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smoochkooks · 5 years

Text

—the (un)holy cock-up (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst

⟶ word count: 14.5k

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, profanity, unnecessary amount of biblical puns, some critic on catholic church, this is a heavy read be aware

⟶ summary: there is a quite long list of circumstances, with student loan and rent on the very top of it, that led you to work in the sunday’s spirit editorial department, a newspaper overally known among fellow catholic community of busan, with park jimin as your boss.

when your small cock-up goes unnoticeably out of your hand, you find yourself in a situation painted in all shades of wrong.

or, alternatively: when it’s forbidden, it tastes bittersweet.

a/n: please, before you read this: take the warnings seriously. this is not a light read, it touches some heavy and quite controversial topics. tit also involves a scene where a person in charge exhibits inappropriate behavior towards their subordinate which I do not condone, however it’s all done with consent.

ps. im really proud of this work so give me some love please:(

Fingertips typing furiously on the keyboards, sights focused on the computers’ screens, brows furrowed, minds utterly concentrated and all of this accompanied by angelic voices of various religious songs playing in the background.

This is how a typical day at Sunday’s Spirit editorial department goes by.

The newspaper is a local source of information for the catholic community not only in the city of Busan, but in the whole country. Its history starts in 70s, when Park Min-Sung with his wife started publishing the very first version of the Sunday’s Spirit, selling copies in front of churches. Young activists definitely hadn’t anticipated such a big success, especially due to hard times of the military dictatorship in Korea, but two decades later they have become one of the most affluent families in Busan. The newspaper remains the Park’s legacy till these days, being owned by Min-Sung’s son, with the original founder’s grandson Jimin as an editor-in-chief.

Sometimes you ponder how did you end up in this kind of situation. Sitting at your desk with eyes glued to the screen, working for the catholic newspaper with Mary did you know and other holy songs playing from the Spotify’s Blessed Hits playlist.

First of all, you aren’t quite a Jesus stan yourself. Not a regular churchgoer, Bible reader or a person who lives according to God’s will with Ten Commandments written on your heart and soul.

Someone may wonder, what a young, aspiring journalist like you is doing here? Yes, that’s right.

Money is the reason.

The perspectives of wealthy life as a presenter in the national television or a host in the radio were just a mirage, because after receiving your master degree in journalism you realised that, unfortunately, a bright future was bright only in your unreal dreams.

The case was simple. You needed money. Your bank account was literally screaming at you to get your shit together and figure something out before you end up under the bridge. So you started searching for a job, looking over various offers on the Internet for two weeks straight. A waitress? Nah, too clumsy for that. Jewelry seller? Definitely not, since you are a happy owner of a few pairs of earrings from etsy-like online shop that certainly have nothing to do with real gold. You were almost convinced you’re destined to be a sexworker but then you stumbled upon an offer from the Sunday’s Spirit.

It was your chance. A God himself decided to take pity on you.

In that exact moment the genre of the newspaper wasn’t important. The vision of bankruptcy was enough for you to wear knee-length black skirt, white button-up shirt and a pair of high heels you’ve never worn before and go on a job interview with plastered smile on your face, looking delightful like you have just given birth to Jesus Christ in Bethlehem.

All the Hollywood actresses could be put into shame after your Oscar-winning performance you acted out on the interview in front of middle-aged woman in checked jacket that no one wears since 90s. Your enthusiasm and assurance you live good, catholic woman’s life, along with your master degree and motivational letter (you added a quote from The Letter to Philipians at the end of it to spice it up) was enough to be accepted for the position of Ask and you shall find column creator.

The job itself wasn’t complex or tough. The newspaper on its online site has a page where people can create an account and send asks to the author of the column who responds to them. You did something wrong and you aren’t sure it should be considered a sin? Having problems with regular praying on mornings and evenings? Write to us and we will solemnly help you with the God’s blessing, it says.

This is basically how it works. Each week, the said journalist chooses the most interesting questions and answers to make an article to the Sunday’s Spirit’s next publication. Of course, you can’t answer those questions the way you would like. You must do it according to the catholic laws and God’s plan (the True God’s plan, not Drake’s). A woman who interviewed you even gave you a notebook full of already made-up responses and a list of things you definetely mustn’t write if you still want to be employed.

To be completely frank, you don’t hate your job that much. You actually feel kind of nice, helping other people with their problems. You’ve been doing this for six months now and during this period of time you got used to some things.

A ‘Jesus, I trust you’ framed picture you swore your mother gave you on your 16th birthday standing on your desk. Holy beats blasting through the speakers until you leave the office at 5pm. A big-ass cross hanging right in front of the entrance to the editorial. Lee Chin-sun, the Weekly News column author, rushing to Park Jimin’s bureau every day at different hours in her pencil skirts and high heels knocking on the floor.

There’s only the Pentecost in the middle of the office that could actually surprise you.

“Looks like our Mary Magdalene is going to Jesus cave again,” mutters Kim Taehyung, the newspaper’s main photographer, friend from your desk and, actually, the only friend you have here. Very much gay and just like you, in desperate need for money. “It’s her third visit today. I wonder what it is this time. New prayer to Pope Francis she found?” he whispers and you chuckle at that quietly, looking around if anyone pays attention to your conversation, but everyone seems busy doing their own stuff. “Maybe she’s sucking his dick right now and we all think they are playing Who said it? Bible edition,” he adds in a hushed tone.

You start thinking about it for a while. Is that really possible for someone like Park Jimin, the editor-in-chief of the Sunday’s Spirit to have a sexual relationship with his coworker? The man who has a smaller version of Pietà in his office?

“I mean look at him. I would smash that ass too.”

You roll your eyes at Taehyung words, going back to your previous task but every time you try to concentrate, the face of your boss appears in front of your eyes uncontrollably.

Truth to be told, Park Jimin was a sight.

Blond hair, always perfectly styled and simply parted in the middle, revealing his forehead. Dark, sharp eyes that seem to pierce right through your soul and full, plump lips which could only be described as kissable.

He wears only high fashion brands, wandering through the office in Prada and Tom Ford suits that hugs his sculpted body just right. You think that as for a person who never misses Sunday’s mass, Park Jimin has also nice thighs. And a fine piece of ass, as Taehyung would describe it.

Newest Rolex that costs probably more than you will ever earn in your entire life on his wrist, Mercedes who just got brought out to the international market standing on his parking spot in front of the building, an apartment in the most luxurious area in Busan.

Park Jimin inhales God’s mercy and exhales money.

You spoke to him more explicitly only once, on your first day at work. He greeted you and wished good luck, saying that everything will be fine because you know, God’s good. Since that day, Park Jimin seems out of your reach. You contact him only through email, sending articles for him to check and approve, occasionally receiving some short message from him to improve this and that. He rarely leaves his office during working hours but when he does, it’s either for business meetings outside the editorial or for a lunch at nearby restaurant.

There’s also one, special occasion, every Friday, that’s a sacred time for all the employees. The clock hits 12am and so it begins. The angelic voices stop singing and everybody shifts on their sits.

“Oh, Holy Judas. I almost forgot about my favourite part of the week,” Taehyung sighs, standing up from his desk. And by that, he means-

“Friday’s Bible contemplation lunch break, everyone please gather up at the cafeteria.” Park Jimin’s sweet as honey voice says through the speakers.

You stand up from your chair with reluctance. Taking food with you, you go to the cafeteria, following Taehyung.

That’s actually the next thing you got used to while working at Sunday’s Spirit. Bible contemplation meetings are, as you found out from Taehyung, Jimin’s idea after he became an editor-in-chief almost one year ago. Every Friday all the workers sit together, eat their lunches and listen to Jimin as he reads a certain chapter from the book with true admiration written on their faces. After that, he usually asks some questions holding a discussion among the participants who, unlike you, happily takes part in.

The cafeteria looks rather normal, like any other lunchrooms you see in offices. Painted in bright yellow colors, with a few tables and a typical kitchen set in the back. Except for one thing.

A replica of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper hanging on the wall.

You decided a long time ago that you don’t want to know how much money it cost Jimin to have something like that here.

The newspaper’s workers, almost like the twelve Apostles, sit together by the tables. Lee Chin-sun at the very front, looking completely mesmerized by today’s Park Jimin’s appearance. He’s wearing navy blue suit that Taehyung swears it’s from Hugo Boss. The place next to Chin-sun is always occupied by tall, black-haired guy named Choi Eunwoo, main graphic designer, hopelessly in love with her since his first days at work. Behind them there’s a group from emendation department, with their leader Min Yoongi and other journalists. You always sit with Taehyung at the back, near the kitchen, not necessarily paying attention to what’s happening in the front.

Jimin, as on every Friday, walks to the small podium, designed to look like a pulpit in the church and opens the Bible. But one thing is odd: Jimin ain’t no priest or altar boy himself and he certainly dosen’t look like one, flipping through the pages of what you think it’s New Testament this time.

From your point of view, you could practically see how Chin-sun sighs with content expression on her face, lacing her fingers together on the lap and straightening her back. Eunwoo, on the other hand, shifts uncomfortably on his seat, sending Chin-sun quick glances full of unspoken longing she never acknowledges, to his dismay.

Then, Park Jimin clears his throat and the whole cafeteria goes quiet.

Truth to be told, you never really listen to what he’s reading. This time is no different. You just chew on your avocado sandwich, occasionally taking a sip of coffee. Your boss’ smooth voice reaches your ears faintly but you don’t pay attention to it, focusing on eating and Taehyung’s hushed rumbling instead.

“Look at our Mary Magdalene, she looks like she might burst a nut just by listening to CEO Jesus,” he says, making you peek at the girl.

Mary Magdalene is a nickname that Taehyung made up for Chin-sun when he started working at Sunday’s Spirit, mainly because of her attitude and relationship with Jimin. It’s rather platonic, at least for now. She looks at him with pure admiration on her face and she literally melts everytime he smiles at her. But Chin-sun’s ‘stalking’ isn’t unreasonable. Her father is a well-known philanthropist in Busan. He donates catholic charities, churches and, what’s the most interesting – he has some connections with Jimin’s father, the owner of Sunday’s Spirit.

And here’s the thing: Chin-sun’s hare and hounds definitely have some hidden reason. Maybe the whole marriage thing that has become a gossip in the office is true. Which makes poor Eunwoo’s situation even worse.

“Sometimes I wonder why has he fallen in love with her in first place,” you whisper, pointing at the graphic designer. “He knows he stands no chance against Jimin.”

“What can I say, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Taehyung muses almost poetically, shrugging his shoulders.

You hum at that, placing your coffee cup on the table and looking around the cafeteria. It seems like Jimin has ended his reading session for today and now he invites everyone to join the discussion about the topic. He flashes Chin-sun a gentle smile and you could swear the girl is biting her lip.

On the corner of your eye you see Taehyung smirking.

“What?” you ask.

Taehyung takes a sip of his coffee lazily (it’s always caramel macchiato), peering at Jimin. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if our boss really wants to settle not only with Chin-sun, but anyone in general,” he says languidly.

You furrow your brows. “What makes you think that? I mean, look at him. He probably waits with sex till marriage.” you snort.

Taehyung chuckles at your words. “Ah, sweetheart, you really know nothing about Park Jimin.”

“What do you mean?”

He moves closer to you, leaning towards your ear. “What I mean,” he whispers, “is that Park Jimin isn’t such a prude everyone thinks he is. At least he didn’t use to be.”

You raise your eyebrows at him with disbelief. “What? He’s secretly gay?” you mock.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I wish, but no, he isn’t,” he answers with a sigh. “Do you know Min Yoongi from emendation team?” he then asks, pointing at grey-haired man with feline eyes sitting behind Chin-sun.

You nodd your head. Min Yoongi is a hard to read guy. Always suspiciously silent, practically never leaves his office. Something makes you wonder how did Taehyung end up befriending him enough to casually gossip about the boss. You will ask him about this on another occasion.

“So here’s the thing,” Taehyung begins, lowering the volume of his voice. “He used to study at the same university in Seoul with Jimin. They even had been together in the fraternity. Yoongi-hyung told me some juicy details about our boss’ life back then.”

You frown at his words. “And you are telling me this now?!” you hiss.

“I found out literally two days ago!” Taehyung exclaims, maybe a little too loud, so you quickly place your index finger on your lips, shushing him.

“Fine. Continue.” you whisper, looking around to see if anyone pays attention to you.

“Well, Park Jimin used to be a trouble back then. A golden boy of his family in Busan, but a campus fuckboy and obnoxious heartbreaker in Seoul. He smoked cigarettes, drank enormous amounts of alcohol, got wasted on every weekend, missed classes and changed hair colors as often as his girlfriends. By the way, don’t you think he would slay pink hair?”

“Taehyung can you please–”

“Okay, okay. Enough thirsting over Jimesus. So, as you can see, there was no place for Sunday’s mass and Bible contemplation meetings in his life. And here’s the awaited plotwist. His parents somehow found out his son wasn’t living good catholic life on his studies and got extremely pissed off. They simply gave him an ultimatum: if he doesn’t stop his shenanigans, they will cut him off their money and they won’t make him Sunday’s Spirit heir.” Taehyung stops his rumbling for a while, letting you proceed all the bewildering informations about your dear boss he has just revealed.

Your eyes simply widen at the revelations.

Park Jimin, the man who organises Bible contemplation lunch breaks, a regular churchgoer, someone who you always thought has a cross tattooed on his back, was a playboy who slept with a half of the female community in the university?

Interesting.

“Rest of the story is simple. He changed his behavior, got a master degree in journalism and came back to Busan to work here. What is funny, his first position was the same as yours now,” Taehyung ends his story with a light chuckle. “Now you understand why it’s hard for me to believe he really thinks about getting married and having at least three kids.”

You look up at Park Jimin, who’s standing now in the centre of the cafeteria, with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding at one of the journalists words. His gaze is so intense and filled with such an authority that makes you understand why Chin-sun literally squirms when he looks at her that way.

It’s not hard for you to imagine him in much different surroundings.

Him, standing with a cup of beer in his hand in the middle of the crowd of drunken people at some frat party. There’s a leather jacket on his shoulders and he’s wearing tight-fitting pants that hugs his gorgeous thighs much better than his usual slacks he puts on every day before he sets off to work. He scans the room with a mishevious smirk dancing on his features, biting and licking his lips as he looks for his prey for tonight.

He then spots her, his pick for the night. He runs his fingers through his silky locks and approaches the girl, whispering dirty promises to her ear as he sways their bodies to the rhythm of loud music blasting through the speakers. Later that night he has her underneath him, begging him to touch her. He fucks her hard, leaving bruises all over her limp, exhausted body. There will be soreness between her thighs in the morning and a few violet love bites on her neck, a gentle reminder that all of this wasn’t just a dream.

But there’s no warm body next to her she could wake up to, no ‘good morning, baby’ or a second round of love making between the sheets. Because Park Jimin isn’t like that. He waited until her breath slowed down and eyelids fluttered shut, drifting her off to sleep. He left in the middle of the night, a cigarette caught between his swollen from kisses lips. He fumed the poison and smiled to himself, wondering what his parents would think when they found out. A golden boy of his family, future heir of the Park’s legacy, coming back from one of his sexcapeds with girl which name he didn’t even remember.

The Lord himself must have already cursed him and he’s currently planning the punishments for him in depths of Hell. But does Park Jimin look like he really care?

You stare blankly ahead, imagining those scenes in your head. You can’t help but squeeze your thighs because God, yes, Park Jimin is hot, even if he reads Breviary before he goes to sleep. What a shame he has changed.

A smooth like honey voice pulls you out from your airy-fairy slumber.

“Miss Y/N?”

You jolt in panic after hearing your name, glancing around and praying that wasn’t the person you think it was. But this silky, melodious voice you would recognize everywhere.

God hates you though, he knows what kind of scandalous things you were daydreaming about and now it’s his time to punish you.

Looking up, your gaze settles on no one other than Park Jimin, who stares at you with his left eyebrow raised, pursing his lips. He extinguishes the aura of pure dominance around him and you involuntarily blush, squirming under his intense glare. You’re royally screwed.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down rapidly beating heart. Without success.

“Yes, sir?” you manage to answer innocently. Certainly not like you weren’t thinking about being fucked by him minutes ago. You don’t even have time to be surprised he remembers your name.

Park Jimin looks unamazed by your sweet tone; he almost seems bored, but definitely irritated. “I asked you a question and I’m waiting for your response.” he says lowly.

Fuckfuckfuck. God have mercy on you. What was the question? Shit, you don’t even know what fragment he had read before.

In act of complete desperation you elbow Taehyung for help but this little shit pretends he has no idea what’s going on, looking at The Last Supper with sudden interest.

You are purely, loyally, utterly fucked.

You adopt the most charming smile you could muster, knowing that it will have zero affect on Park Jimin and ask, “Could you repeat the question one more time, sir? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you correctly.” Jesus, when has your voice become so high-pitched?

A cruel smirks forms on Park Jimin’s lips. He shakes his head, tsking. Taehyung mutters something under his breath that sounds dangerously close to “It was nice meeting you, sweetheart.” You gulp, waiting for your sentence and hoping Pontius Pilate will be gracious to you.

“My, my,” Jimin muses. It makes you feel like a little girl being scolded by the teacher due to her outrageous behavior. You bite your lip so hard you might draw blood, waiting for your boss’ next words. “Of course you didn’t hear my question, because you weren’t paying attention to our discussion.”

In the corner of your eye you see Chin-sun shaking her head with detestation. What a bitch, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath then, nails digging crescent moons on the skin of your palms. You don’t like being in the spotlight, you never did, but now you have no choice but face the consequences. “My deepest apologies, sir. The behavior I exhibited was highly inappropriate,” you say, bowing your head. Jimin eyes your figure from head to toe and you might actually feel his burning gaze on your skin. Your cheeks flush in crimson even more.

The editor-in-chief seems to deliberate with himself for a while, turning his head slightly to the side, not breaking the eye contact with you. Finally, after a moment that seems to last an hour, he speaks.

“I think you need a lesson that will teach you to pay attention to our weekly discussions, miss Y/N. That’s why I want you to write a 4000 words long paper about the role of Mary Magdalene in Jesus Christ’s life which we had discussed today but you, unfortunately, didn’t acknowledge it.”

You freeze. Like a scene in the movie, everything stops. The embarassement you felt earlier is quickly replaced by pure anger and irritation. He wants you to write a fucking paper? What is this? University lectures?

Never before in your entire life have you felt so humiliated. All eyes are on you; you could practically sense how they are trying not to laugh out loud. Eunwoo and Taehyung look at you with apologetic faces while Chin-sun smirks, whispering something to Jimin’s ear.

“I apologize once again, sir,” you grit through your teeth with a forced smile. Jimin nods then, not even bothering to look at you again. You’re dismissed, that’s what his behavior is saying.

“Our meeting is over, you can go back to your work.” Jimin announces and walks away from the cafeteria with Chin-sun by his side.

You wait for everyone to leave and the you let out a groan of annoyance, burring your head in your hands.

“Hey, it could have been worse. He didn’t fire you after all.” Taehyung laughs but he quickly shuts up as soon as he sees your glare. You stand up from your chair with a scowl written all over your face, and storm out of the lunchroom.

And may the God help you.

Later that unfortunate day, you sit by your desk again, scrolling through the Ask and you shall find page absentmindedly and waiting for the new asks to come. Everyone has returned to their work like nothing has happened but it doesn’t stop you from feeling all those eyes constantly on your back. Maybe you weren’t fired but the humiliation and embarrassment of being told off by your boss publicly makes you want to disappear and never show up at the editorial again.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at him and find the man smiling at you lightly. He’s wearing a long, camel coat and a big scarf around his neck with ridiculous patterns that reminds you of Persian diwans. He places his black camera bag on the desk, which means he’s leaving the office. “I’m free of office work for today so I just wanted to say goodbye.” he explains and you just nod.

“Bye, Taehyung. See you on Monday.” you say maybe a little bit to wryly and he feels that, letting out a long sigh.

Taehyung seems to deliberate with himself for a moment before he decides to speak again. He clears his throat audibly. “And I, uhm, I’m sorry. It’s my fault that you are in this situation. I started this conversation and I should be the one writing this stupid paper for Mister Prude.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the new nickname Taehyung gave Jimin. The anger you felt before drifts away from you slowly, and you smile at your friend apologetically. “Oh, God, Tae. I’m such a bitch sometimes, sorry,” you blurt out.”I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him. Besides, maybe that’s good I’ve got homework. I don’t remember when was the last time I wrote some-”

Your words are interrupted by a loud laugh that resonates through the office. You look in the direction of the voice just to see Chin-sun with her manicured hand on Jimin’s chest, throwing her head back from the laughter, too dramatically for your taste. She seems to have changed her clothes, a black pencil skirt long forgotten and replaced by a red, bodycon dress. Her dark hair is also styled differently, curled and loose. She looks beautiful, matching Jimin’s appearance perfectly.

“Where are they going?” Taehyung whispers to you, furrowing his brows. You shrug your shoulders, tearing your eyes of Chin-sun and Jimin. “Maybe our Mary Magdalene’s plan to win Jesus’ heart is working. Poor Eunwoo,” he sighs, looking at his watch to check the time. “Anyway, I gotta go. I have to drive all the way to some shithole near the city to take photos of an old lady who swears she saw saint Francis or other dude with halo speaking to her,” he grumbles and you giggle at his words. “Good luck with your paper, sweetheart.” he leans and places a small peck on your cheek.

“Bye, Tae.” you say, watching him leave the office right after Jimin and Chin-sun.

You let out a long, tired sigh, counting the time to leave the office and finally be back home, with a bottle of red wine and new season of Game of Thrones that are waiting for you to watch the whole week. Then, when you’re about to stand up and make yourself another coffee, a new ask pops up in your inbox with the title ‘Sex S.O.S’.

You raise your eyebrows because honestly, what kind of title is this? Curiosity wins the battle with a hot cup of an americano and you click the show more button. You put on your prescription glasses and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyfriend. And here’s where the actual problem begins. I’m from the catholic family with long traditions, and as you can guess, he isn’t.

