#ch: this kid is a genius

[muniimyg]

7.5: the perilla leaf 》 series m.list

note: nah cos why did u guys blow up 6.5??? jus cos it was nasty sex ????? WAS THE MIRROR SEX CH NOT AS HOT ???? 😭 jus kidding … hello to my new readers !! hello to my day 1s !!! i’m so glad u’re here <3 enj this ch as we are near the end … i know i took a hot minute... but now u guys will know WHY. pls lmk ur thots ,, i am in desperate need of validation cos i’m losing motivation 😀✊🏽 mwah ,, wuv u all ,, until next time !

warnings: this ch is lengthy !!! i'm too lazy to do a word count... anyways,, miscommunication (jk & mina, mina & oc, eunwoo & jk & oc, etc etc), rejection (take a wild guess 😛) and jealousy ((take an even wilder guess)) angst & implied smut (((pls do not be like jk,, he’s such a douche in this ch))) oc has mean girl vibes... etc etc👨‍🍳✨

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “c2u” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar

fic taglist: @mint--yoongs @bloopkook @suciedad-divina @xelenavazquezx @kyjjk @parkinglot-nights @skzthinker @thisisaburnphone @rrjkive @hyuneyeon @chemicalclub @bbtsficrecs @ronyiboniyy @italiekim

//

When Yuna meets you, she's wearing Taehyung’s jersey. 

You keep your mouth shut about it, hoping if you don’t bring up her situationship with Taehyung—she won’t bring up yours with Jungkook. 

It’s simple girl logic. Something you’ve always loved about Yuna is that even though she is the nosiest human to ever exist—she knows her boundaries when it comes to you. With that, you’ve always felt safe with her. Eventually, you’ll tell her everything. Besides, what fun is being in a situationship when your loving friends come in with their thoughts and concerns? Evidentially bringing the truth to light and ending your delusion? 

No fun! 

Speaking of delusion…

“Oh my god,” Yuna gasps as she makes an effort to block your view. You huff at her, annoyed at how childish she’s acting. She waves her arms frantically, trying to keep you focused on the other side of the bleachers. Isn’t that ridiculous? For someone trying to get you to avoid looking a specific way, she draws all the attention to it.  “Babes, whatever you do, don’t look—___, seriously? Stop! Please, you’re just going to—”

In disbelief, you grumble; “why is Mina wearing Jungkook’s jersey?”

Your own words make you want to throw up. 

What the actual fuck. 

She’s standing a few feet away from the soccer team with her friends. The towels in their hands—at this point should be pompoms—make them look so… Entitled? You don’t even know half of the girls she’s standing with. Yet, you hate them. 

You despise them and the way they look so perfect. 

They’re all wearing a team member’s jersey… Mina just so happens to have Jungkook’s on. It makes you wonder… Did he give that to her? Did they meet after you two fucked? Did he really mean it when he said, “quickie?”

Did he mean anything he said to you at the party? Not that he was making promises... It's just irritating because you almost believed him. 

Believed in being his girl.

... Whatever that means.

His words were sweet but the way he looked into your eyes was his entire tell. They were sweeter. He had a softness in his gaze. It looked genuine—you swear it was. 

“I think the jerseys are from last season… Look!” Yuna tugs the fabric of the jersey sleeve to you and begins to point details out. “See? This is Taehyung’s from this season. It’s made of thinner material and even the colour is lighter! Mina’s is—”

You turn the other cheek, not bothering to entertain the rest of this conversation. What was the use? You’d only hurt yourself with all the overthinking and cause drama between you and Jungkook. Besides, you have faith in him. He knows how you feel when it comes to Mina… He wouldn’t push it, right? And if anything… You can’t seem to think of a reason why he would be upset with you right now. 

The quickie was just a quickie.

Not much to say. He was normal—until he left. Jungkook had left without saying goodbye and it made you feel a little weird. Not even a text? Not even a heads-up? Not even a kiss? Odd of him. 

Again, it’s nothing worth starting a fight. 

… And besides, when were you guys the type to fight over things like this? You two aren’t dating. Communication—in this sense—is it really necessary? 

“Shit,” Yuna nudges you. “She’s waving at us. Wave back so she doesn’t know we’re talking shit—”

“We’re not talking shit,” you hiss. “Who even cares?”

“Okay, jealous era!” Her words earn an eye roll from you. Quickly, you give in and flash Mina a faint smile and wave your hands at her. She giggles and returns to chatting with her friends. 

“Remind me again… Why did I come?” you groan as you take a seat. Ignoring you, Yuna sits down beside you and takes her phone out. You peek over and see that she’s texting Taehyung good luck. “Do you go to all their games?”

“I try to.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Yuna snorts. “Taehyung likes the support.”

You bite your tongue. 

Should you even ask? It’s probably safer to assume, right?

“Do you like Taehyung?” Your words come out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. Afraid of her reaction, you brace yourself for her defensiveness. Instead, her lips curve into a smirk.

“Do you like Jungkook?”

Stupid question. 

Just when Yuna thinks you’re about to react to her question, the crowd begins to cheer. You two turn your attention to the field where your Uni’s team and the opposing team all come out and shake each other’s hands. Then, they run a small lap around the bleachers and briefly greet everyone. 

You watch Jungkook in silence. You don’t cheer his name or even wave. It doesn’t matter though. He sees you. 

When he does, he playfully squints his eyes and tilts his chin up. With both of his hands, he makes the OK hand gesture and brings the circle parts to his eyes. Then, he flips one. 

69. 

Your eyes widen. As you throw your head back to laugh, out of instinct, you give him the middle finger. He chuckles and returns your gesture by blowing you a kiss.

Mina watches as he blows his kiss towards you.

Her cheers go quiet. For a split second, you two make eye contact. She smiles at you shyly. You gulp and turn your attention back to the field. Shortly, the game begins. As the crowd cheers, she finds her mood again. Meanwhile, your attention goes back and forth to Mina, cheering on the sidelines, and Jungkook, playing like losing isn’t an option.

For some reason, you feel a little bad. She’s so supportive and cute (you hate to admit it)… And he’s… Well, why does it matter what he is? All you know is that he isn’t hers. 

Yet, he isn’t yours either.  

Jungkook scores the final goal. 

Of course, he does. 

As the crowd goes wild, you can’t help but join in. His teammates run to him, engulfing him like the ace he is. Jungkook pokes his head out and looks at the crowd. When his eyes land on you, you offer him and smile and a thumbs up. He sticks his tongue out at you before he returns to his victorious team. 

Shortly after, Yuna guides you down to the field the minute your area clears. As she does this, you can’t help but feel a little nervous. What were you going to say to him? Even if you had already seen and spent time with him today, right now feels a lot different. 

The way to the field isn’t that long of a walk. Suddenly, you’re standing across from him. He’s saying his last few goodbyes to his teammates and hanging back with Taehyung. Yuna sprints to Taehyung, happily congratulating him and teasing his soccer moves. You watch in awe as the two bond and laugh together. Walking to Jungkook, you keep your head high. 

He would be happy you showed up, right? You didn’t text him that you were coming… But this is a good surprise! At least, you hope it is. He mentioned not telling you about the game because he didn’t feel like begging you to come. Well, here you are. No begging and no sour attitude. You’re here for him. 

It’s all shits and giggles until Mina beats you to him.

He’s only a few steps away from you, but in an instant—he feels so far away. You pause, wondering if you should continue to walk to him. It doesn’t matter if he was watching or waiting for you to come to him; you can leave right now. You could turn around and just wait by the bleachers. Or… You could just go home.

Perhaps there’s a look in your eye that gives your thoughts away or maybe, your friends just know you too well. 

Yuna catches you backing away. She glares at you and side-eyes the direction towards Jungkook. In response, you shake your head with a polite smile—a smile that is trying to mask the fact that you kind of want to rip Mina’s cute head off. 

Polite. 

Just as you’re about to turn away, you feel someone grab onto your forearm. Looking up, you realize it’s Eunwoo. 

“When we were dating, I almost always begged you to come to these games,” Eunwoo complains, grinning ear to ear. “Funny seeing you here.”

Eunwoo isn’t on the team.

He doesn’t even play soccer, really. Basketball is more of his thing. In all fairness, he loves sports and a lot of his friends are on the soccer team. When you two were dating, you were almost never together on Friday nights because of these stupid games. He’d beg for you to come with him and you’d reject and promise him your Saturday night. 

“You aren’t even on the team,” you laugh, earning an embarrassed grin from him. “What’s the point of going to a game if your boyfriend isn’t on the team?”

He tilts his head. Suddenly, your words sink in. Did you really just say that?

“I came with Yuna!” you attempt to save yourself. “She always comes to these things… For Taehyung or something.. I—I just thought I’d c-check it out.”

Eunwoo gives you a funny look.

You aren’t sure if he bought your excuse but you’ll pretend like he did just to salvage any dignity you have left. Everything feels so embarrassing right now. Nothing is going your way and you just feel so out of place. 

Is it overstimulation?

You came all this way to see one person—why are there so many other people?

“Are you here to see Jungkook?” Eunwoo asks bluntly. “You know… Since he’s on the team.”

Eyes widened, you shake your head profusely. “Ew! W-what? No! Who said that? I’m here because my friends are on the team and—”

“You’re a bad liar,” he interrupts you. “Always have been. You should stick with being honest.”

You huff at him. Out of everyone here, he’s probably your safest option when it comes to admitting the truth. In a way—in your way—you give in.

“He’s talking to Mina.”

“Oh,” Eunwoo turns his head, seeing for himself what all your fuss is about. When he takes it all in, he turns back to you with a shrug. “She’s cute.”

“She is cute… You should date her.”

Eunwoo rolls his eyes before engulfing you in a bear hug. He ruffles your hair, knowing you hate it when he does this. You groan and shove him away from you. As you compose yourself, he sighs. 

“Yah, ___,” Eunwoo lifts his finger and points at you. With a serious tone, he warns you: “Don’t be so obvious with your jealousy. It hurts my feelings that you never acted this jealous when it came to me.”

You smile at him sweetly. “That’s because you’re a well-trained dog.”

“Ouch!” Eunwoo laughs, pretending you hurt his heart. “Yes, it’s true. What can I say? Any day being your bitch is a good day to be a dog… That’s why I’m still begging for you back even though I broke up with you.”

With a whiney tone, you say, “oh, shut up.” 

“Still a no to the whole getting-back-together-with-me thing?” he winks, sightly kidding and slightly not. You cross your arms and shake your head at him. He attempts one last time. “Awh, come on! We can even fake date just to get a reaction out of Jungkook… I have no problem betraying friendship for love.”

“Oh my god, shut up!”

This time, you roll your eyes at him and tell him he’s being ridiculous. You remind him that his little drunken confession at the party was close to meaningless. He knew from the very start that you’re the type to move on when things end. Good or bad, you never look back. You’ve lived your life this way for so long—you can’t recall whether it brought you more luck or pain. 

Eunwoo doesn’t care for your little speech. Instead, he laughs and continues to push your buttons.

“Wow, you must love Jungkook at this point. You know, you can just say that, right? You loveeee—“

You lunge yourself to him, attempting to playfully put him in a chokehold. He’s a lot taller than you so you struggle. Honesty, it’s cute and he can’t resist you. Eunwoo laughs and bends his knees, pretending to struggle as you seek revenge. He gives in, letting you have your way.

Meanwhile, Jungkook can’t concentrate on his conversation with Mina.

The big smile on his face faded as he watched you turn away when you were only a few steps away from him. How could you do such a thing? You walking towards him made him so happy. It was a sight he had been daydreaming of for the past few days. Though he saw you just hours before, he didn’t expect to see you at the game. 

He thought you didn’t care. 

Yet, there you were. 

Shit, how does he even begin to explain how it felt to see you there? How annoying it was when you threw your head back to laugh, and his heart raced like never before? He was obsessed with you. Every little thing you do—he was your number one fan. 

Except for moments like these. 

Where you hesitate as you walk towards him. Where you get distracted and forget about him just because your ex showed up.

Where you give up. 

“... And so, I guess… What I’m trying to ask is if you’d want to grab dinner with me and my friends? And then maybe we could do something after that… Alone? Like just the two of us?” Mina’s voice cuts in, interrupting Jungkook’s thoughts of you. “We could watch a movie at my place? My roommate went home for the weekend so we’d have the place to ourselves.”

He stares blankly, trying his best to process everything Mina is blabbing about. 

“Ohh… Thanks for the offer! You know the team and I usually celebrate with dinner together, right? ” Jungkook says it happily as if he isn’t rejecting her. “Next time?”

Idiot, Jungkook thinks to himself.

No next time. No this time. No nothing.

Why does he do this? Why does he always push things back for Mina when he doesn’t even want to reschedule? He doesn’t want to reject her… But he does.

Within seconds, the disappointment in Mina’s eyes fades when she comes up with a solution. Her eyes light up, believing in the compromise she’s about to pitch. “Then maybe I could join you guys? Taehyung and Yuna already know me and—”

“But it’s a team thing.”

Mina’s eyebrows furrow. Slightly offended, she pushes the conversation. “Oh… But Eunwoo goes. Yuna does too. She isn’t on the team—she’s just dating Taehyung.”

“No, she isn’t,” Jungkook laughs, finding the assumption cute. “At least, not yet.”

It’s not that funny, though. Mina doesn’t laugh and the silence between the two is heavy. Her facial expression drops, indicating her mood shifts to something less enthusiastic.

Annoyance?

Desperation?

Hurt.

“___ isn’t on the team. She isn’t dating you… But she’ll be there, right?” Mina chokes her words out as if she’s accepting her defeat. Saying this is a wildcard, but she plays it anyway. “Or what I mean to say is that she’s not dating you… Not yet. Haha.”

Jungkook opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. It’s dry and it’s… Nothing. No words, no thoughts.

He can’t think of a defense and he isn’t even really sure what he’s supposed to say. In his lifetime, he has gotten more than a handful of confessions… But for some reason, this one feels painful.

Pitiful.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Jungkook breathes. He scratches the back of his neck and looks at Mina shyly. “I really appreciate the support—I really do. It’s just… I never wanted yours.”

Mina stares at him blankly.

“Okay, I get that… But… This is what you do when you like someone. You do thoughtful things they never ask for. You sit through their practices even if it’s pouring rain or hot as fuck. You wash your towels with their favourite laundry detergent because they mentioned they're sensitive to strong scents—no, actually… I think you drive them home and ignore the other girl who sits with his friends and waits for him… Right? You blow her kisses from across the field instead of the girl that helped set up for the game.”

Jungkook’s heart drops. 

“Mina—”

“I waited for you and you never came. You didn’t even text me. Do you know how that feels? To wait for someone and they don’t even—god, I like you so much I made myself look sooo stupid.” Mina groans in frustration. She puts her hands to her face, taking a breath in before continuing to get things off her chest.

“I should’ve left. Instead, I stayed and checked my phone every two minutes in case you texted. Then, I thought, okay… At least I can try to bond with your friends. But you know what? All they could talk about was you and ___. I sat there, listening and nodding like an idiot.”

Fuck.

Jungkook wants to sympathize with her, but can’t find the words or the strength to reach out. As he hesitates, Mina gathers her final thoughts and makes her last few moves. Abruptly, she shoves the towel in her hands to Jungkook’s chest. 

“She didn’t even know you joined the team again after quitting. She has never gone to a game until today. She doesn’t even chant your name or cheer when you score a goal. She’s over there, flirting with her ex-boyfriend while you’re here rejecting me.” Mina fumes. “Is that who you’re going to pick over me? If so, fine. Nice choice, Jungkook. I wish you the best. Thanks for wasting my time.”

“You chose to be here. Look at yourself. Why are you even wearing that?” Jungkook points at the jersey she has on. Mina tightens her lips, suddenly feeling ridiculous. She pushes past him but pauses when Jungkook mumbles the words, “You led yourself on.”

Sharply, Mina raises her voice. “She doesn’t even want you.”

Ouch. 

Mina’s words hit Jungkook right in the heart. Right in the spot where his insecurities and overthinking take place—the words strike him. 

They hurt him.

They kill him.

“Don’t speak for her,” he warns, gaze lowered and stern. “She may not have cheered as loud as you during the game, but who fucking cares when she was chanting my name the other night… Or was it before the game today? I can’t remember. Fucked around too much to remember.”

Mina darts Jungkook a glare. “You’re an insensitive asshole. Do you know that?”

Jungkook huffs, beginning to feel frustrated. “Your feelings are yours, my feelings are mine. So, you don’t get to say shit about ___ to me—not about the way she treats me or her choices. I’m a grown man, Mina. I can figure it out when I need to pull out and how much shit I can take.”

“Mind giving me a few lessons, then?” she asks, eyes beginning to tear up. “I think I put up with yours for a minute too long.”

Everything becomes difficult in that exact second. There’s so much empathy Jungkook wants to express, but can not. He should not. He needs to pull away now or else he would be doing exactly what she’s accusing him of doing—leading her on. 

“I’m sorry, Mina,” Jungkook apologizes softly, truly feeling stuck. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Mina sighs, eyes watery from the tears that threaten to fall. “You’re a grown man, Jungkook. You can figure it out when you need to pull out and how much shit you can take.” 

Jungkook lowers his head, feeling bad for his harsh words. A part of him hates how this interaction went down. He could’ve been kinder. He should’ve been kinder. At the same time, it feels like this is all worth it. There’s no better way to end things than just to cut everything off. 

Still, he attempts one last time. 

“Mina,” Jungkook raises his face and looks at her in the eyes. “Look, I was as honest as I could be. I didn’t know I would like her so much. I didn’t know I’d feel this way about her at all… It just happened. I don’t mean to be an asshole. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I’m so sorry. With my whole heart, I am so fucking sorry."

Mina gulps, a little taken aback by his words. There’s a relief in her heart when Jungkook expresses his feelings to her. At least, there was clarity.

At least, he was honest.

At least, it ends like this. 

She balls her fists and raises them. Waving them in the air, slowly and cutely, she smiles at Jungkook one last time.

Softly, she cheers, “go, Jungkook. Go.”

In the past, the friendgroup seating arrangement was a no-brainer. The order always went: other friends, you, Yuna, Taehyung, and then Jungkook. This was the blueprint. 

Tonight, it’s different.

It earns a few confused looks, but nothing major. No one thinks twice about it. Maybe that’s because they didn’t catch the small moment in between—the one where Jungkook tugged on the hem of your crewneck and you complied. Taking a seat beside him, he keeps his hands near yours.

Though the restaurant is packed and busy, sitting beside Jungkook feels slow. 

Was this even possible? For time to feel like it slows down when you’re beside him? It’s like every gesture he makes, every word that comes out of his mouth, and every stolen glance at you feels mindlessly slow. Yet, your heart races beside him. Even then, you can’t deny how gentle he is. 

How every fingertip brush he makes is intentional. How he eventually hooks his pinky onto yours. How he inches closer and closer to you. Each time, you look away and pretend you don’t notice it. You do. You really do. 

It feels strange.

Back at the field, it felt like he didn’t pay attention to you. Was it because of whatever he and Mina had discussed moments before? He didn’t talk about it when he joined you and Eunwoo. Instead, he kindly greeted you two and excused himself to quickly shower at the locker room before heading out to dinner. You and Eunwoo agreed to wait for him. 

So, you can’t put your finger on it.

He was acting strange, but it wasn’t like anyone else was saying anything about it. A part of you wonders if it’s all in your head. Even though he had acknowledged your presence and excused himself politely—it felt like he was distant. 

It hurt your feelings. 

Why is he acting so weird? The possibilities you make in your head feel limited. The entire way here, you kept replaying moments between you two recently. What could have gone wrong? What could you have done wrong? What about him changed his mind about you? These thoughts flooded your mind so much that you didn’t even realize that he tugged on your crewneck for you to sit down beside him. 

Now, here you are. 

Mind racing with anxious thoughts, sitting beside the man who is the cause.

Your mind is telling you one thing, but his actions are proving otherwise. You don’t know which to believe and it makes you unsure of what to do. Everything is muffled and you can barely make out the small talk happening around you. The only thing clearer than your confused feelings are Jungkook’s gentle touches.

… That is until Yuna and Eunwoo begin to argue. 

“Don’t you usually sit beside her?”

Yuna dismisses him. “Who cares?”

“I do,” Eunwoo protests. “If anyone is going to steal your seat, it’s going to be me!”

“No! You can’t. You can sit beside Taehyung—”

Eunwoo crosses his arms at her. “I thought you liked me. Am I no longer your favourite?”

His words trigger Yuna’s shoulders to drop. She bites her tongue and side eyes Jungkook. Jungkook catches her look and simply clears his throat. Then, he nudges you. 

“Let Yuna sit beside you.” Jungkook’s tone is serious yet casual. You tilt your head at him and give him a weird look. 

“Why does it matter?” you press. In all honesty, you aren't sure of what answer to expect. You're just poking the bear just because you can.

“I’m sitting beside you,” Jungkook points out. “It only makes sense that Yuna sits on your other side. Your favourite people in the world, you know?”

Unfazed, you shake your head. “Be honest… Do you not want Eunwoo to sit beside me?”

“I’m sitting beside you. Focus on that.”

You huff. “It’s yes or no, Jungkook.”

“Or.”

He answers without a lighthearted tone. Without a smile. Without the intention of miscommunicating what he wants. You can’t help but pity him. It’s obvious he’s a little sensitive right now and considering how he left things with you earlier—maybe you should be kinder. Maybe you should cater to him tonight. 

But… At the same time… 

Jungkook is being difficult, so maybe you should run the same play. 

Okay, fine. 

Since the ball is in your court, you shoot your shot. 

“Eunwoo,” you say sweetly, “sit beside me. Yuna can sit beside Taehyung.”

Taehyung, who is sitting across from you, gulps. He instantly feels like he’s caught in the middle. Between trying to please every request Yuna throws at him to catering to his friends—when would this agony end? When could he finally have peace and not get poop anxiety from all this drama?

“But ___—”

You hush your best friend. Yuna pouts and glares at Eunwoo. Truth be told, she doesn’t care if she’s the one sitting beside you or not—she just didn’t want it to be Eunwoo. For Jungkook’s sake; she wanted it to be him. But by the looks of it, Jungkook is in a mood and you’re way too in your head tonight. Ultimately, she accepts her defeat and slumps beside Taehyung. 

Taehyung tries to cheer her up by pointing at her favourite foods. It works. She instantly smiles and sits up with pep. He lets out a breath of relief and shares a look with Jungkook. A, that-was-a-close-one kind that makes Jungkook laugh. You watch as he laughs and can’t help but feel your annoyance begin to fade. 

Okay… It’s confirmed. He’s in a weird mood tonight, but he’s still Jungkook. 

He is still your Jungkook. 

As Eunwoo settles beside you, he strikes up a conversation with the other teammates around him. On your left, you just hear Eunwoo talking your ear off. On your right, Jungkook goes on his phone and goes quiet. Only every so often would he chuckle or make a side comments. 

It’s then that you realize you hate where you’re sitting. 

So, you do the only logical thing you can. 

Flirt with him.

Slowly, you place your hand on Jungkook’s thigh. You lean forward, pressing some weight on him. He puts his phone down and looks up at you. Cutely, you smile at him and take your hands off his lap. 

Patting his head, you softly tell him; “Jungkook, you played well.”

You run your fingers through his damp hair and look into his eyes. You bat your eyelashes a few times, attempting to act cute. Deep inside, you hope this works. You hope you win him over. 

You do.

Right then and there, all his plans go out the window. He will never get used to this. He loves hearing praises from your lips. In complete trance of how you say it, what you say, and why you say it—everything. He craves for you to be obsessed with him the way he is with you. 

So, fuck it.

He could pause his sulky attitude for you. 

Anything for you. 

Jungkook’s lips curve into a half smile. “Don’t be cute.”

“Why?” you pout. “Is it working?”

“Are you trying to entice me?” He chuckles before leaning close to you and lowering his voice. “It’s working, I’ll admit that… But it’s kind of shameless of you to be trying so hard right now. Our friends are here, ___… Don’t start shit you can’t finish, pookie.”

Playfully, you hit his shoulder. “I always finish.”

“Is that so?”

You look at him as innocent as possible. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

Jungkook goes dizzy.

As he’s about to make a shameless remark, the waiter squeezes himself in between you two and places water down for the table. Everyone thanks him and reaches for a cup. Jungkook hands you one and you drink it. 

“Thirsty as always,” he shakes his head at you fondly. 

Then, he takes a sip of his water. By complete accident, some water spills and gets the corner of his mouth and a bit of his chin wet. You laugh, put down your cup, and tug on your sleeves. Without much thought, you move closer to him and use your sleeves to dry him. 

“You always spill your drink,” you nag. “Are you a child?”

He stays still, not wanting you to move away. “No.”

You taunt him. “Baby.” 

“Who the fuck is baby?” Jungkook mimics. 

Lowering your gaze, you send him a warning look. He laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. As you finish cleaning him up, you sneak in a final comment. “Yah, a lot of girls would break up with you if you do this shit on a first date… Such an ick. Imagine going out with a guy that needs a sippy cup.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at how extensive you’re stretching this out. “It’s charming. I make it charming. My girlfriend would just have to get over it. It’s that simple.”

“Sure,” you agree with a sarcastic tone. “As if I can ever get over it.”

At this point, Jungkook is going to lose track of how many times you’ve made his heart skip a beat. This is completely unfair. How do you say shit like that so easily and captivate him without even knowing? Should he say something about it? 

As he opens his mouth to speak, he loses his chance. 

“___, Jungkook,” Eunwoo chimes in, “Since this is ___’s first time eating with the team… Should we just order our usual?”

Jungkook nods, agreeing with the suggestion. You do the same and state you feel indifferent. Eunwoo then goes on and on about the food. He tells you about the dishes he thinks you’ll like and which ones you should avoid due to your preferences. All the shit he says are things Jungkook has noticed about you before—it just annoys the hell out of him that Eunwoo is telling you all this shit like he’s still your boyfriend. 

He isn’t. 

So, he should shut the fuck up, right?

Jungkook’s thoughts are put on pause when his phone vibrates. He looks at the notification and reads:

Yuna [8:07PM]: stop making that face

Yuna [8:07PM]: idk if u're jealous or need to shit

Jungkook [8:08PM]: lol but like did u see her flirting w me 😌🤘

Yuna [8:08PM]: yes. do u want a medal or smt?

Jungkook [8:09PM]: she wants me fr 🦄💕

Yuna [8:11PM]: is that why she nd eunwoo look like they're abt to kiss?? 😳

Instantly, Jungkook looks up from his phone and turns to you. You're just laughing and talking with Eunwoo. No kissing in sight.

Yuna [8:11PM]: made u look 🤣

Jungkook [8:13PM]: not funny.

Yuna's laughter fills the room. You turn to her, breaking away from your conversation with Eunwoo.

"What's so funny?" you ask.

She shrugs with a smug smile on her face. Pointing at him, she teases, "Jungkook's in a mood."

You look at Jungkook and see him roll his eyes. He sinks into his seat and mutters a few inaudible words. From the looks of it, you can almost swear that his eyes were a little teary. Was he about to cry or something?

"You okay?" you ask him softly. Your concern grows as he lifts his face and looks at you. He looks tired. Exhausted even. "Do you wanna talk?"

Jungkook feels a sense of relief.

You care.

Thank god you care.

In response, he squeezes your thigh. “I’m good,” he promises. “You okay?”

You nod, leaning in. “More than.”

It happens so fast. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you were barely an inch away from his lips. He even dipped his head—and then you caught yourself.

Holy shit, were you just about to kiss him? In front of everyone? When did this become second nature? You want to believe that only you caught yourself… But it’s too late. Jungkook was bracing himself. 

He knew what you were about to do. He was giving in too.

As you break away, his heart breaks a little. Laughing awkwardly, you turn back to Eunwoo and continue your conversation with him. At this point, he isn’t sure if he’s just hangry or purely annoyed with everything and everyone. He feels so alone. He hates that you’re right beside him too. 

He’s so fucking over this. 

When the food arrives, the spread is breathtaking. Maybe it’s because everyone is hungry as fuck and the game was a huge success, but the mood suddenly lightens. The smell of meat being grilled and the sound of the side dishes being passed around was music to everyone’s ears. 

As Jungkook grills the meat, he places the first one ready on your plate. He continues to pile your plate. With lingering eyes, Taehyung groans out in frustration. 

“Yah!” He cries, “that’s unfair. You can’t possibly give ___ all that meat! Give me some!”

Yuna hits him playfully and tells him to let Jungkook be. She reaches over to the other grill and places meat on his plate. Taehyung huffs, and sinks into his seat. 

“Jungkook used to put meat on my plate first.” Taehyung continues to whine.

You all hear him but choose to ignore his words. You aren’t even sure how you’re supposed to act with this. Jungkook was always sweet to you. He has always looked out for you. He has been a gentleman… Now that you’re paying attention to him—you can’t help but feel so infatuated. 

You're drawn to him.

“Do you even eat that much meat?” Eunwoo teases, as he reaches over your plate and picks a piece of meat off. He shoves it in his mouth and you laugh at him. His cheeks are all puffy from the food he stuffed in. 

“No, but that doesn’t mean you can steal it off my plate,” you mutter. “You’re such a thief.”

“I stole your heart once upon a time,” he reminds you. “I’ll be the thief if you’re the cop.”

You cringe at him. “Thank god you broke up with me.”

“You used to love my lines!” Eunwoo jokes, suddenly ruffing your hair like how he did at the field. You shove his hand away and groan at him. 

Jungkook witnesses it all.

The entire time, he feels like he’s being tortured. Sure, you’re allowed to have other guy friends. Sure, you’re allowed to have exes… So why was this bothering him so much? Eunwoo is a good guy too! He’s his friend and it’s not like Jungkook has dibs. If we’re being realistic—Eunwoo had you first. 

Cue Jungkook’s insecurities. 

Do they know how long it took for Jungkook to get to where he is with you right now? How long he had to wait just for him to be able to hook your pinkies together under a table? How long it took for you to sit down beside him without arguing? How long it took for you to accept his presence? How long it took him to get you to act cute?

Too long.

And here Eunwoo is—a mere ex-boyfriend—getting your banters and treating you like you’re still his. 

It makes Jungkook sick to his stomach. He’s losing his appetite by the second.

His thoughts are put on pause when Eunwoo proclaims: “___, look! Our favourite… Perilla leaves!”

Jungkook’s eyes bulge. 

