#my job has me managing my own tasks and time and brother. I believe in the importance of what I’m doing but that does not translate to

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

I am like completely spiraling without the structure, deadlines, and social life of school BUT it’s really easy to ignore that spiral day to day so Also grad school was psychological torment for other reasons

[tima7fa]

Talk To Me

Gojo Satoru x Therapy

Contents: satoru being stupid, reader is a therapist, reader is sugurus sister, didn't adress it that much because my hands hurt and I'm lazy, mention of character death, I honestly don't think this is very romantic probably more platonic, I hate this actually for some reason, this is the longest shit I've written in a while

Note: Satoru doesn't know reader is sugurus sister because she has a different last name, and while she was studying at the same school suguru never knew he had an older sister reader knew she has a younger brother but she never approached him or said anything to him what she regrets the most

And do not attack me yall I don't know how therapy works okay? I've never been there even tho some people tell me I should go to therapy

"Suguru geto is dead."

Your hand froze, the pen you were holding punched a jagged hole through the paper, which became surrounded by a spreading pool of ink. You stared blankly at the damaged sheet, the room falling silent around you in a suffocating hush.

Your gaze slowly met the somber expression of the man seated across from you. "Why are you telling me this, Principal Yaga?" you asked, your voice laced with a veneer of mournful softness.

The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "He was your younger brother-"

"No," you interjected firmly, cutting him off. "I do not know such a man, so please do not speak of him to me here." The harshness in your tone was palpable as you released your grip on the pen, crumpling the ruined paper into an uneven ball and tossing it into the nearby wastebasket.

"You were always a terrible liar, you know," Yaga remarked, reaching a hand out to gently wipe the tears that had carved burning paths down your cheeks. "I would have believed you if your eyes weren't betraying so much grief."

"I'm not crying because of him," you protested desperately, though your futile attempts to stem the flow of tears proved fruitless.

"Child..." Yaga murmured, pulling you from your seat and enveloping you in a comforting embrace. You clung to him tightly, burying your face into the reassuring solidity of his chest as you surrendered to your sorrowful outpouring.

After some time, you finally managed to regain your composure. Yaga handed you a stack of files, and your eyes immediately fell upon a photograph of a white-haired man.

"There is someone I need you to help," the dark-haired man began. "Satoru Gojo." You uttered the name of the renowned child prodigy, staring at Yaga with a look of confusion.

"Satoru and Suguru were close friends, with a deep connection to one another..." Yaga trailed off, his expression heavy with concern. "The one who ended up killing Suguru... was Satoru himself. And he is not in a good mental state."

"I know I'm asking a great deal of you, to help the person who took your brother's life, but-"

"I'll help him," you interrupted, offering Yaga a weak, but resolute smile.

The man's eyes widened with surprise, but his gaze remained clouded with worry. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

You simply nodded in response, steeling your resolve to assist the one who had taken your beloved sibling from you.

___________________________________________

It's absolutely preposterous. No, wait - it's downright hilarious. Satoru Gojo, of all people, being forced into therapy? What a cruel twist of fate. He never wanted this, never needed this. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, he's been strongarmed into it, all thanks to Principal Yaga's meddling.

Surely, this has to be some sort of twisted joke. But alas, he has no choice in the matter. It's either submit to this ludicrous therapy session or risk losing his teaching position - a job he cherishes, as it allows him to continue molding his students, pushing them to heights greater than even his own.

And so, here he sits, in this cozy little room, across from a woman armed with a pad and pen, scrutinizing him through his thick black shades. How is he, a sorcerer tasked with the mastery of curses, supposed to confide in this simple human about the intricacies of his life? She likely doesn't even have the faintest idea what "cursed energy" is, let alone the trials and tribulations he faces on a daily basis.

But he can't ignore the neatly maintained amount of cursed energy emerging from her.

Of course, he has no intention of revealing anything of substance. If he so much as mentions the nature of his work, she'd probably have him committed to a mental institution faster than he can blink.

"So what brings you here today, Mr. Gojo?" the woman asks, her voice dripping with false sweetness, a saccharine smile plastered across her face.

Satoru huffs heavily, the irritation seeping into his tone. "I'm not here by choice. Principal Yaga forced me to come here."

"I know," she responds, and Gojo raises a brow, surprised by her candor. "And I can see that this is your first time here."

"I'm asking you why do you think you're here," the therapist probes, her brows furrowing as Satoru satoru shifts in his seat, crossing his legs defiantly.

"Because I was forced to be here-" he begins, only to be swiftly interrupted.

"Why?" she presses, her tone infuriatingly calm and measured.

Satoru falls silent, staring at her blankly, his irritation palpable. This is supposed to be his time to vent, and yet she keeps interjecting, undermining his attempts at explanation. He already finds her immensely grating.

"Mr. Gojo?" the therapist gingerly tilts her head, awaiting his answer. Satoru sighs heavily, the frustration clear in his voice.

"Because Principal Yaga thinks I'm in desperate need of therapy," he spits through gritted teeth, the mere recollection of that argument making his blood boil.

"What about you? What do you think?" she probes further, her expression maddeningly serene.

"That all of this is stupid. I'm not in need of therapy - I'm perfectly fucking fine," satoru retorts, turning his head away to gaze out the window, where the rain has now begun to fall. He's the strongest sorcerer, for God's sake - he doesn't require aid from anyone.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't need it," she calmly asserts, and satoru can feel his nails digging into the flesh of his biceps through his clothes, crescent-shaped indentations surely imprinting his skin.

His gaze snaps back to her, a scowl etched upon his features. "The hell you mean?" he spits, his tone dripping with venom. "I just told you I was forced to be here. Why the hell don't you understand that?"

"If you were actually fine, Mr. Gojo, you wouldn't be here," the therapist repeats, her saccharine smile infuriating him to no end.

"Since it's your first time here, I'll explain to you how therapy works-" the therapist begins, only to be swiftly cut off by satoru's acerbic retort.

"I know how it works. I spill my guts out to you, you give me some useless advice, write some bullshit on your pad, diagnose that I'm somehow mentally ill - blah, blah, blah," he interjects mockingly, rolling his eyes with palpable annoyance.

The therapist pauses, staring at him for a moment before chuckling softly. "Therapists aren't actually supposed to give advice, as we know that it won't help our clients in any meaningful way or may even make them feel worse. So we avoid doing that. Rather than giving you advice, we guide you to see how your feelings, thoughts, choices, and actions affect one another. And we teach you about emotions, thoughts, coping skills, facing fears, and more."

Satoru scoffs in return, unimpressed. It doesn't matter to him what her job description entails. How the hell is he supposed to feel comfortable when he's paying a person to listen to him? She doesn't genuinely want to hear his problems (not that he has any, of course). And who knows, she'll probably gossip about the shit he says with her friends.

"Now, how about you start telling me about your day?" she inquires, switching the subject, having likely noticed his lingering irritation. Satoru scoffs, as though that were a mind-numbingly dull question.

"My day? Same as any other day," Satoru shrugs. "What do you want to know? The weather? I took a very interesting dump in the morning? Got myself some food, did whatever the hell teachers do - the usual."

The therapist sighs, seemingly ready to give up on that line of questioning, or perhaps regretting having asked it in the first place. Even so, she jots something down on her pad, and Satoru isn't sure if what he said was actually so worthy of being noted.

"Do you seriously have to take notes? What was so important in my answer to write down?" he questions, his tone mocking.

"Everything you say is important, Mr. Gojo," she replies with a hum.

"Really? Is it really that important that I took a dump this morning?" Satoru laughs derisively. Therapy is a joke, as far as he's concerned.

The therapist looks at him with those eerily calm eyes once more, her irritatingly artificial smile still plastered on her face. "You're a teacher - what did you teach your students today?"

What.

"Aren't you supposed to ask me what subjects I teach?" Satoru looked at her suspiciously, wondering if Yaga had somehow explained to her that he is a sorcerer.

"You're a jujutsu sorcerer. There's no need for me to ask what subjects you teach," she replied calmly.

Satoru leaned in, his elbow resting on his thigh as he held his chin in his palm. "You seem to know a lot about me, doc. Just who are you exactly?" A grin appeared on his face, as he considered the possibility that she might also be a sorcerer like him. Outside of the jujutsu domain, humans don't typically know who Gojo Satoru is.

"I'm your therapist," she simply replied, and his brow twitched slightly. "You know what I'm asking, miss."

"What do you think?" She tilted her head, smiling at him. Of course, she would turn the question back to him - it always has to be about his feelings and thoughts in therapy.

"You are a sorceress," he muttered, no longer doubting the amount of cursed energy he felt in the room. She must be a skilled sorceress, able to maintain her cursed energy at a small, unnoticed level surrounding her.

But why would Principal Yaga assign a sorceress to him? Was this some kind of trick? The woman before him is probably not even a real therapist. Still, he's never heard of her name before - perhaps she's a sorceress from another nation?

"Close. I was a sorceress," she revealed.

Satoru's brow furrowed. Why did she quit? And why did she become a therapist? Just who is she exactly?

"Now, why don't we get back on track?" she inquired, smoothly switching the subject and ending his train of thought.

The rest of the session was simply her attempting to get to know him better, or rather, analyze him. However, satoru did not give her that opportunity. Why should he? Yaga had only instructed him to attend therapy, not that it had to be effective. Honestly, satoru did not particularly care about this endeavor.

Why should he divulge information about himself to someone he barely even knows? Not to mention, she is being paid to listen to him - she is not doing this out of her own volition or good-hearted intentions.

She likely does not truly care about his problems (not that he has any, in his opinion). So why should his feelings and thoughts matter to her? She is merely performing her job, nothing more, nothing less.

Satoru has no intention of pouring his heart out to a complete stranger he knows little about. He understands that therapy is meant to provide him with a safe space to be vulnerable and open about everything. But he does not feel comfortable in this room.

___________________________________________

Satoru sighs, leaning his cheek against his fist as he relaxes in the chair in front of her.

"You worry too much," he says casually. "Why don't we ever talk about your feelings? We only ever talk about me."

Satoru is aware that she only wants the best for him. He simply does not care. He is here because it is mandatory, not because he wants to be. He does not believe he needs therapy, despite her claims otherwise. As his therapist, of course she would tell him he requires this treatment.

It has been a month since their therapy sessions began, and satoru has not been the least bit cooperative. The only aspect he has enjoyed is the freedom to freely criticize the higher-ups without anyone chastising him or telling him it is inappropriate.

She would always listen intently to every word that came out of his mouth, diligently noting things down in her little pad. Honestly, not even his own students gave him the same level of attention that she bestowed upon him. He couldn't help but appreciate the fact that his feelings mattered in this space, that what he said truly held significance. He liked that. And he couldn't deny that he enjoyed her undivided attention on him.

"Because I'm your therapist, and I'm supposed to listen to you. Not the other way around." She sighed softly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "How many times do we have to go through this conversation?" She looked utterly exhausted, and he almost felt a tinge of guilt for making this so difficult for her. Keyword: almost.

He knew that she was simply doing her job. But he didn't care - he would make her tired of him until she gave up on him.

Yet, at the same time, the thought of her giving up on him left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't really want that.

He shrugged, smirking. "As many times as you want to," he said, with his ever-present sense of humor. "I can keep dodging questions all day, if you like. I'm perfectly fine just existing in this room while you try to wrangle me into being vulnerable."

"However, I can't say the same about you, doctor." He taunted.

"I am not trying to make you vulnerable, I'm trying to help you understand your feelings and maybe find solutions for your problems, Mr. Gojo," she said calmly, as she crossed her legs and leaned back into her chair.

Satoru rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, waving his hand dismissively as he slumped against the back of his chair. "Help me understand my problems. Solve them. Figure out why I am the way I am. Heard it all before."

He knew he had to be here, in therapy, every week. However, that didn't mean he had to be vulnerable or cooperate with all this touchy-feely stuff. He simply didn't like that kind of thing.

"What makes you the happiest, Mr. Gojo?" She began asking him again. Seriously, how many questions did she prepare for him every time? He couldn't deny that he didn't dislike the fact that she worked so hard, just for him.

Hm.

It was a question he had genuinely considered. What made him the happiest?

"Fighting," he said after a pause. He gave a casual shrug. "I enjoy fights. They're fun. And when they get hard, it makes me want to try even harder. So... I guess that's what makes me the happiest - winning a difficult fight."

"The rush of adrenaline makes me feel... I don't know, excited? You know," he muttered, finding it somewhat challenging to articulate.

She scribbled some more notes in her pad. "Is there any fight that made you especially happy?" she then asked, her gaze shifting back to him from her pad.

"Mhm," he hummed, a small smirk forming on his face. This was a fun question for him. "Well... there was the time I got to fight a special grade," he said, the smile widening as he recalled the memory. "And that time I beat Toji. That's a really good memory."

"I would've died. But he didn't use a cursed tool, and didn't cut my head off," he chuckled, as if it were something to be happy about. "You should've seen the look on his face when he saw me, the one he supposedly killed, still alive and kicking."

"But I can't say I'm not grateful to him. Because I got to finally learn how reverse cursed technique works," he said with a wide grin on his face, and she followed suit by taking more notes in her pad.

He noticed her actions and stared at her with an exaggerated eyebrow raise. "Go ahead, make your notes about me being a sadist and liking to inflict pain or something. Then go back and analyze it with all your other therapist friends."

"I already said this before, whatever happens in this room will stay in this room, Mr. Gojo," she replied. "So be not afraid to spill anything to me."

"Yeah, yeah," he smirked, amused.

"What's my diagnosis, doc?" He tilted his head, staring at her as she lifted her head up from her pad to meet his gaze. "I'm a very bad person, don't you think? I love the pain I inflict on curses, I love the way they fear me, the fear in their eyes makes me feel so fucking excited," he laughed loudly.

"And when their blood taints my skin and clothes, it's such a disgusting texture yet it makes me want to be covered more with their blood. It feels so fucking amazing," he stared at her, awaiting a visible reaction, but he was met with nothing but an empty smile and empty eyes.

He hates this. He hates her. She's just an empty shell.

"You're just as crazy as I am, doc. Aren't ya?"

___________________________________________

But before she could say anything, the session had already ended, and Satoru was quick on his feet to get out of there.

Satoru rolls his eyes at her words and sighs. He leans back into the chair and spreads his legs, getting comfortable.

"This is such a pain," he mutters. "Do we really have to talk today? There's nothing to discuss. I'm peachy keen."

"Mr. Gojo, I need you to be a little more cooperative," she uttered gently.

"Do you, now?" Satoru's tone was dry, like sandpaper, his expression unchanging. He tilted his head slightly to the side. He could tell she was running out of patience, but that didn't stop him from being intentionally difficult. In fact, it made it more fun for him. "Yes, it's for your own good."

