#but it just feels like. do you remember those bodycon dresses years ago that had like. a smaller curvier silhouette on them

[scriptaed]

cherry blossom avenue.

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

❀ pairing: jin x reader; 

❀ length: 23.0k;

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

“Don’t be a homewrecker.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just that the truth hurts sometimes. 

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

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

No one would know but Jin. 

The real you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t be a homewrecker.

A baby in her.

A baby.

His fiance. 

A homewrecker.

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

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

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

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

❀ ❀ ❀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—almost perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—ew!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—shut up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s get married if we’re still single by then.” 

“...huh?”

“I said,” only his eyes move to peer down at you effortlessly, “if we both lose the bet, then let’s get married.”

Your eyes pop and you can only utter the few words that reach you, “to each other?” 

“No, to food,” he says sarcastically, grabbing a piece of his bread and stuffing your face with it when you continue to stare at him and he shuffles awkwardly in place. Looking away, he mumbles, “of course to each other, who else, dummy?”

“Uh….huh,” you blankly nod your head as a series of laughs are stifled by the bread. “Okay, and you’re being serious?”

He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “uhuh.”

“Pffft, and you’re saying you would keep that promise? That you would even remember this moment? We’re just gonna marry? Like that? And you’re assuming I’m just going to agree?”

“Hey,” he turns to frown at you, “why wouldn’t you agree? I’m offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity!”

Munching down on the bread, you continue to play along in amusement, “really? And what exactly are you offering me? You know I have high standards, right? I’m not just going to accept any proposal.”

“I know. That’s why you’re still single…” the boy deadpans, even as you glare at his remark, “...but, that’ll all change when you witness my proposal! Hear me out. First, I’ll cook every meal for you for the entire day.”

“You almost already do that except for breakfast.”

“Okay, but I’ll hone my skills by then. It’ll be even better than any restaurant we’ve ever been to.”

You raise a brow, “so you think food is the way to my heart?”  

“No offence, but yes, that’s why we’re friends,” he quips before continuing, “second, I’ll bring flowers to you at work. Everyone at your job will be burning with jealousy!”

“Because of your public display of affection, which we both clearly disdain?” 

“No, because they would wonder how you have such a handsome boyfriend like me!” he wags his finger. “Plus, who doesn’t like a little PDA when they’re about to be proposed to?” 

“Okay, fair enough, but those are two promises you’re making for the proposal. A marriage is a lifelong commitment. Why would I want to marry you just for food and flowers?”

“Hmmm, even for someone like you, I’m surprised you have so many requirements,” Jin hums, tapping his finger on his chin. “How about this, I’ll make three more promises for our marriage.”

“Quit saying ‘our marriage,’ I keep shuddering at the thought of it,” you remark as you rub your arms. 

“Third promise, I won’t break your achey breaky heart,” he deliberately emphasizes each word in a fruitful attempt to send shivers down your spine. “Fourth promise, I’ll remember all of my promises.”

“Okay… and fifth?”

“I’ll keep all of my promises! And I’ll do it all right here at this spot. Our spot.”

“What? That’s dumb,” you giggle. “Just keep it at four, then.”

“No,” he grabs the bagel in your hands and fills his mouth without a second of hesitation, “ish eashier to wememba fibe promishesh.”

“Right, right, right,” you nod, pressing your lips in a vain attempt to muffle your chuckles. “And what promises would you want me to make?”

“You?” he quirks a brow before shaking his head. “Nothing. You’re fine. I like you just the way you are.”

Huh. Has Jin always been this nice? Because you don’t quite recall ever feeling the heat of an oncoming blush of your cheeks or the bashful flutters that come with your best friend’s witty remarks. Maybe the topic of marriage has thrown you off today or maybe it’s the aftermath of a high having just graduated college and being thrusted into adulthood, but the stretched smile that adorns your lips is an undeniable fact that your confidence and spontaneity has reached its pinnacle.

Grinning, you lean across Jin’s lap to grab and unlock his phone to access the camera, “okay, wanna take a photo to commemorate this moment?”

“Gee, if you want a photo of me that bad, you could just ask me to send you a selfie, y’know—what the,” Jin starts to cackle when you raise the phone into the air and suddenly press your cheeks against his without warning. With a side-finger gun to frame his cheeks and chin, your best friend readies his pose as you wear a mischievous smile. “Hurry up and take the picture already, Y/N. My time is money.” 

“Hey Jin,” you call out to him with your eyes still fixated to the phone screen, as does his. 

The boy almost drags his words, “now what?”

“You’ve never had a girl kiss you on the cheeks before either, right?”

“What—”

—click.

“There,” you chirp jubilantly, grinning at the stunned look on his face, his eyes popping and his lips just slightly parted but failing to utter a single word as his hand grazes the spot on his cheeks where your lips had just touched, “now you have zero excuses to forget our promise!”

❀ ❀ ❀

That must have been the last time you had met up with Jin in person. Shortly after graduation, the two of you had parted ways as many are forced to do in order to embark on their lives as full-fledged adults. Being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Jin had been lucky enough to receive a job offer straight out of college with the help of family connections; although, even without his family name, you whole-heartedly believe he still would have managed on his own based off of his unparalleled work ethic that you had the chance to witness firsts-handedly. 

On the other hand, your parents had advised you to stay home, which happened to mean you would be stuck in the same town of your college, until you finally landed a decent job where you had met Alex and established a new life. Unfortunately, like life always does, all that busywork meant sacrificing contact with your best friend somewhere along the way.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”

“Ah, shit,” you mutter under your breath as you stop in the midst of your tracks down the black-marbled hallway, gritting your teeth and composing yourself just as you’ve done countless times around your less than friendly colleagues. Taking a deep breath in and out, you put on a pleased smile and whirl around to find the face of a familiar boy in your most recent reveries. “Ahh, hey, Jin... It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Ah,” the man, who seems to have grown at least or three inches since you had last seen him, scratches the back of his head. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight… how have you been?”

This is awkward. So painfully awkward. 

“Me? Oh, I’ve been alright. Life. Adulting. You know the drill,” you press a thin smile. “Actually, I’m surprised to be seeing you here tonight. I still remember us whining all throughout college over being forever alone, and yet here we are… at your engagement party… life can be funny, huh?” 

“Y—” he stutters, scratching the back of his neck “—yeah… it can be.” 

“So,” you chirp in a fruitless attempt to lift the suffocating atmosphere, “the wedding is coming up pretty soon! Feeling good or is someone getting cold feet?” 

He shakes his head weakly, “I wear socks to sleep.” 

“Wh—” you pause for a quick second, blinking blankly at his soft chuckle and following suit shortly after “—why do your jokes sound like you’re 22 again?” 

The man shrugs with a helpless smile hinted in the corners of his lips; and when it happens—you don’t know how or when the silence had whisked you away into a past time—you find him gazing at you with that fondness of a sole friend who endlessly shared and fought informidable woes with you. Perhaps you’re a hopeless romantic frozen between the fork of two roads that have long closed, for you swear you can see your own reflection through his warm brown eyes and you surmise the only possible answer to the question that lingers in your mind. 

He must see the same friend in you, that girl he would only call friend.

“You’ve been preparing your whole life for this, or, actually, maybe I should say we’ve been preparing,” you smile to stifle the lurching ache in your chest, “I guess I’m the only fool waiting for her turn now.” 

A weep cracks the laugh you force out of your knotted throat. Immediately, you turn your head to avoid his watchful gaze and tuck a lock of hair behind an ear whilst discretely ridding any traces of waterworks welling in your vision. You think you must have gotten away with the feigned laugh and turn, a routine you had mastered at your previous work, but the gradual dissolution of the curve on his lips settles into an unreadable flatline more resembling a frown than anything; because even after all these years, he can still read you like an open book. 

So, if he could see through your every facade even now, then why does he not remember? You know you shouldn’t hold it against him, such a silly promise built on a lonesome pair of naive hearts,  but you can’t help it when a single word paints your conscience. 

Why?

Why can’t he remember? 

Your shared promises, your birthday, your memories, and... you?

“Y/N,” Jin begins gently, hesitating in place once he takes a step forward and you flinch, “about the wedding date…”

He waits for you to reply, supposedly for ‘whenever you were ready’, as he always does during those fragile lows of yours. 

To avoid letting loose any more unneeded drama, you can only manage a hum, “mm?”

“I…” he pauses and sighs. “I know it’s your birthday.”

A hitch in your breath is audible. You clamp your lips tightly and nod, uttering lowly, “yeah.”

“I want you to know I didn’t decide the date, Y/N,” he says firmly, “my father did.” 

“And?” you quip suddenly, eyes darting to shoot a glower deadly enough for him to twitch in evident hurt. There, you went ahead and did it. As hard as you had spent the past months muting your rawest reaction to the envelope in your mailbox, all the pent up frustration and sheer sorrow for a lost future came whiplashing just as hard. “And you couldn’t tell your father to change the date? Maybe one day after? Or two?” 

“You know I would have asked if I could, Y/N,” he bites his tongue to state sternly, “but how would he understand? Change it for… for what—”  he laughs cruelly in the midst of his burst “—for the birthday of a best friend I lost contact with for five whole years?! That’s so… so dumb—” 

“—dumb…?”

The crack in your voice leads to a stagnant silence over what is clearly a no man’s land. Betrayal visibly paints across your face, the momentary display of having wronged his closest ally stains his own. 

“Sorry, I didn’t meant that...”

“‘...yeah, you’re right,” you scoff, “I’m dumb for waiting five whole damn years’ because you wouldn’t fucking text me or call me to ask how I was doing!”

“Me?” he asks in disbelief, gawking and pointing an accusatory finger. “You wouldn’t even pick up your phone! I called you for a month after I moved!” 

“I couldn’t pay for my phone, alright?! I was living with my parents and scrambling to find a job, any fucking low wage job, and I couldn’t sit all day in my room waiting for your calls because I’m not born with a silver spoon stuck in my ass!” 

At this point, the conversation had somehow contorted into an all out brawl of words, a challenge to see who could blame the other for the unsaid confessions lost in communication. The two of you staring down the other, chest heaving and jaws clenching and brows knitting, if it weren’t for your fortunate location tucked in the hallway hidden from the main room, you would not have allowed yourself to fall, lost somewhere in the depth of his eyes. 

“Why are you so upset?” a weak, hopeless laugh tumbles from his confused, pained expression. “Aren’t you supposed to be happy for me?” 

“I—” something gets caught in your throat and you have to choke it out “—I am. I am happy for you. I’m not upset, no…”

Jin reaches a hand out to your cheek when he notices your tears but immediately retracts his notion when you flinch backwards. The boy frowns in concern, “Y/N… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. How did I upset you?”

“Nothing,” you frantically shake your head that hangs low, using the back of your hands to smear every sign of contradiction on your face. “I just—” your breath shakes and an impending series of hiccups begins to kick in “—I’m silly. I should be happy for my best friend. I mean, I am happy. I’m just being dumb.” 

“What?” Jin carefully takes a step forward. “No you’re not—”

“—I’m dumb, okay, Jin?” you finally muster the courage to lift your sights to find his own confused ones. “It’s been five whole years and I’m embarrassed for taking a joke of a promise so seriously when my best friend doesn’t even remember making it!” 

The scrunch in his brows and lost resolution only reverberate the deafening ache in your chest. “The promises…? Y/N, I—”

“—it’s fine,” you blurt. Shaking your head and stumbling backwards, you look him straight in the eyes to say your last words before the fading knocks of your heels against the wood are all that he hears. “It's my fault for believing in a foolish fairytale anyways.”

❀ ❀ ❀

It’s almost like a fever dream when you recall just how confidently you had spat those spiteful words and furthermore dared to depart with that sheer satisfaction and the slightest aftertaste of alcohol residing on your tongue that night; but now that you’re awake, sober, and without the power of liquor, there’s nothing that can pull you out of your greatest nightmare most recently manifested into reality. 

“Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that?” 

The incessant grumbles tumble freely from your lips whilst you pace back and forth in the corner of the office. Typically, your colleagues would describe you as composed, reserved, and the level-headed half of an otherwise wild pair with Alex. This morning, however, they begin to question everything they’ve ever known about you as they watch through the corner of their averting eyes. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone!” Alex hisses under her breath along with the threatening glares she shoots at the audience. Considering how long you’ve been going at your mental breakdown, it doesn’t take very long for your shuffling footsteps and mumbling gibberish to transcend into yet another white noise in the office; and once the majority of the passersby settle on the new revelation of your hidden crazed nature, Alex hastily storms to your side as you begin banging your head against the wall. “Why would you throw a tantrum at your best friend’s engagement party?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying…” you pause momentarily to groan before proceeding to damage whatever is left of your seemingly deteriorating brain. “Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do—”

“—not to mention, an ex best friend who never even knew about your unrequited feelings—”

—she comes to an abrupt stop when she finds the deadliest scowl in your dart-like eyes. No words are exchanged but the lethal consequences are clear enough to grant you her silence and the continuance of your destruction. 

“Why the hell did I do that, Alex?” you whimper, taking a break from your antics because, damn, your forehead is really starting to hurt. “Whyyyyyyy did you have to leave me alone? Maybe Jin wouldn’t have found me and I wouldn’t have had to confront him over something that shouldn’t even matter anymore! I-I barely even know him… it’s been five years and, suddenly, here I am, voila! At his engagement banquet, yelling in his face and getting mad over feelings that aren’t even his fault!” 

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol.”

“I told you to go easy on the alcohol,” you retort. Taking a deep breath, you let out a sigh along with the scowl plastered across your face. Your next words come out more as a helpless confession of fear than a rhetorical question to be answered. “Do you think he… hates me…?”

Alex observes you for a lingering second, perhaps contemplating between a merciful albeit exacerbating answer and a merciless albeit helpful answer. She speaks carefully, treading dangerous water, “well… would you like him to?”

“I don’t know,” you shut your eyes to heave yet another sigh because that weight in your chest refuses to leave you alone. An unapologetic swinging of the door and a series of loud, wide strided footsteps that follow have your brows furrowing and it takes everything in you and Alex, judging by the sudden shuffles you hear by your side, to finish the rare heart-to-heart conversation. “I think… I think if he hated me, maybe that would extinguish that part of me from the past. If he hated me, I would be able to get over it. Maybe I would hate him too, out of spite, but at least I would be able to get over—””

“—it…? Over what, Y/N?”

Over what? It takes you much longer than it should have for you to surmise the most probable answer to her question, an answer you were never willing to admit and an answer you aren’t quite sure you’re ready to admit even now. 

“You know what I’m implying, Alex,” you sigh, shutting your eyes even tighter when a rising heat marks your cheeks. “I want to get over—”

—but your words are cut short by a familiar voice that has your heart racing and striking an unprecedented strife in the mayhem that is your systemic state...

“You can’t possibly hate me, Y/N,” he proudly proclaims and you can practically hear him smiling, “no one ever hates Kim Seokjin.” 

...and when your eyes finally flutter open, you find the man, who had only seemed like a phenomenon of your feverish dream a second ago, standing before you and adorning that signature smile with raised cheek apples and crescent-like eyes that has yet to change under the influence of time and distance. 

“W-What are you doing here…?” you barely manage to utter. Eyes flickering around your surroundings, from Jin’s broad shoulders that shield nearly the entirety of a helpless albeit buoyant Alex, to your colleagues who fail to discreetly whisper over the lavishly suited mystery of a man, and finally back to the bouquet of pastel flowers wrapped with a bright pink bow. Brows furrowing, you struggle to organize your thoughts and even go so far as to check for the dent in your reddish forehead in a vain attempt to dispel the mind tricks. When the mirage before you fails to dissipate into thin air like sand, you slowly turn to face the wall again only to have your antics disrupted by his refreshingly cold hand on your burning forehead ; and when you turn, you find Jin’s mischievous smile growing wider by the second. “H-how do you know where I work…?”

“I’m your best friend, Y/N. Have you somehow forgotten after all that head banging?” Jin scoffs in disbelief, gawking with a chuckle. Suddenly, he leans in to grab your right hand firmly in his own, squeezing twice as he had always done and leading you toward the exit. “C’mon, let’s go recover those memories of yours, eh?” 

“Wait, wait,” you nearly stumble over your own feet at the pace he’s going, struggling to catch your breath when he bursts through the last door and a blast of freezing wind envelops the clash of the heat reverberating from your beating heart. “I have to go back! I still have work! And, and… and where in the world are you even taking me?” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Y/N, so many dumb questions for someone who always topped my grades,” the boy holds the bouquet of flowers out toward you, refusing to continue until you reluctantly accept his gift with your left hand against your chest. Smiling at your reluctant acceptance, Jin turns his back on you and proceeds to march into the parking lot but his now warm hands intertwined with your now cold hands never loosens its grip. 

It’s been a long five years of waiting to finally relish in the hold of his familiarly slim, often teased albeit self-praised double-jointed hands, but, now that you’re finally living in it, you’re sure it was all worth it… even if the crashing flames at the end of this road is an inevitable, foreseeable future.

“Jin,” you frown as you stare at Jin’s opening of the car door and gesture of an invitation, reluctantly seating yourself in his sumptuous car. “I failed half of my exams... remember?”

The boy’s laughs can still be heard even through the closed door as he makes his way around the car front, all whilst swinging the keys in his forefinger. His cackling steps an abrupt many levels of decibels higher when the opposing door opens and he plops into the driver seat. “That never stopped you from boasting, did it?” 

Without the flare of your usual clever quips, you purse your lips in silence and subconsciously hug the bouquet closer to your chest to keep his space as unoccupied by your presence. The sudden turn of events has your head spinning and your heart racing enough for the thumps to be felt by your hands. 

How did he find out where you worked? Where was he even taking you and what was he planning to do with you? Why was he acting as if you had not angered him just two nights ago? 

You don’t think you’ll be getting the answer any time soon, particularly the latter question, but when your stomach growls loudly, eliciting a crackle of a laugh from Jin, the awkward tension in your muscles eases ever so slightly. 

“...s-sorry… I skipped breakfast.”

“I know,” he puts the car into neutral at the red light and turns to peer at you with a smug look that says he could still read you like an open book, “because you always skip breakfast. I hid some pastry in the bouquet.” 

“What?” you scrunch your nose but immediately dive your scavenging hands into the flowers; and sure enough, you find your favorite cream-filled bread of his warm in your hands and you can’t stifle the smile that spreads on your lips. “Why would you even do that?”

“Well, in case you suddenly got really jacked and physically refused to come with me, then at least you would have something to eat.”

“No,” you giggle, “I meant why would you hide the bread in the bouquet…”

His eyes brighten like a lightbulb, as if only now recalling the genius plan he had crafted himself, “oh, because then you can sneak a bite without having to leave your desk! It always worked with our backpacks, didn’t it?” 

Your sights fall to the bouquet and you can only reply with a sheepish grin, “right… it sure did.”

The engine purrs to life again when the light turns green and the remainder of the car ride is filled with the smooth drift of his ride and the ceaseless albeit completely welcomed humming from his lips. The old Jin never had enough of an incentive to drive, although his parents always suggested gifting him a brand new car and you had begged him to take the offer out of boredom and a never-ending desire to escape far away from university, but something about this moment in time has you feeling cozy, belonging, and at home. It’s almost like it was meant to be. 

But the silver ring shining around his finger under the angle of the sun is a dreadful reminder that it isn’t. 

So, as a slap to yourself back into reality, you fracture this perfect moment you would have once framed in that hopeless mind of yours, “so… how did you find out where I worked?”

“Ah,” his right hand casually slips onto the back of your headrest. “Still haven’t figured out, rank 292?”

“No, I haven’t, rank 295.” 

“First,” he raises a finger, “I asked some people through the grapevines and eventually your friend Alex gave out.”

Grumbling under your breath, you curse, “damn it, Alex.”

“And second,” he raises another finger before proclaiming firmly, “I’m proving you wrong.” 

“Proving me wrong?” you articulate with a scoff. “You’re going to prove me wrong? Right, keep dreaming.”

“I’m not going to prove you wrong, I am proving you wrong," he insists before shifting the car to neutral and leaning in toward you, gaze brimming with conviction locked with your own wary ones, as if ready to spill a secret sworn by the two of you and hidden from the rest of the universe. 

He's close enough for his minty breath to graze your burning cheeks, to breathe a vigorous life previously unknown by your dull five years. Heart pumping and lungs barely working, daring not to budge for being caught under the sway of his gravitational force, you can hardly catch him when he finally speaks.

"I haven't forgotten, Y/N,” he utters, “I'm a man of my word."

❀ ❀ ❀

Promise one. 

"I'll cook every meal for you for an entire day."

Promise two. 

"I'll bring flowers to you at work."

His unabashed, overly detailed tactic to ask for your hand in marriage still echoes from a time long past. Hopes for those promises were weakened by each passing second but unequivocally unassailed at birth. Eventually, smothered and disheartened, you had been forced to cut ties and confront the reality of broken promises and broken dreams. You had once somehow convinced yourself things would never return to the ways they once were, and, yet, here he is having returned by your side and here you are enraptured by the utter joy in his laughs after all this wavering time. 

It's like a dream come true; and if this indeed all just a nightmarish dream bound to death, you wish you never swore allyship to this alcohol, for now your only wish is for it to succumb you into a deep, long slumber. 

“I toooooooold you I don’t like paaaaasta!” you whine, the drag of your voice manifesting in white puffs in the still chilly spring air. The sudden transition between the warmth of his house to the frozen world outside has you spiraling into a series of trips and stumbles; and as always, your best friend Jin is the only one to hold you up, which is a good thing considering how you would’ve been tumbling into the death trap of a river beneath this bridge. “So whyyyy did you make me pastaaaaaaa? Whyyyyyyy?”

“What? Why’re you blaming me?” he retorts, obviously taking offence. “You always loved pasta! You ate it every single day at uni!” 

“I diiiiid love pasta,” you say through barely parted lips, “but it’s all just… just carbs, carbs, carbssss…” 

“Since when did you care about carbs?” Jin frowns, poking your cheeks that lean against his sturdy arms. “Should I call the police?” 

Your brows furrow and you lift your head to narrow your eyes at him, “what? Why?” 

And as soon as those words slip from your lips and he raises his finger-gun hands, you wish you hadn’t asked in the first place. 

“Because I think you’re an impasta,” his finger guns transform into jazz hands after you stare at him in dumbfounded silence, “...badumtsss….”

A series of empty blinks are exchanged, as if neither of you had just witnessed his most tragic dad joke to date; and so, you swiftly continue with a sigh, “I think… I think I started caring ever since heee mentioned I was getting fat.”

“I can’t believe you just ignored my unprecedented joke…” he grumbles to himself but lets out a little huff when he catches you from tipping over. Wordlessly, he hooks his arm with yours to keep you close to him. “And this ‘he’ you mention, who’s he?” 

“Heee.” 

“Who? Who’s ‘heeee’?” he spouts with pouty lips and a raised chin, flailings his body, and therefore yours, about every which way like a toddler. “Who’s this man I have to beat up, huh? He better square up!”

“I don’t think you could beat him up…” you mumble, eyes heavy but determined enough to reach his own flabbergasted ones. “It’s Jooooon, dummy, Kim-Nam-Joon, the boy I shared my first kiiiiss with…”

“Kim Namjoon?!” his eyes widen. “You think I wouldn’t be able to beat up that nerd?!”

You almost manage to push Jin away the foot of the bridge if it weren’t for his firm lock around you. “Have you seen his muscles?! He might not look like it with his books and all but he worked out all the time!”

“Yeah, well,” his lips sputter, “well, have you seen my muscles?!”

“No—” you freeze when you realize the sturdiness of his arm against your head is existing proof against your word, and maybe it’s because of his obvious flexing at this moment, but you could not believe just how built his arms had grown in the past five years, “—and I don’t want to.” 

“Hah! You just don’t want to admit that I’m right. C’mon, I’ll show you. You feel it, huh? You feel it?” he flexes persistently, twisting and turning to maximize his little showcase. “So? You think I can beat him up now?” 

“Well…” your voice trails off, mind clearly preoccupied with sticking your cheeks to his arm like glue in a somewhat fruitful attempt to hide the flush in your face. “You don’t really need to beat him up…”

“What?” he almost yells. “Why not? He called you fat!”

“Well, he…” your shoulders rise with each confession, “he said one of my dresses looked tight on me…”

“And?”

“...and he wasn’t exactly wrong…”

“So?”

“...so he didn’t actually say anything offhandedly…”

“What? You should’ve told me earlier!” Jin exclaims, arms thrown high into the air and consequently pushing your helpless self onto the hillside grass beside the run of the river. Lips gaping and eyes popping, you watch him in full offense as he mumbles to himself before resuming his stroll down the hill. “And here I am getting worked up over nothing… can’t believe I thought I could play hero for once…”

“Hey, Jin, what do you mean by that?” you call out to him. “Wait! I said wait for me, Jin!”

When your rhetorical questions are answered with silence, you hasten to your feet in order to catch up with those damn wide strides of his. Damn it, how did he make it halfway down the hill already? Each of your exclamations are unsurprisingly disobeyed by the boy who just throws his head back over his shoulder with that cheeky grin of his as he quickened his pace. Following suit, your strides turn into a jog and your jogs turn into a full out sprint until the both of you are full on running the 100 meters dash, one chasing and one fleeing, wind blowing refreshingly into your heated face and into your tangled locks and inflated lungs that relish in the breath of life. 

In the midst of all the chaotic bliss of an epiphany, you find yourself screaming and laughing at the top of your lungs...

“Hey! Jin! I swear I”m gonna kick your ass!”

...and it’s at this moment in time that you realize having forgotten what it means to be a fool who lived and not to live to be a fool. 

At some point in time, after having caught up to the knucklehead and giving a piece of your mind, the two of you settle down along the concrete ledge beside the river after a jittery, welcomed high. The sunset that followed was a pleasant surprise that had you two reminiscing over the countless mornings and evenings you had spent watching the sun rise and set together whilst churning throughout tireless exam nights. Pink, golden streaks now hidden behind a thick coating of midnight blue embellished by magical glitters all throughout, tonight’s stargazing becomes a first for the two of you. 

As much as you hoped you could numb yourself from the inevitable aftereffects of this death wish of a dreamy day, you can’t help but smile, thankful to have been completely sober to engrave this night into memory. 

“So...” Jin’s utter is the first to break the silence. He turns his head to give you a playful look of eyes that beams with wary curiosity, “...you started dating Namjoon after I left?”

“Mm… maybe,” you hum, “why? Got a problem with that?”

“What? Psh, what? Why would I have a problem with that?” he snorts. “The only problem I would have is the fact that you never asked me for permission.”

Your eyes widen, almost threateningly, “are you saying I need permission from a man to date another man? Not to mention a man who abandoned me without warning!” 

“Okay, first of all, it’s not my fault you cancelled your phone plan! I called and called, I tried everything I could even though I was deadbeat tired every day. It’s not my fault I thought you hated my guts! So please just understand that I didn’t abandon you, alright?” he spills in an endless stream akin to a water faucet left on the highest setting, clearly a performance either practiced in private or incited by years of pent up pressure. You can practically see the steam shooting out of his fiery red ears and the accompanying whistle manifesting into words; and by the time his chest is heaving, his lungs are panting and very dramatically so, and his eyes flicker nervously between you and the passing water, you can’t help but snicker. Unsurprisingly, your lack of empathy elicits an unamused look on his face. “Hey, hey, what’re you laughing at, huh?” 

“Me? Oh, nothing,” your hands move into your laps and you bat your eyes innocently, “it’s just that I can’t believe you’re blaming me, a helpless, poor girl with absolutely no connections, for cancelling her phone plan as a last resort to make ends meet.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he warns with an accusatory finger, “don’t you dare think I’ll fall for that eye blinking and whatever cute act you’re playing up again!” 

“Why?” you pout, almost cringing at your own antics. “Am I not cute?”

“No, you’re hurting my eyes. Plus, if anyone’s cute here,” he declares adamantly before puffing his cheeks and poking one with his forefinger, “it’s me.”

The both of you stare at the other for a stagnant few seconds, one completely dedicated to his performance and the other utterly flabbergasted by what plays out before her. 

The only word you manage to crank out is a, “uh…”

“What do you think?” he raises another finger to poke his other cheek. “I practiced just for you.” 

“Um… you’re 27 now, Jin.”

“So?” he tilts his head in the other direction. “Still 22 and young at heart.”

“Yeah? Then I’m still 22 and still equally disgusted by aegyo—” just as he parts his lips to provide another rebuttal, you quickly add in “—by your aegyo.” 

And just like that, the man drops his boyish character just as quickly as he had stepped into it. He mumbles, dropping his hands and shooting an equivocate look at you, “okay, tough crowd. Sorry, ma’am.”

It shouldn’t have been that hilarious nor should your response been so delayed, but it only takes a split second of his surrender for a thunderous cackle to slip from your lips. Throwing your head back and peering at the dangling stars above, you allow yourself a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath of the incoming wind. The fresh petrichor of spring and the earthiness of mowed grass whisks themselves into the cold, clean breeze from the vast body of water. Thin locks of hair grazes across your cheeks, swaying in the wind as does your spirit. Years are lifted from your shoulders and all that is left is the heaviness that remains in your chest; nevertheless, you have never felt so free from the past. 

“Also,” he adds nonchalantly, cocking his head to look at you, “I wasn’t speaking from the position of a man. I was speaking as a best friend. As your best friend.” 

And just like that, sitting side by side and sharing a cool breeze, it’s almost as if all these moments of remorse, spilled tears, and unreleased frustration were made to build the climax to this grand finale: the night you can finally speak your truth. 

“It’s funny how things never change, huh?” you say when your eyes flutter open and you find Jin looking over with a fondness identical to the one you’ve spotted years before. “We can split for five years, thinking one hates the other’s guts, and reunite again as best friends… as if nothing had ever happened.”

Jin chuckles, hands grabbing to the ledge and head lolling back to join you but his eyes remain fixated on you, “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Are we vampires and we just don’t know it?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure either… not sure about the good thing and not the vampire thing, that is,” your laugh settles into silence when you spot the reflected light inflicted by the ring around his finger, sitting on the ledge just an inch away from yours. Close enough to touch but far enough to confirm an unequivocal truth. Sighing, you turn your head to meet his intent gaze with a bittersweet upturn to your lips, “normally, I really despise the idea of change; but lately, when I think about how things might never change between us, how we’ll always banter as a pair of stupid best friends, I start wanting it more than ever.”

Is this the moment? Is it all really happening right now? Judging by the course of your blithe actions, if change is what you’re looking for, then change is what will surely ensue after tonight. Whether for the good or for the worse, you’ll take a reluctant guess of the latter. 

The man scrunches his brows before playing it off with a nervous laugh, “what do you mean things haven’t changed? You dated Namjoon, probably got it on a few times here or there—”

“—what—”

“—please don’t confirm,” he butts in with a raised hand, “and I have, too. Sure things have changed!”

“Ooh?” you raise a brow, genuinely shocked. “You finally got some experience under your belt? I’m impressed, Mr. Kim.”

“Hey,” he scolds, “what do you mean by ‘impressed?’” 

“Well, I should’ve known… figuring you’re about to be a married man and all…” you mumble, forcing a smile despite the sudden dip in your mood. Turning your head to stare off into the opposite end of the river where the black silhouette of skyscrapers lie, you curse yourself mentally. You really thought you could get away with the inevitable truth for the entire day? “You know, I can’t believe I almost forgot that you’re getting married in less than a week. Almost like how I couldn’t believe you almost forgot our promises.”

“I told you Kim Seokjin is a man of his words.”

“You sure about that? Promise one: cook for me for an entire day. Check. Promise two: gift me flowers at work. Check,” you turn around once again to look him firmly in the eyes and it’s almost as if the both of you know what’s about to come next. “What about the three other promises, Kim Seokjin?” 

“Y/N…” his voice trails off but his gaze never leaves yours, almost as if too afraid to be misconstrued as another betrayal. 

Quick-mindedly, you chime, “stop looking at me so seriously! I’m just joking! Promise three: you won’t break my heart. How could you after a wonderful day like this? Promise four: you won’t forget our promises. Clearly, you remember. And promise five: you’ll keep all your promises. Check.”

“Y/N,” he stifles every wince but you can tell by the way his feet have stopped kicking into the void. “I don’t think I’ve kept all those promises.” 

“Well,” you shrug, pressing your lips into a line tightly, “I only see checks in my book, Jin. You’re good to go—”

“—no, Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he says sternly; and when your mouth falls agape and your head slightly nods, his wary eyes searching for a steady sign in the windows to your soul, he continues calmly, “my marriage is actually an arranged marriage.”

