#anyways the second piece is supposed to be kind of minimalist but one of my friends has said it's evocative. so onto the blog it goes.

[pigswithwings]

wait haha ive been doodling i forgot

[br-disaster]

Nie Huaisang’s outfits appreciation post

After the terrible loss of our second best dressed cultivator and fashion icon Nie Mingjue, the cultivation world now lacks one of it’s pillars. But little did they know, our fashion king had a disciple, someone capable of honoring his legacy in many ways.

While we all grief, a new icon rises.

And I’m here to prove that Nie Huaisang deserves his late brother’s title not only because Mingjue’s no longer serving looks -may his fashionable soul rest in peace-, but because Huaisang has always been a stylish icon on his own.

I mean, this look right here is enough proof:

 Huaisang has quite a lot of robes, and they are all so different, I decided to compile them chronologically:

1. the “assigned fashionable at birth”one

Look at this small bean with his cream-colored robes. Whoever chose this color for him did a great job, though it’s a bit weird that they looked at baby Mingjue and went “all you’ll wear is dark gray from now on” and then Huaisang was born and “cream it is!” And we don’t really see anybody else from the Nie sect wearing this color, I wonder if it has anything to do with Huaisang’s mom, or if it’s just for the dark\light color contrast,  the two young masters can’t possibly wear the same colors, it would ruin the aesthetic.

 It looks just like his main-possibly-stay-at-home-robes, like he just really loved this especific set and had a lot of other robes that looked just the same growing up.

Really small, really cute, makes you want to carry him around saying: look at my baby, he’s so stylish!

2. the “good old Gusu days” one

This is like a uniform, there’s nothing really special about it. But I’d like to point out two things:

One: the silver embroidery on the shoulders and the silver on his waist belt matches the pristine white of his robes really well.

Two: look how wide his shouders look, there you go, Huaisang, keeping the Nie shoulder game strong!

3. The “it’s called fashion, dage” one

Cream-colored again! It embodies teen!Huaisang’s aesthetic perfectly: it’s expensive, it’s pretty, it looks comfortable, but it’s minimalistic.

I mean, I have no idea if it is actually expensive, but it surely looks expensive.

It has no discernable patterns, but the fabric just looks so good, look at the texture. It looks warm and heavy (rip Ji Li). And it’s pleated, look at him! Everything about this one screams rich-carefree-spoiled-delicate-pretty-gongzi.

And well, we see him strolling around and getting in trouble instead of going straight home in this robes, then on Fatal Journey we see him painting landscapes instead of practicing and claiming he doesn’t want to become the Nie sect leader in this very set of robes. Maybe he has indeed been wearing similar robes since his childhood and wants to, you know, go back to when things were as simple as taking the long way home coming back from Gusu.

4. the “didn’t really engage on the war but needed to look good regardless” one

This one is so pretty, y’all. It’s silver and white and gray, the brothers  are matching with their disciples’ robes, you won’t find a Sect with a superior fashion sense.

I can totally understand why he didn’t change to some post-Sunshot robes. Imagine looking this good at home, with none of your friends or disciples or brother to see you. Nope. This robes belong to a banquet, even one as unpleasing and akward as this one.

(They technically saw him, since he wore the same robes while they were planning the whole Sunshot thing, but no one was paying attention to it, right? And you can’t let such a nice look go to waste)

One of my favorites, for sure. It even matches his fan. It’s peak aesthetic.

5. the “I’m only here for the food and the drama” one

I didn’t really like this one at first. It looked kinda futuristic in my head, you know? It’s probably just the really structured fabric and the color, but It was a bit too much.

But now, looking at it as I take screenshots, I like them. It’s bold and fierce and remember the shoulder accessories being a code for battle? Well, I doubt Huaisang shot a single arrow that day, but he was supposed to be competing, so it makes a lot of sense that he’s dressed like this while his brother is wearing his pretty, dark yet lighter civillian robes to watch him.

He’s even wearing epaulettes (well, I trust that that’s the name) that matches the ones Mingjue wore with his Sunshot robes! Are they the same pair? Did he borrow it? Or do they secretly comission the same robes and accessories  and wear them on alternate occasions?

These are the most battle-coded (and at the same time is not battle-coded at all, it’s too ostentatious) robes we see him wearing until now, and he is representing his sect at the hunt, he has to look like a proper heir that is capable of fighting, whether he likes it or not - and judging by how unenthusiastic he was during the opening shoot-the-wen-prisioners ceremony, I’d say he was not enjoying it at all-.

But it’s such a cool look, I really like it now.

6. the “he will throw hands with a non-corporeal entity while giving his big brother all the love and understanding he deserves” one

 This may look like the same robes we usually wears at home, but they lack the pleated part and I don’t think his long sleeves would fit inside his wirst thingy, which I now know it’s called a vambrace or a bracer,  they were quite wide sleeves.

Anyway, we again have his minimalistic aesthetic. No patterns, the only addition being the outer robe that realy looks like the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, except with no sleeves; and the bracers\vambraces.

But look how different this looks in comparison with the previous one; he wasn’t fighting shit in those pompous silver robes, but he was so determined here, ready to face anything. This is the difference between a battle-coded look and a battle-codded Huaisang.

It’s practical, it’s pretty, looks comfortable and it’s perfect for scolding your older brother then comforting him because he gets emotional when people argue with him, ok?

Huaisang is the best younger brother, fight me

8.the “sad, sad” one

I’ll just say that the inner robes are really similar to the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, though they are not the same. Perhaps my theory that they did comission a lot of similar itens is correct after all.

I don’t think this look is particularly good, and the context surely doesn’t help at all, but it’s interesting to see him in gray and black.

 Overall, I hate it here.

9. the “somehow even worse” one

Look, if I had to compile all his outfits, I had to include this one. But there’s nothing to say about it except just looking at him wearing it makes me sad.

10. the “you didn’t see that coming, did you?” one

This one here is a trick, ok? At this point of the story we have no idea of what’s going on and if this misterious person is important or not; all we know is that he is quite fond of patterns and dark clothing. And that he has some money.

But damn, once we find out who this is, it instantly becomes something else entirely. 

It’s so fucking DARK!! It’s Wei Wuxian’s kind of dark, it’s crazy to think our boy Huaisang, who’s been wearing light grays, white and cream all his life would come up with something like that. It doesn’t even look Nie, and that’s probably what he was going for, y’know, so no one could recognize him and all of that.

But jesus, this look is just wow.  It’s perfect for a scheming mastermind, even though we don’t really know about it yet. The scales pattern is really nice and I love when he wears this sort of robe, with the fitted sleeves and the extra fabric at the shoulders. The flame (I think) pattern is nice too, though it’s a bit too much here, just a bit. But he seems to like this pattern a lot, so let him have it

And the craziest part is: we know these robes. And i’ve seen a couple of posts about them, it’s the same inner robe he wore at the Phoenix Mountain night hunt competition, almost 16 years ago. 

Like what are these robes made of??

11. the “sneaky, sneaky” one

The famous Nie pattern, am I right?

I love all theories about this one and as I took the screenshots, I noticed how his inner robe is the same as robe number 8. Huaisang says no to excessive buying, please reuse your clothes!

I’m particularly fond of the theory that Nie Mingjue comissioned robes for both his didi and his boyfriend Xichen, but I can accept that Huaisang just inherited his brother’s robes, though the flame pattern (once again proving we won’t guess Huaisang is behind everything not even after seeing him wearing the same patterns as in episode one twice) at the bottom is definetly a Huaisang thing.

I really like how heavy it looks, and the black thin stripe.We know it’s the same pattern as Xichen’s robe but seeing it combined with the back and light gray of the Nies really gives it a distinct identity.

12. the “and the oscar goes to...” one

Look at him, all innocent-looking placing all the chess pieces on their right places. Gotta love director Nie.  And it makes so much sense that he would wear something as light as this robes for this moment. He wore light colors for most of his youth, when he was carefree and naive and harmless; he cultivated a reputation of being dependent, fearful and stupid even. In this moment, more than ever, he needs people to believe this is exactly who he is, and what’s the best way of doing it?

Yes, reminding them of your old self. All he does is pretend and lie while he cries and faints.  A director and an actor too!

Throw yourself at your brother’s sworn brothers trying to look harmless while annoying the hell out of them? check.

Faint conveniently as your brother’s murderer lies at your face about killing said brother because even you have limits and you can’t watch that fuckery and not want to murder him right there? check.

Pretend to be stupid while conducting the protagonist and pretty much everybody else to ask the right questions and therefore unmask the terrible things your nemesis did?  also check.

And the robes are really pretty, look at the texture at the bottom right!! Silver and white go really well together. Wide, wide sleeves and this heavy-looking fabric. Superb, really, one of my favorites again.

And look at him carrying his saber (which he  probably left at Pier Lotus later)!

13. the “...and cut!” one

Look at these robes and tell me they don’t absolutely look like something Nie Mingjue would wear. You know he would. 

And it’s such a contrast to his previous robes. The white and silver one for looking innocent and lost and funny; the dark gray to look like a serious sect leader who will endorse the accusations against his enemy (Ok, he did act confused and lost and innocent in these robes, but he also showed real shock and grief and sadness, he did show his true feelings too)

He’s honoring his brother here, he did it, he brought justice to him, he defeated his brother’s murderer.  He spent years wanting and waiting for this moment, it’s only fair he would do so while looking so much like his beloved older brother.

I love everything about this look. The color palette is almost the same as the one robe his brother wore to the post-Sunshot campaign banquet. The dark,shining gray, the black, the thin bronze\golden stripe at the collar. Even that extra overlaid fabric at the bottom front of his robes is the same as Mingjue used to wear. Beautiful, really.

He would be really proud of you, I hope you know that, Huaisang.

14. the “I may or may not steal your chief cultivator status, watch out Wangji” one

I know he would never steal Wangji’s post, cql!NHS doesn’t even want it; but like, we deserved Chief cultivator!Huaisang, right? So it was worth the joke, I think.

The inner light gray robe yet AGAIN, I suspect this is his favorite inner robe.

We have some bold patterns here, so elegant. I really like when he wears this kind of outer robe, accentuating his shoulders, suits him really well, And this is such a Nie color palette, just like the previous one. In fact, Huaisang wears way more dark colors than we give him credit for. Especially after becoming sect leader. 

Sleeve game on point too, really long. And it matches his fan as well.

Lovely look, I wish we could have seen more.

In conclusion: 

King of versatility, resusing 16 year-old robes AND looking damn good while doing it! He looks good scheming, he looks good lying, he looks good fainting, he even looks good tricking people into stabbing other people!

 Name a more iconic king, I’ll wait.

[trashcankitty12]

Helia Headcanons

Helia Scofield, nephew of Saladin; Master Artist in the making.

Don’t let his soft demeanor and pacifistic leanings fool you; Helia’s up for the fight if he’s needed.

(All headcanons are mainly for my verses: Left and the New Company of Light. Fair warning.)

-Helia was born to Harley and Hannah Scofield.

-Hannah, Saladin’s twin (and the elder twin, thank you) is an illusion-based witch who works with her Great Uncle’s army. She’s a commander of the Pegasus Unit of the Callistan Army, and unlike her brother, tries to keep herself out of trouble.

-Harley’s more of a gentle soul who enjoys art and runs an art gallery in Callisto.

-As you can imagine, his parents, though loving to him and though they did love each other at one point, have had many disagreements about their lifestyles and what would be best for the family.

-Harley was more pacifistic while Hannah preferred to ‘face things head on’. (Both have great strategic minds though, and… Tended to use them against each other.)

-At a young age, Helia showed potential for magic. Hannah and Saladin tried to help hone his potential skills as a wizard, but the best he could do was simple spells to make himself faster and stronger than normal and to send magic notes. (And a few other minimalistic spells. He couldn’t do anything fancy like his mom and uncle though…)

-It didn’t really bum him out too much though. In fact, it was partially a relief that he wouldn’t have to worry about hurting someone with his magic if his feelings or concentration went out of control. And he had an easy way of keeping his utensils nearby while he was working.

-Helia was in a junior sword fighting league as a kid, something his Uncle Saladin and his mother were very proud of. (Though his father thought it reckless and dangerous and ugly… Even if there was a sort of elegance to sword fighting when done right.)

-He also participated in art clubs at his school and did his to earn high marks in elementary and middle school. (He tended to be a daydreamer and often spaced out in class, especially if the subject was boring to him. Which became another argument for his parents.)

-When he was about 12/13, his parents decided to divorce. Hannah relocated and deployed to serve in Magix at the Callistan Embassy (and to be closer to her brother). His father remained in Callisto.

-He was actually happy that they finally divorced, thrilled to never have to hear one of their ‘we’re not really arguing, just having a heated discussion’ sort of fights. Having to decide where to live and what his plans for the future, however, made him sick.

-His social anxiety was through the roof anyway, and on top of all of this… His art took a bit of a dark turn and so did his poetry.

-How dare his parents fight each other and then demand he choose? How dare they implode on him like this?

-(Faragonda and Griffin were honestly the best people during this time. And so were his childhood friends. They helped him keep his cool and realize what he wanted and how to go about talking to his parents about this stuff.)

-Helia left the sword fighting league, he never really enjoyed it anyway except for the moments he was benched and could sketch the matches. And he decided to stay with his father and enroll at the Callistan Art Academy. His mother was so proud that he wanted to follow his dreams, and agreed to weekends and holidays.

-(Honestly his parents were just happy that he was talking to them again instead of pushing them away. They were so worried, they even went to therapy so they could try and do better for Helia.)

-Helia stayed in touch with some of his sword fighting league friends and kept up with his childhood friends when he went to the Art Academy.

-He loved showing off his new works and talking his friends into being models for some of his works. (One of his favorite portraits is of his best guy friend posing with his new weapon after being accepted into Red Fountain.)

-His parents did move on from each other. On his dad’s side, he has a stepdad and a lovely younger stepsister who adores him. (And he has a half-brother on the way!!)

-His mom remarried a fellow soldier, Monroe. And Monroe has two children of their own; Seneca and Marie. (Older stepsisters… They’re loud and boisterous, but they mean well and Helia enjoys watching them pose and give him fashion shows to help out his own work.)

-Though he was only at the Academy for a short time, Helia discovered many things about himself. (And made friends with the Princess of Linphea who had gotten in despite her age. The fairy is truly gifted in making topiary art.)

-He loves his charcoal brushes and using colored pencils when doing sketches. Something about the way it moves on the paper just makes him so happy.

-And he does love to paint, though he’s not much for water colors. (And never ask him to do a digital piece. The last time he tried working with a tablet, he nearly got electrocuted. Granted, it was probably a one-time thing, but he took it as a sign.)

-Poetry is second love, aside from sketching and painting. He loves being able to verbalize his feelings and put the words down that he can feel inside. Its one of the few ways he feels he can truly connect to people, since it’s easier to write down the words instead of saying them. (Though he has done poetry readings from time to time.)

-Between portraits and landscapes, Helia prefers landscapes. And he’d really gotten into architecture drawings before he left the Academy.

-Because his parents were often busy when he was a kid, he found he had useful skills to ‘adult’ while at the Academy and on his own for the first time. (He can cook fairly well, at least, you know what you’re supposed to be eating and it tastes pretty good. But he’s no Chef Langdon.)

-He was great at keeping his room spotless and clean. His workspaces however? Not so much.

-Over half his wardrobe is stained with either paint or charcoal or clay.

-(Yes, he can do pottery. Just not very well. In fact, it usually looks pretty shit, but hey, he tried.)

-After seeing the news about what happened in Magix and how his uncle’s school was destroyed and the people he cared about nearly died, Helia decided to transfer. (Which took a lot of convincing with his dad and the Dean of the Academy and Saladin.)

-But once he was in, he was in. And when given the choice about his weapon, he went with one his mother loves to use, the laser-string gloves. Great for restraint and for quick weapon-recovery in battle without potentially causing further harm.

-Add in his ability to make himself stronger, and he can wield that glove with the confidence of a sword fighter.

-He quickly clicked with Timmy once he joined their squadron, despite the two having different views of technology.

-Helia was Riven’s roommate though, and while their personalities didn’t compete with each other, they didn’t completely get along either. (Riven reminded Helia of Hannah with his ‘let’s just face it’ ways and Riven felt Helia wasn’t much of a hero if all he did was restrain instead of fight.)

-Of course, as time went on, Helia and Riven do have respect for each other, and have many inside jokes that came from their time living together.

-Helia quickly found he was one of the ‘advisors’ of the group, with everyone coming to him for advice. He was flattered, sure, but dudes… Just because he managed to get what he got, doesn’t mean he knows how he did it.

-Aside from training with his gloves, he’s good using a whip and decent with a sword. Bows and arrows/anything needing aim isn’t his strong suit. He’s also not the best at giving reports on how things went on their missions, which is why that task gets delegated to Sky or Riven.

-He trained as a medic too, deciding that while he wouldn’t be the best in a fight, he can help with the aftermath. And his squad kind of needed a medic aside from Timmy and Brandon…

-Helia may not enjoy fighting, but he’s not above doing what’s necessary when the people he cares about are in danger. There have been plenty of times, not just when saving the Magical Dimension, that Helia has risked his life and limbs to protect his friends.

-One such incident was a survival trip to the Marshlands of Amanal. Brandon never would have made it home in one piece if Helia hadn’t thrown himself at the hippogriff. (And he somehow managed to befriend it afterward. No, he has no memory of how he did it.)

-Helia tends to be a stress-sketcher. Worried about a test? Doodles on his notes from class. Worried about an upcoming mission? Sketchbook in hand. Relationship issues? Sketchbook.

-Oh! He’s a great pilot too! Helia has a great sense of direction and has grown up around the ships, so he knows how to work them. (Now, if you want to know what makes them tick or how to put them together if they fall apart, ask someone else. Preferably Timmy or Riven.)

-Helia has a whole stash of teas. A collection, if you will. (Something that he blames Faragonda for, but hey, it’s not the worst habit ever.)

-After all the traveling he’s done thanks to Red Fountain, Helia sort of understands better why his mom and uncle loved their military days so much. Seeing new places, learning new things, enjoying new foods… It’s quite an existence. (If you can look passed all the fighting and wars and invasions…)

-Yes, Helia does yoga. He also enjoys dance. (And with friends like Layla, Musa, and Nabu, he never has to do it alone.)

-Some of his favorite people to sketch: Flora, for her grace and beauty and the way she seems to just breathe life into natural settings; Sky, for his posture and presence and ability to always appear in charge; Layla, for her strength and grace and how every body of water seems to be at her command; and finally, Timmy and Tecna, As a couple, those two just radiate this feeling of joy and it just… How can you not want to sketch it?!

-(Kiko is also a favorite sketch subject. The little rabbit just has so much personality!)

-This may come as a shock to people, but Helia enjoys horror movies. Preferably the psychological/thriller-based horror movies. It’s the way they capture human emotion and it’s just so poignant and interesting. He wants to learn how to convey such feelings in his work.

-Between his parents, you’d think Helia was closer to his father… In actuality, he’s closer to his mother.

-His mom enjoyed doing things and showing him things and just getting him to be more active and curious as a child.

-His father was more of a watcher. An observer-type. Always looking for something awe-inspiring for his next piece. (Something Helia and Harley bond over now. And laugh at, from time to time.)

-Helia enjoys swapping sketching ideas with Bloom and Stella, looking to see what they’re up to and how they can try and work off of each other.

-(And he has done some physical character sheets and layout ideas for Tecna’s video game idea to help her see her vision more clearly.)

-Helia doesn’t play a lot of video games. They’re just not his thing… But he does have a soft spot for the Sims series after Bloom introduced him to it, and he enjoys this maze creation game that a Solarian gaming company came up with for phones (level 200!!!).

-He swears more than people think he does. It’s almost comical how shocked people are when they meet this ‘sweet and soulful guy’ and then he drops a few ‘f’ bombs while working on his projects. (Not just ‘f’ bombs either… Dude gets creative with his curses. Even Riven’s impressed.)

-Helia didn’t go to Earth with the others, instead taking up a job offer on Callisto to help with remodeling his great uncle’s barracks. (And now, the castle itself… He’s so honored it’s his designs in the works.)

-However, he does visit from time to time. It makes him a little sad though, seeing Earth the way it is. All the pollution creating cars, the strange fashion, the way people seem to disregard each other. It’s so sad.

-When the ‘saving the Magical Dimension’ stuff stops, Helia’s hoping to join with his father’s art gallery and to build on his portfolio of projects. (He knows he already has a few jobs waiting for him, like Stella’s coronation portrait for when she becomes queen.)

-He just hopes his works inspire and touch people the way they do as he works on them.

[cinephilediary]

A Memory

by: Kila Gallo

Sitting on a soft minimalist chair with a backrest, sipping on an iced white mocha-caramel coffee with some tiramisu on the side of the table, tied my long soft ash-brown-balayage hair in a clean bun with some baby hair strands on the side. Instead of the country side music, I prefer to listen and notice the loud breeze outside, while people come and go as they receive their cup of coffee. I am just here, silently typing on my keyboard, specs on, looking at my laptop’s screen; doing some work related stuff. Its been five years now, and I couldn’t help but wonder if… if I could see you or even just have the opportunity to glance at you, here, again.

“I’m going to school now Mom, bye!” I kissed on her cheek then walked through my way out of the house, still biting a piece of bread. It is 7:00 in the morning and I have to hurry for my first class. Dad is now waiting for me inside the black sedan car together with my little brother to drive us to school. Oh! I haven’t introduced myself yet, my name is Shi Gutierrez, a typical grade nine student.

“Shi! Faster! Mrs. Data is almost here!” Hazel shouted at me when she’s on the second floor and I am still at the school grounds. By that time, I started running upstairs in order for me not to get late and receive a punishment. Our school is definitely strict in terms of time thus I really have to run. I catch my breath as I sit down on my chair, I gasp and sigh heavily knowing that there's still no teacher yet, and fortunately, after minutes, Mrs. Data, our English teacher, entered the room and announced something that would be the start of something. “Good morning class! Since this week is the start of the English Month Celebration, I am tasking you to execute a stage play of the novel, Romeo and Juliet” she smiled angelically. Everyone were shocked that only our Class president answered, “When is it ma���am?”

“In the coming month, I still have no idea for the final and exact date but be ready! Any questions?” the room filled with silence. 

“Okay class, I want you to prepare for it because this is going to be a competition! Anyway, we will not have our classes starting today. I want you to focus on the preparation for your stage play! I am expecting so much from you since you are the first section, okay? See you!”

After leaving, the room was filled with noise of excitements. Then, my group of friends started teasing me to be part of the stage play because they knew I had some experiences. Time flies so fast, I, and my girl group of friends are now about to go to the school canteen to buy our lunch. We are seven girls in total and our classmates often call us as “girl group” because we would always gather to stick together and talks too loud. In the group, I am the one whose not easy to read, sometimes I would go silent and there are days wherein I would start the noise. People would always described me as a “social butterfly” and I kind of agree to the thought of it because I kind of know everyone here in our school, down from the school helpers, school guards to the higher positions. When we went back to our room, holding our drinks, everyone is occupied with their own businesses. Then without any hesitations, our class president stood up in front of the class, calling everyone’s attention. He discussed the agenda of finding who are the people who will act to be the characters of the play. While I am listening, the girls still pushes me to join, it was all fun until he, Mr. Class President looked directly at my way.

“Oh Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?” Yes, they appointed me to act as Juliet in the coming English month stage play competition. I did not even had the opportunity to decline because no one wants to do it either. We are now at the school grounds, amid the scorching sun, rehearsing our lines in our coming play. I already have prepared my costumes, props and other needed stuff. Everyone is participating since this is a whole-section project, thus, those who are not assigned as an actor or actresses are tasked for the making of props, backdrops, costumes, music and other tasks. By the way, the man who will act as the Romeo in our section, is our class president.

Everyone is currently occupied with their own tasks that keeps them bustle. I am at the backstage, fully prepared, wearing my first attire for the first act, a long beautiful dress, my hair is curled tied in a high bun. This is the day we have long prepared for.

“My only love sprung from my only hate. Too early seen unknown, and known too late!”

 After our section’s performance, our director told us to stay and watch the presentation of other sections. I was definitely excited to watch, to see the other perspectives of the play but when the third section finished, I asked my girl group to accompany me to the restroom to change because I don’t feel comfortable with my costume anymore. But, when we are approaching the door to go inside the school hallways, where the nearest restroom is located, my friends approached this boy, lone with his bag and used-props. “He’s the Romeo of the last stage play” I mumbled on myself. I know no one even heard me because when I looked at him again, he is now surrounded by the girls. They are asking him something, and when I went nearer, he looks more serious, still in his Romeo-outfit, fixing his necktie, smoothly removing his vest and folding some props made of paper to fit on his small paper bag. Then my friend, Rose started teasing him and I was in awe because I don’t know him, yet these girls act like they knew him. “Can I have that sword?”, “The flower is nice, give it to me!” they are forcing him to give them his things and I was just there watching him really give the things the girls asked to. Then, Rose looked at me, and that’s the signal that it is now my turn to ask him, “I want your necklace!” without any hesitations, I proudly told him. I don’t even know what to get and ask from him because I’m not interested with his props and the only thing I saw that is something useful, is the necklace suspended on his neck; a silver one with a small rectangular pendant looking good with his outfit. Then, he paused for a while, looking at me intently. I thought he’s going to give it to me, just like how easy it is for him to give his other belongings to the girls. But, he continued fixing his things and didn’t bother to mind me. After the deafening silence, finally, the girls forbid their goodbyes to that Romeo-boy, I don’t know what to feel, I am not ashamed of what have happened, I admit that it is weird at some point because we don’t know each other. All I really want to do is to change my clothes! “Its okay Shi, don’t be sad” Rose said when we went inside the restroom. What? “Yes Shi, maybe he was tired since he played the character of Romeo. Actually, he was really good! He’s better with our section’s Romeo!” Ann declared, then they all laughed.

Since every section made an amazing presentation during the English month stage play competition, Mrs. Data promised us to be rewarded with good and fair grades. Its been three weeks since that event happened, and now while everyone thought that it will be rest days next week, our class president together with the vice president, entered the room with some news to disseminate. “Okay listen! Next Friday there will be a Seminar Workshop in Filipino in line with the celebration of Filipino Month. Everyone must attend because this is going to be our attendance.”

“A celebration for the Filipino Month” Rose red the tarpaulin outside our school gate. It is 8:00 in the morning and we are currently waiting in line to enter the audio visual room where the event will take place. When we reached the door, our class president gave each one of us a name tag with a lanyard. He said that we are supposed to wear it the whole day. Since we are the first section, we had the opportunity to sit in front. The event started and the flow of the program went light, there are guest speakers who used to be theatre actors and now teaches Filipino subject and acting. Since it is a workshop, other guest speakers call some representative from each sections to participate. Then, lunch time came. We are about to go to the school canteen when he, our class president called me. He gave me a bottle of watermelon shake and a biscuit. “Why?” I asked him. He just stood there, smiling, wearing his eye glasses, unable to talk.

And finally, the event ended, it lasted for many hours! Its time for the photo opportunity with the guest speakers. We are the first one to take photos with them and can go home after. The section two is now ready for the photo opportunity thus I went back on my seat and started fixing my stuff, when I am ready to go, my friends ask me to wait for them. So, I sat on the arm desk of the chair, feet still on the ground, to prevent losing control and balance. I was watching the other students taking pictures with the guests until a pair of arms wrapped around my neck blocking my view, I stiffened from my position and unable to move. He move backwards after putting a necklace on me, then that's when I knew, the Romeo boy! I wasn’t able to speak, looking intently at him and he smiled. “Sorry its late”, What? What’s late? Why are you just talking to yourself be mad at him! He invaded your personal space! “And sorry for almost touching you, but I didn’t” he said in his low voice. What now? Do you hear me? “Honestly, I cant give you this” he holds his silver necklace suspended on his neck just like when I first saw him “my father gave it to me, so I bought a new one for you. Hope you like it.” Oh. Whats happening? Why I couldn’t utter any words right now. Then he smiled and turn his back on me. Leaving me in awe, unable to move nor speak. What was that? My heart beats so fast. Its a foreign feeling, something I only feel towards him.

“Hot Americano for Rald!” the counter called for the customer. Then I was stiffened from my seat. I looked down, forcefully closing my eyes, “Don’t look!” I mumbled on myself. But the heart made the final judgment, I looked at the counter, meters away from me. No one is taking the coffee. I glanced on the other direction, there, I saw him, wearing a white fitted polo that compliments his masculinity, paired with a black trousers and a pair of black leather shoes. A luster from his necklace caught my attention, it is the same necklace before. A smooth swift of the chair then he stand proudly and walked towards his way to the counter, eyes on his silver watch, looks like he need to hurry. The romantic background music from the cafe makes me lose my track, my heart keeps beating so fast, with one hand, he gently holds his cup of coffee, with no emotion on his eyes, then, he suddenly turned his gaze directly at me. I stiffened from my position, can not able to look away. Those brown eyes I used to gladly stare at, are the same pair of eyes I’ve long forgotten. He looked away. Turned his back at me and went out of the cafe. I can now barely see him. I thought he’s not going to be here today, just like the past years. Now that he glanced at me, I can tell, that he don’t recognized me. Do people really can forget someone they’ve spent years with? Do they really forget everything through the years? Maybe people really forget things and people they chose to forget. But, I hope its a different matter in my case. According to his doctor, there are high chances of obsolete lose remembrance on his case, after the heart operation. Does the heart really forgets?

Maybe,

I should come here again, 

more often.

[iffeelscouldkill]

say what we wanna do, make it all come true (chapter 1)

A/N: It is! My fic for the Fiction Podcast Big Bang @podcastbigbang! I am a bit terrified to be posting this after working on it for so long! Also this is in the running for the Longest TSCOSI Fic I’ve Written So Far (not sure if it’s the longest because I don’t remember where my wordcount is up to for Adjusting, but like... it’s long, guys). This is Chapter 1 of 3, and the remaining chapters will be posted weekly!

You can read this on AO3 where the formatting is honestly much better, but here it is on Tumblr anyway. Also, please check out the FANTASTIC artwork made for this fic by the wonderful @bluereadingdolphin and @demonic-kitkats, who are my artists for this fic and their artwork is so good, you guys, I’m in love and they did such a phenomenal job with the honestly pretty vague info they got from me 😂 

bluereadingdolphin’s piece

demonic-kitkat’s piece (from Chapter 2!)

Please give them all the love!

Content warnings: There is a relatively brief physical altercation described in this chapter, but it isn’t graphic or bloody.

Also, I play a little fast and loose with POV in this; the first section is told from Sana’s perspective, the rest from Arkady’s.

---

“Hello and welcome back to Radio Indie, Folk and Techno, also known as RIFT, where we play all the bands that matter outside of the mainstream! I’m Piper Tanaka, and I’m your co-host for this programme! I’m joined as usual by the lovely Kestrel Colvin, with Reina Sakamachi in the booth! Now – where were we?”

“You were introducing our guests for this next section,” Kestrel replied in a slightly despairing tone.

“Right! Indie fans, I am joined today by two members of the fabulous up-and-coming indie band Rumor! With me in the studio are frontwoman and lead guitarist Sana Tripathi—”

“Hey! It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“—and bad girl bassist Arkady Patel.”

“Bad girl?” Arkady repeated, sounding halfway between taken aback and annoyed. Kestrel just shook her head.

“Ignore her. She’s got a thing for a certain… aesthetic.”

Next to Arkady, Sana was doing an incredibly poor job of hiding her laughter. “It’s the combat boots,” she whispered to Arkady.

“These are practical,” Arkady told her in a tone that suggested they’d had this conversation a few times. Sana said nothing, but straightened back up with a smirk.

“Sana — or should I call you ‘Captain’?” Piper began playfully. Sana grimaced.

“In hindsight, it was a poor choice to share that nickname in an interview.”

“You know, I think it suits you,” said Piper. “There’s something commanding about your aura. Sana, you and the band — which I understand you and Arkady originally started as a duo a few years ago—”

“That’s right,” Sana confirmed.

“You’ve always had a dedicated and loyal following, even from your early days — and we’re proud to have been playing your music here on this station for almost as long — but I think it’s fair to say the past few months have seen that rocket to a whole new level,” Piper said. “You got signed to a record label belonging to the mysterious but notoriously discerning Red Gregor, are working on your second album, and played a major gig at the CUI stadium just a few weeks ago. And we are definitely going to talk later about what went down at that gig, which is already the stuff of online legend — but first I want to backtrack a little, because I think the moment that everything started happening for you was when you added a new member to your band. In the middle of a gig, if the rumours are true. Can you tell us how that happened?”

Sana and Arkady exchanged a sidelong glance, and Arkady gave Sana a tiny nod. Sana took a deep breath, and began to tell the story.

---

“Jeeter, for the last time, put the keytar away,” Arkady said irritably as she and Sana entered the draughty, abandoned warehouse that the band was using as their current rehearsal space. The acoustics were pretty weird, probably due to all the broken windows, but it was otherwise hard to beat a free place to rehearse — especially a free place with no asshole neighbours who would yell at them to turn it down and threaten to call the cops.

Admittedly, it was in kind of a rough area, but Arkady had only needed to knock someone unconscious with her bass once.

In retaliation, Brian played another bright riff on his beloved instrument, accompanied by some jazzy keyboard chords from Krejjh. The two had been jamming together before Arkady and Sana arrived. “Dude, c’mon, can’t you hear how good this sounds?” Brian wheedled. “How many other indie bands do you know that have a keytar?”

“None. For good reason,” Arkady said, unzipping her case and slinging her bass around her neck. Sana, unpacking the sound equipment, smiled in fond amusement at their well-worn argument.

“It would give us such a great edge! Totally unique. And Krejjh and I have so many ideas that would sound great with both instruments—”

“Okay, Jeeter,” Arkady interrupted him, twiddling one of her tuning pegs. “You can play the keytar. Just as soon as you find us someone else who can play the drums.” She stooped to plug her bass into the portable amplifier that Sana had just unpacked. “Or are you planning to grow an extra pair of hands so you can play both at once?”

“Oooh! No, I should have an extra pair of hands!” Krejjh immediately (and predictably) enthused. “Then I’d sound four times as awesome! Four hands, all rockin’ out!”

“I think you mean ‘twice as awesome’,” Sana told them, as Brian reluctantly put away his keytar and picked up his neglected drumsticks.

“With me, twice the hands equals four times the awesome,” Krejjh replied with irrefutable logic. Brian laughed and held up a hand.

“Dude, high five.”

Sana waited for the two of them to finish their congratulatory high-five before she called the band to order. “Okay, guys — remember that we’re only a few days out from our gig at the IGR Corp function, so we need to have our crowd-pleasers up to standard.”

Arkady immediately wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, corporates. Why are we taking money from them again?”

“Because we need to pay for rent and food,” Sana said, bluntly. “And they’re giving us a lot for it. I know none of us love playing corporate gigs—”

“Understatement.”

“—but we are living a hand to mouth existence at this point, and if I can guarantee our survival as a band by relieving some corporates of their excess funds, then I’m going to do just that,” Sana continued. She waited a beat, and then added, “Also, we’re gonna let them get really drunk and then start playing our best anti-capitalist anthems, and see how long it takes for them to notice.”

Arkady broke into a shit-eating grin. “That’s more like it.” Krejjh cheered, and Brian did a little run-down on his drumkit, hitting each of the drums in turn.

“All right, let’s start with ‘Fear for the Storm’? One, two, three, four…” Sana started strumming the intro on her guitar, joined after a few beats by Krejjh’s melody on the keyboard.

“So long, can’t dodge the dawn, red light shines on and on and on and on and on…”

---

Arkady had been on edge ever since the band set foot in the agonisingly hipster office complex — excuse me, ‘headquarters’ — belonging to IGR Corp.

It wasn’t just the fact that these guys were extremely corporate corporates, or that the whole place radiated an almost aggressively minimalist aesthetic, or that the walls were covered in bullshit, chipper slogans that were all fancy ways of saying, ‘Work should be your existence – if isn’t, you’re dead to us’ — although those things sure as hell didn’t help, reminding her of the absolute worst parts of every soul-sucking corporate job she’d worked before Sana mercifully re-entered her life and suggested they form a band.

No, there was just this weird vibe, like everyone was super on edge and trying to hide it — the higher-ups were stone-faced, muttering into earpieces or barking orders at underlings, who scurried, terrified, to carry out their wishes. And everyone else, from the tech types in plain white T-shirts and jeans to the smartly-dressed sales reps in suits, looked like they were there on pain of death. Wasn’t this supposed to be a party?

The atmosphere didn’t go unnoticed by the other band members. “Kind of a weird feel to this place,” Jeeter remarked as he unpacked his drumkit on the raised platform at the front of the ‘rec center’ where they would be performing. Normally, setting up was a noisy, clumsy affair, with the band elbowing each other, tripping over wires, and getting in each other’s way in the tiny space they were afforded in bars and nightclubs. Here, the platform that would be their makeshift stage was huge and extremely visible — but everyone was completely ignoring them. There was also very little background noise for a room packed with people, and the band found themselves speaking in hushed murmurs, almost tiptoeing around. “You’d think there would be a bit more… chatter?”

“Maybe the alcohol just isn’t flowing yet,” Sana speculated, but she sounded uneasy as she looked out over the tense crowd. Even Krejjh, with their signature hot pink, heart-shaped sunglasses perched on top of their dyed-lavender hair, dressed in a clashing, flamboyant jumble of clothes and accessories, seemed subdued.

Arkady plugged in her bass with a burst of static, and deliberately played a loud riff. Brian startled and dropped his drumstick, but not a single member of the sea of blandly-dressed IGR Corp employees flinched.

Weird.

The sound equipment was all set up, sound check performed and instruments tuned by half past, but the set wasn’t due to start until o’clock. Normally, Arkady would be making a beeline for the bar, but she didn’t really feel like rubbing shoulders with any of these weird drones. She found herself reflexively checking the exits, mentally charting their fastest route out of there in case something really fucked up started going down. Sana half-jokingly called it paranoia; Arkady called it long, hard experience.

It was on one of her scans of the room that she noticed the woman with the septum piercing. Arkady chalked it up to professional interest — as a kid, she’d picked up some extra money working as an assistant in a tattoo and piercing shop, The Landing. She’d first met Sana there when the other woman came in on several occasions to have work done on an amazingly intricate floral sleeve tattoo — her own design. Later, Sana had led a campaign to save The Landing from being shut down over a bunch of bullshit health code violations so that the billionaire Cresswin family — who owned the property — could sell it off to a shitty corporation.

The campaign hadn’t worked, and there was now a high rise office block where Arkady’s home from home had once stood. But Arkady had never forgotten Sana.

