#don’t address me so familiarly

[neiptune]

I'm not recovering from this EVER tumblr user ms0milk

pitch in a teapot

sanemi x inn keeper

reader has a business to run and sanemi can't help but watch her do it well, barking orders, teaching firmly, smiling and scurrying around like a fancy little bell. There's something he's been trying to get out of you all afternoon but chores keep stealing you away. cw MDNI, frustrated thunderstorm quickie, reader w vagina + penetration, slight manhandling, desperation and a little bit of sass. 4.1k

thank you so much my darling @neiptune for requesting a little sanemi this @ficsforgaza season! you were so generous and patient waiting for this to come out, I hope you enjoy angel

Six bowls of soup upstairs and an old man somewhere in the bowels of the inn with a limp and half a shoe. Right, okay, send two girls to the garden– no. One to the garden and one to the kitchen. That’s dinner taken care of as long as the scholar with the fat pony– donkey, maybe– doesn’t regurgitate an encore of the rakugo performance that couldn’t have been funny in the first place.

You roll the sleeves of your apron slightly tighter in their tasuki. The cyprus walls of your inn bleed fragrance before summer thunderstorms so you make a mental note too, to order storm doors for the second floor before the clouds go black and blue. Incensed breeze, juniper, wisteria, paper windows, one foot, the next, again, each step down the wooden hallway is a quiet knock. Each summer at home is heavier, heavier, and this year is the flood.

“Oi.”

“Not my name,” you blow from the corner of your mouth without changing pace. That breath was ready to jump off your lip before the demon slayer even called out to you; he hates doing nothing and hates even more what great pains your staff take to avoid his room.

“It reeks.”

“Excuse me?” You huff and this time do turn enough to interrogate him via glare. Sanemi, ridiculous, folds his arms in the doorway of a very nice room, a too nice room, without any of the appropriate embarrassment of someone who has been lying in wait. The stippled blue pattern of his robes doesn’t suit him. They clash with his ugly scars and uglier attitude but don't keep him from wearing the chest wide open like a well paid rent boy.

“Stinks.”

“Whatever of, princess?”

He growls and drops his arms as you brace for the lecture, “Demons.”

His heart is incapable of peace and yours with it, and every summer he’s assigned a post in your mountains by a master you’ve never met and who couldn’t possibly be sane themself. Four years of this. Four years of twelve weeks of sixteen-hour-days of the world’s most neurotic demon slayer.

“The whole property is wide open for any fuck to attack.”

You adjust your grip on a slender bucket handle and the cloth in your other arm and continue back downhall, “You always say that.”

“I’m always right,” he nags and pushes free of his bedroom.

You met Sanemi when you were sixteen and still working under your parents. He was a brand new hashira then and prone to fist fights, spitfire, bloodshed. Nothing special. Nothing new. Hashira come and die and new hashira come again. They arrive in flashbangs and ego and leave like everyone else, in pieces.

Your parents were calm, they had peace and practice, they ran this inn, they welcomed Sanemi with his summer floods. They loved him, took his counsel and died by it, and they probably wouldn’t have lost an old man inside the house. But this is your inn now. They aren’t here anymore and at your inn sometimes old men get misplaced.

“And what would you like me to do about all that, sir?”

The hashira keeps an easy military pace behind you, “The gardens need to be reinforced and–”

“Nine acres of wisteria arbor need reinforcement? Yeah I’ll get right on that.”

“The storm will take out ha–!”

“And the other half will hold until autumn. Go berate the kitchen staff for their unpreparedness– they’re all unarmed you know? Totally unprofessional.”

“Y/n–”

“Shinazugawa,” you spin and it all comes out as a threat, a hiss, instead of just a whisper so much so that the water in your bucket nips up your sleeve. “I am the lady of this establishment and you will not address me so familiarly.”

Dark cyprus, cool hallways, the undeniable scent of thunder. Sanemi rests his hand on his sword to glare like he does when his hands don’t quite know what to do with themselves. His eyes roam, quiet under long lilly lashes until they have traced the shapes your tasuki makes with your waist and rise again to your gaze. “We’re not fucking finished.”

“Go eat,” you snap and turn back down the hallway, red at the ears. Lady of the establishment, great job.

Feet aren’t complicated, bone to tendon, tendon to muscle, muscle to skin, one step and another. You tilt your head back and an eager girl rises to wipe sweat from your temple.

“Like this,” you hum and tilt the old man’s heel in your palm. He winces but lets you continue while the girl stares on. “When the skin is split like this it can’t receive moisture– sorry sir, better?” You set his foot on the hammock of cloth between your thighs, “So you need to soak it first before applying salve. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” the girl parrots, still unable to look away.

“Yes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smile through an eye roll but gesture for her to come sit beside you. You’ve been like this since he’s met you, too old for your body.

You’ll train anyone who asks, hire any runaway girl, absorb the cost of thieves when runaways are exactly that, and you will wash old men’s feet before eating dinner with the self preservation of a samurai. Famously long-lived, those. Sanemi has to look away when you take scissors to the gnarled yellow nails and almost covers his ears when your pupil starts asking you questions about it.

“Feels good right?” You chuckle at the man’s response to your ministrations, and then a little louder, when you realize just how seriously the girl beside you is trying to focus. Birdsong. “Do you have companions on your pilgrimage, sir?” He shakes his head.

You lean away again so the girl can dab your brow and push back stray hairs and turn back to explain overdetailed care instructions to this man who is obviously so embarrassed he can’t hear a word you’re saying. Something about tallow and socks, Sanemi tries to read the syllables off your lips and loses focus the second time your teeth catch damp and pillowed pink.

The man seated in front of you grumbles some and flexes a few fingers around his cane like old men do, but doesn’t protest your instructions. He nods instead of thanking you like a real tough guy.

“Fetch a new pair of sandals from the garden shed,” you instruct your girl who bolts up and out the door past Sanemi without so much as a breath. “And you,” you turn back to your patient, “keep the nails short, you hear?”

He nods again, increasingly avoidant of eye contact. Sanemi tenses in the dark outside the guest’s complimentary room and hates ungrateful fucks enough for both of you.

“And don’t skip any more meals.” 

The man’s wrinkled skin unfolds at his eyes and he pulls his legs back underneath him. You dry your hands after scrubbing clean in a soapy pot and stand to collect your tools. “I couldn’t find you this evening and I hate to lose track of my guests at mealtime.”

You are going to feed every stray you find until the economy collapses. Peasant monks, pickpockets– you’d put up a demon if its stomach growled. After too many unnoticed minutes watching you, following the white x between your patterned shoulders, eating your voice, warming the hallway, you finally pick out Sanemi’s eyes in the dark behind the sliding door. He’s waiting for you. You clear your throat for the broke old pilgrim one last time, “You don’t owe any money. Do not skip meals.” And bid him a wordless good night. The door cracks shut behind you. It isn’t late enough for sunset. Thunderstorms make it so dark so quickly and they mask the scent of blood with all their rain and iron. “What is it?” You deadpan and shuffle towards the stairs with all the confidence in the world a tenured hashira will work to keep up with you.

“Not fucking finishied with you,” Sanemi grunts, working to keep up with you. The apron over your service kimono forces your hips to sway in tight little circles and Sanemi sucks his teeth. He doesn’t look away.

Through the hallway and down the servant stairs, socks on polished wood, you tap, tap, tap nimbly to your next assignment. The room below radiates heat and life. “What do you want?” you whisper.

“I–” he slips barefoot on the slick last step into the kitchen and you stumble in your newly damp right sock. “Euh, I–”

“Mimiko!”

“Lady?”

“Wet.” You point behind you, palming Sanemi out of the way, and a free washerwoman dives for the spot with the rag tucked into her belt. The kitchen rages silently in the easternmost corner of the mansion; men and women sweat over donabe, rinse their body weights in rice, and beat little fires with littler fans. Two women and a boy linger just outside the paper door in clothes that match yours for formality and Sanemi assumes as he weaves through the bustle, that they are responsible for bringing food to customers and for doing everything they can not to sweat through their pretty borrowed uniforms. Your own kimono is purple tonight, a cool little shape bobbing nimbly between flames.

Sanemi opens his mouth to shout after you and shuts it again just as quickly to grind his teeth instead as you lift your apron over your head. You let a girl feed you a spoonful of something on your way out of the room and she wiggles when you nod several times before ducking through the door.

Laundry next, then a double check of the firewood cache and the whole while Sanemi occupies your shadow. A few times you hiss over your shoulder at him for looking so gruff, for looking like a bodyguard, for making your customers imagine your distrust of them, always you bite back before he can get more than a few words out but mostly you just scurry in preparation for the storm picking up warm wind outside.

You avoid the entrance with him so close in tow, armed and obstinate, but make a show of circling both tatami halls where guests come after dinner on rainy nights to stretch and smoke by the brazier with strangers. A female musician trills her koto. The sky hasn’t let loose a single drop of rain yet but wet hangs like a fog and thunder scents the air ahead of its arrival. As Sanemi trails the outer walkway of the mansion behind you, the sky bleeds with the last of day’s light in the cracks between bruised and racing storm clouds.

“Second floor secure?” You confirm with the men slotting thick panels into grooves where paper doors usually go. They nod in their white uniforms. Beyond the porches, beyond the east garden and its fat green vegetables, beyond dogwood trees and sarusuberi and maples that have begun to tremble violently in winds buffeted by humidity and nightfall, the wisteria arbor glows. You radiate a cool purple pull beside him just like your flowers.

The arbor surrounds the property on all sides for half a mile and all three paths away from the house are barred by gates of twisting wisteria vine. The inn belongs to your family, but does not serve Ubuyashiki. Theirs is not the only house that discovered a use for these flowers. Yours is not the only wisteria business in the country. 

“Do you see that?” You murmur at so much the same tone as the wind that Sanemi almost cannot hear you.

Three years ago he left before the end of summer, called away to investigate a massacre nearby. A tree fell that season. It crushed a straight path through the edge of the mountain forest and onto your property where, lured by so much blood and wine, a pair of sister demons descended through the broken orchard and devoured everyone who wasn’t fast enough to hide in the flowers like the slayer suggested they should in an emergency. Your parents evacuated the house and died in it with the guests who couldn’t walk on their own. Nestled under three braided vines at the far edge of the property, you listened to them die.

The winds kick up sand from your vegetable garden and you step off the porch into the start of the storm. Tiny and purple. “Y/n!” Sanemi lunges for you. His sword whips the meat of his thigh and you step out of his way before he can grab any part he intended to. The men on the porch watch you both scramble through the backyard. You snap at the strange guest and duck when he swings a hand towards you, hop in your sandals when he tries to trip you into his arms and dart away like a dragonfly.

“Get back here!”

“Go inside!”

“Y/n!”

“How dare you!”

“Motherfucking, Y/n!” 

“That’s enough!” You bark and twist back towards the garden shed. Your pupil left the door wide open and all its shining tools caught your eye across the yard. Sanemi was staring when you stepped outside. His eyes feel like beads of sweat on the few bare parts of you. His gaze is all teeth on the back of your neck.

With all but one storm door up, not a single guest can hear the ruckus you two kick up outside in the prologue of the storm. “It’s about to pour!”

“Then go join the other guests!” You shout through a particularly violent breeze and you have to grip to the break in your kimono closed. He does not. By the time you lay a winded hand on the wall of the shed, it has started to rain.

A silencing wall of water falls from the back of the property straight towards you. It kills dust clouds in its path and paints every surface soaked in a perfectly straight line. Sanemi rushes from behind and nearly lifts you off your feet to get inside the shed as you watch the supernatural army advance on your home.

“Shit,” he grumbles and winces when the rain overcomes the little shed and splashes off the pavement into his face. He pulls you deeper inside and you jolt. The first crack of thunder is a scream that shakes the ground, “Scared of thunder now?”

“Scared of my profit margins, you oaf.”

Under his shoulder you are glaring at the storm between this shitty stuffy shed and your business. You are so small and wrapped so tightly in layer after layer of fabric. It must be hot. The damp drips down his open chest and thighs, it frizzes his hair at his ears. You must be sweating somewhere in that formal getup. Wet glistens at the curled little hairs on the back of your neck where the skin is just barely visible and it sparkles under your high collar.

“I can’t walk back inside soaked,” you groan, “there’s not enough time to change before final rounds.”

Sanemi takes his hand off his sword. There must be damp parts of you hiding from him. He brushes his knuckle up the bare skin of your neck, across your throat, and you falter slightly.

“Sanemi–”

“Nuh uh, don’t address me so familiarly,” he smirks and cups your cheek in his big hand when you jerk around.

“That’s not–!”

“Not what?” He smiles now, and drops his hand back to his sword so that you might find your own weapon and finish the fight. Four years of this.

You shove a finger into his chest, “You’re such a clingy fuck Shinazugawa,” and shout a little because you know the thunder will hide it. A sudden gust blows the sheet of rain sideways and straight inside the open door of the garden shed, up your dress and down his robes and through your prettily pinned hair. “Y/n this, y/n that, I’m busy Sanemi, I’m stuck in a shed! You’re the only one who calls me and people think we’re fucking! You want my attention you have it so please tell me all about the demons that’re gonna slurp up my customers and fuck my taxes to shit and–”

The door creaks in Sanemi’s hands even through the oceanic sounds of storm when he begins to close it. He nods as you get louder, nods as he slides the door closed and flicks the latch.

“Do not,” you growl, “there’s five thousand–”

“Five thousand little bitches in there lost without direction? They’re fine, Y/n.”

“Don’t call me that here.”

“They’ll survive, little lady.”

You spit, “not better.” And the new humidity of the closed shed begins to swallow you whole. It fills your throat. “What about all the demons you’ve been crying about?”

“You’re such a cocky cuss.”

“And you’re needy,” you taunt. It’s Sanemi’s turn to wince and his frustration starts to drip from all those places he shoves it away from you. He's been gentle with you since that summer. He lets you interrupt him, he follows where you go. “I watched you check perimeters this morning, you don’t need to talk to me about demons.”

“Eyes everywhere huh?” His throat is pink, “Lady of the house.”

You grin and pull him by the loops of his robe into your tiny purple kiss, “Shut up.”

“M’lady,” he growls against your lips and succumbs.

Four years of stolen touches, lips on damp summer skin, coming out of empty rooms too ruffled and pulling the hashira between your legs without disturbing the folds of your work kimono. “Don’t call me that either,” your breath hisses against his throat like an iron and he drops his sword quickly to gather you in his arms.

Too much fabric. Shovels and shears clatter against the floor and one another when the thunder shakes their little house again, and they tremble at every thump and roll of your body against Sanemi’s. He pulls your hips against his and guides your legs around his waist so he can sink into those soft parts of you. So he can tilt his head back to look up at you, so you can pour your kisses down his throat like wine.

You drag your nails up the back of his head when he offers his tongue to your lips, biting, suckling, drawing out gentle sounds and eating them before they compete with the rain outside. Where his hips dig into your own the folds of your skirt fall apart. Legs that glisten with sweat and rain part nicely for him and his own robes grow clingy with exertion where he grinds hard against you. Every subtle roll breaks your concentration in kisses, in lips sliding, begging with salvia and rainwater. His hands cup your cheeks, thighs, the collar of your kimono shudders open for him when he dips to suck bruises under your jaw and the swordsman’s hand loses control as he grips your belt to free you from all this formality. He’ll press crescents into your breasts, he’ll lower his tongue through your peach sweet folds and drink until you cry– but you pull his head back with a sharp yank of your wrist.

Your breath comes in clouds. The inn glows with candlelight across the yard but the light through the shed’s window is too weak. Welts of lighting illuminate the flush of your chest and cheeks. Two seconds of bright and twelve of dark warmth, shaking swirling thunder and then only rain. Sweat rolls from your temples and into the depths of your kimono. It’s been days since he’s had you like this and longer since you’ve had true privacy, others a whole yard away.

You can’t be gone long, he knows. Staff watched you race in here together, watched him shut the door, he knows he knows, he just can’t put you down yet. He leans in for another kiss and you let him fall close enough for his chest to crush yours before pulling back on his hair again.

“Y/n,” he’s suddenly not above begging but you hold his gaze tight. You watch him as your hand slips between the place your bodies meet. Pretty fingers reach for the heat between his legs. Pretty knuckles ghost over the swell of his robes and draw the fabric aside instead of ordering he bring you back inside. Sanemi’s cock perks up in free air as high as this position will let it and rests heavy under the swell of your ass.

He kisses you again, toothy and smiling and when you kiss him back your sharpest teeth clink together. He ruts into your desperation against the wall, harder than the rain, harder than the wind that threatens to blow your shed away and you with it. Obviously he wouldn’t let it but the thought that nature might be jealous of the rumple you made of each other drives him harder against you. Slipping, cock hard and suddenly shifted up against the hair under your belly. Peach fuzz yields to warm slick and Sanemi drops his head to your chest when he shudders to avoid whimpering into your mouth. He slips through your folds with a tight hold still under your thighs and drags himself up, down, up, hypnotized always by the faces you make when you’re trying to keep quiet.

The scars across his body are forever numb, but when your clammy hands paw is his chest he swears he can smell color. He can touch light when you pull his face back to yours frantically, when your hips with all their fabric flowing off of them buck sloppily against his, when he thrusts once deeply inside of you and forces a broken gasp from the back of your throat.

Before you can catch your breath your lips have crashed against his and his hips against yours. Sanemi keeps the relentless, restless, starving pace you like and knows he’ll last only the next few minutes before the worst of the storm blows over. Again and again he carves a palace for himself inside of you. You guide him with the falter of your kisses when he finds that perfect spot and with the slick that coats both of your thighs. Your voice escapes you in choked whimpers, his name comes out in hiccups. You’re a little bell in his arms folded in half and singing for him.

Again and again, out and so deep back inside, Sanemi’s feet grip the floor as he plunges his hips into yours and both of your bodies into the swelling wood walls. His rhythm staggers as you flutter around him and with his head against your shoulder he watches the circles you draw on your clit with the tips of four clumsy fingers as your other hand muffles your voice. He grabs that quieting wrist without thinking and without taking his eyes off the place your bodies connect with lewd squelches and sticky white threads. His threatening grip, his thick cock and your fingers push you right over the lip of your pleasure and fluttering becomes milking spasms quicker than Sanemi can think to treat you gently. That half-sobbing voice he loves so much cheers him towards his own climax and the more sensitive you grow the easier it is to coax those sounds out of you that you try to keep hidden, “Don’t– don’t be so quiet.”

“Inside,” you whisper in reply and draw his face into your hands as his pounding stutters in pace and loses all flow completely under your dreamy gazes. Sanemi can’t keep his eyes open when he cums. His pretty lilly lashes flutter with lost concentration. He shudders, ruts you deeper into the wall and groans with release as he fills those swollen wet parts of you. Warmth pools in your belly and trickles off his cock still buried. Sweat falls like the rain outside.

“Wanna taste,” Sanemi rumbles without setting you down or stilling his thrusts fully. He nuzzles somehow farther into the dip of your collarbones. Soft snow white hair, a heartbeat in the fingers that grip you. Every twitch of his hips is a starving ache.

“C'mon,” you grin, “dinner’ll get cold.”

“Let me taste you.”

“Sanemi, what will I eat if you eat me?”

“Have a few ideas,” he smiles back through the trembling of the shed in encores of thunder and gale. A leak tip tap tip taps nearby. Four years of this, maybe more.

[shanastoryteller]

🎂, Shana! Lady Mo?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

“I’m not riding in the carriage again,” Xuanyu says flatly. “You and Guangyao take it. Wangji and I will ride behind.”

Lan Xichen decides to focus on how heartening it is that Xuanyu is speaking both of his brother and his lover so familiarly and not how she’s being unnecessarily stubborn about this. “We just want to be cognizant of your health-”

“My health is fine and I’ll kick your ass to prove it,” she says flatly,

Sizhui slaps a hand over Jingyi’s mouth at the same time as he covers his face. It’s hilarious.

“Xuanyu,” Wangji says, eyebrows pushed together, “you have been more tired recently-”

Sizhui drops his hand to frown.

“I’m not going to fall asleep on the way there!” she protests. “We’re only taking disciples, we might as well fly, but if you want to ride I’m not going to stay stuck in the carriage again.”

“What if you do get tired?” Lan Xichen asks.

She rolls her eyes. “Then Wangji can carry me and you can rub it in my face for the rest of my life. Happy?”

Lan Xichen sighs and turns to A-Yao. “Don’t you have anything to say about this?”

“No,” he says, inspecting his nails. “Feel free to continue arguing with my sister and holding us up. She seems so open to persuasion.”

Lan Xichen considers how often arguing with A-Yao has yielded results in his favor, that A-Yao finds her likeminded enough to refer to her as his sister, and rapidly reevaluates his stance. “We’ll bring the carriage for everyone’s luggage and it’ll be there if you change your mind.”

As they’re leaving, he pretends not to notice Xuanyu hanging back with A-Yao and whispering, “How did you do that? Can you teach me?”

Wangji’s exasperated glance, however, tells him that any similar tricks Xuanyu tries on him are going to be all his fault.

She doesn’t get tired, or at least not enough that he can pick up on it. They stop at an inn to eat and to give the horses a change to rest before continuing the journey and they’ve just stepped inside when Xuanyu’s face lights up and she calls out, “Song Lan!”

The next moment she grimaces and flushes, as if she hadn’t meant to say that.

He turns, and sure enough the wandering cultivator is sitting at a table, uncharacteristically alone. Song Lan stands and bows to them, looking at Xuanyu in puzzlement before his face clears. “Ah, Lady Mo, it’s good to see you again.”

“You know each other?” Wangji asks.

Xuanyu keeps her mouth shut, but Song Lan nods. “We assisted in a cultivation issue at the Mo Manor many years ago. Lady Mo was only a teenager then.” He inclines his head to her. “It’s kind of you to remember us.”

Any issues at the Mo Manor should have been taken care of by the Jin, but Lan Xichen isn’t surprised by the negligence. Until he decided he needed a scapegoat for their treaty, Jin Guangshan seems to have ignored his daughter completely.

He considers correcting Song Lan’s address – she’s no longer Lady Mo, but Lady Jin – however Xuanyu hasn’t, and he knows she’s not fond of her father’s name.

Xuanyu waves a dismissive hand, her embarrassment at having called out to him apparently soothed. “Where’s Xiao Xingchen?”

His face darkens. “We parted way on bad terms a while ago. I’ve been attempting to find him to repair the damage, but it’s been more difficult than I anticipated. This village seems to be the last place someone saw him. A blind girl called A-Qing left with him, but I haven’t been able to find either of them.”

[angelfoxx]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° “I’M…WHAT?”

…in which they give you a pet-name.

FEATURING: albedo, alhaithem, ayato, & beidou.

WARNINGS: none!

NOTE/S: still hoarding requests 🥱 i kinda wanna do more of these, lmk if u want me to!

ALBEDO

✧ For once in his life, the genius is stumped. Sort of. Calling you a nickname rather than just your name is unheard of for him — the furthest he’s gone with addressing someone familiarly would be dropping Kaeya’s title and regarding him simply as “Kaeya” — so it’s not too wild that he’s a bit worked up over how to address you. Does he have to ask you first? Is it considered kinder if he does? What if you don’t like it? What is he supposed to call you? He’s initially trying to take inspiration from his surroundings in Dragonspine, but considering his only living company consists of hilichurls, slimes, and Fatui agents, he decides there’s little to no appropriate inspiration in the mountains. When you come to visit and tag along on another of his expeditions and stumble across a flower — a little white-petaled thing that has a scientific name that you’d perhaps find boring and that you instead call a “snow flower” — he gets his little aha! moment. He ask if you like the flower — like, really like it, to the point where you get a little confused — but the next time you visit, he greets you with a smile and a fresh one he has definitely been working on growing in abundance SPECIFICALLY for you and replaces your name with “snow flower.” Eventually slips up and calls you ��my snow flower”. Kaeya finds out and thinks it’s fucking hilarious.

ALHAITHEM

✧ The mere concept of sweetening up your name makes him slightly embarrassed. Yes, you two are…something, but he keeps up that half-scholar, half-anti-relationships wall pretty hard. He feels weird not — everyone else in relationships calls their partner by some cute nickname, not their full governmental address first name, so shouldn’t he? Sure, he’s not at all a follower of what everyone else does, but when it comes to untouched territory he has never had a relationship or sex ever argue with the wall he gets a bit confused. This isn’t the kind of thing he can study or debunk for himself, and so he now has to take on the difficult role of finding a nickname for you that isn’t weird, makes you feel good and doesn’t make him flustered. Spoiler, that last point will not be met, ever. He’ll hide it pretty well, sure — he’s bit abrasive and quick anyways — but the first time he chokes over calling you something as simple as “hon” (he was going for “honey” and did not quite get there) he seemed awful eager to get moving on task again. If you question it, he just sort-of defensively asks if you don’t like it. When you say you like it, he just sort of looks at you and goes “okay” and continues with whatever he was doing. When you first address him by the same name, he ignores it but, huh, his ears flush a little. Funny. Corner him about it later, would you?

AYATO

✧ He’s not shy about doing it. Actually, he gets a little enjoyment out of seeing you get a little flustered if he calls you something other than your name — he’ll do it much more in private, considering that he has a reputation to keep. Calling you pet names in public would probably not bode well for him and his stature. However, when it’s just the two of you, or maybe you two and Ayaka, or even if you two are just roaming the estate, he’ll drop a nickname. He experiments with a few — nothing lewd, of course, he prefers the classy ones — just to see which one gets you the most. His options include sweetheart, darling, and honey, though his eventual choice is a simple love. It’s cute and it’s simple and it makes you flush so nicely. It isn’t uncommon for you to be about the estate doing your own personal commissions and he’ll pass by, perhaps in the company of one of the estate guards, and greet you with a quick “good morning/afternoon/evening, love” and continue on as if he’d never said anything beyond casual small talk.

BEIDOU

✧ She’d start calling you one casually; maybe “darlin” or something similar. The first time she does it, you flush and she asks if it’s alright; when you say yeah, she just laughs and then continues on with whatever she’d been saying. This name, however, does not stick or at least it doesn’t outside of the bedroom because you get yourself a new one. Upon finding a closed chest filled with riches, she had exclaimed “treasure!” to which you’d jokingly responded to. She found it funny, you found it funny, and now you’ve been dubbed “treasure”. The rest of the crew, definitely including Kazuha, tease you about it. Just a little. It isn’t uncommon for someone to jokingly use her name for you — “behind you, treasure!” or “on your left, treasure!” — only to be quickly added onto by the rest of the ship. Think along the lines of “hey, be careful, that’s Captain Beidou’s treasure”, something that manages to get you just a little flustered. She thinks it’s funny to watch you get just a little embarrassed, and she’ll jump in on it if she’s a few drinks too deep, but mention it bothering you and she’s quick to shut down any and all teasing about your name.

[ina-nis]

Because I’ve been thinking about it again, I want to talk about a passage in Pessoa’s Book of Disquiet...

(…) Wherever I’ve been in my life, in whatever situation, wherever I’ve lived and worked alongside other people, I’ve always been considered an intruder or, at the very least, a stranger. Among my relatives as among my acquaintances, I’ve always been thought of as an outsider. Not that even once have I been treated like that consciously, but other people’s spontaneous response to me ensured that I was.

I am... not sure why this happens. I, too, feel this way all the time. Even around peers, even around others (seemingly) like me, even though I know not a single person is 100% like another, and we’re all unique in our own particular ways - that’s not the issue after all... what I’m talking about, what I sense is this unshakeable alienation.

I don’t know what to do about it.

It’s not lack of knowledge, nor it is me denying my differences and similarities with others. I know all that already, it doesn’t help me feel any less alienated and that’s probably because they don’t feel the pain I feel...

Everyone everywhere has always treated me kindly. Very few people, I think, have had so few raise their voice against them, or been so little frowned at, so infrequently the object of someone else’s arrogance or irritability. But the kindness with which I was treated was always devoid of affection. For those who would naturally be closest to me, I was always a guest who, as such, was well treated, but only with the attentiveness due to a stranger and the lack of affection which is the lot of the intruder.

Yes, people extend their kindness out of politeness or because they truly care but it really doesn’t matter, does it? A kindness that is a pleasantry, devoid of affection, devoid of closeness, devoid of intimacy - the “normal” kind of kindness.

The problem is me. I’m looking for something else entirely. Not (only) kindness, but affection.

I’m sure that the source of all this — I mean other people’s attitudes towards me — lies principally in some obscure intrinsic flaw in my own temperament. Perhaps I communicate a coldness that unwittingly obliges others to reflect back my own lack of feeling.

Yeah... the sense there something really wrong with me and people notice, and that drives them away, despite my best efforts at improving and changing. It’s hard to not blame my very existence for that, huh? But if I start blaming myself and seeing this is a hopeless matter, then I cement these beliefs that I’m immutable and inherently “wrong”.

It’s not helpful but I don’t know what to do.

I’ve noticed this is a pattern for many, many other people who are alone. Despite their efforts at bettering themselves and trying to be more sociable/likeable, people just don’t seem interested, or never for long enough, or never being on the same page regarding relationships and like... yeah, I get it.

