond that, the management skills both brindamour and keefe have are just frankly amazing (the amount of ego keefe specifically has to manage in the leafs locker room is astounding and he does it so incredibly brilliantly). the leafs and the canes are talented, yes, and would have been talented regardless of who was coaching them. but brindamour and keefe bring both of those teams from talented to exceptional, and the true mark of an amazing coach is not only how many games their team wins, but how they win them, and the leafs and canes have been winning games this year for and because of each other, and that starts with their coaches. what makes a great coach, to me, is not the talent on the team (though that certainly helps), but how the coach manages his players no matter who they are, and how he helps those players grow not just as players as people, because no matter how much pure stats people and twitter hockey dudebros wanna deny it, that shit does affect on ice play, and it does make good players better.

so theres my analysis of the best coaches and gms of the nhl, im so sorry this is so long, oh my god. also, shoutout to @bishops--knifetrick for sending me an ask about this literally a month ago that i just never answered, sorry for that, but here i hope this is good. :)

[chimmyrockbison]

MASTERLIST Updated 03/20/2021

COMPLETED AO3 FICS [Kim Taehyung/Park Jimin]

1. The Sound of Your Heart

Summary: There was something so easy about it, it was almost scary. Taehyung didn’t want to feel this way, didn’t want to feel this overwhelming fondness; but not unlike his head, his heart was hard to persuade once it had decided a path. And Taehyung was scared that it had decided on the mute new boy with pretty features and a warm smile.

Words: 144,014

2. All the King's Men

Summary: Castle servants Jimin and Taehyung find themselves involved in a game with the Crown Prince.

Words: 52,531

3. golden haze

Summary: Taehyung watches Jimin’s mouth twist into a pout, forming the word ‘fucking’ with his thick lips before he’s whipping out his translation device again. Taehyung doesn’t have time to stop him when various pornographic images pop up on his holographic screen, Jimin’s eyes widening with intrigue, his mouth falling open at the suggestive images in front of him.

(or: lonely college student taehyung harbors an alien fugitive in his apartment. nothing goes as planned.)

Words: 34,850

4. Drag'on Together (Love Is Its Own Magic)

Summary: “I swear to God, Taehyung if you stop to pick up one more rock because you think it might be some sort of rare stone, I’m leaving you here,” Jimin huffs as he tries to sound intimidating.

“Jiminnie, we both know you wouldn’t survive a minute without me, so stop with the empty threats, okay?” Taehyung replies, happily ignoring his dark-haired friend.

Jimin would argue, he would, if it wasn’t for the fact that Taehyung was right.

or

The time Taehyung and Jimin finds a blue rock and it turns out to be so much more.

Words: 30,554

5. even the weariest river

Summary: It's moments like this that make Taehyung panic. The open derision on each courtier's face, the scorn of his brother as he turns from his prey. The slit of Park Jimin's eyes, just barely open and dark and hateful, as Taehyung swallows and squares his shoulders and says—

"I want to claim him."

The tides of war change, and sweep Taehyung and Jimin along with them.

Words: 152,979

6. i fell in love with the pizza delivery guy (and then i blew him in the bathroom)

Summary: Send your best delivery guy. Preferably cute, preferably packing.

“You're the one who ordered me,” Taehyung says. Not exactly a question; more of a statement.

“Well, I ordered pizza; you just happen to be a delightful bonus,” Jimin clarifies, lips drawn up in a smirk that sets Taehuyung’s blood on fire in a most delectable way. “Although, had I known a pretty face like yours was working there...maybe I would have been more specific with my instructions. At least I know for next time.”

(or, Jimin orders pizza and a little something extra, and Taehyung delivers without really knowing what he's signing up for)

Words: 18,438

7. Grand Jeté

Summary: Refusing to spend another night alone, Taehyung surprises his perfectionist of a boyfriend Jimin at his dance studio with the intent of dragging him home. But their pent-up emotions from spending time apart has the visit ending with a lot of kissing and a little experimenting.

Words: 8,200

8. Already Midnight

Summary: On New Year's Eve, Taehyung is drunk. So drunk that he doesn't recognize Jimin as his boyfriend. When Jimin kisses him at midnight, Taehyung threatens to call his man- aka Jimin.

Words: 3,951

9. Worth The Risk

Summary: The rules are simple: no kissing on the lips, no petnames, no cuddling after sex, no sleepovers, no labels, and no catching feelings.

It should be simple. In fact, it would be simple, if it weren’t for one tiny thing...Taehyung is pretty sure he’s in love with Jimin. And that’s absolutely against the rules.

Words: 23,645

10. Common Ground

Summary: Taehyung is rich, a little bit bratty, a lot a bit spoiled, and failing calculus. Jimin works full time, tutors, and is a straight-A student. There's a rulebook somewhere that states very clearly that people like Jimin should never associate with people like Taehyung. But rules are meant to be broken. And opposites always, always attract.

Words: 44,136

11. This is not a dream

Summary: He would think they were ships in the night if not for the fact that every night, Jimin lays his head in Taehyung’s lap and Taehyung runs fingers without nerve endings through his hair. If they didn't have this false, teasing closeness long enough to learn every detail of each other's lives, long enough that Jimin is the person Taehyung spends the most time with by a mile.

