#i think he should get a new glass eye after he breaks his contract with mizora

[aureoboros]

wyll in a flowy shirt: the sequel

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Day 25 “I should have listened to you.”           

| Guilt | Backseat | Failure |

Back to Caged founder and another day for @juneofdoom,

Finn! 

Finally Elijah gets a reunion with one of his siblings. Sadly I'm cruel and it goes terribly

Takes place after TVD Season 3 ep 13

This turned out a lot longer than planned. Turns out after centuries apart they had much to talk about. apologizes for spelling mistakes if there are more than normal struggling to keep eye open as I post this

—--

Mother wanted them all back to be a family, yet Elijah hadn't returned even when Klaus had been convinced to call by mother.

Elijah hadn't answered, instead a secretary of some kind had apologised and told him Mr Mikaelson was too busy. That had sent Klaus off into a tantrum, one Finn was far too used to stuck listening to from within the coffin, now however he had the freedom to escape it.

However mother had pulled him aside and asked him to retrieve Elijah himself, if not, then enough blood they could use to link him as well, since it was clear that over the last century Klaus had managed to push Elijah's impressive patience for his younger siblings to breaking point.

Finn had been ignoring the pit in his stomach that something wasn't right, even if Elijah was angry at Klaus he wouldn't have left Kol and Rebekah, he tried to convince himself that the message just hadn't got through, that they were awake, Rebekah more update with the modern world had suggested that perhaps the secretary had just told him Klaus had called and not past the message on.

Taking a plane and exploring a modern city after nine hundred years of change was daunting, but for the most part it reminded him what his siblings had caused him to miss. 

He hadn't brought up the courage to ask about Sage, unsure he could handle the news that she had died alone during his time locked away.

Arriving at the stupidly tall building of metal and glass, and walking into it to find Elijah's name at the top of the board at least added to the idea the message of their awakening just hadn't reached him.

Klaus had known where Elijah was all this time, Finn remembered his rants just a few years ago over a letter updating him, that Elijah was moving from the french countryside to London. Even in the damned box while Klaus hissed about betrayal and Elijah mocking him by bragging, Finn had seen it for a plea from contract; Elijah telling Klaus just where he was for letters or visits.

Yet Elijah had never made the attempt to meet Klaus himself, which was out of character.

Part of him wanted to think it was self-preservation, that Elijah had realised Klaus would likely place him in a box along with them and chose himself but Finn hadn't mentioned that to Klaus knowing it would cause his brother to look at him like a kicked puppy and besides he knew Elijah would never have forsaken Rebekah or Kol.

“I'm here for Elijah Mikaelson.” he said to the woman at the desk.

“Excuse me?” the woman blinked up at him with confusion. “No one sees him without a pre-arranged meeting.”

“I’m his brother.” he explained, leaning closer to compel her, a flicker of irritation at the idea of his brother being too good to see him that felt far too much like Klaus’s numerous rants.

“That's-” she started but before he could compel they were interrupted

“I'll take it from here.” A voice called making Finn turn to see a young man walking towards the as he got closer Finn realised he was a vampire.

He knew this was a front for the vampire organisation that Elijah had once built, lost and apparently reclaimed, abandoning them for it but Finn suddenly realised most those in the lobby were human.

“Mr Davis.” The woman called Finn took in the man, barely more than a boy really, late teens, early twenties at most and even as a vampire he was still fresh.

“Inform Mr Mikaelson that Finn Mikaelson has arrived, I'll take him up.” the man told her before introducing himself to Finn “I’m Art.”

He inclined his head and followed the man into a small metal box, not jumping when the box started moving.

“You know me?” he asked to ignore his slip up.

“Elijah spoke of his siblings while he trained us,” the man explained, Finn narrowed his eyes at the use of Elijah first name, the audible note of fondness in it that both screamed familiarity, this Art knew Elijah personally, “I was given a photo of Niklaus before I went to Mystic Falls and Kol was described as looking like a younger version of Elijah, which makes you the oldest.”

“He trained you?” he questioned, placing his wondering why he had been in mystic falls asides, Klaus had mentioned some of the Strix having found Miss Gilbert before the ritual and focused on the boy’s age and when Elijah could have met him, after he was turned perhaps;

“The Strix pick some humans to train to become members, at some point they started collecting homeless teens, since we wouldn't be missed, Elijah took us under his wing.” the man shrugged, a slight smirk at some kind of inside joke perhaps appearing.

Finn kept his face straight at the information, trying to ignore how it was adding to the wrongness of all of this .

That sounded like a cult and Elijah wouldn’t train what amounted to children into warriors, he wasn't their father.

“In what?” he asked hoping the answer settled the growing unease.

“Everything, from fighting to negotiation.” the boy told him almost proudly. “I never planned on becoming a vampire, he always made sure we got a choice in the end but since it happened I'm going to help him in any way I can.”

That didn't help, Finn thought, he wasn't surprised that Elijah had inspired that loyalty but the zeal was a little concerning, that this boy apparently didn't care about losing his human life as long as it was in service to Elijah was horrifying.

“And that's what he does here training?” None of this was right, Klaus, Kol, even Rebekah were more likely to set themselves up at the head of a cult but not Elijah.

“He’s the founder of the Strix and one of the three heads, that's just part of what he does.” Art said with a shug, leaving the small space silent until it stopped with a ding and the door opened to the top floor. “And we're here, the door you’re looking for has the gold falcon on you can't miss it.”

—

He wasn't lying, Finn discovers as he finds the door with a pair of vampires standing outside, identical suits right down to matching daylight rings. 

They both give him an obvious once over before one opens the door leaving Finn questioning why Elijah would need protection from those he would clearly be stronger than.

Very little could be a threat to Elijah, so why did he need bodyguards, it was another addition to growing wrongness.

Elijah is both as he remembers and unexpected.

Sitting in the centre of the room at a large clearly expensive desk, dressed in a sharp modern suit, yet unlike their brothers who Finn had opened his eyes to find their hair shorn short, Elijah’s hair remained as he remembered, long hanging loose around his shoulders, it was at most a little longer, curls larger likely due to the ease of modern inventions.

Elijah’s smile is bright when he sees him.

Seeing Elijah wasn’t changing his thoughts on things being off, even with the fancy office and expensive clothes he didn’t look right, comfortable, confident.

Finn had watched Elijah grow, in some ways he was far better acquainted with the human fragile version that the cold monster he had become since they became vampires. 

So he knew what his brother looked nervous and trying to hide it, he knew what his brother looked like trapped. 

The fact Elijah honesty looked so heartbreakingly happy to see him just added to it. None of his siblings had looked like that for him since they were children. 

Elijah had been alone for decades, Klaus hadn’t visited him, the rest of them were in boxes, still he shouldn’t be looking at Finn like that.

He ignored the desk, and walked straight to his brother, looking almost small in the chair, he couldn’t do it without contact as had come almost naturally to Elijah but Finn moved his hand to push the stubborn curl out of Elijah’s eyes, it was once a familiar action, yet it caused Elijah to freeze and look at him with wide eyes. 

He never managed to get much practice at the art Elijah had developed, nor had he ever returned the bargain by teaching Elijah the talent he and Sage had perfected looking through birds eyes. The five had struck and Finn had been left in a box and for much of the last century listening to Klaus complaints at Elijah picking the Strix over him. 

It looked like he had at least. The body guards, outside the fancy top floor office, the gold falcon on the door. The ring on Elijah’s finger matches the Strix guards and isn’t the one mother made the one to match them. 

Something was wrong and it was getting harder for Finn to ignore.

The moment he made contact, his vision flickered from Elijah sitting in the chair looking up at him to a white hallway.

Before he could fully settle at the shift of awareness, he was hit by a weight around his waist and he looked down to find a much younger Elijah, waist high throwing himself at him, thin arms wrapping tightly around him. 

“Save me from the monsters.” He pleads looking up at Finn with big wet eyes. 

Before he- the image vanished. 

He looked back at his brother, grown, shoulder length curls shifting as Elijah’s looked around them. 

“My apologies it’s been a while since I’ve had anyone- “ Elijah started before he shook his head, 

It was a poor excuse as it explained nothing, and completely out of character for Elijah to slip up in such a way but before he could question more Elijah pushed ahead “We won’t have much time, explain why you're here.”

“Mother wants you home, to be a family again.” he explained about to question what was so urgent when Elijah reaction stops him.

Finn flinches as the sound that escaped his brother could be nothing other than a laughing sob. 

“That can’t- why?” Elijah demanded ignoring his own slip

“What happe-“ ‘to you?’ Finn wanted to ask but Elijah once again spoke before he could get a question out.

“Why does she want- what can’t Tristan hear?” 

“Tristan-” he feels his eyebrow jump is a surprise.

He had seen Tristan De Martel's name on the board alongside Elijah’s but couldn't figure out why Elijah seemed concerned by his first sired. If Elijah had returned to the Strix at some point they had to have somehow made peace over Elijah cruelty during his decoy plan.

“We don’t have time.” Elijah hissed suddenly, the look of suspicion sent at him far more normal than the smile from before “Finn, what are you after?”

“She found a way to end us, mother” he found himself admitting the dozens of lies and excuses he had thought of on the way here vanishing as the wrongness of all of it threw him off balance. “ to correct the mistake she made. To link us and then-”

“When one goes, we follow.“ Elijah finished for him. “How’s mother alive?”

Finn’s shock delays him from answering, he hadn’t expected Elijah to expect the plan so easily, there was a reason it was between him and mother, but something was off with this Elijah enough that Finn had confessed to him and for Elijah to apparently accept it instead of arguing against it.

“Ayana’s line.”

“Ah,” Elijah smiled, it was muted compared to what it should be and Finn realises even within Elijah’s mind all of him was muted “the Bennet witches.”

He should look into what had caused this change more, try to help but Mother had sent him for her plan and something had pushed Elijah onto their side he could use that.

“I promise it’s an escape.” he offers, an escape from the long life, from whatever was weighing on his brother, he remembered the few times Elijah had spoken to his coffin, unaware Finn was awake, worries and despair of watching their siblings lose sight of their humanity.

Part of him still expected Elijah to suddenly lash out, to warn the others and Finn not sure who his siblings would side with between Esther and Elijah. The plan would easier with one less sibling against them.

“What does she need?” Elijah sighed

“You to return.” he repeats, Elijah could likely do with a reunion with their siblings he thinks deciding to blame the muted way Elijah was of their time separated from his family, Elijah has always thrived on their family.

“That can’t happen,” Elijah chuckled bitterly, “if I did the Strix would follow and they're very against my death. Spells have a work-around, what instead?” Elijah asked, reminding Finn that Elijah had, for several years, sat in on his lessons with mother.

“Your blood, we can bypass the other half of the spell, if we take more of your blood.“ he agreed, it would force them to use more since they couldn’t get him to drink the Miss Gibert’s blood.

“This link, it’ll be strong, what happens to one-" Elijah started asking.

“Likely only deadly blows .” Finn mused, it would be far more likely to be discovered if any bump of bruise was transferred.

“I’ll have to behave them.“ Elijah said with a humourless twist od his lips, adding “whatever happens Tristan can't know.'' Before Finn could ask anything more Elijah vanished and Finn was thrown from his mind by a sharp pain in his shoulder.

—

—

Finn finds the cause quickly as he follows his brother out of his mind to find Tristan de Martel leaning on the chair his brother sat one hand on his shoulder, it seems harmless if Finn hadn't felt the pain that had pulled Elijah's from his mental grasp.

“Finn, it's good to see you.” Tristan de Martel greeted with a smile.

“Tristan, it seems you've done well.” he replied politely, for all they were once friends that was nine centuries ago and something was wrong with everything here, so even as a part of him wanted to tear Tristan's hand from his brother's person he stepped back to give Elijah space.

“Thank you, but it all started with what Elijah built, since his return we’ve just climbed to new heights.” Tristan told him, making no attempt to step away from Elijah himself, leaving him almost draped over his brother.

A brother who let out an annoyed sigh and leaned back against Tristan, in a way Finn was familiar with since it was Elijah's non-verbal way of trying to get their siblings to back off, whenever they decide to be possessive and clingy.

Elijah had always preferred physical contact either when he started it or with plenty of warning, Finn tried not to think about how that was likely caused by him and their parents failing to get him used to it as a child.

“You're back together?” He asked before he could think better of it, his own disapproval taking a back seat at the confusion, after Elijah had turned Tristan into a monster and used him, causing him to lose everything, after whatever happened to make Elijah almost snap at the mere mention of Tristan's name after they left the court.

This was wrong.

“Yes.” Tristan answered him with a bright smile that contained more viciousness than anything else

“How?” the word escapes him without any plan.

“It was all a misunderstanding.” Tristan tells him, as his hand moved to thread through Elijah’s hair, clearly pulling slightly until Elijah leans into it to force it to relax.

“Tristan.” Elijah warns quietly, making Tristan blink as he seemed almost surprised by his own actions, he still didn't step away, just moved his hand down to Elijah's neck without a word.

He hates that part of it reminds him of their parents at Mikael’s most temperamental, how Mother knew just how to calm or redirect the anger, a misunderstanding was what mother had claimed the rare time Mikael’s grip had left bruises, when Finn was a child she had stopped using that excuse when Mikael’s anger ended up being aimed towards his sons instead.

Elijah’s eyes widen as he meets Finn’s eyes and he looks away, Finn knows anger and shame in his brother but normally it was dealt with with Elijah pushing everyone to a distance, to draw up walls around him.

Now Elijah sat still and allowed Tristan’s touches, the clear display he was putting on for Finn.

Wrong.

“So what brings you to visit Elijah?” Tristan drawls, and Finn can't get the words out as he stares at the picture of the pair.

“Mother requires my blood.” Elijah speaks for him anyway, telling Tristan carelessly like he hadn’t seemed almost desperate to hide this from him within his mind.

“Your mother's dead.” Tristan told them both looking between the with furrowed brows.

“Not anymore.” Elijah rolled his shoulders and Finn wondered if it was less a shrug and more an attempt to get some space between Tristan and him. If it was, it didn’t work.

“And she's with your brothers?” Tristan arched a brow at Elijah who suddenly looked guilty, confusing Finn, what did Tristan know of their mother.

“Your brother can be forgiven for everything, can't he?” Tristan asked.

The meaning hits him hard.

“You know,” he snapped, stepping closer to Elijah, ignoring the fact he was crowding him further, Tristan still made no attempt to remove himself from Elijah  “You've known Klaus killed mother and not Father, how long?” He demands because Klaus had seemed sure no one knew until mother had returned to tell them.

“Niklaus told my sister, who told Elijah, who then compelled her to break his heart before making us bait to draw your father away.” Tristan explained uninterestedly, as if that hadn’t destroyed his life and all he knew, looking between them while Elijah refused to look at either of them.

“You've known all this time.” Finn snarled at Elijah, the anger was weaker than it should be, the memory of that brief image of the child and the way Elijah seemed small as he looked down on him in the chair.

“Your brother is heartless, isn't he?” Tristan called, like it was a joke.

That caused Elijah to stiffen in his chair before he turned to glare at Tristan

“Don't even think about it.” he warned him.

“I wouldn't.” Tristan promised to remove the hand on Elijah to sit over his own heart, Finn would have been more thankful if Tristan wasn't still standing over Elijah leaning against the chair.

“Is that why you returned to them, your Strix, for protection from Klaus?” Finn asked, Klaus had been heartbroken by Aurora if he knew then Elijah was truly in danger of never escaping the dagger.

“Klaus doesn't know that I knew or-” his little brother started,

“You were behind breaking his heart.” he finishes for him.

“I didn't plan for that, I was angry and didn't know about compulsion.” Elijah explained with excuses.

“We're gotten distracted,” Tristan interrupted them “as much as watching your family drama amuses me. Why does your mother require your blood?”

“ Why do the Sisters ever need it, it's an ingredient.“ Elijah replied.

“She has all your siblings, why yours as well?” 

“Whatever happens Tristan can't know” Elijah had said and no matter what he learned he was going to believe that.

“It's to prolong her life.” He lied.

“What?” The both asked looking at him

“The way she was revived is short lived; she needs the blood of all her children to fix it.” He invented. 

“And we should help because?” Tristan asked as Finn stared unsure why Elijah’s blood was any of his business.

The screaming wrongness was getting louder and he couldn't ignore or excuse them.

Tristan’s hand was once again on his brother’s person and this was coming across more than a possessive lover, more unnatural as Elijah accepted it and the collective was bringing back memories Finn had never wanted to think about again.

She’s the one who made us” Elijah instead explained “I’m sure she could help us with the unlinking.”

“Unlinking?” He questioned 

“The reason I was returned to the Strix was due to their belief that my death would take them as well.” Elijah explained

Before Finn could wonder how the Strix discovered something he thought only mother knew, his mind caught the wording, i was returned, not i returned.

The sound of movement outside the room alerts them all but while Elijah looked surprised and concerned Tristan looked pleased.

He knows the Strix are gathering, but there is no threat, really Finn may be the least experienced of his siblings thanks to nine hundred years in the box but he was an Original as was Elijah, exactly how did they think they could stop them..

“It’s fine Tristan, Finn may leave.” Elijah said before Finn could point out that and suddenly Finn had caused the wrongness spelt out to him.

“We have chains and a cell prefect for an Original.” Tristan smirked.

Finn freezes as the words force him to stop denying what his mind was shouting at him, it's the open admission forcing him to accept what the puzzle pieces had been trying to tell him.

Elijah hadn’t left them, by his own choice

“If he doesn’t return my family will be interested, you’ve proven the Strix can take up one at a time, but three, Klaus, Kol, Rebekah and the Original witch.” Elijah argued unsurprised at the idea of taking Finn captive.

But why would he, how else would they be so sure the chains and cell would hold an Original if they hadn't already tested it.

“You have a point.” Tristan admits looking down at Elijah in the chair a hand once again reaching out to settle in the curls despite Elijah's clear disinterest “Besides, it's unlikely your family will believe any tales Finn takes back anyway. Klaus has been so very sure you abandoned him for us and to believe the truth would have him acknowledge he failed you wouldn’t it?”

Finn's eyes narrowed at the pair of them, the way Tristan crowded over his brother, Elijah looking smaller than the man Finn knows is shorter and should be weaker.

It wasn’t just intimate, it was old, a familiar pattern between them where Elijah let himself be pushed and controlled to avoid pain and lash back.

It was growing up under Mikael’s rages but worst, because that was something they all shared even if it was at different levels, this was Elijah alone, this was practised, trained, this would have taken time to develop-

“How long?” he words crawl out without his plan, forcing both of them to look at him.

“How long since I’ve had him? or how long has he stopped fighting and accepted it?” Tristan smiled at him, apparently given up all pretence as his hand kept running through Elijah’s hair. 

“90 years and six months.” Elijah answers his tone flat and voice empty. 

“Can't go into weeks and days as well?” Tristan asked, his hand trailing from Elijah’s curls to the side of his throat, thumb set just right in the centre of his throat to turn into a choke hold in an instance.

“I can but Finn doesn’t need to know that.” Elijah replied easily as he let him, shifting his head in a way that made the grip easier for Tristan, but took the discomfort away.

Ninety years alone.

Klaus knew where he was, had for years, maybe from the beginning.

How did they- how did Klaus let this happen? His favourite brother, the one he was almost as possessive over as Rebekah.

The letter Klaus had ranted about, the silent plea that Klaus had missed.

“How?” He chokes out, Elijah attitude makes sense now, muted desperation mixed with apathy, boredom, he had grown used to his imprisonment, captivity. 

Thralldom, his human life flashed in his mind, he knew how mother and father relationship had started, as a child he hadn't noticed the horrors it could hide, Sage's mother was a clear example, seem more as a spare womb than a person by Sage's father.

Here was his stubborn mouthy little brother, sitting still and letting himself be touched and used without complaint.

“Well, your siblings decided to split up and we couldn’t leave our founder wandering alone, anyone could take him.” Tristan explained, with false earnestness.

“How did you keep him?” He bit out keeping his voice even if barley as Elijah refused to look at him, they mentioned chains before but he was free of them now as he sat and let Tristan touch him, not even showing a reaction as Tristan’s hand flexed in a way that had to have his nails digging into the back of his neck.

Elijah who had stood up to their father for their younger siblings wouldn’t have just left them alone, had turned one lover into bait and abandoned other to protect his siblings wouldn’t have left Klaus to dagger Rebekah and wander alone, he wouldn’t have given in so easily, he would have tried to get back to them.

“That’s our secret, isn’t it Elijah?” Tristan asked, using his grip to turn his brother to face him, and leaning closer.

“It doesn’t matter Finn.” Elijah manages before Tristan silences him with a kiss, Elijah manages a noise of disagreement and Finn catches Elijah’s something in his eyes before he closes them.

He had liked Tristan De Martel as a human. Seen him as almost a friend, Tristan had disapproved of Klaus and Kol’s behaviours, looked at Finn with respect, they had shared long discussions on politics and hunting, the only pitfall of the man was the way he had looked at Elijah, not the common way that normally happened when people he liked met his much more charming younger brother and compared them, but the way that spoke of hunger, which had grown worse when Elijah reciprocated to it well.

At least the Count’s looks at Rebekah were kept to just Looks from a distance and quickly forgotten when he found new interests, Tristan's hadn't and while they had kept most of it from his sights, sharing quarters meant he knew when Elijah returned late at nights and why.

He and Elijah had come to arguments over it on more than one occasion.

He had tried to warn Elijah but as always he had been ignored, he had noticed the growing darkness between them as Elijah started spending nights away with the young lordling.

They managed to inspire the worst in each other.

He had been angry on Tristan's behalf when he learned what Elijah had done to the three of them.

After they left that place he hated seeing pieces of the human he'd almost call friend in the facade his brother started wearing.

Now he doesn’t think there is anyone he wants dead more. He wants to tear him to pieces and take his brother back to mother and their siblings, scream at Niklaus for missing this.

He knows his control has slipped, and his anger is showing in his red eyes as Tristan pulls back to smile at him, blood on his lips from Elijah. 

Elijah stiffens looking between them suddenly nervous in a way he remembers mother when Mikael-

Stop thinking about that, don’t compare them.

Not when he can’t do anymore now than he could then, when he was going to leave Elijah here.

The pit of his stomach falls away as it hits him the only reason Elijah was willing to work with mother plan was because of this. Elijah wouldn’t have accepted it unless he was desperate and Finn hated that he was going to use it, use whatever Tristan de Martel and this collection of monsters he called the Strix had done to his brother to push him to that.

And to do that he was going to be leaving Elijah here, leaving a brother who looked at him with hope for the first time in years, longer.

He was going to be freeing him, he promised himself, he’d use it now and in the afterlife whatever it was, he’d make it up to his brother if he could.

He leaves not long after that, dismissed by Tristan's word and escorted out, two vials of Elijah’s blood heavy on him than they should be.

The image of Tristan de Martel biting Elijah's wrist to bleed into the glass would be scarred into his mind, Tristan licking his brother blood from his lips, as Elijah allowed it with a bored expression.

How long,? How much? Half formed questions he can never ask for fear of the answers.

He left Elijah sitting in the chair still, Tristan standing over him.

“Goodbye brother.” Elijah's voice follows him as he leaves, guilt settling on his shoulders.

—-

As the pain from the dagger faded and he stood up to face mother’s concern, it was clear what happened.

One of his siblings had been daggered and the link had proven itself true and made it affect them all.

When he feels hands around his throat as Klaus and Kol confront them later in the woods he sees their confusion and concerns for Rebekah as the invisible hands tighten to choke them all.

It vanished quickly but leaves Finn with  the heavy  guilt even as he flees with mother.

He knows Elijah is alone, he left him there.

The least he deserves is knowing the cause, Tristan de Martel’s hands around his brother’s unresisting neck.

[selenacosmic]

Romance in the office.

Chapter 20- making up.

The words stuck with me, though I didn’t know how to react. There was a bad taste in my mouth, a feeling of impatience building up, I don’t like this feeling.

Yoshimoto looked at me with a serene expression, there was sympathy in his eyes, but also relief from telling me the truth. I took a deep breath to continue asking him for more, i couldn’t stop now that I know so much.

“An arranged marriage… that would have made sense if shingen was younger, why now?” It’s not that shingen was old, but he was an older man and had built his independence over the years, it’s strange that his grandfather would still try to control his life like this.

“On that note, I must agree with you. The only thing we can think of is that he is holding something against my cousin.” So, it’s possible that their grandfather is blackmailing Shingen, it must be something important if it’s affecting him so much.

“If that’s the case, wouldn’t dating me, even if we were pretending, put him in danger?” Going against his grandfather this way would only give him motive to harm shingen.

“While he is a difficult man, his grandfather cares a lot about the company’s reputation. If shingen was seen dating someone, only to be seen being engaged to someone else, rumors would circulate and would bring a bad reputation to him.” That does make sense, I could see that Yoshimoto was annoyed when talking about their grandfather. Perhaps for now i should give him a break.

“Thank you, Yoshimoto. It means a lot that you are telling me all of this.” I am not sure if he sees me as someone to be trusted, but I knew I couldn’t give up now that I was aware of the situation.

Yoshimoto sipped on his wine, finishing everything in one go. He turned on the chair he was sitting to face me with a less stressed look. “Don’t take what I told you for granted, I trust that you will do the right thing.”

That’s all I needed to know, what I had to do next was risky but it was important, I had to talk to Shingen. Yoshimoto offered to give me a ride home, which I was grateful for. Before confronting my ex boss/fake lover, I needed to gather my thoughts to know how to approach him.

After getting home, I put the box with my belongings on the kitchen table, this was an issue for later. Now what I needed was a bath to clear my head and get into fresh clothes. Before I could leave to the bathroom though, something caught my attention. It was the cat mug. Placed on top of the shelf, among other cups that were placed in an organized pattern, it stood out when compared to the other clear glass cups and plain white mugs. Somehow that’s how I felt about shingen, he stood out among other people in a good way, he was unique and beautiful… perhaps this feeling that I have really is love.

A bright smile touch my lips as I hurried to the bathroom, determination to get him back to his senses building up.

—————

My body felt amazing after a bath, I was needing it after the day I had. Though I couldn’t let myself relax just yet, there was much to do now. Knowing that my boss lives on the same apartment as me, I had an advantage on how to get to him.

The thing is, I had stopped to think why I was so worried about this, I could happily enjoy the new job position I had and the money from the contract, but it didn’t felt right to me. Looking at the cat mug on the kitchen, my feelings became much clearer. So this is love… I only experienced feeling attracted to someone or just small infatuation before, but love? I only heard of it in dramas and love stories, it felt sweet but painful. I felt like I couldn’t leave shingen aside, no matter how much money I was offered. At least I was lucky that the cliche of being offered money in exchange of breaking up with shingen didn’t happen to me, I have noticed it’s a pattern in dramas.

Putting my worries aside, I hurried out of the room, the window from the living room showed the last rays of sunlight for this day, night was coming and it was going to be dark soon. Would visiting him at such a late hour strike a misunderstanding to him…? No, this is a serious situation and I can’t leave it for another occasion.

I had put comfortable clothes and fluffy slippers, there was no certainty on whether he would let me in to talk. I don’t think he would be rude to leave me standing at the door, but I wasn’t sure if he would open the door at all. I had to have a bit of confidence in myself, this was for him.

Each step I took towards the elevator was nerve wracking, every possible scenario playing in my mind as I got closer to my destination. The cramped space inside the elevator only made my anxiety bigger, he tried pushing me away today, what certainty did I have that he would listen? Well, I am not one to give up easily, and I will not lose him after I realized my true feelings.

Once I had reached his floor, the gravity of the situation was hitting in, each step I took towards his door felt heavier, as if i would froze in place and never be able to reach the door and knock.

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on his door, waiting for a response. It was now or never, so I couldn’t give up easily or let him slip away. I heard footsteps approaching the door, that sweet voice of his shouting ‘one moment’ before finally opening the door.

I had to put my bravest face to look at him, his eyes widened for a moment before softening. He leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed.

“Angels really do exist, here is one right in front of me.” It was like the distance I felt from him this morning was gone, I could see affection in his eyes, the same warm affection I saw flicker in his gaze this morning before he pushed me away. His smile held so many emotions.

“Shingen… I think you know why I am here.” My voice was serious, but soft to show closure.

His smile seemed sad, was he expecting me to come and confront him? Regardless, I would find out as we talked. “Yes, I do. But I cannot leave a goddess standing, come inside.” He moved out of the way so that I could enter.

That’s odd, he didn’t question how I knew the truth, or what truth I was speaking about. Did he predict that Yoshimoto would tell me everything?

I stepped inside and felt a rush of comfort, I was so close to him again but only physically, I had to go deeper with our conversation. He guided me towards the living room, where we sat on his sofa, the same comfortable sofa where we got a bit more intimate. Even if it was just a kiss, it felt like there was a connection.

He sat next to me, those beautiful gray eyes focused on me. My hands were fidgeting a bit but I felt more confident now that I was next to him.

“Shingen, I know the truth. Why did you lie to me about so much?” My eyes focused on his, holding his gaze.

He looked thoughtful for a moment while gazing at me, his hand reached out to touch my cheek. He pulled back fast. “I didn’t think you needed to know everything. You played your part, and that was all that mattered.”

“You have to be honest with me, why end the contract so early?” The whole point of fake dating me was to avoid the arranged marriage, ending this now puts him in danger again.

That smile disappeared, his face much more serious now, holding the same coldness I felt this morning at his office. It was like he had put a wall between us.

“Why do you care about that, Mrs. Secretary? Did you come comfort your ex boss now that you don’t work under me?” Those words felt like sharp knives in my heart, but something told me this wasn’t how he felt.

You are trying to push me further away, aren’t you?

Well, that won’t happen. I know that those words were far too practiced to be true.

“You ought to know me better than that, Shingen.” His name sounded so natural in my tongue now, before I struggled to call him so formally like this. I moved closer on the couch, noticing his eyes were a bit startled. “The contract may have ended, but I am not moving away nor am I taking the money I was promised. No amount in the world could compare to the feeling of being by your side.”

I was much closer now, my hands moved to grip at his and not let go.

He sighed deeply, the corners of his cheeks were red as he furrowed his brows. “I should have never asked you to do this with me, I could have admired you from afar as just my cute secretary.” His warm arms pulled me onto his lap, which surprised me. “Do you have any idea of what you do to me? I don’t think I can let you go now.”

“I don’t want you to, because I won’t let go of you either.” I smiled at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. I don’t think we have ever been this close before, this was different from that time we were kissing here, it felt like we both knew what we wanted.

“My sweet, beautiful goddess…” his voice was a whisper as our faces got closer to each other, we didn’t waste any time to kiss each other.

This time it wasn’t just a quick kiss nor a confused make out, we knew how we felt.

To be continued…

[hjh-ceilo-monster]

BTS Song drabble : D - day (MYG)

Summary : In this chasing game, one was at the top, another was at the bottom. To break the hierarchy, there should only be one winner.

The law’s hand 

or 

The outlaw

Who would win?

Photos : All copyright reserved to the owners.

Gif. : Special thanks to @sugajimin​ for further inspo. There’re tiny subtitle that I put to create further engagement and imagination.(I hope so🤞🏽)

Plot : Special thanks to Psych-Hunter(iQIYI) and (Su)R-chwita ep.9😹

Ambience :  1930's Ambient City Soundscape, Vintage City Sounds 

Trigger warning : (quite) detailed violent scene, self-harm, death of characters

This fanfiction is for entertaining purposes. The story has entirely written up from the writer’s imagination from different inspiration. None of this should be taken seriously.

Switch over, time tickin' and over.

Author POV.

Tick...Tick...Tick...

The water drips periodically, acting as an ambience inside the dusty room. 

The owner has been laying on his favourite couch for hours, diving deep into his thought. 

“Hyung!”

His door suddenly bangs open by someone. One of his crewmates runs inside with something in his hand. 

“We...found him...here.” The new comer hands a file, trying his best to get the message through while panting hard.

The owner flutters his eyes open. A stir comes out of his mouth before he finally becomes awake and accepts the paper.

The dark orbs skim through the file, catching the main idea out of the long paragraphs in the contract. At last, his eyes land on the bottom. Seeing familiar names with the signatures under neath them make him annoy.

“Huh? Seems like we need to give him a visit again.”

Clack...Clack..Clack..Clack..

He found out.

The end of a letter makes the man stops his footsteps. The feeling of frustration rises up, however, he can’t act out of his character here. Getting out of the building, he got into his car.

“Head back to the mansion.” He tells the driver.

“And about the case?” 

“I need to get another ‘case’.” 

Understanding what to do, he asks nothing more and leave immediately.

“ 1 beef rice noodle pottage soup, beef pork.” 

Finishing his order, he take a seat near the glass window of the cooking station. Not so long after, his order serves.

“A tough day again, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, ma’am.”

“Quit calling me ma’am, boy. Your my vip customer here. You have been here since 10th grade.”

“Or you want me to call you ajuma?” He asks jokingly.

“Aish, call me what ever you want.” The old lady move back to her station.

Minutes later, his crewmates enter the shop, filling the entire floor. Seeing their boss enjoy his meal, no one dares to utter anything that is work-related. 

“ell e beore I et pis... Ou ares ar oo obious.” *Tell me before I get piss. Your stares are too obvious.* The boss speaks while munching his favourite noodle.

“They’re round the corner, hyung.” Someone finally speaks. 

The man taps his finger as if he applaud himself. Coming here today makes his plans flow. 

“Ma’am, I will come back later.” The man slips his money under the bowl. 

Everyone starts the operation. His crewmates head out of the place and prepare the vehicle for their boss. Some of them go ahead to clear their destination.

“And...I need your chopstick with me. I’ll buy a new pack in return.” He smiles at the owner who say nothing, but sighs and wave a hand as a sign to not do what he purposes.

Phone calls have been hitting on the office’s phone none stop. The police try their best to accept every call and write down the reports, running back and forth.

“People were complaining the same case...I don’t think it’s  a usual case anymore.”

“We need them to handle it.” The cheif tell his subordinates.

Speaks of the devil, the figure appears in the office as if he knows someone call him. The guy in his black suit enters the room. His height is average. However, his aura and the M brooch on his right chest can make everyone who stand in front of him always feels as if they are getting towered by him. 

He is the supreme in this place, if not the supreme in the town.

A walking law.

“Seems like you guys get in some trouble, eh?”  The room falls into a silence, having only phone calls as a background ambience.

“Sir, we got a...” The cheif gathers his courage to explain the situation, but get interrupt by the walkie talkie.

“We found him, sir. Need more people.”

Paying no attention to the cheif, the leader of special crime force says nothing. His natural poker face let no one be able to read the situation. 

“Loud and clear, right? Get your ass up and do your job.” He then heads out.

Flick...Shhh

A smoke comes out from an end of ivory-white cigarettes. He inhales the thin grey fog into his lungs, hoping it will calms his racing mind down a bit.

*Get everything ready.* He orders his right hand man back with his walkie talkie.

Huh...

A grey breath leaves his mouth along with his sighs.

“Seems like the almighty D is also a human.” A bicker from nowhere brakes his thoughts. D lifts his head up to finds the sound source.

“Shut it, Kim. Don’t piss me off even more.”

“Your brother, isn’t it?” Knowing no limit, Kim asks for more information. The man still stays silence.

“Alright, suite yourself.” 

D is by himself again in the silence. His minds is cumalating with plans. 

Shhsshhh...shhhshhh.... “Sir.”

Half and hour ago : @ WNK building

“Where is it?” 

The loud crash echos inside the building. His subordinates are busy taking down their enemy with some help from his buddy.

“Mr.Min...” 

“Speak wisely.” Min grits his teeth as a warning. 

Despite the size different, Min manages to pin down his huge enemy and threat his like a little prey. 

Weehhh...Woohhh...

The police siren comes from afar. His enemy smirks in victory.

“Who knows the genius Min will fall into my trap like a little rat too. Game over, Min.” Now the guy has a guts to speak casually.

“Now your brother will find out. Your big brother will find you.” The guy continues mocking Min, pushing him around emotionally.

“You will...ack.” Giving no chance to speak further, Min uses his chopsticks and stucks it onto the side of his neck. 

He pushes it deep as the red liquid gushing out like juice. IThe harder he push, the more it errupts out like a fountain. His other hand squeeze the neck tightly as if he is quenching an orange.

Bloody orange.

Min keeps tighten his grip onto the guy’s neck. The fountain is slowing down. Slowly and slowly, it turns into a stream of liquid.  

His shirt now paints with red splashes and spots. The paint leave its marks everywhere even on his face, creating some red blossom tattoos on his skin.

“Oh, you're so artsy.”

“No time for it, Jack.”

“I know, buddy. I get what you want. Let’s head out, yeah?”

The two finally arrive the rooftop. Looking down the building, the see bunch of police enter in with commotion.

“Look how desperate they want to catch us.” 

Min sweep his eyes from the top view. His gaze then land on a familiar black grand mercedes among the cop cars. His mouth lifts into a smirk at the sight, knowing exactly whose it belongs.

“Not really. Someone is more desperate.”