Anyway, it was definitely the woman’s piercing and not anything else about her appearance that caught Arkady’s attention first. But then she noticed that there was something off about her body language and the way she was moving — something that Arkady recognised. She wasn’t scurrying about in a panic or affecting bored disinterest; her eyes were flickering around the room, carefully monitoring the comings and goings of the other employees while seeming not to do so. There were little devices studded around the room that Arkady had clocked as security cameras the moment they entered (it was the kind of thing she made a habit of noticing), and she saw the woman glancing up at them.

She was dressed like an employee – white blouse, dark rinse blue jeans – so why was she acting like she was casing the joint? Of course, Arkady reasoned, the outfit could easily have been chosen to blend in. It didn’t necessarily mean she worked there.

“Seen something interesting, ‘Kady?” Sana asked playfully. Arkady didn’t startle, but it was a near thing; she’d been so focused on watching this woman.

Unfortunately, Sana saw where she’d been looking. “You know, we’ve still got close to half an hour before we start our first set,” she said. “You can go and mingle.”

“I’m not here to socialise,” Arkady said witheringly. “Least of all with corporate drones.” She tore her eyes away from the woman to meet Sana’s amused look.

“I’m just saying, you seemed pretty absorbed there…” Sana said, and Arkady rolled her eyes, determined not to respond to her best friend’s teasing. She glanced back at the spot where the woman had been standing and found it empty.

A second later, Arkady had found her again, weaving through the crowd with her head ducked down. She was taking an odd route across the room that Arkady realised must have been calculated to avoid the security cameras. Occasionally she disappeared, behind people or objects (like a huge, obviously fake ficus plant), but it wasn’t hard for Arkady to spot her again. Clearly there was some kind of purpose to what she was doing, but the woman wasn’t a professional.

There was an elevator against the far wall, and as Arkady watched, the doors opened and a small group of people in suits – latecomers to the party – walked out of it. The woman mingled with them briefly, and then disappeared inside the elevator. The doors closed.

Well, that had been a way to kill five minutes, but now Arkady was stuck with nothing to do again. Krejjh and Jeeter had pulled out a pack of cards, and were playing one of their weird games on top of Krejjh’s keyboard. Arkady turned to Sana, about to make another comment about how much this place creeped her out, when she caught sight of the other person moving across the room.

Judging by the expensive suit, they were a higher-up, and were taking none of the precautions the woman had when making their way across the room, which suggested that they were confident about being allowed to do whatever it was they were doing. And to Arkady, it looked an awful lot like they were following the woman she’d seen. Based on the way the suit jacket fell, she’d also bet even money that they were armed.

Sure enough, the suit called the elevator, and disappeared into it a second later. Arkady swore under her breath.

It was none of her goddamn business whether a person she didn’t even know might be in danger, Arkady told herself. She was here to play music, not to get in the middle of whatever might be going down at this godawful corporation. Which again, was none of her business anyway.

Her resolve lasted all of ten seconds.

“I’m going to get a drink,” she told Sana, and placed her bass onto its stand.

“Oooh! Bring me a cocktail – no, a mocktail!” Krejjh said. Sana just looked at her quizzically.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Arkady nodded briefly. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and jumped down off the platform.

She wasn’t under any illusions that Sana wouldn’t notice where she was going, and just hoped that her best friend would trust her to be back in time for the set. She slipped through the crowd, following the same path that the woman had taken to avoid the watchful eyes of the security cameras.

This worked right up until she entered the elevator, where sure enough, a security camera was embedded into the top corner. How had this woman planned to avoid getting caught?

Arkady pulled out her smartphone, and began to quickly and expertly worm her way into the closed network that IGR Corp was using for its security systems. After just a few moments, she’d managed to identify the IP address that the lift camera was using, and wow, whoever had set up this system was either incredibly lazy or was trying to lay out a welcome mat for hackers. They hadn’t bothered to change the default access password.

Arkady wound back the last few minutes of recorded video, and watched as the woman with the septum piercing pressed the button for the top floor. Arkady did the same, and as the elevator moved upwards, she introduced a glitch that would cause the security camera to loop footage of an empty elevator instead of showing who was actually inside. Then she worked to edit out the archive footage of the woman riding up in the elevator, and of herself getting in.

If it turned out that there was nothing weird going on here after all, well, she’d had some fun exploiting the corporates’ shitty security system.

But Arkady was pretty sure there was something weird going on.

The elevator came to a silent stop, and Arkady silently thanked the deities she didn’t really believe in for the fact that this place was too hipster to have an elevator that made a noise when it arrived at the right floor. The doors slid open, and Arkady immediately spotted another security camera on exiting the elevator. God, these corporates were paranoid. But apparently not paranoid enough to pay their security person to do their job properly.

Annoyingly, the security cameras for this floor seemed to be on a separate network, and Arkady started another hack as she crept down the corridor, straining her ears for the sounds of a confrontation. Further down, she saw an office door swinging open, as if someone had gone through it in a hurry. Arkady approached it, being careful to stay out of sight of the doorway. Closer to, she could hear a voice coming from inside – the suit’s, if she had to guess.

“…sure CEO Golding-Frederick will be very interested to hear just what you’re doing in her office, Ms. Liu.”

“Seiders, I can explain,” the woman – Liu – replied, her voice high with tension. “Project ADVANCE – it’s not what we’ve been told. The company is using it to-”

“What the company may or may not be doing with Project ADVANCE is not your concern,” Seiders said smoothly, over her, “and is a long way above your pay grade. But I’d be very interested to learn where you got your information from.”

“Do you know what’s going on at this company?” Liu demanded, outraged. “And that’s – you have no problems with what they’re doing?”

The closed network for the top floor of the building was much less of a pushover than the elevator, and Arkady kept half of her attention on the conversation inside the room as she worked to find a flaw in the system. Finally, she made it in, and began trying different password combinations for the camera in the hallway.

“It’s not my job to ask questions, Ms. Liu,” Seiders had been saying. “Neither is it yours. And if you value your job – not to mention the safety and security of your loved ones – you’ll step away from that computer, and go back downstairs to the party.”

“Are you threatening me? Are you threatening my family?” Liu demanded. “No, I’m not going to stay silent about this. Someone has to take a stand against what this company is doing. And if anything happens to me, that’ll only raise more questions.”

“We’re very good at making those questions go away,” said Seiders, and Arkady heard Liu suck in a breath. She moved so that she could see inside the room and shit, that was a gun. Arkady rapidly began calculating her angle of attack. “Didn’t you ever wonder what happened to Connors from Engineering?”

“That’s not – you can’t just make a person disappear,” Liu said, desperately. “I – I have insurance! Documents that I’ve sent to a friend of mine. If I don’t check in with them in two hours, they’re going to send them to a journalist contact, and it’ll be all over the press in the morning.”

Arkady could hear the lie in her voice so clearly, and she knew Seiders could, too. “If you had enough evidence to be worth a damn, you wouldn’t have broken into this office,” they replied. “I’m going to ask you one last time. Step away from the-”

Arkady slammed into the room, deliberately making as much noise as she could to draw Seiders’ attention. She took two, three steps towards them and grabbed their gun hand, forcing it down and towards the floor. She managed to hook one arm around their throat, pulling back and applying pressure. Seiders choked, struggling and jerking against Arkady’s grip. With the hand that was holding their gun hand, Arkady twisted and pulled their fingers open, causing the weapon to drop to the floor.

“Liu, grab the gun!” Arkady ordered. She saw the other woman yank something out of the computer that looked like a flash drive, stowing it inside her blouse. She dove for the gun at the same time that Seiders managed to thrust an elbow back, driving it into Arkady’s midsection.

All the air left Arkady’s lungs and as she struggled to draw a breath in, Seiders took advantage of her loosened grip to twist free. They grappled with Liu for the gun, but Liu succeeded in kicking it away, where it spun underneath a nearby cabinet. Then Arkady was on Seiders again, jumping onto their back and choking them.

She heard the sound of running footsteps, and someone else burst into the room. Arkady didn’t get a chance to see who it was before Seiders slammed their head back, knocking into Arkady’s and making bright white lights explode across her vision. She dropped to the floor and staggered, trying to clear her head.

She heard an oof and a thud, and blinked rapidly, sure that she would open her eyes to see Seiders bearing down on Liu – or worse, standing over her unconscious body.

Instead, she was greeted with the sight of Seiders crumpling like a sack of potatoes as Sana flexed her fist, having delivered a powerful uppercut that knocked them out cold.

Silence reigned for a few seconds, broken only by Liu’s sharp, panicked breaths. Rubbing her head, Arkady said, “Hey, Sana.”

“The next time you decide to go off on a rescue mission,” Sana said, wryly, “you could at least tell me where you’re going.” She frowned as she took in Arkady’s dishevelled state. “Is your head all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Arkady. She was more concerned with Liu, who looked like she might be on the verge of a panic attack. “Hey, uh, it’s okay. We took care of them.”

“Who-” Liu managed, taking deep breaths in and out, clearly trying to steady her breathing. “Who are you?”

Sana smiled at her, warm and reassuring. “My name is Sana Tripathi, and this is Arkady Patel. We’re-”

There was a noise that sounded not unlike a herd of elephants storming down the corridor, and Arkady closed her eyes. She had a bad feeling she knew what was about to happen. Sure enough, in the next second Krejjh and Jeeter clattered through the door in all their clashing multicoloured glory: Jeeter in his signature loud paid shirt and those stupid khakis, and Krejjh with their… everything. Most of the clattering was coming from Krejjh’s many bangles.

“Cap’n Tripathi!” Krejjh said. “We’re here to assist you with – oh my god, are they dead?” They stared at the unconscious form of Seiders on the floor.

“They’re not dead, they’re just unconscious,” Arkady said, irritated. “Did you two really take off without anyone to watch the equipment?”

Sana turned back to Liu like nothing had happened. “We’re the band,” she finished succinctly. “I’m the guitarist and lead singer, Arkady here plays the bass, and Krejjh and Brian are our keyboardist and drummer.” She indicated each of them in turn. Jeeter waved, and Krejjh saluted for some reason. “And who are you?”

Liu blinked at her. “You… you just saved my life, and you don’t even know who I am?” she said. “Why would you do that?”

“For one thing, because you’d probably be dead if we hadn’t,” Arkady said. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.” She pulled out the phone to finish the hack on the security cameras that she’d started before she entered the room.

“I – no, I know that. I’m not ungrateful,” Liu said, sounding a little stung. “I’m just a little… in shock. My name is Violet Liu,” she added to Sana. “I, uh, work in IGR Corp’s neuroresearch division.”

“Good to meet you, Violet Liu,” Sana said, sounding like they were old friends catching up at the bar instead of total strangers talking to each other over an unconscious body. “’Kady, are you erasing the security footage?”

Arkady nodded.

“Good; Brian and I will carry our friend here,” Sana indicated Seiders with her foot, “into the hallway. I think I noticed a closet there we can hide them in.”

“Uh… are you guys really the band?” Liu asked, as Sana and Jeeter – who was much stronger than he looked – bent down to pick up Seiders. “You seem very…” She struggled to find the right words. “…good at this.”

“We have some unorthodox skillsets,” Sana said, beaming and dimpling at her. “We don’t normally make a habit of rescuing people in the middle of a gig, but Arkady has a soft spot for damsels in distress.”

Arkady fumbled her phone, and nearly dropped it. “Sana,” she hissed, mortified. Sana, who was already partway out of the door, winked and disappeared into the hallway.

After a moment, Arkady realised that she and Liu were the only ones in the room, Krejjh evidently having decided to go along and supervise, or something. She refocused her attention on the hack she was carrying out; she’d managed to hack the hallway security camera, and was erasing the footage from that, but she still needed to do the one in the office.

“Uh…” Liu awkwardly broke the silence. “Is there anything that you need me to…”

“Is anyone likely to be monitoring the security cameras in real-time?” Arkady asked her. The question came out sounding a little harsher than she’d intended, but it was hard to be diplomatic when she was focused on trying to break into a security system. Also, it was a little annoying that Liu apparently hadn’t thought about security cameras beyond the ones on the ground floor.

“N-no, the system is all automated,” Liu replied. Well, that was something, at least. “I, uh, I do have a virus that I was planning to use on the security system that would corrupt the footage. I just needed to find an access point.”

Fine, so there had been a plan of sorts. “This is quicker,” Arkady told her. “And the way I’m doing it, it won’t be so obvious that someone has tampered with the footage.”

“Thank you for that,” Liu said, quietly. “And thank you for – I mean, you don’t even know me, but you came up here to help me. Why?”

Arkady shrugged, keeping her shoulders hunched and avoiding Liu’s gaze. “You looked like you were in trouble,” she said shortly. And that was the office camera done. Arkady resisted the urge to change the password to something rude, and withdrew from the network. “And I don’t like corporations. What were you trying to do, blow the whistle on them or something?”

“Um, I-”

Before she could explain, Sana poked her head back into the room. “Arkady, are you done? Because I don’t think we should be hanging around up here.”

“I’m done,” Arkady said with a nod, pocketing her phone. The two of them joined Sana, Krejjh and Jeeter in the hallway.

“We need a plan to get Violet back downstairs and out of the building without her being seen,” Sana said quickly. “’Kady, do you think you two can make it out in fifteen minutes?”

Arkady huffed. “I can hack the security cams, but I can’t actually make us invisible,” she pointed out. “People are gonna notice us. If we waited until you guys started the set, then we might have a better chance, while everyone’s attention is on the band.”

“Listen – it’s not that I don’t really appreciate the help,” Liu cut in. Her face was set, like she was preparing to go to the gallows. “But none of this needs to be your problem. It’s my mess, and I can get myself out of it. You guys should go and start your set.”

“Oh, pshaw!” said Krejjh. “We’re not just gonna leave you to the bears!”

Jeeter smiled. “To the wolves,” he corrected Krejjh.

“Are y’sure? Because bears can be pretty terrifying.”

“We’re not about to abandon you now,” Sana said to Liu, gently. “Between the five of us, I’m sure we can figure out a pretty good plan.”

“Can’t we just pretend to be loading something into the truck?” Jeeter suggested. “And Violet can help us? We could give her a band jacket – make her look like she’s with us-”

“It’s too bad you don’t play!” Krejjh said to Violet. “We could add you into the set. The ultimate entourage!”

“Uh…” Violet said (at the same time as Arkady said, “Camouflage.”) “I mean, I do play something? But you guys already have a drummer.”

“Wait, you’re a drummer?” Jeeter said delightedly, as Krejjh straightened up so fast that Arkady thought they’d pull a muscle. Even Sana looked interested. “Are you good?”

“Have you ever played with a band before?” added Sana.

Liu smiled and shrugged awkwardly. “Well, drums aren’t really a solo instrument, so yeah. I used to jam with some friends in high school, and played some underground rock concerts in college. I was never really with a band – we just sort of used to form collectives based on who was around and wanted to play. It was fun, though.”

She’d avoided answering the question about how good she was, Arkady noticed, which probably meant she was good and was being modest about it. Goddamn it.

“So if, hypothetically speaking,” Sana said, “you joined a set without having rehearsed any of the music beforehand, would you be able to figure out a drum part?”

“Okay, hold on,” said Arkady, before Violet could respond. “Don’t you think IGR Corp is going to notice that one of their employees has just… joined the band?”

“We’ll swear up and down that it isn’t her,” Jeeter said. “And even if someone figures it out, what are they gonna do about it in front of everyone?”

“But wait, what about you?” Liu asked Jeeter. “Wouldn’t I be putting you out of a role in the band?”

“Nah,” Jeeter said happily. “I brought my keytar!”

“Oh my god,” Arkady groaned. She could tell when she was fighting a losing battle, but it didn’t stop her from making one last, token protest. “This is going to sound really goddamn weird.”

Sana grinned at her. “Well, you wanted to annoy some corporates,” she pointed out. “What better way to do it?”

---

The problem was, the new line-up didn’t sound weird at all.

It sounded good.

Liu, hastily disguised with an old band jacket and a spare pare of Krejjh’s sunglasses, fitted in with their set like she’d been rehearsing with them for weeks – months even. They did a quick sound check, Jeeter looking far too delighted as he amped up his keytar. Sana gave her usual cheerful introduction into the microphone, introducing the band as Renegade, the name they adopted for corporate gigs (Arkady was even more glad of it now, since it would make them harder to track down later). After a lukewarm reception from the assembled employees (none of whom seemed to notice, or care, that the band had grown an extra member), they launched into their first number, a reimagined cover of ‘What Shall We Do with the Drunken Sailor’.

It started off with Sana singing alone, before Krejjh joined in, their voices singing in close harmony, and then Arkady and finally Jeeter, the harmonies becoming increasingly layered as they went. The addition of the keytar made the song sound futuristic, almost the kind of thing you could imagine crews of space explorers singing together as they made their way into the unknown.

Liu picked up the beat easily, and as the song unfolded Arkady suddenly realised she could hear a fifth strand to the harmony, weaving in and out of the other voices, soft but distinctive: Liu was singing.

They moved on from the conventional crowd-pleasing openers to a more eclectic mix of songs, including some punk and anarchist numbers. Each time, Arkady was sure that the choice was going to throw Liu off, but she adapted smoothly to each one, altering her style to fit the vibe of the song. In one of the louder, heavier songs she even threw in an impromptu drum solo that had Krejjh whooping at the keyboard and Sana laughing as she riffed on her guitar.

Sana threw Arkady a look as the song ended, and there was a light in her eyes that Arkady knew far, far too well. It was the same light that Arkady had seen when Sana tracked her down at her latest deadbeat job and persuaded her to quit and start playing music with her; the same light that she’d had when they met Brian and Krejjh a year later and Sana had decided to turn their duo into a band.

Sana wanted Liu to join Rumor. And Arkady couldn’t even think of a good argument against it, apart from the fact that they barely knew anything about the woman other than that she could play the drums. And that she was a corporate, which Arkady thought was important not to lose sight of, even if Liu wasn’t on the greatest terms with her employer any more.

Speaking of which. Arkady was on high alert throughout the whole set, constantly scanning the crowd for signs of trouble, anyone who might be looking too closely at Liu or showed signs of moving towards the elevator. As they’d been setting up, Liu had told them that Seiders was middle management: someone who outranked her, but not someone who held a position of particular influence within the company or had the ear of the CEO. Someone who had ambitions above their station. It didn’t mean no-one would notice them missing, of course; but it meant that they might be someone who, for instance, would go after a rogue employee without notifying their superior, hoping to reap all of the credit.

The band moved into their final number, ‘Landers Never Stand Down’ – one of Sana and Arkady’s early compositions, whose lyrics Sana had written as a tribute to The Landing, and her and Arkady’s shared history. Normally, Arkady would object to wasting it on a corporate audience, but tonight, it felt like the right kind of ‘fuck you’.

“Landers never stand down,

Landers never bow,

Landers never stand down,

We don’t know how…”

They wound up the song in their usual fashion, repeating the chorus and getting fiercer and more defiant with each repetition, before ending in a final blaze of guitar chords.

“Thank you, everyone, you’ve been a wonder to perform for!” Sana said into the microphone as the chords faded away. She said the same thing at the end of every gig, but it had never felt more like a colossal understatement. “We’ve been Renegade, and we hope you have a great night!”

There was a small scattering of applause. Sana beamed out into the audience again, and then turned away from the microphone, sliding the power to ‘off’. “Well, that was-”

“Attention, all IGR Corp employees,” came a voice over the loudspeaker system. Sana froze, and Liu, who’d been leaning over to say something to Krejjh, paled visibly. “Please stay where you are. We will be carrying out a routine attendance check. Please do not exit the building.”

“Attendance check?” Arkady repeated.

“It’s a standard employee procedure,” Liu explained. “To make sure everyone’s… accounted for at corporate functions. Supposedly they’re optional, but it looks really bad if you’re not there and you don’t have a reason.”

“Do we think there’s a chance this is linked to…” Sana gestured towards the elevator. Liu shrugged helplessly.

“It could be, but even if it’s not, they’re gonna discover that Seiders is missing pretty quickly. And that I’m… unaccounted for.”

“Don’t worry,” said Jeeter, reassuringly. “We’ll figure out a way to get you out before that happens.”

“Dashing escapes are our speciality!” Krejjh contributed. This was true; the band hadn’t always played at the most above-the-board venues, and there’d been more than a few times they’d needed to get the hell out of Dodge before things got ugly. Well, uglier.

Sana nodded. “For now, just keep packing down, like nothing’s wrong,” she said.

As Krejjh packed down their keyboard and Jeeter helped Liu to disassemble the drumkit, Arkady said to Sana, “I’ll go with Liu, and we can sneak out a back entrance-”

Sana shook her head. “It’ll be more suspicious if we’re not seen leaving as a group.”

“We’ll just say we’re going to the bathroom,” Arkady said. “We’re allowed to do that, aren’t we?”

Sana started to reply, but then stopped, squinting at something on the other side of the room. Arkady tried to follow her gaze, but couldn’t see what she was looking at. “What is it?”

“I thought I saw…” Sana shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s try the front way first, and if they won’t let us leave, we’ll get creative.”

Unsurprisingly, when they carried the first load of equipment over to the rec room entrance, two stoic-looking IGR employees blocked their path, bouncer-style. Arkady eyed one of them, pretty sure she could take her in a one-to-one fight.

“Sorry, we can’t let you leave while an attendance check is ongoing,” said the employee, with a bland detachment. “Company policy.”

“It should only take about an hour,” the other added. “You can enjoy the free refreshments while you wait.”

An hour? Even if they hadn’t had a very pressing reason to get the hell out of there, Arkady would have been looking for the nearest fire escape to break out of. They were just supposed to cool their heels at IGR headquarters for an hour?

“Can we not at least load our equipment into the van in the meantime?” Sana asked reasonably. “This is a very heavy amplifier…” She made a show of struggling with the amp she’d been lifting with ease a few seconds ago, and Arkady suppressed a snort.

One of the corporates had opened their mouth, looking like they were about to object, when a friendly voice spoke from behind them. “Is there a problem here?”

They all turned to look at the person who’d spoken, and Arkady carefully masked her surprise: the tall, dark-skinned man dressed in an expensive-looking suit jacket, T-shirt and jeans combination was none other than Red Gregor, a close friend of Campbell’s. They’d met him once or twice, but what was he doing here?

“Who are you?” asked Corporate One, audibly unimpressed.

“Theodore Gregor; I’m the band’s executive producer,” Gregor introduced himself smoothly, handing Corporate Two a business card. Their eyes widened at whatever was written on it. “My clients have another engagement to get to tonight, so you can understand why it’s very important they be allowed to leave promptly. Additionally, their contract stipulates that they’re only obliged to perform for your company until-” he made a show of checking a gold watch, “-nine-thirty P.M., after which time we’ll need to bill you for every additional half-hour. Will your supervisors be signing off on the additional expenses?”

Corporates One and Two were visibly thrown by the torrent of information. Krejjh made a noise that was hastily stifled, while Arkady did her best to look bored and important.

“I… no, let me just contact my superior to get you the all-clear,” said Corporate One, reluctantly. “Johnson will help you to load your equipment into your…” She eyed the band’s battered van, visibly out of place in the parking lot full of sleek cars. “…vehicle.”

“Great!” Sana said brightly, handing the amplifier to Corporate Two, who took it and staggered slightly. As Corporate One spoke into a walkie-talkie, Sana and Red Gregor strode quickly ahead, the rest of the band trailing behind. Arkady lengthened her steps to catch up with them so that she could hear their quiet exchange.

“…doing here? Did Campbell send you?” Sana was asking Red Gregor.

“In a manner of speaking,” Red Gregor said. “He talks about you so much, I wanted to come and hear what all the fuss was about. Love the new line-up – you guys sound completely different to when I last heard you play.”

“It’s kind of a new thing,” Sana admitted. “New as of… today. I can fill you in, it’s just a long story.”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” Red Gregor said, and Arkady remembered that she’d liked him, the couple of times that they’d met. She could see why he and Campbell were good friends. “But let’s focus on getting you out of here. I’m guessing you need an exit?”

“And fast,” Sana agreed.

“Well, fast’s your speciality,” Red Gregor said with a grin. Sana smiled back at him, and Arkady wondered if Red was basing this off stories from Campbell, or if he and Sana knew each other better than Arkady had realised. It was a strange thought to have in the middle of everything.

Sana unlocked the van and slid open the back door. While Krejjh, Jeeter and Liu loaded their items into the trunk, overseen by Corporate Two, Red Gregor pretended to help Arkady and Sana with their instruments.

“So what now?” Arkady asked Sana. “I think I can probably take Johnson.”

“Arkady, you’ve already been in one fight today,” Sana said, disapproving.

“What’s your point?”

“I have a more bloodless suggestion,” Red Gregor said. “You’ve got a few pieces of equipment left in the venue, right? I’ll go back inside with Johnson to ‘collect’ them, say we’re going to check their supervisor has given you the go-ahead, and you guys make a break for it. I’ll bring the equipment in my car and meet you at the dive bar, half a mile down the road.”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to get away? What happens when they realise we’re gone?” Sana asked.

“I’ll come up with something,” Red Gregor assured her. “Just focus on getting yourselves out of here.”

He walked over to Johnson, who was slightly bemusedly watching Jeeter and Liu (who were clearly stalling for time) rearrange pieces of the drumkit in the trunk, and took him by the arm, steering him back towards the building and talking rapidly all the while.

“As soon as they’re out of sight, everyone needs to get in the van quickly,” Sana instructed. “And hang onto something. Okay? Now!”

Krejjh slammed the trunk of the van shut and everyone piled into the back without a word of protest. Arkady jumped into the front as Sana slid into the driver’s seat, reversing out of the parking space like a shot and executing an alarming hairpin turn to get them onto the road. Liu cried out in alarm, not used to Sana’s driving, and Arkady hung grimly onto the handle on the inside of her door.

“Everyone okay back there?” Sana asked, peering into the rearview mirror.

Arkady looked back to see Jeeter and Krejjh scrambling to put on their seatbelts, each of them having thrown an arm over Liu to keep her in place. “Oops, sorry, I forgot we don’t have a seatbelt for the middle!” Sana said cheerfully as they thudded over a speedbump. Liu closed her eyes. “There’s normally only four of us.”

“It’s not far to where we’re going, right, Captain?” asked Jeeter.

“Just a half mile down the road,” said Sana. “Red Gregor’s going to meet us there with the rest of the equipment, as soon as he can get away.”

“What was he doing at the gig? Did Campbell tell him where we were?”

“I think so. He said that he wanted to come and hear us play,” Arkady said, watching buildings blur past on either side of them. “I guess it was lucky he did.”

“We would’ve figured something out,” Krejjh said confidently.

“Uh, who’s Campbell?” Liu asked, cautiously opening her eyes again.

“He’s our… manager? Kinda?” Krejjh replied. “He doesn’t tell us what to do or anything, but he has a lot of contacts, so he gets us most of our gigs.”

“Contacts in the music industry? Or contacts in like… events venues, bars and clubs?”

“Yes,” Krejjh said helpfully.

“He just has a lot of contacts,” Jeeter said with a smile. Arkady smirked at Liu’s look of consternation.

“Tonight’s gig did not come through Campbell,” said Sana, spotting the dive bar Red Gregor had specified and indicating to turn off the road. “We got it through an agency, Fowleys. I guess that’ll teach us not to go outside Campbell’s network.”

“Hey, it worked out!” Krejjh said. “We got a new drummer out of the deal.”

“Well, for tonight, at least,” Sana said, now reversing into a parking space. “I gotta say, Violet, the way you fitted in with our sound? That was amazing. Our set sounded better than I could’ve imagined.”

Liu blushed. “They were great songs,” she demurred, as the van came to a stop.

“Too bad it was wasted on IGR Corp,” Arkady remarked, undoing her seat belt as they all climbed out of the van.

They got a table in the corner of the dive bar, which was pretty full and made it easy to blend in. As Sana went to get them all drinks, Krejjh and Jeeter started up some kind of nonsensical word game. Arkady and Liu glanced at each other occasionally, but otherwise sat in awkward silence.

Finally, Arkady asked something that had been on her mind since she intervened in the confrontation between Liu and Seiders, though it had taken a back seat to more pressing concerns. “What was it you were trying to get from that computer, anyway?”

“Sorry?” Liu asked, looking away from Krejjh and Jeeter, where she’d been listening in on the game with a slightly baffled expression.

“In the CEO’s office,” Arkady clarified. “I saw you take a flash drive out of the computer. What were you trying to get?”

“Oh,” Liu said, drawing out the little drive from inside her blouse. “Yeah, I was… trying to copy some files onto it. I’m not sure how much I got, though – I had to pull it out before the transfer was complete, and I think they’re encrypted.”

“What kind of files are they?” Arkady asked, thinking that she could probably break the encryption in an afternoon. Maybe less.

Liu hesitated, and Arkady narrowed her eyes. “You’re not still trying to protect your company, are you? In case you don’t remember-”

“No, no,” Liu said quickly. “I just – I’m not sure if it would be safe to tell you. Safe for you,” she added. “Right now, you have plausible deniability if anyone questions you. You genuinely don’t know what’s on this flash drive. So maybe it would be better to keep it that way.”

Arkady was a little bit pacified by that, but still – “Considering I’ve already aided and abetted you, I think that ship has sailed,” she pointed out. “No-one is going to believe I did it without having any idea what you were up to. Which I’m fine with,” she added, as a guilt-stricken look crossed Liu’s face. “I made a choice to help you, and so did the others. But I may as well know what the stakes are.”

“Yeah, that’s… fair,” admitted Liu. Next to her, Krejjh was doing a fairly poor job of pretending not to listen in. “They’re blueprints. My company – the company – has been developing… do you know what IGR Corp does? What kind of a company it is?”

“Some kind of a tech company?” Arkady said. She vaguely remembered Sana saying something about that when they got the gig. She hadn’t really been paying attention to the details.

Liu nodded. “Smart technology – specifically, smart home technology. We produce – I mean, they produce things like smart security systems, smart doorbells, systems that can detect when someone has a medical emergency. Systems that are designed to help keep people safe.”

Arkady had to work to keep from grimacing. She wasn’t sure that being monitored by a computer 24/7 fitted everyone’s definition of ‘safety’, but maybe Liu had never had cause to doubt that the people with power had her best interests at heart. Lucky her.

“But then,” Liu went on, her voice bitter, “I found out that the latest product we were developing – the one that was supposed to make everyone’s lives so much easier, so much better – is being created as a surveillance device. To eavesdrop on people and send their data back to the company. And I know that a lot of smart devices have audio capabilities, but – this was hardwired in. Impossible to disable. And this weird, secretive new division of the company has been set up to process the data.”

“What are they gonna do with it?” Arkady asked.

“Who knows,” Liu said. “They could be collecting it for the government, but – I think it’s more likely they’re just planning to sell it on to the highest bidder.”

Arkady’s eyes narrowed, and she wished that Sana had brought the drinks already so that she’d have something to down.

“You know,” Liu said, her voice suddenly much softer. “I, uh. I still haven’t thanked you properly for, uh, well-”

“O-kay!” came Sana’s voice, loudly, as she finally arrived at their table carrying a small tray laden with glasses. “Sorry for the delay, guys, there was a heck of a crowd up at the bar. Also, the bartender was really interested in talking to me while he pulled these drinks.” She made a wry expression, her dimple deepening in one cheek. “Cheer up, ‘Kady, I’ve got your favourite-” She slid a pint glass of raspberry ale in front of Arkady.

“Thanks,” Arkady mumbled, not looking at Liu.

Red Gregor arrived not long after, having apparently evaded IGR Corp by pretending that he was going outside to look for the band, and then driving off with the equipment before anyone realised what was happening. Sana passed him a drink from the tray; no-one asked how she already knew his preferred drink order.

“So look,” said Arkady, after they’d done some small talk and toasted to a successful getaway (Sana’s idea, of course). “Not that we didn’t appreciate the save earlier – you had pretty good timing – but why’d you go to all the trouble of coming to an IGR Corp function just to hear us play? How did you even get in?”

“I know a lot of people,” Red Gregor said mysteriously, with a fluid shrug. “As for why I came – you probably don’t know this, but I’ve been getting into the music biz lately.”

Arkady tried to remember what ‘biz’ Red Gregor had been in before, and couldn’t. He was one of those people who seemed to do a bit of everything.

“That’s awesome!” said Krejjh, looking delighted. “Are you going to start a band? Or manage one?”

Red Gregor smiled. “Actually, neither. I’m starting a record label,” he said. “And I want to sign you guys to it.”

Liu choked on her drink; Jeeter said, “Wow, really?” and even Sana looked taken aback. Clearly this hadn’t been the answer she was expecting.

“Us?” she said, as if Gregor could have meant anyone else. “As in…” She gestured around the table, including Liu.

Red Gregor nodded. “Look, your new sound is like nothing I’ve ever heard from a band before,” he said. “Campbell has always spoken highly of you guys, and I really liked your originals the last time I heard you perform. But with this new line-up? I think you could become really big. If that’s something that you want, of course.”

Sana sat back in her chair, looking thoughtful, while Krejjh looked practically ready to vibrate out of theirs with excitement. “That would be a pretty big step for us,” she said. “Not that we wouldn’t love – more exposure, better opportunities-”

“Gigs in legal venues?” put in Jeeter.

“More above-the-board performances,” agreed Sana. “But we’ve only played once with this new line-up. We don’t know for sure if we can replicate that – and I mean, we’d be asking Violet to just drop everything and join us full-time-”

Red Gregor held up his hands. “Like I said, it’s completely up to you,” he said. “I’m not here to pressure you into something you’re not ready for. But don’t underestimate yourselves. I wouldn’t be offering if I didn’t have faith in you guys.”

Sana looked around the table, taking in the mixture of expressions, ranging from Krejjh’s eagerness to Liu’s uncertainty to Arkady’s… Arkady didn’t know what her face was doing. “We’ll have to put it to a vote,” she said, predictably. “And if any of you need more time to think this over-”

“I’m in!” Krejjh said instantly. “We rocked tonight! I want to keep on rocking that hard. And we should totally record an album.”

Jeeter smiled fondly. “I’m on board with anything that will let me keep playing the keytar,” he admitted. “And I thought we sounded pretty awesome, as well.”

Sana looked at Liu. “Violet, you’re the one who this would be the biggest change for,” she said. “The rest of us are already playing in a band full-time. Well, with the odd side gig,” she added, because yeah, they did not yet make enough money from performing to cover the bills. “You barely know us, and you’re not under any obligation to stick around – or to switch careers.”

Liu gave a slightly broken laugh. “Well, I don’t really think I can go back to my old one,” she said. “That option evaporated as soon as one of my colleagues pulled a gun on me. Not… sure I’ve really had time to process that yet.”

Sana nodded. “If it’s too soon-”

“But no amount of processing is going to make my situation any different,” Liu went on. “I could try to get another job in my field, but… IGR Corp is a pretty well-known company. Word’s going to get around that I’m untrustworthy, especially if they put it about that I tried to steal corporate secrets.”

“They can’t do that,” Sana said immediately. “I used to do some union work; whistleblowing is a protected activity, and it’s against the law for them to blacklist you – to make it more difficult for you to obtain future employment.”

Liu smiled slightly. “I don’t think IGR Corp are too concerned with breaking the law,” she pointed out. “I appreciate it, but… this isn’t my first experience with a hostile work environment.”

Okay, so maybe Arkady should take back her earlier thought about Liu never having had cause to distrust the people in power.

“Besides, I haven’t even blown the whistle on them yet – I’m not sure if the information I have is worth anything,” Liu said, a little grimly. “And anyway… I think it’s time for a clean slate. So, if you’ll have me… I’m in.”

Which just left Arkady. She could see how pleased Sana was that Liu was willing to join the band full-time, even though she was trying to hide it. Krejjh and Jeeter, too, were excited – and not just at the prospect of getting better gigs and earning more money (though that was a very appealing prospect).

The fact was, Red Gregor was right – they’d sounded like a completely new band during their performance. Arkady had always liked their stuff (of course she did; she’d even co-written some of it) but the new sound gave it a flair she hadn’t even realised it had been missing. As much as she couldn’t help thinking of the dozens of ways this could go wrong, she wanted them to keep sounding like that. She wanted to see what else they could do.

“‘Kady?” asked Sana.

Arkady took a deep breath. “Sure. Let’s do this.”

[airquietworks]

How Izuku Learned to Stop Worrying and Enjoy Being in Love (IzuOcha Oneshot)

Summary: Izuku Midoriya is struggling in his newfound romance with Uraraka. He continues to stumble when he is with her as nerves get the best of him. He wonders how he can get better at love but the answers he's searching for are closer to his heart than he thinks.

Izuku Midoriya considered himself a man of many failings.

As he idly scrawled in a small pink notebook before class, he could not help but reflect on those inadequacies. He was not always as strong as he needed to be. He still struggled in a lot of social situations. He could lose control of himself when it came to his hero obsession.

But more than any of those, he hated that he had no idea how to be a good boyfriend.

It was not for a lack of trying. He had dedicated a lot of time studying the subject, dedicating the whole pink notebook to it. Every piece of advice that far too many people had bestowed upon him was carefully recorded, from strategic romantic lines to subtle romantic movements. It was all in the vain hope he could decipher the bizarre machinations - and palpitations - of his own heart.

And much more importantly, Uraraka's.

Izuku had few troubles facing down villains with lives on the line. But facing down the greatest woman he had ever met to woo her on a semi-regular basis was proving to be far more challenging than your average ne'er-do-well.

"Heya, Deku. Whatchya working on?"

"NOTHING, NOTHING DON'T LOOK!" the boy screeched as he leapt upward to stare into the person of his affections. Uraraka hovered over his desk, eyes left blinking at his sudden outburst.

His face burned; he would sooner face Todorki's flames than this kind of heat.

"Oh, okay then. That's fine," Uraraka replied with a tight-lipped smile, completely inscrutable.

"It's just...it's something particular and really rough and kind of private I'm sorry it's not you it's me and I really want to-"

"Good morning class. To your seats," Mr. Aizawa ordered loudly as he grumpily entered their homeroom. The students quickly acquiesced, Uraraka included, as she moved to take her desk near the back of Class 3-A.

"Talk after class," she whispered as she turned her back to him.

Izuku breathed a deep sigh, resisting the temptation to leap out of the room.

Boyfriend. Girlfriend. The words still felt strange bouncing around in his head. The past few weeks had been chaotic. Having Uraraka ask him out. Having an awkward but wondrous first date. Having a first, terrifying, glorious, first kiss. Carefully exchanging their first utterances of "I love you." Riding out the highs and lows of a hormone-driven storm, as young lovers did.

Neither of them had much experience but they worked it out, mostly.

But as fall gave way to the start of winter, the fires of their newfound romance were quickly extinguished under an avalanche of schoolwork and their own nerves. Their easygoing friendship of two years was now fraught with this new element hanging ominously over everything. It seemed their every interaction somehow ended up the same - him blurting out something stupid, or something else going terribly wrong before they both retreated to safer spaces.

