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simpxxstan · 2 years

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Ramyeon Meokgo Gallae? (ksj one-shot)

pairing: ceo!jin x ceo!reader

genre: slice of life, angst, smut, exes to lovers, arranged marriage au

summary: when you fall into a trap that can ruin your life and the empire that you’ve built over so many years, your best way out is to marry the person your parents want you to marry. except that your parents want you to marry jin. who you have history with. who you’ve never quite gotten over. and who has led you to become the heartless woman you are today.

word count: 11.5k

rating: 18+

warning: explicit sexual content, foul language, slow burn, a lot of angst and heartbreak, slight side sope *heart eyes*, namjoon can drive in this au!!

a/n: i’m sorry if there are tense and verb errors! i didn’t write the whole thing in one flow, and editing it all again at the end gets really confusing and cumbersome. i’ve tried to edit and rectify as much as possible, but please bear with me if there are grammatical errors! do let me know your feedback! it took me about a month to write this, and i haven't written something in so so long, i feel rusty. thank you for reading!

___

You pace in your room, your heels clicking on the tiled floor. Your mind is racing at a million miles an hour, but you can’t see any solution. Not a single fucking one. You feel like ripping apart everything, but that won’t solve the problem. You’ve given so much to build your world, your empire. You won’t let it come down so easily.

“You have-”

“No options left. I know, Yoongi, stop trying to remind me every minute!” Your voice becomes shriller with each word, but you know that your lawyer, your best friend and closest ally, is right, and that irks you the most. The television screen in front of you is still blaring out the news that threatens to bring down everything you’ve built with your blood, sweat and tears, and you feel like a helpless maniac.

“Why can’t you marry him?”

You stop in your tracks, turning to look deadpan at the man sitting on the couch in a dark blue suit, his white hair parted and neat, making him look fairer than he is. “You know why.”

“Yes, but it was so many years ago. Y/N you’ve matured enough to move on.”

“STOP trying to counsel my feelings. I know I should move on. I know I need to. But, I can’t…” you falter, and Yoongi steps up, holding your arm and steadying you. He looks straight into your eyes and forces you to look back at him by putting a finger under your chin. “I’m not counselling your feelings. I know you hate him. And I know everything else too. I’ve heard enough of your drunken rants. And, I think, hell, I think it’s fair that you feel that way. But, now you have no other options left. And you can’t let everything go because of that one person, who broke your heart so many years ago. Be the stronger person, and use this opportunity to protect yourself, Y/N.”

You look at him, and breathe in. Deep breaths Y/N, use the one trick you’ve used to calm down your temper. “Okay.” You whisper quietly. He looks at you, eyebrows raised, clearly asking you to repeat. “Okay. I’m ready.” You nod, as he begins to nod. “That’s my girl.” He pats your hair once, and you know that his affection display metre has already broken and he’s going to go underground for the rest of the month.

___

“Hmm.” you speak into your phone when you’re awakened by your sister’s call at 7 am, which was definitely early morning to you on a sunday. Considering that you had just gotten to sleep three hours ago. “Have you seen the news?”

“Nope.” You sit up in your bed. That was a bad starter. “Why?” you ask her. “Go switch on your telly. Don’t cut the call.”

You grunt and swing out of bed. You were already annoyed- your sister was unpredictable, you expected this call to be anything from a prank call to the announcement of the marriage of her favourite movie star.

What you did not expect on the television, was a leaked video of a man speaking loudly to someone sitting next to him, “Such a slut- sucked my dick and begged for the money.” Everyone in the room erupts into laughter. The video gets changed to a reporter’s video who is supposedly making comments on the truth of this video.

And, suddenly you can’t breathe.

Somewhere, your sister speaks. Your phone buzzes with her voice. “Did you watch it?” You can’t even pick up the call. You whisper to yourself, “What do I do?” And you keep repeating it, like a mantra. Your sister keeps calling out your name, but you don’t care about her. All you want to do is to sink back into the same hole you crawled into twelve years ago. You can’t see the light that you grasped for yourself when you finally overcame it all. You can only see darkness. Pitch black.

___

“I didn’t sleep with him before the deal. I swear I didn’t.” You explain for the third time to your father. You’re sitting in your office, and you can hear the people from the press right under your window. You may be on the tenth floor, but you can still hear the ruckus in the streets. It’s almost funny. This is not a rare sight to you, you’ve faced flak from the public and the media before, but this one is different. You couldn’t be brought to give a fuck for the past times, but this, it threatened to bring you down. Everything you had built would be ruined. And you couldn’t imagine living without the work you were so proud of.

“Okay, then do you have any kind of proof that any intimate relations between you two began after the loan was sanctioned?” Your lawyer, Yoongi, asks you. He’s sitting right next to you, and out of the four people in the room, he has the least tense expression. The slight furrowing of eyebrows seems like he’s just annoyed to be woken up so early, but you know he’s concerned from deep within. He’s your best friend.

That’s why he can read your eyes when you don’t respond to him. “Y/N, I need you to be honest.”

“We… had some conversations while the loan was still being sanctioned. It was a couple of days after we met for the first time, and we’d gone out for a drink-” you see everyone’s eyebrows raise, “but I promise, it was innocent! We didn’t have any physical interaction. Honestly, no touches. Just business.”

“Then?” Your sister asks you, steely.

“Umm, you know…”

“Sexting?”

“Let’s just say it could put me in a bad position.” You look at your fingers in your lap.

“This is bad.” She sighs.

“What do we do now?” Your father asks Yoongi.

“Nothing. We publicly deny it. We don’t show the chats unless he brings it up. He won’t bring it up, because he knows it’s gonna expose that he was equally interested in getting his dick sucked by you, irrespective of the loan.”

Everyone looks at Yoongi, who’s calmly explaining everything while typing something on his laptop. “And then, you return the loan. With interest. Immediately.”

Your protest, instantly, “I can’t, Yoongi, you know! Even our stocks have fallen in value since today morning, and I don’t have that kind of money. I can’t even take another loan from anyone. Not that anyone would be willing to give me any loan now.”

“I’ll arrange-” Your father starts. You flinch, “No, papa. I’m not going to make another mistake by taking your filthy money.” He smiles, without any mirth. “You think I’m going to give you my money? Huh, no you fool. I wouldn’t associate myself with this scandal. You separated yourself from me ten years ago, I see the advantages of it today.” You stare at him. He has no idea how much his words sting you, how cruelly tears threaten to pass the threshold of your eyes, how nauseous you feel.

“You’ll marry and get the money.”

At this even your sister’s jaw drops. “Papa-”

You laugh. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s the only way for you to get the money quickly, you silly girl. And I have the perfect candidate in mind.”

Yoongi asks, seriously. “And who is it?”

“Kim Seokjin.”

___

Madness. Sheer madness. You must be going crazy. Congratulations, Y/N. After years of people predicting it, it must have truly happened to you. Because there is no fucking way on earth you’re hearing Yoongi say to you, “I think he’s right.”

You throw another book at him.

“Violence isn’t the solution, Y/N.” “Oh yes, you motherfucker. It is the only solution.” You seethe in anger, ready to punch him again. Thank God that your cabin has blinds drawn.

“I think your father is right.” Thankfully your father isn’t in the room, because if he heard the curses you emit at his mention, he’d straight up disown you. And while you’d love that at any other time, this is not the time for that.

“You need to marry someone to get the money. Marry rich. Instant money. Boom, return loan. Divorce him after a couple of months, huh? Not so bad.”

Yoongi has the audacity to smirk, for which he is rewarded with another book.

“Y/N, please talk to me. Normally.”

You take a deep breath.

“What are my other options?”

“None.”

“What?” You spit.

“You can’t get a loan. You don’t have that much money. Your company is going to come down in two days when the stakeholders back off. You’re probably never going to be trusted by anyone ever again because now everyone sees you as a slut.” You know that well, the television screams at you- “Y/N selling herself for her company?” Ridiculous. Far-fetched. Ugly. You had always been the business world’s most hated bitch for being a woman who had alone made it this far, without any help from her father, without any support from a man, in a world of suited men with egos the size of Antarctica. And now everything you had proved wrong in this world was coming crashing down on you.

“Furthermore, I think that by marrying him and falsifying a story of how you had known each other since childhood, which is not fully false though, we can create an angle showing you as pure. You never wanted to sleep with him, because you were devoted to your childhood love.” You stare at Yoongi, who was staring back at you with his cat eyes. It sounded perfect. And you had full faith in Yoongi. He’d handled your PR forever, from making you class president at school to now in your company, and you trusted him to execute this perfectly.

There was just one problem.

“Yoongi… I can’t marry him. I can’t marry… Seokjin.” The word feels oddly natural although foreign to your tongue, like the taste of blood. Your breath was cold, your body shivering.

“Y/N. I can’t pressurise you about this. But you know you have no options left. And Seokjin… may have changed. You definitely have changed. You won’t fall for his games again.”

He looks at you earnestly, but you can’t see the hope he wants you to see. All you see is the end of the tunnel. The end of your glorious life of thirty years. You begin pacing in the room, a clear indication to Yoongi to shut up now.

___

When you’re ready, Yoongi brings you out of your cabin, which was becoming stuffy. Your secretary is waiting for you. She looks at you with wide eyes. You laugh internally. She had always thought of you as her role model, and you knew well how it hurt to see the image of someone you saw as perfect to break. As Yoongi briefed her about your new schedule, you walked around in your office, full of people, who were usually dedicated to their work, but today everyone seemed more interested in gossip. Which immediately shut up as soon as you came into the vicinity.

“Ahem.” You cough slightly, getting everyone’s attention.

“I have a few things to say. I believe you should know the truth first. Before the rest of the world does.” You breathe in deeply. You had no idea how to do this, it wasn’t even on Yoongi’s plan. But you ran on instinct.

“What the video says, is a lie. I guess you expected me to say this, but it really is. I don’t know how to prove it to the world, nor can I prove it to you. But I did not sleep with that man, and I have never wished to do it either. What you did not expect is the incoming storm that our company will face. I’m well aware that we will go through pressure now. From all ends. I’d like to reassure my employees that no one is going to get fired. No layoffs at my place, please. I’ve seen the damage those can create.” Everyone murmurs, smiling softly.

“I just ask that you stay with me in this storm. We will brave through it together, and get out on the other side… with a big bang.” Everyone cheers, someone says “Fighting!”

And you smile for the first time in the day, a smile of true joy.

At least not everything was lost.

___

When the press conference ends, Yoongi drops you home. “Rest well. You have a busy day tomorrow.”

But rest eludes you, as does peace of mind and any kind of serenity. You have one black hole of fear growing in the pits of your stomach, roaring to you one name. “Kim Seokjin”. As you finish bottle after bottle of soju, and drink yourself to sleep, you dream of him. It’s been four years since the last dream. They’ve always been bad dreams. Dreams that left you perspiring and breathless. Dreams that were reminiscent of reality, and memories you couldn't erase. You’re sure that tonight will be the same type. Nonetheless, tonight, when you dream of him, you smile in your sleep.

He smelled of roses. Strong but enticing, just like himself. All evening he had done nothing but steal glances at you, and you’ve openly stared at him. The soju had opened up your inner desires too much, and you can’t stop staring at your two-month long crush. A solid year after you had joined college, you had seen him for the first time. He had been dribbling the basketball, while talking to his friends. And you had fallen in love. He was the first crush of your life, and you had no idea how to proceed. Except that you had put all hope on fate, which had brought you to this party with him. Not with him, obviously, but this party which included him too.

And now he was looking at you. Everyone else was drinking, laughing, tipsily gossiping, even making out. But Kim Seokjin only had eyes for you. His ears were red, perhaps from the soju.Your entire body was red, because of his attention. You knew it probably meant nothing, but it didn’t stop your body from going on fire. You’d never felt anything like this before. Nineteen year old you didn’t know what desire was until you had met Seokjin.

And now the basketball player, with the broadest shoulders in the team, was standing in the doorway, laughing at some joke cracked by his friends, none of whom you cared about. You were ready to leave, having had your fun for the night. You had met this very nice girl, and chatted with her. She seemed just as crazy as you were, and you had exchanged numbers. Once she bid you goodnight and left, you were ready to disappear too, for it was getting late.

But then he called you from behind, his deep voice echoing in the cool night air that surrounded you two. Suddenly, it was just the two of you, and your skin burnt with his gaze. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You turned around, pretending to be nonchalant, but failing at it.

“Ramyeon meokgo gallae?”

You had stared at him for a good thirty seconds, before fully comprehending his words. He had continued to stare back at you, refusing to blink.

Finally you answered, “Sure.” You tried to hide your smile, but he quickly took your hand and led you to his car, whispering something about not standing in the cold for too long.