I’m severely mentally ill, and so are so many of these people, going to therapy can only do so much. Trying self-improvement can only do so much.

It’s hard to improve individually from a social issue.

I get to know people quickly. It doesn’t take long for them to grow to like me. But I never really gain their affection. I’ve never experienced devotion. To be loved has always seemed to me an impossibility, as unlikely as a complete stranger suddenly addressing me familiarly by my first name.

(…) I always wanted to please and always found other people’s indifference wounding. As an orphan of Fortune I have, like all orphans, a need to be the object of someone’s affection. I’ve always been starved of the realization of that need. I’ve grown so accustomed to this inevitable hunger that, at times, I’m not even sure I still feel the need to eat.

Yes, love... in particular, romantic love.

There’s so much pain in this I guess, because you feel so much, and so intensely, and doesn’t receive it back, or at all. You love with all your might while receiving what looked like crumbs of feelings - maybe that’s all they can give you, maybe for them it’s not “crumbs”, you’re just too needy, too clingy, too desperate and you’ll consume them whole. That’s a scary thought.

People like you, they even love you, but it’s not fulfilling for you because you need something else. Why can’t they adore you (like you do them)? Why can’t they want you (like you want them)? Why do you feel like you’re never even considered a thought, as an object of their desire and affection (as they are yours)?

With or without it, life still hurts me.

Yes, life does. That’s one of the many unfortunate things about being alive.

I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if one could experience joy and happiness in a way that feels sustainable and intense, but instead, they feel pain despite the joy, and pain because of the joy too.

Life feels as if it was perpetually painful, as if it was a collection of brief joyful moments and little happinesses that existed in a foundation made out of agony. The agony is not brief, it’s neverending.

Others have someone who is devoted to them. I’ve never had anyone who even considered devoting themselves to me. That is for other people: me, they just treat decently.

It’s so painful, isn’t it? To not be chosen. To go through life all alone - “but you’re never truly alone” I know that. Does it matter? I am alone now, I feel alone now, because I don’t feel close to anyone in particular, because my life is devoid of the affection and love and intimacy, all things I crave and that make me suffer.

I receive kindness, I receive connections that feel good but they don’t give me what I need. I’m treated well and yet I feel like there’s the huge gape between me and the others, and the distance only gets bigger as time passes, until these connection are no more.

I recognize in myself the capacity to arouse respect but not affection. Unfortunately, I’ve done nothing that in itself justifies that initial respect and so no one has ever managed fully to respect me either.

People don’t see me in the way I see them. They don’t look at me with eyes filled with passion and a desire for closeness and to become intimate.

It hurts me that this makes me unable to sustain these connections, as I grow weary and resentful, not having my needs met. I almost don’t want to be liked or respected if that means I’ll have a bunch of one-sided relationships with others.

I’m aware this makes me a bad friend and person to be around, but can I help it? Can I help my feelings? Can I just control it and tell myself to be okay with it? Can I just “get over it” and “be normal” and not let resentment take over? If I could, I don’t think I would be in such sorry state, feeling cornered and stuck in some helpless predicament such as this...

[nappingmoon]

sukuna starts varying the way in which he adorns his bracelets. some days, all four are on one arm. on others, he will only wear them on the wrists of his left arms.

you start a daily bet with uraume. if you guess closer to the correct answer, you get to peel your own fruit that morning. if they win, they do it. you had begun peeling your own fruit as a small gesture of independence in a palace in which nearly everything is done for you. you’re willing, however, to give up this small sliver of independence in order to get them to play along with you.

sometimes, sukuna will indulge you with a morning stroll. this morning you had guessed his bracelet placement correctly, the set evenly split on his upper two limbs. while out, the giddiness of the earlier success gives you the confidence to ask a favor.

“my lord, if I may, I have a request today.” you ask, head bowed.

sukuna stops in his steps, curious. you don’t often address him so formally. you are the one being allowed to call him by his name, without the presence of honorifics or the need to avert your eyes. and yet.

“I have told you before you needn’t call me that. if you insist upon addressing me as your lord I can take that permission away, woman.” he grunts.

with a quick bow, you tilt your head back up, letting your eyes find his. “no, kuna, that’s alright, I was just a little nervous. you see I-” you stop, trying to figure out how to word your request.

ever impatient, sukuna urges you to cease your overthinking with a gruff “out with it.”

quickly, quietly, you string the words together. “would you be able to carry me on this walk?”

an eyebrow raise is all the change in expression you get in reaction. you take the quiet as a rejection and a sign to keep walking. turning, you extend your leg so as to continue, but don’t even make it a full step before you are stopped in your tracks.

the world turns rapidly as you’re swept off your feet. disoriented, you let out a surprised yelp before finding yourself perched high in the air. you regain your bearings and find yourself in the crook of sukunas upper left arm, holding his shoulder for stability.

“you’re bold for making such a request and then trying to run off without waiting for an answer, little human. you’re amusing.” you feel his answer reverberate through his chest, the vibrations reaching you where you’re pressed against him.

you relax in his hold, letting your chest wrap around his shoulder and bringing your arm around to run your finger through his hair. with your other arm, you reach down, fingers playing with the beads of the two bracelets there. contentedly, you place a kiss just below his second eye.

a loud yelp is heard through the gardens, causing heads to turn and scaring birds out of their nests. it’s followed by a hearty chuckle— the laugh a familiarly dangerous one, usually reserved for mocking people begging for mercy or a reaction to others’ misfortunes.

the smug bastard summoned a mouth on his hand and nipped your calf.

thinking about making sukuna four friendship bracelets. one for each arm. he makes fun of you, but you notice he never goes anywhere without them.

one day, in a battle, some unlucky fool manages to snag the cord of the bracelet in his attempt to slay the king of curses. he misses his target, of course, but the delicate string snaps, and the beads go falling in the wake of the attack. enraged, sukuna has his hand around the throat of the assailant before the first bead even touches the ground.

what was going to be a quick death turns into hours of torture. the mortal begs mercy— though for what, he knows not. sukuna does not explain the sin which he has transgressed, simply making do on the necessary punishment. a bone broken for each bead now tarnished by the blood and grime that they roll in.

—

sukuna does not apologize for losing the bracelet; he is a king and he apologizes to no one. he does, however, bring you the skull of the man who broke it. it is laid on a silver platter and placed outside the door to your chambers. next to the skull lays a note which, in uraume’s neat script, says “make another bracelet. I expect it to be done by tonight.” followed by a small smear of blood— his way of stamping his messages.

no one has broken another bracelet of his since.

[taughtdefense]

you groan loudly, burying your face into sam’s shoulder as your phone continually—very loudly—pings with text messages from your long list of friends & notifications from your various social medias, all of which are wishing you happy birthday. your phone is getting so hot it might explode. you had to take the case off of it minutes ago. you honestly just kind of want to go back to sleep, keep @taughtmercy wrapped up in your arms for as long as possible, the heat of robby’s body behind you comforting. you’re all cozy in the middle of your bed. although... you should probably get out of bed soon, because the threat of hawk, charlie, marcy, talia & dami dragging you up out of bed for a day of fun out in the valley is high… worryingly high. you’re just kind of hoping that you have a chill day. but with your large circle of friends, family & partners, asking for a chill day is pretty much impossible. there’s definitely going to be a flurry of activities at some point, dragged everywhere throughout the valley no doubt, which is why you’re taking the time to actually enjoy a lazy morning with your partners.

❝ yes, yes, i know, everybody. i’m the birthday boy today. ❞ you grumble in annoyance, sighing while you plant a little kiss to sam’s bare shoulder. all of your instincts are soothed because she’s clad one of your t-shirts—& a pair of tory’s shorts, you notice. there’s a familiarly-colored bright red lipstick kiss mark on sam’s cheek—tory’s doing when she’d slipped out of bed ten minutes ago, pulling miguel out of their bedroom too. you hope to god that your fiancée didn’t enlist your fiancé into grabbing a truckload of presents & depositing them into the apartment anywhere they’d be able to fot. ( you may have done a small, quick internal sweep last night… you didn’t sense anything like that in the apartment, hidden away someplace. ) because honestly, you really don’t have the need to have anything gift-wise—nothing has ever really sprung to mind.

yep. you still think human customs are a little weird.

absentmindedly, you reach down to take sam’s hand in yours, running your knuckles over sam’s engagement ring. you hum softly as you entwine your fingers with hers. your hair is a mess—miguel had ruffled your hair before untangling himself from bed, & you don’t feel like fixing it. maybe you could ask sam to run her fingers through your hair, or robby… you do like it when your partners do that. it makes you very happy.

( & you are the birthday boy, after all. )

❝ hey… babe, my love, ❞ you address sam first, then robby, ❝ on a scale from one-to-ten, how much do you want to bet that moon & emma planning on throwing me a big birthday party for me later? ❞ you feel a sense of dread just by thinking about it. they already are; emma’s, icarus’s, & charlie’s house is where the party is being held—mostly because they have a gigantic pool & a backyard with lots of space, you suspect. ) your eldritch senses stretch out to search for your other partners, & your expression goes soft as you sense tory & miguel in the living room, getting a read on their heartbeats.

❝ i really, really hope tory isn’t texting anyone to bring up presents. ❞ you mumble, planting another gentle kiss to sam’s shoulder, a tiny spark igniting in your blood as a thought crosses your mind. hmm… maybe you could get your two partners back into the room—away from any scheming with presents or plotting your friends, assuming that’s what tory is doing.

unsurprisingly, because you’re you, you pretty much hit that nail on the head. miss nichols-wilson is very much scheming, in fact—she’s texting their friends, but in a separate group chat, one that decidedly doesn’t have you in it. ( that’d ruin the whole planning thing. ) the others are trying to distract you so you don’t suspect anything. …but sam & robby seem to be doing that perfectly, intentionally or not.

❝ i love you, both of you, so fucking much. ❞ you whisper to sam & robby. you lean down to kiss sam sweetly, warm hands slowly sliding down her sides. they stop to settle on her hips, & you immediately pull her into you in an almost protective hold. having sam & robby here like this warms every inch of your true self’s form. you seem to be glowing with how safe, loved, protected & happy you feel. an immeasurable amount of contentment thrums through your body, warm & addicting. it’s like a weight has been lifted off your whole body. you didn’t have any nightmares last night. that’s an incredibly rare occurrence for all of your lifetimes.

[existentialmagazine]

Review: Katie Keddie’s new resonant indie-folk single ‘last weekend’ hums through acoustically landed sound mixed with poignant, confessional words

Based in Nottingham, the indie-folk artist Katie Keddie has been bearing her ethereal sound to the masses since her 2019 beginnings. Since that debut of her first single ‘Eighteen’, Katie has found her songwriting resonating across the country, playing at venues and festivals across the UK with an always unforgettable presence.

Keeping things fragile yet comfortingly warm all at once, Katie’s newest single ‘last weekend’ authentically stirs like a night sat around the campfire with close friends, caught in the chilling air and without the facades of real life in place, simply existing detached from the rest of the world. The sound subdued these visions into a similarly lingering ambience, entwining both the upbeat twang of alt-country with the wistful tones of folk for something deeply acoustic but comforting in its presence.

Opening with slow beats, a country-esque banjo riff and acoustic guitar strums, ‘last weekend’ envelops you in a sound that’s like the auditory equivalent of safety, a respite that’ll hold your bleeding heart in its hands when you need it most. Described familiarly by Katie as ‘sad-girl-indie’, it’s also sure to resonate with fans of a widely-spanning sound headed by acts like Phoebe Bridgers and Clairo, carrying the signature intimacy with Katie’s own edge. The verse settles from this whimsical opening like the surface of water, finding a tranquil state in steady drums, delicate guitar strums and occasional intermittent banjo, capturing a more melancholic moment with the most sincerity. Katie’s soft delivery hums through this glowing arrangement, low-toned and backed up by whispery backing vocals for an added sense of secrecy to her personal words.

Katie’s narrative feels just as confessional, opening up about the relationship between herself and another (whether it be a lover, a friend or a family member), seemingly stuck in an unknown middle-ground they both scarcely tip-toe around. From one of the opening admissions, ‘we’d always be like this, something I can’t fix’ , the more tumultuous nature of their relationship is quickly addressed. Seemingly yearning to piece the destruction of their relations, Katie’s words pine for a reality where it can indeed be fixed, an all-too relatable plea we’ve all often found ourselves in when matched with incompatibility. It’s hard to know whether Katie’s pained lines seek to walk away from this either, always just quite finding her way back yet very much aware they might never reach an understanding. Further lyrics like ‘I’m not coming up to see your show, too proud to really let me know the reason why, we both know you’re lying’ show even more unease between them, unacknowledged tensions and misbehaviours while putting on a front of everything being quite alright. Fearful to exchange words, Katie reveals ‘typed up a message I won’t send, should’ve spoken to you last weekend, I’m tired of ignoring but I’m so scared I’ll blow it’ , indicating the avoidance their situation brews and the weight of each word that could disrupt or mend in the swift press of a button.

The chorus settles these thoughts for just a moment, distracting your mind back to the gorgeous instrumental arrangement that weaves between banjo, guitar, deep piano notes and continued drums, all the while Katie’s vocals cascade from highs to lows. While realising ‘I don’t want it to be like this’ , the sound finds itself enveloping her in a momentary shield, blissfully finding peace through the pain. Between love and loss, ‘last weekend’ finds itself in a stalemate, holding both and yet neither all at once.

Listen to ‘last weekend’ for yourself here to truly understand the emotions that seep between this tender release, with Katie’s words sure to resonate in some way regardless of whom you find her words connecting to.

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

Photo Credits: Unknown

// This coverage was supported and created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

[usernamerenn]

if it’s you

pairing — sano “mikey” manjiro x f!reader

summary — mikey only ever shows his true self with two people, you and his son

note — spoilers. mikey, i love you! likes and reblogs are always appreciated

Cold and emotionless were the two words that would perfectly describe Bonten’s leader, Sano Manjiro. He was a man feared by many because of his overwhelming power and influence, but what made him truly terrifying was his ability to apathetically sentence others to death and suffering without any regard for the people he condemned. This was what made him so feared and why the three subordinates standing before him refused to say a single word, afraid of further angering their boss.

“Mikey will be speaking now,” Sanzu addressed solemnly, gesturing to the man currently sitting on the couch. His leader’s expression was one of complete boredom as he stared at the men in front of him.

“I gave you one job,” Mikey stated plainly, his tone low and quiet as he casually rested his arm on the back of the couch. “Yet you still somehow managed to fuck it up. Whose fault was it?”

None of the three men made any motion to speak, their eyes distant as they stared into three different directions, unable to meet their boss’s scary and demanding gaze. A displeased scoff immediately rang out from Mikey’s right as Sanzu began to draw his gun and threateningly take aim, but Mikey signalled for his second-in-command to be patient as he awaited his answer.

“So you’re saying that it’s no one’s fault? Or are you guys trying to say that it’s all of your faults?” Mikey tried to reason from the men’s lack of response, an ever-present glare now on his face.

Suddenly, a series of incomprehensible replies replaced the once deathly silence of the room, the three men panicking as they all tried to come up with some sort of excuse to spare themselves from their boss’s wrath. However, their indiscernible answers only served to annoy Mikey more than anything, and he was tired of being merciful.

“I don’t care!” Mikey suddenly shouted, his anger now making itself known. “I want a single fucking answer, so you better start-”

“Dad!” a familiarly cheerful voice suddenly interrupted, causing everyone to freeze as a young boy ran into the room with an excited smile on his face. “Dad, look at what I drew at school!”

“Shinsuke, be careful,” you quietly reprimanded your son as you watched him run to his father without any concern for the dangerous scenario he had just walked into. “I-I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t know if you were busy, and Shinsuke wanted to-”

“It’s fine,” Mikey quickly reassured, the anger that once painted his face completely gone as he greeted Shinsuke with an uncharacteristically gentle smile, his son now happily sitting beside him. “Hey, Shin. What did you draw, buddy?”

“I drew you and me and mom!” Shinsuke explained animatedly, pointing to each of the three people on his piece of paper. To anyone else, Shinsuke’s drawing would have simply looked like a colourful collection of random scribbles, with each person in the drawing looking completely unrecognizable from who they were supposedly meant to be. However, to Mikey, his son’s drawing was a work of art that rivalled even the greatest of world-renowned painters.

“It’s great, Shin,” Mikey remarked sincerely, his heart warming when he saw his son’s proud and happy smile. “I’ll make sure to frame it and put it on my desk, okay?”

“Okay!” Shinsuke gladly agreed, suddenly remembering something important as he got two dorayakis from his backpack. “Mom and I bought these on our way here. Here, dad, it’s your favourite. We can share them.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Mikey replied with an affectionate chuckle before his eyes quickly shot over to his three subordinates, who had been quietly standing there, silent and unmoving. “Shinsuke, I’m kind of busy right now, so can go wait with your mom in one of your uncles’ offices? I’ll talk to you both as soon as I’m done here, all right?”

“All right, dad!” Shinsuke answered happily, leaving his drawing and a dorayaki in his father’s care as he hurried over to you while waving goodbye to everyone. “Bye, dad! Bye, Uncle Haru! Bye, misters!”

Unlike your son, you simply offered everyone a timid smile before you held onto Shinsuke’s hand and left the room as soon as possible, knowing that your husband was not in the best of moods right now. Watching you and Shinsuke leave his office, Mikey redirected his sharp gaze to his three subordinates, his face devoid of any previous emotions as he glared at them once more.

It was almost as if he was a completely different person now that his family was gone, and in a stupid attempt to appeal to his boss’s sentiments, one of the men offered Mikey a shaky smile before nervously asking, “I-is that your family, boss? They remind me so much of my own wife and kid! Y-your son looks so much like you-”

“Who gave you permission to speak, let alone look at my wife and son?” Mikey asked coldly, instantly bringing the temperature of the room down by a couple of degrees, and the man immediately knew he had made a great mistake.

“N-no one, sir! I’m sorry, sir! Please forgive me, sir!” the man instantly responded, falling to the floor as he begged for forgiveness.

Mikey said nothing as he continued to glare at the man, his face now leaning against his hand as he placed his arm on the couch’s armrest, his silent demeanour and posture resembling that of a cruel and contemptuous king who was seated on top of his throne. This anxious silence went on for a few seconds before Mikey spoke again, his words deliberate as he gave his subordinates one final warning. “Well? I’m still waiting for my answer.”

tokyo revengers taglist �� @crown5​​

[lostbbygorl]

FATE AND HATE: EREN YEAGER X F!READER (PART 2)

SYNOPSIS: After 14 years, Y/N meets her least favorite ex and worst heartbreak. Walking out isn’t that easy when it turns out he’s her son’s chemistry teacher, still as stubborn (and handsome) as ever, and dead set on a second chance. Transfer schools and get a new place? If only she had the money to… 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“ You better be fucking shitting me” Y/N whimpered mentally, gritting her teeth and trying not to hyperventilate as Eren made his way towards her. The past 14 years treated him kindly. He was more buff and had a more defined face. He had the slightest honey tan. Eren went all out today with his navy blue blazer and slim black tie and neatly ironed blazers and his Balmain loafers (a gift from his half brother).

“ Ummmm…do you guys know something I don’t?” Elijah asked, looking back and forth between Y/N and Eren. Eren smiled placidly at Y/N’s emotionless face, tilting his chin towards the boy.

“ Shall we get on with what I came to talk to you about then, Mr. Yeager?” Y/N cleared her throat. Eren pulled up a chair for her, and went on the other side of his desk to sit himself on his chair.

“ Elijah, wait outside till I call you in” Eren instructed, watching Elijah swiftly walk towards the door and then out of it.

Y/N tried to hold her racing mind by its reins, scratching her palm and fixating her eyes on the little fraction of the white tiled floor that wasn’t covered by the legs of the chair or her legs or dress. What could she say? How do you start a conversation with the father of your child who you haven’t seen in 14 years?

Her train of thoughts came to a crash when Eren suddenly jumped out of his chair and went behind hers. With his strong arms, he turned her chair around.

Eren cut off Y/N’s stammering with his lips. Silence fell in the room as Eren massaged her lips. It was a feverish kiss and it was sudden. The empty cave in his heart filled with rubble and gems as soon as his lips came in contact with hers.

Y/N was frozen in her spot. Paralyzed by bitterness and shock. Eren’s lips were warm, but they only coated her lips now, they no longer warmed her heart. Once she came back to her senses, she pulled away with some effort and gasped for air, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together in her mind. What just happened? A familiarly unfamiliar kiss, or a romantic nightmare?

“ I made doing that one of my life goals that day at the graduation ceremony, you know” Eren wistfully smiled.

“ Should’ve done it 14 years ago. That kiss was a waste of energy, Mr. Yeager”

“ Call me Ren. Or Renbo. Or Eru” Eren listed the old nicknames she used on him.

Nostalgia hit Y/N like a truck! Nostalgia usually sent her to a dreamlike state. Nostalgia was a fuzzy, comforting feeling. But any nostalgia linked to this man was bitterness and anger disguised as a ripe, shiny fruit promising nectar and instead offering venom upon first bite.

“ You met Elijah, your son”

“ And he’s beautiful and everything a father could ask for in a son”

“ You never even asked for a son, Mr. Yeager, so how would you know what to ask for in one?”

“ Call me Eren, please. I wanna skip the formalities”

“ WELL WHY SHOULD I EVER ADDRESS YOU INFORMALLY AGAIN? YOU COME BACK INTO MY LIFE 14 YEARS AFTER YOU PRACTICALLY CALLED ME AND MY CHILD A NUISSANCE AND THEN YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO ACT LIKE ALL THE SHIT I WENT THROUGH IN THE MIDDLE DIDN’T HAPPEN?”

“ I WAS 18, Y/N! I WASN'T READY FOR A CHILD”

“ WELL THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD’VE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE DRAGGING ME INSIDE THE CAR WITH NO PROTECTION”

“ OH FOR GOD’S SAKE, THAT WASN’T OUR FIRST TIME! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT-”

“KNOW WHAT? BASIC 7TH GRADE BIOLOGY?”

The swinging sound of the door momentarily interrupted their fight. A pale, quivering Elijah walked inside the room and stood in front of Y/N, eyes twitching and breaths heavy. Y/N fought back her tears with everything she had.

“ Mom, please tell me the conversation I just overheard is a big prank” Elijah quietly said. Y/N was silent. Eren stared at his son with a new, uncharacteristic nervousness on his face.

“ Mr. Yeager isn’t my missing father right? My theory on dad being dead is correct, right? OH GOOD LORD, MOM, YOU ALWAYS GAVE THE VAGUEST FREAKING ANSWERS WHEN I ASKED ABOUT DAD, NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO GO WITH THAT OPTION AGAIN! TELL ME, MOM, IS THIS ASSHOLE REALLY MY DAD?” Elijah bellowed so loud he was sure the neighboring school heard him.

“ Don’t you dare use that tone on your mother” Eren growled.

“ Oh, now you wanna start parenting? Where have you been for the past 14 years?”

“ Eli, listen-”

“ Oh, so I’m Eli now? Not ‘Mr. L/N’ or ‘problem child’”?

“ You called my son a problem child?” Y/N said, appalled.

“ I didn’t mean it-”

“ You don’t ever mean anything you do or say, now do you, pops?”

“ Elijah, come on, just give me a chance to explain myself-”

“ No, I am not allowing you to talk to my son anymore”

“ HE’S OUR SON, NOT JUST YOURS”

“ HE’S BEEN MY SON FOR THE PAST 14 YEARS, EREN. YOU MAGICALLY GAINING SOME INTEREST IN HIM DOESN’T CHANGE SHIT!”

“ I CAN’T BELIEVE MOM EVEN BREATHED IN YOUR DIRECTION BACK IN THE DAY”

“ GOD, BOTH OF YOU, SHUT THE HELL UP AND LET ME EXPLAIN MYSELF!” Eren kicked the chair, successfully silencing his ex and son so that he’d have the chance to speak.

“ Elijah, I owe you an apology for mistreating you in class. I’m truly sorry I did that. You’re a great student and your lash out at me was more than justified, and I should’ve been present all your life but I wasn’t. I never meant anything I said to you in class, it was all bullshit. And I’ve known you were my son since the first day I met you. Actually, it was just my guess, but it turns out I was right” Eren rubbed his hands together.

“ Wait, how would you know that I’m your son upon first meeting?” Elijah, questioned him.

“ Your last name. That’s Y/N’s maiden name. She gave you her maiden name and not my surname, understandable. But that wasn’t it, have you ever noticed just how alike we look, Eli? You have my eyes and my nose and my eyebrows. You have my height and my little quirky habits and even my laugh. Eli, if I were younger, I could pass as your twin”

“ I hate to admit it, but you’re right,” Elijah murmured. The boy rubbed his face like it was paper and his hands a giant eraser.

“ But anyone could have green eyes and the surname L/N, Eren” Y/N pointed out.

“ I kept telling myself that, but I wanted to take a chance. This whole meeting was planned. I wanted to push Elijah to the max so that he’d get his parents, specifically his mom, involved. It worked. And would you look at what we got here? A high school reunion”

“ God, I wanna kill you” Y/N rubbed her temples.

“ You could literally just ask to meet my mom,” Elijah scoffed.

“ I kinda need a reason for that,” Eren said blankly.

Y/N sat sprawled on the chair, pinching her nose bridge. Tentatively, Elijah squeezed her shoulder. But his head was somewhere in the stormiest clouds, dazed and lightheaded from the soap opera scene he had danced into.

“ So, Elijah is a good student and you don’t have a problem with his work?” Y/N confirmed, her eyes devoid of their usual shine.

“ He’s perfect,” Eren nodded.

“ Okay, good. Elijah, keep being a good student to Mr. Yeager, yeah? Mr. Yeager, thanks for chatting with us. Be a little more polite with my son. Elijah, let’s go” Y/N practically rapped as she hastily grasped her handbag to rush out of the door.

“ What? That’s it?” Eren sputtered, frowning as he watched Y/N try to drag Elijah by his arms out of the room with her.

“ Yes. Bye”

“ Mom, I have to transfer schools!” Elijah stomped his foot.

“ Let’s take this to the car, honey” Y/N impatiently hissed. Elijah wriggled his hands free from his mother’s tight grasp.

“ You can’t leave yet” Eren slammed the door shut and leaned against it.

“ I can do whatever I want, actually” Y/N tried to push him away. She was too weak to make him budge.

“ Come on, we’re meeting after 14 years. You have got to have something to say!”

“ Well what could I possibly have to say other than ‘fuck you’ or ‘I wish I never saw you again’ or ‘stay out of my way, I’m trying to pretend you’re dead’?”

“ That’s all understandable, but come on, let’s sit and talk things over calmly”

“ Or let’s just never talk again”

“ Y/N, I have so much to say. I really need to talk to you” Eren was getting desperate.

“ Oh my god. Mom, please just talk to him, he’s getting on my last nerve and my bladder is getting a little eager too. Spam my mom with emails all you want. Do that corny, telenovela shit on your own time I wanna get the hell out of here!”