He did not regret dating Uraraka - something he had not realized he really, really wanted. But it made everything between them a lot more difficult to manage.

They were burning, passionate people. They cared about one another. But so often, figuring out their relationship under the scope of romantic social conventions made their interactions more glacial than they had been in a long time.

A part of him longed for the more easygoing days. Surely, they could get back to that. Love should not be this hard - or frightening.

"Midoriya?"

Izuku snapped upwards to attention at his teacher's question. He stared straight ahead at Aizawa's unimpressed grimace. He must have zoned out harder than he thought.

He could hear a few giggles buzzing around his ears.

"Sorry, what was that?" Izuku asked quickly, hoping he could wing whatever response was necessary.

Aizawa gave him a tired sigh. "Keep your head out of the clouds and pay attention."

"Right, sorry sir!"

The giggles turned into full-blown laughter at his uncharacteristic spaciness. Izuku blushed deeply, thoroughly humiliated. He relished the chance to plunge his mind into class, something troubled heart.

He leaned on keeping his thoughts preoccupied the entire day, pointedly limiting his interactions with Uraraka until class let out. It was easy enough; their third-year schoolwork was no small task and necessitated the focus.

But the end of the day did arrive and with it came Uraraka marching over to his desk. Much as it was never an unpleasant sight - her lively gait was always a pleasure to watch - he had mixed feelings about the romantic maneuvering their talks now required.

"You seem really out of it today. Something the matter?" she asked, voice light but full of sincere concern. She was always looking out for him; he wished he could pay her back for that, somehow.

Despite bracing himself for conversation, he found himself wholly unprepared for the question. "Oh, uh, yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired I guess?"

Uraraka gazed intently at him, her usual bright smile absent from her face. She did not appear too convinced by him but mercifully let it slide. "Well, I can understand that. But I was wondering…" she trailed off, her eyes suddenly falling to the ground. "Maybe...we could study together later?"

He could see the rosier complexion on her face, something his surely matched. Once, that question would have been simple. A casual night between two friends. Now, the idea carried a lot more baggage - but a lot more promise, too. The promise of the things teenagers in love did.

How could he refuse?

"Sure!" Izuku replied, a little too loudly. He took a breath to try and steady himself, even as his shirt suddenly felt like it was choking him. "You could stop by my room...maybe around seven?"

Uraraka nodded with more vibrancy than he might have expected. "Alright, sounds good! See you later!"

Izuku watched as she rushed out of the room, clearly as eager to end the awkward exchange as much as he was.

"You two make me sick," Bakugo grumbled as he walked by Izuku's desk.

Izuku scrambled on instinct, readying himself for any further barbs. Most of their class was all-too-happy to see him and Uraraka get together after years of pining, but Bakugo had made no secret of his disgust for it.

"You need to get your head out of your ass," Bakugo murmured before walking angrily out of class.

Izuku breathed a sigh of relief, glad nothing worse came of it. Their relationship had cooled over the years, but he could never be certain about what might set the explosive boy off.

"How uncouth," Iida said from behind him. Izuku jumped slightly, startled. How had he missed his friend approaching? "Well, forget him. The pair of you seem to be getting along alright. Though admittedly, I'm not the most knowledgeable about this kind of thing."

Izuku stood up, relieved to get back to his dorms in search of respite. "Neither am I, to be honest."

"Well, I suppose experience is the best teacher," Iida mused as the two ventured out of class together. "But you two have been practically inseparable since we first got to U.A. You've always been there for one another and I have no doubt you'll work through your current tension."

"That obvious, huh?" Izuku replied, sighing. He did not fault Iida, but he could very much do without the rest of their class tirelessly watching their relationship.

But there was something to Iida's perspective. They had been in lockstep since before they even entered the building. The many times they teamed up and drove one another - the jitters of the heart were there, but it still felt so natural. Simple. He would forever look back at those days of friendship fondly.

Surely, that was a foundation for a relationship to last. He had jotted that down in his notebook, anyway.

"Pardon me, I don't mean to pry or anything. You two just stand out. And I do care about your well-being, after all." Iida bowed his head slightly in apology, formal as always. It was good to have a constant pillar like Iida. Unlike some things, their friendship had remained a steady constant.

"Don't worry about it," Izuku replied, laughing for the first time all day.

Izuku eventually arrived back at his room, gleefully getting into a comfier T-shirt and shorts. He jumped into his bed and breathed, basking in its softness. It was good to find peace after a difficult day.

With the distraction of school gone, his thoughts turned back to Uraraka, his heart skipping as her adorable face sprang back to his mind. He idly began to tidy up his room to prepare for their study session.

He had seen his fair share of depictions of love in the media, which often made it seem like the greatest joy imaginable. Which he had felt, certainly. But now, he couldn't help but think media undersold the anxiety, the nerves and the work it all involved.

Even in the act of cleaning his room, he found himself second-guessing himself. Should he put away more of his All Might figurines? Have a scented candle to provide a better atmosphere? Was now even the right time to be thinking of romantic gestures, or would she just focus on studying, given her drive?

"Get a grip, Izuku," he mumbled to himself, pulling at his chin. He really was too tense.

He settled on a more minimalist effort, clearing off his desk of memorabilia to give plenty of room for studying. They could leave it at that. Just another session, like the plenty they had before they were dating. No need to get stressed out.

The knocking on his door at 7 p.m. sharp seemed to pulse through his entire body. He sat still for a moment, a sudden onset of nerves freezing him in place.

Maybe a little reason to get stressed out.

With a breath to re-animate himself, he rushed over to the door, opening it widely to see his Uraraka standing there, beaming brightly with a stack of books. She wore a casual pink hoodie and a pair of jeans - nothing out of the ordinary and yet, still radiant.

"Heya Deku!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide and her cheeks looking exceptionally rosy. He blinked, finding it hard to look at her - not an infrequent occurrence. But there was something different about tonight. Her face looked...shinier, somehow.

"HiUraraka," he said quickly, gesturing for her to enter. "You look beautiful!"

The words stumbled out of his mouth without him thinking, and he immediately clamped it shut afterward.

Uraraka nearly stumbled into the room after the compliment, managing to save herself from falling by roughly sliding into the extra seat at his desk. "Thanks, Deku!" she said loudly with her hands balled in her lap. "You look hot!"

The statement hung in the space, quickly expanding to smother out any other sound they could have made. Deku could hear his own pulse ringing in his ears at the proclamation. His eyes bulged outward, but he dared not look directly at her.

She broke the suddenly frosty atmosphere first. "I mean, I mean because you're in a tight shirt! Wait, no, I mean, because you're wearing a shirt and I just noticed they started the heater in the building today and I just wondered if you were feeling - is it warm in here?" Uraraka suddenly pulled at the neck of her sweater, mouth moving more rapidly than he could ever recall.

Watching her murmur like he himself might, looking so flustered - by him, of all people - and feeling tension thick in the room, Izuku could not help it. He burst out laughing. It was ridiculous. He had a much better understanding of why all of this was so often a subject of comedy.

Mercifully, Uraraka joined, laughing with him, clearly relieved. The two dared a glance at one another, eyes full of mirth.

"We're hopeless at this, huh?" Izuku dared, smiling at her.

"Yeah, definitely," Uraraka replied, grinning back, rubbing at her brow. "Who would have thought dating would be so hard?"

"Both of us before we started, I think," Izuku said honestly, shifting to take a seat next to her. He opened his own workbooks, excited to get into the meat of their evening.

"True," Uraraka said with a sigh, shaking her head. "Still, I somehow didn't think it would be this difficult."

"Sorry that this hasn't been my strong suit." He did sincerely wish he could do this better. Be suave or whatever it was. She deserved it.

"Me too," Uraraka responded, giving him a smile that somehow made it all worthwhile. "Shall we get started?"

The two got into their homework in earnest - English, math and finally heroics law. Things fell into a more casual routine, each of them falling back to the patterns they would have as friends. It was nice. Cozy. Comfortable, like crawling under the covers on a cold day.

But Izuku found himself watching Uraraka more intently tonight than he might have before they started going out. He could not help but admire when her face got scrunched up at a difficult question. Or when it morphed into a glorious smile when she gained some new understanding. Or how intense she could get when she focused in on something, so determined and driven in a way he always admired.

He noticed other things, too. Like how soft her hair looked. Her cute, pink cheeks. Her skin, which looked strangely, especially vibrant today. It shined more than usual, which was saying something.

It clicked for him suddenly. He blushed and turned his eyes to his notebook, not bold enough to ask the question directly to her face.

"Are you...wearing makeup tonight?" Izuku inquired, breaking their silence.

He heard Uraraka shift but did not dare to look over.

"Err...yeah. You noticed?"

"Yeah…" Izuku responded, feet tensing beneath his chair. "...It looks good."

There was another awkward moment of noiselessness. Izuku stared intently at his textbook, eyes listlessly reading over some obscure law like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He prayed the compliment landed safely.

"...Thanks," she responded quietly, not saying anything more. Izuku dared not glance over to her.

The two worked for a little while longer, falling back into their routine. They eventually decided on a five-minute break, using it as a reprieve to dissipate the tension stored up in their bodies.

Despite everything, they had once again fallen into a comfortable companionship - until Uraraka broke the spell by reaching out for his hand.

It was far from the first time they had held hands, but it never failed to send a pleasant shock up his arm. Her hand was callused, worn as his was from many hours of training. Yet it still always felt pleasant to his touch and he was eager to grasp it.

He glanced up at her as she squeezed her hand in his, carefully keeping her pinky separated to stop her quirk from activating. She was beaming up at him from beneath her eyelashes, eyes warm as ever. He gulped, his free hand starting to quiver as he lost himself in the wonder of the moment.

She inclined her head ever so slightly, but he did not move. He was frozen still, enraptured, unable to think of anything beyond the feeling of her hand and the light upon her face.

He tried to snap himself back to reality. He should say something. Probably. This was a good time for a romantic line. He just had to wing it.

"You're-"

"Deku, I-"

The two were in-synch enough to speak in unison. But Izuku still felt it just added to the increasingly tense moment.

"You want to go first?" Izuku suggested, forcing himself to smile best he could despite his nerves.

Uraraka's face fell under the shadows of her locks. "No...well, sure, I guess. I just...I don't know. Maybe the moment's lost if that makes sense?"

It did but it did not make Izuku happy. How had he lost a moment so quickly, when he was barely cognizant of it even starting? It was frustrating.

"Yeah, I guess I do," Izuku responded, sighing mournfully. He let go of her hand, reaching out to rub at his temple. "It was a lot easier talking when we were just friends."

He did not think much of the question. They were open enough about some of the hiccups of romance. They trusted each other to talk through it.

But the statement carried more weight than he had imagined.

"Should we...should we just go back to that?"

Izuku let his hand fall to the side and sat up straighter, shocked into alertness by the sudden question. He looked at Uraraka, who was staring away from him, biting her lip.

A chill settled over him, the teasing embers of their teenage love suddenly seeming a distant memory.

"I...um…" he stammered, throat suddenly feeling clogged. His mind whirred, trying to find a suitable answer. "Why do you ask?"

He internally chided himself on the deflection. But he had no idea how to respond. Despite all the awkwardness, the moments of romance they had shared were blissful. He had never even thought about turning away from it all, so soon after starting to experiment with it.

Or had he? Why had he even suggested being friends was easier?

"It's just... you're right. It has gotten harder," Uraraka murmured, staring forlornly over her work. "I was worried before we started going out. I was worried about what it might do to our friendship or whether it would just distract us. And I can't help but feel like it has."

Izuku's mind flashed to that morning when his head got fogged up overthinking about her. She had a point.

He could feel it. A wall of ice, slowly coming between them, each of them burning up on either side of it. Maybe they could break their way through together but that appeared an increasingly monumental task. Especially when his own speech was so artless, with all the grace of an iceberg.

He could remember the days when such barriers seemed smaller. He had to admit that a part of him wanted to go back to that.

But other memories flooded into his mind too. Walking with her, hand-in-hand, after class. Laughing with her on their first date. The scorching heat of their first kiss. Even tonight, watching her, noticing things he realized he never properly appreciated.

"I...I didn't mean anything by it," he stated carefully. As soon as the words left his mouth, it sounded lame, even to him. Why could he not say the right thing? "I still like being with you like this."

"I do too," she responded quickly, looking up at him, a deep frown etched into her face. He hated seeing that on her. "I like it too. It hasn't been bad or anything. I just worry you know?"

"I get it," Izuku replied, reaching out to clasp both her hands, nerves dissipating in a bid to hang onto what they were starting together.

But the contact was fleeting. She gave a quick squeeze but withdrew quickly, eyes glancing to the side.

"Sorry. I was probably just being silly."

"You weren't," Izuku insisted. "I know it's been hard. And I know I've been getting distracted lately. But we can keep trying to get better at this, can't we?"

Uraraka nodded in response. "We always have, right? Still driving each other to improve."

The pair shared a strained laugh at that. It was strange, framing romance like heroics when the two things appeared worlds apart. But both took passion and work ethic. That was something they each had plenty of.

But the peace they returned to was poisonous. His mind wandered into more doubt as he mulled their frosty relations. He wanted to put his all into their romance but he wondered if they really had it in them, especially given the strains they were under as heroes-in-training.

The two exchanged only the lightest of pleasantries, any lingering trace of fleeting romance thoroughly doused by their talk.

"...I think maybe I should get going back. I've been missing out on sleep, so I want to turn it in early," Uraraka said suddenly, stretching out to depart.

It was a full hour sooner than she might normally go on a study night. But Izuku could not blame her for being eager to get away from him.

"Oh, alright. See you...around?" Izuku wished he could have set a date with more confidence, but work-studies and training would keep them busy. Nights like this were fleeting. He wished he had not wasted it.

"Yeah, sure. We'll figure something out," she replied sincerely, with a smile. Without any fanfare, she walked out of the room, waving before shutting the door. "Good night!"

"Good night," Izuku responded, the light slamming of the door rudely banging against his eardrums. He waited a few seconds before letting his head fall to his desk, burying it in his notebook. He gazed into the seemingly endless expanse of white emptiness.

Haywire emotions clashed within him, keeping him locked a strange stillness. Frustration at the icy state of his first love. Anger at his own ineptitude. Anxiety over the endless uncertainties love brought with it, something no amount of effort seemed to help him figure out.

He had messed up somehow. He knew that. He had spoken unthinkingly and he was paying the price.

Izuku set his face into a hard line. His mind conjured up the images that were plaguing him more and more - the two of them, easygoing, meeting up after school, working together at the sports festival, training together in their first year. The nostalgia tasted sweet, his heart eagerly basking in the rays from the suns long set.

But those days were gone now. He had to move on if he wanted to experience what lay within love's confounding mysteries. He might not know what would happen but he would have to trust himself.

More importantly, he needed to trust her. It was Uraraka, after all. She had never let him down.

With a groan, he got out his little pink notebook. He would need to think up an apology - the perfect one. Get a plan ready and act quickly. He would rehearse it, to ensure he avoided shoving his foot in his mouth again.

"This is going to go perfectly," he murmured to himself, before submerging himself in his studies.

Despite his oft-messy exterior, Izuku could operate as efficiently as a well-oiled machine when he put his mind to it.

Today, he went into overdrive. He woke up a half-hour early to put some extra effort into his appearance, combing the messier strands of his hair and ensuring his uniform was neat.

He practiced words to her, mumbling up a storm as he went about the rest of his morning ritual.

He adjusted his green winter coat in the mirror carefully, trying to ensure he did not look weird. Uraraka may not care that much about his appearance - he doubted she would be dating him if she did - but it couldn't hurt to be as proper as possible. More than a few people had given him that advice, anyway.

Satisfied enough, Izuku ran out the door, deftly avoiding a few of his classmates to make it out. A rare snowstorm had hit the area hard last night, leaving the ground coated in a garish mixture of snow, slush and ice. It was early enough that the walkways were still covered.

It was not exactly a picturesque scene, but it would do well enough. Speed was important here. He did not want their terrible conversation from the previous night to fester. Best to face it head-on, like he would a villain.

As he expected, Uraraka was the next person to come through the doors. He knew she had pushed herself to become one of the earlier risers in her class. He had timed his own exit from the dorms accordingly.

Once again, she took his breath away. Dressed in a brown coat and an adorable pink hat and mittens, it seems strange to him how effortlessly she shone. He blinked, as stricken as the first time he laid eyes on her.

"Oh, hey Deku!" she said with her carefree bubbliness, flashing him a smile, seemingly untroubled by the events of the previous night. "Didn't think I'd see you here!"

He gulped, struggling to think with how smitten he was with her. But he had practiced more for this - to avoid his heart tying his tongue. He just had to stick to the script. He could do this.

"Yeah, I thought we could walk to class together this morning and just talk a bit." He kept his voice even-keeled and smooth, displaying little of the nerves he felt. He had to steel himself for this. She deserved that.

Her eyebrows flew upwards on her face, her lips loosening slightly as she appraised him. The expression did not last long, morphing back into another delighted smile. "Sure!"

Thrilled at the early success, Izuku made his way down the front steps. This was good. He had already cleared the first hurdle and she seemed receptive. All he had to do was repeat a few key phrases and he was sure they could put that night behind them. That she could see his commitment. Everything would go exactly as he planned it.

He felt his feet suddenly give way. Before he realized it, he was slipping on a patch of ice. He flipped upward into the air and soon found himself falling rapidly, his eyes gazing upon the overcast skies above.

Izuku prepared to meet the ground and welcomed his own destruction.

Before everything broke apart with his fall, he found himself floating in mid-air. He blinked for a moment, his mind not immediately processing what exactly had happened. He got a strange sense of vertigo as his body adjusted to its sudden weightlessness.

"You okay? We better be careful with all this ice!" Izuku inclined his head to see Uraraka, eyes focused intently on him. She still wore her beautiful smile, her suddenly ungloved hand extended, connected to his upper arm. When had that happened? She had quick reflexes.

Uraraka had saved him. Again.

His mind suddenly flashed, his heart hammering as he found himself warping back two years. He occupied two spaces, two times, at once. The pair of them together before their entrance exam. Both of them here, together, now. A strange, cute girl going out of her way to stop him from face-planting. His wonderful girlfriend preventing him from falling, rescuing him once more. Uraraka grinning at him in both places, friendly as always. Him, completely flabbergasted.

Oh. Oh. Right. It had always been this way.

She had always sent his heart flying with the greatest of ease. She had always gotten him flustered. Since they came to U.A., she had always been there for him. Had always been a friend, a companion, a saviour. At the core, nothing between them had changed.

She was one of his heroes. What had he ever been so afraid of?

In his mind's eye, he could see the wall of ice that had formed between them. That he had formed between him with his own glacial thinking. With a thought, the ice broke apart, no longer separating him from his best friend.

"Err...Deku? You alright?"

Izuku flew back into the present, his head no longer feasting on the sweet mixture of nostalgia and love. He saw Uraraka waving her bare hand before him, trying to bring him back to reality.

Without thinking, he grabbed a hold of the hand, making it fall still. He lowered it, giving her a wide grin.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Sorry about that!"

He noted a blush flooded her cheeks, but she did not react otherwise. However, her expression faltered after the moment lasted a few seconds too long.

"Hey, Deku?"

"Hmm, what is it?"

"I need my hand back if I'm going to release you."

"Oh, right!" he laughed as he let go. A voice inside nagged at him for the blunder, but in this instant, he no longer felt worried about such missteps. Suddenly, he felt surer about their bond than he could ever remember being.

She took off her other glove and carefully brought her fingers together. He oriented himself to land on his feet, taking care not to slip this time.

He had a script he could launch into right now. Prepared, rehearsed, proper. The words would not lead him astray.

But that speech would not do for him now. He let it scatter to the far reaches of his mind. His faith in his carefully prepared romantic notes went with them.

A true hero spoke directly from the heart. He could not be afraid of that anymore.

"I love you, Ochako Uraraka," he stated unabashedly, reaching out to grab one of her hands again. "And I want to stay with you."

The silence was palpable. Uraraka blinked rapidly at him, her eyebrows furrowing. "...What…?"

"Sorry, I just felt I needed to say that." Izuku kept his muscles lax and his voice even-keeled. He refused to get budged by nerves again. His feelings for Uraraka were an unshakeable pillar now; his actions would reflect that. "I messed up last night and I'm sorry about that. I couldn't wait to apologize. I don't want there to be any doubt about how I feel about you. About us."

"Oh. Oh." He felt a hard squeeze on his hand and watched as Uraraka suddenly inclined her head downward. "This is a lot to take in, Deku."

He reached his free hand out towards her, wanting to comfort her. "Sorry, Uraraka I didn't mean-"

"I wanted to say sorry, too. I felt awful about what I said last night," she said softly, her eyes flying upward to meet his. She stared forward, her irises displaying a powerful intensity. "But I guess you beat me to the punch this time."

He breathed, a pressure lifting off his chest. "Well, that's-"

Before he could react further, Uraraka pounced on him, throwing her full weight into it. He caught her easily enough, but he was left defenceless as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips into his.

His pulse raced as he pushed back into her, drinking all of her in. Their kisses before were chaste, delicate, his insecurities often freezing him in place. This was different. They were melting in a passionate inferno, the two heroes pushing, driving each other, harmonious as they ascended to the heavens.

Uraraka pulled away first, but did not separate, keeping her forehead connected to his. Her brown eyes shined brighter than ever, like stars lighting the way in the sky.

"Wow."

"Wow," he echoed.

"Love you, Deku," she stated simply, surely. "Sorry, I wanted to get you back for surprising me, somehow."

She gave him a cheeky grin and he laughed at that.

"Not how I expected we'd next say that to each other, but I'll take it," she continued.

"I guess it had been a while." He could not remember exactly when they had last exchanged simple affirmations of love. Had it been that first date? Was he so lost in his own head that he had forgotten to repeat it?

"...Too long, I think," she replied grinning back. "We both got a little lost."

"Well, I promise I'm going to say it more often," he murmured sweetly to her, inclining his head slightly to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'm done with worrying. I love you, Uraraka."

"...Were you planning this?" she questioned, her head hot under his lips.

"Not exactly. My idea kind of...went up in the air."

She giggled at that. "This is because I caught you?"

Perhaps that should be embarrassing but he nodded without hesitation. "I realized how much you've been there for me. And how things don't have to change so much between us. We're still friends."

"The best," she corrected.

"And we'll be there for each other, right?" He raised a fist towards her. "Every step of the way."

Uraraka completed the fist bump. "Same as ever."

"So should I really worry about if we're dating?" It was a rhetorical question, now. At that moment, he knew he would not be inhibited by those doubts again. Most of the time, anyway. But they would work through any hurdles together.

"Not at all," she answered anyway, for herself and for him.

She suddenly opened her hand, grabbing onto him and triggering her quirk. He went weightless once more, allowing her to more easily pull him in and share their love together once more.

Forevermore.

AN: Written for the IzuOcha Discord server writing contest. Prompt: Ice breaker.  Forgot to post this on Tumblr a couple of weeks back, so I decided to add it here. 

Thank you to the organizers. I hope you all enjoyed one of the fluffiest things I've written.

Let me know what you thought! Leave a like and a reblog if you can. They are important nourishment for us writers ^_^

[yourfaveisyanderematic]

im thinking about that trish/bodyguard so piece you wrote a while back, and all I can think about is trish being so desperate for any sort of affection that she’s just like “okay, time to fake my own kidnapping”

Hm.  I put my Narancia piece down to bang out something for this prompt bc this is, as the kids say, a mood.  Modified it just slightly though, because that’s how I am.

love is just another kind of greed.

Trish didn’t get the appeal of dogs.

They were cute, sure.  Little silky fluffy things that yipped and yapped and tolerated being carried around in purses.  They were also expensive as hell—hundreds of thousands of lire could be invested in premium shampoos, gold-flaked specialty foods, champion breeding (why, again?  You’re not taking this dog to any fucking show, Anastasia, you don’t need it)—and those two things alone should have had her clamoring to get one.

She didn’t want one, though.  Dogs were frail, frilly little things that cried endlessly when you kicked them (even if it was an accident) and whined for attention even if you were busy, and they couldn’t do anything, anyway.  They could posture, sure.  Strike a pose and bark and bark like the silly boys playing at being gangsters she had to tolerate every now and then, but if you pointed a gun at one and pulled the trigger, that would be that.  They’d fall over with a little sigh and get all still and silent, and then they wouldn’t be good for anything anymore.

The reason she was thinking about this, by the way, was because she was bored.  You were taking forever.  Weren’t you taking this whole kidnapping thing seriously?

“How’s your ankle, babe?”

Ugh.  Trish took a breath and pulled a smile onto her lips, gently tipping her head back to look up at the man.  Despite the coiffed hair and designer shoes, he’s nothing special; some dumb kid with good looks and soft hands, partying his youth away with cash that wasn’t his.  A drop in the bucket of young hedonists.  The kind who took a pretty girl’s smile as an invitation and the light brush of hands as a blank check.  More importantly, however, he was the kind she could lure in without too much effort, too eager to get into her pants to ask many questions.

She didn’t even remember his name.  

Trish raised her foot, a languidly elegant motion that let his eyes trace every inch of her delicate skin, and after a moment’s hesitation he rearranged the pillow to better cushion the black-bruised skin, one of a handful of trophies from an ‘accidental’ fall she took down the stairs here.

“I’m bored,” she replied, as if the pain thrumming through the fibers of her muscles didn’t exist (it was that easy to ignore; she’d endured worse for less) “don’t you have anything fun to do?”

He hummed back, delicately rubbing small circles around the site of the bruise, cushioning the movement by keeping his other hand on her heel.  She suppressed a laugh; were those tentative prods supposed to do anything?  Did he think she’d shatter if he touched her?

Despite his arrogance, Rich Boy here didn’t have much initiative; the only thing Trish didn’t have to prod him into doing was getting her back to his expensive loft.  Frankly, it was a miracle the two of them had managed to slip away from you at all.

I’d love to party with you, cutie, but first we have to ditch my chaperone.  Come on, let’s go before they notice we’re not at the bar anymore.

Throwing herself down the stairs in a tangle of Versace and toned limbs had been an impulse, but wasn’t everything tonight?  So what if she’d scraped herself up, or felt a horrible snap inside her leg as she plummeted to the bottom.  It’d all be worth it soon, once you’d realized she’d been made off with and had to go find her.

You really did need to hurry it up, by the way.  Eventually Rich Boy here was going to get his nerve up and actually try to touch her, and then she’d have to just kill him and wait for you by herself.  That would be boring, too.

He probably didn’t even notice she was getting impatient, honestly.  His eyes seemed to be on a rail, tracing a line from her plush lips to the delicate hollow of her collarbone to lower still.  Typical, really.  

Rich Boy starts to chatter, some fumbling innuendo about the things they could get up to with just the two of them, but she isn’t paying any attention to that.  In the space between heartbeats, the air changed, the stale conditioned air suddenly heavy with tension that only she could feel.  The storm had rolled in.  It was coming down the hall.

Rich Boy’s voice registered, asking if she was okay, and it was in that moment Trish realized she’d been sitting bolt upright, abandoning the discomfort of the expensively minimalistic couch as she waited for the storm to draw nearer.

It knocked on the door.  Three short, sharp taps that resounded in the relative silence of the loft, a muted thunder.

“Who could that be?” Rich Boy muttered to himself, and then “Stay right here.  I’ll get it.” as he wandered off.  She didn’t reply, just listened, heart in her throat as his footsteps echoed across the tile, undoing the lock on the front door and drawing it open to meet the interloper.

“Can I help—“ the words weren’t even out of his mouth as something—your fist, Trish thought with a thrill of delight, you must have hit him—connected with a hollow-sounding thud, and his body careened into the dining table.  

“Holy shit!”

“Where is she?”  In contrast to his own panicked scrabbling, your footsteps were slow and measured as you advanced.  You didn’t even shut the door behind you; there’s no need to.  Nobody stupid enough to try to help could stop you.

Trish considers throwing herself off the couch—she wants to watch you work, and maybe seeing her sprawled on the floor would make her seem more helpless—but you’re already in view, poking your head into the doorway after the Rich Boy who staggered back in, and she knows what you’re seeing: your charge, sprawled on some pervert’s couch, visibly bruised.  You opened your mouth to say something, but Rich Boy drew your attention.

“Jesus Christ—don’t come any closer, or I’ll—“ the gun he pulled was just as flashy as the rest of him, and equally worthless; under the gaudy gold plating and filigree was a waste of metal that wouldn’t be hurting anyone tonight.

If nothing else, because the safety was still on.

You didn’t even respond, except to sigh.  The invisible blades of your Stand sliced apart the gun and the hand holding it, showering him in splintered metal as he went down with a high-pitched shriek of agony.  You strode forward, stepping on his leg to hold him in place as he started to crawl away, already deaf to the whimpering babble that might have been bargaining.  Your head turned, pinning Trish in place with your stare.

“I wish you wouldn’t do this, Miss Una.”

Your voice was soft, but with an edge, the one that always gave Trish a thrill of joy when she heard it.  It was different from your normal tone, the indulgently subservient I’m your faithful bodyguard and nothing more mask you wore when other people were watching.  Different, too, from the terrified adoration you held for her in private as she did what she pleased with you.

This was your bite.  Incandescent rage, barely restrained in the taut coil of your muscles and your piercing glare.  It was hideous, savage, implacable, the look that heralded only pain and death as you obliterated anyone who even breathed a threat in her presence.

How dare you, you said with every movement as your Stand opened the man up in a shower of blood, how dare you try to steal her.  How dare you let her come to harm.

How dare you touch my master with your dirty hands.

No command she gave could ever get you like this.  You were a killing machine she could point at anyone she chose with only a glance; you would destroy yourself for her whims, if she let you, but there was no passion in obedience.  

Your voice has turned plaintive, almost hurt, and it puts her back in the moment.  “Do you doubt my devotion?  Were you just bored?  You could have just told me to kill for you.  Look, I’ve even let you hurt yourself.  How can I face your father now?”

Don’t look away, Trish wanted to cry out, seeing you turn your glare back toward the remains of your enemy, get angry with me.  Let me see how love twists your face.

These were the moments she knew you loved her.  The uncontrollable passion of your fury, for her and only her, only shone when something threatened to take her from you.  These were the moments that Trish Una well and truly and fully felt wanted, and they were getting addicting.  Was it cruel to do this to you—to drive you to this edge of madness, repeatedly and on a whim, purely to satiate her cravings?  Perhaps, but it felt good not to care.  

You drew near to her, taking another look at her injuries, and she breathed the smell of blood and smoke that hung around you like it was perfume.  Your touch was delicate, but not gentle, and after a few seconds you pronounced it definitively broken.  She wouldn’t be walking for a while.  She was fine with that.

“Then you’ll have to carry me everywhere,” she declared, crossing her arms.  You met her eyes, searching them for something, and then raised a hand to graze her cheek.  She leaned into it a little, sure that it was a caress, but your hand came away with a smear of blood; you’d been rubbing it away.

“If that’s your wish, Miss Una,” you murmured, and then gathered her into your arms.  Her arms wrapped around your shoulders as she relaxed into you, until her lips were inches away from your own.  You didn’t incline your head in the slightest as you carried her out of the loft, just let your breath ghost across her face until she finally closed the distance and kissed you full on the mouth in the elevator.

There wasn’t any appeal in dogs for someone who already had a wolf.

[stolethekey]

come back and tell me why i’m feeling like i’ve missed you all this time

or: nat and steve go to ikea.

inspired by this tumblr post and set between avengers 1 and winter soldier.

read on ao3

-

Brooklyn is lovely during the spring.

It’s something Steve has rarely taken the time to appreciate, but as he walks down the street toward his apartment, he notices that the sun is shining pleasantly through a clear, blue sky. A slight breeze blows through the air, rustling the paper grocery bag in his arms, and he feels a rush of affection for his hometown as he pushes through the doors to his apartment building.

A faint smile graces his lips as he walks up the stairs, shifting the bag into the crook of his right elbow. His free hand reaches into his pocket for his keys, and the jingle they give as he pulls them out sounds positively cheerful.

There are times he thinks he should move; there are days the buildings seem too suffocating, days the city seems too overwhelmingly a mixture of foreign and familiar. But there are also days—days like today—when it feels welcoming, like this is where he belongs. Like it might be home.

Those days are becoming slightly more common.

Steve unlocks his door and steps over the threshold, humming mindlessly as he kicks his shoes off and sets the groceries on the kitchen table. He’s about to take the loaf of bread off the top when he hears someone clear their throat behind him.

He spins, fists already rising, to see a familiar redhead stretched lazily across his armchair.

“Hello, Captain,” Natasha almost purrs, a slight amusement flickering through her eyes. “At ease.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Relax,” she says, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “I’m not gonna fight you, so you can put those hands down.”

Steve lowers his fists slightly, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins does not slow down. “How did you get in?”

She shrugs. “You’d be hard-pressed to find an apartment I couldn’t break into,” she says nonchalantly. “Don’t take it personally. I’ve broken into many a government building—apartment windows are hardly a challenge.”

He takes a step forward, hands unfurling slightly at his sides. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I came to drop this off,” she says, gesturing at a box of assorted trinkets that Steve now notices is in the corner. “But then I got here and I realized that you have a problem.”

“I’m not the one who climbed through a window to drop a box off.”

“Touché.”

Steve rolls his eyes and leans against the wall, waiting for her next words. She merely looks at him, her face a mask of careful indifference.

He sighs. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Natasha says, with what Steve thinks is an unnecessarily dramatic flourish, “Is that you’re living like a college student. And you’re ninety-five years old.”

“I am not—’

“You are,” she insists, standing with a face full of determination. “I mean, look at this. You have one cup and two whole chairs. This is sad, Steve, no wonder you hate living here.”

“I don’t hate living here—”

She narrows her eyes. “Really? You never think that this maybe doesn’t feel like home anymore?”

He hesitates, and she smirks. “That’s what I thought. Luckily, it’s nothing a trip to IKEA won’t fix.”

“I—IKEA?”

“Yeah,” she says, turning to grab her jacket off the armchair. “It’s a Swedish store, sells everything from bedframes to meatballs—”

“I know what it is. I just wasn’t planning on going.”

She purses her lips but says nothing, and he sighs again.

“What are you trying to do?”

“I’m not trying to do anything.”

“You’re always trying to do something.”

There is a beat of silence before she answers. “I know what it’s like to be dragged out of a world you knew and dropped into one you’re supposed to know but can’t seem to,” she says with a shrug. “I just wanted to help you navigate that.”

She opens the window and slings a leg over the ledge, looking back at him as she does. “But if you want to live like a hermit, go ahead. Suit yourself.”

Something squirms in Steve’s stomach.

“Wait,” he says hurriedly, and she does, an expectant look on her face. “I’ll go.”

“Great,” she says, climbing back into the room and pushing past him. “Then let’s go, before I have to spend another second in this depressing apartment.”

“No one asked you to be here, you know.”

She turns back towards him, something similar to mirth in the corner of her eyes. “You’re a human disaster. This is an emergency. And I deal with emergencies.”

“I really don’t appreciate your tone,” Steve mutters, following her obediently down the staircase.

“Maybe I’ll change it when your apartment stops looking like it’s inhabited by a teenage guy who’s never seen a turkey baster in his entire life.”

“I—what’s a turkey baster?”

She laughs as she unlocks the car, gesturing at him to get in. “You’re about to find out.”

-

It is a testament to how much he has adapted, Steve thinks, that the interior of IKEA doesn’t send him into a massive I-grew-up-during-the-Great-Depression heart attack.

The second floor is big enough to house an entire army regiment and their families, and as Steve passes the display for a “cute, minimalist home!” that has more furniture than he grew up with he nearly has a stroke.

“Relax,” Natasha murmurs from his side, winding her arm through Steve’s. “You look like an amateur thief who’s trying to sneak a bag of chips out the door.”

“It’s just a lot,” he hisses as they stop next to a sofa. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Hi,” a woman wearing a blue vest says brightly, stepping towards them. “Can I help you find anything today?”

“Oh, no,” Natasha says, suddenly beaming. “My boyfriend and I are moving into a new apartment together, and we’re just looking for some furniture to liven up the place. We’ll be fine on our own. Thank you, though.”

The employee retreats, and Natasha pushes Steve farther into the store, a firm hand on his back.

“How do you do that?” He asks, once the employee is out of earshot.

“Do what?”

“Make your eyes—make them sparkle like that.”

She snorts. “Practice.”

They come to a stop near another sofa—really, how many couches can there possibly be in one room—and she forces him to sit in it.

“Look,” she says, arms crossed. “I know this is overwhelming. But it’s for your own good.”

“I know,” he mutters. “I know, it’s just—I spent so much of my life living off the bare minimum, and this just seems so—”

“Indulgent,” she says, nodding. “I know. You think I didn’t feel the same way when I got here? But having once lived in terrible conditions doesn’t mean that you should be afraid to live in good ones now. If anything, it means the exact opposite. We know how lucky we’ve gotten to be able to have a better life—shouldn’t we do the most we can to live it?”

He hesitates, and her eyes soften. “We both got another chance at life,” she says, almost gently. “We deserve to make the most of it. Trust me, it took me a long time to accept that too. But we’re going to live here, and now, no matter what. So we might as well make it as comfortable as we can.”

Steve takes a deep breath, his fingers kneading the fabric of the couch. “Okay,” he says, standing slowly. “Okay. But no more fake boyfriend stuff. That seems unnecessary.”

“On the contrary,” she says, a sly smile making its way across her face, “It’s very necessary. You’re a terrible liar, and you need practice going undercover.”

“I—um—”

She grins again, slapping him with a towel she has apparently summoned out of thin air. “I’m kidding,” she laughs. “Not about the fact that you’re a terrible liar. But we don’t have to do the fake-couple stuff. We can save that for next time.”

Natasha turns and heads back down the hallway and he follows, a faint smile toying at his lips.

He’s making progress, Steve thinks, as he lets her pick out a new couch and some new shelves. She asks him what kind of TV stand he wants and he actually gives her an opinion (wood), which makes something he thinks is pride flash briefly through her eyes.

They’ve made it onto the bottom floor, having placed an order for the most comfortable couch Steve has ever sat on, and are each pushing a cart through the looser items when he starts to think she’s stretching the limits again.

“I don’t need a forty-piece silverware set.”

She rolls her eyes as she takes the box off the shelf. “You don’t need that obnoxious suit that makes you look like a child’s doll, either, but you wear it anyway.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Sure,” she says, shrugging and walking toward the drinkware.

“I—wait,” he says, jogging slightly to catch up to her, “You don’t like the suit?”

She smirks as she tosses a six-pack of coasters into the cart. “It’s just…very loud.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s just—the colors, they’re kind of obnoxious—”

“Obnoxious?”

“No—no,” she says, laughing slightly. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just a lot brighter than what I would wear.”

