#I appreciate you prev for giving me the chance to share more on this!

[beazt]

I can dig out more sources at a later point, can probably find some primary literature, but for starters: BPI, which certifies compostability of products, is fairly open about this (as long as you know to question the disclaimer on the products and know where to look after that…. I hate that this is considered “open” compared to similar things.) Directly from their webpage (I added holding for emphasis):

BPI’s Certification program is strictly limited to commercial compostability, and does not verify items for home or backyard compostability. This is because the ASTM standards that BPI certifies to are specific to commercial environments. This is also why BPI requires that qualifying language such as “Commercially compostable only. Facilities may not exist in your area.” is used on all products and packaging displaying the BPI Certification Mark.

While a small number of BPI Certified items have been certified for backyard compostability by the European program TUV Austria, most require temperatures that can only be achieved in professionally managed commercial environments.

Different countries, states, etc have varying access to facilities, technology, and composting techniques. And of course, differing laws and standards on what words can be marketed without verification.

as far as I remember, “biodegradable” is sometimes, but not always, illegal to use without verification, and “compostable” tends to be even more lax. The BPI website seems to still back this up by saying:

Washington State requires third-party certification of products as proof that they meet the relevant ASTM standards for compostability and requires products to meet industry standards for being distinguishable upon quick inspection by consumers and solid waste processing facilities. Other states are starting to work towards similar labeling guidelines.

I’m still glad for the BPI certification existing, but this is without a doubt, misleading for common consumers. And the corporations that produce these products rely on keeping as misleading as they can. Very few people pick up a “compostable plates” pack, or goes to a restaurant and get takeout in compostable containers, with a plan in mind of getting the material to an industrial composting facility. Large events and venues sometimes do, and they produce a lot of waste, but I think a lot more Hell would be raised across the board if the general public realized how much of their compostable products aren’t confirmed to be able to degrade in even a well-kept home compost. (And I know many people get compostable products feeling like it’d at least be better for the landfill it ends up in.)

my academic career didn’t swing much into composting— I have an ecology/environmental bio degree, but I focused more organismal— but in my ethnobotany class, for an outing, we ended up near the commercial composting my university runs. My professor explained some of this and encouraged us to learn more, and I dug deeper because it explained why the compostable materials (like these plates!) my father relied on when he was living in a camper weren’t reliably composting, like, at all.

It’s one of the rock-and-hard-place subjects in environmental studies, where relatively few otherwise-environmentally-oriented people know about it (in my experience), and there’s endless similar and more blatant things happening, so often it gets wrapped into other initiatives and overshadowed if mentioned.

To those who read all of this: consider investigating the compostability of products you buy that market themselves as such. See if they’re commercially certified, and if they have any indication of home compostability beyond that. It’s a hard enough drive to get stores to even carry any compostable products local to me, especially post-Helene, but I realize that other areas are ahead in that. I think it’d be feasible to raise awareness of compostability certifications, what they mean, and local composting facilities + their collection sites/recepticals (my university had some, but didn’t go much further than saying what can and can’t go in those bins.)

not a sign necessarily but my paper plate said this on it

Official ominous plate

[too-much-tma-stuff]

This Isn't the First Time (Part 16)

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By the time Danny got back everyone else was in uniform, he transformed back, already in his Hyena garb and pulled the weapons Jason had asked for out of his chest to hand them over. 

“What? How did you do that?” Nightwing asked, looking shocked and disturbed.

“I can turn intangible so I can turn my entire body into a pocket basically, it’s pretty handy. Now we should get going shouldn’t we? It sounded like there was a real emergency?” Hyena asked, looking around at the other costumed heroes and Tim nodded and started typing on his wrist computer. 

“Right, they have a threat from the Infinite Realms, a powerful one from the way Constantine is freaking out. There’s some uncertainty about how exactly the threat came about, the JLD tracks natural portals and there have been no energy signatures that would suggest anyone entering our world.

“The timing is a bit odd as well, since the JL just arranged a meeting with the leaders of the GIW. We suspect they might have already had this being captive and released them to try and garner sympathy or paint ghosts in a bad light to justify their actions. So far we have managed to contain the threat but we don’t have anything capable of actually defeating them, and it seems like neither do the GIW, not that we’d really let them try.

“More info will be provided on the Watchtower where I believe they have video footage. None of the younger teams have been called in as of yet.” Robin said, closing the holographic screen again and looking up at the gathered suits. “Are we ready?”

“Yep, let’s go,” Jason said, grabbing Danny’s hand. Tim nodded and led the way through the Zeta-tube, Nightwing bringing up the rear this time. Danny didn’t have to be dragged quite as much as last time, it seemed like going through twice already had helped break him out of his initial fear. 

The core members of the Justice league were already present, along with Zatana, Constantine again, and Deadman. Deadman stood when he saw Danny, and made an aborted gesture Jason couldn’t quite decipher, but thought might have been a bow, before Danny gave an inhuman chittering hiss and Deadman stopped. He looked startled and confused but he sat back down after staring at Danny for a moment. Hyena’s shoulders slumped a little and he gave the ghost an appreciative nod before all of them took the seats that had been left open for them on one side of the table. 

“Thank you for coming,” Batman rumbled at them, standing up from his seat. “I’m sure Robin already shared the info I sent him?” Hyena and Hood nodded. “Good, we don’t have much more information than that. We have some footage but it’s heavily corrupted, which Constantine says is fairly normal for ghosts?” He glanced at Hyena, who nodded. “They are contained for now, and aren’t trying as hard as expected to escape. They’re demanding someone come fight them and seem willing to wait for now.

“The plan is that-”

“No plan needed,” Hyena said with a dismissive little wave. “I’ll go in, engage them and lure them away from population centers and give them the fight they want. I have a feeling I know who it is anyway, he talks a big game but he’s not actually that much trouble. I’ve been dealing with these things since I was a teenager and for all Amity Park was scared of me there were no casualties under my watch, you can check. I can handle this.”

“Hmph,” Batman sounded, frowning at them. “That may be but I insist that-”

“Nope, I’m not used to fighting with anyone else. Anyone mortal would be a liability. If you insist you can call Phantasm.” Hyena rolled his eyes at Batman, who scowled back. 

“Fine,” He grumbled. “Robin would you mind-”

“Already doing it,” Tim interrupted, who was indeed already texting on a phone no one had seen him pull out. Batman sighed at them.

“Alright if that’s settled, what about our fee?” Red Hood spoke up. Everyone looked shocked, even Hyena, Jason hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to him about this because he hadn’t expected them to be called in so soon. Jason knew that Danny would have helped without any payment, he was that sort of person, but Jason didn’t fucking feel like helping these people. And he also knew that Danny would back him up regardless. 

“What do you mean?” Batman asked, eyes narrowed. 

“Well we’re not heroes are we? You can’t expect us to help just because it's the right thing to do,” Jason said with a smirk clear in his voice. 

Danny seemed to pick up what he was saying and grinned, he got up from his seat and draped himself across the back of Jason’s seat, showing he was behind Jason in this. He didn’t say anything, letting Jason handle the talking, but showing that he was there, and reminding everyone he wouldn’t actually help if Red Hood didn’t agree.

“Red Hood this is not appropriate behaviour. This is your world too,” Batman scolded and Jason rolled his eyes. 

“Ya, which is why we’re here, taking time outta our lives to help with this. But we have a skill set you don’t and I think since we’re not exactly part of your little club, and you’re going to get the credit for saving the world, we should get something out of this,” Jason said, leaning back in his chair. 

“We’re helping disband the GIW!” Superman pointed out indignantly. 

“And what? If we don’t help you you’ll let them keep torturing sentient beings? Nah, you’re the good guys,” Jason huffed. “I was thinking half a million would be reasonable, hm? I know that Brucie Wayne funds y’all so you must have the cash and for Hyena’s power-set I think that’s a pretty damn good deal!”

“Hood I know you’re upset with me right now but this is not how I raised you,” Batman said and Jason felt the pit roil within him at the mention. He stood up abruptly. “You don’t need the money, you can do the right thing.” 

“You did not raise me, I spent 3 years with you before I died in the line of duty at 16. I don’t owe you Shit.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to you but you went off on your own. It’s no one’s fault but-”

“Shut up! I didn’t blame you for not saving me, I know I went off on my own,” Jason’s fists were clenched and trembling, green was wavering at the edges of his vision. “That’s not what this is about and you know it!”

“Isn’t it?” Bruce asked, staring at Jason levelly. 

“You always think you know everything but you don’t fucking know me anymore. I’m doing this because I want to, it has nothing to do with you!” Jason insisted, blood already rushing in his ears. He needed to calm down, he needed- A familiar hand landed on his shoulder and before Jason could even think he was flinching away from the touch and lashing out. 

He struck Danny hard enough that he was sent stumbling back, catching himself on the chair again. Everything froze, and everything was quiet as Danny closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He pushed himself away from the chair and approached Jason again, holding out his hands placatingly. “We don’t have time for your anger right now, Boo. Go for a walk and calm down, I’ll handle this, and we can handle your anger together in private.” 

Jason froze, staring at Danny and still breathing heavily, he hadn’t even been aware he was standing up, when had he stood up? What was going on. Guilt was already building in him, though it couldn’t quite overcome the anger the Pit was forcing into his mind. He nodded sharply and turned away, leaving the room. 

Danny took another deep breath and then sat down in Jason’s chair, ignoring the ache on his face. That one wouldn’t heal as quickly as usual he knew, the emotional wound of being struck in front of Jason’s family, his friends, would stop the physical injury from healing at first. He tried to ignore it and move on though, he understood and he didn’t blame Jason, if anything he blamed Batman for upsetting Jason so much. Especially since what he was asking for was reasonable, at least from multi billionaire Bruce Wayne.

“So, back to what we were talking about,” Hyena said, opening his eyes again.

“Absolutely not! We can’t just move past that!” Nightwing interrupted. Danny winced and glanced over at the other two he’d come with, Nightwing looked incensed, Tim looked like he was too shocked to speak.

“It’s not a big deal, he has a hard time controlling his anger and I’ll heal. The threat is more important right now,” Danny tried to deflect again.

“This is not the first time he’s hit you,” Batman stated, leaning forward and propping his elbows against the table. Danny looked back at him, unsure of how to respond. “I keep an ear out for the rumours in the underground, he’s only hit you in front of people a couple of times, but they say sometimes after he calls you into his office they can hear him beating you.”

“Our relationship is none of your business!” Hyena snarled at Batman. 

“None of our business! Hyena we’re your friends,” Nightwing cut in, holding both hands towards his chest. “If you’re being abused we want to help! It doesn’t matter that he’s our family, if he’s hurting you then-”

“Shut up! You don’t know anything about our relationship. He’s not abusing me, I can handle this myself,” Danny snapped at Dick. He could feel his own eyes starting to glow green, even though he had better control of his anger he had his limits too. He couldn’t give in to his own anger now though, he needed to handle this. 

Unnoticed, Deadman left the room, slipping out through the wall unseen. He wasn’t going to be here when Hyena snapped, he was not going to be part of this ill advised lecture. 

“Dick is right, it doesn’t matter how powerful you are, when someone you love hurts you, and you don’t want to hurt them back it’s easy to just let it happen. But that doesn’t mean it’s right,” Batman told him, calm and soft, so much differently than he had talked to Danny at first. Next to Batman Constantine was trying to distract him, making a cut it out gesture that everyone in the room was ignoring.

“Shut up! At first you were after me for controlling him, and now you’ve done a 180 and you think he’s abusing me? Why can’t we just have a good relationship that makes us both happy!” Danny insisted furiously. 

“Think he’s abusing you? Hyena, he hit you in front of us! Him abusing you isn’t in question, you shouldn’t defend him!” Superman cut in, looking horrified. 

“Enough!” Danny snarled and stood up, his humanity falling away from him as he slammed his now clawed hands down on the table, the metal ripping under his claws. The temperature in the room dropped and frost raced across the surface in unnatural geometric patterns. Green glowing pits replaced his eyes in the stark skull as he glared down at Batman and Superman. Next to them Constantine fainted as the power in the room overwhelmed his senses, crashing to the floor with an unimpressive little groan. 

“I will hear no more of this!If you don’t need my help I will go home with my lover. If you do need my help I will accept a favour in return from Batman or Superman, I don’t care which. Once you have agreed to my favour and told me the coordinates of the threat, I will deal with it,” Hyena hissed furiously.

“Fine, we do need your help, but this isn’t the end of this discussion Hyena,” Batman sighed and stood up. “A favour for a favour,” He agreed. He hesitated when Danny held out his hand, but Constantine wasn’t conscious enough to tell him no, so he shook Danny’s hand. Green flame erupted around their hands and Danny’s skeletal grin widened as he stared Batman down. 

“Good, now tell me where to go,” Hyena demanded, and as soon as learned the location he vanished, leaving a heavy silence behind him in the room.

“I’m very glad the rest of Young Justice wasn’t here to see that. No one tells Phantasm,” Tim broke the silence.

--------

Danny flew towards the threat, he thought it was just Skulker, which was honestly a shame because it had been so long since he had a good fight. Jason was doing a good job helping him control his anger but he would like something to really take his aggression out on, and humans were just far too squishy. He just wanted to get this fight over with as quickly as possible so that he could go home, he was tired and he needed to be held.

As he got closer he didn’t need to pay attention to the coordinates, he could feel the nearby energy signature of a ghost shield and just follow that. On the way there he came across one of the JL’s camera drones, probably this far away because this was the closest it could get without the ecto fucking it up. 

He laughed to himself and dropped his invisibility, swooping around in front of it and grabbing the drone. He poured ecto into it while it shook and whirred. He didn’t stop until its mechanisms were covered in the stuff and the machine was gently glowing. 

“Heeey,” He said, waving his hand in front of the lens, knowing the JL was probably watching now. “I fixed this one so that it can properly see ghosts, and there’s a 50/50 chance it’s going to gain a little bit of sentience now. You’re welcome that you can be nosy, sorry if it starts getting the other cameras to unionize.” He patted the camera and then swooped away with the drone following quickly after him now.

The bubble of the ghost shield came into view, and when Danny first saw the hulking outline contained within he thought that he was right about it being Skulker. He sighed and swooped down closer he heard them shouting. 

“Come on out, pipsqueak!” A familiar voice roared. “We have a score to settle!”

Danny felt a hysterical laugh bubbling out of his throat and he let it out, cackling as he swooped down and hit the burrier with both fists, dispelling it with a crackling burst of energy. “Damn Dan I never thought I would be happy to see you!” Danny laughed as Dan spun to face him and rocketed up into the air to meet him. It seemed like he was going to be getting the fight he wanted after all! Danny barely recognized the excitement he felt about that but he did not want to examine it, especially not right now.

 “There you are!” Dan crowed before pausing for a moment, looking Danny up and down. “Damn you changed, grew some too. How long was I out?”

“Five years, why does it matter?” Danny asked, rolling his eyes.

“Because you locked me up, asshole!” Dan yelled. 

“And?! You deserved it! Now shut the fuck up and attack me, I have some anger to work out,” Danny snarled, slamming one fist into his opposite palm. 

“I’ll show you anger you Punk!” Dan flew at Danny, who didn’t bother to dodge, meeting Dan half way.

Ice met fire in a hiss of conflicting temperatures as Danny used the momentum to roll them both over and shoved Dan down into the ground with a muted thump and a fairly impressive crater. Danny pushed himself off and shot away, away from the ground and the human population. The atmosphere would probably be the safest place to have this fight. 

“Come back here you twerp!” Dan snarled and pushed off the ground as well, chasing after Danny just as quickly. Somewhere behind them Danny could hear whirring as the JL drone struggled to keep them in view. He hoped that they were enjoying the show, and he wondered if Constantine was awake again by now. It was too bad Danny wouldn’t get to see his face when he found out Batman had agreed to owe Danny a favour! He was going to blow a bloodvessel, a thought that made him laugh again.

“What’s so fucking funny!?” Dan demanded as he caught up and grabbed Danny’s ankle, swinging him around and threw him back. Well, they were far enough up that this would do just fine as an arena for their fight. 

“Oh I’m just thinking about how much stronger I’ve gotten since the last time we fought. This is going to be fun,” Danny said before he shot towards Dan to bring the fight to him.

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 13

@flufftober

Prompt(s): Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room

Title: Attic

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x gn!Reader

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, Arachnophobia, implied smut at the very end (but I did write with the intention of just kisses!), retching/vomiting/nausea mentioned, literally as scared as you could possibly imagine, crying, panicking, comfort, friends to lovers (ig?)

Summary: You haven't cleared out your attic in a long time and rope in Bucky to help you; not expecting to be scared out of your wits.

Word count: 2k

A/N: This is one of 3 fics I had for this prompt. They will get linked here and on the Masterlist once they've been edited. Can you tell I'm arachnophobic? I'm so scared of spiders it's untrue (and I may have or may not have experienced the retching from fear hahaha) - Love, Grem x

Attic | Cellar | Hidden Room

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Your attic had not been cleared out in years. The accumulation of stuff and things was now too much and you knew you needed to sort through memories, keepsakes and – let’s be real – shit you no longer needed. So, you enlisted the help of your roughest, toughest, friend to help you along; Bucky Barnes.

Although he usually preferred holding onto memorabilia, he knew how to keep you on task, unlike Steve who would simply melt at your puppy dog eyes. No. You needed Bucky to help you be strong.

And you needed him to stand guard to protect you from anything that might move in the attic.

You weren’t necessarily squeamish, but one big reason you had opted to ignore the growing mass of stuff-and-things was spiders. Attics , especially old ones like yours, held untold horrors of gigantic eight-legged fiends that 100000% would attack you if given the chance.

Maybe poison you.

And eat you.

Maybe.

Regardless of whether the fear was justified or not, the fear remained and Bucky was the only one you felt would adequately protect you from such a creature. Even if you had never seen said fiends in your house thus far.

You made Bucky go into the attic first. There were two reasons for this. The first was if there were any spiders lying in wait as the attic door popped open, they would get him first and you could run. The second was so that you could subtly appreciate his strong build from the other end of the landing.

“Doll, why are you standing so far away?” Bucky had queried after opening the hatch and turning on the attic light. He was turning to look at you with a raised brow, utterly confused as you tentatively stepped closer to the ladder.

“Just in case you fell,” you lie, your nerves shot. “Wouldn’t want to get crushed.”

Bucky chuckles. “So you’d not cushion my fall? That’s nice to know.”

He crawls up the ladder and you follow closely behind, racing up the steps quickly before you chicken out. You and Bucky pull boxes and make chit chat about memories linked to your boxes and share stories about growing up. Soon, you’ve relaxed enough to actually begin enjoying the time you’re spending with Bucky.

“Thanks for helping me,” you say, smiling over at him as you open the next box.

“It’s no problem, doll.” Bucky smiles back, filling up another bag of stuff for charity. “But I don’t know why you couldn’t get up here yourself?”

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should say anything about your irrational fear of spiders, but decide against it.

“Just wanted the company, is all.” It’s a half truth, you like having Bucky around. Well, a lot more than just like. But it’s a can of worms you aren’t willing to open with him yet.

Bucky seems satisfied with your answer and hums in response. A comfortable silence settles as you both work, sorting through your stuff-and-things, dust pluming and giving a stuffy air to the warm attic. Your eyes occasionally rake over Bucky and your thoughts begin to walk in circles. You were grateful for his friendship, his help and his kindness. You only wished you could pluck up enough courage to ask him out on a date – without the worry that it would jeopardise your friendship. You also didn’t want to embarrass yourself if you’d read too much into the spared glances and giggles you both shared.

You stuck your arm into the black bag before you, mindlessly repeating the same conversation with yourself when you felt something on your arm. You frown and try to peer into the bag. The sticker on the side read winter clothes so it must have been a finger of a glove or a-

It moved.

You freeze. No. You were imagining things. It was totally a glove. Your hand is balled into a tight fist in the bag, lost between layers of scarves and jumpers, but there is definitely something moving against your forearm.

Bucky looks over at you concerned. Super soldier hearing means he can not only hear the sound of your stuttered breathing ; he can also hear your heart racing so erratically that he thought you would pass out. Bucky watches as you stay still and you whisper his name so quietly he almost misses it.

“Yeah doll? You okay?”

You turn to look at him slowly and Bucky’s concern grows exponentially when he sees tears in your eyes. You shake your head, slowly. He takes a step towards you, making the floor board creak loudly. The vibration of the floorboard makes the thing against your arm wriggle further and you let out a hushed sob.

What had you said about not embarrassing yourself in front of Bucky?

Your lip quivers and tears spill from your eyes as you look at him, seeing his confused and concerned expression. Words die in your throat and you just nod and your arm. Bucky's blue eyes drift downwards following your arm into the black bag. He doesn’t see anything at first and was about to ask if this was some sort of prank. However, as bad luck would have it, very long, very hairy legs appear at your elbow.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky mutters, staring wide eyed. You’re too busy having an existential crisis to care but if you weren’t you’d probably throw something at him.

“Please,” you choke out hoarsely refusing to look down at your arm. You felt nauseous. Maybe you’d pass out. Or throw up.... or both.

Bucky looked at you and then back down to your arm where four pairs of eyes blinked up at him.

“I’ll need a cup.”

“Fuck you and your cup!” You hiss angrily. “You have a metal arm. Just pick him up and throw him out.”

Bucky looks at you dumbfounded, as if you’ve suggested something utterly disgusting, then realisation dawns and he flexes his metal hand. “Oh, yeah.”

The spider moves a little higher, long fuzzy legs tickling the crease in your elbow as it feels its way up your arm slowly. It’s enough to make you heave. If being freaked out by a spider wouldn’t embarrass you in front of Bucky, vomiting from fear would. Your retching seems to snap Bucky out of his stupor of forgetting he does in fact, have a metal arm to deal with the spider. Bucky watches as your shoulder violently move as you retch again, harder this time, and listens to your staggered breathing as you attempt to stay in control.

He reaches over with his metal palm up, placing it gently against your bicep. The vibranium was luke-warm against your flushed skin. You were already breaking a sweat from anxiety mixed with the tepid dry heat of the attic and wished for once his arm was cool to bring some relief.

“Just stay still, doll.” Bucky instructs softly, waiting for the perfect moment as the spider makes its way into Bucky’s palm. You bite back a venomous quip, clamping your mouth shut instead. Once the spider is nestled in his palm, Bucky reels back and throws it across the attic. The spider lands in the cushioned yellow foam between the floorboards, re-orienting itself briefly, before scuttling awkwardly into a crevice.

Bucky would have turned back to you to comfort you but there was an empty space where you once stood. Upon feeling the spider and Bucky’s hand leave your arm, you had practically thrown yourself from the attic. You didn’t even know if you took the ladder or jumped. You were too pre-occupied crying on your bed, trying desperately to calm down.

Bucky appears at your bedroom door with a gentle knock and a soft smile as your wiping your eyes, breathing finally evening out enough with only a few hiccups of sobs.

“Sorry,” you say thickly, sniffing pitifully. “And thanks for getting rid of it.”

Bucky shrugs and comes closer to you, sitting next to you on the bed. “He was pretty damn big, gave me a fright too.”

The thought of the spider scaring Bucky too makes you smile over at him. You sniff again and realise you must look crazy; crying and hyperventilating over a spider touching you. You shiver at the thought and try to quell a wave of nausea. You rub the arm the spider was on subconsciously, your mind tricking you into thinking that something is on you again.

Bucky seems to take notice because he places his flesh hand over yours to stop you rubbing your arm too hard. You look over at him again and notice his eyes are looking into yours with a knowing kindness that makes your heart stutter.

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He says firmly and then, quieter, he asks, “Is that why you wanted me here?”

You nod. “I... I don’t do well with spiders.”

“I can see that,” Bucky grins and you shoot him a glare. But it’s half hearted and you falter into a chuckle. You rub at your eyes again, removing the last of the tears.

“I just wanted to make sure I didn’t pass out if I saw one. And I like your company so... two birds.” You shrug sheepishly and Bucky nudges your shoulder with his playfully.

“Well, congrats doll. You didn’t pass out. And...” He trails for a moment, deciding on what to say. “I like your company too.”

You feel your cheeks go a little pink but say nothing. You take a deep breath and exhale a long  exhaustive, lung-emptying breath, body finally letting go of the adrenaline. However, it all kicks up again when you feel Bucky inch closer to wrap his arm around you in an incredibly awkward, yet incredibly comforting side hug. He pulls you close and you're squished against his shoulder as he rests his chin on your head. Your face heats and you don’t know where to put your newly sweaty palms other than onto your jeans. Finally, you breathe and it’s like a switch flips. You relax entirely in Bucky’s embrace and lean your head into his shoulder, mumbling thanks.

You head vibrates as Bucky’s chest rumbles with a chuckle. “No worries doll. But maybe we cut the sorting short for today, huh? You made good progress.”

You beam proudly, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah. I think so. We were only up there for about two hours."

You hum thoughtfully, breathing in the scent of his aftershave. "So, uh, do you want to watch a movie or something? I’d feel bad that you came all the way here to help.”

“Sure. I’d like that.”

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

You don’t really know how long you sit together, breathing in the smell of him, slotting under him as if you were always meant to. It isn’t  until you sigh as your eyes flutter closed that you feel Bucky’s head move. His nose brushes the your crown and he inhales the scent of your shampoo and ever so gently presses his lips against your hair.  You shift, unsure of how to react, and that makes Bucky stiffen with the realisation he’d just kissed your head on autopilot. Your cheeks flush – as do his. Yet you both remain silent for a few more moments.

“Bucky?” you call out quietly.

“Yeah, doll?”

Another pause.

“Do that again.”

He hesitates but complies.

And continues to comply every time you command it, eventually kissing all the way down to your cheeks, hovering at your lips. With one last command, he meets your eyes briefly before they flutter closed and your lips meet.

Neither of you watch the movie until, much, much later and even then you’re both too wrapped up in one another to care. That day was the first of many good days to come.

Who'd have thought you would be thankful to a spider for bringing you and Bucky together?

[moonchild9350]

Sign the Dotted Line (Chapter 7)

Summary: You reconciled with Minho and Minho spent the night. Your trip in Japan continues. You both decide that your relationship can withstand anything, as long as you have each other.

Pairing: idol Minho x fab reader

Genre: fluff, smut 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: p in v penetration, creampie (don't)

Notes: Ahhhhh this is it! The final chapter. I want to thank everyone that has made it to the end. This is my first series and it was such fun to write and share with you. I appreciate every kind comment, reblog, like that was said/given over the last two months! I hope you enjoy this last chapter and if you would like check out my other works as well :)

If you would like to move to my general taglist now that the series is over, shoot me a message or dm!

Series Summary: You are living an ordinary life until one day you come across a notice from your favorite band Stray Kids, that the company is looking for a girlfriend for one of it's members Lee Minho. Thinking you have nothing else to lose, you apply. This one action causes your life to change forever.

Series Masterlist

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

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You awoke with a start, your eyes snapping open. You looked around the room until your eyes landed on Minho, fast asleep next to you. You couldn’t believe he was here, next to you in bed. Carefully, you scooted closer to him, snuggling into his side. Minho stirred, opening his eyes briefly before pulling you close to him. You chuckled, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Minho buried his face in your hair, giving you a squeeze.

“What time is it?” He mumbled, his voice laced with sleep.

“Don’t know,” you replied, “I didn’t get a chance to check.”

Minho tickled your side at your response causing you to squeak as you tried to wiggle away, but Minho just held you tighter.

“Let’s sleep a little more,” Minho said. You hummed in response, more than ok to get some extra sleep. Before you knew it, you were fast asleep once more, safe and warm within his arms.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up.” Someone was telling you to wake up and you felt something poke your face again and again. You swatted at whatever was poking you, that something chuckling. You opened your eyes to see Minho, wide awake, continuing to poke your forehead.

“Why are you poking me,” you whined, twisting your head away and trying to get away from him. Minho giggled, chasing after you. He caught you once more, hovering over you, as you parted your legs so he could slot himself between them. He took in your features, from your messy bed hair, to your tired eyes, before landing on your lips.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, before leaning down to kiss you. The kiss was gentle, his lips moving softly with yours. You felt him shift slightly, feeling his cock at your entrance. With a rock of his hips, you gasped as he buried his cock within you. You gripped his arms as he set a steady rhythm, his eyes on your face watching your every reaction. Minho grasped your hands, bringing them on either side of your head, intertwining your fingers with his.

He was in heaven, the girl he loves beneath him, lost in pleasure because of him. He loved the feel of your hands in his, the way your breasts pressed against his skin, the way your warm walls fit snugly around his cock.

He shifts his hips so he can go deeper, the change in position causing you to loudly moan as he hits your sweet spot again and again. You feel that warm feeling building up within you, within your core. You squeezed Minho’s hands tightly as he rolls his hips into yours again and again until you reach your high, that warm feeling spreading to your toes, to your belly, causing you to arch into the man above you.

Your walls clench around Minho’s cock, causing him to groan before he’s thrusting his hips sporadically before slamming into you one last time, his hot cum filling your walls. Minho leans down to kiss you, his tongue finding its way into your mouth as he deepens the kiss. He leans his forehead against yours and lets out a sigh before pecking a kiss to your lips once more.

You watch as he leans back on his knees and withdraws his cock, his eyes trained on his cum seeping slowly from your pussy. He licks his lips and then smiles, happy that he’s made his mark in you once more.

“I’ll be back baby, let me clean you up,” he says as he gets off the bed. He cleans you up and helps you sit up, your hair now more of a mess than ever. He chuckles at the sight, tussling your hair so it’s even more of a mess.

“Minho!” you whine, slapping his hand away. You couldn’t help but giggle, Minho joining in.

“Let’s get ready baby. We have to meet the others soon.”

You nodded your head in agreement and followed Minho out of bed. You watched as he got dressed and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I’ll be back to get you ok? Gotta go back to my room and change.”

“Ok,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. You reached up on your toes to give him a kiss. Minho’s hands slid down to grip your ass, giving the flesh a squeeze causing you to yelp. He chuckled at your distress and made his way to do the door, opening it and softly closing it.

You made your way to the bathroom, deciding to take a shower. You felt sore between your legs, an occurrence that you’ve come to expect now whenever you slept with Minho. This time it was a reminder of your new start with him. After your shower, you finished getting ready, opting for a comfy fit, putting on jeans and a tshirt. You brushed your hair and did your makeup. You smiled at your reflection, noticing that afterglow, causing you to blush. You could say you were truly happy.

You heard a knock on the door. Hurrying out of the bathroom, you grabbed your bag and phone, slipped your shoes on and opened the door. There was Minho, looking gorgeous as always. He gave you a smile and reached out his hand to grab yours. You smiled as you took his hand and followed him down the hall to the elevators. You couldn’t believe you were about to walk out in front of everyone, holding hands with Minho. You honestly never thought this day would come.

If you thought it was a sight to behold, it was nothing compared to how the boys reacted when they saw you two walk their way hand in hand.

“Oh my god,” Jisung exclaimed, shock on his face.

“You’re holding hands, you’re smiling and you both look….happy.” Felix gushed, a big smile on his face.

You giggled at their shock, understanding where they were coming from. After all, you and Minho have bickered and been sworn enemies since you meant a year ago. Chan smiled at you two, happy that things worked out. He was proud of Minho and his growth.

You made eye contact with Harin and Seoyun who were sitting with Chan and Hyunjin. Harin winked at you while Seoyun smiled, both girls beyond happy for you. Minho walked to an empty couch and sat down, dragging you down with him. He pulled you closer to his side and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You were giddy with excitement, finally feeling like a real couple.

You all chatted, waiting for instructions for today’s gig. The boys had yet another fan meeting to go to and they were allowing you, Harin, and Seoyun to go, so you could watch from the sidelines. You were excited to go, as you knew it would be a fun outing. Once the meeting was done, you all headed to the cars, filing in one by one. Minho never left your side, his hand wrapped in yours whenever possible. He would bring your hand to his lips to press a kiss every now and then, sending shivers down your spine each time.

Once at the venue, the manager showed where you three girls could sit and watch. The venue was full, hundreds of fans lined up to meet with the boys. You were excited to watch the process, always seeing fan videos of what goes on. You were on the edge of your seat the whole time, watching as the fans met with each member one by one, as the boys spoke with the fans and had a mini dance party.

You watched Minho, a smile constantly on his face as he interacted with each fan and the other members. He seemed happier than usual and you hoped your new found relationship was part of the reason.

The end of the meeting came fast, as all good things do, everyone filing out of the venue. You and the other girls were escorted to the backstage area where the boys were. They were filled with energy and horsing around, laughter filling the area. Hyunjin ran to Seoyun, wrapping her up in a hug, while Harin snuggled closely into Chan’s side. You stood awkwardly on the side, not sure if Minho wanted you by his side. You remembered what happened last time you tried to take initiative and be close to him.

However, his eyes met yours and he beckoned you over, a small smile on his face. You grinned and made you way over to him, stopping in front of him. He pulled you in and placed a wet kiss on your lips. You were shocked, not use to the public affection…not that you were complaining. Ohhhs rang out around you both as the boys teased you two. You laughed with them as Minho had you stand in front of him, wrapping his arms around your middle.

“I’m hungry!” Changbin yelled, a pout on his face.

Seungmin shook his head at the outburst. “Why am I not surprised,” he said, teasing his hyung.

“Shall we go eat?” Chan asked.

Everyone agreed to the suggestion, as everyone was actually hungry. There were a group of eating places nearby, so you all decided to walk over and enjoy the night air. The banter was light and playful, the boys talking animatedly about the fan meet and making fun of each others costumes. They did all look pretty cute, you had to agree.

You all ate well, filling your stomachs with yummy food. You hadn’t felt this happy in a while, your cheeks hurting from all the laughter. Minho talked with you when he wasn’t chatting with the others, making sure to include you in the conversation. You were very happy to be involved. What you loved the most, however, was how Minho doted over you, making sure you had enough to eat or drink. He made sure you were able to pick out your favorite foods and even let you try some of his food. He kept his hand on your lap at all times, when he wasn’t spooning food onto his plate or yours, occasionally giving it a squeeze.

