#hope this solved your question and feel free to drop any time you want

[isoobie]

hii can i know your daily routine from morning to night. i also want to know how you manage writing and how you manage your tumblr. i want to know what major you study. i want to know because i am new to tumblr and managing time is hard for me. if you feel this ask uncomfy, you can ignore me.

hi nonie! tbf i am the person you would least want to ask bc i kinda ghosted this app and writing for a couple months but i can tell u anyway :P

as i am still a student in school i dont major in any particular field yet but i still have lots of tests so i revise alot 🤲🏼

with managing my writing and this tumblr acc i usually aim to write something whenever i get the chance to, for example, if i have some free time or i have finished my work early ill go in my drafts and cook something up

however its different if i was working on a smau or long fic, for those instances i would keep in mind that i need to write every day for ‘this’ long and update my smau ‘this’ many days if that makes sense

i think the main point is to balance your social and personal life with this acc because being chronically online can be fun but missing your assignments and slacking on grades isnt so fun either :/

and as for my daily routine 🫳🏼 i wake up at 5:30 am in the morning and get any school work done if possible or i do a small workout thats 30 to 40 minutes long and then get ready for school

when im on the bus i usually check my socials and take that time to reply to messages and work on a fic, and the same thing goes for when im coming back home

its 4:45 pm when i come back home and once i do i watch a show or kdrama and eat a snack before going on a walk or riding my bicycle for 30 minutes

after that i shower and go to study and do any homework or revise, but if i have nothing to do i take the chance to write some more (i need to start again)

[eddieismissing]

WHEN I GET HOME YOU’RE SO DEAD!

part one. || part two. || part three.

(based on the song when i get home youre so dead by mayday parade)

after your argument with eddie about your infidelity, things were still unclear. but your boyfriend still loved you, after all he had saved you from that man in the ally of his favorite dingy bar. (not before publicly humiliating both you and his bestfriend during his performance of a new original song). steve unwillingly brought you both back to eddie's trailer after your boyfriend demanded him to.. and now he finally had you alone. let chaos ensue. 3K+ words.

rockstar!eddie munson x reader. steve harrington. steddie x reader, (if you squint).

warnings: 18+, angst, fighting, infidelity, crying, dark content, choking, dirty talk, teasing, degradation, markings, obsessive behavior, violence, rockstar!eddie, p in v, breeding, hair pulling, slapping, biting, dom!eddie, dark!eddie, mean!eddie, rough stuff, seriously this is gonna be angsty, aftercare, misunderstandings, subspace, dom drop, soft!eddie, fluff & aftercare, two idiots in love, solving conflict, and things I'm sure I missed.

this is a wip, part three coming very soon! (edit: it’s posted!)

SMUT DIRECTLY UNDER THE CUT. NO MINORS PLEASE. 18+.

The car came to a quick stop. The tires of Steve’s car rolled on the hard gravel that mapped out Eddie’s lot in the trailer park. Your boyfriend still had you pinned underneath him in the back seat. Rough denim jeans against your skin ignited heat in your chest as his hips moved rhythmically into you. The relief you received from him against you was intoxicating, reminding you of the many times you’ve danced with him like this before. It was always loving and caring, rough when Eddie knew you needed him to clear your mind. You hoped he would clear your mind, because this time there were unanswered questions. Problems you know wouldn’t just be solved with him taking control and causing you to unravel for him. This time you both knew it was going to be different. A puzzle of emotions laid out between you two.

You hadn’t been under him like this in awhile due to your argument that led you into making bad decisions. Both of you hadn’t been able to peel back the skin of humiliation you had experienced for the past two weeks. The dream that had caused this was still lingering in the back of your mind. It was a wound that was still fresh. His reaction to your dream still stung, but it was easily forgettable as he worked against you. He held the remedy to your injury in his hands. His words. His movements. He was more kind to you than normal, but his harsh bites and tugs were laced with something strange. Your fingers played with the hem of his shirt, but you longed to place a finger on what was really bothering him.

You getting Steve involved in this situation must’ve driven Eddie up the wall. Writing that song about you and then performing it was reliving for him. You couldn’t be mad for the harsh words and digs that he wrote throughout his melodies. It was his way of expressing himself, and his feelings. You had to accept that. Especially after you had expressed your feelings with Steve. You and Eddie had been joined at the hip for as long as any of your friends could remember, so why couldn’t this have been resolved before you got to this point? The fighting was all so messy, so unexpected, so pointless. But the relief you both craved for answers and solutions was drowning in desire instead. Eddie was never good at being vulnerable without his songs and you were never good at making decisions. 

Eddie’s hips continued to work against yours roughly as he reached for the car’s door handle to make an exit. You couldn’t help yourself as your bottom lip pinched between your teeth while he surged forward. His free hand reached down to grip your hip to keep you still, his actions demanded you to be still. You could tell he didn’t want you to have any form of control after how much you had hurt him. His touch was burning as his warm fingers pushed you harder into the cushion with a growl. 

“Don’t you dare fucking move.”

A small whimper left your throat against your will as you heard the door pop open. Eddie glanced down at you with a knowing smirk. 

“Got you excited? You’re so eager for me aren’t you, sweetheart?” He said in a low whisper. His hot breath fanning against your cheeks made you blush a light pink.

Steve sighed in the front seat, reminding you he was there, “Alright, Ed’s let’s wrap this up.” 

Eddie pulled away from you and grunted, “can’t you just shut up?” Eddie barked.

He grabbed your cheek and pushed your face into the backseat cushion as he spoke to his best friend. Your face was flat on the expensive leather that dressed the back seat and was sticky from the heat that radiated off of you and Eddie. You let out a cry as the muscles in your neck turned abruptly. Eddie quickly shot his eyes at you when the subtle sound you made stirred his stomach. His eyes were scarily dark as he watched you. You couldn’t help but lift your hands and paw at him to get the loving glassy look back in his eyes. Instead, he laughed at you. You looked pitiful like this. 

You could tell Eddie was proud of his work already with the satisfaction dressed all over his face. He easily was able to get you so worked up with a few dirty words and some aggressive movements. He leaned down to lick your cheek grossly, he let his tongue hang out of his mouth as he gazed down at you. A line of spit connected his tongue to your cheek.

“Open that pretty mouth up for me.” He didn’t give you a chance to obey as he pulled you mouth open winder with his index finger and middle. Steve watched in the rear view mirror.

You moaned as Eddie’s fingers played with your throat softly. His index finger toyed with the heat of your mouth as he watched you swirl your tongue around his middle. He groaned. Eddie’s touch got harsher when you sucked him in with hollowed cheeks, your lips reaching all the way down to the hilt of one of his sparkly rings. His eyes bored into yours as he watched his jewelry sparkle with your spit. The deep black color of his pupils that swallowed his irises in the darkness of Steve’s backseat was a good reminder that he was hurt, and he was just getting started. Your heart started to beat faster. He was going to ruin you when he finally had you alone. His hand that was on your hip gripped you tighter as he watched your eyes gloss over in realization. Tonight was going to be exhausting for the both of you, physically and mentality.

When Eddie moved his touch away from your lips, you released him with a pop. Your mouth stayed open willingly. He smiled lovingly when your tongue softly fell from your lips begging him for more of a taste. Your taste buds danced with a metallic taste from the dried blood on his knuckles and a bit of sweetness from whatever he had been drinking at the bar. The flavor was evidence of him saving you from that man in the alleyway earlier, but it was also comforting and safe. Nostalgic of all of your memories shared together.

Eddie was everything you wanted and more compared to Steve. You couldn’t even remember how Steve felt against your lips when your thoughts were consumed with Eddie. Your mind and senses were sent into overdrive as you tried to compose yourself enough to hear your boyfriend's next command or question. Just trying to have enough brainpower to answer him when he spoke to you was damning when you felt this lightheaded.

It was so hard to focus. His fingers gently played with your swollen bottom lip and he laughed at you as you tried to suck him back in. He quickly gripped your throat to keep you from squirming. The pitiful whimpers that spilled from his new hand placement only seemed to edge him on. Your throat was warmed up and worked open from the previous intrusion of his big fingers, but he wasn’t going to give you something to keep your mind cloudy and occupied. He’d keep you on edge all night. You tried taking a deep breath, closing your lips in a tight line to steady your breathing while his hand soaked in your spit tightened around your throat. 

Eddie didn’t like that. He raised up slightly, and leaned back. Holding his body weight up with his knee and abandoning you. His hand that once held a vice grip on your hip was suddenly in your line of vision. He smacked you on your cheek with a harsh slap and you cried out at the pain. He smiled devilishly.

“No. None of that. If I tell you to open your mouth for me, you keep it open. I'm gonna be taking every last breath from you.”

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, you immediately opened your mouth up for him again, scared of what might happen if you disobeyed him in any way tonight. He shushed you as you winced at his gentle kisses on your cheeks. They were sure to be a little red by now. 

“Oh, baby… did I scare you? Shhh… m’sorry sweet girl. You're such a good girl for me.” Eddie leaned down to kiss your tears from your cheeks. Eddie hummed, loosening the grip he had on your throat.

“Don’t you think… I deserve it?” he kissed you again, “after everything you put me through?” he huffed.

“I’m not gonna be gentle with you tonight, we both know that.. and you’re already soooo needy baby… all because of me?” He chuckled deeply. “I wish you could see how miserable you look, all dumb for me with your mouth open wide…” 

Suddenly he was leaning closer and Eddie’s wet hot saliva was dripping into your throat, some landing on your cheek. You swallowed. He smirked as he cooed at you. His hand reached up to the spit on your cheek and spread his mark over your face messily. The taste of liquor and cigarettes filled your senses once again. He removed his hands from you and pushed open the door further. Chills went down your spine at his messy attitude, but it was partly caused by the cold air that rushed over you as the heat of Steve’s car rushed to escape out of the crack in the door. You clung to Eddie, trying to absorb his warmth. Your ankles crossed behind his back and your arms reached for purchase around his neck. They tightly landed against the back of his slick leather jacket.  

His body weight fell onto you at your motions, he let out a gruff and a laugh to mock your desperations. The sweet sound was laced with love. That was the first sign he still cared. He matched your eagerness as he pulled you to him by the small of your back and forced your legs to latch onto his hips tighter. He felt you shiver from the cold and began kissing you on your collarbone and neck to keep you warm. His tongue was soft and pillowy in comparison to his harsh biting. He dug his hips further into you to lift you up on his lap so he could slip out of the car. Your body followed him. You sat on his thighs and faced each other.

Eddie bushed your hair out of your face gently as you fit into his lap perfectly. He blushed before pausing to admire your features. He was so proud of how your eyebrows furrowed softly. You looked so precious with your swollen pink lips and blown out eyes. Eddie stared at you. 

“You’re still the prettiest girl I have ever seen. You know that? don't you, baby?” he whispered.

You silently nodded. He smiled dreamily. He knew your head was already light and spacy for him. Eddie grabbed your chin and pushed your head to the side, giving himself more access to your throat. He slowly kissed up the colom of your neck in gentle kisses. When he reached the spot that made you melt he nipped you with his sharp canines. 

“Eddie, ‘m sorry. i- i just don’t know..” you hiccupped, “do- don’t know what i was thinking, baby.” 

He giggled into your shoulder while listening to you intently. Your voice was set in a higher octave. He trailed his hot tongue from your collarbone to your neck. When he reached the shell of your ear, to accept your apology, his voice was gruff. 

“Oh yeah?” he clicked his tongue and let out a breathy laugh, “but.. sweetheart” he paused. “You fucked up bad, didn’t you?” he pulled away as his eyes softened on you. He could see your eye’s filling with more tears.

“Admit it for me. I almost got you out of that head of yours hmm? it’s okay, I've got you.. you don’t have to think about anything else but me… and I know I messed up too, pretty baby.” Eddie confessed to calm you.

“I’m gonna fix this attitude. I’ll fix this little problem you’re having thinking I don’t love you. I’m gonna show you just how much..” he kissed you gently before pulling away again. “...i love you.”

“I love you, Eddie.” You whimpered, he smiled at you before diving back into your soft neck. 

“Mmmhm. Like i said, I promise I’ll try being gentle, but I don’t think you really deserve it. Do you?” he questioned, testing your limits, wanting to know how far he could push this before he broke you.. and if you would be willing to take it. take him.

Steve groaned at his best friend's words. He sat stone cold in the front seat continuing to watch the two of you in the rear view. Steve knew this was going to be one of the last times that you were ever in Steve’s presence. Steve would be lucky if Eddie ever let you be within 20 feet of him again, and he was overly surprised Eddie even saved him from that fight in the alleyway. Eddie would’ve left him to teach him a good life lesson if you weren’t involved, but Steve’s thoughts on the whole situation didn’t stop him from speaking up again,   

“Can you guys hurry this up?” Steve spoke with his hands, pointing to Eddie’s trailer.

“A room is literally 10 feet away. At most.” He cried. 

The words Steve spoke engulfed Eddie in anger. He smirked sarcastically, clicking his tongue against his teeth. Eddie’s eyes met Steve's in the rear view as he pulled you closer. Eddie shuffled forward while he turned his attention to Steve. Eddie’s hand wrapped his hand around your throat tightly to keep your eyes on him. You whined and Steve rolled his eyes at the metalhead. Your head got lighter and the boys could see your arousal dripping from you. That's exactly what Eddie wanted. He was desperate to have you back in his arms. In his possession. You weren’t Steve’s, nor would you ever be. Deep down he knew that, but he wanted him to see it. 

Your tantrum was only caused because you thought he didn’t care about your little dream. Eddie hummed while his hand remained on your throat pushing down even harder. His grip was bruising. Your pulse was beating against his finger tips, but he paid no mind to you. All you could focus on was him as his eyes turned sharp. They watched Steve’s expressions darkly as he spoke to you. The way his head turned exposed his neck over you. It glistened with sweat in the dark lighting that flooded the car’s backseat. 

“Hear that baby? Hmm? Your little toy doesn’t wanna play with you anymore..” he snapped. “It’s not like he could really handle you anyways, you someone who will treat you like the slut you are. A doll like you needs to be properly played with.. don’t you?” 

He felt you try to nod at him while he watched Steve. His focus was back to you suddenly. Eddie’s hand moved swiftly from your throat to in the air. He smacked your cheek with an open palm. Both you and Steve jumped at the smacking sound. Your tears spilled out of your eyes from the sensations running through your body. He moved to get fully out of the car. His big boots thudded against the gravel as he lifted you out and kept you tightly to him with his strength. 

“Dumb whore. Words. You know I need your words.” he snapped. 

you whined, “..mhm.. only you know wh-what i like, m’promise.. only you take care of me.” was all you could choke out.  

His voice was deep and dark compared to your needy cries. You could feel the desire Eddie oozed to fuck you silly as he ignored Steve yelling to be careful with you as he adjusted you in his arms. He made sure he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave marks. You heard him kick the car door shut. He let out a breathy chuckle as you flinched at the noise. Eddie kissed you hungry as Steve’s car slowly backed out of the driveway. His feet carried the both of you to his trailer. Both of your eyes soft as you rubbed his cheek with your cold hand and gazed into each others eyes.

“I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry.. Eddie.” you sighed. You felt him walk up the stairs as his knees brushed against you. His hand reached into his pocket to grab his keys and he fiddled with the door knob before he spoke again. 

“You fucking better be.” he whispered before the door opened with a soft click.

His big palm rested on the small of your back as he pushed you against him. Like a magnet your legs tightened around his small waist so he could adjust you in his arms. Eddie kicked the car door closed behind him as he walked into the empty trailer. The brief walk to his house felt so long. The cold of the air outside made your skin prickle in chills, you shirt was still somewhere in steve’s car. Inside you looked at him slowly, resting your hands on his hot cheeks. He recoiled slightly, as if your cold hands burned his already hot face. You couldn’t tell if he was angry with you or if the liquor from earlier in the evening was the cause of his body heat increasing. A part of you hoped that it was you that was causing him to blush warmly. He paused as you rubbed the pad of your thumb under his eyes. A silent offer to dry his invisible tears.

“Will you ever learn to forgive me? If I apologized and told you that it’s always been you… wo.. would you believe me?” you whispered.

A look of shame danced across Eddie’s face, “Sweetheart, I know it’s always been me doll.. and listen..” Eddie sighed as he sat on the couch.

You sat politely on his lap, not wanting to put your entire weight on him. Eddie grabbed your hips and pushed you harshly against him. You yelped as your thighs split further apart to make room for him. He hummed in satisfaction.

His eyes were glassy as he spoke, your hands danced down his chest now, “I believe you and I forgive you.. but you’re gonna tell me exactly what you did with Steve in that bathroom, baby.. and you’re going to be good for me. If you disrespect me tonight more than you already have then we're going to have bigger issues.”

Eyes widened, you looked at Eddie in surprise, “You want me to do.. ed… Steve and I.. it was just a kiss.. just a kiss.” you cried. 

Eddie’s grip tightened on your waist, “..if it was just a kiss, show me.. how did you kiss him.. hm?” he raised your chin with one of his fingers so you would meet his gaze. 

“I- I don’t wanna think about Steve while i'm trying to make this up to you..” you reasoned with him. He let out a groan, “I don’t give a fuck what you wanna think about, if i demand you to show me.. you. show. me.” 

Your soft hands danced up and down your boyfriend's chest, “We.. we started like this.” You fingers continued to trace his chest. “He had his hands on me, and he was..” Suddenly eddie’s hands traced small circles on your hips. “and he put his hand on my neck.. he was gentle.” 

Eddie laughed. His fingers hovered over your hips until they were tracing your spine, when his hand met the back of your neck he gripped you hard. The muscles in your body tensed. Eddie could feel your pulse in his palm. You winced and he pulled you back slightly so he could move you anyway he wanted to.

“Of course Stevie treats you like your glass when i'm not around… he knows i'm the only one allowed to break you huh, sweetheart?”

All you could choke out was a strangled, “mh-hm.” Your boyfriend released you and tucked some of your hair behind your ear before he traced your hips again, “and what happened next?”

“..w-well we kissed.” you answered.

Eddie didn’t like that, and he was tired of repeating himself. His features turned sharp. He lifted you off of him and brought you to your feet. His frame towered over you and made you feel so small. As he crowded your space he walked forwards, you couldn’t help but flinch away from him until your back was met with the wall. Lifting both of his hands above your head, he placed his palms flat on the surface. Both of his forearms caged you in as his hot breath fanned on your face. He looked so sexy like this. 

“Do you not understand what I meant by show me? Are you to fucked out to understand my demands, pretty baby?” he paused, his eyes watching your lips part.

“You have no idea what I have planned tonight. Thought about it all last week.. couldn’t wait to see you.” he took a deep breath as if he was inhaling the fear that oozed off of your body. “I'm going to break you, like you broke me.. I cried for days, over one stupid fucking kiss.” He whined. 

“Now.. kiss me.. kiss me like you kissed him.” 

fin.

my masterlist. || part three.

[nyewclear]

HI NUKES!! I hope you’re having a lovely day 😋 cutie little question here what spending a morning with the coffeecast be like [like waking up with them getting ready all that jazz] feel free to answer with any characters you want it doesn’t have to be all of them <3

Love ya 🫶

hi anon!!! i'll do the main coffeecast for this one, starting with artemis :-) odina, kurou, kolia, and mordag are under the cut!

artemis is a slow riser and really likes to stay in bed for as long as they can. they’re the type to hit snooze repeatedly and have alarms for every five minutes. they’re horrible to try to wake up lol because they’re like a log. if you’re sleeping in the same bed as them it’s soooo hard to get them to get out of bed because all they want to do is spoon and stick their face in your hair. once they’re out though, they can get ready pretty quickly, with the exception of doing their hair (they always spray it down and comb it out and it takes ages to dry). they have a tendency to skip breakfast or eat really lightly (granola bar, apple, toast with jelly, etc…), but they’ll always make sure to grab something for you too hehehe.

odina wakes up on time but always runs behind because she loves to scroll on her phone when she wakes up. you’ll often find yourself woken up by her yelping because she dropped her phone on her face BAHAHAHA she also takes ages to get ready because she curates her outfits very deliberately and she likes to spend lots of time doing her hair and makeup. i mean, she works at a salon… who would she be if she wasn’t looking her slayest at all times! she always makes smoothies at home and then grabs breakfast pastries at a local cafe by her job. when she’s off work though, she makes full breakfasts that look like meals straight off of pinterest boards, then eats them right in front of the television.

kurou also always wakes up on time but he’s a GROUCH until he’s either (a) kissed awake or (b) fed breakfast… whichever comes first hehehe. he showers at night after work generally but sometimes when it’s cold out he’ll take a scaldingly hot shower before he gets ready for the day. he wakes up pretty early because he always cooks breakfast, often times also for mordag and artemis. he also likes to make sure he has time to smoke a joint after breakfast lol, and he typically takes a walk around the block as he does it, but that’s only on his days off because he typically works super early. however if you’re spending the morning with him, all of this kind of goes to shit because he’ll expend most of his effort trying to keep you in bed rather than getting out of it ;-)

kolia’s also a grumpy riser but it’s solved with a morning cigarette and a cup of coffee. she works a 9-5 office job so she always has to be very timely, plus she drops her youngest brother thadri off at school in the morning when kixis works opens at the department store he's employed at. she lives at home with her family, so mornings are typically very busy and noisy, but she's also the type to skip breakfast and opt for eating snacks at her cubicle until lunch. she generally doesn't bring people over lol, too much going on, and kixis is way too nosy for her to spend the mornings with anyone but the rest of the family.

mordag is very leisurely waking up because she works afternoons & evenings. she’s kind of spoiled lol— she eats whatever breakfast kurou makes, goes out into the backyard to read a book and drink tea until she feels like going back inside or needs to get ready for work. on her days off she rides her little moped to the farmers market!! she's definitely a brunch girl. very fun to have a sleepover with her hahaha :3

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (4)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. slight profanity, mentions of suicide/pregnancy/murder/cheating

notes. 14.3k wc. unedited, so please excuse any minor grammatical and punctuation errors. i will edit once i have the free time again. for now, enjoooy and i’m sorry it took me more than a month :&lt;

series masterlist -> episode five

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to tell you. It must’ve been uncomfortable for you to see me here.”

Uncomfortable? Not at all. Weird? Maybe.

And it wasn’t because you were jealous nor were you refusing the idea of another woman alone with your ex-husband. What it ignited within you was a reasonable flame of curiosity as to why Akemi would visit Satoru unannounced. The sight of them together was a math problem that you couldn’t solve with just a single look because never did you expect that you would see your friend and your ex-husband locked in an embrace like they had known each other for decades.

But here, go and solve that problem in the form of a linear equation in two variables. Satoru and Akemi are your variables, their motives are your coefficients, and this odd situation is the constant.

Akemi (visited her friend’s ex-husband without telling you) + Satoru (being too comfortable with the said friend without you) = A blossoming friendship that you did not see coming.

But where does the slope go and where does it intercept?

Damn it. You hated math. You hated solving questions that you could not answer and this was one of those many instances where thinking about it would simply make your head hurt. It would be easier to assume the prima facie that they may have simply clicked when she took Sachiro on the day you couldn’t. Wasn’t that how they first met? Plus, based on how his mom described her ‘comforting presence’ to you, then it only meant that they got along fairly well despite all the heartrending experiences that you had periodically told Akemi about Satoru and the failure that was your marriage. She met him, probably heard his side, and now took the chance to get to know him. It was simple math after all.

However, 2 + 2 does not equal blue.

That was a non sequitur. You said it as it was; your marriage failed and you had no right to feel anything more than curiosity because Gojou could talk to any woman that he wanted. There was no marriage that still kept him tied to you after all. So after a moment of silence and a couple of footsteps that led you inside the cafe, you finally found the right response to your friend’s question.

“It’s not uncomfortable at all,” you answered as honestly as you could, standing in line to purchase a cup of Americano. “I’m pretty sure Auntie asked you to visit?”

Akemi nodded at once. “I mean, she asked if I could visit alone because she was deeply upset that you weren’t there. I couldn’t tell you I was going to drop by because you’ve been so busy and I was afraid that it might hurt your feelings to know that his mom asked me to come. You already have so much on your plate, so…” she trailed off, gauging your emotions closely. “I hope you don’t think I’m deliberately lying to you or anything.”

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m totally fine with everything.” Your smile was genuine and more so were your words. “I’m actually glad that he was able to talk to someone while I couldn’t visit him. You know our history and I feel at ease that he’s getting along with someone who understands the bigger picture.”

The bigger picture being the cinematic universe of your romantic tragedy and why your marriage ended that way. Three years in New York was enough for Akemi to hear about Satoru’s initial treatment towards you; namely his infidelity, his lies, and all of the pain he had caused. But those negatives that she had heard of him were balanced with the positives of his dedication as a father, his sweet ways of trying to win you over, and the genuine love that he eventually learned to harbor at some point in your marriage. Keynote: at some point. Because in retrospect, you weren’t sure which of it was real and which wasn’t.

“I’m glad you see it that way, Y/N.” A smile eased off the tension that possibly burdened Akemi's mind. “Also, I didn’t know he could be such a funny guy. You never told me.”

You made a quick search through your memories. “Pretty sure I did?”

“Well, you did say he loves to tease,” she recalled, chocolate brown eyes scanning through the glass display case that flaunted a row of delectable pastries. “He loves joking around, I guess.”

Yeah, you mentally agreed, choosing not to say anything further. Satoru would only joke around with someone once he had become comfortable around them, but even in your first few months of being married, he was never that genial towards you and it took quite some time for him to actually soften up while they, what, met for like two times only? This just made you even more curious. “What does he talk about with you?”

Tilting her head slightly, she then answered, “Nothing much, really. I’ve been trying to measure the extent of his amnesia and it seems that he still heavily loves you. It makes me wonder if he even stopped loving you at all.”

You held your breath. “It’d be better for him if he stopped. We live different lives now.”

“Yeah, but…” The hesitance in her voice made you look into her eyes. “Do you not have any romantic feelings left towards him? Even minuscule? You’re gonna live with him soon and you might end up falling for him again.”

At least, you found it in yourself to be resolute with your answer. “Not gonna happen. I have Toji,” you said, repeating those last three words in your head like a mantra. “Besides, Satoru’s gonna hate me once he remembers everything.”

She quickly disagreed, “I doubt it. He thinks so highly of you.”

Why, just why did it make you feel even more guilty? Your guilt was already a chasm, a bottomless pit, an abyss that you could not escape. Even if you provided the public with a sincere apology, you still couldn’t find peace from your moral liability because that very guilt had become an albatross that hindered you the chance to live a normal life. You were overcompensating solely for the fact that you refuse to hurt more people despite hurting on your own, and all of this just became a cycle of the same pathetic life that you had suffered with as Gojou’s wife. He used your guilt of marrying him, claiming that you ruined his relationship with Sera, and manipulated you into thinking that you should pay the repercussions. While he did have a remarkable character development after that, it still wouldn’t change the fact that the guilt he planted in your head back then was what forced you to stay and be treated like absolute dirt at the beginning of your marriage.

And now, you were back on that loop of being the scapegoat.

People hated you no matter what you did and only a handful were genuinely concerned about your well-being as a person, which was why you were grateful for Akemi because she had become that person to you. She was a kind soul who only ever wanted the best for you, so you found no wrong in telling her that she could visit your ex-husband anytime she wanted. She was free to talk to him without having to feel worried that you might see it in a different lens. Or that you would become possessive over the littlest things. No, you weren’t like that. You didn’t own Satoru anymore, and neither did he make it feel like he truly belonged to you throughout the duration of your marriage because you still had to share him with another.

But beyond that, maybe you were overanalyzing Akemi and Satoru’s interaction too much. You caught them hugging and so what? It could have meant anything. You could hug a stranger and not feel a thing. The possibilities were as endless as the expanse of the universe and its infinite void.

“I’m saying this just in case you’re curious,” Akemi ended up disclosing the situation as if she could hear your trail of thought, “He hugged me because I opened up about my ex and he kinda just felt bad. You know my background.”

Oh. You cursed yourself inwardly. “I-I wasn’t really thinking much about it. I’m sorry if it seems that way.”

“Well…” she debated telling you more, “The context of my conversation with him earlier was actually somewhere along the lines of infidelity. He said he vaguely remembers cheating on you, but he’s still aware nonetheless.”

Honestly speaking, without her, you never would have had the balls to ask Gojou that yourself, so this was a win-win situation. “Did he tell you if he remembers Sera?”

She shook her head in response, pondering at the thought. “It’s actually interesting that he doesn’t recall her face or how deep their relationship was. Selective amnesia is so tricky.”

Surely. And wasn’t it a bit odd how he could hearken back to the good days of your marriage, but not the full details of his infidelity? He was aware that he caused you pain, but not the extremity of it? You decided to let it go and put your mind at rest because nothing good will come out of recollecting the afflictions of your past. Not to the point where you had become laconic, but you stayed tight-lipped as you and Akemi eventually left the cafe, parting ways when you reached the hospital’s lobby. “Do you wanna go up with me first before you leave?”

“No, it’s okay. He and his mom know I just dropped by.” Her smile was followed by her action of rubbing your shoulders. “I’ll see you at work, then.”

You were about to say the same until a sudden idea spurred a light bulb above your head. “Wait, I just… I’m just wondering if I can ask you for a favor?”

Akemi's eyes widened. “Of course.”

“Please let me know whenever Satoru mentions anything about our marriage. I have a feeling that he’s gonna confide in you because he knows we’re close.”

At the end of the day, her loyalty was with you, right?

This was no better than assigning someone to be a spy, but thank goodness Akemi understood your intentions and was willing to be transparent at all times. “You can count on me. I’ll tell you immediately if he ever brings up the topic again.”

As awkward as ever, you soon returned to Satoru’s hospital room and immediately heard his sprightly voice as he talked to Ian and the kids. Your ex-husband was visibly animated to see new faces to entertain him in his confinement and he was even more lively when you entered the room to join their conversation. Ian didn’t have to speak a word for you to know what he was thinking and you were sure that he was hoping to see the situation that you have with Gojou with his own eyes. If prosecutors make their judgments based on evidence, then watching how you would interact with your ex-husband was part of his investigation. All he had to do was sit and observe until he could make a conclusion out of the said situation. The plaintiff, in this case, would be Gen.

“Babe, you’re back.” Grinning was your husband as he held both Nina and Sachiro on his bed, with the two kids playing on their iPads while he reached out to you. “Did Akemi leave already?”

You nodded, allowing him to lean in and kiss your cheek. “Yeah, she had somewhere to go.”

Sachiro looked up at you briefly, showing the sparkles in his crystal blue eyes as he smiled. “Mommy!”

“Auntie!” Next to him was Nina who also greeted you with the same enthusiasm.

You matched their energy when you showed a box of strawberry and cream choux buns that you got from the cafe. One of the many things that Sachiro inherited from his father was his sweet tooth and it was a chucklesome sight to see how the father-and-son duo looked delighted with the pastries inside the box. “Easy. You two can’t have too many sweets,” you teased, opening the packaging so they can get a piece.

It didn’t take long until your brother-in-law spoke to you. “Satoru’s doctor came in a few minutes ago. He said he’ll be discharged from the hospital tomorrow.”

“What, really?” You looked at both Satoru and Ian for confirmation. “That soon?”

Satoru, after wiping the whip cream on Sachiro’s chin, nodded at you. “I can’t wait to go home with you.”

The momentary look that you and Ian had exchanged was because you could tell that he was wondering how the setup would be from hereafter. Obviously, Ian was worried for Toji because they shared a close bond as longtime friends and it must have been weird to know that his friend had no choice but to allow this situation you have with Gojou even if it hurt him. Ian had a soft spot for you the same way he was sympathetic to Satoru, so he was placed in a position where he couldn’t exactly judge what was morally right or wrong. It was a gray area that he, himself, could not deny.

To ease the awkward air, you changed the topic. “Where’s the doctor now? I have to know what medications Satoru has to take.”

Ian gestured his chin towards the door. “He’s speaking to his mom outside. You wanna join them so you’d be updated about his condition, too?”

You pressed your lips together and forced a faint smile. Considering the amount of animosity that she had towards you, you reckon that it was for the best to stay away from Gojou’s mother for now. “It’s alright. I’ll just try to speak to the doctor later.”

Although Ian sent you a knowing gaze, he didn’t really catechize you about it. He was left to try and make another small talk with Satoru, possibly to eliminate any questions that might arise from your clueless ex-husband. “Satoru, are you planning to return to work soon?”

Satoru’s azure eyes looked hopeful. “I want to. I miss the company. I wanna know how it’s doing these days.”

During their small talk about business, law, and the stock market, you spent the rest of those minutes focusing on feeding Sachiro and cleaning his mess as he and Nina ate the choux buns together. Your little boy happily munched on the pastry with his cousin, and at some point, the little girl chimed in on his uncle and father’s conversation to ask a question that turned your entire body into a block of ice. “Uncle, do you love Auntie Y/N again?”

For a moment, everything was on pause as if the cinematic scene was trapped into its panoramic frame. Satoru did nothing but look at Nina with an oblivious understanding of what she really meant while you silently prepared to counter her question with a subtle lie. It hurt your heart to keep lying to him this way, but there was little choice to be done in his current state. Gojou’s mental stability was the priority above all and the last thing you needed was to see him crumbling down from the harrowing memories of your divorce.

“What do you mean? I’ve always loved Auntie.” His answer was laced with honesty as he grabbed your hand and placed his lips above it. “She’s my forever.”

You found it difficult to breathe—not with the intense pounding of your heart nor the whirlwind of inexplicable emotions that trespassed your mind. You managed to see Ian sending Nina a wary look before you cleared your throat and pulled your hand away. She must have had a briefing from her father not to ask silly questions before coming here, but being the child that she was, she still ended up slipping words out of curiosity. You couldn’t really blame a curious child over a situation that you brought upon yourself. All you could do was to try and deviate from the topic while you still could.

“Nina wants to hear some cheesy words, huh?” You smiled spastically, humoring a conversation you didn’t wish to have in order to veil your unease. “Let’s not ask questions that’ll make Uncle be all lovey-dovey.”

“But Auntie, I haven’t seen Uncle in three years,” stated Nina, only to cause a sudden stab of anxiety in your gut. “Plus, Sachiro’s in New—”

“Nina!” Ian warned, carrying his six year-old child out of the bed. “Let’s go. Your Uncle needs to rest.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat as your breathing had gone thin and ragged, communicating with Ian through eye-contact and deciding that it was best if they leave. “Yeah, it’s getting late as well. Gen might be worried.”

“Wait,” Satoru called, “Leaving so soon?”

Ian took the initiative to explain on your behalf and you were grateful that he was perceptive enough to know just how important it was for you not to disclose any crucial information to Satoru. “We’ll visit you again at the penthouse. I’m sorry I took the kids a bit late since I had to take depositions from my witnesses. I’ll be sure to take a day off work next time we visit.”

You held your ex-husband’s hand and squeezed it. “Nina has to go to school tomorrow, too. Sachiro’s still here, though.”

“Okay.” Although a little bit sad, Satoru could no longer insist for them to stay and simply waved goodbye to his favorite niece. “See you next time, Nina.”

Nina returned the gesture and waved her small, delicate hand towards your ex-husband and son. “Bye Uncle, bye Sachi!”

Sachiro clung to his father’s neck and snuggled closer to him. “Buh-bye!”

Did that save you from being at the edge of a steep cliff? No. You could tell Satoru had questions, but you excused yourself so you could have a private word with Ian as you followed them out of the door and into the hallway where you crossed paths with Gojou’s mother. She barely acknowledged your presence, though she did have the decency to greet Ian and Nina before heading back inside the room. Your brother-in-law noticed the inhospitable atmosphere between you and your ‘mother-in-law’ and he didn’t shy away from asking you about it as soon as put his daughter down.

“Y/N, we need to talk about that,” he brought up, eyes fixed on the slightest contortions of your face. “I heard how his mother spoke to you earlier.”

It was difficult enough not to feel nauseous from the antiseptic miasma that lingered through the hallways, and thinking about how Ian heard everything about your conversation with Gojou’s mom could probably make you vertiginous. You didn’t want any of your family to know that you were feuding with her. “It’s nothing. She’s just a little upset. Don’t mind it.”

“That doesn’t sound ‘a little upset’ to me. She’s shoving another woman to your face just to spite you,” he pointed out with a tone of disapproval. “Gen’s gonna be furious—”

“Don’t tell Gen, please. Or even Dad. You know better than this, Ian.” With the desperation in your voice, you hoped that he could understand that you absolutely want to keep your sister away from all this. “Please, Ian. I’ll beg if I need to. Try to see it in Auntie’s perspective, too. She took care of Satoru when he was suicidal, so things have been really hard for her.”

A sigh crawled out of his lips along with the haze of sympathy that reflected from his eyes. “I’ve already warned you since the beginning. I don’t see this ending well for you, Y/N.”

Neither did you, but at least you could lessen the magnitude of your ill-fate as much as you could. You were aware of the consequences and you were sentient of the aftermaths that sprung from the wrong decisions that you’ve made. It was too late to regret, too late to back out, too late to change things from the past that were already said and done. What you had left was the future and how you were going to handle things from there.

One of the things you appreciated about Ian was the fact that he knew his boundaries and he was never one to meddle with your personal decisions. He would give pieces of advice here and there, but it was merely to guide you from making grave decisions that could have a lasting impact on your life. He cared for you like a true older brother and supported your happiness more than anything else, so even if it meant having to hide things from Gen, he was willing to comply as long as you knew what you were getting into.

But did you really know what you were getting into? Because when you re-entered the room, you could feel your muscles stiffening and your heart stumbling over its own rhythm. Gojou was nestling a sleepy Sachiro in his arms, staring at you with the blue pigments of his eyes becoming more pastel in hue.

“What did Nina mean when she said I haven’t seen her in three years?”

There, he laid out the question before you even managed to take three steps forward. Yet not once did you halt when you sat at the corner of his bed to stroke Sachiro’s hair, avoiding your ex-husband’s curious gaze. “Oh, that? It’s just her saying that she hasn’t seen you in ages.” Lies, but not exactly. Those lies came in the form of little and white. “Everyone’s just been really busy with work and we don’t see my family a lot lately.”

From the corner of your eyes, Satoru’s mother was crossing her arms, annoyed as she sat on the couch in unfriendly silence. She couldn’t dare speak a word to you, at least not when her son was around because arguing with you would hit her like a boomerang, but words needn’t be said for you to know that she was distasteful of your lies.

“Okay, then we should reconnect with your family. Probably visit often,” he suggested, pulling you by the waist so he could press his nose on the tip of yours. “I don’t want them to think that I’m hogging you too much. Your dad must miss you.”