Min replies and climbe down the stairs at the side. 

“Eh, eh, wanna get caught? Eh, man.” Jack yells from a far, but Min has already gone half way through.

Plop.

“Let’s tease you a bit.”

D POV.

“No one inside.”

I stares at my subordinate. The young man stands there like statue, uttering nothing more.

“Where is the case?” I ask.

I don’t care much about the destruction of the building or the death of people inside. Fuck it, that isn’t my problem.

What I wants is the bag and a thing inside it.

I was planning to not invovle police. Moving around from the inside without making their suspicion was quite hard. It took me a few years I was to hold the power. 

A rat out of nowhere managed to get the case was out of my plan.

And now my brother get it.

“Retreat.”

I jumps into driver seat and drift his car out of the parking slot. Frustration fills me up, urging to explode. I roar the engine, filling its sound in the empty street.

“Brother, you won’t be free much longer.”

Min POV.

Thud!

“That bastard. He really bet his life on this plan.” I drop the bag onto the coffee table.

“Chill. At least, you get it.” Jack speaks nonchantly and lit his cigarrete. He sways his head from side to side while humming.

Cling...cling...cling...

“Uh, I hate it. Why do you still wear that silly hat? Those bells irritates me.”

I point at the tips of his knitting hat with two spike at each end. The man sways his head even faster.

“This. You know it’s my lucky charm. So what’s next?”

Jack changes his position. Sitting with his feets cross on my coffee table, he cocks his head to the side. I stare back at him, replying nothing. I let the silence grows and engulps our conversation.

“Hyung. We...sorry, sir.” My right hand, who bangs the door open as his habit, enters the room with another file.

“I think I might need to speed things up. Now I get the case. He will soon make his move.”

“You mean...kill you?” Jack smiles. 

“Not yet. He still needs it.” I pat the stuff on a wooden table. 

As my eyes meets him Jack’s smile gets wider. 

“Then I shall act my part.”

Author POV.

Uhhh....hmmmm.....uhhhh...hhhhmmmm......

Min sleeps soundly in his favourite place. The tiring day drains him a lot of energy, leaving the man a few muscles sourness. 

Ahhhh!

Bang! Bang!

The guy wide awakes from the sound. The screams and shouts are getting louder. He is about to stand up, however the ropes around his hands prevent him to do so.

Click.

A revolver taps behind his neck. He can feel the cold metal rubs gently against his skin before it forecfully press back onto the spot.

“Have a sweat dream?” A chill voice comes from behind.

“Should I be glad that we finally meet again?” Min answers back with a little cockiness.

“You sure want your head to be blown off.”

“And you are talkative, not like a usual you.” Min turns himself and grab a gun near him, but he meets with empty pocket.

“Oh, I borrow your rovolver by the way. I know if you die, at least you will love to die with this cutie.”

D walks around the tub for a moment, searching his eyes through the room. 

“So this is where you live. So shabby and poor...like you.” 

D grabs a plastic chair from the corner of the room and take a seat. He stares down his brother with the eyes of disgusted. 

“Rustic and cozy, isn’t it?”

Crossing his leg, D takes out his cigarrete and lit it. He wraps his lips and inhales a bitter scent from it a few times before he continues.

“Now, let’s make a deal. Those stacks of money are all yours. Just give me the case and leave this place. I’ll handle everything. You can live you life far away from here and me in...”

Min lift his hands, interrupting his brother’s talk. Despite the bond around his wrists, he reaches out and grab onto the white stick. He watches the little flame in silence, the sentences after turns muted as he pays no attention to them. 

Puff....

He throws the stick toward the shelf. The flame lits in a blink of an eye. Min give no care at those ‘valuable’ papers in front of him. Now they are burning bright red and blue. 

He thinks this is more beautiful.

“You...bastard....” D grits his teeth in anger. Now he grabs onto Min’s neck firmly.

“Tell me where’s the case.” He demand. Min keeps his poker face and answers nothing, pissing his brother further more.

“What you gonna do? Kill me?” Min smiles delightfully.

Running out of patient, D uses the revolver and knockes him off.

??? POV.

“Hyung, wake up. Hyungie...don’t be like this.”

The voice comes from somewhere far away. However, the tone sounds familiar to me. 

Beepp...Beeppp...Beeeeeppppp....

The loud noise that rings in my ears is so annoying. 

What is going on here?

I try to open my eyes, but something stop me. I don’t know whether it is me or literally someone who stop me to do so. My body gets heavier and heavier.

I am drowning or so I thought.

My body sink down into the ocean, deeper and deeper. I feel a force strangle me around my neck, suffocating me alive.

No...am I even alive?

D POV.

I have been waiting for my brother’s news for a day.

That little rascal was strong enough to go through ‘drowning’, but he hasn’t woke up yet since yesterday.

“Ah...I want to kill you so bad.” I mumble.

The dagger in my hand trails up and down in motion. I make it nice and clean this time, no defect mark on its pure silver skin.

“Master, He’s awake.”

Puck.

“Nice. It’s getting boring here.” I pluck my beauty onto the table.

Sadly, I can’t use her. Like I said before, to send him back home, the least I can do is to use his pretty revolver.

I am trying to be considerated, am I not?

Min POV.

Hahhh...Huhhhh...

The fire lits around the corner. In front of me is a barrel full of water, reflecting my face. There are a few scratch with the blood seeping through.

I squint my eyes to focus the scenarios around me. The place look oddly like somewhere in my memory, but in a dusty and old version. My brain storms some idea to form an answer.

Soon, I get the answer, but from him.

“Look like my little boy didn’t remember this place.” I look up and meet his brown orbs, the scar on his right eyes fades a bit, but still visible.

“You give me the scar and try to kill me once here, remember?”

A flashback runs inside my head like a reel. The man with exact looks except his hair that was longer and blond-color. The scene is overlaping each other. 

There’s me.

There’s is him. 

In a different timeline...

The palace that used to be vibrant with colors now became dull, towering my body with it shadow.

His men pin me down to the cold muddy floor, letting him look at me with those arrogant gaze. 

Smile in victory, the man finally got up from his seat and approached the balcony. 

The man was in a traditional robes. His light blond hair sparked under the moonlight. The fire around him and me make him more visible to my eyes.

“I am the owner of this place, engrave it into your skull, peasant.” 

His hand waved down, motioning his assassin to do the job. 

Author POV.

“I cut heads of people for a reason, you know. That’s how I can make sure they died...painlessly.” 

D steps onto the circle. Grabbing tight onto Min’s hair, he force the man to sink down into a barrel again.

Ackk...ack....

“Wah...that sounds so satisfying.” He forcefully raises the head up from the water.

“How was it?”

The man who calm and collect is nowhere to be found. The true color finally comes out,. D laugh out in madness, satisfying with the scene in front of him.

“When I offered you, I’ve already got what I want. You were a fool to not accept my offer, brother.” 

D stepps back and walks up to another circle, preparing to watch Min’s final moment. Waving his hand down, the assassin get ready to do his job.   

“Now, execution.”

The man forces Min’s head back into dirty liquid again, wanting to drown him to death. Min’s body stuggle as his hands try to get out of the knot. 

“Sink deep and fake your death. The revolver is at the bottom.”

“a..ack?” *Jack?*

“I can only help you this much, buddy. I even take off my lucky charm for you.”

Min does according to Jack’s plan. Sinking himself deep into the cylinder and stopped moving, he successfully fakes his death. 

“Oh, faster than I expect.” 

With the revolver in his hand, D steps down from his circle to come and onspect Min’s body. Seeing the guy freezes in his place, D laughs again with contentment. 

He takes out a ruby human-heart.

Bang! Cling!

The glass shatters.

D crashes down the fire barrels, letting the oil slatter all over the place while the fire chase down the thick black liquid. He throws his lighter, adding more fire.

“Switch over, time tickin'...”

“but not over.” 

Just then Min raises his head up with the revolver in his hand. Aiming at the head of his brother, D does nothing, but smirk.

“Agust, you shouldn’t underestimate me.” 

“If you kill me without the hear, it will be the same result like last time.”

“Let’s bet then.” Min pulls the trigger.

The ruckus at the back of them appears, however Jack’s men are faster. Doing everything according to their bosses’ plan, his men has already mixed in the group from the beginning. Agust’s people soon end up laying lifeless on the floor.

Agust dashes to Min in anger, but someone lock him from behind. His own right hand man lock tight onto the master before revealing himself.

“Ack...Kim.”

“I told you, didn’t I...suite yourself.”

Jack takes out the real heart and shatters it with his dagger.

Cling!

Click.

Bang! 

Agust doesn’t last long.

“Switch over, time tickin' and over.”

“Dr.Kim, when will he wake up?” Hoseok asks the doctor. It has been a year since Yoongi fell into a coma.  

“His personality disorder is critical, now they are inflicting themselves.”

He have hidden his mental condition so well that not even Hoseok, his best friend, knew about it. When he knew everything, it was nearly too late. 

The man nearly cut himself...in his own eyes.

Hoseok took him to hospital. Thankfully, Kim Namjoon, the doctor of his case, was still working. If not because of him, Yoongi would be gone by now.

Hmmm....

A little stir makes both of them look at the body. It is the first time that the lifeless figure makes a move or a noise. 

Hoseok’s eyes brims with tears of hope, looking back and forth between Yoongi and Namjoon. 

“Hyung...” Hoseok calls softly.

Namjoon walks to the monitor and checks the screen. 

Like a miracle, everything comes back to the normal rate. Namjoon notes down everything onto his metal clipboard before he calls nurses inside. 

“Doctor...he...”

Surfacing from the bottom of the darkness, Yoongi finally gains his conscious.

A/n note : And that’s it everyone. I hope you enjoy the story. I finally have a little vacation so here is the tribute for you guys. 

This is the first time I write my story with y/n. Hope you guys not disappointed.

Before ending this, I want to give a few explanation to the story.

After listening to the interview, what I comprehended from the music videos was that Yoongi were fighting with his own personas. Like Namjoon said, he was the only one so far with 3 names. And, the fact that Yoongi devided his personalities accordingly to them made it sometimes difficult for himself to make music.  “If I make it, will this represent suga bts, agust d or me as Yoongi?”

Sum up events : Yoongi faced personality disorder to the point he went into the coma due to self-infliction. His personas, D (The dark past with anger and agressiveness) and Min (The real yoongi), fought over to control the body during Yoongi unconscious inside his mind. The ruby human-heart like that made out of glass was the core, the conscious. Destroying it mean you kill the consious of that persona. Different timelines, I came up with this idea from daechwita, thinking what if he failed to mute (killed) the tyrant king back then. Looking it in that aspect, personally, I think it somehow fit the explanation of Yoongi’s triology. Letting the strong and fury persona control you to handle hate and prejudice, but at the same time, you were the one who deepen your own scars. What if it is getting out of control?

I wrote this story with a retro vibe because of the Haegeum’s settings. From the research I’ve read, the location was age around 1930 - 1960. Starting in 30s, the market hit its peaks around 40s - 50s before the fire incident in 60s. If I was wrong, I sincerely apologized for the mistakes.

Jack and Kim in the story, I used the image of Hoseok from Jack in the box album and Namjoon from Sexy Numkin. I saw a twitter about what if the three cross path. I didn’t capture the account nor remembered the name. If the idea owner come and see this, I apologize for not crediting you on the top of my ff🙇🏽‍♀️

I think that’s all. Thank you for your attentive reading, see you next session.

[omitsucoven]

Day One Writober : Lovers To Ennemies (English Version)

Hi ! And Welcome to the first day of the Writober. Here is the English version ! Hope you will enjoy ! The translation is approximative since english is not my mother language.

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Word Count : 828

Letter Count (no spaces): 3k530

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"It was 11pm. I was on my way to my usual rendezvous point in the same ridiculous get-up I had to wear every time I went out. Forced to hide my beautiful ink-blue hair. What a waste. Not to mention the fact that my mask covering the bottom of my beautiful, gorgeous face was suffocating. The only accessory that didn't bother me was the glasses that had to hide my crimson eyes. They were actually quite cool. I rather liked them. Even if in my eyes they weren't very useful."

"I finally arrived at my destination after about twenty minutes' walk. I'd taken a seat on the same bench, in the same park and opposite the same parking space waiting for my beloved. Phone in hand, I realised that I'd arrived slightly early. I was exasperated at the idea of having to wait. I hated waiting. I started browsing the applications on my phone. I used to browse articles and news about myself to pass the time. I had the same smile on my lips. Nothing but good things! As usual, but anyway, back to the point. There was no suspicion of any potential relationship other than a friendly one about me."

"Then, as usual, when I'd finished reading, I went to see what was going on with him. As it happened, he wasn't so great. I was bored. So I started rereading some of the headlines and looking at the images that illustrated some of the articles. I couldn't believe my eyes! He'd been at my group's last book signing! And I didn't even know about it! So I took the time to read the whole article. When I got to the final image, I started looking at the illustration. I had zoomed in as far as I could. Surprisingly, the place was very close to the signing spot, but, important detail, he had a letter in his hands that he was trying to hide."

"Call me crazy if you want, but I clearly recognised the logo of the rival agency to mine. The average person would have thought it was a contract proposal or something, but my instincts told me it was more complex."

"Call it paranoia if you like, but let me finish! I was so engrossed in my reflection, my reading and my analysis that I hadn't noticed that the van I'd been waiting for had just arrived. So I looked at the time on my phone. Ten minutes late? I thought. I think. So I got up from my bench and approached the car, which I knew all too well. As I opened the back door, a red head greeted me with a smile. I wasn't in the mood. I got in, not bothering to close the door all the way. He opened his arms in front of me, signalling that he wanted his usual embrace. I hadn't moved an inch. I stared at him. The delay, the secrecy. Where did he think he was? My boyfriend tilted his head questioningly. I should have found him cute. But I was far too vindictive for that. After a few seconds, I broke the silence and told him about my 'discovery'. As I went on, I saw that he seemed to be breaking down. I was slightly wound up."

"However, his reaction was... unexpected. He simply burst out laughing. He then looked at me. Oh, that look. I'm biting my fingers just thinking about it. I remember it so well. His blue eyes, which had once showered me with love, had allowed themselves to stare at me, to despise me. What he said next was even more disturbing. I listened to his explanations. He was contemplating an affair with the rising star of the other agency. I realised that I too had been a tool in his rise. He wanted to start a relationship with her while staying with me. What nerve. At the time, I didn't really understand. I acted without really thinking and I slapped my former beloved. I didn't cry. I was too angry for that. His eyes went wide. He was in shock!”

"After that, I said something like: 'From now on, don't contact me, don't call me, I want nothing more to do with you. You, Asahi Zurui, are now, in my eyes, a pathetic little Idol who tried to ruin my career. I don't know what fate I have in store for you, but you should know that those who jeopardise my career don't last long". I didn't give him time to finish and left. I was furious. After that, he tried to make amends, but I never replied. After all, our agencies weren't friends. Why should I give him a chance? We'd become enemies indirectly. Anyway, that was the story of the first break-up of the beautiful, wonderful Amaterasu Rei Utate. The old idol who was supposed to be dead! And yet still crying years after her death!"

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[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || every client is different, with different needs; but this client is, in every way, exceptional.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (cnc), dom/sub relationship, ‘mistress’ title, pain kink, cockwarming, orgasm denial/control, use of a cockring, slapping, objectification/degradation, some angst and hurt/comfort, crying after sex, touchstarved!bucky

new parts posted on thursdays!  join the taglist here

"And you can promise complete and total discretion?” the deep and husky voice on the other end of the line repeated, low enough that it was almost a whisper.

You laughed a little. “Of course,” you answered. Most clients were serious about privacy, but this guy was next level. He must be famous, you thought to yourself, or married. Or both.

But just as much as your clients wanted to keep you separate from their personal life, you would rather they know nothing about who you are. Of course it was always a risk, since nobody could hide their face and you had to work out of your apartment, but you did what you could to keep your job just that— a job.

You told your friends you were a consultant, because people didn’t question that. Sure, it was hard to keep up the lie sometimes when you got last-minute bookings and had to cancel plans, but it was worth it for the money these men were willing to pay.

And this new guy? He was shelling out all kinds of cash, on a long set of conditions. Including an NDA. You wouldn’t have given him up either way, but if the contract made him feel better (and made him pay more) then you were happy to sign it.

“So it’s all anonymous, then? No ID, no credit card…?” he pressed.

“I mean, if cash is easier for you—”

“It is.”

You were starting to worry that this was a major red flag, as if he didn’t want to be traceable back to you at all. It was almost a dealbreaker, until you glanced down at the legal pad you’d written his offer on and remembered that you couldn’t afford to turn him down. “Then cash is fine,” you decided, making a note to yourself to have 911 already dialed when he came by in case his aversion to ID was really about a desire to get away with something.

“When can we start?”

“Um, well the soonest I can do is tomorrow at seven” you explained.

"Great, I'll be there," he answered firmly, apparently about to hand up.

“Hey, hey, slow down!” you chuckled. “Can I at least get a name?”

“I didn’t think we needed to do names.”

“We don’t… but if you’re willing, I’d like to know something to call you.”

“James,” he answered after a tense pause. “James is fine.”

“Alright, James, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Upon opening the door, you instantly noticed three things about him: he was tall, he was big, and he was sexy.

You had sort of been hoping that his appearance wouldn’t match his voice, but it did, and it was going to make this so much harder.  Maybe easier in a few ways, but overall worse.  It was important that you didn’t get too emotionally invested with your clients.

His eyes were dragging over you like he was just as taken aback.  Which was odd, because he must have seen your picture online before he called you.  

“James,” you greeted. “Glad you made it.”

You stepped aside to let him enter, guiding him to take a seat in your living room.  Before clients came by, you hid any signs of life and kept the space as neutral as possible, which was why the only furniture was the white couch he sat on, the black chair across from it, and a glass table in between.

You sat in the black chair and crossed your legs, noticing with pride the way his eyes studied your every move.

“It’s important that we have a discussion about boundaries and limits before this goes any further," you explained sternly, and he nodded slightly.  "Tell me what you do and don't want."

“Uh, well, I guess I was just looking for… somebody who can administer, um, discipline… you know, someone who sets rules and enforces them.  But could also be kind of, uh, sweet I guess, to.  Not too sweet, just… not too mean either."

You smiled a little; he sounded right up your alley.  "I can do that."

"You should know I… I have a… disability.  My left arm it's, um, it's a prosthetic."

"How would you like me to accommodate that?"

"Just don't say anything about it, please.  Treat it like a normal arm.  And, uh, if you could ignore my scars, too…" he added awkwardly.

"Of course,” you nodded, “I would never want to make you feel insecure."

"Well, I mean, I'm not against degradation," he admitted sheepishly, making you smile a little.

"Right: that's different.  Anything else you're distinctly not against?"

“I can take a lot of pain,” he explained matter-of-factly.  “However much you think I can handle, double it.  I wanna feel it.”

You could almost hear the words he wasn’t saying: I wanna feel something.

“Okay, we can do that.  You’ve probably heard of the color system," you posited.

“I haven’t.”

"Oh."  That threw you off slightly… how new was he to this scene?  “Well, it’s traditionally green, yellow, red; like a stoplight.  Red means stop.  Yellow means proceed with caution.  Green means continue.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Too simple for me, in fact.  I have my own version: ‘red’ will make me stop what I’m doing, but only ‘black’ ends the scene entirely.  And then there’s ‘blue.’  That means you want more.”

He smirked a little; a strong show of emotion compared to his stoicism so far.  “I think I’ll use that one most.”

“Just don’t be afraid to use anything else, alright?  I’d never be disappointed in you for safewording, or even just needing a break.”

He nodded.  “Can we get to it then?”

“You’re rushing as always,” you laughed.  “I’m not charging you for this part.  We have plenty of time— don’t we?”

“Yes, but—” he sighed.  “You look really… I walked in and, I guess I’m just really looking forward to this.”

You almost would’ve smiled at the compliment but you thankfully suppressed it.  “And what is it that you’re looking forward to?  What do you want me to do to you?”

His jaw tightened as he looked away from you.  “Um, there’s a lot.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Ropes.  Strongest you have.  I can buy you stronger ones if you need them, for next time…”

He’s already thinking about next time?  He’s already thinking about buying me things?

“Alright, I can do ropes: wrists and ankles?  Or more than that?”

He seemed a bit confused by that question.  “Is there anywhere else?”

“Torso,” you enumerated, “neck—” you stopped because you saw his reaction to that, and it made you smile a bit.  “Okay, so maybe the neck is something to try.  Do you like being choked?”

“I… I don’t know…” he sighed.

“Have you ever been choked before?”

“Not… sexually...”

You felt your eyebrows rise, but didn’t want to press; a story for another time, perhaps.

“We’ll have to discuss silent safewords and signals so you can tap out, but if you’d be willing to try it—”

“Yes.”

You laughed.  “Eager, are we?”

He swallowed, and you wondered if you shouldn’t have let your ‘dom voice’ slip out in that moment… but he looked so good flustered like that.  He adjusted himself slightly in his chair and you hoped he was already hard.  And with that thought in mind, you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him further.

“Do you like being called certain things?” you asked, voice lower as you leaned forward.  “How do you feel about ‘pet’?” 

He almost kept up his poker face, but his gaze faltered at the same time he moved in his chair again.  “Um, ‘pet’ is okay.”

“Baby boy?”

“Not really my speed,” he shrugged.

You slipped out of your chair and stood up, approaching him slowly as the click of your heels echoed across the tile.  He watched you with wide eyes and quickening breaths.

“What do you like?  Tell me,” you demanded, though you kept your tone light.

“Uh,” he paused, watching your hand as it rested on his leg, “I like… I like being called a good boy.”

You grinned as you pulled your hand away, watching him tense up with disappointment.  “I can do that,” you agreed, lifting his chin with a finger until he looked at you with those beautiful, desperate eyes, “if you actually are being a good boy for me.” “I will,” he promised quickly, “I’ll be so good.”

“Mmm, I bet you will,” you purred.  “So willing to please…”

“Tell me how,” he sighed as your hand trailed from his chin down to his chest, slipping under the loose collar of his henley and rubbing his chest.  “Tell me how to please you.”

“Well, for starters, I have a name, too: Mistress.”

He sighed like the wind had been knocked out of him, but nodded.

“And if I ask you a question, I expect you to answer ‘Yes, Mistress’ or ‘No, Mistress’.  Is that clear?”

“Uh-huh,” he agreed before suddenly correcting himself, “um, yes, Mistress.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” you frowned, “but further infractions will be punished.”

“Yes, Mistress; I’m sorry, Mistress,” he moaned, melting under your touch as your hand moved down to rub his thigh through his jeans.

“Now, just for fun,” you smiled, leaning down until your lips were nearly brushing his ear, “tell me what you want.”

“Please touch me, Mistress,” he sighed.

“But I am touching you.”

“Touch my… touch my cock," he clarified, adorably embarrassed. "It’s so hard for you…”

“We’ll get to that eventually.  Let’s go to the bedroom first, okay?”

However good he looked standing in your doorway half an hour ago, it was nothing compared to how he looked naked and hard and tied to your bed.

Yes, the prosthetic and the scars that attached it to his body were hard to ignore.  He had failed to warn you that it was metal, so you couldn’t hide the slight shift of your face when it caught the light; you hoped he didn’t think it was a look of judgment or disgust, because you truly didn’t think it was anything upsetting.  Maybe the scars were a little worrying… but they didn’t seem to bother him now, at least physically.

But truly, if anything was distracting about his body, it wasn’t the arm.  It was his muscles— no wait, it had to be his cock, right?  It’s tough to call: on one hand, his entire body was toned and hardened beyond the peak of human conditioning, his thick thighs making your mouth water already, his chiseled abs almost making you jealous; but on the other hand, between those lovely thighs and curving up against those perfect abs was a cock that rivalled anything you'd ever seen before, with a blue vein running up one side and a drip of precum rolling down the other.

You finally sauntered up to the bed and ran your fingers over the taught ropes, pretending to ignore him watching you impatiently.  It was almost hotter knowing that he could pull out of the ropes if he really wanted to.  More than most, he was choosing to submit to them and to you.

“How’s this knot feel?  Too tight?” you hummed, tugging the rope just beside his wrist and watching his hand move limply with it.

“No, it’s good.”

You stepped back to the foot of the bed and stripped slowly, peeling off your black dress to reveal a matching lace set underneath.  You left your heels on as you stepped out of the dress and kicked it aside.

Turning back to face him, James looked like he was all but drooling.  You could see in his eyes how much he wished the ropes weren’t holding him back so he could run his hands all over your body.

But you could tell he craved being denied what he wanted, by the way his cock flexed of its own volition.

You let yourself smile as you crawled your way up the bed and over his body, like a panther stalking its prey, and boy did he look ready to be devoured.

"Are you scared?" you asked quietly.  He shook his head.  "Are you ready?"

He nodded.  You sat up as you straddled him, positioned just right such that no part of you was really touching him, and watched with delight as he tugged against the ropes slightly to try to get closer.

"So needy," you grinned, somewhere between praising and scolding him.  Your fingers ghosted over his chest and he shivered; he asked you to treat his prosthetic like a normal arm, so you dragged your nails down the metal and watched his eyes flutter shut.  When you pulled your hand back and left him untouched again, he whined slightly.

“Aw, poor thing,” you pouted as you examined him, desperation emanating off of him in an invisible aura.  “Your cock is all red and leaking… it must hurt, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he groaned.

“What if I touch it a little?” you offered.

“Please…”

You traced your fingers lightly up and down his length, tickling the skin and giving him the least pressure that you could.  He whimpered and you chuckled mockingly.  “I said I’d touch it a little, sweet boy, are you not satisfied?”

He bucked up into your touch as best he could, causing you to pull your hand away.  “Baby, please—” 

You cut him off with a slap to the face, as hard as you could muster.

“Mistress!” he corrected with a whine.  “Mistress, please… please wrap your hand around it.”

“Around what?” 

“Around… my cock.  Stroke me, please…”

“All you had to do was ask,” you grinned, finally tightening your hand around him and moving slowly up and down the shaft.  His head fell back with a soft moan, just from that.  Your teasing had certainly helped get him this worked up, but you knew it wasn't just that… he was plenty sensitive all on his own, apparently.

It made your mouth water.

"Does this feel good, James?" you asked huskily.

"S-so good," he whimpered, "please can you… stroke it a little faster, please, Mistress…"

"Hmm, not yet," you decided, feeling him tense up beneath you.  "Relax," you instructed with a free hand rubbing his thigh gently.  

You continued to teasingly stroke his length, never quite giving him the pressure or speed he needed to get closer to his release, savoring every whimper and whine and sigh from him along with the satisfying weight of his cock against your palm.

It felt like you'd never get tired of wielding so much power in your hand.

"Please," he sighed, "I need more…"

"You want me to stroke you faster?" you pressed, already knowing that wasn't what he meant.  He shook his head and you grinned, leaning in closer but letting go of his cock. 

Slowly, you let the lace covering your core rub up against his shaft, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.  "Ohhhhh," he moaned, "oh fuck, Mistress…"

You grinned and kept rocking against him, easily feeling the warmth of him through your panties— meaning he, in turn, could feel the warmth of you.  "How does it feel, baby?" 

"Good," he choked out, "really, really good… fuck, I want more, I need more, please…"

"Are you my good boy, James?" you asked in a low purr.  He nodded eagerly, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nothing.  "Do you want to be inside me?" you finally whispered against his ear, letting a finger run lazily up his spine and feeling him shiver so hard it was more like he was convulsing.

"Please, Mistress, I'll do anything…"

You didn't touch all of your clients sexually, due in part to the fact that they usually wanted a lot more pain than pleasure.  You'd only had sex with one or two of them, and it wasn't a routine thing.  Before today you never would've imagined doing this with a first-time client, but to be completely honest… he was fucking hot.  The kind of guy you'd be spreading your legs for instantly if you weren't at work and he wanted to buy you a drink or grab lunch.  And he was here, at your disposal, begging you for more.  How could you say no?  

You pulled your panties aside and gripped his cock tightly to guide it to your entrance, studying his face twisted in anticipation before sinking down and watching him gasp and sigh all at once, somehow.

It took a lot of effort to hide your own pleasure when he was stretching you out so perfectly, but you managed to suppress the desire to moan and just smile at his fucked-out expression instead.

Finally, your hips met with his and you got to sit there and enjoy the look of dawning agony as he realized you were staying completely still.

“Move, please,” he sobbed, “oh god, Mistress, please move…”

“But I thought you wanted to be inside me?  Isn’t this what you asked for?”

He whined and tried to wiggle his hips; all that got him was two hard slaps to the face.  

“No whining,” you instructed through your teeth.  “Good boys don’t whine.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “‘m your good boy, I promise.”

“I know you are,” you grinned, “or at least, I know you can be.  Show me how good and patient you are.”

Reaching to the side a bit without getting off of him, you pulled a vibrator from your drawer.  His eyes went a little wide when he saw it, and you laughed.

"Don't worry, this isn't for you.  It's for me," you explained as you turned it on, inserting it between your body and his to touch the toy against your clit.  He winced as you sighed contentedly.  "Fuck, it feels good.  Can you feel it on your cock?"

"A… a little…" he hissed.

"I bet it feels good for you too," you posited, "but not good enough to make you come."

After a little pause, he nodded breathlessly.

"Good," you smiled.  "I just wanna come with your cock inside me.  I wanna know how it feels to get off with my favorite toy while being full of my newest toy."

"Fuck," he groaned.

"Do you like that, pretty boy?  Do you like me using your cock, being your Mistress' dumb little fucktoy?"

"Yes," he sobbed, hips shifting ever so slightly beneath you as he sought more stimulation from your flexing walls.  Shifting the vibe to hit right on your clit, you cried out— and he did too, at the feeling of you tightening around him.

"God, you love being Mistress' dildo, don't you?"

He nodded, biting hard on his lip until you worried he'd hurt himself.  He moaned again as another jolt of pleasure forced your channel to clench on his cock.

"You're making too much noise for a fucktoy, you need to be quiet."

He opened his mouth for a second, but closed it again and nodded instead.  

"You can do it yourself right?" you pressed, seeing him nod.  "You don't need me to gag that pretty mouth?" 

He whined but shook his head, keeping his lips pressed together.

That went on for a few more moments as you teased yourself with the vibe, hoping to draw this out for the sake of his struggle.  Wanting to up the ante, you took the vibe off your clit and turned it off for a moment.  "I think this would feel better with a little lube… will you get it wet for me, James?"

You brought the toy to his lips and he eagerly wrapped them around it, sucking lightly on the silicone with those pretty lashes resting on his cheeks.

"There you go, that's a good boy," you praised, pulling the toy from his mouth, "that's my good boy…"

"Yours…" he repeated weakly, "wanna be good for you, just for you…"

This time when you turned it on and pressed it to your clit again, you instantly gasped and felt your walls bare down on him; turning up the vibration, you actually moaned aloud and saw him wince.  "Oh, can you feel it now?" you asked tauntingly.  He bit his lip and nodded.

It really wasn't even intentional but you felt your hips start to rock, making him gasp as his eyes shot open.  For a guy who had been begging you to move not too long ago, he looked pretty overwhelmed by it now.

"Fuck, I'm gonna make myself come on your cock… do you wanna feel me come, baby?"

He seemed conflicted, which was exactly what you were going for.  You wanted him to struggle, just enough, between his need to satisfy himself and his desire to please you.  "I… I want to make you come, Mistress," he finally choked out, notably answering a slightly different question than the one you'd asked.  

You smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear: "Are you afraid that if you feel me come around you, you won't be able to hold back?  That you might accidentally come inside me?"

He made a needy little groan and nodded.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm gonna help you," you promised sweetly, but of course as soon as he saw you grab a cockring from your drawer he changed his tune.

"N-no, Mistress, please," he begged with wide eyes, "I'll be good, just not that— don't put that on me."

You smirked and sat up, pulling off of him and slowly slipping the ring on his throbbing length as he quietly pleaded for mercy.  He winced when you pushed it down to the base of him, his cheeks burning hot red now.

"Is it a little too tight, baby?" you cooed, grinning when he nodded.  "Good."

You sank back down into him and let your hips grind on his, working your clit with the vibe and even kicking it up to the next highest setting.  He jolted beneath you, clearly feeling the vibrations strongly now, and you let the view of his beautifully broken facial expression egg on your own climax.

"Mm, I'm close, baby," you whispered, "just stay still and let Mistress use you like a good little boy."

He made a small noise through his teeth but seemed to manage okay, even when your walls began to pulse rhythmically around him and your head fell back, your free hand palming at your breast through the lace bra just to add that last little edge of sensation.

"Oh fuck, fuck," you moaned, "that's my good boy…"

You shakily pulled the vibe away and turned it off, still a little numb on your clit but feeling your channel still rippling slightly with aftershocks; he seemed to feel them in spite of their subtlety, if the panting breaths that filled his muscular chest rapidly were any indication.

As slow as you could manage, you pulled your body off of him and sat back on his legs to stare at his cock.  The remnants of your orgasm left plenty of lubrication to stroke it, focusing on the head which had turned almost purple now.

"M-Mistress," he groaned, writhing under your touch.

Amazingly, his cock was already flexing in your hand, and a growl of pride and hunger echoed in your chest.

“Oh fuck, can you come for me, James?” you moaned, pumping him so fast your hand was a blur.  “Can you be my good boy and come right through the cockring?”

“Yes,” he sobbed, “gonna come, Mistress, please—”

“Come right now,” you demanded, watching his face instantly fall slack as he spurted out onto his own chest and stomach, cock flexing and pulsing in your hands as his legs quivered and his hips thrusted wildly.

And the tears were flowing soon after.  You weren’t sure if it was sub drop or just the power of his release, but between weak sobs he whispered broken apologies.

“You did so good,” you cooed as you slipped off the ring and wrapped your arms around him, subtly trying to reach over to untie the ropes.  But you didn’t need to; he flexed his arms and the restraints popped like floss.  He embraced you in return as you let his head fall onto your chest.  “You’re so good, it’s okay,” you continued, stroking his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, breathing quickly and wetting you with his tears.

This, you realized, is what he had made you sign the contract to protect.  It wasn’t that he was excessively embarrassed about his sexual proclivities, but that this was his space to be soft, and weak, and broken.  Apparently he wasn’t ready for anyone else to know that he wasn’t steel all the way down.

“Shh, it’s okay… you’re okay…” you breathed, indulging him in this moment even though it was more intimate than you preferred to get with customers.  Aftercare was an important part of your job, certainly, but so was enforcing boundaries.

He began to soothe as you kissed his forehead gently, whispering well-deserved affirmations and praise.  As his breathing slowed and moved back to normal, he pulled back and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated one more time, but not as wavering as before, “I didn’t think I would… that was unexpected.”

“No, it’s somewhat normal,” you exaggerated slightly, “this kind of thing… it’s taxing, I pushed you to your limits.  You were really tough, and it’s all very vulnerable.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, sniffling and wiping his eyes.  “And sorry about your ropes,” he smiled as he noticed the frayed ends coming off of where his wrists were still tied.

“Let me help you get those off,” you smiled, loosening the knots and sliding the binds off of him, quickly massaging the places that the rope had constricted.  “Blood flow’s okay?”

“Yep,” he nodded.

“You numb anywhere?” you pressed.

“Uh, just my dick.  And my brain is all fuzzy…” 

You smiled.  “Can’t help the first one.  Let me get you some water for the second.”

“No!” he yelped suddenly.  “Um, don’t go yet, please…”

“Of course,” you smiled.  “I’ll untie your ankles, then.”

He still seemed disappointed, as if he expected you to hug him for hours and never move.  He let you go this time, though, and loosened his grip so you could slide down to the foot of the bed.  

"Was that sort of what you were hoping for when you called me?" you asked as you untied the ropes slowly and took a moment to massage the skin underneath, hoping to restore any lost blood flow.

"So much better than what I was hoping for," he admitted with a breathless chuckle.  "You're… really good."

"Well, thank you," you shrugged, "it comes with practice and experience.  You held your own, too."

"I wish I could say that was from practice and experience.  I didn't want to say anything before but I've, uh, never actually… been to a domme before."

You smiled slightly, coming back up and being pulled into another embrace.  "Um, I'll admit I can kind of tell…" you mumbled.

"I'm not supposed to touch you like this," he realized quietly, relaxing his grip on you and pulling back.  "I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright, just don't get too comfortable because we only have—" you glanced at the clock— "eight more minutes until you need to leave."

"I'll get up and get dressed soon," he offered with a sigh as you got up and quickly slipped on a robe, grabbing him a damp washcloth for the drying come on his torso.

You tilted your head as you watched him clean up, and you wanted to offer some touch that was a bit less intimate than a hug, so you found yourself blurting out: "do you like having your hair played with?"

"Um, I don't… I don't know," he admitted as he reached up to card his fingers through the hair in question.  "No one else has ever really touched my hair before."

"Really?" you laughed, getting back on the bed to sit beside him.  "It looks pretty luscious.  I figured any girlfriend of yours would want to get her hands on it."