“Your—” you blink blankly, jaw almost falling to the floor “—your, you, what?”

An arranged marriage. 

All this time, all this pain, all this heartbreak of wanting to do something about your feelings but remaining hopeless because of an unrequited love… turns out to be an active, fully conscious decision? Not a falling out of love, not a helpless affection for another woman, but a matchmaking handcrafted without the heavens?

“My,” he has to stop himself just as his breath hitches, “my father... arranged it. ” 

“What? Why? Is it because he prefers you with a well off family?” 

“What? No,” he shakes his head with a slight upcurve to his lips that you’ve never quite seen before. Watching him hook a hand to the nape of his neck, clearly avoiding your eyes, you have an inkling of something much worse than the presented news. “You know my father would never do that… it has nothing to do with money...”  

“But you left this town for money, didn’t you? For a better job, a better pay, a better life, and for the sake of your dignity as a dutiful son, are you telling me none of those were related to money?” 

His eye twitches by your name-calling, clearly pained once again despite knowing very well of your precedent dislike toward his silver spoon background and his nonnegotiable obedience. Each second of silence culminates a tension even more formidable than the last. Guilt intoxicates your boiling blood enough for you to bite your tongue and hold yourself back; because after accusing him of holding onto his dignity, you, yourself, could not forfeit that of your own either. 

Worse yet, you’re a complete hypocrite. 

“Why can’t you just tell him to call it off?” 

You never knew silence could be so deafening.

“So… so do you...” you begin hesitantly. Usually, with your eyes locked with his, a thousand words would have been exchanged with each passing second; but now, with gazes that wade through the tides of the unknown, for the first time ever, you don’t recognize the mystery before you. “Do you... love her?” 

His lips part slowly, but no time in the world would be enough for him to find the right words. To you, his silence is as clear as any possible answer. Something sinks in you, perhaps after acknowledging the implications behind his choice to leave your question unanswered, but your blood boils from the audacity of those apologetic eyes that, even now, never stray from yours… as if this minute of sincerity would be enough to mend the inevitable decade of scars. 

You begin slowly, failing to hide the shakiness of your deep breaths, “...then what about the baby?”

“What baby...?” his face contorts with a frown until, out of the blue, something flickers across his numerous expressions: confusion, remembrance, contemplation. His hesitation that ensues might have been fleeting but its infliction upon your shattered trust will surely remain. “Oh, that… that was just a rumor my aunt spread because of the sudden marriage.” 

“And,” you force yourself to breathe, scattering for something, anything to throw at him, “and you don’t think you could’ve told me sooner?”

The man scrunches his brows, “and that would’ve helped, how?” 

“‘How?’” you repeat, as if it was the dumbest question you had ever heard. Mirroring his expression, your eyes avert between him and the river as scoffs of utter disbelief escape you. “‘How?’ What do you mean ‘how?’”

“I mean exactly that!” his voice suddenly escalates to a level of frustration you’ve never quite heard from him before. “How would it have changed anything? Why would you need to know earlier?”

Gawking, you exasperate desperately, “you know why!” 

“No, I might be your best friend but don’t expect me to just read your mind!”

“It’s cause...” you swing your leg over the ledge to face the sidewalk with your back on Jin as soon as you could feel an incoming constriction at the back of your throat, a notorious sign shared just between the two of you that waterworks were about to appear. Breathing slowly and doing just about everything to keep your voice from shaking, and fruitlessly so, you mumble before standing to your feet, “...you know what? I don’t even know anymore. I’m sorry. Nevermind.”

Why did you ever think you would have a chance? 

Is this it? Is this really it? The end? 

The questions come crashing into you as you make your retreat, head hanging low and palms drying the inconvenient tears that mark your face. After all the confidence you had built up, after finally thinking—actually, believing—you could get over him tonight, how humiliating is it that you’re now running away from a reality that would eventually and inevitably engulf you? 

The worst part of it is, Jin, like the best friend and good man that he is, persists to chase after you. You don’t have to hear the quickened footsteps of his usual wide, well-paced strides to know he’s coming. You don’t have to hear the calls he makes on the top of his lungs for you to know he’s on his way. 

As someone who so helplessly fell in love with their best friend, you just know he would be there through thick and thin—whether you like it or not. 

“Y/N!” Jin hollers; and when he finally catches up to you, having to sprint and consequently inciting for you to surrender with an abrupt stop to your path, every bit of air is knocked from your lungs. Arms wrapping over your waist and enveloping you into a tight hug, you can feel his heart pounding against your back. 

To most, it should have been the perfect method to comfort a crying friend; so, damn it, why does it only make you cry harder? 

“What?” your voice cracks as you just barely manage to smear the following tears within the wrap of his bear hug. “Damn it, Jin, why can’t you leave me alone for once?”

Head resting on yours, his voice is muffled by your hair as he murmurs, “I can’t just leave my best friend crying like that. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry.” 

He embraces you. He embraces you not only physically through the silence but also through the emotional rollercoaster that comes with it. He, Kim Seokjin, your best friend, holds you through the ups and downs and the rights and the wrongs. He even holds you now, comforting you in the hurricane that you brewed without ever knowing and never caring that he had, in fact, not committed any wrongdoing. If anything, you must be in the wrong. 

And when you put it that way, how could you blame yourself for falling in love with him?

“Jin… I’m sorry, I tried everything to stop myself but,” your voice shakes but your courage prospers, “but I just, I just really, really love you.” 

A second passes. 

Now, two. 

Then, three. 

Something strikes against your chest when the surreality of the situation settles into reality. His silence could mean many things, but the tightening of his embrace could only mean one. Blood flushes your cheeks as you lament over his sensation of your fervent heartbeats. Secrets thrown out into the spring air, your heated cheeks are equally exposed to the passing, chilly zephyr. 

He knows you love him. At this moment, he can physically feel the proof of your love and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

“Sorry,” you manage to blurt under your breath, “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said—”

—the remaining words dissipate into thin air when he places his hands firmly on your shoulder and whirls you around. Face just inches away from his, you barely catch wind of his declaration before the unthinkable occurs…

“Too late. I don’t want to.”

...and his lips meet yours. 

It’s everything you have ever imagined. Years of admiring those plush lips, wondering what it would be like to feel the warmth of those wonders pressed against yours, are finally coming to fruition… except they don’t. His hands fall from your shoulders to the small of your back, but your hands don’t intertwine behind the back of his neck like you imagined. Instead, they hover in midair, hesitant to embrace him in your arms. Why? With your eyes and his fluttered closed and an audible deep sigh that signals a desire finally satisfied from the both of you, reality still manages to twist a dream-come-true. 

Does he actually love you or does he only pity you?

Finally, and ever so suddenly, your hands firmly push against his chest to plant an arm’s distance from you and him.

“Sorry…” you pant, avoiding those intense eyes. “We… we can’t do this.” 

“What?” Jin raises a brow, taking a step forward as you take one back. “Why not?”

Wordlessly, you point at his ring finger.

“Oh,” he chuckles nervously, hand scratching the back of his neck. You can only watch his every move, your stare gradually becoming a glare. Rosy hues coloring his cheeks, he speaks sheepishly, “I forgot we’re in public.”

His nonchalance irks you to your core. There isn’t any other way to put it. Blithe and dense have always been your favorite traits of his, but now that he’s here? Planting buds he could never sustain and sending mixed signals despite knowing of your feelings in an unfitting circumstance were never things you knew Jin for.  

“I-I don’t get it, Jin,” you shake your head. “I don’t think we should see each other any more. In any context. Not even after the wedding.” 

With his hands buried into his pockets and shoulders high enough to hide his reddened ears, he glances up at you, alert. “What? Why? What don’t you get?”

“It’s ‘cause... I just don’t get… this. I don’t get us,” you articulate, struggling to find the right words. “Why are you so… nonchalant about this? Why are you kissing me? Is it out of pity? Is it because I said I liked you—”

“—Y/N,” he says lowly like the drop of his previously cheerful mien, “you know I would never do something like that.” 

“Then why?! Why are you doing this to me? Do you love her or not?” you pause for a second to stifle the crack in your voice but, alas, all is in vain. “...and do you even… love me?”

He frowns, the tension in his body evident by the knitting of his brows as he struggles, “I… Y/N...”

“So you can’t admit that you love her and you can’t even lie to say you love me. So why the hell are you throwing away an entire marriage just to kiss me?” your scoff comes out more so like a plea. “You’re confusing me, Jin—”

“—that’s,” he abruptly pauses to stop himself from exploding, taking a deep breath before continuing, “that’s exactly why I can’t say it, Y/N! I don’t want to confuse you. I don’t want to disappoint my father. I-I don’t want to complicate matters more!”

“Then why the hell did you kiss me?!”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know! It was a spur of the moment! I couldn’t stop myself from chasing after you and when I hugged you—I-I just wanted to, alright? I’m sorry.”

He’s... sorry. 

Sorry for kissing you, sorry for acting as if your feelings had been reciprocated, sorry for breaking all the promises he made and pretending like he was going to patch things up again tonight. Speaking your mind and hearing his words are all that you need to finally understand what you need to do. Your heart drops but you hold your head high because your final verdict is the right thing to do. Maybe this time you’ll finally be able to cease these useless feelings. What's the point in pursuing a hopeless love? 

The only one you would be hurting is yourself. 

This epiphany, in itself, is enough to drape an ephemeral clarity over your frenzic self; and just like a bandaid over a scar, you’re able to function, if only just temporarily.

“Hey, Jin?” you call out softly to the boy kicking at nothing on the bare sidewalk. It’s hard not to melt under the delicate glance he throws over his shoulder. “I’m not… mad. Well, I kind of am. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry for everything that I said about your upbringing. I know how close you are to your family. I’m sure you’ve been under a lot of pressure…”

“No, Y/N,” he shakes his head, turning his body to face you with a low hanging head, “it’s my fault. Even considering all that, I still shouldn’t have done that or any of this. I… I’m sorry for confusing you.”

Forcing a composed smile, you persevere, “do you have your fiance’s number?”

Head lifting with a frown, he answers, “yeah, what kind of a fiance would I be if I didn’t? Why though?”

“Right,” you say to yourself under your breath, hearing his ‘fiance’ echo relentlessly in your head. “I just need it, okay? To… to sort out everything...”

And just when you wonder how insensitive could this boy get...

“What?” he chuckles. “Are you going to fight for me?”

...it gets worse.

Rolling your eyes, you give him a hard, well-deserved slap against the chest before snickering at his loud wince and declaring your one last confession of the night. 

“No, I could fight for us, but I won’t singlehandedly fight for you,” you then declare with a bitter smile, “I will, however, tell her how jealous I am.”

And that's your most irrefutable confession, one that has Jin stupefied for the future midnights to come.

❀ ❀ ❀

Morning arrives much sooner than you had anticipated. White puffs mark the air whilst you wrap yet another layer of scarf around your neck. It seems as though the breeze from a night ago had intentionally danced around town, lingering and spectating on the resolution of your five year long love conundrum. Ironically enough, the two of you reunite at the very spot where everything had first started… except this time, everything will finally end.

The pain he had marked in you inflicted by the words he could not bring himself to say still stains your every waking second.

“You have to do this. You can do this,” you incessantly chant to yourself, pacing back and forth beside the most prominent cherry blossom tree in town. “You have to do this. You can do this—”

“—Y/N, is that you?”

What you presume to be Youngji’s voice perks your ears. Looking up, you spot her holding a phone in her hands as she flickers between you and her screen. A quizzical quirk of the brow plasters across your face as you wave at her and she jogs over to you as quickly as she could in that pink, wool poncho and those tan, fluffy boots. “Hey, Youngji, right?” 

“Yeah,” she says in between each pant of breath, “that’s me.” 

Her hands immediately find refuge on her knees whilst she bends over to catch her breath. Typically, you’re the very self-aware type, but there isn’t anything you could do to stop yourself from staring. The girl strikes you as… flamboyant. With her dark red pigtails, bright smile, and dainty attire, she’s everything you’ve always imagined a female version of Jin would be like. It’s hard not to wonder… maybe an arranged marriage really can be a match made in heaven, but you force yourself out of that rabbit hole before having another breakdown in front of an innocent stranger. 

The tang of jealousy, however, refuses to budge. 

“Sorry, for,” she pants, holding her hand up to show you her phone screen, “calling out to you like that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you squint at the sight of the screen displaying a candid photo of you, taken on this very street on that very day, as you stuffed one of his breads in your mouth. Drawn on your face is a mustache and a unibrow. “Did Jin do—”

“—Jin gave me a terrible reference photo.” 

Scoffing, you cross your arms, “damn it, Jin.”

Youngji crackles into a firework of uncontrollable laughter, rendering you stupefied. After a literal minute passes by, she finally manages to speak in between the bursts of giggles that follow, “you two—” giggle “—really are—” giggle “—close, huh?” And as a grand finale, she slaps her stomach with a loud sigh of relief that her laughs have come to an end. When she notices you staring at her bewilderedly, a light bulb flashes through her as she gasps and feigns a whimper, “o-oh! Ow! M-my baby!”

“You know you don’t have to pretend, right?” you can only let out a laugh of disbelief because you still can’t take in the mirror image your best friend. “Jin already told me about the fake pregnancy.” 

“Oh, in that case,” she smiles widely before giving her stomach one more big, satisfying slap, “see, you guys really are so close!” 

“I… I guess. I’m not sure if taking me out for one day after five years of radio silence really counts as close, though,” you then quickly add in with raised hands, “he only did so out of obligation, though! I swear it was nothing more!”

“Hmmm?” she hums, leaning in a curious ear with a cheshire-like smile. “Is it because of those promises he made?”

“...yeah, wait, he told you about those?” 

Of course he did, idiot, they’re engaged. 

“Well, something like that,” she shrugs, “so how much did he tell you?”

“About?” 

“About the wedding, silly!” 

“Uh, nothing much really. The pregnancy was a false rumor, the marriage was arranged by his father…”

“Father?” she inquires, watching you closely with those big, round eyeballs of hers. 

“Yes?” you hesitantly nod. “Father?” 

“Ah,” she nods, as if she finally catches drift of something, “I see.” 

“Oh yeah,” you add, “I also found out it’s on my birthday.”

“What?!” her eyes grow wider, if they even possibly can. “Jin never told me that! What the heck, man? A wedding? On his best friend’s birthday?!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know right?” you nod passively before coming to an abrupt stop. “Wait, what? Why does it matter to you?”

“Of course it matters to me! You’re Jin’s best friend, aren’t you? You have no idea how much he talks about you back home. I know you so well that sometimes I feel like you might be my best friend,” she chimes before reaching out to cup your hands in hers. “Let’s celebrate properly with Jin after the wedding, okay?” 

“Um, sure…”

But you don’t exactly plan on unnecessarily sticking around his life for any longer than the wedding… except, seeing how close she must be with Jin in addition to her loose-lip impression, you decide not to tell her that. 

“So,” she drops her hands to the side, “what did you need to tell me?” 

Why did you call her to meet you here again? After witnessing her flamboyant entrance, it’s hard for you to keep yourself from derailing. 

“Oh, um,” you scratch the back of your head awkwardly, “I just wanted to meet my best friend’s fiance, that’s all.”

“Ahhh, I see.”

The woman pauses, nodding at you intently almost as if waiting for the real intentions to be revealed. Damn it, either you’re a literal open book or she reincarnated from the same soul as Jin’s. 

“So…” you purse your lips. “Are you okay with it? The arranged marriage, I mean?” 

“Well,” she shrugs, finally dropping the smile from her lips. “At first I hated the thought of it. I felt like I didn’t really have a choice, but… when I met Jin—” a smile is hinted in the corner of her lips and in the sparkle of her eyes “—I thought ‘I’m pretty lucky girl, aren’t I?’ I think the world must have finally taken pity on me.”

A soft, stifled laugh slips from you as your eyes fall to the ground and a bittersweet smile accompanies your lips, “yeah, you’re pretty lucky.” 

“Don’t get me wrong though,” your eyes immediately shoot up to find her raising defensive hands, “it wasn’t some sort of a love at first sight. He’s handsome, sure, but—”

“—a marriage is a lifelong commitment—”

“—exactly,” she sighs, “I didn’t really know him, but when I was forced to spend time with him… I thought if I had to get married, then he would be the best option. He’s not a bad guy.” 

“No,” you smile in your reverie, shaking your head, “he's not a bad guy at all; and when you really get to know him, his stupid dorky self, I think it’s impossible not to fall for him.” 

“Yeah?” 

“He’s mean when he jokes around but he’s actually very kind, he’s sensitive when you poke him where it hurts but he hides it deceptively well, he’ll apologize for being wrong when the both of you clearly know you’re in the wrong, he’ll cook and wear the hottest pink clothes he can find because ‘to hell with societal norms,’ he’ll tell you the dumbest dad jokes but I promise you’ll get used to them eventually, ” you let out a reminiscent laugh that comes out more like a sigh, “and, sometimes, very rarely, he’ll hurt you unintentionally, of course, but he’ll always go out of his way to make it up because that’s just… that’s Jin. That’s my best friend.” 

A breeze passes by to perfectly mark the end of your cadence. Branches rustle above you and freshly budded cherry blossom petals flutter their way toward the grass underneath the two of you only to be risen once again by a following zephyr. Having been there throughout his and your lives, it’s almost as if the long-standing tree is agreeing to attest to your words. 

“Wow,” Youngji finally says after witnessing your truthful albeit embarrassing spoken love letter, “I… I wouldn’t doubt any of it… but why are you telling me? Shouldn’t you be telling Jin?” 

“I’m telling you, because,” you emphasize, “because I'm jealous of your position but I can't do anything about it so I want you to take good care of Jin. I just… I need to know he’ll be in good hands. I want him to be loved like the way that he loves. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

Youngji just nods. It’s the most somber response you’ve ever seen from her. Almost like the joining of hands in marriage has finally become reality. 

“Do you…” you struggle to squeeze out of the knot in your throat, “do you love him…?” 

“Y/N—” she begins but suddenly lets go of whatever she must have had planned “—yes, yes I do.” 

“And… you’ll take care of him?” 

Youngji bobs her head lightly, “yes, I will.”

“Promise?” 

“...promise.”

“Okay, then I’m entrusting him to you, and,” you smile, leaning forward to shake her hands before heaving one last sigh, “and this time, please keep the promise.” 

❀ ❀ ❀

A curse sinks into the thickness of the sapphire dusk that quickly descends upon the hushed city. Keys tinkle to decorate the silence of tonight’s resting wind, a silence that would have been accompanied by an equally passive woman and an oblivious man whose hands persist to fumble to his guest’s dismay. 

Standing before a small willow, vintage-looking store tucked away in the corner of downtown, an inaudible breath ascends a cloud of white that momentarily shrouds the grand interior peeking from spotless windows that line the exterior. Golden warm studio lights illuminate the gorgeously exquisite ivory gowns from the trailing trains up to its waterfalls of dainty veils. Velvet suits and satin neckties accompany each headless mannequin, welcoming each passerby to imagine themselves in their wildest fairytales… your hand in his and his in yours as a fleeting moment becomes a sealed promise of a lifelong loyalty. 

Breath completely taken away, you, yourself, almost fall prey to your own far-fetched dreams. 

“I thought I said we shouldn’t meet up anymore,” your forced mutters drag you from your short-lived reveries, “why did you bring me here?”

“You said we shouldn’t meet up anymore, yet here you are,” Jin chirps before cheering to himself under his breath once the key finally clicks into place, “yes! Old man must have purposely given me these rusty old keys.”

Crossing your arms, you retort, “I came because you said your close friend from home would be here, too.”

Turning around to face you with his back to the door and a hand on the golden knob, he raises a quizzical brow, “and… are you not my close friend from home?” 

“I thought you meant the other—”

“—this is my home, Y/N,” he says firmly, looking straight at you, “and I want my best friend to see me in my wedding suit before anyone else.” 

“But why me…?”

“Because I only care about your opinion.”

He answered without hesitation, but in your head you figure he must have forgotten about Youngji, the true spotlight of the show.

Gritting your teeth, a staredown begins between the two of you; but the longer you face those unequivocal looks of determination in his eyes, the hotter your cheeks become in the middle of a contrastingly chilly night.  

“Alright, fine.” 

“Thanks,” he gives you a small, lopsided smile before pushing the door open with his back and ushering you in with a slight bow, “ladies first.”

Your eyes roll but not for very long when you step foot into the store and your mouth falls agape. The ceiling is much higher than you had perceived from outside, the sides are lined with grand, wooden staircases that lead to a second floor where hundreds upon hundreds of white dresses and black suits find purchase along the hangers, and the click of your heels against the marble tiles of the entrance floor echo into the extravagant expanse. 

The wooden insulation of the store proves infallible when the door closes behind Jin and the shrewd air leaves you to a much more bearable surrounding. Standing affixed to the entrance, you watch as Jin strides toward the carpeted floor where a taupe curtain hanging from the ceiling drapes over a raised platform sits across its partner platform in the opposite of the room. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so enraptured by something aside from me,” Jin chuckles as he begins stripping the suit off of a black, velvety mannequin before pointing at the mannequin standing beside the opposite platform, “oh, why don’t you try on some dresses while I’m at it?” 

“What?” you scoff, finally taking a step onto the carpet. “First off, I never stared at you like that before. Second, why the hell would I do that? It’s your wedding, not mine.” 

“I asked the store owner for permission and picked a dress for you to try on,” he continues, finally stopping in the midst of unbuttoning his white, collared shirt when he looks up to find the fear in your eyes. “Hey, haven’t you always wanted to try one of these?”

“Yeah,” you laugh in disbelief because he actually listened to your past rambles, “but never under these circumstances.”

“C’mon, you never know if you’ll ever have a chance like this again,” he gestures once more when he notices the start of your contemplation, “c’mon, go on!”

You really don’t want to. It’s that nagging feeling of something going completely wrong tonight if you were to succumb and let yourself go. After all, your worst fear is yourself. It doesn’t feel right and you begin to wonder if it’s alright for you to hold onto this moment you’ve always dreamed about: dolling up and swearing your vows side by side with Jin. 

If you were to live out your fairytale, just for tonight, would you finally be able to sleep dreamlessly at night? 

“...fine,” you groan and storm across the room, tossing your purse into the ruby sofas and stepping onto the platform. Turning around to face a gleeful Jin, you’re about to scowl at him until your eyes flicker between the cheeky grin on that youthful face and those sculpted abdomen of his elevated by the lighting above. Cheeks flushing red, you gulp at the unseen sight before clutching the curtain in your hands and swinging it closed with a mumble, “and at least have some decency and use the curtains, God damn it…”

The freezing touch of your hands doesn't hold a candle to the heat of your face. Trying to calm your racing heart, you curse to yourself at the way he merely cackles at you and, even worse, the way your heart intensifies in response. 

“Yes, ma’am!” 

“...shut up,” you say more to yourself and your deafening heart.

The gown standing before you, however, is no help to your case either, for when you glance over the dress, the long train that could awe an entire room, the complimenting silhouette that doesn’t scream too over-the-top but enough to fulfill the little girl within you, and the classic lace sleeves that you’ve gushed over whilst skimming through magazines, you realize Jin had always been attentive even when he was stuffing his face with bread or even when he was being petty over an argument and you tried to rectify with incessant small talk. 

It’s at this moment that you acknowledge the rabbit hole you had just willingly fallen into and the impossibility of its towering escape.

“So,” Jin calls out to you as the sound of rustling clothes fill the silent air, “what do you want for your birthday tomorrow?”

“My birthday? Oh, right,” you slam palm to your forehead, having dwelled over the marriage and consequently forgetting your own birthday. “Uh, nothing really. I haven’t really thought about it this year.” 

“Really? You? Y/N? Not planning her own birthday?” he gasps. “Who are you and what did you do to Y/N?”

“Oh, shut up. With age comes other problems to deal with...”

...problems like you.

“C’mon,” he chuckles. “You have to have something. You can’t tell me you’ve gotten every single thing checked off of that old ‘birthday gift ideas’ list you gave me.”

“I mean… I wouldn’t say I’m very far from it and it’s not like you were actually going to give me everything I asked for. Say, what did I even have on that list?” your eyes wander to the towering curtains that envelop you as your hands reach behind to the buttons on your back. “A bowl of your tofu soup, some pocket money, a matching sweater, a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a… ring.” The word slips from your lips and it floats in the stagnant air before you can even do anything about it. His silence rings in your ears, so you quickly add in, “but I don’t want materialistic stuff like that anymore.” 

“...oh, really?” 

“Nope,” you heave a heavy sigh and pat the poofy material of the skirt down, “I think I’ve come to realize that… I just want to be loved. I don’t need a dress or a necklace or a ring…  you wouldn’t understand, but I don’t just want to hear those words. I want to feel them. I want to be loved.” 

But only by him.

A lingering silence drifts long enough for you to start panicking until, finally, he answers, “no, I understand.” 

“...well,” you quickly chirp as you fumble with the lacey material of your dress, “enough about me, what do you want for your big day, hm?”

“Why would I need a present from you?” he remarks. You can hear him finishing his final touches and you can barely stop your heart from leaping out of your chest. “You’ve given me enough already.”

“You mean I’ve given you enough earfuls and tears,” you retort, clutching onto the curtains as you shut your eyes to muster every courage within you. “Isn’t there anything I can give you? Anything you want?”

Counting down to yourself, the curtains and drawn open in one, swift swing; and when your eyelids flutter open, you find him standing on the platform across from you, dressed in a classic black and white suit with the curtains clutched in his hands like a mirror image of you. He glances over you from head to toe, as you do to him, until the both of you settle in each other’s gazes for what seems like an eternity, willingly lost and ever-so-enraptured.

You almost forget this isn’t actually your wedding.

“This,” he answers with a soft smile, “this is enough.”  

“...stop it.”

JIn frowns, “stop what?”

“Stop… looking at me like that,” you articulate, hands covering your bashful grin. “It’s making me feel self-conscious.” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault I have such a good eye at picking clothes for you!” he says whilst pointing an accusatory finger. “I guess 22 year old Jin had a pretty good sense of fashion after all.” 

“You picked this five years ago…?” 

The man shrugs but his high chin says otherwise regarding his humility, “I told you Kim Seokjin is a prepared man of his word.” Eyes peering across to wink at you, he continues a bit more seriously, “I might not be able to fulfill all of our promises, but this is the closest I can to it.” 

“Jin… you’re…” you laugh in disbelief, bashfully avoiding his intent gaze, “...you’re so incredibly stupid that I can feel it from all the way here.” 

“Oh, yeah?” he grins mischievously and takes a step toward you and off the platform. “How about now?”

“Stop it, don’t spread your stupidity to me.”

He spreads his arms out wide whilst taking another few steps forward, “why not? Aren’t we supposed to be together through thick and thin?”

“No, not really,” you adamantly shake your head amidst a hysterical fit of giggles, “don’t come any closer.” 

“Oh, no,” he feigns worry. Another footstep. “I can’t stop myself.” He approaches even closer. “The stupidity is spreading!” 

With him just a footstep away, you cower behind the shield of your hands, “stop it, stop looking at me like that—”

—and just as you squeal, his arms wrap around you to pull you into a tight embrace.

Like two lost puzzle pieces, his hands fit perfectly in the small of your back and his chin rests comfortably in the crook of your neck. His hair grazes against your burning cheeks. His scent envelops you into a rosy haze. He could probably feel the beat of your chest against his, but you wouldn’t know when you’re preoccupied by the thuds of his own. You had never been aware of the lonesome emptiness you’ve felt all these years until now, under the warmth of his touch that completes your other half. 

You almost forget to breathe until he takes a deep breath and lets out a slow, dreary sigh. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Under any other circumstances, you would have smacked him for lying. Perhaps it’s the stir of the starry skies or the impending occasion or even the look he made on his way to you with a gaze that oozed with absolute adoration, but something tells you he’s being his genuine self tonight… and that’s what you fear the most. 

“You shouldn’t be saying that, Jin,” you say, stroking his head buried in your shoulder, “and you shouldn’t be looking at any women but Youngji with those eyes.” 

Whether he’s quietly reflecting or stubbornly disagreeing, Jin remains silent. His breath entangles with yours, syncing with the wavelengths that you two have been running for an ongoing seven years and, perhaps, beyond. 

He frustrates you to your wits’ end. There’s nothing he hasn’t made you question. At times, when you’re tossing and turning in bed and hoping for a way out of that cavern of a mind, you wish time could skip to a year in which the voices no longer haunt you at night; and yet, when you’re here buried in his arms, you would do anything to freeze and relish this fragment in time. 

It isn’t right. You two aren’t right and you know it isn’t right… but how do you deny yourself of the cure to those deep scars when he, himself, wishes to be downed? 

It takes everything in you to finally drop your hands from his locks to his shoulder. Just as you’re about to deny the tempting elixir, Jin lifts his head along with his gaze that now meets yours, “Y/N, I have something I need to tell you.”

“...y-yeah?” 

The windows to his soul twinkle underneath the dim chandeliers above. Those starry dark brown eyes simply take your breath away.

“My dad,” his voice quivers like the water that wells in his eyes; and when you know he’s about to bawl, you pat his head ever-so-endearingly. Gulping, he finds the courage to continue, “he’s sick.” 

“Oh... oh, Jin,” you murmur, quickly wiping the few tears that drop onto his flush cheeks before bringing him into another tight embrace. “I’m sorry.” 

“I only moved—” and that’s what cracks his buoyant front into a full on bawl  “—I only moved to take care of him!”

“I understand.” 

He shakes his head, “I didn’t want to abandon you!” 

“No, Jin, I know,” your voice is buried underneath his whimpers, “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” 

“I didn’t know things would turn out like this!” he cries, holding you even closer. “I didn’t know!” 

“It’s okay, Jin. Really, it’s okay. It’ll be okay.” 

“No, it won’t be okay,” his voice hitches in the midst of his hiccups, “my father is dying and now I’m walking down the aisle with a woman I don’t even love!” 

Your strokes come to a temporary stop because how could fate be so twisted? Who is it to decide whose time shall begin and whose time is up? You have to hold your breath along with the waterworks that sour your eyes. You can’t cry now. He needs your stability.

He needs you. 

“Did you…” you take a shaky breath, leaning back to watch him cover the messy state of his face, “did you tell your dad?”

“I-I couldn’t,” he stutters, voice muffled by his voice, “you know how long he’s been waiting for this.”

I know,” you ponder for a second before hesitating to continue, “...why didn’t you consider me?” 

“I—” his hiccup interrupts him as he roughly smears his tear-stained cheeks with his palms “—I thought you hated me. I didn’t think you would agree. I thought our promises were just a joke. But when you confessed that night, when you said you would fight for us—” his voice cracks again as he laughs at himself, eyes to the ground “—I thought damn, fuck, how did I mess up so hard? I should have fought for us. I’m so stupid—”

“—no you’re not—”

“—so fucking stupid!” 

His self-reprimanding curse echoes in the room. Each of his demeaning scorns inciting a fiery justice in you. 

“No,” you state, “you’re not stupid.” 

Without the dignity to face you, his hands clenched into fist and he continues with bangs shrouding his sorrowful eyes, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I hurt you—”

“—no, Jin, you did not—”

“—I messed us up—”

“—no, Jin, look at me, hey, look at me,” you place a finger under his chin to lift his spirits until those bloodshot eyes of his find refuge in yours. Smiling, you speak, “see? I’m okay. So what are you apologizing for?”  

“Aren’t you… mad?” 

“Mad? No, silly,” you laugh, wiping another tear. “Sad? Maybe.”

“See—”

“—sad because I wasn’t there by your side when you needed me… and maybe a bit sad that I won’t be the one holding you like this tomorrow,” you apologize with a soft smile over the latter jab that incites a wince from the boy. “Why didn’t you tell me about your father?” 

“I didn’t think it was that serious,” he hiccups, “and when I found out, I tried to call you but it didn’t go through.”

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, “I’m sorry.” 

“No,” he takes a deep breath to calm his high, “it’s not your fault.”

“And it’s not yours either,” you affirm, breaking out into a laugh when you take another look at his reddened eyes and dampened cheeks. “Look at you! Why are you looking like a mess on our wedding day, huh?! At least let us be ignorantly happy for one day!” 

“What…?” he frowns whilst hastily smearing every last evidence of his breakdown on his face. The result is an equally red, irritated skin across his cheeks. “What’re you talking about? Kim Seokjin never looks like a mess… hey, what’re you laughing at?!” 

