#love this little au that has been floating in my notes since the last year starrison week

[odxrilove]

SILVER PLATTER – l.jn

pairing: jeno x f!reader

genre: band!au (not mentionned much!!), uni!au, friends to ?, 3k~

synopsis: when you get confessed to in front of your friends and band members, not everyone seems to think it's funny.

back to masterlist!

“– I know that we aren’t really close but ever since the day you asked for my notes in our english literature seminar last year, i’ve been admiring you from afar! You always look so mysterious and so cool and- and, you’re even in a band! I- I don’t really listen to your group’s music except for your parts– your voice is really beautiful!– i’ve loved you for so long and i–” 

“But,” you cut off the nervous boy’s rambling a little too firmly than you would have liked, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to calm yourself down. “I don't know you…” 

There it is, the sentence that makes Donghyuck burst out into laughter. 

You can hear a stifled laugh from where you’re standing near the guitar stands and you don’t even have to guess to know who the culprit is. You can feel your friends’ eyes boring holes in your back from the other side of the room and you just know Jaemin and Donghyuck are having a field day seeing you like this. 

When you look back at the boy in front of you, you audibly sigh as he turns beet red, holding his hands in front of him and staring at his shoes. “Look, i’m sure you’re a really nice guy but i’m not really interested in dating–” 

You feel bad, even more so when he– whose name is still unknown– gives you puppy eyes. Automatically, your voice softens as much as possible and a frown takes over your face. 

“–you.”

Your back is still turned to your friends but you know they are listening in on the conversation as best as they can, hungry for anything with which they can tease you with. 

Donghyuck is glued onto every word you tell the poor boy, narrating everything in a whisper to Renjun. Renjun (you pity him, truly) doesn’t seem fazed by the ongoing situation, which only makes his best friend complain. 

You don’t even have to glance their way to know that Donghyuck is probably taking up all the space on one of the couches in the corner of the music room, legs dangling off and arms crossed over the backrest. 

You’re sure he’s smiling with every second that passes. He’s so evil, you think.

The boy in front of you seems to space out for a minute or so and you, being the awkward person and people pleaser you are, stay still in place, patiently and nervously waiting for him to gather his thoughts. 

He snaps out of it when he hears Jaemin chuckle about disliking “tomatoes” and you don’t think you’ve ever wished to be buried six feet under as much as you do now. Why can’t they just act normal in delicate situations!

You cross your arms over your chest, your hoodie (Jeno’s hoodie, so unofficially your hoodie) keeping you warm as cold wind enters the room every time someone opens the door. 

This is awkward– worser than usual.

It’s not the first time someone has confessed to you, but it certainly is the first time that you can’t even place a name on the person asking you out. Guilt fills your veins but you’re sure the guy doesn’t feel that good himself either. 

You place the notebook you were holding on the desk next to you and rake a hand through your hair, other hand on your hip as you wait. And wait.

The hoodie hangs comfortably off your shoulders and the mix of laundry detergent, mint and raspberry-lemonade fills your nostrils. In a way, the scent is comforting, surrounding and hugging you. 

You really like Jeno’s laundry detergent. Maybe he can tell you the brand he uses.

You also really like how fruity the hoodie smells– hints of raspberry floating in the air around you– just like the smoothie Jeno had bought for you earlier that morning. You think it’s cute how there is something that “belongs” to you on something that belongs to Jeno (you even smile a bit at the thought). 

Oh. This feels weird.

Just before you can turn around and glance at your friends, a small voice interrupts your thoughts. It takes you a few seconds to realize the boy (he’s probably a few years younger than you– maybe a sophomore?) is talking to you and when his eyes meet yours, he quickly clears his throat and starts over. 

God, you feel awful. You’re the worst senior ever.

This time, you really try to focus on his words, although the giggles and teasing chuckles coming from the back of the room make it a really difficult task. “uhm, you- you said you didn’t want to date me,” he gulps and you almost cringe at the tremor in his voice (poor, poor guy) “is it because you have someone else?” 

Well, you didn’t expect him to be so blunt minutes after getting rejected. 

Nodding your head a few times, your tongue feels numb and your fingers start to tingle at how tight you curl them into a first. You don’t really know what to say, partially because you don’t want to make the boy cry and also because you know your friends are listening. 

Donghyuck is listening (he’s always listening) and everyone knows how dramatic he can be. He would probably gasp and claim your reputation as the hot sultry cold-hearted bassist of your band is ruined.

Jeno is listening too. You don’t even want to start thinking about his possible reaction– that can be a problem for another day (procrastinating is your biggest flaw).

Oh well, honesty comes first. Your mom would be proud if she knew.

The words coming out of your mouth in waves are barely comprehensible and you realize mid-sentence that the one supposed to understand them the most doesn’t. So, after a sigh and a deep breath, you start over. 

“I’m single but I do have my eyes on,” you pause, voice cracking and ears red– you can just feel them watching you, ”someone.” 

(You hope the boy doesn’t realize how awkward and stiff you are).

It’s like waiting for a verdict, standing there in the middle of the room while the boy slowly comes to realization. When it finally dawns on him, he throws his backpack on a desk nearby and starts to quickly gather his things, scrambling to put them in his flimsy bag. 

Your mouth falls open but nothing comes out so you just stare in surprise. Just when he begins to zip up his bag, he turns to you and upon finding you staring at him, flinches, sending his open bag toppling to the ground. 

Notebooks, pens and papers cover the ground soon after and at the disheartening sight at your feet, you crouch down alongside the sophomore (or freshman, you’re not sure) to help him pick his stuff up. He likely didn’t notice you crouching down to help him because he flinches even harder when you accidentally brush up against his sleeve.

In a split second, he’s out the door, the words “I’m sorry” dying on your tongue. He’s left behind a few scattered papers, a textbook you were holding out to him and a single pen hiding near a desk leg. 

You, on the other hand, are ready to bury yourself alive. What an awful day (it all started this morning when you ran out of milk for your cereals– ugh, you really don’t want to talk about it!)

With a huff and pressed lips you get up from your spot on the floor, brushing off the dust from your knees and picking up your notebook from one of the desks. Shame overwhelms you as you walk back to your friends in the corner of the room, holding both books in your hands and trying not to let the embarrassment take over– you’ll probably cry. 

Jaemin is the first one to greet you with a grin you can only describe as malicious. His arms are crossed over his chest and he seems to have enjoyed the scene, just like Donghyuck, who whistles and pushes your thigh with the tip of his shoe when you walk by. 

You throw the two notebooks on the old shabby coffee table and plop down on the couch, burying yourself as deep as possible in the sofa. You grab a pillow next to you and put it on your lap, using it as a shield for your eyes. 

Donghyuck continues to laugh all throughout and you even hear Renjun let out a little chuckle. Assholes. 

Jeno is the only one you haven’t heard from since you’ve come back to your little circle and when you uncover your eyes, you notice how his jaw is clenched. He looks intimidating, one arm hanging off the armrest and the other behind you on the headrest. He’s lazily tapping the side of the couch with his fingers but you know it’s only to calm himself down. You don’t realize you’re staring until he speaks up. 

“Stop trying to analyze me, psych major freak.” oof.

You roll your eyes, huffing and expressing your discontent through a pout as you hug the pillow. It’s not long before he gives in and flicks your forehead, eyes softening. “Stop trying to make me feel bad, it almost works.” He mutters. 

(You like that you know his weaknesses by heart).

“Hey yn,” You whip your head around at the mention of your name. “you’ sure the guy wasn’t something for you? I heard he works at that new cafe on campus you like.” Jaemin laughs at his own joke and highfives Donghyuck, proud of himself. 

You fall silent for a short while. “Is that why I kinda recognized him?– anyways, that doesn’t matter, he could literally be my little brother!” You whine a bit, “you’re not even being funny…”

Renjun tsks at his friends’ behavior but continues mindlessly scrolling through his phone, clearly more invested in a random reddit AITA tiktok video than their endless banter. 

This time, it’s Donghyuck that decides you need to be teased. “So, are you going to tell us who your prince charming is, the oh-so famous guy you like?”

“Absolutely not.” 

“Oh c’mon!” Donghyuck offendedly throws his hands in the air, “If Jeno had asked you, you would have told him..” 

You can only chuckle a bit as your friend had already given up, sliding down the couch to prop his feet on the coffee table, ultimately making it creak. Jeno doesn’t miss the way your cheeks heat up, and you don’t miss how he smirks because he knows ‘Hyuck’s right. 

A small group on the other side of the room starts prepping some instruments so you let yourself relax, falling back against the backrest and pulling the hoodie’s sleeves over your hands. 

You really enjoy hanging out with your friends in the music room, it’s never boring. More often than not, the room is completely empty for you to use, and with its couches, taking naps between band practice is a must and a privilege on campus. 

Your seat on the red couch is your self-designated spot, and sometimes when you’re feeling extra childish, you tease Jeno about having deliberately picked the spot next to you, even though you know Renjun always chooses the beanbag and the other two always run for the leather couch, leaving him with no other option than next to you. 

Jeno never denied your claim though, because with time it’s like he indeed deliberately chooses the seat next to you, every single time. 

He also likes hearing and seeing you giggle after you tease him, but you don’t have to know that. 

If Jeno had to be honest with himself, he knew he was a bad liar when it came to you, but that didn’t stop him from trying to act like he was oblivious to your friends’ teasing concerning your close friendship. 

He knows they would probably text him later that day, snarky comments about how you’ve been wearing his clothes much more regularly than usual. And like always, Jeno would just send a disapproving text back, followed by two or three middle fingers emojis, depending on his mood. 

Tonight, it would surely be five middle fingers. 

There’s one thing he can’t deny though, and it’s that you are indeed wearing his clothes more regularly. At first, he would roll his eyes when seeing you in one of his sweaters during class, just to keep the act up, but now, he can’t help but look you up and down and give you a little nod. 

You had loved to point out that he smiled yesterday morning when seeing you, which he rushed to deny, ears furiously turning red. 

You looked good though– maybe he would lend you his new green hoodie (moreso “accidently” leaving it at yours after hanging out). He just knows the color would suit you.

His arm is still on the headrest behind you and your hair brushes against his sleeve. He could pat your head right now, or fiddle with the loose strands of your hair, his hand is right behind you. He doesn’t let himself indulge in that little fantasy (he’d prefer to call it a fleeting thought) of his though. Not yet at least.

Your eyes glance over jeno’s profile, watching his hair fall in front of his eyes and his eyelashes flutter, before a small chuckle escapes your mouth. You turn to Donghyuck just as Jeno looks at you, curious. 

“Maybe I’ll tell y’all one day.” You smirk, acting disinterested as you study your nails, shrugging, “Maybe not.” 

A loud whine escapes Donghyuck and you have to cover your giggles so as to not “offend” him more. Your friend drags his plea on, lifting his arms in the air to show his desperation and getting slapped on the arm by Jaemin in the process, trying to shut him up.

Shivers run down your spine when you feel Jeno’s breath near your cheek and your eyes widen slightly, not used to the proximity. When you turn your face to look at him, body slightly stiff, you make eye contact with him and he seems entertained by your reaction. With the way his eyes shine and his lips are curled, you know his tone is going to be teasing. “Y’know, you were very professional back there..” 

You don’t answer directly, startled, so your laugh sounds a bit breathless as you try to find the right words, your mouth suddenly dry. “You think so?” 

He hums, leaning back a bit and spreading his legs before lifting one over the other. “If you need me to pretend to be your boyfriend, just ask,” With a grin, he swipes his fluffy hair back, some strands immediately falling back, too unruly, “I’ll come running.” 

You’re surprised by his forwardness but can’t help but find it endearing– the way his smile turns warm and adoration fills his eyes. It’s something you’ve always enjoyed seeing in Jeno, and knowing it’s directed towards you makes you giddy, your cheeks heating up.

You’re shying away but you don’t really want him to know all the effect he has on you– although you’re sure he knows quite well already– so you tease back, head tilting to the side, “Jeno Lee, are you offering yourself to me on a silver platter?” You furrow your eyebrows dramatically, mouth opening in a mocking gasp. 

In return, Jeno eyes your crossed arms and cocks an eyebrow, “I wouldn’t want to overshadow your crush though.” 

You lick your lips and Jeno stares.

“He won’t have to know.” 

A smile breaks out onto his face and you tear your gaze away, too embarrassed by your own words to face him. You can still feel his eyes on the side of your face so you look down to his jeans, swiftly flicking his upper thigh to direct his attention elsewhere. Anywhere but on you really. 

A short chuckle leaves him before he’s coughing to cover it up, wanting to please you. It’s not long before he too faces your other friends and allows himself to relax a bit, finally rejoining the friendly banter in your circle. 

You don’t question it and Jeno doesn’t express it but the arm he slides over the backrest and around the back of your neck and shoulders means something. The weight of his toned arm feels nice on your shoulders and the touch of his fingertips against the sleeve of your hoodie is almost fleeting, but still present. 

Unconsciously, you smile and Jeno thinks you’ve never been prettier, with his arm around you and a soft blush adorning your cheeks. 

taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @cherriespopsicle @odetoyeonjun @sensitively-taken @pockyandme @soobin-chois @lolalee24 @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @todorokiskitten @4xiaojun @chokopocky @silverdoragon @neos127 @angelyeo-hyj @dokyeomkyeom @moonkyeom

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[irisintheafterglow]

End Game #5 (volleyball captain!gojo x you)

summary: your school holds a practice match with kyoto, and two second-years give your team a little trouble.

word count: 3k

cw/tags: language, jjk volleyball au, mentions of food and eating, eventual best friends to lovers (not this chapter BUT WE'RE MAKING PROGRESS I SWEAR), satoru pulls another your mom joke

note: HERE IT IS the long awaited part 5 :D introducing hitter!todo and setter!kamo to rival your fav hitter/setter duos on the tokyo team. long chapter, sorry in advance but i hope you enjoy!

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated !! thank you for all of the support you've given this series :)

“We haven’t held a practice match with Kyoto in years, right?”

“That is correct.”

“And, in that time, have they ever had a different coach?”

“Not that I know of, no.”

“Interesting.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Nothing, I was just–”

“They’re wondering why ol’ Yoshinobu looks like he was present for the Big Bang.” Your team’s captain finishes your explanation from behind you, much to the amusement of Yaga. You meet his gaze incredulously, silently asking why he wasn’t with the rest of the team warming up. He shrugs and gives you a signature lopsided grin that makes your heart do a somersault. “You’re not wrong, though. That man has more wrinkles than a wet paper towel.” 

Your coach draws his mouth into a tight line to suppress a chuckle. “I cannot disagree.”

“Yaga!” A surprised laugh finally slips past your lips while Satoru settles into his place at your side, casually stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. His electric-blue eyes survey the players running serve drills, cool and calculated. “Yuta’s floats have improved tremendously,” you comment, and Satoru hums in agreement. His eyes narrow on a ball striking the top edge of the net and barely falling over to the other side. You feel Yaga intake a deep breath in preparation to yell directions, but Satoru beats him to it, airily reminding Yuuji to take a running start before jumping. Your eyebrows subtly raise in surprise seeing him take initiative and you can’t help smiling at him out of the corner of your eye. 

“Shouldn’t you be on the court, capt–” His head snaps in your direction, laser focused on the last word that you cut off just in time. His eyes twinkle with arrogant satisfaction and you stick your tongue out defiantly.

“What was that, my lovely manager?” He cups his hand to his ear and leans in closer, movements animated like a cartoon character. 

You push his body away but he doesn’t budge. “I was asking why you’re not on the court warming up with the rest of the team, stupid.”

He hums skeptically. “Sure.” You roll your eyes and shake your head slightly in exasperation, wishing again for that I am done with Gojo Satoru bumper sticker. Yaga shoots Satoru a look over your head that makes him recoil a little bit, running a hand through his hair. “If you’re really wondering, I’m reading Kyoto’s players.” 

“The third years?” You nod toward the tall players slamming powerful serve after powerful serve toward your team’s side. 

“No, they haven’t been a threat since I was a first-year. Their serves are intimidation tactics.” Your eyebrows furrow confusedly and you track Satoru’s dark eyes. “I’m reading them.” His fingers rest on your head and gently rotate your gaze to two players leisurely prepping serves. In any other situation, you’d swat his hand away, but he was surprisingly correct. It hadn’t occurred to you to analyze the other team; your focus was preoccupied on the improvements of your own players. But, now that they were directly in your line of sight, you were able to properly deduce why Satoru had taken interest in them. “See ‘em now?”

“Yeah, I do.” The one closer to you was an average height but built. Thick, corded muscle ran over his biceps and calves, flexing as he stretched his neck and legs. He bounces the ball he holds on the ground a few times, clapping to himself routinely. Then, when a scan reveals none of your players are watching him, he fires off a serve neatly landing on the backline of the court. Your players don’t blink an eye as they’re still focused on warming up, but you finally understand why Satoru was watching him. His serves were like a bullet, precise and gone in a blink as if he teleported the ball wherever he wanted. 

“Who is he?”

“His name’s Todo. One of two second-year prodigies that’ll carry Kyoto to Nationals if we don’t stop them first.”  

“He’s that good?”

“Him and that one, over there.” He points to a player tucked into the back corner of the gym, spinning the ball on a delicate finger. He was one of the tallest on the team but you didn’t notice him because of his place in the shadows. Cloudy gray eyes shined as his captain announced the start of spiking drills and you gasped when he set the ball with accuracy nearly on-par with Satoru. The ball moved in a straight, unwavering line, like an arrow that halted just in time for a hitter to punch it over the net. “That’s Kamo. Megs and I have known him since middle school. He’s talented, though his family is a little wacky.” 

“Satoru, you can’t just say things like that,” you whisper, begging him to drop the volume of his voice a little.

He doesn’t. “It’s true. Some relatives kicked him and his mom out when he was little.”

“What does that have to do with volleyball?” 

“Nothing. It’s just trivia. We’ll be fine, either way.” He smirks down at you and you understand. Even if he was reading the Kyoto team, he wasn’t worried. He was confident and self-assured as always, but had a certain determination in his eye that told you he wasn’t going to hold back despite it being a practice match. His lean bicep bumps your shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, if you’re nervous, I’ll just piss off Suguru again. Get him fired up, you know?”

You shake your head adamantly, one hand coming up to cover your face as you squeeze your eyes shut at the memory of running practice in Yaga’s absence. “Please do not. I don’t want to have to drag you out by your earlobes again.” 

“You had to do what?” You and Satoru both stiffen, completely forgetting that Yaga was listening to your conversation the entire time. You attempt to stutter out an explanation while your captain makes a quick escape, bowing unceremoniously in salute and running to join the rest of his players. Soon after, Satoru is pulling the team into a huddle, murmuring warnings about Todo and Kamo and reminding everyone that they’re paying for dinner if they lose. However, instead of groans and protests, you watch Satoru light a decisive fire in his players’ eyes by encouraging them to try the new techniques they’ve been working on.

“If you fail,” he said, “that’s okay.” A lanky arm slapped Suguru on the back and another pulled a tense Nanami closer to his side. “We’ll be here to support you. So, don’t lose.” The team’s fists punch up into the air and you beam at their earnestness. Yaga seemed pleased as well, muttering something under his breath about someone finally getting through his stubbornness. 

Kyoto wins the first set, but Tokyo pulls back ahead to snag the second, leaving the third set as a tiebreaker. Between scribbling point counts and player stats in your notebook, you keep a keen eye on the two players Satoru was talking about earlier. Todo was a talented player, though he had an odd habit of clapping for himself before every serve. You also caught Megumi scowling as Todo talked up Yuuji between plays, catching parts of their conversation revolving around tastes in women and TV shows. Kamo, on the other hand, was relatively quiet. He didn’t speak unless it was a recommendation on strategy or directing the ball to a hitter. Megumi was competing head-to-head with Kamo often, despite Satoru’s attempts to draw attention away from his underclassman. He had a weird fascination with Megumi, you could tell, as he targeted him for 90% of his spikes. Todo and Kamo proved to be a threatening duo in the same way Satoru and Suguru or Megumi and Yuuji were; to your amusement, they also bickered just as much. 

During the last break before the third set while you hand out water and towels, Suguru follows behind you like a duckling, waiting for you to have a moment to talk. 

You catch his eye over your shoulder as you drop towels into the laundry basket. “Did I forget that special flavor thing for yours again? I swear I remembered to put it in because of the one that goes in Satoru’s.” 

“What? Oh, no, that’s not what I’m here to talk about.” He crosses his arms and his sharp eyebrows pull together in deep thought, taking a deep breath. 

You tilt your head to the side curiously, concerned about what was irking him so much in the middle of a match. “Is everything okay, Su?”

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing is wrong, I promise.” You raise your eyebrows in anticipation of his explanation. “I was just wondering what you said to Satoru that made him like…that.” 

“Like what?”

“Like acting as a serious captain.” 

“Oh.” You’re speechless for a moment, unable to string together a satisfactory answer. “I just told him that he needed to try a little harder.” It was the truth but for some reason, you still felt you were holding something back. 

“For your sake?”

“No, for the team’s sake. Why would it be for my sake?” Suguru is silent, eyes widening ever so slightly like he’d accidentally revealed a secret, glancing behind you at the open air. You feel confident enough to press further. “Suguru, why would he try more for my sake?” 

In a blink, he schools his face into careful blankness, shrugging nonchalantly. “Don’t know. It was a weird question, sorry.”

“What was a weird question?” Satoru’s voice pipes up from over your shoulder and you jump. “You can’t be asking people weird questions, Suguru. It’s impolite.” 

“You don’t even know the question, idiot.” Indignancy washes over Suguru’s blank features. “What would you know about manners?”

“Ask your mother what she thinks of my manners–”

“Can we please not do this again?” Your hands press against their chests and you laugh nervously. “It’s a miracle all three of us survived last time.”

“Fine. After all…” Satoru’s voice drops to a menacing volume. 

“Kyoto has a set to lose.” 

The third set made you slightly dizzy as both teams were losing stamina. You didn’t know much about Kyoto when it was exhausted, but you knew your team when it was down. Yuuji’s serves started getting closer to the top edge of the net again, Megumi’s sets were messier, and Panda’s blocks were increasingly hole-filled. Suguru glared across the court at the other team, moisture glistening on his forehead from effort. Even Nanami was winded, wiping sweat from the lenses of his glasses and shaking his head furiously to force his mind back into the game. Your team played their hardest, as did their opponents, but a glance at the score showed 12-10 in favor of Kyoto. With only a handful of points left to win, it looked like Tokyo would be paying for dinner. 

Still, as much as they tried, Kyoto was no match for Satoru’s sheer will. 

Where the rest of his team was panting and on the brink of collapsing, Satoru was just getting warmed up. His serves were at their most powerful and his sets stayed accurate as Kamo’s declined in quality. His fists opened and closed as the score tied up at 13-13, a habit he only did when he was ready for a fight. Megumi pulls a ridiculously successful dump that has you cheering from Yaga’s side, pulling Tokyo ahead 14-13. With the last point on the line, you caught Satoru muttering something in Suguru’s ear, to which Suguru’s jaw dropped in disbelief. He shook his head no, continuing to protest at Satoru’s back as his captain broadcasted a hand signal you’d never seen before and prepared possibly the last serve of the match. 

“It’ll be fine, Suguru! We’re the strongest!” He reassures his nauseous-faced hitter as his opponents snicker, and gives you a quick wink before serving the ball at 45% of his power. Your eyebrows skyrocket in shock as Kyoto receives it easily and makes to tie the score again. What the hell was he doing? Was he purposefully trying to tie up the score? Kamo smirks as he gives a practically perfect set to Todo, who blasts it straight down. You flinch and wait for the gut-churning sound of the ball hitting the floor, but it doesn’t come. Yuuji’s forearm slides under the ball just in time, and he rolls to the side. The receive isn’t the cleanest, dropping toward the middle of the court. 

“You better know what you’re doing!” Suguru calls after his captain, who sprints from the back left corner diagonally toward the net. Suguru mirrors this action from the right corner and like a machine, they screech to a stop in the middle and use that momentum to throw themselves up toward the net. With a mischievous grin, Satoru calls out Inumaki’s name, who’s already in the air from the backline as the ball carefully falls into the libero’s outstretched fingers. 

Your body finds itself standing on its own as Inumaki sets it right to Satoru’s open palm where your captain pulls the nastiest cross shot you’d ever witnessed. Your throat rips a shocked scream that blends seamlessly with the rest of the players’ exclamations of awe. Yaga’s mouth hangs open like a fish, as does Yoshinobu’s while your team swarms around their captain. Suguru, from the other end of the net, appears on the verge of passing out but still finds his hand proudly clapped with Inumaki’s. When Satoru’s eyes find yours, you can’t remember the last time he smiled at you so blindingly, nor can you remember a time beaming just as happily.

He skips the joint dinner between Tokyo and Kyoto, humbly excusing himself when you leave and announcing something about walking you home safely. He falls into step next to you, shoes tapping on the sidewalk in sync with yours. 

“You’re not gonna get dinner with the team?” You ask, well aware that he wouldn’t have attended unless you were there too. 

“Meh,” he drawls. “Yuuji can fend for himself for a night against Todo, and Megumi needs to learn to play nice with Kamo.” 

The corner of your mouth turns up and you find yourself admiring the way the moonlight glittered in Satoru’s eyes. “You say as if they’re your children.”

“Are they not? I am a single father.” 

You giggle. “Yeah, you definitely are. I just didn’t think that, with your extroverted ass, you’d skip an outing with such a large group.”

His mouth quirks carefreely, beautiful eyes tracing constellations in the night. “We have a tradition, don’t we?”

“Oh, you’re not going to ask that one person I got mad about the other night?” The words slip from your lips before you can stop them, and Satoru points at you accusingly. 

“So you were mad! I knew it!” 

“You brought up replacing me with some random stranger; of course I was mad!” You point back at him, poking his chest. He cries out in fake pain, flailing his limbs like an octopus. “I like spending time with you, you know. Even when I don’t tell you.” Your voice trails off and you look anywhere but his face, embarrassed. 

You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, I know. For the record, I like spending time with you too.” He exhales tiredly. “Why’d you think you’re the only one I wanted to get dinner with tonight?”

“Because you like me better than everybody else,” you croon, fluttering your eyelashes dramatically. You expect him to recoil in faux-fear; however, your heart skips as he steps closer and peers down at you. 

“Exactly. Now you’re starting to get it.” His voice is soft with something like exasperation, but the tenderness is gone in a snap. “However, I’d like to do something different tonight, if that’s alright with you.”

Your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Depends on what it is. Are you going to make me eat something I don’t like?”

“No,” he replies, drawing out the last vowel for emphasis. “I’d never.” You look at him skeptically, remembering the time he made you eat a barbecue-flavored cricket. The memory must have occurred to him at the same time and he matches your skeptical expression. “Don’t look at me like that; you said you liked it.” Your mouth opens in retaliation, but he isn’t finished. 

“Let’s go somewhere nicer tonight, not just shitty fast food.”

“I thought you loved shitty fast food.”

