#cause on one hand he seems like the type who’d really love raising a child. playing with them teaching them things etc

[jaycecore]

yeah I definitely think jayvik aren’t the parental type; but the uncle type? oh yeah no question

[kuroopaisen]

cause & effect || chapter 7

➵ your work friend, kuroo, has a tiny favour to ask. unfortunately, that favour includes convincing his family that you’re very much in love with him and have been for a while now. let’s just say it’s easier than you’d assumed.

warnings: f!reader, mentions of divorce

wc: 5.7k

m.list | ch. 6 ↞ ch. 7 ↠ ch. 8

It’s frustratingly cold as you step out onto the street in the late afternoon, scarf pulled up around your cheeks and gloved hands stuffed in your coat pockets. Sure, it’s a bit stuffy inside a jumper, a jacket, and an outercoat, but it’s what you’ve got to do. It’s the sort of afternoon that you want to spend inside, curled up next to your heater as you throw on a shitty Christmas film. Instead, you’re going to brave the minefield that is your boyfriend’s mother.

Well, not your real boyfriend. But his mother doesn’t know that – and she’s certainly unlikely to be any less critical of you regardless. You’re not sure the whole ‘deceit’ aspect makes it any less stressful. If anything, you feel more pressure to play your part well; for his sake more than anything else.

The reason for this mess is waiting for you, leaning against the nose of his car, dressed in a surprisingly stylish black coat and red scarf. He looks so nonchalant, gazing down the street with the same expression he has when trying to figure out the most appropriate sign-off to a work email.

“Morning,” you yawn, shuffling towards him.

Kuroo grins at you, his nose and cheeks bitten red by the cold.

For how tall and intimidating he looks, he’s got a nice smile.

“You sure you can breathe in all that?” He teases, appraising your winter gear with a playful glint in his eye.

You glare at him, shuffling towards him in all your layered glory.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those men who likes to brag about how he never gets cold,” you huff, tapping his foot with your own. He doesn’t seem the type to have such a lack of self-awareness, but it’s not impossible that he’d just say something like that to wind you up.

“Nah,” he grins. “I just go for fashion over comfort.”

“You’re doing a terrible job then,” you giggle. Of all the words that come to mind when you think ‘Kuroo Tetsurou’, fashionable is not one of them.

Kuroo places an aghast hand on his chest, the look in his eyes not quite matching up with his slack jaw. “And here I thought we were friends.”

“Aren’t friends supposed to be honest with each other?” You tilt your head to the side with a sparkle in your eyes.

The nervousness bubbling in your stomach is already subsiding. It’s a silly little thing, a bit of meaningless banter on a winter’s morning, but you feel better. Embarrassing, really.

“You wound me,” he chuckles, shaking his head. He stands to his full height, rolling his shoulders. “You ready?”

You nod. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Recognition flashes in Kuroo’s eyes, his expression morphing from relaxed to mildly perturbed. “Thanks for doing this, by the way.”

You wave a hand at him before promptly stuffing it back in your pocket. “No problem. Also, I get a free dinner out of it.”

Kuroo raises an eyebrow at you, but his expression softens slightly. Although, you’re not sure it’s enough to ease the guilt he must be feeling.

(“Are you sure?” Kuroo asks, his brow furrowed as he leans across your work cubicle. His voice is quiet, hushed, as though he doesn’t want anyone else to hear. “You really don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“You sound like a broken record,” you laugh. It’s true; as surely as the sun rises and sets, Kuroo asks if you’re sure you really want to do this at approximately one in the afternoon. Sometimes at two. “It’s fine,” you smile. “I offered, didn’t I?”)

“Well…” He sighs, turning around and opening the car door. “Ladies first.”

You nod as you slip into the passenger seat. The stale heated air burns the inside of your nose; a sensation you firmly associate with the winter.

Kuroo is quick to join you on the other side, legs a little too long to fit comfortably despite his seat being pushed back quite far. You smile to yourself; he really is a strange mix of all the confidence and debonair of a successful businessman and all the awkwardness of an overgrown child.

The more you think about it, the more it makes sense that he’d be the one to ask this of you. But it’s on your own volition that you sit in his car, about to head off to see his mother.

Maybe this is going overboard. But something about his face while he was on the phone to his mother still bothers you. The panic, the exhaustion, the fear – he’s never acted like that with his dad’s side of the family. Something’s obviously up.

But you’re not sure how to casually mention that in conversation. ‘Oh, hey, I noticed things were kind of tense when you were on the phone to your mother, do you want to talk about it?’ It’s not even your place to pry.

At the very least, you want to support a friend ‘in need’. That feels reasonable enough.

✧ ✧ ✧

The drive is painfully silent.

You try your best to make light conversation, but it’s hard. Kuroo’s too deep in his own head to have a proper discussion. The joviality he’d greeted you with this morning quickly dissipated, replaced by an unusually sombre expression.

He’s never usually this quiet. There’s usually a quip, or perhaps a small observation he’d like to share. Seeing him this quiet, this withdrawn… it’s unusual. Well, for you, at least. Perhaps the Kuroo you knew was just a front, a mask securely fixed on to make workplace relationships run smoothly.

But… you’d like to think you know him better than that by now.

Forty minutes feel like eighty. But thank God it’s over.

He doesn’t even need to announce that you’ve arrived. The palpable air of dread that fills the car is indication enough.

That, and the fact that you’re currently parked in front of what appears to be a very standard house of the upper middle class. It looks rather fancy, with perfectly tended-to hedges and white walls. It almost looks like a show home, albeit a lot smaller.

“You ready?” Kuroo sighs, turning to you with tired eyes.

You nod. “I’m ready to charm the pants off your mum.”

You regret the words before they’ve even left your mouth.

Kuroo snorts. “Really? That’s the turn of phrase you’re going with?”

“I could run off and live a long, loving life with your mother,” you shrug. “You never know, ‘Tetsu’.”

He shakes his head with a smile. “Now that’d be a plot twist.”

“Mhm,” you nod.

Something in your gut wants to linger in the car, to put this off as long as possible. You don’t know what to expect; his father’s side of the family had been a breeze, perhaps even more kind and welcoming than you deserve. But something told you that won’t be the case with his mother.

Kuroo doesn’t knock on the door, nor does he shoot his mother a message. He fishes around in the mailbox and pulls out a pair of keys, reluctantly opening the front door.

You’re dumbstruck by how pristine everything is. It looks as if it’s been cleaned recently; probably in anticipation of your arrival. But you can’t comprehend this place ever being anything less than perfect, though. You can’t envision disorder here, neither in the little hallway or the charming little living room.

There’s something distinctly different about this house. It’s a little cleaner, a little more put together. Where Kuroo’s paternal household seems to revel in its rambunctious sincerity, this one seems more concerned with order.

Everything is where it should be; the design opts for minimalism over sentimentality.

There are still photos on the wall – a gangly, teenaged Kuroo smiling blithely next to a girl who looks a lot like him, a baby you don’t recognise, a group of people you’ve never seen before staring at you with tight smiles…

“We’re here,” Kuroo calls out.

“Yes, dear, I heard the door,” a woman’s voice calls back. Your stomach is tight, wound up like a pocket watch. “Come to the kitchen, would you?”

Kuroo glances at you before complying, shuffling towards the kitchen with the same reluctance as a petulant twelve-year-old boy. You follow, tottering after him as quickly as possible.

The kitchen is just as orderly as the rest of the house; a miracle, given the fact that Kuroo’s mother appears to be making curry.

She’s as tall as you expected her to be. She doesn’t share her son’s penchant for messy hair; instead, she looks like the sort of woman who’d be composed no matter what. She does share her son’s strong jaw and sharp eyes, and it seems like she’d look just as good in a suit.

Suffice to say, you’re even more intimidated.  

“Dinner’s ready, Tetsurou,” she sighs, hand on her hip and ladle in hand.

“We just got here,” he blinks, gormless.

“That’s why I told you to arrive at six,” she says.

You and Kuroo exchange a look.

“Thank you for being so prepared,” you say reflexively.

His mother offers you a smile in response. It doesn’t seem insincere, at least.

“Is Akari coming?” Kuroo asks.

You know that name – his sister. She must be the girl in the photos.

“She couldn’t make it,” Kuroo’s mother replies nonchalantly.

You watch Kuroo’s face as it flickers almost imperceptibly with understanding. There’s something like relief in his eyes – but also something like annoyance. Perhaps both.    

“And Haruki?”

There’s something to the way Kuroo says that name that sets you on edge.

“He’s working late,” his mother replies with a moment’s delay. Maybe she just took some time to process the question – but there’s enough dead air for you to be suspicious.

That’s when you remember.

(“So, your mum’s remarried?” You ask, tilting your head at him.

Kuroo grimaces on the other side of the table. “Yeah. To a lawyer.”

You chuckle, taking another sip of your lunchtime boba. “I take it that’s a bad thing?”

Kuroo bristles. “Well, he just… I just… we never got along, you know?”

“Ah,” you swallow. Incompatibility with a parent’s new partner is its own minefield, fraught with hurt feelings and expectations. “So, your mum remarried, and you stayed with your dad?”

“Mhm,” he nods. “Mum took Akari.”

“That’s your sister, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you talk to her often?” Your gut shifts. Siblings ‘separated’ in a divorce. Fraught allegiances, maybe?

“Yeah,” he takes a sip of his own drink. “I saw her last week.”)

Haruki must be the stepfather.

“I see,” Kuroo murmurs. This time, the look in his eyes is definitely relief.

“Go sit yourselves down,” his mother says, waving a hand at you two. “I’ll bring it out in a second.”

Kuroo obliges quickly, making a beeline for the dining table. You follow in suit, terrified of the prospect of being left alone in the kitchen with his mother. Kuroo pulls out a chair for you and you slide into it, folding your hands in your lap.

Well, the energy here is certainly… different.

Next to you, Kuroo sits with a clenched jaw. The only other time you’ve seen him like this is when dealing with particularly obnoxious sponsors; the ones that’d make even the most calm and patient of your colleagues want to tear their hair out.

But he shouldn’t have to feel like this, should he? It’s his mother’s house. Somewhere that’s supposed to be a home for him. And yet he looks so… so…

You nudge him with your elbow. He turns to you with a start, eyes wide. A smile is all you can offer him, as optimistic and genuine as you can muster.

His eyes soften ever so slightly; and, if you’re not imagining it, you swear you can see the whisper of a smile beginning to form on his own lips.

“Here you go,” his mother chirps, appearing so suddenly you’re not entirely convinced she didn’t just materialise out of smoke.

She sets a plate of curry down in front of you.

It looks gorgeous. Robust, richly coloured, with rice that looks like it’s the perfect consistency… it’s the sort of curry you’d expect to see on an advertisement, or maybe on a delivery app (where the image draws you in, only to leave you deeply disappointed when the real curry shows up looking significantly less appetising).

“Thank you,” you smile at her. Funny that your mood’s suddenly picked up, hm?

“You are most welcome,” his mother chuckles, sitting herself down in her own seat across from the two of you.

The three of you say your thanks before picking up your spoons. If there’s anything you can all agree on, it’s the fact that you want to dig into this curry immediately.

“Have you spoken to your sister recently?” Kuroo’s mother asks, scooping up some rice.

“Uh, yeah,” Kuroo nods, swallowing roughly. “I called her yesterday.”

“Did you tell her about your new girlfriend?”

“Not yet,” he mumbles, cheeks starting to glow.

“Afraid she’ll tease you?”

Kuroo genuinely chuckles at that. “You really think me such a coward?”

“You say that like I’m not also deathly afraid of your sister,” his mother smiles, “she could verbally tear me apart without even breaking a sweat.”

Kuroo’s chuckle becomes a genuine laugh. The sound brings you more relief than you could’ve ever imagined.

Even his mother seems to soften a bit.

She finally looks straight at you, a gentle smile on her face. “I hope it’s to your liking, dear,” she hums.

“Thank you,” you smile back, taking a spoonful of curry. It’s so good – warm and rich, with the sort of texture and flavour you’d expect from a comfort meal. You wonder if her penchant for cooking has passed down to her son.  

“I take it’s a success, then?” Kuroo’s mother smiles wryly, tilting her head at you. You blink at her with wide eyes and round cheeks. Had you… done something?

“Don’t tease her,” Kuroo chuckles.

“I’m not teasing,” his mother tuts. “I just pay particular attention when someone’s trying my cooking for the first time.”

A surprisingly comfortable silence settles over the table as everyone tucks into their dinner, taking a moment to enjoy this dish that tastes like a warm hug.

Kuroo’s mother is the picture of smug satisfaction, revelling in the implicit praise of a silent dinner table. Although, you can’t blame her; if you could make a curry this good, you’d surely be acting the same way.

You’re grateful for the silence. Silence means you don’t need to be quick on your feet, trying to weave a realistic story. This woman seems perceptive; more perceptive than you’d like. Where his dad’s side of the family seem to place trust that Kuroo’s telling them the truth, it feels as though his mother would be able to unravel this little pantomime in an instant.

“So how long have you two been together now?” She coos, looking between the two of you with a sly smile.

You look to Kuroo, trying your best to suppress the panic in your eyes. You hadn’t actually asked what the answer to that question would be. Foolish, really.

“It’ll be, uh…” Kuroo clears his throat, raising an eyebrow. “A few months now?”

You nod along, taking another mouthful of curry. Curse the swirling in your gut – this meal deserves to be enjoyed wholly, not forced down during a bout of anxiety.

“And you were working together before this?” She asks.

“Mhm.”

You reach over and take Kuroo’s hand on instinct. Your grip is firm, tense. Kuroo squeezes your hand back. The amount of comfort it gives you is shameful; this isn’t real. He’s just a friend. A colleague.  

“Ah,” Kuroo’s mother smiles. “So, it really is a workplace romance.”

The way she says it implies that the fact amuses her. Why? Had she not expected that for her son? Did she look down on a workplace romance? Perhaps some people might find it unprofessional, but… it’s not real. Not that you’d tell her that.

She asks a few more questions; where you’re from, what you like to do, what you studied in university.

You answer as truthfully as you can. The less lies you have to keep track of, the better. And, you hope, it might add some credence to your story – even if part of you worries that his mother might disapprove of you.

Not that it matters. You’ve had more than enough of this ‘method acting’.

The questions slow, although you’re not sure Kuroo’s mother is satiated. There’s a certain glint in her eye as she looks between the two of you.

“So,” she asks, her voice like cream, “when am I getting grandchildren?”

Your face flushes hot. The question isn’t being directed at you – well, not really – but the thought is enough to send you into a mental frenzy. Children? But you’re so young, and they’re a big commitment. There’s so much to think about – schooling, mental wellbeing, financial support—

“Be patient, mother,” Kuroo shakes his head, letting the question roll off his shoulders.

He must get asked this a lot, you think.  

“You’re getting on in years, Tetsurou,” his mother purrs.

You resist the urge to frown. If Tetsurou was past his prime, then does that make you an old crone?

“I’m only twenty-four,” Kuroo mumbles. No matter how frequent a question like this, it’s always annoying.

“And?” His mother raises an eyebrow at him.

Kuroo rolls his eyes. You swallow down a laugh with a sip of water.

“And,” Kuroo croons, rolling his head to the side, “I’ve got to focus on my career.” He threads his fingers with yours effortlessly, holding up your clasped hands for your mother to see. “And so does she.”

Your heart is pounding now, blood thrumming in your ears. If none of your words are enough to convince his mother that this is ‘real’, then surely your darkening cheeks must do the trick.

“Well now,” his mother coos, “seems like you’ve got it all worked out.”

Something’s off. It’s in the way Kuroo’s mother looks at him. In the weight of the silence that’s engulfed you. In the way he squeezes your hand a little tighter.

You’re missing something. You can feel it in your gut. There’s an important piece of information you’re not privy to, or perhaps a part of Kuroo’s personal history that you haven’t been told.

Regardless of what it is, Kuroo and his mother seem to be having a silent war over it.

“I never asked,” you cut in, desperate to bring an end to this tension, “but what do you do for work?”

Kuroo’s mother blinks at you for a moment, as if she hasn’t quite processed what you’ve asked. “Oh, I’m a teacher.”

“What grade?” You ask. If you keep this ball rolling, then maybe you’ll all survive the evening.

“Middle school,” she nods, “although truth be told, I feel like I should’ve gone for elementary.”

“Why?” You smile. “Are the pre-teens too hormonal?”

Kuroo’s mother sighs, sitting back in her chair. “You wouldn’t believe how foolish some of those children can be.”

“Tell her about those boys who tried to make a flamethrower during chemistry,” Kuroo chuckles. He’s smiling, but he still looks beleaguered.

“Oh my God,” his mother groans. You worry for a moment; is she mad? Upset? Embarrassed?

None of those, apparently. She launches right into the story, complete with hand gestures.

You laugh along. Next to you, Kuroo’s shoulders slump a bit.

It may not be a victory, but the energy in the room has definitely shifted. You’ve got something to talk about. That’s one problem out of the way.

All you want to focus on now is getting Kuroo through the rest of the evening.

✧ ✧ ✧

A few more hours of idle yet painful conversation maintained primarily by you, and you’re ushered off to bed. It’s barely even nine thirty, but you’re ready to pass out and stay comatose until the morning. And an early rise means you can leave even earlier.

You’re not sure what to make of this place. There’s love here. You’re sure of it. And you think Kuroo’s aware of it, too.

But it’s a different kind of love; one that’s shaped differently, that’s taken on a distinct pallor. A certain distance, maybe? Love expressing itself primarily as nagging concern – something that often doesn’t feel much like love at all. It’s a kind of love that’s difficult to swallow, one that makes you want to push someone away rather than seek them out.

But you can’t be sure of anything. You only know so much. And quite frankly, your head is starting to hurt from all the thinking and worrying.  

The room you’ve been relegated is Kuroo’s old bedroom, but you wouldn’t have guessed. There’s not much of him here; a few Shounen Jump’s here and there, a dusty volleyball sitting on the bookshelf next to a cheap-looking cat trinket.

There’s not much to imply that a teenage boy ever lived here, let alone a working adult. You wonder, briefly, how often Kuroo comes to visit. You can’t imagine he stays long.

The man in question looks far too big for this place, anyway. Even the double bed shoved up against the wall doesn’t look long enough to fit his entire body.

Unfortunately, it’s the only acceptable place to sleep in the room. There’s not even a couch for you to lie on, or even a spare futon.

Maybe you should’ve thought of this before agreeing to visit his mother for the evening.

But it’s too late now; the two of you are stationed on opposite sides of the room, both uncomfortably aware of the fact that there is, believe it or not, only one bed. You’re not against the idea of sharing a bed, even if for one night, but the prospect still feels… strange. Embarrassing, even.

Kuroo clears his throat, taking another perfunctory look around the room.

“I’ll just sleep on the floor,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, no, I—”

“I dragged you into this,” he smiles. “It’s the least I can do.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he’s already leaving the room. The door swings shut behind him softly, leaving just the slightest crack.

You take a quick moment to change in your pyjamas, sitting yourself down on the bed with a sigh.

There’s no way this whole charade wasn’t going to have its uncomfortable moments. You were well-aware of that when you’d entered into it. But it has certainly thrown you some curveballs. If you’d asked yourself three months ago if you’d thought you’d end up sitting on a bed in a stranger’s house, after what was perhaps the most uncomfortable dinner of your life, waiting for your fake boyfriend to return as he sought out a blanket so he could sleep on the floor, you would’ve thought you were quite mental.

But you don’t mind. The thought of Kuroo having to go through this on his own, being lambasted with questions about why he hasn’t settled down and why he isn’t expecting a child… That must be frustrating to bear solo.

You hear voices in the hallway. His mother.

“Oh, she gets cold at night,” you hear Kuroo say, “so we usually use two blankets.”

His mother tsks. “That sounds rather high maintenance.”

Your stomach twists a little at that. So, you didn’t succeed. As soon as you’re out of sight, the façade drops.

“God forbid she gets cold,” Kuroo mumbles.

There’s an awkward pause. Somehow, the silence feels more honest. Like both Kuroo and his mother can talk with no holds barred without you there. Seems there’s a lot you still don’t know.

“I just think the two of you don’t have much chemistry.”

The words jolt through you. It’s not real. Your relationship isn’t real. But for some reasons, those words sting. Is it because they mean you’ve failed to do your job well? You were supposed to be helping Kuroo get his mother off his back, not give her more things to pick at him for.

“Excuse me?” Even Kuroo sounds frustrated.

“She’s no Ritsuko.”

It’s the way she says the word that betrays its relevance.

The silence that follows is pregnant with tension.

Ritsuko must be an ex. But that’s none of your business. He’s not your real boyfriend.

“I don’t want her to be Ritsuko.”

You’ve never heard Kuroo’s voice like that. It’s sharp, tight, unfamiliar.

“I still think you made a mistake, Tetsurou.”

“Would you just drop it?” There’s an edge to his tone, like his voice is armed with a kind of sharpness that people don’t tend to direct towards their parents.

“Well, you know what they say,” his mother sighs, a familiar kind of parental condescension in her voice. “Mother knows best.”

“If you want me to respect your choices, then you have to respect mine.”

Those words seem to strike her silent, the only sound the thumping of feet along the hallway.  

The light of the hallway spills into the room as Kuroo pushes the bedroom door open, scowl on his face and blanket in hand.

You sit up a little straighter.

Should you say something? Were you supposed to have heard that? It seemed intense…

“Can I have a pillow?” He asks. The edge in his voice is gone as he turns to you, the resentment in his face replaced with exhaustion.

“Sure.” You reach behind you and grab one of the pillows, passing it to him.

“Thanks,” he sighs.

He pays you no mind as he starts preparing his ‘bed’ half a step away from you, tossing the blanket on the floor haphazardly. His back is turned, but you don’t need to see his face to know he’s scowling.

“Hey, Kuroo?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?” You ask gently.

He sighs, his shoulders sinking. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”

It’s almost comical, how ineffective that request is.

You reach out and take his hand. You’re not sure why; it’s instinct, more than anything.

But Kuroo turns around and looks at you, his eyes wide. The expression makes him look a few years younger, confused and hopeful.

“I’m willing to listen, if you need it.” Your voice is so, so quiet. Is it the right thing to do? Is this what he wants to hear? It’s hard to say. All you know is that he doesn’t deserve to go to bed in such a foul mood.

Kuroo swallows roughly, still staring at you. His hand tightens around yours. His palm feels rough; was that due to the years of volleyball?

He sighs, sitting himself next to you on the bed and leaning back against the wall. He’s still holding your hand.

“It’s just…” His voice is delicate; perhaps even childlike. “Every time I come here, it feels like I’m fourteen again.”

You nod. It’s easy enough to understand – and you’re sure a lot of people feel similarly – but…

“Why?”

Kuroo blinks rapidly for a moment, closing his eyes. “It’s like… any progress I’ve made is dashed, and I’m back to square one.”

“What do you mean?” You rack your brain for any idea of what he could be talking about. Kuroo’s always seemed so secure, so stable. Even when he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he goes at it with such confidence that it makes you feel like he’s got it all under control.

But that’s Kuroo at work.

It seems that his private life was an entirely different stadium – one he can’t navigate so smoothly.

He opens his eyes and looks at you.

There’s a lot he wants to say. You can see it in his eyes. Yet something seems to hold him back.

“I have a hard time letting people in,” he admits.

“Really?” That surprises you. And yet, it doesn’t.

Kuroo is the perfect picture of cordiality, with an enviable ability to get along with most people he meets. He’d been lavished with praise for it at work numerous times.

But cordial doesn’t mean vulnerable. And now you think about it, you can’t quite imagine him letting his walls down all that often.

“Mhm,” he nods. “I… struggle with being vulnerable.”

You nod slowly. The ‘shape’ of Kuroo becoming clearer in the fog. “If you don’t mind me asking… why?”

Kuroo drags his bottom lip through his teeth for a moment, deep in thought. “I think it’s because I’m afraid I’ll get left behind.”

It startles you. The honesty.

Maybe it’s because you’ve just been talking about vulnerability. Or maybe it’s because you’d given him the platform he needed tonight. But you couldn’t have prepared for the weight of those words, nor the way he said them.

“Kuroo…” You murmur. You’re not sure what there is to say. All you know is that you feel that, too. Maybe less intensely than him, but you understand.

“That, or I’ll break someone’s heart,” he sighs, running his hand spare hand down his face. “Every time I’m here, mum grills me about being single. Every damn time. And she likes to bring up…”

He trails off. You can make a good guess of what the rest of that sentence might be.

Ritsuko. It’s not your place to ask; but you can’t help but be concerned for him.

You let the silence sit for a moment. This conversation is for him – it’s his choice what you do and don’t discuss. Who knows, maybe asking about this Ritsuko would just bring him more distress.

“Mum really wants grandkids, if that wasn’t obvious,” he scoffs, running a hand through his hair.

You smile a little. “I figured.”

He presses his lips together, looking up at his ceiling. “I don’t… I don’t want to marry some poor girl while I’m young just to pump out a child or two to please my mother. I don’t want to start a family if it’s just going to collapse around the kids because me and their mother weren’t right for each other.”

It’s coming together in your mind. The need for a fake girlfriend. The fact his grandmother would be concerned enough to arrange a miai. The fact that, during your entire time working next to him, you hadn’t heard anything about a partner.

Kuroo Tetsurou is starting to make sense.  

“That sort of thing can really affect kids, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.”

His hand tightens around yours once more. You’d forgotten he was holding it. But, you suppose, touch from someone you trust can be a wonderful antidote for nerves.

“That, and…” He squeezes his eyes shut again, frowning. “It wouldn’t be fair on whoever I married just because it’s the ‘right’ thing to do according to my mother. It wouldn’t make either of us happy.” He pauses, his voice lowering ever so slightly. “It’d just be a waste of everyone’s time.”

“It sounds like a lot of pressure,” you say. It’s the truth.

Kuroo chuckles. “You could say that.”

He swallows, finally letting go of your hand. “Thanks for coming tonight, by the way. You saved me a lecture.”

“No problem,” you smile. “The food was good, at least.”

Kuroo cracks a small smile. You’re glad for it. He shifts forward on the bed and stands up, stretching his arms above his head. “I’m gonna try and sleep.”

“Good idea,” you nod.

Kuroo flicks the light off and the two of you settle down into your respective beds, shifting uncomfortably under the sheets. Yours feel new; a bit stiffer than you’d like, with all the firmness of that damned blouse you had to wear in high school. Uncomfortable as it is, it’s not the reason you feel so restless.

Today keeps running through your mind, random moments deciding to hang in your mind with startling clarity. Nothing had gone wrong, but it feels like nothing went right. It’s this strange limbo, a skinny path running flush against a mountain, hugged by a steep, seemingly unending drop.

Something clicks into place. Something about how Kuroo sees himself.

Kuroo Tetsurou doesn’t feel whole; he feels like a patchwork, a collage shambled together, drawn from a whole range of other people. Things that seem so certain to other people are lost in a fog for him; ideas about love, about family, about security.

For Kuroo, there’s doubt. A fear that something will fall apart. A fear that he’ll repeat the same mistakes as his parents – the feeling that he already has.      

Divorce tends to do that to people. To families. It’s not as simple as a family unit being cleft in two. Instead, it’s like they’re torn off into chunks, bits of themselves overlapping with bits of everyone else, but with edges that don’t line up nicely anymore. Even when the parents tell their kids they don’t need to pick sides, it feels like every choice you make, every little thing you say, betrays an allegiance that can be weaponised. It leaves people as a bunch of glued together fragments without a place to belong.

Some kids respond with a staunch loyalty to one parent, simplifying their experience into a straightforward tale of good and evil. Others are left adrift, lost in the knowledge that perhaps both parents are wrong, perhaps both have performed acts of cruelty against one another.

But it’s impossible to known which Kuroo is. You have your suspicions, of course, but you know better than to make assumptions.

You roll over onto your side, seeking out his shape in the dark.

“Hey, Tetsurou?”

“Yeah?” His voice is already laden with sleep.

“Thanks for opening up to me,” you murmur. “I really appreciate it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Then, a confused little chuckle. “Shouldn’t I be thanking you?”

It doesn’t sound like he’s teasing you. Thank God.

“Well, it can’t’ve been easy,” you say, trying to find the right words to express yourself. “So… thanks.”

