#sorry about the low quality pics my house is REALLY small and i don’t have a great picture area rip | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nashibirne · 3 years

Text

DESPERADO - 4

Ready for the next part of Desperado? Here it is. You will learn about Helen's past and August's feelings but it's pretty emotional and angsty so I hope you still like it. Let me know and leave me a comment, reblog or like 💜

Pairing: Augut Walker x OFC (Helen Nichols)

Summary: August has survived the fight with Ethan Hunt and the fall from the cliff. A few lucky coincidences saved his life and he ends up with a woman that saves him and gives him shelter in her little hermit hut. He is at a turning point in his life. What is he going to do?

Word count: ~ 3.3 k

Warnings: A lot of angst, mentioning of death and grief, mentioning of sex

UNBETA'ED! English is not my mother tongue, so expect bad grammar, wrong spelling, chaotic punctuation and clumsy language. All mistakes are mine…

Credits: I don’t own August Walker and anything related to MI:Fallout. Pics for the moodboard from pinterest, face claim Helen: Rooney Mara

You can find parts 1 to 3 and my other fics on my masterlist.

Taglist (please let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabrobro @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81 @emelinelovesjc @wheretheriversrunintothesea @lam0ureuxq

*************

Don't your feet get cold in the wintertime?

The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine

It's hard to tell the nighttime from the day

You're losin' all your highs and lows

Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?

From Desperado by The Eagles, Lyrics: Don Henley, Glenn Frey

August soon lost count. They had sex often after he had been able to dispel Helen's worries regarding protection by revealing that he had a vasectomy years ago. So they fucked almost every day, but Helen wasn't up for more than foreplay and the sex itself. It was always the same, when they were done she got up to take a shower before going on with her daily tasks and it left him feeling strangely used and empty.

After their first time he had mentioned that the folding bed seemed to be an unnecessary loan now and Helen's reaction had left him speechless. She had laughed out loud.

"I don't think so. I'm not planning on sharing the bed with you...August." His real name just wouldn't flow smoothly from her lips at this time.

"Why not? We've just fucked."

"That's sex, just physical. Sharing a bed is intimate. It requires trust and I'm sorry but I can't trust you as long as you don't tell me who you are and what you're involved in."

"I'm not going to rape or murder you in your sleep", he snorted, rolling his eyes.

"I know, but still…"

And so, since he still hadn't told her the truth about August "The Hammer" Walker and John Lark, they fucked but they didn't sleep together. August found it quite ridiculous but he couldn't do much but accept it. He just wasn't willing to reveal the dirty truth, even after Helen had finally told him about the FBI guy that had nosed around in the village and about that file that proved that his enemies considered him to be dead. He was too scared she would kick him out of her house and out of her life. He wasn't ready to lose her. Not yet.

Instead he got accustomed to the situation and in the next weeks they established a domestic routine that was new to both of them. Helen usually worked in the mornings. She was a journalist and writer and to his surprise August found out that in fact she was a bestselling author. She had published three books so far. One about her hermit life in Kashmir, one about the region as a destination for backpackers and an illustrated book that was dedicated to the beautiful nature in the Dachigam National Park and all three of them had been pretty successful in the US. So she worked on her new book till noon almost every day and August worked on his recovery, doing all kinds of exercises indoors and outdoors.

After lunch they did anything that had to be done around the house and Helen often left for a walk to collect berries and mushrooms or to take photos in the afternoon. August usually read a book when she was gone but on this day he decided to join her. He had done some runs in a small radius around the hut but he had never really explored the surroundings and he felt like missing out on something. Plus, if he was honest with himself, he wanted to spend some time with Helen. Quality time.

So they strolled through the woods on this beautiful, sunny day, enjoying the warmth of the sun and a light breeze that chilled their cheeks. Helen took a bunch of pictures, concentrating on moss and lichens that grew on giant rocks and gnarled, old trees. August was waiting for her to take a shot of an overgrown branch, leaning against a rock wall, his face turned towards the sun, his eyes closed. "Stay exactly like this." Helens soft voice made him smile but when he heard her camera click he opened his eyes with a frown. "What are you doing?" He turned his face away from her and started to walk on. "Taking pictures of you. You looked great in that light, all lost in thought." She jogged a few steps to keep up with him. "Oh yeah", he snorted, "I'm sure I looked like a supermodel." She stopped him by tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. "You looked like yourself. Confident and very handsome." Her smile touched him in a way that made his stomach flip and he really didn't know how to reply to her compliment. He just gave her a helpless smile and Helen placed a hand on his burnt temple, giving him a tender smile in return. August grinned the awkwardness away and when he turned around his eyes fell on a huge rock that was completely flat on the top , building a natural lookout point over the region. "Look", he said pointing upwards, "the view from up there must be fantastic."

"Yeah. Maybe." Helen gave him a look he couldn't really read. "Let's just go back home, okay?"

"First I wanna go up there." August ran his hands over the rough surface of the stones, glancing up to figure out the best way to climb the cliff.

"No, that's a bad idea, August. It's too dangerous, and your ankle…"

"My ankle is fine, Helen. It's been more than 8 weeks now. It's completely cured."

"Still... you're not a climber, you could get hurt." She sounded strangely anxious and August had no idea why. The cliff was very rocky, so that natural steps could easily be found and it wasn't very high. It didn't seem to be dangerous at all.

"You don't have to join me. I'll climb up quickly and will be back in a few minutes. You can take pictures of me conquering the mountain." He winked at her before he put a foot on a ledge and started to climb.

"No! August, please…" Helen yelled at him, the despair in her voice making him stop immediately. He turned to Helen with a frown. "I'll be carful, I promise."

"No! Don't do this. Please don't." She sank down on her knees, sobbing, staring at him pleadingly, her voice weak and trembling. August hopped off the rock and kneeled down beside her, taking her in his arms. She was crying now, hiding her face in her hands.

"Helen, calm down. I'm here, I won't climb, okay?" She wasn't able to answer, she just clinged to his body, weeping uncontrollably. He hugged her in a tight embrace, cradling her, rocking her trembling body gently back and forth. To his own surprise it didn't feel awkward or forced, it felt natural, he wanted to comfort her, he wanted to hold her and to be the one to make her feel safe and sound and all this made him realize that he had slowly and somehow unnoticed fallen for her.

He'd been in love before, of course, he hadn't always been a bitter, cold-hearted jerk, but that was years ago in what felt like a different life. So August Walker knew love but with time he had forgotten about the sensation, after far too many disappointments in his life, not only in love but mainly in his job, he had pushed all positive emotions aside and his heart had gone numb before turning into a stone. It seemed like Helen, with her tough, aloof but captivating and caring personality, was able to touch his heart, to make him feel again, to make him love again. The thought alone scared the fuck out of him but now was not the time to worry about himself, now it was time to take care of Helen.

"Shhh... it's okay. Everything is fine, Henny." He'd never called her that before, it was his secret nickname for her, he just used it in his thoughts, and when she heard it she lifted her head to look at him with a hint of a smile, her eyes still overflowing with tears. "I'm sorry," she sobbed.

"No need to be sorry. Just try to calm down." He smiled at her tenderly and gave her hair some soft strokes, still holding her in his arms. When Helen started to relax and her breath went back to normal, August pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Helen gave him a sheepish grin. "I guess you think I'm totally nuts now." She blushed a little and August gave her a wink. "Don't worry. I've seen worse."

They didn't talk for several minutes, they just sat on the ground in the sun, snuggled up to each other.

"It's because of Allison", Helen broke the silence eventually, "she died like this."

"She died climbing?" August asked softly and Helen nodded, a sad look on her face. "Yes, and it was my fault."

"You said she died in an accident."

"Yeah, but it was still my fault."

"Tell me about it", August asked and after a short moment of hesitation Helen took a deep breath and started to talk. She told him how she and Allison had been on a backpack trip 8 years ago, both of them working for a travel magazine, preparing a report about Jammu and Kashmir, Helen as the writer, Allison as the photographer. They had stayed in the hut Helen lived in now, doing day trips to explore the region. Helen had heard of a special spot, a mountain that not only offered a spectacular view on a hidden lake but that also was kind of a biotope, a habitat for rare plants she wanted to write about. Allison had been hesitant about the idea of going there because they both were hikers, not climbers but Helen had persuaded her. When they had reached a plateau just below the top of the mountain Helen had backed out at the sight of the steep, exposed mountain ridge they would have to manage to get to the summit. She had refused to go any further but Allison wasn't willing to give up so close to their goal. Helen had begged her not to do it but Allison had insisted on trying. She had climbed only a few yards when she'd lost balance.

"I'll never forget the surprised sound she made when she fell. She hit a rock, hurting her head and she broke her back when she landed on the rocky ground of the plateau. It was terrifying." Helen was crying again, softly this time. August took her hand to soothe her and it seemed to work. She was able to talk again. "There was nothing I could do for her besides holding her hand. She had a fractured skull and internal bleeding. She died in my arms."

"I'm so sorry, Helen. That must have been dreadful", he squeezed her hand and he truly felt the sympathy that was showing in his eyes, "but this wasn't your fault. It was an accident."

"An accident that wouldn't have happened if I hadn't made her go on this stupid trip."

"You didn't know that it was dangerous. And it was her decision to climb on the ridge." August's voice was soft and tender and Helen was grateful for his sensitivity and his kind words. She rested her head against his chest with a sigh. "I know. The rational part of me knows that, but the irrational parts of my mind will never stop feeling that dreadful guilt. I just can't shake it off."

"Yeah, I know the feeling." August smiled at her and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Why did you stay?"

"I stayed because I needed a safe space to process what had happened and to mourn. I wanted to return to Maine when I felt ready to face the world again…"

"But you're still here."

"Yeah, I grew to like my hermit life and I fell in love with a man who helped me to deal with this tragedy. And so I decided to stay for good."

"Naseer?" August guessed.

"Yes. He was such a great support. He was always there for me, helped me to buy the hut, to renovate and furnish it according to my taste but our love didn't last. In the long run he wanted me to move to his farm, to become his wife and mother to his children, to live a traditional life as a married couple. But that wasn't my dream, not my vision of my future."

"But you're still friends."

"We are. Now. It took us a few years but after his wedding we found a way to leave the past behind and become friends. He's my only friend actually."

"No, he's not", August said softly and Helen gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you. For...all this. Listening and comforting me...and, well." She shrugged, blushing, gesturing vaguely at him and her and their surroundings.

"Of course. You took good care of me, today I take care of you, okay? Just tell me what you need."

Helen nodded. "I want to go home. Let's go back and watch a movie?"

"Sure. Haven't watched a movie in ages."

They got up and walked back to the house and Helen felt strangely happy when she linked arms with him and he let it happen. She knew it was foolish to become emotionally involved with a man she knew close to nothing about, who hid every personal information from her, who was bossy and cocky and way too stubborn for his own good, but she still couldn't help it. She was falling for August Walker and there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn't the sex, not only. He was a great lover, sure, experienced and skilled but what she really liked about him besides that physical component was his dry sense of humor, his cleverness, his confidence, his dignity and his passion. The way he had fought himself back to life, his willpower, the determination to work on his recovery as soon as he was able to leave the bed, ignoring all pain and exhaustion, had shown her that he was a fighter, a survivor. A strong, protective man she was so attracted to, it really scared her and it was also pretty embarrassing that she was so turned on by his alpha male vibes and the caveman attitude. But there was more to him. He had this broody, emotional side too and she was sure deep down inside he was pretty sensitive and maybe even warm hearted. And so over the weeks she had grown feelings for him, she'd tried to fight hard but unsuccessfully. Each time she went to the bathroom after having sex with August, it was a kind of helpless and futile attempt to wash away her emotions and pour the loving feelings down the drain. Unfortunately it never took more than one look into his eyes to resurrect them.

An hour later August and Helen were sitting on her couch in front of the TV, sharing a blanket and a plate with fruits and berries, waiting for the movie to begin. She had chosen a film called "The Shape of Water" he had never heard of before. The cover of the DVD was pretty strange, showing a couple hugging under water, the woman looking ordinary but her partner seemed to be some kind of fishman.

"It's a great movie," Helen said not for the first time, "very moving and romantic. The female protagonist is an outsider, a mute cleaner in a lab and she falls in love with an amphibian man."

It turned out she was right. The film was amazing and it left August extremely touched and with many questions running around in his head. They were eating the last berries, discussing the end of the movie, when he blurted out what he desperately needed to know.

"Could you fall in love with a monster?"

"He's not a monster. Not to Elisa."

"But everyone considers him to be one."

"Yes, because they don't understand him and his nature, they don't even try. But she does and she knows what lies underneath his spiky appearance."

"So you could? Fall in love with a man who is considered to be a bad man, an enemy, an unscrupulous monster?"

Helen looked him in the eyes, taking her time to answer. "If he was honest with me...if he let me see who he really is...if he explained himself to me and let me draw my own conclusions. Yes, under these conditions, I could fall in love with a monster. I'd rather have an honest monster than a lying saint."

August closed his eyes with a sigh that was full of relief but also filled with fear.

"Well, then let this monster tell you its story."

"You're not a monster…", Helen turned to look at him with a deep frown.

"No, Helen, please. Just listen, okay? And then -as you said- you can draw your own conclusions."

She gave him a nod and August started to talk. He told Helen about his loveless childhood with physically and emotionally absent parents, his youth as the time he gained recognition for being an extraordinarily good athlete and how it turned him into a confident, popular jock. His career at the CIA, his life as an agent, doing all the dirty jobs efficiently, eliminating public enemies indiscriminately and without asking questions in the first years. He admitted that he was nothing less than an authorized assassin legitimized by the state and he described how he got more and more frustrated with time, questioning his job, the national authorities and politics. He pointed out to her that his disillusionment, the years of frustration and the feeling of being caught in an unjust and outdated machinery culminated in following the ideas of Solomon Lane and finally in writing a manifesto under the pseudonym of John Lark. The hardest part was to confess that he had planned on eliminating one third of mankind by letting off a nuclear bomb in the mountains of Kashmir to alter things for the better. After he had ended with telling Helen about Ethan Hunt and their fight he was anxiously waiting for her reaction, not daring to look at her.

She didn't say anything for a very long time. When she finally started to speak, her voice sounded weak. "You would have killed me and all the wonderful people in this valley without the blink of an eye if Ethan Hunt hadn't stopped you?"

"Yes."

Helen nodded.

"I see. And if you had another chance, would you try again? Do you still stand by what you wrote in that manifesto?"

"No. I don't. Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"I've had a lot of time to think about it during the last weeks and I lost my conviction. You've shown me another side of life, of thinking. You have made me feel again. Feelings I haven't had for the longest time. Feelings of love, Helen." August almost whispered the last words, scared of her reaction but Helen just nodded again, her face blank, her expression unreadable.

"Say something, Helen. Please." He took her hand but she pulled away.

"I can't, August. Not yet. I need time to process all you've just told me. I need some time on my own."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm going to return the folding bed to Naseer tonight and I'm going to ask him if I can stay with him and his family for a few days because I don't feel well and don't want to be alone. I'll return when I've made up my mind and when I have we won't need a second bed anymore. One way or another."

*****

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker x ofc

98 notes · View notes

eutaerpe · 4 years

Text

the escapades (m)

pairing — jimin x reader

genre/warnings— smut (oral, fingering, orgasm denial) & college!au, fratboy!jimin, brief e2l, brief ewb, acr universe

summary — the one where there’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension, until there isn’t.

notes — 8.3k words of the happiness before the storm i couldn’t write. i realised halfway through this there’s a slight plotwise change in comparison to what i wrote in acr so. yeah. sorry. kudos to you if you find it lol

The first time it happens, you’re pretending to be someone you’re not.

You’re sitting near the end of the table, crossing your legs and playing with the hem of your dress, your lips twisted into a frown. The real reason lying behind the simple decision of having a single, almost infinite table of guests doesn’t, in the slightest, cross your mind; why your idiotic brother would see this as a delightful idea really is above you, but you suppose the valuable genes in the family runs all in your DNA.

You’re playing with the table decorations while waiting for the guests to come, and it’s so fucking boring you regret telling Seulgi no, babe, what the fuck - you even shook your head and decided to sound extra mad at the idea - I won’t sneak in weed.

Too bad for you, she had answered, a cute pout on her lips, I’ll give you an hour before you’re bored out of your mind.

The truth hangs above your head, with a sheepish grin: you just needed ten minutes to be absolutely, drastically bored.

In hindsight, sneaking in weed wouldn’t have been the worst idea: your mother is talking to the in laws, gesticulating excitedly at the idea of kids right after marriage. What the fuck, you text Seulgi, at home trying to get out of bed, my brother has been married for an hour and there’s already baby talk going on at the table.

Seulgi

[12.49]

With the baby talk comes the dick talk

You

[12.49]

Oh no the dick talk

Seulgi

[12.50]

man how can you survive your relatives talking about nonexistent boyfriends without my weed, damn???

You

[12.50]

option a: I’ll tell them I’m dating you

Seulgi

[12.50]

we kissed ONE time

You

[12.50]

option b: I’ll tell them I’m in a relationship with Jeon jungkook

Seulgi

[12.50]

bitch we both know you’re not in a relationship with the hottest guy on campus. he has dimples and long hair and piercings. my sources can even confirm he has a big dick. what do U Have

You

[12.51]

i was talking about my vibrator but go off lmao

anyway I’ve had that D ;)

Seulgi

[12.51]

you’re officially cancelled

when did this happen? I can’t believe you’re telling me over text!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You

[12.51]

last semester!!!!! why do you think I’ve named my vib after him!!!!!!

Seulgi

[12.52]

because you’re lusting after him like the rest of us mortals!!!!!!!!!!

You

[12.52]

I’ve upgraded since then. I’ve leveled up. I’ve seen things People Can’t Even Imagine

Seulgi

[12.52]

just say he got u off and go

You

[12.52]

anyway option c: I scare them away by saying controversial things. Id est: I don’t believe in love. I am choosing my partner solely judging their abilities to finger me under a table when people are around. I am secretly lusting after my brother’s wife. I am trying to get impregnated like in The Sims 2 aka I am waiting for that alien dick.