“I do, but today is a day of celebration! It demands a different meal than burgers.” He cringes and sticks his tongue out in mock disgust. 

“So, what? You want slightly more expensive burgers?”

“If that’s what you want, sure.” He runs an elegant hand through his hair and you fight the sudden urge to weave your fingers in his. “Let’s go somewhere nice. I’ll even pay.” 

You scoff. “With what money?” He’s quiet again, tilting his head back and forth like a kid caught with too much candy. You understand without a word, mainly because this situation occurred once before. “Satoru!” 

His arms gesture to open air defensively. “It was right there!”

“You don’t remember the last time you stole it?”

“If I recall correctly, he wasn’t that mad that I borrowed it.”

“Yeah, that’s because I was there with you, and don’t try to say it was borrowing! If you weren’t related to him, it would be considered theft.” 

“What dear old dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him, babe.” Your face heats at how easily the pet name slips from his pretty mouth and you pray he doesn’t notice. “So? What do you say? I promise to take full responsibility and also eat anything you don’t like.” His finger crosses an “X” over his heart and you can’t resist the genuine excitement on his face. 

“Fine. But I’m paying for dessert.”

He stamps his foot in childish protest. “That’s not how this–”

“I don’t care if it’s not how it works, Satoru. Consider it payback for not asking that rando to dinner.” 

Even after he walks you home and leaves you a smiling, feeling-filled mess at your windowsill, you’re left wondering who that mystery person is.

[ceebit]

⠀⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀⠀ yours ⠀· j. hong

⟡ note : i’m trying a new layout out ? anyway. this is a continuation ? of sorts ? of my beloved soulmate!au… i’m still so happy it was received so well. thank you to the lovely anons who asked for this. ^_^

⟡ wc : 1.5k. reader’s perspective this time. enjoy :)

it’s been a year since then, but you still can’t shake the feeling that you know him from somewhere.

because you’ve heard of soulmates. of red string, of fate, of instant connections that happen on pure coincidence that last for years and years to come, but you’re sure it’s not any of that. not even close.

that rainy morning in that small café sparked an itch in your head you can’t seem to scratch no matter how hard you wrack your brain for any time you might have seen him before. you know it’s partly ridiculous, because you know you haven’t seen him before, but the feeling still stubbornly persists.

that’s how you find yourself peering at him curiously as he floats about your apartment, hand tousled hair and wrinkled sleep shirt a testament to his highly disheveled appearance. you wonder how he seems to know where you keep everything—not once has he asked where you keep your mugs or the sugar or your baking necessities. alarms should be going off on all fronts, but you feel strangely at peace.

it should scare you. it doesn’t.

“penny for your thoughts?” 

warmth wafts under your nose as he places a cup of coffee just within reach. you don’t have to bring it to your lips to know he’s made it just how you like, again without asking. 

“i feel a bit strange,” you admit, and his brows raise before settling into the seat across from you. your fingertips drum against the surface of your countertop. “i still can’t help but feel like i know you.”

“we’ve been dating for a few months now.” his response is murmured over the rim of his mug, expression coy even in his relaxed state. “i’d be a little upset if you didn’t know what my favorite color was.”

someone asked me what my favorite color was today.

really? did you say something expected like green? you seem like a green person. specifically sage green.

i’m going to take that as a compliment.

don’t be a smartass. what is it! and don’t say something cheesy like the color of my eyes, or something.

my favorite color is now sage green, then.

“love?”

you shake your head and blink, glancing down at the hand now laced with yours in concern. 

“my eyes,” you mumble, and something in his expression makes your heart climb into your throat.

joshua smiles faintly and squeezes your hand once. “that’s right. finish your coffee or it’ll get cold.”

you dream of vanilla and soft linens. of laughter and self made lanterns. of whipped cream and kisses in the dark and the familiar weight of his hand in yours.

it’s not your body. but it is at the same time.

he’s the same every time.

you startle awake still smelling sugar but only find yourself in bed, his arm draped over your middle in deep sleep. moonlight still streams in cut patterns across your shared room.

you still can’t shake that odd feeling of deja vu.

you were never a serious fan of grocery shopping before him. the long lines always made you put it off until you absolutely needed to restock, and you had no patience to wait until time crawled by enough to allow you to set your wants on the conveyor belt. the clerks always looked like they didn’t want to be there, trapped in the endless hamster wheel of work, work, work—a better life dangling in front of them like celery hung from a string—and you could relate. you didn’t want to be there, either. crowds had never suited you well, and if one more mom looked at you pitifully as you inspected the vegetable aisle in mild distaste, you were seriously going to lose it.

“the best time for grocery shopping is in the morning, silly,” he told you once you’d voiced your opinions, mirth dancing in his eyes. “grocery shopping is peaceful when you know what times to avoid the major surges.”

you had laughed, moving to resting your head on his shoulder, and didn’t think much of conversation since then. but without telling you, he’d cleared your schedule out, going as far as to wake you up at six in the morning. the sun bled colors in bright brushstrokes and the sharp chill of the cold window against your cheek helped you stay awake.

breakfast is sweet and you watch the sun rise and finally color the sky a pretty light blue. he peers at you curiously and you brush pastry cream from the corner of his lips.

and of course, he was right. but he didn’t need to know that.

arm looped in his, you find being tugged along as he pushed the cart didn’t seem to be that bad after all. ambient noise fades into the background with the gentle music playing over the speakers, and there isn’t a single crying child in any aisle.

joshua glances over to find content displayed openly on your features and laughs.

are the watermelons even ripe?

i really couldn’t tell you. my mother somehow always knew, though. she had good intuition like that. we’d have smoothies and fruit pops and melonade.

melonade?

mm. watermelon lemonade. it’s really good, i’ll have to make it for you sometime.

i’ll hold you to that. 

we need to find some good ones, then. is your intuition any good?

“is your intuition any good?” 

“what?” he stops in his tracks, forcing you to stop with him. “what was that?”

embarrassment floods through your body like wildfire. “sorry. i just—never mind. it’s stupid.”

“is it?”

his gaze is heavy. almost stripping you bare, and you feel it’s far too early to have a crisis in the middle of the vegetable aisle. you look away, heart thundering in your chest. what is happening?

“we should get some watermelon,” you say instead.

“whatever you want. fruits are in the next aisle.”

waves brush past your feet. sun kissed skin and seagulls call overhead. his sun hat sits perched on your head and you laugh when he waves from deeper in the water. the drink in your hand is sweet and familiar. music spins a soft tune nearby.

stolen kisses in a library. saturated reds and oranges cast pretty shadows against your skin. sunlight peeks and glints on the rings that adorn his fingers and you’re reminded of where you stand. of where you both stand.

run away with me. arguments. tears. the sound of the wind brushing past your ears on horseback. the cold stings. your fingers are numb and your heart hurts. i can’t. it’s not right.

is any of this right?! i don’t want this. never wanted any of this. i just want you.

you can’t look at him. can’t bear the sight of him at all. not like this.

i’m sorry.

you’re not sleeping. he worries. you know he worries, and yet slumber is not your friend and it laughs when you close your eyes and try will it nearer anyway.

“are you hiding anything from me?”

“never.” his voice is hushed. he stands on the other side of your room, motionless. “i would never—”

“i have these strange dreams. of me, but not-me. and you, but not-you. but i’ve only just met you, so i don’t understand and it’s driving me insane.”

you shove your shaking hands under your thighs and look out of the window. his gaze burns against your bare skin.

“what do you see in your dreams?”

weddings. star-crossed lovers. love that bends time and space itself. the same hand that slipped a ring on your finger, over and over and again and again.

you’re an artist in one. royalty in the next, merfolk in another, stars, bakers, gods, and so on. you don’t understand how you remember memories of lives you know you haven’t lived but still feel anyway.

“who are you?” 

he crosses the space between you two, then. 

“yours.”

you promise?

there’s a reason why we keep finding each other. i don’t know why, but it feels like the universe likes pushing us in the same direction, however that may be. 

i always forget you. or about you. whichever. i’m sorry.

i think that’s the price. a new life is the start, finding you is the journey, and helping you remember is the price.

and the reward?

i already have it. waking up with memories of you is the biggest reward i could ever be given. it helps. during the times when i’m alone and i don’t have you.

i’m sorry i don’t remember. i wish i could. 

don’t be. knowing i’ll find you one day and get to fall in love with you over and over again, however you come back to me, is more than enough.

“do you remember now?”

fresh tears fill your waterline. you do. you do, and everything falls back into place—the nagging feeling disperses and is replaced with warmth.

“yours,” you breathe. he coaxes your hands out and squeezes them firmly.

“welcome back, love.”

back home ⟡ the archive ⟡ join my taglist ⟡ last post

[tracingpatternswrites]

The Patchwork of Us | Chapter 10

(I'm just copy/pasting my A/N notes into this post)

My darlings! I'm feeling quite emotional now that I'm about to post the final chapter of this story.

I cannot tell you all how incredibly blown away and happy I am over the reception of this fic. It started as a silly idea and having so many people reading along and commenting has really made this into such a special journey.

In this country, we celebrate Christmas on the 24th so I'm back in my childhood home tonight, and I'm sitting on the sofa in the living room writing/editing/posting Wolfstar fanfic while my family watches telly around me and it's like I'm 16 years old again (and not like it was 16 years since I used to do this, hush).

Anyway, I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has joined me on this journey and everyone who has read and kudoed and commented so far. Without you, this wouldn't be as fun. I'm so humbled and grateful that you have fallen in love with these idiots (and Teddy) the same as I have. Thank you!

Also a special thank you to @heartofspells and @squintclover for being so encouraging, for betaing, for bouncing ideas and for always, always, always being my biggest cheerleaders when I have a new bizarre AU idea. I love you both!

I will post the actual full post for this fic tomorrow, but you can read it from the beginning here.

Snippet below the cut.

“Why can’t I come?” Teddy asked, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout as he kicked his legs against the side of the tub.

He was perched on the edge of it, watching as Sirius was getting himself ready. Sirius had pulled his hair up into a ponytail, studying his face in the mirror. He was pondering whether or not he should add some eyeliner or if that would be too much. He would have to leave in a few minutes if he didn’t want to be late. His heart was fluttering happily in his chest as he thought about the evening. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date, and he felt quite out of practice. He used to be pretty good at them, but as with everything it seemed to become more and more daunting the longer he put it off. The last one he’d been to had been well before Teddy had come into his life.

He’d hooked up with some guys since then, of course. It had usually happened when his friends (with James at the forefront, cheered on by Dora) had dragged him to a club. It had never turned into anything more than a casual hook-up though, and Sirius knew that was mostly his own fault. He hadn’t felt ready for a relationship, everything with Dora and Teddy had just felt too complicated.

This was different though. Remus was different, and Sirius felt comfortable admitting that to himself now. Remus was already a part of his life, of Teddy’s life. He was someone who was already there and would be there, regardless of what Sirius thought about it. That was a thought that both thrilled and terrified him.

It was a gamble, of course, because so much was at stake, but it still felt like it made sense. Asking Remus out had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, he was floating high in post-orgasm, but the light in the other man’s eyes had told him immediately that it had been the right thing to do.

For a while he had thought that the fight between Remus and James would get in the way, but as Sirius had learnt a long time ago it was impossible to stay angry with James Potter for more than five minutes. Remus had tried his best, Sirius had to admit that much, but in the end nothing ever stood in the way once James Potter had set his mind on something. For the past week he had put every little bit of energy into making Remus forgive him, and by the way he had turned up to celebrate a couple of nights ago he had finally succeeded.

Remus had admitted as much, too. He had said he’d forgiven James for not telling him straight away, and that they’d had a good conversation about it. Remus hadn’t told him any details though, and neither had James, clearly set on keeping his promise to Remus not to spill any more of his secrets. It was okay, Sirius thought, because he figured Remus needed someone in his life that he could trust. Someone aside from Sirius, that was, because he had promised himself that he would be one of the people that Remus could depend on from now on. 

Sirius had asked Harry to come over and watch Teddy while he was gone, and that had seemed like a winning concept up until just now, when Teddy had suddenly changed his mind. Once he had clocked that Sirius was going to meet up with Remus, he had been nagging Sirius’ ear off about being allowed to tag along. Sirius loved Teddy, and he was happy that the boy clearly wanted to spend time with him and Remus both, but had really been looking forward to having some alone time with Remus.

“Padfoot!” Teddy’s impatient voice yanked Sirius out of his thoughts. “Why can’t I come?”

“Not this time,” said Sirius before deciding he might just as well go all in, and he carefully applied the eyeliner before smoothing it out with a finger. “You can see Remus tomorrow.”

“But I wanna see him now ,” Teddy pouted, and Sirius smiled a little as he turned around to look at the boy.

“I know, but me and Remus are going to have dinner alone tonight.”

“But why ?” Teddy demanded with a frown.

“Because,” Sirius replied, and this time he grinned as Teddy gave an unimpressed huff.

“That’s not a reason,” Teddy complained. “You always tell me that’s not a reason.”

Sirius laughed, “Well, this time me and Remus want to have some time alone, we have…adult things we need to do.”

It was the truth, Sirius thought, because he had a feeling he’d spend most of the evening picturing how Remus would look bent over various surfaces.

“What adult things?” Teddy demanded, but Sirius was saved by the knock on the door.

“That’s Harry,” Sirius said. “Go let him in, I’ll be down in a bit.”

Sirius chuckled to himself as Teddy stomped down the stairs, and when he heard the front door being yanked open he went into his bedroom to check himself in the mirror. He smoothed his shirt out, half-turning to check his arse in his jeans. He looked pretty good; he knew that he cleaned up well but it was nice to see that he hadn’t lost it even if he was out of practice.

He slipped his silver rings onto his fingers before throwing one last look at himself and then venturing downstairs. He found Harry and Teddy in the living room, and he had a horrible feeling that he blushed faintly as Harry let out a wolf whistle at the sight of him.

“You clean up good, Padfoot. Hoping to score?” he smirked, and he looked so much like James just then that Sirius very nearly flipped him off before he remembered that it was, in fact, not James but his seventeen-year-old godson and he was sitting next to an eight-year-old.

Continue on AO3.

[inklingofadream]

Ink's 2022 Fic

It’s that time of year again! …. Almost a month late, because I was doing family stuff and also my brain and body strive every moment to defeat me. It’s time for a new pinned post listing out every single fic I published in 2022, for your reading (or rereading) enjoyment. To the followers who joined me in 2022, welcome!

According to my AO3 Stats, I posted 81,996 words of fic last year. That’s a 29% increase from last year. What the hell! It was spread over 22 distinct works. 

This post lists out everything I wrote, with descriptions that are somewhere between synopsis, liner notes, and sometimes an excerpt. Most of what I wrote was for TMA, but since that’s my most popular stuff I’m listing it last/under the cut. Wordcount and relationships (romantic or platonic, healthy or not) are listed, but check the AO3 tags, warnings, and notes, as I won’t be including the content warnings here. 

Star Trek: Lower Decks

Midnight Outing- 1.9k, complete, Boimler/Mariner/Jennifer; So this was one of my mutual gift fics last Christmas, and I actually ended up watching the entire series specifically to write it because it was what Ash was super into at the time lol. When ST:LD was announced I thought it was a lame idea (mostly because I’m immensely picky about animation art styles, I’ve dismissed… a lot… of shows because I didn’t love the art and ended up watching for one reason or another and been proven wrong). It was fun to watch, though! Though in a vacuum I would NOT have watched as fast as I did, the whole series in like a day and a half.

Malevolent

it seems a tiny miracle- 12.4k, WIP, Arthur & Faroe; finally, all my Shirley Temple knowledge comes in handy! Seriously, though, I’ve been so pleased with the reaction to this fic- I’ve been secretly observing every chance I get to see my baby cousins/run kids arts and crafts/etc to use for my characterization of Faroe and Little Archive!Jon.

The Locked Tomb

Ortus the Ninth- 1.3k, complete; Honestly I was SHOCKED that no one did this concept before. I know Ortus isn’t the most exciting character, but I feel like him being in the same position as the girls but even weirder, because he REMEMBERS what it was like to have peers and now he doesn’t even have one same-age archnemesis like Gideon and Harrow do has SO much weird depth to explore. Go read this, I had to hash out the meter in the Noniad to write it and it was a PAIN

The Magnus Archives

Jon and Gerry’s Fairy Tale- 7.3k, complete, Jon & Eric Delano, Gerry & Eric; This fic is an au of nature has taught her creatures to hate, but like… probably you could read it without if you’re just real hard up for dad!Eric fics. Or bb!Jon fics. This is probably my favorite of the fics I wrote various mutuals for Christmas last year, because I love bb!Jon and I especially love when he goes through a lot and comes out being brave and adorable.

your head caught flame (kissed your scalp, caressed your brain)- 2.3k, complete; Ah, the bad ending au to the cult au…. Had to have something to balance out the birdverse good(ish) ending au! Writing Desolation stuff isn’t my forte, but it was a fun experiment.

Dishonor- 4.3k, complete; Alternate POV for sutton’s lovely Stag Story. Writing Elias getting his karmic just deserts is always delicious.

Favor for a Friend- 1k, complete, Daisy & Jon; This was probably my fastest turnaround ever from “idea I had because I was half-conscious trying to fall asleep” to completed fic ever. Hopefully I captured the chills the idea gave me when I had it, idk.

A Different Archive- 1.4k, complete; I’m really proud of this one. It was for the TMA Minor Character Exchange and the prompts I got to fill were for characters I wasn’t really into, but the epistolary idea got me really excited for it when I came up with it. I do still have a half-finished Mike Crew character study I started first floating around my drafts, though.

Your Heart into my Chest- 9k, complete, onesided Martin/Jon; My other fastest turnaround, I was so obsessed with Sutton’s vampire februwhump fic that I HAD to expound on it and give Jon a little rescue. My favorite bit of lore that hasn’t really been picked up much, either in comments or sutton’s later additions, is that I was careful to imply that Martin’s father and the vampire who sires him are the same person. I never decided whether he was a vampire when he met Martin’s mother, how consensual their relationship started out… but if he was a vampire when Martin was conceived then that DOES make Martin his universe’s Renesmee. You’re welcome, I guess!

The Archivist and the Adventurer- 9 works, 24k, complete, Jon/Martin; I FINISHED MY FAE AU THIS YEAR! It took AGES, but I finally brought the whole story to the end! This is the thing I’m proudest of finishing this year.

and now i am a cereal girl- 2.5k, complete, Jon & Martin; My favorite thing about this fic is that it gave me a chance to mine my favorite song from when I was 3 for fic titles :)

10 In the Bed- fanart, complete; This is on AO3 mainly because it’s the only birdverse thing I uploaded this year :( I have 2 different drafts! Hopefully at least one comes out this year!

sitting pretty on the throne, nothing more i want (except to be alone)- 113k, WIP, Beholding/Jon; the origin point for the aforementioned birdverse! Honestly, that’s probably my favorite thing to come out of the little ol’ cult au this year- most of my favorite scenes either happened in 2021 or are yet to come! Stealing Dracula’s cowboy was fun, but as a writer it just can’t compete to the whump I got to do before or the reunions yet to come! I was really happy with the little farewell to Tim and Danny, though 

Dreams and Recovery- 3.9k, complete; Sutton’s The Mage of the Castle and the Mage of the Cavern has been bouncing around the inside of my skull since it was published. I have wayyyy more that I’d like to potentially do in that verse, but I was happy to finish this. The little bits of worldbuilding are a ball to fiddle with Also has one of my favorite sentences I wrote this year

Good things do not happen to Jonathan Sims anymore, but for a frozen, quavering moment he's suspended in the hope that Jonah will be there to smooth the worried creases from his brow and kiss him the rest of the way to wakefulness.

Little Archive-45.9k, WIP, Jon & Beholding; Baby Jon!!! And his best friends gerry and the eye. This might be the year i make myself my own little little archive jon + eye plush doll. I think about him all the time

Beneath the Stains of Time- 41k, WIP, Jon & Daisy; Just edging Jon up through every conceivable age group. In the coming year, teen!Jon is going to get to Go To School! He’s gonna have… well, not friends. He’s not very good at socializing. But peers! And escape attempts! And if we’re very lucky, we’ll reach the point in the flashback where he resigns himself to living with Daisy and the point in the present day where Martin realizes something is Very Wrong

in his hand the fire of Jove- 15k, WIP, Jon/Martin; This fic is like… 80% inspired by that scene in Peter Pan where Captain Hook traps Tinkerbell in the empty lantern. Jon is tinkerbell in this analogy. It’s been on a longer-than-planned hiatus bc of life/brain things, but it’ll be back soon!

[purplecladmerchant]

Cold and Hunger Lore Post

To all my followers who like when I go nuts. This is for you. The lore of Cold and Hunger AU. I have been writing this for a month or some months and I have been writter blocked so writing just sentences, no structure has been fun.

TW for bad times, cannibalism, MCD, and general dark fic stuff.

But before a fun note: I like romanticist literature, but I love Gothic literature. Then so I derranged very far with this idea which originally was "ey what if Zirk Sweeny Todd?" But anyway. Read Dracula. But also read dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Man. I love books. Ok. Ok. Cold and Hunger.

So, everything starts, as many gothic stories do, with the weather...

It has been cold. A thin layer of ashes is in the air. Is it Magic or is it nature? Impossible to know. But it's causing the sun to show less, the air to be colder, and the winter started sooner, and has been long. Too long, too harsh. Summers have been short. Last years’ climate has caused food supplies to be thinner as well, and the political climate as hard as ever.

Wars aren't rare on Eldermourne, petty kings and armies are fighting not just for lands now, but for scraps. Social revolution and coups are less rare, there is much danger in the air, all the time.

And if social issues weren't already complex, this long winter has been affecting the magical ones. Warmer fairies lose their strength, winter fairies burst with energy. And it is bad for both sides, too much power affects the brain, and many faes have been driven mad by their own ice, as the spring fairies barely can manifest magic enough to stay alive.

Is Heredisia at fault? Is the Reaper? Is this Trickster doing?

Maybe. But without answers, humans test their own conclusions. As political parties decay, religious ones keep going up. Reaper cultists we already know, but also trickster cults grow strong, and with their strength, the fear of them.

The blades weaken. The prophets too.

That's where we are now.

I'm gonna lay character by character in their new line, the chronology is wonky, but don't pay attention to that. It's just very Gothic of me doing it.

Let's start (of course) with the less relevant character. Blorbo from my podcast. The one and only.

Zirk Vervain. The mortician apprentice.

Sick and feverish, Zirk usually copes with the cold smoking inside. He's dangerously thin and his face shows extreme exhaustion. Still, he's able to work, and does all he can, with the little to no resources he can get. Provides the town with the elixirs he creates, and creates as much as he can with a superior intellect. The fact that there is so little to use, makes him use it better, and he has never refused to help, even if he won't get paid.

The divergence point is important. He never meets Fia or Henry. After Nebble’s death, he's alone in his all-purpose clinic, apothecary, morgue. Loneliness reached his bones, together with the cold and the hunger. The acting coroner of Thornkirk, and since the passing of his mentor, only medical "professional" in town.

He was the one providing him. Help for free... is hard when no one provides. There is less and less to do, less and less to help himself. He regrets the fact that he's nothing but a burden that has been passed hand to hand since he left his mother. Always someone was picking his slack. And now there is no one to do it. Only a little sprite that stays with him.

But he's hungry. Desperate. And alone. Madness creeps on him, as he's unable to properly move, on his bare bones. Desperation burns.

...but he have meat. In fact, he have a lot of meat.

Humans need to consume to live. And how can he help anyone if he isn't fed? How can he create elixirs? Help. Help Thornkirk. Nebble did it. He needs to honour his memory. He's keeping his things, his home, he needs to honour his memory.

And hunched in a corner of the morgue, he convinces himself he has to survive. And that he needs to eat to survive.

Only devilish sprites floating around, interested in how far can a human mind go.

The doctor Vervain is known in Thornkirk. He looks sick and feverish, always looking erratic, paranoid and tired, but he's nothing but kind to people who ask for his help. He creates elixirs and medicines with the little to no resources they have. He has been known to mostly get out of the morgue when troubles are lurking, when cultists want a fee or criminals to establish, the small man is smart, really smart, with explosives and gizmos of his creation he scares them away. Defacto protector of the town. After helping them away, he's known to offer what he loots out of cultists and bandits to the less fortunate in town. Be money, be medicine, or be food. Usually, meat.

Fia Boginya. The hermit witch.

Thrown to the scales as a child, saved with difficulty by an elder witch. I'm still debating the long-term consequences of her meeting with the scales, but she got scars and physical pain lasting till today.

She grew up under Batilda's care, on the old train station as it was known. And like everyone else the winter hit her hard, especially when her witch left around a decade ago. She did as she had to survive, like everyone else. In her case, it was become as harsh as the weather. Hunting and skinning animals was her first priority. Keeping the fire going the second. She keeps herself strong and steady, but is not free from suffering the lack of animals that roam free. But the major problem that looms over her, is the deep loneliness of her heart.

Without enough time with Batilda, and without anyone entering the forest, she has become an hermit. It's rare for people to seek anything in the woods, and hunters who dare go far enough, find themselves in front of a wall of a woman with menacing looks, glowing runes on her arms, scars on her face, and blood on her weapons.

She's a sight people rather avoid.

She looks like a menace, and she accepts it. Those who look for magic favours don't have exactly a better meet than the hunters. Not because she's not a dear, not because she's less soft than what we know Fia to be, but because she hasn't used her voice in so long, that it's raspy, it's almost not there. She doesn't need to talk with her familiar using words, she doesn't do. Communicating has become something so hard for someone who seeks connections so desperately. She would love to invite travellers to her car, help them out of the cold, and serve them freshly hunted rabbit.

But she knows how menacing she looks. And she knows how hard it is to speak, when you haven't spoken a word in ten years.

She can just dream of silver hair, and of her witch coming back home. Wherever she is.

No one dares enter the forest of the witch. And the witch carries that on her heart like a heavy burden.

Ill Luck Henry.

Henry's wife left him for a much better stablished candidate. And since then, any comfort was left behind. His main method of staying warm is a good sip of whisky, but anything alcoholic would do.

Sailor, merchant, farmer. He's one to do heavy work, but the kind of work he used to do, in lives in the past and in this one, was quickly thin, and very hard to keep a job if there is nothing to do around it.

Then he became a Soldier.

He enlisted under his ex wife's new husband personal guard, and different petty king's armies. Wherever he was taken. War is much more of a rentable Career than trying to grab fishes under layers and layers of ice.

However, being a soldier means look straight up to the war. Straight in the eyes of pain. His shadow was ripped off of his body, but that wasn't an bad as seeing life after life stripped of the land in front of him. All for scraps of food. All for scraps of land. It's was not more than a bunch of dogs, stealing food from eachother's mouths.

Alcohol was more necessary during that time. Even more when he saw his son, Henry Jr, walking in the general ranks. Just a kid, still green, it was a lot. What his stepfather was thinking putting him there…

He did his best to follow Jr around and be sure he stayed alive….