He hums in response. “Yeah, well… thanks.”

Nothing more needs to be said.

As you finally drift off into an uneasy sleep, you hope that, at the very least, you’ve managed to bring your friend some comfort.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Dissonance. 

Word Count: 3.0k

Commissioned by the lovely @arthurtheghostmechanic​.

[Part One]

TW: Kidnapping, Captivity, Emotional Manipulation, Unhealthy Power Dynamics, Non-Graphic Violence, and Suffocation.

Every morning, Diavolo would help you get dressed.

It was a daily ritual, one that’d begun the first time you’d shown more interest in burning his gifts than wearing them, and he’d realized he liked the way you squirmed as his fingers brushed against your collarbone, his palms pressing against the dip of your back and his hands tracing the shape of your waist under the guise of fastening a row of clasps that’d been sewn in more for exorbity than security. You supposed this was how he intended to ‘court’ you, as he put it, or it was his favorite method, at least. The others came and went, and although he still occasionally took the time to bring you flowers from the castle’s garden or refuse to feed you at all until you let him feed you by hand, he always had an outfit waiting for you by the time you woke up, he always knew exactly how he wanted you to look, and he always helped you get dressed. Always. It was one of the few constants you could count on, with a man as busy as Diavolo.

Today, he was taking his time. Swabs of silky, scarlet fabric had already been draped over your form and adorned with just the right amount of black and gold to outweigh any individuality you might have retained, and yet, you could still feel warm breath ghost over your skin as he toyed with the strings of an already-bound corset, making you unsure whether he was still contemplating how to perfect it, or if he wanted to undo the intricate knots altogether. You could easily step away, finished or not. He’d positioned you to face a full-body mirror, one of the many scattered around the corners of his bedroom, but there was space, and he wouldn’t stop you, you were sure he wouldn’t stop you. Of all the things he was willing to do, raising a hand was where he drew the line, even if your stubborn neutrality often left him gritting his teeth and appealing to your sense of defeatism. It should’ve been a reassurance, it should’ve been a god-send, but in practice, his self-restraint only made you feel like the villain. If he wasn’t going to shove you away, then you’d have to shy back on your own. And if you did that, then you’d be the one to blame for his subsequent disappointment.

So, you stayed in place, glared at the floor, and wordlessly willed him to grow tired of watching you squirm sooner, instead of later.

Diavolo, however, was not as content with the silence as you were.

“You’ve been quiet, today,” He started, unprompted, unasked for. There couldn’t have been classes, that day. Clearly, he didn’t have anything better to do than draw your suffering out. “Is something wrong, my love?”

You could’ve told the truth. It would’ve been easy to, but there was some twisted, contorted part of you that still thought of Diavolo as someone distant, someone you shouldn’t upset, if only because it was so difficult to dampen his spirits, and he seemed so determined to keep them up. Even after he’d taken you away from the brothers, taken you away from the life you’d wanted, locked you into a gilded cage, and told you to sing for him, you still had to remind yourself to hate him. Fearing him was second nature, but loathing him was another burden entirely. Rather than spouting out the obvious, you let your eyes wander, past the mirror and to the well-decorated wall that lay beyond it. “I’ve been… with you for two weeks, and I haven’t seen anyone besides you and Barbatos,” You starters, letting your gaze fall onto a portrait of a young boy with gold eyes and crimson hair. It had to be Daivolo, but that wasn’t the surprising part - there was only Diavolo. No parents, father or otherwise, a theme that carried into many of the other decorative pieces, as you were beginning to notice. “Is it just the two of you?”

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” He chuckled, shrugging off your flat tone with all of his usual carelessness. If it was a sensitive topic, you couldn’t tell, but you could never tell, not with Diavolo. You’ve only seen him truly, genuinely affected a handful of times, and you doubted something as simple as a conversation would be the thing to finally leave a permanent impact. “If you’re worried there might be a lack of guests, don’t be. The only reason you haven’t met a diplomat or an ambassador or someone new and exciting is because of our budding arrangement.” He said it as if it were nothing, as if you’d just signed yourself into a contract you had yet to realize the full scope of. In his eyes, you might’ve. You were still trying to work out what exactly Diavolo thought your ‘arrangement’ was. “I thought it would be best to give you time. Humans can be such fickle creatures, and not all demons are as understanding as I am. I don’t want you saying the wrong thing to the wrong person while you’re still new to playing host.”

You should’ve known better than to press. You should’ve, but you pushed forward regardless, another singular pair of eyes in another all-but empty portrait working to spur you forward, despite your better judgment. “Still, you’re only a prince. Your father--”

“My father is asleep.” He spoke with the calm, practiced tone of someone who’d used the same excuse one too many times, of a child, scared and alone, trying to convince himself of something he didn’t really believe. “He has been, since the day he decided I was capable of ruling on my own, and while I’d be honored, I doubt he’s going to disturb his slumber to meet my chosen mate. He’s not a factor you should concern yourself with, darling.”

You were beginning to think there was nothing you should concern yourself with, not here, not when Diavolo thought of himself as so honorably, valiantly reliable. You hadn’t thought you’d miss that, about life with the brothers. You were left exhausted more often than not, in over your head with Mammon’s scheme’s or Lucifer’s standards or the twins’ insatiable habits, but at least you’d had enough to do to warrant exhaustion. You never thought you’d long to trip over a cursed book on the floor of Satan’s bedroom or find the door to Leviathan’s room blocked off by a dozen too many boxes, and yet, you found yourself waiting for it, sometimes, listening for an out of place scream, anticipating the next crisis. Diavolo said it was too much strain, for you. He said you shouldn’t be held responsible for a family so unpredictable.

He didn’t think you could handle it, so he sought out a way to handle you.

You bit down on the inside of your cheek. “That sounds lonely.”

There was a slight pause, a hint at a trace of hesitation. The closest thing you’d come to one, during your time with Diavolo. “It was.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Taking kind of prolonged stillness was unlike him, but Diavolo managed to redeem himself with a heavy sigh, a shake of his head, an arm wrapped around your waist as he slumped gingerly against you, leaning down as he slotted himself against your back. It was a heavy sort of tenderness, the type a desperate man might seek from a remorseless stone pillar, but your resolve felt a little less solid with every drum of his fingertips, every shaky breath he let echo against the back of your neck. You were the one to speak, though. If only to stop yourself from breaking first. “And that’s why I’m here, right?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because you’re lonely?”

You felt him stiffen against you, going rigid at the suggestion alone. “(Y/n), I never--”

“You have other people.” It was more frustration than anger, the sudden awareness that you’d been taken by him, because of him, for him, despite all the luxurious, loving ways he tried to dress it up. “Your father might be gone, but you have options. There’s an academy full of students who’d be happy to find themselves at your side, there’s a kingdom of subjects you could choose from, if you wanted to. Is that why you ran the exchange program? You just didn’t have enough options, you wanted to see what the other realms had to offer. Were you going to kidnap Solomon, if I wasn’t good enough?”

“I wasn’t looking for company,” He countered, his hold becoming a little more secure, growing a little more controlling. It was oppressive, one arm crossed over your stomach and the other over your chest, making it more difficult to inhale as you struggled to keep your breathing even, but somehow, his affection did little to comfort you. If anything, it just made you want to rip yourself away from him more. “When I found you, I wanted you. There’s no one else I’d consider--”

“You have Barbatos,” You went on, letting your hands curl into fists at your sides. “He’s your friend, and you have him, and you shouldn’t need me, too. Even if that wasn’t enough for you, Lucifer’s still there. He looks up to you, he’s loyal to you, if there was anything you needed, he’d go to the ends of the Earth to find it. You have him--”

“I used to have him,” Diavolo hissed, the words nearly muffled against the nape of your neck. “I had him, once, but it seems that someone has caused his attention to stray.”

Your jaw clenched shut, instantly, but you made a point of narrowing your eyes at his reflection. It was a small rebellion, one he barely seemed to notice, but it felt too right for you to really care about whether or not he deserved it. “I’m sorry,” You muttered, frantic irritation fading into mild, blatant displeasure. “I didn’t realize how much you hated it when your toys find other people to play with.”

Diavolo went tense. He went tense, he took in a sharp breath, closed his eyes, and with little more fanfare than that, he relaxed again, as calm and composed and infuriating as he always was.

This time, when his attention returned to your attire, it centered around the ribbon choker around the base of your neck, the fabric as soft as a newborn lamb and as dark as the Devildom would be, in the dead of night. His fingers slipped underneath the strip of material, and for a moment, you thought he’d tear it off completely, but he’d never been that kind.

Rather, he took his time, untying the loose knot and speaking, as he did so. You were beginning to hope he’d talk himself to death.

“Lucifer’s interests align with his heart. He’s smart, and I do value him, but he’s a sentimental creature. He only pledged himself to me because of Lilith, and now that you’ve given him something of Lilith, he’s satisfied. He doesn’t have a need for me, anymore.” The choker was pulled taunt, for a moment, cutting you off halfway through an inhale. It wasn’t suffocating, but Diavolo made no move to let go. “And while Barbatos will always be my closest companion, he is a servant. His loyalty to me is a loyalty to the crown, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he’d put a knife in my back, if he thought it would benefit the realm.”

It took you a moment to respond, your voice coming out weaker than you would’ve liked. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“It’s because I want you to be more than that,” He started, the words nearly a plea. Despite his tenderness and his airy tone, the choker was still biting into your neck, still making it harder and harder to breath. If anything, the task was only growing more difficult, one of your hands unconsciously finding its way to your neck, following the indents where the fabric cut into your skin. “You may choose not to believe me, but I’m not looking for power. I’m not looking for somone I have to chain to my side, if I want them to stay. I want you to love me. I want you to look at me and see someone who you couldn’t picture yourself going on without.” A pause, a ragged exhale. Again, you felt him shake his head, Diavolo leaning forwards just enough to kiss the top of your head. “That’s how I feel about you.”

By now, you were pulling at the choker, prying at it, trying desperately to put a hair’s width of space between your neck and that noose. It was barely a scrap, just a strip of material, and yet in Diavolo’s hands, it became a vice, a chain, a collar attached to a leash just couldn’t stop yanking. You kicked blindly, scrambling to throw your elbow into his stomach or tear at the choker or do something to make it a little easier to breath, but Diavolo only laughed, the sound low, throaty, warm and heavy and fatal.

“I do want you to love me. If nothing else, I want you to care for me. Worry about me, if you have to. I know beggars can’t be choosers in a situation like this.” When he released you, letting the choker fall to the floor and pulling away from you completely, saving your dignity wasn’t an option. You stumbled forward, gasping, choking, trying to cough air into your lungs as you groped at your now-tender skin, reddened bruises already forming a tight ring around your neck. Diavolo watched you passively, letting you stumble forward and brace yourself against the standing mirror. “I want you to love me,” He went on, slowly. There was a step forward, a footfall softened by the slightest trace of reluctance, and Diavolo’s hand came to rest on your shoulder. “But I’ll find a way to live with it, if you have to fear me.”

It was all you could do to close your eyes as you fought to catch your breath, to rest your forehead against the cool, welcoming surface of the mirror. You couldn’t see your reflection, but you didn’t have to - your throat ached, throbbed, and when you forced yourself to give him a reply, it was raspy, as jagged as all the many things you wanted to drive into your kidnapper’s anatomy, at the moment. “I can’t believe I ever felt bad for you.”

Diavolo only grinned, letting you catch the edge of the expression in the corner of his eye as he stepped forward. A firm hand came to rest on the small of your back, but it was fleeting, chaste, as far from comfort as the light, almost unnoticeable kiss he pushed into your temple. “I’ve never been one for pity.”

With that, he stepped away from you completely, leaving you hunched over, your body shaking and your pride stomped so far into the ground, you doubted you’d ever nurse it back to its full health. You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve let him go, given yourself time to recover, and resigned yourself to spending the rest of the day sobbing your eyes out into satin sheets, but there was something burning in your chest, something hot and rough and ruthless, as it urged you to speak, to yell, to scream. You didn’t know if barking after Diavolo like his disloyal mutt would do anything to sate it, but there was a chance that it might, and that was a chance you were willing to chase after like your life depended on it.

“You can’t keep me here.” That was enough for him to pause, to glance over his shoulder as he moved to tell you that he was already doing just that, but you faster than him, this time. “I won’t let you keep me here. I’m going to get out, and once I do, I’m going to put myself so far out of your reach, you’ll be lucky to remember what I look like, by the time I’m done.”

He wasn’t facing you, but he didn’t have to be. You could hear his expression drop, his smugness not disappearing, but dampening. “I’ve told you, (Y/n), the brothers think you’re in the human realm, and the other exchange students have yet to express their concern. There’s nothing Lucifer or his--”

“Fuck Lucifer.” That earned you the slightest flinch, a subtle delay as he finally turned towards you, but you were past the point of patiently waiting for his reaction, for his approval. It was almost sickening, in retrospect, how you’d given him the benefit of the doubt after he’d kidnapped you, after he’d failed to have the decency to show a shred of remorse. He thought you were going to sit pretty and wait to be impressed, and you had to prove to him that you wouldn’t be so spineless. Brothers or no brothers. “I’m not locked in a tower. I’m not helpless. I don’t need to wait around for someone else to save me. I’ll crawl out of here, if I have to. I’ll claw my way out. I don’t care what I have to do, I will get away from you.”

You almost expected him to lash out. You might not blame him after that, but to your relief and your disgust, his composure never faltered. He didn’t raise a hand, did storm out or take you by the hair or do something violent and ugly and expected. It didn’t matter, though. His aggression was repressed, but that didn’t mean it was concealed, not when you could make it out in every clench of his jaw, in the way his head cocked just a little too far to the side. In the stretched, seamless, sadistic smile that soon found its way to his lips, only reassuring you that your new resolve would’ve been necessary, whether or not you were the one to provoke him.

“I’d like to see you try.”

[shinebrightlikeanarwhal]

Travis-centered plots because I Like fix it’s… (I just finished typing them all, I’m ashamed for my sinful brain oml)

- Larry and Travis having once been friends but being torn apart by Travis’ father. Larry keeping an eye on Travis for years but then turning his attention to Sal, whom in turn receives the sudden disdain of Travis.

Sal confronts Travis in the bathrooms one day and Larry listens from the door. Eventually Sal talks Travis into tears. He confesses to being jealous of Sal and not wanting Larry to stop focusing on him, even if Larry ends up hating him. How his dad would beat him if Travis and Larry ever got close again. Larry barges in and holds Travis close. They reconcile (Sal opting to let the boys talk, clearly not in the mood to see Enemies to Lovers tonguing den in the school bathroom.

They uproot and destroy the cult, blah blah blah, Happily ever after and Travis gets help for his trauma induced depression and anxiety.

- Travis has been off for a few days. He doesn’t antagonize anyone. Philip does more talking and ginger touching that Travis violently jerks away from. During class he barely responds and teachers don’t try to force him. Sal didn’t expect to find Travis sleeping on a bench one day. His worn shoes now tattered with holes at the bottom. His black eye prominent but accompanied by a busted lip and what looked to be severe damage to his legs.

Not sure how he did it, but Sal managed to convince Travis to come home with him. Introduces Travis to Henry and leads him to the bathroom where he washed off and got treated. His damage was severe and Sal really wanted to call the police but just seeing a fearful Travis weened him off the idea.

Larry was not too pleased to find Travis at Sals. He almost yelled until he noted Travis look at his raised hand and cower from him. Larry pausing and pulls Sal to the side to understand. Of course they don’t know the full story but it’s enough to have Larry texting the group for help. Most were curious about what could lead them to wanting to help Travis. Ash, however, seemed to know a lot.

They find out about Travis’ abuse, the cult. Travis helps a little. He is still terrified of them but they start to grow on him with time. He even allows contact with Sal rarely, who shows him his face during a bonding moment at the dead of night. Larry makes playlists and CDs to help Travis get accustomed to loud noises (many of which are songs Larry personally thinks Travis would enjoy.

After the gang destroys and puts the cult behind bars. No demons, no murders, and no dead friends. Sal manages to convince Travis to report his father, thankfully they kept his clothes to give to the state police, Todd refused to trust the local police after further investigating the cult and their connections.

Healing and coping, cuddling and coddling. Travis getting the love and attention he deserves! Could end with him dating someone or him just being under their care for a while.

—Salvis but Sal is a bit more aggressive with Travis. Fuck it ABO, Travis is a very spicy omega that pretends to be a Beta. Sal is a strong scented alpha, like it’s a musky and domineering scent compared to his appearance. Larry is an alpha, though his scent is murky and smoky, and he doesn’t act like the stereotypical alpha. Travis nitpicks them like usual, though sometimes they are too distracted by the nice smell seeping off of him. Larry sneers and asks if Travis mom scented him before school. Travis is upset at this. Much more emotional than usual. Sal notes the spike in scent and jabs Larry.

Uh oh, Travis is presenting in the bathroom, and beta Philip isn’t able to fight off the alphas coming to investigate the scent, thankfully Sal is here to soothe and calm the terrified Travis while his friends help fend off the other students.

Mr. Phelps is pissed about an omega son. Travis is constantly scented with distress. He isn’t allowed to talk about it but everyone can smell it. They are well aware of Travis’ fluctuating weight, fatigue and his tan skin turning pale and bruised worse than before. Larry is annoyed by this but can’t tell whether it’s the scent affecting him or his stern belief in protecting omegas from abusive alphas.

Sal hates it, he knows he felt the mate bond but Travis doesn’t seem to notice. Travis’ suffering eats away at Sal until he all but corners Travis and propositions him to save him from his father and give him sanctuary. It takes a lot to convince Travis. Heck, he has to promise Larry wouldnt hurt him (Larry later seeks Travis to reconcile their bad blood).

They get to know eachother. Sal is head over heels and watching Travis grow and blossom into his omega blood. Travis starts falling for someone else and Sal tries to be supportive (until he can’t even look at Travis without feeling heartache). But Travis notes he doesn’t love ____ And follows his heart to Sal. They bond, they love and boom, happy little family. (With three cute babies because Travis and Sal deserve happy families)

Larvis: roughly the same as the salvos ABO but Larry straight up picks up Travis and carries him home. Travis tries to fight but is swaddled and pampered until he’s fast asleep and purring in Larry’s arms.

Mr. Phelps doesn’t have much ground to stand on when he tries to take Travis back. Larry confirming that Travis is his mate and based off of Phelps’ beliefs he should reside with his mate.

Travis is surprised his father backs off so easily (because how could the pastor refute what he preaches?? Such blasphemy would be heard by the church blah blah blah). Larry and Travis talk and Larry admits that they are indeed mates, he never brought it up for Travis’ health. He was already struggling to care for himself, a mating bond would send his already feeble body and fragile mind spiraling. Larry also admits he knew they were mates ever since he presented, which wasn’t that long after entering highschool. But, Travis was so proud to be ‘normal’ and not some horny mess like the others. He also didn’t like seeing Travis harass and bully others, which probably aided in his aggressive rejection of the omega and prolonged Travis’ presentation.

Life goes on and Larry and Travis are happily married with four kids (two more in the oven, because Larry is a very affectionate husband). Cult was handled and Sal is NOT dead and very much the worlds best uncle.

-Travis having a hot girl summer.

That’s it. That’s the plot.

Thotty church twink marching about in short shorts and tank tops (sinful!) showing off his goodies to the masses. Larry shamelessly offers to partake, and gets thrown for a whirlwind when Travis’ phat ass is delightfully uncontrollable. Sal jokingly shoots his shot and winds up slumped in the back of the church from immaculate head.

Mr. Phelps is away so the thot is out to play. (Courtesy of Mama Phelps aiding and abetting her sons growth as a person. He may be throwing it back to the boys he once sneered at but at least he’s nicer to people)

-Travis being rescued from the Phelps home after a concerned report to the state police. The church closed and his father put behind bars for many accounts of child abuse and neglect and the disappearance of Travis’ mother.

Sal and gang are curious about what the new home will do to Travis after months of rehabilitation, and all damn near faint when they see Travis with long pink hair and a cute sun dress marching into the school. Directly towards them and apologizing for his horrible treatment of them, specifically Sal. They can’t believe his change at first but after weeks of watching him, he seems genuinely happier.

This new happiness starts to get unsettling to Larry, who watches Travis and Philip be closer than before. He shouldn’t care he hates Travis! But god he wished the boy would wrap his arms around his and march down the halls. He would kill to get surprise back hugs or do the hugging. He wanted to share lunch with Travis. Be hand fed meals and have his mouth cleaned whilst being scolded.

Fuck, he’s in love! He thought he nipped that in the bud when Sal started getting bullied by Travis. But no, Travis being rescued from his awful father and being a genuinely good person from then on was astounding. Hell, he even brought Sal treats as an apology for walking in on him with his mask off once. Sal said it was fine but Travis babbled ok about feeling bad because Sal looked terrified even though Travis didn’t think Sal was any less cool. (Yes, Sal cried in his room about how much it meant for someone to say that).

For fucks sake, Travis had pictures upon pictures of his new family and their pets. PETS. He had dooogs, god Larry lost his mind seeing Travis jogging around town with dogs in shorts and a sweaty, almost see through tank top!! He’s too gay for this.

He finally confesses, maybe tries to play it off as a joke, but Travis just smiles sweetly and pecks his cheek. He’s sorry but he’s already dating someone. Larry tries not to let his disappointment show, but he just can’t feel the need to go to school for a couple of days. Hides out in his tree house and just smokes. Cause, cmon.. who’d wanna date him?? All he does is smoke and play around! He hasn’t had a stable relationship in years and most he’s known for is sleeping with whoever he deems the hottest.

Sal notices his behavior and tries to comfort him, not sure why Larry is like this, by offering to introduce him to his partner. Maybe they have a friend Larry is interested in. Larry wants to be supportive but he really doesn’t care to see Sals new beau(ty). He really just wanted to camp out in the tree house and smoke away the pain. Or, he did until he sees Travis and Sal holding hands and nuzzling on the couch one day. Sals legs on Travis’ and Travis combing Sals hair. Larry felt like his world came crashing down, his best friend?? And his first and worst crush?? The crush that sent him spiraling for what could have been weeks? Sal is innocent, he didn’t know that Larry was madly in love with Travis. Didn’t know that Travis so politely rejected him and offered to cease contact if Larry felt he couldn’t be around him.

Larry wasn’t much of a romantic after that. He played around with whoever he felt needed love. His partying spiraling out of control in adult hood. Travis tried to contact him and help him find a good person, but any attempts to help Larry ended with Larry crying to him drunkenly. Asking why he wasn’t good enough, why he couldn’t have been Sal. Travis wasn’t allowed near Larry after Larry drunkenly made advances at him, he doesn’t blame Larry he’s extremely emotional, but Sal felt Larry would only get worse the more they stayed in contact, so they were kept apart.

Larry never loved anyone as much as he loved Travis Fisher.

-Last one was a sadder Onesided Larvis, this one is Larry teasing and cornering Travis so much that Travis tries to shock him by kissing him. He came home with some hickies and a very prominent limp.

They’re not saying, yet, but Wingman Sal is politely judging Travis into Larry’s arms. They are constantly alone together. Larry blowing Travis’ back out in an abandoned amusement park when the others split up to explore. “He sprained his ankle running from a shadow” Hmph, Travis smelt like axe. He HATES the smell of axe… but okay lovebirds.

Sal has 100% walked in on the secret lovers getting frisky when moms out. Later helps Travis shop for more pretty clothes, because who wouldn’t want a shopping body??? That’s almost illegal to not take the opportunity.

Larry eats ass. A lot. Travis can literally be on FaceTime shopping with Sal and Larry just slips under the covers and enjoys his fill of boyfriend cheekies~ yum!

Travis, as revenge, will give the gawk gawk 9000. Larry is NOT safe if he thinks Travis has forgotten the embarrassment of Sal chuckling and telling him he has to go walk his homework. He could be on the phone with his boss or Lisa and Travis will give the sloppiest top he’s ever had. (Praise the son for horni bratty bottoms)

[yongtxt]

one summer’s day [yuta]

word count: 6.5k words

characters: parent!yuta x parent!reader ft. 95 line and a child

genre: angst. just suffering

warnings: mentions of illnesses, hospitals, and deaths. includes a bit of smoking, too. a ton of inaccurate medical information.  yuta has self-deprecating and self-destructive tendencies

author’s note: this is my third (and last!!!) hospital-based fic and i’m running out of ways to describe a hospital. this is emotionally taxing but this was so fun to write! also i tried out a new format so i hope it looks okay? (unedited but not rlly)

Nakamoto Mai’s summers were always spent basking in the white heat of the sun with the salty water of the ocean’s waves splashing against her skin. Your husband would hold her up by her arms, wading them ashore to where you were watching them over, lounging on a beach towel with your knees hugged to your chest.

Yuta would set his daughter on the sand, allowing her to run off to where her short limbs could take her—chasing off the seagulls that would land near her vicinity. He would make his way to you, dripping with water, and he would tackle you onto the ground just to tease you and hear your sweet laugh that was filled with nothing but love.

It wouldn’t take long before Mai would scurry back to her parents, out of breath and her plump cheeks glowing a shade of red you were already too familiar with. She’d crawl into Yuta’s arms while you’d carefully smear on a thick glob of aloe vera gel on her face, poking the tip of her nose and making her giggle.

For a family that resided in the urban city, you always appreciated the time you got to spend in the beaches of Daecheon with the most important people in your life; Yuta, your high school sweetheart that you got to marry two years after your first child was born, and Mai, the physical proof of the love you shared with him.

You had Mai at a time that was least expected. At the early age of twenty-one, bearing a child was the curveball that threw your and Yuta’s life into disarray. Your wishes of traveling outside the country were put to a halt and Yuta’s plans of dabbling into his long-time hobby of soccer were withheld; you were both forced into joining the workforce to afford to raise a child that you weren’t even sure you wanted to have in the first place.

But it was in the way you heard her steady heartbeats at your first ultrasound, how it immediately made your resolve waver. The look of pure adoration Yuta held the first time he’d felt her kicking in your stomach, it was a look you’ve never seen before—a look that made it feel like it was all worth it.

The day came when she was finally born into the world, holding onto your thumb as you held the newborn baby onto your chest. You knew right then and there that all of the doubts and worries you’ve had coming into your pregnancy, it didn’t matter anymore as long as you had Mai and Yuta with you.

It wasn’t easy to be parents at such a young age. To be able to juggle parenthood and your respective careers, you and Yuta wouldn’t dare say that you’ve come close to mastering the skill but you were sure close to it. Mai had a wonderful upbringing despite the many hardships you and Yuta have gone through. She managed to grow up in an environment that emanated warmth and affection, unaware of her parents’ sacrifices of their young adulthood to be able to give her the life she deserved.

Spoiled, as others may think, but she was her parents' pride and joy. Neither of you wouldn’t want her to be treated anything less than a princess should. The smile Mai always had on, you would do everything in your power to keep it.

-

As pampered as she was, most of it came from a place of having to treat her especially with care and attention more than a normal child would need because Mai was a chronically ill child. Born with a weak heart, it was a miracle that she even survived the delivery to start with.

She had always been sickly therefore trips to her many pediatricians weren’t unusual for your family, already having familiarized with most of the doctors and nurses who usually took care of her at your local hospital.

Mai had a lively personality, leading an active lifestyle spent running and playing around all day, but her heart defect caused her to be easily tired. Her constant shortness of breath put her in danger thus her pediatricians had made it a note to always keep an out for her.

When Mai fell into a continuous fever after your family’s trip to the beach, you didn’t think anything of it because of how frequently it happened. Yuta made you go to work and leave Mai in his care while he still had another day of his paid leave, reassuring that she would be fine as long as he was there to take care of her.

That same morning, Mai clambered off her bed—a little too early than her usual wake-up—and waddled into her parents’ bedroom, still burning high off her fever. She reached out for her father’s sleeping form on the bed, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt.

“Papa, it hurts.” She said once Yuta had groggily sat up to properly tend to his child’s cries, seeing the clumps of tears forming at the corner of her eyes. The sight was enough to jostle him awake, alarmed.