"Oh, well, the last time I had a girlfriend… it wasn't long then," he explained, and you kept on your best poker face.  His hair looked like he'd been growing it out for at least two years, unless it grew crazy fast or something.  How long had he been single?  With a body like that you could barely believe that he was single now.

"Do you mind if I touch it?" you offered quietly, and once he gave you a nod you reached forward and combed your fingers through it, reaching deeper to scratch at his scalp, occasionally pulling the strands lightly into loose braid-like patterns that fell away almost immediately afterwards.  He sank into your touch until you found yourself supporting his head against your chest, mindlessly playing with his hair until you noticed his eyes were shut, his breathing was slowed, and his body was limp on top of yours.

He fell asleep.

You laughed silently to yourself, realizing that you couldn't get him off of you without his cooperation since he was so heavy and you had no shot at lifting him.  And, of course, his cooperation required his consciousness… which required waking him up.

And, for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.  He just looked too peaceful, for a guy who had never seemed truly relaxed around you.

Was there any other way he could relax?  Cause it kinda seemed like he really, really needed this.  And you were in the business of meeting needs, to say the least.

So, with an apologetic text to your last client of the night that you needed to reschedule, you let James sleep on you as you closed your eyes and drifted off as well.

[sunatooru]

hi hello can i request a scenario/drabble for tsukishima, kuroo, oikawa, and akaashi with a fem!so who fainted during their heated argument? their argument would be about s/o being clingy and needy, and always talking and being noisy; turns out the reason she fainted was because of the fever she had early in the morning but didn't tell them about it in order not to be a 'bother' or 'nuisance'... then her fever got really worse during the argument and faints. *cue their boyfriends feeling like shit for all the rude things they said*

i am in need of some angst🪆

Sorry it took so long (I’ve had this since March 😭) but I hope it fills your angst need x

~

Warning: angst/comfort, gn!Reader, post Timeskip spoilers …are they dramatic?Yes

~

Tsukishima

It was rare you got to spend time with your boyfriend. Especially as he juggled working and playing volleyball. You wouldn’t miss the chance to be with him for a whole day, even if you woke up feeling like your head was being hammered.

You stayed wrapped around his arm, happily joining him on the sofa. You move to wrap your arms around his torso but he pushes your attempt away. You blink at him in confusion and try again, but fail when he stops you once more.

“Keiii, I want to cuddle..” you pout and he scoffs.

“What’s wrong with you? I finally get a day to relax and instead, I have you clinging to me and being annoying.” He glares at you, making you pull back and your throat tighten.

“I-“ you get cut off

“You what? You’re always trying to push yourself on me. It’s suffocating!” He gets up and walks towards the bedroom, you hot on his heels.

“Kei, can you please be a little quieter? All I want is to spend some time with you…you’re always so busy…” you defend but he kisses his teeth.

“Exactly. I’m always busy, so can you just let me chill out? I don’t need you whining in my ear and having you on me all the time! God, it’s like you need to annoy me!” He shouts at you.

You swallow harshly. Your chest feeling tight as his words ring in your ear. Your head pounding as you feel yourself heat up.

“Kei…I-I don’t…” you try to reach for him but he moves.

“Did you not just hear what I s- hey..hey!” You feel yourself lean forward as your eyes close.

You wake up when you feel something cool on your forehead, opening your eyes slowly to see Kei next to you.

“Kei…”

“Are you okay? You just fainted out of nowhere…why…and I said all those thing-“ you grab his hand.

“I wasn’t feeling well in the morning…I tried to push it away to spend time with you…” he looks at you guiltily, sighing and cupping your hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said. You’re not suffocating…everyday I come home, I can’t wait to see you. I don’t know why I said that…I’ve just been so overwhelmed and I took it out on you. I’m sorry baby. ” He confesses.

“I love you so much…I don’t even deserve you.” He whispers, biting his tongue as he looks at you.

“Hmm, I love you too…it’s okay. Can you just hold me, please.” You give him a small smile and he wraps you around him.

Kuroo

It’s that time of year where deadlines need to be met. You watch him scribble on papers and pull at his hair. You could see how tense he was and decided to bring him something hot to sip on.

“Tetsu, you need a break.” You slowly make your way into the room, carrying a hot mug and small snack.

“Can’t. Got to finish finalising the contract.” He informs, crossing out lines and writing again.

You huff and approach him, struggling to find a place to set the tray due to his messy desk.

“Come on. You need to atleast drink something, you’ve been at it for hours now. “ you press, causing him to clench his jaw.

He slams his pen against the desk, startling you before he faces you.

“I just said I need to finish this contract. Of course I’ve been working on it for hours. It’s important. You’ve been coming in and out of the room and disturbing me! I’m busy trying to do my job and you can’t even leave me alone for a few hours? Stop being so clingy all the time!” He fumes, eyes glaring at you as he starts to stand up.

You feel you mouth go dry as his words echo, your vision starting to fade as he finally stands, a rush taking over that you drop the tray. A loud smash of the mug rings in your ear.

“Are you serious- babe! What’s- babe!” Is the last thing you hear before your vision goes black.

You stir when you feel movement besides you. Slowly opening your eyes to see his leg bouncing nervously. He notices you looking and instantly grabs your hand.

“Have you not been eating? Were you waiting for me? Fuck! You fainted, I- what happened?” He rambles, eyes filled with regret.

“I felt a fever in the morning but I didn’t want to tell you because I knew how important your contract was.” You mumble, avoiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, babe. I was so stressed and occupied with the deal that I forgot about you and said so many regrettable things. Please, I didn’t mean anything I said. You’re not clingy. I love that you’re always watching over me. I promise, I’ll take more care. Of you and me.” He apologises, bring your hand up to kiss it.

“Here drink this.” He hands you a mug, your eyes widening as your remember the one you dropped.

“I cleaned it, don’t worry. I’m sorry. Let’s just get you feeling better, okay. The contract can wait. You’re more important.” You give him a small smile and nod.

He stays besides you until you persuade him you’re better. He kisses and hugs you until you’re both laughing like before.

Oikawa

You always told each other where you were going before leaving. It was something you did for safety. Yet, recently he’d been leaving before you wake up and coming home late. You reasoned it was probably for the upcoming game. The game that would makes his dream come true. But it did hurt that that one routine had started to break.

You had woken up to your head pounding. Your body feeling hotter than usual and the bed empty for another morning. You attempt to shake it off and go on with the day.

You’re surprised when the door open around midday and see Tooru drop his bag.

“Tooru! You’re home!” You run up to hug him but he stops you.

“Sorry, I’m just really sweaty right now.” He kisses your forehead and runs towards the bathroom.

You smile to yourself, quickly fixing lunch, in hopes you would both enjoy together. But instead, you hear him run down and reach for the door again.

“Tooru, where are you going?” You stop him, confusion on your face.

“Ah I just need to go out again. You know the game and practice.” He states grabbing his bag.

“But you just got home. Look, I made you lunch too. You can practice tomorrow. I barely see you recently! You don’t even tell when you’re leaving…” you shout.

“No! I need to go. I need to practice more. I can’t be with you all the time, every day. You’re so needy. Can’t you see how important this is for me? What? I can’t even leave my own house without telling you?” He yells in frustration.

“That’s not the problem. You- you’re not even caring about your health. I just want to make sure you’re okay!” You feel yourself burn up again.

You get closer to him, hands shivering as you feel weak.

“Listen I’m going to training! Don’t wait-“ he’s walking out the door but you reach for him, collapsing against his back.

You hear mumbling and groan as you open your eyes.

“Tooru…” you call out and he’s there in a heartbeat.

“Do you know how high your temperature was? You were burning up! And then you fainted and I-I didn’t know what happening and god if anything happened to you I would never forgive myself.” He cries, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m okay..” you whisper but he shakes his head.

“No you’re not. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” He says, hurt.

“I don’t want to me a nuisance…and you haven’t really been here so I tried to shake off in the morning.” You reply.

“Since morning… please forgive me, baby. Please. I know I’ve been neglecting you and if I was here then you wouldn’t be feeling like this. I’m sorry for what I said. I know i can’t take it back but I wish I could, because it’s not true. You’re not needy. I’m just an idiot who keeps forgetting to appreciate you. Baby, I’m sorry for hurting you.” He sniffles, sitting next to you and pulling you into him.

“Tooru, you’ll get sick too.” You stress but he holds you tighter.

“Just a few more minutes. I’ve missed you too. I promise I won’t leave you and take care of you. Forever.” He kisses you deeply.

Akaashi

The best way you decided to get rid of the fever you woke up with, was to distract yourself doing anything else. You organised yourself desk, bed and even laundry. You could feel yourself getting warmer again and decide to find your boyfriend.

He’s in his study carefully editing a new clients work. He’s usually calm and collected but he’s been on edge due to the pressure from his boss. You watch him take off his glasses and rub his tired eyes. You sigh and walk in.

“Hi darling!” You say cheerfully, only to get a less enthusiastic response.

“You’ve been stuck to the desk the whole day. Come on, talk to me a bit. Think of it as a little break.” You wrap your arms around him from behind.

“I’m almost done. We can talk after.” He whispers.

“Keijiii, I’m so bored please. Plus you need to take some rest. Let’s just talk about something, like I don’t know, where we should travel to? Or maybe anything interesting that happened at work? Come on, I want to spend time with -“ you’re cut off by his stern voice.

“Gosh, why are you so talkative? I’m trying to focus on something and you keep talking and being noisy after I said we can talk later. It’s like you’re trying to annoy me on purpose!” He scrunches his fists and huffs.

“I-I’m just trying to look out for you. You know you need a break too. Don’t yell at me! Sorry I’m so talkative and trying to engage with my boyfriend, who clearly thinks I’m annoying.” You choke out, feeling a little woozy as you start to leave.

“Love, wait! I didn’t mean it…”

“Whatever…I should’ve just stayed in bed-“ you feel your eyes getting heavy, and your knees feeling weak.

“Y/n!”

You wake up a few minutes later to him wiping your face softly. You try to get up but he stops you.

“Easy, let me help.” You can hear the guilt in his voice as he sets your pillow.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you. I let my frustrations take over and put it on you. I want you to know that, I didn’t mean what I said. I should’ve paid more attention and seen you weren’t feeling well.” He fidgets with his hands, scared to look at you.

“Your words hurt, Keiji. Even if you were frustrated, just please take some breaks. You’re going to burnout if you don’t.” You cup his hands and he finally looks up.

“I know. I know, I’ll do better and listen to you. How do you feel?” He presses his hands to both your foreheads.

“Better now that you’re here.”

[becomingbts]

Time heals (sometimes) - 1

Summary: 6 years ago, (Y/N) thought that she was finally taking her life into her hands, leaving behind a toxic and abusive relationship with a man who taught her she’d never be worthy of love. However, it became hard to ignore his words when she met her seven soulmates who rejected her without even giving her a chance to prove herself. It took (Y/N) 3 years to realize that it wouldn’t be her end. She would live on to prove them all wrong; she would become what they all thought she wasn’t: someone worthy of love. And as she stands proudly on the stage, under the  burning spotlights and the applause and  the cries of the delirious crowd, she feels alive. Alive, just like the bond she believed to be broken.

Pairings: Y/N x OT7

GENRE: Soulmate AU!, Idol Y/NAU!, semi social-media AU!, ANGST (mainly), fluff, romance, maybe smut in the series.

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Warnings:  The series is going to be heavy with a lot of personal experiences  mixed into the fiction, so this is going to be kind of therapeutic for me. Please, consider not reading the series if you are not comfortable with: abandonment issues, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, self-harm (not descriptive and only part of MC’s past), suicide thoughts (in the past), toxic behavior, toxic and abusive relationship (in the past), depreciating self-talk and low self-esteem, a lot of curse, physical and mental pain, near death experience situation (in the past), and maybe smut scenes (happy ending though, but it will probably be quite the ride).

NOTE: So hello everyone, welcome to Time Heals (sometimes). Thank you so, so much for the warm welcoming, it has been my first time getting so many asks, I was honestly overjoyed. I still don’t really know what to call this part; is it a teaser? A note? A full chapter? I believe we’ll get some snapshot of memories like this one throughout the series because there is going to be a lot to unpack on both sides. I think it will be a chapter nevertheless because I have to establish some kind of order as to which parts should be read first, and I think this one is extremely important.

Thank you for reading,

-Dolly

Profiles #2 - here - part 2

Her scream pierced through the air while cries broke in the frenzied arena while a single blond-haired man froze, emptily staring at the stage. It felt like his senses heightened; his skin was shuddering, his eyes were frantically searching for one specific figure while his voice was lost in his throat. The screams resonating in the stadium would have been too loud for his voice to be heard anyway. 

Jimin knew he shouldn’t be there. 

Namjoon had told them more than once that none of them should try to go to one of (Y/N)’s events. It could be dangerous and they could be overwhelmed; anything could happen to them and they would still remain a nobody who fainted in the howling crowd. Would they want to take this risk? No.

So, Jimin would have had to admit that going to her very first concert in Seoul since the pandemic sounded like a very, very, very bad idea. And to be honest, it still didn’t seem to be a bright idea now that he was actually there. 

But he still went because he needed to see her for himself; to see how she was. He had so many things he dreamed about asking her. Are you okay? Are you sleeping well? Did you eat before coming to the arena? Are you nervous? Do you... remember me? 

Maybe he was torturing himself. He kept on watching her lives, following her on all social media, always made sure to leave a sweet comment, and never miss any of her new updates... Maybe he even had a folder of pictures of her on his phone but he’d never admit it to any of his mates. Taehyung would probably take his phone away from him and delete everything and Jimin couldn’t let that happen.

He felt like it was cheating. Don’t take him wrong though. When he thought that, he was not really thinking about the boys. They did collectively agree not to follow her activities as an artist but it was getting harder and harder with how popular she got anyway. Moon was everywhere. In commercials, on the radio, her songs were on the TV… Even if she was known for refusing most of the promotional contracts that were offered to her, her image was still constantly in the media despite her avoidance of it. Ironic, but the media were trying their best to find anything about her, be it positive or negative. One day she was seen on her bike, the next, she was in a coffee shop, and it kept on going on, overstepping on her privacy as if it was just a meaningless word. 

The lockdown had admittedly played a major part in Jimin’s obsession. Being in their apartment meant quickly running out of activities, and his job as a dance teacher was not really filling his free time (a lot of his classes were also canceled). It was also during that time that (Y/N) truly blew up as an independent artist. Advertisement on YouTube started being around her channel and her music, the recommendations he kept on seeing were about also her… Jimin’s resolve honestly broke easily. It was hard not to be curious about his lost soulmate even though he didn’t feel like he had the right to be hurting. 

Anyway, to come back to his main point, if Jimin felt like he was cheating; it was mostly for her. After all, (Y/N) had no means of letting the curiosity get the best of her, to know what they were doing; to simply see or contact them. He had, at first, not really thought about that. Watching her content seemed a very innocent thing to do in his opinion; billions of people were watching her content, why should he prevent himself from doing so? Yet, Jimin could still remember one of her live she did soon after that interview she had given on this damned radio show where she had revealed who her title track ‘TIME’ was about… She had gone live the next day-Jimin had jumped on his phone because of the notification-and one fan had asked her what would she do if she knew that her ‘ex-soulmates’ (and those words left a very sour taste in Jimin’s mind) were watching her. The question had silenced a previously restless Jimin, replacing his initial excitation with dread while a lump formed itself in his throat. He had not even noticed it; he was so focused on her live and her upcoming answer that Jimin had completely missed the sound of a glass breaking in the apartment. Jimin had been home alone, so even if had indeed heard it, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to check what had happened, thinking that the wind knocked it over or something. Jimin had been so absorbed by what he had been watching that he even got surprised a few hours later when Seokjin came home and yelled at him for breaking something when he had been clearly innocent, engrossed in (Y/N)’s live (not that he could tell his soulmates about that part, but yeah). (Y/N)’s live would always be more important than some random glass breaking again in their apartment. Every object was doomed with Namjoon living here anyway.

On her side of the screen though, (Y/N) had seemed taken aback as she had read the question and had gritted her teeth gently. She had seemed to be pondering about her answer even though a lot of people in her chat were telling her to forget about the question if it made her uncomfortable (a lot were even scolding the person who asked). Yet, sighing softly, she had looked up at the screen: 

“I’d appreciate it if you could refrain from asking questions on this topic. It’s not taboo but I’d rather not remember everything that comes with it. However, to answer this-hopefully-last question about it, I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. It would only be fair after all. I’ve been denied access to their lives six years ago, why would they get a free pass into mine now?” She had not smiled nor had she seemed hurt by her own comment, yet Jimin’s heart had shattered in pieces, unable to press the cancel button. 

Her voice had slowly faded into background noise while her words had been stuck in his head. 

I’d ask them to turn off my stream and to stop watching any of my content. 

How could Jimin ever do that? He realized that he truly should. Namjoon would even agree with you, as ironic as it sounded for Jimin. Namjoon had been one of the most adamant ones about rejecting your bond, after all. Jimin was shaking with bitterness while ‘Moon’ continued her stream peacefully with music. Jimin could only try to gulp his anger down as he remembered her crumbling features on that fateful day. 

“You’re not our soulmates. This name on our arms means nothing to us. You are nothing to us if not a hindrance. Leave us alone.” 

If Jimin could go back in time, he’d prevent Taehyung from spatting those words at her. Yet, he couldn’t do anything. Playing the scene over and over in his mind wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change that she probably hated them. It wouldn’t change the song she made about them. 

And worst of all, it wouldn’t change the fact that Jimin had let himself believe that their choice had been for the best, trying to console and reassure himself, even if he had already known that it was wrong. Tears were pooling up in his eyes even if none escaped as he finally caught a glimpse of her on the stage. Suddenly brought back to reality after his subconscious memory trip, Jimin finally connected back to the world, looking around while he was still frozen on his spot. People were still screaming around him and he wondered if he looked like an intruder. Because, after all, wasn’t that what he exactly was? She said it herself that she didn’t wish for them to watch her; so what was he doing here? 

Jimin couldn’t help but stare; she looked ethereal, dressed like a queen in the middle of a sold-out arena. People were screaming her name as she yelled her infamous ‘hi people’. It was an opening sentence that Jimin heard way too many times in her vlogs and suddenly hearing it in real life seemed surreal. 

Jimin could only watch in awe, entranced with her everything. 

Screw the boys and what they would think once he’d be back from her concert. 

He had been the one to find her six years ago anyway. He had been the one to bring her to their home six years ago, hoping for the boys to change their mind once they’d meet her.

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Uploaded : 09/04/2021

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[myelocin]

Postcards From: Kanazawa | Tsukishima Kei

Synopsis: The fear that comes with love is the realization that it isn't always just light. Love, rediscovered as both the fear and the drive that depicts the push and pull of whether it's worth it to say "I do," if the unknown is what's to come beyond the vow. In which it's a week until the wedding, and the both of you return to Kanazawa--to day one--as strangers.

Characters: Tsukishima Kei

Genre/Tags: Engagement!AU, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending | WC: 10,200+

A/N: this is a piece commed by @tsukishumai​ ;w; tq for trusting me w u and ur bb boi ily to the moon n back

playlist

commissions | ko-fi

The illusion of the soul is the false belief that love must always—always—be just light.

The truth is, it’s not. Love is many things. Primarily, love begins from desire. Then, that desire seeps into a drive that pushes you to keep wanting. Then finally, when it’s seeped in through the skin deep enough, love pools in the soul.

Love is bound to be raw at the very core. A desire. To say, “I want you,” and think it holds as much credibility as “I love you.”  To look at what you know is only the tendrils of something at the very most, and trick yourself into thinking that it’s enough. A beating heart—bloody red. The line just barely hanging in-between what’s selfish and selfless, before it ultimately sways and becomes selfish sometimes.

Sometimes, being right now, Tsukishima thinks.  

Sandwiched in-between you to the left, and Yamaguchi to his right, he finds his eyes flickering towards the clock a lot more often than he would have liked. Akaashi, who sat across from his seat on the table, was the first to catch on.  

He quirked a brow, presumably in question earlier, and mouthed the question if he was in a rush. Tsukishima’s never been known for having too many words, but because Akaashi pauses and insists to relieve his question with an answer, he shrugs, waving him off and mouthing back that he’s alright.  

“So,” Bokuto starts, his voice already slipping into somewhat of a slur. “How’s it feel to be the first to pop the question?”

You laugh, finding amusement in the man’s enthusiasm. Turning to Tsukishima, you sit and wait, expectant of a reaction.  

In response, he just shrugs, but a smile breaks through and redefines the nonchalance of his expression anyway. Raising the glass to his lips, he takes a quick sip before answering smugly, “It’s nice to finally settle down. You should try it sometimes.”

Bokuto waves him off, cheeks flushed and eyes already drooping from the inebriation. “Nah,” he slurs, shaking his head. The exaggeration warrants a quick laugh from Sugawara, who sits on the other side, nursing his own drink. Continuing, Bokuto huffs and takes a slight pause before he connects the last of what he says with, “—getting married is nice and all, but I don’t know, man,” he laughs. “Just feels like I’ll end up hitting a fucking blank space after I do or whatever. Not my vibe.”

Visibly, Tsukishima shifts a little, the smile on his face maintained but the lighthearted energy that earlier fueled it just slightly more drained now.  

From the corner of your eye, you notice it. Though, Akaashi’s the one who gives him a pointed stare, to which the former simply ignores.  

“But—“ Bokuto continues, as if trying to remedy the cracked part of the atmosphere that isn’t even visible in the first place—“If that’s your thing, then I’m obviously not going to judge you for that.”

Tsukishima responds by his silence. Bokuto, with his head still warped around the heavy state of his inebriation, doesn’t do so much other than sip a little more of his barely filled glass of beer, Tsukishima’s apathetic expression just a blur in his eyes now.  

“You seem happy, though,” Bokuto notes, then raises his glass towards you.

Blinking at being the sudden subject of his interest, you raise your own glass of water. The ice inside shifts, clinking against the sides of the glass, and slowly, Tsukishima watches. There’s familiarity in the way it moves down: trickling slow like the patience inside him that’s suddenly running by the clock. His palms just barely gripping the utensils, clammy. While his head, still whirs at Bokuto’s halfhearted words.  

It’s halfhearted, he reminds himself.

The thought of hitting a plateau after “I do,” in a way is terrifying.  

But he is happy, right?

The way his palms respond solely through tensing suddenly spikes the fear that maybe his ring will slip. So he looks at you, trying to find an anchor to keep the love he pushes to stay intertwined with his truth afloat as he responds, “Of course I am. I’m happy.”

You look back at him, eye to eye, though you find something waver just for a split second— wondering if there’s credibility in the saying that gold will always deliver truth.

-

The rest of the night flows easy.  

Almost naturally, he’s quick to wave off Bokuto’s invite for more drinks at the bar just down the street, tugging your interlaced hands towards the parking lot as soon as the group found its way to the exit.  

“You know he probably just wanted more company,” you laugh. Thirty minutes after making it back home, instead of jumping straight into the shower and getting ready for the night routine, you instead take out the suitcase and take your place, seated on the floor in the living room.  

“We needed to pack,” you hear him respond, his voice a little distant from the bedroom down the hall.  

You shrug. “Yeah, but we could have made time.”

“Sometimes we can’t just make things, if we don’t have any to make it with in the first place,” he sighs.

You chuckle. Perhaps it’s just one of those nights again. In the ten years you’ve known Tsukishima Kei, you found that he had a tendency to become a multitude of things.  

A stranger, at the start, because that’s where every connection begins. The neighbor who lived with his grandfather across the street from your childhood home. Kanazawa was a long way from Sendai, but before his parents had whisked him off to Miyagi some years later, he had been the friend that oftentimes spent his afternoons with you.  

Strawberry cake and tiny sips of boxed juice from the convenient store down the street, and not much conversation exchanged between the both of you. He’d tell you about the things on his grandfather’s old encyclopedia, and you’d listen with rapt attention, finding it nice how he seemed to carry a little bit of the stars the more his eyes gleamed. He just talked about dinosaurs, you remember. At ten, Tsukishima had always been a wonderer.  

Then he moved.  

From the friend who told you stories and shared his juice boxes with you under that tree, to the occasional email that would pop up on your phone, when you were in highschool and weaving your way in and out of pathways and dead-ends. Miyagi was a little like Kanazawa, he said. There was a lot of quiet in the two cities. His email would come once a week, then twice when you reckon he felt a little lonely.  

You’d reply with the same kind of enthusiasm as he had established, though you still couldn’t deny the fact that the notification with his name on it never failed to have you smiling—at least just a little bit. At fifteen, Tsukishima was far from a stranger, but he was also falling just a little short in making it to the halfway mark of being a friend too.  

The once-a-week emails were welcome, none the less. It stayed like that, until once a week turned into twice. Though most were just the customary how-are-yous and obligatory holiday greetings once the seasons came and went, one year it turned into emails about the little nothings.  

‘I had strawberry cake today,’ it once read. ‘The one we used to share tasted sweeter.’

‘I joined the volleyball team.’

‘Winter here is a little colder. I remember your puffy green jacket.’

‘I don’t know if you want to know…or if I should tell you...but our team won, and we’re going to nationals.’

Somehow, you were managed to be convinced by one of your friends that same week to travel with your own highschool’s volleyball team to assist in the preparation for nationals in Tokyo. It was just a coincidence, you used to reason. You were there, and so was he. There was a hundred other courts his team could have played at, and your priority was assisting your own team in what they needed.  

But still, you couldn’t help but wave back and cheer the loudest from your stands when he perfected the block and scored the winning point for the first set.

It was then, where you realized that perhaps Tsukishima Kei wouldn’t just be a stranger.  

Kanazawa to Miyagi, but somehow Tokyo became the in-between. Childhood friends to the sort-of friends from the other ends of the country sharing a few scattered memories in slices of strawberry shortcake and random dinosaur trivia from an old man’s outdated encyclopedia.  

He was the first to approach you after that match. A hand held out to shake, perhaps to commemorate the evident shift between strangers to friends—but it was nice.  

Because after that, friends turned into something more.  

Maybe Tokyo really was the middle ground. After you graduated and moved out of your respective cities, Tokyo became the third place of hello.  

Then things just slipped into place. He was here, and so were you. He had plans to stay, and you just signed the contract that bound you to the city for the next two and a half years. The apartment right down the hall from yours was recently vacated, and he was looking for a place to stay.  

His new work place, coincidentally enough, was just a stop away from the train station closest to your place.  

You had always doubted the presence of serendipity and everything that had to dictate with the celestial control of fate, but the ease that came with the relief of him signing the lease the very next week almost seemed to validate what had been just a farfetched something.  

From strangers, to friends, to lovers, then to this:

Ten years later, a ring on your finger, and an I do, bound to be said just a little over seven days from now.  

Tokyo was kind to the both of you. His mother’s close enough to visit on the weekends, while Kanazawa was just a shinkansen away from Tokyo station. A new apartment with enough space for two, plus maybe an extra, and a bakery right down the street with the best strawberry shortcake made fresh every day.  

The wedding’s just a week away. His grandfather, still living in Kanazawa was meant to travel with Akiteru to Tokyo last week, but because plans changed, the both of you were instead tasked with going there yourselves to travel with him. While Tsukishima hesitated, you didn’t. Yes was easy to say in a situation like this. Though your parents had moved to Tokyo some years ago, you were aware that his grandfather didn’t.  

The house across the street was still his, while the one you grew up in just now became a summer home your family would frequent to when Tokyo became too swarmed with tourists.  

You look at the half-filled contents of the suit case on the floor in front of you. The right side’s meant to hold your clothes, while the left was left bare for Tsukishima’s. You turn and look at him.  

“You can just grab the stuff you need me to bring for you and I’ll fold it in. We should probably catch the first train tomorrow if we wanna get there before sundown.”

What comes as a reply is only prolonged silence.  

You let what he started stay for a little, but because you had never been the type to be fond in gouging out answers from the blank spaces, you sigh, and break the impending silence before it could get a chance to even settle. “You’re quiet again, Kei.”

When he makes it to the living room, instead of coming back out with a stack of clothes, he stands by the wall with his hands in his pocket. His eyes shift from wall to wall, but skip over you.  

Knowing that you’ll just prompt another conversation again the more he keeps his silence, he sighs, swallowing the hesitation and clinging onto the bits of courage that floats by him in the moment. Grasping at the very tips of it, he forces the words out of his mouth. “Are you really coming with me?”

You raise a brow. “Back to Kanazawa? Of course. I’m from there too, you know. Plus I haven’t seen Grandpa in a while.”

He shifts his gaze to the side, thankful for the blur that came with forgetting to slip on his glasses. He’s always had a tendency to give in the moment he looks at you, so the vagueness in the blur was a welcome change. “It’s just for a week,” he mutters. “I think I’ll handle the trip just fine.”

“Plus,” he adds, the hike in the tone of his voice giving away his panic. “—I heard there was a problem with the florists? Maybe one of us needs to go in and fix it ourselves just in case.”  

In the ten years you’ve known him, you’ve always considered it a given that you’ve well perceived him by now. In front of you, he’s stammering. While Tsukishima has never been the face to poise and perfection—because at the end of the day he still is just a boy—you knew he only stammered when he was nervous.  

Perhaps trying to manipulate the situation through a wordless exchange was his way of doing so. In your head, you chuckle. Tsukishima Kei is many things, and is witty when it counts—but he could never be blunt when it came to the things he was unsure of.  

You try to gouge out his truth. Speaking straight to the point, you let him know that there’s no purpose in trying to skirt around. You turn to him, his sweater half folded on your lap. “You know I could have believed what you just said, but,” you pause, giving him a pointed look, “—you’re not even looking at me.”

“Is this about what Bokuto said earlier?”

The way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly, confirms your suspicions that that it is about that, before he can muster up the courage to even say it. “Tell me,” you initiate. You’ve never been afraid to speak what needs to be said. “What’s got you so afraid?”

Once more, he hopes for the silence to speak for him. And like before—it doesn’t. Silence was never meant to fill in the blanks. What it did, rather, is add three seconds more on the clock that’s ticking regardless. Tsukishima bets on a timed clock to speak for him, and because you’ve never been the type to shrink at the presence of raw truth, you huff and poke into what obviously hits for him just a little deeper.  

“You’re afraid we’ll hit a blank space after we get married, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t look away, but little by little, his body language starts slipping bits and pieces of the truth you’ve already long sensed. “I think I just need to think this through.”

“What?” you scoff. “You planned to go to Kanazawa by yourself for a week to what? Soul search? To decide if you even wanna marry me?”

“I’m sor—“

“That’s what you’re not supposed to say,” you interrupt him. “You don’t say you’re sorry for how you’re feeling, because you’re allowed to feel it how it is, but shit, Kei,” you exhale, pausing to suck in a quick breath. “You couldn’t have just said this earlier?”

He looks away again, the guilt evident on his features. “You’re mad.”

“Do you blame me?”

This time, he turns to you. “No,” he murmurs. “I don’t, but I’m gonna be blunt here—“

“—first time—“

He gives you a pointed look, but in the moment, you don’t really have much in you to care too much.  

“I think I need space to clear my head.”

“Sounds like you’re contemplating on whether you wanna stay with me or not,” you respond. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

Tsukishima’s steady, this time. “Of course I wanna stay with you.”

“But,” you counter. “You aren’t sure if you want to marry me.”

He looks away. “What if—we hit a plateau after.”

“That’s still not an excuse to back out before we even try, Kei,” comes your reasoning.  

“You’re right,” he sighs. “It’s not.”

Then it’s you, who shrugs this time, giving in a little and throwing him what you hope he doesn’t see as a lifeline. There’s no comfort found in knowing that an out is a means of mercy when it comes to love. Why should there even be an out?

You settle for just cracking the door open instead. Though it was never locked, the fact that it remained close must have been understood differently by him.

“Let’s go back to Kanazawa separately, then,” you propose. The open suitcase in front of you still has the right half filled with his half folded clothes, so you reach in, taking it out one by one. “You stay with your grandfather and I’ll stay at my parent’s house.”

Tsukishima raises a concern. “He’ll wonder why we aren’t staying together.”

In response, you shrug. “Just make something up then.”

“Is this just a passive aggressive way to say you’re mad at me?”

You scoff. “When have I ever been passive aggressive, Kei? I’ve said shit as it is since day one.”  

He flinches, maybe because of what you said or the tone of the deliverance, but either way, you decide you can’t give much of a shit. It’s a given that you’re angry, but because being hurt just paves the path to silence more than lashing out, it’s not much of a surprise that you probably look deflated in front of him.  

“What I’m saying is,” you explain. “Let’s go back to Kanazawa as strangers. Do what you gotta do, however you’ve gotta do it to get your head sorted out, and then we’ll talk. I’m not dancing around in circles with you on this. Either we get married next week, or we don’t.”

He panics. “I don’t want to lose you—“

“You’re already talking like you’ve decided that you won’t be at the other end of that aisle, Kei.”

Words feel lacking all of a sudden, so you pause. The absence of the split second brevity has Tsukishima standing still, his breath held, throat dry.

But like always, clarity seems to weave its way through the cracks in the room and find you first. “Yes or no isn’t easy to decide between,” you finally mutter. Eyes to the half folded sweaters you meant to tuck into the other half of the suitcase, you realize that you’ll need to switch to a smaller trolley now because you won’t be needing this much space anyway. “I don’t know what I should tell you, because I don’t know that we’d be having a possible fallout a week before the wedding. But at the same time—I don’t want to say you’re despicable for feeling like that, Kei. It just—“

“—fucking sucks,” you sigh.  

“If you feel like you need a week to figure whatever this shit is, then okay,” you nod. “Okay. Let’s be strangers for a week and by the time we’re back in Tokyo, you give me a yes or no and be fucking blunt with it.”

-

Later that night when you turn your back against him and face the wall, his whisper breaks through the quiet. “Why are you still patient with me about this? You could have just left me.”

You shift, laying on your back and sighing to the makeshift glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling of your room. “Because I love you,” you sigh. “Loving someone just means you have to exhaust every other option before even thinking of throwing in the towel.”

He sleeps that night, feeling heavy.

-

He woke up later that morning, feeling the same too.  

In a sense, things admittedly started weird. You woke up before he did this time, when he usually would be the one trying to be quiet when he slipped out of bed. Even though early mornings had never been a thing for the both of you, there was still something unpleasant in waking up to an empty bed.

The sheets on your side were done, and your phone that usually would be pinging with email notifications by now wasn’t there.  

It’s odd, he thinks. While he agreed to be strangers for a week, the walk to the train station was the same. Silence was normal, but the five extra inches that added to the distance between the both of you wasn’t. You nodded his way when he pointed at the shinkansen’s direction, and wordlessly would hand him his usual brew when you stopped at the coffee shop just before going in.  

Seated beside you in the train, he tries to ignore the urge to poke you on the side and make conversation. Words have always come easy when it came to moments with you, he noticed.

Tsukishima’s aware that he’s always been dubbed as the kind of person who never preferred to say too much, and while that was true—to an extent—he realizes that there is some truth to the saying that silence kills.  

You’re seated beside him on the train, eyes to your phone, and earbuds in place. He resorts to just staring at you through his peripherals, caught in between wanting to satiate the want to talk to you by breaking the silence, or keeping it as is.  

This is where fear grips him a little tighter. The deal was, as you had pointed out just last night, that the both of you would move through the week pretending to be strangers again. You’d stay on your side of the street, while he stayed in his.  

It’s a given that his grandfather’s bound to ask about you, and so in the event that it does happen, you would just spend a few hours with them and pretend like everything was fine.  

You made it clear that you’d try to exhaust all the options before resorting to that, though. And it’s easy, he thinks, doing so. It doesn’t take much to fake a phone call from work or a last minute meeting with an old friend that wouldn’t be able to make it to the city for the supposed wedding.  

The lines were drawn, and the outline of what was to be expected in the next week was made clear.  

He thinks of what you said before you slept. Love, as that one drive that has you exhausting all your options before even thinking of quitting. It’s fair, he thinks. You’ve always been the rational thinker in the relationship.  

But then again, he doesn’t doubt your hurt either. A week was lengthy, he realizes, and to act as strangers again just a week before the wedding was a different kind of test when it came to your patience.  

Still, he owes you truth.

You’ve always told him to lay things bare, and even though what’s bare is ugly, because love always pushes to try—he stays, doing just that.  

Undoubtedly, this is a jump. There’s no question in the fact that the possibility of reaching the peak and coming face to face with a plateau scares him. But still, his thoughts counter, to face a drop that doesn’t guarantee a landing somehow terrifies him even more.

The sound of your phone vibrating snaps him out of his thoughts. Before you answer it, he snags a look of the name written on the screen—Akiteru’s.  

Tsukishima sighs, shooting you a cautious stare as you pick up the phone and turn to him.  

The tone of your voice is easy, though you look at him, unbothered. “Hey,” you answer. “Just got in the train, so Kei should be calling you in about three hours when we’re there.”