“ So do I”.

~~~~~~~

“ Well what else were you expecting, Ren?” Armin quizzed from the other side of the phone. Eren could see the expression on his face from miles away.

Ocean blue eyes rolled upwards, looking at the ceiling annoyed and his free hand ruffling his blond hair as he bit the inside of his cheeks. Not the time for that!

“ I mean I knew she wouldn’t be fucking ecstatic but I thought she’d have a little more interest in talking to me” Eren’s voice was somewhere between a whimper and a growl. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking all day. He tried fidgeting with the strings on his sweatpants, he tried a shot of champagne, he even tried to sleep, but nothing would get the earlier events of the day out of his head.

Specifically Y/N’s face, and the surety in her voice when she said those words to him. Those words which he should have expected but stung him to no end nonetheless.

“ Eren, take a few days off from school. Call in sick” Armin suggested“ I can’t do that, Min. I can’t do that shit for life. I need to prove myself a fairer teacher to Elijah. Elijah, god, Elijah…” Eren’s voice trailed off and a proud yet guilty expression popped up on his features. Just as smart as his mother.

“ He’s a really capable young boy, huh?” Armin said

“ Understatement” Eren opened his window and stuck his head outside, willing the cool breeze and the stunning array of city lights to clear his head, wishing that the night would work some sort of miracle so that he could have the two people he held the dearest in his heart would come back to him.

“ Min, I’m hellbent on getting her back” Eren said suddenly, with a newfound stoniness in his voice.

“ I know”

“ I don’t know how I’m gonna do it, but I will. I don’t care how long I have to fucking try but I will”.

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

In the Background - Chapter 1

Summary: You’ve been dating Natasha in secret since her early days in SHIELD, and you’ve been in the background of all her missions since.

Word Count: 4562

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: I don’t think there are any (some bad hiring practise though)

A/N: It was getting pretty long for 1 chapter, so I’ve had to cut it in half. So the series will probably have twice as many chapters as I thought. More to read, I guess?

Series Masterlist

Prologue

Next Part

—————————————————

2010

You’d been at Stark Industries for a month now, and to say it was chaotic would be an understatement. The work was tough, and Tony Stark seemed to have no regard for the work he was creating simply by being himself. Every script that was written he would ignore, and shares in the business fluctuated like crazy; not to mention all the construction necessary because he’d just blow holes in walls. The pay was generous though, so you couldn’t complain.

In the recruitment department, your co-workers were running around, trying to shuffle paper to their correct places. Even for Tony, things had been abnormal, and it had driven multiple people into quitting. It was better for you though, your job was easy to get, and you had the perfect opportunity to help your girlfriend get the job she needed.

"We're going to need to hire more legal people quickly, I don't know what Stark's doing but it's only bringing more work on us"

“He’s done what?”

“We’re down to one notary, we need another one asap”

“You. Newbie” you shot your head up at the address, only to be met with a sheet of papers dumped in front of you. “Sort through the applications, give me the ones you think look promising”

“On it” you nodded, turning your full attention to them as your boss’s attention was drawn elsewhere. You read through them quickly and harshly, eliminating the best ones. It may not have been good practice, truly it was awful practice, but you knew who the job had to go to. You’d helped her write the CV, and with several degrees, global work experience, and multiple languages, she wasn’t even in the same league as the top contenders, but you had to secure it. It may still be your boss’s decision in the end, but she was far superior to the other applicant you put forward to your boss; there was no chance he could ignore it.

The very next day, you were sent to greet the candidate, bringing her to the interview. Because of course she was offered an interview the very second her application went through.

“Hi, you must be Miss Rushman” you greeted, smiling kindly but not familiarly. “I’m Y/N”

“Nice to meet you” she returned, taking your hand to shake

“Likewise. Now if you’ll just follow me, I’ll take you to your interview. It’s a bit of a trek, so they sent me to help guide you”

“Well I appreciate it, thank you” she smiled, which you returned. You led her in mostly silence through the building, taking a slightly longer route than necessary so you could point out a few key areas on your ‘tour’. If anyone picked up on it, you were, after all, still a new hire, and prone to getting lost.

“Good luck” you offered, leaving her to the law hiring manager before you went back to work for the day.

—————————————————

Naturally, she was home first, already lounging across the sofa as you pushed through the door.

“Hey baby” she greeted, looking up briefly from her book

“Hey Miss Rushman”

She smirked, shaking her head slightly as she properly watched you walk in. “Guess who got a job today”

“Was it you?”

“Of course, thanks to your help”

“I’m not sure it was necessary my help, maybe more the fact that you have three degrees and speak innumerable languages? Having a fake CV really does boost your job prospects”

“Shut up” she scoffed, grinning through it all, “I do actually speak all those languages”

“I know. You keep using them around me and I never know what you’re saying. I think you’re being rude.” You grabbed her legs, allowing you a space on the sofa to sit, before replacing them on your lap.

“I’m not being rude” she smirked, “I’ll tell you that”

“Then what are you saying? Tell me” you whined

“Never”

“I’ll just have to learn all those languages then”

“Bona fortuna cum illo”

You glared, it sounded familiar enough to piece together, as long as Natasha stayed quiet.

“You’re putting a lot of effort into this one” she mocked, watching your attempt over the top of her book.

“Shh, I’m working it out… Fortuna, she was the Roman goddess of luck!”

“She was”

“So, I’m guessing Latin?”

“Correct”

“Good luck?” you approximated

“That’s bona fortuna. Then there’s the cum illo part”

“With that. Good luck with that. Really Nat?”

She shrugged, “I thought you knew Latin”

“Sure. At the level they teach it in school. AKA not well.”

“I can teach you if you’d like, I know it better”

“Nah, it’s not like it’ll ever be useful”

“Bets on that I use it on this job”

“At Stark Industries?”

“No, my other job” she replied sarcastically, “Yes Stark Industries!”

“Ok, $10. I have not used it once so I don’t see why you’d have to”

“Ah dear Y/N, you shouldn’t make a bet with a lawyer” she smirked, sweeping her legs off the sofa and stalking towards your shared bedroom, leaving you speechless.

“You’re not even a real lawyer!” you called over your shoulder

“Yeah, I am. Check my contract!”

—————————————————

"Y/L/N, could you let Ms Carlisle know to head to the gym? Stark needs a notary quickly. He's actually going through with this whole hand-over business."

"Absolutely, I'll let her know right away," you said politely, taking your phone out and tapping Natasha's contact as soon as you were out of the room.

"Hello?" she answered

You continued in a gritted whisper, "I'm on my way to send the notary for the hand-over, Samantha Carlisle. There are only two notaries working today" It was minimal information, enough for it to make sense to Natasha but no one else.

"Thank you for the information, I believe you'll find her in the lunch hall"

"I'll head there now"

With a beep, the call was ended, and you began your leisurely walk to the lunch hall. Natasha needed time to do whatever she had planned, and you could only wonder what you would find when you got there.

Samantha and Natasha were standing by the cafe when you arrived, engaged in conversation. Shortly after, however, you watched the woman you were supposed to meet sprint off in the direction of the toilet, suddenly looking very queasy. Natasha followed after her, and you tagged along silently.

"Are you okay? I think you might need to get to the infirmary" Natasha asked first, patting the back of the woman now hunched over a toilet.

"I'd agree, but all my work..."

"It's not going to be done like this” Natasha stated firmly, “I'll do as much of yours as I can, you can go to medical and recover”

"You're a lifesaver Natalie" Carlisle breathed, allowing another onlooker to escort her to the med bay.

Once you and Natasha were alone you held out the documents. "I was supposed to give this to her, but since she's unavailable..."

"I'll take it for her" she volunteered, "to Stark?"

"He's in the gym with Miss Potts now, you might want to hurry though"

"I'm on it"

"Good luck Natalie, he's a handful"

"Walk with me?” she suggested hopefully, “you can brief me on the way"

You hummed, pretending to think it over. It’s not like you were all that busy at work anyway, “Yes, that might be a good idea. It’s this way.” With a point, you escorted your girlfriend out of the bathroom and towards Tony Stark’s area. Meanwhile, you also filled her in on everything relevant you’d found out since the last time you’d spoken. Any erratic behaviour, the details of the hand-over, and what she should expect when she entered. Since you’d been with Natasha this morning, yet hadn’t spoken to Natalie for some time, there were parts that Natasha already knew, but you simply had to reiterate for the safety of her cover. Just before you parted, you glanced over and undid another button on her shirt. She smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"You know how to get to Stark, show off a bit, he'll love you" you explained, encouraging her forward.

“I expect him too. And if he’s as impulsive as we’ve been told, I can be his new assistant by the end of the day.”

"Trust me, he is, you’ll get the job”

“Well, anyway, thanks for the walk and talk. I’ll see you later” she smiled, again nodding in a friendly manner, but not enough to express familiarity

"see you later”

You stood back and watched Natasha walk off around the bend, hips swaying in her typical fashion. It wasn’t hard to see why you fell for her, seduction was one of her many strong suits.

Now, as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t wait around for your girlfriend to finish up forever, but by the time you returned to the office, there was already chaos, caused by her.

"Y/N, there you are!" your boss pointed hurriedly, "you were meant to send Miss Carlisle down to Stark, not Rushman" he scolded.

"Miss Carlisle was incredibly ill when I found her and, as the only other notary at work, I had to get Miss Rushman to fill in" you returned defensively

"Yes, yes, well, Stark's just decided Natalie is going to be his new assistant, so we're down to just a single sick notary"

"I'll reopen applications, send over some of the previous applicants for the lawyers to look through"

"That’s what we need. Be quick about it though, I reckon we'll need another one soon”

You nodded then hurried off to your desk, internally celebrating that Natasha and Fury’s plan was paying off, even if it created more work for you. She was also going to be a lot busier, the work of taking care of the billionaire was well known to be stressful, and that was even without having to spy on him and hide a secret identity. Reporting back to Fury seemed a step too far, so you arranged to take over in that aspect, reciting whatever information Natasha gave you once she got home. Until then though, you had to maintain your job, and you could make things right. You put forward the actual best candidates for the notary role, no longer needing to influence the application in Natasha’s favour.

—————————————————

Just like at SHIELD, you were left with the regular job while Natasha did the higher skill spy task. It didn’t bother you though, there was no jealously, just pride in how well Natasha was doing. Despite that, you did wonder whether her long hours and exciting tales might affect your relationship, or make you seem boring to her in comparison, but her actions perfectly reassured you of the opposite.

As soon as she arrived home, Natasha flopped onto the sofa with you, pulling you in to softly kiss and cuddle, then sat, practically intertwined with you, to talk about your days. You always knew your tales were nothing in comparison to whatever Stark may have done that day, but Natasha still watched you with rapt attention, smiling up at you as you spoke. It was comforting. You didn’t understand what interested her, but it eradicated any doubt you had about not being enough for her; it made you feel loved.

Of course, that routine was shortly interrupted. Almost as soon as she was hired, Natasha was sent to accompany Tony to the Monaco Grand Prix, going to watch the Stark Industries car perform. Even her journey there was a secret to the new CEO and, given your relationship was a secret too, there was no chance you could join her, so having to call whenever possible would have to suffice.

You continued work while she was gone, finding out what you could about Stark Industries. It wasn’t much honestly, a personal assistant got you information far quicker than some junior recruitment agent. The news was on in the office, reporting on the racing, yet you paid it no mind, just getting on with the work you’d been set to pass the time. But when the breaking news banner came up, your attention was pulled back, just like everybody else’s. 

“Oh my God what is he doing?” someone muttered, the sight of Tony Stark gearing up to drive the car himself left everyone gobsmacked, but not all that surprised. The next meeting with Fury was going to be interesting, you thought, given that Natasha was supposed to be monitoring Stark’s impulsive behaviour. For now, though, the office was going crazy once again. As a junior member, all you could do was stop and gape at the TV, along with half of your co-workers. The senior members, however, were stressed once again, having to deal with the billionaire’s erratic antics once more. Phones were constantly ringing and orders were barked as the higher-ups tried to get everything under control. There were calls to the legal department to ensure Stark was covered to do this, planning in case something went wrong, some people just quit on the spot, this action was their final straw. That was an issue you’d have to deal with later.

Your eyes were locked on the screen, scanning for any trace of Natasha in the footage. She didn’t turn up, you just had to assume she was working on handling it. That assumption became more of a worry when a worker stepped onto the track, increasing even more as he whipped through the first car, sending it flying off.

“She can protect herself” you whispered to yourself, over and over again, eyes locked on the footage as the man went head to head with Stark. She wasn’t in the car either. You recognised Happy and Pepper, driving into harm’s way to get Stark the Iron Man suit, but she wasn’t with them. ‘Good’ you thought, perhaps selfishly, but you didn’t want her in the firing line like that. After some minutes of watching them fight, you couldn’t bear the tension, potentially breaking protocol and calling her directly.

She picked up instantly. “I’m safe Y/N”

“Good… good” you breathed, suddenly realising how worked up you’d been. “You’re not by the track?”

“I had… other matters to attend to, I’ll tell you when I can. But, you do know I can defend myself right?” you heard the humour in her voice at the last statement, it made you smile instinctively,

“Yeah, yeah I know, but this is… it’s bigger than most things you face. It looks like a dangerous weapon. But I know you could handle it, I just had to check you know?”

“And I appreciate it, I’ll head home after this and see you then, alright? Love you”

“Love you too”

The call calmed you down, knowing Natasha would be fine, and it let you get on with the work you should have been doing already.

—————————————————

Soon after you arrived home a knock sounded on the front door. You knew Natasha was still on her way, and she could let herself in, so you cautiously checked the peephole, only to see a disgruntled Fury on the other side. It goes without saying that you opened the door immediately afterwards, allowing him into your home.

“Yeah yeah I know I’m not your girlfriend, try not to look too disappointed” your superior grumbled and you hurriedly attempted to school your features. “You didn’t actually look disappointed, the covering it up just gave it away though.”

You sighed, it was hard to work out where you stood with Fury, and usually, Natasha acted as a buffer between the two of you. “Is there a reason you dropped by? Because Natasha isn’t here”

“I’m well aware of that fact, but she should be here in 15 minutes and I have urgent business to discuss with the both of you.”

It didn’t particularly make sense why he would arrive before Natasha, but you’d learnt not to question his judgement. “So, you want tea or coffee or something?”

“No, I’m good”

He was sat on the sofa already, while you stood awkwardly to the side. “I’ll go make myself one” you announced, rushing off to the kitchen and pulling your phone out.

*Natasha if you do not get back right now*

N: *Why? What’s happened*

*Fury is sitting in our living room waiting for you to get back*

N: *Again?*

*Yes. And you know I don’t know how to talk to him*

N: *Fine, I’ve asked the driver to speed up, be back in 5*

“Thank God” you muttered to yourself, taking your time to make two cups of tea so they were ready just as Natasha walked through the door. She greeted her boss, while you handed over her cup of tea, pretending you hadn’t just been avoiding Fury the whole time. 

“Great, I’m glad Y/N convinced you to get back faster,” the man said in lieu of a greeting,

“What?”

“Are you telling me you didn’t text Natasha to speed up when I promised 15 minutes of just us?”

Your eyes flicked to meet Natasha’s, she had pursed her lips to avoid laughing but one look at your bemused expression broke her. “You got played, babe”

“Yeah, whatever” you scowled, patting the seat next to you for Natasha to sit down, before finally asking Fury what he was there to discuss.

“Monaco showed that Stark is becoming a danger not only to himself but to everyone around him,” he began, “Natasha, since you were there, how was he allowed to take over as a racer?”

“I don’t know sir, he didn’t tell anyone he was doing it, it seemed very impromptu… however, it gave me a good opportunity to access his records. The palladium is poisoning him just as we thought.”

“So he’s dying and living his life to the fullest?” you summarised, getting a nod from your girlfriend.

“We can reverse the poisoning, at least somewhat to give Tony time to rethink the importance of his life, but we have to come out of hiding to do it, which is why I’m here.” Receiving nods from both of you, Fury continued, “You’ll both have to stay undercover for a bit longer for the lab team to synthesise an antidote, after that, we will reveal Natasha’s identity, but not yours Y/N. Hopefully, a jolt from SHIELD should get him back into action.”

“Understood”

“I’ll be back with any updates” Fury finished, stepping up and out of the house.

“Always fun to have him around” you murmured, drawing a giggle from Natasha as she stepped to embrace you

“He’s not that bad, just a little grumpy”

“He showed up 15 minutes early and refused to talk until you were here! Zero small talking skills. I much prefer having you around”

“Well good thing we live together isn’t it?”

“Yes it is” you beamed, pulling your girlfriend closer for a kiss, “though it sounds like you won’t be around much for a while”

“Unfortunately. Pepper and I are going to have to deal with a lot of press after that Whiplash incident. Plus there’s that party in a few days, which is really not painting him in a good light,” she sighed, “you’re going to that, right?”

“Well, I’m invited, so if you want me there…”

“Definitely”

“Then I’ll be there. As for the rest of it, they’re problems for tomorrow. We can just cuddle and watch movies and you can forget about it until then.”

“Sounds perfect.”

—————————————————

Natasha couldn’t even return home for the following few days, as predicted, too busy dealing with the mess Stark had been making, plus attending to the man, plus planning his birthday party. Natasha had wanted you there, so you were going. Even though you were sure something would come up it would still allow you to see her for a bit.

A message came through from Natasha while you were getting ready, addressed to both you and Fury:

N: *His Palladium concentration is at 89% We have to act soon.*

F: *Make sure he doesn’t die at the party, we’ll confront him tomorrow. Enjoy tonight, both of you*

You smirked when the next few messages came through directly from Natasha to you,

N: *See, he told you to enjoy, I knew he liked you*

*I’m not calling that confirmation. How’s Tony?*

N: *I may have made it worse*

*That’s unlike you*

N: *He asked what I would do if it were my last party and I could only think of you, so I answered honestly*

*And then what?*

N: *Get to the party yourself and see*

You dressed up and headed down, spotting what Natasha was talking about as soon as you entered. Stark was clearly drunk out of his mind, dancing around and smashing bottles in his Iron Man suit. It was one of the many times you were thankful that you didn’t have to deal personally with him. A few of your colleagues were looking uncomfortable at the back of the room, immediately waving you over once they spotted you. Most of your night was spent with them, joking between yourselves about seeing your boss in such a state, and what a strain it would be on your department; clearly some builders needed to be hired.

There were a few times where you managed to catch Natasha’s eye, and you saw her instantly relax and smile each time, before some urgent issue would pull her away again.

It sounded like it was all over when Pepper stepped up, taking the mic from Tony and shutting the party down, but of course, the man was having none of it and only got worse. You groaned and began scanning the crowd for Natasha; it was going to be a late night for the both of you. She was already watching you when you spotted her, with a subtle tilt of her head she indicated for you to follow her into an empty room.

“He’s worse than we thought” she sighed frustratedly as soon as the both of you were alone, “There have already been a few injuries from broken glass, and it could get far worse very quickly. He just doesn’t seem to care about anything!”

You approached, rubbing her shoulders to calm her down, “I’ll try and convince some people to leave, practically all the Stark employees are ready to go already, okay? Fewer people, lower risk of injury” she nodded and you continued, “clearly he isn’t up for shutting the party down, but… Fury will sort him out tomorrow, we just have to get him through to that. And you’re not alone for this, I’m here too, don’t forget.”

“I know, I know. Okay.” She nodded, seemingly trying to reassure herself. Stark had clearly been a handful in the past few days if even Natasha was doubting her ability, you were just glad you could be here to provide some support, however marginal it was. “Alright, we can do this”

“Yes, we can. I’ll start crowd control, you… I don’t know, do some spy stuff”

She smirked, already heading out, “do some spy stuff” she mocked, “says the spy”. Before you could retaliate with a comment another crash sounded from outside. Natasha poked her head out of the doorway, then turned back to you, “your part should be easier, but you might want to hurry”

“Helpful info there” you muttered, to yourself because she had run off, before returning to the main area. Once there you worked out what she meant, seeing not just one but two Iron men. You recognised Colonel Rhodes in one of them. “I’m only gonna say this once” he threatened. “Get out”. Partygoers screamed as the crowd rushed for the doors. Easy job indeed.

You helped ensure that everyone could get out, pulling up anyone who fell under in the stampede and opening any doors to the outside that you could see, before running back and collecting stragglers. It may have been an exposing move from you, but it was clear a fight could break out at any second, and you didn’t want civilians in the battle zone. You pushed the final people outside and waited with the others. The door was still open and the wall was glass, so when a “Natalie” was heard, your attention immediately focused back inside.

“Miss Potts” your girlfriend replied, her voice back in her Natalie Rushman persona,

“Oh don’t you “Miss Potts” me! I’m onto you”. That wasn’t great, but if anyone could bluff their way out it was Natasha. “You know what, ever since you came here-”

The two armoured suits smashed through the ceiling, reigniting the screams and breaking up the confrontation. You braced yourself at the sudden noise and saw Natasha jump into a fighting pose too, relaxing it as soon as her senses kicked in. You quickly scanned the crowd, checking that their eyes had all been on Stark and Rhodes. Thankfully, they had, and nobody else saw Natasha break her cover.

Waving your hands, you directed people further away from the glass and back towards their cars as Happy pushed through the crowds, pulling Pepper out of harm’s way, leaving Natasha alone in the building. It was the perfect opportunity to search for more information, and you knew she would take it, but instead, her eyes were scanning the crowd, not finding yours.

*I’m fine, still convincing everyone to head home. Go do your job* you texted, keeping an eye on her until she looked down at her phone. She smiled slightly then turned, running off deeper into the mansion, meanwhile you roped your co-workers into guiding people out of the car park, making sure as many people got away from potential harm as possible.

—————————————————

A flick to your forehead woke you up, and you jolted upright to see a smirking Nat standing over you. “3:30AM and you can’t even stay awake” she teased, “a 22-year-old bested by their elder”.

You swatted her hand away with a groan, “you’re like, 3 years older, shut up”

“C’mon, let’s go to bed, I only have a few more hours until Fury and I track down Stark. I don’t think that man sleeps.”

“Neither do you so it works out” you mumbled, she may go to bed with you most nights, but it always looked like she’d been up for hours by the time you woke up the next day.

“Just because I don’t sleep in as if I were a teenager”, she pulled you up, letting you lean on her as she escorted you to your bedroom,

“No, no, I forgot, you wake up like a senior citizen, you’re that old”

“Ok baby”

You frowned, sleepily narrowing your eyes at her, “was that a pet name or-?”

“No, I’m calling you a baby”

“That’s mean”

“Oh and senior citizen isn’t?”

“I said it with love”

“I said it with enough love that you thought I was being affectionate” she teased again, pulling the cover up to lay next to you. “Night Y/N”

“Night night Nat. I do love you”

“And I love you too”

“Oh my god. Paedophile” you smirked, instantly putting your hands over your head to deflect the pillow attack that followed.

“You’re lucky I have to get up early tomorrow or you’d be dead”

Next Part

[arrowflier]

I’m wondering, would any of Ian’s siblings snoop around his new apartment with Mickey?

If this wasn't a prompt...sorry it is now.

Curiosity Killed the...Carl? (also on AO3)

Carl wasn’t supposed to just be walking into Ian and Mickey’s apartment.

He knew this, because when he asked for a key a few weeks before, they said, “Carl, we don’t want you to just be walking into our apartment.”

But if they didn’t want him to slip into their apartment, after using Liam’s emergency key to open the door just a crack, they should have been a little more specific. Shouldn’t have expected him to read between the lines.

Besides, he needed something. Several somethings, actually, that had apparently ended up in Ian’s things before he moved. Things like Ian’s army knife, and Ian’s sleeping bag, and Ian’s coat. Things that he really should have asked Carl before taking.

So he slid inside on socked feet, his boots hanging from his hand by the laces, and let the door click shut behind him. He waited, just for a second, even though he knew they weren’t there.

Then he dropped his shoes on the floor, turned on all the lights, and went searching for what he wanted.

He hit the kitchen first. Checked the table, pushing through random pieces of mail addressed to Mickey, to Ian, to Mr. and Mr. Gallagher. The last one was altered, Milkovich inserted right above in Mickey’s handwriting, with a little heart scratched in red between the names.

Nothing he was looking for. Not even a gift card or a scratch off he could nab, just boring bills and furniture catalogs and a reminder that Mickey needed to go to the dentist.

He moved into the living room, next. Checked under the sofa for the missing knife, but found only a dead battery and some really stale popcorn that he spit right back out. A bunch of used tissues, too, that he left right where they were. And between the sofa cushions, just a few nickels, and weirdly worn-out tie he had never seen either of them wear, and a bottle of…

He threw the bottle back where it came from. Lube. Ugh.

Carl sat back on his heels, and sighed. He’d thought finding what he needed would be a little bit easier. But he wasn’t a quitter—anymore, at least—so he stood and headed off down the hall.

He made the probably-wise decision to bypass the bathroom, and headed right into the bedroom. Opened the closet—just shirts, and jeans, and some weird strappy leather thing he didn’t look too close at. Opened the drawers—just underwear and socks, and more underwear, and more underwear, and more…

Yeah, okay, they had a lot of underwear. Kinda weird since he was pretty sure they shared that stuff.

He was just getting down on his knees to peek under the bed, sure of finding something, when he heard the front door close.

The front door that he was pretty sure he had closed already.

“Yo, you leave the lights on?” Mickey asked from the entry, and Carl froze. “Thought I told you to stop wastin’ money when we ain’t home.”

“Oh please,” Ian said back, footsteps moving into the apartment proper. “Like you don’t keep it way too warm in here so you can lose the layers as soon as we get inside.”

“Don’t hear you complainin’,” Mickey pointed out, and then two sets of footsteps were moving down the hall.

Carl stared at the open bedroom door. Then at the closet, still ajar, too shallow to hide him. The window, locked shut, too high to crawl out of.

The footsteps kept coming. Carl panicked. And slung himself under the bed just as Ian and Mickey entered the room.

“Man, we left shit a mess this morning,” Mickey mused as he came in, stopping just shy of the bed to look around. Carl pushed himself further toward the middle, hand slipping on something rubbery and familiarly shaped that he refused to look at.

“Well, we were running late,” Ian admitted, his shoes moving toward the open closet door. He shut it with a click, bent down to pick something up off the floor. “You know, since someone wouldn’t let me get out of bed.”

His voice was sly, and smug. Carl could see the edge of his smirk until he straightened, and kind of wanted to puke. Even more so when Ian haphazardly threw whatever he had grabbed under the bed without looking, and a pair of dirty boxers almost hit him in face.

“Come off it,” Mickey returned, laughing just a little. Carl freed himself from his brother’s nasty underwear and turned his head to the side just in time to see Mickey’s rugged boots stop between Ian’s clean sneakers, way too close to be standing a normal distance apart.

“You’re the one wouldn’t stop touchin’ me,” Mickey accused, low and sultry. “And would you look at that…you’re touchin’ me now, too.”

A chuckle. The sound of lips meeting, and parting. Carl squinted his eyes shut, tried to block it out—

Then his brother’s belt hit the floor next to his head.

“Nope!” he yelped, scrambling out from under the bed, hand slipping on who-the-fuck-knows what. “Keep your clothes on, you have fucking company!”

“What the—” Ian started, close by the sound of his voice, though Carl refused to open his eyes.

“The fuck are you doin’ here, shithead?” Mickey finished for him, shoving Carl back a step with a hand on his chest.

Carl put his hands up, but kept his eyes closed, just in case.

“I borrowed—”

Ian coughed.

“I stole Liam’s key,” Carl tried again, wincing preemptively. “Just needed to grab a few things, it’s not a big deal!”

Silence. Carl braced for impact, sure Mickey was about to slug him. Then…

Laughter.

“Look at his face!” Mickey chortled. “He thinks I’m gonna kill him with my dick out!”

“Can’t believe he even thinks you have your dick out,” Ian gasped between bursts of laughter, and wait.

What?

Carl opened his eyes, just a slit. Ian and Mickey were standing fully clothed in front of him, a spare belt lying on the floor that he was pretty sure he’d seen in the closet a minute earlier, faces red with humor.

Carl put his arms down. Opened his eyes the rest of the way.

“How’d you know I was here?” he asked, confused, and Mickey shook his head.

“You left your shoes in the entry, you stupid fucker,” he said.

Carl looked down. Wriggled his toes in his threadbare socks.

“Oh yeah,” he said slowly, and set them off again.

“So where’s my stuff?” he asked a second later, figuring he might as well try.

“Yeah, no,” Mickey snorted. “Now get the fuck out before you actually see somethin’ that’ll scar you for life.”

He reached for Ian’s actual belt. Ian shrugged, hands out, eyes wide.

And Carl, eyes shit again, bolted.

“And give Liam back his key!” Ian called out after him before the bedroom door slammed clothes.

Carl slammed the front door, too.

Then reached blindly back through it to grab his damn shoes. The rest of it, Ian could keep.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

I finally got around to reading 338. And though the chapter is mostly building towards whatever is going to happen next, I found it really enjoyable to read. 

The parallels that Asta can see between Hino and Clover are a wonderful way to introduce Asta to arguments such as “we’re not so different”, which I suspect could help with his relationship with Ichika (I mean “relationship” in the broaded meaning of the word). 

But also having someone without mana as the shogun is sure to give Asta a boost in spirit and motivation, because Ryu is a living proof of it being within his reach. 

Also, I’m going to assume that “Ryuya” is Ryu’s last name, because Ichika addresses him as “Lord Ryuya”, which would be, in the context more fitting to be “Lord [Last Name]” than the very familiarly intended “Captain Yami” (I say familiarly intended, because it’s been assumed that “Yami” was the first name, rather than last name). And similarly, Ichika is being addresses as “Lady Yami”. 