Before you could speak another word, Sachiro raised his little hands with the intention to cover his eyes. The action caused you and your ex-husband to smile after you realized why your son did that. “Dada, don’t give Mama kissies in front of Sachi.”

How innocent—it almost hurt you. If there was anyone who would be greatly affected by the strain in your marital union, it was your son who hopelessly held onto the belief that his parents were still in love. You could endure another round of heartache, but you weren’t prepared to break Sachiro’s heart because it would be the pinnacle of your pain to see how badly your failed marriage would affect your child’s life in the long run. You ruined it for him.

Yuuta wasn’t really sure if he missed Japan and the memories it brought him.

From the moment his plane landed to when he stepped out of the airport, he breathed the fresh Tokyo air and the nostalgia hit him like a destructive tornado without a warning. His mother, his stepfather, his stepbrother, Nana, you… how much had changed since then? He wasn’t oblivious per se, he had just unintentionally buried those poignant memories during his stay in America because he was inclined to focus on his studies and gain knowledge from the unparalleled education that Harvard offered. He did his best to keep his promise to Satoru that he would study hard and return to Japan to help him around with the family business. Back when Yuuta first left the country, his stepbrother was struggling from the aftereffects of his infidelity scandal which subsequently led the Gojou Group to a massive decline in the year 2021. It did manage to recover its multinational prestige three years after, mostly with the help of the interim CEO Nanami Kento, but the chairman himself didn’t really improve as much as the conglomerate did.

And even more, Yuuta didn’t expect that he would reunite with an amnesiac brother who just lost a huge chunk of memory because of an accident that happened shortly after attending your wedding with Toji Zen’in.

But before he could say his two cents about it, his first plan was to visit a prison in Tokyo that incarcerated some of the most dangerous felons in the country—one of which was a woman that he shared blood relations with. He couldn’t exactly say that he missed her because even the sheer thought of her could make his blood run cold. She was responsible for the trauma that he had obtained and it was reasonable for a teenage kid like Yuuta to be emotionally scarred from all the horrors he had witnessed because of his mother. Now that he was in the early stages of adulthood, he became much more independent and mentally resilient enough not to be swayed by her mother’s manipulative nature. He had to present a version of himself that she could not exploit for her personal interests.

Hence, here he was now, facing Eula three long years after she was sent to jail. He probably would have delayed his visit for another week if it wasn’t for his girlfriend who convinced him that delaying things might only make things more difficult. If not now, when? That was Maki’s question when they spent their time together last night talking about the possible outcome of being face-to-face with his own mom.

Initially, Yuuta thought that his mother would be apoplectic to see the same son that testified against her in court. He thought that his mother would scream at him, cuss him, and even attempt to hurt him just like he often did whenever Satoru was within her vicinity. Whether it was because Yuuta was her son by blood or she simply achieved some level of character growth, it was quite surprising to see that she was actually emotional behind the glass screen that separated the two of them.

“Yuuta, my son,” she bawled, tears flowing out of her downturned eyes as she pressed her cuffed hands against the glass, visibly desperate to touch her child. “Why did you only visit mom now? Why? Do you hate mom that much? M-My baby, you’re all grown up.”

If he didn’t know better, he would have believed that this woman never committed multiple crimes. The desolation in her voice nearly squeezed his heart as she continued to wail, crying about how much she yearned to see him. “How are you, Mom?”

A lot has changed, to be frank. There were deep bags under her eyes, sunken cheeks that made her cheekbones prominent in an unappealing way, and dull skin that was clearly a sign of her lack of personal hygiene. Her mom had always cared about how she presented herself to others, so much to the point where it became the source of her greed and narcissism when she experienced the life of a billionaire’s wife. And because she was stripped of that privilege, things had since gone downhill for her physically and emotionally.

“Miserable,” she answered without hesitation, showing the pitiful glaze in her eyes, “Get me out of here, Yuuta. Don’t make Mom suffer. Satoru’s the one who should be here. He hates you, remember?”

It was a good thing that Yuuta anticipated her resentment towards his stepbrother. “He isn’t responsible for your wrongdoings. You’re here because it’s the consequences of your actions. Because of you, Nana died. Because of you, Dad’s paralyzed.”

She unwaveringly denied it. “No, no, no. That was Satoru—”

“Mom.”

“It was that son of a bitch, okay?” Her frenzied eyes hinted at the ire that was rising in her. “That selfish bastard! He should go kill himself!”

“Mom, stop it!” A cloud of warning settled over his features, his lips curling in disgust. Forget the character development. It was clear as day that his mom never once changed and it was doubtful that she would even fix that part of her who incessantly gaslighted people just to shift the blame away from herself.

Thankfully, the prison guards held her back and urged her to settle back on her seat. It was unbelievable how her mood quickly shifted from being enraged to being calm and collected. How was that possible? Was she suffering from some type of mental condition? Were the people aware? Eula’s visage became stern by the time she sat again, squaring her shoulders to look composed. “Did you come here alone or are you with Satoru?”

Yuuta figured that he definitely shouldn’t mention anything about the car incident because he had a nagging presage that his mother would be celebratory had she heard of the news. “No, I’m with my girlfriend,” he said, choosing an honest answer, “She’s waiting for me so I’m not gonna stay for long.”

“Hang on, hang on. A girlfriend?” She raised an eyebrow. “Is she American? Is she rich? I want you to date Asian girls only.”

Jesus. He exhaled wearily and shook his head. “I’ve been in a long distance relationship with Maki.”

It seemed that the name—or probably the last name associated with his girlfriend—sparked a savage fire in her eyes. As if that name was a trigger for all the rancor that she had in her heart. “Maki Zen’in?!” she yelled, “There are billions of women in the world and you chose a Zen’in? Do you understand what her fucking family did to me, huh?!”

“It was Naoya. Leave her out of it.” His instinct was to defend the woman that he loved because she didn’t deserve this hatred, not when she did nothing to even contribute to her mother’s incarceration. “You’re the one who got involved with Naoya, so now you’re paying the price.”

Her fists trembled violently. “Yuuta!”

Perhaps he could do this some other day because he wasn’t in the mood to deal with his mother’s unreasonable temper. That, and the fact that he no longer had anything much to say to her. His plan was just to check on her briefly to see how things have been in prison, but it looked like he would only suffer from hearing her endless false claims and the waterfall of toxicity that gushed out of her mouth. So even if she relentlessly called for his name, Yuuta made the decision to leave and turn his back on her, heading out of the visiting room—out of the entire building until he was able to reunite with Maki at the parking lot. Her first instinct was to cup his cheek and make him look into her eyes, worried about how the conversation had gone between him and his mother.

“On a scale of one-to-ten, how bad was it?” she asked in a lighthearted tone.

He held her hand and grazed his thumb over it. “An eleven,” he answered, pressing his forehead against hers, “You can kiss me though to make my mood better.”

Instead of a kiss, his playful request was met with a flick on the forehead. “Nice try. Where are you off to now?”

“To Nii-chan.” Checking his watch, he realized that he should probably get going. “He gets discharged from the hospital today. Do you wanna come?”

Maki rejected the offer. “No, I probably shouldn’t. Toji-san told me he has amnesia and we should be careful about what we say around him. Seeing a Zen’in might trigger some memories.”

In his head, Yuuta found it humorous how the Zen’ins seem to trigger people without their knowledge. They could sit on a corner, mind their own business, and they could still end up being the focal point of a Gojou’s unwanted memory. “I’ll just see ‘ya later, then,'' he spoke in his perfect American accent, chuckling as she rolled her eyes. “Let’s go, I’ll drop you off first.”

Two things.

There were two things that Yuuta couldn’t believe seeing when he arrived later that day in the hospital. To state the obvious, Nanami and Miwa told him everything about his stepbrother’s condition prior to his return; from how Satoru’s mind regressed back to the time he was still happily married, to how he actually turned out to have a son with you, and to how you were obligated to pretend and still be the wife that he everlastingly loved.

But again, back to the two things, 1) his nephew was the cutest kid he had ever seen and 2) his stepbrother had a large scar on his forearm which proved the apparent suicide attempt that had occured when he was on the brink of depression. He didn’t notice that scar right away when they met in America about two years ago, and only now did it pain him to imagine his stepbrother harming himself out of drowning grief.

If anyone were to ask him about his opinion on you, he would prefer to say neutral—leaning more for Gojou’s sake more than yours. Yuuta was a witness to the truth about your marriage from the very beginning, so he could understand both parties and what became the driving factor to your decision to hide Sachiro from his father. You were hurt, you wanted an escape, you wanted to heal on your own. Still, it was normal for Yuuta to feel bad for his stepbrother and how he suffered that much anguish after losing you.

“You remember me, right?” Yuuta displayed a genial smile towards Satoru, silently wishing that he wasn’t going to be hostile towards him. “I’m on spring break.”

Satoru was already in casual clothes (an ensemble of gray slacks and a black long sleeved polo), sitting at the corner of his bed while the maids gathered his items in preparation for his homecoming. There was no scintilla of hostility in his eyes, so Yuuta assumed that he didn’t exactly hate him, but he was still reluctant to ask about it. And while he waited for him to speak up, the first thing that his stepbrother talked about was not their relationship but the change in his younger brother’s appearance. “New hairstyle?”

Miwa suppressed a chuckle while standing on the side, quickly looking away as soon as she met Yuuta’s eyes. “Sorry,” she mouthed with her cheeks reddening.

Of all the things Satoru could have said, Yuuta didn’t think he would be paying attention to his hairstyle. The last memory he probably had of him was when he still had his hair down, messy and tousled in different directions. Technically speaking, had Satoru remembered his trip to New York (in search of you), his last memory would’ve been of Yuuta and the sideswept hair he was sporting now, which was also a typical preppy Ivy League style. During Satoru’s one-month stay in the US, Yuuta was able to spend some time with him to help find you, but that search was far from successful. Because if it was, then you wouldn’t be here in this hospital room looking extremely awkward around Yuuta.

“Hey, Nee-chan.” Yuuta ended up greeting you first because he noticed how you were testing the waters as though you were debating if he was rightfully angry. Well, he wasn’t. And he had no plans to show you any form of acidity. “Going back home?”

Your nod was small as Satoru hugged you by the waist, keeping you close between his legs. “How’s Harvard for you?”

Yuuta accommodated the small talk, knowing full well that he shouldn’t mention his visit to NYC. “It’s great. The culture is great, the food is great, the campus is amazing.”

Satoru made you sit on his lap before turning to his stepbrother. “You have a year left?” he asked, “How long are you gonna be staying here for?”

“Yeah, a year and uh, I’m staying here for only a week actually. I have to go back in time for the next semester.”

“Well, it’s nice of you to visit,” claimed the white-haired man—genuine appreciation was present in his voice, “Did you also visit the mausoleum? Dad must be waiting for you.”

Confusion danced in his eyes as he glanced at Miwa who could only return a clueless look at him. Mausoleum? “Dad’s in… the mansion. I was there last night.”

Satoru let out a scoff while holding his wife in his arms. “You saw his ghost?”

“Huh?” He had to shake his head, more so because his mind was in complete disarray. “He’s not dead…?”

A sneer from his brother was what he received. “Yeah, and how else would I have become the chairman?”

Because my mom pushed him off the flight of stairs and he became incapacitated? Because he made a Living Will stating that he wanted you to take over everything? Because that Living Will was what drove my mother to expose your infidelity in a public hearing? Yuuta took a deep breath and recognized the worry in your eyes, and so he decided to just go with the flow. That memory had a ‘Do not enter’ sign, it seemed. “...Yeah, I guess.”

It was still bittersweet to say the least. Bitter in the sense that Yuuta felt like he had lost the close relationship he had built with his brother over the years, and sweet in a sense that his brother now had his family by his side. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for the man to recover his full memories, but for now, Yuuta was happy that his brother could spend his days getting to know his son without suffering from the memories that could destroy him like a time bomb. Besides, if he had the chance to wake up next to an angel like Sachiro every day, Yuuta himself would consider it his felicity.

He was nothing but a stranger to the little boy, and yet the kid with the same snowy hair and powder blue eyes treated him like a real uncle. All it took was one word from his mommy for the toddler to happily follow Yuuta around as he and Miwa headed towards the nearest vending machine. You, Satoru, and his mother needed to speak with the doctor, which was why they became the designated babysitter to look after the youngest Gojou heir.

“What does Sachiro want?” Yuuta could melt just with how the kid adorably held his hand. “You want ice cream?”

Sachiro was holding Miwa’s hand on the other, looking up at the both of them with those big, round eyes—his white hair bouncing as he nodded. “Ice cream, please.”

Miwa hunkered down to meet the little boy’s height and spoke to him with such gentleness in her voice. “What flavor do you want, Sachi?”

“Gween!” Satoru’s mini-me used his pointer finger to redirect their gazes towards the matcha-flavored ice cream bar, shyly twirling a foot behind him. As expected, he also had the same taste as his father.

“Okay, Uncle will get it for you.” Yuuta’s eyes turned into moon crescents as he smiled and immediately inserted a few coins inside the machine. He could see the glint of amusement on Miwa’s eyes and took no hesitation in teasing her about it. “What, what’s so funny? You’ve been silent around me all this time and now you’re laughing.”

She got up and averted her eyes, unaware that the apples of her cheeks were suffused with a pink tint. “Nothing. I just think it’s adorable how excited you are around Sachiro.”

He displayed a handsome, lopsided grin while reaching for the ice cream bar, ripping the packet open and handing the frozen treat to his nephew. “I don’t have any younger siblings, so,” he trailed away, chuckling softly, “Hang on, this is the first time you spoke to me since I arrived. Are you uncomfortable with me?” He said that because he and Miwa used to have a fortnightly video conference on Zoom while he was in America, mostly so that he could stay updated about his stepbrother and the current state of the Gojou Group. Miwa had always talked comfortably around him, even to the point where she shared some things about her personal life, so why was she acting shy now?

“N-No, it’s just that you have a different vibe in person,” was her reason, sitting at the nearest bench with Sachiro on her lap.

Yuuta took out a handkerchief to wipe the melted ice cream on the corner of Sachiro’s lips. “You’re intimidated?” he asked the blue-haired girl.

She gave a slight nod. “I mean, yeah. You could say that. Not in a bad way, though! It’s more like you’re-too-smart-for-me kind of way.”

“Because I go to Harvard?” He found it funny, somehow. “I’m probably their dumbest student there.”

She chuckled along with him, rocking little Sachiro in her arms who giggled at the action. “Don’t say that. You’re smart and I know that you’re doing really amazing out there. I honestly can’t wait for the day you’ll become the Vice President of the Gojou Group.”

Truth be told, the thought of running a business empire was overwhelming for him, but if he had the privilege to do it together with his stepbrother, then Yuuta would be more than honored to be given such an amazing opportunity. “Damn,” he uttered the word in English, “That’s the best way to motivate me. I should steal you from Nii-chan and make you my secretary.”

“Too bad, I’m Chairman’s favorite assistant. He’s never gonna let me go,” she replied playfully, blinking thrice in the same second.

“Dada?” A curious Sachiro looked up at the both of them as if he was aware that they were talking about his father.

“Yes, your dada.” Yuuta pinched his cheeks. “My girlfriend’s right. You’re really the cutest human I’ve seen.”

The smile on Miwa’s face quickly faded and was now replaced by his unblinking eyes that grew in wide circles. “Y-Your girlfriend?”

He nodded. Hadn’t he mentioned it before? “Yeah, Maki Zen’in. Do you know her? We’ve been together for sometime now.”

“Oh.” Miwa offered a small smile, but something about the shift in her stance made Yuuta wonder if he said anything wrong to ruin her mood. But before he could even have the chance to ask, she was already up on her feet and carrying Sachiro along with her. “Let’s go. They’re probably done.”

On the first night of Satoru’s return, you were a bottle ready to combust. Of joy? No. Of heartache? Yes.

The déjá vu that you were experiencing was on the side of being unpleasantly familiar, added with a tinge of melancholy and a sprinkle of remorse. It was a wistful feeling to return to the same apartment where you lived as a housewife prior to the anguish of your legal separation. Regardless of the signatures present in those divorce papers that the two of you had signed, heaven forbid that history could still repeat itself because you couldn’t fathom the idea that you were back to square one as a pseudo wife this time around. However, another major difference from then and now was the addition of your adorable toddler. Will things only become worse? Or will Sachiro’s presence mend the estranged relationship that you and Satoru now have under the premise that he had all of his memories back?

If your life was a simulation, then you could argue that the creator was unforgivably sadistic for this. How hard of a stone could their heart be to put a divorced couple back into their shelter of never ending pain in this 72nd floor penthouse? You were being playtested as though having to live with an amnesiac husband would determine your character’s bugs and design flaws. Every choice merited its consequence and every action would be detrimental to your social score. Perhaps, there was some kind of a code or a cheat to get out of this simulation game?

“It feels nice to be home again.” Gojou’s voice cut you out of trance as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, nurturing your cheeks with the softness of his lips, and further trailing kisses on the area between your neck and your shoulder. “I get to sleep next to you.”

No, not that kind of ‘cheat’! You couldn’t even Ctrl + Alt + Delete your way into forcefully exiting this game.

And you hadn’t even prepared how you would place that invisible barrier between the two of you in the comfort of your king-sized bed. To put a pillow in between? To scoot over the edge of the mattress? Or sleep—as he would want on the first night of your wedding—on a couch? You shook those thoughts away and focused on sautéing the medley of mixed vegetables inside your non-stick pan. “What do you want for dinner, Satoru? You have to take your meds after.”

He chuckled at the casual mention of his first name. Or the lack in your term of endearment perhaps. “Anything will do, baby.” Yawning, he stretched his arms and placed his hands inside the pockets of his sweatpants. Only a few meters away from the kitchen was a ceiling-to-floor view of the cityscape that stole his attention for a few minutes until he spoke again. “It’s kinda weird.”

You hummed, looking up as you finished your stir fry recipe. “What is?”

“If I remember correctly, we were supposed to live in that mansion,” he mumbled, uncertainty lingering on his eyes when he turned his head over at you. “I don’t know if I… did you know I bought a mansion for you? Or did I just imagine all that?”

Fuck. You had to utilize the excuse of not knowing just so he wouldn’t be more curious. “I-I’m not sure.”

Satoru was about to open his mouth, but the interruption in your unwanted conversation was due to a certain white-haired kid who came running out of his room with his little arms stretched forward. The minute you saw Sachiro's pouty face, you instantly knew the reason for his whining. “Mama, I want chicken!”

“No. What did we talk about eating veggies?” you strictly reminded, watching how your little boy was using his puppy eyes to persuade his dad. He forced a downward slope on his lips with tears threatening to spill out of his crystal blues. “No, Sachi. You have to eat veggies tonight. You promised Mama you’ll eat carrots.”

He threw a tantrum in return, stomping his feet and slumping his shoulders as if you were depriving him of a hearty meal. “Mamaaa!”

With the sudden change in atmosphere, you didn’t think Satoru would be so tender around his kid. “Hey, don’t cry. C’mere. What kind of chicken do you want, hm? Dada will cook it for you.”

“Satoru,” you warned, transferring the vegetable stir fry onto a plate. “He can’t. He’s had fried chicken thrice this week. It’s unhealthy.”

He was already carrying your little boy in his arms when he sent you a playful shake of the head. “Don’t be so strict, mommy. Sachiro can have as many fried chicken as he wants.”

Great. Now it was two versus one. How could you even win against them? Back when you lived with Sachiro in New York, he didn’t have a lenient father that spoiled him like this and the needle-like pain in your heart now was stemming from the bittersweet image of a complete family that you only once dreamed of. To see that family manifesting in front of you was a rewarding experience. But until when? For how long would it last like this?

“Fine. You win.” You buried your sentimental feelings and feigned your bliss from this domestic moment. “Even if daddy cooks chicken, you still have to eat the veggies tonight, Sachiro. No excuses.” You wiped the faint tear on his chubby cheek and leaned in to kiss his tiny lips. “Don’t be upset with mommy now.”

Satoru grinned and nuzzled his nose against the tip of Sachiro’s. “What else does my munchkin want?”

“Mac an’ cheese!” the boy cheerfully answered, waving a hand in the air.

“Alright, leave it to dada.” Your ex-husband put him down on a high chair, reaching for an apron so he could show off in his chef persona. “Sachi has a very American taste, huh?”

Out of panic, you distracted Satoru by tugging his hand. “Don’t exhaust yourself too much. You just got out of the hospital. I’ll cook for tonight, so just go and sit with Sachi.”

“I’m alright, I promise.” Although he tried his very best to insist, this version of Satoru had a hard time disobeying the wife he was smitten with. Another minute of that conversation was spent with you reminding him about the doctor’s advice and telling him that you would be angry if he didn’t listen to you, so your ex-husband was left with no choice but to transform into an obedient cat with downturned ears as he sat next to his son. “Okay, fine. Fine. As long as we all eat together.”

You see, that was the plan before it got interrupted. Dinner was going well—you were discussing your plans for Sachiro’s 3rd birthday which was coming up next week and decided on spending it in Disneyland because it was your son’s request. You also talked about your army of maids that would be moving in next door to assist you in looking after your child and your sick ex-husband because you had a busy schedule at work during the day. There were no office hours for you to rely on since your role as a Creative Director was not just limited to your office space, but also in the comfort of your home. That dedication to work was the intruder to your peaceful family dinner when you received a phone call from your assistant, Nobara, who informed you of the changes in your schedule.

“The show has been booked for next week and the flagship store is all set,” she informed on the other end of the line after you excused yourself from the dining table, “As for the online launch, the marketing team already made various promotions to let people know that the website will be up on Wednesday next. Do you think you can make it into the office tomorrow, Miss L/N?”

Thank God for your amazing team. “Yes, yes. I’ll be there tomorrow.” And by remembrance, you raised a concern, “Clear my schedule for Friday next week. It’s my son’s birthday, so make sure I don’t have any interviews or meetings that day.”

Wednesday: online launch. Thursday: meetings and interviews. Friday: Sachiro’s birthday. Saturday: the fashion show.

How could you fit Toji in all this?

You missed him terribly. Your heart yearned for even just the sound of his voice, but how could you find time when you barely had any to give? This only made you a terrible partner, and it was ironic enough that Satoru’s mother was the one who had to remind you of your incompetency as a partner in a completely different context.

“If you’re gonna continue neglecting my son, I’d rather he stays with me,” she claimed, voice thick with insinuation while sharpening her gaze towards you. The line of her mouth tightened a fraction more as she added, “You can’t even take care of my grandchild, either!”

Had the wall not existed in this room, would she have spoken to you with lesser ire? Certainly, Satoru would have heard it all in the living room if only he wasn’t far too distracted with talking to Suguru on the couch, who took the time to visit your ex-husband along with his mom. This strange alliance between the mother and the best friend was the best example of a plot twist that you already foresaw, which was why it wasn’t all that shocking to see.

“I had work, Auntie. I have a launch coming up, so please understand that I’ll be a little busy these days,” you reasoned, trying your best to understand where she was coming from even though it was getting ridiculous now. Your mother-in-law had always been warm and kind to you, but this woman right here was an entirely different person. Surely, experiences can shape a person, but that doesn’t mean they can use it as an excuse to treat someone so horribly. Your patience was already running thin and the only thing that kept you levelheaded was the thought of your son. You couldn’t expose him to a household where arguments happened on a daily basis—a household that Satoru was surrounded with as a child. “Sachi has a nanny and we have maids who help around the penthouse during the day. I promise they’re well taken care of.”

She raised an eyebrow, nevertheless. “Satoru made time for you even when he was busy back then, didn’t he? He runs a multinational conglomerate and yet he did his best to take care of you.”

“When?” you asked, breathing in restraint. “Only when I was pregnant? Because I don’t remember him making time for me when we first got married. He’d leave me alone, neglect me for days, and all the while, he’s being cozy with someone else.”

“So, you’re really doing this to spite him?” she scoffed. “See! Now you’re revealing your true intentions.”

The exasperation left your lips through a heavy sigh. Will you ever catch a break from this?

Throughout that afternoon, you needed to relax your mind because the raging fire from Satoru’s mom and the cold shoulder from Suguru were all too much to handle in one day, so you needed to call a ceasefire from the unwanted hate that was being thrown at you left and right. The last thing you wanted was to be alienated at your own home. And just how wrong could you be to think that even the most private place in the penthouse wouldn’t be infiltrated by the man that caused all this mess?

“Babe.” You didn’t hear his voice on the first instance as the pitter-patter of the shower dominated the bathroom, providing you with warm artificial rain as you spent the last few minutes rubbing your body with your jasmine and vanilla-scented soap. As the glass partition had steamed, you weren’t able to immediately discern Satoru’s figure as he stepped inside, ridding himself of his own clothing and proceeding to join your bathing session. “Late night showers, huh?”

You stiffened at his slightest touch, and even more when you felt his fingers tracing your sides with hot water running in rivulets down the dips and curves of your body. You grew tense from his appearance behind you and could not concentrate from the supposed peaceful bath that you had minutes before he entered the shower. Just imagine: a divorced couple both naked in their glory at such a small space—words needn’t be said what intimate actions could take place when temptation was right around the corner.

“I miss you so bad.” Gojou’s soft chuckle tickled your ear, and his warm breath added to the overall heat that you were experiencing. “It’s about time we make another baby. Sachi needs a little sister.”

Wrong. This was wrong.

But how the fuck would you explain that?

You made the effort to touch the manly hand that was snaking on your waist, removing it from your body as you briefly tilted your head to look at him. “H-Hey.” Laughing uneasily, you hid the nervousness in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

A small pout formed on his peachy lips. “It’s been three days since I came home and we haven’t spent some alone time,” his voice was velvety when he whispered in your ear, pressing his lips on your nape and proceeding to feather more kisses on your shoulder and neck. No, no. This isn’t right. “...I want you.”

There was no reason for your knees to go weak from that. Think straight, Y/N! No matter how familiar he was with every inch of your body, you shouldn’t give in from his touch. “Um, you can’t exhaust yourself. You just… came out of the hospital and all.”

“Mhmm.” He didn’t really listen because he busied himself kissing your earlobe, playing with the shell of your ear with his tongue. The sensation sent electricity to your spine and led your brain to short-circuit from the feeling of his hardened member brushing up against your hip. Your next reaction was to press your palms flat on the tiled surface of the wall, swallowing the lump on your throat as you assessed the situation in your head.

According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, these were the definition of the moaning, grinding, and kissing that this shower session could lead to.

Adultery (noun) : a sexual encounter or relationship between a married person and someone other than their spouse

Toji wasn’t your spouse, so how would you deduce this situation?

Infidelity (noun) : lack of faithfulness especially to one's husband or wife

Was there anything that didn’t exactly have to be tied to married couples?

Cheating (intransitive verb) : to be sexually unfaithful

There, the right word. The perfect word!

Out of your dire need to escape the situation, you gathered the courage to turn around and push Satoru away, who now looked at you in a cloud of confusion. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, avoiding his eyes as you moved out of the shower. “I’m just not in the mood.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t speak another word, couldn’t explain why you denied him of his marital right. As you wrapped yourself with a towel and didn’t bother drying your hair like you usually would, he eventually asked in a voice weakened by the pain of rejection. “Baby, are we okay?”

“Yes. I’m just too tired.” A half-lie. “Go to bed after you finish. You have to take your medicine.”

As much as you felt bad for the way you left him dejected and confused, you still wouldn’t have sex with him. You weren’t a cheater and you had established it within yourself that you were only acting as a wife with so many unspoken boundaries that he was clearly not aware of. It was easy to tell that his ego was bruised, mostly because of the awkward silence that lingered inside your bedroom, and you guessed that he was either connecting the dots or he was simply upset about you being ‘disinterested’ around him.

He wasn’t dumb. His frontal lobe was a part of his brain that was not injured when he got into a car accident, so the man had all the logical capability to be theorizing about what might have happened for you to act that way. Why don’t you cuddle with him? He must be asking himself. Why did you ask to sleep with Sachiro in his room? Why do you turn your back on him? The thing was, these questions only made much more sense when he vocally asked if the two of you were okay. Your answer? A shameless lie.

You had reasons, though. It was a little white lie that was said with the intention to lessen the damage—nothing more and nothing less. This was for Gojou’s sake at the end of the day and it was the best you could do to try and eliminate further suspicion from arising.

But for Toji who was back in his home wondering what you could be doing while living under the same roof with your ex-husband, this was unfair. And as you called him later that night when you snuck out of the bedroom after Satoru and your son had fallen asleep, you knew by the tone of your lover’s voice that he was indeed drifting from jealousy.

Moral of the story: maybe staying single would give you less problems.

Toji. Yes, at the time you called his phone at eleven in the evening, he was drinking his second glass of Macallan at their in-home bar, mindlessly listening to Megumi and Naoya who both had been chatting about nonsense for half an hour now. Look, Toji didn’t say ‘nonsense’ with a bitter inclination. What was considered nonsense in his handbook was anything unrelated to business, family, and you. Surprising? Despite the fact that he was pretending to be impassive about your current living situation with your ex, the bottom line of this was already at the preceding sentence: he was pretending. He presented the false appearance of being lenient about your decision to live with Gojou again, in the same way you were acting as a wife to a husband who was still truthfully, undeniably in love with you. On the contrary though, it would be cruel for Toji not to feel an ounce of sympathy for how the rest of you had become actors and Satoru was a spectacle that had no single idea about the audience surrounding his theatrical life. He couldn’t even face the man without burdening himself of the remorse he felt for wanting your ex-husband to have closure with you.

A second wedding was already within his reach, nearly two decades since his wife had died, but an accident had to fucking happen and the domino just hadn’t ceased from then.

And this, this very reason was why Toji needed his palate for his favorite hundred thousand-dollar scotch. Just another gulp of the strong liquor and he was already feeling less weight in his chest. “Megumi, don’t drink that,” he cautioned, noticing how his son was looking through the bottles on their extensive wall-mounted bar shelf.

The boy stood still behind the bar counter with a deadpan face. “But it’s just Cognac.”

“That’s too strong for your age,” he told him before downing the rest of his glass. “You’re just eighteen. Wait until you’re legal.”

“Psh. You’re lame, Dad.”

While Megumi rolled his eyes, Naoya took that chance to sneer as he sat on the stool next to Toji. “Megumi-kun, one Cointreau cocktail on the rocks, please.”

“Make your own shit,” the younger male retaliated, discarding the bottles he had grabbed from the shelf while leaning on the counter.

“Toji-kun, your son just cussed me!” Naoya whined, pivoting on his seat to look at the older man. “I told you that Yuuji kid is a bad influence! He’s Sukuna’s brother after all.”

The son in question shifted into a defensive stance—eyebrows creasing from the mere mention of his classmate’s name. “What’s Itadori got to do with this? Don’t speak of his name,” he spat, annoyed. “You’re just butthurt ‘cause Sukuna’s dating Sera-san.”

Naoya nearly choked from scoffing. “Ha-ha! Sera who? I don’t know who that bitch is and I don’t care about Sukuna. He’s not all that important as he makes it seem.”

Toji shook his head and poured himself another glass. “Naoya,” he spoke with a wary tone, “What did I talk about separating personal matters from business? Will you hold yourself liable if another company exclusively signs for Cleave Tech?”

That last sentence had the blond frowning. “Hang on, hang on. Why do you want Cleave Tech so badly when we can find others that are on par with Sukuna’s company? It’s like you have plans to acquire it or something…”

“Cleave Tech is the backbone of websites for big brands. They have effective project management, excellent project execution, and they’re adaptable to client requirements.” Toji laid out his reasoning with a business mindset in order to make Naoya understand. “It’s like picking the best apple in the market. You know how I roll and you know I expect only the best quality.”

A silent groan flew out of the blond’s lips. “Whatever. I’ll get my people to deal with it,” he complied in a lackadaisical manner, “I know Sera thinks she can prevent me from—”

“Why do you sound jealous?” Megumi asked, finding humor in how Naoya took offense from it. “You bragged about how she was obsessed with you and now you can’t stand how she’s dating someone better.”

“Better? What do you mean better?” Naoya exaggerated his defense. “Shut up! I’m an established CMO. How’s Sukuna better than me?”

Toji joined the banter. “You’re a nepo baby or whatever they call it. You had a head start at running a family business. Sukuna did it from scratch and became a CEO on his own.”

Naoya, as immature as he was, could not stand being compared to another man without getting his pride destroyed, so the father and son saw it coming how the blond would walk out in a fit of temper. He was mumbling about how his own family didn’t support him and how they enjoyed putting him down—possibly the most dramatic reaction that Toji had seen from his cousin in a while. No harm was actually done, though. In fact, Toji found it a lot more calming now that Naoya was nowhere near him.

“Dad.” But of course, Megumi was still here and the atmosphere had become a lot more serious. “You talked to Y/N-san on the phone?”

He nodded once and shook the cubes of ice in his glass. “She just wanted to check on me. She lives in that penthouse again.”

With Satoru. His son shot him a pitiful gaze, but did not exactly put his thoughts into words. All Megumi could do was to comfort his father by entertaining his loneliness. “You should trust her. I don’t think she’s gonna cheat on you.”

“I trust her. That’s not the problem,” he admitted, feeling the alcohol’s spirit entering his system. “The problem is whether I can still see myself getting married to her in the long run. She has a child with Satoru and I don’t mind that, but what if the man never recalls his memories? How long is she gonna have to cater to him? How long do we have to delay our marriage?”

And speaking of which, Toji was the one who had to speak to Gen and convince her not to meddle with the situation while everything was still sensitive. Ian told him about the gravity of this arrangement which was why Toji took the initiative to deal with your family on the backend to help lessen your burdens. Your father was still on a business trip to Europe, but Toji was sure that he would also be the first one to explain to your dad why you were living with your ex-husband again. It would be easier because your dad was more understanding than Gen. However, it still didn’t change the fact that your father would be worried for you.

Choosing momentary silence, Megumi only opened his mouth after pondering about the situation in his own lens. “Dad, do you love her as much as you loved Mom?”

The answer was trapped in his throat, unable to be freed from a reason he refused to acknowledge. His wife. His first wife was everything to him. She was his life, his world, his whole universe. He remembered her like it was yesterday and the thought of her smile still brought that sense of calmness in his heart.

“Your mom is different,” Toji spoke again, seemingly confirming his son’s theories. “She’s my first love and my first wife. The love I have for her is incomparable.”

Megumi stretched his lips into a thin smile. “Then, in that same sense,” he began, carefully speaking his next words about you, “Satoru Gojou is Y/N-san’s first love and her first husband, too. Her love for him is incomparable.”

It was another busy day for Hearte. Even though her job description was limited to being a Fashion Merchandiser, Akemi was doing more than what she was required to because she wanted to do her best in contributing to the successful launch of her friend’s brand. They both poured in enough hard work in conceptualizing this brand, doing strategic planning, and compiling business financials even back when they were studying fashion in New York, which was why it would be gratifying to see that their blood, sweat, and tears would be rewarded soon. There were times where Akemi wondered how things would have been if she was the Creative Director, but because she wasn’t blessed with a stockpile of money to invest on starting a company of her own, she decided that it was better to just be a contributor to a start-up fashion label.

Besides, Hearte had the potential to be of the same prestige as those established European brands. With enough patience and determination, a company could grow and expand as long as you wouldn’t give up throughout the process.

Akemi forgot what it was like to have a good work-to-life balance since this week’s schedule was so loaded that they couldn’t even sit down and relax. Every employee that she saw in the office had ad hoc duties that they were tasked to do, seeing as there was little time to make last minute changes when all preparations were set and done. Multitasking was key and perhaps it was the New York culture that influenced the employees to always find something to be busy with. The work hours were extended from eight to twelve hours to allot more time for any possible inconveniences—whether minor or major—that they could encounter throughout the day.

It was only one in the afternoon and yet Akemi might already pass out from the accumulated stress and exhaustion that she was experiencing for the past two weeks. Had you not allowed her to step out from the office and give her space to breathe, she would have suffered from migraine because she was at a point where her own body was giving up on her. But knowing that this laborious effort was only temporary, she was sure that all she needed was a good caffeine boost.

Thankfully, the famous cafe down the street didn’t have many customers, hence she was able to get her usual order of vanilla cinnamon coffee—a great combination of caffeine and sugar rush which was exactly what she needed to spike up all the energy that she had lost this morning.

But how strange would it be to say that maybe coffee wasn’t exactly what woke her up from her lassitude? How wrong was it to say that it was actually a 6 foot tall man with white hair and blue eyes that roused all of her energy back up?

Akemi couldn’t believe her eyes. Walking down the street was Satoru Gojou in the flesh, donning a powder blue long sleeved polo tucked under a gravel gray pants. He was wearing a nice pair of dark retro sunglasses, completely unaware that she was just exiting the cafe when he traipsed the path towards the direction of Hearte’s office. Satoru was still about two blocks away when it finally hit her that his unannounced presence could bring a very problematic distraction for you while you were in the midst of important meetings.

“Satoru!” she called with urgency, keeping up with his pace and grabbing his forearm as she caught up with him. Her heart was beating loud and fast the moment their eyes met again. “H-Hey, what brings you here?”

Even though he was surprised, Satoru smiled at the recognition of Akemi's face. “Hey, so I was right,” he said, visibly in a lighter mood than how you described him this morning. “I knew this is where her office is. She doesn’t wanna tell me where it is.”

She forced a chuckle to ease off the awkwardness. “Well, how’d you get here?”

“My driver knows the address,” he answered and briefly pointed a finger towards the nearest car park, “And I’m pretty sure that’s my wife’s Corvette right there. Am I not supposed to be here or something?”

Yes, you can’t be seen here!

Akemi tugged at his forearm. “Not exactly, well… are you planning to visit her office personally?”

Obviously. She knew that question was stupid to ask, but Satoru still answered with a casual smile on his face. “I just wanted to surprise her because she’s been on edge these days. I don’t know if it’s because she’s sick of taking care of me or what,” he joked, although hinting the hurt in his voice, “She used to visit my office back then and her presence helped relieve my stress, so I thought I should do the same thing to show my support.”

The problem was, Akemi knew that this would only be more destructive than helpful despite his good intentions in visiting. You couldn’t even be bothered to speak to anyone else except for those who were listed on your schedule for the day. Plus, Satoru’s appearance could only lead for more rumors to grow in and out of the office. Everyone was aware that the Creston heiress, Y/N L/N, was engaged to Toji Zen’in, and if people see your adulterous ex-husband visiting your office, then that could once again attract the media outlets and paparazzi that had already left you alone.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she softly advised, moving her hand to clutch his arm. “I’m sorry. She’s really busy right now and she can’t afford to talk to anyone. Believe me, I can’t even talk to her.”