You smile at Eunwoo and practically celebrate with him. As he picks one up with his chopsticks, another sticks to it. As you pick up your chopsticks, you take the other side and peel the perilla leaf apart. Together, you and Eunwoo giggle and wrap the perilla leaf with some meat. Suddenly, he brings his wrapped perilla leaf to your mouth. Happily, you eat what he offered.

“Good bite, baby.” Eunwoo praises you.

With a mouth full, you childishly hit him and scold him for not taking a bite himself. Eunwoo listens and picks up another perilla leaf. You two repeat to peel them a part and—

Jungkook wants to kill himself.

Oh god, he wants to rip Eunwoo’s head off. 

To make matters worse, Yuna attempts to be of rescue.

"Eunwoo," she gasps. "Aren't you being a little too shameless?"

Eunwoo shrugs as he prepares another bite for you. "Yuna, just because there's a goalie doesn't mean I can't score."

That does it. Something inside Jungkook snaps. He wants to be so mad at you—no, he is so mad at you.

How could you do this to him? How could you let Eunwoo say such things?

Don’t you know what this all means? Falling in love. Marriage. Children. A whole fucking nuclear future with someone that wasn’t him. It’s fucking insane you’d let Eunwoo go this far… And right in front of Jungkook? Were you serious? Do you hate him this much?

In a hurry, Jungkook takes his phone and opens his iMessage. He taps on your name— which is easy because it’s pinned—and sends you a text. 

Then, he puts his phone down and begins to shove food into his mouth. He stays quiet and glares at the meat as if the meat did him wrong too. He can’t even begin to express how he feels—it’s just all over the place. He is all over the place.

When his text is sent, your phone vibrates. You glance at Jungkook, a little confused as you see that he sent you a text. Sliding your phone open, you tap on his message.

mfker [8:32PM]: video attachment

Curiously, you tap on the video. As it loads, you turn down your phone volume just in case it was too loud. When the volume icon goes away, your screen reveals a familiar zooming in shot of Jungkook's face. He rolls his eyes and you hear yourself laugh. Suddenly, the angle switches to you holding the camera out at arms length.

You see the corner of your face. Your boobs. Your ass. His abs. His smirk. Him. Naked.

Your hands fly to your mouth, stopping yourself from gasping out-loud.

The sex tape.

Your sex tape with him.

In a split second, you shut your phone and turn it over. Wide-eyed, you push yourself away from the table and make the effort to excuse yourself. Everyone acknowledges your announcement but for Jungkook. He doesn’t even look up.

As you get up, you turn to him. You utter under your breath, “meet me outside. We need to talk.”

The minute Jungkook slams his car door shut, you get right to the point. 

“What the fuck was that?”

Jungkook settles into his seat, unafraid of your anger. He was unashamed. What he did was reckless, yes, but it was no mistake. 

With a nonchalant tone, he answers you. “What? The video? You told me to send it to you.”

Groaning, you bring your hands to your face. “Not during dinner! Not when our friends are sitting beside us! That was fucking embarrassing. Are you trying to humiliate me? That shit is private. It's us intimate. What kind of game are you playing—”

“I’m not playing any fucking game,” Jungkook controls his rage. “Why are you so embarrassed? Because it’s me fucking you in that video and not Eunwoo?”

Your eyes widen at his words. 

You want to scream. Instead, with a calm and slow tone, you confront him. “So… That’s what this is about?” 

Jungkook sighs heavily, clearly fed up with this conversation already. He doesn’t answer you. Instead, he reaches over and opens his glove compartment. As he rummages through, you huff at his avoidance. When he finds what he needs, he aggressively shuts the compartment closed. You watch as he brings his device to his lips. Inhaling, he takes a hit of his vape. 

You glare at him.

“Can you do that on your own time? I’m trying to talk to you.”

He turns to you and blows a puff at you. 

“Jungkook,” you warn him, “stop it.”

In response, he shrugs and takes a final hit. 

“I didn’t even know you vape,” you say quietly. “Aren’t you supposed to take care of your body and shit? As an athlete?”

He chuckles at the label. Athlete. Sure, that’s what he was… But he was also on a break for a good amount of time. He was also human. 

“I’m just stressed,” he admits. “You make me stressed.”

You laugh and take the opportunity to grab the vape from his hands. Without much thought, you open your door and toss it out. He rolls his eyes and just as he’s about to open his car door to retrieve it—you catch his wrist. 

“Can you focus on me?” 

As much as he hates to admit it, your words will always win him over. Even though he hesitates, he surrenders. Jungkook settles himself into his seat again and puts his hands on the wheel. Bowing his head, he shuts his eyes and takes a moment. 

Silence fills the car as you two try to figure out which direction this conversation should go. So far, not so good. 

You attempt once again. This time, you go from a different angle. 

“Why did you leave me earlier today? I know you were busy but… You didn’t even say goodbye.” In all honesty, you hate it when you say shit like this. You feel so weak and like you could let out a sob in between words. Not to mention the fact that you’re rarely in this position. This was new. You have never fought for anyone the way you fight for Jungkook.

“I had a game.”

Jungkook’s concise answer irks you. Was he fucking serious? Could he try even just a little bit?

“I know you had a game.. At least, I found out through Mina’s Instagram post… Which… I mean, you didn’t even bother telling me you had a game. Yuna goes to those—I can too.”

No.

That’s not even what you really mean to say. What you mean to say is: I want to go to your games. I want you to want me to be there. I want you to care if I’m there or not. I want to be the one wearing your fucking jersey. 

Jungkook responds plainly, “I told you… I didn’t feel like begging for you to come.”

“You don’t have to beg,” you pitch. “I would have—”

“You would have what?” he sneers. “Would you have come then? Without me asking? Without me telling you? Or did you come out of spite? Like, the fact that Mina was around me and you weren’t… Is that what brought you to me today?” 

Hilarious.

Wow, what a dick.

“No,” you object. “I came because you came over for a quickie and then left. Without a word. Without a kiss. It was unlike you. I wanted to talk about it but you’re acting like this and I can’t—I don’t understand what’s going on. Jungkook, what’s going on?”

At this point, you're practically desperate. You reach for his hands. Eyes searching for his, he shakes your grip off his hands the second you intertwine them. You furrow your eyebrows, completely confused and shocked at his rejection. Wasn’t this what he wanted?

“I hate you.”

Suddenly, your throat feels dry. In an attempt to calm your mind, you search for his hands again. For the second time, he pushes yours away. Then, you brace yourself. What he says next could ultimately be the end… Right? This is where everything is headed. 

The end. 

Then, he says the oddest thing. 

“I hate perilla leaves.”

You tilt your head at him. “What?”

“Are you going to marry him?”

You blink.

“Who?”

“Eunwoo.”

For a moment, you wonder if he’s joking. Was he actually serious? Your question is answered as Jungkook lifts his head and looks at you with a sad expression. It takes you by surprise. Come to think of it—you’ve never seen him upset. At least, not like this. Not sad. Not defeated.

“You’re mad at me… Because of a perilla leaf?”

Your loss for words. Unexplainable. Unbelievable.

He looks at you with despair. “Do you not get it? ___, the next thing to happen after you peel perilla leaves with someone is holding hands with them. Then, you fall in love. Marriage. Babies. What about me? What happens to me, huh? What happens to us? You don't even hold my hand.”

You’re dumbfounded. 

“Jungkook, you can’t be serious…”

“He patted your head. Are you a fucking dog?”

Sharply, you mention, “I patted your head too.”

It doesn’t matter. He looks at you dead in the eyes. “Eunwoo is supposed to be your ex-boyfriend, not your fiancé.”

You almost gag. “He’s not my fiancé—”

“You peeled the perilla—no. You let him feed you. Fuck you for that.”

Frustrated, you curse. “Holy shit, do you hear yourself?” 

He doesn't utter another word. Instead, he stays quiet. Then, when you open your mouth to speak, he beats you to it.

“I hate Eunwoo.”

A beat.

“I hate Mina.”

Just as expected, Jungkook provokes you. 

“What the hell does Mina have to do with this—”

“Everything!” you express rather triggered. "Look, I don't know what you expect from me. I’m not going to go to your fucking practices with a towel in my hand ready to wipe your precious golden sweat. I’m not Mina—”

Jungkook cuts you off only to repeat his question. “What the hell does you not being Mina have to do with all of this? How does that justify the perilla leaf?”

At this point, you feel like you're losing your mind. Childishly, you chant: “Fuck the perilla leaf. The issue is that you're all about her. Mina this, Mina that! You’re so fucking annoying with her—”

Jungkook snaps. “Are you this insecure?”

“Fuck that,” you grumble. “She was wearing your jersey today. How do you think that made me feel?”

He glares at you. “You’re fucking insane if you think I rather see her wear my jersey over you.”

“Why’d she have it on then?” you interrogate. “Are you fucking her too?”

Line: crossed.

There's madness in Jungkook's eyes. His chest burns in slow anger and feels like he's overheating from everything you've said and done thus far. He's tired.. He feels like he's losing.

Fuck it.

One last fight.

One last try.

“Are you fucking serious?” Jungkook slows down his words, trying his best not to raise his voice. It’s so fucking hard. He’s so irritated by your attitude and your fucking delusion. “___, I acted like a total douche to Mina today so she’d leave me alone. I feel horrible already, but I also feel relieved. So, stop it. You don’t have to hate her. You shouldn’t hate her. You don’t need to make these fucking assumptions because that’s just out of line.”

Like fire, your own anger consumes you. “Are you defending her?”

“There’s nothing to defend,” he insists, voice beginning to tremble. “Holy shit, I was such a douche to her already so you can chill.”

You glare at him. “I am chill.”

Lies.

“You gave me a blowjob that one time so I wouldn’t make it to my dinner plans with her,” he comments. “That was a pretty bitch move.”

Out of reflex, your mouth drops a little. You can not believe it. Did he really bring that up? “Excuse me?”

Jungkook blinks at you. “It was a bitch move. I didn’t mind, though. Why? Because it felt like you wanted me. Every time you make me feel that way—I can’t let that shit go.”

“So what? Do you want me to say thank you?” you spit. “Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t care if you—”

“You never asked for it, I get that,” Jungkook interrupts you. He takes a minute. Suddenly, he recalls his moment with Mina at the field and feels his heart break a little. So... This is what it feels like to be on the receiving end. “What I’m saying is that I stopped entertaining her because I—well, I thought it would ease your heart. You overthink so fucking much, I'm beginning to run out of solutions. Do you even know how much I hate your jokes? The ones about me talking to other girls? I hate them. I only talk to you. I only think of you. Only you.” 

Your heart drops. 

“I never asked for any of that.” 

Something is wrong.

All your words are wrong. Everything you want to say is not coming out of your mouth. What you mean to say to him is; oh my god. You didn’t have to do that for me, but I feel so seen and heard that you did. 

Jealousy has always been a funny thing. Never has it been triggered the way it is when it comes to you and Jungkook. Though some may argue this to be toxic, it is simply the truth about relationships. Jealousy is a healthy emotion as long as it is expressed and validated moderately. It’s so hard to be upset with Jungkook when his confessions are so wholesome. He did a kind thing for you. He did it to bring you peace. Here you are, acting ungrateful because you can’t fathom the way he cares for you.

Jungkook huffs. “___, that’s exactly it. You never need to ask when it comes to me. Whatever you want, I give. I fold. Tenfold. That’s the fucking cycle we’re in and I’m beginning to get sick of it.” 

A silence falls upon you two. All you hear are the raindrops from the sky begin to splat on his window. For a moment, you get so lost in your thoughts, that your head begins to hurt. After a few more moments of silence, you realize it isn't your head.

It's your heart.

It feels like a knife has been stabbed into it—his and yours. All at once, it just aches. You both feel it. Your hearts grow tired and fragile.

Truly, it's ironic how the gentle silence is ruined by such brutal words. It's then when the knife, that was stabbed into both of your hearts, twists.

"What do we do now?"

"I think we need a break."

[4theluvofsapphos]

Butterfingers - Ch. 2

Melissa Schemmenti x Futch Mechanic!Reader

A/N: no beta, but this is a shorter chappy but it's filler for big things i promise!!!! let me know how u like this one :3 enjoi!!!!

warnings: nada

chapter 1 here

tags: @10gay-keysmash01

Wandering through the halls of the school, you took your time– meandering about from machine to machine, checking stock. Nothing seemed to be amiss aside from a minor repair on the primary hallway vending machine. The thing seemed to have a busted display panel, so users wouldn’t know what they were picking, fate deciding whether or not their corn nuts would be barbeque or ranch. 

As you unscrewed the punch pad’s panel, you thought about your giant duffel bag carrying a cartel-sized amount of snacks for the teacher’s lounge. 

A small chuckle escaped your lips at the thought, something amused you about the idea of a bunch of adults wanting candy and Cheetos. In a way, you found it wholesome. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it, you thought. It made sense, they were around kids all the time– and kids had some of the best snacking inventory out of all of humanity. 

The sound of a familiar voice ripped you from your thoughts,”Hey new guy! What tech-centric genius IT thing are ya doin’ over there?” 

Janine jogged over to you, (miraculously) out of breath in the four hurried steps she had just taken. Your eyes glimmered with the question. 

You were always something of a teacher. Loving to teach, and more than that, loving to see people learn new things. There was something so satisfying about seeing the gears turn, before clicking things into place and watching a machine whir to life just as it should. 

“Oh! It’s nothing too serious, actually. The LCD here seems to be busted, so it’s just a matter of getting a replacement part and plugging these little wires back in right here.” You gestured to the small 5 pin wires needed to connect the screen to the rest of the vending machine. 

Janine nodded, clearly not entirely there. She seemed to be looking around for something, and her eyes lit up as soon as she (assumedly) found that thing…or person, rather.

You didn’t mind the dismissal from Janine– you knew your interests were boring to most, or just too complex for people to care about much. Rifling through your repair bag, you opened a large plastic container with multiple small compartments. Various pin wires, replacement nuts and bolts, and most importantly, a small handful of packaged LCD screens sat in the different compartments. 

Taking one out of its plastic, you stuck the container back in your bag, before looking over to Janine, only to see that she was waving down the fiery headed teacher from the day before. She was approaching rather quickly, alarmingly so, actually– how on Earth did a woman so petite move so damn fast?!

Brushing aside your unnerved feelings for the mach one woman racing towards you, you turned back to the pin holders still sticking out of the machine, connecting the red and blue wires, before going to connect the black and yellow ones. 

“What is it, Janine?” The woman grunted, seemingly annoyed she had to detour. “I’m boutta’ to be late for class, and so are you, kid. Whaddya even doin’ over here– oh.” 

The older woman’s gaze went from the beaming young teacher, to your face, before darting away. 

“Yeah uh. Hey.” She muttered, shifting uncomfortably from one heel onto the other. Something in you crumbled at her reaction to your presence. Did she really not like you? Maybe it was just because it was early morning…that’s what you told yourself to calm your rising anxieties. 

Smiling in response, you let out a little hum in greeting, before turning back to your work. 

Melissa clutched her jacket tighter around herself. You noticed she used it like her shield. Something hardened and tough to protect her, maybe? You didn’t have time to speculate– Janine hopped up, patting you on the shoulder and jogging off to class. 

“See you, y/n! Glad to see you’re settling nicely!” Janine yelled as she rounded a corner, disappearing.

“Oh- uhm! Bye!” You called after, turning to the machine, before looking over at Melissa, who stood there– seeming to hover, as if waiting for something. 

You looked up into those prying green eyes, lips pursing tight as you thought of what to say. 

Looking down to your duffel of snacks, you suddenly realized what she was likely waiting for. Grabbing the grey bag with one hand, you lifted the bag while standing up. Melissa followed your gaze, having to crane her neck to see your eyes. 

“Sorry about that, I totally thought you were waiting to talk to me– you probably want this, right?” You asked sheepishly, opening a compartment in the duffel, and handing her a small Butterfingers. The bright yellow packaging gleamed in the fluorescent light of the halls. 

Melissa’s brows knitted, an unreadable expression crossing her features before she smiled small. 

“Oh...thanks, hon.” She sighed, seeming almost disappointed. You cracked a smile at this, knowing she would’ve wanted more than just the one piece of candy. 

“I’m messing with you, red. I have this for you.” With a swift motion, you grabbed a quart sized Ziploc bag full of the glimmering yellow and blue candy. 

The redhead’s eyes bugged out to the size of dinner plates at your grand display. 

“Holy fuckin’-- damn it, you really didn’t hafta do all this! When I said some, I meant a few. Do you know what a few looks like?” 

Your features lit up with a nearly face splitting grin,”Several, right? Which is more than two, but not many, but many is a lot, and this is only a quart size. So by definition, you could say this is a few, isn’t it?” 

Melissa’s eyes rolled so hard they almost fell right out of her head, a smile threatening to spill onto her features. 

She gave a small laugh, and the sound had you grinning even harder, somehow. You presented the bag to her with two hands, the duffel half open on one arm, your tool belt on your other arm, and your repair bag hanging off of your wrist. You looked absolutely insane, but something about that fact seemed to endear Melissa.

She carefully took the bag, cheeks puffing out with how surprisingly hefty the bag was. “In any case, you’re absolutely insane n’ I think you’re crazy for this.” She chuckled halfheartedly, her features hardening to a level of genuine sincerity. “Thank ya, though…really. No one’s ever really done…this for me. Get me my favorite candy n’ what not. So. Yeah. Thanks..”

Before you could say anything back, Melissa turned on her heel and sped off (at that alarmingly fast speedwalk). You let a small puff of air out of your nose, something like a laugh. But you’d never laugh at Melissa Schemmenti. She wasn’t someone to be laughed at. Turning back to the LCD you’d been fixing, you plugged in the remaining connectors, before screwing the panel back on and plugging the machine back in. 

As expected, the screen flickered to life. You nodded to yourself, before standing up and heading to the teacher’s lounge. 

–

Melissa settled into her classroom while the kids went about writing their daily plans and writing prompt for the morning. Looking at the bag sitting in her lower left drawer, she noticed something sticking out of the mound of Butterfingers she’d recently come into possession of. Opening the bag, she grabbed the slip of paper, unfolding it carefully. 

Hey Red,

Hope you don’t hate me for my clumsy introduction. Found these fresh from the factory for you. 

Enjoy!

y/n

Melissa’s lips parted, before she quickly crumpled the note and tossed it into the trash. She couldn’t do this, not again. 

Not another repairman, not another relationship.

But if you were a woman, did that make it different?

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lv - uncle yuyu

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

For some reason, Yeonjun felt compelled to sort trash out that day. He had been staring at the bags that his kitchen staff would bring out for 20 minutes straight before deciding he couldn't stand the damn thing any longer.

It wasn't like the task was fun or it had benefits. Heck, he had to recycle and risk meeting a recycling nut who would attack him for not crushing his cans first. So his plan was to just get the bags there, throw it out and return ASAP.

But one thing caught his eye when he turned around to walk back to his cafe. He noticed a very familiar boy looking around the park with furrowed eyebrows and he noticed people looking at him, probably as confused as the little boy was, maybe even concerned because it didn't seem like he was there with someone and that was concerning.

"Hey, bud," Yeonjun called out after jogging towards Kijoong who turned around at the sound of a familiar voice. Though it seemed like Kijoong recognized him, he didn't make a move to approach Yeonjun. Heck, he took a couple of steps back and made it seem like he was ready to run away. "It's me, uncle Yeonjun! I know your nanny (y/n) and your uncle Woowoo!" He said, desperately hoping the boy won't run because if he ran and he chased him down, that could seem like a humongous problem.

Thankfully Kijoong nodded, "You're the uncle from the cafe," he stated though seemingly shying away from Yeonjun's kind gaze slightly. Yeonjun was glad to hear that Kijoong remembered him but there more pressing matters he needed to prioritize. "That's right! So... What are you doing here alone? Is your daddy nearby?" Kijoong immediately shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows, "No, I want (y/n) and daddy don't know where (y/n) is," he said, obviously hating the fact that his dad didn't seem like he was going to round up a search party to look for you. Though Yeonjun couldn't help but notice that Kijoong was so keen on looking for you, he knew he had to get the boy back to his dad. "So, your dad's not around here, huh?" Kijoong shook his head at Yeonjun's question, "So where is he?" "Daddy's cutting people with his friends," and boy did Kijoong said that with much confidence because some people heard and couldn't help but stop in their tracks and stare at the innocent toddler and a panicked adult who immediately look around and waved his hands frantically, "It's not what it sounds like, folks. His dad is a neurosurgeon, a very good one at that."

It wouldn't take a genius to realze that the kid had ran away from wherever he was supposed to be and whoever he was with, but knowing that it would be hard to ask Kijoong about where he was and who he was with, Yeonjun decided to just cut the middle man and call up his friend.

"What's up cutie pie?" Wooyoung snickered, not looking into the camera though Yeonjun had face-timed him. "Yeah I kind of have a problem and you're the only one who could help me," Yeonjun said, shifting his eyes between his phone and Kijoong who was looking around as if disinterested or worse, trying to find a means to escape. Yeonjun's words made Wooyoung roll his eyes, "For the last time, I am not dressing up like a cupcake and handing out flyers. You're roommates with Jongho, ask him," he scoffed which made Yeonjun groan, "No, dude, look." It took Wooyoung longer than he'd care to admit to realize that he wasn't hallucinating when Yeonjun moved the camera to Kijoong who upon seeing Wooyoung, beamed up and waved. "HI WOOWOO," he yelled into the mic but Wooyoung was unbudging, still confused, "Hey bud, what- why are you with my friend Yeonjun?" and Kijoong shrugged his tiny shoulders, "Uncle followed me," and Yeonjun immediately turned the camera back on him, "That is not true, I found him at the park!" "The park? Why is he there? He was supposed to be in daycare," Wooyoung asked but it was apparent that he was doing something else frantically, "He was looking for (y/n)." That seemed to cause both men to stop momentarily and stare at each other knowingly.

With a sigh, Wooyoung mustered up a smile, "Kijoong, buddy," Kijoong, who heard his name being called, popped his head into the frame and tilted his head to the side, "I need you to go with Uncle Yeonjun here back to the hospital, okay?" Kijoong momentarily glanced up at Yeonjun before he furrowed his eyebrows, "But... (y/n) said I can't go with anyone I don't know," he said, looking at Yeonjun suspiciously. "But you do know him! You know I know him and he's going to take you back to the hospital!" Wooyoung tried to reason but Kijoong only stared at the screen with furrowed eyebrows. "Tell you what," Yeonjun spoke up finally, "How about you keep calling Uncle Wooyoung on our way to the hospital, huh? That way Uncle Wooyoung can see that I'm really bringing you to the hospital, how about that?" he reasoned. Kijoong seemed to be satisfied with the idea by nodding and opening his arms up so Yeonjun could carry him.

During the whole way to the car parked near the cafe and the hospital, Yeonjun took notice of how Kijoong seemed to be calmer though he kept talking about you along the way. What made Yeonjun sigh heavily was when Kijoong told Wooyoung to tell you that he was being so good and that he listened to you to not follow strangers so you could come back home. He actually said home and while it could easily be about the apartment he and his dad lived in, he had a feeling that Kijoong was talking about the place you belong in. Even when Wooyoung told him that he and his dad would be waiting by the lobby he asked about you, seemingly hopeful that you would be there for him.

When Yeonjun took Kijoong out of the backseat's seatbelt, he took notice of how Kijoong simply waited by his side as he made sure his car was locked before offering Yeonjun his phone before lifting his hand. "(y/n) said hold," he stated though innocently, his eyes was showing determination. Yeonjun barely knew the boy but he could tell how much he had grown to get used to and close to you so much so that he was dependent. For some reason the knowledge made him feel bad that you had been absent from his life.

Even before reaching the lobby, Yeonjun could see the neurosurgeon pacing back and forth worriedly with Wooyoung next to him with his arms crossed and disgust on his face, talking about something so serous that it caused Hongjoong to stop in his tracks and put his hands on his hips, replying Wooyoung something that was probably ridiculous to Wooyoung as seen from the way he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Daddy!"

The very second the automatic door opened, Kijoong let go of Yeonjun's hand and ran to his dad, grabbing the man's white jacket as if to crawl up. Hongjoong crouched down and scooped his son into his arms and burying his face in his hair. Hongjoong visibly let out a shaky sigh and you could almost see the stress leaving his shoulders.

"Where have you been? Why did you run out of daycare?" Hongjoong asked, momentarily letting go of his relief to scold his son. Before Kijoong could answer, Wooyoung stepped up and answered for the little boy, "Because he missed (y/n) you dumb fuck. Remember her? The strong as hell woman you manage to mess with YET AGAIN with whatever you said?" At the mention of messing with you, Hongjoong visibly shifted, seemingly uncomfortable that he was being called out like that. "What the hell did you say to her?" Wooyoung pressed, taking a step forward when Hongjoong lifted Kijoong into his arms, "What the hell happened that she couldn't seem to talk about it?" Hongjoong sighed and shook his head, "It's honestly not my business that she doesn't want to talk to you, but honestly, her running away and abandoning her responsibilities because I made a mistake is not on me." Had it not for the fact that his son was right there (and that it could jeopardize his employment), Wooyoung would have definitely punched Hongjoong in his face. "She ran away because of whatever it is you said or did, I can definitely be sure of that," Wooyoung scoffed but Hongjoong was not backing down, "You kept saying that she's an adult, she's a grown-up, she's a woman or whatever, so should a grown-up just hide when a mistake was made? I was and still am willing to talk about what I did wrong because I did, I can admit that, but frankly, I don't know how effective that conversation is now that she selfishly closed the door to have a conversation from her side and blocked other means of conversation. I get her need to preserve herself, to shield her from potential pain, and to tend to her wounded feelings first, I do, but she can't call me names when she herself is in hiding and is refusing to talk without even notifying anyone in her life. So before you bite my head for being stupid and God knows I was, do your friend a favour and help her back," he said before turning around and carrying Kijoong back to the daycare after bowing to Yeonjun and thanking him before excusing himself.

Hongjoong could feel Wooyoung and Yeonjun staring at him but he couldn't care less. 1. Wooyoung is stubbornly statued on his convictions so if he were to fight him off on it, he'd just be wasting his breath, 2. He didn't know Yeonjun and he knew Yeonjun is your friend so he would most likely side with you and try to defend you in front of him, 3. Kijoong had been returned and he would much rather focus on his son than strangers. But with each step he took, he couldn't help but let his mind go back to that day you left, that day he sat under his home office desk and let the fact that he had hurt you badly sink in slowly, drowning him in guilt and feeling of stupidity. Then his mind connected the memories and feelings to the ones he experienced years before, the day his ex abandoned him with their 3-month-old. And once again, he blamed himself for being abandoned by someone he had leant on, someone he trust, someone who was hurt because of him.

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[dunmeshistash]

Hey, remember that discussion about Marcille role in the magic school? In chapter 17 in English she is identified as "from the research program", which I just took to mean she went to different sort of classes. But the PT-BR translated it as "pós-graduação"(post-grad), which I found interesting. I looked and apparently the Japanese word 研究科 is literally "research section", but it is used for post grad students who continue to study and research at an university. (cont)

I don't think this changed the ultimate conclusion much, as we already knew she wasn't a regular student, but I find interesting this was identified very early in the story and many people didn't realize (English is not my first language, but I wonder if "research program" is just not a established thing in anglo universities so people don't realize what it was supposed to mean).

Also, thinking a bit more I will revise my previous theory. I postulated before Marcille never formally "graduated" and got "homeschooled" instead. I wonder if it is not a mix of both. 2 years seems too fast to join and graduate (we know Falin took longer), but maybe Marcile did join as a regular student 2 years prior, but because she had been learning from her mom she graduated super fast. That would further the mystique she carries with students as we see in chapter 17.

(referring to this.)

That's really interesting! It's not very straight forward how it works. Here's EHScans vs the official english of that scene from ch17 and ch 57

I guess this could be in the sense she wasn't there to learn like the other kids but to research on her own?

She is canonically a genius tho so I agree that she could have graduated formally before becoming a researcher!

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined------------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6

Aaron Hotchner x Original Character x Spencer Reid

in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest youngest member

Chapter Five:

Evelyn and Genevieve stepped into the haven of nostalgia for them. The walls, adorned with vintage photographs and local memorabilia, were faded brick and wood. Laughter bubbled up from tables around them, mingling with the soft strum of a guitar somewhere in the background. The air was rich with the scent of garlic and oregano, and the warm glow of string lights above cast a soft inviting glow overhead as she slipped into the warmth of the dimly lit corner booth.

Genevieve's eyes, sharp and observant, had the kind of clarity that came from her experience on the force, yet they sparkled with the same intensity that had driven her to become a cop in the first place. Her skin had a sun-kissed glow, a testament to countless hours under the Californian sun, but it was offset by a certain weariness that spoke of sleepless nights and too much coffee.

"So, tell me everything, Evie," she coaxed, leaning in. "How's life treating you at the BAU?"

Evelyn's smile was a burst of sunshine, lighting up her features with an infectious joy. She fiddled absentmindedly with her spoon. "It's been intense, but amazing," she replied. "Though, I must admit, it's refreshing not to be around people who can deduce your life story based on your coffee order, let alone how you're feeling before you've even fully woken up."

Genevieve laughed, her eyebrow arching in playful accusation. "Tell me about it, you've been doing it to me since we were twelve," she said, her eyes narrowing with mock severity. "But anyway, tell me about these infamous coworkers. Anyone... interesting?"

Evelyn's enthusiasm bubbled over as she began to gush about her colleagues. "Oh, they're incredible! JJ--she's got this uncanny ability to connect with victims, and Penelope, our tech goddess, can unravel anyone's dirty secrets with a click of a button. Morgan--he's like the best protective older brother, Rossi--he's like a walking encyclopedia of criminal behavior. And Prentiss, she can read a room like no other, she's been through a lot, but it only makes her stronger."

She paused, taking a sip of her wine, her cheeks flushing slightly. "And then there's Hotch. He's our unit chief, you know? So poised, so... commanding. And Reid," she sighed dreamily, "he's just a genius. His mind works like no one else, and he's got this awkward charm that's just..."

Genevieve smirked, leaning in, accusation on her tongue. "Sounds like someone's got a bit of a crush."

Evelyn's eyes widened, and she nearly choked on her wine. "What? No, I mean--they're just my coworkers, well, and my boss."

"Uh-huh," Genvieve teased, winking. "Just coworkers. Got it."