He made sure you wouldn’t feel cold all night. That night when he took all of your firsts. Your protected life had been broken into by this wonderful man who made you feel like you were in heaven, and you had no complaints. He took it slow, staring at you in between sloppily kissing your cunt, letting you scratch his back when he thrust into you, biting gentle marks onto your neck. When he whispered praises to you of how good you’d been to him, and how thankful he was that he was your first, you had been giddy with pleasure erupting all over your body.

You prayed, before going to sleep in his arms, that you could spend your life with him like this.

The next morning, he was gone. But he had left a note for you. “Dear Y/N, I made ramyeon. Please eat it before leaving for college! I’ll see you at seven tonight?” You had smiled at the thought of tonight, smiled when you saw his marks all over your body, smiled when you ate the ramen. Later he would tell you, between kisses that made you forget your name, that he had to leave in the morning for a run in the field. He had to keep fit, else the coach would kick him out of the team, and the two of you would giggle. He would laugh with you to sleep, telling you joke after joke of what happened that day. It made your heart warm, when you heard him laugh with you, when you heard him call you baby with genuine affection, when he cooked meals for you before leaving every morning.

Oh, what a fool you were.

And you were a fool again, waiting for him for the past half an hour, in a fancy restaurant. You half expected him to not turn up, without any reason, and your other half expected him to send someone on his behalf to eat with you. Both things you’d experienced before.

You hadn’t seen him in years, except in your dreams, and occasionally in the news. He had founded a startup after college, which had soon become a reputed, well-established big business, and he was often on television.

That’s why, when you saw a man with the broadest pair of shoulders you had ever seen, the plumpest and pinkest lips, and a broad expanse of forehead exposed by his gelled up hair, walking towards you, you didn’t know it was him. It was only when he pulled up the chair in front of you, that he said with a smirk.

“Funny how whenever we meet you’re staring at me.”

Instantly, everything clicks. His swagger, his ruthless smirk, his dark burning eyes, his glowing confidence. You knew it all too well.

“You haven’t changed at all.”

“And you, baby.”

You flinch. He takes the hint, but he doesn’t drop the pet name. He simply smirks and calls for the waiter. Again, no explanation as to why he was late. No apologies. No excuses.

“Please get us your finest wine. And two plates of fillet mignon.”

You’re still dazed by how he’s sitting right in front of you, and you’re not combusting into flames, nor launching yourself on him to punch the hell out of him. Funny how things change with time.

“I heard you’re in a mess.”

“Everyone has heard that .”

“Why does your father need me then?”

You’re surprised. “Wait, you don’t know?”

“And how do you expect me to know?”

“I thought you’d know. Or you know, something of the sort. I don’t know why else my father would suggest you as the perfect man for me to marry right now.” You scoff, as he instantly retorts, “Perhaps he’s fallen for my handsome face too.”

“Spare me that nonsense, please.”

“Oh, baby girl’s all grown up.”

“I’m not going to be your little doll forever, manipulating me and feeding me lies.”

His smirk disappears.

“I never lied to you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N-”

“Hiding truths also count as lies, you brat.”

“That was necessary for me to survive.”

“You’re lying to me again. Huh! Even now you can’t speak the truth.”

You stop talking when the waiter brings the food and wine. When he is finally gone, you look up at Seokjin, and you see something new in his eyes. Hurt? Regret? Sadness? You don’t know. And you couldn’t care less.

"You've got it all wrong Y/N," he whispers to you before sipping his wine.

___

You don’t know when you got out of that restaurant, and ended up at a bar. The two of you had eaten your dinner in silence. For you, it was too difficult to talk to him, even look at him for too long, without tears hurting your eyes. You don’t know about why he didn’t talk though.

But when you get to the bar, and gulp down your first glasses of martini, he starts talking.

“Why does your dad want me to marry you?”

You’re sitting on stools next to each other, some would probably mistake you for colleagues. Your knees could’ve touched, your eyes could’ve met his. But you stared at your empty glass. “I don’t know. How does he even know you?”

“I’ve done business with him. Many times.” “Aah…” You grow silent, and he speaks, “Isn’t thinking of marriage too far-fetched? Especially since it’s just a professional relationship.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Huh?”

“Did you ever mention… that we… knew each other in college?”

Seokjin’s eyes never leave you. “He asked if I knew you, since we’re both from the same college. I had to say yes.”

You smirk. “Then he must’ve done some digging and found out that we…” you don’t know how to finish the sentence. Dated? Went out? Fucked?

“But we covered everything up well?” Seokjin is puzzled, as he motions the bartender for another round of martinis. “Papa … has his ways and means.” You want to laugh at the universe. This was all your father’s plan to spite you. Force you to marry someone who he knew you had a bad history with. He must’ve found out somehow that your… relationship hadn’t ended… well. It was quite a ruckus in college when everyone had found out that The Seokjin was sleeping with Y/N, who was the daughter of the owner of all the top hotels in Seoul, Mr. L/N. And an even greater chaos when you two stopped seeing each other.

Someone must’ve spilled.

This time, you really do laugh out hysterically.

“Everyone hates me.”

“Stop being paranoid, Y/N.”

“I’m not!” You laugh again, “You hate me. My father hates me. He knows that you hate me. He knows that if he can force me to marry someone who hates me, he will have taken his revenge for the huge mistake I’ve made of outshining him in the corporate world.”

You look at the man next to you. The first two buttons of his black dress shirt are open, revealing beautiful collar bones. He had always been gifted with the best body structure you had ever seen. “Let’s not get married. Please. I can’t marry… you.” You can’t stop the tears this time. “I’m not ready to go through this again. I’ll only end up with more scars. And I really don’t… wanna….” And you hide your face on the counter, putting your hands around your face.

Seokjin is silent. He’s never seen you so bitter. He can’t help but think of what you’ve gone through these past years. What he’s put you through. And even if you don’t know it, he wants to take this opportunity to make it right.

“You’re tipsy. Go home. Let’s meet tomorrow and finalise the contract.” You sit up at his strong, steely voice commanding you. “Contract?” “Yes, the contract of our marriage.”

He stands up, pays the bill with his black card, and takes your hand, pulling you away from the bar counter. When he drives you home, you fall asleep in his car, inhaling that scent of roses you had fallen in love with. Moments before you do, you ask him, as he puts on your seatbelt. “Just give me the money, why do you need to marry me?” You don’t hear him whisper back, “Because I’ve always wanted to marry you.”

___

You’re thankful that Yoongi is sitting next to you. Doing all the talking for you. After last night, you can’t stop thinking about how this is the worst thing that could happen to you. All your enemies were ganging up against you. When you said this to Yoongi, along with how your ‘date’ with Seokjin had gone, he merely smiled at your crazed whispers, “I don’t think so, Y/N”. You had felt like screaming at him, but you were too sleepy.

Seokjin is sitting on the other side of the table, with his lawyer. It seems like a divorce, but it’s funnily a marriage contract.

Seokjin and you have decided on all the rules already. The marriage is going to be for precisely 26 months starting from the month of the contract. You would get married in two weeks, and you’re going to shift to Seokjin’s condo. You would argue that your house is definitely bigger, and better located than his, but Yoongi insisted. The contract involved going to parties, events, social occasions together. Celebrating anniversaries, initially bimonthly, then two public anniversaries. Private events too, dreamy pictures of an ideal couple in love.

“How about a honeymoon?” Seokjin’s lawyer, Hoseok, asks casually. Your jaw drops, eyes widening. You’re looking at Yoongi, then at Seokjin, but no one’s batting a lash.

“I’m okay with it.”

“I’m not!” You lash out at Seokjin, who’s stunned. You wish Yoongi would stop staying silent, but he’s too busy staring at the other lawyer’s fingers. “I can’t go on a vacation with you.”

This time Yoongi speaks up. “Why not, Y/N?”

“Because I can’t stay in a freaking honeymoon hotel room with this man. Plus, going on a trip would mean doing things together-”

“Not necessarily.” Seokjin’s voice is steely. “We can stay in separate rooms, do different things. No one will notice, if we arrange it well.” You’re still in disbelief.

“He’s right. You’ll have to make this believable, Y/N, to completely disassociate yourself from the scandal.”

His words hit hard, and you find your courage recoiling.

Seokjin is staring intently at you, he can see the wheels turning in your head. “What’s the loan amount?”

“Sixteen billion won.”

He nods his head. “It’ll be arranged to be given all at once. Y/N can repay me in instalments, does that work?” He slowly reaches his hand across the table to hover over your hand, and you flinch. “Yeah, it’ll work.”

“Great!” Hoseok flashes you all a smile, that’s quite starkly different from Yoongi’s calm and grim attitude. Your best friend does seem quite captivated by the smile. “We have a deal?” You nod, as Seokjin signs the papers, followed by you. When you shake hands and look into his eyes, you hope he can see the resentment in your eyes and expect no forgiveness.

___

Your father doesn’t walk you down the aisle, on the day of your marriage. You walk down it yourself, in your elegant white dress that has roses embroidered in beautiful colours and patterns all over the bodice. You don’t wear a veil, your hair is let down, and you’re walking with a stone cold face. As you near the altar, you can see a man looking impeccable in a suit, looking at you with focus and intent. Seokjin looks as fine as ever, and you’re suddenly conscious but you don’t care less. This is not your wedding, it’s just an act. And you’ve always been able to act since you were a kid. First in school plays, then in real life, when you’ve had to hide your fury and tears and put on a smile for your Papa’s sake. He doesn’t even smile seeing you getting married, although your mother and sister are already tearing up. You see Seokjin’s parents sitting right next to them, beaming. You don’t understand why.

Yoongi is your maid of honour. He’s wearing a baby blue suit, and looking dashing. Hoseok is Seokjin’s best man. He’s smiling brightly at everyone in the room, but he doesn’t know that Yoongi keeps looking at him. You smile at the sight, at least someone’s happy in this arrangement.

When you stand in front of Seokjin, you feel his stare burning down into you. It wasn’t necessarily negative or angry, it was simply… curious. Hesitant. Shy, but eager. You hadn’t seen this side of him earlier. He looks perfect, his black hair pushed up to expose his forehead, strong shoulders the focus of his suit, and his posture straight. You look like a nervous wreck, barely holding up.

You deserve better from fate.

The priest begins to read the vows, looking at Seokjin, who’s looking at you. When he reaches the crucial part, the words roll off his tongue, smooth like butter, as if he’s practised: “I do.”

It’s not so smooth for you, even though you have practised. You stutter, stumble, and force yourself to smile. The nerves have never got you this bad. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s because you hate the man you’re marrying? Maybe it’s because you feel like you’re Alice falling down the rabbit hole? Maybe it’s because this feels too realistic? Because you’ve dreamt of this over and over again when Seokjin would whisper secret wishes of putting his babies into you when you were young, wild and carefree?

Maybe because you’ve always wanted to marry him. No one but him. Even if you hate him. He’s the only man in this world who you’ve ever really cared about. The flings who came and went after that were nothing but sexual encounters you needed for your body. Your heart had never been aroused by anyone but…

“Do you, L/N Y/N, take Kim Seokjin, as your lawfully wedded husband?”

You realise that the priest has been repeating this sentence. You’re brought back to reality, and you’re hesitant, until…

Seokjin winks at you.

Fucking winks at you.

Your mind cannot process it, and you blush out of instinct.

“I do.”

The man standing in front of you smiles with his eyes first, then his lips part in a beautiful smile.

“You may kiss the bride.” The priest addresses the groom, who bends down, hesitant, eyes full of questions. You blink once, indicating you’re ready. He smells like roses, when his rosy lips press a kiss to yours. His hands grip your waist, and you melt to his warm touch. When he moves back, you’re both smiling. You don’t know what you’re thinking about.

The past? Or the present? Or the future?

Your heart beats fast.

___

After the ceremony is over, there’s an elaborate lunch. Your father sheds fake tears, you drink a lot of wine, and there’s many wishes for a happy married life. You smile too much, your jaws hurt. When Seokjin kisses you softly again mid-dance, when everyone is waiting for you two to show some affection as a newly-married giddy couple, he makes you forget everyone else. He’s always had this effect on you. You want to protest but you like it a little too much for even your own liking. Everyone is happy with how your wedding went, you can’t wait to crash at Yoongi’s place with soju and drink yourself to sleep.

Since you’re too tired from the stress of the wedding, Hoseok drives you and Yoongi to the latter’s house. Yoongi’s house is radically different from your own. While you had gone for light pastels and airy sunshiney shades, Yoongi had the walls painted a dark grey. But you had to admit, Yoongi’s minimalistic art sense made even the grey look elegant.

When you reach his house, you spot Yoongi trying to say something but hesitating. Reading his mind, you say, “Hoseok, join us!”