“You literally only wear black.”

“Yeah, for stealth,” she says, putting so many wine glasses into the cart he thinks he can see rainbows, “It’s functional. The red, white, and blue are not. Do you know how hard it is to work with that?”

“Fine,” he says, forgoing a protest about the glasses for a more important conversation. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll get a stealth suit. But you don’t get to make fun of it.”

She gasps in mock shock, and insulted expression spreading across her face. “I would never.”

They roll the carts to checkout, and Steve realizes with a jolt that they are both somehow full. He pales slightly as the price for the first chair comes up on the screen—$25.99—and Natasha slaps a hand over his eyes.

“Turn around,” she says, almost carelessly.

“Why—“

“So you don’t see the prices.”

“But I have to pay for them—“

“No,” she says airily, “You don’t. It’s going on my SHIELD credit card.”

“Okay, well, I have a SHIELD credit card too—“

“Yeah, but it’s easier if I do it. They’ve learned the hard way not to ask questions about my purchases.”

“But—“

“America, like many other countries, has a terribly exploitative economy. SHIELD gets a lot of funding from a lot of very wealthy people that employ a lot of not-very-wealthy people. If anything, this little furniture expedition is just us taking advantage of a system that would not hesitate to take advantage of us.”

He hesitates, and some of his discomfort must show on his face, because her expression softens. “Turn around,” she says again, her hands rotating him gently. “We can talk about it in the car.”

She must notice that he is still uneasy by the time she’s paid what he is sure is an exorbitant amount of money, because she carries her share across the parking lot instead of making him carry all of it and doesn’t make a single quip (though he’s sure “what was the serum for, anyway?” is screaming in her head). They fill the trunk and the backseat with bags and boxes, and after Natasha pulls back onto the street she glances briefly at him.

“The world is full of shades of grey,” she says quietly. “If you’re going to live in the 21st century, you’ll need to accept that.”

“You don’t think I’m trying?”

“I know it’s hard when you’ve had such a…black-and-white view of right and wrong your entire life. But things are different now. The best we can do is try to be mostly good. And sometimes we have to compromise to do that.”

“In ways that make me not sleep so well.”

She sighs, but there is no exasperation in her voice when she speaks. “It’s better than not being able to sleep at all.”

He looks over at her to see her eyes trained on the road, her expression slightly wistful.

“I’m trying,” he says quietly. “I really am.”

She turns to meet his gaze, an uncharacteristic softness in her eyes. “I know.”

The tension has lifted slightly by the time Natasha pulls back into the apartment parking lot, and as they lug their purchases up the steps and into the living room, she starts delegating tasks with a comfortingly familiar authority.

“They’re moving the couch in tomorrow, and they’ll help you get rid of your old one, but we should probably do everything else tonight. I can do the TV stand, if you want to get started on the shelves.”

“You don’t have to—I mean, you’ve done enough, I don’t want to force you to do more work—”

“You’re not forcing me to do anything,” she says, smiling slightly. “This was my idea. Who would I be to leave you with all of this disassembled furniture?”

A curious sense of relief starts creeping into Steve’s shoulders. “I guess I could use the help,” he says, and she grins. “I’ll order us a pizza.”

“Oh, God, yes,” she says, already ripping open the TV stand box. “Please do.”

The next hour passes in relative silence, the two of them focused solely on the pieces of wood in their hands. They finish their respective pieces and move on to the next, the occasional pounding of a hammer or wrinkle of paper providing brief interruptions of a comfortable, quiet atmosphere.

It isn’t until Natasha lets out a slight growl that Steve looks up, noticing that a few strands of hair have escaped the ponytail she’d thrown up haphazardly at the start of the night. The pieces of what is potentially an office chair are spread out in front of her, and as she stares at the instruction manual with a hatred typically reserved for mass murderers he lets his screwdriver drop to the floor.

“What’s going on?”

She looks up, frustration in every inch of her gaze. “Did you know that I can speak fourteen languages?”

“Uh, no, but what does that—”

“I speak fourteen languages,” she hisses, slamming the manual down next to her, “and the instructions are in none of them.”

He laughs at that, and even though she initially looks offended her face softens slightly as he crawls across the floor toward her.

“Let me see,” he says, picking the manual back up. “I think your brain needs a break from this chair.”

“I was tortured and starved for decades, I think I can handle a chair—”

“Relax,” he says, shoving her towards the other end of the room. “Go build my shoe rack. We’ll trade.”

She picks her way across the hardwood, grumbling the entire time, and sits down next to the half-built rack with a huff. “Where the fuck is our pizza, anyway?”

“Maybe it’s waiting for you to finish that rack.”

She glares at him, wrinkling her nose when he shoots her an innocent grin, and then starts pounding a nail into the wood with a truly impressive force.

The doorbell rings just as Steve finally puts the last wheel on the chair and Natasha completes her third curtain replacement. She lets out a delighted yelp at the sound, and Steve scrambles past his newly-built shoe rack to open the door, an excessive amount of excitement rushing through his veins. He tips the delivery man far too much and kicks the door closed as he turns back around, raising his eyebrows at his companion.

“About time,” she says, beckoning at him to join her on the floor. “I’m going to die if I don’t eat that right this second.”

He sits next to her, their backs leaning against the wall, and cracks open the top box. She very nearly tackles him in her haste to grab a slice, and as she takes a bite out of it she lets out an animalistic moan.

“This is the best meal I’ve ever had. Like, in my entire life.”

Steve snorts. “How many Michelin-star restaurants have you eaten at, again?”

She shakes her head, chewing rapidly. “Doesn’t matter. This is better.”

He rolls his eyes, but as he bites into his own slice and the cheese hits his taste buds, he finds it very hard to argue.

They eat their way through two large pizzas, talking and laughing the entire time, and after the last slice is gone her shoulders slump.

They sit in silence for a while, both pondering the empty pizza boxes, before Natasha sighs. “Should we get back to work, then?”

Steve groans. “Probably.”

She crawls reluctantly back toward the middle of the room, half-heartedly picking up a screwdriver on the way. “Do you think we’ll finish tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says, trying to put as much gusto into his voice as he can. “I believe in us.”

They don’t, but they do manage to assemble everything that needs to be built before they find themselves sprawled out across the floor, lying on top of a brand-new rug.

“Nat,” Steve mumbles, exhaustion overtaking his brain so rapidly that he doesn’t realize this is the first time he’s using that nickname. “We hafta set the glasses and plates up. Make them pretty on the shelf.”

“Mmmrph.” Her eyes are closed as she curls up on the rug, her words slurring slightly. “We can do it tomorrow. I’ll help if you get more pizza.”

“Mkay. Deal.”

He heaves himself to his feet and shuffles over to the light switch, pausing to grab the two throw blankets peeking out of a shopping bag on his way. He turns the lights off, but the moonlight peeking through the window is bright enough for him to see Natasha’s silhouette on the floor. Her eyes stay closed as he makes his way back onto the rug and drapes a blanket over her, but he notices a soft smile on her face as he lowers himself onto the floor beside her.

The night is just warm enough to be comfortable, and as he burrows deeper into his blanket a gleam of moonlight catches Natasha’s hair, the silver light making the red shine.

It’s the last thing he sees before his eyes shut and sleep overtakes him, but as he lies on that IKEA rug, surrounded by a superspy, newly-built furniture, and loose cardboard, one thought rises unbidden to the top of his mind:

He’s home.

(for @romanogersweek)

[wizardwisenmore]

Starjack Week Day 4 - Hobbies

Hobby: Plants

Green. That was not something Wheeljack was expecting when he walked into Starscream’s habsuite to discuss some files that he had asked about and now Wheeljack can’t help staring at the crowding flora. If it were not for the numerous pots hanging and sitting around the main living space the whole suite would look barren and unlived in. There’s no decoration beyond the plants beyond a few odd trinkets here and there and all the furniture is very minimalist. Overall, it didn’t feel like Starscream’s place at all. There was no luxurious furnishings or dramatic curtains to frame the light filtering through the large windows that presented a view of the more scenic parts of the newly repaired city. It’s… nice, homey if strange which are all attributes Wheeljack never thought he’d apply to anything Starscream related but here he is, in Starscream’s suite surrounded by alien life that has been carefully tended to the point of being lush and healthy. He becomes mesmerized by a gorgeous purple flower dangling from one of the hanging pots that’s filling the air with a sweet scent like nothing he’s ever encountered before. Wheeljack notes that it’s probably one of Starscream’s favorites as many others like it but in different colors hangs around the room in far greater frequency.

Setting down the datapads, Wheeljack walks around the room, taking in all of the different plants and assessing each one with a gentle touch, careful not to bruise any of the delicate leaves. A strange burst of something flutters in Wheeljack’s spark as he sees plant after plant that’s so healthy and vibrant that he feels that painstaking effort must have been made to get them so. It’s all so lovely, he just doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Do you like them?” Starscream asks, finally joining him from the dining area with two cubes of energon and hands one to Wheeljack.

“I do,” Wheeljack nods and takes the energon without looking away from the plants, “I admit I’m at a loss. I thought you didn’t like organics.”

Starscream scoffs and takes a sip of his energon which Wheeljack has realized is one of the many ways he hides is true expressions.

“I hate the mess of the animals and the smell,” Starscream shudders then looks back to his plants and smiles, “I have found that many plants don’t have those issues. Admittedly, they can be a bit messy at times when you have to plant or prune them or when they shed their leaves but it's a much more manageable and cleaner -forgive the oxymoron- mess.”

“You really like them,” Wheeljack sets his energon down and smiles over at Starscream, “Love them even.”

Looking at Starscream now, he could really see it, the bright green leaves and vines crowding around the seeker’s frame, framing him elegantly and making his red plating stand out all the more. The smattering of flowers make him almost look delicate, especially when he takes a blush toned one in hand and runs his fingers over it gently, indulgently. At the last second, Wheeljack manages to catch himself before he gets too close, already well in Starscream’s space now without even realizing he had moved.

“I suppose,” Starscream says over to him, not looking away from his plants, “It’s all Thundercracker’s fault anyway. He said he had some kind of revelation that I wasn’t anything like what the humans call a ‘cat person’ or ‘dog person’... Said I wasn’t even more inclined to the exotic. He put a plant in my hand he’d gotten from some market on a trade station near Earth -council owned- and declared that I’m a plant person.”

Wheeljack looks around again and ponders if Thundercracker realizes what nature of monster he’s unleashed onto Cybertron now. Clearly, Starscream had not been satisfied with just the one and had set about to get more until his living space was fit to burst. He laughs a little under his breath and feels a little giddy at getting to discover a small thing about Starscream, another thing no one else knows.

“Do you still have it?” Wheeljack asks, looking around as if he’d know which one it was.

“I do,” Starscream admits quietly and walks away, expecting Wheeljack to follow him.

He winds up leading Wheeljack to his office which is filled with even more plants to an even greater density if that was even possible and stops at his desk and gestures to the little pot there. It’s small by Cybertronian standards, the leaves are a lovely dark green with little strips of yellow forming horizontally along the long leaves sitting in a round, white pot. For all the world, it’s cute. 

“You’re not much one for expressing your gratitude so what did you tell Thundercracker when you discovered your love of plants?” Wheeljack crosses his arms, watching Starscream, bemused.

Starscream keeps his optics on his little plant as he says, “I told him it died.”

Wheeljack jolts as a surprised laugh erupts from him, shaking his frame and making Starscream look at him in slight affront.

“That sounds like you,” Wheeljack smiles fondly at Starscream, “Couldn’t even give him the chance to gloat, huh?”

Starscream picks up a spray bottle and busies himself with misting some of his plants, turning determinedly from Wheeljack.

“I couldn’t let him have something so… vulnerable from me,” Starscream says the word ‘vulnerable’ like it could actively hurt him forcing an aching flare from Wheeljack’s spark.

So much has changed on Cybertron, between them since things had calmed down after the end of the war so to see Starscream sticking into old habits such as these, even with something so small, was painful to watch.

“He wasn’t trying to get something from you, you know,” Wheeljack puts a hand on his shoulder, getting Starscream to turn to look at him.

“I know,” Starscream says and the way he says it makes Wheeljack think he does, “Things are just still uneasy between us.”

“Don’t you think it was his way of smoothing a piece of it over?” Wheeljack offers.

Starscream sighs and puts the spray bottle down, “Yeah, yeah it was. I guess I just didn’t want him to be right about me.”

“You don’t want to admit he knows you better than you think he does?” Wheeljack nudges Starscream who looks at him ruefully.

“Something like that,” Starscream mutters.

Wheeljack looks back at all the plants around them and is struck with a thought.

“How do you even have time to take care of them all? Aren’t things like this high maintenance?”

“Not as much as you might think,” Starscream supplies as he idly spins one of the hanging pots, “So long as they’re getting the right amount of sun and water that’s about it. Plants are pretty good at supporting themselves and often don’t like to be messed with too much. With most of these plants I can miss a day or two and they’ll be fine.”

“So they’re like you then,” Wheeljack teases and Starscream snaps to look at him, a confused look on his face, “Just give enough attention but not too much too overwhelm and they’ll be okay, healthy, perfect, and beautiful.”

Starscream laughs almost bitterly but it’s light enough that Wheeljack pays it no mind.

“What?” Starscream asks, his tone pitched high and baffled, “Are you calling me of all people ‘perfect’ and ‘beautiful’?”

Wheeljack leans over to Starscream and brushes away some leaves that had fallen on his helm from the spinning plant.

“Maybe.”

Starscream face falls into a tense expression in one of the very rare moments of actually being taken off guard and watches Wheeljack carefully.

“I like that you can share this with me,” Wheeljack confesses, gentle as not to startle him, “It was surprising… and wonderful. You’re not anything like what everyone else expects. I like that about you. There’s always more.”

Starscream huffs a short, stilted laugh, “Stop it. I’m not… You’re walking a dangerous path here, Wheeljack.”

Wheeljack steps fully in front of Starscream, “Try me.”

Never one to back out of a challenge, Starscream pushes forward, taking both of Wheeljack’s shoulders in his hand and presses a kiss over his mask. It’s quick, light, almost shy but it’s a kiss and it’s effective in knocking Wheeljack off balance so he’s stammering. Confused but happy, he tries to find the words he wants to say as Starscream smirks at him and is still very close to him. Giving up altogether on saying anything witty that could wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his face, Wheeljack lets his mask slide away and kisses Starscream in full, tender and sweet before pulling away. Now it’s his turn to smirk with Starscream gazing at him openly, lips still parted from the kiss and Wheeljack decides that’s a good look on him, cute even. Then, Starscream seems to regain himself and -with a wicked grin- pushes Wheeljack back on his desk, still careful of the plants.

Hovering over Wheeljack, he says, “I think those files are going to have to wait a while, don’t you agree?”

“Ah,” Wheeljack stutters, “M-maybe…”

Then Starscream actually smiles sweetly at him and he knows he’s a goner and he really can’t find it in himself to mind.

[7cypher]

My Beauty, My Blood

With Namjoon out of the picture, Jeongguk has to step up and be the sole successor to the organization laid out before him. However, guilt doesn't escape him very easily, and neither does your persistence.

▸ PAIRING: Jeon Jeongguk x Reader

▸ RATING & GENRE: NC-17 ; Fluff, Angst, Mafia AU, Single Parent AU           [ ! ] Warning: Mentions of violence and sex

▸ WORD COUNT: 20,001 words

▸ A/N: I had posted this under a different user a while back and I’m finally bringing it back yay! This was one of my favorites to write and it had been written for bangtan book club’s mafia prompt. Marked as NC-17 to be safe :)

With blood-soaked hands, Jeongguk lets his gun clatter to the ground, the sound of metal against concrete barely audible with how hard his heart is beating in his chest. It thumps and pounds, thundering its demands to be released from its shackles of misery. But this chain—death—is inevitable, unfixable. A permanent carving upon his heart that has left a hollowness in its place.

Rain pours from the sky, blurring the bright city lights behind them that shine none of their guidance into the dark alley they are hidden in. Three men, two guns, one survivor. The risk comes with his line of work and, though he grows numb over the years towards the number of lives lost, plans spoiled, he supposes death is inescapable even to those he once believed as invincible.

“Guk,” the man, his partner, his other half, winces as he struggles to sit up against the wall. His shirt is soaked to the threads with rainwater mixed in with the blood that sinks into the fabric and taints his skin with a murky crimson. “Will you promise me something?”

Promises, promises. There are no guarantees. Nothing can ever be said for sure. He’s learned that the hard way. But Jeongguk does anyway.

“Take care of her,” he mutters, “don’t let her in harm’s way, don’t let anyone take her away from here. Her and Heejin, I-I can’t protect them anymore.”

Jeongguk lets his eyes slide shut as the guilt then begins to submerge into his bones, rooting itself and propagating like a virus he can never rid himself of. This is on you. This is your fault. “D-don’t say that, alright, you’ll be fine,” Jeongguk breathes, “help is coming.” The rain tastes salty in his tongue, or perhaps it is the iron taste of his blood. He can’t tell. The sky is relentless, turning as miserable as he felt at that moment, and pelts against him like bullets—bullets his friend had taken in his stead.

Namjoon laughs, bitter, hopeless. Two things Jeongguk never once could associate with him. “Let’s be real,” he grimaces again, “I’m going to die here.”

“Don’t say that,” Jeongguk hisses again, placing more pressure with his palm against the older man’s stomach. “You’re the smarter one out of the two of us—”

“And I can count my numbers, Guk,” Namjoon smiles weakly, closing his eyes to let the water roll down his features. The droplets cling onto his lashes like tears. In the darkness, Namjoon looks even younger. When he is vulnerable, which he rarely is, Jeongguk is easily reminded of how youthful the man is, how early he had gotten himself thrown into the game.

The two of them are soldiers, raised from the dirt with their fates decided from the moment they are born. They are partners, soulmates, two halves that fit together perfectly.

But death shows no mercy to those who have sinned and Jeongguk knows he is the farthest thing from a saint.

Jeongguk breathes through his nose, the sound loud enough to stop the man in front of him from stammering like a fool. The man clamps his mouth shut, a wise idea considering how unbelievably done he is dealing with such idiocy.

“Let me get this straight,” Jeongguk waves for his stupid mumbling to a stop, “you lost the shipment, said the Snakes grabbed it from you, and you’re still here. Is that your story?”

“Y-yes, sir,” the man clears his throat, “I couldn’t do nothing, t-they had a gun to my head, I had to give them everything.”

Jeongguk lets out another exasperated sigh. How many idiots, how many traitors does it take for men to understand that Jeongguk has no time to deal with such bland lies? The least they can do to entertain his time is to construct a better excuse. “Chulsoon, come here.”

“S-sir?”

“Come here, come closer, I need to speak with you.”

The man leans forward from where he kneels for mercy in front of his boss. Jeongguk clicks the safety off from his gun and presses the mouth against the man’s temple. He visibly shakes, jerking away from the cool touch of metal against his warm skin.

“Did I say you could run away, Chulsoon? Stay still,” Jeongguk repeats himself, his hand still wrapped securely around the weapon aimed directly at him.

Chulsoon inches closer carefully and, just as he does, Jeongguk pulls the trigger, the bullet grazing the shell of his ear with a loud bang. The rest of the men in the room startle as well, but none of them as shaken as Chulsoon who ducks and cries out like a man on fire, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! They gave me an amount I couldn’t refuse, fuck—I’m sorry, boss.”

And there he is.

Jeongguk laughs, disbelief coating his every word. “After you do that, you dare show yourself here in front of me?” The man gapes, opening and closing his mouth like a fish in search for salvation. “Did you think I was going to believe your story, Chulsoon? How many years do you think I’ve been in this place? How many similar stories I’ve heard before their brains splatter my father’s floors.”

It is then that Chulsoon begins to quiver, his entire body convulsing like a seizure. A pitiful sight, truly. The man has no family, no heir to continue his bloodline. It would be a shame to let such worthless, disloyal blood to stain his favorite carpet.

“Take him away and deal with him,” Jeongguk sighs, “I refuse to have him before me. Taehyung, will you do the honors?”

“Sir,” Taehyung bows, jerking his head to motion his men to take the man away.

However, Chulsoon, ever the scaramouch, opens his mouth again. “I-I guess they were right, you are a coward after all,” he snorts, rolling his eyes, “can’t even do the dirty work yourself.”

Taehyung is about to drag him away but Jeongguk halts him, instead crouching down to Chulsoon’s level. His voice is calm, steady. He pins the gun back against the man’s lips and, before the man can back away, Jeongguk grabs him by the back of his neck. The muzzle presses painfully against his lips as the leader of the gang pushes it in between, leaving the poor soul with a bullet inches away from his throat. “Chulsoon, if I had my way with you, if I had all the time in the world to deal with someone as useless as you, I would’ve slit your stomach open and gouged out all your insides. I’ll feed them to my dogs outside and leave pieces of your body to hang from the highest buildings in Korea. I’ll make sure they’ll never be able to identify you or any of your known relatives or acquaintances. It’ll be as if you never existed.”

Chulsoon’s pupils widen as he scrambles away from Jeongguk and his manic-driven eyes. Stutters of fear begin to spill from his lips but Jeongguk is no longer listening.

“Fortunately for you, I don’t have that kind of time on my hands. So you’ll have to deal with a pathetic death, perfect for your pathetic self, don’t you think so?” Jeongguk smiles, eyes darting towards Taehyung.

Chulsoon has frozen up, forcing the men to drag him by his feet without an ounce of fighting spirit left inside of him.

Truly a pity.

God, he thinks that over the years humanity has begun to lose its intelligence. What once was a race of innovative and ambitious people became a bunch of greedy, begging scoundrels who had no loyalty. He sets his gun on the table. He never liked guns, preferring blades and the satisfying slice of metal against skin rather than a quick, painless death.

Chulsoon is one of the few who have betrayed him ever since he took over the syndicate. It isn’t quite surprising really how many of them has turned against him. None of them had faith, everyone thinking that the kid from around the block who had pissed his pants over the sound of blasting guns would never succeed an empire as big as Bangtan.

But Jeongguk has been one of his father’s dogs ever since he was a mere child. He was born into this life. He never had much of a choice.

Bangtan had been built from the ground by his great grandfather, inheriting a name that suited the man who had survived a bullet straight to his chest. Many believe in the idea that his great grandfather was God’s chosen one; when his heartbeat had gone cold, everyone had prepared themselves to mourn. However, without even a touch from the defibrillator, he miraculously resurrected.

A bulletproof man selected by the gods themselves.

He pulls the door to the room open to find even more silence, welcoming the fresh breeze of Busan air. This kind of serene atmosphere is one he tolerates well.

When he glances across the area from the second floor where he stands, he can barely make out the shadows of two figures playing in the pond. High-pitched shrieks echo across the water, reaching his ears. His reflex is to turn and there he sees you and your daughter. You look joyful, at peace. It is hard not to enjoy yourself in a house as massive as his.

It is a house inherited from his father, having been renovated several times to keep it sturdy. The buildings come complete with bulletproof glass and minimalist decor. Each wing of the house is guarded by his men to ensure security and safety. Though, in all honesty, nothing much happens.

Although Bangtan dominates over a large part of South Korea’s underground economy, they are on the quieter side of the spectrum, the better side of the law. His men have been screened and controlled to ensure that they would not cause trouble and hence attract less attention to themselves, especially the cops.

The sight in his home with all its greeneries and beautiful view is a welcome contrast against the actual horrors of his occupation.

Lost in his thoughts, Jeongguk doesn’t notice you looking up. It is only when he pulls himself out of the stupor that you meet his gaze. His breath catches in his throat as he instinctively turns on his heel and into his office. There are a lot of things that Jeongguk has learned to deal with, you aren’t one of them. Years have passed since Namjoon’s death but the earth keeps turning, days move in a flurry of meetings and organized crimes.

Jeongguk feels as if he is stuck in the past while others have moved on—Namjoon always niggling somewhere in the back of his mind. It certainly does not help when you are there as well, always hovering and reminding him that Namjoon had left behind two pieces of himself. Jeongguk still has not gotten around the nerve to speak to you, to properly acknowledge your presence—once a coward, always a coward.

A knock on his door brings him back to present day. “Come in,” he calls.

Taehyung peeks inside, brown hair falling into his eyes, “Guk, the little bird wants to speak with you.”

Jeongguk throws him a withering look. He has spoken to Taehyung about this before. If you ever needed anything, you can speak to Taehyung, his right hand man. So far, he has avoided any incidences of having to interact with you so he wonders what calls for his attention this time.

“Send her in.”

You step in, dress swaying around your legs. He hasn’t seen you properly in quite some time and it shows when you take his breath away. He sometimes forgets how beautiful you are, how your looks had enchanted both him and Namjoon though Namjoon was more of the charmer between the two of them.

He greets curtly, your name almost reluctantly rolling off his tongue.

“Jeongguk, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” you smile softly at him, taking a seat on the chair in front of his desk. If it were any of his men, he would’ve scolded them for being disrespectful. That is, if any of them even dared to take a seat in front of him.

“It has, what can I do for you?”

You worry your bottom lip before starting, “I was wondering if I could go grocery shopping.”

Jeongguk has never been more puzzled in his entire life. “Grocery shopping,” he repeats dumbly.

“I know you’d rather that I don’t leave the house but it’s been years and—I mean—I can do that on my own, I’d like to be able to go there directly.”

Your explanation only leaves him with more questions. He didn’t quite understand your request so instead his eyes wander to Taehyung for help. The man just smiles and shrugs. What the fuck? “Grocery shopping,” he says again.

At this point, he probably sounds like an idiot incapable of understanding basic sentences. “Yes, grocery shopping,” you repeat, tilting your head. There is a shake to your shoulder and he guesses that you’re probably suppressing your laughter.

“I can send any of the maids to go, did you need something specific?”

“I, uh,” you lick your lips, “no, I want to take a look at what they have for myself.”

Jeongguk looks at Taehyung again. “It might be nice to get some fresh air,” the other man adds, “the supermarket’s not that crowded during this time considering it’s weekday working hours.”

“I suppose so,” Jeongguk drawls, “Taehyung can accompany you, bring another man if you have to.”  

“Of course,” Taehyung smiles, nodding a little and then turns to you, “Little bird, would you mind leaving me alone with Jeongguk for a quick second? I have business to discuss. You can go ahead and wait in the car, I already asked the driver to start it.”

You nod, “Thanks, Jeongguk.” It is the first time you’ve said his name in a long time and the effect is almost immediate as his stomach churns with something both pleasant and unpleasant. With that, you duck out of the room, leaving Taehyung alone with him.

“Don’t you think you’re being rather cold? And, I don’t know, suffocating,” are the first words Taehyung say to him as if he hadn’t just murdered a man cold blood. Taehyung relaxes his shoulders when it is only the two of them—a conversation between old friends rather than colleagues.

“It’s for safety, I don’t see why—”

“There is nothing out there for her, Guk. Give her some breathing room, give yourself some breathing room,” Taehyung insists, his tone sterner, “she’s still so young, nobody really knows of her so it shouldn’t be a problem. Go with her, get to know her. It’s been years and you’ve barely spoken two words to her.”

“For good reason,” Jeongguk mutters, righting a piece of paper on his table as an attempt to draw his attention away from Taehyung’s accurate accusations.

“And what is that? Your cowardice perhaps? The fact that you still can’t face her after years?”

Jeongguk shoots him a warning look. Careful there. Taehyung sighs, stepping back a little. “She’s only one of my many responsibilities, Tae. I’m a busy man.”

“Busy wallowing in your self-created despair,” his friend mutters with a roll of his eyes that has Jeongguk’s finger twitching. “She’s not a chore, Jeongguk. She’s a human being just like you and me.”

He takes a deep breath to calm himself, “Why are you suddenly pressing for this?”

“Because she has never asked for anything before. She’s so low-maintenance, always cooking for herself and her daughter, never requesting more than the bare minimum. You would know this if you even gave her a second of your time,” Taehyung continues, piling on the guilt that is already brewing in his gut. Jeongguk does not find the words to respond and hence chooses to remain silent. He knows he hasn’t been the best of hosts towards you, but he cannot change how he feels whenever he is near you. You are a tangible flashback to a time of what could’ve been with Namjoon.

“So you want me to talk to her?”

“There’s no harm in it. Plus, you’re a better bodyguard than most of the men here, you’ll protect her just fine.”

When Jeongguk opens the car door and slides in, he finds you sitting there with Heejin on your lap, twiddling with your thumbs. Meanwhile, Heejin is singing out vegetable names like a prayer. His driver is watching the two in amusement but his smile slides off his face when his boss steps in. He ducks his head politely as Jeongguk closes the car door.

He sees how you tense up the moment he steps into the car, how your gaze darts over to Taehyung for a brief second for comfort or answers. When no one breaks the silence, Heejin has no problem in doing so.

“Who are you?”

The question is unsurprising but it does not make it hurt any less. Jeongguk drinks in the child’s features. She is a near perfect replica of Namjoon, down to her dimples that are deeper than the Pacific. He aches just looking at her. Clearing his throat, he holds out his hand, “I’m Jeongguk.”

Heejin stares at the hand warily before she turns to her mother as if seeking permission. When you give a small nod, Heejin accepts the handshake and grins, “I’m Heejin.”

Never in his life has Jeongguk sat stiffer than he is doing then, back straight, palms sweaty on his legs. His posture is painfully awkward that even Taehyung takes notice and snorts up front. “Heejin,” Taehyung starts, drawing Heejin’s attention to him, “this man is weird, isn’t he?”

Heejin turns back to Jeongguk, blinking, but says nothing.

“He’s a little tense,” Taehyung cautions, “but he’s actually really nice, you should ask him lots of questions, especially about guns.”

“Tae!” you and Jeongguk chide at the same time. The two of you turn to each other in mild surprise but are quickly distracted when Heejin leans over towards Jeongguk with the wildest, star-filled eyes.

“Really? You can tell me about guns?”

“Heejin,” you chastise this time, “that’s inappropriate. You should ask him normal things first, like his favorite food or his favorite movie.”

At that moment, Jeongguk probably would’ve preferred an interrogation about guns, which he is knowledgeable about, rather than mundane topics he probably has to wrack his brain to answer. When is the last time he watched a movie?

“But that’s boring,” Heejin pouted shamelessly, “are you good with guns?”

You release a groan at the impossibility of your child but Jeongguk just smiles. The little girl is too much like Namjoon, always so brazenly curious. “I am, but I’m better with cameras.” That’s a smooth diversion, right? Taehyung hums approvingly to answer his unsaid question.

“Oh, really? Do you have those big cameras? The ones for movies?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk coughs, “I can let you see it if you behave for your mom until we get back.”

“I can do that, I can behave,” Heejin cheers then whips around to face you. “Did you hear the man, mommy? He’s going to show me a fancy camera.”

In honesty, Jeongguk hasn’t touched in camera in years—a forgotten hobby thrown aside when his father began grooming him to become heir to the organization. He supposes he would be rusty but he will know just enough to impress a child like her.

When they arrive at the store, Heejin is first to leap out the door and run screaming for the trolleys. You chase after her in worry while Jeongguk and Taehyung trail behind.

“Wait for my call,” Jeongguk instructs as he steps out of the car. Taehyung follows suit but keeps his gaze locked at the two of you. Jeongguk’s eyes unconsciously scan the area, a habit he picked up a long time ago under his father's warning.

“What do you think of her?” Taehyung asks, peering too closely as if his intention is to pry into Jeongguk’s soul.

He merely shrugs, “I don't know enough to have a lasting impression.”

“First impressions count.”

“She's beautiful, I can see why Namjoon was attracted to her.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “How shallow of you. What about Heejin?”

He inhales sharply, focusing on the child walking hand in hand with her mother. The child is intelligent and full of questions that can even leave the best and brightest bewildered. She looks carefree at that moment, void of any worries as she holds onto you. “Namjoon, she's so much like Namjoon.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung nodded, huffing in affirmation, “I see so much of hyung in her it’s kind of terrifying. She's a smart kid too, picks things up fast so be careful about cursing around her.”

“I really could be dealing with that lost shipment right now,” Jeongguk mutters in annoyance under his breath. He has things to do and people to deal with. Yet, here is Taehyung making him play house.

Taehyung shakes his head disapprovingly, “Please. I already sent a few men to track down the people who propositioned Chulsoon. Low-ranking kids probably trying to climb their way to the top so we’ll catch them in no time.”

Jeongguk nods thankfully but looks far from appeased.

When the four of them enter, they almost look out of place. A woman with a child and two men dressed neatly in suits, wearing matching intimidating expressions. You turn to them and frown, “Can you guys stop glaring at everything? It's weirding people out.”

Jeongguk nearly snaps that it doesn't matter if it's strange as long as they stay safe. But he holds back and only grunts.

“Mom, can I look at the toys?” Heejin tugs on the hem of your dress.

“Let's look at the food first yeah, darling? We’ll look at the toys after.” You try to pacify your utterly spoiled daughter who sticks her bottom lip out in return. “Heejin,” you warn.

“I can take her to see the toys, Jeongguk can accompany you. How about that?” Taehyung suggests, earning a squeal from Heejin who instantly curls around his leg.

Jeongguk gives Taehyung a look nothing short of incredulity. How can he possibly leave him alone with you? This is his first proper introduction. What if he messes up? You clear your throat next to him and draw him out of the plaguing worries. “If it’s okay with you, do you mind helping me shop?”

Does he have a choice really? He is tasked with trolley duty, following after you. You scan the refrigerated shelves, eyes sparkling in excitement as you take in the plethora of colors before your eyes. Jeongguk wonders what the big deal is with going shopping on your own, but you’re already humming to yourself as you begin to pluck things off the racks and placing them in the basket.

“Are you sure this is everything you need?” Jeongguk mutters to break the silence for the first time since they started. The cart is barely filled with very few choices of vegetables and fruits.

You turn slightly pink with his words. “I don’t think I need that much. We can make do with this.”

Never more than the bare minimum. Remorse filters into his veins as he looks at you. He wonders how welcome he has made you feel in his household these past few years. His past lovers—serious enough to use his money, distant enough to keep them out of his home—had had no trouble swiping his cards whenever they pleased. It’s sort of unnerving to have you be so reserved around him.

“Please, help yourself. I hear you often cook so I’m sure you would need more than these to test out new recipes,” Jeongguk says and observes the way your face brightens with pleasant delight. “You’re not a guest in my home anymore. You live there, so please don’t hesitate to take advantage of the resources.”

Your lips thin as you glance towards the food. “Thank you for your offer, but it is still your wealth and I can’t touch it so carelessly. I appreciate it though, really.”

“I really don’t mind it,” Jeongguk insists again, “I have more money than I can ever hope to spend in my entire lifetime, so if my wealth can help you in any way at all, I am happy to be able to care for you and Heejin.”

“You’re too kind, Jeongguk,” you give him a smile that has his guts turning. You really are beautiful. “You should let me cook for you once in a while, I think Heejin would love some extra company too aside from the maids. The men are terrified of her.” The invitation leaves a warm effect in his heart, but he decides to direct his attention to the latter part of your sentence.

He raises an eyebrow, “Are they now?”

You giggle, the sound ringing like angels’ hymns from the heavens. “They try to interact with her but she’s more curious about their weapons and they always hesitate because she asks too many questions. I’ve been trying to get her to ask more… appropriate conversation topics.”

“Sounds like a charmer your daughter,” Jeongguk chuckles.

“Too much of a smart aleck.”

The two of you continue to walk down the aisles, this time in much more comfortable silence. You’re less shy when you find items you are curious about, albeit you still glance at him as if to attain permission. You break the ice with questions about meals that he would like to try, anything he’s interested in, and he smoothly responds to your inquiries as if you both have been friends for years.

It is admittedly easy to speak to you and the atmosphere strangely domestic as he follows after you and chases after your shadow as you grow more eager with every turn. Doing something so normal after so long in the business feels unnatural, but Jeongguk finds himself basking in the air nonetheless.

By the end of what Heejin referred to as an “adventure down toy world,” they end up with plenty of groceries to last them for a while, Heejin happily cuddling her new bunny that she so aptly named Jeongguk, and a promise for dinner.

“I have to get back to work, I have someone to meet after this, but it has been nice meeting you,” Jeongguk smiles honestly.

“You too,” you simper in return as Heejin hugs your leg, “don’t be the stranger okay. This house is pretty big, it gets a little lonely.” Your statement seems to surprise the both of you, and Taehyung who is watching the interaction too closely, so you blush. “W-what I mean to say is that you’re pretty cool to be around and you have to keep that promise for dinner sometime. I’ll cook a meal so good you’ll be coming back for more.”

Jeongguk laughs wholeheartedly with your guarantee, which shocks the fuck out of Taehyung and the driver (who apparently is still standing there listening to them). “I will, I’ll ensure to make some time for you both this week so I hope to see you again soon.”

“Okay,” you nod, grinning. Heejin calls for you, announcing that she is hungry, so you look apologetically at the two of them. “Sorry, I have to go but thank you again for today. It’s been really fun. I’ll leave leftovers in the kitchen later if you both want to try the pasta I’m making tonight.”

Heejin bounces towards Jeongguk and bows, “Thank you for today! I’ll see you soon okay? You promised me to show me your fancy camera.”

“I did promise that,” Jeongguk stoops to her level.

“Pinky promise?” Heejin sticks out her finger.

Jeongguk chuckles and curls his own around hers, “Pinky promise. Be good for your mom okay.”

The little girl nods eagerly before trotting away with you to head straight for the kitchen. Jeongguk doesn’t realize then but the aching of his jaw roots from the shit-eating grin he has on his face, one that scares Taehyung.

“You’re way too happy,” Taehyung snorts.

“I’m not,” Jeongguk returns his scowl, “don’t we have a meeting to attend?”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

In the following weeks, Jeongguk finds himself slipping you and Heejin into the empty spaces within his schedule. Whenever his day ends early, he would go to the kitchen and watch you make dinner in complete fascination. Jeongguk has been surviving on takeout and junk food for so long, eschewing the dining room in fear of running into you but also because he barely has time to sit down and eat. Now, he has assigned himself as your Official Food Tester whenever you experiment with new recipes.

After the perpetrators working with Chulsoon were caught, his life returns to its normal routine: making deals, bribing officers, running clubs. The usual deal. Things are relatively slower as he just needs to maintain connections and keep up appearances.

However, instead of anticipating new customers and branching out his influence, he rather looks forward to quiet dinners with you and Heejin—as quiet as dinners with Heejin can get. The little miss rambles on about her tutors, about the fishes in the pond (“one of them just had babies!” — that Jeongguk didn’t know), and also about the camera Jeongguk finally handed over to her.

Heejin had gone starry-eyed when she saw the camera, falling head over heels for it. Jeongguk didn’t hesitate to give it to her to put it to better use. Namjoon used it more than he did after all, it only feels right to pass it to his successor.