The laughter was cut short by the shrill ring of Evelyn's phone. She fished it out of her purse, the screen flashing Hotch. Her heart skipped a beat as she answered, "Gideon here."

"Evelyn, wheels up in 20. Kidnapping case in Rapid City, South Dakota. Two children, siblings, taken from their backyard. Local PD found an abandoned car with possible evidence. I need you here, ASAP." Hotch's voice retained a steady composure, yet there was an undercurrent of urgency that subtly underscored each word, compelling immediate attention.

A shadow of disappointment passed over Evelyn's features as she offered Genvieve a wordless apology. "Understood, on my way, sir."

She stood up, throwing on her purse with practiced haste. "Sorry, Gen, duty calls. Raincheck?"

"Go. Those kids need you," Genevieve said, her tone laced with mixture of pride and concern.

With a smile that conveyed her thanks, Evelyn hastened to the exit. As she swung the door open, she couldn't resist yelling over her shoulder, "Just coworkers!"

--

Evelyn burst through the doors of the conference room. The sharp click of her heels punctuated her every step, commanding the room's attention. She glided past the long table, her dress--a cascade of midnight blue that clung to her like a second skin--captured the soft light, giving her an ethereal glow. Her hair cascaded down in a tumble of soft girls that gently brushed her shoulders, giving her an air of relaxed grace. As she moved a hint of vanilla trailed behind her, a delicate perfume that lingered in the air, turning heads as she passed.

"Hi, everyone, sorry I'm late," she chirped, her go bag landing with a decisive thud. "You would not believe the traffic, and then I--,"

"Whoa, mama, someone's bringing the heat tonight!" Garcia interrupted, her eyes twinkled with delight, a grin spreading across her face as she took in Evelyn's appearance.

Morgan's laughter was a low rumble, his posture relaxed into the chair, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Damn straight. What's the occasion, doll face?" he teased.

Evelyn flashed a playful grin, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, you know, just saving the world in high heels and haute couture," she joked. "But no, I was out with a friend, didn't have time to change. I'll do that on the plane."

Hotch's penetrating stare, typically reserved for dissecting the minds of unsubs, now settled on Evelyn with an unspoken intensity. His deep brown eyes, usually so adept at observation, seemed to capture every nuance--the graceful sway of her hips, the faint scent of her perfume. It was a gaze that missed no detail, yet the depth of his focus was unusual, a quiet deviation from his usual professional detachment.

Spencer, usually lost in thought, his mind a labyrinth of facts and theories. But now, his attention was undeniably on Evelyn. His eyes held an analytical sharpness to them, but this time they held a different kind of curiosity, one that lingered on the ample flesh of her chest.

Evelyn, caught in the crossfire of their stares, felt a blush ignite her freckled cheeks.

JJ's curiosity piqued, and she leaned forward, her lips curving into a sly smile. "Oh, a friend?" Her voice was light, but the twinkle in her eye suggested she was fishing for a story colorful than just a casual catch-up.

Hotch's brows lifted almost imperceptibly. For a fleeting moment, a shadow of something unfamiliar flickered across his features--a tightness around his eyes, a slight downturn of his mouth. It was a sensation he couldn't place, an odd twinge that gnawed at this composure. He quickly schooled his expression back into neutrality, but the momentary lapse did not go unnoticed.

Spencer, on the other hand, was less adept at masking his reaction. His eyes, usually so full of thought, now reflected a clear disturbance, as if the mere suggestion of Evelyn being on a date had disrupted the very logic he held dear. His gaze lingered on her just a beat too long.

Evelyn's laughter was light, a clear note that brushed away any hint of scandal. "No, an actual friend. She's in from LA," she clarified, her tone breezy and unconcerned, dispelling the playful suspicions with a wave of her hand.

The room settled back into routine as JJ's gaze landed on Hotch, who appeared adrift in thought. "Hotch?" she called out, her voice a gentle tether pulling him back to the present.

Hotch cleared his throat, a stark interruption to the silence, a clear sign he was wrenching himself from the distraction. "Sorry, right," he stammered, a falter in his usually unwavering voice. His eyes, which had been tracing the contours of Evelyn's form, snapped back to the case file with a newfound intensity. "Let's get started..."

--

Evelyn stepped out of the bathroom, hastily adjusting her blouse. In her rush, she didn't notice Spencer standing right outside the door. With a sudden thud, their bodies met in an awkward tangle. Evelyn's hands flew up in surprise, grazing Spencer's chest as she steadied herself.

"Oh! Sorry, Spence," she exclaimed with a bright smile.

Spencer, equally taken aback, managed a flustered smile. "You're fine," he assured her, his voice a notch higher than usual as he stepped into the bathroom, his gaze lingering just a moment longer on the disarray of her attire.

Evelyn, straightened up, smoothing her clothes once more before taking a deep breath and heading back to her step.

Evelyn took in the sight of her team, already gathered and poised for the briefing. With a subtle clearing of her throat, JJ commanded attention, her fingers deftly pressing the remote. A soft click echoed in the hushed room as the screen flickered to life.

"Alright, team, we have a situation in Rapid City. Two children, siblings aged 7 and 9, were taken from their backyard near Sheridan Lake Road. The unsub left a clown mask at the scene. Local PD found an abandoned car three blocks away with candy wrappers and a handwritten note saying, 'Let's play a game'. We need to establish a profile and find these kids before the unsub escalates."

Hotch's voice was firm, his orders clear as the team prepared for landing, Reid emerging from the bathroom as he spoke. "Reid, Gideon, once we're on the ground, I want you two to head to the last known location of the children. Look for anything the local PD might have missed. After that, go to the local police station and assist them with victimology."

Hotch's phone rings. He answers with a curt. "Hotchner," and listens intently. The team watches him, reading the shift in expression as he receives the update from the local PD.

He ends the call. "The local PD has a lead. A performer known for his clown acts at children's parties was just taken into custody. They found evidence linking him to the abduction site. So change of plans. Reid, Evelyn, you're with me. We're going to interrogate the suspect. The rest of you, coordinate with the local teams. We need to cover all his known locations and find those kids."

--

The BAU's SUV glides to a stop in front of a local police station, a low building that seems to buzz with the day's frenetic energy. Hotch, with his characteristic stride, escorts Evelyn and Reid through the maze of bustling officers and ringing phones to a briefing room. The room is a testament to the case at hand; walls plastered with maps, timelines, and the faces of the missing children staring back at them. Hotch distributes the case files--thick filled with witness statements and background checks.

"Here's everything we have on the suspect," Hotch begins, "Known as 'Pogo the Clown' at parties, real name Jeffery Willis. No prior record of violence, but plenty of complaints about his behavior around kids."

Evelyn flips through the pages, absorbing the details. Hotch pivots towards her, his gaze steady and assessing, "Evelyn, you're new, but you've got a fresh perspective. That's valuable. Reid will take the lead, but I want you to watch the suspect. Look for inconsistencies in his story, any sign of deception."

Reid nods, his eyes already scanning the suspect's history. "We'll start with a cognitive interview, try to unlock any repressed memories or details he's not consciously aware of. It's a technique we use to get past the lies."

Hotch explains further. "Willis, he's got an ego, sees himself as a performer, above others. He's likely to underestimate both of you."

"Reid, he'll see you as harmless, someone he can easily outmaneuver. And Evelyn, he might dismiss your authority due to his preconceptions. But he's wrong, and that gives us leverage. Use his biases against him. Make him feel superior; it'll make him talk. He'll want to boast, to prove he's the smartest in the room. That's when he'll slip up."

Reid moves with a purposeful stride, his silhouette cutting through the dimly lit corridor towards the interrogation room. The gears in his mind turn swiftly, already sifting through the myriad of psychological strategies that might give him an edge. Evelyn started to trail behind him, her footsteps a soft echo to his confident march.

Hotch emerges before her, a figure of quiet authority. He positions himself before Evelyn, an unspoken barrier, his expression etched with a gentle concern that belies his firm stance. "Evelyn," he begins, his voice a low thrum, "this isn't going to be an easy interrogation. Willis is a performer; he thrives on attention and control. I need to know you're ready for this."

"I've trained for this. I've got this, Hotch," she lifts her chin, her gaze ascending to meet his.

Hotch regards her intently, his scrutiny thorough as if he could peel back the layers of her resolve. Yet, he finds no fissure of doubt. He grants her a slow, affirming nod. "Alright," he concedes, his voice a low rumble. "Remember, he's going to try and get under your skin, to throw you off balance." His proximity is close, almost invasive, but she didn't feel that way. "Stay focused and use his arrogance to your advantage."

Evelyn's head tilts up a fraction more, her eyes never leaving his. She nods. "I will."

Hotch's approval comes not just in a nod but in the subtle relaxation of his posture, a silent concession of her capability. He steps aside. As she passes, the air seems to hum with the vanishing of his body heat.

The interrogation room is stark, illuminated only by the unforgiving glow of overhead lights that cast long, dramatic shadows across the room. Jeffrey Willis is a disconcerting figure at the metal table, his clown makeup running in haphazard streaks, giving him a grotesque appearance. His eyes dart about, betraying a nervous energy as his leg trembles rhythmically beneath the table.

Reid steps into the room with an air of composed assurance, his intellect a sharpened blade ready to dissect the situation. Evelyn follows, her silhouette rigid against the doorway, her expression meticulously neutral. They take their seats, Reid assuming the lead with a gaze that never wavers from Willis.

"Jeffery, I'm Special Agent Reid, and this is Special Agent Gideon," Reid begins, his voice steady, "We're with the FBI, the behavioral analysis unit. We're here to talk about the children."

Willis' response is a smirk, his eyes alight with a disturbing spark of amusement. "Ah, the children," he drawls, a perverse delight curling the edges of his words. "They do so enjoy their games, don't they? High stakes make it all the more thrilling." His gaze shifts to Evelyn, taunting. "Isn't that right, sweetie? Or do they not trust you to speak?"

Evelyn's silence is her armor, her stillness a counter to his provocation. Beside her, Reid's jaw sets, a subtle clench that speaks volumes of his restraint. "Let's keep the focus where it belongs, Jeffery," he directs firmly.

"You ever been to the carnival? I used to love it. The toys, the sound of the water," Willis mused, leaning back as if the metal chair could transport him.

His chuckle breaks the reverie. "My mother, she loved games too," he continues, the smirk returning as he locks eyes with Evelyn. "The best ones, until she disappeared when I was sixteen." His gaze is probing, challenging. "But you, with a face like yours, life must've been easy, huh? Everything handed to you on a silver platter."

Evelyn's reaction is subtle, a slight narrowing of the eyes that betrays a flicker of emotion. Yet, she holds her silence, allowing Reid to handle the waters of Willis' provocations.

Willis edges closer, the space between them charged with his malice. "Or perhaps," he hisses, the words laced with spite, "mommy get sick of the guys giving you more attention than her?"

It's a low blow, one that slices through the air and lands precisely where he intended. Evelyn's facade falters, a minute shift, but it's there. "My mother is irrelevant to this," she retorts, her tone sharper, icier than she means for it to be.

From his vantage point behind the one-way mirror, Hotch catches the fleeting lapse. With a swift stride, he's in the room, his presence commanding. "Agent Gideon, a word," he commands, his voice leaving now room for argument.

Evelyn rises, her gaze lingering on Willis with a silent challenge before she pivots, her heels clicking a sharp retreat. She steps out, the chill of the corridor seeping into her bones, but it's the weight of Willis's words and her own slip that sends a shiver down her spine.

"Hotch, I--" she starts, her voice barely above a whisper, but Hotch is already there, his presence a wall of contained frustration.

"Agent," he interjects, his tone clipped, the word a reprimand in itself. "What did I say about maintaining control?" His proximity is unsettling, the heat of his frustration palpable, yet it's the closeness that somehow steadies her, sends a shiver down her spine, causing her thighs to clench together.

"I'm aware, and I apologize. It won't happen again," Evelyn responds, her words tumbling out in haste, her apology laced with urgency as she seeks to convey the clue Willis unwittingly dropped. "But I--"

Hotch is relentless, his words slicing through her attempts. "We can't afford distractions. There are two children out there; focus is imperative--"

"But the carnival," Evelyn cut in, her voice firm despite the brief hesitation, aware she's overstepping driven by instinct. "I'm sorry, but he talked about a carnival his mother would take him to. Have there been any carnivals in town lately."

For a moment, Hotch's stern facade falters, his eyes softening, betraying a flicker of curiosity. "Check with Garcia," he concedes, his voice still firm but the edge blunted.

--

Garcia's sanctuary of screens cast a soft glow in the dim room, her fingers a blur as they dance across the keyboard. "Nothing," she breathes out, the word laced with a tinge of defeat. "No carnivals, fairs, or anything similar within a 50-mile radius."

Reid's voice filters through the phone, tinged with concern as he leans in close over Evelyn's shoulder, almost whispering. "Did he grow up here? Maybe there's a connection to his past."

A pause, then Garcia's voice, distant yet clear. "No, grew up in a small town in Ohio--Millersport, near Buckeye Lake."

Reid's mind races. "Carnivals? Anything of the sort there?" he presses, hopeful.

The clacking of keys halts, a momentary silence before Garcia's voice returns, tinged with resignation. "It's a dead end. No recent events, nothing."

Evelyn chimes in. "He mentioned the sound of water, didn't he? It was deliberate, specific. Maybe it's less about an actual carnival and more about a place that felt like one to him."

A collective pause blankets the team. Garcia resumed her search. "Got something," she announces, a triumphant lilt to her voice. "An old cotton mill, nestled rise beside--get this--a carnival supply shop. It's about ten minutes from you guys."

"And here's the icing on the cake," Garcia continues, "his mother, Reyna Willis, was employed there. I'm sending you guys the address now."

--

The BAU team arrives at the desolate cotton mill, its dilapidated structure casting an ominous shadow in the fading light. Evelyn's heart pounds against her ribs, fear etched on her face. They move cautiously, guns drawn, the silence punctuated only by the soft crunch.

"Stay sharp." Hotch's command is a low murmur.

Evelyn nods at Hotch's words, paired with Morgan, as they make their way through the creaking corridors. The air is thick with dust. Room by room, they clear the mill, the tension mounting with each passing second.

Then, a soft whimper breaks the silence. Evelyn's head snaps towards the sound, her training taking over. She signals Morgan and approaches the door. With a gentle push, it swings open, revealing a small, frightened girl, nestled in the shadows.

Evelyn holsters her weapon, her stance softening as she kneels to the child's level. "Hey, it's okay, you're safe now," she whispers, her voice a soothing balm as the child curls into her side, her sobs muffled against Evelyn's shoulder, "you've been so brave."

"In here!" Morgan's call, firm and clear, cuts through the hush.

Hotch and Reid rush in, relief flooding their faces as they take in the scene. Meanwhile the sound of a relieved shout echoes through the mill. "We've got him! The boy's here!" Prentiss calls out from another room.

--

As the team wraps up the case, Hotch finds himself inadvertently watching Evelyn. She's a picture of compassion, the child in her arms so natural. There's something about this scene that stirs a warmth within him, an unfamiliar flutter that he can't quite place but pushes to the back of his mind.

He's always known she'd be good at this job, but this is different. It's hard to teach that. The way her eyes soften, the gentle tilt of her head as she whispers reassurances. It's a side of her he hasn't seen yet, one that didn't fit into the neat compartments of his professional demeanor.

Hotch feels a pull, an inexplicable draw to the tenderness she exudes. It's disconcerting, this reaction--like a chord struck deep within him. He watches her, the soft glow of the setting sun casting a halo around her silhouette.

He clears his throat, stepping closer, the gravel beneath his feet a subtle announcement of his approach. "We're about to head out," he says, his voice steady and low, not wanting to disturb the girl, her eyes fluttering in sleep.

Evelyn looks up, her eyes reflecting the last rays of the day. "I'll stay with until her parents arrive, if that's okay," she responds, her voice a low whisper. "She just fell asleep; I don't want to wake her."

Hotch nods, understanding her decision without a word. "We'll see you back at the jet, then," he says.

Evelyn smiles. "I'll be there," she assures him, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary before returning to the child in her arms.

--

The cabin lights flicker, a soft glow against the encroaching darkness outside. Evelyn rises from her seat, navigating the narrow aisle with a practiced ease. Evelyn is suddenly caught off guard by an unexpected jolt of turbulence. She lurches forward, her balance betraying her, and without warning she finds herself tumbling into Reid's lap. Her ass landed on his crotch as her lips fell open in surprise. He let out a soft groan, his hands instinctively reaching out to stabilize her. The rest of the team, deep in slumber, remained oblivious to the sudden closeness between the two.

"Whoa, are you okay?" Reid asked, his voice rising in pitch as his fingers dug into her hips.

Evelyn's breath hitches, her heart racing from the fall, the warmth of his hands, and the feeling of his crotch pressed firmly against her backside. She let out a giggle in an attempt to shake the feeling. "Gosh, sorry, Reid," she stammered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

For a moment, they are both still, the silence enveloping them, their eyes locked in a gaze that speaks volumes more than the words could. Then, as quickly as the moment came, it passed. Evelyn carefully extricates herself from his lap, her movements hurried, eager to put some distance between them.

next

taglist: @nonamevenus @aceofspades190

[callsign-magnolia]

Undiagnosed // Ch. 15

MATURE CONTENT 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents, smut.

Word Count: 6.4k

Chapter 14 | Masterlist

We rode to Bob’s house in silence. I looked out the window, tears streaming down my cheeks. He had to know what he said hurt, he had to. The way he kissed me last night, there was something there, I know it. Unless I was the only one that felt it. That thought alone made more tears stream down my cheeks. I managed to stop the tears a few minutes before we got to Bob’s place, I just hoped my cheeks weren’t red and splotchy. As we pulled in the driveway Bob stepped outside, smiling at us. I slid out before Jake even cut the truck off and walked up to Bob. I was a little surprised when he opened his arms for a hug but didn’t hesitate to step into them. He hugged me tightly as I squeezed him in return. “You okay?” He whispered and I pulled back, giving him a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He eyed me for a second before turning to Jake. “Finally willing to part with it are you?” Jake asked, looking at Bob with a smirk. “Yeah. At least it’ll be in good hands.” I furrowed my brows in confusion as Bob handed me some keys. “It was built in ‘01 and I've been the only person to own it.” He said pointing to an older truck that Jake was now leaning on. “Like it?” Jake asked and my brows shot up. 

“Oh no! No, I can’t accept this.” I said as I handed the keys back to Bob. “Too bad,” Jake said as he walked over taking the keys himself. “It’s already paid for.” My jaw dropped and I gaped at him as he opened the drivers side door and climbed in. He started it up and the truck roared to life and he grinned. “It sounds great.” Jake said and slid out. “Well, go on. It’s yours.” I stared at him for a moment, challenging him but he had that stupid smug grin on his face and that just pissed me off even more. I snatched the keys from him, huffing before I climbed in. I sat down and looked to my right, scoffing. “If you’re such a genius, why did you buy a straight shift?” I asked and he raised a brow. “Do you not know how to drive a straight shift?” He asked. “My parents never taught me how to think for myself. What makes you think they taught me to drive a straight shift?” I snapped and he reeled back, looking at me confused. I know when we had our blow up when he came home, we talked about me getting angry with him but I think I have a legitimate reason. 

“Well I can teach you.” Bob said and I sighed. “School starts in two weeks.” He nodded. “You’ll learn by then.” He responded. “Let’s take her for a drive.” Jake shut my door and he and Bob came around and slid across the bench seat from the passenger side. “I don’t know if this is gonna work.” I said and Jake chuckled. “I’ll help you. Now, the clutch is on the far left. I suggest only using your left foot on it and using your right between the gas and the brake.” I situated my feet as he said. “Okay, press the clutch and the brake.” I did and he took my hand, the warmth of it engulfing me. He set it on the gear shift, wrapping his around mine. “The reverse is gonna be in the bottom right. So, we gotta come out of neutral and move down.” He did and slid the gear over to the right. “There. This is reverse. So when you release the parking brake and back up, let off the break and slowly come off the clutch. Not too fast, you’re not going anywhere fast.” I nodded and brought my foot off the break, looking in all the mirrors before releasing the clutch. I backed out and hit the break and clutch. “Now into first.” I looked at the top of the gear shift and shifted myself, causing Jake to smile at me. “Now come off the clutch.” I did and the truck died. “What’d I do?” I panicked, worried I’d already messed it up. “I should’ve told you to not come off the clutch so fast. Let’s try again.” After a while I was able to make it down the road and back with little issue. 

We got out and I sighed. “I just don’t know how I’m gonna learn in time for school.” I said and Bob chuckled, tossing his arm over my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you know.” Bob used to be so shy around me, but I came to find that once you got to know him he was as friendly as anyone else, funny too. “I have to buy scrubs and books for school by next Tuesday. If you have time then maybe you can teach me while we go do that?” I asked and he nodded. “Sounds like a plan. I’m free Monday.” I smiled at him. “Great.” At my words Jake walked over, handing me his keys. “You take my truck and I’ll take yours?” He asked and I nodded. “YOu guys wanna go get dinner?” Bob asked and we shook our heads. “No, Katie said she was cooking tonight.” Jake motioned to me and I nodded. “Well maybe another night then.” Bob said and I was quick to agree. “Sure, maybe we can go on Tuesday after we get my stuff.” I said and he nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” Jake looked between us but I just pulled Bob in one final hug before heading to Jake’s truck. “See you at home.” I said, shutting the door as I adjusted the seat. I didn’t want to be near him right now. I needed distance. I backed out of Bob’s driveway and started for the house. I had tears streaming down my face again, and I was getting angry with myself. 

Angry for letting myself feel things for him. I knew better, even though he kissed me, I shouldn’t have let myself feel these things. You’re hard to love.  I decided to crank up the radio, hoping the rock music would drown out my mother’s voice. It was loud and I had the windows down as I coasted down the road. It was nice and by the time I got home, I felt a little better. I got inside and shut the door, deciding to preoccupy myself with dinner. I started on the asparagus and the potatoes, putting them on the same pan before seasoning them, when Jake came in. “So… what do you think?” He asked. “About the truck?” He nodded, looking nervous as he leaned on the doorframe. I put the pan in the oven and turned to him. “I think I’ll like it just fine when I learn to drive it.” He pursed his lips, nodding. “But I’m really grateful, Jake. You’ve done a lot for me and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay you for any of it.” He gave me a smile. Not a smirk, a smile before walking closer and pulling me into a hug, which caught me off guard. “I don’t want you to repay it, Katie.” 

I didn’t hug him back, just stepped away and started dinner. “I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.” I could tell he was looking at me, in what way, I didn’t know. I wasn’t turning around to find out. I heard him walk away and it’s like I could finally breathe. I hated all this. I should’ve known better than to kiss him. We live together and he just got out of a serious relationship. It was a stupid move and now I have to deal with the regret of it. Once dinner was ready, Jake set the table before I could and helped me put the food on the table. As soon as we started eating Jake moaned, the same way he did last night. “God! You’re such a good cook!” He exclaimed. I couldn’t help the small smile that came to my face at the compliment. “There’s that pretty smile.” He said, gently nudging my cheek. We went through most of dinner in silence and Jake cleaned up the kitchen while I retreated to my room. The only other time I came out was to shower and then I went back to my room, shutting the door. I read most of the night before drifting off with my book on my chest. Saturday and Sunday were rough. Jake was teaching me to drive the truck, and I was doing good at first but then we started on hills. 

“DAMMIT!” I screamed in frustration. “What the fuck am I doing wrong?” I asked him just after I killed it for the eighth time. “Okay, deep breath.” He said and I turned on him. “Don’t tell me to take a deep fucking breath.” I snapped and he nodded. “It’s all about timing and it takes a while to get it. It took me months to learn.” He said and I groaned, leaning back on the bench seat. “I don’t have months to learn. I have two weeks!” He took a deep breath, releasing it through his nose. “I know that. That’s why I’m trying to teach you, but you can’t learn if every little things sets you off!” His voice grew louder and I sat quietly. I know he’s right, but it’s so hard. All this anger and frustration builds in me and I just explode. “Now one more time.” He said sternly. This time I gently pressed the gas, let the RPM’s get between two thousand and three thousand, then quickly downshifted. The truck took off and we finally made it up the hill. “Thank god.” I said as I took a left around the corner and went to pull into the driveway but Jake stopped me. “Again.” I could’ve cried. Needless to say, we didn’t get back up the hill again for a while. 

I was thankful for Monday because Jake was gone all day at work and when he came home, he was exhausted, Mav worked them really hard. Then on Tuesday Bob showed up to go with me to get all my school stuff. I made my way for the door and just as I grabbed my purse I heard Jake from the kitchen. “Don’t forget this!” He said, coming over and handing me his credit card. “Oh, are you sure you just don’t wanna give me cash?” A set amount of money. “No, books may cost more than you anticipated and you may need more than two sets of scrubs.” He said, holding the silver card out to me. I looked up the books on the bookstore website and wrote down all the prices, so I knew what the total should be. “Jake-” “Take it. I’d feel better knowing you had it just in case.” He took my hand, laying the card in it and closing my fingers around it. I just huffed and agreed, grabbing my wallet from my purse and putting it inside. “When will you be back?” He asked as I opened the door, Bob standing against the porch railing. “Uh, I’m not sure.” I told him. 

“Ready?” I asked, turning to Bob and he nodded. “I think I should be asking you that.” He said and I chuckled. “Yes.” We started for my truck and Jake called out to us. “Hey!” We turned towards him, his eyes shifting between us. “Go easy on her.” Anger flared inside me. I don’t need anyone going easy on me. “Sure thing.” Bob replied and we got in. As soon as both of our doors shut I turned to him. “I don’t-” “I don’t intend to go easy on you. Now, show me what you know so far.” With that I cranked the truck and backed out of the driveway. We started down the road, thankfully going the opposite direction of that damned hill. “You’re a little jerky, but I think you’re doing good so far. The longer you drive, the smoother you’ll get.” He said and it felt good to know that I didn’t completely suck so far. Once we hit the freeway it became easier, I didn’t have to shift as much and soon we arrived on campus. We walked into the bookstore and I sighed, feeling overwhelmed by everything. “You got a list?” Bob asked and I nodded, pulling it out of my purse and showing him. 

“Which editions do you need?” He asked. I sighed. “Fuck. I didn’t think about different editions.” I muttered. “Let me pull up the email.” I said, digging out my phone. “You guys need any help?” A woman asked as she came over. “Uh, yeah.” Bob said. “First year nursing program.” She smiled and motioned us to follow her. We did as I still searched for the email before Bob waved a paper in my face. I leaned back, blinking a few times so my eyes could adjust. “List of books?” I asked. “Your books.” It had a picture of the covers and everything. “This makes everything so much easier.” I said. “Most of the books are over on the fifth aisle.” The lady said and I thanked her before we wandered over to the aisle. It was pretty easy to pick them all out and soon I had them all. “Do you need notebooks or anything?” He asked, motioning to the displays of pens, pencils and notebooks. “No, They’re more expensive here. I can go to Walmart and get them for super cheap.” We made it to the counter and all the books came out to the exact total I added it up to be. I checked out and we carried them out to the truck. “I hope you don’t have to carry all of these to school everyday.” Bob said and I shrugged. “Knowing my luck, I probably will.” 

Once we left campus we headed for the scrub shop that was recommended. I was shocked to find it not busy when we walked in, just one woman at the counter and another sifting through the racks. “Is there a specific color you have to wear?” I nodded. “Royal Blue.” With that we spent an hour flipping through the racks, grabbing all different brands. Once I went to try them on, Bob sat outside waiting for me. It didn’t take too long and I left with four sets of the brightly colored scrubs. “That was more complicated than I thought it would be.” I said. We could only have a specific style of scrubs then I had to leave them with the shop owner so she could embroider the name of the school on the left breast so I only left with my pants. “Wanna get dinner?” Bob asked and I nodded. “Where?” “There’s this great diner over by base. Then when we’re done, we can go to Walmart and get some more of your supplies.” I nodded and we headed that way. We were almost there when we got to a hill. They aren’t a problem unless I have to stop, and this hill had a red light at the top. “Come on. Come on.” I whispered, hoping the light would stay green long enough for me to get through. 

But it turned yellow and the car in front of me hit the brakes. “Dammit.” I muttered and Bob looked at me. “Trouble with hills?” I nodded. “I got it a few times but I mostly fail.” I was panicking because there were a bunch of cars behind me. There’s never anyone behind me on the hill in Jake’s neighborhood. What if I stall? “Don’t panic. Just watch the light.” I did as he said and as soon as it turned green, he spoke. “Hit the gas.” I did and as soon as the RPM’s were high enough I downshifted and we took off. “I did it!” I said loudly and he laughed at me. “See, just remain calm and it’ll all work out.” As soon as we topped the hill we pulled in the diner parking lot and got out. “So what’s going on with you and Jake? You seemed… off when you came to get the truck.” He said as we sat down. “It’s a long boring story.” I replied, not really wanting to talk about it. Just the thought irritated me. Of him just deciding to take it all back. “What’d he do?” He raised a brow at me. “What makes you think it’s something he did?” I asked. 

“It’s Bagman. He always does something.” He replied, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “He kissed me.” I muttered. But he heard me, his eyes widening. “He did what?” He asked and I nodded. “When I found out that I got into the nursing program. Or really, I kissed him but he’s the one that kept doing it. We were intoxicated and he said we should wait till we’re sober. But the next day he came in saying we should just forget about it. Pretend it never happened.”  My gaze dropped to my lap as Bob sighed. “Katie. I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “Don’t be. I should’ve known better. Just because he’s nice to me, doesn't mean he has feelings.” I responded. “You’re right about that in general. But I think you’re wrong about him.” He said. “Oh, don’t you start too! Apparently after Bradley’s birthday party he talked to Jake the next morning and insinuated that he had feelings for me, which Jake denied.” Bob chuckled. “You know why he called Rooster?” He asked and I shook my head. “He was jealous.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Jake does not have feelings for me!” I exclaimed. “He ditched his girlfriend-” “We made plans prior to his date.” I cut him off. “She told him if he left, it was over. He didn’t think twice. Got up, took her flowers and went back to you.” I looked at him stunned. 