Seulgi

[12.52]

hate to break it to you babe but that’s literally who you are

You

[12.52]

I literally compliment joohyun’s boobs once and this is the treatment I get

Seulgi

[12.52]

are we not gonna talk about your alien dick kink

You

[12.52]

no kink shaming in this house lady

option d: I listen to their complaints and run

Seulgi

[12.53]

option dick

man sorry I meant option d

You

[12.53]

you didn’t

Seulgi

[12.54]

ur right I didn’t

Option e, also known as I’ll entertain the other guests so I don’t have to talk to you, presents itself in the form of one very hot, very ripped young man sporting the most expensive shirt in the room. You’re only human when you admit to yourself, mental sigh, that he ticked all the let’s get y/n horny requirements in less than fifteen seconds.

You can’t believe Joohyun has kept him hidden for so long from you. Such betrayal ends when your brother, Kim fucking Seokjin, hugs him tight and brushes with utter affection the nape of his neck, gracing him with a warm smile and a heartfelt laugh.

You can’t believe Seokjin has kept him hidden for so long from you.

Well. Scratch that. You can.

Suddenly, the ticked requirements disappear and a giant neon sentence with a very cheap background music impose themselves in your head. WHAT A TURN OFF! they read, the neon red words mocking you; you steal a glance at your brother’s acquaintance one more time - one last time - before slipping your phone in your hands and dedicating yourself one more time at your Instagram feed, scrolling through the most recent pics.

(You stumble upon an extremely rare Jungkook selfie, and you hate to admit you spend the following thirty seconds admiring him before tapping twice on the quality content you’ve signed up for when you joined the social)

You suppose that, even though your brother’s friends with fuckboy tendencies are signed off your let’s get to know each other better ;) list, it doesn’t mean the same goes for them.

So, when the dark-haired young man with a jawline sharper than Seulgi’s retorts after her third beer sits next to you, you reckon you shouldn’t be that surprised.

He acts all casual, you notice while discreetly looking at him; he’s busy taking off his jacket and flexing his muscles, all of this while pretending not to notice you, and you find it immensely cute.

Ah, fuckboys.

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips twisted in a crooked smile, “I didn’t think it would be this hot today.”

“Yeah, sorry, the heat is on me.”

He chuckles in disbelief at your words, eyes turning into crescents.

“Right, there’s always the girl stealing the bride’s spotlight at weddings.”

“Oh! That’s me,” you nod enthusiastically, “That’s one hundred percent me.”

“Groom or bride?” He asks, pointing at the couple with his chin.

“What do you think?”

He looks at you funny, pressing his back on the seat, pondering in silence. Cute.

“Bride. One of Bae’s sorority sisters, maybe? You seem too young to be her age, though.”

“Damn,” you exhale, crossing your arms under your chest, “I can’t believe you got it all wrong. The expectations were low, but I’m still disappointed.”

He ducks his head, still smiling. “Then it’s the groom. How do you know Seokjin?”

Your eyes twinkle with excitement at your next words, but honestly, who can blame you? You’re having fun with this lost, cute chick.

“What’s your take, officer?”

He erupts into a laugh, and you drink in his handsome features; fuck you, Seokjin, for being friends with fuckboys only.

“Alright,” he punches the bridge of his nose, scanning the room, which is slowly filling with other guests. “I’m his friend, and I know all of his friends, which can only mean one thing: option a, you’re one of his ex-girlfriends; option b, you’re one of his secret hook-ups; option c, you’re an old friend from high school.”

“Oooh,” you beam, unrealistically intrigued, “You really suck at guessing, don’t you?”

He laughs, passing a hand through his dark locks, messing his perfectly styled hair. “Ok, fair. Which one was the closest, then?”

“Option d, of course.” You nod, relaxing your features into a sheepish grin, “I’m his much more beautiful and smarter sister.”

You exam his face, now twisting into some sort of what the fuck, such betrayal look, and you take in, for the last time – really the last, this time – his attractive, sculptured face, his full lips, the smoothness of his skin. It’s awful and unfair knowing you two won’t cross paths ever again in your lives, but at least you had some fun messing with him before things could worsen.

“I’ll be sitting in the middle of the table, with my family, if you want to avoid me.”

You wink at him for good measure, and you swear to god he blushes.

Half a wine bottle and two flutes of prosecco down, you realise you underestimated your resident fuckboy.

It happens when you’re grabbing your napkin and channelling your dreamy, happy looks towards the newlyweds, dancing in the middle of the room, their eyes gravitating only towards the love of their lives.

You sigh, pouting for the smallest of fractions, when you feel someone sitting at your side.

“You know,” Fuckboy begins, and you picture him licking his lips as he pauses, “Now I get why he never told us anything more than: I’m not an only child.”

“I know,” you exhale, turning to face him, “Seokwon is the real catch of our family. We’re really protective of him.”

“He’s married. With kids.”

“I was there when the twins opened their eyes, thank you.”

“We thought you were either a small kid or a forty years old woman.”

“Wait,” you tilt your head, “How did you know about us then? And who’s we?”

“We dug into his stuff and he caved in, admitting he had a brother and a sister.” Fuckboy looks at you, eyes dark but reflecting the dim lights of the function room, “Us. The frat guys.”

“Right, the fuckboys.”

He looks taken aback by your statement, bewildered, and you take advantage of his reaction to stand up and head away from him. It’s his words that stop you from doing so, though.

“You don’t know us—”

“—except I do know your pledges and your brothers.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “I prefer to steer away from my brother’s friends, though.”

“Right,” he says, tightening his lips in a hard line, almost hurt, “So, who am I to interfere with your judgmental thinking?” He clicks his tongue, then, a resolute exhale slipping past his lips, smothered by his own tingling despair.

The words hurt.

You don’t know what exactly pinched your senses hard, if the tone or the wallowing sadness swimming in his expression, but, as he stands up and leaves, you’re left facing the cold, hard truth.

The words hurt, you hurt, and you feel guilty.

You say nothing, glancing in the direction of the first alcoholic beverage around, and you fill yourself a glass.

Had it been someone else – had it been another sentence, another less sickening scenario, you would’ve felt proud, righteous. You’re, instead, on the other side of the feelings spectrum, all filled with crippling guilt and a nauseous, pervasive feeling you can’t quite name and pin down.

The guests are dancing around you, moving hand in hand to the rhythm of the pop love song now playing; the ballroom is packed when you let your impulsive side make a choice, eyes following the guy’s composed figure. You can drastically feel the sweat, and the heat the people are radiating, when you stand up and move towards him, the only smiling boy passing his glass from a hand to the other.

You’re close enough to tap his wrist and brush your fingers, which you do; it elicits a gasp from him, all soft, not scathing around the edges yet able to bite you, anyway. It’s the guilt, you remind yourself, looking for a sign of some sort of inclination to accept your apologies between the crease of his brows and tight jaw, and everywhere in between.

It’s sickening—this boy didn’t exist four fucking hours ago. It didn’t even cross your wildest dreams, someone like him. His shape – his silhouette – has left a print in your mind, and no matter how hard you try focusing on something else, someone else, your mind keeps going back to the shape itself.

But you’re a coward, so, while he lets you intertwine your fingers, you admit, voice loud: “I wanna dance.”

He handles you properly, kindly, before pushing you in the crowd and brushing your hips with his hands, all rings and jewellery adorning them.

He blinks twice, biting the insides of his mouth, but he manages,

“Who says I wanna dance?”

Which is a bit stupid, or hypocritic if you might, because he’s swaying you to the rhythm of a ballad the pop love song turned into. You break into the smallest of smiles.

“I want to apologize.”

He scoffs. “I don’t know you,” he says, funnily enough, “But that seems almost unlikely, coming from you.”

“Yeah, you got me there, officer. I was, uhm,” you stare blatantly at his neck, and you suppress the desire to stroke your fingers’ pads on his soft skin, “I was out of line. I’m sorry. You were right, I don’t know you. I do know your frat brothers, my own brother, but that doesn’t mean I know you.”

He hums, moving for a small fraction of instants his thumbs on your hips and it’s enough for your breath to catch into your own throat. He nods, which could mean anything, from I accept your apology to go fuck yourself, this is bullshit. You prefer the former option, if you’re being honest, which is the answer you settle for in your head, hazed and absolutely hazed and madly hazed because of his small physical contact.

To put this into the simplest terms, Seulgi’s words, you don’t like this.

“I like dancing,” his eyes tower you and gaze at the other people dancing; you wonder if he’s thinking about them, who they are to you, what role they played in Seokjin’s life, if they’ll show up to your wedding, too. These thoughts popped into your mind unannounced, before, at the table, before the not-really-fuckboy sat next to you and made you feel guilty. Such absurdity; yet here you are, in his arms. Oh god, what would Seulgi think of you if she saw you?

“Good to know, I’m awful at shoulder-hips coordination.”

“Shoulder-hips coordination?” he inquiries, lips parted.

“Uh, body rolls?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, “I see, you mean classy grinding.”

“I don’t do classy grinding, sorry,” you retort, head tilted to a side.

His smile his amused. “Too bad, shoulder-hips coordination is a nice trait to exhibit sometimes.”

“I prefer hips coordination. Well, hips rotation.”

“Hips rotation?”

“Riding? Is the term somehow unfamiliar to you?”

He flushes, biting back a grin and fixing his gaze somewhere in the crowd. How cute.

“Not at all, it’s nice to meet a hips rotation enthusiast here, though.”

“Statistics say at least a member in each family is a riding enthusiast, did you know?”

“Shit, talk dirty to me,” he licks his lips, pointing at Jin with his chin, “Didn’t peg him for a rider, though. Not at all.”

“I’m starting to think you’re not a STEM major, are you? You’re lacking basic intuition, my friend.”

“Is this your attempt of discovering my major?” – he eyes you, a flick of amusement burning in his orbs – “You’re not very smooth, you know?”

“I have my moments.”

He snorts, placing both hands on the small of your back. You’re at height level with the base of his neck, and it’s fun how your mind betrays you in such moments, providing mental images of your nose brushing against his skin, and you nuzzling in the crook of his neck. Such taunting, invasive pictures. Fuck off, you reprimand your own mind, fuck off.

“I’m Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you taste the name on your tongue, hitting the back of your front teeth. “Jin never talked about you. I’m Y/N.”

“Jin never talked about you either.”

“Of course he never did, I’m prettier than he is.”

His little dimples make an appearance. “You know, you could really steal the bride’s spotlight.”

“That was my ultimate goal all along, even though I prefer the dark side.”

“I,” he licks his lips, and you don’t know why you’re following the gesture, “I meant to say you’re beautiful.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, eyebrows raising, “Are you a charmer?”

“I mean,” he begins, sheepish smile on display, “I never kiss and tell.”

“Touching.” He smirks. “How sweet of you.”

“You know what else is sweet?”

“Please,” you beg, meeting his eyes, “Don’t say my pussy.”

“Please,” he repeats, same mocking tone, “The possibilities are endless. Your mouth,” he scoots closer, words whispered on the shell of your ear, “Your mouth around my dick,” he almost nibbles your ear, “Your mouth screaming my name.”

“My pussy,” you add, trying not to lose your mind.

“I would never call sweet something I’ve not tasted.”

He raises a brow.

“Are you offering? You’re not very smooth, you know?”

He ignores the last question, tightening his grip. “In the middle of your brother’s wedding? Seokjin’s wedding? I’m not a dick, even though you sitting on my face would be a sight to see.”

“Right?” your voice doesn’t falter for a second, “That’s what I always say”

“Nice to see how we’ve got much in common. But I was thinking of something else, actually—” His face is once again inches away from yours, ear to mouth, hot breath fanning over you bare neck. “I wanna finger you.”

Oh.

“Under the table. Right behind you. Wanna make you whimper.”

It’s almost like being tongue-tied, fumbling for words, body flushing, but you gather somewhere the strength to form an actual sentence, which makes him smirk devilishly.

“I can be very quiet.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Bet you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut.”

“When I win,” you say, lying your words on an unrealistically high vote of confidence, even for yourself, “What do I get?”

He licks his lips, slow, savouring the moment. “You get to ride my face.”

“Not your dick?”

“I’m not a fuckboy, baby.”

A comeback of some kind is already on your tongue, but – there’s a kiss somewhere in the following seconds, all wet and tingling and perhaps filled with too many lip bites, but he can’t really blame you when you’ve been brushing your thighs together for the past minute, heat pooling down your belly. It’s enough for you to silently pledge for more, and for him to tease, because he takes a step back, smirk in place and lips reddened, and guides you towards his seat at the end of the table with a hand on the small of your back.

Downhill begins as soon as you sit down, legs barely parted, a minimum space not fitting for his plans, apparently, because the crease between Jimin’s eyebrows grows when he nudges them apart with his hand, the cold metal of his rings cooling down your flushed state. You want to gasp at the sudden intrusion, but the sound is swallowed entirely by his hot mouth on yours, distracting once again, incredibly soft and alluring. This kiss is slow, this time, like he’s taking his time tasting you and learning about the hums he draws out of you, the shyness of your previously biting tongue, and how fast you get lost in the kiss itself. You press a chaste kiss on his mouth, before creaking a space between you.

“I’m starting to think you’re all bark and no bite”

He doesn’t answer, but stares into your eyes with his hooded gaze, and he manages to sneak a hand furtively under your dress not breaking the contact. His skin is warm, but you’re warmer, and his destination is even hotter. He cocks his head, fingers brushing against the soaked, sticking material you used to call panties up until fifteen minutes ago, and he must notice—his eyes grow wider, his jaw tightens and his hand gains courage.

Fuck. This should be embarrassing, getting worked up over dirty innuendos and a kiss or two, but you’re instead feeling flushed and more. More sensitive. More open to the idea of him ruining you, even though that’s not what he’s offering. Or— is he?

The question lies unanswered when his digits rub with a sparkled intensity over both your clothed sex and your inner thighs. It’s a continuous, mellifluous melody, his fingers dancing between the two until he settles on your panties only, and that’s when you almost let out a soft moan; you don’t, he raises his brow, challenging, but you don’t, and instead glance around to notice if someone has his eyes on the both of you, sitting in the furthest region of the fucking smart, endless table.

He raises the stake, flushed: Jimin pushes your panties on one side, petting with his index your exposed self, and you suck in a breath. He continues to do so, face still, closing the distance between you two.

You don’t question the sudden kiss, instead you angle your face and close your eyes and let him press his lips on you. This feels like being drunk, or high, stretching underneath a sky dripping with stars. You cup his face with your hands, his lips so terribly soft and inviting, the smallest of smiles meeting your own chapped and curved upwards lips.

It’s when you’re merely inches away from him that he thumbs at your clit, sensitive and tingling, circling with utmost peace and no speed whatsoever. You pout at little, you realize, which makes him melt either cause of your cute frown -oh, how the tables have turned- or simply because he’s the devil himself, pressing a finger against your entrance and delving it into your heat.

“Cute,” he purrs, kissing you, “Is this okay?”

The crude, hot, nerve-wracking fingering has begun, which makes you, quickly enough, putty in his hands and ablaze with ardour for this man whose rasping voice could kill you.

“Yeah,” you breathe on his mouth, eyelids drooping closed, “Yeah, all good.”

You hum to yourself as he starts pressing kisses on your jaw and your neck, a trail of treacherous flames lighting up your skin, and you have the audacity to sigh under his ministrations, a tiny, strained sound not quite a mewl.

If he hears, he doesn’t show it. You’re biting your own lip when he enters a second finger, filling your searing emptiness.

“Want three?” he asks, voice husky and as desperate as you are under his touch. He adds it when you nod, the squelch louder than before, and you moan, rocking your hips against his fingers.

“Shh, baby,” he coos, placing his other hand on your hips, slowing your movements, “Be a good girl.”

He fucks you deep, fast, fingers clashing against the silky dress you’re wearing and sweat sparkling on his forehead. He swallows another moans of yours, sucking your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth. You’re close. You’re so close, and it’s only been a couple minutes. You can’t hear anything that isn’t your wet pussy clenching around his fingers, his rhythm ruthless and burning.

“Too bad you’re not coming on my fingers, today,” he says before kissing your neck and emptying your dripping pussy, then proceeding to taste and lick his own fingers in his mouth. He lets them out with a small pop, and it’s the most terrifying sight you’ve ever had in front of your almost watering eyes. “I’m sorry I won the bet, though, your pussy is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

That’s the high and dry story of how you first met Jimin.

The second time it happens, it’s under completely different circumstances, and, substantially, against your every predictions, it really happens. It takes place, like a once in a lifetime event: there’s an orgasm involved, not due to the very charming and never disappointing Jeon jungkook the robotic version, and instead it involves a rather attractive asshole with a persistent smirk plastered on his face.

Except it’s a lot more complicated than what it sounds, and most of it is Seulgi’s fault.

Your roommate had pouted all evening, because that’s what semi adults do when they’re denied a companion for the night.

“I just wanna get wasted. It’s been one hell of a month, and you know how I get when I’m stressed.”

“I can suggest you a vibrator and a bottle of vodka. Do you settle for that, your honor?”

“The more you talk like this,” all self-absorbed and assertive and cautiously, like when talking to a kid, she begins, hands in her long, mahogany hair, “the more I just wanna push you up against the wall.”

“Sounds to me you just wanna get laid.”

“Maybe I do,” she huffs, hands on her hips, the light of your abat-jour highlighting her golden skin. “Maybe I don’t. What I know is that I wanna get wasted. Come with me, pretty please?”

“Look,” you raise your eyes from the book you’ve been holding, stretching a leg onto the unmade bed of yours, “I just wanna get this fucking paper done. I need,” you grip the phone on the bed table, checking for the white, large numbers on your lock screen, “an hour. An hour and half to edit it and I’m all yours.”