I’m also loving the fact that they’re using a word such as “yōjutsu” for magic in Hino, because it gives... a kind of a sense of realism, because all terms shouldn’t be universal. 

My biggest issue, honestly, is Asta being able to understand Hinoian. 

I understand that it’s far easier from a narrative point of view to just take this approach, but unless Tabs makes a claim such as “we put a spell on you as you were being transported, so that you can understand us”, him being able to understand Ryu and Ichika, doesn’t fly with me. And even if Asta was being put under a spell like that, they could still use different words (such as “yōjutsu”) for magic, because words don’t always translate, even if you could come up with a word to replace it with. There can be a lot of nuances lost in a translation. 

I do love Ichika though. She’s a little firecracker!

[lubdubsworld]

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

ABO Dynamics.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts. 

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[  Author’s Note :  物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1

 Chapter 2

I wrapped the white wool shawl tighter around my shoulders. The night was still chilly and the and smelt faintly of impending rain. Why they would plan a party outside while it rained, was beyond me.

After my little skirmish with Jungkook, I had found Namjoon quickly only to be told that we couldn’t leave for another hour at least because there was a  certain investor who wanted to meet Namjoon . The guy was running late and he had to wait for him. So here I stood, shivering lightly, all while keeping an eye on my husband as he got progressively drunk.

Namjoon’s words made me sigh a little.

“You can’t decide what someone else’s normal is, Namjoon. Especially when it comes to grief.  But the drinking is an issue. And you’re right about the therapist. I know she’s doing her best but I’m not sure if she has the right answers for him. Or even the right tools to help him.”

“I’ve been searching up on therapists who specialize with alphas. There’s one in Itaewon , his name is Kim Taehyung. I really think he could help. He’s an alpha himself.”

“That sounds good. Betas may not fully understand alpha mating bonds or what it’s like when one of them dies. Taehyung may have a better understanding of what Jungkook’s going through.” I nodded, a little hopeful. 

Therapy with the beta lady the hospital had recommended wasn’t really helping Jungkook the way it ought to.

Namjoon hesitated.

“Would you be willing to go with him? Taehyung insists a family member stay in the waiting room just in case...” he asked gently. I turned back to look at my husband, leaning on the mahogany countertop of the bar, fingers curled around a glass of whiskey.

“And I’m the one you want to consider for that? That’s ridiculous. Jungkook hates me.” Did I really have remind him of this salient fact? 

“I’ve offered to, before.  He doesn’t want me there." I sighed as Jungkook threw the drink back with ease.

“That was three months ago though. Things have changed now right?” Namjoon prodded.

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Not between us they haven’t. He’s spending more time with Mina and he isn’t throwing stuff around but he still loathes me.”

“He loathes what you represent: his own shortcomings and failures. Your father wasn’t kind in his approach and you are a reminder of all the things he can’t control.”

How fucking unfair,  I thought playing with the tiny  ring on my finger ( or should i say handcuff really? ), my wedding ring , the platinum band engraved with my husband’s name, a drop of his blood embossed into the metal. 

An archaic tradition, that carried no meaning in modern Seoul but the idea of it was still alive and well. The idea that what we had was a blood bond, imbued in our veins now.  An alpha’s connection with a beta or an alpha mate was usually quite fragile. But an alpha and omega mate bond. That was supposed to be powerful. 

Unless the alpha was still phantom bonded to a dead wife , that is. It was odd thing. Mate bonds had to be mutual to work. So there was no bond between Jungkook and I . We didn’t have any feelings for each other of course. But wearing someone’s blood on yourself changed that . it forced a bond that wasn’t there. It was ancient magic and it worked on my kind. Not on his. 

How fucking unfair because it wasn’t like I could control any of this either? 

I grimaced. I had thought of taking the ring off 

“Ouch.” I said with a smile. Namjoon waved off my self pity with an eye roll. 

“You know what I mean. Even for an Alpha, Jungkook has always held on to his pride. Losing his wife and his company all in the same week probably left him feeling incredibly helpless and your father browbeat him into this whole thing. Of course he isn’t going to be eager to share heart to heart talks with you. ”

I held my hand up. 

“I know all that Namjoon. I was there, remember? And I’m not blaming him for any of that. Trauma makes you do shitty things and I understand that . I also understand that if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t behave the way he does now. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t change his mind for him. If he doesn’t want to get help, I’m kind of helpless myself, you know?”

Namjoon reached out and squeezed my hand.  

“I’m just asking you this because , he does listen to you at times. I’ve noticed it. He doesn’t outwardly agree with you but he takes your opinions into consideration. And, Heejin you live with him and you’re the one who managed to convince him to start scenting Mina. ”

And God, how exhausting that had been. I had kept at it because Mina was so young and she needed her father’s scent to grow. And while i could be persistent when necessary,  I couldn’t work miracles. 

“Namjoon oppa, “ I said softly, trying to explain myself without sounding like a horrible human, “  I don’t hate Jungkook. Far from it. I want him to get the help he needs and I’m here for him. If you can convince him to go see Taehyung and he’s okay with me coming along, I won’t say no. Mina needs him and there’s nothing I would like more than for him to get better. ” i smiled a little, “ But he’s still going to have to be the one to make that choice. i can’t make it for him.” 

Namjoon nodded.

“ Fair enough. Well,  I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll set something up. Thank you for not refusing Heejinah. I know it can’t be easy for you either. 

I opened my mouth to respond but out of the corner of my eyes I caught a glimpse of someone, staring intently right at me.

 I turned sharply, eyes locking with those of Kim Yugyeom and I stiffened, stepping closer to Namjoon on instinct.  Yugyeom smirked, winking at me. 

I shuddered in disgust. 

Creep.

Namjoon followed my line of vision and swore.

“This motherfucker.” He made to move towards him. and I grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his forearm. The last thing i wanted to witness was an alpha alpha showdown in the middle of a party with me in the middle. 

“Please, no. Don’t make a scene. It’s what he wants.”

“Jungkook has the shittiest friends on the planet.” Namjoon shook his head and I couldn’t agree more. 

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

Mina’s appointment with the doctor went about as expected. She was right on time with her milestones and I sat in the waiting office for a mere twenty minutes before being called in. The doctor, an alpha named Min Yoongi gave me a small smile of recognition before flipping through the pages of her file.

“ Jungkook didn’t come along?” He asked casually, grabbing a pen and making a note of her weight and length before plotting it on the small graph. She was a little on the smaller side but she was growing well. 

“He’s busy...” i said with a shrug, “ So I still keep giving her the polyvisol supplements?” 

Yoongi nodded, “ The nurse will fill in the prescription for you. Are you sure he’s busy? He called me last night and told me he wanted to come see me?” 

I blinked. 

“He did ? “ I couldn’t quite process this. 

“He wanted to talk about how she’s doing and I told him he could come in for her appointment today.”

I imagined a world where Jungkook actually spoke to me, instead of forcing  me to navigate stormy waters on rotten plywood. Nine more months, i told myself firmly, already digging for my phone. Nine more months and I would be out of this living hell I’d gotten trapped in. 

“Can I try calling him? He’s probably forgotten. I think he might regret missing out.” I begged and Yoongi gave me a small smile, waving me off. 

“Of course you can Heejin-ah and tell him that if he wants I can drop by at the office and talk to him as well.” 

I nodded quickly , moving out to the waiting area while the nurses held Mina, soothing her before getting her ready for her shots. I tried calling him and not surprisingly he didn’t pick up. I called his office next and Jungkook’s secretary picked up the phone .

The woman hated me. 

“He’s busy.” She said curtly.” He’s specifically asked me not to bother him with stuff that isn’t important.” 

Her whiny voice grated on my ears and i bit my lips to keep the irritation in. 

“Since when does his daughter make that list, Ms Lee?” I said calmly and she hesitated. 

“He’s in a meeting right now and-”

“I’m in the hospital with his daughter. I hope you’re willing to take the heat when he finds out that you wouldn’t let me get through to him. “ I said casually. 

It was a twisted version of the truth for sure. Meant to imply that Mina was hurt in some way. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it much. I had enough on my plate without dealing with twenty year old secretaries who fancied themselves in love with their hot boss. 

 “I... just a moment, Mrs. Jeon.” 

I loathed the name. It wasn’t mine. It was hers and I felt like a thief every time someone addressed me that way.

After two minutes, Jungkook’s  familiarly low and perpetually exhausted voice came out ,

“Hello? Heejin?” He sounded listless and his voice just a little slurred and i groaned. 

“Please tell me you aren’t drunk.” I whispered. 

“I’m not. “ He said shortly. “ What’s wrong? What happened? Is Mina alright? ”

“Did you tell Yoongi that you were going to meet him today?” 

He was quiet for a second. 

“i’ll talk to him.”

He hung up and I stared at the phone. I realized that I shouldn’t have called him in the first place. Should have asked Yoongi to call him himself. What was wrong with me? Even a few syllables exchanged with Jungkook felt like staring into an abyss . 

I moved back to the clinic , just as Mina plaintive wail filled the room. The shots were done. It took us another thirty five minutes to finish filling her prescriptions and for Yoongi to finish examining her. She was already dozing off and I wasn’t supposed to feed her for another thirty minutes so perhaps the nap would do her good.  I had just finished settling her into her Bjorn carrier  when Jungkook’s voice came from the entryway. 

“Is this the way to Dr. Min’s office?” 

I glanced back to watch him . He looked ridiculously handsome in a three piece suit, jacket thrown over his arm and hair lightly damp from the misty drizzle outside. I saw the secretary’s mouth actually drop open and stay agape as she tried to process his questions. i could see the way his beauty had rendered her entirely witless and as someone who had experienced it first hand , i could sympathize, 

But Jungkook was beginning to look annoyed from the lack of response and i decided to give the poor girl a break. 

“He’s waiting for you.” I called out and Jungkook startled. He glanced up at me and for some reason he looked surprised. He always looked surprised when he saw me. As if i was just some monster out of his worst nightmares turning up in odd places . As if he couldn’t quite believe that i did exist in his life now. Unwelcome but impossible to avoid. 

“You’re here.” He said blankly. 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. 

“Yes, i am. I’ve been here for three months now. “ i said shortly, before i could stop myself, “ Mina’s fine.  She just had her shots. I’m going to drive home and put her down for a nap. Do you want me to come with you ?” I pointed at the clinic. 

He hesitated before shaking his head. 

It was all according to script then. Jungkook would never include me in a single thing. Even if i was smack damn in the middle of the room with nowhere else to go. 

“Alright. i’ll see you after work.” 

“We’ll have guests for dinner today. ” He said suddenly. 

I stared at him, confused.

“For dinner??”

“ Sooah’s parents.” 

Oh, God. 

Wary of the extra nurses suddenly filling the room, the little whispers and the curious glances, i kept my smile even. 

“Of course. ” I bowed a little before turning on my heel and walking away. 

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

Sooah’s parents were, for lack of a better word, selfish . 

They had lost a daughter, so of course i could understand with their need to keep their daughter’s memory alive. But the way they chose to do it was unhealthy and borderline vindictive. 

" She’s growing well.” Mrs. Kim had the same statuesque figure as her model daughter and she held her grandchild with a slightly unsure grip and Mina felt the uncertainty in her grip, breaking out into cries at once. I stayed still, my throat dry from disuse. I hadn’t said a word since they came in. 

We were seated at the table, dinner was done. 

Jungkook sat next to me, staring straight ahead while his father in law tried to engage him in conversation. 

With Jungkook, the grief came in waves. Some days, the waves were small and gentle, like the ones that lapped at your feet on the shore of a tranquil lake. on those days e went about his day as usual, spoke to his friends and signed deals.  And somedays they were big, behemoths carrying guilt and accusation, crashing over his head with a vengeance. 

On those days , he looked like he’d been run over by a two ton truck. 

Today was just one of those days and i could sense it.

The man was going on an on about some charity that Sooah had been involved in as a young girl... Could Jungkook make a contribution in her name?. Could Jungkook pay for a concert of her favorite singer in her hometown..?  Could Jungkook possibly consider contributing to opening a foundation in her name? 

I could feel the urge to scream, grow by the minute.

 Each syllable that spilled out of her father’s mouth was aggravating, the sentences began and ended with her name, over and over over again and It felt terribly like she was standing right next to me, ice cold and dead but real and relentless at the same time. He spoke of her like she was still alive and i couldn’t fathom how that was healthy. How that was going to help Jungkook move on.

 If anything it made it harder for him to move on. 

And in a moment of chilling clarity, i realized  that this is what they wanted. 

They didn’t want Jungkook to move on from her. They wanted him to be consumed by her. In the wake of that realization , i felt anger surge. 

There was just enough hurt and heartbreak and pain and grief in this room without these idiots adding to it. 

“Jungkook is tired tonight, uncle.. Perhaps we can discuss this later.” I said finally, unable to bear it any more.

The man gave me a glare.

“I wasn’t talking to you girl.” He said sharply. I frowned. 

“We’re trying to help Jungkook. “ The woman said sharply. “ Unlike you and your father we do not prey on the weak. “ 

Jungkook shifted at the phrase and I glared at her.

“He isn’t weak. “ I snapped, resisting the urge to add on a you bitch , “He’s grieving . And what he needs is space to process his grief. Not you people trying to shove your daughter into his throat with every sentence. “

“Don’t you dare talk about our daughter!” Mrs. Kim snarled and i felt a headache come on.

“I thought that was why you were here? To talk about her? Or should I say use her as an excuse to get money out of him??  What you’re doing is unfair and awful!! . Jungkook isn’t ready to talk about this and one look at his face should tell you that, if you even bothered looking at anything except his wallet.” I shouted. 

“Heejin, that’s enough.” Jungkook said hoarsely and i bit my lips. 

Of course he wasn’t going to support me even if we were on the same side. Defending him, protecting him was exhausting and it was such a thankless job. i wanted it to end. 

“I think we should call this a night. please, just leave” I said sharply, standing up and reaching for Mina. She glared at me but handed the baby over. 

“You don’t get to make that decision. My son in law is who I’m here to see. You’re just the parasite that’s attached herself to him. You sit there in my daughter’s place and you dare disrespect me this way. ” The woman snapped.

“Its still my house. “ I gritted out. “ I’m married to Jungkook whether you like it or not and so i have the right to ask you to get out of my house.” 

“Heejin, stop.” Jungkook’s voice only made me angrier. He sounded drained and empty and still these leeches wanted to suck him dry. And he was too  blind to see it. 

“I’m done with this” I stood up moving to the small pack and play that sat in the corner of the living room. i placed Mina in and watcher her eyes flutter shut gently. 

i turned back to stare at Mrs. Kim.

“i want the pair of you to leave. Get out before I call security.” 

She gaped at me. 

“you had a wedding... that doesn’t make it a fucking marriage. “ she sneered. “ Its probably not even legal until you consummate it. So go ahead, call the cops right now. You think i wouldn’t take you to court. ??!! ” 

She was spouting absolute nonsense, probably driven by her own grief  but i wasn’t feeling particularly charitable tonight. 

“Why don’t you ask your son in law that? Ask him if the marriage was consummated or not...” I smirked. 

She faltered, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“No. You’re lying ...he wouldn’t.” She turned to Jungkook who looked at me with fury in his eyes. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He said sharply and I scoffed.

“With me? What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with these idiots that they think they can come here and ask you to sign a fucking cheque when you’re still out here grieving for their daughter?!”

“You don’t know shit about them or her...” 

“I don’t have to. I don’t have to and i don’t care to either. All I know is that i married you and you’re my husband and whether you meant those vows or not, i did. I swore in front of my God and my family and I’m going to keep those promises. I’m going to protect you because I love your daughter . I’m going to protect you because you need to fucking live to be able to care for her. “ 

i turned to stare at his in-laws. They were staring at me, some of the fire dying out and in the span of a few minutes they somehow looked older . 

“You don’t deserve to be here.” Mr. Kim said finally, voice cracking and i exhaled. 

“And yet, here I am. And I’m not leaving. you are.” I said calmly. 

They stared at me for one more second before standing up and moving out of the dining space and into the hallways leading out. 

“We’ll call you later Jungkook-ah...” The man said before walking out of the door and slamming it shut behind him. 

The silence between us grew heavier as the seconds ticked. 

“We can’t decide how people grieve.” Jungkook said softly. 

I stared at him in disbelief. 

“You’re telling  me  that , Jungkook? Or did you forget all the times I indulged you when the only way you could grieve was apparently  by forcing yourself on me.” i snapped. 

His eyes widened , just a fraction before going blank again. 

He took a deep breath and went on. 

“They lost their daughter and they’re hurting. We can’t tell them they aren’t allowed to honor her memory...They’re clearly in pain...”

“Not more than you!” i snapped. “ You’re the one in pain here Jungkook. Your pain is so much more than theirs ..... Or may be it isn’t i don’t know.. But i do know that I can’t sit here and watch them bleed all over you when you’re cut just as deep as them.” 

“You don’t know shit about e!” He roared. “ Don’t you fucking dare talk about my grief like you can understand it...like you actually know what its like to lose the woman who had your fucking heart, because if you did you wouldn’t have agreed to this fucking marriage...you wouldn’t be here in this room with me, intruding on my grief and my pain... “

The sound of his voice made my entire body freeze in fear. I stayed perfectly still, jumping when he crossed the distance between us and grabbed my face, fingers curling around my jaw. 

“ You want to know how i wanted to grieve? I wanted to grieve in solitude!!! I wanted to grieve without some fucking stranger hovering over my shoulder like a fucking plague!”

I exhaled shakily, fingers trembling as i reached up to hold his wrist, my entire jaw throbbing with how hard his grip was. 

“It’s the price you pay for getting your company back. Jeon Jungkook. “ I choked out.” Or did you forget that marrying me is the reason you aren’t homeless on the streets “

He laughed a little yanking me closer and wrapping an arm around my waist.

“You’ve learned to talk back these days...” He muttered , “ I think I preferred the girl who hid in the nursery for the first three weeks of our wedding.” 

“I wasn’t hiding . I was avoiding you. Because your misery was contagious and i didn’t want any of it on me.” I snapped and his hold on my waist tightened. 

“Are you trying to make me angry? ” He snapped, fingers curling on my waist and I swallowed the whimper of pain that threatened. 

“Maybe i am... Maybe anything is better than watching you walk around this house like a corpse. You’re alive so I don’t see why you act like you died with her.” 

He growled at that, eyes blazing as he stepped back enough to stare into my face. 

“You’re right... I didn’t die with her. Although i wanted to...Maybe if i wasn’t such a fucking coward, i would have gone through with it.  .” He laughed and I felt my heart go ice cold at the very thought of it. 

“You didn’t die... So why don’t you get some help. There’s no shame in getting help... Taehyung...”

“I don’t need help. i need to be alone.” He snarled. “ I need to be allowed to cry and mourn my wife the way I want to but you and your father made sure that i couldn’t.”

I sighed, looking away in defeat. 

“Fucking look at me!” He snarled, hands grabbing both my arms and yanking me forward. “ Why won’t you look at me huh?  is the guilt finally catching up?” 

“No. No guilt. Just loathing and resentment.” I snapped back and he laughed again.

“Well too bad. Because you know what? You’re right. I paid for my company with my right to grieve and you...you paid for my name with your right to say no . “ 

I swallowed as he yanked me away from the table, dragging me to the couch in the side. 

“ I never refused you a thing.” I choked out, breathing ragged as he shoved me into the soft leather surface, crawling on top of me at once. “ I only said no when you were drunk out of your mind. When you thought it was okay to fuck me and call me by her name.” 

He made swift work of the buttons of my blouse and I stayed still, arms lying by my side. 

“ Are you telling me you want this ? You expect me to believe you want my hands on your body?” He sneered, fingers moving up to grip my hair. “You don’t want this and you don’t want me....Just like i don’t want you either. i’ll never want you. ” 

“You don’t want me.??.. You have a funny way of showing it..”  I scoffed , staring right into his eyes rolling my hips up into his  , greeted by the hard press of his length against my thigh.   “ And to be honest i don’t give a damn if you’re still in love with her , all I want is my name on your lips if you want to get off with me. Because I’m not just a toy you can use to replace your dead wife. I have  a name and you should remember it.  "

He growled again, fingers squeezing hard against the back of my head till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“I hate you. “ He said clearly. “ I hate you and everything you’ve done to me.” 

“Everything I’ve done to you? Oh you mean save your life? Taek care of your baby girl like she was my own? Give you the chance to rebuild your entire career.? Turn you into multi millionaire again?  Good. Hate me. The feelings mutual. “ I snapped. “Now if you hate me so much why are you still here? Get off me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, wife.” He sneered. “ Because like you said, I’ve paid for this.” He drawled, reaching down and squeezing between my legs. “And I’d be a pretty bad businessman if i don’t collect from my investments.” 

Before I could retort, he pulled back, just enough to grab me by the waist and flip me over on my front. I flinched when he grabbed my arms, yanking them back and trapping my wrists together in his fist at the base of my spine. My cheeks pressed into the leather couch, sticky and uncomfortable. 

i heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt buckle. 

Coward. 

I shivered when he pushed my skirt up.

“Don’t enjoy this too much, yeah?” I snapped, “ You hate me remember?” 

“Easy enough to forget its you when I don’t have to look at you.” he retorted. 

He slipped one arm under my waist, lifting me up just enough for him to yank my panties down. 

“Just remember , you don’t get to blame the alcohol for this .” I sneered. “ You’re sober and clear headed and you’re hard for me. “ 

Somehow that seemed to bother him.

He stopped . 

I could feel the hesitation in his limbs. 

It made me laugh. 

“You know Jungkook, i took you for lot of things but a coward wasn’t one of them.”

“What the fuck does that mean huh? I should put you in your fucking place for how insolent you are with me... ” he pressed down on me and i gasped when I felt his chest pressing into my back, his face inches from my own. I flinched when he sank his teeth into the mating mark on my neck. 

“it means that if you’re going to do this, if you’re going to talk big about putting me in my place like the big bad alpha that you are, at least own up to the fact that you’re attracted to me. ” 

“ You forget your fucking place, omega.”  he hissed, voice sharp and furious against my ear. “ Another word out of that mouth and i won’t be responsible for what i do.” I gritted my teeth when he curled his fingers around the inside of my thigh, parting my legs and settling in between. 

He pushed into me in one strong thrust and my eyes flew open in shock. 

“Fuck.... why are you so fucking tight...” He groaned and my shoulders began to throb as he fucked into me, setting a punishing speed that left both of us panting . We were too fucking would up for it to last any longer than a few minutes and yet, i could feel pleasure swell inside me, wetness seeping out of me and onto the leather couch beneath us. 

I wondered just how fucked up this whole thing was. Just how much damage were we doing to each other?? But it was hard to care too much about it, because even if though it was a terrible way to talk things out at least he had talked. It was nothing new....nothing earth shatteringly enlightening but he had said it all out loud and that made a difference. 

“You think you can come into my life and dictate how i fucking live.” He grunted against my ear, fingers tightening on my hair. “ it pisses me off.” 

“Everyone dies, Jungkook. People die and they leave loved ones behind but Life goes on. It has to go on. You can’t just pause life to grieve. Mina needs you.” I felt my eyes begin to sting with tears, the adrenaline from the argument fading and my body threatening to go limp as he drove into me at the same punishing pace. 

He didn’t respond, fingers closing around my throat and squeezing lightly instead.

“Save your platitudes before i decide that the warmth of your body isn’t worth the grate of your voice on my ear.” He snapped and I whimpered when he stilled, spilling into me. 

He stayed pressed up against me. breathing harshly against my ear and i waited till both our breaths evened out. 

“It’s not selfish to move on Jungkook. You aren’t insulting your wife’s memory by wanting to move on.  “ I said softly. ” Someday your heart and mind will agree with me. Whether you like it or not. That’s just how pain works, Jungkook. One day it’ll pack itself up and walk out of your heart in the middle of the night. You just have to hold on till then.” 

He didn’t reply, merely drawing himself up and off me. 

Once i heard the door to his bedroom slam shut i dragged myself up , thighs shaking and sticky. I grimaced at the mess on the couch. I stared at the packet of baby wipes on the table nearby and shuddered. That just felt wrong. 

I’d just have to go grab a washcloth from the bathroom. 

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

On that weekend, we had another dinner to attend, this time with a few investors from out of the country or so Namjoon told me. 

Although we didn’t talk about what happened and he didn’t try to touch me again, things were subtly different. 

Something had changed in the way Jungkook behaved with me. There was a little less of the usual zombie like indifference and he actually seemed to be avoiding alcohol actively. It was a welcome change. But to make up for it, Mina went into a growth spurt. Which meant ten minute naps every hours or so with wailing sobs in between. 

i was exhausted. 

So much so that Jungkook told me that he didn’t want to pick Mina up from Seokjin’s place till the next day. 

It was a little past one in the morning when I finally trudged into the apartment. Jungkook wasn’t black out drunk but he was definitely a little loose limbed, eyes just a shade more glassy than usual.

“Tonight went well. I’m thinking the guy from Macau is definitely going to consider investing.” He muttered, gripping the door frame and taking off his shoes.

I toed my own heels off, feeling upset and bereft.

“Why would you tell Jin oppa that we’ll get Mina in the morning? She’s not used to being away the whole night.” I complained, feeling jittery and nervous because the house felt so empty and strange .

I didn’t like the idea of being alone with Jungkook without the buffer of his daughter between us. The house felt foreign, the walls seemingly closer together , the space to cramped.

Jungkook dropped his keys in the bowl and tugged on his tie, watching me carefully.

“It’s too late and Jin hyung said she was already asleep. He’ll drop her off in the morning. Just relax. Would you like a drink?”

I stared at him. 

What now? 

He looked nervous and a tad worried.

 Swallowing , I shook my head, turning on my heel.  

“I’m going to bed.” I was almost at the door to the nursery when he grabbed my arm, seemingly moving faster than I could breathe.

“Wait, Heejin… “ He stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth before sighing, “I… I need to say something..” He finished and I exhaled sharply.

I tugged on my arm but he wouldn’t let go.

“Jungkook , let me go.” I said sharply. “ I’m not in the mood tonight . You aren’t drunk now and I’m running out of reasons to excuse your actions.”

His hold on my arm relaxed but he didn’t let go.

“Namjoon hyung told me about that new therapist.... Kim Taehyung?? . I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said roughly.  

I sighed, defeated. It was expected and yet it stung. I wondered if perhaps I was just beating a dead horse at this point. But Mina deserved to have a father who loved her with all his heart and Jungkook’s heart was so filled with grief it had no place for his daughter. If there was any chance I could help change that, I would take it.

I tugged my arm away again and this time he let go.

I tried to smile encouragingly. it was hard because i was all out of comfort, my own exhaustion too overwhelming at the moment.

So I took a deep breath and reached out to lightly touch his arm. 

“Listen, no one’s asking you to make a decision tonight, Jungkook.” I tried to smile a bit more widely but it probably came out as a grimace, “ Just sleep on it and think about why you think it isn’t a good idea. Taehyung’s an alpha and he may understand you better. Think about it and you can let Namjoon know later.”

He didn’t reply, merely staring at me till I began to feel a little hot around the collar.

“Well, Good night then.” I made to turn away but he grabbed me again, this time by my wrist.

“Wait.”

Patience wearing just a little thin, I stared at him, waiting as he requested.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night. At the party last week. About you not being her mother.   I shouldn’t have said that.”

It was the first time he had apologized for anything.

It took me a second to even remember what he was talking about. 

“Alright. I’m not mad. And I understand why you said it. Its fine. And you’re right. I’m not her mother and I should be more careful. ”

He nodded and then stepped back.

“ I’m sorry. For a lot of things. ”  He bowed awkwardly and I could only stare at him, shaking my head. The apologies were somehow both welcome and abhorrent to me. 

They were the kind of apology you would offer a stranger. And that made them insincere because I wasn’t a stranger. I’d been through too much these past few months, to be treated that way. 

For now I could only accept them at face value. 

“ Its alright. Just go to bed Jungkook. And listen to Namjoon oppa . I know you don’t trust me but you should trust him. He only wants what’s best for you. ”

I sounded twenty years older than I actually was and grimaced.

"There’s one more thing. Can I... I need... “ He stopped and stared at the floor. 

I felt a huge sense of foreboding rise up at that. 

“Are you going to pull the i paid for your body card? “ I said bitterly. “ You made it very clear that i can’t say no. I don’t see why you’re bothering to-”

“You can say no.” He said softly. “ You can say no.” 

And then he looked up at with limpid doe eyes, shining with all the stars in the galaxy and I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all. 

“ And if I say no, where will you go? To a brothel? you’ll come back smelling like another beta or omega and you can’t come near your daughter till it fades. Which is what? A week? “ 

Jungkook didn’t say anything and I felt helpless. 

“Is that why you sent her away tonight?” I demanded and he looked genuinely surprised. 

“What? No. Of course not . i just...You looked exhausted. I thought you’d like a night off. And just... I don’t want to have sex. Can you just sleep with me. I just... I don’t want to be alone tonight.” 

“What’s so special about tonight?” i rolled my eyes already moving to his bedroom instead of the nursery. 

He stared at me for a few seconds, eyes empty in the dark of the hallway. 

I waited a whole minute before sighing. This was excruciating and my heels hurt from wearing heels all evening. i wanted to curl into the air mattress on the floor of the nursery , possibly lie sleepless till dawn and then drive down to pick Mina up from Jin’s place. 