In comes a pause, before you chuckle a little. Unconsciously, Tsukishima scooches in, curious. But before he could get a chance to lean in too close, you pull away a little, looking at him curiously, an eyebrow raised. “I meant to tell you,” he hears you say, and as you look at him, he chooses to hold your stare.

“Kei and I will be staying separately for the week.”

Beside you, he shifts, fighting the urge to turn away and face forward.  

Assuming that your flinch afterwards was only a response to what he’s only certain is Akiteru’s sudden outburst, the prior nervousness of his stare shifts into concern. Understanding the are-you-okay that he mouths, you wave him off. “We’re fine,” you laugh. “I just miss staying at the house that’s all, and I’m pretty sure Kei wants to spend quality time with his grandfather.”

You stay silent after that, which truth be told, doesn’t exactly help with his nerves.  

“He’s right next to me,” you add. “We’re fine, I swear. Just wanna enjoy Kanazawa in different ways that’s all.”

-

To put it bluntly, the first day is awkward.  

His grandfather’s waiting from outside the gate the second you make it to that familiar street. Nothing much has changed, the two of you notice. The gate’s rusted a little by the edges, and the door’s still got the same chip on the left side he always said he’d take a look at.  

“Heard they were cutting down that tree,” his grandfather says, when it’s a little over three hours later and you’re all seated at a local restaurant for dinner. His old friend owned the place, he explained. Low lights, home cooked meals, and a family run business you vaguely remember your father talking about when you were young.  

Tsukishima pauses, eyebrows rising in question. “What do you mean that tree?”

“The one you used to run off to,” he laughs.  

Elbowing him, you nod towards his grandfather before pointing out, “We met by that tree, you know.”

His grandfather’s quick to responding, laughing at Tsukishima’s perplexed expression. “Seems like your grandfather’s memory is doing better these days than you, boy.”

You suppose that at the end of the day, it shouldn’t have been a big deal that he forgot. You’ve never been one to dwell too deep within the symbolic little nothings that’s bound to come with life. Rationally speaking, maybe you’re just a little miffed because of what he said the night before. And maybe that’s the reason why you’re taking this a little harsher than you would have on a normal day.  

But strangers, you remember. Strangers wouldn’t care if the other forgot.  

So with that, you shrug. You take another spoonful of the food in front of you and shift your body just slightly to the left—to which Tsukishima took noticed—and leaned forward. Without even saying much, his grandfather already has his attention on you, the smile on his face kind.

He’s always been kind, you remember. With a smile, you choose to keep the peace in the room at bay, willing yourself to ignore Tsukishima’s stare boring holes into the side of your head from beside you.  

“Now that I think about it, I don’t remember a lot of people stop by that tree,” you comment, as you take a step into nostalgia.  

His grandfather shrugs, absentmindedly nodding his head as he mulls over your word through a spoonful of broth. “It was in the middle of a residential area. Bound to get taken down if you ask me. People nowadays need a place to park.”

This time, you really feel his stare beside you almost intensify. Truth is, you can make sense of what you know he only fears. The point in life was to brave through the unfamiliar to establish a consistency in familiar grounds. To continuously rise from day one, only to hit the peak and possibly come face to face with a plateau instead of something greater than even the height of all highs—you admit that it’s terrifying.  

The plateau, that perhaps works sort of like that tree.  

It’s been there, so here it still is.  

You’ve both been at that tree—at the start—so here you both still are. Side by side back in Kanazawa, sharing a meal like I do, isn’t hanging on the line.

His grandfather’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “You’re not wearing your ring.”

Tsukishima’s voice is quick to cut into the conversation, his voice smooth. “She just doesn’t wanna lose it.”  

You nod along to his lie, undecided with how to feel in regards to how smooth he seemed to have delivered his lie.  

“You know, now that I think about it, it’s good that they’re cutting down that tree.”

Tsukishima speaks his mind this time. “Last week, you said you were looking forward to coming back home so you could visit that tree again.”

You don’t look at him when you answer. “I know, but your grandfather has a point. When things change, what else can you do but get rid of it?”  

“Oh nothing’s changed,” he laughs across you. “Even before the two of you were born, people would always talk about how it’s just there when the space could have been used for parking.”

“Then why put off cutting it down this long?”

“Who knows,” he laughs. There’s an unfound wisdom in his eyes that read through your soul when he looks at you. “Maybe cutting down what people already see as a permanent fixture will do more harm than good in the long run.”

“Even if it doesn’t contribute anything?”

Tsukishima thinks of his fear, then of the plateau.  

Through the rim of the glass, he keeps a steady eye on his grandfather, breath held as the anticipation for his words begin to really settle.  

“People these days just see what’s the most obvious from the surface and consider it as the only fault then run with it. Maybe it’s not the tree,” he laughs. “Maybe it’s just the people. They want convenience so they cut off everything around them instead of adjusting to it.”

The food tastes bland in his mouth, suddenly.

“Goes to show how selfish people can get sometimes,” his grandfather finishes, as an afterthought. “A shame, really. That old tree’s done nothing but give people shade.”

-

At the end of the day, you really had to give his grandfather a lot more credit than what was due.  

The second and third day was awkward. Even though you tried to stay inside for most of your day, venturing outside and meeting up with old friends was inevitable. And really, you should have remembered that he often started his day with a couple laps walked around the block.  

On day two, he hinted that he could sense something was off. Tsukishima had been a lot more silent lately, he pointed out. First, as just a passing comment, then by the third time he’d bring it up and wouldn’t get too much of a response out of you, there came more emphasis to what he says.  

He passed by the tree every time you’d round the street too. It occurs to you that passing through it was a shortcut, and contradicted his prior statements to having a route that catered towards the long way home, but you chose to not comment much about it.  

The second day was curiosity, and you figured that you could live at least just a week with it.  

The third day, on the other hand, gave you a little more trouble than you had bargained for.  

You’re on your way home from an old friend’s house, and ironically enough, both Tsukishima and his grandfather are out by their front door, tending to the weeds of a garden that doesn’t even look remotely grown.  

Tsukishima’s the first to look at you.  

Stubborn, and frankly intent on upholding your end of the deal in staying strangers, you attempt to wave them off with a passing greeting as you look through your bag, feeling around for the keys to the gate.  

“You don’t have to think of an excuse,” you hear him say. “He’s back inside now. It’s just you and me here.”

It’s funny how ever since you’ve made it back to Kanazawa, he’s been the one to break the silence a lot more lately.  

You don’t turn. Strangers, you think. The deal was to pretend the other was a stranger.  

“Cam,” he calls out again, the desperation in his voice inching more and more out of its shell. “I’m really sorry.”

You turn around, the buried anger getting the best of you in the moment. “You know the more you say that, the more convinced I am that I should just give you back your ring right now and go back to Tokyo alone. You talk like the only thing you’re sure of is the fact that you won’t be marrying me next week, Kei.”

The moment you shift your gaze from the ground to his eyes, a part of you aches at the idea that you may have to bid farewell to gold. Swallowing down the mass of emotions you hope isn’t entirely just made of anger, you steady yourself and sigh.  

It hits you that it’s been a long day.  

“It’s just you and me here,” you repeat, slowly. There’s a flutter in your heart that tells you it’s still love that stares back when you look at him. “Then why do you feel so far away, Kei?”

-

He doesn’t sleep that night.  

Day three of being strangers, but he hasn’t had anything figured out. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but what only grew was the silence. The distance is really just a few feet away—across the street and through the leaves of that tree that your father would always say he’d get to.  

The light from your room is still turned on, though the curtains are drawn.

8PM and it’s early. 8PM, and on a usual day, you’d usually be seated beside him in your Tokyo apartment’s living room, mulling over the nothings that went on in your day.  

It’s nice to talk about the rest of the world as if all they’re meant to be is just a passing blur in the background, he thinks. He’s never been much for words, but you were.  

Then again, you had always been one for truth.  

Reality is, he knows he could always swallow his doubts, walk across the street, cover the distance, and apologize to you with an I’m sorry, that covers all that needs to be addressed in a standard apology. Life can be lived as easy as that. You swallow your own thoughts, adhere to what they say needs to be done in the way they tell you how to do so, and be done with it.  

But he knows you just as well as he knows himself.  

You’d call him a coward—and truth be told, he’ll think the same.  

Present wise—he does think he is a coward.

Tsukishima sighs, knowing that blinking at your closed curtain visible from his window won’t do much of a difference. Begrudgingly, he sits up, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table.  

The streets around the neighborhood are quiet this time of night. The perks about living away from the city was the silence, he thinks. As soon as he tugs on a sweater, he makes his way downstairs, carefully, so he doesn’t stir his grandfather he presumes is sleeping on the room across the hall.  

He exhales, relieved at the barely audible creak the door clicks to as soon as he shuts it and turns the lock from the outside. The keys, jingling in his pockets, is the only sound that rings in the quiet.  

It isn’t lonely, but it isn’t comfortable either.  

Kanazawa has always been a town he’s considered as a piece of constant that’s meant to drift inbetween.  

Neither like Tokyo or the towns by the outskirts of Okinawa, it stays as is. Twenty years ago, the crack on the sidewalk was there, and now, twenty years later, it remains.  

There’s comfort in recognizing constants, Tsukishima admits. The tree just down this road, the crack on the asphalt, and the fact that your room is still the second window to the left visible from his on the second floor.  

When he was younger, he remembers he often would stand under your window, caught in between wanting to knock on your door and ask permission from your parents if you could accompany him for the afternoon, or just wait around until you’d come down yourself.  

While he left a lot of things on chance, the conscious choice to stay rooted in the spot by your window remained constant.  

The gravel under his feet crackle everytime he’d take a step. The moon’s hazy behind the clouds tonight, he muses. While you’d wish for the stars, he found a temporary safety in the midnight clouds. A timelessness felt when it’s midnight, stays.  

Before he turns to the corner that would lead home, he stops midway—recognizing the tree from a good few meters away.  

There’s a sense of feeling an urgency to let something go, the more he stares at it. Nearing autumn, the colors start to change, and just like that, he’s reminded of the impermanence in life.  

As the earth eventually changes throughout the years, he fears that perhaps in love—it would too.

-

“You’re out late,” is the first thing Tsukishima hears as soon as he enters the room.  

From the genkan, he peers over the shelf, noticing the lights from the kitchen is what floods into the dim living room. Slipping on his house slippers and making his way around the corner, Tsukishima gets a feel of the warmth that’s radiating from the familiarity of the space.  

After his grandmother had passed, his grandfather stayed in Kanazawa. Though his mother often expressed her desire for him to move with the rest of the family in Tokyo, every time, he’d only wave them off and say that there’s too much rooted here for him to just up and leave.  

Walking into the kitchen, his grandfather’s the first to raise a mug his way and offer a smile. “I’d ask you if everything’s fine, but I think I’ll just wait around and see if you’re even willing to tell me.”

Tsukishima chuckles airily. “Sounds like you wanna ask anyway.”

He takes a slow sip. “Okay then,” he nods, smiling like he’s just struck a deal. “First question is—are you okay?”

In response, Tsukishima smiles, pulling the chair and taking the seat across his. He nods. “’Course I am.”

His grandfather’s eyes don’t leave him. “You’re not wearing the ring, and neither is Cam.”

Suddenly feeling like he’s caught in between a blocked exit and the spotlight, Tsukishima freezes, but wills himself not to look away. “Just needed some space, that’s all.”

“To think?”

He sighs. “To reconsider.”

“Ahh,” the older man sighs. “Cold feet. Pretty normal, if you ask me.”

He raises a brow in question. “It’s normal?”

“To be nervous, yeah,” his grandfather laughs. “But looks like it’s a different case for you.”

Tsukishima doesn’t respond, his eyes fixated towards a spot on the wall that feeds more into the blank space of his thoughts than anything more.  

“You’re afraid,” Tsukishima hears, and as soon as the retaliation he tries to string together at the very last minute don’t come—he realizes the core of all the chaos in his head is meant to be just like that—

Blank.

“What are you so afraid of, boy?”

In the silence, he lets the rawness of his truth slowly spill. “What if I hit a plateau after this?”  

His grandfather wastes no second in countering.  “How is it life if we just keep climbing? What’s the point in doing all that work if we never get rest?”

Tsukishima laughs. “You know, by that logic it can just go the other way around too.”

He settles in his seat, trying to appreciate the silence instead of looking for company in the noise, before he adds, “What if we decide we don’t love each other anymore?”  

“That’s not all there is to a plateau,” he laughs. “It’s a valid fear, but being afraid isn’t all there is after you marry someone.”

“Then what’s there?”

With a smile, his grandfather leans back, raises the mug to his lips, and relaxes—his eyes looking fondly at a faded photograph hung beside the wall clock. “Everyday,” he answers. “What’s there after I do is just everyday.”

Sensing that his grandfather means to say more, he chooses to retain his silence. Sighing softly, his grandfather keeps his smile steady as he continues to speak. “Everyday you wake up. You roll over in bed, you think about the checklist you do to consider a day done, then you come home, eat a meal, rest a little and start the whole day over the next day. Everyday’s like that.”

He shifts, leaning forward with his arms crossed supporting his weight on the table as he eyes his grandson with a smile. “Best part is, you can do all that with someone you love. Makes the boring part of the plateau a lot more bearable.”

“You wake up with them and complain about how boring the rest of your day will be, then come home and eat a meal with them. Wash the dishes, share the silence, and just go to bed knowing you’ll wake up with somebody.”

The smile on his face is honest, then he shrugs. “It’s nice, though. The plateau after you hit a certain point in life is just inevitable, Kei. You can either complain about life alone or complain about it with somebody. At least there will be two pairs of slippers by the genkan waiting for you everytime you come home. You’ll say you’ve made it home and someone will greet you. You’ll roll over in bed at 2am and someone will be there with you. The point of climbing in life is to get somewhere, not ascend past the norm.”

Tsukishima stays quiet, pondering over the truth in his grandfather’s words. “So life’s just meant to stay in the middle?” he asks, slowly coming into terms with his grandfather’s redefinition of the plateau.  “Life’s meant to find a consistency in everyday,” he corrects.

A few moments pass before he stands back up, pointing to the counter with a thermos. He knows it’s yours. The old one that your mother refused to throw away, because there’s a crack by the lid and a couple faded sailor moon stickers stuck by the side.  

“Look at that,” Tsukishima hears. He turns his head just in time to see the old man offer him a patient smile, the message in his eyes delivered without a hitch. “That old thing’s seen a couple of decades, but it still gets to you when you need it, right?”

It’s not so bad to have an old thing be your constant, right?

-

Twenty minutes after his grandfather climbs back to his room upstairs, Tsukishima’s seated on the side of the table beside the window. Peeking through the half-opened blinds, he can still see that the light from your room is still flicked on.  

Without mulling over the decision, he takes his phone out, scrolling through the contacts until he taps your name. A swipe without too much pressure, because even his thumb’s memorized where your name is by now. Kind of like muscle memory, he supposes.  

Bypassing the unannounced rules about what to do as the strangers you had claimed from the start of this week, it results to the lack of hesitation as he types a quick text and presses send without a thought that would counter it.  

I love you, it reads.  

From his spot in the kitchen, he leans back and smiles, pouring himself a cup of the tea he knows you brewed yourself on the nights where he can’t sleep.

The lights from your room stay on for a few more moments before it dims, but before the metaphoric silence could take root, the screen of his phone lights up.

Stop walking around at night. Drink the tea and try to get some sleep.

Exhaling almost in relief, it’s the slow beating of his heart that resettles him back into the love he’s known everyday.  

It’s not quite the end, but it isn’t exactly somewhere unpleasant either.

-

Two days before you’re meant to return to the city, instead of spending the day in your room—like you had initially planned—you somehow found yourself in the passenger seat of his grandfather’s old car, with a grocery list in hand.  

You sigh, understanding what his grandfather’s trying to do.  

As you look down, there’s nothing much written in the grocery list. He had complained about some back pain earlier, followed up by his insistent request of desperately needing his groceries done so when Akiteru was to arrive later on, dinner would be taken care of.

Beside you, with his hands on the wheel, Tsukishima sighs. “We could have just ordered in food for dinner. It’s just Akiteru coming,” he mumbles.  

Keeping your eyes to the window to your left, you shrug. “He likes making the ordinary special, I guess.”

Tsukishima stays silent after that, mentally thankful for the green light and the empty roads. The more stops, the longer silence would stay. And even after the sort of middle ground from the night before, he doesn’t know what to say to you.  

After making a quick turn, he pulls up into the parking lot and kills the engine. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he turns to you, with an expectant look. “You can just stay here if you don’t wanna go in with me,” he offers. “It’s a short list, I can be in and out in a bit.”

You wave him off, already slinging on your bag and opening the car door—the list on your hand. “It’s alright. I think I’m more familiar with this area than you are, so we can just meet back in the car in thirty minutes if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t need me to come with you?” he raises a brow.

You shake your head no, but upkeep the smile on your face anyway as you exit the car and close the door.  

-

Something about what you say sticks with him, the more he thinks about it.

He can distinguish the hesitation laced each of your decisions. You look past him, but not exactly at him. You speak to him, but keep the conversations short. Though conversation was rare between the both of you this past week, the times that you did speak to him, your words often were clipped short.  

It’s your means of upkeeping your end of the deal, he realizes.  

You’ve always been one for communication, but then again, patience can only stretch so much.  

He respects your wish for distance and walks the opposite way from the grocery store, towards a building he doesn’t really known. It’s a gallery, he realizes. Three steps past the entrance, he notices that he’s one of the few that’s in the room.  

Traditional artwork line the wall, hung in frames that have rusted throughout time.  

Tsukishima stares, eyes drawn to the pieces of art he recognizes from the few scattered memories in his childhood that relate to his time in the city.

A fieldtrip, when he was seven. He remembers leaving the house upset over the yellow hat he had to wear, and the rain boots his teacher wouldn’t let him change out of. Unlike the present, rain was present that day. He stood beside you in line, and had to tilt his head up at the piece of art he always thought was the prettiest out of the bunch.  

And now, almost two decades later, he still thinks the same.  

He smiles at the memory, finding the comfort of returning to what’s familiar, pleasant.  

As if caught by an epiphany, and suddenly enveloped in a sense of a rediscovered home, here, within a room that’s familiar, he finds purpose in the permanence of love.

Love, that’s never meant to be stretched into the likeness of what the poets declare as the absolute form of love after “I do.”

Staring at the piece of art with the rusting frames, the strokes within the canvas still depict the same story. It still is beautiful.  

It’s doesn’t become more—but it stays as is.

And maybe that’s what his grandfather was trying to convey.

To fear a certain phase in love is something that comes and goes, but it often never stays. It can linger, but eventually, it too, fades.  

What stays is what’s rooted.  

Primarily, just you. Truly, just love.

That tree in that old street, these paintings on the walls, and the kind of serenity that washes over him at the thought of you.  

The fear in life comes in the form of thinking that beyond the peak lays a plateau. Beyond “I do,” what’s next to come is love, dwindling until “I don’t love you anymore,” is the only thing left to be said.  

It’s fear, that spoke to him the past few weeks, so this time, as he gives in, he listens to love.  

It’s quiet.

But through the smoke in the room, the message that’s meant to deliver truth comes in full clarity. Illuminated, it appears before him as it is. A painting that’s struck him as beautiful then and now, and the thought of you as the face that’s always been the first to greet him every morning for more than just a few years now.  

An old man stands not too far from him, hands clasped behind his back as he stares—with a smile on his face—at a similar painting on the wall. Sensing Tsukishima’s presence, he looks over and redirects the smile his way. “Been coming here for years, and looking at this still feels the same.”

Poking at the doubts, Tsukishima responds, “Are you afraid that it won’t get old?”

The gentleman laughs, though soft enough so it doesn’t echo too much in the halls. The joy lingers around Tsukishima, on the other hand. “To have something grow old with you isn’t a bad thing. Day one, this piece was beautiful, and now, almost forty years later, I look at it and think the same too.”

A beat of silence passes, but the man speaks once more.  

“My wife, when she was alive, showed me this piece. Maybe I look at this and still find it beautiful after all these years because I think of her, but I don’t think trying to focus on that matters much. The feeling’s the same, even if it grew old.”

Reciprocating the older man’s goodbye with a nod to the head, it’s then where he laughs, a little bit more of the truth unraveling as each moment comes and goes. Thinking of his words, he dwells on its meaning.  

Standing there, alone in the museum hall, the smoke clears, and he presents himself his words of blended truth and patience.  

Love is timeless, his thoughts say. The plateau after the peak is as possible as the drop, but life’s meant to be lived in the lows and in betweens as much as the highs. Time moves in waves, and perhaps love doesn’t always grow stagnant. It can be timeless, even though the frames rust. His hair will grey, and maybe you’ll stop linking your pinky with him beneath the sheets during the rainy season’s thunderstorms, but the root of love stays.  

Within the plateau, time will move, and you’ll both grow old, but the taste of the tea you’ll brew for him will remain the same.  

And thirty minutes later, when he makes it back to the parking lot with you waiting by the door, the love that steadies his beating heart will be the same too.  

Steady, present, and timeless.  

-

Eyeing the dashboard, you’re the first to break the silence. “Why’d you buy a postcard?”

Rolling into a stoplight, he eases on the brakes and shrugs. “Lived here for so long, and I don’t even own a postcard from here.”

“Me neither,” you blink.

A couple minutes pass, and the car’s rolling again, but he misses a turn. Assuming that he’s just not used to the usual route, you stay quiet—until about he pulls up to a familiar street.  

Parked to the side, through the windshield, you find yourself face to face with a familiar tree. “Kei.” He hums.  

The coming autumn has a few leaves beginning to change its colors, you notice. The summer hues, unbalanced, as bits of red begins to bleed through the green. “You were supposed to turn there, not here.”

He shifts the gear into park, then takes his hands off the wheel, leaning back. “I know.”

It’s quiet after that, but it isn’t all that unpleasant either.  

This is the part where the questions begin to poke at you, the what-ifs in love let out in the open as you voice a little bit of your vulnerability. And because the truth is daunting, you hope he understands you through the metaphors. “Do you really think they’ll cut it down?”

He doesn’t allow the silence to take more than a moment. “I think so,” he nods his head.

“It’ll be good though, I think,” you add, nodding your head.  

It’s quiet in the room even though the words of your truth coaxes the unhealed wound to resurface. As it comes into light, it doesn’t sting.  

Sitting shoulder to shoulder beside him in the car, the tree that witnessed the first hello stays rooted, and watches.  

He doesn’t turn to you as he speaks, but in a way, you feel as if a farewell was the finale that was meant to be delivered somehow. “It’s good,” he starts. “Letting go of something that needs to be let go of.”

-

Tokyo

-

Tsukishima’s the first to speak.  

“I’m not good with words,” he starts.  

There’s a hush in the crowd, so you stay with it, knowing you’ll only add to the silence should you choose to respond. It wasn’t your turn anyway, so you will yourself to be still and listen.  

“Hey Cam,” Tsukishima continues, choosing to begin his vow with a hello. “I think a lot about what love’s supposed to have meant, mean, or eventually mean in the long run. I thought too much about it to the point where it…” he trails off, blinking at the piece of paper before flicking his eyes up to you with a slight shrug. “—to the point where love began to scare me.”

For a brief moment, he closes his eyes, confident in the fact that when he opens them, he knows he’ll see the world in clarity this time. With the smoke cleared and the scattered pieces of all his doubts set in order, the words of his truth may not speak of the most tender poem of love—but within the lines lies his truth.

As he lays his truth on you, he holds a breath and lets it all go. “I wanna wash the dishes with you for the rest of my life,” he laughs, exhaling softly, his shoulders shaking a little. “Never occurred to me how much of a liar the downside of your thoughts are when you listen to everything that isn’t love,” he continues.  

Your shoulders relax, and even through the blur of the veil, you can tell his eyes are steadily watering.  

“I’m sorry,” he says, the microphone just barely picking up what he says. You nod your head anyway, wishing you were holding his hands instead of the bouquet. Reassurance comes in many forms, but you know he’s always been the type to receive it well through physical touch.  

A kiss on the cheek, your head on his shoulder, or your hands squeezing his. But the smile you give him suffices for now, you think.  

“I wanna wash the dishes with you for the rest of my life. I’ll wash, and you dry. Nothing much happens in our day usually, but nothing has to. I’ll listen to you talk about how shit the traffic is in the city, because I know you’ll listen to me talk about the same complaints I have from Monday to Friday anyway.”

You realize he’s written his vows in the back of a postcard—the one you saw on his dashboard a few days ago, from Kanazawa.  

He sniffles a little then looks up, laughing to himself at how emotional he’s getting. Allowing more than just truth to trickle out slow is a part of love too, he realizes, so with a soft laugh, he lets the tears be and speaks again. “What needed to be let go of was let go of,” he exhales, like he’s been holding his breath for this long.  

In a sense, maybe he has. Sometimes fear grips you tightly enough that it shifts your point of view from one thing to another. What’s love, becomes fear. Then what’s fear, becomes the smoke that buries the core of truth too deep within the haze.  

“I let go of the thought the thought that after marriage, if nothing great would come then that would be the end of love,” he breathes. “I stared at that tree and thought of Grandpa’s words again and again then wrote my apology and I love you on the back of a postcard that only had one a couple of blank lines at most.”

He waves it for you, then to the crowd, to see. The words, jumbled up together look almost incomprehensible written so closely together, but in a way, you have a feeling that he’s just speaking the rest of his truth as it comes in the moment.  

The truth in love, you realize, is that its truth comes, fully unraveled the moment the initial plan falls apart.  

He puts down the postcard, and just looks at you.  

“There’s a lot I don’t think I will ever understand when it comes to love, but maybe I’m here to just feel it and not try to decipher it.” He pauses, ignores the few tears that roll down, and shrugs his shoulders, admitting to himself that the truth in his love is the first thought that comes.

“Love doesn’t have to the greatest,” he tells you. “I just wanna wash dishes with you for the rest of my life and hear about how traffic was unbearable.”

You smile, and your assurance reaches him.  

“I think that counts as love too,” he finishes, the smile on his face tender.

-

As he leans in after I do, he murmurs a question in your ear that you’ve been expecting since the start.

You could have just left, he said. How did you deal with me and still choose to stay?

Your answer was said without a hint of hesitation. With a shrug, and an honest smile, you told him, “Because I love you.”

“I think we both had to let go of the thought that to love always means to have the biggest reasoning behind it. We do things for love, and because of love. That’s just how it is,” you shrugged.

Oddly enough, it’s in that same exact moment where he remembers Bokuto’s question from that dinner a week and some days ago.  

How does it feel? he recalls, and even though words have never found him first nor met him in the middle easy, he gathers what he can and just settles on the conclusion that it just feels like love.

Wherein love, is this.

An identical band on his and your finger, and the taste of I do pleasant on the tongue. I love you, as a truth that’s easy to fathom and healing to hold, and the fear of what comes next just a passing thought that goes as soon as it comes.  

Later that evening his grandfather sits him down and asks him what he really thinks about why people have been putting off cutting down that tree for a few decades now.  

With a laugh, the hesitation that often turns decisions is made clear to him. “You know I think that people would decide things and think they’re so solid on it before even being face to face with it. The second they get to that tree with a chainsaw, I promise you they changed their minds. You think you go there and cut off or let go of one thing, then realize you’re cutting off something else in the end. They go back to what’s been there and realize that it’s not the problem at all.”

Tsukishima sighs, and his grandfather watches, the smile on his face easy. It’s like watching some emerge from a smoked out room, he thinks. Clarity’s always been a blessing, and he’s glad his grandson’s finally found it.  

“Sometimes going back to the start is the one thing you need to be reminded that it’s worth it to keep going.”

“Sounds like you’re not talking about the tree,” his grandfather comments.  Looking at you, Tsukishima smiles. “You could say that too.”

[love4buckybarnes]

HERE IN BROOKLYN

Summary: Stuck for the night in Brooklyn, New York, Y/N meets a stranger at the bar. At first it seemed like a one night stand, but the more time they spend together, the harder it is to let go.

Bucky Barnes x Reader. SMUT WARNING-unprotected sex, oral receiving male&female, and steamy hot.

A/N: hope you enjoy this one. I had a pleasure to writing this one. My inbox is open for anonymous requests.

“This can’t be happening right now!” Y/N exclaimed at the woman behind the desk. “When will the next flight be?”

This was the cherry on top of one of the worst weeks of her life. Her asshole of a boss sent her on a work trip to Brooklyn, New York, in the middle of winter. She worked as a marketing agent for a sales business. Earlier morning on this day, she pitched her strategies to a potential client. It was important because this was the last opportunity to prove herself to her boss. Unfortunately, they rejected her ideas and upon hearing the bad news, she was fired on the spot over the phone. So, here she was at the airport only trying to get back home.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, there’s nothing I can do,” the check-in clerk apologized to calm the frantic woman the best she could. “Because of the oncoming storm, all flights have been canceled until further notice. We will post new flights once we feel it’s safe.” She turned her attention elsewhere to help another customer.

Y/N stood there for a minute, dumbfounded, before storming away. “This is bullshit,” she muttered under her breath.

White powder fell from the sky, covering the ground in a blanket of snow. Icy, bitter air nipped at any exposed skin. Y/N could see the fog of her frustrated breaths. She tightened the thick coat around her as the snow quickened its pace. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the cold. Everything felt like it was crashing down on her. Finally, after waiting in the freezing snowfall, the headlights of the cab appeared in the distance.

• • • • •

Bucky laid there on the couch in his living room, listening to the low hum of the TV. All he wanted was to get some much-needed sleep. Whenever his eyes closed, instead of darkness, he would see memories of his past fill his mind. He’s seen a therapist. Any progress he makes, the doubts that whispered in his head held him back. It wasn’t going to be that easy, he knew that. Nothing he could do can change or erase what he’s done.

Instead of some shut-eye he grabbed his coat, and he found himself wandering outside in the cold. He made his way to the local bar down the street.

Bucky took a sip of the bitter liquid that calmed his nerves. Even though he couldn’t get drunk, he still enjoyed the taste and the burn in his throat. With enhanced hearing, his ears picked up the faint sound of boots walking to where he was sitting. In the corner of his eyes, he watched the woman sit down next to him.

“3 shots please,” she requested to the bartender, voice distressed. She choked one down as soon as they have been set down in front of her.

His head cocked to the side to get a better look. Her beauty struck him. She was absolutely breathtaking. Bloodshot eyes met his briefly. He noted the puffiness around the fragile skin as if she had been crying.

Bucky couldn’t help himself. He leaned over, so she could hear him over the loud music and voices. “Rough night?”

The second shot glass was raised up and she paused, looking at him. “Could be better,” she replied dryly. The clear liquid passed her lips. She cringed at the taste in her mouth.

“Yeah, mine too.” He took another sip of his beer. “Are you from around here?”

She shook her head. “I’m here for a business, or was,” she explained. “My boss fired me today because I didn’t get the contract... I was supposed to fly back home tonight until they canceled the flight. So now I’m here.”

Bucky’s face scrunched up at what she said. “Yeah. You’re night is much worse than mine. I’m sorry. That definitely sucks.” He swiveled the stool around that he sat on to face her and stuck out his human arm. “I’m Bucky.”

She looked down at his hand, hesitant at first, before placing hers in his. “Y/N.” She shifted in her seat to get a better look at him, she recognized him. “Wait a second, you’re the Winter Soldier. I’ve watched you on the news.” Y/N found him attractive. The long dark hair she’s seen him with on TV was cut short, and he had the most striking blue eyes she had ever seen.

Not being used to people recognizing him, he looked away. He was mostly afraid they would judge him for the bad things he did, instead of the good. “Which side of me have you seen?”

Y/N frowned at this. “Both. I like the good Bucky.” She drank down the last shot.

Bucky went to say something else but tensed up when her arm reached out, a hand grabbing on to his. Normally, he would freak out whenever someone touched him out of nowhere. That was then, so he relaxed.

She tugged on him. “We should go dance. This is my favorite song.”

At first, he stalled, staying in his seat. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I don’t really dance.”

Y/N ignored his protests and continued to drag him on to the dance floor. She stumbled on her own feet, feeling fuzzy from the alcohol.

Bucky was a bit uncertain, but he followed her anyway. She swayed her hips to the beat with a grin on her face. He stood there, not knowing what to do, nor did he have any intentions to join her. That was until a pair of arms wrapped around his neck. On instinct, he placed his hands on her waist. He decided he needed to loosen up and live a little, mimicking her movements.

Y/N had a boost of confidence from the booze running through her veins. She pushed herself up on to her tippy-toes and pressed her lips on to his.

For a second he was frozen in shock. A rush of something unexplainable came over him, telling him to kiss her back. His palms moved to each side of her face as the kiss deepened. “Want to get out of here?” he asked against her lips. Y/N nodded, and that’s all it took for Bucky to lead her back out into the cold.

• • • • •

As soon as they made it inside of his apartment, she was against the wall, Bucky hot on her tail. Their mouths locked in an intense kiss. Bucky kicked the door closed with his foot as he moved his mouth roughly against hers. His human-hand was placed at the small of her back, guiding her hips to brush against him. Y/N panted for breath when he tore away to pepper her exposed neck with kisses, her head lolling to the side to give him better access.

Bucky had a sudden sense of nerves, causing him to pause his pursuit. “To be honest, I haven’t done this in a long time.” The words he spoke came out in shaky whispers.

She looked at him in a dazed way, her eyes filled with lust. “Do you want to stop?”

To answer her question, Bucky kissed her again. His tongue that wove into her accepting mouth found hers, and they danced together. He hoisted her up by her thighs, her legs wounding themselves around him. By the time they reached his bedroom, most of Y/N’s clothes were thrown every which way, leaving her in only her bra and underwear. Bucky’s mouth made a trail from her lips to her neck. His lips traveled further down to find the curve of one of her breasts. With ease, he popped the clasp of the undergarment and tossed it behind him. Y/N arches at the warmth of his tongue flicking against her nipple. He sucked it into his mouth. Teeth grazed the swollen bud while his hand massaged the other.

“You’re overdressed,” she said, breaking the silence. She gripped the bottom of his shirt. He lifted his arms to assist her.

For a second Bucky’s insecurities got to him and closed his eyes tight, scared of what she’ll think of his metal arm. But all his fears washed away when she didn’t even acknowledge it, pulling him closer towards her. Y/N’s hand found the zipper to his jeans and he kicked them off, his briefs following in the same direction.

He hooked his hands, one on her hip and one on her thigh. Before she knew it, she felt the dip of the bed under her weight as she sunk into the sheets. Their bodies pressed ever so close together, skin to skin. Lips locked, his fingers lacing into her hair. Once again, he let his lips wonder her body until they reached the spot where she wanted to feel them the most.

Hot breath brushed against her clothed core. A cool sensation ran along her slit. Without a warning, her thong was torn off. Light feather kisses littered the inside of her thighs.

A breathy moan seeped out when she finally felt his wet mouth encase her pussy. He suckled on the bundle of nerves. The flat of his tongue licked up in a slow motion. He wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. The cold feeling came back. She shivered in response as it pressed its way into her entrance. She twitched and writhed under his touch.

Tension rose inside her as she was reaching her peak. At the sound of her moans and motions of her squirming, the movements of his tongue on her clit quickened its pace. His metal fingers moved in a rhythmic motion inside her. She screamed out his name. Her orgasm washed into his mouth, and he sucked her clean.

Bucky crawled back up and kissed her, the taste of herself on his lips exciting her. She flipped them over, wanting to return the favor. Without wasting time, she took his rather large length in her mouth. Tongue flicked and circled around the head.

“Shit baby. That feels incredible,” he said through gritted teeth. His hands found themself tangled into her hair.

She bobbed up and down, massaging his balls. He quivered at the sensations he was feeling. Before he could let go just yet, he pulled her up and was back on top, his knee spreading her legs apart.

They shuddered in unison when the tip of his groin brushed against her entrance. Not being able to contain it any longer, he shoved the rest of his dick all the way inside as far as it could go. He groaned in pleasure at her wetness.

Bucky went slowly at first. He wanted to avoid hurting her, but she urged him to speed up. Her nails dug into his shoulders, crying in ecstasy. His breath fanned over the side of her face and bare skin.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” he growled out in a hungry tone. He pounded in to her in fierce strokes. She felt extraordinary against him.

“Me too,” she moaned out, her eyes rolling back.

They both let out a series of almost animalistic moans, the rush of their release sending them into complete bliss. Bucky collapsed on top of her, propping himself up so he doesn’t crush her. He rolled to one side of the bed. Y/N followed him, her arm and leg slung over his torso. Bucky pressed a kiss to her temple, wrapping his arms around her too. The two laid there breathless, like they had the wind knocked out of them.

• • • • •

“Careful, it’s hot,” Bucky warned her, handing her a mug of steaming hot tea. He took a seat next to her on the couch with a cup for himself.

“Thanks.” She sighed at the warmth the mug gave off to her hands, the heat soothing her insides. They were fully dressed and shared a large blanket that bundled around them.