“This paper is due on Thursday, though.”

“Yeah, but I have a reputation to uphold in the family. Have to be the most beautiful and successful.”

“You’re full of shit,” are her last words, muttered with a smile as she grabs her jacket.

“Hey,” you call, stretching your neck towards her, “I don’t care if it’s two am and you’re already wasted. Call me and I’ll come to you with a whole bottle of vodka to make it up to you. Hell, I’ll even kiss you goodnight.”

“I don’t wanna make out with you, you freak.”

“You didn’t say that last time, baby!”

Seulgi

[2.13]

wassup bitch

make out with meeeeeeeeeeeeee

[location shared]

com n get me littl nuggrt

Not Sober Seulgi is probably the worst Seulgi you have ever dealt with. You let out a sigh, eyeing the frat dorm all lit up and vibrating to the trashy trap music the insiders are jamming to.

Of course, when it comes to Not Sober Seulgi, there’s boys involved. Frat boys involved. At first, you don’t pay attention to the details, the signs, surrounding you like blinding traffic lights signalling stop stop stop, all red and striking. The thought doesn’t cross your mind, the dots connecting in some hidden part of your brain not making your insides short circuit—instead you’re knocking on the door, then banging on the very wooden entrance until a face shows up; the dorm is dimly lit, and the face is partially lightened by a soft, hued red and, that, too, Future You pinpoints, should have been a sign.

It’s useless, anyway, because you hear the insider talk and you’re burning instantly, like after touching a steaming, hot cup of coffee, except that bitter coffee is still good coffee. Smug Jimin plus bitter you isn’t really sweet, nor a match made in heaven. It’s chaotic, a caustic explosion, and you both know it, judging from the sharp smile he offers you, after blinking lazily at your figure.

“This is a mixer party only,” his soothing voice welcomes you, “Do you have an invite?”

You press your tongue on your teeth, mouth carefully closed.

“Yeah, from Hell, I’ve come to take a fallen angel.”

“Sorry to break it to you, oh-kind-lady, but we didn’t give any invite to poor, damned souls.”

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck about your policies, then,” you move towards the small space between the door and Jimin’s body, but he interferes, placing himself right between the two. “Look, I don’t give a single fuck about this party.”

“Yeah, it sure looks like it.”

You roll your eyes. “My friend is here. She’s most certainly not sober and I’ve come to pick her up. That’s it. Do you think I want to be here, among these drunk, perverted jocks?”

He turns around, stretching his neck, his eyes darting through the crowd, inhibited by alcohol, smelling like cheap beer and weed. The moment his eyes bore into yours, though, it’s terrifying; it’s a rustled reminder of Seokjin’s wedding Jimin, and you don’t like it. You loathe it. You dread it.

“Maybe only some of us.”

He tips his head, lips curving into a timid, small smile, and you tear your gaze from his lips in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, keep dreaming of it. I just want my friend back.” You point your chin towards the amalgam of drunk party animals, “I’ll leave you to your immensely interesting activities, then.”

“What if,” he begins, “You don’t. Or—even better scenario, you leave with me.”

“Best case scenario, I leave with my friend. You stay here.”

“What’s the worst-case scenario, then?”

You cock a brow at him, crossing your arms on your chest. “I leave with my friend, you stay here. Sometime before me leaving, you’re punched. Or kicked. I don’t know. There’s a high chance I’ll throw a drink on you.”

“That implies you’ll be here long enough to grab a drink, doesn’t it? And you don’t have to ruin my shirt to get me naked, babe. Just ask nicely.”

You huff, and you’re mildly tempted to shove him against a wall. Or ruin him. Not in the funny way. More like the high and dry way, the one he knows so well. “I changed my mind, I’ll kick you.”

“Ask nicely?” His teasing tone makes your cheeks flush, and you hope the shitplace with subdued lightening can cover it. His expression shifts into an arrogant one, full smirk and little dimples out, so your cute guess is that he can see. He sees his effect on you, albeit completely unwanted and full of hatred from your side, and he enjoys it. Actually lulls in it, letting out a small laugh which, in turn, makes his eyes turn into crescents, all warm and cute—all things he’s not. All things you know he’s not.

“Ask nicely,” you repeat, rolling the words on your tongue, “Okay, babe. Let’s do this, babe. What do you want from me, babe?”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe the answer is you?”

“Yes, actually,” you sigh, fingers brushing his neck, face comically close to his perfect, chiselled one, “That’s exactly what I thought when you stopped fingering me.”

“Right,” Jimin has the audacity to smile, craning his neck as if to close the distance between you in order to meet you for a kiss, “I’m a man of word, thought. You should be impressed.”

“I’m pretty sure the only thing that’s impressed is your face under the orgasm denial definition. Google it, babe, I guarantee you the meaning comes with your name and a brilliant review of one star.”

“Unlike you.” He licks his lips, eyes on your pretty pink ones, smeared with venom, “You’re not coming.” He explains, to further ignite your rage.

“And whose fault is that, babe?”

Jimin nuzzles into your neck, cupping your other cheek with his rough palm, and his thumb stills on your throat, right where your breath is stuck. He adds pressure on it, lips fondling your burning skin, his usual smirk plastered on them.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“You’re not fucking me,” you spit back, mouth now millimetres away from his, gently inviting you to kiss it, and cherish it, and biting it until you’re satisfied with the hot result.

“I’ll eat you out? Until you come.” He hums. “You’ll come.”

His voice is a mere strangled sound, wanting and dripping with need, and you snap out of it with a small smile.

“Nice offer,” your smile is wicked as you scrape his nape with a feathery touch, the slow movement rousing a flutter in your lower belly. “But get in line, babe.”

His shell-shocked face is the last thing you see before you fulfil the let’s rescue Seulgi! party.

(“Why do you smell like softener?” Seulgi sniffs you, arms looped loosely around your neck, eyes completely shut down. It’s a nice sight, all things considered. You’re no angel, no saint, no perfect person, but you’re a nice friend, and that’s probably the most Seokjin trait you recognize in yourself. It’s your shared apartment, and it’s past 3 am and you’re the one good friend who keeps her promises. “It’s strawberry vodka, you heathen.”)

The line turns out to be a real line, queue line, let’s get this coffee line, which, well. How can one word it, how can one phrase it fully catching the irony of it all, the distinctive je ne sais quoi of life without—

“Nice to see you here.”

It’s the perfect set for a rom-com, you notice, taking in the warm scenery around you. What else can one dream of, right? The campus coffee shop, the campus hot not-really-but-also-kinda fuckboy Jimin, partial jock to give him credit, full time attractive idiot with a tendency for orgasm denial. Really.

“What are the chances?” You exhale, voice devoid of emotions. For the sake of your parents’ integrity, you suppose, because they raised no impolite woman, of course, you turn around to face the angel-like human being, black hair partially covering his forehead, little dimples on full display. That’s—that is lack of integrity, or indecency or au-fucking-dacity. It might as well be a mix of the above-mentioned possibilities, all fitting and nurturing you because he’s gorgeous. He’s handsome. Jimin’s the most attractive human being you’ve ever seen in your life, and it’s not fair.

(Beside the fact that you’ve lived with Kim Seokjin, for fuck’s sake)

He pokes his own cheek, and you bask into the otherworldly scenario that takes place right in front of your caffeine deprived eyes. It’s a sight for sore, soft eyes, and it’s the end of the world as you know it, because it’s morning, too early to properly function like a normal human being, but there he is. There he is, Jimin, channelling his inner boyfriend material aura, oozing off boyfriend smell, nice, fresh, aftershave smell, rocking a stupid sweater and the messiest black mop of hair.

It’s honestly a tragedy, and you won’t stand for it. You will make a move—

“You’re squinting your eyes, like, real tight. Are you alright?”

Just ogling you, your drowsy mind offers, the fucking cheater.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing a lump in your dry throat, “Just need coffee. A latte. Anything.”

You move forward in the queue, and as you blink you realize it’s your turn, until it’s not anymore. Jimin carefully and gently moves you out of the way, brushing with the softest touch your side.

“A latte and an iced americano, please.”

The sweetened order for two turns into a hushed thank you, a tipped smile, a flutter of you heart. It’s drinks still half full, his curious gaze darting on your lips, your defences down. It’s unfair, because in a hot second all this pent-up tension shifts into a light, chaste kiss, your back pressed against the coffee shop’s restroom; your chest heaves under his tantalizing make-out session with your neck, followed by his frantic lips pressing on yours, his tongue licking lazily into your mouth, a gasp easing its way out of your warm and eager mouth. It’s a hot-blooded supercut, each frame announced by a starving moan, a content sigh, and, before you realise it, you’re on your bed, Jimin hovering on top of you.

It’s Saturday morning, you hum to yourself, fingers sliding into his hair, all’s in check. There’s a warm body slumped on yours, his tongue swerving on your lower lip and his hips shyly bucking between your open legs. Your panties are drenched, you can feel his hard on through the jeans and, really, all’s in check.

He nudges your nose with his. “Lemme eat you out.”

The answer lies sitting on the tip of your tongue, right next to an obnoxious remark that you hope will rile him up enough for him to rip your underwear, which you definitely won’t complain about. However, the words don’t come out, they slur in your craving mouth the second he gets up and shoves you toward the end of your unmade bed, spreading your naked legs open with his calloused palms.

“Nice skirt,” he comments, voice a rasp, eyeing the drenched, lilac underwear, skirt at this point gone up to cover your stomach. “I just want…”

He shuffles closer, enough for you to feel his hot breath on your core, and that’s when Jimin pulls the panties on a side, teasing you with little licks to your entrance. You’re responsive, too eager for anything to quench your thirst that you sigh happily at the barest of actions, gripping strands of his hair. Jimin chuckles, engulfing the throbbing clit in his mouth in one go and drawing desperate moans out of your cute, devilish mouth.

“Fuckboy move,” you emit, voice cracking at the pressure of his warm mouth, “Oh, oh. Fuck…”

He replies flattening his tongue on your core, then licking and lapping against your dripping folds. Jimin positively glows at the cries you let out, face slobbering with your arousal while driving you insane, fucking with his tongue like his life depended on it. It’s almost a spiritual experience, a crescendo of wails and sobs, his face drown in your pussy and his tongue paying reverence to your approaching orgasm. He can feel it in the way you writhe, in his hand splaying over your stomach, keeping you still while he eats you religiously, forehead beaded with sweat.

You come with a trembling hand in his hair, the other flicking your bare nipple, back slightly arched and a lewd mewl; Jimin takes in the way your body trembles, your breath all staggered because of him, and the sight alone is enough for him to cum in his pants with a grunt, completely untouched.

The second time it happens is, coincidentally, the first time Jimin knows there’s no turning back from this.

Complicated is a big word when it comes to relationship, you reckon, emitting something akin to a gasp, truly soap operas worthy material, but, for the first time in your life, you decide to name it this way.

Being with Jimin is… complicated, for starters. Especially because you’re not with Jimin, in the strict, relationship-wise meaning. He knows your favourite colour (“Why the fuck you only own purple underwear?” “It’s lilac, dick, watch your mouth.” “Watch your own mouth, babe. You’re the one on your knees.”), your favourite food (“But you like having your mouth stuffed with my cock, honey.” You sigh, blushing. “First of all, I’m talking about real food. That amazing steak kind of food—“

“I’ll show you real meat, babe.”

“Gross. Gross. How can I cancel the last five seconds of my life?”

“Come here, Jared, nineteen,” he half smiles, tilting his head, “I’ll get us fries.”), your favourite movie (“We can’t get each other off every time your ugly paper cap fits—oh,” you suck in a breath, Jimin flicking his tongue on your turgid nipple, “oh, god, don’t stop.”), your best friend’s name (“I condone you dicking her so good she sometimes cries, you know, I just don’t when I’m in the room next to hers and all I can hear is my best friend trying to formulate a single coherent word but failing because you’re pounding her mercilessly into the mattress.” Jimin chuckles, grabbing his jacket before holding the doorknob. “She begged, Seulgi.”)—so what? It’s not like you sat down and decided not to ask each other dumb questions, so that you could find out in the funny, kinky way. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even decide on anything, didn’t even talk about talking, because the relationship related shit didn’t even cross your mind.

It’s even quite fucking hard for it to cross it, because half the time you’re together you’re either both naked – except for the time he pleaded for the tartan mini to stay – or stuffing your mouth with food—because, if there’s something you’ve learned after one too many hook-ups with him is that this kind of sex requires strength. Like, actual, physical strength, if we’re not talking about the this test is draining me please fuck me until I can’t walk sex. Which, yeah, 10/10 would recommend. That was the day Seulgi decided to invest in ear plugs while muttering capitalism, here I come.

You also came.

Funnily enough, guess who also came. Not in the funny, kinky way. Think about the grossest thing, imagine the beyond the bounds of possibility, sprinkle it with Jimin earnestly shoving his dick down your throat, stir it with a poor Taehyung brushing his teeth next to the both of you, a step away from the shower, and serve it on the most expensive plate in the kitchen, a recipe not approved by Kim Seokjin.

Yeah, you mentally roll your eyes, licking your lips clean, at eye-level with your sorta enemy with benefits’ pretty dick: the married brother of yours, former fratboy, taller than your current will to live.

In hindsight, maybe it is Seokjin’s fault. Once you’re married, you’re supposed to be committed to the cause, and sometimes, an angry little crumb in you finds the audacity to speak, the cause is made up of your four walls: ergo home, ergo your married life, miles away from the absurdity that once filled his university days. You’re being hypocritical, you realize, skin wet, body trembling. In the simplest, most hedonistic terms, you’re done with the chaos in this fraternity and just wished that hooking up was easier. It’s more than a stolen orgasm, a random spur of pleasure and free de-stresser; it’s also something not quite like art but just as peculiar. Sex with Jimin is more than nice, more than a fast rummage of clothes on the floor and panties teared, or condoms stuffed in every single pocket of his jacket.

It should also be noticed that it’s been one hell of a stressful week, okay, which means that it’s one of those times you seek for naked intimacy, in its least literal meaning. You’re looking for something sure, something silent, something earnest. Jimin gives you that in the simplest of forms, in the easiest of ways. It’s not fair for your brother to come unannounced and burst into the house with his adorable laugh and love for his own brothers. Way to ruin the moment, bro.

Jimin blinks attentively when Taehyung laughs, clapping his hands all happy and following the elder’s voice outside the bathroom.

“I’m getting you my clothes.”

“Wait, what?”

His lips part just enough for his tongue to wet them, and your eyes follow in silence the gesture.

“I mean,” he starts, grabbing a towel, “You either come out with me from this bathroom or you don’t.”

He’s concise, yet harsh, words uttered with those soft lips yet are just as hot as a slap in your face. He’s telling the truth, but you soon find out you don’t really like it.

There’s something abrupt and severe in those chosen words, so well picked out because they’re not meant to hurt, but at the same time they’re so worrying. So terrible, practically as hard as a punch in your guts.

You either come out of the bathroom with him — you had been blowing minutes before, hadn’t you? Quite the intimacy, huh? — or you don’t. You stay behind. Different rooms, a whole door to separate you while he’s out with the people he cares about.

Seems legit, but. It’s unfair. You know Jimin isn’t choosing for you, but it’s obvious he’s inclined towards an option between the two, and you’re terrified to discover whether it’s his own desire pushing or what he thinks you want.

You, instead, push the thought aside when you nod, taking the towel from his hands and covering your body from this terrific half hook-up.

Because that’s what it is—that’s what you are.

It dawns upon you like a cold breeze hitting your face in full December, suddenly, and that’s when you realize winter is near. In your mind, this hooking up scenario seemed nicer. Sounded softer, a cute bubble moving slowly in the air.

But now—well, now the bubble has burst, and it feels wrong, and this unexpected wrong doesn’t feel right in your chest, and that’s the story of how you leave the house escaping from his window, in his clothes, with vision blurred by hot, stupid, idiotic tears.

Seulgi is the first one to notice, and, obviously, the first one to speak.

“Something’s been bothering you,” she says, head tilted in a way that’s supposed to be emphatic and worried but comes off as stiff and terrified. “Care to share?”

It’s just a wholesome amount of terrifying stuff, isn’t it? First the shower incident, now Seulgi’s ways not working around you anymore. What’s next? Avoiding Jimin for a whole week? Blocking his number? Losing the smart and beautiful title to your obnoxious brother?

You wouldn’t be surprised, really. Shit like this always happens at the same fucking time.

“It’s nothing. A stressful couple days, maybe? Or maybe I’m getting sick. There’s a guy always coughing during Physics. Maybe it’s his fault, who knows.”

Seulgi unlocks her phone, an unreadable gaze studying you. She gives up a second later, though, her weak maybe reaching your ears when you’ve already looked down on your book.

One simply cannot be annoyed because of a half hook up. Christ. You deserve better than that. You have some dignity left, tainted by everything that’s not Jimin and his harsh, stupid words.

So, your mind offers, while you squint your eyes, I suppose there’s nothing else you could do about it.

Nothing else besides acknowledging it and moving on.

Sounds like a plan. A fireproof plan, an escape plan, something detailed and precise. Planned to work out smoothly; planned to be executed without pain or mistakes.

It’s seven sharp when he knocks, takeout in his left hand, eyes bulging because it’s fucking freezing outside.

“It’s fucking freezing, what the fuck.” He says out loud, indeed. What he receives as an answer is the sound of your tongue clicking, the biggest amount of interest you’ve shown towards him the whole week. He would finally exhale, weren’t it for the fact that this is still pretty traumatic, because if there’s something he’s learned while orbiting around you, is that you’re constantly awake and aware of your surroundings. Your body language says that you pay attention to him, or Seulgi, or whoever you’re talking to. You follow the guy with your eyes, and you listen and nod in all the right places during a conversation, and you search for his dark gaze when he’s fucking you in the dimly lit bedroom, the bed creaking under your sweaty sex making. He’s not admitting it, he never will, and he’ll pretty much deny this to everyone who will ask but: there’s something hot about it. Something burning with the way your body reacts to him, when your eyes follow his actions, while your voice falters when he fucks you right, and it somehow pushes him to the edge every time. It’s the equivalent of Jungkook getting a boner in the gym while catching girls and boys drooling at him, except he’s talking about you and your crazy moans, your magic aura.

