#and working with others but his complete indifference to the business side of things.

[britneyshakespeare]

really? trying to keep a good girl down? smh what would brian protheroe say if he were here

[heeliopheelia]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

word count: 4.3k

warnings: cursing, crying, neglect, tiny mention of bleeding

a/n: i think i win the contest of overusing commas with this one 🤍 tbh this fic is just yapping so pls deal with me... it's good to write some proper angst again tho, i missed it :(( hope you guys like it and don't find them too repetetive!!

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

It's been two weeks since you got the opportunity to take a proper look at Heeseung. And now as you do, you find it hard to recognize your fiancé who looks like he's about to collapse from exhaustion, to say the least. 

“I never asked you to mother me or worry about me so much. Stop getting into my business so much. I’m not a child, YN.”

It’s like he was blind to how hurt his words and actions were making you feel. It’s so unusual for him, so out of character and unfamiliar to you, that you can’t help but think that maybe it really is your fault for riling him up this much.

“I worry about you because I’m your fiancé and I love you, you jerk!” You scoff at his careless words and take a step back, the aching in your heart only increasing. “I only want to look after you because you clearly don't know how to do it yourself. I mean, look at yourself! You look as if you haven’t slept in a week and I know you haven’t been eating either. How can I not worry about you when all you do is neglect yourself?”

“Dunno, maybe find yourself something to keep you busy enough. You stay at home all day, do as much as nothing, no wonder you’re so damn nosy. I would be too with this much time on my hands.”

He’s so indifferent to everything you say, you try to recall where it all started going so wrong. All you did was ask whether he’s eaten at work or not, and now the two of you are snapping at each other as if you weren’t lovers, and trying not to hurt each other was a long forgotten thought by now. 

“If you’re so unhappy with our relationship – with me, maybe it’s best we take a break,” you say as you feel your throat tighten painfully. 

“Agreed. I never even wanted this marriage in the first place,” he scowls, silencing you, words rolling out of his mouth way quicker than his brain is able to process it. 

He bites his words back quickly when he watches your face dropping along with your shoulders, and fuck, you look as if you’ve given up on him right then and there. 

You walk away then, tears streaming down your face, muttering something about how ungrateful he was being, and all Heeseung could do was stand still as if plastered to the floor, in utter disbelief of his own, untrue, words.

After his cruel statement echoes through his head for the fourth time, he finally snaps out of the self pity and rushes after you to the kitchen where you’re leaned over the counter, head buried in your hands as you cry.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly. He walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his forehead on your shoulder blade. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for everything I said, sweetheart.”

He turns you around gently and feels his chest tighten at how fucking sad you look. He never wants to see you like this. He never wants to be the cause of this ever again.

And when he looks to the side, his throat closes and dries completely at the sight of your engagement ring laying on the counter right behind you. 

“Are you sure you didn’t mean it?” You ask, wiping the tears away with your hand pointlessly as another stream follows right after. “Things like that don’t come out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t, love, I swear I didn’t. I’m so fucking sorry,” he breathes out, pulling you closer to him by your neck again. 

Never again. Never fucking again. He keeps telling himself in his head as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles, just where your ring was supposed to be sitting snugly. Then he lowers it and places your palm against his chest, right above his heart, and covers your smaller hand with his.

That was too close to losing you, and himself, for that matter. Because he would never recover if you were gone from his life and all because of him. 

“Then why did you even say it?” You sob pitifully as you feel the warm tears dripping down the tip of your nose.

“I don’t know,” he shushes you gently, trying his best to not break you any further. 

You pull away once you feel calm enough, hands clutching his t-shirt. “It's not too late to call off the wedding, Seung,” you manage out breathily, raising your palm to cup his cheek. “I'd rather not take the step further than have you unhappy.”

“Darling, no.” Heeseung bends down to minimize the distance between the two of you and peppers your face with loving, warm kisses. He just wants to erase those atrocious thoughts out of your mind as quickly as possible. “Please, there's nothing I'd ever want more than to make you my wife. That was stupid of me to say. I'll never be happy if I'm not with you, my love.”

“I just don’t want to force this marriage on you. You need to want it as much as I do, otherwise it’s pointless.”

Heeseung almost chokes on air when he rushes out his answer even before you can properly finish your sentence. “I do want it. Please, you have to believe me.” 

“Really?”

Heeseung smiles at you softly as he wipes your wet cheeks with his thumbs. “Really. Scout’s honour.”

You breathe out, feeling relief, and look up at him with squinted, puffy eyes. “Sometimes I just wanna strangle you to death, Lee Heeseung.”

He chuckles lightly before pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Aren't you just so adorable? You should add this to your wedding vows.”

“Maybe I’ll add this to your eulogy instead if you pull shit like that again.”

Heeseung clicks his tongue with a grin pulling on his lips. “Touché.”

PARK JAY

The atmosphere in the living room is so heavy that your chest starts to hurt. You’re standing barely two steps away from the man you love the most, yet you’ve never felt more far away from him than in this moment. 

His eyes – cold but still undoubtedly full of love, drill holes in the side of your head as you turn your face away from him to try and gather your thoughts.

Arguments with Jay were rare. You always tried to work things out immediately, keeping your heads cool. But something has broken over the last month and you can’t see each other eye to eye anymore. At the very beginning of your relationship you made a promise to never go to bed angry. To never leave things unresolved. Yet now Jay’s been sleeping on the couch for the past week, and you fail to understand what the fuck has happened to the two of you. 

And you can’t help but think that, maybe, sometimes love is just not enough. 

“You’re not even trying to find the middle ground anymore. All you do is snap at me the second I come home. I’m fucking tired of it! Would it hurt to give it a rest for a day?” 

The tension is almost palpable. You hate how you can’t seem to back away from any argument but only keep hurting him instead. 

“Put effort into our relationship first, then we’ll talk,” you spit out instead, against your better judgment.

“It’s funny coming from you who’s done nothing but put a fucking distance between us!”

“This doesn’t make any sense anymore, Jay. We need some time apart,” you finally speak into the dull silence, eyes casted downwards at the floor as your hand keeps twitching, only to finally grab for your ring finger and slip the silver band off of it. You didn’t think much of your action, hell, you didn’t even process it properly. 

Well, not until you hear the shaky exhale leave Jay’s lips. 

Silently, he presses his lips together and nods his head before turning on his heel and leaving the room. You listen intently to the shuffling, then ringing of the keys and eventually the door being shut. 

A moment of silence turns into minutes of you staring at the ring on your palm with tears burning your eyes mercilessly. 

With your heart falling low to your stomach, you drop down on the couch and tug on your hair slightly, cursing yourself for acting so mindlessly. 

You wallow in self pity in the dead quiet room. The shiny ring feels so heavy and burning in your clenched fist. You take in a deep breath, then quickly slide the band back onto your finger, feeling instantly shielded with it being on its righteous place again.

And just like that, you spend the next three hours on the verge of losing your sanity. With no word from Jay. He’s left your messages unread. He’s left your calls unanswered. 

You don’t know whether he’s okay or hurt or simply gone. All that combined is enough to leave you panicked and terrified, unable to have a second of peace. 

You never meant to take it this far. This – your words and rapid actions, that will forever remain as one of your biggest regrets. You don’t like the idea that you made your other half feel like you’ve taken him for granted. Or for what’s worse, like a person that you can use for unloading your frustration on. 

There’s this throbbing pain in your chest as you realize that maybe he’s not coming back because why would he if you can’t even love him properly?

Your fingers are bleeding from how hard you’ve been picking on your cuticles. 

And then you hear the jingle of keys and soon the front door opens quietly. You know that even after all of this he’s still being careful to not wake you up. It’s killing you how he thinks you’d ever be able to get a wink of sleep without knowing he’s safe. 

You’re quick to drop your phone on the couch and shoot up on your legs, rushing over to the door and throwing yourself on Jay’s neck. 

“I was so worried about you!” You gasp out, clinging onto your fiancé desperately as tears unknowingly make their way down your cheeks. “Please, don’t ever do that again!”

“Sorry, my phone died,” he replies after a second or two, bringing his arm up to wrap around your waist and keep you close to him. 

He’s still upset but he understands where you’re coming from, knowing well that if it was you instead of him he’d probably go insane from worry. 

He can feel your heart hammering against his chest, so he lifts his hand and strokes your hair to help you calm down. But then you start crying, feeling his gentle touch even after everything you said, that was enough to push you over the edge. You clench your trembling hands on his sweater as you burst out with choked sobs, slouching against his warm and comforting body. 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you weep into his chest like a mantra and Jay can quite literally feel his heart cracking at your miserable state. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers, hot air hitting your ear before he presses a soft kiss to its tip. “Don’t cry anymore, honey. We’re okay.”

“I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you,” you whimper quietly. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“Don’t say that,” he scolds you with a frown. Your whimpers twist his guts even more than your harsh words from before. “It’s not the first nor the last time we’ll have an argument. It’s not worth losing your pretty head over it, okay?” 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat one last time. “I promise I'll never take it off again. I’ll never lash out on you like that ever again too.”

Jay grabs your hand and runs his thumb over the thin silver band, the same one he was picking so carefully for weeks, and a small smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. He hates how shameful you sound. 

He’ll never tell you how the sight of you pulling your ring off your finger made him physically sick to his stomach. He can't have you feeling even worse than you already do. So instead he brings you close to him and rests his forehead on yours. 

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper quietly as you close your eyes, your heavy eyelashes letting go of another few droplets of crystal tears which Jay’s lips soak up instantly. “I don’t know what I’d do if you actually left.”

“You know me better than to think I’d let us break it off over such a petty fight.” And, yes, you do. But your lip wobbles with silent agony at the sole thought of that. “Hey,” he tries again as he presses a loving kiss to your red nose. “I’m not leaving, okay? How could I ever?” 

“I love you.”

With his thumb caressing your burning cheek so tenderly, you feel at peace again.

“I love you too,” he replies without skipping a beat. “No one can handle you as well as I do. And no one sees me for me like you do. We complete each other. We belong together.”

He kisses you silly then, until there’s no more tears left in your body and you’re barely able to breathe anymore. He kisses you until your legs give in and he swoops you up to carry you into your shared bed for the first time in what seems like forever.

He kisses you until it engraves in your mind that there’s no other person for him in this world but you.

SIM JAKE

“Baby, I already apologized.” A groan lingers at the back of his throat but for his own sake he stifles it inside. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

You sit on the edge of your shared bed and clench your fingers on the silky duvet. “How about you start showing up to things we both agreed on attending to?”

He runs his hand down his face. “I know. It just slipped my mind, that’s all. You know how busy I’ve been this week.”

“This shouldn’t be my business only, though. I mean, for christ’s sake, it’s our wedding! I would really appreciate it if you participated in something for once!”

Flowers and cake. That’s literally all you’ve asked of him to go and pick with you for the wedding reception. Knowing his tight schedule, you picked the date carefully so that it wouldn’t meddle with his work and you could even go grab some dinner afterwards. But your plans all went out the window when he didn’t even bother showing up or giving you a heads up text, standing you up yet another time when it comes to your wedding preparations.

You’re honestly getting tired of it.

“I’ll be there next time,” he assures you quickly as he nervously taps his fingers on the doorway of your bedroom. 

“You said you wouldn’t do that,” your voice wavers as your shoulders drop with resignation. With the back of your hand, you wipe off the tears that made their way down your cheeks. “You promised to help, Jake. But you left me alone with everything, as usual.”

“It’s not even that big of a deal. This can be rescheduled any time. Baby, stop stressin’ so much.”

“But it is a big deal to me!” You cry out, palm reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You breathe out heavily. “I don’t want to do everything by myself! We’re supposed to be in this together! If getting married means that I’m gonna be alone with all the responsibilities that you don’t consider important enough, I’m not even sure I still want it.”

To back up your words, your hand moves half-consciously to your ring finger and you twist the cool piece of jewelry in between your fingers. 

“No, no, no, no.” Jake moves quickly, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes towards you to desperately clasp your hand in his two and stop you from whatever the hell you were about to do. He drops to his knees in front of the bed, right at your feet. “Baby, you promised you’d never take it off.”

You’re at a loss of words as you look into his wide eyes, the seriousness of your actions only catching up to you now. You gasp quietly, eyes watering just like his, quickly relaxing your tensed hand in his and letting him slide the ring back down your finger, just where it belongs.

Silence envelopes the two of you, besides the sound of your sniffles. 

You feel awful. 

Jake feels even worse. 

Leaning forward, you press your face to his shoulder and melt instantly when he brings a hand to caress your hair. 

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, clenching your hand to feel the cool ring against your skin. “I don't know why I did that. I didn't mean to.”

“I know,” he soothes you just as softly. He stands up from the floor and carefully maneuvers the two of you so that you’re placed on his lap as he sits with his back against the headboard. “It's my fault. I'm sorry. I never meant to disregard your feelings like that.”

At the end of the day, both of you would rather set themselves ablaze than watch the other one hurting. 

You nod silently, heart pounding in your chest before you bring your arms up and throw them over his neck.

“I’m sorry I was so impulsive.”

“No. You did nothing wrong.” His soothing voice carries over the room, enveloping you with warmth. “I promise I'll be here whenever you want me to from now on. I don’t want you to feel neglected by me, especially now when you’re this stressed over the wedding. I won’t let you down, again.” 

“I just need a little help, that’s all,” you mumble tiredly into his skin.

“I know.” His warm lips press to your forehead lovingly. “I’m sorry for being an insensitive douche. It won’t happen again. I’ll take some days off next week, hm?”

The tears on your face dry slowly as your hold on him tightens. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s done. I'll be all yours and you’ll be all mine then,” he hums and noses at your cheek, finally bringing out a small giggle out of you. After all these years, he still melts at the sound. “I won’t let things get this out of hand again, YN. I promise.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Tilting your head up and bringing his down towards you, you join your lips in a kiss that you’ve been longing for for days. His movements are slow and careful as he tries to soak up as much of the moment as possible. 

His kisses slowly put your broken pieces back together. He never knew how much seeing you cry like this would hurt him. And he’ll make damn sure he won’t ever have to experience that again for as long as you're with him.

“If I have a life to spend, it'll only be with you, sweetheart,” he lowers his voice to match yours, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand. “You're it for me. I'll never give you a chance to doubt that ever again.”

PARK SUNGHOON

“You’re never home! There’s always a hundred things more important to you than spending an hour of your time with me. Your fucking fiance! Are we really about to get married when you’re clearly so tired of me already?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you finally voice out everything that’s been sitting on your chest for the past month. Things have not been working out well with the two of you, much to your despair. He’s been neglectful, always too busy to help you with anything – even the wedding related things that you should’ve gotten done weeks ago. 

And you know that he’s swamped with work and it's not his fault. You understand everything. But to ask him to spare you an hour or two of his day shouldn’t be too much. It shouldn’t make him snap at you unlike what he just did the second he came back home. You slowly begin to lose your hope.

“God, have you always been this needy? Why can’t you accept that I can’t always put you first? No matter how much I’d want to, sometimes I just can’t! Deal with this!”

“Fucking- Fine.”

Your hand moves quicker than your brain, and the next thing you know, your shiny ring is being pulled off your finger and resting in the palm of your other hand. 

You can see the disbelief flashing through his face briefly before it completely morphs into a scowl. 

“You really think that this will solve the problem?” He asks, eyebrows narrowed as he glowers at you from across the room. “Really? Does that ring mean so little to you that you go and throw it away with any minor inconvenience?” 

You try to blink away the frustrated tears, hand raking up to brush your hair away from your face. “No, fuck, I just- I don’t know what to do anymore, Sunghoon. I feel like I’m the only one in this relationship. I need you to give me something more because whatever you’re doing now is not enough for me.”

“Well, I’m putting out everything I have, YN! I love you! If that’s still not good enough for you, then maybe it’s not meant to be.”

The silence that falls in the room doesn’t last long as your sudden sob pierces Sunghoon’s ears quickly, making his stomach drop to the soles of his feet. His heart wrenches and twists as the anger simmers down and evaporates from his body within a second, and he’s quickly coming back to his senses at the sight of you breaking down right in front of him. 

“Can’t you just try?” You cry into your hands, shielding your face away from your fiance. “That’s all I’m asking of you. Is it really so hard to try?”

No, it’s not. Sunghoon knows it without a second of thinking. It’s not too hard to try, never if it’s for you. And his throat dries so quickly when he basks in the weight of his words that finally made you break as well. 

“You don’t know how much it hurts to feel like you’re too much for your partner,” you wail with a small voice, shoulders trembling and hands quickly getting damp with tears. “You’ll never know how it is to feel unwanted, because you’ll never have to when you're with me. Because I love you, asshole, but now I’m doubting if you’re saying it back just for the sake of it.”

With air getting stuck in his throat, Sunghoon looks at you wide-eyed before quickly crossing the living room and enveloping you in his arms. His warmth wraps around you in what you've always considered to be safety, but now it just makes you cry more. 

He finds it hard to breathe. The hesitation in your eyes feels like a stab to his chest.

“Of course I still love you,” he says, voice muffled by your hair. 

He hates how he made you feel the opposite. He hates how you’re right and he never had to worry about any reassurement of such kind from your side because you’re just that good to him. And his heart breaks with the realization of how much of a lousy partner he’s been to you when all you ever were was nothing less than perfect.

So he places his hand on the back of your head and presses you even closer to his shoulder as you cry, his own eyes burning with tears at the sound of your sobs and sniffles. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my darling,” he apologizes with a heavy heart, fearful of what’s about to come next. “I didn’t mean to neglect you this much. I could say that I’m tired and the work has been a lot lately, but I know these excuses are not enough to make up for my actions.”

You’re mad and hurt, but you love him and would never want to give up on him, so you wrap your arms around his middle and hold him almost as tight as he holds you, burying your wet face in his chest. 

“I love you more than anything, YN.” He pulls away from you only to cup your face and make you look at him. His long fingers wipe away the tears with gentle touch, soothing your stinging skin instantly. “You could never be too much for me. I want all of you. I promise I’ll do better. I’ll love you better.”

And when you’re looking up at him with these shiny eyes of yours, he closes the distance and presses a loving kiss to your swollen lips, hoping to take at least some of the pain away. He doesn’t think he can hold you any tighter. He can’t love you any stronger than right now, and it messes with his head how easily he could’ve had it all ruined only minutes ago. 

He’ll never take your love for granted ever again. Because if he did, he’d never be able to pick up the parts of whatever was left of him, and put himself back together ever again. 

You can feel his warm hand opening your closed palm before he takes the ring you've been clutching so tightly and holds it in between his fingers. 

“Can I put it back on, baby? Please.”

You nod wordlessly while you try to tame your tears. You hold your slightly trembling hand up to him. He takes it, gently, and watches as your bottom lip wobbles while he slides the ring on your finger just like he did months ago. 

“I'll never screw up like that again. You have my word for it.”

You sniffle quietly when he kisses you right on the cool band adorning your skin. “You better not, Park Sunghoon.”

His long fingers caress your cheek, wiping the remains of the tears away. “Can you forgive me, darling?”

You don't need to think long of an answer. “You know I can never stay mad at you. Even if you're a idiot, I'll never stop loving you. You have my whole heart, Hoon. Please, don't ever make me regret trusting you with it.”

permanent taglist + taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @seongclb @iamnotalicia

© heeliopheelia 2024 // ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT copy, translate or repost any of my works on any other social platforms.

[vsimp]

bitter

pairing: kamisato ayato x f!reader

wc: 3k

genre: angst

summary: where you are in an arranged marriage with him and you rarely ever see him

warning: somewhat traditional housewife roles, negative thoughts

part 2

What a cruel fate it was, to fall in love with a man who neither loves or hates you.

To spend long, cold nights alone. A large, indifferent room divided by two separate futons.

You knew that your husband was a busy man. He worked all night, barely resting during the day, and every time you’ve caught glimpse of his office, there was always a huge mess laying around on his desk. But having been married to him for such a long time, you felt that the distance between you two grew longer and longer every day.

In the morning, you would greet him with the biggest smile you could muster. He would greet you back with the same gentle smile everyday. At this point, you knew what his real smile looked like. You don’t recall when the last time he’s ever given you one.

If Miss Ayaka and Thoma were busy, and you dined alone with your husband, the table would be silent. You didn’t know what to say, and he’d also be reading over papers while eating, so you were afraid to disturb him. If the two were present, or if there were any other guests, Ayato would be more active in the conversation, joking lightheartedly and appearing like he was actually enjoying himself.

This man did not treat you unkindly despite having these feelings that lurked in your chest. In fact, it was the opposite. He was a true gentleman every time you interacted with him. He would open the door for you while you two walked together. He would pull out the chair when you wanted to sit. He would hold your hand and escort you to any event, or if you were getting on/off a carriage.

But it was all superficial. It felt like he was forcing himself to do these actions for you. You couldn’t even tell what his intentions are for doing so. You couldn’t tell if he just disliked you, disliked this arranged marriage, or if he just wanted people to see what a loving husband he was, that everything was okay right now even though it really wasn’t.

From touchless nights to meaningless small talk, your heart ached at the thought of everything. You don’t ever recall the last time he’s kissed you on the lips in private. You don’t recall the last time he’s ever opened up to you about the depths of his heart, from the things that scared him the most, to the things that has made him truly happy.

And while you know that a relationship thrives off of communication, you couldn’t help but feel scared. You were scared that the man in front of you would grow even colder, shutting off the depths of his heart forever, pushing you away if you were to ever confront him. Maybe he’d even take it to an extreme and call off the marriage with you, telling you that he never loved you, as this was really only an arrangement between your two families. Maybe he was in love with someone else prior to this marriage, and he has only reserved his heart for them all of these years.

You have seen his darker sides. He doesn’t think that anyone has noticed, but you have. You were always watching him, after all.

A more mischievous side of him existed deep down in there, a certain sly foxiness that could even rival Guuji Yae herself. Sometimes, it would scare you to see that forced smile on his face as if what lingered in his mind were true thoughts darker than what he had initially led on.

But despite his flaws, despite the mask he constantly wore around, you loved him. You loved him so much it hurt. You loved how he cared for people despite them being complete strangers to him. You loved his gentle smile as he holds your hand so tenderly when you accidentally trip. How could a man be so kind, yet so cruel to your heart?

And even as you laid in bed most nights alone, shedding tears as if you were the dark side of the crystal moon longing for the light of the sun, you still loved him regardless.

You were in your futon all alone as of this moment, staring at the ceiling. The room was pitch black and silent, other than the occasional sounds of the residual droplets from the passing rain. Ayato would never let you rest in a room that was cold, so the temperature was heated comfortably, yet you couldn’t help but bundle yourself up under the covers even more.

It was cold without him. You didn’t even realize when the last time he had actually went to bed in this room you both allegedly shared.

But it didn’t matter anyways because his futon laid far away from yours.

Your own husband wouldn’t even come near you when you’re together in the same room. You didn’t know if he just wanted to be respectful as a formality between husband and wife, or if he is repulsed by being in the same vicinity as you, but it hurt regardless.

You sighed as you covered your face with the blanket, trying to get rid of these harboring thoughts. It was no use, no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop thinking about your relationship with him every single night. He is what plagues your mind at night, like a thorn lodged deep in a fingertip. It was only soon that you will be bleeding out your love for him.

How could you make a scene about all of this anyways? You've seen how hard he works. You knew that everything he did, it was for the sake of protecting his family and home. Who were you to complain about how busy he was? That was another reason why you continued to keep silent. You thought that your worries meant nothing compared to his own.

Your mind was racing a mile per minute, and you knew you weren't able to get any sleep like this. You got up and out of your futon as you decided to go for a stroll around the estate. The guards protected the outside and prevented from anybody from coming in. As long as you walked around inside, there should be no problem with you strolling the corridors, so long as you remained quiet.

Lighting up a candle, you started meandering through the halls, your footsteps nearly silent with no goal or destination in mind. You didn't even realize your feet had automatically taken you to the doors of his office, the same door that you have stared at many times, knowing that your husband was in there, but you had no reason or courage to open. You see the dimly lit light through the translucent paper sheets, and you knew that tonight was going to be another long night with no rest for him.

You sighed, not remembering the last time you had been in his office, and you were about to step away, but the door suddenly slides open rather violently. You flinch in shock because you didn’t expect for anything to happen, as he usually never notices your presence.