Disappointment casted his face. “Is that so?”

God, she felt really bad for doing this to him, but this was for the best. “You can still spend time with her at home, right?” She tried to alleviate his mopes by squeezing his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell her you paid a visit. I’m sure she’ll be happy.”

Surprisingly, he didn’t insist further and just backed off. “Yeah, I guess…” he trailed off, handing the bouquet of red and white roses to Akemi. “Can you just hand her this, then?”

She must have been so surprised to see Gojou that she didn’t even notice the gorgeous bouquet that he was carrying on his other hand. The flower arrangement was so elegant that it managed to bring sparkles in her eyes. “Oh, wow. They’re so beautiful! She’s gonna love it.”

Satoru seemed to like the reaction he got out of her. “Do you want it?” he offered, beaming at the sight of her wide eyes. “It’s all yours. Consider it my gift for visiting me in the hospital even though you were busy. I really appreciated it when you did that.”

“But how about Y/N?” she asked, luxuriating from the scent of the flowers while feeling the unusual fluttering in her heart.

“It’s okay. I’ll get her a new one when she goes home,” he assured, “She isn’t really into flowers, anyway.”

“Okay, then. Thank you for the flowers.” Akemi sent him a grateful smile and squeezed his soft hand one last time. “You look extremely handsome when you’re all dressed up, by the way. I’m surprised.”

A soft chuckle managed to slither out of his attractive lips. “You look nice yourself, too. I like the office girl ensemble.”

Admittedly, it had been quite a while since she last received a compliment from an attractive man, so it was normal for Akemi to indulge herself from that small compliment she received because there was no harm done at all. She was simply feeling appreciated and she could have felt the same way if any other man gave her the same words. With all this in mind, she figured that she wasn’t wrong for feeling felicitous over it. It was also enough to brighten her day, because when she returned to the fashion studio after Gojou had finally left, she was all smiles as she entered her office and immediately placed her fresh bouquet on top of her desk.

“Wow, they look gorgeous, Ms. Hirai,” gushed Nobara who walked in, probably out of an order you gave. “From your boyfriend? It’s so romantic.”

“No, not really.” Akemi's lips formed an upward curve, but she still denied it, nonetheless. “Just… someone.”

Personal matters aside, she was now back to business and the hectic day was still a long way from being over. Stress was very much evident on your face when Akemi stepped inside the conference room with you, worried that you weren’t going to last this day without collapsing. Still, she had to tell you about Gojou regardless of how you might react to it because it was her promise to be transparent about her interactions with him.

“He came to visit you,” was how she introduced the news, but you barely looked up as your eyes were glued on the fashion mood board for the collection. “I told him he can’t go inside because you’re busy.”

It took you another minute to acknowledge Akemi. “Who? Toji?”

“No, Satoru,” she clarified, finding it quite funny how you had another man in mind. “He had his driver take him here and said he wanted to surprise you, but I know you wouldn’t want that.”

Only at the utterance of your ex-husband’s name did you finally pay attention to her. “He went here for real?” Your question was accompanied by a sigh of relief. “Thanks for handling the situation, Akemi. I just have a lot on my plate right now. Did he say anything else?”

She took the seat next to you and swiveled on her chair. “Hmm… Oh, he did mention that you’re probably sick of taking care of him. I don’t know, he’s kinda sulking about it.”

“God.” You palmed your face as if rubbing it could erase the stress on your visage. “I’m feeling nauseous. He thinks we have problems because I’ve been rejecting his advances.”

“Well, technically, you guys do have problems,” she reminded, trying to lighten the situation.

You matched her energy, at least. “Yeah, technically.”

Out of curiosity, Akemi asked, “Are you planning to go home right away after work? To talk to him and all that.”

“No, I already told Ieiri I’ll meet up with her. She’s having doubts about her wedding with Suguru so I have to try and convince her not to be pressured because of us. I don’t wanna ruin another marriage just because mine failed. Twice.”

“Mom, did Y/N and I have problems before the accident?”

Gojou just couldn’t help it anymore. His curiosity was gnawing at his chest, torturing his mind with questions that he couldn’t even answer because his stupid brain couldn’t recall the memories he had lost. His best option was to call his mother to bring some light to his dilemma, hoping that she could offer any form of help to enlighten him about the situation.

“Why’d you ask, darling?” his mom spoke sweetly on the other end of the line. “Did she start an argument with you?”

“No, just generally curious.” He lazed at the couch with Sachiro on his lap, watching an episode of Sesame Street while waiting for you to come home. His toddler was all focused on the TV screen as his favorite red muppet showed up exercising its infamous use of illeism. So while the little boy was distracted, Satoru decided to open up to his mom. “Do you think Y/N still loves me, Mom? Or did it fade over time?”

This question was mostly rooting from the fact that he couldn’t see the same smitten eyes that used to look at him no matter how harsh and callous he had been. Unfortunately, his mother couldn’t provide a yes or no. “You need to talk to her about it, honey. I can’t speak for her. All I know is you already did your best to be a loving husband.”

He sighed. “Maybe she’s just feeling burdened ‘cause she has to look after me. She’s already juggling with her work, Sachiro, and now me.”

There was silence for a moment and he even had to check the caller ID to see if the call was still on-going. “Do you wanna live with me and bring Sachiro with you? I can take care of you both since Y/N seems like she can’t be bothered.”

“No, I didn't mean it that way.” Satoru kissed his son’s head while talking to his mother on the phone. “I wanna stay with my wife no matter what.”

Besides, once Gojou was given the permission from his doctor to work again, he might end up being twice as busy as you, so the lack of time you could provide now was reasonable. You were both CEOs of your respective companies, and while that label was prestigious for a powerful couple like yourselves, the downside to it was the limited time that you could spend together as a family.

In spite of that, he was so damn proud of you and the confidence you had obtained from once being a humble designer to an up-and-coming creative director. He believed in your potential and he was a witness to your growth, so he wanted nothing more but to express his support for you in every way he could.

But how could he when you refused to even acknowledge his presence in your office?

And he wasn’t going to lie, the whole shower incident was still upsetting because he wanted to share that intimate moment with you, but you avoided him like a plague that you were dying to escape from. It didn’t just bruise his ego—it also made him wonder if anything changed with your sexual compatibility. Or could it be just marital ennui? He heard some couples go through that phase after a few years of getting married, so this could be something as simple as that.

Though, if you asked him, that ennui didn’t come from his side because he could still feel the same excitement at seeing you around. His heart still skipped a beat whenever you were at arms length, and now he was experiencing the same ecstasy when you came home that night to join your husband and your son in time for dinner.

And yet, for all its worth, you just felt strangely different. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but something about you wasn’t the same as how he last remembered it. There was little to no passion in your eyes. Little to no love in your words. You were speaking to him mechanically and he realized that this might have been the same treatment you had experienced in your first few months of being married.

Your main priority was obviously Sachiro and he wasn’t going to get jealous over his own son for fuck’s sake, but sometimes he wished you gave him the same attention. It was starting to feel like you and your son had your own world while Satoru was an extra that wasn’t entirely needed in the scene. But even at that, he stayed by your side and did his very best to be a part of this domestic bubble as the head of your family.

“Mama, can you sing for Sachi?” Satoru’s carbon copy ran towards the king-sized bed, dressed in his fish-printed cyan pajamas as he entered his parents’ bedroom. “Please, mommy.”

You were just getting ready for bed by then. “Okay, mommy will sing for you.”

The thought made Satoru feel all mushy inside. “Do you sing for him every night, babe?”

“I do,” you answered, carrying your son and reaching for the milk bottle that you had already prepared atop the bedside table. “He sleeps better when I sing to him.”

Apparently, the designated bedtime lullaby was a classic song and God knows how weak it made Gojou inside to hold his wife and his son in his arms under the duvet.

“Night night, Dada.” Sachiro leaned in to kiss his cheek and proceeded to do the same to his mother before positioning himself in between. “Night night, Mama.”

“Good night, my baby.” You kissed him on the forehead, brushing the hair out of his face before you started singing in a soft, soothing voice. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are.”

He loved you. He loved you so much his heart could burst. He loved you so much that it was physically hurting him to know that he once hurt you. He loved you so much that he couldn’t imagine having a moment like this with anyone else. Despite the obvious distance you were placing on him, Satoru still couldn’t find it in himself to be away from you. His heart yearned for you. His soul sought for you.

With the amount of affection he had been dying to show, he could only spend the next hour watching you hug Sachiro in your arms while your eyelids were falling heavy. He knew he should have had that ‘talk’ with you to discuss whatever was putting a strain in your marriage, but seeing as you were too exhausted to function, he decided that it was best to leave it be for tonight.

“Good night. Sleep tight,” he mumbled, kissing your forehead. “I love you.”

And in a half-conscious state, you managed to reply before succumbing to a good night's sleep. “I love you.”

Satoru wondered why he was so internally joyous as if it was his first time hearing those three words. But while he should be feeling all the satisfying emotions from that, why did it feel like those three words were meant for someone else?

He should have seen it coming.

Because when he grabbed the buzzing phone on the nightstand thinking it was his, he nearly crushed the gadget with his hand after seeing the message written on the screen.

Toji: I’m sure we were safe, but get a pregnancy test if the symptoms persist. Let’s talk tomorrow.

[fiction-box]

So I just noticed your most recent request (the Felix/Sylvain learning magic one). I was wondering if I could see the reverse? But like not taking place in the same story, if that makes sense. Like the reader (I'd prefer a male one) wanting to learn how to wield physical weapons to protect himself better so he asks Felix and/or Sylvain for help, maybe Ashe for bows as well cause he's a cinnamon roll

As stated in my rules, I only do two characters per request. From the way your ask is written, I prioritized Felix and Sylvain. If you like it, though, then please feel free to send in a separate ask for Ashe! I do this for time reasons and to spice things up (writing 3 fics back-to-back with the same concept without a break is a little draining.).

But aside from that, I'm glad you liked the other one! I have fallen in love with your concept just as much, but my goodness! This took me far longer to complete than I am happy to admit. I am aware that my main issue was synthesizing your request to a male reader, as I find them a little difficult to write for.

Regardless, I want you to love what I came up with! Requests are open, everyone, so don't be shy!

The stories will be continued under the cut.

Felix:

As you pushed open the doors to the training grounds, you weren’t surprised to find the expansive room was almost empty. The afternoon had turned to night, and most of your classmates were either wrapping up in the dining hall or preparing to rest.

Most of them.

"Training again, Felix?"

The blue-haired noble didn’t break his routine, cutting through the training dummies with the precision of a master. It wasn’t hard to admit that his skills were impressive for his age. Truly, the metal seemed to be a natural extension of his own arm.

"What?” he called, “Have you come to drag me elsewhere?"

"Actually, I was hoping I could spar with you."

At this, Felix dropped his sword arm to his side. He turned to you, raising a brow.

“Aren’t you usually preparing for bed at this time? You know that a quick skirmish isn’t going to chase me out of here any sooner, and I’m not about to waste my time with someone who isn’t at the top of their game.”

You let out a laugh, “Trust me, sleep is the last thing on my mind.”

It wasn’t quite true, you were definitely a little tired. Sleep wasn’t an option right now, though. You knew you needed to be here, but as soon as you entered the room, you forgot what you came for. That seemed to be happening a lot lately.

It has something to do with Felix, was all you remembered. Useful, as it meant you could keep him here until your memory returned. You hoped it would soon, lest you spend half the night with your feet on the ground.

“What are you waiting on, a map?” He began to move the practice dummy he had previously created a considerable dent in, “Go grab a weapon, unless you intend to fight with your fists.”

Migrating to the rack by the wall, you picked up an axe that looked as though it were in better condition than those around it.

Wrong. It has something to do with this. The axe is wrong.

Great. This was like trying to solve a puzzle whose final picture was blank. The answer was literally right in front of you, you could swear it! But then what were you meant to fight him with? A lance? You didn’t know how to use too many of the weapons within your line of sigh-

“You’ve been staring at that axe for about a minute now. Are you sure you’re not tired?”

Walking back towards him, your focus was entirely on the hatchet in your hand, “I swear, I’m not. I just…nevermind. Let’s do this.”

“Good, just don’t let it get in the way of our training,” the swordsman approached you, already pulling out a coin from his pocket.

“Oh don’t worry, you’re still getting your ass kicked. I call heads, by the way.”

The question in Felix’s eyes left him at your last remark. The coin was flipped, and sure enough, it landed on heads. You would be the first to attack, leaving Felix to begin in a defensive stance.

Both of you moved a few paces away from one another. The axe was familiar in your hands, but it felt wrong tonight as you placed your grip on the wooden base. This was an easy problem to overcome, you knew, as a simple feeling couldn’t detriment your performance too much. Still…

“Ready.” you nodded.

Felix echoed your confirmation once he had taken a more athletic pose, and the first bout began.

You charged forward, a plan in your head as you swung your axe over your head and down onto Felix. He leapt back, then changed his momentum towards you. The blade of his sword slashed once, then twice as you dodged backwards both times. The blade of your own weapon was still on the ground where it had landed earlier, your grip on the pole keeping it exactly where you wanted it to be.

Once more you rushed at him, only this time, you spun the blade 180 degrees on the floor and brought it up and forward. With your momentum charging the upsweep of the wooden blade, Felix didn’t have the time to dodge out of the way. It clipped him in the arm, where his shoulder was attached to it.

“Point,” he called.

Wordlessly, you walked past each other to switch positions. It was your turn to defend from his assault.

“Ready.”

“Ready.”

You didn’t have time to get a full breath in before Felix came forward. He copied your first movement, cutting downward as you chose to defend with the pole of your axe. Successfully blocking his attack, you pushed him back by thrusting the pole that had halted his sword outward.

Unfortunately, he caught his balance before you did. His fast impulse let him drive his sword forward into your chest. Your inability to lower your axe and reset into an athletic stance left you off your center.

His sword struck true, though you could sense he had let up enough of his momentum so as not to knock you over at its poke.

“Point,” you stated.

By the goddess, point you idiot!

Finally, you remembered! Bringing your hatchet with you back to the weapon rack, you exchanged it for a wooden sword hanging on the metal stand.

This did not go unnoticed by Felix.

“...”

“...something wro-?”

“Are you mocking me?” he questioned. The face of the future Duke had contorted into one of disgust.

“No, not at all! This is what was nagging me since I entered. I’m meant to take the certification exam for the Hero class in a few days, though I’m nowhere near ready. I know my way with an axe, but my skills with the sword could use some work. I’ve attended a couple of seminars, so I came here tonight in hopes of actually practicing,” you assured him.

“A smart idea. You can only learn so much without practical application,” he agreed. “You’re not going to get anywhere holding it like that, though.”

Swiftly, Felix closed the distance between you, “Hold your sword out.”

You did so, paying close attention as he adjusted your grip. It felt more natural already.

“Since your main weapon will be the axe, I doubt they’ll care too much about how you attack with it. Just as long as you can block, defend, and dodge effectively, you’ll pass. It takes a certain level of skill to do even that, though.”

“Right.”

He took a few steps back, and you immediately recognized his offensive pose, “I’ll take it easy on you these first few times; it’s more important that you work on applying your fundamentals, which you should have picked up from those seminars, than for you to adapt to countering my style. Ready when you are.”

“Alright. Ready.”

Most of the time, when he attacked, it was all about reading the angle of his sword and countering it appropriately. You were strong from your hatchet training, so sustaining the blocks was child's play. Switching the advantage came harder to you, though. To push back and then add a strike of your own was incredibly difficult while enforcing defenses.

It took a few rounds and a lot of bruises, but you eventually fell into better defensive habits with the sword. You were nowhere near Felix's level (even though you knew he was taking it easy on you, it felt like he was toying with you the whole time), but you found yourself much more assured in your base skillset.

"That's enough for tonight. It won’t do either of us any good if we keep sparring when we ought to sleep,” Felix commented, crossing the room and putting his wooden sword into a sheath that had been discarded on the ground.

A single, stark laugh left you, “Never thought I’d hear you of all people saying- Wait, that’s yours?”

“Is there a problem?”

“I just…didn’t think you’d have brought a wooden sword of all things.”

The swordsman raised a brow, then approached you, “Give me the one you’re holding.”

You did, easily. Then, when Felix took his own wooden blade from its casing, he held it out to you.

Taking it, a small wave of surprise washed over you once you realized it was weighted.

So this must be how he remained so agile when he used a real blade.

“What did I expect?” you traded weapons again. Then, you made your way to the rack on the wall to return your borrowed, glorified stick.

Sheathing it for the final time that night, Felix headed to the door while you were still messing around with fitting the sword back into its place.

Before he could leave, you made sure to call out to him. 

“Felix?” you watched his attention snap back to you. “Thanks. You know, for helping me figure this out.”

“Tch, we’ll need to work longer than just one night to fix all that.”

“Ouch. Feel free to lay it on gently, next time.”

“Then save your thanks for after you pass the exam. Besides, who said I was doing it just for you?” he turned to go once more, “Prepare yourself. When I’m done with you, you’ll be one hell of a training partner.”

The doors to the training grounds shut with a resounding echo. You sighed, finally fitting your sword onto the rack. Then, you walked the path back to your dorm.

But as your head made it to your pillow, sleep was hesitant to claim your racing thoughts. Felix’s last words to you were the promise of a trial by fire.

You hoped passing the exam would be worth the price of all the burns.

Sylvain:

“Hey, Sylvain. Mind if I borrow you for a sec?”

You dragged him away from his conversation, the two women he was talking to clearly having begun to turn hostile. You didn’t know what the philanderer had said to them, but you knew it wasn’t good if they were looking at him like that.

“Yeah, we might wanna go a little faster,” Sylvain recommended under his breath.

After some casual speed-walking, you both wound up outside the stables. Much to your chagrin, he actually seemed proud of himself. Some people just didn’t learn, you supposed.

“Thanks for getting me out of there. So, was there something you needed?”

“Yes, actually,” you chose to ignore that he believed you would pull him out of his own mess just to be nice, “I’m working on becoming a dark knight. I’ve got the magic part down, and I’m good enough at the equestrian portion to know I’ll pass. It’s the lance I really need help with.”

“So you came to me?” he laughed. “What, wouldn’t you rather have Dimitri or Ingrid training you? I’m no good-”

“Don’t even try it; you’re not worming your way out of this one. You’re far from last place in your lance skills and you know it. Besides, you owe me a favor.”

He raised a brow, “That still doesn’t explain why you chose me over Dimitri.”

“If it really matters that much to you, I can’t choose Dimitri. His crest supplies most of his strength, so I didn’t think he’d be the best fit for a teacher. Ingrid and Ashe would be okay, but they’re both out on a mission, right now.”

“So in other words, I'm your last pick.”

“Hey, I could’ve waited for them to return if I wanted. I’m in no rush to take the exam until I’m certain I’ll pass,” you countered.

“Then…I’m your first pick?”

You lowered your brows, “Get over yourself and help me.”

The two of you made your way down to the training grounds. On the way, Sylvain kept looking around as though he expected those two women to jump out at any moment.

“Relax. I doubt they’d go train of all things after that encounter. Your reputation might take a small hit, though.”

“You mean to suggest it’ll get worse than it already is?”

You conceded at that point. To tell the truth, you had no idea how Sylvain was still able to pick up women, what with the gossip and rumors attached to him.

Once the doors were shut behind you, Sylvain relaxed a bit more. He instructed you to grab a practice dummy and set it up in the middle of the area. However, once the job was done, the red-headed noble was nowhere to be seen.

I swear to the Goddess, if he ditched m-

A shout of surprise left your throat as you turned around to the sound of a loud thud behind you.

Sylvain laughed, “Woah, didn’t mean to scare you! Everything’s ready now.”

Looking to the ground, you identified a large wooden object in front of your training partner. It wasn’t there before, so it was probably what made the noise.

“Okay…?” you questioned, “What do we do with the battering ram?”

“Oh. That’s your new lance.”

That’s a funny joke. How the hell am I supposed to lift that thing?

You gave him a strange look, “You’re kidding, right?”

He stretched his arms out, resting them behind his neck, “Nope. That’s how my father made me train. He even got in contact with Rhea to make sure at least one of these would be here for me.”

“Seriously?”

You were beginning to have second thoughts about this whole thing, but you were the one that asked him for help. If he was willing to give it to you, you were taking it.

“Alright, then. What do I need to do?”

The Gautier heir picked up the ram with ease, walking over to the training dummy to demonstrate.

With him talking you through it, you pieced together that the plan was for you to stab with the ram, then swipe horizontally both ways before finally swiping vertically both ways. Each portion of the exercise was to be repeated twenty times.

“Go ahead, give it a try.”

Thudding on the ground once more when he set it down, the battering ram lied in wait as you approached it.

But even picking it up was a challenge. Both of your hands were on the same handle as you yanked upwards to no avail.

“Sylvain, there’s no way I can lift this.”

A huff of air left his nose in a chuckle, “Probably should’ve guessed that. No offense.”

“Don’t sweat it. That’s why I'm here, after all. Any other ideas?” you asked.

“No, no, this could work. Here, you take the back handle and I’ll hang onto the front.”

Together, you managed to lift it, though you were surprised at how much of the work you felt yourself doing.

Sylvain guided the direction of your swing while you did the actual movement. It was a pretty effective system, if you were in any position to say, and you could really feel it in your arms. Nonetheless, you refused to let up. The two of you went through the motions until all of the reps were finished. After your first set, however, a short break was in order.

“Of course, this won’t just be a one day thing. It’ll take a couple weekends to really get results. Feel free to let me know when you need help, and I’ll find time to make it down here to work with you,” he offered.

So it was. Over the next week, you both made it a habit to train with each other after lunch. Eventually, you were able to get through the routine without him. He would still be sure to make an appearance, but at this point, you weren’t exactly sure why.

Once you felt closer to ready, the two of you met up about three days before you were scheduled to take the exam. This time, Sylvain handed you one of the practice lances and instructed you to do the same exercise.

Immediately, you noticed an improvement. The motions were so much faster, and your hits had become so much stronger than before.

It seemed your “teacher” noticed it, too.

“Great, now let’s put it to some real use.”

Sylvain picked up a wooden lance of his own while you moved away from the training dummy.

“Go easy on me, yeah?” you laughed. “I’m not exactly used to this new strength, yet.”

“Don’t worry, my crest won’t activate during something like regular sparring.”

You noticed his defensive stance. He was prepared for you to attack.

Best not to keep him waiting.

Adjusting your grip, you made your way over to him. You moved your arm to act out a horizontal swiping motion, but you didn’t actually go through with it. Reading his backwards dodge easily, you didn’t let up on your charge until after he had caught his jump. Then, you used your momentum to poke forward.

“Agh-! Yup, that one’s definitely yours,” he grunted in suppressed pain, “My fault for anticipating, though.”

“You good to go again, or…?”

Sylvain plastered on a grin, “Nah, I’ll be fine. I can handle a little bruise.”

If he didn’t want to do anything about it, you certainly weren’t going to force him anywhere. Round two it was.

This time, you both went back and forth for a bit until the poles of your lances were locked in a stalemate. You were so focused that you didn’t notice Sylvain stick his leg out until he had swept your feet from beneath you.

Thinking fast (as mages always did to avoid getting hit), you used the energy of falling to create the momentum that allowed you to roll away from him. Getting up fast was going to be the key to winning this bout.

Not a second too soon, you were on your feet and swinging your lace around your body until it halted just before hitting Sylvain’s side, who was still running toward you. He noticed immediately and stopped his advance.

“That’s your point, too. A bit unconventional, and I have no idea how you’ll recreate that on a test…”

“Well there’s no way I can control what happens on the test, right? If it’s just sparring, then sparring practice is the best I can do.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Sylvain said matter-of-factly. “One more, or should we call it a day?”

You recalled how you jabbed at him square in the chest during your first bout, and then how you just barely managed to avoid hitting him in the second.

“I’m good,” you nodded. “I’m a bit tired today. Besides, there’s always tomorrow.”

“Sure. Well then, see you here again tomorrow.”

He left you behind to clean everything up, but you didn’t blame him. He probably would have given away how bad his injury was if he tried to bend over anyway. Classic Sylvain, who could never manage to fool anyone but himself.

Placing the lances back where they were meant to be stored, your thoughts turned to the future. The exam that had once felt like a huge barrier now looked merely like a step on a staircase. You knew you had Sylvain to thank for that.

Maybe you’d get to it eventually, but for now, you’d stick to showing your thanks in other ways. Whether he noticed it or not.

[luveline]

summer shower [Fred Weasley x reader]

Summary: Fred makes your asthma play up.

Tags: reader-insert, fluff, friends-to-lovers, pining, mutual pining

word count: 1.3k

When you were just turning 21 years old, you met a boy. He was in his third year to your second of university, funny as could be, and beautiful.

Fred Weasley was a man of many secrets, which you'd come to accept the longer you'd known him. You had no idea where he was from, where his parents lived, or even if he had any family. You didn't know where he'd gone to school before this. You certainly didn't know why he liked pumpkin pie so much!

There were many things you did know.

His eyes turned from brown to almost black in the sun, superheated and lovely. He squinted one eye against the sun when you lounged in the courtyards in an endearing attempt to always keep an eye on your face. He never crushed flowers when he walked and he always trapped spiders in a cup with a piece of card instead of killing them, seeming endlessly bemused at the small creatures.

It was a warm summers day. You were trying your hardest not to smile as he lay in the grass. Your friends had all departed, claiming headaches and essays that needed to be submitted, though you thought these were all just white lies to allow you some alone time.

It didn't matter. No amount of free time would finish the game between the two of you. Well, you hoped it was a game: Fred pretended he didn't fancy you and you pretended you didn't fancy him.

You shared a tenderness with him that was unlike any relationship in your life.

He was smirking up at you.

"What?" You asked, pouting playfully.

"You look like you're trying to solve world hunger," he said through a grin.

You shook your head, fixing your gaze back down on the book in your lap.

"Maybe one day," you said without looking up.

Fred laughed. It was a perfect laugh, infectious and happy. You smiled despite your best efforts not to.

The pages were thin between your fingers, almost a thousand condensed into a 3 inch textbook for your course. The tip of your pencil rested against the page, though sometimes it felt appropriate to bring it to your mouth, contemplative. Fred watched silently as you underlined and questioned the subject, only quirkiness an eyebrow as your frustration became obvious.

"I don't understand," you admitted finally, "how that is relevant to anything. Look at this!"

You poked your pencil angrily at the figure in question. Fred's eyebrows creased as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

"Doll, you know I don't understand a lick of it."

You sighed, closing the textbook mournfully. It didn't surprise you that Fred couldn't understand, you couldn't understand and you were actually taking the course for the last two and a half years. He was doing a completely different subject.

You threw yourself down flat, much too close to where Fred himself lay on the grass, knocking the air out of your lungs. You tried not to get too wound up, worried any agitation would cause a flare up.

You'd had a very bad asthma attack only a few days ago and had spent a day or two feeling very fragile and sorry for yourself. You didn't want a repeat.

The grass was cold and a little damp from the early morning dew.

You nibbled at your lip, searching the sky for something it couldn't give.

Fred was watching you.

"Oh my god! What do you want, you hooligan?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "You looked at me."

"You were looking at me!"

"Doesn't sound true. Falsehoods of such a nature are unkindly and uncouth."

"You're uncouth!"

"Yeah?" Fred asked, eyes hot.

Your mouth dried up. He was especially tempting like this, looking all homegrown and hand spun. His hair was lightened by the sun cover, strawberry blonde against his tanned and freckled face. Tanned now only after months of suffering sun burn miserably.

"I know what you're thinking." He said. You paid close attention to his mouth.

"Which is?"

"How did I get to be so devilishly handsome? Honestly, it's a question I ask myself often."

You withheld the urge to turn your face into the earth and scream.

He wasn't entirely wrong. You had been thinking about his good looks.

"How did you know?" You asked. You'd tried for bravado, for sarcasm, but it came out wrong. A little too sincere. You cleared your throat.

Fred pushed up onto an elbow so that he was looking down into your face. He studied the slope of your nose and the laugh lines you'd slowly gathered since meeting him. He reached forward, too slowly, to place the pads of his fingers gently on your cheek. You could pinpoint the exact moment he rested his palm on your skin.

He smiled gently. You beamed.

"Can I ask you something?"

You tried to read his face, preemptively guess the question.

"When do you ask my permission?"

"It's the kind of thing that requires two consenting parties."

Your mouth quirked into a waiting grin. Fred's ears grew red.

"Not that."

"Fred Weasley, embarassed. Somebody call the news."

He didn't answer, pushing the hair out of your face in a repetitive motion that sent tingles down your spine and a hot flush to your tummy.

You tried not to read into it, closing your eyes against the waves of excitement and happiness roiling through you. You didn't permit yourself to think of what it meant, because what else could it mean? Friends don't do the things you both did. Friends didn't gaze down into your face with unspoken feelings.

You lay there for some time, the excitement slowly turning to bone deep contentment, feeling yourself drift into an almost sleep. The breeze was soft and sweet, the ground beneath you cushioned by grass, and the handsome man hovering above you only sweetened the deal.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm," you said, tilting your chin to prompt him to continue.

"Will you look at me a second?

You opened your eyes obligingly.

"I wanted to ask you, do you -"

He cut himself off, peering up into the sky. You frowned, only to feel the unwelcome spatter of heavy sudden rain drops on your face.

You gasped, rushing to collect all of your things into your bag. Your textbook was already dampening by the time you'd fit it all. Fred pulled you up and began to run. You followed, laughing and struggling to be heard over the summer shower.

By the time you reached his dorm building, both of you were breathing hard. Fred said something through a laugh. You struggled to answer, hands on your knees.

"Y/N?"

Despite having asthma all your life and suffering many attacks, each time felt just as urgent and scary as the first.

Your eyes filled with tears.

"You're okay! You're okay. Where's your pump, huh? In your bag?"

He didn't wait for an answer, reaching into your bag as you gasped, though insistent on leaving one arm on your arm. The pressure was reassuring.

You tried to manage your breathing as you always did, gasping and gasping and gasping.

"Here, princess. Open up," Fred said.

You covered the hand he held your inhaler with your own, clamping down on his hand so hard you could feel the fine bones under his skin.

It took a while for you to settle down, thought this attack wasn't anywhere as bad as the one you'd had days ago.

"My hero," you coughed out, lungs aching.

Fred grimaced. "I'll always rescue you, my femme fatale."

"Misogynist."

"You have paper lungs, my love."

"That I do, Freddie. That I do."

Fred rubbed your back, insisting on carrying you up the steps to his dorm room. If you acted much more frail than you felt, it was nobodies business but yours and Fred's.

[watchmegetobsessed]

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part One (Harry Styles)

a/n: oh my god i am sooo thankful for the love the masterlist got with just so little info about the story! it means so much to me and i really hope i won’t disappoint you with this story! i was planning to post the first part on tuesday but i got excited bc of all the feedback and reactions and decided to start earlier, so here it is, part one of TLABL, a story im kind of proud of and very happy to share! please drop by my ask box or leave your thoughts on the story, i would love to hear everything from you guys!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11.2k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

“I hope you realize this holds nothing against you, we all love and appreciate you and your work, but we had to face some unexpected problems this past year.”

You sit in front of Claire, your boss completely dumbfounded, not even comprehending what she is saying completely. You came to work this morning absolutely oblivious that today is going to be your last day of work at the daycare you’ve been working at for over two years now.

“I’m sorry, but last time you let us in on the budget you didn’t bring up any complication that might have indicated someone could lose their job, so what possible problem could have come up so abruptly?” you ask with a shocked and nervous chuckle. Part of you kind of hopes this is just some stupid joke she is playing on you, but Claire is not one to make games out of such serious things. Letting out a tired sigh she pushes her reading glasses up to the top of her head into her carefully curled hair.

“Look, I’m really trying not to make a big deal out of it, but we had to make some cuts on the budget. The kitchen and gymnasium renovation was completely unplanned and it kicked us in the butt. We are making some changes about the groups this year and it was made that it can be solved with one less person on the team. I’m sorry it had to be you, but the decision had to be made.”

“But why me?” you press. “There are two people who have been working for a shorter period of time here, didn’t I earn your trust during my time here?”

“It’s not about that, Y/N,” Claire shakes her head.

“Then what is this about?”

“If you are so keen on knowing, we’ve… received a few… complaints.” Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline, this is the first time you’re hearing about it.

“Complaints?”

“Yes. Some parents are not quite the fan of the kind of mentality you are using while teaching the kids.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, feeling all the blood rushing out of your face. This is starting to get way too nasty. Claire pinches the bridge of her nose before leaning onto her desk, clasping her hands together.

“I know that you are quite the free spirit and want to teach the kids about openness and acceptance, but not everyone is as rainbow as you are. Some kids brought the word home about what kind of books you’ve been reading and we’ve gotten a few concerns about you basically promoting the LGBTQ community for the kids.”

“I’m not promoting, I’m trying to teach them to accept everyone just the way they are, how can that upset anyone?!”

“Well, it does. The committee had to make a decision on who we should let go and many agreed that it might be the safest decision to make it be… you.”

You’re about to faint. You are sure you are about to fall off this chair and just black out. How can someone get mad about you reading stories about acceptance and treating everyone equally? What kind of monster can see it as a bad thing? And now you are losing your job over such a stupid thing that you don’t even feel responsible for.

Though you’d love to stay and try to convince Claire to not let you go, you know the decision has been made and if you’re being honest, you don’t feel comfortable anymore working at a place where parents tell you off for teaching important values for their kids. Sadly, but you sign all paperwork about your immediate parting and you leave Claire’s office to pack your stuff.

“Miss Y/N! Miss Y/N!” Izzy, one of the sweetest girls in your group basically launches herself at you, smashing against your legs as she hugs you happily. “Do you want to see what I just painted?” She blinks up at you with her gorgeous green eyes and your heart breaks that you won’t get to see her again.

“Oh, Sweetie. I have to—you know what? Sure. Show me your painting,” you smile at her warmly. You can’t say no to her, not when this is the last time you get to see her.

As you’re cleaning out your locker in the break room, Heather walks in and stops in her tracks, seeing you with your gloomy face as you pack everything into a cardboard box.

“What the hell are you doing?” she questions right away. The two of you have known each other for years now, you did the same master’s programme and somehow ended up working here together, carrying on the friendship you’ve formed through your school years.

“I was… fired,” you sigh, wincing at the words.

“What?! Why?”

“Apparently, we are having some budget problems with all the renovations that was made recently and unbeknownst to me, some parents have been complaining about my openness with kids so I was the lucky one to part ways with.”

“That’s fucking bullshit! The kids adore you, how can someone complain about something like that?”

“Don’t know, ask them if you ever find out who they are,” you mumble under your breath as you shut the now empty locker closed. “I’m sorry we can’t carpool anymore,” you pout at her.

“No fucks given about that, what are you gonna do now?” she asks, seemingly very bummed at the news that you won’t be working at the same place now.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I guess I’ll have to find something new if I don’t want to end up on the streets,” you mumble.

“Oh girl, I’m so sorry,” Heather sighs pulling you into a hug. “Why don’t we go out for drinks on Friday? Everything is on me!”

“Don’t act like I’m already broke, makes me feel like a loser.”

“Sorry,” she scowls. “Just want to brighten you up a little. Meet me at seven at that Mexican place, how does that sound?”

“Stuffing my face with nachos and tequila? Sounds like the best plan I could wish for.”

You waste no time arriving home after your worst day at work. You jump right into the job ads, looking for basically anything that might help you out of this impossible situation. Sending your resume to as many places as possible, you get a few callbacks the next few days, but you only make it to one interview on Friday and that doesn’t go well either. The man who calls in for an open position at a private kindergarten turns out to be a total snob and he doesn’t find your free spirit too fitting with the profile of his institution so you get rejected at the end of the interview.

You head out to meet Heather feeling like shit. You’ve been unemployed for four days, but it’s already breaking your spirits.

“You know what? Clair is a bitch for giving in to the complaints,” Heather slams her fourth shot glass on the table with a grimace. “She should have defended you!”

“I’m sure she just didn’t want to get into any disagreement. Some of the parents donate great amounts to the school and Claire would never risk losing that money,” you sigh rolling your eyes.

“Okay, but she is being very… not inclusive,” she narrows her eyes. “Firing someone for teaching the kids openness? Bullshit.”

“I’m just sad I don’t get to see the kids anymore. They really grew close to my heart.”

“The little fuckers can be so damn cute, almost make me want to have one.” Heather sighs, downing another shot before pulling the nachos closer to her. You laugh at her vulgar reaction, she has always had quite a dirty mouth but somehow she controls herself well around the kids. “How has the job hunting been?”

“Horrible,” you growl in frustration. There are not many that offer a good paycheck and the few that does are these posh places that expect you to treat the kids like they are made out of gold which is ridiculous. That’s not how you raise a kid!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sure something will come up soon. Why don’t you look into nanny jobs, have you thought about that?”

“What do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows, popping some chips into your mouth.

“A lot of people prefer having nannies for their little children, some even want them to move in. My brother’s ex-girlfriend was a live-in nanny for about two years and she earned a shit ton of money, because she didn’t have to pay rent and a good chunk of the food, because the parents just treated her like part of the family and bought groceries for five people instead of four.”

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for that kind of stuff.”

“What, earning money?” Heather scoffs.

“No, living with a stranger.”

“Most of the time the nanny gets like a separated place so it wouldn’t be that bad, but you know what’s good for you. It was just an idea,” she shrugs.

Soon enough you drop any work talk not wanting to ruin the mood. You enjoy some time away from the stress of job hunting and you’re just trying to have fun with your best friend. You start talking about nostalgic memories from college and end up looking up people you graduated with on social media, checking out what they’ve been up to in the past years.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to the restroom quickly, watch out for my drink,” you announce pushing your drink closer to Heather as you head towards the restrooms.

There’s a bit of a line so you stand behind two girls chatting about some cute guy they just met and leaning against the wall you close your eyes for a moment, feeling the drinks hitting you in the head. You’re not used to drinking, haven’t really had the time to get drunk too much lately and it’s saddening to think that now that you’re unemployed, you could black out every day, you wouldn’t have anywhere to show up in the morning.

Getting deep in your thoughts you almost don’t even notice that your phone is buzzing in your pocket. When you finally realize you pull it out of your back pocket and look down at the unknown number with a scowl. You quickly leave your spot in the line and rush out to hear something as you answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I hope I’m not calling at an inconvenient time, I’m Harry Styles and I’m looking to talk to Y/N Y/L/N?” you hear a thick British accent on the other end of the line.

“This is her.”