And yes, okay, fucking blame him, the realization alone made him jerk off in his room like a teen, twice, yesterday. That’s a fact. That’s barely a fact, alright? This is a truth; a statement soon forgot by the knowers. Obviously.

You look spent, he thinks, if he had to choose a word, dared by some arrogant deity to define the current mess you were. He glances at your barely done ponytail, at the tiredness written all over your face. He takes in your baggy sweater, your quiet beauty, knowing this is gonna be one of those nights you take a step back.

He doesn’t say anything though, instead he brushes the hair on your forehead, not even making contact with your skin.

You grab the bag from his hands, shivering instantly and hoping he doesn’t read the signs. They’re—they’re there, you know, you’re collecting them slowly, one after another, grabbing one and looking cautiously for the following one, hoping it’s not there. Hoping it doesn’t exist.

You exhale a sigh, disguising it as cough, a noise, something distracting Jimin from his silent staring, which is, funnily enough, loud and cacophonic.

“Hungry,” you state, the single word weighting more because of the soft pout on your lips. Jimin hates that he knows what it means, that it’s gonna be just the two of you this time, no chill whatsoever, no bodies touching and melting against each-other. He’s not complaining, what the fuck, he’s not an idiot. He’s not even mad, he’s just—accepting, on a level. This is the point of no return, he guesses, following you on the couch and admiring the laptop’s screen reflected on your face.

He doesn’t say anything when you search for Brooklyn 99 on Netflix, because he’d say everything, otherwise. He’d mumble something along the lines of this feels real, we could do this all the time, or, worst of all: I like this. I like you.

So, in order: he tugs at your sleeves and scoots you closer to him, and you say absolutely nothing at the gesture. He’s ecstatic on the inside, partially terrified, mostly delusional. He pretends he’s something more when you lean on him, the slightest pressure of your head on his shoulder. He cares zero fucks about the show when he’s breathing your scent in and feels how warm you are and shuts his eyelids down when he pictures you adoring him. Liking him. Liking him a whole lot more—

He’s fucked, he realises, hours later, when you doze off and he has to carry you to bed, something you claim of loathing, which—what on earth. It’s an unfathomable absurdity, that’s what it is.

“You can stay.”

His voice falters. “What?”

You cough, eyes closed as you speak sinful words: “The night, I mean. It’s fucking freezing outside.”

His lips form a small o, and it’s hot all of a sudden. “Alright,” he manages, staring at you on your bed, hands fidgety and heartbeat accelerated for some reason, “Make space for me. Hey, fucker. I’m serious. Let me in.”

You do.

(to be continued. ily)

#BTS jimin #bts #bts fic #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts smut #bts social media au #bts imagine #bts imagines #jimin imagine #jimin #jimin smut #jimin bts #jimin x reader

414 notes · View notes

a-detraque-barista · 4 years

Text

How They Mark You

Mentions of mental illness, suggestive themes, stockholm syndrome (only in one of them), yandere themes, and prescribed drug use

This...This was A LOT longer than it needed to be. Like I am so s o r r y

Seokjin

Jin had never really had a reason to mark you. He always figured you being next to him whenever you went out was enough. Until today. The two of you were in the grocery store when Jin had noticed the same person down every aisle you two were in. He couldn't help but think that they were following you. Why would they not? It's possible that they see the same endearing qualities in you as he does. But of course, he wouldn't let them have you if they think they could.

He brushed it off until you were checking out and the same person was right behind you in line. From here, Jin could tell that they were a male, around six foot, and coming alarmingly close to you.

"Darling, what's my pin again? I keep forgetting it," it was all Jin could think of for you to come closer to him and type it in for him while he glared at the man. He supposed the fact that he was near wasn't enough for people to get the picture. So, he quickly brought you home.

After putting all of the groceries away, he turned to you, "Did you notice the creep that was following us in the store?"

"Yeah, but I didn't want to say anything cause I knew that would upset you," you shrugged before sitting on the couch before patting the spot next to you for Jin to sit.

Having an idea, Jin leaned his body into yours to push you down with a grin on his face, "I think I know just what to do to keep people away from you."

You tilted your head which gave him room to lean down and start leaving small bites along your neck and collarbone. You had to stay like that for almost a half hour before he finally deemed it enough.

Yoongi

Yoongi was only really jealous before he ruined your life. Before he made you completely rely on him he was always possessive to the point where he wanted to mark every inch of your skin. But now that you're hear with him, he never had that feeling again.

He rarely let you leave your room let alone the house. Although, every once in a while he would let you go out to the back yard for a few minutes.

It was one of those rare days as you laid on the grass and felt the nice summer breeze on your face. Yoongi had to take a call and went back inside when the neighbor had accidentally threw his ball into your yard. He peaked over the fence to see you laying there, not too far from his ball. He had never seen you before, only the man that he thought was living alone.

"Hey, can you pass me my ball back please?" he called out to you causing you to startle awake.

You hadn't even realized you were dozing off until the man said something. Getting up you walked over and handed him his ball before turning around to lay on the ground.

Curious, he started to talk to you. Asking questions about who were and why he hasn't seen you around. You began to enjoy it before Yoongi came out and grabbed your hand to drag you back inside.

Never had he been more furious than in that moment. Not only had someone dared to talk to you, but he even had the audacity to look over the fence at you.

The next day Yoongi let you sit out wearing a necklace with his initials and a shirt with his name on it for the neighbor to see.

Hoseok

Well...Hoseok has already marked every inch of your skin during your daily cuddle sessions. So it baffled him when someone cat called you while walking past. Your neck was covered in dark purple and red marks. How could he not see that you were taken????

The voice that has been living in his head for years gave him a few notes on how to handle it. It ended in you having to hold Hoseok back by his arm until he finally let up on beating the man's face in. You immediately took him home and locked the door.

This wasn't the first time something like this has happened. Last time the police got involved but with Hoseok's history of mental illness he was able to get out of it quite easily. Just a new prescription of medication that he refuses to take unless you personally give them to him.

So deciding on skipping lunch, Hoseok lead you straight to the bedroom and pinned you down on the bed.

"I'm sorry, jagi. But we're going to have to wait until dinner to eat," he sighed as he kissed his way down your chest.

He kept his promise and you didn't have dinner until almost midnight with a fresh layer of hickeys and cum threatening to drip down your thigh.

Namjoon

You weren't even allowed to leave the house, let alone come in contact with someone. Namjoon was always the one to go out and get whatever you or he needed. It definitely wasn't your preferred living style but what else could you do? Namjoon was able to convince you who you needed and didn't need in your life. Leading you to live with him without anyone knowing.

You were sure nobody knew of your existence except for the people you used to associate yourself with. Which also meant you getting lonely most of the time while Namjoon was out doing whatever he was doing.

But today, you wanted pizza for dinner and Namjoon didn't feel like leaving the house. So Namjoon called and ordered it for delivery. Normally, Namjoon would be the one to answer the door in any situation. However, he had gone to the bathroom right before the delivery guy knocked on the door.

You had thought that it would be no harm to answer the door and pay for the food. You didn't want the delivery man to end up leaving and you would have to wait another hour for Namjoon to cook dinner. So you grabbed the money off the counter and opened the door. Smiling, you exchanged the money for the pizza and was about to close the door when the man began to talk.

"You're really cute. Are you single by any chance?" his question made you freeze and stare at him wide-eyed.

"Uh-"

"Sorry to burst your bubble but I'm the boyfriend. Now, if you'll excuse us we're going to enjoy our dinner and each others company. Have a nice night," Namjoon had been smiling the whole time, up until he closed the door. "What have I told you about answering the door?"

"To not answer it."

"And what did you do?"

"Answered it." Namjoon always did this when you broke a rule. It made you feel small and immature when he spoke to you like this.

"Sit down so I can give you your punishment."

That's exactly what you did. You've learned what happens if you don't. The last time you were disobedient you woke up the day after and you could barely walk and you had scars from the knife he used.

You were surprised to feel Namjoon's mouth on your neck after he pushed you to lay on the couch. Usually you would feel some sort of sharp object. But the closest thing to sharp was Namjoon's teeth nipping at your skin.

"I almost forgot how it felt to be jealous."

Jimin

Jimin rarely let you out of his sight, even if you didn't know he was there. He was the most obsessive out of all the boys. He was more lenient on letting you leave the house, but he almost always followed you. The only time he didn't was when he had to take care of important matters.

And because he was so obsessed, he always had something on you that showed you were his. Either the necklace he bought you or the marks from the night before. Or even his hoodie that was so adorable on you he was running low on his favorites to wear outside.

Yesterday, you had accidentally broken the necklace with Jimin's name on it. You were too scared to tell him so you hid it and pretended like nothing happened. You were just hoping he wouldn't notice before you went out with your friends in an hour.

If he did notice, then he didn't say anything. So you tried to forget about the guilt and anxiety that built up inside you to enjoy the little time you had. Jimin may be okay with letting you see your friends, but it wasn't often. He usually guilt tripped you so you would stay home. And it always worked.

Jimin noticed right away that you didn't have your necklace. So before he followed you he looked for it in your shared bedroom. He found the multiple pieces hidden in your drawer beside the bed. He was hurt and furious at the same time.

Quickly, he put on his black hoodie and snap back to where he knew you and your friends were. He may have been livid but he can't let you find out about him following you everywhere. You would be upset with him and he could never live with himself if you got mad at him. He watched for the two hours he allowed you to be outside.

The two hours were almost up and he was going to head home when he saw someone walk up to you in the cafe. He wasn't an employee, so why was he approaching you?

Jimin pieced everything together when the guy handed you a piece of paper that no doubt had his number on it. Before Jimin could storm across the street and into the building, he watched as you dropped the paper in your water and grabbed your things.

His heart was pounding as he walked up to you and grabbed your arm. He spun you around and kissed you on the lips passionately.

"That's my jagi."

Taehyung

Taehyung had always loved taking photos of you. He had a special collection of photos of just you. First, it started in his closet where he would just tape them onto the wall. Then, it escalated into him having to clean out the spare bedroom and use that for the growing number of pictures. He still kept it up even after becoming friends with you. Of course, he would make sure the spare bedroom was locked whenever you came over to his apartment. He didn’t want you to get scared and leave him.

Once the two of you had started dating, he began to take photos of you with his phone whenever you spent time together. Most of the pictures ended up being posted on his Instagram account.

The two of you had a shared account so Taehyung could keep track of who you talked to and what posts you liked.

That also meant he knew if someone would comment on a pic of you. Usually either you or Taehyung would ignore it and delete it. But there was a certain comment that made his eye twitch in annoyance.

The photo was of you in a tank top and sweatpants while cooking something on the stove. Taehyung loved that photo. You had been making bulgogi with rice right when he had gotten home from work. He couldn’t help but to pull out his phone and make the shutter go off, causing you to side-eye him.

It wasn’t until the next day when you were mindlessly scrolling on Instagram and you had gotten the notification. Taehyung was still at work so you were just laying in bed. Curiously, you clicked on the heart at the bottom of your screen and tapped on the notification.

i wish she was my girl. at least if she was with me her hair would be a mess and hickeys covered her neck. lol

You internally go Ooohhhhhhh shiiiiiit. You had tried to delete the comment but Taehyung had just walked in so you quickly turn your phone off and tossed it to the side.

“Hey babe, how was work?” you asked.

“Could’ve been better. How was your day?” he began to change from his work clothes into just a pair of black sweats before coming to lay down with you.

“Boring. Why’d you lay down? Don’t you want dinner?”

“Not at the moment.”

You looked at him, confused as he straddled your waist. His hand came to rest on each side of your head on the pillow. He leaned down to start leaving open-mouthed kisses along your jugular and shoulder. Biting and sucking lead to him leaning back from his work.

Taehyung swiped his tongue over his bottom lip before biting it. He reached into his pocket and brought his phone out to take a photo of your neck. After he tapped his finger a few times on the screen he turned it around to show you. He had posted the picture on Instagram with the caption Mine ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Jeongguk

He was...constantly possessive. There wasn’t a day that went by without him marking your neck or staring at you endearingly with infatuation. You could be sitting there watching tv on the bed and you just see Jeongguk’s head up from the side.

You giggled as you went back to watching the show that was playing. This was the only time you got to watch tv so you ignored him. You had been scared when Jeongguk first kidnapped you and brought you to his family home in the country side.

He was violent and intimidating, especially when you spoke out. It’s been eight months since then and Jeongguk has proven to be one of the most caring people you’ve ever met. He didn’t talk very much but when he did he spoke words of adoration and compliments. On the rare occasion, he would mumble about things like “she’s mine”, “you can’t have her”, and “you deserved this”. Those were the times you worried about when he left and didn’t come back for a few hours.

Right now, you were still trying to ignore Jeongguk as he slowly inched his way onto the bed. It took him about ten minutes to get on the bed and closer to you to the point where he was laying on his side only an inch away from you. You tried to keep the grin off your face but failed miserably.

Finally looking at him you asked, “What?”

His round doe eyes stared into yours while he gathered the courage to ask you a very important question. He took a deep breath and the exhale blew a baby hairs from your face.

You gave him time as his shyness usually kept him from talking openly about what was on his mind.

“Can-can we get-get...uh tattoos? Together?” his voice was quiet as he held his stare onto yours.

Your eyes widened a bit as you processed what he had said. He had almost a full sleeve of art tattooed into his right arm while you had only had a few here and there because of how expensive they were.

“I don’t see why not,” you turned back to the tv and squinted at the fact that it was now a whole new show. Your lips turned into a pout as you grabbed the remote to change the channel.

Jeongguk grabbed the remote out of your hands and tossed it across the room. You decided not to comment on it and look at him expectantly.

“I want to get each other’s names over our hearts.”

That...was definitely not what you were expecting but it wasn’t surprising. Jeongguk had been tracing shapes into the skin above your heart for the past week. You supposed it was his name that he was tracing.

“Do you...still want to get them?” his voice was almost a whisper now as he began to trace over your heart again.

You stayed quiet as you thought about if you wanted to really get his name tattooed into your skin for the rest of your life. Thinking about it, you smiled and began to trace over Jeongguk’s shirt where your name would be inked into his skin.

“Yeah, I do.”

474 notes · View notes

charming-eel · 3 years

Note

Would you reccomend any specific reading to someone interested in keeping fancy goldfish?

So sorry for the slow response, I usually use tumblr on mobile and I think the ask got buried U_U; Also.. this is gonna be long I could talk goldfish all damn day

I don’t have any specific pages to suggest, I’m not crazy about a lot of the care sheets out there, especially with like.. gallonage rules and that kind of thing. In general, I wouldn’t keep fancy goldies in anything smaller than a 4′ tank if you’re keeping them indoors. A 75 or 90g is a great place to start for a small group (5 or so) fancies. The best advice I can give is OVER FILTER the heck out of the tank. Something like a fluval FX4 or similar capacity canister filter is my go to for goldfish (again, kept indoors). Fluvals are just the least expensive canister that I still trust quality wise. Eheims are also excellent if you feel like spending a bit more. (I don’t have one of the newer models but I’ve used them for years and they’re great filters in general.)

As far as some other tips go...!

Substrate- I recommend using a fairly shallow (1.5-2″ ish) sand bed for goldfish. I also would use a lot of smooth river rocks in the tank for them to graze one.

Tank decor, plants, etc- Contrary to popular believe goldfish CAN be kept with plants, you just have to be selective about the ones you use! Thankfully all the ones I would use are SUPER low maintenance and easy to grow. Anubias and java fern can be anchored between rocks or on driftwood pieces- you can use driftwood with goldfish in a limited sense. You don’t want a lot of tannins and also don’t want super branchy pieces that they can scratch themselves on- something like ghost wood, manzanita stumps (not branches), mopani, or oak work well for some enrichment and spots for plants to attach to. In the substrate you can plant various vallisnera, crypts, and other rooted plants depending on your light level and if you want to fertilize heavily. Amazon swords are popular with goldfish but again, you’ll have to use root tabs for long term success with them. I DON’T like using plants like hornwort and cabomba indoors with goldies because they tend to pick at them and it can make a huge mess that will require a good bit of work on your part to keep from building up detritus. I’ve also used tiger lotus and non-lace aponogetons with goldfish indoors and they did fine with them. Duckweed is great for them to graze on, but some groups will eat it all before it can replenish itself, depends on the individuals. I have duckweed in several tanks so I just toss them a handful every week or so. Oh! Lots of people use marimo with goldies which CAN work, but they sometimes unroll them and pick at them relentlessly- use with caution.

Water temp: When kept indoors I like to keep them around 68-72F, which is about what my water temp is w/o a chiller in my house.

My fave types of fancies: Let me start off by saying that I DO think a lot of egg-shaped fancies can be healthy and robust. A lot of people are against fancies in general, but I think the vast majority of the breeds CAN be as healthy as your standard goldfish, especially since most of the long-bodied goldfish sold in store are culls.

FANCY GOLDFISH I RECOMMEND:

FANTAILS- Super hardy, low-maintenance fancy goldfish that come in pretty much all colors and scale types. EASY as can be! When picking out a fantail look for a smooth, egg shaped body with no kinks or harsh angles; clear eyes that aren’t bulgy or large, and strong fins. Here's a top view of one of my old fantails.

ORANDAS- Also very hardy (believe it or not), although the wen can be a concern for some keepers. I’ve personally never had an issue in my groups with wen overgrowth but it can happen, so it’s something to keep in mind. I recommend looking for orandas that have a smoother egg shaped body than the sharp angles b/t the spine and caudal fin that a lot of them have. There are many sub-types of oranda and some are bred to an “extreme” that can be detrimental to their overall health. Here’s one of my old Thai orandas

RYUKIN- Excellent choice as long as they’re not bred to an extreme. The characteristic hump back does not slow them down in the slightest and they are very robust and easy to keep. This was not one of mine, but I saw it at my fave LFS and GOSH this is such a nice ryukin body-condition wise.