"Who is there?" He said in a serious tone, and you were finally greeted by the man who plagued your every thought and dreams. His hand laid on the hilt of his sword, almost as if he was ready to strike down any intruder who was lurking in the shadows. But instead of drawing his sword, he blinked a few times, realizing it was just you who stood there. He instantly let go of the sword and his expression relaxed a bit, although his eyebrows were furrowed slightly to show confusion. "Y/n? What are you doing here? It is almost 2am right now."

His presence stunned you for a second before you snapped out of the current awe-struck daze you were in. It had been quite a while since you've seen his face. He was rarely home anymore, but when he was, he would be holed up in his office. You only ever see him to greet him when he returned back home, and sometimes when he leaves, as he had a habit of sneaking out secretly every so often.

"Oh." You were flustered at this unexpected situation. "I had trouble sleeping, so I decided to go for a walk..."

"Is something troubling you?" He asked in concern. "If it is work-related with the household, then I know Ayaka would be happy to give you a hand.”

"It's not that..." You shook your head. You didn't want him to worry about you, so you tell him a small lie. "It's just one of those nights..."

"I see."

"Have you been faring well?" You then asked him.

He gave you a small, gentle smile, but you have seen this many times. It was one of the masks he wore when he wasn’t telling the truth.

"I've been doing alright," he replied. Anybody would've believed him, as he would never appear disheveled in front of anybody, but from the way his eyes had a slight dark tint underneath them and the mess that apparently was his desk with papers and pens strewn everywhere, you knew that he was far from so. "I was actually looking to take a break soon from my paperwork. Since you probably will be up for a little bit, would you care to join me?"

An invitation from him was rare, and you immediately jumped ship. You nodded. "Let me go prepare some tea."

"Oh, there's no need to do that."

"Nonsense," you gave him a reassuring smile, knowing what he was going to say. He was so considerate as always, not wanting to trouble you. "It will only be a few.”

You start to walk down the hall to head to the kitchen, but you were surprised to hear footsteps behind you. Before you knew it, Ayato was walking beside you, and you could hear your heart thumping in your chest.

"Ayato?" You questioned.

It was dim, as the candle was the only thing that lit the dark halls, so you can barely make out his expression.

"I'll tag along with you then." He said softly, as to not wake anybody else up. "It will be a good change of pace from being stuck in my office all night."

To you, he was so hard to read at times. If he was accompanying you, he surely must have his reasons, as he had never used any of his personal time on you before. He only accompanied you outside when he had a special meeting at an event that required for both spouses to arrive. Those were the only times when he was somewhat affectionate. That was why you were nervous when he decided to come along with you, thinking he had an ulterior motive like he usual does. But a small, small part of you hoped that it was something else; that he wanted to join you because he missed you and just wanted to idly chat.

You stepped into the kitchen and then lit a brighter lantern to illuminate the room using your own candle. But before you could do anything else, you watched as Ayato's hand pushed a portion of your hair aside. You couldn't help but feel your cheeks heat up at the action, your eyes making its way towards him now that you were able to see his face.

He wore a gentle smile on his face as he looked down at you tenderly. A rare expression indeed, you’ve only noted him to give this look to Ayaka. It made your heart hurt a little as it thumped away in your chest, feeling like you could soar to the moon and never come back.

"Your hair was getting close to the flames, so I didn't want it to burn,” he explained.

"Oh..." You didn't know what else you could say. "Thank you..."

With that, you started boiling the kettle of water, your body moving to find tea leaves. Ayato watches on without speaking a word, and you two drift into a somewhat lulling silence.

As you prepared your leaves, Ayato interrupted the silence no sooner than later.

“There’s another event that the Kanjou Commission is hosting,” he said. There it was. He needed you to attend another political event with him. You were once so naive to think that he would actually spend time with you just because he wanted to. You knew he hated small talk and would rather get straight to the point. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind attending it with me.”

Of course you didn’t mind, if it meant that you would be spending more time with him. But even if you did expect for this, you were still disappointed.

“Sure. When will it be?”

“In two months. They’re hosting a party event to discuss upcoming financial plans for the winter.”

You nodded, your hands a little rougher than usual as you crushed up the dried tea leaves in the mortar. Usually you would hide your emotions well, but it definitely showed in the way you pounded at the leaves.

If Ayato had noticed your switch in moods, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he went over to the cabinet to grab two cups for the tea.

“I appreciate it. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

Another blatant lie fueled only by courtesy. He always says this whenever you did a favor for him. If you were to truly ask for a favor, he would have Thoma somehow fulfill it, or he would say that he was too busy to do it himself, and that he would make it up later. He would send a gift, picked out by either Thoma or Ayaka of course, to later apologize for not fulfilling your promise.

And although it has only happened four or five times before you’d stop asking him for favors, knowing that he was too busy to fulfill them, it still left a bitter feeling within you.

You felt that it was selfish for you to feel this way. You knew that he had lost his parents at a young age, having to resume the role as the leader of the Yashiro Commission and head of the Kamisato Clan very early in life. You thought it wasn’t right for you to feel bitter about small things like this. Yet, as you glanced at the man in front of you, who barely looked at you and instead stared at the bright full moon outside, your heart ached at this solemn expression— one that loomed with fatigue and tiredness.

Maybe what you truly longed for was his happiness. Maybe you wanted to share that happiness with him, although you knew it would be a long shot. So long as he was the head of the Yashiro Commission, the leader of the Shuumatsuban, there will always be a distance between you two, as he prioritized things differently from any other typical person. Even though he was in the same room as you right now, as the moon peaked through the small window, the cicadas singing in the distance, he still looked as alone as ever. Like there was an unmeasurable length between you two, and you were too afraid to cross it, in fear that you would never be able to reach him.

The kettle soon starts to heat up, and you take it off the flame to start steeping the tea leaves. A few minutes of silence passed, and you wondered then if he was going to leave immediately after he finished his tea. It was still hot, so you had a couple more minutes left with him, right?

You poured the tea carefully in the cup and then proceeded to hand it over to him.

“It’s hot, so be careful.”

“Thank you,” he smiled at you and graciously accepted the tea. He picked it up to his lips, blowing it a few times as he inhaled the scent. “This smells like a different type of tea than the one you served at the event the other day.”

You remembered that event. You were attending a birthday party for an old couple who were close friends with the Kamisato’s. You brewed that tea with extra care, knowing that Ayato was going to drink it on that very occasion.

“It was truly delicious,” he complimented and you felt your heart soar at his words once more. “I know I never told you this, but it was one of my favorite hot teas.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I smiled, making note to remember that information. “This one that I brewed helps with stress and calms the mind.”

He took a sip once the tea is cooled down a bit more. “I can see how this one can have that effect. It’s a very mild, but calming flavor. It’s a good choice for you to brew this, since it will probably help you sleep.”

Actually, you had brewed it for him, so that he wouldn’t stress so much, but you held your tongue back. Instead, you took a sip of the hot tea, trying to match his pace so that you both could finish at the same time.

“I hope you like it,” you said.

“I do enjoy it quite a bit,” he replied with a small smile on his face. “I will take it to my office and savor it. I appreciate you willing to spend time with me.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“I hope you get some sleep soon, and try not to stay awake for too long,” your husband stated. “Please pardon me, I must return to my work.”

You forced out a smile in return, knowing that he had cut his time off with you short on purpose.

“Have a good night, Ayato.”

He gave a small nod as he walked out with the tea in his hand. You waited for the door to fully shut before you leaned on the counter with your back pressed to it.

He didn't even wait to finish the tea before he left. He just went straight to the point, pushing you aside as if your feelings had never mattered to him in the first place.

Your hands gripped the ceramic tea cup tightly. It felt like if you had held it tight enough, it would shatter and break, scalding your skin like the way your husband did just now.

Your tears dripped into the tea, the salty solution messing with the delicate taste of the drink as you sipped it, not wanting anything to go to waste. What was once a calming, smooth taste was now bitter.

So, so bitter.

It was another cruel, lonely night that awaited you.

part 2

[al-the-remix]

BuckTommy Positivity Week Day 2: nicknames and terms of endearment

thank you to the @bucktommypositivityweek mods for putting this together so quickly! please overlook any spelling/grammar errors...it normally takes me 5-7 business days to catch them all (if even) and I really wanted to write something for this event. Rated: E • 2K • Fluff, Romance, Humour, And some smut at the end.

Of all the things Buck thinks may prove to be a speed bump in his first relationship with a dude, (phrasing he’s still getting ragged for), like who gets to be the big spoon, if he was going to have to start buying his own shampoo (the bottle Natalie left in his shower had entered a critical state of near empty), the whole dick situation, none of them actually turn out to be much of an issue. 

As it happens Tommy is pretty indifferent when it comes to their sleeping arrangements (together, preferably); he offers to drop by the CVS and pick up more shampoo for Buck when he realizes he’s out (are you sure Herbal Essence is really what you want?); and let's just say Buck finds he takes to cock like a duck to water. 

In the end, he’s so busy worrying about whether Tommy would want to be the little spoon on occasion, or if his boyfriend now thinks he doesn’t know how to wash his hair, he completely overlooks one of the most obvious hurdles of them all: pet names. 

And the worst part is that it’s totally a one sided issue. “Sweetheart” slips out of Tommy’s mouth so easy and so smooth, his tone warm like butter sliding around a hot pan, just a little gravelly, especially first thing in the morning and late at night. The word rolls down Buck’s spine like condensation, gaining speed, to pool warm and liquid in the cradle of his hips. Tommy makes it sound so natural: a little cocky, a little, flirty, a little tongue and cheek, like the word was created to be formed by his lips and not the other way around.

Buck tries it out in the mirror one time, it’s clunky and awkward and he embarasses himself too much to keep going. He’d been surprised, maybe even a little underwhelmed (in a good way), by how few differences there really were when it came to dating men vs. women. Sure, he didn’t think any of his previous girlfriends would have been charmed if he tried one of his new grappling moves on them pre-fuck (but he bet he could proabally find a woman who did if he tried hard enough), and the stubble burn on his ass was new but not all that different from eating a girl out one week post bikini wax–the important part was the kisses felt the same, Tommy’s skin didn’t taste any different against Buck’s tongue, and his heartbeat still fluttered high in his throat when Tommy looked at him and smiled or reached out to interlace their fingers. 

The point was, the things that do stand out to him about Tommy: his strength, the way he carries himself, how he’s in equal measures serious and goofy and sarcastic in a way that has Buck bubbling fondness and unable to hold back his grin, makes it difficult for Buck to come up with an enderment he feels encompassess all of that. He’s probably overthinking it (he definitely is), but it wasn’t the first time Tommy had left him reeling and feeling slightly unmoored, and it likely wouldn’t be the last, so he better pull himself up by his bootstraps and get to work.

Buck decides the best way to feel Tommy out was to work it into casual conversation. An experiment of sorts. He’s already got a list of potential options on his phone; he leaves sweetheart off it because it just doesn’t sound right coming out of anyone’s mouth but Tommy’s. 

Tommy’s working in the garage when Buck decides to give his first option a go. The heat spiked around noon, and Tommy’s got a box fan blasting in the corner of the room. He’s still got a massive gray splotch on the center of his back where his shirt is stuck to his skin and Buck’s a little surprised (and disappointed) that hasn’t ditched it yet. 

“Hey honey, it’s smokin’ in here, do you want some water?”

Tommy jerks, bumping his head on the hood of the Charger. Buck winces. The look Tommy shoots over his shoulder is an incredulous one, rubbing at the back of his head. “I’m sorry, what did you just call me?”

Buck crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not backing down now. “Honey.”

Tommy raises a brow. “What, are you going to make me a sandwich too? Get me a beer?”

Buck throws his hands in the air because he can, he knows Tommy finds his dramatics charming, the poor sucker. He turns on his heel, a smile eating away at the corner of his mouth. “I was just trying to be nice, but if you’re fine–”

Tommy lunges out and hooks his fingers in the waistband of Buck’s shorts, reeling him back. “Whoa, wait a second. I didn’t go that far…”

Buck is very happy to let himself be dragged into the circle of Tommy’s arms, broad hands slipping into his back pockets. Tommy smells a little funky, like sweat and grease and the spearmint gum he likes to chew when he’s working with his hands, an old habit from quitting nicotine post-military. 

He slips his fingers under the damp cotton at Tommy’s waist, rolling the hem of his shirt up inch by inch. “Well, what do you want then?”

Tommy gives him a quick peck on the lips. “I can think of a few things, but water does sound pretty good right now.”

Buck leans in for another kiss, letting this one linger. “Mmm, alright.”

“What,” Tommy drawls, “No, ‘alright, honey’?”

Buck slaps him hard on the ass, Tommy letting out a full body “oof” a Buck steps out of the circle of his arms. 

“Maybe later if you ask nicely.” Buck wags a finger at him as he walks slowly backwards towards the door to the house. Pretty proud of himself when he doesn’t trip over the first step.

Well, he can scratch that one off the list. 

The next up is babe, which Buck regrets almost immediately. 

“Babe, do you know where my running shoes ended up?” he calls down from the loft, and gets in return: “Where you left them babe, right on top of mine!”

Tommy spends the rest of the day parroting him, “pass the remote, babe–do you need me to pick anything up on my way home, babe--don’t drop the soap, babe–” and Buck thinks it’s best to lay that one to rest before he goes insane. 

It becomes clear that the rest aren’t going to make the cut either and Buck decides to take the opportunity to have some fun with it instead. “Honeybun” makes Tommy snort coffee out his nose; “Gumdrop”, specifically employed in front of Eddie, makes Tommy glow, pleased and a little flustered at being razzed about it by his new friend; “Lover” makes the corners of Tommy’s mouth writhe and his eyes roll and his nose scrunch up like he’s sort of embarrassed by how much he likes that one, (Buck slips that information into his back pocket for later).

They all live within the sliding scale of reactions Buck expects from him: fondness and humor and affection. It’s not until he reaches the end, the one Buck had almost not bothered putting on the list it was so commonplace, that he elicits a reaction that makes him pause. 

Tommy’s in the kitchen, kneading pasta dough into a soft ball, they’re making handmade ravioli to take to a housewarming potluck at Bobby and Athena’s new place, when Buck asks: “Baby, what time are we supposed to be leaving again?” and watches the back of Tommy’s neck flush a vibrant red. Interesting. 

Buck doesn’t draw attention to it. He doesn’t push or tease. He just drops it into their conversations, here and there, not frequently enough to really give Tommy a reason to call him out on it, though Buck finds it telling that he never does. It’s obviously having some effect on him, albeit a silent one: high color rising in Tommy’s cheeks, his eyes casting quickly down and away. 

Buck waits for the right moment to really set the hook and see what he can draw out; it’s just chance that that perfect moment happens to be when they’re naked in bed. 

Tommy’s legs are hooked around his waist and his fingertips are digging white crescents into Buck’s biceps where he’s gripping him like he’s holding on for dear life. His eyes keep circling down to where Buck is spreading him open then back up to catch Buck’s gaze like a closed circuit.

The cling of Tommy’s body is slick and sweet, and he looks up at Buck like Buck's giving him everything he wants and he can’t quite believe how good it is. His eyelids droop like he’s struggling to keep them open and Buck swoops down to capture Tommy’s mouth in a kiss. Tommy moans into it and Buck can feel where his cock is kicking insistently against his stomach, wet and hot to the touch. Buck curls a fist around it, stroking him from base to tip and watches the way his eyelashes flutter and his mouth drops open in silent pleasure. 

Tommy’s other hand slips from Buck’s biceps to his back when Buck dislodges it so he can brace himself on one arm, get a little closer, suck wet kisses into the razor edge of Tommy’s jawline. He slows their rhythm down a little, grinding in with deep swivels of his hips. Tommy’s knees pinch tight at Buck’s sides and he manages to pry his eyes open just enough to sweep his gaze down to where Buck’s stroking him and his rim is stretched nice and slick and pink around Buck’s cock, and back up again. His pupils are blown wide and his hands twitch on Buck’s lower back, slipping down to the meat of his ass, pawing at him, pulling him in–

“You're going to come aren’t you? I can feel it,” he says right in Tommy’s ear. 

“Evan–” Tommy cuts himself off on a moan, his nails dig a little deeper into Buck’s skin, and Buck barely feels it; all of his attention narrowed down to jacking Tommy off and fucking into him at the angle that makes get all tight and twitchy, his muscle tensing up, panting all hot and heavy against Buck’s temple. 

“Common, I want you to,” Buck says, flicking his wrist tight and fast at the head in the way he knows will finish Tommy off quick. “Tommy–Baby–Let me feel it.”

Tommy’s brow crumples and Buck gets to feel the pulse of his heartbeat in his hand and around his cock as Tommy comes undone, slicking his chest with thick, white streaks. 

Buck presses his face into the damp crescent of Tommy’s neck and rabbits his final few strokes into the hot clutch of Tommy’s ass. He can taste the salt on Tommy’s skin as he groans against it, rolling his hips indulgently as his cock softens. 

Tommy strokes his back as he pulls away, arm falling to the side as Buck gets up to ditch the condom. He’s staring up at the pebbly stucco of the bedroom ceiling when Buck returns to bed. “No one’s ever called me that,” he says quietly, contemplatively. 

Buck shuffles closer till he’s pressed up along his side, draping an arm over Tommy’s midsection to anchor himself. Buck finds that hard to believe. He can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t want Tommy to be their baby, but he’s glad he’s Buck’s.

“Well, it’s only fair that I’m your first for something too.”

Tommy rolls his head to the side, a dopey smile on his face. He looks fucked stupid and Buck feels unbearably fond about it. 

“Sweet talker,” Tommy accuses softly, hooking two fingers under Buck’s chin and pulling him into a kiss. 

Yeah, Buck thinks, I like the sound of that.

[writtenwhalien]

a lover's redemption | chapter 3

chapter 3. the new normal

pairing ↠ mafia leader!park jimin x reader

genre ↠ mafia AU — romance/action (angst, fluff, smut)

summary ↠ Blood, business and betrayal is all that Park Jimin has ever known, but when you cross paths again, the stakes are raised even higher and he finds himself battling his conscience, and his heart.

word count ↠ 13.3k

18+ | warnings ↠ drinking, explicit sexual content, violence, all sorts of crime (please see the series masterlist for a complete list of warnings).

taglist is open – dm/comment/send an ask to be added <3

notes ↠ please enjoy and shareeeee xxoxoxox and pls share your thoughts w me as we get into it ;) also in case its not clear, jimin's birth year in the fic is 1995, same as real life, and Y/N is 2 years younger than him. I always put the year for any flashbacks so you can work out how old they are :) any confusion, please let me know (i might make a mistake!) thanks angels! <3

17th July 2009

The heavy scent of cigar smoke lingered in the room, curling around the dark oak furniture. Jimin sat quietly beside his father, his small legs barely brushing the floor. Across from them, Lee Han-Jae exhaled a long puff of his cigar, looking tired.

“They confirmed the crash?” Jihoon asked, his tone devoid of warmth.

Jimin did not know what accident his uncle and father had planned but he knew that his father had been on edge all day because of it.

Han-Jae nodded. “Mostly. But he's gone.” He downed what was left of his drink. “Did we take care of the family?”

Jihoon swirls his glass. “We’ll let them go, they have no one.”

“Except Kija and Min-Baek-hyun,” Han-jae counters.

“They mean nothing to us.”

“But they were loyal to Sehun.”

Upon hearing this, Jimin went still, realising what’s happened. 

“Their loyalty was not just to Sehun but the entire Han family. They will protect them at all costs and they’ve been in this long enough to know not to retaliate if they want to keep themselves safe.”

Han-Jae said nothing else of the matter but his face did little to mask his disapproval. He took another puff of his cigar before he spoke again. “The other two men survived. Escaped before the flames could finish the job. They’re digging through the wreckage, but the police are sniffing around."It seems dental records are proving... inconvenient.”

Jihoon’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. “Inconvenient?” he echoed. “The detectives are a problem?”

Han-Jae waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Funny,” Jihoon said, leaning forward slightly. “You said the same thing about the last case they opened. And now I hear whispers about them building something bigger — trafficking charges. Another detective’s on the case, isn’t he?” His tone sharpened. “You’ve been careless, Han-Jae.”

The room tensed, the air thick with unsaid threats. Han-Jae stiffened, his smirk faltering for the briefest moment. “Watch your tongue, Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s lip curled. “You’ve been playing dirty, using our resources to fund your side business."

Han-Jae remained indifferent. "You'll be asking for a share soon. All the pieces are almost complete and this detective is nothing more than a bump in the road. I'll deal with it."

"That's besides the point. I trusted you and you're acting foolishly."

"Foolishly?"

"Is it not?" Jihoon asked, patronising.

Jimin watched as Han-Jae got up wordlessly and walked over to his cabinet. He picked up the decanter and generously poured himself some whiskey.

“I’ve given you more than enough leash,” Jihoon continued, his voice rising. “But if you think I’ll let you drag my name down with yours, think again.”

Han-Jae emptied his glass before he turned, his face a mask of fury. “We’ll talk about this later,” he spat. “We have somewhere to be.”

Jihoon didn’t bother responding. Instead, he turned his attention to Jimin, his gaze cold and commanding. “Get a gun.”

Jimin froze, his blood turning to ice. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Now,” Jihoon snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut. "Then meet me by the car."

Jihoon left the room and Jimin followed, his legs moving before his mind could catch up. He went towards the basement, down the stairs and past the training floor, all the way to the locked room at the back. Some of his father's men watched as he walked, but none said a word. Hands trembling, he pressed his thumb to the scanner and waited for the door to unlock, revealing an entire array of weapons lining the walls.

Jimin didn't think. He picked up the first handgun he saw, checked it was loaded and then walked out with the cold metal feeling alien in his grasp, the weight far heavier than he anticipated.

Without realising it, his feet carried him to the kitchen, where his mother stood slicing vegetables. She turned at the sound of his shaky breathing, her eyes immediately softening when she saw the gun in his hands.

“Jimin,” she whispered, crossing the room in an instant. She crouched down in front of him, pulling him into a gentle hug. The faint scent of lavender filled his nose, momentarily drowning out the suffocating reality around him.

“I can’t,” he mumbled against her shoulder. “I can’t do it.”

His mother’s embrace tightened. “I never wanted this for you, Jimin,” she murmured, her voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry.” She pulled back, brushing his hair from his face with trembling fingers. “But this is your life now. Your father won’t wait. If you don’t go back, he’ll only get angrier.”

Jimin shook his head. “Why do you let him—” His voice broke off and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"I'm so sorry." Her face crumpled, but she quickly composed herself and closed his fingers around the gun. “You have to go now, before he comes looking for you.”

Reluctantly, he nodded, his small frame trembling as she kissed his forehead and guided him toward the door.

The container yard smelled of damp concrete and iron, the air thick and stifling. As Jimin stepped out of the car, he immediately spotted Kwan and Duri ahead of them. 

Jihoon and Han-Jae walked ahead while Taemin and Jimin followed behind. As they went further into the yard, around a dark corner, Jimin glanced at Taemin, hoping for some kind of answer. Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a reassuring smile of sorts when Jimin glanced his way, but it did little to make him feel better. Jimin figured he knew where they were going since he and his dad spoke often.

Duri pulled the heavy door of one of the containers open as they approached and both fathers stopped short outside of the container. Han-Jae laughed mirthlessly and they both stepped aside for Jimin and Taemin to see.

Two detectives knelt on the floor, their faces bloodied and swollen, their hands tied tightly behind their backs.

Suddenly, the dead weight of the gun in his hand felt heavy again.

Jihoon glanced over his shoulder. “Stay here,” he ordered both boys.

Taemin, barely older than Jimin, gave a solemn nod but said nothing.

Jihoon stepped into the container, and crouched in front of one of the detectives, his voice low but menacing. “I warned you to stay out of my business. But now, you’re here. What do you have to say for yourself?”

The detective spat at Jihoon’s feet, earning himself a sharp backhand. Jihoon stood, motioning to Jimin. “Come here.”

Jimin hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Now, Jimin."

Taemin looked between them and gently nudged Jimin forward. "Go on," he whispered.

Reluctantly, Jimin got closer, his eyes glued to the ground.

"This man is a threat to us,” Jihoon said, calmly. “End him.”