The flight back to Korea is tomorrow. This trip definitely would be one to remember. Your relationship was on the mend. You had your boyfriend back and you were proud to call him so. You couldn’t wait for the adventures that awaited both of you. **1 year later* Today was the day of your meeting with the manager. She wanted to discuss your last two years with the company and how you wanted to proceed. You couldn’t help but reminisce, thinking back to the first time you were in this office. You were hopeful and excited, this opportunity laid bare before you that anyone would kill for. You remembered your shock after your first encounter with Minho. The memory caused a pang in your chest, but knowing what you know now, it was just a roadblock in your relationship.

You are thankful you were able to meet the boys, their kind, gentle nature, and how they welcomed you with open arms. They were your refuge during the dark months of solitude, when you felt more lonely than ever. You were thankful for Harin and Seoyun, their friendship meaning more than they could ever know. How they took you in and encouraged you, wept with you, and cheered you on.

The door opened, pulling you from your thoughts, watching as the manager sat down opposite you like she did two years before.

“Y/n, we meet again.” She said, a smile on her face.

You chuckled and said, “yes, yes we do haha.”

“Well here we are two years later. Your contract has ended and so we need to discuss how you want to move forward.” She looked at you with curious eyes but she also seemed nervous, not sure how you were to react.

“Well, I don’t want to renew the contract.” You watched as she took a breath, understanding on her face laced with sadness.

“Ok, well…” but you stopped her, holding up your hand.

“I wasn’t finished. I said I don’t want to renew the contract because I feel Minho and I don’t need a contract to remain in our relationship.”

She looked at you, her eyes wide. You’re not sure she expected you to say that. She quickly recovered however and cleared her throat. “Excellent, that’s excellent news y/n! I’m so happy you feel that way. If that’s how you both feel, then we have no problem in agreeing with that.” She gave you a warm smile.

You smiled back, happy to she was willing to agree with you.

“I guess that takes care of that. I really am happy Minho has found his match. It’s been hard these last few years, many people have come but no one has stayed given his…temperament.” She stopped to consider her next words. “But it seems he’s found his match in you y/n. Thank you for giving him a chance, really.”

You nodded your head. It has been two tough years. You have been through a lot mentally and emotionally. You were ready to call it quits and leave more than one time, but thankfully you stayed…even though you had to, but that was besides the point. You and Minho truly didn’t need the contract to define your relationship. You both felt comfortable with each other to forgo continuing the contract and to just have a normal relationship. You both got the idea from Chan and Harin as their contract had recently ended and the company had let them forgo renewing another one.

“Thank you so much,” you said as you got up from your chair. She smiled at your on your way out, watching as you left the office. You let out a breath once you were outside the door and made your way to the practice room, the path familiar by now. You were happy this time, unlike so many others as you reached to open the door. You felt warm inside as you were greeted by the typical pile of boys on the floor as they loudly talked over one another.

Chuckling at the sight, you closed the door behind you and sat down on the couch, watching as Jeongin and Seungmin fought their way from underneath the others. Once everyone was untangled and slowly getting up from the floor, clutching their stomachs from laughing, you were noticed, a loud chaos of “y/n!” rang throughout the room.

You smiled and said hello, crossing your legs to settle in. Minho came up to you and kneeled in front of you.

“Hey baby,” he said, a smile on his face.

You grinned at your boyfriend, “hi.”

Minho pulled your face to his and kissed you, once, twice, three times before Changbin yelled “get a room!”

You pulled away from Minho with a smile, the boy grinning from ear to ear. You loved this man with all your heart and as long as you had each other, you could take on the world. Yeah, you two would be just fine.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @artemisdoe @emily21morgan @athforskz @jazziwritesthings @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @jisunglyricist @tsunderelino @hyuneyeon @sillyhal @queenmea604 @bloominhos @partyparty-yah

[stylesispunk]

"I Couldn't want you anymore"

Artist!Joel Miller x Florist! Reader

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: age gap (Joel is 36 and reader is 28). Remember that "Bee" is the reader's nickname, slightly angst, fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF. Things are getting better. no proofreading

a/n: This one is more than 5k. This one is a lovely chapter. The last one didn't do well, so I hope you like this one better. I think I will write two more chapters of this fic, but I think! I'm already working on another thing. Thanks for all those who read this! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, and please, share your thoughts with me. I love reading your comments. You can send me any ask if you want. No proofreading because I'm too tired :( Happy reading!

masterlist

Was there something wrong with you?

There should have.

The constant infinite feeling of being the people pleaser had stolen things from you before. Some dreams, opportunities and chances of loving someone. You had always chosen others before even chose you, you had always hurt yourself before even thinking on hurting someone else, because that was the way life had been for you. You being the one pleasing others, you being the once giving up chances, you being the once being the second option, and now that you were the first for someone, it was scary.

You acknowledge you weren’t Joel’s first person he loved. Nor you were the first person he looked at, but you were the one he was looking at now, and you feared you weren’t enough for him to stay. Perhaps you were ashamed to take instead of giving this time.

The truth was, you wanted so desperately be loved at the same time you begged to be left alone. And how could you not if you biggest fear was ended up alone in a world where love was an idea instead of a romantic sacrifice conveying in a language only two people could understand

You just never thought you’d get this attached to him.

You just never thought you would have to wake and dream about his eyes, the prettiest you’ve ever came across with in a reality you didn’t see before. His eyes were pretty because you were in love with them, they were special because they looked at you with and adoration you weren’t able to see before. And how could you look away nod that you have seen that?

“I feel like a damn tall child, you know?” you said at Lily “It feels like I need to be told what I have to do.

looked at you with a sympathetic smile and replied, "I can see where you're coming from, but love doesn't come with a rulebook, and there's no one-size-fits-all answer to how to navigate it. Joel cares about you, that's clear. And you've given so much of yourself to others over the years; maybe it's time to let someone give back to you."

You nodded in agreement, but the fear still lingered in the corners of your heart. It was a fear that had been with you for as long as you could remember, a fear of abandonment, of not being enough. It was a fear born from a lifetime of people-pleasing, always putting others first and neglecting your own desires and needs.

Lily continued, "You deserve to be loved, truly loved, without constantly second-guessing whether you're worthy of it. It's okay to let someone in, to allow yourself to be vulnerable. Love is a two-way street, and Joel chose to be with you because he sees something in you that he cherishes. Trust in his feelings for you."

You sighed, knowing that Lily was right, but the vulnerability of it all was still terrifying. You had become so used to being the giver, the one who made sacrifices, that being on the receiving end was an unfamiliar and unsettling experience.

“What if he gets bored of waiting for me?” you asked

“Why would him?” Lily questioned.

You Sighed, a mix of clouding thoughts invaded your head "I don't know, Lily. I've built this life that I was happy with, and Joel came along, and it's like everything has been turned upside down. I love him, but it's scary how much he's changed things for me."

Lily gave you a thoughtful look. "Maybe it's not about him ruining your life, but about him being the one you dreamed about” she smiled before continued “Remember when we were kids and we dreamed about our prince charming coming to us”

You nodded at her, gracing a small smile at the memory “Fairy tales aren’t real”

“I’m not saying they are, but,” she paused to hold your hands in a comfort way “I believe there’s someone out there for you because you deserved it”

“How do you know is Joel?” you genuinely questioned.

“Oh no. That’s something only you know” she replied.

“I think he fits perfectly fine to what I dreamed of someone” you added, knowing deep inside that you should your heart won this time.

“You have your answer then, try things with him”

You took Lily's words to heart, her reassurance helping to ease some of the doubt that had been haunting you. The love you felt for Joel was real, and perhaps it was time to embrace it without the goshts of insecurity.

Lily smiled and gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I'm here for you, Bee, and I think Joel truly cares about you. Give it a chance, and maybe you'll find something worth it”

“You’re only saying this because he is your brother-in-law” you joked.

For the first time in days, you felt at ease and carefree. You knew that there was so much more to life than just finding someone who will love you, but you still want drown yourself in the arms of someone without fear, and just enjoy the warm water caressing your skin.

As the days went by, you tried to open about your own feelings, gathering the thoughts and the courage to let yourself be vulnerable not in front of Joel, but you. To understand that you had the power to make choices about your feelings and acknowledge them. To feel less afraid that some else could hurt you and know that you could take care of yourself, and you will always be. But someone else could joined it, too. And you wanted it to be Joel.

Back when you two first met, you didn’t have to pick Joel. You both had crossed paths by fate and there was an instant connection that both of you ignored for so long, even when the chemistry was there. The lips curving in small smiles once you were together, the spark in the eyes. You understood you weren’t screwed, but lucky.

You weren’t looking for love months ago, nor planning to fall for someone, but Joel happened and there was it. You didn’t want to look at anyone else anymore.

And for Joel, you were the same. You were it. Yes, your heart was heavy, but it was open and ready to face every challenge that lay ahead. Whatever the outcome, you knew it was time to get the answers you'd been looking for days.

After a few days, one afternoon, as you were contemplating your feelings, you received a text message that caught you by surprise.

Joel

Can you stop by the gallery?

You smiled at the screen, not knowing what to answer,after days of silence, you couldn't help but feel the anticipation creeping in your body. Joel's gallery had become a small symbol of a story you wanted to write with him, a place where your connection had first blossomed and you wondered what could be so important for him to text after days of radio silence between two of you.

Your heart raced at the thought of seeing him again and what this conversation might entail.

You

Of course, I’ll be there at 8 PM.

The gallery had seen the beginnings of your written pages, and tonight, it might witness a significant turning point in your relationship with Joel.

As you waited for the clock to hit 8 p.m., the hours appeared to fly by. Thoughts and emotions raced inside you, with feelings of adrenaline, worry, and panic. You arrived at the gallery a bit early since you didn't want to keep Joel waiting.

You took a deep breath and gathered your thoughts before walking to the gallery, with your heart pumping with every step. When you saw the familiar sight of the gallery's entrance, you entered the space, looking for Joel. The soft glow of the gallery lights offered an inviting glow over the pieces of art on show.

Each piece of artwork had recollections of your previous meetings, each painting and sculpture giving silent witness to your romance path. You remembered the day he kissed you for the first time in front of Lauren, and how upset you were at him for it, then the first real kiss he gave you that night, when he was tracing the canvas of your face. and now, your heart squeezed at the thought of loving him so much.

Your steps echoed in the empty gallery as you reached the center of the space, waiting for Joel to come out. But when he did, he seemed speechless and confused at your presence there, as if you were interrupting his peace.

“Bee? What are you doing here?”  Joel's voice held a touch of surprise as he looked at you.

You furrowed your brows, a little confused. "You sent me a text, Joel. You asked me to come."

He seemed puzzled for a moment, and then he shook his head. "I didn't send any text."

Oh.

You hesitated, wondering if there had been a misunderstanding. "Well, I received one from you, Joel."

“You know? I’m really busy right now, Bee.” He said, telling you to leave him alone.

“But wait” he said going into his office looking for something. “Since you’re here, you should have this” handing you the keys to your flower shop. You accepted them, feeling a sense of disbelief. “I don’t know if you want to reopened it but, whatever your choice is, is up to you”

“That’s all?” you ask, dumfounded.

Joel nodded; his tone distant. "What else can I say?"

You were agape by his tone towards you.

“I- “

“I’m really busy, I’m behind the schedule with so many things because of the accident so, if you could go – “

His response left you somewhat stunned, and you were at a loss for words. "I... I didn't expect this."

Joel's expression remained a little off "What did you expect?"

You took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. "Well, I thought I came here to discuss... us."

Joel's gaze met yours, and there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "What about us, Bee?"

You felt a lump in your throat, the weight of your not so silent feelings hanging in the air. "I wanted to give us a chance."

But his face remained the same, and once again you felt ashamed at receiving nothing but silence from him all over again.

“Okay” you said defeat less, walking towards the door with your heart in your hand.

“Don’t” he called out.

Joel's voice brought you to a halt just as you were about to leave. Your heart still heavy with the weight of your words and the uncertainty of his response. There was still a mix of hope and uncertainty still tugging at your heart.

"Bee, stop" he called once again.

You turned to face him. Your heart still ached from the uncertainty of what his words were going to be.

 "Please, tell me,” He urged, his voice tinged with hope. "Because there's no way I'm letting you go for a second time."

"Are you for real?" you questioned, your tone challenging as you took a step closer to Joel.

Joel's gaze burned into yours, his eyes filled with love. You felt a glimmer of hope in your heart as you looked at him. The air between you was charged with unspoken emotions.

“I’m obsessed with you”

Joel's admission sent shivers down your spine, and for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to feel hope. You took another step closer to him, your heart racing. The room seemed to shrink as the magnetic pull between you intensified.

"I love you so much," Joel continued, his voice filled with sincerity and affection. "And I want to spend my days proving it."

The world outside appeared to slip away as you got closer, leaving only you and Joel in your own small kingdom. The air tinged with thrills, and you couldn't deny the strong pull pulling you together. Your heart crested with a range of emotions, and you whispered, "Make me believe in you, Joel."

Joel grabbed for you without hesitation, pulling you into his arms, and your lips met in a sweet, urgent kiss. The rest of the world faded away at the same time, and the love you both felt for each other became the only reality that identified. It felt like religion was in his kisses.

As you finally pulled away, the intensity of the moment hung in the air. You locked eyes with Joel, your hearts intertwined in the delicate dance of love. There was no turning back now, and together, you were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead on your path to healing and reconciliation.

The intensity of the moment lingered in the air as you finally pulled away. You locked gazes with Joel, your hearts in a delicate dance of love. There was no turning back now, and you were ready to face whatever obstacles awaiting you on the road.

Joel attached his gaze to yours, and for the first time in a while, his expression was prone to vulnerability "I love you, and I won't let you go again."

With those words, you knew that you were on the right path, you were safe and you knew your place was in his arms, no matter how challenging it might be.

"Okay, now you stay here," Joel said, gently grabbing you by your waist.

You raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were busy."

He smiled, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. "I don't care. I can do things with you here."

Joel walked you to a comfortable sofa in the gallery where you could sit and see him work. He went about his tasks, occasionally glancing your way with a warm smile that made your heart skip a beat. It was a simple moment, yet it meant everything to you both. The greatest masterpiece you were creating was the art of being together, sharing the same space in peace. 

“What would you say if a take you on a date tomorrow night?” he asked

Joel continued working, but the question hung in the air for a moment before you responded, "A date? You mean like an actual date?"

He chuckled and looked at you, his eyes filled with warmth. "Yes, an actual date. Dinner and everything."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you felt a rush of excitement. "I'd love that."

"Great," he said, returning his focus to his work. "I'll make sure it's a memorable night."

You admired him and were excited and grateful for what the future held. Joel was working on a new canvas, but it felt like you were both creating a beautiful portrayal of your love story.

The next day, the sun bathed the city in a gentle, early morning light, filling your home with warmth and hope. You woke up feeling a little stuffy and achy all over, but you were so content and excited about the future of your relationship with Joel that you ignored any bad feeling. 

So, you went on with your routine, preparing a cup of coffee and tending to some flowers on your table, then your phone chimed.

Joel

Good morning, Bee. How about going to a restaurant tonight?

You couldn't help but smile at the thought of spending your night with him. It was a simple yet lovely idea.

You

Good morning, Joel. It sounds perfect. What time?

Joel

How about eight? I'll send you the location and I’ll wait for you there?

By the way, can’t wait to see you.

You

Can’t wait to see you too.

With a sense of excitement, you began to prepare for the day and eventual date, selecting the most beautiful clothes from your closet. You carefully chose an outfit that felt appropriate for the occasion. You chose an elegant red dress with a delicate floral pattern to show how attached you were to the flowers. You felt comfortable yet gorgeous in the gown, knowing that Joel was going to like how you would like.

You then styled your hair in loose waves to give you a natural and carefree look. You wanted this date to be as easy and enjoyable as your blossoming relationship with Joel.

You chose a small amount of makeup to accentuate your natural beauty as the finishing touch. You had a brilliant smile that brightened even more when you thought about him.

You couldn't help but feel a wave of happiness flooding over you as you glanced at yourself in the mirror. Today was the beginning of yet another lovely and real chapter in your journey with Joel, and you were ready to enjoy every moment of it.

But as you were ready, your stuffy nose and aching body didn’t help you to entirely enjoy the moment, so you decided to rest on your bed for a little while before going to you date with Joel, ten minutes would be enough for you to feel rested and freshen up.

But those ten minutes become three hours, and it was already ten past fifteen when you woke with a thud, your heart beating as you looked at the time. It had been two hours since you were scheduled to meet Joel at the restaurant. Panic gripped you as you hurriedly checked your phone. There were missed calls and messages from him, all of which were loaded with mounting anxiety.

Joel had made reservations at a cozy restaurant in town. He came early and waited for you, anxious to see you and make this evening memorable. However, an hour dragged into more, and you were still nowhere to be found.

Joel's impatience escalated to frustration, and he couldn't help but suspect that you had dumped him. He was upset and disappointed, and he was hurt that you had played with his feelings.

Just as he was about to leave, his phone chimed with a text message from you.

you

Hey Joel, I'm so sorry. I fell asleep. I’m feeling unwell, and I just woke up. I can't believe I missed our date. I genuinely didn't mean to. I understand if you're upset, but I hope you can forgive me. Please let me make it up to you.

Joel's frustration and disappointment were eased by your text message, which arrived just in time. He took a long breath and softened his look as he read your message, realizing that circumstances outside your control led to an unfortunate situation. It was evident that you had not intended to miss the date, and your words seemed genuine with real regret.

Joel

I'm sorry to hear you're not feeling well. Of course, I forgive you. There's no need to make it up to me. Your well-being is more important. Let's reschedule for when you're feeling better.

Joel sent the response, satisfied and beaming, and set up a plan to surprise you and take the date to your house, while ensuring you felt well and cared for by him. 

Once you had changed into your pajamas and getting ready for bed. A knock on your door caught you off guard. You hurried to the door, not knowing who it could be. When you opened it, you were surprised to see Joel standing there with a warm smile on his face.

"Joel?" you said, both surprised and delighted to see him. "What are you doing here?"

He held up a bag in one hand and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in the other. "I couldn't let the evening go to waste, and I couldn't stand the thought of you feeling unwell and alone. So, I decided to bring the date to you."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you were touched by his thoughtfulness. You stepped aside to let him in, and he entered with a charming grin. "I hope you don't mind me crashing your place."

You shook your head with a smile, feeling a sense of warmth and love wash over you. "Not at all. I'm just so happy you're here," you walked closer to him “Joel, I'm so sorry about tonight."

Joel smiled warmly and handed you the flowers and a box of chocolates. "No need to apologize, Bee. Are you feeling better?” he asked as he touched your face.

You sighed in relief as you felt Joel's gentle touch on your face. "I'm still a bit under the weather, but seeing you here makes me feel much better."

He nodded; You sighed in relief as you felt Joel's gentle touch on your face. "I'm still a bit under the weather, but seeing you here makes me feel much better."

He nodded; his eyes filled with concern. "I'm here to take care of you tonight, so no need to worry about a thing. How about we enjoy a cozy dinner at your place, just the two of us?"

You couldn't help but smile at his proposal. "That sounds perfect, Joel." his eyes filled with concern. "I'm here to take care of you tonight, so no need to worry about a thing. How about we enjoy a cozy dinner at your place, just the two of us?"

You couldn't help but smile at his proposal. "That sounds perfect, Joel."

and the two of you improvised a romantic dinner at your dining table, complete with candlelight and a cozy ambiance. You realized that being together at home, in such a comfortable and familiar setting, was just as special as going out. In fact, it might have been even better. You were in your little bubble and nobody’s watching as how you could love in secret.

As you shared a meal and talked, Joel's presence reassured you that he genuinely cared for you and wanted to make your relationship work. The date, despite its unusual setting, turned out to be a beautiful and memorable evening that brought you closer together.

Following the romantic dinner, the two of you went to the living room and cuddled up on the couch. You decided to keep the night cozy by watching a movie together.

You nestled against Joel's side as the opening titles rolled on the screen, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer. You could feel his warmth and the steady cadence of his heartbeat.

You nestled against Joel's side as the opening titles rolled on the screen, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer. You could feel his warmth and the steady cadence of his heartbeat.

The movie was playing, but your focus was mostly on each other. You shared soft smiles and giggling while discussing the film and created your own special moments. The bond between you felt stronger than ever, and it was clear that this one-of-a-kind date night was bringing you closer together.

Joel kissed your forehead, and his tender gesture filled your heart with joy. "I'm so glad you're here with me, Bee."

You looked into his eyes, experiencing the intensity of his feelings. “Are you staying tonight?” you asked.

Joel looked at you with a soft, affectionate smile, his eyes filled with warmth. "If you'll have me, Bee, I'd love to stay tonight."

You returned his smile, feeling a sense of contentment and happiness. "I'd like that, Joel."

Joel leaned in and placed another gentle kiss on your forehead. "I love you, Bee."

You smiled, your heart full of affection and a renewed sense of hope. "I love you too, Joel."

“Now, come to bed with me” you invited him

Joel's eyes sparkled with affection as he took your hand and stood up from the couch. "I'd love nothing more."

You led him to the bedroom, where the warm, inviting glow of soft lighting embraced you both. In each other's arms, you found the comfort and serenity that had eluded you for so long. The journey of healing and rebuilding your relationship was a process, but it was a journey worth taking, especially with Joel by your side.

As you settled into bed together, wrapped in each other's embrace, the world faded away. You knew there might still be challenges ahead, but with the love you shared, you felt ready to face anything.

With a whispered "goodnight," you closed your eyes, drifting into a peaceful and love-filled sleep, cherishing the presence of the man who had captured your heart. And as the night wore on, you and Joel found solace in each other's arms. This time, the story being written was real.

Next day, the first Sunday light of dawn painted the room in soft golden shades, you stirred awake, finding Joel still peacefully asleep beside you with his arm tightly wrapped around your waist, as if was preventing letting you go from his grasp. You couldn’t help but smile at seeing him in this light, which reflected his features just for you to witness.

You wanted to reached for his face and tracing delicate patterns on his face, but instead you kissed him softly on his forehead, and slipped out of the bed, careful to not disturb his slumber.

You felt refreshed and better in comparison to last night, and you blushed at the thought of Joel being the one who had made you felt like this.

So, in this morning, at your place, the aroma of fresh coffee waved through the air as you prepared breakfast for the both of you.

As you prepared breakfast in the sunlit kitchen, the sound of sizzling eggs and cracking dishes mixed with the smell of made coffee. Joel, suddenly awake and attracted by the appealing aroma, walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around you from behind.

"Good morning," he said, softly kissing your neck. Instantly sending shivers down your spine. “Feeling better?”

You turned around to face him, placing your hands in the back of his neck “A lot better” you said, smiling.

As he pulled you close, Joel's eyes gleamed with an incandescent glow. "I'm glad," he said softly, his thumb stroking against your cheek. The early morning light displayed your shared grins, a silent expression of love in a language you both were learning. 

The world outside appeared to drift away as you stood there, wrapped in one other's arms. It was just the two of you, enjoying the simple joys of a morning together. The sound of eggs sizzling and plates clinking offered a relaxing routine at the start of the day.

Joel leaned in for another kiss, this time on your lips, with a cheeky sparkle in his eyes. The affectionate atmosphere of the moment spoke volumes, an unspoken language of affection. You couldn't help but chuckle as you pulled away, the sound filling the kitchen with a lightness that matched the fixing that was taking place in your world. 

Breakfast continued with shared laughter and stolen glances, filling the air with a sense of renewed strings pulling you together.

 You both stayed in the kitchen after the meal, enjoying the comfort of each other's company. Joel's fingertips stroked soft patterns on the back of your hand, a small gesture that echoed his devotion to you. 

Joel's eyes met yours with a mischievous grin. He closed the gap between you without saying anything, his lips meeting yours in a soft yet intense kiss. The warmth of his grasp along with the softness of his lips, drove an unconscious delay of time. As the kiss deepened, the world outside dissipated

When you inevitably pulled away to breathe, your eyes sank into the brown color of his eyes, expressing the feelings that now could be shared without fear. Joel cupped your cheek with his hand, his thumb lightly brushing against your skin. As if he convincing himself that you were real and this moment wouldn't be taken away from him. 

"Good morning, again," he said softly, a smile on his lips.

"Good morning, indeed," you responded, your fingertips drawing light patterns on his chest. The connection between you was real and confirmed the that new chapter in your relationship was genuine and long-lasting.

Joel's hand stayed on your cheek, a loving confirmation. "I could get used to mornings like this," he conceded, his eyes shining with affection.

You leaned in for another little kiss, savoring the joy of the moment, with a quiet chuckle.

Joel returned your kiss with delicate intensity, his fingers running through your hair as if calming down the shared passion. Every touch, every shared breath spoke of a love that survived storms you thought would never end. 

Joel's lips curved into a sweet smile as you drew back, and he placed his forehead against yours, savoring your closeness.

"I feel like the luckiest person alive right now," he said, his voice a quiet murmur reflecting the emotions expressed in this intimate moment.

"I feel pretty lucky, too," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Joel's eyes mirrored your own, resulting in a wordless understanding that went beyond words.

Joel's thumb traced soft circles on your cheek, a comforting gesture that brought the two of you back to the present moment. He went for another kiss; he couldn’t help but savoring each second of this morning with you.

This kiss deepened, time seemed to slow down, allowing you both to get lost in the quiet urgency of the moment. The world beyond the shell you'd made in the kitchen vanished, leaving only the warmth of each other's lips and the smooth rhythm of your shared kiss.

Joel's fingers found their way to the small of your back, drawing you in closer, as if attempting to bridge the gap between your hearts. The magnetic pull of the kiss held a quiet urgency, as if both of you were reveling in the depth of emotions that had been rekindled.

Joel grabbed your face tighter, and pushed you backward until your back bumped into the counter, with more forced that intended.

"Easy there, tiger," you teased, joy dancing in your eyes as you slapped his chest playfully.

Joel, feeling the playful mood, smiled mischievously. "Just trying to make the morning a little more fun," he said, his fingers still gently tracing lines on your cheek.

"Well, mission accomplished," you said, your lingering laughter filling the space “There will be more time for that” you added.

Instead of using words, Joel leaned to stole one more kiss from you and told you he had to go home now.

Joel broke the kiss with a sweet smile, his fingertips lightly brushing against your cheek.

"I should go home," he said quietly, his voice a delicate caress in the air.

You nodded in understanding “Go before Sarah thinks I stole her dad”

Once he was ready to go, you walked him to the door. The shared smiles and unspoken feelings filled the air as if you were living a golden world of love.

Joel pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture filled with devotion to you.

"Until next time," he whispered, and with that, he stepped out.

Closing the door behind him, you leaned against it, a smile playing on your lips. You felt like a teenager figuring out what love was for the first time.

And just as you were lost in your own thoughts, there came a gentle knock at the door. Surprised, you opened it to find Joel standing there again with a conflicted expression, and tinted cheeks on a crimson color.

"Hey," he said, a nervous tone in his voice. “Before I go, I was wondering if you would like to be my girlfriend, for real this time?"

a/n: See?Just fluff.

What would you like to see in the next chapter?👀

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42 @paleidiot @harriedandharassed @runningmom94 @pedr0swh0r3 @ssacharcoalgrey @missladym1981 @littleshadow17

[jowrites]

Intoxicated - 14. That's embarassing (written)

Main Masterlist Here

Prev. Next.

TW: MDNR!!!! Seriously, this one if going to be very s e x heavy, cursing, sexual themes, MENTIONS OF SA read at your own risk, more to come...

Taglist: @heeeseeungs

Jake held tight of YN’s hand as the two of them made their way down the sidewalk back to the Enha House. Jake couldn’t wait to get out of there, he had no interest in the game. But since it made YN happy, he’d do whatever to make sure she stays happy. There was a nice silence between them, something he appreciated. He liked that she liked the silence just as much as he did and between them in secret was when they shared their thoughts and opinions. They didn’t judge each other, but encouraged each other.

“YN!” Someone shouted behind them, both turning around and seeing Wonyoung come up to them, her arms crossing her chest.

“Oh, hi,” YN smiled at the girl.

“Since when did this happen?” she asked, her eyes not leaving Jake’s.

“Why do you care?” Jake muttered.

“You know why, Jake,” Wonyoung rolled her eyes.

“Uhm…is everything okay?” YN asked, looking between the two.

“Everythings fine,” Jake said.

“No, actually,” Wonyoung said. “I’m not fine.”

“Wonyoung, Hi YN,” Yujin came up to Wonyoung with Karina and Chaewon trailing behind her.

“Can you tame your dog, please? She’s gotten out barking,” Jake said, causing the girls to gasp.

“Jake, don’t be so mean,” YN said, nudging his shoulder.

“Dog? DOG?” Wonyoung yelled. “I’ll show you barking!”

“Jake, that was uncalled for, Wonyoung let’s go,” Karina said, trying to drag the girl away.

“No, is that what you think of me? Why you never answered any of my texts or talked to me? I’m just a dog?” Wonyoung asked. 

“Yes, YN, let’s go,” Jake said.

“Wait, what’s going on?” YN asked.

“He was mine first, YN,” Wonyoung said. “I’ve liked him since year 1! He was mine!”

“Okay, Wonnie, that’s uncalled for,” Karina said. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, what?” YN asked, even more confused.

“No, I was never yours. You just didn’t take no for an answer and wouldn’t stop pestering me like a little fly, fuck off!” Jake said.

“Oh whatever-what? I wasn’t good enough for you? I was just trying to get to know you but you didn’t let me and then she came into the picture and what? You’re all over her?” Wonyoung screamed.

“Yes, exactly! I didn’t care! And you never stopped, that’s on you, Wonyoung, not me,” Jake yelled back. “And this has nothing to do with YN.”

“Wonyoung, stop, you’re making a scene,” Yujin said.

“But you didn’t even give me a chance! If you just gave me a chance-” Wonyoung said, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m a fucking catch, Jake Sim, if you just looked at me and gave me a chance-”

“Oh my God, shut up, both of you!” YN said, making everyone stop and look at her.

“Wonyoung,” Yujin said. 

“Jake, apologize for calling her names, that was mean,” YN said. “And Wonyoung, when no means no, then it’s no. You’re embarrassing yourself over a man? Have some self respect.”

“You don’t get it,” Wonyoung said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m sorry for calling you a dog,” Jake said. 

“What?” Wonyoung said.

“He apologized, Won, let’s go!” Yujin said. “Sorry guys, for disturbing you.”

“No, you actually mean it?” Wonyoung asked Jake.

“Yeah, YN was right, that was mean. I’m sorry, now I am asking you for the hundredth time, please, leave me alone and leave YN alone. Please, how many times do I have to say it? Move on, find someone that will actually give you the time of day,” Jake said.

“But I don’t want anyone else,” Wonyoung said, tears going down her face, crying.

“Oh Jesus, girl, hold yourself together!” Karina said, shaking Wonyoungs shoulders.

YN just facepalmed herself, sighing. 

“It was nice seeing you guys,” YN said, smiling and taking Jake's arm and turning away.

“You too, YN, we should have lunch soon!” Karina said.

“Sorry about this, YN, enjoy your night!” Yujin said as Chaewon and Yujin comforted a crying Wonyoung. 

Karina just stood there shaking her head at the girl. How embarrassing.

Jake sighed out, wrapping YN to his side as she placed her head on his shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“Not really, not much to say. That girl never left me alone, even when I kept rejecting her she just wouldn’t stop.”

“And here you were worried about me having stalkers.”

“Hey, I can defend myself over a crazy Wonyoung, you on the other hand…”

“I can defend myself! I know how to fight!”

“Mhm, that’s nice, love.”

Suddenly, YN punched Jake in the side, causing him to lean over and groan in pain as she ran off ahead of him giggling. Jake regained his composure and chuckled, following after her as they ran to the house. YN ran up the stairs, being the first ones back at the house so it was quiet except for the people setting up for the after party. 

She made her way to Jake’s room throwing herself on his bed and laughing as he finally made his way in there. Closing and locking the door behind them.

“That was quite naughty of you.”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

She smirked up at him, his body towering over her before he grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a quick kiss, pulling away with a bite of her lip and leaving her with a whine.

“Absolutely nothing.”

He smirked, leaving her body hot and bothered as she threw herself back and whined.

“Jake, that’s mean!”

“Is it?” He sat down on his chair across from her.

“I want to make out.”

She got up, straddling his waist and grabbing his face to smash her lips on his. He was so weak for her and couldn’t resist. His hands automatically went to her hips, both of them getting each other worked up. They made out with haste on his chair, her hips absentmindedly grinding on his and he immediately pulled away pushing her up.

“Did I do something?” she asked.

“N-no, just,” Jake cleared his throat. 

“I-I’m ready if you are,” she said, playing with his shirt.

“C-can we wait?” He asked, more like forced out. 

Oh, he wanted it. But he couldn’t.

“Y-yeah, of course, sorry.”

Jake could hear the disappointment in her voice, her eyes looking anywhere but his and he wanted to just hold her there forever and tell her it wasn’t her, it was him.

“No, baby, just kiss me,” Jake said, grabbing her to kiss him again.

Throughout the night, as the party went on, they just talked, kissed, and he held her. He could tell something was on her mind and when she got up at 1 AM to leave, he knew he made her sad. He walked her home and the way home was silent.

“YN, it’s not you, it’s me. I want it to be special and it will be, okay?” he told her, kissing the top of her head as she nodded.

“I know, don’t worry. I was disappointed but you’re right. We shouldn’t rush into this and thank you for taking your time with me,” she said, giving his lips a kiss. “I just got ahead of myself over something.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

She sighed, biting her lips and looking up at him.

“Over a year ago during my first year something happened. My innocence was stolen from me without my consent,” she admitted and Jake’s jaw clenched. He looked down at her just staring.

“Who was it?” Jake asked, venom in his voice. “YN who was it?”