“No no, I don’t wanna barge into best friend time, I’m leaving!” Hoseok smiles widely, his entire face so bright even after the exhaustion of the day. Yoongi speaks up, finally mustering some courage, “No, Hoseok, you don’t have to leave! We’re just going to drink up. It’s cool if you stay. The more the merrier.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup yup.” Your best friend needs no more confirmation. He’s already setting down three glasses and bottles of soju, and arranging the snacks.

“Thanks!”

Six bottles of soju disappear fast. You quickly learn that although initially, Hoseok is the one chattering the most, laughing out loud and basically hyped at everything, he eventually slows down his incessant flow of talking as the alcohol increases, and Yoongi fills in the gaps as he’s more talkative when drunk. They sit next to each other, unconsciously touching each other, and Hoseok is definitely looking at Yoongi with puppy eyes as he’s more and more drunk.

You learn that Hoseok has known Seokjin for the past five years, and has now become his business partner and lawyer. Also his best friend. Naturally he knows everything about his past. Well, not everything. Even he doesn’t know exactly why Seokjin disappeared on you. He never got to that part of the story when narrating history in drunk rants.

It’s fun bitching about Seokjin. Hoseok has a good sense of humour, and together the three of you have endless jokes about his narcissism, his stuck-up attitude, his babyish nature, and his winks. When you tell them that he winked at you during the ceremony, Hoseok falls into Yoongi’s lap, laughing. You’re too intoxicated to know if the fall was intentional.

Ten bottles down, you’re too sleepy to continue talking. Your jaws hurt even more now because you’ve talked so much, but it’s a good pain. Your ribs hurt because you’ve laughed so hard after so, so many years.

When you’re falling asleep on the floor, putting your arm below your head as a cushion, you see Hoseok already sleeping on a cushion right next to Yoongi, who’s staring at him intently. You smile at your best friend. Yoongi’s always been shy about any ideas of romance, and you think Hoseok’s the same under the mask of that bright, smiling face. It’s a nice thought to fall asleep to.

___

Things don’t go back to normal immediately. After about a week, the media ceases to talk about the scandal. And more about other things, like how you’re spending your newly married life with Kim Seokjin, who had been dubbed as “Worldwide Handsome” after he had overtaken some famous K-drama actors in terms of looks in a recent poll. Although you had shifted into his house, you had yet to have much conversation with him. This was because his house had a convenient feature- it was a duplex. So the second floor was completely yours, and you also had a separate door to it. There was no need for pretence either when friends (read, only Yoongi, and sometimes Hoseok) came to visit. They all knew about the arrangement. The only people who didn’t know were Seokjin’s parents, but they had returned to the USA soon after the wedding so there wasn’t any undue intrusion from them either. To the outside world, you were a couple in their honeymoon period, rarely going out of your house because you were busy doing… coupley things?

But in reality, you both were stuck up in your rooms, working from home. You barely came out of your new room, which you had quickly furnished as per your taste and brought your belongings over to, and Seokjin never came up to your floor. You would often get take-out, or make something easy in your shared kitchen, but your routine was quite different from Seokjin’s. You were more of a night person, so you’d wake up later than him and your entire day would go by on a +2 hours schedule than his. You never clashed.

In that week, you had four encounters in all. The first day, Hoseok and Yoongi had come over, signing more contracts ensuring that you got the money to pay off the loan from the scandal. Seokjin made lunch for you all. Surely it was just a coincidence that it was the same thing he had made for your one year anniversary back in college and you had enjoyed it so much that he had made it every night for the week after that too.

The second encounter was three days after that, when you had to talk to him about bringing over your furniture to your new room. It was a ten-minute discussion, with you standing in the doorway of the hall, him sitting on the sofa, and you couldn’t help but notice, wearing a dapper white suit that made his skin glow in the morning when you were barely awake and simply dressed in a blue dress.

The third and fourth encounter happened on the seventh day. Early in the morning he had appeared at your door, asking you if you were free for lunch. You really weren’t free, because of a meeting… that you could have rescheduled, to be honest, but he didn’t press about it when you said that you were not free. You were quite thankful that he had not insisted. Later, you had ordered pizza, and you were waiting near the door because the delivery man was about to arrive at any moment. Suddenly the door burst open and a very sweaty Seokjin burst in. It was nine in the night, and you’d expected him to have fallen him asleep because of his regular schedule, but here it seemed that he had just come back from… gym? “I didn’t know you worked out?” “Nope, that’s too much hard work. I run.” He leans on the kitchen counter, getting back his breath, and you ogle at his lean figure. “You’re…?” “I ordered pizza, waiting for that.” “Oh.” He proceeds to drink water, and in his hurry, he drips some of it on his shirt, which is already wet from sweat. “Would you like some? I’m not going to be able to eat it all anyway.” “Nah, thank you.” He smoothly walked away into his room. Maybe to shower? You didn’t want to think about it.

That night, the dreams returned. The first time you had seen him play basketball in your college campus, his muscular arms on display in the sleeveless tank top he wore. Three weeks after that, he had given you that tank top. When you woke up, the dream still fresh in your mind, you walked up to your wardrobe and found the tank top. It had been too loose for you, and that was your excuse for never wearing it since he had left. But now, you suddenly wanted to wear it again. If it was yours, you had every right to wear it, didn’t you? Plus, it was a Sunday, he was most probably not at home. You had heard from Hoseok that Seokjin often spent Sundays with him and a few other friends from his work. You had the entire house to yourself, and frankly speaking you had been waiting for this day.

It seemed, nothing was going to go according to your plans.

On getting out of your shower, you decided to go down and make coffee for yourself. Putting on music on your phone, you walked down slowly. Wearing the tank top and shorts, you had gone into chill mode, finally getting a day to yourself when you didn’t have to work nor would you have to worry about anything else.

You walk down the stairs in a house of complete silence, but when you put your foot on the first floor, four men pounce out of a room, showering you with bursts of laughter and boisterous shouting. You stare at them in complete shock, faces you do not recognise at all, except two. You notice now that there are more than four men- four stand in a line, shy but still giggling, among which Hoseok had his hand over his mouth hiding his smile.The other three were unfamiliar, until you see Seokjin step up from one side, his entire face red and embarrassed.

“Noona!” All the three men who you didn’t recognise call out your name with adorable smiles. They’re grown up men, wearing adult clothes, but when they call you out, they sound like children and the smiles on their faces are childish. You want to squish their cheeks. Seokjin shushes them with a finger, and you smile at him.

One boy steps up and bows to you. “Y/N Noona, I am Jungkook! Jeon Jungkook!” He’s tall, but not taller than Seokjin. He has many piercings and is wearing an all black outfit, but his entire demeanour is smiley and cute. Another boy steps up, “And I’m Jiminie, and this is Taehyungie!” They have smaller builds than Jungkook but Taehyung is definitely taller than Jimin and Jungkook. They stand with the brightest smiles on their faces. “They’re here from Chicago. They’re my cousins,” Hoseok explains, “but they love Jin hyung more than me! They’re here to see you specially.” You smile instantly, your heart having already warmed towards the boys. You love the bright positive energy that they’ve brought into the house, that’s otherwise so silent and boring. One-by-one you hug each of them, but before you can talk to them, Seokjin asks them to sit in the living room, and pulls you away to his room.

“What’s up?” His hold on your wrist softens, but his thumb lightly grazes on it. “They know… about the arrangement… and the past.” You look up at him, and gulp. “Okay.” “Yeah- and they may say stuff that’s…” “They’re kids, I won’t blame them.” Seokjin scoffs, “Jungkookie is 24 now. Not a kid anymore. Not that he’ll say anything. It’s Jimin and sometimes Tae- they don’t know where to draw the line sometimes. They can be blunt.” You furrow your eyebrows. “But I won’t feel hurt about anything. Nothing was my fault.” Seokjin’s eyes become stern, and you feel him pushing you gently to a wall. “Are you sure? Let’s not blame everything on me.” “I’m just speaking the truth.” You don’t back down, and stare back at him. His hand slips higher up your wrist, to your arm, and he lifts it to check on a bandaid that you had put on your arm last night. He raises his eyebrows. “I cut myself while shaving my arms.” He sighs in relief and rubs it softly. “Be safe.” Before moving out of the cage he had enclosed you in, he picks up your arm and places a feather kiss on the skin just below the bandaid. It sends shivers down your spine, especially when he leaves you abruptly after that, leaving you cold and exposed.

You waddle your way back into the living room.

___

You learn that although the plan was originally that the boys would meet at Hoseok’s place, the Maknaes had arrived at Seokjin’s apartment and had insisted on surprising you, in spite of your husband’s protests. You were thankful that they were high, truly. They had a lot of energy and made the house seem like a home again with their childish and chill behaviour. Hoseok was your age, but around the Maknaes, he was also young and wild. Now you see why Yoongi liked him so much. Even Seokjin was laughing, although there were multiple times he spoiled the laughter in the room with his awful jokes.

You end up ordering pizza, and lounge in the living room. The television is blaring out some music, and in a corner, Hoseok and Jungkook are dancing like maniacs. Taehyung is clicking pictures of everything, laughing to himself. Jimin is busy making amazing cocktails for all of you. And what about you and Seokjin? You’re probably sitting this close after years, and finally doing an inkling of what the newspapers expected y’all to be doing. But you were overthinking it. He was merely sitting next to you. So what if you were slightly leaning into his body, attracted to the warmth? So what if you could smell the roses on him? So what if he had wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and was gently patting your hair? Nothing suspicious. Jimin was wiggling his eyebrows at you both for nothing.

___

“Y’all are comfy.” Taehyung asks out of the blue, when you all are huddled around the pizza, on the carpet. Instantly you’re blushing, and Seokjin moves away from you by an inch. “It’s nothing,” But Tae doesn’t stop. “Even if you’re upset about the marriage now, Jin hyung, you and Y/N have great chemistry.” Jimin nods and pipes in, “And great history.”

Hoseok pinches them, but they seem oblivious to it. Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice as he’s wolfing down the pizza slices. But there’s an odd tension forming between you and Seokjin. You can’t deny that although you tried to stay away from him, you had often unconsciously leaned into the familiar comfort that Seokjin provided. It was something your mind did not control, it was something your body caught on to by default of memory.

It was awful. You hated that you felt nice by sitting next to him, not even exchanging words. Merely the idea that he was there with you being comforting made you hate yourself.

Hoseok broke the silence by asking Tae if he wanted more pizza, and the young boys continued their excited chattering again.

But your mood did not go back to what it was before Taehyung ruined it by speaking the truth. The truth you detested.

___

The weeks after that passed by smoothly. You began to go back to work, people congratulating you on the wedding, and smirking at you when hinting about your super-secret honeymoon. The media went back to talking about things unrelated to you, your life was functioning just fine.

Except one thing.

Seokjin.

You two had fallen into quite a rhythm. You would get up, shower and go down to the first floor. You would find Seokjin almost leaving the house. He’d look at you once before leaving, and you would find breakfast on the kitchen counter. After finishing breakfast, you’d leave the house. In the evening, you would ask Seokjin if he would be eating at home, to which he would reply in monosyllables. Since you generally returned home earlier than him, you would do the dishes, order some kind of takeout if you didn’t feel like cooking, or try to cook something and end up making a mess of it. Then you’d eat dinner by yourself, and go up to your room. If Seokjin did return home for dinner, he would eat whatever you had conjured and then go into his room.

Then repeat the entire routine the next day.

It wasn’t a bad routine. All your life you had craved to live alone, and for the last ten years you had enjoyed that. You’d feared marriage would take away that independence, but this arrangement worked very well for you. Too well, in fact. You probably would never want to change it.

There was just one issue that irritated you.

It had been three weeks since the last time you had gotten laid. And the last time was with the motherfucker who began the scandal. So when your hormones decided to go berserk, you had little to help yourself with.

On one hand, it felt weird to go find a random date. Firstly, if the media found out, it would be the end of your life. And … perhaps less importantly, and honestly, you didn’t even know why it came up in your mind, but it felt strange to fuck someone else when the man you had always wanted to fuck was literally in the same house as you.

On the other hand, you found no sensible reason in your mind when your hormones hit the horny extreme of the scale at midnight and you felt your finger inching downward and your panties slick. You knew very well you could use your vibrator to relieve yourself, get yourself just one high and that would be all. But you didn’t want to. Mostly because seeing Seokjin every day made you think of him. And how he felt. And how he had loved you. Once, before it all went wrong.

___

“Three cheers to Y/N for coming back with a bang!”