“Jungkook , let’s just go to bed and forget-” 

“Its her birthday.” 

I barely heard him, his lips barely moved and his voice was so low. 

I stared at him. Not sure if I’d misheard. 

“What?”

“Its her birthday. “ He repeated. 

“You can say her name.” i said calmly. “ You’re not betraying her by saying her name out loud in front of me.” 

He went a little stiff at that and i wanted to kick myself for the remark. What a hypocrite I was. I’d reprimanded Namjoon for trying to dictate Jungkook’s grief and here I was , doing the exact same thing. 

“I’m sorry. God, Jungkook... I’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that.  i didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me.. I... of course you don’t have to be alone. Should i call Namjoon oppa? Or Jimin?” I asked gently. 

“It’s Sooah’s birthday.” He was still staring at the floor, apparently he hadn’t heard a word I’d said. 

I had a sudden flash of memory, remembering that Jungkook used to sing. He had sung at his wedding seven years ago. Serenaded his wife as she walked down the aisle. I had been young then but i remembered thinking how evident his love was in every syllable sung .

Something i could hear even now, in the way he said her name. 

“Okay. What would you like to do? I... I can make seaweed soup.” I said softly. “ We can go see her if you like?” 

He stared at me. 

“I want to go alone.” He said finally. 

I hesitated. 

“I’ll drive you. i’ll stay in the car. You can’t drive.” I reminded him. 

Jungkook’s driver’s license had been suspended after one too many traffic violations. I drove him around often . 

He didn’t reply, staring out of the huge bay windows and i sighed. 

“Alright... Why don’t you go change  into something more comfortable yeah? i’ll get the soup going and we, “ i bit my lips, “ , I’m sorry, And you can go see her.  “ I smiled, before moving to the kitchen and grabbing the dried seaweed. I soaked it in cold water, before getting the beef, garlic, soy sauce, salt and pepper and the sesame oil from the cupboards. 

Ten minutes later, the soup was boiling away and I peered out at the door leading to his bedroom. I was still wearing the cocktail gown and my head was beginning to throb. I oved to the nursery and stripped quickly, slipping on my white t shirt and a pair of pink corduroy shorts. 

I would be in the car anyway.  By the time i finished taking off all my make up, the soup was done and Jungkook was slumped over the counter. He looked drained, more so than usual . In fact he looked notably worse than how he was ten minutes ago. 

Torn between the urge to draw him into my arms and the helpless knowledge that he would absolutely hate me touching him , i merely hovered near the stove, pouring the stove into a small airtight container. 

On a whim I moved to the cupboard  in the corner that housed all the crockery and threw it open. 

“What was her favorite bowl?” I said casually, staring at him. 

He blinked, staring at me like i was speaking a foreign tongue. 

“Her favorite bowl , Jungkook The one she always drank or ate from?” 

He swallowed but leaned his palms down on the granite countertop, levering himself off the tall stool of the kitchen island and making his way over to me. I stepped back, giving him space to peer into the depths of the black marble shelves. 

He finally stuck a hand in and drew out a pale yellow and mauve bowl , a little worn but intact. 

He held it carefully, running his fingers gently over the bowl, savoring the surface his wife had once caressed with her own fingers. I watched as his lips curved, a pale pale imitation of a smile but a smile nonetheless and I felt my breath catch in my throat. 

This was probably the first time he’d smiled in the three months i’d known him. 

My heart began to pound, a steady staccato that began rising in volume and i willed myself to stay calm. 

“I..uh.. I can wash it for you.” I said softly .

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come and he stared at my outstretched hand like it was a snake . 

Face almost eerily blank he cleared his throat. 

“I’ll do it.” 

i watched as he moved to wash the bowl under the spray from the faucet and finished clearing up the kitchen. i grabbed a small bag to keep the sea wood soup in and held the bag open when Jungkook finished washing the bowls. He grabbed a fresh kitchen towel and carefully wiped down the moisture before wrapping the bowl in the towel and keeping it inside the bag, carefully. 

I smiled and zipped the bag shut. 

“Lets go shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I sat waiting in the car, staring out into the darkness of the parking lot, while the rain poured torrents outside the glass windows of the car. I felt unaccountably alone, like I was the only human being left on the planet. 

It had been a little past an hour since Jungkook had disappeared into the building that held his wife’s ashes. I wasn’t sure if i should give him a call. Had he fallen asleep in there. 

I told myself I would wait another hour and if he didn’t come out, I would go check on him. 

I dozed lightly against the window, exhaustion beginning to creep in. I wanted to sob at how tired i was. I could have gotten a full nights sleep, something i hadn’t had since the day I took Mina into my arms. 

But then, i remembered the tiny smile that had sprung up on his face and i grinned despite myself. That was progress wasn’t it? It definitely was. I was sure that if only Jungkook could be convinced to go meet Taehyung , the alpha therapist, things could get so much better for him. I wanted to have him at least halfway to being ..... capable of handling his own daughter, before i left him. if not the worry alone would eat me alive. 

I was just getting ready to perhaps climb over the console and nap in the backseat when my phone rang. 

I glanced at the dashboard, frowning. it was two thirty in the morning. 

Who?

I grabbed my phone from the bag and my heart leapt to my throat. 

“Jin? What’s wrong? What happened to her?” I could feel my heart threatening to give out, any number of terrible possibilities running through my head in a vicious loop.

“nothing happened, Heejin , take a deep breath... She’s just running a fever. it was quite low earlier but its hitting 101  now and I’m getting a little worried. I’ve given her cold baths and kept a wet towel on her but it doesn’t seem to be coming down.” 

“We’ll be there in ten minutes! “ i said quickly.

“I’m sorry, Heejinah, i don’t have any experience with babies and-”

“it’s alright...thank you for calling me oppa!” i hung up , already fumbling with the door and stepping out into the rain. i was soaked through in three second flat. What a day to wear a white t shirt. 

I ran quickly, stumbling a little on the gravel pathway and hoping to God i was going the right way. I ran into the foyer, the poor security guard falling asleep over his desk glancing up at me in sympathy. 

“there was a man here earlier?”

“Second floor third room.” He said casually.

I nodded, already rushing for the steps. I climbed the four flights of stair in two minutes, my heart threatening to give out. I found Jungkook in the room , kneeling on the floor and he looked at me in shock that swiftly turned to anger.

“Jungkook-” i gasped because the run up had robbed me of my breath. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He moved so quickly I could barely blink before he was right up in front of me. 

“Jungkook, I... We need...” I tried to draw a breath in but before I could form the words he grabbed my arm, so hard that I whimpered in pain. 

“I told you i wanted to be alone, what the fuck is your fucking problem?!” He snarled.

“Jungkook-” Before i could finish, he yanked me just a bit closer to him before shoving me out of the room with his wife’s portraits and the small ornate vase that held her ashes. 

it wasn’t that hard. 

He didn’t push me in a very brutal way. 

In fact it was probably with lesser force than what anyone slamming a door would use. 

But,

Jungkook was six feet two. He weighed a 170 pounds. 

I was a hundred pounds wet and barely came up to his shoulders. 

And it was just my luck that the wall opposite to the door had a large concrete and granite horse figurine placed right in front of it.  

I crashed into the torso of the equine, my bones rattling inside me and I whimpered when my wrist made contact with the hard surface, bending a bit out of place. 

I slid to the floor in a wet lump, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened.

Jungkook stood frozen by the door horrified as he stared at his hands, as thought he couldn’t quite fathom what he had just done. 

A sharp burning pain began in my sides and I gasped out.

“Oh, fuck.” I swore. 

Jungkook moved to help me up but i was already crawling away from him, scrambling to my feet, ignoring the ache in my side.

“I’m sorry.” I said softly, holding both my hands up. “ It’s Mina...she’s running a fever. We need to go get her.” 

“Heejin-ah, I’m...”

One more apology and i would officially lose it, i thought slightly hysterically. 

“its my fault.” I said sharply, “  I should have probably tried calling you from the car instead of barging in like this but Jin called and i got worried...I wasn’t thinking straight so I’m sorry about that... I think we should go get her as soon as we can.” 

“Did i hurt you?” He demanded , reaching out for me again and I nearly fell again trying to move away from his touch. 

“No.. No I’m fine.” 

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

“Are you sure, we don’t have to go the doctor.?  “ He asked nervously, watching me carefully wipe down her body with the slightly damp wet cloth. I nodded, carefully squeezing the water out before dipping the towel in water again. 

“She’ll be fine. Her fever’s come down and with babies this young, its safer to care for them at home than to take them to a hospital.” I said casually, 

 “I wasn’t talking about her.” He said stiltedly. 

I blinked, staring up at him in surprise. 

“What?”

“I think we should go to the doctor. You fell hard. ”

“Jungkook what are you even on about?” I said crossly, steadfastly ignoring the pain in my sides. It was sharp and unbearable with every breath I took in but I was too terrified to go to the hospital and have them tell me I’d cracked my rib or something. 

Partly because that would be so inconvenient. 

Partly because Jungkook would probably go back to being a guilt ridden shadow of himself if that happened. 

“I’m going to call Yoongi hyung.” 

Before I could protests some more he was already on his feet, moving to the living room.

Yoongi arrived thirty minutes later , annoyed and sleepy, dressed in a soft white t shirt and stone wash jeans. 

“It’s four thirty in the morning , she better be dying Jungkook..” He rasped out near the front door and i flinched at the murderous tone to his voice. 

Suddenly , i hoped desperately that my ribs had cracked. 

Yoongi stepped in , staring at me . He took in the mess of quilts i sat on and sighed. 

“Come here and take your shirt off.” He said gruffly. 

I blinked, feeling blood rush to my face. Was he always this handsome? Hating the very unwelcome flutter of nerves, I moved to stand in front of him, grabbing the hem of my t shirt .

But the movement jolted my rib and pain sharp and lancing shot through my side. I yelped and dropped my hand again breathing harshly which only seemed to make things worse. 

I swallowed and Yoongi blinked, reaching out to gently grip my elbows. 

“Hey...relax ... “ He said gently. 

I felt the press of a warm chest at my back.

“Let me help hyung.” Jungkook’s voice rumbled through my body, his chin brushing the top of my head and he bent over me from the back, fingers gripping the hem of my shirt and carefully lifting it up to just above the curve of my breasts. 

Yoongi was staring at Jungkook over my shoulders expression unreadable. 

“So you do know how to act after all.” He commented drily and I heard Jungkook inhale sharply behind me. 

“Hyung...” He said sharply, and Yoongi merely rolled his eyes. 

“How did this happen?” He ran slender fingers all over my skin, feeling each dent and dip carefully. 

“I ..uh.. I sort of fell into a statue? It was made of concrete and quite heavy.” 

His face shifted into a frown. 

“Jungkook , tell me you didn’t push her.” He said sharply and I jumped a bit.

“No...he didn’t.” i said sharply and Yoongi ignored me , staring right at the alpha behind me. 

“I didn’t mean to.” He said finally.

“You broke her rib, kid.” 

I groaned in defeat. Behind me Jungkook stiffened.

“It was an accident.” I said sharply and Yoongi gave me an unimpressed look.

“If i had a won for every wife that told me that.” 

“It was my fault and-” I shut my mouth. I did sound like the poster child for abused wife in denial. 

“Relax... I’m not going to send your handsome husband to prison.” He chuckled. “ This time.” He added, giving Jungkook another glare. 

“It won’t happen again. ever. “ Jungkook’s voice shook a little. 

I sighed, already imagining the self flagellation that was probably going on inside the alpha’s head.

Yoongi’s voice drew me out of my head. 

 “Its not a break. It looks like a crack which is easier to heal. But i still want you to come in tomorrow. We’ll get it x rayed. Its going to take a couple of months to heal.” 

I gaped.

“Months?” 

“As long as you take it easy you’ll be fine. Now where’s the little one?” 

Yoongi dropped off a small bottle of pediatric paracetamol and told me to keep an eye on her temperature before bidding us goodbye. 

Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook turned to me , eyes wide and lips parted. 

“If you apologize , I’m going to throw this  at your face.” i said calmly, fingers closing over the neck of the ceramic vase on the table. 

Jungkook blinked. 

“I’m sorry. “ He said nonetheless and I sighed, pulling my hands away. 

How fitting. Neither of us could act out of character. 

Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything under the sun. 

I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt him in any way. 

“Just go to bed , Jungkook. I’ll be fine.” 

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

Author’s Note : As always the pain is here and probably going to get worse. But Jungkook seems to be turning mildly human so let’s see if he can keep that up. Also handsome pediatric doctor Yoongi as second lead because i like to torture myself. 

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[seita]

— you love too easy | hitoshi shinsou (m.)

pairing: hitoshi shinsou/f!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

wordcount: 𝟾𝟹𝟾𝟶

cw: childhood friends!au, roommate!au

tags: unrequited love, pining, toxic relationship (oc x shinsou), brief kaminari x reader, cunnilignus, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, fingering, size kink, loss of virginity, light virgin kink, creampie, squirting, angst with a happy ending

note: sorry if u like kaminari. i made him a huge douchebag in this. i swear i like him i just needed a character to be,,,,well, a douchebag.

— all your life you'd been by his side. you've loved him since you could remember. you've always been by his side so why did he give his heart away to everyone but you; the one who would treat it right?

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© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.  

He fell in love too easily. You knew that your entire life. He’d give his heart away to anyone and everyone, fully and with everything he had. He loved with every fiber of his being. And it always ended in disaster. 

You couldn’t count how many nights you’d spent by his side rubbing his back as he cried because his girlfriend lied to him, comforting him as he hunched over a toilet after crying himself sick because his girlfriend cheated on him, or forcing him to eat because he got so depressed after she ignored him. 

It was an endless cycle. 

Yet you were always there to build him back up -- to pick up the pieces. 

Ever since the first girlfriend he had in Kindergarten that lasted for 2 days and ended in his tears up to the girl he dated in senior year of highschool who cheated on him with her ex...you were the one to fix him. 

Yes, Hitoshi Shinsou fell in love far too easily and way too hard.

The thought that kept you awake every night, however, was why couldn’t it be you? You were the one who took the best care of his heart -- being the one to piece it back together every time it was broken. He didn’t need to love anyone else. If he just loved you, he would never have to worry if he just gave his heart to you. 

But he never would. 

Because he didn’t love you like you loved him. 

You’d known him since you were babies -- your parents were friends in highschool and it went on well into adulthood. 

Naturally, the two of you grew close -- it was inevitable. Your crush on him developed in childhood -- you two got lost in the mall after you strayed away and he kept you safe and calm until you found your parents, his hand clasped tightly around yours as he let you cling to him. That was the first time you realized he made your cheeks feel warm and your tummy fluttery.

Your parents always joked that the two of you would fall in love and get married. It was nearly impossible for that idea not to be imprinted in your mind. 

Except, it was never an idea he entertained. 

Part of you felt foolish. You were a grown adult with a crush that you’d harbored since childhood -- pathetic, one-sided crush at that. 

The thing was, unlike Shinsou, you’d never dated before. It was never something you desired. Sure, you had confessions and love letters but you’d never once accepted them. You just couldn’t see yourself being with anyone but him.

Upon graduating, the two of you realized how terrible it was to be 18 trying to make it in the adult world. After a few years of fumbling and nearly getting kicked out by not making your rent payments on time, you decided that rooming together would be the best idea. 

It was a foolproof plan; you’d known each other for your whole lives so it wasn’t like you’d suddenly hate each other, you knew he was responsible with his money and you were too, and he was a quiet, chill guy so there wouldn’t be any obnoxious ruckus. 

What you didn’t think about, however, was him bringing girls home. 

“This is Aoi,” he introduced, motioning to the smiling girl beside him, “Aoi, this is _____...she’s my best friend.”

“And his roommate,” you added, holding your hand out politely.

“Oh you...live together?” you didn’t miss the distaste in her tone as she reached out to give you a weak handshake, pulling away as quickly as she could. She immediately wrapped her arms around his and he leaned how to press a kiss to the top of her head. 

Ouch. That made your heart hurt. 

Of course, it was nothing new. This was something you’d been through time and time again. 

What you hadn’t accounted for, was her dislike of you. Naturally, his past girlfriends hadn’t always been fond of you -- after all, you were a big part of their boyfriend’s life. And jealousy was a fickle disease. 

But Aoi’s dislike bordered on hatred and disgust over you. Every chance she got, she was pulling Shinsou away from you with some thinly veiled excuse. It seemed your best friend was none the wiser as well. 

You couldn’t blame him -- he was in love. Unfortunately. 

Aoi’s glares were ice cold, often sending shivers down your spine when she set it upon you. It was uncomfortable to say the least. She was at your place often enough for you to take up the art of avoiding her.

That is until one day when things seemed to come to a head for her. You weren’t sure what  you did but you found yourself cornered in the kitchen one evening while Shinsou was taking a shower -- leaving just the two of you alone. 

“Listen to me,” Aoi spat, arms crossed over her chest, making her look petulant, “You need to back off of Toshi.”

“Uhh...what?” you grunted, looking up from the glass of chocolate milk you were pouring.

“Stay away from him!” she spat.

“We literally live together,” you rolled your eyes, capping the pint of milk, “I can’t stay away from him.”

“You know what I mean,” she hissed, clearly pissed off by your sarcasm. She marched up to you, grabbing your upper arm in a vice grip, her acrylic nails pinching your skin, “I see the way you look at him. I know that look in your eye. You love him.”

Your mind blanked, mouth opening but failing to produce any words. She smirked smugly, stepping back and crossing her arms again.

“I…” your brows came together as you shook your head, finally putting the milk away.

“I knew it,” she huffed, “You can’t take him from me. Toshi is mine so you better remember that. You have no idea what I can do to you.”

With that parting threat, she stormed out of the kitchen back to Shinsou’s bedroom. You felt tears sting your eyes, feeling utterly humiliated by her. 

Another thing about Hitoshi Shinsou is he’s terribly dense sometimes. You had no idea how he managed to miss the horrifying tension between you and Aoi. But he somehow did. 

The three of you sat in the living room -- the two of them cuddled on the couch while you curled up under a throw blanket with your phone open to Twitter on the loveseat. They were watching some movie Aoi picked out that you knew Shinsou hated, but he watched it anyway. The thought made you bitter.

You’d never make him watch movies he hated. That’s just selfish. 

You let out a sigh, catching your best friend’s attention immediately.

“What is it, darlin’?” he asked, the usual pet name he used for you making your stomach flutter. Aoi’s eyes narrowed in distaste at it but he paid her no mind.

“Oh, I’ve just got a bit of a headache,” you mumbled, locking your phone to look over at him.

He frowned, concerned, pulling his arm from around his girlfriend’s shoulders. She whined at the loss, attempting to pull him back but he paid her no mind.

He disappeared from the living room to the kitchen. You could hear the refrigerator open before he began shuffling around the cabinets.

“You’re not slick,” Aoi hissed, keeping her voice low, “Why don’t you just go away. Don’t you think he’d prefer to be alone with his girlfriend? You’re just a third wheel.”

You didn’t get to reply before Shinsou returned, holding a glass of your chocolate milk and a couple pills. He smiled, handing everything to you before taking a seat with Aoi again. She immediately clung to him with a whine.

“Thank you Toshi,” you smiled, popping the pills in your mouth before taking a quick gulp of the milk. 

“Anytime, darlin’” he smiled, turning his attention back to the movie he hated. 

Part of you felt prideful that he was willing to pull himself away from his girlfriend to take care of you. She clearly saw you as competition and you couldn’t deny the giddy feeling it gave you when you proved to her that you meant something to Shinsou. 

You noticed very quickly when Shinsou stopped calling you by his nickname. It baffled you and you didn’t hesitate to bring it up to him.

“Ah, Aoi mentioned she doesn’t like it when I call other girls pet names,” he rubbed the back of his neck in that familiarly anxious way of him. He was avoiding your gaze, further ticking you off.

“I’m not other girls, Hitoshi,” he visibly cringed at hearing his full name, “I’m your best friend. You’ve always called me that.”

He sighed, biting his lip, clearly torn, “Sorry _____,” you frowned at the sound of your name. It seemed so foreign hearing it where he’d usually call you ‘darlin’’, “She is my girlfriend and it’d be shitty of me to neglect her wishes. I want this to work, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, arms crossing over your chest, “This is stupid Hitoshi.”

He sighed, clearly growing annoyed as well, “Look, you’re just my friend, alright? So back off.”

Your jaw fell open at those words, tears already starting to sting at your eyes, “Just your friend? That’s low, Hitoshi. I am not just your friend and you know it.”

He groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair, “You’re starting to sound jealous and clingy, _____. It’s not a good look.”

Feeling that the tears were going to spill any moment, you shook your head and stormed past him, “Screw you Shinsou.”

You slammed your bedroom door, missing the sight of him burying his face in his hands. Hearing you address him by his last name was even worse than hearing his first. 

Things remained tense between the two of you for a week. You had really been hurt by his words. You always thought you meant a lot to him -- that you’d never be the person who was pushed aside for a relationship. You never thought Shinsou would do that. 

As a result, you made no effort to even speak to him. Sometimes you’d pass him while he sat on the couch, Aoi snuggled up to him. Whenever you made eye contact with you, she held this smug, superior look that made you want to clock her. 

You’d never hated a girlfriend of his more.

Finally, Shinsou gave in. He couldn’t stand not having you to talk to. There was this heavy feeling lingering on his shoulders every time he thought about the cold way you called him by his last name. He never wanted to be addressed like that by you. 

There were a series of knocks on your door and you paused, debating on ignoring him. He knocked again when you took too long to answer.

“Come in,” you groaned, putting your laptop aside to give him your attention.

“Hey,” he smiled half-heartedly as he slipped into your room, closing the door behind him. 

“What do you want?” you asked, no bite in your voice.

He sighed, taking a seat beside you on the bed, “I want to apologize for what I said. I know that hurt your feelings so I’m sorry.”

You were quiet for a moment before you sat up straighter, “Hitoshi...I don’t want you to become a different person because of a girl.”

“What do you mean?” he frowned. 

You sighed, “I think she’s a bad influence on you, Toshi.”

He softened briefly at your use of his nickname but it was quickly replaced by a cold stare that sent shivers down your spine, “A-A bad influence? I’m not a kid, _____.”

You frowned, “You don’t have to be a kid to be negatively influenced by another person's toxicity, Hitoshi.”

“You think she’s toxic?” he scoffed, standing up, “You don’t even know her. You’ve barely even spoken to her.”

“Well the bit that I have spoken to her was not pleasant,” you spat, moving to sit at the edge of the bed with your feet on the floor, “I don’t think she’s good for you.”

“What are you, my mother now?” he growled, spinning around to glare at you, “Maybe I was wrong...maybe you are just jealous.”

“How am I acting jealous?” you cried, growing frustrated, “Caring about your wellbeing is jealousy now?”

“Oh get off it,” he groaned, “What’s she done then, huh? Tell me.”

You paused, remembering her threat. But you were so pissed off you couldn’t keep it in anymore, “She’s threatened me to stay away from you. She’s so insecure about our friendship she threatened me over it! Said you were hers and I better remember that. She’s crazy!”

“She didn’t say that,” he argued, eyes narrowed maliciously, “You’re just making shit up to make her look bad now. That’s really low, _____.”

“You asked me to tell you what she did and then you just don’t believe me?!” you screeched, tossing your hands up in exasperation.

“I thought you’d tell me the truth, not make up some pathetic lie!” he shouted, making you flinch. 

“Pathetic?” you breathed, shoulders sagging, “Is that what you think of me?”

He was quiet for a moment, jaw set. He seemed to be thinking his words carefully, which made his next even more painful, “Yeah. I do. This jealousy and lying of yours is pathetic. I get if you don’t like her but don’t make up shit about her,” he made way for the door, yanking it open, “Grow the fuck up, ______.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply before he was slamming your door shut. All at once, your emotions came crashing down and you buried your face in your pillow to silence your sobs. 

Your eyes fluttered open and you groaned, feeling your head pound. A glance out the window showed that it was nighttime. You had fallen asleep. 

You climbed out of bed to your desk to find your packet of headache pills. You let out a sigh of relief as you swallowed them down with the bottle of water sat on your nightstand. Flopping back into bed, you closed your eyes and attempted to relax your body. 

Just as it seemed that you were going to fall back asleep, there was a loud noise from past your door. You frowned, your eyes fluttering open in confusion. 

It came again and it took you a moment to realize what it was. A woman’s moan. 

“Toshi!” you heard her squeal, making you flinch.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you hissed, feeling those tears come burning their way back. 

“That feel good, baby? Let me hear you,” he growled and your hands flew up to cover your ears to muffle the sounds of her pleasure. 

This was low for Shinsou. Sure, he’d had sex with girlfriends before but he always made sure to keep it down for your sake. Now he was just doing it to dig at you. 

He wasn’t wrong about your jealousy but you knew he thought you were jealous over his attention being taken away. But that wasn’t the case at all. It was because you were in love with him. 

Now he was forcing you to listen to him fuck the girlfriend you literally had a fight over. This wasn’t like Shinsou at all. 

She really was just a terrible influence on him but he was too in love to see it. She was making him into a different person and you hated it. It was happening so quickly. 

As you laid in bed, tears wetting your bed as you hid your head under your pillow, you couldn’t help but think.

The stupid fool really fell in love way too easily. 

Things went from bad to worse astonishingly fast. Aoi was over more often than she had been before. The snotty comments and humiliating words from her every time you saw her and the cold, deadly glare Shinsou set on you whenever you came anywhere near his girlfriend was wearing on you. 

You were unhappy. It was an emotion you rarely ever felt around him -- Shinsou was always the one to pick you up, not put you down. It got to the point where he wouldn’t even respond to your greetings or questions, giving you the complete silent treatment. 

It hurt. 

To escape the suffocating negativity of your apartment, you picked up even more shifts at work. The video game shop became a place you found solace in. 

If Shinsou noticed your absence, he didn’t make it known to you. 

“Will that be all for you today?” you asked, plastering on a fake, customer service smile onto your face.

“Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled, slapping down a few bills to cover the charge, “But I think I’d like to add your number to my receipt.”

You took a moment to look at him. He had blonde hair with a lightning bolt of black through it. He was dressed in black jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket. He was cute, you’d give him that.

“Is that the best you could come up with?” you asked, opening the register with a brow raised.

He giggled, making you smile despite yourself, “I was on a time crunch I didn’t want to miss my chance.”

“Who said you had a chance to begin with?” you asked, passing him his change, “3.14 is your change.”

“Well, I was hoping you’d give one to me,” he shrugged, stuffing the change into  his pocket before grabbing the bagged video game he’d purchased. 

You gazed at him for a moment. He was charismatic and cute. He liked video games just like you. And he’d be a great distraction.

“Sure, why not?” you mused, watching his eyes go wide.

“Wait really?” he gasped, a grin stretching across his face.

“Did you think I’d say no?” you asked. 

“U-Usually I get rejected so…” he shrugged, scratching the back of his head with a cute blush reaching his ears, “Anyway, when’s your shift end?”

“Um...closing time, so about 8:30,” you replied, glancing at the clock. 5 hours left. 

“Sweet, I’ll pick you up!” he grinned.

“I-I’ll have to change though!” you complained, making him pause and shake his head.

“Don’t worry about it!” with those parting words, he bolted out the door, the bell chiming to signal his departure. 

As he disappeared from view, you realized you didn’t even know his name. 

You would come to find he was Denki Kaminari; a college student majoring in graphic design. He had a friend named Katsuki Bakugou who was as loud as he was angry. Eijirou Kirishima was a kind, chill guy who mellowed out the explosive Bakugou well. Mina and Sato, two friends-turned-lovers, were a common source of laughter for the group. 

You were together for a little over a month and a half when he finally asked to meet your friends. Truth be told, the only person you could consider a friend would be Shinsou. You had acquaintances and those you hung real casually with but Shinsou was the only person you’d consider a friend.

Well, you weren’t sure if he could even be called that anymore. 

Eventually, you gave in and decided to bring Kaminari to your apartment. 

“Whoa, nice place,” he mumbled, looking around. 

“You think so? Thanks,” you smiled, leading him towards the living room, “Like I said...things are...tense between me and Hitoshi so…”

“Who’re you?” a familiar voice came from the entry of the hallway. 

Shinsou stood there, messy hair and tired eyed wearing basketball shorts and an oversized t-shirt. His eyes burned holes into Kaminari, who visibly shrunk beneath the heated glare. You took note of how Shinsou didn’t even look at you. 

That still hurt.

“I’m Denki Kaminari,” the blonde replied, approaching Shinsou to shake his hand, “I’m _____’s boyfriend!”

You didn’t miss the shift in Shinsou’s look, his eyebrows perking up ever so slightly. His gaze finally shifted to you before he scoffed from his nose, making you wince. 

“Alright,” Shinsou mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets before turning his back to the both of you, stalking back to his room with a slam of the door. 

Kaminari winced, “Boy, you weren’t kidding.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, motioning him to follow you, “Let’s head to my room. I don’t know if Aoi is here or not and I don’t care to find out.”

“I kinda wanna meet her too,” your boyfriend whispered, lowering his voice so it didn’t carry to Shinsou.

“No you don’t,” you chuckled, shutting your bedroom door once the two of you were safely inside. 

You sat beside him on the bed, reaching for your remote to click the TV on for background noise. He cuddled in beside you, commenting on how soft your bed was. 

“You smell really good,” he suddenly whispered, nosing at your neck. 

You blinked in surprise, moving your head so he could get a better angle, “Th-Thanks…”

He hummed as you shivered once he pressed a few soft kisses against your neck. It tickled a bit but also sent a strange tingle down your spine the more he kissed. Your heart hammered in your chest and you briefly wondered if Denki could hear it. 

He cupped your jaw, pulling you into a deep kiss. His tongue met your bottom lip, making you sigh against his lips. 