“It doesn’t matter but,” YN said, her voice trembling.

“It matters to me. I’ll kill them,” Jake said.

“No, no Jake,” YN said, sighing. “I’m over it, okay? It did destroy me for a little bit and made me scared…”

“Is that why you hide?” he asked, she nodded. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay, Jake, really,” YN said. “Hey, look at me.”

YN reached up, grabbing his face and putting their heads together, his eyes immediately closing.

“I thought I’d be afraid for the rest of my life to be touched and be intimate, but then I met you and that all changed and I thought,” YN began, swallowing. “No, I knew that if anyone were to have me, really have me because I said so, it’d be you. It’s going to be you. I got excited and got ahead of myself, but I can wait.”

“Fuck, YN,” he sighed out. “What are you doing to me?”

His hands gripped her waist, he knew would leave marks and she giggled.

“When the time is right,” YN said, kissing his lips. “Get home safe, okay?”

“Ugh, now I don’t want to leave,” he whined.

“Then don’t,” she said, taking his hand. “Stay the night?”

And that was how Jake found himself wrapped in her covers, her body already soundly asleep in his arms. But his mind was elsewhere. Just who in their right mind hurt this sweet girl? His sweet girl. He was going to find out what happened, and who it was. One way or another. And he knew he had to deal with his shit before he could even give himself to her fully. Right now, he just wanted to hurt anyone who hurt her. How dare they?

[desertfangs]

Book Meme Thing!

Tagged by @leslutdepointedulac

1) The last book I read:

Pandora by Anne Rice. I reread it for the first time in forever and forgot how much I love her.

2) A book I recommend:

Two of my favorite non-VC vampire books are:

Bloodshot by Cherie Priest. It's a fun story about a vampire thief in Seattle and her (very relunctant) found family. There's a sequel as well.

The Coldest Girl in Coldtown by Holly Black. Cool vampire lore, definitely some Ricean inspiration, great story.

3) A book that I couldn’t put down:

The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch. It's like Ocean's 11 in a fantasy Venetian-style world.

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more):

Feed by Mira Grant (and Deadline and Blackout, the next two books in the series.) It's zombies, journalists, government conspiracies, and did I mention zombies?

5) A book on my TBR:

I've had Strong Female Character by Fern Brady sitting on my shelf since December so I need to get to that soon. She was so funny on Taskmaster but I'm also curious to read about her experiences with autism.

6) A book I’ve put down:

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. See also Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. I don't know, these kinds of books just don't do it for me. Also, I gave up on ASOIAF in the middle of A Clash of Kings.

7) A book on my wish list:

asdfghjk; I don't know! I guess I'm exciting for Kathy Reichs' next Temperance Brennan book in August?

8) A favorite book from childhood:

Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing by Judy Blume. I read that book and so many times.

9) A book you would give to a friend:

It depends on the friend! One that I would give to pretty much everyone is Last Chance to See by Douglas Adams and Mark Carwardine. It's a nonfiction book about their trip to see nearly-extinct animals and it's hilarious and heartbreaking. (The later documentary with Mark and Stephen Fry is also amazing.)

10) A book of poetry or lyrics that you own:

I have a book of poetry by Yeats. (I am not super into poetry, I appreciate it when it's shared with me but I rarely seek it out.)

11) A nonfiction book you own:

On Writing by Stephen King.

12) What are you currently reading:

Actually currently beta reading a friend's cozy mystery novel.

13) What are you planning on reading next?:

I want to reread TVA and Blood and Gold. I also have ten million audible credits I need to use so I can cancel audible so recommendations are welcome! I love non-fiction on audio especially (actually just got Loveless based on prev's recommendation.)

tagging: @rebel-revenant, @this-writer-needs-coffee, @uncivilcivilservice, @kaelio, @aunteat (But only if you feel like it!)

[amjustagirl]

Chapter 5: Sparks fly

chapters: 5/15 pairing: miya osamu x f! reader genre: romance, angst, fluff, inarizaki shenanigans wc: 6.5k summary: miya osamu does not dare set fire to his heart. it burns anyway.

(prev / next)

Miya Osamu is not quick to anger except when it comes to his idiot brother. 

But Kaiyo is sorely testing his patience today. 

“What do you mean you invited her along our trip?!” he demands, chasing her around the counter in her store as Atsumu films his antics on his phone. Osamu doesn’t even care that Shin-chan and Sho-chan are both gawking at the spectacle of all the adults in their lives behaving like children, because Kaiyo is interfering with his life in the most infuriating of ways yet again and she’s not even the least bit apologetic about it. 

“Pfft!” she sticks out her tongue to blow raspberries. 

He grabs at her fruitlessly as she hops about his shop, nimbly dodging his attacks. “Come back here, you gremlin - ”

“Why can’t I invite my friend on a trip?” she wheedles, blinking doe-eyed at him. 

He does not buy her act, not when she’s responsible for tossing Ichika almost literally into Kita’s lap, not when she’s responsible for engineering Sakusa’s first meeting with Asami - never mind the fact that the two couples in question are very happily married with children to boot. He does not appreciate such interference, and yet Kaiyo irrepressibly grasps every chance she has to toss him on the tracks of the marriage train. 

“Cos you’re tryin’ to set me up and I don’t appreciate it - don’t think I can’t see what you’re tryin’ to do - ”

“It’s not like I asked her to marry you?!” Kaiyo squawks, using ‘Tsumu as a shield. “Why can’t I have a friend on the trip? She’s friends with all of us, and she mentioned she’s never had much opportunity to leave the city, so why shouldn’t she come along with us?” 

“Because -” 

“It’s not gonna be awkward if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s gonna have her own room and it’s not like I’m asking you to babysit her - she’s a grown adult, and not Sho-chan.”

“ - gonna play with ‘Asami-chan, don’t wan’ Uncle ‘Samu -” 

“Because -” 

“Kaiyo’s right - ‘Samu, you’re complainin’ so much you’re gonna give Kaiyo the wrong idea - ”

“- the right idea you mean -” 

“Uncle ‘Samu, y’know your face is turnin’ purple - wait lemme take a photo and send it to Ma-kun -”

“ENOUGH!” 

Four pairs of eyes turn to stare at him.  

Seething waves ease into ripples of resignation. There isn’t actually any good reason why you shouldn’t be invited along other than the fact he sees through Kaiyo’s transparent attempt at  trying to set him up with you, and even he wants to stomp his foot and pull out his hair in frustration - very much not helped by the fact that Atsumu is just watching him with that ridiculously cheesy grin - there’s nothing he can do but give in to Kaiyo’s scheming. 

“Fine”, he says, grinding his teeth down. “Have it your way.” 

Kaiyo whoops. He resolves to conveniently sell out of her favourite onigiris for a week at least. 

It’s not that he dislikes your company. Far from it, really. 

Contrary to his protests, he likes spending time with you - who else is he going to debate with about the best way to choose tuna, or the best knife to use in the kitchen (Kaiyo was very pleased when you realised you’d always worked with her family knives). Bad days are better when you smile at you from across the counter, he can’t help but chuckle under his breath when you send him videos of Kombu-chan scaring your other neighbour’s dog away from your door before trotting back to you smugly for some treats. 

You’re his friend. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He’d like to keep it that way.  

Back in his high school days when his teammates would chat idly about their preferences in a partner, he’d share that his type would be someone who’s kind, generous and sweet, preferably someone who’d like food as much as he - ‘Tsumu laughed at him and shouted that what he wants is some  boring, goody-two shoes glutton - Aran and Kita thankfully always stepped in to throttle him and remind him to be respectful before Osamu could even throw the first punch and beat him into the dust.

He’s not blind. He knows you’re what he wants, if only he were looking. 

You’re not the first girl Kaiyo has tried setting him up with. But every single date he begrudgingly goes on inevitably ends with him breaking out the cliched it’s not you, it’s me. His singlehood is probably the only thing his okaa-san is more disappointed in him than Tsumu. 

“‘’Tsumu already spawned two monsters, ‘ka-sannn.”

“The more the merrier, Osamu”, she’d always reply. “Surely you can;t blame me for wantin’ my sweet, sensitive boy to be happy - ”

“I am happy.” he’d insist. “Don’t worry about me.” 

He’s going to rub it in Atsumu’s face on their joint deathbeds at the age of one hundred and eight (because either going to meet their maker first is a scenario too terrible to imagine) that he’s had a happier life. He already has everything that makes him happy - his restaurant, the first sprouting into the second before branching out into the third. He has his crew, he has ‘Tsumu and Kaiyo and the kids practically eatin’ him out of house and home, he has his customers who stream in and out of his store with bellies full of food, hearts full of joy. 

He’s happy. 

“Do you ever miss any of this?” he asked you once, jutting his chin out at the expanse of his restaurant, all forty something wooden seats occupied, orders flying in and out of the kitchen while a hungry line snakes out of the front door. 

“Only sometimes”, you reply, looking as if you’ve bitten something bitter. 

But he’s seen the notes you scribble in the dog-eared notebooks you tote around, on cooking techniques that you learnt from your father and his father before him. He’s seen you record with painstaking care the findings of experiments you two have been conducting in his kitchen to the amusement of his staff.

“Really?” he asks. 

“Hmm…there are little things that I miss about it now”, you reply slowly. “Seeing people smile is…kinda nice.” 

The clouds clear. The sun peeks through. 

But then something sours in your expression when you drop your gaze down to the knife you’re holding. He does not miss the slight tremble of your hands nor the faint lines of scars running up your forearms to your elbows. “What happened?” he’d asked you about it once. 

“I was five and kinda clumsy”, you replied, as if it explains everything. 

It doesn’t. It only makes him want to pound something into the ground. 

He digresses. 

His restaurant makes him happy. It’s all that’s needed to make him happy. 

After all, he has no desire to be like Atsumu, inviting a storm into his life when he’s unprepared to weather it out. Commitment - he doesn’t want to be responsible for another broken heart. It’d be easy to date around or get married, but what’s the point if he’ll just be a terrible partner, with his long hours and demanding career. He won’t even contemplate children. There’s no time for that when he already has three restaurants under his belt, delicate green saplings he’s determined to nurture into grand, old oaks. 

“You are crazy for taking him back”, he tells Kaiyo bluntly the night she begged him to accompany Atsumu for drinks with her brothers, fearful that her newly returned husband might be maimed from the encounter. 

She answers with a wry shrug. 

“He’s already left you. Twice, in fact, unless you broke your head and forgot all about that.”

He’s been there in the wake of her heartbreak at the hands of his twin brother. First, he had to beat ‘Tsumu black and blue until he learnt his responsibility to the daughter he put in her belly. Second, he had to hold her together when ‘Tsumu left until she welded the broken pieces of herself back together. Despite having her heart broken again and again, she still keeps taking Atsumu back. 

“He asked me to jump off a cliff with him” she explained when he remonstrated with her. 

“How romantic.”

“Osamu!” she huffs. “You’ll understand one day when it’s your turn to fall in love.” 

“Never.”

“You wait and see”, she teases. 

He’s about to retort that he’ll never be as ridiculous as she is but he’s interrupted by Atsumu stirring from his drunken stupor from a night out with her brothers, all determined to drink him into alcohol poisoning. 

“I’m here”, she goes to him as Atsumu murmurs her name. He looks away when she takes his brother’s hand. 

Perhaps she’s finally found domestic bliss with Atsumu, who now seems to be the epitome of a family man. But Osamu isn’t convinced that he can do better than his brother. Outwardly, despite their identical faces, they seem like polar opposites. Atsumu is loud mouthed, Osamu is soft spoken. Atsumu is a dick, Osamu tries his best to be polite. But as Shinsuke has always noted, they share the same DNA, the same genetic sequencing, built from the same material. 

How different can he truly be from his twin?

Atsumu’s not the only one with with a fraught marriage. He’s consoled patrons both young and old when they come in with their faces glum, caused by cheating spouses, deadbeats, partners who vanish without a trace. He’s seen what marriage has done to his own friends - Gintama’s in a loveless union with someone who treats him like dirt (just leave already, he says, but his friend only shrugs), and Suna - well, less said about that disaster, the better. Kita has a rock solid marriage, but that’s because he’s practically a god with no faults of his own. 

Osamu, on the other hand, has so many flaws of his own. It’s only prudent that he not gamble with someone else’s happiness. Kaiyo can do so with hers, it’s her life, her prerogative, but he’s not going to subject some innocent third party to the ticking time bomb tucked inside him, hardwired to explode. 

“‘Samu!” 

Something twists in his gut when he finds you waiting on the train platform. Your hair is askew and you’re wearing probably the ugliest flannel shirt known to mankind in an attempt to look like a farm girl, but the bright smile on your face when you catch sight of him is contagious, and he can’t keep happiness from spreading like wildfire, greeting you with a smile of his own. 

“I’m so glad you’re here”, you say. “Here, take my suitcase for me. I nearly died lugging it here.”

He stumbles under the weight of said suitcase when loading it into the train and curses aloud. Kaiyo only gives him a thumbs up though Atsumu makes a show of clapping his hands over Shoma’s ears. “What on earth did you pack for this trip, the entire combini?” he demands, when he locates your seats - next to each other, courtesy of Kaiyo, of course. 

“Presents for the kids!” you reply, rifling through the huge container of things you’ve deemed necessary for a week-long trip. “A castella cake for Kita-san’s granny, Kaiyo mentioned she has a fondness for that. And I know it’s customary to bring fruit as presents for our hosts, but I figured they get better produce out in the farmlands so I popped into the department stores to get some expensive mochi and sweet treats, hopefully they’ll like that.” 

“I hope they don’t like it too much or they’ll end up with a mouthful of cavities”, he says drolly, shaking his head at your generosity. 

You roll your eyes at him before admitting sheepishly. “I…didn’t know what to bring for them. I’ve never really gone on a trip like this before. So I may have overdone it.”

“I’ll eat it all if they can’t finish it.”

You smack his shoulder. “That’s your motive for being discouraging, you sneaky bugger”, you accuse him. 

“You’re still gonna give me one anyway”, he says, unrepentant. 

Despite your outrage, you still plop a sweet into his palms and he settles back in his seat, satisfied. The train trundles on, its swaying lulling you to sleep, your head finding a pillow on the shelf of his shoulders. It’s only to be expected, because you stubbornly hung around the restaurant til closing last night despite having a night shift the night before. He wraps his jacket around you because it’s the decent thing to do, and does not even mind when you mumble incoherent nonsense and drool against his sleeve.  

(Okaa-san raised one of ‘em right, at least) 

“Aww”, Kaiyo coos, leaning over the top of the seat like a student on a school trip. “How adorable.” 

He expects her to snap a photo or do something that would set his teeth on edge, but she sticks out her pinky finger at him. “I offer a truce to my favourite brother in law.” 

“I’m your only brother in law.” 

“C’mon! It’s a generous offer! I solemnly swear I won’t try anything on this trip”. She pouts when he only glares at her. “What!” she squawks, indignant. “Why don’t you believe me?!” 

He’d stand up to throttle her, but that’d mean waking you up from your much needed nap so he tucks you against his shoulder securely before settling for a cat-like swat of Kaiyo’s hand. 

“Cos you’re a bundle of trouble”, he states flatly. 

“I forget how stubborn you can be sometimes”, she groans, wiggling her pinky insistently. “C’mon, I won’t push but promise me you’ll be a good friend to her and help her enjoy this trip? She deserves that much at least.” 

“I’m not an asshole. I was gonna do that anyway.” 

Her eyes dance with amusement. “And I promise to behave, if that helps you relax.” 

While he’s inclined not to trust her, he links his pinky with hers. “Don’t push her over the mountaintop in some misguided attempt at matchmaking, that’s all I’m sayin’” he quips.

“C’mon”, she yelps, outraged. “I wasn’t even in Hyogo when Ichika decided to fall off that damned mountain, and I was just tryin’ to give Kita a gentle push in the right direction - ”

She trails off as he gives her a look, knowing that she’s not helping her own case. 

“Promise you’ll be good”, Osamu warns. 

She rolls her eyes. “I’m always good.”  

“No interfering”, Osamu says firmly. 

“No interfering”, Kaiyo parrots, pouting. 

“Swear that you’ll stop your matchmaking attempts on your idiot husband’s life.” 

She snorts. “I swear on my idiot husband’s life.” 

“Hey!” Atsumu protests, but he’s distracted when Shoma wordlessly starts pasting a whole sheet of food stickers on him.

Fortunately, you continue snoring despite the commotion, even as the train pulls away from the city grid, concrete blocks of apartments and shops giving way to sloping green fields and hills that rise out of the earth. He settles back into his seat, careful not to jostle you, going through orders and paperwork on his tablet until the lightbulb shining overhead is overshadowed by dawn’s arrival. 

“I don’t understand why you take so many night shifts”, he grouses as he walks you home. 

You hum. Previously, you might’ve told him to just stop coming by the combini which he does without fail, at least once a week, but he always claims that he needs a breather after the intense mornings he has, rushing to the fish market at the crack of dawn, arranging for rice to be cooked, stocked to be boiled, all before it’s even eight o’clock in the morning. So now you just accept his complaints with equanimity. 

Today though, summer is well and truly dying. Fall takes its place so the mornings are a little lazier, the sun rises a little later. You stop at the end of the road where the sidewalk ends, and morning traffic begins, tilting your face to the sky. 

“I like seeing the sun rise”, you say softly. “I wonder what today brings.”   

As the sun climbs over the horizon, spilling its light across the sky like fire in pink shades and gold hues, he takes hold of your shoulder, shaking you gently awake. “Wake up”, he murmurs, snorting under his breath when you squeeze your eyes shut. “It’s too early”, you grumble, but still, you obediently blink open your eyes. 

“The sun doesn’t seem to think so”, he jokes, offering you a sip of hot tea from his thermos flask as you rub the heels of your hands into your eyes until like the earth, you slowly awake. 

“G’morning ‘Samu”, you murmur. 

The greeting pulls at the knot in his gut, though his heart is light with a feeling he does not recognise yet. “Good morning”, he replies, taking the liberty of brushing the hair out of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. “Thought you might wanna see the sunrise.” 

“I see it quite a lot these days”, you laugh, but when you turn your head, your mouth forms an adorable o! and he chuckles as he changes seats with you. 

“I thought you see it quite a lot these days?” he teases as you press your cheek against the glass. 

“Shhh. It’s so different out of the city”, you whisper, breath fogging up the cool window, obviously spellbound. 

He wants to steal a bite of your childish delight for himself. “So what do you think of it?”

“Mm? Tis pretty” you murmur, gazing out of the window, eyes aglow.  

“Yeah”, he replies, voice gruff. He doesn’t realise he’s looking at you, not the sun.

Kita’s waiting for them at the station with a colourful, glittery sign that spells out WELCOME!, the kanji stark against the dull browns and greys of the village parking lot. Clearly the doing of his wife and daughters, but he waves it sportingly over his head, bowing politely when everyone emerges, a little dishevelled from the long train ride. 

“Did Asami make that?” Atsumu chortles gleefully, pointing at the banner. 

“Yes”, Kita responds placidly. “By the way, you have a sticker on your cheek, Atsumu.” 

Between the two former captains of Inarizaki, you snort at how clear it is to see who comes off the worse in that encounter, as Atsumu struggles to peel the bright coloured onigiri sticker from his cheek (Shoma, the perpetrator, holding his mother’s hand, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth) and Kita gives one last merry jiggle of the bedazzled poster before setting it down in his van, looking every inch the proud father of three daughters.  

You bow politely when he turns to greet you. “It’s nice to meet you”, he says as Osamu lifts your suitcase into the back of his van. You could’ve sworn his lips quirk up ever so slightly as he adds “you must be Osamu’s friend”, and you wonder if you’re left out of an inside joke when he glances at Kaiyo from the corner of his eyes and Osamu chokes, but you’re too distracted thumping Osamu’s back in an attempt to stop him from hacking his lungs out to pay Kita’s strange behaviour any mind. You promptly forget that strange incident when everyone’s loaded onto the truck and starts the journey towards the farm. 

Autumn in Hyogo is transcendent. 

The maple trees on fire, leaf tips tinted gold. The yellow foliage of gingko trees in the gorge you drive past, the hues of orange and amber of fallen leaves, the rolling hills and vast valleys. You’re almost reluctant to leave the van because you’re still awestruck by the beauty of the Japanese countryside in all its autumn glory, but Osamu bumps your shoulder. 

“I’ll drive you out to see it all again, if you want”, he offers, so you step out of the van to take charge of your suitcase and offer the proper greeting to your hosts who’ve so kindly agreed to put you up in the guest house. 

“It’s so nice to meet you!” Ichika, Kita-san’s wife chirps, her trio of daughters clustered around her legs. “I hope you’ll be happy here.” 

“I already am”, you tell her truthfully, because with views like that, you forget all your troubles, leave your worries behind. Besides, you already feel at ease with Ichika and her family by extension, because her warm manner is welcoming, and she’s clearly someone Kaiyo adores, your friend tossing herself bodily at Ichika, bawling into her shoulder that it’s been too long, I need to kidnap you from your husband, said husband looking both amused and concerned about the imminent disappearance of his wife. 

“I’m glad”, she says, when she finally untangles herself from the octopus-like grip of her best friend with the help of Atsumu, ushering you up a slope where your lodgings for the next week await. Kaiyo’s mentioned her best friend runs a guesthouse that’s comfortable and clean in her multiple attempts to persuade you to tag along, but she’s clearly omitted the fact that the minshuku the Kitas own in their vast rice farm has blossomed into a stately property, twelve sprawling rooms with traditional tatami floors, a communal bathhouse, even barbeque pits on the sides for picnics under the stars. 

Shoma’s already disappeared with the eldest of the Kita brood, while Shino’s already set up shop in the family room, video-calling Meian Makoto as her Atsumu glowers, until he’s dragged into a conversation with Kita and his brother. Kaiyo disappears off to greet and gossip with Granny, leaving you alone with Ichika, who brings you to your room. 

“You have a beautiful place”, you say. “Thank you for letting me stay with you.” 

“A friend of Kaiyo’s is a friend of mine”, she replies, and you find yourself beaming back at her, her cheerfulness contagious. “And thank you for your kind words! I always try to have Kaiyo and her family come over for as long as they can in autumn, though it’s a pity Atsumu has to leave early-”

“You’re just happy to get Kaiyo to yourself”, the man in question interjects. Ichika just turns her nose up at him.

“- And as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I personally think the minshuku is at its best in autumn when the leaves change colour and the entire valley looks like it’s on fire. Plus, the harvest is over and we can actually relax, but Shinsuke always disagrees and says it’s best in spring for some reason.” 

“The farm is at it’s best in spring when the flowers blossom”, Kita Shinsuke pipes up, warmth evident in his eyes as he gazes at his wife. “You should come back in spring, see the farm transform into a sea of flowers in bloom.” 

Ichika laughs, curling an arm around her husband’s lean waist. “We’re both biased in our own ways. I love the farm in fall because that when I first visited the farm - at Kaiyo’s suggestion, no less - and promptly fell in love with my wonderful husband right here - ” Kita promptly turns so red in embarrassment, you wonder if he’s impersonating a traffic sign though he just pulls his wife closer, shaking his head with exasperation - “Whereas he’s a romantic and loves spring best ‘cos that’s when we got married, right Shin?” 

 Kita sighs but answers stoically - “that’s right, dear heart.”

Even though he’s clearly embarrassed, the look of open affection is clear to see. Then they catch each other’s eye and oh - the magical glimmer of lovelight in their eyes, like fireflies on a summer’s night, makes your heart wrench. 

“Oi! ‘Chika, she’s gonna keel over from the journey, can you stop mooning over your husband -” 

“Miya Osamu, I swear you’re becoming more and more like your idiot brother - ”

“Hey!”

You’re ushered into your room, alone yet overcrowded with your thoughts. You should unpack, take a breather and maybe take a shower before offering some help to prepare dinner. Surely with so many people on the farm they’ll definitely need help with food and it’s really the least you can do. But as you’re about to leave your room you hear a clatter of something clearly metallic outside your door. 

“What on earth - Osamu, did you actually bring your own knives? Do you actually think Granny’s gonna let you anywhere near her kitchen, at least tonight - ”

Miya Osamu clearly shares the same thought as you. 

“C’mon, ‘Chika”, you hear Osamu grumble as you emerge from your room. “Let me cook for y’all so I don’t feel so much like a damned parasite - ”

“Absolutely not”, your hostess declares with the manner of an offended kitten. “You’re here for a holiday, which you hardly ever take for yourself, I know that ‘cos Kaiyo always complains that you work too hard.” 

“Then what am I supposed to do?” he says mournfully, arms full of sharp knives but still managing to look like a lost child. You find it absolutely adorable.  

(put that thought on ice) 

Ichika’s mouth stretches wide into a cheshire grin, turning to address you, the unwitting collateral damage in their exchange. “It’s your first time visiting Asago right? That means you’ve not had the chance to see the Takeda castle ruins, and it’s the perfect time to see it in the fall. ‘Samu will bring you, won’t he?” 

Osamu just glares as if she’s mortally insulted him. 

“It’s okay, I can just stay here and explore the farm”, you demur, but Ichika starts chattering a mile a minute about how everyone else is occupied - the children at the duck pond, Kaiyo disappearing with Atsumu to make out somewhere in the fields (it’s like they actively want to be caught by Shinsuke or something), she and her husband busy with some chores - so Osamu’s the best guide for you, since Granny and I’ll be cooking dinner, he’ll have nothing to do. She doesn’t take no for an answer, something she shares with Kaiyo in common, shooing you off in the direction of the truck, tossing the keys at Osamu’s head which he catches with well honed reflexes, grumbling under his breath. 

“Don’t fall off the mountain!” she calls cheerfully. “But if you do - Osamu, you better carry her back home!” 

Osamu just mutters something about how she’s in cahoots with Kaiyo, but gallantly opens the truck door, helping you in. “You wanna see the castle then?”, he asks, revving the engine, reversing out onto the road for the second time today. 

“I don’t need to”, you reply. “I don’t know what’s around here. I mean - we can do anything you want, I really don’t mind.” 

“It’s not about what I want”, he says, patient as ever. “I grew up around here, been dragged up the castle more times than I care to count. It’s kinda nice ‘specially around sunset. We can go there if you want.” 

You imagine Osamu as a young boy, one half of a ragtag duo with Atsumu, dirt smudged on his cheeks, scuffed up knees, more considerate than his loud mouthed brother, the reasonable, responsible Miya twin. 

“Would you bring me around to your favourite places around here?” you ask meekly. 

His forehead puckers in confusion. “My favourite places?” he echoes. “I grew up in Tooyoka, it’s about forty minutes drive away. You sure you wanna visit it? It’s just another sleepy town y’know? Great onsens around the area, but it’s pretty quiet.” 

“I’m just curious” you say without offering any further explanation, expecting him to laugh at your odd request but he glances at you, wordlessly confirming that you’re serious before turning the truck northwards, slicing through the mountains, following the road towards the sea. 

As he drives, he offers you snippets of stories, how impressed he was that Kita Shinsuke used to cycle an hour through the mountains just to get to high school and was not only punctual, but always the first one to arrive for morning practice, almost always before dawn, and how Atsumu, in contrast, could never wake up for anything except for volleyball practice, leaving you in stitches as Osamu mimics his brother yelling at him for letting him oversleep as passes the bus stop where the twins used to wait for the bus to school. 

“Don’t you want to stop to say hi to your parents?” 

“Nah, you asked for my favourite places, right? C’mon, don’t look at me like that”, he chortles, carefully parking the truck before leading you down a row of shophouses, stopping in front of a soba noodle shop. The proprietress bursts into a wrinkled smile when she recognises him through thick glasses and marvels over how handsome he’s grown. 

 (you find yourself agreeing with her) 

“I should’ve known your favourite places would revolve around food.”

“You make me sound like a terrible son. C’mon, food first - I’ll visit them later in the week before ‘Tsumu leaves for practice. We had an early lunch, now it’s time for tea”, Osamu argues, ordering two steaming bowls of soba noodles, topped with freshly grated ginger, crisp spring onions and perfectly golden tempura bits. 

“Plus, it’s life changing. It’ll teach you the meaning of happiness.”

“Life changing, huh?” you tease, but your eyes widen dramatically as you take your first slurp of noodles. Handmade buckwheat noodles, grown in fresh soil and water, piping hot soup laden with savoury comfort. It feels like a warm hug from a doting grandma or the feel of a sweater fresh out of the dryer, and if you have to eat your words for doubting him in the first place - well, Osamu just grins and orders another bowl for sharing and doesn’t rub it in. 

He pronounces the ice cream he drags you to life-changing as well, narrating how he’d stop by without fail after elementary school, leaning his bicycle against the preposterously ugly cow statue they have in front, ordering two scoops of ice cream at least- cycling through all the freshly made flavours. In homage to the season, he orders kuri, jewelled chestnuts in the pale yellow scoop, along with a blend of satsumaimo, the vibrant purple of the sweet potato twirling around swirls of creamy vanilla. In between licks of the ice cream which he so generously let you hold, he tells you about how he’d wander up and down the food street, trying their wares, figuring out what he liked about each and everyone of their offerings, experimenting in his parents’ kitchen on the weekends even though his grandma disapproved. 

“We all hate that all witch”, he says matter of factly, as he leads you down the street. “So it’s karma that I’m doing the exact thing she used to scold my ma for.” He switches to a nasal whine - “How could you let your son be in the kitchen, it’s a woman’s job - “, then he deadpans - “well, my ma and I would make onigiris together anyway to bring over to my grandma - I used to wonder what the odds are of her chokin’ on one, but you know what they say, evil just doesn’t seem to die - ”

“Miya Osamu!” you say severely. 

He just snorts. “She’s alive and kickin’, so don’t get all huffy on me right now.” 

You reach the edge of a park. “So you sell onigiris just to spite your grandma”, you muse as you sit on a swing. 

He takes a seat next to you, kicking up sand as he builds momentum. 

“Nah, it’s cos’ they appeal to a wide segment of society and I’m raking in money from low margins”, he deadpans as you roll your eyes at the nonsense he’s sprouting from his mouth. “Hey! I gotta use the business school jargon I learnt so I don’t waste the term I spent there before droppin’ out.” 

“Sure”, you say. “Not ‘cos you have a soft heart and want to make as many people as happy as possible, with life-changing onigiris -”

“My life mission has been found out”, he replies, drolly twisting his mouth, before you both collapse in mirth, the clear afternoon air ringing with your shared laughter. Your belly aches so much from the combination of too much food and laughter that you’re almost too distracted to hear his next words, whistling in the wind. 

“At least - I hope they make people happy”, he says, staring far away as if he’s able to peer through time and space back into each of his little restaurants if he peers past the horizon. “My onigiris, that is”, he adds, as if there’s any need to clarify what he means. “I think they do. That’s all I set out to do in this life.”

You think of his restaurants, filled to the brim with hungry patrons leaving content at the end of a hearty meal. His onigiris, stuffed with handmade fillings, lovingly made with fresh ingredients, each a palmful of rice squeezed loosely thrice, roughly the size of a heart. Simple yet deeply satisfying, the sort of food one eats regularly both for sustenance and comfort. 

“They do”, you announce to your audience of one who just looks at you, bemused. 

“I’m glad you think so.”

“Well - I mean - ”, you fumble, because you should qualify your statement, stealing a few beats to formulate a response by tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Suddenly, you’re shy because perhaps you’ve spoken out of turn, you’ve never professed to be the best at reading people so you’re not exactly best placed to make hasty generalisations about his customers. “Your onigiris”, you parrot his own words back at him, as if there were any doubt what you were referring to.  

“They make me happy. They do.”

Then you glance up almost furtively at him, worried that you’ve overstepped. You’re - yes he’s said you’re his friend - but there’s almost something too personal about declaring that the fruit of the craft he’s devoted his entire life to is a source of joy to you. Perhaps it comes off as a little creepy, perhaps he’s going to think you’re rude. 

But he looks at you, gaze steady. “I’m glad”, he says simply. 

The coil of anxiety tightening in your chest loosens. You hesitate but his open expression doesn’t falter, so you allow your mouth to fall open into a smile.  

There’s a gradual build up of children in the park, some even waiting around you - swings are hot property and school just let out for these kids, he explains, as you take his hand, letting him help you out of your seat. He guides you along a well worn path - ‘Tsumu and I used to play tag there, he points to a muddy field as you shudder in sympathy for the state of his parents’ floor, we nearly drowned catching frogs here, he points to a clear stream, water burbling a merry song. 

Tori gates flare scarlet in the distance, framing steps cut into the hill. “C’mon”, he urges when your pace slackens. “We won’t make it to the peak in Takeda, but I think this is a pretty decent substitute. Just in time for sunset too.”

You obediently follow him up the steps even though your thighs burn, unused to the exertion. When you reach the peak, he grabs hold to the back of your top, the fabric tethering you to him. 

“I’m under orders not to let you fall off the edge”, he says in response to your questioning glance, clearing a space for you to sprawl out on the grass. 

You don’t point out that there are barriers ring-fencing you from toppling over. Besides, the peak of this little hill is hardly anything to speak off, barely overlooking the sleepy town stretching into the sea. Instead, you listen to his recounting of how Ichika and Shinsuke’s ill-fated hike up the mountain the ruins of Takeda castle, gasping when Ichika tumbles off the peak (she was too distracted lookin’ at Shinsuke to watch her footing), cooing when Kita Shinsuke carries her on his back to find their way back towards the farm (she sprained her ankle, but I think she still enjoyed that hike). 

“What a nice romance”, you sigh.

“I guess”, Osamu says with a nonchalant shrug.  

He scoffs when you ask him teasingly if he ever brought a sweetheart or two up here in his youth. “They all flocked to ‘Tsumu, not me”, he says, without a hint of resentment. “Not that I had too much interest, t’was too wrapped up in volleyball in high school. And I guess it didn’t make sense for me to date then, my pocket money’s better spent on food for myself.”

“And now?” you ask. For some reason, your heart crawls its way up your throat, leaving a burning sensation behind. 