“Those were her flowers?” I asked quietly and he nodded. “He said he snatched them right off the table.” I sat back in the booth. “I don’t know if I should be offended. Being given another girls flowers.” I muttered. “He literally snatched them from her. I’d say be flattered.” Bob said and I sighed. “Can we not talk about this anymore?” I asked and he nodded. “I still don’t think he has feelings for me anymore.” I told him and he smiled at me. “You’re wrong.” He said, turning his head down to look at the menu. We ate and then went to Walmart, getting more supplies before he took me back to Jake’s. “I can’t believe you tripped over your own feet!” Bob chuckled as we walked in. “I’m clumsy!” I responded with a laugh. I had tripped in Walmart and fell flat on the floor. “You’re usually in heels and walk fine!” I huffed, setting the bags on the table as Jake came out. “Look. I am vertically challenged in flat shoes!” He laughed loudly at my words and even Jake smiled. “Have fun?” He asked and I nodded. “We did. We got all the things I needed, had dinner and then we got more school supplies from Walmart!” I said as I pulled out a notebook. He nodded. “How do you feel about the truck?” He asked. “I’m still not great but I’m feeling more confident about it now.” He nodded with a small smile. “Do you need anything else for school?” He asked, looking at the pack of highlighters I got. “Uh yeah, I need a bag, stethoscope, and they suggested a good water bottle.” I said and he chuckled. “You’ll probably be too busy to actually stop and drink something.” He took the list from me, looking it over. “You’re gonna need a laptop.” He said and I shook my head. “I’ll get on just fine without one.” I told him. 

I spent the next two weeks getting everything ready. Natasha bought me a brand new backpack, light gray and it had plenty of room for all my stuff. Bradley even bought me a lunch box, saying tha hospital food is gross and I’d be better off taking my own food. The night before my first day I made sure to do things like shower early. That way I had plenty of time to read and wind down for bed. I was about to lay down when Jake yelled for me. I walked downstairs and he smiled at me. “I don’t like that look on your face.” I told him and he motioned me closer. “Come ‘ere. I got you a few things.” I stepped closer and he handed me a long box. I had a feeling I knew what it was, so I ripped the paper off and opened the box. Inside was a Tiffany blue stethoscope. I gasped as I pulled it out, admiring it. “This is gorgeous!” He smiled at me, grabbing the chest piece. “And look.” He turned it a few times then handed it to me. There was an engraving on it. My name, between two hearts. “Oh, Jake.”

It was a whisper but I stared down at the gift, my heart thudding in my chest. It was such a small gesture but it meant so much. “You like it?” He asked and I nodded, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you.” I whispered in his ear. He squeezed me tightly before letting go. “I have one more gift for you.” He motioned to the box on the table. I smiled, grabbing the paper and ripping it off, my face falling when I saw what was in it. “Jake. I told you I would make do without a laptop.” I told him and he sighed. “I know. But it will make school easier on you.” I shook my head. “You can take it back.” He shook his head. “No.” I wanted to scream at him, throw something. “Yes!” “Why?” He demanded. “You have let me live in your home! You bought me a phone, books, clothes, a fucking truck!” I yelled at him. “And what have I done? Eat your food-” “Make meals when I’m exhausted. I’ve had more time to do what I want because you constantly clean even though you don’t have to. You keep me from getting lonely. Katie, I told you I didn’t want you paying me back.”

“It’s not a matter of if you want me to or not. It’s the fact that I feel like I’m freeloading off you. Jake, you’ve spent thousands of dollars on me! I would’ve been just fine taking a bus or hell, walking even.” He just smiled at me and I wanted to smack him. “I wanted to spend that money.” He said. “Where the hell are you getting all this money anyway? Money you can just throw away? The navy doesn’t pay you that much.” He just chuckled. “Darlin’, I’m a fighter pilot. I make more money than you think. Besides, I’m good with money. I put back a lot.” “YOUR SAVINGS?! JAKE! Don’t spend your savings on me!” He just chuckled again and I was starting to hate the sound. “Didn’t make a dent in it, darlin’.” He kissed my head and walked upstairs to go to bed. I groaned, setting the half unwrapped box back on the table and followed. He went into his room and I went into mine. I had to calm down, get a good night's sleep. So I curled up in bed with my book, reading till my eyes drooped and after a few minutes of fighting sleep to finish the chapter I put the book down. I rolled over, facing the window, the moonlight streaming in as I finally drifted off.  

By the time I woke up the next morning, Jake was gone. Which I was grateful for. I was already stressed and I didn’t need him asking questions or telling me to calm down. Once I did my hair and makeup, I slipped into my scrubs. They were more comfortable than I expected. I put my tennis shoes on, tying them before grabbing my already packed bag and heading downstairs. I made my coffee, filled the giant water bottle I bought. I should have plenty for the day. I tossed my lunch into my lunchbox and went to grab my bag. I saw the laptop sitting on the table, unwrapped, with a sticky note on top. ‘Charged and ready for your day. Please take it.’ I wasn’t going to, but I caved. It could make school easier so I grabbed it, placing it into the pocket of my backpack and grabbed my truck keys. I was practically shaking as I drove to school, but thankfully keeping both hands busy made it easier. 

I walked into class half an hour early. There were two other girls in there and I made my way to the front, taking my seat. I pulled out my notebooks, pens, pencils and highlighters, setting everything up. Then I pulled out the laptop, turning it on. I got the basics set up on it with my email just as someone sat next to me. “Boy am I glad there was one more seat up here.” The girl to my left said. I just smiled at her, feeling even more nervous now. Once it was set up I put it away and pulled out the folder that had stuff like the syllabus in it. “I like those highlighters. Where’d you get them?” She asked and I looked at her, following her pen that was pointing at the pack of pastel highlighters. “Uh, walmart.” I said quietly, looking down at my notebook. “I’m Brook.” She held out her hand and I gently took it. “Katie.” She smiled at me and opened her mouth to speak when a voice from behind us spoke up. “Good morning ladies!” A chipper voice spoke up and as I looked around, I realized this class was in fact, all women. The blonde woman took her spot up front at a tall desk with a monitor on it. “I am Rebecca Ford. I have a masters in nursing education but before that my focus was on Orthopaedics. You can call me Mrs. Ford, Rebecca, but most students just call me Becca. In this class you’ll be learning the basics. Your professors will rotate out of the room, it’s easier than dragging you from one room to the next. This orientation will last two weeks and you will start your clinicals in October. While you are in orientation, you will be in scrubs. When you go to clinicals, you will be in scrubs. But after orientation, when you have class you can wear whatever you like, as long as it is appropriate. I don’t want another two-thousand-eight bikini case.” We all chuckled and she grinned. “Kid you not. We had a girl come in wearing a bikini, no cover-up all because she was going on a boat after class. Shorts, tank tops, crop tops it doesn’t matter. I just don’t want to see boobs or ass.” With that she kicked off the class and I struggled to keep up in my notes and by the end of the day my hand ached.

I drove home, flexing my hand but feeling good. I missed a few things in my notes but Brook said she’d take pictures of hers and send them to me. I walked into the house and Jake immediately rushed over to me. “So? How’d it go?” He asked and I bumped into the wall. “Woah! Ease up!”He immediately back up, taking my bag. “It was good. A lot of information but I got most of it.” I told him as he set my bag on the table. “You think you’re gonna like it?” I nodded. “I really do. I’m gonna go change out of these scrubs.” I rushed upstairs, slipping on some shorts and the sweatshirt Jake gave me. “Got any homework?” I nodded. “Yeah. A lot of intro stuff but I can do it pretty quick.” I told him and he nodded. “Want me to start dinner?” He asked and I nodded. That sandwich I had earlier barely held me over till I got home. Thankfully we have a break area with a microwave so I can heat up leftovers. So tomorrow I won’t be so hungry. I did the online homework given to us then I reorganized my notes with the ones Brook sent me. “Make any friends?” He asked as he set the plate of hot food in front of me. “This one girl, Brook. I don’t know about friends, but she’s already sent me her notes because I missed some. So I think she’ll be a big help.” He nodded. “Maybe you can record your lectures on your phone. That way if you miss anything you can go back and listen. Plus hearing it over and over will help you to remember it” I nodded, shoving broccoli into my mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat so fast.” 

“I’m hungry!” I said. “That sandwich wasn’t much.” He chuckled. “Well we’ll make sure you have plenty of food tomorrow.” And he did. I sat down with Brook and another girl, Annie outside and they gaped when I opened the container holding my food. “Did you make that?” Brook asked as we sat on the grass. “Uh, no. Jake did.” I said, taking a bite. “Ooh, whose Jake? You’re boyfriend?” She wasn’t teasing, but she seemed genuinely interested. But her question reminded me how I needed to keep my feelings guarded. “Uh, no. He’s uh… he’s a roommate.” I said. “But you have feelings for him.” Brook and I both looked at Annie who had a look of indifference on her face. “No.” I said quickly. “Yes you do.” I opened my mouth to snap at her but she cut me off. “Katie. I’ve been in your exact situation before. I lived with a guy who I had deep feelings for. In the end, I got my heart broken. Just be careful.” I shook my head. “Jake wouldn’t hurt me.” That was a lie. He already did by telling me to forget about our night of kissing. “He probably wouldn’t on purpose. But you may tell him and he may think he’s letting you down easy. But it still hurts.”

Annie’s words sat with me all week. So much that they’ve distracted me in class. I’ve been coming home every night, listening to the lectures again and reorganizing my notes. I was sitting on my bed, laptop open, papers spread everywhere as a knock sounded from my door. I looked up to see Jake leaning on the doorframe. “Hey.” I muttered. “Hi.” He said, walking closer. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you work so hard. Never for your law classes.” I nodded. “Because I actually want this.” He nodded, looking around. “Did you… need something?” I asked, finally looking up at him. “Oh, uh… I did have a question.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. What is it?” I didn’t have time for a run around. I have to know this stuff, our first exam is slowly creeping closer. “There’s a… naval ball coming up.” I nodded, half listening as I read over my notes. “I was wondering if you’d go with me?” My head snapped up to him. “Absolutely not.” I said and stood from my bed. “Stand in the same building as my father? No thank you! In case you’ve forgotten, if he so much as sees me he’ll pull some shit.” He held his hands out, palms up as if to say, ‘there’s more’. “But that’s the beautiful thing. You’re father has a meeting with the other admirals that evening and it could go on for hours.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “He could still show up. Plus I don’t wanna deal with Coop. He’ll tell my father I’m with you and so could anyone else.” He shook his head. “Everyone is sure you left of your own free will. No one is looking for you and Mav banned Coop and Richardson from attending.” I shook my head, sitting back down. “I’m still not going.” He sighed, looking down at me. “Well, it’s in three weeks if you change your mind.” I hummed, highlighting some things as he walked away. This was good. Even if I thought it was safe this would keep the distance I needed to get over my feelings for him. 

That Saturday I went over to Bradley’s, him and Natasha eager to hear about my first week of class. “You think you’re gonna do well?” Bradley asked as he sipped the wine Natasha brought. I nodded. “If I can stop having distractions I will.” Nat raised a brow. “Distractions?” I nodded. “Jake asked me to go with him to that fucking ball.” I said, irritation growing in me. “Your father won’t be there.” Bradley said and I nodded. “I know. That’s not the only reason.” I told him. “Then what is?” I sighed, debating on telling them. “Is it the kiss?” My head snapped to Nat. “You know?!” I asked and she nodded. “He was all giddy the next morning. Talking about how  great he felt and what happened.” My eyebrows shot up. “Then why did he tell me that we just needed to pretend it never happened and forget about it?” They both sat up straight. “He what?” Bradley asked. “Yeah. Came in from work and it was the first thing he said to me.” Bradley groaned, falling back into the couch. “What a dumbass.” Nat nodded. “He really is.” She sighed. “He probably said that because when he was going on about it, I told him he needed to make sure he wasn’t using you to get over Kelly. I wanted to make sure he didn’t drag your heart through the mud to make himself feel better. Not that he would hurt you on purpose, I don’t think he’d realize it.” Bradley nodded. “The man is oblivious.” 

“So you’re telling me that he didn’t regret it?” I asked and Nat shook her head. “Oh I doubt he regrets it. He probably just wanted to make sure he wasn’t gonna hurt you.” Bradley nodded again. “You could go home and kiss him right now and I bet he wouldn’t resist.” Throughout the night Bradley’s words rang in my head and when I got home I sauntered up to the front door. I was warm and everything was fuzzy, even with my glasses. I probably shouldn’t have driven and I realized that as I leaned against the wall in the entryway. I hung my purse up but stopped when I heard something from the living room. “Fuck.” It was a breathy moan. I peaked around the corner, half expecting to see Kelly. But I was shocked to find Jake alone, shirtless, boxers pulled down as he pumped his thick cock. I squeezed my thighs, excitement pooling in my belly. My panties were damp almost instantly at the thought of him between my legs. “Katie.” He moaned. Right now, I wanted the heavy weight of his cock on my tongue.

I stepped out from around the corner and watched him for a moment. He was slowly pumping himself, as if to drag out his high. I took three slow steps forward before he looked at me and jumped. “Katie!” He looked like a deer in headlights as I walked closer. “I-I uh-I don’t-what are you doing?” I was standing before him before I kneeled down on my knees before him. He stared at me in shock. “You fantasize about me between your legs. I fantasize about your cock on my tongue.” Before he could do anything I reached forward, taking him in my hand. He was large, a prominent vein running down the underside. I stroked him a few times before leaning forward, resting the swollen head against my tongue. He was like velvet, smooth as I wrapped my lips around him. “Katie.” He moaned, hand resting on my cheek as I looked up at him through my lashes. “Are you sure?” My only response was taking him deeper in my mouth. I slowly took him deeper until he nudged the back of my throat and I gagged. Jake’s hand disappeared into my hair and I used my hand to pump the rest of him. “God. How are you so good at this?” He asked and I pulled back. “I read a lot.” I held my tongue out, letting saliva fall onto his cock before I took him back into my mouth. 

I hollowed my cheeks and he thrust into my mouth, hardly able to contain himself. “Darlin’. You feel so good around me.” He moaned and I had to admit, most girls complain about blowjobs but I’m thoroughly enjoying it. I took the plunge and buried my face in his pelvis, deep throating him as I nuzzled the short hairs at the base of his cock. I reached up, cupping his balls and he jumped. “I’m about to cum down your throat if you don’t stop.” I smirked to myself and swallowed, throat constricting around him and he groaned, gripping my hair a little tighter. “Do it again.” It was a growl and I happily did it again. I bobbed him in and out of my mouth, the noises coming from me were pornographic and obscene but his moaning grew louder and his grip on my hair tightened. “Take me so well. You like sucking on my cock?” I pulled him out to the tip and nodded before burying my face in his pelvis again and swallowing. “Fuck!” Without warning hot spurts of cum hit the back of my throat. I pulled him out, letting it shoot out onto my tongue. His body was tense and my nails dug into his thighs. Once I was done, I pulled back, holding out my tongue for him to see his load before swallowing. “Katie, I-” I cut him off by wrapping my hand around the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss, licking into his mouth and allowing him to taste himself on my tongue. I let him go, room spinning as I stood straight. “Goodnight Lieutenant.” With that I walked away, stumbling up the steps and falling face first onto my bed where I fell asleep without changing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[tae-rambles]

OP ch 1125 SPOILERS

my reaction as i read:

so i guess finding Minamoto will be Yamabro's next mission

also i'm glad to see Oden's castle being rebuilt but shouldn't there be like a gigantic crater from Kaido blasting it and then Shinobu using her fruit?

is Lucci protecting Stussy or did Kaku lie to him? based on Kaku's expression i'm betting on the latter

the vice admirals look like children who were caught doing something bad and called in front of the principal lol

oh, this is so funny... Saturn ordering to study Emet in secret is fkin hilarious

also, this is a confirmation that Saturn got the eternal youth surgery like Imu (though the "youth" part is debatable lol) and we can infer the others got it too most likely (that doesn't mean that they are from the oid Century though - remember how they talked about the Nika fruit like it's a legend for them? it's very possible these Gorosei aren't the original ones. i do believe Imu is from the VC tho)

Doberman, aren't you a vice admiral? one would think he'd already know not to ask such questions lol

still wondering what the glare attack is tho. it doesn't seem to be haki since there's no lightning to provide a visual cue for us but who knows... Oda might not be adding the lightning just to confuse us

huh? Edison? he's still alive :D ! (of course he is..) but also wtf just happened? Edison i love your genius brain so much! that's one less victory for the World Government (suck it York! and Gorosei! >:D)

seeing Tenryubito suffer (if it can even be called suffering) brings smile to my face

holy shit! Garling! omg... are they gonna kill Saturn?

also, does he even know anything about science? (although... judging by the current state of the world... one doesn't need to know anything about a subject to be in charge of it...)

Garling really just said "how do you do fellow kids" lol

and the rest of the Gorosei don't look very happy lol i wonder if there's a hidden meaning behind the last reaction shot being Peter's... might the traitor theory be true?

oh that was beautiful! rest in piss Saturn ^-^ i'm so glad it wasn't quick and painless >:)

damn, only bones left (i so need to know wtf is going on with Imu's powers)

the rest of the Satellites! :D

lmao what is that

you do indeed have lovely proportions Shaka lol

oh hi Haredas :D of course they know each other

my darling husband Sabo is connecting the dots he's so smart

(Iva too) so Tequila Wolf isn't the only one... i'm guessing there's one for each Blue (and why tf are they all named after alcoholic drinks)

Dragon always the realist

for a breather chapter in-between arcs a bunch of big stuff happened and were revealed. just seeing Saturn die painfully made this an excellent chapter lol

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac # 57 : Detective Greatdeal

Wukong play with his cubs

If someone asked Wukong, in the past, how children played with dolls, he would have said something generic like : “Surely they play household”. Now, as he was currently helping his kids solve the murder of Mr Shady (apparently named like this because he had a shady face) he lamented at his past ignorance. He was playing Inspector O, a plush monkey with an O shaped mouth, apparently the naive associate of the genius Detective Greatdeal. 

“Obviously, the killer is among us!” Announced Detective Greatdeal, Rumble shook the rabbit plushie’s tiny paws with great conviction. Wukong bit his lips to restrain himself from laughing. The scene was so adorable, but his pups were taken this very seriously, so he had to act accordingly. 

“Really? Who is it Detective?” Cooed Wukong with his most high-pitched voice, he shook his tiny monkey plushie to convey surprise. 

“Who killed my husband??” Wailed Savage, she was playing Mr Shady's partner, Pr Shady. Pr Shady was a lizard plushie with a makeshift leaves crown. Wukong didn't follow the investigation that much. He knew Mr Shady was found murdered by a sharp leaf in his living room, and that he lived in a remote area that was supposedly impossible to reach. The only other person with the means to reach the Shady's mansion was Pr Shady, thus making him the most likely suspect. Moreover, Mr Shady was killed by a leaf and coincidentally Pr Shady also had a leaves crown. 

“The one who found the body is you, Inspector O.” Recalled Detective Greatdeal, Rumble made his plushie walk mysteriously among the suspects. “You were about to take on the case when I coincidentally passed by this province.”

“That's right, Detective.” Nodded Wukong, he honestly didn't remember this plot point, but he just went along with his cubs games. It was a bit difficult to handle a doll so tiny but his pups didn't want him to shrink. Apparently, they liked better when he was his regular size. He didn't question it. Besides, being so high compared to them enabled him to see this adorable scene from upward. 

“Pr Shady is the most likely suspect. After all, with his husband dead, no one stood before him and the Shady's money.” Hummed Rumble, he took one of his plushie paws and placed it on its chin, as if it was thinking. 

“What!? You accuse me of murder? This is unforgivable!” Gasped Savage, she put paws on Pr Shady's tiny mouth, as if it was shocked. 

“Yes, you're the most likely suspect. But it's not you. In fact the murderer is the one who discovered the body, it's you Inspector O!!” Rumble pointed at him with Detective Greatdeal tiny paws. Wukong gasped, he was the killer??? 

“What ?” Wukong mumbled, genuinely shocked. 

“Yes. You're just a tiny Inspector supervising this town, you staged this whole scene and made everything look as if Pr Shady did it to gain merit at solving this case!” Huffed Rumble with a tiny bit of pride. Wukong wanted to coo so badly. It was so cute! But he had a play to act. 

“You'll never catch me alive!” Shouted Wukong as he made his silly monkey doll run away. 

“Stop right this instant!” Shouted Rumble as he followed the tiny monkey doll and restrained it with his own plushie. 

“How could you?” Wailed Savage. “My darling moon was the apple of my eyes! For this, I sentence you!”

“You don't have the authority.” Gasped Rumble. 

“I in fact do. I hid myself for a long time but I am in truth the Emperor of leaves, that's why I got a crown.” Explained Savage, she took her plushie's paw and pointed to the leaves crown. “I sentence you to death by tickle!”

“Nooooooo”. Shouted Wukong. Both his cubs let go of their plushies and pounced on him to tickle him. Wukong shrieked. No. His tiny pups were so little they could slither under his shirt and tickle him! It was a nightmare to make them stop. The great sage rolled back and roared with laughter. 

His pups finally stopped after a half-hour of tearful laughter. They fell asleep on his fluffy chest. Satisfied after making their Pa cry with laughter. Wukong looked down at them with fondness. He could finally coo as much as he wanted. Macaque came back from his daily workout. For some reasons, his moon was hellbent on working out recently, trying to lift rocks and other heavy objects. Wukong didn't know why he started but he was supportive nonetheless. 

“You had fun?” Chuckled Macaque when he caught sight of the mess of dolls and the two pups snoring on his mate's chest. 

“Yeah.” Whispered Wukong, he petted the top of his cubs’ heads with the pad of his finger. 

He wouldn't mind playing Detective Greatdeal with them again.

+ cut scenes

Macaque : I need to workout to be able to lift my mate and kidnapp him!

Wukong : I don't know what's going but I'm cheering you on!! 😁

Fun fact : Savage use the pet name her dads use for each other (like moon) for her play pretend husband Mr Shady

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[shina913]

Scions, Ch.9 | Kim Line + JHS

Scions (series)

sci·​on | \ ˈsī-ən \ Definition: (1) a descendant (2) a shoot or twig, especially one cut for grafting or planting

✼Scions Masterlist✼

Pairing: Sister!Reader + Kim brothers; JHS x Fem!Reader; some POV shifts in scenes

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: ANGST!!!!!! Siblings!AU; Marriage!AU; Family!AU; FWB!AU; exes to ?; siblings' best friend; smut; fluff

Chapter warnings: heavy drama; references to character death (not the members); grieving/mourning; infidelity; references to pregnancy loss; allusions to smut but nothing explicit

Word count: 9.9k

Summary: Four grown siblings return to their childhood hometown after their father is declared to be terminal. They are forced to live under the same roof for days, along with their overbearing mother, to say their final goodbyes. It starts off nostalgic until some unresolved family issues along with an assortment of spouses, exes, and might-have-beens make things even more interesting.

A/N: I'm back (sort of)! I'm happy to have been able to revisit this story, this family, and this AU. There are many moving parts to this chapter--POV shifts over multiple scenes. To think this all happens in a span of 24hrs (in this AU) 😵‍💫

I want to say that this is the penultimate chapter, as this story is about to come to an end. Hopefully, it won’t take me another year to finish the finale 😬

Last year, my family experienced a loss. I channeled much of the emotions from that experience into this chapter. My hope is that you'll find it as cathartic to read as I found it to write.

If you’re still following along (after all this time), thank you for sticking around and I want you to know that I appreciate you🩵

“Would anybody care for some shots?” Taehyung asks nobody in particular after you all walk through the door.

Your mind lingers on what you witnessed before leaving the bar. Though drowning the memory with more drinks is tempting, you decide against it. “I’ve had enough for tonight, thanks,” you say. “If you guys are drinking more, can you please try to keep it down?” you ask your brothers as you head upstairs to check on your kids.

“Welp, since she’s out…” Taehyung looks at his brothers expectantly.

“Sure, pour me one,” Namjoon says.

Taehyung looks at Jin, who sighs and eventually acquiesces. “Okay, but only if we drink something better than that shit tequila from the cupboard!”

“Aww, but it’s tradition,” Taehyung whines. “And, if I remember correctly, it was you who introduced us to that shit tequila!”

“Not by choice!” Jin says wryly, glancing at Namjoon.

“Me? It’s not my fault I caught you sneaking around,” Namjoon retorts with a chuckle.

“Yeah, but then you got YN and him into it—ugh,” Jin groans. Realizing the argument is dampening the mood, he says, “Nevermind. The point is, I have something better!”

He walks up to one of the lower kitchen cabinets and retrieves an unlabeled bottle–no taller than seven inches–containing an amber-colored liquid.

Taehyung picks it up and holds it against the light, eyeing it curiously. “What is it?” he asks.

“A side project I’ve been working on,” Jin answers, his tone filled with quiet pride. “It’s a whiskey that I made using traditional methods. Namjoon gave me the idea for it a couple of years ago.”

A smile tugs at Namjoon’s lips as he recalls the night. Admittedly, it was more of a drunken suggestion than a moment of genius, but seeing Jin’s dedication to bringing it to life fills him with a sense of admiration.

Jin continues, “I finally figured out a great recipe.”

“Do you have a name for it?” Namjoon asks.

“For now, it’s ‘Number 20’—as in, it’s my 20th attempt,” Jin chuckles softly. As his laughter subsides, he turns wistful. “A few weeks ago, before he went to the hospital, Dad took a sip and…he suggested we sell it in small batches. He thought it had the potential to be something special.”

Namjoon and Taehyung go quiet, at the mention of your dad’s memory.

Jin clears his throat, in an attempt to keep the tone light. “Anyway, I can’t think of a better time to share it with my brothers.”

Taehyung carefully unscrews the cap of the bottle. He lifts the bottle to his nose and takes a sniff of its contents, his face immediately contorts in reaction. “Oof…the smell alone feels like it’s going to knock me out for the next couple of days,” he exclaims with a hearty laugh that echoes through the room. He then passes the bottle to Namjoon, whose expression quickly mirrors Taehyung’s grimace as the potent smell hits his nostrils.

Jin laughs at their reactions. “It’s a little concentrated, I know. Dad took a fat nap after we took shots.”

Smiling fondly, Taehyung looks at his older brothers. “What are we standing around for? Let’s grab some glasses!”

Namjoon retrieves three glencairn glasses from the cupboard and lines them up in front of his younger brother, who starts pouring.

“Okay-okay-okay, that’s more than enough!” Jin sputters, scolding Taehyung for his heavy-handedness. “Just go up to here.” He holds his finger up to the fullest part of the glass.

Taehyung snickers, takes the ‘overpoured’ glass for himself, and passes the other two to his older brothers. “The Kim brothers, together again,” he beams as he picks up his drink.

Namjoon smiles warmly at his younger brother’s sentimentality.

“Should we toast to anything?” Taehyung turns to Jin, who looks puzzled.

“What are you looking at me for? He’s the spokesperson of this family,” he points to Namjoon.

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “I think I’ve done enough speaking today, thanks.”

“Why don’t you say something, hyung? It doesn’t have to be deep,” Taehyung laughs.

“Why do we have to say anything at all? Can’t we just drink it?” Jin complains.

“I’m sure you have something in mind,” Namjoon coaxes. “Just say whatever feels right.”

Jin puffs his cheeks out and blows out a breath. He wasn’t poetic like Namjoon, nor was he tender-hearted like Taehyung.

He was ‘just Jin.’ The oldest brother, who took it upon himself to move back home after graduating college to help out in the family business; married his high school sweetheart and bought a house in the same neighborhood as his childhood home.

The one who constantly looked in on his retired parents while all of his siblings flew the nest to pursue opportunities away from home.

Shaking his thoughts away, he raises his glass, and his brothers mirror his gesture. “Alright, alright.” He clears his throat before continuing. “At the risk of sounding cheesy, I’d like to say that although this may not have been the best circumstance to bring us all together, I’m still glad that we’re all together. And I hope we can do this more often, even without dad or mom prompting us.”

Namjoon and Taehyung stare at Jin with goofy smiles on their faces.

He groans in mild annoyance. “See, I told you guys—”

“That was beautiful, hyung,” Taehyung remarks.

“I agree. Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Namjoon adds.

Jin’s ears turn red with a mix of embarrassment and pride as his brothers shower him with compliments. In his heart, he hopes that their beloved father, wherever he is, can see this moment.

“Cheers!”

His younger brothers clinked their glasses against his, then tilted them to their lips for a sip.

********

You’re in bed, tossing and turning. You feel tired, but sleep won’t come. You wish you had accepted Taehyung’s offer for a night cap. It might have helped subdue all the racing thoughts in your head and the emotions you’ve been feeling all day. From your dad’s memorial to the shock of Sam’s divorce filing.

That kiss…

You squeeze your eyes shut at the memory. Grabbing a pillow, hold it to your face, and muffle your frustrated groans into it. Then with a huff, you roll out of bed.

When you step out into the hallway, you pad your way to your parents’ bedroom first. You poke your head in to find your kids peacefully asleep with your mom. The sight of it is heartwarming, despite the chaos swirling in your head.

You head downstairs to the kitchen and make your way to a specific cupboard. There, hidden behind some condiments, you find the communal tequila bottle. This is the same bottle you and your brothers used to sneak sips from, always making sure to top it off to the marked level so your dad wouldn’t notice.

That was, until one fateful night when Taehyung not only left it out on the counter but also forgot to refill it. Your dad was furious, and Jin, being the noble brother he is, tried to take all the blame. Despite his efforts, the guilt got to all of you, leading to a group confession. In the end, instead of scolding you, your dad found it amusing. When Taehyung finally reached the legal drinking age, he decided to make it a family tradition, insisting on keeping the ritual of refilling the bottle.

You fondly stroke your thumb over the smudged marker on the bottle’s label, chuckling at the thought of this silly but beloved family inside joke.

You’re about to pour yourself a shot when something on the kitchen counter catches your eye—a bottle that is less than half-filled with some amber liquid. You unscrew the top and bring the bottle closer to your nose. It smells like whiskey, but a bit more fragrant than you’re used to. You decide to pour some into the cap and take a tentative sip. Convinced, you grab a glass from the cupboard and pour yourself a generous shot.

As you let the alcohol settle into your bloodstream, you glance out the kitchen window towards Hobi’s house, where the porch light is on. You blink and squint, trying to focus.

You pour yourself another hefty shot and toss it back, shuddering involuntarily from its potency.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but it almost feels like the porch light is glowing more brightly than usual, like it’s calling you. Before you know it, your feet, seemingly moving on their own, carry you across the street.