Jimin’s breath hitched. “I-I can’t—”

Jihoon’s hand lashed out, striking him hard enough to send him stumbling. “You’re weak,” he snarled, stepping close to Jimin and speaking low in his ear. “Your mother’s made you soft.”

Jimin’s head snapped up and he ignored the harsh stinging sensation on his cheek. “Is that why you always send her away?” he asked, teeth gritted. “To keep her away from me?”

Jihoon froze, his face darkening. For a moment, Jimin thought he might strike him again. But instead, Jihoon looked right at Jimin and spoke, his voice icy. “She chooses to leave. Every time she walks out that door, it’s her choice. And it’s time you grew up and realised that.”

Jimin’s grip on the gun tightened, his knuckles white. He didn't look at the man before him but raised his arm, finger closing around the trigger. "You're right," Jimin said, voice low. "It is time I grew up."

The gunshot echoed through the warehouse, the sound ringing in Jimin’s ears long after the man’s body hit the floor.

Jihoon’s voice cut through the haze. “Finally.”

But Jimin didn’t hear him. All he could see was the blood, pooling and spreading across the cold concrete. All he could feel was the weight of his father’s shadow, pressing down on him, suffocating him.

Jihoon glanced at Han-Jae, his lip curling in irritation. “You deal with the other one.”

Han-Jae smiled thinly, his hand settling on Taemin’s shoulder. “Go on, son.”

Taemin hesitated, his youthful face pale under the dim light of the yard's lights. He glanced at Jimin, whose expression was frozen in a mix of horror and detachment, and then back at his father.

Han-Jae’s smile faded. “Do you want to disappoint me?”

The weight of that question hung heavy in the air, and Taemin swallowed hard, but slowly, he stepped forward.

The second detective, bloodied and trembling, began to plead incoherently, his words dissolving into a sob.

Jimin’s stomach churned violently. He couldn’t bear to watch as Taemin raised the gun with far steadier hands than his own, nor could he endure the suffocating tension of the warehouse any longer. His voice was hoarse as he muttered, “I’m going to the car.”

Jihoon turned his head slightly but didn’t object. “Fine. Go.”

The indifference in his father’s voice stung more than any reprimand. Jimin moved toward the exit, his legs unsteady but quickening with each step.

The sound of the gunshot rang out just as he stepped out of the container, the echo chasing him into the night.

The air outside was still warm despite it being well past midnight. Jimin usually loved late summer nights like this but not today. As he walked around the bend, he felt more hot, and the humidity worsened the thick, suffocating tension inside.

He made it only a few steps further before his stomach betrayed him. Rushing over towards a stack of crates, he retched violently. The contents of his dinner surged upwards and all Jimin could hope was that he was far away enough from his dad.

His throat burned, and his body trembled as he leaned a hand against the cold metal for support.

When the heaving subsided, the silence around him felt deafening. His mind was a storm of guilt and revulsion. He could still see the detective’s lifeless eyes in his mind, and worse, as he still held the gun now, he kept imagining his finger was still around the trigger.

“This is your life now,” his mother’s voice echoed in his head, her words a hollow comfort against the growing ache in his chest.

His throat tightened, and for a brief moment, he felt the urge to cry. But the tears didn’t come. They couldn’t — not here, not now. He took a deep breath, forcing air into his lungs until the sharpness of it dulled his emotions. He repeated the motion over and over, steadying himself, quieting the chaos within.

Jimin wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and straightened up. His legs felt heavier than before as he trudged toward the car, but by the time he reached it, his breaths had evened out, and his face was expressionless once more.

Sliding into the back seat, he leaned his head against the window and the chill of the glass grounded him.

As he sat there in silence, the weight of his actions settled like stones in his chest, and he knew this wouldn't be the last time.

Present day

It takes you a while to come to your senses, your fuzzy mind drifting in and out of sleep, telling yourself that you’re dreaming every time your eyes half open to see the surroundings of a room which isn’t yours. Your head sinks back into the feather filled pillow, your breathing is slow and steady and you remain completely still as you wait to wake up in your own bed, in your own home.

But it doesn’t happen. 

As you start to focus on the feeling of your chest rising and falling with each breath, your eyes flutter open fully and everything comes rushing back to you. Seojun lying helplessly on your kitchen floor, Minjun and the men flooding your kitchen, Dani and Siho dying to protect you. And Jimin.

The thought of it all hurts your head, and you push the thoughts down, focusing on something else for now. You have many questions and you’ll make sure to get answers, but right now, one thing you’re sure of, is that you’re safe. 

Looking around the room you’re in, you faintly recognise the large wooden doors and particular coving style on the walls. You spent more than a few days running around the halls of this estate, hiding and playing in the rooms belonging to the boy you were once friends with — now the man who saved your life…

It hasn’t escaped you, that had Jimin and his men not walked in when they did, Minjun would’ve killed you after he got whatever information he needed from you. 

You’ve never forgotten him, and now it seems like an odd sort of fate that you’ve ended up entangled in some kind of mess with him, thanks to Seojun. 

There’s definitely something going on, because there must’ve been a reason why Seojun was in your house, why he spent those late evenings at the cafe just trying to have a conversation with you. 

Looking next to you on the nightstand, you see your phone and purse, as well as a few of the other items you had in your pocket and your first thought is to call Yoongi. Whatever’s going on, you need to tell him and he might know something too. 

There’s also a small bowl of fresh fruit on the nightstand and a bottle of water — a small reminder that you’re safe here. 

As you reach for your phone, you feel a mild throbbing pain in your wrist. You almost forgot that Minjun cut you, but the wound is neatly bandaged now. Pushing the sheets back, you look down at your thigh to see it’s also been bandaged and you’re almost certain you’ll find stitches under there. You’re also wearing clothes that aren’t yours — a loose tee and baggy basketball shorts. You don’t remember anything since falling unconscious but you’re sure one of the housemaids must’ve dressed you.

Reaching for your phone again, you expect to see a call from your grandma since she normally calls you every morning, but your home screen shows no notifications except the many security camera notifications which you’re sure must show the events that took place at your home – you might be able to use it to identify a few of the men who were there, Yoongi certainly would be able to help you with that. 

Unlocking your phone, you open up your contacts and scroll through to find Yoongi’s name. Just before you can press call, there’s a knock at the door. Pausing, you look up and a few seconds later, the handle turns slowly. 

A slim man enters the room, dressed sharply head to toe in a suit… Your eyes widen, and suddenly, everything makes sense.

“Yoongi.” 

He smiles, though somewhat apologetically.”Y/N.” Walking over to your bed, he doesn’t hesitate to pull up the chair that sits in front of the dressing table and bring it beside your bed. While your thoughts race, Yoongi sits quietly and waits.

He’s been working for Jimin, of course he has – his dad was close with yours and Jimin, and after your father’s death, his dad, Min Baek-hyun, stayed close with your grandparents and still resides close to your grandma in Namwon, while Yoongi stayed in Seoul. All these years, you’ve stayed close friends with Yoongi, not knowing he was so close with Jimin too – someone you once considered a best friend.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” you ask finally.

“I didn’t want to complicate things,” he murmurs, looking up. As soon as you meet his gaze, you know what he means by that… 

You still remember that night, a few months ago, when Yoongi asked you to take out the Cheong men at the warehouse holding the drugs. For the first time, you asked for something in return – for him to help you find who killed your dad. It was the fact that he looked away as soon as you said the words that told you he already knew. 

 “I need something in return.”

Yoongi lifted his head calmly. “Is everything okay?”

You nodded, placing the key down on the table. “Just, promise me you’ll do it first.”

At this, Yoongi’s expression changed to one of concern and he hesitated. 

Meeting his gaze, you said his name. “Please.”

“Alright.” Yoongi shifted, keeping his eyes on you. “I promise.”

There was a moment of silence as you mulled the words over in your head. It had been on your mind for a while, something you’d been considering often for the last few months, since you passed what would’ve been your father’s fifty fifth birthday. Not a day had gone by that you didn't miss him, and you’d known since his death that the last place he was called to, wasn’t a timely coincidence. You may have only been 12 at the time of his death, but your father always taught you to be aware of everything, and you’d noticed the tension between him and his friends for months before that night. Even the fact that you hadn’t seen Jimin in years, and the way Jihoon always disregarded your presence – that is before your father limited their visits to your family home. He was trying to protect you from them.

“I want to know who killed my dad.” 

The words felt strange on your tongue – though your dad’s murder wasn’t a secret to you, you didn’t often speak about it so forwardly, especially not to Yoongi. 

Concern returned to the lines in his face, brows furrowing as he shook his head and reached for your hand. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

You moved your hand from the table before he could hold it. “You know.”

He paused, eyes flitting down to where your hand was. Releasing a slow sigh, he closed his eyes. “And I think you already know.”

The anger and frustration you’d been holding on to for years began to surface.“It was them, wasn’t it?”

Yoongi looked up. “Y/N–”

“Lee Han-jae? And Park Jihoon?”

Yoongi gave the smallest of nods, and your fist curled in your lap. 

“Do you know why?”

“Y/N, please, don’t–”

“You promised, Yoongi.”

Meeting your gaze, Yoongi sighed. “Alright, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

“Everything.”

So he did…

Na Doyun was a corrupt prosecutor who worked for the Lee’s, keeping them out of trouble as long as they paid her well enough. It was the perfect deal until some of the DA became suspicious of Doyun’s intentions and motivations, and she panicked, demanding more money, as well as a way for her to launder all the funds she was receiving. 

The Lee’s had no choice but to comply since she had enough dirt on them to put them away for life, (as well as a supposed contingency plan that would expose them should they try anything to harm her), and so Han-jae developed a nightclub under his name and added Doyun as a majority shareholder, as well as a few others under his influence. It became one of the most popular nightclubs in all of Seoul and the perfect place for any illicit activity,

“The one that closed down months ago?” you asked, vaguely remembering. You were sure you'd followed more than a few unsuspecting victims of Yoongi’s from there on one of your errands for him..

“Yes. They have a few all over Seoul but none as big as that one. And you remember Taemin?”

“Lee’s son?”

“Yes.”

You barely saw Lee Taemin growing up. Though he was close in age to Jimin and you, his father had sent him to school in the United States. There were a few occasions where you were there together but unlike Jimin, he barely spared you more than a glance. 

“Closing the club was intentional on their part. Han-jae wanted Taemin to replace it with something much bigger and better.”

“The Benitoite.”

Yoongi nodded. “A clever move on his part. The nightclub was becoming a hot spot and that was risky for them. After years of illegal trading, predatory lending and more, they had to find a way to get rid of any liabilities who used to frequent the club for their own gain, and with the Benitoite, they got the DA off their backs while attracting a whole new world, as well as another way to make their money clean again.” Looking up, Yoongi carried on. “Once that was done, Doyun had nothing left to hold over them.”

“They killed her?”

Another nod.

Your hand tightened around the fob. You couldn’t say you felt bad for the woman, she was corrupt after all and served men doing worse than herself, but it still didn’t make any of this easier to hear.

Yoongi sighed, his hand moving towards yours. “You okay?”

“Fine. Tell me.”

“When that nightclub before the Benitoite first opened, your dad wasn’t opposed to it so he never said anything. But, Jihoon or Han-jae weren’t just abiding by what Doyun wanted, they both saw an opportunity and wanted to run part of the nightclub as a secret brothel for invited guests only, those who would pay enough.”

Yoongi looked up apprehensively, but he saw your expression and continued.

“They knew anyone who knew of them, or had any kind of business with them, feared them, so they used that. If there was anyone who had done them wrong, or owed them money, they offered them a way out.  Hundreds and millions worth of debt in exchange for years of service, and they didn’t care who it was. 

“A mother, father, son, daughter, brother or sister. Any relation to the person who owed them was good enough and as you can imagine, none of the actual offenders offered themselves so it was all innocent family members being taken in. They would kidnap them and coerce them into working there doing whatever it was that needed to be done too. The whole thing was set up as a way for them to earn honest money to pay back whatever was owed.”

You looked up, repulsed. These are the men you once regarded as your uncles, seeing them as your dad’s friends you thought of them as family while growing up. It’s true that as you got older, you started to feel a certain way towards Jihoon because of how cold he was, especially with Jimin, but this was still beyond anything you would’ve expected of them.

“So that’s why they killed my dad?” 

Yoongi shook his head. “Not exactly.” Pausing, he studied your expression for a few seconds before he leaned over the table to grasp your hand. After a gentle squeeze, he let go. “There was a lot happening around that time, I don’t know the details but the way Han-jae and Jihoon saw it, is that your dad became soft. When he first found out about the nightclub he was angry and threatened both of them.”

Your stomach curled.

“They wanted to appease him so they said they would reconsider.”

“But they didn’t.”

“No. And truthfully I don’t think your dad ever believed them anyway.”

It went quiet, the distant humming of car engines along a nearby busy road carried the sound of your thoughts as they ran endlessly. 

Yoongi took another sip of his milk, watching you carefully. “Y/N,” he spoke softly. “I can tell you the rest another time.”

You looked across at home, taking a slow breath. You do feel like you’ve heard enough, but you need to know. “What more is there? They killed him after that, no?”

Traces of a grimace appeared on Yoongi’s face. “Not quite.” He paused, waiting. 

Wordlessly, you nodded for him to continue. 

“Did you know Han-jae was married twice?”

Nodding, you remembered his step-daughter, Jiyoung. She looked after you occasionally, but like Taemin, she wasn’t always there. “Yeah, his first wife passed away but Jiyoung was from her, right?”

“Not exactly, Jiyoung wasn’t Han-jae’s daughter.” 

Now, this was news to you. 

“And her mom wasn’t a huge fan of Han-jae, their marriage was arranged after her first husband died, and she had plenty of reasons to dislike the man and he felt the same, except she always threatened to expose him.” 

The arranged marriage wasn’t a surprise to you, as it was common amongst many of your father’s affluent friends, including your own parents, but you hadn’t known that Han-jae’s first wife despised him. 

“After she died, Jiyoung got older, she looked more like her mother, acted more like her, and Han-jae didn’t like her just as much as she didn’t like him, so…  he saw an opportunity to get rid of her.”

Eyes widening, you asked, “The nightclub?”

Yoongi nodded, looking down. “But your dad saved her.”

Despite the warm evening breeze, you feel your skin go cold.

Yoongi continues. “He knew something was going on and he happened to be there the night she was being taken. He killed the men and took her away to a safe place, out of the country.”

And just like that, it all made sense. “So that’s why they killed him.”

Taking your hand again, Yoongi nodded silently. “It was a means to an end for them,” he murmured. “Han-jae and Jihoon had changed. They weren’t who your dad befriended and their morals and ambitions were far from the same.”

Yoongi’s words were said to comfort you, but they only fueled your anger… your dad’s closest friends, the men who he regarded as brothers, were the ones who killed him.

That conversation felt like a lifetime ago, and as you see Yoongi sitting in front of you now, you understand why he chose not to tell you, but you can’t help but feel a tiny bit betrayed.

“Still could’ve told me,” you mumble, looking away from him.

“Would it have made a difference to anything?” he asks, leaning forward with a playful smile. 

Realising he’s right, you frown indignantly. “Might’ve stopped this,” you say, knowing it’s a weak point.

Yoongi’s expression darkens. Shaking his head slowly, he meets your gaze. “Nothing could’ve stopped this.”

Seojun is the first person that comes to your mind, and you feel your stomach coil. 

Reaching to hold your leg over the covers, Yoongi says your name. “You need to tell me everything you know.”

Nodding, you push the mental image of Seojun out of your mind. “I don’t actually know much,” you start, “Seojun had been coming into the cafe around once a week and would talk to me, just small talk. He must’ve known who I was but I didn’t realise until the last time. He seemed worried about something and kept asking me about grandma, and when she called, he’d left and there was a note on the table.” Looking towards the night stand where your belongings are, you see the note you pocketed then, and the drive is there too. You take them both, handing the note to Yoongi.  “This is what it said.” 

Yoongi takes a few seconds to read the simple words, She’s the only family you have left. You should stay with her. Frowning, Yoongi lowers it to the bed. “He must’ve known, but I don’t know how.” Looking up, he asks, “you never told him anything about your grandma?” 

“No,” you shake your head. “He just knew.” Thinking of this, you suddenly remember all those conversations you had with Seojun… he had a girlfriend. “Yoongi?” You meet his gaze with worried eyes. “He had a girlfriend.”

Yoongi’s expression softens, lips pursing. “Yeona. She knows. She lives here with us, she moved in with Seojun a year ago.”

Nodding your head slowly, you look away. You don’t bother asking how she’s doing, that would be a pointless question – you could tell how much Seojun loved her and from the stories he told you, you’re certain she loved him just as much, she must be heartbroken. The thought of it reminds you of the night your dad passed away… you’d never seen your mom in so much pain. 

As your emotions begin to swirl heavily again, you look up at Yoongi. “Did he not say anything at all about what he’d been doing?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “We knew he was up to something, but Jimin told us to let him be.” Again, Yoongi’s expression looks pained. 

“Why?”

“A few weeks back, Jimin had one of their clubs raided by the police on the same night they were receiving a weapons shipment and there’s since been a good few detectives on their case. Taemin’s uncle got some time in prison for it and even though he’s out, they still wanted to send a message to Jimin, a way to get back at him… so they killed Seojun’s mom.”  

The words wound the knot in your stomach even tighter. “So Seojun wanted to get back at them?”

Nodding, Yoongi shakes his head. “Jimin warned him not to, he promised they’d work it out together and end things for once, but Seojun was angry. Once we figured out he was up to something, Jimin told us to leave him and once Seojun had a plan, we’d join in on it.” Releasing a shaky breath, Yoongi looks down. “We never got to find out what it was, and each week we’d see him less and less. Everyone here knows how to look after themselves, but now I wish we’d taken more care.” 

Seojun was a friend to everyone here, Yoongi included, you realise. You know you ought to comfort him but you don’t think you know how. “I’m sorry, Yoongi,” you murmur. 

He gives a small smile. “Finish telling me what happened.”

Sitting back into the cushions again, you recall the events from that night. “I left work as normal, came home and when I went upstairs, something felt off. So I went back down, and then I saw him in my kitchen, he was bleeding, barely conscious on the floor and I ran over to him. I tried to help him but he kept apologising, and then he gave me this.” Looking down, you hand the drive to Yoongi.

Confused, Yoongi turns it over in his hand. “Did he say what’s on it?”

“No,” you shake your head. “And it’s probably protected too since the Lee’s wanted it as well. But he told me to take it and find Jimin.” At this, Yoongi looks up and meets your gaze. “He kept saying he’d keep me safe and that I should leave him and go.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t. He needed help, but it was too late. When I was about to get out, Minjun and some of his men came in. Seojun tried to help me but in the end…” you trail off, looking down. “In the end it was Minjun questioning me, asking me who I am. I lied, of course.” You finish telling Yoongi the rest of what happened, up until when Jimin and his men came in. 

When you’re done, Yoongi is cursing under his breath. “Minjun was a fucking psychopath.”

“Yeah, he seems like it,.” You remember the way he laughed when Jimin was punching him. 

“He has a brother, Kwan, he’s just as crazy, if not worse.”

The thought of it leaves you shuddering. Minjun was ruthless and you can’t imagine how much worse his brother is. You hope you never have to meet him, although luck hasn’t really been on your side recently.

“Hey,” Yoongi says quietly, moving from his seat to the bed. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you nod. 

He smiles softly. “Your wrist should be better in a few days, but your leg might take two or three weeks to heal well. I got you some crutches in case you wanna use them.” 

“Thanks, I probably won’t use them though.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.”

Smiling at him, you push the sheets back to look at your bound leg. “It’s not deep is it?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “You got lucky. Only an inch or so. Ah, also,” he looks up at you apologetically, “you’ll need to stay here for a while until your house gets fixed.” 

“Oh.” You remember how the windows were smashed in as Minjun attacked, and you’re sure there’s more damage to the property that you’re not even aware of. 

“Jimin is making all the arrangements,” Yoongi continues, “but he’s trying to keep things quiet so I don’t know exactly when things will be sorted.”

“He doesn’t have to, I can do it myself.”

“He wants to,” Yoongi responds. “He blames himself for what’s happened, so just let him please.” His words appear to carry more meaning, and you can’t imagine how he must feel after seeing Seojun dead. You still remember the look on his face when he saw the body.

“Why?”

“He blames himself for a lot of things,” Yoongi murmurs with a soft sigh. “This hasn’t helped.”

Even though it’s been years since you were close with Jimin, you still find yourself feeling a familiar twinge in your chest – ever since you’ve known him, Jimin has had to suffer so much hurt, you couldn’t even count on your hand the amount of times you saw him looking so defeated and terrified in front of his father. He seemed to prefer the company of Lee Han-jae over his own father, although you don’t know how much better Han-jae was as a father since his son, Taemin, was in America most of the time to study. All you know is how he treated Jiyoung.

Now, curiosity (or care) gets the better of you, and you ask, “What happened between them? Han-jae and Jihoon?”

Yoongi looks up, grimacing. “It started with money. Han-jae got greedy and wanted the Benitoite to be only his, but Jihoon insisted it belong to them both since the nightclub was half his effort, though he never really cared for the extra money, he just needed the front. Han-jae reluctantly agreed but it was clear he wasn’t happy. 

“And then Jihoon found out that Han-jae planned on going behind his back and he got angry. Han-jae was drunk one night and started threatening Jihoon, which only made him more angry. But before he could do anything, Taemin stepped in and shot him.”

“Taemin?!” you ask, surprised..

Yoongi nods. “He knew of his dad's plan for the Benitoite and he wasn’t fond of Jihoon, so he did what he had to to protect his dad. But Jimin was there.” His expression darkens. “He watched his best friend shoot his dad, who was bleeding out in front of him. I’m so grateful we were with him that day…” He trails off, exhaling as he looks down.

He doesn’t need to say anymore for you to know what he means – Taemin was going to have Jimin killed too. 

Your head lowers too. You don’t allow your thoughts to wonder what would’ve happened if Jimin had been alone, you’re just glad he got out. Though you can’t imagine what he must’ve felt given his relationship with Jihoon.

“Did he get to have a funeral for his dad?”

“Yeah,’ Yoongi answers. “Han-jae had just lost another one of his friends and the blood was on his hands, so he sent the body back to Jimin and tried to make amends, but Jimin wasn’t having it. He was already against everything they were doing and now that his dad had gone and he’d lost Taemin as a friend, he had no reason to keep ties with them.”

Leaning back into the cushions, you mull over everything he’s just said. For years, you stayed away from these families who were such a big part of your life growing up, and now you learn that they’ve fallen apart as well. 

After a moment, Yoongi speaks again. “I was surprised when they brought you in.” You look up at him as he continues. “I thought he might’ve recognised you, but he said nothing.”

“Do you think he does?” you ask, remembering the look on his face when he first saw you. “But he’s just not saying it?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Might be. If he does remember you though, he’ll say something.”

“Are you going to tell them?” you ask, looking at him.

“Only if you want me to.”

After a few quiet seconds, you shake your head. “At least not yet.”

Yoongi nods and it goes quiet again. You close your eyes, leaning against the headboard as you think back on everything that’s happened, and then it comes to you.

“Dani and Siho,” you say, opening your eyes again as a heavy weight settles on your chest. “Did you get them out?”

Solemnly, Yoongi nods. “I sent them back to their families and have offered to make all the necessary arrangements for anything else they need.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Let me know what they say, I’ll sort it out for them..”

Yoongi nods again, pursing his lips as this time he reaches forward to take your hand and comfort you. “They knew the risks, Y/N,  better than anyone else.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But it’s different, they were there because of me.”

“Yeah, but they made that choice, they wanted to fight for you,” Yoongi says, shifting on the bed. When you look at him, he winces slightly. “Sorry if this isn’t helping, you know I’m shit at comforting people.”

You smile. “I know.”

“Hey, you’re not any better though,” he says defensively, “you didn’t even hug me properly when my mom passed away.”

“What?” you chuckle. “I tried to, but I know you don’t like hugs.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Not normally, but then I would've liked it.”

“Oh…” Now you feel bad. “Really?”

He nods, only looking up at you when you fail to respond. Seeing your face, he smiles. “It’s okay though, I got lots of hugs from the guys here.”

Scoffing, you absentmindedly pull the covers over your legs again, feeling cold from the aircon. “Yeah, you’re telling me Park Jimin was giving out hugs?” It comes out sarcastically and without much thought.