Henry deserted the military. Pretty much a traitor to the cause. But he was Unable to keep being part of the misery all that nonsenses keep prolonging. There's no reason to fight wars between equally tired and famished dogs.

Life out of the service was just as hard, being a soldier is one of the only viable options to survive, together with being born in a golden crib. But he managed to do it. Enough traveling, and doing, and running away, as he always did, lives and lives in the past. And this wasn't different.

The Third mates

They meet the night Nebble dies.

Henry and Fia become a team. Then become blades.

Henry is patient and has space on his heart for Fia, learns to love her, and learns to understand her voice. She has such a hard time remembering sounds and articulation, she frequently gets frustrated, but he's patient, and helps her as much as he can. He talks for both of them when needed.

Fia is sweet, and has lots of love to give, a big heart to fit Henry and even more. She's protective of him, but they are a team. She's glad he understands her even when she has such a harsh time speaking out loud.

Sometimes, they feel something is missing, but that's not important. That's something everyone feels during the long winter.

Henry might be the healthier of the bunch, he have had frequent meals for a while, and a warm bed to sleep at night as well as a formal and heavy training. Fia is in shape, but her habits are all over the place, so the care she takes of herself is weird and not fully right, but she easily follows pacing with Henry despite it.

Most of their stories are the same as canon. Except, enemies are more vicious, cruelty is stronger. But so is kindness, because as jaded as they are, the love they have to give is immense, and they aren't the only who are like that.

There are two instances that I think are important to remark before moving:

Batilda's wereabouts.

As mention, winter fairies are falling under their own weight. Owlen is stronger than he can control. His need to protect and preserve has become pathological, out of proportions. His understanding of humanity limited, far than ever from them. Batilda wasn't on stasis, she died frozen.

Grief becomes a shadow that will follow Fia forever, she find her voice as she cries in yells. But again, she have Henry to walk her through it, as someone who already loss a lot.

And

The Doctor Vervain

They meet Stella as she works on her machines. She's a charming but quirky woman, Jack of all trades. She was pointed when they needed an alchemist, and when they meet her, get immediately charmed.

There were hints of her involvement with criminal activity, but before knowing her, they didn't even got to know it. They just help her escape when the city turned against her. She sweet talked them, "she didn't knew better". They didn't had any way to know the rest…

The las point of differ is

Cerenysus.

The fight against Heredisia and Cerenysus happens almost in the same space, since the Hexbloods find them before endoterra.

But cerenysus is still their fight. Saving her is their mission.

There is no allcure.

There is no artificer who can ease the job of pulling the crown.

Fia cries. They have to kill her. There is not option. But Henry says no. And says goodbye.

Ill Luck Henry, once again fails his mission to stay with Olliana. Because he sacrifices himself for her. He dies saving her. But left her, and Fia, with a deep regret on their hearts. Together to continue a life full of grief.

They join the hexbloods on future missions and adventures. They have as much love to give as them. They still love each other, of course, and Fia knows it's not Erina's fault. But the grief of losing so many loved ones haunts her. And Erina's guilty for not being able to help, will always haunt her too.

It doesn't help, that the only person who learned to understand Fia's voice is gone. And it's frustrating that erina doesn't do. Not like she doesn't try, she eventually does, but it's really frustrating as she learns to not be able to tell her all she feels.

Vukbar still takes the place as soul librarian, still joins Fia in an Astral persona. Nothing bad happens to familiars.

The Doctor Vervain, the other one.

Now for an adventure that doesn't parallel anything from the Canon. And as I mentioned before, I am not following any chronology. Just vibing

As they were traveling, their steps traced back close to Thornkirk and they found the mauled corpse of Stella Vervain. It quickly become a mystery they gotta solve. She was defigured to the point her body was irreconcilable, and only figured it was Stella in bases of her brand, and magic to identify her.

They then enter the town, a town any of them really interacted with before, to find there is yet another alchemist and artificer, who also, is the spitting image of Stella Vervain. His laboratory is full of sprites and homunculus doing all kind of little labours, looking like little toys. He seem hospitable and gentle. He offers them in when they ask, and shows his playful inventions. He introduces himself as Zirk Bonkginya. And in town he's mention as some sort of protector, but with a different last name than the one he gave… people do call him Vervain.

Henry can't wipe off some bad feelings about it, something not being right, and something stalking them whenever they aren't there. Something watches them from the shadows

They eventually confront him, asking if he knows Stella. To which he, finally admits she's his mother. And that he's avoiding talking about her. When asked if he knew about her death, he only mentions having his suspicions. But nothing else.

To which Henry gut feelings just increase. Something is off, very off. not even the light mention of abuse from her makes him believe that his reaction is the one of a son finding out his mother died. Something is really off with that neurotic doctor.

So he stealths into his lab.

Just to find the open corpse of Quick Blast cass Callowey. And fridges of human meat. And corpses biten. Before he can turn around, he's attacked by the doctor's "playful" servants who now are clearly killing machines.

He yells for Fia who is immediately attacked by the doctor, he swears he's defending himself, that they are messing on his laboratory, they are attacking- and Fia for a moment (without words) believes him, and try to reason. But soon Henry comes with the truth he find out. And Fia takes back her doubts about it.

Zirk dies under Henry's spear. His last act is catch one of the little machines they were figthing, one that looked more alive, and free the sprite living in it.

Henry didn't wanted to kill him. He looked more like a tragic figure than a vicious one. But he was weaker than he seemed, and looking through his laboratory they find evidence enough, that he indeed murdered Stella...

The other side of the story.

Quick Blast entered Thorkirk sent by Stella. A letter on her pocket and a plan on the head. She was found by the wrong person, and fell by traps and tricks of an artificer. Zirk tried to make a meal out of her, but her body was mostly mechanics. Then he ripped her apart for pieces.

But there is a thing. She was branded as Vervain Industries. Meaning his mother. Immediately the weight of the pass put him on the limit of his nerves, and the desperation creeped on his back. He tried to implant her mechanical arms on himself, feeling he needed… more gunpowder… if Stella was around…. Was she around?

The experiments weren't exactly good. He hurt himsel, deeply, and only was able to attach one of Cass arms into his body at the end. From then on, he got more neurotic and scared. Feeling his mother could appear at any moment on his city, on his laboratory, on his new life…. It wasn't a nice life, but it was his. And he tough, and tough and plan, and tough, and got more and more paranoid.

He walked farther on his expeditions. He looked harder on his guards. Maybe was the lack of food, or the lack of sleep, or his general bad health, but he started seeing her. Ghosts of her? No, he's a scientist and he knows to think logical… it was the stress showing him what he fears. Knowing that didn't helped him to not jump every time he cross in front of a mirror, and his reflection doesn't look like his for a moment.

Finally, his paranoia payed. As he walked far enough to find an abandoned camp. A robbed caravan. No Stella.

He didn't killed Stella Vervain. But her body was taken to his morgue.

There was no closure for him. He have a corpse, but couldn't tell her anything. All the things he wanted to tell her, he wanted to ask her. He wouldn't be able to say any of those. And he expend days without leaving his lab, just looking at a corpse that's slowly decomposing and soon he won't even be able to eat.

It was rage at himself, for the time he lost it just looking at it, and rage at her, for everything she did, and didn't. Rage at how her corpse wasn't answering any question. He told himself it's enough, i'll open it like any other corpse. But then he was ripping her bones apart to mangle her organs, sawing her skull to spill her brain. Years of unresolved feelings. That he would never resolve. He throw away her body. Couldn't have it around. The ghosts were too much.

But it made everything worse.

Because the ghosts now were rotten, lack of eyes and any humanity. Now the ghosts he sees have a mouth full of magotts, empty eyesockets devoid of any soul, seeing muscle under the eyelids, black ichor dripping instead of blood from wounds that appear and dissappear...

She's complete on his hallucinations. That's the worst part. He knows how he left her, that's not her. In his delirious state, her body is intact, like nothing happened. There would be comfort in seeing her like he left her…. But no, That's his guilty cornering him, Stella wont leave him alone, not even after death, not even after being mangled. At least he doesn't have to see her eyes.

Except when he looks at a mirror, and there they are, staring right back at him on his own face… He's, after all, her spitting image

….

Not too long after, but long enough for the paranoia to bring the worst of him, two persons, two blades (which for him just meant trickster cultists) knocked into his door.

They carry Vervain Industries branded objects with them. So he immediately lies. Immediately creates a new persona to be, giving the last name of one of the goons he employs… he's such Stella Vervain's son, that he's just that good to lie. But he was scared, so scared, and acted as such. Not sure what to say or tell. He didn't killed Stella but he maimed her body. He isn't exactly a murderer but he's a killer, and he's worst...

It's survival. He have to be… charming, razzle dazzle them. Everything he hated about his mother, he have to be. He lived his whole life avoiding that. He think, that he will skip town after this… just leave. Get a caravan, sell elixirs, change his name…

Well, one of his last thoughts is thanknh that didn't happened. He retained some of himself to the end. And even thought about the words of the witch, redemption, being better, maybe even being a real healer and not whatever he is now, they dddn't had to fight… except they had to fight.

Trying to protect himself… but almost choosing to loose, he run into the man's spear. His last tought, was to save Spritel, if he didn't opened their lamp, they may not be able to leave it, and he won't forgive himself for that… at least it bring comfort to his last moments that he saved someone else, and that he didn't fully become a shadow of Stella Vervain. He can only hope be judged rightfully on the Reaper's scales...

The hexbloods.

They have lived long enough to see the cruelty of winter. Also the cruelty of summer storms. The hex blood on their veins keep them alive. By an inch of their lives, old, and every time less of them.

Jibari, Corbeau and Tarragon are the last of the hexblood warriors. They feel the weight of responsability on their shoulders. Almost immortal, their blood will keep tem alive, they will see summer again. So, they need to do something for everybody else.

Jibari, the general

Jibari wishes nothing but to help his people. He'll survive, he wants them to survive too.

But Jibari only knows one thing. To fight. Head of every battle, he thinks that if they conquer enough land, if they get enough resources. He can help, he can keep the soldiers safe. He can train them, teach them, protect them. They will Bring the goods to the ones who can't fight.

He can fight if he only keeps this war on the winning side. And those who are defeated will only be absorbed into the kingdom. Right? Bring peace. Bring stability. Security and protection.

Jibari is not stupid. He sees the dogs eating dogs. He sees what Hank saw. But he knows. He believes. He saw this before. If he can. If he can win this, there is no problem they can't solve.

He wishes his siblings join him. Maybe he alone can't do this. Maybe with Tarragon and Corbeau by his side, this war can be win faster, maybe they would need less soldiers, and maybe they can save everyone. Together they are better…. But as they deny him, he have to do it alone.

Tarragon, the gardener

Tarragon have seen many winters. Tarragon will survive.

But it's not about if she survives or not. She would easily give herself, if she can help her people persist. Seeing the decay on the streets is a lot. But she started gardening, not much before. And gardening, is plants, plants can be food and food can be life.

Of course, cultives die in the cold. But, she's a dragon. She can create fire. Tarragon have been for so long, keeping a greenhouse, this sanctuary of hers. Doing nothing but breathing. Breathing hot air to melt the ice, creating the exact warm for the plants to grow.

It takes most of her, she almost don't do anything other than stay still, and keep the greenhouse warm. Almost on a stasis state, barely moves, barely talks. She keep the plants alive, she keeps the food going.

Anyone can come in, and escape the cold of the streets. Some people volunteer, and take away work from her: They can water the plants and cultivate new seeds. They can reap and take the vegetables. But they can't create the hot air. Only she can do it. So she keeps doing it.

She will survive, whe sure will survive. She only needs to help as many people as she can to also survive this.

Coebeau and Jibari sometimes visits. They bring their own worries and their worries about her. But she have mostly forgot how to talk. The only she does, is breathing. Breath warm air, to keep them alive.

She will survive.

Ps: Jo did this amazing illustration of Tarragon on her greenhouse. I woul die for her.

Corbeau, the martyr

Corveau, has seen so many winters, so many wars, he will survive the winter and wishes nothing but to help his people. And Lake. Lake eats first, then he eats her scraps.

He sees Tarragon with worry as she abandoned her sense of self. He sees jibari, worried as he walk walk with the dogs who eat dogs, following blindly orders and doing what he believes is best. Maybe one of them is right, he doesn't know. He's worried.

What he knows is that fear creates instability and unhappiness in the people and that leads to rebellions.

He walks between the rebels and does his best to pacify the usurping. Not that he doesn't think it is a fair cry, not that he is not with it. But he doesn't want more blood to be sheed.

It's inevitable. But he wishes it doesn't bring death. Or the less amount of it. He knows the inevitability of Jibari Hightower as an enemy of the rebellion. And he doesn't wish that.

But then. There's a thing. There are legends. If this winter is made by magic, he can make a case to the gods. Or to the fairies. And maybe, that's stuff of legends… but he, they, they are stuff of legends.

He asks tarragon, but she only looks at him with empty eyes. She's not moving. She needs to provide the plants and food.

He asks Jibari, but he won't budget, he's a general and have to defend his people.

So he goes alone….

The mist, the third mates, and the hexbloods

Another big difference to canon is what I wish happened, more interaction between the groups the moment their paths meet. The Third mates meet the Hexbloods in the mist, and the old warriors help them out, and are their company as they reach Endoterra, the truth, and the close things to gods on that earth, the closest thing to someone who can save them.

But to get to that point, the path is very different. And as many other things, harsher, and tragic.

Corbeau starts the quest alone. Letting Lake in the greenhouse. They will keep each other safe, he thought, and leave. His path thru groves, and giants, and learning things about their mother, Heredisia, still around, was similar, but lonely. On his quest to finish the winter, he end up down below, close to the truth, he walked with awakened horrors, with fairies. But then, alone, and outnumbered… he give a wrong step….

Tarragon is barely conscious of the passing of time. But some day Jibari come to her and talk her about leaving, about the things Corbeau told her that she doesn't think are as important as keep the food supply going. But, something awakens her from her stasis.

Corbeau hasn't been back in months.

He leaved , and he haven't come back.

Jibari is worried, scared even, of the whereabouts of their last brother. And that makes Tarragon move, move for first time in so many time, talk for first time in so long that her voice hurts and she forgotten so many words.

She knows her plants will die…. She knows people will die without her safe heaven, without the warm home to be. But, she can't let go Corbeau without trying. And Jibari doesn't feast himself on this, this is not a victory for him. Of course he does want more than anything the hexbloods to be back in action. But not like this, not with Corbeau missing and not with Tarragon having to leave almost against her will something she cares deeply. Lives will be lost, and they will be responsible.

They take their decision and their mission. Follow the tracks, and learns new truths. The path is hard, but not as hard as it was for Corbeau. They are together, and they are following his lead.

They find Corbeau, totally out of his mind. Talking to a god isn't there. Talking with the siblings that fallen before them. They find Corbeau in the mist, they don't know how long he have been there, but it has been a lot. Enough for Corbeau to not be able to come back. Yet, they are the hexbloods, the stuff of legends, and were ready to try, or loss their own minds on the process….until they find someone else on the mist.

A young pair. Who don't seem to have been too long as Corbeau, they still can recover and leave. They have to take the hardest of the choices. They need to leave Corbeau behind. They take his mask, and help the young adventurers to get away of the mist and into Endoterra.

Now they found their mission, and it may meet their interests, as they find soon enough. Get rid of a very gone winter Fairy, and continue the way towards Heredisia and Cerenysus. And maybe find a way to help the lands.

In the short time they form a party of four, Henry and Jibari exchange words of how the war look from their sides, maybe for first time Jibari hear someone about something they were trying to tell him all along… Jibari is not stupid, deep down he knew the true. That war is war, and death is death. Annexed territories aren't sharing their riches but getting poorer. Henry says it to his face, in a way that disarms him, unable to keep lying to himself. And with that, he regrets… regrets not having heard Corbeau before. Because he was so into his mind, wishing to be able to help in the only way he knew…. That he didn't hear Corbeau, and didn't leave the battle for him, and now he's gone… regrets, yes. But they have lived long enough. This is not the first thing he regrets so deeply that it hurts, not the first time he realized too late. And he already knows, the only left to do, is to keep going forward. And do better. And not shame his friend memory.

Henry open his eyes to something he already knew. He reminds Jibari of Corbeau, soft but strong, calm and wise. And losing him becomes another weight to carry.

Tarragon and Fia bond by a same affliction, except Tarragon is older, and know this will pass, she have seen a lot, and know how to pass this too, she have recovered most of her voice and comforts Fia that her voice will come. And if it doesn't, it would be fine too, she doesn't need to be like anyone expects.

The sad end, is they enter a battle as four, and leave it, as a different set of four. Tarragon a Jiari guide Fia and Irina back, through the process of Grief and to any future adventure. A new found family.

Only bittersweet endings.

Things that aren't important but Also I want you to know:

Stella and QBCC were fucking. Not dating, but the closest thing they had to a relationship with anyone. Stella didn't cried Cass' death, but for sure felt the heart drop for a moment there when she was sure Cass won't come back.

Zirk had something like that going on with Syb. He pays them to carry the corpses to the lab. Syb knows something is wrong with the doctor, but doesn't ask questions, just does the work. it's just another nail on the coffin, of a cycle that repeats, Zirk can't escape from the blood on his veins. He employs a criminal for business he's too weak to do, and they knowing how insane their employer is, doesn't pry on what they don't need to. Just bring the corpses. Just follow me arround. Maybe come with me to this fight, there are too many cultists this time.

Zirk also is double class in here, took some rouge levels to help him survive and keep his thing going. Stalking cultitst and badnits and setting traps to late loot and eat their corpses. He's an alchemist artificer and a inquisitive rouge.

About Zirk that I didn't include in his segment because. -TW Eating Disorders-.

He's anorexic, his body is really weakened by the hunger and he's on the bones. He hasn't had real food in a long time and his work takes a lot of his energy for the little to no nutrition he has. His body got used to the illness and lack of food, eating is extremely hard for him. Even if he needs to survive, even when it's not meat, he has trouble keeping it.

When he starts cannibalizing, (first weeks old John Does, then fresh and healthier bodies he brings from protecting the town), his body heavily rejects the meat and starts getting bulimic reactions to the stress. Even when he can get a... "good" meal, half of the time he loses it on the stress of knowing what he's doing, added to the already anorexic tendencies, his body really suffers it.

Endo friendos:

They can't get hungry and they can't get cold. Zombies and skeletons, they feed on magic and magic isn't lacking. They are doing their things, their revolution as if nothing happened. Help Irina on her pass for Endoterra but don't get involved with the third mates.

Tho, they are very horny and the lack of human twinks to fuck makes itself visible. So who's suffering for real huh? HUH?!

And I want to end this post with that one. Because yeah. That's it. That summarize my au. It's a lot of edgy shit but I'm still silly about it. If you are here, wow man, i'm gonna kiss you in the mouth. Thanks for reading my word vomit of my Bad AU.

Can you believe this used to be Sweeny Todd for Zirk and Sol with kinky medical horny stuff. How did I end here? Amyway I have a whole version that have Sol too, it's very different. Is porn first than everything. Amd then sadness.

[abyssruler]

amor vincit mortem

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

summary: there’s a fragility to each moment spent with you, finite and fleeting as all mortal lives are. but you always find your way back to him, even when you return missing fragments of yourself. he has loved you ever since he was naught but a mere hatchling you’d dug from the earth, and he will continue to do so through war and peace and retirement. (reincarnation au)

note: writing for one of my favorite tropes again, zhongli my beloved i will always give u happy endings, might be a bit inaccurate in some lore and timeline aspects but i tried my best to stick close, multiple character death/s (reader), depictions of blood and death

word count: 4.1k

“Hello again.”

Morax—back in the days when he was just a little dragon incapable of much thought, back when the name Morax hadn’t even been granted to him—nuzzled his little snout against your hand.

You smoothed your fingers over his soft scales, an indication of youth in dragons, and smiled as he melted at the simple affection.

There had been a softness to that moment, a memory untouched by the grimness of war, in a time when peace reigned and the three sisters ruled over the skies, not a floating celestial castle to be seen.

He remembers your voice and your touch, the way your eyes brightened when you smiled and the way the corners of your mouth quirked when telling a story. He didn’t know your name then, only that you were a local in the nearby village who once unburied a small dragon from the earth as a child and had taken care of it since.

That dragon was, of course, him.

✧

“Here for another meal, little dragon?”

You brought a small piece of meat to his snout, cooing when he took it from your fingers and delicately chewed on the meat.

He doesn’t remember what it tasted, only that it had a soft, chewy texture that made it easier to eat for his soft teeth that were still in the process of hardening as he aged.

A hand ran over the scales on his head.

“You’ll need a name, won’t you? Something to be remembered for all ages.” The sun had hit his eyes then, making him incapable of seeing what kind of expression you’d had. “I just know my little dragon will grow to be a fearsome one.”

✧

“Morax!” You laughed, running as the dragon that was now at the same height as your hips chased you across the clearing. “I told you, no more meat or else you’ll become overweight!”

It wasn’t about the meat, he remembers, it was how you always seemed to shine brightest when you were running about without a care for the world around you. He’d only wanted to keep that smile on your face.

You leaned on your knees, gasping for breath, and still, you shone as radiant as the sun to his eyes.

✧

You struggled with carting a box full of all sorts of fruit and cooked meat. He used his hardened snout to help you push the cart near the entrance of the cave he usually dwelled in.

“Thank you.” You softly patted the scales beneath his chin. “I’m not as young and spritely as I used to be.”

He huffed an indignant snort as if to disagree with you. A soft exhale left your mouth, fondness evident in the quirk of your lips.

“You understand me, don’t you? You always have, my smart little dragon.”

✧

He sat beside you, quiet and solemn as you hummed a tune beneath your breath.

“Morax,” you started, something different in the inflection of your voice. It never returned back to its normal cadence after you caught an illness that had lasted a year and nearly took your life. “I’m not long for this world—”

He shifted in protest, a snarl in his throat that you wave away with a wrinkled hand.

“Don’t be so upset,” you soothed, “It’s simply the way of life.”

You ran a hand through the underside of his chin, feeling the hardened scales that will continue to grow stronger until it can withstand the force of steel—or a meteor.

“You’ll live for a long, long time, and by the time you reach your prime, I will be nothing but a distant memory to you.”

He remembers disagreeing but never outright conveying it to you. He had thought you understood what his silence meant. If only he’d been able to speak back then, he would have spent hours upon hours telling you how much you meant to the little dragon you had dug up from the earth.

✧

You laid down for a nap beside him, still managing to look at him with those bright eyes of yours amidst a face weathered by time.

“My little Morax, you’re as big as a house now, aren’t you?” You had softly pet the side of his head as he curled around you. “Wake me up when the sun rises, okay? I want to hand feed you meat like I used to...”

He closed his eyes and let dreams sweep him away once he felt you fall into a deep sleep.

In the morning, he would awake to the sun casting light over him and the stillness by his side.

You never woke up again.

✧

He took to guarding your small village from petty thieves and the occasional mercenaries sent by neighboring villages. It’s what you would’ve wanted, he thought then. You had no family, but the elders and the children and the workers you’d made friends with were dear to you, and so, they were dear to him as well.

Word spread of a village being granted the protection of a mighty dragon. More people came asking for shelter and to settle in, he never showed protest to it.

Years passed, the village grew, and he continued to wonder what it would have been like to watch over these people with you by his side.

He remembers days spent lounging in the clearing he buried your body in, an era where peace still reigned and rest was not yet a luxury he couldn’t afford.

✧

You appeared on the second century after your passing, wide-eyed and mouth parted in awe as you stared at the large town that used to be your homely little village.

“Morax?”

He had thought it a dream then, a mirage his mind consumed. There was simply no fathomable way you were here in the flesh, alive and whole and young—so much younger than he remembered you being.

But your eyes were still the same, still as bright and resplendent as the sun. You were here. You were real.

He doesn’t know how he ever managed not to squish you beneath his weight back when he’d been young and excited with less restraint to his actions. It is a memory he remembers fondly, stored tightly within his chest, a moment of peace amidst the war looming on the horizon.

It was a comical sight, a human holding their arms out to their side yet still not managing to encompass the entirety of a dragon’s snout. He used to fit so snugly at the palm of your hand.

“Look how big you’ve grown.” You press your lips to a single scale, already as large as your head. “I have missed you, old friend.”

✧

It was a worry that niggled at the back of his head amidst questions of how you came back and why you remember him.

Morax, for all his years alive that would seem many to mortals, was still but a young dragon then. Even when he was roughly the size of five houses.

He didn’t want to see you grow old, to watch as time eroded your spirit and left nothing but a husk of what you once were. The thought of having to relive those days when you could barely stand up to meet him at the clearing outside your village made him want to curl up and burrow deep into the earth.

He didn’t want to sleep beside you only to awake to the sight of your chest still and your breaths nonexistent.

He didn’t want to watch you die again.

✧

The choice was taken out of his hands when he returned to his town—your town, just as much as it is his—and found it burning.

“There’s a nearby village that needs your help. Go, Morax, lend your hand to those who need it,” you had told him as you caressed his scales, and he had obeyed, because while the elders and the people come to him with their pleas and their wishes, he will only ever answer to you.

It had been a trick to place his attention away from your town.

He learned what anger meant that day, learned what it felt to crush a house beneath his claws and how to move the earth to his will and what it meant to take a life.

He was young and furious and mourning. It is a dark memory he doesn’t like to dwell on, full of pain and regret and the vicious sense of satisfaction that came with killing. It was the first time he had ever shed blood. It wouldn’t be the last.

As he watched the village be buried beneath the earth and the stone he’d called upon, he turned his back and made the long trek back to a home that was now nothing but ash and dust.

And as he rooted through the rubble in the vain hope of finding your body to bury, Morax learned what it meant to be an unwilling participant in a war.

✧

It was as if fate was paying back the abundance of time you’d spent with him in your first life with short moments that were always cut too soon.

In your third life, you found him sleeping on the remains of what was once your town. You had wept and embraced him as much as you could, and he, in turn, tried to convey how much he had missed you.

The two of you traveled together for a while, and that life was where you rode on his back for the first time as he soared the skies.

“They’re like your eyes,” you once said, holding onto his scales as he flew above the clouds, the light of the setting sun casting the two of you in molten gold, “Golden. It’s been my favorite color ever since I first saw you open your eyes. They always shine so bright.”

You died that same day, having encountered a vengeful deity after he set foot on the ground. He had won that fight, but he wasn’t able to protect you.

✧

It was in a battlefield that he saw you again.

He remembers how the small deity’s blood had felt upon his tongue, dripping down sharp teeth and soaking the battle happening in the ground below with blood. It had been sunny then, he remembers, when he descended from the skies in triumph and looked down the masses gazing at him with fear.

And then there was you.

Blood and dirt and other unnamable things clung to you like a second skin as you clumsily held a spear close to your chest, but you had beamed at the sight of him and yelled out his name.

“Morax!”

It was short-lived.

It had been a stray arrow, they would later plead with tears and mud streaking through their terror-filled faces. But all he cared about at that time was that one moment you dropped your spear to run to him, and the next you were falling to the ground, an arrow lodged right where your heart lay.