“Great. Sorry for the late call, I’m Isabelle’s father.”

“Isabelle?” you ask in confusion, the names not really clicking in your head thanks to the shots you’ve been taking.

“Isabelle Styles? Izzy?”

“Oh! Yes! Sorry, yeah. Mr. Styles, what can I help you with?” you ask, not sure why Izzy’s dad would be calling you.

“Well I just recently learned from my daughter that you’re not working at the daycare any longer?” “Uh, yeah. Unfortunately I was fired this Monday…” you awkwardly answer.

“I’m sorry about that. Izzy has been really sad about it, I wanted to ask if you’ve found a new job already?”

“Not yet, I’ve been looking but I haven’t had much luck yet,” you confess.

“In that case I have an offer to make,” he firmly continues and you perk up at his words. “I’ve been thinking about pulling Izzy out of daycare, but I didn’t want to do it until I found someone to take good care of her. You’ve been her absolute favorite and she’s been devastated since you’ve been gone. If you’re up for a job of this kind, I would like to offer you a spot as Izzy’s nanny.”

“Oh!” is all you react, completely not expecting this call.

“I know there are a lot to discuss, but if you’re interested, I would be more than happy to have a chat with you sometime this weekend? To go over the details and see if we can make it work.”

“I, uh… Um, yeah. We can meet, that sounds good. When would it be good for you?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?”

“That can work.”

“Amazing!” he beams. “I’ll send you the address through text if that’s alright for you.”

“Yeah, of course. When should I be there?”

“Would three o’clock suit you?”

“Absolutely,” you nod, stunned at the turn of events.

“Great, thank you so much, and once again, sorry to bother you on your Friday evening. Looking forward to see you tomorrow!”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles, see you soon!”

You get back in line at the bathroom and then make your way back to the table where Heather gives you a puzzled look.

“Did you take a massive shit or something?” she jokes as you take your seat and stare back at her, still in shock.

“No, I had a very interesting call, actually.”

“With who?”

“Um, Izzy Styles’ dad just called and offered me a job as her nanny.”

Heather almost chokes on her drink, coughing at the news. You hand her a napkin as she dries her chin off from her cocktail.

“Harry Styles wants you to be the nanny of his daughter?” she gasps.

“You know Izzy’s dad?”

“Y/N, everyone knows him! He is the sexiest man to walk this planet and not to mention that he is like stupidly rich! Have you not seen him yet?”

“Not really,” you shrug. “Izzy was picked up by an old woman most of the times, I guess I never worked when her dad came for her.”

“That explains why you’re not squirming already,” she scoffs. “That man is like… crazy hot, I’m telling you. I bumped into him one morning when I guess he was dropping Izzy off, the way he said ‘Pardon me, Darling’ made my knees shake,” she tells you, faking an accent that’s nowhere near what Mr. Styles sounded like on the phone.

“Well, I guess I’ll see him for myself. I’m meeting him tomorrow to discuss details,” you shrug and Heather slams her hand on the table.

“Oh my God! You’re gonna work for Harry Fucking Styles! Get ready because your panties will be soaking wet all the time,” she laughs like a hyena.

“Heather, stop!” you shake your head laughing too.

Following Mr. Styles’ call you decide to cut the night shorter than you intended, not wanting to look absolutely wasted when you meet him. Arriving home to your small, one bedroom apartment you take a quick shower before climbing to bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to collect your thoughts. You told Heather you’re not willing to do the whole live-in nanny thing and Mr. Styles might not even want you to live with them, but now that the option is there, you realize it might not be the worst case scenario. Especially since you’re not really swimming in other job offers and you are in desperate need of anything at this point.

Despite having consumed quite some alcohol the previous night, you wake up at a reasonable hour in the morning, finding a text from Mr. Styles about the address you’d have to be going in the afternoon. You make a quick trip to the grocery store and do some chores before you start getting ready for the meeting. You opt for a simple black dress that reaches your knees and pair it with a little funkier, flower printed blazer to bring some color into the outfit.

Punching the address into the GPS you see that it’s taking you to the outer skirt of the city to the neighborhood that’s known to have some quite luxurious estates and you immediately think back to what Heather said about him being ridiculously rich. Driving down the streets in your old Volkswagen you couldn’t stand out more at a place where at least three cars park on the driveways and one of them is a Ferrari or a Porsche.

There’s a massive security gate under the address that’s your destination and it’s left open so you can pull up to the driveway easily. You park next to a fucking Tesla, finding it extremely funny to see your car next to it, but it is what it is. Walking up to the front door you ring the bell as you take a look at the house that can easily considered to be a mansion. Guessing from the outside there are at least about five bedrooms in it and you can only imagine what other luxurious units are squeezed into it.

Soon enough the front door opens and you find yourself staring back at a breathtakingly gorgeous man, wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black suit pants, his chocolate curls falling to his forehead as his emerald eyes fall on you, a warm smile tugging on his lips.

Shit. Heather was fucking right, you think to yourself swallowing hard.

“Miss Y/L/N, it’s so nice to see you. I’m Harry, Izzy’s dad, come on in!” he invites you inside before a short handshake.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Styles.”

“Please, just call me Harry. I don’t like formalities at home,” he asks you as the two of you walk further inside until you arrive to what looks like a living room, but it’s actually the size of your apartment.

“Only if you call me Y/N,” you smile at him and he nods right away.

“Miss Y/N!” you hear a small voice call out and turning around you see Izzy running down the hallway until she throws herself against your legs.

“Oh, hello Sunshine!” you hum, squatting down so you can hug her.

“I missed you!” she pouts, rubbing her eyes.

“I missed you too,” you smile at her, caressing her soft cheeks before standing up. An older lady walks in, the one you’ve seen picking up Izzy. She approaches you with a friendly smile as she extends a hand towards you.

“Hi, I’m Ruth, it’s nice to meet you.” “Y/N, nice to meet you too.”

“Ruth, would you take Izzy outside while I talk to Miss—erm, Y/N here?” Harry requests. Ruth nods and taking Izzy’s hand she lures her outside to look for ladybugs in the backyard and that immediately catches her attention. The two of them leave through the sliding door, giving you and Harry privacy.

“Please, have a seat,” he gestures towards the sectional couch. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you smile at him as he sits in an armchair across you.

The interior of the house is quite cozy, kind of modern with a hint of vintage touches that make it less rigid, a pop of color showing at most corners so it’s not too monochrome. You quite like it.

“Y/N, I once again apologize for calling you at such an inappropriate hour, but I often work late and I wanted to get in touch with you as soon as possible upon hearing the news.”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand.”

“Isabelle mentioned it to me on Thursday that the other workers told her you no longer work at the daycare so I asked around a little yesterday and was informed that they let you go earlier in the week.”

“It was quite sudden for me as well,” you chuckle lightly, feeling a little anxious to talk about it.

“I know it’s not too appropriate, but I asked why they chose you to part ways with and I have to say it’s outraging that some parents are so ignorant and wayward. I’m really sorry this had to be the reason out of everything.”

“Thank you.” It actually feels nice that he thinks the same, this whole firing was ridiculous and you were losing hope in humanity, but Harry is now very much restoring it.

“Let me walk you through what the situation is here and what I was thinking about.” You nod and listen carefully. “I’m president of a record label and it consumes most of my time, I sometimes work sixty hours a week which I know is not ideal and healthy and I’m trying to change it, but it’s not an easy situation. I thought that putting Izzy into daycare was a good idea, but it’s been getting harder to work around her schedule as a single parent with so much work on my hands. Ruth is a family friend who has been helping tremendously with Izzy, but she is not getting any younger and she would like to retire fully and spend more time with her own grandkids. So I’ve been thinking about hiring a nanny for Izzy and try to make her days work around mine while I’m able to do that. She is going to start preschool in little over a year and I want to spend as much time with her as possible, but it’s not easy when the schedule depends on an institution. When she told me about your firing I had the thought that you might be interested in taking the spot as her nanny. She is obsessed with you, wouldn’t stop talking about what you do every day, and I might have also looked into your professional background. I like what I’ve seen and I’m very much into the way you’ve been dealing with the kids at the daycare. Openness is really important and I want Izzy to grow up in an environment that teaches her about being equal and supportive towards each other. I would be more than happy if you’d be the one taking care of Izzy while I’m not available.”

To say the east you’re stunned at how forward and open he was about the offer and his compliment about your professional background is quite flattering. You can tell he is doing an amazing job at raising Izzy as an open and accepting human, she was always one of the nicest and sweetest kids who always made sure to include all her peers in the games you played. And it’s obvious Harry is not just being a hypocrite, his tattooed arm, painted nails and ring clad fingers are not quite what you’d traditionally imagine a man like him wear, but he does it well and clearly doesn’t give a fuck what others might think about it.

Harry continues with how much he thought you’d be earning for the job and you almost choke on your own saliva. It’s almost three times as much as you’ve been earning at the daycare and you’d be able to save a good chunk every month which is quite amazing.

“I have to ask, were you thinking about a situation where I live with you or I’d have to be coming here every day?”

“Well, essentially it would be the easiest for everyone if you moved in. I have plenty of rooms you could choose from and you’d have access to everything else as well, of course, including the home gym, the pool, the sauna and the entertainment room. But I understand if you are not willing to make that commitment. If you choose to live here you wouldn’t be charged anything, naturally.”

This actually sounds like a dream, moving into this luxury mansion from your cramped little apartment and being able to save the money you’ve been paying on rent.

“And what would be the time management? If I moved in it would easily make me fall into a habit of always working, which is not quite ideal,” you point it out.

“Of course,” he nods. “I like to take care of her morning routine so you’d have to start around nine when I leave to the office. If we can make this deal working I’d like her to start taking some extra classes during the day, moving her activities earlier in the day so her afternoons would be free. She takes piano lessons on Mondays and Wednesdays, a swimming instructor comes here on Thursdays and she is taking French lessons every Tuesday and Friday. Everything takes place here, I would reschedule her activities to take place between nine and twelve. You wouldn’t have to worry about her during those times. You’d cover lunch time and then the afternoons. I try to get home between four and six and just work from home if it’s possible so I can be around her. You’d have to only help out whenever I can’t make it home in time I have urgent works that have to be done from home. We could have dinner time together and then her night time routine is my duty again. Ruth is willing to help me out on Saturdays and I spend Sundays with her strictly without any work distraction so you’d have the weekends off unless something comes up. In those cases I would check in with you beforehand and arrange it however it works best for you.”

You’re speechless for a moment. What he just shared doesn’t seem too bad, you might have to work a lot more, but being one on one with just one kid is much easier than dealing with fifteen of them at once. Not to mention that the money is still amazing compared to what you’d have to be doing.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, it’s an amazing offer. Izzy is such a sweet girl, I would be more than happy to take care of her.”

Harry smiles at you warmly, clearly proud of his daughter, as he should be.

“Can I ask for some time to think about it? It would be a huge commitment.” “Of course. Take your time and let me know whatever your decision is.”

“Thank you.”

Harry offers a quick tour in the house regardless, the kitchen is massive, they have a nice dining area with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out to the green slopes of the backyard that seems to be Izzy’s kingdom. She has a playhouse that could almost function as a real one, the pool is filled with floaties for her and she has her own playground further in the back with slides, monkey bars and a swing set. Your assumptions were almost right about the number of bedrooms. Beside Harry’s master and Izzy’s own room there’s one that’s been used by Ruth, one that’s for Harry’s mother and sister for whenever they are staying over and there are three additional rooms now serving as guest bedrooms, one of those would be turned into your room if you chose to move in. The gym seems better than the one you’ve been going whenever you felt like being a little active, the entertainment room has everything you could ever think about for a room this sort of and the sauna is already calling your name. Living and working here might actually feel like a vacation.

“Miss Y/N! Look what I found!” Izzy runs up to you when you and Harry step out to the backyard, holding her pointing finger up. A ladybug is wandering around her tiny finger, not even bothering with the amazed girl that’s inspecting it.

“Wow! How many dots do you see on it?” you ask and she knits her eyebrows together, counting the black dots.

“Five!”

“Yes, good job!” you ruffle her curls as she smiles up at you proudly. She really is an angel, you’ve grown to like her a lot and you would be lying if you said you didn’t get emotional over thinking about never seeing her again. Being able to take care of her and give her the best possible childhood would be such a dream and the chance to do that is right in front of you.

“I’ll be waiting for your call, Y/N,” Harry smiles at you walking you towards the front door.

“Harry, I don’t think you need to do that,” you speak up and see his face fall, he obviously took it the wrong way, thinking that you want to say no to his offer.

“Oh…”

“It’s not that,” you chuckle softly. “I would love to take the job. And if you’re still okay with that, I’d like to move in, it would make everything just so much easier.”

You watch as his expression changes from disappointed to hopeful as he cracks a smile nodding.

“Yeah, the offer is still there. When do you think you can start?”

“How soon do you want to pull Izzy out of daycare?”

“As soon as possible. If I have to I can go in on Monday and do all the paperwork. You could move in sometime during the week maybe?”

“I have to talk to my landlord about my lease, but I’m fine with moving in during the week,” you nod smiling and you can’t help but feel excited.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you so much. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

You discuss a few more details and then you head out, thinking about how the next time you’ll be coming here, you’ll be moving in.

“If this one doesn’t go to the donate box, I’m leaving right now.”

Heather holds up a pair of denim shorts, painted in the colors of the flag of the States. She holds it pinched between her index finger and thumb as if it was something nasty and disgusting

“You know I only bought that for that stupid frat party. I never wore that anywhere else, so you can put it into the donate box.”

“Thank God!” she groans and throws the shorts into said box.

It’s Sunday evening and your place looks like a warzone, boxes taking up the place everywhere as you’re packing your life up to officially move into the Styles mansion. You agreed with Harry to bring over a good chunk of your stuff on Monday and then settle in for real on Tuesday. He is pulling Izzy out of daycare first thing on Monday and you’d stay at home with her for the first time on Wednesday. It’s been a fast paced change, but you couldn’t care less. With the amount Harry is gonna pay you, you’ll be able to save up a good chunk every month, like you always wanted to.

As you finish putting your books away you reach the shelves that contain all your photo albums. Photography has been your passion for a long time. It started as a simple hobby sometime through your freshman year in high school, but in senior year, your photos filled the yearbook and you even did the design of it too. You’ve had a few gigs since then, some weddings and pregnancy shoots and you like to sell your photos individually as well. You wouldn’t have imagined how much a simple nature photo costs.

Flipping through the one on the top, you can’t help the bitter smile on your face as you see the photos from your brother’s 14th birthday three years ago. There are tons of family pictures with you, your brother Trevor and your parents, seemingly being all happy and joyful. Things were different back then and you didn’t see anything coming.

It’s past midnight by the time you more or less finish packing, you’ve filled three big boxes with things to donate so you have significantly less stuff to move to the Styles mansion in the morning. Heather spends the night, but leaves early in the morning since she needs to go to work. The moving van you rented out arrives a little after eleven and the two guys from the moving company helps you load it with about two thirds of your stuff. Harry is at work when you arrive and Izzy is still at the daycare, Ruth is the only one at home, she helps you out even though you tell her not to break a sweat over it.

“Let me help, makes me feel needed,” she chuckles sweetly when you try to get her to stop, but she insists on bringing in some smaller bags and boxes.

You’re still unpacking when Ruth arrives back with Izzy a little after four. You hear her little feet tapping against the floor as she runs down the hallway, bursting into your future room.

“Miss Y/N! You’re here!” she cheers, throwing herself into your arms as you sit on the floor, being the perfect level for the little girl.

“I am! How was your day, little Sunshine?”

“We finger painted and I made a painting for daddy, do you want to see it?”

“Of course!”

Izzy disappears to get her backpack from Ruth who is making her some snacks in the kitchen. She soon returns with her painting, presenting it to you proudly.

“Look! This is me and this is daddy!” she points at the two human-like figures, the only thing giving away who is who is that one of them is bigger than the other one. “And then this is mommy!” she then adds, pointing at a star in the upper corner of the painting and you freeze.

In the midst of everything, you didn’t even have the time to question why Harry is a single parent. To be honest your first guess would have been divorce, but Izzy’s painting is telling you something a lot more tragic.

“It’s beautiful,” you smile at her, trying to hide your surprise at the new information. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Ruth makes sure Izzy is busy while you finish up unpacking and when you’re about to be done, Harry arrives home. Approaching your room even though the door is open he knocks on the doorframe, catching your attention.

“Hello, just wanted to see how things are going. Do you need help with anything? I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to help with the boxes and all…”

“Hi! Oh don’t worry about that, I had plenty of help,” you shrug smiling. “Everything is going fine, thank you.”

“Great. I did all the paperwork today, tomorrow is going to be Izzy’s last day at daycare. You’re still up to start on Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I only have a few things left at home so I’ll be all set by tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much,” he smiles warmly. “And thank you for being so quick about everything. It means a lot to me that I can spend more time with Izzy thanks to you. I really appreciate it.”

“I should be thanking you the opportunity. I wasn’t really drowning in the job offers,” you chuckle making him smile as well. “Please let me know if you want me to change anything, I have a plan I would like to go around with Izzy’s days, but of course, your word is the most important.”

“I trust you to take good care of her during the day. The only thing I want is to have her home when I get home. Ruth couldn’t always pick her up before and I really hated to do the extra trip and pick her up from daycare instead of coming straight home to be with her.”

“Understandable. I’ll make sure to plan accordingly,” you nod smiling.

“Y/N, I want you to feel home as much as possible. This is your place just as much as it is ours now. Izzy and I go grocery shopping every Sunday, it’s kind of a father-daughter thing we do every week. We keep a list on the fridge, feel free to add whatever you need and we’ll get it.”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your lips, because this is such a sweet thing to do, when Harry could easily afford someone to do the work for him. Yet he still uses this time to be with his daughter.

“Yeah, sure, thank you!”

“I’ll get out of your hair now. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. I still have some things to take care of before tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he nods before walking out. He leaves you thinking hard about him. You wonder what really happened to Izzy’s mom and if he is dating someone right now. A man like him is basically a dream to any woman, you doubt he is having a hard time finding a partner, but you haven’t seen any sign of another woman around the house. Guess you’ll have to wait and figure it out yourself.

The apartment is awfully empty on your last night here. When you moved in about a year ago you didn’t think you’d be moving into a mansion from here. You spend the evening cleaning out a bit so you leave the place in good condition. Your landlord was terribly nice about your early leave, you could easily agree that you’d pay for the two more weeks that’s left from the month and that would be all, no extra costs for moving out before your lease was up.

You’re cleaning off the kitchen counter when your phone starts ringing, it’s a video call from your brother.

“Hey there! What’s up?” you ask, propping up the phone on top of the microwave while you move around, doing your thing. Trevor seems to be lying in bed, a black hoodie covering his upper body.

“Hello, just wanted to see how the moving has gone today.”

Despite the ten year age gap between you and Trevor, your relationship couldn’t be better. Probably because you were old enough to see what a blessing a sibling really is when he was born.

“Everything went smoothly. I only have a few stuff to bring over, that can fit into my car tomorrow, so it’s fine.”

“Cool. How is the dude? What was his name again?”

“Harry. Harry Styles.” You see him pull his laptop to his lap and probably searches up Harry’s name before his eyes widen at the screen.

“This dude is big! He is the president of HES Records, they run some of the most popular singers these days.”

“Yeah? I was sure he is a big name judging from his mansion,” you chuckle.

“Have you looked him up yet?”

“Not really.” “Want me to read what’s here about him?”

“Sure,” you hum, continuing to clean while you listen to Trevor.

“Alright. Apparently he is thirty-one, took over the record company when he was just twenty-five because his father wanted to retire early. The number of talents working under the label has doubled since he has taken over and many of his clients have won Grammy Awards. Impressive,” he hums, scrolling down on whatever site he has just found. “He is known to be a private person, the last time he made an appearance… Oh shit…” Trevor breathes out and you turn to your phone with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?”

“Wow, this shit is heavy. It says the last time he made a public appearance was in 2017, not long before his wife was killed in a car accident.”

You freeze, feeling your stomach drop to the floor, immediately thinking back at Izzy’s painting of her family. It very much makes sense why she said the star was her mother, it must be the way Harry explained to her what happened to her mother.

“It happened in 2018, she wasn’t in the fault, a drunk driver ignored the red light and ran into her car at a crossroad. This is terrible, oh God.”

“Poor Izzy, she probably doesn’t even know what really happened.”

“Must have been hard on him, there’s not much about him since then.”

“Can’t blame him for not wanting to be in the spotlight after losing his wife.”

“Yeah.”

Trevor shows you a few pictures of him from years ago, he has always been handsome, but your favorites are the few from the times when he had long hair. He looked so different, like a whole other person, but still, he rocked it perfectly.

Then you show Trevor around in the empty apartment before loving to the couch, turning all your attention to him.

“How have things been?” you ask with a sigh. Trevor purses his lips and shrugs.

“Other than the constant screaming matches on the phone and endless fights every time dad comes over for more of his stuff? Everything is rainbows and butterflies.”

“Is it really that bad?” you scowl.

“It’s like they never run out of stuff to throw at each other, but I feel like this much couldn’t happen even in their twenty-eight years together,” he scoffs making you chuckle.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle of all that.”

“It’s like payback,” he hums and you give him a puzzled look. “You had it bad growing up for being the surprise baby, making them teen parents. Then I came at a reasonable time, they already knew the drill, but now that you’re out of the house I’m getting all the shit, having to deal with their divorce.”

“I’m really sorry, Trev,” you sigh, feeling guilty that he is all alone at home.

“It’s fine, I don’t blame you,” he shrugs. “But you could make it better if you asked your millionaire boss if I could hang out at his house sometimes.” He grins at you slyly and you roll your eyes. Of course he is already thinking about using you for his own good!

“I don’t want to push the boundaries just yet, but I’ll see what I can do.”

You talk a little more about school and what he’s been up to with his friends before ending the call. You take a shower and go to bed right away, feeling extremely worn out from all the packing you’ve done through the day.

The next day you pack the remainder of your stuff into your car and then your landlord comes over to do a checkup, though he fully trusts you took good care of the place.

“Again, thank you for your understanding, I didn’t plan to leave so early, but it just kinda came up,” you tell him, handing him over your keys.

“Don’t worry about it. I hope your new place will treat you right,” he smiles kindly at you.

You chat a little longer before you leave and head over to your new home. Once again, Ruth is the only one home and being the angel that she is, she helps you to carry your stuff up from the car before leaving to get Izzy from daycare. Since there’s not much left to unpack you finish quite fast, leaving you some extra time alone in the house. Walking around you try to learn your way around, still finding it a bit of a maze. You find Harry’s home office’s door open and after a bit of hesitation you step inside, just taking a look around. Yeah, it’s kind of a nosy thing to do, but you couldn’t help yourself.

His space is quite clear, he keeps his stuff neatly organized. Certificates and plaques are hung up on the wall, showing off his many successes in the business. There’s a huge bookcase near his desk and there you see some family photos… ones that include his late wife as well.

She was beautiful. There’s a picture of the three of them in the hospital from the day Izzy was born, Harry has an arm around his wife’s shoulders who is holding baby Izzy, both of them radiating happiness as they just become parents. Your heart breaks when you see the photo next to it, it’s just Harry and her in Paris, the Eiffel tower standing tall behind them as they are grinning widely at each other, foreheads touching. Harry has his arms wrapped around her slim figure while she is hugging his neck. They look so happy and in love, like they were always meant to be with each other. Knowing what tragedy hit them is just hard to process even for you, who never even met the woman.

You hear the front door open and Izzy is laughing at something, so you rush out before anyone could catch you snooping around.

“Hi Miss Y/N!” she chirps upon seeing you when you meet them in the living room.

“Izzy, you don’t have to call me Miss Y/N, Y/N is perfectly fine,” you smile at her, caressing her rosy cheeks.

“Okay. Ruth, can I please have some ice-cream?”

“I’m afraid we ran out of ice-cream, but I’ll put it on your grocery list,” Ruth tells her, a pout tugging on Izzy’s lips.

“How about this: I’m gonna make a delicious smoothie, that’s almost like melted ice-cream, would you like some?” you offer and her eyes brighten up immediately, nodding right away.

While Ruth puts away Izzy’s things they brought home from daycare, while the two of you move to the kitchen to make the smoothie together. You find some frozen berries in the freezer and pair them with bananas, putting them all into the blender with oatmilk, blending it all together.

“How is it?” you ask Izzy, who is sitting on top of the counter, tasting the pink smoothie that leaves a cute little mustache above her cherry lips.

“I like it!” she smiles, scrunching her nose.

“We can make it some other time then,” you smile, drinking up your portion.

Izzy is dancing around the kitchen, babbling about her last day at daycare while you clean the glasses and the blender when Harry arrives. He is wearing a baby blue suit with a crispy dress shirt underneath, looking fashionable but still business appropriate at the same time.

“Daddy!” Izzy launches towards her daddy, who catches her, throwing her into the air before holding her in his arms, joining you in the kitchen.

“Hey baby. How was your day?”

“Good, all my friends hugged me but I told them we would meet in the park.”

“That’s right, and I have the number of all your friends’ parents, we can have playdates with them whenever you want to,” he smiles before his eyes meet yours. “Hi Y/N, everything went well with the rest of your moving?”

“Yeah, I’m all set,” you smile back at him.

“That’s great. I have a few calls to make, but I’ll be done in thirty probably. Would you mind looking out for Izzy in the meanwhile?”

“Of course. She promised me to take me around her room, so we could do that, what do you say?” you ask the little girl who nods in excitement.

Harry disappears in his office and Izzy pulls you to her room, showing you just about every toy she owns. Her room is a typical girl’s room, the walls are painted a light pink color, her bedframe resembles a castle and she has a dollhouse as big as your previous bathroom. Harry clearly spoils her rotten, but what you noticed is that she is not one of those annoying bratty only children who can’t take no. She was clearly taught how to behave and always listen to the adults.

While Izzy is putting her stuffed animals away after introducing you to all of them, you spot a photo frame near her bed, decorated with macaroni. You remember when you all did that together at daycare and now you get to see the photo that ended up behind the glass.

It’s a photo of Izzy and her mother, she was just a baby and doing quick math in your head you realize it must have been not long before her accident, might even be the last picture taken of the two of them. Her mom is smiling at the camera while Izzy is sleeping in her arms peacefully. Izzy looked a lot like her when she was a baby, the bridge of her nose and her lips resembled her mother’s, though now she appears to take more after her dad with her chocolate curls and piercing green eyes.

“That’s my mommy,” she tells you when she sees you looking at the photo.

“It’s a nice picture,” you smile at her, trying your best to hide how heartbroken you feel even just looking at the photo.

“Daddy said she had to go up to the sky, but she is watching me from there,” she explains, clearly not entirely sure what it means, but you can tell she misses her. “Daddy said she is living between the stars now and that she loves me very much.” You need to fight your tears back at her words.

“I’m sure of that too,” you breathe out smiling at her.

“Izzy, do you want to help me make dinner?” Harry walks in smiling, though it disappears for a moment when he sees the two of you looking at the photo of his wife, but he is quick to control himself.

“Yes! What are we making?” she runs over to him, jumping up and down.

“Uh, chicken and veggies.”

You step away from the photo, pretending like nothing just happened. You’re dying to discuss it with Harry, hear him talk about it, but you won’t push him. If he wants to share it, he’ll come to you.

“Alright, come on then,” he smiles down at her. “Thank you for watching her, I’ll take over from here. Food will be ready in about an hour, Ruth is staying with us as well,” he informs you.

“Great, I’ll… I’ll be in my room,” you nod.

The first two weeks on the job brush past smoothly. It takes you some time to get used to your new home, but taking care of Izzy doesn’t feel like work, so you’re feeling amazing in your new job. You easily fall into a schedule with her.

The mornings are always Harry’s duty. He wakes her up around seven-thirty, makes her breakfast and dresses her for the day before he leaves around nine. Thanks to this habit of his, you’re able to sleep in until eight, leaving you plenty of time to get ready for your day with Izzy before Harry has to leave. Depending on the weather, the two of you then either take over the back yard or move to her room for some play time before her class of the day starts in the noon. Piano with Rosaline on Mondays and Wednesdays, French lesson with Lyon on Tuesdays and Fridays and then Izzy’s favorite on Thursdays, swimming class with Kitty.

Izzy loves to help in the kitchen so you usually make lunch together. Once her tummy is full she takes a nap before you sit down to learn something new every day. You’ve been teaching her the numbers and the alphabet, or some days you just talk about anything that interests her and learn at least two things she hasn’t know yet, all through games so she doesn’t even realize what you’re doing. You’re usually done by around three, leaving you time to take a visit to the park, if Harry is not planning to take her himself later that day.

You’re strictly home by four, unless it’s Tuesday when she has her dance class until five. Those days you drive her to her class, run some quick errands and pick her up. Harry usually uses his extra time in the office on these days, but he is always home by six to have dinner together with his daughter.

Once Harry is home you’re off duty, though you like to stay close, not just in case something comes up for Harry, but because you genuinely like spending time with Izzy and Harry, seeing them interacting.

Harry sometimes has to work on Saturdays as well, but just as he promised Ruth is always here to take over duty on those days, leaving you free for the whole weekend. It’s been working perfectly for you and those very few concerns you had about moving in dissolve quite fast as soon as you start working.

Though it’s been pretty clear to you before, you now one hundred percent sure that Harry is living for his daughter. She is always a priority, he doesn’t hesitate to decline any work calls he gets in the evenings if Izzy needs him, if she is a little fussy and wants her daddy’s attention or when they are in the middle of a game. He is clearly trying to keep a balance between his work and role as a father and from what you’ve seen, it seems like he is doing an amazing job in that. However you haven’t learned much else about him. He is all friendly towards you, but makes sure to keep it business casual, not quite keen on getting to know each other better as just friends, maybe.

A Friday afternoon you’re having a little tea party in the backyard with Izzy when Harry arrives home, but this time, he is not alone. Through the sliding door you spot him with a blonde guy who is talking very articulately as Harry is typing on his phone. The man looks about Harry’s age, but you can’t tell if he is a friend or a business partner, but if Harry brought him home, he is more likely to be a friend of his.

“Uncle Niall!” Izzy gasps when he spots the man through the glass and abandoning the tea party, she starts running towards the door. The man spots her and slides the door open grinning widely before she jumps into his arms.

“Little bugger! How are ya?” the man laughs, holding Izzy in a tight hug before leaning back to take a good look at her. You notice his thick Irish accent and it suits his appearance quite well. You head inside as well, in case Harry needs Izzy busy for a little longer, though he doesn’t mind having her around, kissing the top of her head before finishing up whatever he was doing on his phone, watching Niall and Izzy smiling.

“I’m having a tea party with Y/N, wanna join?” Izzy invites the man, who then looks at you for the first time, smiling widely.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Izzy’s new nanny,” you introduce yourself, holding out a hand that he shakes, keeping Izzy in his other arm without a problem.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Niall.”

“Y/N, Niall is an old friend of mine. He is joining us for dinner, hope you don’t mind,” Harry informs you and you find it funny how he is kind of asking for your approval when it’s his house.

“Not at all.”

“Harry has told me he hired a pair of new hands to help, but he didn’t mention it’s a stunning young woman!” Niall beams, making you blush right away.

“Ni, I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to pick up my daughter’s new nanny,” Harry warns him lightly, though there’s some firmness in his tone, not that it scares Niall in any way, he even winks at you.

“Oh come on, you can’t expect me not to flirt when you surround yourself with so many pretty women! First Ruth and now Y/N!”

You smile at him, something is telling you he wasn’t joking and he tried to flirt with Ruth as well. Harry just rolls his eyes at his friend, taking Izzy from him.

“Keep it in your pants, Niall,” Harry tells him and though it’s nothing vulgar, it catches Izzy’s attention.

“What should he keep in his pants?” she questions, making your and Harry’s eyes grow big right away. Luckily, Niall keeps his cool and takes care of the situation.

“My attitude, Sweetie. Your daddy is just jealous because I’m more handsome than he is,” he smirks at the little girl, successfully avoiding an awkward conversation about what it is that Niall should keep in his pants.

You smile at his reply, even though you are not that sure about the comparison he just made between himself and Harry.

“Izzy, do you want to continue the tea party?” you ask her and even though just a minute ago she was inviting Niall to join her, now she shakes her head no. “Alright, I’ll pack it up then.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. We’ll do it, right Izzy? She brought it all out, she is going to be the one packing it up,” Harry reminds her and she nods.

The two of them move outside to put her little tea set back into the basket she keeps it in, leaving you and Niall alone.

“So Y/N, how did you end up here?”

“I was working at Izzy’s daycare, but they sent me away not long ago. Then Harry contacted me and offered the job which was a lifesaver, truly.”

“That’s great! Well, not that you got fired, but that you ended up here. I know it means a lot for Harry that he can spend more time with Izzy, you’re making everything a lot easier for him.” Niall walks over into the kitchen and grabs a water for himself as he leans against the counter. “I can see that he is a lot more relaxed now already.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised.

“Yeah. I know he always used to stress about picking Izzy up, or forgetting something the daycare asked for. Now he can make it all work just how he wants to, that fits him a lot more. It hasn’t been easy on him since Maggie’s death.”

This is the first time you hear anyone talk about Harry’s wife and now you just learned her name. Maggie.

“Being a single parents is never easy,” you add with a soft smile, not wanting to interrogate Niall about Maggie. It’s Harry’s place to tell you about her, if he wants to, of course.

Soon enough Izzy and Harry take over the kitchen, Niall helping them this time and you leave them alone, taking some time for yourself in your room. Later you go out to check if there’s anything you could help with, Harry asks you to set the table as he finishes up the cooking.

“So, Y/N. Tell me a little bit about yourself!” Niall asks you over dinner.

“Um, what do you want to know?” you ask, feeling a little flustered to be in the spotlight.

“I don’t know, family, friends, hobbies?”

“Well, I have a younger brother, Trevor. He is seventeen and already taller than me.”

“Oh, that seems like a big age gap.”

“Ten years, to be exact,” you nod. “He was planned, I wasn’t,” you add with a soft chuckle. “But we have a great relationship, so it’s all good. We talk almost every day.”

“I’m sure you’ll get well along with Gemma then!” Niall beams, glancing at Harry.

“Gemma is my sister,” Harry explains. “Though she is not that much older than me.”

“But you can bond over being stuck with a younger brother who outgrew you,” Niall jokes making all three of you laugh.

All through dinner you realize how different Niall is from Harry, but in a good way. While Harry is more quiet and calm, Niall is kind of all over the place, buzzing and chatting every chance he got, but the two of them make a great pair, bringing what the other doesn’t have to the table.

After dinner you attempt to leave them again, but Niall makes you stay as they open a glass of wine. Harry puts on a movie for Izzy to keep her busy, giving the three of you a chance to sit out at the terrace from where you still can keep an eye on the little girl inside.

“Alright, Y/N. When are we going on our first date then?” Niall asks out of the blue, a cocky smile tugging on his lips.

“Niall, for fuck’s sake,” Harry breathes out as you let out an awkward chuckle.

“What? I think there’s some electricity going on between us.”

“I, uhh—I don’t…”

“Please don’t turn me down!” he sighs dramatically, making you smile.

“You’ve been great company, but I’m not sure we should go out,” you tell him. He huffs in disappointment, but it’s clear he didn’t take it to his heart.

“Is it because you’re taken? I didn’t even ask, are you dating anyone? You can’t be engaged, because I don’t see any rings,” he points out, nodding towards your naked fingers, however his words make you suck on your breath.

“I’m not engaged. Not anymore,” you admit and you watch their eyes go wide at the information.

“Wait, you’ve been engaged before?” Harry asks, clearly surprised, if not shocked.

“Yeah. For about four months,” you nod, running your tongue over your lips as you reach for your wine, taking a few large gulps.

“And what did the fucker do?” Niall bluntly questions, earning a look from Harry. “What? I’m just curious what twat it takes to lose a woman like her!”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about that,” Harry presses, but you shrug.

“It’s not a secret. We dated for about two years before he proposed. I said yes, started planning the wedding and everything, then found out that he had been cheating on me with his assistant for about a year. We broke up, simple as that. It’s in the past, happened a year ago.”

“That’s some next level asshole bullshit,” Niall shakes his head while Harry is just staring at you with an unreadable look before he turns his attention at his glass, still clearly deep in his thoughts and you wonder what he thinks of you now. Here is the loser who not only got cheated on, but lost her job, all of that just in one year.

Harry doesn’t react, and a moment later Izzy comes out because she is thirsty, so daddy duties call him away. Niall stays a little, but heads home soon as well.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. The date still stands though,” he smirks when he pulls back from the short hug he enveloped you in.

“Alright,” you chuckle, slowly getting used to his flirty act.

You was the wine glasses and head back to your room while Harry walks Niall out and then takes Izzy upstairs to give her a bath. You don’t cross paths until later when you leave your room, already in your pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt to grab some water for yourself and he walks out of Izzy’s room just then, probably done with putting her to sleep.

“I’m sorry if Niall made you uncomfortable, he didn’t mean to be rude or anything,” he apologizes as the two of you walk together.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you chuckle softly. “It was kind of a boost to my ego, if I’m being honest.”

Harry huffs with a smile and stops at the kitchen island, his fingers tapping on his lips as you grab yourself a bottled water.

“I’m… I’m sorry about… about what you told us earlier.”

Closing the fridge you look at him, seeing that he is kind of hesitant, like he is not sure he should have spoken up, but you appreciate the thought.

“It’s alright. Just water under the bridge,” you shrug.

“I just feel bad you had to go through that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you chuckle softly. “It sucked, yeah. I really thought I would live happily ever after with Keith, but instead I got a lesson.”

“A lesson?”

“When we broke up I was obviously on the floor, both literal and theoretical way. I thought it was my fault, that I did something wrong and that’s why he did what he did. I even thought that I’m not worthy of being loved and being in love again. Took me time to realize that no matter what happened, I still deserve to be happy and to find someone to love and who can love me back.”

It appears that your words touch him deep, staring back at you, he just nods shortly, not replying to anything you just said. You’re not sure he is so silent because he doesn’t really understand what you just talked about or if it hit too close to home. Whatever it is, he keeps it to himself.

“Good night, Harry,” you smile at him before walking out of the kitchen and up into your room.

You’re lying in bed already when you hear him open his room’s door and then close it and suddenly he is all you can think about. The way his eyes sometimes pierce down on you, the way he taps his fingers against his lips when he is thinking hard or the proud smile that always plasters across his face whenever he is watching Izzy do basically anything. But you do see some pain in those beautiful green eyes of his and your desire to take just the smallest fracture of it away grows, even though he is not showing any sign that he is willing to share it with you.