We’ve been together for almost 2 years now and since my parents don’t want me to live with him before the marriage, there’s also no sexual life between us. I was actually surprised they agreed I can date a non-religious person in first place, so the rules weren’t that horrible at the beginning.

My boyfriend always seemed to be understanding about the fact that I’m catholic and he has never had issues against it because I stated this on the start of our relationship, but lately… he’s been distant. We meet up less often and I feel like simple kissing after 2 years isn’t enough for him. I even thought about initiating something that wouldn’t necessarily involve the real intercourse but I’m too inexperienced and shy for that. We are slowly drifting apart.

I don’t know what to do. I love him so much and I don’t want to lose him just because of some stupid rules I need to follow. I’m scared he will leave me for some other beautiful girl who wouldn’t have anything against sleeping with him, especially after considering the fact that he isn’t virgin unlike me and he experienced this kind of pleasure before.

I hope you will help me.

Yours faithfully,

Kang Seoyeon.

You blink once, twice. Read the message again and then, something snaps in you.

To Hell with these stupid, old-fashioned rules straight from the Middle Ages. To Hell with celibacy till marriage, masturbation prohibition and living according to God’s will. To Hell with Park Jimin and his ridiculous moral code (and his Bible contemplation lunchbreaks).

Unofficial eleventh commandment: If a girl wants a dick, she deserves to have it.

And that’s exactly what your response to the girl is in a nutshell.

Your blood boils in your veins with anger as you’re typing furiously on the keyboard, not even bothering to check if your sudden outburst makes any sense.

Dear Seoyeon,

It’s Y/N here, the journalist who you wrote this message to.

I don’t know what kind of response are you expecting from me but honestly? If you think I’m going to recommend you some praying to Saint Rita then you’re wrong. I’m done with this shit.

Let me make this straight: if you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy.

They are plenty of worse things in this world than having sex with the person you love. Look at me. I’m literally writing to catholic newspaper while using words like ‘God’ and ‘Fuck’ in the same sentence. And that’s not even a small piece of what I’ve done in my life.

So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this. You have my blessings and Jesus is giving you metaphysical thumbs up from above. Sex is amazing thing and you don’t have to wait for it until you say ‘yes’ in front of some guy in black cassock. Just go with the flow.

May the God help you!

Love, Y/N.

P.S. Watch out that guy. He seems suspicious. If he’s been really sex deprived for two years he will die after you give him a head.

Sent.

You exhale loudly, staring at the screen. You did that. Six months into working in Sunday’s Spirit and the time when you lost your temper has finally come. You should probably feel ashamed or have some type of conscience pangs but actually you aren’t even near this state.

Grinning to yourself, you delete the message you had sent to the girl from your inbox and check the time. It’s almost 5pm and it looks like you haven’t even realised you’re the only person at the office right now. Since it’s Friday and Jimin has already left, seems like everyone has decided to set off earlier too.

You turn off your computer, packing your things to the bag. Wrapping a scarf around your neck tightly, you leave the building, welcoming the coolness of the early Spring evening in Busan.

When you’re about to cross the street, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your coat. You stop for a moment, smiling to yourself when you read the message.

[04:23pm] from Tae: hey

[04:23pm] from Tae: i know you are probably planning an evening with mary magdalene n jesus but

[04:23pm] from Tae: wouldnt u want to go for drinks with me tonight?

[04:23pm] from Tae: same place as usual

[04:24pm] from Tae: as a wise man once said: nothing helps better for the writer’s block than vodka

[04:24pm] from Tae: so what do u say?

You don’t need to think twice when you quickly type a response. Game of Thrones and wine can wait till another time.

[04:26pm] from me: how could i say no to kim taehyung and vodka?

[04:26pm] from me: see u there

Kim’s is a place like no one other in Busan.

You wouldn’t even know about its existence if it wasn’t Taehyung who took you there first when you started working at Sunday’s Spirit, solemnly promising free drinks. Who would you be if you didn’t agree to that?

When you arrived at the bar, it eventually turned out the alcohol was costless hence it’s his family business since over thirty years and his brother Namjoon is a bartender, not because Taehyung willingly decided to pay for you.

Kim’s is located in rather industrial part of the city, sandwiched between factories and huge housing estates, not looking really inviting at first glance, but the place has its own, unique charm. There are some stories, shrouding the building’s history in mystery. Some people say it used to be headquarters of the most dangerous mafia in Busan, some even believe it served as the secret arsenal during the Korean War.

But what’s definitely true, it’s the fact that Taehyung’s parents bought this place in swinging times of 80s for a small amount of money and turned the place into disco bar which had become a must-go spot for young people in Busan.

Kim’s on the outside, with its large red neon sign hanging above the entrance, looks more like a night club than a bar, but on the inside the magic of kitschy 80s still remains the same (Taehyung swears retro is in fashion these days and that’s why he didn’t let his parents redecorate when they wanted to).

You always feel like you’re traveling back in time when you visist Kim’s.

The place is quite big, with a large dancefloor in the middle and red leather sofas strewn around the place along with the tables. Walls are made of brick and colorful, vibrant neon lights are shimmering on them. Oh, not to mention the huge disco ball on the ceiling. Everything accompanied with the quality music provided by Namjoon.

There are few billiard and foosball tables in the corner of the bar, always occupied by the same group of middle-aged men on weekdays and university students on weekends. But the thing that attract attention of the customers the most, is the bar with Namjoon behind it.

When you enter the place, you spot Taehyung and his blond mop of hair immediately. He sits on one of the bar stools, talking to his older brother. He’s wearing beige pants and floral button-up shirt that seems to match colors with his pinkish-looking drink he holds. You notice a new pair of sapphire earrings and a huge ring from the same collection on his forefinger. Classy, as always.

Taehyung grins broadly when he sees you. He puts his drink on the counter and stands up to greet you. His breath smells like strawberries and vodka when he leans to place his usual, small peck on your cheek. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says with his signature smirk plastered on his face, scanning your figure. “You look gorgeous. Last time you did this kind of make-up you wanted to get laid.”

You rolls your eyes at his words, sitting on a stool next to him. “Hi, Taehyung. Thank you for appreciating my efforts to look like a decent human being but no, I’m not planning on getting laid tonight.” you answer, waving to Namjoon who makes drinks for a group of girls a few meters from you. He smiles bashfully at you, showing his dimples.

“I’m not saying you want a fuck, calm down. I just assumed since it’s not everyday that you put eyeliner on,” Taehyung explains himself. “So let me do that again,” He takes a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest in a dramatic manner. “Y/N, you look absolutely breathtaking. I could stare at you for hours and I wouldn’t mind that even a bit. My homosexuality is at risk right now.”

You ignore his exeggarated outburst, rolling your eyes. “I’m not using eyeliner everyday because there’s something called dresscode in our work, you know?” you say. “Besides, my mum says you should look good on every occasion because you don’t know when you will meet the love of your life.”

Taehyung puts a hand on his heart and sighs with relief. “Thank God I always look good.”

You chuckle and then your eyes wander for a moment to Namjoon, who seems busy listening to whatever the pink-haired girl is telling him with polite smile on his face.

“Here,” Taehyung nudges your side, bringing your attention back to him. He hands you the same pinkish drink as he was drinking when you arrived. “Hyung told me it’s their new specialty or something. It’s called Flamingo’s Beach,” he says and you take the glass in your hand. “I have no idea what Namjoonie-hyung put here but as long as it looks good, it’s good. Cheers!” Taehyung sips his one and watches you with raised eyebrows as you’re taking a generous gulp of the drink. “And…?” he asks.

You lick your lips, humming to yourself. “Not bad. Tastes like strawberries.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to say something but he gets interrupted by his brother. “Y/N, hi. How are you?” Namjoon approaches you with two beer mugs in his hands.

His hair is back to his natural brown color now, purple strands long forgotten since the last time you saw him. It looks like he’s been working out lately, his posture more bulky and it makes his black shirt stick to his body tightly. Namjoon’s good-looking, you always knew that, but he seems to be even more handsome now.

“Hey, I’ve been good, thank you,” you greet him with maybe too much enthusiasm for your liking. You always had a weak spot for him. “How’s the bar going?” you ask.

“Busy, as you can see,” he replies, chuckling to himself. “I would love to talk to you more but I have some work to do in back room, so…” Namjoon trails off sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

“Oh, it’s okay. We can catch up another time.” You smile at him and you could swear his cheeks flushed.

“I’ll be going. See you.” Namjoon stammers out, not even waiting for your response before he disappears from your sight.

The pregnant silence sets in between you and Taehyung, something heavy hangs in the air and you feel it, tapping your fingers on the counter to the rhythm of one of the ABBA songs, waiting impatiently.

Taehyung looks like he’s debating with himself in his head. You narrow your eyes. He’s adopted a face you know pretty well, too well even. He looks everywhere but keep avoiding your gaze. He wants to ask you something, you’re sure of it, but he doesn’t know how.

Finally, after a moment of awkward quietness, Taehyung finally opens his mouth. “So, here’s the thing,” he starts and you wait for the bomb to drop.

Last time when he approached you like that, he asked you if you would be down for a threesome with him and some guy he met on Tinder. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you heard his blunt proposition. You were eating lunch at cafeteria and the words casually slipped from between his lips as he chewed on his egg sandwich, like he didn’t just propose you having sex with him and instead asked for a lift to home after work.

Taehyung begged you for a whole week, pleading and convincing it’ll be fun. When you eventually agreed (sex draught make people do stupid things), the other guy didn’t show up. You ended up drinking tequila shots with Taehyung that night in his apartment, and you can’t quite recall how it happened, but somehow you found yourself unzipping your friend’s pants and the rest is history. He passed out right after he came. Now when you think about it, you feel a sudden urge to ask him if he remembers that.

You will do it next time, you promise yourself.

Taehyung though doesn’t ask you about having a threesome or robbing Park Jimin’s house this time. His intentions are pretty much different.

“See, Namjoon split up with his girlfriend few weeks ago,” he says and you prick your ears. “He’s not in good condition right now, as you can see. It was a nasty break up, he found out she’s been cheating on him,” He lets out a long sigh. You bite your lip, imagining Namjoon’s disappointed face when he discovered the truth. What a bitch cheats on someone like him? “So, I thought maybe you could… cheer him up a little bit?” Taehyung ends hesitantly, with a glint of hope in his eyes.

You frown. Cheer him up? Did he just imply what you think about?

“Look, I get it, he’s sad and angry, but what the fuck, Taehyung? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be his rebound? Make him forget?” you exclaim. Taehyung quickly shakes his head but you don’t let him say anything. “I feel sorry for Namjoon but I’m not going to take advantage of him when he’s literally still hurt.”

“No, it’s not like that!” Taehyung rushes to explain. “Well, maybe it sounded like that but I swear, I didn’t mean that!”

“Then what should I do? Wipe his tears? Tell him a joke? Or maybe-”

“Of course he wants you to suck his brother’s heartbroken dick, doll.”

A sudden, low voice interrupts your conversation. Your eyes follow the direction when it comes from, looking to Taehyung’s left where not even a meter away a very familiar grey-haired man with feline eyes sits.

“Min Yoongi,” you say matter-of-factly.

The leader of emendation team from Sunday’s Spirit editorial raises his hand in which he holds whiskey, greeting you and Taehyung. “Hello, doll. Hello, Taehyung,” he says, not even bothering to look at you.

You elbow Taehyung searching for explanation but he shrugs his shoulders, turning to face the man as well.

“First of all, since when do you call me ‘doll’? We have never spoken a word to each other. Secondly, how long have you been sitting here and listening?” you ask Yoongi.

He snorts, smirking. “Long enough to know how Taehyung comforts his brother after break up.” he simply answers and Taehyung’s cheeks blush in crimson at his words.

“You come here often? I’ve never seen you here before,” you continue, crossing your arms over chest.

Next to you Taehyung lets out a sigh. “Yes, he does. Albeit I haven’t seen him for a while here,” You look at him in confusion. “Yoongi-hyung is Namjoonie-hyung close friend from university days.” he clarifies.

You raise your eyebrows at that. “So Namjoon went to the same school as Park Jimin?”

“Not the same. We met under different circumstances.” Yoongi cuts in.

“They’ve been together in underground rap group, or some shit. Didn’t like each other at first but eventually stuck together till the end of studies.” Taehyung ends and grey-haired man nods.

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“What’s funny in that?” Yoongi scowls.

“Nothing. I just imagined you and Namjoon in snapbacks, rapping about the unfairness of social hierarchy,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, you may believe me or not, but we even made a mixtape.” Yoongi reveals proudly, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Your eyes widen in curiosity. “Then what happened? Why aren’t you in Seoul now, still producing music? Why do you work in this stupid newspaper and Namjoon’s a bartender?” you ask interrogatively.

“Life happened, doll. We didn’t have enough money to publish our works so we decided to quit it.”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

You could see the nostalgia written across Yoongi’s face. You feel sorry for him, for Namjoon. Everything is always about the money. That’s why you’re working in Sunday’s Spirit even though it was never your dream in first place. Even though you have much higher ambitions than being Ask and you shall find column author.

Ever since you were little, you loved writing. You never complained, not even once, when your teachers in school assigned you to write something. They kept saying you have an extraordinary talent and it would be a shame if you didn’t do anything with that.

During your high school years, you were the leader of school newspaper’s team, still writing your own works every time you didn’t have something different to do. After that, you got to the university in Seoul, your another dream came true. You got a master degree, an apprenticeship in the Korean version of highly popular, world-widely known magazine. And then, nothing. No job applications available. No newspapers or publishing companies wanting you, dismissing you right away because they didn’t have any vacant places.

This is how Sunday’s Spirit, even if that’s not your dream job, happened. And quite literally saved your ass.

“I’m sorry.” you say after a while.

Yoongi smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be. What’s in past, stays in past.” he ends the conversation, drinking the rest of his whiskey.

You find this as a perfect possibility to do what you’ve come here for: get wasted, forget about this prick Park Jimin and his stupid assignment. You turn around on your stool to face the bar again, calling for the red-haired bartender named Hoseok who’s substituting Namjoon right now. You order a round of tequilla shots and quickly pours two of them in one go.

“Easy, tiger,” Taehyung teases, still sipping his pink drink as you wipe your chin with the back of your hand. Taehyung has stated a long time ago that he enjoys only casual drinking, which makes you and you lightweightness snort at him.

“Loser,” you mumble under your breath, deep down knowing you’re oh so much going to regret this after.

You focus your attention on the dancefloor now; technicolor lights glittering as the crowd of sweaty people bounce to old Madonna hits. You feel like your spirit might actually experience new kind of awakening during the chorus in Like a Virgin. You mouth the lyrics, the vodka already half-way to your bopping head. Your drunken self almost asks Taehyung and Yoongi if they would agree to be your backup dancers.

You eyes scan the room carefully and then, you spot him. He’s sitting in the corner, his arms splayed over the backrest of the red couch. A devil himself. A black horseman of the Apocalypse. A man who looks like every girl’s next mistake. Taylor Swift’s ‘we are never ever getting back together’.

A true sin.

Jet-black hair parted in the middle, onyx eyes and lucious smirk written across his lips as he bites them purposefully. He’s wearing a leather jacket and you wonder for a while if you would find inked tattoos on his body. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes glued to the same spot as he waits for something, or rather someone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, not even hiding your curiosity at this point.

Taehyung turns around as well, his eyes glancing to the dark-haired man briefly. “Ah, this, sweetheart, is Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin’s best friend.” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You raise your eyebrows, watching as Jungkook’s face expression immediately changes when waitress approaches him. He says something to her that makes her roll her eyes. She tightens her grip around the tray she’s holding, asking him for his order.

“Don’t worry. You are not the only one thirsting over him. I would let him top me too,” Taehyung whispers to your ear and you flinch.

“I’m not thirsting over him! I came her for drinks, not to get laid, I told you.”

“Okay, okay, loosen up a little. Tequilla makes you aggressive. Besides, it looks like he’s got his pick for tonight.”

Jungkook stretches out his hand and fixes the waitress’ glasses that seem to rode down her nose a little. The girl frozes in place because of his action and he grins, calling her cute.

“He’s trying to ask her out for two months,” Yoongi interrupts suddenly, again. It looks like he has nothing better to do tonight. “I’m serious. He’s here every Friday. Normally, he would have given up after the second time she had rejected him but there’s might be something in this girl that makes his dick hard and his heart soft.”

Jungkook’s eyes girl’s body as she bends to pick up the glasses from other tables and maybe that’s the alcohol swimming in your veins but you could swear his face lights up when she sends him another irritated glare when he calls her name.

“Does Park Jimin comes here often as well?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

Both Taehyung and Yoongi shake their heads.

“I don’t think so. Jeon comes here because he lives nearby in this huge ass apartment complex. His father runs a chemical factory and he works there.” Taehyung explains.

Jeon? Chemical factory? Something clicks in your brain. Right, you know who his father is. The King of Washing Powder. Another rich as fuck Busan’s snob.

“God, I hate him. I fucking hate him. What a prick. Douchebag. Asshole of the century,” The string of profanities leaves poor waitress’ mouth as she walks to the counter with tray in her hands. “How’s your day, love? You look beautiful today, love. Fucking leave me alone, love!” she mutters to herself, taking the beer mugs from Hoseok abruptly which makes the bartender raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“How’s your assignment about Mary Magdalene going on, doll?” Yoongi asks then, startling you.

You roll your eyes at him. “I literally got it today, Yoongi. I haven’t started yet.” you answer, gulping another shot.

On the corner of your eye you see Yoongi’s smirking. “I’m surprised, to be honest. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t pay attention to shit Jimin’s says,” he trails off. “I work for him from the moment he started this ridiculous Bible lunch breaks and I swear, he’s never called out someone like that before.”

“What do you mean he’s never called out someone before?” Taehyung joins in curiously.

“Look, I slept through the majority of these sessions and Jimin knows it, but he has never lecture me about it,” Yoongi remarks. “Maybe you’re an exception. Or he’s become more strict because of this bitch Chin-sun.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You know Chin-sun has been making heart eyes for Jimin for a long time but what why it might have an influence on his behavior?

“Lee Chin-sun? What the office’s Mary Magdalene has to do with that? Besides the fact that she’s drooling for his dick every time she sees him,” Taehyung snorts.

Yoongi chuckles lowly. “Oh, so you two really know nothing about what’s going on between them right now,”

“What’s going on right now? Spill.” Taehyung says abruptly. You sigh when you see the way his eyes flicker with mischeviousness. One thing Taehyung loves more than photography and fashion is gossiping (and dicks).

“First of all, Chin-sun is a fucking bigot. And well… she might be closer to being miss Park than we thought.” Yoongi muses.

Taehyung eyebrows practically disappear in his hairline. You’re sure you mirror his expression right now.

Yoongi asks Hoseok for another glass of whiskey and continues. “My friend Seokjin’s wife is Jimin’s personal assistant and secretary. She heard this and that, quite juicy things I must say,” he says in a lower tone, like he’s revealing government secrets to them. You lean closer into his direction along with Taehyung. “Chin-sun’s father recently bought the claims to the most popular, conservative TV station in whole South Korea. But, what is more interesting, it looks like Park senior has some shares in it as well.”

You’re astonished. You knew there’s something looming in the air but you didn’t expect this. A TV station? Even your slightly drunken brain can calculate it’s very interesting.

“So the marriage between Chin-sun and Jimin would be pretty convenient for their families, especially after considering the fact that Jimin is the heir.” Yoongi adds, gulping the first sip of his new whiskey.

“Poor Eunwoo,” you whisper to yourself.

“But why so soon? Why do they want to legalize their relationship so suddenly?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh. “There’s a rumour going around that Jimin’s father isn’t in good condition right now. Seokjin-hyung mentioned something about the heart disease. So, if that’s really true, you have the answer why he wants his eldest son to settle down already. Everything’s about the money, I told you.”

Taehyung whistles. “Woah, so Mary Magdalene is really about to be CEO Jesus’ wife soon!” he exclaims, clapping his hands. “Brilliant. Finally something spicy is happening in this boring editorial.”

“I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if I were you, Taehyung. This kind of business never ends well,” Yoongi says coldly, placing his glass on the counter and standing up from the stool. He glances at his watch and throws a few bills next to his empty glass. “I’ll get going. It was nice talking to you, doll.”

“What about me?”

“Shut up, Taehyung, you’re not pretty lady.”

“I feel offended.”

“And I don’t care,” Yoongi mutters. Maybe that was alcohol swimming in her veins but you saw Taehyung lifting the corners of his lips in amusement. Weird. “Good luck on your assignment, doll. See you all on Monday.” Yoongi glances to your way one last time, adjusting his jacket.

“Bye, Yoongi.” you wave to him and a small, even sincere smile appears on his face when he as well raises his hand lazily and leaves. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s actually nice, Tae? I was always too scared to start a conversation with him because I felt intimidated.” you say after a while.

“I’m sorry, should have I set you up for a date with him?” Taehyung mocks.

A groan escapes your lips. “Could you please stop insinuating things?”

“You need to get laid, seriously. Like soon-soon. You get easily irritated recently. You need a d i c k,”

“I don’t need a dick!”

“A cock, Y/N,” Taehyung emphasizes. “A penis in your precious vagina.”

“Shut up!”

Several shots and a few drunken dances to Cindi Lauper and Bon Jovi, you’re pretty much wasted. And maybe, just maybe, you need a dick. And Taehyung, like a dipshit he always is, thinks that’s actually funny.

“Don’t wanna homff,” you slur, supporting your weight on Taehyung’s arm that shakes with laughter at your drunken antics, as well as his whole body. “I wanna danfce witfh somebodyyy,”

“Holy Mother of Jesus, you must be really drunk if you started referring to Whitney Houston’s songs. And you smell like booze,” Taehyung mutters under his breath and you whine, tugging on his arm.

“TaeTae, Taehyungie, pffleasee, can we go back?”