Satoru chuckles a little bit. "Aaaand here's the old 'it's for your own good' trope again, huh?" He shook his head, feigning mock disappointment. "I thought we were done with that by now, honestly."

"I do think that you really need this," she said seriously. "Look, Mr. Gojo, you might show your playful and cheerful side to everyone around you, but that is only a way to make them feel safe around you. I don't know what it's like to be the strongest, but I know that it can get pretty lonely standing on your own on top."

"You make it sound like I'm unhappy or something," he replied, shaking his head again. "Is it really so crazy for you to think that I'm perfectly fine being by myself? That I prefer being alone?" A small smile appeared on his face again. "I'm not lonely, doctor. I get more attention than I want, actually."

"That's not it," she sighed, shaking her head. "I know you have friends, you're a pretty talkative person and also a person who's approachable." She gave him a small smile. "Still, being surrounded by people doesn't mean that you feel the warmth of comfort. You keep them around you but still hold a certain distance between you and them that you never let them cross. You never let people get too close to you, which is a problem because you're isolating yourself from the world even if you think you're doing the opposite."

His small smile faded, and he rolled his eyes as he began to look agitated. He sat up, leaning forward towards her, his elbows on his knees. "What's with the armchair psychology? Where are you even getting all of this? You don't know me. You can't just assume these kinds of things based on just a few therapy sessions."

"I'm sorry if this is making you uncomfortable, and please do correct me if I'm wrong. But there are a lot of people who feel lonely even while being surrounded by people," she sighed.

"Regrettably, I struggle to forge meaningful connections with others," he murmured, running his fingers through his hair. "They fail to comprehend me. They do not know the true me. They would be unable to accept me as I truly am, so I ceased exerting the effort. I stopped attempting to force something that was simply never going to materialize. Therefore, I shall keep everyone at a distance, for that is what they deserve. I do not grapple with the kinds of issues you presume I do, so desist in your efforts to analyze me."

She replied softly, "They are unaware of your authentic self because that is the outcome you desire, Mr. Gojo. If you are unwilling to be truthful about your personality and emotions with another individual, can you genuinely call that a connection? A relationship? It is all constructed upon walls of deception, intended to keep them at bay."

Satoru's response was tinged with bitterness. "So you are asserting that the fault lies with me for people's rejection, correct?" He leaned forward, his arms crossed defensively over his knees. A sardonic smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I have made attempts to be honest with others. I have exerted the effort before, yet all I ever received in return was judgment and fear. I shall not place myself in that position again."

"The fault does not lie with you that they do not like you. However, the fault lies with you in presenting a false persona to them daily. Allow me to pose a question - from all the individuals surrounding you, can you name a single person who truly knows you?" she inquired.

Satoru's expression darkened at her words, the façade he maintained for others striking a chord. How could she discern this about him? It irritated him, albeit slightly. His gaze hardened with annoyance.

"No," he admitted in defeat. "I am surrounded by those I call friends, yet not a single soul among them truly knows me."

"Why not try opening up to them?" she suggested. "I will not ask you to confide in me, for I understand you do not particularly enjoy conversing with me, and that is perfectly acceptable. However, I am certain that at least one person would be willing to listen. Believe it or not, if they truly care for you, they will accept you with all your vulnerabilities and flaws."

A scoff escaped his lips at her proposal. "I'd rather not," he stated firmly. There was a sense of finality in his tone, and he was resolute in his decision. He had no desire to open up to anyone. That struck him as a waste of time.

"Even were I to open up to someone, there is a zero percent chance they would genuinely accept me for who I am. It is merely wishful thinking on your part, and you know it," he added.

"I would be truly delighted if you felt inclined to open up, Mr. Gojo. I sincerely implore you to believe me when I say I am fully attentive and receptive to whatever you wish to share," she sighed.

"Yeah, yeah..." he responded dismissively.

Satoru maintained his smirk, genuinely impressed by her unwavering conviction. He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin pensively. "Why are you being so uncharacteristically kind?" he inquired. "Most therapists I've encountered are arrogant, know-it-all types. You, on the other hand, seem far too amiable. I'm not entirely convinced."

His expression suddenly hardened as he leaned forward, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "You're deceiving me," he declared. "You must have some ulterior motive. Therapists do not pose those ostensibly benevolent questions out of pure kindness. You must be attempting to extract something from me - perhaps a salacious story to sell to the press, or you may have a reporter willing to pay handsomely for such information. Or, it could be that you are merely trying to bolster your own image, and I am the unfortunate individual you intend to 'utilize.' Well, let me inform you of something, my dear."

He seized the arms of her chair, pulling it forcefully towards him until their faces were mere inches apart. Satoru could hear the subtle hitch in her breath, a sign of her surprise at his sudden, assertive action. Maintaining unwavering eye contact, he leaned in closer, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You should understand," he whispered, "that I am no stranger to individuals who believe they have me all figured out. So no matter how genuine you may seem, my dear, I am not so easily cracked." With that, he reclined back in his chair, releasing his grip on her seat. "You'll have to try something else."

For a moment, she remained silent, before letting out a soft sigh and offering him a gentle smile. "Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Gojo." Her words, rather than indignant, carried a sense of empathy.

Satoru's eyes widened in surprise. He had expected her to refute his accusations, to insist that she harbored no ulterior motives. But instead, she had responded with gratitude for his candor.

He stared at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her facade of kindness to crumble. Yet, it never did. This woman, it seemed, was genuine in her compassion.

"If you feel uncomfortable in my presence, please do not hesitate to request a different therapist," she suggested, her tone measured and understanding. "I would be more than happy to make the necessary arrangements."

Satoru's expression darkened at her offer. "No," he said, his voice harsher than he had intended. He paused, taking a breath to regain his composure. "No, I want you," he stated firmly. "I'm cooperating, aren't I? If I wanted someone else, I would have requested a change long ago."

Satoru took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly at her gentle suggestion.

"You were more cooperative than before. And I appreciate that," she said, offering him a warm smile.

Satoru blinked in surprise. He had not expected such a genuine acknowledgment of his progress.

"So... what?" he asked, tilting his head as he considered her words. "You're saying you're proud of me?"

"I am. You're doing great," she hummed softly.

To both her and his own surprise, Satoru suddenly burst out laughing – a loud, unrestrained sound that filled the small space as he leaned back in his chair, clutching his stomach in an attempt to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he managed after a moment, taking a deep breath as he looked at her. "That... that just took me by surprise."

"No, please don't apologize," she quickly reassured him. "I must say, this is the most expressive I've seen you in this room." She chuckled lightly.

Satoru couldn't deny the truth in her words. His laughter finally subsiding, he smirked, crossing his arms. "Expressive? I guess if you count 'laughing like a maniac' as being expressive, I can agree."

He paused, a touch of amusement still in his tone. "I guess I'm improving, if I'm entertaining you."

"So, got something else to ask me, doc?" he inquired, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"Tell me, do you know who you are, Mr. Gojo?" she asked, her gaze steady and her tone sincere.

Satoru's features twisted into an expression of annoyance at the question. "Of course I know who I am," he retorted, the defensiveness evident in his tone. "What is this, a therapy session?"

"I'm not asking you about the position you've been forced into, and definitely not the personality made up," she said, shaking her head. "I'm asking you – do you really know who you are?"

He let out a dry laugh, the irritation seeping through. "Who I really am? What kind of question is that? Are you seriously going to ask me to define my entire existence right now? Are you expecting me to have some groundbreaking revelation or something? Because I hate to break it to you, doctor, but I'm tired of all this self-reflecting nonsense."

"Tell me the first thing that comes to mind when you think about yourself," she sighed, her patience unwavering.

Satoru tilted his head back with a sigh, closing his eyes. He was doing this not because he genuinely wanted to, but to get her off his back.

After a few moments of contemplation, he responded, "The strongest. I'm unreachable, untouchable."

"If you ask someone else the same question," she trailed off, "what's the first thing that comes to mind when they think of Gojo Satoru? They'll reply with the same thing. But is it really what you want?"

He opened his eyes, looking at her with a furrowed brow. "What I want?" he said, his voice filled with disbelief. "What I want is for you to not ask me weird questions that have no point or answer. I'm perfectly fine with being unreachable and untouchable. That's how I's always been. It's the natural order of things."

"Is strength really what defines you?" she asked. He raised a brow. "What's your point?"

"Do you know who you are?"

"Tell me, will you be Gojo Satoru without your powers?"

This question - it struck a chord within him. He remembers the day Suguru left, and the question that had remained unanswered until now. He had chosen to ignore it, but now it was haunting him once more.

Without his powers? His powers had been such a central focus in his life; he'd never truly considered his life without them. He... didn't even know who he would be. He was Gojo Satoru, the strongest of the strong. Take that away, and who was left?

He couldn't answer that. He simply remained silent, looking down at his hands, his grip tightening on his knees as he felt a sense of defensiveness.

But then, he stopped himself, his grip loosening as he looked at her, still frowning but with slightly less irritation in his expression.

"The therapy session is over," she said softly. "I want you to think about this question and try to find an answer to it."

Satoru let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, the session was finally over. Despite being overjoyed that he no longer had to continue, his expression darkened a little, his brow furrowing in thought. He knew he would be thinking about this, whether he wanted to or not. She didn't even have to ask.

He stood up from the chair and left the room without giving her a last glance. He heard her say something about how he should take care of himself.

The drive back to the Gojo Clan's compound was spent in relative silence. Ijichi kept a watchful eye on Satoru, who remained uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were consumed by the question posed to him during the therapy session.

As the car pulled up to the gates of the compound, Satoru suddenly spoke. "Ijichi," he said, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, "if I weren't the strongest, would I still be Gojo Satoru?"

Ijichi's gaze shifted to Satoru, surprise flickering across his features at the unexpected question.

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "Your strength is a significant aspect of who you are, but it is not the essence of your identity." He watched Satoru for a moment, noting the expression on his face. "May I ask why you're asking this, Gojo?"

"Just something that I thought about," he said dismissively.

The rest of the evening was spent in a haze of thought for Satoru, tossing and turning in bed as he wrestled with his questions, doubts, and insecurities. They swirled in his mind, keeping him from finding respite. He had never felt so uncertain, so lost before. Who was he without the mantle of the strongest? What did he even have left?

He tried to shake off these thoughts, to push them to the back of his mind, but the questions persisted, gnawing at him like a relentless ache.

Gojo's thoughts returned to the question she had asked, "Do you know who you are?" He couldn't help but scowl at the recollection. He had taken offense to the question then, but now, alone with his thoughts in the quiet of the night, he found himself truly grappling with the magnitude of that question.

Who was he? This question had never posed a challenge before. He had always known who he was - the strongest. That had been his identity for as long as he could remember.

___________________________________________

The days that followed were restless, as her questions flooded his mind at all times - while teaching, on a mission, or at home. Her question occupied his mind constantly.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. There was no point in lying here, unable to sleep. He needed air.

Satoru grabbed his jacket and threw it over his shoulders before quietly making his way out of the room, the floor creaking under his feet in the otherwise silent compound.

As he walked, the echoes of his footsteps reverberating down the hallway, he couldn't shake off the persistent questions that had been plaguing his mind all night.

He reached the entrance of the compound and stepped outside into the cool night air. The stars twinkled above him, a blanket of sparkling lights against the inky sky. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the quiet and the solitude.

But even in the silence of the night, the questions stayed with him, refusing to give him peace. He found himself facing an identity crisis that gnawed at him like never before.

Satoru walked, the snow crunching beneath every step his feet took. He walked with no destination in mind, hoping that maybe the movement and the fresh air would help clear his mind. Yet, no matter how far he walked, he couldn't escape the questions that haunted him.

Suddenly, the thought struck him - perhaps he needed guidance. But who could he turn to? His mind flitted through the people in his life - Nanamin, Ieiri, Ijichi, but ultimately he dismissed each one. They would never understand what he was going through.

But the thought persisted. He couldn't shake off the idea of her help. She had already managed to get under his skin, planting this seed of doubt that had grown into this existential crisis. Perhaps she was exactly the person he needed right now.

Satoru clenched his fists, silently cursing to himself. He had always prided himself on being in control, but now, here he was, considering seeking help from the very person who had caused his turmoil in the first place.

But it was late at night, would she even help him if he called her right now? Would she help him without getting paid, without being in that stuffy room?

As the dial tone rang through the line, anxiety began to creep into his mind. What if she didn't answer? What if she hung up once she realized it was him? He had never called her outside of their sessions before. Why would she answer now?

After what felt like an eternity, the line clicked open, breaking the silence. Satoru's heart pounded in his chest. She had actually answered.

"Hello? How may I help you?" Her voice was sleepy and confused at the late call.

Satoru hesitated for a moment, the sound of her tired, confused voice sending prickles of guilt through him. Should he really be doing this? But he had already come this far; he couldn't back down now.

"It's me," he finally said, his voice low and a little apologetic. "Gojo Satoru. I - I need help."

"Mr. Gojo?" She was suddenly wide awake, she didn't expect him of all people to call. "Of course, where are you right now?"

"I'm... I'm outside," he replied, a hint of shame in his voice. He didn't know how to explain where he was or what he was doing out so late. "I was walking. But I can't stop thinking about that question you asked me in the session that day. And it's driving me insane. I - I need answers."

"Can you be more specific? I'm on my way— ah, shit!" She cursed as she hit her foot with something she wasn't able to see in the dark, she quickly put on her jacket and her scarf and went downstairs.

Gojo heard the clatter and curse from her end of the line, making him flinch slightly. He felt oddly guilty for waking her and even making her come out at this late hour.

"Be more specific?" he repeated, his irritation seeping into his voice. "Isn't it enough that you threw my whole world off-balance? Now you need more specifics...?" But his tone softened as he mumbled, "I guess it'd be better if you were here."

"No. Where are you right now exactly?" She asked, putting her shoes on and finally going outside as it had begun snowing. She quickly got into her car.

Gojo huffed out a sigh, glancing around to get his bearings, "I'm about three miles north of Jujutsu High."

He was still outside the compound, which meant he had walked a considerable distance in his thoughts. The snowflakes were slowly falling from the sky, each one descending gently to the ground. Gojo stood there, watching them fall, waiting for her to arrive and, hopefully, provide some clarity to his chaotic thoughts.

"Okay, stay where you are. I'll be there in 10 minutes." She said as she started driving. "Tell me how you've been feeling today?"

Satoru rolled his eyes slightly as he heard her questioning. This woman just didn't know when to quit. But he was here for an answer, so he might as well satisfy her with some small talk beforehand.