He left that field bloodied with corpses, your body strewn on his back as he flew to the clearing in your first life. There, he buried you beside your other incarnations.

✧

“I’d like to settle one day, once all the fighting and killing has stopped. Maybe in a house overlooking the sea. Somewhere surrounded by mountains. Just a place where there’d be lots of space for you too.”

You leaned against the bulk of his frame, burrowed in a cliffside to wait out the fight between two gods happening on the other side of the lake.

✧

“That was never there before,” you said, squinting at the castle in the sky as you laid on his back.

He rumbled his agreement.

You sighed, hearing the war going on below and wondering when it was all going to end.

“The stars don’t shine as bright as they used to.”

✧

“Are you alright?!” You yelled as you frantically helped the woman—a deity—up from the ground.

Morax’s thundering roars echoed in the air as he summoned pillars from the earth and shattered the feeble ice that the opposing god put up.

The woman stared at you with wide eyes, noticing how labored your breathing was but otherwise looking unbothered by the fight happening in front of you.

“Are you not worried…?” She asked, her voice sounding as delicate as she looked.

You turned to her with a grin you’d hoped was encouraging. “There’s nothing to fear, Morax is strong!” Then, you offered her your hand. “Here, you can hold my hand if you’re afraid.”

She accepted it, feeling the tremors in her fingers calm at the warmth emanating from your palm.

“Guizhong,” she suddenly said, looking up at you, her heart racing. “Forgive my rudeness but… my name is Guizhong.”

You smiled, as bright and lovely as Morax would have described had he been there to see it. “Allow us to lend you and your people a hand, Guizhong!”

And for the first time since the war began, she felt hope blossom in her chest.

✧

“Which life is this now?” Guizhong asked him.

“Nineteenth,” he answered, more of a growl that resembled a word. Morax, in his newly obtained form, was still not used to the ways of mortals, namely, the fact that he can now speak his thoughts out loud.

You were conversing with Cloud Retainer, something regarding a weapon that could be used to help the war. The mechanics were lost to him. For all that he could now be considered a deity, for all that the people have started calling him Rex Lapis, he was still so oblivious to the ways of the world.

Guizhong placed a hand on his shoulder, a reassuring smile on her deceptively gentle face. On that day, she promised to help him protect you.

And that life was one of the few where he got to watch you grow old.

✧

“You don’t know how to read?” Guizhong asked you, surprise coloring her face.

You sheepishly laughed, “I’ve never been taught in all the lives I’ve lived. And most of my time with Morax was spent fighting and running from the war.”

You looked down your hands, feeling the smooth, unblemished skin of them. Young and unscarred. There had been a large gash that ran across your back in your previous life, and when the night got too cold and you were left alone with your thoughts, you felt the ache of thousands upon thousands of wounds you’d collected throughout your lives.

A dainty hand covered your own. You looked up to see Guizhong watching you with a fond smile.

“Let me teach you, then.”

✧

Guizhong always invited you to sing to the glaze lilies scattered around the Assembly. She claimed your voice was like a melody that soothed the flowers to bloom.

In truth, she only wanted to hear you sing.

✧

“No, that’s not how you hold chopsticks, Morax!” You laughed, taking hold of his hand and rearranging the chopsticks haphazardly held in his fingers. “There, much better.”

His fingers remained clumsy, unused to such sensations, but you promised him that he’ll get used to it in no time.

✧

You slowly guided him through each step, gently correcting a mistake in his footwork and adjusting the spear in his hand when needed.

Morax was a fast learner.

Soon, he would develop his own way of wielding the spear, but for now, you coached him through the right techniques and laughed whenever he dropped the spear in a spin.

✧

“The moon,” he suddenly said, looking at you with wide, earnest eyes.

“Yes, what about it?”

He seemed to struggle with finding the right words to convey what he wanted to say. You patiently sat and waited for him to gather himself.

“It’s beautiful tonight.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Isn’t it?”

You tilted your head to the sky, a nostalgic smile on your lips, lost in memories of days spent lazing about in that old clearing and staring at the starry sky. “It is.”

His hand felt warm around yours.

✧

“I don’t want to die anymore.”

He held you as your blood seeped from your clothes and painted the grass a dark shade of red. It was a slow process, bleeding out, to wait for your blood to drain until your heart stopped beating and your eyes lost the light in them.

“Morax.”

You were crying, clutching your side where a god had pierced their blade clean through. You were dying so slowly, yet there was no time to get a healer.

“Please.”

Your eyes begged for an end to this pain.

His tears fell and mixed with your blood.

On your twenty-ninth life, he cradled your head to his chest and wept as he gave you a quick, painless death.

✧

When he saw you again, he held you until the sun disappeared and his arms felt numb before reluctantly pulling away.

You held his face between the palm of your hands and kissed his forehead, your eyes red and smile brittle at the edges.

“I’ve missed you,” was all you said before you leaned close.

Your lips felt impossibly soft against his.

✧

“Morax,” you whispered against his skin, on your thirty-first life when he finally found the courage to show you what being loved by him meant. “I love you.”

It was the first time you spoke those words to him.

It wouldn’t be the last.

He kept you awake all night, ignoring the war happening around him and pretending, just for a moment, that the world only consisted of you and him.

✧

During your forty-second life, an anomaly happened.

He and the rest of the adepti were unable to gauge how it happened. Guizhong, for all her smarts, was not able to discern the reason for it either.

And then there was no time to ponder upon it anymore, because Osial attacks the Guili Assembly, and not only does he lose you, he also loses a friend.

Her last words to him consisted of a riddle and a memento in the form of a lock. “I never stopped searching for a reason. I think… this may be it.”

And in her eyes, he saw a confession — she had loved you too.

Thousands of years later and he is still no closer to opening it, and thus, no closer to figuring out what caused the loss of your memories.

✧

On some lives, you remember, eyes lighting up with recognition as you abandoned everything you’d been doing to run into his arms.

“Morax,” you would whisper as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.

On some lives, you would pass by him with blank eyes, the same lilt to your voice but without the fondness that came with it.

“Hello again,” he’d say.

You would smile awkwardly. “Hello?”

And he would mourn you all over again.

✧

“He’s suffered enough, hasn’t he?”

Your words were enough to still Morax’s spear.

You knelt in front of the young-looking deity, offering your palm to him. “We will not shackle you, and neither will we force you to serve.”

His eyes were wary, yet so incredibly full of disbelief and hidden hope.

You gave him a smile you hoped was as gentle as it seemed.

Rough, battle-hardened hands clasped onto yours like a salvation.

“Please,” he whispered, something so undeniably broken in his tone as looked up at you the same way one might look up at the stars.

Later on, Morax would name that young deity Xiao.

✧

There were tales and poems written about you. Rex Lapis and his undying lover.

It was widely romanticized and highly inaccurate. For one, he didn’t meet you in your first life as a large and intimidating dragon. He was naught but a hatchling you used to feed fruits and meat with a childish laugh. The two of you had grown up together, but where you had grown old, he remained young, a dragon who hadn’t even reached a fourth of his lifespan.

You always laughed as you read to him some of the more outlandish ones, in those lives where you remembered enough to love him as deeply as you used to.

“‘And they fornicated upon the moonlit night, a dragon and a mortal—’ I’m sorry, I can’t take this seriously.” You burst into a fit of giggles, leaning against him on your shared bed as the book you’d been holding fell to the side, forgotten.

“Shall I have a word with the authors of such books?”

“No, no!” You were quick to refuse, placing both palms on his cheeks and grinning. “They’re amusing to read. Perhaps I should commission a play, that would be so entertaining…”

He gazed at you fondly, cherishing each precious, limited time the two of you have.

✧

When he ascended the throne of Celestia, you were the first person to greet him upon returning to Liyue.

There was a nervous edge to your smile, but still, it came as naturally as breathing to you. You often questioned it, how everything just seemed to come easily for you.

“I think I know you,” you once told him a week after you met in this life, “I just can’t remember where.”

And you would always come across the numerous retellings of your lives, hands shaking and so full of regret and grief for a life you could never quite recall.

You never failed to apologize to him after.

I’m sorry I forgot.

I’m sorry I can’t remember.

I’m sorry I don’t love you.

✧

It became increasingly frequent with each century that passed. Only one incarnation of you every six lives remembered your past.

He made you love him in each one. Even if he had to start from the bottom, even when you looked at him without a spark of familiarity, even when it hurt—he never failed to capture your heart again and again.

✧

The Cataclysm happened in a lifetime where you remembered.

Morax, to this day, wishes it hadn’t been the case. Perhaps then, you wouldn’t have insisted on fighting alongside him.

Perhaps then, you wouldn’t have died so early.

Your body was left beneath the rubble and ruins of Khaenri’ah’s Royal Palace. The only thing that stopped him from upturning it to search for you was the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles.

✧

In the twentieth year after the destruction of Khaenri’ah, he made a contract with a golden haired traveler who carried the aura of the stars.

Five years after the contract was signed, your body was returned to Liyue in a casket covered with Inteyvat flowers.

✧

He remembers waiting, and waiting, and waiting a little more until he looked up and realized that four hundred years had passed without you.

He searched each nation, visiting village upon village, hoping to hear news of you or a past life of yours having lived there, but there was nothing.

It was as if you had simply ceased to exist.

He refused to believe it.

✧

Mountain Shaper advised him to rest.

It was strange to walk the streets of Liyue again after a hundred years of absence. He never failed to appear during the Rite of Descension, but taking on his draconic form and parading as a mortal man were two different things. And the latter, he found in all the years he’d been ruling Liyue, was much more preferable than the former.

Conversations flowed around him, and he wondered what you would have been doing had you been here with him.

He stared into the Harbor, smiling as he remembered your quiet musings during the early days of the Archon War.

I’d like to settle one day, once all the fighting and killing has stopped. Maybe in a house overlooking the sea. Somewhere surrounded by mountains. Just a place where there’d be lots of space for you too.

Settle.

It was a wishful thought, but…

He turned on his heel, mind made up.

If he couldn’t look for you, then he would have to wait for you to come to him. In the meantime, he would arrange the finest house for you to live in peace after five hundred years of being apart and a lifetime of war and bloodshed.

✧

Morax—Zhongli sits at a table at Third-Round Knockout, leisurely sipping tea as he listens to the story teller regale the tragic tale of your second life. A little inaccurate, on a few accounts, but for the most part, it was as he remembers it.

The tea tastes exceptionally sweet today. A good omen, perhaps.

He feels the vibrations from the ground, telling of a person approaching him from behind. He lets whoever it is get close, unable to detect any malicious intent.

“That’s completely false. I, for one, never ‘wept in delight as I was reunited with my dragon lover’.”

He nearly drops his tea in shock.

He turns his head to the right, his heart in his throat as he hopes and begs that his ears did not deceive him. He sucks in a breath—

And meets the loveliest pair of eyes gazing down at him with mirth.

You smile.

“Hello again.”

[piichivii]

[Image ID: A sketch on a white background with a warm reddish overlay, depicting a feminine and muscular Wizard101 OC with green hair in a low ponytail, tan skin, and pointed ears. She stands haughtily with a white cane in her right hand and her left hand on her hip. A recolored Enchanted Armament pet in red, white, and gold, floats by her shoulders. Her outfit is a red, white and gold techwear inspired outfit containing red and gold strips patterned with symbols for the School of Balance. She wears red and gold sunglasses and gold earrings. The sketch is signed "PIICHỊVY 2022". /.End ID]

hello wizzy friends, and thank u all for the warm welcome 🥺 u guys r so sweet n i hope the year has been treating yall well

i’ll b answering some comments on my last piece w/ some compositional notes + wip shot below the cut!

im obsessed with the title for this piece like. i dont know ur oc or whatever personal story/AU they've got but even so this is. powerful they're a balance wizard. they're the blind angel of Judgement. they've got Power Nova behind em: the birth of a new star they've got a smile on their face and their stance isn't rigid straight. they're swayed the dark soul is heavier than the light feather of truth are the 5 blades a reference to tarot? or like. blades in wizzy that buff your spells?

also a balance wizard w a god comex is so antithetical i love it

so gonna b real here “god_complex” came from me saving the initial sketch and thinking “man homegirl’s got some bde here” LOL. i’m not entirely sure if she does have a god complex or not, but i love your interpretation of the piece! frankly, i try not to get attached to the little details of my characters since i tend to be more concerned about crafting a larger and thematically cohesive narrative, so their characterization is really flexible. i actually find this concept of an antithetical sorcerer w/ a god complex REALLY saucy, so this has all been a happy coincidence of me just wanted to draw a fun cool scene. when i first imagined this piece, i’m fairly certain it was while my homies n i were pressing the delete button on a random boss LOL so really, it was a bit of my own hubris as a “god complex” than my oc’s! i haven’t gone past polaris yet so who knows! maybe she WILL go down her corruption arc :O

the only concrete thing here is that she’s meant to be a successor to ma’at (judgement), hence the whole judgement imagery. it makes me giddy inside as an illustrator to see that these compositional elements communicated that sufficiently 😊

(like a fool i deleted my sketches so this is the oldest remaining screenshot of my sketch orz)

here r some compositional notes about the piece:

mistress of judgement—blindfold, wings, scales of time (include heart+maat feather) ((i also wanted to make the staff ridiculously huge to be cool; i included a counterweight at the other end but it got covered up by the sandstorm)), halo for the Cool Factor, khopesh ((this was later changed to the sword of kings, then later to dragonblade))

bladestorm encircling enveloped by wings ((or more accurately mechanics-wise, balanceblade+enchant balanceblade+bladestorm+enchant bladestorm+dragonblade; i like to imagine that in a solo context the 4 bladestorms would just stack up to b used later LOL initially i wanted to do the crossed blades, but it ended up being compositionally messy so i scrapped that. while sketching i DID consider tarot imagery though 5 and 4 didn't really fit akdhkfkf anymore than 4 blades encircling and it would've been messy, and less and it would've been lacking. also, initially the blades were pointed down, but i decided against it to better represent them as charms bc i couldn't stop thinking of the sword of damocles which would be more of a threat LOL))

power nova, framed by raised wings ((it's been my aoe of choice + i like the implication that balance as an "element" is part sand part (sun)light; i also wanted to somewhat evoke ra imagery too by having power nova as the sun w/ its rays of light))

swirling sandstorm below ((i was just really taken by the sandstorm animation update bc it's so sparkly and pretty—girl got such a glow up. a bit of a happy accident but my friend interpreted it as chastisement n i was like yea that works too LOL. another happy accident was the red cast ending up evoking balance of power c: although power play was such a fun meme play))

modified alhazzy fit w/ balance pattern trim + cowl + no shoes + inspo from kim kassas’s walk like an egyptian ((hoo boy that collection has so many hot fits. not historically accurate but idgf it fucks. i was having trouble thinking of a suitable design since none of the in-game robes really suited the image i had in mind but this collection was The One. anyways i absolutely Love the balance pattern trim and i'm Very Offended girls don't get to use maroon to match w/ it. i made a csp brush for this bc no way in hell was i gonna handdraw all those LOL. if u want the brush n some other assets i made or ripped from kingsisle u should check the source link ;))) also you can't see the toes in the final render but in my sketches i ditched the ugly boots it's just a lil soleless footwrap now. ALSO i’m distraught that it slipped my mind to give her these earrings that mimicked the pans of a balance scale 😭))

(from the cities in dust fw 13 lookbook)

buff lady of the blades ((another happy accident was the final product exuding "muscular women think they're gods/know your place" energy. i'll draw that later after i finish some of the stuff i've been planning, if i remember about it LOL))

the "u know im cool" grin bc we abt to delete some mobs 😎 ((fun fact: my friend wants her to aoe him))

nyways thank u again wizzy friends n i wish u all the loveliest day and if someone is ruining it for u, we accept offerings to feed ammit she’s gettin hungy

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?���

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

[lorata]

Okay this might be a little too spicy to ask, so feel free to ignore, but do you have any THG fanfic/fandom characterization/headcanon pet peeves? Aside from I assume one-note Careers. Mine is the way people erase the mentorship bond! I see so much Finnick stuff especially where he tells the writer’s chosen lover for him that they’re the “only one who sees the real him,” and I’m always like, hello, MAGS???

oh hard agree, plus I'm not a super fan of that even without the mentor thing. like don't get me wrong I love a good, codependent fictional relationship that would be absolutely destructive in real life (delicious) but everyone should have more than one person. there can be MULTIPLE codependent relationships! codependent fractal! a weird group of people with a weird shared experience that nobody else can hope to understand. FEED ME THAT LIKE SKITTLES.

(don't come for me about my fictional preferences. leave me and the fellowship ALONE)

on a similar note I also used to get tired of how everyone made all the mentors sexually and/or romantically involved with their victors (like Beetee/Wiress, Brutus/Enobaria or Finnick/Annie where he's her mentor, whoever.) like no shade to people who read or write it BUT I feel like there was a weird period where no one could envision ANY close relationship without writing it into a pairing. Maybe it's my aroace coming to the surface but I got a bit grumpy. So I wrote an endless permutation of complicated, intense relationships with absolutely no sex or romance aspect. what are ya gonna do about it!

one of my less controversial peeves is "peeta starts out dating glimmer who is vapid and promiscuous and cheats on him so he can get together with katniss who is perfect" like an early taylor swift song. it was E V E R Y W H E R E for a while. if there was a modern AU, Peeta was dating Mean Bitch Glimmer and she'd get her comeuppance around the end of Act I. why. please. one of Katniss' actual, literal, canon character arcs is realizing Glimmer was a person who was forced to act the way she was (her interview dress chosen by her adult stylist was SEE-THROUGH) and she died, alone, for an audience who immediately forgot she existed. and you're gonna "not like other girls" her for your wish-fulfillment barista AU. cool.

on the other end of the scale -- and this is a very personal trigger, so I don't blame anyone for liking it -- the District 5 repro girls / thin girls fanon that was rampant in 2012-2014 fanfic. a bunch of people incorporated it into their stuff but it is such a violent, visceral nope for me that if a story uses it I close the tab immediately.

characterization-wise, there is a fic i still see floating around where rue makes me scream. listen. rue is the oldest of 6 kids AND her father died when she was even younger than katniss. she has been working full time to support her family in a job where you are literally murdered for mistakes since she was nine years old. rue is calculating and intelligent, she tells katniss that peeta is "okay" when she knows he's bleeding to death because if katniss realizes he's dying she'll leave. PLEASE. respect the hustle, the girl is not naive.

ok you did say spicy so i will give you ONE (1) hot take. it drives me bananas when fanfic uses Cato Hadley and Clove Kentwell. they first appeared on wattpad in 2010, when fandom tossed a few names around for a while and hadley and kentwell were the ones that stuck. but IT'S NOT THEIR REAL LAST NAMES STOP ADDING THEM TO THE WIKIS AND TELLING PEOPLE IT'S CANON AAAAAAAAA.

there's my one petty hunger games post, lol. i am pretty live and let live, generally if I don't like something I scroll past or filter it out. the annoyance happens when it's stuff like, trying to read fic about Careers and the first page of results is just them background tagged in an ensemble fic about the main characters -- but that's a minor character in juggernaut fandom problem, that's EVERYWHERE. i do the "search within results summary: name" trick to solve that

[scribblingfangirl]

OPPOSITES ATTRACT | THE WITCHER - JASKIER

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: I'm back, just like The Witcher with its second season! Which was amazing in my opinion, but I also never read the books or played the games, so I went into it without any expectations or wishes. This one-shot has been in my drafts since season 1 came out, so I apologize if some of this might be off. I have to get into the swing of writing and The Witcher again.

word count: ~ 1.6k

prompt: modern!AU, university!AU

warnings:  none really

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You weren't exactly sure how it had started. Apparently, it was someone from a room at the end of the hall that thought your year needed to celebrate its last night at the Oxenfurt Academy.

At first, it was just someone strumming on a guitar, accompanied by some laughter and loud talking. Then, however, the need to celebrate had spread. Now nearly all of the dorm doors were wide open, allowing the students and some teachers to mingle around.

Whoever was playing the guitar at the beginning had soon been replaced by none other than Jaskier himself and some scattered loudspeakers. His clear and strong voice floated above the crowd, reaching every ear on the floor and, possibly, some above and below as well. He danced more or less elegantly through the crowd, avoiding any possible collision and graciously held onto his instrument, while his nimble finger never played the same song twice.

Even though your room was one of the only ones still cut off from the outside world, Jaskier's voice was strong enough to reach you through the closed door. You didn't want to join the festivities just yet, not ready to say goodbye to a big part of your life. You smiled at all the memories you had made and all the experiences you'd gone through while you packed your last belongings into your suitcase. Tomorrow the only thing to do was to say goodbye, to the place, to him.

People didn't really know you. You were the quiet one, famous for arriving late and being Jaskiers best friend. "Opposites attract," people had said and left it at that, not trying to get to know you better. Still, you wouldn't trade your years at the academy for anything.

As you were halfway done getting ready, struggling to put on your dress as your arms were too short to reach the zipper, the door opened, and your roommate walked in.

"Hey!" she mustered you giggling, "Need some help?". Holding a beer bottle in her hand, she swayed a little and had to stabilise herself by leaning against the closet.

You just nodded and turned your back to her. Another opposites attract. You were the party pooper while she was the first one swinging her legs and arms to the tune of whatever music was playing, no matter how bad it sounded. After putting down the bottle, she approached you slowly, taking in the dress.

"So," she said as she pulled up the zipper, winking at you, "trying to impress somebody special?" Turning you around to face her, she patted down some wrinkles and pulled the dress straight in some places. "You know, he'll love looking at you. I mean, he already does. But until now, he only ever saw you in… less showing and elegant clothes." She looked at you closely. "Actually… I think you might need me as a bodyguard. There are some boys out there that won't know when to stop, not with you looking like this."

"Is it too much? I can change!"

"Oh no, honey, you won't. We've come too far to turn back now. Grab the opportunity! It's your last night together! You'll go back home to Cidaris, and he'll stay here as a professor. Though, only Melitele knows for how long. That boy's not made to teach other people, and he still got a lot to learn himself."

Unwillingly you rolled your eyes at her words but laughed and followed her out of your room into the sweaty mess of people in the corridor. "I’m sure you’ll be too preoccupied looking for your own victim of the night.”

The music wasn’t precisely louder now that you stepped out of your room, but you could almost feel the vibrations in your bones. You were surprised that none of the other blocks had come to complain yet, but you guessed they had their own parties going on.

You squeezed yourself through the mass of people into Jaskiers room. Few were here, and it was almost as empty as yours, but you could see his roommate sitting on his bed with a girl that was in some of your classes. Giving him a slight wave, you turned to face their cupboard. You weren’t a fan of any alcohol, and your stomach was begging for food.

You knew that it wasn’t nice to go through the stuff of others without their permission, but some time ago, Jaskiers roommate had realised that you were spending a lot of time in their room listening to Jaskier playing the songs he had to prepare for class. This had brought up the whole conversation about opposites attract, by the way, as he thought you were dating but was quickly shut up by Jaskier. Remembering that still hurt, as a tiny speckle of hope had shattered that day.

Anyway, as his roommate, and anybody else for that matter, knew that Jaskier didn’t really care about human needs like food and water (“the only thing one needs is excellent music”), he made the rule that there would always be food for you in the cupboard. Of course, he organised it since Jaskier couldn’t even walk a few steps without tripping over thin air. You had already opened the cupboard door as a hand touched your shoulder and began to close it in front of you.

“As much as I enjoy looking at this beautiful back view, I can’t let a stranger go through our stuff.”

Before the cupboard door closed entirely, you managed to grab something tightly wrapped, labelled ‘Y/N’.

“Oh no! Gods, that’s for…”

“Me.” You turned around and faced a shocked looking Jaskier.

“Y… Y/N?”

“Really, Julian? After walking in on me naked on countless occasions, you can’t even recognise me by looking at my back?”

His already flushed cheeks turned even redder. “W… well, almost naked. I never actually got a peek of anything, I swear! Tonight, however…” You hadn’t realised how near you were to each other, him almost trapping you within his arms, pinning you between his chest and the cupboard. “Y/N, you look beautiful tonight.” He stopped, his expression changing from serious to a more admiring look and the tenseness in his arms weakening a bit. “You always do if I’m being honest.”

At those words, a surge of energy, raw and from deep within, filled your body, and you panicked. Wiggling yourself, almost elegantly, out of his arms, you threw him a last look and walked out the door. The package from the cupboard is still clutched tightly in your hands. Then you fled into another room as fast as the mass of students standing in the corridor allowed you to do so. What were you thinking?! He had just told you that you looked beautiful, and you went and destroyed the moment like that?

Not watching your surroundings, you ran straight into someone. Looking up, you saw Valdo Marx, and your jaw clenched for all the mean things and horrible rumours he had spread about Jaskier. What the hell is he doing here.

“Hey! Can’t you… oh. Fancy seeing you here, beautiful. Where’s your shabby appendage?”

"Sorry, I didn’t see you,” you mumbled, not wanting to further interact with him. “I’m already gone."

"Wait! Wait!” He grabbed your free hand. “Slow down, beautiful. Since we already met and are, as I’ve heard, going back to the same place tomorrow, why don’t we dance together? Get to know each other better."

"No, thank you."

"Come on! It will be fun! Don’t you like to slow dance?"

"No, not with you."

"What?!” His grip around your hand got stronger, pulling you even closer to him. “What did you just say?"

"She said she doesn’t want to dance with you!” A strong force pushed you and Valdo apart. Then you felt yourself being pulled into a warm embrace, and someone led you along the corridor to the stairs down to a floor with fewer people and more quietness.

Jaskier then sat in front of you on the floor. “I’m sorry. That mother- He probably came with the wave of uninvited people that suddenly appeared. I still thank Melitele every day that he didn’t go here as well.”

You just shrugged your shoulders, feeling suddenly very sheepish and stupid. And then, when you looked at your hand which was still holding on tightly to the package, you realised that it couldn’t contain food. Great, now you had accidentally stolen something from Jaskier or his roommate.

You sighed and looked up, ready to apologise for your strange behaviour, but you found Jaskier staring at you. “Is there something wrong with my face Jask?"

"What? Oh… no. Of course not. Why would you think that? Because when I said you looked beautiful, it wasn’t just because of your dress. I just can’t stop thinking about how you really need to stop calling me Jask. It’s tearing my heart apart hearing you say it… like that."

Your heart fell. "Like what? What should I call you then?"

He softly took the package out of your hand and began to unfold the paper. "I was planning on doing this differently tomorrow, but our whole friendship’s been a mess from the beginning. Why not embrace it?” He pulled out a key. “How about you call me your roommate, to begin with? After that, I’ve got some more… special names in mind. Stay with me here in Oxenfurt, don’t go back to Cidaris. Please.”

“Why?” It was the only thing you managed to choke out.

“Out of entirely selfish reasons if I am to keep up the ‘being honest’ act tonight. But most importantly, because opposites do attract. At least, I hope the feeling is mutual.”

Thankfully you didn’t need to say that they were, as your voice had completely abandoned you after his confession. You could also simply show him.