********

Despite your stomach churning, you do your best not to ruin the nice patch of azaleas next to you. You know you shouldn’t be here, especially not in this state. Nevermind that you’d already embarrassed yourself earlier this evening when you picked a stupid fight with Hoseok at the bar. To make matters worse, you kissed him!

However, as messy as you were, that kiss made you realize how much you missed that kind of intimacy and connection with someone. Then again, it also feels wrong to think about it, because it’s completely self-serving. Truth be told, you weren’t in a position to be selfish.

You groan from the pounding in your head, likely caused by whatever mystery alcohol you just had. If you ever remember anything from this evening, you make a mental note to ask Taehyung what the hell that was.

I should head back, you tell yourself, trying to hang on to the last bit of reason you have. You grab onto the iron handrail and manage to stand up, even though your legs feel like jelly.

And yet, you make no effort to move. It’s as if a part of you knows you still have unfinished business to handle, and that’s what’s keeping you here.

Seconds later, headlights round the corner. The intense brightness temporarily blinds you, so you shield your face. The car pulls into the driveway, coming to a stop right where you stand. The engine and lights shut off, and the driver’s side door slams in the quiet night.

As you lower your hand, you’re faced with your unfinished business standing in front of you. The tension between you is palpable, with years of unspoken words and repressed feelings threatening to spill out of you.

“I’ve got some leftovers from the bar. Want some?” Hoseok offers.

The mere thought of food makes you nauseous. You shift uncomfortably, seeking some form of stability, but nothing helps. Your surroundings start to spin, and just when you think you’re about to fall over, he rushes to your side to hold you upright.

“Okay,” he says with a light chuckle. “Why don’t we go inside and have a good hurl first, hm?”

********

Sitting in this kitchen felt…strange. The space had changed so much since you last remembered it that it seemed like an entirely different house.

Namjoon had told you that after Hoseok’s mom retired and bought a smaller apartment across town, he had transformed his childhood home into a bachelor pad of sorts.

The first floor’s layout felt more open now that the divider wall between the kitchen and living room had been knocked down. The plastic-covered plaid furniture was gone, replaced by more modern fixtures that complemented the interior’s neutral palette.

You wonder if the changes to this home mirrored the changes Hoseok himself had gone through the years.

“Want some more coffee?” He leaned on the kitchen counter, watching as you stared at the table. The family’s original dining table stood out as the only contrasting piece of furniture. It was the sole item he had kept from the ‘old house.’

This table was where you and your brothers had done homework while waiting for your dad to finish work, where they had hosted your family for countless dinners. It held memories of many conversations and laughs.

You glance at your mug and chuckle at his offer. “Thanks, but I’m good. I should get going soon.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to lie down for a bit?” He’s concerned, but doesn’t want to come across pushy.

That might help, but you worry that if you stayed any longer, you’d end up passing out for the rest of the night—and that probably wouldn’t be the smartest move for you, knowing your kids would be looking for you in the morning.

You shake your head, politely declining. “Thank you, though.”

“Alright. Just trying to be a good host, that’s all,” he says with a warm smile. “Guess this means your alcohol tolerance hasn’t changed. Still a lightweight, huh?” He jokes.

You roll your eyes. “Please,” you scoff, finishing your coffee. “I had a couple shots of unlabeled whiskey without knowing how strong it was. My body was just a bit shocked, that’s all,” you say defensively.

He gets up from his seat and moves towards you. You steel yourself as he leans in... to pick up your empty mug. “I’m only teasing. Sorry about that,” he smirks before walking away.

Smiling nervously, you massage your temple as he heads toward the sink.

Despite the seemingly lighthearted tone of this exchange, there’s still an undercurrent of tension. You can’t easily forget about this evening’s confrontation—it’s mainly why you stumbled here in your inebriated state. The other reason?

“Are you and Dara a thing?” The words tumble out before you know it.

The steady stream of water from the faucet is the only sound that fills the room while he mulls over your question.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you blurt out, regret washing over you. “I-I should leave.” You stumble to your feet, your legs unsteady, your head pounding as you make for the door. A nagging voice in you reminds you that, given your complicated history, you have no right to pry into his personal life.

“Was that why you were sitting on my front stoop, drunk, in the middle of the night?”

You freeze, your hand hovering over the door latch as his question lingers. Torn between the urge to flee and wanting answers, it gave you pause.

He calls out your name.

Slowly, you turn to face him, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Would you believe me if I said ‘no’?” you wince.

Hoseok chuckles wryly. “You know you can’t bullshit your way through this.”

There’s no turning back now. Shoulders slumping in defeat, you admit, “I saw you and Dara having a moment as my brothers and I were leaving Hangsang.” You shrug, adding, “Looks like you guys got closer over the years.”

He stands there, an unreadable look on his face as he processes your words. When you realize he was making no attempt to deny it, you come to a hasty conclusion. You couldn’t disguise the disappointment from your tone.

“So, it’s true? You and Dara are—”

“Were,” he corrects you. “Past tense.”

Hoseok had hoped he didn’t need to have this conversation with you, but since you brought it up, there was no point in avoiding it.

“She and I were intimate a few times, but it didn’t go beyond that." He clears his throat, expression softening as he moves from behind the counter towards you.

“We found comfort in each other. I was watching my dad fade away, and she lost her husband,” he trailed off. “It just…happened. But we’re not in any kind of relationship.”

“And you’re sure she understands that?” you ask, recalling how Dara had tenderly stroked Hoseok’s face.

“She does,” he replies. “I made it clear I couldn’t offer her anything more. I wasn’t in a good place emotionally, and I knew I wasn't ready to open my heart to anyone.”

His admission weighs on you, but you try not to dwell on it. After all, Hoseok is a grown man capable of making his own decisions.

“Thank you for being honest,” you say quietly, at a loss for words.

“You know I can’t lie to you. And I won’t, because I have no reason to. Besides,” he says, stopping mere inches from you, “as Dara put it, when I look at her, I see someone else.”

His gaze coupled with his proximity sets your pulse racing, and the room seems to shrink, filled with emotions you’ve tried to bury for years. His warm breath on your skin makes you want to close the gap between you.

“You’re it for me,” he says softly. “Without you, I was ready to spend the rest of my life walking around with a hole in my chest.”

His confession overwhelms you, causing a lump to form in your throat.

“Am I pathetic or what?” He chuckles wryly.

You shake your head. “Not in the least,” you say softly.

During a marriage counseling session, Sam said your love for him felt limited—contrived, even. You disagreed, insisting that having a second child proved your full commitment to him, which you genuinely believed at the time.

As time passed, you and Sam drifted apart. Returning to your hometown has only magnified the disconnect in your marriage. It's not that Sam is a bad partner; you just aren't fully present. A piece of you is missing, and that's what's keeping you from giving your all.

Now you realize what you've known all along—the person before you has always held that missing piece.

“It’s always been you, sunshine. Always.”

Your breath catches as you choke back a sob. “Hoseok,” you breathe out.

He cups your face, gently wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. His warmth envelops you instantly. He may call you “sunshine,” but he was always your source of light. You decided then that you were done hiding in the shadows, and it was time to step back into the sun.

You lean in and kiss him, pouring all your angst and pain into it. As your lips touch, it feels like no time has passed. The connection between you is still there, as strong as ever.

He tightens his grip on you with his free hand, pulling you closer until no space remains between you. You both move towards the living room. Eager and breathless, you stumble onto the couch—a tangle of limbs and ragged breaths. The outside world fades away as you lose yourselves in each other.

********

Jin heads back upstairs to his room after having a few drinks with his brothers. He opens the door to find his wife, Yoojung, sleeping peacefully in bed.

He leans against the doorframe, watching her chest rise and fall in even breaths. He thinks about how lucky he is to have somebody like her as his partner and how amazing she’s been over the past couple of weeks.

He strips off his clothes and crawls into bed, pausing to kiss her forehead before settling in.

She stirs, her hand blindly feeling around for him in the dark. When she finds him, she slowly opens her eyes, smiling drowsily.

“Hi,” she croaks out.

“Hi,” Jin answers. “Feeling any better?” She’d been under the weather for a few days.

“Yeah,” she replies.

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that to make me feel better? I can take you to see the doctor tomorrow.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I’m fine, really,” she insists. “I think the last few days just caught up with me.”

She’d been constantly on the go, shouldering the burden of caring for the entire household while the family grieved.

He strokes her cheek, feeling guilty about how much she’s done for his family. “I’m sorry. My siblings are here for a couple more days, and once they leave, we can go back to our own home. Back to peace and quiet,” he says with a hint of humor.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she reassures him, “but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward coming back to our own place.”

He goes in for another kiss, this one more intense than the first. His lips move against hers, tender and loving, showing how much he appreciates her without saying a word.

When they come up for air, they’re both breathless.

“Wow, what was that for?” she asks, her cheeks flushed.

“Just a thank-you for being the best,” Jin answers. “I know being around my whole family is chaotic, but I’m grateful that you’ve been so patient in putting up with them.”

Yoojung’s lips curve into a gentle smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I don’t put up with them. They’re my family, too. I was happy to take care of everybody.”

Jin’s chest swells with so much love for her. He caresses her cheek, saying, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Without me, you’d be stuck eating leftovers from the restaurant every day for dinner,” she jokes.

Jin throws his head back, laughing heartily. The alcohol has loosened his inhibitions. Yoojung quickly covers his mouth, shushing him to avoid waking the entire house.

“The kids are asleep,” she whispers harshly. “You need to keep it down.”

He can’t explain why, but her scolding turns him on. The alcohol seems to also have made him incredibly horny.

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrow quirks. “Why don’t you shut me up then?” He gives her a look—that same smoldering look that makes her core tighten in response.

Her breath catches, but she hesitates, mildly aware of how close their bedroom was to his parents’ room. Besides, her fertile window wasn’t for another day or two. “We can’t—”

“Please, yeobo…”

He moves closer, lowering his head to kiss her neck. Her lips part with a soft sigh when he begins to suck on the sensitive skin there.

Yoojung’s instinct is to reach for her phone to check her fertility app, but Jin’s neediness proves too irresistible for her to wait for her body to reach the ideal basal temperature. She was hot for him now.

Jin’s hand glides past her waist. She shifts slightly, hooking her leg on his waist, giving him better access as his fingers slips between her thighs.

Trying to stay quiet intensified their senses. Jin made Yoojung come twice. The first time, she sank her teeth into his shoulder to muffle her cries. The second time, she buried her face in her pillow while he groaned into her ear, reaching his own release.

It had been a while since they’d had sex purely for pleasure. The fertility treatments and constant focus on conceiving had turned these intimate moments into more of a chore, taking away the romance and passion.

Tonight was different. They savored each other, relishing every touch and sensation. Afterward, they lay together, content and happy.

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, “so much…”

“I love you, too,” she sighed softly before they both drifted off to sleep.

You and Hoseok lie together, bodies entwined, hands brushing over bare skin. You bask in each other's presence as time seems to stand still.

He brushes over the curve of your eyebrow with the tip of his finger, his touch sending a flutter through your chest.

"Do you ever wonder how things might have been between us?“

“Yes,“ you respond without hesitation. "It's embarrassing how often I've thought about it." A pang of guilt hits you. This admission feels unfair to Sam and your marriage, but you're only human. During arguments with him, you find yourself seeking comfort either in your children--or in thoughts of Hoseok.

”I'm not judging,” he reassures you.

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you lace your fingers with his, studying every groove and contour. Curiosity sparkled in his gaze as he asked, “What are you thinking about now?”

“That my hand fits perfectly with yours.” Something about him brings out all the cheesiness in you.

Intrigued, he leaned closer, tilting his head slightly. “Does it?”

Smiling, you brought his hand to your lips, brushing a tender kiss against his skin. The warmth from the sensation fills his chest, and without hesitation, he leans in for another kiss.

Even though you wish to stay like this all day, on his couch and wrapped up in his arms, daylight was peeking through his living window, much like the reality of the situation.

“I need to get back before Jooni wakes up looking for me,” you say with much reluctance.

At the mention of your daughter, Hoseok nods understandingly. He gives you space to disentangle yourself from him, his eyes following your bare form as you cross the room to retrieve the clothes he’d stripped off you earlier.

As you pull your top over your torso, you catch him watching your every move while you dress.

You pause, your face scrunching in amusement. “Can I help you with something?”

“Don’t mind me. I’m just enjoying the view.”

You gesture at your body. “Oh, you mean this old thing?”

“I don’t care. I love it. You’re beautiful.” He says it with so much reverence that it makes your heart flutters. You crouch down, gently stroking his cheek before kissing him.

You squeal in surprise as he grabs your waist and pulls you back onto the couch, onto his lap. You gaze down at him, taking in the sight of his tousled hair and sleepy eyes. He lies beautifully beneath you, not quite fully awake.

“Now this looks familiar…” he says playfully, his hands squeezing your thighs on either side of him. “It’s like déjà vu or something.”

You giggle at his teasing, resisting the urge to rock your hips against him. Earlier, your self-control had been far less restrained—non-existent, even. Memories flood your mind like a vivid highlight reel: echoes of pleasure-filled moans, fingertips tracing paths across sensitive skin, igniting sparks of arousal. It’s been ages since you’ve allowed yourself to be so completely swept up in the moment.

As difficult as it was to pull away from him, you find the strength. “Okay, I really, really need to go,” you murmur, suppressing a grin. You hop off him to finish dressing, then head to the bathroom to freshen up.

When you emerge, you find him sitting up. He’s pulled his bottoms on but his chest is still bare.

He raises his head, and you see a grave look on his face, worrying you.

“Hey… are you okay?” you ask, approaching him.

His gaze lingers on you—tracing your eyes, then your lips, then the curve of your cheek—as if he’s committing every feature to memory.

”What's wrong?” you ask again, growing more concerned.

“I’m scared that if you walk out that door, I won’t see you again,” he whispers. “But I know I can’t be selfish.”

Your impending divorce will undoubtedly complicate things, and you’re wary of clinging to false hope—for his sake and yours.

The reasonable thing to do is to return home, pretend last night never happened, and continue existing in your familiar reality.

After that final conversation with your dad, you decide you no longer want to merely exist—you want to truly live.

“We can afford to be selfish once in a while.” You brush your thumb across his lips, finally accepting the truth you’ve tried to escape for so long. “You’re it for me, too.”

You draw his mouth to yours and kiss him again. It feels right.

You run across the street, heart pounding furiously in your chest as you return from spending the night at Hoseok’s house. You peer through the kitchen window, checking if anyone’s awake—it seems early enough. Convinced the coast is clear, you slip in through the backyard’s side entrance to access the door that leads into the kitchen.

Unbeknownst to you, Jin enters the kitchen, coffee in hand, and settles at the counter to scroll through his emails. He’s in a fantastic mood—brought on by last night’s escapade and a hot wake-up call from Yoojung this morning.

His head whips around at the sound of the creaking door hinge. Amused, he watches you comically shut the door, trying your best to be stealthy. As you turn around, your heart leaps into your throat when you finally spot him.

“Ah! What the fu—” You clutch your chest.

“Well, good morning to you," Jin greets you, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

”Oppa...” you say carefully. You have no clue how much he's seen or how long he's been sitting there.

He can’t help but chuckle and take this opportunity to tease you. “I feel like I’ve just been transported back 15 years ago.”

You feel like a teenager again, caught sneaking around with Hoseok in the early days of your relationship.

Before you can come up with an excuse, the sound of feet shuffling announces the arrival of your children. Joobin and Jooni come down the stairs with your mom in tow.

“Mommy!” Jooni exclaims, running into your arms.

“Hi sweetie pie, good morning!” you reply, enveloping her in a warm hug.

Joobin, ever observant, asks, “Where were you? We woke up and you weren’t in the room.”

Thinking quickly, you make up a story.

“Well, uhm, I thought I heard a noise coming from the backyard, so I went downstairs to check on it.”

The kids, still curious, pepper you with more questions, but Jin comes to your rescue, deftly distracting them.

“Who wants pancakes?” he interjects.

The kids erupt in cheers, eagerly volunteering to assist their uncle in the kitchen.

You shoot Jin a grateful look, silently thanking him for the intervention. While the kids help him grab utensils and ingredients from the cupboards, your mom sidles up to you.

“Do I want to know where you’ve actually been?”

You make a beeline for the coffee machine. “It’s better you don’t,” you reply, in desperate need of caffeine.

As the pancake batter is mixed, Jin can’t resist one last playful jab. “Namjoon was right. You do get a great view of Hobi’s house from here,” he teases, leaving you to wonder how much he knows about your late-night activities across the street.

The kitchen is buzzing with morning energy when Taehyung trudges in. His hair looks like a bird's nest, and his eyes are barely open slits.

Jin couldn’t resist a little teasing. “Kids, say good morning to Uncle Tae!” he chirped.

Oblivious to their youngest uncle’s state, they shouted enthusiastically, “Good morning, samchyonie!”

Taehyung winced, his hands flying to his ears. “Heyyy kiddos…not so loud,” he croaks, his words slurring together. As he passes them to rummage through the cupboards, he plants a gentle kiss on top of each child’s head.

Jin’s trademark squeaky laugh filled the air. “Let’s keep it down, guys. Uncle Tae is hungover,” he explained, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Mommy, what’s ‘hungover’?” Jooni asks innocently.

You glared at Jin, which only made him laugh harder.

Joobin piped up, “Does that mean he’s drunk?”

Taehyung, summoning what little energy he had, corrected them. “It means I was drunk yesterday,” he says, dragging himself further into the kitchen until he finds the tea bags.

Jin couldn’t resist one more jab. “Actually, it seems like you’re still drunk right now,” he muttered under his breath.

“I heard that,” Taehyung grumbled, before turning his attention to you. “Is there any hot water ready for tea? And maybe some Tylenol or Advil?”

“Honey, did you check in my bathroom? I have plenty there,” your mom offers.

Taehyung shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m ready to go back in there yet.” The morning’s lighthearted mood shifts. Your mom’s face falls slightly, realizing he still can’t bear entering that room without thinking of your dad.

“I have some in my bag,” you offer. “Just check in my room.” Taehyung mouths his thanks and walks over to retrieve the pills from your purse.

********

Namjoon is startled awake by his phone buzzing. Groaning, he reaches for it along with his glasses. When he puts them on and sees the caller ID flashing on his lock screen, he picks up the call immediately.

“Vee?” He croaks.

“It's happening again!” her panicked voice rings out. “I'm bleeding...I’m going to lose the baby! What do I do?” she says over and over, sobbing uncontrollably.

Namjoon breaks into a cold sweat, instantly forgetting the pounding headache he woke up with. He sits up and keeps his voice even to calm her.

“Hey, listen to me. Let’s focus on your breathing, okay?” he says soothingly. “I’ll call an ambulance to the hotel, and I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

He knows it would be faster for her to go directly to the hospital rather than wait for him to pick her up.

“Do you understand?”

“I… Uh… yes...okay,” she agrees shakily, scrambling to gather her things.

“Hang in there, baby. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

She agrees with a whimper before the call ends.

As your children enjoy their breakfast, Jin and Taehyung’s playful banter continues. You can’t help but laugh at your brothers while sneaking a few bites from Joobin’s plate.

“I don’t think I can look at another bottle of whiskey again—especially those Jin-hyung concocted in his basement,” Taehyung groans as he massages his temples.

Your eyes widen at this revelation. Looks like you may have found the answer to the mystery alcohol you drank yesterday after all!

“It was not made in my basement,” Jin contests. “I partnered with a local brewer, so the casks are stored in their facility. It's artisan-level–”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Oh, excuse me–it’s a stranger’s basement whiskey then? Right, that sounds way more comforting.”

Jin puffs up indignantly. “It’s a craft spirit! There’s a difference. The process is—” he pauses, then puffs out a frustrated breath. “You know what? There’s no point in arguing with you. You’re impossible when you’re hungover.”

Taehyung grins triumphantly, taking another sip of his Bloody Mary that your mom made for him.

“Uncle TaeTae, can I try your smoothie?” Jooni wonders curiously.

Your mom shakes her head. “You don’t want that, darling. Only grown-ups who made bad decisions the night before can drink this special smoothie.”

“I’m happy to declare that I actually made some good decisions last night,” Taehyung says proudly.

Just then, you are startled by Namjoon’s heavy footsteps coming from the basement stairs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” he mutters repeatedly, nearly stumbling on his way to the front door.

Jin pops his head out into the hallway. “Whoa—where’s the fire?”

“It’s, uh... it’s Vee. She—I mean, the baby—the baby’s in trouble.” He’s frantically wrestling with his keys on the wall hanger until the entire thing crashes to the floor.

Taehyung rushes to help as Namjoon lets out a pained growl and buries his head in his hands in frustration.

“I don’t need to know all the details,” Taehyung says calmly. “Just tell me what I can do to help.”

“I need to go to the hospital. Now.” Namjoon answers as evenly as he can manage.

“Okay. I’ll drive—”

“You’re not going anywhere, Kim Taehyung! You just had a drink!” you scold him.

“Ah, shit,” Taehyung mutters, squeezing his eyes shut when he realizes this.

“It’s okay. I’m... I’m fine to drive. I’m fine,” Namjoon stutters.

Before Jin can volunteer, your mom appears at the foot of the stairs, wearing a coat over her pajamas. When did she even go upstairs? you all wonder.

“I’ll drive,” she announces, slipping on her sneakers by the front door.

“M-ma, I said I was okay. I can—” Namjoon’s protests are cut short as she snatches the car keys from Taehyung’s hand.

“No time to argue. Let’s go.” With determined strides, your mom marches out the front door, car keys jingling, and heads straight for her car in the driveway.

Namjoon is frozen in shock, his eyes darting between you and your brothers.

“Hello?!” Your loud voice not only jolts him back to reality but makes Taehyung and Jin flinch as well. “What are you waiting for? Go!” You practically shove his broad frame out the door.

With a grateful glance towards you and your brothers, he turns and hurries after your mom, anxious to face whatever awaits him at the hospital.

Once Namjoon arrives at the hospital, he runs toward the reception desk while his mom searches for parking.

“I’m here for Victoria Lee.”

Before the nurse searches her system, she asks, “And what is your relation to the patient?”

“I’m her, uh—” Namjoon hesitates, his breath catching. He quickly recovers, stating more firmly, “I’m her husband.” With their divorce papers still in process, this is technically and legally accurate.

The nurse eyes him suspiciously and asks for his name and identification, which Namjoon provides. Once she enters his information, she verifies that Namjoon is listed as Victoria’s emergency contact.

She hands his identification back to him. “Thank you, Mr. Kim. Just take the elevators up to the 3rd floor and she’ll be in room 9.”

Just as he utters his thanks, his mom walks through the sliding doors and they head up together to where Victoria was.

********

When Namjoon walks through the door, he sees Victoria on a slightly reclined bed. Her hospital gown is bunched up under her chest, exposing a subtle swell on her belly just below her navel.

She sees him, a mixture of shock and relief washing over her face.

“Joon!”

“Hey.” He rushes to her side and unwittingly gives her a quick peck on the lips. It catches them both by surprise. Namjoon apologizes under his breath but is interrupted by the doctor, who has just entered the room.

“Hi, are you the dad?” The doctor asks.

Namjoon nods.

“Great! I’m Dr. Yoon,” the doctor introduces himself. “You’re just in time for the ultrasound.”

“Ultrasound?” Namjoon asks, his voice laced with apprehension. The last time he looked at an ultrasound screen, it brought bad news.

“Yep,” the doctor responds. “This is going to be a little cold,” he warns Victoria before squeezing a bluish-green gel on her stomach. He turns back to grab the transducer probe off the hook, then begins to slide it over her belly. His free hand programs some settings onto the control panel until the screen comes to life.

Namjoon and Victoria hold their breaths in anticipation.

The doctor moves the probe to a different position to get another visual. It looks static from their viewpoint.

“Now, if I can just find the heartbeat, here,” the doctor mumbles.

“What if there’s no heartbeat?” she whispers shakily, eyes pooling with tears.

“Sshh,” he says, squeezing her hand gently. “Let’s not jump to conclusions yet. Give it some time.”

She begins to whimper. “I can’t believe this is happening again. What’s wrong with me?”

At that moment, Namjoon decided to reach for a white lie. “It’s all going to be fine, okay? Trust me.”

He didn’t know that for certain, of course, but the reassuring look he gave her was convincing enough to calm her down. In a way, it calmed him down too.

“Okay, let’s keep our voices down,” the doctor interrupts. “I’m having a hard time picking up anything on the monitor.”

Following the doctor’s instructions, he turns a knob on the control panel. Seconds later, a whooshing sound fills the room through the speakers. The baby’s heartbeat is strong and steady.

Namjoon and Victoria gasp in surprise and relief.

“Ah, there we go!” the doctor exclaims, pointing to the static blob wiggling on the screen.

“That’s—woah...” Namjoon stares in awe at the little bean flickering on the monitor.

“Oh my god,” Victoria whispers. She tearfully glances up at him with a small smile. It dawns on her that this is Namjoon’s first time seeing the baby’s scan.

“Wow,” he says again, completely at a loss for words.

“Music to my ears, and yours too, I’m sure,” the doctor smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. The rhythmic whooshing sound continues to fill the room and Namjoon can’t help but return the smile, feeling an unexpected rush of emotion.

The doctor carefully repositions the probe, gliding it across Victoria’s gel-covered belly with ease. His eyes remain fixed on the monitor as he meticulously checks the baby’s vital organs and physical features, occasionally pausing to take measurements or adjust the angle for a clearer view.

After a few more minutes of observation, Dr. Yoon leans back with a satisfied nod. “Spotting aside, your baby appears to be doing just fine.” Hearing this, both Namjoon and Victoria visibly relax.

The doctor presses a few more buttons and prints out several images. “Here we go,” he says, detaching the sonogram printout and handing it to them.

They take the images from the doctor and gaze fondly at the picture of their baby.

“I’ve reviewed your bloodwork,” Dr. Yoon adds, “and noticed your progesterone levels are a bit low. I can prescribe something to help with that and so we can keep you and your baby safe. Sound good?”

As the doctor continues discussing the treatment plan, the door bursts open.

“Sorry, sorry! I got here as fast as I could. The GPS—”

Jaxon’s entrance instantly shatters the joy and euphoria Namjoon had been feeling. “Ah, fuck….”

Namjoon turns to her, his anger brimming. “You called him?”

Before discovering she was bleeding, Jaxon had already planned to meet Victoria at the hotel. In the midst of the emergency, she’d texted him about going to the hospital.

“Shit—Jax,” she utters in horror then turns back to Namjoon, trying to cobble up an explanation. “I—this isn’t—”

Namjoon rises from her bedside, anger bubbling in his chest. “No, no, no,” he says, shaking his head. “I can’t do this. I don’t even know why I came here...”

“I’m sorry, what’s going on here? Who are you?” Dr. Yoon asks, pointing to Namjoon.

“I am her husband!”

“And that makes you...?” Dr. Yoon turns to Jaxon.

“The guy my wife cheated on me with,” Namjoon said through gritted teeth.

Mortified, Victoria tries to plead with him. “Joon, please. Let’s not ruin this moment—”

Namjoon is incredulous. “I’m ruining the moment?” All the warm, sentimental feelings Namjoon had after seeing the sonogram vanish, were replaced by the contempt he felt when Victoria arrived unannounced to tell him about the pregnancy.

Jaxon, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, chooses this moment to interject. “Look, man, I had no clue–”

“Un-fucking-beliveable!” Namjoon growled.

Seeing the panic and distress on his patient’s face as she tries to calm both men, Dr. Yoon intervenes. “Alright! Both of you—out—now!” he says sternly. “I can’t have my patient under this kind of stress.”

Namjoon looks at Victoria. She drops her eyes to her hands, not arguing. It takes all of his energy to rein in his anger.

This isn’t the time or place, he says to himself. Squaring his jaw, he sidesteps Jaxon on his way out the door.

********

Lina rises from her chair when Namjoon arrives in the waiting area, his face contorted with rage.

“Honey, how is she? How’s the baby?” she asks, her voice tinged with worry.

“She’s fine,” Namjoon replies curtly. “Let’s go.”

“Wha—is she stable?” His mom, confused by his behavior, tries to piece things together. “What happened?”

“Ma, please!” He snaps.

Sensing his distress, she doesn’t push further and follows him toward the exit. As they stand before the bank of elevators, a voice calls out to Namjoon.

“Namjoon! Namjoon, wait up!”

He ignores it, but his mom glances past his shoulder, recognizing the man calling out.

“I hate these fucking elevators,” Namjoon mutters as he repeatedly jams his finger on the button until the doors finally open.

“Joon, Joon—wait!”

They both hurry inside, but a hand wedges between the closing doors, forcing them apart.

Namjoon curses under his breath as Jaxon steps in, attempting conversation. “Bro, I swear, I didn’t expect you to be here. Vee and I were supposed to meet up and—”

Namjoon’s mom looks on as he seethes within the cramped space. Though he could easily silence Jaxon with his fist, he restrains himself.

When the doors open to the lobby, Namjoon pushes past Jaxon, who is right on his tail, yapping away, badgering him for a response.

“C’mon, man—I’m trying to extend an olive branch here and you’re just shitting on it. I thought we were friends, bro?”

Namjoon turns around with a menacing glare. Jaxon’s words strike a nerve in him. They had indeed been friends and artistic partners once. But Namjoon knew Jaxon’s true nature all too well. The worst part of Victoria’s infidelity was that despite his warnings about Jaxon’s toxic behavior, she still chose to betray him. It was like getting stabbed in the back with a rusty knife and twisting it repeatedly for good measure.

“Jaxon, why don’t you take the hint and stop following him,” his mom interrupts, stepping between the two men. “He clearly doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Hospital security begins to approach, drawn by the commotion.

“And who the fuck are you, lady? Barking orders here like you’re the boss of me?” Jaxon yells. In his narcissistic haze, he’s forgotten Namjoon’s mom’s face, despite having met her a few times before.

Fully aware that this is the same asswipe who contributed to her son’s marital breakdown, she cocks her head and replies coolly, “I am his mother, and you are not allowed to speak to me that way!”

“Or what?”

One thing about Lina Young: if challenged, she would most definitely would rise to it.

Without hesitation, she balls her hand into a fist and throws a punch—the large gemstone on her ring landing squarely on Jaxon’s surgically enhanced nose. He lets out a pathetic whimper, clutching his face.