"I've been feeling lost," he admitted after a moment, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "Like everything I've ever known about myself has been turned upside down." He paused, a hint of resentment in his voice. "All because of what you said during the session."

"I see. It's good that you've thought about it, Mr. Gojo," she muttered softly.

"Is it?" he snapped. "Because right now, I feel like you've thrown my whole world off-balance. And for what? Because you wanted me to 'think about it'?" Satoru let out a bitter chuckle. "You're cruel, you know that? Or perhaps you just find pleasure in messing with my mind."

"A person needs to know themselves before trying to help themselves." She said. "You don't know who you are."

"And whose fault is that?" He muttered under his breath, his frustration growing. "I had this issue before, but I had somehow gotten rid of it. But now that you've planted this seed of doubt again, all I can think about is questioning who I am. It's maddening!"

He let out a bitter chuckle again. "Are you happy now, that I'm having this crisis?"

"Thank you for sharing your feelings." She said, as if trying to comfort him.

"Don't act so sweet, like you actually care about how I feel," he snapped. He was tired, irritated, and at the end of his rope. "You have no idea what this revelation is doing to me. My whole identity was built upon being the strongest. If you take that away, what's left of me? Who am I without that identity?"

She parked near Jujutsu High, getting outside of her car. "I do know what you're feeling right now, believe it or not I was in the same state that you were in." The snow crunched beneath her shoes as she started searching for him.

Satoru scoffed slightly, disbelief clear in his voice. "You know what it's like to have your entire identity shattered like this? Please. As if you could ever understand my struggle. I've dedicated my whole life, my very existence to be the strongest."

He shook his head, his expression a mix of bitterness and desperation. "But now, all I have are questions. Why am I here? Who am I, if not the strongest? It's like a never-ending abyss of uncertainty."

Here is the expanded version of the dialogue with more descriptive language:

She strode towards him, her eyes finally landing on his familiar form. "Turn around," she instructed gently.

Satoru's brow furrowed slightly, confusion etching across his features at her sudden command. After a moment's hesitation, he slowly pivoted to face her, his expression guarded, eyes wary.

"Where's your blindfold?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

He blinked, surprised by her question. In the whirlwind of emotions, he had nearly forgotten about the blindfold when he left the compound. But what did his lack of the customary covering have to do with anything?

"I don't have it," he responded slowly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't want you to have a headache." She spoke softly, aware of his unique situation - the six eyes that made him perceive the world differently, often leading to painful migraines. Reaching up, she untied her own scarf. "Here, put this on."

Satoru stared at her, a mix of surprise and wariness evident in his gaze. He was unaccustomed to anyone showing him such genuine concern. She had already managed to see through his carefully crafted bravado and delve into the depths of his mind, and now she was extending this empathy? It was unsettling.

Still, he hesitated for a moment, torn between his reluctance and the throbbing ache pulsing at his temples. Finally, he reached out and gently took the scarf from her outstretched hand.

Satoru carefully wrapped the soft fabric around his eyes, tying it securely in place. It felt unusual, a stark contrast to his familiar blindfold, yet it offered a surprising sense of relief. The gentle pressure against his eyes was soothing, and the plush material was a comforting contrast to the chill of the night air.

He took a shallow breath, feeling a slight easing of the headache. He couldn't deny the scarf was helping, but it felt peculiar to be seen and cared for in this way.

"I want you to think about the moments in your life that didn't involve your powers," she said gently, her words a gentle nudge.

Satoru's expression darkened slightly at her prompting. His life had always revolved around his abilities, especially after discovering the rarity of his Six Eyes.

But the thought did pose an intriguing question. He had never truly considered the times when he wasn't constantly using or contemplating his powers.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice laced with a rare vulnerability. "What if there are no such moments?"

"Right now, right here. You aren't using your powers," she pointed out. "I'm sure there have been many instances in your life where your abilities weren't the primary focus - going out with your students, spending time with friends, studying, taking walks, even just everyday tasks like eating or running errands."

Satoru's frown deepened slightly as her words sank in. She was right. In that very moment, he wasn't relying on his Six Eyes to protect himself or perceive the world around him.

He couldn't deny the existence of those more mundane, seemingly insignificant moments in his life that didn't revolve around his powers. Simple joys like laughing with his students, or the solace he found in the company of his friends - times when his abilities weren't at the forefront of his mind.

"You're human, Mr. Gojo," she said, her tone gentle yet firm. "So, please, don't treat yourself as if you're not. Your power is a part of your identity, but is it really everything about you? That's the question you need to ask yourself."

Satoru's breath caught slightly as her words sank in. He had spent so many years defining himself by his power, by his role as the strongest, that it was difficult to imagine there was anything else to him.

But she was correct. His abilities were a part of him, but they did not encompass his entire existence. He was more than just his powers. He was a jujutsu sorcerer, a teacher, a friend, a human with emotions and a complex inner world.

"Now let me ask you again," she trailed off. "Do you know who you are, Mr. Gojo?"

Satoru exhaled slowly, feeling a sense of clarity wash over him. He understood now what she was trying to convey. His identity was not solely tied to his powers. There was so much more to him than that.

He lifted his head, the scarf over his eyes lifting slightly. His voice was quiet but sure.

"I am Satoru Gojo. Jujutsu sorcerer. Teacher. Friend. Human. And so much more."

"Exactly." She chuckled. "I'm proud of you."

Satoru felt a flicker of something unfamiliar stir within him at her words. He had never heard someone express pride in him, at least not on an emotional level. Usually, it was about his prowess or his accomplishments in battle.

He gave a small snort, trying to downplay how her praise affected him. "You make me sound like a child, Miss Therapist," he muttered, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh..sorry, I didn't mean to come across that way," She quickly apologized.

Satoru waved her apology away with a dismissive hand gesture. "No, no. I wasn't offended or anything like that," he reassured her. "It's just..a little surprising, that's all."

He gave a small laugh, shaking his head slightly. "People usually praise me for being the strongest, not for being...human. But it's not a bad feeling, to know that someone is proud of me as a person. So thank you."

"No. Thank you for being truthful with me, Mr. Gojo," She hummed softly.

A small chuckle escaped Gojo's lips, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You know, I'm not sure why you're thanking me for doing the bare minimum," he teased. "Being truthful should be expected, shouldn't it?"

"I'm thanking you because I know how difficult it is to be truthful about yourself with someone and to be truthful with yourself," She chuckled.

Satoru's smile widened slightly. Her words carried a sincerity that resonated deeply within him.

"You're right," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not easy. In fact, it's damn near impossible sometimes." He took a deep breath, letting out a small sigh.

"Being honest with yourself, and with others...it requires a certain level of vulnerability and courage, and frankly, I'm not always very good at it."

Here is the response with more detailed and descriptive wording:

"That's perfectly understandable, you are only human and thus not impervious to imperfections. We all have our flaws, fears, and moments of fallibility at times. But that is what makes us distinctly human, what sets us apart from the animal kingdom. We have the capacity to learn and grow from our mistakes, to confront and overcome our fears, and to refine our shortcomings. " She spoke softly, her voice tinged with a gentle empathy. "You should never forget that you are just as human as anyone else—" Her words were suddenly interrupted by a delicate sneeze.

Satoru flinched slightly as the unexpected sound pierced the crisp, cold night air. On some level, he was somewhat relieved that her soothing words had been cut short, as they had started to hit a little too close to home for his comfort.

"Bless you," he murmured, his tone a curious blend of playful teasing and genuine concern. "It seems the frigid weather has gotten the better of you."

"Sorry about that...I'm just not terribly well-suited for cold climates," she admitted, rubbing her hands together in a futile attempt to generate warmth.

Satoru couldn't resist the temptation of a mischievous smirk. Here he had been feeling vulnerable and exposed, and now the tables had turned, with her appearing to be the one struggling against the biting chill.

"That's not something one usually hears from someone who was living in the northern regions," he teased, unable to resist the opportunity to poke a bit of fun. "I thought the hardy folk up there were practically immune to the cold."

"Well, you see, I wasn't actually born and raised in these parts, i just lived some years there." she chuckled.

"Ah, I see," satoru nodded, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes. "So you're not a true northerner. That certainly explains a lot."

He paused for a moment, a mischievous thought crossing his mind. "But you'll never truly adapt if you don't embrace the cold," he declared dramatically. "And what better way to do that than by engaging in a good old-fashioned snowball fight?"

Without warning, she hurled a tightly packed snowball directly at him, the frozen projectile striking him with surprising force.

"You should be more careful!" She laughed as she scurried away.

Satoru was momentarily caught off-guard by her sudden attack. He blinked, stunned for a moment, before a wide grin spread across his face.

"Oh, it's on now," he declared, his eyes twinkling with competitive delight.

He swiftly leaned down, scooping up a handful of snow and shaping it into a compact, aerodynamic ball, before launching it towards her with remarkable precision.

"Agh!" She groaned as the snowball hit its mark, but her laughter quickly followed. "Cheater!"

Satoru chuckled, not holding back a hint of smug satisfaction. "Cheat? Perish the thought, my dear," he declared, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. "I'm merely making use of my natural talents."

He quickly formed another snowball, his movements quick and elegant, and with a flick of his wrist, he released it, aiming straight for her. "I am, after all, the reigning champion of snowball warfare," he boasted.

"Hey! Go easy on me!" She laughed again, retaliating with a well-aimed snowball of her own.

"Easy? What is this, a snowball fight for beginners?" Satoru teased, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He dodged her projectile with effortless grace, his steps light and fleeting like a shadow.

He swiftly countered with his own snowball, a perfect shot that struck its target, causing her to stumble slightly. "Come on, you can do better than that," he taunted, reveling in the adrenaline of their playful conflict.

"No fair!" She whined as she threw another snowball, this time finally hitting him squarely. "Ha!"

Satoru let out a theatrical groan, pretending to be wounded by her snowball. "Oh, the agony," he clutched at his heart dramatically, a grin betraying his amusement. "I've been hit! What a catastrophic defeat this is."

Not one to be outdone, he swiftly retaliated, launching a flurry of snowballs in her direction with deadly accuracy. "You can't stop the king of snowballs!"

She deftly dodged his barrage of snowballs, her movements agile and nimble. "The rightful queen of snowballs will reclaim her throne!" She chuckled as she threw another well-aimed projectile.

Satoru raised an eyebrow at her declaration, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Oh, is that so? The rightful queen of snowballs, you claim to be?"

He evaded her snowball easily, his laughter echoing through the night. "Well, let's see how rightful you truly are!" He retaliated with a series of perfectly aimed snowballs, each one a testament to his skill and precision.

Some snowballs found their mark, but she quickly retreated behind the shelter of a nearby tree, emerging to launch her own volley of icy projectiles in his direction. "You're cheating!" She accused playfully.

Satoru laughed heartily, his eyes glinting with a competitive spark. "Cheating? Or simply better at this than you?" he teased.

He ducked, weaved, and dodged her snowballs with a casual ease that made it appear as though he were dancing rather than engaging in a fierce snowball battle. "Admit it, darling. I'm just naturally gifted at the art of snowy warfare!"

"Nuh uh!" She laughed, her voice filled with playful defiance as the relentless snowball fight continued.

As the intense battle of wits and wintry wonders wore on, their laughter filled the night air, echoing through the trees. Satoru's competitive spirit was fully ignited, and he wasn't holding back. His movements were swift and precise, each snowball hitting its mark with remarkable accuracy.

"Admit it, admit it!" he called out, his voice teeming with playful taunting. "You can't defeat the Snowball King!"

"The queen will reclaim her rightful place!" She said playfully as she suddenly ran up to him and tackled him, sending them both tumbling into the soft, powdery snow. "The king has fallen!" She laughed triumphantly.

Satoru's eyes widened in surprise as he felt himself falling, his balance thrown off by her unexpected attack. He landed on his back with a thump, sinking slightly into the snow, a look of mock indignation on his face.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be, queen?" he chuckled, his tone filled with playful defiance. "You really think you can take down the king with a sneak attack like that?"

"Yeah!" She laughed as she straddled him, triumphantly launching a handful of snow directly into his face. "Payback!"

Satoru sputtered and spluttered as the cold, powdery snow landed on his face, momentarily obscuring his vision. But the unexpected sensation of her sitting atop him, coupled with the icy touch of the snow, sent a shiver of exhilaration down his spine.

He blinked, his eyes glinting with a mischievous sparkle as he grinned up at her. "Oh, you think that's payback? That won't do. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

And in a sudden, swift motion, he flipped them over, now pinning her down to the snow, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face. He took a handful of the icy powder and gently placed it in her mouth before she could react. "How does snow taste, my queen?"

She quickly spat out the snow, coughing and sputtering, but he merely laughed in response as he collapsed down beside her, both of them lying in the snow, their breathing heavy from the exertion of their playful battle.

After a moment of catching their breath, satoru turned his head towards her, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, a result of the cold. He couldn't help but find her endearing in that moment.

"I would like to know more about you, miss therapist," Satoru murmured, his curiosity piqued. She was silent for a moment, contemplating his request. "What would you like to know?"

"I don't know... perhaps you could start by telling me why you decided to quit being a sorcerer?" Satoru's expression sobered slightly.

She paused for a moment before speaking. "I was previously involved in a perilous mission and perished back then, but I still clung desperately to life. So I made a binding vow, offering my cursed technique in exchange for the preservation of my life, I suppose." She shrugged, as if the matter was trivial. "I'm sorry to hear about your experience," I responded sympathetically.

"It's alright, the practice of sorcery simply was not meant for me. Instead, I have decided to become a therapist, helping people who are part of the jujutsu community, as I understand the daily realities they face as sorcerers."

He hummed thoughtfully as he looked back up at the sky. "That explains why I have never heard of you before," he mused. "Do you have any surviving family members?" he inquired.

"They have all passed away," she replied solemnly.

"I see," he said quietly.

"I apologize for-" he began.

"No need to apologize," she assured him. "I understand your curiosity."

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Ch. 4: Strangers With Memories

a/n: more angst but at least they aren't as awkward, however, after this chapter, I fear it's only going to go downhill for my babies :(

The dreadful No Contact Rule. Difficult not to break when the relationship is over and even more so when the relationship comes to a sudden halt but the feelings are still brewing inside. When the distance is forced and fueled by the guilt of losing that person again. However, I would be lying if I said that Jungkook is no longer part of my life. That I have somehow completely barricaded myself from his presence. How could I, when not even a conscious stream of thought can overcome the yearning of a broken heart? One that still longs for his touch, his sweet smile, his laugh. One that has been holding on to the memories of our past despite the lack of recollection in Koo’s eyes. To him, we are simply picking things up from where they were left off. Not a complicated task in nature until you realise that our story left off with his first and last “I love you, Mira”. So, no matter how hard I try to push him away, the heartstrings of my own soul seem to pull us back together. Even if he sees me as just a friend, I am willing to fight for everything we could have been, until one day he finally remembers it all. Remembers me, remembers us.