He pulled her off the ground and plopped the five-year-old onto his lap, worry growing in the pit of his stomach. It was only in rare cases when Mai’s pain would bring her to tears, indicating how much she was hurting. She looked worse than what he remembered the night before; her breathing still irregular as it always was, but her skin was paler than normal and sweat formed in her temple—it didn’t look like she was suffering her regular lapses.

Yuta asked, “Where is it hurting, Mai?”

She hesitantly pointed to her chest, to where her heart was. Without another question asked, he hurriedly grabbed his car keys from the bedside table. Her pediatricians told you and Yuta of her risk of chest pains and how they shouldn’t treat it lightly considering that she was merely a child. If it goes beyond what Mai could handle, she should immediately see the professionals to get treated.

In his sleepwear, Yuta drove to the hospital as fast—but safely—as he could. Anxious fingers drummed against the steering wheel while Mai sat at the back in her booster seat, her stuffed toy of a dolphin enveloped in her arms.

Briefly checking themselves in the emergency ward, some of the nurses who were already familiar with the Nakamotos ushered them towards the waiting room the moment they had spotted Yuta carrying Mai into the entrance.

He always sat near the decorative fish tank, knowing how much Mai loved watching the fishes swim around. It distracted her from the dread that came with the never-ending blood tests and x-rays she was required to take. It was effective almost every time, but it seemed like that day wasn’t like any normal day.

Mai stilled in her father’s arms in the time they spent in the waiting room, her eyes sewn shut and her lips clamped together. Watching her choking in her sobs and unable to do anything about it, it only broke Yuta’s heart more than it already has.

He let out a shaky breath, wanting the day to be over with already.

-

You entered Mai’s room in haste, slamming the door open as you heaved heavy pants. Still in your work attire, you dropped your bags onto the tiled floor and hurried to your child’s side.

“Mama!” Mai exclaimed, still the cheery child that she was. Yuta, who sat on a chair beside the bed, jumped at her sudden yell and whipped his head to his side to find you already reaching out to her.

You carefully cradled her into the crook of your neck, stroking her hair. She donned a hospital gown and she was hooked onto several machines, patches on her chest for the cardiac monitor and a nasal cannula in her nose; the situation seemed worse than what she let on, how her eyes lit up at your arrival, happy and enthusiastic, opposed how grave of a situation it looked.

“How are you feeling, Mai?” You asked in hopes that your worry wasn’t evident in your tone, holding onto her comparatively smaller hands in yours. “Are you still hurt anywhere?”

She shook her head fervently, a wide grin adorning her beautiful features, “No, no! I feel much better now!”

You let out a breathy laugh, pinching her cheek and making her whine at your doting. Ease washed over you, the tension you had on your shoulders released almost in an instant at the assurance that Mai wasn’t hurting anymore and she was okay.

“I told you that you should never lie about what you’re feeling, Mai.” Yuta spoke up beside you and for a second you’ve forgotten that he was there at all, how quiet he’s been since you came. He looked exhausted, pieces of hair sticking out in different directions and a frown etched on his face.

“But it’s the truth!” Mai pouted her lips, glaring at her father who could only let out a faint chuckle.

You turned to Yuta and leaned over to place a kiss on his forehead, lingering for a moment longer. You wanted to apologize to him for leaving him to deal with it alone, but you knew he would just brush it off with him as the type of person who’d bottle in his stress to not worry those around him.

“Was it really necessary to confine her?” You asked, wrapping an arm around Yuta’s head and pulling him to your side in an attempt to console him—yourself, too, in his touch.

Of all the times you had to run Mai to the emergency ward, it has never come to a point where she needed to stay a day longer in the hospital. The machines she was hooked up on were usually used, but her tests and x-rays were possible to accomplish within the day. There usually was no need to confine her.

“They found an anomaly in one of her tests, her doctors wanted her to stay the night while they made sure that everything’s alright.” Yuta said as quietly as he could, wanting the conversation to be kept strictly between the two of you. He doubted Mai would even understand, but he didn’t want to take his chances of scaring his own child.

You bit the insides of your cheek, the return of the panicked thuds in your heart almost deafening. You replied, “It’s probably a mistake on their part, it’s gonna be fine.”

Yuta wasn’t quite sure if you meant to say it to him or to yourself. Either way, he appreciated it nonetheless. Having you beside him was already a weight lifted off him, he had less to worry about now that you were with him.

Mai, sensing the heavy tension in the room like the smart and sensible girl that she was, shuffled closer to her parents’ side of the bed but Yuta was quick to stop her from doing so. He wouldn’t want to risk snapping off her tubes, a lesson they had to learn the hard way before. She frowned, grabbing her father’s arm instead.

“Really, I’m okay now!” Mai was persistent even against the helpless expressions her parents wore, determined to make them believe so. She added, “Papa said that we can go home once mama comes so we can leave now, right?”

“We have to make sure that you’re actually fine, Mai. We have to stay a little longer.” You tried to smile at her, to make it seem like nothing was wrong. You cupped her face into the palm of your hand, caressing her skin with your thumb. “Is that okay?”

“I guess so.” She huffed, but her grimace was gone as soon as it appeared when you attacked her with a claw to tickle her stomach.

Yuta joined in eventually, hesitant still, but he relented just to hear Mai’s laughter—her hearty laughs that never failed to light up the room and make them feel better. He wondered just how much pain she was actually in to be able to hide it this well or was she even in pain at all like she had claimed.

She was acting as if she was perfectly fine but then again, Mai was a child who never liked to see people worrying. Much like him, he realized.

It took hours before one of Mai’s main pediatricians came knocking on the door, hours of agonizing torture on your and Yuta’s end. When you let Doctor Kang into the room, Mai was in the middle of eating dinner that his Uncle Taeyong had kindly cooked and dropped off at the hospital at the news of his niece’s confinement.

Mai visibly perked at the familiar man, waving her hand wildly to greet the doctor she had known for as long as she could remember. If she thought about it hard enough, almost all of her early memories included Doctor Kang, having been to hospitals so much to the extent that doctors no longer feared her unlike most children would.

“I assume you feel better now?” Doctor Kang asked in a playful tone, making his way to the side of Mai’s bed while you followed suit behind him. With her mouth full of chicken, she could only give him a high-spirited thumbs up. He chuckled, “That’s great to hear, Mai.”

“Us adults are going to talk for a bit so just continue eating what Uncle Taeyong gave you.” Yuta said, ruffling Mai’s hair. She nodded, too engrossed in her seahorse-shaped nuggets to be defiant that she wasn’t included.

Doctor Kang led you and Yuta to the corner of the room where there was a couch you could sit on. Yuta’s hand found yours subconsciously as you braced yourself for what Mai’s pediatrician had to say.

“Based on Mai’s medical records, she was born with a congenital heart defect, yes?” Doctor Kang asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his white coat.

“Yes, but other doctors told us that it wasn’t life-threatening.” You remarked, already defensive. You were about to rise in your seat if it wasn’t for Yuta’s hold on you. Doctor Kang’s expression remained calm despite your reaction that you assumed he already anticipated. With a smaller voice, you said, “She’s been completely fine ever since.”

Doctor Kang nodded, “That is true but there’s a sudden spike in one of her tests, Mrs. Nakamoto. We’ve run it multiple times already to make sure but it looks like Mai is now prone to convulsions and epilepsy-like symptoms.”

“Convulsions? Epilepsy?” You trailed off, disliking the taste it left on your tongue. You felt Yuta’s grip on you tighten. “Isn’t this a bit too unexpected? What caused this?”

“These things just happen if you were born with a heart defect, we can never tell when it occurs. The most we can do is treat it accordingly.” Doctor Kang said, and you didn’t bother hiding the breath of relief you released. It was treatable, at least. “Expect that her health will be unstable as we’re yet to find out how her body will react so I’m advising that Mai should stay here for the meantime so we could monitor her closely.”

“She’ll be okay, right?” Yuta spoke for the first time since Doctor Kang arrived, his voice quiet and unsure. “Mai will get better?”

Doctor Kang sighed through his nose, pushing up his glasses, “We will do everything in our power to take care of her but you have nothing to be worried about, Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto. Your daughter is a strong girl.”

The said girl sat on her hospital bed, clueless to her parents’ slow descent to their anxieties they kept suppressed for so long.

-

Yuta stared at Mai’s serene face, her figure curled into a fetal position as she let out snores without care. He stood from a distance, leaning against the wall while you sat on a stool beside him. You shared the same worn-out appearance as your husband, dark circles and all.

A week has passed since Mai was confined in the hospital and it hasn’t gotten any better since. Her temperature kept fluctuating and she spent most of her nights switching her nasal cannula to an oxygen mask for a higher dosage of oxygen, unable to breathe properly anymore whenever she tried to fall asleep. She was also coughing a lot more, swelling in the most random parts.

Mai’s condition was getting worse by the day; unfortunately, it was taking its toll on you and Yuta as well, and you hated how much it showed.

“I’m killing her.” Yuta managed to choke out in the midst of his cries, his unkempt nails digging into the palm of his hands.

“You’re not killing her.” You snapped, incapable of even bringing yourself to rise from your seat to embrace him as much as your mind wanted to. Your body felt too exhausted, emotionally and physically too drained to function. You settled on holding his hand instead, to keep him from hurting himself as you’ve already instinctively known of his mechanisms. “You’re just panicking.”

“My father died because of the same illness, it’s hereditary. I passed the curse onto my child.” He wept, finding his solace in the way your thumb was rubbing circles onto the back of his hand.

“Mai is not gonna fucking die, Yuta.” You said, much more sternly this time with a tiny hint of aggravation seeping through in your rise of tone. You didn’t even want to think of the possibility of your daughter’s death, the thought alone brought tears to your eyes. You clicked your tongue, “Please, you have to trust your daughter a little more.”

Burying his face into his free hand, he let out shallow breaths. You sighed, but it didn’t bear animosity nor ill will, you were just tired—tired of pretending that you weren’t as in equal distress as he was. You couldn’t let anybody know of your vulnerabilities, especially not to your husband who was already suffering as it is.

Forcing yourself of energy, you pushed yourself up from your stool and took Yuta in your arms. You let him cry onto your shoulder that night, your own tears damping the back of your hand.

Despite that you were just human with the same capacity for emotions as much as the next person, you needed to be strong for your family. You didn’t know who else could take care of them if not you. 

-

There were days Yuta thought it was gonna get better. A fool that he was, truly.

Days when Mai’s uncles would come to visit their favorite niece, Taeyong with his arms full of newly bought toys for them to play with and Johnny with his shoulders carrying bags and bags of children’s books he wanted to read to her, and days when he’s able to leave work early and she’s gets to spend time with both of her parents by her side.

Those were the days Yuta never wanted to end because only in those times would he see again the glint in Mai’s eyes that she had lost, the glow she radiated in her elation. She’d be talkative, she had so many stories to tell and Yuta would never get tired of hearing all of it. So full of life and childlike charisma, it was as if everything was back to normal—except it wasn’t.

Days like those would always end in nights of suffering and agony for your family. Mai would lay on the hospital bed in a cold sweat, fighting a battle she wasn’t winning and there was nothing he could do to help alleviate the pain she was feeling. The monotonous beeping of her machines had become her lullabies, it would drown out your storytelling that used to lull her asleep.

Yuta was in a bad headspace, that he knew. Whenever he looked at you, he was reminded of it; how reliant he was of you for emotional support. The guilt he felt was overwhelming, it almost threatened to pour. He hears your desperate cries at night and your silent prayers, he knew how exhausted you were and there would be times he wanted to just say that you didn’t have to put up a tough and optimistic persona for Mai, for him.

But he would be lying if he did so. He was crumbling, he wasn’t in the clearest of mindset.

There would be instances so extreme that he would wish that he could just stay in his office and never return to the hospital, to never face his harsh reality and pretend that this wasn’t his.

Yuta would think to himself, who am I kidding?

He shouldn’t have ever met you and gotten you pregnant, Mai wouldn’t have to endure the pain he had caused her by being his child, but he was selfish. He had to sow what he reaped, to see through his curse that he jinxed his family with.

-

“Papa, look!” Mai called from where she splayed across the hospital bed, Yuta looked over his shoulder to see her proudly presenting her finished work of the LEGO set of a beach house that you had bought for her. She had a toothy grin on her face, showing off the pieces that came with it. “It’s me, papa, and mama! Look!”

“You’re already done with it?” He chuckled, walking over to see what she had been working on diligently for hours. His heart squeezed, noticing how she purposely customized the pieces to resemble your family’s own beach house in Daecheon; from the missing panels of the fences that he ruined and the placements of the flower pots you tended.

“Is this supposed to be me?” He asked, picking up a figurine that she had messily painted its hair with black acrylic to match his. She nodded enthusiastically. He laughed, “Mai, this is really good!”

“Yeah, I worked really hard on it!” She giggles, stifling a cough. Yuta rubbed his hand over her back to soothe her, kissing the top of her head to make her know of his appreciation of her hard work. A genuine smile on his face for once.

He always wondered how Mai made it so easy to melt all of his troubles and anxieties away. Her tiny body was capable of so much love, she lit up his darkest days so effortlessly. It made him feel so loved to know how much his daughter thought of him.

Yuta wanted to curse himself for all the times that he thought of himself badly. Regardless of his desperate pleads and regrets, he knew full well that he loved Mai too much to not wish her into existence. 

He had to work on negating his thoughts that fantasized about his own destruction. If Mai had known how badly he spoke of himself, he knew she wouldn’t like it—perhaps it would even shatter her image of him of the always optimistic, always confident father that he built.

His self-deprecation will not get the best of him again, for his mental stability and his family’s.

-

With his phone pressed against his ear with one hand, Yuta held up a lit cigarette in the other. The pungent smell of tobacco lingered in the air, he inhaled its remnants deeply like a depraved man would.

“Papa, when are you coming home? Mama sucks at doing the fishes’ voices!” Mai’s voice pierced in his ear, and Yuta heard you laughing from the background. His daughter’s voice sounded hoarse, but he didn’t let it sway him from souring her mood.

Tapping the ash off his stick, he said, “I’m almost done with work, okay? I’ll come home soon.”

Home, it was an odd term to call the bleak white-walled room that confined his child. As the days dragged on, Yuta has grown to accept it for what it is. While it was a prison to most, Mai treated the hospital room as she would to her own bedroom and the people who surrounded her were mostly to blame for it.

Because for Mai, it felt just like home whenever Uncle Taeyong would come and visit. He’d pull out papers and paints from his bag and encourage her to be creative. They would pin up their artworks on the walls for everybody to see, and she would giggle when she’ll overhear her uncle getting scolded by you for making a mess of the splatters they made, but he would always be forgiven for most of their works was of their family (uncles included; Uncle Taeyong wouldn’t allow them to be excluded).

It felt like home whenever Uncle Johnny would sneak around past visiting hours to bring Mai a new stuffed toy to add to her ever-growing collection. He would excuse himself that it was urgent, that the toys helped her sleep better at night, but they all knew that he was just too excited to see his niece’s reaction to waste a day. A wide variety of different water animals piled up near the bed, all courtesy of her uncle’s wallet and his tendency to spoil her.

Even on Mai’s worst days, it still felt like home. When she would curl into a position with her small fists digging into her chest that felt too constricted, completely unable to lift another finger because her body would be in too much pain, Yuta would be there to hold her hand. You would place her head on your lap, running your fingers through her hair to quietly soothe her until Mai would begin to forget that she was ever in pain.

Yuta hated the hospital, he hated how dreary it was. But it was home. As long as he had his family with him, it didn’t matter where home was—home was never just a place, it was a feeling he felt whenever he was with you and Mai. The hospital he had associated with nothing but misery for so long, Room 345 had become a place he could now look forward to coming home to.

Yuta dropped his cigarette and crushed it with the sole of his shoe, eager to wrap things up for the day so he could see his family again.

-

On her twenty-first day in the hospital, Mai had still shown no signs of recovery. Yuta was so sure that his nightmare was coming to life.

“We did everything we could, but her health is deteriorating every day and we’re running out of ways to keep her symptoms at bay.” Doctor Kang bowed his head, his guilty apologies falling on deaf ears.

Yuta’s fist collided with the wall, a loud crack resonating from its sheer impact.

“It’s unfortunate but for now the machines are keeping her alive.” Doctor Kang added, his voice lost in the midst of your inconsolable hysterics and Yuta’s fit of rage. “We’re still doing the best we could, but I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto…”

The voice in Yuta’s head grew louder and louder, screaming that it was his fault, his fault, his fault. This time, he wasn’t able to shut it out.

-

When you were still carrying Mai in your womb—only three months into your pregnancy with barely a bump to show off—Yuta made a promise to give his unborn child the entire world.

He wanted to be the best father, the kind of father who would be capable of protecting them from all the harsh reality and the kind of father who would be by their side for all of their ups and downs. He would not miss a moment of his child’s life, he would watch them grow in front of his very eyes to be a person he’d be proud to call his child.

But now he couldn’t believe his eyes, Mai at five years old was lying on a hospital bed. He was looking at her so intently as if he was trying to commit her appearance into his mind—how the curve of her nose bore a resemblance to yours, how her lips reminded him of his own, and even how her eyes were similar to her grandmother’s; all of it, he instilled all of it.

Yuta found it painfully cruel how not a single feature of his late father was passed down to Mai. Nakamoto Tatsuo, the kind father that he was, had an appeal to his appearance and was a sight to behold but none of his traits could be distinguished from Mai’s face, it was just his weak heart that he passed unto her.

“Are you okay, papa?” Mai asked after a while of just observing her silent father, tilting her head confusedly at the sudden outburst of tears streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t like seeing papa cry.”

He nodded, wiping his cheeks rather aggressively, “You don’t have to worry about me, Mai. I’m alright.”

“Okay, I trust you… I love you, papa.” Mai smiled at him, and he burned the image into memory.

-

It happened on a day that felt too normal. Soft waves of laughter filled the room, accompanying it was Mai’s favorite movie soundtrack playing its pleasing tunes.

Mai was engrossed in a game of UNO with you, her small hands doing its best to carry a deck of The Little Mermaid themed cards. She had her tongue sticking out from focus, oblivious that you have been purposely making her win since the round had started.

Yuta, on the other hand, was tidying up the mess her uncles left when they had visited in the morning. He swore they coddled their niece too much.

Everything seemed so normal, it was just like any other day in the hospital. Mai was about to call her win, placing her final card in the pile, when her arm suddenly stiffened. She lurched over into a violent spasmodic fit, accidentally knocking off the stack of cards and snapping off the tubes she had in her nose that provided her oxygen.

You yelped in your startle, shaky fingers easing Mai into a position where she could breathe. For a moment, Yuta was frozen on his spot—utterly paralyzed by fear and panic as they had never seen their daughter have a seizure. He snapped back to reality soon after, forcing his legs to run out of the room and call for help.

Mai was still convulsing when Doctor Kang had finally arrived inside the room, he saw the condition she was in and he turned to Yuta who stood by the foot of the bed, watching the scene unfold with pure horror painted on his face.

“Both of you, get out now!” Doctor Kang’s voice bellowed, rushing to where Mai’s bed would pop its wheel. “I said, out!”

A horde of nurses barged into the room, ushering you and Yuta out of their way before either of you could’ve begun comprehending the situation. You were too stricken by shock, falling to the tiled floor as strangled sobs left your lips—desperate and helpless, while your husband stood by the door, gaping as he watched them wheel out his daughter to the direction of the emergency ward.

Yuta made his way to where the hospital bed used to be, kneeling down on the scattered mess they made of the playing cards. His vision blurred, he didn’t know where else he could find hope. It was as if he was merely just clawing at the seams that were threatening to pull apart any second.

He pressed his palms together, uttering a silent cry to a god he wasn’t quite sure he believed in anymore.

-

Yuta could not imagine living in a world where Mai was no longer.

A world where he would no longer wake up to her small hands shaking him awake, a world where he would no longer have to pick the peas off her dinner plate when you weren’t looking, a world where he would no longer need to take her to the beach just to satisfy her thirst of the ocean waves—he just couldn’t.

The world was robbing Yuta off witnessing the many firsts Mai was yet to experience, and he didn’t know if it was selfish of him that he couldn’t even think of accepting it. He wanted to see his daughter on her first day of school, to see her grow up and achieve her dreams and goals.

There was so much he had to know about her, to see her accomplish, but her clock was ticking. At age five, Mai was already laying on her deathbed. Unfairly so.

“She won’t be able to make it through the night.” Doctor Kang said, his head down low. “I’m so sorry.”

Hooked onto too many tubes to count, Mai rested on the hospital bed in her most peaceful slumber yet. She was unconscious to her mother’s cries, the first time Yuta had seen you crack in the eyes of others; you held onto her small frame for dear life, clutching onto her small pale hands as you laid beside her.

“What did we do wrong?” He heard you mutter to no one in particular, left it trembling in the suffocating air. “What the fuck did we do wrong?”

Yuta sat on the foot of the bed, unable to even look at Mai. He was scared, so terrified. In her final hours, he didn’t want to face her with a look that was sorrowful and guilt-ridden. He racked his brain of what to say, but he overwhelmed himself with his gazillion unsaid thoughts and it left ultimately him blank.

“Mai, are you listening?” He asked after a while, his voice hesitant and wavering. His throat felt dry as if he hasn’t spoken in years. When he received no reply, he let out a mirthless chuckle. He added, “Do you remember the first time we went to the beach?”

You craned your neck to meet Yuta’s eyes, bloodshot as yours were, and he didn't look away. He continued, “You were so little back then but you were rambunctious as ever. You loved the beach so much that I had to pretend that I got sick so we could go home.”

He saw your hand snake out of Mai’s blanket, holding it out for him to take. He caught it with his shaky fingers, tears tumbling out of his cheeks as he relished in the warmth you provided. Gripping on your hand with a tightness he couldn’t believe he was capable of in his state, you held on his even firmer; to assure him that you were there, that he was not alone.

“Mai,” You whispered in between hiccups, gazing at your daughter with such a tenderness Yuta knew was only reserved for Mai. “Mermaids and mermen don’t exist. It was only your papa who was swimming in the water when I pointed one to you.”

It was the crack in your voice that got him. You were letting yourself be vulnerable, and it pained him that it took you this long to finally allow yourself to be. The strong woman he was so in love with, falling apart right in front of him—somehow, you were still so beautiful. An absolute goddess that you were.

Tugging onto Yuta’s hand, he swallowed his reluctance and inched himself closer. He said on his way, “Mai, Uncle Johnny wasn’t the one who broke your favorite pail and shovel, it was me. I accidentally stepped on it and I blamed it all on your uncle because I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

It went on for a while, your family’s exchange of apologies and truths. It was all either of you could say, but Yuta wished this moment could last forever. You were being honest with your feelings and he was braving against his insecurities as a father, but he knew no matter how much tears he’d shed, Mai was still dying.

“Mai,” Tone a little softer, Yuta called out to his daughter once more. “You and your mama are the reasons why my life is worth living. You’ve both brought out a side of me that I never once imagined I was capable of having. But Mai, you especially are my strength.”

You burrowed your nose into the small of Mai’s neck, muffling your cries at your husband’s confession. He carried on, baring his soul out, “You are the light of my life and of so many others and Mai, we need you to stay alive… I need you to keep on living.”

Mai coughed, and Yuta’s eyes shot open. You drew back, in equal shock at her sudden awakening. She smiled at the sight of her parents, barely having the strength and energy to flutter open her lids all the way, “Papa, if I promise to, can we go back to the beach?”

A gasp ripped off your throat, fresh tears welling in your eyes as if you hadn’t already exhausted yourself from crying. While you latched yourself onto Mai’s fragile form, Yuta’s limbs moved before he could even process what was happening. He scrambled towards the both of you, throwing his arms around his family in a dogpile, clinging with all of his strength.

“Mama, your hair. It tickles.” Mai delicately giggled, scrunching her nose to evade your locks. She couldn’t move in either of your holds, allowing your and Yuta’s combined warmth and coziness to envelop her whole, almost soothing her to a state of tranquility she was never truly accustomed to all her life.

“I’m sorry, Mai.” You laughed breathlessly, a sense of relief washing over you, and you looked at her with a certain yearning. It was an apology that encapsulated everything—to your faults and shortcomings, you poured it all. “Let us make it up to you, okay?”

Yuta gently placed his palm against the side of her head, pressing his cheek against her head of hair and he didn't move an inch. He found comfort at the beating of her heart, faint but it was still there. He mumbled, “Tell us how can we make it up to you, Mai.”

“I want a new pail and shovel.” Mai hummed after a while of silence, letting you pepper her face with hurried kisses—sloppy kisses that would last her a lifetime—and ignoring the damp feeling on her scalp as she nestled into his father’s touch.

Home, Yuta thought once more, this is home. He savored the feeling for what he didn’t know would be the last time because on the night of August 5th of 2023, an hour after she had woken up from her heavily painkiller-induced condition, Nakamoto Mai died of heart failure.

Unknowingly, a little piece of her broken parents died with her. To fill the emptiness that she had left hollow in your hearts, you and your husband would turn to the beach for a taste of peace that neither of you wouldn’t ever fully attain again.

Life wasn’t fair, and Yuta doesn’t think it would ever be when it had already robbed him of his life’s purpose.

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Thirteen | Waterfall (Part 3 of 4 | His POV)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

"This is actually our first date, but we're getting there."

His soul almost stops at that sentence, yet he tries not to let it show. Based on how charmed (Y/N) was around monsters who weren't heavily involved with the intentions of the Royal Guard, Sans assumes they're lying for the sake of not letting Roger down. He observes and listens to their exchange by the side, only intervening when he's escorted with them into the shop.

Before arriving at the counter, he brings up that sentence and the meaning behind it. He has some confidence as to what their reply will be, but when they actually speak up, it only complicates his thoughts and the pace of his soul more. "I'm not sure what to think of this myself, but… In the end, I only did it 'cause I couldn't bring myself to get his hopes down."

He'd hit the nail in the head.

But what was the reason behind their doubts?

Did they feel forced to go out with him, simply for having gotten to know Frisk during their journey?

It didn't feel that way, yet he didn't exactly know them well enough to be one-hundred percent sure of those assumptions. For all he knew, they could be pretending and trying to get along with him just for the sake of Frisk's happiness and the rest of their monster friends. It wasn't safe to cross out that possibility yet.

A bunnywoman greets him and he words out his orders, saying (Y/N)'s, then his, and finally Frisk's to-go. He can see the human's wallet already in hand, though they hold it back when he's directed with them to a table, no upfront payment needed. "But even if this was a date, I still don't think I'd be able to accept having another one after today's," they add, sitting down and facing their lap.

At that, his curiosity rises, and he can't help asking them for a little more detail. "What do you mean?"

They fidget before answering. "I need to focus more on raising Frisk before going anywhere with my love life."

"Why?" The monster wants to disappear with how abrupt, rude, and plain nosy that question comes out. Knowing he's already screwed up and not wanting to ruin things further by making them angry, he hurries to elaborate his question better, saying, "So you haven't dated anyone ever since that day?" He breathes out as subtly as possible, relieved to see them nod. 

A brown bear appears, referring to himself as the waiter in charge of the table for today. He's in formal wear, something the human seems to be charmed by; it's an undoubtedly similar look to when they didn't want to disappoint the rabbit. They continue when the bear leaves, words once more catching the skeleton off guard. "I haven't, and to be honest I'd…" They keep quiet for a while, making his doubts return. He's worried he's asking questions far too personal for them to be in any way comfortable with him, but they don't stop with their answers. "I'd like to keep it that way for as long as it's needed. I need to be there for Frisk, and I need to be more careful of who I date from now on." They sound more at ease the further they talk, helping calm some of his own tension down. "You see, I… I really don't want Frisk to grow up in an environment full of constant fights and disagreements." 

That seems to be the final drop in the bucket for them to expose their heart out to him. Words practically flow out of their mouth as they continue to explain the reasons behind their self-imposed limitations. They tell him of Jerry and their relationship with him post-divorce, of those six years without dating anyone, and over the responsibility they felt was on their shoulders ever since Jerry stopped acting as a father for Frisk. He's irked with everything they say -- especially the last part -- but again, he tries not to let his emotions show too much, wanting to listen to them instead. 