“Look at your tie, idiot! What kind of a rich son are you if you can’t even tie it correctly? Come over here,” you say just as you grab the end of his necktie to pull him up onto the platform. With his necktie now at your eye-level, you begin to unravel whatever knot he had attempted. All the while, you can feel his gaze as he watches you do your thing, completely enamored. This time, it’s your turn to turn red. To distract yourself from the rising self-consciousness, you clear your throat, “call me whenever you’re going through a hard time, okay? I’ll give you my new number…”

The piece of fabric flails around into equally atrocious knots that Jin had previously created until you groan in frustration and disassemble everything. You had practiced this so many times while he was gone, foolishly believing it would come in handy the day he returned, but why does nothing ever work out the way you want it to? 

“I swear it worked last time I tried…”

Your best friend just watches silently, chuckling as you wrap the fabric around your own neck this time; and when he speaks, much steadier like the Jin you have always known, he looks you directly in the eye. “Youngji told me about your guys’ conversation.”

“Huh?” you pause as soon as your embarrassing declaration of love begins reciting itself in your head, but not even the resumed work of your hands could distract you from the ever-growing shade of red. “O-oh, that… what about it?” 

“I heard what you said about me.” 

“Yeah?” you hum nonchalantly, even though the trembling of your hands and the avoidance of your eyes from his give you away. “Well, did she tell you about all the complaints I made, too? About you being a stupid dork?”

“She did,” he utters before placing a finger below your chin to avert your attention to those dazzling works you desperately avoided, “but would you still be willing to marry this stupid dork?”  

“This isn’t even a real wedding,” you feign a frown under the spotlight of his intent gaze, “why are you asking me a question like that?”

“Sorry, I didn’t have the funds to hire a real priest.” 

“You don’t need to for a fake wedding.”

“I thought you said we should be ‘ignorantly happy for one day?’” 

The bantering just never stops, does it?

“Okay, well… to answer your question,” you mutter, eyes averting to the side, “under normal circumstances…”

“Under normal circumstances…” he repeats.

“Where you aren’t engaged…”

“Where I’m not engaged…”

“And your father approved of me…”

“And my father approved of you…”

“Then yes,” you say without hesitation, eyes returning to find a newfound comfort in his relieved gaze, “yes, I would marry you.” 

“And that’s why I love you,” Jin smiles, chuckling softly. “I’ll always want to marry you.”  

And just as a nearby clock tower strikes its church bells to signal the stroke of midnight, Jin grabs the end of your necktie and pulls you in to press his lips onto yours. The body of his warmth and the acceptance of an inevitable end to your paths serve as the last page of a book never to be read again; and yet, he holds himself close, refusing to let you go. 

But when the end nears and the magic of the bells resume time once again, the two of you pull away to catch your breaths. Forehead against yours, Jin gives you one last, fleeting kiss. 

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

❀ ❀ ❀

Deja vu would be the perfect term to describe this feeling.  You can almost see yourself in the room of hundreds, stealing glances at the man from afar. It only takes one blink for you to relive the rollercoaster of jubilance and confessions and tears. In the split second of darkness, the past week flickers before you like a film reel: breaking down in the middle of the hallway right in front of Jin, staring bewilderedly at the large bouquet in the hand of a man at the office, confessing with tears that stain your face and sobs that conquer your voice, meeting the woman who had stolen your spot beside Jin, and holding him in your arms as he cries his heart out at the stroke of midnight. 

And just as quickly as the whirlwind of memories had taken you on a trek of time, your eyes flutter open to find yourself in another suffocating room of hundreds once again. 

Youngji [8:39 P.M.] Hey Y/N do you think you can visit me real quick? 

The glaring text on your phone screen glows in an otherwise dimly lit reception room. Thumb hovering over the screen, your mind goes blank. People pass by you, commotions and laughter fill every corner of the room, and you stand there frozen and affixed to the floor beside the table of food with a glass of red wine in your hands. 

“Hey, Y/N,” someone whispers into your ear and you immediately turn your phone off only to find Alex on her tiptoes, “what’s the matter?”

“Oh, um, nothing,” you respond under your breath, “it’s just that someone wants to talk to me.” 

“Well, you better hurry then,” she ushers you with a gripping hand on your left arm, “the ceremony is about to start anytime now.” 

“O-oh, okay,” you nod, allowing your footsteps to follow the momentum of her push. 

This isn’t exactly what you had planned, for the original plan involved your complete avoidance of the groom and bride, but it’s unsurprising that things never quite go your way. Nothing could quite topple you like last night’s revelation anyways. Taking a deep breath, you weave through the audience, wandering about the venue until you finally find yourself in front of a door with a “BRIDE WAITING ROOM” printed in gigantic black letters taped to it. 

Hesitantly, you knock, “hello? This is Y/N…? Youngji called for me—”

“—Y/N!” The wooden door swings wide open with a highly distressed Youngji hiding behind it. Before you can reply or even confirm the identity of the woman, her hands clutch yours and pull you into the room with a force unimaginable for a human of her size.  Practically lurching forward, a heap of air is knocked from your lungs just as the door slams closed. Coughs force their way through your throat, but Youngji wastes no time to rush to your side. “Y/N, this is an emergency! I need help!” 

“W—” you wheeze, peering up at her as you’re doubled over “—what in the world are you talking about?” 

“I don’t know,” her hands jitter as she paces back and forth, “I don’t know why I feel so… so nervous!”

“Hold on,” you frown, finally straightening your back, “that’s perfectly normal. It’s your wedding—”

“—please don’t say that word again,” she begins biting her freshly white-coated nails.

“What word? Normal? Wedding? Your—”

“—I can’t believe it’s my wedding…” she says repeatedly, hands flying to her head and disheveling her previously perfectly conditioned curls. She suddenly turns to face you, eyes wider than ever with a look that screams of an epiphany. “I-I don’t think I can go there. Y/N, I don’t think I can go out there!”

“What?!” you almost yell, flabbergasted. Recoiling from your outburst, you start much more softly this time. “Are you sure? I’m sure it’s just your nerves getting to you. You’ve been okay with it for at least a year, right?”

“Why?” her eyes widen to unprecedented diameters as she grabs your arm for support. “Is it because it’s too late? Do you think I should back out, Y/N?”

“What? No, no, no, calm down, follow me,” you shake your head, grasping her hand and guiding her to the chair in the center of the room where an entire photo shoot has been set up. Lowering yourself to a squat, you give her a squeeze as firm as the smile on your lips.  “Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s just the jitters. Everyone gets them. I’m sure Jin is freaking out in his room, too.”

“...okay,” she nods, pouting as her eyes lower to your hands that hold hers. Peering up at her from below, you can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks dolled up on this special occasion. From the extravagant poof of her princess gown to the gorgeous glow of the bride herself, you find yourself lost in a trance that burns with heart-panging jealousy. You almost miss her when she murmurs, “how are you so calm, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you raise a brow and laugh. “Why would I be nervous? I’m not the one getting married here.”  

“But… your best friend is getting married,” she shifts to get a clearer look of you but finds you with your eyes to the floor, “are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Of… of course. I’m happy for him,” you say through barely parted lips and stand to your feet before making your way to the door. “It’s not exactly traditional, but do you want me to get Jin? Maybe he can calm you down—”

“—do you know why Jin agreed to this arrangement?” 

Freezing in your tracks, you throw a glance over your shoulder to meet her distraught gaze. 

“Why are you asking me that now?”

“Because,” she blurts, clearly without thinking as words fail to follow through, “because I want your blessing! I want you to be okay with it!” 

“Blessing...?” 

“Yes,” she nods. “I can live with marrying a man I don’t love because I know I’ll come around, but I don’t think I can live knowing I’ve broken your relationship with Jin.”

Your weight shifts from your left to your right but the force of burden weighs immeasurably heavier on your very being. There’s nothing that would have prepared you for her request. Preparation, however, proves unnecessary, for your mind runs on its own and the words come to you as if rehearsal is all it's ever done. 

“I don’t think I’m in the position to grant you permission. That’s your decision and Jin’s,” you say, “and if my blessing is what you’re asking for, then I can give you it as many times as it takes to convince you. But if you’re asking for me to be okay with it, then I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you that.” 

Those are your last parting words as you slump on the wall behind you and a heavy sigh is shared between the two women on opposite sides of the door. Head low like a woman unjustly ashamed for speaking her truth, you take a deep breath with those heavy shoulders that carry the weight of a woman who had essentially cursed the joining of two hands. Nevertheless, somehow, you persist to make your way through the halls just as the ceremony begins; but as the audience settles and the light dims, something tells you the guilt that intoxicates your blood would have a longer-lasting aftermath than you had first expected. 

“Hey,” Alex leans into you, whispering, “is it just me or does Jin seem really jittery?”

“...no,” you answer, making sure to keep yourself hushed amidst a room of seated spectators. From the second bench to the front, fortunately on the opposite side of where Jin’s parents sit in the front row, you get a clear view of Jin and Youngji in between the black silhouettes of a couple heads; but anyone in the room can tell the bright studio lights and elevated platform don’t help his constantly shuffling case. “I don’t think it’s just you.”

“I see… so both the groom and bride are getting cold feet, huh?” 

“Well,” you utter, quipping, “in Jin’s case, he’d probably just say he forgot to sleep with socks on.” 

Alex turns to you with sheer confusion across her furrowed brows, “huh?” 

But before Alex could inquire further, the priest clears his throat and begins the opening ceremony. The officiality of it all, a long-dreaded image of Jin standing by another woman’s side manifesting into reality, has you subconsciously sent into a frenzy. 

“Dear Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Kim Seokjin and Heo Youngji in matrimony commended to be honorable among all…”

The clearing of his throat strikes once and hard against your chest. Each word that reverberates in the room echoes the vibrating pain in the blood pumped from a gaping wound. Your chest heaves and heaves and your lungs struggle to maintain composure, and while your breakdown may have gone unseen by the rest of the universe, you know for sure only two would catch sight of your state.

You and him. 

“...if there is any person who can show cause why they should not be joined together…”

The priest continues and the tension in the audience rises by the second of a stress-inducing prompt, but the moment Jin catches your eyes and the panic painted across it, his every attention remains on you. Guilt should’ve painted your expression now, having stolen the groom’s admiration from the rightful bride by his side, but all you can do is relish in a fleeting moment you deem the least this cruel world owed you. 

Maybe he feels the same way, because something catches in your throat like the hunch that has chills running down the nape of your neck. You don’t dare move an inch. You fear any movement would give you away, though you’re sure he already knew the second he met you halfway.

His eyes, those dazzling eyes that could single-handedly freeze any moment in time, they ask you for a permission only he could grant. 

“...let them speak now or forever hold their peace.” 

No one speaks but the thick air that engulfs every witness in the room is telling enough. Holding a shared, bated breath, everyone awaits and prays for the quick passing of this deafening silence. Your heart is pounding so hard you worry your passing out would be the one interruption to the ceremony, if not anything else. It takes everything in you to remain hidden, glued to the chair. You can hear every single movement in this room, the squeaking of a nearly retired bench, the rustling of clothes amidst a fidgeting audience, the anxious tapping of someone’s heels against the wooden floor, yet no one dares to speak now. 

The priest sighs a soft breath of relief. 

Everyone but you follows along. 

The priest clears his throat and pro—

“—I would like to speak.”

A loud gasp travels across the room. Every witness, including the priest himself, stares at the young man, wide-eyed. The knot in your throat inhibits you from following suit, but the hammer against your chest works harder than ever; because there he is, your best friend, standing boldly before the audience with a puffed chest and a tightened fist that brace for the repercussions. 

It all happens so suddenly, so swiftly. The strings that were left raveled now unraveled, the paths that were abandoned now explored, and the love of a lifetime whomst once bid you farewell now holds on with a determination that tells you they aren’t quite ready to let go, by happenstance or by conviction, everything falls into place. 

You had reprimanded yourself relentlessly for envisioning a moment like this and you truly believed this would be the worst case scenario, so why is it that only now, as your peering eyes are enamored by the sparkles in his, you find yourself smiling proudly and thinking to yourself… that’s your man. 

“Father, mother,” Jin turns to face his parents in the front row, declaring loudly and firmly, “I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love.” 

“What,” Alex shrills under her breath as she clutches your hands, “what is going on, Y/N?!”

Her voice doesn’t reach you and neither do her cold, nudging hands. The ongoing commotion around the room are like white noise in your background. You can’t even spare a second of your attention to the picturesque vision before you, the man who fights not for you but for the two of you.

Jin bows, head hanging low to his parents and the audience, “I’m sorry for saying this too late.” 

Everybody watches as his mother attempts to hold her husband in place. All is in vein, however, when one look of the baffled expression on her husband’s face conveys enough to everyone of the mayhem that is soon to ensue. He rips her grip apart from his arm and storms to his feet, pointing a finger at his apologetic son.

“W—” he struggles to find his breath “—what are you saying? You said you were okay with this just last week!”

“I did,” Jin affirms with his head still hanging low, “I thought I was okay with it until this week.” 

“How—”

“—honey…” the mother murmurs.

“No, changing your mind is one thing, but changing it at the very last second is another,” his father shakes his head, yanking his hand and stumbling on his feet before his distraught son could lend a helping hand. “Did I teach you to inconvenience others like this? Do you know how much trouble you’re causing Youngji and her family?”

“I do,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

His father grunts, “don’t you see, Seokjin? ‘Sorry’ can’t fix everything—”

“—actually, Mr. Kim, it’s not just Jin,” Youngji bounces to Jin’s side then pivots to bow to her parents who sit in the row before you, “I, too, don’t want to marry anyone until I really know them.” 

Physically, the spotlight remains affixed to the stage. Mentally, it feels as though everyone’s attention is gradually creeping its way toward you. It takes everything in you and the grip of Alex’s hands not to run from the prying eyes. 

“What?” their parents gasp. “Didn’t you say you were okay with it if it were Jin?”

“I did!” she insists, suddenly retracting. “I did, until…”

“I’m sorry,” Jin lifts his head to turn to Youngji’s parents before bowing once again, “this is all my fault.”

“No, no, you wouldn’t do this... tell me, son,” his father takes a step toward the stage, beckoning for an explanation, “tell me who did this to you?” 

Jin lifts his head, brow furrowing and lips thinning as he chooses to remain silent to his father’s question. Suddenly, it’s everyone’s duty to catch the perpetrator. The audience begins craning their neck every which way to skim over the possible candidates. Your heart sends threatening waves of pain that foreshadow the inevitable chaos you’re about to be dragged into. 

You can barely move from staring at the floor in between the groom and bride but you can spot the gradual direction of his mother’s eyes making its way toward you… and when they finally spot you, a lightbulb flashing across her eyes the second you make the lethal mistake of meeting her gaze for the first time in many years, it’s as though her son’s rebellion is the only thing that makes sense in this universe. 

Only naturally, his father catches onto his partner’s maternal instincts along with the rest of the crowd as their diverged attention converges, one head turning after another, to stare you down—some with awe plastered across their jealous front, some with ghastly colors than drain their face of blood. 

“Is that… you, Y/N?” his father’s voice echoes in the room. “Seokjin, don’t tell me…”

“No, father!” Jin jumps in, holding up a defensive pair of hands as he attempts to quell the fiery in his father’s temper. Wide-eyed and panicked, he glances between you and his father. “It isn’t her fault. I swear. I”ll explain—”

“—don’t tell me you’re going through all this trouble for a childish crush from five years ago?” 

A loud shriek began the chaos the second Jin’s father exploded, lurching forward with a vexing fist. Everyone in the front rows jump to their feet to hold him back, whereas people in the back rows stand to their tiptoes to get a better view of the climactic show, which includes a once-to-be-groom insisting his father punishes him and a once-to-be-bride slapping her ex-partner in the head for his submission. 

People are hysterically laughing, crying, screaming, yelling, fighting, but you sit there, frozen and petrified, until a hand shakes your entire being to your feet. 

“Y/N, Y/N, God damn it Y/N, earth to Y/N!” Alex raises her hand, just about to give you one hard slap to the cheek when you suddenly flinch awake. She then hastily pushes you toward the door in the corner of the room whilst everyone is too distracted to notice your discreet escape. She looks you directly in the eye, “you need to run before things get too crazy. I’ll handle things here for now.” 

“But Alex, I’m at fault here—”

“—yes, I mean, maybe,” she corrects herself with the shake of her head, “but you being here doesn’t help matters. I’ll help Jin and Youngji.”

“But—”

“—now go,” she starts your momentum with an encouraging push, “go!”

Nodding, you begin your long trek of the night. You run and you run and you run. Your mind runs blank but your feet run a mind of its own. You sprint down the dimly lit streets, you pay no mind to the traffic lights of endlessly empty streets, and your hair twirls in the wind that impedes your speed down the hills. Your surroundings become a blur as your arms swing desperately, your chest heaves incessantly, your eyes sting with tears, and your lips spill anguished sounds of incoherency until somehow, under the sway of the town’s cold spring air and your flux of emotions, you find yourself in a familiar street of your greatest dreams. 

Depleted of gas, your feet stumble into a trot that has your knee nearly buckling, which then turns into a jog that then drifts into an untroubled walk in which your lungs try to catch up and your mind is scrambling at a hundred miles per hour but you, yourself, have gone elsewhere. 

The luminescence of the full moon is blinding but all the more soothing as you navigate your way through this street you’ve walked one too many times before. For some reason, perhaps out of habit or a hope for something waiting at the end of the tunnel, you begin to count each passing light post. Seven fluorescent lights, you count, seven lights resembling the rays of moonlight until you finally reach your old acquaintance of many years at the corner of the street. 

Leaning your head back to stare at the familiar white text on a green sign post, you smile at the homely sight. 

CHERRY BLOSSOM AVE

A comforting breeze blows by you, the branches above you rustle in the wind, and the cherry petals from your old pal flutter into the air to envelop you in a solace you had long sought but failed to obtain. It’s like the calm after a storm. Not quite disconnected from the string that loops around your fourth finger to those of another man’s—no, you couldn’t unravel it after all this heartache—but at least away from the prying eyes that could tear you apart and away from the people who whispered gossip of matters they had none in. 

Hours seem to pass in the clouds that retire to reveal patches of new twinkling ornaments. You would have believed it if someone were to tell you all control of time lies within the blink of your eyes. The silence was calming initially; but the longer you stand here and the more the numbness begins to fade, the more you become aware of your lonesome circumstances. 

The silence is deafening. It knows your greatest fears and your innermost thoughts. You can’t handle it. You can’t bear the thought of being left alone to that voice in your head. 

You have to go. 

Where? 

You don’t know. You just know you have to go somewhere. You can envision all the places you can run to but all the roads lead you to one destination. Yes, anywhere would be fine, anywhere that leads you to him. 

“This marks the second time you’ve ever been so enraptured by something other than me.” 

Whirling around, seconds seem to become milliseconds and gravity becomes a law unbeknownst to earth, for you can’t believe the sight your eyes lay upon. There he is, standing by the tree just a few meters away with a loosened necktie and disheveled hair, almost as if a pitiful albeit wondrous mirage crafted by your shoddy prayers to the moon above. 

“Hey dummy,” he simply utters, taking a step or two toward you before poking your forehead, “what? Why’re you staring at me like I’m a ghost?” 

“What?” you manage to say under your breath. “I’m not staring…”

“I was just joking, you know?” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t be jealous over a street post. Psh, I’m not that dumb—”

“—why…” you frown when he quirks a brow, “why are you here? How are you here?”

“Oh no, she’s gone crazy,” Jin laughs at the stupefied look you give him. “At least an hour or two has passed since you left. Somehow, I managed to sit my father down and explain myself.” 

“And… what did he say?” your hands begin fidgeting. “He must hate me, doesn’t he…”

“I wouldn’t say ‘hate,’ per se… he’s perfectly okay with you. In fact, he likes you, really. He’s just mad at how things happened. After he calmed down, though, he understood where I was coming from.” 

Cautiously, you peek at those eyes that peer down at yours, “and your mother…?”

“She said she saw it coming from a mile away. Apparently she saw us arguing at the engagement party and knew right away,” Jin purses his lips. “Psh, yeah, as if I’m that easy to read.” 

Allowing yourself the smallest of laughs, you still can’t seem to rid yourself of that panging guilt. “And… what about Youngji?” 

Jin stares intently at your expression before cracking a smile and chuckling, ruffling your hair, “don’t go crying on me now, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.” 

“But I just,” your voice cracks, “I just hate myself for ruining everything for everyone—”

“—hey,” he cups his fingers underneath your chin to lift your gaze to his, “you did not ruin anything for anyone. I did this. I chose to fight for us.” 

Hesitantly, you nod and he smiles in response. 

“Youngji’s still explaining to her family right now. She told me to find you and Alex told me you would probably here.” 

Frowning, you mutter to yourself, “how did she know…?” 

“Well,” Jin drops his hand from your chin to raise them in the air, “we did promise to swear our wedding vows here, didn’t we?” 

“So what?” you deadpan. “You’re gonna marry me now after all this mess?” 

“I know you really want to marry me as soon as possible, but I think I’m gonna have to take a break from weddings for now.” 

Rolling your eyes, you mumble, “ditto.”

“But hey, I may have already broken the third promise,” one corner of his lips curve into an apologetic smile before he shrugs, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t marry you in the future! Plus, I may or may not have promised my father I would marry you in the near future to make up for it, so...” 

Scoffing, you gawk, “and who said I would marry you?” 

“Who wouldn’t marry me?!” 

The two of you stare at each other in silence, but the mirrored grin that stretches across your lips are undeniable. Soon enough, a loud fit of giggles and cackles fill the air. It happens all too quickly. The banters come to you like second nature, the conversation flows like a river through time, and somehow you find yourself lying beside him on the blazer he had laid out on the grassy hill and star-gazing for hours on end. 

It’s almost like you’ve seen this all before, just five years aged. 

“So,” Jin speaks, “how’s your birthday been?” 

“Oh, shut the hell up.” 

“What?” he cackles, getting up to lean on his arm whilst hovering you. “You know it’s not too late to tell me what you want for your birthday!” 

“I already told you,” you narrow your eyes at him, “I wasn’t joking when I said what I said.” 

Jin smiles, “in that case…”

He leans in to diminish the distance between his lips and yours. A lulling zephyr blows gently on the cherry petals as you close your eyes and you can picture the way they gracefully descend upon the two lovers below. Having witnessed the unforeseeable promises from start to finish, it’s almost as though an old accomplice was applauding a long-awaited finale. 

And when he finally pulls away, eyelids fluttering open just as yours do, he speaks, “happy birthday.” 

“What was that for?” you giggle. 

Jin’s mouth falls agape, “I’m giving you what you wanted for your birthday!”

“Well,” you purse your lips, “where’s my ring to confirm it then?”

“After all this time, do you really need a ring at this point to confirm my love for you?” Jin rolls his eyes. “You know I’ll always want to be by your side, married or not.” 

A fit of laughs escape you as your hand reaches up to squeeze his cheeks, “I know, I know. I’m just joking.”

“Well, good, cause I’m bankrupt at the moment,” Jin sighs, plopping back onto the grass beside you. A momentary silence passes before he turns his head to look at you, “just to make sure, you said you wanted love, right?” 

Turning to meet those sparkles in his gaze, you answer, “yeah?”

“You said you wanted to feel love, right?” 

Your grin grows wider by the second, “yeah?” 

“Well,” he says, “do you feel it?” 

“I do,” you answer. “What about you? Do you feel it?”

The vows hold a truth much closer to his heart this time around, and he smiles as he swears...

“I do, too.” 

#bts scenarios #jin scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #jin angst #jin fluff #jin x reader #jin x you #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #jin x y/n #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #bts au #bts imagines #jin imagines #seokjin scenarios #bts fic #seokjin fic #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #bts oneshot #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fluff #bangtan angst #bangtan jin

[mrsseverussnape]

Love Is You - chapter 11

A/n: hopefully this is gonna be posted… It was very stormy and the power is off for hours because of it. I tried to create a moodboard and i am trying to post it but even my own data is not working very well, the storm was that bad and probably damaged something… I deserve some comments after trying that hard to post that😂

    Christmas was around the corner, but Scarlett wasn't as excited as she used to be even it was her favourite time of the year. She was planning to celebrate it with her kids but apparently, they had other plans which she found out quite late. Sirius has invited Leo and Remus over for a boys Christmas celebration and Carina would celebrate it with her boyfriend's family this year. Actually both of the kids have offered to stay with her but she didn't want to ruin their plans for her own enjoyment. Then Scarlett thought to spend the day with her parents just like the old days but it turned out they have already booked a holiday, they would be in Switzerland during Christmas week. So this plan has cancelled too for her. Normally she wouldn't mind staying alone but on special days she would like to have a company, especially this year she needed it more. Scarlett thought if she could invite someone over for Christmas but she didn't have many friends and the ones she had already married and would celebrate it with their families or they were living in abroad. Then one possible person came to her mind but she wasn't sure if he had someone special to celebrate the Christmas with. But she wanted to give it a try and wrote a letter to Severus and invited him over for dinner.

    Christmas had a special place in their relationship. They have started dating on December, couple of days prior Scarlett's 18th birthday then she has invited him to her house for Christmas break when she found out he would stay at Hogwarts and with that he could meet with her parents. And the best memory of that Christmas was the present that Severus gave to her. He has got her a white British long hair kitten that she fell in love with immediately. Severus has gotten that idea since Scarlett was such a cat lady and actually she was a cat herself as an animagus, also she has told him about her late cat who passed away a year ago. Scarlett has named the new kitten Pearl and she has become basically their baby and in the summer of the same year they got another kitten together and named him Paul. The warm feeling of the memories made her smile, these happy memories has become her comfort zone lately.

    It was the Christmas evening and the kids were ready to leave while Scarlett was busy decorating a cake. Leo and Carina came to the kitchen to say goodbye to her.

"Mum the cake looks delicious but isn't it way too big just for you to eat?"

"I will have a friend over, i won't be alone."

"Oh you didn't mention that. Now we don't feel as guilty for leaving you alone. Who is coming?"

"Professor Snape."

The kids exchanged looks for a moment. They still haven't said anything to her about the trunk so she had no idea that they know about her past relationship with Severus Snape.

"It will be great for you two to remember good old days, I am sure you have missed them. Have fun!"

Scarlett looked at Carina rather suspiciously after what she just said. She was asking and talking a lot about Severus and her lately. "Thank you... Are you leaving?"

"Yep, take care and don't drink much mum."

"Okay mother." Scarlett rolled her eyes at her daughter. "You two have fun and say merry Christmas to everyone from me." She kissed their cheeks goodbye. "Love you."

"Love you too mum, bye!" Carina and Leo both apparated at the same time, leaving Scarlett by herself.

She did the final touches on the cake and put it in the refrigerator to set. Now she needed to get dressed before he came. Scarlett decided on a velvet bodycon dress which is off shoulder and its emerald green colour was complimenting her copper red hair beautifully. She brushed and styled her wavy hair and finally put her signature red lipstick. Scarlett looked herself in the mirror and enjoyed her view truly for the first time in a while. She hasn't dressed up fully for a long time and she has missed seeing herself like this.

    The knock on the door took her away from her thoughts. She rushed to the door and took a deep breath before opening it. When she opened the door and saw him standing there with a winter bouquet and wine bottle in his hands. It was such a coincidence that he has picked a velvet emerald green jacket to combine with his black trousers and shirt.

"Welcome Severus, come in! It is snowing outside."

"Hello." He smiled and entered the house once he lived in together with her, handed her the bouquet and the wine he brought. “These are for you.”

"Ah thank you, the flowers are so pretty!" She inhaled the flowers’ scent.

"Not as pretty as you..." Severus couldn't take his eyes off of her, Scarlett has aged like a fine wine.

She blushed lightly at his statement and looked away from him. "You can directly go to the dinner table; we better eat them before they get cold. And you know what, i cooked everything by myself, no help from the house elf!"

"Today is the big day then huh? You are showing me your improved cooking skills?"

"Oh yes today is the day!" Scarlett giggled while they were taking their seats.

He looked at the small feast that she prepared for them. It wasn't a classic Christmas feast since both of them were vegetarians but everything was looking more than perfect.

"I must say, i am already impressed Scarlett. Everything looks and smells splendid."

"Everything tastes splendid  too, i guarantee." She winked at him. "Help yourself, bon Appetit!"

    After the dinner they moved to the couch with their drinks in hands. Severus has really enjoyed the foods even he admitted that Scarlett's cooking skills have moved from 1 to 5 point. Scarlett was more than happy to hear that because cooking wasn't her best skill at all.

    Hours have passed and they have talked little bit of that and little bit of this, ate the cake Scarlett has baked and listened to some music from the record player. After 4 glasses of wine, Scarlett had an unnecessary amount of courage and suddenly asked him if he had anyone in his life even though she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the answer. Severus wasn't expecting that question at all but he had the answer.

"No, i don't." Severus finished off the wine in his glass. Starting a new relationship didn’t even cross his mind after their breakup. It was either Scarlett or no one for him.

"How come you are still single? You would make a great husband, i am sure."

Severus sighed and shook his head. "Scarlett, you are the only one who value me, every part of me that i don't even like myself... And i am so stupid that i let you go..." He wasn't planning the say those things but they did flow from his mouth, apparently wine has affected him too. But he didn’t care, if they had to do the talk they would now.

"I didn't want to go, you left me..." Scarlett whispered while playing with the wine glass. He hasn't even given her a proper reason, just left her. "Why did you leave? I deserve an answer Severus... It has been years, won’t you tell me still?”

Severus still didn't want to tell her the reason, he was sure it would make Scarlett very upset but he knew he should eventually. The reason has made sense to him at the time but the moment he broke up with her, Severus has regretted his decision deeply but he couldn't turn back because he has thought she wouldn't want him back anymore after how much he hurt her.

Severus took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, this talk wouldn’t be easy at all for both of them. "I will tell you but please let me finish it before saying anything… You remember that nightmare-like times between us and Sirius… I have visited Sirius when he was at the hospital after his suicide attempt, this was before your dad informed you about it. All he talked about was you and how much he loves you, how much you mean to him. And i thought maybe he loves you more since he tried to kill himself after you cut the ties with him, because of me... Scar i don't know, i just thought that he could give you more things than me and you deserve the best so i decided that you would be happier with him than being with me... Don’t look at me like that…"

Scarlett couldn't believe the things she just heard. She has always thought that he fell in love with someone else or he didn't love her anymore. "Severus, that is the stupidest thing i've ever heard from you... Didn't i show you enough that i was in love with you deeply and i was so happy with you...? I didn't want anyone or anything else but you Severus. I loved you… but apparently you didn’t love me enough…"

“That’s not true…” He couldn't dare to look into her eyes or say anything else, the words stuck into his throat. Now he knew it is a stupid reason but as a young boy it made sense to him. Severus has never thought a beautiful and rich girl like Scarlett would be his friend, let alone be dating someone like him. And there was Sirius, Hogwarts's most handsome boy and Scarlett's lifelong best friend, plus he was in love with her like crazy. Sirius looked like a better fit for Scarlett rather than himself, he never felt confident against Sirius, Severus didn’t have the looks nor the money while Sirius had both. But now looking at Scarlett and Sirius's divorce, it was clear that his thoughts were nonsense because he would never cheat on Scarlett, ever.

"Severus...?"

Scarlett’s trembling voice brought him back to reality from his thoughts. Severus looked into her tearful eyes, she always told more with her eyes and Severus liked that silent communication but now her eyes had an effect of a dagger and stabbed his heart. Then his eyes moved to her red lips and unconsciously he leant into them ever so slightly but he pulled himself back in the next second he noticed what’s he doing, he shouldn't have kissed her even he wanted nothing else. Scarlett was the same; her heart was wanting to kiss him but her brain was saying it's not a good idea at the current situation.

"I better go... Thank you for the dinner." Severus stood up to leave suddenly;  If he stayed any longer, he was scared that he wouldn't control himself and the conversation had a tool on both of them.

Scarlett just nodded, she still couldn’t process the things Severus revealed. "Good night..."

"Good night Scarlett..." And he vanished in the air.