You barely noticed his hand crawling up your shirt until it snuck beneath the band of your bra. The unfamiliar feeling of someone cupping your breast had you pulled away, tugging on Kaminari’s hand to pull him away. 

“W-We shouldn’t…” you whispered, unsure of how to reject him, “W-With Shinsou the way he is…”

Kaminari looked skeptical for a second before nodding his head, “Got it.”

And that was that. 

At least you thought until he began trying more and more. It became common for you to find his hand up your shirt. The feeling made you uneasy, making you realize you really weren’t ready to have sex. Kaminari was your first boyfriend and you weren’t willing to give everything up to him like that.

“Why do you always stop me?” Kaminari asked one day, voice soft and reassuring.

“I just…” you cleared your throat, biting your lip, “I don’t want to go that far yet.”

He was quiet for a moment before smiling and nodding his head, pulling you closer to him with a kiss to your forehead. Your body relaxed, thankful that he wasn’t angry with you like you had feared he would be. 

He began following your wishes, no longer attempting to go past kissing. You were thankful. 

Unfortunately, your bliss didn’t last long because next thing you knew, he was dumping you. Over text. 

You had just got home from work, your feet aching and dread pooling in your stomach at the idea of being home. You were so tired of being scared to come home, it was exhausting. Shinsou was sitting on the couch, eating something he’d made himself for dinner with his back to you. He didn’t even show any signs that he knew you were home. 

Lingering by the door, you pulled your phone out to check your notifications. 

One from Denki made your heart stop -- the preview text already displaying what you feared. Your fingers were trembling as you unlocked your phone to look at the message. 

As you read it, the words grew blurrier until tears began to drip onto your screen -- further obscuring the words there. 

A small whimper escaped your throat, despite the way you tried to choke down any sounds. You quickly scurried to get to your bedroom when a strong hand snagged your wrist. Wide eyed, you were spun around to find Shinsou wearing a frown and furrowed brows. 

“Why are you crying?” he asked, voice stern with concern. 

You shook your head, feeling pathetic. You didn’t like Kaminari that much. Truthfully, you were mostly dating him to get away from Shinsou. But the idea that you were dumped because you wouldn’t have sex was utterly humiliating. Your first real boyfriend dumped you because you wouldn’t put out. 

“You were right,” you sniffled, unable to hold back the sob that tore through your chest, “I am pathetic.”

He didn’t have the chance to even think of a reply before you were escaping his hold to hide away in your bedroom. You haphazardly stripped and changed into your softest set of clothes, deciding you were going to wallow in your own self pity for the night. 

Your humiliation overshadowed the fact Shinsou had shown you the first sign of care in weeks. He had reacted to your crying just as he always had and instinctively moved to comfort you. 

You could hear muffled voices from the hallway, one male and one female. The fact he brought her over after you just had a near meltdown in front of him irked you and only brought more tears forth. 

A sense of anger rushed over you -- you didn’t want her there. This was your house and you didn’t want her there while you were going through it. You had half a mind to go out there and kick her out, maybe Shinsou would let it slide since you were clearly having a tough time. 

What you didn’t expect were the shouts coming from them. You frowned and walked towards your door, cracking it open to listen to their shouting from the living room.

“You’re kicking me out?!” Aoi cried. 

“I’m not kicking you out,” Shinsou sighed, “You don’t live here. I’m just asking you to go home for the night, Aoi.”

“Why should I?” Aoi argued, “Because she’s upset? Who cares!”

“I care!” Shinsou snapped.

Aoi scoffed, “Oh yeah, since when? Last I checked you picked me over her!”

“I didn’t pick anyone over anyone,” Shinsou huffed.

“Really?” Aoi’s tone was dripping in sarcasm, “You haven’t paid her a second of attention since your little fight. I doubt you even noticed how she’s been working full-time instead of part-time. Why do you think that is? To get away from you! Not that I give a shit, but you have been treating her like dirt. So don’t even try and pretend you give a shit, I know you don’t. You only feel bad because she’s crying. Once she gets over it you’ll just come back to me in the end. So just let her sulk by herself, she’s a big girl.”

Shinsou was quiet after that. You were sure he wasn’t even going to respond but you continued to stand there and listen. The apartment was silent, you could even hear the ticking of the decorative clock Shinsou’s mother had given you both. 

“She was right, huh?” he finally whispered.

“Huh?” Aoi replied, clearly annoyed.

“I really did let you turn me into someone else,” he sighed, “God, I’m so stupid.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Hitoshi?” she snapped, growing impatient over the argument. 

“You should leave,” Shinsou said, voice strong once again, “You and I are done.”

“What?!” Aoi shrieked, stomping her foot, “You can’t dump me! Not for her!”

“Get out, Aoi,” Shinsou growled, yanking the front door open.

She scoffed, “Don’t come crawling back to me when you learn she isn’t worth it.”

The slam of the door signalled the end. Silence ensued and you slipped back into your room, letting your door shut silently. 

Just as you expected, there were a few soft knocks on your door. You didn’t reply but he opened up anyway, peeking in to find you sitting on the bed with your head hung.

“I assume you heard all that,” he said, cupping the back of his neck nervously. 

“Yeah, kind of hard to miss,” you mumbled, feeling awkward about sharing this moment with him.

You didn’t look up when he sat down beside you. With a sudden tug, you found yourself wrapped up in a sweet embrace. 

“Why were you crying? Did something happen with that Kaminari dude? Did he hurt you?” his concern brought forth a new flood of tears that you let go. 

“He dumped me,” you whined, clinging to the front of his shirt.

“Why?” he asked, petting your hair softly.

You scoffed, shame building up inside you, “Because I didn’t want to have sex with him.”

Immediately he pushed you back by your shoulders to look at your face, “He dumped you ‘cause you wouldn’t fuck him?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze, “He said he had needs and he wasn’t willing to wait for me to put out.”

“Jesus,” Shinsou scoffed, shaking his head, “What a prick,” he pulled you into his chest again with a sigh, “It’s good you didn’t sleep with him then. He wouldn’t have been worth it.”

“Yeah, I would have regretted it,” you nodded, “I’m not even sad he broke up with me. I just feel like shit that it was over sex. He was my first boyfriend and I got dumped because I wasn’t ready...that sort of feels shitty, you know?”

Shinsou nodded, resting his cheek atop your head, “I understand. It’s like a blow to your self-esteem, yeah?”

“Exactly,” you sniffled, your tears finally coming to a stop as he held you and let you talk, “I didn’t like him enough to sleep with him anyway. Even if I was ready.”

Shinsou chuckled, “Well, I’m glad you’re not heartbroken over it.”

You were quiet for a long moment before you pulled away from him, “How are you? I know you liked Aoi.”

Shinsou frowned, looking at his hands in his lap before shrugging, “I actually don’t really feel anything.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised. Usually he would be in tears by now. But he was right, there wasn’t even an ounce of sadness in his eyes.

He nodded, “All I really cared about was you. I guess realizing what she really was wiped out anything I felt for her. Truthfully, it was probably going to be over soon anyway.”

“Why do you say that?” you asked.

“We just didn’t have good chemistry, I suppose. The sex was great but beyond that we didn’t really share any common interests,” he explained, leaning back on his hands with a sigh.

You cringed at the mention of sex -- remembering the night you sobbed as you were forced to listen to them go at it. Shinsou seemed to notice your discomfort, leaning up straight once more to take your hands in his. 

“I’m sorry, ______,” he breathed, making you look up at him, “I was such a fuckin’ asshole to you. You didn’t deserve that and if you chose to never forgive me I would understand. But I promise I will never let a girl come first again. You’re my best friend, you’re the entire world to me and you will always be here when all the girls leave, I know that. No one can ever replace you.”

His words caused a flood of tears to flood down your cheeks again. You threw your arms around his shoulders, tugging him into a desperate hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your shirt with his face buried in your neck. 

“I will always be here, Toshi,” you hiccuped, “I really will. It doesn’t matter if you choose the next 50 girls over me, I would never let you go. I would rather live with you ignoring me and making me cry over not having you at all.”

He sighed, tears of his own falling from his eyes and wetting your skin but you didn’t mind, “I would never ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to,” you whispered, voice trembling. You couldn’t stop the next words from coming, you didn’t even try, “That’s how strong my love is for you, Toshi. I would do anything for your happiness. I’ll let you cry on my shoulder when girl after girl breaks your heart, even though it hurts so damn much because I know I would never, ever let you down like that. I’ll sit with you in the living room while another girl is wrapped in your arms, desperately wishing it was me, because you want me and her to be friends. You don’t even know it but you have every bit of me,” your voice broke as you let out a sob, taking a stuttering breath before continuing, “I never dated because I only ever loved you. You’re the only one I ever want to love. I don’t even care if you don’t feel the same, Toshi, I just needed you to know...I have loved you since we were kids. Whenever your mom joked that we would get married, I used to go to sleep hoping it would come true one day. You’re it for me, you know?”

Shinsou was still, every muscle in his body tense against you. You remained relaxed, relishing in being held in his arms even though it very well may be the last time you would ever experience it. His tears had stopped and you could feel his hands trembling against your back from where he was still holding your shirt in tight fists. 

Finally, slowly, he pulled away. You avoided his gaze, scared of what you may find there. With trembling fingers, he lifted your chin until you were finally forced to meet his gaze.

“______…” he whispered, your voice like honey on his lips, “Is that true? Since we were kids?”

You chuckled through your still falling tears, “Remember that time at the summer festival when I wandered off and you had to chase me? And I got scared because I couldn’t find our parents? When you let me hold onto you and you kept reassuring me that everything was okay…” you shrugged, your voice cracking as you uttered, “I knew I loved you then. And I love you to this day.”

His wide eyes were glassy as he stared at you, mouth agape in his shock. It was so much for him to take in. 

Before you knew what was happening, he was leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. Your vision went white for a second in shock at the feeling. 

His lips were soft and as you began to kiss back, you tasted coffee on his lips. Typical of Shinsou, it was late at night and he was still drinking coffee. The thought made you smile and you wrapped your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. He cupped the back of your head, a soft sigh escaping him as he moved his lips expertly until you were breathless.

After a long moment, he pulled away. The both of you were panting, eyes lidded as you processed what just happened.

“Toshi…” you whispered, feeling euphoric after kissing him, “I don’t understand.”

He shook his head, cupping your cheek, “All you need to know...is that I love you too.”

You gaped at those words coming from his lips. Surging forward, you pressed your lips against his again. He smiled into the kiss, leaning further against you until you were forced to lay back against the mattress. His body was hovering above yours, held up by his elbows on either side of your head.

He wasted no time in touching your body, years of desperation finally culminating into this one moment. His hand slid beneath your shirt, pushing the hem up to expose the soft skin of your belly.  He paused at your ribs, unsure if you were okay with him going any further. But when you gripped his wrist and urged his hand up to cup your breast, he threw away those inhibitions. 

Thumbing your sensitive nipple, you keened as they hardened beneath his touch. He leaned down a bit more to press his lips against yours. 

You lost yourself against his lips, whimpering and grinding against nothing. Just the fact the man you’d loved for so long was there touching you after years of craving it had your panties soaked. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, breaking from the kiss to kiss down your body. 

You trembled beneath him, watching him with rapt attention as he kissed the exposed skin of your stomach and ribs. Sighing, you let him push your shirt over your head to discard off the side of the bed. He leaned forward, enveloping one of the pert buds in his hot mouth, tonguing at it until you were whining and begging him to give attention to the other one. He did so eagerly, providing a stimulating suck before finally pulling away. His lips were swollen and his cheeks were flushed, the very fact you made him that way was dizzying. 

“Wanna taste that perfect cunt too, baby,” he growled, voice losing the soft, sweetness it once held. 

“O-Okay,” you agreed easily, raising your hips so he could tug the last remaining articles off of your body. 

The second you were bare, his hands were pinning your thighs open. His eyes examined every inch of your pussy -- taking in the juices dripping from your clenching hole. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, using his thumbs to spread your folds apart, “so pretty too, god. Look at you...you’re perfect. Bet you’re so sweet…”

“Please Toshi…” you whimper, reaching down to tangle your fingers into his hair.

His eyes fluttered at the feeling, allowing you to pull him to your pussy where he eagerly ran his tongue flat between your spread folds. You gasped, eyes slamming shut as he paused to wrap his lips around your clit for just a split second. The teasing touch was addictive and you suddenly wanted more. 

Shinsou understood what it is you wanted and quickly dove back in for more. Circling his tongue around your clit, your back arched. You wanted to close your thighs against the stimulation but his strong hands kept your legs pinned open. 

He swirled his tongue quickly, moaning before enveloping the bud in his hot mouth. You tugged his hair, crying out his name as you felt a high approaching rapidly. He looked so good between your thighs, eating your cunt like you’d dreamed of for ages. 

Suddenly, he pulled away, licking his lips before sitting up.

“Fuck, tell me babygirl,” he breathed, “You gonna let me fuck this pretty cunt?” you nodded, reaching to push his shit up but he stopped you, looking you in the eyes, “Use your words. Tell me.”

“Yes, please fuck me Shinsou!” you begged.

He grinned, pressing a kiss against your lips before stripping himself of his clothes. 

You almost gasped at the sight of his cock. He was big; long and thick. Subconsciously, you clenched your thighs together in anticipation. 

“You ready?” he asked, scooting to sit between your spread legs. 

You tensed up as he prodded your entrance with the fat head of his cock. He realized how tense you were and ran his hand along your thigh to soothe you, “You good? You can back out anytime, darlin’.”

You swallowed thickly, feeling your cheeks heat up as you looked at him through your lashes, “I-It’s just...go slow?”

He frowned, brows drawn together before he backed away from you a bit, “Is this your first time, sweetheart?”

Licking your lips, you hesitated before nodding. Shinsou sighed, hanging his head to rest against your collarbone. You frowned, “I-Is that bad?” you asked. 

Truth was, you never wanted anyone but him. You never had a desire to have sex with anyone but him. You knew he was the one person you’d never regret being with. 

“No!” he sat up, eyes wide before wrapping his hand around the nape of his neck nervously, “I just wish you would have told me sooner...that was almost bad.”

“Why?” you asked,making him chuckle. He shook his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Well…” clearing his throat, he looked off to the side bashfully, “My dick’s not exactly the smallest around and since you’re a virgin you could do with...a lot more preparation, you know?”

Your cheeks were ablaze from the bluntness of his words. He didn’t waste another second in bringing his hand to your still wet pussy. 

He sighed, a smile lingering on his lips as he worked his middle finger into your tight hole. Humming, he bit his lip as he slipped his ring finger alongside it. You sighed, eyes fluttering at the mild stretch that came along with it. 

“Feel okay?” he asked softly, working the two fingers in and out of your hole. 

You nodded, “Feels good,” you breathed. 

Your eyes fell closed as he crooked his fingers upwards to touch that sweet spot on top. Your hips jumped at the sensation, ripping a moan from your swollen lips. He smirked, burying the digits deep, licking his lips at the way your juices gushed out from around them. 

With his other hand, he found your clit, circling the bud with his thumb as he worked his index finger into the mix. The added stimulation to your clit made your wall clench tightly and he grunted, imagining what it would feel like around his cock. 

“Please Toshi,” you begged, “I want you already.”

“Thank you’re ready?” he asked, although he already knew the answer. 

And he was right when you whimpered out a pathetic little, “Yes!”

He resumed the position from earlier, his tip pressed against your entrance. It was opened a bit from his three fingers but he knew it was still going to be a tight fit. 

He took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he began to sink into your cunt. You whimpered as your walls stretched around him, squeezing his hand. He bottomed out quickly, stilling to let you adjust to being stuffed so full of his thick cock. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“N-No…” you mumbled, “Just...feels weird.”

He chuckled, kissing your lips again. He could feel you squeezing around him, your cunt unused to having such a big cock inside. The fact he was your first, the one taking your virginity -- tainting your pure body was turning him on more than he ever thought it would. 

He couldn’t even lie and say he’d never taken a cherry before but with you it was different. He felt a sense of pride and possessiveness wash over him; you were his completely. You had given him your heart and your body. 

Burying his face in your neck, he pressed kisses against the sweet spot he easily found there. Grinding his hips against yours, he stirred your insides with his thick length until you were arching your hips to get more of the addictive pleasure only he could bring you. 

He pulled out halfway, slowly sinking his cock back inside with a groan.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, eyes glued to where your cunt was stretched around him, “Taking me so well, look at that.”

“Feels so good,” you whimpered, clutching the sheets beneath you in your fists.

“Yeah?” he grinned, pulling out so the tip remained only to surge forward and sink his cock into you in one long thrust. Immediately, your back arched and you let out an erotic moan that had his cock throbbing against your walls, “Fuck, my cocks almost too much for you but you’re bein’ such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Taking what I give you...fuck…”

His praise and dirty words went straight to your core. He set a steady pace, making sure to angle his hips up so he could hit your g-spot. The pleasure had your eyes rolling back and you cried out his name every so often, making his heart race. 

“Sound so pretty sayin’ my name…” he groaned, cupping your breasts in his hands as he fucked you, “Pussy’s so tight and wet...I can feel you dripping, you know that? Who would have thought such a pretty cunt could get so messy. But you only get this messy for me, right darlin’?”

“Only you!” you babbled, wrapping your arms around his neck to press your lips against his. He moaned into your mouth, reaching between your bodies to circle your clit, “Fuck! Toshi, y-you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Fuck,” he groaned, “Do it then, sweetheart. Go on, cum on my fucking cock.”

A few more thrusts and circles over your swollen bud had you falling over the edge. Your body trembled and arched beneath him, cunt spasming around him as he worked you dutifully through your orgasm. 

Once you came down, he pulled his hand from your clit and pulled out. You were panting, body limp and relaxed as you let him move you onto your hands and knees. Keeping your face buried in the pillow, you allowed him to maneuver you into the proper position. 

He pressed his hand down on the small of your back, “Arch your back for me, good girl.”

“Th-This is embarrassing, Toshi…” you whispered into the pillow. 

He hummed, gripping his cock to direct himself back into the sweet vice of your cunt, “No reason to be embarrassed, kitten. It’s just me...you can trust me.”

“I-I know...but still…” you whimpered, eyes fluttering as he sunk his cock deep inside. The position allowed him to reach a new depth. 

“Do you want to stop?” he asked softly, running his hand along your spin. 

You hesitated for a second, focusing on the pleasurable sensation of being filled so completely before shaking your head. He grinned, leaning down to kiss your shoulder blade, “Good girl.”

The praise went to your head and you suddenly had a desire to receive more. You wanted to be good for him -- be his good girl. 

You lifted your head from the pillow and cried out his name, fucking yourself back against his cock. He grinned, slapping your ass lighter than he usually would do it -- he wasn’t sure how you would take to it. When he felt you clench around him in response, he grinned. That was something worth looking into it seemed. 

“Toshi…” you whined, reaching back to grip at his hip.

He hummed, slowing ever so slightly, “What is it, kitten?”

“Please…” you whined, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment over what you desperately wanted to ask him.

“Please what?” he whispered, kissing your shoulder blade again, “Tell me what you need, baby.”

“C-Call me...y-your goog girl again…” you whispered, immediately burying your face in your pillow. 

He paused, eyes wide before another grin grew across his face. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you up until your back was pressed against his chest. You cried out, his cock stilling inside you as he pressed his lips against your ear.

“You like being praised huh?” he asked, chuckling when you nodded, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder. He enjoyed the fucked out look on your face, “Like being my good girl, hm? Such a pretty, sweet girl for me…”

You whimpered, walls clenching around his still cock, “I-I love you Toshi…”

He hummed, reaching down to find your clit. Circling over the bud, you keened, eyes fluttering as your cunt clenched tight around him, “I know you do, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, your walls squeezed, clamping down tight. He groaned, cursing under his breath as he felt your body seize up in your orgasm, trembling and gushing around his cock. He pressed his lips against your shoulder, looking down to where his length was buried completely inside. 

You began to rock yourself along his cock, your orgasm flying to new heights as he never stopped playing with your sensitive bud. 

Suddenly, he watched with wide eyes as your cum squirted out, soaking the bed and your thighs. 

“Shit,” he growled, providing a few quick slaps against your clit, making you squirt just a few more times, “What a good fucking girl you are. Look at the mess you made. You’re so perfect, I love you so much.”

Those words had you clenching once again. That finally sent him over the edge himself. He rocked into you, holding you tight against him. His cock throbbed, spitting hot cum into your sensitive cunt. 

He cupped your breasts, groaning in the throes of his orgasm as he pressed kisses against your shoulder, neck, and cheek. 

When he finally came down, he gently laid you on the bed, pulling his cock out. His cum gushed from your hole without his length to stop it. You cringed, the feeling unpleasant to say the least. 

He got out of bed to go to the bathroom intending to get a cloth to clean you with. 

When he was gone, you found yourself thinking about what just happened. One particular thought was on your mind and when he returned, you didn’t hesitate to voice it.

“W-We didn’t use a condom…” you mumbled. 

He hummed, “Were we supposed to? I thought you were on birth control.”

“I am...it’s just…” you frowned, clearing your throat as you watched him wiped your thighs and sensitive folds free of your mixed cum.

“What?” he sat beside you, fixing you with a steady gaze, urging you to confess your thoughts to him. 

“You were just...dating, you know...Aoi and…” you sighed, averting your gaze from him, “Other girls before.”

He chuckled, laying beside you, “What, you’re concerned I have something?”

“Well no...not necessarily…” you frowned as he cupped your cheek, making you look at him.

“If you must know…” he shrugged before continuing, “I always used a condom with them.”

“Really?” he nodded at your question, “Then...why with me?”

“Because you’re you,” he smiled, kissing your lips, pulling you to lay against his chest, “You’re the one for me, kitten. That’s all you need to worry about.”

Yes, Hitoshi Shinsou fell in love easily. But he never gave those girls his heart. He cried because he thought he could never have you. The truth was, you had always owned his heart. It had always been in your hands. 

[jimlingss]

Black Waltz [1/2]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 [Finale]

➜ Words: 13.2k

➜ Genres: 70% Fluff, 30% Angst, Butler!AU

➜ Summary: When your parents pass away in an accident, a family secret is revealed. The only person you can trust and rely on is your personal butler, Kim Taehyung.

The caskets are small.   You’re not sure why but you always imagined that they’d be bigger. The undertaker already reassured you thrice that the bodies of your parents fit perfectly. Perhaps they were always that small.   “Poor girl.” Someone murmurs in the corner, not realizing that you can hear above the discordant sobs. “She’s already such a weak child. How will she handle this?”   “How do you suppose?” a man replies in a sharp mutter. “She’s just become one of the richest people in Trulia overnight. Look at this entire estate. All thanks to her father’s watch business.”   “Will you have more delicacy?” she bites back in a whisper. “A man and woman just died.”   You don’t bother looking at them. You don't cry either.    Not a single tear sheds down your cheeks as you look through your netted veil to the closed coffins belonging to your parents. Even the gardener is sobbing into his hat, but you don’t.    Your expression remains stoic.   A man approaches, dark hair and darker suit. He bows his head towards the caskets and then turns to you standing by. You recognize him the few times you saw him in passing. He’s your father’s worker, Yoongi. “My condolences, Miss Y/N.”   “Thank you.”   “Your father was a great man. It was a privilege to work under his guidance. I’m sorry this happened.”   You nod and he takes that you don’t want to extend the conversation and leaves you be.    It was an unfortunate accident. More specifically, a railroad accident. It claimed the lives of many and that also included your parents coming home from a trip to Germany.   “Eugene!” Suddenly, Uncle Seokjin throws himself over the casket. A few distraught folks try to pull him back, but he continues to howl, “How could you leave your only brother like this!”    Aunt Marie cries louder into her handkerchief.   It’s noisy.   In the midst of the ruckus, the corner of your eye catches an older man with brunette hair. The wrinkles crease around his eyes with his sorrowful expression and he takes off his top hat as he approaches. You watch as he places a rose in front of your mother’s casket and then he turns to leave without addressing you.   “Oh, Y/N!” Your attention is ripped away by your hysterically sobbing uncle grabbing your hands. “Poor Y/N!”   Someone takes him away before you get the chance to shove him off.   //   Everyone gathers in the dining room not even a full day after the funeral.   The wallpaper is dark, black trim that matches the hardwood. The long table is mahogany and there’s an unnecessary golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling. You’ve always hated this room and its decorations, especially the heavy curtains that block out the sunlight.   “Y/N!” Your uncle draws out your name and smiles widely as he comes before you with open arms. He gives you a quick squeeze much to your dismay and then lets go. The middle-aged man searches your expression. “My favourite niece.”   “I’m your only niece.”   “Which makes you even more special to me.” His words are sweet. He shakes his head. “What did you ever do to deserve this?”   You wonder the same thing.   Aunt Marie clears her throat and Uncle Seokjin flounders. “Right, right, we should take our seats.”   Your eyes lift to your cousin who smiles at you, dressed in a navy frock coat with an ascot tie. “It’s been a while, Y/N. I didn’t think you’d notice but I was greeting guests at the funer—”   “I noticed.”   You cut Hoseok off mid-sentence with his mouth still open. Aunt Marie chastised him under her breath to sit down and at the same time, the family lawyer enters with his briefcase. He’s been working with your family before you were even born. You could feel his sincerity when he spoke at the memorial.   “Good evening everyone. Y/N.” Mr. Kim — Namjoon as your parents familiarly called him — nods at you in sympathetic acknowledgment and takes his place at the head of the table where your father once sat. He reaches for his briefcase and opens it up for a sealed envelope inside. “I never thought there would be a day like this. Most unfortunate indeed.”   “A heartbreaking tragedy,” Aunt Marie agrees.   “But no time like the present for us to fulfill their last wishes.” Mr. Kim slips out the crisp papers and then his eyes flicker up at you. You subtly motion to him that you’re ready for it to be read and he clears his throat.   Your relatives are sitting on the edge of the seats, hands clasped on the table in anticipation.   “I, Arden Eugene, resident in the City of Lennox, Country of Trulia, being of sound mind, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby revoking all prior wills and codicils made by me. I appoint my wife, Arden Hana, to inherit all my assets.”   The lawyer continues, “In the event where my wife is unable to inherit...all my assets, including the investments, savings and the estate, liquid and otherwise, I leave my daughter, Arden Y/N, in their entirety.”   Your aunt’s jaw ticks, your uncle has a face of disgust and your cousin’s jaw has dropped.   You’re not sure why they’re so offended. It’s not a surprise. This is what you expected.   That is until Mr. Kim adds the word— “temporarily.”   Your head turns. The lawyer’s mouth continues to move.   “Until the date and time when her half-sibling will be found.”    You’re not sure what happens first. The gasps echoing in your ears, Aunt Marie nearly falling off her seat in laughter, your uncle standing up from his spot, or your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as blood drains from your face. You feel ill, like you might throw up right on the table.   A half-sibling. Another child. There was another child all along.    “—to which ownership of all asserts will thereby be shifted onto them.”   “What is the meaning of this?!” Uncle Seokjin protests. “What child?!”   “I’m sorry, Mr. Arden. I only know as much as you do.” Mr. Kim’s eyes place on you before he resumes reading. “I give my daughter, Arden Y/N, a pocket watch.”   The amused snicker of your aunt is all too clear.   A small box is placed in front of you. It’s the size of your hand, a deep wine red. For a moment, you want to huck it on the floor, but with your breath held in your throat, you nudge the lid open. It’s a perfectly round contraption, the cover golden and perfectly polished, reflecting against the candlelight. You flip it open to find handles ticking away as seconds and minutes pass.   “To my brother, Seokjin, my sister, Marie, and her son, Hoseok, I wish them the very best in the rest of their lives.”   Aunt Marie scoffs. Uncle Seokjin collapses back onto his seat.   The will is finished being read and the paper is folded. The room is full of a tense silence as you stare at the watch. Mr. Kim clears his throat again. “As you are aware of the laws, Y/N, all assets are entitled to you temporarily. But as you have no husband to collect the inheritance, it makes things a bit more complicated. You may still live at this estate and continue the company, but you cannot alter it in any way. That includes liquidating, removing, expanding, or withdrawing. You do not have the jurisdiction to alter the company or any of the investments either.”   Everything is essentially frozen. They left you with nothing.   “Yes.” The corner of Aunt Marie’s lip curls and she sits back. “Even if you are twenty one, you need a husband to own land and wealth. Trulia’s quite old-fashioned, isn’t it?”   Trulia — a small country that bridges France and England together, cutting the English channel into half. You’ve lived here all your life, born and raised, and never hated it more.   “Y/N.” Hoseok breaks your train of thought and you look him in the eyes. Your expression remains impassive. “Did you know you had a sibling?”   You hate it all.   //   The bedroom is shrouded in darkness as you sit back in the armchair.    You’re loosely holding the cold, golden chain of the pocket watch, studying it as it swings back and forth. It’s like a clam, but without any engravings, designs or even ridges on the surface. It’s heavy, perfectly new and polished, the time precise. When both handles of the pocket watch come to twelve, the grandfather clock from downstairs chimes throughout the mansion.   