“Yes, actually,” Yoongi answers simply. 

Pausing, you realise what you said and his response. You don’t know why you feel surprised when the Jimin you knew was nothing but caring and considerate towards others, oftentimes more than he was towards himself. 

As though he can read your mind, Yoongi smiles. “Surprised?”

“Kind of.”

“You knew him though,” he says, as though that makes it so obvious.

“Knew,” you repeat. “I didn’t expect him to still be the same.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. “I wouldn’t say he’s changed, but I wouldn't exactly say he’s the same either…” looking up, he smiles again. “I guess you’ll get to see for yourself now.”

“I guess so,” you say, reaching for an apple from the bowl beside you. Seeing Jimin again has been weird, but you can’t ignore the part of you that is ready to welcome a part of your old life back, someone familiar, someone you liked very much. Like Yoongi said though, you’ll get to see for yourself if he’s anything like you remember him. Although you were both younger then, you don’t think he would’ve changed much from what Yoongi has told you so far.

“D’you want something a bit more filling than that?” Yoongi asks, nodding to the apple you’ve just bitten into. “Dinner is just about to be served so you can come down to eat or I can bring it up for you?”

“Oh, yeah, actually,” you answer, hearing your stomach growl after receiving a tiny morsel of food. “I am quite hungry, so I think I'll come down.”

“Sure,” Yoongi chuckles, “you must be hungry, you’ve been sleeping for almost three days.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “Three days?!” When he nods, you immediately reach for your phone. “I need to call Moni, she’s probably wo–”

“I already have,” Yoongi says, interrupting you quietly.

Fingers freezing over her name, you look up at Yoongi. “What?”

“I already called her.”

A frown settles on your face. “What did you say?”

Yoongi has always been aware of your wish to keep everything hidden from your grandma, so he hesitates now, knowing this would be your response when he told you he called her. “Everything, but Y/N, she needed to know.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

“I know,” Yoongi sighs. “Sorry.”

For a moment, it goes quiet and you lower your phone to the covers. Yoongi is right, she did need to know about this, and it’s not like she’s a stranger to this kind of stuff. Besides, what happened wasn’t related to any of the stuff you’ve been doing for Yoongi, which is what you always wanted to keep from her, and what’s happening now does seem to involve you, and therefore her.

“Sorry,” you say. “You’re right, I just didn’t…” you sigh, trailing off as you think about how worried she must be. Your grandma is a strong woman and you’re everything to her, just as she has been yours. 

“I know,” Yoongi says, understanding what you mean without you saying it; he knows your grandma well enough too.

“What did she say?” 

“First, she just wanted to know if you were safe,” Yoongi answers. “After that, she didn’t say much except that she’ll come as soon as she can.”

You nod. Knowing she’s coming brings a smile to your face, you’ve missed her a lot. Before you can respond, your stomach growls again. 

“Come on,” Yoongi says smiling, getting up and pushing the covers back, “let’s get you some food.”

“You still remember it?” Yoongi asks, a tone of surprise in his voice.

Taking another step, you shrug. “I wasn’t that little when I was last here, I must’ve been, what, eleven? Twelve?” 

“Hm, Yoongi hums. “Still impressive.” He keeps a hand hovering around you should you need him, but you’re doing just fine, walking slowly down the hall you recognise as being the third floor.

The Park Estate isn’t much different from what you remember. The estate sprawled across acres, is a masterfully designed blend of elegance and practicality. The entrance opens to a grand foyer, splitting into two distinct wings. The East Wing houses the biggest office which used to belong to Jihoon, and now you assume it would be Jimin’s. It’s flanked by a suite of offices, all of which are bathed in polished woods and leather tones, belonging to his closest men. The West Wing, larger and more personal, feels more like a home. It rises three floors (taking the space above the East Wing) to accommodate the family’s quarter’s on the top most floor, a lounge and other rooms on the second, and downstairs is a dining room, a sleek kitchen caters to formal gatherings and another lounge. 

Yoongi points out his room as you pass it, as well as naming some of the other guys whose names you try to pay attention to as you ignore the mild pain that spreads through your leg. 

As you approach the stairwell, you notice another dimly lit corridor leading off the main hallway. You can’t see anything down the corridor as you pass, only a wall with light coming from the left and you assume it continues on. 

“Jimin’s room is down there,” he says, answering your unspoken question.

“Ah,” you nod, carrying on. It makes sense for his room to be separate from the rest.

The second floor has a few extra guest bedrooms which are rarely used, and a private lounge which is different to what you remember, with a huge balcony that overlooks the gardens and the furniture has changed from mostly dark colours to a much warmer colour palette.

Downstairs, the split between the East Wing, and the West Wing is much more noticeable. The entrance to the West Wing from the grand foyer is always guarded and behind is a much more private hallway with more guards at the end for extra security, and the only way to go upstairs is from the two staircases within the West Wing. The staircase you’re approaching now takes you downstairs where the kitchen is. 

As you approach the stairwell, you freeze, your eyes landing on a painting hung up on the wall at the far end of the hall. Yoongi says your name as you begin to walk towards it, but you don’t respond as an old memory suddenly returns to your mind, from the night your father was murdered.

“Lightning…  is it a storm?” you asked, standing next to your dad in front of the easel. 

“Yes,” he said, ruffling your hair with his elbow as his hands were smudged with paint. 

“What does it mean?”

“Sometimes it can mean power,” he answered, turning back to the canvas in front of him. “But sometimes it can also mean punishment.”

You looked up, frowning.

He smiled. “Sometimes, too much power isn’t a good thing. If you’re not a good person, then it can be dangerous.”

“Oh…” You looked back at the canvas, admiring the deep shades of blue and black and grey he’d used to paint the night sky.  In the centre, a spear of light struck the violent waves of the sea below. “Who is it for?” you asked.

Your dad’s smile disappeared as he looked back at the canvas. “An old friend.”

The painting is just as vivid as you remember, and seeing it now brings tears to your eyes as you feel a bout of nostalgia. 

“My dad painted this,” you say quietly as Yoongi joins you in front of the huge canvas. 

He doesn’t say anything, but instead looks up at the painting, admiring it in its entirety as though he’s never seen it before. “It’s beautiful.”

Nodding, you blink a few times to get rid of the stinging sensation in your eyes.. You realise now that Park Jihoon was the old friend your dad mentioned; realising he called him an ‘old friend’, you know your father must’ve known in those months leading up to his death that he couldn’t trust Han-jae and Jihoon.

Just then, Yoongi’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Reading a text, he quickly excuses himself. “Come down if you can, or I’ll ask someone to come up,” he calls out as he’s already walking off towards the stairwell.

“Okay,” you answer absentmindedly, still looking at the painting.

It’s not often you allow yourself to dwell on the past, but it’s also not often that you find yourself face to face with things that remind you so much of the past. There’s a reason your grandma decided to leave Seoul all those years ago and it’s a decision you agreed with. Even when you moved back to Seoul, you knew you couldn’t return to your old home, not when all you had there was fond memories of a life that was so unfamiliar to you now. But now, standing in front of your father’s own hand painted work, a flood of memories return and you find it harder to fight the lump that settles stubbornly in your throat.

You don’t realise you’re standing there for long until you hear someone approaching behind you. Turning around, you recognise the man approaching you as one of the ones who were with Jimin that night at your home. He smiles as he comes to a stop beside you.

“Admiring the art?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you hum, still watching his face – you didn’t realise then but now you see just how handsome he is, you feel like you can’t stop staring. 

He chuckles, glancing at the painting. “You know I was talking about the painting, not me?”

Shaking out of your daze, you smile. “Yes, sorry. I just recognised you from the other night.”

“Ah, yeah, sorry we had to meet in such a way,” he nods, still smiling. “I’m Seokjin, but call me Jin.” He extends his hand which you shake.

“Y/N, and it’s okay, not your fault.”

“How’s the wrist?” he asks, pointing to your wrist.

“Oh, it’s okay,” you answer, lifting your arm for him to see. You can still move your fingers fine, just the occasional stretch or twist of your wrist hurts. 

“Good. And the leg?”

“It’s mostly fine,” you nod.

He smiles again. “That’s good. Your wrist will heal fast, the leg might take a few weeks but it’s looking good so far. I didn’t expect you to be up so soon though,” he adds, raising a brow as though impressed.

You shrug.

 “I take it this isn’t your first time getting hurt like this?” Seokjin says casually.

 “What makes you think that?”

“You didn’t flinch that night, when we all aimed our guns at you. And the way you handled your own gun…” he shakes his head, smiling. “It definitely wasn’t your first time, and no normal person would point their gun at a mafioso at that.”

Chuckling, you turn back towards the painting again.  “I guess I like getting shot at.”

“Just like everyone else here,” he laughs. “Well, you must be hungry, Yoongi asked me to walk down with you.”

“Sure,” you nod, turning away from the painting. You can return to it later. “So what about you?” you ask Seokjin as you approach the stairwell. 

He watches carefully as you descend the first few steps. “What about me?” 

“This definitely isn’t your first time stitching someone up,” you remark. 

“Ah,” he nods. “Definitely not.”

You have to pause, reaching out for the banister to continue on. “So you’re a doctor?” 

He snorts, stepping along beside you. “No, but I should be. I’ve done this kind of stuff enough times.”

Smiling, you know his statement is true enough. Injuries like yours must be a regular occurrence in the Park household. Stepping onto the landing, you take a breather and sit on the bottom step for a moment before you continue on. At the same time, you hear hurried footsteps running towards you and Seokjin. 

“Jin hyung!” A bubbly voice sounds from down the corridor. You look towards the source and see two men who you recognise from that night – the man bun guy and the slender brown haired one behind him. They can’t see you sitting on the bottom step but as they get closer, Jin nods in your direction, turning their attention to you. 

They both smile warmly when they see you, bowing their heads. 

“Oh, miss L/N,” the first one comes forward, extending a hand. “I’m Jungkook, nice to meet you.” He has an adorable bunny smile and you can’t help but return it with one of your own. 

“Nice to meet you Jungkook,” you reply, shaking his hand. “And you can call me Y/N.”

“Y/N, got it,” he nods, taking a step back so his other friend can greet you properly. 

“Hi, Y/N,  I’m Hoseok, Hobi for short,” he grins, shaking your hand. 

“Hey.” You return his handshake, feeling slightly taken aback by how relaxed these guys are compared to their stoic looks from when you first saw them. Jungkook looks like a bunny rabbit in human form, and Hoseok beams like a ray of sunshine. 

“How are you feeling?” Hoseok asks, motioning towards your leg. 

“Um, it’s okay,” you smile. “I can still walk at least.”

He smiles with you, helping you as you start to get up. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

You hum in response, allowing Seokjin to continue walking beside you as Jungkook walks ahead, leading you to the extensive lounge. 

Distractedly, you look around the familiar room. The coffee table you’re sitting at is still the same as it was when you used to have extra helpings of dessert with Jimin, secretly given to you by the housemaid who had a soft spot for Jimin. Being here reminds you so much of your father too, and knowing how much of a huge part of his life this family was makes you miss him dearly. 

Before any of the guys notice you’re not tuned into the conversation, you return your attention to what they’re saying. It hasn’t escaped you that none of them have said anything about your identity, and you reckon it must be because Jimin hasn’t recognised you – if he did, surely he would’ve told these guys since they were there too. You’re not sure if they know anything at all about you – perhaps you should’ve asked Yoongi about that before you came down. 

Whether they know anything or not though, they keep the conversation away from anything that would involve you from sharing too much, and you realise now, how their warm smiles and easy conversation is a stark contrast to the tense memory you have of first meeting them the other day. However, there’s some missing.

“Are there more of you?” 

Jin, in the middle of swallowing a big sip of water, nods and hums. 

Hoseok answers for him. “There’s Yoongi, who you saw already, and Taehyung, Namjoon and Jimin.”

“They were there the other day,” Jungkook says, his tone dimming slightly. 

“Namjoon and Taehyung will be joining us,” Jin adds, ignoring the last comment and keeping up his chipper attitude. “We always eat together whenever we can and they’re about somewhere.” 

It doesn’t escape you that he didn’t mention Jimin’s name though.

“Taehyung is probably in the wine cellar,” Hoseok says.

“Ah, yes, Taehyung loves to pick out the wine for dinner.”

Jungkook snorts. “He thinks he’s a sommelier.”

You smile. “Well, does he make a good choice?”

“I can never tell,” Jungkook shrugs.

Hoseok jerks a thumb in his direction. “He’s not matured enough.”

“Hey!” Jungkook starts, but is interrupted by Jin, glancing toward the doorway.

“Ah, speak of the devil!” 

You look up and see two more men entering. One has dark curls and sharp features, his posture relaxed but his gaze calculating as it sweeps over the room. The other one has dark grey hair and broad shoulders, wearing glasses that give him a sophisticated air. You recognise both of them from the other day.

“Yoongi said you’d come down,” the man with dark curls remarks as he approaches. His tone is calm, and a slight smile plays on his lips. “I’m Taehyung. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Hi, Taehyung,” you reply, shaking his hand. His grip is firm but not overbearing. He’s undeniably striking, and there’s something about his presence that feels both inviting and enigmatic.

The broad man steps closer, adjusting his glasses as he nods at you. “I’m Namjoon. I handle most of the boring work around here.” His smile is disarming, and his voice carries a hint of dry humour. “Finances, logistics, making sure this place doesn’t fall apart.”

“Nice to meet you, Namjoon,” you say, shaking his hand. His words make you curious about just how much he handles behind the scenes.

Namjoon takes a seat in the armchair across from you and sinks into it comfortably. “How are you? I imagine this isn’t how you thought your day would go.”

You smile wryly, keeping your responses guarded. “Not exactly, no.”

Taehyung sits down next to Jungkook and returns his attention to you immediately. “Yeah, you put up quite the fight. Most people would’ve frozen in your position.”

“Not the first time I’ve had to defend myself,” you reply simply, not offering much else.

There’s a beat of silence as they all exchange glances, clearly intrigued but not pressing further. You appreciate the lack of prying.

“So,” Hoseok pipes up with an ever-cheerful tone. “Yoongi mentioned you might like spicy food. We had the chef prepare something special just in case.”

“Spicy works for me,” you say, grateful for the change in subject.

Jungkook claps his hands together. “Great! That makes two of us. The food here is amazing – you’ll love it.”

As the conversation shifts to lighter topics, you glance around the room again. The faces around the table are new, but the setting is steeped in nostalgia. Flashes of your childhood in this house flit through your mind – running down these halls, playing games late into the night, and the quiet presence of your father when he was here.

You force yourself to focus, tuning back into the conversation just as Seokjin asks, “So, Y/N, what’s your impression of the estate so far?”

“It’s... different,” you reply honestly, but keep your tone light. “Bigger than I remember.”

Seokjin tilts his head. “You’ve been here before?”

You curse yourself for slipping up but recover quickly. “Not this one exactly. Just a similar setup.”

Namjoon raises a brow but doesn’t say anything else, and you’re thankful for the reprieve.

The door from the far end of the room opens, and an older woman with an apron tied around her waist steps in, carrying a pitcher of water. Her hair is neatly pinned back, and her face is composed but kind. You immediately recognize her – Ara, one of the housemaids from your childhood.

Your eyes meet for a brief moment, and something flickers in her expression. She knows who you are. You’re certain of it. But to your surprise, she doesn’t say a word. Instead, she places the pitcher on the coffee table and begins pouring water into the glasses.

“Thanks, Ara,” Jungkook says warmly, and she nods with a small smile.

When she reaches you, she hesitates ever so slightly before pouring the water, her gaze lingering on you. You hold her gaze for a beat, searching her face for any sign that she might say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she finishes and steps back, her expression carefully neutral.

“If you need anything, let me know,” Ara says softly, glancing at the rest of the table before leaving the room.

Namjoon watches her leave, then turns back to you with a faint smile. “She’s been here for a long time. Reliable, like everyone else here.”

You nod, trying to mask the unease and nostalgia that her presence has stirred up.

On the opposite side of the room, Yoongi comes in from the corridor you came through. With a smile at you, he then nods at everyone. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat before Jungkook inhales the entire table.”

Jungkook laughs, not bothering to deny the accusation. Everyone rises from their seats, and Yoongi gestures for you to follow them to the adjoining dining room.

"Taeheyung, did you choose a bottle for dinner then?" Hoseok asks.

"Of course. It’s spicy food so I brought up a Riesling."

"Nice one," Yoongi murmurs in approval.

"I want a beer," Jungkook says, with no regards to Taehyung's expression.

"More for us then."

As you walk, Namjoon falls into step beside you. “You’ll find this place can be both a refuge and a maze,” he says softly. “It’s easy to get lost, but it has its charms.”

You glance at him, wondering if there’s a deeper meaning to his words. “I’ll try not to get lost, then.”

He smiles faintly. “If you do, just call out. Someone will find you.”

Returning the smile, you find that any uneasiness you'd been feeling, begins to dissipate. It’s clear these men, while different in personality, share a bond that goes beyond mere loyalty to Jimin. You can see why they’ve been by his side for so long – they feel like a family in their own right.

Once everyone is seated at the table, conversation flows more freely and the atmosphere is surprisingly warm. Jin sits at one end of the table, serving himself a generous helping of the roasted chicken and rice dish.

“Jin-hyung, don’t hog all the drumsticks,” Jungkook whines as he watches Jin’s plate pile up.

“Then grab faster,” Jin quips with a smirk, not slowing his pace.

Taehyung leans back with an amused grin, observing the chaos. “I’m telling you, Jungkook, he does this every time. You should know better by now.”

“Should I?” Jungkook huffs dramatically. “Maybe next time I’ll just take the whole plate first.”

“Do it, and I’ll poison your portion,” Jin deadpans, but with a twinkle in his eye.

Hoseok chuckles as he passes you the salad bowl. “Don’t worry, Y/N. They act like this every meal. You get used to it.”

You smile faintly, watching them banter. It’s strange to see these men, who just days ago were all sharp glares and deadly precision, behaving like siblings teasing each other.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Do you always eat so quietly? Or are you just plotting something?”

You blink at him, caught off guard. His face is serious, but his lips twitch with suppressed amusement.

“Maybe I’m just afraid to get between Jin and his drumsticks,” you reply lightly.

Laughter ripples around the table, and Taehyung raises his glass in salute. “Smart answer.”

Jungkook grins at you between bites of food. “Yeah, but next time, you should at least try to grab a piece before Jin wipes out the whole plate.”

“I heard that,” Jin retorts, mock-offended. “I’m ensuring quality control.”

“You’re ensuring there’s nothing left for the rest of us,” Hoseok counters, sipping his water.

As the banter continues, you allow yourself to relax a little. It’s a stark contrast to what you expected when you first woke up in the Park estate. 

“By the way, hyung,” Namjoon says, turning to Jin. “Have you checked the medical inventory reports? They were due yesterday.”

“Oh, are we doing shop talk at the table now?” Jin sighs dramatically. “Can’t a guy just eat in peace?”

“It’s your own fault for procrastinating,” Namjoon replies smoothly, adjusting his glasses.

“Don’t drag me into your world of schedules,” Jin retorts. “I’m a free spirit.”

“You’re just lazy,” Jungkook interjects, earning a flick of a bread roll from Jin.

“Enough guys,” Hoseok says, raising his hands in mock exasperation.

Namjoon’s phone buzzes on the table, followed immediately by Hoseok’s. They both glance at their screens, and their smiles fade slightly. Exchanging a look, they nod in unison before standing up.

“Sorry, something’s come up,” Namjoon says, sliding his phone into his pocket. “We’ll catch up later.”

“Don’t eat all the dessert without us,” Hoseok adds with a wink as they head out.

“Like we’d wait for you,” Jin calls after them before turning his attention back to the table.

“Do they always leave like that?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Pretty much,” Taehyung replies, leaning back in his chair. “They’ve got the busiest jobs out of all of us. It’s a miracle they even sit down for meals sometimes.”

“Or they just like to be mysterious,” Jin adds, rolling his eyes. “Half the time, it’s probably nothing.”

You smile, but you feel the weight behind it all. These men might act carefree, but there’s no denying the underlying layers to their lives.

After a while, another two housemaids quietly enter to clear some of the empty dishes.

“You okay?” Taehyung asks, drawing your attention back to the table. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

You nod, brushing it off. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Understandable,” Jin says, rising from his seat. “You should rest. Recovering from an injury takes time.”

The others murmur in agreement as they begin to disperse, leaving you with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. The warmth of their camaraderie is undeniable, but beneath it all, you can’t shake the feeling of what’s happened, and what is undoubtedly yet to come. 

Only Yoongi remains at the table. He sits across from you and smiles. “It’s bringing back memories, huh?” He asks, seeing right through you. 

“Yep.” You look around. “Loads. I don’t know how this might sound, but it feels like I missed it.” You look across at Yoongi, expecting to see a puzzled expression but he just smiles.

“I think it’s normal. You were young when you came here and I don’t think you have many bad memories associated with the place. Only good ones, right?”

He’s right. Back then, coming here usually meant evenings filled with laughter, hiding in closets with Jimin, and Jiyoung’s occasional teasing if she was here. Your dad was still alive, and this house, in a strange way, felt like an extension of home. Now, it’s like walking through a memory you can’t decide if you’re grateful for or aching to forget.

You smile softly at Yoongi and nod, letting the silence stretch as you stand. He doesn’t press you further, only watching as you cross the room to the wide, cushioned window seat at the far end. The large pane of glass offered a view of the front of the house. Settling into the seat, you lean against the frame, your gaze drifting outward.

Outside, the estate is alive with movement. Men are stationed around the house, their presence a constant reminder of the life you’re now steeped in. From the East Wing, you spot four men climbing into a sleek black Escalade. Then your attention shifts to the house’s front steps, where Namjoon and Hoseok emerge, walking with purpose.

Behind them, another figure appears and you recognise him instantly. 

Jimin, dressed sharply from head to toe, walks across the front drive. He pauses briefly in front of his Porsche, glancing back toward Hoseok, who says something you couldn’t hear. A moment later, Hoseok and Jin climb into the car, and Jimin gets into the driver’s seat. The engine roars softly to life, and within moments, his Porsche is gliding down the private lane, the Escalade following closely behind.

Your gaze lingers on the lane until the cars disappear into the distance. Though you can’t see the estate’s gate from here, you can picture it clearly in your mind – a familiar marker from years ago.

“Where are they going?” you ask without turning, your voice quiet but curious.

“Something’s wrong with one of the shipments we received from the Takahashis. Akira has been a bit of a pain these past few months. Jimin reckons they’re now involved with the Lees and are trying to keep us distracted.”

You hum in response, saying nothing more, but your eyes stay fixed on the far-off trees that bordered the estate. Centred in front of the west wing, a fountain catches your attention, its centrepiece intricate and elegant. It reminds you of the one in Jimin’s mother’s garden and absently, you wonder if that fountain was still there.

As you shift, a sharp pang shoots through your leg, where the knife wound throbs dully. Your wrist isn’t much better, but the pain in your leg is what makes you wince audibly.

Yoongi notices immediately, his gaze darting toward you. “I think you’re due for your meds again.”

You exhale softly, nodding. “Yeah, I think so.”

“You wanna stay here or go back up?”

You push yourself to stand, biting back a groan as the strain makes your voice tight. “Mm, I know I slept for days, but I’m actually still exhausted.”

Yoongi chuckles, rising to help steady you. “That’s to be expected. Don’t worry.” He gestures toward the far end of the room. “We’ll go up, but this time we’re taking the lift.”

You can’t help but smile faintly at his consideration. “Appreciate that,” you murmur as he slides a steadying arm under yours.

The dim light of the ensuite glows behind you as you step into the bedroom, a towel draped over your head. You had just woken up after another long nap, your internal clock utterly thrown off by the days of rest. It's late now, just past midnight and the night is quiet, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric and the soft padding of your feet on the carpet.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you absentmindedly rub the towel through your damp hair.

Your gaze drifts to the shelves by the dresser table, now stocked with an array of skin and hair care products. A small smile tugs at your lips as you stand to examine them, fingers lightly trailing over the meticulously arranged items. Appreciatively, you sit and carry out a full skin and hair care routine – after three days without it, you definitely need it. You wonder if it was Ara who must have put them here. You're certain she recognised you at dinner and when you think about it now, you think it would be nice to speak with someone familiar.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the buzz of your phone on the bed. Turning, you see the screen light up with an incoming FaceTime call. The name on the screen sends a swell of emotion through you.