Taehyung ignores your grumbling completely. He exists the bar, walking (or rather dragging) you to the cab. As he tries to push your body to the car, he sees in the corner of his eye Jeon Jungkook, standing in front of his black SUV. The waitress from earlier accompanies him as well. It looks like he’s trying to convince her to let him give her a lift to home. The girl shakes her head at first but eventually gives up, stepping into the car. Jungkook grins to himself then, clenching his fists in gesture of pure triumph.

“I fuckin’ hate Park Jimin and his stfupid newspaper,” you mutter incoherently as you bury your head in the crook of Taehyung’s neck in the back of the cab. Old, korean songs are playing in the radio when you’re driving back home. Taehyung smiles to himself, hearing your light snores. But then, he falters.

Ah, yes, he almost forgot. It is going to be a long way to the third floor of your apartment building.

Next day, you wake up in the middle of noon with raging headache and an abrupt need to throw everything up. Frankly speaking, you had worse hangovers during you university days but it doesn’t change the fact that the state you’re currently in still sucks.

“Oh, good God, what have I thought?” you mutter to yourself while standing in the shower, letting the water cool you down.

Truth to be told, a drinking escapade when you have a whole ass paper to write in two days wasn’t the smartest idea you could come up with. You know that for sure, when you’re sitting down in front of your laptop with prescription glasses on your face and a cup of tea in your hand.

There’s a blank document opened on the screen, with only your name written in the corner and the title in the middle. You feel pathetic and useless, staring at it for 30 minutes straight. If you keep sitting like this, you might actually call Park Jimin right now and beg him not to fire you due to your incompetence.

“Get your shit together, Y/N.” you say to yourself, clenching your fists.

At first you fought about making some mind-map, outlining the most important parts of your essay, as you always used to do when you were studying. But there’s a huge difference between what you’re working on right now and what you usually did during academic days. Above all, at that time you were writing about things you had more knowledge about, not about Mary Magdalene and her role in Jesus Christ’s life.

“Ah, fuck it.”

You open an online Bible page and quickly type ‘Mary Magdalene’ in browser. All fragments when she’s mentioned shows up in front of your eyes. You fix your glasses and before you could stop yourself, you whisper, “Let’s get it.”

You don’t know how much time has passed since you started reading, but when you glance a the clock it’s nearly 7pm.

You went through every single page in the Bible when Mary Magdalene appears or when for some reason her name comes up in conversations. You read two thesis in which you found quite interesting facts about the heroine of your work. Also, you watched some conspiracy theories on YouTube about her, in which people claim that she was actually Jesus’ wife. You were bewildered, even in your post-hangover state.

And after all of this researching, you have settled a plan. You’re a journalist for God’s sake, you’ve been writing your entire life and none assignment will break you. So you start typing on the keyboard, filling the blank document pages with words, hoping that Park Jimin will approve your efforts.

On Sunday, you look like a ghost.

You’re a mess, cured from hangover but still in bad shape, especially after spending the whole night writing in front of your laptop. There are bangs under your eyes and you hair looks like you could cosplay a scarecrow. Your eyes are sore from staring to the screen for so long and you feel like you might collapse anytime if you won’t drink coffee in five minutes.

In between writing next paragraphs, you answer a call from Taehyung.

“How’s your assignment going, sweetheart?”

You let out a long, exhausted sigh. “It’s fine, I guess.” you respond to him.

“That’s lovely! I knew you would slay this, babe,” you hear him saying.

“I’m not done yet, Tae. I still have like a half to write,” you mumble and then let out a yawn, closing your eyes for a brief second before you speak again. “I would love to talk to you more but I really need to get this shit done as soon as I can, so I could have some decent sleep before Monday. I don’t want to look like an old witch when I hand in the paper to Park Jimin.”

“I know, I know. You got this, sweetheart. I’m sure you will make Mister Prude’s dick hard because of this.” Taehyung assures you.

You crack a tired smile even though you know he doesn’t see you. “Thank you, Tae.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” he says and hangs up.

You take another gulp of your coffee and start writing again.

It’s a little past midnight when you’re, with your last amounts of force you posses, typing the last words of the paper. As you look at your laptop screen, eyelids half-closed, you dream about nothing but going to sleep.

You did that. You really did. You wrote this stupid paper for Park Jimin and you’re actually proud of it. You carefully save the document three times (to be hundred percent sure) and as soon as you close your laptop, you pass out.

Little did you know what is waiting for you in editorial in a few hours.

You stare at your reflection in small mirror you hold, thanking God that he has enlightened the person who discovered make-up. You won’t say you look stunning but, after five hours of sleep you had in last two days, you would risk it all and say you appear much more than decent looking. You’re wearing your new black jumpsuit that makes your legs look longer and you even used a different shade of lipstick, painting your lips in crimson red.

And all of this for nothing, because when you stormed into the Sunday’s Spirit editorial to give the paper straight to Park Jimin’s hands, his secretary with polite smile said he’s coming to work later today.

You pursued your lips and handed the woman your blood, sweat and tears (you’re actually sure a few tears rolled down from your face on the keyboard while you were writing it), wishing you saw your boss’ face when you place the printed pages on his expensive desk.

“I changed a little bit the topic of my work while I was outlining it,” you tell Taehyung as you both sit together by your desks later that day. “I focused more on a role of Mary Magdalene character in world ruled only by men. I showed how a powerful woman she was, standing at Jesus’s side even though the church for the centuries referred her to whore,” you explain.

“Wow,” Taehyung muses. “You turned Mary Magdalene into feminism icon fighting against patriarchy.”

“It’s not like that!” You hit him in the arm. “You may laugh as much as you want but I actually got into her story.”

Taehyung smirks. “Looks like being scolded by Park Jimin wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I got humiliated in the middle of fucking cafeteria. I still hate him. And also, I don’t know what he thinks about my essay.” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t worry. He’s probably having an epiphany right now while-”

A voice from the speakers that certainly doesn’t sound like gospel choir interrupts him.

“Miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.”

“-or he isn’t.” Taehyung ends.

Once again, you’re frozen in place. It’s okay, you tell yourself, maybe he just wants to talk about my essay. But what if he didn’t like it? What if your sudden feminism outburst about Mary Magdalene was too much?

“Holy fuck.” you blurt out quietly.

Taehyung gives you an encouraging smile but he doesn’t look much convinced in positive intentions of summoning you to their boss’ office, he just doesn’t say it aloud. “Well, maybe it won’t be that bad! Maybe he wants to congratulate you,” he tries to comfort you, without success. You look horribly pale and scared to death.

“I repeat: miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.” Jimin’s stone cold voice pierce through the silence again. You shiver. The journalists in the editorial send you impatient glares.

“Whatever happens, remember that I love you.” Taehyung whispers, squizzing your hand, which makes you even more nervous. He gives you thumbs-up and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your trembling body. A whole Sunday’s Spirit team follow your movements with their eyes.

You stands from your desk on wobbly legs and walk to the door with golden sign hanging on its surface.

Park Jimin

Editor-in-chief

You take the knob in your shaking palm and twist, stepping into the lion’s den.

The atmosphere seems to shift when you walk into the room. You could hear your heart rapidly beating through the dead silence that lingers in Park Jimin’s office. “You wanted to see me, sir?” you ask after closing the door, subconsciously cursing yourself for sounding so weak already.

“Yes, have a seat,” Jimin says. “Give me a second. I need to finish something.” he adds when you sit down, not even bothering to spare you a look.

Jimin sits behind his desk, eyes glued to the computer screen. His hair is pushed back from his forehead, his jaw clenched. Oh, great, he looks pissed, you think to yourself.

He isn’t wearing his suit jacket like usually, which surprises you. His white shirt’s sleeves are rolled up, revealing a glimpse of veiny hands and his Rolex. This is the first time you see him like this. He looks so… unlike him.

Strange.

You use the time you have to take in your surroundings. Jimin’s office is painted in fair tone of grey. The rumors were actually right, there’s a smaller version of Michelangelo’s Pietà standing proudly on of the drawers. Behind the desk, on the wall, hangs a wooden cross with gold-plated figurine of Jesus Christ, and just underneath it there’s a framed picture of Lady of Fatima, which he once proudly showed to the whole editorial team on one of the lunchbreaks, saying his grandmother brought him this from her pilgrimage.

You focus your attention now on the wall filled with numerous diplomas and certificates, all of them signed with Park Jimin’s name.

You had read some of his works before you started your job in Sunday’s Spirit and you must admit: Park Jimin is a talented, smart journalist you aspire to be one day. It’s actually sad, you think, that he can’t pursue his career, wasting his abilities by working in catholic newspaper owned by his father. And as you know from Yoongi, his situation isn’t going to change soon. Maybe he was right after all. Money really does rule this world.

After a few minutes that seems to last forever, Jimin breaks the silence. “Do you know why are you here?” he asks, finally averting his attention to you. He stares so deeply into your eyes that you feel you might faint from the intensity of his aura.

You clear your throat, and then respond. “I do believe it’s about my paper I handed in to you this morning.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow at that. “Your paper? No, everything’s fine about it. I read it and I must say, you did a great job,” he says and you furrow your eyebrows. So if nothing’s is wrong with your essay then what does he want?

“Then… why did you call me in, sir?” you hesitantly ponder.

Jimin laces his fingers together and leans closer over the desk. “Well,” he begins, “Maybe you forgot or you really didn’t know about it, but I used to run the same column as you do now,” You nod your head, recalling what Taehyung told you recently. Jimin continues, “I was actually the one who created it. That means I am still, for this day, its administrator. Which leads to another conclusion: every single ask that is send to our editorial and your responses to them can be monitored by me.” he explains, gauging your reaction. You still don’t have an idea why is he telling you that, so you just sit still and wait.

Then, Jimin reaches for the paper that lays on the left side of his desk and hands it to you. “Could you please tell me what is this?” he asks, pointing at the paper.

You glance at it briefly. “These are the questions I got last week and my responses to them.” you reply straightaway.

Park Jimin doesn’t seem much satisfied after hearing your words. He then takes another paper and gives it to you as well. “And this particular one, Y/N? Could you please read it and tell me what is this?”

Ignoring his forego of ‘miss’, you take it to your hands and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyf-

You gasp and immadietly put a palm over your mouth. Under Seoyeon’s ask there’s also, clear as day, your much inappropriate response to her. In which you persuade the girl to suck her boyfriend off.

Holy fuck. Jesus Christ. Shitshitshit!

Jimin said he monitors everything that people send to the editorial along with the responds. Of course he had to read it. Why have you been so dumb? How could you believe that simple deleting from your inbox would be enough? Why can’t you do something properly for once?

You gulp, trying not to cry because good God, he’s going to fire you. He will kick you out and write a bunch of negative letters to your future employees, in which he will explain in details how disobiedent, reckless of a worker you are.

“Did you also forget how to speak?” Jimin asks. You almost cry out right away from the coldness of his voice.

You muster up a courage and look at him, and that’s a huge mistake because as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re lost for words.”I-I don’t know what to say, sir,” you stammer out. “I have nothing for my defence. I can only apologize for my irresponsible and inappropriate behavior I exhibited.” you say, bowing your head down.

Jimin pursues his lips. He stands from his chair and walks to you, leaning his body on the desk. He takes the paper from you to his hands and starts reading. “If you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy,“ he quotes your response to the girl and your cheeks flush in red; you wish nothing more than to disappear and never see your boss again. But he’s relentless and continues reading, spilling the crude words, humiliating you even more. “So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this.“ Jimin chuckles to himself darkly and you shut your eyes. “Look at me when you are spoken to,” he demands. You quickly oblige, lifting your chin a little to meet his intense gaze. “Is that really how a good, catholic girl should act?” he asks in a mocking tone.

You shake your head. “No, it isn’t.”

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Do you think he really won’t leave her after this?” he asks out of the blue.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of twisted game is he playing now? “I don’t know, sir.” you answer honestly.

Jimin smirks. Devilishly, sultry and completely illegal. He then licks his lips and leans closer to you. You could swear his eyes are darken than before. Something has shifted in his demeanor; he looks daring. “Why don’t you show me then, how this poor girl should suck her boyfriend off, Y/N?” he whispers lowly.

Your eyes widen. Did he just-?

He didn’t. He can’t. Maybe you misheard him, maybe you started imagining things that aren’t real. Oh, sweet Lord, the look of absolute seriousness written on his face tells you very much different.

Park Jimin, your boss, the man who goes regularly on masses and reads Bible, wants you to give him a head. In his office.

May the God help you.

You should probably slap him in the face for his immoral proposition. You should save your dignity, leave and never come back again. But then, you clear your mind from all those twisted thoughts running through it and you realise that you’re walking on a very thin line. Line which is called unemployment and bankruptcy.

You think about your landlord who praised you recently for keeping up with rent every month regularly. You think about your student loans that you still need to pay.

And fuck, you hate Yoongi because he was damn right. Money wouldn’t buy you happiness, but it can provide you that.

That’s why you put away the humiliation, the what ifs. You shut your mind screaming at you and listing the future consequences. Maybe Jimin just tests you, but the way he looks at you denies it. He wants to see you on your knees in front of him. Perhaps he only wants to play before he fires you but you put that thought aside.

You at least need to try.

Jimin searches for any kind of protest in your eyes and when he doesn’t find it, he’s back to his domineering self. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, his voice an octave lower. “Get on your knees.”

He has a calm expression on his face and you wonder for a moment how many times has he been in similar situation before. Having a woman on his mercy and using her the way he likes. And now you know. All those stories you heard about, are actually true. Park Jimin isn’t a prude. He’s dirty.

You fall to the floor with a light whimper. Maybe it’s the last chance for you to leave, but the confidence that emanates from Jimin doesn’t falter your movements. You hate yourself for that but God, you want to see this man being a mess for your touch. Even if that’s fucked up.

And it’s wrong, so, so wrong, when there’s a cross hanging behind you, when he’s your boss who claims to be a good catholic, when you do that because you’re too afraid to lose your job. But in that moment, the morality doesn’t exist.

Jimin stands up to take his belt off, looking at you from the above as he slowly, purposefully pulls it from the belt loops. He doesn’t encourage you or say anything, he just waits. You gulp when he yanks his black slacks down, along with his underwear.

For a few, solid seconds, you just stare.

You aren’t a connoisseur of dicks. Dick is a dick, but Park Jimin’s length is just as perfect as the rest of him, semi-hard against his lower stomach. Your hands move to his sculpted thighs, running up and down, tracing the prominent lines of his toned abdomen. The muscles tense underneath your touch.

You don’t remember when was the last time you’ve gone down on someone. Maybe it was Taehyung few months ago when you were both too drunk to care? You can’t quite recall. Every move of yours is uncertain, but Jimin doesn’t mind. Maybe your uncertainty turns him on even more.

He watches as you take him in your palm hesitantly, hot and already stiff, stroking him several times until he hardens in your hand. The sight is purely erotic, filthy, and you lick your lips before placing a light kiss on his tip. Jimin hisses. That’s a warning. No teasing.

You pump him, trailing a thumb over his slit, spreading precum all over his cock. Jimin doesn’t say anything but from the shuddering breath he lets out you assume he likes it. You take a deep breath, wrapping your lips around his dick and swirling your tongue around the head.

Jimin groans, a guttural sound resonating through his whole body and you take it as a sign to continue. You ease more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down around his length obediently. Some twisted and fucked-up part of you wants him to praise you, call you good girl with your lips around his dick and throbbing core. He does none of that. His hands tangle in your hair as he withdraws, and you know exactly what’s coming next.

It’s an unspoken question on his lips and your jaw falls slacks on command.

A forceful push of his hips and he’s burried deep inside your mouth till he hits the back of your throat. Tears brim in your eyes and you gag, breathing heavily through your nose. It hurts a little, a dull ache but the content sigh and fucked-out expression on Jimin’s face is worth it. So you let him fuck your mouth the way he wants, let him pull your hair harder, wreck you a little more. It’s so easy to submit to him, to let him overwhelm you in every sense possible.

Your eyes fall shut and Jimin stops his movements, pulling from your mouth. Drool dribbles down your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand. Jimin lets out a shaky breath, staring down at you so intensely it makes your insides tighten, even if you don’t see him yet.

“Look at me,” he rasps and you do, how could you not. The sight of your boss’ flushed cheeks and sweat forming on his forehead will be imprinted in your mind forever.

You curse yourself for wanting him to fuck you senseless right against his deck, with a hand around your throat muffling your screams, fuck you so hard you won’t remember your name anymore, no matter how wrong it is.

“Good girl. You’re so pretty like this, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jimin nothing but purrs, filling you to the brim again, until there are tears forming in your eyes and running down your cheeks, until he hits the base of your throat again and again and you fight back choked gags every time. “Just like that, fuck-” he moans, lowly and beautifully, head thrown back and mouth parted.

He’s close, you could feel that, so you take him deep once again and when your throat tightens around him one last time, he lets out a gutural groan and comes. You swallow every drop of his bitter release and when he pulls out from your mouth, you nearly fall forward.

Jimin catches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, balancing your exhausted body. You look at him through your half-lidded eyes. He looks so young now, so innocent, his cold demeanor’s gone and replaced by pure bliss written on his face. For Park Jimin, cheeks rosy, disheveled hair and loosen tie, you would do it all over again.

He then does something unexpected. He reaches for your face, brushing your tangled hair away and placing the strands behind your ears. This is a loving gesture, something exclusive he definitely shouldn’t be doing. You’re frozen, you can’t move a muscle while he wipes your cheeks from the reminiscences of your tears. He trails his thumb over your swollen lips absentmindedly, faltering there. For a moment he looks like he might say something, but he quickly shuts his mouth, regaining his previous posture.

You take this as a sign to leave. You get up from the floor, your knees sore from the uncomfortable position you’ve been in. You walk to the mirror that hangs on the wall of Jimin’s office. You sigh, seeing your current state. There’s no way someone would believe you that you haven’t just sucked a dick.

Your cheeks are flushed in pink, there are smudges of mascara under your eyes and your lipstick is smeared in the corners of your mouth. Not to mention your hair is still a mess.

You are painted in all shades of wrong.

In the reflection of the mirror you see Jimin buckling up his belt and straightening his tie. He runs a hand through his blond locks and looks up, catching you staring at him. You quickly look away.

“Don’t worry. No one will notice anything. Everyone should be off for their lunchbreaks by now.” he says. He sounds so pathetically normal, yet there’s still a slight rasp in his voice.

You glance at the watch on your hand and check the time. It’s a little past 12. You brush your hair with your fingers quickly and proceed to leave, but you stop, remembering you have to ask about one last thing. You turn around to face him.

“Are you going to write a bad opinion about me to my future employees?” you ask, flinching at the hoarseness of your voice.

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Bad opinion? No, absolutely not,” he answers, shaking his head. “I was never going to fire you in first place.”

You fight back the shocked expression that threatens to appear on your face. You quickly rush to leave this damn office and never look in his eyes ever again. What were you even thinking?

“And Y/N,” Jimin’s voice makes you stop with your hand hovering over the door knob. Single tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp. “I’m sorry.” it’s all he says.

You don’t ask him what he meant by that. You don’t deliberate if he was sincere or not. You leave the office as soon as you can, running to the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning on it.

He wasn’t going to fire you. He just wanted to use you, demand to get down on your knees and please him the way he wants. It was all a game for him, and you became his plaything.

“I’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, burying your head in your hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

You feel sick, used, but at the same time you can’t get away with creeping feeling that you enjoyed it, wishing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him in that moment.

You sigh, closing your eyes. You’re probably foolish for thinking it won’t have any consequences. You’re just about to face them.

The coldness of early Spring hits you when you exit Sunday’s Spirit editorial. You hug your body tighter with your coat, standing in front of the building awkwardly. You take a few deep breaths, trying to clear your mind, but nothing really works. There’s a vacant space inside your body, like your soul has drifted away and left nothing but emptiness.

You feel hollow.

You don’t know how long have you been standing there, inhaling fresh air and waiting for your blood to start circulating properly in your veins again. When you’re about to head to the underground station, on the corner of your eye you see Jimin’s black Mercedes. You probably shouldn’t stare but you helplessly do.

Probably if you didn’t, it would hurt less.

He approaches the car, looking perfectly fine as always, which you couldn’t say about yourself. And he isn’t alone.

You recognize dark curls of Chins-sun’s hair, contrasting her beige coat beautifully. The corners of Jimin’s lips lift when he sees her. You don’t know if it’s a honest smile or a forced one. You wonder for a while how does he look like when he’s truly happy. Maybe he’s happy now, when Chin-sun is by his side.

What you are really sure about Park Jimin, is that he’s a man of many maybes.

Something which definitely doesn’t look forced are his palms, cupping the cheeks of Chin-sun’s flushed face. He starts tracing circles on her skin in intimate gesture and murmurs something. Maybe he asks her how was her day. Your lips still tingle where he trailed his thumb over it bitten, swollen surface. Maybe he still remembers how they felt around his cock when he was relentlessly bringing tears to your eyes and stabs to your heart.

The way he leans and kisses Chin-sun’s cherry colored lips is purposeful, perfectly measured. Maybe he sighs into her mouth with content, a beautiful sound you have witnessed with your own ears, as you were working him to his climax. Jimin’s hands grip Chin-sun’s dark locks but it isn’t the similar manner he did to you earlier, as he laced his fingers through the strands, when you wished him to do nothing more than pull harder and harder, until the pain in you scalp was replaced by dull ache, until a whimper fell from your lips and eyes squeezed shut. He kisses Chin-sun lovingly and there’s no roughness in that. It’s gentle caresses and soft murmurs.

After a moment he breaks off, soothing his palms over Chin-sun’s shoulders. She sends him a smile and opens the passenger’s door, getting into the car. And then, when you swallow a lump in your throat, when you decide to turn around and go, run as fast as you possibly can, when you dream about nothing more but never seeing him again, you catch eyes with him.

Jimin looks pathetically apologetic. There’s something in his dark brown orbs you can’t read. Maybe it’s guilt, maybe regret. Park Jimin is a man of many maybes, yet he stares at you with expression you could only mistaken for sadness.