( Jeongguk says that talking to the two of you is just one of his many ways of stifling boredom, but Taehyung calls bullshit )

The maids in the house and his men have also somehow gotten friendlier—too friendly if you ask Jeongguk. They are the first to giggle whenever Jeongguk’s face contorts at one of your dishes and he has to pretend as if he doesn’t want to gag. They are the first to go wide-eyed whenever Jeongguk shows Heejin and you some impressive tricks he can do.

They are pure, the only untainted part of his life at that moment, and he wants to keep it that way. This is why he usually still secludes himself off on days he has meetings with clients and suppliers, whenever he has to pull the trigger or put a knife through some poor sucker’s heart. Heejin has an inkling of a clue, but you hide it well enough behind your wary smiles whenever Jeongguk meets the both of you afterwards.

He should’ve known though that his right hand man would dip his hand into puddles he is not meant to touch. Taehyung’s current suggestion surprises the living daylights out of him and has you stiffening on the couch.

“The beach?” you ask.

“Yes, the beach,” Taehyung affirms, ignoring the way Jeongguk is frowning at him. Jeongguk understands that his friend wants him to get to know you more, to get along with you, but this might just cross the line. “It’s been a while I figure since you’ve been there, thought you and Heejin would like the field trip.”

“Field trip my fucking ass,” Jeongguk mutters under his breath only low enough for Taehyung to hear.

Taehyung pitches a glare his way and then returns his gaze back to you. “We’re checking on a shipment that’s coming in and also doing our monthly survey of the port. Jeongguk has a house by the beach, far enough away from the docks but with a good view and private beach.”

You still look doubtful with his words, your teeth catching your lip in worry. “I don’t know, it might not be safe for Heejin,” you argue.

“You and Heejin will be far from where we will be doing business, one of the men can stay with you though you can expect nothing threatening there. It’s a quiet neighborhood and you and Heejin can enjoy yourselves for the weekend,” Taehyung adds on, hoping that it would reassure you.

Jeongguk isn’t quite sure honestly why Taehyung decided that it would be a brilliant idea to invite you when they are on the job, knows that it probably will be catastrophic if anything goes wrong. However, the image of Heejin lighting up just a few days ago after seeing the picture Namjoon and Jeongguk had taken in that same house might be a reason enough for Taehyung to defy him.

You breathe out, turning to Jeongguk, “What do you think, Guk? Is it safe enough?”

Jeongguk looks slightly taken aback by your question but clears his throat. “Yeah, it’s a safe area and we can always bring extra hands to keep you both secure. Waters are nice too, good weather forecasted for the rest of the week.”

“So, what do you think?” Taehyung presses again.

“I guess it won’t hurt,” you shrug, “Heejin has never been so it might be nice.”

Taehyung grins, eyes crinkling around the corners, “Great. I’m sure Jeongguk will do his best to ensure you are safe and sound.”

The look he gives Taehyung shows all of the doubts he has about his masterplan, but he sighs.  “I’ll make the arrangements and have one of the maids come along to assist you. I’ll install more security cameras before we arrive as well.”

Your eyes widen at his ideas and you quickly shake your head. “God, you really don’t have to go through all that trouble. We’ll be fine, we’ll spend most of our time in the beach or in the house so there’s no need for it.”

“It’s just a precaution,” Jeongguk tuts, “do you need to do some shopping beforehand? Swimsuits and all? Groceries?”

“Ah, yes. I haven’t shopped in a while and Heejin doesn’t have any swimsuits.”

“My schedule is free the rest of the day—”

“Actually,” Taehyung interrupts, “you have a meeting with Taeho later regarding ship licenses.”

Jeongguk curses under his breath, “Fuck, I forgot about that. My apologies then, I’m afraid I can’t accompany you today. However, you can take two of my men and a driver to go if you’d like.”

“I-I can wait,” you clear your throat, “I can wait until tomorrow.” The pretty blush that graces your cheeks is a welcome color that has Jeongguk’s lips twitching. Your shyness around him is still adorable and he can’t help but allow his hope to wander that maybe, just maybe, you want to spend more time with him.

“Tomorrow then,” he confirms softly.

Jeongguk keeps his promise and makes time to go to the department store with you and Heejin. Picture this: a mob boss walks into a plush store, chandelier hanging on the ceiling and all, with a screaming child and a mother who is ten out of ten done with the entire thing.

Taehyung is always close by, ensuring that Heejin doesn’t touch anything she isn’t supposed to and teaching her how to behave appropriately. In other words, no shrieking over perfumes that smell amazing (Jeongguk still buys her three bottles). They spend too much time in the children’s section and Heejin spoils herself with attention and an array of swimsuit choices, too many for her to handle.

“Do you want all of them, Heejin?” Jeongguk asks from his seat next to you. You had given up and groaned in frustration an hour ago when Jeongguk insisted he could afford it.

Heejin thinks it over for a second, glance darting over to her mother before coming back to Jeongguk. “No, I just want two. I don’t want to buy more than I need.” She looks proud of her statement and turns to you again for approval and you hide your smile.

“I want to spoil her rotten but you somehow manage to get in my way each time,” Jeongguk shakes his head. “Alright, baby, pick two.”

The term of endearment seems to stop the entire store. To the clerks working there, you and Jeongguk probably look like the sweetest, most doting parents. To the rest of you who know your relationship, it comes off as an electrifying shock. Jeongguk feels you stiffen next to him—hell, he feels himself tense and clamp his mouth shut. Taehyung blinks at the two of you in surprise but says nothing.

But Heejin—Heejin softens.

“Okay,” she replies gently and goes to choose her favorites.

Both of you come to a silent agreement not to address Jeongguk’s sweet nickname for Heejin, preferring to pretend as if nothing of the sort ever happened in the first place.

“Mommy,” Heejin calls, “are you going to buy swimming clothes?”

“I–ah—I don’t need new ones, I have some still at home.”

“Nonsense,” Taehyung chides this time, “come on, treat yourself a little. It’ll be nice to be by the beach, show off that cute booty of yours.”

“Taehyung,” Jeongguk scowls with his words.

He shoots him a look, “You know it’s true. Tell her.”

His boss takes a deep breath and turns to you, “We can go, you know. I don’t mind. Take a look new designs to replace your old ones. Like Taehyung said, treat yourself.”

“Tae-oppa and I can look at toys while you shop,” Heejin grins cheekily. So that is her intention. You know full well that Taehyung loves to pamper Heejin and can’t say no to the little devil so she adores going toy hunting with him.

“Perfect, look at the time, we should get going,” Taehyung hurries, picking Heejin up after she decides on her swimsuits. “Text us when you’re done!”

Thus is your fate as you end up trapped in a dressing room, unwilling to come out to “show your husband how gorgeous you look, darling.” Jeongguk reddens and clears his throat, opting out of clarifying the statement as it will only raise more questions. He hears you stumble behind the curtains with the employee’s words, but peek your head out, “I-I’m good, I think I’ve decided.”

“Already?” Jeongguk questions in surprise, “Heejin took three hours and you took five minutes.”

“I’m not that picky,” you huff, “plus it’s a struggle to keep switching between swimsuits.”

“Do you need me to help?”

The offer is supposed to be innocent, harmless, a kind gesture. But the flush that spreads all the way to the tips of your ears has him realizing that his intentions may not have been so clear. “It’s o-okay, I’m good.”

“Try on some more please,” he coughs, “we have plenty of time. You can decide which models you like.”

“Fine,” you bite your bottom lip. The employee shoves more and more swimsuits into the room for you to try on but Jeongguk, much to his quiet disappointment, doesn’t see you in a single one. You finish a little while later, bringing an armful of clothing only to hold up one. “This one. I’m good with this one.”

“Just one?”

“I really don’t need a lot, Jeongguk,” you sigh, setting the others aside. “I’m not used to all this… pampering. It makes me feel weird so I’ll take one for now.”

For now. That Jeongguk can deal with. He understands your sentiment and decides to press no further… for now.

That weekend, the lot of them pile into Jeongguk’s SUV, one of his many cars complete with bulletproof glass. They ride out towards the bay, a car ahead of them and a car behind for extra security. Jeongguk sits next to a restless Heejin who sings The Little Mermaid songs as she gapes at the view outside the window. Of course, the fact that Jeongguk is out for work is something he leaves out when he had told Heejin about the trip.

“You and dad lived there?”

“No,” he smiles, “but we do have a house there whenever we want to go to the beach.”

“Did dad like the beach?”

Her question is innocent, but it brings about a rush of memories, a series of images flipping through his mind. Namjoon had loved the beach, loved the sea. He always told Jeongguk about bringing his family there to appreciate the natural beauty outside of the construction of the city. Jeongguk only hopes that Namjoon is watching over them now.

“Your dad loved it,” he says and he is graced by the blinding smile on her face.

They arrive shortly after that Friday, Heejin rushing into the house with her tiny legs and heading straight for the window to press her face against it. The waves crash against the shore, melding in the blue sea against the white sand. “Mom! It's the sea, it's so blue like the storybooks!”

“It is, honey,” you confirm, “don't run around the house.”

“Can I go see?”

“Heejin, take your bag first and bring it to your room, yeah? We don't want Jeongguk-oppa to be mad do we?”

Heejin pouts but does as she's told, picking up her small backpack and upstairs. Jeongguk doesn't miss the word oppa slipping past your lips and he's ashamed to see how quickly he reacts to it. Lord, he's acting like a child.

“Jeongguk-oppa,” Taehyung blows in his ear. Jeongguk catches his neck and glares, Taehyung only laughs, unfazed.

After settling in, Heejin runs straight for the sea, only to run screeching back further inshore when the waves chase after her. You follow her and shake your head, “Be careful okay.”

“I wanna see fishies,” Heejin grins and tugs your hand to move cautiously towards the blue ocean.

Jeongguk stays behind and watches them from the porch of the house, sipping on a cup of coffee across from Taehyung who lights a cigarette.

“Namjoon would've loved to see this,” Jeongguk begins, “he always talked about raising a family by the sea, I always thought he just had a thing for mermaids and bikinis but that guy was too sentimental.”

Taehyung laughs, tapping a bit of ash onto the tray, “He's nothing like you, playboy. Though, he had a good number of women. He changed when he met her though, started using his head more.”

“Speak for yourself, he used his dick a lot considering how many times I've heard things I really didn't want to hear from his room,” Jeongguk mutters and Taehyung blanches.

“Did not need to know that about my brother,” he grimaces, giving a little shiver for emphasis. He sighs then, “He would've thanked you, for taking them here that is.”

“He's probably enjoying paradise somewhere out there, watching them.”

“We’ll join him eventually.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, sucking in a deep breath, letting the nicotine stick to his lungs, “You think so? Think God will open his golden gates for me? You think angels will take a man sworn to singledom? Wait, do you think they have sex up there?”

“You're fucking gross,” Jeongguk scowls, “I think God might just accept you just to fling you from the clouds.”

“That is, if there is a God,” his friend smiles devilishly.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, “I'd like to believe Namjoon is somewhere better.”

“Taehyung-oppa, Jeongguk-oppa!” Heejin comes running up the small hill and the stairs leading to their house. “Look! Mommy found all of these for me,” she holds up a pile of seashells for them to see.

“They're pretty, Heejin, just like you,” Taehyung coos, pinching her cheek.

“Are you guys coming down to play?”

“In a minute, baby,” Jeongguk says softly as he fixes her messy hair, brushing away her bangs. He likes the way Heejin’s expression melts into a dreamy one when he calls her that. “Make sure your mom doesn't get swept away by the waves,” he warns.

She nods before dashing back for her mother.

“If I didn't know better, you're getting soft for the girl,” Taehyung teases, waving his cigarette in the air.

“How can you not like her?”

“You missed out on a few years of that, my friend.”

Jeongguk chances a glance their way again and nods solemnly, “Could’ve seen her growing up.”

“Well, you've got the rest of your life to make up for that.”

It's probably time to redirect the conversation before it treads into dangerous waters, namely feelings—emotions Jeongguk could surely go without talking about.

“How's everything looking for the shipment?”

“Good, China has their share on the way along with labor. Australia is done with the cap up and are using body packers, should be coming in easy.”

“Keep me updated if anything happens,” Jeongguk instructs, ignoring the way the cigarette smell is starting to affect him.

Taehyung grins maliciously, killing off the fire on his stick. “Forgot you quit a year ago.”

“I can't die before the next one comes along,” he snorts, “as much as I want to. My great grandfather is rolling in his grave.”

“He was cremated.”

“It’s a figure of speech, you dipshit.”

The night passes quickly. While you soothe Heejin to sleep in the second floor, Jeongguk and his men leave for the port a short distance away to check on the area. He tries not to worry too much about leaving only Taehyung with the two of you, or the regret that surges through his veins for mixing pleasure with business.

Hushed whispers serve as an alarm the next morning, waking you up in the early hours when the sun has barely risen over the horizon. You quietly leave Heejin to continue her slumber as you tiptoe downstairs to find Jeongguk typing away on his laptop.

Taehyung stands across the counter, hand wrapped around a warm mug of steaming coffee. “You're up early,” Taehyung notes. Jeongguk turns around and looks equally surprised as he bids you good morning.

“You guys look like you haven't slept,” you say, amused. They are still dressed in clothes from the previous day, their hairs neat, and their eyes heavy with caffeine.

“Bingo,” Taehyung grins, “our dear friend, Jeongguk, here had the incredible idea of staying awake to work on numbers. Numbers, can you fucking believe? I want to rip his head off.”

You cock an eyebrow at said man, “Really? Why do you hate yourself that much?”

“I live with my eternal, internal self-loathing,” Jeongguk deadpans, “also chronic insomnia.”

Shaking your head, you peer over his shoulder to take a look. “Annual reports? You act as if you run a legitimate business.”

He scoffs to your claim, “I do run a legitimate business with a side of illicit activities, but mostly legitimate.”

“Good to know, do you need some help?”

“Ah, I'm okay.”

You smirk, flicking his nose, “You know, it's not going to kill you to ask for help if you need it.”

“It's dangerous to get you involved.”

“Look, when Namjoon invited me to join him, I knew what I was signing myself up for. Now, scoot, let me put my brain to good use,” you shoo Jeongguk away from his seat and take over, scrolling through the spreadsheets at record speed. Taehyung and his boss share a look, both puzzled and impressed by your determination. “Are you just trying to balance everything? There are some discrepancies here with hidden costs and your exclusion of transport costs. You might also want to give breathing room for the taxes because they’ve been stricter. Make sure your numbers are correct or the tax office will come after you.”

Jeongguk shoots Taehyung a stare of absolute bewilderment before turning back to you. “Uh, yeah.” He spends the rest of the morning going over the numbers with you again, finding your advice insightful, especially to evade those blasted tax officers.

“How do you know so much about this?” Taehyung asks, leaning his elbows down on the counter.

You grin, “You forget that Namjoon recruited me first to handle your books. I know the basic rundown but he never let me see anything else.”

“I think it’s time to get you to join the club again,” Taehyung smirks, “Jeongguk here might be a fantastic leader, but he’s crap at math.”

“I am not that bad,” he scowls.

“I can help whenever you need it, no compensation needed of course considering I’ve been living in your house for nothing.”

Jeongguk purses his lips at your words, “You’re no longer a guest in our home, I’ve told you this. You’re one of us.”

“Let’s be honest, the only reason I’m still around is because you feel like you have a debt to Namjoon that hasn’t been paid.” Offering a sympathetic look, you shrug.

Your words leave the two men speechless, unsure of the next step to progress in the conversation. Luckily for all three of them, Heejin is kind enough to interrupt the heavy silence with a cheerful “Good morning!”

With Jeongguk busying himself with work, checking on the shipment area and regulating his men, he barely has time to spare before he takes off that same morning, leaving behind a pouting Heejin who looks far from pleased with his departure.

“Do you really have to go?” she asks. Heejin is ready with her colorful, floral swimsuit and arms stuffed safely into her floaties. However, the threatening frown on her face is dampened considerably into a cuter expression.

“Yes, I do,” he says, fixing his tie and ruffling her hair.

She sighs before pressing again, “Like really, really have to go?”

Jeongguk laughs, crouching down so he can level his gaze to hers. “Yes, baby, I do. But I'll be back before dinner, that's a promise.”

“Okay, if you say so,” she gifts him a small smile with glittering eyes.

“Make sure to put on sunblock and listen to your mommy okay,” he advises again, holding up his pinky to swear on his word. He learns after the few times that the only vows that count with Heejin are those he pinky promises.

She nods, “Mhm! I'll be good.”

“Okay, see you later,” Jeongguk stands, facing you then. “Will you be okay?” His voice is softer, careful.

“It's just the beach, Jeon,” you laugh, “the scariest thing out there is an awful sunburn.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” he breathes. His first instinct is to pull you close and press a kiss onto your forehead but he realizes and stops himself before he can do anything that might jeopardize what small relationship you both have.

Jeongguk watches you and Heejin wave goodbye from the rearview mirror, finding an odd stinging in his heart at the sight. Disregarding it, he sighs and skims through what paperwork he has today. Taehyung eyes him from the same mirror, a small knowing smile on his lips.

When they return hours later, after rounds of scolding from Jeongguk’s side to his careless men and a sweep of the entirety of his private dock, Jeongguk is drained, ready to knock out from the lack of sleep.

The quiet house now feels almost foreign to him, his expectation to hear childish screams echoes in his ears. For a moment, his heart stops at the emptiness of the house. It is almost as if he has returned to the past, to being cold and alone. However, his needless worries are shaken away when he hears distant giggles from outside the place.

He steps out onto the porch, having changed into a pair of board shorts and tee shirt. The sun has begun to set behind the sea, star sinking into the blue abyss and reflecting its crimson glow upon the piling waves. The two figures are silhouetted against the background, creating a picture so beguiling Van Gogh would be jealous.

“You made it!” Heejin’s scream reaches his ears as he walks down the beach, feet plunging into the smooth sand with every step.

“I told you I would,” he smiles, patting her head, “did you have fun today?”

“Yes!” she giggles, pointing to the line of castles and the fortress that surrounds it on the ground. “We made sandcastles and went swimming. I can float better now but I’m still learning how to swim properly.”

He laughs, “Good job, baby. I’m sure you did great.”

“Are you going to swim?” Heejin wrinkles her nose adorably and tugs on the hem of his shirt. “You might want to take this off otherwise it’s going to get wet.”

“Noted,” he says and, with a satisfied noise, she runs back into the sea to continue collecting seashells for her collection.

It is then that he spots you, realizes how striking you look in a little black one piece, the straps going behind your neck, your breasts pushed together by the cupped top half of the swimsuit. He can see your smooth skin of your sides from the transparent lace that makes the rest of the swimsuit. While Jeongguk has seen a fair share of women in all sorts of swimsuits, no one has captivated him the way you have.

“Welcome back,” you murmur, ever so softly. The sentiment leaves a tingling warmth in his heart, a novel feeling that tickles his icy soul.

“Glad to be back,” Jeongguk whispers. He takes in the breathtaking view before him, his mind spinning back to the time Namjoon and him had travelled here together. Nostalgia ripples in the pits of his stomach, bringing a new bout of melancholy that fills him up.  

You stand next to him, skin warm with the sun’s kiss on your skin. “You know,” you begin, “Namjoon always told me that he wanted to live by the sea. That man could appreciate natural beauty like no other. I guess Heejin takes after her father; she hasn’t stepped foot off this beach since this morning.”

He chuckles, nodding as he observed Heejin jumping and splashing water, carrying a tune in the wind that rings unfamiliar in his ears. “Yeah, he always wanted to work with the port shipments. It drove me crazy how much time he would kill out here, just sitting by the beach doing absolutely nothing.”

“His silences,” you agree, “it used to irritate me so much how quiet he could be. He could sit quietly in a room for hours, reading, listening to music, not saying a single thing. God, how I craved his attention on me.”

“His library is massive, I can’t bring myself to donate or toss out anything. There were books he hasn’t read yet, just sitting there collecting dust. I keep telling myself I’ll read it eventually, but his literary skills are beyond my level of comprehension.”

Jeongguk chuckles at the memory. Whenever Namjoon disappeared from sight, forgetting to do his duties for the day, the first place anyone would search in would be his library. They would always find him there, so enraptured by a book that the rest of the universe seemed to cease to exist.

“Don’t remind me, he used to try to get me to read English classics and I would cry just so he would let me go,” you groan.

“Stubborn one that one, I thought I was bad.”

Silence dawns upon them once again, the only sounds that surround them are the caw of seagulls in the distance and the rumbling of waves crashing against the sand. The air is salty and sticky, clinging humidity onto his skin. It feels comfortably warm and Namjoon’s memory seeps slowly into his bones.

You take a deep breath. “I don’t get to talk about him much anymore.” At this, Jeongguk turns to look at you in surprise. “Nobody really wants to talk about it. Sometimes I can’t believe he’s gone. It’s been years and—” you pause “—yet it’s still so hard.”

Jeongguk breathes, nodding slowly. The feeling is familiar—that sort of quiet void that he chooses to actively ignore in place of people’s comfort. Namjoon is never an easy topic, for him or his men. Sometimes the past is best left in the past, but misery loves company and Jeongguk seems to have found it in you. “He’s been gone for so long but it feels like he’s always around. I see him everywhere, sometimes I think I’m going crazy.”

“But then,” you sigh, chewing your bottom lip, “not talking about him—it’s like he’s a stranger that never existed. I don’t—I have so many regrets, things I wish I told him but never got the chance to.”

“I feel you on that. So much shit I could’ve just said, so many things I hoped for him to do.”

“Jeongguk,” you start, voice giving away your anxiety, “w-would it be okay if I talked about him with you? I-I know it’s hard, that’s why a lot of people would rather act as if he never was around in the first place. Tell me if it gets too much, but I just—I feel like, if I don’t talk about him, he’s going to disappear for good.”

“Y-yeah, of course,” he clears his throat. He may or may not have been thinking of the exact same request that you brought up, so he is more grateful than anything that you did. “It’s probably therapeutic anyway. We were both closest to him, let’s keep his memory alive.”

You tip your head up, offering him the sweetest smile that had his heart aching. Jeongguk sneds a prayer to the heavens, perhaps asking God or Namjoon whether it is okay for him to let himself fall for you.

“Thank you.”

The weather is strangely pleasant for a day that sweeps sorrow across the household. It is always in the last days of summer that rain continues to pour, silver clouds concealing bright blue skies. However, this year, the heavens have blessed them with clear skies.

Gravel crunches beneath the roll of the car’s tires. Heejin, for once, sits quietly as she stares out the window. You are by her side, equally as silent as you lose yourself in your own thoughts. Jeongguk tries to distract himself by replying to messages on his phone, ones he usually cannot be bothered to even look at. The car goes past the open gates of the cemetery and eventually slows to a stop.

It feels as if the air is ten times heavier. No one says a word as they step out of the vehicle, an act of respect towards those who have passed, but also because none of them can seem to find the words to say.

Today is Namjoon’s death anniversary, the third to be exact. Years before, Jeongguk has always gone with only Taehyung. However, with the bond he has formed with you and Heejin, he had offered to go together.

Heejin’s hold around the bouquet of flowers tightens as her lips curl into a sour grimace. Jeongguk bends down to her height and rubs her back thoughtfully. “Do you want to speak to your dad first, baby?”

“Yes.” Her voice is quiet, so small and vulnerable, so unlike Heejin that Jeongguk worries. But Heejin only takes her mother’s hand and leads her to the grave. Her steps are automatic, calculated.

Jeongguk stands off to the side with Taehyung, granting the two some privacy to speak with Namjoon. Taehyung keeps his lips sealed, the silence between them stretching for far too long as it usually does during that day. He watches Heejin place the flowers on the stone before kneeling next to her mother to pray.

Minutes later, the two return to the men, seeming more relieved than anything. “Thank you,” you say appreciatively, “you both should talk to Namjoon now.”

“Guk, why don’t you go on ahead?” Taehyung smiles, albeit a little wonky. His face is heavy with shadows, eyes with sleep.

Jeongguk hates seeing his friend desolate. Out of all of them, Jeongguk always thought that he took the worst blow from Namjoon’s death, but it’s apparent that he is not the only one with how much Taehyung has been suffering with his brother gone. He walks slowly with the grass crumpling beneath his footsteps. His feet feel heavy, his body even more so, until he finds himself in front of Namjoon’s stone.

“Hey, Joon, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” he breathes. The air feels a little clearer here, the breeze almost like a comforting caress against his skin. “Things have changed a lot in a year. I guess you’re probably not used to us coming together.”

He pauses for a second, “It has become ‘us’ huh, it’s funny how one conversation can turn things around. She is great, Joon, you picked a good one—then again, you were always the one who made better choices.” A chuckle leaves his lips. “Heejin is wonderful, she’s just like you, but maybe cuter. Really smart, she’s gonna grow up and do great things.”

For a second, the gentle wind seems to whisper in his ear and he swears that it is Namjoon, but it is hopeful wishing. “They’re wonderful, Namjoon, they make the house feel warmer. I guess I haven’t been paying attention for the past couple of years, but they’ve been there and now it feels different.

“We’ve always been on our own, our dads sucked in case you need a reminder—” he chuckles “—but this is probably the gods giving us our second chance, to give someone else a better opportunity. I hope—I hope you’ll entrust me with this—with them. I’ll do my best, Joon.”

The wind does not answer—no sign of Namjoon having heard his sentiment. But maybe, that is just the response he needs.

The ride home feels relatively lighter with Heejin distracting Jeongguk with mundane topics that keeps his mind off the lingering vestiges of nostalgia. The four of them share dinner in the dining room that same night, warm lights illuminating the outdoor space. The sky’s shades of pink and orange reflect upon the still pond, creating an almost ethereal effect on the glimmering surface. Heejin’s giggles bounce across the table and stretches Jeongguk’s grins further. They share stories—memories—as they traded their own antics with Namjoon. For once, Namjoon’s death anniversary doesn’t feel empty and instead leaves him at peace.

Soon after dinner, Taehyung helps Heejin write a letter to Namjoon by the edge of the pond with her legs dangling over the edge and feet skimming over the cool water. It is a ritual she has kept up since she started writing, a way of her to stay connected to her father.

Meanwhile, Jeongguk lends a hand in the kitchen as you clear the dishes. The two of you work in comfortable silence, neither of you attempting conversation. Over the last few months, Jeongguk has gained appreciation for the little things: Heejin’s gifts of tiny paper cranes on his desk, homemade meals you leave behind in the fridge for him, small smiles you send his way across the counter as you cook.

“Does she ask about him?”

The question jolts you out of your daze, shifting your gaze from the running water to Heejin’s silhouette outside. “Time to time, she likes hearing stories about him, about his supposed heroic endeavors. I couldn’t really tell her that her father basically ran a drug cartel with her godfather.”

Jeongguk chuckles, setting dried plates aside and nods, “She’s smart, I wouldn’t be surprised if she picked up on it by now.”

“My biggest fear,” you grin back teasingly, “though I suppose I can’t shield her from it forever.”

“You’ve raised her well though, she’s such a great kid. It’s hard not to love her,” Jeongguk admits. He is honest this time that maybe spending all that time with the both of you has created a fondness that’s irreplaceable. You’ve carved a space into his heart and filled it in with you and Heejin, and perhaps even sliding into gaps and holes he never knew he had.

“You’re a great man yourself. If you ever become a father, I think you’ll do wonderfully.”

Jeongguk would be lying if he said he doesn’t look back on his juvenile dreams, fairytale happy endings he wish he could had—the normal life, the good life. But remorse is a beast that he isn’t keen on facing so he tends to shy away from them and thus from thoughts of such impossible fantasies occurring.

“I can only dream.”

That night, Jeongguk holes up in his office as he has every year for Namjoon’s anniversary. It’s almost sad, but the ritual he does is comforting: he takes out Namjoon’s favorite bottle of whiskey, pours himself a glass on the rocks, and drinks in honor of his late friend. He tilts the glass back and forth in his hand, listening to the ice clink against the sides.

Jeongguk wonders if he’s mistaking his attraction towards you as comfort on Namjoon’s death. Being around you reminds him of what it was like to be around his best friend, but at the same time also offers him a new, equally as soothing presence that he never knew he needed.

A knock on his door resounds in the empty room and he calls for the person to come in. Jeongguk is surprised to be greeted by Heejin and you standing at his door before they step in quietly. Heejin holds a blush on her face that is too endearing. He walks towards you and quirks an eyebrow, “How can I help you ladies?”

Heejin glances up at you as if to ask permission before turning back to Jeongguk. “Um, I was wondering if you would read me a bedtime story.”

A bedtime story. Out of all the demands he’s received so far from her, and that’s plenty enough, this is perhaps the strangest one of all. His confusion is apparent by his lack of response.

“She’s seen a lot of children’s books with fathers reading their kids stories,” you clarify with a cough, “and she wanted to know if you could do it just for tonight.”

Jeongguk is left without words to say, gaping like a man searching for air. His heart suffers a twinge to the request. “Heejin, I—” Jeongguk is about to deny her, tell her that he can’t possibly do that, but quickly stops himself when he sees how her expression shifts into one that is crestfallen “—I’d love to read one for you, did you choose one already?”

It seems that his soft voice has surprised all of them. Heejin is the fastest to recover and tugs his hand with an excited nod, “Mhm! This one is my favorite, I think it’ll be yours too.”

“Okay, baby, lead the way.”

The three return to Heejin’s room with the little girl skipping the entire time, chanting ‘bedtime story, bedtime story!’ Heejin even goes as far as to shoo you away from the room because the story is just for her ears. You giggle at her command but does as she says, staying outside the door to listen in on their conversation.

Jeongguk is awkward and stiff at best with his storytelling, taking too many pauses and attempting (and failing) to make sound effects as best he can. However, Heejin is entertained all the same, laughing and complimenting Jeongguk on the voices he does. After the tittering subsides, you return to the room to find Heejin fast asleep. Jeongguk handling her so gently is a sight to behold.

“Thank you for that,” you whisper as you switch off the lights in the room and pull the door to a close.

Jeongguk smiles and shakes his head, saying that it is his pleasure. “I’m actually sort of touched  she asked, I’m glad I can help.”

“It’s different with you. Taehyung has always been her uncle but you—she looks up to you.”

The thought has his heart feeling just a teensy bit bloated. “I’m honored honestly, I can’t imagine myself being the best of role models but I appreciate it.”

You smile and nod, seeming to hesitate in your before you add on, “Um, if you’re not busy tonight, do you want to maybe… have a drink with me? I don’t think I want to be alone tonight.” Your words come out shy accompanied by a delightful blush.

Who is he to refuse?

They end up settling in the living room, the glass that stands transparent against the pond hides none of the beautiful glow of the lamps and fireflies fluttering outside. Some of his men patrols the area as per usual but pay them no mind. Jeongguk leans back against the leather couch, glass of wine in hand and a lighthearted laugh bubbling up his throat. While you offer up stories about Heejin and what it was like raising her, Jeongguk has some of his own from work (though, expectedly censored of its gory details). The two of you talk and talk, so much so that you end up on topic of Namjoon and sex.

In all honesty, the last thing Jeongguk wants to know is how his best friend had done the deed, but the intoxication has placed him past the point of caring. His laugh, for the first time in a very long time, is closing on boisterous. He can't help his undeniable mirth at the wondrous sight of how red your face had become—from the alcohol or the embarrassment, he isn't quite sure.

"Come on, it can't be that embarrassing," Jeongguk grins, acting as if he himself isn't scared of what answer you have.

You hide your face in your hands and let out a small squeak, one he finds too adorable, "It's embarrassing for me! I'm not telling you."

The conversation has shifted to the things the two of you like in the bedroom, perhaps a space that both of you really shouldn't be venturing into considering your drunken states. But what better time to discuss kinks than with wine?

He nudges your shoulder with his own, the teasing lilt still dancing in his voice. "What? You have a thing for daddies or something?" The flush that appears deep and dark on your face is correlational. He can't possibly miss it. With a choked laugh, he leans closer, wiggling his eyebrows, "Is that it? You like calling—"

"Stop," you groan, shoving his face away and turning to bury your face into the couch. He thinks that you're probably hoping the seat would swallow you whole but there is no escape from this predicament. "I don't want to say things like that."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," Jeongguk smiles, hand reaching up to pat your head comfortingly. "It's really not that big of a deal. I think it's a common one, don't you think?"

Your bottom lip sticks out in response as you turn away from him. "Still, I don't like saying it out loud in normal conversations like these."

"Considering my line of work, I hardly think it's plausible to have a normal conversation. Take a walk on the wild side," he pokes your side. "So tell me, does it turn you on when I call you baby girl?"

"Jeongguk," you gasp and let your hand fly to smack him on the arm, "you are unbelievable. Apologize right now."

"And what if I don't want to," he pauses and adds as a bonus, "baby girl?"

"You're despicable," you sputter, however still unable to keep the stupid smile from spreading across your face. Jeongguk notices your amusement and presses on, teasing you again and again, inching closer with every breath until he finds himself separated from you by a mere hairbreadth.

He watches as your gaze falls to his lips and his own moves to yours. Yours look pretty and plump, tinted dark with the color of wine, kissable. His breath stutters in his lungs as you begin to move ever so slowly towards him. Jeongguk seems to have the same idea because he is then mirroring your movement before finally touching his lips to yours.

Now, Jeongguk likes kissing, he takes pride in his skills most of the time. But you—you make him love kissing. He loves the way your lips move in sync with the rhythm of his heart. He loves the way you pull your lips from his for a mere millisecond to take a breath before diving in for another. He loves how you bump noses every time you do so. He loves how you curl yourself around him, arms meandering around his neck to pull him even closer, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

For the next few minutes, he loses himself in your lips and in your hold, in the way your fingers tangle through his hair and how your moans slip deliciously past your lips and through his. By then, you are nestled cozily on his lap, legs straddling his body. You feel so soft and warm, like a flick of flames in a cold winter day.

Both of you kiss and kiss and kiss until his lips feel sore, until his thighs begin to ache. Yet, he cannot bring himself to part from you, not when it feels so good.

When you finally release a long sigh, pulling yourself away from his face to lay your head on his shoulder, nose in his neck, Jeongguk feels breathless—but the good kind, the great kind, that leaves his heart knocking a soft cadence against his ribs. "I'm tired," you whisper.

"Get some sleep, baby," he says in return, voice successfully masking how loud his blood is rushing through his vessels.

Jeongguk bristles from his sleep with the sunlight streaming through the blinds, nearly blinding him as he opens his eyes. The last thing he wants is for Taehyung's smug smile to be the first thing he sees in the morning. "Morning, sunshine," the man grins, a smile too annoying for—he glances at the clock—six o'clock.

"The fuck you want, Tae?" Jeongguk grunts, about to move but is stopped when Taehyung brings his finger to his lips. When he looks down, he realizes that the heat pressed up against him is your body curled into his, your face in his chest as you snore away peacefully. "Shit," he mutters to himself. He must've fallen asleep after letting you fall asleep.

No.

He distinctly remembers trying to leave the couch only for you to pull him back, whines leaving your lips that urge him to stay. His fingers card through your hair as you hum in your slumber, burrowing yourself deeper into him.

"Sorry to break up the party, Casanova," Taehyung taps his watch, “if I didn’t know any better you guys were canoodling.”

“Jesus, are you five?”

He shrugs, dismissing the question, “Enough chit chat, we have a plane to catch.”

"Plane?"

"Yes, Jeongguk, plane," he stresses with an exasperated sigh as if he can't believe Jeongguk forgot. "You have a meeting with a Japanese investor remember? The one who's looking into Circle Room."

He winces, the remnants of the liquor swirling in his stomach. "Right, Japan. Fuck, I forgot."

"Get yourself ready, darling," Taehyung clicks his tongue one last time before exiting the room.

Jeongguk groans and slumps back, wishing that he can just fall back asleep and ignore all of his responsibilities. Why can't he just stop being an adult for one day? Just one. His eyes fall back to your sleeping figure, face so free of worries. What happened last night, he isn’t quite sure how to feel about it. On one hand, there is a guilt that plagues his mind, leaving him with a bitter aftertaste. But thinking about it now, he can’t help but feel his skin tingle with delight.

He feels like a teenager again, sneaking around and falling head over heels for every other person in sight. Letting out a sigh, he decides that his emotional dilemmas can be postponed for another day.

After leaving one last note on the table and promising to be back home soon, Jeongguk takes off for the rest of the week with Taehyung. The time there proves frustrating and the last thing Jeongguk wants to deal with is a difficult, hard-ass entrepreneur who thinks he knows how to run a business. Taehyung has been on the end of all his vexation, taking in insult after insult and responding with slander of his own to put Jeongguk in his place.

By the time he returns to Seoul, all he wants to do is drown in a few drinks (and maybe that man along with it). Alcohol is but a temporary escape from all his problems and he wishes he could just flip all his problems off, but alas he is a man with many responsibilities.

You are working away on the outdoor dining table when he returns, an offshoring freelance thing you had brought up once. Though, in his livid state, all he can picture at that moment is locking himself away in his office and willing away his worries. He barely spares you a glance and, before you can even greet him, he is already sheltered away in his office.

An hour, or perhaps more, passes but he can't really tell. He's still chipping away at the contract that that blasted Japanese investor had made, ensuring no loopholes whatsoever that can potentially fuck him over. He has to return to Japan because of the prick and he barely has time to do everything else in South Korea.

His attention is pulled away from the glowing screen in front of him when a knock sounds on the door. As you step in, it feels as if his muscles tense even more. He isn't sure how well you would deal with his present state of mind and can only pray that you would leave him be.

"Sorry, can I come in?" you ask, voice timid that softens him up just a little bit.

"Yeah," he grunts, shrugging and saving his document before clicking it closed. He directs his gaze to you instead as you lean back against his desk. You are dressed in nothing more than a bathrobe and—how in the fucking world did he miss it in the first place? Jeongguk tries not to stare too much at your tantalizing cleavage and glues his eyes to your face instead. "Anything I can help you with, Miss?"

You smirk, nudging his leg lightly with your bare foot. "You're playing cute. Are you doing okay?"

He sighs as thoughts from the trip come whirling back like a tornado inside his mind. "Yeah, just tired and still working away but it's nothing I haven't dealt with before." His words are honest enough to hopefully convince you, but euphemized enough to avoid saying my entire fucking life is a mess, this deal is a mess, I'm a mess.

"You need to relax and destress a bit. Find a hobby, go fly a kite or something."

"Really? Fly a kite is the best hobby you can come up with for me?" Jeongguk quirks an eyebrow in amusement, leaning back against the cushion leather seat.

"I don't know much about you, Jeon Jeongguk," you wiggle your finger at him and poke his nose, "I don't have much to go on to suggest hobbies."

"Mm, anything that can help me relax," he hums.