“Moni?” you answer, settling back on the bed as your grandmother’s face appeared.

The sight of her brings a pang of guilt and relief all at once. Her tired eyes search your face and you can tell she must have been worrying nonstop. “Y/N,” she says softly, her voice warm. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure her quickly, though your heart aches knowing she must have been so anxious. “Really.”

She gives you a sharp look, the kind only she can manage, and her tone turns brisk. “Good. Stay safe there, you hear me? We're figuring out what's going on and Yoongi will tell you more when he can."

You nod, knowing better than to argue. Her expression softened just a little as she continued. “Tell me about Jimin.”

“He hasn’t said anything.”

“About recognizing you?” she asks, her brow lifting slightly.

You nod. “Nothing.”

She sighs, a mixture of fondness and exasperation crossing her features. “I don’t imagine he would. But I have no doubt he does. You haven’t changed much. He, however... he’s different.”

Her words hang in the air, and you find yourself looking up, your thoughts turning to Jimin.

“Life hasn’t been kind to him,” she continues, her voice tinged with melancholy. “When I last saw him, I didn’t see the same little boy I knew.”

A bittersweet smile crosses your lips. “Life hasn’t been kind to any of us.”

Your grandmother purses her lips, acknowledging the truth of your words. “Do you remember his father?”

“Of course I do,” you say without hesitation. “It’s hard to forget a man as cold as him.”

“And Mr. Lee?” she asks, her tone cautious.

You nod, already anticipating where this was headed. “I know, Moni,” you say quietly, cutting her off.

She looks up at you, her expression briefly surprised, but it fades just as quickly. "Of course, I should have expected you would piece it together."

“I know it was them,” you say, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “They did it. They killed Dad.”

She lets out a slow breath, her gaze steady on yours. “They were his best friends,” she says softly. “And then, all of a sudden…” She trails off.

You nod. You can only imagine that the sting of betrayal is still fresh even after all these years. Your grandmother's gaze remains on you, sharp and searching. “You’re there now, though… so, do you trust Jimin?”

You pause, memories of the night at your house flashing through your mind -- seeing Jimin in your kitchen with your gun aimed at him and he didn't retaliate in the slightest.

“I didn’t, at first,” you admit. “But I think I do. Besides, I trust Yoongi, and Yoongi trusts him."

She exhales slowly, relief evident on her face and a small smilw touches her lips. “You’re safe there, Y/N.”

You tilt your head slightly, meeting her gaze. “You trust Jimin?”

“I do,” she says without hesitation. “I trust him with you, and you’re my everything.”

The words wrap around your heart, and you wish you could reach through the screen to hug her. Instead, you nod and smile.

“You need to rest,” she instructs, her tone turning firm again. “I’ll call you later. Baek-hyun and I might come to see you. I think he wanted to see Yoongi too.”

Your lips quirk up at the thought. “That would be nice.”

"Good," she nods, and you eventually exchange goodbyes.

As the screen goes dark, you set the phone down, feeling a renewed sense of comfort. The thought of her visiting makes you smile softly as you sit in the quiet of the room.

Still restless though, you wander to the window, gazing out at the sprawling grounds bathed in the moonlight. You spot three men stationed at the back of the house, conversing together as they keep watch. The gardens stretch endlessly, just as you remembered. You can’t see the part of the grounds where Jimin’s mother’s garden would have been as it's hidden beyond the trees, but it would be nice to visit it tomorrow when the light returned.

As you shift, you feel your leg still aches, but it's different this time, more like the dull stiffness of inactivity than pain. Restless energy courses through you, and you decide a walk would do you good. The house is big enough and you need to keep your legs moving.

Stepping out of your room, you close the door quietly behind yourself and hear the faint hum of distant voices and sounds that tells you that not everyone is asleep yet.

As you move through the corridors, memories of Jimin filtered into your mind -- moments you hadn’t thought of in years now rising to the surface with startling clarity and they give you a strange sense of familiarity.

Eventually, your wandering brings you to your dad's painting again. You stop in front of it, the vivid strokes of lightning and sea send a wave of nostalgia over you, gratitude mingling with sadness. You remember you have a few of your father's paintings hanging up at home too and you make a mental note to ensure they're safely retrieved.

“Can’t you sleep, little bear?”

The voice, familiar and gentle, pulls you from your reverie. You turn to see Jimin standing a few feet away.

Dressed casually now, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up, he looks markedly different from the composed figure you saw earlier.

There’s a softness to him now, something that reminds you of the boy you once knew. His smile, small and tentative, feels as though it might disappear if the silence breaks too loudly.

You smile back, and the corners of his lips lift a little more.

Realising what he just said, his words stop you short – it’s the name of the book you gave to him the first time you met him, so many years ago.

Jimin steps closer, the lamp’s dim light casting soft shadows on his features.

As he nears, the subtle scent of his cologne reaches you – a delicate blend of cedarwood and something faintly sweet, familiar yet grounding. It lingers in the air between you, quietly drawing your attention to his presence.

Despite the weariness evident in his eyes, there’s a steadiness about him, a calmness that feels both reassuring and disarming.

“Y/N,” he says, your name leaving his lips quietly, as though testing how it feels after all these years. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognise you?”

“I wasn’t counting on it,” you admit, your voice soft. “I’m surprised you remember the book.”

Jimin’s smile grows, faint but genuine. “How could I not? I never got to thank you for it properly.”

“Thank me?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

He nods, shifting as if the memory is a tender one. “It was a comfort to me for a long time. I wasn’t allowed picture books of my own, so… thank you.”

You remember then how he once told you about his father’s strict rules. A cold man, his father likely saw no value in picture books – if they didn’t teach something useful, they weren’t worth having.

“You’re welcome,” you say softly.

Jimin’s gaze lingers on your face, and you feel a warmth creeping into your cheeks. Turning back to the painting, you focus on the familiar strokes of your father’s work.

“He was talented,” Jimin says quietly, standing beside you.

You smile faintly. “He was.”

After a moment, he adds, “I can have it moved to your room, if you like.”

You shake your head. “No, no. It’s okay. This is where it belongs.”

Jimin laughs softly, the sound low and soothing. “It’s actually covering up a stain we couldn’t remove. You might remember it since it was you who put it there.”

“Me?” you ask, eyebrows rising in surprise as you look at him.

He nods, a playful glint in his eyes. “Yep. One of the nights our fathers were away, and you had to stay over. Jiyoung was babysitting us, and we were painting. When it was time for bed, you didn’t want to sleep, so you ran away from her – with all the paints.”

As he speaks, the memory surfaces, vivid and sheepishly embarrassing. “Oh gosh, I remember. I tripped, and the paint went everywhere.”

Jimin smiles wider now, clearly suppressing a laugh. “We tried to paint over it a few times, but the colours were too bright. Eventually, my dad decided to put this up.”

You shake your head, laughing softly, though you still feel a twinge of embarrassment. “I can’t believe that’s still here.”

Jimin’s smile lingers, and the space between you feels quieter, weighted by an unspoken familiarity. His eyes flicker back to the painting, then to you. “It’s been a long time since then,” he says, his voice gentle, almost reflective.

You glance at him, catching the subtle shift in his tone, something deeper beneath the surface. “Yes,” you reply, turning your gaze back to the painting. “Though being here again… it almost feels like no time at all.”

Jimin studies you for a moment, his expression softening. “I imagine it feels different,” he says, “without your father?”

“Exactly,” you answer, the memory stirring a pang of longing. “It felt safe wherever he was.”

“And now?” His question is soft, careful, as though he’s weighing each word before speaking.

You hesitate before answering, meeting his gaze. “I want to say yes,” you admit honestly, “but experience tells me not to feel safe anywhere.”

Jimin nods, his expression contemplative, and something about his calm presence makes your honesty feel less vulnerable. “You’ve learned not to trust anyone,” he says, his voice carrying a quiet understanding.

You look at him, searching his face, but his steady gaze gives nothing away except an openness that feels disarming.

“You’re right to think that,” he continues, his tone neither judgmental nor apologetic, as if he understands the walls you’ve built all too well.

The words sit between you for a moment before you ask, carefully, “Can I trust you?”

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, silence fills the space between you.

“Yes,” he says, his voice quiet but certain. “But you’ll make that decision on your own.”

You nod slowly, his answer settling something inside you. There’s no urgency in his response, just a quiet assurance that feels like a small but solid anchor. It’s not a promise – it’s an invitation.

“Until then,” he continues, his voice softening, “please, make yourself at home. You’re safe here.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything else, but you catch the way he watches you, something unspoken but soft in his expression. You feel it yourself too – after so many years there is so much to say, to ask, but for now you take the peaceful quiet for what it is.

His presence feels closer now and you find yourself smiling faintly, glancing back at the painting.

It occurs to you now, how strange it is, that this time, there is something familiar that Jimin’s presence stirs in you – a reminder of what it feels like to trust, even if only a little.

note. thank you all so much for reading! please don’t be a silent reader :’) this fic takes me forever to write and I’d love for you to share your thoughts w me -- i really wanna know what you guys think! and rb toooo <3333

[dioslesbianwife]

How would the adult trio from hunter x hunter + kurapica and meruem react to there partner being kars can be gn

(kars the ultimate life from after their defeated landing in their world )

How would they react in the beginning meeting then fighting them and becoming partners with the ultimate life from from a different universe 🌌

that’s an interesting idea- thank you for requesting and hope you enjoy!!

hxh men with a powerful non human reader

Chrollo Lucilfer

Chrollo is endlessly fascinated by you. The idea of an ultimate life form, immortal, adaptable, and completely outside the known world, is exactly the kind of thing that would fuel his curiosity. He doesn’t just want to observe; he wants to understand you on an intimate level.

He’s intrigued by your sheer superiority over every living being. He views it as a philosophical question: if one exists beyond mortality and weakness, what is their purpose? He might even try to debate existentialism with you.

Stealing your abilities is impossible, which makes him both frustrated and even more obsessed. If you can manipulate your own body on a cellular level, how do Nen abilities even affect you? He sees you as a mystery to solve.

There’s a certain reverence in the way he interacts with you- not quite worship, but he does see you as something beyond human. He doesn't want to control you, but he does want to bind you to him through interest and companionship rather than force.

If you display cruelty or a lack of empathy for humans, he’d be completely unbothered. He understands the mindset of someone who sees humans as lesser beings, after all, he sees most people as pieces in his grander vision rather than individuals.

On the other hand, if you retain some level of fondness for humanity, he finds that even more compelling. It would remind him of himself, caught between his cold-blooded nature and his fascination with life’s fleeting beauty.

Hisoka Morow

Instantly obsessed. You’re strong? Immortal? Capable of adapting to any attack? Oh, he’s losing his mind with excitement.

He spends a lot of time testing your limits, trying different attacks, pushing you into situations where you have to fight seriously, just to see what you can do. It doesn’t matter how many times he loses; the thrill of seeing you evolve and counter him only makes him want you more.

Hisoka is a mix of lust, admiration, and competition when it comes to you. He doesn’t care about your origins, he just wants to experience you in your fullest form. If you indulge his battles, he’s practically devoted to you.

He teases you constantly, calling you his "perfect toy" or his "little demigod." He’s intrigued by whether you feel emotions like a human, and he’d absolutely try to flirt with you just to see your reaction.

If you’re dismissive of him, he finds it hilarious. He just keeps coming back, completely unbothered. If anything, your indifference makes him work even harder to get your attention.

In a strange way, he actually respects you. You’re the only being he doesn’t think he could ever truly defeat, and that makes you untouchable in his eyes. He wouldn’t betray you- at least, not in a way that would actually threaten your existence.

Illumi Zoldyck

At first, he’s unsettled by you. The Zoldyck family prides itself on their control, but you’re something outside the realm of human power. His mind races with possibilities- are you a threat to his family? To his control?

If he determines that you have no interest in interfering with his business, he switches tactics. Instead of eliminating you, he tries to align himself with you. If you’re an immortal being, what better way to secure his family's safety than by ensuring you’re on his side?

He’s strangely drawn to you, your inhuman logic and sheer indifference to human struggles make you a kindred spirit to him. Illumi never quite felt human himself, so there’s something comforting about your detachment.

He asks probing questions about your abilities- how you function, how you think, whether or not you experience emotions the same way humans do. It’s less about curiosity and more about understanding the best way to integrate you into his plans.

If you ever display dominance over him, he accepts it with eerie calmness. Unlike Hisoka, he isn’t thrilled by being weaker, but he understands power dynamics and he knows when he’s lost. If anything, he might even start seeing you as his superior in an oddly reverent way.

He sees potential in using your existence to create an unstoppable lineage. The Zoldyck family values strength, so if you showed even the slightest interest in reproduction (whether through science or otherwise), he would be invested.

Kurapika

His initial reaction is pure suspicion. An all-powerful being from another universe? He doesn’t trust you at all. He views anything beyond human comprehension as potentially dangerous, especially after everything he’s been through.

It takes a long time for him to drop his guard. If you express no interest in harming innocents or using your power for evil, he gradually starts to respect you. You’re not like the Phantom Troupe- you’re not needlessly cruel. But he still struggles with understanding your mindset.

Kurapika is incredibly intelligent, but your existence challenges his perception of the world. He might even seek knowledge from you, trying to understand how your biology works, how you perceive time, and what drives you if you don’t experience human mortality.

He wouldn’t fear you, but he’d constantly be assessing you, trying to predict your next move. His trust isn’t easy to earn, but once you do, he’s fiercely loyal.

If you express any sort of philosophical perspective on life and morality, he’d listen. He wouldn’t always agree, but he’d respect your experience. In a way, he might even admire your detachment- after all, his emotions have only ever led to suffering.

However, if you’re dismissive of human life, he’d be disgusted. He doesn’t care how powerful you are, he will fight you if he believes you’re a danger to others.

Meruem

The most complicated relationship of them all. Meruem is the closest thing to you in terms of sheer biological supremacy. The moment he senses what you are, he sees you as either a rival or an equal.

If you show any sign of superiority over him, he’d initially reject it- his pride as a king wouldn’t allow him to submit. But the more he observes you, the more he’d start to accept your place alongside him.

He’d want to test himself against you, not necessarily through combat, but through intellectual and strategic battles. He’d challenge you to games, debates, anything that could prove his worth in your eyes.

Philosophically, he’s deeply curious about you. He struggled with his identity as a being beyond humans but still connected to them, so how do you perceive existence when you’ve never been human at all?

If you show an interest in nurturing the weak, like he eventually did, he’d feel a deep connection with you. However, if you’re entirely apathetic toward lesser beings, he’d feel conflicted, should he follow your example or fight against that mindset?

You might be the only being that truly humbles him. And for that reason, he’d seek your companionship, whether as a trusted equal, a rival, or something in between.

[mrwinterr]

Fast In My Car

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Summary: Self-driving car sex. That’s it. 

Warnings: Adult themes | 🚫 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🚫 | Smut 18+ (unprotected sex [risky business], vaginal penetration, oral [male receiving], riding, creampie), dirty talk and language.

Disclaimer: None of the spooky events of the Stranger Things (2016) series take place in this piece. Everything is just where it’s at because this is made up. 

A/N: I don’t own a car with this feature, so oops on the technicalities. We’re just trying to have fun. Self-driving or not, lol, this is dangerous, but sexy too. Idk if this has been done. It’s just another car sex fic.   

mrwinterr masterlist

When Steve said he had a surprise, you thought it would be something simple like flowers, candy or some cute gift, but what you don’t expect is him with a new car. 

“Check it out!” he exclaims from the curb, a big smile on his face, his arms outstretched wide with the new shiny vehicle glistening in the sunlight behind him. He looked so happy and who wouldn’t be with a new car, right? 

There was nothing wrong with his BMW, so you were a little confused. He had the best car from the lot, courtesy of his parents, and while your own car was still holding its own, you remained steadfast in your refusal to mooch off their wealth, which they’d grown indifferent to. You knew they meant well in their own way. They gave Steve everything he wanted and only the best for him, but you just weren’t cut from the same cloth. 

“Where did you get that?” your first reaction was to question it, although you already had a good feeling from where. 

“At the dealership,” he answered simply. 

“Okay, not what I meant, babe. I mean how and why?” you clarify not one for playing dumb with him at that moment. 

“My parents wanted to surprise us,” he explained, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to do. 

“There’s nothing wrong with the car you have,” you noted.

“Had,” he corrects you before revealing the fate of his car, “they traded the BMW.” 

“What?” you exclaimed, taken aback. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Come on, it’s just a car. People trade in for new ones all the time.” Everything was just that easy for the Harringtons. “Okay, not everyone...or all the time,” he admits, seeing the unamused look on your face. “I didn’t know you liked the BMW that much.” 

“It’s not that…I don’t know,” you trailed off, trying to not sound sentimental. “We just had a lot of memories with the BMW.” 

Steve’s expression softened as he started reminiscing about the nostalgia tied to his old car. He picked you up for your first date in that car. He drove you to work with that car when yours would inconveniently break down. You both went on several road trips in that car. Among a lot of other things…in that car. 

“Couldn’t they have given us something else? Like…I don’t know, a house in Chicago maybe,” you unrealistically suggest, but wouldn’t completely put it past them. 

“What’s wrong with the house we have right now?” He asks, failing to grasp your point. 

“This is your parents’ house!” You remind him, gesturing toward the big house behind you. 

“They barely live here. It’s practically ours.” Steve reasons. 

“Not the point,” you say, hands on your hips, not amused by that answer either. 

“Whatever. Let’s take this for a spin.”

You sigh and reluctantly make your way to the passenger side, where he held the door open for you. 

~

Steve took the long way to everything during the whole drive and you were getting bored fast. Admittedly, the ride was smooth and the seats were very comfortable. You struggle to keep your eyes open and head up right, trying to not doze off. 

It was such a mundane thing, Steve driving around town with one hand on the wheel while the other on your thigh, sometimes in your hand. You didn’t think much of it at first, but when you start to feel him get a little too handsy, you rouse awake. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Well, you mentioned how we have so much history with the BMW…I was thinking maybe we can make some memories here,” he shrugs casually, continuing to drive through the backroads. 

“I’m not having sex with you in this car just for that reason,” you retort. 

“Why not? It has a self-driving feature,” he counters like that would help his case. 

“That still doesn’t mean you don’t have to pay attention to the road.” 

“How is you giving me road head in the BMW going to be any different in here?” 

“Steve!” You yell appalled by his bluntness on the topic. 

“If anything, it’ll be easier for me to keep the car on the road.” He’s really trying to upsell you on that self-driving feature, “…and the windows are tinted. No one will see us.” He can see the gears in your head turning, contemplating your next move. You just need a little nudge and Steve knows how to push your buttons. 

“You can’t tell me that car sex isn’t hot.” His hand sliding further up your skirt. He can feel the heat radiating from your core through the thin barrier of your underwear, which boosts his confidence in his plan. He has to bite his bottom lip to conceal the smirk. 

There were so many things wrong about this like endangering not only your lives but others, getting caught, and wrecking the car to name a few, but despite that, he’s right; you can’t deny the idea. It was dangerous but also thrilling. 

You huff at his triumph, unbuckle your seatbelt, and turn to face him. Giddy, he pushes his chair back to make room for you, but at enough distance for him to ensure he can still reach the steering wheel should he need to. 

“You’re taking us home right after this,” you demand, watching him nod his head eagerly, then reach to grab him. “Shit, Steve,” you pull your hand back not expecting him to be half hard already. 

“What? You’re the one that put the idea of us fucking in a car in my head. I can’t help but think about it,” he says defensively, trying to shift some of the blame on you. “Plus, your legs look really nice.” 

Shaking your head, you refocus your attention on undressing his lower half. Steve raises his hips as best as he could to help you tug his pants and boxers down enough for his cock to spring out. 

You wrap your hand around his length, giving it a light squeeze before pumping him in a gradual pace you knew that got him going. You watch his lips part at the sensation you’re conjuring from him, and it only encourages you to continue. Seeing Steve come undone is one of your favorite things. 

Leaning over the console, you get closer, poke your tongue out to swirl it around the head, collecting the small bead of pre-cum pooling from the slit. Your mouth waters at the taste, hungry for more, so you skip the teasing and go right for it. Steve sighs when you take him in your mouth, your lips enclosed around his cock.  

You look up high to the left to see he’s thrown his head back against the headrest, eyes closed, so you pull yourself off him. “Hey! Eyes on the road!” He jolts, your warning ringing through his ears, straightening up a bit and a hand back on the wheel. 

You’re soon bobbing your head up and down his length, a hand assisting in the job before you slowly start taking more of him inch by inch. He bunches up your hair in his hands to get a good view, sneaking a peek while still trying to keep his eyes trained on the road. Feeling the head of cock hitting the back of your throat stirs something animalistic in Steve. You have to keep your hands on his hips to force them down, so he doesn’t lodge himself any deeper than you could handle. 

“Fuck. You’re so good at that.“ His voice drones with the sloppy sounds from working your mouth on his cock. 

You hold him in place for a few seconds until you pull away, in desperate need for air, a mix of fluids running down your chin, but continue fisting his cock, feeling him grow harder.

Satisfied, you carefully maneuver over to him, claiming his lap as your new seat. It’s an awkward angle, but nothing new to you both. You hike your skirt up and push the slit of your underwear to the side. You let out a long moan as you lower yourself down on his thick cock. Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you close your eyes to focus on the sensation wracking through your body, doing your best to ignore the sting from being stretched out. 

“Yes,” he lets out as you’re fully seated on his thick cock, allowing him to bask in the warmth of your wet and inviting pussy. “You’re so tight,” he whines, feeling your walls contract around him involuntarily, waiting patiently for you to get used to his girth. 

It’s always a bit of a struggle, but once you get accustomed to him, you pull your face away, brace your palms on his clothed chest and start to bounce on his cock. High enough to keep the tip snuggled inside and low enough to feel his balls press up against the bottom of your ass. He looks down, gawking at the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing in you. 

“You’re so wet,” he says, licking his lips at the delicious sight. “You like riding my cock don’t you?” He knows you do. Your juices make certain of that when it starts overflowing that it starts to drip down his balls, soaking his seat. 

He’s just eating up the effects that his words have on you, the vulnerable look displayed on your face, so different from the one that was reprimanding him earlier. “Making such a mess,” he chastises, grabbing a hold of your chin forcibly to look at him. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open from the orgasm building up in you. Once he has your attention, his stare is intense as he gravely speaks out, “my dirty girl,” before smashing your lips together, his tongue inviting himself in your mouth seeking your own.  

It’s not enough for Steve to be just content with his cock buried deep inside you, he pulls your top down, your breasts spilling out. “God, I love your tits,” he groans, taking his other hand off the wheel so he could get a good fill of them in his hands. 

Moaning at the sensation when his mouth latches onto them, teasingly nibbling the hardened buds, you get more heated. You start grinding on him, your hips swiveling in circular motions. He loves when you do this because it allows him to feel every part of you, sending him into overdrive. 

“That’s it, grind on that cock, baby,” he mumbles against your chest, his hot breath fanning your skin.

“It’s so good,” you praise his cock. You let out a choked gasp when you ground harder, switching from circular to back and forth motions, “you’re so deep.” Feeling your body shiver, you try to memorize the angle where he’d just probed at, desperately needing him to hit it again. 

Your efforts proving futile, Steve notices your hips losing its rhythm, so he decides to take control. Sneaking his hands around to grope the globes of your ass, he draws you in closer to him, thrusting his cock deep inside to find it for you and judging by the volume of your moans getting louder and louder plus the way your walls contract around his member, he’s found your sweet spot. 

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes,” your voice wavering. You use the bit of strength remaining in your legs to sit up to focus on him. “Steve, I’m gonna cum,” your warning pushing him to drive it home.  

“Oh, baby,” he coos, bringing a hand up to push away the sweaty hair matted on your face. He loved watching you unravel too. He grips the side of your hips, fingers digging into your skin, not a care given about the marks they’d leave, and starts lifting you up and down his cock. 

“Right there! Fuck, yes. Steve, baby, right there.” 

“Yeah? You got it, baby.” He pistons his hips up into you, loving the way your breasts bounce from his harsh thrusts. “That’s it. Fucking come all over my cock…I’m right behind you, honey.” 