(Jimin leaves. Two months later, he falls in love with Taehyung.)

Words: 12,370

12. Shooting Stars and Silver Moons

Summary: Yoongi and Jimin make a bet, Taehyung makes bad decisions.

(Or: "I'm kind of pissed you didn't choose me to fake date, I'm your best friend")

Words: 20,206

13. the whole world is blue

Summary: Taehyung is not going to confess. That kind of thing never ends well. The movies are wrong. It doesn't always turn out to be mutual. Real life isn't so romantic like that.

Words: 10,829

14. Swipe Right

Summary: As a best friend, Jimin will do anything for Taehyung. This includes being his fake boyfriend to ward off the unwanted attention Taehyung is receiving after using a dating app and agreeing to meet someone.

Words: 26,085

15. Define Me in Terms of You

Summary: This is either Taehyung's greatest idea, or his worst.

“So, let me get this straight. You want me to teach you how to play guitar, join a fake band and enter a competition just so that you can impress a guy you like?"

Words: 9,808

16. i just adore you asking for more

Summary: Taehyung is a successful model looking for a discreet release. Jimin is a professional dom who won’t judge his browsing history.

Words: 90,201

17. Sirius

Summary: "Dude, our entire relationship could be an Ed Sheeran album."

Words: 16,955

18. it's your heart i wanna live (& sleep) in

Summary: The first time Jimin sleeps over at Taehyung's, it's an emergency. The other times after? That's a different story.

Words: 22,658

19. kissing up on fences (and up on walls, i don't want to fall)

Summary: They’ve always been close, Taehyung and Jimin. Where one went, it would be rare to see them without the other. This is a fact Namjoon knows better than most, having coexisted with them in close quarters for such a long time.

Namjoon had not, however, for all his proclaimed wisdom and prudence, had the foresight to see that they’d become this close.

(or: the five times the other members thought they were dating, and the one time jimin starts to wonder if they really are)

Words: 8,738

20. The Usual

Summary: Alternatively titled: The Regular

Jimin will date anyone, except for boys who serve coffee.

Words: 27,935

21. i'm so sorry but it's fake love (tbh, not really)

Summary: when chaebol/commitment anti-fan park jimin learns he's being married off, he does the smartest thing in the world: hire a fake boyfriend he found on the internet (aka Craigslist's personal ads)

all he needs is just three months with said fake boyfriend to convince his parents to leave him alone. after that, he'll get back to his regular programming.

except, not really.

Words: 209,565

22. Gravity//Oxygen

Summary: He already lost his parents.

He'll be damned if he loses Jimin's smile too.

We stay together.

Always.

Taehyung is out for revenge. And he'll do anything to get it.

Words: 180,321

23. A Screenshot of Youth

Summary: There’s a sharp intake of breath, Taehyung’s grip tightening over Jimin’s with a gentle squeeze. “Jimin,” his voice is serious, and Jimin watches him, strangely endeared. “Let’s be friends.”

And it’s like this, that they begin as friends in the heat of a sweltering summer, twelve years old and too young to think much of it, hands twined together under the blanket of a setting sun.

(In which Jimin and Taehyung grow up together.)

Words: 18,496

24. i'll take the desert, you take the coast

Summary: “Everyone I know is a candlestick nearing its demise. They’re afraid of bringing meaning into their lives, of cultivating that glow. But you, prince Park Jimin, you are different. You glow with the passion of more than a thousand suns.”

Words: 30,973

25. just to get a taste

Summary: The one where Jeongguk dares Jimin and Taehyung to kiss and it unravels a lot of feelings. But mostly more kisses.

Or the one where Jimin's heart is stupid and Jimin's best friend is actually irresistible. Who'd've thunk, huh?

Words: 24,375

26. tell them it's the end

Summary: Five months after Taehyung suddenly walked out on him, Jimin finds out that Taehyung has yet to inform his family, who absolutely loved Jimin, about their split.

Jimin tries to swallow his feelings as he once again “dates” Taehyung.

Words: 13,802

27. stay with you

Summary: Taehyung wondered why he always see this blonde man, getting wasted every night. Its such a shame seeing his pretty face wasting every single night of his life in this bar.

Until he saw his eyes, and he understood why.

(Or Jimin is broken and he wanted his happiness back.)

Words: 12,875

28. ring the changes

Summary: That's the nature of one-sided confessions. Things change.

Words: 45,248

29. summer, winter, spring (i'm falling for you)

Summary: The school starts to take notice of Jimin.

Taehyung has always noticed.

Words: 41,786

30. Make Me-al

Summary: In which Jimin starts to work at Jin's restaurant and there he meets Taehyung, the new rookie waiter that kinda gets him off his nerves (the feeling is mutual). Yet, the tension between them is hotter than the ovens from the kitchen...

Words: 26,886

31. such stuff as dreams are made on

Summary: "sir no one, may i have this dance?"

or: kim taehyung, a kitchen boy, sneaks into a royal masquerade. park jimin is the prince he never expected.

Words: 38,753