The next morning, despite having the day off, you wake up quite early. You toss and turn, try to fall back asleep a little longer, but you just can’t. It’s a nice, warm morning and you decide to take advantage of the little balcony attached to your room. Wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe you grab the book you started reading a few days ago and sit out, enjoying the morning Sun that’s shining right at you on the balcony.

You don’t even realize for a while that you’re not the only early riser. When your eyes wander down to the big oak tree that’s near Izzy’s playground, you spot Harry doing what appears to be yoga on a green mattress, wearing nothing else, just a pair of black shorts. No shirt.

For a moment you think about going inside, feeling like you’re invading his privacy in a way, but you have the right to enjoy the morning Sun on your balcony, it’s not your fault he decided to have yoga at the exact same time. And it’s just hard not to look at his shirtless body stretching in all directions, twisting and turning as he goes through the motions, his tattooed body on full display.

It’s been clear since the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time that Harry is probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever met and that includes all your exes. Paired with his kind of mysterious charisma and the way he takes care of his daughter, he is the whole package, but you have been busy with Izzy to dwell too long on how attractive he really is. But right now, you are not working and he is very much shirtless in the backyard, teasing you with thoughts you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about when it comes to your boss.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you let yourself watch him just for a few more minutes before heading back inside, not wanting to get busted for being a stalker and also not wanting to see him in more positions and have even more unholy thoughts about him.

But what you don’t know is that just as you step inside, Harry catches your figure disappearing in your room, knowing well you saw him too.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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[mrsalwayswrite]

The Arrangement (Ivar x reader x Hvitserk)

Oh boy, so I don’t normally write smut but this idea came to me and would not let me write anything else. So here we are, friends. (I’m honestly so nervous to post this.)

A huge shout out to @geekandbooknerd for beta-reading this for me and listening to my ranting. You are the best, you beautiful person!

Warnings: SMUT, some feels, Ivar being Ivar 

Words: 5200

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​

 The fierce, blue eyes of Kattegat's king surveyed the Great Hall, full of people as they ate the evening meal.  Jovial conversations, yells for more ale, the pop and crackle of the large fire, even the fist fight that broke out…. none of it attracted his attention. No, instead his clever mind wrestled with one simple problem. Something he was certain no other man ever had to worry about. This problem had lately been at the forefront of his mind, slithering through his thoughts like vipers, distracting him from his duties. Weeks now he mentally wrestled with seeking a solution. Wracking his brain as what to do. He even considered going to the Seer, but quickly rejected that idea. The Seer only ever spoke in riddles and it would only further muddle his already troubled mind. He cursed the gods with his lack of a solution, for putting him in this predicament. 

 But this morning as he lay in bed, willing the pain in his legs to diminish, a solution came to mind. It was so simple, something he should have considered long ago…. but one that required trust. Something which admittedly was not his strongest suit. But for this solution to work, to gain what he yearned for, he must trust. There was no other way. It was like the gods came to him, spoke into his mind during his slumber, explaining what he must do. Though he trusted no one completely, there was one who he could trust with this solution. And the rewards…. oh, the rewards would be well worth it. 

 Besides, it could be fun. 

He observed where his brother sat at a nearby table, talking and laughing with some of their warriors. A broad grin lit up his face as he freely drank and shared stories. Although Hvitserk seemed to be fully invested in the conversation around him, from where Ivar reclined on his throne, he could see the way his brother's gaze darted frequently to another table nearby. Quick looks, never lingering, almost indiscernible from how his gaze shifted to his companions around him. But Ivar could see it. Many times he had witnessed his brother's secret looks. Now was the time to test it. 

 With a sharp order, Ivar sent a nearby thrall to summon the other Ragnarsson. Hvitserk glanced at Ivar with a confused expression before giving a single nod. As he rose from his spot at the tables, Ivar had a nearby thrall fill up his ale horn, eyes shifting from his brother to the one who continued to unknowingly entice the elder Ragnarsson. When Hvitserk stood at the bottom of the dais, leading up to the thrones, Ivar waved his hand, signaling for his brother to sit on the throne next to him. The Queen's throne. Your throne. 

 Surprise flashed across the face of the flaxen-haired Ragnarsson, eyes darting between the two thrones for a moment in surprise. Ivar wondered if thoughts of their beautiful mother crossed his brother's mind as he saw the throne as often as they did his own. After a second, Hvitserk shrugged and seated himself on the other throne. Silence persisted as they nursed their ales. 

 Looking over the crowd, Ivar returned his gaze to the one person who, beside his mother, he was most devoted to. You were smiling in a way that made his heart clench and his lips twitch, wanting to mirror your joy. He never understood your need to mingle with others during meals instead of remaining on your throne. At times, jealousy reared its head in his mind, but you always returned to his side, to his bed, sharing the latest gossip you heard or a particularly funny story. He would grumble but never admit how he enjoyed listening to you, or how he used that gossip to his benefit. 

 Now you sat with a few women he recognized as wives to wealthy traders in Kattegat. A baby lay in your arms as you spoke with enthusiasm to one of the women. With the light from the flames dancing across your face and the joy radiating from you as you cooed at the baby in your arms, Ivar knew there was no one as beautiful as you. Even more so than his mother. Every day he still found himself in awe that you chose him, you agreed to be his wife, that you loved him. It was enough to make him feel invincible. To conquer the world and lay it at your feet as an offering. 

 Without moving his head, Ivar peeked over at his brother, unsurprised to see him staring in the same direction. The horn of ale at his lips helped mask where his lingering gaze lay, but Ivar could see. He knew. 

 "I see how you look at her." Ivar said nonchalantly. 

 "Who?" Hvitserk questioned, eyes pretending to roam over the Great Hall. 

 Ivar smirked, fingers lightly tapping on the armrest of his throne. "My queen…. y/n."

 "She is a beautiful woman. Is it wrong now to admire someone so clearly blessed by Freyja?"

 "Ah, but I see your mind. You want to do more than admire, dear brother."

 Hvitserk shifted uncomfortably, head snapping to the side to eye his younger brother warily. "What is this, Ivar?"

 The young king leaned back, smirk still in place. After a tense moment of watching Hvitserk squirm, he dropped his voice so he knew only his brother could hear him. "I have a proposition for you."

 "What?"

 "I need your help with a…. sensitive matter."

 The flaxen-haired Ragnarsson scoffed. "Is this Ivar the Boneless actually asking for help?" 

 "Will you help me or not?" He sharply retorted, trying to force down the rising anger that bubbled under his skin. 

 "Of course." He said with a sigh. "What is it?"

 Ivar pushed off his throne, tossing back the rest of his ale and handing his horn off to a nearby thrall. "Come. We will discuss this in my bedroom." 

 He did not wait for his brother, already leaning on his crutch as he walked down the steps and down the corridor to the royal rooms. He hoped his plan worked. He needed it to work. Even if it meant trusting his brother with what was most precious to him. 

 *****

 Your steps were sure as you left the Great Hall and walked down the corridor to your bedroom. You had seen Ivar and Hvitserk leave the evening meal some time ago, but assumed they went to discuss important matters somewhere quiet. So, you stayed to talk with your friends, something you cherished. It was important to you that even though you were their queen, they could be comfortable in your presence and feel free to speak to you. Plus, you enjoyed the juicy gossip passed around. 

 One of the guards opened the bedroom door for you. You nodded a brief thanks and walked in…. only for your feet to stutter to a stop after you entered. Surprise flooded you to see your husband and his older brother both in your bedroom. Ivar reclined on his favorite, wide chair near the lit fireplace but what was most perplexing was how Hvitserk sat on the end of your bed, elbows on his knees with a guarded expression. 

 "My wife will not be needing your assistance tonight." Ivar stated to the thrall who had followed you into the room. "You may leave us….and inform the guards we do not wish to be disturbed for any reason."

 The thrall glanced over to you, since she was yours. The routine of helping you undress and prepare for bed, a regular occurrence most nights. At your murmured acceptance, she nodded her head and left, closing the door behind her. 

 "Is everything alright, Ivar? Have you heard something from your spies?" You quickly asked once the three of you were alone. Worry gnawed in your stomach. He had confessed to you late one night that there was a nearby earl he thought might try to attack and overtake Kattegat. 

 "Come here, my love." He held his leather-clad hand out for you to take, something you did without question. He guided you to stand between his open, brace-covered legs. With his other hand, he tapped his lips, a cheeky glint in his eyes. You giggled but obliged, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to his mouth in response to his wordless demand.

 His hands on your hips, he looked up at you with devotion in those piercing blue eyes. A sight that made your heart melt every time without him even having to say a word. 

 "What is going on?"

 "You know I love you, yes?" He softly questioned, still staring up at you like you were the moon and stars. 

 You cupped his cheek, his sideburns tickling your fingers. "Of course. And I love you."

 "Mmmm…. the gods have given me wisdom as how to solve our problem."

 "Our problem?" Your brows furrowed, confused by what he was talking about. 

 He pointedly looked at your belly then back up at you. 

 Then it hit you, and your heart broke a little at the heartache in his gaze. "Oh, Ivar, I told you…."

 "It's been a year, y/n." He interrupted, the grief slipping into his voice, even as he struggled to hide it. "We've been trying for a year and there is nothing to show for it. I never thought I could pleasure a woman until you came along and I hoped…. I hoped I could give you a child. Our child. But it seems the gods still will not grant me that ability. I need an heir, and I want to see you grow round with a child. I want a family with you. Something I never dreamed of before."

 Realization dawned on you as to why Hvitserk was in your bedroom. Eyes wide, you peeked over your shoulder at the other Ragnarsson, who was staring at the ground between his feet, then looked back at your husband. 

 "Ivar…."

 "Hvitty has agreed. He will be my cock and plant a baby in you in my name."

 This time you fully turned around to stare at the flaxen-haired brother. "Hvitserk, are you sure you want to do this?" 

 Gods, this sounded like something your husband would force his brother to do. Actually, you were beyond astounded that Ivar would even let another man touch you. Before your thoughts could follow that trail, Ivar's voice brought you back. 

 He chuckled darkly, an edge to his tone like he was confessing someone else's secret. "My brother can barely keep his eyes off you whenever you are around….and when I told him my idea, he agreed without hesitation."

 You witnessed an adorable blush rise to Hvitserk's cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled under his breath. For a moment he looked like a young boy again, caught staring at his latest crush. It was so innocent and precious. Yet with the rumors you heard from some of the women of Kattegat, you knew he was far from innocent. There had been a handful of times you secretly noticed the Ragnarsson's heated gaze on you, but your mind played it off, thinking he must have truly been looking at someone else or he was just admiring your dress. Now your mind flipped through those memories with a different lens. 

 After giving your husband's hands a quick squeeze, you stepped out of his embrace. Heart hammering away in your chest, you watched the elder brother with a new understanding as you approached. This time you did not miss the way his eyes raked over your form or how he licked his lips almost in anticipation. The shiver that rolled down your spine startled you, but not unpleasantly so. 

 Almost in a mirror image, you stood between Hvitserk's legs, his hands automatically landing on your hips, just like how you stood with Ivar; but the way his hands felt unbound by leather and almost hesitant to touch you, was a reminder this was not your husband. After a moment, you cupped his face, his beautiful brown eyes meeting yours with such naked want in them, heat coursed through you.  

 "Are you sure, Hvitty?" You whispered.   

 "I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about laying with you." He confessed, a naughty smirk teasing his lips. His voice stayed low as you two traded secrets. "Are you alright with this…. arrangement? I know you love my brother, and I don't want to ruin that. Not for either one of you."

 You continued to stroke his cheek as you pondered his question. There was no doubt that you loved Ivar with all your heart. He was the love of your life and you knew you were his. Hvitserk easily was the brother you always wished for. You enjoyed his flirtatious teasing, especially when it made the jealous side of your husband come out because the sex after that was always mind-blowing. The blond was someone you trusted wholeheartedly. Your life was perfect, you were happier than you ever thought you would be. But there was one thing you always imagined, one thing you silently yearned for. So it was with that in mind, your answer, your decision was an easy one to make. 

 "I want a baby."

 His smirk grew, "I'll try my best to help with that."

 You laughed. "Oh, so gracious of you."

 He winked cheekily, taking one of your hands to kiss your palm slowly. 

 You shifted to meet your husband's cool gaze, with Hvitserk's hands gently kneading your hips. "Ivar, you are certain this is what you want? This won't cause jealousy between you and your brother?"

 Ivar scoffed. "Why would it?"

 "You threatened last month to gouge a trader's eyes out for staring at y/n too long." Hvitserk deadpanned. In the next second, he leaned over to lay a kiss on your hip meanwhile, his hand shifted to grab a handful of your ass cheek. You squeaked, surprised by the bold move in front of Ivar. As you tried to wriggle away, he only chuckled and pulled you to sit directly on his lap. It should not surprise you anymore how strong Hvitserk was, but somehow it always managed to catch you off guard. Though your mind certainly took notice of the bulge in his pants underneath you. 

 "He was talking only to her breasts. He is lucky I did not take at least one eye for his disrespect." Ivar leaned back in his seat. "You agree to this, my love?"

 "I do." You answered. 

 "Excellent. Come here for a moment." He beckoned you to him once again. 

 Hvitserk released you, not before palming your ass as you stood up. You swatted at his hands, but the smile on your lips let him know you were not truly upset. 

 That smile only grew as you glided over to your husband. For all of his anger and wrath, none of it ever touched you. Instead he treated you delicately, reverently. As if you were a dream and with one wrong move, you would vanish. Or a goddess he vowed to continuously worship. You thrived under his tender touches, drawing you further and further into the ocean of his profound love. 

 He guided you to stand between his legs again and for a brief moment you felt like a ball the brothers were taking turns passing back and forth. You dashed the thought away before it made you giggle. 

 "I have one condition for our arrangement." Ivar said, intently watching your face. His finger traced the edges of your lips, as if to memorize them. "Only I own your mouth. I was your first kiss. So as I live and breathe, only I get the pleasure of your kisses. Hvitserk can kiss and touch you anywhere else but there. Agreed?"

 You nodded mutely. The growing desire in his eyes caused your womb to clench and fire to begin warming your veins. 

 "Brother?"

 "Agreed." Hvitserk said from his perch on the bed behind you, his voice sounding a bit gruffer than a minute ago. 

 Ivar turned those piercing, passionate eyes back to you. "My love…." He placed a kiss to the valley between your breasts, allowing his face to linger there a moment. You carded your fingers through his loosened hair, feeling his hands gently holding your hips. When he looked up, gone was the sweet, loving devotion in his eyes, replaced with something wicked. "Shall we teach Hvitty what you like first?"

 "What do you have in mind?"

 "Take off your dress."

 "I need help with the laces." You reminded him as he was the one to demand your thrall leave earlier. 

 "Ah, you are right. Go to Hvitserk, he will help."

 Obediently, you walked the few steps back to the elder Ragnarsson wondering what game your husband was playing, but you could not deny the excitement thrumming in your veins. Without a word, you turned around to allow him access to the lacing on the back of your dress. You thought he would hesitate or his fingers would tremble knowing your husband was watching on. Instead they deftly plucked and tugged at the laces like he had done this many times. Once your back was exposed, his hand traced down your spine, causing you to shiver under the sensual touch. 

 Holding the front of the dress to your chest, you made your way back over to Ivar. Standing in front of him, his hands claimed your fingers from holding your dress to entwine with his own. Immediately, your dress slipped down your body to pool at your feet, leaving you completely bare before the two Ragnarssons. 

 Ivar's hands landed on your hips but instead of pulling you to straddle him, like you expected, he slowly spun you around and had you sit on his lap, facing his brother. What met your gaze was the wolfish look of Hvitserk, staring at you like you were something he wanted to devour. Ivar's hands slide up from your hips to cup your breasts as if offering them to his brother. 

 "Look at you, my goddess, my wife." Ivar whispered against your skin as he left hot, open-mouth kisses along the column of your throat. You could not help but whimper, your body so in tune with his. He barely had to touch you before your body begged for him to fill you. A dampness already coated your core. Without taking his eyes off of you, his hands fondling you in the way that made you breathless, he addressed his brother. "Is she not perfect, Hvitty? A goddess begging to be worshiped."

 "Gods, yes. Perfect."

 Normally you would be embarrassed by the praises. Now though, you felt like a lamb being toyed with by two wolves. Trapped by the lustful gaze of one and the feverish touches of the other. 

 Ivar's hands continued to fondle and pluck at your nipples, causing your head to fall back onto his shoulder. "That's right, you love these perfect breasts being played with, don't you?"

 "Ivar…." His name was a needy whine coming off your tongue.

 "Yes, my love. So sensitive. Just imagine it's Hvitty's mouth on them." 

 An unexpected, wanton moan escaped you at the thought. Your hips started rolling against your husband's lap, desperate for friction. 

 "Open your eyes." Ivar whispered into your ear. "Look at Hvitty."

 You obeyed even though your body demanded to close your eyes and wallow in the pleasure Ivar could induce in you. As your gaze locked with the elder Ragnarsson, you felt one of Ivar's hands skim down your stomach to part your legs, exposing your core. 

 Instinctively, you started to close your legs only for Ivar to tsk and bite the junction of your neck and shoulder. "Don't be shy. Let him see that sweet pussy." 

 Your legs fell back open, allowing his hand free reign to touch you where you most needed it. Your body automatically arched into his hand, silently begging for more. Sweat already began to dampen you as the heat burned hotter under your skin. 

 "I swear Valhalla is between her legs, brother."

 Hvitserk spoke up, his voice coming out rough and husky. "Touch her, Ivar."

 "You hear that, y/n?" Your husband teased, licking a stripe up the column of your throat. "Should I touch you?"

 "Please." You begged, too far along to care how needy you sounded. 

 He chuckled darkly, his hand dipped to your core, cupping and teasing you. You tensed as his skilled fingers played with your folds and clit but never entering you. He could tease you for hours, leave you on the brink as you begged for relief. It was a favorite game of his. You started to grind against him, your blood boiling with desire and the need for relief. 

 Somehow, he always knew when you were close, as if it was a sixth sense. 

 "She is close, Hvitty. Her pussy is weeping to be filled." He squeezed your breast, causing you to loudly moan.

"Do you want my fingers or my cock, my queen?"

 "I want you, beloved." You answered in a breathy sigh. 

 His teasing ceased, almost making you whine. Gently, he cupped your chin, turning your head to gaze lovingly into your eyes. It always seemed to astound him that you desired him, not just physically but as a person, as a friend, as a lover and a soul mate. He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, pouring in all of his devotion in a way you understood since words always failed him. 

 Slowly you rose to your feet but instead of walking away, you turned to face him. This was a dance the two of you had done before. Knowing what he wanted, you straddled his lap without fear of the wide chair breaking under your combined weight. This was not the first time you had made love on this particular chair by the fire. 

 Still gazing at you in awe and adoration, Ivar cupped your breasts. His thumbs teased your nipples. A low moan fell from your lips as your head tipped back. His mouth then descended on your chest, first leaving small kisses before taking one of your peaked nipples into his mouth. 

 "Ivar…." You groaned. "Yes, yes."

 In an action well practiced, you were already reaching between your bodies to fumble with the laces of his pants. Without hesitation, you sank down onto him, being filled in the best way possible. Your lips sought out his, drawing pleasure from his mouth just as much as his cock. Your tongues swirled as your hips rolled. It was delirium. This pleasure he could bring out of you. It was all-consuming. No matter how much he teased, he was always gentle and reverent when it came to worshipping you. A slow, sweet burn that sunk into every fiber of your body, called forth your very soul to dance with his, just as much as your bodies writhed together. 

 You unlocked your mouth, throwing your head back with a loud moan as your pace increased, riding his cock, seeking your peak. His growls and words of praise only spurred you on. 

 Finally it came, crashing over you, eliciting a cry of Ivar's name loud enough the guards outside the door probably heard. Three more quick thrusts and you could feel Ivar spill his empty seed inside you. His head dropped onto your chest, both of you panting and sweaty. 

 "You're mine." He murmured against your skin as if reminding himself or branding the words into your naked skin. "You're my goddess, my queen, mine."

 "Always." You whispered back. 

 After both of you came down from your erotic high, Ivar leaned up, pressing a toe-curling kiss to your already swollen lips. 

 "She's ready for you, brother." He loudly announced. 

 It was then you remembered Hvitserk in the room. So caught up in making love with your husband, you had momentarily forgotten what was to happen. You stared down at your husband, silently asking him if he was sure. 

 Ivar rolled his eyes but caressed your cheek with his calloused fingers. "It's alright. Besides, if you don't go take care of him, he'll probably blow his load in his pants soon."

 You smiled, kissing him once more before carefully rising off his lap. As you turned to look at the flaxen-haired warrior, never before had you felt the seductress until now. With your husband's seed spilling down your thigh, you slowly walked the few paces to stand in front Hvitserk. With each step closer, his ravenous gaze devoured your nakedness; a predatory look that made your thighs clench and put a quiver in your belly. 

 "How do you want me?" You softly asked, standing before him. 

 He swallowed thickly, fists clenching and releasing before he cleared his throat and answered hoarsely. "Lie down on your back."

 Embracing the inner seductress in you, you crawled across your bed, giving your husband and his brother a spectacular view of your ass. Nerves aflutter, you laid down on your large marital bed. Yet you could feel the longing ache between your legs growing the more you thought about what was to come. 

 Soon, Hvitserk hovered above you, completely naked. Although you loved your husband and his body, the sight of Hvitserk in all his glory made your mouth water and core clench in anticipation.  

 "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He confessed, barely above a whisper. "Gods…." His mouth landed on your neck, lavishing his affections using both teeth and tongue. Sweeping downward, his ministrations continued, drawing soft cries from you as he equally used his mouth and hands to caress all the curves of your body. Each touch, each caress, each bite and lick, all felt like he was trying to get himself drunk on the feel of your soft skin, your scent and the sounds of pleasure coming from you. 

 It did not take long for you to begin writhing underneath him, clawing at his back, utterly at his mercy. This desire he invoked in you was molten and drugging. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you fought to remember to breathe. 

 Pulling back slightly, he lined himself up. Then instead of gradually easing into you, he slammed into you until he was fully sheathed in your womanhood. A cry left your mouth at the same time as he groaned. You expected pain but instead your body readily welcomed the intrusion, hot and wet, waiting for him. 

 He pressed his forehead to yours, remaining frozen, giving you both time to adjust. "Gods…. this is Valhalla." He whispered with a touch of awe in his voice. 

 You rolled your hips; your body begging for more, for release, for him to bring you to new heights. "Hvitty…."

 "Say my name." He grunted, a slow thrust accompanying it. 

 "Hvitserk." 

 "Again." This thrust was a little faster and harder. 

 "Hvitserk."

 "Say it." 

 His name rolled off your tongue in a gasp as he slammed into you, stars appearing in your vision. "Hvitserk."

 As a key unlocking, your fervid gasp seemed to unleash him. In the next moment, he began thrusting with abandon, almost animalistic in his pleasurable fury. He grabbed your hips, lifting them off the bed to begin pounding into you like a man possessed. 

 Never before had Ivar done anything like this and to your surprise…. you liked it. A lot. 

 Your hands clawed at the bed, desperate for something to hold onto. Cries of pleasure flowed freely from you. An inferno lived inside of you, threatening to burn you with ecstasy. Sluggishly you opened your eyes to be met with the sight of Hvitserk cradled between your thighs, sweat glistening on his flushed skin as he rocked into you, sending jolts of electricity each time. Those brown eyes stared down at you like he wanted to own your body and soul.

 With a silent scream, your peak overwhelmed you. Your eyes slammed shut as your back arched, delicious waves of pleasure making your mind cease to function. 

 Hvitserk followed quickly, a growl splitting the air between you as his thrusts stuttered to an end and his seed filled your womb. He all but collapsed on top of you after, both for you sweaty and sated. 

 "Did I hurt you?" He asked, his voice raspy and content. His head laid on your chest, his body seeming to be the only thing to keep you from floating away on waves of bliss. 

 "No." You mumbled languishly, too pleasure-drunk to say more. 

 He tipped his head to look at you, a lazy smirk on his face. "I really want to kiss you."

 "You know the one rule." You reminded him, brushing a hand over his frazzled braids. 

 He hummed, then with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he leaned forward and licked your lips. At first you just stared as he grinned at you, but giggles soon fell from your mouth. 

 "Hvitserk! What did I say?" Ivar demanded, walking over to sit on the opposite side of the bed. 

 Hvitserk rolled his head to look at his brother, but kept it on your naked chest. "I didn't kiss her. You never said anything about not licking her lips."

 Ivar rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, as he unstrapped his braces and flopped onto the bed. His hand reached out for you, possessively tugging you out from underneath his brother and into his side. Not that you minded. You immediately curled against him, your eyelids straining to stay open. 

 "I'm alright." You answered the question you could see lingering in his eyes. "Just sleepy now."

 He smiled fondly down at you, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead. Sleep called to you as you lay in your husband's arms. So wonderfully relaxed, your muscles were loose and your womanhood ached in the best way from the lasting effects of your pleasure. 

 The sound of movement made you tip your head to the side, only to see Hvitserk getting off the bed and reaching for his clothes. 

 "Where are you going?" You asked, your voice lethargic as if already infused by sleep. 

 Those brown eyes jumped from you to your husband and back. "I figured Ivar would want me to leave now so you two can go to sleep."

 "Stay, Hvitty. The hour is late." Ivar replied, running a hand up and down your bare back. "Besides I plan on this arrangement until y/n is with child. You can stay with us."

 With a tilt of his head, the brothers regarded each other for a long moment before Hvitserk chuckled, tossing his tunic back to the ground and crawling into bed in just his pants. 

 "Thank the gods. This bed is ridiculously comfortable."

 You smiled, rolling over so your back was pressed to Ivar's chest, snuggling closer to him. His arm settled around your waist comfortably as he placed a kiss on the back of your neck. Snaking a hand over the covers, you reach over and entwine the elder brother's fingers with yours. Hvitserk startled initially but quickly brought your hand to his lips, a brief kiss on your knuckles, then laid it back on the bed, keeping your fingers entangled. 

 Sleep found you within minutes, tucked between the two Ragnarssons, one being your husband and the other who would give you a child. 

 Your last thought was wondering if Fate would allow this arrangement to work….and maybe continue. 

[subspencer]

Neighborly Favors

baby!spencer x fem!reader

based on this request from @spencergubler

spencer discovers what his neighbor does for a living, and she offers to give him a show EDIT: i realized after posting i switch from using third person/‘she’ to second person/‘you’ halfway through. my excuse is i was sleep deprived. hope you can overlook the error!

wc: 2.3k. cw: none

He's only ever seen his neighbor in passing, catching the flash of her coat as she enters her apartment while he's leaving his, or seeing the top of her head as she's walking by on the street when he looks down from his window. Most people don't take enough interest in their neighbors to care to get to know them, and normally Spencer wouldn't care either. Except this neighbor plays some pretty interesting music, which he can hear through the thin walls connecting their apartments.

He's not exactly sure what she's doing when she's playing her music loudly, but it doesn't sound like she's with anyone. And not that he's trying to invade her privacy, but he also doesn't hear anything happening that's remotely as sexual as what the music is. It kind of sounds like she's working out? He's not sure.

What little information he has on her only inspires his mind to think of her more often. To solve the mystery of his next-door neighbor, who comes home just as he's leaving for work, who he thinks always looks pretty despite never having seen her face.

Unfortunately, his sweet, innocent mind doesn't consider what most would think is the obvious answer. He has to find that out himself after he finally sees her, properly, in the hallway, trying to break into own apartment by picking the lock.

"Are you locked out?" He manages to speak calmly even though his mind is racing looking at her. She has on a short coat that stops just above her knees, and a pair of heels that look incredibly tall. All he he sees between are long, bare legs.

"Yeah.” She sighed, dropping the bobby pin she jammed into the lock. “Can I wait in yours until the maintenance guy comes?"

And he has no idea how he doesn't just pick up his feet and start running, but he actually lets her in, and now it's just the two of them sitting on his couch, multiple feet apart as they try to find conversation to fill the awkward silence.

"So... what do you do for work?"

"I'm a dancer."

"Oh... like ballet or-"

She looks at him like he's grown a second head and laughs, "I'm an exotic dancer."

"Oh."

He folds his hands in his lap and is suddenly extremely red. From the embarrassment of looking stupid in front of her, for one. And a bit because now he's thinking about her, in those exact high heels she has on, dancing in a dark room.

"These aren't the shoes I wear for that."

His head snaps up at her, terrified he’d said those thoughts out loud. He must not have realized he'd been staring down at her shoes for a moment too long, and that given her profession, she can tell when a guy's looking at her a certain way. Lucky for him, she finds his bashful innocence to be endearingly cute.

"They're a lot taller than this. I just wear these to get to and from work. You can see them sometime," she shrugs. Too coolly offering to show Spencer what she looks like when she dances.

He really doesn't know what to say, it probably should not have been what he ended up saying, "So the music from your place then?" He blinks at her, hands holding his knees so he has something to do with them. When she doesn't answer right away, he offers his signature frog smile, feeling incredibly awkward still.

"Sorry, didn't realize it was so loud." She looks genuinely apologetic, and it makes him feel bad for saying it like that.

"No, I mean- I mean is that like, the music that..." She knows what he's trying to ask, but it's just so much more fun watching him squirm trying to figure out how to word it in a tactful way. "Is that what you listen to at work?"

God, he's so cute, managing to find the most unassuming way to ask that. "It's what I dance to, at work, yes."

"Cool." He has no idea why he asked that. Or where to take the conversation from there. Now he's just sitting in that silence again, staring pointedly at his floor as he ignores the new mental image of her next door, kept apart from him by only a paper thin wall as she practices her routines in her living room.

Spencer's not a creepy guy, he's really not, but he feels like one when he's picturing his neighbor naked while she's sitting right next to him.

And who is she helping when she takes off her coat (because Spencer's apartment is eighty degrees)? Certainly not Spencer, who is half-expecting her to be wearing her uniform underneath. He's relieved when it's actually just a dress. And then he hates himself for thinking it wouldn't be.

She’s too sharp to not catch the look that flashed across his face as she took it off. Curious, excited. Maybe a little lustful. Nervous, for sure. But curious is what she was going to cling onto.

“Do you at least like some of the songs?” She said behind a devilish grin.

“I uh... I haven’t heard any of them, before-”

"What's your favorite?"

Spencer let out an airy chuckle, shrinking under the pressure that she wouldn't let up. He can't answer that question without incriminating himself a little bit. It was easier to laugh and brush it off like she was joking.

"Spencer, I know you have a favorite," she pressed, scooting a tad closer. Her chin rested on her hand, propped up by her elbow resting on her crossed-over knees. "If you tell me I might show you the routine."

The lump in his throat is visible as he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He wipes his sweaty palms on his knees before suddenly you're grabbing them, calling his attention as you stand up in front of him.

"I was going to practice anyway. I'm working on a new routine." His eyes can't get wider as you pull him up from the sofa and drag one of his dining room chairs to the center of the living room. "Maybe you can tell me if it's good."

As you queue up the song on your phone, Spencer does the only thing his mind is capable of doing. To sit down and wait for what's coming. Music starts playing softly from your phone speakers, and you move to the light switch in his living room, gesturing to ask if it's alright as you hit the dimmer.

Even in the dim light, Spencer can see how beautiful you are. He can make out the features of your face if he trains his eyes hard enough, and that's exactly what he's doing. Trying to watch your face, even as you're sauntering towards him, hiking up the hem of your dress.

"You okay?" Your tone was playful and light, two things Spencer did not feel capable of being right now. He felt completely serious as you placed a hand loosely on his shoulder, dragging it along his body as you circled the back of his chair, across his back and bracing his neck. Cupping under his jaw so tenderly before letting go. It lit up each nerve ending that came across your path.

You were behind him again, sliding both your hands down the front of his chest with soft pressure, dragging them down as your lips came to ghost near his neck. Your face just barely touched his skin, grazing it in a feather-soft way that made him tickle.

Each cell in his body came to attention under your touch. His eyes almost drifted shut to succumb to the feeling, but then you stood in front of him, swaying your hips gently as you sunk down towards the floor, bracing your self with a hand on each of his knees

As you came up, your hands slid up his thighs, using him as a brace to bring your body closer to his, diving towards him with your chest to his face. You moved slow on the way up, giving him time to appreciate the cleavage revealed by the skimpy dress as you did.

His eyes were still locked on yours, cowering under the attention and to nervous to look anywhere else.

"I-I don't know what to do with my hands," he chuckles, blushing hard.

You hum, turning around and taking a seat on his lap, pushing your hips slowly back until they met his crotch. You gave him a soft grind before letting your back fall to his chest, wrapping one arm around his neck. Taking his free hand into your own, you placed it gently around your thigh before trailing it up your body, allowing him to push the hem of the dress further up as your hands travelled towards your chest. You let his fingers toy with the lace edge of your panties for a second before ghosting them over the swell of your chest, skimming just briefly and teasingly, before dropping his hand back to his side.

Lifting up from your hips, you suspended your body over his, rolling in slow motion just above his lap, barely making contact with his body as he watched you. Still using his chest to bear your weight with your arms hooked around his shoulders, able to crane your neck to the side and place soft kisses on the shell of his ear before sighing deeply into it.

On instinct, his hands fly up, gripping your waist and bringing you back down to him against his hard dick. Immediately, he dropped his hands, feeling suddenly rude for being so forward and demanding. Instead, he was rewarded with a gracious bounce of your ass against him, a few times before grinding deeply against him.

Just as a groan fell from his lips, your fingernails scraped against his shoulder, ducking under the collar of his shirt to feel the bare skin. His hips buck up in reaction, and he's quickly embarrassed again.

"It's okay," you coo, running your hand through his hair. He follows your fingers as they run through the strands, chasing after them, so you provide him with a gentle tug. He bites back a moan and you tug harder, determined to make it fall from his mouth.

He lets out a surprised gasp and his arm wraps over your waist, weighing you down so you couldn't move too far from him. You almost want to tease that clients are never allowed to touch the dancers like this, but you fear that then he might stop. So, you don't.

Just for his benefit, you give him a deep, exaggerated moan right in his ear as you roll against his dick, allowing your free hand to wrap over the arm gripping your waist so tightly. When he starts subtly shifting in his chair, you can feel him getting closer.

He starts rolling his hips in time with yours, pushing them into you as you shift yours back, pressing your bodies ever closer. His eyes flutter shut as he bunches up the fabric of your dress, knotting it in his hands as he tries to hold himself back.

You break another rule when you wrap your lips over his earlobe, sucking it softly into your warm mouth before releasing, "It's okay."

It's all the permission he needs, both of his arms now pinning you against him. He gasps as his hips jut up, staggered and out of rhythm, a few times before he lets out a strangled moan, spilling his release inside his trousers.

It was never your intention to let it get this far, but you're so glad it did when you see his face, covered in a light sheen of sweat and pupils blown with lust. His naturally plump, pink lips are red and swollen from biting down so hard. That slicked-back hairdo he had before is now tousled up from your fingers knotting through it. He looks nothing like that shy, innocent boy who opened his door to you just thirty minutes ago. He's something else entirely, panting for air as he comes down from his climax.

When his eyes open again, they still look at you as softly as they did before. With the same admiration, and maybe now a deeper level of want.

You've never been one to be at a loss of words, but you truly don't know what to say now that you've seen your very cute neighbor come undone under you. And that he looks at you so sweetly despite what's just transpired. You keep it light and playful just as before as you climb off of him, searching for your phone and purse while he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean up.

While he's gone, you hear the maintenance guy coming down the hall, and you have no reason to stay. Just as you go to leave, he comes back out, and he hides his disappointment poorly because you look like you're making a quick escape. But when you see him, your hand leaves the doorknob and you turn to say goodbye.

His long legs carry him across the length of the room quickly, stopping just short of you, and you notice just how tall he is as he towers over you. His eyes flicker between yours and your lips, wanting to kiss you, but unsure where the boundary lies.

You lean forward to kiss him, the gap between you narrowing and your eyes drifting closed.

"Can I take you out?" he stops you in your tracks. He starts panicking internally, taking your stunned silence as a rejection. "Like, on a date? Is that... is that okay?"

Then you finally lung forward, crashing your lips over his as you bring him down to you by his neck, pulling him closer. His mouth chases yours as you separate, and you leave a trail of sweet pecks over his lips and chin, smiling at him and nodding, "It's okay."

-

-

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losing heart | hjs

pairing: gamer!jisung x female reader

genre: f2l, fluff, romance, angst

warnings: slight language

word count: 10.2k

summary: after meeting and starting to date your close online friend of a few months, you start to realize that maybe you might have been better off staying online.

a/n: this is my first fic and I really hope it's enjoyable, I worked really hard on it and hope it meets any expectations. I also wanted to thank

@softbbyg0rl

for being so kind as to help me proofread this and actually help me expand upon it, I'm really thankful for their help and this probably wouldn't be half of what it is without them helping me out. I am indebted to them /j. I also had another friend help me read over this and I promised them a jeongin x reader in return, so expect that in the near future!

Video games had never been an issue for you before. You enjoyed them yourself normally, occupying yourself with various titles and genres of video games. Growing up you were known as the nerdy kid, finding interest in things that the other kids deemed ‘weird’. Really it was just that they were closed minded and couldn’t accept anything that was different or new. Anime and video games were entertaining, it didn't matter to you what other people thought about it. It was something that had helped you bond with some of your family members, and had helped you make a few friends over the years, one of them being your current boyfriend, Han Jisung.

The two of you had met online in a game you both enjoyed, Genshin Impact. Normally conversation in this game wasn’t much, just asking what the other needed and helping the other out with it. Things like domains, bosses, etc. After that was all said and done, you said your goodbyes and left, more than likely never encountering the other player ever again. When you and Jisung had met in the game however, things had gone much differently. It was only after about an hour of grinding domains that he had asked for your Discord, the two of you chatting on there for a few weeks before you both mustered up the courage to voice call. A few weeks after that, it was video calls. Only a couple months later, you two were very close friends, playing games and hanging out whenever you both had free time.

How quickly you two had clicked was a mystery to the both of you, but even your online friends were surprised at how fast you had let Han Jisung into your circle. Normally you were very particular about who you spoke to, let alone on a daily basis. Whenever you first met someone you usually spent the first few weeks getting a read on their personality and getting to know them before even thinking about actually getting close to them. It seemed Jisung had just rubbed off on you so quickly you hadn’t had a chance to actually go through your usual process.