Your thighs clamped around his hips, hands twisting his shirt from the tight grip you held, you let out a silent sob as your orgasm rocks through you. Steve makes good on his word because as your walls start pulsing around his cock, it’s enough to make him come. His arms tightly wrapped around you, keeping you close and rooted down, he stills. Sensitive, you flinch and groan in bliss from feeling, the throb of each spurt of his cum shooting deep inside you.

When you both come down from the high, your body is slumped over him. Steve tilts your head leaning in to kiss you tenderly. He pulls away, a soft smile adorns his perfect face as you gaze lovingly at him. You almost forget that you’re in a moving vehicle until the warning noise breaks your catatonic state. 

“Shit,” he panics, letting go of you, quickly reaching over to align the wheel, almost crushing you in-between. You shoot him a threatening look to which he returns with a sheepish smile. 

“It’s cool! We’re alive aren’t we?” 

Shaking your head, Steve hissed as you carefully removed yourself from him, quickly sliding your panties back in place, not wanting to make a bigger mess than you already have or leave any stains before you climb over back to your seat. 

He pulls his pants back up on his own as you try to fix your appearance, but the post-coital glow doesn’t allow you to. He doesn’t look any more innocent either and he doesn’t care. These memories are yours alone. 

“Can we please go home now?” You ask, buckling up again. 

He looks over watching you draw a small heart on the foggy passenger side window, one of your quirky ways of expressing your love. 

“Yes, honey,” he says with a sweet smile, reaching over to hold your hand, and then taking the shortcut back home. 

A/N: Well that came out of nowhere. I'm a little rusty, but I'm done looking at this. Please give it a like, reblog or reply. I’d love to hear what y’all thought. Thank you for reading!

[dyns33]

Flufftober 2024 - 15 Matt Murdock

Y/N had been staring at Matt's t-shirt since he had entered the office.

Sometimes, she would glance at Foggy and Karen, who were doing their best not to turn to her, knowing that they would be unable to keep an indifferent look.

When she had suggested that they dress up at work on Halloween, there had been two reactions.

On one side, those who already had plenty of ideas for the decoration and the costume they were going to choose. And Matt, who didn't really see the point.

He wasn't totally against it, he who liked to have fun and hear his friends laugh.

But Matthew had never really celebrated Halloween, between his father who didn't have time and then the orphanage. And he couldn't see the costumes of the others, nor the horror films, nor the scary decorations.

Besides, his evenings were way too busy to think about candy, alcohol, and all that nice things.

A party during the day wouldn't interfere with his second job, so he eventually said he didn't care.

Then he groaned when Y/N insisted he find a costume.

"I can dress up as a rich, ruthless lawyer, would that be okay ? It's almost like now, except I'll wear the expensive tie Foggy got me for Christmas."

"Hilarious. It's not funny if we're not all dressed up ! Please, Matt. Even something simple, to get in the mood."

"I wouldn't know what to choose."

"I can come with you. Or Foggy if you want."

"No, thank you. I'll find something."

It was with a huge mischievous smile that Matt arrived with little red horns and a t-shirt that said "I'm not Daredevil".

He stayed in the entrance for a while, as if he was waiting for someone to say something, but after a silence, he only got greetings. Disappointed, Matt went to sit at his desk to focus on his current files.

His little smile returned when Y/N came to see him.

"Yes ?"

"… Seriously ?"

"What ? You would have preferred something else ? I find it funny. You said you wanted funny."

"I find it dangerous."

Her answer seemed to surprise him. He obviously expected his friends to understand the joke, or to tell him that he was stupid, but not to worry. Matt didn't like others worrying about him.

"Some might understand that you… You know."

"That a poor blind Catholic lawyer would dress up as a devil to fight crime ? That would be a great demonstration of progressivism, but I don't think it will happen."

"You never know." Y/N insisted. "You already risk your life at night, I don't want some sicko to attack you here, or at home, or in the street, even if you are capable of…"

"Calm down. Y/N, calm down. I can close my jacket if you want, then I'll just be a little devil. I can also go shirtless."

"… Idiot."

The others wondered what they had said to each other, seeing that Y/N looked troubled and that Matt couldn't stop laughing.

He would come to her with his real costume in the evening, and when they were completely alone, he would ask her again if she wanted him to take it off.

[narcissarina]

𝔊𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔫 ℭ𝔞𝔤𝔢, 𝔅𝔩𝔲𝔢 𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔰

જ⁀➴Previous chapter

Pairings: bodyguard!Leon × college billionaire!reader

Word count: 2,661

Summary: You tried to run off to escape him, but failed. Now you two created such scene in school grounds.

𝙸𝙸.

The most dangerous agent, now your bodyguard—stood before you. He’s prettier than you thought, pretty boy? Pretty boy. You just didn’t want to admit that he’s so much better in person, much more better than those pictures and in news.

He could be a role model of he wanted to, with that heartthrob of a face—you just took a guess that this man can pull any woman he wants, but little did you know that he’s actually awkward towards women.

“Hi..?” you began, tone indifferent with a cock brow, “pleasure to meet you, your father says that I’ll be your bodyguard from now on.” His voice deep and husky, you would be lying if it didn’t made your legs clench together, right?

You cleared your throat and mind, shaking off those kinds of thoughts, “I appreciate it, but I don’t need one.” You grit your teeth while uttering those words, you turn to your father and frown at him—trying to get your pretty, begging eyes to have your father throw him out. Eyes screaming, “but, daddy! I don’t want him, I can take care of myself.” Type of eyes.

Your father could only smile and turn to Leon, “I am so sorry about that.” Then grip your hand, it hurts but you could only frown and storm out of the scene.

Leon’s gaze followed your figure till you disappear from his sight, he turns and talk more with your father—getting his objectives and that when the others need him, he can’t be with you for a while.

You surround yourself with all your squishy, grumbling under the sheets and doing your assignments there. Yet, another topic that your stupid ass professor did not teach, you called Sarina—her phone is off. You whine and threw your feet, some of your plush got off the bed and you sat up, still under the blanket and stare at it.

You hiss at the light as your blanket got pulled off, “what are you doing?” It was Leon, your blanket in his hand and put it in the edge of your bed. “What are you doing in my room?” you hiss and got off of bed and walk towards, you heard him scoff and pick up the squishy and plush that fell off the bed, “didn’t knew father also hired a personal cleaner.”

You gave him a side-eye and cock a brow, he smiled at your remark, amused as he place them in bed. “Aren’t I the first one who asked you a question, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

You shudder at the name, either you cringe or just felt your stomach flutter. No one called you sweetheart before, not even your father. Either they call you dear or by your name, plus with a monotone or demanding tone of voice. But Leon’s? It was low and seducing. As if he’s luring you into a trap.

You didn’t answer, back turn to him as you resume your focus to your work. Pen tapping the desk, as Leon just watch you from the distance.

It only took a few minutes until Leon walked up to your desk and lean down to see what you’re up to, your breath hitches and turn your head to him—quickly moving your head away as you inhale some of his cologne.

“What are you up to?” he asked, “none of your business.” You replied, rolling your eyes as his hands were holding on to the edge of your desk, completely trapping you in between. “oh, this is easy.” He points then read the question aloud in my textbook, “Examine the role of women in World War II and the, both on the home front and in combat roles.”

He turns to you, leaning a little close, “so?” you stay quiet, not knowing what to answer since it isn’t even taught by your prof, or rather it was just a boring video that you didn’t payed attention in class. You mutter lowly, “dunno.”

He sigh and took out a chair and sat beside you, you grumble, “I didn’t think father also hired a tutor.” Your remark. “Well since you’re a woman, I think you should know this question. Isn’t women empowerment a thing?” he asked, you glared at him and punch him to his side, he didn’t budge and took your punch. He even thinks you punch cute.

“are you insulting me?” you said, “I didn’t say that.” He chuckle in amusement and took the back of your chair to scoot you close, he cleared his throat and took your pen. He points to the text and began, “women played a crucial role in world war two, what are those roles?” he asked, giving a pause and letting you answer but words didn’t come out of your mouth and just shrunk in your sit.

“eyes here, princess.” He took your jaw and gently force you to look at the textbook, “I’m not done explaining.” He added and continue, “women serves in various capacities, such as factory workers, nurses, and members or armed forces.” You listen attentively, never know that his voice sounded so nice when explaining things. Even kind enough to provide you answers.

“Countries like the Soviet Union, women served in combat roles as pilots, snipers, and partisans.”

“They held guns?”

“yes, they held guns.”

“I wanna hold a gun too.” You mutter and let your face fall to your textbook and turn your head, “continue.”

Leon nodded and stared at your face, then eyes on the textbook again. “Their contributions not only supported the war efforts but also challenged traditional gender roles and paved the way—” you cut him off.

“for greater gender equality in the post-war period.” You mutter lowly, Leon nodded and lean back to his chair, “and here I thought you didn’t know.” He gave you a faint smirk as he folds his arms. “that’s the only thing I heard when class ended.”

“you said your prof didn’t taught you this?” he raised a brow, “or did you simply didn’t listen to your lessons?”

You let out a ‘hmp’ and scoot your chair to your desk and statt working on your assignment, you were guilty but you didn’t want to admit that—you think it’ll make him a know-it-all. And your pride wouldn’t let you.

“You on your own? Or you still need me to break down history for you?”.

“You’re annoying.”

“that’s not the answer I’m looking for, princess.”

You ignored him, but he stayed incase you didn’t understand some parts and need him to explain to you. And he was right, you’d tap your pen again and it’s his cue to come and help you, you’re almost teary and at meltdown at your assignment.

Leon finds this amusing and stayed longer than intended.

You start yet another day, doing your usual routine but the twist is Leon will be and always will be following you around. As long as you don’t disappear from his sight, he won’t interfere.

Good news, you finish your assignment last night! Congratulations, you wouldn’t finish it then interrupt Sarina from her book without Leon’s help. Not only is he hot, but also smart—you felt a bit embarrassed that for someone you just met for the first time would be tutoring you.

But, hey. At least he is much better than those boys who tutor you in the past then ended up getting tutored by Sarina.

You made your bed, showered, pick an outfit to go to school to slay yet again. Leon could only watch you move and do your thing in the distance, you come downstairs get your breakfast as you finally got to the car that’ll drive you to school.

Plot twist: Leon must be there with you.

You hate that idea, since you felt awkward from last night—you go from hating him then needing him when there’s a topic that you know nothing about, Leon must be thinking you’re just crazy and having a terrible mood swing.

The whole car ride was a bit eerie, even the driver that drove you yesterday felt uneasy. You steal a glance and you turn away quickly because you realized that his eyes were always locked into you. His icy and cold gaze always following your every move, sounds creepy. Isn’t that the type of book trope that Sarina reads?

You can feel him tug a small smile from his lips then turning away, his expression quickly changing to a cold, unexpressive expression. Like this man doesn’t smile at his whole life.

Your bag on your lap, your attention out the window as you and Leon sat at the same seat quietly—keeping a good distance between the two of you until you finally arrived at your destination.

You gave the driver another tip and now, he felt like he can’t stop you from tipping him. You got out the car, and so does Leon’s. You can tell people at your back stop their tracks and take out their phones as if they have seen a real life celebrity—scratch that, he is a celebrity. This motherfucker saved the presidents daughter.

You don’t like the whispers, since Leon is with you—they’ll ask you questions if you two were a thing, why is Leon with you. How come the most dangerous agent is with a person like you.

You like gossips, really—you love the juicy drama and tea, but you don’t like getting involve into drama. They’ll spread it like wildfire, asking questions if they could have Leon’s phone number or that if you two did the deed and if so, is he good? Is he endowed? Fuck them.

Turning your back at him, he follows, “you can stop following me!” you hiss, “can’t do that, sweetheart.” Leon remark, his front touching your back—towering you from behind, you look up to meet his blues.

In others eyes, they could see two people flirting in school grounds, one an agent that dates a college student. Scandalous, isn’t it?

“you can’t always follow me, Leon!” you said and start to walk off, but Leon caught your wrist and turn you around to meet his eyes, “your father instruct me to protect you, I can’t go against your father’s will, now can I?”

You could hear giggles from other students, their phones out and recording—word could spread and come to the principal. “I can’t always have you here, Leon.”

“I won’t interrupt you, I just need to watch over you and ensure your safety, princess.” You snatch your wrist away, you groan and walked away whilst Leon follows. People think that they just witness a fucking conflict of a love story.

You went to the cafeteria to buy some drink, Leon’s outside the cafeteria—it was bustling with people and every people that pass by, they see the blonde agent and asked to take photos with him, which you don’t know if he declines of not.

You took your drink, striking a right time to lose your bodyguard—but there’s only one in and out of the cafeteria and Leon seems to be busy making small talks with the students, so—the first thing that came out from your mind is to run. It’s quite dumb, really. Leon could catch you for 10 seconds max and held you in place so you wouldn’t be a naughty girl.

But you still made a run for it, good thing you still hasn’t pluck the straw in and that your bag isn’t with you right now.

“hey, hey!” Leon yelled, his voice changing to a higher pitch tone, “get back here.” He said and rushes over you, adrenaline kicks in—Leon’s chasing you, not knowing you’re making a scene and people recording. They’ll think that two people are having a chase of their life romantically, but it isn’t. Leon is pissed, your pace began to slow down and before you knew it—you were swept off your feet as he threw you over his shoulder.

“Let me go!” you whine and hit his back a few couple of times, you feel him pat and slap your ass and taking a few deep breaths, “naughty girl.” He said and picked up the drink you dropped.

He picked up your bag where he left it since you asked him to watch it for you. “Now, where to?” he asked, sliding the strap over his shoulder, “Leon, stop! People are watching.” You whine and move your legs to get off.

“No worries, you’re getting the attention you deserve.”

“Stop!” your ear and cheeks burning hot red, you could only cover your face with your hands and just accepts defeat. “where to?” he asked again, “Library…”

You cover your face from the entire walk where Leon still has you in his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Sarina was waiting for you in the library and Leon came in with you in his shoulder—peoples eyes dart to you and him when he entered, “girl, I have been waiting fo—” Sarina cut herself mid-sentence.

Leon puts you down, you’re facing him and your back at Sarina—you don’t wanna face your best friend now and be dumped with a bunch of questions. You lose balance and your covered face made contact with Leon’s chest, you don’t fucking care anymore. You’re too embarrassed to exist now.

Leon looked down and grab you to your shoulder and try to turn you around, you don’t want to and whine at him. Hiding yourself to him and hitting him repeatedly.

“Don’t be a brat now, princess.” Leon whispered, “or else, you’ll draw more attention—which you don’t want, right?” he added and that made you sit down with your friend and ignore Leon’s existence.

Sarina’s kept wandering back and forth to Leon, scooting over to you and giggling as she whispers unnecessary things like how luck you were and that if you two were a thing.

“He’s my bodyguard, the end. Period. End of story. No more question.” You said with gritted teeth, Saeina backs out and chuckle, “ok girl.” She rolled her eyes while Leon only watch.

“by the way, who’s that guy?” you point at the distance, male group with a few females across the room—one particular guy catches your attention, but hey—didn’t you say that you hate guys?

“Why do you asked? I mean, you have Leo—” you hit Sarina with her book closed and she let out a hiss of pain, “god fucking damn—” she curses and glared at you.

“I’m just asking, that doesn’t mean I’m interested.” Or are you? Leon cock a brow and turn his attention to the group with males and female student whispering among themselves and as if they were being held back at being loud.

A brunette guy snatches your attention, curly hair and his smile is something that made you drift you away from reality—as if time froze and it’s just you and him. But Leon isn’t having it, he has this feeling but he shouldn’t voice it out. He’s here for work, he shouldn’t give a shit about you having a little crush over a guy.

But the feeling is that the guy will be a playboy, that’s the vibe Leon is getting since there’s two girls surrounding him.

But who is he to judge?

Leon snapped your attention away, “if you have laser eyes, you could’ve burn through that guys face, you know that?” you hit him and sulk.

Sarina rolled her eyes, “girl, if you want him. Try to have him, I’m just saying that your bodyguard is so much better.” You try to hit her one more time but she dodges and ran out of the library.

But little did you know that the brunette turn his eyes and laid on you, you never knew but instead his gaze met Leon’s cold icy blues. You want to question Leon why he has his hand on your waist as he drags you out of the library.

You’re really in for a ride, aren’t you?

Next Chapter>>>

[rogue-durin-16]

HEAD-TO-HEAD (part III.½/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst splattered with fluff/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget @ladystardustfromarss

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language (if anything lmao)

A/N: happy new year or new year's eve or whatever the fuck. Here's another part of this multipart because I just can't work with scheduled posting no matter how hard I try. Enjoy this teeny tiny continuation before I move this along hopefully to the RMS Samaria <3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band Of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The night before our first jump felt heavier than it should have. Everyone was on edge to some extent —how could they not be? When we were about to jump out of a plane—, but it was late night and most had found a way to keep their mind busy.

'Most' didn't include me.

I had checked my gear so many times I would probably be able to recite the parachute assembly manual in my sleep. My fingers twitched over the canopy, smoothing it out again even though it was already flawless. It wasn’t nerves—I told myself that. Just preparation.

That’s when I noticed Joe coming into my peripheral vision to stand beside me, his presence as casual as ever. His hand ran over my canopy like he had any business touching it.

"Didn’t think I’d live to see you overthinking something."

I swatted his hand away without looking up.

"I'm not overthinking. I’m just... making sure."

He snorted, clearly unconvinced.

"Anyone ever tell you you’re a bit of a control freak?"

"Do you always gotta get your two cents in?"

Joe smirked, completely unfazed by my glare.

"C’mon, Y/n. I’m just saying. This is what? The third time you went over it?"

Before I could answer, Skip's voice piped up from the far side of the room.

"I think she's going on five now."

I spun around to glare at him instead. "Who asked you? For fuck's sake." I mumbled the last part, returning to the useless task at hand.

"Like I said." Joe, of course, wasn't ready to drop it. "Control freak."

"Can you shut up?"

"Not really."

With a huff, I turned back to my chute, offering him nothing but feigned indifference and loud silence.

Since the near-fight we had seen ourselves involved in a couple of weeks prior, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about Malarkey's words —'what's gonna happen when we're out there? We're supposed to be a team.'—. He wasn't wrong, and neither was Toye. We would get someone killed.

Liebgott and I had, undoubtedly, become an issue to the company's efficiency, and that was a luxury we couldn't afford in war. Basic training? Barely, but getting into spats for every stupid thing and pushing each other to our limits for the hell of it wouldn't cut it once we had to get the job done.

So, instead of snapping as easy as breathing just to have the last word, I had been making use of the silent treatment when I felt the arguments firing up between the two of us.

Needless to say, he wasn't exactly a fan of me not pushing back immediately.

"What, you mad at me now?"

"Shocking, isn't it?" I didn’t even bother sparing him a look.

"Okay, listen." He shifted closer, leaning slightly against the table with his head turned in my direction. "It’s gonna deploy alright. Your biggest problem's probably gonna be the landing."

I halted my motions when he finally managed to catch my notice. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Joe shrugged. "You just suck at it."

There was a beat of silence in which I found myself gawking at the man standing by my side.

"And you suck at reassuring people."

He grinned like he was enjoying every second of this. "Oh, so you are overthinking."

"I’m not overthinking." My hands busied themselves with the gear, eyes fixed on their movements as I whispered, "I'm just afraid of heights."

Joe's snickering earned him a swift smack on his arm that made him freeze for half a second.

"Wait, you serious?" I didn't miss the way his eyes searched for the truth in mine. "Holy shit, you're serious."

"You better keep whatever comment you’re about to make to yourself," I warned with a menacing index pointing at him. "unless you want my boot up your ass."

Hesitation flashed across him for an instant, as if he was pondering how good of an idea it would be to opt for the teasing.

He observed the fairly quiet room and, without a word, he pushed himself off the table and did a half turn to face my canopy.

His fingers returned to the fabric, only that this time he actually decided to do something useful and began to carefully fold it.

"It's alright." His attention was trained on his actions instead of on me while we moved in synchronicity. "Everyone’s a little freaked out about it."

I glanced at him sideways, skeptical. "You sure look at ease."

"I am." He clicked his tongue, tilting his head to the side as a response to my observation. "Maybe tomorrow I won’t be. Maybe I’ll shit my pants in the plane, who knows."

I snorted before I could stop myself, and, when I looked up to gauge his reaction, I caught his eyes sneaking a look at me through his lashes, sporting a lopsided smirk on his parted lips.

We finished prepping my equipment in silence to everyone's surprise and, when everything was done, he pulled it away from my grasp without much complaining from me.

"You're good." There was some sort of finality in the statement that, for whatever reason, put me at ease. "Control freak and all."

"Keep running your mouth, Liebgott, and someone will have to scrape you off the drop zone tomorrow." I yanked back the gear to carry it to my bunk, throwing the last words over my shoulder as a warning, although there wasn't any real bite to them.

His steps caught up with me right when I reached my bed. "Oh, I'm terrified." He mocked, leaning on from behind just for an instant before walking past me to reach his own bunk.

I scorned, shaking my head and proceeded to tuck myself in.

Sleep found me faster than I expected and, in the morning, I couldn't help but wonder if Joe had anything to do with it.

[matherofdragons]

How dare they try to make the Greens the bad ones?

First it was the claims that Alicent and Cole are responsible for the death of Jaeharys. God forbid a widow have some fun. While I have issues with her sudden relationship with Cole and the sex scenes that are presented as raw while the ones on the black side as intimate, it doesn't make them responsible for the death of a child.

Then came the claims it was Aegon's fault, that he was a bad father, that it was his drinking and indifference that caused it, but he was genuinely nice with with his children.

The real villain is Condal and his writing team. They are for Rhaenyra, fine but try to present the story neutrally. The whole B&C was butchered in favour to make the Blacks look less bad. It's supposed to be tragic. Where was the Sophie choice? Where was "Your mother wants you dead?"? It was just a "mistake". We all know it was not. It was "a son for a son".

Season 2 Episode 2 just continued the trend. They knew people will sympathise with Helaena and Aegon and will start hating the other side. So they banged their heads together and came up with a episode made to destroy them.

The funeral was depicted as a publicity stunt. While Luke's being a genuine family ceremony. See guys the Greens are dysfunctional. They aren't a real family. Why didn't they use Rhaenys' massacre of the smallfolk as PR? Did they forgot it happened?

The grandmother doesn't want to attend as she's too busy thinking about the d, mother doesn't want to attend, father is told NOT to attend, no other relatives around. Luke's ceremony was the complete opposite of this. B

Aemond was too busy being dotted by a pseudo mommy to participate in the upcoming warplans or be there for his family. He somehow knows that it was Daemon just because. Is he getting visions like Helaena?

Aegon was denied a scene with wife, so they can grief together. They just had to pass each other to make it seem he's indifferent to her. Alicent isn't there to grief with him, contracting again with Jace and Rhaenyra who griefed together. I guess she was more interested in Cole's private parts.

Otto throws a really pathetic tantrum over muh ratcatchers and uses it as an excuse to shit on Aegon for 5 minutes. Because Aegon is bad for seeking justice for his son. And why did the small folk react so badly? Was killing few people who could have been part in the murder of the Prince worse than the stunt Rhaenys pulled?

And how can I forget the dog. The dog is making people sympathetic towards child butchers. Lovely.

Bravo Sara Hess! Bravo Condal! You truly outdid yourselves.

Justice for my Prince Jaeharys! Cole did the right thing. If it wasn't for Mahsaria his plan would have worked!

Bonus for the book version!

[kkurisuac]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞

Pairing: Mitsuya Takashi x Fem Y/n

warning: kinda fluff, some angst, childhood friends to strangers to lovers

"I don't believe in love. Why is that a problem?", I asked, because I didn't understand why everyone was so upset about it.

"Because love is wonderful and you have to experience it. But if you don't believe love exists, you can't experience it!" Aki argued for her right.

"Aki-chan is right." Yuzuha agreed with Aki.

"I also agree with Aki-san." Hakkai also said.

"Takashi say you're with me." I looked at my best friend.

"I don't know. I've never felt love so I don't know whether to believe in it or not." Takashi replied which was totally justified.

"Love is like when you feel butterflies in your stomach, you get excited as soon as you see them, in your eyes they are perfect, you just think of them and then you feel happy, you want to see them, smell their scent, hear their voice laughing, see their smile." Aki outlined love.