You pause for a moment. "Okay, so what helps you relax?" Jeongguk only shrugs without giving it much thought. You huff a laugh and raise an eyebrow, "Maybe you just need sex or something—" Jeongguk chokes "—I heard a little bit from Taehyung about how wild you were back then."

"Taehyung is a goddamn liar," he hisses, tugging on his collar. Is the room suddenly stuffy?

"So you didn't fuck around?"

"I didn't say that," he mutters. "I was just a brat is all."

You giggle, pinching his cheek, "Are you a man now? You're so cute, Guk-ah."

Never in his life did he ever think that he would be blushing like a teenager. He is Jeon Jeongguk after all, how can he be so easily flustered by measly words that certainly didn't define him? "I am and I'm not cute. I'm intimidating."

He sees your lips twitch but you nod anyway, teeth peeking out from between those lips as if hiding your smile proved to be too difficult of a task. Tugging you down from the table, he settles you comfortably on his lap, hand supporting you on the small of your back. He stares for too long, one heartbeat, then two. The silence is comfortable, peaceful. A feeling Jeongguk hasn’t felt these past few days.

“What?” you ask him, smiling.

“What?” he echoes.

“You’re staring.”

“You’re beautiful.”

The words have you thrown for a loop. Your response dying in your throat over again when Jeongguk sweetly grins up at you, hand rubbing circles on your back. “I’m—um—thank you.”

He chuckles, finding the stiffness in your muscles amusing. He’s admittedly pleased that he can affect you this much, have you blushing in his hands. He wonders what it would be like to have you underneath him, looking shy and sweet. Christ, that’s a thought for another day perhaps.

“Hey,” you start, “if you ever need to relax, I mean, if sex helps then—what I’m trying to say is, you know, I’m here and—”

The aghast look on his face has you stopping, heart faltering in your chest. He notices the subtle shift in your expression and wonders if he has done the wrong thing. To reassure you, he holds you tighter against him, hand gripping your waist. “I’m flattered that you would offer, but if we were ever to—” he coughs, cheeks tainted pink “—I don’t want you to think of it as a favor to me. I’d rather you do it because you want to.”

“I do want to!” you interrupt him, then proceeding to blush with how fast you responded. “I mean, I do. I do want to have sex with you, but I didn’t want you to feel pressured or anything you know.” You huff, “Get with the times, Jeon Jeongguk. Don’t make me say it to explicitly.”

Jeongguk laughs, cupping the back of your neck to pull you down for a sweet kiss. He whispers then with your mouths pressed together, “You’re fucking beautiful, any man would be lucky to have you.”

“But I only want you,” you murmur right back.

You truly will be the death of him. Jeongguk adjusts your position so you are straddling him, soft legs wrapped around his waist as he moves his lips against yours, twisting against each other smoothly like silk. The heat that radiates off of you only proves to tense his body up, the member in between his legs hardening at the contact of your plush ass pressing down against him. His hands travel south to massage the soft flesh in his palms, loving the way he cups them so perfectly.

“J-Jeongguk,” you stutter slightly, blushing at the sensations. You already feel dampness in between your thighs, maybe even feeling slightly ashamed by how easily you react to his touch. It has been quite some time since you’ve been so intimate with another person and Jeongguk’s grasp on you is too enticing to resist.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” he coos, pulling you down again to meet your lips. God, he absolutely loves kissing you and your soft lips with your body warm against his. “I’ll make sure the only name you know by tonight is mine.”

Jeongguk and you grow closer by the minute, sharing secret, intimate touches when you think no one is looking, accepting the way his hand often lands protective on the curve of your waist. The days that once seemed to drag on ever so slowly seem to blur together into a giant frame that is painted with you and Heejin. Heejin warms up even faster to Jeongguk, never shying away from voicing her requests on her own.

Not that he minds in the least. Jeongguk adores spoiling the little girl, much to your annoyance. “Come on,” he laughs after he purchases a plastic nerf gun for your daughter, “she’s only young once.”

“Exactly, which is why I need to teach her that guns are a bad idea,” you huff, shaking your head at Heejin who is aiming the toy at Taehyung and making firing noises. The other man plays along, taking those air bullets to the heart and crashing on top of her. Her giggles fill the room, easing you out of your worries.

“Kind of hard to do that when nearly everyone who accompanies her in the house carries guns,” he snorts, pulling you close when Heejin and Taehyung are distracted. Even after all this time, you still pink a little whenever Jeongguk draws you near. He presses a kiss to the back of your ear and grins, “I’ll make sure that she knows how to use it appropriately.”

“You better,” you throw him a glare which quickly melts when he softly smiles at you and places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Pew, pew!” Heejin calls out again, aiming for another one of Jeongguk’s men this time. The man, who stands burly and terribly awkward, only shifts around uncomfortably, unsure of what to do. Instead of being discouraged, Heejin pushes closer, continuing to fire at the man.

Taehyung gives him a look and mouths, “Play along.”

It’s hilarious to see Heejin opening Jeongguk’s men up from the tense, stick-up-their-bums badasses into people who don’t know how to handle children. But it’s hard not to love Heejin when she’s the only spot of innocence left in their tainted world. Once they realize that Jeongguk isn’t as spiteful towards you and Heejin as they initially believed, they’re quick to welcome them into the family.

That night, after Jeongguk once again shows you how well he can use his hands and cock, you lay exhausted underneath the sheets in his bed. He pulls you close, lets you lean your head against his chest. You trace your finger along the colored ink that pictures a panther that curls around his shoulder.

“Hm, I can’t believe I didn’t notice you had this before,” you hum thoughtfully, finger running along the length of the panther’s tail that curls around his bicep.

“Bangtan doesn’t need to draw too much attention. We have tattoos to symbolize the organizations we represent but I don’t want the law coming after us just because they see ink.”

You press against his chest where the panther lays, “Mm, that’s thoughtful of you.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he chuckles, “as proud as we are of what we’ve achieved, I don’t need trouble.”

“You’re trouble,” you giggle.

“Only to you,” he grins, carding his fingers through your hair. You bury your face in his chest again, safe and protected. “By the way, I’m heading to Seoul next week,” Jeongguk whispers in your ear, “would you and Heejin want to come along? See the city.”

Your eyes widen at the offer. “Seoul? I mean, I’m sure that would be delightful but I don’t want to get in your way.”

He shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be staying in a hotel there, everything will be provided for you. While I get work done, you can see the city and take Heejin around with one of my men.”

“Why do you have to go to Seoul? Isn’t your territory in Busan?”

Jeongguk clenches his jaw and rolls hie eyes, “Yeah, which is why I’m pissed that another gang is starting to encroach on our area. A few of them have been spotted near Haeundae Beach where we usually have clients and do our runs.”

“I see,” you nod, “and you’re going to be talking to them.”

He doesn’t answer, only tightens his lips.

“Jeongguk, are you really—”

“It’s just a little warning!” he defends with a laugh, “Sometimes they need a reminder that gangs have their territories that they shouldn’t be crossing.”

“Alright, fine,” you huff, “I’m sure Heejin will be excited.”

Jeongguk smiles, “Good, I’m sure we all can use a little vacation.”

Thus, after packing up most of their belongings, the group set out to Seoul. Heejin marvels at the scenic view outside the fast-paced train, pointing out the numerous valleys and animals that she spots along the way. You sit next to her, joining in her enthusiasm despite having seen the sights before.

“You’re from Seoul?”

“Yeah, born and raised before my parents passed. Then I moved to Busan to help my grandmother before she passed too,” you explain, turning to glance at Heejin, “so it’s good that I get to take her back to my hometown, show her how we city kids do it.”

Jeongguk chuckles in agreement, “She’ll love it.”

Soon after they arrive, they rent a car to head over to their accommodations. They check into a nice hotel located in the heart of Myeongdong, packed with people even on a weekday. Even if Jeongguk is the head of one of the biggest mafias in South Korea, he is still there for both legitimate and more illicit reasons, and hence can appear in the city under the guise of business.

As he takes off early the next morning to meet with the head of a local gang, he leaves you and Heejin to take a stroll around the district with a promise to join them later on. Jeongguk rarely graces other organizations with his presence, but this one called for his attendance to solve things smoothly. In other words, he isn’t planning to shed blood today. Not yet at least.

Seungcheol, a balding man with two gold teeth and a practically permanent toothpick dangling between his lips, shows no sense of respect towards Jeongguk who had so kindly gone all the way here in order to maintain peace and order in the community. While Jeongguk covers most of Busan, Seungcheol dominates over the drug market in Seoul. However, in terms of connections and quickly expanding clientele, Jeongguk has the lead.

From the moment Jeongguk steps foot in the empty bar, one owned by Seungcheol, he can already smell a rat—a disrespectful rat who so desperately needed to learn his place. Jeongguk has been itching to shove the man’s feet off the table, grab him by the collar and slit his throat open in front of his men.

But he has somewhere to be and the last thing he needs are blood-stained clothes.

“You still messing around, kid?” Seungcheol grinned, picking in between his teeth with that stick.

Jeongguk wonders how long that thing has been in his mouth. “I take my responsibilities pretty seriously, I don’t know if you do.”

“‘Course I do,” he scoffs with a humored snort, “I always do my research, keep track of competition and all you know.”

“The makings of a businessman,” Jeongguk drawls dryly.

“Now, now,” he clicks his tongue, “don’t be rude. I hear you’ve been rather careless lately. Heard you got yourself a pretty little thing.” The mere mention of another person has him stiffening and he wonders if Seungcheol has caught wind of— “wasn’t she your partner’s woman? What was his name again?” Don’t say it, don’t say it. Jeongguk fists his hands underneath the table. Do not let his pure name be said with that worthless mouth. “Namjoon, was it?”

Taehyung inches closer as if sensing Jeongguk’s budding rage. “Don’t talk about him,” he growls quietly, “don’t even think about saying his name.”

“Why?” Seungcheol forges a pitiful look, “Scared the dead will come back to haunt you? Poor thing that kid. He was going to have a pretty family in a pretty house—” shut up, shut the fuck up “—but he just had to die, huh. What a shame.” Jeongguk breathes through his nose, a vain attempt of keeping his temper in check. “Instead, you lived. The stupid one.”

Jeongguk licks his teeth, body stiffening. Taehyung can feel his anger prickling on his skin, raising goosebumps and a chilling fear that snakes down his spine. His boss can tell that he wants to try to calm him down, but this kind of rage—the one that involves people he cares for—is not easily pacified.

“Have you ever wondered—” Taehyung nearly groans because this fucking idiot “—if you were worth it, Jeon Jeongguk? You’ve got a big mouth, short temper, and none of the charm. Nothing like that friend of yours. Except he’s the one buried six feet underground, covered in dirt with no honor to his name.”

“You know jack shit about him,” Jeongguk snarls, gritting his teeth, “I’m not here to discuss past matters. Let bygones be bygones.”

“Wonder what would happen to his pretty family now.” The other man continues, dismissing Jeongguk’s words completely and chooses to add fuel to the fire. “They could’ve lived a long, happy life. But now you’re the one in charge, you reckless brat.”

The younger shoves the metal table away from him with a scrape, hitting Seungcheol straight in his belly with a choke. “Shove that fucking peace offering up your ass,” he hisses, “I’m not going to deal with your impudent shit until you understand the hierarchy. Get your boys off my territory or you’ll have them return to you with no heads.”

“You think I’d really come here empty-handed?” Seungcheol laughs, kicking his own chair back. “You really are a brat after all. You fucking lost your right hand man but I lost a brother that night. You Bangtan scum are just as vile as the rest of us. Get off your high horse. Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to attack a man’s family?”

“Namjoon was fucking family you piece of shit. I hate to bring up the past but your fucking goon came after us first that night.”

“He was a kid, you piece of shit!”

Jeongguk grits his teeth, “So were the rest of us!”

“Keep your fucking bullshit to yourself and get out of my fucking bar.”

It is then that Jeongguk smiles—a grin so sinister that the men around him seem to freeze in time. “If you think you can control Bangtan, guess again. We haven’t reigned undefeated for years for nothing. Keep that big mouth of yours shut or I’ll sew it closed myself. Like you said, I have a short temper and who knows when I’ll be reckless next.”

[ you ]

Your eyes follow Heejin trek around the room, giggling and petting every dog in sight. The two of you, after working your way around Myeongdong and Gangnam, end the day in a dog café just a ten minute walk from Eonju Station. The urban playground is swarming with dog owners and their pets, freely roaming around and enjoying their time. Heejin seems to take delight in the place more than the dogs do.

You are situated by the window when Taehyung walks in and seats himself across from you. There is a tightness around his eyes that has you frowning. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Jeongguk sent me to pick you guys up because he has some shit to deal with.” Absentmindedly, your lips disappointedly press into a thin line. Taehyung doesn’t miss the unsubtle shift. “Sorry,” he says, voice a little softer, “work calls.”

Jeongguk had promised to meet the two of you here and, although you are saddened, you force yourself to smile and reassure Taehyung. “No worries, I know he’s super busy and Heejin and I have been doing fine. Plus, Yugyeom over there seems to enjoy the dogs more than we do.” You gesture to the bodyguard assigned to you who has been curled up with a dog in a corner for the past hour. However, when he realizes Taehyung has arrived, his eyes widen as he releases the dog and stands upright.

“Yeah, I’m glad you girls are enjoying yourself,” he smiles, “Jeongguk is back at the hotel so whenever you’re ready.”

You lick your lips, hesitating before asking, “Did something happen?”

Taehyung fidgets, a sign of his uncertainty, before he merely shrugs, “Sour deal is all.”

Unfortunately for you, Jeongguk has not returned to the hotel. After parting with Taehyung, blood still pumping furiously through his veins, he walks straight into one of the night clubs he co-owns with an investor based in Seoul. He sits by the bar, tipping back shot after shot to let the antidepressant course through his body, spreading warmth and the kind of relaxation that makes him forget this entire day.

Instead, his mind is brought back to Namjoon. Seungcheol, as much of an asshole he is, is right. Namjoon should’ve been saved that night. Namjoon should’ve led Bangtan. Namjoon should’ve been standing here today, dealing with all this, raising Heejin, taking care of you.

Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.

The more liquor he inhales, the shittier he feels. All he can think about is that he deserves it. Maybe Seungcheol is right. What the fuck is he doing here really? He had the chance to save his partner, a man who was practically his other half, but he had been a coward and his friend had taken the bullet.

He stumbles into his room, barely managing to slip his card into the slot. Fuck. The room is spinning a little bit despite his having sobered up a little on his walk back. Taehyung had left him multiple calls, all of which he ignored. He’s probably calling to lecture again, scold him for being an idiot.

Jeongguk is, after all, just a kid. He is far from the man his subordinates believe him to be, far from the gentleman you see him as.

Just minutes later, just as he loosens his tie and feels the pounding subside, there is knocking at the door that brings another surge of thudding in his mind. Jesus Christ. He staggers to the door, pulling it open to see you.

You—you’re so beautiful, so sweet. You’re intelligent and thoughtful. It’s no wonder that you match so well with Namjoon. Namjoon was his brother, but you are his lover. Jeongguk wonders if he is selfish for starting something with you, for replacing Namjoon when he never could live up to the name.

“Jeongguk, are you okay?”

He feels his stomach rise, his throat tightening as he chokes out a groan. “F-fine, what do you want?”

“I—” you pause, opening and closing your mouth as if finding the words to say “—I’m just worried, thought I’d check on you cause I heard you come in.”

“I’m peachy so go get some sleep,” he says, grabbing the door to pull it closed.

However, you stop his movements and instead push your way in along with him. You sit him down on the bed and begins to undo his tie, tugging at the lapels of his jacket to pull it off.

“Jesus, what are you doing?”

“You need some sleep and water, I’ll get you ready once I make sure that you’re safe in bed.”

“I’m not a brat, don’t treat me like one,” he hisses bitterly, pushing your hands away as he attempts to do it on his own. He wrangles free of his jacket, kicks off his shoes and slides against the sheets. “You can leave, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

You sigh, grabbing the bottle of water on the table and handing it to him, “Drink up.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“I’m just making sure you are, Jeongguk,” you frown, your tone showing the initial signs of your irritation, “it’s not a big deal.”

“And I keep telling you I’m fine,” he snaps again. The hammering in his head returns as his exasperation is fueled by your presence. He needs to sleep it off, he just needs to forget once again that Namjoon is gone, that he’s probably going to fuck this entire gang up. Forget. That’s all he needs to do.

“Did something happen?” you press again, “Taehyung wouldn’t tell me anything but I want to help when I can, Jeongguk.”

He breathes out a sigh, “And what if you can’t? What if you can’t help? Namjoon isn’t here for either of us. He would know what to do in every fucking situation. But he’s not here and he never will be.”

Your expression twitches with a flinch, a flicker of pain passing through your eyes. “Is this what it’s about?” you ask quietly, “did something happen regarding Namjoon?”

“Does it matter?” Jeongguk laughs, clenching his jaw.

“Of course it matters,” you say abruptly, “Jeongguk, Namjoon has been gone for years now. It’s time to let him go.”

“Christ,” he mutters under his breath.

“I know you were and still are hurt by his death but he would want us to move on.”

Jeongguk stands, inching closer towards you to growl at your face, “What do you know?! You don’t know jack shit about moving on.”

“I know that I lost him too!” you flare, “I know that he’s gone.”

However, Jeongguk doesn’t relent there, instead coming up to you and jabbing his finger at you. “Do you know what it’s like to have him die before your eyes? Do you know what it feels like to have a raw beating heart ripped in two? That’s what it felt like! Namjoon was everything to me.”

“And you think you’re so fucking special?” you snap right back, “Namjoon was my boyfriend, he was all I had, Jeongguk. That man took care of me when no one else would, took me in as if I was blood. If you think you’re so fucking exceptional just because you loved him, then get in line. I loved him as much as you did, I mourned for him just like you did. You think any of this is easy for me?”

Jeongguk’s lip quivers, the first mistake he makes perhaps. Never show weakness, never show your fears. The lesson has been ingrained in his veins from day one, tattooed onto him like the permanent ink he has on his skin.

“I loved him, Guk,” you say softly, “he was my everything. He was all I had before Heejin. He gave me Heejin. H-he was a good man, Jeongguk, but so are you.” Jeongguk grimaces with your words, shifting away when you try to touch him. “You may not believe it but he did. He loved you. He would’ve done anything for you.”

“He died for me,” Jeongguk whispers, “I can’t—nobody can—ever repay a debt like that. He was a good man who deserved a good life, deserved a wife and children and the happily ever after everyone wants.”

You drift closer to him again, slowly slipping your fingers in between his. He doesn’t move away and you find yourself speaking even gentler, “There is no debt to be paid. He didn’t do it for glory or honor, he did it for you because he wanted to, because that was just the kind of man he was. This life has no happily ever after, you and Namjoon both constantly remind me of it, and I’ve accepted that. I knew what I was getting into when I accepted him. We—Heejin and I—don’t need a happily ever after, we just need to stay alive for as long as we can until the opportunity presents itself. It may or may not come, I may be living in false hope this entire time, but it is hope nonetheless and it’s hope that keeps me going.”

“It’s not that easy, this isn’t easy.”

“You’re free to make your own choices, Guk, but just know that Namjoon would’ve wanted only one thing for you: for you to forgive yourself. Living in guilt is living in misery and that would be the last thing Namjoon would ever wish on you.”

“What do you think would’ve happened?” he began as he slides to the floor. “What if he survived instead of me?”

You press your lips together. “Stop living in what if’s, Jeon Jeongguk. If it is the past, let it be in the past.”

“The past never really leaves you, you have to know that,” he chuckles, sighing as he lets his head fall back against the wall. “I think you should go. I-it’s late.”

“Jeongguk—”

“I’ll be fine, I just need some alone time to think.”

You stand still doubtful, but Jeongguk’s head has dropped, his eyes on the floor. “I’m next door so just call me if you need anything, yeah?”

But by then Jeongguk does not grant you a reply.

The next day finds Jeongguk on an awkward walk with you and Heejin. While the man tries his best not to alarm the young girl, the tension that crackles between the two of you is palpable. Taehyung doesn’t miss this, neither does Heejin. However, they figure that it is a matter best left for you both to tend to and thus they stop themselves from meddling.

Jeongguk moves distractedly through the Seoul crowd, keeping his eyes floating upon you and Heejin’s figures up front. His right hand man walks next to him, quiet with questions hanging on the tip of his tongue.

“Hey, Guk,” he finally starts, “everything okay, man?”

“Yeah, fine,” Jeongguk replies. His voice doesn’t give away anything which leaves Taehyung itching for more, but he knows he really shouldn’t press.

“I know we had a shit meeting with Seungcheol’s gang, but don’t worry. If it happens again, it’ll be easy to handle. His goons aren’t that big and his runners are chickens once scared away.”

“Mhmm,” he says.

Jeongguk isn’t sure what has him so preoccupied but his mind continues to flip the switches of his mood and the last thing he needs is to drop a shit one on Taehyung. He is still plagued by Seungcheol’s words, Namjoon’s death, and your presence. Life had been so simple before everything happened. He wonders if the guilt would follow him until the day he died. Bet that fucker Seungcheol would like that.

A gunshot slices clean through the buzzing air, eliciting screams from the patrons all around. Jeongguk feels his heart drop, his body immediately reacting to reach for the two of you. His eyes scan the area as more bullets fly to the air. He can barely see them zoom past but the shots ring louder and louder.

Taehyung immediately pulls his own gun from his hidden holster, body alert as he inspects the area for the perpetrator. It isn’t until he spots the figure in a mask, gun in hand, and he follows the aim to find it aimed directly at you and Heejin just inches away from Jeongguk.

“Get down!” he screams, lungs shaking at the sheer force of his desperation.

When the next shot is fired, Jeongguk is a breath away from you and Heejin who have frozen still in the midst of the rapidly moving crowd. Jeongguk can’t take his eyes off of the two of you, his heartbeat slowing down as if the world moves in slow motion. Heejin with her mouth open, shrieks that he can’t hear, hands covering her ears. You, arms wrapped around your daughter, as you close your eyes as if awaiting your destiny.

He is so close.

So close.

His mind shifts in retrograde then, back to that fateful night when he can see Namjoon. His body standing tall, rain splattering on his hair and soaking his clothes. He smiles. Jeongguk can see him smile. That is before he sinks to the ground, hand clutching his stomach where blood is quickly permeating through the fabric. His heart stops.

Another scream pierces through the air that yanks him quickly back to reality. His eyes are open yet he can’t bring himself to see whether anything has—“Guk, shit!” Taehyung propels him forward, “shit, shit, I-I’ll call an ambulance.” Jeongguk sees his shaking hand punch in the numbers on his phone.

One second, you are on your feet, and the next Heejin is crying next to your limp body on the ground. Jeongguk snaps out of his reverie then, dropping to his knees as he takes hold of you, blood that looks familiar, so familiar—it feels like history is repeating itself, a cruel twist of fate bringing him around full circle. His hand closes around the wound, hoping to some sort of deity that the bleeding would stop.

“Y-you’re going to be okay,” he whispers, hand stroking your hair. He still sees your chest rise and fall with every breath, but your lack of response leaves his blood frozen. “You’re going to be okay, baby, I promise. We’ll take care of you, we’ll make you all better.”

You still don’t say a thing, your eyes closed as you lay there unmoving.

“Fuck, fuck,” Jeongguk says frustratedly to himself. He looks up from your body to see Heejin tugging on her mother’s shirt, sobbing and sniffling as she begs her mom to wake up. Jeongguk’s heart aches for her. She has already lost one parent thanks to Jeongguk’s negligence. She can’t lose another. “Tae, what’s the ETA?”

“Five minutes,” Taehyung curses under his breath, “the crowd is out of control. It’s difficult for them to come through.”

Think, Jeongguk, think. He quickly rips a shirt out of one of the shopping bags, pressing it against the wound in your stomach. Fearing that you’ve fallen into shock, he shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around your body. The entire time, he attempts to keep his demons at bay, keeps the taunting in his mind away. You are the priority in this case.

“I see the stretcher!” Taehyung calls, the relief evident in his voice.

Everything moves too quickly. Jeongguk files into the ambulance with you and Heejin while Taehyung is told to take his own vehicle to the hospital. The entire thing feels like a dream—or a nightmare, Jeongguk can’t really tell. His body that was humming with nerves earlier has gone still, the life drained out of him as he sits in the waiting room.

The worst of the worst scenarios has gone through his mind, leaving his palms sweating and knee bouncing. He tries to stop himself from overthinking and just pray that the best doctor in the city that he hired can get the bullet out of you and put you back in tip top shape.

Jeongguk feels as if he has been thrown back to years ago. His fate like déjà vu.

Taehyung and Heejin returns minutes later when he is lost in his thoughts, their hands joined together. Heejin had cried and cried, her eyes puffy with redness as she crawls up to the seat next to Jeongguk and leans her head against his arm. “Did Uncle Taehyung get you the ice cream?”

She quiets, small hand latching onto Jeongguk’s shirt, and shakes her head. “I don’t want ice cream.”

Jeongguk sighs and pulls her close with an arm around her. She settles on his lap instead and sits quietly. “Don’t worry,” Jeongguk whispers, “mommy will be okay. The doctor will make her all better.” He runs his fingers through her tangled hair as she nods silently.

The two of them sit there for hours, only leaving for bathroom breaks. Heejin fidgets and shifts in her seat until Jeongguk offers his phone for her to distract herself. She takes pictures and plays games, anything that makes her giggle and keeps her mind off of her mother in surgery.

When the doctor finally returns, Jeongguk practically leaps to his feet with Taehyung joining him moments later. “The surgery was a success, she’s asleep right now and resting. We’ll let you know when she awakes but we recommend leaving her be for at least two hours.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Jeongguk breathes, shaking his hand, “thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, Sir.” The doctor smiles down at Heejin then, “your mother will be just fine, sweetheart. You can see her soon. Stay with your dad for now okay.”

Neither he nor Heejin corrects the mislabel—or rather, Jeongguk’s heart warms at the thought. Taehyung groans in relief, thanking the lords and promising to go to church more often. Heejin laughs and calls him silly.

When he is finally allowed into your room, it feels as if the world has been renewed. You lay there, looking exhausted with hair sticking against your forehead and splayed out on the pillow. Heejin bounces over and engulfs her mom in a tight hug before retreating when she moans in pain. “S-sorry!” Heejin says, wide-eyed, “do you feel better?”

“Much better, baby,” you answer softly, “did you eat yet?”

Even when you are bedridden and recovering from a surgery, you’re still worrying about whether your daughter has eaten. Jeongguk wonders if he’ll ever be as selfless with his own child. Heejin nods eagerly and spills what she has done for the past hours waiting for you.

Taehyung slowly embraces you, whispering words Jeongguk can’t hear from where he stands frozen near the door. You giggle, a sound that has never left him so grateful for the magic of medicine. He leaves afterwards with a note to his boss that he’ll be looking into the shooting with his men.

Jeongguk idles by the door until you gesture him over. He sits down by your bedside, holding your hand in his. Your hand feels a little cold but the tangibility of your presence soothes his apprehension. Before he can say anything, you already say, “This is not your fault. Don’t apologize for it, okay.”

It’s as if you had looked straight into his mind. Christ, he chuckles under his breath and draws circles on the back of your hand. “Alright, I won’t. How are you feeling?”

“Like a bullet just plunged into my stomach and was dug out when my stomach was sliced open.”

Jeongguk winces at the description but laughs because, even in this state, your sense of humor is still intact. “I’m glad the bullet was taken out then.”

You then press your lips together, marring your pretty face with a frown, “However, I do need you to compensate for damages.” Jeongguk cocks an eyebrow. “Considering the injury I sustained and the emotional impact, I think you’ve got a debt now.”

“I’ll definitely pay you back and support—”

“Christ, not that,” you roll your eyes, “you already support Heejin and I anyway, what’s the point of that? This is extra compensation that I’m asking for.”

Jeongguk worries his bottom lip. “What is it?”

“From now on, you’re not allowed to blame yourself for every single bad thing that happens. You’re going to professionally deal with the aftermath of whatever shit you did without pinning guilt onto yourself. I don’t need Heejin growing up with a man still hanging on the words of an asshole like Seungcheol—yes, Taehyung told me if you’re wondering—” this shuts up Jeongguk’s unsaid question “—and you’re going to be a good man to Heejin, a good guardian, because that’s what she deserves. You’re going to do your best to make us happy but most of all, make you happy because that’s what matters to us.”

Unbelievable. He laughs, deep, loud, and genuine. He brushes the tear that has escaped away from his eye to grin at you, nodding, “You didn’t even need to ask. I was planning to do that in the first place.”

“Good,” you say smugly, “you better hold onto your word, Jeon Jeongguk. No man in the Bangtan household is going to be playing a crap archetype.”

“Now that’s a promise I will keep.”

five years later…

You run down the porch, chasing after the wobbling toddler who’s garbling and giggling all the way. “Heesun, come back here!” you groan, tired legs nearly giving out.

By the seaside, Jeongguk scoops up the little boy who lets out a shriek at his father’s capture. “Dad, put me down!” he screams and wriggles in the man’s hold. Instead, Jeongguk carries him like a baby and blows raspberries on his stomach. “Stop! That tickles!” Your boyfriend’s laugh carries in the wind and shooting tingles down your spine.

“Me too!” Heejin squeals and jumps on Jeongguk’s back as he grunts at the weight. He turns around, allowing her legs to swing freely in the air as she let out peals of laughter. The sight of it is all too endearing and your heart hurts in the best way possible.

Jeongguk leans back to whisper something in her ear and Heejin perks up, dropping from his back and running towards you instead. She catches your hand, lips curled mischievously, dimples appearing on both her cheeks, “Mom! Dad wants you to go there so he can give you a big smooch.”

You blush and your gaze darts over to him who grins unapologetically at you. When the four of you finally settle down with a blanket spread out, Heejin feeds Heesun as Jeongguk pulls you close to him. The air is thick with the salty scent of the sea, but the breeze carries a soothing whisper on your skins.

When you had gotten pregnant with Heesun, Jeongguk basically put you in full lockdown until you put your foot down on his irrational protectiveness. Instead, he assigns twice the number of bodyguards whenever you leave the premises.

Life in the organization has been relatively quiet. After the shooter was found to be a man of Seungcheol’s group, it didn’t take them long to confront him. Turns out, the shooter was a close friend of the man who died alongside Namjoon and worked on his own accord to satisfy his personal vendetta.

“We don’t mess with family, Jeon,” Seungcheol had said and Jeongguk let the man off with an instruction to discipline his members.

Time goes by and Jeongguk remains in the organization, leading it with an iron fist but a better heart. He tries to avoid confrontation that involved death and violence for his family’s sake, but when push comes to shove, even you can be understanding. You stay busy with offshore work in the comfort of his humble abode when Heejin advanced in elementary school. It also allows you to spend some time with Heesun who is still being home schooled for kindergarten unlike Heejin who has finally convinced her father to go to a public school.

Her bodyguard still follows her to school to ensure her safety, of course. Though, Heejin has gotten rather fond of the man, often taking him to dog cafés to spend time with her.

Jeongguk leans over and presses a kiss on the back of your ear as his hand lands on your stomach, “You know what I was thinking—”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I was going to say.”

“You want another baby,” you give him a look, “but we both know neither of us can handle another right now.”

He pouts childishly, “But Heesun is already four. He’s growing up too fast.”

“Jeongguk,” you moan in complaint when he tries to manipulate you with kisses all over your face.

“We’ll talk about this more later,” he promises, “Heejin, Heesun, do you want another baby brother or sister?”

The two squeal in agreement simultaneously. You shove at his shoulder with a hiss, “Using the kids as a ploy is immoral.”

“Babe,” he snorts, “I lead a gang. I think I know what counts as immoral and using our kids isn’t.”

“You’re terrible,” you huff.

Jeongguk places a sweet kiss on your lips, “But you love me still.”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

Jeongguk has never felt this kind of contentment and, despite everything else, he keeps the pipe dream going—that he will forever hold this kind of peace. However, he supposes that’s just the way his life should be.

[thisislizheather]

March Magic

Forgive the lateness of this post, but March was a busy month so LET’S TALK ABOUT IT.

So after leaving Ipsy last year (for various reasons), I’ve missed receiving a little package every month full of makeup samples. I was all set to try Birchbox, but they wouldn’t accept a Canadian billing address so that didn’t work out. Instead I opted to give PLAY! By Sephora a chance. I was a member for three months before cancelling last week. My reason for ending it was mainly because I barely got any lipsticks or highlighters or anything FUN. I don’t know if it’s because they know that I’m in my mid-thirties or because they just have an influx of specific products, but a bitch doesn’t need twenty sample size cleansers. Not this bitch, anyway. Also, sending out a foundation sample (no matter the luxuriousness of the brand) makes ZERO sense because finding the right shade makes all the difference in the world for foundations. Also, I barely wear foundation. So I ended it. Also, am I the only one who hates getting tiny perfume samples? I feel like I have so many that I feel bad about throwing out, so I just keep them in the washroom and then use them instead of air-freshener if someone (or myself) stinks up the room (#lizadvice).

I was briefly intrigued by Frank & Oak’s clothing subscription box but decided after an hour of research that it’s probably too expensive for what you’re getting, even if the clothes are gorgeous.

Of course it was upsetting to hear that Luke Perry passed away. He was definitely one of the first men that I loved on television (god, I remember every single detail of that 90210 when his wife Rebecca Gayheart was killed). Such a good actor. So wildly attractive. And man, he was one of the best parts of Riverdale. I hate thinking about that show without him.

I absolutely love spring peas, so I made this Lemon-Basil Orzotto and it was really good.

I tried this charcoal that’s supposed to clean your makeup sponge and it was kind of annoying to use. It just takes too long to get a good lathering, and my foaming hand soap does the job much better and quicker.

I’ve only used it once so far, but I think I’m really into this Bliss Jelly Glow Peel Exfoliator that I got at Target for $10. No irritation at all and my face felt crazy smooth afterward.

I have a mini version of Sunday Riley’s Lactic Acid and it’s kind of really good, too. Only a million dollars more expensive than other good facial products! Sweet! Also, you’d think having “acid” in the name would frighten people away but I guess not. Obviously never going to buy the full size because it’s not magical or anything, but happy to have tried it.

Ate at this Mexican place Pulqueria in Chinatown that was pretty good. The location is pretty cool (very NYC out of a movie) and the inside is gorgeous. The food? Pretty decent! All in all, nothing to write home about but definitely worth remembering if you’re in the neighborhood.

Got some ice cream at Taiyaki and it was the definition of plain-as-a-dick. Nothing special here.

Finally ate at Lilia in Brooklyn! Honestly, it was really great and I can’t wait to go back. I made Nathan get the spicy lamb fettuccine so that I could try it and I got the mafaldini with pink peppercorns. His was fantastic, but mine was only so-so (it was way too al dente) - I think I just ordered badly because everything else we had was incredible. They had this herbed focaccia with ramp butter special that blew our faces off. I’ve never heard of a bread special before and it’s a brilliant idea, more restaurants should do this, people go nuts for fancy bread (myself included). The cauliflower appetizer (with spicy soppressata, sicilian pesto & majoram) was amazing and the dessert soft-serve swirl was wild. I already know what I’m ordering next time: the sheeps milk cheese filled agnolotti with saffron, dried tomato & honey. The service was of course great, and the space itself is gorgeous. No idea it used to be an auto-repair shop. Is the pasta better at L’Artusi? I’ll have to order the agnolotti before I answer that question. One must be well informed before making such declarations.

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On my birthday, I took advantage of a free-facial offered from Smith & Brit in the city and it was beyond lovely. Claire (the owner) is such a fantastic woman who really knows what she’s doing and she made it such a wonderful experience.

I also took advantage of the free birthday brow arch they offer at all Benefit locations and whoa. I almost exclusively thread my eyebrows every few months, so I was excited to have them waxed for a change. I have pretty sensitive forehead skin, so I did have tiny bumps around my eyebrows for a few days afterward, but it still was worth it. They do an “eyebrow map” of how your eyebrows would best look and then wax them accordingly. And then they follow that with filling them in with Benefit products. I usually use a combination of Colourpop’s brow pencil and Milani’s waxier eyebrow pencil, but when she used the Benefit eyebrow gel wand, I was floored at how much fuller they looked. Really considering buying the mini and seeing if I can achieve that same look. Look how full!

Above Photo: Excuse the horrifying closeness of the above photo

I tried both 2019 birthday gifts from Sephora and Ulta, and talked about both of them here.

I watched all of Shrill in one evening and I can’t imagine not watching it that way. It’s perfect. I can’t stop playing this song on repeat, WHY IS IT ONLY ONE MINUTE? Other thoughts: I had no idea that the morning-after pill doesn’t work for women over 175 pounds, that’s insane!? The mother/daughter storyline is so well done it hurts. ALL of the outfits on pretty much every single woman are so fucking lovely. I rewatched that one part with the woman in red walking and buying flowers over and over it just made me so happy, I can’t describe why. And the pool party episode? I may have sobbed through some of it, and not in a sad way but in a cathartic way. It just made me feel so many things at once. Mostly about how sometimes you feel invisible if you’re self conscious or self-loathing about your body, and you feel like you don’t matter unless you fit into this idea of what you think people expect you to look like and how if you don’t fit into that, then you’re essentially a worthless piece of garbage, so you treat yourself that way on a daily basis. And how this type of thinking can last you a lifetime because it’s all you’ve allowed yourself to believe for years and years. There are so many ways that a person can feel inadequate or less than, and it’s so internally normalized because you truly believe that you’re not good enough and you never will be. It’s a depressing way to live and so many women especially live this way, myself included obviously. So that whole episode really just felt like a fucking dream of a reality. I really hope there will be more episodes of the series, I’ve never related to a television show more in my life.

I tried the watermelon makeup wipes from Sephora and even though they smell amazing, they don’t take off all of your makeup. Pass. The Avon one is still my all-time favourite.

I tried the cleansing pads from First Aid Beauty and they’re tingly, fun and great. Perfect alternative for when you don’t feel like washing your face. I don’t know if that’s their intent, but that’s how I’m using them.

Nathan’s second album came out on iTunes! Buy it! Love it! Or not! Do you!

I’ve been having trouble sleeping and one thing that has helped? Taking a hot shower before bed. Is this such common knowledge that I’m a moron? Maybe. In any case, very happy to have learned this.

Started and finished watching the final season of Broad City and it was really, really good. I always forget how good this show is. I wish it existed when I was a teenager.

Practically in LUST with Trader Joe’s Everything But The Bagel Seasoning. I’m so late to this party, but at least I finally got there. I’ve only even tried it on top of some buttered bread and I was floored at how good it is.

Can’t stop rewatching all the old Ready or Not episodes on YouTube. Also, Degrassi Junior High.

You know how sometimes you have irrationally dumb opinions on things you know nothing about? That was me with dry shampoo. I didn’t really understand it. Also, I thought it was exclusively for white women, I don’t know why? Obviously I tried some (this Amika one) and I mean… it’s kind of spectacular. I maybe shouldn’t have discovered it because I might never wash my hair again.