As they speak, Sans wonders whether it's okay to continue being all chill and buddy-buddy with Jerry, now knowing him in a different light. The guy was fun to be around with, and he was truthfully the one who'd given him a push to make a move on (Y/N), but he couldn't bring himself to meet up with him again without wanting to use the same sense of judgment he specialized in at the Underground. He was strict and stern when it came to the consequences of others' actions just as he was when it came to judging himself for his own choices in both past and present times.

If Jerry was well-aware he wasn't ready to be a father, then why did he still agree on (having/adopting) a child?

Had it been an unforeseen result, or was there more to it?

A piece of information slips by, though (Y/N) doesn't seem to catch onto it. After the words 'I let him go', follow: "I, well… I was over the moon when he said we could be parents, and I didn't really think about his real feelings about the situation the second he said we could give it a try, so it's… It's primarily my fault all of this happened, either way. I- I should've paid more attention and discussed the situation with him more properly." A bitter smile shows on their face. "Children aren't pets, and even pets aren't that easy of a responsibility, either. I… I should've stopped to think about that choice some more before immediately assuming we were both ready, once he... once he brought up the possibility of us being parents."

Based on how little they react after that confession, it's plain evident they haven't noticed they've let that information slip past, so he chooses not to bring it up. To make up for it, Sans intervenes when he notices they're too caught up in wanting to make things right all in one day. He steps in with his own view on the subject so far, saying, "Don't wanna assume things right off the bat, but…" He pauses, picking up a fork and piercing it through his dish. Then, he faces (Y/N), continuing with, "You kinda feel like you've gotta make up for that? Limiting yourself that much ain't really the best option, though."

They face away and pick up a portion of their dessert along the way. With how calm they look right now, he wonders how they would react had he chosen to bring up the fact they'd just confessed something far too personal in the midst of them being honest with him. "I just don't trust myself enough to make the right decision again." They take a bite.

Sans tries to look away from their lips, not wanting to make himself come off as an indecent person by staring there for too long. While they were dressed far more strikingly and looked far more cheerful compared to previous times, that's no excuse for him to stare, and even less at their face. They were here wearing their heart out on their sleeve for him. Taking advantage of that with any sort of flirting or advancements simply didn't feel right presently.

He offers his point-of-view, only to be interrupted by what he fears is trouble lurking right behind (Y/N)'s back. There's two human men standing close by, pointing at their waist and muttering comments about how 'chunky' they are and how small the off-brand 'Grim Reaper on vacation prop' sitting with them is. He waits and keeps an eye socket out for the two as he continues, only to be interrupted by a loud comment from one of the pair not long after.

"Hey, Kevin," the burliest one of the two says, voice irritatingly loud. "What did the skeleton say to the hog?" 

Laughter follows and the lankier one replies with, "I don't know, Brayan. What?"

Brayan fakes a swoon and attempts to mimic what Sans can only interpret as his own voice with how exaggeratedly rough and Batman-with-a-cold deep it sounds, saying, "Oh, you're the exact opposite of me -- all fat and no bones. What a catch!"

More laughter.

"Wait, wait," Kevin says, voice now heard from closer by. "I've- I've gotta good follow-up to that one." Brayan snorts at that -- obnoxiously rather than cutely. "I might be fat, but you're the real pig here -- liking me only because of those weird tastes of yours!"

"What's bothering you, mi chicharrón? You're my type. I'm only saying the truth!

"And I'm done with you, you bonehead!"

Just as the skeleton expects to be pushed off his chair, his company intervenes by standing up and approaching the man about to send him to the ground. Their stance is firm and their gaze is pissed, the light in their eyes far different from when they snapped at his own flirting. They grab the man by the arm, but it doesn't take much for him to retaliate and seek out help from his partner-in-crime. Far-too soon, a splash is heard and the skeleton sees (Y/N)'s shirt drenched, an empty glass being held by one of the two men still standing nearby. 

Now his turn to act, Sans takes advantage of free Karma and tosses both his drink and theirs at the man responsible for throwing one at (Y/N). The rest is a blur as he pays more attention to them and their condition. Only the comments Kevin and Brayan made about them and the drink thrown at them stay in his mind, occupying the rest of his thoughts. He takes a towel and wraps it around their torso, being extra cautious not to brush his hands anywhere improper, something better said than done with his current situation. They're soaked from neck to waist, the subtle warmth emerging from their body making him further concerned by assuming the drink was still fresh. 

"Was it hot?"

With that question, he receives yet another surprise, both in words and the bold look they give him along with it. "No," he hears (Y/N) say, grinning bright and wide as a subtle, flirty curve shows on their smile. "But you worrying about me kinda is."

His soul lurches at the feeling of their lips on his cheekbone. It's a sensation far too soft for him to have ever been prepared for it, and it's made a lot more intense when they drag the kiss all the way to his ear cavity, lips brushing against his face as they whisper him a 'thank you'. His hands are firm on their waist as the crowd cheers on. It's only when he backs away and lets go of the towel that he can escape from the situation, plopping back down on his chair to recover from it. 

• • •

With the remnants of the earlier incident, it’s a different experience giving the human a ride to his home. The skeleton's now overly alert of everything around him, from their hands around his waist to the rumbling of other engines near him. Thankfully, a cloudy sky, strong winds, and a light drizzle aid as a distraction. He dodges busy streets by taking detours wherever possible, and he focuses on one thing only: getting there before the rain pours any harder. While the helmet shields most of it away, the roar of the clouds above alerts him and seemingly the one holding onto him, based on how they press closer and ask if he’s okay.

“Wouldn’t it be better to stop?” they suggest, voice muffled from too many things at once. There’s the rain picking up, other vehicles zooming past, and the warning of future thunder from the clouds. Add in the helmets, and it’s a necessity for him to take a turn and park by the emergency lane.

The stillness of his surroundings helps provide a better look at the options nearby. Four were available, the last of them the most risky. It was either turn left and stop at a gas station, turn right and stop at an inn, go back and stop at the nearest shopping district available, or continue forward without any proper sense of direction. 

Just as he’s imagining there’s no way (Y/N) could be any bolder than they had been with their kiss, they say, “Let’s stop by the inn.” Their smile quells any hidden meanings. Their tone, on the other hand, has plenty left to be said. “It’s the closest option there is, and judging by the situation up there, it’s the best one, too.”

Right.

He scolds himself mentally for letting his imagination run too far.

Of course, it was his fear of thunder they were referring to!

What else could it have been?

“Alright,” he says, giving in with a huff. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah,” they reply, shrugging. “It's getting darker, and the weather’s not too good. I’ll just call Undyne and let her know we'll be returning a little later than expected."

The monster finally grins at that and props the motorcycle back into shape. “You’re being awfully chill about this whole thing, pal.” He jolts when their hands find their place around him once more, settled down when he hears them laugh, airiness present in their tone. They rest their head closer to his shoulder, helmet bumping with his. “Gettin’ real comfy around me, too.”

They pull back, a frown heard in their question, “Would you like me to stop?”

He shakes his head, bringing them closer at a red light. “Not at all.”

Their laughter sounds again, more cheerful and light. Had he no context of where they'd been before the ride, he would’ve assumed they'd taken a drink too many. To see them relax and play along was about as rare as a day not passing by without the sudden awfulness of the weather. It’s been worsening, yet he can’t quite determine why exactly. There were plenty of factors contributing to it, one of the most common being the current season, and the most uncommon somehow related to the accusations monsters received about the bad weather being all their fault.

Flashing, neon lights greet the skeleton when he parks close to the inn, right below a tent made specifically for keeping customers' vehicles out of the bad weather. ‘Open 24/7. Vacant. Family Friendly. Monster Friendly. Absolutely NO pest problem. Suspicious wall stains are actually retro wallpaper patterns, not blood,' and a bunch more other things blare at him in bright lettering. There’s tiny wording at the bottom of the word ‘Inn’, reading: ‘formerly a criminal hideout’, in parentheses.

Sans expects all but more stifled laughter from (Y/N)’s mouth. When he looks towards them, he sees they've already taken their helmet off, revealing teary eyes and a smile. “What's next?” they ask, giggling. “Bet now the hotel guy'll say: ‘Sorry, we’ve only got one room left’.” They take him by the arm and lead him in as soon as the rain pours completely, their laughter drowning out as thunder clashes from nearby. “C’mon,” they call out, tugging him in. “You’ll get sick!” The door jingles as he passes through with them by his side, revealing a lobby far more decent than the outside suggests. “See that? It’s gonna be fine!"

He doesn't say anything and instead lets himself be tugged along. If he'd annoyed them too much with his flirting and this was the world's way of punishing him for it, he accepted it despite what that was doing to his soul. He accompanies them to the registration counter, where an even worse problem waits.

"Welcome!" Mettaton calls out, greeting both him and the human next to him with a smile. Funky music plays on the radio, matching almost eerily with his gaze and the purpose behind his smile. "Room for two, I assume?" He takes out a log book, and a calculative frown shows on his face as he taps his chin with the pen, a smile returning when he looks up. "...Either way, I'm afraid that's all we have right now."

His companion snorts (cutely, in comparison to Brayan), though they cover it up when he tries to get a better look at them, seeing a smile still on. "Told you so," they say, jabbing his waist. They then turn over to the robot, seriousness falling on their face. "We'd like to book it for a night, please."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Note

This chapter was originally meant to be only 2 parts long, but the request seen here (an older one, as it was suggested in the first version of this fanfic) ended up enriching the story's plot wayyy more than I thought, lol.

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

@disastrous-l0vebug

@therealchickenjoe

@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

@timelock97

@candle-creeps

[joon-ipersgirl]

O7 - “the promising proposition”

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader (f)

word count: 5.1k

warnings: cursing (if i miss any, let me know!)

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitious team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district’s hottest new club go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients. 

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total. 

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember, nothing is ever as it seems...

a/n: it’s been a minute but we’re back! winter break is here and i’m determined to write so here’s part 7 as i still work on my tae halloween fic (whew) and some more holiday related scenarios/oneshots. thank you all for being so patient and i hope you enjoy this next part. i only have one more pre-written part for this story so updates may be even slower lol. as always, send your reactions as they make me super happy lmao. thank you vi for beta-reading this and enjoy everyone!

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

The four of you sit in Manager Kim’s office, tense. Well, three as Paul had ruined his chances during last week’s meeting but you know he can feel the heaviness in the air as you wait for Madeline’s decision. She sits comfortably behind her large desk after calling you in to tell you who’d be assisting her on the Cavallero project. Her large, black fedora is propped on her head at a dangerous angle as she has her feet kicked up on her desk, her signature steel toed boots accentuating her full black outfit. You’d spent the previous days in the breakroom trying to figure out what made this project a higher priority than the rest of the contracts you’d acquired and who would be the lucky winner.

“Lovely of you all to join me, though Paul you were not really needed.” He tries his best to hide behind Laura from Manager Kim’s disappointed stare, but to no avail. “I know you all have been eagerly anticipating which one of you lucky interns will have the privilege of working with me on the first part of the Cavallero contract. You’ll find out shortly as his assistant will be dropping off the final notes on what he expects to see at the event; I’ll send one of you down to fetch him. We’ll have a brief meeting afterwards and then get to work. The rest of you will work under that person, following their orders diligently. Now, I need updates on the rest of our projects. Where are we?”

You barely listen as James rattles off what he was able to accomplish with the Emmerson’s engagement party. You think his design is doable, chic for an event planned in spring, but lacking in some of the finer details you know the future Mrs. Emmerson would appreciate; she’s a woman after your own heart with her love for champagne, meals created by chefs with Michelin stars, and exquisite fine china. Of course Madeline would pit you against each other for this job though. Not that you mind, you’re more than capable of fighting for what you believe is mine. It’s just less work when it’s given to you nicely packaged. Like the gifts you’re sure future Mrs. Emmerson would like to receive from her future husband’s wealthy friends.

“Y/N?” You focus back on Manager Kim who’s waiting expectantly, her glasses slipping down her nose. “The Williams’? What’s going on there? Or have you not made any progress?”

“The Williams have signed off on the zoo theme for their son,” James interjets before you can gather your thoughts. “We’re looking into finding the best face painters in the city and we’ve almost secured a catering contract for the 150 vegan cupcakes Mrs. Williams ordered. The invitations are currently being designed based on the chosen theme and will be ready for client approval next week.”

“Very good, James. Please send me a copy of your notes to be added into the file. Y/N, I expect better from you. That’s everything I have for today. You’re all dismissed,” she finishes with a wave of her hand, her glasses sliding down her nose once again as she searches for one particular document on her desk.

You don’t wait for the rest of them to follow as you make your way back to the tiny cubicle-like room you share. Manager Kim normally never calls you out in front of the rest of them and you’re fuming. Tossing down your legal pad, you whirl around as the three of them enter the room.

“What the fuck, James?!” you hiss as he calmly sits behind his desk and resumes typing on his computer.

“Looks like the Princess is upset,” Paul stage-whispers to Laura as he too sits down. You ignore him. He’s just as irrelevant beforehand as he is now.

“What do you need, Y/N? I have to send the notes from the meeting to Manager Kim,” James responds, not looking up at you. Your face further sours.

“You read my fucking files?! That wasn’t your event to handle and you know that!” you yell.

“Well, you took too long to respond -”

“I had barely opened my mouth -”

“- and Manager Kim needed a response, so I responded,” he finishes, ignoring your outburst.

“Y/N, please calm down. We don’t want to make a scene,” Laura pleads.

“Calm down? Laura, he made me look incompetent,” you argue.

“But you are, Y/N.” You pause and turn to James once again. Disbelief is written across your face as you stare each other down. You were the imcompetent one? “You should be ready to answer any question about any event J&M has going on whether it’s your’s or someone else’s. It’s not my fault that you were never taught the basics of efficiency in a company. The job has to get done and I completed the task. Simple,” he finishes. His incessant typing is all you hear as you stare at him. James had never been this bold before. Especially not with you.

“Watch your mouth, James,” you tell him coolly.

“Furthermore, your failure in that meeting shows that you’re incapable of handling bigger projects. I mean, you couldn’t recall the most straightforward details of a birthday party for a six-year-old child. Why should Manager Kim trust you to work on the coveted Cavallero contract? You’ve given her no reason to. All you’ve done is eliminated yourself from the running, effectively leaving Laura and I. Which is no challenge because -  no offense Laura - you’re not really competition. I just hope you guys can maange when my hands are full with this project.”

You laugh as Laura cowers. You weren’t sure whether it was from the sound or James’ particularly harsh words, but the atmosphere in the room was much worse than in the meeting. Biting back the words you really wanted to tell him, you heed Laura’s advice and decide to not cause a scene. This is a professional establishment and you need this job. There are goals you want to accomplish and you wouldn’t let a slimy bastard like James Carter distract you. He’d finally shown his true colors - what he really thought of you - and you’re only grateful the others had been around to witness it.

“Alright, James. It seems like you’ve been holding back on us. Just remember: a word once let out of a cage cannot be whistled back again,” you tell him as you resume your duties at your desk. Flipping open a new page of your legal pad, you write neatly at the top: Emmerson Engagement. If James thought he had bested you, he had another thing coming.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Laura asks as she joins you in the staff room for lunch.

“Never better,” you reply, sipping on your iced coffee as you warm your leftover lasagna in the microwave. Gods bless your sweet, sweet roommate.

“What James said to you this morning was pretty harsh,” she says as she makes herself a steaming cup of green tea. Always the health conscious one that girl.

“James seems to be tired of our shit,” you chuckle. “I’ve heard worse though, Laura. Don’t worry about me. He said some pretty harsh things about you, too.”

She nods. “I didn’t think he could be so mean! And counting me out?! I worked really hard on my designs!” Laura’s voice doesn’t sound too sure, but you nod in agreeance.

“Your bridal party design last spring was very well done,” you tell her around a mouthful of lasagna.

“Exactly!” she says in a huff as she plops down across from you, nearly burning herself in the process. “And your event was really good too! The one you did a few months ago,” she trails off. You laugh.

“Which one was that?”

“You know, the one for the family with that really fancy theme? And lots of people came...”

“Oh, the Winter Wonderland scene on the ice rink?”

“Yes, that one!” she exclaims.

“That was Marie’s project before she got transferred to Jenson’s team,” you say with a laugh. Laura almost chokes on her tea as you wipe your mouth clean. “No need for you to try and make me feel better by pretending to remember something I’ve worked on. I’m honestly fine,” you chuckle again.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry -”

“Y/N?” James stands in the doorway looking quite displeased. You raise your eyebrows at him in response. “Manager Kim would like to see you in her office. Please make it quick as I’m going to get Mr. Cavallero’s assistant soon.” You laugh loudly.

“Of course, James. I’ll be sure to let Manager Kim know you’d like her to rush her meeting for your convenience.”

He scowls as you brush past him, your half-eaten lunch and coffee in hand. Mercury must be in retrograde for James to think that he can make demands of you any type of way. It seems that you need to put him back in his place; he’d gotten too comfortable with the little office jokes you all shared. Grabbing your legal pad and pen, you smooth down the little flyaway hairs and your white button down shirt; you couldn’t receive another lashing looking unkempt. Knocking on the door, you wait for Manager Kim to answer before you enter.

“You asked to see me, Manager Kim?”

“Yes. Please take a seat, Y/N. I’ll be with you in a second,” she replies as she finishes typing on her computer. You sit gingerly in the unoccupied chair as you’d done this morning and wait for her to rip into you. “Right. Let’s get to it. What was that this morning?” You inhale deeply.

“Honestly, I was thinking about James’ event and mentally noting changes I would make as possible suggestions to him when you called on me. I wasn’t dozing off because I was bored,” you answer.

“Hmm. And what changes would you have made?” she asks curiously as she gives you her undivided attention.

“Well, the future Mrs. Emmerson is a woman of prestige. Class. While roses are a classic choice, white tulips are pre-on-trend and I think she would enjoy being a part of that group. He also chose the Dom Perignon champagne, but I thought Veuve Clicquot would be the better option. High price doesn’t always mean high flavor. I do agree with his choice of venue though. The high ceilings will look great in the low afternoon light and the white lights in the evening will make for great photos,” I finished. “But of course, the client is always right and if this is her chosen design, we’ll go with that.”

Manager Kim stares at you until you start to feel slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. You know you hadn’t overstepped and she had asked for your honest opinion, but when sitting in front of one of the best event designers in the game, second guessing yourself is inevitable.

“You didn’t think to say anything earlier in the meeting?” she asks.

“I wasn’t aware that giving opinions on other people’s events was ideal during a regular updates meeting.”

“You should speak up more. Your ideas aren’t as bad as you think they are,” Madeline says as she leans back in her chair. “How else do you expect to lead any major project?”

Just as you’re going to respond, a knock sounds at the door. “Come in!” Manager Kim yells.

“Should I leave? James did say he was going to collect Mr. Cavallero’s assistant,” you trail off, getting ready to stand.

“No. No, you’re fine,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Ah, Mr. Carlisle - oh! And Mr. Cavallero! What a surprise! I didn’t know you would be joining us,” Manager Kim says as she stands and you follow suit.

“I happened to have some free time and decided to tag along as Lewis was dropping off the notes. I hope you don’t mind. I thought it would be helpful to have me here in case you had any questions that needed direct attention,” Mr. Cavallero responds. “And please, call me Jonas.”

Mr. Cavallero, or Jonas as he would like to be referred to, is dressed in his typical big spender suit: a deep navy blue suit with a pristine white buttoned-down shirt and pre-released Versace patent leather monk strap shoes. His aura fills the entire space, though he only stands in the doorway of Madeline’s office. You can practically feel the gel between your fingers as you look at his salt-and-pepper slicked back hair; the sheen is almost as bright as his shoes.

“And Miss Y/L/N, yes? What a pleasure to see you again. Will you be sitting in on this meeting as well? Lewis could only sing your praises after you left,” he asks. You struggle to keep your face neutral as James’ searing gaze washes over you. You know Manager Kim’s ears must be red as her secretive meeting is foiled by her best client.

“Actually, I was just -”

“- going to bring the file for the event as you were previously suggesting. Right, Y/N?” Manager Kim says as she turns to you with a stiff smile. “You are our chosen intern, afterall.” You can barely contain your gasp as she says the words. You had gotten the contract?! James does not try to hide his shock at her statement as his eyes widen and his mouth nearly falls open.

“It’ll be a pleasure working with you again, Miss Y/L/N,” Mr. Carlisle says with a smile.

“Of course,” you reply with a deep head nod. “I look forward to working with you both as well. I’ll be back with your file shortly.”

“Thank you, Y/N. And thank you James for going to get them. You may leave now,” Manager Kim adds as she turns her attention back to her guests, inviting them to sit and make themselves comfortable.

You walk calmly, though you feel anything but that, across the room as James holds the door open for you. Pleading with the gods to be on your side, you race ahead of him to the breakroom for fresh, new bottles of water - a sight to see in a knee length pencil skirt and the infamous 4-inch stilettos that are apparently still required in this day and age. Your office is filled with hushed whispers until you round the corner and enter the small room.

“You got the Cavallero project?!” Paul exclaims. “Holy shit! You’re better than I thought, Y/N!” You laugh as you search your desk for the copy of the previous plans you’d developed from that day’s secret meeting.

“Congratulations, Y/N!” Laura cheers, bouncing up and down. “Your first real major project. Isn’t that exciting, James?”

“Sure. If you can be happy for someone who fucked her way to get the position,” he says biterrly. “Lewis could only sing your praises after you left?” James scoffs. “Sounds like you worked really hard in that meeting.”

“James!” Laura gasps.

“Oh it’s fine, Laura. If you think that James, I can’t stop you,” you say with a shrug. “But I’ll be happy to discuss my scandalous sex life with you after I meet with our coveted client.”

You prance out of the office with a smug smile on your face. Of course James would resort to a low blow because he didn’t get what he wanted; he was worse than the six-year-old child he had reprimanded you about. Tucking the fake file under your arm as the real one is still in Madeline’s office, you carry the bottles of water back to the meeting. After passing the bottles to your clients, you stand diligently behind Manager Kim with your notepad at the ready.

“Please Miss Y/L/N, take my seat,” Jonas says, standing.

“Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“I insist. I do my best thinking standing up.”

“He does this often in his office,” Lewis agrees. Glancing at Manager Kim, you gingerly sit down on the end of the chair after thanking Jonas again.

“You had mentioned that you enjoyed the designs Y/N had developed, but as you know these are drafts and can be changed as you deem fit, Mr. Cavallero. Are there any things that come to mind or can we work on finalizing these details?” Madeline asks. You watch as Jonas strides around the office, seemingly in thought.

“You proposed hosting the event at one of the upscale hotels downtown, but I was wondering if you had any other options. We want the environment to feel lavish, but not over the top,” he replies. “I was actually thinking of something -” he pauses “ - more intimate.”

Writing down his wishes, you rack your brain for places that fit his description. Most clients of his caliber wanted something extravagant, but Jonas was proving to be a very different man. Quite the surprise that you were not expecting. “Would you like something with more modern architecture or classical?” you ask.

“I have always been a fan of French architecture; the European style also seems to be popular among our own clients. Most of them come from European backgrounds,” Jonas answers.

“They might find the interior design reminiscent,” Madeline thinks aloud and jots it down.

“It could be very good for signing contracts, sir,” Lewis adds.

“I may have a suggestion. Chateau’s is a little outside of the city, but the view is magnificent. It’s family owned so that may benefit you with your clients as well. It also has a rooftop that would look great in the afternoon sun as well as the late evening should the event last longer than expected,” you suggest. “I’ve also read great reviews saying that the food is well prepared too.”

“This could lower your costs for your first event and more money can be reserved for the benefit gala you’re also organizing,” Madeline sneaks in. She’s right, of course. A benefit gala planned by Madeline Kim would require much more than what Mr. Cavallero had said he was okay with spending, but he didn’t need to know that right now.

“Hmm,” he ponders turning around. “This sounds doable. I’d like to see what you can come up with for designs for this new place as well as scheduling a visit to see it for myself. All of this can be done before the initial deadline of securing a venue, yes?”

“Absolutely,” Madeline responds and you keep your composure as you review your mental calendar of events knowing this would be difficult to pull off. Brunch is scheduled a month and a half from today’s date meaning you had to somehow convince Chateau’s to take on your client, create an acceptable menu, and allow you to make any decorating changes within two weeks to make the deadline. Madeline is batshit crazy, but it would have to get done to secure the benefit gala - the whole reason for the company even accepting this contract.

“I can have all the details typed and sent to you within the next week. I’ll also keep the downtown hotel as an option if Chateau's is unavailable for your intended date. I’m sure we can use the rooftop of a hotel to create an intimate setting that your guests would enjoy,” you add. “I would also like to request the location of the benefit gala. I understand this is a very important event for your law firm and I would like to begin drafting plans for your approval at the earliest convenience.”

“Yes, of course. We use the Finca Corte as they have the best grand ballroom in the city. Lewis, please send Miss Y/L/N the past itineraries of the event so she may have a better understanding of the atmosphere we wish to create for our guests.” Lewis nods and makes his own notes, before his wrist watch alarms.

“Ah, Mr. Cavallero. Your 4pm meeting is on time this afternoon. We should leave now so you aren’t late,” Lewis warns. Jonas nods and you all stood to say your goodbyes.

“Please, if you need anything, reach out to Lewis and he’ll get in contact with me so I can answer any of your questions,” Jonas says with a smile as he shakes your hands.

“Of course, Mr. Cavallero. Please feel free to do the same,” Madeline replies though you can hear the tightness in her voice and for the third time, you wonder what her relationship is with Jonas. They had to have had some history for her to always seem on edge in his presence.

“Let me walk you both downstairs,” you offer. J&M isn’t as large as Hastings and Lewis, but there are many twists and turns on each floor that guests could get lost in.

You don’t turn your head as you pass your tiny office space and head for the elevator. You wouldn’t give any of those fuckers your attention in the presence of high quality clientele. It’s cramped inside but not uncomfortable as you ride down from the fourth floor. Jonas turns to you once again as you stand in the lobby.

“Again Miss Y/L/N, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. Lewis would be happy to answer any of your questions if you can’t get in contact with me,” he says and hands you his business card.

“I actually did have one question before you go. Well two actually. Finca Corte - it isn’t a chain, is it? Just one location?”

“Right. On 17th and Main near the Grande Theatre, but the next block over,” Jonas replies.

“And there’s no need to call and reserve the date? The notes Lewis had given us hadn’t mentioned anything about the date or a deposit,” you state.

“No, the firm takes care of those details. The benefit gala is always reserved for the third Saturday in May every year,” Lewis responds. Three months from now, you think.

“Oh, wonderful. I know you have to get going so I’ll email you any other questions, Lewis. Thank you again. Please return to the firm safely,” you say cheerly and wave. They return it and you wait for them to get into their sleek town car before you let your face fall into a frown. You’d never been to or heard of Finca Corte before, but why did the location seem so familiar? You try not to dwell on it too much as you head back upstairs. There are more pressing matters at hand, like putting James back into the roach-infested place he’d crawled out of. You grin as you head off the elevator.

Rosalia greets you as you enter the old two-bedroom apartment you share. Slipping off your heels that you’re sure has blood crusted into the toes from excessive wear, you scratch behind her ears as she purrs. She’s one of the better things to happen to you in your life and you’re grateful for her little pieces of affection even though you’re positive she had made some attempts to smother you in your sleep so she could have your bed.

“You’re home?” Amaya calls out from her hidden position on the couch.

“Yeah! Did you make dinner?” you ask as you follow your nose to the kitchen where a large pot stews on the stove.

“Of course I did. We all know you’d starve if I didn’t cook,” she says as she bumps you out of the way to check on the food. You mock her as you sit down at the antique metal table that you rarely ate at, choosing to have your meals in the much more comfortable living room on the sofa.

“I could survive!” you yell, trying to defend yourself, but Amaya isn’t having it.

“You couldn’t. Was the lasagna okay today, though?” she asks, changing the subject.

“The best. You should really consider opening a restaurant and forgetting all this computer engineer stuff,” you tell her seriously.

“Ha! As if that would pay off these loans. Either way, this is an investment. Once I’m done with this degree, I’ll be able to program computers to make these dishes for me and rake in a ton of money to get us out of this place,” she says with determination.