TAMASABA - Uncommon breed, essentially a single-tailed ryukin (they tail can be short or long). Really cool goldfish to keep if you can find them. Pic below.

GOLDFISH I RECOMMEND FOR *LARGE* TANKS (6′ minimum):

SABAO - VERY similar to the tamasaba, and also uncommon. Essentially a single-tailed fantail. Egg shaped body with a single tail that can be short or long.

WAKIN- My ABSOLUTE FAVORITE FANCY GOLDFISH! They are a gorgeous, long bodied fish with a short-finned double tail. Best of both worlds if you ask me! Here are some of my old wakin.

WATONAI- Fairly uncommon at this point, but great candidates for large aquariums! Basically a wakin with long fins.

FANCY GOLDFISH I RECOMMEND KEEPING WITH CAUTION:

These are all fish that lack a dorsal fin, if you keep them DEFINITELY keep them only with other goldfish that lack dorsal fins. They can be outcompeted when kept fancies with more traditional body types.

Phoenix / Phoenix Egg- Essentially a long tailed variety of eggfish (true eggfish are exceedingly rare), does not have a wen. I only mention them because they’re becoming more popular and are available more often than they used to be.

Ranchu- Dorsal-less, double tailed, has a wen, typically has a sharply angled caudal fin in relation to the spine

Lionhead- OLD variety of goldfish, dorsal-less, double tailed, has a wen, typically have a more rounded body type with a less angled caudal than ranchus.

GOLDFISH BREEDS I DO NOT RECOMMEND:

I do not recommend the following goldfish for various reasons. Yes, individuals of the following breeds CAN be healthy and hardy, but I think most have large risks involved with keeping them that I don’t think are justifiable.

Pearlscale / Crown Pearlscale

Telescope, any breed with telescope eyes (these can be very healthy and hardy but the tank needs to be designed with caution because they are prone to eye issues)

Celestial Eye

Bubble Eye

Welp I kind of.. ended up making a basic care sheet for them whoops. Feel free if you have any other questions or want help designing tanks!

#fishblr #goldfish #diggorydangles #answered ask

38 notes · View notes

poodlepunk · 3 years

Text

Expanded Author Notes: Once and Again

Hi! Can’t believe I just finished these two stories. Sorry it took so long, I got quite emotional about writing the final chapter! I’m really going to miss this version of Tamaki and Kyoya. I love when other writers talk about their process and headcanons, so if you’re interested, here are a few of mine from the Once and Again series! Everything I thought would be too annoying to put in the notes section!

(Contains some spoilers for the Ouran manga and for the two fics And So Kyoya Met Him! (Again) and Once Is Never Enough)

1. What inspired this fanfiction?

I’ve always loved this pairing and Ouran (from the anime). I like how the anime leaves the romances between all of these wonderful characters ambiguous. I was happy and content, thinking to myself that of course Tamaki and Kyoya could have made something happen post-anime.

Then, while trapped in my house by a global pandemic, I somehow came into possession of the 18 volume manga box set and devoured it with my eyes in 2 days.

That’s when I saw the side note that Kyoya ends up drifting apart from Tamaki and Haruhi (except for texting occasional pics of his cat?????), and eventually he marries some lady that will make the Ootori family look good. UHHHH NO THANKS. This was an extreme knife in the heart to me (and I’m sure, everyone reading this).

There is also one panel in the final volume (on the Barcelona side trip). It’s a low-quality panel, but basically Tamaki punches Kyoya in the shoulder, and Kyoya just gives him this stunned, small look. And I immediately interpreted that as “OH GOD, HE TOUCHED ME.” It broke my heart and every time I even think about it, I need to write another 1000 words of Kyoya finding love and happiness.

Haruhi will be 100% fine, but Kyoya needs Tamaki, and that’s what I wanted to give him. In 2020, we all deserve it.

2. Why does Kyoya have brown eyes?

In the anime, Kyoya seems to have gray-ish eyes. I always wonder, when people read fanfic about anime characters, whether they see the characters as they’re drawn or as actual 3d people? I tend to imagine them as actual humans with the features of their anime drawings. Like a live action movie. So I’d imagine Kyoya as a very, very handsome Japanese man with brown eyes. And Tamaki as a ridiculously handsome French-Japanese man with blonde hair and blue eyes so brilliant they could be called violet.

3. Is it easier to write Kyoya or Tamaki?

Definitely Tamaki. I feel much more similar to Tamaki, in that a lot of texts I send are seventeen party hat emojis. Side note, I’m also eurasian like Tamaki (though definitely do not have violet eyes). I really like the aspect of him being from two cultures, thinking about his identity and where his home is.

But I do love writing them both.

My interpretation of Kyoya comes more from the manga, I think, where he’s shown more to have a secret heart of gold (finding Tamaki’s mother, helping him catch her before her plane leaves, defending Tamaki to his father--god he would literally do ANYTHING for Tamaki). He also seems to be quite innocent (despite all his scheming) and holds himself apart from matters of the heart. I love the moment when he’s helping Tamaki get to the plane to see his mother, but refuses to join him to watch the emotional reunion because he’s “not good with emotions.” I really wanted to help him find that side of himself.

Tamaki is just my sweet, clueless sunshine boy. I could see him being one of those people who is very popular and in control in high school, makes friends wherever he goes, but gets a bit lost in college/adulthood. Especially with his difficult upbringing, need to please people, and living with the terrible decision to leave his mother behind. I could see him shutting down or turning a bit self destructive. I think Kyoya is a grounding influence on him, and someone he would always look to for stability, someone who would be solid in a crisis.

Also thank you for indulging my headcanon that Tamaki is an amazing dancer at college parties and karaoke singer. I imagine he would be the most fun friend of the group to spend a night out with because he has a musician’s timing, rhythm, and no shame. You’d want him on your side in a dance battle. Also why I imagine he would be great at sex lol.

The Sports Day arc of the manga is one of my favorites--Tamaki tends to recognize Kyoya’s feelings before he does, but he never calls them out directly. Instead, he has to play a long, elaborate game with Kyoya to get him to acknowledge them. He spends so much time and effort trying to make Kyoya happy and give him what he needs, even when Kyoya doesn’t want to accept it. This was a lot of the inspiration for Once Is Never Enough.

On a personal note: this year has been rough (for everyone, hope you are hanging in there!!). I was supposed to be spending the winter (three months) in Tokyo, but that did not happen due to Covid. Writing this fic and taking these boys all over the world really helped me to revisit some of my favorite places.

The good news is that I will have to watch a lot more anime to keep working on my preschool-level Japanese. And then write more fics! I’m so excited about it.

I cannot BELIEVE that the only thing standing between me and being a fanfic writer like the many I have always admired, was literally pushing a button on ao3. If you’re thinking about it, I encourage you to try it!!

My inbox is open if you want to chat about Ouran, writing, these fics or anything :)

Also, I don’t know if I will ever write these fics personally (I’ve been thinking about it) but here are some things that I would love to see and WHY DON’T THESE FICS EXIST YET (someone please do this or rec them to me if they exist):

1. The hurt/comfort story of Kyoya helping Tamaki battle his mother’s disease

2. Kyoya helping Tamaki get back on his feet after his (amicable) divorce from Haruhi or (bitter) divorce from Eclair

3. Where is Kyoya’s mom? The reversal story where Tamaki helps Kyoya with HIS family problems for once.

There are so many great ones, but I just wish there were even more stories about these guys. Maybe one day we will get the Fruits Basket style Ouran season 2.

I’ll be honest--I’ll probably not be able to keep from writing at least one Christmas one-shot about these two.

Thanks for reading these notes! Hope you enjoyed them! :)

#my fic #kyotama #tamakyo

11 notes · View notes

istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years

Text

Tomorrow Never Came PT. 12

Now that you’ve done what you came to do, what comes next? Where do you go? How do you cope?

TRIGGER WARNING: BIG SAD. also low quality pic of roger hehe

The last of your measly belongings were packed tightly into that folded up box you’d stuffed into the closet a year ago, the clock reading some time around 2 in the morning as you took a deep, shuddering breath. A few tears escaped your eyes, and you reached up to quickly wipe them away. This was it.

Weston had explained everything from the beginning, pausing only to let you cry it out. He was patient – a bit irritable, but not outwardly, and he always waited until you were calmed down a bit to continue. He was understanding, you thought, as you made your way down the hallway to Roger’s room, which was still empty. Roger wouldn’t be back for a good 6 or 7 hours, leaving you plenty of time to process what Weston had said.

Roger was the universe’s punishment for your involvement in Weston’s creation. He had manifested the time portal, through some sort of quantum physics mumbo-jumbo you hadn’t even pretended to understand. He did it for his childhood friend, a redhead that went by the name of Abigail. She was beautiful, and all the boys chased after her, including Weston. But he had the upper hand as her best friend, and he squandered it away by pining after her silently until it was too late – Abigail was gone, victim to an IRA car bomb that detonated yards from where she was standing, outside of a pub. She was killed at the ripe age of 16, before he could even say goodbye.

“So you made a time machine to save a girl you were obsessed with,” you deadpanned in between crying sessions, Weston’s face twisting up in annoyance and agreement as he struggled to form a comeback.

“Well, when you put it that way…. I guess.”

He’d studied for years, running algorithm after algorithm, test after test, until a successful run in 1993 – he found himself thrust back into the 1970s, at the same exact time, in the same exact place. Roger and Freddie became background characters in his quest to fix what he saw as an error in the timeline, people who just happened to be there every time he came back to try and fix it again.

But that was the problem both of you had – you saw the tragedies as erroneous, but as traumatic as they were, they were not errors. It took Weston years to finally realize there was no way to fix it.

“I spent all of my time from 1993 to 2010 trying to figure out what I was doing wrong,” he’d quietly remarked, tugging on a string that was frayed off of the knee of his baggy jeans. “Turns out, it wasn’t my place to try and change history anyways. Abi wasn’t meant to be with me, as much as I wanted it to be true.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, not sure what to say. It was overwhelming, all of it, and an excessive amount of shame and pain washed over you as you realized that you were not the only one chasing something that wasn’t yours, that didn’t belong to you. A small part of you still wanted Roger, but the common sense in you knew it wasn’t in the cards.

Weston was silent as he stared at the floor just past his knees, chewing on the inside of his lip before he stood up and brushed his jeans off absentmindedly. “I spent 2010 and on trying to convince Dan that it wasn’t worth it. He caught me one time, coming out of the closet door. Wouldn’t leave until I explained, shit a brick when I did.”

“But you let him?” you countered, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked up at Weston.

“It’s hard to say no to someone who offers to pay double the rent for an apartment that only offers you pain because of a time portal you can’t get rid of. And I figured he’d get the message eventually. I never imagined….” He trailed off, looking down at you as he tried to find the words to say that wouldn’t offend you. It was clear that he found you incapable of dealing with the consequences, but he didn’t say it. Instead, he cleared his throat and shook his head. “I didn’t think he’d send anyone else.”

“I get it,” you muttered, standing up as well as tears once again threatened to spill out of your eyes. “I’ll just pack up my things.”

And now here you were, standing in the middle of Roger’s room, silently crying as you took one last look. It was a mess, clothes laying across the bed that wasn’t made, an ashtray with an abundance of cigarette butts near the window, and tons of crumpled papers with scrapped songs on them – but it was home to you. You approached the desk, picking one paper up that seemed to be an abandoned love song. Those weren’t typical of Roger, so you folded it up slowly and pushed it into your pocket, sniffling once before grabbing the pen and a discarded paper, writing out a note to your boyfriend. Could you call him a boyfriend now? It was all so confusing.

I did it. I love you forever. Please keep writing music, and don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine – you just keep being the best drummer out there. Queen is going to do numbers, I promise. Gotta go now.

Placing the note on his bed, you walked back out of his room to where Weston was waiting, his arms crossed as he watched you wipe away the last of your tears.

“Ready to go?”

The apartment wasn’t like you remembered it. When you and Weston walked back through, it was an unfamiliar layout, complete with a mirror in front of the door that you nearly broke upon opening the door outward. But Weston shoved through, strolling into the bedroom as if it was his own. Which, you quickly realized, it was. Pictures of him with a strange redhead girl you recognized as Abigail were on the dresser, coupled with some stacks of papers with equations and diagrams that looked like another language to you.

“Wow. Guess you really did do it. Wonder where Dan is,” he remarked, mostly unfazed by the fact that it had returned to his own apartment. He looked around for a moment, then turned to you and nodded. “Uh, sorry about your boyfriend. I know what it’s like, so if you ever need anyone to, uh, talk to-“

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, a bit more sharply than you intended, but the rim of red around your eyes was enough to keep him from being offended. “I’m just going to go.”

He was quiet, just nodding in response and heading for the door so he could open it for you. “Okay. Hope everything works out.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath, then hurried out of the door with your box of belongings. It felt heavy in your arms, heavier now that you had the weight of the world on your shoulders, but you managed to make your way down to the street, the church’s shadow looming over you like a death sentence as you hailed a cab that took you all the way to your mom’s house. It wasn’t home. Not anymore.

When you arrived at the small house on the other side of the city, you saw the driveway had your car in it, plus an unfamiliar junker that looked like it might fall apart if you shook it a little bit. Furrowing your eyebrows, you eyed the car suspiciously as you paid the cabbie with the pocket money you had left. It wasn’t yours, and it sure as hell wasn’t your father or mother’s, so whose was it?

Stepping out of the car, you shifted the box to your hip and stared up at the house. It seemed dirtier than you remembered, but maybe it was a year without seeing it that stained your eyesight, so you walked up to the door without another thought. Your feet dragged just a bit as you ascended the stairs, the reality of finally seeing your mom again after a whole year hitting you like a freight train. What if she was still an invalid? What if nothing had changed?

“Y/N?”

The front door swung open before you could even get to it, the familiar voice of your mom flooding your ears. But there was something off about it, a slowness to the way she spoke your name that made your ears ring as you looked up to find her standing in the doorway, leaned up against the frame.

Jesus, she was a mess. She looked at least 20 years older than she should have been, her collarbones jutting out of what used to be a healthy, toned body. In fact, all of her bones were sticking out, a sickly pallor discoloring her face and making her seem as if she was a ghost as she smiled lazily at you, her eyes a bit bleary and unfocused as she searched your face.

“Mum?” you asked unsurely, still standing at the top of the stairs as you stared at the woman who had taken care of you for the last 20-something years, a shell of what she’d been when you saw her literally hours ago, young and relatively unscathed.

“Can you go get me some Guinness? I’ll give you the cash.”

Staring blankly at her, you sat the box down on the porch and nodded slowly. She wasn’t drunk. This wasn’t the body of an alcoholic. This was something else you couldn’t put your finger on, something worse. Registering your nod slowly, she shut the door again and left you out on the porch, reeling from the interaction that had just taken place. Seconds later, she came back with a wad of cash, your phone, and your keys. Walking out to you, or rather, wobbling, she gave the handful to you with a shaking hand, then picked up your box and carried it inside without another word.

“What the fuck?” you whispered once she’d shut the door, still shocked from what had just happened. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?” you continued anxiously, slowly turning on your heels to walk out to your car that was waiting in the drive. What in the fuck had just happened?

Opening the car door, the familiar peony and cherry car freshener assaulted your nostrils as you dropped in, closing the door behind you and shakily unlocking your phone. It was still March, maybe 30 minutes after you’d went in to the portal, and yet, you felt like it had been forever since you’d been here. There weren’t any notifications, just the time and the date staring you back in the face from your iPhone.

Dan. He would know what’s going on. Opening your phone, you quickly pulled up his contact, calling him and pressing it to your ear as you listened to it ring, ring, ring. But he never answered, eliciting a string of curses out of you as you called him again, refusing to quit. And he finally answered on the third ring, sounding thoroughly annoyed.

“What d’you want?”

The words tumbled out of you before you could even think, pouring out of your mouth like a torrential waterfall of stupidity. You would regret it in a moment. “I did it, I went back and stopped William and Ted, and I thought mum would be alright, but now I’m here again in 2018 and I just-“

“Jesus, what are you on about? Did your mum let you shoot up with her, finally? She let you in on her stash of smack? Fuck, no wonder your dad took off, you’re both so cracked out. You both still owe me.”

“Wha- I-“ You were floored, so many truths attacking you at once you could barely comprehend the situation. “Smack? Owe you?”

“You’re high,” he accused, sounding even more annoyed than before, if that was possible at all. “And you owe me 700 fucking pounds. Remember that? Don’t fucking call back until you got it, you and your fucking thief of a mum. Fuck you.”

The line went dead. Stunned, you stared at your phone as it returned to the home screen, still devoid of notifications, and for some reason, you didn’t cry. You just breathed slowly, almost heavily, a hundred needles poking into your heart while you watched the screen go black after your inactivity. Smack? Your mom was a heroin addict? That explained the sluggishness, the harrowed appearance, but didn’t explain why? What had you done wrong? This wasn’t supposed to be how it happened. You were supposed to come back to a normal family, a normal life, not an addict mother and an uncle that despised you, plus a still-absent father.

No tears came, still. All that overtook you was a need, a desperate one at that. You needed his name to pop up on that phone, to call you and ask you if you were okay, because you weren’t, not anymore.

You needed Roger.

Roger. Roger, fuck, where is he? Scrambling to open up your phone, you opened Chrome and typed in his name faster than you’d ever typed in your life, hitting search even though you misspelled his last name in your haste, and feeling a flood of relief when you saw his Wikipedia page pull up. For a moment, you felt like at least something went right. But, as your luck would have it, you were wrong.

Roger Meddows Taylor was an English musician, singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist, best known as the drummer for the rock band Queen.