Everyone cheered loudly, clinking glasses and you smiled. It was a work dinner, one after many days. Everyone wanted to drink their recent stress away by getting together. Most of your floor was here at this work dinner, but you were paying for it all. It hurt your pocket, but it was a good move to keep morale boosted. Naturally, everyone was drinking without any control. Soju, whisky, beer, vodka, tequila, cocktails. Nothing was banned from the table tonight. And to be fair, even you enjoyed unwinding with your colleagues after a stressful month.

Pretty soon, you all were drunk and chaotic in the bar that you had booked for your party. Despite some of them being older than thirty-five, almost everyone was dancing and chaotically singing to the karaoke in the corner. Some had fallen asleep on the couch, one was crying as they were missing their ex-boyfriend, and only one person was barely drunk but they were wolfing down the samgyeopsal with too much fervour.

You were among those people who were drunk-dancing and singing in the worst tunes. You had always been close to your colleagues- not particularly friends, but you knew you could count on them. So now, when they compelled you to do girl-group dances with you, you didn’t think twice before joining. When a boy-group song came on, you all swooned at the visuals of the handsome idols, laughing and dancing to the beat. It was quite the mood, lasting till 2 am in the night, when the bar owner came to ask you to wrap up, as it was getting too late. You were too inebriated to understand his words clearly, but you got the gist from what your colleagues explained to you in spite of being equally drunk. Some readily bid their goodbyes, bowing to you for such a good evening, and clicking selfies with you. Others were drooling on the couch, and sending them home was quite the task. You didn’t want the drunk-daze to wash off you, but all these efforts made you more and more sober.

When you came out on the street, opening your phone to call Yoongi to pick you up, you found a text from him, saying that he was busy tonight. Puckering your lips in an irritated expression, you considered who else you could call. You briefly considered Seokjin, but it would be too much of an inconvenience for him. Plus, you didn’t want to risk being around him when you were drunk. You’d either get incredibly desperate to kiss him, or kill him.

Kim Namjoon. Your finger hovered over the contact one time before you decided to hit the call button. Namjoon was used to this, anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hi-” you could hear your words slur, and slight shuffling from his end indicating that he was probably sitting up from bed.

“What’s up, Y/N?”

You giggle at his concerned voice. “Nothing babe.”

“Y/N, are you drunk?”

“Is it that evident?” You giggle again.

“Where are you?” You could hear him getting up and walking. You look up at the flashing signboard of the bar, which was now closing down, and tell him the name.

“Okay, hang on. I’m coming.”

______________

Ten minutes later, you were sitting in Namjoon’s car, smiling at how he was focusing on driving through the dark streets of Seoul.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“But it’s so past your bed-time.” He laughs. “You remember?” “Of course, Namjoon.” It’s a red traffic signal. He looks at you for a second too long, and you know what he’s thinking.

“I miss you.” You lean over to kiss his cheek. You can feel that it’s warm, but he’s always been like this. Quietly shy. He clears his throat and drives on as the green light flashes.

“How’s Seokjin?” He asks you after a while.

“He’s … fine?”

“I’m happy for you.”

You laugh. “You don’t have to be.”

“But I’m not pretending. Really!” He smiles at you, his eyes honest. You can see that he’s not lying. Namjoon has never lied to you. Unlike Seokjin.

“I know you love him. Even after all these years.” You smile at him fondly. You can’t even be mad at Namjoon for speaking the truth that you’ve tried to hide so desperately. He knows enough of your past to have figured out the truth of your arranged marriage with his intelligence.

When he looks at you again, staring deep into your eyes. You can feel the blood rush to your face, and you don’t know what you’re thinking but you ask, “Can I kiss you?”

He smiles, his eyes bright because of the lights on the streets.

“No, Y/N. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

You can see the pain in his eyes. But this is why you love him. He knows what’s good for you, and never pushes you to do what he wants.

Oh, how you wish Seokjin could be like this.

That’s the last thought before you fall asleep in his car.

___ When you wake up the next morning, everything seems to be aching. Your head, your arms, the soles of your feet. When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by a sight that intensifies your headache.

“Seokjin?”

He’s literally staring down at you, sitting next to you in your bed. You realise you’re still wearing the clothes you wore at work, and then to the party, last night. You probably smell awful, and look even worse. You’re half scared that Seokjin will scream at you for waking up late and missing work.

But that’s when it hits you. There’s enough sunlight pouring in from the window for you to understand it must be at least past 10 am. And Seokjin is sitting in a t-shirt and shorts, his hair ruffled, and a frown on his face. Isn’t he also missing work?

“Where were you last night?”

“There was a work dinner.”

“But whoever brought you home was not your colleague.”

Your eyes widen. “How the fuck do you know?”

“I know every employee that works in your company. I’ve never seen this one’s face before.”

“What the hell, Kim Seokjin,” you groan, while trying to sit up. But he’s sitting too close for you to sit up without kicking him.

“I’m asking you something.”

“What?” you snap.

“Who was he?”

“Namjoon.”

“Yes, he said that. That’s not what I’m asking.”

“He’s a friend.”

“Really?” He raises his eyebrows. You lean in, taking his challenge. You’re almost breathing the same air as him, and your breath hitches slightly. “Yes,” you tell him, not looking away. “Then why didn’t he come for our wedding?” You’re a little stunned, but you retort. “He’s not that close.” “Yet, you called him instead of me to pick you up when you were drunk. Yet, you clung to him when he brought you home when you weren’t sober. Yet, you’re defending him, right now as we speak.”

“Ugh!” Seokjin’s rapping at this point, his words coming out so fast. He’s always been good at arguing.

“Why are you so interested to know?” You stare back.

“Why are you defending him?” He stares back.

You stay like that for two minutes. Two solid minutes, because it’s so silent that you can hear the clock.

You’re the first to give up. “Okay! We were a little more than friends.”

His jaw clenches, you can see the cogs turn in his head.

“So what?”

“Nothing.” He gets up, walking away slowly. His long legs on perfect display as the shorts hang low on his hips.

You ask again before he can leave the room.

“Seokjin?”

“I didn’t know you dated after me.”

He pauses, looking back at you, his hand on the half-open door.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

And he leaves you speechless.

___

The next few days, you and Seokjin hardly spoke to each other. Even if you were sitting together on the couch watching the news, even if you were both making coffee in the kitchen, even if you accidentally bumped into each other in the house. He seemed to be purposely silent. Every effort to start the conversation was made by you, but whenever you asked him anything he’d either grunt or nod.

“I don’t know why he’s behaving like this. I mean, it’s not like we’re talking a lot anyway, but this is just too odd. He’s never this silent. Even last week, we were joking while watching a movie together. He bought me food last Thursday. But now- it’s all back to zero. No progress. I don’t know what’s up.”

You rant to Yoongi, who’s furiously typing on his laptop, next to you.

“He’s acting up.” “What?” You gulp your coffee. “Why would he do that?”

“He wants attention. Y/N, is it that hard to understand?” You scornfully laugh. “He has enough attention. All the media can do is talk about him anyway.” Just a couple of days ago, Seokjin had modelled for a magazine featuring his success story. “Why do you need to model? It’s a fucking business magazine, publishing a business article. Why do they need you to wear Louis Vuitton and pose?” Seokjin had merely smirked, and said, “Because I look good.”

“No, you thick headed girl. He wants attention from you.”

“Why?” You’re genuinely annoyed at Yoongi now for his ridiculous statements.

“He wants you to give him a chance to explain. For the past.” Yoongi finally looks up from his work. “Talk to him, maybe. Tell him why you feel what you feel. Give him another chance.”

You scoff. “Not even in his wildest dreams.”

“At this point, you’re just being unreasonable.”

“Huh?”

“You can trust a random guy like Namjoon enough to drive you home when you’re drunk, but you can’t trust your husband?”

“Namjoon is not a random guy!”

“But you’ve known him for just a year.”

“He treats me much better than Seokjin, anyway. That’s what counts.”

“Sure, Namjoon is a great guy. No denying that. But Seokjin deserves another chance, I think.”

And with that, Yoongi went back to his laptop.

___

But you had no idea what Seokjin had been up to recently. When you were talking to Yoongi, he was sitting in his car, waiting for a certain individual to show up. He was wearing his shades, although he was sitting inside his car. He had worn black on black, to bring out his most formidable side.

“Hello?” Namjoon got into the car, looking quizzically at Seokjin. He was wearing a loose plaid shirt and shorts, his hair cropped really short. How did Y/N even like him? “Why did you call me here? And how did you know how to contact me?”

He pressed a finger on his lips, shutting Namjoon up. “You know very well why.” Namjoon stared back at him. “... no?”

“Are you this dumb?”

“Generally, no. Your presence has not changed that status, contrary to what you might be thinking. Seokjin scoffed and got straight to the point. “How do you know Y/N?”

“Huh?” Namjoon was a little taken aback, but recovered quickly. “We’ve known each other for a little over a year. We dated for a few months, then we were friends.”

“Just friends?”

“We did sleep together occasionally. But we were both too scared of commitment to date seriously. Especially because I knew that if I date her, I would fall in too deep to ever be able to move on from her. I couldn’t do that to me, nor to her, not when I knew that she still loved you.”

Now it’s Seokjin’s turn to look incredulous.

“She does not love me.”

Namjoon smirks.

“Sure. That’s why she’s cried endless nights for you, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you left her.”

Seokjin is too surprised to continue.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue?” Namjoon scoffs again, but before Seokjin can recover his senses, he stepped out of the car. “If your little interrogation is over, I have somewhere to be. Talk to her. Goodbye.”

___

“To Y/N!” The menace known as your husband winks at you again, and you can’t help but choke on your wine as you drink to the toast he raised to you.

It’s been two months since your marriage, and your father insisted that you two host a two month-anniversary. You don’t know why you agreed to it, maybe because you didn’t want the rumours to come back. You wanted your marriage to last. At least in the eyes of the public. Not in your own life.

Everyone claps, and someone begins whistling, “Kiss! Kiss!” as if it’s a bloody kiss cam in a baseball match. Shockingly, everyone, including Hoseok, the Maknaes whom he brought along to the party, and Yoongi, join in the chant.

Jin’s lips twitch slightly. You know he doesn’t like this either, but when he leans in, you close your eyes and let him take over.

And take over he does.

He doesn’t let you breathe as he kisses you, his mouth slightly open, his breath sweet like roses, his tongue barely prying into your mouth but you part nonetheless because you like his gentle force on your small lips. His tongue swipes over your lips once, making you gasp and smile into the kiss. It’s a close like old times, you can taste the wine on your lips and you can’t help but want more.

“Y/N…” he whispers as he moves back slowly.

You bite your lower lip.

“I love you.”

It’s awful timing, and you almost miss the words. It slowly registers into you what he just said. And you breathe in, parting your mouth to stay something, but he interrupts you.

“And I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just stay silent. He looks at you in expectation, but there’s too much going on for you to comprehend. You’re overwhelmed, and right now the dominant emotion is one of extreme longing. So you do what your heart and body tells you to do, instead of what your brain asks you to do.

You pull his hand, and take him away from the banquet hall where you had organised the party. Once you’re outside on the isolated stairs, dimly lit and no one’s around you, Seokjin looks at you with confused eyes, looking like a tiny puppy. You smile in endearment, before pulling his lips into yours. And he doesn’t miss a beat.

“Y/N…”

“Shhhh…”

He kisses you harder, pushing you against the wall, your bare back hitting the cold stone, as his hands slide up your ribbons along your waist. You know how turned on he is by the growing force in his touch. When he pulls back, you’re unable to breathe, and you visibly pant. You’re sure your lipstick is ruined, and he smirks at you.

“Ramyeon meokgo gallae?”

___

You know that everyone back at the party must have a million questions, with the host couple disappearing in the middle of it. But you couldn’t care less. Not when his lips are on your neck, sucking and biting softly, and your hands are tangled in his smooth locks. You’re already turned on beyond control. It’s only now that it hits you with full force how much you had missed him. For the longest time, you had been too shy to expose your body to anyone else and tried to take care of your needs by yourself, the memories of Seokjin were too strong. But when you did allow someone else to touch you, you became reckless and thoughtless. You stopped caring about making love. It was just fucking someone new every weekend, and then moving on. Namjoon had threatened to change that, but he had stepped back in time. He knew that he would be the only one falling in love, and you did not want to break his heart.

But tonight brought back the memories of your first night with Seokjin. The night when you had lost your innocence and your heart forever to the one man who could make your heart warm with a simple smile and wash away all your worries with just a cute face.

He’s struggling to take off your dress, and you giggle at how concentrated he is, his eyebrows furrowed. “Seokjin-” “Hmm?” He looks at you, his gaze soft and tender.

“Can we take it slow?”

Realisation hits him like a storm. He steps back. “I’m so sorry-” “No!” “No, I’m sorry if I rushed you.” You cup his face in your palms. He continues to whisper apologies, but you press a kiss onto his lips to shut him up.