Unfortunately, with school starting, everyone has been getting back into their routines, leaving little time or opportunity to actually hang out. Despite this, Jungkook has made a special effort to “build back what he can’t remember”. So, seeing him has actually become part of my daily ritual. Whether that be going on a morning jog or grabbing a quick coffee after class. Like the good old days, we are connecting as close friends, since everything began that way. Before anything, Koo was my friend, one who somehow filled the void of my family when we were separated by an ocean. For that, I will forever be grateful to him. 

Today was like any other. Tae and I met our new cohort leader, the head of the ER department in the local children’s hospital, who was this older gentleman who wasted no opportunity to crack one of his dad jokes. He absolutely adored Tae, said that he saw his younger self in him, and unless he was a sleep-deprived, broke college student, I’m not sure what the correlation was. To be honest, Tae hasn’t been having it easy either. His grandma was recently diagnosed with pneumonia, so he spent the entire summer working three jobs to send as much money as he could back home. Being the only man, and thus, the breadwinner in the family after the passing of his father, he constantly tells me about the guilt he endures being far away from his mom, younger sister and grandma. The three women in his life he would give up anything for. And, as I’ve watched him slowly run himself thin, I have grown to be protective of Tae myself. Although he is older, in my eyes he will always be like a little brother to me. One whose shoulders carry the weight of a whole lineage.

Packing up our staff after class, Tae recommended we try the new pastry shop that opened by our dormitory. One that he first mentioned when Jungkook was admitted into the hospital in hopes of cheering my numb self. However, during that period the aching pain in my heart wanted nothing more than to be by Koo’s side. So, seeing that this time Tae was the one in need of support, I made sure to take him up on the offer as we indulged in our daily debrief. At the end of the day, we might not know how to properly give an IV but you best believe that we know how to run our mouths. In the span of half an hour, we managed to cover every possible topic known to men, ranging from the rise in the cost of eggs to the hideous new haircut the grumpy librarian decided to debut today. Our conversation could have gone on for hours until it was abruptly interrupted by the buzzing of my phone. 

Koo: Will 20 minutes be enough for you to get ready?

Mira: Depends … where are you taking me? 

Koo: It’s a surprise, just wear something comfy ;)

“Who got you smiling like that?” Tae chuckles teasingly, seeing that his words have lost my attention.  

“Oh nothing, I’m sorry, it’s just Jungkook,” I say, nibbling on my lips to suppress the urge to keep smiling. 

“What did he say?” he leans forward taking a sip of his Americano. 

“I think he wants to go somewhere?” my words drag on as he searches my scattering eyes. 

“Now?” 

“Well, no you’re right, I’m just gonna tell him that I’m busy,” I try to comfort Tae with a smile, sensing the guilt of leaving him alone.

“No, I mean, don’t you want to freshen up? How much time do you have?” he mumbles, gaze softening at my flustered state. 

“Oh, are you sure? I hate to pause our little hangout,” 

“There’s always tomorrow,” Tae assures with a boxy smile. 

“Okay, I’ll see you at breakfast, alright?” I say, packing up my stuff before we wave each other goodbye.

Thank God, the pastry shop was a short walk away from the dormitory as I suddenly realised how valid Tae’s suggestion of a shower was. Let’s just say that today’s clinical was one for the books. Not only did I spill a whole IV bag on my scrubs but I’m pretty sure that there are still some pieces of dried cream in my hair as one of the older patients refused to cooperate. So, as I finally managed to open the front door, I headed straight into the shower, washing myself free of the chaotic aftermath. 

Debating between a woven sweater and a cashmere pullover I settled on the one Koo loved the most. “Peaches, you’re so soft,” he used to say, pulling me into a tight hug as his hands caressed the delicate cashmere. I wore it on our last date before the incident, the one we spent on Oceana Beach talking about the future, our future. Miraculously, after all this time, it still had his scent, the sweet vanilla musk lingered like the memories of our past. I remember crying sleepless nights, holding the cashmere close to my heart as if it were the only thing left of Jungkook. With my eyes closed, I could almost feel his warm embrace. 

Beep Beep 

My reminiscing, however, was interrupted by Jungkook’s arrival. Quickly touching up my makeup, I grab my purse and phone before locking the door behind me. Maybe it’s from the actual physical rush or the fact that I get to see him again, but my heart sure is beating hard. I could practically feel it in my throat. And, the appearance of his bunny smile as our eyes finally met certainly did not help it either. 

“Sorry to make you wait,” I say out of breath, tucking some stray pieces of hair behind my ear. 

“No worries, I just came,” Koo assures softly, leaning back on his car. 

“So, where is this mystery destination?” I grin teasingly, folding my arms in front of my chest. 

“Surprise, remember? Ladies first,” he grins back, opening the passenger door, before helping me buckle up. And, just like that, my heartbeat went through the roof again. 

Driving down the bridge, we were in awe of the beautiful sunset that covered the sky in warm tones. Blasting our favourite song, Jungkook rolled down all the windows before pausing his phone just in time for the high note. And, as silence filled the car I could feel the flush rise up my cheeks from the sheer embarrassment that was my singing. It wasn’t just a voice crack, it was the complete demolishment of my dignity. 

“Yah, how could you betray me like that?” I scoff in disbelief, rolling the windows back up to shield myself from the passing cars. 

“I couldn’t help it, you looked so concentrated,” Jungkook chuckles, mimicking my singing face. 

“Okay, relax, eyes on the road bunny boy,” I smirk, turning the music back on.

“We’re here,” he says, turning into the parking lot. Looking around, chills run down my spine as I realise where we are. The Oceana Beach. This means that while I was fully immersed in our karaoke session, Jungkook unknowingly drove past the exact spot where he lost consciousness on that cold, winter night. All this time, I’ve been trying to avoid this place in hopes of erasing the image of Koo’s frail body lying on the side of the road. Now, I have to act like none of that happened, since he doesn’t remember any of it. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Jungkook’s voice pulls me out of the spiral, as my chest heaves up. Feeling his hand on mine, my body almost jolts from his touch, unable to hide the fear rushing through my veins. It all felt so surreal, to be looking at him alive in flesh but knowing that the Jungkook I once knew was no longer there. 

“Yeah, I … I just remembered something,” I lie with a nervous chuckle, unbuckling myself. Helping me out of the car, Jungkook looks concerned, eyes searching mine. 

“You sure, you’re alright? I can drive back jus…” 

“No, no don’t be ridiculous. I swear I’m all good,” I interrupt his sentence with a reassuring smile. Reaching for my hands again, only this time with slight hesitation, his worried eyes meet mine as his thumb caresses the back of my palms. 

“Mira, you’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” his words are layered with a tone of fear, uneasiness, and genuine worry. But, there’s a short period of silence, as my mind filters through possible replies. 

“Of course,” I manage a small chuckle, swallowing down the lie. With a nod of acceptance and a soft sigh, he intertwined his fingers with mine, taking the bags from his trunk before walking us toward a small spot by a campfire. Setting everything up, I was commanded to just relax, covered under a woven blanket.

“I used to love making smores when I was little,” Jungkook smiles, handing me a bag of marshmallows, before covering himself under the same blanket. Jimin was right, he could still remember the earlier years of his life, but nothing of the recent events. 

“Can’t relate, I somehow always burned mine,” I frown as he can’t help but laugh, scrunching his nose and letting that bunny smile come on full display.   

“Hey, don’t laugh,” 

“I’m sorry, but how does one mess this up?” he leans closer, nudging my shoulder before looking back at the sparks. If only time could stop and we could stay this way forever. If only he could feel the way my heart ached at that moment. 

“So, Mira, do you have a boyfriend?” his sudden question brought me back again, as my eyebrows visibly furrowed from the bluntness of his curiosity. 

“Why? Are you trying to pitch an offer?” I chuckle, leaning closer to the fire to warm my hands, before looking back at his teasing grin. 

“Just trying to figure you out,” he replies softly, eyes searching mine. 

“I used to,” 

“Oh, yeah? What happened? 

“He moved away. Long distance didn’t work out,” I reply slowly, allowing the fake story to play out without succumbing to the tears. 

“That sucks, you guys don’t keep in touch at all?” Jungkook’s curiosity is innocent in nature but naive to our past. I can’t even get mad at him for digging deeper, even if it hurts.  

“I’m not sure he remembers me anymore,” I sigh, replying almost defeated. 

“That’s a lie. Who could forget you?” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief, blind to the irony of it all. 

“Yeah …” a little chuckle escapes me as well, as my eyes dissociate into the distance. “I'm pretty unforgettable, aren't I?” 

“Pretty and unforgettable,” Jungkook replies with a quick wink, covering my shivering body with his share of the blanket before taking a bite of my half-burned marshmallow.

--

Replaying our last conversation in my head, I felt bad for snapping at Jiah at the mall. It was totally uncalled for and simply a projection of the thoughts that haunted my mind. Not a fibre of my being meant it as we rarely ever fought or even came to a slight disagreement with each other. To be quite frank, during that time it seemed like every interaction I had was like walking on a minefield. With one wrong move, I was destined to blow up and take everyone else down with me.  

Not being able to talk to her freely pained me, as I grew to miss my best friend with each passing day. And if one thing was for sure, then it was that Jiah deserved an apology as she fell victim to my self-destruction. So, after a few hours of crafting a well-developed apology, I made my way to her apartment, which was literally a level below mine. Nonetheless, the walk there seemed never-ending, most likely due to the sheer panic I was experiencing. It wasn’t fueled by the fear of her reaction but the shame I felt from how I treated Jiah. However, none of it mattered anymore, as I stood in front of her door, hand ready to place a few knocks. That is until it suddenly swings open and our eyes finally meet again. 

“Jiah,” I mumble before she pulls me into a tight hug as tears stream down both of our faces. No words needed to be said. Everything was understood through the emotions we were experiencing. Melting deeper into her embrace, my face dug deeper into her hair as the sweet smell of coconut filled my senses, reminding my body of her aura. I missed her so much that I could physically feel the void in my heartache as my teary eyes searched her sad gaze. 

“Jiah, I’m so sorry,” I manage to let out as she gently wipes the tears off of my face. Holding onto her hand, I keep it close to my chest as my heart beats faster. 

“It’s okay, love. I’ve missed you so much,” she says softly, tucking a few pieces of stray hair behind my ear. And, just like that, we were back in each other’s embrace, making up for the lost time we were apart. Catching up, we spent the whole afternoon discussing everything that happened since our falling out. She showed me the emerald jewellery set Jimin gifted her for their 1 year anniversary and the pictures they took following their celebration. They looked so happy that I couldn’t stop smiling. If they ever break up then I’ll know that love isn’t real, because in my eyes they were destined for each other. No one understands Jiah better than Jimin and no one cares so deeply for Jimin more than Jiah. Simply put, they’re soul mates. 

Feeling lightheaded from all the tears we’ve cried, I suggested we go out to grab some late lunch, or early dinner before going on a walk around campus. Jiah was quick to agree as she changed into some jeans and a hoodie before grabbing her purse and keys. Stopping by my dorm, I quickly touched up my makeup in hopes of not scaring innocent civilians from the aftermath of my mental breakdown. And, as we rode the elevator down to the main lobby, Jiah and I were inseparable once again. That is until my eyes widened at the sight of Jungkook standing by his car, shuffling in place to keep himself warm.  

“Oh? Jungkook? What’s wrong?” I stutter, worried eyes searching his. 

“Sorry Jiah, but could I steal her from you?” he asks softly, as Jiah's face turns to mine. Hiding the way her chin was trembling, she didn't know how to reply before taking a deep breath. 

“Call me when you get back?” she nods, separating her hand from mine as I pull her into a hug.  

“I’ll bring you some pastry from the new shop Tae recommended,” I say with a reassuring smile before waving her goodbye. Making sure she got in safely, my eyes turned back to look at Jungkook’s bunny smile. 

“How did you know I was here?” I ask with a skeptical tone, slowly making my way towards the car. 

“You really don’t think I pay attention, huh?” he says teasingly before opening the passenger door. 

“You mean to tell me that you’ve memorized my schedule?” I scoff, looking up at his softened gaze. 

“Pretty much,” he replies with a grin, leaning onto the door frame before caressing my cheek with the back of his palm. 

“Hey, were you crying?” Jungkook asks, concerned, as I cover my red cheeks with my hair. Way to not be obvious, Mira! I guess, my attempt to hide the fact that I’ve been sobbing for hours failed miserably since he managed to notice it after one glance. 

“Oh, yeah, it’s nothing. I promise,” I shake my head with a soft smile before looking back up at his worried eyes. 

“Mira, you know you can always talk to me, right?” his words are followed by a deep sigh as he crouched down before my still form. 

“Of course, I know that, Koo,” I manage to let out a giggle, patting his head in hopes of making him feel at least somewhat at ease. In all honesty, however, I knew that he wasn’t fully convinced, but I also didn’t necessarily hate that. Because a small part of me hoped that maybe, his curiosity would somehow help him regain the memories he once lost.

“Anyways, where are you taking me this time?” I try to change the subject, as his eyes look back at mine. 

“I need your help,” he replies, buckling my seat belt before heading to the driver’s side. 

“May I know with what?” 

“A song. A love song,” his voice is abrupt, but still layered with tease. 

“I beg your pardon, a love song? Jungkook If you think I’m going to sedate you with some vocals then you are greatly mistaken,” I scoff with my arms folded in front of my burning chest. A love song? As if seeing him again isn’t hard enough. Now, he is giving me yet another reason to cry at night. 

“Shhhh, I’ll explain everything when we get there, just sit back and relax,” he assures me with a sly wink. 

“Mmhhm,” I nod, loosening up the seatbelt before crossing my arms over my chest. Navigating through all the turns, my mind is trying to piece together our destination, until we finally stop at a brick building near the campus gymnasium. 

“Koo, where are we?” I ask cautiously, scanning the premises as he opens the passenger door. 

“It’s a studio my buddy owns. Don’t worry the inside looks more welcoming than the outside,” Jungkook grins, locking the car as we make our way up the stairs.

“Be careful here, they’re still under construction,” he points to a hole in the wooden floor, grabbing my hand as I tip-toe behind him.

“Right, and this buddy of yours, you know how?” 