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[chocominnie]

One Last Time — 05

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00 01 02

⇢ Word Count : 3k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

The scent of vanilla with a hint of cinnamon is what wakes you up from your sleep. Hair and body tangled in-between the blankets, which lets you know you you had tossed and turned once again. The frizzball on your head is definitely going to be a challenge to work with. Stretching your limbs, you let out a small yawn only for your hands to drop back down and feel nothing but cold emptiness.

Was it a dream? Dream? You didn’t even have one of your night terrors for the first time in a year. The dream to you seemed rather pleasent. Jimin tangled up in your arms as he holds you tight while you breathe into his bare chest. The warmness is something you had longed for once again and it all felt surreal.

‘‘ You awake yet?’‘

The voice startles you, making you drop your phone onto the comforter and turn your head towards the bedroom door where it came from. His blonde hair and small smile peep through the door, hoping to atleast get a better reaction out of you. 

So it is real.

“ You’re really here? Did I bump my head too hard to where im imagining things?” You pull the covers close to you for security. Just as in your dream, there he is barechest and all.

He lets out a squeaky laugh followed by a smile as he comes towards your bed, tapping them to give you a signal to open. You raise an eyebrow but oblige, spreading them a bit only for him to sit inbetween them. It feels as if you’re heart might explode with the sudden flirtacious moves from him. Something you have been wanting but still aren’t used to.

‘‘ You slept so good that you don’t remember last night?”

You look at him eyes wide and then down to your body, “ Please tell me we didn’t-’’

‘‘ As much as I would of love to, No.’‘

A shot of relief flows through you but sadness soon comes over. He isn’t yours to be thinking these sorts of things. He isn’t yours in general. It wouldn’t be right for him to say things like that to you, while still entangled with another female.

‘‘ Why so sad?” His hands comes to your face to caress your cheeks. You shake your head softly then grab his hand to slowly lower it back down.

Jimin sighs, “ Baby just tell me whats wrong.’’

That word. That word you know always messes things up with your thoughts. Your emotions, hell everything in your body too.

You slowly make your way off of the bed, not interested in the conversation anymore. It’s not like you don’t want to continue, you do, but the guilt of everything that comes with it is enough to stir you away.

‘‘ Jimin don’t use that word. You technically still belong to Isabel.”

‘‘ Is she here at this very moment?” He cocks his head to the side with a smirk. You roll your eyes in response to his cockiness.

‘‘ No. That doesn’t change the fa-”

‘‘ Alright then. Now are you going to tell me what’s really on your mind or do I have to force it out?” He raises his hands and scrunches them with grabby motions. You don’t fall for it though. 

You make your way to the doorway, “ That’s all Jimin. I promise. Just call me by  my real name okay?’’

But that’s not what you want. What you want you know you can’t have. It’s not because you can’t have it because you want too. It’s just that it would make you feel like a terrible, horrible person. The look on his face when you say those words almost make you give in. Those puppy eyes caught yours and for a split second you almost consider it but don’t. It’s hard for you, it really is. Having something dangling in your face but you’re too concious to have it.

He’s still not yours. 

With the morning being spent eating a good breakfast Jimin made your favorite pancakes. You watched him carefully, the way his hair bobbed up and down a bit while his right arm whisked the batter quickly. He seemed so natural and comfortable as if he was used to doing this for you. With your elbows on the island counter and head in your hands while you’re seated, you can’t help yourself to stare at the back of him and let the memories float in your mind.

Memories that never fade from you. It’s cute of him to steal glances of you here and there when pouring the batter into the pan. The small winks he gives you makes your heart flutter and the blood rush to your cheeks. It feels rather good to you to have his presence here. Despite the guilty feeling in the pit of your stomach.

 The rest of the day you two decide to lounge around. Endless movies and tv shows throughout the day as you’re cuddled up next to him with a pink colored blanket for the two of you to share. Clara seems to enjoy her time with him too since she won’t let him put her down. She meows loudly with every movement of him. Such a drama queen.

‘‘ Jimin it’s getting late..” You pause, looking up at him. He gives you a small frown when he sits up in hopes you won’t finish your sentence. “ She might begin to worry you’re not home yet.”

Jimin ignores your comment only to latch onto your body a little more rougher, arms not wanting to let go. You giggle before running your fingers through his hair as his head lays softly onto your chest. You wan’t him to leave mentally, but your body wants to hold on to him for way much longer.

‘‘ Your heartbeat is soothing to me.”

It always has been. Anytime he just wanted to talk when you were in a relationship, he would lay you down and then lay himself on you with his ear pressed against your chest. Some days he would have been happy to talk, others, he just wanted to lay there to fall asleep.

‘‘ Seriously Jimin. You should leave.” 

He shakes his head, ‘’ Shhh. Jungkook is coming soon and I would love to sit here and have you to myself.’’

You raise an eyebrow is confusion, “ Why is he coming here?’’

‘‘ I kind of sort of lost my keys to my home. Isabel came yesterday to give the copy’s she went and made when we were at Ryan’s office.  I left the house key with Jungkook while going after you instead of putting it on my keychain right away.”

So that explains why she came. It also would of been better to have touch pad, or even facial recognition to enter the home. Anyone can just copy the key to your home. The fans are already crazy enough after that time you two saw one trying to follow you into your used-to-be shared apartment. It didn’t end so well either.

“ Why don’t you have touch-pad?” You say, sitting up with a disappointed look.

‘‘ Funny story. When the house was made I thought keys would be better than touch-pad on the outside because any paparazzi who manages to get through the front could snap pictures of the code. So why not use a key right?’‘

You just sigh and shake your head in disappointment, not even wanting to explain why that would still be a dumb idea. “ Whatever makes you happy.”

‘‘ But if you were there you would of stopped me.. right?”

Your eyes shoot down to him only to see him staring right back up into yours. The butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter once more. It’s been so long since you felt those.

‘‘ Yes. Yes I would have told you it was a dumb option because nobody can make it past security without calling you first.’‘ You whisper, both of your faces inches away from each other.

‘‘ I thought so. Can I make another dumb suggestion?’‘ His voice says, faint enough for you to hear making the hairs stick up on your neck.

You swallow slowly as chills run down your spine out of anxiety, ‘‘ What?’‘

‘‘ This.’‘

It all feels surreal to you. His lips against yours moving in sync together it’s all just surreal. Within seconds his tongue is swiping against your lips begging for entrance in which you comply. The way his hands rub up and down your thighs is sure to make you moan against the kiss, grabbing them to lead it to your core. He obliges and traces the outline of it outside of your clothing, laying you down gently on the couch in the process.

Until that painful doorbell rings loudly causing you both to groan. Jimin pulls away with a plop noise and give you a wink before lifting off of you to go see who is at the door. Your clothes are ruffled up a bit and that small wet spot between your legs seems to not too noticeable when you fix yourself up quickly.

Sex with Jimin. You almost had sex with Jimin. You feel wrong about it but at the same time you want nothing more to have him make you a screaming moaning mess. You miss him, the way his stroke game is, and everything about him dominating you in the bedroom. 

He’s still not yours though.

‘‘ Who is it?’‘

You sit up and fix your hair to at-least look presentable. That kiss meant everything to you. Your feelings and body enjoyed it but your mind did not. It slipped your mind that you should of pulled away. Nothing can replace how it felt to have his lips on yours again.

The door opens revealing Jungkook who’s face is a little red and breathing hard. He runs inside and shoves Jimin out the way before slamming the door shut and locking it with his back against the wall. You furrow your eyebrows and get up from the spot you’re sitting in.

‘‘ Jungkook what’s happening? Why are you run-”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

‘‘ Open the door now! I know you guys are in there! Jimin get your ass out here now!’’

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Your eyes go wide. That voice. That oh so familiar voice is standing right outside your apartment door. 

‘‘ I tried telling her you went to practice with Seokjin for some new choreography but she knew I lied. Im sorry I tried to run as fast as I could to my car to get away from her. She followed me here in her car and then I had to run some more up to your apartment.’‘ He breathes hard, handing the new set of keys to Jimin.

Shit! You have no words to say. This wouldn’t of all started if you wouldn’t have been so stubborn yesterday to just take a taxi. You wouldn’t of passed out, he wouldn’t have been here with you all day today.

That doesn’t excuse the fact that this girl is batshit crazy for following Jungkook and showing up at your actual fucking apartment. Jimin looks at you with sorriness in his eyes. You look at him with anger and cross your arms to prove your point as to why he should have left in the first place.

 ‘‘ Im going outside to talk to her. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Jimin’s hand pushes down the handle to the door and as soon as he cracks it open, the force of the door pushes open harshly hitting the wall next to it, making him stumble back a little.

‘‘ So you think it is okay to go to your exes apartment? I would never disrespect you like that Jimin, you know that!”  Rage has taken upon her, face red and it doesn’t already help that her facial expression is beyond pissed.

Slap!

You watch in horror as her hand connects with his left cheek. Jungkook’s eyes go wide, but then frown into anger before walking over to her. Stomping with each step he takes.

“ Watch what your fucking doing okay? That’s my brother and I certainly do not hit girls but with one click of a button Ryan will be on her way to beat your ass got it?’’ 

‘‘ Jungkook stay out of this! This isn’t your battle. Now you, you have some nerve letting him inside here. Obviously you were not enough for him to go cheating on you.” Isabel says, stepping away from Jimin and leaving him there at the door.

That one hurt. She does have a point though, you should of made Jimin leave regardless of what he said to you. You got caught up in the moments that weren’t meant to be yours. Its true, she has every right to be mad.

‘‘ I don’t appreciate you being around Jimin..” She inches closer to you, hands on her hips. You begin to back up, eyes to the ground of guilt. If only things wouldn’t have unfolded like this.

‘‘ Your relationship to him is starting to be inapropriate.” Isabel’s eyes make contact with yours when you look up. She looks at you as if you’re disgusting, and you can’t blame her.

‘‘ Isabel..’‘ Jimin warns, coming behind her.

On the heel of her feet, she turns around shaking her head. “You don’t deserve to talk. You care so much about her, but did you forget we are a couple? We may just be cooling things off between us, but you are still mine as I am to you.’‘

Jimin sighs, stopping just behind her, ‘‘ Isabel look..”

“ Jimin..” Jungkook starts, uneasy of what his brother is to say next. You know what’s coming and you know that tone of Jimin’s voice all too well.

The same one he used when breaking up with you. You see the tears well in her eyes. Some part of you feels bad for her because you know those words well. You know that feeling all too good.

‘‘ Are you really breaking up with me because of her? We were doing just fine until she showed back up in the picture. Are you seriously doing this?” Her voice cracks on the last words. That made your heart sting a bit. This isn’t right.

Jimin sighs looking at the two of you back and forth. You are the one for him, it’s no doubt. It was a stupid choice for him to cheat on you. It was a stupid choice for him to leave you in the dust like that. You gave him everything. A loving relationship, a home, happiness, you are the highlight of his days. He misses you just as much as you miss him.

“ Isabel we are through. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man to your expectations. It’s my fault. All my fault and I shouldn’t have let you belie-”

“ Fuck you. Fuck you Park Jimin.” Her words slice through the air, piercing Jimin right in his heart. It hurt for him to hear that, but he deserves it.

Jungkook doesn’t look so shocked, but he does wish Jimin would have did this else-where other than your apartment. Isabel looks at you with envy, reaching into her small chanel bag for something. Jungkook gives her a warning look to just leave before grabbing your arm to make you stand behind him.

“ Isabel I’ll walk you down. It’s best to just leave it be. Please.” Jimin begs from behind her. You watch the tears roll down her eyes and you still can’t help but to feel guilty.

You are the cause of their breakup. Maybe you really should have minded your business about Jimin. Maybe you shouldn’t have entertained his charming ways at all. Looking back down at her hands, you see a small pocket knife she grips tightly. You tap Jungkook and point which makes him push you behind him even more. 

“ It’s a bad idea. You can hurt me but you wont hurt my brother or her.” He says, daring her to make any type of movement towards you. 

Jimin comes behind her and attempts to grab the knife in which she slashes his palm on accident trying to push him away. In that quick second, Jimin hisses in pain while pulling away giving Isabel all the time she has to get to you while Jungkook is already across the room for his brother, forgetting you hiding behind him.

‘‘ Shit! Jimin are you okay?” He asks, but then quickly turns to you, “ Quick! Go hide! Hurry! “ Jungkook screams.

‘‘ Isabel this isn’t what he wants. He wants you to be happy and getting back at me will only upset him more!”  As if your words would even convince the crazy girl in the slightest. 

She just laughs as your words, fastly walking to you who’s, running towards the living area thinking it would cut time shorter if you cut through there to your bathroom.

You aren’t fast enough. She tackles you to the ground where you two rumble around trying to get away from her until she putting all her weight on you as she sits directly on your chest making it hard for you to breathe. 

“ Maybe a little mark on your face will tell you to stop home-wrecking people’s relationship.” She raises the knife up high and you watch in horror before she raises it back to in attempt to make a slash on your forehead.

You block each attempt at her trying to slash anything on your face. Your dad always told you to protect your face in self defense and fighting and thats what you do. Only until with one last thrush, the knife connects with your forearm, making a nice sized gash on it.

‘‘ Fuck!”

The voices in your area fade in and out. You look to your left to see Isabel being dragged out by a pair of cops. But the puddle of blood forming around you rapidly sends you into panic. Only you cant panic. You cant speak. Your vision is slowly loosing faith in you.

Open.

Close.

Open.

Close.

Open.

Cl-

[greycaelum]

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo Satoru X OC [Yotsuba Shina]

(Four Leaves & Five Streets Mafia/Yakuza AU Series)

[Summary: Entanglement with Gojo Satoru, scion of another influential Yakuza group proves to only bring bring destruction and chaos to Doctor Yotsuba Shina’s life. What if the menace proves to persistently worm his way to her life? When all she ever wanted was peace his chaos embraced her.]

[Tags & Warnings: arrangement, coercion, slight blood, medical conditions, experimentation, blackmailing]

[Notes: Word Count: 11.5k]

Chapter 5

"Shina, you must never turn your back on a patient."

Hazama-sensei often remind me in my internship under him. That is a common sense, why would Sensei always remind me that? I'm a doctor of course my patient's health is my priority at all times.

I only understood years later why Sensei keep saying this after my surgery on Gojo Satoru.

It's hard to not turn my back when he could easily flick his fingers and all I've work hard over the years fade to nothing.

"If you want to fix it then take responsibility." Hazama-sensei said.

The ringing of my phone interrupted my trip down the memory lane bringing me back to the present reality.

"Hahaue?" I accepted the call seeing mother's name flashed on the screen.

"Shina won't you come home? Let's have a proper talk with your Chichiue, I'm sure we can reach a compromise." Weariness and anxiety lace in her voice. She has been calling me every day since last week that I went back to Tokyo without saying goodbye.

"Hahaue, don't strain yourself with it. Even if we talk we all know nothing can change Chichiue's mind one's he settles." Stubborn as a mule, a trait that runs down deep and thick in the Yotsubas.

"We can settle this in a more civilized approach. Won't you at least come home for dinner when you come to Fukouka?"

"I don't know." In the first place I don't know if we can sit on a meal and talk 'civilized'. "I'll see what I can do with my schedule. Good night Hahaue," ending our phone call, I set down my phone on the side table and stare at the floating painting of koi fishes hanging on the high ceiling above my bed as if they could give me the answer to all of this.

I don't know how to process my mixed emotions.

I'm upset at my father for deciding my life without even saying a single morsel to me. I know very well I'm soon passing the marrying age for ladies but is that an enough reason for him to choose for me? I don't believe so, that's my future he's depriving me. Love can never be forced, that's not love but manipulation. I'm annoyed at Gojo for assuming he can use the engagement to make me abide his bidding.

My eyes wandered to my palm, the wound of clenching my nails against the skin is now healed.

Gojo... I have no idea how he treats the lady he said he likes, but at least he have someone, the faint glimmer of his eyes and soft smile he had while praising her tells me he must really like her a lot for a man his caliber to be smitten to that extent. I'd hate myself to be the reason of their fall out. But then again, the both of us are trapped in this engagement. He did say if I cooperate with him he'll give me freedom, cancelling our engagement is more than enough. Thinking carefully about it it's a win-win. He gets to be with his woman, while I get my freedom.

But can I trust a man like him?

Doorbell ringing loud interrupted my thoughts. I frown and look at the time, it read 7:28. It's a little too late for visitors but judging that this person was able to pass the foyer without the front desk calling me it must be someone I gave my password. Slipping in my footwear I reach for my robe, and walk to the living room and check the camera from the smart door lock.

Shoko in her casual blue turtle neck and khaki slack, holding a paper bag press the doorbell again. Immediately I run to the front door opening it. It's been so long since we had a sleepover!

"Hey, I got your favorite Chinese spring rolls and tempura," she presented to me the paper bag with the logo of that authentic diner I loved ever since college.

"You should've called me I don't have beer in the fridge." I made way letting her in, she immediately hop in the bathroom to have a shower. She has clothes in the cabinet whenever we have a sleepover. I went to the nook and arrange the food on the table and make do with the fruit juice sent over by Shiro nii-san.

Shoko is really testing me. She knows it very well I don't really eat during dinner, I can't sleep well with full stomach.

"I thought you're coming home tomorrow from your trip?" I turn to Shoko freshly out of the shower sporting black pajamas and made her way to the kitchen counter to sit across me and we start eating.

"Suguru drive me over here, I heard from him about you and Satoru. Would you believe the odds?" She confirmed and continued eating.

Shoko was with me when we operated Gojo. She was also the one who told me his identity. She also help me when he escaped from the hospital and kept me updated as he recover. If there's someone who knows what happened years ago it would be Shoko.

"My karma," I sighed.

I look at Shoko unsure of what else I can call the situation I am in right now if not for the past biting me just as Hazama-sensei said.

"By the way, remember that file I told you Satoru have been asking me? His medical records, I called Hazama-sensei's secretary, she said the doctor signed it out to you a year after he died."

Why would Sensei give me that as inheritance? It's been a year since he died, quietly. Unlike holding a grand funeral for a respectable man like him he choose pass away in his villa in the mountains and be buried there as well. He had no family and not much know where he lives.

Maybe on my way to Fukouka I'll ride the train and stop over Kobe to visit my Sensei's grave to pay respects.

"Gojo has been asking for his medical records? Why?" It's been more or less five years late for him to finally look into that incident.

"That was actually few months ago, he seem to be looking for Hazama-sensei, but as know he's dead." Shoko shrug, and frown pointing in my plate. "Would you stop pecking on your food and eat? That's why you're so small."

"That's my body's normal figure. Did he say why he's looking for him? Does he remember me?"

Gojo said it from his lips that we only met the day he came in the Yotsuba Estate. Means he totally doesn't remember meeting me years ago. But I just wanna be sure that he really don't have an idea I was involved with him years ago.

"No, he probably just wanna say thank you. Satoru can be a jerk but he knows how to repay a favor generously. Satoru never mentioned you to me, I remember talking to him about you years ago but he wasn't interested."

Good... The feeling is mutual.

"I heard from him he has a lover already?"

"Shina... Are you fishing out stories from me? I never knew you and Satoru talk a lot."

"No we're not! He blurt it out himself."

Shoko sip from her juice and continued passing me a raise brow and knowing smirk plastered her lips.

"Just a reminder, I don't want the two of you fighting because of this. You're both my friend and I think you should know this since you're gonna get married."

"We. Are. Not. Getting. Married. Ever!" I hissed. The hair on the back of my neck stands up just imagining it. No way!

"Satoru has been pursuing a woman, it's been years and from what Suguru told me they're going well."

Eh... So he can actually be devoted? That's unexpected, I thought he would be the kind that heartlessly dump girls like rag.

"What do you look delighted?" Shoko raise a questioning brow to my direction.

"I just find it fascinating and adorable he can actually treat a woman right," he did look happy telling me about her.

"You're not jealous?"

"Shoko, that man is the ticking time bomb in my life, of course I would be in ninth heaven once I get rid of him. He have his lady and I have my freedom, we go our separate ways and pretend nothing happen, and that's it! I can finally sleep in ease." Why would I be jealous? It's not like I have a thing for that random Q-tip.

"Whatever you say."

Then again, easier said than done. Gah!

Laying on the bed Shoko and I stare on the hanging painting of my koi fishes.

"Seriously Shina, it's not like Satoru will chop you down and throw you to a frying to be fried then he will eat you," Shoko rolled her eyes from my constant questions.

"How should I know?" I grumbled.

I still haven't forgot his annoying face warning and commanding me in the dinner. He scares me with how his emotions shift, one second he's goofy the next he can threaten me knowing he have the upper hand. Damn him for agreeing to this fiasco. Heavens forbid but I'm itching to wipe that silly grin off his face.

"He can be a jerk but Satoru would never hurt an innocent person, not intentionally," Shoko close her eyes and soon her breathing fall to a slow regular rhythm.

Forget it. I'll figure something out as I always did with my problems.

"The surgery is a success. Then we'll wait for a day or two 'til he wakes up," I smiled to the lady and man before me. Their son—we just finished an appendectomy surgery—is now wheeled to his room. I excused myself and went to discard my clothes.

After changing my scrub suit I walk back to my shared office. Opening the door I sighed and click my tongue. There's another large bouquet of violet hydrangeas on my desk.

"You could basically open a flower shop here," Shoko entered the door with an amused look on her haggard face, walking over her desk and lean on her chair.

Every day, it keeps coming and every day whenever I go on my rounds I would bring the flowers to give it to my patients. The patients in ward 56 loves the hydrangeas so they're the one receiving it every day with cheery smiles. Closing the door I walk to my desk and read the attached card. As expected it's from him, again.

I'm free this Friday. I'll pick you up 11:30. Let's go downtown for brunch.

Zen'in Naoya,

This man. Does he think I will go just because he don't have work to do?

Last day he came here in the hospital with a knife cut on his legs once again demanding me to attend on him. I could only sigh and treat him anyway while he keep chattering.

I don't know why he keeps bothering me may it be intentional or not.

This little cards are littering in my drawer to the brim over the weeks I don't know what to make use of them. It's not like I can feed this to human or my fishes. Maybe I can shred these and use it as fertilizer to my succulents. I stuff it to my bag to work on later evening, shredded paper is effective in seed protection and organic mulches.

"Shina-san, good afternoon," the door opened and Suguru-san in his black suits holding bento boxes waved at me.

"Good afternoon Suguru-san." This guy... His patience with Shoko over the years sure don't wane.

My eyes wandered to a boy behind him, semi long black hair and droopy eyes, in similar suit with Suguru-san but his shoulders are stiffer and eyes keep wandering around until it landed to me.

"Miss Yotsuba?" He asked with a cautious look on his face, from my peripheral vision I could see Suguru-san holding back a fit of laughter from the awkward boy glancing to me.

"Yes? Do you need something?" I gestured him to sit on the chair before me.

"I'm Okkotsu Yūta, Uncle Satoru sent me to fetc—I mean to ask you to have lunch with him," he cleared his throat.

I bet he almost said 'fetch'. What could Gojo want now? It's been more than a week after that dinner.

"I can't go, I have work," I motioned to my papers stacking and the clock, "I only have an hour for lunch."

As if already expecting my words Yuta reached in the pocket square of his suit producing a folded paper and extended it to me.

"Uncle sent this for you."

Accepting the paper I look over Suguru-san who shrug and I opened the paper.

'Either you come to have lunch with me or I pick you up myself to have dinner later. Choose wisely.'

This man. I heave a heavy breath, I could barely suppress my annoyance, I laugh darkly instead.

"Don't worry, I'll cover for you," Shoko nod at me.

"An hour only," I look at Yuta who nod in agreement. Shoko shooed me saying the faster I get there the quicker I get back. I followed Yuta to the parking lot where a sleek black BMW is waiting for us. He opened the door and I climb in and Yuta move around to get in the driver seat and we move out of the parking lot.

"How long is it from here?" I asked, I'm afraid the travel time is longer than the meal.

"Just a five minute travel Shina-san."

Hmmm, so he's here in the city. That's not a surprise, but he could've pick a better time. Why do people keep to me thinking I have the time in the world? I shifted my attention to Yuta who was silently driving, coming to a stop when the traffic light hit red.

"Is there something wrong Miss Yotsuba?" Yuta shifted on his seat.

"Shina is fine, no need for formalities with me. I just remember you're the one tailing me to the night I went home to Tokyo alone, no?"

Yuta's eyes squinted and awkwardly chuckled.

"Was I that easy to be seen?"

"Not at all, call it woman's intuition." I smiled and let the matter go not wanting to put him in more awkward position.

The drive continued and I can't help but stare the the young boy. Nao nii-sama use to bring me in the yakuza business and fights behind our parents backs when I was a teenager, it's just that I stopped since entering med school. A gangster doctor doesn't sound pleasant.

"Yuta was it? Do you join in Gojo's yakuza business?"

"Yes, Uncle brings me with him and Suguru-san as their bodyguard," he answered.

"How... old are you again?" He looks too young to be a guard, even Nanami who's our family's most trusted man only became an official bodyguard when he's 21.

"I'm 20."

I blinked and look at him again. He's just twenty? I thought he was 17 or something.

"Actually, I was 16 when my parents died and Uncle showed in our doorstep to adopt me. Don't misunderstand Shina-san, Uncle never told or ask me to join in the group," Yuta stopped again at the red lights and look back to me with a smile. "I just want to also protect him, so he could rest too and not worry much."

...

I nod understandingly, taken aback of his reasoning he's pure and loyal, Gojo is fortunate to have this kind of niece by his side. Yuta started driving at the green lights, he pointed to me the skyscraper at the heart of the city, the Gojo International Tower. It's an oblong shaped crystalized structure and by its other side is another mid-rise building and on the center is circular foyer connecting the two buildings. I also noticed there are plenty of trees which make the sight pleasant to the eyes, no one would suspect it as one of the headquarters of the largest yakuza group in the country.

The car drive to the basement and when I went out Yuta led me to a private steel elevator. I couldn't help but notice this is the same style we have in my brother's mid-rise where I live. It saves space and privacy at the same time.

Yuta called through his headset reporting we're on our way.

"Shina-san is there something you want to eat for lunch?"

"Cheesecake and strawberry parfait. The one from Eclairs Cafe in Ginza." That's probably 15 minutes’ drive just enough time Gojo and I finish whatever talk he wants.

The elevator dinged reaching the 43rd floor, Yuta led me in one of the executive office.

"Uncle already adjourned his meeting, he'll be here in a second. Please wait here Shina-san."

The door opened revealing a dark office, the wall is dominated by sleek dark wood on the other side is a window wall looking down the city of Tokyo, the floor is laid of beige grey wood flooring planks and the furniture are in black motif. It's tad stiff and suffocating for my liking.

"Frowning again?"

I stiffened at the baritone voice with a hint of playfulness. Gojo in his black suit and glasses step inside. I turned around and met his eyes. He smiled brightly and surveyed the office and back to me.

"Come, there's lunch prepared in my penthouse. You don't suit here," he beckoned me.