“Stop.”

He looks at you, his face small in your hand. He looks just like he did all those years ago, cute but handsome.

“No, let me explain.”

He takes your hand and brings you to the couch. You both sit down, your hands clasped in his own. “Let me explain why I left you in my last year of college.” You shake your head, not ready to ruin this moment, but he doesn't stop.

“When I started seeing you, I did not know who your father was. I was scared- when my mother took ill, I had to peddle drugs to continue my education and provide her with a decent treatment. When I found out that your father was a big-shot businessman, I had to detach myself from you. Because if he knew that we were together, he would’ve hurt you. And it was easier for me to see you hate me rather than hate everyone else around you because of me. But…” You stared at him, waiting. “Go on?”

“There’s, umm, more.”

“Yes?” You ask, your mind hazy with all the information.

“But I was not able to hide from your father. He found out about us, and he threatened to send me away from the country to separate us. I didn’t have any option but to move away from you. I’m sorry.” His voice wavers when he notices the silent tears falling from your eyes, you biting your lips.

“Y/N… don’t cry, please.”

“No no, but there’s something I don’t understand…”

“How I founded the startup and the story moved on till here?” You slowly nod your head. “When your father forced us away, I was hell-bent to take revenge. I needed to show him that I was worth his daughter’s hand in marriage, even if we never ended up together.”

You gasp. “So the scandal…?”

“When I disappeared and came back after a few years to start my company, you father had not recognised me at all whenever we met.” Seokjin laughs, “but I had never forgotten him. The scandal was a coincidence. But even if it hadn’t happened, I was determined to find my way back to you, Y/N.” He picks up your hand and kisses it softly, and you feel a single tear fall on your fingers.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

You have nothing to say, you’re rendered speechless. You simply lean forward to kiss his forehead, and stay like that for a while. “I’m sorry if I ruined the mood.” He chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh out loudly. It’s good to hear his high-pitched laugh after so long, and you look at him fondly. “I’m sorry too, Seokjin,for hurting you.” “Don’t apologise, love.” He hugs you gently, and you melt in his embrace.

“Thank you.” You whisper in his ear.

“For?”

“Spoiling the mood. We needed to have this talk now. We can always do the nasty later.” He laughs out again, your bodies shaking. He presses a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you, baby.”

You smile, your heart finally at peace.

“I love you too, Seokjin.”

#kim seokjin #bts #bts fanfic #bts ff #bts fanfiction #romance #jin #bts jin #angst #ramyeon meokgo gallae?#seokjin #seokjin x you #bts seokjin #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin angst #seokjin smut #bts x reader

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nayadefenix · 6 months

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Now it's a serious matter, I wanted to share with you, about Bullyng, but before you ask, no the haters left me alone, but an annoying thing has been happening lately in Brazil and all over the world, and the fact that the victim of Bullyng retaliates against the aggressions by commenting massacres avenging in a wrong way. There are some cases where people are involved in these cases who agree with the ideas of a certain German man from 1945, well, this was shown on Brazilian television. So, if you have been bullied, tell your parents, teachers and school directors, if they ignore it or do little to learn about self-defence, don't seek revenge, don't access bad websites or groups with bad messages, parents, be more attentive to your children, watch their purses, mobile phones, teach them to respect others by not making fun of anyone, participate in your child's school life.

Those who do this should know that it's not funny, it's not nice to hurt people, they can even take their own life or freak out and end yours. this is childish and wrong, so be careful and pay attention to your surroundings. because nowadays parents send their children to school and then pick them up at the funeral home ;-;

Omissive parents who prefer to stay on their mobile phone screens instead of welcoming their child, if their child comes home and says "Dad, I'm having problems at school" or "I'm tired of school" they say "What are you tired of? You don't do anything, you just study!" or "Problems? I'm the one who has to work and put food on the table" and so on. I'm a victim of bullying and I didn't get much support, but the aunts at the schools tried to help me and punished the aggressors, but they didn't follow through because their parents were all over them. It's horrible not to be welcomed and horrible to be humiliated and to stop doing something you love.

Now comes the bombshell: they blame video games for making young people violent, and I'm like, what? the first rejection occurs in the home where we should be listened to, counselled and heard, it seems that parents don't care about their children's education these days.

And to make matters worse, the after-effects are lifelong, so don't do it, if you see someone practising it, stay away from them and tell the headmaster or teacher at school. it's horrible!

be careful family, don't practise this no one is better than anyone else, if you have a colleague who is quietly isolated in his room be attentive to him, don't reject him. be careful schools nowadays are only for God!

@imjustthatweird

@ijumpbridges

@chemsart

@arson-jellyfish69

@who-is-this-weirdo

@cupinho

@supergalatic-cat

@anonimas-nominadas

#brasil #no bullyng #stop bullying #bullying

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boricuacherry-blog · 2 months

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Picture: Celina's parents, Lynn and CJ

Celina's mother, who got a divorce, had kept her away from her father, due to drug addiction, domestic violence issues, and the church he belonged to, which she thought was a cult. However, when her mother died due to a fatal aneurysm, her father CJ gained custody of her. He said he was now clean and sober. When he obtained custody, Lynn's side of the family were able to speak to her less and less. Due to the church he was in, where his sister and Celina's aunt Cerita Smith preached, Celina was left very isolated. Former church members said Cerita ruled the church through fear. Her methods were unorthodox enough to result in the loss of her minister's license from a mainstream Christian denomination years back.

Picture: the Crestview home Celina disappeared from

Most of the members of the small Pentecostal church not only worked in the church, led by Reverend Cerita Smith, but were also all somehow connected. Most of the members worshipped at the church and also worked there, while living in communal homes. In the home Celina lived in, 15 people also stayed there - CJ, his wife, their 4-year-old daughter (Celina's younger half-sister) Noreal, her aunt Cerita, Cerita's husband, her five children, grandchildren, and members who weren't related, but were part of the congregation.

Because of the strict rules of the church, Celina no longer could watch certain TV shows or cartoons, and she was pulled out of her public school and homeschooled.

Despite this, she became pregnant at 11. Evette Mays, who is CJ's wife and the church secretary, said in a television interview that she tried to counsel Celina against being flirtatious with men when the child was 10 or 11. "Even the pastor would counsel her," Evette said. "Celina made bad choices."

When she turned 12 and was nine months pregnant, around when she was to give birth, she disappeared. Evette called CJ and asked if he had seen Celina; he said he hadn't. But neither of them called police. Her father claimed he thought she ran away because, according to him, when the baby was born, a paternity test would be done to determine who the father was. And, also according to him, she didn't want anyone to know. The day she disappeared, CJ waited another 24 hours before finally alerting police, choosing to walk into the police station rather than calling. But when he talked to them, he neglected to mention she was pregnant. Police only found that out later.

After she disappeared, news also went around that Cerita's 23-year-old son, Sean Smith, was arrested for assaulting two minor girls at their church. Sean was also among more than a dozen church members who lived at the Crestview drive house at the time of Celina's disappearance. The house was owned by Cerita. Rumors circulated that maybe Sean had also assaulted Celina, or even, possibly, her own father. But her father denied these rumors, saying he couldn't have gotten his daughter pregnant because he "had a vasectomy."

Authorities also found it odd how almost from the beginning, Celina's father and paternal side of the family appeared to be at odds with them, complicating the search for the missing girl.

"Normally families are breaking our door down to find out what's new in the investigation," one Willingboro officer grumbled. "This family we have to ask to come in."

Noreal said Celina's name was barely mentioned at all in the family after she disappeared.

Celina is still missing today.

#true crime #celina mays #missing #willingboro #new jersey #1996 #90s #unsolved

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gatekeeper-watchman · 1 month

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Devotionals for March 21, 2024

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 12:5-7(KJV): 5 The thoughts of the righteous are right: but the counsels of the wicked are deceit. 6 The words of the wicked are to lie in wait for blood: but the mouth of the upright shall deliver them. 7 The wicked are overthrown, and are not: but the house of the righteous shall stand.

Thought for the Day

Verse 5 - The book of Proverbs contrasts the thoughts and words of the righteous with those of the wicked. Looking at these verses carefully, we notice the progression of sin and righteousness. Both of them first proceed from the heart. Next, they become thoughts in the mind and finally are manifested in our actions. Sin begins in a man's heart; first, a man will have thoughts about the sin, then his mouth will speak of those sins, and finally, he will commit those sins. The same is true of righteousness; it also proceeds from the heart and forms righteous thoughts. As a man speaks of those thoughts, he will finally act upon them and bring them forth as righteous deeds.

Jesus confirms this in Mark 7:20-23: "And he said, That which cometh out of the man, that defileth the man. For from within, out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts, adulteries, fornications, murders, Thefts, covetousness, wickedness, deceit, lasciviousness, an evil eye, blasphemy, pride, foolishness: All these evil things come from within, and defile the man."

The Bible tells us that all people tend to sin. How can we have a change of heart and be free from sin? We can be free only by being born again. We must confess our sins to God, acknowledge that Jesus Christ died in our place to pay the penalty for our sins, ask His forgiveness, and invite Him to come into our lives and give us new hearts. As we surrender our lives to God, the Holy Spirit breaks sin's power over us. "...So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus. Let not sin reign in your mortal bodies, to make you obey their passions. Do not yield your members to sin as instruments of wickedness, but yield yourselves to God as men who have been brought from death to life, and your members to God as instruments of righteousness" (Romans 6:9-13 RSV).

Verse 6 - Though the wicked plot is murder, the righteous can prevent it through prayer. Speaking God's protection over a situation can destroy the plans of the wicked and establish the righteous. "No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD..." (Isaiah 54:17a). Psalm 91 contains many promises of God's protection that we can pray aloud for others or ourselves.

Verse 7 - To walk in righteousness so that our "houses will stand," we must keep our minds on the things of God; guarding our hearts. As we saw above, sin is produced in the heart. Satan tries to enter through our "eye and ear gates." We must be careful of what we expose ourselves to on television, the Internet, and in books. Parents should monitor these, along with video games and music. It is not a sin to have an evil thought; it is a sin to consider it and dwell upon it. We can resist evil thoughts with God's Word (James 4:6-7). For instance, if tempted to covet, we can resist it by remembering the commandments not to covet (Exodus 20:17) and to be content with what God has given us (Hebrews 13:5). We can also remember that the Lord desires to bless all His children: He will bless us in due time if we are not jealous of others.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear Father God, I am grateful for all the times that Your hand of protection has been over my family. Thank You! Help me to keep my thoughts on good things and take those things out of my heart that are not like You. Forgive me when I dwell upon wrong thoughts and fail to resist the devil immediately. I do want a clean heart and a pure mind. Help me to resist the evil that is in the world and keep my thoughts on edifying things. Lord, I pray for all the Christian parents raising their children in this crooked generation. Give them wisdom and love as they instruct their children in Your ways. Remove rebellion from the hearts of people whose thinking is perverted. Protect our children in the schools and on the streets. Have mercy on us and give us Your grace to be good examples to our children and young people we know. In Jesus' name, I ask. Amen. From: Steven P. Miller @ParkermillerQ, gatekeeperwatchman.org Founder of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups, Wednesday, March 20, 2024, Jacksonville, Florida., USA. X ... @ParkermillerQ #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #Ephraim1, #IAM, #Sparkermiller, #Eldermiller1981 GROUP: https://www.facebook.com/groups/Sparkermiller.JAX.FL.USA

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 11 months

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To Stop Tucker, Fox News Rallies Lawyers

Fox: Carlson Breached Contract With Twitter Show

By Solange Reyner | Wednesday, 07 June 2023 07:03 PM EDT

Fox News said former host Tucker Carlson breached his contract Tuesday when he released the first episode of his new show on Twitter, reported Axios.

"This evening we were made aware of Mr. Tucker Carlson's appearance on Twitter in a video that lasted over 10 minutes," Fox News general counsel Bernard Gugar said in a letter to Carlson's lawyers.

"Pursuant to the terms of the Agreement, Mr. Carlson's 'services shall be completely exclusive to Fox,'" it continued, quoting Carlson's contract.

Gugar also said Carlson was "prohibited from rendering services of any type whatsoever, whether 'over the internet via streaming or similar distribution, or other digital distribution whether now known or hereafter devised.'"

Carlson's legal team told Axios that any legal action by Fox would violate his First Amendment rights.

"Fox defends its very existence on freedom of speech grounds. Now they want to take Tucker Carlson's right to speak freely away from him because he took to social media to share his thoughts on current events," said Carlson's lawyer, Bryan Freedman.

Carlson's new show, "Tucker on Twitter," garnered about 80 million views by 2 p.m. Wednesday.