“Now? I’m busy. Can’t be bothered”, he replies shortly. 

Again, you wonder if you’ve overstepped, if you’ve crossed the boundaries that friendships have in place (you’ve had so few of them, you wouldn’t know what’s right from wrong) but he just cracks a wry smile. “Stop starin’ at me, you’re here to watch the sunset.” 

Obediently, you follow his lead, tilting your face up to watch clouds gust across clear skies. You bear witness to the extinguishing of the sun’s rays, its gradual dip towards the horizon. The sky starts to darken until fiery orange and gold streaks from the sun’s farewell are all that remains of the day.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” Osamu asks as you make your way down the hill, back through the town where the truck is parked. 

For a split second you close your eyes. You imagine another life where you grew up here in this small town between the sky and the sea. You imagine another life where you were allowed to learn how to kick your legs on the playground swings so you can arc through the air. You imagine being childhood best friends with him, accompanying him as he shyly tells each store owner that their food is oishi! when it deserves praise, following him through tori gates up to the top of the hill where you’d get him to yourself since everyone else would flock to Atsumu. You imagine another life where, on a perfect autumn day like today, you tell him that you like him. You imagine stealing a kiss from him as the sun sets. 

You choke. 

Your heart thunders against your chest, so hard that you have to press your hand against your ribs to keep steady. Blood rushes through frozen ventricles, a sudden inferno blasting your insides, gasoline churning in your gut. Your brain must have turned into ash, you’ve clearly lost all sense of logic to have such thoughts stray into your mind. You’re a walking cliche, forming a crush on the first guy who’s nice enough to befriend you. You should retreat back in your hole, bury yourself deep enough until the earth caves in and no one is around to witness your shame. 

“You ok?” Osamu asks, frowning when he doesn’t get a response from you. 

You have to avert your eyes. In the shadows of dusk, the sun leaves its mark, gold flecks in his dark eyes. You need to take a step back, regroup and figure out what’s your next step. 

“Yeah”, you manage to say, your mouth bone-dry. “I’m fine. I - I enjoyed myself today. Thank you.” 

His lips curve into a smile. “I’m glad”, he replies. 

Sparks fly. Fire burns in the night sky. 

note: a little early, and i hope you enjoy this chapter too! drop me an ask and let me know what you think!

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter Seven: Trying for Normal (Gifts)

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AO3

“You can not honestly tell me you are thinking of announcing that girl as your daughter.” Damian says, his scowl deeper than Dick had seen it in a while.

“‘That girl’ has a name, Little D. Plus she’s your sister.” Dick says, resisting the urge to nudge him. They had gotten to the point where a small nudge wasn’t a death sentence, but Damian was on edge. And a small nudge would probably not be appreciated.

“I do not care what her name is, Grayson. Since coming to Gotham she has been involved in two separate Rogue attacks. She is suspicious at best, and a nuisance at worst.” He replies, crossing his arms.

“Enough, Damian. Marinette is not a nuisance. She simply has bad luck.” Bruce says, obviously trying to defend his daughter.

“And poor self-preservation skills. Talking back to the Joker? Snarking the Riddler? For an individual with no combat training, she gets much too involved in attacks. It is idiotic.” Damian argues, shaking his head.

“It might have something to do with the Paris situation. She said she’s been at attacks before, so she must have some experience with villains. And from what I read on the Ladyblog, none of the damage in Paris lasts. She just may not realize how dangerous it is for her to do here what she would do in Paris. We just need to warn her, or, at least remind her, that Gotham is a dangerous place.” Dick says, thinking back to her reaction to the Riddler and the Joker. She was definitely more tense with the Joker, despite the fact that both villains had arrived with armed goons. Maybe she thought the Riddler was less likely to kill someone, not true. Or maybe she- Dick frowns as he remembers a key difference between the attacks.

“I just realized something.” He says with a frown.

“Care to share with the rest of the room, Dickiebird?” Jason asks, strolling in and flopping onto a chair.

“She was more tense at the attack with the Joker, she seemed to understand that it was a dangerous situation. Sure, she talked back to him, but she didn’t try to fight back or anything. But at the attack with the Riddler, he wasn’t even targeting her at first. He was targeting the boy she’d been talking to. And she was more reckless, and then she fought back. She fought well, but it was still super dangerous.” Dick rambles, pacing as he explains the predicament.

“Is there a point to this? I feel like I walked in at the wrong time.” Jason calls out from his chair, feet propped up on the table in front of him.

“My point, Jay, is that Marinette has a crush.” Dick says, shuddering at the word like it’s something disgusting. (It is, his sister is too young for crushes and boyfriends).

“Is that why she ran off with him right after the attack?” Jason asks with a smirk. Dick feels his eyes practically shoot out of his head.

“She what!?” He yells, running over to the Batcomputer to look at the security footage from the wax museum. Spots that were targeted frequently, like the wax museum, had their security footage directly linked to the Batcave. Just in case of an emergency or in case an attack happened and they needed an extra set of eyes.

“I’m sure she didn’t do anything that you wouldn’t do.” Jason teases, and Dick pales.

“Shut up, Jason!” He moans, his typing turning frantic as he scrolls through the day’s footage. He stops when he gets to the moments after the battle. When the phones of the French students had all gone off. Frowning, he watches as his sister runs up to the boy and grabs his hand, leaning in and whispering to each other before the two run out of the room. Towards the bathrooms. Oh hell no. Dick scrolls forwards, frowning when they don’t come out in five minutes. Or ten minutes. Huffing, he switches to the cameras aimed at the exits. Surely one of the cameras had to catch the pair leaving the museum. He rewinds it and watches, but...there’s nothing. They don’t leave the bathrooms and they don’t leave the museum. For the rest of the day.

“Has anyone been in contact with her since the attack?” Bruce asks from right beside him, making him jump out of his seat with a yelp.

“I don’t even have her number.” Dick says, resisting the urge to glare at his adoptive father. He might’ve had Marinette’s number had Bruce actually acted like he wanted her to be there for dinner the other day. Instead, he practically ignored her and she left. And now she was missing. Definitely missing, because she never came out of the bathroom at the museum.

“Hello, Marinette? Yes, I apologize for calling so suddenly. I was- yes. Yes, I did hear about the attack….yes, that was part of the reason I was calling. I was wondering if you would like to come to dinner at the manor. You could bring your friend, Adrien Agreste, I believe was his name. Of course. Yes. Oh no, I’ll send a car. No, no I assure you it- Marinette please. Taxis aren’t always safe after dark. Thank you. Yes, I- we’ll see you then. Goodbye.” Bruce hangs up, and Dick looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Just gonna suddenly invite her and her boy toy to dinner, B? What’re you gonna do, interrogate them?” He asks frowning.

“That’s the second time that Marinette has ran off after that alarm. I’ve seen videos of the situation in Paris and I’m concerned. Now go upstairs and act normal. I want all of you on your best behaviors at dinner. Damian, better than best please. No weapons.” Bruce directs before leaving the room, presumably to ask Alfred to pick up Marinette. Dick sighs and looks at his brothers.

“Well this isn’t going to be a disaster or anything.” He says. --- “Tikki this is going to be a disaster!” Marinette whines, throwing herself face first onto the bed. She tries to ignore Tikki’s amused giggle. This was not funny. This was dinner with her family that she hadn’t made a great impression on the first time. And Adrien was invited, and she wasn’t sure where the two stood but she was sure that if Dick was at dinner, he would just push Adrien farther away from her.

“I could practically hear your suffering from Adrien’s room, pigtails.” Plagg says, making Marinette sit up and glare at the Kwami.

“Are you just here to mock me?” She asks, pouting. He snorts.

“No, I’m here to tell you the kid’s on his way over here. I told him you were panicking and he practically ran out his door.” Plagg says with a chuckle. Rapid knocking on the door makes him laugh more before dropping onto the bed next to Tikki. Marinette sighs, rolling off the bed and pulling the door open, jumping forward in time to catch Adrien before he completely falls to the ground.

“Are you okay? Plagg said you were panicking, did something happen?” He asks quickly, looking her up and down. Marinette blinks, slightly taken aback by his sudden concern. It was nice, but still a lot all at once. Shaking her head, she gestures for him to come in and shuts the door behind him. Walking back over to the bed, she once again face plants and groans.

“She’s nervous because Mr. Wayne invited the two of you to dinner.” Tikki chirps, giggling when Marinette lifts her head up enough to glare at her.

“Traitor.” She says, dropping her head back down.

“If you don’t want me to go with Marinette, I won’t.” Adrien says. Marinette immediately jumps up, shaking her head rapidly.

“No, no that’s not what I meant. I just- I’m nervous about actually sitting through a dinner with them. And I’m pretty sure Dick will try and sit between us and glare at you like he did at the museum.” She admits, cursing the way her cheeks heat up. Adrien raises an eyebrow.

“He was glaring at me?” He asks, utter confusion on his face. Marinette groans, dropping her head into her hands.

“Sometimes your obliviousness is cute-”

“You think I’m cute!”

“But right now, it’s kinda making me want to scream into my pillow.” Marinette admits, giving him her signature “not amused” look. A look she usually saves for when Chat Noir is making a pun.

“Wait, why wouldn’t Dick like me?” Adrien asks, thankfully stuck on that now instead of the fact that she thinks he’s cute.

“Um, maybe because we were holding hands? Did you really not notice how he kept standing in between us the entire time we were at the museum?” Marinette asks, suddenly unsure if she’d imagined the whole thing.

“Oh no, I did. I just didn’t think it meant he didn’t like me. I’ve never really dealt with siblings before. I mean, I’ve met Nino’s little brother but...that’s about it.” Adrien says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Marinette sighs, grinning softly.

“I don’t really have a lot of experience either, so maybe I was just imagining things.” She admits. Adrien’s shoulders instantly relax and she smiles. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“So, did you want me to come with?” He asks after a moment of silence. Marinette nods, agreeing immediately.

“Please. I don’t think I can go back there alone, not yet anyway.”

“Of course, Mari. Now, what’re you wearing?” --- The ride to Wayne Manor wasn’t as quiet as her first, with Adrien making quiet jokes and saying things to try and help keep Marinette out of her head. She was thankful that he had come with, because she was definitely going to need the emotional support to get through dinner. The car stops and Marinette sucks in a deep breath. Smoothing out her skirt nervously, Marinette glances at the small, neatly wrapped package sitting between her and Adrien. It was something she had started back when she first found out she was adopted. And that her parents didn’t know her bio dad. A scrapbook with copies of everything important from her life: baby pictures, school pictures, birth announcement, report cards, clippings from newspapers where she had won or placed in contests, pictures of her early designs and recent designs, pictures of certificates and trophies from various competitions and activities. Basically a road map of her life to be given to her bio dad so that he could get to know her. She’d written her name on the front page, with the words “daughter of Bruce Wayne and Bridgette Le” underneath. A sort of amendment to her birth announcement which listed her as the daughter of Tom and Sabine Dupain Cheng. And while she definitely was their daughter, she also wanted Mr. Wayne to know that she wanted to be his daughter too. Not just by blood, which isn’t the important part. No, she wanted to get to know him and for him to get to know her. Pushing down the intruding thoughts insisting that it was too soon and that he didn’t want her in the first place, she opens the car door and steps out, clutching the package to her chest like a safety blanket.

“Would you like me to take that for you, Miss Marinette?” Alfred asks, glancing at the package.

“Oh, no thank you Alfred. It’s for my da- er, um, Mr. Wayne. I can hang onto it.” She says with a bright smile. She could do this. Sure, it didn’t go great the last time she was here. And she was pretty sure Mr. Wayne’s youngest son could kill her and wanted to kill her. But it was fine. Everything is fine. Walking through the front door, her shoulders relax slightly when she sees Dick is the only one standing there waiting for them.

“Marinette! He cheers, rushing forward and picking her up in a hug. As in, legitimately picking her up. Okay then.

“Good to see you too.” She says, trying not to show that he’s literally suffocating her with the hug.

“Good to see you again, Dick!” Adrien says cheerfully. Marinette feels Dick tense before setting her down, his smile less bright as he looks at Adrien.

“And you. Adrien, right?” He asks, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

“Yup!” Adrien says cheerfully. Marinette watches cautiously, noticing that Dick seems to be squeezing a little too hard….and then Adrien appears to match his strength, if the look on Dick’s face is anything to go by. Marinette coughs to hide a snort, her face heating up as both boys turn to look at her.

“Uh, is it just you and Mr. Wayne tonight?” Marinette asks, choosing to ignore their awkward handshake.

“Nope! It’s me and Bruce and Alfred, of course, and Jay and Tim and Damian and Cass. Steph’s not in town and Babs is having dinner with her dad.” Dick says, and Marinette’s eyes widen. There were a lot more people in her bio dad’s family than she thought. She knew about the boys, but she hadn’t seen anything about Cass, Steph or ‘Babs’.

“I didn’t realize I had sisters too.” She says instead of voicing her insecurities. Before she only had the boys to measure up against, now she had three girls too?

“Well, the only official sister is Cass. Steph used to date Tim and she just kinda stuck around. She’s practically family at this point. And Babs and I used to date, but again, she stuck around after and now she’s practically family.” Dick explains with a grin and a shrug. Cause having your exes around isn’t awkward. Or, maybe it isn’t. She doesn’t have any exes to compare it to. Just as she starts to get lost in her thoughts, she feels Adrien brush against her gently. Reminding her that he’s there, for her, giving her the strength she needs to follow Dick into the living room. Where everyone else was sitting. Oh boy.

“Marinette, so glad you could join us. And Mr. Agreste, nice to see you again.” Bruce says, standing from his spot and moving to shake Adrien’s hand.

“You as well, M. Wayne. And please, call me Adrien. Mr. Agreste is my father.” He says, and Marinette can just barely see his wince. His father always had been his least favorite subject, no matter how much or how little they spoke of him.

“Thanks for inviting us.” Marinette says, moving the package so that she’s no longer clutching it like a lifeline. Holding it out to Mr. Wayne, she laughs at his confused face. “It’s a present.” She adds.

“Oh, well, thank you.” He says, his face unreadable. Marinette shifts her weight, glancing between him and the package, waiting for him to open it. Or properly introduce her to the rest of the family. Either option would work at this point. Glancing at Dick, she sighs in relief when he claps. At least someone was going to make the first move.

“Right, so I don’t think you got the chance to meet Jason and Damian properly when you were here the other day.” Dick says, tugging her around a still frozen Bruce in front of the two boys from the other day.

“No, I didn’t. Hi, I’m Marinette.” She says, smiling and holding out a hand to Damian first. He tuts and turns away, making Marinette’s smile fall slightly before she turns to Jason. Jason grins and shakes her hand.

“Welcome to the family, kid.” He says, before whistling. “You didn’t get B’s height, that’s for sure.” He teases, Marinette snorts, her smile turning into a teasing smirk.

“Hey, don’t count me out for my height. Ever heard the phrase, small but mighty?” She asks, crossing her arms. Jason snorts, reaching out and messing up her hair.

“Whatever you say, Pixie Pop.” He replies. She rolls her eyes and turns to the other two siblings she hadn’t met.

“Hi, you must be Tim and Cass.” She says, smiling at both of them. Tim nods, his hand twitching towards his pocket. Marinette tries not to laugh, having seen Max do the same thing when he had to socialize for any amount of time. The boy was always far more comfortable with his phone in his hand, even if he wasn’t actually looking at it. Cass smiles, and Marinette notices her hands moving. “Sorry, could you repeat that, I wasn’t watching closely.” She says. Cass’ smile widens and she nods before starting over.

“Welcome to family. Nice to meet you.” Cass signs, making Marinette beam.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” She says, eyes widening when she realizes she left Adrien alone with a frozen Mr. Wayne. Whirling around, she moved back to Adrien and tugged him forward, rolling her eyes at his surprised yelp. Honestly, he should expect this by now.

“Geeze, Princess. Give a man a warning.” He says, adjusting his shirt that she’d accidentally messed up.

“Sorry k- Adrien. Sorry. Anyway, uh, everyone this is my friend Adrien Agreste. Adrien this is Jason, Damian, Tim, Cass and you already know Dick.” Marinette introduces, gesturing to each of her new siblings. Adrien shoots a wide smile, not quite his model smile but also not quite a real one.

“Nice to meet you all.” He says.

“Marinette, I apologize. Did you want me to open this now?” Mr. Wayne asks suddenly. She turns and raises an eyebrow at his unreadable expression and the way he holds onto the present like he doesn’t know what to expect. Which is fair, considering they’d only met in person the day before.

“Oh, um, if you want to. It’s nothing big.” She says, watching nervously as he nods and unwraps it. His eyebrows twitch together as he looks at the book, obviously not yet understanding.

“Open it, B.” Dick whispers, clearly understanding the gift more than their father. Mr. Wayne nods and opens it, his unreadable expression falling into one that she...still can’t read. But it’s not emotionless anymore. As he flips through the book, a small smile creeps its way onto his face and Marinette almost cheers. That’s the most sincere look she’d ever seen on the man.

“Did you put all this together?” He asks, glancing up from the book to look at her. Marinette nods.

“When I found out I was adopted, I wanted to have something to give my bio dad. So that even if he didn’t want to see me in person, he could get to know me. When I found out you’re my, um, dad, I added some personal touches.” She says.

“And I can keep this?” He asks, and Marinette’s shocked that he sounds almost scared. As if he thinks she’ll say no and take everything back. She smiles.

“Of course. My Maman and Papa already have those pictures. These are all yours.” She says.

“Thank you, Marinette. I- This is an amazing gift.” He says. Marinette’s smile widens and her shoulders sag in relief. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a disaster after all.

Next

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[lovemeian]

pragma, iii.

. . .love that is driven by the head, not the heart.

prev. | part 03: lovesick fool

wc: 1,803 | oikawa tōru x f!reader

—angst ; tw: marriage, mentions of divorce, massive insecurities & the backlash of it + sorta hurt/comfort? sorta + oof, this is going to be a lot, darlings, buckle tf up + wrote this on google docs this time, so it got very lengthy hehe !

+ don’t give up on me: andy grammer / hold me while you wait: lewis capaldi

+ wanna be part of the taglist for the last part? join here.

love: masterlist ; tip jar ; re-blogs are much appreciated !

Oh, Tooru tries.

In the next few weeks since his arrival, he went above and beyond. But that has always been him, wasn’t it? When he was determined, he was ready to pay anything, anyone.

For a chance. A respite. Anything.

He visits Yoshiko’s place all the way on the other side of Tokyo, commenting how inconvenient it must be for you since you and him had chosen the house you bought together because of its proximity to your workplace. He brings flowers— your favourite — in different bundles and bouquets, more often than not, with gifts. Baked goods, new jewellery that you had to scold him about, and sometimes leading up to asking you out on ‘dates’. You always say it’s not a good idea, he says it’s just for a while, and please?

But he’s Oikawa, so it doesn’t just end there. He woos even Yoshiko and her neighbours. Yoshiko knew the truth, and is wary and uncomfortable around him, but even she couldn’t help pulling you to the side whilst your husband talked to the grumpy old man next door so casually and nicely— the same old man who had complained two ladies in one apartment is too loud even though neither you nor your friend were louder than normal decimals — that he was going to come out of that conversation bundled with a box of mandarins he was more than happy to share with you, peeling one after another for you.

“You have to talk to him,” Yoshiko urged, voice low and eyes darting.

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” You flinched, you couldn’t help it. Her eyes softened as she clasped your shoulder. “You’re too passive about this and you are both ignoring the fact that you’re trying to divorce him. He’s pretending as if you’re having the longest sleepover in existence. Everyone just thinks you had a little fight and needs to be wooed.”

You knew this could happen. You dreaded for this to happen. Because in reality, you had always been a lovesick fool for him. It was your silent badge, your marred honour pushed onto skin. Ever since high school, Oikawa Tooru was a star that gleamed and burned bright. You always thought you were just like the rest; in his vicinity, a shooting star waiting to pass just even a sliver closer to him. Wanting to see how bright he truly burned, only to find out more than you bargained for. Things that. . . that made you fall deeper for him. The star became human in your eyes, moulded away from perception but the boy, then the man underneath. But he didn’t burn ever dimmer. No, to you he was a constant flame, a supernova incarnate.

And you, with your tiny ember, had always been happy to orbit him. If it meant being allowed to be this close.

Oikawa’s number one fan.

As Yoshiko left to give you two some privacy, your husband sat on the other end of the kotatsu, peeling oranges as he continued prattling on about a funny thing that happened to one of his mornings in Argentina, composed of snickering teammates, alarm clocks that didn’t go off, and thank god for spare gym clothes!

“This has to stop, Tooru,” you interrupted his soliloquy, voice finding a strong, steady pitch. You weren’t looking at him, hard to look at him, but you could feel his gaze, his voice slowed down and stopped.

He finished the last peel, brushing the skins together on the table so he could throw them easily. “I can’t,” he said just as steady, as if your conversation is nothing more than choosing a menu for dinner. “I can’t let you go.”

You met his eyes, chest constricted, eyes brimming. “You have to. What happens when you leave for Argentina? When you’re not here again?”

His eyes became desperate so quickly, voice strangled to maintain a calm demeanour but his body has inched forward, hands clenching and unclenching. His wedding ring remained, unforgiving and lovingly placed. “We’ll try. I-I’ll talk to you everyday, more than just once. I’ll— We’ll have to try.”

“Will you give up volleyball for me?” you asked, barely above whisper.

It struck him as if you'd just slapped him. “I— Y/n.”

You laughed darkly, looking away. “I would never ask that of you, Tooru. I would hate myself if you don’t start to. The same way you never asked me to move with you there. You belong in Argentina and I belong here. We can’t keep— We can’t ignore that we’re divorcing. It’s happening.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching as he stood up. Adrenaline strummed in his veins, pushing him to do something, act on anything. Move mountains, fight monsters just to get to you.

“I haven’t signed it yet.”

You stood up too, glaring. “Only because you’re trying too hard.”

“We’re supposed to try harder!” He exploded, gasping as tears pooled in his own eyes. His chest started constricting again, the sensation foreign and familiar and it hurt. As if someone was trying to squeeze out his love, his adoration. 

Every night since he came back, living in a space that had too many memories of the two of you, that felt so fucking cold without you— it hurt. Everything hurt. It was too hard to sleep, to be in a space cloaked and choking with memories, wishing nothing more that it was morning again so he could visit you. See you, smell you. Everything about you was familiarity he couldn’t let go.

It was home he wanted to go back to.

He breathed, clenching his fist. He looked at you, eyes burning. “Marriage means working hard for it. You shouldn’t have given up on me before I had the chance to realise something was wrong. You didn’t even give me the chance to fight for us. You’re choosing to give us up before I even know what’s happening. This is me trying. This is me fighting for us.” He drew a ragged breath, flipping his eyes to the ceiling as he tried to compose himself again. “You’re being too selfish.”

You clutched your shirt, trying to claw to your chest. “I’m sorry,” you gasped out, wanting to maintain a steady rhythm, wanting to be hard. Because this is your fault, isn’t it? You didn’t deserve to feel like you’re suffocating. “But I’ve lived without you for so long. I’ve emptied myself off missing you, yearning for you. I’ve grown numb, Tooru. While we go through the motions, I’ve started seeing myself as nothing more than the wife you visit every year. You call once a day, say ‘I love you’ before we part because we say it that way, everyday, of every goodbye. It’s just another three words to say. And it’s not your fault, it’s mine, and I’m sorry. I can’t— I can’t get this feeling out of my chest. When I, fuck, when I started thinking why, why could I feel so empty about this? Why can’t I just fight for you too? I love you, that's true, that’s never been a lie— all of it just came out. And it has been so, so ugly to see the reality.”

Your tear stained face met his. Even crying, your husband was pretty. Like a soaked angel after it fell on earth. His sins haven’t caught up to him just yet— they crawled like oil spill towards his frayed edges. For now he was still purely angelic, white light bursting at every tear that came out of him. Angelic and hurt.

“That I didn’t love you enough,” you said weakly, the insecurity had made itself known. Whole. It has always been inside you, raw and alive, trying to eat at the emotions and adoration you had tried so hard to hold onto. But it’s strong; and now more than ever, it beats inside you as one. “That my love for you was never going to be enough. They were all right, Tooru. I was never going to be good enough for you.”

“Who—?” Tooru could not stumble toward you fast enough, hands trembling as he reached for your arms, elbows. It has been so long since he’s touched you— everything else after that time at the house, Yoshiko’s sentiments were found true. Both of you were dancing at the edge, too scared to peek through the darkness.

But now he has peered through the darkness. Now he can see that you’ve been plummeting by yourself all along. For so long. 

“Who’s said these to you? Why didn’t you tell me?” He captured your face as if he was cradling your pain, both of your pain.

“People from before, from back then. You had always cared for me so much, adored me so much, I thought I’d silence everything else.” You clutched his shirt, his jacket. Anything to anchor yourself. Anchor yourself to him. It was foolish and reckless, but here you were, ready to be selfish again. Because you love him so much. So much, it hurt. “But then everything wasn’t as bright as before. We had become subdued, complacent. And I could try harder, I could do anything. But what if you— what if you stopped completely? Where would I go? What would happen to me?”

There was so much heartbreak in his eyes it hurt you to see. “Y/n—”

“Listen to me, please.” You reached for his face, brushing the tears, running your fingers along the contort. “I realised I was going to break without you. So I had to steel myself, become stronger to stand up on my own. And in finding myself again, in finding my own footing, we started losing each other. If you had left me, we would be fine. Not happy, but fine. Everything else on paper was perfect— we could divorce then and we would be okay, but something inside me would die. I had given you too much emotional ammo, so much of my love, that when you started pulling away as I did, when I tried to find my footing, I realised you could kill me in a heartbeat.”

You smiled at him then, bitter and raw, pulled apart like a fresh scar from an open wound. It’s horrifying, disfigured. A monster of heartbreak and want. Insecurity and relief.

It was you, build up through the years, unmasked before the very man you fought never to find out.

“We would be fine without our presence in each other’s lives,” you whispered. “And we deserve better than half constants and unsung selfish wants. You have to divorce me. Because if I fall for all of this again, and I love you with everything I have again, if you start to pull away again, it wold kill me. You could kill me, Tooru.”

next: part 04, final | tell me: do you prefer a sad or a happy ending to this one?

made by lavi <3

taglist: @sakusasimpbot​, @wuyaiscrow​, @encrytpta​, @jadasz​, @asaitashi​, @pluviophilefangirl​, @jinsrever​,

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 9k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: medical play, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, multiple orgasms, fingering, dirty talk, bondage, ruined orgasm, unprotected sex, squirting, oral (m receiving), cum eating (not yoongi for once), this was meant to be a light palate cleanser after the intensity of day ten but i got lost in my feelings in the first half and then got horny over doctor jeon in the second half i apologise

banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | thank you my darling SFHS babies ! i love you

DAY ELEVEN

“I think you should be a little more concerned, PD.”

Sejin flattens the two men - oldest and youngest of the house - an unimpressed look. Jungkook tries not to wilt under his gaze. “And why is that?”

Jin clears his throat, staring right back unabashedly. “Tae’s been involved in a terrible accident and you’re just waiting here. You should be rushing over to the house to save him.”

“A terrible accident?” Sejin questions monotonously, before turning in his chair to angle his monitor so that both boys can see. On the screen is a freeze frame of a very familiar scene - Taehyung crouching on the bottom of the stairs, Jin and Jungkook huddled around him.

Ah, Jungkook realises with sinking disappointment, the cameras. Once the producer clicks play on the recording, Jungkook is faced with the HD version of himself gesture excitedly, patting Taehyung on the back and pointing to the banisters.

Cheeks flushing, the youngest member of the house watches in dread as Sejin plays back the evidence of Taehyung willingly forcing his head through two banisters, ears popping out the other side as he glances up with a beam at Jin.

Having seen enough, Sejin pauses the video, and switches back to the realtime feed. “An accident, was it?” Sejin repeats rhetorically as the Taehyung on the security camera drums his fingers lazily against the wood posts, letting out a lionlike yawn. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”

Jungkook bites down hard on his tongue. This wasn’t how things were meant to go at all. Behind Sejin’s desk, the majority of the production van is filled with all the mess of a regular office. Stacks of paper, scribbled sticky notes on various surfaces, a large whiteboard with roughly handwritten schedules and a small game of naughts and crosses in the bottom right corner. Jungkook tries not to let his eyes dwell on the whiteboard too long. Don’t raise anymore suspicion.

Beside him, Jin shamelessly shrugs with a smile. “He put his head through the bars on purpose, sure, but he got stuck on accident.” The oldest - though still younger than Sejin himself - emphasises this distinction with a single outstretched finger and an arch of his eyebrows. “So you should go help him.”

Sejin slips his glasses off and lets them clatter to the table, pinching his brow with two fingers. “Am I gonna get there and have Taehyung ask me for the latest issue of Chinese Vogue?”

Jin stiffens, his mask temporarily shattered. “I requested that in confidence.”

The production manager throws his hands in the air in defeat. “How was I supposed to know which of your bogus requests was confidential? Just half an hour ago I got a call from my superior asking why #getjinanXL was trending. You tweeted that you wanted me to buy you extra large condoms because you ‘ran out.’”

“Well, that was obviously a joke,” Jin rebuffs easily. “You know I use Magnum.”

“How would I-?” With a huff of desperation, Sejin shakes his head to clear his mind. “No, okay, back to…”

Zoning out, Jungkook’s eyes are caught by the sight on the screen as another figure walks out into the foyer. Yoongi rushes forward once he sees Taehyung, crouching on the other side of the bars as he delicately prods around Taehyung’s face and neck. The younger man waves him away in frustration, pushing at Yoongi’s chest until he gives up and leaves reluctantly. Jungkook bites his lip and looks away.

Whoops. Staring right at him are the producer and the therapist, each as expectant as the other. “Huh?”

Sejin huffs. “Why would Taehyung intentionally stick his head through the bars of a staircase banister?”

“Tell him, Jungkookie,” Jin adds with a bump of his shoulder.

“Uh…” With a hard swallow, Jungkook’s mind whirls. “He… We were… measuring,” he finishes awkwardly. “Me-measuring Tae’s head.”

“You were measuring Taehyung’s head?” Sejin repeats flatly. “With the stair banister?”

Jungkook shrugs with what he hopes is a ‘what can you do?’ expression, laughing nervously. “We couldn’t find a ruler.”

Sejin blinks once. “Then how would you know how wide the gap between posts was? Without a ruler?”

“Oh.” Jungkook stares in barely subdued panic at Jin, who widens his eyes meaningfully, urging him to turn back to the awaiting producer. “We, um, we didn’t think that far. We’ll know for next time?”

“If you want to stay on this show, there will be no next time,” Sejin warns.

Jungkook ducks his head in shame. “Sorry, dad.”

“Y- what?” Jungkook hears Sejin cough lightly, flustered. “Please, Jungkook, that’s not appropriate.”

The youngest gives a little bow. “I apologise, Father.”

Sejin clicks his tongue. “Okay, that’s even worse.”

Jungkook glances up, brows knitting and head tilting in confusion. “...whoopsies, daddy?”

Sejin buries his face in his hands, fingers tugging at the hairline. Jungkook spots several grey strands.

Clearing his throat, Jin steps forward slightly. “Taehyung is still stuck, PD.”

“Okay, fine! Fine,” Sejin announces, pushing his chair away from the desk and standing up. “But if there is a single other incident like this, I’m calling in child protective services and getting them to baby-proof this place. No more funny business. Understood?”

“No more. Promise,” Jungkook assures sweetly, heart soaring as Sejin slips past them, hurrying out of the production van and towards the front door of the villa.

The moment he’s well out of earshot, Jin claps his hands once with a victorious grin. “It was a bit touch-and-go there,” he admits, “but that’s bought us time. Quick; get the whiteboard, I’ll grab some pens.”

Jungkook grins. Like secret agents, hyung and him were. Moving quickly, the two of them manage to sneak out the whiteboard from the van, trundling it noisily across the gravel, around the back of the house.

---

“I’ll be honest,” Jimin drawls, “I don’t understand why we couldn’t have just chatted about this. Is the whiteboard really necessary?”

Taehyung deflates immediately, one hand still rubbing at the red marks on his jaw and ears. “What do you mean? I suffered for this whiteboard, Minnie.”

It’s crowded; five people huddled inside the confessional booth. But apart from the bathrooms and the rec room, this was the only place without live security cameras - purely because the only camera needed was the one for the confessionals themselves - and Jin and Jungkook doubted they’d be able to smuggle a very noisy whiteboard into the rec room when Sejin was directly outside it lubing up Taehyung’s neck with aloe vera gel.

While Producer Shin had been lured away by Jin with the promise of a homecooked meal, the four youngest men in the house were bundled into the garden shed, staring at a whiteboard that had barely fit through the door.

Jimin, still unconvinced, shrugs. From his spot perched delicately on Namjoon’s lap he watches the two younger men take a picture of what’s written on the whiteboard, then rub it all out. The man of the hour, Namjoon had been given the right to sit on the only proper chair in the room, the one the producer would normally sit in. Beside it, the wooden stool sits unoccupied. Jimin told the others that he was sitting on Namjoon’s lap because the stool was too uncomfortable, but Jungkook thinks there’s something deeper in the way he relaxes onto Namjoon’s chest, the academic alert but not tense underneath him.

Or perhaps being on this show has made Jungkook more suspicious.

“The whiteboard was vital, hyung,” he defends adamantly, grabbing one of the pens Jin-hyung had handed him, yanking off the cap with a satisfying click. Immediately the alcoholic smell of ink tingles his nostrils, but he ignores it, turning to the others. “What if Namjoon-hyung was a visual learner?”

From behind Jimin’s back, Namjoon adjusts the bridge of his glasses. “I- actually I learn best through listening.” His hand drops, hovers over the space both him and Jimin share, then rests awkwardly on the armchair. “But I appreciate the thought.”