“He used to produce for the band the guys and I were in. The Bulletproof Boys,” he replies proudly until I burst into a cackle, which promptly faded the smile on his face. I couldn’t help it, I was still not over the first time he mentioned the infamous band name. The Bulletproof Boys. Peak comedy if you ask me. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you,” I try to regain my composure looking at his pouty lips. 

“I’m not laughing,”

“Okay, then I’m laughing at you,” I tease again, poking his side as he opens the door to what seemed like a small recording studio.  

“Hey, guys! Come on in,” a man’s voice welcomes us into the dimly lit room. 

“Hi hyung, thank you again,” Jungkook shakes his hand, before looking back at my flustered face. I’m usually not as awkward but something about being in a room with a stranger, Jungkook, and a hypothetical love song just did not sit well with me. 

“This is Mira, she’s going to be our female lead,” Jungkook smiles, giving me a sly wink. A lead? I really do hope he is kidding. Is today April Fool's or something? Where are the cameras? 

“Sounds good to me, who wants to go first?” the man asks the both of us, as I try my best to avoid his eye contact. Fiddling with my thumbs, Jungkook could sense that I was becoming more and more uncomfortable. So, he suggested that we go in together since it is my first time doing something like this after all. 

“Just follow me okay?” he says softly, helping me put on the headphones before handing me the lyric sheet.

“Alright, let’s just see how the melody plays out, okay? Jungkook, if you want to jump in with your vocals now, by all means. But, Mira, you can just use this take as practice. I want you to get comfortable with the lyrics,” the producer explains, giving me a thumbs up as I nod okay. 

Following Koo’s lead I tried to mumble the words under my breath, getting the feel of the song. And, to my and probably everyone’s surprise, everything was going somewhat okay? We were able to finish recording the intro in under an hour and have just gotten to the pre-chorus. After some practice, I was beginning to feel capable of managing this project, until my ears were pierced with a sudden “I love you,” projecting from Jungkook’s microphone. 

“Oh?” I let out a loud gasp, covering my mouth as my eyes shot up at his form across the booth. Searching my flushed face, he grins, pointing to the lyric sheet on my stand. Furrowing my eyebrows I begin scanning the lines with my finger, realising that he was singing one of the adlibs. However, what came after almost made me sick. Suddenly, it all felt a bit too real. Shutting my eyes, I tried to regain my composure, and within a second, I was back in that hospital room, sitting across from Koo’s frail body as his thumb caressed my palms. 

“I love you, Mira. I’ve been loving you this whole time,” his sweet words played in my head, as tears rolled down my face. Feeling the knot in my throat, I was practically screaming, but nothing came out. I couldn't do it, not then and not now. I couldn’t say the words he desperately deserved to hear. And just like that, I was back in the booth, only this time, my heaving body was plopped on the floor surrounded by both Jungkook and his producer. But, before they could ask me anything, I rushed out of the room, virtually sprinting towards the nearest washroom, where I hoped to lock myself from the outside world. Closing my eyes, all I could see were the replays of that scene before they were suddenly interrupted by the knocking on the stall door.

“Mira! Mira, open up, it’s me,” Jungkook’s voice is heavy, almost breathless. 

“Are you in the women’s washroom?” I yelp in disbelief, wiping the tears off of my face. 

“There’s no one here, come out, please,” he pleads softly, moving back as I slowly open the door. Lowering my gaze, I fold my arms over my chest before leaning back on the stall as if I didn’t just pass out in front of him. Taking a deep breath, I tried to explain myself before feeling his arms wrap around my shoulders as our bodies melted into a tight hug. Oh, Koo, if only you knew how much I missed your warm embrace. 

“Mira, please tell me what’s wrong,” Jungkook whispers, burying his face in the curve of my neck, as I feel his breath on my skin. 

“Koo, I told you, I’m fine,” I managed to lie, placing my hands on his shoulders to create at least some distance. 

“Fine? You dropped to the floor and were unresponsive,” he shouts, furrowing his eyebrows from frustration as his hands grab mine. 

“I … I think my period is coming soon. The days before are always killer,” I explain, trying to convince the both of us, before feeling his worried gaze search my scattering eyes. 

“Your period?” he confirms. 

“Mmhm,” I give him a few nods, feeling his grip on my hands slowly loosen. Tucking the stray hair behind my ear, Jungkook leans closer, tracing the trail of dried tears on my face before letting out a soft sigh. 

“Okay, I believe you. I’ll always believe you, Mira,”

Please, don't.

Previous l Index l Next

[colby-jac-cheese]

DO YOU SEE THIS CAT?!

I WAS WARNED ABOUT THIS CAT WHEN I MOVED IN WITH MY SIBLINGS 3 YEARS AGO! SHE IS F A T

SHE WAS NOT ALWAYS FAT!

According to my sister, when she and 2 of our other siblings first started college, she was still skinny! But! They moved from our dad's house, to an apartment! So she could no longer be an outside cat!

On top of that! All three of my siblings had VERY different schedules! One worked morning shift, so they were awake early morning and went to bed early evening! One was a full time college student! So they had afternoon classes, and woke up around 9 or 10 am to walk to class! Awake late morning to late evening but not obserdly late. The LAST!!! WORKED NIGHT SHIFT!!! they woke up mid-afternoon ish, and went to bed super early technically morning!

Which means!!! There were several hours when people came home/woke up where everyone else was unavailable!

Do you see where this is going???

THIS FAT FUCKING CAT WOULD PLAY UP 'woe is me. . . No one has feed me ever . . . I'm so hungry. . . .' EVERY FEW HOURS!!! WHEN ONLY ONE PERSON AT A TIME WAS AROUND!!! MEANING THIS ONE LAZY INDOOR CAT WAS BEING FED ALMOST 6 TIMES A DAY!!! And then one day they all looked at her and she was like this!

Cut to me moving in

I was warned of this! Three years ago!!! They told me 'hey! Fatass is very smart! She will gaslight you into thinking she's starving. Don't believe her!'

I thought, foolishly, 'that's fine! I'm smart! I've owned 4 Cats myself! Surely I'll be fine!'

W R O N G.

For several days, without fail, every other month! She manages to bamboozle me into feeding her!

The latest plot was uncovered today, and it is BY FAR her most insidious!

Imagine with me, if you will!

Be me: the baby of the house! Youngest sibling currently living under this roof! My operating hours are roughly 5 pm, to 6 am. Fat cat knows that she gets fed TWO. TIMES. every day! Once in the morning, and once at night!

Fat cat KNOWS she gets fed sometime after the sun comes up, but she doesn't know WHEN! She also knows that when she's hungry and ready to eat, she can go and ask for food! By. Meowing.

But she has never, IN THE 3 YEARS IVE LIVED HERE, come to ME to ask for food. Now don't get me wrong! I feed her! I am, in fact, primary cat feeder if the house! Because as the youngest it is my duty to get up and do whatever small task my siblings don't wanna do. (bring/guard cigs, feed cats, fill water bottle ect ect)

and she KNOWS I'm the feeder! Because the second she asks her parents to be fed, and they call my name, she RUNS to stare at me as I stand and start making my way to the cat food. So she is AWARE! THIS THIS IS MY JOB!

But I am not her parent. I am the interloper, the food slave, the one who doesn't pay rent and therefor gets no rights. So. She doesn't come tell me when she's hungry.

Now! Camera pan over to cats father!

my brother: the second eldest. He is very annoyed with me some mornings. Because every now and then, I stretch my waking hours to about 10 or 11 am, aka the time he wakes up for class and the few hours after the time that fat cat is SUPPOSED to be fed.

During the night, I keep my headphones on! This is me being considerate of the other people in the house. So none of my siblings wake to to the sound of my spooky ghost hunting videos or silly minecraft smps!

But this also means!!! I don't hear when the cat goes and meows in my brother's face at 8 or 9 am! Demanding to be fed! Screaming 'awaken father! I am withering away, and the sun is up! Feed me or face my wrath!' Two inches away from his face. So my brother, every now and then, wakes up and gets angry that I "let the cat" wake him up when I was already awake.

SO!

ME! BEING THE GOOD CONSIDERATE SIBLING I AM! I START LISTENING OUT FOR WHEN THE CATS START SCREAMING SO I CAN FEED THEM BEFORE THEY WAKE MY BROTHER UP!

And she recognized what I was doing. Immediately.

So. The next time she sees I'm awake . . . She goes to my brother room. And starts meowing. . . At 6 am. Technically sunrise, which is when she's 'supposed to be' fed. . . Almost 2 or 3 hours earlier than she's meant to.

I then. . . MOST OF THE TIME. . . Go to sleep. . . After I feed her. . . BECAUSE I GO TO BED AT 6 AM! And then. . . AT 8 OR 9 AM. . . SHE WAKES MY BROTHER UP TO FEED HER.

AND IM FAST ASLEEP UNABLE TO WARN HIM OF HER SCHEMES!

She ALSO attempts to do this at her evening meals! Where she demands to be fed roughly an hour earlier than normal. And I think, 'well I fed her way earlier than she's used to, so I guess it makes sense. ' so I feed her.

She's very confused on why it doesn't work the same when an hour laster she demands food again, but everyone was AWAKE! TO SEE HER BEING FED! she's like 'it worked this morning? Why not now?' And is VERY upset when we don't feed her twice at night.

FUCKING! FAT! ASS! CAT! SHE GOT ME AGAIN!

[wamtorical]

Jemima was approaching her second birthday and was slowly but surely growing bigger. While the loans were far from being fully paid off, they were progressing reasonably well and all seemed fine. In reality, Elmer's job as a nurse proved to be a difficult task, often leaving him home as late as 10pm. He thought it was ridiculous; how would he manage to spend quality time with his lonesome wife and child living like this?

In search of a means to relax, Elmer took up a new hobby: woodworking. Not only could this help save money, but it could help make money should anyone be interested in his creations. His first long-term project was an easel he'd made for Claudia, subtly encouraging her to explore a new hobby and follow in his footsteps. Given the limited activities on the farm, indulging in a little fun wouldn't harm either of them.

Still, the mounting stress was taking its toll hard on Elmer. The weight of his responsibilities became overwhelming and solemnly watching him break down as soon as he stepped foot into the bedroom was an all too common occurrence for Claudia.

She too faced her own set of challenges as she navigated the journey of motherhood, shouldering the responsibility alone most of the time due to Elmer's demanding shifts. Raising a child sure proved to be a tricky task. Jemima's peaceful and quiet nature occasionally granted her moments of respite and during these precious intervals, she managed to carve out time for herself. Leaving the task of nurturing the baby to a trusted friend, Vera Brindleton - patriarch of the proud Brindleton family - had invited her for tea in the local cafe to finally get to know the new family in town ... Even if it had been a few years by now.

The town centre held a special place in Claudia's heart. It offered a stunning view of Brindleton Bay's finest sea and alongside it, a vibrant yet not overwhelmingly crowded atmosphere. The surrounding shops and their nostalgic energy, as if you could sense the citizens that had once roamed the area years back, added to the charm of the place. During their outing, the topic of children had been brought up by Vera.

Vera: "A single babe? And a female, too? That shan't do Claudia, do you know how imporant bearing sons are for us ladies?"

"Should you feel true pride for your country and take the role of a proper English woman, you simply must give birth to future protectors of our land. I've lived by that for as long as I can remember. Do you know how many brothers I have?"

Claudia: "I appreciate the sentiment, Vera, but I believe bearing children is more than just producing human safety nets - Though believe me when I tell you I don't intend to come across hostile. Pregnancy has just never been an easy decision for me."

Vera let out a deep sigh, dismissing Claudia's logic as if it were a mere product of a child's mind in dire need of further education.

Vera: "I love my sons very much. My boys understand just as much as I do their role in society. They must protect us and I assure you they are more than willing to die for Britain. Pride naturally courses through their veins. War is not something to be wished upon, of course, I'm saying it is simply what they were born for." Vera calmly claimed, leaving Claudia wondering how Vera's youngest boy - 6 months - was able to understand the weight of his mortailty to this degree.

Claudia: "But Vera, raising children is ever so hard ... And should war come upon us, I'd hate to see any son of mine leave to fight. My child's life is surely worth more than my country."

"Then you stand alone. You have a kind heart, Claudia, but you lack the ability to see past your emotions. The greater good will always be for, as it suggests, the greater good. No matter what."

After they'd parted, Claudia felt incredibly conflicted. On one hand, she wanted to stay true to her values and on the other, she couldn't help but ponder whether there was any truth to Vera's words. One undeniable fact remained: most women in Brindleton bay possessed sizely families, so just like Vera had put it, she really did stand alone. Perhaps, she thought, it would be better to contribute to this societal norm rather than disappoint the people around her. It was just so scary ... Claudia would have to make up her mind, and fast.

📜 next / previous / first

[toothlesshat]

**Incoming rant warning**

HELLO FRIEND I AM HERE TO DISCUSS OF DONNIES AND DONATELLOS.

First of all, I know you said you were struggling with it but I think you did a good job with it. You still managed to wrap everything up in a way that (if you wanted to you) there could be another part to it or it could simply be the end. There was nothing left unsaid and I think both Donnie and Donatello managed to get the closure that they both needed at the end.

SPEAKING OF - that scene with Leonardo and Donatello, oh my gooooooodness. I was so close to crying over it. Just how Leonardo finally is able to recognize that what is needed is for him to be a brother and not a leader. It made me so emotional, I think that was my favorite scene in this whole chapter. And when they hug and Leonardo goes "we're going to be okay" emphasis on the WE'RE. I like to think that its not only their relationship he is including in that but also Raph and Mikey, like "we're going to be okay" as in all four of us as brothers and as a family because Leonardo understands now and has grown so much in the time they've been there. UGH ITS SUCH GOOD WRITING.

Back to the Rise boys now, I wanted to say I think you did a good job writing Donnie's thought process as a character. I don't think he's the easiest to write but I do think you nailed it well. The whole how he's focused on this one thing and can't see how his brothers don't understand why its a big deal. And the emphasis on "Donnie's younger brother" because (and I know some people believe that Donnie is older than Leo, i dunno why but you do you homie) Mikey is the only younger brother Donnie has. Its not like Leo who has two or Raph with three. And Donnie takes it so SERIOUSLY too. I love it so much. Then Donnie's guilt of feeling like he didn't do enough during the invasion. AND THE CLOSURE OF THEM ALL COMING TOGETHER AND UNDERSTANDING EACH OTHER WAS GOOD. I also love the part where Donnie goes over his relationship with Donatello and realizes "oh shit, i think we are friends" despite both of them trying so hard not to be on some level they kinda accidentally made a friendship.

And the appearance of Raphael and Michelangelo trying to back up their brother WAS SO GOOD. I love that they were trying to help him out in their own way even if it was such a small part of the chapter.