Taglist:

@snapefiction @lizlil @elizabeth-baelish @misselsbells06 @mais-e @lunnybunny12 @anfre109 @entirelymesmerising @wolvesofwinter13 @mrssnivellussnape @mestin-writes

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#severus snape #pro snape #snape #sirius black #fanfiction #severus snape x oc #snape x oc #sirius black x oc #severus snape angst #oc #oc fanfic #mrs.severussnape #mrsseverussnapefanfic #fanfic #harry potter #love is you #severus snape fluff #angst

[captain-barnes-writes]

Someone Like You [2/6]

Summary: In which Sebastian tries to win you back a year and a half after your relationship’s rupture, but only because there’s a new man in your life. [Part two]

(Mini-series)

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Latina

Warning: Angst (lotssss), suggestive language, 18+, future chapters will include smut (just warning y'all!) NOT PROOFREAD

Word count: 1.8k

Sebastian’s steel blue eyes hardened at the sight of you in what seemed to be a music video.  Not because of you, but because you were with another man.

 You were barely clothed in flimsy delicate lingerie with your dainty hands wrapped around another man’s neck who was laying down on a crimson red bed. The screen panned out to different scenes, you on top of him peppering kisses on his face; your hands all over him with your body pinned to the bed . Other scenes had you in a jade satin bodycon dress that reached mid thigh parading around a garden full of roses hand in hand with the jerk-off face he had come to loathe within a few seconds. Why was he so greedy? He was grabbing at you like you were a piece of meat and even going as far as kissing you with obvious desperation. He couldn’t grasp the storyline, maybe the artist meant to show a video with a couple that was in love but really it seemed he was only taking this opportunity of being with you to get his hands all over you.

“That’s a Dominican bachata singer, man!I can’t believe he got her to be in one of his videos.” Anthony exclaimed to you, his voice slightly muted so the rest of the set mates wouldn’t overhear. Though they were in their own world, having their own conversations and not paying mind to the pair who were huddled at the far end of the table.

“Well, she’s Latina…” Sebastian managed to mutter under his breath. His grip on the phone was deadly and his searing eyes were wide. God, what the fuck was going on in that video? 

Thankfully your latest movie hadn’t required you to have a sex scene with your on-screen partner, just a few heated kisses that had made him squirm on his sofa when he decided to watch it. Though even those few on-screen kisses had made him feel uncomfortable and angry that his large hands had balled into fists. Is this what you had felt when you had to see him kiss other women on screen? Or even when you knew he’d been kissing women off screen, you were there. Sure, you’d shown your anger to him countless of times and even broken down into tears in front of him but he always ended up making it up to you by fucking you. He always fucked your anger and jealousy away. Now here he was eating his own words of you’re just overreacting or it’s just acting. Because it sure as hell looked more than just acting.

A whole year and a half later and you still had that earth-shattering effect on him. Fuck, you looked more than beautiful. Everywhere he looked for the last few months, there you were looking etherial and even more gorgeous than he could remember. You were as thick as he remembered, all thighs and ass. Your dark curls had grown in length and even your skin was glowing.  He knew he’d fucked up as soon as you sent that message but his ego had prevented him from fully reaching out to you again. He’d found himself on your street many times, even going as far as walking up to your apartment complex but becoming a coward and defeatedly walking back to his car. Even while dating other women, he did this. He was a coward, he knew. He was more than that, he was an imbecile.

“Video sucks ass.” Sebastian seethed, handing the phone back to Anthony who had an amused and all-knowing expression printed on his face. A smile swiftly took upon his features as he patted Sebastian on the back, laughing at full force at his friend who was obviously seething with jealousy.

“You’re so jealous, man. She still has an effect on you...never should have let her go in the first place.” Anthony shrugged, placing his phone on the wooden table and quickly taking a hold of his cold drink and sipping on it. His eyes were still glued on his friend who seemed agitated, hands fiddling and body language seemingly uncomfortable.

“Ya know it wasn’t my decision to make. She’s the one who ended things.” Sebastian said, eyes meeting his friend’s own wide ones.

“How could she not? She was obviously into you, I don’t know if you ever noticed but the girl only had eyes for you. Your commitment issues only pushed her away.” Anthony replied. Was the man blind, he thought to himself. It had been incredibly clear to him from the moment he met her, but his friend was apparently blind.

“I think you got too comfortable and she got tired of it. She was there for you and you couldn’t even give her a place in your life. Women like her deserve the whole world and it seems like she’s getting just that.”

Sebastian's eyes peered down at his fiddling hands at his friend’s words. He knew he was right, but hearing it was confirmation of the major fuck up he’d committed a year and a half ago. You did deserve the whole world and more.

“I’m going back to my room, Ant. I’ll see you tomorrow on set.” Sebastian said, placing sufficient money on the table to cover for himself and his friend. Anthony nodded when his friend patted him on the back and made his way out the.

Upon retreating back to his large hotel room, Sebastian couldn’t cope with the thoughts swirling through his head. Receiving a few texts from the pretty blonde he was currently dating made him even more agitated and he shut his phone off. He was too concentrated on thoughts of you.

He had betrayed you by not becoming fully engulfed in you, not giving you your rightful place in his life and letting you slip through his fingers without a single fighting word to stop it. No, sending roses to your place for weeks wasn’t enough after that definitive text you’d sent and neither were the meek few sentences he’d penned down on small cardstock paper trying to put a bandaid on the issue that he simply couldn’t grasp. That wasn’t enough and he knew it.

Seeing you with another man had ignited a fire within him that only you could extinguish. The more he thought about you becoming as enthralled with another man as you’d been with him was slowly enraging him, but it also brought upon a wave of anguish. You were not only an alluring woman, but also carried an aura that made everybody feel comfortable and loved. Being embasked in your very being and ambiance should have been a privilege because you were truly as perfect as anybody could get.

The more Sebastian thought, the more he kicked himself for having been so blind.

“Hard week at work?” You asked as soon as you saw Sebastian’s full frame walk into your apartment. Dark under eye circles and a sluggish walk were evidently key to figuring that he was tired. He looked the part and surely walked like it too, even his clothes were slightly disheveled.

“You have no idea, babe.” He responded back, blue eyes peering down at you as he wrapped his arms around your body. Engulfing you in a warm and much needed hug, more for him than for you it seemed as he sighed and kissed the top of your head. Your nostrils were overpowered by his strong cologne, scent of earth and peppermint as your face was planted against his strong chest.

“My poor baby.” You whispered, pulling away from him and jutting your lower lip out imitating a sad face hoping to lift his spirits with your stupid mockery. He laughed in response and pulled you in for a kiss. It was short and sweet, but really brought his spirits up.

“And it’s cold as shit outside. Almost froze to death making my way here.” He grumbled and you took notice of the cold white specks and wet marks on his jacket. It was snowing outside.

“Come on.” You said, pulling him into the living room by his hands and having him sit on the couch. “For someone from Romania, you sure are a wimp when it comes to the cold.”

“Hey,” he laughed loudly, not even offended at the jab. “I’m all over the place nowadays, guess I gotta get used to New York again.”

You grabbed hold of his hands and sure enough they were cold. Bringing his hands to face-level caused Sebastian to stare at you. You started to gently blow on his hands, pepper kisses on the knuckles and upon flesh on top of the hands. It was a small gesture, but he found himself dumbfounded at why you were so kind to him. And he also found himself feeling conflicted with his feelings again. He was also feeling pangs of remorse as he remembered his short rendezvous with a different woman only a few days ago. It had only involved a few kisses and a quick blowjob, but staring at you in front of him did something to him to feel such regret.

“What are you doing?”

“Warming you up, dimwit, can’t you tell?” You replied, pulling away from his hands and proceeding to use the fleshy lips that had been on his hands only mere seconds ago and kiss his cold cheek.

“You’re an ass.” Sebastian grinned and his lips joined yours in a kiss, running his hands through your array of dark curls and pulling you closer. This was why he was here. The mere comfort of your warm body did things to him he couldn’t explain. It was your hands running through his hair, the way your eyes lit up as they stared at his, long lashes peering up at him and lips engulfed on his very being.

All too soon you pulled away from his tight grasp and stared at him with wide eyes. It was awfully cold.

“I’m gonna make some hot chocolate. I can’t even kiss you without shivering, Seb. You’re too cold.”

“You have a whole heater in this apartment and you tried to warm me up by blowing and kissing my hands first?” He said, grinning at your reddening cheeks at the sudden realization that indeed your apartment had a heating system and you’d been too enthralled in him to even remember.

“Shut up.” You laughed, placing your hands on your face in embarrassment.

It wasn’t even one of the most memorable moments you’d created together, but Sebastian’s memory had taken him to that snowy day for some reason. You were the first person he went to see upon landing back in New York. On that snowy day, in particular, after a long week of work only you could make him laugh and feel at home. You’d even tried to warm him up yourself instead of turning on the damn heater. He’d been so dense back then to the true nature of your feelings for him, and his own as well. It had been so obvious. All your actions were so obvious.

He was kicking himself the more he drowned himself in his thoughts.

(To be continued)

-----

Let me know what you think! Hope to post the next chapter tomorrow. 

#sebastian stan x reader #someone like you #fanfic #marvel #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfic #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x latina #fanfic rec #angst #jealousy #marvel fanfiction

[mydarlingklaus]

A Very Mikaelson Christmas:

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

I know, it's been forever but I've really just been relaxing and taking care of myself the past couple of months but to all my readers for "Black Roses" I DID NOT FORGET ABOUT THE STORY! I will update as soon as possible and I miss it as much as you all do.

This is part 2 to chapter 10 of my klaroline family drabbles: Meeting the Mikaelsons, and occurs before the merge storyline. Link to my ff page can be found here and at the bottom so PLEASE leave a review!

Happy reading :)

"Alright let's go through the list:" Caroline began checking off her clipboard. "Elijah and Freya are on food duty. Marcel is taking care of music, Josie's bake goods are in the oven, Hope and Hayley are finishing the tree and other interior decorations while Kol and Alaric string up the lights outside. Did I miss anything?"

"Yes, like an explanation for why we are doing all of this tedious work when we could have simply hired professionals?" Rebekah blurted from her chair.

Caroline pointed a fake smile at the blonde Original who was casually sipping on a glass of spiked egg nog.

Given that this was the biggest Christmas party she's ever hosted, Caroline tried not to stress too much even over incompetence. This was a joyous time and was determined to make it special. Being an only child with just her mom Caroline never partook in grand holiday gatherings and now, she had two families coming together for the very first time.

"I knew I forgot something, Rebekah you're on table duty." Caroline ordered.

"The hell I am." She snorted before drinking from her glass again.

The baby vampire breathed in and out through her nose to refrain from her fangs latching onto an 1,000 year old being's jugular.

In an attempt to make everything perfect for tonight, Caroline created a schedule of tasks for all the family members to obey, and hers was making sure everyone followed through with their tasks—she didn't count on confronting prissy Mikaelson behavior.

Over a thousand years of existence and they all acted like they never heard of basic chores.

"Last I checked you're apart of this family too which means you have to assist in some way. You can't just drink liquor all day." Caroline scolded.

"Actually I've been doing that just fine, thank you very much." Rebekah grinned raising her glass to the aggravated blonde. "Not to mention I've spent all morning searching for those impossible snowflake place settings you so desperately desired. You're welcome by the way. So from where I'm seated I've done my part."

"If we're being technical, all you did was pick out the pattern from the comfort of her bed while I was the one who actually had to hunt them down." Klaus announced walking into the room, making Caroline exhale into a smile.

She was relieved and happy to see him, not just because she missed his handsome face but because he was the only one capable of talking Rebekah down.

Despite the minor difficulties, Caroline was grateful the girls insisted on bringing thievery one together this year to celebrate Christmas as a family.

Kol flew in from California the night prior, around the same time Rebekah arrived from New York City on her private jet. Alaric had last minute paperwork to finish before handing over the keys of the school to his right-hand-man, Dorian, for remainder of the break—he drove out early that morning, alone.

Alaric finally accepting Klaus as a permanent factor in both Caroline and the girls' lives made their complex situation more graceful.

"I hardly see how that's relevant." Rebekah retorted with an eye roll, amusing her dimpled face brother walking up behind the chair to place his hands on her slumped shoulders.

"It's relevant, little sister, because you haven't lifted a finger since you've been here. This is a family day which means everyone is pitching in, no matter how much we may not want to. You're no exception here. I assure you arranging a few place settings on the table won't break a nail."

She shoved him off. "Oh please, as if you actually care about the holidays when you haven't spent one with us since Hope was wobbling around in bloody diapers."

"Rebekah—"

"You know Nik, It's okay to admit you're only agreeing to such humiliating labor to impress your precious baby vampire. We all already know the truth." She teased, smirking while finishing off her drink. The expression in her eyes could easily get under anyone's skin.

Caroline pressed her lips into a tight line, already sensing Klaus' annoyance beside her.

After all these years of being in Klaus' life—in some capacity—she figured the vindictive Original would have warmed up to her by now.

Obviously, not so much.

"Damnit Rebekah, stop being a brat and just fetch the bloody plate settings." Klaus groaned impatiently.

He shook his head when she childishly stuck her tongue out at him before standing to make her exit towards the kitchen.

"Where are those bloody daggers when I need them?"

Caroline sighed exasperatedly when placing her clipboard on the piano. "Oddly enough, that doesn't sound too bad. I'll forever deny that I ever condoned that."

Klaus laughed under his breath. "Your secret's safe with me."

The blonde's white teeth nibbled on her rose colored bottom lip. Both hands fisted into his black buttoned-down shirt, fingertips teasing the exposed necklaces before she leaned on her tiptoes for a quick but lingering kiss. Lips barely tasting the other before slowly parting, foreheads resting against each other's for a few peaceful seconds.

"Hi." She smiled.

"Hi." He smiled back while tucking her hair behind her ears. "I don't like seeing you stressed."

"Then you're completely unaware of what it's like to have a conversation with you." She teased, kissing his pouty lip sweetly. "But if you were any different I wouldn't want you."

"And what a shame that would be."

Their lips pecked against each other's again before Caroline let out a deep exhale, looking over their Winter wonderland home to see what else needed to be done—there was quite a bit.

"You're still stressing." Klaus said when observing the stress line in her forehead.

Caroline scoffed turning to face him. "Uh, yeah! The tree is only half done, the outdoor lights are probably just slapped on like a pile of meat and did you not just see me pulling teeth just to get your sister to set a damn table!"

He chuckled to himself, kissing her wrinkled forehead and rubbing her arms to calm her.

"Rebekah is the laziest vampire I've ever known and I'm sorry about her behavior but love, she had point. We could've hired professionals to do all of the decorating and cooking in half the time. I have excellent recommendations from our last gathering. Money wouldn't have been an issue if that's what you were worrying about."

"Seriously? Do Mikaelsons know nothing about traditions?" She scoffed.

"Actually no, we don't. To be fair me and my siblings only began liking one another two years ago."

Caroline's lips pursed as she pushed his hands off of her. "This had nothing to do with money, and this isn't just any Christmas, it's our first Christmas with everyone home together and I wanted all of us to embrace all the holiday traditions as a family. Which includes forcing in-laws to do basic household tasks like decorating a damn tree."

"In-laws?" Klaus smirked.

Caroline's cheeks slightly reddened as she accessed the weight of her words. Her sweaty palms rubbed up and down her burgundy bodycon dress hastily.

"Shut up..." She mumbled, slapping his chest when his smirk grew.

"Look, Klaus I may not have grown up with a huge family but I did have a lot of friends who took that place. We decorated trees, hung lights, ate dinner together, drank more alcohol than legally allowed and enjoyed each other's company." She explained somberly. "They stopped me from feeling lonely every year and I always said when I had a family of my own those traditions wouldn't die, and now I do..."

The corners of Klaus's lips turned up into a soft grin at her shy doe blue eyes staring up at him through her thick lashes.

Klaus stepped forward, grabbing her by the hips. "I like this."

"What, my distress or me bossing you around?" She teased relaxing into his hold around her waist.

"You being in my family." He clarified. "I like that you're mine and hearing you consider this your home. You'll never be alone, love and I'm very much looking forward to many, many more Christmases to come with all the ridiculous traditions attached."

A warm smile made its way to her face as she observed the genuine contentment on his.

It was just as surreal for her too, but for Klaus to go centuries spending every holiday alone to now sharing it with an entire family, she knew how much these moments meant to him. But she was just as eager to spend the rest of eternity with him too.

Her hands reached up to his face to bring him in for a quick but effective kiss

She moaned into his mouth when he unexpectedly gripped her sides, tongues brushing as they stole a few more of these rare moments.

They were both dazed as Caroline pulled away.

"Thank you. I guess I'm kinda into you." She smiled while wiping her lipstick off his bottom lip with her thumb.

Klaus responded with another kiss, this one more urgent and than the last. His hand placements more determined and certain as squeezed her hips, riding up the skirt of her burgundy dress.

Caroline giggled against his lips.

"Nope. We can't right now..." She whispered, trying to show some restraint inspire of her body's craving.

"Come now love, I haven't had a second alone with you all day. Indulge me." He persisted, pulling her closer against his hard chest.

"There's still so much to do..." Her defenses slowly falling.

"That'll all get done momentarily. Besides, we are currently standing underneath a mistletoe. We must comply with all holiday traditions. Isn't that what you said?"

Caroline appeared slightly bewildered when looking up at the festive plant hanging over them, not remembering hanging it up there before peering down at her smirking hybrid. The inner conflict roaming in her head already a thing of the past when her hungry eyes made contact with his full bottom lip.

"Rules are rules." She agreed breathlessly, her arms now wrapped around his neck she happily succumbed to the surrender.

Not beating his tongue from invading her mouth and fingers scrunching up her dress as the oral exchange deepened into a more passionate frenzy.

Her sexual appetite no better than his, especially when being deprived of each other for longer than 10 minutes.

"Oh for fuck sake! Would you two get a room already?"

With a low groan, the couple detached their lips but remained wrapped in each other's arms despite Kol's rude interruption.

"Certainly. Every room in this house belongs to me after all." Klaus announced.

Kol tilted his head with a smile, leaning against the living room's wall with a glass of liquor in his hand and ankles crossed.

"I'm no prude and usually would be helping myself to the view of your public display of affection, however, someone has to save my precious nieces from the emotional scarring." He claimed. "Not to mention, I've been tortured enough today from hanging bloody Christmas lights with that moronic human all day. Last thing I need is a floor show featuring Caroline where I'm not participating."

The blonde's cheeks suddenly a deeper shade of blush pink while she held Klaus back by his chest.

"Say anything even remotely offensive towards her again and I'll rip out your heart through your throat. Understood?"

The younger Mikaelson grin spread menacingly at the beading gold hue in Klaus' eyes.

"Is it a proper Mikaelson gathering without a few death threats? Happy holidays to you too, brother." Kol lifted his glass to the couple before skipping out the room.

"Remind me to snap his neck while he's sleeping tonight." Klaus groaned.

"I don't get why you're still bothered by his remarks after all these years. You know how he is and how much he loves getting under your skin because you make it so easy. He's harmless."

"More like a pest." He scoffed. "And his habitual inappropriate comments towards you doesn't make it right Caroline and quite frankly, I'm over it. Why did you to invite him anyways?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Because I invited the entire family and last I checked he's your baby brother, who you've missed more than you want to admit."

"Debatable." Klaus muttered, causing Caroline to laugh as she trapped his lips with hers for a sweet kiss.

"Better?"

He smirked against her lips. "With you? Always."

Playfully rolling her eyes, she twirled away from his greedy hands.

"And speaking of the girls Lizzie just texted that she and Sebastian are about ten minutes away." Caroline informed, deflating Klaus' smile.

"Yes, how could I forget we allowed our naive 17 year old daughter to go on a solo road trip with a boy three centuries older than her." Klaus muttered.

"She's not alone."

His eyes narrowed at her teasing tone. "Caroline."

She giggled, fixing the collar of his shirt. "Lighten up. I thought we talked about this. You said you were going to stand down as overprotective dad when it came to the girls love lives."

"They're only 17 and 18 years old. They're not allowed to have love lives, especially with boys as old as I am." Klaus scolded.

"Weren't you the one who was more than thrilled to agree to Sebastian spending Christmas here?"

Klaus' face scrunched. " 'Thrilled' is a bit of a reach, love. More like you and Lizzie ambushed me with the invitation. I'd agree to anything for her to be here even if it meant agreeing to undesirables staying in my home."

The baby vampire's eyes narrowed. "Don't you think you're being a bit dramatic?"

"Dramatic?" His eyes widened. "Caroline, this ancient boy popped out of nowhere. Has shown a sudden interest in our very young and vulnerable daughter after knowing her for what, a few days? And has her so mind-warped he even managed to convince her to let him spend the bloody holidays in our family sanctuary. He's a stranger to all of us, so forgive me for being a bit skeptical."

Letting go of his collar Caroline took a step back, letting out a loud huff as she combed her fingers through her golden tresses frustratingly.

"If I say something you don't like, promise you won't throw a fit and ruin Christmas?"

"You think I'm being paranoid." He concluded for her.

She nodded while crossing her arms. "Yes, and unreasonable, and a bit of an ass."

"An ass?" His eyebrow quirked up.

"Very much so. Babe, I love you. I know you have nothing but good intentions when it comes to the girls but you need to stop. You have to trust them."

"I do. I've told you multiple times that was never the issue Caroline and you know it. Can't believe you're still insinuating otherwise." He barked.

"Seriously?" She scoffed. "Klaus look how you're reacting right now. It's Christmas! We're supposed to be cheerful and loving towards each other, not insulting and yelling. You try chalking up this behavior to being an overprotective parent but it's more than that. Deep down you don't trust that Lizzie can handle herself."

"You know that's not true." He claimed defensively.

"When you describe her as 'vulnerable' and 'naive' it sorta weakens your claim. It makes me feel like you don't trust me either when I keep reassuring you that everything's fine."

Klaus' features softened as he observed the clear irritation and concern on her face. The wrinkle in her forehead that swigged out whenever they argued shined in all its adorable glory, but for the first time he wasn't delighted to see it.

There was no one in the world he trusted more.

"Car-"

She raised her hand when he tried to step towards her.

"You're an amazing father Klaus, the best even. 90% of the time you're everything they need, and I try to not be jealous about it." Caroline confessed. "But that 10% is for who they are as young women, the parts of themselves they're not comfortable sharing with you. That's where I step in and give them all the advice you can't, like boys and hormones. Hard to believe but there are some things even Klaus Mikaelson isn't an expert on."

Klaus swallowed, feeling more guilty and ridiculous by the second despite Caroline's attempt at lightening the situation with a smile.

"Lizzie is doing good. She's stable and happy for the first time in so long and has no interests of messing up her progress. I know you worry and want to protect her but if she's ever going to be the free-spirited adventurer you always imagined her to be, you have to let her grow on her own. Let her make mistakes and be as normal of a teenager as she can. Believe me when I say nothing ruins the relationship between a father and daughter more than telling her she can't see the boy she likes."

Klaus winced imagining his bond with Lizzie being served over something as irrelevant as a stupid vampire boy.

Being in control of all aspects of his life was how he refrained from completely losing his mind. He was a leader, King of the French Quarter kingdom but these weren't his hybrid soldiers he could command—they were his family.

He nearly lost one daughter for not being there when she needed him, he couldn't make that same mistake with another—no matter the intentions.

"Bloody hell..." he groaned, tugging at his curls. "I've been a proper prick, haven't I?"

Caroline's eyes shifted upwards, pretending to ponder. "Only a little." She said while making Klaus lightly chuckle under his breath.

Biting her bottom lip she cautiously stepped towards him.

"We're not welcoming him into the family, just getting to know him. He makes Lizzie happy so we owe it to her to at least give him a chance." She said, grabbing his hands into hers and caressing the base with her thumb, feeling all the built up tension slowly being released from his body and the situation.

He tilted her chin up, making her crystallized blues peer into his. Her hands rested on his biceps while his free one tightly wrapped around her waist.

"I do trust you, more than anyone. Please tell me you know that." Klaus desperately pleaded.

Her eyes wandered his worried face and heart ached at his desperate tone.

Over the course of their relationship Caroline felt she had to jump through multiple hoops to smother Klaus with reassurance. Deep down she understood his insecurities about their relationship—if she was confident in choosing him and not hating herself for it—but she had some of her own as well, especially when it came to being a good mother.

Caroline slowly nodded.

"I know, but it's nice to hear you say it too." A soft smile made its way to her face.

Her arms circled around him before pulling her hybrid in for a kiss that dissipated the claustrophobic tension.

Klaus squeezed her hips as the kiss transitioned from languidly and slow to passionate and purposeful.

Their lips, warm and soft as they exhaled into each other's mouths. Standing underneath the mistletoe without a care in the world of who in their nosey family could walk in on them.

They were each other's last eternal love and were not going to hide it from anyone—especially during the happiest time of the year.

Caroline gripped his biceps again, softly moaning as she opened her mouth to him and Klaus was all too eager to comply to the request.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The doorbell rang before their tongues could even touch.

"Ignore it." Klaus groaned while going in for another kiss.

"We can't just ignore the door." She weakly retorted as their lips hovered.

"Sweetheart there's a at least six other people in this house. Let them feel useful." He mused when his thumb released her bottom lip from the clutches of her teeth.

Caroline was on the verge of complying until the buzz of her cell phone on the piano distracted them both.

"What is with all the bloody interruptions?" Klaus groaned.

The baby vampire giggled as she wiggled out of his embrace to check the bright screen.

"Our daughter is the interruption. She and Sebastian are right outside. Try to play nice." Caroline encouraged, grinning into another quick kiss before walking towards the front door.

Klaus felt a surge of panic run through his body as he watched from afar as Caroline opened the door.

Her face lighting up at the sight of the young blonde girl in the doorway, pulling her teeth in for a tight hug that visibly embarrassed Lizzie but he knew deep down she appreciated it.

A small smile began forming at the corners of his lips watching them together, knowing they were two of the four lights of his life—his forever love and daughter both under the same roof with him again. For the first time all day he felt whole, finally having all his girls together again, even if it was only briefly.

Family was something Klaus never took advantage of, not anymore.

He tried to focus on the tender moment playing out in front of him instead of the the smirking brunette boy standing beside Lizzie in the doorway.

Klaus' smile faded and fists clenched when Sebastian greeted Caroline with a kiss on both cheeks.

This was the first time he had actually seen the other vampire fully.

No denying he was originated from a different era, based on his ruffled white shirt, boots and blazer like a pirate. Lizzie explained that Sebastian was desiccated as a teenager but he still had a mature aura that made Klaus uncomfortable. His features so sharp and defined, it made him seem much older than he claimed. Too mature for a newly 17 year old girl to be with—Klaus thought.

"And these are for you, Headmistress Forbes. Elizabeth informed me that you fancy white lilies."

Klaus overheard the youngster using his charm on Caroline and based on her flattered reaction and an 'aw you didn't have to' quickly following, it seemed to be working.

-I hate this.

Klaus's chest compressed as the three began walking towards him with beaming smiles on all faces except the boy. Instantly noticing the young couple's fingers interlocked together while Lizzie and Caroline talked and Sebastian's eyes wandered around the mansion curiously.

-I really hate this...

He let out a deep exhale as a smile shaped his lips as the enthusiastic young witch skipped into his arms.

"Merry Christmas Klaus!" Lizzie beamed as their hug tightened.

The nerves that had piled up in Klaus' throat dissipated at the warm greeting from just one of the four lights in his life. It was difficult to imagine the centuries he went without physical affection given how habitual the act was now.

It had barely been two months since he last saw Lizzie but it felt like forever now that she was back home—her real home.

Rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head, Klaus slightly pulled away with one arm still around her.

"Merry Christmas sweetheart. How was the drive?"

"Great. I mean, Uncle Damon's burnt down Camaro is as ancient as he is and I nearly broke a nail operating the stick shift, but overall no complaints."

Klaus nodded his head, making a mental note to dispose of the Salvatore hand-me-down and buy Lizzie a brand new car.

"All that matters is that you're finally here safe and sound." Caroline beamed as she hugged her once more. "Everyone else is probably in the kitchen, slacking on their tasks but they'll be happy to see you."

Expecting everyone to follow her to the room but instead stood in confusion as no one moves.

Lizzie's feet stayed planted, biting her lip anxiously while pulling at the fabric of her white sweater like she wanted to rip it in half

"Um actually, before the rest of our dysfunctional family joins in on all the awkward fun that is to surely take place, I want to officially introduce someone to both of you first."

Klaus felt like the wind was knocked out of him when she took a step backwards to join the young vampire's side. Trying to keep his temper at bay when their hands joined again.

"This is Sebastian. He's a new student at the boarding school and my...my boyfriend." She timidly announced.

Another punch to the core.

Klaus' face was neutral but his body was stiff as a board from the pent up frustration that came with watching your child grow up right in front of you.

He tried to keep in mind the conversation he and Caroline just shared—easier said than done.

"It's nice to officially meet you Sebastian. We've heard great things about you. We're glad you were able to spend Christmas with us." Caroline greeted him.

"No, I'm the grateful one for you Headmistress. Not just for allowing me into your home for the holidays but also enrolling me into the school at the last minute. I see where Elizabeth gets her generosity from." Sebastian charmed.

Klaus' eyes couldn't roll harder, even more from how much Caroline was actually being affected by such mediocre charm. Her bright smile and modest blush that were once only preserved for him now being used on a amateur immortal with accent was sickening.

"It's an honor to finally put a face to the name, sir." Sebastian said with a nervous closed-lipped smile, stepping forward with his hand out.

Klaus stared down at the boy's hand, studied it like it was a foreign object as the three impatiently waited for him to make the next move. A handshake was final, a sign of respect and approval—he definitely didn't approve of him just yet.

He didn't like like this boy and if it were up to him his heart would be rolling in the ice cold snow for even gazing in Lizzie's direction. But he owed it to both Lizzie, and Caroline, to prove he trusted her.

Drawing out a dramatic exhale through his nose, Klaus uncrossed his arms as he locked eyes with the immortal boy. His jaw set and body tense when engulfing Sebastian's hand in a death grip, finally reciprocating the formal gesture.

"Um, Lizzie why don't we go find a nice vase to put these lilies in." Caroline suggested.

"You mean leave them alone, together?" Lizzie laughed. "Yeah, thanks but no thanks mom. I would prefer to return to Mystic Falls with my boyfriend in one piece."

Klaus chuckled at the nervous gulp dropping down Sebastian's throat.

"Sweetheart I promise, I won't kill him. Go on." He assured her with a sinister smile he usually wore before ripping out someone's spleen.

Relieved when she reluctantly followed Caroline out of the room, he set his focus back on the bug-eyed vampire in front of him.

"Unlucky for you I'm not big on keeping promises." Klaus gripped Sebastian's hand even harder—making him wince in pain and jerking himself forward.

"Mister Mikaelson—"

"Except when it comes to my family." Klaus added. "You'd be wise to remember the only reason your limbs aren't scattered around the bloody bayou and heart remains in your chest is because of Lizzie."

Sebastian frantically nodded, groaning from the pulsating ache in his right hand when Klaus finally released it from his hold.

Klaus took a step back, dipping his hands into his pants pockets as he watched the vampire boy massage his own hand. The vampire boy who was spending the next couple of days under his roof, charming his family. The vampire boy who captured Lizzie's heart and knowing there was nothing he could do about it—to protect her.

He sighed looking down at his shoes. "Do you care about her?"

Sebastian paused for a few seconds before nodding his head.

Klaus pressed his lips into a straight line as he walked dangerously slow towards the boy. "Usually I wouldn't tell a stranger this but you're not someone I consider a threat, Lizzie means everything to me. There is absolutely nothing I wouldn't do for her and that includes torturing and mutilating anyone who dares to hurt her in anyway. Understood?"

The vampire gulped when he tripped over the carpet, now realizing how close their chests were to each other's and his back to the wall.

"She's been through quite a lot in her short life and doesn't need an ancient delinquent ruining how far she's come. So I ask again, do you care about her?"

"Me and Elizabeth had our issues in the beginning, I'll admit." Sebastian shamefully confessed. "I—I did hurt her, rather cruelly, and by all unknown good graces she found it in herself to forgive me and grant us a second chance. Deep down I know I don't deserve the your daughter's love and care but, she's the first person in centuries who sees me as a man instead of a monster. Who thinks I'm worth a second chance. It'd be senseless of me to not see what this could become and the past couple of months have proven the future to be bright. So yes, Mister Mikaelson I care about Elizabeth immensely and will leave before I ever hurt her again."

The hybrid shook his head, a small laugh following after. "I know that story, all too well." Cleared the emotional lump in his throat.

It felt like looking into the mirror of he and Caroline's journey. How they originated in hate and hurt. The amount of chances she gave him, the way they saw each other in ways no one else could and the frogs she had to kiss along the way before choosing him as her forever.