Amaya is a third year computer engineering student at Oberman University. Surprisingly smaller than you, she carries as much kick as you do, the two of you getting into numerous instances of mild misdemeanors. Amaya had actually hacked a few systems after she had found out that you weren’t really registered for classes at the University so you could get some credit; she’s a computer genius. Thanks to her, you technically have an Associates degree, but of course Oberman would never grant it to you unless you actually re-enroll. Amaya doesn’t take anyone’s shit though she looks like she’s 12 with her big green eyes and short blunt bob, the bangs a little too long and falling into her eyes.

“Thank you for including me in your plans for world domination, Aya,” you say while taking your hair out of your bun.

“Of course. You know you’re family to me, even though you leave your fucking dishes in the sink,” she replies while placing a piping bowl of beef stew and white rice in front of you. You thank the gods for her as you tuck in, burning your tongue in the process.

“I love you. So, so, so much.”

“Are you talking to me or the stew?�� she asks with a laugh as she blows her food to cool it down. You laugh in response. “How was work? Oh my gosh, did you get the project?!”

You grin and nod. “I did!” She squeals in delight and claps her hands. “Though James was extremely displeased. He actually called me incompetent -”

“Hold on. He called you incompetent? Has he seen his progress report? And wasn’t he the one that forgot to submit his file that made that whole project you did a few months ago late?”

“Right. He was so shocked when Madeline announced it was me, even insinuated that I fucked my way to get the position. Kim was heated that Jonas mentioned our meeting while he was in the room though because it was supposed to be a secret,” you explain.

“Of course he would say something like that.” She rolls her eyes. “There seem to be a lot of secrets happening around you. Speaking of which, when do you head back to Spiral to snoop?” Amaya asks. “Do you think you can find anything in the hallway? Maybe you should break into Suga’s office or something,” she suggests.

“Friday night and I don’t think Suga would leave anything lying around like that for me to see again, not after I’m pretty sure he caught me reading his papers a few weeks ago,” you reply, pushing the rice around the plate. That had been extremely careless and might have killed a lead to your mini investigation before it had even begun.

“The one with all that information right? Gosh, I wish you had my photographic brain, that way you could have written down what you had seen and we could solve this whole mystery,” she groans.

“Oh no, Aya. I don’t want you getting involved with this. It seems way too dangerous and you -”

“- have my whole life ahead of me. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. But I want to know where this guy went. Like what if he’s still out there and looking for you?” she questions.

“I know, I know. I don’t want you worrying about it though. I can handle it,” you promise. “I feel like I’ve seen the address before though, but I can’t figure out where.” You rub your forehead as if you could magically make the numbers appear in your mind again. Aya’s photographic memory really would have come in handy.

“What about the date?” Amaya asks. “Or the name? You said the name was weird, unusual.” You nod. What had it said?

“There was a date, a location, and a name with an amount of money. Like a contract or something,” you sigh. “It looked really similar to the ones we have at work. Fuck. I don’t know. Between this and planning the benefit gala, my brain feels like it’s going to explode.” Amaya laughs as she finishes her dinner.

“Please don’t hurt yourself. It’ll come to you,” she says, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Well, I have Calc 3 homework to finish and these theorems won’t do themselves so I’ll see you in the morning. Wash your fucking plate,” she finishes and pointes her finger at you. You hold up your hands in surrender as she leaves hers in the sink for you to clean. It’s the least you can do as she made all your meals.

Grabbing your purse and lugging it behind you after washing the dishes, you head to your room, Rosalia following in tow. Surprisingly, your bed is still intact which means that Amaya had made sure Rosalia hadn’t gotten into your room. Bless her. Not that there was much to get into as you the minimum possessions a person could have: a bed, a few photos, and enough clothes to last you a few weeks without doing laundry. You place your files and notepads onto your bed, eager to go and take a shower before organizing your notes in preparation for the debrief you would no doubt have to give to the rest of your colleagues tomorrow.

“Was your day as long as mine, Rosalia?” You scratch her head as she hops up on your bed and makes herself at home between your papers, a few of them scattering to the floor. “Apparently not as you want to make mine even longer,” you murmur as you bend to pick up the loose sheets of today’s meeting notes from the Cavallero project. You pause.

Jonas. That was the name that was on top of the paper in Suga’s office. What would be the odds that the Jonas on the paper would be the Jonas Cavallero you were working for? If that Jonas was the same Jonas, then was the location on the paper one of the events you were working on? How would Suga have that information? You sit against the side of your bed. Unless -

Yanking your phone out your purse’s side pocket, you google “Hastings & Lewis benefit gala”. Just as you’d suspected, the information is public knowledge: the third Saturday of May at the Finca Corte. There is no way in hell that Spiral is catering that event; they weren’t ritzy enough to be hired by the likes of one of the most expensive hotels in the city for one of the biggest events on the city’s calendar. Something is going on and you just know all of this is connected somehow. You just need proof. Maybe Maya is right. You’d broken into a few places before. How hard could it be to get into Suga’s office?

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

ⓒ joon-ipersgirl, 2020

[idyllicstarker]

Could you do a selectively mute peter parker fic where peter after years of not speaking finally speaks to Tony to confess that he is in love with him?

I found this extremely hard to write and I’m not too sure why, so I’m sorry if this isn’t too good for you. I hope you can forgive me! Also tumblr said no to paragraphs so I’m sorry about that too!

Warnings: Mute!Peter, very minor sexual implications

Everyone always told him it was a shame that no one had noticed young Peter Parker closing in on himself - maybe then, early intervention could have been taken, and Peter wouldn’t be silent now. In a way they were right, after the death of his parents, Peter had begun to speak less and less. It was a slow, and gradual decline. His speech became shorter, less frequent, but when he did speak, he was smart, for a child, so no one really thought it was a problem. He was sad, not quite old enough to recognise the trauma, but enough to feel the loss and confusion.

When his Uncle Ben died in the fire, well that’s when people really began to notice it. Peter wouldn’t speak, not unless he was called for. His sentences became short, sharp, and straight to the point. Never speaking longer then he needed to.

And then one day they just stopped altogether.

It wasn’t that Peter had lost it, no, he chose this. He chose to go quiet because it just seemed far easier. And although it was a difficult task at first, he soon realised it was one of the best decisions he’d ever made.

Not speaking allowed him to listen - pay attention to things he wouldn’t have before, because he didn't have to open his mouth and join in the conversation. He was allowed to just observe for the most part. Of course people still spoke to him, but very few did, they didn’t like it, they found it awkward, or not worth their time. It didn’t matter to Peter. He wasn’t selectively mute to be special, it wasn’t a personality trait or a quirk - he did it because he felt safer when he was locked in his own silence. He knew, at first, if he was to open his mouth everything he felt would spill out, it frightened him. Now, it was a habit, and some days he knew he wouldn't be able to speak even if he wanted to.

Thus, young Peter found other ways to communicate. At first it took a lot of getting used to. Having to scrawl down on paper what he was trying to say; or type into his phone for it to repeat it back aloud; being shouted at by teachers when he wouldn’t answer a question by voice when he was picked on; adults and children alike finding him rude for not replying. Many still thought that, but those close to him, and those in school, knew by now that Peter just wouldn’t speak, no matter how much you shouted or scoffed at him.

Well.. almost everyone. Flash, for example, was still trying to get Peter to speak to him. He called him weird, abnormal; said he was attention seeking, even hitting and kicking him in order to try and get Peter to yell out. But the most he got was a pained whimper or grunt. But it didn’t matter. Peter was still happy. Despite what other people thought.

Meeting Tony had been interesting. Him and his friends had gotten into the habit of learning sign language to communicate. It was helpful and they did it naturally. But Tony, and the rest of the avengers, took a bit of time in understanding Peter. But they never once got frustrated. And Peter was glad - having been asked countless times before why he “wouldn’t just speak”, it was nice to not be questioned for once. They tried, they all did, to be patient with him, and Peter was thankful. In meetings, he’d raise his hand, and Tony would allow him to let his typed out comment repeat his idea aloud, he was never left out of forgotten. Just because he wouldn’t speak, it didn’t mean his ideas went unnoticed, they were listened to and heard, but most of all, appreciated.

~

“Hey Peter, can you pass me the screwdriver?”

The younger male looked up from his desk in the lab at Tony, who was tinkering away at some device opposite him.

They two quickly fell into some sort of routine in which Peter was there most nights, helping Tony out and just.. as Peter liked to call it: hanging out. It wasn’t just a figment of his imagination, in a way they were actually doing that. Tony sometimes insisted that he slept over, or ate with him. And sometimes, after a particularly long day, they’d settle on the couch and watch a movie. It was everything Peter had ever dreamed of from his idol and more.

Except maybe for the fact that Tony treated him like a son. Now don’t get me wrong, he was flattered, but the crush he was harbouring for the older male, not so much.

Biting down on his lip, Peter nodded his head, despite the fact that he knew Tony wasn’t even looking at him. Grabbing the screwdriver he hopped down from his stool before walking over to pass it to Tony. “Thanks kid”, came the reply, causing Peter to sigh softly.

‘Kid’, he hated it. He hated the word because it only confirmed what Tony thought of him. And as selfish as it was, Peter wanted more. He wanted Tony. Every moment he spent with him he found himself falling madly and madly in love with him and it just didn’t stop. Every accidental touch left energy buzzing through his veins. And it hurt, it hurt so bad, that Tony didn’t feel it too and only saw him as some sort of child.

Moving back to his stool, he sat down, and pulled his tablet towards him. He pressed on the pre command “you’re welcome”, and listened as it emitted the words.

A couple of months back Tony made him the special tablet to make typing out audio quicker. It had precommands for efficiency and Peter could set it to save anything he’d like. Peter almost cried when Tony gave it to him because apart from Ned (who’d learned sign language for him; mj of course already knew it) no one had ever tried that hard to ensure Peter could have a normal conversation with them.

It made everything so much easier. From simply talking to Tony, to answering questions in class, to ordering food in a restaurant.

His fingers brushed over the screen affectionately before his gaze moved over to where Tony was hunched over his workbench. Peter’s lips turned up in a smile at the sight. The man was covered in various smudges of a dark liquid Peter couldn’t identify. His face was scrunched in concentration the way it always was, lips pressed together, eyebrows furrowed together, jaw clenched.

It made Peter laugh softly, typing out a quick sentence. “You need to relax Tony, anyone would think someone is forcing you to work!”

The man looked up with tired eyes, before rolling them slightly. “I am relaxed!”, he protested, before sighing and setting down the screw driver at Peter’s ‘don’t even start with me’ look.

“Alright kid, fine. We’ll finish up for today. We’ll go take showers and then watch a movie, I think Chinese tonight?”

Peter’s smile grew at the offer, shyly tucking some hair behind his ear as he nodded. The smile that grew on Tony’s face had his heart fluttering quite softly. The man was so handsome, from his rugged jawline that Peter desperately wanted to press kisses over, to his eyes. They were always so soft and affectionate when looking at him. Those times when Peter gazed straight back into them were the times where just for a moment he could kid himself that Tony actually felt something back. Something more than pity for the silent kid with the traumatic past. But of course, Tony didn’t, and that was the reality. Tony could have anyone, beautiful men and women alike, he wouldn’t even look twice at little old Peter if he wasn’t his so-called ‘intern’ or on his team.

“Kid?”

Peter blinked quickly as he was snapped from his thoughts at the sound of Tony’s concerned voice. He smiled to show he was okay, before hopping down from his stool. Tony had come to stand in front of him, not sure on why Peter had suddenly lacked life, so when Peter stood, their bodies brushed against each other gently. Peter swallowed, a small blush falling over his pale cheeks, but of course Tony took it as embarrassment at being questioned instead, and laughed.

The sound only made Peter blush harder, shaking his head as he scrunched up his nose before sticking out his tongue - a pattern of expressions Tony had come to know as a playful ‘don’t be mean.’

He smiled softly, reaching out a hand to ruffle Peter’s hair. The boy in turn let out a huff, and swatted his wrist away. Grabbing onto the tablet he began to type before eventually his words sounded out. “You’re a mean old man!”

As soon as Tony heard it, he laughed out loud, shaking his head, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and beginning to lead him out of the lab. “I’m not that old, you’re just a baby”, he said in response.

Any other person may protest, or shrug and let it go, but to Peter, he felt a horrible pang in his chest. A baby, that’s all he was to Tony. He smiled sadly, suddenly interested in his beaten up old converse, and yet still overly alert at the fact that he was tucked against Tony’s side - and yes, the man smelt good. Hours in the lab did nothing to Tony’s hygiene, a loss of cologne maybe, but the musky scent of sweat and hard work only delighted Peter.

He swallowed tightly, willing himself to not turn his head so that he could get more and instead began to type once again.

“My therapist is coming tomorrow, so is it alright if I stay over, I don't see the point in leaving and coming back”

Tony nodded his head, “Of course Peter, you know you don’t have to ask”, he hummed softly, and Peter smiled. It was times when Tony said little things like that, that kept him happy.

The therapy began within weeks of Peter and Tony growing closer. Despite still not knowing the direct cause of his silence, let alone working to get him to speak more, it helped him come to terms with the traumatic events of his past. And it helped, it did, Peter was happier, he smiled more. Despite protesting Tony paying for it at first, the man simply shrugged him off. And even now, Tony would say it’s ‘money well spent as long as you’re smiling.’

Eventually they ended up outside Peter’s designated room, and Tony let go. Peter already missed the warmth and safeness he had felt, but of course he simply nodded at Tony’s commands of “take as long as you need, and I’ll meet you downstairs”, as the man walked away.

With a sigh, Peter walked into his room. Setting the tablet down on his desk he closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go trying to hide it. He was certain everyone could see the way his pupils dilated when he looked at Tony, the softer loving smile on his lips, the way he gazed over him longingly. Everyone could see it but Tony.

He’d gone through months of this. Tony being seen with various people, and Peter even seeing some leaving the tower. It was torture for him because he wanted to be the one in Tony’s bed. And yet he couldn’t.

When Peter was done with his shower he made his way downstairs. Tony was already in the lounge, sitting down on the couch, remote in his hand as he seemed to be watching some type of football. He had on grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and Peter had to bite down on his lip because Tony just looked so good when he was relaxed and casual. Don’t get me wrong, the expensive suits were sexy, but the intimacy of seeing Tony like this was always something he didn’t quite get over.

The arms of his hoodie pulled over his fists, he shuffled over to the couch, smiling softly at Tony as he set the tablet beside him.

“Hey kid”, came the greeting, Tony bowing his head slightly, “why don’t you choose something to watch and I’ll order some food. You want the usual?”, he asked.

With a slow movement, Peter took the remote from Tony’s outstretched hand and nodded his head. He remembered… he always remembered what he liked. The thought made his heart swell as he began on to Netflix and tried to concentrate on finding an interesting movie but it was hard when he was so close to Tony’s warm body. The man’s legs were open, leant back against the couch, strong thighs apart. The sinful things Peter would do to get between them.

He clenched his eyes shut. No! He couldn’t be thinking like this. Letting out a soft sigh, he stopped on a movie he thought they both could enjoy before shuffling to cross his legs underneath him.

“You know Pete, me and you don’t really talk. You don’t tell me about yourself.”

Peter was confused at the sudden words, turning his gaze to look over Tony, but the man’s own gaze was down on his phone, seemingly still ordering the food. Licking over his bottom lip, Peter shrugged before beginning to type.

“Well… what do you want to know then?”

Tony smiled, but stayed silent for a moment, before setting his phone down and turning to look at the younger boy.

“Well, I know about your friends. But what about someone special in your life huh? Rumour was it, for a while, that you and MJ were a thing?”, Tony questioned.

The moment Peter received his reply he began to splutter, hitting his chest to try and get his heart to restart. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting but, it wasn’t that. His pulse sped up, and suddenly the room was way too warm. Did Tony know? Had he been reading his thoughts or something - no, that wasn’t possible… but this didn’t make sense.

With trembling hands he resumed typing, hoping he wasn’t acting too suspicious. “No.. no, we’re not.. I don’t really like anyone.”

Tony scoffed, shaking his head. “Come on kid that’s gotta be a lie. Look at you. You’re beautiful. Even if you think you don’t like anyone, someone has gotta like you..”

Tony continued but Peter wasn’t really concentrating. He didn’t know if he wanted to blush at being called beautiful by him, or throw up at the questioning. It was a lot, and suddenly Peter didn’t want to be beside Tony at all. He could still hear him talking, but he couldn’t make out anything he was saying. Everything was so blurry, everything felt so out of place. Peter knew now was his moment but his hands couldn’t type. They refused. His heart however was screaming.

It all happened so quickly before Peter could even register he’d done it.

“It’s you. I love you Tony.”

The voice that spoke was quiet, raspy. From years of barely being used. It sounded soft, but yet husky, it hadn’t quite got used to it’s vocal chords. Peters hands were shaking and his eyes widened as he’d realised what he’d done.

One quick glance at Tony, and he noticed the man’s own eyes were wide open too. He clearly hasn’t been expecting to hear Peter actually speak. It was the first time he’d ever heard his voice. But that wasn’t the only reason why he was shocked. That confession… he hadn’t been expecting it.

But Peter knew at that moment he’d messed up - or at least that’s what he thought. He was ready to run, bolting up, but was surprised to feel a hand grab onto his own, and pull him back down. He refused to look at Tony. But he didn’t need to.

A calloused but gentle hand grabbed onto his cheek, angling his head to face him. Yet Tony didn’t speak. Simply leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Peter’s soft lips.

When he pulled away, Peter’s heart was racing. It was like someone let off a firework inside of him. Everything was on fire, in a good way. He was slightly panting as he looked over Tony’s eyes, and then his lips, gently curled into a smile.

“I love you too Peter”, came the gentle words.

Peter’s eyes widened in disbelief, shaking his head, yet Tony only chuckled and pulled him to his chest. Peter let out a soft relieved breath as he turned his nose against his neck to breathe in his scent. He didn’t speak, but Tony wasn’t expecting him to.

“We’ll work on you speaking again, okay?”, Peter nodded. “But please, please don’t hide from me, I want to hear you sweetheart.”

Peter smiled, curling up more against the older man. “Okay”, he croaked out. More confident now, it was obvious.

There was so much more that they needed to discuss, but for now, he was silent, but he knew he didn’t have to be forever.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

i wanna know what love is - 03

Pairing: rockstar! sebastian stan x writer!reader

Warnings: sebastian is a still a bit of a prick with integrity 

A/N: let me know what you guys think, i love receiving your feedback xx

Last Chapter // Next Chapter

Sebastian studied the intern as she walked around the tour bus with one of his bandmates, Fred. Fred was the youngest in the band and probably the one closest in age to Y/N. He was a drummer and Sebastian found him to be too soft to be in the lifestyle he was so he hadn’t found it strange or surprising when he got married to the first fan he had met. Therefore, he found him to be more of her type of person. 

He saw her as a little sheep in the middle of all the writers and reporters who’d come with the band during the early tours. She dressed like she was coming in for a job interview and he could see her hands shaking as she held her phone and yellow note pad in her hands. Sebastian couldn’t help it but find her incredibly odd with her black rimmed glasses and the way she looked like she wanted to hide and not cause any harm by just simply existing. She would be eaten alive in her little dream job. 

Nevertheless, het let her do her thing. She got to meet Anthony, Fred and Michael who were starstruck by the idea of having their farewell tour being followed by someone from Rolling Stone. Eventually she got invited to go to their last “bonanza” outing in LA.

They found themselves back at the Vixen and Y/N found herself in her worse nightmare. She wasn’t one for partying, she had never been but if she wanted to have an actual useful review that Jason would want to publish she needed to live their life. Except for many the drugs and the loads of girls Sebastian liked to be around. 

The other boys were a bit calmer, she had found them to be all surprisingly married with stable home lives. One of them, Anthony, even had kids and had sat her down showing her baby pictures of all of them. It seemed to be Sebastian who was the wildcard.

     - Right, whose turn is it to get the shots? - Fred laughed, a bit drunk on all the vodkas he’d been having. Everyone’s eyes set on Y/N who was happily writing on her spirit stained yellow pad. - Oh, I think it’s the newbie. 

    - You’re gonna send the one who’s not drinking tonight to grab drinks for all of you? - she raised her head from the notepad, arms crossed across her chest.

    - We can’t send Sebastian, he might drink them all. - Michael pointed his beer bottle at Sebastian who was busy with a girl that had joined them a few minutes prior, cigarette always stuck in the middle of his lips as if it was part of his own body. Y/N had to be honest, despite hearing her parents and lecturers telling her smoking was bad and she herself understood it was, she couldn’t help but find the cigarette gave him a certain seductive appearance.  

   - Fuck off, Michael. - Sebastian flipped him off gaining chuckles from all around the table, even for Y/N whose lip corners twitched in a little smile while she scribbled the conversation for her magazine. - I’ll go.

   - Take Y/N with you. Just in case. - Anthony smirked watching his new founded friend and his old one reluctantly walking to the bar. She followed right behind him like a scolded child.

He found it easy to move through the crowd with people moving even before he got an inch closer to him while she seemed to apologise to everyone before she even got to ask them to move. It was no surprise that soon enough she had gotten lost in the middle of the crowd. Everywhere she looked she was surrounded by people, she couldn’t even think straight with the loud music banging through her ears and brain making her enter an anxious state before someone grabbed her arm.

She looked up to see a guy maybe in his late 20′s with pushed back blonde hair and a white shirt. He gave her a toothy smile but instead of feeling glad she was being pushed out of the crowd and onto the bar where she could possibly find Sebastian, her brain was screaming at her to shake her arm from his grip but her body was seemingly numb to the new environment. 

  - You seemed a bit worried in that crowd. - he said as they both reached the bar which was lit with purple and blue lighting, hurting her eyes. - I’m Jack, nice to meet you.

  - Thank you for the help but I need to find my friend. - she gave him a sincere smile, neck stretching so she could find the long haired brunette man in the middle of the crowd. 

  - Calm down, love. - he placed a hand on her shoulder getting a dirty look from her which seemed to go unnoticed by Jack. He pressured her to take a seat in one of the black leathered chairs by the bar, that unnerving smile already in place. - I’ll help you find your friend, why don’t you let me buy you a drink?

  - Thank you but I’m really not in the mood for a drink. - she looked to her left and to her right trying desperately to find Sebastian or someone she knew so she could escape this interaction. 

  - I’m not a bad guy, c’mon love. - he turned her chair to face him and only him much to her discontent. 

  - She said no, mate. Bugger off. - she looked upwards to see a very discontent Sebastian staring down at the man. Jack got up ready for a confrontation but all died down once he saw who he was talking to. Like a coward he turned his eyes to the floor and disappeared in the middle of the crowd, leaving Sebastian and Y/N alone. - How hard is it to follow me to the bar? It’s not rocket science, newbie.

 - I’m sorry if people don’t spread out when I show up. - she crossed her arms at him. - Thank you for getting rid of him though. 

 - Didn’t do it for you. - he huffed, holding her by her wrist as she carried her through the crowd and back to the table where everyone else is. She smirked fully knowing he was not about to soften his rock icon facade. She let him do it, that was what he lived for, that was what other people saw him as. - What are you smirking about?

 - Nothing. - she shrugged as she reached the table, returning to her seat, eye contact still strong with Sebastian. - Absolutely nothing.

[sophisticatedloserchick]

Fanfic - You Could Make a Girl Fall in Love With You - 1/1

Summary: Millie finds herself caught betweent the man she thought she loved and the man she wants to love - AU based on the Flash Musical episode, aka Gangster Noir AU

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1613

A/N: For Iris West Allen Week. Based on the Day Seven prompt: Fave AU Iris.

Its a cold winter night in Central City.

Most of its citizens are tucked away in their beds. Their blankets and pillows shielding them from the harshness of the winter's night. Only those up to no good or the foolish would be out on a night like this.

Barry Allen definitely would be cast in the 'foolish' category.

He's currently standing out on the street watching over a girl who he desperately loves but doesn't know he exists. The whole thing sounds tragic, like a story from those dime paperback romance novels. But Barry always seemed to have that kind of bad luck.

Millie was the daughter of the most formidable crime lords in the city who just happened to be Barry's bosses. She was known as a real beauty. Her dark curly hair cut in the short flapper style framed her heart shaped face. Her full lips always painted in her signature ruby red. Her dark eyes that seemed to draw in every man like a moth to a flame. Most men would lie themselves down on the railroad tracks in front of a incoming train if it meant Millie would spare them one glance.

Barry couldn't deny he would do exactly that. But as it stood Tommy Moran had Millie's eart so Barry would have to settle for watching over her.

Cause you see Tommy is the son of Millie's fathers biggest rival and Barry had been tasked to watch over their beloved daughter because of it. Barry had to make certain that the Moran boy doesn't mistreat her they told Barry. And if a chance to slit Tommy Moran's throat presented itself Barry had been ordered to go for it.

It's a regular Romeo + Juliet type of deal that Barry found himself in the middle of.

Barry's eyes flickered upwards to the windows in the apartment several stories up. All the curtains were drawn but the lights inside cast a warm glow that allowed him to see the shadowed figures of Millie and Tommy moving back and forth across the apartment. They were pacing a lot tonight which did not bode well. Usually he had the distinct displeasure of seeing the silhouettes of a man and woman in a lovers embrace.

Tonight was different and he couldn't put his finger on why.

!!!!!!!!!!!!

Millie pulled her silver fox furred coat tighter around herself as she stepped outside.

She hated freezing cold nights like this when the weather didn't have the decency to at least snow. Because Millie loved the snow, the big fluffy snowflakes that sparkled like tiny diamonds coating the world in a delicious white frosting. Much more preferable to the cold drab night she currently stepped out into.

She barely walked a few paces before she spotted the tall, lean frame of Barry Allen leaning against a lamp post. She huffed out a breath in annoyance at her Dads once again thinking she needed a chaperone wherever she went.

“Fancy meeting you here Allen,” Millie announced tersely as she approached him.

His head angled to look at her better and not for the first time Millie is struck by his good looks. The sharp angles of his face. His dark brown hair slicked back in a neat style. And when his pretty green eyes focused on her that made her heart skip a beat.

Internally she scolded herself for getting twitter-patted over a man that wasn't her Tommy.

“Out for a walk,” Barry said casually but she could hear the humor in his voice.

“Yeah huh. A walk my Dads told you to go on,” Millie replied sharply.

Barry gave a little shrug but said nothing else. Not that she needed any confirmation she couldn't even step out to go dress shopping without her Dad's men sent to follow her. Its the most frustrating thing for a grown woman to be treated like a child.

“They worry,” Barry spoke as though he read her mind. “They have a lot of enemies who'd love to get their hands on you.”

“Enemies like Tommy maybe?” Millie narrowed her eyes at him.

“Like Tommy's father,” Barry said gently but it didn't make it any easier to hear. Millie knew most thought her naive and foolish, that she didn't understand how the world worked, but Millie understood all to well the harsh reality of what he was saying.

“We better get you home,” Barry offered his arm out to her. “Its cold out tonight.”

Iris thought for a hot minute about heading back into the apartment and leave Barry to stand out here all night until he turned into a icicle. Serves him right treating her like a child. But the argument between her and Tommy from moment ago echoed in her ears held her back.

“I suppose for your benefit,” Millie placed her hand on the crook of his elbow, “I'm not a monster.”

Barry cracked a smile at her that made her heart flutter in a way that it shouldn't. As a taken woman she'd never admit it out loud she enjoyed walking arm in arm with him. Or that she felt safe with him as they moved through the dark streets. After all it was better then to walk home alone she figured.

As they both left looking like lovers out on a nightly stroll neither noticed in the window of the apartment above them a curtain had been pulled back to reveal Tommy watching them leave.

!!!!!!

Weeks later Millie found herself with a broken heart.

Days would go by and Tommy didn't return her phone calls and every note filled with love Millie wrote went unanswered. Mille even got bold and went to their secret apartment where she wait for hours in the hopes he would show up. But he never did.

Millie knew she needed to do a better job at hiding her distress. Her two dads constantly asked her what had been bothering her, they showered her with gifts and offered a trip to Europe to try to get her to smile again.

Even worse the ever watchful eyes of Barry Allen seemed to look right through her. Millie hated that he probably knew that she was being jilted by her boyfriend. She avoided him even more not wanting to see the pity in his face when looking at her.

Finally after weeks of silence and agony Millie found a note waiting for her where in short and stilted words Tommy said he didn't think they should see each other anymore.