Honestly it was a very good wrap up, I understand it was difficult for you to write but if you did want to continue it I think you totally could. Cause after all they are still stuck in the Rise dimension. But if you don't want to that is also fine because it is your work and you can do with it what you please. Maybe you'll even come back to it at some point, who knows! But thank you for writing it! I had so much fun reading it and see how the characters interacted with each other was such a treat! :)

Ahhh thank you so much anon!! Yeah, I can’t lie this fic was really difficult to finish. I’m honestly a little surprised I managed because it was such a daunting task at some point, but I’m glad I did and I’m glad you enjoyed it!!

The scene between Leonardo and Donatello is probably my favorite in the whole story. I was originally going to put this in the notes (and forgot to lmao) but I always intended for the last chapter to be a wrap up of Leonardo’s arc as well. I felt like it was kind of incomplete since a lot of his growth has to do with the way he treats his siblings, so to truly finish his story, I had to have him reconcile with the character I feel like he had the most unresolved tension with (you can argue that should be Raphael, but they have a lot of episodes/scenes dedicated to working out their issues, whereas Donatello and Leonardo have… very little and a LOT of arguments). So that scene, while also being good for Donatello, was my favorite because I got to finish up with Leonardo, who is my favorite character overall.

And yes, when he says “we’re going to be okay” he means the whole family :)

AND YEAH YOU UNDERSTOOD WHAT I WAS GOING FOR WITH THE “oh shit oh fuck we are friends. I do care about him. Damnit.” That’s the dynamic I wanted so badly in the end because I think it’s sooo funny. And yeah, Donnie is not easy to write, but damn did I love laying out that scene with him and his brothers. I almost wish it was a scene in a separate fic because I liked it so much, but I’m also happy it can go into this series I spend a lot of time on. Their closure was very satisfying to write, I think.

Unfortunately, I can’t promise when another part will come. I won’t say I’m abandoning the series because who knows what’ll happen! Mutant Mayhem hasn’t come out yet and my inspiration could really spike when it does, or I might get a random urge to continue. Idk yet! But I’m taking a break from the series for sure. I have other stuff I want to write and dedicate time to, but I’m still thrilled you enjoyed the fic and want to see more. Seriously, thank you for reading and taking the time to send this ask <3

[cutielando]

forever | r.c.

synopsis: in which you finally get your happily ever after

my masterlist

"Will you marry me?"

That was the question that had changed your life a couple of months ago.

Your long-term boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, had finally got the courage to ask you to marry him, after being in a relationship for more than 4 years together.

He had saved up money from his job to buy you the ring with his own earned money, not with the money his family had.

The beautiful diamond ring has been beautifully sitting on your ring finger ever since the night he got on one knee, there being very few occasions when you would take it off. You often found yourself just staring at the jewel on your finger, mesmerized by the diamond and what it signified for you and Rafe.

A first step to your forever life together, side by side.

Planning for your wedding had been the most stressful, yet most beautiful period of your life up to that point. Getting to organize the wedding of your dreams with Rafe was magical, building up the ever growing excitement for the fast-approaching wedding date.

Before you knew it, you were waking up on the morning of your wedding day, stretching out to find Rafe's side of the bed empty and cold. 

You sighed, remembering that your families had insisted that you two don't see each other on your wedding day before the aisle, and you didn't want to admit it, but you missed seeing Rafe already and you had barely just opened your eyes.

A ding from your phone made you snap out of your thoughts and pick it up, smiling once you saw that it was a text from Rafe.

good morning angel, i hope you slept well <3 i know you're probably sad we didn't get to wake up next to each other, i'm just as hurt by that. but look on the bright side, in a couple of hours we'll finally be married and wake up next to each other every morning for the rest of our lives. i love you and i can't wait to see you walking down the aisle to me <33

Your heart could have exploded just because of that message, butterflies erupting in your stomach. Even after so many years of knowing each other and being together, Rafe still managed to make you shy and flustered every time.

You quickly typed out a response before you heard a soft knock on your bedroom door.

"Honey? Are you awake?" the quiet and muffled voice of your mother asked from behind the door, prompting you to get up and open the door.

"Hi mom" your smile was contagious, but your mother's was 10 times more so than yours.

Ever since she learned the news of your engagement, she couldn't stop talking about it and smiling constantly, over the moon that her daughter was finally getting married.

"Morning honey. How are you feeling?" she quickly looked left and right to make sure Rafe wasn't anywhere near you before she walked in and closed the door behind her.

Your mother and Rafe's sisters were tasked with guarding you from seeing Rafe and your brother along wit your father were tasked with keeping him away from you.

A task that was going to prove to be difficult because Rafe couldn't stand being away from you for long.

"Nervous, but excited at the same time. I just can't believe I'm really getting married in a few hours" you were giddy, holding your mother's hands excitedly.

"Oh, my sweet girl. You're all grown up" your mother's voice started quivering and tears suddenly appeared in her eyes, making you shush her and bring her in a hug.

"Mom, please don't cry. You're going to make me cry too" you said as you pouted, hugging your mother close. 

Ever since your mother had met Rafe, she had been sure that he was going to be the man you were going to end up marrying. Fast-forward, turns out she had been right.

Several hours later, with the help of your mother, Wheezie and Sarah, you were all glammed up in your dress, getting ready for your father to come and get you.

A knock on your door signaled that it was time for the ceremony, making your stomach churn with nerves.

"Are you ready sweetheart?" your father asked you as he gave you your arm, standing in front of the still-closed doors of the church.

You let out a big sigh and nodded, giving him a convincing smile. You held the bouquet in your other hand, feet tapping against the floor impatiently.

Once you heard the music starting and the doors slowly started to open, you knew the moment had finally come. Everyone in the room turned around to look at you, big gasps echoing through the big church.

However, your eyes were only on Rafe, who was waiting for you at the alter with your brother and Topper by his side.

"Hi" you mouthed to him once you made eye contact, making him smile widely and wiping a tear that had escaped from his eyes.

The walk towards Rafe felt like an eternity to you, when in reality it had only been a minute. You had got lost in Rafe's eyes, your attention only focusing in on him.

"Take care of my girl" your father told your soon-to-be husband once you reached the alter and Rafe took your hand from your father.

"I promise, sir" he said, gently helping you up the few steps.

"Hello, everyone" the reverend began speaking. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage between these two exceptional young people, Y/N and Rafe. I can see how excited the bride and the groom are, so I won't make this any longer than it should be. Y/N, Rafe, have you prepared your vows?" you both nodded, and then the reverend motioned for you to go first.

You let out a breath, suddenly a little bit nervous. But as you looked into Rafe's eyes, you suddenly relaxed and realized there was nothing to be nervous about, not when it came to him.

"Rafe, my love, I can't even begin to explain to you how much I love and appreciate you. You came into my life at a point when I didn't believe that love was real, that I was worthy of being so passionately and irrevocably loved by someone. But you showed me what real love is, you taught me to push myself and achieve every goal I set for myself. You always push me to be my best self and you have helped me grow as a person and mature. You always know what to say, you can always read me even when I don't want to say anything, you know me better than I know myself. I promise to love and to cherish you from this forward and until the day we are no longer going to be on this planet. I love you and I can't wait to see what the rest of our lives looks like" tears had started pouring down yours and Rafe's cheeks, making everyone in the audience also tear up.

"How can I top that?" Rafe joked, making your families laugh as well. "Y/N, the love I have for you is consuming, it's so strong I don't even know what to do with it sometimes. You have helped me become a better man, take responsibilities for my actions and be more understanding of life. You showed me that I had a purpose in this world and that made me realize my life's purpose is to love you and to show you how much you mean to me. I know I'm not the easiest person to be with, but I'm trying to be better for you every single day, to show you that I deserve to be married to you because you only deserve the best. I promise to love you and care for you for the rest of our lives, keep you safe and I will make it my life's mission to make sure you never lack anything. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life by your side, baby. I love you so much"

Everyone in the room was crying by the end, including your father who you had never seen crying before.

"The rings?" the reverend turned to your brother, who fished them out of his pocket.

"Y/N, do you take Rafe Cameron to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?" 

"I do" you proudly exclaimed and slid the ring on Rafe's left hand.

"Rafe, do you take Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do" Rafe slid the ring on your left hand as well, taking both of your hands in his after.

"By the power invested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride" Rafe didn't waste another second before he pulled you to him, taking your face in his hands and kissing you deeply.

The whole room started cheering and clapping, but you didn't hear anything else around you.

You only felt Rafe kissing you, sharing your first moment as husband and wife.

When you both pulled away, whispers of 'I love you' were shared between you, quiet so nobody could hear.

And as you both walked out of the church hand-in-hand, you knew that you were ready for anything life had to offer you as long as you had each other.

Mr. and Mrs. Cameron against the world, forever.

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[bridge-supplies]

#2: Humanity as a History of Tool Use

I'm an engineer at heart. How some writers must write, some poets must sing, and some artists must paint to demonstrate what they care about, I find myself building Android apps instead.

It probably all started with LEGO. Realizing as a child that pre-built parts could be recombined in infinite ways is surely a way to foster creativity and tinkering. But it didn't really hit its stride until my brother introduced my elementary school self to GameMaker. Going from placing physical bricks to digital ones (their "code blocks" visual programming language) was a natural progression.

Going from code blocks to real blocks of code was yet another step. GML was close enough to standard programming languages that adopting a Computer Science degree alongside Psychology in college became within reach. Who could've known that building a juvenile top-down RTS called Balls of War would ultimately secure me an Android job at a tech startup with a decent work/life balance and room to keep experimenting?

Soon, I found myself concocting ideas for apps using whatever new Android features were available at the time. Realizing that code could create tangible experiences you could literally place in the palm of someone's hand was a pivotal moment. Practically anyone with a laptop and an idea could, in theory, build something that could fundamentally change how we interact with each other as human beings.

And then I stopped huffing the copium. The mid/late 2010s began to dirty the once-hopeful image of our Silicon Valley Saviors. How could we believe technology is inherently a force for good when tools are being intentionally designed to manipulate and extract value from others for the profits of the few? How can we trust digital social spaces with our communities and collective humanity when the platforms themselves are built with anti-human biases from the start?

The only constant that every tool has is the intentionality and bias of its wielder. Anything can be a weapon or a salve depending on who is giving it power and attention.

I'm a believer in the ideology that groups of humans help each other best when they make the right choices the easy ones. Those choices can be made even easier by intentionally designing tools that increase their accessibility and support the solidarity of its users.

When I review my prior attempts at tool building, I've seen my intentionality grow. But something has always felt missing.

Material Typer (2015)

A colorful note taking app with basic color filtering and early Material Design support. Helped secure my first job out of college!

KVAN Radio (2016)

On a week-long work-study program for an Arizona ecovillage/cult my friend was a part of, I built some basic task management software and an app for their local radio station.

Toro (2018)

My first foray into the wild world of wireless inter-app communication. This was a note sharing app I built for my family for Christmas which let you share private messages with each other by tapping your phones together.

Degree (2018)

More of a concept than a fully fledged app. I wanted to use my NFC knowledge from Toro to build a fully in-person social network, where you can only update your friends' information (and info about their networks) by connecting phones over NFC in person.

Bool, Condivi (2019-2020)

Further experimenting with Android's wireless capabilities, I attempted to build my own library called Condivi which would make NFC, QR code scanning, and Nearby Connections sharing (WiFi/BT) easier to develop for. My first attempt at implementing it, Bool, was a basic contact sharing app where you'd scan a QR code to initiate encrypted wireless data transfers with your nearby contacts.

Common (2021) (Google Play)

The pandemic brought about a whole new world, and forced me to change my thinking. If we could no longer connect in person as easily, how could technology still help us be closer to each other? First, we have to start with getting closer to ourselves. Common is a habit tracking app, where you observe your motivations over time for the most important activities you want to accomplish each day. As you use the app, you learn more about yourself.

Archetypist & Adepticadian (2021) (Google Play 1, 2)

With my introduction to the density of the Law of One material, I found myself wanting a way to organize the information provided in a more intuitive format. What resulted were two apps: Archetypist to explain their version of the Major Arcana of the Tarot, and Adepticadian to follow your own "adept cycles" to anticipate both catalyst and reflection.

TeamBuilder (2022)

My idea for Bridge Supplies began with TeamBuilder: an app built for managing and organizing decentralized teams of aligned individuals. Heavily inspired by the approaches outlined in Better Work Together (such as the Group Leadership Chart), the goals of TeamBuilder were to show how 1) everyone has leadership qualities and 2) those qualities are most effective when group leadership composition is well balanced.

Class Warfare (2023) (Google Play Private Beta)

My love of strategy games reared its ugly head once more, as I found myself suddenly obsessed with recreating the turn-based strategy game Fire Emblem into a Jetpack Compose-built native Android app. I wanted the game to have a unique win condition as well: you can only win once every one of your units has "Advanced" to their upgraded form by getting a kill, creating an interesting meta of stronger units protecting weaker units until they can get their own Advanced skills.

The common theme I have seen through many of my projects: from my early abandoned game concepts made with GameMaker, to my more recent abandoned app concepts made for Android, is that I have tried doing it mostly alone. Sure, I have gotten some feedback from others, but never tried expanding to a wider audience, or fully fleshing out an idea to completion instead of just being satisfied with the tech demo.

That is where you come in, dear reader. My goal here is to build tools, align them with what I believe to be pro-human values, and make them accessible and relatable for the masses. This space shall be our collective testing ground, and I couldn't be more excited to share it with you, fellow human.

[lady-literature]

Found Family

holy shit did this one get way out of hand. Don’t expect them all to be this long because hot damn this is a monster compared to literally everything else but it just wouldn’t stop

(should I have expected this? probably. we all know how I am about found family.)

anyway enjoy 4.5k words ig

based on this post | @maribatmarch-2k21 | find more here

***

When Marinette had been chosen to intern with Monsieur Wayne’s PA, she hadn’t been expecting anything special. Sure, the Waynes were an odd breed and generally considered strange, but Marinette hadn’t actually expected to have much contact with them—if any at all.

She was here to earn credit for her business degree.

Instead, she has… well. She thinks she’s been somehow inducted into the Wayne family, mostly on accident and kind of as a joke.

That is, until it very much wasn’t.

***

Her first mistake, she supposes, was being too good at her job.

Marinette is an old hand at keeping track of multiple moving parts and riding herd on stubborn people who’d otherwise be too distracted or goofing off. (She was the Court’s leader for more than just being the latest in a long line of Ladybugs, after all.)