The former Fox News host, in a roughly 10-minute video posted Tuesday and captioned "Ep. 1," claimed that Ukraine was to blame for the destruction of a massive dam in Russian-occupied territory that caused widespread flooding.

The onetime top-rated talk show host on U.S. cable television said he hoped Twitter would be the "short-wave radio under the blankets" with "no gatekeepers."

Fox News Media and Carlson, then its top-rated host, "agreed to part ways" in late April, less than a week after parent company Fox Corp. settled a defamation lawsuit for $787.5 million.

#tucker carlson #fox news

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parkduris · 9 months

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HELLO! ! ! anth here, coming at you live, from your area! i come from the eastern timezone, he/him pronouns, and am currently twenty-six years old! i'm here to introduce you to one of my favorite people in the entire world, my son, the light of my life, park duri! he's better known simply as duri when it comes to the entertainment industry. he's a singer, songwriter-producer, model, & television personality! he's your friendly neighborhood puppy, big ol' sunshine, and much like a teddy bear. without further ado, on with the show! please like this post if you'd like to plot!

as just a friendly reminder, there will be mentions of a car accident, parental death, injury, post-traumatic stress disorder, and a few other things. however, everything will be properly tagged if you'd like to skip those parts!

duri is born on december 25th, 2000 at 9:48pm in seoul, south korea! his parents were both unmarried college students at the time of his birth, something that was completely out of the norm. but, the park and oh families never quite seemed to be normal, in some sense. they were responsible, however, and very much in love. he comes from the itaewon neighborhood of seoul.

spends a lot of time with his grandparents and family when he's really young, simply because bongju and aeri are very busy with college, and they often took the reigns of raising him in the evening and on the weekends - while doing their education and jobs, just to make sure they could fully take care of their son.

after they graduate, they wed in 2004 when duri is three years old. it's a spring wedding, right at the peak of the cherry blossom season. a time full of happiness and duri not really knowing what was going on, but he enjoyed every moment of it because he was with his parents for the majority of the ceremony. it's a nice memory, sweet for everyone in attendance.

CAR ACCIDENT TW, PARENTAL DEATH TW, INJURY TW // it's 2006, duri's five, and he's on the way to school, in the car, with his parents. it's like any spring morning, though it's a cold day like spring mornings tend to be with the winter chill still working its way out - but, it was a normal, usual morning for the park family... until it wasn't. they're struck by another car that morning and it ends up being pretty bad - taking the lives of both of his parents, duri would injure his leg, and he was the only one essentially able to be saved by a college student and other bystanders that saw it happen. // END TW.

following this, his uncle, bongki, and aunt, choa, would ultimately end up taking responsibility for duri, becoming his legal guardians. they didn't want bongju and bongki's parents or aeri's parents to have to worry about taking care of the young boy; especially with the fact that he was a handful now (more in the sense of mental and physical state.) between running the successful café and things of that nature, they would be able to care for duri, and give him the care he would so desperately need for a while.

they would make his room in that apartment above the successful café, heart and seoul, really nice, and comfortable, and give him the things that he wants; he needs. it's somewhere that becomes a safe haven, even if sometimes at night, it felt like it was anything but. but, he'll always be fond of his childhood bedroom in that apartment because of how much love his uncle and aunt had put into it.

PTSD TW, INJURY TW, ANXIETY TW // duri was a bit of a handful following the accident, simply because they couldn’t fully tell what was wrong with him, besides for the leg injury that was being cared for with physical therapy. they would soon learn that he suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder and anxiety from the accident, causing him to have to go into therapy, as well as grief counseling to help him to process everything and get better. duri, would attend therapy for many years to really help him out. though, he still has a lot of synonyms to this day of both ptsd and anxiety that seemingly won’t go away. // END TW.

INJURY TW // the injury that duri received to his leg was something that would be a bit bothersome every now and then, especially when he would overwork the leg. but, he would say it isn’t too, too bad, truth be told - he can deal with it, even though it can be really bothersome. he’s kind of just… ignored it, but physical therapy had helped and later, working out would help pretty often too. but, it’s still something that’s bothersome and he should really look after it, but he tends to just work through it, truth be told. // END TW.

when he's young, he gets super into music. it's almost out of nowhere, but he was always someone that just really liked music. so, bongki and choa - as well as the rest of the family - decided to really curate this interest of duri's. instead of going to cram school, he was going to a music and vocal academy - he'd learn piano, violin, and guitar, as well as take vocal classes. he loves it, it's all he wants to do, truth be told, it was clear he was meant to do this.

he was good at school, truth be told; he was always studying, relying on himself to do so because he wasn't attending cram school or any type of academic academies, considering he traded it for music and vocal. he was always known as the rather friendly, sweet, kind, and nice kid in school, he was friends with every person. this was something that caused duri to always be the class representative each year in school because of the fact that he got good grades, and he was friends with everyone. though, a lot of the time he was kind of walked over and used because the teachers really liked duri, so students easily got things.

duri surprises a lot of people at school, too, during a talent show when the big voice comes out of the kid who's always doing his work, the nice kid, the reliable, diligent kid. he's scouted here at the talent show, but he doesn't actually believe anyone is who they actually say they are; so, he never does anything with the scouts information.

at age fourteen, in 2015, duri opens up a youtube channel, duri's record shop. he had just gotten equipment to do this a month prior and he was really excited. he uses this channel to upload song covers, since he's just always really loves to sing, this was an outlet outside of talent shows and vocal classes. he gets channel subs and views; as well as a decent amount of comments that he answers. but, duri isn't an influencer or anything of that nature because he didn't have a consistent upload schedule.

as a teenager, he's kind of really ambitious, truth be told; he was already doing a lot. but, as a teenager is when duri gets about 6 certifications to his name. he gets level 10 certifications in piano, violin, and guitar. he achieves level 5 certifications in english and japanese as well, two languages he had been learning since he was young. as a teenager, as well, he also gets his hands on a vocal teaching certification. so, as you can see, duri's kind of always liked the adventure of learning and diving head first in those kinds of things. ambitious in some sort of sense, but he really just loved those things and he was constantly just learning them; especially when he couldn't sleep.

in october of 2017, duri uploads a brand new cover to his youtube channel. he decides to cover his all-time favorite, i will always love you by whitney houston. he did the same routine he always did, recording the song in the corner of his birthday, before editing the video on his bed on his laptop, and then uploading it. he thinks nothing of it, as he usually does, and then a week later... all of a sudden, it had blown up. he gets a bunch of comments, views, subs, and everything in between. he does his best to respond to as much as he can.

this viral hit is something that causes duri to receive a lot of people trying to scout him, love calls if you will. though he ends up accepting secret garden's offer due to the promise of debut.

he attends somewhat of a private audition with his uncle and aunt soon after accepting their offer, going through all the ropes, before signing upon the dotted line.

he's thrust into preparations for a debut as a soloist. in truth, he kind of always thought he was going to be a group member when he dreamed of this life. but, he's more than okay with being a soloist because of the type of music he'll be doing. not to mention, it's clear secret garden wanted to utilize the vocals that he holds. he debuts on january 1st, 2018 with the mini album, at gwanghwamun.

duri writes, composes, and produces all of his tracks. only about two of them are composed and produced by him, rather than written, and those are the ones that are covers of songs, rather than originals.

he's a rather strong vocalist; he's got a voice that's really made for ballads and really just power vocal songs. which is all of the songs that duri really tends to do, they stay in that realm of using his incredible vocals; which he's really happy because duri just loves to sing, and loves to really show off his voice. honestly it just really makes him happy??

luckily, with the type of music duri does as a soloist, he doesn't have to dance. which he's kind of really thankful for because he's almost kind of insecure about it? plus, he'd rather not have his leg really flare up from such movement. though, he does know a good amount of dancing and you could get him in on the tiktok challenges. but, there's really only a few times he'll actually be a dancer and all that.

duri's a very sweet guy. he's super kind, rather friendly, and can be a bit talkative. he's super bubbly, someone who kind of just giggles a lot because it's almost like it needs to get out. he's definitely charming in those type of ways; the way he's super kind, sweet, bubbly, friendly, reliable, helpful, and all that stuff. he's everything sugar, to put it simply. honestly, he's really just a soft guy!!

a bit of a crier like a lot of his emotions just come out as crying. though it's also because there's just that part of him that's a bit gloomy because of the trauma, that's neither here nor there. he definitely cried big time on every single award and stuff that he's won.

he's a happy boy, even though sometimes he has a hard time with his mental health. in a sense, he kind of masks his bad days with how he usually is, especially because he doesn't want to burden anyone with his own things.

holds the energy of a puppy, but also is the sun that's shining down. he's a super bright person. honestly, there's not one mean bone in his body, he doesn't even know the definition of being mean.

will 100% try to be your friend, not even gonna lie. he's just a real friendly guy, probably believes you're friends with him after one conversation!

his image is definitely just his own personality, truth be told. there's really no other way for duri to be. on top of being known as the sweet, bubbly, friendly, nice guy to the public - he also holds an approachability image, a born to be an idol image, as well as a good leader image.

duri lives by himself in what could probably be considered a humble apartment? it's an apartment with a loft that has one bedroom (though, it's probably in a more luxury apartment building in a sense.) however, duri's designed it to have his bedroom on the loft and he uses the bedroom as more of like an office/library and where his music stuff is. he's lived in the apartment for 5 years, and his family had paid for the apartment until he started making his own profit. he could probably get a much bigger apartment, but he's very much into his current apartment.

big time collector of cute things, he really likes cute things. so, he's got a lot of plushies and stuff like that, considering they're really just his favorite.

he's a big-time plant and flower person, so he's got a lot of plants around because he feels it brings life and greenery to a place. they make him happy.

big time book reader as well, so he's got a lot of books, and you can probably often see him reading books as well at random times. sometimes, he really just likes the quiet time and escaping into books, in some sense of it.

duri really likes playing video games that are labeled as "cozy" truth be told. so, things like animal crossing, stardew valley, etcetera. anything that's kind of relaxing, in some sense, duri is all about. that's really the only video games that he tends to know, truth be told. though, he can also really come through on fifa games as well.

he's 100% a shower singer. has full on whitney houston, beyoncé, kelly clarkson, mariah carey, celine dion, anyone who's released taeyeon songs, little mix, angelic songs, eternal songs, and various ballad concerts (of course among other songs) in the shower.

has an alcohol allergy. so, he tends to avoid anything with alcohol because of it. meaning alcohol itself (which is fine because duri is not big on nightlife at all), medication containing it, and a lot of stuff. it kills him that he has to avoid things that contain gochujang paste due to the meju-garu - aka, anything fermented is a no-go.

duri is really, really big on cooking. it's one of his favorite things to do, something that he's pretty good at. when he can, he's often just the one who cooks meals because he prefers to do something of that nature. though, of course, he doesn't get to do it as often with how busy schedules are. but, he does often crave a home-cooked meal.

one thing to note is that duri has some pretty bad claustrophobia. so, if you take an elevator with him, you might notice that he has a bit of a habit where he stands in the back corner, closing his eyes, and sings to himself when the doors close; placing his mind elsewhere to pretend he's not inside the elevator. it's probably a bit odd, but it helps.

very very gay. that's it, that's the tweet.

duri has gotten lucky with secret garden, to be honest. he's written, produced, and composed every single solo song that he's released. getting the chance to do something like this has really meant a lot to him, especially in a company like secret garden; but, he's glad he has a good relationship with the company and they've entrusted him to do. would really like to write songs for others as well in the future.

duri's done a lot of different things in his career. of course, he has his career as a soloist that's pretty successful. though, he sits at 4 in fame currently and a 2 in fandom - simply because his fandom is kind of mainly old people (whom are dedicated and spending money) and a few of the people around his age who just like his music + the variety shows he appears on. his fame kind of is really on the hands of the general public who likes his music and will watch his shows.

he's had a few osts, such as "told you so" from where stars land, "but, it's destiny" from crash landing on you, "start over" from itaewon class, and "breath" from doctor cha.

duri's also made his japanese debut in december of 2022! he wrote, composed, and produced all of the songs on the album, human (by max changmin), the cover of put your records on, he's completely composed and produced himself.

has had a few different main castings as well and some other great feats, like winning 6 times in a row on king of masked singer.

anyways, he's a good boy <3 i really, really love park duri and i love writing him sm i'm so excited :") this got way too long i'm so sorry!! but, thank you for reading this far!

#thefourintro #╰ ♡ filed under: about.#my apologies about the formating of this tumblr is working against me when it comes to bullet points

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jbird5x5 · 6 months

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Devastated by the news of the passing of Actor Matthew Perry (1969-2023)

Matthew Perry, who starred as sarcastic-but-sweet Chandler Bing in the hit series “Friends,” has died.