Now Millie always saw herself as a strong woman. Her dads raised her to be independent and capable of facing any challenge. Which is why she found it very annoying that she ended up hiding in the garden of her parents house crying her eyes out because a stupid boy decided he didn't want to love her anymore.

To add more salt to the wound Barry Allen found her in this pathetic state.

“Oh god not now,” Millie sniffled as she struggled to wipe away the tears. “You really have the worst timing.”

Barry had the decency to look a little bashful as he ducked his head away. His eyes averted so as not to look at her directly. She then watched him fumble in the pockets of his dove grey suit jacket before he held out a pale blue handkerchief to her.

Millie eyed the handkerchief for a moment before reaching out to take it.

“Thanks,” Millie said as she wiped her tears and blew her nose. “I hate being a mess like this. Its very unbecoming for a lady like myself.”

“He's a fool,” Barry spoke up in a much more heated voice then Millie expected. “Any guy would kill to have girl like you.”

“Yo-you think?” Millie hiccuped through her tears as she looked up at him.

“I know,” Barry answered with such conviction even Millie could tell he wasn't faking it.

With her eyes cleared of tears Millie tilted her head back to get a good look at Barry. Not for the first time she admired how tall he was. She'd never admit it to Tommy due to his sensitivity about his height but Millie always found that there's something about a tall man she loved. She took a moment to really take in his fine features, his sharp jawline, and high cheekbones.

And of course those pretty green eyes that always made Millie's heart flutter.

“You better be careful Mister Allen,” Millie cracked a smile for the first time. “You could make a girl fall in love with you with sweet words like that.”

Barry spluttered and the pale skin in his cheeks went bright red. But Millie could tell underneath his embarrassment that her words pleased him. She wondered how good of a gangster he could be if he got so easily flustered, her dads selecting him to be her personal bodyguard always stuck her as strange. Then again the kind of loyalty Barry Allen had wasn't easy to find.

“Come on lets go,” Millie looped her arm through his, “I bet my dads are waiting for me right?”

“Er well not really,” Barry rubbed the back of his neck as they walked arm in arm through the garden. “I came looking for you because I was worried about you.”

“Aren't you sweet,” Millie giggled as she cozies up to him. “If I was smart I'd fall for a fellow like you.”

As Barry blushed even deeper Millie decided that falling for Barry Allen was exactly what she was going to do.

[lumilasi]

UPDATE: added her civilian outfit + updated rest of her bio

Her bio below 

Age: 34 when Kain and Ryuu arrived in her place the first time, 40 now

Sexuality: lesbian

KEI’S QUIRK EXPLAINED

Quirk name: Knight (Pros in normal, cons in bold)

SWORD MODE

When in this mode, her attack will always cause damage regardless of the opponent’s defenses and invulnerability. How severe it is depends on the opponent, but the attack will always have some form of impact.

She can also easily break through physical emitter attacks that require offence tactics, such as Ice or soil-based quirks that aim to immobilize you.

she can switch between her two modes fairly quickly by default, making her a very efficient fighter.

The strength of her attacks depends heavily on her physical health; if she’s feeling weaker, her attack efficiency is weaker too, as well as the speed in switching between her two modes.

She tends to be on her other mode by default, so Kei needs to physically switch herself into the offensive mode, and when she does that, she can’t use her shield mode abilities.

SHIELD MODE

“Shield mode” basically makes her immune/highly resistant to any types of attacks, and this includes non-direct emitters like brainwashing. She has this mode on by default constantly.

Quirk-erasure skills are the only exception to her immunity, though only indirect emitter types; any quirk erasure that requires physical contact won’t work on her.

Like with the sword mode, her defense strength and stamina depends on her current fitness.

RANDOM FACTS

- “Kei” means Knight, and “Reidou” means “mother” and “home” 

- Her new name was given to her by an elderly couple who took care of her for a while after she managed to flee the commission agents after her (by luck), making them think she was dead.

- Her original name basically means “fire heart autumn child”, a nod to her strong willed nature, warm color scheme and the fact she was born in fall.

- She often likes to wear tank tops and cardigans. For shoes she either wears those brown boots or sandals, all the time. Sandals for exceptionally warm weather, boots for any other weather. She refuses to wear any other kind of footwear. 

- She was a very skinny and petite as a child, but due to her quirk grew much more strong framed overtime. 

- Like said, Kei isn’t truly a villain but more of a vigilante. While she’d lost her trust in the system, she wanted still to help people, despite knowing it was risky as it could potentially reveal she was alive. 

- She drinks a lot of coffee, and does frequent a bar Aizawa sometimes goes to with Mic and Nemuri. She has even talked with the pro-hero at times and they kinda get along. Aizawa has his suspicions that she’s a Vigilante of some sort, but never asks questions about it.

- She works in a local coffee shop of the village she’s living in. As a result Kei drinks a shit-ton of coffee, and usually black. She also occasionally suffers from Insomnia.

- She’s not that bothered by Ryuu and Kain’s sometimes brutal and violent antics, because she has seen first hand how the supposed “good guy side” sometimes does even worse bullshit.

- Rankure gives her grey hairs with her gullible nature and tendency to end up mixed up in random schemes, but she loves her anyway. As long as she doesn’t get mixed with the big wigs on either side, she’s fine with her antics.

- Kei was the one who taught Wasabi how to use the staff, because he saw her train with it one day and thought it was cool, so he wanted to learn it too.

PERSONALITY

Kei is pretty calm and stoic for the most part, with a dry and sarcastic sense of humor. She is very distrustful of strangers due to her past experiences, and it takes her a while to warm up to people, apart from those she sees are obviously in great need of help; even with them, she won’t share her personal history easily. It took her a long time to tell her story to Rankure and Wasabi for example. 

She can be pretty intimidating when angry, and overall has big “momma bear” or “Mama Lion” energy as Rankure describes it. 

Because of her past, and guilt issues, she can take topics touching her history very personally, getting overtly aggressive to people’s faces for these issues, such as people being insensitive over death, child abuse, or when people ridicule somebody for questioning things reasonably (namely anything about the hero structure) She’s generally known for having the kind of temper that can go from zero to a hundred in a snap second if you rub her the wrong way.

She’s also not very fond of heroes, but doesn’t really hate them knowing most are just puppets for their leaders, not realizing how badly flawed the system they uphold is. Nowadays she just prefers minding her own business, running the small coffee shop and being the rational one in her found family. 

BACKGROUND STORY:

Kei’s parents were friends with Akashiro’s wife, and she used to babysit Kain when he was very little, before the boy was fully locked up in the facility his dad worked in. 

After his quirk manifested, Kei began to notice problematic signs from the way his father treated the boy, and how often he had to go through “clinical checks” that always seemed to leave the boy shaken.

Initially, the child did not want to tell her anything about what was going on despite her concern, but eventually relented, which prompted the then-teenager Kei to confront his dad about it. He told her to keep her nose out of his business however, stating it was a government matter, the situation with Kain.

She kept arguing over this with Daiki (Kain’s father) for months, after seeing more and more worrying signs in the boy, until one day he lost control of his quirk one time she was visiting the laboratory. After yelling at Daiki’s face she was dragged away and thrown out forcibly, told to return home. 

After this incident, her and her family began to feel like they were being followed, and one day as they headed for a holiday trip, their car swayed off the road due to a sudden storm, and caused it to fall to the sea; Kei managed to survive thanks to her quirk, but her parents died. (she later found out the car had been tampered with as someone *cough*theherocomission*cough* wanted to get rid of her and her family as they knew too much about Dr. Akashiro’s work)

She initially suffered from amnesia, and was taken in and raised by an elderly couple in a smaller more rural town, who also gave her her new name, named after the old woman’s late mother. Once her memory returned couple years later, she initially wanted to find out what happened that night, returning to the capital secretly. She quickly realized that trying to dig into this could be too dangerous, so she decided to leave it be. This trip inspired her to become a Vigilante though, as a bit of a way to make amends over her guilt for what she felt was her fault; her parents dying and an innocent boy being left behind in a horrid situation.

Years later, she ran into a young woman who was carrying a troubled looking child, being chased by a bunch of gangsters. Kei, being reminded of the kid she hadn’t been able to save, decided to step in and managed to drive off the gangsters by sheer intimidation thanks to her strength and durability that her quirk gave her. She allowed the pair to stay with her, not caring that the woman - Rankure - had a bit of a criminal record, let alone what she learned from the little boy, Saname.

She’d seen this all before, but this time, she could help.

Then, many, many years later, she was almost discovered by some government agents who’d heard rumors about a liability still perhaps being alive. Kain showed up however that day, basically steering them away from her and making them fully think it was a false alarm. 

As an expression of gratitude and another form of amend to Kain, Kei allowed him and his friend - whom she knew was a dangerous criminal, if not known around there - to stay as long as they promised to not cause trouble, which both agreed to. 

[imagineclaireandjamie]

I would love to see a sweet scene or two of William at Fraser's Ridge (circa book 9) bonding with Mandy and/or Jem. What do the kids think of their Uncle Willie?

Homecoming - Part Ten

Book 9 speculation; William arrives at the Ridge with his cousin Dottie the same day that the MacKenzie family has made their unexpected return.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine

*****************************************************

With so many people about the big house—and with so many of them watching him—William felt the need to get away. He couldn’t retreat to the room he’d been given upstairs. It was too close and would feel too much like hiding. They’d be waiting for him to come down and then he’d have to watch them restrain themselves as the impulse to bombard him with questions seized them all. Well… maybe not Mother Claire. But her gentle kindness and understanding would leave him feeling coddled and he didn’t need that either.

He just needed some space and some time to adjust to… everything. 

He slipped out the back, picked a direction, and began walking. The children were having something to eat and with so many of them about, it took a large number of the adults to get them sorted. He also thought he heard Jamie and Brianna discussing plans for some sort of building they hoped to start work on soon. 

William soon felt the tension in his head and limbs loosen. The air was crisp and had that clean feeling that can only be found when you remove yourself far enough from a habited space. The forest wasn’t too dense but there was plenty of shade keeping the area cool. He could find no discernable path and paused to take in and mark his surroundings. The last thing he needed was to get himself too lost to find his way back and require a search party. He would never manage to escape being watched if that were to happen. 

There appeared to be a clearing to his right, so William headed in that direction. He knew he wasn’t close to the big house, but he could — perhaps — pretend he’d been sent on an errand to one of the other houses on the Ridge and get a sense of just how far off he’d gotten. 

But there was no cabin or farm when he reached the edge of the clearing. Instead, the trees opened as they approached a steep dropoff. William kept to the treeline and safely away from the edge. When he looked up and out, a quiet and calming sense of awe overtook him.

A corner of the valley lay before him. He’d seen more stunning views in his travels through the colonies. He was momentarily thrust back into a memory of visiting the Ridge as a boy and Jamie taking him on a hunting trip. There had been a remarkable view along a cliff like this — though, that one had been steeper, the view stretching further. It must have been at a higher point on one of these mountains. 

It wasn’t the vast wilderness that William found incredible here. It was the columns of rising smoke. It was the empty spots among the trees along the mountainside. There had to be more than two dozen of them. The homesteads of settlers who had followed Jamie, trusted him with their lives and their families. Settlers who had built something for themselves in the wilderness — who were still building and would build long after Jamie was gone. 

William felt a stab of admiration for the man who’d fathered him. He had heard enough of Jamie Fraser’s history to know he hadn’t had an easy life — especially after the Jacobites were defeated — so to see how much he’d accomplished… 

It was difficult to make out but William was pretty sure he could tell which of the cleared spaces belonged to the Frasers. Marking it in his memory, he headed back into the forest and oriented himself in the right direction once more. 

As he walked, William’s thoughts traveled to his sister, Brianna, and all that she’d said about her own upbringing, how she hadn’t known Fraser was her father until she was grown. She’d certainly come to embrace Jamie Fraser. Hearing her talk, she’d clearly adored the man who raised her — and who’d lied to her. Somehow she’d managed to make peace with the two men and their roles in her life. 

He’d asked her about that too. What had she done to find that peace within her or had she just woken up one day and felt different. She’d said it wasn’t until she became a mother herself that she had really been able to come to terms with it all, as much as she ever would. 

“I looked at my baby and knew I’d do anything for him. I would never do anything to purposely hurt him. And I knew that all of my parents must’ve felt the same way,” she’d said. “I never would have imagined how many lies I’ve told my children — to keep them safe, to keep them innocent… Mostly small lies that won’t mean much in the long run, but little betrayals of their trust that they would be horrified by if they learned the truth now. And then there are larger lies, though they’re fewer and mostly lies of omission. Those are the ones I worry about,” she confessed. “I guess… because those are the ones that hurt me the most. But that’s why I give my parents a great deal of slack now, for what they kept from me.” 

William had let the subject drop, preferring to mull it over on his own. Where was the line between outright lies and lies of omission in his case? And how much did it matter? It didn’t change the love he’d received from his mother, his grandparents, or Papa. How much had they done it to protect him and how much had they done it to protect the memory and reputation of the mother who’d borne him? Again, did it matter? What would he have done in their situation? 

What might things have been like if he’d been raised by Jamie Fraser? That had to be a question that Brianna had asked herself too. Of course, she was Jamie Fraser’s daughter by Mother Claire, and anyone who saw the two of them together… Whereas, he… 

Jamie had told him several times that whatever regrets he had about William’s mother, he didn’t regret William’s existence. But that could mean… too many things.

Laughter. Not just any laughter, but the laughter of children. It was so light and happy it distracted William from his thoughts. 

Brianna’s children were playing in the woods. At least, those were the two he could see. William suspected the other children weren’t too far away. Fanny or, perhaps she was too old to bother with children’s games. But the older boy with the French name; he would be involved. He didn’t seem the type to miss out on mischief and fun. Right now Mandy was following a few steps on Jem’s heels as he crept through the underbrush to peek behind a tree. Mandy jumped and squealed but Jem shook his head. 

William turned his path to approach them slowly, continuing to watch them. 

There was a great commotion that involved Mandy shrieking with terror and Jem and another child laughing. 

Mandy didn’t seem amused. She turned on her heel to stomp away but stopped dead when she spotted William watching. The boys stifled their laughter and smiled benignly at William. 

“What have you three been playing at?” William asked. “It looked like you were enjoying yourselves.”

“We were just playin’ hide and seek,” Jem answered. “But I think Mandy’s had enough.” 

Mandy turned back around to glare at her brother. “Wha’ I’ve had enough of is you and Germain playin’ against me. I wanna be seeker.”

“And we dinna want ye gettin’ tired part way through and goin’ off to pick flowers and leavin’ us hidin’ till dark,” Jem threw back at her. 

Mandy’s face grew red at the accusation. 

“Perhaps you can explain the game to me,” William intervened. 

All three children looked at him with the same puzzled expression. 

“Have you never played it then?” Germain asked. 

“I didn’t have anyone to play with,” William explained. “No one my own age. I had tutors until I was old enough to go to university and then I went into the army.”

Mandy’s mouth gaped open. “Ye’ve never played before? At all?”

William chuckled, a little self-conscious under the gaze of the older boys. “I didn’t have the opportunity to play games very often, but I did play… And I rode horses a lot. It was uh… it was your grandfather who taught me to ride when I was about your age,” he told Mandy. 

“Grandda’s great wi’ horses,” Jem agreed.

But Mandy was still focused on the fact William had never played hide and seek before. 

“You can be seeker wi’ me,” she declared, turning to Jem and Germain to see if they would challenge her or let her have her way.

*************************************************

“They should have been back to the house by now,” Brianna remarked, anxiety overflowing. 

Claire tried to soothe her but knew it was pointless given all Brianna had been through the last few months. 

“They’re children, Bree. If they’re having fun, they won’t be thinking about how worried you might be or how late they are. Remember Germain is with them and he knows these mountains as well as your father does.”

Brianna’s arm suddenly shot out across Claire’s chest, forcing her to stop in her tracks. 

“I hear someone,” she whispered. 

Claire rolled her eyes and gently maneuvered around Brianna’s arm. 

“It’s William,” Claire said, keeping her voice quiet so their presence might remain unnoticed. “He’s got Mandy with him. I think… I think he’s playing with them.”

“Playing what?”

Mandy was on William’s shoulders, her hands in his hair guiding him. He had a grip on each of her legs and was leading her around from tree to tree so she could peer up into the branches from a higher vantage point. 

“Found you!” Mandy hollered, pointing up at Jem whose leg was just visible on a branch. 

Claire felt Brianna breathe a sigh of relief beside her, and then giggle as they watched William fighting to keep Mandy properly balanced amidst her excited flailing. At one point, she leaned forward over William’s head to peer at him upside down. The smile that broke out on his face at whatever she said caused Claire’s chest to tighten. 

“Shall we leave them to continue playing?” she suggested to Brianna. “I think they’ll find their way back on their own and I’d hate to disrupt them.” 

Brianna agreed and they slipped away unnoticed.

[killjoy-loveit]

Reality is Twofold- Pt. 1

A/N: I would like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction and isn’t to be taken as a true portrayal of reality. Honestly... I love this request! It really pulled me in and was like ‘this is how you’re going to write it!’ It’s going to be separated into two parts because I prefer my pieces to be easy to scroll through (also I enjoy cliffhangers).

Request: Yes, hello. I'm coming on anon for this request merely because I'm too shy, but I'd like to request a one shot or scenario - whichever you prefer, please :') Female reader, any POV that you prefer, with Winner's Mino, and for the trope - angst/smut, annnnnnnnd a mafia au if you're okay with that, please and thank you. I'm so sorry if this is a lot; I don't ever request fics, but I love your writing too much uwu

Word Count: 2,945

Genre: Angst, Mafia AU

*****WARNINGS: Violence, Blood, Mentions of Death*****

     This has been the only life I’ve ever known. Death lurking around every corner, reaching out its claws for its next victim. I never knew who I was going to lose next, which is why it’s better to not get attached to anyone. All of the death I’ve witnessed outnumbers the average person’s by a long shot. At this point I’m used to it, or at least that’s what I try to convince myself of. That because I can accept the harsh reality of mortality, it shouldn’t hurt as much when someone else kicks the bucket.

      Growing up as the child of a mafia hitman made me tough in ways that most couldn’t imagine. I learned to take apart and reassemble guns before I had a full grasp on my times-tables. While other kids went to the park to play catch with their fathers, I was learning how to disarm someone and shoot accurately. When other kids were working on schoolwork, I was focused on learning weak spots on the human body. As my peers went to countless parties, I attended funerals. And when they were focusing on applications and finding the best university to chase their dreams, I was about to take on my first hit.

      I did attend university, but only to get a degree that would be useful for the family. At the end of it all, I ended up with an accounting degree to help with the books. For me, there is no way out. Not that I even want a way out at this point. After living like this for so long I can’t imagine going to some normal, plain Jane lifestyle. Besides, all my family is in the mafia- cutting ties and trying to get out would only disconnect me from them. Which is something I don’t want.

     “Hey, are you here?” Juwon shouted.

     “Yeah, just finishing up a quick review of this week’s accounts!” I shout back.

     A few minutes later Juwon appeared at the doorway of the office. He leaned against it, cocking his head as he stared me down. “Yo, we gotta go. There’s this party with another group or whatever, I think the boss is wanting to make peace with them.”

     I rolled my eyes. “Doubtful. He only likes to stir up trouble in the name of peace talks,” Sighing, I set the paper I was looking at down. “Just let me have a few more minutes and I’ll be done.”

     “Fine, it’s your funeral if they notice we’re late.”

      True to my word I finished the work quickly and by the time we arrived the party was already in full swing. The house was packed with bodies, making it almost too difficult to maneuver. But it wasn’t impossible, and I ended up shoving past numerous people until I found the food table. At these kinds of events, it's best to stay off to the side and not interact too much. Getting involved can cause problems and end badly, I’ve seen too many of these parties end in bloodshed over some stupid interaction.

     I turn to face Juwon after grabbing a piece of celery from a tray on the table. “With this many people, how could they even notice we were late?”

     “You know how this works, someone’s always watching at one of these events.” He groans, rubbing his face. “We’re totally gonna get in trouble for this.”

     “You worry too much. No one’s going to realize we got here late.” I respond, pursing my lips at his whining.

     “Why were you guys late?” A voice questions from your side.

     I whip my head to the side, eyes widening as they land on the guy beside me. “I had to finish my work and Juwon was my ride here. Can you not tell your dad we were late, Mino?”

     “No problem, I just need a favor in return.” He says, a mischievous smile appearing on his face.

     “What kind of favor?” I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes on him.

     “I need you to pretend to be with me, like my girlfriend. There’s this chick, Jia, from the other group who keeps trying to get with me, she’s getting a bit handsy and annoying.”

     My eyebrows furrow. “Why don’t you just tell her to piss off?”

     Mino sighs, running a hand through his hair. “If I could do that I would, but I was specifically told not to cause trouble and she’s the daughter of a higher up in the other group.”

     “Fine. Fine, whatever, I’ll do it.”

      “Thank you!”

      Conversation flowed comfortably between the three of us over the next hour. Honestly, I had expected an appearance from the girl who’d been fawning all over Mino to come at any time. But it hadn’t come yet, so I relaxed in the conversation, almost forgetting about it. Which wasn’t the smartest move, if we’re being realistic. Juwon was recounting a story of training one of the newer recruits, the one that apparently didn’t know how to hold a gun properly. We were about halfway through this story when Mino suddenly wrapped his arm around my waist, deftly pulling me into his side. I was about to snap at him when I spotted a girl with a determined look on her face, heading right for the two of us.

      Jia came to a full stop once she stood right in front of us. I quickly noted that she appeared to be the type who only wanted to climb the ranks, despite her already high position. She was wearing a dark red halter top that cut off at her midriff, a pair of ripped high-waisted skinny jeans, and gold sparkly heels that were easily six inches. If something were to go down tonight, she wouldn’t be able to make it out fast enough. Not with those monstrosities on her feet. She huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder as she looked at us.

     “Who’s that?” Jia asked in a high nasally voice, pointing at me.

     “She’s my girl. You know, the one I told you about?” Mino responded raising an eyebrow.

     I extended my free hand to her. “Hi, a little birdie told me you were being really good to my man earlier.”

      “Yeah, I was being good to him. Didn’t think he actually had a girl though.” She muttered, obviously annoyed.

     “Why would I lie?” Mino cut in, fingers digging deeper into the fabric at my hip.

     “Well, she wasn’t with you so I figured you were lying.”

      I narrowed my eyes on her. “What? Am I supposed to be glued to his side just because we’re together? I have my own shit to do, he’s a grown-ass man- he can handle himself.”

      “Well, yeah, but who’s to stop someone else from trying to steal him away when you aren’t there?” Jia crossed her arms.

     “If I have to be around 24/7 to fend off girls, that means something’s wrong with our relationship. Obviously there’s nothing wrong with us because I know he can fend them off himself.”

     “Or it means you don’t care.”

     My eyebrows shot up. This girl really doesn’t care, she’s trying her damndest to go after him even after learning he has a girlfriend. Albeit a fake one, but she doesn’t know that. The conversation was beginning to upset me, not because I was attached to him, but rather that she couldn’t take no for an answer. And she was determined to try and make it seem like a girlfriend was supposed to be mindlessly jealous and be around her significant other at all times. I removed Mino’s arm from my waist as I stepped forward, getting into her personal space.

      “Excuse me?”

      “You heard me.” She snapped.

     “Heh, alright. You need to back off right now. Before I make you.”

      Right as I was about to actually get up in this girl’s face, I got pulled back. I turned my head to glare at the person who’d pulled me back, but it was Mino and the look on his face told me to drop it. I huffed and curled my lip in a show of annoyance, reluctantly backing down.

     “That’s enough, there’s not supposed to be any fighting tonight.”

      Juwon spoke up, stepping forward, in between us and Jia. “Yeah, ladies, there’s no fighting tonight. So how about everybody just chill out?”

     “Juwon, you may be my brother and all, but I swear if you ever tell me to chill out again I will cause you bodily harm.” I say through gritted teeth.

     He raises his hands in defense. “Sorry, sorry. It won’t happen again.”

      Jia stands there for a second, taking in the situation, makes an annoyed sound, and proceeds to stalk off. Even though she’d left, I still felt rather annoyed and tense due to the conflict. It took a few minutes for the tension in my shoulders begin to ease off. I couldn’t even listen to the conversation that Juwon and Mino were having. Once I relaxed a bit more, I noticed his arm was wrapped around my waist again, something I hadn’t even noticed when it happened.

     “Remove your arm.” I murmur in his ear, trying not to interrupt the story Juwon was telling.

     “What if she comes back?” Mino whispers.

     “Fine, keep it there if you’re so scared.”

     For the rest of the night he doesn’t stray from my side. Not when I went to the bathroom, he waited outside. Not when I went outside for a breather. Not when he got called over to our fathers, in fact his arm tightened around me in front of them. Not even when people slowly started filing out and Jia was nowhere in sight. Eventually I’d had enough, and pulled myself away from him. I explained that I needed to leave so that I could be up in time for an appointment I had in the morning. That was a lie, but I just needed to get out of there.

      There were times when I found Mino to be attractive, and found myself wanting to get closer to him. Tonight had unexpectedly become one of those times. However, I knew that getting close to him would only lead me onto a path filled with pain. He’s the boss’ son, the heir apparent, the one who’s going to take over when his old man croaks. It’s bad enough that my family is high enough up on the food chain with significant targets on their backs, but Mino? The target on him is the largest by far. Meaning if I get involved with him, or even slightly more attached than normal, the risk of getting hurt if he dies is increased tenfold. Catching feelings for him is something I cannot allow myself to do.

     Though with the events of the next week it seemed pretty impossible to avoid. Every time I went to the warehouse, Mino seemed to appear. Always hanging around, never actually appearing to be anything in particular. He was there under the guise of learning the workings of the business we run to clean the money made by illicit means. But it was clear that wasn’t what he was doing, no sirree. He appeared in my little office almost every day, claiming to need to hear the rundown of what I do- over and over again. When I called him out on it, saying that he should know what my job is by now, he played dumb. Like he couldn’t possibly be asked to remember what I do, and that’s why he always questioned me on it. Forget who his father is, I swore the next time he asked about it I was going to punch him.

      One particular night, when the sky had long since gone dark and the stars made their presence known, I was completely alone in the warehouse for once. Being alone in such a big building might tend to creep people out, as it can get a tad scary at night, but to me it’s become a comfort. I love being alone in the warehouse, I feel like it’s an opportunity for me to be free for a few hours. Not that I do anything crazy, it’s just nice to have moments when I’m not being observed. My music was blaring through the speakers, I was humming along to the soft tune while adding up all the accounts receivable.

     At least I thought I was alone. Allowing my guard to be down by believing myself to be safe is what ultimately failed me. I should’ve known by now that I should never let my guard drop. It happened so fast. One second I was fully entranced by the gentle harmonic melody of the piano, doing my calculations, and the next I felt the cool metal of a gun pressed to my temple. The blood in my veins went cold, my hand halting on the number I was writing down. My eyes flicked up to try and see who it was, but they were angled enough that I couldn’t make out any definitive facial features.

      “Stand up.” The voice was harsh, with a slight grumbling undertone. Almost like they spent all their time yelling.

      Cautiously, I rose to my feet. I refrained from turning my head in an attempt to better gauge the situation. When someone has a gun to your head it’s best to comply until you figure out the best course of action, if there even is one.

     “Where is he?” My captor’s voice broke halfway through the question, pain shining through their facade. The gun shook lightly on my temple, the person was obviously shaking.

     Taking a deep breath, I managed to keep my voice calm. “Where’s who? I need a name.”

     “Your boss! The one who runs this operation! Who orders people to be killed!” Upon the raising of their voice it became apparent it was a man that had a gun on me. His voice cut through the gentle swells of the music playing, creating a stark contrast.

     “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t know where he is currently. He could be at any number of locations right now.”

      The man’s voice turned frantic, almost frenzied. “No! No- you… You must know where he is! How else are you meant to keep up with him?” He paused for a second, his brain probably trying to piece things together, and as he did the gun strayed from my temple. “You’re lying! Tell me where he is!”