Not that Klaus was rallying for this boy to steal Lizzie away, but he was beginning to understand the their draw to one another. Thankfully they wouldn't have to face similar challenges but there were sure to be new ones, and he'd be there by her side—if she needed him.

"Well, I will say I appreciate your honesty."

"I didn't want my first impression to be based under false pretenses." Sebastian grinned with a shrug. "Though she tells me not to worry, your opinion about me does matter. The Headmistress as well but from what Elizabeth has told me, you two are quite close. She values your insights and opinions more than anyone's. Given your infamous and intimidating reputation, it was actually less awkward meeting you than the hairy mortal with a crossbow."

Klaus threw his head back, laughing hysterically.

"You should've seen when he actually tried using that contraption on me. Free comic relief. I'm sure he has one with your name on it as well."

Sebastian snickered. "Yes, actually he's already threatened me with it a few times. Threats and all, I'm glad she has a family who cares about her to this extent. It's refreshing...to someone who is foreign to such familial love."

Klaus understood this boy better than he'd ever admit.

Sighing, Klaus placed his hands in his pants pockets again.

"Come on. It's going to be a long weekend and you haven't even scratched the surface of meeting our entire family."

Link to my ff page. Thanks!

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfiction #fanfiction #klaroline fandom #klaus x caroline #caroline x klaus #my writing #klaroline shippers club #lizzie saltzman-forbes mikaelson #fluff #kcedits #legacies #sizzie #the originals #Lizzie saltzman #legaciesedit

[cindersandroses]

Digital Get Down, Chapter 5

AUTHORS: cindersandroses ( losille2000 and cinderella1181)

CHAPTERS: 5/?

PAIRING: Actor!Henry Cavill/ Plus-Size OFC

GENRE: Romance/Fluff/HUMOR

FIC SUMMARY: When SuperHank met OrcPrincessPeach on the World of Warcraft message boards, it was love at first raid. Now, almost a year later, they’re ready to take the next step and meet in person. Half a world away from each other, both decide to meet in Atlanta for DragonCon, since she was already going to be there for her work as a game designer at Blizzard… never mind that she is a devout nerd. They both have to face the fact that reality is very different from a digital world.

RATING: Mature

WARNING: Mentions of assault.

AUTHORS NOTES: Love you all!

Also on AO3!

Chapter 5

Opal turned to the side as she looked at herself in the full length mirror on the back of the closet door. She smoothed the front of her dress over her rounded belly and picked at the slight ruching that was meant to help hide her imperfections along with the black color of the dress, but it did neither. There’d be no hiding anything. This was about as bodycon as one could get, and indeed she bought it a long time ago because she thought she looked hot in the form fitting silk. As soon as she got it home, though, and really looked at herself wearing it in the harsh light of day, she put it away, in the back of her closet with the other beautiful clothes she’d bought but never found the courage to wear.  

That was changing. Now. Today. Okay, not today. But as soon as she walked back into her house. She planned to go straight to her closet and pull them all out and wear each of them as soon as she had the right opportunity or occasion. Considering that most of them were on the fancier side of things, meant for dates, she figured she’d have more chances to wear them now, anyway.

Even though she and Henry would literally be halfway across the globe from each other after this weekend. She couldn’t dwell on that fact, though. If she did, then the sadness set in. She refused to let that particular emotion claw its way back. They’d make it work if it was going to work. It wasn’t like she couldn’t just take her computer places and work there.

If she could convince her boss to allow frequent trips.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t also spend part of his time in Los Angeles. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Henry walked by behind her, drawing her attention away from those troubling thoughts. He fumbled with the cufflink on his left shirt cuff. She was going to make a quip about it, but the words died on her lips when she noticed he looked at her like a fat kid looked at cake. He licked his lips, smiled, and walked into the bathroom.

She couldn’t help but blush. She never would’ve believed he was truly stealing glances at her, but that notion had been squashed earlier at the spa. In fact, now she was hyper aware of his long, molten stares. 

And it was all because of the wonderful esthetician who completed her facial after their massage. What had started out as a traumatic experience ended up making her feel the most confident she’d ever felt in her own skin, thanks in part to Jessa the esthetician’s enlightening conversation. 

“He’s looking at you like you are the purest water and he’s just had some hot sauce.” 

Opal giggled, and blushed, looking at the woman.  “I just keep thinking he’s going to be like, ‘Ugh, not my type’ and leave, Jessa.” 

“Girl, please. You got one of those peach bottoms that men love to get a handful of. You already got him eating out of your hand, he’s not stopped glancing over here this whole time,” Jessa said, putting her hand on her hip. “And if he does do that, I got a handful of fine brothers who would eat that peach bottom up. So you just let Jessa know and I’ll hook you up.”

The comment made Opal laugh loudly, disturbing the serenity of the spa and resulted in a few perturbed glares from other clients. Henry had glanced up, one eyebrow raised in interest. She smiled at him sweetly and he went back to his shave. Opal smiled. “Thank you, Jessa. I’ll keep you updated.”  

Opal had made sure to slip Jessa an extra tip, even though she was sure Henry had tipped everyone well. Stingy wasn’t really a word she would use to describe this man, not materially or emotionally. 

Or physically.

Definitely not physically. He liked touching. Being affectionate.

She did not; or, more aptly, she was not used to it in the romantic sense. But she wasn’t even that affectionate with her family. There were a few hugs here and there as a child, but they weren’t overly huggy. And then there was the other thing he didn’t know about, because she never talked about it, that prevented her from initially enjoying his touches.

It was getting easier, though, the more he touched her. She found, with some relief, that she actually quite liked being close to him in that way. Perhaps there was hope for her, after all.

Opal moved away from the mirror and followed his trail to the bathroom. She rested a hip on the door jamb and watched him finish his grooming. He saw her in the mirror and smiled. 

“Like what you see?” he asked, that insidious brow raised.

“Nah,” she said with a grin. “I was just thinking about how you use twice the product I do.”

Henry rubbed his hands on a hand towel to remove the remnants of whatever moisturizer he’d used on his freshly shaved jaw. “That’s because it takes a lot to make me look this good. You’re already bloody gorgeous, so you don’t need it.”

Her cheeks heated and she shifted her weight awkwardly on her bare feet. Why were compliments so difficult to take? 

“And as an answer to your question, I do like what I see,” she replied. “I appreciate your efforts. But I also love getting to just observe each other. That’s what we were missing over the last year.”

Henry stopped and smiled at her. “I watched you getting ready, and that’s why I’m so behind. I couldn’t stop watching you. You are enchanting,” he whispered. 

The air caught in her lungs upon hearing the deep gravelliness of his sentiment. He closed the distance between them. The hunger, the lust, the pain, the joy, the need, all passed across his face. He leaned down and brushed his lips across her temple.  “We’re going to make a hell of a couple tonight, Princess.”

“Yes, we are,” she replied breathlessly. 

“Let me finish getting ready. You are distracting.” 

Opal giggled. “Pot, kettle.” 

She moved away from the door and went back to the bed to struggle into the sky high heels she had thought would be great to wear, but now she regretted the decision to pack them. Her feet were going to ache by the end of the night. But--the minx inside her reminded--that could possibly lead to another massage. This time, just with Henry. 

As she finished up the last buckle on the strappy things and stretched her legs out to check how they looked, she noticed Henry watching from across the room with a glazed look in his eyes. She laughed at him, because it was the exact same look she’d had as he secured the waistcoat around his trim torso.  “This… me putting on shoes shut you down?”

Henry reanimated with a shrug. “I have a thing for really high strappy, almost slutty, heels. Nothing like…” He stopped and blushed slightly. “Uh, never mind.”

Opal stood up and went over to him, just barely shorter than him now, and grinned. “I will have to remember that for later,” she replied. 

“Oh, god, please do. Bonus points for silk stockings and the whole belt contraption,” he murmured.

She giggled. “You know, men and women are so different. You want the littlest piece of clothing on me, but I’d rather see you in a three piece suit.”

“I can fuck in a three piece suit just as well as I can without,” he teased.

His comment, and the harsh word, caught her off guard. Taking the opportunity, he went over to grab his cell phone. He beckoned her with a crooked finger. “Come here.” 

She didn’t ask for clarification or even think about it; her feet in their dangerous footwear moved of their volition. When she reached him, he wrapped his arm around her and kissed her head, all while snapping a quick picture. He looked at it, smiled, and turned it around for her to view.

Her cheeks were high with color. Her skin glowed; her eyes sparkled. Her smile showed almost every one of her teeth. Everything about it made her seem so vital, so alive, so… beautiful. She had never seen herself so happy. Simply being near him made her want to beam from ear to ear. 

He smiled softly. “Now you see what I see when I look at you.”

“I don’t always look like this,” she protested.

“You do,” he replied. “Let me send this to you so you can send it to Amber.”

Opal shifted uncomfortably. She’d completely forgotten about sending Amber a picture. What kind of friend was she, anyway? 

“We can’t bring our phones tonight,” he explained. “Something about making sure nothing unflattering gets out.” 

Opal looked up at him and nodded. “Okay. Let me just send Amber a text telling her I’m going out for the night.” 

She saved the picture to her phone and opened up the text stream with her friend. She took the picture, sent it, and wrote, “I don’t think I ever expected my Hank to be this real. Going out for the night. Talk to you in the morning.”