What the hell does that mean?

"Why stay in my office if I'm inviting you in my house? Tch, over thinker." Gojo clicked his tongue and opened the door wider gesturing me to go out. "And please, stop frowning you're going to get wrinkles."

"I have work, what do you want from me?"

We pass a long hallway and enter the elevator leading to his penthouse.

"I also have work but I made time for you," he added in a matter-of-fact tone. "Or maybe I should've come over to pick you up and bring you to a nice restaurant downtown?"

I glared at him making Gojo hold his hands up in mocking surrender with a smirk on his lips.

"Never come near my workplace." I don't want any news or issues that would land me on a tabloid for snagging one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, not to mention the top dangerous at that. "Well, not unless you're hurt." I cleared my throat.

"No worries, I don't like hospitals much. We're both busy but an hour lunch won't hurt." The elevator door opened and Satoru gestured me to step out first.

I waited for him to finish inputting the password and he grip the gold handle and pushed open the sleek black steel door leading me inside.

The strong scent of warm, leathery, and slightly creamy sweet fragrance invaded my nose. Sandalwood? It smells so nice and relaxing.

The whole place is so spacious and modern. The receiving area have clean window walls from the high ceiling to the floor giving the space natural sun light, the walls are in off white and gray wood texture, the furniture arranged neatly by the corner not blocking the path, the floor is laden of pristine white tiles. His penthouse is squeaky clean that I couldn't point out or see a single stain or dust in any corner. In his living room I couldn't help but notice contemporary abstract paintings hanging on the wide gray walls.

"Yuta made that one," he pointed to the white canvas splattered with unconventional and chaotic dark ink, it's so simple and beautiful with the recklessness it displays. "Suguru made that," he nod to a blurry cube with numerous eyes in the centre of clean white canvas.

So he's not one of those traditional men keeping ancient paintings. That's thoughtful of him to display the works of his friends in his house.

Gojo lead me to the next room which is the kitchen, on the white marble countertop there's lunch served, especially the cheesecake I asked and other more dishes most of them are fried and dry.

"You thought about the deal I told you last time?"

Gojo loosened his tie and popped the first two buttons of his inner shirt, sighing in relief as he sat on the stool across me, not bothering on inviting he turned his plate up and start serving food for himself.

I removed my eyes from the display of his defined collarbones.

"Yes, I have." I guess I thought too highly of him. I cut a slice of my cheesecake and start eating as well.

I stare at Gojo silently eating gyoza and shumai in his plate. Call me weird but how can he look that striking and relaxed while chewing? As if he could blend in everywhere in his Brioni suit and black rimless glasses set aside, he might as well endorse a street food and still look effortlessly draw in the crowd of bystanders.

"Next time, I'd appreciate if you don't disturb me while working," I cleared my throat, I don't appreciate my mind getting distracted by his looks.

"Hmmm?" Gojo look up to me with his cheeks bulging from food. Darn it! Is he purposely looking like a hungry bunny? I remember clearly he wasn't like this in the dinner last week. He was just normally eating without having these strange forwardness. Moreover he doesn't seem to be bothered from his lack of decorum. "Come again? The shumai was delicious I didn't hear you."

...

Calm down Shina. He's just teasing you. He's. Just. Teasing. I inhaled a long breath and grit my teeth.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Ohhh" he nod as if finally understanding the answer to 1 plus 1. "I need your skills. Of course if you agree I will grant your wish with all I could."

That talk, again? I pass him a deadpan look not appreciating the topic.

"I don't want anything to do with you."

Gojo hummed to himself, his posture lax taking no offense at all.

"I expected as much, here. I think you'll be interested in this."

He leaned down and opened the cabinet, pulling out an inch thick of paper, fastened in four bundles and push it over the table to me.

I skim over the papers. There's no patient name, the address and health care provider is also empty. Weird.

Diagnosis

Hypertension

Migraine

Hyperacidity

Severe Dehydration

Anorexia

What is this? I read over the clinical summary.

The patient has been suffering from hypertension and migraine over the years. On 201X, the patient started taking medication and decreased the intervals of attacks and became healthier. Two years later, on 202X the patient suddenly collapsed and developed hyperacidity, anorexia and severe dehydration, thus worsening the patient's underlying conditions.

"There's more," Satoru ushered another file to my perusal. "The patient is showing symptoms of kidney failure."

"How long since the symptoms started?"

"I had Shoko run a GFR last week, it was less than 60, 45 to be exact." he trailed down.

A glomerular filtration rate or GFR is a blood test that checks how well your kidneys are working. The kidneys have tiny filters called glomeruli. These filters help remove waste and excess fluid from the blood. A GFR test estimates how much blood passes through these filters each minute. 60 or more is the normal range. Less than 60 signifies a kidney disease. 15 below is kidney failure, that's where dialysis or kidney transplant occurs. Moreover the GFR cannot be raise anymore, a person can only try to maintain his health and keep it from going lower.

I read through the other files, this time there are names provided and all of them have the same symptoms.

They all have some kind of disease, took medication, led a healthy life and one by one deteriorated in just the span of three years, all 12 of them died except the one with no name on the medical file.

"There's no name of the disease." I look at Satoru who nodded solemnly.

Perhaps a stimulant, when taken in large doses initially relieves the patient its diseases and overworks the organs leading to complications years later.

"This medication, is this some kind of drug? Are you the one producing it?" I look at him with blank eyes. If ever he does...

"It could be some kind of drugs. And no, it's not mine. The files your holding was passed down to me. Read the last page."

For some reason relief wash over me because of his words. I was frazzled that if he's actually the cause of this, I'd lose all what's left with the little amity I have with him. I turned the last page and muttered a curse under my breath. My heart raced and the oxygen in my lungs suddenly thinned out.

Physician Signature signed by Hazama Keigo

Patient's Name signed by a chrysanthemum seal,

His Imperial Highness, Emperor Tengen

What the fuck is this?! Some kind of sick prank? I look at Gojo in indignation who look at me totally unperturbed, as if already awaiting my reaction.

"You're telling me the Emperor is currently between life and death? Last month he just came back from Bhutan. Explain." I growled.

"He collapsed 2 weeks ago," was his curt answer.

"2 weeks ago? The date here is 2020, a year ago. And Hazama-sensei died 2020..." I cut myself, piecing the details.

That means this medical file is already out of date..? Which means the current situation of the Emperor is much worse? Sensei isn't the person to attend in a patient when he's not in his best. Why would he accept the Emperor's case? Unless Gojo fabricated this. For what?

I clenched my fist. There's no merit for him if he fabricated this file.

"Calm down Shina. The Emperor is in his vacation house under the strict care of his subjects. Here's where the deal I told you comes in." Gojo poured a glass of water and motioned me to drink it. "I want you to be His Majesty's attending physician, and make sure he recovers. I will provide whatever you need during the time being, there's more to those papers you will study if you agree. But this case needs to be kept under the table. No mass media or huge group of doctors involved. That's also His Majesty's request."

"Why me? There's Doctor Kamo, and the top experts in the country, they'd be more than happy to serve His Majesty."

"I can only answer that once you agree. I'm afraid it's a confidential information. Continuing," Gojo shrug, "Of course if you agree you'll be heavily compensated. His Majesty hopes you agree and promises to reward you as well.”

I look at the papers, these symptoms. On first glance it seems to be easy but with those other records I don't think it's just some coincidence. And Hazama-sensei... His patients are all important to him. I have huge debts to my mentor I can never repay in this lifetime. And...

Never turn my back on a patient.

"I heard you don't like to be involved in the Yakuza business? If you cure the Emperor, I will dissolve our engagement, and give you and your future family safety even if you're not connected to me anymore. Aside from that I can assure you a peaceful life away from all of this," Gojo painted his negotiation with something that'll make me turn a second look. Cunning.

"What if I won't do it?" His deal is tempting, so tempting but I'm not a fool.

Gojo look at me for a moment and ruthlessly smirk, his glasses slid down his nose giving me a full view of his icy electric blue orbs drilling holes in me.

"You could say bye-bye to your freedom Milady. Either I marry you and keep you around as my trophy wife or make you my mistress until you die."

The hell he will. Didn't he said he already said he has a woman?

"I keep on forgetting, but you're cruel than my father. Both of you are ruthless but you're tenfold of a tyrant behind that grin of yours."

Gojo Satoru. Carries lemon lollipop in his sleeves, projects a silly grin on his face and he even treated my wounded palm but that's not enough to wipe the fact he's the head of Japan's largest Yakuza group.

Stupid Shina, right from the start that man screams trouble in my life.

"Why? There's Shoko, she's ten times a better choice compared to me." Compared to me she's a better choice.

"I already asked her. But I remember you're Hazama-sensei's student—his only apprentice to be exact. He saved me from dying years ago," Gojo's hand rub his chest and smile a little. "If it weren't for him I'd be dead by now. Too bad he died before I could even say thank you. You're his student I trust you're as skilled as he is." He stared at me with a convinced expression.

So he really doesn't know. That years ago it was I who... Forget it, of course he wouldn't know. I made sure not to leave a trace of me connected to him.

"Also the Emperor agreed with me and specifically wanted you as well," he added.

I don't know if I could call that an honor.

"What about your girlfriend? You need to clear it to her I'm not interested in you and it was just an arrangement of our parents." I don't ever want to encounter a lady who'll shout at me for being a home wrecker and taking away Gojo from her. "Right from the start I have no interest in you." I added looking at him straight in the eyes.

It's the best we clear this up.

"She doesn't really care about you. Don't worry about her, she could understand me." Gojo nodded.

"I won't say yes until I see the situation with my own eyes, but I'll ask my lawyer to draw us a contract, for now" I nod. "Besides, even if I say no or yes, both are leading me to hell anyway." I shrug.

In every prize requires a risk then so be it. If I want my freedom Gojo's my best chance. This is the answer to my troubles. I will make sure to treat the Emperor... Whatever it takes.

"Choose the hell you want to live in... huh? Sounds like a great plan!" A triumphant smile dawn on Satoru's lips. "Sure just send it to me, and I'll also send the other details over. For starters," he pulled a CD case and pass it to me. "You could watch it, that's the observation and data of the patients who passed away."

I nod and accepted the CD, sliding it in my coat's inner pocket. My eyes landed on my watch and noticed it's been 45 minutes. I need to get back to work.

I look up to Gojo to say goodbye and found him staring at me.

"Shina. Why do you want freedom so much?" He softly murmured.

Huh? Is this another of his jok— I stare back at him. There's no sign of jest in his eyes, nor any trace of amusement on his face. He's simply staring at me straight and waiting for my answer.

Why would he ask that?

"Doesn't everyone wants to be free?" I asked him back waiting for his reply.

No one wants to be caged or weighed down, isn't that right?

Gojo stared at me with his dark blue eyes but didn't answer back and instead called Yuta to drive me back.

"I'll have Yuta pick you up later. We'll finish out talk with the other details over dinner." He nod and crossed his arms watching me set aside my utensils and wipe my mouth with the table napkin.

"No promises." I nod back and saw Yuta waiting for me.

We left the building and I didn't brought the papers with me. I'm befuddled how this could be honestly happening right now, the Emperor is currently deteriorating and I'm not sure what's going on. Yuta walked me in the hospital until my office and politely said goodbye with Suguru-san who patted my shoulder before getting kicked out by Shoko for blocking the door. The two males left leaving me and Shoko.

Raising her eyebrows she waited for me to start. She knows me a little too well...

"I can't say much but it's related to the GFR he asked you to be tested in the lab."

I have a bad feeling about this.

That afternoon the hospital was filled with emergency cases after a car and bus crash. The emergency room is flooded and we could barely attend to the injured.

"Doctor we have a patient needing immediate surgery," a nurse approach me and lead to a stretcher with a man covered by blanket 'til his neck.

Looking over the chart and opening the flap, the right leg is severely damaged.

"Ready the operating theater. Have you seen Dr Fujiko? I need her to assist."

The nurse fidgeted.

"Uhm Doctor Fujiko left lunch today, Mr Yoshiwara came to pick her up and she hasn't returned yet."

I pulled up my sleeve to see the time, 17:39. And she hasn't returned yet? Yoshiwara? That's one of the board members.

"Prepare the operating room, I'll be there, thank you." I nod with a grim face.

The nurse flinched and immediately left.

She could've at least come back after her tete-a-tete with that old and grey man. The audacity of her to leave work and neglect duty when she's needed the most. I grit my teeth and head to the OR.

Good grief.

I stumbled in my apartment almost falling face first good thing I grab on the coat rack.

"I'm hungry," I whined hoping there's food in the fridge.

The emergency cases and the rest of work lasted for 28 hours and I have to stay back for another three hours. My shoulders feels so stiff and aching.

The sound of door opening and footsteps alerted me. A shadow loomed on the corridor and step out of the wall corner. Who would sleep in my house? My brothers?

A yawning Satoru stretching his long arms his body topless and sweatpants dangerously hanging on his hips, he's barefooted at that.

W-what?! My eyes widened and gawk at him sauntering around my house. He walk to the other side and walk back holding a bag of loaf bread on his arms.

What is going on here? I staggered out of the door and examine the flat number. 45. That's my flat number the last time I checked.

A chuckle from inside made me flinch and look back to Gojo comfortably leaning on the wall of the hallway with his arms crossed looking at me.

"Get yourself clothes," I glared at him.

I've seen countless bodies and I must admit Gojo have a body that could break necks, neither lean nor scrawny nor too bulging muscles like the body builders, best word would be well toned, his muscles defined with every line and ridges all in the right place like a work of art intricately maintained but my eyes wandered to the scars marring his skin.

I swallowed huge lump not wanting to imagine how he got those scars coming on different sizes adorning his body. I've seen tons of bodies to faze me with this show but his is another story. My eyes drifted to his pectorals where his heart and underneath is his spleen, there's a barely noticeable stitches blending in his fair skin. I made sure to stitch him up perfectly so it won't leave a scar but he escaped the hospital even before I could remove my stitches.

"G'morning Shina, I got you cheese toast in five," he cock his head motioning me to get inside.

"How did you get inside?" I cup my head checking if this is a dream that I fell asleep in the hospital and I'm currently in REM stage of sleep.

Gojo shrug and pull out from his pocket a black with gold lining card waving it to me.

"Your father allowed me inside, he even graciously sent me a spare card."

Troublesome. I clicked my tongue. Chichiue is really pushing it.

"You didn't answer my calls last night so I thought we should talk in your place but then again, you didn't come home," he explained as if it's the most obvious thing.

"Let me sleep first, I'm lightheaded."

He nod and slip his hands in his pocket walking inside leaving me to my own. The way he takes my house for some kind of park where he can just visit irks me a little. I sighed and followed inside, slipping out of my coat and enter the common bathroom.

I showered while the bathtub is being filled in with warm water.

I'm not happy with how he just appeared out of nowhere. But I'm not upset either. I sigh feeling the warm water as I slip in the large tub, sinking to the water 'til it reaches my chest.

It's more like I was just taken aback and irked that someone just comes barging in my house unannounced. Shoko and my family are the only one who have access in my house, it took all of them few years before entering my abode while Gojo just managed to waltz in without my permission, and on the top of that it was my father who once again interfered. Gojo is my fiancé even if I don't formalize it with him I am well aware that sooner or later it will publicize. I also know that as long as this engagement is still on, he will step in my place I just didn't thought it would be this early.

My phone ringed, I plan to ignore it but the ringtone set for my family contacts played again. Pushing myself up I walk to the lavatory where my phone is and went back in the tub not wanting my little comfort end.

"Haku Aniue, good morning, do you need something?"

"Shin, good morning. Okaa-sama asked me if you're coming home tomorrow. You didn't call Nanami to pick you up in the airport."

I could hear the constant tapping of the keyboard in the background while my eldest brother keeps talking. He must be working.

"I'm not sure if I could come tomorrow Aniue. I'll just take the train if ever I go home."

I might stop over Hazama-sensei's home in Kobe along the way. I can't do that if I take the jet.

"How about your work in the general hospital? It's rare for you to skip work here. You love working in the general hospital. Are you not feeling well? Should I call Nao to check on you?" he mused and stopped typing.

I agree, I could count in one hand how many times I didn't come to work in Fukouka. The main is reason would be me sick other than that no more. People in the general hospital are amiable and the patients, most of them knew me and would greet me when they see me in the streets of the city, while there are also few who evade me after knowing I'm the daughter of the largest yakuza group in the prefecture. Nonetheless Fukouka is undoubtedly my home.

"No need, Nao nii-sama is in Kyoto isn't he? I'm fine I just need sleep after a 31 hours shift. Don't worry about me Aniue I already informed the hospital and please tell Hahaue not to worry too."

"Did you already talk with Otou-sama?"

...

"No."

I still remember his words crystal clear ringing in my ear. I don't think we could see each other eye to eye. Or more like I can't. Even if I'm angry with my father I don't want to say something to disrespect him. Staying out of each other's line of sight is better for now.

"Shina, I can't persuade Otou-sama to let cancel your engagement. I also know you don't like Gojo Satoru. But if ever he tries to hurt you, don't hesitate to call me," Aniue assured me.

"No worries Aniue, if ever he do any monkey business I'll send him flying with a kick like you taught me," I joked and he sighed on the other line.

"And a kick to his crotch too," he added making me laugh. "By the way, did Sukuna call you? I can't contact him for weeks now."

"Nope. You know that old man, he goes on and off the radar. If he calls I'll tell him you want to talk."

Aniue thanked me and we said our byes. I move out of the tub and wipe my body, opting to wear pajamas and blow-dry my hair.

At this point I just really want to hit the sack and sleep the whole day. I dump my clothes on the laundry and walk out of the bathroom. I saw Gojo in my kitchen counter, sitting on the high stool sipping on a mug with two plates of cheese toast and bacon. He saw me and I walk to him, sitting on the other side. He's changed into a white loose fit shirt and his black short leather gloves back on covering his large hands

"I got you milk instead, you're sleeping after this right?" He started eating while keeping an eyes at me taking the glass of milk to my mouth.

There's that temper shift of his again. A day ago he was threatening me now he's being nice again. He's so hard to read but getting along with him is easy.

"Yeah, how about you?" I reach beside the counter and pulled a remote, pressing a button for the blinds of the kitchen windows to pull up and the morning sunlight permeate in the kitchen.

"I'm going back to the Tower, I'll come back in the night. When's your next shift?"

"10 am tomorrow in Fukouka, but I already called I can't come."

"I brought the papers, they're in the cabinet beside your bed," Gojo remarked.

I nod and continued eating. I'll read over them later... I froze and look at Gojo who smiled at me.

"You entered my bedroom?" I sputtered indignantly, unbelieving he invaded my haven!

"Yeah, I fell asleep there waiting for you." He shrug with a grin.

This man!

"If you didn't made me breakfast I would've thrown you out," I cursed him mentally and pop the last strip of bacon to my mouth. "I'm still irritated at you for threatening me." I added.

"Don't take it to heart, if you finish the job you don't have to see my face anymore," Satoru smirk sipping on. "That CD, we should watch it together. I'll bring popcorn tonight."

He's really treating my house like a park now. I turn to smile sweetly at him making Gojo raise a brow at me.

"Gojo Satoru-san, since when did my house become a theatre? Don't forget I didn't give permission to enter my house, you barge in. I could charge you for trespassing. And don't use the reasoning that my father gave you permission, I'm not my father and he's not the one paying for this flat. Forbid me but I want to strangle you right now," I grumbled between my tight lips.

I pay my fees with my own money even if this building is owned by my family. The next time I see Nao nii-sama I'm gonna hit him with a shinai for giving a spare card to Chichiue.

"C'mon don't be so uptight Shina-chan," Gojo tutted me with a wink.

"You owe be a new bedsheet and pillowcases."

"Sure, anything else?"

"When are we meeting the Emperor?"

Gojo's phone ringed interrupting our talk. He look at me and I nod.

"Suguru, I'm having breakfast, I'll be there in 15 minutes," he ended the call. "Sleep, I'll be back later."

He grabbed his black overcoat hanging on my sofa and went back to me.

"I'll be going."

"By the way Gojo," I called out making him look back at me. "Please bring ice cream later."

...

He chuckled and nodded. "As you wish Milady,"

Approximately 500 kilometres from Tokyo in an ostentatious Japanese villa in Kyoto hidden by tall deciduous broad-leaved forests trees, a young man with sharp brown eyes and blonde hair accented with dark tips, wearing two earrings on the top of his left ear and sports formal attire. He wears a dark-colored kimono over a white high-necked shirt with a buttoned collar and completes his outfit with light-colored hakama bottoms. His hand hold a clean towel and the other a derringer gun cleaning it with precision and focus not messing a corner of the firearm.

"Our informant in the Yotsuba Clan has sent a message Naoya-sama," an elder man in kimono and black hakama spoke behind him.

"Hmmm, that imbecile sure took his time. So, what did he say?" Naoya stopped wiping and look back to the older man, brown eyes glinting against the dark room. The sharp gaze was enough to make the butler lower his eyes and gulp eyeing the palms sized gun on the hand of the young man.

"Yotsuba Shina-sama is engaged with Gojo Satoru, their wedding still in indefinite date as of now."

...

"Eh..." Naoya hummed in amusement but his eyes grew shades darker and a grim line set on his lips, face turning darker every second passing. "She's engaged, huh?"

"The informant also sent about the next trade of the Yotsu-"

"When?" Naoya cut the man off.

"On the next week."

"Her engagement, you fool. When did she get engaged?" Naoya glared making the butler bow in apology and stuttered.

"L-last two weeks, in Yotsuba Soryo and his Oku-sama's anniversary."

"Leave." Naoya said, the calm of his voice betrayed the slicing look on his narrowed eyes.

The sliding door closing was the last straw.

"Gojo fucking Gojo!" Naoya hissed, vitriol spewing from his gritted teeth, if his eyes could burn holes he would find Gojo Satoru and glare at him until his body is punctured to the last of its bits.

"You always take what I want, each and every one." Naoya growled, bitter bile rising in his guts as the image of the white haired man surface in his mind. "What do you have that I don't? Bastard!"

Flipping out his phone he dialed the number under 'Unknown' ID Caller. It took two rings before the other line picked up.

"Oh, you're faster than I thought. What do you need from me Zen'in-san?"

"You failure. I let the first one slide off because of the stupid rat shooting Shina-san that was an accident. But you told me I could still have her. Who do you think supports you and keeping you alive until now?"

A sigh is heard from the other line.

"I did what I could to prevent this from happening. It's better this way or else we'll raise suspicion in our side. If you really want Shina then make sure you keep your end of bargain, Zen'in-san."

"You think you can threaten me?" Naoya chuckled darkly and voice turned low. "I could easily kill you or expose your ruse. Don't try me."

"Of course I am well aware of what you can do Zen'in-san, but don't think I'm your errand boy." The voice on the other line hummed and chuckled adding more to Naoya's seething rage boiling inside him kept underneath his perfectly woven sly expression.

"I am only connecting with you because we gain from each other Zen'in-san. If I could make Yotsuba mine I could hand you Shina. But if you dare use me against my will I will burn down Zen'in with you, keep that in mind."

"Don't get cocky. You're nowhere higher than me, if not for Shina I would never think of lending you hand."

"She must've charmed you very much, no? I agree she's a beauty, poised and regal like her Mother, but you think you can handle her attitude? Let's not forget you misogynistic tendencies, you won't stand a week with her."

"Mind your business and get your work done. You keep stalling time that Gojo got her when I saw her first."

"Of course, you can count on my performance. Well then." The line ended.

"Shina-san... I would never let Gojo have you." Naoya muttered like a vow in the blank wind.

He remembers the furrow of her brow seeing him in her clinic, she might act mad but whenever her fingers graze his skin it's filled with attentiveness, she might spew snappy words at him but she would still remind him to care for his wound. Every time he observes her focused look he can't help but wonder why she became a doctor, it's just so parallel to the line of industry he family works on.

It beguiles him why she would work as hard as she does when her clan could provide for her. The women in the Zen'in doesn't work in the society. They stay at home like the docile housewives women are expected. Although with her working in the hospital works in favor to him because he could visit her from time to time. But now he can't move freely knowing there's a guard from that Gojo standing by watching over her.

For someone like him... With his obligation and position in the Zen'in clan people suck up to him with intentions just as he uses them for his purposes. But Shina... she's different from the rest, she doesn't care who and what he can do. For someone like him she's like a breath of fresh air with genuine care for him. Naoya can't let that normalcy slip his hold.

When I asked Satoru to bring over ice cream I meant a tub or two, never did I expect him to buy more than fifteen tubs that I have to stuff in my already filled fridge. And when I told him he owes me a bed sheet and pillowcases I didn't mean for him to bring over his blanket and pillows and put it in my bed.

"I'm a guest, why are making me sleep in the sofa?" His arctic brows furrowed while arranging his pillows beside mine.

"Correction, you're not and there's no way I'm letting you sleep beside me. What would your girlfriend say? I don't care if you're whoring around but don't drag me in your shenanigans," I pulled his blanket making him fell to the side and hissed.

"Look I'm not going to sleep with you, I'm going to sleep beside you," he emphasized his words and huffed.

"You can sleep in your home. Why are you even invading mine?" I refuse to give him back the blanket and pulled on it harder until I got to throw it above the couch.

"I told you were going to talk," Gojo reasoned.

"And that doesn't mean you need to stay over."

Gojo's shoulders slumped down and sighed.

"Shinzo warned me about this."

"Huh?" I crossed my arms not catching his muttering.

"Nothing, can't you just let me sleep? I badly need one." He look at me with tired blue eyes.

"I can clear the next room if you really want to sleep. And no, you're not sleeping beside me." With finality I left my room and opened the next door. Pulling the white linen covering the bed I opened the cabinet to get new pillow cases and duvet. Every weekend a cleaning firm comes over to do deep cleaning in the flats so I don't have to bother worrying for dust. Turning the AC open and spraying a mild chocolate room spray I exited the door and walk back to my room.

"Oi."

Gojo is currently lying on MY bed, curled up like a cat clutching his pillow with my blanket covering him. His eyes shut and unmoving.

"Gojo seriously, we need to talk. Come down the drawing room when you're ready," I sighed and let him be, gently closing the door and walk downstairs. Forcing an unwilling person isn't my cup of tea.

I sit on the leather couch in the drawing room and extend my legs to the rest of the space, clicking my phone open I played Falling by Zhiend while reading over some files. A pair of footsteps approach the room and Gojo plop himself to the other seat across me, a dissatisfied look plastered on his face glaring at me. I raised my brow at him and put down the paper to the table.

"The room next my bedroom is clean, you can sleep there later."

He ignored me and asked if I have a laptop. I went to my office and got my laptop returning to the drawing room he handed me the CD from last time and told me to play the file.

"Can you clear your schedule tomorrow? I'll take you to the Emperor's villa."

I nod, yesterday I already called in the general hospital in Fukouka I cannot come. Looking at the things concerning the Emperor's situation I might consider taking an exit in the general hospital until I sort things out in my end.