      The second he jerked the gun back to my temple, I took a chance. I jerked my head back, cracking it against the man’s face, there was a brief snap from the cartilage of his nose breaking. My hand shot up and grabbed a hold of the gun, twisting it away from myself and yanking. Once the gun was firmly in my hand, I spun around and leveled the gun at the man’s head. There was blood covering half of his face, dripping down onto his clothes, and covering the hand trying to keep his nose in place.

      “You made a mistake by assuming that since I’m a woman I’d be easier to go after.” I snarl, glaring at him.

     “I-I thought…”

      “Well you thought wrong. What exactly were you trying to accomplish by pulling this stunt? Are you asking to be killed? Or are you just an idiot?”

      The man dropped to his knees, voice trembling. “I just wanted- I wanted to make him regret killing my brother,” He looks up at me, eyes wide and plainly showing his fear. “P-please don’t kill me.”

      “Did you seriously think your plan would work? I understand that you must be grieving the loss of your brother, but unless you were hoping that your stupid idea would help you meet him sooner- you just made the worst mistake of your life.”

     Tears began to trickle down his cheeks, mixing with the blood on his lower face. “I just miss him so much. Do you know what it’s like to lose the person closest to you? It’s like I don’t know how to function.” The man’s words came out strangled, little hiccups interrupting him every so often.

     Despite the sympathy I could feel rising in me, I was aware that I couldn’t let him go- his story was sad, but very common. If we let those who were seeking revenge free, they would just come back again and again until they felt they had achieved some sense of justice. Many people have gotten killed because they got too deep and either screwed up a job resulting in their death, or they realized they shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place and tried to get out by going to the cops.

      I was reaching for my phone with my free hand when the music went dead. Once again I was put on edge. Tonight just refuses to go smoothly. If I have to fight on more people, I’m not gonna take it easy on them.

     “Hey, are you still here? Your brother said you hadn’t come home yet!” Mino’s voice echoed throughout the building.

     I sighed, relieved- now I don’t have to call and report this, which would end up with me waiting an eternity for someone else to get here and deal with the man. “I’m in the office!”

      A minute later, Mino showed up in the doorway, a look of annoyance on his face. “It’s almost two in the morning, why aren’t you-,” He cut himself off, his expression turning into one of anger. “What the fuck is going on?” 

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

Sweet Dreams Chapter Six

Lucid dreaming: The process of being aware that one is dreaming. Some researchers believe that in lucid dreaming, the individual may be able to change the outcome of the dream or control their degree of participation in the imaginary (dream) environment.

Description: Lee Eunbyul has been plagued with hellish nightmares since she was a child. Not the sort of nightmares you may be familiar with. There are no monsters to evade, no serial killers to outrun, no auditoriums of classmates in front of whom to stand naked. Instead there is just…darkness. Endless darkness. With professional help, the dreams come less frequently. But after moving away from home to live with her sister, Eunbyul’s nightmare returns, only this time it’s different. This time…she’s not alone.

What would you do if you had the chance to change the outcome of not only your dreams, but your life?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn

Pairing: Namjoon x (f) OC

Word Count: 7.2k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Producer!Namjoon, Bookstore Clerk!Seokjin, Potter!Jimin, Producer!Yoongi, Dancer!Hoseok

Warnings: Frequent mentions of mental illness, infrequent swearing and mentions of alcohol

A/N: Hey guys! Here’s the newest chapter~ I hope you guys are enjoying this series! I’m really enjoying writing it. This chapter in particular was v fun to write. Anyway, I hope everybody is resting enough these days! Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

Namjoon

“K-i-m-N-a-m-j-o-o-n-.”

I startled a little and rubbed my eyes, squinting at the person who’d roused my attention. Jisoo stood beside my desk, furry brows raised. It had been a few days since he’d bothered to check on me, and seeing the look on his face now I was sure he regretted not coming sooner.

“Been trying to get you to notice for a minute, dude,” he said, patting my shoulder as he raised a mug of hot coffee to his lips. He stared over my shoulder at the monitor before me. “You making good progress with the commercial soundtrack?”

I swallowed hard and stared at the half-finished track on Cubase. Uninspired. The project window was home to several presets from the preloaded packs on the software, nothing like what I’d use at home on my own. It sounded fine so far, or as fine as it could. But there was no heart in it, not really. Instead, it sounded as hollow as it did commercial. I was sure the client would like it. What concerned me, really, was finding the strength to finish it.

“Uh, yeah. Should be done by tomorrow,” I said, and even my voice was lackluster. I pinched my nose bridge and rubbed circles, squeezing my eyes shut.

“You okay?” asked Jisoo, but it was clear from his tone that he was only halfway interested.

“Yeah, fine,” I said, waving a hand. “I’m cool. Just…tired I guess.”

He hummed. “Gotta sleep well if you wanna be a producer.”

I nodded, but couldn’t help but think of Yoongi. He was working as a real producer, and there wasn’t a single night in recent memory when I could remember him going to sleep before the sun rose.

“Thanks, Boss,” I said, offering a smile.

He patted my shoulder. “Take care of yourself, okay? We can’t afford to lose you,” he said with a laugh. It was the uneasy sort of chuckle you give someone when you want them to reassure you.

I nodded. “I don’t have anywhere else to go anyway,” I said as he smiled and walked back out to the floor. I sighed and again pinched my nose bridge.

“Hey,” said Jungkook from his desk, staring at me with knitted brows. “You really don’t look so good.”

I smiled and waved my hand. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Saying that makes me more worried,” he said, resting a round cheek in his hand. “What’s going on with you? For real?”

I inhaled sharply and sighed, shutting my eyes. “Just…I dunno, I feel kinda sick today I guess. Haven’t been sleeping well, and I woke up…forget it, alright? I’m fine.”

“No, keep going,” said Jungkook, and coming from anyone else I might have thought he was teasing me. But this was Jungkook anyway, and he only seemed to know how to be sincere. He kept his eyes on me.

I shrugged. “Woke up kinda sad.”

Jungkook raised his brows. “Huh?”

“Forget it.”

He shook his head. “No reason for it?”

I thought a moment, puzzled. “Well…it’s not like usual, you know? Like when you just feel sad and you can’t really diagnose it,” I said, nodding. “It feels like there’s something really important that I’m missing.”

Jungkook hummed. “Maybe it has to do with work?” he offered, tilting his head with a sigh. “We all know working here isn’t your number one choice.”

I quieted down, staring at the project on my screen with furrowed brow. While I was sure it wasn’t something so simple, that the real cause was still evading me, his words unsettled me. “Maybe…,” I said, shaking my head.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone, typing a message as quickly as I could before returning to the track.

Namjoon: Hey, Hoseok. Haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Wanna go to the beach?

Hoseok: huhuhu…u gonna collect crabs the whole time?

Namjoon: …

Namjoon: Crabs are fascinating…

Hoseok: looooooooooooool

Hoseok: nerd

Hoseok: i’m in either way :-D

I sat crouched on the shore, poking my index finger into the little holes I saw along the sand. Every now and then, something would bulge and shift beneath the sand’s surface, a sign of life. Smiling, I worked my thumb beneath one of the bumps.

“I thought I said no crabs,” grumbled Hoseok as he licked his popsicle. The thing was already staining his tongue and lips violet.

I hummed as I grabbed a small crab from under the wet sand. “You did say that,” I said with a chuckle as I smoothed the pad of my finger along the crab’s back. I flipped it over in my hand and presented it to Hoseok. “See this plate right here?” I asked, pointing to the smooth shell of the crab’s stomach. “That means it’s a female!”

“I don’t care,” said Hoseok with a heavy sigh.

He leaned back on his palms, three separate leashes hooked around his wrists. The dogs themselves were behaving well enough. The golden retriever was resting his blonde head against his paw, eyebrows shifting as he looked around the beach. The collie panted beneath the unrelenting sun, laying on her stomach with her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. And the pug simply sat on Hoseok’s lap, eyes shut.

I set the crab back down and crawled over to where Hoseok sat with his legs extended in front of him, taking up an entire blanket by himself. I smiled and collapsed beside his thigh. “Feels good to get out.”

Hoseok sighed and, with his free hand, gave my upper arm a firm smack. “Because you never get out to begin with,” he scolded.

I laughed. “Not all of us can be dog walkers.”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t have what it takes,” he said with a sigh, biting off a chunk from his melting popsicle. “Endurance, perseverance, patience, understanding-,”

“Are you saying you have all of those things?” I teased, glancing at him over my shoulder. I laughed as he reached a hand out to hit me again. “Sorry!”

As my laughter died down, I felt Hoseok’s gaze boring into my skin and, uneasy, I turned to face him properly. His narrow eyes seized on me, scrutinizing. “You seem weird,” he remarked with a cocked brow.

I inhaled quick, ready to refute him, but as soon as I met his inquiring eyes my breath escaped in a sigh end I rubbed my forehead. “I’m…not myself lately.”

He patted my back with an open palm. “Anything I can do?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so,” I said. “It’s been building for a few days. Things just…aren’t settling right for some reason. In my head, I mean.”

“Hm…,” began Hoseok, chomping down on his popsicle as he gazed out at the waves. “I wonder if there’s one cause.”

“Probably not,” I said with a soft smile. “Never is just one thing.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m fine,” I said, nodding once as I swept my eyes out across the glittering ocean horizon. “Honestly.”

“Mhm,” said Hoseok as the pug on his lap stretched, letting out a yawn. He rubbed its back, a fond smile on his face. “You know, dogs are pretty clever.”

“Huh?” I asked, turning to face him.

He chuckled and nodded. “Might not look like it right now,” he said with a pointed look at the panting collie. “But they’ve got shit figured out.”

I smiled. “How so?”

“Well…for one thing, they understand the value of a pack. A close circle to watch their backs,” he said, nodding. “They’re loyal, won’t ever intentionally hurt someone they love.”

“I guess.”

“They’re honest.”

I raised my brows, eyeing him. “Hm?”

He was still stroking the sleepy pug’s back, smiling gently. “They don’t know how to be any other way. They don’t know how to pretend.” He lifted only his eyes to meet mine. “When they’re upset, they can’t lie and say they aren’t.”

I stiffened. “Well…they can’t speak.”

He laughed. “That’s not what I mean,” he said, easily leaning back on his palm once more, watching as sugary purple syrup began trailing down his forearm. “They can’t put on a brave face and go about their day like nothing’s wrong. When a dog’s upset, they howl. And they keep howling until they feel better.”

I exhaled slowly. His words weren’t lost on me. I knew well what he was trying to say. And as I took a look at him over my shoulder, I could see from the way his eyes implored me how deeply he wanted me to understand. I gave a smile and nodded.

“Sometimes you gotta just let yourself howl, Joon,” he said, lifting the dripping remains of his popsicle to his mouth and biting it whole. He pocketed the messy stick — much to my dismay — and patted his legs, moving the pug so he could stand. “What do you say I show you someplace cool?”

Me, Hoseok, and three panting dogs enter a pottery store, I thought to myself as Hoseok began calling for the quaint shop’s owner, like bulls in a china shop. The dogs took to sniffing every crevice and corner they could reach, pushing damp noses against delicate pots, pawing at shelf legs, scratching the many ornate rugs on the floor. I watched with a cringe as the golden retriever began jumping beside one of the organized shelves, likely trying to explore the higher levels.

Hoseok corrected the dog with a soft jerk of the leash and continued calling. “Jimin! Park Jimin!”

“Jesus!” called someone from the back of the shop. From the doorway there emerged a young, wide-eyed, flushed guy with a messy apron and knitted brows. He scanned the floor and saw the pups wandering about, immediately wincing. “Jung Hoseok! I told you to stop bringing the dogs!”

Hoseok laughed and shortened the retriever’s leash, wrapping it around his wrist once more. “They’re behaving!”

“Behaving — my ass,” said the young boy, grumbling as he rubbed his forehead. “If any one of them puts their cute little snouts into any of my vases and knocks it over, you’re paying double.”

Hoseok smirked. “Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see them,” he teased.

Jimin opened his eyes with a sigh, brows still furrowed. “I’d be happier if I saw them outside.”

“Heh,” breathed Hoseok, petting the collie on her head. “Anyway, Jimin this is my friend Namjoon.”

Jimin’s eyes slid over to meet mine and he blinked a few times. “That’s a tall friend,” he remarked. He wiped his right hand on his apron a few times and took a half step toward me to shake hands. I took it with a smile. “Nice to meet you,” he said gently.

I nodded. “Likewise.”

“Now you,” said Jimin, pointing a small, accusing finger at Hoseok. “Didn’t I tell you to warn me when you decide to come over?”

Hoseok rolled his eyes. “Do we have to do that among friends?”

“Shut up,” said Jimin, crossing his arms. “I was in the middle of glazing and now my employee’s gotta do it on her own.”

“You got an employee?” asked Hoseok, clearly surprised.

Jimin paused for a moment before smirking. “Mhm,” he said, smug. “And she’s pretty good too. Really interested in pottery.”

Hoseok scoffed. “Don’t tell me…,” he began.

Jimin raised his brows. “Hm?”

“You didn’t hire her because she’s cute, did you?”

Jimin laughed and patted his leg. “Ah, well…it’s not like she’s not cute,” he began, then sighed and shook his head. “Nah. I just…wanted to give her something to do, I guess.”

The words hit me strangely. Was this employee wandering too? Curiosity began to grow in my stomach. “Anyway,” continued Jimin. “How do you two know each other? I’ve been stuck with you since diapers and I’ve never met your tall friend,” he said, eyeing me sidelong with a smirk.

I cleared my throat. “Uh, I had extended family out here, so I visited often as a kid. He lived near my grandma’s house, so we played as kids.”

“He moved here in elementary school. We were in the same year, so we hung out more,” said Hoseok, waving his hands. “Anyway, if you’d gone to our school instead you would’ve known before.”

Jimin laughed. “I also wouldn’t have been bullied,” he joked. I stiffened. Was that something he could be so nonchalant about? “Gotta laugh so you don’t cry, right?” he asked me once he noticed my reaction. He chuckled. “Ah, but what did you want anyway, Hoseok? I can’t really leave my employee by herself too long.”

“Cheeky,” said Hoseok and Jimin only rolled his eyes. “I figured you could show Namjoon how you make pottery.”

“You want a demo?” asked Jimin, dry.

Hoseok nodded. “Mhm.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“With no warning?”

Hoseok pursed his lips. “I figured a great potter like you could do it on the spot…”

“Ugh,” mumbled Jimin, running a messy hand through his hair. He glanced between me and Hoseok a few times, jaw locked, before sighing. “Alright, let me tell Eunbyul first.”

“Eunbyul?” I asked, and the name fell off my tongue in a way that felt…familiar.

He nodded. “My employee. She can handle it on her own, but I don’t know if she knows that,” he said with a laugh. “Just give me a second.”

Jimin turned on his heel and jogged back through the doorway in the back and, unable to deny my curiosity, I followed behind and peeked my head in. Although the place was big and fairly organized, there were large pieces of machinery blocking my view of Jimin. But nonetheless I could see the back of a girl’s head, slightly shorter than him, waving dark hair restrained with an old newspaper rubber band. She nodded once and glanced down at the tray of freshly glazed cups in her hands. I couldn’t hear her, but Jimin smiled and gave her shoulder a squeeze. She seemed to sigh before turning and walking quickly to the kiln. With her back still facing me, she set the tray down and grabbed cups in both hands, placing them in the kiln. It took her all of thirty seconds to get all two dozen in, and as she turned and strode toward the vat beside the massive kiln, I watched a few stray strands of hair loose themselves from her rubber band.

I glanced down at my wrist, at the hair elastic I’d nearly forgotten about, and briefly considered offering it to her. But she seemed busy as she dipped chalky cups into the glaze, pulling them out shiny. She set them aside one by one, and there was something oddly confident and precise about her motions. Even the way she used the front of her wrist to push the locks of waving hair behind her ear seemed exact, focused.

Strangely, I found myself envying her.

And, as I watched her back, I felt the unmistakable sensation of an under-the-skin kind of itch, the kind you can’t scratch, even if you try your hardest.

Jimin approached and grinned at me. “Checking out my employee?” he teased.

I flushed and turned away quickly. “I didn’t even see her face,” I said, pouting a little.

He laughed and clapped my shoulder. “Let’s do this demo.”

And it hit me as Jimin began setting up the potter’s wheel and clay. Wordlessly, I sat down on the stool beside Hoseok and the dogs and fished around in my pocket for my phone. I yanked it out and pulled up my photos, scanning them. Sure enough, that photo I snapped at Hyejin’s the other day. The girl with the baseball cap. I saw her, sandy skin barely visible beneath the brim of her hat, Somi’s shoulder in the foreground, the girl drowning in clothes several sizes too big.

“That girl…,” I said, thinking aloud as I stared down at the photo.

Jimin turned his eyes to me and smiled. “Hm?”

“I…I’ve been seeing her everywhere lately,” I said, chuckling.

Hoseok sighed and leaned over his lap to get a better look at the shapeless clay Jimin was beginning to mold. “Make it into Justin Trudeau.”

Jimin paused a moment and squared his gaze on Hoseok. “The Canadian prime minister?”

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah. Do it.”

Jimin sighed and shook his head, not even bothering to respond, as I took turns looking at the photo on my phone and at Jimin’s deft hands working the clay carefully. It was impossible to explain, but the way he moved was inexplicably similar to that girl. Perhaps because she was his employee…

But that didn’t seem right.

It was more that they were both endowed with the same nameless quality.

A precision that only comes from—

“Passion,” said Hoseok in a whisper, leaning over to me.

I flushed, my attention now entirely on Jimin as he molded the clay into the vague shape of a flowerpot. “Huh?”

“That’s what makes Jimin so…,” he began, then chuckled. “It’s what makes him so Jimin.”

I was quiet for a moment. “I see,” I said. I might have been nervous that Jimin would overhear us talking about him if it weren’t for the unwavering focus captured in his eye. He probably wouldn’t have even heard an earthquake. “It’s mesmerizing.”

Hoseok chuckled. “Mhm,” he said. “Reminds me of when we were in high school.”

I raised a brow with a smirk. “How so?”

He hummed. “I remember during study hall, you’d always have your laptop out,” he said, laughing. “Mr. Kang hated it.”

I smiled softly. “Yeah. Told him it was for class president duties.”

“But all you did was make beats.”

I was quiet for a moment. Again, I understood what he meant. It was hard not to with a guy like Hoseok. As kind as he was, he was equally clever. He knew how to say something without saying it. I turned to him and we locked eyes. Instead of speaking, I just nodded my head and offered a smile. He returned it, patting my knee.

“Thanks,” I said as Jimin finished up with the main body of the pot. It was gorgeous, an elegant, long shape that tapered toward the bottom. Looked like the kind of pot you’d put a bonsai in.

“For what?” asked Hoseok, feigning ignorance with wide eyes.

I chuckled, squeezing his shoulder. “Just thanks.”

Cubase. God it had been a while since I’d used it on my home computer.

I sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, staring at the project as evening slowly became night. Yoongi still wasn’t back from work, likely putting in long hours finishing up that big collaboration he’d been working on for months. He wouldn’t tell me who it was with, but his excitement told me enough to know it was big.

I rested my cheek in my hand and sighed, tapping my fingertips against the coffee table. The song was nice, kind of slow. It felt a bit…melancholy but still hopeful. I shut my eyes and thought a moment. Could use vocals.

Quietly, I flipped through my lyric book and paused on a single word. Everythingoes. Written sloppily in the margins of a song I’d never finished. I cocked a brow. Back when I was younger, going to therapy, the doctor had told me something to that effect. Everything goes. Every moment, every pain, every trauma. I sat up straighter. Something about it rolled nicely, both in English and Korean. The lyrics beside it were meant to go with it. Perhaps if I recorded myself with Yoongi’s mic…

I changed a few things around, added some lines where I felt the words weren’t enough, and stewed over it for a long moment.

Everything has to hurt.

That line stood out to me. Silently, I padded into Yoongi’s room and grabbed the mic he kept hidden in the second drawer of his work table. I’d take the scolding later. I fell in a heap once more before my laptop and plugged in the mic. After a few tests, I cleared my throat and began recording the rap. If nothing else, I could find someone else to sing the chorus.

“Like morning comes after night, if summer comes after spring,” I began, and didn’t stop, didn’t stumble. “And every day I stay, because people and pain all die eventually.” I kept going, and even though I was rusty, I could feel some power in it. In the words. “Pray that this wind will pass like all winds do.”

I stopped to catch my breath, pausing the song and pulling the headphones off my ears with a sigh. I patted my cheeks a little, shook my head, and opened my eyes slowly.

But when I looked around, I saw something that hadn’t been there before. More specifically, a darkly clad someone standing with crossed arms beside the arm of the couch. I screamed before I could stop myself as Yoongi crossed the living room floor and sat on the couch beside my head, hunching over his knees to inspect my project with squinted eyes.

“Sounded good,” he said with a nod. I swallowed hard. Without looking at me, he continued. “Can I hear the beat?”

“Ah, uh, it’s still really rough and-,”

He turned to face me with one cocked brow. “Can I hear it?”

I hinged and unhinged my jaw a few times, but he was scanning me and I couldn’t stall long. I clamped my mouth shut and cleared my throat. “Um…yeah, sure.”

I unplugged the headphones and played what I had from the start. “I…I wanna add vocals here,” I said as the song began. “Something kind of…like a chant. Repeating, I think. Like a mantra.”

“Mm,” said Yoongi with a nod, brow low as he listened. I’d have liked if he didn’t listen quite so intently.

“Um…and then here I think I want the piano to get a little quieter.”

“Mhm.”

I nodded and decided to stay silent. He wasn’t giving me any feedback anyway, just listening. Instead, I just sat there like a kid, awaiting my parent to tell me if I did well or not. The song closed and I glanced over my shoulder at Yoongi who by then had his chin seized between his two palms, almost like he was praying.

“So…?” I hedged, eyeing him.

He nodded. “Really good.”

My eyes went wide and I stared at him like I was seeing him for the first time in the dark living room. I could just barely see his lips tilting in a bare smile. “R-Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie,” he said, leaning back with a nod. “Why haven’t you shared your work with me before?”

I stiffened. “Um…well, when we met you were already almost graduated with your degree, and I was just this young kid following you around. I…kinda figured someone like you wouldn’t want to listen to my shit.”

He cocked a brow. “It’s not shit though.”

“I just…I mean, you were a pro from the start, you know? Just…super confident from the beginning. And by the time I started to get really serious about it, you were already working for the label and I was getting recruited by a contract company,” I said, shaking my head. “I figured that alone was enough to show the difference in our leagues.”

“League?” asked Yoongi, brow furrowed.

I sighed. “I dunno. You’re…you’ve always been great. And I’m just…a sound engineer, really.”

Yoongi shook his head. “I’m telling you this because I mean it, alright?” he asked, crossing his arms. “If you got in with the right label, you’d do well.”

I sat up straighter, twisting to look at him properly. But instead, he was staring at my project, still smiling just barely. “Huh?”

“I’m not just saying that,” he said, nodding. “You could be a really successful producer.”

I was about to respond, perhaps pick his brain, perhaps thank him, but my phone began buzzing on the table and I jumped at the sound. Quickly I grabbed it, ready to silence the phone and return the call later. But I saw the name on the screen and paused. Hani. And at this hour…

Yoongi patted my shoulder. “Take the call,” he said, chuckling. “I know you don’t have a choice.”

I turned to stop him, but he was already striding towards his room. He didn’t even mention me borrowing his mic…

Sighing, I slid the phone open and took the call. “Hey…,” I said, and even I could hear that my voice was glum.

“Hey, uh…,” she said, her tone fragile.

I rubbed my temples. “What’s up?”

“It’s…it’s just Sooyoung. The divorce is almost final and they’re talking about custody and she’s kinda caught in, like, the crossfire or whatever. I’m worried,” she said, speaking too fast for me to keep up with.

“Have you talked to her?”

She sighed. “No, she’s not taking my calls. My parents texted me to look out for her, but she hasn’t even seen my texts,” she said. “I’m worried.”

“I understand,” I said gently. “Maybe go home for a few days and spend time with her, you know? Maybe she needs you there.”

“I know I’m just…I guess I’m kinda scared, you know? Like to go to my childhood home and see everything changing…it’s weird,” she said. “God, can I just come over tonight? Like movies or something?”

I stiffened. “Ah…jeez, Hani. I’m…I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“I know, I know. Joon, I’m so sorry. It’s just…I really don’t wanna be alone right now,” she said, voice breaking.

I felt my chest pinch a little. “Hani, why don’t you go home then?”

She sighed. “I told you-,”

“But if you can’t be alone, the best place is home,” I said, staring at my half-finished song. The one that would surely stay half-finished if she came over.

“I think it would be too hard.”

“Then what about your friends? Joohee lives close by anyway,” I said, desperate.

“Joon…,” she began, letting the word die in the air.

I sighed. “It’s not good for me, Hani. I wish you’d respect that.”

“I know. It’s selfish, and I know that. But…I just need to be with you right now, you know?”

“Don’t say that,” I said, pinching my eyes shut. But, to my surprise, my heart didn’t race like it used to. Instead, only annoyance.

“I mean it-,”

“Hani!” I shouted, slamming a hand on the table. I saw there on my wrist that hair elastic. What was it about that thing? “I’ve told you so many times, haven’t I? I’ve told you it’s not healthy!”

“Don’t yell!”

I shook my head, heart pounding now for an entirely different reason. “I’m not yelling,” I said, leveling my tone. “I…Hani, do you have any idea what it’s been like?”

She was quiet. “I…”

“Do you have any idea how hard it was? When you told me on graduation night. The years after. How you knew I knew you were still messing around on me,” I pinched my nose bridge. “I promised myself I wouldn’t make you feel guilty for it. That you yourself felt bad enough. That that would be enough for me too.”

“Joon…”

“But you can’t keep hurting people and expect them to give you the love you need,” I said. “You can’t keep putting me through the pain of reliving everything. It’s not fair.”

She said nothing. For a long time. But I heard the ambient sound of life on the other side of the phone, and I knew she was still there. Still listening, waiting for me to continue. But I didn’t have it in me. I’d said it. I’d finally howled.

“I…I don’t know what to say, Joon,” she said finally.

I nodded. “Me either.”

“I…can’t we meet up and talk this out in person?”

I exhaled, long and slow, and shook my head, eyes falling to the hair elastic on mu wrist. “No, Hani.”

She sighed. “Namjoon…”

“Go home, okay? Do it for Sooyoung,” I said before ending the call and tossing my phone onto the couch behind me.

Quietly, determined, I pulled my headphones back up around my ears, straightened my sweatshirt, and got back to work on the song.

“Namjoon!” someone called as I opened my eyes.

I didn’t even have a chance to react, because the girl who’d called for me had already wrapped her arms around my waist, burying her head in my shirt. It was familiar, this scene. Looking down at the top of a strange girl’s head in the middle of the darkness. Feeling her arms tighten around me. I might have resisted, might have pulled away, if I didn’t feel that same itch beneath my skin as I had watching that employee earlier today.

“Eun…Eunbyul?” I said, testing the name in my mouth.

She stiffened and pulled away, and once our eyes met the memories returned. Everything. Unwillingly, tears welled in my eyes and everything made sense. That wistfulness I’d been feeling all day, the sense of profound melancholia. After leaving the dream the night before, being so close, seeing something so painful, and having not even a spare second to console her…

Instead of saying anything, I swept her up in my arms again and let my head fall into the crook of her neck. She held tight too, like I might slip away if she didn’t keep her grip strong. She smelled like strawberry shampoo and the faint, barely-there scent of clay.

She breathed a shaky exhale and nodded against me. “I’m so fucking happy to see you,” she said softly.

I nodded, unable to summon words for a moment. “I…I saw you again today. At the pottery place.”

She nodded. “I saw you too. Walking away with Jimin.”

“I wish I would have gotten a good look at you,” I said.

“Me too…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

We stayed that way, embracing, for a moment that felt endless. Eunbyul was the first to break away, adjusting her glasses as she did. She sniffled a little, rubbing beneath her nose, and averted her eyes. Neither of us said anything, but it was clear something had shifted between us. Our relationship…whatever it was…was changing.

“Let’s…let’s do something fun tonight,” I said with a nod.

She smiled softly, pushing her hair from her face. She nodded. “I’d like that.”