After the first two days shadowing Selina—“please, darling. Ms Kyle is so formal”—and learning the broad strokes of the job, Marinette felt confident enough to dig her nails in and get to work. Selina spent most of her time dedicated to international tasks and arranging Monsieur Waynes’ private affairs—all of which was highly classified and not discussed with Marinette—so she turned her attention to inter-company affairs.

Her first order of business was personally meeting with as many people in managerial positions as she could get. Not a requirement for the job per se, but these were people she’d have to interact with often and Maman had always stressed the importance of building connections in the workplace.

“People,” she would say, “are far more willing to do what you want them to when you’ve endeared yourself to them.”

So Marinette takes that advice and spends her breaks and lunches charming employees and giving baked goods to security guards and learning the names of the cleaning crew. She doesn’t speak to the department heads, because Selina handles their correspondences, but everyone else is free game as far as she’s concerned.

She becomes a well-recognized face astoundingly quickly.

***

Marinette probably should’ve seen the rumors coming.

It’s common practice in not only the Wayne family, but in most business conglomerates, for the children to quickly rise through the ranks of their company—if not just handed a high position right off the bat.

It took barely a month before the eldest was all but running Human Resources, and the second was placed as Head of Security practically out of nowhere. Monsieur Drake is the youngest (and most terrifyingly calculated) CEO to ever hold Wayne Enterprises, even if he does share the title with his father.

The other three are still too young or have yet to express an interest in the company, but people say it’s only a matter of time.

The track record speaks for itself, even if Marinette wishes it didn’t.

As a girl who’d come mostly out of nowhere and found herself with far more divisive sway in the company than she had any right to, it’s no wonder everyone thinks she’s some sort of secret Wayne finally coming out of hiding.

Marinette had nearly choked on her coffee when Selina dropped the bomb of that particular tidbit of company gossip.

“Most think you’ve been unofficially adopted,” Selina tells her, looking far too amused for Marinette’s liking. “Seeing as you’re too old for official avenues now.”

Marinette looks up warily from the schedule she’s rearranging. Selina had all but shoved the thing at her a month ago when she started suggesting more efficient ways of managing the CEOs’ valuable time.

“Only most? Does that mean the rest have common sense?”

Selina’s grin widens even further, if that’s possible, and Marinette regrets her question even before the older woman starts speaking.

“Oh, of course not!” she laughs delightedly. “The rest are hoping to hear news of wedding bells. It’s high time someone swept a Wayne off the market, don’t you think?”

***

“So you’re the new little sister I keep hearing about.”

Marinette stares up through narrowed eyes at the brightly smiling Dick Grayson. In her stomach, there are already the beginnings of resignation starting to form. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you!”

This man is going to bring her nothing but trouble. She can tell.

***

Dick takes a liking to her. And she, against her better judgment, finds herself doing the same to him.

It’s a little hard not to, if she’s being honest. He’s bright and bubbly and brings her bagels during his morning break without her ever having asked.

It takes practically no time at all before Marinette considers him a friend, relaxing when he’s near and laughing openly at his ridiculous jokes. Despite being the head of HR, he’s not great at the whole ‘professional’ thing and often employees will walk by to find him draped across a chair or balancing precariously on the edge of her desk while she tries and fails to get some work done while he’s around.

It really doesn't help all of the ‘Marinette is a Wayne’ rumors running around. Especially when Dick starts pointedly calling her every variation of ‘little sister’ that he can think of just to annoy her (and, she knows, because he thinks the entire situation hilarious).

***

Three weeks after befriending Dick, Selina all but shoves her into Monsieur Drake’s office and, in no uncertain words, says, “He’s your problem now.”

Marinette blinks at what she can describe as nothing other than a disaster area and just… sighs.

Tim blinks back at her.

The motion is somehow both completely blank and filled with an uncomfortable amount of knowing at the same time. There is also, she notices, a frankly ludicrous amount of concealer caked beneath his eyes and more coffee cups scattered on every flat surface than Marinette has ever seen in her life.

She knows his schedule like the back of her hand seeing as she spends hours of her day pouring over it to make sure everything runs smoothly. He has no prior engagements for the next three hours.

“You’re not going to take a nap just because I ask, are you?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not.”

She nods, having expected the answer; her phone was already at her ear before he even finished speaking. “Hey, Dick!” she greets, sounding brighter than she feels at the moment, and watches as Tim stiffens in front of her. “Yeah, no. I was just wondering if you’re busy right now.” She pauses. “Oh, good! Can you come up to Tim’s office for me? Yeah, I need you to knock him out so I can fix his dumpster fire of an office.”

Tim has since started waving his hands frantically at her, panic setting in behind his eyes.

Marinette stares at him, unmoved. “Thanks, Dick! You’re the best!”

The silence after she hangs up is deafening.

“I don’t know if I should be impressed by the ease you’re manipulating me or pissed off that you’re doing it in the first place.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Does your decision have any bearing on my future employment?”

His eyes squint. “…No.”

Marinette shrugs, mind already whirling with what she’ll need to get done first and calculating how long she’ll likely have to get it done. “Then I think you should skip right over both of those and land on resignation as quickly as possible, Monsieur, because you’re going to have to get used to it regardless.”

It’s silent for a long moment, and she worries for just a second that she’s severely crossed some sort of line. Then Tim bursts out laughing instead of, you know, firing her like he probably should have.

“Oh, yeah. You’re going to fit right in here.”

Marinette doesn’t ask where the ‘here’ is. She’s pretty sure she already knows.

***

It takes ten days for Marinette to wrangle Tim’s life into something resembling order. His office is clean and organized to his liking. She’s developed a system of filing so that all paperwork goes through her and is quickly sorted into ‘can be handled by Marinette’, ‘forge his signature and tell him about it later’, and ‘actually important enough to have Tim read through’.

His schedule is the most efficient it’s ever been and Marinette is quickly honing the skill of getting him properly dressed and out of his office in under thirty minutes. (Dick is, thankfully, a great teacher and has little to no qualms about giving her the key to all his little brother’s weaknesses.)

Selina stares at her when Marinette all but drags Tim from his office, a folder tucked neatly under his arm and the sugary monstrosity of a caffeinated beverage she’s bribed him with in her own, with a whole ten minutes to spare before his meeting with the Board.

“My dear,” she says solemnly, “you are positively magic.”

She doesn’t even look up from where she’s simultaneously wrangling Tim’s hair into submission and laying his tie down flat. “You have no idea.”

***

She knows Tim is capable of professionality. She’s seen the cool facade he pulls up in front of the Board members and the kind but impersonal smile he uses on the employees of Wayne Enterprises. (He is not the Ice Prince of the Wayne family, but Marinette believes he should have some equally ruthless sounding title.) He is aloof and sharp and every inch the businessman people praise him to be.

She’s seen it. And yet… 

“Monsieur. Why are all the Lexcorp contracts I gave you done in crayon?”

Tim doesn’t stop messing with his Rubix cube or even look up at her when he says, “Cause deadbeat fathers don’t deserve the respect of a pen.”

Marinette is very tired. She does not have time for this. “What are you talking about?”

“Lex is a bitchass absentee dad and I live to inconvenience him.”

“What about inconveniencing me?” she all but whines. “I can’t hand him these!”

That does make Tim look up at her, eyes wide with false innocence and mouth pouting up at her. “But sister dearest, I’m your little brother. It’s my job to inconvenience you.”

Growling in frustration is probably an inappropriate reaction to the situation.

But, Marinette thinks, so is the fact that both of the Waynes she associates with regularly seem hellbent on convincing the world that she too, is a Wayne, so.

(Is this how Alya felt dealing with the twins? Cause if so, Marinette takes back every joke she ever made—little siblings are a bitch.)

***

She meets Damian without warning.

Honestly, she never really expected to meet him at all but, well.

She finds him in Monsieur Wayne’s office, sitting at his father’s desk and doing something that she thinks is vaguely illegal, but she’s not about to tell her Boss a dozen times over how to parent his children.

Damian is a near-perfect copy of his father with darker skin and calculating green eyes. There’s also a more potent aura of danger around the child than there is around his father, like Damian hasn’t yet learned how to hide behind his public persona as his father had.

Or, Marinette looks at the teen thoughtfully, perhaps he just chooses not to.

“Monsieur Wayne,” she greets. Children like to be treated like adults, she knows, and Marinette doesn’t think this one is any different. “Selina hadn’t told me you’d be in the office today.”

“I don’t run my schedule by her,” he says flatly. A response she expected considering Dick’s stories.

“Of course not,” she agrees.

He finally deigns to look up at her and something flits across his expression, too fast for her to pick up on it. “Are those for Father? Bring them here, I’ll deal with them in his absence.”

Marinette raises her eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s wise Monsieur.”

Damian scowls and sticks his hand out. “I’m perfectly capable of forging Father’s signature. Give them here.”

She does not move and, instead, lets her lips quirk up into the smile she’s been fighting since she stepped in here.

“I don’t doubt it,” she tells him, and she doesn't. Forgery seems exactly like the kind of skill a child who broke into the CEO’s office of a multi-billion dollar company would have. “But you’ll find that all forging of signatures has been finished for the day and that these,” she shakes the sheaf of papers lightly, “actually require your father’s attention.”

He snorts disbelievingly and it says a lot about Marinette’s life up until now that the blatant display of disrespect doesn’t piss her off but instead reminds her of Chloé and of the fact that she still needs to reschedule their spa day. It's been too long since they spent time together in person.

“Well,” she pauses and eyes the papers thoughtfully. “‘Requires’ in the sense that its information needed to trounce the Board when they start spouting off greedy bullshit about cutting corners on our humanitarian efforts. I’m not sure how much of it is actually useful for anything besides that.” She shrugs. “But homework is homework, yes?”

That gets her a thoughtful once-over. His hand lowers and he then turns back to whatever he’s messing with on his father’s computers.

“Very well,” he concedes. “Father will be back in approximately thirteen minutes. You can leave the papers and I’ll inform him of their… importance.” He smirks, but it’s more like he’s letting her in on a joke than anything else.

Marinette smiles back as she sets the folder on the desk, feeling, oddly, like she’s passed some sort of test.

***

The day after, both Dick and Tim are waiting for her with what looks like an entire bakery laid out in her workspace.

“Uh,” she says eloquently, setting her purse down on her chair because there’s not a single open space on her desk not filled with some kind of pastry. “What’s all this?”

She looks up to find neither Dick nor Tim has stopped staring at her since she walked in. “We heard you met Damian yesterday,” Dick starts warily, like he’s scared of her reaction.

The response does not abate her confusion. 

“Yes, I did,” she says slowly. “That does not explain all… this.” She waves a hand, trying to encompass them as well as the state her desk is in.

The two brothers share a look.

“It’s a bribe,” Tim tells her simply and Marinette is taken aback for all of a second before her eyes suddenly narrow.

Dick cuts in hastily before she can say anything. “It’s more of an apology, really. For Damian’s behavior.”

But Marinette is confused and frustrated and just a bit offended by the apparent not-bribe at this point. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, but it only does so much.

“Damain’s behavior was fine,” she tells them with measured neutrality. “You two, on the other hand, are being weird and it’s freaking me out.” She crosses her arms expectantly. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

Appearing from out of nowhere, Selina drapes herself along Marinette’s shoulders and snags a raspberry scone. “I do believe,” she says as if sharing a secret, “That they are trying to keep you from quitting, kitten.”

Marinette wrinkles her nose. “Why would I quit? I like this job.”

She also likes the Waynes (in general, if not right then) and she likes Selina. The woman was a good mentor who didn’t shy away from the dirtier parts of the job and taught Marinette all she knew. (Even the bits, she noticed, that had little to nothing to do with being a personal assistant and were more likely to be found in the repertoire of a thief.

But, Marinette is in possession of her own sticky fingers and knows how to not ask questions, so. You know—curiosity killed the cat and all.)

She doesn’t voice any of that, but Selina, at least, knows it anyway. Marinette isn’t quiet about her gratitude after all.

“First meetings with the youngest Wayne don’t often go well,” Selina tells her. “In fact, I think he has a habit of making the interns cry.”

Dick makes some kind of offended noise. “Hey! He hasn’t done that since he was twelve!”

Tim elbows him in the ribs and Marinette makes a vaguely skeptical face at all three of them before deciding it wasn’t worth it. She has actual work to get done today and pastries to get rid of before she can even start.

She pats affectionately at Selina’s hand before grabbing as many boxes as she can hold. “Come on you two,” she says to the brothers. “You’re going to help me hand these out to the rest of the company.”

Dick immediately starts doing as told but Tim hesitates, humming thoughtfully. “You know that’s not going to help your whole ‘I’m not actually a Wayne’ thing, right?”

She glares at him. It doesn’t stop Tim from grinning like the utterly unrepentant little shit he is.

***

Things are quiet after the Damian Incident for a whole two weeks. It’s the longest lull Marinette has had since she first started and became somehow involved with the Waynes.

It ends because Dick finds out about the crush Marinette has been nursing on the Head of Security for three months now.

The Head of Security who is Jason Todd: second eldest Wayne sibling and Dick’s brother.

He takes it better than expected.

(Almost, she thinks later, a little too well.)

***

Despite her friendship with Dick and Tim—or perhaps because of it?—Jason had never seemed very interested in her. At first, Marinette had shrugged and counted it as a win; there was one Wayne, at least, who neither found her situation funny nor used it to poke fun at her.

They were on friendly terms, she supposed. Security has always been one of her more regular stops in the building, so she’d spoken to him often enough. He liked complaining that she spoiled his team rotten with all her treats.

But she also noticed that he likes her cherry danishes, so.

And then she noticed how crooked his grin was when he smiled. And how he seemed to have an arsenal of nicknames for everyone he knew. And the small collection of classic romance novels filled with sticky notes he tries and fails to hide in his desk. And, and, and.

It was around the time she began unconsciously memorizing his schedule based on when he was and was not there for her pastry deliveries, that she realized she may have made a misstep somewhere.

Jason was stubborn and passionate and flipped between overly proper and crass light a damn light switch. He was also, as stated, very much not interested in her.

Not that she would’ve pursued him anyway. He was a coworker as well as her friends’ brother.

Now if only one of said brothers could understand that.

“You should ask him out,” Dick suggests not for the first time and Marinette sighs, also not for the first time.

She loves Dick—she truly does—but he has been an aggravating level of unhelpful since he found out about Marinette’s latest romantic disaster.

“I’m definitely not doing that.”

Dick groans, like she’s being the unreasonable one. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“Because I don’t like embarrassing myself?” she asks rhetorically. “Not everyone can have a fairy tale romance like you and Wally.”

He throws his coffee stirrer at her. “We are not a fairy tale.”

She shoots him a flat look. She’s heard Dick talk about Wally and Tim’s told her all the stories and she was there when he and Wally finally got their shit together. Dick was unbearable for an entire week with his gooey, lovestruck new lease on life.