Namjoon-hyung is so cute. “It’s okay,” Jungkook assures, suppressing the endeared grin that tugs at his lips, “We can brainstorm out loud, and Tae and I will just take notes.”

With Taehyung in his Sunday best (well, a button-up shirt so baggy it looked like he hat batwing sleeves) and Jungkook having dug out his glasses to look extra smart, the two of them were prepared to make this as academic as possible for Namjoon. Even after getting laid for the first time, academics were his comfort zone, and the two youngest were happy to oblige.

“First things first; what was it you had to do? Honeymoon?”

Jimin leans back on Namjoon’s shoulder so the taller man can see past. Namjoon shakes his head lightly, his purple hair in serious need of a touch-up; the natural brunette frames his face now, emphasising his brow. Jungkook wonders if he’d let him dye it a new colour, just for something fresh.

“Just husband and wife,” the academic corrects, “It didn’t specify, uh, anything else.” His voice is still quiet, as if speaking on it is taboo. One day he’ll get used to discussing sex openly, but until then, the others will meet him halfway.

“Okay, so, Y/n is your wife,” Jungkook states with a nod, “do y’all have kids? Is it a newlyweds situation? We need  backstory here.”

The squeaking of a pen catches Jungkook’s attention before he even finishes speaking. To his right, Taehyung writes in sharp strokes across the board.

Y/N PREGNANT

“It’s the nineteen thirties,” Taehyung announces in a smooth voice, eyes finding each member in the room, “war is imminent, and worldwide men are preparing to be conscripted. Every moment spent with their loved ones is precious, and for General Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung pauses to draw a gangly stick figure giving a salute, “him and his wife Y/n-” this time a female stick figure joins the scene, a cartoonishly round stomach off to one side, “-have only one goal. To knock Y/n up before he goes to battle, so that even if he never returns they ha-”

“Wait, wait!” Jimin cocks his head to the side, brows furrowed. “Isn’t this too dark? Too elaborate? They’re fucking, not going for best screenplay at the Oscars.”

Taehyung deflates a second time, the hand holding the pen dropping limply to his side. “You don’t like it?”

Face stricken, Jimin waves his hands frantically. “No, no, I love it! Honestly! I just- I feel like Namjoon probably wants something a little simpler? Perhaps not so bleak?” The blue-haired man swivels around on Namjoon’s lap, his hand resting inconspicuously on the back of his neck, playing with the longer hairs there.

Namjoon swallows. “Uh, yeah, simple is probably good. Honestly, I feel a little unsure about all of this. What if I, I don’t know, drop character or get shy? Won’t it be awkward?”

Taehyung scratches at his chin as he thinks, the beginnings of beard scruff shadowing his jaw. “If we help you brainstorm, you can just memorise a basic script.”

“I guess so,” Namjoon muses, eyes fluttering unconsciously as Jimin continues to trace the nape of his neck with his fingertips. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I know you have your own scenes to worry about.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Two birds with one stone, we can help each other. You know; I suck your dick, you suck mine.”

“That isn’t the quote,” Namjoon protests automatically, “but- I get your point. Anyone have any advice on how I even go about this?”

Taehyung pouts. “You’re the smart one,” he points out, “I did try to help but clearly my services weren’t appreciated.”

“Oh, honey,” Jimin coos, “I always appreciate your services.” The double entendre is clear in the silk of his voice and the arch of his brows, sent with a sweet smile, and Taehyung flushes in response.

Jungkook winces, ignoring the spike of - of something green and ugly in his chest. “Okay, enough from the lovebirds, this is about Namjoon. Joonie-hyung, I would just offer to help out and join with yours but I was gonna do mine this afternoon, and I don’t think a husband would fit very well into it.”

“That’s okay,” Namjoon assures, shifting under the weight of the man in his lap. His fingers flex on the arm of the chair behind Jimin’s back, unsure. “Taehyung? Yours might work, I guess.”

Unaware of Namjoon’s indecision, Jimin suddenly stands up off his lap entirely, stalking over to Taehyung with a bemused grin. “You think our well-trained Taehyungie could be the family dog?”

Taehyung, though keening under Jimin’s sudden attention, seems hesitant. “I- I don’t know, Minnie, I haven’t really…” He trails off helplessly, casting Namjoon an apologetic stare.

“It’s okay,” Namjoon rushes out, scooting forward to the edge of the armchair. “You don’t have to, I could just do it by myself.”

It’s strange, watching Jimin so visibly caught in indecision. He hovers in the centre of the small shed, torso towards Taehyung but head twisted back to stare at Namjoon. Wanting to support Namjoon, but wanting to protect Taehyung.

Jungkook feels like an outsider invading in on a precious equilibrium. Namjoon shifts, gaze dropping. Taehyung can’t keep his fingers still as they fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. Jimin’s so still the thin silver threads of his earrings don’t even shift in the air, but his eyes flood with emotion, bottom lip twitching just slightly as he seeks for something to say.

Jimin isn’t as mean as he’d like people to think, Jungkook muses. Saving the uncomfortable decision, Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly, diverting the attention of the other three. “We could always practice? Jimin, you’re pretty. Pretend to be Y/n and give Joon-hyung some tips.”

The effect of his words are instantaneous. Jimin perks up, turning on his heel to grin down at his elder, who gasps almost imperceptibly. Taehyung’s eyes dull with something akin to disappointment. At himself or at the situation, Jungkook can’t say, but the sight of him turning to the whiteboard and swirling sullen circles of ink on the glossy surface has Jungkook’s heart breaking.

Leaving the other two to talk - Jimin resting gracefully on one of the arms of the chair, his feet dangling between Namjoon’s - Jungkook hurries forward, wrapping his fingers around Tae’s to catch his attention.

“What’s up?” he asks softly, low enough to give the two some privacy.

Sucking on the inside of his cheek, Taehyung shrugs. “Nothing.”

Jungkook isn’t deterred by the shortness of his tone, but changes tacts nonetheless. “It’s a bit weird,” he offers up, “it’s like each of us is the wingman to the other guys, but we’re all going for the same girl.”

With Jungkook’s hand still on top, Taehyung begins to swipe the pen across the board again. This time, what looks like a flower with long, pointed petals takes shape in thick black lines. Taehyung himself stays focused for a few moments of silence, until he’s ready to speak.

“But it’s not just that,” he explains in a low timbre, “it’s not just her.”

Jungkook lets his hand be maneuvered by the deft movements of the masseuse. Every part of Taehyung was so elegant, like he’d been sculpted from marble. From those slender fingers, to the slope of his nose. Lashes that brushed against his brow bone as he focused, teeth pressing just slightly into his lip, a dusky pink. “No, it’s not,” Jungkook agrees after a moment.

Taehyung lets his hand fall, Jungkook’s slipping off. With eyes hidden behind dark curls, the elder sneaks a look at Jimin and Namjoon, the two smiling and laughing, Jimin’s fingers playing with the strap of the watch on the other’s wrist lazily.

“I never know who to be jealous of,” Taehyung admits with a weak chuckle, capping the pen. “Anyways; that doesn’t matter. We’re here to help Namjoon.”

Jungkook spares a glance at the lovebirds on the armchair. “I think he’s doing just fine.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung answers shortly, eyes locked on the way Jimin curls onto Namjoon’s shoulder, the two locked onto Namjoon’s phone as he types in notes. “He’ll do fine.” Letting out a deep sigh, Taehyung scrunches his eyes shut and shakes his head, like he’s clearing the funk away. “It doesn’t matter, we’re all in this together.”

Jungkook cocks his head. “But- Well, no, this is still a competition. Technically we should be against each other, not together.”

The air leaves Taehyung’s lungs in a rushed breath. “Fuck, you’re right. I should, like, hate you, right?”

Jungkook hums with a raised brow. “I guess.”

“I should be trying to cockblock you and tell Y/n you have syphilis, yet here I am wanting to suck the dicks of everyone in this room. But also maybe hold the hands of everyone in this room. You can imagine my confusion.”

Jungkook feels his stress slip away at the genuine smile that tugs at Taehyung’s lips. Even if his eyes are still muted with sorrow, he doesn’t seem so despairing over it. The youngest reaches out to grip onto Taehyung’s upper arm reassuringly. “We could have hate sex if it’d make you feel better?” he offers up in a soft voice.

The blue depths in Taehyung’s gaze recede a little more as his smile brightens. “I’d like that.”

The two manage to hold this Hallmark moment for a little longer before Taehyung’s shoulders begin to shake with suppressed laughter. In seconds, the two are dissolving into chuckles and snickers, Jungkook throwing his head back and Taehyung hunching over with the force of it.

Across from them, Namjoon and Jimin pause their excited conversation to stare at them in bewilderment.

“What did we miss?” Namjoon asks, brow knitted but eyes wide.

“Never mind,” Jungkook deflects, heart feeling strangely warm as Taehyung grins under his lashes at him, like the two of them have an inside joke. “We should probably pack up, though, unless we want Producer Shin coming back in the middle of our top secret team meeting.”

Jimin clicks his tongue in agreement and stands up off Namjoon’s lap. Lithe like a cat, his arms come up over his head and his back arches into a stretch, eyes fluttering shut. Jungkook knows his eyes aren’t the only pair watching the way his shirt lifts to display a band of pale golden skin.

“Alright,” the porn star lets out with a relaxed sigh, arms dropping and shirt falling again, “let’s head out, then. Joonie’s sorted.”

Namjoon stands up behind him, nodding shyly. “Thank you, guys. I feel a lot better about it now.”

Jungkook and Taehyung share a look. “To be fair,” Jungkook says with a light cough, “I don’t think Tae and I really helped at all.”

Jimin sends the two of them a broad smile, eyes crinkling in good humour. “You did provide the whiteboard,” he points out. “Though I imagine your efforts to steal it without Sejin realising were in vain.”

Taehyung frowns, hand automatically lifting to rub at his jaw. “What do you mean?”

“There aren’t any cameras in here,” Jungkook offers to Jimin, “he wouldn’t have seen it!”

Jimin blinks. “Where do you think Sejin went after helping Tae out of the staircase?”

Jungkook feels the odd pressure of dawning realisation that hasn’t quite materialised. “His office,” he answers slowly, “why?”

Behind Jimin, Namjoon ducks out with a sympathetic smile. “He probably noticed the giant whiteboard missing, Jungkookie.”

The camboy opens his mouth, waits for words to come, and closes it again. “Mm,” he replies eloquently.

“Oh, we’re gonna get in big trouble, huh?” Taehyung mumbles, fiddling with the pen in his hands.

“Wait,” Namjoon offers, “I’ll tell him it was me.”

Jungkook frowns. “How does that help?”

“Sejin won’t get mad at me, he loves me. I’ll just tell him I was getting a head start on my work for next semester.”

“When did he tell you he loved you?” Jungkook asks with a pout. “He never says it back to me.”

“I didn’t- What?” Namjoon frowns. “I was just chatting to him for advice one night and he told me I remind him of his son.”

“He doesn’t have any kids,” Jimin says with a lilt of confusion.

“I think he was talking about his cat,” Namjoon admits with a pained look, “but he loves his cat, so he must love me. Anyways, I’ll tell him I was using it for study and I don’t think he’ll mind. Just clear off the board and one of you can help me wheel it back.”

Jungkook sighs a breath of relief, turning back to the board. Beside it, Taehyung is frozen with his head bent and his mouth dropped open, staring at the pen. Neither Jin nor him thought to bring a duster, so Jungkook balls up his sleeve in his palm and wipes off the-

And wipes off the-

“Why isn’t it coming off?” Jungkook asks frantically, scrubbing over the shiny lines of black. “It’s not even smudging!”

“Um, Jungkookie,” Taehyung utters lowly, curls shifting as he slowly looks up. “This is a permanent marker.”

Jungkook’s hand freezes. He steps back, eyes wide as they stare at the image drawn in thick black.

The blooming form of what looked like a lily on the bottom corner, that was fine, but the giant all-caps Y/N PREGNANT followed by a very evocative drawing of a heavily pregnant woman beside a patriotic Namjoon was going to be harder to explain.

Slowly, Jungkook swivels on his heel, coming face-to-face with Namjoon, whose eyes are almost open wider than his mouth. “Hey, hyung,” the youngest offers up with a tentative smile, “how much d’you reckon Sejin loves that cat?”

--

It’s late afternoon by the time Jungkook has done his penance with the whiteboard and Sejin himself, but luckily it means that Yoongi is definitely in his room when Jungkook goes knocking.

More content with his own company, the second oldest tended to retire to his bedroom early to “entertain” himself. Jungkook had assumed this was a euphemism for masturbating, but Taehyung had informed him that the doctor was making his way through an impressive collection of the Slam Dunk manga these days.

As expected, Yoongi opens the door to Jungkook on his third knock, ushering him in with a look of confusion.

“Hyung,” Jungkook begins in an entreating tone, “you have a first aid kid in your room, don’t you?”

Yoongi’s eyes widen, back straightening in alarm. “Is someone hurt?”

“No, no, it’s sex reasons,” Jungkook explains quickly, eyes wandering around the room, eying up the open closet in the back of his room. “Do you have a white coat?”

“I- what? No, I don’t have a white coat,” Yoongi stutters out, face scrunched up in confusion. “What is this about?”

Jungkook hums, brushing back hair out of his face absentmindedly as he delves deeper into Yoongi’s room, checking in the drawers of the small nightstand. “I can make do without the white coat,” Jungkook murmurs to himself, before turning on his heel to face the older man again. “Do you have stirrups?”

“Stirrups?” Yoongi asks incredulously. His arms are folded over his chest tightly, though the brown loose-knit sweater loses the intimidation factor. “Why would I bring stirrups? They’re attached to the chair anyway, I can’t just pack them away in my suitcase.”

Dammit. Jungkook collapses onto Yoongi’s bed back-first, staring blankly up at the ceiling. “You need to help me, hyung. I’m determined to win fan favourite this week, so I need to go all out.”

A sigh of realization comes from the other side of the room. “Your prompt,” Yoongi remarks flatly. “What is it; nurse and patient?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open as he sits up. “Doctor and patient,” he declares proudly. “I asked if Sejin could promote me to neurosurgeon but he said it wasn’t relevant.” The thought dampens Jungkook’s spirits a bit. Even just regular surgeon would have been nice. “But anyway,” he continues, “whatever props you have would be greatly appreciated. I already googled a list of medical terms, so I’m feeling pretty good.”

Yoongi sighs again, but he shuffles over to his closet and pulls out a sizeable, bright green first aid kit, laying it on the bed. Jungkook gasps in excitement and makes room for him, but Yoongi just tuts. “First of all,” he explains while unzipping it, “these aren’t props, they’re medical-grade supplies. And you can’t have them all. I don’t trust you with most of the things in here.”

Jungkook frowns, but shrugs off the disappointment. Something is still better than nothing. “Okay, hyung,” he allows in a small voice, “thank you.”

Yoongi fails to hide the quirk of a fond smile as he takes out some of the stuff in the kit. “You owe me,” he says instead.

--

You have to give it to Jungkook; the dedication to his craft is impressive.

After he sent you a vague and rather concerning message about needing to see you in the gym for ‘health reasons’, you were greeted by a hand-written DO NOT DISTURB (unless you’re y/n) sign taped to the door.

Inside, the indoor gym had been transformed. Most of the larger equipment had been shifted to one side, leaving the other half open. In the middle of the open area is a weightlifting bench covered in a white sheet which you’re certain was off his bed. A comically out-of-place office chair is beside a table which Jungkook is using like a desk. The desk is pushed up against the mirror which fills one whole wall of the gym, and you can’t help but laugh at the infographics and charts he’s printed out on A4 sheets of paper and taped to the mirror.

There’s a fuzzy x-ray of some ribs taped next to a heart rate line, frozen mid-pulse like he took a screenshot off a video, which is next to a chart filled with increasingly smaller letters, like one you’d see in an optometrist’s office. Though everything is mismatched, the effort he’s put it really warms your heart.

The desk is where you find Jungkook. He sits with his back to you, typing away obnoxiously loudly at a laptop on the desk. On the screen, gibberish keysmashes fill up an otherwise empty Word document. Rather than a lab coat, Jungkook looks more sharply dressed than you’ve ever seen him in a ironed button-up shirt, pale blue. The back of the fabric is taut against his skin, clearly borrowed from a slightly smaller, or at least less jacked man. But it provides a streamlined view of the muscles in his back and shoulders, tucked into belted black pants to highlight the surprisingly narrow waist.

Kitschy or not, you’re grateful that Jungkook got some kind of cheesy medical roleplay if it meant you finally got to see him in fitted clothing.

Even though he must have heard you open the door and lock it behind you, he remains tapping away at the keys. His head tips slightly to the side, expectant.

“Jungkook,” you call out, disappointed and a little confused when he doesn’t respond. But you quickly realise your mistake. “Oh, uh. Doctor Jeon?”

Like clockwork, he spins around magnanimously on the chair, hands splayed out in a welcoming gesture. “Ah, my favourite patient. Do come in.”

So we already know each other then, you surmise. Remembering all these details was an unexpected, though not entirely unwelcome part of this week’s theme. Developing a backstory, information on the scene, almost felt like constructing a scaffold to continue. There was something equally reassuring and exciting about it. A bolt of arousal shooting between your legs, you step in to the middle of the open area, sitting awkwardly on the covered bench.

“Take a seat,” Jungkook adds redundantly, like he’s following a script. “Let me just bring your file up. Name?”

You pause as he wheels back around to the laptop, pulling up what looks like an Excel spreadsheet. “I thought I was your favourite patient,” you quip with a smirk, but unable to suppress your fondness at how much thought he’s clearly put into it.

Jungkook’s shoulders drop, but he doesn’t falter. “Of course, I’m just going through the motions. I’ve been in the field for so long, you know.” He shrugs demurely. “I was actually a neurosurgeon before this.”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles out of your throat before you can catch it. “You went from neurosurgeon to doctor? Isn’t that backwards?”

Jungkook’s eyes waver, biting his lip. “I prefer the simple life,” he offers as an explanation. He shakes himself out of it, and turns back to the computer once more with a warm sigh. “Alrighty then, I’ve got your file here. It’s been a while since your last visit,” he remarks, cursor hovering over a watermarked image of a clock. “I better check your vitals again.”

You watch in bemusement as he readies himself, first sanitising his hands using a small travel-size bottle that’s in the shape of a cartoon shark, then pulls on a pair of latex gloves that had been lying on his desk. Even in the strangely comedic atmosphere, the sound of him snapping the glove against his wrist makes you gasp soundlessly, thighs pressing together in need.

Jungkook notices it, eyes darting down as he rolls his chair over. He unbuttons each cuff off his shirt and rolls them up to expose his forearms. His hair is getting thicker as it grows, and even though it’s pushed back, a few locks slip forward to frame the smirk on his face.

You swallow, neck craning as he gets closer. The bench you’re sat on clearly isn’t intended as an examination table because it’s just as low to the ground as the chair, and there’s something inside you that runs electric when he comes close, looking down at you from it. With spread knees, he places them on either side of yours and pins you there, making you gasp.

The feeling of the cold gloves on your cheekbones, pressing to keep you steady is dizzying, more so when he looks intensely into your eyes, searching with a cool professionalism that you’d never seen from him before. Though it’s new, you recognise the shift in the tension of the room signifying the true start of the scene.

In your peripheral vision, you spot his tongue darting out to wet his lips, but you’re locked onto his gaze. Jungkook smiles softly. “Eyes are healthy,” he remarks, “good to know you’ll be able to see everything properly.”

The gloves catch on your skin, one sliding down to tighten on your chin, tipping your neck back even more. You’re barely breathing, waiting for his move.

“Open up and say ahh,” he instructs huskily, and you’re responding without thought, letting your lips part and your tongue relax. Jungkook frowns. “Wider.” You feel the corners of your mouth pang as you lower your jaw as much as you can in his grasp. “Keep it like that,” he demands sternly, and your heart thuds.

To your surprise, he doesn’t just look inside. You jerk instinctively in his grip as two gloved fingers slide down your tongue, but his rebuking glare has you settling again, trying to breathe through your nose as he delves deeper, smirking at the way you squirm, legs trapped between his and eyes lidded as you feel the length of his fingers heavy on your tongue.

Quicker than you can put your head around, his fingers plunge deeper, far enough down your throat to make you gag, tears springing to his eyes. His fingers leave as you let out a little cough, blinking wetly at him in betrayal.

Jungkook smirks, not bothering to wipe the shine of your saliva off his glove. “Gag reflex intact and responding well,” he notes smugly.

“How is that a vital?” you question, voice slightly hoarse.

“It’s vital for what I’m about to do to you,” he quips with a lecherous grin, and you bite down hard on your tongue to fight the urge to tremble.

“And what is that, Doctor?” you ask instead, blinking owlishly up at him.

His lip quirks. “Don’t play coy, now,  Y/n, I’ve seen the way you look at me during our appointments. Tell me; why is it that you came here today?”

You swallow, eyes heavy on him. “I’ve been suffering a strange sensation, Doctor,” you make out, your voice quieter than you intended. “Can you make me feel better?”

Jungkook exhales harshly, hands dropping to rest on your knees. “And where does it hurt, hm? Here?”

You suck in a breath as his legs spread further, coming close enough that your knees press against his crotch, the hardness undeniable. A single hand shifts up to lay against your forehead, questioning, and you shake your head. His hand skims lower, pressing firmly against your sternum where you feel your heart race against it.

“Here?” he questions, and continues on when he receives a negative. Next he veers off to the side, cupping a breast and brushing a thumb over your nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt. “Does it ache here?”

You whimper, arching into his hand. “A little bit,” you offer up weakly, glad you opted out of wearing a bra in anticipation of the scene.

The answer seems to amuse Jungkook, and you shiver when you feel his other hand playing with the hem of your shirt, the gloves tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach. “I better check it out then, hm?”

You feel so exposed, the air conditioner chilling the air and the mirror reflecting Jungkook’s back as he leans in close, breath tickling your bare shoulder as his hands cup your breasts.

Without further preamble, he begins to roll your nipples simultaneously between his fingers, enough pressure to make you shiver as he studies your reactions closely. The feeling of being touched so intimately with the barrier of latex gloves feels both taboo and exciting, and without even realising you find your hands clenched in the fabric of his shirt, gripping at his biceps as they flex with every movement.

“Does it hurt when I do this?” Jungkook asks lowly, humming in response when you shake your head. “What about this?” Suddenly, he’s tugging, pinching them harshly enough to make your back arch to ease the pressure.

You squeal, fingers digging in deeper to the corded muscle of his forearms. “Yeah,” you gasp out shakily, “h-hurts.”

Jungkook doesn’t stop. “But you like it, don’t you?” he accuses as he continues his rough treatment. “Coming into my office, begging me to touch you like this. Fucking filthy.”

A moan slips out as you rock your hips against the bench, seeking friction for the heat between your legs. “Please, Ju- Doctor Jeon, it hurts,” you cry out, gaze imploring as you blink up at him.

All of a sudden, he pulls back entirely, hands falling back onto his own knees as he watches you. “Show me,” he instructs, eyes hazy.

You shiver, the cool air shifting over your naked torso as his stare burns molten hot. “Show you what?”

Carding a hand through his hair to push it back, Jungkook wets his lips. “Show me where it aches the most,” he explains, voice like crushed velvet.

This was a side of him you’d never seen before; neither the competitive dom nor the obedient sub. His sexual versatility never fails to surprise you, and you find yourself hopelessly lost in the calm dominant air he exudes. Shakily, you part your legs.

He scoffs lightly. “That isn’t much help if I can’t see it. Undress.”

A rushed exhale leaves you at his shortness, but you stand up and push off your leggings and panties, kicking them to the side. It’s far harder to bare yourself to him this time, and as you sit, you can’t help but hesitate.

Jungkook raises a brow at your pause, leaning back like he’s disappointed. “I’m a very busy man, Y/n,” he chastises, “these appointment slots aren’t long and if you don’t want the next patient coming in while you’re choking on my cock, I suggest you do as I say, when I say it.”

Your legs fly apart the moment his voice lowers into a growl, clenching automatically at the open air at your most vulnerable place. “Please help me, Doctor,” you plead lowly.

Jungkook curses under his breath and comes forward again, placing a single gloved hand over your core. You jerk instinctively but keep your legs open at his warning glare. Even through the gloves, he has to feel how wet you are, slicking up the latex without him moving it. “It hurts here, hm? Lie down on your back and I’ll take a look.”

Your breath picks up as you turn and lower yourself onto the white sheet, legs dangling over the end. To your surprise, Jungkook doesn’t come around but returns to the desk, rolling his chair away and rifling through what looks like a first aid kit. You crane your head to watch him, narrowing your eyes in confusion as he returns with what looks like two rolled up lengths of gauze bandage.

“This isn’t the usual gyno office,” he explains, unravelling one slowly, “so we don’t have stirrups. But don’t worry; I’ll make sure to keep you nice and open for me.”

Like he’s done this a million times before - though the rational part of your brain knows he’s probably making this up as he goes along - he begins using the bandage material to bind your ankles to the legs of the bench, wide enough that you have to shuffle right to the edge, spread wide. He doesn’t say a thing when he ties them, mumbling to himself like he’s recalling instructions, and slips in his fingers to test how tight they are.

He’s kneeled between your open legs now, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as he runs his fingertips over your sopping folds, eyes lidded with arousal. “Does it hurt here, Y/n?”

You shake your head, fighting the urge to scoot even closer. “Inside,” you explain, sighing in relief when two fingers plunge inside your walls, scissoring to stretch you out.

Jungkook has one hand on your thigh to hold you steady as he rocks his fingers back and forth like he’s seeking something, and the feeling of the latex, so slick with your juices, has you trembling immediately. “It’s important in this line of work,” Jungkook breathes out as his fingers widen even more inside you, “to be thorough, so just relax for me, let me in.”

The moment you try and unclench, his fingers curl and press up against your g-spot, and it’s like a line of electricity connecting all your nerves together lights up. Your legs instinctively flex in an attempt to close around his hand, but the taut bonds keep them spread, and you sob at the reminder, arms giving out so that you end up flat on your back again.

Jungkook chuckles. “Looks like we found the problem,” he remarks cheerily. His fingers continue their assault, targeted now as you writhe beneath him, and the wet sounds of the latex as he increases to three digits echo obscenely in the large room. “That’s it.”

The joints of your fingers ache as you cling onto the edges of the table for dear life, unable to stop the rising wave of pleasure that threatens to crash. It’s so close you feel it in your teeth, eyes rolling back and babbling nonsense to try and get him to go faster, harder.

Faintly, you hear the sound of him humming in amusement, and your mind conjures the mental image of him, sleeves rolled up and gloves dripping with your arousal, hair falling in his eyes and teeth glinting as he grins and brings you to orgasm. It’s that thought that finally begins to tip you over the edge, and just before the wave crests, you feel his fingers slip out.

“Looks like it doesn’t hurt anymore,” he remarks cheekily.

“No, no, no, don’t stop,” you blabber mindlessly, but it’s too late, and your orgasm washes through you as he sits back and watches the unsatisfying roll of pleasure take your body.

Irrationally, you feel tears prick at your eyes with the cruelness of his actions. “It sti- It still hurts, Doctor,” you sob, reaching a hand down to cup yourself, wanting more even as you hiss with the sensitivity.

Jungkook tuts in fake sympathy. “My fingers can’t reach any further, Y/n, if I couldn’t reach where it hurts, I don’t know how I can help you.”

Your bottom lip trembles as you blink your eyes open again, struggling to focus on him. “Use your cock, Doctor, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Is that so?” You could just about cry in relief when you hear a belt buckle jingling, and Jungkook kneeling over you, lining himself up. You can feel the tip pressed against your entrance, just enough pressure to tease you. “Too impatient for me to even put a condom on, naughty girl.”

“Fuck, I don’t care, just fuck me, Doctor,” you whine, your sentence punctuated by a strangled cry as Jungkook snaps his hips forward, bottoming out in a single thrust.

Somehow you’d forgotten just how long Jungkook was - while he wasn’t the thickest or overall largest, and even the thought of mentally cataloguing the guys’ dicks was strange - there was a graceful rising curve to his length that felt like it pierced right through you, and as he starts a punishing rhythm, you feel the air punched right out of your lungs.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jungkook growls. “Acting innocent when you just wanted my cock to fuck you stupid, hm?”

With every thrust, your body is rocked back and forth on the bench, and you feel the bandages that bind your ankles to the legs of the table loosen, a little bit at first and then enough that they slip off completely. It feels odd to no longer be tied down, and Jungkook notices how your body is suddenly shifting far more than it was before.

His pace slows down and you feel a gloved hand wrap around one of your ankles. “Do you want them back on? I don’t think I tied them so well,” Jungkook notes hesitantly, and if you weren’t wildly chasing your orgasm, you might have cooed at his character dropping away to reveal the Jungkook you’re more used to.

As it is, your mind can only care about one thing. “I don’ need them, just fuck me!” you plead, and Jungkook exhales sharply, lifting your ankle until it rests on his shoulder, holding down your hips to fuck into you once more.

With the new angle, you can just about feel him in your guts, and your mouth drops open soundlessly, the only noises escaping your lips are gasped breaths as you feel a deeper orgasm begin to build.

“Oh fuck, I’m close,” you manage to slur out, a raw scream bouncing off the walls as he lowers a hand to rub at your clit, the slippery glove only making him thumb it faster. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking-ah!”

Your sentence is cut off violently as an orgasm rips through you as suddenly and overwhelmingly as an electric shock. If you’re making any noise, you can’t hear it, your mind like white static as you sit there and let it take you. Every inch of you is singing, down to your toes, and as Jungkook continues to fuck you into oversensitivity, you feel another release, one that makes you shudder and Jungkook swear violently, spilling inside you as he grips at the flesh of your hip.

It takes a while for the blur in your mind to clear, vision swirling in hazy technicolour and whole body trembling. Jungkook must have taken the gloves off at some point, because you feel the softness of his hands as they seek out yours, gently squeezing to rouse you more.

“Y/n,” you hear him say, voice still distant. The fog dissipates more with the calling of your name, and you feel yourself tune in again, once more becoming aware of the cool breeze of the aircon on your heated skin. Jungkook leans over you, eyes bright with enthusiasm. “Y/n. Have you ever done that before?”

You knit your brows in confusion. “Huh?”

Jungkook lets out a light chuckle, sitting back. He’s still inside you, barely softening, and you groan at the sensitivity of him shifting. “Look,” he guides, and you glance down to see your stomach and thighs, shiny with wetness, too thin to be cum. The liquid soaks his shirt, too, leaving dark patches. “That was fucking hot,” Jungkook gushes, his doctor persona well and truly evaporated by now.

You laugh weakly, an exhausted smile stretching at your lips. “I don’t think so? Fuck, that was a lot.”

“You were amazing,” Jungkook praises, squeezing your hands one last time before letting them go. He begins to pull out, then, and you shudder at the emptiness, remnants of his cum dripping out of you as he lowers your leg to the ground again. You sit up carefully, still lightheaded, and watch as he quickly rushes over to the desk, returning with a gauze pad damp with water from a bottle.

He uses it to clean you up in comfortable silence, though you can’t help but bite your lip when you notice he’s still hard. Just as he finishes wiping away the last of the wetness from your thighs and begins to wipe himself off, you reach out a hand to halt him.

“Doctor,” you coo teasingly, “won’t you let me clean you up? I wanna repay you for making the ache go away.”

His chest heaves as he shudders out a breath. “Really?”

You blink up at him as he stands in front of you, his cock right in front of you, glossy with your combined cum. “Don’t you wanna test my vitals one more time, doctor? Just to make sure?”

He gulps as you lean closer and lick a single stripe up the underside of his cock. It’s only slightly bitter, and well worth it for the look on his face and the feeling of his hands carding through your hair.

“I’ve got some filing to do,” Jungkook offers up, chest puffing as he slips back into his role, “if you’re going to clean me up like a good little girl, you can do it while I get back to work. I’m a busy man.”

You bite your lip as he cups the back of your neck and urges you to stand, leading you towards the desk. It’s just tall enough that you can sit on your knees below it, mouthing at his cock as he sits back in the office chair.

Giving a guy head isn’t your favourite hobby, but there’s something weirdly erotic about licking your own cum off of him as he types away, all but ignoring you. As you clean him up dutifully, you realise it’s a challenge, of sorts, to suck him off so well that he breaks concentration.

His jaunty clicks of the mouse and punching of keys continues away as he sighs lowly, feeling your lips wrap around his tip. You tongue the slit, keeping yourself steady by gripping the meat of his inner thighs and let your eyes slip shut so that you can fully focus on the minute sounds he lets out.

As you take him deeper and deeper into your mouth, testing your limits, you begin to learn the rhythm of his typing, recognising what makes it falter. His tip is sensitive, particularly where it meets the shaft, but it’s when you lap at the skin below his base and suck his balls into your mouth, tonguing at them languidly, that makes him break concentration fully.

“Hngh, fuck,” you hear him make out in a strangled voice, a hand coming down to stroke at his own length.

You bat it away immediately. “I thought you needed to work, Doctor,” you tease, “just let me take care of it.”

Jungkook groans but doesn’t protest when you wrap a hand around him and jerk him off, fingers tight around him as you suck at his perineum, making him moan prettily, the tapping of keys sparse and uncoordinated.

“Fuck, gonna- gonna cum again,” he warns, thighs tensing with the urge to thrust up into your grip.

You switch positions to suck his length into your mouth, rolling his balls in your hand and bobbing your head. Jungkook’s falling apart so beautifully, gasping out little ah, ah, ahs with every breath.

The moment you feel him stiffen up even more, you suck in a breath through your nose and swallow him down to the back of your throat, tearing up as your gag reflex kicks in.

He cums with a cry, shooting ropes of cum down your throat, and you wring out every last drop until he’s hissing and pulling away.

Jungkook helps you up from under the table with shaky hands and tucks himself away, panting. “Holy shit,” he says with a exhausted laugh, “I should have gone to medical school.”