Was?

Clicking on the Wikipedia link, you waited a few seconds for the page to load before you were met with a picture of Roger, one that was slightly unfamiliar due to the shorter length of his hair. He looked middle-aged in the photo, the caption indicating it was taken around the mid-90’s, but you didn’t pay attention to it for too long before the death date caught your eye.

August 3, 2000

“No, no, no, no,” you whined, a tear immediately springing forth out of your eye as you scrolled down to the Personal Life section of his Wikipedia. What awaited you there was crushing, and you continually swept tears out of your eyes as you read it, so distraught you couldn’t even make a sound.

Following the 1997 release of No-One but You (Only the Good Die Young) and Deacon’s departure from Queen, Taylor unexpectedly committed himself to an unnamed institute, allegedly in the countryside near London unexpectedly. Remaining Queen member Brian May, speaking about the situation on a talk show later in 2000, cited ‘personal issues related to grieving,’ mentioning Freddie by name. He also briefly mentioned an old girlfriend from the early days of Queen, although this story is unconfirmed and no evidence of this relationship was brought forth upon public doubt. Taylor passed in 2000, leaving behind five children with two ex-wives.

“Oh, fuck me,” you sobbed as the tears finally began to fall in full force, your phone dropping to your lap as you pressed your hands to your face. Roger was dead. Your mom was just as fucked. Dan wanted nothing to do with you. Your dad? Might as well not exist. Everything was somehow worse than before.

Forgetting completely about the Guinness, you curled up in your car and sobbed for a good hour, the sky darkening to the point where you could barely see your hands in front of your face when you finally pulled yourself together, sniffling and wiping your nose on the back of your hand. Locating your phone, you grabbed it and shoved it into your pocket, neglecting to grab the keys out of the ignition before you wobbled back inside, overwhelmed with grief for both of the lives you had lost – one here, and one with Roger.

When the door on the porch opened again and you saw the outline of your mom lit by a single dim hallway light, you cursed yourself silently for completely forgetting what she’d sent you to do.

“Did you get it? Took you long enough.”

Her selfish, stinging words hit you like a slap to the face as you fully stopped in your ascension of the stairs. In her hand, she held the dress from Biba, the one Roger had bought you. “Give me my dress,” you immediately demanded, hopping the rest of the steps in one leap and coming to stand in front of her. She stared at you like an alien, eyes still bleary, probably from shooting up while you were busy mourning all of your mistakes in the car. This was not her fault, but as you stared at her offended expression that was chastising you for what you did, you couldn’t help but feel like it was.

“Where’s the fucking beer?”

“Fuck you!” you spat, snatching the dress from her hands and taking off for your car again as she yelled after you, berating you for being ungrateful and a thief and every nasty name under the moon. But you ignored her, climbing back into your car and starting it before ripping out of the driveway and peeling off down the street. Fuck her.

The dress laid in a pretty pink heap on the passenger seat, tossed over there hastily and taunting you as you drove aimlessly through the London night, not sure where to go. You didn’t even know where your dad was, so that was out of the question. And you were as good as dead to Dan. Maybe your friends? But how would you explain that? Hey, so I went back to 1971 to save my mom, but then I came back and she’s just a fucking druggie now, and my boyfriend from the 70’s is dead, and my uncle hates me, so can I crash on your couch? No. You were officially homeless.

So you went back to Weston’s. Parking on the street outside the building, you stared up at that church, the same one that had been so lofty and imposing in the 70’s now seeming small and pathetic as you examined the cracked brick, the crumbling stairs leading up to it surely being a safety violation. Your hand found the dress blindly, resting on the soft, velvety fabric and giving it a small pet. God, how desperately you could use a hug from Roger right now.

You weren’t sure was propelled you up to Weston’s door, or how you even made it up there, but a few minutes later, you were knocking on his door rapidly, your free hand clutching onto the dress desperately. When he opened the door, he didn’t even look remotely surprised to see you, though his words were polite enough.

“Hey. Back so soon?”

You groaned softly at the greeting, not sure whether to smack him or run away or both, but you shook your head and pressed your palm to your forehead. “I have to undo it. Everything. You were….. you were right.”

“Could have listened to me half a year ago, but okay,” he sighed, opening the door fully and letting you in. You beelined for the bedroom, not even stopping for a moment to explain the situation to him. It had to be done. You had to erase this reality, to start over. Your mom was too important. Roger was too important. Everything was too different. You should have listened.

And so, in you went again, plunging in to the darkness of the closet with only a few pounds and a dress on you, plus an all-too-familiar idea of what came next. As you opened the door to the 70’s décor in the hallway of the building you’d come to adore over the past year, you sighed.

Here we go again.

PT. 1 PT. 2 PT. 3 PT. 4 PT. 5 PT. 6 PT. 7 PT. 8 PT. 9 PT. 10 PT. 10.5 PT. 11

taglist - @crosmopolitan @just-ladyme @rogerfxckingtaylor @fourmisfitz @shae-is-not-ok @moreinfinite @fruityfreddie @poachedhazontoast @strawberryfields-forever @imladrs @psychoticobsession @killer-queen-xo @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @brownhardyho @stardvstial @iminlovewith-rogers-car @benyeehawdy @mercurys-bike @mazzelloplots @beaaatle @sunshine112 @wonderless-screwup @rogers-sweatbands @whowaits4everanyway @sunflower-borhap-boys @bitemerog @sitonmyhot-seatoflove @siriusly-a-nerd @rockerchic93 @darkangel711 @jennyggggrrr @bensrhapsody @xiaoqueencava @rtyler19 @discodeacygotmorerhythm

message me/reply to this to be added to the taglist! PLEASE specify whether all imagines, queen, beatles, or series taglist (just for Tomorrow Never Came)! REQUESTS CLOSED

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #queen imagine #angst #time travel #series

29 notes · View notes

strangely-amusing · 6 years

Text

Étoile

Characters : Jaemin x You

Genre : Romance, Fluff, Slight Angst

Wordcount : 10,580

Note : Originally going to post this on Jaemin’s birthday, but I’m just that impatient lmao. Before you read it I just want y’all to know that there’s a lot of drama and it can be confusing for some, so feel free to ask me about it! Title probably won’t make sense (Y’all know me, I’m not good with titles) and please do correct me if i use certain words wrong! I’m really sorry for the low quality pic, I can’t find the hd one. Hope you all enjoy! ♡

Gazing at the beautiful night sky, your eyes glimmer under the luminous glow of the moon. Millions of stars are dotted on the black canvas of the night, illuminating the night sky. Its a simple yet breath-taking view, having been your favorite view for the years you have spent alive.

Tonight is a little different, however.

It is a little more special as you get to star-gaze without having to go outside, the glass windows over your head are solving all your problems.

“Do you like it?”

You turn your head to the side, facing him with a broad smile on your face. “I love it.”

Yukhei’s smile widens when he hears your answer, and he leans closer to place a kiss on your forehead. You snuggle closer, curling up against his body. “Thank you for installing these roof windows for me. I really love it.”

Yukhei gently caresses your cheeks, his eyes glistening under the soft glow of the moon. The smile never leaves his face, and only seems to widen from time to time. “You know i would do anything for you.”

You nod, a rather sheepish smile decorating your face. You then move to lay on your back once again, your inner child taking over. The stars are beautiful, but you can’t help but to notice that as time passes it starts to lose its glow, masked by the pollution produced by careless human beings. You have had countless of dreams involving the night sky where the bright stars were scattered all over the sky, illuminating the world with its gentle glow. All this time, you think it is only a beautiful dream of yours, leaving you delighted when you wake up in the morning. But as time passes, your dream is becoming more vivid that you start to think that maybe its not just a dream. Maybe its one of your lost memories.

“Yukhei?”

A hum comes from his direction. You glance at him, barely noticing his half lidded eyes. “What does the night sky looks like when we were young? Was it like tonight?”

“Yeah, i guess.” He replies nonchalantly, his tone turns flat and cold.

Yukhei doesn’t like it when you talk about the past, there is always a different glint on his orbs whenever you ask him about your past. You never know why, but its not helping at all. With almost all your memories lost from a fatal accident that you could never remember, you need a helping hand to guide you back to living a normal life. Although Yukhei does a pretty great job at re-introducing you to all your friends, he hates it whenever you ask him about your past life before the accident. Yukhei always says that your life was miserable, and its best for you to start over rather than to try living your old life.

Its an odd way to cope with your lover’s memory loss, but you never question him. Even when you first woke up from the comma and he introduced himself as your boyfriend, you never question his words or actions.

You trust him.

♡

“Was it always like this?”

Seulgi tilts her head upwards, trying to see what you are talking about. “You mean the sky?”

You nod, eyes still gazing at the bright dots. Yukhei is out of town, having to work extra to get a promotion. When she hears that Yukhei is going out of town for a few days, she immediately comes to your house. Seulgi plays quite a big role in your life, she helps you remember a lot of things, from childhood memories to embarrassing funny stories.

Maybe that’s why Yukhei doesn’t like her. Because she tells you things that Yukhei never will.

“It used to be way more beautiful than this.” She sighs, looking at the stars rather sadly. “Pollution really fucks things up.”

You nod as you continue to stare in awe, imagining how beautiful the night sky must be in the older days. As your imagination runs free, you suddenly feel a tiny pang in your chest, as if the beautiful night sky has a painful memory behind it. You clutch your heart in surprise, feeling your heart beat starts to accelerate.

“Are you okay?” Seulgi asks, concern obvious in her tone. You shake your head, gazing at the night sky once more before closing the roof window. “I’m fine. Oh and by the way, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” She says nonchalantly, quietly munching on a red bean bun. You gulp, not knowing why you suddenly feel so nervous. “Was i always like this when i see stars?”

Seulgi stops chewing, tilting her head slightly. “Like this?”

“Yeah, I mean, happy. Is there a time where i don’t feel happy when i see stars?” You fiddle with your fingers, looking anywhere but her eyes. She doesn’t immediately reply, as if quietly trying to find the right words. “Yes, and no. There wasn’t a time where you don’t feel happy when you see the stars.”

Holding back a pained choke from the sudden pang in your heart, you nod.

“I see.”

♡

You’re very lucky to be alive.

At least that’s what people told you. You don’t know how bad your injuries were that people always say that whenever they meet you. You think its odd that no matter how hard you try, you can’t remember a thing about the accident. Everyone say that it was a car accident. How and when exactly, they never spare you the details.

You remember waking up in a white hospital bed with both Yukhei and Seulgi sitting right next to your bed, but it was nearly 4 years ago. Yukhei says that you were in a comma for quite some time so you couldn’t really know the exact time of your accident.

Everything about it feels odd, and yet you never really question it. You tried once, questioning a supposedly old friend of yours, but instead of an explanation, all you got was an unwanted advice.

She said that you should feel grateful that you had a wonderful life even after the accident, having loyal and lovely friends right by your side.

Its not an advice that you need, its not even an advice. Later on Yukhei told you and you and her were never that close to begin with, and it sparks your interest even more. Why would he invite someone you barely even know, and expect you to trust her?

You continue to dig information from all your friends, being careful not to let Yukhei knows about this. Odd enough, most of them keep their mouths shut, not willing to tell the details to their stories that seem all too general.

Their answers are all the same, as if it was scripted. You feel like an outsider, living a life that doesn’t even feel like yours. Hanging out with people that you barely even know, pretending that you do remember them and all the things that you did together.

A wandering soul, is what you are.

♡

Heading home from Seulgi’s apartment, you make your way to the train station. Yukhei will be home early today, and you don’t want him to know that you visit Seulgi frequently.

Looking at the train schedule, you immediately start to sprint towards the train doors that are slowly closing in. Its dangerous, but you can’t afford to wait for another 30 minutes.

Entering the train just a mere second before it completely closes, you let out a relieved sigh. However, the train is packed and you struggle to make your way into the train. You let out a gasp when the train suddenly moves forward, launching your body backwards.

A strong pair of hands catches you just in time, holding onto your arms just before you could touch the ground. You immediately stand up, ready to apologize and to thank the person who has helped you. However, when you look up at them, your voice leaves you.

He is simply breath-taking, with dark hazel eyes and plush lips that is slowly curving into a beautiful smile, standing tall right in front of you with a long coat hugging his model-like figure.

“ Y/n.....?”

Your eyes widen when he calls you by your name, wondering if he’s actually one of your old friends that you fail to remember. “I’m sorry, but do i know you?”

He looks at you with a gentle gaze, so gentle and delicate that not even Yukhei ever gazes at you that way.

“It is you.”

Seeing his glassy orbs, you start to panic. You feel uncomfortable when people cry, because it makes you want to cry as well. “P-Please don’t cry.”

The stranger shakes his head, a hearty laugh leaving his lips. “I know, you don’t like it when i cry because it makes you feel sad too.”

He must be important in my life. You bite your lips, desperately trying to remember a name and a story behind his now all too familiar face.

“Its me, y/n. Don’t you remember me?” He stares at you gently with glassy eyes, tears threatening to fall any second. You don’t know if he’s crying because of happiness or grief, the mixed signals he sends off are making your head hurt. You shake your head, desperately trying to recall any memories with him in it. “I’m sorry, I don’t. I’m trying so hard but I still don’t remember you.”

He stays still for a moment, eyes casting downside as the smile on his face starts to fall. He then looks up, a forced smile on his face. “Its okay, I get it. You don’t want to remember. I just want to apologize, I never had the chance to before.”

Apologize? All the things he said makes you even more confused. If he’s really an important part of your life, why are you so clueless about this? Why do Yukhei and Seulgi never mention about him?

“I’m really sorry if i hurt or offend you in anyway but I really can’t remember. I had an accident a few years ago, and I can’t really remember anything before that.” You say in a small voice, not wanting other people to hear it. His eyes widen when he hears you, the tears in the corner of his eyes slowly melting. You’re taken aback by his reaction, quickly reaching into your purse to get a pack of tissue. You immediately offer him some, but he doesn’t even tear his gaze away from you.

“A-Accident? When?” His voice is barely audible, just above a whisper. You nod slowly, opting to just carefully dab his tears away yourself. The act feels so natural, as if it happens a lot before. You offer him a small smile. “Its okay, it happened like 4 years ago. I’m fine now.”

Hearing your reply, more tears spill from his eyes. Your eyes widen when you see him crying, wondering what makes him cry.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” You say gently, voice wavering slightly from holding your own tears. He shakes his head, wiping the tears from his eyes. Then he whispers. “I’m sorry.”

You raise your eyebrow in confusion. “What? Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong...”

He lifts his head up, his still glassy orbs looking straight into your soul. “I’m so sorry, y/n.”

“What are yo-“

You snap out of your thoughts when you hear your stop being called, forgetting what you were about to say in an instant.

“Be careful, alright?” He suddenly says, a painful smile hanging on his lips. Your heart wants you to stay, the identity of the mysterious guy sparks your interest so much. But Yukhei will be upset if you aren’t home when he comes home. Conflicted, you stay still in front of the open doors, mentally debating with yourself.

“Go home, y/n. Its okay.”

You turn your attention back to him, who is now slowly disappearing into the crowd, away from the train doors, from you. “Wait!”

He stops, although still not facing you.

“Tell me your name.” You say gently, but still loud enough for him to hear. He stays still for a second, before looking back at you. He parts his lips but nothing comes out, almost as if he’s re-thinking his decision. He then shakes his head, forcing a smile onto his face.

“Jaemin.”

♡

“Baby, where were you? I’ve been looking for you all day!”

You snap out of your thoughts when you hear Yukhei’s deep voice, not exactly aware of your surroundings. You look around, wondering how did you manage to walk all the way back home without even realizing it. You then look up at him, meeting his worried gaze.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?” Yukhei asks, hands going over your forehead to check your body temperature. You shake your head gently, offering him a small smile. “I’m okay. I was at Se--Irene’s house today, I’m sorry that I made you worried.”

Yukhei breaks into a smile, pulling you into a hug. He then presses a kiss on the top of your head. “Its okay, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

You wrap your hands around him, burying your face into his chest. The strong sweet scent of his vanilla cologne fills in your nostrils, and you fight the urge to gag. For some reason you never like the scent so much.

“I bought cheesecake on the way home, let’s eat it while we watch a movie.” Yukhei smiles, beckoning you to the kitchen. You nod and follow him into the kitchen, mind still fazed. Yukhei cut a big portion of the cheesecake for the both of you, while you quickly make a jug of iced lemon tea.

When you walk into the living room, Yukhei has already put a movie on, sitting on the couch comfortably. You put the iced lemon tea on the small coffee table and take a sit next to him, immediately welcomed by his arms.

As the movie starts, Yukhei becomes more and more focused on the movie. You, however, find yourself restless. You’re unable to focus at watching the movie, despite it being one of your favorites. Staring blankly at the wide screen of the TV, your brain keeps showing you an image of the man in the train. You glance at Yukhei’s focused expression, deciding something that you haven’t even realized you’ve been thinking this whole time.

For now, Yukhei doesn’t have to know.

♡

It has been a week since you met Jaemin, and he has not leave your mind since then. You say his name numerous times, but not even the slightest bit of memory comes.

“Jaemin.....” You hum as you look through your high school yearbook, hoping to get a clue about his identity. You scrunch up your face as you scan the pages quickly, having to scan all the pages because you have no clue about Jaemin’s family name.

“Na Hyemi... What an interesting surname.” You mumble, scanning the page quickly. You then flip the page, only to flip it back in a matter of second, noticing the name that you’ve been looking for just under the name that you just said earlier.

Na Jaemin.

The photo is ridiculously small, and you have to squint your eyes to get a better look. Considering that this photo was taken years ago, you do not expect any resemblances between the photo and the young man that you met on a train a week ago. But when you see the same beautiful smile from the man on the train, you know its him.

Your finger ghosts over the photo, as you try your best to recall any memories. A vivid image of his beautiful smile pops into your mind, but there’s nothing else. No memories about the reason behind his smile, no memories about what he was smiling about, there’s nothing else but his smile.