The rest of the night was spent sat on the couch together, talking and getting to know each other. Y/N spoke about small bits of her life, and he told her some things he remembered before he became the Winter Soldier, back when Captain America was his best friend. Soon enough, they both drifted off to sleep against each other. And for once, rather than nightmares, Bucky had pleasant dreams.

The weather cleared up the next day. Bucky and Y/N spent most of it wondering around Brooklyn. He showed her around to some of his favorite places.

Bucky quickly grew fond of Y/N. He felt at ease around her, which is something that he hasn’t experienced in a long time. Was it crazy to say it is love at first sight? The things he was feeling, he wished it would never go away. Everything about her made him crave and want more. The little quirks she did like her laugh and the way her eyes crinkled. And when she got shy, she would play with her hair. Y/N’s presence enticed him. The usual worries, the negative thoughts, and all else that beat at Bucky daily went away.

Y/N sensed it too. She saddened more when the day went by. Being around Bucky, she felt light on air as if she was floating and like she was on Cloud 9. There was something in her that was begging her to stay. It told her not to board that flight and go home. But she was afraid of being vulnerable so fast. She was also not used to change.

Later on, they found themselves at a park. Both sat down on a bench, watching families play on the snow and people all around them.

Bucky turned to her. Those steel-blue eyes that were starting to tug on the strings of her heart held sadness. “Do you really have to go?” he asked, his voice gloomy.

Y/N thought for a moment. She almost wanted to say no. “I should get back home.”

“Or you could stay,” he pushed. “You’d like it here and would be happier here. It’s New York. There are opportunities here, you could find a better job, and there’s me.”

Something rubbed her the wrong way. She stood up, whirling around to face him. “You only met me last night, and you already think you know what’s best for me?”

He was taken aback at her outburst. His hands went up in a defensive stance. “No, not at all,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry that you thought that. I just don’t want this to end.”

“You’re just being selfish. I’m sure there’s plenty of girls that you could pick up at the bar that I’m sure would be happy to have sex with you,” Y/N snapped out. Her own words surprised her. As soon as they left her mouth, she regretted them.

Bucky was confused at her words. “You assume that I picked you up at the bar just for sex? Is that what you think all of this was? And hey by the way, you’re the one who came on to me.”

Y/N jabbed at his chest. “Yeah, well, I was upset and had a bit to drink. I didn’t think it would go any further than this.” She wasn’t even upset at him. She honestly didn’t know why she was mad. Maybe it was the fact that .

The commotion stirred attention from a couple of bystanders as they watched the scene unfold.

“I’m not just some guy that uses girls. That’s not me at all,” he retorted back, standing up too.

Y/N became distraught and emotional. Her eyes watered with fresh tears. “It shouldn’t have gone further than it has. I’m supposed to move here all because you got caught in your feelings? Well, I did too. We have to say goodbye.”

“But it doesn’t have to end now. I feel something for once in the longest time.” Bucky felt his stomach turn. His fists balled at his side, clenching and unclenched.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” she croaked out. “I can’t stay. I can’t change everything suddenly for you when we just met.” She turned on her heels and ran off, hurrying down the park. She waved down a nearby taxi.

Bucky just stood there watching what could be the start of his life drive away. The cab disappeared, and his head lowered. He felt stupid. He knew he was in the wrong. She had every right to feel and think like she did. At first, he thought about just forgetting it and going home. But he didn’t. He couldn’t let it go. “Fuck!” he blurted out loudly, scaring the surrounding individuals. He raced down the street and flagged down a taxi as well.

Y/N grabbed her stuff from the conveyor belt. She got there just in time. The plane that will take her home had just landed. Her mind was swirling with many emotions. She felt the guilt eat away at her for being mad at Bucky. She couldn’t blame him. He had been through so much. All he wanted was something good for once. She also wanted it so badly too. But her life isn’t here. She wasn’t about to put it on hold.

Before she could make another step forward, she felt a cold touch on her shoulder. Y/N recognized it as the metal arm that belonged to Bucky. He spun her around. She went to speak, but lost her train of thought when a pair of lips came crashing down on hers.

A few seconds into the kiss, Bucky pulled away. He placed his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. His eyes said everything. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, doll,” he whispered. “It wasn’t my intention to make you feel like you had to change your life. You’re right. I was being selfish. I just, I felt different around you. For once, when I’m around you I was at peace. All the worries and darkness that I have, is pushed aside. It felt so good to have a sense of freedom from the constant battle I have everyday. I didn’t want to lose that.”

Tears fell from Y/N’s eyes at his confession. His thumbs quickly swept them away. “I’m sorry too, for getting mad at you. I let my emotions and doubts get to me. I know you’ve been through a lot. I’m so grateful that I make you feel that way.”

He kissed her again, this time it was soft and full of promises. “You’ll come back, right?” he asked, hopeful.

Y/N smiled, nodding. “Yes. Yes, of course I will, Bucky. I promise.”

They shared one last kiss. It wasn’t a goodbye. It meant see you soon.

Y/N kept that promise.

• • • • •

She leaned against the window, looking out. The plane has just landed. Y/N gleamed with happiness and excitement. She couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to JFK Airport. It is 7:43 pm and 60 degrees out.’

Her happy thoughts drowned out the rest of what the captain was saying. It was the end of March. The snow has melted away. Here she was, back in New York.

Bucky sat at the bar, beer in hand. His mind wandered with delight. He couldn’t stop thinking about it all day today and yesterday. Mid-sip, his extraordinary hearing, his ears perked up at the sound of heels approaching him.

“Rough night?”

His lips curved up in a grin. That voice was something he was impatiently waiting to hear again. Setting the bottle down, he swung around. There she was. The woman who has not left his mind ever since they met stood right in front of him.

“Actually, my night just became even better,” he spoke. The grin on his face broke out into the dorkiest smile.

Y/N’s matched his. “I have some good news to share.”

He arched his brow in response.

She sat down on the stool next to him. “I got an internship,” she began to say. “And if they like me enough, a permanent job. Here in New York to be exact.”

Bucky’s heart swelled, as if it was going to burst out of his chest. He reached over and kissed her. Oh, how much he missed those addicting lips. He pulled away. “That is wonderful. I’m so happy for you. Congratulations, Doll.”

“The good thing is that the people I’m working with I’ve personally worked with in the past,” she said. “So it’s almost a guarantee.”

“Well, we need to celebrate. How about I take you on a proper date?”

Y/N’s heart soared. “I can’t say no to that.”

This was the beginning of a new start for both of them, together.

[bvidzsoo]

No one like you

 Author: bvidzsoo

 Warnings: light swearing, overload of fluff for the light hearted

 Pairing: Kim Mingyu x female reader

 Word count: 15, 074 

 Summary:  On a very important day you get a call from your sister asking you to babysit her daughter. She knows how important the project is for you and wouldn’t have bothered to ask you if it really wasn’t urgent. And you know that, so you reassure her that you’ll babysit Jieun. However, you get a little surprise when Kim Mingyu, your brother-in-law’s best friend, shows up unannounced, did I mention he’s also your ex? 

 A/N: Holy moly what a ride this one shot was writing! I had no idea I had the capacity to write something as fluffy as this bUT! THIS IS KIM MINGYU! and I love Kim Mingyu too much, so this is me channeling my inner love haha. Hope you enjoy it and I would love to read your feedback!

       The studio has been buzzing with people the whole week. The new exposition was going well and I was proud that my works gained so much attention in so little time. I have been painting ever since middle school, a small and innocent passion became the job that allows me to put bread on my table every day. I never imagined that one day I would become a well-known painter, it just seemed surreal. But it happened, in my sophomore year, I painted a little piece for a contest and I won, gaining a lot of attention. Ever since then things changed, but they really only changed after I finished high school. I didn’t go to college, like many of my peers, I downed myself into the world of art and went around Europe, researching and learning as much as I could about the painters. Somewhere along the way, in Switzerland to be exact; I was actually taking a break; is where I met my manager. Hansol Vernon Chwe. He had a fine eye for art, very sophisticated taste and unique views. Through him, I met Xu Minghao, my second-in-hand. Minghao was mesmerizing, his mere presence could capture your whole attention. Everything about him was delicate, his taste was even finer than mine and he was ruthless. He knew what he wanted, always, and wasn’t afraid to demand it. Only wanting the best, always striving to be the best. I’m a perfectionist, I rarely let loose and I’m obsessed with order. Minghao and I clicked instantly, it was love at first sight, in a very platonic way. Ever since Vernon introduced me to him, we’ve been working together. Minghao is a painter as well, his style rigid and very colorful, meanwhile mine is warm and homey. We run the studio together, he’s a few years older. It was his idea to work together, to build the studio together, to give it life together. It was his project of a life time, his very own dream, and when he shared it with me, asked me to join him, I knew I couldn’t refuse him. It was great exposure to the both of us and it wasn’t a big surprise of how well it worked.

I was busy talking to a client when my phone started ringing, cutting my words off. Vernon threw me a displeased look, they were clients from France and they wanted a contract with me, some of my paintings would be exposed in their art gallery if I went through with the deal today, but when my phone rang for the second time, I knew I had to excuse myself. I wouldn’t have to, if it wasn’t my sister calling. She had a different ringtone, on purpose, and she knew I was busy today, so, she wouldn’t have called unless it was something very important.

“I’m so sorry for bothering you!” Were her first words as I picked up, eliciting a chuckle from me.

“Yeah, I’m talking to some very important people, right now, Joohyun. What’s wrong?”

“Wonwoo and I got stuck.” Her sigh was loud and I listened closely, eyebrows furrowing.

“Where?”

“On the highway, we are still three hours away, traffic is insane, again…”

“Okay, what can I do?” I asked, already knowing it involved Jieun, my 4-year-old niece.

“Jieun’s nanny has to leave in an hour, something came up for her…can you go over? Look after her until Wonwoo and I get back?” I bit my lower lip, thinking hard. Can I leave the studio in an hour? The event goes on the whole day and I am supposed to stay. But if Jieun needs me, our parents live on the other side of the country they won’t be able to come in such a short time, I had no choice but to make it work.

“Yeah, sure, don’t worry. I’ll go babysit her.” I reassured Joohyun and she sighed out relieved.

“Thank you, Y/N, you are a life saver!” Came Wonwoo’s deep voice through the speakers, no doubt my sister was using the car’s Bluetooth to speak on the phone.

“Sure thing, Won, see you later. Drive safely, brother-in-law!” After my sister and her husband bid me their goodbye’s I hung up the phone and went to find Minghao and Vernon. Vernon just finished talking to the French clients and as I neared him, he shook his head.

“What could have been more important than this deal?”

“My sister.” I deadpanned and Vernon sighed as he nodded his head.

“Well, I made the deal. So, if you want to back out, we can’t anymore. The paintings we talked about will be shipped off to Lyon next week.”

“That’s alright with me. For how long is the contract?” I let my eyes run over the people inside the studio, eyes falling on Minghao. He was standing next to one of his painting’s, a glass of red wine in his hand as he spoke to three blonde females. They were giving him suggestive smiles but Minghao paid little to no attention to them as gazed at his painting proudly.

“Contract is for two years, Y/N.” Vernon answered me and I nodded with my lips pursed, waving Minghao over once we made eye contact. He excused himself and jogged over, a bright smile on his lips.

“Everything good?” He asked with his honey voice and Vernon nodded.

“So, uhm…” I cleared my throat and looked at them apologetically, “I have to leave in an hour.”

“Oh?” Minghao asked surprised, looking at Vernon to see if he knew about this already, but he didn’t.

“Joohyun called and asked me to babysit Jieun, her babysitter has to leave in an hour.” I explained to the guys and Vernon’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Is there no one else that could go?”

“No, I’m sorry, I really want to stay, but I just—can’t.” I sighed and Vernon nodded in understanding.

Minghao’s eyes lit up in sudden realization as he pointed his glass of wine at me, “Mingyu.”

“Uh…what about Mingyu?” I asked confused, looking at Minghao with furrowed eyebrows.

“Call him and tell him to babysit Jieun instead of you.” He proposed his idea and I took a second to think.

“I’m sure Joohyun and Wonwoo thought of Mingyu first.” Minghao went to cut me off but I raised one finger at him, “Joohyun knows it’s important what we are doing today, she really wouldn’t have called if Mingyu was available, okay?”

“Sure.” Minghao muttered with a sigh and Vernon patted my shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of everything. Minghao will entertain the guests, no doubt.” A teasing grin came onto Vernon’s lips as he took the glass of wine from Minghao.

“Why can’t you do it, huh?” Minghao snapped back, glaring at Vernon when he took a sip from his glass.

“And this is why I didn’t want to leave…” I muttered with a shake of my head, making Vernon chuckle as Minghao shot me a glare.

“We are very competent of running things on our own, Y/N, thank you very much.” I gave Minghao a look before he returned it, challenging me. Sometimes our personalities would clash together, one more stubborn than the other.

“Chill, guys,” Vernon raised a hand in the air to get our attention, our mediator in tense moments, “Y/N, you should greet Mr. Yoon’s grandmother before you leave, she’s been looking for you.”

“Of course!” My face lit up at the mention of Grandma Yoon, the old lady having been a very loyal customer of mine. I met her through the contest back in high school and ever since we’ve kept in touch. She used to think Yoon Jeonghan, her charming nephew, and I would become a thing. She was really convinced she could make us date, but Jeonghan and I were too different. And to be fairly honest, I’m not someone very interested in relationships. I’m fine on my own, I don’t mind not having a partner. It was long since someone held me in their arms and kissed my forehead softly, but my art required a lot of attention and time that I wasn’t willing to sacrifice for someone else. I’ve been on a few dates since high school, but they never worked out. I blamed them on my atrociously high expectations but those weren’t the reasons for my failed love life. It was a person that I never truly got over, he ruined me in the best way possible, and now I just can’t find anyone that could live up to his level. No one. And it was frustrating until I realized I didn’t actual need someone to feel completed and happy. Excusing myself from Minghao and Vernon, I went around the studio with a smile on my face, searching for Grandma Yoon and Jeonghan.

       The car ride to my sister’s house took a lot longer than usual, traffic at noon was horrible in the city. I was at least fifteen minutes late by the time I pulled in their driveway, quickly getting out of the car, big bag full of supplies almost falling from my hand. I locked my car and rushed to the front door, ringing the bell. It took three seconds and the door was thrown open, a relieved look on the nanny’s face.

“I’m sorry, traffic was really bad today.” I shot an apologetic smile to the nanny and she opened the door wider, to let me step inside.

“I understand, thank you so much for coming!” She bowed her head as she pulled on her coat, stepping outside the door, “It’s really urgent.”

“Hurry, then…” I motioned for her to leave with my head and she bowed a bit before rushing away, leaving me shaking my head. I closed the door and threw my heels off, music coming from the living room. I smiled to myself when a girly voice echoed to the hallway, singing along to the lyrics. I left my green, thin, coat hanging on the hanger and gripping my heavy bag with both hands, I headed towards the living room. My sister’s house was big and beautiful. Her and Wonwoo have a simple yet sophisticated taste. Their house looked a thousand times better than my apartment. As clean as I am, my apartment could be a mess from time to time. Especially my art room, where I paint, that one was always a mess. But for me that mess was order, I always knew where everything was and found whatever I was looking for within seconds. As I walked down the hallway to the living room, I gazed at the pictures in white frames that were hung up on the white walls. The pictures were of Wonwoo, Joohyun and Jieun, mostly. There were a few family portraits from both parties, Wonwoo and Joohyun, and there were even some of me and Mingyu. Actually, the one who took almost every picture was Mingyu. He has had a passion for photography since high school and continued to do it as a side job, even currently. He was borderline an artsy, borderline a jock kind of guy throughout high school, maybe that’s why he attracted all kinds of girls. Myself included.

“What a nice voice you have, Jieun!” I exclaimed as I let my bag fall to the floor once I made it into the living room’s doorway.

Jieun’s head turned away and a big gummy smile, nose scrunched up, spread on her soft face, “Auntie Y/N! You came!”

“Of course, I came, auntie wouldn’t miss any chance of spending time with her favorite girl in this whole world!” Jieun started giggling loudly as I spoke in a funny way, jumping my way towards her.

“I’m really your favorite girl?” She asked with another giggle as I reached her and scooped her up in my arms. Her weight wasn’t something I couldn’t handle; she was only four after all.

“Well…it might be Joohyun, but—”

“Auntie, bad auntie!” Jieun whined with a pout and I grinned at her, kissing her cheek.

“Bad auntie, I know.” I muttered and she pressed a soft kiss to my cheek, so I placed her down, “What were you doing with your nanny?”

“We studied a little bit of numbers, then I wanted to watch cartoons and she promised to make some French fries for me but—she’s gone now.” Jieun’s lips formed a pout and she oddly resembled a little bunny, cheeks puffing up. I laughed and crouched down in front of her.

“So, here’s my plan…” I motioned for her to lean as if I was sharing a secret with her, “Auntie brought some of her painting stuff over…so, after we paint a bit, I will make French fries for you. Cool?”

“Cool!” Jieun exclaimed loudly, clapping her hands together. I winked at her and went to grab my bag from the doorway, dragging it to the coffee table. I glanced at her as I opened the bag, her big eyes shone with excitement; she loved drawing and painting; and her nose scrunched up in the most adorable way as she smiled. She was an oddly mix of both Joohyun and Wonwoo. Sometimes, the two would start bickering about who she looked more like…in those time, of course Mingyu and I would have to interfere, and of course Mingyu would be on Wonwoo’s side meanwhile I was on Joohyun’s, just to balance out everything. But when Jieun smiled, she was the exact replica of Wonwoo, nose scrunching in the same way and eyes disappearing almost. When she was serious or pouting, she looked like Joohyun with her big eyes and delicate lips. Her beautiful dark hair reached her shoulders and she’d always brush her bangs out of her eyes, especially when she was frustrated with something. And oh my God, she was one of the most stubborn kids I’ve ever met. She knew how to manipulate people, even at the age of four, and most of the time got what she wanted. She inherited Joohyun and Wonwoo’s calm natures, never being a hyper child, nor too loud. She could be a little angel but she had her moments when she was hard to deal with.

“So…” I looked at Jieun as she kept smiling at me, “Do you have anything in mind that you’d like to paint?”

She sat on her knees close to the coffee table as she stared down at the smaller white canvas I placed on the table for her. All kinds of brushes and colors lay on the table, Jieun’s eyes running over them eagerly.

“Nothing special, maybe some trees…a blue sky…green grass…something nice.” She mused, more to herself, and I chuckled quietly as I shook my head. One day, my little Jieun, would turn into a big painter herself, making her auntie proud.

“Sounds excellent,” I raised my thumb up at her and she giggled, “Should we start?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed and quickly claimed her brush, asking me to pour some blue paint onto her palette. I did as I was asked and watched as her tongue darted out and eyebrows furrowed as she mentally imagined where she’d place the sky.

“Auntie, will you not paint?” She gave me a quick glance before swiping her brush against the canvas.

“Not today, I’m taking a break.” I answered her as I leaned against the sofa, watching her paint, “Auntie has worked really hard the past three months, I need some rest.”

“Don’t you paint though because it makes you relax?” Her eyebrows rose as she tried to lighten the blue color she placed on her canvas.

“That’s true, but I’m wearing white pants…” I trailed off with a lame excuse, making Jieun throw me an amused glance. I giggled when she shook her head, it made me feel like I was the kid and she was the adult. Jieun, sometimes, would act really mature for her age, saying meaningful things without realizing the weight of her words. Mingyu always blamed it on Wonwoo and Joohyun, who would never fail to remind their daughter certain things that would form her into a decent human being later on in life.

“I’m so excited!” Jieun giggled as she pointed at the yellow paint, and I took and pushed some of it onto her palette.

“Do you like painting so much?” I chuckled and Jieun nodded, “That makes auntie really happy!”

“Yes but no!” She exclaimed and I raised my eyebrows at her as she attempted to paint a big sun onto the blue sky she just painted, “Uncle is coming over too!”

My eyebrows furrowed as I looked surprised at the little girl sitting next to me, Mingyu is coming over?

“Did you speak to mommy and daddy, Jieun?”

“Yes, they said uncle Mingyu couldn’t make it in time so they will ask you to come instead.” She hummed and grinned at me before turning back to her canvas.

“Ah, so Mingyu isn’t really coming over…” I let out a sigh, pleased to hear he wouldn’t show up today. I haven’t seen him in over a month, and meanwhile it was a long time, it was actually refreshing. I didn’t have much time to spend time with my family as I was busy with the studio and the project Minghao and I have been working on. Mingyu was considered family, even though he wasn’t related to anyone. It’s just the way it is, Wonwoo and him grew up together, it was only natural Wonwoo considered him his brother. So that made him, indirectly, Joohyun’s brother-in-law and my…well, brother-in-law? I wasn’t really sure, it didn’t matter, I didn’t consider Mingyu really family either way. It was just weird, to look at him and think ‘oh yeah, he’s like my bro’, because we have dated in high school before, for two years. Two years of bliss and pure happiness, two years I wish I could time travel back to.

“But uncle is still coming over though…” Jieun muttered to herself and my eyebrows furrowed, but I ignored her comment. She just misunderstood what her mom and dad told her. Mingyu couldn’t make it today, so they called me instead. Just like I suspected, I knew Joohyun wouldn’t have bothered me if she had other options.

Painting the canvas went well and in-an-hour Jieun was finished, happy and proud of her work. She asked me to critically asses her painting and so I did, entertaining my little niece furthermore, her giggles filling the living room. She was so loud that I didn’t even hear the front door opening, a mistake on my part as I forgot to lock it, and the deep voice made me jump upon I heard it.

“And what do we have here…” My eyes were wide as my heart beat quickly, a loud squeal leaving Jieun’s lips before he was up on her feet, dashing towards the giant standing in the doorway. Mingyu was grinning down widely at Jieun as he scooped her up in his strong, and well-built, arms, his sharp canines showing off when his smile widened more. His black hair was disheveled, probably because he continuously runs his hand through it, and the sides stuck to his face, still wet. He was wearing black shorts that reached his knees and a sleeveless blue loose tank top, a silver chain dangling from his neck. I quickly caught myself ogling him and huffed as I rose to my feet, arms crossing in front of my chest. Truly, who knew not seeing him for a month would make him look more attractive? Mingyu, no doubt, had an incredible glow up since high school. If he would’ve looked like this during high school too, I’m sure all the girls would’ve lined up in front of his classroom to bring him all sorts of things. But even as handsome as he was now, I found him plain. Maybe because I’ve known him for a long time now, and don’t get me wrong, plain not in a bad way…he was just, plain, transparent.

“Look how excited you are to see uncle!” Mingyu teased Jieun as he poked her stomach, eliciting a loud shriek. I couldn’t help it but smile, having a big weakness for Mingyu and Jieun together. And alone, just…when it came to Mingyu, after all those years, he was still my one and only weakness. It amazed me how I never got over him one hundred percent, I just couldn’t. But I didn’t want to either, not when his flaws seemed perfect too.

“Because I love uncle!” Jieun grinned at Mingyu, nose scrunching up making Mingyu giggle.

“Of course, you love me! I’m the best uncle ever!” Jieun cheered with Mingyu as he started dancing around with her still in his arms, Jieun poking Mingyu’s cheek.

“Finally, uncle and auntie are together!” Jieun cried out as Mingyu started tickling her sides, making her laughter echo loudly in the house. It seemed like realization dawned on him upon he heard Jieun’s words, he seemed to realize that there was another person there with them, standing a few feet away, smiling at them. Mingyu stopped moving and Jieun giggled quietly, trying to catch her breath from being tickled, throwing her arms around Mingyu’s neck to give him a tight hug. Mingyu’s gaze locked with mine and I kept my smile on as he returned it.

“Look who finally showed up!” He teased and put Jieun down, acting as if his muscles were sore from holding her and he earned a light slap from Jieun.

“Well, hello,” I said with a chuckle as Mingyu walked further inside the living room, headed my direction, “Long time no see, old friend.”

“A month, to be exact.” Mingyu said, suddenly serious, as he stopped in front of me, “Are you ignoring us now?”

“As if you don’t know…” I rolled my eyes and undid my arms that were in front of my chest, to turn and walk away, but Mingyu was fast and he was already pulling me in a hug. His body was bigger than mine and whenever he hugged me, I felt like I was melting into him, disappearing from the world. This time wasn’t different, in fact, it felt like his body swallowed mine all up as he gripped me tightly. One month was really that long of a time, huh. I returned the hug, suddenly realizing his tank top was damp and he didn’t smell exactly the most pleasant, at least his usual cologne was less strong, “I was busy with the studio and—are you sweating?”

“Right now?” Mingyu started laughing and his chest rocked against mine, my eyes widened, realization hitting me. He just finished work!

“Ew, Kim Mingyu, get off!” I shrieked and tried to wrestle myself out of his bear hug, but he squeezed harder and started laughing louder and louder, “You’re sweaty, no, stop!”

“Too late, dummy!” He said while laughing and twirled me around, very amused that I couldn’t get away from him.

“Don’t make me kneel you where the sun doesn’t shine!” I threatened with a deadly voice and in two second, he let go of me, “You’re disgusting!”

“That’s not something nice to say to someone, auntie…” We heard Jieun in the background say very lightheartedly.

“That’s right, Jieunie…” Mingyu said with a pout, leaning his face closer to mine. I quickly pushed it back and it made Mingyu snort before he glanced at the canvas on the coffee table.

“Oh! Did you paint this Jieun?” He asked, eyes wide and mouth open.

“Do you like it?” Jieun asked happily, bouncing on her toes.

“Love it! It’s so beautiful!”

“Thank you!” Jieun giggled and I patted her head as she came to stand by my side, grinning at Mingyu, “Next time I could paint you!”

“Oh, uncle would love that!” Mingyu winked at Jieun playfully as he looked back at me, “Missed you, Y/N.”

My heartbeat quickened and I snorted, very unladylike, as I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, sure…Can’t say I missed you very much, I guess—Yeah, kinda? A bit, yeah, I missed you too, idiot.”

“Wow,” Mingyu breathed out, an amused smile on his lips, “That sounded like you got a brain malfunction, glad to see I still make you flustered, Bae.”

“Don’t call me Bae.” I snapped at him, eyes narrowing as Mingyu went to the doorway, picking up his discarded backpack.

“Isn’t that your family name, Bae?” A sneaky smirk crossed his lips, he knew what he was doing. Of course, that is my family name but he is using it knowing it has double meaning.

“Go take a shower Kim, you stink.” I pinched the bridge of my nose with two fingers, making Jieun laugh loudly as she pointed at Mingyu.

“Auntie is making fun of you!”

“Didn’t Wonwoo hyung teach you to not point fingers or make fun of someone, Jieun?” Mingyu’s voice turned stern, but his expression remained light. Jieun, however, knew Mingyu was being serious and scolding her.

“Sorry,” She muttered with a pout and hid her face in my pants as she turned her body into me.

“Go shower, before I cut off the warm water, you dick—” I sucked in a deep breath at the almost slip, it was already bad that I let dick slip, as Mingyu started hollering with laughter.

“Good luck explaining that to Wonwoo and Joohyun later, bae.” He called as he walked down the hallway and towards the bathroom, laughter following him. I cursed in my head as I looked down at Jieun, a big smile on her lips.

“Dick?” She asked with a giggle and my eyes widened in mortification.

“Jieun, no! Never ever say that to anyone, okay?!” I snapped, eyes narrowing at her as I leaned down to be eye level with her, “Auntie will cry if you do, I swear, Jieun.”

“Auntie will be sad if I say…dick?” She giggled again and I glared at her, trying to make her understand she couldn’t say that. How do you make a kid stop from saying a bad word? Help?!

“Auntie will bawl, Jieun, not cry, bawl!” I emphasized the word, knowing how much Jieun hated seeing people cry.

“Okay, I won’t say it at all,” She raised her pinky finger and hooked it with mine, “Pinky promise.”

“Pinky promise.” I echoed after her, biting my lower lip nervously. This will come back and bite me in the ass later, I know it, and that’s when I’ll really be bawling. Especially if Joohyun will be shouting my head off with Wonwoo throwing daggers at me, dear God, what have I done?

       Jieun was beyond excited when I told her that I would have to cook lunch for us now, and she even volunteered to watch some Barbie movie while I do that. She knew I didn’t like other people in the kitchen with me while I was cooking, I always worked better alone. Mingyu was in the shower still, his phone blasting some upbeat song that we could hear clear and loud from the living room, hallway, and even a little bit from the kitchen. I shook my head as I turned on the Barbie movie for Jieun, Rapunzel, and walked to the kitchen while throwing daggers towards the closed and locked bathroom door. Mingyu always had weird habits but ever since we finished high school, he started developing some even weirder and annoying ones, like blasting music while showering. Maybe if it was Mozart or some jazz music it wouldn’t have bothered me, but the kind of music he listened to were men and women screaming and throwing out nasty words while saying them fast, that’s not music in my opinion. But I learned not to question him about many things, his rants would leave me with a headache afterwards, he always spoke too quickly which messed with my brain. He definitely wasn’t a very patient person and it showed in many ways.

I opened the fridge and took out everything I needed for lunch. I promised to make French fries for Jieun so that was the first thing I started working on. I washed the potatoes before peeling them and washing them again, then I placed them in a bowl and started cutting them up into long, thin, sticks. Without realizing, I found myself humming a ballad I heard a while ago while preparing the studio. It was a beautiful song about a man who regretted letting go of its lover, realizing too late what an amazing person this was. I could relate, almost, but it wasn’t me who broke up with Mingyu. He wanted us to break up, so I didn’t have much choice but to move on. Something I actually failed doing, only partially though.

I prepared the oil for the fries, placing it in a pan and putting it on the cooker, waiting for it to boil. I washed some vegetables and started cutting them, preparing a salad with some yoghurt and lemon dressing. I placed the first round of fries into the pan and hissed when some hot oil collided with the skin of my wrist, I always hated cooking with oil, that shit hurt when it burned you. As I moved around the kitchen, trying to find the salt that seemed to always be in a different cupboard, I became aware of the silence coming from the bathroom. Mingyu must have finished washing up, I strained my ears and was able to hear the Barbie movie still playing in the living room. I went back to the fridge and took out the meat that Joohyun placed there last night to defrost and took it to the chopping board. I took out the sharpest knife from the drawer bellow and started slicing up the meat into, somewhat, even pieces. I always found the cleaning and slicing of meat disgusting, nowadays, I didn’t even cook it anymore for myself. But Mingyu and Jieun really liked meat, and it seems like Joohyun had in mind to prepare it today, so I sacrificed myself to cooking it, not that it’s a big deal.

“Mhm, smells good in here,” The male voice made me flinch, I always get scared from the smallest things, “What are we cooking today?”

I heard shuffling from behind as Mingyu walked further inside the kitchen, his big feet thudding loudly against the marble floor.

“I’m cooking today.” I said as I proceeded to cut off the excess fat from the meat.

“You really don’t expect me to sit back and watch you cook?” Mingyu sounded amused and I knew I couldn’t really argue with him. He loved cooking and he was really good at it too.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind…” I trailed off as I crouched down to open the cupboard and take out a bowl, “You know I don’t like people bothering me when I do something.”

“Yeah, and if it wasn’t for me, your first round of French fries would’ve turned into ashes.” I rolled my eyes as Mingyu took his position at the cooker, taking out the French fries and dumping them into a deep bowl.

“I was about to check it…” I muttered as I proceeded to season the meat, licking the mixture from my palm. It tasted fine but I needed to mix it better so I proceeded to do that.

“From what I can see, you do need an extra pair of hands here…” Mingyu muttered with a chuckle and I felt him passing behind me to wash his hands in the sink, “Not that I wouldn’t mind sitting and watching you move around—those pants really do their justice to your ass—”

“Kim Mingyu.” I snapped and rolled my eyes, refusing to look at him and let him see the redness of my cheeks. I swear to God, he says things like that on purpose just to make me flustered. And they always work.

“What? I’m just giving you a compliment here!” He said defensively and passed again behind my back, coming a lot closer and I clenched my jaw.

“Slap my ass and I will cut off your fingers.” I warned, knowing him well enough, and Mingyu started giggling as he quickly ran past me, coming to a stop in front of the cooker. He placed the second round of potatoes into the boiling oil, no complaints coming, unlike from me. His technique was always better. I licked my finger again and hummed contently, about to wash my hands when Mingyu spoke up.

“Let me taste it!” He whined and I rolled my eyes, heading for the sink.

“When it’s done.” I muttered as I turned on the water, hand almost underneath it, when a large hand gripped my wrist and raised it up.

“Mingyu—” I choked on air when he proceeded to such off the mixture from my middle finger, knocking all air out of my lungs. He hummed with his eyes closed, lips in a pout as he released my finger from his mouth. My heart went crazy and my jaw hung open, I shifted from one leg to the other, saliva pooling in my mouth. What the fuck?!

And then my eyes proceeded to travel lower and now I was definitely turned on, “What the fuck?!”

His eyebrows rose and he looked confused as he followed my eyes, which were currently on his well defined six pack. Jesus Christ, woman, as if you haven’t seen men with six packs before! Yeah, but those men weren’t Kim Mingyu…The hand he was still holding twitched and I snatched out of his hold, mustering up my most frightening glare as my eyes connected with his. It took a lot of power to punch his biceps instead of his, very firm looking and broad, chest.

“Go put on a shirt, Jesus, Jieun doesn’t need to see you shirtless.” I scolded him and quickly turned around and washed off the mixture, before he decided to lick my whole hand clean.

“I don’t see Jieun around though…” I could hear the smirk in Mingyu’s voice and I scoffed as I rolled my eyes aggressively.

“Here or not, go put on a shirt, dickhead, no one is curious of your body. This isn’t the gym, Mingyu.” I muttered aggressively, avoiding to look at him as I reached for the towel to dry my hands, knowing well if I looked at him my eyes would be drawn to his chest instead of his face. I tensed and groaned in annoyance when Mingyu’s front was suddenly pressed up against my back, his warm enveloping mine. I hate how easily he could tease me and how easy it is to make me react; how easy it was for him to play around. I knew he only teased me because he lived for my reactions, but deep down I always hoped it was because there were still some lingering feelings for me. Maybe not, he broke up with me, after all.

“You left the water running, Y/N,” He muttered, voice low as he was so close, his breath tickled my exposed shoulder and I tried not to cover away, “Joohyun and Wonwoo won’t be too happy when their bill comes.”

“Yeah, well, how about you learn what personal space is?!” I snapped as I placed the towel down forcefully, wanting to turn around but knowing I couldn’t resist looking at his toned body, I stayed put instead.

“And miss all the reactions you give me?” He giggled as he placed his chin on my shoulder, making me sigh out loud, “That would be a total waste of my time.”

“And a lot of saving of my energy—your potatoes will turn into ash soon, so how about you move?” I raised my elbow and let it collide with his abdomen, not too harshly though. Mingyu giggled again and suddenly a new voice rang through the kitchen.

“Uncle, you’ve finished showering!” I panicked as I didn’t want Jieun to see us like this, she would tell her mom everything and I didn’t want Joohyun and Wonwoo smirking at us the next time we’ll have dinner together, “Why didn’t you tell me you’re cooking?”

Jieun was pouting and I hissed when Mingyu did nothing to move, looking at Jieun with a smug smile, “I want to help too!”

“Sure, sweetie, uncle was about to make some sandwiches, do you want to help?” Mingyu cooed at Jieun and I elbowed him again, harder this time, to make him step back. He groaned in pain and finally put distance between our bodies, when suddenly I felt teeth sinking into my shoulder.

“What the fuck?!” I couldn’t help but cry out and turn around sharply to slap a smirking Mingyu. I started back at him wide eyed as he started cackling, unphased by my slap to his side this time.

“Uncle will go and put on a shirt if he wants to live.” I said with a forced smile as I gave Mingyu a look, eyebrows raising at him, “Or do I have to make you wear one? Like a little kid?”

“Oh, bae, I can do that fine on my own.” He laughed as he walked to the table, where his grey shirt, with a deep V, was thrown down on.

“What is fuck?” Jieun asked, eyebrows furrowed, and my eyes widened as Mingyu started hollering with laughter again.

“Yeah, auntie, what is fuck?” Mingyu smirked once he was able to speak, hid laughter having died down, “I’m really curious too.”

I glared at both Mingyu and Jieun, placing my arms on my hips as I took a deep breath, “A very ugly word that only adults can use, alright?”

“Well, that’s unfortunate for you, Jieun.” Mingyu said with a shrug as he went to take the bread.

Jieun stuck her tongue out at Mingyu and I smirked as I walked towards the oven to take out the roasting tray, “I said adults, Mingyu.”

Jieun started giggling loudly and Mingyu threw me a glare as he paused slicing up the bread for the sandwiches he planned on making.

“Hand me some ham, cheese, tomatoes and lettuce, Jieunie.” Mingyu asked the little girl, watching me still as I stuck my tongue out at him before I started placing the meat into the roasting tray. Jieun pulled a chair to the fridge, climbed on it and started taking out the items Mingyu asked for.