--

The two of you spend the late afternoon showering and then returning the gym to its former glory. It’s not until even dinner has passed before you recall the rule of the Bangasm Bomb - a different bed every night.

You’d slept in Jungkook’s bed on the Monday night, and so you’d have to seek shelter elsewhere.

After getting into pajamas, you step out into the second-floor hallway, glancing around to see if anyone’s door is open. Jin’s is open - he’s still downstairs having a beer with Yoongi - but you’ve used his bed before. The only other one that’s ajar is the bunkroom.

Inside, Namjoon has his nose inside a book by a Japanese author you’ve vaguely heard of, and Hoseok folds a pile of laundry on his bed.

“Room for one?” you call out hopefully. The two of them have each chosen a separate bunk so they can see each other, but while Namjoon has a bottom bunk, Hoseok’s hair just about brushes the ceiling on the third and highest bed. The two of them glance up in unison, matching grins as they wave you inside.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Hoseok chimes out cheerfully.

“I was wondering if I could stay in a bed here tonight. I can’t room with Jungkook again.”

Hoseok’s eyes warm in recollection of the scene the three of you shared on Monday. “Well, we’ve got plenty of space. Pick a bed; any bed.”

It makes the most sense to choose the third stack of beds, on the far wall from the door. With only two beds instead of three, it’s easy enough to choose the top one, a perfect halfway point between Namjoon and Hoseok. “It’s not so bad in here,” you remark, tugging up the sheets so you can slip under.

“As far as punishments go, it does seem pretty tame,” Namjoon notes, adjusting a pair of thick reading glasses that balance precariously on his nose. “Though I do feel like it’s the equivalent of a naughty corner. Even if it’s comfortable, it’s the social factor that makes it undesirable.”

“It’s basically a sleepover for losers,” Hoseok surmises.

Namjoon pauses and nods. “Well said.”

You chuckle. “You two seem to be getting along well. Doing a lot of bonding in here, are we?”

“Not a whole lot else to do,” Hoseok points out. “We’ve been chatting away the boredom. Did you know Namjoon thought he could speak to crabs when he was a kid?”

Namjoon lets out a wounded noise, carefully marking his page with a bookmark before tossing the novel to the side. “I never said that! I said I thought they were trying to speak to me, okay?” The academic pokes his head out to look up at you. “Hobi-hyung is scared of Big Bird from Sesame Street!”

Instead of defending himself, Hoseok nods with an indignant pout. “Yeah, I fuckin’ am.”

You let out a peal of laughter. “Wow, you’ve only been in here three nights and you’re already sharing childhood trauma? Jin’s gonna be devastated he missed it.”

“Jin had the chance to come join me and he chose not to,” Hoseok declares. “As far as I’m concerned, Namjoon is the only man in this house I respect.”

Namjoon beams, eyes crinkling behind thick frames. “Thanks, hyung. I respect you, too.”

Hoseok’s chest puffs up in pride. “You better after all the things I’ve taught you.”

Namjoon’s blush is telling. You lean forward in interest, glancing back and forth between the two. “Wait; what did you teach him?”

“Well, we’re not gonna tell you,” the dom responds petulantly, turning his nose up, “it’s a surprise for your scene together.”

You pout, leaning back onto the pillow on your bed. “That’s no fun.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun when you get to experience it firsthand, trust me.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh at Hoseok’s teasing, slipping his glasses off and placing them on the nightstand beside the bunks. “Don’t hype it up too much, hyung, I’m not that good yet.”

“You’ll get there, young grasshopper.”

You frown at the uncertain look on Namjoon’s face. “I can go ask one of the others to room with them if you wanna, uh, practice some more.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No, it’s okay. This can be my rest day.”

Hoseok sighs sweetly, rubbing his eyes. “Actually, rest does sound pretty nice. We can pick it up tomorrow. Night, Joonie. Night, Y/n.”

You and Namjoon chime out a simultaneous reply as Hoseok climbs down the stairs to deposit his pile of folded laundry on the empty bed below, returns to the top bunk, and tucks himself in.

Namjoon seems equally relieved to be able to go to bed early, curling up with a pillow cuddled to his chest. “Sweet dreams,” his low timbre calls out.

You smile fondly at your two boys, snuggled up with peaceful faces as they drift away. “Sleep well,” you offer up, before getting comfortable and letting your own eyes slip closed.

[theogygiaisland]

Extra fuck it- PACIFIC RIM AU: Batfamily edition PART 2 (Red Chemo)

Characters: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Damian Wayne, Duke Thomas, Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown Warnings: Teen (13+) Categories: Action, Found Families, Angst, Fluff Words: 4,093 words Read on: AO3 (<<prev | next>>)

They call them 'The Crazies'. Tim knows better. Across any universe- they always adjust for each other.

--

She was always on his left. Walking the hallways. Sitting on the benches. Sharing fries off his tray. Laughing. Smiling. There. Present.

She shares his memories. She knows how much that mattered to him.

And he appreciated it.

Nowadays, he sometimes wakes up to a Steph shaped indent on the left side of his bed. Sometimes she’s in it. More often she’s not. But not there where she mattered most. Not in the drift with him. Not in his mind.

He can’t feel her past his body. No inside jokes. No lingering cravings for waffles. Nothing.

The hollowness took over where both of them stood before. Now it’s only him. Him and his memories. Him and the gap. Always just him. It consumes. Encompasses.

A bitter laugh bubbles in his throat. Steph doesn’t even shift on her side of the bed. Only the beeping of monitoring machines fill the air.

Why did you go too far where I can’t reach you. Why didn’t you take me with you?

–

Jason has left this division before and he will do it again, whether Wayne agrees or not. Dick on the other hand has different ideas.

“What’s this?”

“Food. C’mon!”

“Don’t you have a co-pilot to sit with?” Jason asks, but he follows the older man’s footsteps and into a cafeteria table.

“Co-pilots are not conjoined at the hip.”

“Not if they don’t want to be poached.” Jason says, hoping to have Dick realize that he doesn’t want to be here. “I heard Damian is training with her this morning.”

The man only smiles. It’s unnerving. Jason proceeds to pick on his fries with a bored thumb and forefinger despite his hair standing on his arms.

“I’m not here to talk about Cass–”

“–Maybe you should–”

“I’m here to talk about you. You’re getting stir crazy from not being out there.” Dick says with a nod of his head to wherever the fuck ‘out there’ is. “I heard you tried sparring with Duke.”

“Only on Wayne’s orders.”

“You gave him a concussion.”

“Not my fault. Wayne. Orders.”

Dick taps his fork on Jason’s forehead. “You’re not listening little brother. Everyone and their mother can see you want to be out there and I know you enough to know that you’re gonna go play runaway when you keep rejecting your partners.”

“It’s because I have a partner.”

“Roy doesn’t count anymore. You know that. You of all people should respect that. He broke his leg in four places and his arm is fucking shot in the drift. He told us he can’t come back little brother. You know this. I know this. Our mothers– rest in peace– knows this.”

“What do you want me to do then!” Jason asks, nostrils flaring and arms crossed on his chest.

“Try.” Dick nods, unpertubed. “You still got Steph. You still have a chance to work with Tim. They’re both experienced jaeger pilots.”

“Aren’t they together?”

Dick shakes the fork in a so-so gesture. “Relationship wise, eh. But they don’t drift anymore and as far as B is concerned, they’re free game. Steph’s gonna train with Duke when he gets cleared– no thanks to you. Again.”

“Then I get the other kid. Great.” Jason sighs. “Is his file open?”

“Locked and encrypted.”

“Perfect. I’ll go read it.”

Dick smiles. “There’s my little brother. Give him a chance, alright? The kid’s nice from what I saw. Closed off but nothing a good conversation wouldn’t cure.”

Jason stands, leaving his bag on the table. Dick will return it later. Probably. He has a file to read.

“I still want to throttle you, you know.”

“And I still want to punch you in your fucking face, don’t worry!” Dick chirps and Jason only then noticed how white Dick’s knuckles are holding on to his fork.

–

“Choppers! Retrieve my Ranger NOW!” Bruce yells all around him, knowing he can do nothing in his base while Steph’s chute is gliding away from the fight.

Still, Glitter Chrome is active. Right hand impaled-skewered-stuck on the beast’s thorny nose. Left hand around its shoulder in some sick parody of a dance partner.

The kaiju is struggling less and less. The nuclear reactor bruns brightly– almost too bright to be comfortable.

Tim, hold on, please. Hold on.

–

“So you’re the replacement.” Jason tells him in the hallways.

Tim resists the urge to snarl.

He’s no replacement, he’s the one that got left behind. His hand twitches by his side.

He ends up with an ice pack for his broken nose and bruised ribs for his troubles. Ends up with a co-pilot despite his anxiety and his fears.

–

Jason shifts through houses with the thermostat turned high. Tim walks down dark alleys in the snow.

Jason prods a gaping chasm where us-Glitz-jaeger-hurt-hurt-hurt used to sit. Tim, empty, me, tired, bitter, me me me cold, alone, iced running through veins, trying to get warm and failing to thaw out

Tim acknowledges the painful burns where Roy-brawl-survive-survive-survive! cascades freely. Jason, struggling, me, trying, overwhelming, me me me hot lava, pouring, over and over, blazing, smouldering

Then Tim feels the swollen eye. Jason feels the broken nose. Me, me, me turns to us, us, us.

“Stabilized.” The AI says.

Tim opens his eyes to see Jason smile at him, baring all his teeth and pink gums. Jason sees Tim lift up the corner of his mouth in a smirk. Opposites. Balance. Fizzing away Jason’s emotions like a cool cloth on a fever. Steadying Tim’s drowning ache for a fresh breath.

Everyone’s a little shocked their handshake stabilized after fifteen minutes of loud beeping, of haywired vital signs and Bruce’s barking orders to let them be. Jason-Tim and Tim-Jason both aren’t surprised on the compatibility.

Together they feel the broken nose, the bruised ribs, the swollen eye, the twisted ankle. They’re like the injuries born out of the cruelty of the match. Their talk is the pain that blossoms evenly between the two of them.

They feel alive for goddamn once.

–

Roy sits there, waiting for him to wake up in his own little medical cot next to him.

“And the boy lives!”

Jason groans into his arm, blocking the harsh medical lights. Roy removes it with his arm. Hold his hand steady like he always does when he wipes the floor with Jason’s ass.

“There, there pretty boy. How’s the head?”

“Like I’ve been headbutted by a fucking monster.”

“Ain’t far from the truth partner.” Roy laughs. Releases their grip. Reaches over Jason’s head to call the nurse. It makes Jason frown, squinting at him.

“Why’d you have to reach over…”

He sees Roy’s left arm hanging awkwardly, fingers curled like dead bugs. Lifeless compared to the other one gripping the side of the bed like a lifeline.

Roy frowns for the first time. “Jay…”

“Oh.”

“I have to tell you something.”

Jason doesn’t hear. The nurse comes in. Roy is calling his name. But Jason can’t hear.

Because Roy is fucking left handed and he doesn’t use it.

–

Cass comes to him one day as he eyes Steph laughing with Duke. He watches as she has an arm slung across his shoulders and she doubles over with her giggles. He wasn’t avoiding her, he wasn’t actively looking for her either. Tim holds his juice box tighter.

“It’s not your fault.” She tells him. Tim was/wasn’t avoiding her too. So he hums. Acknowledging. Not agreeing. Cass rolls her eyes. “You’re being stupid.”

“I don’t see why it’s stupid.”

“Stupid.” She flicks a finger to his forehead making him turn his full attention at her. “She doesn’t blame you either. Doesn’t understand, but doesn’t blame.”

“Now that’s stupid.”

Cass sits with him, under the gaze of Red Chemo, his brand new jaeger. Mark 5. With a double core and fluid synapse system. Faster processing input-output rates and steam powered joints. A whole lot of danger and more. It has armor that’s as thick as his arm and a powercell as strong as the fury under Jason’s skin. Red Chemo, the one that’s supposed to survive anything, no matter what it takes.

“What happened before, with you and her, it’s not just you that became different. That’s why you don’t drift anymore. It’s not just you. You’re both different.”

Tim swings his feet. It was hard acknowledging what happened as something real. It was painful. It still hurt. But now with Red Chemo, Jason, who’s presence flares at the back of his mind, burning-raging-stable, Tim feels his own ignored emotions crash into him.

“She’s sorry, by the way.”

“She’s told me.”

“You look like you have to be told again.” Cass quirks her lips. “So different now.”

“I guess that’s a bad thing.”

Cass shakes her head. “No. Stronger.”

Stronger. He likes that.

“Maybe I’ll go talk to her.”

“You should.” Cass agrees, stealing his juice box from his fingers.

–

A second, more stable neural handshake makes them stick together. Being half in each other’s brain, half out of it feels weird to do anything without each other. One for the fear of the creeping coldness, another for the anxiety of their own explosion.

Tim lounges by Red Chemo’s feet while Jason sits next to him halfway into a game of solitaire. If it were any other, Jason would’ve felt awkward. Needed to rile up a reaction. Goad into a fight.

But this was Tim. Tim doesn’t need words or reactions anymore. He’d go into a fight with nothing but a raised eyebrow and a knowing look in his eyes.

Instead, Jason clears his throat and clears the air.

“My knees ache when it rains sometimes.”

Tim arches an eyebrow but doesn’t miss a beat. “I have a scar on my stomach from my time in the military, it still itches.”

Jason just wrinkles his nose. “So that’s what that was.”

“Any other thing?”

“I’m allergic to peanuts.” Jason.

“I sometimes have allergic rhinitis.” Tim.

“I like red flavored gummies.” Jason?

“I like diet coke.” Tim?

“I like spinach.” Tim-Jason?

“So that’s why I’m craving.” Jason-Tim?

“I don’t like spiders.”

“Funny you should mention that, I don’t like spiders either.”

“My right arm’s shot. Well not fully. I have tremors throughout the day.”

“But you performed well in the simulation. I didn’t feel any tremors.” It came out more as a question. Jason stops playing and turns to him. He was losing anyways with the stupid ace of clubs nowhere to be seen.

“It’s situational. Still steady when in the drift. They say it’s psychogenic.” Tim frowns at his right hand. Lifts it up to show the odd twitching. Jason remembers. PTSD was what they threw around when they thought they’re not listening. “Nothing that impares you. I guess I never left the jaeger that day.”

Jason folds the hand in Tim’s. “Don’t worry, we adjust, Little Red. We always adjust.”

Fortunately, they’re always listening.

“Hey!” Dick calls for the both of them and Tim didn’t need to feel Jason to know he follows.

–

Stephanie is limp in her comm-pod, but the visuals in his helmet shows she’s only unconscious– not dead. She’s out of the drift but he can still feel the raw grief emanating from where she left a gaping hole in his mind.

He ejects her before he thinks about it.

The kaiju is too loud in that small Drivesuit.

Tim-alone, screams.

The nuclear reactor burns the soles of his feet. The mental wounds stabs his soul.

Gone-safe-gone-pain

–

Striking Onyx isn’t new, but the form they take in fighting is practiced. Refined. Moving like a well oiled machine fresh out of the training mats. Steph might be battle ready yesterday but Duke was their fresh kaiju chow straight from wherever Bruce gets them, complete with tag and receipt. He still doesn’t understand that there are no such things as proper stances in a fistfight.

It’ll probably take him a week.

The Belting Robin pilots are a pair because they both have the same style and flair for dramatics. The same range of movements. The same need to be fucking extra. They both looked like they belonged in the sky, and who knows who persuaded who to agree on testing the breaking point of a shock absorber– or maybe a few hundred. Dick has always this unnerving way of making his smiles get under someone’s skin, but Cass is Cass, and you don’t say no to Cass unless you want to take away your bartering privileges.

Jaegers. Wayne’s jaegers. Both powerful. Both undeniably fucking dangerous in battle.

But Jason and Tim, Jason-Tim, Jason-Tim-Machine– now that’s a sight to behold. Tim empties himself in the fight, and Jason balances with giving more and more and then some fucking more. They fight with steel beams held like a shiv, or cell towers like a switchblade. They fight unpredictably. They fight to hurt. Raging. Angry. Aching for more more moremoremore–

Red Chemo over extends because they fucking can.

–

Tim notices Damian first.

“Hi.” He says, and makes Jason look up from the patrol schedules between them. They still weren’t cleared for patrol.

“Drake. Todd.”

“Hi brat.” Jason replies in greeting. “Robins kick you out or something?”

Damian huffs. “They’re on patrol schedule now and the past 5 hours of Striking Onyx’s shift is nothing but hearing Brown and Duke’s awful rendition of YMCA. It was that or hanging out with you guys so I’ll take my chances here.”

“And you want to hang out with the people who are grounded. Due to uncomissioned fighting. The weirdos.”

Tim throws Jason a look. “Sure Damian, have a seat, we’d love to have you.” He scoots over.

Damian slides into the seat. “You know Todd, just because some idiot with a badge thought you’re both freaks for drifting, and Father a sociopath for putting both of you in a jaeger together doesn’t mean he holds everyone’s opinion. It’s not the first time co-pilots fought.”

“Have you seen our jaeger? They literally painted a radiation symbol on its front.”

“Well you are named Red Chemo. You want what, the doxorubicin chemical formulation on your chestplate?”

Tim laughs. “So you don’t think we’re freaks do you?” Teasing.

He finds himself not caring what others think. If Jason was lava and Tim was ice, anyone between them were stone-cold dead.

He catches Jason’s amused look.

“Oh no I never said that. I wholeheartedly agree.” Damian says, but his eyes are laughing.

Jason leans over to Damian. “If you tell us who the dumb badge is, I promise to spare you from retaliation.”

In Tim’s head, he thinks about blue kaiju blood stained sheets and laughs.

Somewhere, an alarm rings.

–

Mercy Hospital was nothing but a destroyed ruin of a building at the edge of a raging kaiju. It spots them almost immediately the way they spot the litter of dead bodies on the pavement.

“Steph…” Tim warns although he knows it’s too late. He can feel the hurt and fails to stop the anger coursing through his veins. Blood in his ears. Red on his tongue. She’s overpowering. “Steph! Listen to me! Let it flow!”

“Command to Glitter Chrome, connection destabilizing, you are not in sync! Do not engage. I repeat, do not engage.”

“No, no, no, Steph!”

The kaiju roars before it pounces on them.

Steph raises her fists. Tim painfully follows suit.

“Glitter Chrome do not ENGAGE!”

–

Bab’s stares at her technician panel. It can’t be.

Damian behind her stiffens.

“Another one!” She adds to the flurry of the room. “Marshall! That’s a Cat-4’s and a Cat-3 and the Breach is still pulsing. Striking Onyx is already out. Orders!”

“Lantern Corps?”

“Currently engaged.”

“Alaska?”

“Kent can be here in 2 hours. That’s 2 hours too late.”

Bruce pauses. Eyes the two other pilots at the side of the room who’s hand twitches and eye contact were a conversation of their own.

–

“You fucker, you’re the reason we keep mint ice cream here. Get that stupid flavor out’ta your memories and out’ta my mouth.”

“Don’t diss on it til you try it.”

“You know I have.”

“Then you know it’s fucking great.”

“If you two assholes are done, we’d like to start deployment sequence now.” Kyle’s voice filters through the Drivesuit.

Roy laughs. “Ain’t my fault Jay’s got no taste in his big head of his.”

“When we’re done with this I’m gonna shove a pint down so far down your throat–”

“Rangers.”

“Yes sir-ma’am-sir!”

“Now, there’s the Cat 4 at the edge of the shore of Cabo San Lucas. It’s a Knifehead type alias–”

“Beserker. Yeah, yeah.”

“We know. We were there when we reset the clock.”

Kyle sighs. Jason can already see him pinch the bridge of his nose and Roy laughs as the thought brushes against his mind.

He’s the one that put us in here, he’s gonna have to deal with it. Jason snorts, acknowledging the one passed back.

“Well if you two assholes are ready, choppers are releasing in 1 minute.”

–

Bruce knew there is something to behold between the partnership of Jason and Tim. He was counting on it.

He just didn’t count that it’d be him their new alliance would be up against first.

“Red Chemo, no, you’re neural handshake is deep but unsteady. We need more time.”

“Bruce we can do this–”

“–You’re condemning them old man!”

“No.”

“They don’t have time jackass!” Jason snarls.

“We can make more time.” Tim hisses.

Bruce takes one look at both of them, standing side by side, determination on each other’s face. Tim’s face is set in a scowl. Jason’s right hand trembles minutely. Both stand their ground in his face.

“Fine. Deployment in 5. Go.”

Red Chemo was more radioactive than his own jaeger. He knows there’s a reason they were the only ones compatible. Their namesake was proof enough.

–

Tim doesn’t know where his memories ended and Jason’s started.

He remembers Roy's laughter in the mess hall. Hushed conversations at the bar. Roy’s smile after a job well done. The tears when it finally wasn’t. Tim catches brief memories of grimy streets and leering stares from Johns. The burn of alcohol. The warm breaths on his neck. Glass on his hands. Mint chocolate on his tongue.

The memories might be fleeting but the emotions twist and turn and pulls him. Up. Down. Left. Right. Echoing. Haunting. Everywhere.

“You okay there Replacement?” Jason asks as Tim opens his eyes.

“Okay here.”

“Neural handshake stabilized.” The AI tells them.

Jason glances one more time and catches Tim’s eyes. He doesn’t need to feel the drift to know where they both stand.

Together.

“Let’s fucking go!”

Red Chemo wakes up with the creak of metal and the Tim-Jason-Machine snarls.

–

“You asshole! Who did this?!” Kyle’s voice rings the hallways.

Roy bangs on Jason’s door. Which that in itself is weird since Jason never changed his lock code in the 14 months that they were copilots. He opens the door with a scowl. Roy holds his blue tinged hands in surrender.

“Hide me!”

“What?”

“I just bombed Reyner’s room with Kaiju blood, please Jay, hide me please please please–”

“Fine!” Jason closes the door behind Roy. “But if anyone asks, you’re on your own.”

“Aww, Jay-jay, don’t be like that.”

“No I’m not– What the fuck Roy! That’s my favorite shirt!”

Roy smirks as he wipes more blood on Jason’s arms. “If I’m going down, you’re coming with me, partner. Now shut up, I hear Kyle’s fat ass clapping down the corridor.”

–

Red Chemo’s powercell dies just in time for the last kaiju to drop dead.

Jason disengages quickly. Throws himself at Tim’s side of the Drivesuit.

“Little Red. Little Red. Little Red.” Jason chants like a prayer. Slaps his face lightly with the paddings of his gloves. Hand at the nape, bringing their foreheads together. “Hey, Replacement, wake the fuck up. Please wake up.”

“Can you be more annoying?” A groan. A soft push away for air.

Jason can’t keep a snort from escaping. “You’ve been in my mind, you tell me. How’s your arm?”

“Like I just got stabbed by a motherfucker and had it ripped off.”

“Oh good, that means you can still feel it.”

To emphasize, Tim raises a steady left middle finger at him.

Jason laughs. He doesn’t slap Tim for being cocky. He doesn’t wipe at their matching nosebleed. Doesn’t hug the ever loving shit out of his co-pilot. He laughs out the anger-threat-need-saving-fuck, and laughs out the worry-Tim-fear-hurt, and laughs the relief-done-ALIVE, and just laughs.

This is why they drift. This is why they pushed. This is why they stayed.

They live as the consequences of their past.

–

“That’s where your mother works for right?” Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right.

“Yeah, Mercy Hospital. She’s a nurse in the Emergency Room.” she smiles at him as they walk down the street. Steph’s on his left side and Tim’s on the right. She says it’s sweet that he walks the outer sidewalk so she gets protected in case any asshole tries to side swipe them. He says if someone side sweeps them it’s because they thought she was a walking eggplant.

They laugh because they both know better.

“Want waffles before we go back to base– oh c’mon don’t raise your eyebrow at me, you know I’ve been craving.”

Tim smiles at her. “I know, it bled over from the last time. Y’know Dick’s gonna kill me for ruining our diet?”

“That’s the plan.” Steph smiles. Teasing. “So. Waffles?”

“Waffles.”

–

A conversation. That’s what training was supposed to be. Meeting each other’s strikes and blows with a staff until you get their rhythm and they get your words. It’s talking, and Jason thinks he’s won– up until the other man snarls, throwing his staff away and uses his fists with a lunge.

Jason finds that he was unsurprised. He blocks with raised hands. Throws an arm out of his own. Catches a fist to his face. Gives one back into a slow shoulder.

It took a shocked minute before the referee catches on to what they’re doing. Another to pry them apart. They both get reprimanded and benched to the side. Around them, other recruits keep on the spar. He wonders if, outside, the jaegers and the monsters are doing the same.

Jason spits out blood from where his teeth caught his cheek as his tongue prods on the damaged tissue.

“I like your right hook.” The other man looks at him with a side-eyed glance. “I’m Roy.”

“Jason. Your knee caught me off guard.”

He counts the scraps on his knuckles. Feels the pain in his ribs. Someone might have to need to squirrel some ice packs from the cafeteria.

Jason thinks he might meet Roy along the way. Maybe for his own ice pack. Maybe for a rematch.

Roy leans on his elbows. Red traces on his shoulder already welting up blue. “I think they’re thinking we don’t play well with others.”

Jason agrees. “Well the others can go to hell.”

Roy laughs at this and stands up. Stretches. Jason usually doesn’t care, but he does and surprises himself more to catch that he doesn’t seem surprised.

“Where are you going?”

“To Marshal Jordan. I think I found someone drift compatible.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. Smiles with red on his teeth.

“Are you sure about wanting to get into my head? It ain’t that pretty.”

Roy smiles a bloodied smile of his own. “My man, don’t worry. I think we’ll match.”

–

They all gather around the room like a vigil, clumped into pairs. Dick and Cass in matching medical cots shoved together. Medics won’t know how they got like that, and the rest of the team won’t tell. They always performed better together.

Damian and Bruce Wayne are at the edge of their group. The Father’s somber looks reflected perfectly on his son. They arrive last and leave first, but not before thoroughly quizzing the reporting doctor until they have the prognosis memorized.

Steph is sitting by Cass’s feet and Duke is a shadow behind her. They’re silent in the peace which was something new. Steph is stressed. Duke looks dimmed. After helping finish off the last kaiju, they were most likely still feeling each other’s grief.

“Will you be okay?” Jason whispers beside Tim in the old ratty couch they managed to fit into a 15 square foot room.

“No.” Tim admits with a smile, all gums and teeth. Left hand squeezing Jason’s right. “But don’t worry. There’s always hope to adjust.”

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Different but the Same (pt. 19)

tw: crying, anxiety, insecurities, fear of loss

Word count: 4.1k

Rating: R18+/M

Omegaverse AU, Rating: 18+/M

Pairings: Iwaizumi x fem!reader, Ushijima x fem!reader

Summary: An unexpected encounter at the Inter-High tournament tossed you into a whirlwind. Being tugged between two males, two different packs, who will reign supreme in this battle for your heart?

Masterlist | prev | next

ch. 19: comfort

Her foot bounced, eyes flitting from the rallying ball, to her boys, to the clock. The whistle blew, a sigh of relief leaving her. They had easily won back to back sets, and now she’d have just enough time to catch the last bit of the Seijoh match. 

“Congratulations on your win.” She bowed to them before looking at Coach Saito. “I’ll take my leave now, Coach.”

“Have fun, (L.Name)-chan.” He smiled, giving her a nod.

As (Name) turned to race off, a voice called out, rooting her there. “I will come with you.”

Olive eyes met (e/c) orbs as she hesitated for a moment longer. “I would like to see how Karasuno plays.”

The Omega nodded before walking away, picking her way through the crowds. Behind her, Ushijima was stopped left and right by reporters congratulating him on his win, asking him questions about U19 and his expectations for his post-graduate life. (Name) ignored it, easily finding herself beside the crowd of teal, picking a spot near the railing as she eagerly watched her mate play. Satisfaction filled her - it had been too long since she was able to support him. Peeling off her Shiratorizawa jacket and shoving that into her duffel, she switched into her teal Aoba Johsai jacket - thankful that she was wearing black leggings instead of the maroon track-suit she typically would have to wear. 

Brown eyes looked up into the crowd, easily finding hers. (Name) cupped her mouth, cheering loudly for her pack-mates who glanced up at her during their time-out. Mattsun gave her a lopsided grin along with a cheeky wave. The underclassmen all waved, giving her various thumbs-up and nods. Oikawa had his eyes closed, sitting apart from his packmates in order to retain his focus. Iwaizumi nodded at her, not showing any sign of emotion but she could tell. Love, appreciation, and gratitude pulsed through her body. (Name) cheekily sent him a flying kiss, causing the male to roll his eyes at her though his heart fluttered at the sight. The whistle blew, ending the time out and the match continued.

******

(Name)’s jaw dropped as she leaned over the railing - watching in shock as the ball bounced. The whistle blew and she was gone, racing down the stairs towards the court. How did they get better so quickly? Her heart ached, knowing how badly her pack-mates wanted this. Her mark pulsed with anguish, causing her footsteps to quicken. She ducked into the court, ignoring the signs and ignoring the people as she launched herself into Iwaizumi’s arms. He buried his face into her hair, shoulders shaking slightly. The hot droplets splashed down and soaked her shirt. 

Loud slaps hit his back as he lurched in her grip - the scents of his pack-mates washing over them. “Go greet the audience,” she murmured. “I’ll be with the coaches.”

Iwaizumi’s grip tightened over her, squeezing her almost painfully as reluctance filled his senses. He didn’t want to lose himself when they separated - needing her to ground himself. (Name) pressed a dainty kiss to his cheek, scenting him slightly. “You’ll be okay,” she cooed into his ear before she stepped away. Iwaizumi nodded, fists clenching as he made his way to stand along the rest of his team - his mate slipping away to stand beside the coaches. 

“Thank you!” The boys chirped in varying degrees of emotional turmoil - bowing to the audience members. As soon as he had straightened up, she was right beside him once more. Her hands clasped over Iwaizumi’s as they made their way off of the court, squeezing it tightly as their fingers intertwined. Her thumb swirled around the crescent-moons he’d absent-mindedly left on his palms. 

Iwaizumi blinked furiously, looking down at his mate who kept her face neutral and forward. He was thankful for her - for her calmness. His own emotions ran rampant, making it difficult for him to steady himself as he plopped along beside her. She had been beside him through every single victory, through every single loss. Love blurred his eyes as he pulled her closer, squeezing back. (Name) leaned her body into his, subtly scenting him while they walked. 

“I love you,” he murmured for her ears only. 

“And I love you.” 

She pressed her plush lips against his knuckles, their marks pulsing with warmth and affection. (Name) shifted, looking back to the rest of her packmates just as another third-year threw himself at Iwaizumi, dragging him away from her grasp. Her heart leapt as she looked at their interaction, a small smile on her face. 

The Omega went towards the first-years, standing beside Kumini and Kindaichi. “You did well.”

Kindaichi jumped, a shiver running down his spine. “I didn’t know you were here, (Name)-san.”

“Of course, how could I miss my boys' play?” She teased, sadness and pity in her eyes as the sorrow in Kindaichi’s eyes. 

He shrugged, averting his eyes and staring at his sneakers. 

“C’mon, let’s go get ramen! Oikawa’s treat,” (Name) announced, turning to face the rest of her pack.

“Hey!” Oikawa protested, frowning.

“You missed your serves,” Makki teased, his face lightening up. He knew what (Name) was doing. Typically whenever the team faced a loss, the Omega would host dinner at the apartment and she would invite the rest of the pack over to make sure they were well-fed and resting instead of punishing themselves.

Kyotani blew past the pack, storming off in the direction of the gym doors. (Name) made a move to go after him, knowing that he wasn’t used to playing in tournaments like the rest of the pack was when a hand grabbed her shoulder. “Let him go.” She looked back, staring into Mattsun’s hooded eyes. “We all cope differently.” 

She frowned but nodded. “Let’s go then, yeah?” 

(Name) linked arms with Mattsun and Makki, leading the duo towards the doors of the stadium as the rest of the pack trickled on behind them. Iwaizumi walked with Oikawa, making up the rear as everybody else followed. 

Upon entering the restaurant, (Name) sat down at the table, offering the seat to Kindaichi and Kumini who slid in. Iwaizumi and Mattsun occupied the other seats beside her, Iwaizumi resting his chin on her shoulder as he took the time to breathe in her soothing scent. All throughout the meal, (Name) was ordering them food, ensuring that they were eating and drinking water as she helped keep their minds off of their woes. She constantly reminded them of how well they had played, mentioning things she noticed that had changed from the first time she’d seen them play until now. When Kindaichi started crying, she scooted closer, letting the male cry into her shoulder as she kept offering him napkins in order to wipe his streaming nose. Iwaizumi watched, resting his head on his palm as exhaustion washed over his entire body. He kept fading in and out mentally, too tired to even think about what had happened as the realisation of the loss really settled. 

This wouldn’t be the end, not for him. 

Not by a long-shot. 

*****

“Haji?” 

The Omega asked hesitantly as he unlocked the door to their apartment. She had returned first, letting Iwaizumi and the rest of the third years play together one last time at the Seijoh gym as she made her way home. (Name) knew that they needed this last chance to themselves.

Iwaizumi stood in the doorway, glossy eyes staring out. (Name) could only imagine the thoughts, the self-doubt that coursed through Iwaizumi’s head and veins. Sorrow pulsed through their shared marks, causing tears to well up in her own eyes at the borrowed emotion.

Silently she took Iwaizumi’s hand, tugging him towards the bedroom. (Name) pushed Iwaizumi to sit down on the edge of the bed, tugging on his shirt so that he could change. They could shower and change the sheets tomorrow. Now, she needed to comfort her mate. As she stood next to him, her arms draped over his arms, Iwaizumi turned to bury his face into her stomach. Hot tears mixed with sweat as it dripped down his face.

“I couldn’t do it,” he muttered. Her heart clenched. “How could I be an ace if I couldn’t even score that last point for my team?” 

“Haji-”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be with me,” he whines softly, the sound breaking both of their hearts. “Maybe you do deserve to be with Ushijima instead of me.”