You wonder if he sees the way your eyes stare at him blankly. You wonder if he knows how he nearly wrecked your body and made you feel things you shouldn’t. If he hurts the same way as you do now. However, Jimin quickly diverts his head away from you, closing the door to his car behind him as well. You laugh quietly at the ridiculousness of this situation. A bitter laugh that escapes your mouth and deepen the hollowness inside you.

A hand touches your arm and you don’t even flinch, knowing already who it is.

“So you know the news,” Taehyung says, looking at Jimin’s car leaving the parking lot. How long has he been standing behind you?

“What news?” you ask, turning your head to look at him.

“Chin-sun is really going to be miss Park officially,” he replies. “Jimin proposed to her this weekend. The wedding is in may. But that’s not important right now. How’s your conversation with him, sweetheart?”

You feel sick. You excuse yourself, mentioning something about needing to catch earlier train and texting him later. Taehyung calls after you but you don’t listen. You start running.

You run until you couldn’t breathe, until there’s a soreness in your throat from the coldness of air. You run until you reach your apartment, stumbling into it on wobbly legs. Your back touches the wall and you slide off, sitting on the floor.

You don’t cry. The tears don’t strain your eyes. It’s only this damned, dull hollowness.

There’s written in the Bible that a guilty person is the one who broke God’s law, who committed a sin. The said person will be judged by their actions after their death. Because every human being has a conscience, the thing that sets the line between good and bad, so when we did something wrong, we should feel remorse.

When you sit on the floor and stare blankly in front of yourself, you know you have sinned.You both did. You wonder if he, trailing patterns of tender touches on his fiancee’s skin, feels the same as you. You wonder if guilt eats him up as much as devours you. Maybe there’s hollow ache in his chest, just like in yours. Maybe he doesn’t feel anything.

And may the God help you both find your redemption.

1K notes · View notes

datheetjoella · 4 years

Text

Fantober 2020, Day 29: Soulmate

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 29/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 2,872 Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmate, Developing Relationship, Fluff, First Interaction, Mirror Link Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

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Green. For as long as he could remember, Haruka had dreamt of green. It was vibrant, ever-present, warm, and above all comforting. Like the essence of happiness was captured in one colour.

Outside of his dreams, Haruka had never encountered a green quite like it - at least, not that he recalled. Grass seemed dull in comparison, while neon signs screamed to call attention to them, but Haruka's green was a gentle shade, bright but still soft.

Haruka didn't know what it was supposed to represent, if it even had a meaning or if it was nothing more than an image his mind conjured up at night because it couldn't be bothered to create something else. But it wasn't unpleasant, far from it, so he hadn't questioned it beyond a fleeting thought here and there.

It was no different this morning; the last rays of green lingered before his eyelids when he woke up and left contentment in his heart. What was different this morning was the time displayed on his alarm clock, that either hadn't gone off or that he'd pressed in his sleep. Seven-fifteen, half an hour later than usual. There went his morning bath.

His good mood instantly vanished and he was almost certain a bad day would follow. With a sigh, Haruka pulled himself from his sheets and dragged his feet toward the bathroom.

The mirror above the sink reflected his sour expression, but he couldn't be bothered to unfurl his eyebrows. It wasn't like anyone else could see him right now and even if they could, he couldn't care less about his appearance or their possible opinion at that moment.

He grabbed the tube of toothpaste and his brush and pinched some onto the bristles, then he sighed again. Of course it squirted out too much, half of it spilling over and wasting away in the sink. Scrap that bad day and make it awful.

The thunder clouds were nearly visible above his head as he lazily brushed his teeth. Perhaps he should've just turned around and gone back to sleep, school be damned. Judging by how this day was going so far, he'd probably miss the train or get hit by a bus on the way there.

He spat out some of the excess toothpaste, but when he straightened his back, he wasn't met with his reflection. Instead, he saw a completely different bathroom, with a white wall instead of small blue tiles, and a completely different person; a person he didn't know.

It was a guy who he estimated to be around his age. His brown locks were styled in the most incredible bedhead Haruka had ever seen and his eyes were squeezed shut, a large hand covering up a yawn. When it passed, he lowered his arm and revealed his heart-shaped face with thick, upslanting eyebrows, a straight and slightly raised nose, full lips and pearly teeth.

Despite the visible fatigue wearing down his features, he was undeniably handsome. Very handsome. But when he opened his eyes and his pupils shrunk as they adjusted to the light inside the bathroom, Haruka's breath was stolen from his lungs. His irises were green. That shade of green Haruka had been yearning for since he was a child.

After eighteen years, Haruka finally saw his soulmate and he was relieved and touched and immensely confused.

Most people first met their soulmate when they were kids. As soon as they heard about the connection mirrors made between two people, a phenomenon scientists couldn't explain to this day, they'd spend days in front of the most reflective surface in their house in the hopes of catching a glimpse of their special someone. While Haruka hadn't been quite that eager, he'd be lying if he said that he didn't coincidentally pass by mirrors more often than before and lingered for longer than necessary.

Not once had he booked any success and after a while, he gave up. If his soulmate and he were destined to be together, they would see each other eventually. As the years went by, the lurch of his stomach whenever he stood in front of a mirror disappeared and the thought faded to the back of his mind, where it lived as a cricket that blended in with the rest of the white noise.

And now, when he overslept like he never did and was angry at the world for the tiniest little things going wrong, the day that had been written in the stars since his birth or perhaps long before that had arrived. It was almost funny. Almost.

Haruka was sure he hadn't seen him before, because there was no way he could ever forget a face as beautiful as this guy's. What did leave him baffled, though, was that he'd somehow been dreaming of his soulmate's eyes for years prior to their first meeting. That wasn't supposed to be part of the deal and he never heard of anyone who experienced it too, not from his friends or family members, not even in the most romantic movies or tv dramas. Had his soulmate been dreaming of his eye colour too, or was Haruka special for some unknown reason?

He didn't have much time to ponder it over. When his soulmate processed what he was seeing, his jaw dropped, then his mouth moved rapidly and he frantically waved his hands. What he was blabbering about, Haruka had no idea since mirrors were not equipped with microphones and speakers, but once he said his piece, he was gone.

Everything happened in a flash and before Haruka knew it, he was staring back at himself again. Like the image of his soulmate was nothing more than a hallucination.

Unsure of what to do now, Haruka quickly finished brushing his teeth and rinsed out his mouth. He wasn't sure if his soulmate was going to come back, but if he left now, then he might have to wait for eighteen more years to see him again.

Fortunately, his patience was rewarded. After a minute, the guy returned with a notebook in hand. He held it up and scribbled on the page in fine letters was, 'Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Makoto Tachibana. What is your name?'

The writing was in English and Haruka felt like an idiot once more. He hadn't even considered the possibility that his soulmate could be from another country. While his name was clearly Japanese and his appearance matched, that didn't have to mean he lived here and spoke the language fluently. Perhaps his ancestors moved overseas a century ago and he didn't speak two words Japanese. The possible time zone difference that came with it might've been the reason they hadn't met sooner. If that were the case, they were going to have a problem because foreign languages were not exactly Haruka's strongest suit. There was only one way to find out.

He held up his hand to tell his soulmate to wait while he went to fetch a notebook and a pen of his own. When he got them, he sped back to the bathroom, where his soulmate remained with a kind smile on his face. The drowsiness had vanished and instead, his eyes were twinkling, making Haruka's stomach flutter. Even without the mirror, Haruka would've instantly known this was his soulmate; never before had a single expression done so much to his insides.

'Haruka Nanase.' He wrote down and then he decided to cut to the chase immediately. He scratched at his chin as he pondered over the correct English spelling. 'Where are you from?'

'I am from Japan, and you?' Was his soulmate's response and his heart sighed in relief. At least he didn't have to worry about his English vocabulary anymore.

'Me too.'

His soulmate's face lit up even more - if that was even possible - and he excitedly scribbled more into his notebook. 'Oh, thank goodness! I was afraid you'd be from abroad and that I would have to write in English the whole time. My English is not so good.'

A tiny smile curled Haruka's lips. So far, that was one trait they had in common. But before he could write that, his soulmate put his pen against his paper again.

'I'm so glad I finally get to see you, Nanase-kun. I was starting to worry we might never meet. I've been looking forward to this moment for so long and I have so many things I want to ask you. Sorry if that's weird.' When writing in his native language, Makoto appeared to be very talkative. It was kind of cute.

'It's not weird. I've been wondering about you too.' Haruka held up his notebook, but then he lowered it again and added, 'and just Haru is fine. No need to be so polite.'

'Alright, Haru, you can call me Makoto, then. How old are you?'

'Eighteen.'

'Oh, you're older than me. I'm seventeen. I'm turning eighteen on November 17th.'

November 17th. Haruka hadn't given his soulmate's birthday much thought, but now it seemed odd he always passed such an important day by like it was nothing, while he was certainly going to celebrate it in the future.

'That's less than a month away. I should get you a present.'

Makoto wrote something, then scrapped it and wrote something else. What was left was, 'Thanks, but you don't have to. When's your birthday?' But crossed out between the lines, Haruka could make out 'meeting you is already the best present I could've wished for.'

Haruka felt his cheeks warm up and he averted his head. Although they met a mere handful of minutes ago, Makoto was already proving himself to be overwhelmingly sweet and kind. Not that Haruka expected anything less of his soulmate.

'June 30th.'

'Only a few months apart. I'm assuming you're in your third year of high school too, right?' Makoto wrote and Haruka nodded. 'Sorry if this is too personal, but do you mind telling me where you live?'

That question made Haruka frown. Makoto was his soulmate and they were supposed to live their lives by each other's side. In order to meet in person, knowing where the other was located was kind of a requirement. Maybe Makoto was a bit too considerate for his own good. 'I was born in Kyoto, but I currently live in Tokyo.'

Makoto's green eyes lit up in something Haruka could only describe as excitement. 'Really? I'm planning to go to a university in Tokyo in April! Meijou Chuo, have you heard of it?'

If Makoto was coming to Tokyo, that meant he didn't leave here yet, but that he would be within reach soon. That brought some peace to Haruka's heart; now he didn't have to jump through hoops to see him in real life. 'I have. What are you going to study?'

'Sports Education. I want to be a swim coach for children.'

This time, it was Haruka's turn to gasp. Did that mean Makoto was a swimmer too? It seemed almost too good to be true, but would someone who didn't love to swim really be his other half? 'Do you swim yourself?'

'I do. I specialise in backstroke. Does that mean you also swim?'

By the look of his broad shoulders, that wasn't difficult to believe. Haruka could only imagine what kind of muscles were concealed by his orange and yellow shirt.

'I only swim free.' Haruka noted down and before he knew it, he added, 'I was offered a swimming scholarship at Hidaka University. I'll be starting in April too.'

Makoto's mouth fell ajar. 'Wow, that's amazing, Haru! I'm so proud of you.'

If Haruka's face felt warm before, then it was scorching now. 'If you're going to a university in Tokyo, then where do you live now?'

'In Iwatobi, a small seaside town in Tottori. I was born and raised here. Have you heard of it before?'

The coincidences were stacking up so quickly it was almost scary. 'My grandma was born in Iwatobi. She lived there for years until she and my grandpa got together and moved to Kyoto.'

'Really? Who would've thought?' Makoto held up his notebook with a small chuckle. Haruka couldn't hear it, but he was convinced the sound was as lovely as his sunny smile was.

'She always made it sound like a beautiful place, so I've been meaning to go visit it sometime.'

'You definitely should, it truly is an amazing place. The view of the ocean is stunning and the mountains are perfect to hike or ride a bicycle through.' Once Makoto was certain Haruka had read it, he flipped the page and wrote something else. 'I've lived here for my whole life, so it's going to be hard to adjust to living in such a big city without my family around. Although I set my mind to it, I've never been all by myself before and I was scared I wouldn't be able to get around, so knowing you'll be there is a great comfort.'

Without conscious input of his brain, Haruka wrote, 'It is a bit scary at first, but you'll get used to it sooner or later. If you're not comfortable living by yourself, you're welcome to come live with me. My parents moved to Hokkaido for my father's work so I live by myself anyway.'

The second he raised his pen from the paper, he began to question his own sanity. He just met Makoto and didn't even know what his voice was like yet, let alone the rest of his life and how he was as a person. Soulmate or not, suggesting to move in together right off the bat was absolutely mental and there was no way Haruka was showing him this page.

To his relief and to his regret, Makoto suddenly wrote. 'I'm sorry, Haru, I have to go. My mom is calling me for breakfast and I still have to brush my teeth and get dressed. I'd love to chat with you more and ask everything I want to know, but if I don't hurry up I'll be late for school.'

The thought of having to part now they finally met after years stung, but even though their worlds stopped turning when their gazes locked, the outside world continued on like nothing had happened. 'It's okay. I have to get going too or else I'll miss my train.'

'Before you go, could I ask for your phone number and email? Then we can easily keep in touch without having to stand in front of a mirror all day.'

Haruka nodded again. 'Wait a second. I don't know them from the top of my head, so I have to get my phone.'

'No worries, I'll wait.'

Once Haruka had retrieved his phone from some side pocket of his bag, he sped back to the bathroom. He wrote the information out on the page and Makoto copied it into his own notebook.

'Thanks! I'll send you a message right away so you'll have my contact info too. Thank you for chatting with me, Haru. I couldn't have imagined a better soulmate.' Makoto tilted his head, eyes falling shut with a beaming grin.

Involuntarily, a smile graced Haruka's face as well. When met with such a joyous expression on such a handsome face, was it even possible not to smile as well? 'Me neither.'

After they scribbled some goodbyes, Haruka dashed out of the bathroom, promptly forgetting to even wash his face because his frantic heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest. He had to start cooking or else he would certainly miss his train, but Haruka couldn't look away from his phone's screen, waiting for that message to pop up. Until then, he wouldn't be able to get a bite down his throat.

A whopping two minutes later, his phone beeped at last.

'Hey Haru, this is Makoto. Here you have my contact info. Sorry if I'm being too forward, and if that is the case then you can tell me and I'll back off, but do you have time to talk some more later? I've been dying to meet you and like I said earlier, there are countless things I want to ask you. If not, that's alright. Please know that you're always welcome to call me or send me a message whenever you want. I'll try my best to respond as quickly as possible. I hope to hear back from you soon, but there's no rush. Have a nice day!'

Haruka stared at the screen, his stomach tingling with a wave of unfamiliar feelings. Now he was definitely going to be late for school.

Little did Haruka know back then that Makoto and he would see each other in person sooner than he had thought, that Makoto's dreams had been overrun by cobalt blue for as long as he could remember as well, and that their first interaction had not actually been their first meeting. But least of all, Haruka couldn't have foreseen that the mindless proposal he wrote on that October day in front of the mirror but hadn't held up to show Makoto would come true.

#i'm sorry i'm stupid #makoharu #makoharu fic #my fic #fantober2020 #colourful days with you

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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1115

survey by vintagekid

Name: Robyn.

Happy with it? I am now, but I certainly wasn’t as a kid. Other kids were cruel and would tease me solely for my name, which made it hard for me to socialize. I got the same bad Batman jokes too many times and I also got called a boy. These seem petty now, but as a kindergartener adjusting to life in school, it had been traumatizing and made me wonder if my classmates were going to remain the way they were for the long run which no 4-year-old should be mulling about, really.

Do you wear stilettos? When I get the chance, which isn’t very often at all. But I do love stilettos.

How important are looks to you? I find this question very vague, but generally looks matter to me to a certain extent, like how I’d want to look nice and proper for a job interview or for formal occasions such as weddings. Relationship-wise, I also think I have to feel a level of physical attraction towards someone for me to consider seeing them.

How often do you download music? I don’t anymore. I stream all my music.

Can you name a philosopher? Socrates.

What would you do if two unicorns tried to whisk you off to candy mountain? I just looked this up and this is apparently in reference to an ancient viral video, like it was around before viral videos were even a universally-acknowledged concept. That said, I don’t have a clue how to respond to this lmao.

You became the deciding vote in an election, which party would you go for? I don’t base my voting decisions on parties because the party system in my country is a tragically broken shitstorm in which every single party rallies the same values and principles, just executed in their own – and usually poor and unsustainable – ways. I do my research on each candidate, see how they answer in debates, look at laws they’ve authored, see which marginalized groups they proactively support (if they do), and decide from there.

Do you have a bzoink account? I don’t but I’ve been a semi-regular visitor since like 2009.

How many phone calls do you typically make in a day? Zero. People usually call me.

What song are you listening to? Tell Me It’s Okay by, surprise surprise, Paramore.

Do you understand things others your age do not? I don’t know. Maybe. Everyone’s bound to understand some things better than others.

Do you hate people that label themselves? Why would I hate that? And why would their chosen label be my business?

How many windows do you have open? None. There’s plenty of mosquitoes at night, so even though the cold evening air would been pleasant to have we have to keep the windows closed by nighttime.

How superstitious are you? Not at all.

If you were in Harry Potter, which house would you be in? I’ve been told either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.

Which comedian can always crack you up? It’s not a habit of mine to watch comedians.

Are you nagged about being on the computer too much? Not since I was a teenager. Since college I’ve been doing most of my work, if not all of it, through my laptop, and I think my parents understand that I have to use it all the time.

Do you feel bad about anything you've done lately? Nothing comes to mind, no.

What's your texting bill typically like? My SIM is prepaid, so it works the other way around. I put load credits in it only if I know I’ll have to call/text/surf regularly.

What song did you/do you want played at your wedding? Turning Page by Sleeping At Last.

Do you have a lot or hardly any lines on your palms? Idk, a decent amount I guess? I don’t think it hits either extreme.

What's your favourite word? Poignant.

Are you allowed to swear in front of your parents? Yeah. They’ll shoot me a glare sometimes, but I’m in my 20s and...they know they can’t really do anything about it anymore lol.

Do you eat apples? No.

What are your addictions? Coffee, I suppose.

What are some words you use in daily life? I use intensifiers often, like very, really, super, absolutely, etc. I’m also big on expressions hahaha like oh my god, seriously, for real, and ugh.

Do you look things up on Google constantly? Yes.

Where do you get your music from? Spotify. Sometimes YouTube if I wanna look for a leak.

What do you think of people with afros? That they are people with afros...? I don’t really know what you’re looking for me to say, lmfao.

survey by charey-chas

Do you like getting your picture taken? Not for the most part. My body instantly gets all frozen and awkward when a camera’s placed in front of me, which I hate because I do wish I could have more photos of myself around. Is your phone anywhere near you? It is not, actually. It feels great and I really should start making it a habit to keep it away from me entirely on weekends. Do you ever enjoy going to school? In my first school, I enjoyed going mainly (and probably only) for my friends; but Catholic school was predominantly a torturous experience. The rigidity isn’t something I look back fondly on, and it felt like being kept on a tight leash for 14 years. College was a lot more enjoyable in every way possible. I liked going to (most of) my classes and learning as much as I loved the vibrant org culture and the general freedom that comes with university life. Have you ever gone on a road trip? Lots. The Philippines is a relatively small country and unless you want to jump to a different island altogether, there are many provinces you can readily travel to by car. Who do you get along with best in your family? Nina, my sister. Then my dad. I clash a lot with my mom and I don’t talk to my brother. Based on your personality, what animal do you think you'd be? Cats and I don’t get along very well hahaha but I think I’m similar to them. Would you ever buy anything from an infomercial? Maybe once, just to be able to say that I have. Have you ever made a snow angel? No, because I’ve never seen snow before. Have you stayed in a hotel in the last month? No. We had a brief getaway in Tagaytay but we switched things up and went to rent a condo, instead of book a hotel room, for a weekend. What's your most comfortable outfit? If I want to go for comfortable, I usually go for my rompers or jumpsuits. Do you text or IM more? IM these days. Would you rather listen to music or play it? Listen. I have no music-playing skills whatsoever. Have you ever been in a hot tub? Sure. Do you like pizza? LOVE IT Are you sleeping in your own bed tonight? Yes. If not here, the couch. But most likely it will my bed tonight. Are any of your friends having a sleepover right now? I doubt it. Angela and Hans had an overnight stay in Batangas a few days ago for their Valentine’s shenanigans though, which I guess kinda counts as a sleepover. Have you ever been to a house party? I don’t think so. That’s something I missed out on in my college days, but I don’t mind. Do you listen to your iPod or the radio when you're in the car? I think I keep a good balance. If my phone’s battery is not very high I’ll rely on the radio; and sometimes I’ll sync my phone’s Spotify to the car as well.

survey by charey-chas

What song is stuck in your head at the moment? RAVI’s BUM. What's your fathers' middle name? He doesn’t have a second name, but I’m not sharing his legal middle name on here either. How many hours a day do you spend on the computer? On work days, I’d say 8-10 hours. On weekends, maybe a little slightly less than that since I do like getting off the laptop sometimes to rest my eyes. Could you live without the internet? People from the past managed to live without it, so I know I can. It would just be extremely inconvenient; and having been dependent on it for such a long time now, I would likely be clueless on how to navigate most activities. What's something you're really into? Learning about cultural differences!! That’s why reading survey answers has always been fascinating to me. I would love a website that dives into the various everyday behavior people observe in other countries, but the ones that do exist use like 20- or 30-year-old sources, so they aren’t even relevant at all anymore. What's the last movie you saw in theaters? Knives Out. Have you ever seen a movie in 3D or in an IMAX theater? Just once. It was Denise and Leigh’s 18th birthday treat and they brought us to watch Doctor Strange in 3D. Do you prefer skirts, shorts, or skorts? Shorts. Have you ever vandalized? Just a few school chairs in grade school, but otherwise I’m too paranoid for vandalism lol. What's the longest you've stayed up? Maybe a little longer than 24 hours. Who'd you have a sleepover with last? Gabie. When's the last time you baked something? Nearly a decade ago. Our oven was new at the time and I wanted to try baking cookies. Do you like to dance? When I’m alone. Do you scratch mosquito bites, even though you're not supposed to? Yup. Are you afaid of spiders or do you like them? I mean I’m not fond of them, but I also don’t scream and run away when I see them. I just don’t care for them for the most part. What's a pet you've always wanted? I’ve only ever wanted dogs, and now I’ve got two of them. Do you like mice? Not really. Would you ever get a tattoo? Sure. I’ve been considering it for a while now; it’s just a matter of being able to save up for one. Do you prefer to walk in the street or on the sidewalk? Street, if it’s bare and safe enough. Otherwise if I’m in a busy city with regulations and all I’d obviously rather be on the sidewalk. What's your favorite t-shirt? My CM Punk Best in the World merch. Who did you last think about? I remembered Deina when I was thinking about the tattoo question. She got a pawprint tattoo on her wrist shortly before her senior dog passed away and ever since learning about it I’ve also been thinking about getting the same tattoo. Do you like giving hugs? I love giving hugs and it’s an automatic response for me whenever I see someone I love, which is why Covid is such a torture for me. Do you prefer hardwood flooring or carpeting? Hardwood. Did you/will you get a car for your 16th birthday? No. I got a car when I was 17, around six months before I started college. Have you ever eaten a worm? No but I’d be willing to try.