The video started in a dark room, the surgical lights lit and people wearing personal protective gears. They prepared what seems to be the operating room, the camera angle is not good but from here I could see the patient wheeled in and transferred to the operating table.

She looks familiar.

"That's one of the patients in the medical records I gave you," Gojo offered.

One of the person in PPE came forward. They move the surgical towel to the head of the woman and started the operation.

"But in the records it was her colon... They're performing craniotomy." I look at Satoru and back to the video. He handed me the medical records and I scan over it again. Her liver was greatly affected.

The incised surface was irregular in all around, and varicoloured changes. Especially at hilus, damage was severe involving in many vessel. The hepatocytes were degenerative atrophy. There was a contiguity of nucleus in cell soma because of body-modification. Her organs showed signs of advance aging, it's only a matter of time before she dies.

In her intestines; they were covered of wide range of necrosis at colon and rectum and mucosae showed almost all ulceration and bleeding remarkably. The necrotic tissue was malacic liquefaction. Presuming these changes were according to the influence of anything unidentified incoagulable substance.

Her colon is already half rotten.

Craniotomy is a surgery to cut a bone opening in the skull. A section of the skull, called a bone flap, is removed to access the brain underneath. It's a high risk surgery considering that one slip of the scalpel the patient could be reduced to vegetative state, worse leading to death.

I gasp seeing the surgeon slice open the part of the brain.

"Stupid that will kill her." Just as expected the ECG went to flat line and they wheeled out the dead body. This process repeated over and over, they've been slicing the patients and observing the organs but this kind of process... I clenched my fist. This is a human experiment defying the principles of medical ethic. How could they treat those people like rags?

It's the same as running guinea pigs but in this case they're replaced by humans. Apart from that they didn't show any sign of reflection, wheeling patients in and splitting them apart. How could they swallow while doing these? Using research as a reason won't even cut it. This is not a research but manslaughter.

"Shina, look at me," cold touch hover on my cheek snapping me out of my dark thoughts.

Gojo leaned over, his gloved hand brushing my damp cheeks. I touch my face feeling the moisture. I didn't realize my tears falling.

"How did you get these footage?" I move his hand returning it to him and wipe my tears.

"Mei-mei got it for me."

That family with the large intel service.

"Who's behind all of this?"

Gojo's lips set into a grim line and shake his head.

"Would you believe me?"

"It depends on your answer."

"I think it's best if you don't know. I'm still gathering evidences." He sighed.

I stare at Gojo who eyed me with a profound look.

"Make it stop."

The video stopped and Gojo remove the CD.

"We need to make sure this information doesn't leak. You'll be doing your research related to this case in my place."

"Just to remind you, I haven't agreed to this yet. We still have a contract to sign," I already called my lawyer earlier and he started drafting it. It should be delivered tomorrow.

"I know, but I have a hunch what will happen."

I suppose so. This trip to see the Emperor and withholding my answer is a security blanket I need to check if I can do something about His Majesty's predicament.

"We'll be taking the chopper tomorrow, 9 am at the helipad in the Tower. Rest you'll need it," Gojo urge me and cleaned the desk.

"Gojo..." I trailed off, but it made him stop and look at me. "After our trip to His Majesty, I'm going home but I'm stopping over Kobe to my mentor's home. There should be something he left in his home about this case. I'll also need Shoko to review this with me, those surgeons seem to be operating mainly in the brain but there's no results, next I need you to look for a kidney donor just in case. Last is there a ready to be used operating room in His Majesty's villa?"

"Didn't expect you're this quick to lay out a plan. Leave it to me, I'll arrange a car to wait for you in Kobe, as for Shoko I'll talk to her but we can't drag her in this I doubt Suguru would agree to it. The kidney donor... after you run tests on His Majesty I'll see what I can do and yes there's an operating room in the villa all in advance technology."

"No need to arrange a car for me, I'll go there alone. Hazama-sensei don't like people coming in his house... I'm going to bed." I muttered leaving him in the sofa, walking upstairs to my room.

I feel like throwing up. What have I brought myself into this time? This isn't the grossest surgery or the dangerous I've seen but this is the most inhumane one I've encountered until now.

That night I tossed around my bed unable to sleep. If possible I want to pull the sun to shine already. My mind kept wandering to the Emperor. He doesn't have any nominal political power in the country anymore but he is greatly loved by the citizens. His Majesty is the symbol of the state and the unity of people and still the ceremonial head of state. Unfortunately His Majesty doesn't have any children, the Empress died in a young age and the Emperor refuses to remarry, there's an ongoing discussion to whom does the throne goes once the Emperor passes over without having an heir born, the Imperial family's 1500 years of preservation of bloodline has been considered the oldest continuous hereditary monarchy globally. The number of the Imperial family members has dwindled. At this rate if something happens to His Majesty, it would spark a chaos.

Unable to sleep, I got up my bed 3:39 in the ungodly hours of morning and went out my balcony looking over the dark skies and still bright buildings, I sit on the rattan chair and shivered from the cold winds.

What if I tell Gojo the truth about his surgery years ago? Would he finally let me free from all this complexity in exchange for saving his life? But if he finds out what I have done for my selfishness I don't think he'll forgive me. I don't 'want to drag my family in the mess I made out of impulsiveness years ago.

No doubt this is my karma for running away from my responsibility.

But if I keep worrying about this all the time while I face Gojo, I will make a mistake with my impulsiveness. I need to grow my spine and get myself together. Since he doesn't know anything then let it be. Thinking rationally it's the best choice.

Once we cleared off this farce of an engagement. I get to have my freedom and my future family will be safe. Gojo is off with his lover. Even if he betrays me there's the Emperor, and if they both take advantage of me I have the contract, or if they turn against me then I will play dirty.

Thinking about this makes my insomnia painful.

Nothing else to do I opt to take a hot shower and changed to a loose gray V-neck sweater, black pants and white Converse. I need comfortable clothes if we're going to travel to the Emperor's villa. I already prepared my medical bag to be carried later just in case.

6 am, the delivery girl from Shiro nii-san's restaurant called from the foyer to deliver my food and I asked it to be sent in my doorsteps. I arranged the food on the table and got myself a coffee and waited for Gojo.

My phone ringed with Shoko on the caller's ID.

"Mornin'"

"Morning Shin, Suguru asked me to call if Satoru's in your place."

Since when did I became a lost and found for that guy? The moment a woman come calling for me looking for him I swear I will throw him out.

"Yeah, why?" I cleared my throat hearing a whistling and Suguru-san laughing on the background. "And no we didn't do anything unless watching a film with the people getting their organs ripped open considered a date."

"Geez Shina, just how dark your humor could get," Shoko reciprocated and passed the phone to Suguru-san who politely greeted me, a smile still heard on his voice.

"Shina-san could you tell the cat the chopper is ready but the pilot got sick," by 'cat' that's Gojo right?

Thinking about it... He is a CAT, his temper is as temperamental and not to mention his white hair fits his blue eyes like one of those Persian high-maintenance felines.

He would never get along with my koi fishes.

"I will Suguru-san thanks," I chuckled and ended the call.

From the side I saw Gojo come down already changed in a white turtle neck and black overcoat, gloves present as always and there's that intoxicating smell of sandalwood clinging to him as he walk past me and start eating.

"Suguru-san told me your pilot fell sick."

"Sure," he nod and ignored me again until we finished eating. I grab my thicker jacket when he said it'll be cold in our destination and I loaded my medical bag in his car.

"I already packed your bag, Yuta will come pick it up later." we entered his flashy white Corvette and drove out of the basement to the busy road.

"We haven't reviewed the contract yet," I reminded him and Gojo shrug stepping on the gas and swerve past the red lights, cutting the 15 minutes’ drive to an 6 minutes.

"I'll sign it, no need to frown." In a minute we arrived back in the Tower.

Yuta's blank face lit up when we got off the car and greeted us a polite good morning. He briefed Satoru today's meetings but he dismissed him and cancelled the rest of his day.

"You should tell them he got LBM," I added when we got in the private elevator. The uncle-nephew look at me with a weird look and Yuta awkwardly look to his Uncle asking for confirmation.

"No one questions me," Gojo shot me deadpan look.

"I questioned you countless of times already." I shrug.

"That's a different story," he scoffed and the door opened leading to the rooftop where a a helicopter is waiting.

"Who's going to pilot this guy?" I froze when I got inside, the inside is sleek and clean with all the buttons and small levers. I slip in the seat belt and adjusted it on my body and buckled up, settling my medical bag on my lap.

Gojo look at me and smirked, climbing in to the other side and put on his headphones, he nudge the other headphone to me. Reluctantly I accepted and adjusted it to my ear. Gojo nod at Yuta who moved away and the man before me started pushing on the buttons.

"Please tell me you have a license to fly this metal," I prayed under my breath. Damn it! I shouldn't have eaten breakfast if I knew he's the one flying this, his driving earlier was a red flag already.

Gojo chuckled and told me we're flying. My body went rigid feeling us levitate from ground. My toes curled inside my sneakers and shut my eyes hoping this would just get over, we haven't even left the city but I'm already dreading we have to do this back home.

I tried opening my left eyes and shut it back seeing the buildings underneath us. This is just damn different from riding a jet! Heck how long more?

"Your space will be the 43rd floor of the Tower, the public elevator works until the 41st floor. When you go up always use the private one," Gojo spoke.

"Yeah." I nod.

"What did you spray in the room last night?"

Spray?

"Chocolate room spray."

"Oh yeah, I forgot to ask last night. Why do you work in two hospitals? Shoko told me you work Monday to Wednesday in Tokyo and Thursday to Saturday in Fukouka? You short in funds?"

"My main job is in Tokyo, I'm a visiting doctor in Fukouka."

"Don't you think you're overworking yourself? Two jobs. No wonder you're so thin."

I didn't answer. I feel uneasy if I stay put. But it is tiring... Both mentally and physically.

"We're here," he announced and slowly we descended on a marble white mansion on atop a hill. The clearing where the helipad connects to the beautiful villa hidden by tall trees and lush forest. "Good job on holding out," he pat my shoulders and smiled.

Eh? What was that about?

"Don't wander on the woods," Gojo told me and took off his earphones opening his side of door while I took off mine and went down. I stare at the majestic house.

"Gojo," A woman called out to us. Gojo approach her with a wide grin and probably said something nasty considering the glare the woman shot him. She noticed me and immediately walk to my direction.

She's beautiful, black hair with bangs secured by a ribbon behind, wearing a suit and heels cackling against the pavement. An aura of professionalism with how she carries herself.

"I am His Majesty's attendant, my name is Iori Utahime, my pleasure to finally meet you Doctor Yotsuba." She smiled and extended her hand. "Gojo has been constantly telling me about you," she added with a sigh.

I went frigid at her words, unable to accept her hand and look at her again. Her brown eyes bore at me and smiled again.

"Yotsuba Shina, the pleasure is mine. Can you take me to the Emperor and prepare the clinic?" hesitantly I accepted her hand, shaking it two times and immediately let go.

Is she the one? I look over Gojo who just stared at us with a nonchalant look.

"Uh, of course Doctor this way," she leaded me. The bodyguards greeted us and Iori-san brief us about the location of rooms I will need.

"Don't mind Utahime, she's just way too stiff," Gojo solicited along the way and Utahime shot him a dirty look stopping on an oak door.

They're close, he's even calling her by first name. He did mention his girlfriend doesn't mind much because she understands him. If I piece it together with how adequate Iori-san treat me and hearing Gojo has been telling her about me, it's not farfetched she's the one he's talking about. If that's the case I don't think I could swallow eating around the both of them. What is this some kind of drama?

"Doctor Yotsuba, His Majesty is waiting for you inside, please," She opened the door and ushered me inside.

This is real huh? The Emperor is inside. The door opened and I look on the other side.

There's a thick glass separating the large room in half, a man sitting on the bed leaning on the headboard turn to me with a weak smile. His eyes tired and body that could break under the duvet. He beckoned me inside with a weak hand but elegant temper.

His frail raspy voice resounded from the intercom on the other side.

"You finally came Doctor Shina. I've been waiting for you."

This man is the Emperor. Instinctively I bowed in respect.

"Greetings Your Imperial Highness, Tengen-heika."

For some reason the Emperor is isolated from us by this clear glass wall and my heart hurts seeing him like this for the first time.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist & 4L&5S Series Masterlist for more.

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned, image(s) and song(s) used belong to their respective owner(s).

4L&5S Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @wobblewobble822 @descargueestoporgojosatoru @dlb113

|| Chapter 6 ||

[chaosangel767]

Day 2: Lover’s Reprise

Another fic for @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady​ beautiful event. NGL this idea has been hanging out in my WIPs folder for about a year, I just wasn’t sure how to finish it or when to post it. 

Fandom: IkeRev 

Pairing: Luka x F!MC  

Prompt: Different universe, same love Day 2: Person of the arts AU & Day 3: Soulmates AU 

Type: Fluff, first kiss, soulmate au 

WC:985

Tagging: @thewitchofbooks, @psychoangelinmydreams, @ikesimp100, @queen-dahlia, @canaria-blackwell, @citizensofcradle, @devildomwritersposts, @ikehoe, @littlewitty, @curious-skybunny, @kpop-and-otome​, @aquagirl1978,@kissmetwicekissmedeadly, @lordsisterxotome, @tele86, @sarahann-1984 -If your name is crossed out I was unable to tag you. If you want to be tagged/untagged please let me know or fill out this form here.  

“It has been years since I have played.” You try to explain to the officers, a flush crossing your cheeks. Three eager sets of eyes watch you, and you look down at the case in your hands. 

“Please, I bet your music is beautiful” Fenrir encourages, leaning forward to take the flute case in your hand. Looking down you feel torn, your fingers tracing the outline of the flute. 

“I don’t remember how” You lie, resisting the urge to curl your hands into the very positions you claim to forget. 

“Maybe it will come back to you if you try” Seth encourages, his hand delicately touches your wrist. “We won’t pressure you, but we would really like it if you played for us.” He encourages, his smile contagious and you look back up to the eyes. Seth and Fenrir are both watching you with contagious and hopeful grins. Ray has a calm smile on his face, but even he is leaning forward in his seat, fingers gripping his glass just a little tighter. There is no one else in the lounge and you can hear Sirius and Luka milling about the kitchen. 

“Alright, let me see what I remember” You give in, the encouraging smiles breaking down. Gently opening the case, you piece the flute together, fingers quickly finding the keys. Running through a set of scales, you manage to tune the flute by ear, twisting the  head of it until it sounds just right. 

Shutting your eyes, you block out all distractions, searching your mind for a piece to play, only one melody seems to fit the mood. Starting the first notes, the familiar tune floats through your mind, your fingers remembering each note like it was engraved into your skin, the tune, the tempo, the memories. You tilt your head up, opening your eyes to look at the moon in the sky. 

The last notes of the melody fade through the lounge and you finally open your eyes, looking at the three men with uncertainty. Awe and adoration fill the eyes of the officers around you and a shy smile breaks through your face. 

“Alice! That was so beautiful!” Seth exclaims, and Fenrir and Ray are quick to agree. 

“That was stunning little Lady” Sirius’s voice appears behind you, startling ou as you turn to see Sirius in the doorway. “What did you think Luka?” Turning to his companion, Luka looks up for a moment with a conflicted expression. 

“Yeah, it was pretty” He shortly replies, turning back to the kitchen. A flicker of hurt races through you and you pause. 

“Don’t mind him, I don’t think he meant any harm” Ray tries to cheer you up, before asking you to play again. The night is full of praise and applause as you remember as many pieces as possible.  The days go by and you occasionally hear a violin play, the notes familiar to your heart, but you are unable to find the source of the music. A few days later, you are out in the courtyard playing, when a voice startles you out of your playing. 

“It’s you” Luka speaks softly and you tilt your head, barely able to hear him above the breeze. His scarf covers his face, and you have trouble distinguishing his meaning. 

“What are you talking about?” You ask and his hand reaches out, lightly grabbing your wrist and tugging you to the garden. Motioning for you to sit down in a chair, he pulls out a violin. 

“Just listen” his voice is firm before he pulls the violin to his shoulder, his bow poised to play. Tilting your head, the notes catch you by surprise. The melody that comes for the violin teleports you back to when you were a teen, the duet in your head.  You are entranced, watching the moonlight hit his violin, the way the light shimmers against the string. The goosebumps that flood your skin at the notes. The harmony, the slight crescendo when your flute used to join in. It all floods through your heart again. When the melody fades, neither of  you speak.  Glancing up into the amber eyes, you finally break the silence. 

“How? How do you know that melody?” Stepping to him, you are close enough to see the flush on his cheeks, the way his eyes tremble with an emotion you can’t quite read, like he was lost in a memory.

“I used to hear it played, it would play on a flute at night, and eventually I wanted to play with it” He simply responds. 

“But we are from two different worlds” The harsh reality hurts to say, but the pieces of the puzzle aren’t quite fitting together. Luka reaches for you, his movement almost subconscious, his hand touches yours as he admires your fingers. Trying to search through your memories you look for any explanation as to why he knows the song you play. Why you used to hear a violin in your head. 

“There is an old legend that soulmates in Cradle can hear each other play music. It is so rare now though that most no longer play instruments”

  Blanc had told you about the soulmate legend when you had watched Luka play his violin a few nights before. 

“Luka-” you hesitate to ask, your brows furrowing in confusion. Closing the distance to you, Luka tips your chin up, heat floods your veins at his touch. His lips draw nearer, and you can’t help but close the distance, the feeling of his lips on yours is heavenly. The melody resounds in your head, and your heart feels like it is about to burst with love and joy. 

Heat floods your face as the kiss breaks, Luka’s cheeks reflecting the red of your own. He pulls your flute case from nearby, and the two of you exchange a look, before playing the duet one more time, together. 

[jeongvision]

pairing. boyfriend! dong sicheng ✗ fem! reader

genre. fluff, humor, airport au, non idol au, established relationship au

warnings. slight cursing, mentions of alcohol, not proofread so expect grammatical mistakes lmao my bad

author’s note. this timestamp has been inspired by a fic called maison des fleurs (jeong jaehyun x oc) written by loviet from asianfanfics!

[ 5:14 AM ] You’re tired, so dead tired. If you weren’t tired before, then you are most definitely exhausted now.

For weeks, you and your boyfriend have been planning on taking a short trip to Greece as a mini getaway way to celebrate the end of your spring semester. You both thought it would be nice to destress after months of restless nights with your eyes glued on both your textbook pages or laptop screen. The moment you both finished your last final, you two booked the next flight out and packed your belongings.

What perfect way to celebrate the end of your hellish semester by spending time with your loved one traveling to a different country?

Unfortunately, life seems to love throwing curve balls at you, because here are you at the airport, sitting on one of those uncomfortable chairs at the terminal gate, three hours past your initial departure time. Weather reports called for harsh winds and rain, making it extremely dangerous for any aircraft to fly in this state due to turbulence. Meteorologists predicted that it will subside within another three hours but even then, it’s not a guarantee that it will stop storming by then.

Just your fucking luck, huh?

You and Sicheng are currently sitting in the terminal gate amongst all other passengers, impatiently groaning as the minutes pass by. You rested your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder, the soft padding of his jacket cushioning your cheek. You inhaled in his scent, putting your mind at ease as you wallowed up the lost time you could’ve used to explore other regions of Greece. You two already walked to nearby shops and food stands to kill time but it still gave you ample amount of time to spare. The both of you thought maybe social media or mobile games could assist in your boredoms but their attempts were futile.

You let out a deep sigh. “This sucks.”

“I agree,” Sicheng nodded. He repositions himself in his seat to ease the tension from your neck craning on him, arms draped behind your shoulders as he pulls you in more. “Have anything in mind?”

You scoffed. “Yeah. Get the hell out of here and go to Greece already.”

He chuckled. “Patience, little one.”

“If I had one, then I’d be a doctor.”

“Gotta wait for another eight years to become one, y/n. You still haven’t finished your undergrad yet.” You rolled your eyes and let out a chortle, playfully slapping his arm in response. He laughs again while his arm still remained around your figure. And just like that, you’re both enveloped in silence, eyes constantly checking the clock and the windows for any possible signs of hopping onto the plane as you two scheduled.

Minutes rolled by and you’ve lost count on how many sighs you heard from nearby passengers. Then, you felt your boyfriend clear his throat a little.

“Let’s play a game, hm?”

Confused, you took your head off his shoulder and narrowed your eyes at him. “Huh? A game?” He nods, his hand gently tightening on your arm. “What game are you thinking about?”

A grin appears on his lips. “Two truths and a lie.”

Suddenly, you burst into a fit of giggles. It was one of your favorite games to play with him, given how it was the main reason why you two are together in the first place. You two were sat in a circle with other mutual friends at one college party, also playing two truths and a lie with an addition of alcohol. It was Winwin’s turn when he inadvertently confessed to you tipsy, eyes glazed over at you as you were dressed so beautifully that night.

You nodded towards the latter, “Shoot.”

He pondered in his thoughts, weighing out his possible choices. He hums a little under is breath. “One, I accidentally stepped on Bella’s poop earlier before we left to the airport. Two, I got a 36 on my practical for anatomy. Three, I managed to get Ten to eat a grape last week.”

It doesn’t take you a second for a smile to slowly creep up on your face. “I highly doubt that you could make Ten eat a fruit.”

“What makes you say that?” he challenged.

“He’d rather get a tattoo of Johnny’s face on his asscheeks than eat a slice of apple.”

“Are you saying that I’m too dumb to pass my practical?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you failed it. And same goes for Bella’s poop situation.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Fair enough. Your turn.”

You giggled before pondering in your own thoughts for a moment. “Hm... One, all I ate during finals week were instant noodles and Jollibee. Two, I can tell which eggs have a double yolk inside without cracking it open. Three, if you never confessed to me drunk that night, I would be dating Lucas right now.”

He gawks at you, “What?! So you would’ve never dated me if I never said anything that time?”

Teasingly, you raised an eyebrow. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“I ain’t calling you a truther.”

You grinned in response. “Nope. Unlike you, he was actually courting me.” You give him a glance over. “Meanwhile, your lazy ass thought that by just staring at me from afar, I would somehow get telekinesis and catch the hint that you liked me.”

He ignores your comment. “I think you give yourself too much credit for calling yourself some kind of egg analyst.”

You slap his shoulder again, earning a chuckle from him. “Do not!”

“Just because you coincidentally cracked an egg with a double yolk inside does not make you an egg expert.”

“You mean, eggs-pert?”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, babe.” He rolled his eyes and you laughed. “Okay, this is getting fun. Let’s keep going! Your turn.”

He takes another moment and relays his choices, a subtle pout on his lips before he grins. “Okay, I think I got one,” he begins. “One, I’ve always had a crush on you since freshman orientation. Two, Yuta actually pushed me to play two truths and a lie that night because you were also playing. Three, I want us to move in together after we graduate.”

You stayed immobile in your seat, eyebrows lifted in shock. Your eyes are wide open, mind completely wiped blank from his words. You nervously laugh, breaking the silence. “Winwin, I don’t think that’s how you play the game.”

He chuckles. “It’s not about the lies you tell, but the truths you tell.”

Your fingers twiddled with one another as you looked away from his gaze, eyes down on your lap. “But still. You’re supposed to say two truths and one lie, not three truths.”

He grins. “Bold of you to assume I didn’t say any lie.”

“Well, then I say the third one is the lie.”

“Where I want us to move in together?”

You look back up. “Yeah.”

“You’re right. In fact...” His face inches closer to yours, his forehead making contact with your own. “... I don’t want us to move in together when we graduate.” He pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I want us to get married instead.”

Your eyes widened. “W-What?” He only grins at you. “Si-Sicheng, what—”

“Attention, passengers!” the ground attendant shouted. “Gate 486 is now open for boarding. Please form a line and have your ticket ready for admission.”

Your lover backs away from your presence, grabbing his bag before standing up from his seat. He nods to the terminal gate. “You heard her. Let’s go. Don’t want to miss our flight.”

Oh, but darling, how could you miss your flight when you’re already floating on cloud nine from his words?

[ppangjae]

THE STORY UNTOLD | Jaehyun

SEVEN LETTERS | THE STORY UNTOLD

SUMMARY. Jaehyun finds himself catching feelings for you, his best friend. But the problem is that he’s in a relationship with someone else. In hopes of receiving a sign, the last sign he expects to receive is a letter. A letter from his future self. 

GENRE. soulmate!au | childhood friends to lovers!au | fluff | angst

WORD COUNT. 6.6k+ words

author’s note. BEFORE you read this, i strongly suggest you read Seven Letters. this is a sequel to that fic. if you haven’t read Seven Letters, you’re probably going to get really confused when you read this sequel. also, i just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who read Seven Letters. the amount of feedback i got is just so overwhelming and i never expected things to turn out like this omg. happy reading!

—Future

This is impossible.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

Johnny frowns. “Like that.”

Jaehyun lets out a scoff. Johnny lets out a soft snort, shaking his head at his best friend who’s sitting across from his desk. Johnny adjusts his glasses before clasping his hands on the table. “Do you not believe me or something?”

“This feels stupid. No, this is stupid.” Jaehyun mutters, gesturing at the blank piece of paper on the desk. “You want me to write a letter to my past self? About what?”

“You do know that I charge my patients an extra fifty bucks for every half hour past their scheduled appointment time.” Johnny reminds me. “If I were you, save your fifty bucks and start writing your letter.”

“Stop lying, you don’t do that.” Jaehyun scoffs again. “What is a stupid letter to my past self gonna do? Change my future?”

Johnny points at him. “Bingo.”

“And you expect me to believe you?”

“Why don’t you just try it? Besides, if it doesn’t change your future, at least you did yourself some self-counselling. Closure. Don’t you want closure?” Johnny folds his arms. He has a point. “As your best friend, I care about you. But I’m tired of having you come here for counselling sessions.”

“You’re not helping—”

“Just give a try! God, you make me want to pull my hair off my scalp and I’m already losing hair from all the stress you’ve been giving me since your divorce.”

—Present

“Jaehyun, you have mail!”

His mother is waving an envelope in the air just as he steps out on the front porch. He squints his eyes at the envelope with suspicion. “Who sends letters these days? We live in a world where technology is evolving—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just take your mail, Jaehyun.” His mother disregards his ramble by placing the envelope into his hands. “Your father wants us to make a trip to the grocery store. Do you want us to get you something?”

“I’m good,” he replies. He’s too busy staring at the familiar handwriting on the envelope. The strong familiarity bothers him. 

As his parents are hopping into the car and pulling out of the parkway, Jaehyun’s heading back inside of the house. He’s gently closing the door shut before making a beeline for the kitchen. He pulls out the kitchen scissors and cuts the envelope open.

“Why is this letter so thick?” He thinks aloud, pulling out a 10-page letter. “If this letter isn’t life changing and if I waste my time reading a thick ass letter, I might just combust—”

He stops mid-sentence when he finally realizes it. It’s his handwriting. He’s confused. Why would he send himself a letter? In fact, why would he send himself a 10-page letter when he can literally just type it all out in an email instead? He tilts his head in confusion. He decides to start reading it. 