I visited the Everlane store in Soho (because apparently YouTube ads really do work on me) and even though it’s beautifully minimalist, it’s way too overpriced.

Tried the pizza at Lions & Tigers & Squares Detroit Pizza and it was really good. They don’t offer single slices, but it’s the perfect place to go with someone to split one. So in love with Detroit style lately. (Also, can I accept world-wide-credit for the massive amounts of pepperoni pieces you’re seeing on pizzas these days?! I’ve been ordering triple-pepperoni-well-done pizzas for DECADES and I’ve been harshly judged endlessly because of it and LOOK AT WHERE WE ARE NOW! Full credit.)

Above Photo: Pepperoni pizza from Lions & Tigers & Squares, NYC

The penultimate episode of this season of This Is Us was wildly good. There was so much relatable couple stuff, it’s so hard to even get into if you didn’t see the episode/don’t care about the show, but if you did? Email me. I could talk about it for an hour, it was so well done. It’s essentially about the give and take in a relationship and about how it’s rarely equal, and man… so, so well done. Loved every minute.

Remember how I tried and liked Bumble & Bumble’s Thickening Spray? Well, I still do but definitely don’t spray it on your roots, it works much better if you use it sparsely on the rest of your hair when damp. Maybe that’s already obvious but I’m very new to using any hair products, so forgive my stupidity.

SO excited for Jenny Slate’s new book.

I went to Beacon’s Closet for the first time and whoa. I didn’t find anything I loved, but it’s definitely one of those places you should stop in every once in awhile to see what’s there. The space is a little overwhelming, but the things that I’ve seen people get from there are gorgeous and so inexpensive.

I tried to find my colour in the Fenty collection of concealers and nothing matched, but it’s not a huge deal since I’m happy with the NARS one I’ve been using. And speaking of concealers, Colourpop just released their own and they were kind of good?? Again, I still prefer the NARS one, but the Colourpop one is actually kind of good, especially for being $6.

Finally ate at Raclette and I don’t think I’ll be returning. There are basic rules for making a good grilled cheese. I mean, I’m no scientist but you should be able to hold up the sandwich. And that just didn’t happen here. I had to use a knife and fork, which is… sad. Astoria Bier & Cheese understands these rules and still remains the best place to go if you’re in the mood for one.

I accidentally tried smoked salmon for the first time and it was really good, who the hell knew? Apparently everyone but me. I’ve never ordered it because I really only fake-like cooked salmon, so why the hell would I like it uncooked or *shudder* smoked? Also, it looks so gross! I should’ve known better though because it’s almost always true that if something looks gross, it probably tastes amazing. That’s a thing, yeah?

I tried samples (because I own a million fucking samples of every cream on planet earth) of Kiehl’s avocado eye cream and passssssss. It left my under eyes crazy red and zombie-like, so never again.

Bought a new white living room carpet from Carpet Factory Outlet on the Upper East Side and it was so cheap and great, have to keep this place in mind.

Absolutely hate this Tarte mascara, it stays on your lashes for days after you think you’ve washed it off and I don’t know why anyone would want that.

Since I’ll forever love Trader Joe’s, we tried the new broccoli and kale pizza crust and it’s even better than the cauliflower crust that we love. This one also doesn’t burn as easily in the oven as the cauliflower one, so I think this is the new favourite.

There’s a new flavour of banana pudding at Magnolia Bakery: chocolate hazelnut. It was sold out when I tried to get it, but I did get a sample and yikes. Obviously it’s the greatest.

Ate at Al Di La in Brooklyn and it was not fantastic. Their version of “gnocchi” was confusing and 1000% too spinachy. The tagliatelle al ragu (below) was obviously good, but, like, it’s so hard to fuck that up.

Above Photo: Tagliatelle Al Ragu at Al Di La, Brookyn, New York

Found this lovely-as-hell store in Park Slope, Habit. Literally everything felt and looked beautiful. In love with this one specific brand they had.

Went to a Mortified show with Harmeet who was visiting me, and it was good! We only stayed for the first half because honestly my feet hurt and we were standing and I think we both just decided, “Yeah, we get it… we’re good” and then went to Ample Hills Creamery around the corner. Love it when friends decide to leave an event early together for something more fun, not enough people do this.

FINALLY made it to Daily Provisions. Maple cruller? Heavenly. Everything-bagel-flavoured croissant injected with cream cheese? Delightful. Danny Meyer continues to do no wrong. Favourite breakfast place in Union Square.

Above Photo: Maple Cruller from Daily Provisions, Union Square, New York City

Still very much in love with this song, and as I was listening to it one day I started reading the comments as I was listening and this one YouTube comment… my god. So sweet. Maybe parts of it are definitely corny or too much or something, but my god, in the moment, I loved it:

“I heard this song when I woke up un-groggy for the first time after an abortion. It was the first time I heard it. And riding in the car beside my Mom, who had been pro-choice her entire life until the moment she was staring that decision right in the face, both of us were silent the entire song. Through every lyric, it was as if Sara had written a eulogy of my life. Everything we had been through, everything I had suffered. Everything I had seen. Every time I had to grow up sooner than I should have. Everything I had to push to the back of my mind so I didn’t lose myself completely. Everything surfaced through these lyrics. This will just be another comment lost among this thread. But if someone happens to read it - if someone who NEEDS to see this comment see’s it - know that things will always be better. TIME HEALS ALL. Even if it seems as though no one would care if you were gone. Even if it seems as though you have no purpose in this world. YOU MATTER. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes you have made. It doesn’t matter how many times you have sworn to God “you’d change” if he just forgave you for this one mistake. Hell. Even if you don’t believe in God. If you don’t know what to believe, if you’re lost, if you don’t know what to do - just keep going. Keep doing. Keep moving in any direction that is away from the heartache and pain that keeps you tied down. Let go of the past. Let go of the fear and hurt your heart endures on a daily basis. Just keep living. Keep going. Forgive. Never forget. Learn from your mistakes. Better yourself. Live for you. Find your happiness. Love unconditionally. Live.” — Shelby Grimm

Went to Momofuku Noodle Bar for the second time and it was so much better than the first time. I also ordered better. The chilled spicy noodles with sichuan sausage, thai basil & cashews (shown below) were incredible and I tried some of the broth of the spicy beef ramen that Harmeet ordered and holy shit, it was good. I’m still too… not into the idea of ramen, but that broth was fucking nuts. ALSO, their dessert special (caramelized white chocolate pie with hazelnut and puffed rice was F-U-C-K-I-N-G memorable (also below). Christ.

Above Photo: Chilled Spicy Noodles from Momofuku Noodle Bar, NYC

Above Photo: Caramelized White Chocolate Pie from Momofuku Noodle Bar, NYC

A few months ago I got dinner at Pil Pil on the Upper East Side and since it was good, I stopped in there for lunch recently and it’s probably the best lunch I’ve had in that area for sure. There’s a $4 happy hour sangria special and their lamb sliders are incredible. The fries are maybe my favourite restaurant fries in the city, they’re so crispy and drizzled with this spicy aioli and they also have a chocolate-hazelnut dessert cake that is unbelievable. I know it sounds like I love everything everywhere, but I swear I don’t.

There is a place in NYC where you can rent out really nice digital cameras for 24 hours FOR FREE and no one knows about it (the only hiccup is that you need to have state-issued ID). Sony Square is a “public space committed to showcasing innovations in products, music, movies and gaming” - which essentially means that every few weeks they change up their aesthetic to showcase new Sony products, but the camera-rental service is an always-available option. Insanely cool thing to offer.

Found amazingly soft and comfortable leggings (cheap too!) at Aerie (thank you Marla!) that I will exclusively buy from now on. (No more trash Aritzia leggings that disintegrate every three months!) Bought some of their workout pants too that have pockets (!) that were incredibly soft, too.

I saw the movie Us and really liked it. Mostly because yeah, it’s a good movie. But also because IT’S AN ORIGINAL MOVIE. I’m so sick of remakes and superhero movies that I love it when movies like this get made. I know it’s classified as a horror movie, but it’s not really, in my opinion. Plus I love when you finish watching a movie and you want to come home immediately and research as much about it as possible. It’s good, go see it!

Harmeet and I went to Manhatta for lunch (because apparently I have a Danny Meyer obsession) and it exceeded all expectations. First of all, it’s not crazy expensive despite the fact that it’s in the fucking sky (60th floor). We got the mushroom soup, the scotch snails with pork sausage in garlic butter and the French onion burger and everything was amazing. Service was perfect. Views are insane. Perfect place to take someone who’s visiting, especially for lunch. Will definitely go back.

Above Photo: View from Manhatta, NYC

Above Photo: Harmeet! In all her beauty!

Above Photo: French Onion Burger from Manhatta, NYC

Lastly, I watched the Leaving Neverland documentary on HBO. I also watched all the episodes of Surviving R. Kelly. I watched both of these within a few days and I don’t recommend anyone viewing all of these things in such a short amount of time unless you want to cry endlessly and (irrationally? Or understandably?) loathe an entire gender for a few days. And look, if you know anything about me, you know what a huge fan I am of Michael Jackson. From his music to the connection of meeting Nathan, I’ve forever loved this man in the way that all of his fans love him. For years I would think (and sometimes, ugh, say) “I don’t know that man personally. I don’t want to know about his personal life. I can’t judge him if I don’t know him.” And I’d say these things as a way of deflecting from the fact that I didn’t want those beautiful songs tarnished in my mind, as dumb as that sounds. And in an extremely similar way, I acted the same with R. Kelly. I didn’t WANT to take “When A Woman Loves” off of my iPod for years because I didn’t want to believe someone who could sing so beautifully could be some kind of monster, which makes zero sense but seems like a rational thought to people who still don’t believe these victims. The way that we worship these artists/abusers, without actually knowing anything about them (or sometimes knowing complete details of their abuse), wanting them to continue to achieve success no matter what the cost, is so unhealthy and odd and is part of a larger culture that is already designed to idolize anyone with status or more money than us. I didn’t want to watch Neverland. I knew it’d be bad. I only took down my Woody Allen poster in my childhood bedroom last year (to be fair, I don’t live there, but this should’ve happened years ago). I rarely spoke up in favor of these men, but I did stay silent when they were discussed because that was easier to do and basically what most everyone else was doing and made it feel acceptable, which is awful. I feel horrible that it took this many years for victims to be believed and it makes me sick that I’m apart of the group of people who made it impossible for victims to be heard. As hard as these things were to watch, I think they’re wildly important to see.

This one part from Surviving R. Kelly sums up one of the problems so well.

“Our society tends to compartmentalize the things we don’t want to look at, and magnifies and glorifies the things that we do. For example, if an individual is providing something to the society as music, cinema, politics - we’re more likely to compartmentalize the negative behavior and minimize it, as a way of accepting what they’re contributing.”

Jesus, a lot happened in March. Excited for April! Some upcoming things that you can expect in next month’s post: I’m going to start taking collagen (I’ve heard it helps hair growth), a family trip to Niagara Falls, a Best of Astoria post & thoughts on the new Twilight Zone. Hello, April!

[smhtaehyung]

when all daisies disappear🌼 | chapter 2

cr.

• masterlist

• Pairing: taehyung x OC (mental hospital au)

• Genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, romance

• Word count: 2.8k

• Warning: will contain themes such as suicidal thoughts, depression and physical violence. Some of the backstory for Taehyung’s character is taken from the BTS concepts during the hyyh era. if you feel uncomfortable with the topic of mental illness, I advise you not to read further.

•••

chapter 2 ➸ 496 🌼

"I like your paintings." He complimented me, observing my room. "Sure. Okay." I said in a confused manner whilst writing a copy of the schedule about the meals, medication and group activities for him. "You can't just say thanks to people?" He asked, giggling a bit as he showed his smile for the first time. His smile was incredibly boxy, it did not seem like any other smile, making me slightly puzzled. ”No.” I coldly answered. “Thanks for copying that schedule for me.” He said as he stood by the bed. ”I’m only doing it because I have a feeling you’d fuck it up and then I’d be my fault.” I said as I took a red sharpie and underlined the important hours. “Well, thanks, anyway.” He said in a bright tone and looked down. The way his mood switched from bright to cold and enigmatic, confused me. By then, I was already analysing him hard. Was he bipolar? Socially anxious? What is the reason he’s here? I think I questioned myself more than I did him. Why was he so intriguing? I ignored him and continued copying. After a few seconds of silence I glanced at him up and down, noticing he was still standing. “Aren’t you gonna sit? It’s annoying me.” I said in a harsh tone. “I’m good as of like this for now.” “You’re good as of like that? Don’t you mean you’re good as of right now? Are you that poor of a talker? The shrinks are not gonna love you really-” I started slightly provoking tone but he cut me off. “Why are you so mean and defensive?” He asked in a slight chuckle that confused and frustrated me at the same time. He didn’t  care about my opinion or insults, which both infuriated and intrigued me.  “Why did you pick me then?” I directly asked. “I like to be challenged.” He said in a bright tone. “Jesus.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. After about 20 seconds he whispered to me. "Do you want one?" He shyly, yet kindly asked, pointing a plastic bag of chocolate candy to me, but actually the only thing I noticed were his tanned hands.

"No. Why can’t you just shut up?" I gave him the judging look again. He took one for himself, quietly unwrapping it and putting it in his mouth. My eyes were focused on his plump lips and a tongue that swirled over the piece of chocolate. My mind was overthinking his simple offer. He distracted me a lot by doing all that. And I didn't know how to feel about it. On one hand, it was extremely random and kind of adorable and on the other hand, it was extremely annoying and stupid.Jiyu softly knocked on the door and peeked her head in. Her beautiful white teeth shone through my eyes. “Taehyung, sweety, It’s time to meet your psychologists.” She softly spoke with a smile. He gave a reassuring half genuine smile and walked over to her. “Ugh, sweety.” I scoffed, mocking Jiyu’s words. “I heard you Ji.” She teased me in a serious tone. I shook my head. “Ji. That’s a cute nickname. I’m gonna call you Ji.” Taehyung suddenly spoke. “I’ll knock your teeth in if you do that.” I said, focusing on the paper in front of me. ”Jia!” Jiyu scolded me with her tone at the same time Taehyung spoke “Deal.” I slightly chuckled and rolled my eyes. Taehyung, walked past Jiyu as she scolded me with her look. After a few seconds, I finished the copy and put it on his nightstand. I wandered around the room, trying to think about how should I act towards him. He made me question my character and personality so much. I did not know why did I feel a need to act nice towards him. Once my thoughts were way too loud, I kneeled and pulled the drawer out of the old wooden nightstand, finding a secret department where I hid my cigarettes. I was on my way to the only peaceful place here, somewhere I wasn’t as bitter and fucked up as everyone thought I always was. Somewhere where my childhood and pure like character was kept all along, at least in that one last fragile fragment of my brain. I went outside of the room, adjusting my cardigan right. I held my cigarettes and a lighter under my sleeve as I sneaked my way down to the main hallway. I hurried past the reception to not get noticed and opened the last, 13th door, on the right side of the hallway. I walked up the staircase that was leading me to the roof. I stood on my tip toes to reach for the key that was hidden inside a pot with a dried and shrivelled orchids. I unlocked the door and walked up the few stone stairs that sent cold shivers through my shoes that missed their laces.I stared at the sky that was slowly growing more and more orange. I walked closer to the edge and sat down. I took of my shoes and pushed my feet out the gaps of the metal bars, keeping me from falling. I tried to lit a cigarette, escaping the wind. Even wind tried to stop me from smoking. Smoking since 12 years old never really gives you any sense that what you’re doing is stupid. Acting tough in front of people when you’re 19 is even worst. It’s so childish, just like Taehyung said it. I inhaled a smoke and shut my eyes, trying to stop my thoughts. Why am I thinking about you? Why are you so real, yet you seem like a dream? Why would I feel something for you, after going through so many roommates? Why do you answer me back when I don’t want you? Why do I only know you for less than a day yet you’re already one of the most annoying people I know.

Thinking about you only results in me overthinking myself. Am I really this clingy to people? Am I even feeling the need to be close to you, or just push you away the further I can? Am I finally feeling something, so it scares me to a point of overthinking what you, a boyish stranger, thinks of me.

I smoked away my thoughts until I was feeling numb. Staring at the sky I lit another one and tried to focus on the progressive coldness my skin was feeling every second passing by. After half an hour, that seemed like an entire day, I got up and put on my shoes as soon as the dark night plastered onto the clear sky and I couldn’t bear the coldness anymore in my light cardigan. I hid the key back to its place and walked down the stairs and onto the hallway. I walked right past the man hallway and entered back my ward. I walked down the hallway, observing the some ceiling lamps that were flickering. I stared at the lamp for a bit too long until my eyes started to hurt. I shook off my head and looked to my right where some of the girls of this wards were staring at me like most of the time. “What are you looking at?” I scoffed. “N-Nothing.” One of them said as they continued staring. “Well, will you stop then?” I asked in a pissed off tone as they stepped back, noticing I was aggressively walking towards them. They quickly walked away as I shook my head and walked past one of the psychiatrist’s office, noticing Taehyung was inside and already talking to one of the best out of the worst shrinks around here.I hesitated and stared. The state of perplexity washed over my entire body and mind. He did it again. He was sitting there with the most numb stare, yet raw emotions that gave that numbness a meaning. He wasn’t acting at all child-like or bright. He seemed rather sad and unresponsive to the treatment, like most of us yes, but seeing him like this made me question him even more. Why the act? Why is he acting so bright if he’s fucked up? Why did he build that defensive character?

His head moved to the left as for a quick second he saw me looking. I quickly turned and started to walk, even though he noticed it. “Ugh dumb.” I said to myself under my breath as I was walking. “Who?” One of the boys on the ward asked, hearing me speak. “You.” I immediately spat out, my act seeming normal to him and anyone who heard. I walked to my room and noticed a change. He unpacked his stuff and whole room smelled quite nice. All his things were set up neat and clean, making me wonder why was he acting that pedantic. Kind of petty in some aspects too. He didn’t move the copy of the schedule I left. It was on the same spot I left it. If you were to compare his and mine side of the room you'd be puzzled the same way I am. Such a white, tidy and minimalistic side of his compared to my expressive, colour stained and quiet messy side that screams out one of a kond character.

I think you'd be bewildered just like I am if you saw some weird things he decorated his side of the room with. From white ceramic figures and metal jelwery to white daisies. Why daisies? And why are there so many of them. Quite literally he filled a glass that's supposed to be for water, and put a lot of daisies inside, almost fully falling out of the glass. Daisies by the figurienes, daisies by his clothes, daisies tucked on the edge of the mattress, so they peak out, daisies in many small crystal vases that dominated all his cabinets and a night stand. Some daisies were even taped to the wall. There even was a small bouquet of daisies tied in a white ribbon that he left by the window we both shared, being the border between mine and his side.After confusedly observing the room, I heard the door open behind me. Taehyung went inside with an unreadable face. He casually sat on the bed as I stared around in a understable feeling of shock. "What the fuck?" I spoke. He gently moved his head up so his eyes could meet mine. "Why did you turn our room into a fucking flowershop?" I asked, pointing to all the daisies. "It's not that much. You're overreacting. I just really like daisies." He said and shrugged, his playful character slightly shining through. "Huh, that's a weird fetish." I teased him as I sat down. "It's not a fetish. It's more of a need." He said, making me even more puzzled. "You're addicted to daisies? That's why you're here?" I asked, making him sound really dumb. "No, you don't get it. It has to do with something personal, maybe I'll tell you, but I don't know-" he tried to speak but I cut him off. "I don't care, you do know that? It was a retorical question, you dumbass." I lied, shaking my head. "Sure you don't." He shortly giggled under his breath. "What's that supposed to mean?" I spoke in a intimidating tone but felt so scared to what he might thought. "You stared for quite a while." He said, smirking at me. Staring at me like that made my hands shake a little bit. "That's called being sedated. That's the only thing they're gonna give you here." I said, trying to switch the topic. "I don't think it's quite simple as that." He said, staring right through me. How could he read some parts of me so well already?

He got up and took his t-shirt and a pajama for sleeping, along with his stuff to wash himself. He was heading to the washroom down the hallway that the whole ward shared. I sat in silence, ignoring his last sentence. He slid through the gap of the door instead of opening it fully. It's no doubt this boy has a difficult mind to understand. I changed into my sleeping clothes. I put on my t-shirt, feeling the feshly soft fabric press against my skin, letting my arms breathe. My arms carried a story of a kind too, well actually only one arm. Its wrist carried a story that has been repeated a few times to reach for an unreachable pain relief. A break from everything. I've tried to die three times since being in here. Only once it was close, and It was last time. Seeing the people on his ward percieve me the way I show them my toughness, would only bring them a thought that I sometimes I too get manicly depressed and driven off the edge.

I snuggled under the puffy covers and turned off the light on my nightstand, not touching Taehyung's lamp. I felt myself drift off to sleep pretty quickly. As I was somewhere between the awake state and sleep, I heard Taehyung enter the room. Too tired to move, I laid almost asleep and carefully listened to his soft steps. He was so careful not to wake me up that it almost made me smile. He laid down and turned off the lamp the quietest way he could as he snuggled under the covers too and let out a light breath before drifting off to sleep. A very peaceful and unusual moment it was.

•••

The sound of light steps was replaced by a rushed voice from Jiyu to wake me up for my art activity program. "C'mon, Ji. Wake up." She said and softly nudged my arm. "Ugh, I'm coming." I said and opened my eyes, immediately turning my head to the right. Taehyung was not sleeping. He wasn't even in the room. His bed has been perfectly made as I assumed he was already waiting for the art therapy. Jiyu exited the room once she saw me get up. I put on some random clothes, barely able to keep my eyes open. I sighed and went with my fingers through my bangs to brush them. I walked outside and looked to my left. I walked into the art activities room and immediately noticed Taehyung reading a letter.

Thursdays we get the mail, letters or any other kind of a dearly written document. But I decided roughly around 3 years ago to not look at them. Not open them. To me tgey always seemed so desperate and even more depressing. I don't accept visitation either. I wanted to build a life here, as miserable as that sounds, but building myself up (or down) like this, was a way for me to grow up. So all the letters are placed in the storage room with all the files, collecting dust. Taehyung smiled looking upon his letter, making me extremely curious. I walked over to him, to sit on the only seat that was not taken, opposite him. "Hey." He said with a bright smile. Somehow, I noticed it seemed fake because that's wasn't how his real smile looked like. But why did I remember that detail about him? There's no doubts he was an interesting man to observe. Only observe. Because he's so frustrating as a person and mysterious, so there's no doubt that people wouldn't be drawn to him. Even me."Who sent you a letter that makes you act all weird about it?" I asked in a disgusted tone. He sent me a teasingly judgemental look before speaking. "Oh, It's from my girlfriend." He said it casually with a soft smile, staring into my eyes. You know, there are words that make your heart sink just like that, but feeling that way made me question why was I feeling that, right in that moment, and why so sudden. And why him? Why does my heart feel like this? And why do I even keep his soft steps in my mind? Could a person influence you this much in such a short time?

"What's it say?" I nervously asked, leaning over. He folded the letter in half and put it in his pocket. "You're very nosy." He commented. "It's my girlfriends letter. So It's private." He said, still keepig his hands in his pockets. "Of course you have a girlfriend." I mumbled under my breath, somehow feeling that was predictable about him. He was a handsome young man who had an idiot like personality that had its own charm so why wouldn't girls fall for him? "You roll your eyes a lot." He spoke, smiling at me. "Only because you annoy me." I said when our therapy teacher handed us the smooth papers. "You're annoyed I have a girlfirend or-" He tried to speak but out of fear I cut him off. "You wish." I scoffed and took a pencil out of the old metal can.

What's something so interesting about that letter that he keeps staring at it? What could his girlfriend possibly say?

part 3

[arplis]

Arplis - News: Emily Bowser, back with that bathroom I promised you in my bedroom reveal last week (catch up: intro here, makeover here)

SO! Welcome to my airplane-sized bathroom. Okay, that’s a little obnoxious to say. I’m sure plenty of people live with smaller bathrooms. Let’s call it economic? My whole house is very economic. There isn’t one space that isn’t used. There’s no “bust through this wall and use that empty space between the bathroom and hall closet,” because that space is where the fridge is in the kitchen. The closest during this renovation that we got to adding space was when we took out two closets in order to make our bedroom big enough to fit our bed AND a dresser, but even then, we lost two closets! I’m here to talk about how we completely renovated without (completely) breaking the bank and got creative with what we had to work with, both with $$ and space. This room is a total #ipaidforthis inside and out! Let’s get into it! First, I thought it would be helpful to show the layout oft he house, since, after the last blog post, there were a handful of curious commenters: Neither the home nor the cats are to scale above, but it does the trick. As you can see above, this is the one and only (teeny) bathroom in the house. Side note: Kudos to Sara, who was somehow able to take pictures of this space because apparently I could NOT. I didn’t take these pictures thinking that they would be on a blog for a lot of people to see one day so my apologies, they are crooked and dark and not terribly in focus. The bathroom is off our hall and in the center of our home (read: no walls that face the outside). You may be surprised by this because isn’t that a window? Why, yes it is! A window that looks directly into our laundry room! The original home didn’t have the master bedroom or the laundry room (“room” may be an overstatement). We think the laundry room may have been a small porch because the door that leads to it from the kitchen appears to be original. The laundry room is very small, however, on one wall there is a window and a door that has a window in it so a lot of light comes in. The bathroom window is directly across from that wall so the light goes through the laundry room and lights up the bathroom pretty nicely. The window is made of obscure glass, so you can’t see through it and even though it’s not particularly pretty, I made the decision right away to keep it because it was a natural light source. Side note here that there are SO many decisions you have to make right away when you are doing a bigger renovation like we were. If you are a person who likes a lot of time to think things through and talk them out, this part may be particularly hard on you. The reason being, once demo starts, you better know what’s getting knocked out because if you change your mind later, it will cost you and for sure, there will be things you hadn’t thought of or things that come up because of the demo. The window staying or going was one of those things. The second reason I didn’t touch the window was because it was simply cheaper not to. In a perfect world, I think I would have taken the window out and done something creative along the top of the same wall, like a long and skinny window that was more interesting architecturally. That way the light could come in while giving me more wall space for a decent sized mirror and shelves. I don’t know, I didn’t let myself think about it too long because it wasn’t an option. Along these same lines, all of the plumbing fixtures, although we replaced all of them, were kept in the same places so that we didn’t have the extra cost and also, WHERE ELSE COULD THEY GO? There are only so many options in a 32-square-foot space. About the Demo: As you can see, there was chair rail height tile that continued into the shower and I probably could have lived with it, I mean, with a toothbrush and bleach to the grout (which was a lovely shade of orange throughout). The floor tile is the same that was in the rest of the house. It was damaged, many of the tiles cracked and obviously it was something we weren’t going to invest in keeping. We were ripping the tile up off the floor anyway, so why not go ahead and rip the tile off the wall too? Turns out it was a good idea because there was a ton of mold hiding behind those tiles. We took out all the plumbing fixtures. The toilet here got moved to the back house because it needed a new toilet and if someone was getting a brand new toilet then IT WAS GONNA BE ME. The pedestal sink was also in fine condition but I wanted to try to find something that would have even a little bit of storage. I gave the sink to my contractor and he used it in one of his other personal projects. The tub was trashed unfortunately because of damage from the demo and the mold. For those of you who will for sure ask, I didn’t throw the vintage corner storage cabinet in the dump. No, I paid $100 for it to be fixed because I neeeeeded that storage and it fits perfectly in the small amount of space I have between the window and the wall. When the workers were installing, they somehow dropped and shattered it so my contractor sent it off to be fixed and I never heard about it ever again. When you owe someone $80,000 (if you don’t know why, you probably missed my “buying an income property” post, read that here), it is kind of hard to be like “YEAH BUT WHERE IS MY MIRROR, RON?!” On Choosing Finishes: Tile: As I discussed in the master makeover post, choosing tile was as simple as “what do I not hate that doesn’t cost a fortune?” Answer: subway tiles ($2.30/square foot) and black hex ($5/square foot). A little on the boring side? Kinda. Did I wish I could have afforded fancier tiles? At the time: yes. Now, I don’t know. My house is economic so I feel like it makes sense that the finishes are, too? I am one of those people that always picks out the most expensive thing in the store. My soul child is fancy AF (wallet, not so much). If I had been able to get whatever I wanted for this space, I feel like it wouldn’t have fit the house. I live in a box, one that doesn’t have a lot of architectural character, and the kinda boring finishes we ended up with make sense for the house, if that makes sense? I like it feeling more like a minimalist space whose character comes from the art or vintage pieces I bring into it. I wouldn’t have minded doing the same chair rail height tile situation again, because it makes cleaning up a bit easier and protects your walls from water (and let’s be honest, other bodily fluids) but I didn’t care enough about it to spend the money on the tile or the labor. I did tile the shower walls all the way up and onto the ceiling. I had lived in many a rentals and noticed what the constant condensation would do to the area right above the tiling in a shower. I’m glad I did it. Plumbing Fixtures:  First and foremost, I found a toilet, but not just any toilet. It’s the toilet of my dreams. Well, my economic dreams anyway. This toilet, hands down, is one of my favorite things about the house and I’m going to tell you why. I wish it was because it has a dual flush and therefore conserves water, but no, to me that’s just a bonus to the fact that IT DOESN’T HAVE THOSE WEIRD LEG THINGS THAT COLLECT PEE RESIDUE AND HAIR. This toilet is so easy to clean and I give it 5 stars based solely on that. It’s also not expensive. I will pay $299 (the price when I bought it) all day long to not have to get on my knees with my mouth all too close to the lid of the toilet, and awkwardly use my pointer finger through a rag to try to get in the crevices to remove bodily fluids that are most likely NOT MINE ANYWAY. Pro tip: buy all your fixtures and appliances during Black Friday sales. I even bought all my kitchen appliances and Home Depot waited to ship them out until I was ready for them. I have a funny story about the mental state of a person in the process of buying a house vs. that of one that OWNS the house. As I’ve mentioned in this post, I was in escrow from May until October of 2016. That’s a long time. It’s also fair to mention that I didn’t get to see the house much before we actually owned it. There was a renter here that was in the process of moving out so we couldn’t bother him. That said, the idealistic side of me that was excited about becoming a homeowner remembered the house very differently than the day after I actually owned it and saw it naked for the first time (the house, not me). The house was naked in that it wasn’t full of the renter’s stuff and it was naked metaphorically because the rose colored glasses I was wearing were suddenly more like a cheap pair of glasses, smudged and scratched, found in the bottom of an unused purse in the back of your closet. The reality of a $630,000 mortgage and an undetermined amount of money to be spent on the renovation changed my perception. Is this what they call buyer’s remorse? In the five months of being excited about being a homeowner, I did the thing you’re not supposed to do but couldn’t help myself: I bought stuff for a home I didn’t yet own. One of those things was a vintage dresser from the flea market that I wanted to turn into a sink for this bathroom. The dimensions of the dresser are 21.5” deep, 31” wide and 35.5” tall. What actually barely fits there: a sink that is 13” deep and 24” wide. Maybe that doesn’t seem like a lot but believe me, in real life, it is insane and laughable that I thought this piece of furniture (that now lives happily in my living room) would fit in this space. If you could see it you would understand me, as a person, fully. After realizing we definitely would not be able to use it (immediately), I had to pivot, quickly. There was no time for sourcing a very specific piece of vintage furniture. HELLOOO IKEA. We bought the Hagaviken sink with the Hemnes sink cabinet that we later painted my favorite green and changed out the knobs. The faucet is from Amazon and actually works great. They no longer sell the sink cabinet in the size we have, but they do have the Godmorgon which I honestly don’t know why I didn’t get. I would have much preferred to have a floating sink (easier to clean—sensing a theme??). I have a lot of opinions on this sink. It’s nice to have the storage. I fit a surprising amount of stuff in these two slim drawers. The depth of it would be fine if it were for a space where people just used it to wash their hands, a powder bath off your mudroom, for example. HOWEVER, washing your face is the most obnoxious process one could think of. I’m going to put this in the same box as “black floors” and “my cat, Puck”—they aren’t for everyone and by not for everyone I mean, “don’t have them unless you don’t mind cleaning, all the time” (we can talk about my cat Puck’s strange addictions in the comment section). Here follows my nightly routine: wash face, dry face with a small washcloth (kept in the top drawer of the sink, folded Marie Kondo style DUH), use used cloth to wipe down the top of the sink, the wall behind the sink, the front of the sink cabinet, the inside tops of the drawers, and finally, the floor. Every. Single. Day. I’m not kidding. You would think I was washing my face like a Clean & Clear ad from 1995—everything is soaked. There are two positives to this situation: 1. I dry my face with a clean towel every day which is good for your skin because of the bacteria that is on our everyday towels and 2. My sink and bathroom floor get a wipe down every day and therefore look cleaner throughout the week. *Rose colored glasses, put back on.* One of the only—maybe THE only—“must haves” on my husband’s buying-a-house list was that it had to have a tub. There was no budging on it. He’s a bather which I find slightly disgusting (because he doesn’t shower first or sometimes at all). But, whatever, he likes to do his creative thinking in a bath and doesn’t demand a lot, so a bath we would have! Plus, if we can ever afford children, a bathtub would be helpful. We bought basically the same tub that was in there, a run-of-the-mill alcove tub that we got somewhere in the valley for $300-ish. It’s 58” long, by 28.5” wide by 13” deep so a grown human can barely fit in it and have water covering them, but it gets the job done I guess. We put in two inserts for shampoo, soap and what have you and I’m very glad we did but I have a question: Am I supposed to put shelves in these things? They are entirely too tall. If I could do it again, I would make them a more reasonable size. In 2016, matte black plumbing fixtures were still weirdly hard to find and if you did find them, they were $$$. We ended up with this one in wrought iron and it was only $270 when we purchased it. I wasn’t stoked on it but I will say, it works well and we haven’t had any issues. This one is more modern and definitely what I would buy now. It’s also by Moen so I would assume also good quality and an even lower price point than the one we bought is now. Something else I wish we could have invested in is a matching tub drain, but alas, we used the stainless steel one that came with the tub. To shower door or not to shower door?? My contractor tried to convince me I needed a shower door and that water would go everywhere and it kinda does, but it was an extra expense and, you guessed it, impossible to keep clean. I bought a matte black tension rod, matte black shower rings, a hemp canvas shower curtain (hemp is antimicrobial and does better in moist climates) and a liner that has suction cups that *mostly* work to help any leakage onto the floor. All in all, it cost me $143 and saved me years of wiping down glass panels. Another positive to shower curtain vs. doors is that if you do have kids, it’s much easier to have the whole space open rather than having a glass wall in front of half of the tub. I can’t believe I have this much to say about 32 square feet! Moving on. Storage. If you will allow me to don my rose-colored glasses when the corner mirror was destroyed/disappeared, I had to make do, and as making-do usually does, I was inspired. I saw an opportunity in my window box (22”x22”x4.5” deep) to add shelves and create storage space. I simply bought a piece of wood and some smaller square wood dowels (0.5”x0.5”), cut the wood to the appropriate length, screwed the dowels in from the sides with 2 screws to hold the shelves and placed the shelves on top (with a little wood glue between to keep them from slipping). At first, I put a small tension rod with a sheer curtain over it so that I didn’t have to look at the clutter of misc bathroom stuff but I found that the stuff, along with the curtain, blocked too much of the light. While musing about it on Instagram stories, an acquaintance (shoutout Shadi!) told me I needed to just lose the curtain and make the things on it prettier and I took her advice. This meant I needed to decant and find some minimalist products that I wouldn’t mind looking at every day of my life. In my search, I found Public Goods which has the most simple packaging and simple ingredients to match. I figured if I didn’t like the products, I could just reuse the packaging because at their price point, it was just as, if not cheaper, than doing a run to The Container Store. Turns out, I do like most of their products (I have a lot) and no, they did not pay me to say that and yes, we can talk about it in the comments. All of the things on “display” are things I use most, if not every day. A great thing about having limited storage is that it’s hard to keep stuff you don’t really want to have. The little containers with cork are Saxborga and the glass container holding my reusable bamboo cotton rounds is H&M Home (similar). I decanted mouthwash into the Korken from IKEA, pulled obnoxious labels off of my nail polish remover, and even decanted ibuprofen. My husband shaves his head and he always needs a mirror to see the back of his head and he somehow misplaces them?? It’s a mystery. My pretty way of solving this problem was to buy a vintage mirror with a handle and a hook for the wall so I never have to hear “WHERE IS THE MIRROR??” ever again. No room for towel bars (at least not if you want art!), but these Turkish towels dry fast so hooks are just fine. I regret not thinking about lighting in this space. If you don’t specify things, contractors will always do the standard without asking. I came over one day and he had installed recessed lights, one in the shower area and one in the middle of the wall, closer to the window. If I had been thinking before they closed all the walls up I would have had them run electrical over the mirror, but alas. The recessed lights are SO bright and my husband and I are both super sensitive to bright lights. We retroactively put dimmers almost everywhere and will here eventually but immediately upon moving in, out of necessity, threw these string lights up from Target (similar) and they have just kinda stayed. The naked lady art was $20 from the Melrose Trading Post and came framed (WIN). The wood frame was also a welcome addition to the other wood/warm accents throughout the space. We bought a perfectly small wooden stool from a local neighborhood store (here’s a similar one in two sizes) so that he would have a surface to put a book, a candle, a mug of hot tea or whatever else he needs for his romantic tub time alone. The smaller art is MaryAnn Puls framed in a Ribba from IKEA. I was toilet paper holder-less for over a year before I found this maker on Etsy and I’m glad I did. Let’s talk about clean butts. Pretty sure that’s the only time that’s been said on this blog. If you have a keen eye, you will notice that I own a Tushy. I wanted to take the opportunity to give a review of their product. I became obsessed with bidets when I moved into my grandmother’s house for a year to plan my wedding 10 years ago. She had a Toto and you could say that there was the Emily before she lived with a Toto and the Emily after. For bidet aficionados, you know that the Toto is the top-of-the-line bidet. They range from $500-$2,000 so you can see why this bidet had me second-guessing if I really should get married and move out of my grandmother’s home. In truth, there were MANY things about my grandmother’s home that made me never want to leave, but the bidet was up there on that list. 2010-2018 are considered the dark years for me. The years I lived without waking up in the middle of the night to a welcoming warm seat on a cold night, years without the confidence that I was squeaky clean no matter what time of the month it was (PERIOD POSITIVE OVER HERE). Then, Erik (upholstered-my-headboard-while-I-watched Erik) got a Tushy and told me I should, too. With the low price point of $69 for the non-heated (water, not the seat) and $99 for the heated, I opted for the heated. Here is what I have to say about my purchase: I love having a bidet and I 100% would buy it again. However, I would buy the $69 model because the water never really does heat on the other model unless you run your sink water until it gets hot, which is a huge waste of water. One knob would also be easier to clean than two. The place where the bidet connects to your seat is very hard to clean, let’s just say my cleaning supplies for this product includes a Q-tip. So this should be thrown into the box of things to pass over if you’re not a clean freak. However, if you don’t mind a little extra cleaning, are a firm believer that showering every day is probably not good for your sebaceous glands but still want your underbits fresh, want to conserve toilet paper use, this is a good product for you. Unless you can afford a Toto. I can’t give you accurate labor cost because everything in my house was happening at the same time and my contractor didn’t break it down by room, unfortunately. But here is a breakdown of all the things in the bathroom (rounded up): ***photography by Sara Ligorria-Tramp Don’t miss other posts in this series: Makeover Takeover: How EHD Stylist Emily Bowser Tackled Her Awkward Master Bedroom | Reveal: Emily Bowser’s Bedroom “After” is Unrecognizable From the “Before” | DIY How-To: A Step-by-Step for Making Emily B.’s Wrap-Around Velvet Headboard   The post MOTO Reveal: Emily Bowser’s 32-Square-Foot Bathroom Is Packed With Small Space Hacks appeared first on Emily Henderson. #Makeover #Reveal #Makeovers #Bathroom #Moto

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/emily-bowser-back-with-that-bathroom-i-promised-you-in-my-bedroom-reveal-last-week-catch-up-intro-here-makeover-here-1

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 28th April 2019 (Jonas Blue, Lil Dicky, Rita Ora)

Top 10

We have a couple new arrivals this week, but the biggest story is still how this song clings on to the top spot, as “Old Town Road” by Lil Nas X featuring Billy Ray Cyrus still at number-one for a second week, and both the meme and constant discussion surrounding the song continue to spread to the point where it’s a cultural phenomenon.