#survey #surveys #a few short ones in one post

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needtherapy · 4 years

Text

soaring, carried aloft on the wind…continued 13

A story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 … HOME

It’s on AO3 here if that’s easier to read.

NOTES: This chapter is Explicit.

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Chapter 13

The weather shifts abruptly in autumn: one day sunny skies and crisp air, the next thick clouds and a biting wind that rolls down from the west. It’s a bittersweet reminder of the Cloud Recesses, but Xichen decides he likes it. He likes wool and fur-lined jackets, he likes the way the clouds are painted in shades of grey, and he likes the patter of rain on the canvas roof of his tent.

He’s busier now, too. The Ikarahu are moving again slowly, so slowly it is nearly imperceptible, but in the last two weeks, Xichen has noticed that the tent lines are shifting. Where he was once on the easternmost edge of the camp, he is now nearly in the middle, and the horse yards have moved from the northwest to the east, closer to Jinlin Tai. There are more in-camp injuries to care for and more battle wounds to heal. The Ikarahu are growing impatient, Xichen thinks, and he wonders how much longer the Jin can withstand the siege.

One evening—Xichen has lost track of the exact days—Huaisang, Qingyang, and Mingjue all come to dinner, and Xichen is immediately suspicious. Qingyang, in particular, has a wicked smirk on her face, and Mingjue looks far too pleased with himself.

“Zewu-Jun, it has come to my attention that you have kept a secret from us,” Huaisang announces.

Xichen’s blood turns to ice. How could they possibly have found out? Would this dissolve the treaty? No. No. Regardless of whether or not he alone changed the terms, the Ikarahu agreed to accept it, to accept him. They must honor it. They must. He stumbles backward a step, and Mingjue reaches out to steady him, a puzzled look on his face.

“Weren’t you going to tell us it was your birthday?” Huaisang continues, and Xichen stares.

His birthday. Is it his birthday? He blinks, thinking. It could be.

“Is it the eighth of the month?” he asks, still numb from the vestiges of prickling fear. If so, he has been here a little over two months. Only two months.

Huaisang nods. “Lucky thing I read treaties to put myself to sleep on lonely nights,” he jokes—Xichen does not flinch—and hands him a square wrapped in brightly striped fabric, followed by Qingyang, who hands him a short bamboo tube.

Xichen has to sit, overwhelmed by the surprise. Birthdays were not important in the Cloud Recesses, although they were usually acknowledged with well wishes and small tokens. He isn’t sure how to react.

“Well?” Qingyang says impatiently, when Xichen doesn’t move. ”Open them!”

Xichen does, fumbling with the pleasure of gifts and the constant surprise of friendship. Qingyang has given him a drawing of himself and Mingjue during that first sword fight. She is a splendid artist and somehow captured the motion of battle with simple, elegant, perfectly placed brushstrokes. Even the negative space inside the brushstrokes speaks of movement and action. Xichen’s robes seem to swirl around him, sword arm arching back, and Mingjue is raising his ipira to block. Xichen touches the expressions on their faces: his looks intent and serious, but there’s the tiniest hint of a smile on Mingjue’s. Xichen is nearly speechless.

“Qingyang, why have I never seen your maps?” he asks, squeezing her hand. “They must be beautiful. This is wonderful, thank you.”

Huaisang’s gift is a book of music Xichen hasn’t seen before, some folk songs and some that look like power lurks in their notes. The pages all seem different, as though they came from different sources, and they are bound in a greenish-blue leather that looks like the deepest water of the river that flows through the Cloud Recesses. Xichen gapes at it. He has no idea how leather could be this shade of blue. It must have been exorbitantly expensive or made by magic. Or both.

“It is too much, Huaisang,” he protests, but Huaisang waves him off.

“Trust me, I owe you more than that. This is the longest we’ve gone without anakau trying to throw me or anyone else off a cliff.”

Xichen has gotten used to Huaisang’s teasing and just smiles.

“Thank you, anati,” he teases back, ruffling his hair and calling him little brother. To his delight, it’s Huaisang who blushes.

“Edas ahora,” Mingjue pulls Xichen to his feet and hands him a long tube with leather straps, itself an intricate marvel. “For you.”

Xichen looks at the wooden tube, the length of an iraho, carved and painted with fantastical beasts—lions with wings, tigers with two heads, fiery birds—all beautiful beyond words. He reverently traces the lines of one coiled dragon before he opens the case. When Xichen pulls out the iraho, all the air vanishes from his lungs. It is so much more than a sword. It is a sublime weapon, perfectly balanced, meant for an emperor or an immortal, not for Xichen. The scabbard and pommel are white jade inlaid with silver in a pattern that seems random, except it reminds him of something, almost like the crackle of frost. The handguard has a blue stone set in the center of the design. And the iraho itself—Xichen has never seen anything like the blade. The metal is cold and pale, rippling in the light as though it is alive.

“What...what is it?” he asks reverently, touching the spine.

Mingjue says something, too many words for Xichen to follow, so Huaisang translates.

“It’s an ice blade,” he says. “Only a few artisans in our country still make them, but this one…” He pauses, choosing his words more carefully than usual. “This one is older and different. It has a name, for one thing, Sikunadis. We think that’s because ‘tadis sikun’ means ‘‘bright heart.’ It has a sister, Kaumadis. ‘Tadis kauma’ is ‘dark heart.’ They’re old enough that we’re not entirely sure.”

He nods to Mingjue, and Xichen realizes that he means the ipira Mingjue carries, which does have a similar pattern of fault lines, now that Xichen thinks about it, except that where Sikunadis is white, Kaumadis’s scabbard and pommel are black. Kaumadis’s blade is dark, although it has the same shifting, undulating appearance, and of course, the stone on its handguard is a deep crimson.

“They were created from the same vein of metal by the same master using the same magic, although as you can see, they took different paths during forging. They can hold magic, maybe even your magic, and they have continued to be in our family for generations.”

Xichen hears the words Huaisang is not saying and fully understands how precious this gift is. It is not one that can be refused, even if he were so inclined, and he is not. He wants to keep this beautiful sword badly, enough that he feels lightheaded with the desire. It occurs to him to wonder when and how Mingjue brought this sword to the Ikarahu camp, but he doesn’t allow himself to consider any of the answers his heart wants to believe most.

Xichen kisses Mingjue lightly, mindful of their audience, but he lingers to rub his nose against Mingjue’s. “Tiras mau, Etikuntiga.”

Judging by the expression on his face, Xichen isn’t sure Mingjue is going to allow Huaisang and Qingyang to stay for dinner—Xichen isn’t even sure he does—but Mingjue relents for the exact amount of time it takes to finish eating and then gives Huaisang a narrow-eyed look that makes Huaisang roll his eyes.

“Ipira’orhew Ikira, you are a tyrant,” he grumbles.

Qingyang grins. She cups her hands and bows deeply. “Happy birthday, my friend.”

Huaisang takes Xichen’s hand and tugs, pulling Xichen down to kiss him on both cheeks. “To long life, swift horses, and blue skies,” he says, and then adds, more softly and mysteriously, “Thank you.”

He shoots Mingjue an aggrieved look, but Mingjue just waves his hand, shooing his brother, and Xichen bites his lip to keep from laughing.

Qingyang doesn’t resist, laughing and draping her arm over Huaisang’s shoulder to lead him away. “Aurakat, I will let you buy me a drink to celebrate our dear friend Xichen’s birthday, and I won’t even complain when you inevitably whine about your tragic love life. Is that acceptable?”

Xichen turns to ask Mingjue why Huaisang had thanked him, but the words are lost and the thought disappears as Mingjue meets him with hungry lips, ravishing his mouth as soon as the tent flap closes. The hands on his body are equally greedy, and Xichen steps into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Mingjue’s neck, pulling him closer, just as eager. Mingjue sweeps Xichen into his arms to carry him to the bed and lay him down, but Xichen stops Mingjue before he can get any further.

“I want to see your hair down.” Xichen touches the braids. “Kami teko parau?”

It’s not quite the right words, but Xichen hopes that between the two languages, it’s close enough. Mingjue’s reaction surprises him. His mouth curves into a wicked smile, and he tips Xichen’s head back, kissing him hard, thrillingly harder than usual, sliding his other hand inside Xichen’s robes to rest on his chest, just above his heart.

“Ani, aitapaho, iko eko paka,” he says, and Xichen hesitates.

“Should I not?” he asks. He’s never seen Mingjue’s hair down, only either tightly coiled or loosely arranged. Perhaps it is not allowed.

Mingjue’s smile broadens. “You may. It is…” The dimples deepen, and Xichen’s heart rate climbs. “It is a sacred vow,” he laughs and turns to settle on the bed between Xichen’s legs.

Xichen still doesn’t know exactly what he means, but he reverently touches the thick cluster of braids and tugs at it, looking for the circular pins that hold it. He collects them in a pile until the braids drop from their tight knot. They’re longer than Xichen expected, falling to Mingjue’s mid-back, and even plaited, they’re soft to touch. He runs his fingers through them and Mingjue makes a humming noise of contentment. Xichen’s fingers yearn to undo all of them, even though there must be close to a hundred. He wavers, still uncertain, and Mingjue looks back at him, eyebrow raised. He takes one of the braids and pulls off the thread that binds it, undoing the plait and shaking his head.

Swiftly, Xichen starts unfastening the rest of the braids. Mingjue seems to be enjoying himself, exhaling like a purring cat and rubbing his hands over Xichen’s legs and inner thighs while he works, occasionally adjusting to lean against Xichen’s groin in a very distracting way.

By the time the last braid is undone, Xichen is nearly breathless with arousal. The unbound length of Mingjue’s hair is as sublimely beautiful as the rest of him, wavy from the braids, with a reddish hue in the golden light of Xichen’s tent.

Xichen sinks his hands into the thick mass, scratching Mingjue’s scalp and running his fingers all the way to the edge. Mingjue turns his face to touch his lips to Xichen’s jaw. It is such a gentle, loving gesture, it ignites an immediacy in Xichen born of more than only lust. His heart, his soft heart, is pounding with unspoken words, and he suddenly needs to feel Mingjue’s skin against his. Xichen tugs at Mingjue’s clothes ineffectively, not exactly pulling any of the right places, but Mingjue obliges him, sliding off his jacket and generously removing his tunic without Xichen even needing to ask.

Kneeling to face Xichen, he shakes his head with mock sorrow. “Your clothes. Too many.”

So Xichen takes Mingjue’s hands and sets them on his belt. “Take them off,” he agrees.

Mingjue has become skilled at unfastening the many layers of robes and underclothes Xichen usually wears, and in exchange, Xichen has started wearing fewer of them. Today, he has only two robes, an undershirt, and the wide-legged pants the Ikarahu prefer. Mingjue grins when he realizes it and pulls Xichen’s shirt off with a flourish that makes him laugh. Mingjue leans forward to kiss Xichen, and his waterfall of hair covers them both, tickling Xichen’s neck and chest, turning the laughter into restless hunger.

“Xichen?” Mingjue asks, brushing his nose against Xichen’s ear, sending tingling sparks surging down his back and neck. “I want…with you...pikodau? Hm...sex?”

He sounds unsure in a way that makes Xichen smile, and he feels a little bad for what Huaisang’s efforts to teach Yuyan to Mingjue must be like. “We have. We do.”

Mingjue’s grin is a sideways tilt of his lips that makes him look charming and boyish, and Xichen tucks a loose strand of wavy hair behind his ear. “Yes, piko. It is good. Pikodau is different sex.” For once, Mingjue is the one who flushes, and he gives up trying to explain. “Trust me?”

Xichen does, especially here in this bed, where Mingjue is always attentive, always accommodating. And that blush, the one that scatters a rosy tint over the creases of Mingjue’s dimples—Xichen finds that he is willing to risk much for that blush. He wraps his arms around Mingjue’s neck and kisses him roughly, not certain what Mingjue is asking for, but certain he can trust him.

As is ever the case, he loses himself in the intensity of Mingjue’s demanding hands and mouth and hardly notices when Mingjue slips his pants down over his hips. He’s surprised when Mingjue rolls him on his stomach, though, and he’s thoroughly shocked when he feels warm breath on his buttocks. This is something new and strange and, he feels, entirely inappropriate. He doesn’t like that he can’t see what Mingjue is doing, but the hands on his back are soothing, even when they angle his hips up, and he relaxes.

Trust, he reminds himself.

“Mingjue, oh, no, please,” he stutters when he feels Mingjue’s tongue graze against his hole, but he leans into it anyway, his body reacting before his thoughts can process. When his dazed mind catches up, he corrects his words so there is absolutely no confusion. “Yes, please, ani.”

The first time Mingjue had touched Xichen there with wet, oil-slicked fingers, Xichen had nearly passed out. He wasn’t entirely innocent—he understood how such a thing could be necessary. It never occurred to him that it was desirable until he had heard himself moaning and pleading for more, and more, even more, and had climaxed with Mingjue’s fingers deep inside him.

Now, though, he doesn’t even recognize the keening sound of his voice. The hard and soft feel of Mingjue’s tongue against him, dipping into him, is worlds and stars beyond his wildest spring dreams. Mingjue wraps a hand around Xichen’s waist, reaching to stroke his cock, too, and Xichen is made of fire, kindling wherever Mingjue is touching him. It’s almost too much to bear, but when he stops, Xichen falls back onto the bed with a disappointed whine he can’t quite suppress. The Ikarahu may not believe in gods, but at this moment, Xichen certainly does.

Mingjue reaches into the pocket of his discarded pants and pulls out a small jar. He pours oil onto his palm, coating his fingers into the small pool and spreading it along the length of his shaft. With courageous effort, Xichen moves his liquid arms and legs so he can watch Mingjue with hazy eyes, understanding now what he was asking for, and debates whether or not this is something he wants. It is not a long debate. It is, in fact, simple. Inexplicable and unlikely as it is, he wants Mingjue, any way he can have him. Every way he can have him. Not only for a treaty, not only for duty, but for himself. What monotony his life would have been, he thinks, if he had not made this choice, and he opens his mouth to tell Mingjue.

But the words dissolve in his throat as Mingjue kisses the corner of Xichen’s knee and asks again, asks with his eyes and his hands and his mouth. “Xichen, yes?”

In answer, Xichen lets his legs relax and fall to the side, a curving smile shaping brazen lines on his face and Mingjue’s hissed curse and groan. “Mingjue, yes.”

Less tenderly than usual, and more like he is fighting his own shaking desire, Mingjue slides his finger inside Xichen, distracting him from the momentary discomfort by kissing his neck and nipping the edge of his collarbone. He curls his other hand around Xichen’s cock again, and there is nothing but the pleasure that shivers in great sheets across his skin. Mingjue’s finger—fingers, now—move inside him, and Xichen is eager to moan, eager to urge Mingjue on with his voice.

“Please, more, touha, ako,” he begs in both languages, and Mingjue chuckles, but it is tinged with an edge of barely restrained frenzy.

“Aitapaho, ek eko mau Sikunadis, my bright heart. Eina katu sima aki akiti eko?” Mingjue tells him between kisses. “Da atem okira auha di teko kiria.”

Xichen is throbbing, the blood in his body threatening to explode out from him. He can not think to translate anymore. He can not. He grabs Mingjue’s face between his hands and looks into his eyes, the nearly black circles wide with surprise.

“Mingjue, stop talking and just fuck me.” He’s never used the word “fuck” before, but this seems like the right time to start. “Etikuntiga...pikodau...ako.”

Mingjue’s groan is half whimper, half sob, and he drops his head to rest on Xichen’s chest, but he shifts, adding more oil, adjusting himself, and adjusting Xichen with trembling hands that are usually so confident and sure. He is hot and hard and wet against Xichen, and Xichen can’t quite comprehend how he can so powerfully want something he’s never experienced.

With a shaky sigh that already sounds overcome, Mingjue enters him, gradually pressing in, and Xichen immediately thinks he’s made a mistake. This will not work. They will not fit this way. The fullness is uncomfortable and unfamiliar and not immediately enjoyable. But Mingjue is slow and patient, despite, Xichen notices, his muscles quivering with the effort. He takes one of Xichen’s hands and kisses the palm, nibbling the tips of Xichen’s fingers, which is enjoyable. Very gently, he leans his hips forward and Xichen gasps at how something uncomfortable can quickly turn into something absolutely imperative.

“Aitapaho? Yes? Ereda sinedi?”

“Oh...…” Xichen manages, arching his back off the bed. It is better now, so much better, and the sparks that burst through him are different, in the way lanterns differ from the sun. “Ani, yes, continue.”

It is the last coherent thought he has, because Mingjue starts to move, pulling out of him and pushing in, and Xichen is consumed. He hadn’t known, he thinks. No one had told him that there could be pleasure like this in the world, that having someone—no, not just someone, Mingjue, only Mingjue—in his bed, in his life, in his body could so unmake him and fulfill him.

The constant fireworks spread out under his skin, and he strokes himself, matching Mingjue’s speed, watching his eyes roll back, his mouth slack with panting desperation. He should not feel such pride in Mingjue’s passion for him, but he does, and a fiercely possessive sliver of his heart wants to see more.

“Ah...Huan...let me...help,” Mingjue says, holding Xichen’s hand in his, sliding along Xichen’s cock with him, repeating his name over and over.

It's the first time Mingjue has ever used his birth name, and he pronounces it with two syllables, as it would be in Orera: who-ahn. Xichen hadn’t even realized how much he missed his name and missed what it meant to have someone know him enough to use it. Family. Friends. Confidants. Even if it is only through sex, even if it does not meant to Mingjue what it means to Xichen, feeling known is indescribable. Even when the sounds run together like nonsense, they still sound like music to Xichen.

Xichen’s breathing is ragged and panting uncontrollably, teetering on the sharp edge between pleasure and release, his mind whirling with thoughts and feelings too immense to capture in words. It will never be exactly this way again. He will change, he has changed, for good or ill, and he wants to capture this moment, this singular moment, to remember it forever, to shield him against the uncertainty of the future.

The sudden vehemence of his orgasm takes Xichen by surprise, flexing muscles across his body, even down to the arches of his feet. Everything feels dull and sharp at once, and he wants more and less, he wants to scream and laugh.

Mingjue’s moans take on new, feral tones that vibrate through Xichen. He falls forward, catching himself on his hands and kisses Xichen madly, furiously. Xichen plunges his hands through Mingjue’s thick hair to the back of his head, anchoring his mouth, and he tastes like the fierce jubilation of love. In three powerful thrusts Xichen feels in his chest, Mingjue climaxes, clutching Xichen tightly to him and filling him with a shocking burst of heat before collapsing against him.

Xichen vows to never move again. When Mingjue tries to shift his weight off of him, Xichen wraps his arms and legs around him and growls a warning, which makes Mingjue laugh weakly.

“No. Stay,” he commands, and Mingjue acknowledges with a chuffing exhale, tucking his head under Xichen’s chin.

Finally, though, even under Mingjue’s enveloping warmth, Xichen gets cold. Reluctantly, he gets up to clean himself and Mingjue before he leaves. It is how their evenings usually end, but this time, when they are done, Mingjue pulls Xichen back down to the bed.

“Wait. I have a gift.”

He gets a clay pot from the pocket of his long wool coat and opens it. The sweet scent of jasmine wafts from the jar and Xichen jerks upright. Mingjue grins at his hopeful expression, seeming pleased with himself. Sitting next to Xichen, Mingjue shows him the jar, and Xichen touches the thick cream inside that smells so powerfully of home, of the jasmine bushes that wind through the Cloud Recesses, the bees that form clouds around the flowers, and somehow also like the waterfall that crashes over the mountain.

“How?” Xichen asks, his heart clutched tightly in the memories the scent carries. “How did you know?”

Mingjue touches Xichen’s hair and leans forward to inhale, nuzzling his nose against the skin behind Xichen’s ear. “It is how you smelled when we met. I could never forget.”

Xichen feels broken open and defenseless, and he doesn’t resist when Mingjue begins to rub the cream onto his back. All he can think about it is how he’s rejected calling this love, even in his own mind. He likes Mingjue, he’s foolishly attracted to him, but Xichen is always aware that he has no real choice but to be here. And he can’t ignore what the Ikarahu are doing—have done—can he?

Mingjue reaches his feet, rubbing them one at a time, and Xichen closes his eyes. He has been shown nothing but kindness, treated with nothing but love. No one here has ever raised a hand or voice to him, belittled his opinions, or treated him like an object to be attained. If he had chosen, would he have chosen any differently? Would he choose anyone else? Would he want a life without Mingjue in it?

Before Mingjue can finish, before he can start to dress, Xichen grabs his hand.

“Ahoraho, will you stay tonight? Stay with me?” he implores, trying out the word—beloved one—and it fits perfectly in his mouth.

The radiant smile Mingjue gives him makes Xichen realize he had only been waiting for Xichen to ask.

Mingjue fits himself against Xichen, threading his fingers through Xichen’s under the warm blankets, and he feels safe, and loved, and wanted. Before Xichen falls asleep, with Mingjue’s breath on the back of his neck, Xichen wonders if this is what having a soulmate is like.

Like a hand linked in his.

Like the steady thump of a heartbeat next to his.

Like a gift he did not even know he wanted.

What more could there possibly be?