His smile is so bright and contagious. You think as you look at the blurry photo, unconsciously starting to smile as well. The yearbook offers no information but a name and a quote underneath the picture, and you let out a hearty laugh when you read the sentence under his photo.

Do you have a name? Or can i call you mine?

You shake your head in disbelief, mildly amused that an 18 years old Jaemin was such a flirt. “This isn’t even a quote.”

Although you can’t remember anything other than his smile, you continue to flip through the page, just to see what your quote was. Finding your name in an instant, your eyes widen when you read the words underneath your photo.

I do have a name, but you can call me anytime.

You visibly cringe, but you can’t help but to laugh it out. “Turns out mine was just as bad.”

Your smile widens when you read the two quotes, knowing very well that you both planned this out. Its heart-warming, to be able to get a glimpse of your relationship with Jaemin in the past. You aren’t sure what it was, but judging from these yearbook quotes, the two of you must’ve been very close.

Closing the book with a smile on your face, you can’t wait to discover more about Jaemin.

“Maybe Yukhei knows something about him...” You mumble, walking to the living room to search for your boyfriend. You find him lounging on the couch, eyes half lidded and mouth agape. Giggling, you playfully pinch the tip of his nose to wake him up from his half asleep state. He blinks a couple of times, closing his mouth instantly. “What’s wrong, honey?”

The pet name sounds so familiar yet so foreign, almost like you used to hear it a lot but not in that tone, or voice. Shrugging off the thoughts, you proceed to show him the yearbook. “Do you know him?”

Yukhei squints his eyes at the small photo, leaning closer to the pages. He then presses his lips into a thin line, the sleepiness gone in a matter of second. He then take the book from your hand and closes it, putting it on the table rather harshly. “Never seen him before.”

You frown as you take the book once more, opening it once more to show him the photo. Its almost impossible that Yukhei doesn’t know him if the two of you used to be really close. “Na Jaemin—you must’ve known him, right? Look! We even have corres-”

“No, I have never heard of such an odd name and stop talking nonsense. Its coincidence, everyone knows that.” He cut you off rudely, tone and gaze as cold as ice. He takes the book from your hand once more, this time putting it on his lap. “You weren’t popular, not everyone in this book is your friends.”

You quietly stand up, feeling the pain from his sharp words. It makes you wonder what role does Jaemin play in your life to make Yukhei that upset just at the mention of his name?

Yukhei’s wrath and blatant lie about not knowing such an odd name makes you even more curious, even after a week after Yukhei tells you to forget about it.

Of course, Yukhei notices your unusual behavior for the past week. And he isn’t very happy about it. Its one thing that you still can’t stand about him, even after all these years. Yukhei is a hot blooded person, getting very irritated when you don’t give him the attention and affection that he needs. At first you thought he was just clingy, but after awhile his tantrum is getting worse and unreasonable.

Much like today.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong? What did i do to deserve this kind of treatment?” You sigh for the nth time that day, frustrated. Usually you would just apologize and cuddle him until he gives in, but this time you can’t. It happens way too much and the reason behind his tantrum is becoming more and more ridiculous.

Yukhei squints his eyes at you, eyebrows raised. Its as if he is looking down on you like you’re a fool for not knowing. This irritates you so much that you decide its not worth your time.

“You know what? Keep doing that for as long as you want. I’m heading out.” You snap, getting your purse and coat. Yukhei immediately stands up, holding tight onto your arms. You expect to see a hint of regret in his glinting orbs, but what you see is rage. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You’re terrified, his deep voice alone is enough to make you shrivel into a ball. But when you remember Jaemin, and the fact that Yukhei lied to you about him, you make up your mind. You forcefully remove his grip on your arm, quickly trying to leave before he could stop you.

“Anywhere but here.”

You shut the door behind you and quickly run away, trying to run as far as you can. You stop running after awhile, realizing that he isn’t chasing after you, which could be both a good thing and a bad thing. You sigh as you stand in the middle of an unfamiliar street, the moon and the dim lighting of the nearby shops are the only source of light. You tilt your head upwards, hoping that the bright little stars could cheer you up even just a little bit. It seems like the universe senses your grief because for the first time in years, there are no stars illuminating the night.

♡

“Do you need an extra blanket? I think you do.”

You sigh in content as you sip a cup of hot chamomile tea, a blanket pooling around your torso. “Its okay, this one is warm enough.”

Seulgi squints her eyes at you. “Are you sure? You look cold.”

You stay quiet, eyes staring off into the distance. Your mind wanders, and you start to wonder if your decision to leave the house is the right thing to do. After all, Yukhei does take a very good care of you, always making sure that you’re safe and happy. You don’t know why all of the sudden you’re being so impulsive, but a part of you just know that its because of the sudden appearance of Jaemin.

“y/n are you listeni-“

“Can i ask you a question?” You cut her off, blank orbs staring up at her. Seulgi raises her eyebrow, confused by your sudden question. “Well, Sure, Why not?”

You let out a sigh. “But you have to promise me you will tell me the truth.”

“Wha-This feels kinda creepy.” Seulgi jokingly says, although you could sense the concern in her voice. You stare up at her, trying to convince her that you’re being serious. “Please.”

She gulps, changing her sitting position. “Okay, I promise.”

You nod, silently thanking her for agreeing. “Tell me all you know about Na Jaemin.”

♡

“Childhood friend. Is that it?”

She nods, although you could clearly tell that she isn’t so sure either.

Listening to her doesn’t seem so fun tonight, as you could easily detect the lies that she throws here and there. You’re disappointed, to say the least. At first you try to let it go, seeing that neither Seulgi nor Yukhei want to talk about him. But you quickly change your mind when you notice that her stories don’t add up.

“Earlier you said that me and Jaemin used to be very close, right? When did Yukhei comes into the picture? And where is Jaemin now? Why do you never mention him in any of your stories?” Question after question spill from your parted lips, a result of such a vague story. She sighs, covering her face with her palms. “He was also your friend, but you and Jaemin were much closer. Look y/n, that’s all i can tell. There are things that i just couldn’t tell. Trust me, its for your own good.”

At first you think she will be willing to help you, but much to your dismay, she’s on the same boat as Yukhei. You stand up, too fed up with the lies that she continuously tries to offer.

“Where are you going? Its 2 AM.” Seulgi stands up as well, ready to stop you. You shake your head as you collect your things, refusing to answer her verbally.

“Why are you acting like this?” She says loudly, clearly frustrated. You stop in your tracks, her words ringing in your ears. In that moment, you know you shouldn’t trust her as much as you used to anymore. “Is it wrong for me to try and dig up about my own life? My own life that i used to live? Is it a crime that i want to know who i was in the past??”

Seulgi doesn’t say anything, standing still in her previous position in the middle of the living room. You shake your head, making your way towards the front door. “I’m leaving.”

“...Lovers.”

You turn around to face her, mildly surprised that she decides to answer. “So he was my lover. Why is it so hard to explain?”

Seulgi sighs, sitting back down on the couch. “Because its not that simple. He was, in a way, the reason why you got into an accident.”

Is that why he’s apologizing? You squint your eyes at her, not truly believing her words. “How?”

“You were both in a fight, I don’t know what the topic was about, you never told me. Before either one of you could apologize however, something terrible happened.” She slowly says, her voice trembling. “And because of that something, you changed. We all changed in a way, but you... you changed a lot. You lost interest in everything, college, music, arts, even the stars.”

You press your lips into a thin line, feeling a mixed emotion. How horrible something must have been if it makes you lost your interest in the thing that keeps you happy?

She looks up at you, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. “You were distracted, and one day you crossed the road without looking first… That’s when the accident took place.”

You stay quiet, trying to digest all of her words at once. How is it Jaemin’s fault that you got involved in an accident?

“You said that there was a moment when I lost interest in everything right?” You ask carefully. She nods, her eyes seem a little dull. “and how is it Jaemin’s fault?”

“And if it is then why didn’t Jaemin try to cheer me up? I thought you said he was my boyfriend?” You raise your eyebrow, mind full of questions.

She stays silent at first, avoiding your questioning gaze.

“Seulgi.”

She let out a sigh. “Because he can’t. Even if he wants to, he can’t.”

You stare at her with wonder. “What kind of boyf-“

“He died in an accident, y/n.”

You feel as if your heart drops into your stomach, the feeling unfamiliar and so extreme that you feel physically sick.

Seulgi sighs for the nth time that day. “That something terrible was his death. He was on his way to your house to apologize, but he never made it.”

That’s what he was apologizing for. You feel your throat getting dry, the memory suddenly comes in like a train wreck. The atmosphere in the room when it happened, the fight, the harsh words that you both exchanged, it all suddenly dawns on you. Your eyes widen as realization hits you, tears threatening to fall.

“Yukhei.”

Seulgi raises her eyebrow, as she tilts her head in confusion. “What about him?”

Your eyes flutter shut as all the memories start to flood in, filling your head with both beautiful and unwanted ones. “The fight. It was about Yukhei.”

“It-It was?” She whispers, eyes wide in disbelief. You nod curtly, tears starting to fall.

“Yukhei was never my boyfriend to begin with, wasn’t he?”

No answers come out of her mouth, but you could see the regret written on her face. “I’m so sorry, y/n.”

The pain that you feel right now is unbearable, knowing that all the people around you that you trust, have been lying to you this whole time. It feels like your whole life just crumbles right in front of your eyes, and you’re unable to stop it from doing so, knowing barely anything about yourself.

“So this is all a lie?” You say, voice just above a whisper. “The life that i’m currently living in, its all a lie?”

She shakes her head, standing up immediately. “y/n, there’s a reason-“

“So it is a lie. A big fat lie created by both you and Yukhei and for what? So i could get on with my life without knowing who i was? Without even remembering the people in my life?” You shake your head, letting your tears fall without a care in the world. Seulgi moves to hug you, but you immediately take a step back. Overwhelmed by the situation, you know its better for you to avoid her and Yukhei.

She doesn’t say anything when you avoid her hug, and takes a deep breath instead. “That’s why i never told you. Both me and Yukhei decided that its best for you to-“

“Don’t.” You take a deep breath. “Don’t you dare finish your sentence. I know what is best for me, not you, not Yukhei.”

She seems a little surprised of your rather aggressive reply, but she doesn’t stop. “No, you don’t. Because like you said before, you don’t have a clue about your past life, but we do. We know-“

“We weren’t even that close.” You cut her off once more, not bothering to keep your voice down anymore. “What kind of best friend are you if I didn’t even trust you enough to tell you about my love life??”

She opens his mouth to reply, but you quickly cut her off.

“Both you and Yukhei are telling me my life from your point of views, but how could you do that if we weren’t even that close? How would you know what i was really feeling?” You’re practically shouting, unable to hide the distress in your voice.

She gasps, and unconsciously takes a step back, her eyes widened slightly. Your words are straight forward and sharp and you know it could hurt her feelings, but right now, you’re the one who’s hurting the most.

“Thank you for your bed time stories and all, but i think its best for me to ask the person that you’ve been trying so hard to hide from me this whole time.” You unlock the door and open it, ready to step out anytime, not expecting for another reply.

To your surprise, Seulgi does reply.

“How? By using a fucking Ouija board? Do you not hear me?? He’s dead, y/n. He’s been dead for 4 years!” She exclaims, frustration clear in her tone. Its funny how she looks regretful at first but now she turns all red and angry. With all the lies she has been feeding you, you’re not even surprised anymore.

Stepping out of the apartment, you look back at her.

“That’s what you think.”

She gasps, unable to form a coherent sentence as she watches you walk off into the distance.

“He’s dead! People could easily claim to be him, y/n. You don’t even remember him!” You could hear her voice in the distance, but you pay it no mind and continue walking. Getting into the small elevator, you could see Seulgi standing in front of her door, frustration written all over her face. She’s still trying to convince you to forget everything and to go back inside, but you choose to ignore her. You press the close button, ignoring her whole existence as the door slowly closes.

♡

Walking with your hands in your pocket, you have no idea where to go. You don’t have anyone in your life other than Yukhei and Seulgi. But you do not have even an ounce of regret, knowing that they are the cause of your distress. You let out a sigh as you come across a small bench, deciding to take a sit just for a moment. You look around, realizing that there’s no one around, not a person, not even a cat. You know its dangerous to be outside at such an ungodly hour, but you don’t have a place to go, a place to call home.

Your mind wanders to Seulgi’s words from before as you stare at the dull sky. Is Jaemin really dead?

You try to remember anything, any memories with Jaemin in it, but your encounter with him on the train and the fight are all you could think of. You sigh as you close your eyes, trying to hold in your tears as you recall the fight that ruined everything.

◇

“He’s my friend, Jaemin. He’s OUR friend!” You shout in frustration, massaging your temple. Jaemin lets out a groan, hands balled up into fists. “How blind can you be?! He asks you out on a date multiple times! And you still think that his intention is friendly?!”

You shake your head, clearly disagreeing with his opinion. “He doesn’t ask me out on a date, He only asks me to show him around the city! He’s nothing more than a friend! Why are you being so stubborn?!”

Jaemin looks at you with what you could decipher as disgust, and the rage in his eyes intensifies. With a dangerously low voice, he makes his statement clear. “He sent you a flower bouquet on your birthday.”

“Well maybe he-“

Jaemin cuts you off. “He told you to ditch me while you were waiting for me.”

You frown, folding your arms. “Maybe its because you were-“

Jaemin takes a step closer, staring down at you with his brows furrowed. “He followed us while we were on a date.”

“Jae-“

“He fucking tried to kiss you, for god’s sake!” He exclaims, throwing his hands out of frustration. Your eyes widen as you try to come up with a denial. “I-It wasn’t-“

“I saw you. I saw how he looked at you that night. I saw how he pulled you into his embrace. And the worst part is you weren’t even trying to resist him before I fucking came.” He spits out, venom laced in his voice. Your eyes widen as you unconsciously take a step back, startled by his harsh words. Jaemin shakes his head, and turns to leave.

“Defend him all you want, y/n. Might as well let him have you while you’re at it.”

You don’t know what happens, because you find yourself enraged by his words.

“Atleast Yukhei would never say such things to me.”

Jaemin stops in his track, turning his face sideways to look at you with spine-chilling gaze. “What did you just say?”

“Yukhei will never hurt me. He will never say those things to me!” You shout, tears threatening to fall from the painful words Jaemin said earlier. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe Yukhei is trying to take me away from you. And you know what? I should’ve fucking let him!”

Jaemin is now facing you completely, the burning rage in his eyes is prominent even from a distance. “Say that again I dare you.”

You let your tears fall down as you stare back at him with almost the same amount of rage.

“Falling in love with you is a mistake.”

◇

You stare at the sky blankly, wondering how depressed he must’ve been after you said those regretful words. And most importantly, how depressed you must’ve been when you realize that its the last words you said to him.

You let out a sigh as you let your tears escape, regretting your poor choice of words. You want to do nothing but to apologize, but you don’t even know where he is right now. You don’t even know if the man that you met on the train was really him, or just a part of your imagination.

You’re not completely sure the reason behind your tears, as everything seem to upset you. Yukhei’s and Seulgi’s lies, your fight with Jaemin, Jaemin’s accident, your encounter with Jaemin, it all feels like a huge drama.

Do they really lie? Or you’re just suspicious of them? Do you really meet Jaemin? Or Is he really dead? Its too much to take in, and its making you crazy.

You don’t know who you are, or who you used to be, and if it isn’t the worst thing that could happen, what else?

You yelp in surprise when you feel a cold hand gripping your arm, immediately scrambling away. It is now that you finally realize that maybe staying at Seulgi’s apartment for the night doesn’t seem too bad.

“Let go!” You desperately try to break free, but the person doesn’t let go, only tightening his grip on you.

“y/n! Calm down!”

Huh? Cautiously, you look up. All your movements stop the moment you lay your eyes at him, your arms falling to your side. You feel your eyes start to water, as your body begins to tremble.

“Jaemin.”

He releases his grip on your arm, concern written all over his face. “Are you okay? Why are you out here in the middle of the night?”

His deep, honey like voice triggers another memory, in which he lulls you to sleep on a rainy day. As you see and hear more of him, a little piece of your memories start to come back. And its makes you realize that he really is Jaemin. Hot tears spill down your face, and you find yourself unable to speak out.

“Why are you crying? Are you hurt?” He asks, scanning your body to see if there’s any open wound or bruises. When he finds none, he immediately knows its not physical. “y/n?...”

“I’m sorry.” You manage to speak out, more tears starting to spill. “I didn’t know that—They never—I’m so sorry, Jaemin.”

Although your sentence is not complete, it’s almost like Jaemin knows that you’re trying to say, and pulls you into his embrace instead. The earthy scent fills in your nostrils immediately, and you find your body relaxing at the pleasant scent. It soothes you, but the memory it triggers is only making more tears stream down your face.

You remember Jaemin pulling you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you as you catch a whiff of his freshly-washed hair, hints of patchouli and the slight amber notes making you feel warm and safe.

You close your eyes as the memory hits you, tears falling in a stream. Jaemin doesn’t say anything, gently caressing your hair. He feels his eyes getting wet as well, the sight of you crying breaking his heart. He doesn’t know why you’re crying, or why you’re apologizing, but he knows it has something to do with him.

The moment your tears start to stop, you immediately try to explain yourself. “I’m sorry, I was so blind. I should’ve known that Yukhei was-“

“No, stop.” He cuts you off, gently cupping your cheeks. “I’m the one who should apologize. I was the one at fault, not you.”

You notice the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes, and you find yourself tearing up once again. “No, Its mine. I sh-“

Your words are cut off the moment Jaemin lays his lips on your forehead, the act feels so natural that it leaves you feeling a lot better. He pulls back and smiles, although the tears are still there. “We have a lot to talk about, but i think it’s a good idea if we go somewhere safe first.”