She plugged her phone in, stood up, and took Henry’s hand. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

 ~~~

Opal stood in the atrium of the Georgia Aquarium and sighed. She was enchanted. She’d been here a ton of times before at previous cons, but never on a night specifically designed to be an intimate cocktail party with all of the con’s celebrity guests.  

What actually was her life right now? 

Henry talked to Dany and Dwayne, and she couldn’t get over the fact that she was standing next to The Rock. How many times had she sat next to her brothers while they watched this giant man wrestle? If someone had told her this was going to be her life when she left Los Angeles the night before, she’d have told them they were lying. It was all a little surreal.

Dany smiled at her, obviously picking up on the fact that she had zoned out and had literal stars in her eyes.  “So, Opal, what do you do?” 

Opal hummed and blinked at her. “Yeah, sorry. I’m a designer and programmer for Blizzard. I have been there, oh gosh, almost ten years now. Best job I have ever had.”

“And you live with?” Dany inquired. 

Opal understood Dany’s reticence to accept her into the group. Dany didn’t want anything to harm the business, and even though she seemed tough, she clearly cared deeply for both men as friends. Still, though, Opal didn’t think she gave off a crazy fan vibe.

“My best friend, from like middle school,” Opal said, moving to stand closer to Dany. She leaned in to speak quietly.  “I know you’re worried about me using him, I get that, trust me. If I was in your position I would, too. But honestly, Dany, I didn’t even know he was him… until this morning when I arrived. I just thought he was a dorky British guy named Hank. That was it. In the months leading up to this I just got to know his heart and who he is, not Henry Cavill, God’s gift to women. I knew SuperHank, the cleric who runs around healing people, because he is that guy. I got to know the Hank who was shy and loved to cook and gets excited about Warhammer and new fantasy novels. Who tells me constantly that I am worthy and beautiful.” 

Dany beamed at her. “That’s just what I wanted to hear.” 

“And frankly, you scare me a little bit, so I won’t do anything untoward,” Opal said.

Dany laughed and flexed a bicep. “Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t.”

“But seriously, Opal,” she said and grabbed Opal’s hand. “He needs someone he can love with his whole being, and I’ve never seen him happier than when he has spoken to me about you.” She squeezed her hand. “It’s not going to be easy, but I promise to make sure you’re okay and safe, and that you can be with him.”

Opal grinned. “He is pretty special.” She looked beside her, expecting to find him there.  “And... gone, apparently.”

Lauren smiled at her.  “He and Dwayne went to get some drinks.” 

Opal felt her stomach clench. She tried to smile, but before she could muster one, Henry was back by her side. He handed her a flute of champagne. “Here, Princess.” 

Opal took the glass from him and didn’t say a word. Her jaw clenched and it took everything in her to stop her hand from shaking. 

Henry frowned. “Is that okay? Do you want something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, it’s fine,” she replied and tried to smile again. Even though she couldn’t see it, she knew it came off as more of a grimace because of the expression Henry returned. He knew something was wrong, but the words to explain it to him failed to form on her tongue.

Not that she really had the chance to say anything, anyway. A loud, booming voice rang out across the atrium, “LITTLE BRUDDA!!!”

Opal spun around and watched in abject horror as two grown men raced towards each other and chest bumped each other like drunken frat boys.

Dwayne shook his head.  “Seriously, you two? We’re in public.” 

Henry came back and smiled.  “Jason, my man, this… is Opal.” 

Jason looked at her, his eyebrow raised.  “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Jason…” He took her free hand and kissed the back of it. “If he gives you any trouble, let me know.”

Opal blushed. “Thank you. I will.”

Dazzled once more by the Man Also Known As Khal Drogo, Henry startled her with a hand on the small of her back. She looked up at him, still holding the flute from which she had not yet had a drop of champagne.

Henry leaned down into her ear. “Do you want me to get something else for you?”

She shook her head.  “No, I just, uh… I’m going to get my own drink.” 

She excused herself and headed over to the bar, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t running away from him and running away from the conversation she should have already had with him, even before they both decided to meet here in Atlanta. 

She wasn’t in line long when she felt his presence behind her. 

“Are you okay?” he asked again, concern written all over his face.

“I am, honestly. I just… well… it’s stupid. I don’t drink anything that I don’t see poured myself, and I very rarely drink alcohol in public. I should have told you. It’s just my hang up and, gah... I’m sorry I freaked out a little bit.”

Henry’s eyebrows knit together. He nodded, but he clearly wanted more. 

“Let me get my drink and we’ll take a walk and talk, okay?” she asked, hoping to smooth things over.

He nodded and stood quietly with her. Even though he was clearly confused and maybe a little angry, his presence was still one that calmed her and she found herself resting against his sturdy bulk as they waited. Opal ordered her cranberry juice in a martini glass. To anyone other than herself and Henry, it looked like a Cosmo. It was her fallback when she wanted to hang out with the cool kids but didn’t want to do what the cool kids were doing. Because that one time she did what the cool kids were doing? She lived to regret it.

She took his hand and started to walk through the first exhibit. Opal paused at a tube enclosure in the middle of the room full of jellies. A black light shone down into the water, illuminating the sea creatures as they performed a graceful, haunting dance around their tank. She stood quietly, Henry standing next to her, silent, thinking. 

Finally, she cleared her throat from the heavy emotion making it difficult to breathe. “I was drugged.”

Henry’s fingers curled into her back. Though he tried to mask the sharp intake of air, his gasp was still audible. “Opal, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” she said, just barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t just that. Amber and I were freshmen in college and I wanted to fit in. We went to a frat party. A guy we had art history with invited us.”

His anger was palpable; it wasn’t anger directed at her, though. Somehow, she knew that, as she stared at the gelatinous orbs bobbing through the water. She took a sip of the cranberry juice before moving on.

“I woke up the next morning, head fuzzy, in a room I had never seen before, and my panties around my ankles.” She braved a look up at Henry, to gauge his reaction. The sharp line of his jaw was set, his rage evident.

For some reason, it was cathartic to share this secret with another human. Amber knew, of course. Amber had nursed her back from the brink after they got home from the hospital.

“It’s the reason I pull away sometimes when you touch me, and the reason I am so unsure of myself. I’m sorry I never told you before, but you have a right to know.”

Henry didn’t speak; he looked at a point beyond her, staring in stony silence for the longest time. He finally tore his focus away from that point and gazed down at her. His face spoke volumes, even before his words did. He rested his chin on her head and wrapped her in his arms. “You know I would never, ever do that.”

“Oh, no, I do! I just… I want so badly for you to touch me, to be yours, I just need… time,” she said. “I don’t even know if I’m actually a virgin or not. I don’t know what they did to me. The next morning, Amber took me to the ER and a rape kit was done, but it was inconclusive. I’m sorry if this changes the way you feel about being with me.”

Henry pulled away from her and put his drink on the floor. He took her face gently in his hands. “I never, ever would feel any different about you. I just… I understand now.” He kissed her forehead, but didn’t move his lips from the spot they’d touched. His next words were muffled, but the meaning behind them was everything. “My promise to you is that I will not hurt you, and it’s all going to be at your pace.”

She smiled and pushed his hands away from her face. With her free hand, she reached up and let her hand rest on the nape of his neck. “Well, then, we can do this, cause I’m very ready for it.” 

With little strength, she pulled him down to her and kissed him. It wasn’t passionate or chaste; it was somewhere in the middle. A reassurance. A promise. Her promise to be as open with him as possible. His cue that she was okay with him pushing her boundaries. And she loved him for it.

#Henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fan fiction #henry cavill fan fic #dgd #digital get down #tw:mentions of assault

[star-spangled-steve]

His New Partner

Chapter 41: The Bargaining

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 2736

Warnings: Mentions of sex, mentions of the Reader’s period, fluff, light angst, grieving, light cussing.

A/N: Not much to say this time, just thank you to everyone who’s waited patiently for these updates!

The passage of time has always been a funny thing. Some moments, usually the ones that you want to last, go by so quickly. One moment you’re falling into the arms of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, the next he’s asking you out, and the next you’re getting married. Though other moments, usually the ones that you want to pass as quickly as possible, tend to linger. Dreadfully. Like the time when your son gets turned into ashes, or when you find out that there’s no hope of getting him back. Those moments are the worst.

It had been a little over three years since the snap. Two years since Steve and Y/N had decided to get a house away from the Compound. One year since the woman had found her husband brutally hitting his punching bag after having a nightmare about Thanos; though, that had definitely happened more than once. The time was going by slowly, that was for sure. But they were handling it. As best as they could, at least.

Tonight was the night of their Sixth Wedding Anniversary; September 12th, 2021. It seemed like just yesterday they were in 2015, reciting their vows and saying their ‘I Dos’ in front of all their friends and family. Though at the same time, it had felt like a million years ago.

“After you, m’lady.” Steve playfully spoke as he opened up the front door to their home, allowing Y/N to walk in ahead of him.

“Why thank you, kind sir.” She quipped back, grinning at his cheesiness as she walked inside.

The couple had spent the night at a high-class restaurant in the city, luckily not disturbed by any fans or paparazzi. Y/N had worn a stunning lavender coloured dress and Steve wore a stylish navy blue suit. They had looked like they were straight out of a fairytale. And for one of the first nights in a while, they had felt like they were straight out of a fairytale too.

Everything had gone perfectly, from the food, to the gifts, to the smooth ride home, and their night was only getting started.

“Stevie!” The young woman squealed out, covering her backside with her hand. Just upon entering the threshold, her husband had sent a teasing smack to her butt, and she couldn’t help but giggle. “What was that for?”

“Are you kidding?” The man smirked. “I’ve been waiting to do that all night.” He watched as his wife blushed and wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her close to his chest. “That dress just hugs your ass so perfe-”

“Uh... language.” Y/N interrupted him with a grin.

Steve shook his head and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh you little...” Within a second he had spun them around and pinned her against the door, looking down at her with a certain desire in his eyes. “What game are you trying to play here tonight, babydoll?”

The woman instantly sighed, beginning to frown a little. “Unfortunately, none.” She rested her head against the door, looking annoyed as ever. “I started my period today.”

The man’s face instantly fell, and he let out a loud groan. “Seriously?” His wife nodded and he pointed a stern finger down at her nether regions. “You need to stop coming at the worst of times.” He chastised, making Y/N laugh.

“Believe me, honey, I’ve been telling it that for many years.”

Steve took a couple steps back, finding no use in keeping her pressed against the door if it was going to go nowhere. He noticed that his wife looked slightly guilty.

“I’m sorry that I ruined the mood.” She spoke disappointedly.

“No, no, no.” The man shook his head, taking her hand in his own and leading her farther into their house. “You did no such thing. It’s not like you can control your cycle.”

“I guess.” Y/N said, taking off the high-heel shoes that were just killing her feet by this time of night. “So what do you wanna’ do now?”

“I’ll tell you what,” Steve began, “you go upstairs, change into something more comfortable, and I’ll set us up some blankets outside. We can lay back and watch the sunset together. How does that sound?” He proposed, seeing a large smile start to form on his girl’s beautiful face.

“That sounds awesome, Stevie.” She stepped on her tippy toes to press a soft kiss to his lips before heading up the stairs, her husband staring at her form as she ascended and feeling like the luckiest man in the world.

Y/N took off her bodycon dress and replaced it for a pair of comfy pink pyjamas, taking off her makeup and putting her hair up in a high ponytail. Though after she put her shawl and stilettos away in the closet of their bedroom, her eyes fell upon a box that she and Steve could have a lot of fun looking through tonight.

*****

“Now what do you got there, sweetheart?” Her husband, now stripped of his suit jacket and tie, asked her as soon as she walked outside on the pool deck.

He had made their backyard up quite nicely, multiple layers of blankets on the grass and a couple throw pillows to accompany. There was also a couple bowls of Y/N’s favourite snacks, and the woman felt so grateful that he had put this together for her so quickly.

“Steve, this looks great.” She practically melted, heading down the stairs until she could reach him, bare feet on the grass. She put the box down next to the blankets before giving him a big hug, pressing a couple kisses to his clothed chest. “You always spoil me on our anniversary. Actually, you spoil me every day.”

Steve grinned, resting his chin on her head, stroking up and down her back. “Don’t give me too much credit. I just like making you happy.” He felt her nuzzle her head even further into his embrace, and his heart swelled with love. “So what’s in the box?” He asked again, realizing that she still hadn’t given him an answer.

Y/N separated from his embrace, going over to the box and taking the lid off. “See for yourself.” She stated before sitting down on the blankets, making herself comfortable.

Steve picked up the box and sat down next to her, placing it in between them and looking inside. “Our scrapbooks!” He exclaimed.

“Yup!” The woman grinned. “I figured we could look through these together. I don’t know, it’s kinda’ fun.”

“Absolutely.” Her husband chuckled before pulling one of the four out of the box.

“Our wedding!” Y/N cheered. “Oh, I love this one. So beautiful.” She marvelled, running her fingers down the silky white cover.

“I know.” Steve agreed. He moved the box out of the way so that they could snuggle closer, wrapping his arm around her waist.

She opened the book and they began flipping through, reminiscing about how wonderful that night was.

“Tony.” Y/N snorted, pointing to the picture of Stark holding her lacy white thigh garter. They had played the wedding game where the groom takes off the brides garter with his teeth in front of everybody, before throwing it into the crowd of unmarried men to indicate who would next be married. And well, Tony was the lucky guy who had caught it. “He started freaking out. Remember? Funny because he’s happily married now.”

Steve chuckled at the memory. “Didn’t you take it back from him and put it back on, though?”

“Yeah.” Y/N spoke sheepishly. “I wanted to keep it as a memory. And he was being weird with it anyways.”

What they saw on the next page made the both of them audibly laugh out loud, looking at a funny picture of Thor with cake all around his mouth.

“He ate like four pieces of that cake!” The woman giggled, remembering just how loud the burp he had let out was.

“Actually it was five.” Her husband corrected, making her laugh even harder. Steve enjoyed watching her be so carefree like this. It was rare for her these days.

The couple had continued to flip through their wedding book for a while, looking back at memories such as Sam’s Best Man speech, Natasha’s Maid of Honour speech, their delicious menu, and the many pictures of them dancing the night away.

Soon they had moved on to a couple other books, such as their honeymoon photos one and the one filled with a whole bunch of photos from when they were dating. There was another scrapbook inside the house, the A.J. scrapbook, but Y/N hadn’t looked at it in years. She just couldn’t bring herself to.

The books were beautifully made by a woman Y/N had hired, knowing that she could probably never put together something that crafty on her own. She had only made one of them; the one that she had given Steve for the Two Year Anniversary of them dating, the same night that he had proposed. It looked nowhere near as professional as the others, but just knowing that it was his precious wife who had put it together made it Steve’s favourite one.

It was the last one in the box, and the man had just pulled it out.

“Look at this one.” He whistled and Y/N blushed, seeing her own artwork.

“I haven’t seen this in forever.” She stated, running her fingers over the title ‘Steve Rogers’ Memories’.

Steve smirked. “I have.”

“You have?”

He nodded. “I look at this one all the time.” He placed the book in her lap, opening up the cover. “I might have even added a few things.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

Her husband just nudged his chin towards the book, urging her to keep flipping.

She made her way through many pages, looking at all of the adorable pictures of Steve from when he was growing up. It wasn’t until she got to the last quarter of the book when she stopped flipping, looking up at her man lovingly. “These weren’t here before.” She softly pointed out, referring to the several photos of Steve and herself that lined the pages.

“I added them.” He told her, fondly staring at the pictures of them together. “The book is called ‘Steve Rogers’ Memories’. You think that you, the most important aspect of my life, wouldn’t be in there?”

The woman gulped, giving him a teary-eyed smile. “Aww, Stevie.”

“You’re crying?” He chuckled, bringing a hand up to her face to cradle it.

She shrugged, letting out a little laugh of her own. “Hormones.”

Steve placed a chaste peck on her lips, followed by another and another before pulling away. “You’re so cute.”

They turned back to the book and looked through all of the things that he had added, astonished at how quickly a lot of that time had gone by.

It was then, in that intimate, sunset-filled moment when Y/N realized something. So many of the photos in that album had been taken over 80 years ago. Taken in a time where Steve never even expected to see the twenty-first century, being so sickly and all. Taken in a time where the heroes and villains of today were things that couldn’t even have been dreamed of. It made her realize that truly, anything could happen in their future. Even the wildest of things could be possible.

“Steve.” She spoke in a sudden serious tone, making his ears perk up.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

The woman closed the scrapbook, placing it back in the box with the others. “I just had a thought. Don’t call me crazy, but-”

“I would never call you crazy.” The man told her, causing her to peer up at him.

She took a deep breath. “Okay, uhm, I know that we’ve discussed how... uh, A.J. isn’t going to be coming back.”

He nodded his head. “Yeah.”

“But listen, just hear me out. I think there’s still hope.”

Steve sighed. “Sweetie,” he took her hands in his own, “please don’t do this to yourself again.”

“I’m serious.” Y/N insisted. “Just think about it. Think about... everything that’s ever happened to you. Everything in our lives, your life especially, has been a series of almost impossible events falling into place.”

“Y/N-”

“You waking up after everybody thought that you had died. You surviving the Battle of New York; meeting me in the Battle of New York. Winning the Battle of Washington, D.C., the Battle of Sokovia. Both of us surviving the snap.” She listed on and on, the words coming out of her mouth before her brain could even catch up. “It all seems like it would be impossible, but it happened.”

The man sighed again. “N/N, a lot of that is the result of me having the super soldier serum.”

“Once again!” She exclaimed. “The fact that you were the one he chose for the serum… it all led to here.” The woman took a shaky breath, trying to make him see where she was coming from. “If you compare it to everything else, A.J. coming back doesn’t seem too crazy.”

Steve internally began to worry. He hated seeing her give herself false hope like this. “Baby,” he began, “not that you don’t have a point, because you do, but I think that you should try and stop thinking that way. I don’t want you to get your hopes up for nothing, sweetheart.”

“But what if it’s not for nothing? What if-”

“That’s exactly what you shouldn’t be thinking. ‘What if’ is only going to take you so far. ‘What if’ very rarely becomes a reality.” He watched as her shoulders slumped and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. “I love your optimistic way of thinking. One of my favourite things about you is how you’re like a little ray of sunshine. But Y/N, you’re bargaining with yourself right now. And I’d hate to see you get even more hurt in the end.”

His wife let out a small sigh, beginning to tear up again. “Shit. You’re right.” She hung her head, avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry for bringing all this up. I sound like a lunatic and I ruined the mood again.”

The man shook his head. “No you don’t and no you didn’t. Remember what you told me? It’s healthy to express your emotions.”

Y/N shrugged. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

“Hey, look at me.” Steve instructed, smiling when she looked up at him hesitantly. “This is the most important thing that you have to remember: no matter what, if he does come back somehow or he doesn’t, we will be okay. You will be okay. I know how hard it is, but life will continue on and you will find other things to be happy about. Alright?”

She nodded her head. “Alright. You’re right, once again.” She shifted so that she was straddling his lap and gave him a big hug, tucking her face in his shoulder. “Thank you, Stevie. You always make me feel better.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” He quipped, running his hands up and down her back comfortingly. “You always make me feel better too.” Steve felt her smile into the crook of his neck and grinned to himself. “I love you, baby girl.”

Y/N hugged him even tighter, not wanting to let go. “I love you too.”

The man laid them down so that she was still straddling him, wrapped around him like a koala bear. They stayed like that until she fell asleep and then he carried her upstairs, tucking her in their bed before going back outside to clean up.

Later, as he was putting the scrapbook box back in their closet, he turned around to his sleeping wife and thought to himself about how beautiful she was. And then, for the tenth time that day and the millionth time since he’d met her, Steve looked up at the ceiling, thanking whatever God or Gods were up there for giving him the gift that was Y/N.

They had been through a lot in all of the years that they had known each other, and the man was certain of one thing. Whatever they went through in the future, they would always have each other’s backs, and they would always come out of it stronger than they were before. He would make sure of it.

Next Chapter

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#steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n

[thisbrokenmask]

Eerie-sistable

pairing: female reader x Yoongi (mentioned)

genre: crack humour? Jimin and Tae being little mischief makers

word count: 2067

rating: PG, talking about sexy costumes

warnings: none

summary: Jimin and Tae have made a bet with Namjoon that they can get Yoongi to stay longer at the Halloween party this year, and you’re a key part of their plan.

a/n: my first submission for @btsholidaybingo​ under the prompt ‘Sexy Costumes’ 

Jimin and Tae greet you at the door to the dorm, mischievous smiles painted on their faces as they gather you under their arms and quickly usher you away towards Jimin’s bedroom. 

“Hey!” You cry out, trying fruitlessly to break free from their grasp but Taehyung has you firmly by the shoulders. “Let me see my boyfriend!” 

“You’ll see him soon, we promise,” Jimin smirks, Bangtan’s terrible twosome giggling between themselves at whatever they’d planned for you. Having known the boys for just over two years now, you resign yourself to following them, knowing that Jimin and Tae would get you involved in whatever scheme they had going on sooner or later. You also knew that, even if it wasn’t exactly what you’d planned for this visit, it was highly unlikely they wouldn’t have something fun planned. 

Hobi looks up from his notebook as Jimin pushes the door open, the elder having been scribbling away while sitting on his bed. He looks set to berate his dongsaengs for being too noisy while he’s writing, but his cheeks immediately rise in a smile instead when he sees you being shepherded between them. 

“Hey, y/n!” he cheers as he marks his page with his pen and sets his notebook down on the bed, jumping up to envelop you in a hug with a heart-shaped grin. “How are you? Did these two rascals grab you before you could even see Yoongi-hyung?” 

“You know they did, oppa,” you sigh with a smile, dropping your bag by his bed and wrapping your arms around his waist to return the warmth of his greeting. You hear Tae whine quietly at being called a rascal as he follows Jimin, who ignores his roommate and goes straight towards his side of the closet. “How are you, Hobi-oppa?” Hobi guides you to sit on his bed as you catch up, both of you having been too busy to catch up much over the past week or so since your last visit to the dorm. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know what they’re up to, would you?” you stage-whisper conspiratorially, looking over your shoulder towards the closet, where Jimin and Tae are murmuring between themselves. 

“Absolutely no idea,” Hobi frowns, eyes wide as he shakes his head before purposefully raising his voice, “but they’d better be quick about it if they don’t want Yoongi-hyung to find out they’ve been hiding you from him!”

“Okay, okay! We’re coming, hyung!” Jimin appears with a few packets in his arms, Tae following behind him with another two or three in his hands. It’s not until Jimin is just about to throw them onto his own bed that you realise what they are. 

“No!” Hobi jumps beside you while Jimin only laughs, his eyes hiding behind his cheeks, and Tae chuckles beside him. You stand from Hobi’s bed and level your hardest stare towards Jimin, who only laughs harder, delighted by your reaction. “I told you no, Park Jimin, what is all this?”

“Oh, come on! It’s Halloween, y/n! You have to dress up!” Jimin cries, throwing his arms up in the air as his eyes turn from crescent moons to full ones, wide and begging for your participation. Tae lazily drops his packages to join Jimin’s, grinning as he sits down on the bed and watches you and his best friend challenge each other. 

“Jin-oppa said I was exempt this year!” You fold your arms over your chest but Jimin just rolls his eyes, Hobi and Tae sharing amused glances.  

“But what about Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as a smirk pulls at his lips. It catches you off guard, but you collect yourself before you falter. 

“What about him? He won’t make me dress up if I don’t want to.”

Hobi nods almost solemnly where he still sits on his bed, knowing his hyung was hopelessly in love with you and would always put your comfort first. You feel somewhat emboldened by the silent support and raise your chin slightly to hold your ground. 

That feeling starts to ebb, however, when you see the grins spreading on your agemates’ faces. 

“He might not make you wear a costume,” Tae starts, his deep voice lifting with a playful lilt, “but I’m sure he’d definitely appreciate it if you were to wear one.” He nudges the pile on the bed and you finally turn your attention to inspecting them properly. 

Your eyes widen as you fully realise what lies before you: all of them are indeed Halloween costumes, and all of them have ‘sexy’ in the title.

You spot a very minimal Wonder Woman costume underneath a stereotypical black cat outfit - if a belted bodycon dress and a pair of cat ears could be considered enough to constitute an outfit. You barely even take in the plaid pattern on the “skirt” of the schoolgirl outfit before you’re rolling your eyes away from it. 

You can definitely see their point. Your boyfriend of just under a year would definitely appreciate any of these so-called outfits: not for any of the characters or ideas in particular, you were sure, but Jimin and Tae seemed to have gathered together a selection of costumes that paid attention to particular parts of your body; ones that happened to be some of Yoongi’s particular favourites. They all sat no lower than mid-thigh on the models (as was standard for any woman’s costume, it seemed) and were apparently intent on accentuating the waistline, a part of your body that you were self-conscious about but your boyfriend was obsessed with, often running his hands down your sides before holding onto the curve of your hips. 

You weren’t sure if you were scared or impressed that your fellow ‘95s knew so much about what Yoongi liked, especially when it came to what he liked on you. 

Hobi’s beside you before you realise, but his spluttered cough snaps you out of your daydream and sends a flaming blush burning into your cheeks. Part of you wants to walk out, find Yoongi, cuddle up with him under a blanket or two and forget about this ridiculous conversation. 

But another part of you is determined to keep your cool in front of Jimin, especially considering you’re a few months older than him. You may be agemates, and you may have been quietly delighted to be welcomed into his and Tae’s coveted friendship, but you were still determined to hold those few months over him whenever you could. You considered the costumes on the bed and the mischievous glints in the eyes of the two boys stood in front of you, a growing suspicion bubbling over into genuine curiosity.

“What do you two get out of me wearing one of these?” you asked, casually walking over and picking up the questionable feline getup, pretending the two simple items require intense inspection. Hobi makes a strangled noise of exclamation beside you, becoming witness to a conversation that, for him, only seems to get worse by the second. You look up to see Jimin’s cheeks dusted with a tinge of flustered pink, clearly not expecting your apparent interest in actually going through with wearing one of the outfits he had ordered as a joke after a conversation with Tae and Namjoon about the upcoming holiday. For a brief moment you think you see a hint of a darker glint to his eyes, but Tae speaks instead, stealing your attention. The youngest person in the room also seems to be the only one expecting you to question their motives, and also seems to be the only one who remembers how much you loathe the weird oversexualisation of pretty much anything and everything when it comes to Halloween costumes. 

“Yoongi-hyung never stays long,” he explains with a shrug, “and we have a bet with Namjoonie-hyung that we can make him stay longer this year. You’re our secret weapon.”

It’s your turn to raise a brow with a smirk. “And you think putting me in a barely-there costume is going to make him not only want to stay at the party rather than take me home, but also let all of you see me in something like this for longer than the five seconds it takes for me to walk through the door?” You throw the costume back on the bed with a laugh as the two boys’ faces drop. Hobi snickers behind you, gathering up his notebook, his phone and his headphones, presumably to go and work somewhere else and get out of this conversation. 

The younger boys look at each other, seemingly only just realising the evident flaw in their plan: if anything, putting you in a sexy costume will make Yoongi leave even sooner than he normally did. You can’t help but laugh as you try to imagine how Yoongi would have reacted to seeing you in one of these types of costumes: lingerie was one thing, and one thing he very much appreciated when you wore it, but that was for his eyes (and hands) only. Turning up in something like this would have made his possessive streak towards you even stronger, and who knows what would have happened when he’d found out Tae and Jimin were behind it. 

“If you wanted my help in making him stay to win a bet,” you say with a grin, “all you had to do was ask.” Tae’s low chuckle makes you grin, and you can just imagine that he knew this would happen. Jimin, however, is simply glad that you’re still on their side despite you dating their hyung, and cheers as he gathers up the costumes and throws them up over his head, letting them fall back on his bed like heavy, over-sized pieces of confetti. “Oppa, no word to Joonie-oppa, okay?” You spin on your heel just as Hobi starts to head towards the door you came through not five minutes ago. You see his eyes dart over to his younger bandmates, knowing that normally he’d tell his own agemate of their sneaky little plans, but when it’s you involved, he finds it hard to turn you down. 

“Fine,” he sighs with a roll of his eyes, but grins when you rush over to wrap him up in a hug with a few cries of ‘thank you’ almost squeaking on their way out past your lips as you do so. “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” he unwraps your arms from his waist and takes a few backwards steps towards the door. “Please get rid of those before I come back,” he gestures towards the packets on Jimin’s bed while sending a pointed look to his dongsaengs, who both nod their acceptance of his request. “And you,” he points to you and you shrink slightly under his gaze, “please don’t wear one of those costumes to the party,” his gaze softens and he smiles down at you as he opens the door. “You don’t need them.” 

You’re left staring at the door when it closes, mind whirring at Hobi’s comment before Jimin’s voice snaps you out of it. You turn back to face the boys both still sat on Jimin’s bed, the costumes thankfully now pushed to the floor to be thrown away later, and shake your head goodnaturedly. “I can’t believe you guys thought that would work,” you tease, walking over to pick up your bag and gesturing vaguely towards the discarded outfits.

“Well, what do you suggest then, y/n?” Jimin asks through a pout as he looks up at you from where he lies across his bed, playing insulted at your disregard for his idea. 

“Hmm,” you muse, tapping your finger against your chin, “I’m not sure.” Both boys go to protest at your lack of a better suggestion, but you cut them off with a shrug. “Looks like I’d better go and do some reconnaissance work, huh?” you smirk as you send a playful wave before practically skipping to the door. 

You leave it open in your wake as you venture off in search of Yoongi, your cheeks warming now for an entirely different reason. Yoongi might not necessarily like sexy costumes, but seeing some of the outfits had definitely reminded you about what he did like and, as you made your way towards his room, you idly wondered if he still had some of your favourites tucked away in his drawer.  

#btsholidaybingo #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts drabble #bts halloween #halloween fic #bts jimin #bts taehyung #bts hoseok #bts yoongi #park jimin #kim taehyung #jung hoseok #min yoongi #bts suga

[amphtaminedreams]

I Shopped at YesStyle So You Don’t Have To: Lookbook no.10

Hi to anyone reading,

And welcome to what I guess is my first “review” post of sorts! Which is basically an excuse for me to rave about Korean street style and ask why the fuck Seoul fashion week isn’t more of a big deal!? Though I’ve pretty much quit fast fashion over the last few months and have been getting my clothes from Depop, I did want to talk about the website YesStyle which I ordered from back in May (jfc, the fact that May was almost 4 months ago now is terrifying) and how impressed I was with their service and the clothes I received. It should go without saying from the fact that investing in someone with about 200 followers on here wouldn’t be a very good financial decision, but this isn’t a sponsored post-I just think that if you’re gonna order from anywhere, YesStyle is a good shout for those of you who, like myself, are inspired by East Asian street style. I have to give credit to the incredible Katie O, otherwise known as StealTheSpotlight on Youtube and Instagram; she’s the medium through which I’ve been introduced to the world of “k-fashion” and YesStyle in the first place. Yes, my current knowledge of k-pop doesn’t extend far past fan tendencies to flood every popular tweet with fancams of their favourite singers and girl groups (I admire the dedication), but through Katie’s content and Instagram accounts like TokyoFashion on Instagram,  I have come to the conclusion that the stylists behind these groups and Asian designers in general are owed a huge amount of credit by Western trend forecasters. If you have any Instagram account or blog recommendations with similar content please let me know! For now, I’m gonna give a run down of the pieces I ordered (most of which are still available), prices and sizing, and also a bit focussing on ethical concerns and what I could find out about their practices from my research.

DISCLAIMER: The photos used as backgrounds are mine. Yes, I’m in mourning over the fact that this time last year I was inter-railing, in case the ham-fisted insertion of touristy pics didn’t make that obvious. Remember when we could leave the country? When it didn’t feel like the world was ending? When everything didn’t seem to be going to absolute shit all at once? When there was a glimmer of hope that we wouldn’t spend the next 4 years being governed by the Conservatives here in Britain? Simpler times :-)

The Pieces

1. The Alizio V-Neck Camisole Top in White: £4.97, Size M

So, what you’re gonna get from the off here is that YesStyle’s prices seem ridiculously cheap, which is something I’ll address in the ethics section at the end of the post. For £4.97, you’d expect an ill-fitting SheIn/Zaful style number but I was so impressed by how flattering this top actually is. I was a size 8 and 32C for reference and my only complaint is that because the neckline has a slight plunge, it was a little awkward to wear with a t-shirt bra. You know, unless you’re into that cups poking out of the top kinda vibe that was a rite of passage for all British teenage girls going through puberty back in, like, 2009 when you wanted everyone to know you’d been on your first bra shopping trip to M&Co with your mum at the weekend. 

2. The Rhames High-Waist Plaid Mini Skirt in Purple: £9.12, Size M

Clueless being as iconic as it is, a plaid mini skirt is always going to be timeless and I know this is a piece I’m gonna be basing outfits around for a long time. It fit perfectly and is surprisingly good quality material; I was kind of expecting it to come in that super thin, semi-see through jersey that you get when you order from a lot of UK fast fashion sites, but a recurring feature of the clothes I picked out was that they were such good quality for the price and exactly as they appear online. I’ve found in the past that UK sites are deceptively canny with lighting and angles in that when the garment actually arrives (Boohoo in particular is a repeat offender in this regard) it’s a lot frumpier than it looks on the model. It seems to be common practice to pin back and temporarily alter the clothes during photoshoots to give the illusion that they’re a lot more fitted and structured than they actually are which ultimately just leads to disappointment when you try on the supposedly bodycon dress and resemble a sack of potatoes. Been there, done that. I worship the ground all carbs walk on but I don’t want to look like them. Should go without saying really. It’s nothing to do with size, but it’s just crappy tailoring and cutting corners on the brand’s part and that’s what irks me. I really appreciate that YesStyle has photos of “regular” people just wearing the clothes out rather than the outcomes of these overly edited, studio lit shoots that aren’t necessarily the most representative of how the garment is gonna look irl.

3. Nikiki Garter Belt: £5.59, One Size

As comfortable as garters come, I guess? I don’t have much experience with them tbh, lol. 2021 to do list, if we make it out of 2020 alive: try more garters.

4. Lucuna Floral Embroidered Cropped Cardigan in Almond: £15.61, One Size

Don’t get me wrong, this cardigan is adorable and there’s nothing misleading about the photo on the website. What I will say is that considering it only comes in one size, it’s pretty tight on the arms. I’m a size 6 right now and it’s really not like I’m ripped or anything (lol) so it’s safe to say that in terms of the Lucuna brand, their sizes come up very small. The cardigan wasn’t the only one size thing I purchased and whilst the others did fit, I think in general the fact that said “one size” is pretty much only suitable for UK sizes 4-8 is pretty shit. A few of the pieces had elasticated waistbands but in general in 2020, when we’ve come so far in the last few years with body positivity and being more inclusive of all sizes, to have a sample size that runs so small isn’t acceptable and this sizing issue is my biggest problem with the store. Though I recognise that YesStyle acts as an outlet for smaller East Asian brands (in this case Lucuna) and thus aren’t themselves responsible for the designs, more consideration should probably go into the harm that could potentially be done by stocking these supposedly “one size fits all” garments. Brandy Melville, I’m looking at you too. Your designs are cute but your lack of inclusivity is shitty.

5. Ohnana Ruffle Trim Strappy Cami Cropped Top in Purple: £5.01, Size M

I’m not as jazzed as I was about this top now it seems that everyone and their mother’s dog is selling it at an extortionate price on Depop but I will say that it’s also very flattering. Makes my strangely long torso look somewhat proportionate, which is nice. The material is pretty thin but it is for all intents and purposes a tank top and the price is reflective of that.

6. Sisyphi Plaid Shirt in Tangerine: £11.30, One Size

So the “one size” option strikes again, though this time with less vengeance-I would say this would be wearable up to size 12/14 so slightly better than with the cardigan.

7.  BBChic High-Waist Wide-Leg Jeans: £10.04, Size M

When it comes to these jeans, I only have good things to say. Like firstly, they make me feel like early 2000s Avril Lavigne AKA. my childhood icon/potential clone/queen of millennium grunge and an incarnation of Y2K fashion I can actually get behind. Secondly, they have an elasticated waistband, which is ALWAYS a good thing. Thirdly, they didn’t come up ridiculously long on me which I feared would be the case; I did wear the platform Filas with them but as you can see, it’s not like they’d be trailing over my feet even in flats. I’m somewhere between 5′3 and 5′4 for reference and usually go for petite in jeans  and trousers just to be on the safe side.

8.  HERMITAKH Ring Detail Halter Crop Top in Black: £5.15, Size M

I have only recently become a member of the itty bitty titty committee but even back when I shot this lookbook this halter actually fit! When it came to tops that necessitate going braless, I always had issues with finding pieces I didn’t feel were going to cause an unintentional free the nipple moment, but the fact that you can tie this top up at the neck and back yourself allows you to work out a fit that’s supportive for you. 

9. Puffie Lightning Print Straight-Cut Pants: £13.76, Size M

I’d wanted a pair of trousers like these for ages before I saw them on YesStyle but the ones I’d come across in the past were a bit extra for my hometown and typically cost more than they seemed to be worth. This pair lack the bulk that the original styles I came across had, which helps give them a more casual, laid back feel, though they are just as vibrant and substantial BUT there isn’t much give in them. They have the slightly baggy look I was going for however they aren’t elasticated on the waist so I recommend having a look at the guide that’s available next to the drop down box where you select the size you want.

 10. Alfie Mesh Long-Sleeve Top in Pink: £7.71, One Size

No, the Jennifer’s Body top isn’t from YesStyle, I’m sorry to disappoint. Go to RedBubble for that one! The considerably less exciting mesh top underneath however, is, and in spite of its relative mundanity (you can’t top Megan Fox as a man-eating demon) it does the job as a versatile staple piece. It’s one size but it does have a lot of stretch in it so would probably go up to about size 14 (not to say that’s great).

11. Barrash Harness Bag: £17.10, One Size

The harness vest is one of my favourite trends to come out of k-fashion and I wanted SO badly to pull this piece off (especially because it was one of the most expensive pieces I purchased from the site) but it was far too big for me even when I adjusted it and TBH...I don’t even know if it’s just the sizing? I kinda felt like a paranoid tourist with their bag on back to front and yeah...I don’t think that’s the desired effect. Here’s an example of how cool they CAN look from Seoul fashion week, and with that another example of why NYFW should lose its place in the “big 4″ to make room for SFW:

And just Blackpink just setting the standard for the utility wear trend in general:

12. Mikiko Short-Sleeved Blouse in White: £8.79, One Size

I appreciate that the website notes that the “one size” here runs small, however it does also say that a “base layer” is needed for under the shirt which I didn’t find was necessary at all. The fabric is quite thick and it genuinely looks like the kind of shirt you’d find tucked away in a vintage shop, cute af and will go with anything.

13. Closette Sleeveless V-Neck Vest in Black: £11.87, One Size

Again, I was really impressed with the quality of this jumper; it definitely looks like something you’d pick up in a uniform shop (though this one is probably cheaper because those shops are daylight fucking ROBBERY) but I can never get enough of that grungy school girl look. Blame St.Trinians. 

14. Niji Smile Pleated Plaid Skirt with Insert Shorts in Green: £9.12, Size M

This skirt might be my absolute favourite of the items I ordered on the sole basis that it comes with shorts built in underneath, like, WHY DON’T ALL MINI SKIRTS HAVE THIS!? Plus the shape and the bounce it has to it makes me feel ultra-feminine and effortlessly cute which I love. It didn’t even turn up crumpled! Which you’ve really got to admire considering half the clothes in my local H&M look like they’ve never got within 10 metres of an iron in their short lifespan. 

15. LINSI Elbow-Sleeve Print T-Shirt: £10.92, One Size