Namjoon’s jaw drops, his hand flying up to cover his mouth. He barely suppresses a guffaw as he watches his mom shake out her hand while security rushes to break up the commotion.

She raises her hands as they attempt to escort her. “I can walk myself out, thank you,” she says, straightening her coat. Reverting to her usual classy demeanor, she exits the building as if she hadn’t just made a man—a whole foot taller and 30 years her junior—cry.

Namjoon bends down to pick up her watch and bracelet, which she’d dropped in the scuffle.

“You’re just going to let your mom hit me?” Jaxon shouts as nurses tend to him.

“You bet I am! She’s a good shot, too,” Namjoon retorts, laughter echoing through the doors as he follows his mom to the parking lot.

Your mom smiles warmly from her seat at the dining table, watching Jooni hand an ice pack to you.

“Thank you, my darling girl,” she says to her granddaughter, wincing as you press it against her bruised hand.

When she and Namjoon arrived home, he led her straight to the kitchen to nurse her hand. Naturally, your children asked what was wrong with halmeoni. Namjoon quickly came up a wild story about her punching a vending machine when her chocolate bar got stuck.

“Halmeoni, please be careful next time. Daddy says you’re not supposed to hit the machine if your candy gets stuck. You have to call a worker to help you,” Joobin says, showing concern for her swollen hand.

“Thank you, Joobinie. I will remember that next time,” your mom replies sweetly.

You tell them to move to the backyard and continue playing, but not before Jooni gives her hand a light kiss before running off.

Once the kids are out of earshot, you decide to get the facts. “Care to tell me what really happened?”

Namjoon relays the events from the hospital, which ended with your mom sucker-punching Jaxon.

You gasp in horror and disbelief. “Oh my god, ma?!”

“What?” she says innocently, not seeing the problem. “It's not like he didn't deserve it! Besides, I never liked that piece of shit coming to my house anyway. I knew he was trouble, so he had it coming!”

You and Namjoon stare at her wide-eyed.

She rolls her eyes at both of you. “Oh, come on! You kids didn’t get your potty mouths from your father, that’s for damn sure.”

Before you can argue, you hear Jooni yelling for you from outside. You excuse yourself to check on what the kids might be arguing about this time. On your way out, you poke Namjoon in the ribs and mouth, “Promise you’ll tell me later?”

Namjoon gives you a nod, before you run out to check on your kids.

They enjoy a few moments of silence until Namjoon, who was standing before, moves to take a seat.

“Here, let me.” He takes the ice pack from her and presses it to her hand. She smiles fondly, watching him dote on her, as it was a rare sight.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he mumbles, peering up at her.

“You know, I used to do my own stunts back in the day,” she quips, eliciting a laugh from him. She loved seeing the dimple in his cheek deepen. It mirrored her own on the opposite side.

As they settle into a comfortable silence, the gears in Namjoon’s mind continue to spin. She removes her hand from beneath the ice pack to take off her ring, hoping to ease more of the soreness and swelling. His gaze shifts to the jewelry she sets down on the table—a solitaire emerald symbolizing his parents’ 35-year anniversary.

He recalls the day his father proudly showed him the ring before giving it to her. It was the same year she stepped back from her acting career, coinciding with his diagnosis, only known between them.

Though it seemed like an extravagant piece, his father insisted on gifting it to her. “It’s perfect,” he’d said. The ring not only represented their deep love for each other, but also symbolized growth and new beginnings—a celebration of their marriage as it truly deserved.

It made Namjoon reflect on his own marriage. “Mom?” He pauses, wondering if this is an inopportune time to talk about his thoughts.

“What is it, hun?”

He takes a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “When you were away for work, did…” He trails off, the words catching in his throat.

She waits patiently, her eyes filled with concern. “…Yes?”

Finally, he musters the courage to continue. “Did you ever think about cheating on dad?”

Her eyes widen, clearly taken aback. “Oh…”

Immediately regretting his question, he backpedals. “Fuck, I’m sorry. That was completely out of line,” he shakes his head, mentally kicking himself. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Despite her initial shock, his mom’s expression softens as she realizes that his recent experiences with Victoria have left him questioning things.

“No, no. That’s...” She clears her throat, composing herself. “It’s a fair question. I understand why you’d ask.”

“No, it was a dumb question. I’m sorry,” Namjoon stutters, his eyes dropping to the floor in embarrassment and regret.

She regards him silently, taking in his pained expression. She thought about her answer carefully, hoping that whatever he says would help him work out his feelings.

“Well,” she begins after a few beats, “when you’re away for long stretches, fatigue and loneliness can set in. One might think that’s a recipe for disaster. But your dad and I were always open about our feelings. I think our constant communication gave us both reassurance and eased much of the loneliness we felt. So, to answer your question—no, cheating never crossed my mind.”

Namjoon found himself questioning every aspect of his relationship. For months, he replayed conversations and actions from the past year, scrutinizing them for any misstep that might have driven his wife to cheat.

“I don’t know Victoria’s reasons, and I don’t care to. You’ve made your decision, and I’m not going to complicate things further.”

He sighs wearily. As you reminded him not so long ago, he didn’t do “complicated.” He avoided the road less traveled and always stayed on course.

“Sometimes I think about the past year, replaying things in my head,“ Namjoon says, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought I was being a good husband—I provided for her, fully supported her career, and never made her feel suffocated. I showed and told her every day how much I loved her.“

He looked up at his mom, who listened to him intently as he poured his heart out.

“I can’t seem to figure out at what point she decided I wasn't enough.“

Her heart breaks watching Namjoon’s broad shoulders slump, his tall frame reduced by the weight of his frustration. She reaches up with her uninjured hand to run her fingers through her second-oldest son’s hair. It’s the first chance she’s had to console him since he revealed his divorce to the rest of the family.

“Namjoon,” she begins softly, “when you love someone long-term, it means witnessing and mourning their many versions. People change, outgrowing their old selves or dreams they once had. It’s normal to miss those old versions and wish they would stick around—because those versions made us happy. We don’t get to choose when or how they change, but we can choose to walk with them and learn to embrace whatever version they decide to be.”

Namjoon gazes at her intently. These were the kind of talks he typically had with his father.

“That sounds like something dad would say,” he says with a gentle smile.

“Oh honey, that was all me,” she says with a playful touch of pride. Turning serious once more, she adds, “Somebody who loves you unconditionally will choose to stick around for all those versions of you.”

Namjoon’s mood turns sullen, suddenly regretting all the years he felt he needed to be angry at his mother.

“I’m sorry for being unfair to you for a long time, eomma. I…” his voice wavers as he’s caught between remorse and resentment toward the women in his life.

His mother wished, at that moment, that she wasn’t dwarfed by his 6-foot-tall frame and she could pick him up and hold him like she used to when he would fall over and bruise himself.

It’s been a long time since Namjoon allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of her. Since his teen years, he’s been closed off and aloof. But all this time, she’s waited patiently for him to let his guard down.

She cradles his cheek in her hand. “Shh…” she says soothingly. “I want you to know that I have been and will always be here for every version of you.”

He gazed at her with sad eyes. These were times when he typically relied on his father, who was always there to help Namjoon get back on track. For years, his mom had longed for the opportunity to offer that same support.

Without a second thought, she stood and wrapped him in a warm embrace. It marked a turning point in healing their own relationship.

Finding comfort in her arms, he finally lets go of all his pent-up frustration and grief.

After putting the kids to bed, things begin to settle down. Your hangover is finally beginning to dissipate.

You walk downstairs to get a drink of water when you notice the door leading to the backyard is ajar. You go to close it but pause when you see someone sitting on the deck.

You step out and join Taehyung, who looks up from his wine glass, mid-sip.

“Back for more, huh?” You nod at his drink.

He chuckles as you take a seat next to him.

“You know, I didn’t bring an unlimited supply of Advil in my purse,” you joke.

“I know, noona. This is just a little something to help me fall asleep.”

You hum skeptically. “As long as you don’t overdo it. Otherwise, you’ll have to go into mom’s medicine cabinet to get more meds for your hangover.”

He nods, giving a half-hearted smile at your remark, then continues to stare off into the distance.

You study your him for a moment. Despite him joking around today, you know him well enough to recognize when he’s masking his true feelings. It’s clear to you, based on his comment this morning about avoiding your parents’ room, that he’s grappling with something deeper than he’s letting on.

“Do you want to talk?” you ask, your voice soft and encouraging.

His shoulders tense and his gaze drifts downward as your question hangs in the air.

“I don’t know if that would help,” he says quietly.

You were all reeling from your father’s death and dealing with it in different ways, but Taehyung seemed to be taking it the hardest.

“I don’t know either, but there’s no harm in trying, right?”

He doesn’t respond, so you don’t push him. “Or I could just sit here with you until you feel sleepy.”

He chews his bottom lip, wrestling with his thoughts. Finally, he puffs out his cheeks, letting out a long sigh. “I can’t even go into his room,” he says. “I—” His voice cracks, making him curse under his breath.

His pain tears you to pieces. You rub soothing circles on his back, feeling his body tremble with each heart-wrenching sob.

“I wish I could have saved him,” he croaks, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I feel like shit for not doing anything.”

By the time you discovered your dad’s illness, it was already terminal. There was nothing any of you could have done apart from making him feel comfortable and loved during the last few moments of his life.

“We all wished we could have done something, but it was out of our hands,” you say, your eyes brimming with tears at his raw emotion.

“I just…” he choked out, “can’t believe I’m never going to see him again. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay with that.”

Coming to terms with your father’s absence would be an uphill battle. Yet, knowing him, he’d be heartbroken to know that he was the reason for your sadness.

Swallowing hard, you gathered your strength to ease your brother’s pain.

“It’s okay not to be okay,” you begin to say, “But you know, we had 30-something years with him. If we were sad all the time, it would be as if those years he gave us meant nothing. The best way to honor his memory is to try our hardest to live well and be happy. And I believe that’s what he would have wanted.”

Taehyung’s tear-filled eyes meet yours. “But that seems so impossible,” he laments softly.

The idea of moving forward and carrying on with life seems unimaginable—and admittedly, it feels that way for you, too.

From this point on, whenever you make one of your dad’s dishes or Taehyung plays one of his records, that wound will reopen, just when you think it has healed.

The pain of loss never truly goes away. There will be dark days and there will be bright days. You learn to coexist with it. Just when you think you’ve made progress, you might find yourself back at square one.

Grieving is an ongoing process and there’s no right or wrong way to do it. What makes it bearable is having people to lean on.

“And that’s when you pick up the phone and call me,” you reply ruefully, “as long as you’ll let me call you when I’m struggling.”

He nods, a hint of a smile crossing his face, as he agrees to be there for each other through the ups and downs. “Of course,” he adds softly, reaching out to give your hand a gentle squeeze.

You wrap your arm around him and pull him close. He instinctively rests his head on your shoulder. Together, you sit and stare at the starry night sky, hoping your father is looking down on you both with pride.

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @roaminginthenights @majamarantha @ayoo-bangtan @noelleydances @carriereadsbooks

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Thank you for reading!

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[oshinohoshi]

Oshi no Ko Ch 164 Thoughts

I don't know what the return policy is on manga chapters but I'd like to return this chapter and ask for a new ending

I have reasons beyond "I hate this because it depresses me" but honestly I fucking hate it because it depresses me

Aqua died smiling. Great. He also died horribly in graphic detail. It's impactful, sure, but it also felt gratuitous. Maybe I'm just sensitive but it was awful to read

This arc is called "Toward the Stars and Dreams." I guess Akasaka was being clever and he meant nightmares

Akasaka said in a conversation with Mengo that he wanted to portray despair:

A: I guess the emotions I want to show are the pain of living and despair. M: Aka-sensei, are you in despair? A: I live with hope! M: But... What you want to depict in the manga is despair? A: Hope and hopelessness are two sides of the same coin, and that's what I want to show. M: So, what you're trying to depict is a form of hope? A: To make a star shine you have to put them in a dark place.

But I never viewed OnK as a story primarily about despair. If hope and hopelessness are flip sides to a coin, Ai's death portrayed that a lot better

Aqua's is a poor imitation. Deciding your life's worth is to die needlessly for your loved one is not the same as experiencing deep regret mixed with the relief of learning in your final moments that you loved like you always longed to

Aside from Ai and Hikaru, the characters generally got happy endings even if they had to go through hell first

I thought the story was moving towards a slightly bittersweet ending where Aqua finally took a step towards healing and living for himself. I didn't think Ai would have said, "I love you" to her kids if this whole thing was gonna end horribly

Boy do I feel like a clown

Maybe it would be more palatable if Aqua had died for revenge. I'd still have issues with it in terms of expectations, but at least the murder-suicide of a victimized individual wouldn't be framed as self-sacrifice

Can we all just agree that Aqua was NOT born to protect Ruby?

And if we had to go this route, couldn't the loose plot threads have at least been resolved first?

It really sucks that Ai's wishes for her kids to be happy and for Hikaru came to naught. It all seems so pointless now

I guess if there's one thing I can say that isn't bitterly complaining, it's that this chapter made me depressed for nearly a week since the leaks came out. If OnK wasn't something special to me I wouldn't care so much, you know?

Aside from the Aqua panels, I don't know which are the most psychologically damaging. I think it's a tie between Akane collapsed on the shore dressed to the nines, Ruby smiling while signing something for a little girl in a bow, and Miyako's face

The below panels hurt like hell now:

Although there's no way we'll have time to properly touch on the guilt Miyako is likely to feel so just throw it in the bin with every other offscreen moment from the last couple arcs

Everyone gets to be miserable but only for 2 chapters so they better be quick about it

Next chapter: Ruby won't kill herself unless Akasaka has committed to the worst possible ending in which case I'll have to declare him a genius with a vision that was simply too advanced for my puny mind to comprehend.

Instead, we'll time skip to Ruby taking her son, Aqua Ai Hoshino-Narushima, to the Hoshino family grave to pay respect to his namesakes. Then Hikaru, who managed to secure a nearby plot, will rise from the dead, do a fancy coat flip, and moonwalk away.

Man, I really am depressed about this ending though.

[startswith0]

Ch313

I love this part. Before this Haibara hadn't really talked to Ran herself (Idr if the ch when Conan was shot is before or after this. I tend to skip out of interest and then go back again lol) and she was referring to her as 'that detective agency girl'.

For me it felt like she didn't really want to know Ran herself,

probably because of her mixed feelings about Shinichi always wanting the antidote to change to meet Ran--that this normal civilian girl has some kind of hold on Shinichi, the genius detective

maybe she felt like it's a waste to know another person who could jeapordize them being in hiding

or maybe it's Haibara's way of protecting her bubble. She's never been particularly friendly unless she had to be, and the only ones we see her interacting have always been the prof., the kids and Shinichi, and the less people she knew or knew her the better

Haibara also seems to understand how upsetting it'll be for Ran if she knows about Shinichi and the BO danger

Anyway, I think it's cute. It's like a territorial cat finally letting another friend inside her bubble and Ran passed the test or sumn like that 🌸🍇

[milkbreadtoast]

Cookie Run Webtoon EN TL

NEED TO SHARE THIS HERE... A few days ago Korean cookie run fandom was buzzing because 3 chs of an official cookie run webtoon had been uploaded... the pages have since been taken down (there's speculation that they might've been released too early by mistake??) BUT someone archived them so they can still be read!! And I did a (rough) english translation of all 3 chapters!!! (it was fun🥺 pls enjoy)

(Link to Ch 1) (Link to Ch 2) (Link to Ch 3)

CH 1:

note: Roguefort cookie's name in Korean(괴도맛 쿠키) is literally Phantom Thief(mysterious thief) flavor Cookie, and this 괴도 is the same thing Kaito Kid from Detective Conan is called (괴도 키드)

--

huhuhu...

(clink/jangle)

🌶:Yep, I really am a genius.

🌶: uhaha! instead of robbing a bank, it's much faster and easier to just rob bank-robbers, ya know~!

🌶:With this, my bounty will go up another level...

(chattering)

🌶: what, what's going on? (suddenly)

Reporter: As for Roguefort cookie's previously announced target, a 60 carat Yellow Diamond:

This jewel has been passed down from the Golden Cheese Kingdom for generations, and is said to be a symbol of good fortune, bringing(lit: wishing for) prosperity and longevity to the nation.

🌶: (Hmm, that's a puny gem.)

The jewel's owner adds that they will compensate the cookie who captures Roguefort Cookie, a payment of 1,000,000 coins as a reward to whoever captures this phantom thief...

(jolt)🌶: (A million coins?!)

🌶: (Then Roguefort cookie's bounty is higher than mine, isn't it!!) (1000000 vs 700000)

🌶: (THAT'S UNACCEPTABLE!!)

🌶: (I'll have the pride of a thief and steal it first!!)

(Title:) Who is the best thief?

Ep 1: Who is the best thief?

-That night

(footsteps)

🌶: WAIT, YOU THERE! (suddenly)

🌶: I heard the yellow diamond was at this mansion. Know where it is?

butler: (EEP) ch, chili pepper cookie?!

butler: This is a very tightly guarded place, How in the world did you get in?

🌶: Psh, this is mere child's play to me. (lit: chewing gum)

butler: I'm calling the guards/security.

🌶: ......

🌶: What are you doing? Roguefort Cookie. (pause)

Roguefort🧀: A sloppy disguise, I suppose.

Roguefort🧀: ...How did you know?

🌶: A thief's intuition?

🧀: Haha... how interesting.

To think you'd see through my disguise. (riiip)

🧀: Then I guess you're also aware that I have the jewel with me.

🌶: WHAT?!

🌶: HAND IT OVER RIGHT NOW!

GHH! (whish) (whish)

🧀: I wonder if you can catch me?

I am the best phantom thief who has never been caught to this day, after all~ ^^

🌶: Don't make me laugh, I'M the best!!

🧀: (heh) If so...

🧀: How about we admit that the cookie who steals this jewel is the best thief? (sparkle)

🌶: Heh, think I won't be able to snatch it from ya?

🌶: You'll end up regretting this.

🧀: We shall see.

WAIT!

!!! (pause)

(🌶) You?! Cheesecake Cookie?!

🌶: This place is your mansion too?;; (Just how many mansions do you have?!)

🧀: How did you know we were here?

Cheesecake🧀🍰: With all this terrible noise you've been making, wouldn't it be weirder to not know~?

Cheesecake🧀🍰: Apparently, it seems like you want to distinguish who is the best thief between you, but...

🧀🍰: Haven't you two already stolen all the decent treasures anyway?

Try stealing something a bit more difficult~

🌶&🧀: more difficult?

(grin) 🧀🍰That's right. If you're a real thief...

🧀🍰: How about trying to steal someone's heart?

🌶&🧀: !!!

(end of ch1)

-----

LINK TO CH 2:

CH2:

cheesecake🧀🍰: How about trying to steal someone's heart?

🌶: someone's... whuh?

RF🧀: Heart. someone's heart.

🌶: What's so great about stealing someone's heart?

🧀🍰: Stealing something tangible is too easy~

Why, don't think you can do it?

(frantically/fiercely) 🌶: WHADDYA MEAN!!

🧀🍰: And you, Roguefort?^^

RF🧀: (Heh) ...Seems like it'll be interesting. Though stealing someone's heart is also too easy for me...

🧀🍰: huhu~ Good, good!

🧀🍰: Then make sure both of you come back here at the same time again tomorrow!

I'll explain the details then~

(slide)

🌶: ...an invitation to a ball?

(creak/screech/squeal)

(footsteps)

🌶: (Where's Cheesecake?)

🧀🍰: Oh my~ Welcome, Chili!

🌶: What about Roguefort?

🧀🍰: Roguefort already arrived first and got started~ (hoho~)

🌶: WHAT?!

🌶: They beat me to it?! I gotta start quickly too, who's my target!?

🧀🍰: Wait, before that- (snap)

🧀🍰: Let's get you changed first!

🌶: GUH? (grab)

🧀🍰: Take her to the dressing room~ (what is that state you're in?)

🌶: WHAT THE, LET ME GO-!!

(thump, crash)

UWAAAGH!!!

(title: Who is the best thief?)

🌶:Ugh...!

🌶: What the hell is this!

🌶: guaah!! This dress is too stuffy/suffocating!! (creak creak)

🧀🍰: Oh my, is that so?

🧀🍰: Hold on-- Now where would my new Chocolaté Collection be... (toss toss)

🌶: ...By the way

What are you two doing here?

🥛: A part time job!

🥛: I have to buy Dark Choco-nim's goods, you see~ (hehe!)

💪: They released new protein, so I need money! (flex)

🌶: Ah...

🧀🍰: Chili! Try this on~

🌶: Phew, I think I can live now~!

🧀🍰: It suits you well~

🧀🍰: Here, take this.

🌶: What's this? ??

🌶: A mask?

🧀🍰: Tonight is a masquerade ball, you see.

🧀🍰: Your target is wearing a cat mask.

Between the two of you, the cookie who wins their favor first will win.

🌶: How would we prove that we won their favor?

🧀🍰: You just have to receive and bring back one of their things as proof/indication of winning. (You musn't steal it!)

🧀🍰: I already told Roguefort the same thing, so you should probably get going right away?

🌶: (WHAT?!) YOU SHOULD'VE SAID THAT EARLIER!

🌶: (A cat mask she said... where in the world are you?)

🍮iii: Can't I hold that for a sec?

🧙: No.

🍮iii: just once~!

🧙: No-!!!

🌶: Excuse me...

🌶: By any chance, have you seen a cookie wearing a cat mask around here?

🍓: ! (gasp)

🍓: Huh? Uh...

I, I... (th, that...)

🍓: I-I saw someone that way... (blush~) (note: speaking formally)

🌶: (whish) Ah, thanks!

🍓: 😳.....

🍮iii: trade with meee~!

🧙: I said no!!

🌶: ! (Over there!!!)

(loud footsteps)

RF🧀: ...So as I was saying...

🌶: Hi! Nice to meet you! (whack!) (shove)

🌶: For you to play dirty and go first...

(bzzzt)

(LET'S SEE WHO EMERGES THE WINNER!!!)

🐱:?

(/ch 2 end)

------

LINK TO CH 3:

CH3:

🌶: ghh...

🌶: (I butted in all confidently but...)

(awkward) 🌶: (what the heck should I say?)

🧀: The moon is flying unusually high tonight... It must be because she is jealous of your beauty.

🐱: Oh my! 🌶(dripping down)

🌶: (Are they crazy?) (I can't say something cringey like that!!)

🍮: 'scuse me!

🌶: Huh?

🍮: She said she's got something to say to you!

🍓: U-um, well...

🍓: I-if it's okay with you... May I have this dance? (lit: will you dance 1 song with me?) (note: speaking very formally)

🌶: No, I...

🐱: My, you musn't refuse an invitation to dance, you know.

Please go on ahead! (lit: go and come back)

(zoned out)

🌶: (Dammit, I can't just leave Roguefort alone like this though-!!)

🌶: At this rate, I'm gonna lose..!

🍓: U-um, excuse me, by any chance...

🍓: Could it be that you didn't want to dance, but reluctantly agreed and forced yourself to for my sake...? (lit: ...pointlessly because of me, reluctantly came out)

🌶: Ah, it's not like that

🌶: To be honest, I don't really know how to dance. Today is my first ball, ya see.

🍓: I-is that so?!

🍓: Wh-what should we do, It's my first too tho...

🍓: I'm so sorry for making things troublesome for you...! (dashing off)

🌶: W-WAIT!

🌶: Are balls such a big deal? We just have to move to the beat, right?

🍓: B-but...

🌶: Look! Those guys are all enjoying themselves dancing, aren't they!

(🍮: You really can't dance!! (stomp stomp) )

🍓: Ah...

🌶: Let's just enjoy ourselves as well!

🍓: ...Okay!

(Wheee~) (/giggle)

🐱: ......

🧀: Pardon me,

🧀: The lobby is rather chaotic, so it seems like dancing might be difficult... shall we move to a quieter place?

🐱: Yes, sounds good. (footsteps)

🍓: Whew~

🍓: I had fun, thank you so much!

🌶: Me too! (hahaha)

🌶: (Gasp) (This isn't the time for that!)

🌶: I totally forgot I was in the middle of a bet. I have to quickly go back to stealing hearts... (whish whish) Where the heck did they go?

🌶: Hey, have you guys seen Roguefort Cookie?

🥂: Roguefort Cookie..?

🥛: Ah, I have!

🥛: I saw them go out to the garden a little while ago.

🌶: The garden?

(dashing footsteps)

🥂: Roguefort Cookie came to tonight's ball? They're not trying to steal something, by any chance...? (That was Chili Pepper Cookie just now, right?)

🥛: Ah, I heard they're doing a bet with Chili Pepper Cookie.

🥛: I encountered them while I was changing clothes... they really did disguise themself perfectly!

🥂: Aha~

🌶: What garden is this wide? (Seriously.)

🌶: Ah, there they are.

!!!!!

(/ch 3 end)

[palepinklilies]

the injury of finally knowing you

Note: Initially posted on ao3 but with a different title (this is my draft title btw); Trying my hand at posting my pieces here! I hope u guys read my stuff nd like em ^__^

Summary: Marriage is a vow… for better or for worse, for richer or poor, in sickness and in health… What’s to happen when vows are… wiped… erased… Or The one where Gojo Satoru fails to remember his darling wife at the right time.

wc: 10.2k

Chapter 1: Of lines and intersections (ch.2)

The last memory you have of him as he is, is a sore topic. Frankly, you blamed —is still blaming — yourself for the accident that befallen the sole person you love the most. Your husband, Satoru Gojo got into a terrible car crash that put him into a coma for half a year now, barely showing signs of regaining consciousness. 

The night prior might be considered as your worse fight in the eight years that you’ve been together with Satoru. He always used to say that fights shouldn’t be slept in through the night, but not all things we want go as planned; because that night, you both had said words that couldn’t be taken back. Specifically, Satoru opened Pandora’s box and used it against you.

The cause of the fight wasn’t anything too destructive. Yet, it created a deep-seated wound between your relationship. It’s as simple as the talk of kids. 

It’s not a sensitive topic in yours and Satoru’s marriage because you’ve already had a long conversation around wanting and having children of your own. For a while, both of you were on the same page: ‘no kids until we’ve established what we want to happen with our careers.’

Somehow, somewhere along the line, he wanted it differently. For quite some time, he’s been hinting making a family with you. It could be as simple as pulling you by the baby section in a department store, or showing you funny — adorable and cute — baby videos from the internet. At first it was endearing and warm to see him think about children so lovingly, especially with the prospect of one being half him and half you. But unlike him, you’ve yet to reach the dream younger you had always reached for. 

Maybe it’s his leverage of having been brought up as a trust fund baby — someone with a golden spoon. While you had to work your way — with grit and passion, just to reach where you are now. 

He’s Satoru Gojo, a genius business scion turned mogul. He’s already well respected, recognized and established for his prowess in handling many corporations and conglomerates under his family’s control. 

Well you on the other hand… You’re still in law school. Against his insistence, you refused to use his money to attend law school after your pre-law undergrad. Which is why you had to apply for work to be able to afford it. One of the reasons for this is your pride. As foolish as it was, pride was your drive, not only because you didn’t want to succeed behind the shadow of his surname and money but also because you wanted to prove to his family that you’re worthy of being his wife. 

Okay, but who is Satoru Gojo if not persuasive? Eventually he convinced you to accept his offer, albeit with your condition that the fees will be split in half and that it’s the only thing he will finance in your pursuit of a career as a lawyer. So when he threw those god-forsaken words of insult, it hit all your insecurities and broke you.

“I don’t understand why we can’t! I try to give you everything I can and yet this simple thing, you refuse to give to me!” His voice booms across the living room. Hearing those words only made you more heated. 

“It’s not as simple Satoru! We… agreed. We agreed that we will establish our careers before we try for kids. Why are you turning back on that now?!” The pitch of your voice is starting to match his’ and the conversation was just escalating and getting more heated. The air feels heavy and your brain has triggered fight or fight and right now, fight seems to be the default choice. 

“You wouldn’t understand me because you’re already at the peak of yours! — because your career is only moving up and forward. But what about me? What about my dreams?” Exasperated, you just sit down the couch, your head in your hands. Tears are also brimming your eyes and your chest feels tight and heavy. 

Striking the iron while it’s hot, he resigns, “You know what, maybe my mom was right. I shouldn’t have married a selfish, poor girl like you.” 

As if time stops for you; your voice gets stuck in your throat and the tears threatening to spill, had spilled. You didn’t know what or how to respond to that. Is that what he really thought of you? 

For a few seconds, silence had finally taken over. The air felt suffocating. Leaving is the only thought you have above everything that’s been speedrunning your mind.

You wordlessly get up and brushed past him, only then does he see you tear-streaked face and your bloodshot eyes. 

Feeling braised, he immediately realized the gravity of what he said. He quickly catches up with you as you scramble to pack a small overnight bag. 

Everything feels heavy — feels tight, and all you can focus on is getting essentials: 2 pairs of undies and whatever clothing within your reach and your essential cosmetic products. Satoru watches you in chaos. 

Before you enter the bathroom for your toothbrush, he wraps his arms around your torso, as if to restrain you. His head hung low atop your shoulder and you feel his ragged breathing. “Don’t leave. Please. I didn’t mean any of it. You can slap me, punch me or kick me but don’t leave, please.” A sob chokes him as he says the last word. 

You’re also sobbing at this point, snot faced and all, barely able to say a word without hiccuping in between. It’s starting to physically hurt being skin to skin with him right now, so you break free from him. “Th-that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I… I just need time for myself.” You say as you step inside the bathroom. He just stands there silently crying, like you. 

Before you cross the threshold to your shared penthouse he speaks, “I love you. Be safe.” More tears escape your eyes. He sounded so soft and defeated, and you know it’s nothing but sincere. Without looking back, you wordlessly shut the door until you hear the ping of the lock. 

You stood in front of the door for what seems like a lifetime, crying and contemplating if you should actually leave knowing that once you do, something in your marriage will shift. Against all odds, you swallow the block in your throat and start walking away from your home, from your love, from your husband. 

You ended up in a decent inn away from the heart of the city. Checking-in in a hotel was an initial thought, but with what happened hours prior, you couldn’t bear to spend more than you have to. It’s not pride — well maybe it is, however no one has the right to scorn you for choosing not to touch any amount in the shared bank accounts Satoru arranged after marriage. 