Translation Notes:

Tiras mau. = My thanks.

Kami teko parau? = Brush your hair?

Ani, aitapaho, iko eko paka. = Yes, treasured one, only for you.

Aitapaho, ek eko mau Sikunadis, my bright heart. Eina katu sima aki akiti eko? Da atem okira auha di teko kiria. = Treasured one, you are my Sikunadis, my bright heart. What did I do to deserve you? I will die happy in your arms.

Ereda sinedi? = Continue?

#the untamed #cql #the untamed fic #soaring au #nielan #nie mingjue #lan xichen #mdzs #nie huaisang #luo qingyang #happy birthday xichen

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ivyjlopez · 4 years

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October 9, 2020, 8:19pm Q&A 101

Eight days before my birthday as of this writing. I’m actually having second thoughts if I should do a blog or a vlog. But, I do like writing and releasing my thoughts through words rather than speaking up. So, as I’m about to enter another year and continue to be an adult I’d like to start doing things I’ve wished I’ve done earlier. I do not intend to have plenty of followers in any social media platforms, the only goal is to write, encourage and lead people closer to Christ through my writings and to release the thoughts I have in my head for quite some time. Yes, I’ve always been telling people that I am an introverted gal and even so, that doesn’t mean I cannot share the gospel having this personality. Introversion is not a disease and if you know you’re one of the “introverted peeps” and is frightened to share the word by speaking up or encouraging people then share it the introverted way. You go, gal! The Lord got your back. ;)

To begin this blogging journey, I’ve let some of my friends ask me certain questions about anything that they’d like to ask. Disclaimer, those that you’re about to read below are just based on my thoughts and opinions, and I’ve used some verses from the scriptures and will be using ‘em in my future blogs, if you’re actually opposed or you want to correct anything, feel free. So, here you go…

Question #1

Who are you?

I chose to answer this one first as a way of introducing myself a lil’ bit. So, most of my colleagues knew me as someone who’s meek, timid and quiet. But for those who are actually close to me would somehow oppose (lols). People would usually talk to me and seek advice as if I am a pro (lols kidding aside). I think it’s just that they consider me as someone worthy enough to be trusted sharing their deepest darkest secrets since I usually prefer to listen to someone’s rants and let the person do the talking cause sometimes that’s only what a person needs. Someone who’s willing to listen. I am literally not the type who does the first approach and most of the time would tag as “snobbish”. (Maybe I wasn’t really snobbish, I just didn’t see you due to my 300/400 vision. Haha.). I would definitely describe myself as someone who loves and values solitude, spends my spare time resting, reflecting, reading either at home or outdoors. I prefer to be in a small group of friends than being surrounded by the crowd. I am someone who doesn’t like the spotlight, I’d prefer to stay lowkey and not let everyone know what my next steps are.

P.S. I might be one of the most picky person you’ll ever meet. Lols.

Question #2

Where do you want to go?

If this question pertains to travelling, I prefer land over water activities (just to add the fact that I don’t know how to swim that’s the main reason I dislike water activities). Nothing specific, it could be both local or international, I’d like to roam around places just to pass by a well-known spot and attractions, watch and appreciate the beauty of nature and sceneries, read books if possible (sort of boring to some but I’m just simply happy with this kind of thing).

Just to add up though, one of the unforgettable trips I did a year ago was at Puerto Princesa. To cut the story short it was supposedly for a two person trip turned to trio friends down to the first ever solo trip (sighs). It was my first time to be at the airport, first time to ride a plane, first time to go somewhere I’ve never been, first time to plan my own itinerary Onset (lols). Am I lonely during my whole stay? Definitely not (remember solitude is my forte) I was kinda nervous at first but it was suddenly replaced by excitement. I’ve met new people along the trip, my eyes were able to capture beautiful sceneries, I was able to eat and enjoy my breakfast without rushing. I didn’t do much activities on those days but my heart and soul was truly grateful and joyful. And it made me even realized, I am indeed capable of doing things on my own, going to a certain place on my own and just being on my own. Do not equate being alone to being lonely. I was planning to go back this year however, this isn’t the best time yet. Looking forward to visiting that place again and to more other places and countries soon.

But at the end of the day, as some would say, “there’s no place like home” - I will always end up with my comfort place which is, home. (But more than the home I have here on earth, I’m also one of those people who looks forward to coming home with the One who created humanity.)

Question #3

Is it really painful to be left behind?

Without a single thought - Yes.

If it is for someone who passed away, the grief that anyone feels couldn’t be covered up by any comforting words even by the wisest person you knew. Just let the person grieve for now and do its work then healing will follow. Pray for that person too.

If it is for those who left in order to move out or pursue a career it would also be painful for those family members and close friends to see you go. But as for me, if you are in faith and I see you brave enough to explore the unknown, you will always have my support. It’ll be sad for a while. But we have to remember that sometimes letting a person go is also a way of showing our love and support. Let the person grow on his/her own.

Breakup - unquestionably painful. Why? Imagine not talking to the person you thought you’d end up marrying? Those plans you guys made will now be redirected to a different person. Same thing with losing a loved one because of death, this too needs a grieving phase. Cry as much as you want then stand up again. At the end of the day, you’ll just laugh it off (swear) forgiveness and acceptance will be your last destination.

Question #4

Lessons after the breakup

A lot actually (this might consume the entire space lols).

First, your happiness shouldn’t be dependent on a certain person.

Second, never allow yourself to be an option, you deserve to be a priority too.

Third, having the same personality doesn’t guarantee long-term commitment.

Fourth, never let a day pass by without fixing your arguments.

Fifth, communicate and choose to understand.

Sixth, shares the same faith and beliefs (it should always be a Christ-centered relationship).

Seventh, be consistent while both of you are still a work in-progress.

Eight, be honest. I’d prefer someone who tells the truth and does not sugar-coat.

Ninth, choose the people you’re hanging out with and/or seeking help or advise. Not everyone you call a friend is indeed a genuine friend. (It is written in 1 Corinthians 15:33 Do not be deceived: “Bad company corrupts good morals”)

Tenth, choose to forgive always, everybody deserves to be forgiven. Acceptance will always be around the corner once you’ve gone through the right stages of moving on.

(I’ll be cutting it off right here cause there’s quite a lot that I’d like to write. Haha. I might write a separate blog for this. Stay tuned. Lols)

Question #5

How to stay positive in life?

We can’t stay positive all the time. Even the strongest and the most optimistic person that you know will have his/her own downcasted moments and that is okay. Coming from someone who actually thinks negatively this question is kinda tough to answer (haha) but as for me, do not let negative thoughts overwhelm you to the point that it is already consuming you. Sometimes those thoughts are all in the mind and you’re just giving yourself a reason to create a problem that does not even exist. Surround yourself with people who will inspire and motivate you to do better, unfollow pages in social media that will trigger your anxiety, disconnect from people that are not helping you grow, stop looking up to idols and conforming to the pattern of this world, break the bad habits that you always knew you needed to stop doing. Keep it a habit to continually pray, always look up to God’s word prior seeking advice to your closest friends or bursting it all out in social media. If you are to seek counselling, ensure that it is from someone who will not tolerate you doing evil deeds. Read self-help books, open your bible, don't let the dust embrace it. Listen to calm music, it’ll help. Remember that you are loved and blessed. (Philippians 4: 6-7)

(Thank you for your questions Jonnabae, Angge, Dani and Adreng) I’ll be posting the rest of the other questions and my response of course next week. :)

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rerorero-rero-rero · 5 years

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Breaking from the madman // Oliver Kirkland

Another day... or was it night? No matter what time was it, the nightmare kept going on.

<<A few months before, Cielle had moved to England. After various years of saving, she got enough money to afford an apartment and, finally, she had a nice starting for the life she wished since a kid. However, she knew things would not be easy from then on. As days went by, Cielle started to need more money so a job was required, the thing was that there was no place to look for a job nearby her apartment and going from here to there walking was tiresome and distances were long yet. Days continued to be hard as still she could make any friends so the feeling of loneliness as starting to eat her thoughts "How would it be having a friend around?" It was a constant question.>>

"Sweetheart, are you awake?" goosebumps and shivers ran uncontrolably through her spine. That voice was the reason she was so afraid and regretful for entering that pastry store "I love you so so, so much and you've got no idea to what limits i'd go to prove that to you, my sweetest cuppycake" Whoever listen to that cheery voice could suspect none of this man's capablities with a knife. With a wet red tinted hand, he reached for his beloved's cheek, to gently caress it. The love and delicateness on his touch were almost normal if it was not for the possibility that that paint on his hand was blood and not precisely paint "Sweetie, i just came to remind you that i am yours and yours only. I'm your slave, i'll be whatever you want me to be... i bloody promise it.." again, like every other days he would go visit his darling, he ended up crying, begging for a single reply, a sound from her. The cold wall against that ginger haired man usually worked, yet, if she closed her eyes while he was still crying, Cielle would think that she was on that doll house like room by her will.

<<"Okay so... Kirkland's Candy Shop?... That is a long title i guess" Cielle read the OPEN at the door: it was written in a beautiful, curly and sweet at sight calligraphy,in an alluring golden colour with soft lines of a cute baby blue; the door frame was yellow and, the door itself, was made out of wood, two small windows in the upper side of the door and it was painted in white "Just like a doll house... i wonder if i'm properly dressed" and with that last loud voice thought, she went inside, there were two big shelves filled with muffins, colourful cupcakes, candies of almost every kinds, shapes and flavours and lots of chocolate statues of a hand sized. The place was mainly painted in pink with a lavender line on the medium lower part of the walls and, from below that line, it was still pink but it has dots of a vanilla colour. The tables and chair were directly taken out from a princess' castle; they were white, with baby blue or vanilla yellow table covers. There was also another small hall, where there was another small playing area, where there were a few customers and what it looked like a little girl's birthday party (Princess themed of course) decorations.

The albino gal decided to ask one of the mothers that were present if they possibly knew where Mrs. Kirkland was "Uhm, Excuse me ma'am, do you possibly know where Miss Kirkland is?" the woman stared at her white hair, and, with a kind smile, answered "Sure i know, honey. In fact he is bringing my daughter's birthday cake. There" she signed... DUDE, HE WAS NOT A MISS. Cielle blushed instantly at her -awful- mistake "Oh Happy birthday, Gummy bear. I hope you enjoy it" and the man placed the Sleepy Beauty decored cake on the main table "Thank you mister!" The chorus of little girls voices was incredible and how their eyes were shining at the little caramel and marshmallow statue of princess Aurora.

The pink dressed man gazed at the albino with his piercing neon blue eyes. Cielle never saw something as beautiful as that shade of unique blue eyes.

"Hello, Sugar Cube" he approached the female with a kind -Chessire Cat like- smile "What can i do for you?" Cielle stared for a little while at the man's bushy ginger eyebrows "Oh well, you see mister--" she was interrupted "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but i haven't tell you my name yet; Oliver Kirkland, honey" the female smiled "Well, you see, Oliver, i was walking around to see if i could find a cheap place to have a bite of something but i saw this newspaper with this job announcement. I decided to came by and ask if the job is still avaiable" Oliver's eyes sparkled with joy "Oh thank goodness someone came, of course it is. Let this birthday party end and then, we'll go to my office to discuss your employment" the albino nodded "Yes of course. My name is Cielle Durand, pleasure to meet you" she gave her hand "The pleasure is for me, Sugar Cube" Oliver took Cielle's hand and, gently, kissed one of her knukles, causing a really noticeable blush on her pale cheeks>>

Even with all of Oliver's gentle caresses on her white hair, Cielle remained still, staring at the flannel pastel green nightgown.

"Please! Talk to me! Just anything, you can swear... I promise i'll do anything but just... let me hear your voice" he was tearing so hard that not even his hands could wipe all of his tears. It was like if Oliver had a salty sea hidden on his eyes, he was crying loudly by times, then his voice would break and finally, he was a sobbing, teary mess. The first time Cielle saw him cry that hard, she knew he had freckles that were perfectly hidden under one or two layers of compact powder.

<<The birthday party end and Oliver, after wishing a happy birthday to the little girl, guided the soon-to-be-employee albino gal "Now, now Snow White, let's go to my office, or would you rather to talk here?" Oliver asked "I bet you have the files in your office, so let’s go there" both shared a cheerful smile and went to the office.

Oliver offered a seat in front of his desk and proceeded to take out a few employment files "Okay sweetheart, so i need you to fill these up; this first page is about your schedule, i'd want you to chose what of the schedules is better for you, i'd like you to be comfortable with it" Cielle smiled "Thank you Oliver. My turtle and i really appreciate it" both giggled "But really, i don't think i'll need it since i'm more than ready to work five days a week. I really need the money and Mike is running out of food and i like refuse to feed him my finger" now only she giggled while Oliver just stared "You have a wonderful laugh; also, i think your whole look is alluring, really. I must confess that i've never saw an albino" he smiled sincerely as the green eyed female blushed "Sincerely, you look like a marble statue. I know it might be impolite what i'm about to ask but i'd like you to wear the yellow uniform. Let me go get it so you can see it" Cielle grabbed Oliver's sleeve so he would stop "Uhm,actually, i'd rather a pastel green or a baby pink... i mean! yellow would be fine but it makes me look paler that i actually am so... also, those colours make my eyes look greener" and with a shy smile, Cielle let go from Ollie's clothing.>>

Cielle was tied by her ankles and handcuffed from just one of her hands to the bed, even tho, she kept quiet, slowly breathing as if her normal breathing would make noise... she thought on if it would be a good idea to talk or not.

With a husky voice (for the lack of speaking) "... let me go..." instead of a hard and demanding voice, as usually Cielle's voice was, a small, almost inaudible beg came out of her lips "But love, my marble statue, my reason to breathe... y-you know i can't, yo-you'll go to the police an--" he was interrupted by small sobbing "Please... just sunlight... or any thing" Oliver felt his heart pounding more than usual, oh how he loved her voice... it was so melodic to his ears, an angels' choir to him. For as innocent as the ginger could be or as childish or gentlemanly as he could get to act, he was a wolf dressed like a sheep, better said, a demon dressed as a gingerbread man.

<<Oliver had already met Mike, Cielle's turtle and he bite the freckled man's finger and both laughed then Oliver screamed every time it happened"Not like that, look, you throw the reptile sticks and then, if he nuzzles his nose with you, it means he's ok with you" she did as she said to show him how to make friendship with a turtle "Oh, like th--AUCH!" Mike bite him again "Maybe he's not comfortable with you... i think it's because you're a man" Oliver gave an intriguing glare at his albino crush "How's that? Also, how are you sure he's a male?" Cielle smiled and took her employer by his chin to guide his piercing blue sight to the slimy boi "Look at his tail, it is long. Female turtles have shorter tails... and are quite gentler when they bite" the man sighed when he accidentally gazed at his precious Snow White "Uhm... poppet, then maybe, Mike is jealous" Cielle nodded "Well, since i arrived to England, there has been only a "Mike and me" kind of story... y'see, i saved him on my mother country from being eaten" both began to walk away from the puddle where Mike was relaxing to a bench nearby "How was that? I mean, i don't know almost anything about you yet you know about my "family... if it can be called that" Cielle stared at Mike trying to catch a fly "Well, it's kinda long, you might want to get comfy"

"The hard part of my story is when... well, since i was born. I never had a father, someone who would guide me and protect me, instead, i had an abusive excuse of a dad. My younger sister is not an albino, in fact, she has pretty ginger-red hair, almost like yours but without the pink on it, she was exotic, i was an error. I used to enjoy watching her play under the sun as she would always ask me to go play over with her but i always ended up denying; we, albinos, can't stay under the sun without sunscreen, sun glasses or a hat that would make a shadow... basically, we're like vampires but without the blood thing" both giggled "I can't tan, seriously, i've tried to many times but i end up looking like a cherry, red" Oliver said with a smile "You're brave" the present gal smiled "Mother loved us by equal and i was grandma's favourite, i'm not saying that Rouge wasn't but i was the most sticked together to her... one day, dad simply took us away from mom and grandma. Rouge was still a baby so i had to raise her, therefore she grew up seeing me as her best friend, as her big sister, and i taught her that i was not the mistake dad and aunt claimed i was. Once i started high school, i got te news that my english was almost the best of the classroom and i got to make a few friends such as Lauren, Ophelia, Judas, Natalie, Alizee, Tony and Necherjet, those were my bestest friends of all life and, thanks to Necherjet, i got a full scholarship here in England." Cielle smiled and gazed the cloudy sky "Of course i had to finish the already begun semester there, and there was a biology fair. I love animals but our project was risky, even for small ladybugs; Mike and another turtle from another team made it and the teacher asked me, as i was just passing by, that if i'd like to take care of a turtle, i sure accepted. He bite me the first time we met: Alizee dared me to poke him but he was scared... the guy that took the turtles there, only raised the for eat them. As our teacher was a marine biologist, she declined the turtles back and, instead, gave them in adoption. I choose Mike because he was as scared as me on he inside, later on, he was pretty shy on the house but i insisted on trying to befriend him and i did it and i can't be prouder of myself" Oliver was kinda teary at this point "You are a hero, princess, a warrioress, how did i got so lucky to meet you?" both giggle as they finally got up to pick Mike from the puddle (Mike hissed at Ollie) "Mike, pretty please? I promised i'd never leave you, k?" the turtle calmed down "I wouldn't consider a warrioress, i'm just a big sister that carried on with her condition" >>

"Will you love me if i do that? You promise to undyingly love me back?" Oliver's piercing blue gaze was filled up with hope, joy "If i take you outside, will you love me back?" once again, she answered in a husky tone "Yes... i'll do... just let me out" Oliver began to cry again, this time, with joy and exitement.

He made it! He had finally made it! After months and months of trying to enamour her... everything just went better since they had moved in toghether "I love you, I promise i do, i promise you'll be happier with me out of this four walls. Let's get you cleaned up" Oliver held Cielle's bloody hand, who did nothing but follow Ollie's moves "It... hurts" she cried out when her kidnapper pulled her hurt limb by her bloody fingers "Oh i'm sorry, you were misbehaving dear. But worry not, gumdrop, i'll clean you up; tell me, doesn't a big tub, filled to top with warm water and bubble soap and sit next to your lover, sounds nice? Of course it is indeed marvellous" and the male placed both of his albino's limbs around his neck "Hold me tight, love" and carried her out of the room "The tub is already done so strip and choose a side on there, i'll be waiting outside. Tell me when you get comfortable in the water and i'll join you" with those last words, he closed the bathroom door and let alone Cielle to strip. Once the both of them were in the tub, Oliver couldn't help but smile, lean and kiss Cielle's forehead "What a lucky man i am for having you. You know i'm not the best guy around but i promise i'll make you happy by my side" along with the water, the freckled man's chest was also warm, that's the peace he always had wished for, even if it was non consensual.

Cielle, eventually, HAD to grow feelings for him. She would never be able to break from the madman; she'd BREAK for the madman.

#yandere 2p england #yandere 2p hetalia #yandere #oliver kirkland #2p england #2p hetalia #one shot

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eldritchsurveys · 5 years

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636.

Have you ever done a craft that you found on Pinterest? >> No, I don’t use Pinterest. Do you get scrapbooking layout ideas from anywhere? >> No, because I don’t scrapbook. What do you do to wipe off the dust from ordinary life? >> What? Are you content with mystery, or do you wish you knew everything? >> Mystery is one of the things that makes life interesting, for me. My curiosity and imagination needs mystery to chew on, to turn over and over in my mind. If it was just fed all the answers, it’d be bored and so would I. What do you do when someone irritates you on Facebook? >> No one irritates me on facebook. But if they did, I’d either unfollow or unfriend them.

Are you judgmental? >> I don’t encourage judgemental behaviour in myself.

Do you think your hair looks better natural or dyed? >> I think it looks healthier when natural, and that’s the most important thing. I can always wear wigs for funky colours.

Do your parents disrespect you? >> --- Have you found that love covers over a multitude of sins? >> No. It enables one to treat another’s shortcomings with grace and compassion, which is important. But if something is truly rotten, love’s not going to do shit for it. What was the last Grand Opening you went to? >> --- Do you have anything coming up tomorrow? >> All I want to do tomorrow is play video games and be comfortable in my bed. What’s one thing that makes your stomach hurt? >> Anxiety. Ever had a living nightmare? >> Er, maybe? Do you have a lot of haters? >> Not to my knowledge. I don’t think I register on most people’s radars to begin with.