If I had to pick one more favourite piece, it would be this graphic top that I wore underneath a pink chiffon Ebay dress. It looks and fits exactly like the photos on the website and I have to restrain myself wasting a wear of it just lounging around the house because it’s also ridiculously comfy.

16. LINSI Plaid Straight-Cut Pants in Orange: Size M

These trousers are currently out of stock, however I will say that of everything I’ve ordered they’re probably the least comfy and on that basis I’m not sure if I’d buy them again. They look great and I will push myself to wear them for that reason but they’re the kind of itchy fabric that I rush to take off and swap for some pyjamas the moment I get into the house. That being said, I don’t know if this is an issue everyone will have because I am someone that is overly sensitive to fabrics so you might not even notice it, plus-stretchy waistband! Which is a plus for sure.

I was also very impressed by the accessories I ordered, which once again completely surpassed my quality expectations. Pretty much everything pictured here was under £5 apart from the shoulder bag which was closer to 10, and when you consider that the price of these is inflated at the moment because of the resurgence of the Y2K trend, this is still ridiculously cheap.

The prices are definitely a concern of mine because unfortunately, when products are this cheap there’s usually somebody being exploited down the line. Since I made this order in May, I’ve had a small slip up with a Motel Rocks order, but other than that have cut out fast fashion completely. I want to be as ethical a consumer as I can, and that’s something I considered before making this post; that being said, YesStyle, actually a Hong-Kong based company in spite of it being touted as the destination for k-fashion, was recognised as a "Caring Company" between 2014 and 2019 (I don’t think this has been updated for 2020 yet given the circumstances) by the Hong Kong Council of Social Service. From what I can find online, this award is given to Hong Kong companies that demonstrate good corporate citizenship and responsibility. Whilst this seems like reassuring information, like I said, I find it hard to believe that the production of clothes selling for these kinds of prices isn’t outsourced to low wage workers at some stage of the process. It’s a hard to know where to stand, because obviously the fast fashion industry DOES create jobs that people rely on to sustain themselves but at what point does the treatment of workers in developing countries negate the opportunities the industry provides here in the UK? “There is no ethical consumption under capitalism” and all that but shouldn’t we try to make a change where we can? I agree with the statement though at times it can come across like a deflection of individual responsibility. Plus there’s the environmental side of the debate-having to fly the garments over from the point of manufacture obviously takes a massive amount of fuel which it goes without saying is hugely detrimental to our planet. The sizing is also an issue; the average clothes size here in the UK is a 12, I believe, and yet a size medium seems to come up as about an 8. Asian sizes do tend to come up smaller in general but at the same time, if that’s the case, as an international retailer shouldn’t YesStyle at least address that somewhere on the site?

I don’t want to end on a negative note because compared to sites like Zaful, SheIn, and even UK based retailers such as Pretty Little Thing and Boohoo, YesStyle appears to be one of the better ones. The quality of their garments is incredible for the prices and I admire the transparency of having reviews for every product be so readily accessible. It’s also great to see that they have a section specifically addressing their response to the COVID-19 pandemic, AND  offer refunds to their customers for import fees. God, I don’t know why this isn’t something that more websites do? I will never forget being slapped with a £100+ invoice for a Dolls Kill (bleurgh) order I made once back in the more impulsive shopping days and all the Karen-y emails I sent back and forth. Import fees are understandable but international retailers should definitely make it clearer how these are calculated and give more of an indication of just how steep these fees might be if you’re making a large order. It almost seems disingenuous not to do so especially when said retailers most likely know that customers wouldn’t make these orders if they had an idea of what it would cost just to get access to the goods they’ve already paid for.

I won’t ramble on for much longer because there is so much important shit going on in the world right now and I don’t want to take up time that could be spent reading more valuable posts-with the shooting of Jacob Blake earlier this week, and the death of Chadwick Boseman earlier today (I can’t imagine the amount of mental and physical strength it takes to film all the movies he did back to back whilst dealing with colon cancer), the most important thing to do is listen to how black individuals are feeling and what they are thinking right now. I will keep an eye on my dashboard and retweet what I can. Thanks for reading. Even if you’re just here for the photos, I appreciate it! And I don’t know if I’ve said it before but please know that my messages are always open to anyone struggling, especially with everything that’s going on at the moment. I don’t claim to be a professional but I can always listen. Lots of love<3

Lauren x

#k-fashion #streetstyle #k-pop #fashion #fashion blog #style #style inspo #fashion review #yesstyle #stealthespotlight #blackpink

[bookworlders]

the wedding date - ch. 6

a/n: hope you enjoy! heads up the next chapter will be nsfw 

part 6 of the percabeth fake dating!au 

part 1

“Cheers!”

Piper and her bridesmaids clinked phallic shot glasses with “P GETS J’d” engraved on the sides, and each downed shots of tequila.

The interior of Cabin 10, Piper’s old cabin, had been completely redecorated by Drew and Leo that afternoon. The pink walls and vanities that littered the floor were decked out in various penius paraphernalia. The bridal party, all decked out in clubbing clothes and bridesmaid sashes, all gathered around a truly impressive array of alcohols and cocktail ingredients to pre-game Piper’s hen do.

Leo climbed on top of a pink velour ottoman, “Ahem, attention!” He clinked a hot pink penis-shaped straw against his shot glass, “Welcome to Beauty Queen’s Final Night Out—”

“Ah, ah, ah, no, Leo, that is not what we’re calling it,” Piper chimed, sucking on lime.

“Fine, Piper’s Penis Parade—”

“No.”

“Rest in Peace, Piper’s Innocen—”

“Leo.”

“Fine! Piper’s bachelorette party,” Leo grumbled, “Got an exciting night for you ladies planned. Argus is gonna drive you guys in-land to the club, you’ll dance the night away with an open bar, and he’ll drive you guys back here when you’re all thoroughly blacked out. Be mindful, though, for those in the wedding party, we have a dance lesson in the morning so go crazy, go stupid, but you have to have a functioning body in the morning.”

Even though they were just going to the one-and-only source of night life in Montauk, Annabeth looked at her friends, they looked amazing. She felt extremely good herself in a short, black bodycon dress that showed off her athletic build and her “man killer” heels from college — the alcohol in her system helped too.

As Leo rattled off the list of things to be mindful of during the night, Annabeth leaned over and began to make herself a martini.

Piper, in white jeans and a flowy, low-cut top under her sparkly white “Bride” sash, nudged Annabeth as she plopped an olive into her glass, “Hey, make me one too. A double if Leo is going to keep on talking.”

Annabeth chuckled, glancing over to Leo atop the footrest who had been joined by Drew in listing off the acceptable songs to request to the DJ. She handed Piper the martini glass.

“Thanks,” Piper muttered, throwing it back, “I am exhausted after today, but Leo insisted I have my bachelorette party tonight with everyone here.”

“Today was so fun, though,” Annabeth said, “I forgot how much I missed this place.”

“Percy looked like he was having a good time.”

“Oh? I’m glad, I was a little nervous about bringing him.”

“I could tell. But he’s great, ‘Beth, really. I’m glad you brought him,” Piper said, “I know I only met him this morning, but you guys are good together. I just sense this easiness with the two of you. He seems to make you happy”

Annabeth flushed. Percy did make her happy, “Yeah, he’s—Percy’s a good guy.”

Thalia, who was downing her second drink, piped into their conversation, “We’re talking about Percy? Yeah, Annabeth, Percy. I mean, wow. That is a hot piece of ass, right there. And I like men and women so it takes a lot to catch my eye.”

Annabeth nodded in agreement and grabbed a hard cider from the cooler just to keep from having to respond.

“I mean you always got the cute ones, didn’t you?” Thalia said, taking the cider from her and handing Annabeth her empty wine glass. “Percy, Luke...”

“Thalia—” Piper said.

“But then again, it took you years of pining after Luke for him to notice you. It’s funny how you and Percy, how long did you say, a month ago? Only? And you already brought him to us. I can see why though, he’s so goddamn attractive.

Annabeth’s face and anger flared, “Thalia—”

Thalia rambled on, “Perfect timing so you could have a wedding date because gods forbid perfect Annabeth with her perfect career and perfect life not have a perfect date, too. It was easy though, right, because all the guys fall for Annie! He’s no Luke, though.”

“Enough, Thals. She’s just drunk, ” Piper muttered to Annabeth, rolling her eyes. She could tell Piper was annoyed with her fiancé’s sister. Thankfully, Leo had finished explaining proper night club dance circle etiquette and Drew started blasting trashy pop.

Knock, knock.

“Was anyone missing?” Piper asked, counting heads around the room, “No, all five of you are here, Calypso wasn’t feeling well and Reyna’s down with the boys.”

“I’ll get it!” Thalia said, crossing the cabin to the door, a fresh glass of rosé in hand.

It was Percy.

With the tequila and wine already flowing through their veins, Piper’s bridesmaids erupted in squeals when they saw him — an expected reaction for any attractive man who happened to fall prey to a bachelorette party.

Annabeth stood from Piper’s side and met him at the door, “Hi,” she said, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

“Wow,” Percy said, seeing her short, black dress and stilettos, “You look amazing.”

“Thanks,” Annabeth smirked, this dress was a killer every time. “What are you doing here?” Annabeth was acutely aware of all the girls staring daggers at them.

“You forgot your wallet in our cabin,” Percy said, holding out her black leather wristlet.

“Oh, thank you, I didn’t even notice,” Annabeth said, taking it from him. Percy glanced over her shoulder and also noticed their audience. He waved.

“Sorry to intrude, ladies.”

“No, no!” Drew said, clambering over everyone to meet them at the door, “Have a drink with us!”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Percy said, brushing his dark curls out of his face, “I should head over, Jason invited me to join his stag night.”

“What are you guys doing?”

“Just some beers down by the lake.”

“Don’t forget board games,” Piper called from where she was lounging, “Jason will definitely insist on board games.”

“Are you heading down to the lake now, Percy?” Leo asked, “I’ll join you.”

“You’re not coming with us, Leo?” Annabeth asked.

“Please, I may be the Man of Honor, but I still want to hang with my boys. Shall we Percy?”

Percy nodded as Leo ran down the itinerary again with Drew, the acting party planner in his absence. Percy settled his hands on Annabeth’s waist, kissing her lightly on the cheek, “Be safe tonight, okay?”

Annabeth flushed from the kiss, but retorted, “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.”

“Ready, Perce?” Leo said, striding towards the door. Percy nodded.

“Bye,” Annabeth said, waving with the hand clutching her wallet, “Have fun.”

The door had barely shut before Annabeth was attacked with squeals about how attractive Percy was.

“Where the heck did you find him, Annie!” “Where can I get one?” “It’s like you bought him at a Build-a-Boy.”

“You have no idea,” Annabeth muttered.

____________

“I will trade you two ballistae for your war elephant,” Frank said, pushing a pile of chips towards Nico.

“Fat chance, Zhang,” Nico said, “We’re not letting Hannibal go for some ballistae.”

Frank and Percy and Jason had gotten on well during capture-the-flag today and invited him to come along to the bachelor party. Percy had felt a little weird crashing since he had met all these guys just this morning, but there was something about being at a summer camp that accelerated friendships — like how when you would meet a kid at the playground and be playing like you were best friends five minutes later.

They had set up a nice spread at the lake dock, beer, chips, cigars (just for show, Nico was the only one he held one in his mouth and it was unlit) and, as Piper had promised, board games. They were playing a game called Siege that Frank had brought over for Camp Jupiter. It was super complicated with lots of pieces and points and bonuses so Percy had teamed up with Frank for the first round.

Leo pulled up a folding chair to their table and handed out beers, “Who’s winning?”

Jason grinned, pushing up his glasses, “Me, who else.”

“My bad, I’m slowing Frank down,” said Percy, “I just can’t wrap my head around the objective of the ‘Octavian’ card.”

“No one ever does,” Leo chuckled, “Doesn’t matter though, Percy came by the girls’ cabin earlier. You’re winning no matter what. The ladies love you.”

Percy grabbed a handful of chips, “Shut up, Valdez.”

Jason shuffled his cards, “He’s right, Percy. You got Annabeth, that is quite the respectable feat.”

“Oh?” Percy said. He recalled Rachel always talking about her roommate during Romeo & Juliet rehearsals, and he remembered seeing her and thinking she was them most beautiful person he’d ever seen at opening night so getting to know Annabeth today had been a dream. He could tell right away she was not someone to be messed with, but it was interesting to hear about her from her childhood best friends.

The conversation had finally pulled Frank away from his card game strategizing, “Annabeth’s scary.”

Will piped up from the edge of the dock where he was strumming his guitar, “It’s true. I’ve known Annabeth since we were seven and one time she punched this one camper in the face when he tried to give her a flower.”

“She always wins capture the flag. One, because she’s an awesome battle strategist, but also because everyone’s too scared to find out what’s going to happen if she doesn’t win.”

At that moment, Reyna, Jason’s best woman, came over, “I started a bonfire if you guys want to roast hot dogs.”

“Oh, heck, yes,” Jason said, abandoning the game, “You’re the best, Rey.” Jason pecked her on the cheek. She lovingly shoved him.

Leo followed him, “Yeah, RA-RA, you are the best.” He also leaned to peck Reyna on the cheek, but she held up a hand.

“Don’t even think about it, Valdez.”

“You want to grab some hot dogs?” Percy asked Frank.

“Nah, I’m good. Still stuffed from dinner.”

“Same.”

Will and Nico also decided to stay behind at the dock with them. Nico was on his umpteenth beer and nicely settled in his chair, and Will leaned against him, still strumming a tune on his guitar.

Frank set down his cards, “How did you and Annabeth get together if I could ask?”

Percy cleared his throat, he and Annabeth had repeated the story many times today, but he still needed to be careful to keep things as vague and close to the truth as possible, “Rachel directed a show I was in, and we met at opening night.”

“I’m glad you made it past her hard exterior, not a lot of people do. She is scary, but it’s because she’s guarded.”

Percy nodded, he loved hearing more about Annabeth, “How old were you guys when you met?”

“I was sixteen, she was seventeen. Being a teenager really just is the worst, I felt all awkward and huge, but she helped me out. She cares a lot, and once she cares about you, well, let’s just say she’s a great person to have on your team. But you know that.”

“Right.” Percy had of course noticed right away that Annabeth was a guarded person, but they were so easy together. He felt a jolt of pride that he too got to experience the softer, caring side of Annabeth that really only her childhood friends experienced.

“Who’s a great person to have on your team?” Luke had wondered over from the bonfire.

Frank reddened. Percy cleared his throat, “Annabeth.”

Luke paused. “Oh, uh, yeah. She is.”

“I know,” Percy said, holding his gaze.

“Look man,” Luke said, “I’m sure someone filled you in, and I know it’s awkward—”

“Oh, I don’t feel awkward,” Percy said, “Sorry if having your ex’s new boyfriend around makes you feel awkward.”

Frank’s head ping-ponged between Luke and Percy.

Luke’s gaze hardened, “I don’t know what you’ve heard about us—”

“Yeah, man, fuck you for real,” Nico barged in, slurring his words, “You really messed up with Annabeth, that was such a dick move. Wasn’t it a dick move, babe?”

Will stood up with his guitar, and hoisted Nico up from the chair, “I think it’s time for us to go and put this one to bed before he says anything else. Come on, babe.”

Jason, Leo, and Reyna returned with a plate of roasted hot dogs and buns. “You two leaving?” Jason asked.

Will nodded, motioning to Nico slumped against his side, “It’s time.”

Percy stood, too, “I’ll go with you. Jason, thanks so much for letting me crash your party. Goodnight everyone.”

As Percy walked through camp back to Cabin 3, he let his thoughts wander to the blonde that had been on his mind since opening night of Romeo & Juliet. He was so surprised with himself when he received that call from her and immediately said yes. Truth was, he had already been planning on asking Rachel for her number. He honestly would’ve been her date to this wedding for free.

_____

Annabeth was so drunk.

She had been pissed at Thalia, and flustered by Percy so she coped by being Piper’s drinking buddy and took shots with the bride all night.

The lovely bride-to-be was currently weeping in her sister’s lap in the backseat of the car. “I just, hiccup, love Jason so much, Drew,” Piper wailed, “There’s just, like, so much love in me for that stupid, hiccup, dumb blonde.”

Drew had taken her sister-of-the-bride duties well and took care of them that night, including rounding them all up from the dance floor to bring them home at midnight. She smoothed Piper’s hair, “I know, sweetie, it’s because of mom. She really fucked us up in the love department.”

Everyone else was also in various stages of inebriation — Thalia was pouty, Hazel giggly and happily, and Annabeth was feeling brave and confident and was laser-focused on one thing — Percy. She wanted to see him and his stupid hair and stupid green eyes and stupid cute smile now. They say sober thoughts are drunken actions, and she needed some action with Percy.

The car dropped them off at the Big House, and they stumbled as a sloppy, bachelorette amoeba to Cabin 10. Drew did her best, passing out makeup wipes and finding everyone sweatshirts to trade for their alcohol and sweat soaked dresses. Soon, Piper and Hazel were snoozing and tucked into a bunk bed. Annabeth had thrown her hair into a ponytail and pulled on a camp shirt and yoga pants. She could always hold her liquor so her peak drunkenness manifested as a confident buzz.

Drew had already slipped on a matching silk pajama set, “Annie, you wanna sleep here? There’s room.”

“No thanks, I think I want to sleep in my own bed.”

Drew grinned, “Use protection, Annabeth!”

_______

Percy’s dreams always took him to the water. He was surfing. He was swimming. He was a kid splashing in the water with his mom. He was swimming with a beautiful mermaid with long, flowing blonde curls. She was getting dragged by the current and getting tangled the seaweed.

“Hey!” bubbles spewed under his mouth, “The seaweed, watch out! The seaweed—”

“Percy.”

“Percy.”

Percy woke up to Annabeth sitting on the edge of their bed,  gently nudging him awake, “Hey, Seaweed Brain.” He sat up.

“Is it time to start getting ready?” he mumbled, wiping away drool.

“No,” she grinned, “It’s like two in the morning. You were dreaming.”

“Oh, um,” Percy flushed.

Annabeth stood and held out her hand, “Come on a walk with me, I want to show you around camp.”

#mywriting #the wedding date #fake dating au #percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth #fanfiction

[sonipanda]

PSYCHED PSYCHED PSYCHED! I finally have a pair of Hipstik tights to review on the blog. I remember seeing this brand a good few years ago and I thought they looked incredible, but I never got round to getting a pair myself. Then the founder got in touch with me (and let me say what a beautiful soul she is) and asked me to review them! So here I am doing so!

I got 2 pairs sent from the company, and I cannot tell you how EXCIIIIIIIIITED I am. I will say that I am combining both pairs into this blog as they are exactly the same but is Size A and Size B – so there is just the waistband difference to them.

I will be separating Size A and B in some of the review below just so it doesn’t get too confusing as to which one I am talking about.

  About Hipstik

“It all started with a pair of scissors. One day after work, while changing into PJs, my husband and now co-founder, Jason, was baffled by the scissor cut down the front of my pantyhose. He said, “What happened there?” I said, “THEY’RE SO UNCOMFORTABLE, so I cut them in the bathroom at the office!” We had a good laugh and that pair ended up in the trash. And then I began the hunt for a comfortable pair. After years of trying on dozens of styles and brands, I had given up. The largest size was too small – the tug, pull and irritating squeeze. The waist always too high – why is control top the only style available?! What if I don’t want a control top at 10 a.m. on a Tuesday!

I knew there had to be better. That’s when I had the “light-bulb” moment. With our backgrounds in product development and marketing, we knew we could make this happen. I could bring women the tights they actually want to wear. Then, the real work started. Asking friends about their own experiences wearing hosiery. Finding a manufacturing partner. Samples. Conversations. Samples. Testing. Patenting. It became a crusade for comfort in a product category that has never been comfortable. And here we are – Hipstik is everything women have ever wanted in a pair. I have found my happy. And I truly believe Hipstik tights are so comfortable, they will make your day happier, too.

Happy Facts:

Hipstik Legwear is nationally certified Woman-Owned and women-made in the USA in North Carolina Real Simple named Hipstik a Best Product of 2018 Good Housekeeping named Hipstik one of the Best Tights of 2019 Hollywood costume designer recommends Hipstik Nude Pantyhose to make actresses’ legs look amazing The top most common words used to describe Hipstik in real customer reviews are: “LOVE” and “COMFORTABLE” Laura, Jason and their two daughters packed thousands of Hipstik orders from their guest bedroom at the launch of the company”

– taken from their website

The Spec

Colour: Black

Size: A (Pant size 2-4) / B (Pant size 6-8)

Denier: 16

Materials: 82% Nylon, 18% Spandex

Price: $34.00

Website: Hipstik – Black, Sheer Low-rise Pantyhose

My Outfit

I wanted to glam my pair up today, so I went with one of my Femme Luxe party dresses and added a pair of embellished court shoes to finish off the look. You can always change it to open toe sandals if you prefer, but I was dressing for dinner and drinks 🙂

My Deets

Dress: Femme Luxe

Tights: HipStik

Heels: Aldo

    The Review

From The Website: Black sheers are unquestionably the most essential element in every woman’s wardrobe. They go with absolutely anything while also adding a flattering, refined, elegant dimension to one’s overall look. Hipstik has taken this beloved fashion classic that never goes out of style and created truly luxurious sheer hosiery – silky and sleek, light and airy, and oh so comfy!

So whether you’re up for keeping things sophisticated a la Duchess Kate or want a trendier take – open-toed shoes with sheers is trending – slide into our gorgeous black sheers and effortlessly glide from day into evening.

Sheer – 16 denier Footed Limited wear, handle with care. Remove jewelry when getting dressed. Hipster mid to low-rise fit Stretchy lace top fits your shape without rolling or squeezing No sagging thanks to the silicone stick strip Super soft, super-microfiber 82% Nylon + 18% Spandex Made in the USA Patent-Pending

  Our sizing is revolutionary! Use the charts below. Find your height. Find your shape. (Double-check pant size.) Find your comfort!

  The Packaging: is pretty awesome for both pairs. They came in this slimline box (both of them) with the model wearing them on the front. The back goes into a lot more detail about the sizing guide and finding the right fit. It also shows the selling points at the top too! I was super impressed with this; never seen this before!

The packaging for Size B is identical, and even though it states ‘Black Sheer Footed‘ – it is the same pair as Size A. They used a different name to begin with, and as time went on, they changed it.

When you get in, you will find them neatly flat folded with no card. These do not have foot or leg shaping to them.

What I did find interesting is how their waistband just flowered out in front of me. The bands were not stuck together (like how you would see with holdups where the silicone is stuck together and you have to prise it apart) so that was interesting!

Packaging for Size A

  Packaging For Size B

  Getting Them On: so I have to say these were super easy to glide up the legs. There was plenty of stretch for me to widen around my ankles and then roll them up with ease. I did find there was enough material which ended up gathering around my top thigh, so I rolled back down and didn’t tug up as much the 2nd time to get a more even finish on the legs.

  On The Legs: well let me start off by saying LOOK HOW AMAZING MY LEGS ARE LOOKING?!?! I love that the light matte denier gives it that gorgeous classy look which you can pair up with any outfit you like!

I absolutely love this matte finish on them – this is perfect for my pins to be looking mighty spicy!

The quality of these are fantastic let me add; I hardly damaged them whilst I was in them, so I was super proud of myself there. I did notice that the inside of my dress was scratching up my top thigh which did end up leaving very faint snags on the legs, but nothing too noticeable. This was me just eyeing up my legs super close for the review.

The fit of these were amazing for my legs; I did find they had so much stretch that I didn’t know what to do with it at first. I had to roll down and roll up 2nd time around to make sure I get an even finish. And after I did that, I had the reinforced boxer brief part to think about. It was gathering so much at the top, I had to push my tights down a little without making it darker in places around the thighs. I will say once you get the perfect for for you, you shouldn’t have this problem at all.

The feel are so soft and so smooth on the legs, I adored them for hours. They aren’t the type to be gliding off one another, but just by looking at the you can see how soft they look. With it having so much stretch, you’re bound to get that velvety feel to them.

  The Toes & Ankle: I’m liking this area here, purely because they have such a good reinforced toe to them. The shade is slightly darker than the rest of the legs, but not to worry as it will still look amazing with open toe shoes. The strip isn’t that thick either, which I quite like. I have noticed on some pairs that they make it quite thin instead of covering the toes completely; not too sure why that is, but I’m certainly not complaining.

Around the toes, these have plenty of wiggle room for your toes to move and breathe during the day, and no pressure is added either. The feet and ankles have a lovely smooth fitted finish to them, with no signs of any wrinkles or ombre effect.

  The Waistband & Gusset: this is where is gets interesting – and makes the brand unique. So Hipstik have a low waistband so it doesn’t sit over your tummy but under your belly button instead. I made the mistake of pulling it higher then realising that it needs to sit low. I mean you do have the option to if you want, but you’re defeating the purpose of the tights by doing so.

Anyways these come with silicone bands around the top of them, which help to keep them in place all day. Unfortunately on both pairs, it was slightly big on me so they sat where they needed to but didn’t grip onto my skin well.

They have a gorgeous lace band which is around 2-3 inches thick and will fit flush against your skin. I will forewarn you and say make sure you check them out with bodycons or tight fitted clothing just in case the lace band shows through. I would have tested it myself if it fit a little better, but I thought I would add that in.

The gusset is made of the same material and looks super breathable too; this is perfect for those who wish to go commando and just as fine for those who want to wear underwear too.

I have done a collection of images in both Size A and Size B so you can see the sizing difference. I have to say USA sizing can be different to UK; each country has their own sizing guide which is why you will need to check and make sure that the size you get is the right one for your waist.

Apart from all that, I have to say the bands were so comfortable to be in. It hardly felt like I was wearing any to be honest. I know my Size A didn’t fit as snug as I wanted it to, but even so, I still felt ok in them, to the point I forgot they were on me. It’s super stretchy and they will conform to your size so you get a good fit.

Oh and let me also add these have reinforced boxer briefs to them, which start from the band and work it’s way down to the top thigh. I have to say this could have sat lower on my thighs as these had a lot of material to them for me, but if you get the perfect size they should fit around your top thigh instead of mid thigh.

  Waistband For Size A

  Waistband For Size B

    My Thoughts?

Besides the fact these didn’t fit me as well as I would have liked, I still would recommend them! I loved being in my pair and trying them out all dolled up. I loved the quality of them, the fit would have been perfect if it was slightly smaller and that low waistband with the silicone straps is just a perfect finish to it all!

Thank you so much Hipstik!

Hipstik Black Sheer Low-Rise Pantyhose PSYCHED PSYCHED PSYCHED! I finally have a pair of Hipstik tights to review on the blog. I remember seeing this brand a good few years ago and I thought they looked incredible, but I never got round to getting a pair myself.

[kiiruna-a]

they are seated at a bar again, the two of them, ancient souls finding the comfort in speaking to one another. she is as alluring as ever, uruha catching himself drowning in those deep eyes yet again; " miss tabitha... " the dragonborn muses, a hand sliding over to slide up her thigh's curve, palm tracing it all the way from the knee and up to her hip. " i forgot to say this when we greeted each other, but you look as mesmerizing as you did all those years ago; you've matured, beautiful."

     being back in a japan was always a liberating experience for the woman. she had spent many years here, making the island her home, building a life & making bonds. at some point, it was her plan to stay here for a long time, perhaps centuries. she hadn’t been amused for that long, however. there was more of a community for her in america. vampire society was so organized, there were wars, business, hierarchy, things that amused an aspiring monarch like her to no end. the scene in japan had many attractive things, but nothing like that.    one of the most attractive things about japan, however, was him.    she was happy to be back, basking in his attention. she had put on a dress she knew he’d like; a long bodycon dress. her neckline was high, enhancing the form of her chest without showing anything, but instead leaving all that to her completely exposed back, where her big, red dragon curved around the shape of her spine. she had put on her finest jewelry, gold hoops & gold rings, accompanied by her iconic long, blood red nails & lips. only for him. he’d be a fool not to appreciate it.    chats were exchanged, formalities turned into deeper discussions, private matters, & tabitha found herself chuckling over observations about the turns society was taking, & stupid things mortals were engaging in. white fangs peeked through dark lips as she humored herself with his words, swirling her glass ( modestly filled with something that looked like red wine ). she always found herself feeling just a little extra— relaxed, in his presence. something about him brought out a part of her she would usually not show anyone else. she laughed, flipped her hair, rolled her eyes, acting like she was sitting across of an equal. she was not the boss of him, & she didn’t have to act like she was. no, he was something completely different from her.    not only was he immensely handsome, muscles & tattoos luring her eye in, face sharp & eyes to drown in, but he came from something that was much bigger than the dirty streets of california. ancient creatures, a bloodline of dragons. knowing that still gave her goosebumps to this day. oh, how she fell for him when she thought about that. the man in front of her, a dragon. a dragon who likes beautiful things.    for a moment, she was happy being one of those beautiful things.   with his hand up her thigh, tabitha put her glas down again. a smirk made it’s way to her face, cheeks curling up & eyes narrowing as she cast him another gaze, analyzing his expression. chin slowly raises with pride, & a chunk of black, silk hair falls down from her shoulder. “ ~ you know i don’t age, uruha. “ she eventually replies, a soft chuckle slipping past her teeth. there, she leans in closer to him, her own hand dragging across the table in front of them, fingertips brushing across the wood, while keeping full eye contact with him. “ or are you saying… you can see my soul, hm? “    hand moves over, brushing just as gently against his shoulder. deep black eyes move down to watch her own hand instead of his expression, but she keeps speaking to him, now with a much lower tone. “ i’ve always been a woman who knows exactly what she wants, & i always get it. “ she muses. of course it was all white lies— she too was confused once upon a time, but it felt so long ago she could barely remember it. a lifetime ago. a girl that was the cocoon, & who is now, that is the butterfly.     “ & you… you’re as handsome as i remember you. “ are the words she then lets spill. breathing in deeply through her nose & then sighing, she continues. “ i was really glad you wanted to meet with me, you know? something about you just fills me with— “    she bites into her bottom lips, now smiling again. “ ~ do you dare guess? “

#bydur #( the l a d y ) // answers . #( finally......... FINALLY )

[noodlecupcakeswritings]

Madness is like Gravity - Chapter 6

Warnings: Language, Drinking, Drugs, A very awkward dinner, Oswald is a fucking wine Aunt, Arguing, Tension

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Chapter 6

Emerald’s P.O.V

Jerri and I had both found jobs in the next two weeks. Jerri’s being a little more on the illegal side but I didn’t mind so much. I had found myself a quiet little desk job but it would pay the bills and was giving me the normality I wanted so I couldn’t complain. Jerri had insisted that tonight we go out to celebrate at this new club that had recently opened up. It couldn’t hurt. I changed into a simple black bodycon dress and matching heels. It kinda looked like a mother/daughter duo going to a club.

We arrived around 8:30pm and Jerri headed straight to the bar to get us the first round of drinks. It was nice to let loose and not have to worry about being lectured by some control freak. No more men for now, it was good to stay single and focus on myself for a change. After the first drinks, I ordered some shots. The club was full of people, the music loud enough you had to shout to hear each other.

I checked my phone and noticed a missed text from Oswald. I opened it up and frowned. Would you like to come over tonight? Ed and I miss you. Urgh. I knew exactly what that meant. They didn’t miss me as such. Jerri noticed the frown on my face and raised an eyebrow. I showed her the text and she shook her head. “Let me text him back,” Jerri spoke. “No. I'll just ignore it.” Jerri snatched my phone from me and began texting. I tried to get my phone back from her but she dogged my various grabs. Once she was done she let me have the phone back. I dreaded to think what she had sent.

Go fuck yourselves. Great. “Don’t worry about that short little dick. You’re with me now and we don’t need his fucking money. Nor do we need anything from him anymore. You’re a free woman now,” Jerri explained. That may be true but she didn’t need to send Oswald a rude text. The last thing I needed was him to be pissed off with me. I quickly sent a text back apologizing for the last text.

Jerri came back with another round of drinks, which we quickly downed. She led me over to the dance floor as the song changed. One I actually recognized too. She's Gone Away by Nine Inch Nails. As we danced to the music I began to feel a little odd. I wasn't drunk, this was something else. I brushed it off as to drinking on an empty stomach. I'd be fine. No more drinks tonight. I continued to dance, losing myself to the music.

My stomach continued to feel worse and worse and the dull ache in my head had become a throb. I needed some water or something. I took a step over to the bar and stumbled. I righted myself before trying again. I managed to get across to the bar, my words slow and a little slurred. Thankfully the bar tender couldn’t turn down someone that just wanted water. I downed the glass quickly in the hopes of feeling better sooner rather than later.

I heard sudden loud laughter, flinching at the sound. I glanced over to find a guy dressed in black and white Arkham clothes. I frowned, what the fuck? I'd seen fanboys like him before, what kind of club was I in? I clutched my head as another wave of dizziness hit me, when i looked back over the guy was gone as if he hadn’t been there. Maybe it was just the dark lighting making me see things. Jerri was soon by my side, tugging on my arm. “You ok?” She asked. “I don’t feel so great.”

Jerri didn’t seem to hear me, “listen there’s this guy I want you to meet, he's super cool.” I groaned as Jerri dragged me away from the bar and further into the club, I thought I caught sight of another guy dressed like Jerome, this time wearing the magician suit. I looked back only again he was gone. I really had, had too much to drink. Jerri and I stopped near the back of the club and she sat us down in a booth with what I was guessing was the supposedly ‘cool guy’. His hair was dark and slicked back neatly. He wore all black except for large grey winter coat.

“Emerald meet Dwight. Dwight meet Emerald,” Jerri introduced us. Dwight smiled at me and removed his leather glove to shake my hand. I accepted the gesture, doing my best to try and keep focus. My vision was starting to blur. “Nice to meet you,” Dwight spoke, his gaze intense. I managed a ‘you too’. It felt like the room was spinning and I was gonna throw up. I couldn't do this right now. Jerri and Dwight began talking but it sounded like I was underwater, everything was muffled and distant.

I managed to get Jerri’s attention, “I need to go back to the apartment.” “Your fine, you’ve just had too much to drink.” She dismissed me and continued her conversation. I made a sound of annoyance, the sickness feeling getting worse. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the booth. I took deep breaths, focusing on just my breathing. It still did nothing to make me feel better. I leaned my head on the wall and eventually passed out.

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

I awoke in my room, in my bed. My head felt like it was going to explode and I still felt queasy. What the hell had happened last night? How much had i drank? It must have been a lot with this kind of hangover. There was a soft knock on my door and Jerri came in carrying a glass of water and a pack of tablets. “Hey, sleeping beauty, it’s gone two. You really got hammered last night,” she spoke. “Do you remember anything from last night?” “Not really, but that means we must have had a good time, right?” “I feel like something happened.”

Jerri shrugged and handed me the water and tablets. I took two and sat up. How did she seem completely fine if she couldn't remember last night? “I feel like I was drugged or something,” I said more to myself. “Really? You think someone spiked your drink?” “Yeah. I should probably go down to the hospital.” I began to think the worst. If I had been drugged which probably would have been Rufilin, what if I'd been taken advantage off as well.

Jerri frowned, “you think their gonna give a shit about you down at that place. Emerald those rich fucks in this city don’t care about people like us. Trust me when I say that nothing bad happened to you last night. I was with you the whole night and yes whilst your drink may have been spiked, nothing else happened. Look if it makes you feel better I can send some people round to ask questions at the club.” “Would you?” “Honey you know I’ll do anything to make you feel better.” I smiled softly, “thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll make you some breakfast. How does an omelette sound? Or are you going to hurl at the mere mention of food?” I made a fake hurling sound, making her laugh, “I think I’ll be able to manage.” She left my room, going to make the omelette. I hope she added plenty of bacon and cheese. I forced myself out of bed and into the shower. The warm water helped to make me feel a bit better. I changed into some comfortable clothes and dried my hair before heading into the kitchen. Jerri set down a plate of food in front of me and sat down opposite me.

I managed to eat about half of it. I didn’t want to overdo it and make myself sick. I glanced at my phone to find a text from Oswald. Please come over tonight. Ed’s insisted on bringing his girlfriend and I need someone who isn’t a complete nerd to keep me company. I snorted. Jerri looked up and I showed her the text. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Just another excuse to get you into bed,” she spoke. “I don’t think it is. I don’t see why you don’t like him. He was the one that bailed you out. he gave us this place.” “I’m grateful and all but I don’t like people that think the sun shine out their own asshole.”

I sighed, I knew it was better not to get in to an argument. I text him back. What time? “You’re not going. I mean why would you even want to go? Why would you want to see the bitch that took everything away from you?” Jerri asked. “I’m just doing Oswald a favour. He’s done so much for us, it’s the least I could do.” “Why doesn’t he get that bald freak to keep him company?” Ok now that struck a nerve, “don’t talk about Victor like that.” “Oh, please don’t start defending him as well.” “Jerri if you don’t like them that’s fine but I’m not gonna let you insult them to my face.”

I got up from my seat and headed back to my bedroom. I began to look through my wardrobe for something to wear tonight. Something that could potentially grab a certain someone’s attention…not that I was playing homewrecker at all. But she’d taken him from me, it was only fair to try and do the same. Eventually I picked out a short, off the shoulder dress that showed the right amount of leg and cleavage. And it came in his favourite colour. Green. I curled my hair and put on some makeup before slipping on my heels. My phone buzzed once more. Victor’s on his way to pick you up now

I smiled to myself and headed into the kitchen. Jerri was making herself dinner. She turned to look and me and wolf whistled. “And just a few hours ago you were recovering from a hangover,” she marvelled, “Let me guess Penguin brought that dress for you?” “Don’t start-“ “I’m not, just asking a question.” “Yes, he did, what about it?” “Nothing, just thinking to myself that Jerome would probably like it on you.”

My stomach sank at the mere mention of his name. God why did it still hurt to even think about him? It had been a year and a half since that night and in that time, I had fallen in love twice. It’s not like I was struggling to move on. Yet there was heavy feeling in my chest once more. I guess you never do get over your first love. I forced myself to smile. “He probably would,” I replied. “Well try and have fun tonight. If I get call from the GCPD telling me that you’ve murdered the bitch I’m not going to be surprised.”

My phone buzzed, showing a text from Victor letting me know he was outside. I said goodbye to Jerri and went outside. I got in the car and Victor drove back to the mansion. “I didn’t think you’d make such an effort considering the circumstances,” Victor commented. “Well considering the circumstances maybe I want her to feel uncomfortable.” Victor chuckled, “now now play nice.” I faked offence, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Once we reached the mansion, Victor parked the car and opened the door for me. I headed inside where Oswald greeted me, with a hug. I smiled, returning the hug. “Well don’t you look lovely tonight,” Oswald spoke. “You’re the third person to comment on my dress tonight. Are they already here?” “In the dining room.” “If you said I would have been sooner.” “I’ve managed.” I still felt bad that he’d been left alone with the two of them for god knows how long.

Ed stepped into the hallway and froze as he saw me, looking me up and down. I smiled to myself, tossing my hair back and walking over to him in confident strides. “So, where’s the lucky lady?” I asked. “Emerald-“ he started. I looked into the dining room to find her. She was sat by the fire in a figure hugging simple black dress. Her blonde hair was styled in a cute little updo. She looked like one of those classic Hitchcock blonde beauties. She turned to me and got to her feet to greet me.

She shook my hand and smiled wide, showing her perfect porcelain teeth. “Lovely to meet you Emerald. Eddies told me so much about you,” she spoke. “Sorry, he hasn’t actually told me your name,” I smiled back. She looked over my shoulder at Ed, her smile fading a little, “oh. I’m Isabella.” “Now that we’re all here shall we sit for dinner?” Oswald interjected. Oswald and I sat down opposite the two love birds and soon enough the first course was brought out.

“So, Emerald what is it you do?” Isabella asked me. “Well I’ve just recently started a new job in an office block. Nothing too interesting. What about you? He really hasn’t said much about you.” Her smile faded again, “I’m a librarian.” “So, you’ve read everything?” “Not quite everything, but I do like classic romance novels. Like Romeo and Juliet, Antony and Cleopatra,” she spoke in a dreamy tone, glancing at Ed. “I wouldn’t consider those romantic. I mean didn’t they both end in tragedy,” I held back a wicked smirk. She might fucking end in tragedy if she wasn’t careful. Ed cleared his throat and attempted to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Instead we ate in silence. Once we were all finished and waiting for the main I thought of another topic. “So, Isabella, doesn’t it make you uncomfortable to be the only one who hasn’t been to Arkham Asylum. The only one here who hasn’t killed someone,” I spoke. “Emerald, we don’t have to talk about that,” Ed cut in, glaring at me. “Why? Haven’t you told her?” “Told me what?” She asked. “Stop it!” He snapped.