“Don’t say that.” 

“Why not?” 

He leaned up, his dark brown eyes meeting hers. The silvery streaks of tears cascading down his face. 

“You deserve to be with a real Alpha. Not someone who-”

“I want to be with you. I deserve to be with my bond-mate,” (Name) said firmly as she pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. The salt of his sweat filling her senses as his pine scent dampened. “And my bond-mate deserves to be happy. Who was it that said that being good in volleyball meant having six strong players? You’re a strong player, Haji.” 

“But I-”

“You did your absolute best and there’s nothing more you could do about it.” 

As the Omega held Iwaizumi closer, his shoulders began to shake. 

“C’mon, let’s get some rest, okay?” 

Iwaizumi buried his face into his arms, curling into himself. (Name) frowned slightly, taking a seat beside him and wiggling into his arms. He tightened his grip around her shoulders, but refused to look at her. “Hey, you can’t get rid of me so quickly,” she murmured softly. 

“Who said I was trying to get rid of you? You’d probably get rid of me first.”

“Hajime.”

He flinched at the sudden use of his full name, peeling his face away from his arms and looking at her. “Who am I bonded to?”

Iwaizumi swallowed. “Me.”

“You know what that means right?”

“That you’re my mate.”

“And how long will you be my mate for?”

“Always.” He replied softly, unshed tears finally spilling as he buried his face into her hair, holding her face close to his chest. 

“That’s right.” (Name) gently covered his chest with kisses, her arms tightening around him. “And I’m yours, for now and always, okay?” 

“I love you, (Name).”

“And I love you, Haji.”

*****

“Stay close, we don’t want to lose you.”

“Yeah, not again,” Semi snickered beside her, throwing his arm around her. 

(Name) rolled her eyes, shoving his arm off. “That was your own damn fault, Semi. You should’ve told them where I went.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

The pack filed into the gym, Ushijima leading the way. It appears like Karasuno had arrived first. Her eyes scanned them. They were definitely a bunch of misfits. But these were the boys who had knocked her mate out of the running? Stolen his last chance to go to nationals? Anger flashed through her, disappearing as quickly as it had come. (Name) shook her head. As much as she knew that Iwaizumi hated Shiratorizawa and probably disliked Karasuno for beating them, perhaps Karasuno would be a sharp wake-up call for everyone. 

“They beat Seijoh?” Semi asked, standing beside her and looking over her shoulder as they examined them. They both blinked in shock as the orange ball of energy leapt into the air, slamming a sharp spike straight down. 

“This is going to be an interesting match,” she muttered, meeting Semi’s brown eyes.

He shrugged. “We’ll overcome them. We always do.” 

“Didn’t you lose at nationals?”

“Hey! Players at nationals are very different,” Semi protested.��

She chuckled, patting his chest. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Semi-Semi.” 

The male opened his mouth to protest only for Washijo to summon them. ‘We’ll talk about this later,’ he mouthed to her as he joined the rest of the pack.

*****

They shouldn’t have underestimated them. 

All throughout the match, she couldn’t help but be impressed by Karasuno’s sheer tenacity, the amount of dedication and pressure that they had placed on the Shiratorizawa pack. It was clear that they had managed to rile up even Tendou, which was difficult to do to begin with.

“I hate them,” Tendou growled, glaring over at the Karasuno pack as they rested. He sat on the bench with (Name), leaning his head against her shoulder. She patted his head affectionately, silently agreeing. Ushijima drank water, resting his legs as he tried to keep his focus.

“You’re doing well, all of you,” (Name) soothed. “Don’t let them rile your feathers up, okay?” 

“Just need to break their hearts,” Tendou muttered. “Destroy them.” 

“You go do that, ‘Tori.” 

The whistle blew, sending them all back into their respective positions. The Omega stared at the scoreboard, frowning. Karasuno had many tricks up their sleeves, but ultimately this would become a game of endurance. As a team that’s reached Nationals so many times, it’d be easy for Shiratorizawa to beat them. She had to hold out hope that this would be the case. 

But of course, life loves to throw curve-balls as the fifth set dragged on longer and longer. Beside her, Washijo’s face was set into a deep frown. It was evident that he was deep in thought. 

“I always thought that strength would prevail over everything else. That’s how it’s always been and how it always will be.” Washijo’s fists clenched. “A team of Alphas is better than a misfit team with no clear strategies or strength.” 

(Name) jolted, startled at the sudden confession. She mused her thoughts carefully, the words heavy on her tongue. “Perhaps with the new generations, that will prove differently. We cannot always remain stuck in our ways otherwise we cannot progress as people, as a society.”

He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms as he stared at the court. “You’ve been a good influence on the team.” 

The Omega blinked, surprised at the sudden confession. She waited for more, until it was evident that he wouldn’t say more on the matter. She swallowed, nodding. “Thank you, Coach.”

Their eyes followed the ball as the long rally surprised them. (Name) chewed on her bottom lip, anticipation in her gut. Her eyes widened as the troublesome short middle-blocker blended in with his team-mates. Something was wrong, they won’t be able to catch it. Her heart was heavy as the whistle blew, the ball bouncing out of bounds after making contact with Hayato’s arms. Her shoulders slumped as shock ricocheted through her mark. Her head swiveled, staring at the ace as he panted. 

He was silent as he joined the rest of the pack, silent through the award ceremony as well though it wasn’t like he spoke much to begin with. If it wasn’t for her mark, she wouldn’t begin to know what the Apex Alpha was thinking. Pangs of shock, resignation, sorrow, and irritation through her body, yanking her emotions this way and that.

Tendou and Semi were more blatant with their feelings. Tendou practically latched onto her, laughing in that somewhat higher-pitched voice that alerted her to his internalised feelings. She let him, bringing him away to a hidden corner so that she could squeeze him in a tight hug, letting his body quake in her embrace.

Semi, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine. After all, the male was already forcibly torn away from his starting position, and even if he went to nationals again, it wasn’t like he would play much more on the court. There was more to life than volleyball, and he already had a taste for what came next. 

“Come check out this cafe,” he had told (Name), texting her a photo of a flyer. “I might be performing there.”

The Omega simply smiled, patting him on the head. “I’ll always support you, Semi. I’ll be there.” 

The group walked into the gym at the end of it all, passing the batons to the newer generations. (Name) stood silently to the side. There was no Omega to replace her. Not yet at least. That’ll be a problem for Shiratorizawa’s Omegas to figure out. All she could do was hope that her replacement would benefit the pack in ways she couldn’t possibly have done so. It’s not like she was around that much to begin with - having split priorities and the drama of the love triangle she had unknowingly been drawn into. Perhaps next year, their Omega would be solely dedicated to the pack like the pack deserved.  

*****

The Omega waited patiently, her maroon jacket folded over her arms as she watched them finishing up their reps. Members slowly trickled out until it was just her and one other person. Ushijima, the Alpha and former captain, was the last one of the pack, doing extra reps as he waited for all members to complete their reps. 

“Wakatoshi.”

Ushijima grunted, eyes locked onto the opposite court as he prepared for another serve. “Let’s go get food.”

He blinked, muscles freezing up before olive eyes landed on her. (Name) stared at him, face unwavering. 

“Food, Toshi. You need it to fuel your body, or have you forgotten in your haste to better yourself overnight?” 

Ushijima stood from his semi-crouched position, tilting his head. “I do not think I will get better overnight.”

(Name) chuckled, shaking her head. “Is that all you got?” She shrugged on her jacket. “C’mon, let’s go eat. I’m hungry.”

“Okay.” 

The duo made quick work of cleaning the gym, ensuring that everything was right while they left. They made their way to the dorms, bringing the Omega into the kitchen as she hummed slightly, bustling around to gather ingredients. 

“Think you have enough brain-power left to teach me that hayashi rice?”

The slightest flicker of amusement and happiness filled Ushijima’s expression. “Of course.” 

He stood beside her, helping her prepare the ingredients as the low rumble of his voice filled the stagnant air of the kitchen. Beside his gentle instructions, not much was exchanged between the two, even while they were eating. A silence hung in the air, stiff. It wasn’t awkward though, which Ushijima appreciated. As a man of few words, he knew that his quiet nature often made people uncomfortable. 

He finished washing the dishes, eyes narrowed in on the task as (Name) cleaned the rest of their mess. Ushijima cleared his throat, drawing her (e/c) orbs to him. “I will walk you off-campus.” Ushijima swallowed, a bitter taste in his mouth. “Will Iwaizumi pick you up?”

She hummed, nodding. “He will, in a bit.” (Name) chewed on her bottom lip. “Let’s talk before I leave though. Is that alright?” 

He nodded as they sat down at a stone bench near the track field. A heavy silence settled over them, suffocating as the weight of her words hit him. Even the wind became quiet, as if the world was holding its breath. Ushijima had known that this was coming, but he wasn’t prepared. Not so soon after the defeat he had faced earlier that day. 

“Wakatoshi.”

Ushijima swallowed. “Yes?” 

“This may be poor timing, but I think I’ve made my decision.”

Ushijima took a sharp breath of air. “I see.”

(Name) looked up into the sky, nails digging into her palms. “I think that…”

BONUS

“I’m going to go fill the water-bottles. I’ll meet you guys there!” (Name) said to Semi, who just shrugged and waved her off. He was on his phone, replying to his parents to let them know that he had arrived at the stadium. The rest of Shiratorizawa had already dispersed. Semi and (Name) had arrived late due to picking up the bentos for their lunch. 

The Omega walked off with a spring in her step, humming to whatever song she was listening to. 

“Where is (Name)?” Ushijima asked, looking at Semi. 

Semi looked up at his phone, tilting his head. “She’s right-” he turned, pointing at the empty space where she’d just occupied. “Oh fuck.”

“How did you lose Omega-chan?” Tendou asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Ushijima’s jaw clenched, swallowing his frustration. As Captain, he had interviews to attend to which is why he had entrusted (Name) to Semi. “When’d you last see her?”

Semi hesitated, thinking hard. “She was literally just here.” 

They all sniffed the air, searching for her scent. Unfortunately, there were too many Alphas present for them to really discern her scent. 

“At least you have the food,” Tendou commented, looking at the bags at Semi’s feet. “Where could she possibly have gone?”

“Well, she is a manager. Maybe some manager stuff?’

Ushijima turned, walking towards the fountains. He let out a sigh of relief when he spotted her amongst the other managers. “(Name).”

“Oh! Ushijima-san. Have you finished your interviews?” She asked, turning away from the other manager she was talking with to give him a smile. 

“Why didn’t you tell us where you were going?”

(Name) raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “What do you mean? I told Semi.”

“Next time, let us know in the group-chat. We don’t want to lose you.”

“Uhh, okay. Whatever you say, Ushijima-san.” She turned back to the water bottles. 

“Can I help you?” Ushijima asked, stepping closer to her. He threw a look at the other managers, scaring off the Omegas and causing the Alpha managers to puff out their chest in an attempt to stand up for themselves.

“You don’t have to! I’m just about finished.” She flashed him another smile before turning back to the managers. “It was nice to meet you all! Best of luck.”

“Bye (Name)!” 

Pouting slightly, Ushijima wrapped his arm around the Omega as he took a tray of bottles in his other hand. 

Next time, he’d just bring her with him, he promised himself.

*****

“So, will you stay?” Oikawa asked, crossing his arms as he looked between them. The third years were at a local cafe, meeting up a few days after the tournament. 

Makki snorted, rolling his eyes. “Aren’t you the one leaving us?” 

“Yeah, we don’t need a head Alpha who will be in a whole different country,” Mattsun teased. 

“Hey!” Oikawa protested. “This is my dream.” He swallowed, a bitter taste in his mouth. “You’re my family, and I don’t want to lose you. No matter where in the world I’ll be.”

“Who said we’re leaving you?” Iwaizumi piped up, leaning back as he raised his eyebrow at them. “You’ve been a pain in my ass ever since we met, Oikawa, and I plan on returning that for the rest of your miserable life.” 

Oikawa opened his mouth to protest only to have arms wrap around his shoulders from behind. “Yeah, Oiks. You’re an integral part of this pack and you’re stuck with us, alright?” The soft strawberry met his nose as the warmth of her touch filled his body. 

His lip trembled as tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Awh, we made him cry,” Makki snickered, covering his mouth slightly with his palm.

“I-I’m not crying!” Oikawa protested, aggressively wiping his tears away only to have (Name) tighten her grip on him.

“You big baby,” she teased, grabbing a stack of napkins from the table and dropping it in front of him. She peeled herself off of him before plopping down at the seat beside Iwaizumi. “So, does that mean Haji is the new head Alpha?” She blinked innocently at them before they all exploded into an argument. The Omega only giggled, leaning into her mate as she watched in satisfaction at the chaos she had caused.

*****

“So what now?” Semi asked, sipping from his tea as they sat in the cafeteria together. “Are we just gonna say farewell and go our separate ways after graduation.”

Ushijima paused, looking up from his food. “I do not wish to lose our friendship.”

“Awh, are we your friends, Wakatoshi-kun? Are you going soft on us now?” Tendou joked, nudging the male in the stomach. “You know you’re my best friend already!”

Ushijima blinked stoically. “I would like to remain in a pack with you all, if that is alright.” 

They stared at each other before looking back at Ushijima. “Aren’t you going into volleyball professionally, Wakatoshi?” 

“Yes and?”

“That means we’re going our separate ways anyways,” Hayato pointed out, brows furrowed.

“Distance does not mean that we cannot remain pack-mates though.” Ushijima frowned. “Is that not something you all want?”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Tendou protested, waving his hand. “It’s just that, we’ll be separated by our own journeys. Are you sure this is the pack you want to stay in? I’m sure you’ll have pack offers in whatever team you end up joining.”

He blinked. “You are my family. I do not want anyone else.”

“You’re going to make me cry, Wakatoshi-kun.” 

“Don’t!” Hayato protested, frowning. “If you cry, I might end up crying too.”

“So are you all going to bawl like babies or can I ask the Captain something?” Shirabu folded his arms, appearing behind Semi’s shoulder.

“Shut up Shirabu.”

*****

FUN FACTS 

💟 Coach Saito always supported (Name) whenever it came to Seijoh. He knew how difficult it had been to be an Omega with Shiratorizawa - especially with how Washijo typically mistreated Omegas in general

💟 Ushijima watched from the stands as (Name) embraced Iwaizumi after his loss to Karasuno before slipping away and being stopped by the news station for an interview

💟 To this day, (Name) has deep respect for the Karasuno pack members - especially considering how well they performed at the tournament

💟 That day was the first time that a majority of Seijoh had seen Iwaizumi cry. Only the third years had seen that sight before that moment

💟 After the tournament had completely concluded, Kyotani reached out to (Name) and Iwaizumi and ended up crashing at their apartment for a night in order to talk out his aggressive tendencies to resolve them for next year

💟 If it wasn’t for (Name), Iwaizumi could have potentially sunk into an Alpha depression - which is extremely rare 

💟 Semi was confident in the ability of his pack-mates, even if they didn’t necessarily believe in him as a setter anymore

💟 A week after the tournament, (Name) hung-out with Tendou and kept him company as he made chocolates. This gave him the perfect opportunity to talk about his future and how he felt at the conclusion of the tournament

💟 Washijo did feel slightly guilty about the whole situation with the Omega, and vowed to himself at that game to do better in the future

💟 Teaching (Name) how to make hayashi rice gave Ushijima a lot of hope, and made his mood a lot better. He hadn’t realised it himself, but food was his ideal method for comfort

💟 They had lost (Name) at the beginning of the Interhigh tournament months ago

💟 The group decided that both Iwaizumi and Oikawa would be the head Alphas of the pack, though they typically still ran it as a democracy 

💟 The other third-years ended up crying when they were finally alone. They each had their own misgivings about the state of their pack and relationships with one another once they graduated, but Ushijima had eased their worries without even really trying    

AN: So... we’re almost at the end. Who are we feeling? Iwa? Ushi? Are y’all ready for next week’s chapter? 

Taglist: @sawamooora​  @kriswu46​ @pantasticalcat​ @shadowkunoichi​ @awuariyuh​ @4lfalfagarlic​ @kuroowh0r3 @sourapplex​ @pastelpuffbar​​ @froyopet​​ @micheleinumaki​​ @gywjd0131​​ @aideen00 @loudpoetry23 @kaizumi​​ @chrisrue15​​@aideen00 @Mayor-chu-of-many-towns @ ephemeralninon @kinkymint  @dabilove27​​ @sol-demure​​ @dark-mermaid25​​ @otaku-explosion​​ @fake-id-69 @zlatanakermann​​ @killuaking​​ @hxsxxk-180294​​  @uwukris​​ @cheerysparkle​​ @seiijixcia​​ @tsumue​​ @shoyomeow​​ @vicassa​​ @newfriendjen​​ @jubilee40​​  @kiritokunuwu​​  @cuddlesslut​​ @terminallyvolatile​​ @indecisivehusky​​ @kaitycole​​ @bioticbarbie @reaper-chan666​​ @ash-aph​​​ @aruhappy​​ @fortunatelylazystranger​​ 

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[themusicplayedherlife]

Unrequited (Part 5)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader characters: bucky barnes, reader, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, tony stark, pietro maximoff, crystal amaquelin, clint barton, sam wilson, sharon carter,  word count: 7k+ warnings: curse words, flirty bucky, flirty tony, angst, sad friends summary: things are changing and its startng to get hard to keep up a/n: hi, welcome to the slowest update and slowest burn story ever, but its here now--and let me tell you, this chapter is NOT how i planned... still like the outcome and really, it just means that the next ch is going to be just as long (im also looking for someone to beta future chapters ;o; so if youre interested, lemme know)

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“Natasha?” you call out, entering the eerily quiet apartment. The lights are off, the television quiet and dark, everything you used for breakfast is still in the sink, none of it put away—she hates seeing a full sink, but hates washing dishes in the morning even more, preferring to do them when she gets home when it’s her turn.

You call out for her again, your footsteps echoing as you make your way to her bedroom. Knocking, you wait for a beat before opening the door, and just like the rest of your shared home, her room is dark—even the neon lights she likes leaving on occasionally are turned off. 

Where could she be?

There’s a note on the island counter that has you frowning—Out for the day. It reads in Natasha’s cursive writing. I’ll be home for dinner.

You don’t share any classes with Natasha, today. In fact, you don’t have any classes Tuesdays, something you’re grateful for because having classes everyday last year really stressed you out, and while you’re still stressed having three classes on three days of the week, you have more days to relax and study if need be. 

Your free days also give you the chance to spend time with Natasha, something you both take seriously. Afterall, you made a promise to one another senior year of highschool that you’d always carve out a little bit of time for each other and that you’d always tell one another what was on your mind, never letting it fester.

It feels… weird knowing something is wrong and not knowing what it could be. But you just have to give her space and wait for her to tell you on her own, just as she gives you space when you need it.

Doesn’t mean you like it, though.

With a loud sigh, you leave your apartment.

You shoot him a quick text to let him know you’re here, and he replies by giving you the code for the building and his floor and apartment number. 

Seriously, Bucky? Why is he making you go up?

Grumbling, you take the elevator to the fourth floor and knock on his door, ready to rip him a new one for having you meet at his place rather than somewhere else when it opens to reveal… not Bucky?

Naked torso and bright blue eyes greet you, and widen in surprise as a small squeak escapes your lips. You try to ignore the heat clawing its way up your neck and to your face, desperately hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He says your name breathlessly and you return the gesture with another squeal, head lightheaded and you’re pretty sure it’s not healthy to have all your blood rush to your face like this.

“Steve!” You avert your eyes and focus on the wooden door and the gold numbers 404 instead of his pretty, hairless chest. But it’s kind of hard to keep your focus on something else when your eyes keep wanting to move his way! “Bucky told me to meet him here?”

As if he was waiting for his name, his head pops over Steve’s shoulder, a small smirk on his face—has it always been this punchable? Because your fingers are itching to clock him and wipe that smug look off of his face—that’s becoming a thing isn’t it?

“You’re finally here!” He pushes Steve aside and opens the door wide for you, ignoring the protests of his best friend. He latches onto your wrist, not allowing you a chance to look over the open spaced apartment and pulls you along with him towards the elevator. “I’m taking the car! And put a shirt on!”

You chance a glance over your shoulder to find Steve staring after you both with raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips. Fuck.

“What the hell, Bucky?” you ask as soon as you’re in the privacy of the elevator. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, pressing the button for B—basement you’re assuming.

“You’re welcome?” You repeat incredulously. “For what?”

“What do you mean for what? You got to see a shirtless Steve thanks to me!”

He has a point, the little voice in your head says, but you refuse to listen. Pursing your lips, you turn your eyes away to stare at the blinking numbers over the sliding doors. “I’m not thanking you for that.”

He pouts and it’s so uncharastically Bucky, or at least it's uncharacteristic for the Bucky you thought you knew, that it throws you off guard for a moment. You clear your throat and try to recover. “Come on! I did good! You saw a shirtless, Steve! What are the odds of that happening?”

“Literally none.” He grins at your deadpan words. “Still don’t appreciate it, Bucky! That was embarrassing, for him and me.”

He sighs, slouching back into the elevator wall like a little kid having been scolded for stealing a piece of chocolate. “Okay, I get it. I get it, no more tricking you into seeing a shirtless Steve.”

You resist the urge to sigh heavily at his words. “I hate you.”

He grins toothily.

You watch him as he smiles at the poor girl behind the register ringing him up for a pair of sunglasses. She ducks her head shyly, curling a lock of her hair behind her ear as does her best to quell the blushing on her cheek. 

He had told you to keep an eye on them, watch him as he tries to win over the cashier with his charm, but from where you’re standing? You’re not seeing shit.

He thanks her with another smile, taking his card that she hands back to him before making his way to you. 

You quickly look away when her eyes begin to drift from him to you.

“Did you see?” he asks as he settles into step with you to lead you to another store.

You nod and cock an eyebrow. “What exactly was I supposed to learn from that?”

He makes a face—nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed. “How easy it is to flirt?”

“I saw none of that,” you deadpan.

He sighs deeply as if completely disappointed in your lack of attention and you have to resist the urge to smack him and roll your eyes. “Did you not see how I—you know what. Never mind.” Before you can even question him, he continues on: “We’re not just here to teach you how to flirt, we’re also here because you need an outfit for the party. Two birds,” two fingers lift into the air and then one finger goes down, “one stone.”

You do a double take, blinking slowly and letting his words process. “I need an—no, I don’t!”

“Oh, yeah?” He raises an eyebrow as he opens the door. “What were you thinking about wearing, then?”

“I don’t know?” You reply indignantly. What exactly is he getting at? “Some jeans and a shirt? You know, like casual clothes.”

When you don’t make a move to enter, he grabs your arm and pulls you along with an eye roll. “That’d be fine for any other party, but this is a Stark party. People dress up to impress, and those that don’t, stick out like a sore thumb.”

Great.

“Come on, sourpuss.”

That’s rich coming from him.

But then again, he hasn’t been much of a sourpuss with you anymore has he? 

“What about this?” he asks, amusement laced in his words as he grins stupidly at you. In his hands is a short and skimpy dress that you would never wear out of fear of what you might accidentally end up flaunting.

A glare is all he gets as a response and he laughs loudly. “I’m joking!”

You miss sourpuss Bucky.

He has you searching the floor for something—anything, he deems acceptable for Stark’s party, but you honestly don’t understand why you can’t just wear casual clothes. And when you voice it, he keeps emphasizing the whole “sticking out like a sore thumb” bit. As if he knew you liked blending with the crowd rather than stand out. You relent, allowing him to help you pick something out, too, but you still don’t like the idea of dressing up for a College party.

A blue romper is suddenly shoved in your line of vision and you took a step back to follow the arm attached to the shimmery romper. “Pretty, right?”

You wrinkle your nose involuntarily. It is a pretty romper (better than the first one), with a low open back and a sweetheart neckline. You’d wear it, but it looks more suitable for clubbing than a college party.

“I think it’ll look good on you!”

You reluctantly grab it from his thrusting hand. “Isn’t it too much?” You check the tag. “Besides, not my size.”

“It’s perfect for Tony’s party,” he muses as he ushers you towards the rack where he found the romper, encouraging you to find your correct size. “And it’s actually pretty tame compared to what you’ll see others wearing.”

“You know, you’ve been really making me dread going to this party,” you grumble, pulling out a romper that’s in your size. “You keep making it sound like it’s the event of the year.”

He nudges you towards the changing rooms. “It might as well be. A lot of people look forward to his parties, use it as a chance to completely unwind without any rules binding them to the usual frat party rules.”

Which would make sense as to why Natasha is looking forward to it, especially when she seems to be stressed from outside factors.

“That still doesn’t make me feel better.”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop being a baby.”

The dressing room attendant allows you both in with a smile, pointing to a stall you may use, and you both thank her.

The music is a little louder in the dressing room area than it was on the floor, Dua Lipa’s New Rules blasting loudly, enough to make you drum your finger against the hanger.

“Besides,” he starts from the other side of the door. Through the crack, you can see him with his back turned towards you and waiting. “Going to this party will be your chance to open flirty dialogue with Steve, show him you’re actually interested in him.”

You take your time undressing. “None of what I’ve seen so far will help, Bucky. Smiling and touching someone isn’t flirting.”

“It will!” he assures you over the music. “It’s part of the basics on how to flirt.”

“Okay? But what else?” You were really hoping for more. He made teaching you how to flirt seem like such a big deal the other day. 

He doesn’t answer you.

“Bucky?” When he doesn’t answer again, you quickly scramble to put on the romper, not bothering to check yourself in the mirror. You call his name again. No answer. Again. “Are you—“ You open the door to your dressing room and to your surprise, Bucky is still standing outside of your dressing room, closer to the one next to yours. “Why weren’t you answering?”

He leans against the door with his shoulder, hands in his pockets and stormy eyes meet yours when you poke your head out. “Well? Aren’t you gonna show me?” Your forehead creases as your eyebrows curve inward. He motions to the side with his head as if asking you to step out. 

With a reluctant step, you come out of hiding, showing him the outfit with a ducked head.

His eyes sweep over you and his hands come out of his pockets, a lopsided grin appearing on his lips. “Wow—you look—you look great, doll.” 

Doll? You don’t question it even though you’re curious about the sudden pet name, besides, you’re a little flustered at the genuinity in his voice “You think so?”

“It’s gonna be hard for anyone to look away from you,” he says, eyes twinkling with some kind of emotion that you can’t read. Mischief, maybe?

You pause, the heat that had been gathering in your cheeks suddenly cools as the hair on your arms stand awkwardly. You can’t help the small shiver that runs down your spine, or the small noise of disgruntlement that escapes your lips. What was wrong with him? “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, reaching for a lock of your hair and you jerked away. 

Your eyes narrow as you watch the smile on his face grow, but soon they widen as the realization hit you. “Are you—are you trying to flirt with me?”

His smile drops and it’s your turn for your smile to grow, a laugh escaping your lips. His lips form a pout and he groans. “Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny. I’m teaching you how to flirt!”

“By giving me chills?”

He leans away from you, in shock that you’d think he’d ever do such a thing! “I did not give you chills!”

“You did!” you assert as you lift your arm to show him the bumps and awkwardly standing arm hair.

“There’s no way I caused that!”

You shove your arm further into his direction. “You totally did!”

He stares at you unblinkingly, your words processing in his head and taking in your form, until finally, he groans loudly, gaining the attention of the attendant. “But my flirting has never failed!”

You laugh, stepping away from him. “Well, your mom did say you seem to be under a dry spell.”

“Hey!” He sputters. “Just get changed!”

You shake your head with a smile and head back into the changing room to change out of the romper and back into your regular clothes.

After paying for the romper and walking around aimlessly, you two find yourself at the food court sitting across from one another with ice creams in hand. 

“Since—apparently—showing you wasn't the best way to reach you how to flirt, telling you might be,” he says after a spoonful of his strawberry cheesecake ice cream. “Flirting isn’t rocket science, doll. Everyone can do it.”

“Not everyone.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Flirting is all about conversation and being confident while doing it,” he says, straightening his back. “A lot of people have this… idea, that you have to be coy and charming to flirt, but you don’t have to be. Sometimes it’s all about compliments, other times it’s about subtle touching, or most of the time—both.”

You close your lips around your spoon, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Try it on me.”

Your spoon almost drops from your hands at his words. “What?”

“Try flirting with me.”

“Bucky—“

“You’ve seen me flirt twice—“

“I learned nothing from either time.” 

He blatantly ignores you and you can’t help but laugh under your breath. “So, you have an idea of what you should do when flirting with someone.”

“I don’t know—“

“Just compliment me, talk to me, reach for my hand or something.” He smiles. “You’ve got this.”

You take a deep breath and finally relent. Placing your spoon back into the cup with your melting ice cream, your eyes meet his expectant gaze.

Sweeping over his eager gaze, your eyes fall on the red beaded bracelet wrapped around his wrist. It’s homemade, a little worn out by the look of the scratches on some of the beads. But it’s cute, reminds you of something you would’ve made when you were in middle school for Natasha, or something your younger brother would’ve made for you. Did one of his sisters make it for him? Shyly, and nervously, you reach for the beaded bracelet, gently running your index finger over the small beads. 

“I like your bracelet.”

“Yeah?” He asks with a wide grin, stormy eyes watching you carefully and you can’t help the heat licking at your skin—god, this is embarrassing!

“Yeah, it’s cute… looks good on you,” you mutter, hooking a finger under the bracelet and flashing your eyes up at him from under your lashes, still feeling hot and embarrassed, and if you cry, holy shit you’re going to die. You can’t even read Bucky’s expression, there’s a smile on his face but his eyes are pretty neutral. Fuck. What if you’re messing up? What if you’re only making a fool out of yourself? “No!” You gasp softly, extracting your finger from his bracelet and covering your face with both hands. “No, I can’t do it!”

“Come on,” he drawls and gently takes hold of your wrists to coax your hands away from your face. “You were doing great!”

You let him pull down your hands and purse your lips, not completely believing him, but he sounds genuine enough. “Was I really?” 

“Yes, you were!” he says, patting your hands in his. “You complimented something on me and me, found an excuse to touch me and kept eye contact for most of it! That’s pretty fucking amazing.”

You slip your hands from his to cup your jaw and groan. “I wish I could believe you.”

“All you really had to do was ask questions, prolong the conversation, make me think you’re interested in knowing more about me,” he advises softly. “If you do something similar like this to Steve? He’ll be putty in your hands.”

Giddiness bubbles in your stomach as you think of Steve flirting back, but… “But what if I get too nervous? Or fail?”

“Then you breathe, remind yourself you’re having a conversation to get to know him outside of what you already do know.” He waits for a beat, eyes searching your face for a moment and sighs. “Some people like to lay it on thick with the charm because that’s what they’re good at. You? You’re just… you. Doe-eyed, a little awkward, more than a little blunt sometimes. So use that to your advantage.”

You don’t fully believe him, but he sounds so sure of himself that you can’t help but agree to try it. “All right. Okay, I’ll do my best.” 

“That’s all you need.” He grins and tilts his head towards one of the many entrances of the mall. “Want to head home?”

You look down at the ice cream pooling in your cup and decide to throw it out along with Bucky’s empty cup. “Mind if I check out the Disney store before we go?”

He remains seated, thanking you as you take his trash with yours. “Was afraid you wouldn’t ask.”

Throwing the two cups, you look at Bucky over your shoulder, ignoring the family of four that cuts between you to occupy a table. “You like Disney?”

He scoffs, offended that you even thought of asking such a heinous question. “Of course, I do.”

You shrug, laughing under your breath as you wipe the imaginary dust from your hands. “Most guys hide their affinity for Disney.”

Without thinking much of it, Bucky grabs the bag carrying your romper from the empty chair. When you make a grab for it, he tells you he’s got it and begins to lead you towards the Disney store. You follow after him, thankful. “I’m not most guys,” he quips back. “But… uh… does Natasha not like guys that like Disney?”

You blink, processing his shy inquiry and then throw your head back in laughter. 

“Hey! It’s a legit question, if she doesn’t—“

You fall into step with him, smothering your laughter with the back of your hand. “What? Are you going to hide your love for the mouse from her if she doesn’t?”

“Maybe?”

You roll your eyes. “I suggest you don’t, Bucky. Natasha… she likes authenticity.” He knows this! But he’s really gung-ho on changing himself for her, isn’t he?

“It’s not like I’m going to lie about it! I’ll just be… omitting the truth.”

“That is lying,” you say with a bit of whine and drawl in your voice. “Lying by omission.”

 “Whatever gets her attention.” His lips turn down and his eyes sweep down at you with a semi glazed look before staring forward. “That’s the whole point of this, right? Getting their attention?”

You try to hide the wince and find that you can’t bring yourself to refute him.

Your eyes meet your own in your mirror’s reflection, and with a deep breath, you leave your bedroom.

Natasha is on her phone, fingers tapping away at the screen barely acknowledging you other than a, “Finally!”

“Sorry,” you start as you make a beeline to the fridge for water. “I’m just a little unsure of what I’m wearing.”

She looks up, twisting in her seat to take a look at you and she lets out a strange noise that sounds akin to excitement. “Where have you been hiding this little number?”

You purse your lips. “It’s okay?”

“Are you kidding me?” She stands and makes her way over to you, smirking wickedly, hand to her chest as she buckles her knees. “I am in love!”

You gently push her away and she cackles. “God, you’re so weird.”

“You love me!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Pietro: bruh, i am in awe

Pietro: i shit you not, you’re going to be fucking blown away when you guys get here

You: His place that nice?

Pietro: what do you think?

Attached to the message is a picture of Pietro making a face at a large chocolate fountain in the middle of who knows where and you honestly can’t believe it. You really fucking can’t. Who fucking owns a chocolate fountain other than a fictional character?

“Are you seeing this?” you ask Natasha, who sits beside you in the moving taxi, staring incredulously at your phone screen as you receive another message from Pietro, but this time of him sticking a marshmallow into the fountain with a stick.