Do you think successful people always come with a pack of haters? >> I mean, probably. Envy is a hell of a drug. Do you have supernatural abilities? >> Who knows what kind of abilities I have. Even I don’t know. Do you kick yourself when you make mistakes? Do you say, “I wish I would have” a lot? >> Yeah, although I’ve been trying to cut down on the self-flagellation. Are you doing the most you can with your life? >> Sure, by my standards. Do you let people walk on you? >> No. Are you ok? >> Sure. Do you have a friend you miss right now? >> No. Do you ever write snail mail to your friends? >> No. Do you make your life look better than it is on Facebook? >> I don’t post on facebook. Do you feel God’s presence regularly? >> No. For the record, I’m not attuned to that sort of presence, so I have no idea how I’d even look for it. Do you experience chronic pain? >> No. Do you believe God loves you and is rooting for you? Wtf is with all these Christian surveys lately. Are people not aware that the vast majority of the world is not Christian? <-- They’re probably from joybucket. Christian questions aside, she makes decent surveys and there’s always a shortage of those, so. Anyway, my comprehension of a capital-g God is a more panentheistic kind, so any anthropomorphic features it’d possess are because its nature is being expressed through humanity just as much as through everything else. Have you ever dreamt that you were falling? >> Probably, but more often I just have that weird falling sensation just as I’m dropping off to sleep. It hasn’t happened much lately, but it used to happen constantly. What would your dream career be? >> --- Are you a daydreamer? >> Not so much. Do you daydream so much that you wonder if there’s anyone who doesn’t? >> --- Do you ever just sit and daydream for awhile? >> No. I’m not really sure how daydreaming works. If I’m staring into space it’s because I’ve zoned out or because I’m ruminating on some conversation I had and dissecting my every misstep or something stupid like that. Is the snow falling where you are right now? >> Not where I currently am, no. But where I live, it probably is snowing. I’ll find out when I get off the plane tonight. What is your favorite part of nature? >> What isn’t my favourite part of nature. Do you wish you could be a world traveler? >> You know... not particularly. Not to say that I don’t love seeing new places, and not to say that I don’t want to go to other countries, because I do. But it’s just not so much a priority to me anymore. I’m just as happy watching Anthony Bourdain do it. (Also, sensory defensiveness and related problems has really begun to impede on my enjoyment of travel.) Do you wish you could live in another city for a year? >> I mean, sure. I just can’t imagine what situation would lead to that. What city would you like to visit? >> Oh, you know. Any one will do. What has been your favorite city that you’ve visited? >> New Orleans. If you had kids, would you take them to Disney World? >> I wouldn’t take kids to Disney World, I’d take myself. I’ve never gone and I’m curious about it. Have you ever stood in line to get a Disney character’s autograph? >> No. Do you own a birthday crown? >> No. How long does it usually take your hair to dry? Do you dry it naturally or blow-dry it? >> My hair is very short so it takes like 10 minutes. Do you straighten your hair? >> No. Do you sleep with a teddy bear? >> I sleep with two teddy bears and an assortment of other animals. Would you consider yourself a free spirit? >> I don’t really know what that means. Do you need to clean out your closet? >> --- Do you watch YouTube videos regularly? >> Sure. What’s your favorite coffee shop? >> --- Is your Pinterest page cluttered? >> --- Do you want to start a collection? >> No. Are you a role model? Would you consider yourself a good example? >> No. Are you a leader or a follower? >> I’m just... a person, man. My roles change depending on the situation. Who’s your favorite person? >> --- Who have been your favorite American Idol contestants? >> --- Did you used to name your Barbies? >> I don’t remember if they had names. What unnatural hair color looks best on you? >> I prefer silver on me. Is your life boring? >> It can be, but I like it the way it is. Do you usually feel better around people or alone? >> Alone is usually my default comfort zone. Is there a broken relationship in your life that you want to fix? >> No. Do you ever think about Heaven? >> Occasionally, because it seems like such an... unlikely kind of afterlife. Are you ready for Heaven yet? >> lmao did you just ask me if I’m ready to die Are you afraid of where you’re going to go? >> I really hope I can get that mushroom suit for my corpse. Do you have a tree outside your window? >> No. Do you feel better now than you did last night? >> Well, which part of last night? When I was at the after-party, I felt great. When I got back to the motel, I was super tired from all the drinking and socialising, so I felt a little crappy. I feel fine now. Is your sleep schedule messed up? >> Kind of, because I just spent two nights in a different time zone and away from my own bed. But it’s nothing a few nights back home won’t fix. Does your body have any problems with it? >> *shrug* Are you doing ok spiritually? >> Relatively. Have you taken any huge risks lately? >> Well, I guess coming down here was a bit of a risk financially, but it worked out. Silence or songs? >> Depends on what I’m in the mood for. Tea or coffee? >> Tea. Books or movies? >> Both. Do you ever watch your favorite movies from when you were a kid? >> Sure. ^If you were going to do that, what would you watch? >> The Prince of Egypt, definitely. The Pagemaster is a lot of fun to rewatch, too. Also, Labyrinth, of course. Do you ignore rude people or do you call them out? >> I usually ignore them. It’s less effort. Do you have trouble staying organized? >> No. What has been your most favorite adventure? >> I don’t really know. What has been your greatest mistake? >> *shrug* Are you happy with your life right now? >> Sure. Do you take anything to make your feel better? >> CBD oil kind of functions that way for me, in a not-very-dramatic way. Are your parents still together? >> They never were. What color socks do you have on? >> Grey with a Halloween design on them. Are you under a blanket right now? >> No. Are you hopeful? >> About what....?

#surveys #survey #random survey

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fmdyujinarchive · 5 years

Text

fmdmeme002 — compilation.

1. what is your goal for this year/next year?

it’s a fairly common question that yujin’s been getting a lot since 2020 started. her goal hasn’t changed much, and she’s pretty sure her korean fans are all aware of it at this point. “more korean promotions! as a group and not just me. we really appreciate all the love we get from all around the world, but i think some domestic promotions as a group would be nice. maybe also two comebacks in a year?” she eyes her manager who’s hovering over her and giggles in hopes to ease the tension, sending off the fan with a wave.

2. what song would you want to sing to or play for someone you like?

“do you like someone?” yujin’s teasing the fan in front of her because it’s one of their pre-debut fans, someone she’s seen around. “from the way the question is phrased, i’m guessing it’s someone you like but you aren’t really with. am i right?” the fan nods, and yujin can’t help but laugh. she finds the whole situation cute, and she’s happy her fan finds her comfortable enough to confide in her. “how about bolbbalgan4′s some? it can work as a sort of confession song!”

3. what’s your favorite scent?

”i’m a big fan of flowery scents! i think a lot of my perfumes are sort of rosy smelling. but you know what’s really nice? the smell of laundry that’s just been folded. or maybe that’s just the smell of detergent? i pick our detergent so that makes sense, right?”

4. if you spent one day with a fan, where would you go and what would you do?

”i have always wanted to go on an amusement park date with our fans! wouldn’t that be so much fun! i absolutely love roller coasters, and all the attractions that an amusement park has. the parades that they do for special occasions! even the expensive food! it would be absolutely marvelous, don’t you think so?”

5. what new concept do you want to try showing fans?

yujin liked to think that element was quite diverse with their concept despite popular belief. sure, some of their songs had similar vibes behind them, but they weren’t exactly the same concept. “as element? i think another suit and tie concept would be nice. we never got to perform don’t recall which i think was the closest we had to that concept so going back to that would be nice.”

6. which girl group do you like the most recently?

”everybody knows i love aria sunbae-nim a lot!” she clapped her hands together at the thought of her favorite seniors. “lost n found was so amazing and so was wag-zak! i had the best time performing mr. chu back at our gold star nation concert. i’ll practice a few of their songs again and try to upload them for our aether!”

7. which boy group do you like the most recently?

now here was the trick question. she had it a little easier than other girl groups because of her own male members. people didn’t seem to find her a threat for some reason. it was odd, but it meant that she could be more expressive with such questions. “it’s not because they’re from the same company, but origin sunbae-nim are all so talented, and they’re breaking records! i think that’s really admirable.”

8. what soloist do you like the most recently?

”our very own @fmdjoosung! nobody else competes with sung oppa,” she commented. when the fans gave her a few thumbs down, stating how that was a boring answer, she huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. “what do you mean boring? sung oppa is my favorite soloist and always will be. or at least until @fmdsohyun makes a solo debut.”

9. what song have you been listening to a lot that you would recommend to fans?

”it’s weird, but i’ve been listening to songs that i practiced as a trainee again! there’s so many, but for some reason i’ve had lipstick sunbae-nim’s heart attack stuck in my head! so that’s something i’ve been listening to a lot. you all probably know the song because it was so popular, but i recommend you go back and listen to it again! watch the music video too!”

10. what is your most used app?

she looks down at the sticky note, and its choices. it’s filled with the typical: instagram, kakaotalk, melon, twitter or other. yujin does update instagram a lot, but she’s not sure if it’s her most used application. she ignores the sticky note at first, making conversation with the fan instead, but when it’s time for her to move along, she finally makes her decision. there’s a circle around kakaotalk by the time she’s moved onto the next member.

11. what should someone do to win your heart?

”sing me a love song!” yujin laughs while leaning over to grab the fan’s hand. “i’m kidding. that’s a little cheesy, but i don’t think i’d mind it?” she sits on the question for a while. “just be truthful and express all your love! that’s more than enough for me!”

12. what do you want for your next birthday?

she knows that what she answers is most likely what she’ll be getting. however, she didn’t really want fans spending money on her for her birthday. “just lots of love! and hugs! and maybe some kisses from my members!” she laughs before waving off the fan and greeting the next one.

13. what do you consider to be your most charming feature/trait?

”don’t i have a pretty smile?” as if to prove her point, yujin puts on the biggest smile she can manage. it’s the first part of her face that she could think of that she doesn’t even consider personality traits. “i’ve also heard that i’m fun to be around. i think that counts as a trait?”

14. what is your favorite flavor of ice cream?

yujin’s a simple girl. she pretty much likes any flavor and will take anything. “i like chocolate and vanilla swirled together! is there a name for that flavor?” her burrows come together in curiosity, but the fan doesn’t seem to know it either. “anyway, i think there might be, but yeah, that’s my favorite flavor!”

15. how should i ask out the person i like?

”just be straight up about it!” terrible advice, but there wasn’t all that much time. plus, it’s not like a high school student had any other options. “tell them you like them! ask them to a movie or maybe to a snack date. get ddeokbokki and maybe patbingsu even though it’s a little cold. that’s a cute date idea!”

16. what’s the secret behind your good looks?

the question immediately makes her laugh. it’s cheesy questions like these that make her ecstatic for fan signs. she wonders how fans come up with such questions. “love yourself!” she said also writing it down on the page that she was signing. “you know what they say? your inner beauty shines through all the time. so stay true to yourself.”

17. what do you think of fans of the same gender as you?

yujin adored all her fans. however, she thinks the female ones are a little more special. they seem to be more expressive with their love in ways that make her happy. male fans usually screamed to show their love, but female fans would send her long messages or letters. they’d make sure to ask about yujin’s well being first. “i adore them. they truly make me smile all the time.”

18. what is the most recent thing that made you happy?

she had just finished wrapping up filming for school 2017, and that was definitely a happy experience. but she thinks it sounds too personal. too non-element related. but it’s not like she had anything element-related to tell her fans. “we had really good chicago pizza when we went to chicago! it was delicious!”

19. what is your happiness level these days on a scale from 0 to 100?

yujin realizes that questions like this can be misinterpreted. she could give a high number, and they’d accuse her of being fake. if she gives a realistic number, then her fans would worry. so she scribbles down 99, and then writes a +1 whenever i see you! that seems like a cute enough answer that won’t worry anyone.

20. can you give some inspiring words for someone going through a hard time?

yujin wishes she could have the right words to say. she’s good at comforting people through physical touch: hugs, back rubs, things like that. but she never seems to have the right words to say. what would be inspiring for yujin when she was going through a hard time? looking down at the note, she writes down: always stay true to yourself. even if this doesn’t work out, at least you tried, and you fought. that’s what matters.

21. what words of advice would you give to someone studying for their college exam?

yujin never took the exam. she graduated high school, and then that afternoon she went straight back to practicing. she doesn’t even remember doing too well in school. it was good enough if she showed up. “just remember that you’re smarter than you think you are! you’re going to do great, and all your hard work is going to pay off. i believe in you.”

22. give yourself a percent ranking from 0 to 100 in the following categories: cute, cool, and sexy.

at first, she doesn’t see the note because she’s too busy talking to her fan. when her attention is brought to it, she tilts her head to the side. “i think i’m definitely a 100 in cool,” she jokes. she writes down 90 for cute, 60 for cool and then 80 for sexy. element’s concepts were always pretty strong and sexy, and she thinks she does her part pretty well.

23. what place do you want to travel to the most?

element’s been to a lot of places around the world already, and so yujin can’t seem to think of a place. “singapore? we’ve been there before, but we didn’t get to travel! i remember it being a beautiful country though, and i’d love to go back! you know, actually explore the place a little more.”

24. what language would you like to learn?

”i feel bad whenever changyu oppa has to translate for me so definitely english! but i’m already trying! it’s just hard.” she pouts because truthfully, she has stopped trying. learning languages was difficult, and she could speak a decent amount of japanese. that was easier to learn than english. it was the pronunciation that always got her fumbled up.

25. what is the first thing you think of when someone mentions your fans?

”how supportive they are! how much love they always send to us! how they’re always anticipating our new music. oh i could go on and on!” she truly could. yujin’s love for their fans was one of the most genuine feelings she ever felt.

26. what is your favorite movie/book you’ve seen/read recently?

yujin hadn’t read in forever. she’s picked up a few essay books, but she couldn’t find one interesting enough to finish. a lot of books were supposed to be about self loving or teaching yourself life lessons. she thought those were boring, and not something you could learn from a book. “to all the boys i’ve loved before! it was so cute and really cheesy, but still cute. it was a high school romance movie so it just had to be cheesy.”

27. what are your recent wishes?

she’s not sure how truthful she could be. her biggest wish is for all the individual recognition that she’s been getting to go onto element. she didn’t want to lose her group, but she feels like at this pace, group promotions may continue to be pushed back. that’s the last thing she needed. “for everybody to be healthy! and safe. and happy.” she states all while writing it down on the heart-shaped sticky note the fan has provided.

28. what are the requirements for your ideal type?

”it’s changyu oppa, of course!” it’s a running joke within the fandom. whenever someone asks for her ideal type, she’s answered her own group member. it was a safe answer, and everybody always took it as a joke, and yujin liked it that way. “don’t tell sung oppa though. he might sulk again!”

29. what job would you want if you weren’t an idol?

yujin’s one of those people who can’t imagine her life as a non-idol. this is what she was born to do. “i’m not sure. i think i could make a good kindergarten teacher though, what do you think?” the fan nods, and she thinks it’s a good answer for something that just popped into her head. “i can’t imagine myself as anyone other than element’s yujin though.”

30. what is a hobby you’d like to pick up?

“i think i’d like to try snowboarding! i’m so used to water sports, but i don’t think i’ve ever gone snowboarding before. it looks like a lot of fun! i think i’d fall on my butt a lot, but that’s all part of the learning process! maybe i’ll try it when we have some time off.”

#fmdmeme002 #[ copying demi bc i don't want to flood the dash ]#[ esp bc i think i'm super late with this lmao ]#[ but i still also have miru so look out folks!! ]#( headcanon. )

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consultingsister-aa · 5 years

Note

👫 for Sebastian, Lexie, *and* Aidan please 💕

SEND 👫 FOR FOUR HEADCANS // ACCEPTING

for sebastian :

Cecelia writes notes for Sebastian everywhere. Bathroom mirror when he gets out the shower? Love hearts. A post it note stuck to work papers he can read when he goes into work. A scrap of paper tucked into his clean shirt when he goes to the gym. These notes can range from incredibly sweet to ridiculously dirty, usually dependent on where he’s going to be reading them. Also sometimes she gets Lia and Vi to write things too as they get older, or draw little sticky note pictures. It’s teeth rotting sweet.

Sebastian buys Cecelia books everytime he travels abroad. Sometimes they’re books she’s never read before, sometimes they’re classics in the language of the country he’s visited, sometimes it’s both. Always he writes the date he was away and something along the lines of ‘wish you were here’ on the cover page. Cee isn’t easy to buy for because she just buys something if she wants it but books are always safe.

Celia once stabbed Sebastian in the leg. It was an accident. How a knife slipped from her hand while she was cutting vegetables, fell across the room and landed in his leg, while he was talking about how this twenty-four year old intern was making eyes at him all day accidently, we may never know. He has never got a straight answer as to why she did it, in fact she just pretends it didn’t happen, what time I stabbed you?

When looking for the country house, Cecelia saw a total of forty-three houses before the found one she really liked. It was important to Cee that the country house was a home base for Sebastian and Ophelia, somewhere constant, and knowing herself, that meant it had to be perfect or else she would get the new house itch. While Cee is happy enough moving from house to house in London, and probably would have been in the country too, it wasn’t what she wanted for the sake of her family. She didn’t exactly tell Sebastian this, just told him really stupid reason she didn’t like the house everytime, eventually he gave up coming unless he really liked the look of it.

for lexie :

Cecelia was allowed to make a maid-of-honour speech at Lexie and Aidan’s wedding and it was the worst / best thing to have ever happened. It was basically just a long love letter to Lex where Cee made it perfectly clear that her and Lexie are soulmates and Aidan can fuck off. Also various threats to Aidan and a unfeeling ‘welcome to the family I guess’. There was also some very nineties teenage photos of Lex, soz babe.

Electra and Cee get matching pajamas for Christmas eve and watch The Holiday every year. They have done this since high school and are not giving up just because they’re adults with houses and partners now, fuck that. Although now Lex gets pj’s for Sirius and Aidan so they can’t complain and it’s their choice not to join in.

When Lexie and Cee finally do have children, they get pregnant around the same time, Cee is a little earlier. In fact, they organise a dinner and plan to tell each other on the same night. But, even better, they’re children share a bloody birthday! Lexie goes into labour about a week early, Cee who is two weeks late at this point and furious about it goes into labour while unpacking Lexie’s hospital bag. One minute Aidan is yelling, let me do it! Next minute, Cee is yelling, look what you did you fucking idiot!

Into her thirties, Celia finally settles into a career that doesn’t fill her with self-doubt and insecurities; writing. Her first fiction novel is dedicated to ‘my other half, who has guided, shaped and supported me in more ways than they know, whatever souls are made of, yours and mine are the same.’ Most assume this is a very uncharacteristic Cee to Sirius thing, but when a first edition lands on Lexie’s lap, a handwritten note under the dedication simply says, ‘you know it’s not him I’m talking about babe.’

for aidan :

When Sirius arrives home from their tour and admits to Cee that he was’t entirely faithful when he was away, Celia does what she always does when they have a fight, she goes to see Lexie. Only she’s not in. Aidan yanks open the front door, obviously just out of bed, and yells, SHE’S NOT HERE, HOLMES, FUCK OFF! only to be met with a look like a kicked puppy. For a second he thinks it might be something about Lex, because Cee looks so upset, but once they have cleared that up, Cee bursts into tears and tells Aidan what has happened. Big brother mode can’t help but kick in, but instead of threatening to beat Sirius to a pulp ( he does later, don’t worry ) Aidan just pulls her in for a long hug. For about five minutes they just stand in the doorway, Celia crying hard on his shoulder, without saying a word. Eventually Lex gets home and can actually deal with it and Aidan and Cee never talked about that soft moment again.

What they do talk about however is that time Celia saved Aidan’s life! Although how Cee tells the story isn’t quite how Aidan remembers it. In his office, an old and embittered employee has a gun pointing in Aidan’s face, Celia shoves him out the way and gives Aidan time to grab his own gun and shoot the guy in the leg. What actually happened is Cee opened the door without knocking and shoved the guy aside by accident. But it all comes to the same thing; Cee is a motherfucking hero!

Aidan plays video games to relax at home and Cee relaxes in his home by knocking him off the leaderboard everytime she comes round. She’s not even naturally good at the game, she’s got good out of pure spite and a competitive streak with Aidan.

All the times that Aidan has woken up to both Lexie and Cecelia in his bed. Not really in a sexy way, more in a Lexie in the middle, spooning Cecelia who has come over after a fight with Sirius way. He doesn’t understand why they have made Cecelia her own fucking bedroom in their house and yet he still gets shoved out the bed so Cee and Lex can having fucking sleepovers! But it’s cool, whatever, he’s chill, whatever.

#asteriananthologies #( i. message )

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literalloserforhanzo · 6 years

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Happy Late Birthday ♥

Hanzo x Reader Oneshot ♥

Short summary: Hanzo is a busy man and misses readers birthday. To make up for it, he plans out something special for her. WARNING! EXTREME CHEESE AND FLUFF!!! This fic is dedicated for mah lovely friend Viri <3 (who’s bday was last month lol)

________________________________________

“Mrs (Y/L/N)!”

“Yes Sophia?”

“Did I write this right?”

The little girl handed you her exercise booklet.

Your eyes glided from the top to the bottom of the paper curiously, scanning it for spelling and grammar errors.

“You did a good job for your first essay, I found something though. You got the tenses mixed up here “ you pointed towards a word, “ and here.

Go back to the pages we read together last lesson and correct it before class ends. “

Sophia took her booklet back and nodded, before she turned around and walked back to her seat.

With a sigh you checked your watch and quickly after, you peeked at your phone.

No messages.

Nothing.

The view upset you, but it was no surprise. People wouldn't want to bother you at work and the majority of your friends were at work themselves. Especially the person, whose message you were awaiting the most, would be the last in terms of capability to answer.

He was most likely busy snapping someone's neck or piercing their skull with an arrow.

The thought of that sent a shiver through your spine.

Your best friend was an undercover agent for the government, basically the one, who does the dirtiest work. Everybody thinks, that those who work such jobs are cold hearted monsters, far from human and reckless in any way possible and to someone who'd only get to know him briefly, the description would be spot on, but as someone,who actually means something to him, you have more than enough reasons to negate those accusations.

There aren't enough synonyms for lovely and caring, to gather a description of this man you called your best friend.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a group of girls' loud chats and laughter in the corner of the class room, which quickly found an end once you met their gigglish looks with a raised brow and the obnoxiously loud clearing of your throat.

It was one in the afternoon and you just finished writing the homework onto the blackboard for the students to copy, when you realized, that something was off. Usually one or two students were already eager to leave minutes before the end and had their stuff packed to run off, once the bell rang. For some reason, all of them were strangely calm and their items were still spread all over the tables, as if they were still up to something. You washed your hands to get rid of the chalk dust on your fingers and returned back to your table, when suddenly all the children got up and formed a semicircle around you and began singing.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you,

Happy Birthday Mrs. (Y/L/N),

Happy Birthday to you!”

The children began to cheer and the two class representatives handed you a bouquet of flowers and a small packed gift, you were asked to open right away. You ripped open the paper and your pupils widened instantly. You were holding a set of extremely expensive paint brushes.

“This is so lovely! Thank you all so much! I can't believe you planned this all alone!”

The children looked at each other in joy and with proud expressions due to your praise.

Even though you were a language teacher, your love for art and painting was known amongst both your colleagues and your students.

Thanking your class a few more times, you hugged each student, before they eagerly packed their belongings and made their way out of the class room.

By the time the last student left you were done packing as well. You locked the classroom and walked to your car. With a thud, you closed the door and breathed out, enjoying the sudden silence as the voices of playing children were no longer in your ears.