He was 54.

The Emmy-nominated actor was found dead of an apparent drowning at his Los Angeles home.

Perry, the son of actor John Bennett Perry and Suzanne Marie Langford, onetime press secretary of Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau, was born August 19, 1969 and grew up between Montreal and Los Angeles after his parents separated when Perry was 1.

He got his start as a child actor, landing guest spots on “Charles in Charge” and “Beverly Hills 90210” and playing opposite River Phoenix in the film “A Night in the Life of Jimmy Reardon” in the 1980s and early 1990s.

While Perry was best known for his role in Friends, he appeared in scores of other television shows — including Studio 60 and the Sunset Strip, The Good Wife, and the revived The Odd Couple — and comedic films, including Fools Rush In, The Whole Nine Yards, Three to Tango, The Kid, and many more movies.

Perry received one Emmy nomination for his “Friends” role and two more for appearances as an associate White House counsel on “The West Wing.

Perry was not married and had no children.

My Condolences to Family and Friends

#R.I.P. 😔👏🥀

#celeb

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truthseeker-blogger · 1 year

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*An update*

We had a Thanksgiving 🦃 even though hubby initially didn't feel like it.

Thankful 🙏 to the food pantry at our local church and their generous donations for us to have a holiday meal.

Hubby was grateful later on that I chose to try to do things as normal as much as possible.

We went to counseling the day before. The therapist gave some coping skills regarding how to tell the brain it's safe and the floor isn't really moving.

He's experiencing a post trauma response of his brain trying to keep him safe from danger.

Next week, the therapist will be helping with the feelings of helplessness, as well as the hurt feelings from lack of support from family members.

See, I grew up with 7 siblings. Dad never believed in credit.

Dad would never buy anything unless he had the money for it first. He taught us to be self sufficient.

We were very poor. I recall the pink outhouse, the two wells for water.

We were taught it was up to ourselves to take care of ourselves and any situation we may be in.

So it's been difficult for me to swallow my pride and have a GoFundMe account.

Difficult for hubby as he feels it's his job to take care of us.

My siblings are of the mentality, this too shall pass, and haven't offered any monetary support or emotional support, which is the most hurtful.

The one thing I can say. My son and hubby's daughter have stepped up, and so very proud of them both. 💜💜

The accident has actually repaired a fractured father daughter relationship that hubby didn't think would ever happen, and I'm so very happy for them both! 🙏❤

Other coping skills are to be in the moment. I told the therapist, I try to find the joy, especially with my son, who is still recovering from a concussion from hitting his head on his metal couch frame.

He already had a brain trauma from 5 years ago, so it's something to be mindful of.

This time of year can be difficult after losing both my parents, a nephew, a niece, and then my son's father, just last year, all gone within 4 years.

I returned the internet router and turned off our tv app. Hubby will just have to use over the air television for entertainment.

It really is a luxury, as there is no income to justify having it.

It just would have given him more options as a distraction from his mind ruminating over the deck collapse.

His pain is a reminder of the accident, so it's difficult for him to forget about the incident.

We haven't had too many bites on selling our things, but I did sell a tv series on ebay.

Unfortunately, since I haven't sold anything on there, they are holding funds until December 9th.

I still had to ship the item and I had offered free shipping because it makes for an easier sale, so I had to use our money to do so.

Ebay is taking $15 out of the sale for listing an item.

I wish any further sales to go through facebook marketplace because there are no fees involved.

I am again actively searching for a part time job once again because the realty business has just about dried up. Not many sale of homes this time of year.

Funds have dwindled after buying propane gas to stay warm, (still waiting on our application for heating assistance) paying the vehicle repairs, doctor and physical therapy copays, 2 car payments because we received notice they would take action to repossess it (no time for the attorney to do anything to stop that at the moment), auto insurance and cell phone service, there's next to no money left.

Hubby only has 4 hours emergency sick leave left.

There are no other programs available through his employer the USPS.

We are still very grateful 🙏 for those on our journey for their support, whether monetary or emotional support, to help us along during this difficult juncture in our life.

It sincerely helps propel us along and we will get through this one way or another.

Thank you all once again for your generous donations on our gofundme account!!!

We never expected to have received what we have so far! 🙏🙏🙏❤❤❤💐💐

THANK YOU!!!

❤❤❤🙏🙏🙏

💐💐💐💐💐💐

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birchkillchronicles · 1 year

Text

Getting to Marigold

Chapter One

Mushroom, Raw Umber, Tobacco

A mole’s nest.

A dark, stuffy mole’s nest.

That’s what Bernie’s bedroom is, sniffed Jeanie Dinmont.

A dark, stuffy mole’s nest where—for the last fourteen years!—my daughter has chosen to burrow her silly head.

Gazing around the offending room, Jeanie was stumped.

Why, she wondered for the trillionth time, had Bernie—back when she was a cantankerous sixteen-year-old—cruelly demanded that they chuck the lovely ivory-and-cream French Provincial décor—with pops of cherry-blossom-pink!—which her mom had so lovingly designed?

And for what?

For the Gothic-Victorian-techno mishmash of her current dismal lair?

What a waste of effort! Jeanie had mourned at the time. And, frankly, she hadn’t seen the need to let Bernie have her own selfish adolescent way. In her opinion, the sweetly feminine bedroom had been perfect for a young lady of tender years and, at the time, she’d wished that her daughter would just leave it alone.

Yes, well…

As Jeanie’s mother would say, ‘If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.’

The hollow-eyed teen had moped and sighed and sulked and pined, until—bowing to her best friend Sylvie’s parenting advice—Jeanie had yielded to Bernie’s unfathomable desire to transition her room into a ‘more grown-up space.’

Still—loathe to give up all aesthetic control—Jeanie had energetically counselled her daughter on how to curate her attic retreat.

“Now, kidlet—with these small windows and sloping ceilings,” she’d cautioned, “you’ll want to keep everything light. A neutral palette is the ticket here. So, if I were you, I’d switch out those ivory pieces with a blond Danish-modern suite. And then freshen up that matte cream wall paint with a semi-gloss buttermilk hue...”

But had her daughter listened?

Nope.

Not a chance.

Stubbornly insisting on her own dour notions for the space, Bernie had pushed her perplexed mother to repaint and then cram far too much dark-walnut furniture against stodgy mushroom-gray walls.

Next—during an increasingly rare mother-and-daughter shopping jaunt to Sears—the cranky teen had opted for equally bleak soft furnishings.

Then, she’d staged a weekend hunger strike—which her scrawny body could barely abide—in order to gain a plush area rug in a regrettable shade of raw umber.

And, to complete the desecration, she’d insisted that her pleasant sitting area be transformed into a video gaming lounge!

So, now, an olive-drab duvet smothered the heavy Victorian double bed. A battleship-grey slipcover obscured what had once been a delicate ladderback desk chair. And over Bernie’s flat television screen lurked ugly posters featuring the sombre wizards, pointy-eared boys and snarling white wolves from her ghastly video games.

The window treatments were no better.

Inky-black roller shades masked every pane. And tobacco-brown curtains shrouded each implacable shade so that Bernie could never be startled awake by even the slightest stray hint of rosy dawn.

No sunlight. No birdsong. No air…

Gee whiz, grimaced Jeanie. I’d go mad if—even for a single night!—I had to endure this frumpy old nest. Let alone for the past fourteen years…

Still—once she’d let Sylvie persuade her to allow the gawky girl dress her third-storey refuge to her own leaden taste—Jeanie had to concede that her best friend had been right.

Concede that Sylvie had understood far better how to assuage the pain of Bernie’s murky adolescence and her ensuing prickly twenties than Jeanie had ever wanted to.

Concede that Sylvie—a seasoned campaigner in the teenage wars with her flamboyant son, Nick—had been entirely correct when she’d warned Jeanie to forfeit the small battles to Bernie and save her energy for the big conflicts to come.

Yes, but—

Where was Sylvie now?

Gone.

Gone forever…

And that, decided Jeanie—vigorously refusing to be slurped into an insidious bog of regret—that abandonment, no matter how involuntary, certainly meant that now—right now!—Jeanie was allowed to decide for herself that enough was enough!

With her usual deliberate stride, she wooshed across the deep-piled rug to the window, threw back the heavy curtains, snapped up the roller shade and wrenched open the double hung window.

A waft of mid-July heat met the chill of the air-conditioning and died on the sill.

“Jessica Bernadette Todd!” she carolled in her cheeriest voice. “Rise and shine!”

Beneath the heavy duvet, a slight figure stirred. Then, an unaccountably tidy head of dark-brown hair turned to reveal hazel-grey eyes peering dully out of a small pale-white face.

“Mom.”

With that single word, Bernie neatly expressed everything she wanted to say.

Don’t fool around with my window. Leave me alone. Go away.

Jeanie decided to ignore it all.

“The day’s a-wasting!” she chirped. “It’s time to greet the sun!”

Her beloved kidlet—never ‘Jessica’ since that September afternoon when she’d announced that, with three other Jessicas in her fifth grade class, she would henceforth be known as ‘Bernie’—dropped a limp hand over to her bedside table to consult her phone.

“Mom.”

It’s only nine-thirty on a Sunday morning. Close my drapes. Leave me alone.

Bernie’s pallid face swivelled inexorably back towards the wall.

Jeanie decided to ignore that too.

Leaving the window wide open, she nipped over to her daughter. Tugging off the unspeakable duvet to reveal Bernie’s frail powder-blue flannel-wrapped back, she plopped herself down on the bedside for a bracing chat.

“Look, Bernie—” Jeanie began. “If our loopy-neighbour-from-three-doors-down, Lindy Styre, can get over herself long enough to write a summer play, you can get over yourself long enough to get up and go see it.”

Bernie’s hibernation remained undisturbed.

“Oh, for pity’s sake, kidlet!” Jeanie continued, relentlessly. “According to the radio, Loopy Lindy’s done such a cracker-jack job, her theatre group’s gone and scheduled a whole extra matinee in the Glebe today! Now, the show starts at one. And I know that—if you stop for breakfast—it’ll take you at least an hour to get up and out. So, I thought that, after you’ve had your shower and got dressed, we’d hike over to Starbucks for our coffee and then trot across the Bank Street Bridge. Once we’re in the Glebe, we’ll pick up a snack—and then window-shop our way up to the park—”

Heaving a deep-dark sigh, Bernie flopped back over to confront her intolerably perky parent. “Mom. There was a headline in the Old Ottawa South paper that said Excursion Theatre’s coming to Windsor Park in early August. Why can’t we go then? It’s not as if this matinee’s a case of now-or-never.”

Delighted with this multi-sentence response, Jeanie seized upon her daughter’s argument with gusto. “See? You’re planning to go see Loopy Lindy’s play. Why not take advantage of this lovely golden day? That August date could be rained out and then we’d miss everything!”

“Mom—”

“So why not sling our folding chairs over our shoulders and march on down through the Glebe? We’ll buy fresh bagels, and it’ll be so much fun—!”

“Mom—” groaned Bernie, attempting to retreat beneath her bedclothes once more.

But Jeanie had scented victory in her daughter’s former lengthy reply.

“Oh no, you don’t!” she laughed, wrestling the awful duvet from Bernie’s feeble grasp and tossing it to the floor. “We’re overdue for a Girls Day Out! So, get cracking, kidlet! And I’ll go rustle up those chairs…”

Filled with happy purpose, Jeanie scampered down two flights of stairs to her blond maple kitchen. There, her husband, Donald Todd—an unpretentious man in his late sixties who’d recently retired from the Federal civil service—sat on a caramel-leather-upholstered stool at the pink-granite-topped kitchen island. He was just as fair-skinned as Bernie and three inches shorter than his long-limbed wife of almost forty-two years. And, as he sipped his second cup of coffee, he was puzzling through the cryptic crossword from yesterday morning’s paper.

Always the intellectual, thought Jeanie, indulgently. Can’t simply do the regular crossword like the rest of us mortals…

Don had popped his golf shirt collar up on one side, so Jeanie straightened it out for him. Then, planting an airy kiss on his greying temple, she offered, coyly, “You’ll be glad to hear that your devoted wife and darling daughter won’t be underfoot for most of the day.”

“But I’ll miss you both so sadly,” returned Don, evenly. Without even a glance his wife’s way, he filled a long word into his puzzle grid.

“We’re having a Girls Day Out. No men allowed!” Jeanie brightly informed him as she disappeared into their recently refreshed mudroom. There, she pulled a couple of bagged folding chairs out of the closet and leant them against the wall. Now, she thought with satisfaction, those will be close at hand...

Returning to the kitchen, she double-checked that the box for today’s date on the Inuit art wall calendar was empty. She wanted to fill it in with the lively acronym ‘GDO!’ But where was the pen that ought to be laying on the shelf nearby?