Regardless, the salary you get as a part-time para-legal in a small law firm was enough to guarantee you the luxury of being away from anyone at the moment. You’re guaranteed the luxury of solitude, quiet and contemplation. 

The life’s mundanity became an afterthought…ergo commitments left at work and in law school. You’d cross the bridge when you get there: you’d face the consequences of going AWOL once you’re mentally and emotionally fit to be back.

Three days passed and you still haven’t gone back to his penthouse. You also shut off your phone, disconnecting from everyone and anyone who can contact you. At one point during day 2, you felt homesick. You almost went back, keyword being almost.

The quiet and solitude gave you the opportunity to rest, sleep and tune everything out. You wouldn’t know how to face your husband anyway. Everything still hurts to the point that it feels numb. But then a thought crossed your mind: home. It was a fleeting thought, a snap decision if you will, but that same hour you packed up and waited for check-out time. You were going home. 

An hour after check-out and you’re on a train back to your shared penthouse, which at this moment, is a gamble. Satoru’s spontaneous yet predictable (for you, that is). There’s a 50-50 chance that he’s home waiting for you while there’s also a chance that he’s at the office. There’s no moment for you to ponder on it, you just act.

Arriving, the only soul you’re able to meet are the trusted cleaners who comes and goes on schedule. You honestly forgot about their schedule, which is on a Friday. They meet you with curt greetings and smiles, which you return. You just hope that none of them have been talked by your husband into tipping your arrival at the unit.

Packing a small hand-carry luggage was quicker than you expected it to be. You take in a deep breath and think of ways how you can leave (without suspicion). Which is a difficult feat considering that one: leaving directly and walking out without a word would rouse so much suspicion. The word of the mouth isn’t so reliable and you wouldn’t want to leave and these people would make the false assumptions and tell on you; two: Satoru had probably gave the cleaners an order to inform him of your arrival and when you’d leave the penthouse. 

Of both options, one thing is for certain, Gojo Satoru will follow you and will scour the whole of Japan just to find you. 

You decide on a quick shower before leaving, which only took less than 15 minutes. You’re trying to minimize the time when Gojo could potentially come home if someone had snitched of your presence in the penthouse. Surprisingly, your exit went smoothly, even in the building’s concierge. 

On the far side of the city, in the heart of the central business district, Gojo Satoru gets notified of your arrival in your apartment building. Quickly he tells his assistant to cancel today’s remaining meetings as he rushed towards the elevators. You came home. You came back. Satoru knows that this might be the last time he’ll see you. He knows he’s hurt you deeply. He knows the gravity of his words when he used the biggest insecurity you have in this marriage, hell, since the start of your relationship even.

On the monitor pad of his Jaguar, he had dialed your number 5 times in a row, only to be sent to voicemail. In all honesty, he’s praying to every god up there that you’re napping or doing other things that keeps you preoccupied enough to neglect your cellphone. 

And right now as he’s currently speeding beyond the city’s limits, he’s left you yet another voicemail: “[name], hey, I’m still on my way back. I’m sorry for everything I said. I know I shouldn’t say it through voicemail but I want you to know that I am. I’m really sorry and I can’t ever justify the things I said. Wait for me at home, please. I love y-”

He wasn’t able to finish the last words when he felt a large collision against the left side of his vehicle. At that moment, time stood still for Satoru Gojo. One moment he was speeding forward with one goal in mind and in a split second he’s receiving a blunt force that made the car skid across the lightly trafficked road. 

Nothing in his field of vision registered in his brain, it was all a blurry haze. Soon after the car skids to a halt, the last thing he sees is your contact name on the monitor pad before losing consciousness.

On the flip side, you’re seeing blurry hazes of Tokyo fading into greens as you’re seated on a train ride back to Sendai, your home — first home. Exhaustion is clearly seeping out from your skin albeit the lack of physical activity and work. Your mind is so muddled and fogged and it’s not helping that your brain is rejecting any other emotion aside from hurt. 

Clarity and peace of mind is what you’re expecting from this short trip back home. In the back of your mind, a part of you is excited to return to your parents’ house, where you grew up and learned how to love and be loved. 

After the train ride, the first thing you do is visit the cemetery. It’s been a year since you last visited and paid your respects. You brushed off a few dried leaves from the grave, and poured water over. “Hi mama, dad. Sorry it took me so long to see you again.” You couldn’t modulate your voice louder than a whisper with the tears that had started to streak down your cheeks. And there at your parents’ grave did you pour all the tears that you thought you had cried. 

All the feelings of hurt, anger, pain, betrayal and most of all guilt came crashing down on you as sob your eyes out. It was only then that you felt you were safe to be vulnerable. Even without their physical presence, your mother and father had always been a source of comfort. 

You kept whispering ‘sorry’s and you don’t even comprehend to whom and for what are you asking for forgiveness and reconciliation. Everything still feels heavy and all you want yo do is curl up and cry yourself dry. “Daddy I-i m-miss y-you… So m-much.” How you wished for your dad to be there. To be there and give you a tight hug and kisses on top of your head. 

Catching your breath, you tried to calm down so you can vent to the empty air. Sniffling you start speaking softly, “Uh… I-i had a terrible argument with Toru daddy.” Verbalizing it only made you tear up again and a lump rise to your throat. Maybe this was what you needed: to be able to freely speak your mind without any external opinion that wouldn’t even help console your feelings.

“And it’s because I… it’s because I don’t want a baby yet…” your eyes shut tight and tears fell with it. “But I do want to be a mom so much… so so much especially if he’s going to be the dad… but I want to be a lawyer to the same extent.”

What stage of grief are you in right now? They say that going through the five stages of grief is non-linear. You could be in the first one: anger, then after a few hours you could have skipped to the third: bargaining. Some would even switch from one stage back to the other. Perhaps you’re in a limbo stage of feeling everything all at once? Is that even possible? 

After crying in silence for what felt like an eternity, you stand up and dust your palms from the jeans you’re wearing. “M’sorry for not getting you guys flowers and forgetting to light some incense… I’ll see you at home…” You give a light touch to your parents’ names engraved on the stone.

The last time you’ve been to the house where you grew up in was the day of your father’s funeral. Entering the threshold once again after many years gave you a feeling of nostalgia. 

You take in the dusty surrounding. All furnitures have been covered by drawsheets and the living room carpet had been rolled off to the side. Everything was almost the way that it was as you’ve last seen it. 

“Mom, dad I’m home.” Only silence greets you, it leaves a bitter taste on your tongue that no one is there to greet you a “welcome home.” But still, you feel better being here. In a sense you know that your dad’s presence is here with you and that’s enough.

You decided to sleep in your parents’ room for the night so you left the luggage by the door and looked for cleaning supplies to tidy and clean the room up. In retrospect, you should’ve brought spare bed sheets and pillowcases, but you decided to simply run them in a nearby laundromat. 

In the living room, you decided to look through photo albums for entertainment.

You’ve lived your life with your dad being the only parent you’ve ever known. Your mom died with the complications of giving birth to you with a weak heart. And your dad tried his best to immortalize your mom through pictures that they took during the whole pregnancy. Here you find the photo album you made of the first year you started college, the same year you met Satoru. 

Coincidentally, snapshots of your relationship weren’t really put here on purpose — well for the first half of it at least. 

Before you left for university your dad gave you one of his film cameras and told you to make and keep memories of college because it’s one to give the most notable memories of your lifetime. You think he was exaggerating then, but it made sense as you grew older.

Flipping the page, you see the first picture you took with Satoru and his group of friends. It was your first year as a university student, taking up literature, and he was in his second year. The only reason your paths had crossed that year was because you wanted to meet new people and make friends… so you attended a party without fully knowing how city kids define parties.

Initially, you attended the freshmen mixer within university grounds and it was fun! You met a sophomore guy who was one of the student council organizers for the networking event. His name was Suguru Geto. He had an aura that was enough for you to trust him… just a little bit though. Throughout the mixer event, you barely interacted with people your age. In your mind, you know it’s because of the fact that you were from the country side… who knows who or what city kids want as a friend right? 

Admittedly, you did enjoy the mixer even if you were just seated at the corner. This went unnoticed to the senior members of the student council, hence, Geto approached you with a light taps on your shoulder. He simply gives a curt smile upon your surprised expression. “Hey, you doin’ good here? I’ve noticed you haven’t been going around talking to people.”

Embarrassing. You then reason out that no one wants to approach you or if you initiate, they usually cut conversations after finding out that you’re new in the metropolitan. “It’s fine though, I’m actually enjoying even if it doesn’t look like it. I just wish I can meet one potential friend.”

Now, Geto isn’t one to take pity in people. He’s got a quite awful attitude underneath his cool and calm demeanor. But somehow, he thinks you need a springboard. It’s out of his character to take strays in, but he does. 

“Every year, after the freshman mixer, my friends and I throw a welcome party for students returning for the semester and for those new as well. If you’re interested, you can come. Just approach me after so I can write the address down.” He quickly bids you goodbye after that. You couldn’t even say a curt ‘thanks’ for his offer. Contemplating if you should go to that party is what plagues your mind as you decided to walk around in case you stumble upon someone who would appreciate talking to you.

So you did approach Geto for the address once the mixer finished… and you ended up in a… house… packed with young adults chugging alcohol, smoking and grinding against each other. You have half a mind to turn back and just enjoy the rest of the night in your small apartment, but you also wanted to experience the liberties of being a college student, namely the drinking and getting wasted privileges.

The loud bass reverberates against the floorboards and the walls of the entryway as you enter. Here you realize that you’re underdressed for the occasion. While other ladies wore micro-mini skirts, tube tops, little black dresses, and what nots, you were still wearing a university-dress code-appropriate outfit from the mixer earlier. You didn’t bother changing your cream skirt that goes just half an inch above your knees, a simple black halter top and a knitted cardigan over it. 

Though you feel awkward and misplaced, you figure that you could find where they get drinks. You suspect that they’re in the kitchen, so off you go. Surprisingly, Geto is there too with a number of people laughing and bickering with each other once you stood by the kitchen entryway. He immediately took notice of you. 

“Hey! Freshie girl you actually came! For one second I thought you wouldn’t.” All eyes went on you the moment he acknowledged your presence. It was agitating to be under their gazes, scrutinizing you, and perhaps the raven-haired boy took notice.

He motions for you to come closer to the kitchen island, “C’mon, what type of drink do you prefer? We have beers, cocktail punches… or are you a hard liquor type of girl?” His eyebrows raise, waiting for your response. “I’ll take the beer, please.” He takes a green bottle from one of the red ice boxes and pops the cap open for you. “Here you go, one bottle.” 

You’ve only drank occasionally. Like during family festivities or birthdays, and those were limited to sips of cheap champagne and traditional sake. “I’ve told you my name but I haven’t caught yours, how do you want us to call you?” he asks before you took a swig of the bottle. You apologize and tell him your name, “Hey guys! This freshie girl right here is  [name]! Be nice to her.” A series of ‘hey’s and curt waves were thrown your way and you slightly bowed your head slightly as encouragement of their greetings. “Well, this is a big party! I hope you meet the potential friends you were expecting from this afternoon.” After that you were left alone as one of the ladies in the group notified everyone of a ‘beer pong’ at the back area of the house, and they left.

The condensation of the beer bottle had transferred to your palm so you looked for paper towels and after that you went ahead back to the crowd and started walking around like a lost puppy. You expected something like this and it felt surreal to experience your first college party. Could be better but not bad for a first time right? 

Surprisingly, the beer was palatable at least, but you start to think that maybe the offer of the cocktail punch could’ve been better. You passed by Geto’s group in hopes of being free from the cramped living room and he sends a small wave and a curt smile your way. You can’t help but silently herald him for being so polite, when his friends (in your assumption) are snobbish. 

Beside Geto Suguru was his best friend, Gojo Satoru, and the raven-haired’s greetings to you didn’t come unnoticed to him. Suguru wasn’t the type to be that friendly, so naturally, it piqued his interest. 

“Who’s that? Didn’t know you were into prude freshmen now?” He scoffs. The raven-haired tossed the ping pong ball, landing inside the far right cup, “I’m not. The girl looks like a lost puppy, felt bad for her that’s all.” Satoru just hums and takes his turn to toss the ball, he misses, and Geto knows it’s on purpose so he just scoffs. “Well, I’ll take a walk around then.”

In a less dense corner of the backyard, you tried angling the film camera so that you’d be in frame. You find that taking pictures of yourself like this is more difficult than if you’d use your phone. But maybe that’s the point of it all. You can hear your father say at the back of your mind. 

“Phone cameras are becoming obsolete now huh?” You look to your side to see who’s come to intrude your bubble and what stands before you must be the prettiest person you’ve seen in your lifetime. Recovering from your surprise, you put the camera down. “Umm, I don’t think so?” He chuckles, “I’m messing with you. I’m Gojo Satoru by the way.” He offers you a hand and you shook it, also telling him your name. 

He offers to snap a picture of you, which you don’t accept because you feel shy. You discover that this man doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer when he lightly grabs your wrist and takes the camera from your grasp. He starts pointing the camera at you, and you stand there in confusion, “well c’mon, strike a pose?”

And you do strike an awkward pose. Maybe this weird but beautiful guy can be your first friend? Or maybe he’s just looking for someone to hook-up with? That’s a common thing at parties… right?

Soon enough after Satoru had broken the ice between you and him, you find yourself back with Geto and his group, where you discover that he and Satoru are best friends. You may be naïve and new to these things but you weren’t stupid. The people in their circle definitely didn’t want you there. As you spent each passing minute in their presence, you piece that together as most of them choose to ignore you apart from the two men who took you under their wing. 

It feels overwhelming having to do too much socializing for one day so you try to bid them goodbyes. Since no one acknowledged, you start to walk away, but someone grabs a hold of your arm. 

“Leaving so soon? You haven’t even used the whole film roll.” He takes it upon himself to open your small shoulder bag and took the camera and raised it up, “Hey guys! say ‘cheese’!” He says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and you look up the camera with a contorted smile with flushed cheeks. “Well then, see you around campus.”

Expectations always differ from reality because it wasn’t part of yours to keep stumbling across the silver-haired man. You could be in the classics section of the library and he’d coincidentally be there too, or by the university quad where you’d often write your essays and prose, and other unsuspecting places where you’d least expect him to be. At one point you suspected it was intentional but he just brushed it off that you were simply being so observant. 

For the many months that you’ve spent time with him, you enjoyed his presence and completely, laughed at his jokes — saw him as Satoru and not Gojo Satoru, the scion of a multi-billion business empire. 

But you knew to keep things platonic. At the back of your mind, you were certain that he’d never see you more than a friend he met in university. You were almost certain that the moment he gets his degree, you’d never cross paths and all will be part of your college memories. But really, not all expectations become the reality. 

A huge chunk of the student body knew that Gojo was a notorious playboy. This is a false accusation and merely an assumption. Yes, he did like to sleep around but not as much as they say. If anything, Geto’s more of the playboy between them, who’s engaging in different set-ups with different girls almost every week! And he wasn’t able to shield you from the potential bad (false) things you’d hear around. But you weren’t just a notch in his belt. 

He was able to show you a side of him only people he’s extremely close to can see and experience. You caught his interest in that party and never left his mind since. It feels foolish to orchestrate every single time you think you come across him in campus “coincidentally,” but he succeeded.

He used his charms — more like pulled off some strings, to get your schedule and he had everything memorized just so he can get a chance to meet you. Suguru had even called him a stalker for it and maybe he almost became one until you simply expected him to be where you are. Eventually, he got you — even if it took so much work and convincing for you to believe the sincerity of his feelings. 

You’ve always considered him as a friend. A friend who you have feelings for, more like. Your subconscious would always tell you that if he did make a move on you, he’d leave you hanging and bruised. It was a simple push and pull: Satoru would make moves that seem to blur the lines of friendship and you would try your best to keep it platonic and not read into it. You’d always think he’d break your heart eventually, be it as a friend or be it as a lover.

So when you woke up in his bed naked after a long night of drinking and partying, you knew for sure that was the end so you left without a goodbye. Not a single bit of what memories you can recall from the night before were laced with regret. 

When he rested his forehead against yours and kissed you with his soft lips, you didn’t pull away. You wanted to, but you didn’t. When he started touching — caressing you under your dress, you didn’t want him to stop. When he whispered sweet nothings as he plowed through your sopping gummy walls, you didn’t ask him to stop. How could you, when at that very moment it felt as if you’re the only people on this earth.

The boundaries you tried to keep for the past months of your friendship had been crossed the moment you let him kiss and undress you. It was a night of passion you couldn’t forget and regret. With a heavy heart, you walked away and left half your heart with him but with pride and dignity intact. You can’t ever be just one of his conquests if you’re the first to leave.

When Satoru woke up to an empty bed that morning, he was confused. It agitated him to see you nowhere in his suite and it didn’t help that you blocked him from everywhere he could reach you. 

For the following days after that he’d leave class five minutes early so that he can catch you as you leave yours; Or, he’d try to catch you in the places on campus that you’d frequent during your vacant hours but to no avail, no one could ever catch a person who’s avoiding you like the plague. But still he was relentless.

Everyday he’d try to find you in the vast campus of the university. He tried to think how you would so he can anticipate where you’d probably go — was a hit or miss situation. But he was able to catch you in a back staircase made to be an emergency exit in the same building as most of your classes. 

The thought was like an epiphany for him; he was staring at the narrow line of floor to ceiling windows by the back of the buildings when it occurred to him that you initially stayed there in your first days of university. 

Even if he’s the captain of the basketball team, he was quick to leave practice saying some shitty excuse of an emergency, to which his best-friend just rolled his eyes at. He knew exactly why. But he didn’t pry nor try to tell on him. And so Gojo Satoru ran across the campus and skipped steps until he reached the 4th floor landing of the staircase. 

You were mindlessly listening to a posted lecture on your student portal. You’ve been having sleepless nights trying to finish all the writing and literary analyses that was required of you. Eyes drooping and almost falling asleep, you were startled by another person’s presence within the landing. 

It was the single person on campus who you’ve been trying to avoid for the past weeks. It’s the only person who’s taking up a huge space in your mind when you aren’t distracted by your courseworks or classes.

Catching his breath, “y’know- this is a clear breach of building safety codes-” pants “you’re an illegal obstruction to this exit [name].” He stands before you all sweaty and still in his jersey and you couldn’t speak, dumbfounded as you figure out how he managed figure out your hiding place. You were almost successful in avoiding him completely but he just had to chase and look for you. 

“W-what are you doing here??” He drops his duffel bag at the base of the next flight of stairs and sits beside you. “Why have you been avoiding me? You even had me blocked everywhere!” Always the straightforward one, he’d always speak his mind.

This was a confrontation you have been dreading to face — the reason why you had to change where you’d frequent these past weeks. Coming to terms with sleeping with a friend is one thing but having to unpack sleeping with a friend, letting him be your first when you know you have feelings for him is a whole other different conundrum. 

You quickly closed your laptop and fumbled with placing your notebook inside your bag. But before you could even take a leave, he grabbed your laptop and hugged it against his side — one that was away from you. “Give it back Gojo-san.” You can see him frown and pout at what you said. 

So it’s just Gojo now? Not Satoru? How cold. How cruel. You’re such a heartless woman. How could you have it in you to immediately leave seeing him? Did you hate him that much? Why were you being so indifferent when you used to smile and speak with him warmly? 

“No, not when I know you’d leave once I do. Not when you haven’t answered my question.” 

You bit your bottom lip, why is he making this so difficult? You still try to reach for your laptop so you can leave but he just keeps it out of your reach, until you just give up.

“Why does it matter? Can’t I simply be busy with my own life?” You say as calm as you could while avoiding his gaze. 

“Of course you can. I just want to understand why. Didn’t… did… anything from that night mean anything to you?”

And there it is. You hoped to avoid this, truly. But since it fell on your lap out of nowhere, might as well face it right? “Did it mean anything to you?” The way you returned the question took him aback. Your voice was suddenly laced with indifference and he couldn’t place where that should go. 

“Of course. I wouldn’t have initiated that if I didn’t want it to happen.” He tried to hold your hand but you refused his advances. “How can I trust your words Gojo?” 

He’s reeling. He knows where this is going. At this moment he admits that he approached things out of order. He wasn’t able to shield you from the rumors surrounding him and his “dating” history. He shouldn’t have given in to his emotions and took advantage of your drunken vulnerability. “Is that what you think of me? Is that how you see me?” are the only things that come out his mouth. You can’t help but feel guilty when he said that.

It’s true. You believed that there’s some truth to what people say about him and, that, along with your naïveté is enough to make you an easy target for him. You let out a deep sigh. 

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s forget things happened alright? We’re still friends anyway.” Lies. You knew damn well you can’t stay friends with him anymore. 

“No. I don’t want us to be friends anymore.” And there it is. A man of his caliber that has an equally large ego wouldn’t take it lightly — the way you left that morning without him having to put a word in. 

But it takes you by surprise when he goes down a step and squats in front of you so you’d meet eye to eye. “I want you to tell me how you really feel. I want you to tell me why you think I saw you just as a body count.”

“You’re so frustrating Goj-” “Satoru. Call me by my name.” That shut you up. Everything is confusing and frustrating and all you want to do is leave his overbearing presence and cry your frustrations out of his sight.

“Why are you doing this? I’ve already slept with you! Isn’t it like rule number 1 to forget and move on to the next!” He could feel your exasperation the moment you finally looked at him with teary eyes and he only gently stares right back at you with his blue ones. 

“If this is just an ego trip because I left without a word then you can just tell people whatever you want that’s in your favor.” By now tears have started to fall and yet your eye contact remains. He gently thumbs the tears away, “Fuck. You’re killing me sweets. It’s not like that… I’m sorry… don’t cry.” 

It’s weird. It’s unusual. It’s confusing. It’s making your heart beat rapidly and makes your chest feel like it’s going to burst. And the next words that come out his mouth was just the catalyst for your emotions. 

“Listen, to me you’re not just a body count. I wouldn’t go out my way to memorize your schedule down to the last second. If you were just someone I wanted to fuck, I’d have done that at the party.” 

His thumbs caresses the apples of your cheeks and a warm smile grazes his lips, “I did all that because I like you. I took interest in you, for you… I’m sorry for doing things out of order. You have to tell me now if everything I did matters so I know when to back-off.”

The proximity of your faces and the way he holds you like you’re fragile glass makes your heart beat faster than it is. You take off all your inhibitions, all the weight holding you down and connect both your foreheads. It’s a risk but you’ll take it. “I… I like you so much Gojo Satoru.��� It doesn’t take him much effort to mesh your lips together in a soft, chaste kiss. 

After a few seconds he breaks away and you completely feel his lips turning into a smirk against yours, “So, the status between us now is girlfriend and boyfriend huh?” 

The memory is fond, as if it happened yesterday and not years ago. From there your relationship wasn’t always sunshines and rainbows but you made it work. You both held on to each other. Love is also sacrifice as much as it’s to be received. You realize that you’d go through all of that again as long as you get to stay with the only man you’ll ever love intensely.

With a newfound sense of rationality, you realize that whatever happens, you’d come back to Satoru. You need to talk things with him in a more peaceful and stable environment. You realize that the only way to fix this is to hit the train the first thing tomorrow morning and go home to your husband.

Tokyo mornings will always be hectic as the crowd bustles to arrive at their offices, schools or whatever they had to do that day. Even if you took the earliest shinkansen that you could catch, the Tokyo crowd will always be there. 

As you ping the elevators down to the lobby, your palms started to sweat and your heart, hammering against your rib cage. But upon entering your shared penthouse, it’s unnervingly quiet and still. “I’m home.” — no answer. 

Leaving the luggage by the door, you immediately patter into your home gym. Considering it’s as early as 9 AM, your husband is probably preoccupied with his workout. With an expectant smile on your face, you walk inside to see no one, not a single trace of movement. Not a single trace of Satoru. 

If you were nervous on the elevator ride up, you’re feeling something similar yet different in your gut. Rushing back to your bags, you rummaged for your phone. Cursing out loud that you left it off for days, you quickly turn it on.

Moments later and your phone is flooded with many missed calls, messages and voicemails from Satoru. 

Lover ♡ 78 missed calls

Lover ♡: baby, I’m off to work. I love you. Call me when you see this. (Tuesday 7:12 AM)

Lover ♡: ugh this meeting is such a bore. I’m so packed with board meetings this week sweets. Hope to see you at home. Miss you. Love u <3 (Wednesday 9:43 AM)

What you weren’t prepared for was 5 missed calls from his father’s secretary with messages requesting you to call back urgently, and Suguru Geto leaving 13 missed calls and a message that made your hands tremble and the phone to fall onto the marble floors.

Geto Suguru: [name], i don’t know where you are but please call me as soon as you see this. Satoru’s been rushed to the hospital. (Friday 12:34 PM)

Your knees follow as well, hitting the hard floors as you silently weep alone. You were in shock. How? What? Why? were the only things running your mind. “It’s not… true?” you try to make yourself believe as you run up to the second floor of the suite, to your bedroom. Your cheeky husband’s just running a prank on you and even got Suguru and his dad’s assistant on board. 

“Toru? Baby?” You say as you see the bed still pristinely made, just as the cleaners would’ve left it last Friday. “Satoru, this is a very bad joke. Come out, I’m not mad I promise.” Tears keep streaming down your cheeks as you make yourself believe in denial. Sooner, you’d call his best friend to ask where he is.

Suguru didn’t need to ring the doorbell for you to open the door for him. He’d already asked you to text him the passcode. It was kinda foresight on his part that you’d be a crying, confused mess so he took the initiative. 

And just as expected, he arrives to see you hiccuping and sobbing alone on the living room floor. He approaches you slowly, “Hey, [name]. I’m here.” 

In his head, he thinks that this situation is royally fucked up. You’re an absolute mess and he’s also a mess. Everyone’s a fucking mess with Satoru lying almost lifeless in a hospital bed and with you who’s yet to find out the state your husband is in.

Quickly wiping you tears and composing yourself, you try your best to greet Suguru, albeit in between sobs. “O-oh, G-geto-san! I-uh didn’t notice you e-enter.” Seeing your state, he decides that you’d need a primer for the events that happened in your absence.

“Have you eaten? I can whip up a quick breakfast for you.” He says as he places his hands on your shoulders and ushers you towards the breakfast counter. 

“I’m fine… I-I’m n-not really h-hungry,” you try to steady your breath and words. The man before you is unrelenting though, he’s already rummaging through the fridge and has had water boiling in the kettle.

“Y’know, I’m usually never this enthusiastic about breakfast but I’m starving!” He turns around with eggs and a few tomatoes in his hands, “would you be a peach and make us warm tea? I already started the kettle.” His warm grin and presence grounds you for a moment and wordlessly follow his request. The raven-haired man huffs a breath of relief seeing you open some of the drawers for tea bags and sweeteners. 

A few moments later, as he tosses the eggs around the pan, you speak again. “Geto-san… Satoru… is he– um, he’s just working on weekends again isn’t he?” Your voice starts to shake as you steep both teas.

Perhaps there’s really no way he can tell his friend, his best friend’s wife, that her husband’s currently comatose for rushing home to catch her. The finishes off the eggs with a dash of salt and turned off the range.

“There’s no soft way I can break this to you [name]…” Only then did you have the courage to look into his eyes. “Satoru’s currently in a coma. He got into a terrible car accident.”

He’s gauging your reaction. He’s purposely omitted the fact that his best friend ran multiple red lights and sped beyond limits because he caught word of you coming home. It would break you, and blame your self as the reason he’s in a vegetative state. “No… N-no you’re kidding… this is just some silly prank he got you in.” You chuckle without a trace of humor. 

The man in front of you wordlessly plates the eggs and stale bread. “C’mon, eat up. I’ll take you to him.”

Suguru was patient enough to help you clean up yourself as he helped you to the bathroom and even got you a fresh set of clothes on the bed. But the gravity of the truth only weighs on you as you sit in the passenger seat and the familiar city streets and the hospital comes into view.

While the elevator lifts you up, your palms start to sweat; as if mirroring the events this morning but with more melancholy than ever. The sterile scent of the hospital is making your stomach sick and all you want to do is throw up.

You never liked being inside the hospital. It serves as a reminder of sadness, grief and death. And right now as Suguru leads you toward the VIP ward, your hands start to tremble and your pace starts to slow down.

Before the raven-haired man opens the door, you quickly grab his wrist, “Geto-san, I-I can’t. I’ll come back when he’s better.” You turn to leave and he is quick to grab your arms to stop you. 

“Hey, I know this is harder for you, more than anyone else, I’m the only one who understands that. But please, for Satoru,” he says with a squeeze to your arms. With tears brimming, you nod, and he let’s one hand go to slide the door open. 

When Suguru thought that this was a royally fucked up situation, he never meant it to snowball into this royally fucked up situation.

The moment after he slid the door open and you entered the room, he’s met by Satoru’s mother. And upon seeing your presence behind him, the woman immediately reached for you to slap you square in the face “You have some gall to show up here!! You witch!! How dare you! How dare you come see my son when you’re the reason he’s here.” 

It all happened so fast that Suguru couldn’t stop the older woman from her rage and protect you from her misplaced anger. But still, he comes between you and Mrs. Gojo, “Auntie, please… not in front of Satoru… not like this… please.”

By that, the older woman’s cold, hatred-filled gaze had befallen Geto. “And you! I’m disappointed! You’re his best friend, how could you bring the very woman that’s the cause of my son’s suffering!”

“I apologize for not informing you beforehand, but she’s his wife. I’m certain that Satoru would want his wife to be here if he were awake.” 

Trying to make yourself smaller, you just stood there shaking and silently crying, not registering how the confrontation is going down. What did she mean that it’s all your fault? You were the cause of all this? What did you do.

You tried to peek a glance out of Suguru’s broad shoulders, only managing to see the foot end of Satoru’s bed and hearing the beeping of various monitors. 

Satoru’s in a coma. Your husband, your lover, is in a partial deathbed because of… you. Bile and guilt rises up, so you did what any coward would’ve done: you ran out.

Hearing the door slide open, Geto quickly turns to look at you only to see you take off. He immediately calls your name and runs off to follow you, his pace increasing as he tries to catch you, and he does.

Before you were able to enter the elevator, a hand grabs your arm which you try to shrug off. “Geto-s-san let go.” The man doesn’t, he wraps you in his arms instead; and there you cry even harder.