“Thank you.” He thanked her when she waltzed back to him, grinning at Mingyu as she sat at the table, chin in her palms. I grinned at Jieun, she looked really cute. I quickly remembered the French fries and placed another round into the boiling oil, making me hiss when it went on my skin, again.

“You okay, auntie?” Jieun muttered as she threw me a glance, her eyes going back to Mingyu, who was assembling the sandwiches now.

“Yes, yes, don’t worry.” I smiled towards the girl before turning up the heat in the oven and placing the meat inside. I turned around and leaned against the counter and watched Mingyu work. His back was a bit hunched as he is very tall, his muscles flexing from time to time as he used his hands to make the sandwiches and he kept making faces at Jieun. He beaconed her over and let her place the round tomatoes into each sandwich, poking her nose and praising her once she was done. I sighed and checked on the potatoes again, stirring them a bit around.

“I have an awesome idea,” Mingyu spoke up, canines showing from how big his smile was, “Let’s have a picnic!”

“A picnic!” Jieun exclaimed, jumping up from her seat, “Auntie! We are having a picnic!”

I chuckled and nodded my head, looking at Mingyu with an impressed smile, “Seems like we are having a picnic!”

“I’m having a picnic with my favorite auntie and uncle!” Jieun shouted as she ran out into the hallway, “I will go and change! I want to wear something pretty!”

Mingyu and I laughed quietly as Jieun ran up the stairs, her feet thudding loudly upstairs as she went to her room to get changed. My eyes fell back on Mingyu, he was already looking at me, and he smiled warmly. I returned it and before I turned around, he sent a wink. I winked back and shook my head as I went to open the cupboards, looking for a tablecloth.

“I’ll prepare what we need for the picnic.” I informed Mingyu and he hummed.

“I’ll finish the rest of the potatoes, how long until the meat is done?”

“Forty-five more minutes.” I said after I glanced at my wristwatch, going around the kitchen to get the plates, utensils’ and what we else we needed.

       When forty-five minutes were up, the three of us went outside in the little garden behind the house. It was a good day, the sun high up in the sky with a few clouds here and there, and it was warm enough that you could wear a tank top and a cardigan over it. Spring was always a season I enjoyed the most. The pleasure of seeing everything bloom to life once again brought great joy for me. Taking walks in parks while the trees and grass turn once again green is a certain satisfaction you understand only if you experience it.

Meanwhile Mingyu prepared a few more dishes with Jieun’s help, I placed a blanket onto the grass and started carrying outside plates, utensils, glasses, apple juice and the food that was prepared, one by one. Jieun bounced around me the whole time, talking loudly and quickly as she told Mingyu to hurry up and bring the meat out so that we could start eating.

“Jieun,” I spoke up, looking up from my kneeling position on the blanket, “Go put on your denim jacket, sweetie, you might catch a cold in a simple t-shirt.”

“Do I have to?” She whined, lips jutting out and eyebrows furrowing.

“Yes, you do.” I gave her a look that she knew she couldn’t argue with, so she rose to her feet and ran back inside almost crashing into Mingyu when he appeared in the doorway.

“Woah, chipmunk!” He exclaimed, clutching the plate close to his chest, “We almost lost the meat!”

I giggled and shook my head at Mingyu, his eyebrows were furrowed as he turned around to shout back inside the house, making sure Jieun heard him. I sat down on the blanket, sighing out as I massaged my sore knees, I kneeled for too long.

“Stop being dramatic and bring that here.” I said when Mingyu turned back around, shaking his head in displeasure, exiting the house, “You hang out too much with Jeonghan.”

“I don’t,” He scoffed as he handed me the plate before taking a seat on the blanket, “I haven’t seen him in three weeks.”

“Oh no, did he finally ditch you?” I teased with a grin and Mingyu rolled his eyes.

“You wish, he’s my most loyal client!” Mingyu exclaimed, a proud smirk on his lips.

“Is he becoming as buff as you are?” I found myself asking absentmindedly, hating that I was confessing to having checked him out many times. It’s not my fault, his body is eye catching. The whole existence of Kim Mingyu is eye catching. You’d be a fool to be in a room and not notice him, his sole presence is powerful and like a magnet.

“Oh, so I’m buff?” I rolled my eyes as Jieun came running out the house.

“Yeah, whatever,” I muttered, smiling when Jieun plopped down next to me, “Ready to have lunch?”

“This is the best day of my life!” Jieun screeched and I chuckled, poking her cute cheek. Mingyu giggled quietly, grabbing a plate and starting to put various foods on it. Jieun watched him eagerly and so did I, failing to notice the fond smile on my lips.

“This one is for the princess,” He deepened his voice and did a little bow as he handed Jieun the plate, “From your loyal servant, Kim Mingyu.”

“No!” Jieun giggled, taking the plate excitedly, “You are uncle Mingyu! Not my servant!”

“Let me spoil you for a second, Jieun…” Mingyu said with a sigh, grabbing another plate. I handed Jieun her fork, she still struggled with her chopsticks, and placed a napkin on her lap.

“Don’t stain your pretty skirt, okay?” I asked and brushed her bangs out of her eyes.

“Don’t pressure her, Y/N,” Mingyu shot me a look, “Don’t worry about that, Jieunie, just eat freely!”

“You really do spoil her too much…” I chuckled, leaning forward to grab a plate but Mingyu slapped my hand away, “No wonder Joohyun complains about you.”

“She does?!” Mingyu made an offended sound and I watched as the, now, plate full of food was handed at me.

“Thank you.” I muttered with a smile, suddenly feeling shy at the look he was giving me. I looked away and turned my head quickly, reaching for my chopsticks. Mingyu remained quiet and I could feel him still looking at me but Jieun spoke up.

“The French fries are so good!” She exclaimed, making a ‘mm’ sound as she stuffed her mouth with more, “You cook better than mommy and daddy!”

“We do?” I asked with a laugh, glancing at Mingyu, who was smiling smugly.

“Of course, we do!” He gave me a look, “You’re sitting next to Korea’s biggest chef!”

“You wish.” I snorted meanwhile Jieun started giggling, shooting finger guns at Mingyu who winked back at her. It was heartwarming to see Mingyu and Jieun interact, their personalities were weirdly quite similar. Except, Mingyu was acting like a child sometimes as an adult and Jieun was still a child, she had an excuse. I liked spending my time with the two, I felt refreshed and full of positive energy afterwards. Even Mingyu’s teasing could feel pleasant after a long and tiring day at the studio.

“How’s the studio going?” My ears perked up when Mingyu spoke up, eyes on me.

“Oh, pretty well,” I said after swallowing, “The exposition is going well, I wish I was there…”

“Yeah, sorry,” Mingyu scratched his chin, shooting me an apologetic smile, “I thought I wouldn’t be able to come look after Jieun today, that’s why I told Joohyun to ask you. I had three more clients that were supposed to come in but Jeonghan is apparently sick, the other pulled a muscle two days ago and can barely walk and well the third one—I forgot.”

“You always forget things, uncle…” Jieun said with a giggle, dipping her French fry into ketchup. I leaned over the bowls placed in front of me on the blanket and grabbed the one with the salad.

“You have to eat vegetables to stay healthy, Jieun, not just junk food.” I said as I pushed a bit of the salad on Jieun’s plate, making her scrunch up her nose in disgust.

“You’re like dad, ew.” She muttered, shooting me a cute glare. I giggled and put the bowl down, turning towards Mingyu.

“I get it, don’t worry…” I reassured him with a smile, eating more of the meat from my plate, “I just worked so hard for this exposition and—you know Vernon and Minghao! They always find something to disagree on and to be honest, I hope they can keep it together at least until the event is over…”

Mingyu’s eyebrows furrowed as he nodded in understanding and he placed his right hand on my thigh, giving it a small squeeze, “Don’t worry, Vernon and Minghao know how much this means to you. And, besides, they would be jeopardizing themselves too if they fuck up, so…maybe that’ll make you sleep better at night—”

I started laughing, loudly, as I squeezed my eyes shut the food still in my mouth. Mingyu paused talking and his eyebrows were raised as he exchanged glances with a confused looking Jieun. It made me laugh more and I had to place my plate down and swallow carefully, my body rocking with laughter.

“Uh—I’m sure what I said wasn’t that funny—” And then Jieun started laughing too and I couldn’t help it but laugh harder. Jieun was clapping her hands excessively as she kept pointing her finger at Mingyu’s face, unable to say much.

“Un—uncle—you—” I tried to take deep breaths and calm down. Mingyu’s confused face turned into an angry expression, plate sitting on his thigh, as he crossed his arms in front of broad chest.

“What.” He snapped, eyes falling on me now that I stopped laughing.

“You—” I took a deep breath, calming my racing heart and clutching my stomach, “Have salad stuck between your front teeth, I’m sorry—”

I started giggling again and Mingyu’s eyes widened as he started chuckling, sticking his finger in his mouth to take care of the stray salad stuck between his teeth.

“Ew, uncle!” Jieun screeched, closing her eyes, “Cover your mouth when you do that!”

“Yeah, did your parents never teach you that’s disgusting?” I threw him a disgusted look and Mingyu grinned once he cleaned his teeth.

“You dared to laugh, at me,” He pointed at himself, straightening his back, “The great, Kim Mingyu?”

“Please…” I rolled my eyes with a scoff and gave Jieun a look, a look she returned with an amused grin.

“You shall face the punishment now!” I scoffed again and Mingyu leaned over the food and started poking Jieun’s sides, making her laugh again. She swatted at his fingers, throwing him a glare when he stopped.

“That’s not funny…” She muttered to herself as she resumed eating and I chuckled about to eat as well, when I felt a jab in my side.

“You don’t want to do this, Kim Mingyu,” I warned him, pointing a chopstick at him, “We both know you are more ticklish…”

“A punishment is a punishment, bae.” I rolled my eyes at the nickname but of course, Mingyu quickly started tickling my side and I started jabbing him with my chopstick wherever I could.

“Fight, fight, fight!” Jieun started chanting playfully and I huffed as I caught Mingyu’s wrist and stopped him.

“Seriously, don’t.” He pouted and pulled his arm back, throwing me a glance.

“You’re no fun.”

“Do you want me to tickle you?” I raised my eyebrows, wriggling my fingers when Mingyu glared.

“No.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Halfway through the meal, Jieun said she had enough and got up and ran to the little swing they had for her in the garden. Mingyu and I remained on the blanket, splitting what Jieun left on her plate and eating that too. Once we were finished, I poured him some apple juice, then for myself, and we drank it quietly while watching Jieun run around. I chuckled when she started playing with a small butterfly flying by, handing my cup to Mingyu when he asked for it. He gathered our plates, the bowls of food and put them on the far end of the blanket, away from us so that it wouldn’t bother us. Mingyu was leaning back on his forearms as his eyes followed Jieun around, a fond smile on his lips. I sighed and glanced at him, my eyes falling on the black camera resting by his thigh.

“How’s that business going?” I spoke, getting Mingyu’s attention. He followed my vision of line and nodded his head lightly.

“Pretty well,” He said, picking up the camera in his hands, “I’m collaborating with a high school currently, so I’m taking graduation pictures of their seniors.”

My lips formed an ‘O’ shape and I gave him a smirk, “You must be pretty famous around that high school.”

Mingyu chuckled and nodded his head, “Can’t say I’m not, Y/N.”

“Right, can’t remember a time you weren’t famous…” I trailed off, the two of us sharing a knowing look. Mingyu nodded solemnly and then raised his camera, turning it on.

“Two weeks ago, I had a wedding, that one was a big hit, made a lot of money!” He said with a grin, looking into his camera as he pointed it up towards the sky. I looked up and saw the sky was covered with more clouds now, but the sun was still shining brightly.

“I wanted to ask you to come to our studio for today, but Vernon and Minghao apparently booked a really famous photographer so, you know…I didn’t want to say no to them…”

“Yeah, that’s fine!” Mingyu shrugged and started grinning as he took pictures of Jieun, “Your events are way too prestigious, I might have turned down your offer either way.”

“No, you wouldn’t have, Mingyu.” I chuckled, raising my eyebrows and making him glance at me.

“You sound so sure…why not?”

“Because it’s me asking.” Mingyu’s finger paused mid-air and he gulped before nodding his head wordlessly. It’s moments like this one that give me hope, hope that he still feels something for me. Even if it’s been five years. It was enough time for us to get over the other, but having to spend so much time together again made me realize that I wasn’t even far from being over him. Maybe it’s the memories we share, the time spent together, the pleasant moments, the hardships or the person I shaped into while being with him, but it was really hard to look at him and not feel something more than just platonic feelings. It came as a shock after we finished high school to find out that Joohyun and Wonwoo have been dating for two years in secret. No one ever saw it coming, they never left any hints for us to pick up on, it just seemed like they got along due to Mingyu and I dating and always being together. Turns out, they were dating too at the same time with us, except their relationship worked out. And I couldn’t have been happier, they were perfect for each other and they blessed us with little Jieun, the sweetest kid. When Jieun turned two, Joohyun and Wonwoo decided to get married and tie the knot for a lifetime. I was a little jealous when we got the news of their marriage, I always thought I’d be the one to get married first as Joohyun was closed off and wasn’t ever interested in dating or having a family. I guess it was just a matter of time and person.

My eyes widened when the camera made a sound, this time directed at me. Mingyu was grinning as he kept snapping picture after picture and I raised my middle finger at him while sticking my tongue out.

“Hey!” He gave me a glare before turning the camera back to Jieun, snapping a picture of her as she was playing with the flowers, making a crown for herself, “Look at this!”

Mingyu’s canines showed again as his grin spread bigger, he scooted closer, “Joohyun will love this shot!”

It was a close up of Jieun, she was crouched down with yellow flowers in her hands, her dark hair falling around her shoulders and lips in a soft pout. I smiled and looked at Mingyu, “Why don’t you drop the gym and turn into a professional photographer? You are so talented.”

“Y/N,” He gave me a grin and a scoff, as if I already knew the answer, “You know photography is just a hobby for me—”

“Doesn’t it pay better than that smelly gym you work at?” I interrupted him with my eyebrows raised. He chuckled and shook his head as he turned around to take more pictures of the nature.

“Smelly or not, I really like working there…” He muttered and Jieun shrieked, alerting us.

“Jieun?” I asked loudly, eyebrows raised when she turned around, she was holding something brown between her fingers.

“It’s a caterpillar!” She exclaimed excitedly, waving the small animal between her fingers.

“Say hi and put it back into the earth, okay?” I called back and Mingyu snorted as he looked up from his camera.

“This one goes for Wonwoo…” He grinned to himself, looking at me, “His daughter ain’t a pussy like your sister—”

“Mingyu!” I threw him a glare and punched his arm, “Irene hates every little insect, you know that. It’s not her fault—”

“It technically is though.” He gave me a pouty look and I snorted and shook my head. I extended my arms over my head and stretched, hearing the camera go off again, before laying down on the blanket. I groaned loudly as the tension eased from my lower back and I relaxed into the earth, closing my eyes to breathe in deeply the warm air. It was tranquil, the moment felt nice, Jieun’s laughter and chatter faded nicely into the background. I let my muscles relax and enjoy the moment of calmness, that is until weight was dumped on me. I yelped loudly, eyes opening and muscles tensing as I went to sit up but Mingyu’s hand pushed me back down.

“Don’t get up!” He exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed, “Why’d you move?!”

I threw him a glare as I watched him whine more, pushing his ass against my pelvis and sitting on me.

“Mingyu, I don’t know if anyone has made you aware of this, but you are heavy!” I exclaimed again, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“I won’t get off until you give me the same expression you did a few seconds ago—”

“How can I do that when a man is literally crushing me?” I raised my eyebrows and Mingyu scoffed, pushing up onto his knees but still straddling me.

“Happy?”

“Not until you completely get off.” I gave him a sweet smile and Mingyu threw me a glare as Jieun’s loud laughter came from behind him.

“Why are you sitting on auntie?” She asked giggling.

“Good question, Jieun, I think he wants to crush auntie—”

“I was just trying to take a picture of auntie, Jieun, but she’s stubborn and wants to upset me.” Mingyu said pouting, giving Jieun a sad look.

“Well, hurry up auntie then, I want to go inside—I’m tired.” Just as she finished speaking, she yawned and pouted.

“Five more minutes and we go take a nap, okay?” I smiled at Jieun and she nodded before running back to the swing. I looked back up at Mingyu and gulped as I stared into his eyes, the butterflies in my stomach kicking off.

“Make it quick, okay?” I sighed out and closed my eyes, willing my body to relax and let go. Forget that Mingyu is straddling me and dangling his camera in my face like all those times when we were still dating. The camera went off and so did my heart, it started beating faster and faster as all the memories swam in my mind tauntingly.

The basketball court was full of students as everyone was in recess. I was sitting with my friends on a bench underneath a tree to hide from the blazing sun as we all ate our lunch and gazed out onto the field, where the basketball team was shooting around. All guys were tall, the team consisted of mostly juniors and seniors, but Yuto, a guy my age, made it into the team due to his height.

“Ah!” Yuna exclaimed next to me, eyes following a boy, “Look at Wonwoo! He’s so handsome!”

“He’s a good player…” I muttered as I finished up my lunch.

“He could be the worst and I’d still love him!” Yuna mused and the rest of our friends agreed with her. I rolled my eyes when someone from behind us scoffed.

“So, you only watch the basketball team because the players are handsome?” The voice was sharp and I rolled my eyes, turning to face my sister.

“You’re still moody?” I asked her and she shook her head, coming to stand in front of me and blocking my view of the field.

“No, I passed my chemistry test, I’m feeling better.” She gave me a wide grin and extended her arm. She was holding a small cartoon of chocolate milk and my eyes lit up.

“Unnie!” I gave her a big grin and stood up to give her a brief hug, “Thank you!”

“Yeah, mom told me you forgot to pack one.”

“You’re the best.” Joohyun chuckled and pinched my cheek aggressively.

“You only say that when I give you something or do something for you—”

“Joohyun—” My friends shrieked and both Joohyun and I jumped as a ball hit my sister’s back. She hissed and turned sharply, the ball bouncing on the ground.

“Joohyun—” My friends started but Wonwoo running over shut them up quickly.

“Are you okay?” His deep voice was laced with worry and Joohyun glared the boy down. She was a lot shorter but her gaze could always make her seem powerful and scary. She leaned down wordlessly and picked the basketball up.

“Be careful next time, Wonwoo.” Her voice was soft, a contrast to the look on her face.

“Sorry, Joohyun.” Wonwoo bowed his head a bit, hands extending to take the ball from my sister. She glanced down at the ball before handing it over, their hands brushing against each other and small smiles appearing on their faces. The snap of a camera distracted me from throwing a suspicious look at the two in front of me. A tall guy, taller than Wonwoo, was holding up a camera to his left eye as he grinned.

“Yah! Kim Mingyu!” I exclaimed, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Yah! Bae Y/N!” He imitated my voice, pushing his lips out into an exaggerated pout.

“I don’t look like that!” I snapped at him with a glare as Mingyu walked closer.

“Yes, you do.” He taunted, the camera hanging at his side. Wonwoo and Joohyun chuckled behind me and I glanced back to see them lost in their own conversation.

“Stop pouting, you’re too cute.” Mingyu cooed and I punched his bicep as he started leaning down.

“Why do you keep taking pictures of me—” My words got muffled when Mingyu pressed a small kiss against my lips, a smile appearing on my lips.

“What were you complaining about?” He whispered as he pulled back just a little bit, making my smile widen.

“Nothing.” I muttered and as I went to press another kiss against his lips, his camera went off again. My eyes snapped open to find Mingyu giggling as he was looking down at the picture he took, cheeks rosy.

“Yah! Kim Mingyu!” I exclaimed and raised my arm to punch his arm again but he suddenly jumped back. He stuck his tongue out and I glared at him.

“You two are so immature.” I heard Wonwoo saying from behind me.

“He won’t stop taking pictures of me!” I snapped, watching as Mingyu was slowly raising his camera up again, “Don’t you dare—”

Snap. Oh, that’s it, he asked for it. I took off running towards him but Mingyu just giggled loudly and took off too, running ahead of me.

“You can’t catch me!” He shouted as he turned his head before running faster.

“Screw your long legs!” I shouted after him as I chased him around the basketball field, underneath the blazing sun.

“I love you!” He shouted while trying to take more pictures of me, almost falling when he tripped on a rock.

“You’re an idiot!” I screamed after him, laughing when he almost fell, “I love you!”

“I know you do!” He winked cockily and slowed his running, making me think I’d finally catch up. But when he was in arms reach, he sped up again while cackling evilly. I let out a frustrated cry and continued chasing him, unphased by the looks the students were giving us.

The click of the camera brought me back to the present and I opened my eyes to find Mingyu with his eyebrows raised and a small smile on his lips. His personality didn’t change much since high school but his looks did. It’s not like that mattered much, I didn’t like him for his looks, it was his personality that drew me in at first. His looks were just a plus.

“I want to go in!” Jieun came running to us, whining loudly.

“We are going.” I smiled at her as she looked down at me with a pout and I looked up at Mingyu with raised eyebrows. He blinked and looked at me for a second before he realized he was straddling me, so he got off and helped me off the blanket as well.

“Can you please clean up? I have a Yoga class in half an hour.” I said after looking at my wrist watch.

“And Jieun?” Mingyu asked as he started gathering the things we gathered on the blanket.

“I’ll put her to sleep, don’t worry about her.” I gave Jieun a smile and crouched down, opening my arms, “Do you want auntie to carry you to your room?”

“Yes!” Jieun exclaimed, her droopy eyes widening as she climbed into my arms quickly. I patted her back and walked inside the house, towards her room upstairs.

        Jieun took longer than I expected to fall asleep, leaving me ten minutes to get ready for my Yoga class. I closed her door carefully after drawing her curtains closed and raced into the master bedroom, opening Joohyun’s closet. We go to Yoga class twice a week together so I have my clothes here, in case, I don’t have time to go home from the studio. We were supposed to go together today but since I had to be at the studio, we decided to postpone it. Thankfully, our Yoga instructor does online classes in the afternoon for those who couldn’t attend it in the morning. I quickly got dressed in my olive khaki green leggings and matching sports bra, rushing downstairs quietly, to Joohyun’s study room, where we kept our mattresses. She had enough space in her office, so I decided to lay out the Yoga mat underneath the window and quickly turned on her laptop, logging onto the platform of my instructor. In the big rush, I forgot to close the door and I could hear Mingyu coming and going from the garden, bringing everything inside like I asked him to do. I pulled my hair in a low ponytail and took a comfortable seat on the mat as the instructor started the class.

“Good afternoon!” She greeted with a big smile on her lips, her voice raspy but honey-like, “Good to see some familiar faces around; Y/N…”

I smiled and turned on the microphone, “Nice to see you! Joohyun and I couldn’t make it in the morning, we were both busy.”

“Is she not joining us today?” The instructor asked as more cameras got turned on, there was a total of ten people in today’s class.

“No, she’s not at home, at the moment.” I answered her and as the backdoor was closed, loud singing rang through the hallway. Mingyu’s deep voice bounced around the quiet house and my eyes widened as I quickly shut off my microphone, embarrassed when I saw some ladies smiling through their cameras. I glanced out in the hallway as Mingyu passed by the office, unaware that I was inside, as he bobbed his head to his own rhythm while he continued singing. Did he forget I put Jieun to sleep? He’s going to wake her up. But before I could quickly go and shut him up and close the door to the office, our instructor alerted us that we were starting the session.

“I prepared a relaxing Yoga sequence for today, a thirteen-minute-long practice,” She said with a smile as we took a comfortable seat in Lotus pose, “It’s the middle of the week, but we might be feeling burned out a little bit. I know that I do!”

I chuckled as I straightened my back, aligning head over heart, and heart over pelvis, “You can turn on your microphones as we are about to take deep breaths together, let us hear each other.”

I quickly reached over and turned on the microphone, as did the other ladies, whom I were familiar with from other classes, “Good, now let’s take five deep breaths in, tuck your chins, straighten your backs and close your eyes, empty your mind.”

I did as I was told, willing my muscles to relax as everyone took deep five breaths, emptying our lungs out loudly. It was a relaxing motion and it always helped me focus on the task I was about to do, my mind was a buzzing place 24/7. But my tranquil moment ended when Mingyu’s voice rose a few octaves and he started sputtering words after words. I opened one eye to see if the others could hear him as well, but upon seeing no reaction, I quickly closed my eye and took one more deep breath to relax again.

“Let us stretch our side bodies now.” With eyes open, I followed the instructor, breathing deeply still, “This is a great moment to take a step back from your busy lives and reflect on yourselves. Get lost in the silence and the guidance of my voice, trust your bodies and meet me in a tabletop position.”

I smiled and slowly moved into the position, cracking my lower back in the process, “Let’s do three rounds of cat and cow now, everyone following their own rhythm. We are not here to rush today.”

Closing my eyes, I arched my back into a cow position, letting out a quiet sigh when a few vertebras popped, then starting from the tailbone, I curled up into a cat position. I did that two more times while breathing deep, hearing the other ladies do the same calmed my nerves a little bit. I got lost in my own world, finally, blocking out sounds from the outside that didn’t serve me in this moment.

“On your next breath in, bring your big toes together and widen your knees as big as your mat, then meet me in extended child’s pose, with active fingers.” The instructor spoke up, and we followed, “Let’s wake up the muscles in our upper backs while opening our heart space, okay?”

The skin of my lower back and upper back were getting a good stretch as I gently rocked from side to side at the hips, loosening up the tight joints, breathing deeply.

“Make your next inhale the longest breath you’ve taken all day long and, on your exhale, let go of everything that doesn’t serve you by using lion’s breath,” I filled my lungs with air to the brim and paused at the top for three second before sticking my tongue out, eyes looking at my third eye and letting all the air out, similar sighs coming through the laptop.

“Carefully moving, let’s meet in downward dog, but only proceed from a tabletop position.” I raised back into a tabletop position and carefully, knees bent and arms placed at a wide distance on the map, I raised into a downward dog position, heels coming down on the earth.

“Let’s pedal it out,” The instructor said, “Your heels don’t have to come down to the earth straight away, pedal them out first, feel your muscles stretch and when you did all that, grow heavy in your heels and come to a still position for three deep cleansing breaths.”

I moved my legs as if I was walking, in one place, pedaling them out and sighing out when my hamstrings got the stretch they so desperately needed. I ground my heels down and stilled my movements, taking deep breaths. As I took in my last set of deep breath, the floor creaked in the doorway and I opened my eyes, seeing Mingyu upside down from this position, standing in the doorway. His jaw was hung open but when we made eye-contact, a wide smirk spread on his lips.

“Damn,” He muttered as he leaned against the doorframe, “If you only had this ass back in high school too—”

I gasped as my cheeks flushed, the sudden laughter coming from the laptop making Mingyu jump. His eyes widened as he looked towards the screen, and as I lowered from the downward dog, I caught the faint tint of red on his cheeks. The ladies were still giggling, the instructor’s eyebrows raised curiously.

“Uh—I’m really sorry—he didn’t know my microphone was on—”

“Good evening, ladies,” Mingyu smiled charmingly, they could see him well through the camera, “Sorry for interrupting, I’ll quickly head out.”

“Now, now,” The instructor said with a chuckle as Mingyu slowly left, throwing me a smirk that made me glare at him, “We needed that laughter, didn’t we, ladies?”

There was a chorus of agreements and my cheeks flushed again as I chuckled in embarrassment, “Sorry, he’s—”

“A charming young man, indeed,” The instructor interrupted me with a small smile, “let’s try to focus once again though and repeat our downward dog before we proceed with our practice.”

And we did proceed with our relaxing practice, but the problem was I couldn’t relax with Mingyu continuously walking in and out of Irene’s study room and always whispering things at me. At first, he was asking for some books Wonwoo recommended him to read, then he took a seat on Irene’s couch and started reading out loud but in a whisper, meanwhile I kept throwing glares at him. Does he know he’s supposed to leave me alone? By the time the class took an end I wasn’t anywhere relaxed, instead I was angry and irritated. The practice was supposed to make me feel light and relaxed but due to Mingyu bothering me, it didn’t work out. When we were talking leisurely after we finished the practice, Mingyu dangled his head into the camera. The ladies started laughing again and he had a heartful conversation with my Yoga instructor, to which he even got an invitation to her class after he complained about his muscles being stiff after a long day at the gym. When we were saying our goodbye’s, a lady had the audacity to call Mingyu and I, a cute and playful couple, which I wanted to deny but before I could, Mingyu was nodding and thanking her making my heart pump quickly. Once the call was over, Mingyu sat back on the couch and I proceeded to roll up Irene’s mat and placed it back to its place, throwing a glare at a grinning Mingyu. My eyes fell on the book he tormented me with and I took it in my hand and whacked him over the head.

“Hey!” He exclaimed and started rubbing his head, “What are you doing?!”

“What are you doing?!” I snapped, crossing my arms in front of my chest, “I took the Yoga class to relax a little bit but thanks to you I just became more irritated!”

“You did?” He raised his eyebrows and I went to whack him again but he caught my arm and quickly jumped up, “Okay, okay, I get it! Sorry, I won’t do it next time!”

“Of course, you won’t. There’s no next time.” I rolled my eyes and let Mingyu take the book from me and place it back onto the shelf.

“What are you saying?” He asked with a chuckle, becoming amused when I sighed and looked at him expectantly, “I got an invitation to your instructor’s next class and I’m definitely not going to miss it—”

“Hell, no.” I snapped and turned around to leave the office, but not before opening the window to let fresh air in, “So that you torment me there too? No, thank you.”

“Come on! I won’t!” Mingyu whined as he followed after me, closing the door behind me, “I’ll take it seriously!”

“You won’t, I know you too well, Kim Mingyu.” I said with a snort as I started walking up the stairs, Mingyu still following close behind.

“Please?” He looked at me with puppy eyes when I glanced back, “I’ll let you drive me around, okay?”

“As if I want to do that.” I scoffed as I walked to the master bedroom to get my clothes before I head to shower.

“I know you do,” A smirk crossed Mingyu’s lips as he blocked my way, “I heard from Wonwoo you bought a new Mercedes, I just know you’re dying to show it off to me.”

“Am not.” I said with a scoff, biting my lip afterwards. Oh, and how right he is, I can’t wait to pick him up from work and drive him here, in my new light turquoise Mansory S-Class Cabriolet, the next time we are having dinner with Joohyun, Wonwoo, and Jieun.

“You do,” Mingyu cooed and I rolled my eyes as I side stepped him, heading out the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom.

“Now, stay quiet and don’t wake Jieun, I want to shower.”

“Go, go,” Mingyu ushered me inside the bathroom, gripping the handle, “Relax now, since you couldn’t while doing Yoga.”

“Dickhead—” He cut me off by closing the door in my face and I could hear his giggles as he walked away, his footsteps still loud. I groaned and quickly put my hair in a bun, turning on the warm water in the shower stall. The bathroom upstairs was bigger and it was divided in two in such way that if someone was showering another person could still come in because you wouldn’t see them, as the shower stall was just behind the other wall.

       And there’s a reason why I usually avoid showering upstairs. It’s so big that the person won’t even hear the running water and often times would walk in, it happened with both Joohyun and Wonwoo while I showered, when they newly bought the house. Like I said, they still couldn’t see you, but the thought alone was enough to drive me away from showering upstairs and just using the downstairs shower. And that same thing happened while I was massaging an exfoliating soap onto my skin. The door opened and I heard feet thudding inside loudly.

“Jieun?” I called out, straining my ears to hear the person inside, “Did you have a nightmare and wake up? Mingyu is downstairs sweety, I’m showering, you can go to him—”

“Yeah,” My eyes widened at the male voice and I quickly turned around in the shower stall, making sure he didn’t already approach me, “Mingyu is upstairs, actually.”

“What the hell are you doing inside, Mingyu?!” I exclaimed, frozen as I listened closely, “I’m showering!”

“Uh, yeah, I know, you told me and I hear the water running—”

“What the fuck are you doing inside then?!” I exclaimed again, eyebrows furrowing when Mingyu cursed loudly.

“Fuck, I stubbed my toe!” He hissed and I scoffed as I quickly rinsed off the soap, “And I know, but I was bored downstairs alone…”

“So, you just come and intrude on a woman while she’s showering? Because that’s fine?” I snapped; eyebrows raised even if he couldn’t see me. I heard the toilet making sounds and realized Mingyu closed the lid and sat on top of it.

“Hey, don’t make me sound like a creep!”

“You are being a creep right now, though.” I pointed out as I took my regular, tropical scented, body lotion and spread it on my body.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I can’t even see anything, you know that, I just—” He let out a long sigh and my eyebrows raised as I paused.

“You just, what?” I asked curiously as I let the warm water wash off the body lotion.

“I was wondering, like, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, actually, you know…” There was a pause as Mingyu cleared his throat before he continued, “Just…after we broke up, you know…did you date anyone else? Like, had a boyfriend, girlfriend, or something…”

My eyebrows furrowed at the odd question, not expecting it from Mingyu, we never talked about relationships or partners. We always stayed away from the topic that involved our personal lives for multiple reasons, so it was a surprise that he finally asked about it, especially when I was showering.

“I mean…” I let out a breath, standing underneath the warm water, “It’s been five years since we…broke up, so…yeah. I had…three…boyfriends.”

“Oh,” Mingyu sounded surprised and I grimaced waiting for him to continue speaking, “Yeah, I had a lot of flings during college, then a serious girlfriend that lasted for a year only, so…”

He chuckled, but I could hear he didn’t take it lightly, it bothered him that it didn’t work out. Something was bothering him still; I could hear it in his voice.

“Well, you know, I don’t know if Joohyun and Wonwoo talked about me and if they did and Wonwoo told you, but…” I took a deep breath and turned off the water, reaching for the long towel, “You pretty much broke my heart, no joke.”

Mingyu remained quiet as I placed the towel around my body and secured it tightly at my breasts, “I don’t blame you now, with this mentality, and I don’t hate you either anymore.”

We both chuckled at the same time and Mingyu sighed as we both stayed put where we were standing, “Honestly, I was a big dick back then. Breaking up with you because I wanted to get the whole college experience—I was a fucking idiot, to be honest.”

“You still are…” I muttered and Mingyu chuckled before he sighed again, “Actually…you know, how I was supposed to come with a plus one to my sister and Wonwoo’s wedding?”

“Yeah, and then you showed up with—”

“Minghao,” We said at the same time.

“Yeah, Minghao, and everyone was fucking confused from your family.” Mingyu continued talking, “Even Wonwoo…I still don’t get what the fuss was about.”

“I was supposed to come with my fiancé—”

“Fiancé?!” Mingyu choked out and I giggled, “You had a fiancé at the age of twenty-one, what the fuck?! And you didn’t tell me?!”

“We met when I was nineteen, actually, but back then I was kinda playing around with two guys, you know…still not over you, dickhead, but then him and I got closer and we got engaged three months before the wedding.” I explained, enjoying when Mingyu gasped.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know?” I asked with a chuckle, leaning my head against the wet tiles of the shower stall, “We realized we were too different? I don’t know, honestly, but I’m glad we broke up. I don’t think we were a good match.”

“Yeah, I’m glad too.” I scoffed and I heard shuffling, meaning Mingyu stood up, “Why did even Vernon show up at the wedding? He wasn’t even invited—”

“Two drunk calls from Minghao and I were enough to bring him around—”

“And then I had to drive the three of you home, yeah, I remember.” Mingyu didn’t sound amused and I started laughing.

“Well, if you were dumb enough to come by car and not with a cab like everyone else…”

“Yeah, whatever,” Mingyu scoffed and he cleared his throat again and hesitated to speak, “So, uhm, I was thinking…let’s go on a date?”

I blinked once and then twice and paused. Kim Mingyu was asking me on a date? Or was I hallucinating?

“I really should have waited after you finished showering, not seeing your face is frustrating.” He groaned to himself and I chuckled.

“To your information, I’m gaping right now,” Mingyu chuckled and I pursed my lips, “You want to go on a date with me?”

“Yeah, I think we are both mature enough to start things over, if we wanted to,” He sighed and I licked my lips, pushing off from the wall, “At least, I want to if you’re not against it.”

��Did spending your day with me make you nostalgic, Kim Mingyu?” I asked with a chuckle and he just hummed. I didn’t know how to feel. Did I still have feelings for him? Yes. Did he hurt me already once? Yes. But as he said, we are adults now, we view things differently now. I’m still unsure however.

“I can’t give you an answer right now,” I decided to be honest with him, he deserved it, “Give me time to think.”

He hummed quietly and I knew he wasn’t expecting that answer and he was disappointed, but he quickly spoke up, “I’ll go wake Jieun so that we can prepare dinner together.”

And he was out of the bathroom, leaving me alone with my conflicting thoughts. Did I want to go on a date with him? Yes. Was I afraid we wouldn’t work out anymore and I’d lose him forever? Yes.

        After Jieun woke up, the three of us went downstairs and prepared dinner together, spending a good hour in the kitchen. But it still wasn’t dinner time so we snuggled up on the couch in the living room and watched a family movie together, Mingyu bringing us a big blanket to keep us warm. Jieun was snuggled up into his side, putting Mingyu into the middle, and I threw him a curious glance when he kept shifting around, until his arm was around my shoulders and his body was leaning onto mine.