When Jisung had suddenly brought up the idea of meeting in person just six months after first meeting each other online, it came as a shock to you, not expecting him to be the one to suggest it since you had learned he was actually an introvert despite his online persona. You had both learned that you lived relatively close to each other, having discussed where you lived previously. It was still about a two hour trip from your house though. Jisung of course had suggested he be the one to travel, but you didn’t want to cause him any more anxiety than he already had and told him you’d be more than willing to do the traveling.

A week was all it had taken for you to get on a bus and travel from your hometown to his. Jisung was texting you the entire ride there, clearly nervous with how many questions he was asking, probably wondering to himself if he should just call it all off. Your other online friends had gotten quite jealous since you hadn’t even met them yet, but you had to remind them just how much further away they were compared to him. They couldn’t argue with that. The two hour ride hadn’t felt long, your legs relieved to be standing upright as you exited the bus, holding your bag close as you looked around nervously. You had never done something like this before, and you honestly hadn’t even realized just how nervous you were up until now.

Scanning the busy sidewalk, you squinted, nibbling on your bottom lip as you struggled to focus, your heart slamming against your chest. Having to wear masks didn’t make things any easier, only being able to see the top half of people's faces really limited your ability to recognize someone you had only ever seen over the phone. After a few minutes, you had begun to wonder if Jisung had up and ditched you. Scrambling for your phone, you nearly dropped it, hissing as you unlocked it and looked over your messages with Jisung. He had said he was on his way to the bus stop a half an hour ago. It couldn’t take him that long could it?

About to call him, you walked over to the bench and sat yourself down, pressing the dial button and placing the phone up to your ear, looking around sheepishly, silently wondering if you were going to be ghosted and have to take another two hour drive home. Faintly you could hear the sound of a phone ringing, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you turned your attention to the source, seeing a rather short male with bleach blonde hair running towards the bus stop with a motorcycle helmet in hand. It was only moments before the male wearing all black actually reached the stop, looking around, locking eyes with you for a moment before pulling out his phone that was ringing and taking less than a second to look at the caller ID before answering.

“Y/n? I just got here- Where are you?” He questioned, nearly making you scoff into your phone’s receiver as you stood up, looking directly at him and cocking an eyebrow.

“Right in front of you.”

The slow turn and the look of realization was more than comical. Jisung’s eyes widening and then scrunching as he smiled under his mask. Hanging up the phone he slowly walked over, rubbing the back of his neck as he cleared his throat, shaking slightly with anxiety. “I uh, I’m sorry for getting here late. I kind of ran into an issue and had to do some last minute problem solving.” He explained, earning a head tilt from you. “What kind of problem?” You asked, wanting him to elaborate.

A quiet chuckle left his lips as he held up the motorcycle helmet he was holding, motioning back towards a bike that was parked on the side of the road. “I only had one. So I had to go and buy another.” You were sure your expression had matched Jisung’s from just moments before, in shock as you realized the motorcycle was his. If he was slow at realizing you were right in front of him, you were slow in realizing something much more obvious. “You never told me you drive a motorcycle…” You trailed off, Jisung nodding slowly in agreement.

“Ride a motorcycle but yeah. It never really came up and I’m not one of those people who constantly brags about riding one. It’s just a mode of transportation and happens to be cheaper than a car.” He shrugged, and honestly, you couldn’t argue with his reasoning. Clearing your throat, you shrugged your bag further up onto your shoulder, shifting your weight back and forth on your feet. “Well, I’m here. Now what?”

Jisung paused for a moment, seemingly processing your words before motioning towards his bike once more. “I figured we could go back to my place. I figured I’d order food since I’m not the best cook as you know. Almost burnt down my apartment on multiple occasions. My roommate is there, but he’s really chill. You’ve heard him every now and then on call or on mic. He normally keeps to himself, but I already told him about you coming and he doesn’t mind.” He stopped, thinking about whether or not that was everything he was wanting to say. “...Yeah. Unless you don’t feel comfortable with that of course. We can always go somewhere public and just hang out like that.” He offered, clearly not wanting to make you do anything you didn’t want to do.

“No, that sounds great.” You assured him, seeing his eyes scrunch as he smiled again, nodding happily. “Okay cool, let me just-” He stepped forward, getting alarmingly close and leaning forward. It felt as if your heart had stopped beating and the world was moving in slow motion around you. But before you could let your mind wander too far, Jisung placed the helmet he had been holding on your head, knocking you right out of your trance. “-ouch…” You mumbled, Jisung leaning back just slightly to look you in the eyes.

“Sorry, it’s kind of heavy, but it’ll keep your head intact.” He joked quietly, making sure everything was tight, locked and secure before stepping back and flipping the shield to cover your face, smirking slightly as he smacked the top of the helmet. “You good in there?”

Rolling your eyes, you flipped the shield back up to glare at him, smacking his arm as he laughed. “So you’re an ass in person too?” Jisung clicked his tongue before snapping his fingers and shooting finger guns at you. “You know it.” You were internally cringing, but before you could even think about teasing him for it, he was walking over to his bike and you had no choice but to follow, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

You watched as he got on his bike, pulling his helmet on with ease and starting the engine, the loud sound making you flinch. If Jisung noticed this he didn’t comment on it, simply looking over at you and moving his head to the side, signaling for you to get on the bike. You had never rode one before, so this was a nerve wracking situation. What happened if you fell off? What if you got into an accident? Your mom had always told you just how dangerous motorcycles were. What if this was a bad idea?

Suddenly, Jisung was off of his bike and his hands were on your waist, lifting you up and onto the motorcycle, flipping your face shield back down before getting back on himself. He kicked the stand up so he was now balancing the bike himself. Looking back at you, he raised his voice so you could hear him over the sound of the motor. “I’d suggest you put your arms around me unless you wanna fall off.” Mean, but you knew he was just trying to tease you. You didn’t waste any time to wrap your arms securely around his waist, your head resting against his back. You swear you could feel him laugh as he flipped his face shield down, but you didn’t have any time to really think about it before he was off, riding down the streets of Incheon with you clinging to him for dear life.

The ride to his apartment felt like forever when in reality it only took a few minutes. Your grip on him hadn’t loosened in the slightest, far too afraid of falling from the motorcycle. Even after he had parked and turned off the engine, you were still sticking to him, an audible laugh leaving his lips as he took off his helmet. “You plan on letting go anytime soon?” He teased, you only shaking your head in response. He snickered before carefully prying your hands off of his waist, getting off of the bike and helping you off before taking your helmet and tilting his head slightly, noting your expression. “Was it that bad? I tried to be a little less reckless than normal.” His tone was joking, but you could tell he was genuinely concerned he had scared you.

“N-No it wasn’t that bad, just not used to it.” You assured him, stumbling slightly as you tried to take a step forward, his arms quickly reaching forward and holding you so you didn’t fall. “Jeez, we’re lucky you don’t have very far to walk.” Again with the teasing. You weren’t surprised by it though, Jisung had always been like that when you two talked. You scoffed, hanging on to his arm as you steadied yourself. “Shut up Ji. Where’s your place?” You questioned, Jisung smirking before leading you towards the building, letting you hang on to his arm without much thought. He didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest despite having told you that physical contact made him nervous. You wondered what had changed. Carefully leading you inside and through the building, the both of you made it to his apartment, you finally letting go of him as he pulled out his keys and unlocked the door. If his roommate was home you weren’t sure why the door was locked, but you didn’t bother to question it as the door opened and Jisung motioned inside. “Ladies first.”

“When have you ever considered me a lady?” You joked, stepping into the apartment and looking around curiously, Jisung scoffing at your question as he shut the door behind the both of you. “Since always. You are one are you not?”

Shrugging, you didn’t answer his question, tugging at the straps on your bag as you walked further into the apartment. For some reason the decor didn’t really feel like it matched Jisung. After all, he had this whole e-boy/rocker look going on and you had fully expected the apartment to be messy and unorganized, but it was the complete opposite. It was clean, spotless even, and it made you wonder if he had cleaned simply because he knew you were coming to visit. Turning to look over your shoulder, Jisung smiled sheepishly, fiddling with a zipper on his leather jacket. “My roommate helped clean everything up. It doesn’t usually look like this.” He admitted, making you laugh and shake your head. “I figured as much.”

As if on cue, another male stepped out of a room in the hall, locking eyes with you and giving you a questioning look before noticing Jisung standing beside you, putting two and two together as a smile started to form on his face. “Oh, you must be Y/n-ssi.” He stated matter-of-factly, making his way down the hall towards the both of you and holding out his hand to you in greeting. You gingerly grasped his hand, smiling softly as he began to introduce himself while shaking your hand. “I’m Yang Jeongin, 01’ liner.”

Your eyes lit up at the realization that you were both the same age, “L/n Y/n, also 01’ liner.” You stated, watching as he relaxed a little realizing that he no longer needed to be so formal with you. The two of you let go of each other's hands, “Ah, well it’s nice to meet you Y/n. Jisung hyung has talked about you a lot.”

Raising an eyebrow, you glanced back at Jisung who smiled and shrugged as if to say he didn’t know what Jeongin was referring to. “I hope it was only good things.” You returned your attention to the male in front of you, watching as he chuckled and quickly nodded his head in agreement with your words. “Only good things. He’s always going on about how much he enjoys your company and how pr-”

“Yang Jeongin- '' Jisung cut him off suddenly, the younger male’s eyes widening before a mischievous smile crossed his face. The two males exchanged various expressions, you watching in confusion as they had a silent conversation with their faces. After a few moments, you cleared your throat, feeling awkward just standing between the two as they acted as if you weren’t right there. Snapping out of it, Jisung looked at you, quickly putting on a smile as he placed a hand on the small of your back, leading you towards the hall. “How about we hang out in my room, hm?”

“Wha- but I thought-” You trailed off, Jeongin following behind the two of you. “Seriously Jisung hyung? I thought we were all gonna hang out-” He mumbled, Jisung shaking his head as he practically pushed you into his room, stepping inside and shutting the door on Jeongin before the younger could hold it open. Locking it, Jisung turned to you, noticing your quizzical expression. He chuckled nervously, placing his hands in his pockets as he averted his gaze. “I just thought it might be better to hang out alone for a little while.” He stated, though his words sounded off, like he was only partly telling the truth.

You decided not to pry however, glancing at the door behind him. “What about Jeongin? He seemed upset.” Jisung shook his head, moving away from the door and closer to you. “He’ll be fine. He’s only being like that since we don’t normally have people over. After we hang out on our own for a while and go back out there he’ll forget about it.” He sounded so sure of himself that you had no reason not to believe him, nodding slowly as Jisung bit down on his bottom lip, seemingly debating something in his head.

“What’s up Ji?” You questioned, said male letting out a breathy laugh, not at all surprised that you had noticed something was going on in his head. “I uh- well I didn’t want to make it weird or anything but… I was wondering if I could give you a hug?” He sounded like he was nervous, and that suspicion was confirmed when you noticed how he was refusing to look at you, shifting back and forth on his feet. You found this cute, giggling quietly as you looked him over. You had just been practically glued to him while he was taking you back to his place on his motorcycle and now he was all shy and nervous because he wanted a hug?

Wordlessly, you crossed the remaining space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around his waist and looking up at him. Jisung tensed up slightly at your touch, remaining still for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, holding you close and resting his head on top of yours. “I made that weird didn’t I?” Snickering, you nodded, still keeping your hold on him but closing your eyes. “Just a little, but it’s fine. You make everything weird.”

An offended sound left his lips, earning a laugh from you as he pouted. “I do not make everything weird.” He mumbled, watching as you slowly pulled away and sat down on his bed, glancing around the room to actually take everything in. The decor in his room definitely made more sense, anime posters and figurines, manga, various instruments, LED lights adorning the ceiling, his gaming setup. It was all very Han Jisung. A light blush adorned Jisung’s cheeks as he cleared his throat and sat down beside you, nibbling the inside of his cheek. “Sailor Moon huh?” You teased, watching as his ears turned red with embarrassment.

“You’re gonna make me take all of this down right now I swear.” He huffed, eyeing you as you took your bag off and set it on the floor before falling back onto his bed, looking up at the ceiling and kicking your feet. “I think it’s cute. I like Sailor Moon too, she’s pretty.” You admitted, meeting his gaze to show that you were being honest.

“I mean, what’s not to like about her? She’s funny, sweet, caring, cute- plus she has a cute cat and super powers. Not only that but her outfit when she transforms is adorable. I’d wear that if I could.” You trailed off, watching as Jisung’s expression changed. You couldn’t read what it was, but there was a slight sparkle in his eyes as you spoke about his favorite anime character. “What are you thinking about?” You pondered, Jisung smiling as he snapped out of his trance, laying down beside you. “I just didn’t expect you to like Sailor Moon too. We never talked about that before so I didn’t even know you liked anime.” You considered his words before realizing that he was right, nodding slowly.

“I do. I watch it every now and then when I have time, but I grew up watching it. Dragon Ball Z, Sailor Moon, Naruto, the essentials.” The two of you talked about anime and your other interests besides gaming for a while, simply laying on Jisung’s bed as you both relaxed and spent time together, getting to know each other a little more. It was almost comical how easily you two got comfortable with each other despite having never met in person up until then. You both stayed there for about an hour before Jisung had brought up his music, asking you if you wanted to hear what he had been working on. Of course you obliged, sitting up as he grabbed his guitar and made his way back over, playing a few songs for you after getting over his initial nervousness to sing in front of you.

You praised him for how good he was at singing and playing the guitar, also mentioning just how thoughtful and beautiful his lyrics were. He turned bright red at your compliments, shaking his head as he put his guitar back, holding out his hand to you as he came back over, asking if you wanted to go out into the living room and watch some TV and order some food. Of course you agreed and took his hand, getting up and following him out of his room and into the living room where Jeongin was sitting, his eyes moving from the TV to the both of you. “Oh, are you finally gonna come out here and hang out?” You could tell he was upset, but not enough to cause his voice to sound angry.

Jisung simply nodded at his roommate, going over to the couch and scooting him over before sitting down himself and patting the empty spot beside him for you to sit. You made your way over to the two males, slowly sitting down as you looked at what Jeongin had been watching, some YouTuber playing a game you had never seen before. Looked like both of the boys were gamers, which made sense. Jisung took the remote from Jeongin, switching it from YouTube to Netflix and clicking his account before handing you the remote. “You can watch whatever you want.” He told you, pulling out his phone so he could order food, Jeongin looking over his shoulder as he mumbled to the older male what he felt like eating. You laughed quietly, shaking your head before returning your focus to the TV.

You picked out an animated movie you hadn’t seen in a while, reaching forward and setting the  TV remote down on the small table situated in front of the couch. Leaning back you noticed Jisung’s eyes glued to the TV, confused at his expression until Jeongin also looked up. “Ah, Jisung hyung watches this all the time. I think I’ve seen it at least twenty times.” He mumbled, your eyes widening as you leaned forward to grab the remote. “I can pick something else if you both have already seen this-” Jisung quickly reached forward, shaking his head as he took the remote and set it back down.

“No, it’s fine. If you want to watch it, we can watch it.” There was something different about his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what. Nodding, you went back to your previous sitting position, Jisung mumbling something you didn’t catch before handing you his phone. “What do you feel like eating?”

The three of you debated over what to eat for a while, mainly because you would suggest something, they would agree and you would go right back to asking them if they were really okay with what you had picked and then you were back to square one. Eventually you actually managed to decide on something, Jisung ordering for all three of you and then focusing on the movie. The three of you sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company. It was about halfway through the movie that the food arrived, Jeongin getting up before Jisung could, opening the door and thanking the delivery person before bringing the food in and shutting the door behind him. He quickly sorted out the food in the kitchen before bringing it all over, handing both you and Jisung yours before sitting down and starting to eat his own, not even bothering to wait or thank Jisung.

Giggling, you quietly thanked Jisung who shrugged it off, saying it wasn’t a big deal as he began to eat. The rest of the night was spent pretty much the same, the three of you watching various movies before Jeongin decided to retire for the night, saying goodnight to both you and Jisung before shutting himself in his room, leaving you and Jisung alone in the living room. Once the movie you were watching was over, Jisung cleared his throat, causing you to look over at him, feeling a little tired, but not trying to show it. Of course, it seemed like Jisung knew even with you trying to hide it, a soft smile on his lips as he slowly stood up. “You can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.” Always the gentleman.

You opened your mouth to argue but he shook his head before you could, “I’m not letting you take the couch. So either you take the bed, or I end up on the floor. If you sleep on the couch I’m sleeping on the floor, so either way I’m not sleeping in my bed. Would you rather me sleep on the couch or the floor?” He didn’t give you much choice, but you knew he wasn’t bluffing. Groaning, you lifted yourself off the couch, ignoring his cheeky laugh as he led you back to his room, turning on the light and showing you where everything was in case you needed it. He then reminded you that he’d be on the couch in the event you needed him for anything, saying goodnight and giving you another hug before leaving his room and shutting the door to give you some privacy.

Everything felt like a daydream up until that point, a sigh leaving your lips now that you were alone in his bedroom. You locked the door so you could change into your nightclothes. After you had done so, you moved to unlock the door, your attention grabbed by an out of place manga just after. You walked over, picking it up and moving to put it back in its place, only for pages to fall out of it, your eyes widening when you thought you had accidentally ruined something of his, only to notice when going to pick them up that they were song lyrics and different ideas for songs. You felt like you were invading his privacy, quickly trying to stuff the pages back into the manga before your eyes fell upon your name. Furrowing your eyebrows, you couldn’t help but look over the page, eyes widening.

There was a knock on the bedroom door and before you could react Jisung was already in the room. “Sorry I forgot that I need to get my clothes-” He stopped once he caught sight of you, clearly in shock with how he simply stood there. You smiled sheepishly, placing the paper you held back into the manga and closing it. “I didn’t mean to look through it. I was going to put it up because I saw that it wasn’t where it was supposed to be and then a bunch of pages fell out.” You tried to explain, Jisung finally moved to take the manga from you, setting it back down on his desk before looking you in the eyes.

“You read it didn’t you?” His voice was calm, but you could tell by how quickly his eyes were scanning your face that he was anxious to hear your answer. Nodding, you bit down on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say or do. Jisung sighed, taking a step back and running a hand through his bleached locks, “God- I didn’t want you to find that… I meant to tell you, like actually tell you. I wanted to send you that song once I had finished it.” He mumbled, his admission making your cheeks heat up a little. So you weren’t reading too much into everything.

Reaching forward, you pulled Jisung into a hug, clearly surprising him as he squeaked in surprise. “Wh-” Before he could even finish his question, you interjected. “I like you too Ji.” It was simple, it was to the point, it was the truth.  You felt Jisung tense in your grip before relaxing completely only seconds later, pulling you closer to him as he let out a breathy chuckle. “So, I don’t need to send you that song?” He questioned, looking down at you as you smiled. “I’d still love to hear it.” Smiling, Jisung leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think I’ll finally be able to finish it now.”

That was how everything had started, and that was what got you here. Laying in your shared bed staring up at the ceiling as the subtle sound of clicking and the drag of a computer mouse filled the room. You weren’t sure how long you had been laying here, but it had been a while. Slowly, you turned your body to the side, seeing your boyfriend's back turned towards you, facing his monitors, headphones over his ears. You weren’t sure when was the last time the two of you had actually spent any time together. In between work and his constant gaming addiction, it seemed you were always left to occupy yourself. When you got back from your job, he was usually asleep, so you’d climb into bed with him and sleep yourself. Almost every time when you would get up, he’d either be gone or sitting at his desk and playing video games. That was when your dislike for video games began.

Today was no different it seemed, a quiet sigh leaving your lips as you reached over to your nightstand, picking up your phone and checking the time. It was late. Though you could have guessed that by how dark the room was, the LEDs on the ceiling the only thing illuminating the room. They had been Jisung’s idea, but you hadn’t objected since you figured it would be both of your living space and he ought to have some things of his own as well. You felt a sinking in your chest as you came to the realization that your fear was more than likely true. You had gone off to work that morning hoping, praying that Jisung would at least remember your birthday. But it seemed he hadn’t, far too engrossed in his video games to even notice you were awake.

Gulping, you pulled yourself off of the mattress, deciding you weren’t going to make a big scene. You left the bedroom in silence, going out to the small living room of the apartment and sitting yourself down on the couch in front of the TV. You could feel tears pricking at your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Reaching forward, you turned on the TV, figuring a distraction would help keep all of your emotions at bay. That or it would drown out the sound of you crying once you finally broke, knowing it was only a matter of time before that actually became reality. You didn’t even bother to actually pay attention to what you had put on the screen, merely turning up the volume as you pulled your knees up to your chest, lowering your head so you could no longer see.

You weren’t sure where things had gone wrong. Really, nothing had. You and Jisung had been very happy from the beginning, and you had no issues up until you both actually decided to move in together. You thought that living together would have actually made it easier on the both of you, not having to manage your work/life load as much. Trying to date while living two hours away from each other and having jobs on top of that made things harder, but now that you two were actually living in the same apartment, it felt like you actually spent less time with each other. Odd how that worked.

In the moment, you were tempted to just grab your things and leave, overwhelmed with the amount of emotions you were feeling. Anger, sadness, betrayal, loneliness… it was all just piling on. It probably didn’t help that you never expressed how you were feeling, pretending everything was just fine when you knew it wasn’t. You were just never one to create a problem, opting to just suffer than make anyone else uncomfortable or feel bad. The sound of someone knocking on the door had forced any tears that were about to fall back into your tear ducts. You knew Jisung couldn’t hear with his headphones on, so you begrudgingly picked yourself off of the sofa, sulking over to the door and prying it open, looking out with a dead expression up until your eyes met ones you hadn’t seen in months.

“Chan?” You breathed, unable to believe he was actually standing in front of your apartment. When you had moved in with Jisung, you had moved to Incheon in order to not make it hard on him. This had caused you to leave your family and friends behind, including your friend since middle school, Bang Chan. He always had impeccable timing. Beaming, Chan held out a box that held a cake in it, a present in his other hand as he tilted his head sweetly, his curls falling just slightly. “Happy birthday Y/n! Surprised you didn’t I?” He chuckled slightly, watching as you took a step back, a hand over your mouth as you tried to contain yourself.

It seemed to be just enough to send you over the edge however, tears spilling from your eyes before you could stop them, a broken sob leaving your lips as Chan’s happy expression quickly changed to one of concern. “Oh God-'' He didn’t even ask to be let in despite having never visited yours and Jisung’s apartment before, stepping in, he shut the door with his foot. It took him only seconds to find a place to set down the cake and present he held, bending down slightly as he held your arms and tried to look you in the eyes, seemingly searching them for an answer. “Y/n what’s wrong?” He had known you for so long, there was no getting out of this one.

He knew that you never cried in front of anyone unless something was really wrong. That or you had been holding in your emotions for too long. This time it happened to be both. You weren’t able to blame it on being happy to see him, he’d be able to tell you were lying immediately. God why had he decided to visit you now of all times? Sniffling, you tried your best to stop crying, shakily wiping away your tears before Chan wiped the remainder away with his thumb, arching an eyebrow as he awaited an answer.

“I-I just… God…” You fumbled over your words, not exactly sure how to explain what was going through your head to Chan. Of course, it seemed he could sense this, taking your wrist and leading you over to the couch you had previously been curled up on, sitting you both down and smiling softly. “You can take your time Y/n. I’m not gonna rush you. Just tell me what’s going on and why you’re so upset.” He always had to be so understanding and kind. You just weren’t sure if he would be as understanding and kind to your boyfriend after you told him what was bothering you. He had always been overprotective and had even tried to talk you out of moving in with Jisung in the first place.

“O-Okay well, it’s really not that big of a deal. It’s just Jisung and I haven’t been spending much time together lately. I’m just lonely and upset.” You mumbled, watching Chan’s jaw harden at the mention of Jisung, his eyes narrowing and growing dark as he tried to put the pieces together. There were things you weren’t telling him and he knew it. “Is he busy with work?” He questioned, your heart clenching. Chan really was just going to get to the root of the issue wasn’t he?

“He is sometimes…” You trailed off, nibbling on your bottom lip as you avoided Chan’s gaze. You hated it when he got angry. It was rare for him to do so, but when he did, he was terrifying. “What about other times?” His voice was cool and even, showing no signs of anger, but you knew better. You knew he was probably itching to get his hands on Jisung and in your mind you were wondering whether letting him in was a good idea.

“Well… when he gets back from work he usually sleeps or plays his games. When I get back from work he’s either at his job, sleeping or gaming. I mean, gaming is his form of stress relief so… I get it. It used to be mine so I can’t really be upset with him for that. I can’t be mad at him for sleeping or going to work either. It’s not that big of a deal.” You were making excuses for him and you knew it. But you didn’t want Chan to lose his cool. The thought was more scary than spending your birthday alone. “So he’s choosing video games over you.” Chan stated bluntly, anger creeping into his voice.

Slowly, you decided to look at him, only to see he wasn’t even looking at you now, but rather around the apartment, one of his fists clenched as he tapped his foot against the hardwood floor. You didn’t respond to his statement, so it was only a few moments before he looked you in the eyes, giving you a look that told you to correct him if he was wrong. You searched your mind for something, anything, but you came up with nothing, gulping as you slowly lowered your head, sighing shakily. “I-I guess.” You whispered, feeling your body grow cold as you admitted it to yourself aloud. Chan cleared his throat, nodding as he looked around the apartment once again. “Is he at work right now?” The silence that filled the apartment was his only indication of that, but when you looked around, unsure, he could tell that he was wrong in his assumption.

“He’s here right now isn’t he?” He scoffed, the anger he had been holding back making a swift appearance as he got to his feet. Eyes widening, you quickly grabbed onto your friend's arm, knowing he could easily overpower you and do what he wanted, but he wouldn’t. He may know you like the back of his hand, but you knew him just as well. “Chan please. Don’t make this a big thing. I’m already upset and things getting out of hand is only going to make it worse.”

“Y/n-” Chan started, looking back at you, anger fading as he looked into your eyes, knowing that ultimately he was going to do whatever it was you asked of him. “Can I just talk to him? You and I both know that you don’t deserve to be treated like this.” He bargained, only causing you to shake your head in disagreement. “You know for a fact that you won’t be able to hold yourself back if you ‘just talk to him’.” You gave him a knowing look and he simply huffed, averting his gaze. He knew you were right.

“You brought cake right? How about we just have that and hang out? That’d make me feel better.” Chan’s tension had eased slightly at your request, taking a deep breath as he nodded, deciding he was simply going to appease you since it was your birthday after all. Getting off of the couch, Chan grabbed the cake and present he had set down in a hurry, going into the kitchen and setting it down once again. You followed shortly after him, looking over as he opened the box, a soft smile gracing your lips. He had remembered your favorite color. “It’s very pretty.” You praised. Chan clicked his tongue as he opened a pack of candles, starting to place them on the top of the cake. “Of course it is, I picked it out.” He teased, causing you to roll your eyes and smack his arm. “God you’re annoying.”

Snickering he shrugged his shoulders, pulling a lighter out of his pocket and carefully lighting the candles. “Yet you still miss me. Crazy how that works.” Looks like you two were right back to how you had always been. He wasn’t wrong though, you had really missed him. Being pulled away from everything you knew just for Jisung had been hard, but it had been something you were willing to do for your relationship. One you weren’t even sure was there anymore. Pulling you from your thoughts, Chan started singing. His voice had always been amazing. After he had finished, you blew out the candles, Chan grinning and ruffling your hair before pulling out the candles and starting to search the kitchen for something to cut the cake with. “So, what did you wish for?”

He always asked that question. Every single birthday of yours without fail. You always responded with the same thing. “You know I can’t tell you that. If I tell you it won’t come true.” Laughing, Chan shook his head, amazed that you still stuck by that. “You actually think that matters?” He questioned, earning a nod from you as you opened the drawer that held your kitchen utensils, pulling out a knife and handing it to Chan who thanked you before getting to work on cutting the cake. “Have any of your wishes come true that you haven’t told anyone about?” He pondered, the question making you think back on your previous birthday wishes.

“Mmm, there have been a few actually.” Chan gave you a questioning look, pausing as he did so. “Like what? Since they’ve already happened you should be able to tell me right?” You considered it before figuring that he was probably right, pulling out two plates and forks before sitting yourself down on one of the barstools that were placed along the island in the kitchen. “For my sixteenth birthday I wished for a skateboard and I ended up getting it that day.” You stated, Chan smirking as he continued to cut the cake, shaking his head.

“Maybe because you had been bugging your parents for it for a whole year. Only to never use it despite me telling you I’d teach you how to ride it.” He added in the last part just to chastise you, placing a piece of cake on a plate before handing it to you along with a fork. “I highly doubt that had anything to do with your wish.” You rolled your eyes as you took a bite of cake, humming quietly. He had remembered your favorite flavor of cake too. Of course he had.

“You don’t have to hate on me for believing in birthday wishes just because you don’t Chan. I get it, you’re too grown up to believe in something silly and childish like birthday wishes.” You could tell he got slightly irked by your words, scoffing as he got himself a piece of cake. “That’s not even it-”

“Then what is it?” You cut him off before he could finish, tilting your head slightly as you stared at him. Chan slowly took a bite of cake, looking you in the eyes, considering his next words carefully. “None of my birthday wishes ever came true. So I stopped believing in things like that. I think it’s endearing that you still do though.” He admitted, causing you to frown. “None of them? Not one?” You questioned, Chan seeming to think back on it as he stood there in silence, looking down at the cake. “Mm, I guess there was one that came true?” He sounded unsure, but you leaned forward in your seat, smiling as you waited for him to elaborate.

“I think it was my eighth birthday? The memory is kind of foggy, but I remember wishing for another sibling. It’s kind of dumb now that I think about it, but it did come true.” He shrugged, looking back up at you as you giggled while taking another bite of cake. “I’d say that’s a pretty big wish. The stars probably just figured that wish was enough for a while.” Chan rolled his eyes, snickering as he shook his head. “Yeah sure, whatever you say Y/n.”

The two of you enjoyed each other’s presence for a while, seeming to forget about the issue at hand which was exactly what you had been wanting. Not wanting to confront it or make a big deal out of anything. Chan was helping you ignore your problems and you were more than grateful, the male stating that he wanted to watch you open the present he had got you, so you both moved from the kitchen to the living room, the TV still playing whatever it was you had put on. Gingerly, Chan set the present on your lap, waiting patiently for you to open it.

You had always gotten nervous when it came to opening gifts. You were never a fan of surprises and presents were just wrapped surprises. Slowly, you pulled the tissue paper out of the bag, peeking inside. Your eyes widened once you realized what it was he had gotten you, gasping as you practically ripped it out of the bag, looking it over with wide eyes. “Oh my god- This is so expensive Chan. You really shouldn’t have.” You pried your eyes from the present to meet his gaze, seeing just how happy he was with your reaction to the gift. “I knew you’d like it. I’m sure you’ve been eyeing it for a while now. You always do that with the new lines.” He stated, making you nod in agreement.

“I actually had this in my cart for when I could afford it. It still scares me how well you know me. I never even told you about the new line.” Chan simply shrugged, acting as if it was no big deal. “What can I say, I’m just that good.” He chuckled, already leaning back as you reached forward to smack him.

For a few hours the two of you just sat and talked, not even realizing just how late it was getting. The two of you were making up for lost time, only able to talk over the phone or text, sometimes video call depending on just how busy the two of you were. Life as a producer was busy, that was also part of the reason you were so surprised he had shown up at your front door. It was the last thing you had been expecting. Just like you hadn’t been expecting Jisung to leave your bedroom. It seemed he and Chan had noticed each other’s presence before you had even noticed Jisung, standing silently in the hallway as he looked between the two of you. You immediately turned your gaze to Chan, seeing the look that was on his face before had returned. That wasn’t good.

“Who is that-?” Jisung finally spoke, looking at you with confusion and slight fear. It was then you remembered that Jisung and Chan had never officially met, your eyes widening as you motioned over to your childhood friend. “Chan. Bang Chan. I’ve told you about him, remember? My best friend since middle school.” You explained, Jisung’s expression growing more relaxed as he slowly nodded, remembering discussing him before. “Ah, yeah. We’ve never met before.” Jisung smiled, making his way over to the couch and holding out his hand.

Chan stared at it for a moment before deciding not to be a total ass. He took his hand and shook it, gripping it tightly before paying Jisung a sickeningly sweet smile. “No we haven’t. I’m sorry for not telling you before coming over but I thought I’d surprise Y/n for her birthday.” There it was. You had been expecting him to say something, but you hadn’t been expecting him to say it right out of the gate like that. Confusion was written on Jisung’s face for a moment before his eyes widened in realization, his gaze quickly flitting to yours. “O-Oh…” It seemed he finally understood the tension coming from Chan.

Slowly you lowered your gaze, fiddling with the present Chan had gotten you. Jisung took a moment to look at it before looking to the kitchen, seeing the cake sitting on the counter. “Y/n… I’m… I-I didn’t realize…” He stammered, unsure of what to say or do. After all, there wasn’t much he could do now. “It’s fine.” You mumbled out, forcing a smile as you looked up at him, hating to see just how upset and guilty he looked. Chan on the other hand, wasn’t having it.

“Look, I know it’s our first time meeting and Y/n told me not to make a scene, so I won’t. However, it’s not fine. You should know Y/n well enough to know that she doesn’t like to voice what’s upsetting her. You may be busy with work, or stressed, or whatever, but you ignoring her for your video games is something that shouldn’t be happening. Forgetting her birthday? Don’t you think that’s a little much? Do you see the problem? Y/n shouldn’t have to beg you for attention. You should be paying attention to your girlfriend regardless of what your work life is like and if you can’t handle that, you shouldn’t be stringing her along. She doesn’t deserve that and you know it.” His words were harsh and to the point, but he got across what he wanted to. Jisung gulped, biting on his lower lip as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“You’re right.” Jisung mumbled, hanging his head. “I’ve gotten so absorbed in gaming because of stress from work, but that’s not an excuse. I should have been paying more attention to Y/n, so much more attention. I-I honestly can’t believe I forgot her birthday. I didn’t even realize just how bad I was getting… I just…” He sighed, stopping himself as he turned from Chan to look at you, taking a few steps closer before bending down slightly to look you in the eyes. “I’m so sorry Y/n. Really I am. I don’t have any excuses. How I’ve been treating you is wrong and I realize that. I promise I’ll change.” He spoke softly, searching your eyes as he apologized.

You could tell he was being genuine, seeing tears pricking at his eyes as he spoke to you. “You’d better or I’ll come right back here and take her home with me.” Chan muttered, causing you to roll your eyes at him. “Chan-” You chided, earning a sigh from him as he stood up, placing his hands in the air as a sign of defeat as he made his way into the kitchen. “Sorry, I’ll give you guys a minute.” It was clear he didn’t want to, but he would do it for you.

Sighing quietly once Chan had left the room, you looked to Jisung and patted the part of the couch Chan had just been sitting on, waiting for Jisung to take his place before sitting crisscrossed and facing him. “Ji… I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not upset. I am. I’m really upset. I had honestly thought that you would pull through and remember my birthday but you didn’t. It honestly felt like a stab to the heart. However, I’m also not going to say you’re completely at fault since I haven’t been honest and voiced how I was feeling to you. Keeping quiet and just letting things get worse was my own doing and I’m sorry I didn’t communicate with you.” You mumbled, Jisung furrowing his eyebrows and shaking his head as he reached forward, taking hold of both of your hands. “Hey, no. You’re not taking the blame for this. You shouldn’t be apologizing to me when you haven’t done anything wrong. You never once forgot anything important to me and I forgot your birthday. That’s huge and I’m gonna be apologizing for it forever. I should have realized what I was doing to you. That was my fault not yours, okay?”

You frowned, getting ready to disagree. “I’m not budging on this one. You have no reason to be apologizing to me. You know I’m right.” You didn’t, but you weren’t going to argue with him. Once Jisung saw you were done trying to blame yourself, he sighed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your forehead, the memory of the day you had first met in person coming back to you. “I’m really really sorry and I’m gonna make it up to you somehow, I promise.” You hummed, closing your eyes as Jisung pulled you into his chest. This was more contact than you had with him over the past few months.

“You’re making a lot of promises tonight Han Jisung.” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around him and looking up as he nodded in agreement. “I know, but I plan to keep them. I’m going to change and I’m going to make it up to you.” Smiling faintly, you hummed again, not wanting to say anything else as you rested against your boyfriend's chest, closing your eyes as you allowed yourself to relish in his presence. You hadn’t fully forgiven him, you were sure he knew that as well, but you were just glad the biggest thing was out of the way and you wouldn’t have to tiptoe around the issue anymore. The rest of it would be him regaining your trust and fulfilling his promises. “Happy birthday baby.” A quiet mumble left Jisung’s lips as he kissed the top of your head, earning a smile from you.

“Technically her birthday has already passed. It’s nearly two in the morning.” Chan suddenly cut in, causing both you and Jisung to turn and look at him, you with a glare and Jisung with a questioning gaze. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I see you two have made up for the most part so uh, seeing as I traveled two hours to get here, you both mind if I crash on the couch?” You opened your mouth to speak, but Jisung beat you to it. “Sure, it actually pulls out into a bed since my old roommate comes over sometimes and crashes. I can set it up for you.” His sudden agreement surprised you, but you decided not to question it, Chan nodding as he motioned towards the door.

“Cool. My stuff’s in my car so I’ll be back.” He then left without another word, Jisung watching him go before looking back at you. “Am I sleeping on the floor then?” He questioned, causing you to roll your eyes. “Ji, when have I ever made you sleep on the couch or anything like that?”

He smiled faintly, shrugging his shoulders as he lifted himself off the couch before helping you up. “Well technically the first day we met.” Shaking your head you went to the kitchen, putting the cake and everything else away as Jisung moved things around in the living room before pulling the couch out into a bed. “You were the one that didn’t let me sleep on the couch. I was going to, but you forced me to sleep on your bed.” As Jisung was fixing the pillows, Chan walked back into the apartment, this time locking the door behind him. He set his things down by the couch, giving Jisung a sideways look when their eyes met. “What-?” Jisung trailed off, looking down at the bed before looking back up at Chan.

“Blankets?” Jisung’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh yeah right, sorry.” He swiftly turned and walked down the hall towards the small closet that held clean blankets and pillows they kept aside. From the kitchen, you gave Chan a look that told him to knock it off, the male deciding to act like he had no idea what you were looking at him like that for. Jisung returned with blankets in hand, setting them down on the bed. “There, is this enough?” He questioned, Chan looking them over for a moment before simply nodding. “Yeah, that’s fine.” No thank you, no ounce of appreciation in his voice.