Your other hand crumples into a fist and with a strangled cry in your throat, you hurl the pocket watch across the room with all your might. It clatters to the ground, ear-splitting.   A figure emerges from the shadows, leans down and picks it up with his white gloves.   “Madam, are you not well?”   “Don’t call me madam,” you snap at him.   Taehyung comes closer, his dark hair slicked back, dressed in the usual black tailcoat and trousers. His smile is tender. “You are the head of the household now.”   Arm propped up on the armrest, you press your hand to your forehead. “It makes me feel old.”   “Then I won’t, my lady. I apologize.” He places the pocket watch on the vanity table and comes to your side.   You look up at him, wondering if you look as bitter as you feel. “Even when they’re dead, they have to have the last laugh, Taehyung. They spared me nothing.” Your eyes sting painfully, the lump at the bottom of your throat aching. Anger has coloured your vision red. You’re so full of hate, but you wonder why most of all, it hurts. “I can’t believe my parents didn’t love me even after their death.”   Taehyung kneels and takes your hands that are crumpled hard enough that your nails sink into your skin. He earnestly gazes at you. “You have me. I’ll be with you until the end.”   He promises it rather recklessly. But he’s more than just your butler. More than just a worker in this house. He’s been a friend since childhood. The only one you can fully trust.   Taehyung’s expression softens even more and he reaches out. He hugs you, propping your chin on his shoulder, placing his arms around your back. “You can cry.”   You scoff. “You’re stepping over the line.”   “Then discipline me.”   You bite the inside of your cheek, vision becomes foggy as tears hang onto your lash line. “Why should I cry for those people? If...if anything, I should cry for my own circumstances.”   Taehyung smiles. “Cry then.”   For the first time, you let go. You sob into his shoulder, grasp his coat with tight fingers, allowing yourself to be at grief’s mercy. Wails choke out of your chest and the thick lump finally escapes your throat, leaving it raw and aching in a different way. The tears stain a path down from your welling eyes to your cheeks and then Taehyung’s shoulder like a chilling rainstorm.   It feels like minutes tick away until you’ve cried yourself to exhaustion.   By then, you’re so weak and you can barely open your swollen eyes. But Taehyung guides you to bed and pulls the covers. He tucks you in, making sure you’re warm. “Get some sleep.”   You nod and he extinguishes the flame in the oil lamp.    Sleep comes easier than you expect.   //   When dawn arrives, the light of the sun comes through the white curtains to cast against your eyes. You stir uncomfortably before your lids flutter open. The world is bleary in your fogged vision and your body is heavy. You don’t want to get up, but you have to.   “Good morning, mistress.” Taehyung enters, dressed in his black trousers and tailcoat with a white waistcoat underneath. His hair is pushed back in a windswept look. He sets down the golden tray balancing a water bowl and cloth. “Glad to see you’re already awake.”   “Couldn’t sleep more if I wanted to.” You round the bed and collect the water to wash your face before pressing the cloth to your skin.   Taehyung steps towards your wardrobe. “Would you like me to replace the curtains?”   “It’s fine. I don’t want to wear anything too restricting today.”   He hums. “Then will an aesthetic dress do? Green?”   “Is there a dark blue?”    Taehyung swiftly takes out a simple gown, cut loosely with a few frills at the neckline and a red, ribbon sash around the waist. The shade is a midnight blue and perfectly to your tastes as if he read your mind. It’s without any restrictive corset too. Heaven knows today is going to be suffocating enough, you don’t need to make it more difficult for yourself.   You stand in front of the three panel mirror folded into a nook and lift your arms up. Without batting a single lash or looking twice, Taehyung undresses you from the silk sleepwear and helps you into the camisole before draping the dress over your figure.   You sit at the vanity and he gently brushes out your hair. “Taehyung.”   “Yes, my lady?”   You look at him through the mirror. “Do you think I can do this?”   His eyes flicker up and he smiles. “Of course you can.”   “What if they don’t find me intimidating enough?”   “Then I’ll stand beside you and help you with that.”   What he says has you bursting out in laughter. You spin around in your seat, and Taehyung’s completely unsuspecting when you squeeze his cheeks together. His rounded eyes blink and his lips mimic a fish’s. It makes you grin. “You’re more of a puppy than a guard dog.”   But well, you suppose it’s not important what the truth is. The illusion is what matters most.   He pins half of your hair up and you barely powder your face before you’re leaving for the family meeting. On the way, you brace yourself, only temporarily interrupted by the gardener, Park Jimin, a man who’s been working on the estate for the past three years. He takes care of the garden well, better than your mother ever could. Her roses always withered. He, on the other hand, has quite the green thumb.   “Good morning, madam.” Jimin greets you merrily.   “Good morning, Jimin.” You slow in the entrance hall and Taehyung behind you does as well. “I hope you and the others are doing well. Thank you for still being here.”   The young male blushes. “We’re just doing our jobs, ma’am. You already gave us a whole week’s break which we’re more than thankful for. We just had to come back for the funeral to honour Mr. and Mrs. Arden. So there’s no need to worry about us.”   “I’m glad then.” Your smile eases. “Please continue, don’t let me stop you.”   He nods and goes on his way.   The moment Jimin’s gone, your expression hardens as you enter the main lounge area.   There your uncle, aunt, and cousin are seated around and you recognize your father’s worker, Yoongi as well. You’re not sure since when this house became a guest home where anyone can enter and loiter in as they please. You’ll have to have a word with Taehyung later.    “Y/N! My dear niece!” Uncle Seokjin’s loud and he stands from the armchair with an enormous smile that looks like it’s about to break his face. At that, everyone’s head swivels around.    Yoongi slowly rises from his seat as well.    But your uncle continues, “I hope you had a good sleep. I could barely get a wink thinking about your father and our happy days. Speaking of which, I was thinking about how empty this house will be with your parents gone. Isn’t it time for you to get married? You’ve been of age for a while. I happen to know this very kind young man from England. His name is Mark. I’d be happy to introduce—”   “Uncle Seokjin.” You stop him. “I’d rather not have you speak about my private affairs in front of a stranger.”   His pupils flicker to Yoongi and his mouth closes with a smile. “Right.”   You turn to said man and he nods his head in acknowledgment. “Would you like to have tea in the parlor?”   “No, this will only take a moment. I’m sure you’re already busy. My apologies for coming unannounced.”   “It’s not a problem. What is this about?”   “Your father’s company,” Yoongi says. “There is a client waiting for a shipment and since we closed we’ve been unable to finish the order. Would you like to refuse it?”   “No. It’s fine.” You hold in your sigh and press your finger against your forehead for a moment. Then, you come to a decision. “You may continue and run business as usual. You may act as the temporary lead, Min Yoongi.”   At the announcement, Hoseok rushes upwards with his jaw gone slack. “I could!” Heads turn towards him. “I-If you need me to! I could take over! T-Temporarily, of course!”   Your eyes narrow into your cousin, your expression cold. “There’s no need, Hoseok. I’m sure Mr. Min here will already have his hands full. There'll be no time to properly train you and no way you could take over.”   “But—!”   You ignore him to address your father’s right hand. You’re not sure if this is the right decision, but Yoongi comes across as sensible and rational. He doesn’t seem to have any malicious intention or ulterior motives either. At least your father trusted him, so you will too. “I’ll take a look at the finances and figure out the details soon enough of where the company will move forward from now on. But for now, I will entrust you to it. Please proceed as you normally would.”   Yoongi nods. “Thank you, Miss Y/N.”   You shift on your feet and look to your butler whose height towers your own. “Taehyung, can you please see Mr. Min out?”   He puts his gloved hand over his heart and bows. “Certainly.”   The two men leave the room while your cousin crosses his arms and drops back down into the sofa with a displeased face.   Aunt Marie’s eyes are narrowed in on you and she sighs, shaking her head. She comments, “You’re quite close with that butler of yours, Y/N. A bit too close, if you ask me.”   Your brow cocks. “You don’t have any authority in this household to make such comments, Aunt Marie.”   “I am merely looking out for you, Y/N,” she quips with an underlying sharpness to it. “You never know what rumours can get out and they can get quite nasty. It wouldn’t do you any good to be in a scandal. It’s best if you weren’t so close to the such lowly—”   “I choose who I want to affiliate myself with.” Your voice booms throughout the room, unknowing to how Taehyung’s already returned and that he’s standing just outside of the room. “Taehyung is my most trusted confidant. To insult my personal aid is to insult my choices and thereby, me. From now on, I will not take such things lightly.”   Aunt Marie shuffles back with a cough and the room’s swept into an uncomfortable silence.   Taehyung smiles to himself and notices a timid maid rolling a cart down the hall towards the room. He takes over and dismisses her to which she’s grateful for, knowing the room is tense. But Taehyung is unaffected as he enters with an exaggeratedly cordial expression. He places down a cake stand of pastries on the table, then the teacups.   “There, there. Let’s not get so upset in the morning.” Your uncle sits down and you find your place in front of the fireplace and the imposing family portrait above the mantle. In the meanwhile, Taehyung pours the tea with one hand in front of him. It’s earl grey, your favourite.   You sip it warmly while your expression remains stoic.   Uncle Seokjin clears his throat. “Your cousin, aunt and I have been discussing, Y/N—”   “And?”   He smiles. “We think it’s best if we...join forces.”   The tea is no longer pleasant on your palate, so you set it down on the porcelain saucer. “How so?”   “Well….”   “We don’t know who this half sibling of yours is, Y/N,” your aunt cuts to the chase. “Who knows who they could be or what they would want with us! It is simply outrageous that an outsider could come and collect everything that your parents have worked so hard for and take everything away. Your father clearly had some misunderstandings when he gave us nothing and you so little. I believe he must not have been well when he wrote that will. There must be some mistake.”   Uncle Seokjin nods and Hoseok finds the opportunity to jump in. “I have a friend who’s working in law. There must be ways we can challenge the will or at least find a way to claim back what should be rightfully ours!”   ‘Rightfully ours’.   You want to laugh. “So you want to sneak the money away?”   “You shouldn’t put it that way.” Your uncle laughs heartily. “It’s more like making a wrong a right!”   “Yes!” Hoseok enthusiastically nods. “We can’t just let someone else steal it, Y/N! What if tomorrow someone comes knocking on the door claiming to be your brother or sister, and they want to take everything away?”   Aunt Marie offers a smile. “It’s best if we work together on this matter.”    Taehyung steps behind you, shadowing your form as your relatives look at you expectedly. They have a point, but you’re not at all tempted by their most generous offer. “No.”   “Pardon?”   “I said no.” Your arms cross and you sit back. “Everything is already in my name, the estate, the investments, the company, albeit temporarily, but I’ll figure out what is to come on my own.”   Hoseok’s mouth draws open. Your uncle is unable to muster a rebuttal.    You scoff, rolling your eyes as if their very proposition is ridiculous. It’s too easy to play the villain — and it’s the only way you know how to protect yourself. “And why should I have to accept your help and have to split up my parents’ wealth when I can take it all for myself.”   “Why you!” Aunt Marie stands up, face reddened. “Ingrate!”   Her hand raises, arm extending back. But before she can slap you like she wants and knock your head to the side, Taehyung snatches her wrist. He’s faster than anyone can blink and he clutches her back, glare boring into her skin.   Her teeth grit and she rips back her hand to her chest.   You rise to your feet, eyes placed at the god awful antique cabinet on the other side of the room. “If that’s all everyone wants to say, then you can leave now. Thank you for coming to the funeral but from now on, none of you have permission to enter this estate until I announce otherwise.”   Your aunt scoffs and with her remaining pride, she stomps out. Hoseok’s brows are knitted together at a loss while your uncle is already trying to reason with you. But you leave through the doorway and allow Taehyung to take care of the rest.   //   The streets are full in the afternoon bustle — hooves clacking as horses pull the street car, ladies with parasols giggling as they cross, shouting coming from the tenement windows above, wheels of the carriages rolling along the dirt. It’s the symphony of the city. But he leaves it all behind for a short carriage ride away.   It’s a short uphill climb on foot that follows, but he swiftly gets to the magnificent mansion on a stretch of green behind black gates. It’s quaint here.   A girl in a maid ensemble scurries over and opens up the gates for him. “Right this way.”   The man is led up the path and he removes his top hat as he enters.   The manor is darker on the inside, the wallpaper a deep shade, black trim matching the hardwood. He knows every inch of this place is ridden with wealth, from the chandeliers, the ornate carpet underneath his feet to the glass cabinets full of antiques. It’s old money that will last for centuries.   But he doesn’t get to admire it for too long. A taller man with slicked back hair wearing a black tailcoat approaches. “If you’d follow me, sir.”   He nods and silently shadows the butler to the west wing. They twist down the corridor before turning a left to two large doors. The butler opens them and he hesitantly enters after.   There’s a figure behind the desk at the very back wall, an inked pen in her hand. He muses that the lady looks much too young to be residing so deep inside of this mansion surrounded in papers in the low lighting. She might be even younger than himself.   “Taehyung, stay.” You mutter out of the corner of your mouth before he can leave.   The doors shut and you finally look up as Taehyung takes his place beside you.   “You are Detective Jeon?”   He has brunette hair and brightened doe eyes, rather boyish looks overall. But you know better than to underestimate anyone simply based on appearances.   “Yes, ma’am. I am Jeon Jungkook from the Bennett Detective Agency.” He comes up to you with his briefcase in hand and gingerly places a business card on the desk. “I believe you contacted me for a private investigation.”   “Yes. I did.” You stand, going to the seating area and he follows suit. “Would you like tea?”   “No, ma’am. I’m fine, but thank you very much.”   You nod, noticing how Detective Jeon’s eyes flicker to Taehyung who comes to pour your cup.   He finally asks, “How may I be of service?”   You take a sip, savouring the flavour on your palate before placing the floral porcelain cup down. Your expression is indifferent as you sit back. “As you may have heard, my father and mother recently passed away in a railway accident.”   “I read it from the newspaper. My condolences. Your father was a very charitable man and did a lot for Trulia.”   “Yes, well, they left behind a will and revealed that I happen to have a half-sibling that is to inherit this estate.” It goes silent. A pin could drop in the room and echo. You inhale a breath and continue, “I want you to find this sibling of mine and tell me who they are, where they are, and what they’re doing. If you can do it, I’ll pay you a generous sum. However much you want. However long it takes.”   Detective Jeon nods. He doesn’t seem too surprised or curious. You suppose he must be used to this sort of thing in his line of work.   It was through your connections that you found him. He’s an upcoming private detective, but what he lacks in experience, he makes up in tenacity and foresight. He’s the best that Trulia has.   “Do you have any leads?”   You hum. It’s remarkable he asks that. You’ve been thinking about it — picking apart every single memory, all instances there could have been a hint, each time you could have been blinded to such a secret. “I don’t have any leads, but I have suspicions.”   The detective leans in closer, doe eyes placed on yours.   “I believe my sibling may be older than me and I believe contrary to any initial hunches, it may be my mother’s child.” Maybe your father knew and something had happened. Maybe he was ridden with guilt and that’s why he decided to give everything to your sibling.    “I remember, years ago, my mother came in one drunken night and she told me about her previous lover. She was supposed to marry him and they even ran away together, but my grandparents found them and she was forced to marry my father. It’s possible that she may have had a child with him before I was born. And it may be possible he came to the funeral.”   Detective Jeon takes out his notepad and begins scribbling. He bobs his head and you inhale a staggering breath as you continue to talk. You never thought you would have to divulge into your parents’ secrets after their death, that you would have to reveal all you know to a stranger. But you have to do what it takes if you want to find this person before your aunt and uncle do.   “I saw a man about your height. He looked old, about fifty or so. He put a rose at my mother’s casket and left without speaking to me. I have never seen him before in my life.”   “Did you see anything else about him?”   “Nothing that would be helpful. He had brown hair, but he was wearing black as everyone else was. He left before I could get to him.”   “Did your mother ever tell you anything else? Where they ran away to? What they were planning to do afterwards?”   “No. She only ever spoke to me about it on that one occasion.” Frankly, you’re not sure if you want to know, but you push past the thought. Detective Jeon notes it and something prickles in your mind. “If you can, I want you to also look into Park Jimin as well.”   His eyes lift off his paper.   “He’s a gardener that works at this estate,” you tell him. “He’s always been close to my mother.”   And unusually so. She never cared much for the help, but you’ve seen them walking together before and conversing on numerous occasions.   “I’ll see what I can do for you.” The detective smiles and once the conversation concludes, he takes his briefcase.    “Oh and Detective Jeon.” Your voice stops him on his way out and he turns. “It would be best if no one finds out about this, namely my relatives. They can be quite...nosy.”   He looks at you and smiles. “Understood.”   Taehyung sees him out and you take a moment to recline back into the armchair, gandering at the many bookcases lining the walls. You never thought you would one day sit in your father’s study like this. He was in here more often than any other room and somehow, it always seemed so big when you were a child.    Taehyung comes back within minutes and you can tell by the expression on his face that he has questions.   The corner of your mouth tugs and you languidly bat your hand. “Ask away.”   “What are you planning to do when you find them?”   “I’ll kill them, of course.”   You get onto your feet, slowly rounding the desk. There’s a glass paperweight on the surface and you pick it up to fiddle with it. There’s a floral print inside and it catches the light no matter what direction you turn it to. You gave this to your father for his birthday one year.   “I can’t return to being that naive person like you hope I will, Taehyung.”   You’re not children anymore. As much as you wish, you can’t go back to that simple time.   “I know.”   You twist on your heel, looking him straight into his eyes. “Then will you help me?”   He closes the distance in two strides and leans down to take your other hand. His plush lips kiss against your knuckles and he swears his loyalty yet again, “I’ll do anything for you, mistress.”   //   The next afternoon, you gather the entire estate’s servants together — the cooks, kitchen workers, maids and footmen. They look nervous at the sudden impromptu gathering, glancing at one another and quietly murmuring.   You clear your throat loudly and their attention is taken.   “As you all know, recently my father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Arden, have passed away. And I have become the new head of household. You have done a well enough job to be here and your services are much appreciated. For those who came to give their condolences at the memorial, it is something I will not forget. However, your loyalties must belong to me, not to my late parents.”    There are worried glimpses exchanged and you begin to pace in front of them. “As I am now the lady of the Arden estate, I would like to begin anew.”   You can’t afford to feed so many mouths, considering all the wealth is frozen. You’ll be paying with what you personally have until you can find a solution with Mr. Kim. Not to mention, you’re not sure who can be trusted, who your uncle and aunt have already persuaded. The last thing you need is extra eyes and ears in this house.   “From now on, Taehyung will be the manager of this household. He will see to it that the household will still function. If you have any questions, ask him. If you have any concerns, then ask him. He will come to me with whatever he cannot solve.”   “Few of you will stay and I thank the rest for serving this house for so long. I will make sure your severance pay is generous enough until you will be able to find work elsewhere. If your name is called, you may stay.”   Taehyung, standing behind you, begins reading from the list. One of the three names called is none other than Jimin himself.   The gardener smiles out of relief, eyes crinkled into half-moons. “Thank you, madam.”   You nod and once it’s done, you leave for the study as Taehyung takes care of the rest. You don’t want to stay around to see disheartened expressions or hear pleas to stay. So you’re resigned to watch out of the upper windows instead.   You’ve allowed them a few days to leave, but some are already taking their exit with their belongings with them, tearfully looking back at the mansion. It’s difficult but it needs to be done.   “My lady…”   You hear Taehyung come from behind you. You shift away from the window. “You’ll help me look for new help?”   “Of course.”   “Do you think four maids and one cook will suffice?” You count on your fingers. There’s already Jimin taking care of the gardens, you kept one maid so he’ll only have to hire three, and there’s a trustworthy kitchen maid too. It’s not like you need that many hands to take care of the estate. “Or will you need more help?”   “That’ll be fine.” The edge of Taehyung’s mouth pulls. “I could technically do it all, if you’d like.”   “And have you fainting on me from exhaustion?” You notice lint on his coat tail, so you come up to him and gently dust off his shoulder. “I think not.”   Taehyung’s sly smile tugs. “Do you consider me delicate?”   “No. But I am,” you clarify, looking up at the man. “If you’re not here twenty four seven attending to me, then what would be the point of having you around?” You brush past him, mumbling, “Can’t have you in the kitchen when you’re supposed to be by my side.”   The man stifles back a laugh to himself, yet his grin is all too evident. “Yes, madam.”   You glare at him over your shoulder, but it reminds you, “Tell the new help not to call me madam. You know I don’t like it.”   He puts his hand over his heart and bows exaggeratedly. “Yes, young mistress.”   You scoff. The title is not that much different and he knows it too. He always knows how to be cheeky, but you let it go because he’s Taehyung. It’s not like you can ever be upset with him for long.    He’s already won before the game’s begun.   //   A few days later, there’s a knock at your door.   It’s unusual. Taehyung never knocks and your suspicions are confirmed when an unfamiliar girl is sticking her nose into the room. “Umm...pardon me.”   It’s an unfamiliar girl in a maid ensemble, a black dress with white trim and a ruffled apron with a headpiece. Her hair is dark and shiny, features sharp. You assume she must be one of the new ones. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find Butler Kim, I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Kim, the lawyer— I think, is in the parlor. He instructed me to tell you that he’s brought it.”   You nod and get up. But you stop for a second and come eye to eye with the girl. “What’s your name?”   “Jane.” She smiles to herself as if she’s happy you’ve made a note of it.   “If you could clear the teacup from the table.”   “Oh! Certainly!” She rushes over and you don’t linger.    True to what’s been told, the middle-aged lawyer is sitting in his chair and he staggers up as you come into the room. “It’s good to see you well, Y/N, and that you’ve taken charge of this estate so well.”   “Thank you.” You motion to the armchair. “Please, sit.”   “I brought your parent’s business expense reports as you asked.” Mr. Kim takes it from his briefcase and hands you the thick folder after settling down. “I didn’t think I would have it until I remembered there was a box in my office closet meant for this sort of thing. My office ended up branching out and opening a professional accounting firm a year ago, you see, so we no longer do bookkeeping.”   You flip open to find your father’s writing, then pages of Mr Kim’s. The reports match up with what he says. It stops a year ago. You might need to get into contact with Yoongi to find the more recent expense documents.   “Thank you for this. It will be very helpful to me.”   The lawyer nods. “Anytime, child. Now about what you talked to me about last time….”   “Yes, how is that coming along?”   He sharply inhales. “As I suspected, it will be difficult to challenge the will in court, Y/N. It hasn’t been done before and it may be costly. For now, my first submission is still in process, so we’ll have to see if we can even speak to a judge. I’ll let you know how that comes along.”   You’re grateful he’s still of help to you. He's older than your father is, but you suppose he must enjoy his line of work to not retire at this age. “Mr. Kim, if I may ask a question. Were...you aware that I had a sibling?”   The man smiles sadly. “Unfortunately, I was not. The will was sealed and I was simply entrusted to read it to you all. It took me by surprise as much as it did for you.”   If you didn’t know, the family lawyer wouldn’t either.    You wonder how many other well-kept secrets there are in your family.   That night, you look over the documents while burning the midnight oil. As usual Taehyung insists that you head to bed when the grandfather clock chimes past twelve, but after you tell him to go retire first, he stays silent beside you.    Taehyung’s too stubborn sometimes, but you don’t tell him his company is pleasant to have.   “Huh.”   “What’s the matter?”   “I didn’t know my father donated to St. Andale Orphanage.” You squint, reading the barely legible writing. You don’t remember that happening or it being posted in the newspaper.   “It must’ve been done anonymously,” Taehyung comments and you make a noise in agreeance. But it’s strange. Your father always liked to have his name on donations so that people would know and it would be written in the newspaper. It’s not like him to go quiet and he gave quite generously too.   “I’d like to go to the orphanage tomorrow.” You look up at Taehyung. “In the morning.”   “I’ll arrange that for you,” he says with a smile.   You close the books. “I’d like that man to join me as well. My father’s worker, Min Yoongi.”   At that, Taehyung’s brow quirks. “For?”   “He was close to my father, right? He might know something I don’t.”   //   The orphanage is a worn brick on the south side of the city in the poorer area, yet it somehow looks to be holding up well. It’s unlike the other buildings around that’s crumbling. You wonder if it’s your father’s doing that made this place half-decent.   You can hear the laughter of children in the plot of grass fenced in. You watch them at the distance while strolling the perimeter with Taehyung to your left and Yoongi to your right.   “It is quite cloudy today.”   “It looks like winter is coming soon.” Yoongi looks at you. “If you’re cold, we could go inside.”   “No, it’s quite alright. I don’t get to enjoy the cold weather often and it can be nice.” You turn with a small smile. “I might be like my father in that way.”   “Yes, I remember he told me he quite enjoyed the snow.” His eyes gloss over, reminiscent. “Your father was a very respectable man.”   “He was a good businessman and an even less attentive father,” you hum and feel Yoongi’s gaze on your profile, but he doesn’t get a chance to reply. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but did my father ever speak about his private life, Mr. Min?”   “Yoongi is fine. But no, not frequently at least. I only remember he once told me about flowers he was going to get for his wife before he headed home and I remember he spoke about you a few times.”   “Me?”   “Yes.” Yoongi offers a polite smile. “He told me that you were quite talented in your personal studies.”   You take a glance at him. There’s not a single trace on his expression that lets you know he’s lying or exaggerating, but you still find it hard to believe. “In his will, he gave me a pocket watch. I was hoping you’d know more about it. It’s gold and without any designs or engravings—”   “Gold?” Yoongi gives you a peculiar expression. “The company doesn’t make gold pocket watches.”   “Pardon?”   He explains, “We found that the profits weren’t worth the costs, so what’s used is silver, bronze, ceramic or even glass. In the third collection, there were some gold watches, but you said there weren’t any designs or engravings on it?”   “There’s nothing.”   The corner of the man's mouth pulls. “Mr. Arden must have personally handcrafted it for you then.”   Your brows furrow. You’re not sure how you feel upon hearing that, so you cast a glimpse to Taehyung who’s been quietly listening and he smiles at you. Yoongi clears his throat a moment after. “I wasn’t planning on telling you this, Miss Y/N, but considering it’s about your family, I think you have a right to know.”   Your head turns over in alarm. “What is it?”   “Your cousin, I believe, Hoseok. He’s been….showing up to the company often. He’s been wanting to book a meeting with me for a week now and he waits until I’m done working to try to speak to me. I suspect he wants to take over the business.”   You’re not surprised. “I’m receiving that kind of pressure in regards to the wealth and estate, Yoongi, and a hundred times worse. I think you have it in you to handle my overbearing cousin.”   Yoongi laughs from his chest as if he already figured you didn’t have any real solution. But based on your answer, it’s allowing him to do whatever he wants to that cousin of yours.    A few minutes pass before an older woman emerges to the field. “Children! Children! It’s time for lunch! Come along now!”   Another woman comes to invite you inside, so you follow after them into a room where they’re serving soup and loaves of bread. You watch children as old as fifteen to as young as three line up one after another. It’s both sad and heartwarming to see so many sparkling eyes in hunger-pane frames.    “Today’s food was given to us by Miss Arden and Mr. Min, can everyone give a big thank you?”   There’s a chorus of ‘thank you’s throughout the room and toothless grins from boys and girls.   When a woman struggles with carrying a box inside, Taehyung comes to help and then Yoongi. They’re supplies that you donated out of your own pocket, clothing and some blankets — it’s not much but still better than nothing.   “I want more!”   A pitched voice of a four year old boy in drab clothes knocks you out of your train of thought and you shift towards him. His friend adamantly shakes his head.   “No! ‘Member what Sister Emmy said? You only get one!”   You step forward, lips parting but before a single word can escape—   “Here you go.” An older girl with soft features and her hair pulled back in a frayed ribbon has spun around with an extended arm. Her loaf of bread is in hand. The boy blinks owlishly at her and she beams. “You can have it.”   “Thank you!” He takes it and the two boys run away.   “That was very kind of you,” you speak up and she turns around, startled that someone saw. You smile at her, lowering yourself to match her height. “You can have more bread. There should be enough for the next few days.”   Her eyes light up. “Really?”   You don’t like children much, but this girl seems to be intelligent and mature for her age. “What’s your name?”   “Rose, ma’am.” She bows her head awkwardly, rather well-mannered. “Thank you for the food.”   “I’m happy to help when I can. Can I ask how old you are?”   She counts on her fingers for a moment. “I believe twelve, ma’am, but I’m not sure.” As you frown, she quickly explains, “My mother died when I was young and I’ve never met my father, so I don’t know for certain how old I am….”   Her voice becomes quieter and quieter as it goes on and you realize she’s ashamed.   “That’s quite alright. I don’t have parents anymore either.” You muster a smile and the corner of her own mouth tugs. It’s pleasant to talk to someone who doesn’t know you, someone who doesn’t have any ulterior motives. “What do you like to do, Rose?”   “I don’t do much. But I like to cook! And churn butter. I also like collecting eggs and making milk.”   You hum. “How would you like to come back with me and work at the house?”   Her eyes open wide, irises practically glistening from the afternoon sunlight coming through the windows.   You’re normally not so impulsive, but you have a feeling she’s wasted here in the orphanage where she’ll have to work in a factory soon or get married by fifteen. Your mother always warned you to pick and choose the people around you carefully, and this girl seems trustworthy. Or at least, you can see capability.   Taehyung was even younger than she was when he entered the house for the first time. He must’ve been six or seven. His dad worked for the household and so did his dad’s dad — a whole lineage that made it inevitable that Taehyung would follow too.   