“It’s comfier.” He whispered, keeping his eyes on the TV and I shook my head before looking back towards the TV and feeling my cheeks heat up. It felt nice being snuggled up next to him, his warmth enveloping mine and creating a feeling of calmness and safety. If there was a feeling I missed after Mingyu left me, it was the safety I felt whenever I was with him. His bigger body and the way he carried himself and even interacted when he was with me made it obvious to me that he’d do anything to keep me safe and that I shouldn’t worry. So, in the middle of the movie I cleared my throat and glanced up at him to see him already looking down at me.

“Let’s go on that date.” I whispered quietly at him and instantly Mingyu was grinning from ear to ear, squeezing my shoulder tightly for a few seconds before he sighed out happily. I chuckled and placed a palm against his beating hart, cheeks flushing when I felt his quick pulse. A feeling of fulfilment filled my senses and I couldn’t help the smile spreading onto my own lips.

       After the movie was over, the moon was high up in the sky, and we headed to the kitchen to have dinner. Jieun excitedly told us stories about her encounters with other kids in kindergarten and how she kept tricking her nanny into giving her candy without her mom and dad knowing. Dinner was filled with giggles and Mingyu throwing me glances every few minutes, eyes warm and happy. Jieun even pointed it out at some point, asking us if we were hiding a secret or surprise from her. When we reassured her that no, we weren’t, she pouted and settled on finishing her dinner quietly while Mingyu and I conversed about what we did the one month we didn’t meet up, laughing at the memories we shared in high school when one brought it up randomly. After dinner, Jieun had a warm bubble bath and I braided her hair in two, helping her into her pajamas before Mingyu and I tucked her in bed. We were both sitting on each side of her bed, her bedside lap turned on and we chatted for a little while, until she fell asleep.

“You know,” Jieun muttered sleepily, her eyes already closed, “Uncle and auntie act just like dad and mommy. Will you have babies too? I’ll have someone to play with forever…”

Mingyu and I shared a look as I chuckled and leaned over Jieun, cradling her cheek, “Auntie and uncle aren’t like that, Jieun. There’s men and women who are just friends, who love each other but never make babies, because it’s not that kind of love, you know?”

“Don’t worry, Jieunie,” Mingyu leaned closer too, a devilish smirk crossing his lips, “Uncle will convince auntie to make babies so that you’ll have someone to play with, okay?”

Jieun’s eyes opened and she grinned widely as I threw Mingyu a glare, “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise!”

“Hey!” I exclaimed quietly as the two pinky promised in front of me with grins on their lips as if I wasn’t even there, “It’s not that easy to make babies—”

“We’ll figure it out.” Mingyu cut me off with a wink and I scoffed, leaning down and kissing Jieun’s cheek.

“Sweet dreams, angel.”

“Sweet dreams, chipmunk.” Jieun grinned as Mingyu pressed a quick kiss against her forehead and then we got up, turned off her bedside lamp and turned on her fairy lights. Quietly closing her door, we descended down the stairs and I could feel Mingyu smirking next to me, his hand continuously brushing against mine.

“Stop giving Jieun false hope, dickhead.” I snapped finally, making Mingyu giggled. He was expecting my reaction, as we walked back to the living room.

“I was being serious, Bae.” I groaned as Mingyu turned on the TV, putting on some random movie as we sat down on the couch, pulling the blanket over us again. We remained silent during the movie, enjoying the presence of the other, and my heart started racing when Mingyu interlaced his fingers with mine underneath the blanket and placed our hands on his thigh. I didn’t realize I wanted this until it happened, and I couldn’t be gladder. Because in this world, there was no one like Kim Mingyu, and he was mine.

My one and only true love.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Red Hood (Part 1)

Summary: While on a job, the reader runs into The Red Hood. She discovers his true identity to be Dean Winchester from one of the wealthiest families in the city. She knows he’s made a few enemies and tries to take advantage of that fact to get something she needs in return...

Masterlist

Pairing: Vigilante!Dean x criminal!reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language, fighting

A/N: Enjoy!

________

“Oh, crap,” you said, feeling the binding around your torso. You thought you’d made it out clean. But if it was someone using a gadget like that, it wasn’t any security guard. You grunted as you saw a figure emerge from the shadows, a hood up and a mask covering his eyes. “Let me walk and you can have the money.”

“Not my style,” he said. He walked over carefully, tilting his head at you. His cautious approach stopped when he suddenly stepped over and ripped the mask covering your face off. You scowled at him but he simply stared. “I’m taking you in.”

He bent down and you used the opportunity to swing your legs up and wrap around his neck. He went wide eyed and glared at you but you smirked.

“Goodnight Mr. Vigilante,” you said. He tried pulling you off but he lost consciousness quickly. You let him drop to the ground and moved your leg back, managing to grab the knife in your boot. You sliced through the lower bindings and eventually got the ropes off. You almost left when you saw the unconscious Red Hood on the ground. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little blackmail after all. You pulled out your phone and pushed down his hood, ripping off the mask over his eyes. You took a few pictures of the man, something familiar about him.

You grinned when you recognized him as the ward of the biggest tech company in the city. 

If you played your cards right, a week from now you’d be loaded and sipping mai tais on the beach, never having to worry about pulling a job ever again.

“Shit!” you shouted the next evening, jumping straight back into your counter. The Red Hood was standing silently at the edge of your kitchen, narrowing his eyes at you. He threw down a manila envelope on the counter and stalked over to you.

“I don’t negotiate with criminals,” he said.

“I don’t think it’d look too good if Dean Winchester were to be found out as The Red Hood. With all the crimes you’ve committed yourself. I bet that’d ruin a few of your family’s contracts,” you said. You reached up to grab his hood when he caught your wrist. “I felt I was very generous with my offer.”

“Fifty million is generous?” he scoffed. He shoved your wrist away and put his back to you, tugging his hood back. He slipped his eye mask down around his neck and glanced over his shoulder. “I should throw you in prison.”

“For stealing from rich people? They can afford it just like you can afford this. Take it out of your trust fund. I bet no one would even notice,” you said.

“What do you need that much money for?”

“What do you need it for? None of your business.”

“The answer is no.”

“Then I guess your photo of you out cold at a crime scene in your little costume will be on the news very, very shortly.”

“It’s an excessive amount,” he said.

“Your family is billionaires. You got the cash.”

“I can’t move that much without red flags.”

“Figure it out.”

“I could just make you disappear,” he said, stepping in front of you. “You couldn’t stop me.”

“You only murder the bad guys and unfortunately for you, I just steal things and knock people out. It’s not justified. Your old partner, that bat guy, even he didn’t kill people,” you said.

“He let me down, more than once. I do things the way they need to be done,” he said. “Don’t think because you’re a woman you get special treatment.”

“Wouldn’t expect it,” you said. “Give me my money and you will never hear from me again.”

“Five million.”

“No way.”

“Five million a month for the next ten months,” he said. “It won’t raise too many eyes. I can justify a cost for that.”

“Fifty. One payment,” you said, crossing your arms.

“What the hell do you need with that much money?”

“Maybe I want to donate to charity. It’s not your concern. You have three days to get my money into that bank account. If you don’t, you and your entire family’s business are going down. Have I made myself clear?”

“I will find all copies and when I do, you’re gonna have a big problem. Count on it.”

He went out your back door and you rolled your eyes, already making plans to have extra copies out there just in case.

Three Days Later

“You’re good,” said Marcus. You stared at him and he smiled. “You’re clean kid. Debt repaid with interest. Your family is safe again. Any interest in working for me again? You’ll get to keep some of the profits now.”

“I’m not meant for this line of work,” you said. “Lose my number?”

“You’re not as bad as you think. Just got a pesky conscious. Enjoy retirement,” he said. You hummed and quickly left, taking a deep breath. 

Half an hour later you were heading to the airport with five million dollars in your bank account and ready to go start over.

Two Days Later

“Nice view,” said a voice behind you. You sat up from your chair by the pool, staring up at Dean as he smiled. “Nice house. A little smaller than I was expecting for fifty million dollars in the bank. If you had fifty million that was. More like five now, hm?”

“I still have copies,” you said as he sat in the chair beside you.

“Oh, I know,” he said, stealing your drink. “Whoa, fruity and a lot of rum.”

“What do you want?”

“My plan was to hunt you down and get my money back and get you to give up the copies and get you thrown in prison. But I’ve had a change of heart.”

“Really. Just like that.”

“If you told me innocent lives were in danger, I could have been a lot nicer. Marcus is an unforgiving criminal. But even he could let a mistake go for forty five million, right?”

“I owed him ten. The thirty five was interest. I screwed up a job when I wouldn’t kill a guard. He lost the pay. I started working for him most every night to pay it off. If I didn’t, he’d deal with my family over on the other coast. He’s connected enough to have them watched. For forty five million, they are safe.”

“Sounds like you owe me five million dollars,” he said, holding out his hand. “Fork it over.”

“I can’t live there anymore. I need to be out of that city,” you said.

“You’ll come back eventually. But you owe me five million dollars,” he said. You dropped your head and sighed, resting your head in your hands. “Or you can give me every single copy of the photos and agree to never steal another thing in your life and in exchange, I will pretend you didn’t take five million for yourself.”

“Are you serious?” you said, snapping your head up. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Why would you do that?”

“Why didn’t you tell Marcus who I was? That would have cleared whatever you owed and then some,” he said. You shrugged and he smiled. “I have a sneaking suspicion you’re a good person. Don’t worry, I won’t tell the other criminals.”

You reached to your left and grabbed your phone, deleting the picture and then permanently deleting it again.

“You never had copies,” he said.

“Nope. You could have taken my phone and that would have been that.”

“Then I guess that settles that,” he said. “Nice place to retire to.”

“Yup,” you said.

“Mind if I crash here? Considering I bought this place and all.”

“Why are you staying here?”

“I did something yesterday. My old partner called me up, told me I ought to take a break for a bit. He had some valid points,” he said. “No one’s ever knocked me out before.”

“I have many skills,” you said. He chuckled and stretched out his body.

“I bet you do. So am I staying?”

“You can stay if you get me a refill,” you said, taking the glass from him and drinking the rest of the liquid. You held it out to him and he sat up.

“Alright. Don’t go running off on me again.”

“I think this time I’ll stay put.”

“Glad to hear it, sweetheart.”

“For now.”

“Oh really? Where you thinking of going?”

“Home to Gotham. Eventually,” you said. He stared at you and glanced down, nodding to himself.

“How about a nice vacation in the meantime?” he asked.

“After you. Sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[whoopsieintheuniverse]

Dinner or Disaster?

Illumi x Reader (part 3)

AN: ITS HERE! It’s finally here and hopefully it won’t take me that long to update ever again. Also, I tried my best to really capture the emotional whiplash the Zoldycks undoubtedly put each other and and outsiders through, and it was really fun. Hope yall enjoy it. 

Silva drummed his fingers on his lap. In front of him stood his wife, Kikyo, in her usual huffed up state. By her side clung Kalluto, and Silva made a point of darting his eyes in greeting to his youngest. Kalluto seemed off put by his father’s action, and quickly averted his eyes to the floor. 

‘Need to do better about that,’ Silva thought to himself. 

“Honestly, Silva! It’s ridiculous! Do you even hear me?” Kikyo squawked above Silva’s head, drawing him back to the “discussion” at hand. 

“Yes, Kikyo. I hear you.” 

“Then intervene! This is completely unacceptable! First, I just thought it was simple infatuation, an innocent little thing that all boys do, but now? It’s gotten out of hand! Our son, Silva, with a member of the help!” Kikyo was all but yelling, cheeks puffed and red. 

Silva sighed and stretched out his arms before placing them on his head. Kalluto peeked from behind his mother, tilting his head at the gesture he had only seen Killua do. He cracked a small smile at his father’s reclining figure. Silva cut his eyes to the side, making eye contact with his son again. Kalluto tilted his head, wanting to speak, only to be cut off by his mother again.  

“Silva!” Kikyo stomped her foot. “That is it. I want to meet them. Y/N wants to be a part of the family, so be it! We’re having a family dinner tonight.” 

“Now Kikyo, are you sure about this? It might not be the smartest-” Silva was cut off by the thwack of his wife’s fan splaying out in front of her face. Silva watched as Kikyo turned on her heel and scooped up Kalluto all at once, exiting the room. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Illumi swore he would never give himself over to anger, but now, he felt his blood start to boil. Silva looked at his son and down at his father, who wanted to be present when Silva gave his son the news of his mother’s decision. 

“Illumi. You seem...tense. Surely you’re not stressed over dinner,” Zeno said. Illumi cut his eyes at his grandfather, who chuckled in response. 

“Now Dad, give him a break. I’m not so sure about this either,” Silva rumbled behind them. The three men were sitting at the dining room table, waiting for the rest of the family to arrive. 

“You have told Y/N, correct?” Silva asked Illumi. Illumi nodded. 

“They weren’t amused. I’m not amused either,” Illumi said. 

“Oh, now what’s the trouble? I’m excited for the opportunity to meet whoever’s had the luck to be inducted into the family next,” Zeno said. Silva looked down at his father and rolled his eyes. 

“Take what he’s saying with a grain of salt, Illumi,” Silva said. Suddenly, the door to the room creaked open, drawing the attention of the men. 

“I’m terribly sorry!” Y/N bowed low and averted their eyes from the three Zoldycks. A scoff was heard from Illumi and his chair scraped against the floor as he stood. 

“I’ve already told you, stop that. Stand up straight,” Illumi said. Zeno chuckled as Illumi grabbed Y/N by the arm and sat her down at the table. Y/N shifted in their seat as Silva and Zeno’s eyes bored down at them. 

“So you’re the one stirring up all this commotion in the family, hm? I’ve seen you around the grounds, haven’t I?” Zeno asked. 

Y/N nodded. 

“Yes sir. I’ve worked on the estate for a short time now.” 

“You know, we don’t let our butlers have personal relationships,” Silva rumbled. Y/N closed their eyes as the weight of that rule came crashing down on them again.

 Illumi huffed. 

“I’ve already told you all. Y/N’s contract has been terminated. Their contract was terminated once I decided I wanted to court them. It’s simple,” Illumi said. Y/N looked over at Illumi, who had his arms crossed. Silence fell over the room, only to be broken by Zeno’s cackle. 

“Well, isn’t this grand? Tell me, Y/N, is it? Do you think you’re ready to join the family? I don’t think you will be after this dinner,” Zeno said. 

Y/N sighed. 

“I think that this whole chain of events is a bit asinine, but I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Y/N crossed their arms. Silva’s eyes glinted from Illumi to Y/N in amusement, and Zeno cackled again. 

“I think I like you already,” the old man said. Suddenly, the door leading to the kitchen slammed open, revealing a slightly stressed butler. 

“The lady of the house is here. Dinner will start momentarily.” 

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Y/N shifted in their seat, listening to silverware clang against priceless plates. Silva was seated at the head of the table, with Zeno on his left. Then Milluki, and across from Milluki sat Kalluto. On Silva’s right sat Kikyo. Y/N felt the light of Kikyo’s visor bore into their forehead. 

‘If looks could kill,’ Y/N thought. ‘I’d be face down in the appetizer.’ 

Illumi seemed to sense Y/N’s discomfort. Y/N felt a graze on their thigh, but when they turned their head to look at Illumi, they were met with a stony expression. 

“Y/N,” Kikyo said. 

At once, Y/N sat up straight. They turned their attention to the matriarch, and the rest of the table turned their attention to Y/N. 

“So. What are you after?” 

Y/N blanched. Zeno started to chuckle into his soup.

“I’m sorry ma’am, I don-”

“Don’t be silly,  of course you know what I’m talking about! What do you want? Power, money? What is it? Were you not satisfied being a member of the help? Had to get ahead, didn’t you?” Kikyo questioned. Y/N looked around the room for help. Zeno was extremely amused, and Silva seemed used to his wife’s antics. Milluki was scrolling on his phone and poor Kalluto was staring wide-eyed ahead of him. 

“With all due respect, Mistress Zoldyck, I’m not after anything. In fact, if I may say, Illumi pursued me,” Y/N explained. 

That did it. 

Kikyo squawked and stood, knocking a glass of wine over. Silva started to pat his father on the back, as Zeno laughed and subsequently snorted up his soup down into his lungs. Kalluto was now hurriedly trying to eat his meal, and judging from the light on the back of his phone, Milluki had started to record the situation. 

“Illumi! What is the meaning of this? Were the suitors I personally picked out not good enough?” 

“No,” Illumi said. Kikyo all but wailed. 

“What are you trying to do to this family? Our bloodline? Illumi, haven’t I raised you better than this?” 

Y/N looked at Illumi, who was slowly chewing on a piece of steak. Illumi slid his eyes back to Y/N, and once again, Y/N felt a hand graze their thigh. 

“Mother, you and Father have raised us to trust our instincts since birth. My instincts told me that it would be in my best interests to court and marry Y/N. There is a list of reasons as to why we are compatible, and that is the trajectory I am on,” Illumi said. 

The silence in the room was deafening. Y/N gasped as Kikyo started to sniff. 

“Oh, my boy! How far you’ve come. Just a model of what a man and a Zoldyck should be! I’m so proud of you!” Kikyo said. 

Y/N’s head started to pound, and the headache was exacerbated as Kikyo turned her attention back to them. 

“You should be honored. Overjoyed, even! We’ll start planning the wedding at once, and I’ll be conducting some of my own tests to make sure you don’t shame us, do you understand?” Kikyo said. Y/n nodded vigorously. Their eyes caught another butler, who was wheeling in the next course from the kitchen. 

When no one moved, Kikyo huffed once again. 

“Well? What are you all gawking at? Dig in!” 

Part Four: complicated-conversation

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[flowesona]

Wicker Man - yandere! jungkook x reader

so my child @babeejk​ wanted a y! sugar daddy jungkook, and i live for nothing if not to fulfil her jungkook obsession so here we are. 

word count: 2.1k

pairing: y! jungkook x gn! reader

Most people (Y/N)’s age would spend their Friday night partying, hanging out with friends, trying new things. But (Y/N) was spending the best days of their life entertaining a young, rich CEO who would no doubt dump them for a new pretty face in a few years.

Jungkook was a sweet gentleman. Always made payments on time, and usually never pushed the boundaries. But there were instances where his hands crept a little too far for (Y/N)’s liking, or his grip on (Y/N)’s arm got a little too tight in the presence of his friends.

He was peaceful enough that Friday night, having ordered takeout for the two of them and put on a movie. Clearly, he needed the company of (Y/N) more than their body as most of their previous sugar daddies had coveted.

With (Y/N) placing their plate down onto the coffee table and relaxing into his arms to watch the movie, it was almost like they were dating. Jungkook didn’t dare push this idea often, happy to stick to the simple domesticity they had as if they were already in love and nothing needed to be said.

He pressed a kiss on the back of (Y/N)’s neck, enjoying the fleeting feeling of his lips on their skin. 

“You seem tired, baby. Want to go to bed?” The film was reaching its climax, but (Y/N)’s eyes were barely able to stay open.

“Mmmmm.” They replied, not protesting as he lifted them like a bride and carried them into his room to rest on his king sized bed.

(Y/N) had allowed a gentle smile to settle on their lips, their eyes having drifted closed. Jungkook settled himself beside them, feeling equally as at peace.

“I wish every night could be like this.” He mused allowed. “Would you like that, baby?”

(Y/N) was only his for two nights a week - Fridays and Saturdays, wherein he would often have them stay for the night.

“Mmmmm.” (Y/N) gave an ambiguous grumble as he hooked his arms around their chest to spoon them.

“Really? I can’t wait, baby. I love you, so much.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The morning after, (Y/N) woke up to an empty bed. Unusual, considering that Jungkook loved to wake up beside them and talk in the morning. Brushing that aside they stood up and padded out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Jungkook was seated at the counter, glasses perched on his nose and his laptop in front of him next to a steaming cup of hot water (allegedly, it had health benefits but (Y/N) had never understood it).

“Good morning, baby.” Jungkook had a bright smile, beckoning them to join him at the counter. (Y/N) followed his instructions, hopping onto the stool beside him and leaning on his shoulder in a move they knew he adored.

“I’ve been working hard for you this morning, baby. You know, I want to get this done as soon as possible so we can be together.”

“That’s good.” (Y/N) hummed in reply.

“How do you feel about the moving company getting there at two today? That’ll give us time to have lunch on the way.” Jungkook ran his hand down their arm, soothing them as he noticed how they tensed up.

“What?” 

“So you can move in, baby. Of course, you don’t have to bring everything here and I’ll be more than happy to buy anything extra you need-”

“Wait, wait, wait a second.” (Y/N) breathed out slowly. “Moving in?”

“We talked about it last night. You agreed, didn’t you?” (Y/N) scrunched up their nose, trying to recall the conversation but drawing a blank.

“No, I never agreed to that. And I never would. It’d break the terms of our contract.”

Jungkook had such a sincere look of hurt in his eyes that it tugged at (Y/N)’s heartstrings.

“We don’t need that contract, baby. We just need each other. You know I’ll give you anything you want, right?” 

“And what I want… no, what I need… is for some space. This is just my part time hustle, I still have college and a life outside of this. I want to keep it to two days a week, otherwise it’ll blur the lines between you as a sugar daddy and you as a boyfriend.” (Y/N) tried not to let their irritation show as they spoke.

“Fuck the lines, (Y/N)! We don’t need any of those labels, I just want you to be mine as much as I am yours!” Their companion’s grip on their arm had grown tighter to the point that his nails started to draw blood. Realising this, (Y/N) pried his hand away and stood up.

“I’m sorry if I’d misled you. But I’m not looking for that kind of relationship with you, I’m just looking for strictly business. If this doesn’t work, maybe we should end this.” 

Jungkook stared at them incredulously.

“Well…” He bit his lip, deep in thought. “Fine. Life will go on, I guess. I’ll call up the moving company and cancel it. Let’s not end this beautiful thing we have over a silly argument.”

(Y/N) nodded, although they had a horrible feeling in their stomach that it was not the end of the conversation, and Jungkook would stop at nothing to get his way.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

(Y/N) had chosen to make Thursday a ‘me’ day. They cooked themselves breakfast and lunch, did some online shopping and applied a face mask. They had zero intentions of visiting anyone else, when all they wanted to do was de-stress from life.

As they were lighting a candle and listening to some Beethoven, a shrill alarm rang out.

‘Huh. They don’t normally hold the drill today.’ (Y/N) shrugged, waiting for it to cease. However, it didn’t stop.

After a few minutes, (Y/N) grabbed their phone and stepped outside, only to see people hurrying down the stairs. 

“Hurry! Fire!” One of her neighbours yelled, jogging past them. 

Their eyes widened, but sure enough they could see smoke curling throughout the air and they knew they had no time to lose. Leaving their apartment with only their phone in hand, (Y/N) followed their neighbours down the stairs and out of the building, standing on the pavement as they watched the flames licking at the building and smoke billowing out of the open windows. Soon enough there were fire engines on the scene and ambulances to deal with the people who’d inhaled too much smoke. 

(Y/N) found themselves sitting on the pavement, numb with shock. To think everything they owned was going up in the flames was terrifying, even as they saw the firefighters doing everything to minimise the damage. 

“(Y/N)! Baby!” Their state of shock was broken by someone yelling their name, and suddenly they were pulled into a tight hug.

“Baby, thank god you’re okay. I don’t know what I would’ve done if something happened to you.” 

“Jungkook?” (Y/N) instantly recognised the voice. “What- How-”

“I was in the area when I heard about what happened. I came as quickly as I could.” Jungkook pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s forehead. 

“You need to rest. Come back to my place, okay?”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

(Y/N) had ended up staying there far longer than intended. Their apartment had been completely wrecked by the fire, since it had started on their floor. Every possession of theirs, gone so quickly, although of course Jungkook insisted on replacing whatever they wanted.

Jungkook seemed to be very much content with their prolonged stay. In fact, he’d been working from home for the first few days to make sure they were settled in and not feeling too lonely. (Y/N) would sit with him in his home office, since they didn’t really have much else to do, and scroll on their phone until he inevitably called them over to cuddle with him. 

The young man had become progressively bolder with his skinship, never holding back from pressing kisses to their neck or holding them a bit too tightly to his crotch. They hadn’t done ‘it’ yet, but with how he was acting it was only a matter of time. 

They were just sitting together, (Y/N) scrolling through instagram and Jungkook answering some emails when the desk phone rang. Jungkook reached around them to answer it, holding it to his ear for a few seconds before putting it back down.

“Your nintendo switch has just been delivered. I need to go down to the lobby and sign for it. Are you okay waiting here for a few minutes?” Jungkook pouted, as (Y/N) nodded in reply.

He pressed a kiss to their cheek before standing up.

“Don’t miss me too much, baby.” He smiled before leaving. 

(Y/N) let out a breath they didn’t realise they’d been holding in whilst he was there. But now, they were bored as ever. 

A chime rang out, and (Y/N) found their attention drawn to Jungkook’s phone, sitting there innocently. They reached over and picked it up, only seeing a text from his mother asking about dinner plans next week. But they noted how he’d changed his lockscreen to a picture of them, from a few nights ago when they’d accompanied him to a formal event and he’d asked one of his colleagues to take a picture of them together.

(Y/N) suddenly had something to do. They set about trying to unlock Jungkook’s phone, first trying their fingerprint and face ID but to no avail. Then, realising that he had a numeral password they tried typing in a few dates - his birthday, his parent’s anniversary. Then, out of sheer boredom and with only one attempt they tried their own birthday only for them to be granted access to his lockscreen.

‘Jeez, he needs to get a life if he’s that whipped for me.’ They sighed, as they scrolled through his phone. Nothing was particularly out of the ordinary, until they checked the photo gallery, to be met with tons of pictures of them. Screenshots from social media, snaps from their ‘dates’, selfies with them fast asleep in his arms. It was enough to make (Y/N) shudder with fright.

Another message popped up.

‘I need the other half of the payment, sir, or I will be contacting the police.’

(Y/N) clicked on it, expecting business talk only to be met with something else entirely. Fear settled in their stomach as they scrolled up through the messages.

‘(Y/N) has been evacuated outside, doesn’t seem to have been hurt.’

‘Someone’s called emergency services, but the fire should spread far enough that (Y/N)’s apartment will be damaged.’

‘I’ve started it, it’s spreading quickly.’

It didn’t take a genius to realise what had happened. 

(Y/N) dropped Jungkook’s phone on the floor in shock, standing up immediately. They’d walked right into his arms without hesitation, they’d played into his plan perfectly. Jungkook always got what he wanted, no matter the cost.

‘I have to get out of here.’

(Y/N) started for the door, only stopping to tuck their phone into their pocket. They were just by the entrance to the penthouse when they heard talking outside.

They knew they had to hide, but it was too late. 

Jungkook burst through the door, accompanied by a stern faced delivery driver carrying a large box. This was subsequently placed by the door and he made a swift exit, avoiding (Y/N)’s existence the entire time.

“Ah, baby I missed you. Here, come and see what I bought for you.” Jungkook beckoned to them, but one look at their face told him he’d read their mood entirely wrong.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He cooed as he approached them. “Tell me, and I’ll fix it for you.”

“Get the hell away from me.” (Y/N) snapped. Jungkook froze. “I know what you did. What the hell is wrong with you? I could’ve died in that fire?”

His face became stern.

“I would never have allowed that to happen. I just wanted to give you a little push to move in with me, that’s all.” 

“You’re insane!”

“And you’re too stubborn to progress our relationship!” Jungkook bit back. “Can’t you see how hard I try to make you happy? Is that not enough for you to love me?”

“I never want to see you again.” (Y/N) huffed, trying to show past him only to be caught in his iron grip. 

“You’re not going anywhere.”

(Y/N) struggled, but Jungkook’s determination was stronger than their body weight.

“Maybe I am crazy, baby. And you know what that means?” He leant in close, so (Y/N) could feel the warmth of his breath. “You never know what I’m going to do next. So don’t try me unless you want to get burnt.”

[disgruntledspacedad]

The Rules of Engagement (1/5)

part one of the The Better Love Series 

pairing: Javier Peña x fem reader

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do. 

words: 6.3k 

warnings: 18+ - drugs, violence, language, alcohol, eventual smut. 

a/n: at the end. @tiffdawg​, I finally did it.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Your alarm buzzes, and you roll over groggily. 

0615.

Goddamn. You flop a pillow over your head, blocking out the early morning sun, and wonder if three hours of sleep is any better than no sleep at all. 

Somehow, you kind of doubt it. 

The alarm blares again, a failsafe you’d been wise enough to set up after round two had led you to the shower. You gather your still-damp hair, wincing at how gross that feels, and elbow Peña in the shoulder. 

“Morning, sunshine!” You toss your soggy pillow onto his face. 

He grunts pathetically, cracks an eye just enough to send you a sliver of resentment, and lifts a middle finger vaguely in your direction. 

You’re completely unsympathetic. “Not my fault this time, Peña.” 

He curses you in Spanish as you flick on the lights on your way to the kitchen. Coffee is your first order of business. 

You’re not sure exactly when Agent Peña became a fixture in your apartment.  Oh, you can nail down the general timeline pretty well - a night out with the Search Bloc boys had ended with Peña coming to your place, and things had unfolded naturally from there. The sex was good. Very good. You’ve always had a high drive, and Peña is a man who can deliver. You’re pretty creative, and he’s fairly open minded, and neither of you seem to care to make things complicated with Labels and Conversations. Somewhere down the line, wild nights out evolved into even wilder nights in, and then, before you knew it, you’d let Peña borrow your spare key when he’d left his wallet on your coffee table. 

That had been at least two months ago. The sex is still good, and Peña is still leaving his shit everywhere, so neither of you bothered to say anything about it. 

It works. That’s all that matters.

You’ve just sat down with your drink in your hands as the doorbell buzzes. “What the fuck?” You glance at the kitchen clock. It’s not even 0630.

The doorbell buzzes again. 

You eyeball the gun that Peña has left lying on the kitchen counter. Nobody should be looking for you this early in the morning. 

“Hey!” Somebody is knocking now, and shouting, and ugh, you recognize that voice. You leave the gun where it is - somewhat reluctantly - and slam open the door with a ferocity that sends Steve Murphy stumbling into your kitchen. 

“Good morning,” you say serenely. 

“Good morning to you, too, Ears,” Murphy grimaces up at you. 

“That’s not my name,” you remind him for the thousandth time. Not that it will make any difference. Ever since you’d made the mistake of introducing yourself as Centra Spike’s new liaison by saying, “I’ll be your ears,” the Search Bloc boys had leapt at the opportunity to tease. You’re pretty sure most of them don’t realize that you have any other name. 

Somehow, it irks you more coming from Murphy. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask as politely as your temper allows. Murphy has never been your favorite person, and your caffeine definitely hasn’t kicked in yet.

Murphy rights himself, fixing you with a glare that doesn’t threaten in the slightest. “I’m looking for Javi,” he says. He has the audacity to glance around your tiny living space, as if he’d come with a search warrant.

You fold your arms across your chest, suddenly aware of your too-thin nightshirt, and lift a brow in Murphy’s direction. “And what makes you think he’d be here?”

Murphy pins you with an ‘I see right through your bullshit’ expression. “Call it a hunch.” 

Right on cue, footsteps clatter down the kitchen stairs. Murphy smirks. You don’t bother to hide a sigh. 

Fuck. 

“What are you doing here?” Peña echoes you unconsciously. You try not to cringe at the smug glance Murphy throws your way.

 Instead, you turn to glare at Javi, and oh god. 

His shirt is buttoned all wrong, hanging lopsided and displaying half his chest, if he’d just given up at the top. 

Subtle.

Murphy apparently doesn’t have the stones to address it, because he waves a manilla folder in front of Peña’s face. “Special delivery,” he says, dropping the file on your coffee table with a smack. 

Peña dives for it, brow furrowed. Whatever he sees must be good, because he snaps his head up to stare at Murphy. “Where did you get these?” he asks, thumbing through the pages.

“My contact in Medellín.” Steve rests his hands on his belt ever so casually, as if daring Peña to question him. 

Peña does. “Since when do you have a contact in Medellín?” 

You wonder the same. Partners are usually aware of each other’s informants, unless it’s that kind of contact. Isn’t Murphy married?

“Not important.” Murphy shuts him down quickly. 

“Verdugo,” Peña breathes.

You shoot a questioning glance at Murphy.  In the three months you’ve been in Colombia, your Spanish is rapidly improving, but Murphy has been here longer, and some things are still beyond you. “Butcher,” he translates with a grimace. “Or executioner. One of Escobar’s top sicarios.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Lovely.”

Peña glances up, surprised to hear you speak, as if he’d forgotten that he’s standing in your living room.

Murphy doesn’t acknowledge you. “He’s in Medellín, Javi.” He stretches, then makes for your front door. “I’m gonna turn in for a bit. Late night.” 

Peña grunts, settling on your sofa with the file as Murphy sees himself out. 

You sidle up behind him, curious.  He knows you’re there - your hair is falling over his shoulder and you’re doing nothing to stifle your breathing, but Peña’s only acknowledgement of your presence is to shift his body ever so slightly to the left, unspokenly granting you access to the file.

You bite your lip, pleased and a little unnerved at the implication. You suppose that Peña wouldn’t be Peña unless he’s breaking the rules. He certainly has a reputation for it.

It hits a little differently, though, knowing that he’s committing a felony just to satisfy your curiosity. And on your fucking sofa, too.

You shake the butterflies away. Peña is flipping through a series of grainy photos, each showcasing the same guy. Somebody, Murphy probably, has circled his face in red ink, and there are further notes in the margins, written hastily. Landmarks, you guess. Peña is reading too fast for you to decipher much, but you spot a map of what you assume is Medellín in the shuffle. It is similarly annotated with scrawling red ink.

Peña flips through the file once, and then again, slower. 

You brace yourself on on your forearms, glancing at the clock. You aren’t expected at the embassy until eight - you can afford to be patient. 

Whatever this is, it’s big.

Deciding you’ve gleaned all you can from the file, you turn your attention to Peña. He’s leaned forward on your sofa, arms on thighs, lost in thought. Every muscle is tensed, as if he could spring up at any moment, his gaze is narrowed, his brow furrowed in a way that tempts you to lick it. 

The thought startles you. You aren’t a goddamn animal.

Are you? Your mind drifts to Murphy, smirking with his arms folded in your kitchen like he could see through your nightshirt, right into your fucking brain. 

A stone sinks in your chest. Landing this position with Centra Spike had been your first big break in a lifetime of frustrations. You’d joined the army fresh out of school, angling to be an analyst with the special forces. The good ol’ U. S. of A. had gladly foot the bill for your education in exchange for you signing your life away, and you’d chugged through a mind-numbingly boring double major of mathematics and computer science, all on the sage advice of your recruiter. 

The reality of active duty was a kick in the fucking teeth. The brass had taken one look at you - a wide-eyed, idealistic woman with a big hair and bigger goals - and promptly slapped you with a desk job. You’d spent three more years rotting away in a forgotten back corner of an office building in Kuwait, filing reports and delivering messages. Occasionally, they’d throw you a bone and hand you a code to rewrite. Your commanding officer got all the credit, and you were just a glorified secretary.

By the time your contract was up, you’d been sidelined, interrupted, passed-over, underestimated, scoffed, and just flat-out ignored enough to be thoroughly fed up with military life. The glass ceiling in the U.S. Army is raised just high enough to suffocate its victims slowly, and you were sick sick of being stifled. 

Being recruited by the CIA for analyst work in the hunt for Pablo Escobar had been pure, dumb luck. Right now, you might just be a liaison, but this is your shot. Your last one, probably, and you’re not willing to give it up just to get laid.

Not even for the best lay of your life.

Peña slaps the file shut with gentle smack, startling you from your thoughts. He reaches for his boots, moving with a single-minded determination that you’d find sexy if it weren’t so damned inconvenient.

“Peña.”

He doesn’t react, just gathers his badge and keys from the end table as if you aren’t even there.

“Peña.” You say it louder this time.

“Hmm?” 

“Javi!” You call his name without even realizing it, and it works. His head snaps up, eyes wide, staring at you as if he’s just now seen you for the first time.

You have his undivided attention now. 

“Yeah?” He blinks, all wide brown eyes, and fuck it all, you can feel yourself flushing under his gaze. 

You swallow hard, push past the strange flutter in your chest. “We’re getting too predicable.” 

His brow furrows. “Come again?”

You decide to take the high road, but you can’t stop your lips twitching at the obvious joke that he’s left himself open for. He’s quick to follow your though process, though - his eyes sparkle with laugher, daring you to call him on his blunder. 

Shit.

You press on. “This,” you start, grimacing. He’s still looking at you, and his expression is warm. Flirtatious. “What we’re doing…” Goddamn, your face is aflame. “I mean, we’re not exactly subtle.”

He draws back, expression shuttering instantly. “Don’t worry about Murphy,” he says firmly. “He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

The ‘if he knows what’s good for him’ is clearly implied.