"Oh, that's love. Then Aki is right, you really have to experience it." Takashi stood by Aki's side.

"Mitsuya as you said that maybe you have felt it too?" asked Aki excitedly.

"Maybe. Maybe there is a special person for me." Takashi said mysteriously. At this statement, we were all surprised and couldn't speak suddenly.

"Is there someone you haven't mentioned a word about? What Takashi?" I asked first.

"I don't have anyone, she's just special to me, but she doesn't know that." Takashi replied simply.

"Then tell her Mitsuya!" said Aki.

"Who's the girl Takashi?" I asked, since he never mentioned anything about her to me. But he just smiled at me and the others looked at each other knowingly as if they knew something.

"What now? What did I miss?" I looked at them all, but they just laughed at me.

"That should be a secret Y/n." Takashi said.

"Since when is it a secret if everyone knows but me?" I huffed, I think rightfully so.

"Don't worry Y/n-chan we don't know either." tried to reassure Yuzuha, but she was clearly lying.

I didn't question it further because I knew they wouldn't tell me. So it remains an eternal mystery to me who Takashi is in love with.

Me, Aki, Yuzuha, Hakkai and Takashi were always together. We did a lot of things together and had a lot of fun. Until I got a job offer overseas.

I was always working for the world to know me for once and I managed to do it. So leaving my friends behind I went to a completely new place without knowing anyone. It was a rough first few months, especially because before I left Takashi confessed his feelings. I couldn't accept them and I couldn't do anything about the fact that he loved me, because I never believed in love and so I couldn't reciprocate the feelings I didn't even know a little bit about. So I started my new life without the most important friend in my life.

So our friendship broke up and I didn't come back to Japan for years because no one was expecting me back. Even though they were very important to me, we couldn't keep in touch and I missed out on everything anyway. But now I'm back after seven years because it seemed like a good idea, but it's not. I don't want to meet anybody.

But I had to come back because I have a job here. It's the least I could do, because I could manage not to meet them, but I have to work with Aki and Hakaki. The ones who are most angry at me for leaving them behind. Okay, Hakkai is mostly mad at me for hurting Takashi. The only person who's indifferent to me is Yuzuha, so it's a bittersweet return.

"So I have to go to the design house alone? But I don't want to go alone!" I said to my manager who was busy.

"Y/n stop being a baby and go." he slammed the phone down on me.

"But-" I would have argued, but there was no one on the other end of the line. I was screwed.

I made my way to the place in agony, hoping to get hit by a car. I knew Aki and Hakkai would be there, but it was going to be embarrassing. I should never have taken this job.

I walked as slowly as I could, but still made it to the office quickly. I didn't go in straight away because I needed to build up the strength to face them after seven years. I don't want to see the dislike in their eyes, they are my dear friends.

I can do it, they are not strangers. "Hey." I greeted as soon as I entered and was afraid to look up, but I could feel everyone looking at me. But when I looked up, my eyes met Takashi's. What is he doing here? He was the only one we needed.

"Y/n-chan! You're more beautiful than in the pictures." Yuzuha hugged me and she was the only one who was at all happy to see me, but at least I only have to face three people who don't welcome me here.

"Thank you Yuzuha." I said awkwardly and I didn't know what to do with myself now, even though I didn't know until now.

"You've changed a lot Y/n." Takashi said, which really surprised me, because I thought he would be the only one who wouldn't talk to me. "This is not true. I am the same person I was. But you're all different." I looked at them, but I didn't look them in the eye. I meant what I said, because they really are completely different. I mean, the way they look is not the same as when I left them.

"This is really awkward, so let's get to work. Y/n sit here." Yuzuha said after getting tired of the tense atmosphere.

"Are these your drawings Takashi? These are just wonderful. I mean, it's not surprising, since you used to be talented. But I don't quite understand why we're looking at these now." I said when I saw Takashi's drawings. But everyone just looked at me with big blinks.

"Y/n-chan, you haven't seen these drawings?" asked Yuzuha in surprise.

"No? Should I have?" I asked back.

"So you didn't even know that Mitsuya is the designer of the clothes and you have to work with him?" continued Yuzuha. This can't be true! How could I work with someone for weeks who I rejected years ago and then left behind?

"No… Takashi I'm going to wear your clothes? So that's why you're here?" it occurred to me, what was he doing here

"I bet you didn't read the contract properly." Yuzuha sighed, knowing what I was like. I really could have been hit by a car.

"Maybe I just read it sloppily." I was ashamed, and the others laughed at me. Except for Aki, who didn't even twitch a muscle.

"You're right, you haven't changed a thing." Takashi said.

"Y/n then I would take off your sizes." Takashi said and pushed the others out.

It was very embarrassing to be alone with him, and it made me feel even more embarrassed to have to stand in front of him in my underwear. But I'm a model, so that shouldn't be a problem for me. It wouldn't be if it wasn't Takashi.

"And what's it like to return to Japan after seven years?" asked Takashi, to relieve some tension.

"It's honestly wonderful. I've always loved living here and none of the countries compare to Japan, even though I've been to so many places." I replied happily, because it was the first time someone had asked me about it and I always felt comfortable around Takashi by default.

"Which was your favourite? Although I bet it was Italy." he looked at me, but I couldn't keep eye contact because it was a bit awkward.

"You continue to know me well. I loved every minute of it when I was there. I'm sure you would have loved it too. Although you may have been there before, you're actually a famous fashion designer that only I didn't know about." I immersed myself in the conversation. Takashi always knew how to relax me when I was tense.

"Yes, I've been there with Aki. And it was really amazing." he smiled at me. "We're done." he added.

At least Takashi isn't as mad at me, I mean not as mad as I thought he would be. I thought he wouldn't even look at me. That's a relief, I hope the others will be able to forgive me because we'll be working together for the next six weeks.

"Can I walk you home, Y/n?" asked Hakkai after I got out of the office. I was quite surprised, because I hadn't expected this at all. It was difficult to talk to Hakkai anyway, because he was always too embarrassed, but I got better at talking to him as time went by, but seven years have passed since then.

"If I don't bother you, I will.", I said, afraid of what he would say, because he was always an important friend of mine.

"I missed you so much Y/n-chan." Hakkai said sincerely and I was incredibly happy.

"Don't you hate me?" I asked, surprised.

"No, I was just a little mad at you, but not like Aki-chan." she said. I was really worried for nothing.

"Aki is really mad at me after all this time, even though she would have done the same thing if she were me." I said my opinion which Hakkai agreed with. She was my best friend and I put her through joining our little group of friends. However, for some reason, she didn't take it too well that I had received an overseas offer. We have not been friends since.

"Aki-chan has changed a lot since you left. She's become very jealous since then and has completely abandoned that hopeless love-girl self." Hakkai described Aki, and I was surprised, because Aki was famous for being selfless and childish.

"But why? What happened?", I asked, because I couldn't understand the reason, my ex-best friend couldn't have changed so much for that.

"You and Aki were best friends, you supported her and she tried to live up to you." Hakkai said, and I just listened in confusion. I'm inattentive, but not that inattentive. "And she was always very jealous of you because you got a job in America because of your many years of success here, and she was very upset by that. But this is mostly about Taka-chan." Hakkai told me, and I listened in surprise, because I knew nothing about it. But what does Takashi have to do with it? Sure, Takashi is her friend too, but I didn't hurt him enough to make Aki hate me.

"Takashi? What does he have to do with this?" I asked, increasingly confused.

"Taka-chan loved you first, not Aki-chan." Hakkai said simply, as if I was supposed to understand.

"Because Takashi loves Aki?" asked I, still not understanding what was going on. Okay, maybe I am being too careless after all.

"Aki-chan and Taka-chan are engaged. Don't you know anything?" he asked indignantly that I didn't know that either. That's quite a plot twist.

"How was I supposed to know? But honestly!" I said nervously that he holds me to account, even though he wasn't talking to me.

"Okay, you're right. Then let's start with the fact that you rejected Taka-chan, he was very down, and Aki happened to be right next to him. That's how their relationship started and then they got engaged a month ago." he told me succinctly. That sounds pretty sneaky. Was Aki always like that?

So Takashi and Aki. Interesting couple. How long have they been so close, anyway? Since when does Aki like Takashi? Why is Takashi getting over me so quickly? Aki has always hated me?

The next day, I started the day at Takashi's office to discuss the details of the fundraiser. Takashi always had such a good heart and helped others, I always admired that about him.

After talking to Hakkai a lot last night, I felt much more relaxed between them than I had yesterday afternoon. Although that might be due to the fact that Aki hadn't shown up yet. I would be happy if she would talk to me and we could talk, but I guess that's not going to happen.

As Hakkai told me a few things about the past few years, I realized that I never really knew Aki. Hakkai said things I never knew, even though I was there. For example, that Aki has long been in love with Takashi and was jealous of me for 'taking' her place. I never noticed, because she never did anything to make me notice. But it bothers me that I was so blind and that while I saw her as my best friend, she saw me as the enemy.

However, I can't do anything with this information because I'm leaving again in six weeks. Besides, I have no right to care about Aki and Takashi's relationship, because I'm leaving and they're getting married. But the thought still bothers me. I mean Japan is my home and I haven't been home for a long time, it's bad to think about leaving again.

"I've also been set up with quite a few model guys or actors that I met around that time." I said, after Hakkai had also told me that the last time it had appeared on the internet that he was with another model girl. But it's clear that's not the case, because Hakkai continues to freeze in the presence of strange girls. I remember how long it took him to get to talk to me.

"I saw the latest news where you're at a party and you're going out with another model. Taka-chan was already panicking that you picked someone up there Ame-" Hakkai interrupted after Yuzuha nudged his shoulder. "I mean the news was true?" he corrected himself.

"No. I had a few photo shoots with him, we used to talk at some events, but that's about it. He has a girlfriend anyway." I replied, but sensed something was wrong.

"Well, I didn't expect anything else from you Y/n-chan." Hakkai said happily. "But I guess there was someone else in the picture you might have dated." Hakkai continued. How did we get to my non-existent love life?

"You know me like that?" I asked seriously, but I wanted to end the subject as soon as possible.

"So you still don't believe in love?" continued Hakkai.

"No, because I haven't really felt it yet. But I didn't take it like seven years ago. So I want to experience it now and say I believe in it." I replied honestly, but even surprised myself with that answer. There must be something in that Japanese air.

"Now that we have discussed Y/n's exciting life, we can get back to work. Taka, let's go over the plans again." Aki said, turning to her fiancé, who had arrived in the meantime.

I preferred to keep silent and said nothing, not wanting to upset Aki any more than I already had. Although I have no idea what to think about her because she was my best friend, but now she is a completely different person. Or maybe she's always been like that, I just didn't see it, which scares me a little.

"Takashi would you start with me? Because after this I have an important call I can't miss." I said to the boy after my manager texted me that I had a call to attend.

"Sure, come Y/n." Takashi agreed and helped me get dressed.

All the dresses were gorgeous that were made for the benefit, although I didn't expect anything else from Takashi, as his talent is undeniable, it has been in the past.

"Another job opportunity?" asked Takashi as he adjusted the dress for me.

"Yes. I've been waiting at least six months for this call. If they want me, I can work in Italy for a year and that would be heaven for me." I said excitedly.

"So you're going to live in Italy after this?" asked Takashi, who is aware of my dream to live in Italy.

"If all goes well, yes. My dream would come true and my work wouldn't be in vain."

"I'm sure you'll get the job, and if you don't they'll lose because you're a prize for everyone. Your future husband will be lucky to have you." he said looking at me in the mirror. I saw the bitter smile on his face and for some reason it made me sad to see Takashi like that.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, but we'll see. A few hours and we'll find out if I'm going to Italy from here or back to America." I said, a little confused. I don't know what's gotten into me, but I need to get a grip.

"Isn't there an option for you to stay here?" he asked kindly. Was Takashi always this soft with me?

"I've been thinking about moving back home. But you know it's always been a dream of mine to be an international model and finally make it happen. I don't want to give that up just yet. When I have a family I'll move home, but until I have someone to stay for I won't." I explained my choice.

"I didn't say give up, I just said come home." Takashi said. "If six years ago when I confessed my feelings and you felt the same way I did, would you have stayed?" he asked as he looked me in the eye. His question surprised me so much that I suddenly couldn't answer. I don't even know what the right answer is. Why is it so important?

"I don't know… If you had asked me to, maybe, but I have no idea. I never thought about it." I said, confused. I'm not prepared for such questions.

"But I was never an option for you, was I?" he smiled bitterly and my heart ached to see it. I never wanted to hurt Takashi, especially not this much.

"Takashi-" I would have said something, but I couldn't think of anything to say in response.

"We're done." he said and let me go.

Does Takashi still love me? No, that's impossible, Aki is his fiancée. Yet the very thought makes me happy.

The show is in two weeks and everything is pretty much ready. The last few weeks have been great with the others and I already miss them when I think I have to leave soon. But instead I'm enjoying the time I have left.

I thought about spending the day with the others as I have been, but none of them are free. Hakkai has a photo shoot, which Yuzuha of course accompanied him to. And I don't want to be alone with Takashi. Firstly because of Aki, although she's out of town at the moment, I sometimes feel that she's following my every move with Takashi. And on the other hand, I feel like the more I'm around him, the more I hurt him. And it really hurts to see Takashi sad. Besides, I can't really concentrate on the conversations because I'm lost in his beautiful face. And it really bothers me that I can't be near him like I used to. I miss every minute we used to spend together and sometimes I wish he was just my friend and no one would bother me when we were talking. I almost regret I was the person who ever introduced him to Aki. It may be selfish of me to want Takashi for myself, but he was mine.

I thought I'd take advantage of the time alone and go shopping. I hadn't spent time alone in a long time and I'd walk around places I hadn't been in a long time.

It's incredibly nice to be home and I'll find it hard to leave the place again. Japan is my home after all, along with the people I grew up with.

"Y/n? Is that Y/n?" I heard my name and looked around and saw familiar faces.

"Baji! It's been a long time." I greeted the boy.

"Mitsuya said you were home, it sounded pretty unbelievable." he said, surprised.

"Right? I can hardly believe I'm here myself." I said happily. I didn't think he would recognize me after all this time. I used to be friends with them as a friend of Takashi's, but we never spent enough time together to become close friends.

"Baji how long do I have to wait for you?" asked Takashi not seeing Baji talking to me.

"Oh, Takashi." I said happily as soon as I saw Takashi.

"Y/n?! What are you doing here?" he asked as soon as he looked at me.

"I came to go shopping." I replied, perhaps too cheerfully. "But I won't bother you anymore. It was good to see you Baji. Takashi, I'll see you later." I tried to hurry away, because I felt that if I stayed any longer I would be staring at Takashi again.

"Wait Y/n! Would you like to eat with us? We're on our way there, if you're up for it, we'd love to see you." Baji said kindly.

"Yes! That would be great." I said as if I had been waiting for this. I was going to spend the day with Takashi after all. Not that I mind, in fact I'm glad.

"When you graduate, you're welcome to come to America." I said to Baji. "Although I might move back home before you graduate." I added, but only Takashi laughed at my joke.

"Hey! I can't help it that veterinary school is so hard!" defended Baji himself at once.

"Sure, Baji, we believe you." Takashi also replied. We had fun watching Baji try to prove that it wasn't his fault that he was still studying, but he failed, and in the meantime Chifuyu sent him a message that there was an emergency in the shop, so he had to rush off.

"Say hello to Kazutora and Chifuyu too!" said Baiji before he left. And then there was an awkward silence. Suddenly I felt very embarrassed in Takashi's company, but nothing occurred to me to start a conversation.

"Do you need a ride home?" Takashi asked. Oh, I guess he doesn't want to spend time with me. Not that I wanted to, but it hurt a little.

"No thanks. I want to walk around the old neighborhood where we used to live." I said and got ready to leave.

"Thanks, I had a good time." I said and quickly left, not wanting to disturb him. I guess our friendship that we had really is gone.

"Can I come with you?" Takashi stopped me and I was very surprised, but I couldn't deny that he made me happy.

"If you like." I replied and we started our walk together. Maybe I was wrong and he would still like to spend time with me. I really hope that's the truth because it makes me very happy.

Takashi and I walked around the old neighborhood and talked reminiscing. Back then everything was so calm and I never had to worry about what Takashi thought of me and that maybe I should stay away from him. We used to be almost inseparable and I wish that was true now. I don't want to have Aki standing between us all the time, the one who keeps me from talking to Takashi, the most important person in my life.

"I really miss the days when I'd come over to your house after school and we'd talk till late." I said my thoughts.

"Me too, but I miss you the most." he said, and suddenly I couldn't even answer. "I mean our friendship." he corrected himself in confusion. So not only do I miss him, but he misses me too. It couldn't have been a nicer thing to happen today.

"Takashi you know-" I wanted to tell him my thoughts but I was interrupted.

"Hi! Sorry to bother you, but you look beautiful, can I have your number?" a stranger asked and I just blinked wide in surprise.

"Sorry, no." I replied and turned back towards Takashi to continue the conversation.

"It'll just be a few minutes. I can't leave you with this, you're too beautiful for that." The boy continued, not wanting to realize it was time to go.

"Still no." I replied, but the guy was trying so hard he grabbed my hand.

"Dude understand he doesn't want anything from you." Takashi said quite angrily. I could feel him getting more and more tense around me, but I guess he could take it so far.

"I'm not talking to you." he said dismissively, still holding my hand, which I couldn't pull away from him.

"And he's not talking to you. Let her go now." Takashi said threateningly, but the guy felt very brave and hit Takashi. In shock I just watched as Takashi hit him back and the kid fell to the ground, which would have been fine if there hadn't been more of them.

"Takashi let's get out of here" I took the boy by the hand and we started running with five other people following us. Why do people like him have to find me now? Even Takashi is húrt becuse of me for being too pretty.

We ran all the way to a small alley and shook those idiots off.

"You know, I was in a gang. I was gonna take care of them." Takashi said while still hugging me for the small space.

"I know, but I didn't want you to get hurt any worse than that. Look what happened to your face anyway." I said looking at his wound.

"It's no big deal, as long as you're okay." he smiled sweetly.

"I'm sorry. I only attract trouble." I said regretfully.

"Then maybe I should be around you all the time to bail you out." he said jokingly.

"You'd just be holding me back. Look, I'm the reason we got saved this time." I said, looking him in the eye. Were his eyes always that beautiful?

"And you got us into this because you're too beautiful." He said and I blushed slightly at his praise, though it didn't change much because I was already red enough from his closeness.

"Takashi." I said his name as I leaned closer to him. This isn't right, and I still want to kiss him.

"Y/n?" he pronounced my name so nicely that I said the first thing that came to mind.

"I love you." I said and kissed my childhood best friend who was engaged to be married. I'm a terrible person. Yet I enjoy it and I never want this moment to end.

"We mustn't!" I said as soon as we parted and got out of the situation as fast as I could.

What an idiot I am! How could I say I loved him and kissed him? I mean he didn't disagree either, but it was still wrong. I shouldn't be feeling this way about Takashi at all, yet I can't wipe the smile off my face. I really am in love with Takashi. I don't know how long, but this is the worst possible timing, because I don't stand a chance.

I didn't sleep all night and I didn't go to work, pretending to be sick. I can't face Takashi like this, let alone the others. It's a good thing Aki isn't here, because just the thought makes me ashamed. She may not be able to stand me and wish me to turn up, but I'm not her. I'm ashamed to feel this way about a friend's fiancé and kiss him to boot. But I don't regret doing it. I really am a horrible person! I just left Takashi after what I said.

I have no idea what I should say to him after that. I mean, I couldn't deny it anymore, but I'd never ask him to leave Aki. I can't stand between two people who love each other. But I feel like I can't clear things up until I talk to Takashi, and that'll be painful. I'm not going to hurt him now, I'm going to hurt myself, because I don't want to reject him again, but I can't give him a home here. We live too different lives and I doubt I can make Takashi happy at the moment.

With so many thoughts in my head, I couldn't sleep, so I left for Takashi's at 2am and just hoped that Aki wasn't home yet.

I stood in front of the door for a few minutes because I was afraid of what would happen if I rang the doorbell. I finally did with great difficulty, but my adrenaline was pumping.

"Y/n? Everything okay?" Takashi asked as soon as he saw me on the other side of the door.

"Can I come in?" I asked, trying to see if Aki was there or not.

"Come in, I'm alone." he said as if he knew what I was thinking.

I sat down on the couch and as my adrenaline levels dropped so did my courage, so we just sat in silence for a while.

"Takashi I'm sorry." I suddenly stated and wanted to continue but no words came out.

"You don't have to be sorry. You didn't do anything that should make you feel that way." Takashi said kindly.

"Of course not! You have a fiancée! Who is a friend of mine!' Besides, I said something that didn't mean anything!" I blurted out.

"Why shouldn't it matter? It meant a lot to me, Y/n." Takashi said, and as much as those words make me feel good, they don't ease my guilt.

"No! It can't mean much to you or me because you have a fiancée! Takashi it was in vain what we did and what I said. Forget it." I said and wanted to end it all, but Takashi didn't think so when he stopped me.

"Forget it? Y/n do you know how much that one kiss and three word meant to me? I don't know how long I've been waiting for this and you're asking me to forget it?" Takashi snapped and now he was the first time to yell at me.

"We're not teenagers anymore who can just do that. You're about to start your future with Aki, and I'm leaving! Do you think such a flare-up is worth anything?" I asked angrily.

"A flare-up? Is that all it would be to you? Y/n you mean everything to me! I've waited all my life for you and for you to love me back! I would give up anything for you!" he looked me in the eyes and I saw that everything he said was true. "I don't love Aki I never did, if I have to this minute I'll break the engagement."

"I can't do that Takashi. I'm sorry." I turned my back on him and left.

"I love you Y/n!" he said before I walked out the door. Don't do it Takashi, please don't.

I made it all the way to the elevator, but there I broke out in a crying fit. I love Takashi, maybe I always have, but I couldn't make him happy. His home is here, and mine doesn't exist. I couldn't give him the home he deserves. And the guilt won't let me rest. I've never felt such pain in my life. I don't want to leave Takashi, but I must do it now rather than do more harm than I can, because I'm only here temporarily. I've already done more than I should have.

Tomorrow is the show and everything is ready. I am excited to be on the runway in Takashi's clothes, they are all amazing.

I got the job in Italy which I am incredibly grateful for and I can't believe I am realizing my childhood dream of living and modeling there. Hakkai and Yuzuha were happy with me when I told them. Takashi was also happy for me, but I could see that he couldn't be as happy as Hakkai, for example, and it made me sad, although what did I expect. And Aki didn't even congratulate me, but I wasn't surprised or moved, because she had treated me so badly in the last few weeks that I didn't even recognize her. And I learned many things about her from Yuzuha that gave me a clear picture of her. Now I understand why people don't like Aki and tolerate her just because of Takashi. But I don't know why Takashi tolerates her if he doesn't like her.

Aki hates me and doesn't deserve Takashi, I'm jealous of her, but I still let her through because she can give Takashi what he deserves more, which is a home. I don't have a home, not even to give to someone else.

With Takashi I tried to behave the same way as before, but it was difficult, especially during the dress rehearsals. He, on the other hand, was a bit ignorant that we almost didn't speak since then, which must have been noticed by everyone, but no one said a word.

"Y/n-chan what time does your flight leave tomorrow?" asked Hakkai as we took a break.

"Eight o'clock at night. So I'll run straight to the airport from here." I outlined my plans for tomorrow night.

"Can't you stay another day?" asked Hakkai sadly.

"I'm afraid not. I've got a meeting the next day that I can barely make because of the time difference." I replied.

"But Taka-chan will be sad too ami-" Hakkai would have said if Yuzuha hadn't nudged her shoulder again. "I mean we'll all be sad." Oh, how sad I'm going to be.

"We'll keep in touch for now. And I'll come home when I can." I smiled at them. "Maybe-" I would have said, but I heard Akit yelling and we started eavesdropping.

"I'm sick of you thinking about Y/n all the time! Listen to me for a second, I'm your fiancée!" I heard Aki's voice who was arguing a lot with Takashi. Hakkai and Yuzuha looked at each other, but neither of us understood exactly what was happening.