The rest of the top 10 is incredibly less interesting. “Piece of Your Heart” by MEDUZA and Goodboys is up two spaces to number-two. It could make a play for the top.

Lewis Capaldi’s “Someone You Loved” is also down a spot to number-three.

Down one position from last week is Billie Eilish’s “bad guy” at number-four.

Tom Walker’s “Just You and I” isn’t moving at number-five.

Avicii’s posthumous hit “SOS” featuring vocals from Aloe Blacc has boosted up six spaces to number-six, becoming Avicii’s first ever posthumous Top 10, as well as his tenth Top 10 in general, and Aloe Blacc’s third.

Up a spot from last week is the Jonas Brothers with “Sucker” at number-seven.

Russ (Splash) and Tion Wayne’s “Keisha & Becky” stabilises its spot at number-eight, down a spot from last week.

Elevating a single space from recent controversy is “Here with Me” by Marshmello and CHVRCHES at number-nine.

At #10, to round off our top 10, is “Talk” by Khalid, up a space and returning to the top 10.

Climbers

Wiley’s “Boasty” featuring verses from Stefflon Don, Sean Paul and Idris freakin’ Elba is up five spaces to #12, whilst “All Day and Night” by EUROPA featuring Madison Beer enters the top 20 at #14, up eight spaces from last week, becoming the first top 20 hit for EUROPA as a group, as well as Jax Jones’ seventh, Martin Solveig’s third as well as Beer’s first ever (Congratulations). Other than that, “Pretty Shining People” by George Ezra is up nine spots to #25, and his other song “Shotgun” is up seven to #30, so there must have been some sort of boost to the album sales, but generally, that’s all we have.

Fallers

We have a few more of these, or at least it seems these songs are more notable. “Giant” by Calvin Harris and Rag ‘n’ Bone Man finally gets its streaming cuts due to dumb UK chart rules and is down 10 positions to #16, whilst “Boy with Luv” by BTS featuring Halsey collapses 16 spaces down to #29 as K-pop always does, “Disaster” by Dave featuring J Hus is down six spaces to #33, whilst “wish you were gay” by Billie Eilish as well as “MONOPOLY” by Ariana Grande and Victoria Monet seem prepared for a premature exit, down 11 and 10 spots respectively to #37 and #40.

Dropouts & Returning Entries

I’m going to assume YNW Melly has had his streaming cut as “Murder on My Mind” is completely out of the Top 75 after dropping out from #38. Speaking of, “Options” by NSG and Tion Wayne has very unfortunately dropped out from #23 due to this dumb chart rule, which directly affects certain genres, i.e. urban music like hip hop and R&B (as well as EDM, for that matter) that is boosted prominently from streaming, from never having any longevity and not becoming as big as hits on the year-end than they deserve. “Options” would have been locked if it weren’t for this rule, as I think it would have lasted many more weeks. The other drop-out is from Ariana Grande and it’s “break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored” from #39.

NEW ARRIVALS

#39 – “Carry On” – Kygo and Rita Ora

Produced by Kygo and Afsheen – Peaked at #8 in Norway

Yes! I finally get to talk about Pokémon! I know what you’re thinking, what? Why? It’s just Rita Ora collaborating with some massive EDM producer like she always does, and while you’re right, it’s for the Detective Pikachu film, which isn’t currently out but I am going to see it at some point. I’m excited to hear this soundtrack as well, although I’m not exactly expecting Kygo and Rita Ora to deliver anything particularly good, or interesting, or Pokémon-related for that matter. Pokémon songs for the anime films have never directly related to the film plots, though, and usually were kind of boring, motivational songs with very vague lyrics, which is understandable as they had to be rushed out every single year. Anyway, this is Kygo’s seventh Top 40 hit and Rita Ora’s 21st, which is impressive, and is it any good? No. Of course it isn’t, and I’m mostly indifferent on this tasteless drivel that EDM producers put out in general with female pop singers where it sounds like the singers have been artificially sped-up, with mixing that’s overly-drowned in reverb and an instrumental as dry as clay years after it is first moulded. The piano melody here isn’t bad, but it isn’t unique and doesn’t carry Rita Ora’s incredibly weak hook, and in general her performance here sucks, like that random “Woo!” she adds in that pauses the song entirely just to halt his momentum, to add nothing at all! There’s barely a real drop here, so it just feels like a constant onslaught of nothingness and high-pitched vocal samples, which I somewhat like for its effort not to make a club banger but rather a tropical house ballad straight out of the dregs of 2016, and it’s not the last new arrival we have that does that here, but this is the only one I’ll talk about in this episode, more on that later. Anyways, this isn’t worth much analysis. It’s dreadfully boring but it’s not exactly long and doesn’t overstay its presence for THAT long, I suppose, it’s just disappointing for a soundtrack that is supposed to provide the music for what is looking out to be a film full of personality with actors oozing charisma. I’m looking out for the Sonic the Hedgehog film’s soundtrack a bit more now, albeit just for the novelty of a Dr. Robotnik cover of “Gangsta’s Paradise”. Next.

#27 – “No Diet” – Digga D

Produced by Ghosty

Digga D is a UK drill artist, as most of the rappers we see on the charts are in 2019. I’ve only vaguely heard of him before, so I think it’s safe to assume that the extreme marketing for the song involving a lot of different companies and individuals, including Mixtape Madness, is what landed this on the charts as Digga D’s first top 40 hit, as well as the video which is about trafficking crack cocaine in Coca-Cola cans... sure. Anyway, is the song itself any good? Well... the beat is incredibly minimalistic like most UK drill, with just an ominous piano line as the backing for a skittering hi-hat and bass-heavy trap beat – those 808s, by the way, are pretty insane. Digga D isn’t really saying anything of interest or anything different than the other guys, but the beat is good enough to carry him a lot of the time, and I love his weird sounds he uses for the ad-libs. It reminds me of a British Migos, where instead of repeating the line, he just makes unintelligible nonsense words and stutters. The singing on the second verse is pretty janky in relative to when it appears in the verse, and while Genius says this and the supposedly playful lyrics are what sets it apart, I don’t see the juxtaposition here, I just think it’s kind of surreal in how bipolar this song feels. There’s an ominous, eerie and menacing beat, violent and braggadocious lyrics from Digga, and then a bunch of silly, humorous ad-libs over it. This song has an identity crisis first and foremost, and while we’re at it...

#24 – “Earth” – Lil Dicky

Produced by benny blanco and Cas—

Nope. No, sorry, not touching this one. I appreciate what it’s doing for charity but I have a LOT to say about this song and trust me, it is not overwhelmingly positive, so, no, I’m not covering this one, at least not like this, and not right now. I might do a full-length review at some point but I think it’s much more likely that I talk about this at the end of the year, if you get the gist. For now, to replace an actual review, let me just list the guest stars, because technically, this is a song by Lil Dicky featuring Justin Bieber, Ariana Grande, Halsey, Zac Brown of his eponymous band, Brendan Urie of Panic! at the Disco, common fungus Hailee Steinfeld, Wiz Khalifa and Snoop Dogg, Kevin Hart as Kanye West, Adam Levine of Maroon 5, Shawn Mendes, Charlie Puth, Sia, Miley Cyrus, Lil Jon, Rita Ora, Miguel, Katy Perry, Lil Yachty as an STD, Ed Sheeran, Meghan Trainor, mother-father gentleman PSY, professional basketball player Joel Embiid, Tory Lanez, John Legend, Bad Bunny, Kris Wu, Leonardo DiCaprio and the entirety of the Backstreet Boys. Does that count as a review for Lil Dicky’s second UK Top 40 single? I don’t care, I’ll talk about in length when I want to. Trust me, I’m planning ahead.

#23 – “What I Like About You” – Jonas Blue and Theresa Rex

Produced by Jonas Blue – Peaked at #1 in Belgium

Oh, yeah, this, okay, well, Jonas Blue exists, I guess, and I’m supposed to review everything he puts out because everything this dude makes charts... and sucks. I don’t really have a problem with the dude, but nothing he makes is all that interesting, and he’s the epitome of carelessly generic EDM and dance-pop. This particular track features vocals from Theresa Rex, Danish pop singer who you won’t know by name and she doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page, but you will know the voice of from “Solo Dance” years back, which she had uncredited vocals on (I’m glad they stopped not crediting the vocalists on EDM tracks, especially since, you know, they do all the heavy lifting in terms of singing). The production here is pretty tropical, I guess, with some handclaps and a weak synth drop that has a few orchestral stabs to replace any unique instrumentation. None of the vocal melodies catch on yet and I’d much prefer “Solo Dance” to this. What else am I supposed to say? I know I’ve taken the easy way out with these two songs, but honestly we’re at a standstill in the charts right now where it should really be more interesting than it is.

Conclusion

Even if I didn’t review it, I don’t care, Lil Dicky and friends still get Worst of the Week for “Earth”, with Dishonourable Mention going to Jonas Blue and Theresa Rex for “That’s What I Like About You”, or something to that effect. In fact, there’s no Best of the Week or Honourable Mention, the Dishonourable Mention is tied as Kygo and Rita Ora’s “Carry On” exemplifies the exact same problem. God, what a crappy week. Follow me on Twitter @cactusinthebank for more pop music ramblings and Top 20 rankings, and I’ll see you next week!

[kendrixtermina]

Cold Hearted Girl Blues

The “Cold Hearted Girl Blues” Anthology, & associated story ideas.

Just to be safe, TRIGGER WARNING for Disturbing Content and unhealthy attitudes that are in no way representative of reality. 

Depiction =/= endorsement. 

(Final order may vary)

Part A: Avoidant Attachment Style

Indifferent Girl Playlist - “The expression ‘I don’t feel so well’ makes no gramatical sense. It should be ‘I don’t feel so good’, unless you mean to imply that your ability to feel is hampered.”

Cold Hearted Girl Blues - “One Day she won’t love you either.”

Barren Heart - “The hypocricy of writing about things you know nothing about.”

There Was Nothing In Gauf’s Room - “It’s not her fault, either. What you get is what you see. ”

Failure to Manifest - “Sometimes, this situation has her feeling like she doesn’t exist.”

Cold Hearted Girl Gothic - “Just this single, isolated Conciousness.”

LEERE IST EIN PRIVILEG - “#Introvert Pride.”

Dweeb Life - “Ah, the obscure Joys of bein a shut-in”

Heroin Chick - “Involving no actual heroin.”

You're in a laundry room - “There has been a bit of a failure to connect with this world.”

Biology / inertia - “Even her happiest relationship didn’t go over without being compared to a robot at least once. Balancing extreme introversion with a live-in boyfriend.”

Diffusion - “She has no idea what she looks like. It always surprisesher what people say about her.”

Cold Blooded - “It’s a style of communication, apparently.”

Crazy Headphones Girl - “What could he possibly see in her?”

Cold Hearted Girl Erotica - “Her Kink is compartementalization, but she also dabbles in questionanble sex on drugs threesomes with a hooker.”

Cold Hearted Girl Tumblr - “Preempting the Discourse(TM). I was done with the 2010s when they were a new thing.”

Cold Hearted Girl Musings - “She tries to avoid the common pitfalls, at least in theory.”

Cold Hearted Girl Adventures - “She realizes that she’s the sort of person who breaks people’s heart; She’s like this asshole boyfriend from all these lovesongs.”

Cold Hearted Girl's Lament - “She’s usually the one who has to take it upon herself to be be the rational one and tell you ‘No’.”

Cold Hearted Girl Challenges - “Even the Best of her relationships involved her being compared to a robot at least once.”

Life is Gross - “Including the bits of it that are commonly accepted to be loveable and cute.”

Indifference II: Emotionally unavailable morally ambiguous chick - “There are character flaws, ppl. Being an asshole is generally a bad thing.”

Cyborgery I (the becomming) - “Even when she’s right with you,she’s so far away”

The Minimalist's Wet Dream - “She leads her life with a bare minimum of human contact.”

Alphabet Girl - “It would be one thing if you were competing with the universe, but it’s really her ingrown, self-absorbed world you’re playing second fiddle to.”

Peel - “You thought you could find a normal person underneath, didn’t you?”

Part B: Maladaptive Daydreaming

Endzeitromantik - “No one wants to admit these days that they ever liked NuMetal but she sees no reason to do the same.”

Unapologetic - “She’s not romanticising what she thinks you think she’s romanticising. Or so she thinks.”

Luciferosis - “She’s in love with the Devil and is planning to leave in order to be with him. Of course, she will be missed, but of course, she doesn’t care about it. She’s the sort of asshole who’d fall in love with the Devil.”

Opheliac - “There are multiple ways to be in love with the void. The most relevant ones are not featured in this piece.”

Lone Diggin' - “Going to restaurants on her own.”

The Girl In The Tower - “To preserve something valuable in safe, protected garden... that is not what you did.”

Bizarro Self - “She’s put some thought into this, actually.”

Dreamer Things - “That’s what she calls them, anyway. ‘Dreamer’ may be an euphemism here.”

Make Me Wanna Die - “She just wants to be special, probably because she has no idea what real suffering is. Words mean things, you know?” 

Favorite Love Songs - “Though her real life is barren and deprived, she has a rich inner life. Well, then again, how ‘rich’ can an ‘inner life’ be that only ruminates tiny indirect tidbits of information?”

There Is A Little Harley Quinn In All Of Us - “Unpacking the Whole Badboy Complex. It’s not what you think it is.”

Strange Little Girl - “You really should be going.”

Abstract Dreams - “She doesn’t think they mean anything but she’s willing to indulge the thoughts.”

Joy, Joy, Joy, the Melancholia Rolercoaster. - “She likes to think she has feelings.”

Immortelle - “Involving no Actual Immortals.”

I Feel Personally Victimized By Those 19th Century Romanticists - “Even I am not sure what she’s trying to rove here.”

My Fantasy - “Her kink is apparently freezing to death.”

Cyborgery II - “She envies people whose calloused hands show their dedication to their passion.”

Reality Death - “Silly Rabbit, of course the world keeps turning when you’re not there to observe it anymore.”

Dandelion - “The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all. But sometimes it’s better to be the Dandelion, which can take root anywhere and everywhere.”

Plunge - “If there’s some A grade deaster going on, she obviously won’t miss out on watching.”

Fairytale Ending - “My favorites were Sleeping Beauty and ‘The Salt Princess’. Go on and psychoanalyze me.”

Recontextualizing - “She has different words for it now.”

Peeping Tommie - “It’s at it’s purest where it belongs the least. Or perhaps she just grew the fuck up.”

Paper Flowers - “She’d like to think they mean something.”

Part C: Exercises in Counterdependency

The Butthurt Electra Playlist - “She’s got enough self-awareness to call it that, but not enough to realize it was a bad idea.”

She Will Have her Revenge - “She’ll come back as Fire/ To Burn All the Liars/ Leave a Blanket of Ash on the Ground.”

Hate Poems - “Or: Giving yourself Headaches over people who aren’t worth it”

Pavlov redux - “If you can’t understand like a human, you have to be beaten like a dog” - “Actually, Daddy Dearest, you’re not supposed to beat dogs, either.”

Im Real Good At Hating - “Honestly! I’ve got to have some talent somewhere. ” 

Fuck You Specifically- “Her Lips: Fuck You. Her Hair: Fuck You. Her Clothes: Fuck You. Her crippling self-motivation issues: Fuck You.”

My whole existence for your amusement - “And that is why I’m here with you.”

Sick & Tired - “Yes I know what you think of me, you never shut up.”

Been A Son - “Why does she spend so much time searching for some kind of reason for what you did? Even if there was, it wouldn’t justify your actions.”

Make a list - “It’s supposed to be a therapeutic excercise.”

choice - “It’s the Morton’s Fork of emotions.”

gross girl - “FAART. FAART. She picks her note and eats it. ”

BratFactory - “She outright heard her mother say that she has no value to that man except as a mother to make children.”

AntiStar - “Back in the day, I became obsessed with the thought of a lightless Luminary, an existence that is the very opposite of light.”

Adaptation - “It’s amazing how much a human can twist themselves into a pretzel. It was a matter of survival at the time, you see.”

Emotional Abuse Checklist - “BINGO!”

Remember That We Suffered - “You have no idea what pain is.”

Cyborgery III: We can Rebuild Her  - “Perhaps these vagrant years were simply the means to piece herself back together.”

Idetifikation mit dem Aggressor - “Apparently she looks just like him.”

Es Kocht Die Eifersucht - “A parent is supposed to protect a child from the bad experiences of their youth, not inflict some creepy reenactment of them upon you.”

Curmudgeon (Long Way Home) - “She’s that thing you go to when you want to have a cheap laugh.” 

Visibility - “Your Father Loves you! why can’t you see that?”

Touchy - “You bet she is.”

Light - “She thinks she used to be Light once, but she can’t be sure.”

If I Die, I can be replaced - “I will leave you all behind, move to spain and adopt some children who actually deserve my time and money. Perhaps they will finally appreciate me, unlike you ungrateful wretches.”

My One Mistake Was That I Couldn't Let You Down - “Turns out she wasn’t quite Cold Hearted enough.”

PART D: USELESS, USELESS, USELESS CHILD

Fuckyeahmedicalgrossness - “In my humble opinion, the human brain is way too squishy.”

Something in The Way - “You can always find something.”

Unbirth - “Barely Functioning Lump of Human Flesh. Except no, that’s unfair to the people with real problems. I suppose ‘asshole’ will do.”

Donald Duck Volcano - “I’m not gonna sugarcoat her this time.”

My Wretched Soul Desires Violence - “It’s not pretty, but it’s true. It shouldn’t be but it is.”

Verbal Disclaimer - “I’m not claiming I’m perfect either.”

Useless Child - “How was she supposed to learn if you never let her do anything?”

Madwoman in the Attic - “And they always knew she would be the family spinster.”

Unfair Existence - “At the risk of sounding like a millionaire campaigning for a tax on poverty.”

The Mutant - “Way to make that 9 year old feel like a freak of nature... in the end it’s probably a kind of arrogance.”

Green Grunge - “It’s her jam, except not really. She sure can’t claim to be an expert.”

In Defense Of That Legendary Divorce - “The whole concept of ‘stay for the children’ is utter bullsh*t”

My Fantasy II - “I’m gonna kill all yo fuckers. That’s what quiet people who keep to themselves are supposed to do, right?”

Cyborgery IV – Plastic Death - “My Fetish: All the weak parts of the real me, cut away and dumped in a bucket of medical waste.”

Schreckschraube - “It occurs to her that she’s terribly gross to them.”

Nemo, or as my father lovingly calls me, "Chiquilla de Mierda" - “It’s Spanish for ‘Shit Brat’.”

Hasmereir - “Some of the cruelty is lost in translation, but it basically means ‘Make-Me-Laugh-Thing.’”

You Stink - “Bullies aren’t known for being very creative people.”

Sweet Sweet Reality - “She’s not completely out of touch with it.”

Is there More To Lose Than Gain - “Apparently yes, but she’s not sure how to get it anyways.”

Alraune - “Always with the legends and the soulless children. I think she has a type.”

Confession - “I plead guilty. Mostly to existing.”

Way Too Old For This And F****ing Bored Of It - “Even she is sick of all her emo bullsh*t.”

EPILOGUE: WHATS THE USE OF FEELING BLUE? - The next step, apparently, is crying.

[snugglebuck]

Give It Away III

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3891

Warnings: Swearing, I think that's it.

Notes: So it's my birthday so I thought I'd give you guys a long awaited present. ;) Happy 22nd to me! (and you) Also sorry this took so long but like life happened and writers block happened and yeah.... Just life. Anyway, please let me know what you think!

Read Part I --> [XXX]

Read Part II --> [XXX]

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The sound of soft snores was becoming more and more prominent with each waking moment. You opened your eyes, looking around the living room towards Bucky who was at the other end of the couch and snorted. His head was tipped back, arms folded across his chest, mouth wide open, snoring away.

"Hey Grandpa, I thought you didn't take naps!" You giggled, sleep still evident in your eyes as you playfully nudging him with your foot to which he awoke, startled, his eyes landing on you. A lazy grin took over his face, eyes narrowing.

“Grandpa, really?” Bucky yawned, raising his hands to his face as his eyes squinted from the light from the glowing television which now played a National Geographic documentary about Grizzly Bears. It pictured them fishing in a river in British Columbia, sat on the edge of a small waterfall, the narrators voice monotone and quiet.

“You know because you’re a senior citizen,” you replied.

“Technically, I may be in my 90s, but I've got the body," he paused, smirking, "and the stamina of a twenty-five-year-old," Bucky reported and you squished your face in disgust.

“Ugh, please don’t.”

“I was just resting my eyes doll. You know it gets pretty tiring staring at your beautiful face every day," he replied, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” You spoke, crossing your arms across your chest.

“It can be whatever you want Y/N,” Bucky replied, a slight smirk on his face, and then he winked, again, probably for the twentieth time that day.

“Oh my god Barnes! Get your friggin eye checked!” You fussed, grabbing one of the couch cushions and chucking it at Bucky's head. Still, in his sleepy state, Bucky was in no state to defend such a surprise attack, and the cushion hit him square in the face. You both watched it drop to the floor and then Bucky's gaze turned to you. The look of pure intensity he gave you caused you to freeze.

“Oh, it’s on,” Bucky spoke quietly. A mischievous look graced his features, and that stone cold glare was gone, replaced by a sly grin on Bucky’s face. Not even a second later he was lunging towards you, his hands outstretched until they made contact with your body, ultimately trapping you. Once he was on top of you, Bucky started the tickling.

“OH NO! SHIT NO BUCKY! I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!” You violently squirmed.

“I don’t think you’re really sorry. I think,” he paused as he grabbed your feet, continuing his attack, “I think you meant to assault me with a pillow.”

“NO, no, I’m-ohmygod-I'm so sorry," you stuttered, his hands had moved back up to your stomach now, and you were trying to get away, but it was no use. The tickling was too much, "Barnes I-I'll do an-nny-thing!”

“Anything?” Bucky reacted, eyebrows raised as he continued to torment you, laughing as you continued to struggle against his grip.

“YES, anything! Please just stop!” You rushed. You couldn’t take this for much longer. Not only was the tickling torture, but the weight of his entire super soldier body pressed against yours was making you lose your breath.

“Be my date to Tony’s stupid party tonight,” he asked, pausing and stopping his motions, awaiting your answer.

You watched his face, completely stoic and resolved. He was actually asking you on a date. On the one hand, Tony's party was here at the facility. Everyone else would also be there so you could always escape once you got there.

"And yes, you have to be with me the whole night," Bucky read your mind, a twinkle in his eyes as he smiled. You rolled your eyes and groaned. You couldn’t believe a stupid couch cushion had caused you this much trouble.

“Fine, if it’ll get your fat ass off of me," you grumbled. Bucky's eyes lit up at your answer, a seemingly even brighter smile to follow. He slowly got up off of you, grabbing all the empty beer bottles as he made his way toward the kitchen. You watched as he walked away.

“Darling, you love my fat ass,” Bucky countered and snickered, casually glancing your way and winking once more.

You chucked another cushion at his head.

“Fuck, fuck me.” You were lying on Natasha’s bed, head hanging over the side as all the blood rushed towards your temples. You couldn’t believe this was happening. How were you supposed to survive five hours with Bucky?

“Just keep repeating that. He’ll love it,” Natasha spoke, pulling you out of your trance like self-loathing as she riffled through her closest. You let out an audible groan, giving her the finger when she wasn’t looking. You didn’t feel like taking a trip to the emergency room before your “date" with Bucky. Natasha had broken one too many fingers before, it wasn't worth the pain to do it to her face.

"Not helping Natasha. And to top it off it's one of Tony's wild fancy parties, so I actually have to put effort into this stupid…ugh…date…and look pleasant and, ugh. Just ugh! I hate this," you spoke, and Natasha laughed from inside her walk-in closet. She reappeared with a couple dresses, throwing them at you.

“Here, try these,” Natasha spoke nonchalantly, sitting down on the bed and gesturing to you to try on the dresses she had picked out. You glanced at them, sighing, and turning your gaze in her direction, your eyebrows knitting together in irritation.

“And also, you’re not off the hook yet either. Why the hell did you tell Barnes?” You pulled the magazine she was flipping through out of her hands, and she shrugged, glancing at her nails.

"I thought you liked him! You know, after your drunk confession and all…" The redhead spoke, giving you her full attention now, a grave look on her face. You sighed. You were conflicted.

“I do… kind of…but then he opens his mouth and ruins it! Or that excessive winking, don’t get me started…” You rolled your eyes, and Natasha grinned, shaking her head.

“You know, you two are quite alike. Both stubborn, both have nice asses," Natasha replied, and you playfully slapped the woman with the previously confiscated magazine.

“He does have a nice ass…” You mumbled, and Natasha moved off the bed, heading back into the closet to find something for to wear.

“I knew it! I knew it. You want to have sex with him… I can see it in your eyes…” Natasha hummed, “And I’m hoping it’ll do something with all that attitude and tension. Now go get ready!” Natasha poked her head out of her closet and winked, giggling as she returned to her search.

“Keep dreaming,” you replied, shaking your head and picking up the dresses, heading out the door. You honestly had no idea what you wanted and hoped tonight you’d find out.

You slipped the nude strappy heels over your feet and stood up from the vanity stool, making your way across your room towards the full-length mirror beside the door and took in your appearance. You had chosen a simple, sleeveless, V-neck black dress. It hit just before your knees and skimmed your body quite nicely, showing off your body all the while still looking quite sophisticated. Your hair fell in loose waves, framing your face, and you had chosen a simple cat eye and a red lip. Your jewellery was also somewhat minimalistic consisting of a delicate necklace, matching bracelet, and a thin gold ring. You had to admit, you thought you had done a pretty good job. Unfortunately, that didn't relax the butterflies that were frantically unsettling your stomach.

"This is so stupid," you mumbled to yourself, glancing around the room and walking over to your nightstand, glancing at the time on your phone. It was almost eight o'clock, which was when Barnes said he would arrive to "pick you up" for your date. Not like you couldn't just meet downstairs where the party was happening. It caused you, even more, anxiety, walking into a room, full of people, with him.

You picked up your clutch, depositing your lipstick, room key just in case you became too intoxicated to deal with the keypad on your bedroom door, which, was likely if you had to spend an evening with Barnes, and the travel size of your favourite perfume.  You then glanced at your phone again, seven fifty-nine. The suspense was killing you. You just wanted this night to be over already.

Knock, knock.

Oh shit.

You took a deep breath and walked towards the door and started to turn the knob when Bucky began to speak.

“Hey Y/N ready to-oh fuck,” Bucky spoke as the door swung open, his eyes going wide as he stared at you, a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hands. How the hell did he know they were my favourite?

You probably had a similarly stunned look on your face as you took in Bucky’s appearance. The tailored suit he wore matched his black dress shirt. He looked fantastic, and the darkness in contrast to his eyes made them appear even more intensely blue. You had become so enamoured with his put together appearance that you didn't even realise you had been staring when Bucky brought you out of your haze, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. Somehow he had brought himself even closer to you in your daze.

"You are beautiful," Bucky cooed, his eyes fleeting over your appearance then back to your face, an easy smile on his face. Still in your stupor, and due to Bucky's startling confession, at this point your mouth was open, and you looked like a fish out of the water. Your reaction caused Bucky to laugh, shaking his head,

“These are for you,” his voice echoed as he handed the bouquet of flowers to you. You looked down at them in your hands, this motion finally snapping you out of your stupor. Looking back at Bucky, you gave a tight-lipped smile.

"Thanks," you mumbled, the intense nervousness taking over your being once again. You motioned for Bucky to follow you into your quarters as you made your way over to the small kitchenette, grabbing a clear vase from underneath the sinking and filling it up with water. You deposited the flowers into the vase with your back to Bucky, not daring to look at him. You didn't know what to do with these feelings you were having. It was dangerous territory.

With all the teasing, taunting, and obnoxious flirting, of course, you had an attraction to Bucky. But you never thought it would come to this, an actual real date. Frankly, it freaked you out. You didn't usually open up to people, share your feelings, or expect to have feelings reciprocated for you.

When you were brought on to the Avengers, you started out at the bottom, working as a secretary for one of Tony’s assistants, and not an important one either. You had just come out of college and because of the terrible job market took whatever you could get. Being a secretary was all right, no doubt, it just wasn't what you wanted to do for the rest of your life. So you'd help out around the office, doing odd jobs that you definitely weren't being paid for, working hard and keeping your head down. Not only had your long years in retail paid off due to your excellent people skills, or in other words, when your boss was freaking out about something you kept your cool and got the job done that someone else forgot to do. After a couple months of being a secretary, you moved up to being an assistant to one of Tony's unimportant assistants and slowly made your way onto Tony's radar.

It was six o'clock on a summer Friday night. Time to go home for the weekend. You had been packing up your things from your cubicle, making sure you had all the necessities to work on some paperwork at home from the comfort of your plush sofa and some mint chocolate chip ice cream. As you were grabbing your purse and slipping into more comfortable shoes for you train ride home, a screech rained out from your boss's office. You raised your head above the divider of your cubicle, glancing in the direction of your supervisor who continued to freak out on the soul who was heading towards the elevators, likely not coming back anytime soon.

"Y/N! Get in here!" they spoke, and you froze for a moment. You always had great timing. No, you couldn't have just hidden under your desk until the whole ordeal was over.

Setting your bag down, you slipped your heels back onto your feet and quickly made your way over to your boss’s office, walking through the glass door and standing patiently.

“Sir?”

“Sit, sit, fuck. We’re fucked!” He spoke, motioning to the chair in front of his desk while his head dropped to his hands, a soft groan emitting from his lips. You had never seen him this distressed before but waited for him to relax so he would explain. You didn't want to agitate him any more than he already was.

"Do you know what's happening tonight Y/N?" The man spoke, his hand running through his short sandy hair, distress still apparently radiating from him. You shook your head no in response.

“Well, tonight, of all nights, is Tony’s welcome home party for Captain America and his pals. You know how they were all separated for a while? We’ll they cleared that up, they’re all good now apparently,” he paused, glancing towards you, getting up from his chair and starting to pace around the modern room.

“Lucky for me, the idiot who was planning the event had a ‘family emergency’ and has left everything up to me now. Except, get this, he did nothing!” The man yelled, frustration evident on his face and he sighed and picked up a bunch of papers, handing them to you. It was a list of everything this ‘idiot’ was supposed to complete, and nothing had been checked off. Looking over the list with your boss still pacing and likely planning his escape once Tony found out that one of the most important parties of his life hadn’t been planned, you sighed and put on a smile.

“It’s okay. We’ll get it done.” Your boss turned his gaze to you, a look of disbelief in his eyes as you handed him one of the shorter lists. You gave him a reassuring smile, getting up from your seat and smoothing out your blouse.

“I’m going to go tackle this stuff,” you waved the papers around that were in your hand and checked the watch on your wrist, “You do those, it shouldn’t take too long to call the caterer. If they can’t get the food ready for tonight let me know, I might have a contact who owes me a favour…” You started to trail off and turned your gaze back to you still overwhelmed boss. You sighed, placing your hand reassuringly on his forearm.

“We’ll get it done.” Your simple touch relaxed your boss, and he nodded. His face changed once again, turning back to his work mode look, and you both got to work. Him sitting at his computer desk and you running out of the office to grab everything you would need to salvage this party.

“Fuck.”

An hour later you had booked the catering, had all the alcohol in the city delivered to the compound, hired an army waiters, a last-minute decorator whom you had to pursued with a considerable amount of cash, made sure that all the guests on the guest list had RSVP'd. You also had hired a DJ and a swing band and picked up Tony's dry cleaning. All in all, you were entirely exhausted and wanted to crawl home and eat a large pizza all by yourself. You rested your head on your desk. Maybe it was a better idea to sleep here tonight.

"Y/N, good job. I was just upstairs. Everything looks perfect," your boss spoke, patting you on the back in the way that fathers do even though this man was at most in his late thirties. It had been a rough night, though, so you just mumbled in response, not lifting your head from your desk. It was definitely comfortable enough to spend the night here.

"Umm," he cleared his throat and then continued, "There's someone here who wants to meet you." He spoke, and you lifted your gaze, your eyes landing on none other than Tony Stark himself. You gasped, jumping up from your roller chair and correcting your posture, smoothing your hair down as much as possible and adjusting your pencil skirt, slightly embarrassed that the bosses of all bosses walked in on you trying to sleep on the job.

Tony Stark gave a little smirk, reaching out his hand to shake yours. A twinkle in his eye told you he had more in store for you than just saying hello.

"Doesn't my suit look spectacular? And it's all because of you for saving the night you know," Tony spoke, and you started to disagree, motioning to your boss but Tony stopped you, "No, I know, Fred told me here what went on tonight, and boy are we both impressed. This is a fateful night you know. Not just, party wise, because all my parties need to be incredible, comes with the name," Tony sent you a quick wink and continued on, his gaze turning more serious, "But my family is coming home, and I wanted everything to be perfect."

You nodded, taking in everything he was saying, your mind tracking back to the events of when Captain America and Tony Stark were in what some called a ‘war’. You didn’t follow the whole ordeal closely, but you knew the basics, and what he was saying really hit home for you. It definitely needed to be a perfect night.

"So, because you seem to be highly intelligent, clearly a remarkable employee, definitely a calming personality, which, lets me real; I need some more grounding in my life, I'd like to offer you a job as my new personal assistant," Tony proposed. His body language was genuine and sincere. You were stunned and speechless. You didn't know what to say. All your hard work had finally paid off.

"Oh, and you need to move into the compound. All expenses paid of course. I need you on call twenty-four seven. It's a deal breaker, sorry," Stark added quickly, and you grinned. Free rent and a raise, was this real life?

“Deal.” And that’s how all your Bucky troubles started when you met him later that night at Tony’s welcome home party.

"And this is Thor, Bruce, and Natasha," Tony introduced you after having offered his stylist to you, fitting you into a navy cocktail dress and doing your hair and makeup after you had protested you were in no state for a party. You had given in with not much pleading from Tony, as you were too exhausted to care. You just wanted to get a drink to you and sit down somewhere.

You shook the hands of Bruce and Natasha while Thor brought you into a big bear hug, likely due the already consumed Asgardian liquor. After you had removed yourself from Thor’s grasp, Tony lead you over to the bar, letting the bartender know to take care of you tonight as you were his new favourite person.

"I have to go say hello to a couple more people, but then I'll introduce you to the rest of the team. Make yourself comfortable, it's a night of celebration," Tony spoke, and he was headed off to the large room, shaking hands with some men in suits. You sighed, turning to the bartender and ordering a whisky sour and taking a sip as you glanced around the room. You liked parties, but this was not what you were used to.

“Hey darlin', you look like you're having fun. Mind if I join you?" A tall, broad figure asked, long dark hair framing his face and those eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you nodded. The reaction caused the man to smirk, sitting down on the stool next to you, turning to the bartender and ordering a weirdly named drink which you later found out was one of Thor’s making. The steely man turned his gaze back to you and started to speak.

“So, come here often?” You snorted, spitting out your drink, fighting off laughter as you watched his features, seemingly amused at your reaction.

“Did you really just say that?”

“Yeah, it’s a valid question,” he retorted, and your face contorted even more, not sure how to answer this guy.

"Oh my god, well, I guess that's true. No, no, I don't come here often," you replied, shaking your head and looking around the room and then turning your gaze back to the man who had his entire body angled towards you, unquestionably interested.

“Do you come here often?” You asked, a hint of a raised eyebrow as you took a sip of your drink, this time swallowing before he gave you another outlandish answer.

"No, first time actually. These things aren't really my thing," The man motioned with his hand to the rest of the room, and you nodded.

“What’s your name?” The man asked.

“Y/N. And yours?”

“A beautiful name for an even more beautiful face,” you rolled your eyes this time, your smirk encompassing your face. You couldn’t believe this guy.

"Bucky," He responded, and then it dawned on you that this was Bucky Barnes, aka the Winter Solider, "Your new neighbour. I think we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” he added a wink, making you blush. To your dismay or relief, Stark pulled you away after mumbling something along the lines ‘I see you've met the abominal snowman' and heading in the direction of some more notable people that you could care less to meet, not after your first encounter with James Buchanan Barnes.

"You okay doll?" Bucky asked, standing a few feet away from where you now stood in your kitchenette.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Just tired," you replied, your eyes shifting to Barnes as you gave a smile, hopefully, a believable one. You weren't sure what was going to happen tonight, but it felt a lot like the first night you met Bucky Barnes and started a whole new life for yourself.

He took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb against yours gently, sensing your nervousness as he was feeling the same way.

"Ready?" Bucky asked softly, and you nodded.

"Ready." The two of you headed out of your room as you grabbed you clutch, Bucky giving you his arm to hold onto as you headed towards the elevator, your heart beating a mile a minute. Bucky seemed to relax at your touch, or anytime he was around you for that matter.

You could tell this was going to be an eventful night. Good or bad, you weren't sure yet, but you were about to find out.