To Jaehyun,

Don’t be alarmed. You recognize the handwriting, right? It’s because it is your handwriting. 

I am you from the future. 

You’re probably wondering how and why you’re getting this letter. Trust me, I’m not even sure if you’ll get this letter. But if you do, then damn, what the flipping fuck? 

Read this letter carefully because it will be a lot to take in. 

He lets out a laugh. Is he going crazy? Him from the future? Sending him a handwritten letter? For what? What kind of sick joke is this and who is pulling it? Who is the culprit? Oh right, it’s him from the future. 

I made the biggest mistake and I need you to fix it. 

Do you remember Y/N, your childhood best friend? Y/N is your soulmate. You are destined to be with her. As I write this letter to you, I have lost almost all forms of communication with Y/N. 

I made the biggest mistake of falling in love with someone else. I fell in love with someone who I am not destined to be with. I married this person and have been married to her for three years. We had just filed for a divorce a month ago. 

His eyebrows knit together in confusion. His future self must have fucked up that bad that he resorted into writing a letter to his past self. But why? 

I don’t want you to experience what I went through, past Jaehyun. I don’t want you to lose Y/N. I’m sure you don’t want to lose Y/N either. Y/N is everything you could ever want. 

He’s almost done reading the first page of the letter before carelessly shoving the letter back into its envelope. He’s rushing out the door with his car keys. He’s literally running out the door in nothing but a pair of sweats, a hoodie, and his infamous pink house slippers. There’s only one thing on his mind right now.

Here are three things I need you to remember:

The moment you realize you’re in love with Y/N, you must tell her before it’s too late. 

Y/N will be moving out when you get this letter. Y/N will be moving into another city and won’t tell you. 

Y/N’s going to board the train at 4pm. You must get to her before then if you plan on confessing to her. 

It’s funny how all it takes is one sketchy letter from what claims to be his future self to make him realize the truth; he’s in love with you.

Those feelings you have for Y/N? Yes, they are true and sincere. Y/N has been in love with you for the longest time. It was my biggest mistake of thinking it was a joke and letting her become the one that got away. 

—Future

Jaehyun puts his pen down onto the table and picks up his cup of coffee. He can already imagine his past self cussing him out for making the letter too long. But he made sure that he stated the most important points on the first page of the letter. 

There are many things that he regrets doing. He hopes that his past self will make things right.

“Where are you, Y/N?” He thinks out loud as he looks out the window. 

It’s the first snowfall of the winter season. There are couples scattered down the sidewalks, enjoying and taking advantage of this romantic day. He can’t help but remember the first snowfall that changed the way he saw you. He remembers it like it was just yesterday.

He picks up his pen and continues to write his letter.

If you get to Y/N on time, tell her that you love her. I wish I told her.

I regret not telling her.

You’re probably wondering why the fuck is this letter so long? But trust the process. I’ll tell you all of the things I regret doing in this letter because it’s the only way to give myself closure. 

I caught feelings for Y/N on the night of Christmas Eve. In fact, I was probably already in love with her before that. But on the night of Christmas Eve, that’s when I realized that I was in love with her and that she wasn’t just a best friend.

He sucks in a deep breath and places the pen back down onto the table. He shuts his eyes and remembers that night.

“Y/N!” 

You’re standing right in front of him, snowflakes slowly falling from the sky and landing on the top of your head. He feels warm with his thick scarf wrapped around his neck, but your presence makes him feel much more warmer; like home.

“Jaehyun!” 

You finally spot him when you hear his voice. He feels overjoyed. He feels like he’s floating among the stars that scatter across the sky. This is the first time he’s felt this way in weeks. Heck, probably months.

He stops to look up at the sky. “It’s snowing!”

“The first snowfall of the season.” You add, letting out a soft giggle. “Long time no see, dork.”

He remembers looking at you in awe. Your hair had grown longer and you had matured. The snowflakes that fall from the sky make you stand out more. You’re smiling at him so wide that your eyes form into beautiful crescents. He remembers feeling his heart stop. He remembers wondering why he always felt this way whenever he was with you.

“Do you know what the first snowfall of the season means?”

“First snowfall means first love. It also means that the person you’re with on the first snowfall of the season will be the love of your life.”

“Do you believe in it?” You let out a lighthearted chuckle. “If you do, then that means I’m the love of your life.”

“Why? Are you in love with me or something?” He chuckles as he makes the joke.

He swore he saw your smile falter. He swore he saw you look taken aback. He swore he saw you look serious for a split second before mustering up a fake smile and saying—

“Me? In love with you? No, you’re my best friend!” 

“You’re joking. Stop joking around, Y/N. Are you in love with me?” He asks for reassurance.

You shake your head. He swore he felt his heart shatter. He swore he felt disappointed. He swore he felt heartbroken hearing you tell him that you weren’t in love with him.

Because he’s in love with you.

He’s caught feelings for you.

“I see you as my best friend, Jaehyun. Nothing more and nothing less.”

But who would’ve thought that it would be a lie?

—Present

He hopes he’s not too late. He hopes he’s not too late. He hopes he’s not too late—

If you get to Y/N on time, tell her that you love her. I wish I told her.

I regret not telling her.

Don’t be a hopeless fool like me.

You’ll regret it. Ever since I married someone else, all I’ve ever done was reminisce and regret.

I hope you get to her on time. You must get to her on time. Or else you’ll be a little too late… again.

She’ll be waiting. In fact, all she’s done was wait for the perfect time and moment.

“Y/N!”

He spots you sitting on the waiting bench. You’re holding what seems like a letter. You’re shoving the letter into your pocket. He starts jogging up to you after running across the entire parking lot. He even bought himself a train ticket just to get inside the station to find you. 

And he’s glad he did.

“Jaehyun?”

He’s rushing over to you. He watches you stand up to greet him until he crashes you into a tight embrace. He shifts all of his weight on you as you stand there, completely caught off guard. “Jaehyun, what are you doing here?”

He pulls away from the hug. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? What are you doing here?”

You look up at him with a confused look. “I—I got hired at a company out of town. I moved out. I’m moving into an apartment in another city—”

The letter from his future self was right. You’re moving out of town for your job. You’re moving out and you didn’t tell him. The letter was right. What kind of magic is this? 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He frowns.

“I figured it would be best not to tell you because I knew that you would hold me back. And if you held me back, I don’t think I’d ever move out.”

“But you should’ve told me. I came over to take you out for lunch only to find out that you’re moving out of town and into a new city. Do you know how sad I felt?”

“I’m sorry—”

“And then I started wondering why you didn’t tell me about this. I started to wonder if I did something wrong. I couldn’t think straight. I drove all the way here in hopes that I don’t miss you and that I catch you right before you ride.” He finds himself rambling. “If I didn’t catch you on time, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“Jaehyun—”

Before you go to the train station, I want you to break up with Yeona— “I broke up with Yeona.”

Y/N will probably get mad at you for it. “What?! Why would you do that?!”

He looks at you for a brief moment. You are mad. A laugh of disbelief threatens to escape his lips. 

“Why did you break up with her? She’s in love with you, Jaehyun! You’re supposed to propose to her—”

Tell her that you’re in love with her. Because you are. I was a stupid fool for not believing that my feelings for her were true and real. Don’t be like me. 

“Because I’m in love with you.”

“Huh?”

“I’m in love with you.” He lets out a nervous laugh as he repeats it for you.

When you tell her that you’re in love with her, it’ll be the most simplest thing to do. When it comes out of your mouth, it will sound right. It will sound like you’re meant to tell her that you’re in love with her, because you are.

“You’re in love with me?”

His future self is right. He’s completely surprised at how perfect and easy it felt to tell you his feelings for you. It was like he was destined to tell you. Loving you sure is easy.

“I’m in love with you, stupid.”

You blink up at him. “Jaehyun, you’re not making any sense right now. It was just weeks ago when you asked me if I should ask Yeona to marry you. It was just weeks ago when you told me that you missed her a lot. It was just weeks ago when you thought my confession was a joke—”

I want you to tell her that you’ve been in love with her since the night of Christmas Eve.

“On Christmas Eve, I picked you up. Yeona and I were going through a rough time in our relationship and I was starting to question if we were meant to be together. I asked and begged for a sign.”

“A sign?”

“The first snowfall. You and I were together on the night of Christmas Eve, where we both witnessed the first snowfall. You asked me if I knew what it meant,” he explains. “I thought ‘Is this the sign I’ve been looking for?’ and then I joked around asking if you were in love with me, not expecting you to say yes. And you did. I couldn’t believe it.”

“Jaehyun—”

“And that summer where you didn’t come up to the cottage. I felt lonely even though I was with Yeona. Things just didn’t feel the same.” He lets out a shaky laugh. “Everything started to remind me of you. I just knew Yeona was annoyed about it. I kept talking about how this and that reminded me of you. It was all starting to make sense.”

“But you still had thoughts about asking her to marry you.” You say and he shakes his head.

If she tries to test you by saying that you were contemplating on proposing to Yeona, I want you to say this— “I asked you for your opinion on it because I couldn’t trust my own decision. I wanted to see if you would say no. A part of me was begging you to say no.” He tells you the truth. He really was hoping you to say no. “But you told me that you love me and that your confession wasn’t a joke. That’s when I knew.”

“So,” you mumble. “You’re in love with me?”

“I confessed my feelings for you three times already.”

“But I want to hear it again—”

“The train is arriving in two minutes. The train is arriving in two minutes.” The speaker announces. The two of you look at each other.”

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.” He confesses again. He can say it as many times as he wants, and it will still feel true and it will still be sincere. “But do you really have to leave me here?”

“I’m in love with you too, Jaehyun.” No matter how many times you’ve already told him that, it always feels like it’s his first time hearing it. He can hear it over and over again and he will still feel like the only man in the entire universe. “And yes, I have to go, Jaehyun. I can’t keep taking the train everyday to work.”

“Can I move in with you, then?”

“Not until you give me a kiss first—”

“How about I marry you instead?”

If you both end up together, which I know you will, 

I will finally get the closure that I needed.

—Future

He looks up from his phone to stare up at a building. He looks back down at his phone to make sure that he’s at the right address. As he confirms the address, he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

“Y/N?”

He spots a familiar figure exiting the building of the company that you work at. The figure is walking away and down the sidewalk. He finds himself following the familiar person, trying to catch up to them. Once he finally does, he taps on their shoulder. They turn around and it’s not you.

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else.” He apologizes.

“Oh!” The woman exclaims. “You’re Jeong Jaehyun, right?”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “You know who I am?”

She nods her head. “You’re Y/N’s best friend, right?”

That’s odd. How does she know who he is— “Yes. Do you know her?”

She smiles. “I’m sure you’ve known of me. We were roommates in college. Do you happen to remember that infamous cookie recipe—”

“Holy shit.” That’s all he utters out. “Those cookies are fucking delicious but—how—you guys work together?”

“I see her on the daily and we’re kind of tired of seeing each other. Honestly, we both thought we’d never see each other again after university. But here we are,” she chuckles, extending her hand out. “I’m Sunghwa, by the way.”

He shakes her hand. “Nice meeting you.”

She tilts her head. “Are you looking for her?”

He slowly nods his head. “Well, actually, we left on really bad terms—”

“I know. I kind of hate you for that.” She cuts him off while shrugging her shoulders. “But what can we do, right? Unless you have the power to change the past, there’s not much we can do. But I do believe in fixing things for the future.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Save that for Y/N.” She smiles. “Y/N took two days off from work. She’s probably in her apartment getting some rest. The company had just finished its merge with another company and ever since then, she hasn’t gotten any rest.”

“Do you know where she lives?” He asks.

“I do. I’ll give you her address,” she replies. “But promise me one thing.”

“I’ll do anything—”

“Don’t tell her that I gave you her address. She’ll kill me.”

“You’re already wilting? I just got you yesterday!”

You stare at the vase of roses sitting on your dining table. There are a couple of petals that have fallen off and a few of them have wilted. You frown, taking a few of them, along with the petals, to dry them and add them to your letters.

Sitting on one end of your dining table is your last letter to your past self. You glance at it. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, diverting your thoughts from the letter. “Hello?”

“How are you, honey?” You hear your mother’s soothing voice on the other line. “Have you run out of groceries? Is your fridge full? I hope it is. If anything, your father and I can drop by the grocery store before visiting you on Friday—”

“You don’t need to, mother.” You chuckle. “I just came home from the grocery store. Hey, do you know how to stop flowers from wilting so fast?”

You can hear her frown. “Have the roses wilted already?”

“Yeah, and I just got them yesterday.” You sigh. “It’s okay. I’ll just make another stop by the flower shop to get a new bouquet.”

“Have you been eating your meals?”

You smile. “Yes, mother. In fact, I’m going to be meeting someone tonight.”

“Is it a boy?” 

You snort. “No.”

“Do I know them?”

“I’m meeting Yeona tonight.” You say softly. “We’re going to have dinner at a restaurant that opened up down the road. I’m not sure how it’ll go but—”

“Are you sure you want to go? You don’t have to meet her if you don’t want to.” She cuts you off. 

You purse your lips into a tight line. “I asked her if we could meet. I’m surprised she said yes, to be honest.”

“You know, when your father and I heard the news about their divorce, we weren’t sure how to react.” Your mother begins. “But Jaehyun’s parents didn’t seem to mind. In fact, when we paid them a visit, they seemed more… relieved?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Relieved?”

“It was like a weight was lifted off their shoulders.” Your mother explains. “Ever since they got married, there was never a peaceful day between the two.”

You frown. “Ah, I see.”

She notices your sudden quietness. “Are you perhaps… still in love with Jaehyun?”

You let out a lighthearted chuckle. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

“You know, you should try to get in touch with Jaehyun, sweetheart. You’re his only best friend. I’m sure whatever tension you have between the two of you would go away the moment you see each other.”

You sigh. “It’s easy to say but hard to do, mother.”

“I know, I understand.” She says softly. “Have you sent out your letters?”

You laugh, looking at your last letter sitting on your dining table.

“I’m actually sending out my last one on my way out.”

—Present

He runs his fingers through your hair as you’re sleeping peacefully next to him. You had a rough day at work and the moment you came home, you knocked out on the bed. Jaehyun took this opportunity to finish reading the letter he received from his future self.

I’m sure you’re wondering what happened between Y/N and I. Now, sit tight because this will be a long one.

On July 31st, I asked Y/N to go to the beach. I asked her because I knew that Yeona would be going to the beach that day. I figured it was a great opportunity to try and make Yeona jealous, and maybe get to know her more. And we did. 

But something felt off.

I remember Y/N asking me if we could go to the town fair instead. The town fair was only open for a week. But I was persistent on going to the beach instead. I wish we went to the town fair instead. 

Ever since I lost contact with Y/N and ever since she moved out of town, she stopped going up to the cottage for the summer. Those summers have been lonely. Whenever I go up to the cottage for the summer, the town fair would immediately remind me of her and how much I regret not taking her to the fair instead. 

Jaehyun’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He looks at his phone to check the new text notification, only to take notice of his phone’s lock screen. It’s a picture he took of you when the both of you rode the Ferris Wheel. 

“Y/N—” 

“Yeah?” He takes a quick candid photo of you.

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

“Yes, I did. I think it’ll be a good picture to use for your Tinder or something. I’ll send it to you.”

“Why, you little—”

“Sent it!”

He looks up from his phone to see you looking down at yours. You’re busy muttering underneath your breath over how he took the worst angle of your face. A smile threatens to form across his lips. He sets it as his lock screen.

On August 14th, Yeona and her parents came over for dinner. I was so in love with Yeona that I decided to tell her the truth. I told her that Y/N and I weren’t dating and it was all just an act. At the time, I was so happy to see the look of relief of Yeona’s face. That night, she confessed to me. She told me that she was in love with me and that she’s glad that Y/N and I weren’t dating.

But believe me when I say this, her confession didn’t feel special. I remember feeling shocked. I remember wondering, is this how I’m supposed to feel when someone reciprocates your feelings? I remember asking myself, shouldn’t I feel happy right now?

But my thoughts were interrupted when Yeona pulled me in for a kiss. I was surprised. I was caught off guard. Y/N suddenly walked out on the porch and saw us kissing. 

That night, I officially asked Yeona out. But on that same night, I remember walking past Y/N’s room to hear her crying.

I felt horrible. I felt bad. 

On Christmas Eve, Y/N’s arrival time was delayed by an hour. I remember being so excited to see her after months of talking to each other through a laptop screen. I remember being so excited that the moment her father announced that Y/N would be arriving late, I insisted on picking her up instead.

I’m glad I did.

Around that time, Yeona and I were going through a tough time in our relationship. It seemed like she was falling out of love with me. She was posting more photos of her and her guy friend on her account. Our video calls were becoming less frequent. Our good morning and good night texts were becoming less frequent. I really thought that this was it, this was the end of it all. 

I was slowly catching feelings for Y/N. I think her absence really got to me. When Yeona and I passed on our usual video calls, I’d call Y/N instead and we’d talk for hours on end. She would even have a midterm the following day but still made the effort to talk to me. I was finding myself texting my usual good morning and good night texts to Y/N instead of Yeona. But now that I think about it, I think I’ve always been in love with Y/N.

I was just too stupid to realize it. 

I asked and begged for a sign. I was too blinded by love and I wanted a sign to tell me that being with Yeona was right. That fighting for our relationship was the right thing to do. That trying to mend our already broken relationship was the right thing to do.

When I picked Y/N up at the train station, it was the first snowfall of the season. We made a couple of jokes about the first snowfall that somehow led to me asking her if she was in love with me. She said she wasn’t in love with me. She continued to joke around.

I wondered, is this the sign I was looking for? I remember thinking, if this was the sign, then it’s pretty disappointing.

Because a part of me was hoping Y/N would say that she was in love with me.

—Future

“You came?”

Yeona came earlier than you. She’s sitting at the booth, greeting you as you take the seat right across from her. This feels awkward, you think to yourself as you take off your coat. Right on time, a waitress comes by your table to give you two glasses of wine.

“I hope I’m not late.” You say with a lighthearted chuckle.

She smiles. “I’m just a bit too early.”

“How are you?” You ask.

She takes a sip of her wine. “I’ve been doing better. How have you been?”

You smile. “Likewise.”

As the both of you are picking dishes to eat from the menu, you can feel her look at you every now and then. You’re not sure why she’s staring at you, but you pay no attention to it. As the waitress collects the menus and your orders, she leaves the two of you to talk.

“When you called me to ask if we could meet, I was quite surprised.” She chuckles. “I figured that I’d be the last person you’d want to see.”

You bite your lip. “To be honest with you, I’m surprised you came. I was sort of expecting you to bail out on me.”

The both of you share a chuckle. She looks out the window. It’s snowing. “Have you seen Jaehyun?”

You shake your head. “I haven’t gotten in touch with him for years. Ever since your wedding, actually.”

She tears her gaze away from the window, specifically from the snowflakes that fall from the sky. She looks at you, surprised. “Why not?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I guess I was just too busy with work. I mean, I still am, but—”

“You should, Y/N.” She places her hand on top of yours. 

You stare at her hand that’s on top of yours. There’s no longer a wedding ring on her fourth finger. It kind of throws you off. “I don’t think he’ll want to see me. I bet you didn’t even want to see me either—”

“When Jaehyun and I got divorced, I felt like I was finally setting him free.” She confesses. “I felt like something or someone was holding him back. I knew it was always you, Y/N.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Yeona. Jaehyun’s not in love with me—”

“First snowfall means first love. It means that the person you’re with on the first snowfall of the season will be the love of your life.” She cuts you off. You look at her with slightly widened eyes. “That’s what Jaehyun told me. He also told me that the first snowfall always reminds him of you.”

“Yeona, I’m not sure what to say.” You say with a breathy laugh.

“You didn’t attend our wedding.” She mumbles. “Jaehyun was looking for you the entire night. Even when reception was over, he was still looking for you. Let me remind you that I was the one he got married to. It felt weird, it felt heartbreaking, because although his bride was standing right beside him, he was still looking and waiting for someone else.”

“I didn’t attend your wedding because—”

“Because you’re in love with him.” She finishes it for you. “Y/N, I’m not stupid. I can see it with my own two eyes. You’re in love with him and he’s in love with you.”

“Shouldn’t you be mad at me?” You ask.

She shakes her head. “I wish I could be mad at you, but I’m not. Our divorce was mutual. We filed a divorce because I knew Jaehyun was in love with you, and he still is. But we also filed a divorce because I was slowly falling out of love with him and falling in love with someone else.”

“But I feel like this was all because of me—”

She smiles. “Don’t feel bad. If there’s someone who should feel bad, it should be me. I’ve been selfishly holding Jaehyun back for so long, for three years, from someone he should be with.”

You wipe away tears that have managed to stream down your cheeks. “I—”

“Can I ask you one favour?”

The waitress arrives with your dishes and places them onto the table. As the waitress leaves the two of you again, she reaches out to hold your hands.

You nod. “Sure.”

“Please get in touch with Jaehyun. I’m sure he’s looking for you.”

—Present

Jaehyun calls it a night, placing the letter back into its envelope before putting it back in a drawer. He turns off the night light and settles in bed, wrapping his arm around your waist. You snuggle closer to his chest, continuing to let out soft snores. Jaehyun smiles, using his other free hand to tuck a few stray strands of hair away from your face.

“Good night, Y/N.”

On August 8th, Y/N and I had a conversation at the bonfire. I wanted to test the waters again for the second time. I was so confused. My mind was in love with Yeona but my heart belonged to Y/N. I asked her if I should propose to Yeona.

She looked at me and asked me if I love her. I said that I love her. But she asked me if I love her with all my heart. It took me a while to answer, but eventually, I said that I love her with all of my heart.

Y/N simply smiled at me with a smile that didn’t look real. 

She said, if I love Yeona with all of my heart, then what was I waiting for?

I remember my heart answering her question with,

I’m waiting for you to stop me.

—Future

“Thanks for the ride, Yeona.”

She smiles. “No worries. Text me when you get home safely!”

And off Yeona goes. You watch her car get smaller and smaller as it grows farther. You let out a happy sigh, stepping inside of your apartment complex. You make a quick stop at the mailbox, placing your last letter to your past self into the slit. As you hop onto the elevator, you find yourself thinking back to your conversation with Yeona. 

Just as you step out of your elevator, you stop in your tracks. 

“Please get in touch with Jaehyun. I’m sure he’s looking for you.”

Sitting right in front of the door to your apartment is Jaehyun. He’s looking down at his phone. The closer you get to him, the more you realize that he’s playing a game on his phone. A smile threatens to spread across your lips.

“Excuse me, sir, but I think you’ve got the wrong apartment.”

Jaehyun recognizes the voice and his head shoots up. At first, he doesn’t recognize your face. You had definitely matured. You look like a grown woman. Your hair is long. He looks up at you in awe until he realizes how stupid he looks. He’s immediately getting up onto his two feet, but you stop him when you take a seat next to him on the carpet floor. 

“Y/N,” he breathes out. “Hi.”

You smile. “Hi.”

“I—Long time no see.” He stutters, scratching the back of his neck.

“How did you get my address?”

“Well, I got it from—”

“You got it from Sunghwa, didn’t you?” You cut him off with squinted eyes. He gulps nervously, nodding his head. You sigh. “God, I’m going to kill her for this.”

The both of you look at each other before bursting out into laughter. 

He bites his lip. “How—How have you been?”

You fold your arms. “I think I should be asking you that, Mr. Just Got Divorced.”

He chuckles. “I’ve been doing better. Actually, I think I’ll do even better now that I’ve seen you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really.” He sighs. He feels hesitant to ask you a question he’s been dying to ask you. He decides to take a leap of faith. “Have you been seeing someone lately?”

You shake your head. “No. Why? Should I be seeing someone—”

“No.” He cuts you off. You glance at him with a look of suspicion. He feels nervous again. “Well—that’s not what I meant! What I meant was—”

“What are you doing here?” You ask him with a soft voice. You’re looking at him seriously. “Why did you want to see me, Jaehyun?”

“Because there are many things I want to tell you.” He mumbles.

“And what are those things you want to tell me?”

He swears he feels his heart is on fire. He avoids your gaze. “I’m in love with you.”

It feels nice to hear him say it. It’s like time has slowed down and it’s just the two of you in the universe. When you don’t reply, he courageously looks at you to get some sort of answer from your eyes.

You smile. “I know.”

“You know?”

You hum in reply. “I know that you’re in love with me.”

“But are you in love with me?” He whispers. “I mean, it’s fine if you’re not. I just figured that it would be best for me to let you know that I’m in love with you. All I want is closure and a piece of mind knowing that you know that I’m in love with you.”

“You’re rambling agan, Jaehyun.” You chuckle. You look away from him. “What if I’m in love with you?”

“Are you?”

You let out a sigh. “God, I’m so in love with you, Jaehyun. I’m still in love with you.”

“Huh?”

“I’m in love with you.” You repeat yourself.

“You’re in love with me?”

“I’m in love with you, stupid.”

He doesn’t say anything that it makes you start to worry. You look at him, only to find him looking at you. You really want to kiss him. But you’ll probably have to save that for later.

“So,” he mumbles. “You’re in love with me?”

“I told you like three times already in the span of two minutes, Jaehyun.”

“But I want to hear it again—”

“I’m in love with you, Jaehyun.” You repeat it one last time for him. “But do we really have to be sitting on the floor like this in front of my apartment? When we could literally be chilling inside?”

“I’m in love with you too.” He whispers. “And no, we can definitely go inside. If you’re okay with me being in your apartment, of course.”

“Or, you can move in with me. Do you want to move in with me?”

“Not until you give me a kiss first—”

“How about you ask me to marry you instead?”

“Would you say yes, though?”

You laugh.

“Yes.”

“Babe, I’m going to make a quick stop downstairs! I just need to mail something.”

Jaehyun sees you give him two thumbs up. He’s hopping into the elevator to lead him down to the lower floor. He steps out of the apartment and reaches the mailbox. He seals the envelope before placing his letter to his past self through the slit.

He dusts his hands off. “I hope you get there safely.”

—Present

“Babe, have you seen an envelope?”

You step out of the washroom to find Jaehyun rummaging through the drawers. “An envelope? No, why?”

“I swear I placed it in this drawer last night, but now it’s gone.” He frowns, checking all the drawers one last time before sighing with defeat. 

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. It’s probably his letters, you think to yourself. “I think I might know where it went.”

“Really?” He asks.

You nod. “Yeah, I’ll look for it. You should go take a shower before you run late for work.”

As he steps out of the bedroom to take a shower, you open your closet to pull out a box where you’ve put all of your letters in. You can hear the shower turn on as you close the closet door shut. You take a seat on the bed, opening the box—

“What the fuck?” You blurt out.

You’re pulling out the letters, one by one, but as you take them out, they all start to disappear into thin air. One by one, they start crumbling up into thin dust, disappearing in your fingertips.

And what was once a box filled with letters from your future self is now, empty.

And just like the letters that have disappeared as if they’ve never happened, the future has been successfully rewritten.

author’s note. thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this short sequel to seven letters lmao. kjsdhfjkshdf