"Should I stop? Me stop it Taka? Is your dear Y/n sitting outside and not listening to what we are discussing? Because what if she does? What if she finds out that you still love her the same after all these years? Nothing will happen, because she doesn't love you, she never did. You can tell her your feelings again, but it will go away like it did seven years ago!" continued Aki. Oh, Aki is a bit wrong, but it's positive that she doesn't suspect anything.

"Aki! Really stop this now! Why are you bringing this up now? How did Y/n even come up?" Takashi also raised his voice.

"Of course, you don't want to talk about it now! Maybe you forgot that I was with you when she broke your heart! And who knows what Y/n was doing in America until then. Or rather with whom-" Aki would have continued my insult, but Takashi wouldn't let him.

"You can't talk about Y/n like that! She has never done anything to give you the right to talk about her like that!" said Takashi in a serious tone and I was happy that he defended me like that.

"She never did anything? She took everything from me! She became an international model which was my dream! Our friends are the same and she didn't show up for seven years, but she shows up now and they're more with her than with me! And besides, all you did was take one look at her and you're addicted to her again! Yet she did nothing. Of course, she's the innocent little Y/n." Aki said more and more aggressively. I can't help being better than her.

"I can't help it that she's lovable unlike you!" said Takashi as Aki's words trailed off.

"Tomorrow she's leaving again, leave you here without thinking. And then order will be restored here, so let's forget this conversation." Aki said, still angry. I really can only do harm.

"Fine, let's forget it. But I'm going to hold you for good. Here, be happy." Takashi said and if the others thought it right he gave the ring back to Aki. We didn't hear anything else, we only saw Aki crying as she stormed off. Takashi is single now, no one to hurt. But after the way I hurt Takashi, I have no right to say anything. And Aki is right that they are staying and I am leaving.

"We finally got rid of that girl!" said Yuzuha happily.

"Taka-chan! You've done well!" said Hakkai happily.

"You guys aren't sorry? She's your friend." I asked, not that I was that sorry, but still she was one of the reasons why I hurt Takashi.

"No. She's been trying to act like you for years, but she's been really bad and annoying." Yuzuha reasoned, to which I nodded in agreement.

"However, it's one less model. We won't find one until tomorrow." Takashi reminded us.

"I'll take Aki's part too." I offered.

"That won't work. You won't have enough time." Takashi said right away.

"Come on. Do you think they only invited me to America to model because I'm beautiful?" asked I smiling as they thought about it and realised I was right.

Takashi adjusted the clothes for me and we were fully ready for tomorrow night.

"Takashi.. thank you for not letting Aki insult me." I smiled at the boy.

"You have nothing to thank me for. You know I still love you, so I would never let anyone hurt you." He replied with a smile. I don't want to leave Takashi, I don't want to live without him again.

I'm incredibly excited for tonight. This whole charity night was Takashi's idea and it was his idea for me to be here, so it should be a good night.

"Y/n-chan! Are you listening?" asked Hakkai when he noticed I wasn't paying attention.

"No, I was watching Takashi." I said honestly.

"You've been thinking about him all day, pay some attention to me." Hakkai tried, but he couldn't. I couldn't take my eyes off Takashi who was wearing a suit. It was just a beautiful sight.

I tried my best not to think about Takashi on the runway and it was difficult but I succeeded. I concentrated hard not to mess anything up and I did it. Although I'm really not a professional model who is moving to Italy for nothing.

I'm moving to Italy… Then I won't get to see Takashi every day. But I can't stand that, I need my daily Takashi. I won't be able to hear his voice or smell his scent. But I can't, because I'll be happy. What should I do now? I can't cancel my trip, it's my dream. But I can't leave Takashi, because I don't want to. Damn it, I just realized how much I love him.

After Takashi thanked everyone for coming, I hurried to change. I asked Hakkai, Yuzuha and Takashi to walk me to the airport, because I thought it would give me more time to think about what I should do.

"Call me when you can." Hakkai said, touched.

"Don't forget us." Yuzuha hugged me.

"Make your dream come true Y/n." Takashi smiled kindly at me.

"Wait a minute! I can't do this." I said in total panic. All three of them looked at me confused, not understanding what was wrong with me.

"Takashi I love you! I'm sorry for all the words I said to you. Maybe I really can't make you happy, but let me try. So come with me!" I said, looking him straight in the eye. Takashi looked at me in complete surprise, he was getting more and more confused.

"Remember when you asked me what I would have done if I had returned your feelings seven years ago? I would have stayed. But now I'm asking you to come with me and live my dream with me. It may be a selfish request, but please Takashi," I said with all my thoughts.

"Is that really what you want Y/n?" asked Takashi doubting me.

"I want this more than anything! Because I love you Takashi!" I said happily.

"Fine. I'll go with you."

[cottonlemonade]

Confessions After Hours

word count: 1124 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: Akiteru x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers

warnings: like one time swearing

synopsis: accidental confession

You looked outside the café windows for the fourth time in the last 5 minutes, it was past closing time, all the cleaning was done and your fellow part-timers had already left. So you just tried to find some busy work to have a somewhat legitimate reason to stall. The rain was getting worse and by now you were pretty sure Akiteru wouldn’t come.

It’s not like it was an actual plan, you reminded yourself, it was just kind of implied that he wanted to walk you home but no one could expect him to go out in this weather.

And so you hummed to yourself while carefully brushing down mint leaves and edible flowers with egg whites and sugar.

Your mood dropped a little when you checked the clock again. You had been looking forward to spending time alone with Akiteru.

Of course, you had little hope that he was interested in you romantically but that didn’t stop you from dreamily staring at him during study sessions or making a fool of yourself whenever possible - like running into a glass door when he smiled at you like last week.

When you laid the sugar-coated decoration out on a baking sheet, a familiar figure caught your eye.

He stood on the other side of the road, waiting for a safe crossing. Quickly you walked over to the front door to unlock it and let him in.

“Ugh, wet.”, he commented, waddling in.

“Why didn’t you bring an umbrella?”, you asked incredulously when he pulled back his drenched hood and shook his soaked hair like a dog.

“We only have one and one of the others got it tonight.”, he explained as if that was normal.

You swallowed the start of what would probably be a rather long discussion about why it wasn’t smart that 4 roommates shared a singular umbrella and so instead opted for “You should get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death.”

He gave you an overly dramatic look of shock, clutching his soaked collar like a Victorian lady.

“Oh, grow up!”

Together you peeled him out of his hoodie (his t-shirt underneath was dry for the most part) and you considered the dripping bulk of fabric for a second, before making a decision.

Wringing out as much of the excess water as possible over the kitchen sink, you then opened the still-warm oven from the banana bread you made earlier and placed the black hoodie on a baking sheet inside.

Akiteru watched you with crossed arms and then asked in complete earnest, “How long do you think it needs?”

“I don’t know, Akiteru. I have never baked hoodie before. I’d give it like 5 minutes and then I’ll turn it over. We’ll see.”

To warm him up you brewed him a big mug of coffee in the already cleaned machine. A gesture that didn’t fail to impress. “I have never felt this special in my life.” He wrapped his large hands around the steaming cup and breathed in the cozy coffee scent.

“Don’t get used to it.”, you said, smiling, taking a sandwich and a bowl of fruit you had prepared for him earlier out of the fridge.

“This café has such excellent service. Thank you.”

You pulled a folder of various papers from a shelf, turning pages as if to check things - he didn’t need to know that you were just pretending. “So, how is the Kei situation - still hating the club?”

“Not so much hating, I’d say indifferent, which somehow is almost worse.”

“How come?”

“At least hate would indicate a strong emotion.”, he said wisely, plopping a grape in his mouth and feeding you one, too, while you were “busy” tapping something on your phone’s calculator and writing gibberish numbers on a slip of paper. When his fingertips accidentally brushed your lips in the process your brain came to a full stop.

“But the spring tournament is right around the corner and I am almost sure he is actually starting to enjoy himself - a little.”

Another grape.

He took a sip of coffee and sighed.

“Your coffee tastes like a hug.”

Your eyes lit up. “I… that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. You mean, like a good hug though, right? Not one of those half-assed one-armed thingies.”

He spluttered into his mug and coughed to clear his throat.

“Yes, a good hug. Both arms, full body contact. I am talking full-on cocoon.”

With a bragging smile, brain still fried, you said “I’ve been told I give pretty amazing hugs like that.” proudly pushing your chin up.

“Oh yeah? Well then let’s see what you got.”

You thought for a second, then dropped your highly important paperwork back on the counter. “Let’s have a look at your hoodie first, don’t want it to get too dark.”

A moment later you stood across from each other stretching as if getting ready for a fight. “Alright, give it your all.”, he said and opened his arms.

He had been ready for a lot of things. He had held your hand before, when navigating through a crowd (only as friends of course), so he was no stranger to the tingles your touch sent through his body.

What he hadn’t been ready for was your head to be leaning against his chest and your hands gently stroking over his back. He returned the hug immediately, placing one hand on your back and one gently cradling your head, resting his cheek against your temple. A perfect fit. It was better than he had ever imagined. Where did they even make people as soft and heavenly squishy as you? For many hasty heartbeats, he held you like this. Then you gave the smallest sigh and actually snuggled even closer to him. He couldn’t take it. It was too much. And so without thinking in one quiet breath, he let out, “Shit, I’m so in love with you.”

He felt you stiffen in his arms and prepared for the worst. You lifted your head to look at him, your eyes sleepy like you had been about to doze off.

Akiteru loosened his arms so you could pull away like you undoubtedly were going to. But you didn't.

"I'm... I'm sorry that was really stupid.", he said quickly.

"Don't worry, I accidentally tried freezing a cucumber last week. You're good.", you said in a drowsy sort of way.

"What?"

"What?"

He didn't know what to do. You hadn't pulled away. You weren't screaming or running away or hitting him. Instead, you got on your tip-toes, a hand on his chest, and smiled, before you set the softest kiss against his surprised lips.

[ozzgin]

I've been rewatching One Punch Man and the thought about a painfully average looking reader being so strong is stuck in my head

Like maybe the reader works at like a small restaurant that she's been working at for basically all her life and she just get so strong from doing basic chores and having the mental capacity to deal with bad customers

Maybe like one of the baki characters went to try the restaurant out and maybe gotten a big crush on the waiter, whose being harassed by some rando

But before the can tell the guy to scurry on out of here or get a swing at him, she just completely knocks him out with like a punch to the face or something, and maybe the guy was really big like nearly the size of a bear

Or we can take the Garou route and say that Yujiro decided to try the restaurant out just cause' and is like really demanding, enough to get the reader pissed and correct their behavior

And their way of correcting behavior is basically "stop that" and then BAM, they suddenly he's transported in an alleyway somewhere, conveniently forgetting what happened before

Ooo, just imagine the reaction of the baki characters like your crush basically is the strongest person in the world, Yujiro doesn't even compare

Knocked him away with a simple punch even when he's fully prepared for her

This silly idea basically was brewing in my mind, and since this has lots of Yuji bullying, I thought you might like it

Funnily enough I have an older request that was in queue to be answered with basically the same concept! By the way, turns out I've already written a reader knocking out Yuujirou in one blow! I hope I haven’t built myself a reputation as a Yuujirou bully, although this post won’t help my cause.

Also, the whole idea of reader being insanely strong from menial labor reminds me a lot of Hajime no Ippo. Main character turns out to have top tier boxing potential from working at his mom’s fishing business and carrying heavy crates for the clients. Safe to say I like the reasoning a lot!

Baki Headcanons: One Punch! Reader

I’m leaving Yuujirou as a final opponent so to say, because otherwise the whole thing would be finished in 5 minutes. Imagine the anime intro with slideshows of nature scenery, and the narrator dramatically elaborating the plot and explaining why Yuujirou is the strongest creature on Earth. And literally the next panel he’s unconscious and reader awkwardly stares at the camera. Narrator coughs and has to mumble “Well I guess that’s it” and the curtains fall. That was it. That was the whole story.

So I’m going to go for a random buff stranger to showcase Reader’s strength. You have just finished taking Baki’s order. Maybe he took some of the men out to discuss certain matters. Maybe he wants to ask Retsu, Katsumi, Jack and Hanayama about their encounter with Pickle before his fight, to get some insight. He’s heard Katsumi has a big crush on the waitress here, so he picked the spot more as a joke to tease the Karate master. While attending the table there’s giggles, side glances and elbow nudges and you can only wonder why Katsumi refuses to speak (usually he’s very chatty with you) and the others have a grin on their face.

As you walk away, you notice your newer coworker struggling to handle a customer. He’s bowing repeatedly and apologizing for his mistake to a man wearing an indifferent yet sour expression. The large man begins to raise his voice and throws in a few inappropriate insults, so you gently push your coworker away, hinting that he should leave it to you, and you promptly take his place.

The customer seems to think you’re some higher up, next in line to beg for his forgiveness or perhaps suggest a discount as a peace offering. Nonetheless, he wants to make sure you understand your situation, so he stands up. Before he can open his mouth, you loudly and curtly exclaim “We unfortunately do not accept this kind of behavior. Leave, now.”

Several people have now turned their heads as the tension increases. Katsumi is uneasy and the rest of the men are also quiet, observing the unfolding event. Baki discreetly exits his booth, ready to interfere in case the situation escalates.

The man is visibly angered by your lack of fear. Once several of his threats go unanswered, he lifts his hand. By this point Baki is walking towards you. You sigh, not wanting to cause a scene. The whole thing happens rather fast, no one is entirely sure what they just witnessed, but the window is shattered, the stranger is crumpled on the sidewalk and covered in glass shards and you’re standing next to his table, fist clenched and bloodied up.

Calling the men ‘baffled’ would be an understatement. You have to explain several times that no, you’re not a professional fighter and you’ve never trained a day in your life. In fact, you’ve been working at this restaurant from the moment you could walk. It’s your family’s treasured business and you can’t see yourself doing anything else. Retsu is bewildered and demands to have your skills tested, because you could turn out to be a fearful martial arts user. A whole argument ensues and you compromise on joining them to the Underground Arena to demonstrate how far your strength goes. This evening only, and then you’re back serving customers.

Once you defeat Yuujirou, however, you’ve sealed your fate. You can’t just demolish the Ogre with one blow and walk away as if nothing happened…

*Now this is just a random thought that immediately came to mind when reading the request. Since Reader can easily beat Yuujirou, imagine the amount of people feeling like they’ve finally been avenged. It could even be a whole arranged spectacle. You know those fairs from cartoons, where one person sits above a small pool and you pay to throw a ball towards a target in order to drop them into the water? Same concept, really. There’d be a never ending line of people that have been wronged by Yuujirou somehow, so they throw some coins and Reader goes in for another punch. Yuujirou destroyed your gym? Threatened you on the street? Scared you so much you wet yourself? Gather around and enjoy the show for a small price.

[anamelessfool]

Ribbons & Ties (AO3 Link)

GEN, M/M

Terzo x Omega, Terzo & Family, Cardinal Marian is in there for like ten minutes

Tags: Domestic Fluff, Commitment, Rom Com Energy, There's a Wedding, Secondo is Papa Emeritus, Gift Giving, I can't have Fluff without some Angst sorry

For reasons beyond Terzo's understanding, he wants to give Omega a present for the ghoul's "birthday". It proves to be a lot more complicated than Terzo realizes.

Art by @kabukiaku used with permission

Chapter 1 Below the Cut! (We like Reblogs, Comments and Kudos omnomnom)

2006

I was an impossible case. No-one ever could reach me... But I think I can see in your face there's a lot you can teach me...So I wanna know what's the name of the game?

1

Papa Elect Terzo tried to look busy. He attempted a regal sigh, a pace. Killed time with what he hoped was a thoughtful, intelligent stare out his office window. He did everything possible to bide time while he collected his thoughts in a way that would hide his true intentions.

This was all about Omega.

He had called Cardinal Marian, Sister Imperator’s Personal Assistant not due to any sort of friendship or confidence. His brother Papa Emeritus Secondo barely considered him as human these days and with his wedding a week away he had bigger things to fuss about.

Terzo’s other two ghouls Earth and Alpha could not be trusted to answer honestly. And Brother Copia was, well…Copia.

So then that left Marian.

She was obligated by her job description to interact with him as he needed. For business purposes, of course.

And buying the right birthday present for Omega Ghoul was definitely a high stakes business venture as far as Papa Elect Terzo was concerned.

“Thank you for your time,” Terzo said, pressing his hands together and slightly bowing.

“Hey, anything to give me a break from planning my ex-partners’ wedding,” she replied with an indifferent shrug, although her eyes looked bleary. “How yinz doing on musical entertainment for that, by the way?”

“I have a few choir selections, and I have been working with Papa’s ghouls and my own on some light entertainment during the dinner. Copia has been fussing with finding the right wedding march on the organ for about six weeks now.” And Terzo had been locking his office doors to keep Copia from talking his ear off about it for about six weeks as well. “So…all coming together.”

“Great. Want to be perfect. For them.” She didn't sound too enthused. "But don't worry, I'm completely fine about it." Marian froze, then patted her sides. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Please don't, it gets into the curtains,” said Terzo.

Marian slumped in her chair slightly. “Ok, now you have to tell me the real reason I’m here.”

Terzo closed his eyes and collected himself. “I need some help picking out a gift. For a friend. I'm having trouble,” he said.

“Don’t you give people shit all the time? Flowers, erotic notes, pornographic photography, whatever…” Marian raised an eyebrow. “People talk. In the Dining Hall. A lot.”

Terzo winced and then gave her a defeated shrug. “This is em…different.”

At that Marian’s face immediately switched into a wicked grin. She leaned forward on his desk, hand on her chin with such force her biretta hat went crooked. “Why? Why is it different, huh?”

“Because…” And then Terzo threw her a haughty scowl. “I don’t need to tell you. You work for me, sorella. This is a business meeting. A consulation.”

“Fine, suit yourself.” She glanced at the clock. “But If I’m your employee you’ve got like ten minutes to spit it out before I leave for the day. So…what is it?”

“Omega…is an important friend to me. I want a gift that is…worthy of him.” Terzo started to pace again. “Something that is special, but ghouls are difficult to shop for! They don’t need to eat, or drink. Omega doesn’t seem to want to visit anywhere or do anything beyond whatever I want to do…”

“Well, isn’t he…basically you?”

“Yes but also, no.”

“And you’re psychically linked, right?” Marian thoughtlessly played with her pen, clicking it idly. “So, even if you wanted it to be a surprise, he’d already sort of know about it.”

“Cazzo, you see now why this would be so difficult?!”

Marian shrugged. “It’s the thought that counts, at the end of the day.”

“I know that,” Terzo snapped. It was definitely the thought that counted.

Except, he had never truly sincerely thought about someone else when giving a gift before. And that is what made his hands clammy and his mind race.

Terzo decided he needed to gift something really important. Something that reflected how much his heart pounded when Omega held him. Something that was big, essential, eternal. Just like his ghoul.

“A…a diamond! Yes.”

Marian smirked. “A diamond? For your very best friend?”

“Yes…” Terzo began weakly, but then remembered Marian's status as his minion. He frowned into her. “Yes, a diamond.”

“Whatever,” she replied, then opened her steno pad. “Although you know purchases over a certain amount I got to run through Treasury Director Brother Copia.”

“Then forget the diamond,” Terzo backpedaled.

Marian checked the clock on the wall again and snapped her notepad shut. “Ok, fine I've dated quite a few guitarists over the years and they like practical stuff. Like, for their instrument. How about um…a guitar strap, huh?”

“How about a guitar strap?” suggested Terzo.

Marian frowned. “What's his favorite color?”

“Erm—black.”

“Second favorite color?” Marian sighed.

“Violet, he likes violet!”

“Violet and black guitar strap, coming right up,” Marian intoned. “And look, you got ninety more seconds until I go home, is there anything else you need, your Eminence?”

“No, that would be all.” Terzo returned to staring out the window with an extra dramatic flourish of his black cardinal cassock. He took a breath, feeling his nerves start to settle as he heard the squeak of Cardinal Marian's chair as she exited. All of a sudden he had a thought. "Oh, and Marian?"

"Twenty seconds left, your Eminence." Marian's hand was already on the doorknob.

"You're certain he'll like that?"

Marian's brow furrowed, but then it seemed like a thought passed through her, and her expression softened. "Of course," she said, "Who wouldn't like a gift?"

My AO3 | Tumblr Fic List | My Terzo/Omega Fics

Chapter 2 here

[dlatl98]

Immediately after the sinking of Beleriand, gold coins and jewels would often wash up on the shore.

Annatar hated talking stupid. Who likes that? But sadly, Annatar had to say something stupid before he could say it, even though he knew it would be completely stupid. So he was doubly pitiful and hated it. But he had to do it.

"Tyelpe. There's something I'm worried about with the submarine we were building before…" "Oh, does it work?" "No. There are too many fools applying for test runs."

"It's not fools, it's bravery." "……Your humanity is always admirable. But they're fools. And even fools act on their own foolish grounds. The grounds are foolish and the principles they apply are foolish, so they become fools." “This is a long editorial. If you don’t want to talk, just stop.” "……."

Celebrimbor chuckled as Annatar glared at him. Annatar may have been the one who really didn't want to talk, but he probably did because he had to talk. Even though he feel sorry for himself for saying these things. If he measure the index of the displeased face, it is a 3 for the displeased face.

"A lot of those fools are treasure hunters. They are excited that you, of all people, are building a submarine and recruiting pilots, and that is proof that one of their fantasies is true."

“What about that fantasy?” "Your uncle, the treasure of Caranthir."

"Aha."

Celebrimbor snickered. “If it were my uncles’ treasure, it would be my lovely self.”

"………"

"Smile a little."

"That was the third most pathetic joke I've ever had."

“I can’t believe I only came in third place! I’ll do my best.”

Celebrimbor said seriously, exaggerating, and looked into the distance. Looking at those vague eyes, Annatar had no choice but to speak.

"Beleriand is on the other side."

"……Not everyone can be like you, knowing your direction no matter where you look and where you go. Anyway, that rumor has been around for a long time. It's been a long time since Beleriand sank. It would be more solid to dive into the sea to find the Silmarils."

"Not really."

Annatar was indifferent because he had no interest or affection for the Silmarils. He thought that if something was magically amazing enough to be exciting, it had to have some practical function other than its beauty. And he was also negative about Caranthir's treasure. Caranthir's wealth was great on the surface, but……he knew from running an army and a country that both were very money-consuming businesses and low-efficiency businesses that required constant investment and rotation of resources to ensure productivity. And if you remember the squalor of the Feanorions in their later years, it's probably nothing. Or maybe it's real estate that can never be converted into cash. There really is value in real estate under the water. Celebrimbor shrugged.

"I don't have anything like that." "Yes." "Everyone misunderstands Uncle Moryo's, but he didn't like to waste his wealth by burying it underground or in a safe. He didn't have any hidden treasures. He thought that the greatest value of assets was whether he could mobilize them when needed. Of course, he didn't have any hidden treasures in safes or secret places because he was worried about looting, but he considered such treasures to be dead money and tried to minimize them. He was a person who thought that if they didn't circulate, it wouldn't be an economy. And Uncle Moryo's……"

Celebrimbor smiled. "He died before his brothers. So strictly speaking, Uncle Moryo's treasures don't exist. They were inherited by his other uncles. In principle, they all belong to Uncle Kano. I was disinherited and brothers closer than nephew." "……."

Annatar was not ignorant of the fact that if Curufin had died later than Caranthir's in that fight, some would say that Celebrimbor should have inherited. And then the next words made him forget that thought. "And I spent all that money. To build Eregion and invest in Lorinand." "……So, like the vagrants say, your uncle's treasure really existed?" "What do you mean? There was no vault or buried in the ground?" "So you're saying there was a treasure?"

"Yes, but would my uncle's huge fortune just melt into thin air and disappear? The largest part of my uncle's fortune was the lost territory, but my uncle had invested a lot here and there for safety before that. About 100 years after my uncle Kano disappeared… a dwarf came. He said that he was from the family of Uncle Moryo's steward, and that if my uncle did not show his intention to inherit and come to receive it, it would be considered a refusal of the inheritance, so the right of inheritance would go to me, who was next in line. When I tried to refuse, he told me to accept it because it was my uncle's wish, and that if I did not use it for a good purpose, the money would just rot away, and that I should think about my memories of my uncle. He said that he would never like that. It was hard to refuse…"