You give him a small nod, wiping off your tears with the hem of your sweater. He stands up and offers you his hand, which you gladly take. He doesn’t say a single word, only squeezing your fingers occasionally. But its enough to remind you how natural it feels to have his hand in yours, how natural it feels to have him close to you.

♡

“Come on in.”

You step into the house, the strong earthy scent hitting you right in the face. The familiar scent of the house makes you feel safe almost immediately, your shoulders visibly relax at the first whiff of the scent.

The house is small, only consisting of one bedroom, a living room and a small kitchen. Jaemin doesn’t have a lot of furniture either, the simplicity of the house makes it more appealing to your eyes. It stuns you at how much you two share the same preferences.

However, your gaze lands on the ceiling of his bedroom, and you unconsciously walk into the room to take a closer look. Jaemin doesn’t really know what catches your attention, so he follows you to his room. When he catches you staring at the ceiling, his lips curve into a small smile.

“Its a roof window.” He says as he walks closer towards you, staring at the glass window with a small smile on his face. “So I could see the stars.”

You nod, a rather sour smile hanging on your lips. “I know. I have one too.”

Jaemin raises his eyebrow at your sudden change of mood. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like it? You used to like stars.”

“I do, and I still like them.” You gulp, looking up at him. “But we have a lot to talk about, other than the stars.”

Jaemin nods, laying down on the bed. You watch as he lies down, not knowing what to do. He then pats the spot next to him, signalling you to lie down as well, and so you do. Both of you stay quiet for a moment, staring at the dark night sky in silence.

“What else do you remember?” Jaemin breaks the silence, his voice slightly wavering. You let out a small sigh, gazing at the dark night sky. “Not much. I remember you lulling me to sleep...”

His lips curve into a smile at the beautiful moment, partly relieved that you remember it. “What else?....”

There’s a pause before you answer his question, as you try to carefully choose your words. “The fight.”

Jaemin visibly flinches when he hears you, the smile on his face vanishes in an instant. Silence fills the small room as you both try to come up with another ice breaker.

“You know,” Jaemin starts. “We used to spend hours just staring at the stars.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. He runs his fingers through his hair, a small smile hanging on his lips. “I don’t know if you remember this, but we used to lay out some mattresses on the backyard and snuggle up together while looking at the stars, talking about our dreams.”

Just the thought of it is beautiful, and you find yourself smiling. Jaemin lets out a small sigh, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. “I know there’s a lot of things that we have to talk about, but talking about the stars makes me feel—"

“Happy.” You finish his sentence, feeling the same exact thing whenever you look at the stars. Jaemin turns to face you, a small smile hanging on his lips. “Yes. Just like how you make me feel.”

Your heart starts to beat faster as the blood rushes to your cheeks, tinting it with deep pink hue. Jaemin chuckles when he sees your flushed cheeks, a beautiful sound that easily becomes your favorite.

“It has been quite some time since the last time I made you blush.” He smiles, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. You stay quiet at his words, trying to calm your heartbeat down. Its strangely beautiful how he could turn you into a blushing mess with just a sentence or two. You haven’t even remembered a lot about him, but the impact that he has on you is unimaginable.

“How do you find out? About us?...” Jaemin breaks the silence, his deep voice sounds heavenly in your ears. The smile on your face disappears as you remember what happened earlier, a small sigh leaving your lips. “I don’t really want to talk about it... ”

Jaemin nods, there isn’t any hint of annoyance on his tone. “Its okay, If it makes you upset then you don’t have to.”

“Can we... talk about us?” You quietly ask, turning your head to face him. “Our relationship, what was it like?”

A small smile appears on his face as he turns to face you. “Its perfect.”

Before you could reply, he quickly adds, “For us, at least.”

“How do you know I also feel the same about our relationship?” You look up at him, staring at him in wonder. Jaemin chuckles, leaning closer towards you. “Because we always talk everything out.”

“We grew up together, and we were attached to the hips. You would cry whenever I get sick, and I would do the same too. It was such an innocent time back then.” He continues, his smile getting wider as he recalls the beautiful memories that you still can’t remember. But you can visualize it, and for now its more than enough. “And then?”

Jaemin’s smile softens, his gaze lands on your cheeks. “I remember when I accidentally kissed your cheeks, back when we were still in junior high school.”

“Accidentally?” You raise your eyebrow, a small grin hanging on your lips. He let out hearty laughs as he shakes his head. “To be honest, not really.”

Laughing along with him, you feel genuinely happy and its the first time you feel such a wonderful feeling. Although you still can’t remember anything, his smile is enough to assure you that the memory really is beautiful.

“How did we end up together?” You ask, looking up at him with wide eyes. Jaemin winces, but the grin on his face shows that he reacts in a good way. “Its really stupid and awkward, are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Certainly.” You let out a chuckle, already grinning because of his reaction. Jaemin shakes his head, the silly grin still plastered on his face. “Fine then.”

You immediately sit up and face him, an excited grin decorating your face.

“Well you ask for it.” Jaemin grins, sitting up to match your eye level. “Back in high school, I used to be friends with this guy named Jeno. You might remember him, he was pretty popular.”

You scrunch up your face as you try to remember any Jeno in your life. “Is he the one who looks like that big ass statue on Easter island?”

Jaemin breaks out into a fit of chuckles, his voice resonating in the small room. “You remember him!”

You grin, happy because you succeeded in remembering your old friend and happy because you made Jaemin laugh.

After a few moments Jaemin finally stops chuckling, his hand clutching his stomach. He then leans back against the headboard of the bed. “Well, I’ve been wanting to confess to you even before I met Jeno, but it’s hard to build up the courage. I’m not afraid of rejection, I’m afraid of what might happens after that.”

“I’m afraid that I would lose you, forever. At that time I thought I would rather continue living my normal life with you as my best friend, even if it means that I have to hide—or possibly get rid of my feelings for you.” He let out a sigh, offering you a thin smile. You then scoot closer towards him. You take a seat right next to him, your shoulders touching his. “You told me its a stupid story, not a sad one.”

“Jeno made it stupid, honestly.” He laughs, fingers reaching out to yours. “When he knew about my feelings for you, he immediately told me to confess. He told me to give you a surprise, and I was dumb enough to believe him.”

You look up a him with a small smile. “Surprises are great, though.”

“Not so great when it involves me sneaking into your room in the middle of the night while holding a huge bouquet of roses.”

“What?....”

He winces, noticing how creepy it must’ve sounded for you. “I didn’t know why I agreed either.”

“What happened then?” You ask, mildly amused. Jaemin pinches the bridge of his nose, a small embarrassed sigh comes out of his parted lips. “You hit me with an umbrella.”

“I—What?...”

Jaemin sighs, looking up at you with an embarrassed grin on his face. “It was dark, and you weren’t fully awake. It didn’t hurt, but It sure was unexpected. I don’t blame you though, I’m blaming Jeno for coming up with the idea and I’m blaming myself for agreeing with such a stupid idea.”

You let out a chuckle. “I mean, that’s pretty stupid.”

“That’s not even the dumbest part.” He quickly adds, already covering his face out of embarrassment. “After you hit me with the umbrella for a full minute you just kind of... fell asleep.”

“I... fell asleep?”

Jaemin nods, already cracking another smile. “You did.”

You cover your face in embarrassment, awkward chuckles pouring out of your lips. “That’s more embarrassing than stupid.”

“Do you remember any of it?” Jaemin asks, his tone genuine. You shake your head, disappointed in yourself for not being able to remember such precious memories. Jaemin ruffles your hair gently, a reassuring smile decorating his face. “Its okay, I’ll guide you through this.”

You nod as you move closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Well, the next day I didn’t know how to act around you because I didn’t know if you’re actually awake or not when you hit me. It was pretty awkward until you casually came to my desk, telling me how you dreamt about hitting someone with an umbrella.” He looks at you, a grin sitting on his face. “And I didn’t know how to react so I just kind of blurted out ‘Its me.’ And we both kind of just went silent.”

“That is so awkward I want to die just from imagining it.” You let out a small groan, although the grin on your face remains there. Jaemin laughs at your reaction, pulling you closer. “It wasn’t that bad!”

You scrunch up your face. “It was that bad!”

He chuckles, pressing your head against his chest. “I’m still glad that it happened, though. Having you in my life is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You feel the sudden urge to wrap your arms around him, and you do just that. Jaemin let out a content sigh when he feels your small arm around him, putting his hand on top of yours. After a few moments of silence, you could feel the change in the atmosphere. “What’s wrong?...”

He shakes his head, pulling you closer onto him. “Its just that.... we’ve come to my least favourite part of the story.”

You look up at him with a reassuring smile. “Its okay if you don’t want to, I’m alre—”

“No, I have to.” He cuts you off. “You deserve to know what happened.”

You can’t help but to nod in agreement, knowing that he is right and you deserve to know the real story.

“This might sound odd but the reason why all of our friends thought that I was dead its because I was declared dead for a good 7 minutes.” He says, his deep voice sounds even deeper than usual. You look up at him, confusion written all over your face. “How?”

He chuckles humorlessly. “My heart stopped beating for those minutes, but the doctor refused to give up on me. It was a miracle, really.”

“Indeed.” You quietly reply, scooting closer towards him. He notices this and intertwines your fingers together, closing the distance between your bodies. “I didn’t immediately wake up, but when I finally did i didn’t remember anything. So my parents brought me out of the country, to get a better medical treatment so i could get my memory back. I guess they didn’t tell anyone about my condition back then.”

He then takes a deep breath, the smile on his face slowly disappearing. “I remember about you, about us. That’s why I came back.”

Your heart skips when you hear his words, something that rarely happens even when Yukhei does something special for you, but happens so easily when Jaemin isn’t even trying.

“My parents thought its better to reach out to you and my friends here in Korea after I got my memories back.” He says, a brittle smile plastered on his face. You look up at him, noticing the way his voice starts to get more and more shaky. “Jaemin....”

He then takes a deep breath, glassy orbs gazing at the sky. “But it wasn’t that easy.”

“I spent months looking for you, I visited your house but it’s empty, and the neighbors said that it has been empty for quite some time. That day when we met on the train, was another miracle.” He finally turns to face you, his smile becoming more genuine. He then gently caresses your cheeks, hazel orbs gazing at you softly. “I was shocked, confused and happy at the same time. I wanted to pull you into my arms like i used to, but when I see the confusion on your face, I knew I couldn’t.”

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, unable to bring yourself up to see the pain in his eyes.

“I regret letting you go that day. I should’ve made you stay on that train. But seeing you so clueless and confused, I just couldn’t bring myself to ask you to come with me—A stranger.” He continues, cold hand caressing your hair softly. He then pulls away just so he could look at your face. He gently lifts your head up, forcing you to face him. “To be honest, I consider tonight a miracle as well.”

“Jae—“

“But what i really want to know is why were you crying? What happened?” He asks gently, eyes hooded as he gazes at you with a hint of sorrow in his orbs. You know he’s going to ask that eventually, and you don’t have any other choice but to tell the truth. “Its a long story though...”

Jaemin squeezes your finger as he offers you a warm smile.

“We have all night.”

♡

Fluttering your eyes open, you let out a small yawn as you roll over to the other side of the bed. You’re slightly surprised when a body stops you from doing so, wondering why isn’t Yukhei at work already. However, when you look a little bit closer, that sleeping figure doesn’t look anything like Yukhei.

You almost squeal in horror because of the supposedly stranger in your bed, but quickly notice that it isn’t your bed either. Looking around, you notice that its not even your room.

Oh my god where am I?? Your breath starts to quicken as you frantically search for your phone, being careful not to wake the other person up. You quickly find your phone at the night stand, connected to a charger. Huh?

“Good morning.”

You immediately turn around to face the now-awake stranger, only to see a very familiar face. You let out a relieved sigh as you remember what happened last night, letting Jaemin pulls you into his embrace. “You fell asleep mid-story last night—Just like you always do.”

His voice sounds deeper, and a little bit hoarse from the deep sleep. You find yourself smiling, such a rare thing to happen in the early mornings. “I’m sorry, I was exhausted.”

“Its okay, you looked adorable.” He sighs contently as he snuggles closer, his lips curving up into a smile. You haven’t remembered a lot of things about him nor your relationship, much to your dismay. But you’ve noticed the way your body relaxes just at the sound of his voice, you’ve noticed how easy it is for him to make you blush, you’ve noticed how your body reacts to him being by your side. You think it as a sign. A sign that this is where you truly belong, In his arms.

You want to stay like this forever, safe and sound in Jaemin’s embrace, but you know that life doesn’t work that way. You let out a sigh as you cover your face with your palms. Jaemin tries to pry off your fingers, concern obvious in his tone. “What’s wrong?”

“What about Yukhei?” You look up at him, trying to look for answers. Jaemin knows what Yukhei did, and he isn’t happy about it. You had to calm him down last night when you told him what happened the day that you first woke up.

Hearing Yukhei’s name, He scrunches up his face, visibly upset. But he stays quiet, as if he’s actually trying to think of a rational solution. You find his hand and intertwine your fingers together, squeezing it gently. “To be fair, he has been treating me well these past years.”

“I know.” Jaemin replies softly. “That’s why i’m trying to think of the best solution.”

You don’t want to lose him, ever again, but you don’t want to hurt Yukhei either. Yukhei has done terrible things both to you and Jaemin, but he treats you well when Jaemin couldn’t. On the other side, you haven’t remembered everything about Jaemin and your relationship in the past, but it feels so right to have him by your side. You know your heart longs for Jaemin but you couldn’t just ditch Yukhei like that.

“Does this count as cheating?” You whisper, voice barely audible. Jaemin shakes his head, squeezing your hand in his. “Technically, no. I was still your boyfriend when he one-sidedly declared himself as your boyfriend.”

You nod as a reply, not knowing what to respond.

“I think what matters is your feelings right now.” He adds, cupping your face with his hands. He presses his forehead against yours, the tip of your noses bumping slightly. “If you want to be with him then its okay, I will be fine. After all, I was the one who left you—in a way.”

The smile he has on is genuine, but it doesn’t represent happiness or some sort. Seeing him smile in such a painful way hurts you, almost to the point of crying. You gently shake your head, letting out a sigh. “To be honest, I still can’t remember a lot about you and our past...”

Jaemin shuts his eyes tightly as he prepares himself for the worst.

“But I want to be with you.” You whisper, hiding your flushing cheeks in the crook of his neck.

Jaemin pulls back abruptly, eyes wide. But then his gaze softens, a hint of grief in his hazel orbs. “Are you sure? I’m basically a stranger to you.”

You could hear the pain in his tone, as if he doesn’t actually want to say those words but has to. But he has a point. Although he used to be your lover, at this point he’s a stranger in your newly started life.

Gently reaching out to swipe his bangs off his eyes, you offer him a small smile. “Funny, because I never feel so safe around strangers before.”

Jaemin let out a sigh, putting his hand on top of yours. “I’m serious, y/n. What if you hate me, or my personality? Or my living style, my hobbies?”

“Jaemin, you were my boyfriend before. What makes you think I won’t love you like i used to?” You trace his facial feature with your finger softly, familiarizing yourself. “And technically we’ve really never broken up.”

Jaemin sighs, leaning into your gentle touch. “Because this is different. Its like a new blank page, and what if the result is different? Anything could happen, and you could easily—”

His words are cut off the moment you lay your lips on his cheeks, leaving him stunned. His eyes widen for a moment, not expecting you to do that.

“I’ve fallen in love with you before, and even though I don’t know why and how, I’m sure I will fall back in love with you in no time.” Your lips curve into a genuine smile, as you brush the tip of your noses together. “And to be honest, I think I’ve already started.”

Jaemin stays still for a moment, but the corner of his lips start to lift into a smile. He pushes his body up, supporting his weight with his elbows. He leans closer and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. He then lifts your face by the chin, sheepish smiles decorating both of your faces.

“I love you so much.” He whispers, sighing contently. Your heart beats faster, and you find yourself blushing even though there’s nothing to be embarrassed for. You don’t know what to say, tripping over your own words.

Jaemin smiles softly. “Its okay. You don’t have to say it back just yet. Don’t force yourself. I just want to make sure you know that i love you.”

“I know.” You whisper as a reply, cheeks flaming in embarrassment. Jaemin doesn’t reply, instead he pulls you closer, so close that your body is pressed against his. “I miss this.”

“I still can’t remember a lot but i must admit this feels very nice.” You admit, snuggling closer to prove your point. Jaemin chuckles heartily, pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead. You sigh contently at the feeling of his lips against your skin. “You must’ve done this a lot.”

Jaemin pulls back slightly just so he could look at you. “What do you mean?”

“I remember some memories because of certain things, like the smell of your shampoo, it triggers a specific memory. But you’ve kissed me at least 3 times since last night and I still can’t remember a specific memory attached to it, So I’d figure you must’ve done this to me a lot.” You quietly reply, suddenly feeling shy about the topic that you bring up yourself. Jaemin hums as a reply, his hand pulling you closer against his body. “That’s because I haven’t done the real thing yet.”

“What real th—”

Your words are cut off the moment Jaemin lays his lips on yours, the contrast between his chapped lips and your smooth ones is making you feel light-headed. Your eyes flutter shut as the kiss deepens, his lips moving in sync with yours, molding perfectly against each other.

Your eyes slowly open when he pulls away, breaking the kiss that you’ve grown to love in just a matter of second. Jaemin looks at you with a gentle gaze, a small smile decorating his face. “Does it bring back any memories?”

“No, actually.” You answer him honestly, chuckling quietly. Jaemin hums, the smile still sitting on his face. “Don’t worry, though.”

You look at him with wonder, eyebrows raising ever so slightly. Jaemin leans closer as the corner of his lips lift into a playful grin.

“We have all the time that we need to try again.”

#na jaemin #jaemin fic #jaemin fluff #nct fic #nct scenario #nct fluff #nct romance #na jaemin fics #jaemin fics #jaemin romance #nct dream fic #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenario #nct dream fanfiction #nct fanfiction #jaemin fanfiction

301 notes · View notes