Jisung cleared his throat, nodding slowly before turning around and making his way into the kitchen where you were cleaning up and telling you that he’d do it. It took a bit of convincing, but eventually he had kicked you out of the kitchen, finishing up by himself. You huffed as you went over to Chan who was fixing his bed for the night. “You know you don’t have to be such an ass to him. He apologized.” You mumbled, keeping your voice quiet so Jisung didn’t hear. Chan sighed, straightening out the blankets before grabbing his bag and setting it on the bed, looking through his things. “I’m still pissed at him. He’s lucky I didn’t beat him into the ground. The only reason I didn’t is because you told me not to.”

“And I appreciate that, but he is still my boyfriend and I would like for you two to get along. I don’t want to have to play mediator any time you two are around each other.” There was silence for a moment before Chan sighed, nodding in agreement. “Fine. I’ll tone it down.” Smiling, you gave him a small hug, “Thank you.” You peeped, him only groaning in acknowledgement.

“Where’s your bathroom so I can change?” You showed him to the bathroom before starting back down the hall towards the kitchen, only to meet Jisung halfway, him holding your gift from Chan in his arm, folded nicely. He lifted it, smiling sheepishly. “He’s really good with gifts huh? I know you’ve been eyeing this thing since the new line came out.” You were genuinely surprised he had known that since he had been so preoccupied the last few months. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he seemed to notice. “You leave your tabs open a lot on your laptop. When I wake up for work you usually leave it out, so I noticed that you were looking at it fairly often.” He explained, your eyes widening slightly. “Oh… I didn’t even realize.” You half-whispered, Jisung chuckling quietly.

“I’ll go put this up.” He smiled before brushing past you and into your room. Chan left the bathroom only moments after, changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants much like Jisung had been wearing as long as you’d been awake. “You should sleep. It’s late.” He spoke, causing you to nod before watching him make his way down the hall towards the living room. “Are you going to sleep?” You asked, knowing that he had issues sleeping, always had.

“I’m gonna try, but don’t let me keep you up. I’ll be fine out here, I’m a grown man you know.” He teased, earning a quiet laugh from you. “Okay, well thank you for everything tonight Chan. I really appreciate it.” Turning, he smiled, his signature dimple smile. “No need to thank me. I just expect you to travel two hours for my birthday now. I’ve set the bar high.”

Your playful banter went on for a while longer before you both said goodnight and you retired to your shared room with Jisung. Stepping inside you shut the door behind you, immediately noticing Jisung busy unplugging all of his gaming stuff. Your eyes widened, “Ji- This isn’t… I didn’t mean you had to-” You couldn’t even form words, Jisung turning to look back at you. “I know. I just think it would be best for me to stop completely for now. Get things back in order before I even think about introducing this back into my life. It got way out of hand and I don’t want that to happen again. So I’m prioritizing.”

“B-But that’s… don’t you think it’s too much?” Your voice was quiet, unsure as Jisung shook his head, unplugging one final cord and picking himself up off of the floor, dusting himself off. “No. Considering I’ve put you on the side burner for months now, I think it’s more than enough. Gaming will always be there, but I don’t want to lose you because of it.” Shifting uncomfortably, you picked at your fingers, unsure about the whole thing. Jisung walked over, pulling you into his arms and resting his head on top of yours. “I’m sure about this okay? So don’t worry about it.”

“Okay…” You trailed off, deciding that if it was Jisung’s decision, you didn’t have any reason to argue with him. “Okay. Well, how about we go to sleep, and since you’re off tomorrow, I can take tomorrow off, probably call in sick-- and we can go do something, just me and you? There’s a fashion show downtown I believe. You can wear your new present from Chan and you’ll be the best dressed person, along with the best looking. Then we can go out to eat, or before. Whatever you wanna do baby.” Smiling you relaxed in his grasp, “That sounds great Ji.”

[fireflykaizoku]

I know you already wrote 2 soulmate body switch fics. And this isn’t really a request unless you want it to be. But I was thinking about a version of this that I think you’d appreciate.

I’m imagining it for Ace or Sabo, where the reader is a member of the Revolutionary Army or Whitebeard pirates respectively, so when they switch bodies, Ace and Sabo are reunited 🥺😭 that’s all i really have to say, but I’m gonna keep day dreaming about it because I’ll never forgive oda for not letting them meet again 😩

That idea is amazingg omg i needed to write before i went to bed 😩 and yes, i'll never forgive oda for killing ace, and for killing ace before he could meet sabo again (or at least know he's alive ugh) oda, pay for our therapy!

You were part of the Revolutionary Army since you were young, around the same time Sabo joined too. Ever since then, you, Koala and him where very close friends. It was hard having free time being part of the RA, but it was New Year’s Eve, the three of you were docked at an island, so you decided it’d be a good idea to relax and celebrate the holiday.

— And maybe next year I’ll finally meet my soulmate. — you said, before the toast with your best friends. — I’m sure it will happen next year.

— Don’t rush it, I didn’t meet mine yet, and it’s alright. Koala didn’t met hers either yet either. — Sabo giggled. — There’s still time.

— I know, but feels like it will never happen... — you sighed, then you heard the people at the bar starting the countdown. — It’s almost midnight!

You forgot about the soulmate subject, and just decided to party, drink a bit, and rest a little during the two days off. You waited long enough to meet this person, you were sure you could wait more.

The first day of the year was already over, and you went to bed early this time not just because of your hangover, but also because you’d sail first thing in the morning.

You opened your eyes feeling a lot better, but instead of waking up at the hotel room you were sharing with Koala, you were alone in a bed you don’t remember seeing before. Feeling freaked out thinking some enemy took you while you were asleep, your first thought was to get up and get a weapon before leaving the room and explore. But as soon as you jumped out of the bed, you noticed the body was different than yours, the shorts weren’t yours, and that belt with the letter “A” for sure wasn’t yours.

Then it hit you. You finally switched bodies with your soulmate! After waiting for so long and almost losing hope! You just needed to find out who this man is, and you also needed to contact Sabo somehow. What if this man was someone dangerous? If he found out you were part of the RA, it wouldn’t be good.

You left the room and there was also lots of noises outside, with men laughing and talking. Some man greeted you, calling you “second commander”; you just smiled back, trying not to raise any suspicions.

When you finally found a bathroom with a mirror, you notice how handsome your soulmate was, with dark hair, freckles, and a tattoo on his arm. You kept looking at the reflection, just appreciating how cute he was. He wasn’t just a good looking man, but you remembered the wanted poster you saw once, that man was Portgas D. Ace, also known as Fire Fist Ace, part of the Whitebeard Pirates. Now the “second commander” made sense.

— Ace, are you okay yoi? You’ve been here for a long time. Is it hangover? — someone knocked on the door.

— I’m fine. — you replied quickly. — Just give me a minute.

When the footsteps were far, you took a deep breath. Whitebeard was indeed a powerful man, he probably could help you somehow.

You walked towards the deck, only to find Edward Newgate sitting outside. That man was huge and intimidating, way more intimidating than any other pirate you ever met so far. You were nervous, but approached him anyway.

— Good morning, son! — he smile. — So, any luck with your soulmate yet? If not, don’t worry. I told you, it will happen eventually and there’s no rush.

It was not the interaction you were expecting, and when the man noticed your eyes wide open in surprise and the cheeks getting red, he just knew.

— You’re not Ace, are you? — he asked, you shook your head as a “no”. He didn’t seem angry, he seemed quite curious. — Then tell me more about yourself, let’s find a way for you two to switch back soon.

You said you were part of the Revolutionary Army, the island you were before you woke up in Ace’s body, and also that by now, your friends would be on their way to the next mission.

While the Moby Dick rushed trying to find the RA ship, you had the opportunity to talk to Whitebeard and his crew. The men were very curious, asking questions about your life, how you looked like, and then started telling everything about Ace. The crew told you how your soulmate fell asleep out of the blue, how he ate a lot, was very kind, hot headed with no pun intended, and little things they knew about his life. Some of the men said you were very lucky to have him as your other half.

It was the middle of the night when you spotted the ship docked at the same island. As you got closer, you were able to see three people talking.

— There! They’re still there! — you said excitedly, not just so you could switch back to your body, but also because you couldn’t wait to finally meet your soulmate.

When the Moby Dick docked, you ran towards the ship as fast as you could.

— I told you I'm not saying my name, I don’t even know who you are. — you heard a familiar voice say. — I’ll call Dragon and see what he can do about it. What a bad timing for (Y/N) to find their soulmate.

— I already told you, my name is Ace! — someone replied. — I need to find my crew! Look, we can stay here the whole night, but make it simple and just let’s try to solve this! I know they're with the Whitebeard Pirates!

You followed the voice, smiling.

When Sabo first laid his eyes on your, or well, on Ace, his eyes widened, jaw dropped and he went silent for what felt like ages. You, Ace and Koala got worried, and started shaking the blonde, expecting a reaction from him. What made him act so strange?

— Sabo… — you asked, holding him by his shoulder and gently shaking the man. — Are you okay? What happened?

— It’s you… It’s Ace. You’re Ace. — he said, not even blinking while looking at you, and feeling the teardrops fall down his cheeks. — I remember now. I remember everything! You’re my brother!

You looked at the raven haired boy, who seemed to be just as surprised, while you just wanted to know what is going on. Sabo had a brother and never told you about him?

— Wait, your name is Sabo? My brother Sabo? — he bit his lip to avoid crying, approaching the blonde. — You’re… You’re Alive!

They hugged each other so tight and let the tears fall. It felt like nothing around them existed. You and Koala just heard the sobs, not knowing what was happening, but you didn’t have the heart to interrupt this moment. It probably meant something very important to them.

— Luffy and I, we thought you were dead. — Ace said, trying to breathe between the sobs. — I can’t believe you’re alive.

— I forgot so many things for years, I didn’t remember anything from our childhood. — he took a deep breath. — But now I saw you and remembered everything.

They had this moment for a long time, crying and laughing, laughing and crying again. When they finally explained everything, it felt like a story out of some movie, and all you could say was “wow”.

— Wait, we need to switch back… — Ace said. — We need to kiss!

— Do you think this is going to work? We just met… What if… — he interrupted you.

— Don’t worry, we can try anyway. And if it doesn’t work, we just try again as many times we need.

You looked at Sabo and Koala, who were standing looking at both of you, also curious if this was going to work or not.

— Oh, okay. — the blonde broke the silence, starting to walk to get in the ship. — We’ll leave you two alone. See you guys later.

When you and Ace were finally alone, you two moved closer, just looking at each other for a while, feeling his breath so close. Your hands were cold, your heart was beating fast and your mouth was getting dry. Before you could think much, he stole the kiss, softly and gently at first as if he was simply asking for permission, but then it became so intense and passionate. It felt like the man wanted to hold you so tight and savor every second of it, afraid it was just a dream.

— I spent so many years of my life feeling like I wasn’t worth of love, so it wasn’t hard to fall for you. — he whispered. — You’re my soulmate, I guess I loved you before we even met.

[asweetprologue]

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@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: Favorite Food Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier Rating: G Content Warnings: None Summary: Jaskier gets Geralt a gift, and it makes Geralt realize he doesn't know enough about what Jaskier likes. He forms a plan to figure it out. ao3

The small cheesecloth package that was dropped in front of him wasn’t necessarily a surprise, but the way that Jaskier hovered as Geralt picked it up was.

“What’s this?” he grunted, sniffing the air subtly. The little package smelled like honey and flour and cream, and the thick, sweet smell of-- “Are those dates?” He pulled the cheesecloth off to reveal a neat little tart, gently browned on the edges, about the size of his palm.

“It is!” Jaskier leaned over him slightly, his arms holding several more packages. He continued, sounding a little nervous. “I know you don’t usually enjoy sweets, but I know the dates are your favorite. Must feed that witcher metabolism, no?”

“No,” Geralt eyed the tart. “Our metabolism is more efficient, not faster.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, deflating slightly. “Well, if you don’t want it I guess I can--”

“How did you know that date was my favorite?” Geralt interrupted, looking back up at Jaskier. Oddly, he could see the bard color slightly at the question, an appealing pink spreading across his cheekbones.

“You bought a jar of jam from that merchant from Toussaint, remember? You never buy jam, unless it’s for me, so I assumed you must have a preference for it. I mean, unless you don’t, which is fine, I can… Well, not eat it, I hate dates, but I’m sure I can find some mangy child to give it to, or a dog, or something. Do you hate it? You hate it.”

Geralt picked up the tart and bit into it, giving Jaskier a raised eyebrow. It was honestly more of a miniature pie than a tart, the flaky crust filled with dates and prunes covered in a custardy filling, sweetened through with honey. The flavors burst across his tongue, the tart still warm. Jaskier must have picked it up at the market and come directly here to give it to him. Geralt swallowed the first bite, looking into Jaskier’s apprehensive face, and said, “Thanks.”

Jaskier visibly relaxed, shuffling onto the bench across from Geralt and beginning to relay the events of the morning market. Geralt hummed where he was meant to and sipped his watered down ale and ate his tart. If Jaskier noticed his absent mindedness, he said nothing.

Jaskier… knew what his favorite fruit was. The knowledge should not have come as a shock, Geralt knew. Jaskier was often getting him gifts - oil for Roach’s tack, new clothes when Geralt’s last threadbare shirt gave out, potion ingredients when he ran low. Sometimes he bought Geralt useless things, little bobbles or trinkets he saw that he thought Geralt might like or find amusing, and Geralt kept them safely at the bottom of his bag, or in his room at Kaer Morhen. He cherished those things, things that told him Jaskier thought about him when he wasn’t near. It was nice, to be thought of.

But for some reason this little gift felt different. Jaskier had known his favorite food, and Geralt had never told him. Dates weren’t particularly common in the North, and it was rare that they were far south enough to meet merchants who carried them up from Nilfgaard. Geralt could remember when he’d bought the jam, hoping it would last him a while, but he couldn’t recall a single other time in recent memory that he’d eaten dates, or even mentioned them. He didn’t tend to wallow on things that were unavailable to him.

His eyes lingered on Jaskier as he spun a tale about haggling in the square. No, Geralt didn’t make a habit of wishing for what he couldn’t have.

Still, there was a problem at hand, one he had to solve. Jaskier knew Geralt’s favorite food. He might know Geralt’s favorite everything. Did he know that Geralt’s favorite color was blue, the wide, free color of the sky on the first day of spring? Did he know that Geralt’s favorite thing to drink wasn’t wine or vodka, but warm honeyed milk like his mother made when he couldn’t sleep as a tiny child? He certainly knew that Geralt liked the scent of chamomile and sage best in his bathwater, and that he preferred cotton shirts over linen, and that he would pick a song with a sad ending over a happy one. If he’d been paying this much attention, there was probably quite a lot that Jaskier knew about him, without Geralt having said a word.

And he didn’t know a thing about Jaskier.

What was Jaskier’s favorite color? Was it blue, like the doublets he so often wore, or was that just to match his eyes? Did he really like wine the best, or did he just like it better than ale? What was his favorite season? His favorite weather? Did he go to Oxenfurt every winter because it was where he could find work, or did he prefer Novigrad, or Vizima? Geralt could tell how Jaskier was going to react every time someone recognized him on the street, anytime a young lad or lass winked at him, even what he might say if Geralt gave the right sort of hum. But he didn’t know much about him, at the end of the day.

He needed to find out. As they packed up their belongings and set out on the road once again, leaving the small town behind them, Geralt ruminated on what could be done to rectify this situation. He couldn’t very well just ask Jaskier about all these things. After all, Jaskier had figured it all out with nary a word from Geralt. He didn’t need to ask; he was paying attention. Which made Geralt’s chest feel oddly warm and heavy, knowing that Jaskier was watching him, paying heed to his reactions and filing them away. Maybe it should have felt invasive, to know that he was being read so easily without his knowing, but instead it just felt… nice. To be known.

He wanted Jaskier to feel known too. He wanted to know Jaskier.

He would start small. Jaskier had given him food, something he knew Geralt would like. It couldn’t be that difficult to figure out what Jaskier liked. Geralt could start bringing him small things, pass it off as returning the favor, and guage Jaskier’s reaction. It would be simple, he mused, eying Jaskier from atop Roach as they walked side by side. His hair was mussed slightly from sleep, still, and he hadn’t bothered to fix it before heading out for the day. No one to impress, Geralt guessed, just the two of them and the road. He liked Jaskier this way, less pinned up and proper, more open. Letting Geralt see him without all of his armor, because that’s what it was, as surely as the leather on Geralt’s back was his. Right now, Jaskier was an open book. All Geralt had to do was pay enough attention to read him.

*

It was not easy to figure out what Jaskier liked.

The problem, Geralt quickly found, was that Jaskier was enthusiastic about almost everything. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. When he disliked something, he made his distaste abundantly clear. He was dramatic, which should have made it even easier to determine what delighted him the most. Geralt expected that, when he found it, poetic stanzas would be flowing like wine from Jaskier’s tongue, praising whatever it was. He had no reason to expect Jaskier to be subtle about his preferences.

And he wasn’t. The issue was that he seemed to react with the exact same level of excitement about everything Geralt brought him. On the first day they arrived in a new town, Geralt went to the market and brought Jaskier a small basket of strawberries, which Jaskier enthused over for half the morning. Geralt was pleased. Maybe it had been that easy, and he’d intuitively known what Jaskier liked. Maybe he had unconsciously been paying attention all along. He congratulated himself on figuring out at least one piece of the puzzle, and began thinking about how he might approach the next step.

But then he unthinkingly bought Jaskier a few sweetbreads when he was out the next day getting lunch. He’d been getting himself some, he thought of Jaskier sitting in their shared room, composing a ballad about the hunt Geralt had been on the night previously. He’d brought him the extra meats, and Jaskier had nearly the same reaction. Gushing over the gift, thanking Geralt for thinking of him. Lamenting his own forgetfulness, for getting so caught up in his work that he would forget to eat, as Geralt expected he might have. And Geralt was confused, because he didn’t think a few offal from a market stall in a half pint city in Velen was what Jaskier would like. Certainly not something he could call a favorite.

But he’d reacted the same to the sweetbreads as the berries. So Geralt was back to square one.

He reevaluated his metrics. So Jaskier reacted that way to anything he liked, apparently. It was odd; Geralt had seen Jaskier enthusiastically dig into a wide variety of foods over the years, but he didn’t praise them and rave about them the way he had done the berries and the meats. So he must have legitimately enjoyed both of them more than he would any old dish. But neither of them had seemed to outweigh the other. He still didn’t know what Jaskier liked best.

Over the next several weeks of their travel, Geralt bought Jaskier enough tortas and crepes and stews that he knew it was boarding on suspicious behavior. If it was any other situation, any other two people, he knew it might come off like courtship. Every time he offered Jaskier some new morsel, he could feel the back of his neck grow hot at the implications. But Jaskier only ever grinned in delight at whatever Geralt offered him, flushed and pleased no more or less than he had been at all the others. If he suspected any sort of foul play, he never said anything.

It was infuriating. After three weeks of spending more coin that he cared to count at markets and roadside stalls and taverns, he was no closer to figuring out Jaskier’s favorite food than he had been at the outset. It all seemed to go over well, which was gratifying, but he couldn’t tell what Jaskier liked the most of it all. Maybe he just wasn’t as good at reading Jaskier as he thought. He’d thought he was a master of it, at this point - he could tell when Jaskier was tired during a performance, even though his smile never flagged; he could tell when Jaskier was being dramatic about an injury and when he was actually in pain; he could tell the difference between righteous anger versus petty versus hurt. In most respects he felt like Jaskier was an open book, but there was nothing in his reactions to Geralt’s gifts that said he was anything less than entirely pleased to receive them.

He was running out of ideas. Giving Jaskier gifts one at a time was clearly not working; either none of them were right, or Geralt was misremembering Jaskier’s enthusiasm for the ones in the past. He needed to give Jaskier a selection and see for himself what was best, side by side.

It took another week to plan, mostly due to location. They needed to stay in one place for a few days, so that Geralt could collect the things he would need, and it was rare that the two of them were in one town for more than a day. Large contracts were few and far between, and it never took Geralt more than a single night to clear out some ghouls or drowners from an area.

As luck would have it, however, they were only a few days out from Carreras. Geralt pointed them in that direction, claiming that they would likely be able to find multiple contracts in one place there, and that Jaskier could take a few days to play for their small selection of inns and taverns. It wasn’t entirely a lie; there probably would be more contracts posted in a larger settlement, which would mean a solid few jobs to refill Geralt’s pockets. He would need the extra coin to execute his plan.

The first two days of their stay were filled mostly with real work. The city had been having issues with contaminated water, which sent Geralt out to investigate all the wells, and by the time he found the drowner that had fallen into the water supply a full day had passed. He was able to fill another two contracts on their second day, but the triple confrontations over less than 48 hours left him feeling bruised and exhausted.

It was Jaskier who suggested it, in the end. Pulling a comb through Geralt’s hair as the witcher let himself soak in the bath, Jaskier said, “What if we stayed for an extra day or two? The crowds have been good, and Barclay - the innkeeper, I don’t know if you’ve spoken to him - he offered us a discount if I play tonight and tomorrow.” His hand fell to Geralt’s shoulder, warm and comforting. “You could… take a few days.”

It had been his plan to stay, but Geralt felt an ache behind his breastbone at Jaskier’s careful suggestion. Always trying to take care of him, as if Geralt were someone who needed protecting, someone who deserved something like a vacation. He didn’t think he did, but it was nice, as always, to think that Jaskier cared. “Hmm,” was all he said, a soft sound of agreement. His eyes slipped shut as he basked in the quiet content of Jaskier’s company, and they said nothing else on the matter.

The next day he felt rejuvenated, the burn of overexertion in his muscles faded after a hard night’s sleep. Jaskier had played after getting him out of the bath and settled into bed, but he’d returned later, smelling of sweat and rosemary and catgut. Geralt had slept well with his solid weight by his side, pressed into the too-slim bed.

He spent most of the day preparing. The market was busy and bursting when he found it in the afternoon, though not as packed as he was used to seeing in larger settlements like Novigrad. There was a bakery on the corner from which the rich scent of fresh bread spilled out into the square, and the people at the stalls were standing around amiably, chatting about local affairs and peddling their individual wares to one and other. It was a homey little trade network, and despite his strangeness, Geralt didn’t feel unwelcome.

He made several minor purchases before he found his way to the bakery. It wasn’t as crowded as he’d feared, and he waited until the one or two customers before him had made their way out. The woman working the counter was twig thin despite her occupation, thin blonde hair tied up away from her face and covered by a light cloth, probably to keep flour out of it. Her eyes were blue, pale as diamonds. Geralt couldn’t help but think that Jaskier’s were nicer.

He made her nervous, it was easy to see, but she quickly warmed to him when he told her what he was looking for. Whether it was his gold that excited her or his plan, he couldn’t say, but regardless she helped him pick out his desired items with enthusiasm.

“If you’re planning to use them later tonight, I can make up a basket and have it ready for you. So nothing goes cold,” she explained, her forearms resting on the counter. “The pies are really best that way.”

Geralt nodded, and handed over her coin.

Jaskier would be back soon from where he was playing the lunch crowd at one of the taverns. Geralt rushed back to their room and put the purchases he had with him at the bottom of his pack, a blanket spread over them. Jaskier returned not fifteen minutes later, flushed and grinning. A successful performance, then. Good. When Jaskier was in a good mood he was more amenable to doing what Geralt said. “When do you play this evening?” Geralt asked, not looking up from where he was cleaning his sword at the small table they’d been provided.

Jaskier set his lute case down gently against the wall and then flung off his doublet with much less care, flopping down on to the bed. Geralt forced himself to keep his eyes on his work, though the image that awaited him - Jaskier, spread out, his shirt falling open to reveal the smooth line of his throat and his sharp collar bones - burned against the back of his eyes anyways. “Not until nightfall,” Jaskier answered with a content sigh. “After the dinner crowd. Why? Do you have plans?”

“Do you remember where we stopped on the first day, the hill just before town? By the brook.” He set his steel sword aside and reached for the silver, which was the one that truly needed attention. So many contracts in a row had left her chipped in a few places, and dull all around. Geralt set his whetstone down, but didn’t draw it across the blade yet. Waiting for Jaskier’s answer. He felt his stomach twist with something like nerves, which was ridiculous. This wasn’t anything risky, anything that Jaskier would read into - probably. Probably.

“Sure,” Jaskier answered easily.

“Can you meet me there?” Geralt asked. “An hour or so before you have to play?”

He heard Jaskier sit up, could feel the bard looking at him curiously. His gaze warmed the side of Geralt’s face, and he refused to look up and meet those bright blue eyes. “Did something happen? Do we need to get out of town?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, amusement bubbling up within him. “No. Nothing bad. Just… meet me?”

Jaskier was silent for a long moment, long enough that Geralt gave up and turned to look at him. He was regarding Geralt with a curious expression, almost guarded. But all he said was, “Alright. I can do that.”

Geralt nodded, satisfied, and returned to his task.

*

He left before Jaskier, stating the need to drop by the herbalist's shop and that if he wasn’t back - as he didn’t intend to be - that Jaskier should go to the meeting place on his own. Geralt made his own way back to the bakery, where his basket of goods was waiting as promised. He tipped the girl well, and set out with his pack containing the blanket and other purchases on his shoulder, and the basket on his arm.

It was a nice evening, warm and thick with the last hints of summer. It would be fall soon; he could taste it in the faint hint of decay that lingered on his tongue whenever he took a deep breath of the air beyond the city. But for now it was still hot enough during the day that the evenings were comfortable. Geralt found his way back along the road to where they’d stopped to water Roach at the nearby stream, just before the landscape dropped down into the shallow valley that held the large town. He made his way off the path, far enough away that they wouldn’t be obvious from the road, to a raised patch of earth that looked down over the fields as they spread out below. It was a lovely sight, the landscape rich in the evening light, the dying sun casting the rooftops of the city in rich gold. Jaskier would appreciate the scenery, at least.

Geralt quickly set up, laying out the blanket and pulling out the supplies from the basket. He’d maybe gone slightly overboard. There was a meat pie, several stuffed rolls, a hearty cabbage stew in two small bowls kept covered by plates tied to them; a loaf of fresh rye bread, with cheese and jam and honey to go with it; berries and apples with cream; a plethora of desserts, including an entire apple pie, along with little marzipan candies and several little cakes. Two bottles of wine, one white, one red. As he laid out item after item, Geralt felt unease stir within him. It was too much, he realized, seeing it all together. That had been his goal, after all, to see Jaskier eat as many things as possible, to get a sense, at least, of where his preferences lay. But this was overwhelming. Jaskier would realize something was amiss. A picnic, laid out in perfect detail, in the warm light of the evening, fields spread out beyond them and the forest to their back. It was obviously, sickeningly romantic, he realized. So very obviously beyond what one might do to spend an hour eating dinner with a friend. Panic rose in his throat, choking him, and he grabbed one of the wine bottles, thinking to put it away. If he could put some of it back, maybe it wouldn’t look so much like--

“Geralt?”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, fighting the desire to curse, and turned around. He hoped none of his apprehension showed on his face.

Jaskier was a few feet away, carrying nothing but his lute on his back. He was looking down at the spread with a shocked expression, eyebrows pulled up nearly into his hairline and eyes open wide. “What’s… all this?” he asked, his gaze flickering back up to meet Geralt’s.

“Dinner,” Geralt grunted, putting the wine bottle down. In for a penny, he thought grimly.

He watched several different expressions flicker across Jaskier’s face, too quick to parse. For a moment Geralt thought he looked almost… sad, or maybe anxious, but then he broke into a wide grin. The honest delight pouring off of him made Geralt let out a slight sigh, relief blooming in his chest. “Oh, well isn’t this just wondrous,” Jaskier laughed. He pulled his lute from his shoulder and set it in the grass beside the blanket, and folded himself down amongst Geralt’s offerings. A hand reached up towards him. “Are you going to join me?” Jaskier asked, raising a playful eyebrow. Geralt grumbled, but carefully sat down next to the bard and began dishing out the food.

It was good, all of it, but Geralt hardly paid it any mind, focused entirely on Jaskier’s reactions. The constant flow of conversation was interrupted every time Jaskier took a bite of something new - “This is delicious, have you tried this yet?” and “We must find out what spices they used for this stew, it’s absolutely the best I’ve had in months” and “Geralt, where did you find marzipan? Look at these little things, the details are impressive.” Throughout it all, Geralt watched his face, listened to his words, paid attention to what he returned to and what he didn’t.

And by the end, he was ready to tear his hair out.

Jaskier seemed to enjoy everything. He finished every helping he took, praised every dish, thanked Geralt for each and every selection he’d made. Even with so many choices, it didn’t seem to matter. Jaskier liked them all, but Geralt couldn’t tell what he liked the best. Not the way Jaskier apparently could do for him.

Finally Jaskier flopped back into the grass, one hand on his stomach. “I don’t think I’ve been so full in years,” he groaned, staring up at the sky with heavy eyelids. “Probably since the last banquet I played at. You really outdid yourself, my dear.”

Fuck it. He had to ask. “Anything you liked in particular?”

Jaskier hummed, closing his eyes. “Mm, how could I choose? Everything was so lovely.”

Frustration clawed at him. Before he could stop himself, Geralt heard himself ask, “Do you even have a favorite food?”

Immediately he clamped his mouth shut, jaw clenched hard. He hadn’t meant to ask that. He wasn’t supposed to, he was supposed to--

“Oh, I don’t know if I have a favorite favorite,” Jaskier droned, blinking his eyes open to peer up at the sky again, this time with a thoughtful expression on his face. “There’s just such a range, you know. I suppose when it comes to desserts, there’s these custards that they make in Toussaint, have you had them? Tiny things, very sweet, with saffron and cinnamon. Delicious. We’ll have to get some next we go so far south.”

Geralt was hardly listening, even though he knew that had been the entire point. He’d failed. Jaskier had told him the answer to his question, which meant he was never going to have the chance to prove that he could learn Jaskier as Jaskier had learned him. He couldn’t prove his friendship, his affection, through his actions. Jaskier would never be interested in Geralt the way that Geralt was in him, but he’d hoped he could at least let some of his true feelings bleed into his actions, into the careful way he paid attention. Jaskier had already done so as nothing more than Geralt’s friend. Now he would never be able to pay him back in kind, not truly.

Jaskier turned his head to look at him, brow furrowed curiously. He must have been silent for too long. Geralt quickly schooled his features into neutrality, but some of his distress must have peaked through, because Jaskier frowned at him. Geralt could feel the incoming conversation before Jaskier even opened his mouth. He tried to get ahead of it, talking over the beginning of Jaskier’s soft inquiry. “We should head back,” he grunted, rising abruptly to his feet. “You have to play.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, in a tone that made Geralt’s stomach fill with dread. That was Jaskier’s no nonsense, absolutely-you-will-not-be-getting-out-of-this tone. He turned back towards Jaskier, his shoulders slumping in defeat. The bard had clamoured to his feet when Geralt stood up, and was now stepping around the blanket towards him. Geralt wanted to retreat further, to shove the remains of the picnic back in his bag and hide the evidence, but he knew it wouldn’t save him. He was being too obvious, and Jaskier knew him too well.

The bard eyed him suspiciously, but there was a note of concern in the way his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” Jaskier asked, this time a bit softer. “I thought we were having a lovely time.”

“We… It was. It was nice. I just think it’s time to go.” Jaskier gave him a shrewd look. Not buying it then. Geralt sighed. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s not you.”

“I certainly hope not,” Jaskier chuckled. The sound was thin, like that was exactly what he had been worried about. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks. I wondered if-- Well. But if it’s not about me, it’s something else? Are you trying to butter me up for something? Is there a big scary adventure you’re about to tell me I’m not allowed to come on?” His gaze turned sharp again, but this time there was something like fear underneath it. “Are you leaving me behind?”

“No,” Geralt said quickly, his hands rising in a placating manner. “I’m not leaving you, Jaskier, I swear it. It’s just…” He petered off, unsure how to continue. How to explain.

“It’s just what?” Jaskier demanded. “Why have you been so damnably nice to me lately? Are you dying?” His eyes widened. “Am I dying?”

“No, Jaskier, of course not, just--”

“Then why the gifts?” Jaskier spread his hands around their little picnic, an easy example of exactly what he was talking about.

Geralt’s resistance shattered. “I was trying to figure you out,” he snapped. “I don’t know you, not like you know me. You know everything about me. You pay attention, even when I don’t say anything. You knew I liked dates because I bought jam months ago. You know me better than anyone, but I don’t know you. I don’t know what your favorite food is, or your favorite color, or what you like to wear, or what your favorite kinds of songs are, or your favorite season. I’ve been looking. I tried to figure it out, I tried to bring things I thought you would like and see what you liked best, but it seems like you like everything. You don’t always… say what you mean. I can’t tell when you’re faking and when you’re not.” Geralt was tense, fists clenched at his sides, jaw hard. He knew he looked angry. Jaskier probably thought he was mad at him, for some reason, but all Geralt felt was fear. He wasn’t good enough. Jaskier had to see that now. Geralt had known him for years, and he couldn’t even say whether Jaskier preferred blueberry jam to strawberry. What kind of friend was he?

A hand took his, gently pulling his fingers apart. He jerked his head over to stare as Jaskier stepped forward to slip their fingers together, squeezing softly. When he looked up, Jaskier was regarding him fondly.

“My favorite color is yellow,” he said. “I wear the silk doublets a lot, because they’re in fashion, but I prefer a linen shirt because it’s not as sweaty. I like songs about adventure, but books about romance.” His other hand lifted to brush a bit of hair away from where it was stuck to Geralt’s warm cheek. His expression was difficult to look at, earnest and painfully affectionate. Geralt was trapped by those blue eyes, like falling into a clear sky. “And my favorite season is spring. You could have just asked.”

Geralt swallowed. “You never had to. I just didn’t want you to… I don’t want you to think that I don’t pay attention.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, laughing a little, “I know you’re not always paying attention. I’m talking constantly. There’s a lot to keep up with. I know you tune me out most of the time, it’s fine.”

“I’m still paying attention to you,” Geralt insisted, because it was important, critical that Jaskier know that even when he wasn’t listening, he was still attuned to Jaskier. His presence, his voice, the sound of his heartbeat always in the back of Geralt’s mind. Whenever the bard was around he could scarcely focus on anything else.

“Knowing my favorite color or food or what have you isn’t what proves that you’re my friend,” Jaskier said, still smiling. “You know me. It’s alright.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me if you didn’t like the things I brought you?” Geralt asked, feeling unmoored. “You acted like you loved everything.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, but his chuckle was nervous. The hand he held in Geralt’s was sweaty, and his heartbeat, always in Geralt’s ears, was a bit fast. “Well, they were from you,” he said with a half shrug. “Of course I loved them.”

“But they weren’t--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jaskier interrupted, soft but firm. There was a slight, bitter twist in his lips that Geralt wanted to wipe away. “I just… like to know that you’re thinking of me.”

They were standing so close together. Jaskier’s hand was in his, palm to sweaty palm. They were nearly of a height, but Jaskier was just the tiniest bit shorter, so he had to tilt his chin up ever so slightly to meet Geralt’s eyes. Now it was Jaskier who was tense, his shoulders squared as if to absorb a blow. He nervously dragged his teeth over his lower lip, leaving the hint of an impression in the soft flesh. Geralt watched raptly, swallowing against the urge to soothe the spot with his tongue. “I’m always thinking of you,” he finally said.

Jaskier took a shuddering breath, and Geralt watched as his eyes dropped down to flicker over Geralt’s mouth before they dragged back up to meet his gaze again. “When I saw all of it spread out like that, I thought maybe it meant something,” he said, nearly a whisper.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, helplessly. He lifted the hand not clutched in Jaskier’s toward his neck, tracing his fingers along the delicate line of Jaskier’s throat. Jaskier’s other hand came up to fist in Geralt’s shirt, inhaling sharply at his touch. It was an intoxicating sound, making his head spin more than the bottle of wine they’d consumed between them.

“Did it mean something more?” Jaskier pleaded, his eyes bright. His hand clutched at the fabric over Geralt’s heart, the fingers between his own tightening in a deathgrip. “Did it?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, and leaned forward to kiss him.

Jaskier gasped at the first press of their lips, opening for Geralt easily and without hesitation. He tasted like sweet white wine and meat pie and marzipan, and Geralt greedily mined the flavors from Jaskier’s tongue. He tried to pour all of the things he found himself unable to say into the press of his teeth against Jaskier’s lip, into the flick of his tongue against the roof of his mouth and the way his fingers tangled delicately in Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier gave as good as he got, humming encouragingly into Geralt’s mouth and hauling him closer by the hand in his shirt. He didn’t release Geralt’s hand from where he held it in his own, and Geralt made no move to extract himself.

Finally, Jaskier pulled back, panting against Geralt’s lips as he set their foreheads together. His eyes were closed, and Geralt watched them flicker open, savoring the dazed expression on his face. “I think I’m going to be late to play that show,” Jaskier rasped, and a thrill went through Geralt at the sound. And indeed, the sun had begun to set, dipping over the edge of the mountains in the far, far distance, coloring the air around them in rich purples and reds. Jaskier’s face was soft and ethereal in the glow, and Geralt never wanted to let him go, never wanted to leave this moment.

“Why spring?” Geralt found himself asking.

Jaskier smiled, and his face softened even further. “Because it’s when I get to see you again, of course. You should have known all along; you’re my favorite.”

It was a corny sentiment, and by Jaskier’s grin he knew it, but Geralt couldn’t help the way it warmed him up from the inside out, radiating out from within him and making his lips pull into an answering grin. He leaned in and kissed Jaskier again, and again, and a third time, in quick succession, each more soft and lingering than the last. When he was finished Jaskier had that dazed looking expression back on his face, and Geralt decided it was a good look on him. “Want to know something?” he asked, teasing. Jaskier nodded, the hand on Geralt’s chest snaking up to wrap around his neck, holding the both of them close. Geralt leaned in to press his lips just behind Jaskier’s ear, to press his secret against the soft skin there.

“You’re my favorite too,” he rumbled, and Jaskier laughed, bright and joyful, and both of them knew that it was true.