She hums. “Seeing what?”

“What Pietro just sent—group chat?”

“Oh,” she says. “No.”

Sighing, you put away your phone, ignoring the incoming text from Pietro most likely asking how far away you are. “Who do you keep texting?”

“Huh?” She looks up at you after a moment of silence. “Oh, a friend—hey, you don’t mind if I invited them to tag along, right?”

A friend? You try to keep yourself from frowning, keeping a more neutral, curious expression. “I don’t mind, but, who did you invite?” You’re pretty sure you know everyone she knows or at least know of the people she deems worthy enough to call friends—which aren’t many (and are literally the same people you call friends).

“He’s one of the guards at the center,” she says, returning her attention to her phone, a smile appearing on her lips as she types out another message. “I had trouble on the first day and he helped me.”

“Wait, you had trouble?” Why didn’t she tell you that? She had only mentioned that it went well, but the kids could be a bit too much if she wasn’t stern enough.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Yeah, got lost. Not a big deal.”

She got lost and made a friend on her first day and it’s no big deal? “Right.”

She raises her head to look at you once more, eyebrow cocked and ready to say or ask something, but the driver pulling up slowly and saying, “Here we are,” distracts you both, stealing your attention for a moment and making you both glance out the window.

“Wow,” is all you can manage to say as you stare up at the modern home—mansion, really—as you push open the car door to step out, Natasha right behind you. You knew Tony was rich, but this, this is crazy rich.

The chocolate fountain now makes sense.

You both thank your driver and the man nods, wishing you both a fun night before driving off.

“And I thought your parent’s home was big,” you tell Natasha.

She chuckles, clapping your back before beginning to lead you towards the main entrance and closer to the loud music playing indoors. “Pietro and Crystal are already here, right?”

“Yep. They might be by the chocolate fountain, wherever that is.”

“Cool, I’m going to look for my friend,” she says, pushing open the door and allowing the music to escape from the enclosed space—“Meet you there?”

She’s seriously not thinking of leaving you—oh my god, she is. She’s really leaving you!

Before you can even begin to protest, she’s become one with the sea of bodies occupying the open space and you can no longer see your friend among the masses.

Great. Now what?

You frown and when a person knocks into you by accident, giving you a hasty apology as they keep moving, you can’t help but sigh. Why did you even decide to come?

You pull out your phone and read the message Pietro sent you earlier, and reply telling him that you’ve arrived. In a matter of seconds, you receive a message from him saying he’s still by the chocolate fountain and to hurry the fuck up.

Well, at least you still have Pietro. 

Just as you’re about to put your phone away, it vibrates with a text notification, your text tone completely drowned out by the music.

James Bucky: How’s the party?

You: Just got here

James Bucky: Barely?

The music is loud around you as you push through the crowd, people not really caring if you bump into them, all of them in their own little world as the bass reverberates through their bones. 

You: Wasnt super keen on the romper.

You: Jumped around a lot of outfits

James Bucky: But I thought you looked great! 

James Bucky: You ARE wearing it, right?

You: yes, zazu gosh

James Bucky: wait

James Bucky: Zazu from the Lion King?

James Bucky: are you calling me an overbearing bird?

You: 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

You: if the shoe fits

James Bucky: listen, if I’m anyone from the movie, I’m Simba

You snort as you reply back: Sure you are

James Bucky: Rude!

James Bucky: Have you seen Steve, yet?

You: no. 

You: Looking for Pietro and his girlfriend first

James Bucky: All right

James Bucky: Guess I’ll let you go

James Bucky: just remember to relax! You’ve got this!

Yeah! You do got this!

Thanks, Bucky.

Your search for the fountain leads you outside to a small courtyard where it’s a little less crowded, but just as noisy with the music and talking. In the middle of it all is the glorious chocolate fountain and in front of it a long table of fruits and other assortments that could be dipped into the chocolate. 

“What do you think?” A voice suddenly says next to your ear and you can’t help but let out a surprised squeal as you jump around to face the culprit. “Cool right?”

“Tony! What the hell?”

He chuckles and looks you over, his eyes still obscured by his dark glasses. “You look good.” He sounds sincere enough, but you can’t help but raise your eyebrow in suspicion.

“Thanks?”

He grins. “You’re welcome.” He looks around you. “Came alone?”

“Ah, no, I came with Natasha, but she went searching for someone.”

“And you?” He asks, removing his eyewear and hooking it’s leg into the collar of his shirt. “You’re not searching for anyone?”

“I am…” you say, a little hesitant, unsure of what his question is meant to mean. “My friend Pietro.”

He tilts his head to the side. “You mean silver haired kid over there?”

You follow his line of vision, head twisting to look over your shoulder where Pietro and his girlfriend are sitting on a wooden bench, gorging on strawberries covered in chocolate. “Thanks.”

“Buckaroo didn’t come with you?” he asks, stopping you from making your way over to Pietro and Crystal.

“Uh, no. Said he didn’t feel like it.”

Tony snorts, he sounds a little bitter. “Of course, he did.”

Curious. “Did you want him to come?”

He presses his lips thinly, before smiling wickedly. “I’d like for someone else to come.”

“Seriously?”

He grins, head ducking and glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose, but he does nothing to stop them. “Sorry, bad joke.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Do you usually do that?”

He catches your gaze over the rim of his glasses. “What? Make bad jokes?” He shrugs. “Probably.”

“No,” you start slowly, pausing for a moment to search his eyes, study him as much as possible before he can grow offended by your next words, words that you probably wouldn’t say to a stranger and shouldn’t say to a stranger, but still do. “Do you usually deflect when someone goes into uncharted territory?”

He tenses, eyes narrowing and jaw clenching, it only lasts for a second, but you catch it. And that’s enough for you to know you’re right. He lets out a dramatic sigh and looks away from you, pushing his glasses back up. “Ah, and here I thought you’d be more fun than most of these people.”

You purse your lips, ready to retort, but before you can, a hand lands on your shoulder, pulling you away from Tony and to a muscular body—Pietro.

“Is he bothering you?” Pietro asks, eyes locked on to Tony, not even bothering to look down at you. It’s the big brother act.

“Pietro!” You scold him, pushing him away from you and  from confronting Tony. “It’s fine. We were just talking.”

“And now we’re not,” Tony announces, eyes moving from Pietro to you. “Have fun, gorgeous.”

“What was that about?” Pietro mutters, confused as you both stare after Tony. And you can’t help but watch as he joins a group, laughing and smiling with them for only a moment before moving on to the next one. Never staying in one place.

“I don’t know,” you admit, a small frown making a home on your features.

You can never truly tell what the hell is going on with Pietro and Crystal. One moment they’re both laughing and having the time of their life and the next they’re arguing about the little things—this time the little thing being, well, you.

You’ve always known that Crystal wasn’t and isn’t particularly fond of you and Natasha, sometimes seeing both of you as some kind of threat or rivals for Pietro’s love, but you and Natasha usually pay her no mind. This time, however, it’s a little hard to ignore them when she’s whining about the fact you’re third wheeling their date, forgetting the fact that you and Natasha had invited Pietro in the first place, and he had decided to bring his girlfriend along. 

Where’s Natasha when you need her?

Why did you decide to come anyway? Bucky wasn’t joking when he said a Stark party wasn’t a place for striking up conversation, yet somehow he encouraged you to come and said it would be the perfect opportunity to flirt with Steve. Who, by the way, you haven’t seen since you arrived! Granted, you haven’t moved from your spot in the courtyard, but you aren’t so sure going around specifically looking for Steve would be such a good idea. What if you do start dating Steve and you one day tell him that you frantically looked around for him at a Stark party, actively avoiding everyone just to be able to talk to him? He’d most likely freak and call you a freak, and you’d much rather avoid that.

“Then go,” you hear Pietro snap, pulling you from your rambling thoughts to look at him and Crystal, both of them practically in each other’s faces.

His blonde girlfriend with wide blue eyes falters, eyes drifting from him to you and back, and you watch as her bottom lip wobbles for dramatic effect before throwing her hands up in the air and pushing Pietro away from her. “Fine! I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party anyway!”

Pietro sighs heavily as she storms off.

“You sure letting her leave like that is a good idea?”

“Yeah,” he says through a grimace, falling back down onto the bench he and Crystal has been occupying. “It’s fine. We’ll work it out tomorrow. We always do.”

You have no doubt they’ll work it out, because he’s right, they always do. But you still can’t help but worry. How much more fighting and arguing can they take before they break? “Okay. Do you want me to get you a drink?”

He shakes his head and reaches for the red plastic cup by his feet. “I’m good, thank you.” He scoots over and pats the seat next to him. 

You flash him a small smile and drop yourself down next to him, taking the chocolate strawberry he offers you before pressing his own strawberry against yours and scarfing it down.

“What’s with the doom and gloom?” Natasha finally joins you, finding you and Pietro sitting on the wooden bench, gorging on chocolate covered fruit. “It’s a party!”

You and Pietro don’t bother reacting to her shimmy of the arms, you instead cock an eyebrow. “Did you find your friend?”

She nods, smiling, looking over her shoulder and making a come here motion with her hand—and who exactly she motions over isn’t who you were expecting.

Not only is it Steve, but it’s Steve. Handsome, blue eyes, pretty Steve, who flashes you a bright smile even after you’ve seen him half naked.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. Steve? Why would it be Steve? As far as you knew, Steve doesn’t work as a security guard. Not at campus, not at the accounting firm he’s interning, and definitely not at a recreational center! He would’ve mentioned it, right? You look at Natasha, but she’s not looking at you, and she’s not looking at Steve either, you note.

She’s looking at someone behind him, someone shorter with darker hair—dirtier, and darker blue eyes—“Clint?”

All eyes snap in your direction, but you pay them no mind, you’re completely transfixed by the man wearing a purple hoodie and acid wash jeans, who immediately recognizes you and smiles cheekily.

“You know each other?” Natasha asks and it's Clint who explains with a nod.

“She’s a regular at the museum, usually comes in during my shift.”

“Huh.” Natasha huffs out a breath. “Small world.”

Steve chuckles and that sound would usually cause your heart to flutter, but you’re currently very much in awe of the fact that Natasha has adopted Clint as her friend. “Guess that makes it easier with the introductions.”

“Uh, excuse you. I don’t know who he is. Hi, I’m Pietro. And you are?”

“Clint Barton, security guard extraordinaire.”

Natasha smiles in Clint’s direction and leans against him, surprisingly enough—which is putting it lightly. You’re more than surprised, you’re absolutely floored, Pietro is too because he turns to you with wide eyes and mouths “what the fuck?”

What the fuck indeed.

Natasha isn't the type to be so… hands on or touchy with strangers (well, then again, Clint isn’t exactly a stranger). It took months—half a year to be exact—for her to be comfortable with touching Pietro, and being touched by him. But here she is, having known Clint for a couple of weeks—BARELY—and is already using Clint as a resting post.

Yeah.

It’s official.

Bucky is screwed.

A Stark party is a sensitive overload, if you’re being honest. 

Here you are being rewarded with Steve looking mighty fine in a yellow button down and dark, regular jeans, but you’re somehow distracted by the way your best friend refuses to leave Clint’s side.  

She’s smiling, chuckling that soft, genuine chuckle of hers when he cracks a joke or tells a funny story. There’s a spark in her smile and eyes that you haven’t seen in such a long time—not since high school. 

You’re happy for her…. but…

This is going to hurt Bucky, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Steve’s warm voice reaches your ears and your body reacts without a minute to waste. Heat crawling up your neck as you practically rip your eyes from them to him.

“Steve, hey.”

“You look beautiful.” Your heart practically beats out of your chest, eyes widening at his sincere compliment and how he studies you with a warm gaze. It takes all of your energy to stay upright, even when the blood rushes to your head and your knees buckle.

He called you beautiful. Steve. Steve freaking Rogers!

Breathe and relax, doll. Flirting is simple conversation. Not an art. “Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, but still managing to be heard over the music if the tick of his lips is anything to go by. “You do too. Yellow is a good color on you.”

What? What kind of compliment is that?! Every color is a good color on Steve!

He chuckles, his eyes slipping down to the button down he’s wearing. “Thanks. This is actually Bucky’s. Told me I should wear it for tonight.” He fixes the collar of his shirt as the first button comes undone, and you can’t help but avert your gaze shyly. What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s just some skin, you dumbass! “You wouldn’t think so, but Bucky actually has an eye for picking out clothes,” he says fondly, proud of his best friend. “It’s one of his hidden talents.”

You return your gaze to him, but this time focus on his eyes, smiling when his own gaze meets yours. “I actually believe you. He helped pick out this romper for me.”

His eyes brows quirk upward. “Bucky did? Really?

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Did you say the wrong thing?

You almost grow worried when the silence between the two of you stretches for a moment longer until he smiles again, eyes softening. “I’m glad you’ve become Bucky’s friend.”

You’re not so sure you and Bucky ARE friends, especially not after he reiterated why you're both talking and helping eachother, but under Steve’s sincere gaze you can’t help the, “I’m glad too,” that slips from your lips. And you definitely don’t regret it when his smile widens.

“Ah, listen, I want to apologize about the other day,” he says, his cheeks red as he rubs the side of his neck and eyes drifting shyly off to the side. “I don’t usually open the door shirtless, but Bucky was hurrying me… and…”

Of course he was. God damn that Bucky! “No, no, it’s your home. You’re allowed to be comfortable. I’m sorry I was so awkward about it. I just--I have never seen that.” Steve’s eyes snap up in your direction and for a moment, you replay your words—have never seen that—what the hell is wrong with you? “I mean, I have. I definitely have seen a shirtless man before. Who hasn’t? I meant to say I have never seen you—you know what? I’m just going to shut up now.”

He blinks slowly and without warning he lets out a loud laugh that takes you off guard, but it fills your chest with warmth. You recognize this laugh; it’s his genuine laugh. The one that makes him throw his head back, hand clutching his chest, and laugh without any inhibitions. And you caused it. You.

You can’t help but chuckle along with him.

And when Steve finally calms down, he glances down at you with crescent eyes and a genuine smile. “You’re cute.”

Heat crawls to your neck and you can’t believe it’s possible to even get this hot and embarrassed. “Thank you?” you squeak.

This is good right? Steve across from you, drink in his hand and smiling down at you as if you’re the only people in the room. And you might as well be, because the music sounds so distant and Pietro’s laughter is muffled. 

This is your chance.

This is where you put a hand on his shoulder; lean into his space a little and flash him your doe eyes that Bucky mentioned. This is it! This is where you hint at your feelings, this is—

“Steve!”

Damn it, Sam! 

“Look who I found!”

The smile on his face drops and you can't help the way your body jerks when he mumbles the name, “Sharon,” so breathless.

You’re no longer the only two people in the room. The world spins and tilts, and it moves faster than you thought possible—all noise and music coming back to life and deafening you as Steve doesn’t spare you a glance to walk towards the beautiful blonde with kind brown eyes smiling at him.

You push through the crowd, needing to get away from whatever the fuck is going on inside. Steve barely even glanced at you after Sharon had appeared, which shouldn’t be surprising, really. His ex-girlfriend is beautiful and the two didn’t exactly break up on bad terms. They had decided that while she studied abroad at Cambridge for the year, it would be best for them to break up. 

So really, you should’ve known that the moment she would showed up, you wouldn’t have a chance.

Not like you had a chance before. But you had hoped with all of your heart that maybe you could have a chance.

You were wrong. Bucky was wrong.

The fresh, cool air hits you as soon as you’re out on the front porch, and you release an exhale.

“Tough night, gorgeous?”

Your eyes snap to Tony, who sits on one of the porch chairs, legs kicked up on the small rounded table, and a cigarette in his hands. “You could say that.”

Tony puts out the cigarette by smashing the tip into the ashtray by his feet.

“Why aren’t you inside playing host?”

A smirk lifts his lips. “Taking a break. Hosting is a lot of work.”

You snort. “I’m sure.”

“Why aren’t you inside?” You shrug and watch as he stands up and moves to the chair over, pointedly looking at the now empty one as if inviting you to sit with him. You do. “Saw you getting chummy with Steve earlier. Didn’t know you had it in you, gorgeous. Bucky and Steve?”

You freeze, eyes widening as you sputter. “What? Bucky and I are just friends and Steve… Steve… is just a friend too.”

He chuckles. “So not gaga over Buckaroo, but definitely deep in the feels for golden boy. Got it.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Sure it isn’t.” He grins, but there’s no malice in his teasing and for some strange reason, you don’t mind it.

The music is muffled, even with the loud volume it’s set on. But you can make out Ariana Grande’s voice as she sings thank u, next.

“So, were you rejected by golden boy? Is that why you’re out here?”

“Rejected would imply I had a chance.”

“Why wouldn’t you have a chance?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Sharon.”

“Ah, the ex girlfriend.” He tilts his head back against the headrest. “Is she back? I heard she was back. But you know how rumors are.” Is he alluding to himself? 

You watch him and he all does is lift his lips into a smirk that has you shaking your head. Best not to dwell on it. Turning away from him to pull out your phone, you notice you have messages from Bucky and Pietro, but you don’t read either of them, instead going into the Uber app to get a ride home. “Guess so.” 

He leans closer to you, peeking at your screen for a second before pulling back. “Ordering yourself a ride?”

You nod, watching as the screen changes when you confirm the addresses and the arrival time and map show up. In a couple of mins you’ll be on your way home. Thank god. “Yeah. I’m just—I’m just really tired.”

“Mind if I come with you?” he jokes, lopsided grin in his face.

You put your phone away once your ride is confirmed and find him no longer staring at you, but instead watching the empty streets, the occasional night drifter passing by. “For someone who likes throwing parties, you don’t seem to like being in yours.”

He chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you I get tired?”

“Why throw them?”

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer and again, you don’t push him to either. You barely know him, and you have a feeling he’s told you more than he’s told anyone else in one seating. 

“Okay,” you murmur and his eyes flicker in your direction before nodding and returning his gaze to the streets.

The two of you remain that way until your uber comes to pick you up. He walks you to the car door and opens the door for you, wishing you a goodnight and waiting until you’re far enough to head back inside.

Tony is an enigma, isn’t he? Everyone thinks they have him figured out, but you’re not so sure Tony even knows who he is himself. 

Does Bucky?

You’re about ready to drop dead on your feet as you push open the front door and flick on the light to your apartment, your phone in hand as you mindlessly reading Pietro’s “where’d you go?” text. Honestly, you have half a mind to drop yourself on the sofa instead of your bed, even if your bedroom is only a few steps away from the sofa. 

Just as you’re about to close the door behind you and are about to click on your text message thread with Bucky, the creaking of wooden flooring meets your ears and your eyes whip up, finding an unfamiliar woman standing next to your dining table with a hesitant smile and wide, green eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?”

[crownjimin]

✰ 078 | the first move

la vie en rose ━ in which lee aera, a girl who has been crushing on choi soobin for a long, long time, is starting her junior year and her friends decide that its time for her to make her move.

( masterlist | prev | next )

“I never-I’ve actually never been to a cat cafe,” Soobin says as a small, light gray British Shorthair leaps from the floor and settles onto his lap. He heard about cat cafes from his friends, but Soobin never took it upon himself to go and visit one, and now here he sat with Min Sakura.

Sakura smiles at that, cooing at the cat in Soobin’s lap. “Yeah, I don’t come here often but Kyungmi loves this place, so I mostly come here for her.”

The statement makes Soobin raise his eyebrows, somewhat surprised that Sakura was capable of doing something nice. Well, yeah, that’s what made him surprised. Silence blankets the two of them, one that is quite comfortable with the sound of purring cats surrounding them.

“That’s very nice of you, Sakura,” he says genuinely, a tight-lipped smile on his face.

For a second they both just tend to the cats, a waitress coming up to them asking if they wanted to order a pastry or beverage, before taking their order and then leaving them alone once again. The British Shorthair stays cuddled in Soobin’s lap, resting peacefully as he cards his fingers through it’s fur. Sakura, on the other hand, has a gray Scottish Fold in her lap, and as she strokes it’s fur, her eyes never leave Soobin.

He doesn't take notice of her stare, but Sakura doesn’t care. She is planning on confessing today, no matter what happened prior to this because she is certain that the feelings she has for him are real, and probably the most she has liked someone in a while.

The two of them spent some days during the summer together, simply getting to know one another and sharing some of their favorite hobbies with each other. Sakura knew they weren’t dates, everyone knows that Soobin has never had a girlfriend before despite the many girls who have crushed on him before. But that didn’t stop Sakura’s stupid heart from falling from him. She knew good and well that the chances of Soobin asking her out during the summer were slim to none, but she just wanted to pretend.

To pretend like they were possible for the time being.

And especially since Sakura, and many others, initially harbored a crush for Soobin solely based on his physical looks, for her to get to know him on a deeper and more personal level just caused her crush to intensify tenfold. Now, it wasn’t hard for her to picture dates in her head with Soobin, based on all of his favorite places to go. Now, the daydreams have a more realistic factor as she dreams them up. Along with the dreams at night that she has with him in them, so vivid and palpable that it scares her sometimes once she wakes up the morning after.

Yet now was her time. She was ready to move past the lucid dreams and intense daydreams and could potentially make those lifelike thoughts her reality. But first, she had to make up for her losses.

Ten minutes passed before the waitress returned with their order. Soobin ordered a hot chocolate and a buttered croissant, while Sakura settled for rose tea. The moment their drinks were set down, the pair both took a sip, basking in the warmth that smoothed over their bodies. And as Soobin set down his hot chocolate, Sakura took that as her opportunity to speak.

“I, uh, well, I asked you to meet me here to talk,” Sakura begins, Soobin nodding in agreement. “But first, I need to apologize.”

Soobin raises his eyebrow, tilting his head to the side in confusion. “Apologize? For what?”

“For the whole Chanmi fiasco that happened a few weeks ago,” Sakura clarifies with a hesitant smile. “It all got out of hand very quickly, and I just want to apologize for the part I took in it. Chanmi didn’t exactly tell me what she was planning to put in the thread, but I still retweeted it and urged people to look at it, so for that I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet for a few moments as Soobin stares across the table at the orange-haired girl in both disbelief and shock. He couldn’t believe that Sakura was apologizing for something, especially since every one knows when she does something, she means it, so she never apologizes for anything. The fact that she took the time to ask Soobin to speak in private so she could apologize was almost hilariously impossible to him.

So hilarious that he actually lets out a chuckle. Sakura’s heart speeds up at the sound of his chuckle, both smitten and nervous at the sound. She wasn’t sure if he was chuckling in a sardonic way or a genuinely humorous way, but she was really hoping for the latter.

“Sorry,” Soobin apologizes. “But I never thought I’d see the day where Min Sakura apologizes to someone, but here we are.”

He takes a brief sip of his hot chocolate, clearing his throat afterwards. “I appreciate the apology, but I don't think I’m the one you should be saying this to. Yes, you hurt my friends feelings and I’m not okay with that in the slightest, but Haeun and Hyunjin deserve apologies too.”

“I-I know,” Sakura nods. “And I’ll be sure to apologize to them as well, but I just thought since I was,” she pauses for a second. “Since I am closer to you than them, I should apologize to you first, because I should’ve thought about how my actions would have hurt you before I did what I did.”

“Thank you,” Soobin softly speaks, his voice light and delicate. “I do appreciate it.”

She timidly nods as a ‘you’re welcome’, picking up her cup of tea and taking a long sip to help calm her racing heart. Now that she had gotten her apology out of the way, the moment she was somewhat dreading had arrived.

So she sets down her cup and sucks in a deep breath, “Actually, that’s not all I wanted to talk about.”

Soobin perks up at this, watching as Sakura focuses extra hard on the cup of tea that is in her hands. Sakura takes his silence as a signal to continue on, so she does.

“I wanted to—,” a nervous laugh leaves her lips, “—I wanted to also know if maybe, you could give me a chance.”

“A chance?” Soobin repeats, dragging out the last syllable in chance. He’s confused to say the least, but he certainly isn’t dumb. He thinks he knows what Sakura is hinting at, but he needs her to clarify.

“Yeah, y’know,” Sakura’s voice is high and squeaky. “Like a chance, romantically. Like a date?”

Soobin blinks slowly at this, chewing on his bottom lip slightly. “Sakura, you know I don’t-”

“Yes, I know! I know!” She cuts him off, flailing her hands in front of her to get him to stop talking. “But, I just thought that- you never dated anyone because most of the people who crush on you wait for you to ask them out, for you to make the first move.”

His eyes blow wide at this, Soobin never knowing that people expected him to ask them out. Especially since everyone has crushes on him, he’s never the one with the crush, so why should he have to do the asking?

“So since I knew you weren’t going to make the first move, I’m choosing to make it. So,” Sakura huffs in a deep breath. “Choi Soobin, I'm asking you will you please go on a date with me?”

It takes a moment for the question to register in his mind, but once it does Soobin feels his heart sink to his ass.

“Sak-”

“Please,”

“I’ll—” Soobin thinks for a moment, staring across the table into Sakura’s brown eyes. “I’ll think about it okay?”

Sakura nods happily at this answer, taking a massive swig of tea before smiling brightly at the boy across the table. “Okay.”

Oh, yeah Soobin has a lot to think about.

[miraizu]

Open Book - 8. Small Talk

Open Book Ship: Chrollo Lucilfer/Reader Part: 8/?? [PREV] | [NEXT] Word count: 1,748 Warnings: None. Synopsis:  Everybody has to make a way of living. Some are hunters, some are thieves, some are just regular civilians trying to enjoy their lives. You? You’re an informant, and in York New City, a city that never sleeps, you’re about to find out just how much of a commodity that really makes you.

        "You don't have your sword."

        Looking up at the familiar, accented voice, you hummed, eyes crinkling up slightly.  "No," you responded.  "I abandoned it after you abandoned me in Meteor City."

        You hadn't meant for your words to sound so callous, but Feitan being, well, Feitan, took offense.  In an instant, your arm was twisted painfully behind your back.  Even though Feitan was shorter, he was just as strong as you had remembered.  "You forget you're not a part of the Troupe yet.  I could kill you."

        Just as quickly you had twisted your arm around, flinging Feitan over you.  You had the satisfaction of seeing the momentary surprise in his black eyes, although his reflexes hadn't dulled since your time apart.  He had separated from you and landed on his feet with ease, glowering at you.

        Satisfied, you sat back down on your pile of rubble, crossing your arms in unamusement.  "And you forget that we grew up and trained together, apparently."

        The other nearby members were watching in curiosity, especially as you switched back to the common tongue.  All of a sudden, a nearby man started to guffaw, and you looked over, raising an eyebrow.  He was tall and in a terrible looking tracksuit with his dirty blond hair slicked back.  Not a member you had officially met, yet, but you figured you were going to meet him in a moment as he strode over.

        "Lost your touch, Feitan?"  The man teased, Feitan's eyes squinting even more.

        "Joke not funny.  I'll kill you."

        You snorted, not climbing to a stand yet as the member approached you, holding out a hand for you to shake.  You eyed it suspiciously before taking it - his grip was extremely tight, and would definitely break a civilian's bone.  No, scratch that - the hand would be completely crushed.  You didn't wince, didn't blink at all though and returned his grip with just as much strength.  His smile turned into a wide grin.

        "Phinks," he said.  "You've got spunk."

        That was definitely not a word commonly associated with you, but you appreciated the sentiment all the same as you gave him a humored smile.  "[Y/n]," you introduced yourself.  "I have to have something going for me since I grew up with that stick in the mud."

        Phinks laughed again - while not many of the Troupe members seemed to have warmed up to you, Phinks was earnest and open.  Most definitely an enhancer, you figured.

        Finally letting go of your hand, you resisted the urge to massage it as Phinks turned to Feitan.  "So what gives?  You two really grew up together?"

        Feitan grunted, walking away.  "Go die."

        Clever response.  Rolling your eyes, you answered for Feitan.  "Known him since I was born," you explained.  "And yes - he's always been like that."

        Coming up to the two of you was Shalnark, who also seemed curious.  "No wonder he seems to tolerate you more."

        It was true - Feitan had the strangest of ways to show his tolerance for people.  It was the closest he'd ever get to 'love', and while he would attack you and threaten to kill you, you knew he tolerated you much more.  Outside of Troupe members, he wouldn't hesitate to murder.  It was just his way of showing friendship - no, not friendship.  Camaraderie?  You really had no clue how to describe your relationship with Feitan.  He was the closest to family you had ever kept.

        "It's just how we are."

        The three of you continued to talk for a bit.  After Chrollo had confirmed to everybody that you would be joining the Phantom Troupe, some of the hostility had died down.  It wasn't completely gone, though - despite Chrollo's word being law around here, some people were adverse to you joining.  Nobunaga, in particular, didn't trust him.  You had learned he was closest to Uvogin besides Shalnark, but had taken Uvogin's death the hardest.

        Hisoka was the other one.  You had felt his eyes on you constantly, but when you'd look up he'd just be shuffling cards.  You had never trusted him before, but after your fortune, you trusted him even less.  There was no proof that he'd be the one to kill you, but the probability seemed high.  Why, though?  And how?  Sure, you weren't officially in the Troupe yet, but after this heist you'd be getting the spider tattoo.  Spiders couldn't kill each other, so if it was Hisoka, he was either going to betray the Troupe or defect before then.

        It was too confusing to dwell on right now.  You had enough to handle as it was.

        The great thing about conversing with Shalnark and Phinks was that they couldn't give two shits about the past.  They weren't nosy - you assumed it was just a habit picked up by all residents of Meteor City.  In a city forgotten and abandoned by society, survival was the only thing on anybody's mind.  Getting to know others wasn't a priority, and everybody had killed or stole to survive.  Lofty ideals and morals would just get you killed.

        Instead, you all mostly talked about 'adventures'.  You tried to share childhood stories of Feitan, but the man of honor had swiftly come back to try and punch you to shut you up.  You had deftly dodged, but after that he hung around to make sure you didn't say anything that would ruin his image.  It was too bad - you had a plethora of stories.

        The three of you, since Feitan was just hovering to make sure you didn't say anything stupid, had been talking about the other day when you had thrown that pitiful man out of your shop when Chrollo had come back.  He had disappeared at some point to go, and you quote, "run errands".  He was now in his normal attire again, and you had to avert your eyes so you weren't caught staring at his open chest.  He was ripped, and the last thing you needed was to give him even more reason to be cocky.

        Whatever Chrollo had gone to do, his mind was preoccupied as he spoke, half to himself, half to the rest of the Troupe.  "Kortopi, your copies function as en, right?"

        Kortopi - a tiny person covered in blue-gray hair that obscured all other features - confirmed.

        "I need you to find the scarlet eyes."

        As everybody started going through the crates in the base to find them, save for you, Chrollo explained his theory.  The chain user, the person who had visited you back before all of this started, was from the deceased Kurta clan.  He had joined the Nostrade Family in order to find the scarlet eyes, and was definitely trying to enact revenge upon the Troupe.

        After a few minutes, Shizuku had found the scarlet eyes, holding them up and passing them over to Kortopi.  He must have been a type of conjurer of sorts, although his ability was certainly unique.  Soon enough, they figured out where the chain user was staying, and you looked at the map Phinks had.

        "That's Hotel Beitacle," you confirmed, recognizing it immediately.  "The Nostrade family owns it."

        "Ah, that's right.  You've lived in York New for a while," Shalnark hummed, and you nodded once, tense.  He turned back to the map.  "That's where Uvogin had gone..."

        Nobunaga immediately turned to Chrollo.  "Danchou, let me go seek out the chain user, please!"

        Chrollo glanced over and nodded, surprising you and Nobunaga both.  "I'll go as well," he then said, turning around to look at everybody.  "Machi, Shizuku, Pakunoda - no."  He paused, his eyes narrowing in thought, seeming to recall something.  "I'm certain if Pakunoda comes with us, she will die.  [Y/n], you're not a part of the Troupe, but I want you to come and replace Pakunoda for this time."

        Replace the memory seeker, or the ninth month will fade...

        You weren't sure about Pakunoda's abilities, but would trust that Chrollo knew what he was doing - at least, for this.  Nobunaga wasn't quite as happy with the decision, but didn't protest.

        "So be it."  Shrugging, you stood up from your place.  "I know what the chain user looks like - unless he is in disguise, I should be able to point him out."  Now you were really cursing yourself for not grabbing his information when you had the chance.  It would have made this whole process a lot easier, since you could just use your glasses to pick him out.  You supposed that was on you, though.  And speaking of which...

        "Before we leave, though, I want to collect everybody's information."

        Chrollo raised an eyebrow.  "Oh?"

        "I can track the location of everybody.  If anything happens, I'll know where everybody is - I failed to do this with the chain user, but I already used it on you."

        Chrollo wasn't surprised at your admission despite others being in shock you managed to use your hatsu on Chrollo.  "I noticed," he said simply, amused.  "Hm...  Do it on those whose fortunes said they would die."

        His request made sense, and so explaining that you were just going to touch them while holding your book you had summoned it.  Shalnark, Shizuku, and Pakunoda were all confirmed - however, they weren't sure if it would be Kortopi, Phinks, or Feitan next to die either, so you got all of their information as well.  Feitan grumbled a bit, but otherwise didn't argue, knowing not to fight against the Danchou.  Done with your information gathering, you let your book vanish.  Everybody was on edge - not just by you, but on what was going on.  You were a dangerous variable, and Hisoka was clearly unreliable.

        Things weren't looking too good for the Phantom Troupe.

        "Let's go."

        Chrollo wasted no more time on small talk as he led everybody out.  It was raining pretty hard, and on instinct you summoned your glasses right away so you could keep an eye on heat signatures and other familiar faces.  So far, nobody except for your little posse, but it would certainly change when your group got closer to the city.

        The walk was slow, everybody on guard for any suspicious movements.  For a moment, you caught Killua's name through a building - without Gon, surprisingly enough.  You paid no heed to the name, though, knowing that he was lucky enough to not be involved in this mess.  Besides, you had bigger things to worry about.

        After all, one wrong step and you all would be marching to your deaths.