“It’s not just Murphy,” you press. You can’t exactly put into words what it is that you're trying to make Peña understand, you just know it's important that he does.

“What are you suggesting?” He’s standing now, still holding the file against his chest, as if to defend himself with it. 

You shake your head. “I think,” you say slowly, trying hard not to catch his eye, “that we need to cool it.”

Silence. You can feel his raised eyebrow.

You step forward. You’re focusing hard on finding the right words without revealing too much, but your hands are desperate for something to do. “We need to stop fucking around.”

There, you said it.

“Oh?” There’s something amused in his tone, but you shrug it off, still refusing to look at him.

“Yeah,” you answer hotly. “Isn’t this fraternization? Shouldn’t we be worried about our careers, or some shit? We both have a lot to lose here.” You glance up, emboldened by your speech. “Do you want to catch Escobar or not?”

He’s looking down at you, not taking you the least bit seriously, expression damn near indulgent. 

Indignation sets a fire in your chest.

“You think you can just quit me, cold turkey,” he asks in a voice as smooth as silk.

Goddammit, he’s mocking you.

“Absolutely.” You look him firmly in the eye, former awkwardness forgotten, more determined than you’ve ever been. 

He huffs directly in your face. “You won’t last a week, Ears.” He cups your cheek in his hand, skimming your jawline with his thumb. “I know you, remember.”

Oh, the bastard. “You think you can go longer?” You counter, stepping into his chest. You’re pissed now. Peña is a well-known man whore, and you know, know, that you are exactly his type.

He laughs now, openly and genuinely amused. “Longer than you,” he says, glancing down at where your hands are absently fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. 

Oh, fuck. 

“I’m fixing you, you absolute asshole,” you hiss, beyond grateful that you’ve yet to undo his last cockeyed button. “Unless you want to show up at the office all freshly fucked and lopsided.” You hold up the hem of his shirt, clearly displaying his mismatched edges.

“Oh.” At least he has the grace to look abashed. 

“Yeah,” you swallow dryly, suddenly aware of how close he his, smelling of coffee and cigarettes, sex and the scent of your own bedsheets. 

Goddamn, you want him already. 

You push it all away, patting him condescendingly on the chest. Two can play this game. “Just looking out for your career, Agent Peña.”

He sighs somewhat theatrically, but you can see the conflict warring in him. 

“Well, then, Ears,” he says after a long moment. He rebuttons his shirt properly this time, fingers working quickly. “Guess I’ll see you around.” 

You meet his gaze evenly. “Guess so.”

The door shuts behind him, and you sink to the sofa. It’s still warm from where he’d been sitting.

Oh fuck, what have you done?

♠

You’re not watching, you’re not, but you can’t help but notice when Peña comes swaggering into the office at ten am, wearing those sunglasses and those fucking too-tight, dark wash jeans, chugging a cup of coffee like he knows that his exposed neck is a weapon. 

You make eye contact through the glass, just for a moment, and he winks at you.

You smirk back, a plan forming in your mind.

This means war. 

♠

You retaliate by letting your hair curl wild over your shoulders and squeezing yourself into a leather skirt that is just barely work appropriate. The Search Bloc boys bombard you with whistles and winks and catcalls all day. 

It’s worth it, though, to see Agent Peña’s eyes go wide and blinking, to watch him swallow so hard. 

“Fucking tease,” Murphy hisses as you glide past his desk. 

You flip him off in response. 

♠

Your apartment feels strangely empty. 

It’s Saturday afternoon. Search Bloc is investigating a tip in Medellín, and Centra Spike doesn’t need you in today. You briefly consider going out, but that would involve changing out of your sweats, and besides, aside from the Search Bloc guys, you really don’t have many friends in Colombia. 

You sit down on your sofa, drawing the coffee table toward you, and deal yourself a hand of solitaire. The cards had belonged to your dad before he passed them down to you, and they are comfortable in your hand, worn soft with age. There’s a trick to shuffling a deck this old, and something comfortable in the practice. 

The hand you deal is a losing hand. 

Frustrated, you stomp down the stairs to the little pharmacy below your flat. “Hola, Emilio!” you wave to the older man working the counter. Emilio doesn’t speak much English, and your Spanish is improving slower than you’d like, but you mostly manage to communicate just fine. 

You make your way to the little display of liquor bottles and ponder it for a minute. There’s nothing remotely recognizable on the shelves, but you’re not exactly committed to buying anything, anyway. 

There’s nothing more pathetic than drinking alone. 

 A presence at your shoulder makes you jump. It’s just Emilio. He smiles at you, and reaches for a bottle of clear liquor whose packaging reminds you a little too much of antiseptic hand spray for comfort. He presses it into your hands. “Guaro.”

“This is what I need, then?” you ask him. “Este? It’s good?”

“Guaro.” He’s nodding and grinning, rattling something in rapid-fire Spanish that you’re far too slow to translate. The enthusiasm behind it is hard to miss, though.

“He says it’s good and strong. Respect it, and it will respect you.” Emilo’s daughter winks up at you. She’s bent over, stocking shelves, and you’d missed her, distracted as you’d been by your conversation with Emilio.

You smile gratefully. Ana must be home from university this weekend. You’ve only met once or twice, but she’s kind, and doesn’t mind translating for you. You think you might have been friends, if she was around more.

“Gracias,” you tell her, and mean it. “Aguardiente,” you sound out slowly, frowning down at the bottle. “Sugar water?”

“Something like that.” Ana rises, leaving the box of chicharrones on the floor. “You’ll find that most of the locals just call it guaro. It’s a staple in Colombia. Hard to find anywhere else, and even transporting it between cities is dangerous.” She rolls her eyes and shrugs, as if to say, ‘what’s new?’ 

“But it’s just liquor, right?” 

“Yeah, I think so. Alcohol, sugar, anise…” She shrugs, and laughs. “Simple, but there’s something magic about it. You don’t want to go too hard with this. Sit down and have a small glass with a lime. Slower is better.” 

You frown. Anise. It jogs something in your memory, some long-forgotten fact…

“Trust me.” Ana is at your elbow now, pinning you with an earnest stare. “It hits hard, and fast. Papa wasn’t lying.”

You laugh. “Is that the college experience speaking?”

“Oh, yes. Seguro.” 

Ana follows you as you take the bottle of guaro to the register. “And how are your classes going?” you ask as Emilio rings you up. 

Ana grimaces, shaking her head as she cuts her gaze to Emilio. “It’s good to have a little break,” she admits. 

You sympathize with that. You hadn’t cared too much for the tedium of higher education either. Emilio hands you a little paper bag, and you wave goodbye to him with a smile. “I’ll have to catch you when you’ve got a free weekend,” you tell Ana as you head toward the stairs that lead to your flat. You hold up the liquor suggestively. “You can teach me all about how to respect this guaro.”

Ana laughs. “What are you doing this evening? We close up at eight.”

Your face breaks into a grin. It’s hard making friends in Colombia just with the language barrier alone, never mind that your work with Centra Spike forces you to keep so many secrets. Without Peña around, life here is lonely. But Ana seems innocent enough, and it’s just a drink. “Perfect! I’ll be here.”

You walk up the steps feeling much lighter than when you descended them.

♠

Ana doesn’t stay long. She looks around your apartment, carefully assessing, then nodding as if satisfied. 

You let it go.

She teaches you to tap the bottom of the bottle to expel the liquor, almost as if you’re pouring ketchup from a glass container. Looking at the contents, they don’t seem particularly viscous. When you ask her why this is necessary, Ana shrugs.  “It’s a mystery,” she tells you, and you write it off as one of the eccentricities of Colombian culture, paying rapt attention as Ana begins explaining one of only three acceptable ways to serve the guaro.  

♠

“I’ve got something for you,” you announce brightly, slapping both hands firmly on Javier Peña’s desk and leaning in just a hair too close to be strictly professional. 

“Oh?” His face breaks into a slow smirk, and he tilts back in his swivel chair, stretching just enough to give you a good view of those too-tight jeans as he hooks his fingers behind his head. “And what’s that?”

Smug fucking bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. You cool your jets and wink at him, teasing a manilla file for him to see. “We thought you might like this.”

“We?”

“Okay, fine, Jacoby caught some chatter, but I vetted it,” you press on, refusing to let him derail you. This is huge. “It’s Verdugo.”

Peña glances up at you, suddenly intense. “You sure?”

“Well, it’s not him personally,” you admit. “At least, not his voice. But,” You slam the transcript down on his desk. “We caught an entire conversation verifying his presence at a safehouse in Medellín.” You pause for full dramatic effect before going in for the kill. “A specific safehouse in Medellín.”

Javi reverts to Agent Peña instantly, all flirting forgotten as he leans forward on his elbows. “Show me.”

You bend over, noticing absently that your hair is once again falling into his face as you tap your finger over the address. Peña settles in to read the full report as you watch, his eyes darting back and forth over the pages at a rate that is truly impressive. When he glances back up at you, the ferocity of his gaze is startling. 

“They’re getting ready to make a move.” There’s something like a spark of hope in his eyes, tiny, but growing stronger as he processes the information you’ve given him.

“Yeah,” you say, throat suddenly dry. He’s looking at you with earnest gratitude, and it tugs at something deep in your chest.

“This is big,” he breathes, and just like that, he’s on his feet, gathering the file, punching a number into his desktop telephone. 

“This is Peña,” he says as the call connects. “We’ve got something.”

♠

It’s dark when you finally get home. Claudia Messina, head of DEA operations in Colombia, had cornered you in her office for hours, going over and over the information you’d vetted. You brain is absolutely fried, the victory of the discovery stifled by having to defend your work again and again. 

You just need a drink. 

“About time!” a voice startles you as you turn to shut the door behind you. You jump, barely suppressing a shriek, and whirl around. 

Goddamn Javier Peña with his goddamned spare key.

He’s smirking at you from your sofa, cigarette dangling from his fingers. Any other day, you’d have noticed his presence instantly just from the smell. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice is more of a whine than you’d like, but dammit, you’re tired, and dammit, he’s gotten one over on you. 

He knows it, too, the smug bastard. “Expecting somebody else?” he asks, sauntering toward you with a devastating smile that manages to be both possessive and suggestive all at once. 

“No,” you answer somewhat grumpily. “I wasn’t expecting anybody.”

Given your sulky attitude, you’re surprised to see that his smile brightens a bit. You frown at him, still confused as to why the fuck he is here, and he bustles into the kitchen, clinking around, pouring you a drink. 

You sigh and relax onto the sofa. At least you’ll have that.

He comes back, a tumbler of clear liquor in each hand. Ah, so he’s found your guaro. You suspect that he’s helped himself to at least one measure already. He hands you a glass, and you take it gratefully, sniffing at the contents. 

He’s drinking it neat, apparently.

“So!” he says, settling beside you on the sofa, close enough that your thighs touch. He pins you with an intense stare. You raise a brow in response, intrigued and a little confused. 

He smiles. “Your tip from this morning was a gold mine, Ears.” He eases back, propping his feet on your coffee table in a way that you should probably reprimand him for. He sips, sighs, leans in to bump your shoulder playfully, then settles with his hands at his waist, long fingers fiddling with the glass he’s cradling. “Martinez wants us to go for Verdugo tomorrow,” he tells you, suddenly serious. “Based on your information.” 

“Really?” You can hardly believe it. Most of what you do is verify things that others have found, or carry files from Centra Spike to Search Bloc. Same old, same old. Even though you’ve trained for this for years, you’ve never been integral in interpreting and locating a conversation before, especially not for a target as high level as Verdugo. 

Javi twists to smile up at you, a real smile. “Really,” he says, pointing a finger in your direction. He watches you fight back a grin. “Go on, be smug. This is big.”

“Wow,” you mouth, somewhat awed that you’ve contributed anything, let alone this, to the hunt for Pablo Escobar. 

The reaction isn’t lost on Javi. He sits up, wraps his arms around your shoulders and squeezes gently. “Pretty much. You gave us enough information that we feel confident about initiating a sting in Medellín.” He reaches up with both hands, catching your face at the edge of your jaw and drawing you close. “We couldn’t have done it without you, Ears.”

Ears. Yours are burning at the heat of his touch. You’re acutely aware of his palms cupping your cheeks. His eyes are dark, too dark, and open, looking at you as if you’ve single handled handed Escobar to the DEA on a golden platter. 

You suppress a shudder, leaning in to him as he pulls you in for a hug. Christ, his body feels so good as it cradles yours, arms snaking around your back, stubble gritting awkwardly into your cheek, the scent of smoke and liquor clouding you -

You wonder, abruptly, how much he’s had to drink.

“Peña,” you say swiftly, pulling away from him to stand. The way he’s looking at you right now, giddy and awestruck and openly hungry, well, it’s not going to last. You know it won’t. It can’t. 

His face falls, as if he’s confused at your sudden rejection. 

You shake your head. Peña is just drunk. You guys aren’t like this. You don’t hug and share and hold each other. It was only ever sex, and it’s not even that anymore. 

You’re overwhelmed, suddenly and without warning, at how desperately you want him. 

Not just the sex, though honestly, you have missed that. No, what you want is - 

You shove that thought down, locking it away so deeply that it will never see the light of day. 

You cannot have feelings for Javier Peña. 

“Ears?” he questions, tilting his head just so, managing to look more sober than he has all evening. 

“I just need another drink,” you say as you sidestep him, making your way to the kitchen. You watch him from the corner of your eyes as his gaze follows you. He seems to take your deference at face value - he’s lighter than you’ve seen him in weeks, excited, almost chipper, if you can believe it. The meeting with Martinez must have gone very well. You snort, contrasting his meeting to yours with Messina. The dissonance is enough to wonder, offhandedly, if some not-so-subtle sexism is at play. 

You shake off that thought. It’s not helpful, just depressing, especially here in Colombia. Instead, you turn to look at Javi. 

He’s still flopped on your sofa, his original drink in his hand, hunched over the stack of playing cards that you’d left out last night. 

Your dad had taught you to play solitaire from a young age. There’s a variation for two players, a game which one will inevitably win, but the real challenge is for the single player, in which triumph relies equally on skill and luck. Last night, after Ana had left, you’d played a long, brutal game, ultimately finding yourself blocked, helpless to do anything but shuffle the deck over, and over, and over again. 

Losing two games in a row is just shameful, and you’d left the cards on the table, eager to look at them again with fresh eyes. 

Javi eyeballs the game with a furrowed brow. You’d managed to make it quite far. Had the cards fallen in any different order, you’d have won easily. Carefully, Javi flicks over one card from the stack, frowns, then another. This one is a red queen, and he plays it eagerly, shuffling the black jack to its new position and opening up another space. 

“Hey!” you protest. He glances up at you, bemused, and you shove a newly made drink into his hand as you settle beside him. 

“You missed that move,” he explains, pointing exaggeratedly with the pinky finger that holds the tumbler. 

You roll your eyes. “I play draw three,” you correct him. You reshuffle the cards to their original places, this time drawing three from the deck: a five of spades on top, Javi’s red queen in the middle, and the ace of spades below both. The top card, the five of spades, has no place to be played, so you flip all three cards into the discard pile and draw three more from the deck. 

Javi frowns. “Seems like you’re making it a lot harder than it has to be.”

You sigh. Men. “Single draw solitaire is for kids,” you counter with a vicious smile. “Just for them to learn to play the game. Real players draw three.”

He huffs, “Oh, really?” he’s smirking up at you, eyes sparkling in amusement. “Are you the kind of woman who likes a challenge, Ears?”

He’s just dying to prove you wrong. 

“I’m the kind of woman who refuses to cut corners just so I can win a dumb card game.” you inform him sagely.  

“Hmmm,” he says, staring contemplatively at the cards. You let him shuffle through the deck twice, each time verifying what you already know - the game, played as it is, is unbeatable. 

‘Seems a little silly to me,’  he teases, bopping you on the nose. “Letting your ego get in the way of winning.”

Of course Javier Peña would see it that way. You kick back, letting your feet settle at the edge of the coffee table. “Go on then,” you tell him, siping at your drink. “Swoop in and save my game with your kiddie version, you fucking hero.”

He laughs overtly at that, eyes sparkling, and something clenches hard in your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so open, laughing and flirting and playing stupid games after a long day at work. 

It’s nice.

You settle in to watch him work his magic. He’s making plays at an alarming rate - it seems like no time at all before the deck is empty. 

You glance at the clock, biting back a sigh. Less than five minutes. 

He’s smirking up at you, all mussed and smug, eyes alight with warmth, and suddenly, something swoops dangerously in your belly.

That hair, those eyes, his laugh. Warm skin in the dim glow of the lamplight, his body sprawled over your sofa, just begging to be teased. 

You wonder again why he’s here. You’ve made it clear that there’s no more sex, so…

Oh, god. 

Glancing back down at him, tousled hair and crooked smile, ridiculous mustache, plopped indelicately on your sofa, you suddenly realize. 

Javier Peña had sought you out for your company. For no other reason than that he’d had a good day, and wanted to share it with you. 

And oh, oh god.

You’re still so caught up in the sex and your fucking feelings that you can’t divorce that from your friendship, which is obviously important to him. He’s not out celebrating with Murphy - he’s here, in your apartment, with no expectation other than to kick your ass by cheating at children’s card games. 

The realization takes the breath from your lungs. 

You’re the problem here. Just like with the fucking card game, you’re the one making it complicated. 

Javi needs a friend. 

Javi needs a friend, and he’d sought you out so that you can just chill together, and all you can think as he shuffles those damned cards is how the callouses of his fingers would catch deliciously against your clit as he dips them inside you. 

And, and…

You cut off that dark thought. You are not going there.

Jesus Christ, what kind of friend are you?

“Well, this calls for a celebration,” you say. It’s a beat too late and obviously hollow, but Javi doesn’t seem to notice, and you’ve managed to keep the tremor out of your voice, so that’s a win. You rise, making for the kitchen, desperate to do something with your hands. You find yourself pouring Javi yet another drink - is this his third? Or fourth? You aren’t sure - and making yourself a second, much lighter version. 

The last thing you want is to do something stupid.

Javi meets you at the kitchen bar, and you slide the tumbler across to him. He eyeballs it speculatively, raising it and tilting it to view the contents in the dim kitchen light. 

“Goddamn, Ears.” He snorts. “Are you trying to poison me?” 

The denial falls from your tongue as he tilts back his glass from earlier, his second, - or third? - the one that you’d made. He swallows, pushing the empty glass back into you hand, and stands, catching himself on the edge of the table as if he’d moved too fast.

“Alright?” you ask.

He takes a deep breath, then straightens, slowly letting go of the countertop. “Fine,” he says, cocking a brow at you. “But what is that stuff?”

You laugh. “Emilio, you know, from downstairs, he found it for me. Says it’s a Colombian staple, and I can’t leave without having a bottle at least once.”

Javi blinks one too many times, then giggles. Despite your best effort, you snort at the sound. "Well then,” he raises his full tumblr to your half full one, and they clink awkwardly. “To local rotgut and poor life choices,” he toasts, as solemnly as he as able.

“Salud!” you counter, managing to sound a just a hair more sober. Javi is swaying as he stands, and suddenly, you’re concerned. “When did you last eat?”

He glances at you, tilting his head as if your question makes no goddamn sense, and you sigh heavily. Idiot man.

“Okay, hold off on that one,” you warn him - he looks as if he’s about to toss it back, too. “Let me at least make you some eggs first.”

“Eggs?” 

You’re already bustling around your tiny kitchen, pulling a pan from below the stove. “Yeah, moron,” you tell him, unable to stop the grin that catches your lips. “Eggs and salsa. Best food for staving off a hangover that I’ve found so far.”

Javi throws back the rest of his drink anyway, then comes to press his body to your side. “Is that a fact?”

“It’s a fucking science,” you counter, unable to resist slamming your hips into his to nudge him out of the way as you reach into the fridge for the butter. 

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, sinking his face into the crook of your neck. “How can I be of assistance?” he purrs into your ear, and suddenly, it’s very, very hard to concentrate on cooking. 

“Sit. Down.” You hiss, slapping his butt with a dishtowel. He yowls more than strictly necessary, the drama queen; you’re an excellent towel-popper, but it shouldn’t hurt that much. 

Still, you rub his ass in compensation, matching his lecherous grin when he fixes it on you. “Have a seat,” you tell him again, kicking a barstool vaguely in his direction. “And watch the magic.”

♠

Javi cleans his plate enthusiastically. “So what’s the secret?” he asks, mouth full, still staring up at you like your shitty scrambled eggs are the best meal he’s ever eaten.

You snort. “No secret, Peña.” You hold up your stick of butter, much lighter than it’d been before, and toss it back into the fridge. “You literally just watched me cook them.”

He grins loopily.

You shake your head, biting back your own smile. How could a man as competent and independent as Javier Peña forget to do something as basic as eat? 

Well, it hardly matters. Even with the food you’ve made, he’s going to have a massive hangover in the morning. Ana had cautioned you several times to go easy on the guaro, and you trust her judgement. Emilio’s shit, in particular, is cheap, potent, and deadly. 

Well, he’ll pay for it tomorrow. You shake you head, watching him bumble around the kitchen and drop his dirty plate in the sink. Javi stands at your side, warm and solid as you draw just enough water to let the dishes soak. 

He reaches for your dish soap, and you stop him with a hand on his arm. Javi glances down at you, still a little drunkenly, but his eyes are warm, his lips parted just slightly, and you pull away from him as if burned.

“I’ll get them in the morning,” you manage hoarsely.

He shrugs, brushes your shoulder with his hand as he bumbles away, and you take a moment to lean against the sink and calm your racing heart. 

God, what is with you lately?

Javi has already crashed on your sofa, shoes kicked off, legs sprawled, grinning lazily in your direction. 

You manage not to oogle at him, but it’s a near thing.

Instead, you flop down on his opposite side, allowing your legs to tangle in the middle.

He makes a big show of yawning, tilting his wrist up to glance at his watch. You crane your neck to look at the kitchen clock. It’s only 10:33, but you’re both feeling a little lit - Javi more than you, thankfully - and you both have a big day tomorrow. 

You sigh, reaching down to collect the empty glasses and discarded playing cards, slipping Javi’s keys in your back pocket while he’s not looking.

He scoffs.

Oh. You whirl, realizing he’d been watching you all along. 

“So, am I staying over, Ears?” He grins up at you, a little tired, but still in an excellent mood. 

“You are definitely staying over, Peña,” you tell him firmly, trying not to laugh at the wounded puppy expression on his face as he reacts to your tone. His eyes have gone so wide, pout so pathetic that you can’t help but grin, even as you toss a throw pillow haphazardly over his lap. 

That seems to get a rise out of him. He sits up, frowning at the pillow. “I’m on the sofa?” he whines. 

“Yup!’ you say happily, enjoying the power dynamic for what it is. Putting Javier Peña in your bed tonight would lead straight to…

Well, you’re both drunk, and even if you weren’t, you’re not willing to give up on your bet. Not with the nasty realization that you’d had tonight, for sure. 

Javi must follow your thoughts, because he sobers instantly. “Okay,” he says softly, settling back down and cramming the pillow beneath his shoulder.

You’re kind enough to tuck him in, which really just consists of dragging your comforter from you bed and draping it over his ass and shoulders. His boots are lying haphazardly on the floor - you decide to leave them for him to trip over in the morning - and you don’t bother to cover his feet, knowing that he sleeps with his socks outside of the blanket, the weirdo.

Just as you turn away, a single brown eye catches your gaze. He’d been watching you again.

The thought sends a tremor down your spine. “Need anything else?” you ask clinically, trying to ignore the urge to either kiss him, or scream. 

He huffs contentedly, rocking against the cushions like an animal sinking into a burrow. His eyes drift closed, and you can’t help but just notice how dark his lashes are against his cheek. “Can’t think of anything,” he murmurs, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Okay. Good night,” you tell him, squeezing his shoulder as you pass by to turn out the lights.

“Night, babe.”

You choke. Well, maybe he won’t remember. 

Fat chance. He’s drunk, but he’s not wasted. You decide to raise him, because any other response from you will be awkward, forever.

“Good night, honey,” you answer sweetly as you flick off the light. 

In the darkness, you hear him snort.

♠

author’s notes/confessions: 

I have never written Javier Peña. I have never written in second person. I have never written decent smut. I speak no Spanish. Advice and criticisms, if delivered kindly, are very welcome. 

Yeah, I realize that I wrote Javi a little lighter/goofier here than he’s probably typically depicted. Hang tight, guys. He’s not taking this seriously yet, but he will be. Just wait. 

Guaro/Aguardiente a legit Colombian liquor, and I tried to depict it as accurately as possible for never having tried it. The anise thought that reader has is a reference to absinthe, which is a trip if you’ve ever managed to acquire the real deal (something that’s kind of difficult if you live in the States, unfortunately). Also, I’m unsure if you can just walk into a pharmacy and buy liquor in Colombia, but hey, just go with it. 

This started as a conversation with Tiff and turned into... well, this. I am so, so sorry. Expect about 20k and three chapters. Probably. 

Not beta’d. you get what you get, my friends. 

At the risk of sounding pathetic, your feedback absolutely inspires me to write faster. I don’t make the rules, guys. I just write.

This installment is (mostly) complete, but I’d love to hear what you like and what you don’t, and what you want to see next. My inbox is open. I welcome messages. I want to make friends.  

Love you guys big, and happy holidays to those of you who are celebrating!

[jadelynlace]

Hey just went on a 4.5 hr binge reading your amazing work!! I was just wondering if you could do somthing with ivar reacting to the reader saying she is pregnant and his reaction to when she's in labour? In ink drinker?? You're amazing and I love your work!

Hello! That’s so sweet of you, thank you. Welcome to the crazy world!

And I know I said my requests are closed but Ivar & kids? The kill shot. It’s long & funny & emotional and I hope you all enjoy. I cried. 

☞ catch up here

You were late. You were late and in your haste of life, you only noticed two weeks past where you should have.

“I’m late” You texted Ivar.

“For work?” Is what he replies.

You nearly threw your phone across the threshold, the cry of delirious laughter on your lips at Ivar’s far too perfectly timed response. It had been madness with him back at work; catching up on two years' worth of delays, overbooking himself, and coming home in the middle of the night. Sleep was never easy for him, he had turned into a man who needed an orgasm to so simply think about closing his eyes. And the nights of fumblings between the sheets, soft moans and heavy breathing, Ivar telling you how he loves you, only helped him.

And you knew his pullout game sucked.

The magenta double lines that grace you back from the porcelain sink hitch your breath. After a step closer, two glances back, they remain there, almost smiling up at you. You can’t dwell on those marks, already telling yourself the tale that it was incorrect, but the other two tests, of the other two manufacturers, yielded the same promise. An ocean of chill runs down your spine, tugging against your tailbone and snapping into you like a pluck of a guitar string, propelling the sensation through to your toes. Finding your hand across your abdomen was a motion you didn’t even realize you had started, but the path was so plain. If your heart could leap from your chest and hug you back, it would. 

When you hear the creak of the garage door it’s not nearly as late as you had thought Ivar would be home. The medley of vegetables in one pot, the boiling pasta in the other, and before you can even speak, Ivar wraps himself against your back.

“Hey, handsome,” You hum, melting against him and he only squeezes tightly. 

“Hey, baby,” His lips rasp into your hair. “Missed you today,” Ivar adds as his nose trails the curve of your skull. “Are you making pasta primavera?”

“Yes,” You sigh and you’re certain you could fall asleep like this. “I got you something,” You then say, still swaying slightly with Ivar. 

“Yeah?” He rasps, finally pulling away from you for you to turn. His hair is already down, glasses where they belong for once, and he smiles when you catch his gaze. You’re quick to scurry away, yelling something about turning off the stove, and then you’re back, a small package in your hands. 

“It’s the most expensive gift I’ve gotten you,” You tease as the box shrinks when it’s in Ivar’s grasp.

“I told you that I don’t want another mustang, baby,” Ivar replies, pulling the ribbon off. “I like my Jeep.”

“It’s not….it’s not a mustang,” You snort.

“Oh, thank god,” Ivar says, shivering slightly as the thought leaves him. 

“You’ll like it, I promise,” You nudge and he finally lifts up the lid. You thought you could hear his breathing hitch, fuzziness in his eyes already starting as the positive pregnancy tests stare back at him. 

“No you’re not,” Ivar whimpers, “Are you fucking with me?” And his voice is meek, drowned out with emotion and you only tear up too. “No, you’re not,”

“We’re gonna have a baby, Ivar,” Are the first words out of your mouth. “You’re gonna be a dad,” You say, watching how his eyes move to your face, towards the test, shocked, mouth agape and he only whimpers. When he sets the box on the counter you’re there to wrap to fill his grasp. Falling into his arms and you can hear the slight sniffle from above you. It pulls one from you too, finally grasping the mental concept that Ivar really has dreamt about this moment his whole life. You wiggle slightly, pulling back and Ivar’s hands are still on your hips. With red eyes, he moves one paw to wipe the tear that’s threatening to escape. 

“I love you,” Ivar whispers and it makes you laugh when you repeat it back, hands on his cheeks as you bring your mouth to his. The kiss isn’t hurried, Ivar’s lips move as though he’s hardly focusing on the task and you can hear another sniffle as you pull back. Forehead resting along his and his eyes are closed. 

“I found out this morning,” You whisper to him.

“I’m waiting to wake up from the dream,” Ivar replies, and his eyes are still shut as he speaks.

“Your pullout game sucks, Ivar,” You say and that makes him laugh, thick from his stomach, and his eyes finally open as he pulls you to rest against him.

“This isn’t news to me, Y/N,” Ivar says. “I can’t believe we’re gonna have a baby,” He adds and when he does a new wave of tears starts in his eyes.

“Your mother is going to castrate you,” You say into the cotton of his shirt and he laughs again. “You and me Ivar,”

“Against the world,” He replies. “And as parents.”

*

His phone rings from next to him, your name on Ivar’s screen, and halfway through his sentence, he stops to smile. Excusing himself for a moment, he answers:

“Hey baby, I’m just finishing up with a client, I’ll call you right back,” And the line goes dead. You blink to yourself several times when you hear silence in your ear and as you look to the towel at your feet, you almost feel as though you’re going to cry.

After ten minutes you stop caring if he’s shooting the breeze with the person, and you’re dialing for him again as you lean against the kitchen counter.

“Hey, baby,” Ivar answers and it pulls the anger, anxiety from you and you suck in a deep breath. “Baby?”

“My water broke,” You simply say.

“When?” Ivar asks quickly and he’s standing, leaning his shoulder to hold his phone as he throws the closest thing he can reach in Sigurd’s direction. White eraser bouncing in front of him as he moves his gaze from his magazine to Ivar. “I’ll be right there,” He says. “Her water broke,” He calls to Sigurd and the man only offers a thumbs up.

“Ivar—fuck—Ivar listen to me, do not drive like a mad man,” You grit into your phone. “I need you here for this, alright?” Your words fall as he climbs into the Jeep.

“I won’t,” Ivar replies softly. “I promise. I’ll see you in a minute, alright?”

“Alright,” You say back.

“How far apart are they?” Ivar asks and you only smile. 

“Still far enough,”

“We’re going to get to meet her,” Ivar whispers and it makes your smile bigger.

His next call is to Floki, the phone ringing through Bluetooth and there’s a hum when he answers.

“Yeeeeeeees, Ivar?” Floki sings.

“Y/N’s water broke, I’m on my way home,” Ivar replies, and the laugh he’s known his whole life rings through the man’s mouth.

“Take a deep breath for me,” Floki says.

“I’ve taken several since I got into my car,” Ivar replies. “It’s the only thing keeping me from bursting into flames.” And they both laugh.

“I’ll head to the shop now, keep me in the loop. Oh—and Ivar, you have two hands. If she has to break one as she delivers your baby girl, so be it.” And the line goes dead. Ivar groans, his heart hammering behind his seatbelt and he doesn’t even bother to turn the car off when he parks in the driveway.

You’re in the same spot, hand crossing the bump and your eyes are stuck on the clock when you hear the door open. Another press of pain mangles its way through you, as if your guts are trying to come through your navel. Ivar calls your name and you turn, a soft smile on your face.

“Just put everything in the car,” You say and Ivar nods, completely ignoring your direction and coming towards you.

“I know you’re a medic—I know how many babies you’ve delivered with Hvitserk there, but this is different,” Ivar hums as he tips your chin, sealing the words to your mouth as he kisses you. “This is our baby,”

“I’m scared,” You whisper and Ivar moves his arms around to your back.

“I am too,” He admits. “Let’s get to the hospital,”

Despite how the nurse offers the wheelchair, you shake your head; walking has been the only aid to your contractions and she nods. Ivar’s hand is in yours as you’re laying along with the linens, thumb brushing your knuckles and he’s on his phone.

“Did you call your mom?” You ask.

“No,” He answers, eyes not moving to yours. “Only Floki so he can get to the shop. You need to focus on you right now,” He says, finally lifting his head to look at you. Brows towards the ceiling and the small smirk only makes you pout.

“You should try to get some sleep—”

“Baby,” Ivar says and you nod. Ivar moves only minutes later, sketchbook taking up his lap as his hand stays with yours. Your phone buzzes with a Snapchat from Hvitserk, quick zooming in of Engine 1 as one of the firefighters walk by it. You take the liberty to pan the room, from your gown-covered self, Ivar to your left and back to the windows on the other side. Less than ten seconds pass before his contact picture graces your screen.

“That’s how you tell me?” Hvitserk all but shrieks and even Ivar can hear it through the phone. “How long have you been there?”

“A few hours,” You answer back.

“Guys! Our Lieutenant’s in labor!” Hvitserk calls to the guys. “Put me on speaker—Ivar?”

“What, brother?” Ivar groans back.

“When we work labor calls, I always tell the mother that I have two hands—”

“And if she needs to break one so be it,” Ivar finishes for him, and his brother whines. “Floki said the same thing.”

“Fucking Floki,” Hvitserk mumbles. “We’ll be thinking about you two, and send us pictures.”

“You don’t want a video?” You tease.

“Nope—I know you well, but I don’t need to know you that well!” Hvitserk laughs.

“Oh, come on, it can be practice for you and Thora,” and you can see the man blush without even being in front of him. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“You’ve got this,” Hvitserk says and the line goes dead.

By the fourth time you find your legs in the stirrups, you’re about ready to take one out to grant the nurse’s face. The needle for the epidural was big, it was big enough that Ivar didn’t even look, that you as a regular needle handler, even felt shy from. When you feel the contraction roll through only a few seconds after the last one, you nudge Ivar. His head on your shoulder flies up and your look answers his question before he even has to ask it.

“Dad, are you cutting the cord?” The nurse asks and Ivar looks back at you as if he needs your permission before he can think of an answer.

“Yes,” Ivar says back and he’s by your side, hand tracing your bent knee, sliding your thigh and it helps to calm you. Before your first push, you’re already crying, Ivar’s there to pull the hair from your face as it sticks to where you’ve started to sweat. As you curse him, his last name, his size and weak pull-out game and Ivar only agrees with each word as they come through your lips. Before you’ve even crowned you’ve decided that you don’t want to do this anymore.

“I hate you right now,” You hiss, and Ivar nods.

Twelve hours of sitting, standing, walking, swaying, trying almost everything in the manual to help progress her just a bit further than the last hour. Ivar adorned in scrubs, trying to contain his excitement, your partner in crime trying to experience it with you as well as he could, attempting to leech some of the pain in the meantime. 

One week shy of her due date, Ivar’s there to see his daughter born. Through tears and strings of curse words, sweat-slick clothes, she is finally here.  Watering eyes flicking to yours as her cry fills the room. Your whine is there next and she’s against your chest the minute she’s able. IV poked hand coming to cup her diapered rear, head against the pillow and you’re crying. You’re crying as Ivar’s lips brush your hairline, as he’s crying, as the head nurse films the moment per your request. Ivar studies the newborn in utter disbelief, eyes switching from its cotton-covered head to your face, overstuffed with pure adoration. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Ivar whispers in your ear, his hand covering yours over the child you two created together.

“Look at her, Ivar,” You whisper and he is, he hasn’t stopped yet, the tuft of dark hair on her head that matches his own as her small hands balled into fists. His daughter laying against your chest and he has to wipe his eyes. There’s an upset from her for a brief moment, wiggle and a cry, and instinctively Ivar’s lips shush her, his voice lulling through her ears and she quiets. “That’s your dad,” You say to her.

Ivar’s moment for the skin on skin finally came and he’s next to you. Seated, shirt off, and the nurse hands him the bundle. Pink cotton on an inked chest as Ivar’s hand pats her bottom, nearly swarming the infant as a whole. You can’t hear him, but you see his lips moving, eyes peeking down at the bundle that’s looking up at him. A full conversation on his side and you’re tearing up again, snapping a picture for Hvitserk, your parents, and his, for Floki and Ivar laughs as he watches her yawn.

“Oh, am I boring you, miss?” Ivar coos and you smile. “I know you’ve had such a big day,” He says. “You have no idea how loved you already are.”

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