Rose comes home with you three hours later.   You take it that this kind of affair customarily doesn’t happen so quickly judging by the head lady there being overwhelmed by the generous offer of taking the girl. But the process was most likely sped up considering your well-known status and Rose’s enthusiasm at the promise of a private room, food each day, and a high pay at the end of every month. She was more than happy and practically begging the woman she knew well to let her go. And the woman was happy too — even thanking you for giving her a home.   You’re not sure if it’s much of a home. But it’s yours.   “This is...enormous.” Rose gasps as her eyes lay upon the manor, lugging her small case of belongings by her side. “I-I mean, thank you, ma’am. I will work very hard!”   Your lips tickle into a small smile. “I’m glad.” The three of you enter and she gawks at the place. “Taehyung will show you where you’ll stay in the maid’s quarters and what will be expected of you. I’ll give you time to settle yourself, so don’t worry about anything for now.”   “Thank you, ma’am!”   “It’s right this way.” He guides and she tottles after him. You sigh softly with a smile as you watch the pair. He was amused when you told him that you wanted to take her home and he followed your instructions without much protest. Hopefully Taehyung will let her know that you’re not keen on being called ma’am or madam.   You’re about to retire to your room, but you’re stopped on your way by Jane.    She fiddles with her fingers nervously. “Miss, um, there’s, uh…”   “What is it?”   “There’s a guest in the parlor. He came about an hour or two ago and he insisted on staying until you came home.”   You hold in your sigh, wondering why it’s so hard to take a rest these days. “From now on, do not allow anyone inside the house when I am not here unless said otherwise.”   She flinches at your tone and dips her head. “Yes, my lady.”   You make your way to the room to find out who this uninvited guest is, and your brows furrowed in confusion when you see the backside of an unfamiliar man. He’s dressed in a sack coat with a matching waistcoat and black trousers. He must hear your footsteps since he turns around and instantly gets up, jaw gone slack.   “You must be Y/N,” he murmurs in awe. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”   The man comes to you and takes the back of your hand, placing a kiss against your knuckles. You eye him the entire time. “And you are…?”   “Oh, I apologize, I hadn’t realized I didn’t introduce myself.” He takes off his top hat and presses it to his chest. “I am Mark Carter. I believe your uncle may have spoken about me previously.”   You vaguely remember something about meeting his friend’s son, but you can’t quite pinpoint the details. Your expression remains stoic and unimpressed. “Is that so?”   “It’s an honour to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”   You guessed this would have happened, but you didn’t know it would come so soon. Being the head of the Arden Household and unmarried at that, it’s only natural that others will come after you.    It would be wise of you to consider it as well — the only way you can collect the temporary inheritance is through your husband. But as silly and naive as it might be, you want to marry for love and not convenience. And it’s the one thing you won’t allow yourself to give up on.   “Like what?”   “Pardon?”   “What have you heard about me?”   Mark clears his throat. “Well, I have heard that you are as intelligent as your father and as beautiful as your mother, no less than a red rose blossoming in the morning dew of spring. And I must say, those rumours do not do you justice, Miss Y/N. You far exceed any poetry that could possibly be waxed.”   The corner of your mouth curls in amusement. Admittedly, it’s nice to hear such bold and blatant compliments once in a while, even if they are exaggerated and likely crafted by your uncle. “While I am wholly flattered, Mr. Carter, is this what you came here to tell me?”   The man’s posture straightens. “I came to ask permission to court you.”   You nearly choke on your own spit. You’re taken aback at the man’s shamelessness, not sure if he’s dimwitted or simply brave. “Meaning?”   “I would like to send you letters every so often if you grant me permission and perhaps if you’d be inclined to take strolls with me.”   You’re not sure how to answer or what to say, but you’re starting to feel your impassive expression crumble. You muse it’s impressive your uncle found someone as overbearing and insistent as he is. “Can I ask why you want to send me letters? We’ve never met before.”   “Actually, we have,” he says and blinks. “At your father’s charity function two years ago.”   You scour your mind, but you can’t recall. Every charity function you attended, you just remember sneaking out food for Taehyung and sitting together outside looking at the stars.    Mark reads your expression as he realizes that you can’t remember and his face falls. “It hurts me that you can’t remember the encounter but no matter.” He suddenly takes your hands and you lean back to create more distance. “If you let me, Miss Y/N, I promise you that you will not be disappointed.”   “Mr. Carter—”   “I have not been able to forget you since that night.” You wonder why he didn’t look for you sooner then if he felt so passionately about an encounter you can’t even remember. But before you can ask, he comes closer to you, forcing you to take a step back. “If you give me a chance, I will grant your every wish.”   He’s crowding you, intruding in your space, larger than you are.   Your mouth parts, trying to utter out a word, but it’s not necessary. A looming shadow comes over Mark, draping him away from the light.    It’s Taehyung with a menacing expression — his lips drawn together, eyes practically burning holes. He grabs the back of the man’s coat collar and yanks him away from you, finally giving you space to breathe. “Please do not lay a hand on her ladyship, good sir.”   “W-Who’re you?!” Mark looks between you and Taehyung as if expecting you’ll tell him to leave him be. But you don’t move whatsoever.   Your butler offers the man a stiff smile that has your own mouth curling upwards. “Uninvited guests are no longer permitted in the Arden estate. The maid that you let in was inexperienced. A mistake like that will never happen again. So unfortunately, you will have to leave now until you receive a proper invitation.”   “Wait!”   You stifle back a laugh when Taehyung physically picks him up, nearly throwing him over his shoulder.   The man struggles and his cries echo throughout the manor as he’s taken away, “Put me down! Stop! You idiot! You’ll hear from my father about this! How dare you!”   Taehyung throws him out of the estate and you’re finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.   When he comes back, he dusts off his hands with a more pleased expression. “What would you like for dinner, mistress?”   //   The next time someone visits, it’s not uninvited.   “Who are you?” Jane has stopped in the middle of her path, duster in hand and scrutinizing the doe-eyed male in the foyer. His brow lifts at the girl, but before he can come up with an answer, Taehyung appears from the corridor.   “Right this way, sir.”   The man in his coat nods and walks away, yet the maid is still curious. Her eyes follow the stranger’s form and she murmurs to Taehyung, “But who is he?”   “Her lady’s affairs don’t affect you,” he coldly deadpans. “It would be better to attend to your duties than ask questions.”   “M-My apologies, Butler Kim.” Jane dips her head and turns around, but she still steals a glance over her shoulder with a pout and a huff escaping through her nose.   Taehyung comes inside the study to find you and Detective Jeon going through what he’s found.   “I looked into Park Jimin like you asked me to.”   “What did you find?”   Detective Jeon flips open copies of documents. “He was born and raised right here in Lennox, never stepped foot outside of Trulia. His parents are immigrants from the East, still married and living together on the West side of the city in a tenement. His father worked in a landscaping company and his brother, three years older than he is, is a wagon craftsman.”   You go through the papers and sigh after a moment. It doesn’t seem like he’s the one you’re looking for. Well, you suppose you’ve ruled out at least one possibility.   “He’s as boring as they get,” the detective says. “But I did find something...peculiar.”   “What is it?”   “That man you wanted me to search for, the one who came to the funeral, I think I might have found where he is.” Detective Jeon hands you another worn folder from his briefcase and you eagerly untie the string to look at the pages inside.   “An intern at your father’s company actually spoke to him briefly and I found the inn he was staying at in Lennox. Spoke to the lady there and went to the train station. I have a connection with someone who manages the books and they found a train ticket. There’s more to it, but I won’t bore you.”   His name is Arthur Kahl. There are small details of him written, how he’s in his fifties, where he lives and a drawing of him sits amongst the documents. Your brows furrow. This is him — there’s no doubt about it.   “He’s an artisan. A woodworker,” Detective Jeon tells you. “Lives in France, in a town called Colmar, but he grew up here in Lennox.”   Your eyes flicker up to Taehyung and then the detective. “Thank you for this.”   He offers a smile. “It’s all in a day's work.”    Shortly after, Detective Jeon is escorted out by the butler. His eyes are perceptive but his senses are even more keen. He takes a glance at the taller man. “Your name is Kim Taehyung, right?”   Taehyung’s brow quirks. “I think you already know the answer to that.”   Detective Jeon boyishly smiles. “Is it alright if I ask a question? It might be intrusive.”   “Then don’t ask.”   “But see, I’m much too curious.” His steps slow while the two men come outside where it’s harder to eavesdrop. They stop on the front path of the manor leading towards the gates. “It might be the reason why I ended up in this line of work. Can’t give up on something once it’s in my head. I just have to know.”    There’s a pause. Then, he doesn’t hesitate any longer. “Do you perhaps fancy Miss Y/N?”   Detective Jeon’s doe eyes sparkle in the sunlight.   It’s a subtlety that can only be noticed through careful observation.   But he’s seen it — through the way you allow the butler to stay in every private conversation divulging the secret details of your family. How he always knows what you want without you needing to speak a single word. You’re in rhythm with one another and always taking glances when the other person isn’t looking.    Jungkook has seen many things. But never a master and servant so close to each other.   “That is an intrusive question.” Taehyung’s expression remains impassive. “My devotion goes beyond such kinds of frivolous and fickle emotions.”   His mouth quirks. “Why don’t you do anything about it then?”   “It’s not my place. I merely grant her wishes and fulfill my necessary duties.”   “So you’re holding yourself back on purpose?”   “That’s enough questions.” Butler Kim continues walking. “You’re a detective. If you’re that curious, I’m sure you can figure it out.”   “You’re right.” Detective Jeon grins, led out the gates, yet he turns around one last time. “But if you’re willing to do anything for your mistress, would you kill for her?”   His expression hardens while Jungkook flashes another smile. It’s not the kind of question that is waiting for an answer, so the other merely walks off, down the path and away from the estate.    //   You’ve only ever left Trulia twice in your life.   Once on a family outing when you were five or six and another time for just a few days when you were accompanying your father on a business trip. You’ve never had the chance to see much outside of this country and it’s a wish that you never spoke to anyone before but Taehyung.   There was simply never a chance for you to go. And while you expected your next journey out of Trulia would be an adventure and perhaps seeing new sights, you suppose this is a good excuse as well.   “Can you please pack another dress? I don’t want to run out when I’m there.”   Rose enthusiastically nods and goes to your wardrobe to pick another gown. While Taehyung is the one who would ever pack your suitcases, you don’t want to rely on him too much. He was already preparing the rest of the things for the trip and Rose seemed more than happy to help.   “The blue one will be fine.”   She nods and folds it into the case as you look over the gloves. “How long will you be going for, miss?”   “A few days.” You look up at the twelve year old and the corner of your mouth tugs. “You’ll watch the house for me? I don’t want any roaches to crawl in while I’m away.”   Her head bobs up and down. “I’ll try my best, my lady.”   You smile, noticing Jane looking into the room. She realizes you’ve seen her and clears her throat. “Do you need any help, my lady?”   “No, I’m fine, thank you.”   It’s nerve-racking to leave the estate and Trulia. You trust that a few days won’t bring things into chaos, especially considering that you’ve kept your affairs discreet. But underlying the unsettlement is a buzz of excitement — that just for a short while, you can escape.    You feel that way even a day later when you’re at the train platform. And whatever you were afraid of is washed away with Taehyung by your side.   “Stand right here. I’ll only be a moment,” he tells you, holding your tickets to Colmar and you nod.   Your hand grips the suitcase as you overlook the bustle of people. You’ve never seen so many gathered in one place before, families and lovers parting ways, children rushing past, the conductor quickly pacing to the front of the platform. It’s dizzying to look at and overwhelming to be in.   You wonder if you look out of place in the mass of people. You chose to wear a white dress with a natural silhouette, a bustle pad underneath and a bonnet around your half pinned-up hair. It’s modest attire, but the threads are still expensive. The last thing you would want is to attract needless attention and that’s why you made Taehyung wear a normal white waistcoat and black frock coat with matching trousers than his usual stiff tailcoat. He looks rather nice in normal clothing anyhow.   As you think about Taehyung, you start to search the crowd.   The red and black painted train whistles, smoke coming from its chimney. It looks like it’s about to leave soon, but you’re not sure if you should go in or where you would even sit or put your luggage. It’s been so long since you’ve been on a train, you don’t know what to do.   The endless questions and uncertainty drains blood from your face and you start to panic.   Until Taehyung comes into sight.    “What took you so long.” You frown at him but he still has the audacity to smile.   “My apologies, I had to check if we were at the right platform. Let’s go.”   He takes your suitcase and offers his arm which you take.   Taehyung keeps you from being swallowed by the thick crowd and pushed back. His height looms over even most men and although his stature is lean, he remains steady. Once you’re at the doors, he puts down the cases and holds your hand to help you up the step and then he resumes by your side, cutting through the passenger cars.    The two of you pass the more luxurious sleeping cars and as you peek into the window of the car of commoners, wondering if that’s where you’re heading, he slides open the door of a compartment.   It’s a private booth with a large window and a ledge overtop for your suitcases.   “Here we are, my lady.”    Taehyung organizes your belongings as you sit down on the plush seat. A moment later, the train begins to move, wheels rolling against the rail and then it builds speed to chug along.   You watch houses flash past the window.   “What do you think?” he asks, sitting opposite of you.   “Is it supposed to be so nauseating?”    Your head is light and the world is dizzying from the fast motion of the train. Taehyung must see your weakened expression with the way his eyes widen in alarm. But you quickly lift your hand and try to reassure him, “It’s fine.”   It isn’t. And he knows it.   “We can get off the next station.”   “No!” You inhale a deep breath, calming yourself. “We have to go. We have to make it, Taehyung.”   You shut your eyes. There’s no way you can turn back now. “It’s probably because I haven’t been sleeping well.” Not when you’re up day and night taking care of what your parents left for you, even if it’s only temporarily. And not when you’re kept awake plagued by the secrets of the people who were supposed to be closest to you. “The herbs in my tea can only do so much.”   Suddenly, you feel the seat dip beside you and your eyes flutter open to see Taehyung. He reaches over and gently guides your head to lean on his shoulder. “Then sleep. Don’t think about anything else.”   The corner of your mouth curls. “You make it sound so easy.”   “I’ll watch over you.”   A noise is made at the back of your throat and you allow yourself to mold against Taehyung’s side, your head cradled against the slight slope of his broad shoulder. As you ease, your fingers slowly drag itself over until you graze the back of his hand. No words are needed. No explanations are necessary.    Taehyung flips his hand so that his palm faces upwards and his fingers entwine with yours.   Within a few minutes, your chest begins to rise and fall, soft breaths escaping your parted lips.   Taehyung’s eyes stray from the windows to watch you.   You’re cold and blunt, carrying yourself with an intimidating demeanour that either frightens others or causes them to despise you. But he can still see the traces of your childhood self, even if the recent weeks have forced you to harden. Taehyung knows that you’re still sentimental, that you’re affectionate, that you’re not as indifferent as you’d like to be.   He knows you’re still grieving for your parents.   The two of you grew up together after all.   Since young, he’s been told he’s talented for this line of work, but devotion was another matter. He was told that being a butler meant more than just serving — it meant protecting. And he swore his duty to your name that day you took the blame when he stole from the kitchen and you got slapped by your mother.    He can still remember your small frame standing in front of him. How your words didn’t waver.   Taehyung knew it then and he knows it now — there’s nothing more important than protecting you.   His mouth tugs and his eyes lift from your sleeping features, but something catches the edge of his vision. Taehyung looks up to the window of the compartment door and finds a man, blue eyes, blonde hair curled in front of his forehead. The stranger peers into the compartment and when he notices Taehyung’s gaze, he dips his bowler hat as if to shield himself.   Taehyung moves.   He cradles your head until you’re laying down fully on the seat and he quietly slides the door open.   “Excuse me.”   Taehyung moves past someone, eyes darted on the man who peeks over his shoulder and quickens his steps.   He had seen the man before — earlier on the platform and then again when he left you alone. Taehyung came back right in time. You hadn’t noticed the man behind you at all.    Taehyung quickens his steps, stalking after the man who looks over his shoulders once more. His strides hasten. He practically breaks out into a run. Taehyung chases after him as the train curves into a tunnel. The windows are blackened, darkness sweeping throughout the cart.   He hears staggering breaths pulling roughly out of lungs and at the same time, the train rushes out the tunnel. Light breaks through the windows again and the steel door at the end of the cart begins to close. Taehyung sees through the tiny gap where panicked eyes meet his own gaze.   Taehyung runs.    He throws open the door and the cold wind rips through his hair with the intensity of a storm. The wheels shriek against the rail. There’s only a tiny step before one would have to make the jump to the other cart’s door. In between are violently rattling metal links that connect the two carts.    “Hah!”    There’s a squeak of shoes behind him. Taehyung ducks. The door slams closed.   The man’s arm is extended midair, having missed Taehyung’s cheek and within a blink, Taehyung grabs his arm and twists it. The man shouts in agony, teeth gritted. “Why you!”   His fist swings and it manages to catch Taehyung’s jaw. He’s knocked back, tasting a surge of coppery blood.    Taehyung wheezes, but his lips curl into a smile. He launches himself forward as the man squares himself. An arm swings. Fist curled. Taehyung dodges.   Taehyung takes the opportunity, no longer on the defense, and he swiftly strikes.   The man stumbles back, air ripped out of his lungs, eye sure to bruise.   Taehyung steps forward, but the man grabs something within his coat.   “Step back!”   Taehyung’s met with the muzzle of a revolver and puts his hands up, calming his breath.   The man snorts with a sly smirk. “Yeah that’s right. You’re just a dog.”   But then Taehyung's left hand clutches the man’s wrist and he contorts it at an angle, knee coming up to slam into the man’s stomach. Instantly, the man keens and wheezes.   He cries out as the revolver crashes onto the links connecting the carts and falls beneath to the rails.   Taehyung grabs the man’s collar and holds him backwards, nearly off the train. The man’s eyes become rounded in fear. There’s a storm of verdant in the background, fields and trees darting past.   “Who are you?!”   “Let go of me! I...I swear, I didn’t want to do this!”   “What do you want with her?” Taehyung demands, shaking the man whose head nearly touches the steel rails. The man’s fist curls on Taehyung’s so he doesn’t fall. “Answer the question!”   The shout is torn from Taehyung’s throat, his face crumpled into unadulterated anger, jaw clenched.   “I-It was her uncle!” the man quickly spits out in fear of his life. “Seokjin! He hired me! He wanted me to kill her!”   “So you were planning on putting a bullet through her head?!”   “I-I just needed the money! I’m sorry! Please, please,” the man pleads. “You don’t have to do this. W-What has that girl ever done for you? You’re just her guard dog!”   Taehyung has a deadpan expression, eyes dim. He begins to release his hold on the man who audibly sighs of relief. “That’s right.”    But it’s too soon.   “Don’t you know dogs are one of the most loyal animals?” Taehyung grabs the man again as he stands and throws him off the train into the soft meadow. “Woof.”   The man’s scream echoes. Taehyung dusts off his hand.   He comes back to the compartment to where you’re still sleeping and resumes his spot with your head in his lap, finding a warm blanket to drape over you.    Six hours later, you wake up, rubbing your eyes. He smiles and tucks a loose strand of hair in front of your face behind your ear. But your sleepy daze shatters when you see his split lip.   Almost immediately, you’re leaning over to Taehyung, grazing the wound with your thumb.   He sharply inhales.   “What happened?” you demand, worry written all over your face.   It hurts to smile, but can’t resist it. He should never admit it — he likes it when your attention is solely on him. “I tripped.”   You look at him incredulously. “Taehyung.”   “I did.” He doesn’t give up the excuse no matter how much you prod and pry.    The train arrives in the town of Colmar shortly after.   It’s a quiet place with a certain dryness to the air in spite of the river running through the town and underneath the bridges. The homes are tightly knitted next to one another. It’s a cozy kind of atmosphere. For a moment, you can imagine your mother having spent her life in this place and you’re not certain how to feel.   You decide to stay in an inn near the square, dropping off your suitcases in your given room.   “We should find him, shouldn’t we?”   You turn from the window to Taehyung with an unreadable expression.   “We don’t have to,” he says and it’s all too tempting. You want to forget that you’re here looking for your mother’s old lover, that you’re searching for your sibling. You wish you can pretend that this is merely a trip to enjoy with Taehyung in a place far away from Lennox.   But even if you were to dream such a thing, the truth would not stop plaguing your mind.   You muster the strength to shake your head. “We can enjoy ourselves after. There’s no point in putting it off.”   “He’s an artisan. A woodworker.”   The detective’s words ring inside your head.   “Lives in France, in a town called Colmar.”   It should be difficult to find the man — that way you have a legitimate excuse to put this off. You wouldn’t have to confront your parents’ secrets. Or meet a brother or sister you never wanted.   “But he grew up here in Lennox.”   Yet this town is small and there is only one known woodworker. If such a thing as fate or destiny exists, then it never stops being cruel to you.   The bell rings as the door of the shop opens.   “Hello there! How can I help you?”   There’s an older man behind the counter busy at his shelf, brunette hair and features tender, wrinkles creased around his eyes to mark each smile he’s collected over the years.   You come towards him with Taehyung by your side. “You were at my mother’s funeral.”   At your murmur, the man turns around wide-eyed. Arthur Kahl, the man your mother loved, who she wanted to marry and be happy with. The father of your sibling.   “You’re Hana’s daughter….” His mouth draws open. “Wh-what are you doing here?”   “I came to see you. I think you may have answers to my questions.”   “I-...I don’t know if I do, but please, sit.” He hobbles to the front of his shop, turning the sign over to not receive any more customers and the both of you sit on wobbly chairs. He knows you came this far, that you searched for him. There’s no other way you could have found him. “I’m sorry I never spoke to you at the funeral. I thought since we didn’t know each other, there was no point in bringing back old memories.”   “Is it true then?” You look at him carefully. “About my mother and you running away together…”   “That was a very long time ago.”   “Then why did you come to see my mother?”   “It was a long time ago, but I still wanted to pay my respects. Your mother...was a wonderful woman and treated me kindly. I’m glad she ended up having a good life and a happy family.”   The corner of your mouth twitches.   He continues, “While I never personally met your father, he seems like a very respectable man and a good husband. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”   The words sit uncomfortably in you. Your parents always seemed to treat each other with mutual respect and trust. It was never a passionate affair like pairs you’ve met, but rather a quiet relationship of sitting alongside one another. You never would have guessed your mother had someone else.   But you don’t want to know anymore about your mother’s history.   “I received my parent’s will a day after their burial.” You inhale a breath, bracing yourself. “And it promised my sibling the estate and the company. I don’t want to harm them. I want to fulfill my parents’ last wishes. So please, allow me to meet my sibling.”   Your eyes meet his earnestly. The man stares back at you, his brows knitting together.   “My apologies, but I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding. I don't know who your sibling is.”   The clock on his shelf ticks loudly.   “Your mother and I never consummated our relationship.”   //   The night sets in, matches hissing into a flame and thrown into the wood in the fireplace until it awakens and paints the room in a warm orange hue. The quietness is deafening outside of the crackle and pop of the fire.   You haven’t eaten. You don’t want to. You don’t think you could stomach it.   “My apologies.”   You’re seated at the rounded table in the chair, motionless. You should’ve never come. You should have just stayed in the estate instead of trying to dig around in the secrets of your family, into the reasons why nothing was left for you, why they didn’t love you even after death.   “But I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding.”   You came here for nothing.   “I don't know who your sibling is.”   Your efforts were worthless.   “Your mother and I never consummated the relationship.”   There’s an ear-splitting crash that rings the four walls.    Taehyung opens the door, eyes darting to you. You’re hyperventilating, clutching the handle of your suitcase, all your belongings fallen on the ground beside the wall. You toss the case aside with a frustrated cry.   He calmly shuts the door before anyone in the inn can pry and closes the distance in two strides.   “It’s okay.” He opens his arms and he engulfs your quivering frame.   You grasp onto him, your hands twisting into his white shirt. “I-I don’t know what to do, Taehyung. I...I really thought I had it. I was preparing myself—”   You were preparing yourself to meet your sibling. To confront it all. For once, you were ready.   The frustration cripples you blind and angers you.    How much longer will you be left in the dark? How much longer do you have to look like the fool, a child fumbling in her parent’s history searching for the truth? Why did they do this to you?    Why?   “You can cry,” Taehyung murmurs.   And tears finally slip from your eyes to stain his shoulder.    If it wasn’t for him, if he wasn’t here, you might have lost your mind by now.

[strawberryvanillablast]

Renai Circulation (Tsundere!Giorno Giovanna X Female!Reader)

I’ve seen many Yandere!Giorno fics here that I decided to do a reverse. But he’s more of a gentle tsundere of sorts. I’ll do more in the future! 

.

From the beginning, he knew that nobody would love him with much passion or sincerity. And he accepted that as soon as he could walk and speak. After all, if he couldn’t, then he would be destroyed in this world where evil reigned. But of course, he had a dream when he saved that gangster in the alley when he was younger. 

And that dream could substitute for any love that he might feel. After all, to feel love within this world of cruelty and treachery would be dangerous even for his own soul. 

Besides, there was no way that someone would love him like that anytime, right?

. 

The first time he met her was because of her friend. Her friend borrowed money from Passione and was falling behind on payments. Generous as he was, there was no way that he would be taken advantage of like this. And so he set out for his destination with Mista and Fugo. When they reached the address and Mista knocking down the flimsy door, they were met with an almost empty condo. 

“Oh, hi,” A cheery voice called out from the kitchen. “I’ll be there in a minute!” 

The moment he laid eyes on her, Giorno felt something weird. She wasn’t model pretty like Trish was, but there was some sort of charm to be had with an animal T-shirt and loose pajama pants. Her (e/c) eyes were soft and warm and her (s/c) skin looked soft to the touch...Giorno blinked. Wait, what? What were those tiny thoughts just now?

“Are you some of their friends,” The girl smiled sweetly. “They told me that some of their friends were coming in the week, so I prepared some lasagna and pizza! Are you all hungry?” 

“Sweet, I’ll take some!” Mista said, licking his lips before Fugo elbowed him. 

“No, Mista,” Fugo glared before turning to the girl with a neutral stare. “Miss, we are here because your friend is behind on their payment. We’ve come to collect our payment so to speak. I assume they have told you about this information.” 

“Kind of,” The girl shrugged. “You just missed them, though. They went on vacay with their other friends and won’t be back for some time. Till then I’m holding the fort down.” She grinned. “But we can work all of those things out after you eat. I imagine you must be hungry! Wait here, I’ll get the food!” 

Giorno blinked in disbelief. Even though they were from Passione, a mafia gang, her first thought was to give them food? He was completely dumbfounded at the girl. Was she masking her fear by kindness? That could be the reason as to why she was acting like this. Yes, there was no way that someone was actually being this kind to them. 

“This is just great,” Fugo lamented. “We came all this way here for the money yet they managed to still get the drop on us. Besides,” He lowered his voice. “I don’t trust this girl. What if she’s a gopher and slips poison into this food?” 

Giorno would be inclined to agree and be alert and watchful over their cornered prey, but something about her made his walls around his heart fall just a bit. 

“If you folks want, I have an abundance of Tupper ware that you can take home if you can’t finish it here. Oh, and if you like, I have some cookies! Perhaps a bit of cake to take home for tomorrow!” When she saw that none of them spoke, an embarrassed expression formed on her face. “Oh, pardon me! I forgot to ask for your names! What are your names?” 

She...didn’t know who they were...? Was she just messing with them at this point or was there something more? 

“I’m Guido,” Mista began. “This is Fugo and Gio. We’re, ah, friends of your friend and we’re awfully worried about them.” Mista could definitely act. “Are you sure it will be some time before they come?” 

“Mhmm,” The girl nodded sadly. “But I’ll call them as soon as possible!” 

Her voice was soft, gentle, and filled Giorno with an emotion that he’d never felt before. It left him feeling a bit hazy in his head and he managed to snap out of it when he and his entourage left the condo. He blinked and turned to the girl, who was standing there waving at them. 

“Wait a minute, miss,” Giorno said, trying his hardest not to stutter. “What’s your name?” 

“Ah, my name is [Y/N] [L/N].” 

. 

[Y/N] [L/N]. 

Giorno tapped his leg in thought. She was definitely an interesting person, to say the least. He’d never felt this way before. Sure, he’d felt close to his comrades. It was one of the first times that he had felt a bond. But that was after near-death a day for an entire week. 

But this one treated them so cordially, so familiarly. And it made him feel...He felt an odd warmth beating in his heart. And she didn’t have to do so at all. She was, at the very least, hospitable. 

“Hey, Gio,” Mista called. “What’s up?” 

“Hm,” Giorno blinked. “Nothing, Mista. It’s nothing.” 

“Giorno,” Fugo scolded. “I know that she was very charitable and hospitable, but do not forget that she is a friend of our loan shark. So, please, be alert.”

“Oh, come on, Fugo,” Mista grinned cheekily. “When have you seen GioGio act like that? Who knows, maybe he’s found the one finally! Why else would he ask for the lady’s name?

The one? Giorno raised an eyebrow, not noticing of the pink blush on his face. It was nonsense. Love like that couldn’t be real, certainly not this fast. He scoffed, turning back to the window. And he wasn’t falling in love at all! 

...Right?