~

This is my last s&s fic!! So excited to be done with the challenge, and happy that I was able to finish! Thank you to all those who encouraged me over the last two months, your kind words and support mean more than I could say <3

tag list: @llamasdumpsterfire, @theamazingbard

[postalenha]

prologue,

you know love doesn't exist; from the way your favourite celebrity couple would act so love-dovey then break up. to the moment your father walked out of the door when you were five and to the sound of cries your mother releases whenever her new boyfriend leaves her.

nevertheless, you still tried. even going places to meet new people, trying out apps to see if there’s someone out there who can give you the love you need. and you found someone.

that someone is park jisung, well, was. you met him in the review academy you applied to. he was nice, gentle and sweet. just like how you want it to be. though, how-ever nice it might sound to love and to be loved by someone, it can sometimes be suffocating.

and now, you're here at the bar trying to figure out how to forget about your asshole ex boyfriend who cheated on you. you knew that he was a liar when he told you that you're his muse. that whole piece of shit had been sketching different girls from his academy since day one, but you chose to turn a blind eye.

why? perhaps you also hope to find the answer to that question. maybe you don't believe in love. but you just like the idea of being in love. not really in love but in love. like the feeling of someone caring for you, looking after you and such.

because having someone as your so-called significant other has made you feel better and happier in life. but it's probably the right time to stop that delusion. you know damn well there's no amount of love that can solve your real problem.

you sarcastically laugh at yourself sipping the glass of liquor in front of you. who cares if you need to attend university tomorrow? you can’t even care less.

enjoying your time alone, you almost jumped out of your chair when someone touched your shoulder. you looked at the man, wearing a black shirt with a vest on top of it.

you’ve never seen this man so you looked him straight in the eye planning to ask him what he needed but you can’t seem to form a word. getting lost into his dreamy eyes, who seems to hold a thousand words.

“sorry.” he removed his hand on your shoulder saying, “can i sit here?” he asked as he sat on the chair beside yours.

you looked at him, trying to hold a smile, “but you’re already sitting there.” you told him.

he softly laughed and flashed a bright smile, his eyes lit up and smiled in usion. “right.” wetting his lips before speaking again, “so, are you here alone?”

you look around before answering, “i guess so. unless you can see someone i can’t.” he laughed a little before a silence came in. he just looked at you while you stared right back at him.

trying to break the awkwardness you ask him, “how about you?” he sighs before saying, “well, i was about to see someone. but they cancelled.” while he looks at his back, you notice a tattoo on his nape.

“cool, you have a tat?” you commented. trying to start a conversation. “oh you noticed.” he scratched the back of his head, “do you want to see it?”

your eyes widen for his sudden suggestion, “i-is it okay to see it?” widely smiling, he answers “of course.” before turning his back at you.

you stood up and came closer to his back to have a better view, “wow. it’s pretty.” you complimented, still left with your mouth agape. you hear him chuckle, “thanks.”

not knowing what to do next, you sat back down on your chair and took a sip from your glass. seeing how uneasy you were, the guy suggested, “wanna play some arcade?” you took a second before nodding your head.

thinking, there wouldn’t be a problem. after all, he is just a stranger and this is just like one of those nights. the two of you walked into the arcade, the first game that caught your eye was the fishing one.

but after realizing that the game was boring and plain, you went into the punch machine, “do you want any of those?” the man asked you, pointing at one of the prizes.

“i mean, i would love the little bear.” you answered, pointing at the bear you wanted. “okay, the little bear it is.” he put the tokens into the machine and started to give it a powerful punch.

“oh!” you exclaimed as the numbers exceeded eight hundred. “ah!!” you jumped out of joy when the score turned out to be nine hundred forty. he got you the bear that you wanted and you hugged him out of reflex.

when you realized what you just did, you quickly break free from the hug, trying to fix your clothes. “sorry, i got a little excited.” you apologized.

he shakes his head no saying, “it’s okay. i liked it if i’m one to be honest.” you didn’t really hear what he said after but you just shrugged him off, dragging him into the next arcade you see.

the night didn’t feel long as it is because you enjoyed it. you never expected to spend this whole night with a stranger but it turned out better than expected. you both enjoyed the games, dancing in the just dance machine and even played sniper.

after using all of your energy in the arcade, you’re now standing in a quiet alleyway a little far from people. “that was fun.” you said, trying to catch your breath.

you rummage through your handbag and look for your handkerchief. hidden from your knowledge, you have dropped your university i.d. to the ground. luckily, the guy sees it and picks it up right after he hands you a bottle of water.

after thanking him, you began drinking and after, you threw the bottle into the bin. while you’re walking your way back to him, he quickly picks up your i.d. the normal thing a person would do was to give it back

but he didn’t. instead, he kept it in his pocket and acted like nothing happened. once you’re in front of him, he holds your wrist.

you were taken aback by his sudden action but you see him draw a butterfly in it. so you decided to tell him, “you really like butterflies, huh.” he blew soft air into the drawing to make sure it dries.

“i do, yes.” he answers. “i actually raise some.” he added, shocked as you were, “really?!” he nods his head, yes.

“do you wanna go see my butterflies?” he asked. and that single sentence was enough to turn your stomach up-side-down. not really sure what to say, you just looked at him in the eye.

a second or two passes before he slowly leans in for a kiss, you close your eyes and try to back away when someone suddenly says, “can i borrow a cigar?” you see a girl from behind.

the man slowly fixes his posture and searches through his pocket. only to see a box of cigarette with only one stick left. he looked at you first like he’s asking for your permission but you decided to excuse yourself, “i’ll need to go to the powder room.” you awkwardly smiled at him.

as you make your way to the bathroom, the man gives the girl his last piece of cigar. the woman tried to flirt with him so he reciprocated the action. and he flirts back with the girl.

walking back, you see him smile at the girl. you knew this was wrong, but seeing him flash it to others made you realize how dumb it was to even think this was a start for something.

you throw the teddy he won for you in the garbage and walk away, not saying anything. hoping to never cross paths again with the guy who gave you butterflies the second you met each other's eyes.

PROFILES 3, MASTERLIST, NEXT,

TAGLIST, open @txtyukikabot @neptuniees @ddeonuism @witheeseung @sunghoonify @one800127 @jaemimpulsive @rikibae @ncityy04 @ryu-naa @curryramyeon @hyuckworld @enhacolor @xoxojayd3n @mishtidoie @jungw8ns @n1k1tty

© 082321, postalenha. All Rights Reserved.

[arvinsescape]

Free

A/N: I finally got my new laptop and was able to write again so I wrote an idea that’s been in my head for a while, it’s loosely inspired by Luther, a series that I’ve re watched recently, I hope you all enjoy.

Summary: Tom just knows you had something to do with your husbands murder. His problem? He can’t prove it.

Warnings: Swearing. Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up, condoms are a barrier from many things), oral (Fem receiving), mentions of murder, talks of an abusive relationship. (Minors do not engage). I think that’s all.

This is purely a work of fiction. I accept constructive criticism. 

W/C: 3.6K

You were driving Tom insane, he knew, in his gut, he was so sure that you had something to do with your husband’s disappearance. The case had landed itself on his desk when missing persons had deemed it a murder case, even without a body. Could he find the hard evidence that linked you to the murder? No. Was he sure it was you? A thousand per cent. Your case had been dropped months ago but he couldn’t get it or you out of his head.

“Tell me what happened?” Tom asked as he sat opposite you for the first time.

“I’ve already answered all of these questions.” You replied, Tom could tell you were nervous, you had a hard expression, but he saw straight through it.

“I don’t believe some of the answers that you gave.” He said as interlocked his hands on the desk, leaning slightly closer to you.

“I’m not really bothered what you believe, it’s what happened.” You fired back.

“People don’t just disappear.”

“Sure, they do. That’s what missing person’s is for, right?” You said as you cocked an eyebrow at him and he almost smiled, slightly enamored by the way you were handling his questioning. He’d gained a reputation for getting people to crack, but you? You seemed unfazed by his line of questioning.

Ultimately Tom had had to let you go because he couldn’t find the evidence, he needed to convict you. It drove him mad, it had him stumped for months just trying to figure out how you’d done it. How you’d evaded his thorough analysis of your property and workplace. You were smart, that was glaringly obvious to him, every time he thought he’d found something, he came up short.

A week ago, he’d found himself with a similar case on his desk, only this time the body was found. Again, there wasn’t much evidence but there were so many similarities between your case and this one. He found himself up for hours cross referencing your case file and this one, although the woman they suspected this time wasn’t as intelligent as you were, she’d lied about her alibi. Unlike you she’d said she was with a friend who denied it. You on the other hand had said you were at home all day and he couldn’t confirm that as truth and so this evidence became inadmissible in court.

He’d found himself on your doorstep, almost wanting to beg for your help, it was strange, he’d never felt like he needed anyone else’s help before yet here he was outside your door.

“Detective Holland. A man I thought I’d never seen again.” You said once you opened your door. He couldn’t help but note how beautiful you looked, he shook the thought away as he showed his badge and entered your home.

“Mrs. Leigh, I need your help.” He said in a matter-of-fact manner, he noted the small smile that had appeared on your lips and fought his own back, yours was so contagious.

“It’s Miss L/N now.” You politely corrected him.

“My apologies.”

“What could you possibly need my help with?”

“A case I’m trying to solve.”

“Forgive me but I’m not sure how I could be of help to you.” You said with furrowed brows.

“I think you could.”

He talked you through the case and his theories, all the holes in stories and suspicious behavior and you just drank it all in, nodding in certain places but ultimately you kept quiet. It wasn’t until e was done that you spoke.

“I mean, and this is all hypothetical, you’d hide the weapon in plain sight.” You answered as you made your way over to your fridge.

“That would be stupid though.” Tom said confidently, there was no way he’d missed something that was in plain sight. He watched as you pulled the bottle of wine from the fridge with a sigh. What had urged you to help him was beyond you, but a part of you knew that your case still haunted him, and you somehow felt guilty for it.

“People like you will always overlook stupid.” You said with a confidence he couldn’t quite place.

“So, you’re saying if someone wanted to hide evidence, they’d do it in plain sight because we’d overlook it?” Tom was bewildered, there was no way that this could be true, he’d spent hours going over the case files, there’s no way he missed such major evidence such as the murder weapon. He watched as you nodded mindlessly before digging through the drawer for a bottle opener.

“The autopsy report indicates a stab wound to the neck.” He continued. “They bled out. I’ve searched that house and I couldn’t find a single knife small enough to fit that wound.” He spoke. He knew the evidence for this case was in the house, the timing of everything would not have given the perpetrator any time to hide evidence away from the house.

He watched as you took the cork out of the bottle, once you’d removed the cork you placed the bottle opener on the counter, the tiny blade used for taking the paper lining off the bottle top was shining at him, almost mocking him.

“I could think of a few.” You hummed as you filled a wine glass. Tom was filled with excitement as he realized you were right, the small knife was easily concealed within the opener, he had overlooked it, not thought for a second that such a small knife was in the most basic household item.

“All I need to do is tie the murder weapon to her and case closed.” He beamed and you smiled, genuinely smiled for the first time since Tom had met you and he couldn’t help but return it, he really was enamored with you.

“Case closed.” You smiled as you sipped from your wine glass.

You had started to infect the young detective’s thoughts in a different way. He used to obsess over how you’d done it and now he was more obsessed as to why. He couldn’t understand how a woman like you, who was so quiet, kind and charismatic could have harmed another person. He started to wonder if he was wrong, if you’d had anything to do with it at all but his gut told him you did.

All the evidence for his current case came together and the victim’s wife had gone to prison for his murder, pleading guilty. She’d killed him because she wanted his money. He thought back to your case, your husband had had a lot of money, but he couldn’t see that being your motive, he couldn’t think of anything that would motivate you to murder someone. Over the time it took him to gather the evidence, he’d sought out your help more than once and he’d become enchanted by you, he found you intriguing, he wanted to get to know you better.

He wondered if that was what had brought him to your doorstep yet again. He should have been out celebrating the win, but he found himself outside your door. He knocked and wondered if you’d answer, it was late, he noted but he found himself hoping you’d open your door for him. When he heard the lock click his heart raced with excitement, he hoped you’d have that lovely smile on your face that you always had.

“Detective.” You smiled and he laughed.

“Tom.” He corrected and you smiled wider at him.

“What brings you to my doorstep Tom?”

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“I’m not sure I’d have found that evidence had it not been for our chat, so thank you.”

“Well, you’re welcome. Did you want to come in? I’ve just opened a bottle of red.” You asked with that oh so contagious smile.

“How could I refuse?” He said as he made his way passed you and into the living room that he’d become so familiar with.

A bottle of red wine shared between the two later had them both feeling slightly tipsy. Tom knew he should probably make a move, but he didn’t want to, not unless you wanted him to. He found he very much enjoyed your company and wanted to stay in it as long as possible.

“Thank you for helping me finish the wine.” You smiled.

“Favor returned?” He smirked and you laughed.

“Sure. I suppose I won’t see you now.” You thought aloud.

“I suppose not.” He said, you’d moved closer to each other now, faces inches apart. “Unless you want to help me solve more cases.” He continued.

“I don’t think you’ll need my help again.” You said quietly, eyes flicking from each other’s eyes to each other’s lips.

“You never know.” He answered as quietly as you had. Tom licked his lips in anticipation, he probably shouldn’t be entertaining the idea of kissing you, but he couldn’t help it. You hummed in response as your noses brushed one an other’s. He couldn’t stop himself as he closed the small distance between you.

Your lips met in a desperate kiss, his hands finding your hair as you fisted his shirt in a desperate attempt to pull him closer to you. His mind felt blank as he became completely consumed by thoughts of you and what he wanted to do to you. He’d found you attractive the second he’d brought you in for questioning all those months ago but the more he’d gotten to know you the more he found you attractive. The rational part of his brain that was telling him this might be dangerous shut off as bit your bottom lip and you moaned slightly.

Your lips disconnected as you both needed air, both as breathless as each other. You looked at him and the look in your eyes drove him wild, your beautiful eyes were looking back at him completely list blown. He reconnected your lips as you straddled him, his hands finding your waist, lifting your shirt slightly to feel your skin.

“Bedroom?” He asked through a breath as your lips briefly disconnected.

“Upstairs, third door on the right.” You said quickly before reconnecting your lips, the kiss was hot and heavy as Tom stood, carrying you effortlessly to your bedroom, not breaking the kiss for a second. As soon as he found himself in your room, you both fell onto the bed, Tom’s back hitting the mattress. He almost moaned as you rocked your hips into his, the friction causing him to stiffen even more than he thought possible.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He said as he sat up, his lips connecting with your neck. You rolled your head back to give him more access and he took the opportunity to trail kisses down your throat, listening to the small gasps you were exhaling. He was more aroused than he’d ever been in his life, he felt completely drunk off you.

“Tom, I really want you to fuck me.” You spoke and Tom groaned at the filthy words that left your mouth, he wasn’t expecting it.

“Wanna taste you first.” He spoke as he flipped you both over, your back easily hitting the mattress as your lips reconnected. He trailed kisses down your neck as his hands went to the hem of your shirt, pulling it from you effortlessly. He unclipped your bra and threw both your shirt and bra onto the floor. Kissing down your chest as he took a nipple into his mouth, slightly grazing it with his teeth before licking and sucking at it.

Your moans grew louder, and Tom found himself entranced by the sounds you were making, he doesn’t recall ever being with anyone who sounded as pretty as you did. He continued his attention on your nipples, switching from one to the other.

“Tom, please.” You begged and he smirked against your skin.

“What?” He asked as he made eye contact with you, his fingers moving to roll your nipple.

“I need you to move lower.” You moaned.

“Whatever you want baby.” He spoke as he placed a final kiss to your breast before moving down your body.  

He quickly removed your shorts and groaned when he realized you didn’t have underwear on. He looked at your glistening heat and almost moaned at how wet you were for him.

“So wet, look at this.” He said as he ran a finger through your folds. “I’ve barely touched you and your soaked.” He smirked as you rolled your head back into the pillow.

“Please.” You begged as he let out a breath over your heat, watched as you jolted slightly from the sensation. “Tom.” You moaned as he ran his tongue through your heat.

“You taste fucking amazing.” He said before practically diving in, sucking your clit as he listened to your moans. He continued to lick and suck at your clit as he heard your moans grow louder, you must have been close he thought to himself as he sucked your clit and listened to the high-pitched moan you released.

He felt as your hand moved to his hair, almost keeping him still as he continued to lick and suck at your clit, your hips bucking up to meet his movements and e found it so incredibly hot, the way you’d started to use his face to almost get yourself off was driving him wild.

You let out a moan of his name as your orgasm crashed through you, Tom felt your legs shake and helped you through your intense orgasm, feeling proud of himself for not disappointing you. Once you’d come down from your high, he pulled away, moving back up your body, your legs continuing to shake through your aftershocks.

“So perfect.” He mumbled as he gave you a quick kiss, taking in the blissful expression on your face. “Did so well for me. Fucking hot.” He said again as you removed his shirt, placing a kiss onto his chest. You continued pressing kisses to his chest as he fumbled with his belt, almost getting frustrated as it got caught.

“Here.” you said as your hands took over, taking his belt into your own hands, undoing it almost like it was second nature to you. He found it all the more of a turn on. You made short work of his pants; they found their place with the rest of the clothes on the floor of your bedroom.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked.

“Yes. I want you to fuck me Tom.”

It was all the confirmation he needed as he slipped into you, both of you moaning at the contact. Fuck, you felt good, almost perfect for him. You were both a moaning mess as he thrusted into you over and over again. His hand gripping your thigh to hoist it higher around his waist. You almost screamed as he found your g spot from his new angle, your nails clawing at his back which only made him thrust into you harder.

“Fuck, that feels good, you feel so fucking amazing.” He said as he felt you clench around him. He shifted your leg higher to get an even better angle on your g spot as he continuously pounded into you, listening to your moans of his name. he felt his own orgasm approach as you tightened around him, he knew you were close, and he watched in awe as you reached your own hand to your clit and started to rub it.

“That’s it baby.” He said and after a few more thrusts he felt you come around him which brought on his own orgasm, he removed himself from your tight heat and released his load all over your stomach with a moan of your name.

It took you both a good few minutes to recover, he was collapsed on top of you as you ran your fingers through his hair. He kissed your shoulder every few minutes and found himself more happy and content than he’d been in a long time. He removed himself from the top of you and went into the bathroom to find a warm cloth to wash the two of you off.

Once you were both cleaned up he laid in your bed with your head on hi chest as you slept soundly, and he ran his hands through your hair. He was deep in thought as he thought about your case and what had happened and now he was dying to know what had driven you to commit such an act. He was so sure in his gut you’d done it but having you here in the state you were he wondered how you could harm an insect, let alone another person.

“I wish you’d tell me what happened. Just be honest, everything’s different now. I’d want you to confide in me as your partner not see me as a detective who’s looking to lock you away. Fuck Princess, I think I’d move the Earth if you asked me to.” He whispered and he meant it, he didn’t want this time with you to end, he was so infatuated with you by this point. He fell asleep after a while, thoughts of you completely on his mind.

**

“I need to know how you did it.” He spoke after a while of you both being awake, you were spooning now as his hand rubbed your bare skin, he pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“You’ve read the file.” You spoke.

“That says you didn’t do it, but I know you did Princess.”

“My case is closed, why don’t you leave it at that?”

“I can’t. I’m obsessing over it.”

“I’ve already told you.” You said after a while and Tom furrowed his brows as he turned you onto your back so he could look at you.

“No. You haven’t.” He spoke carefully, maybe he’d missed something, a confession maybe.

“For a Detective Inspector, you can be pretty stupid.” You laughed and he thought on your words for a second. Thought about how much help you’d been and what you’d said, of course you knew how this woman had done it, it was how you’d done it. The only difference was that you’d managed to dispose of the body.

“So, you did do it?” He said quietly, a small part of him was proud he was right, his gut was never wrong, but the bigger part of him wondered why.

“You just need to prove it.” You said as a tear made its way down your cheek. Of all the things Tom expected, this wasn’t one of them, he wasn’t expecting you to cry.

“Hey,” he said as he swiped the tear away with his thumb. “Tell me what happened.” He urged in the most comforting manner he could, he needed you to know you could trust him with this.

“Have you ever felt trapped? That’s how he made me feel, like I had no way out. I tried to leave him so many times, but he wouldn’t let me, he had me by the throat and it felt like he was squeezing the life out of me.” You said through your tears and Tom’s heart dropped, this wasn’t a usual case where the wife murders the husband for a payout. “He wasn’t the nice rich guy everyone thought he was, he hit me, took all his anger out on me but I could never prove it, if I had bruises I wasn’t allowed to leave the house until they weren’t visible, which wasn’t often. I snapped.” You spoke and he pulled you into a hug.

“Y/N…” He said and you interrupted him.

“But it never matters to people like you. You don’t give leeway for the small amount of people who had no other choice. That’s why I never came clean, never admitted to what I’d done, I didn’t want him to trap me any more than he had, I didn’t want to go to prison because of him.” You said as you finally let the tears out that you’d kept in for so many months.

You hadn’t intended to kill him; it was an accident. You cried for ten minutes as Tom held you, placing comforting kisses to your temple. Something about finally telling the truth was freeing, you knew he could and would probably arrest you for this, but it felt good to finally tell someone the truth that was eating away at you.

“I’m not going to do anything.” Tom spoke after a while.

“What?” You asked through sniffles as your tears ceased.

“I understand now. You’ve been punished enough. Your secret is safe with me.” He said sincerely and you believed him, but you didn’t want to drag him down with you.

“You could lose your job, go to prison if anyone found out.” You said and he kissed your cheek.

“They won’t, your case has become a cold one. There’s still no body, I doubt they’ll reopen the case.” He said through a small smile. He didn’t want to ask what you’d done with the body, he assumed you were clever enough to make sure it was never found and if it was he would make sure none of the evidence led to you, he would make sure that all the evidence ran dry, he felt like he would do anything for you.

“So, I’m free?” You spoke, hope lacing every word.

“You’re free baby.”

[meruz]

i was gonna draw tonight but i dropped my tablet pen and the barrel of the pen broke off and flew somewhere underneath (??) my bed (?) and now i cant find it so I’m just gonna answer asks before bed instead. just some art asks and more mentions of infinity train LOL

What program and brushes do you use when making your art?

@ravki hi! part of this is in my FAQ but i’ll say it again anyways LOL: I use photoshop CC and have used photoshop for pretty much....my whole art career. I’ve dabbled in clip and paint tool sai in the past but photoshop is my true wife, we eloped away from her awful father adobe many years ago and are very happy together. 

as for brushes... I should prob put this info in my FAQ too lol,... my default brush set is actually free to download here! Tho I will say I also use steve ahn’s storyboarding brush sometimes and lately i’ve been using shiyoon kim’s brushes A TON. Shiyoon’s cost a couple bucks but they’re super worth it imo

How do you choose colors?

This is kind of a difficult one to describe from scratch but hmm.... I’ll put it this way. Generally when I go into coloring or painting something I already have some colors in mind. Like for a certain piece I know I want a bright green, or a magenta, or a dark blue in certain areas. A lot of the time I know a mood I want. So I’ll start with that core color tone and build around it. I’ll use an example from a recent piece

So you can see here that the first color I accessed was that bright cyan. So I start with that bright cyan and then bring in its “friends” in the form of analogous colors (shown below on the far left)

greens greys etc. THEN I know I want the characters to stand out against all the blue so I start laying down warm contrasting colors for them (middle group). the mat under them is orange, skin tones are warm, ryans flannel is red etc. then to get them to work together I work more cool colors into the shadows and slightly warmer (not too warm because its a cool img overall so in this case, greener LOL) colors into highlights. 

hope that makes sense? for me choosing colors is a lot about story and composition. If you know what you want to say, the mood you want to create, where you want to go, the path to get there becomes a lot clearer imo.

Have you ever considered making an art book?

I have! But I don’t think I currently have enough...original illustrations for one LOL? Not that an art book has to be all original work but if I were putting fanart in an art book...at that point I’d just make a fanzine. I’m making more original work lately though so maybe this year....? Who knows. For now, I do have a sketchbook up on gumroad. Hoping to do one of those next year too.

Any tips for keeping background drawings from getting super stiff, especially since things like interiors have a lot of straight lines?

This is a really interesting ask. Really great question that I don’t think gets asked enough - forgive me if I get a bit art school here but I drew up some examples.

First I think we have to investigate the assumption that straight lines make things stiff. That seems true on an instinctual level and certainly proves to be true very often But I don’t think its actually the straight lines themselves but the sort of arrangements and compositions they tend to dictate. Take this for instance.

pretty big difference, right? there’s a couple things that make a composition feel stiff and one of the most significant is lines that are perpendicular and parallel to the frame. it feels locked in and solid, like bricks. but the moment you shift these angles even a little the composition instantly becomes more dynamic because our innate senses of weight, gravity, and directionality can sense movement.

But it’s not just diagonals let’s take this one step further

when lines meet and terminate together those tangents can flatten and lock space so the best way to solve this is with overlap and complete intersection, forms continuing past or behind each other feel more layered and less like a flat mosaic... again, even in the simplest line drawings. So how do we apply this to a background?

ok I drew this really fast so its potentially not the best example but I think the idea is there. This space isn’t even particularly deep, it’s basically a room, a doorway, and a hallway behind it, and we’re not seeing that much of any of those things LOL. but when you draw an environmental object like a doorway in a way that lines up with the perpendicular and parallel lines of the canvas you’re automatically flattening it and making it look rigid.

and when you create tangents with objects and characters you flatten the space around them and make it difficult to tell what is actually in front or behind or if they’re on the same plane.

GOD I HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE. Anyways. avoid those things and you’ll instantly have less stiff bgs no matter what kind of bg you’re depicting.

I wanna mention however that this isn’t to say a stiff bg with flat space doesn’t have its purposes.

sometimes you want to create parallels and tangents. it can make characters feel closed in, trapped, regimented, part of a routine, etc. it’s also great for making a composition look ornamental (especially combined with symmetry).

directors like wes anderson can even use these compositional elements to make images feel uncanny or harrowing! its very versatile. I think the important thing is to just be aware of when you are making something rigid and when that’s the last thing you want to do. conscious choices.

Can you speak Tagalog?

@lemuelzero101​ I can! BUT NOT VERY WELL LOL ;;; both my parents are from Visayas! but they met and had me in the states lol so I’m pretty American born and raised. We go back to visit family on occasion but not regularly. My tagalog is mostly absorbed from listening to relatives at parties lol and my parents speak bisaya at home so I’m marginally better at that. Sorry to any filipinos out there hoping I’d be better educated, I’m like a little baby...

I do love meeting and talking to other filipinos online though, I grew up in an area that was relatively diverse but the asian population was small and the filipino population basically non-existent. I was like one of maybe 2 filipino kids in my highschool of 2000.

Apart from infinity train what shows are you watching now? Have you seen jujitsu kaisen?

Man this is gonna sound so boring but I haven’t watched a lot of tv lately.  It’s not really part of my daily routine. Let’s see... I was sort of watching Amphibia, Craig of the Creek, and the new Digimon Adventure 2020 but I keep falling off watching those for one reason or another. Also there’s a lot of episodes, it doesn’t feel like something I can just binge and be done with.

The last thing I binged was Succession. I want that show and Euphoria back so bad, when I’m done forcing all my friends to watch Infinity Train im cancelling my HBO subscription until Succession and Euphoria return so they know exactly what I’m on their list for LOL. 

I have not watched jujitsu kaisen but I’ve kept up with some of the sakuga news (I keep up with anime industry news and production info like x5 the amt i keep up with actual anime) for it and their compositing/editing looks dope. I’ve read the manga actually LOL or at least part of the beginning. I wasn’t super keen on the whole finger eating thing. Also to be honest I kinda feel like its the new Bleach and I never particularly cared about Bleach. Characters look nice enough tho. I wholeheartedly support jjk fans.

Thank you! Thank you @keznodzieja​! <3

And thank you anons who don’t watch infinity train LOL...it’s always nice to hear when people enjoy my fanart despite not knowing the source material because it lifts a little bit of the “oh god am I being annoying???” fear off my chest. But also I think you should watch infinity train because it’s really good I have no reservations recommending it.

[butterysalt]

Fun | Sherlock x platonic!Reader

Pairing: Sherlock x platonic!gender neutral reader

Request ( @a-paper-cut​ ): 

Word Count: 2,202

Contains: Mentions of child abduction, platonic fluffiness and banter :)

A/N: AAAAAAA thank you so much, lovely! This was my first request and I was SUPER excited to write it hehe. I’ve been on a slight creative block lately and I enjoyed writing this so much. I hope this fic does justice for what you wanted and I hope that you are doing amazingly 🧡🧡

It was an early, snowy winter morning in London. You and Sherlock Holmes have been mind-boggled by a puzzling case for the past week. The detective proposed that the two of you go on a walk to allow some fresh air in the brains again. This suggested that even his extensive mind palace and composing weren’t helping the genius. Not that you were complaining about sharing a nice stroll with Sherlock. It had been years after all since you two had spent any casual time together. Like what people normally did in their free time, anyway.

The two of you stepped side by side, feet planting in the thin sheet of snow on the ground in unison. You grinned a little at the matched body language. You and Sherlock always had special ways to subtly communicate with one another. It was like a part of your minds were connected.

“Anything yet?” the tall brunette questioned. Your lip twitched upward. “Don’t rush the process, Sherlock. Just enjoy the moment. Live in it a little.” Sherlock’s long drawl could be heard next to you. His walking strides were growing longer as his patience began to thin out. You could practically hear the subtle gnawing of his teeth.

“We’ve only been walking 5 minutes,” you flouted, “Loosen up a bit.” Sherlock snickered to himself, messing with his gloved hands. “You’re already trying to read me?”

“You’re walking like you’ve got a stick up your arse. It’s clear you’re agitated,” you jested. The curly-haired detective sneered at you and kicked a clump of ice out of the way. “I can’t think, Y/n. We have potential homicide to solve and we’re here drudging in the snow.”

“Remember, this was your idea, genius. Unless you can come up with something else, this is all we’ve got.” Sherlock went silent, chewing the inside of his cheek. His mind wandered to try and come up with something snarky to throw at you. Perhaps a witty comeback that would leave you in doubt. The headache he was dealing with was enough to strike him in his train of thought. He shook it off and his focus returned to the matter of urgency. Unsolved case.

Sherlock lifted his face to the sky, blowing a hot cloud of breath into the chilly London air. He tugged his scarf a little closer to his neck, shoving his gloved hands down into his thick coat. The breath cloud was a common habit of Sherlock’s during cold weather. It mimicked the effect of blowing cigarette smoke, just without the tar and nicotine. Fortunately, the only time the detective abused drugs anymore was when cases had him horribly stumped; thanks to you and John’s efforts, his drug use was much more controlled now.

“Five missing children. All between the ages of 7 and 9. We know that the connection is tied to their private schools. Three different religious private schools within a 10 kilometer radius — so, fairly close together. The parents reported their children coming home with expensive gifts from a mysterious donor shortly before they went missing. They referred to the perpetrator as ‘Ray’. Anyone handing out shiny trinkets to naive children is either a philanthropist or a predator. I’d like to bet on the latter.”

You sighed, mentally reviewing all of the evidence from the case in your head. “But all of the children knew basic safety protocols: don’t talk to strangers, never accept anything from strangers, the whole package. Their parents are terribly traditional. They never would have let any of them see the light if they broke any of those rules. So the chances are near impossible that they would have fallen for such typical child abduction tricks.”

“Near impossible, L/n. That means there’s still a possibility and possible is all we need to screw this up,” Sherlock tutted. He blew another large cloud of air, shaking some light snow off his curls. You frowned, “The suspects. We’ve interrogated the popes, teachers, parents… who are we missing?”

Sherlock stopped walking. You turned to check up on him, finding him with his eyes shut. “Maybe we’re asking the wrong questions…”

“Of course we’re asking the wrong questions! We have all the pieces in our hands but no instructions, Sherlock. We’re running in circles with this case,” you walked over to a public railing, leaning against it and looking out across the long white blanket that stretched to the horizon.

He joined your side shortly after, bending down to pick up some rocks to toss down the snowy hill and watch as they made skinny trails in the frosty powder. Sherlock sighed out, exasperated and worn out. “We’re not getting anywhere by mulling over it, are we?”

You smiled at him and shook your head. You pulled your coat a little tighter around yourself. “That’s why I’m here to keep you in check. It’s good to get some air, you know? Christ knows when’s the last time you did that simply because you wanted to.”

Sherlock’s eyebrow perked up and he faced you with a blank expression. “How do you mean?” Your eyes widened a little, unsure of how you should pick out your next words. “Well… you know, you don’t exactly, uh…” Nervously, your eyes flicked up to his. He was watching your expression very carefully.

“You don’t spend a lot of time for yourself,” you said simply. Sherlock frowned in disagreement. “I spend a lot of time by myself. I thought you knew me better than that,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, leaning your back against the cold railing now, crossing your arms. “In your mind palace, Sherlock. I mean you don’t do things you enjoy.”

“Who said I don’t enjoy things?” he countered your query. You found yourself forming a cold sweat, debating on how to deliver your message. “Hobbies?”

“Violin.”

“Meh. Parties?”

“You disturb me.” Your best friend’s disgust made you cackle. “See, that’s my point! You don’t know how to have fun anymore. What happened to old Sherlock?”

Now this was a personal offense against Sherlock. “What? You don’t think I’m fun?” Sherlock sounded incredibly appalled by your claim. A hot cloud of air rose to the sky when you scoffed.

“Holmes, you are probably the farthest thing when it comes to the definition of fun!”

“Well, probability-wise, that’s highly improbable when Mycroft exists.”

“His poshness makes up for it. You’re just irritating.” Sherlock puffed out his red cheeks, nudging you playfully. “Oh, come on. You must admit that I’m at least an interesting character?”

You pondered in fake thought, scrunching your face together. “Interesting is debatable. Fun? That’s foreign territory, Sherlock.” The tall man grimaced deeply at your bluntness that he clearly had issues with. “What do you mean by ‘Old Sherlock’? What was good about the ‘old me’? I consider myself much more refined in the present day.”

Old memories of the two of you hanging out with one another as teenagers came back to you. A smile melted on your face from the warm feelings of nostalgia, the chilliness from the snowfall leaving your body.

“You used to prank Mycroft all the time. Everything was always a competition with you and me; we would go from racing down the neighborhood to reach my house first or rush to finish homework and claim the telly before the other could. Oh! We would always make up fake cases, too, trying to entertain a mystery that didn’t even exist,” you laughed to yourself, “Look at us now.”

Sherlock grumbled at the reminder of your old shenanigans. He wasn’t always the fondest of his younger self. But he had to admit he was reckless, even as a child. It was a simpler time and kids didn’t have much to fret or fear.

“Now you’re all enigmatic and stoic with your flipped up coat collar and scary cheekbones. The difference is so disappointing, it’s sickening,” you gagged. Sherlock slipped off his glove and jabbed his freezing hand against your neck, making you exclaim at the coldness and shove him backward. He wore a victorious smirk at your suffering. You pointed a hard finger at him, holding back your own laughter to prove a point.

“NO, that’s not being fun, Sherlock. That’s torture- sadism! You’re just an arse!” He threw his arms in the air, tossing his glove in your face. “It’s subjective! I can be fun,” he insisted.

“You’re predictable, Holmes. You don’t remember what good humor is and it shows in your actions. You pick everything up from books and telly. You can’t surprise me anymore,” you declared. Sherlock’s expression contorted into shock as he stared at you in disbelief. You had left the great Sherlock Holmes baffled. The silence was deafening — music to your ears.

When you thought you were winning this argument, a special glint quickly shone in Sherlock’s eyes. Your expression dropped and then you were pushed backward. There was no railing behind you anymore to catch you.

As you were falling, you naturally grasped for something to hold on to. In this case, Sherlock’s coat. The evil smirk on his face was immediately replaced with shock then fear as he was crashing hard into you. Gravity did the rest of the work. With the momentum you had already begun, dragging Sherlock down with you was one of the worst possible outcomes of the situation. A crude curse slipped past his lips and both of you latched onto each other because there was nothing else to brace with.

What was initially meant to be a playful fall down the snowy hill turned into a rolling battle full of frantic thrashing and screaming as both of your bodies thumped and tangled with each other. The two of you occasionally bounced a few inches off the ground and crashed back into the ground, knocking the breath out of both of you. The wild human avalanche down the hill was finally put to a stop when you rolled into a tree. With a loud OOMPH, you and Sherlock flopped into the ground, groaning and croaking in pain. Neither of you moved for the first passing moments, unable to process what just happened.

Your fall was broken when you landed on top of Sherlock, his body sprawled out in the cold snow, rasping heavily. Some snow fell off your form and your arms shook as you propped yourself up, no longer caring about the fact that you applied all the pressure in your friend’s ribs.

“You alright, mate?” you panted, checking up on Sherlock, eyes analyzing him for any serious injuries.

“You take my breath away.” You sputtered and shook your head at his ridiculous humor. “Aren’t you just romantic?” He squinted his eyes and flashed a sarcastic smile but groaned out, “No, really. Please get off my chest.”

“Oh God, sorry,” you scrambled off of him and he rolled over into the snow, gasping for air as he clutched his side in pain. You punched him in the shoulder. “You bloody twat, Sherlock Holmes! Pushing me down a hill by Jove’s sake!”

“I remember it being much more fun when we were younger,” he grunted out, pushing himself onto his forearms. And just then, his eyes burst wide open. His face slack-jawed as his brain computed at top speed. He was onto something.

“Sherlo-”

“FUN, Y/n,” he articulated, scrambling over to you and grabbing you by the shoulders. You stiffened and backed away, startled by his abrupt realization. 

“Oh, Y/n, you are brilliant! This is why we work together!”

“What?! What are you-”

“The kids were abducted because they were having fun! ‘Ray’ is Remus Stooge, another private school kid in the area. The Stooge family owns several of the land plots around this corner of London and they’re the ones funding all three schools — The Stooge’s are plenty wealthy. The children were going to Remus’s home, ditching class time to get a personal house tour of his daddy’s money. The fancy car rides, luxurious delights, shiny sneakers and tailored clothing… Who wouldn’t pass up on an opportunity like that? It only makes sense why they were lured in so easily! Their rich best pal Remus has been the one inviting them right into the trap!”

“What- Sherlock! Where is this all coming from?! How do you even-”

“Trust me, Y/n!! I have it figured out- It all makes sense!” he interjected again. The look on your faces was bizarre. You tossed a handful of snow at him as he blocked it with his hands. “NO?? It doesn’t! This is so sudden-”

Sherlock was on his feet in an instant, brushing off the powder from his coat and yanking you up. His eyes were gleaming with excitement. “We have to go tell Lestrade, now! Call John and get over to the Stooge’s place!”

“To arrest the kid?!”

“No, the butler!” He grabbed your gloved hand and dragged you up the steep white hill. You shook your head wildly, “Holmes, you better have a bloody good explanation for this in the cab or there will be hell to pay.” Sherlock smirked triumphantly and squeezed your hand.

“Come, L/n! The game is on!”

Requests are open! <3