Geto feels… sad for you. He couldn’t ever imagine the pain you’re in at this moment as you keep saying ‘I’m sorry’s over and over again, in between your sobs. The best he could do was offer you a hug and pats on your back as you cried hard.

Suguru was kind enough to lead you to the hospital’s roof top garden to take a seat. He just let you cry all your tears, only offering pats on your back and a shoulder to cry on. Sooner the sobs and hiccups die down. Geto stood to get something to drink from the vending machine. 

It seems mundane to sit in silence with the cold lemon beverage in your hand. Except, nothing about this is normal. This is a hospital, your husband is here, unconscious and barely living, and it’s supposedly all your fault. 

By now, no more tears are left to be cried, you’re just staring blankly as if a void has materialized in front of you. “Geto-san, what did she mean by that?”

The man swallows dryly, thinking of ways to ease the information to you. “Hmm… you mean Satoru’s mom?” He tries to play the nonchalant one but your lack of any reaction nor reply tells him that he should just lay everything out in the open.

“Investigations during the day of the crash points to you and him having a conflict… The police said that the circumstantial evidences lead them to believe that he was driving beyond city speed limits distracted.” There’s no reaction from you so he continues.

“The footage on the black box of his car showed that he was talking to someone in haste… That he was trying to call someone repeatedly… It all pointed to you when the call registry log they had retrieved showed 28 missed calls to your number.”

Your nails start to fidget along the rim of the unopened can. So it’s like that. Have you not shut off your phone then you wouldn’t be here in this shithole. Have you just stopped being selfish and texted him of your plans and whereabouts then none of these things would have happened. 

A hand on your shoulder is enough to snap you out from your thought. Turning to Geto, you give him a sad smile, “I’m sorry… I know I’ve been saying that for the past hour… but she’s right…”

The canned drink is taken from you and Geto opens it. “You don’t have to believe that. None of this is your fault. Hell, you weren’t even the one driving that goddamn truck. It was all… just… bad timing.” Geto tries consoling you. It’s true. It’s called an accident for a reason. No one wanted it to happen in the first place. He gets up and you just look at the hand he’s offering. 

“So come, let’s go see Satoru,” he says with a gentle smile. The way you looked down at the drink and sipped on it is so melancholic. Shaking your head, “His mom is probably still there… I should just head home… and come another day…”

The older man just clicks his tongue. “Y’know that shouldn’t stop you from seeing him? You’re literally his wife. Plus, I have a feeling she left the hospital already. When have my hunches ever been wrong?” You resign with a sigh, stood up, and threw away the half empty can. 

Actually, as Geto got you a drink, he already texted Satoru’s father of what had happened. He hoped that it would be enough to take wife off the hospital premises so that you could see your husband.

To yours and Geto’s dismay, Mrs. Gojo didn’t leave just yet. However, she wasn’t alone. Her husband is also in the room when they got there. Seemingly, this quelled the older woman’s anger that she held for you. “Auntie, sir” Geto says and you join him as he offers them a bow. 

You don’t look any of them in the eye. Well, it’s rather difficult and you do have shame. After all, this was mostly your doing that their son is in that state. What shocked you is Seishiro Gojo approaching you; who gave you a brief hug.

“Welcome home [name]. It’s a relief to see you back.” The older man’s voice is stern yet there’s softness underneath. He is the first to welcome you back ever since you stormed out of your home earlier this week, and gosh did it feel so comforting. 

Among all the members of the Gojo clan, apart from Satoru, he treated you the nicest. You’d even say that he welcomed you as a daughter and not just an outsider to the family, even though that only happened after Satoru fought neck and neck with his whole family the day he proposed to you. 

You didn’t know what to say to him so you expressed your gratitude and kept your head low once again. This earned a snide remark from his wife, “Tsk, there’s no point in this farce Shiro.”

“Enough of that nonsense, she is family as much as anyone else in the Gojo family, and we are not doing this in front of Satoru.” It ends at that. Though you know for a fact that Mrs. Gojo will never let it go, ever. Because that’s just the type of woman she is.

After all the not-so-pleasant pleasantries, you finally got to see Satoru as a whole. It pains you to see him hooked to multiple tubes that’s probably there to help him stay alive. He looks paler than he usually is. There’s multiple minor cuts on his cheek, his brows and his chin. His forehead covered by gauze, which you’re assuming he’s suffered a fatal blow to his head. 

The sight made you tear up again. Slowly, you walk towards his bed and with shaky hands, you reach for him. His hand feels warm and you think that’s a good sign. “Hi Satoru, I’m home,” you whisper and a single tear streaks down your cheek.

It takes you a long moment to absorb the feeling of being near him again. At the end of the day, he’s your person as much as you’re his’. 

“I’m home… so…” Your eyelids shut close as you try to anchor yourself in this reality. “Wake up baby… please…” you whisper desperately, clutching his free hand. 

Geto suggested that you stay here for the night as Satoru’s watcher, to which Mr. Gojo had agreed with. His mom was adamant and quick to leave a snide remark but couldn’t really go against the final word of her husband. 

Soon the older couple left. Geto stayed for a while to answer some of your questions and got you take out before going back to the penthouse to get you an exchange of clothes.

As you sat on a stool beside your husband’s sleeping form, you couldn’t help but remember the last time you saw him. He asked, no… he pleaded for you to stay. That’s what probably hurts you the most; he practically begged you to release your anger and pain by hurt him physically so you don’t need to leave. You’d never do it, but now you regret leaving. Fuck. Sleeping in the guest bedroom would’ve given you the solitude you sought that night!

“Satoru… I’m sorry. I’m so… so… sorry I left.” The tears didn’t come as you tried to hold it in. You don’t deserve to cry, not with your husband’s current status. 

Geto returns with a gym bag full of your clothes. He’s met by your hunched sleeping form, hand still clutching Satoru’s. He leaves a note on the bedside table and drapes a thin blanket on your shoulders. He hopes that you can ride the wave and see it through. You’re strong, he’s sure.

Days passed. Weeks passed. 

Unable to commit to a full time at the law firm, you turned in your resignation letter and hoped they can understand the situation you are in. Law school semester continued and you try to juggle it along with looking after Satoru.

It’s been a month since the accident and you’re barely functioning outside the hospital. Partly, the reason for resigning was because you wanted to lessen the time you spent away from Satoru. He can wake up at any moment and you need to be there when he does.

Anyone who knows of your situation would tell you that it’s difficult to balance classes and taking care of your sick husband. It is. But you’d endure this for another year if it means that there is always a chance for him to wake up.

Besides, you plan on finishing this last semester so you can focus more on him. It’s almost mid-sem so it’s just a few more weeks before it’s over. 

Everyday you talk to Satoru about your day. Sometimes you narrate a case that was assigned as a reading material and tell him the process on how you dissect it clause by clause, paragraph by paragraph. It’s futile though. He’s unresponsive. But people always say they can hear us speak to them. It’s never too wrong to try.

Geto drops by weekly to check on both of you. He had suggested you write down your day on a notebook so that when he wakes up, he’d still get filled in on the things he’d missed. His mother often comes as well. You know because flowers are constantly changed and replenished. Albeit, you don’t see her as often. You think she comes in the day when you’re in class.

Some nights are just harder than the others, you’d often wake up by your phone’s alarm, nose dived into your books and laptop after you passed out from studying all night or breaking down as you try to get your readings done.

Day to day life since you came back has been on auto-pilot mode. It’s a cycle of rinse and repeat. You wake up, check on Satoru, attend class, go back, check on Satoru again, study… it just circles back. So it is not a surprise that you passed out on the way to one of the lecture hall your class was held in. 

White popcorn ceilings were the first to register in your line of vision as you opened your eyes. You assume that you’re in the university’s infirmary. You lay there for a few more minutes before the cream curtains are slightly drawn.

“Oh you’re awake! I’m Nurse Minato, you’ve been brought here after you passed out in the hallway… do you remember that?” You simply nod.

She does some physical tests on you to see if you’re still coherent and asks you some questions on your lifestyle, which you all answered truthfully and concisely… except for your monthly cycle.

“Alright, how about your cycle? Notice anything unusual?” She asks, eyes planted on the clipboard and scribbling down things. You remain silent, forehead scrunched down. Things were too hectic for you that you never really noticed if you had it the past 2 and a half months. 

“Um… I’ve been too stressed out lately so I haven’t really noticed. Do you have my bag? I have a tracking app.” The nurse pulls out a caddy from under your bed and hands you your bookbag. 

Opening the app quickly, you see that your cycle prediction show that your period’s been delayed for around 73 days. Now it’s not always accurate, but 73 days is extreme.

“Uh… it says here that I’ve been delayed for 73 days.” With that she stops scribbling and slowly looks up to meet your eyes. She says nothing and gets up to grab something from the cabinet fixtures within the room. 

“Are you sexually active?”

Then it dawns on you. It is highly possible. The last time you had sex with your husband was when he returned from an overseas business trip to France. That was 2 weeks prior to your heated argument. 

“Not at the moment… but I…had last contact with my husband a few months back.” She simply hums and hands you a pregnancy test. “Restroom is at the back. Come back when you’re done okay?”

You stare at the box as if it’s done you wrong. The possibility of pregnancy is actually high considering that night, Satoru asked you to hit it raw until you agreed. You laugh humorlessly. What great timing! The one time you have sex without the condom and he’s able to plant one in you?

Setting a timer, you follow the box instructions and collect your pee sample. Each passing second was agitating and had you shifting your weight from one foot to another, arms hugging your torso. What then if it reads two pink lines? 

The timer blares and echoes in the confined space of the restroom. The irony of it all is that the baby you and Satoru had argued awfully about will be here in a few months. Fuck.

[finniestoncrane]

Hihihi I adore your writing - can I request the riddlers reacting to a fem reader that likes to sit/lay on the floor? Like avoids chairs at all cost and will move anything to the floor at the first given opportunity. If asked why she just says something like “I dunno, I like it more down here.”

Thank you :)

Floor Loving Reader

Riddler Headcanons oh you mean write some head canons about me lmao? like write about me and my floor loving ass? floor supremacy for real (also guess who has feelings about sitting on the floor near arkham!eddie) 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fluff and some suggestive stuff, at one point it took a sharp turn into petplay... sorry lmao i don't know what came over me (horny)

dano

he agrees. this is the way to sit. floors were made to be sat on

he's been in various living situations that didn't have anything for him but a cushion and a blanket and a microwave

so he's used to making do, but you make it somehow... fun?

when you say "let's sit criss cross applesauce" or suggest a boardgame and spread yourself and the pieces all around

you make yourself comfortable wherever, and you make him feel comfortable just by being around

young justice

it's a little bit of an ego boost to have you beneath him, and not one that he's comfortable with

he's already hyper aware of the fact that he's tall and gangly

so he's forever bringing himself down to your level

and if that means he's on his lil tummy with his head in his hands, kicking his feet as he stares at you

then that's perfectly fine by him

gotham

he'd definitely join you! and then it's stim time baby

because now he's learned the joys of sitting on the floor and fiddling with various toys or tools

well he's just never going back to sitting at a desk again

look how much space there is for sorting and organising!

truly you are the real genius, since this was your idea!

btas

his only request is that you sit close enough to him that he can reach you still

he likes stroking your hair, or holding you close to lean against his legs

it's soothing, a nice reminder that you're right there beside him

and also acts as a nice stim, or like a stress release, when he's working on something intricate or that requires a lot of concentration

you're like his little good luck charm down there

telltale

you're gonna sit on the floor like a pet then you'll get treated like one

here's a little bowl with some water

and if you're very good he'll toss a snack your way

provided you behave very well and only bark when he commands you to

and if you sit by his leg, he'll scratch your head all nice too

zero year

if you're laying on your stomach then he gets to look at your butt

if you're laying on your back then he gets to take in your front

if you're sitting on the floor then you're the perfect height for...

y'know... *wink wink nudge nudge pointing at his dick*

"aw no don't get up, i was kidding! or i wasn't... if you're into it!"

arkham

every hour or so he shits himself because he's forgotten you're down there ("AH!! SWEET CH- wait i thought you were a rat.")

exactly the kind of person to step on you, yell at you for being in the way, and then kiss your lil owie better

he wouldn't admit it, but he finds it incredibly pleasant to have you just there near him

like paralell play or something, listening to you talking or singing or just watching you read/doodle

but he will kick you to get your attention, and so you don't get too comfortable around him

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - ch. 21

I had to break the chapter in two for length reasons, so the scape room scene I posted is next chapter. But I added some smut with what I secretly hoped would happen in QoS to make up for it. Have fun!

Warnings: language, NSFW, hypoglycemia

Words: 3,7k

“And what’s the only bird you can’t eat?” Rowan’s voice boomed over the feeble sounds of the nature surrounding him.

“Monkey!” One of his students replied, the one who looked paler than usual even under the night sky. Too many years working here made it easy to tell who could faint soon, so Rowan made a mental note to keep an eye on this one if he didn’t ask to go to the ambulance stationed nearby. The instructors were in a rotation of sorts, but these kids have been here for more than thirty hours nonstop. It’d be odd if someone didn’t faint.

Before he could reply, Cairn, the other instructor, emptied the kid’s water bottle on his face, consequently leaving him thirsty for the next few hours. Not exactly what Rowan would do to someone who’s showing signs of hypoglycemia.

In his line of work, you’d think it’s hard to tell if the instructor is teaching how to survive in harsh conditions, or if he just enjoys being cruel. It’s not. And from Cairn’s reputation, Rowan might even think he was holding back.

“Tell me, what’s the only bird you can eat?” He repeated himself, wanting to see if someone wasn’t tired enough to confuse birds with mammals.

“P-penguin.” Nothing more than a mutter.

“A what?” Rowan shouted. “I can’t hear you with all these leaves ruffling.”

“A PENGUIN,” multiple people answered this time.

“Finally! Now twenty on the floor. Thirty for Stutter Boy.”

About five push-ups in, the kid he was keeping an eye on fell on the grass. Cairn was on his way towards him when Rowan stopped him.

“Lieutenant!” He called, trotting his way. “Can you prepare the sounds? I’ve got this one.”

The next class would be about every sound they needed to know—nature, gunshots, spotting an enemy. Rowan usually liked teaching this one, but he didn’t trust Cairn with the babysitting part of the job.

Maybe Fenrys and Lorcan were right. Maybe Rowan did go soft after Maisie.

“Hey, dickhead! Are you with me?” He kneeled by the side of the collapsed kid, bending down a little to see his face.

He blinked and moved to get up. Way too feeble, way too slow. Rowan joisted him up and draped one of his arms across his shoulder.

When he realized they were going away from the class and towards the ambulance, the boy said, “I’m alright, sir, but thanks.”

“It wasn’t a question.” Rowan rolled his eyes, never loosening his grip. While some kids came up with every excuse under the sun to take a break, some others refused to leave the training field even when their bodies were begging to. “You wanna get back there? You’ll faint before you even finish the push-ups. Fucking genius—are you sure you went to college?”

He snickered a yes, sir and let Rowan lead him to the area where the ambulance was stationed.

The Doranelle Air Force’s property is far more extensive than what they actually use, which means that the training facility disposes of a small woodsy area that resembles the forest well enough to hold some classes. Rowan might be working in the middle of the night, but Lorcan wouldn’t send him to a boot camp in the middle of nowhere, he wasn’t that much of a jackass.

Being friends with the boss never gave him any special treatment, though. What lets him get away with most night classes is his high rank. As much as Rowan loved teaching amidst nature and showing how to navigate in such conditions, he’d rather spend the evening with his little girl. And now Aelin too, the reminder left a fluttery feeling in his stomach.

“Thank you, sir.” The boy disentangled himself from his grip when the ambulance became visible.

Rowan cocked an eyebrow at the kid. They usually tried to look good for him after the doctor, not the other way around. “Are you feeling better all of a sudden?”

“I’m trying, sir.” He swayed while trying to stand up, but still managed a lazy, shameless grin only a boy in his early twenties could muster. “The guys said there’s a different doctor in the ambulance today. And that she’s extra hot.”

“Oh, did they?” Rowan’s muscles went rigid, his head tilted while he glared at the recruit. “I was gonna give you a break, but if you’re not too tired to hound the doctor, maybe you should go for a run.”

“W-what?” The newbie’s eyes went wide with his instructor’s sudden change of demeanor, his mouth hanging open.

“You’re waiting for dicks to fall outta the sky? RUN!”

And run he did, in a zigzag and swaying more than anything, but the boy ran for his life. His steps over the humid grass were the only sound, other than the insects buzzing and trees creaking in the wind, which was why Aelin jumping from the ambulance was so clear.

She ran towards the recruit instead of Rowan, and the boy only stopped running when Rowan gave him permission to, as he should. He granted it immediately, though, since he didn’t want one of Aelin’s lectures about being too hard on the trainees.

Despite her offers to help, the kid managed to stumble to the ambulance on his own. The reminder of why he did it, that he didn’t want to ‘look bad’ in front of Aelin, sent his blood boiling—

“Captain Whitethorn,” she chastised with her disappointed mom voice, then lowered it so no one would hear her talk like this with someone who outranks her, “I am so angry at you right now. There’s a good chance this kid—my patient—has low blood sugar, and you send him running alone at night? Gods!” She threw her arms up and walked away from him, to the ambulance.

It was all right.

Ten minutes later, he had her pressed against the ambulance, one arm caging her in on the side that didn’t face the training field.

“And how’s the class?” she asked, her hand on his chest.

A fine was about to slip from his lips when he remembered the boys were commenting on Aelin. Hell, maybe even a girl or two. Then, Rowan remembered he was going to kill all of them. “You’re about to get a lot more patients.”

Snorting, she slapped his chest, but her hand went back to its initial position on it. It was just then that Rowan noticed Aelin’s idle fingers playing with the name tape on his uniform.

He gave it a pointed look. “You like it?”

She tilted her head, a silent way to tell she wasn’t following.

“I can make that happen, if you wanna wear a ‘Whitethorn’ in your uniform too.”

Aelin didn’t say anything, just wore a smile too big for her face, and damn him if he didn’t feel that smile everywhere. His heart, his stomach, his cock. Everywhere.

Rowan was using every willpower he had to not kiss her right now.

It was supposed to be a surprise, her popping up in his class like this. Manning an ambulance in the middle of the night to aid a bunch of newbies isn’t exactly a desirable task for the medical personnel, it was easy for Aelin to assume this for one night. And her plans to surprise him here were going perfectly well, until Lorcan found out and called him to his office.

Apparently, Rowan has a history of improper sexual conduct with Aelin at work that sends his boss on edge whenever she’s near him.

He might not be able to touch her now, but Lorcan didn’t say anything about flirting with her.

“You came in the ambulance, right? That means you left your car at home?”

“I drove to the hospital, then the sergeant drove me here. Why?”

“Because…” Rowan trailed a finger on the collar of her uniform. “You won’t need a car after this, when I take you home. Or tomorrow, when I take you out.”

Because working until the early hours meant they were dismissed from work tomorrow, and Maisie was taken care of with Sellene until they had to pick her up from school. As much as he loved having family time, Rowan would be damned if he let a child-free day go by.

Aelin’s breath hitched, her eyes darkening. “I thought you’d want to stay in.”

“I always want to stay in with you.” Rowan licked his lips, hers were so fucking close. He felt this pull, as if Aelin had tied an invisible lasso around him, luring him further each second his eyes were on her. “But I haven’t taken you out yet, and I really want to do that too.”

“Oh my God, you asshole,” Aelin breathed, her little bubble of desire popped. “You have never, ever, taken me out on a proper date.” The gape in her mouth turned into a cackle, but she still swatted his arm. “You’ve fucked me in every single posi—“

“I know.”

“We have a five-year-old together, Rowan.” Aelin’s tone was full of mock-indignation, but he didn’t feel as playful as she did right now.

“I know,” he repeated with a tight chest. When Rowan said he hadn’t taken Aelin out yet, he didn’t realize he hadn’t ever done that. They’ve gone out, yes, but never as a proper date. And this was one more thing to his ever-growing list of things he fucked up by not doing. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he said, with a deeper meaning than what he let on.

Aelin had a bright grin on, clueless to the guilt weighing on the back of his mind. “You better.”

˜˜

They arrived at his house at dawn, when another ambulance and team of instructors took over the same trainees.

He replayed every moment with Aelin on the way home, while she dozed on the passenger side. He stayed at the ambulance with “the trainees” (i.e., Aelin) longer than usual, but not enough Cairn could make a reasonable complaint. And Sergeant Allsbrook, the driver, definitely saw them flirting by the side of that ambulance, but Rowan’s touches were barely bordering the line between proper and not.

He’s not the type to worry about such things, but he couldn’t help it this time.

The trip through memory lane Lorcan dragged him to today wasn’t pleasant, and it weighed on his mind. Theirs is just one of the many sex scandals inside the Air Force—they happen every time, regardless of sexuality, age or rank. It never made anyone forget about his, though.

Rowan never minded it. It was such a scandal back then, the drill instructor’s suicidal affair with the Brigadier’s niece that led to imprisonment and a baby. Still, he wore the whispers surrounding him like an insignia on his uniform because he’d never feel ashamed of his own family.

But being a female officer, Rowan knows what happened five years ago impacted Aelin’s reputation differently than his.

She always played it cool and said she didn’t care, and he believed her, but still—

He banged his head against the steering wheel with a low groan, which made the car horn despite his efforts to keep it quiet.

Aelin jumped on her seat with the honk, her hand flying to her chest as she was brutally woken from her nap.

“I’m sorry.” Rowan kissed her cheek, his self-reproach making his throat even thicker because he was planning to carry her to bed.

She lazily shook her head and said, “S’alright. The drive’s over anyway.” Aelin pulled his lips to hers, but before he could deepen the kiss, she pulled away with a wrinkled nose.

“You stink.”

Rowan tried to keep a straight face at the sight of her mock-disgust and sleepy eyes, but couldn’t contain a snort.

“It’s almost as if I was training forty people in the mud,” he said, releasing her only to flick her nose.

“I’m only hearing excuses.” She undid her seatbelt and squinted her eyes at him. “What I want to hear is the shower running, or…”

“Or?” He raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide his smirk.

Aelin crossed her arms. “You don’t even even want to hear it, Officer.”

Unable to restrain himself, Rowan smacked another kiss on her—this one she didn’t protest—and ran to the shower.

If Aelin wasn’t used to his state after work, it’s because he usually showers there, before coming home. But she was with him today, and she looked so tired after their shift Rowan just wanted to take her home with him.

In the bathroom, he was even faster than usual. If military training made his showers quick, Aelin waiting for him in his bedroom was even more effective.

Not quick enough, given the way she knocked on the door.

“I’m almost done!” Rowan called, but it didn’t stop Aelin from opening it.

“Pity,” she said by the threshold, with her head tilted and body fully naked. “I was going to join you.”

His mind short-circuited, like it always did whenever Aelin took her clothes off.

Her smirk grew, like it always did whenever Rowan looked dumbstruck because of her.

“I can’t believe you’re letting a tub this big go unused,” she said while making her way to him.

Rowan didn’t have the heart to tell her he couldn’t even remember the last time he laid in that bathtub. It just came with the house.

Still, nothing was keeping Aelin from her tub bath. Not even the expired bath bombs she found in the back of his cabinet.

“You have to admit how nice it is,” she said after everything was ready and they were tangled together in it.

Rowan would never say it out loud and ruin the experience for her, but the only thing about this bath that undeniably appealed to him was the naked lady on his lap.

She sat straighter, looking around with a frown. “Where’s the body wash?”

Without a comment, Rowan outstretched his arm and grabbed it for her. He wouldn’t point it out and be a jerk, but it was the only bottle there.

“Not the shampoo.” She pointed at the bun that kept her hair dry. “The body wash.”

“That’s it.” Gods, he felt like such an ass to point out the obvious. Felt like… menlucidate? Mensplain? Elide taught it to Lorcan and Lorcan taught it to him. Rowan watched out for it ever since, and he wouldn’t stay on the subject if Aelin weren’t the one pressing on it. He pointed at the label. “It’s for the head… and shoulders. It’s both.” His finger trailed down to the description. “It’s 7 in 1.”

Aelin blinked one, three, too many times. Her mouth opened. And closed. When her chest and shoulders began to tremble, she clamped her mouth shut, biting the inside of her lip. But then she opened her mouth to speak, and it was like opening a dam. Her laughter boomed inside his bathroom, its sound ricocheting on the dull tiles as Rowan soaked it up into his every pore. She leaned into him after a moment, and he supported Aelin’s shaking body as he felt her wheeze against his neck.

He squeezed her waist and murmured, “What was that about?”

With no small amount of amusement, Aelin gave him a long explanation on why his soap not only didn’t work as a body wash, but was actually bad for the skin. She even bothered to read all the seven functions in tiny letters and, indeed, all of them were related to the hair and scalp.

“You’re telling me I bought a 7 in 1 soap… and not one of the seven functions is soap?”

Aelin shook her head and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You silly Buzzard.”

She put a little product on her hand, but Rowan stopped her with a hand to her wrist. “I thought it was bad for your skin?”

He could still find something else for her, even if it were Maisie’s baby soap. Rowan himself might be lacking in this department, but he followed Aelin’s every rule on how to take care of their daughter’s skin and hair.

After gently pulling her wrists free, she scrubbed her arms and shoulders. “Just this once won’t hurt.”

“Alright, then.” He dropped some shampoo on his palms as well, softly rubbing it over Aelin’s sides and tugging her closer with both hands on her ass.

With both arms loose around his shoulders, she gave him a lazy kiss, her tongue teasing his with slow strokes that didn’t match the pace of his heartbeat.

He broke the kiss. “Which soap do you like?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

Oh, but he would. Rowan frowned.

Her head tilted as she chuckled. “I mean it. I can bring one for myself.”

Well, that wasn’t an option. If anything, he could just go to one of the frilly shops at the mall he always mocked and get some lavender somethings for when she’s here.

Things with Aelin had been so easy lately, it was in moments like this that Rowan got the painful reminder that this was a trial test of sorts. And if she decided she’s actually better off without him, he just hoped to survive the crash. And in the meantime he’d be the most reliable, supportive partner because Aelin might think he deserves this second chance, but Rowan has yet to believe it himself.

“Hey.” She smoothed the crease between his eyebrows with her thumb. “Where’d you go?”

Rowan swallowed, his eyes fixed on her. “I love you.”

She leaned closer, stroking his cheek with a smile. “I love you too.”

He didn’t object as she dumped some of the shampoo into his short hair. Rowan closed his eyes as she scrubbed his scalp, melting away the tension in his shoulders. He didn’t even fight the goosebumps, just surrendered to Aelin’s fingers.

“You’re no better than a house cat,” she said, massaging his head. He let out a low noise in his throat that might very well have been a purr.

She pushed down on his shoulders, beckoning him to dunk under the water. When Rowan surfaced, he sat down straighter and pulled her for a kiss.

Aelin was soft and sweet as she opened her mouth to let him in, melting into his embrace. But then the mood shifted, her kiss as hungry as the fingers that traveled down his torso.

“I thought…” Rowan had to restart his brain as she shifted on his lap, teasing his cock. “You’re not tired?”

They hadn’t slept at all in the last 24 hours, so he wasn’t expecting—

“A quickie?” His mouth on her neck made her whimper, her voice faltering before she asked, “Please?”

“So polite,” he murmured and moved down to her wet breasts, giving them attention with either his mouth or hands, making Aelin quiver under his touch.

Since they were alone in the house, her loud moan when his mouth closed around her nipple was a small luxury for both of them. Aelin for letting loose, Rowan for what those sounds evoked in him.

He tangled his fingers in her hair to bring her mouth to his, and she didn’t protest at his damp fingers on her safely dry hair. Rowan groped the outline of her frame until his hand landed on the apex between her thighs, his fingers finding their way in her body blindly.

However, Aelin stopped him, increasing the distance between their hips as she broke their kiss, maintaining her face a breath away from his.

She grabbed his cock, handling it with such certainty one might think she was holding her favorite sex toy. Aelin gave it one, two pumps under water before guiding his tip to her entrance.

When she was about to sink down on him, she froze.

“Um.” Aelin cleared her throat, giving their hips a pointed look. “Do you mind if I…?”

“You don’t have to ask, baby,” Was all the warning Rowan gave before snapping his hips up, water sloshing out of the bathtub while she held onto him.

Aelin’s moan was long and the most delicious sound to hear, and she only needed a moment to adjust before riding him like a dream.

She held on tight to him, the roll of her hips and consequent whimpers were intoxicating, and Rowan could very easily lose his mind with the pressure of her walls squeezing his cock in. The water from the bath was already cold, but it didn’t stop the heat spreading under his skin, or the tension coiling in his already taut muscles.

Not used to the passive role Aelin put him in, Rowan held on to the side of the tub and thrust from underneath her, making her cry out from the added pressure.

“Fuck,” she panted, “Rowan—”

He turned her face to his by the roots of her hair. “Say my name again.”

A troublesome glint flickered in her eyes. “Fuck me like that again.”

And that he did, pounding his hips up with abandon while she took him with an arched back like the good girl she was. The sight of it alone was maddening. Water sloshing everywhere from Aelin’s hungry rhythm, her breasts bouncing as she did it, and her face contorted with pleasure.

Aelin’s hand disappeared underwater, between their hips, around the time Rowan noticed his own building pleasure was becoming too much. He swatted her hand away and replaced it with his own, rubbing her clit with slow circles.

He didn’t stop when Aelin’s hips stuttered, nor when her walls spasmed around him. Rowan could barely comprehend the strangled noises she let out before falling apart on top of him, because he was the one being pushed over the edge now. His tension snapping was the last warning he got before emptying himself inside of Aelin, and his body dissolved into pleasure while he pulled her for a hug.

“We’ve been in this tub for so long, I’m probably just a big wrinkle by now.” She held up one hand to make her point.

Rowan chuckled, took that hand and kissed each wrinkled fingertip. “We should go to bed.”

“I hope you didn’t plan a brunch date. I think I’ll be dead by brunch time,” Aelin said while detangling herself from him, reaching for her towel.

Rowan followed her, a funny feeling in his stomach while he watched her get ready to bed. With him. “We can do anything you want.”

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[irondadfics]

Hi! Looking for a fic where peter is a little kid in foster care and Tony is either his mentor in something (because peter is little genius) o his foster parent. I remember peter always carried a bag with his most important belongins since another foster kid told him that way he wouldn't have to leave anything behind. Thank you!

could this be your fic? This one doesn’t appear to be on AO3 but you can read it here