Gently, I took her hand and shut my eyes. I tried to remember every detail of the place, every lamppost and vendor’s booth. I tried to conjure the cobbled walkways, the ferris wheel, the lanterns strung up in rows overhead. And when I opened my eyes, it was sunset and we were there.

“An amusement park?” she asked, chuckling. “And…wait, is this in Sangdo-dong?” she asked.

I nodded. “You know it?”

She stared, mystified and wide-eyed, at the park splayed out before her. “Um…yeah, actually. I think I mentioned it before, but…something kind of scary happened to me when I was young. It was pretty nearby here.”

I stiffened. “Shit, I can take us somewhere else-,”

She turned to me and smiled, shaking her head. “Don’t,” she said. “I wanna go on some rides.”

I blinked down at her, at the big sleep shirt with shorts just barely peeking out, at the bed hair, at the flush in her cheeks. And I felt myself flush too. I cleared my throat and began strolling toward one of the coasters.

“Do, uh…do you think the rides will work?” I asked.

She hummed. “I dunno. You’ve never tried?”

I shook my head. “I…also had something scary happen when I was a kid. Here at the amusement park. So I haven’t been back.”

“Oh,” she said, pausing in the walkway. “We can go someplace else.”

I smiled and rubbed circles into her hand. “No, it’s fine. It’s just…the only amusement park I could remember. And I remember it pretty vividly.”

She nodded. “Alright.”

“Here, let’s go on this one,” I said, pointing to the swinging pirate ship.

Her eyes glittered in the sunset as she stared at it. “Whoa,” she said, glancing around. “Who’s gonna operate it?”

I paused a moment and pursed my lips. “You sit down first and I’ll push a button or something.”

“Push a button?” she repeated, laughing.

I rolled my eyes and gave her shoulder a shove with mine. “Maybe two buttons,” I said, shrugging. I released her hand she gestured for her to go ahead onto the ride.

She waved at me over her shoulder and took a seat at the farthest row, the one right by the back of the ship. She bounced a little as she waited for me, smiling in my direction as I examined the control panel. Perhaps because I’d never seen it, I couldn’t quite imagine what it would look like and in its place was just a blank metal podium.

I sighed and rubbed my chin. “I mean…,” I began, talking to myself, “if it’s a dream, I can make the rules, right?”

I shut my eyes and imagined a big red button on the podium, one that would give the start a delay so I could take my seat with Eunbyul. As I opened my eyes, there it was and with a smile I pounded it. Told you, I thought, just one button. I heard the machine whirring up and sprinted as fast as I could toward the entrance of the ship. I bumped my shin on the way down the aisle and Eunbyul suppressed a laugh with her hand. Luckily, just as the thing lurched to life, I fell into the spot beside her with a heavy sigh.

“You ready?” I asked, smiling.

She laughed and nodded. “Been ready.”

I rolled my eyes as the ride began to swing like a pendulum, gradually increasing in speed and height. Soon, we were rocking back and forth, sent high into the air and then hovering, weightless, for a fraction of a second before plummeting back down to earth. Beside me, Eunbyul released a joyful scream, throwing her arms in the air as we swung up and down, back and forth. The wind whipped her hair around, and on each descent she had to squeeze her eyes nearly shut. She laughed as we swung and swung. If she’d let me, I’d liked to have kept sitting there forever, watching her smile and laugh as the pirate ship lurched.

But my brain seemed to know approximately how long a ride should be, and before too long, the ride slowed to a steady stop. Eunbyul, with her hair now windswept and waving and her eyes alight, turned to me with the brightest smile.

“That was so fun,” she said, laughing.

It was the first time I’d seen her with such unbridled happiness, an easy joy in her features. And she was beautiful. I wanted her to stay that way, stay smiling, stay messy, stay joyful.

I smiled. “What next?” I asked.

The two of us traveled through what I remembered of the park. It had been a long time since I’d seen the place, but it seemed the memory was nearly imprinted. After all, it was the last place I’d seen with Dad. I ambled easily by Eunbyul’s side as she explored my memories, and we stopped at nearly every ride. The log ride, the coaster that nearly blew out my eardrums, the haunted house sans actors to play the ghosts.

“Let’s go on that,” she said, pointing at the ferris wheel as it sat juxtaposed against the forever sunset.

I raised my brows. “Oh, sure.”

She turned to me and smiled. “Hey, Namjoon?” she asked, almost shy.

“Hm?”

“Thank you for…you know, taking me here,” she said, laughing lightly. “Lately, I’ve been feeling a little better and I think it’s because I’ve been able to spend time with you.”

“Eunbyul-,”

“Ugh, let’s go before I get sentimental,” she said, waving her hands with a pinched expression. I laughed as she led the way to the ferris wheel.

Once I’d pressed the identical red button and scrambled to join Eunbyul in the closed ferris wheel box, the two of us fell into a comfortable, easy silence. She gazed out the window as the blurry horizon that my mind couldn’t conjure, the place where all the colors blended together. And I watched her, silhouetted against the violent yellow sun as it descended into reds and oranges.

“So…,” I began, watching her keenly. “How do you know that pottery guy?”

She paused for a moment before pursing her lips and offering a shrug. “I met him recently. I was spying on him through the window.”

“Spying?”

She nodded. “Because it looks so nice when he throws pottery.”

I smiled softly. “It was really mesmerizing.”

She turned to me with a smile. “He’s a nice guy,” she said. “I think he believes in me too much.”

I shook my head. “I saw you working today, Eunbyul. You were…really competent. It was like watching Jimin make pottery. I couldn’t look away.”

Her skin went a little red in the cheeks and she cleared her throat, smoothing her palms over her kneecaps. “Well…”

“You’re better than you think you are.”

She sighed, letting her gaze fall. “Anyway, how do you know him?” she asked, letting my eyes again.

I smiled. “My friend Hoseok took me by today. He was trying to…embolden me, I guess. Get me back into my groove.”

“Your groove has been off?” she asked, brows raised.

I nodded. “For a while. I’m…stifled. In a lot of ways.”

She nodded. “And did it help? Seeing Jimin?”

I smiled softly, remembering that song. “Yeah. I…I made a song. For myself. Something I believe in.”

She smiled at me and reached out across the small space between our legs to pat my knee. “Namjoon! That’s amazing,” she said, chuckling. “That Jimin. He’s good, I’ll give him that.” She paused and glanced at me. “Let me hear the song sometime, okay? When we finally meet in real life.”

I swallowed hard and rubbed my neck. Nervous as I was for her to hear it, the offer was irresistible. I nodded. “And…just Joon is fine.”

She stared at me, blinking, before she chuckles breathily and nodded. “Ah! O-Okay. Then, uh…call me Byul, okay?”

“Byul…”

She went red and cleared her throat, laughing again. “God, it’s embarrassing to hear you say it,” she said.

I smiled. “Do a lot of people call you that?”

“No,” she said softly, watching her hands as the ferris wheel rolled lazily toward the top.

“Does that bookstore guy call you Byul?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

She stiffened. “Who?” she asked, then snapped her fingers. “Ah, Jin?”

I shrugged, pouting. “I dunno. The guy who was flirting with you at the bookstore.”

She laughed. “He wasn’t flirting, just…bored,” she said with a nod. “God, I guess…I guess I have a crush on him?” she said, but the way she furrowed her brow made it seem like she was unsure. “But these days, it feels a little different. Like…maybe I don’t.”

I smiled, just a little relieved, and nodded. “I feel the same way with my ex.” Eunbyul’s eyes snapped up to meet mine, wide and brown. “Um…she called tonight. Hani.”

She inhaled as if to speak, but only let it go and nodded. “Oh.”

“I told her she can’t come over anymore.”

I watched her expression change, like she was relieved too, and she exhaled slow. “Good job,” she said, meeting my eyes again with a smile. “That must have been hard.”

I shook my head. “It’s like you said. Like…the way I feel about her is different now. Even in real life.”

“Wonder why,” she said idly as she glanced out the window at the empty park below.

I felt my heart thundering in my chest and swallowed hard. Say it, Namjoon, I thought. Say it now or regret not saying it forever. “I can…think of a few reasons,” I said slowly, watching her for any sign to stop.

She stiffened a little and turned to me with wide eyes. “Huh?” she asked. Surprised, but not disgusted.

Slowly, I leaned across the small space between us so that our faces were close. “Byul, I…,” I began, chuckling as the nerves made my words catch in my throat. “Sorry, nervous,” I said, unable to stop myself from telling her the truth.

She nodded and gently took my hand. “It’s okay,” she said.

I took a steadying breath and met her warm, dark eyes. “I think I have feelings for you.”

She was still for a moment, still holding my hand, before slowly she let her eyes drop and her fingers slipped between mine. It was small, but the gesture felt intimate. And the space between us was charged, trapped in this small ferris wheel box. I knew it was stupid, that there was no way it could work. I knew it would be nearly impossible to meet her in real life if I couldn’t remember these dreams, and I knew that even meeting, even seeing her properly, might not be enough to make me remember. I knew it all. I knew it was stupid, and that this moment was finite and that in the morning I’d forget it ever happened.

But right then, I needed to kiss her.

And so I tipped my chin just enough for our lips to touch. It wasn’t the sort of kiss you see in movies. Passionate and frantic and desperate, hands clawing at each other, panting. No, it was…softer. Gentler. She jumped a little at the contact, but I watched with half-open eyes as she shut her own eyes and leaned into me, her fingers still laced in mine. Tenderly, I lifted a hand to rest along the line of her jaw, touching her just barely. I felt her tilt her head to the side and took the initiative to deepen the kiss, just enough. Smooth and slow, like butter melting in a pot. Smooth and slow.

I pulled away first, hand still holding her jaw, her hair fluttering against my knuckles, and stared at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “Sorry,” I said in a whisper. Everything felt hot, so hot I thought I might pass out if it weren’t a dream.

She shook her head and tightened her grip on my hand. “Don’t apologize.”

“I know it’s really impossible, but…,” I began, but stopped as I felt the pull once more in my chest. “Fuck,” I breathed, resting my forehead against hers.

“I know,” she said with a nod, shutting her eyes with a shaky exhale. “We…we’ll meet. We have to meet, okay?” she said.

I nodded against her forehead and shut my own eyes. Even though I knew it might be a lie, nonetheless I responded sincerely. “We will.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“You’re right.”

She nodded and sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Joon.”

“See you tomorrow, Byul.”

And in an instant, she slipped away.

[hypmicwritingbutbad]

What if back when TDD was still together each member took turns babysitting Ichiro and Samatoki's siblings? Also tysm for that bb vacation headcanon asdlkasdfnasdlf;kasdf >

Heya! I’m really glad you like the BB vacation headcanons aaaaa they were real refreshing to write!

NOTE: Since this is TDD era, ages here go roughly as such: Ichiro (15), Jiro (13), Saburo (10), Samatoki (21), Samatoki’s sister (10-12), Jakurai (31), Ramuda (20)

Ichiro

Samatoki would likely go to him first if he had to get his sister a babysitter

Mostly because of their senior-junior relationship, and also cause he knows Ichiro has two younger brothers (with the youngest being round his sister’s age too)

When he drops his sister off, he’d glare at Ichiro with the deadliest eyes and warn him of the dire consequences if anything happens to her (rip ichiro)

Ichiro would initially be very cautious and overly-antsy around imoutoki

But he’d definitely warm up to her quickly once he sees how nervous she is around him and his brothers too

Saburo and Jiro would watch enviously from the background as Ichiro’d play dolls with her

They wouldn’t approach her until Ichiro calls them over

But they’d refuse to interact with her, so Ichiro would just continue to play with her as the two of them huddled together

Eventually, they’d cave in from the pressure— partly cause their beloved Ichinii isn’t paying them any attention, partly cause they feel bad that they’re excluding this shy little girl, partly also cause the games just look so fun

And so the three Yamada Bros would just play game after game after game: house (imoutoki being the mom, saburo being the dad, ichiro the grandmother and jiro ~unwillingly~ being the baby), hide and seek (with ichiro hiding in the most obvious places on purpose), dolls (feat a highly dramatised re-enactment of a typical scene from a soap opera)

Once they’ve tired out Jiro, Saburo and imoutoki would fall asleep huddled together while Ichiro cleans up their now-disheveled apartment: his back sore and aching, his voice hoarse from all the over-enthusiastic yelling but with a huge smile on his face nonetheless

And eventually when Samatoki arrives up to pick his sister up, his heart melts a little when he sees the rosy flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes

“I haven’t seen her have this much fun in years. Maybe it’ll do her some good to hang with your bros sometime again in the future… I’ll give you credit for this one, kid— but don’t get too cocky, ya hear me!?”

Samatoki

Ichiro would have always told Jiro and Saburo good things about his delinquent-senpai-idol Samatoki

…but when they actually see him in person for the first time it’d be safe to say that they’d be terrified

Samatoki’s apartment would likely be small and messy, so the two of them would sit awkwardly on the edge of the sofa

Huddled together, with Saburo clinging onto Jiro for dear life (and surprisingly, Jiro doesn’t mind too much— or perhaps he’s just too scared to notice)

Samatoki would sit cross-legged opposite them, silent and glaring

With imoutoki between the two parties, shuffling awkwardly in her seat

And this continues for what seems like hours until imoutoki pulls at Samatoki’s shirt and says “lunchtime”

So Samatoki brings all the kids to the kitchen where he seats them at their small dining table and starts cooking

He’d start off by frying chicken skewers, then mixing sauces to make a light teriyaki glaze. While that’s cooking he’d begin chopping carrots, leeks and onions with surprising speed and precision into little flowers

all while imoutoki hums happily as she waits for another one of her big bro’s feasts, all while saburo and jiro watch with their mouths hanging open because who knew Samatoki could cook??

He’d leave the onigiri for last and when he does, he calls all the kids to help him with it

So they spend ages shaping the rice into different shapes, laughing as sticky rice gets all over their hands and face and clothes

When Ichiro comes to pick them up, they’re only starting to eat (because it took hours to get the rice off the floor and each other) so he joins them as well

And Samatoki sends them home with enough leftovers to last them a few days

Ramuda

     Imoutoki

When Samatoki asks TDD if anyone’s free to babysit his sister, Ramuda’s hand would be the first to shoot up to volunteer

On the day itself, Ramuda would greet her with a huge hug and she’d be startled

Because this man is around her oniichan’s age, yet he’s only a few inches taller than her??

Ramuda would have a whole assortment of activities planned in advance because he’d have been looking forward to this day ever since he heard Samatoki had a little sister

He’d spend hours doing her hair, sewing her new clothes, even pampering her with light makeovers fitting of a girl her age

Letting her dress up and feel pretty for once– an opportunity she’s always wanted but never asked for because she knows Samatoki tries his best already and doesn’t want to trouble him any further

All the while he’d chat to her like an old friend: asking her about school, what pop idol she’s into, which type of sweet tastes best with which kind of tea

And at the end of the day, Samatoki would nearly drop dead when he comes to pick his sister up and sees her all dolled up

He’d probably cry a little thinking that she’s growing up too fast

     Saburo and Jiro

Ramuda would seize the opportunity to babysit Jiro and Saburo, claiming that he’s always wanted little brothers 

But they’d have heard things about the infamous Ramuda and his clingy ways from Ichiro, so they’d formulate plans to evade him as much as possible 

Jiro would likely be rushing around Ramuda’s apartment trying to escape from his clutches of frill and satin, Saburo would hide away in the most obscure of places (and finding Ramuda’s secret stash of lollipops) and Ramuda would eventually collapse onto his sofa, uncharacteristically exhausted 

He’d lie there, seemingly asleep, for a long time 

Until Jiro and Saburo, out of both curiosity and guilt, are baited out to check and see if he’s alright 

…He’d then jump out, tackling them both to the ground and tickling them to no end as they shriek and struggle 

This match would continue for hours on end until they collapse into a sweaty, laughing pile on the fluffy pink carpet in Ramuda’s living room 

….Ichiro would come to pick them up, find them fast asleep in the same spot and end up putting Ramuda to bed too before carrying his sleeping brothers all the way back home 

Jakurai

     Imoutoki

Jakurai’s house is likely filled with all sorts of medical reports and supplies unsuitable for kids to play in, so he’d take her out instead

Most likely to the aquarium, where there’s much to be learned 

(Sensei is single and thus knows little about raising kids but he’s all about teaching them new things, like healthy foods to eat or how not to get cavities idk)

Imoutoki would be amazed by all the different types of fish drifting about like seven-colour-flags, the 

And if she had trouble seeing due to the crowds, Jakurai would lift her up on his shoulders to give her the best view of all 

Though he has to be careful to make sure she doesn’t bump her head on the ceiling

Halfway they’d be stopped by a few middle-aged aunties who’d tell him, “Oh my, what a cute daughter you have!”  and “It’s so nice to see a father spending time with his child on a quiet weekend like this.” 

He’d try to correct them first, but after seeing the bashful look in imoutoki’s eyes and remembering the Aohitsugi family situation, he’d simply smile and say “Yes, I’m very aware of that.” 

When Jakurai drops her back home at the end of the day and she’s waving goodbye, she’d tell Samatoki to “Say bye-bye to Father too”, which would confuse him greatly 

     Saburo and Jiro

Jakurai would go over to the Yamada bros’ apartment to watch over them for Ichiro

Jiro and Saburo would likely be very wary of this giant of a man at first due to his long hair, towering figure and stern-looking face 

He’d see them hovering in the distance, like cats on edge

But the moment he smiles at them in that gentle fashion of his, they’d instantly warm up to him 

Having Jakurai smile at you would be like having an angel’s face shine down upon you… anyone’d be at ease lmao

The boys would spend the rest of the day showing Jakurai around 

Jiro would be eager to bring him outside and show him all his ‘treasures’ and ‘landmarks’: the rock in the backyard where they buried their pet goldfish, the secret spot to the north of the entrance where the ladybugs thrive, even the hidden nest of bush warblers on the fourth branch of the highest tree 

Saburo would be more hesitant, but he’d shyly approach Jakurai with a thick book and quietly mumble something along the lines of “I’d like you to read this to me… please.” 

Of course it’d surprise Jakurai to see a 10 year-old with a book with the title “1001 Lessons in Social Psychology” , but Ichiro DID tell him that his youngest brother was a prodigy

Near the end, Jakurai would bring out a cooler box of Super Cup ice cream he prepared in advance as a secret treat

But Jiro and Saburo’d insist on saving their portions for Ichinii as well 

By the time Ichiro comes home, the ice cream is melted and Jakurai looks apologetic, but he eats it nonetheless 

[caffeineivore]

More Travel Ficscribble

I wrote this for @smokingbomber during my travels. We actually spoke on the phone during my layover in Newark which was fun. It is set in a ficverse also written about for the @ssrevminibang and related to the last thing I wrote for her. Features Mamoru, and A/Z. 

**

The request had seemed innocuous enough. Could some hard-working and intelligent Harvard Pre-meds access the lab after-hours, while he was in the building no less, to finish up on some work? They would not be in the building alone, and really, who would jeopardize their standings and astronomical tuition payment to get up to anything untoward. There wasn’t anything of value that would invite theft-- this was a chemistry lab, not a computer lab-- and besides, most of them had more than a decent chunk of disposable income. Who in their right minds would invite a criminal charge and college expulsion so early in their lives? So Matt had agreed, and not thought too much about it until two weeks later when it was his turn in the rotation to prep the lab for one of the organic chemistry professors the next day.

In a container labeled “Acetone” is some dusky off-white substance that looks nothing like the universal solvent.

Matt isn’t stupid: he has no idea what, precisely, the unknown substance is. However, it is almost certainly a Class-A controlled substance of the variety which can cause irreversible health damage to its users and lengthy prison time for its procurers. He also knows that it will fall on him for letting the kids in after-hours, and he has all of twenty-four hours to deal with the situation. He also, also knows that he is woefully out of his depths. It’s a sticky situation, to say the least. Lots of unpleasant possible outcomes, all of which jeopardize his own future, and not a great number of people whom he could simultaneously trust to help him deal with the situation AND not give him admittedly well-deserved shit for being a naive, soft-brained idiot with too much faith in the decency of humanity. As a matter of fact, only one person comes to mind at all.

“Hey, Alice. I sort of need your help.”

Alice Marshall is in his graduating class for medical school, though she’s about a year younger. A Bona Fide Genius even by lofty Ivy League standards, she’d been his lab partner since Organic Chemistry, Honours Section, in their freshman year of undergrad at Yale, then both had went on to Harvard for medical school after graduating. She’s a scholarship kid from somewhere in BFE, soft-spoken and calm and diligent, who’d grown up comfortably well-off but definitely not in the bubble of moneyed New England privilege like Matt or Una. Outside of their classes, she mostly keeps to herself, and Matt has very little idea of what she likes to do outside of their shared world of lectures and labs and practicals. She’s unflappable, though. Not to mention discreet and non-judgmental, and when he calls, answers in her usual pleasant way.

“No problem. What is it that you need?”

Alice, to Matt’s eternal relief, shows up promptly, and doesn’t scold after Matt tells her the bare bones of the problem which had befallen him. She does raise her eyebrows, however, and remain quiet for a good fifteen minutes as she mulls over, in all likelihood, the same set of unpleasant options that Matt has already contemplated. Finally, she sighs.

“You’ve got yourself in a rough spot, that’s for sure.”

“I know, and I’m a moron. I guess if there’s nothing that can be done about this situation, I’m just going to have to suck it up. I don’t think they can actually arrest me, considering that I knew nothing, right?”

“Let me just... make a quick phone call. I know someone who may be able to help, if I can convince them.”

She steps into the other room, and talks too quietly for Matt to hear, but returns after only a few minutes to give him a wan smile.

“Well, I found help. If anyone can get you out of this predicament, he can. So you’re in luck. He’s on his way.”

The mysterious friend of Alice’s turns up a few hours later. He’s a good-looking young man with sandy blond hair that’s a bit too long, and sharp, piercing green eyes, an arrogant smile on his lips. He barely spares Matt a glance, and heads straight for Alice, taking both her hands in his and kissing her forehead in a way that all but broadcasts his intentions towards her. It’s only after this salutation that he turns towards Matt. 

“So you must be the latest stray. Alice, sweetheart, wherever do you find these people? Put it back, it might have rabies.”

“Be nice, Stephen. He’s a good guy. Matt, meet Stephen Zimmerman, once upon a time of Harvard Law. Stephen, meet Matthew Clark, my lab partner from undergrad.”

“Ah. So YOU are Matt Clark. Small world, isn’t it? I recently accepted a job offer at the firm which employs your brother-in-law, I believe.” Stephen Zimmerman links fingers with Alice. “I’m going to state for the record that I’m only doing this to please Alice. I doubt even you could afford my rates. No offense.”

“None taken.” Zimmerman was, perhaps, every stereotype of a cocky, hotshot lawyer come to life, down to the silk pocket-square in his perfectly pressed suit which perfectly matched his tie, but for all that, there’s something sort of comforting about his blunt, somewhat condescending manner. This is not someone who’d play mind games with him, or mince any words. Zimmerman, like Alice, was the type of smart so confident and comfortable with his abilities that he’d never feel the need to loudly show off just to prove a point. In the weirdest way, that made Matt feel better.

“He’d never get up to anything illegal, Stephen. That much I can reassure you.” Alice, bless her peace-loving heart, vouches for him, but Zimmerman simply smirks.

“That’s not important. No one cares about that. It’s all about how likely others can be made to believe it, or failint that, figuring out how to make this all just quietly go away.”

Matt watches with not a little awe as Zimmerman-- definitely not on friendly enough terms with him to be on a first name basis-- and Alice get to work. The latter calls a friend, who calls another friend connected to the forensic science division of the local law enforcement agency, and somehow all without asking any questions, the network of people send over a field test kit for narcotics. After ascertaining the contents of the “Acetone” container-- some clumsily and potentially dangerously synthesized MDMA, Alice proceeds to help him scour the lab down with a fine toothed comb, locating and destroying any other remnants. Meanwhile, Zimmerman gets the names of the students in question from Matt and holes himself up in a computer lab with a legal pad, a laptop with an external hard drive, and a collection of pens-- black, blue and red. He curtly tells Matt to leave him alone when the latter attempts to help, or at the very least figure out what the plan is, and is still in there with the door locked at some indecent hour of night after Matt goes off to bed.

The next morning, bright-ass early, campus police descent upon a frat house wherein resides two of the students, armed with a warrant as well as apparent evidence of them on a bank ATM CCTV dispensing their ill-produced haul. It had been called in by some little old lady whom Matt had never met or heard of, whose apartment apparently overlooked that street. Any record of Matt’s involvement in helping the troublemakers access facilities or ingredients are nowhere to be found. It’s possibly the most efficient, ruthless and cold-blooded sting that Matt had ever seen outside of some far-fetched police procedural on TV. He has no idea exactly how Zimmerman pulled it off, but figures that it’s best if he doesn’t know.

“Crisis averted.” The brilliant and possibly evil mastermind who had orchestrated this entire chain of events finally reappears, ghost-like, looking not at all worse for wear after pulling an intense all-nighter putting God knows how many plays in motion. Zimmerman smirks at Matt, then inspects his nails. “I do fantastic work, if I may say so myself.”

“I can’t thank you two enough.” Matt gives the other man a weary smile. “Kent’s firm is in good hands if you’re their in-house counsel.”

“Of course. Mind, as I said, I did this as a favour to Alice. She says that you have a few redeeming qualities, this unfortunate episode notwithstanding. As a matter of fact, I ran a background check on you before I came.” At Matt’s look of surprise, Zimmerman simply gives an expansive shrug. “Know thy enemy. Or thy client. It’s not smart to go into these things without all the facts. I will admit, your academic record is commendable, especially for a bastion of privileged wealth such as yourself. How you manage to be so smart while still being such a naive lost child, however, I haven’t the foggiest idea.”

“I guess I didn’t count on anyone being so reckless, or having such a callous disregard for others who may be harmed as a consequence of their actions. Either way, thank you. Alice is lucky to have you.”

Zimmerman’s eyes warm, and it transforms his face into something almost approachable as opposed to haughty and calculating. “Maybe I’ll convince her of that one of these days. Our Alice is an incredibly independent, strong-willed woman.”

“She didn’t call anyone else to help straighten up this mess, wich speaks to her trust in you.” This was more even ground for them. A man in love, after all, recognized a fellow man in love with automatic, unconditional sympathy. “She’s a very nice girl. Probably would enjoy being appreciated, being courted. Please be good to her.” The last bit is spoken aloud before Matt can think better of it, but Zimmerman takes no offense.

“As if I could be anything but. Don’t get yourself involved in any more idiotic situations. Just remember: people are, with only a few exceptions, greedy, selfish, inconsiderate and stupid little buggers. Don’t ever expect them to do the right, or smart, or sensible thing.”

With that little bit of sage advice, Zimmerman seeks out Alice and prepares to take his leave. Matt watches as he bends his head to whisper something, dark blond curls brushing over Alice’s blue-black locks. Whatever he says has her blushing, and glancing up at him almost timidly. Zimmerman cups her face in his hands, presses his mouth to hers in a tentative sort of way, then when she doesn’t draw away, pulls her close and kisses her for real. Alice is still blushing well after he walks away.

Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “So, umm, thank you both.”

“I did very little, really. I’m not nearly as good with this sort of thing as Stephen is. I’m glad it all worked out, however. You worried me.” Alice gives him a brief, sideways glance. “I think perhaps you place too much stock in people’s good intentions.”

“You two even sound alike.” Matt gives her a long look. “Clearly, your respect for each other is mutual. Do I need to ask him, in most likely a comically incompetent way, what his intentions are?”

“I don’t think he’d take that very well, actually.” Alice says it with a smile, though. “Just stay out of trouble. I think he’s going to have his hands full, dealing with that firm.”

Matt thought, briefly, about calling Kent to warn him, then decided against it. The bastard had the nerve to hit him over a strictly honourable relationship with Una, after all. It’d be karmic justice to see him subjected to the whims and caprices of Scary Lawyer Man.

Not that Kent would do anything stupid or reprehensible to draw the man’s ire, of course. Kent was far too smart and honest for that sort of thing, career as a Wall Street shark notwithstanding.

Probably. He hoped, anyway.

Ehh... who was he kidding? Wasn’t it his whole overly optimistic worldview what got him in trouble to begin with?