“Don,” she asked, “have you seen the calendar pen?”

“Mmm…what?”

“The calendar pen. The one that we always leave here on the shelf.”

The pen wasn’t on the counter. It hadn’t been knocked to the floor. So where was the calendar pen?

Had somebody moved it on purpose?

Jeanie felt a buzz of frustration arise in her mind.

“Not this one, is it?” Still concentrating on his crossword, Don waved the pen he was using at her. “I found it over there somewhere.”

Jeanie’s mouth pursed in to a strained smile.

“You know, Don,” she admonished her husband, as if spelling out an indisputable fact to a little child, “you should leave the calendar pen where it belongs. Then—whenever we need it—we won’t have to search all over the house.”

“Sorry, dear.” Don kept reading his puzzle clues and, again, didn’t bother to look up at his wife.

“And I know that you don’t mean to be careless. But it doesn’t take much to throw everything into disarray.” Jeanie didn’t like to be a nag. And since it was only about a month ago that Don had reluctantly retired from the long days of his government career, he could be forgiven for not being on board with her household routines. But there was a limit to her patience. “If you start picking up stuff at random and just using it for whatever, pretty soon the whole system will be in a shambles.”

Don nodded thoughtfully and wrote another answer. “As soon as I’m finished, I’ll put it back,” he said. And—although her fingers itched to grab the pen out of his selfish hand—from long experience with her husband’s talent for sly evasion, Jeanie knew that she had to be content with that.

Restlessly, she surveyed the kitchen. What other mischief had Don been up to? There weren’t any of his used breakfast dishes cluttering up the counter or the sink, so she unobtrusively checked in the dishwasher to see if he’d put them away correctly.

Aha! Don’s cereal bowl was in the appropriate slot on the bottom rack. But he’d stuck his juice glass in the widest row of the upper…

Juice glasses go in the narrow outer row, frowned Jeanie. Any fool should know that.

With an air of great tolerance, she lifted the offending glass and placed it in its proper spot. Then she snapped the dishwasher closed and, with a pen selected out of her cache in her kitchen junk drawer, wrote ‘GDO!’ in today’s calendar box.

With her good mood restored, Jeanie placed the substitute pen on the designated shelf and turned to Don with an unfeigned smile. “Don’t you wonder where your girls are going?”

Don glanced up briefly from his puzzle and took a swig of coffee. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll eventually tell me,” he said.

“We’re off to see that play that Lindy Styre wrote.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s got great reviews, and they’re doing a matinee today in the Glebe. So, Bernie and I thought we’d give it a peek.”

“Great.” Don’s slate-blue eyes drifted back to his crossword.

“It’s supposed to be really funny.”

“No doubt.” He picked up the ex-calendar pen again and wrote.

“But you can’t come with us—”

“Mm-hm…”

“—because we’re having an exclusive Girls Day Out!”

His brow wrinkled in deep thought, Don looked up and past his wife to stare vaguely at a spot over the kitchen stove. So, giving him up as a bad job, Jeanie retrieved her phone from its charging bay to check for messages she might have missed while she was upstairs rousing Bernie.

There was nothing too important. Just a reminder from the clinic about Jeanie’s follow-up mammogram. And a text from her former boss, Roberta Tsang.

Nearly twenty years ago, Roberta had hired Jeanie as a part-time receptionist at her Bank Street interior design company. And, now, she was asking whether Jeanie would like to come bargain hunting at the Westboro garage sale next Sunday?

Jeanie deftly texted Roberta that she’d ‘love to go pickin’!’ and ‘how ’bout lunch too?’ And then stuck the details of the medical appointment into her phone calendar.

‘Done like dinner,’ as Sylvie would have said.

‘All good and proper!’ as Jeanie’s mother would amend.

Pocketing her phone, Jeanie ran up the back stairs to refresh her lipstick in her marbled en-suite bathroom. Once there, however, she paused to admire her newly-dyed hairdo in the vanity mirror.

Keenly aware that her aging Clear Spring complexion now benefitted greatly when she lightened her colour palette to a Pastel Spring’s lower intensity hues, she’d instructed her stylist to tone her hair down to a soft-honey tint. She wasn’t ready to go grey, she’d explained. But she certainly didn’t want to look like one of those desperate ladies in their early sixties who try to offset their wrinkles with a brash shade of copper or platinum blonde…

Then again, Jeanie was a realist, and she wasn’t going to hide from the fact that she was getting old. Yet, even with their fortieth anniversary in the rear-view mirror—and a year’s hiatus during her health scare—she and Don were still having it off a couple of times a month.

I might be vintage, Jeanie reminded the smiling woman in the mirror as she lightly touched up her coral lip gloss, but I sure ain’t antique!

As usual, Jeanie had dressed very carefully this morning and, assessing her appearance in the mirror on the back of her bedroom door, she was quite pleased. She hadn’t painted too much tawny colour on her cheeks, and she liked the nice summery effect of the plain gold hoops in her ears. Her flowery aqua cotton top bloused enough to disguise any imbalance in the size of her breasts and, with a nod to her mature status, she’d opted for a pair of faded denim-blue shorts which left only a tasteful stretch of her long legs bare. And—playing peek-a-boo with her neatly coral-polished toes—sprightly new espadrille sandals completed her flawless attire.

“You look like a million dollars!” she told her beaming reflection and giggled when it responded with a duck-lipped super-model pose.

Next, knowing that—even at the best of times—Bernie never moved fast in the morning, Jeanie detoured for a few minutes to her craft room, which was located across the hall from the guest bedroom on the second-floor. She wanted to finish cutting and filing a couple of articles from her favourite women’s magazine.

Of course, Jeanie knew very well that this was the age of the computer. But, in some fundamental way, she preferred winnowing real pages to simply downloading images from a screen. And she wasn’t about to give up her favourite hobby just because it wasn’t modern…

In fact—through years of careful scrutiny of homemaker’s magazines—Jeanie had assembled a tangible ‘vision’ of what her family’s life should ideally be. And via scrapbooks, files and inspiration boards, she continued to pursue that vision with passion and zest.

Now, donning her reading glasses, Jeanie flipped merrily through the latest issue’s glossy pages. She clipped illustrated instructions on how to host a gingham-themed summer picnic. And then a page of chowder recipes with both seafood and vegetarian options. She usually filed the ‘Simple Sewing Crafts’ feature, as well as the fantasy vacation pages, so she plied her scissors there too. Then, making sure that the paper remained uncreased, she stashed the articles into appropriately multi-colour-labeled folders, ready to be pasted into one of the many tidy scrapbooks that lined her craft room shelves.

Gratified with this bit of orderly housekeeping, Jeanie skipped up to the third floor to monitor her daughter’s progress. But—

There wasn’t any.

Or, at least to Jeanie’s mind, there hadn’t been.

Perhaps, in Bernie’s opinion, there had.

The window was once more firmly shut. The inky-black roller shade was pulled down and the tobacco-brown curtains had been yanked across. The olive-drab duvet had been restored. And it was painfully obvious from the bedclothes’ unruffled façade that the small silent bulge beneath hadn’t moved since Bernie had rearranged her mole’s nest back to her own heavy dark taste.

Wordlessly Jeanie stood and stared dumbfounded at her daughter’s dead heap. She felt like she’d been slapped in the face with a wet fish…

And then blistering incredulity replaced her initial shock.

How could any kid of mine, gasped Jeanie’s mind, so brutally reject my efforts to engage her in the wonderful al fresco pleasures of life? Haven’t I tried beyond hope to understand her ridiculous reserve? Haven’t I given her the benefit of my sunny philosophy every single day?

So, why this obstinate refusal to participate in a cheery Girls Day Out?

As my mother would say—'What’s the worst that can happen? What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger, girl.’

So, get out there in the fresh air and have a ball!

It all seemed so easy to Jeanie. But then again—as she was the first to admit—tolerating the personal quirks of her deeply loved but totally mystifying kidlet had always been the major challenge in her life.

Jeanie had miscarried multiple times before Bernie had finally been born, and the doctors had decreed that she’d have no more kids. So, there went her plan to have a troupe of children skipping through the halls of the three-storey, two staircase, six-bedroom, white elephant of an Edwardian red-brick house that she and Don had optimistically purchased in Old Ottawa South.

Then, Bernie had been a difficult, hyper-sensitive baby, hard to put to sleep and often screaming with colic. And—long past the ‘making shy’ stage—her finicky daughter had strenuously objected to strangers. So, Jeanie’d had to shelve her new scheme of housing international university students too.

No matter, she’d rationalized, and industriously repurposed the four superfluous bedrooms instead. On the second floor, she’d allocated a study for Don and a craft room for herself. And, in the two bedrooms on the third, she’d set up a box room for storage and—in the larger one—a quaint gabled playroom for her only child.

But then it had turned out that Bernie’s immune system had been massively unforgiving of even hypoallergenic pets. Reluctantly, Jeanie’d had to re-home their Labradoodle dog and Balinese cat. And, for the last twenty-eight years, the only animals in their home had been the mindless goldfish swimming endlessly around their bowl in Don’s study.

So, no brothers or sisters or boarders. And not even a furry pet…

With puberty, of course, Bernie had insisted on moving her bedroom up to the third floor. And—remembering her own dramatic middle school years—Jeanie had indulged her twelve-year-old kidlet’s sudden need for privacy. Efficiently, she’d hired a builder to tear down the wall of small attic box room and install another full bathroom for Bernie’s exclusive use. And then she’d happily decorated her daughter’s new en-suite bedroom and sitting area in that delightfully feminine ivory-cream-and-pink colour scheme.

Next, the generous walk-in closet in Bernie’s former second floor bedroom had been renovated to become Jeanie’s and Don’s en-suite bath. And—after purchasing an antique birdseye-maple bedroom set which included a spacious wardrobe—Jeanie had refurnished the remaining space for the use of overnight guests.

But then, as an ungrateful older teen, Bernie had stubbornly chosen that woeful attic décor. And—all the way through her Carleton University days and right into her nerdy government computer system analyst career—she’d persistently ignored her mom’s every encouragement to brighten it up.

Unfortunately, to Jeanie’s mind, thirty-year-old Bernie seemed to be stuck in a teenage funk. And—equally unfortunately—the end of their tense mother-daughter journey seemed to be nowhere in sight.

Which was because—as far as Jeanie knew—her persnickety kidlet had never led a normal social life. No gang of gal pals, no best friend and not even a whiff of romance had given a dash of spice to her daughter’s achromatic existence. Day in and day out, she’d simply slunk off to class or to work. Or sat at a computer. Or stared at a phone…

And when, a couple of years ago—at Jeanie’s urging—Don had offered to help with a substantial down payment, Bernie had balked at moving into her own place.

So, it had become increasingly obvious to Jeanie and Don that their daughter wasn’t planning to decamp anywhere else anytime soon.

Holy doodle, grimaced Jeanie. Imagine a thirty-year-old woman deliberately living at home with her aging parents. Still single and perfectly content to be buried alive in her dark, stuffy mole’s nest—

That was Bernie in a teacup!

And now, Jeanie realized, bitterly, the world’s most exasperating daughter wasn’t even going to disturb her self-centred agenda to venture forth on a rare Girls Day Out with her long-suffering mom!

Swiftly, Jeanie’s incredulity morphed into fury. And—aware that she was on the edge of saying or doing something unforgiveable—she abruptly spun on her heel and swept down the back stairs to the kitchen where Don still struggled with his puzzle.

“Bernie’s not coming!” she snapped. “Your daughter won’t even get up out of bed!”

“She won’t?” returned Don without looking up from his crossword. “What a surprise.” With a grunt of pleasure, he filled in one of the last two answers and, surveying the final clue, nonchalantly offered a helpful suggestion. “Maybe you could call somebody else to go with you. Probably Sylvie—oh, dear god, Jeanie, I’m so sorry—!” Too late Don realized his indefensible mistake and, red-faced, sprang up from his stool to give his wife his full attention. “Jeanie, I didn’t mean to—!”

But there was really no excuse.

“She can’t be bothered—and you don’t mean to—! That’s the story of my life!” snarled Jeanie, snatching her light summer tote bag from its peg. “But don’t let it bug you, Don! Sylvie may be gone. But I’m not beaten yet! I’m going to Lindy’s play—all by myself!”

Helpless with guilt, Don shrank back on his stool.

And, ditching her miserable husband, Jeanie stomped into the mudroom, seized her folding chair and slammed through the side door to face the pitiless hot and sunny world.

Alone.

#original novel #interior design #grief/mourning #satire #family #parenting #home lifestyle #theatre #family reunion #1920s #summer theatre #best friends #gettingtomarigold

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