Oswald was smirking in amusement before taking a sip from his wine. “I want to know,” Isabella spoke. “Well I suppose I have to tell you now. Ed went to Arkham for murdering his ex-girlfriend who looks an awful lot like you. All you’d have to do is dye your hair strawberry blonde and put on some glasses and it would be like seeing a ghost,” I explained. Ed was gripping his wine glass so hard that I’m surprised it hadn’t shattered yet. Various emotions flashed across Isabella’s face. I decided to ‘lighten the mood’. “Hey, it’s not as bad as some of the things Oswald and I have done. We’re probably the more dangerous people at this table,” I smiled.

The second course arrived and we ate in silence. Only small talk was made. Until the third and final course. Isabella had continued to glance at me throughout the main course as if she were trying to read me like one of her romance novels. “I know where I recognise you from now other than Oswald’s mayor campaign,” she spoke. “The news, the papers?” “Yes, weren’t you one of the people that held the children’s hospital charity gala hostage? Along with the other blonde…Barbara Kean and…wasn’t it Jerome Valeska?” Of course, most of my non-Oswald related public appearances would be alongside Jerome. God why was everyone having to bring him up tonight?

“I was,” I spoke, less confidence in my voice, “excuse me.” I got up from my chair and left the dining room. I was not breaking down in front of that bitch. I leant against the wall and took a deep breath to stop myself from crying. I heard footsteps come after me. Probably Oswald to see if I was ok. I turned to see Ed instead. He didn’t look like he was in the mood to comfort me either. Once he was close enough to talk to me in angry hushed whispers, he pushed me against the wall hard.

“Are you trying to ruin my relationship with Isabella because your still bitter?” He hissed. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just telling her the truth. Maybe I should tell her how you didn’t even bother to actually break up with me first before getting with her.” “You told me that you were ok-“ “And I was fucking lying to get you away from me. I couldn’t stand to be around you. I’m still hurting and I’m going to be for a while, don’t you dare expect me to just get over it.” His grip on my shoulders loosened a little, “you still didn’t need to tell her those things.” “Well look at it this way. She hasn’t run out of here screaming for help. You’ve got yourself a keeper.”

I shoved him back and headed for the door. I grabbed my coat from the coat rack and quickly put it on, fastening the buttons. “Emerald,” Ed called after me. I sighed and rolled my eyes before turning back to face him, “what?” “I still care about you.” I felt my shoulders slump at his words. Why? Why the fuck did he have to say that? I felt like screaming at him. Talk about toying with my emotions. Asshole.

Taglist: @my-world-of-imagines, @belathora, @edweirdoddlepot

#gotham #gotham fic #gotham fanfic #gotham fanfiction #gotham smut #gotham feels #gotham fluff #gotham angst #edward nygma #edward nygma fic #edward nygma fanfic #edward nygma fanfiction #edward nygma smut #edward nygma feels #edward nygma angst #edward nygma fluff

[the-first-date]

A conversation with Emma Zack [27/F/Brooklyn]

Madge Maril: Hello Emma!! Thank you for joining me on gchat this lovely evening. What are you up to today?

Emma Zack: HEY DARLIN! I'm here at my desk, doing my job. You know, the usual.

MM: Yes! Usual. What's your job?

EZ: Suppose you could say I have two! My day job (9-5) is as the publications manager at the Innocence Project. My other job, which only recently turned into another full-time job, is being the owner of a plus-sized vintage shop, Berriez!

MM: Well now I have to ask how you got into both.

EZ: Haha. Do it.

MM: How did you get into these two very different positions?

EZ: I'll start with the Innocence Project. I've studied prisons/criminology since I was a freshman in college. I worked in prisons/in the criminal justice sphere in college, and after college, decided that I wanted to continue on this path. I got a job at the Innocence Program in Boston, which then led me to the Innocence Project in NYC! And as for Berriez, I started it because I needed a hobby. I was (and still am tbh) really depressed, and needed something to get my mind smiling. Also, I had a bunch of clothing. Also also, I was shopping vintage online often and was never finding my size. So, all of those factors led me to start Berriez!

MM: So many questions — but maybe the weirdest one first. So you're from Boston, and now you live in NYC. What's that experience like? Do you feel like a cool New Yorker? I've heard that's a feeling.

EZ: Lol!! Quite the opposite, really. I oftentimes feel like a loser. I am a homebody and rarely leave the house, unlike most New Yorkers. Also, I move at a very slow pace, and New York is so. Freakin. Fast. It's hard to keep up. But, I will say that it's 854930574389574 times better than boring ole Boston!

MM: I've also heard about this fast pace. But honestly I don't think I know what it means? Is it more just how busy people are? 

EZ: It's the strangest thing. Since I moved to New York, I've developed insomnia, am bad at responding to texts/keeping in touch with people (which I used to be so good at before NYC), and seeing people — even my best friends — is hard because everyone is just so "busy." Not sure what we're all doing, but all I know is that we're busy. Also, let's talk about how everyone here walks fast. I truly can't keep up. I walk so slow, and people make fun of me for it all the time… like, let a girl walk at her own pace!

MM: Hahaha that's really all I've ever connected in my brain before when I've heard about New Yorkers pace — like a literal fast walking pace. 

EZ: It's true!

MM: And I know you have a ~ partner. Did y'all meet in Boston or NYC?

EZ: Nope, we met here in NYC!

MM: What was that like? Do you think the NYC climate of fast-paced energy affected it at all? 

EZ: What was meeting my partner in NYC like?

MM: Yeah! It seems so idyllic to me, a midwesterner, while also seeming like it could be intense with how busy people are.

EZ: Oh yeah, it really just kind of happened. And I met him only a month after I moved here! It was so unplanned. When we met, I knew there was something there, something special. I wouldn't say it was NYC though — I'd say it was the ~universe~ and the timing of it all meeting each other at certain points in our lives where we could commit to each other, etc.

MM: So do you believe in fate?

EZ: Lol, no.

MM: Hahahaha.

EZ: But I believe that everything happens for a reason? Bad or good? Is that fate? I don't think so. I also don't believe in "1 tru luv.”

MM: I don't think I do either! Though I really did as a kid. Like X Files... I want to believe.

EZ: Totally… I did too! But not anymore, even though I love my partner so much. And want to stay with him.

MM: I think those two things can co exist, because same for me with mine — a love, but also realizing that there have been other people, and could be other people, and that you're actively choosing this one person right now though.

EZ: Exactly!

MM: Also while I am extremely enjoying this I can feel the unseen reader wanting me to ask you about Berriez. 

EZ: Of course, of course. Lemme hear the questions!

MM: Where to begin! You mentioned a lot that I want to know more about — starting a business (can't imagine), starting a business with depression, online vintage, plus-size vintage. Can you tell me more about any of those things, whatever you want to tell me about?

EZ: Hmmmmmm. Well, I suppose when I started Berriez (formerly known as Fruity Looms), I didn't intend for it to be a "Business.” Or, rather, I didn't think of it as a business. I just thought of it as something I was doing in my free time with my friends (who would model for me).

MM: RIP Fruity Looms.

EZ: RIP FRUITY LOOMS 💔. It started to take off about 4 months in I'd say, that's when it started to get a bit more busy. Then, over the summer, it truly turned into a "business"/full-time job… it's still something I do in my free time, but it's no longer a hobby per se. It's a job. I still love it with all my heart! It's just a lot more work than when I started.

MM: I was about to ask — that can be hard, right? Turning a passion project into a job. I feel like it's not something that's talked about a lot, and people really idealize creatives who get to work in their own creative fields — especially fashion because glamour! Glam! But then there's this unspoken weight where you've morphed something you love into your "Career.”

EZ: Yup!! It's very weird, and I'm in this strange place where I really don't know what I'm doing or what I want to do, because I've done criminal justice work for so long, and Berriez really just popped in out of nowhere… do I want to take that risk? Leaving criminal justice to pursue Berriez full-time? I don't know! I suppose I could always go back. It doesn't seem reliable to me. It's scary.

MM: Why? 

EZ: Well... money, for starters! And I work well having a set schedule. Wake up at 6 to work on Berriez, go to my other job, come home to work on Berriez. If I didn't have my other job, would it be hard for me to fill that time? Would I be strict enough with myself? Also, when I don't have structure, I fall into a depression. Although, shit, I'm depressed now and I have all the structure in the world! Also side note: not glamorizing this busy NYC lifestyle. It is not fun. It is not healthy. Wow, am I talking too much? It's like you're my therapist or something. Lemme take a step back, ha!

MM: Omg no. I love it! Please talk about this as much as you like. I think it's all important, especially the reality that goes on behind the Instagram screen (poetry, I know). Because real talk when I first met you online, I was like wow! Look at her! Doing it all! Fashion! Rising star! It's so easy to project those sort of things online.

EZ: Yep, yep. Instagram is a ~facade~ amiright?!?! Lmaoooo!! In reality... I'm just a homebody/stoner/depressed/anxious/chronically ill/loving gal.

MM: Which is so much better! And realer! Is it odd to interact with so many people in Berriez and also the Innocence Project that are sort of living that facade, do-it-all life? I feel like fashion and law may have close ties; it's all very ~chic~ non?

EZ: YES YES YES. Everyone's just trying to do it all and take care of themselves. But who are we doing it all for? That's what I've been asking myself lately.

MM: Do you feel like this intensity affects your style, and how you dress at work or on Instagram (your other work)? 

EZ: Interesting question. I've never thought about it that way. I feel like Berriez has really really really helped me ~find my style~ which is like, middle school art teacher... Lol. Lots of color, lots of fun, lots of patterns. 

I'm a bigger gal, but I don't give a fuck if something isn't "flattering" per se. I come to my day job at the IP dressed like this too, since we don't have a dress code. And I am always getting compliments from my coworkers! Although they may think I'm a little nutty. Today I am wearing space buns, a red and white checkered long sleeve shirt, rhinestone hoops, vintage Levi’s, and these funny looking boots. Oh well. Did that answer your question at all? Ha.

MM: Yes!! Were you surprised when your own personal aesthetic caught on online via Berriez? Not because it's ~weird~ (to me... It is perfect) but because I'd personally find it so nice/scary/surprising if the style I'd curated, my look, resonated with people like yours does.

EZ: I guess, like, I never thought of myself as having an "aesthetic." I've kind of just always worn what I wanted to/who I've been inspired by. My friends though have always told me that I have great style and encouraged me to start a public Instagram for my outfits, but I've always been too shy. With Berriez, I can do that without showing my face!

MM: Aw, that is so sweet. And so what does Emma Zack, stylish person, wear on a first date? 

EZ: Hahahaha! I can tell you exactly what I wore on my first date with Aja. Which was three years ago, by the way! I would never wear this now. I wore tan Clarks, black opaque tights, a hunter green bodycon turtleneck midi dress (that really accentuated my curves), and a black bomber jacket. My goal was to show off my body in a modest way!

MM: Sensible. Sexy. So this would've been 2016?

EZ: Yep! Today... Hmm. I would probably still wear something to show off my body. I love my curves.

MM: Oh I'm a big show-off-on-the-first-date person. I wore the tiniest black dress on my first date with my bf. And it was also a turtleneck! I am just now realizing. I felt like it gave me that "I read books" vibe. 

EZ: Hahaha, yup! Lol. For me it was, "I listen to jazz."

MM:: Yes! Because you're a jazz singer, right? Also would love to hear about your perfume/makeup combo if you remember it! 

EZ: Yup! I sing jazz! That used to be my hobby, until I moved to New York and convinced myself that I wasn't good enough! Ha ha ha. Oh yes, I definitely remember it. I don't wear much makeup in general, so I was wearing mascara, concealer under my eyes, and maybe some chapstick! As for perfume, I was wearing Cannabis Santal by Fresh.

MM: What comes first for you, outfit or makeup or perfume? 

EZ: Outfit, always! Makeup, I don't know how to put on makeup, so I always just wear the same thing. Perfume, I rotate between the same three perfumes (that are all musky).

MM: Which are?

EZ: The cannabis one, and then these two perfume oils that I can't remember the names of.

MM: Haha it's ok! I live for musk. This is maybe tangentially related but it's where my brain is going... How do you stay authentic to yourself? I feel like as soon as I started working in fashion, I had this huge feeling of shame, that I wasn't dressing right or knew the right stuff. Do you feel that? How do you defeat it? 

EZ: I guess I don't feel it because I don't feel like I work in fashion? I mean, I suppose I do work in "fashion" or whatever, but the stakes aren't as high as working at a magazine or a blog or whatever! I just wear what I like at this point. Or what I feel like wearing! 

And, as I've gotten older and more comfortable with myself, I've started to give less of a shit about what other people think of me or the way I dress. Don't get me wrong though, sometimes I'm totally like, do I look insane??? If I go to an event dressed like this, will I fit in?!

MM: Yes! Those are my main feelings, as someone who used to wear a ton of color and print and has been shying away from it.

EZ: Meh. Sometimes I feel like Berriez to be more minimal, and I need to sell more earth tones and plain shit like most vintage shops do. But that's just not me, that's never been me. I'm a straight-up maximalist hahahaha! That's not who Berriez is or why people like it!

MM: I really admire that about you! And your business! And that you have a business, haha. 

EZ: Lol at me having a business.

MM: You do! You truly do!! Final question, since I know we've been chatting for a minute — how was your last first date? 

EZ: Welp, it was in a dark bar, and it was with a cute dude who I'm still with to this day! So, I guess you could say it was a good one. 😉

MM: Ooooooo I would say so! Thank you so much for talking to me about so many things. Do you have any digital spaces you want to shout out?

EZ: Of course!! Thank you for asking me to talk!! I'm honored!!  No, just @shopberriez!!! 😉❤

MM: You heard it hear first folks. Go follow the shop. Here*. Wow. Ok. 

EZ: LOLOL!a

#style #the first date

[fitpaprika-blog]

Trying

Over the past two weeks, I wrote a blog post in my phone that, in the end, was four pages long. It started in one mental place and ended in another. It was rambling and confusing. Basically, I was, as they say, “in my feelings,” and feeling kind of lost on my healthy journey I have going here. I’m going to sum up some of the things I wrote and then share my conclusion.

 1. I started off by writing, once more, about how maybe I could just be happy at the weight I am now. Y’all. If I’m still thinking about happiness in terms of my weight then I’m not going to be happy at the weight I am now, tomorrow, yesterday, ten years ago, or ten years from now. Damn. You would think I could get that through my thick skull one of these days.

2. So that led into me writing about body positivity once again

3. Then I wrote the following: “One thought I keep having is that I exercise more and eat healthier than most people I know, yet I also am more overweight than most people I know. And that’s not fair.” My Lord. My mother has been telling me my entire life, “Fair comes once/year and most of the time it rains.” That’s Southern for, “Life isn’t fair.” It’s not fair. This is something my husband says all the time. He is frustrated for me at this point because he is the closest to me and, therefore, sees how hard I work. He doesn’t understand why I’m not losing weight. The fact of it is - I just have to try harder than the average person. My body clings to weight and doesn’t let it go. It isn’t fair, but it’s the facts, and both of us need to accept that and move on.

4. The real question I was trying to answer in my rambling post was - am I trying hard enough?

When I originally wrote all of this, I wasn’t sure. Then I stepped on the scale this morning. Listen, no, the measure of success and the measure of happiness is not in that stupid scale. I will continue to preach it and continue to work it into my own mind. But if I weigh 50lbs more this morning than I did only four years ago...if it has been six years since I started my journey, and I have gained back 50lbs...if I am no longer at a weight where I feel comfortable and at peace….it’s time to do something about it that is much more serious.

I weighed 240.6lbs. What does this number mean? It means that somehow I gained back 7lbs this month (?!). It means that I am 15lbs away from the weight that I was steady at for so long and felt reasonably comfortable at. It means I am only 35lbs away from the weight that started it all. It means my net weight loss for the entire year, after five months, is only 3.6lbs.

I honestly almost did not share this number with you all. I am crying right now as I type this because I am embarrassed, frustrated, ashamed. This number does not define me. This number does not mean everything. This number does not reflect that I have gone to the gym for four days per week for eight fucking straight weeks in a row. This number does not reflect that I went to almost all of the dance classes I mentally dedicated myself to go going to this month (11 of 13). This number does not reflect all of the healthy food prep that I did this month, the number of times I made healthy choices nor the new foods that I tried.

What does it reflect? Well, at first I was typing out the sentence that it reflects the times that I failed. But to be completely truthful, I almost never binged or ate out of emotions this month. That happened maybe 2-3 times. The other times when I ate something unhealthy? I consciously made that choice and most of those times were in celebration. My mother turned 60. Two coworkers I enjoyed left my place of employment. We had Staff Retreat. And so on. How is that failing? To have a cookie from a batch a departing coworker made for us? How is that failing?

I was truly surprised to see that number on the scale this morning, and it instantly made me feel panicked because it was such a large gain and ashamed because clearly I had spent my time this month even worse than I thought. I expected the number to stay the same, as it has this whole year. I’ve been right around 233.6 for the majority of the year and, considering I did not think I ate any worse this month than any of those other months, I was surprised and disappointed. And panicked.

So the question I had been trying to answer as I crafted this blog post - am I trying hard enough? Well, clearly, the answer is no. The scale is not the measure of success, but it is a measurement that shows that I need to rein it back in on the food - even if only to experiment. What happens if I am hyper aware of my nutrition and I know that the math should add up and it doesn’t? Because I’ve been doing murky math this month. I didn’t measure every bite of food, but I’ve been conscious of my choices. And I’m not entirely sure what it all went wrong. What if I do the math and my weight doesn’t change or, worse, I face another gain? Then something else is going on.

My bloodwork did come back yesterday and the levels she checked were all normal except my B12 was “low-normal” so she is recommending that I take a supplement, as that could be causing fatigue. But I’m not satisfied with that answer, so I wrote her and said basically, “Okay what are some other next steps?” I don’t think that just taking a B12 is going to solve the problems that I presented to her.

The question - Am I trying hard enough?

Am I doing everything I can? Or am I not doing enough? As Oprah would say, what is the truth?

I think it’s both. I am doing more than the average person is doing to be healthy. I am putting in the most effort that I feel like I can put in most days, sometimes more, though someone could certainly look at that effort and judge it as not good enough, which I often do. The reality is that every person’s body is different. My body clings to the weight and holds on to it for dear life, even when I am trying so hard to get it to let go. What that means for me is that I have to try harder than the people around me, the people on instagram, etc. Not to mention that I don’t really know how hard they are trying. From the outside looking in, it appears that they eat kale at every meal, workout multiple times per day, never have a cookie, never give in to treats, never mentally struggle with their healthy efforts and their self esteem. I know that none of that is true, but it’s hard to remember that when these are the images that come across my face all day everyday. I have to remember that when I think about “trying harder” I should be thinking about trying harder than May Meaghan. Not trying harder than some unattainable Instagram person. I need to only compare myself to myself.

We are all different. I have been feeling like I’m letting people down, including myself, because my weight hadn’t changed since January 28th and now I’ve had this major gain. But I’ve been told that continuing to share is beneficial to others  in and of itself. And as I reflect more on it - I’m really just giving you another example of what it’s like for someone to try to lose weight. I have three thought processes going on.

One part of me thinks, “I’m doing all that I feel like I can, that I want to do, and it’s not working, and it’s not fair because no one else is struggling like this, in fact some people are losing weight or staying the same while eating potato chips everyday, so I’ll just stay fat forever because fuck it.”

And then another part of me thinks, “It’s not fair, but that’s life. Try harder. Do better.”

And then another part of me thinks, “But I’m healthy and happy with my life, just uncomfortable with my body. Shouldn’t I just focus on creating a better body image and not worry so much about changing my actual body?”

That first part of me is the depressed part, the struggling the part, the part that is at the front of my brain, and I need to let it go. That is the part that is comparing myself to everyone else, people I don’t even know, people who don’t matter, and it’s not good. Whether I decide to continue to try to make the scale move should not be dependent upon what other people are doing or not doing. The choices I make to become healthier should only be about myself.

As for the other two parts - well, I think they’re both right. I need to work on a better body image regardless of weight loss. There was a time when I was wearing anything I wanted to wear, enjoying fashion again, appreciating my curves, and somewhere along the line of gaining back these 50lbs, I lost it. I’ve become insecure again, like I was at my heaviest, and that, in many ways, scares me more than gaining the weight back. I was so unhappy with my life when I weighed 275lbs, and it had actually almost nothing to do with my weight. My weight was a reflection of the other issues going on at that time. I completely lost myself, and in the six years since then, I have struggled as much to get that person back as I have to lose the pounds. I don’t want to give up on that fight. I need to wear shorts in public. I need to wear bodycon dresses. I need to wear big prints. And none of it has to do with my weight - wearing clothes that I’m “not supposed to wear” makes me feel like I’m giving the middle finger to fatphobia. It gives me confidence in other areas of my life. It makes me feel like I’m not an outcast because of my weight. I need all of those feelings back.

But...well...I still want to lose weight. I’ve written enough about this dichotomy of my brain in the past. How do you learn to love your body while trying to change it. I don’t fucking know. That’s what the heart of this blog is, I guess. But, anyway, if I want to lose weight, I honestly just need to buckle down and do it. So what if it is harder for me than it is for others around me? Then it’s harder. School was the same way. I was in all of these honors and AP classes with these super smart kids, and somehow they just learned. They didn’t necessarily need to study their asses off or write and rewrite drafts of papers or practice presentations. They sat in class, they learned the material, and they could spit it back out and sound intelligent doing it. That wasn’t me. I had to study. I had to practice. I had to rewrite. Did I get the same grades or better? Yes. I graduated ninth in my class of 350+ high-school students. But I had to work for it. It was the same in college. Did I graduate summa cum laude with a 3.9 GPA? Yes. But it was hard. And I tell y’all - I wanted to be valedictorian of my high-school class. I wanted to finish college with a 4.0. I am a perfectionist, and my best has never been good enough for me. I still tell people, probably much to their annoyance, that I only made four B’s in college. Four B’s. I took 45 classes for credit in college, I completed both the University Honors Program and the honors program for the English department, and I finished with two degrees in the four years with only one summer semester of class, but I’m sitting over here thinking about the four B’s I got.

As stupid as that is, I need to think about weight loss the way that I thought about school. I didn’t sit around and complain that other people were out partying while I was studying, did I? No, I just studied. And those four B’s and some of my A-’s are because sometimes I was out having fun, not gonna lie. I found a sort of balance in both high-school and college, and I didn’t just say, “Well, fuck it, I’m having to work harder than everyone else, and I still got a B last semester, so I’m just going to throw in the towel.” I just kept going and working as hard as I could, and I still graduated with top grades.

So that’s where I’m going to go with weight loss. What I’m doing isn’t working, so let me find something that does. Let me work as hard as I can at it and see where it gets me. I’m not going to be perfect at this, but I can at least give it my best shot instead of sitting around thinking, “Woe is me, it isn’t fair.” And, at the same time, I need to get my groove back. Nobody ever got anywhere in life if they didn’t feel like they could wear shorts in the summer if they felt like it.

#weight loss #losing weight #healthy #healthy journey #weight loss journey #the scale #body positivity #trying #goals

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Charles Jeffrey and the designers transforming fashion for a post-gender world | Fashion

The fashion designer Charles Jeffrey is wearing a kilt when I meet him. Granted, he’s Scottish – the 28-year-old grew up in Glasgow – but this is less about nationalism and more about what fans of RuPaul’s Drag Race will know as a “lewk”. The kilt is combined with an oversized leather jacket, chambray shirt, beret, striped football socks and paint-splattered boots held together with bright yellow electrical tape. On his Botticelli-ish face, Jeffrey has added two carefully positioned beauty spots with a kohl pencil. The overall effect is striking. It will provoke some quizzical glances from the ice-skating tourists at Somerset House in London, where Jeffrey’s studio is.

Since launching his label, Loverboy, in 2015, the designer has quickly become a poster boy for catwalk fashion that flouts gender norms, though he probably wouldn’t describe himself as such. Unisex fashion was retail’s answer to the increasingly loud debate over how we identify in terms of sexuality and gender – it was seen in Selfridges’ 2015 Agender unisex pop-up, and is now mainstream, with John Lewis recently making its childrenswear gender neutral. Jeffrey’s work is the flipside of this idea. Instead of discounting gender in fashion, taking away the gender constructs, it plays with them. He uses designs traditionally worn by a man (a suit, say) or a woman (a dress), and makes it a free-for-all, do-what-you-feel, dressing-up box.

Jeffrey’s Loverboy show at London fashion week men’s earlier this month. Composite: Rex Features

He is joined by other designers working in the same area, such as Edward Crutchley, who puts men in crinolines, and the Art School duo who put men on the catwalk in bodycon dresses. They all show their collections at the twice-yearly menswear showcase London fashion week men’s, which took place last weekend.

Jeffrey, though, is the star of this cohort. For his spring/summer 2018 show, the Loverboy label featured a man in a miniskirt and a woman in a striped trouser suit. It closed with a man in a floor-length wedding dress covered in childlike drawings. It didn’t – as it might have a few years ago, when streetwear dominated the men’s shows – prompt scepticism and sighs on the front row. Instead, it was rightly lauded as one of the best shows of the season and scored Jeffrey the emerging talent award at the Fashion awards in London in December. He collected the award from his hero, John Galliano, in a full face of makeup, including painted-on kiss curls.

Jeffrey followed his triumph with another this month. During the latest London fashion week men’s, he showed “Tantrum”, a blistering howl of a show that, in staging at least, recalled Alexander McQueen at his best. It began with a series of young men and women, painted white, running on to the catwalk and screaming at the front row. They then sat down at tables dotted in the venue and heckled models – including Faris Badwan from the Horrors – while swigging wine. Afterwards, Jeffrey told reporters that the collection was partly inspired by Alan Downs’ 2005 book The Velvet Rage, about growing up gay. “It’s about accepting anger and utilising it,” he said. “This is the first time I wanted to explore that particular emotion. It’s always been so joyous and fancy-free but there is a dark side to that, too, so I think it’s good to explore that.”

In 2015, a survey found that half of people aged 18-34 believe that gender exists on a spectrum and shouldn’t be limited to either male or female. Jeffrey is part of that generation refusing to define itself in binary terms. He believes “gender is like an idea” and “there’s this whole perception of how a man can look and a woman can look – and it’s such an interesting place to explore”. Jeffrey’s take on fashion and gender is playful and permissive – gender roles are something to be tried on, depending on how one feels that day. As such, it’s ignoring the signifiers of gender that clothing has provided for centuries. It’s disruptive. A man in a ballgown walking down a catwalk is like a Shakespearean heroine masquerading as a man – it’s carnivalesque, a cheeky “up yours” to the status quo. In fact, Jeffrey, in a truly millennial way, describes any discussion of gender as “a bit of an eye roll”.

Backstage at the London fashion week men’s Edward Crutchley show. Photograph: Tolga Akmen/EPA

He calls his career “a journey of my own identity”, one that began with Central Saint Martins’ infamously forthright tutor Louise Wilson, who died in 2014. “One day, she sat me down and I had all my drawings. I had a dress on, this big felt T-shirt and these weird shoes, and she was basically shouting at me: ‘Your work doesn’t make any sense!’” Wilson – who had also tutored Alexander McQueen and Christopher Kane – advised Jeffrey to examine his own dress sense and to take photographs of his outfits. These images, and this process, still form the basis of Loverboy, three years after he graduated.

This is a movement where the personal is the political – with Jeffrey’s kilt a perfect example. He tells a story of being on the metro in Paris. “I was wearing this Givenchy kilt skirt thing and these two guys started ripping the piss out of me … I ended up saying to them: ‘Vetements national … my heritage … I’m Scottish,’” he says. “They were like, ‘Oh, it’s a kilt. You’re not gay … it’s fine, then.’ I had to pretend not to be gay so I wouldn’t get harassed and I just remember thinking: ‘It’s so crazy,’ because as soon as they realised it was a kilt, their perception of it changed. Because [a kilt] is grounded in masculinity.”

Jeffrey has experimented with his image since his teens – and is well-versed in coping with other people’s reactions. He recalls getting punched at the age of 15 because he had dyed his hair orange. He worked out that he could survive – thrive, even – by finding a scene of like-minded people, first with an emo phase, and later in clubs in London. “What we do now feels like that for other people. One girl I met in Paris was dressed very normally,” he says. “She was shaking and she gave me this letter saying: ‘I have been able to come out because of your brand.’ I see her on Instagram now and she has shaved her head. She’s got that validation and she’s able to express herself.”

Finding a community where your identity is accepted and celebrated is an idea that would chime with Eden Loweth. He designs for his label, Art School, with his partner Tom Barratt who, says Loweth, “identifies as transgender, male to female”. For their show last Sunday, the two 24-year-olds included trans models and men in makeup on the catwalk. The trans model Munroe Bergdorf – who found herself in the limelight last year when she was hired by L’Oréal and then sacked for expressing strong opinions – sat in the front row wearing their clothes. Loweth says the brand is designed to appeal to their friends and those like them. “A lot of our friends wear mostly secondhand clothes because they can’t achieve their identity with clothes that are new and on the market now,” he says. “In the society we live in, it’s becoming increasingly hard for young people to have a voice. A lot of people channel that through what they wear; an expression of themselves.”

Art School on the catwalk at London fashion week men’s. Composite: Rex Features

The place where this self-expression was honed – for Jeffrey anyway – wasn’t just the studios of Central Saint Martins, but the club scene of London. Loverboy shares its name with the night that Jeffrey set up in 2015, first to help finance him through college, but later to explore his ideas in a curated space. It ran for just a year, but provided – along with Jeffrey’s rent money – the fertile soil for his ideas to grow in. He describes clubs as “a safe space to think, feel, be, see and present yourself. It’s the ideal place to pull a look. You can pull a look when you go to a restaurant, but you’re not really enjoying that look as much.” Does he still go out a lot? Jeffrey tries to cover his smirk and then cracks. “Hmm … yes, I do. There’s a whole rave scene happening. My friend has a contact; they’ll send him a message when there’s a rave. It’s amazing.”

The writer and model Niall Underwood, who studied with Jeffrey, is a muse for the designer and regularly wears his designs. He calls Loverboy clothes for “a post-gender world” and says he enjoys wearing them because of how inclusive they are for those in his milieu: “I’m a cisgender man who dresses up in makeup, but some of our friends are more femme and they can wear Charles, too.” Underwood believes the club setting and community of creative people is vital. “We are all the odds and ends of different family backgrounds who ended up united in a London nightclub,” he says. “That’s not a new concept, but that doesn’t mean it’s invalid.”

As Underwood says, the club as a permissive place to explore self-expression and play with gender norms isn’t a new idea (nor is men wearing clothes designed for women – Jean Paul Gaultier, Vivienne Westwood and JW Anderson have all played with this idea). Alistair O’Neill, reader in fashion history at Central Saint Martins, sees Jeffrey and his cohort in the tradition established in London since the late 60s. He namechecks David Hockney’s Notting Hill set, the scene around Roxy Music in the 70s and the clubs Blitz, Taboo and Kinky Gerlinky in the 80s – where Galliano, Westwood and Rachel Auburn, along with performance artist Leigh Bowery, were clientele. “Clubs can become the breeding ground for creativity,” says O’Neill. “Barry Miles called the dancefloor the R&D department of Central Saint Martins. These designs weren’t being sketched, they were being worn to a nightclub.”

Jeffrey’s Loverboy show on the catwalk for London fashion week men’s SS18. Photograph: Stuart C Wilson/Getty Images

O’Neill is careful about connecting what Jeffrey and friends are doing to “LGBTQ visibility and new debates about gender identity”. Instead, he emphasises the playfulness of this group of designers – one that marks them out from the genderless trend that came before it. “This is quite different,” he says. “This is not about daywear, it’s about a new kind of evening wear. These are clothes that stand out.” He also credits social media with the normalising of outfits that used to be reserved for after dark. “It’s this giant mirror,” he says. “I think it has put a different spin on self-fashioning and self-appearance in relation to that kind of community of people who are interested in projecting an idea of themselves. It’s hugely powerful, though I don’t think it’s all positive.”

Jeffrey is part of a generation where non-heterosexual and cisgender identities have, as O’Neill says, been “normalised as part of their peer group and wider society”. If the folks attending Taboo had a very different life in the daytime – “they were doing it all at nights and waking up in squats”, says O’Neill – Jeffrey’s generation is increasingly using clothes as self-expression 24/7. The designer describes his class at Central Saint Martins as a place where “it was the norm for people to be wearing dresses, girls in suits. You would have your Supreme sportswear person next to someone who pins ties to a towel and wears that.” The success of RuPaul’s Drag Race – now on its ninth series – has, he says, helped the mainstream become acclimatised to this different way of dressing. “That drag look isn’t only something you see in a dark basement of a club, you see it’s something that can be digested.”

Even if his clothes are not designed to be a political statement, Jeffrey does feel strongly about providing a space where trans identity can be celebrated: “there is a lot of stigma still attached to trans people and it’s important to communicate with the whole spectrum of what gender is, people who want to be associated with femininity and masculinity”. Loweth also feels strongly about this issue, with the label’s recent show featuring several trans models. “Trans identity across the world is being attacked, especially with people such as Trump in power now,” he says. “We want to create joyous self-expressions to combat that.” Resistance through joy is an idea that feels very 2018.

There is a school of thought that more and more people will start to dress in a way that subverts the long-established structures of who is meant to wear what – whether in a big way, as with Jeffrey’s gang, or with smaller tweaks, such as young men wearing glitter at festivals. Does that mean there is a gap in the market? Selfridges, which has worked with Jeffrey and Art School, thinks so. Jack Cassidy, the company’s menswear buying manager, says the designer, whose show it hosted last weekend, “is leading the way for a less gender-specific way of dressing and categorisation”. In-store, following on from 2015’s Agender genderless fashion project, Cassidy adds that up to half of the designer men’s avant-garde department (where the likes of Jeffrey would sit) is now sold to women. Cassidy believes this across-gender shopping will continue: “Generally, the new generation of fashion-savvy consumer would shop in stores and departments that historically were targeted to the opposite gender.”

Perhaps what makes Jeffrey and this cohort of designers feel important is that they are experimenting with self-expression as much as selling clothes. It means what they are doing rings true – and for a zeitgeist where authenticity is highly prized, that’s the sweet spot. “I’m happy walking down the street with makeup. It might lift today, it might make it that much more interesting,” says Jeffrey. “Rather than: ‘I’m going for a night out,’ it’s like: ‘I’m going to go and get my eggs.’ Let’s see how that feels.”

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[rachyrachy123]

A couple of days ago I did something which, in hindsight, was utterly and completely ridiculous. I went to the Doctor;s and very carefully, very rationally asked him to prescribe me a diet pill, commonly given to obese people, in order to lose weight. Granted, this isn’t the most outlandish problem I’ve brought to a Dr before, not even close, you are after all talking to a bonafide hypochondriac who has convinced herself over the years that she has brain tumours, cancer, HIV, Tourette’s, Schizophrenia and most recently Glaucoma. (To name a few.)

  Let’s give a shout out to the good Doctor though, he did hide his smile very well and politely told me he would not be able to do that, that I was clearly not overweight and while I could lose a few pounds for cosmetic reasons if I wanted to, that this was clearly not impacting on my physical health. For some reason, maybe the sheer absurdity of the scenario, or his calm words, it really hit something home for me. I was not in bad health. This man must see people every day who have life changing or sometimes life threatening conditions; who struggle to perform basic day to day tasks and here I was banging on about wanting to lose 10lbs so I could be the same size as I was when I was 21. Sometimes the shame I feel for my actions makes me feel incredulous to how I ever could have thought they were a good idea.

This got me on to thinking about the bigger picture and why I really felt that desperate need to fit back into a size 10. It’s just a number, why was it so important to me?

From being very small and first starting dance classes I’ve always been just on the wrong side of ‘chubby’. Never fat, just sort of soft and with about as much muscle definition as a wet flannel. This was just the way I was, my sister, who had little interest in dance and annoyingly way more natural ability, was all limbs and lean muscle and flexibility, while I struggled to reach my toes and always had a slight pot-belly in my leotard. I can very clearly remember it bothering me and often crying with frustration in front of the mirror. I suppose those kind of demons lay foundations deep when you’re 8 or 9.

It sparked a lifelong passion for dance which led me to train professionally. Again, the old issues arose. Let me tell you, the dance world is not a kind place when you’re barely 5ft 3, have a double F chest and a stomach that just won’t lay flat no matter how many sit-ups and diets you do. I look back now and wish I’d embraced my difference, wish I’d tried to accept that’s just who I was and given it everything I had anyway. Unfortunately when you’re 18 that’s about as impossible and sprouting wings from your arse and flying to Jupiter.  I looked at my friends, with their perfect physiques and tiny crop tops that didn’t require a bra that looked like something out of a camping catalog and envied them. All I wanted was to be like them and so that’s what I tried to do. As I now know, and as I’m sure most of you do, trying to be somebody else never works.

The rest of my 20’s were a bit of a shitshow of partying and soul-searching and trying to find who I was and more partying and more partying and to be honest, on the most part I’m glad they’re behind me. Since that milestone birthday just over a year ago every thing really has seemed to click into place. I have a partner who I adore and tells me every day how beautiful I am, I’ve found passion through travel and writing, I no longer try to be somebody else but embrace my unique “me-ness”, so why do these old demons refuse to die?

The media loves to tell us how we are all now image obsessed. I don’t see this. Sure, if you spend your life in front of the TV or reading vacuous, mindless magazines that’s the message you’ll perceive, but on the whole I don’t buy that premise for a second. I personally know, and meet, amazing, talented, beautiful, inspiring, honest and truthful people every day who base little to no emphasis on their clothes size or what the scales say or how big their biceps are. These people are interesting. Not because of their lack of care for the narcissistic, not because they don’t conform, they’re just interesting. Period. I can honestly say I have never given their weight a second thought. I believe these things, I KNOW them, so how do I get what I know to connect with what I feel?

Another source of frustration for me is that I personally adore the aesthetic of a curvier woman. That isn’t to say thin women aren’t gorgeous too, I appreciate and champion women of any shape, I just personally like the look of a rounded stomach, curvy hips and thick thighs. Some of my favorite IG ladies are shown below:

I look at images like these daily and genuinely believe them to be beautiful and wish I looked that way, so how come when I see my own body in the mirror I can’t see the same beauty I see there? A curve or roll I see on them is attractive to me, on myself I’m repulsed. It makes no sense.

I recently found myself feeling anxious about the impending prospect of returning to London. I know I want to rekindle my burlesque career and yet I feel a sense of dread when I think about it. Will people book a girl who’s my size and shape? The evidence I see would sadly suggest probably not. In that case, what do I do? Stick by my guns and continue to self-accept, risking my passion in the process? Or go on a juice cleanse, get back to the shape I was when the lemon detox seemed like a rational idea and conform?

Of course all of this is ultimately completely meaningless. In a World where children are being obliterated in drone strikes, the fact I can’t fit into my denim shorts is an utterly abhorrent “problem”. I do still believe at the heart of it, it is an issue we should address though and try and stamp out. If we learn to love ourselves a bit more, lumpy bits and all, then we raise a massive “fuck you” to the powers that be who have set these impossible standards for us, thus creating a more loving place for every one.

I guess, like any struggle it is something that will be ongoing. It is impossible to change a lifetime of learned behaviors and thoughts overnight and the process will be a long one. Some days will be good and I’ll wear that bodycon dress with pride, and others I’ll feel like a potato person made from cottage cheese. I will continue to fight the good fight though, for myself and for the entire sisterhood. <3

(And maybe buy some bigger denim shorts.)

The Body Positive Merry-Go-Round A couple of days ago I did something which, in hindsight, was utterly and completely ridiculous. I went to the Doctor;s and very carefully, very rationally asked him to prescribe me a diet pill, commonly given to obese people, in order to lose weight.