The brushes were something you always hesitated to buy, since they were really, really pricey but now, they were yours and your mind was already flooded with ideas of what to paint first. It's been a while that you discovered them and toyed around with the thought of a purchase, literally telling everyone about how good they are, hoping to receive them as a present. As always, your genius plan worked as intended.

You couldn't wait to show them to your best friend of to surprise him with a really good painting.

Unfortunately the joy of thinking about said action vanished as fast as it appeared. He wasn't in town. Probably not even in the same country or continent. His work was top secret and he said you would be better off knowing less. You were absolutely clueless, about where he was at the moment or when he would come back, it was common for some of his duties to take longer than expected. You had just wished, that maybe this time he would be back in time. You decided not to linger on sad thoughts and drove to your parents place, who were awaiting you impatiently.

One week later.

Hanzo's POV

It's morning.

“Excellent work like always Mr.Shimada. Just like I expected it from a man like you.”

You got up from your bowing position and looked into the eyes of your boss.

“You honor me!”

“We sent that naïve simpleton our regards, they won't get in our way any time soon.”

You nodded in agreement, not knowing what else to add.

“Well well.... you look tired. The mission is over, you may go home unless you still have anything to say.”

You shook your head. “No, I am finished.”

“There is a limousine waiting to escort you home.”

You bowed down again. “Thank you.”

“You're always so formal. I guess that's a sign that you're parents raised you well.”

Your boss groaned. “Speaking of parents... I totally forgot that I have to call my wife's mother today. I guess it has to be another golden Rolex this year unless I want to hear complaints for months … Every birthday my wife wants something even more extra ordinary for her mother. I just wish she would leave me out of her plans each time.”

Birthday..... Oh god …. Oh no … OH NO!

“Sir , would you please tell me what today's date is?”

Your boss looked at you in confusion.

“It's the xx.xx, why?”

Your pupils tightened. God damn it. How could you forget.

“Sir is it possible,for the driver to bring me to another place?”

“Of course Mr.Shimada, would you first explain to me why though?”

You began explaining.

(Y/N) POV

“Ah dang it, thirteen percent.”

You had forgotten to plug your phone into the charger over night as you had fallen asleep on the couch.

Annoyed, that you couldn't scroll through the latest news as the first thing of the day, you got up and rubbed your eye. Making your way to the charger, you stepped on a piece of paper on the floor.

“Huh?” You picked it up and recognized the flyer of the city's art gallery. You placed it on the kitchen table and turned on the coffee machine while wondering where you left your charger. Ever since your birthday you were very busy with work, so you had barely any time left to look after yourself or your apartment. You decided to take a day off all tasks and catch up with what you had neglected lately.

At the breakfast table you decided to take a look into the flyer before you would drop it into the trash can. There were three exhibitions this month. Two rather boring ones and one that caught your eye, the one about ancient east-asian art. You remembered bringing the flyer home so you wouldn't forget to book the tickets for you and your best friend but the both of you forgot about it in the end and now it was too late, since it was not only the last day but most likely already booked out.

Sighing you dropped the paper into the trash can and took a sip of your coffee.

You missed him and It was becoming annoying. You knew he was good at his job and not all of it was cruel so he enjoyed it aswell. It paid well so he had a life free of worries, you couldn't complain either, as his best friend you out of everyone enjoyed that fact the most. Unfortunately all the gifts and pleasures coming along with his job were no substitute for his constant absence. Missions could take up to two months sometimes. The worst thing was when he suddenly disappeared for three and a half months, without being able to notify you. It was an emergency and he was called in during another mission. Lucky for the both of you, that never occurred again.

It was true, you despised his job. It consumed so much of his time one couldn't call it a life. You saw him so little amounts of time, it was ridiculous. You knew him since high school, yet nothing had developed further than a good friendship. Sometimes you would point the finger towards yourself, after all you encouraged him into taking the job offer he received after winning an award for his combat skills. You didn't know it would end up this way. If only you had known.

Unlike your best friend, who had nothing else in mind but studying, to ensure a bright future for himself, you sensed your feelings for him pretty early on but decided to keep them to yourself.

Multiple girls had confessed to him and he turned all of them down, saying he had no time for a relationship because of his studies. You knew better than doing the same mistake, you didn't want to risk losing the friendship you had built up during those three years. You eventually became the person he shared everything with but that was about it. He was very reserved and you were afraid to lose him. Your jobs didn't leave much time for the two of you to spend together. There was no solid ground for a relationship and you started to doubt that there would ever be, no matter how many times your hugs would last for minutes, no matter how often his face would be mere centimetres away from yours while watching movies or going to amusement parks together. No matter how often the two of you would look at each other blushing when you were asked how long you were dating already.

Louder than necessary, you placed the mug onto the table and closed your eyes. Oh when would he finally come back and be in your arms again, so you could tell him how much you missed him.

Opening your eyes, you remembered your plans for today. You got up from your chair and brought your dishes into the kitchen.

Later that evening.

“Yeah, yeah dad I will call you back later, I need to bring the groceries home and I need both hands for that, love you, byee!”

Sighing you hung up the call and got out of your car. You took your goodies out of the trunk and closed the door.

Your neighbour greeted you at the door and held it open for you, since you had both hands full of bags. You thanked the woman and waited for the elevator to arrive. Inside it you eyed yourself in the mirror. You had lost some weight lately, partly because you planned to in first place and partly because eating alone was just not the same. You looked into your own eyes. It really was overdue for you to take care of yourself again, you hadn't seen yourself this pretty in a while now, just keeping your appearance up as much as necessary.

Bing!

You walked out of the elevator and placed the groceries in front of your door to find your keys, which had fallen to the bottom of your purse. You opened the door and closed it with your leg, quickly took off your shoes and walked into the kitchen to unpack the bags. You were done and decided to take a seat on the sofa and relax in front of the TV for a moment. As you walked into the living room, you immediately realized, that something was off. The chair you had breakfast on today, was missing. Confused you walked around the room, back into the kitchen and suddenly towards your bedroom.

Were you going crazy? You opened the door of your bedroom and your jaw dropped. The chair was there, on it, an enormous plush of your favourite animal. Around it, the words “Happy Birthday”

had been arranged with light strings. Three huge boxes were placed on your bed, wrapped in shiny paper with bows all over. You walked over to your pile of surprises and a card caught your eye.

“Happy Birthday (Y/N)!

I'm sorry for being late, I hope you forgive me.

I'll be picking you up at three, thirty .

Be ready!

Hanzo”

You smiled and shook your head. That's all he had to say after three weeks? This man ….

You wanted to open one of the boxes but then your watch caught your eye. It was already two fifty!

And you still had to shower and dress up! This was going to be a special day after all!

You dropped the present onto your bed and quickly ran towards the bathroom.

Twenty five minutes later you were checking your phone nervously. A last glance into your pocket mirror reassured you, that you were in fact, looking gorgeous. Not knowing what surprise he had in store, you dressed elegant enough to fit a fancy dinner but casual enough, not to stand out if he'd just take you to the cinema. The doorbell rang and you shot up from your seat, rehearsing your greeting. Something about this was special. It didn't feel like the last times he came back. It was completely different. You opened the door and your heart began beating like crazy. Your eyes locked for a few seconds, the two of you eyeing each other after this long time, before indulging in a very long, tight hug.

“Happy belated birthday.”

“You were gone for way too long.”

“I know.”

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?”

“I'm sorry.”

“You better are!”

You ended the hug giving him the most ridiculous angry expression, causing the both of you to laugh about it.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, mind telling me where we are going?”

“Hmmm no, you'll have to be patient, birthday girl!”

He took your hand and the both of you walked outside.

In front of your apartment, something had caught a few passengers eye, and yours as well the moment you walked out of the door.

A really beautiful Mercedes was parked in front of the door, shining in the midsts of the regular sized cars.

“You didn't have to ….”

He grinned widely. “But I wanted to.”

The passengers stepped aside as he held the door open for you to step in. You shook your head and took a seat. Hanzo closed the door and walked over to the drivers seat.

“I really don't want to know the price of this car, do I?”

“No, and it's nothing you need to worried about anyway.”

The low buzz of the car began and he started driving.

“How did you like your presents?” He looked over to you and smiled slightly.

“I don't know.” You shrugged, “I haven't opened them yet.”

Hanzo raised a brow.

“Why not ?”

“I barely had time left when I came home. Besides, I wanted to open them with you there.”

You looked over to him, the corners of his lips slightly rose.

“Alright, we'll open them later then.”

Minutes later, the two of you arrived at a lively part of the city and parked the car.

He opened the door for you and he took your hand to guide you to your destination.

You stopped in front of the art gallery and he looked at you, curiously.

“Why did we stop? What are we gonna do here?”

“What do you think?” He grinned.

“I don't know? All I wanted to see was the east asian art but it's sold o-”

Hanzo waving with two tickets, cut you off mid sentence.

“We should go in, it's the last day and we still have much to see.”

This man....He was full of surprises and mysteries. You had no idea how he managed to get the tickets but you couldn't care less. You were too busy being exited about the exhibition.

Time flew by as you looked at what felt like a never ending collection of ancient art. You were amazed and mesmerized by each one of them, wishing you were allowed to take pictures of all the details and individual paintings.

As you had reached the end of the exhibition you walked into a small room, arranged to be a store.

The post card section magically attracted you like a spell. Scanning the cards for some of the beautiful pieces you saw in the exhibition, a blue card caught your attention.

The blue print was met by a golden dragon, treated with a dark golden fish pattern. It looked extremely pretty and royal and reminded you of your best friends family emblem and the tattoo on his arm. You picked it up and turned around to show it to him, he would love it ! But he was nowhere to be seen. You scanned the entire room, just to be told by the saleswoman, that he got a phone call and walked out already. Sighing you looked at the post card again. Maybe it was too much to be expected but you wished to have him just for yourself, an entire day. It would've been too perfect if that day could be the day, you celebrated your birthday.

Your decision to not let that thought drag you down and just enjoy what you have, guided you to the register. You bought the post card together with a notebook and a few other cards. As you were paying the items the woman asked if you also wanted to take a look at the tie pins, since one of them would match your boyfriend so well. You didn't know what you were supposed to ask the lady first, why she thought you two were dating or why the hell the souvenir store would sell tie pins.

“The gold in the tie pin would suit the golden shine in his eyes.” She smiled.

“You are right, the shade also matches his suit perfectly, I'll take it. But …. he's not my boyfriend, what made you think that?”

The woman covered her mouth and then giggled.

“The way he looked at you, it just …. reminded me of the way my father used to look at my mother. I don't think I've seen more love in somebody's eyes before.” She laughed nervously at your surprised expression before handing you the little paper bag with your newly purchased goods.

“Have a nice day” she said , “and oh, … I don't think my eyes were lying to me when I saw him.“ She winked at you and you smiled brightly as you stepped through the door.

Hanzo dropped his phone in his pocket and rushed towards you, as you walked out of the entrance.

“I'm sorry (Y/N)! It was an urgent call from my boss but everything is alright now.” He smiled.

“So show me what you got!” He tried lurking into the small bag but you quickly hid it behind your back. “Hmm you'll have to wait until later.”

Your playful grin made him raise a brow.

“Anyway, walking for 3 hours straight made me sooo hungry,

can we stop somewhere nearby and grab something to eat?” you asked him, resting a hand on your stomach.

“I know a good place.” He said smiling. “But it's not nearby.”

You huffed in dismay and followed him to the car.

He didn't lie, it really wasn't close by. While you were admiring the view on the highway , his phone started buzzing very loudly next to you. Your body's reaction to the surprising sound and your nosiness were quicker than your will to respect his privacy so you took a glance on the screen of his phone. Your heart twitched slightly as you saw an unknown name of another woman light up on the display. You didn't remember him having any female colleagues or any girl named Rosie in his family. Who was she? Wasn't he always telling you everything? How come you never heard of this new friend of him? The car ride went awkwardly silent from then on. Luckily, you quickly met your destination soon after.

Hanzo stepped out of the car and walked towards your door to open it for you, you decided to use the time to quickly drop the little package with the pin into your purse. The door opened.

“I don't think I've ever been in this part of the town before, where are we?” You asked, as you stepped outside the car, hoping he'd take your hand again.

“I have only been here before once, they just finished building new houses and stores around in this area so it's not quite known yet. That should change soon thought, you'll find out why, once we're inside.”

He gave you a promising look before offering you his hand. You were glad but also surprised, he rarely held your hand , usually he'd only go that far some times when he walked you home at night and creepy people would pass by you.

Hanzo guided you towards the entrance of what looked like the most fancy restaurant you had seen from up close. The two of you went eating out quiet often but nothing could reach up to this. It was cute of him to go out of his way for you but it was very unusual of him to make things this extravagant.

You entered the restaurant and your jaw dropped. It looked similar to a ball room but with beautifully shaped chairs and tables. The lights at the hight ceiling were surrounded by shiny chandeliers.

After naming himself to the receptionist, Hanzo was greeted with a bow and the two of you were lead to a small stairway at the side of the desk. Your friend asked you to go first and you walked up the stairs quickly, curious of what was awaiting you upstairs.

About halfway there, you realised the slight wind meeting your face and you suspected to be led to the rooftop of the building. Your suspicions were true and you couldn't believe your eyes. It was beautiful. The rooftop was rather small and looked like a very lovely balcony. There was only one table and two chairs were placed around it, facing each other.

The fence was surrounded by garlands of roses and the most powerful source of light, next to the two lanterns at the staircase, was the dark red candle in the middle of the table.

A waiter placed two menus on either side of the table and went downstairs quickly afterwards, leaving an electronic bell behind. Still admiring your surroundings and the marvellous view at the city's shining buildings, the night lights and their reflections in the sea, you took your seat and decided to read the menu as your hunger was at its peak.

“I really can't decide, if I want to settle for a pizza, or if I'd like to try something new. The baked chicken sounds soo tasty.”

“I am really tempted by the chicken aswell” Hanzo sighed. “But the grilled salmon sounds just as good.”

“How about....”

Hanzo's eyes slided from the menu to meet yours. “I choose the chicken and you take the salmon? And we try from each other?”

Hanzo nodded and smiled. “Sounds like a good idea to me.” His sudden smile made you blush and you tried to hide it quickly, by ringing the bell for the waiter and deciding on a beverage.

After giving your orders by the polite man in the suit, the two of you picked up on any news regarding your families and quickly after, you excused yourself, to go to the bathroom.

Leaving your stall, a woman passed by you to the sink next to yours to wash her hands. A moment later you recognized her. She was the wife of some TV celebrity . So this place was more than simply fancy looking? It must be serving very nice food as well, you thought to yourself.

The receptionist guided you to the stairway again and you began walking but stopped right before your head, peeked out of the entrance. Hanzo was speaking to somebody. Probably on the phone. You didn't want to spy on him but your curiosity was taking over you, as you wondered who would be calling him this time of the day.

“Yes , everything went as planned, thank you for everything again, Agasa san!”

Agasa san? That was his boss' name, so it was a work related call? But it sounded less formal...

“I can't thank you enough for your help sir and don't forget to deliver my thanks to Rosie aswell, you were right, your wife really is talented at planning surprises. I don't think I would've managed to gather all the right things in time without her help.”

You smiled brightly.

“Yes, yes, and no that was nothing. It's my job after all. Have a great evening sir.”

“Excuse me m'am, your dinner.”

You turned around in confusion just to meet the slightly uncomfortable waiter standing at the entrance, waiting for you to leave the staircase so he can deliver the dishes.

Embarrassed, you hurried to your seat, pretending not to know anything and enjoying your delicious dinner.

The fifth sip of champagne later, your plates were empty and your bellies filled.

The place was quiet and peaceful and the two of you were simply enjoying the moment of silence before Hanzo's phone gave off a silent buzz, making his eyes expand.

“It is time...” He whispered and turned off his phone.

“Time for what?” You asked , as he got up from his seat and asked you to follow him to the fence.

“There is a festival today, at the beach over there. “

Exited you waited for him to end his sentence. “And if I'm not wrong, there should be a fi-”

Hanzo was cut off by the loud chanting of people counting down from three in unison, before ten rockets shot up in the air, on the other side of the sea, dissolving in bright lights and sparkles in the sky.

You were mesmerized by the beauty of the colours and the lights, you didn't notice Hanzo looking at you the entire time instead, watching the fireworks out of the reflection in your eyes.

The rhythm of the fireworks lost it's steadiness and you looked over to Hanzo, causing him to quickly look away after you caught him staring. This made you remember the words of the woman in the store and the Pin.

“Ah, I've got something to give you.”

You quickly walked to the table and took the pin out of your purse, hiding the package behind your back as you turned around, to watch him take a sip of his champagne nervously.

“Close your eyes!” you requested as you slowly walked towards him.

“Why?” He asked.

Gosh, such a stupid question. He was really nervous all of the sudden, but why?

“Just do it, It's a surprise.”

Hanzo breathed in sharply and closed his eyes.

“Do I need to hold out my hands or anything? “

You were now standing right In front of him, unpacking the pin.

“No, just stand still.”

He swallowed hard as your voice determined, how close you were standing in front of him.

Taking his tie into your hand, you slided the fabric between the two parts of the pin and softened the fabric of his shirt causing his hands to shiver slightly.

“You may open your eyes.”

He opened his eyes and looked down. A smile marked his lips.

“The color of the pin is so beautiful. The gold really shines even thought its a bit dark. I love it! And the pattern ...”

He looked at you. “Where did you get it? I don't think I've ever seen a pin this beautiful anywhere before.”

You grinned. “The store section of the exhibition.”

“Uhm.... you're joking right?”

“No”

“Why would they sell tie pins?”

“I don't know” You laughed. “But hey, I guess that's were you'd find such beautiful tie pins.”

The both of you laughed slightly before you became so silent you heard each other breathe.

“Oh you moved and now it's uneven.”

You rearranged the tie pin and he looked down to watch you do so. Again you flat out the fabric of his shirt but your hands remained on his chest. You didn't want to take your hands off him, ever.

You wished this moment could last forever. Just you and Hanzo. No phones buzzing, bosses calling, other voices interrupting. You didn't notice you were staring at his chest, caught in your thoughts, until you heard Hanzo, call out your name.

His hands slid on top of yours, his thumb brushing over your remarkably smaller hands, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Happy Birthday.”

He smiled at you, hoping he had made up for the time, the two of you lost during his time working.

“Thank you for everything Hanzo, the presents, ... the exhibition, the dinner , …the time with you.”

You smiled and were surprised, that he wasn't anymore.

“I wish I could spend all of my time with you.”

Before you could think of an answer to that, he continued.

“I love you.”

your lips parted as the heavy blush on your cheeks gave off the answer to his proposal.

There were so many emotions going through you at this moment. Your thoughts travelled back to the moment you met him, the first time you spend your afternoon together. Every single time your heart beat fast because of him rushed by your mind, filling your stomach with a million butterflies and your heart with a strong rush of joy and an even bigger rush of relief.

“I want to be with you, (Y/N).”

Softly, you freed your hands from his, travelling up to rest your fingers on his cheeks, closing the gap between your lips, as they met each other , unwilling to ever part. His arms pulled you closer to his, making you able to feel his chest on yours.

Your lips finally distanced for a longer period, allowing you to breathe and look up at him and reply.

“I love you too Hanzo. I want to be with you for ever.”

His eyes closed for a second and a relieved huff left him, causing you to giggle. So that was, what he was nervous about?

Your finger brushed his cheek and his beard, curving his sharp jaw before he came closer to you, to place a kiss on your forehead.

He held onto you very strongly.

“I'm so happy and so ….” He looked away for a moment.

“Relieved?”

“Yes.” He replied, looking back into your eyes.

Your soft lips marked his right cheek with a kiss.

“How could I possibly say no to you, you are all I wanted and more.”

“You're exaggerating.”

“I'm not. You're the loveliest man I know and have ever known. On top of that, you're the best friend one could have and absolute husband material.”

He was startled.

“Hus-”

You cut him off with another kiss, slightly biting his lower lip.

This wasn't the last kiss of it's kind that night. The day began with Hanzo in your mind and ended with him by your side.

Extra :

Hanzo looked at his laptop screen in anger of not finding what he was looking for , before taking a look at the time and hurriedly putting on his clothes. His phone rang and he cursed whoever was calling in that moment of a rush.

“Hey Genji I'm busy , can I call you back later?”

“It's only a small question Hanzo.”

SIGH

“Yes?”

“You're planning to move out of your current apartment? Why? And why into a place so big? Is there anything I need to know?”

“How ...”

“You were still logged in on my PC so your browser history showed up while I was trying to find a website. I can't because the list is full of houses....Now tell me why you want to move into a house so big on your own?”

“Genji I ….

Me and (Y/N) are dating now.”

there was a small moment of silence before his brother bursted out loud cheers.

“FINALLY! Me and mum and everyone else have been waiting forever! Took you long enough to confess. Or her, I doubt it was you.”

Genji laughed and Hanzo snarled annoyed.

“What do you mean mom and the others? And what do you mean forever? Also I should let you know I asked her out after spending a really nice date with her, don't you dare ridicule me like that.”

“You took her out on a fancy date? Are you really my nerdy brother who only knows work and studies?”

“Yes and I am gonna be late to my next fancy date with her if you don't answer my questions and make it quick!”

“I can't believe you didn't know, that we were all waiting for the two of you to finally find each other. I always wanted to drop hints and lecture you about how to finally approach her, back in high school but mother told me to let it happen naturally. She probably cursed herself secretly when she saw, how nothing happened over the many years.” Genji laughed again.

“Well congratulations, you two wanted me to engage romantically with my best friend, now what is it about the others?”

“Oh not just us two, the entire class felt like you guys would marry one day. Or do you think it was a coincidence, that you were supposed to play the main roles in the play in eleventh grade?! You didn't get the role for your honourable acting skills brother.“

Embarrassed, Hanzo walked past his wardrobe as he forgot his watch on his desk, stopping at your high school graduation picture.

“Hanzo ? H e l l o ?”

“Yes, yes sorry, I got to go now, I'll call you tomorrow alright?”

“Yes, I'll be waiting, ….gosh I can't wait to tell mum, she will probably cry. Bye Brother!”

“Bye.”

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