“You two are the definition of fairy tale. You two make fairy tales look like trashy romance novels.”

He opens his mouth to argue the point before forcibly cutting himself off. “No. Stop distracting me. We’re not talking about that; we’re talking about you and Jason.”

“There is no ‘me and Jason’,” she reminds him through her clenched teeth.

“Not yet,” he says optimistically. Like it’s a fact, like he knows something she doesn’t.

He makes her want to slam her face into a wall. Truly, he does.

***

Dick stops running his HR papers up to her office. Instead, he’s somehow convinced Jason to play errand boy for him even though he literally never looks happy about it. What used to be a flimsy excuse for Dick to slack off for a few minutes and gossip with her has now turned into awkward silence as Jason drops off the papers and leaves without even a ‘hello’.

During their shared breaks, Dick takes to orchestrating ‘chance encounters’ between her and Jason, all but shoving them into each other (and even actually shoving that one time).  She catches Jason shooting dark looks at Dick every time he does it, and if she’d been holding any iota of hope at this point, it’s been smashed to dust. Jason obviously knows of his brother’s meddling and isn’t happy about it.

But Dick just can’t take the hint.

Every failed plan of his makes him steadily worse about it all—more frantic and frustrated and like he wants to strangle her for her stubbornness. (The last feeling being more than mutual.)

Dick’s meddling starts to make her and Jason’s previously friendly, if distant, relationship awkward and embarrassing. With every pointed comment, she gets closer to just punching Dick in the face. Or, maybe, she’ll just tell Wally who really ate all the chocolate strawberry macaroons she made; it’d certainly be more devastating.

***

It all comes to head on a Thursday, after most employees have left for the day. 

They run into each other in a breakroom, and she watches as Jason suddenly goes stiff, eyes flicking over her shoulder to no doubt scan for Dick. That single action makes her expression sour and she slams her empty mug down with more force than was necessary.

For Kwamis sake, he looks like a cornered animal. An image not helped by the way he jumps a foot in the air and stares at her like he’s worried she’ll suddenly lunge at him.

“Can we agree this is ridiculous?” she says abruptly. “I don’t know what Dick is trying to accomplish with his wingman schtick, but we both know it’s not going to work. Can we just… agree that he’s an idiot?”

A complicated look crosses Jason’s face before he snorts wryly. “Yeah, we can agree on that. Dickie-boy has always been a few sandwiches short a picnic.”

“I know things have been awkward between us lately, and I’m sorry about that, but I hope we can keep being friends?” she says hopefully.

“What in the world do you have to be sorry about?” he asks before she can start catastrophizing about the bewildered expression he makes at her words. “It’s not your fault.”

The smile she shoots him is rueful and she shakes her hand in an ‘ehh’ type gesture. “Kinda is. And I understand if the-” she makes a vague gesture between them that she hopes properly conveys ‘my giant, stupid crush on you’, “you know, is too much for you. Just say the word I’ll try and keep out of your way.”

She’s trying to be comforting or understanding or something like that, but all her words seem to do is make him upset. “Absolutely not,” he insists. “Sunshine, you are not going to change your routine just to make me feel better.”

Marinette crosses her arms, frowning up at him. “Why shouldn’t I? If I’m making you uncomfortable-”

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Uncomfort- Marinette. ” She jolts a bit at the use of her name. She doesn’t think he’s used it since her second week at W.E. “I’m not sure who made you think otherwise—and if it was Dick just tell me cause I’ll kick his ass —but barring the fact that I still enjoy your friendship regardless of any… feelings-” Marinette concentrates very hard on not showing emotion when he says that, “-it’s not your responsibility to deal with it.”

Okay, but… that makes no sense. Of course her feelings were her responsibility, that’s the whole point of them being hers.

“If it’s not mine, then whose responsibility is it then?” she asks, wondering where the hell his train of thought is running.

“Mine, obviously.”

She gives him a look, complete with narrowed eyes and thinly veiled judgment. “What? Is this some kind of gentleman’s martyr complex? Is that what’s happening right now?”

Jason huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in the sound. “If me taking responsibility for my own damn feelings is a martyr complex then sure,” he snarks, not unkindly. More like he’s trying to protect himself by retreating behind a sour attitude.

Her mouth is halfway around a retort when his words catch up to her brain and she freezes.

“Your feelings?” she repeats. “Your feelings for… me?”

His voice is carefully neutral when he says, “Those would be the ones.”

Her mouth opens and closes and opens again. “You like me? Seriously?”

His face spasms at the question, starting at anger before he properly looks at her and the surprised expression on her face. He pales.

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” she squeaks, something she hasn’t done since she was fifteen. “Well Dick said but I didn’t believe him!”

And fuck, she thinks. This means Dick knew the whole damn time, didn’t he? Oh, she is so going to kill him the second she gets the chance.

Jason runs a hand down his face, covering his mouth as he gathers his bearings. Suddenly, his eyes shoot back open and land on her. “Wait. If you didn't know, then what the hell were you talking about just now?”

She blushes to the tips of her ears and buries her face in her hands so she doesn’t have to look at him. It was easy when she thought he’d figured it out himself. It’s harder now that she has to tell him. “I- I was talking about my crush on you.”

He’s quiet for so long that she gets antsy and peeks out from behind her fingers to see his expression. He’s still looking at her, but now there’s a wide, crooked smile on his face. The expression softens something in her chest and she lowers her hands.

“Really?” he asks, leaning closer.

Marinette nods, feeling a small smile spread across her lips.

He jolts forward, hands reaching for her before suddenly stopping just shy of touching. She startles a bit at the motion but doesn’t move away.

Jason licks his lips, smile smaller but no less bright. “I- can I?”

She blinks. “Can you what?”

“Kiss you.”

The blush returns full force, but with it also comes a smile, giddy and bright. She nods and no sooner than she does, is he swooping down to pull her into a toe-curling kiss. His hands cup her face with a tenderness that makes her smile, makes her giddy, and it’s not long before they’re both smiling too wide to actually kiss and are forced to break apart.

His hands fall to her back, practically engulfing her, and his chin drops onto her head. It’s warm and cozy and she thinks she could so very easily get used to this.

Later, they’re going to have to deal with Dick and Tim and Selina and the teasing they’ll no doubt have to endure—not to mention how much worse the rumors are going to get—but right now? Right now Marinette pulls Jason back down for another kiss and very pointedly doesn’t think about it.

[boowanie]

Pairing: Ceo!Wonwoo x Secretary!reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff-ish

Warning: Suggestive

W/C: 2k+

Summary: Falling in love with your boss was never on your agenda, or so you thought.

Eri’s note: I’ve been dying to write a ceo!wonwoo scenario and here she is!! aaah, i hope you beans enjoy this! I think this is my favourite of mine so far 💘

The cold rain seeped into your clothes as you padded your way back to your empty apartment. You were absolutely exhausted. Words were not enough to explain how tired you were of your boss but being broke left you with no choice but to stick around as Wonwoo’s secretary.

When you first met him, you couldn’t deny that he made your heart skip a beat with how beautiful he was. However, as soon as he opened his mouth, the image you momentarily created in your mind was shattered. He was always working you harder than your other co-workers even when the tasks weren’t even your responsibility.

You finally caught sight of your apartment building and a small sigh of relief left your lips. You were definitely drenched when you reached your apartment door, shivering as you opened your door. On a normal day, you would have slipped your shoes off at the front door but tonight was different. You went straight to the bathroom, leaving wet footsteps and drops of water along the way. The warmth of the water coming out of your shower fogged up your small bathroom as you finally discarded the wet clothes you were in.

Once you stepped into the shower, your thoughts led you back to the events that happened before you walked home.

—

Wonwoo was yelling at one of his employees yet again. You could hear him demanding for the work that he tasked her to do. You flinched as your co-worker finally snapped, yelling at him with the same tone.

“You know what, I fucking quit Jeon Wonwoo. Fuck you and fuck your stupid company! I’d rather be jobless than stay here for another day. I don’t know how y/n has managed to stay by your side for the past 5 years.”

You and the other employees turned towards the door as soon as she stepped out, visible tears tumbling down her cheeks. Some of your co-workers stood up to comfort her while some avoided her incase Wonwoo saw. You, on the other hand, were called into his office. You sighed, picking up the files he wanted you to sort out during lunch.

“Close the door,” he murmured as soon as you stepped into his office. You did as you were told and walked slowly to his table where he was leaning back against his chair with his eyes tightly shut. You carefully placed the files on his desk, not wanting to disturb your boss’ silence.

“Can you stay for awhile?” he whispered, eyes opening to stare at you. You blinked back, your eyes softening at the sight of him and the dark circles that were visible under his eyes. You nodded as you took the spare seat and pulling it over to Wonwoo’s side.

“What do you need help with, Mr. Jeon?”

“Just need you here to calm me down.” He stated, catching his lower lip between his teeth.

—

When you turned the shower off, you came to a conclusion that Jeon Wonwoo liked to confuse you. He confused you with his actions. Despite the fact that he gave you more work than anybody else in the company, he also cared about you. Wonwoo didn’t mind when you handed files to him late nor did he care whenever he saw you nodding off at your desk. Your co-workers noticed how more lenient he was on you but they never made a comment because they saw how much work Wonwoo gave you on a daily basis.

You finally sat down on your sofa, ordering some food to eat to reward yourself after Wonwoo made you stay behind again to help him with some documents he was reviewing. You remember trying to stiffle numerous yawns as you worked through some documents and you could feel the frustration building up within him.

“You know what, just go home y/n. It’s clear to me that you’d rather be sleeping,” he said, plopping the loose papers on his desk before turning towards you. Your eyes widened at the sharp gaze he threw at you and you felt your heart momentarily clench.

“Won-, Mr. Jeon, it’s past midnight. I think we both need to rest,” you stared back, watching as he ran his fingers through his hair. He leaned back against his chair, watching you with blank eyes.

“Just go.” He turned his body away from you, leaving you staring at his back that was now hunched over his wooden desk.

“Fine.”

—

Once your food delivery arrived, you took your spot on your sofa again, watching reruns of your favourite show. You sighed as your mind began wandering back to Wonwoo.

“Fuck this,” you grabbed your phone, dialing the man that was occupying your mind.

On the third ring, he finally picked up. You could hear some shuffling in the background as you asked if he had gone home. You waited for his answer as silence consumed you both.

“Can I come over?” he whispered, hearing sniffles coming from his end. Your heart clenched at the sadness evident in his voice.

“I-i’ll leave the door unlocked,” you whispered back.

—

Again, Jeon Wonwoo confused you as he began to nip at the soft skin of your neck. Your hands ran through his hair, tugging his locks softly as he continued to pepper your neck with wet kisses, sighing as he left a subtle bruise on your collarbone.

“Talk to me sweetheart,” he groaned against your neck. You moaned when he slid the straps of your bra down your shoulders, loving his gentle touches that burned agaisnt your skin. However, as he continued to leave kisses on your skin, your mind wandered back to everything that happened that day. You pulled away just before he could undo the clasp of your bra.

“W-what are we doing Wonwoo,” you breathed out, pushing his body away from you. He sighed, leaning back on your headboard. You avoided his gaze and stared at your legs that were situated on either side of his thighs.

“Don’t you like what we have y/n?” he asked, pulling your chin up with his hand.

“What exactly do you call this Wonwoo? I’m your secretary for crying out loud,” you replied with frustration.

“We can’t keep doing this. I-i can’t keep pretending like i’m not inlove with you while we’re at work,” you cried, tears sliding down your cheeks as you lightly thumped your hands against his bare chest.

“Baby,” he mumbled, taking your shivering figure into his embrace. You cried against the skin of his shoulder while he rubbed his hand on your back.

“I-i think I should quit Wonwoo,” you sniffled.

“If I stay in your company any longer, I’ll just end up breaking my own heart,” you decided, removing your self from his embrace. You wiped your tears with the back of your hands while getting off his lap.

“I think you should leave now Wonwoo, I’ll hand in my resignation letter later on.”

—

You arrived at the company early in the morning, your hands carrying folded boxes to put your things in. You heard soft mutters when you began to clear your belongings that were neatly organised on your desk.

Once you finished, you made your way towards Wonwoo’s office, gently knocking on his door to bid him your final goodbye.

“Come in.”

He looked up, pushing his metal glasses up when he saw you standing by the door. You took a deep breath before walking towards his desk, your resignation letter in hand. You placed it beside his arm before looking up at Wonwoo again.

“Thank you for the past 5 years, Mr. Jeon,” you bowed. He didn’t say anything and began working on the files that he was holding not too long ago.

“Bye Wonwoo,” you whispered, holding back the tears that were threatening to fall.

—

Four months passed by before you finally got a job at a photography studio. Before becoming Wonwoo’s secretary, you were an aspiring photographer that only studied business to please your parents. You were beyond happy when Mingyu, your boss, called you to offer you the job you applied for.

The first month and a half was hectic, shooting for different companies and artists was something you never imagined to be doing in your life time.

“Y/n, I need you to come with me to a really important photoshoot,” Mingyu chucked a popcorn at your direction. You swatted another incoming popcorn as you tried to place your camera down.

“Sure, who are we shooting for tomorrow?”

“My bestfriend and his family,” he smiled.

“Time?”

“10 in the morning,” he replied, munching on another popcorn.

“I’ll see you then,” you waved goodbye at your boss turned close friend.

—

You couldn’t believe your eyes when you entered the venue. Mingyu texted you that he would be arriving in less than 10 minutes. Your eyes landed on Wonwoo who was staring at you, shock evident on his face. You were shooting for The Jeons. Well shit, you thought. Wonwoo’s mother greeted you, leading you to a small section of the room where she told you you could place your belongings.

You thanked her, grabbing your phone to dial Kim Mingyu.

“Where the heck are you?” you panicked, looking around the room.

“Right behind you, you dumbass,” Mingyu chuckled, bumping your head with his camera bag. You glared at him as he continued to chuckle at you.

—

Throughout the whole photoshoot, your eyes tried to avoid meeting Wonwoo’s. Mingyu noticed the subtle glances that two of his friends were giving. He couldn’t help but shake his head when he finally took the last shot.

“We can call it a day, Mr and Mrs Jeon,” he politely said to Wonwoo’s parents. They both thanked you and Mingyu for your hard work while Wonwoo’s brother waved at you both with a smile before leaving with his parents. Wonwoo, on the other hand, decided to stay. You couldn’t deny how fast your heart was beating throughout the entire photoshoot.

“Thank you Mingyu and y/n,” he patted Mingyu’s back and gave you a small smile. You sligtly bowed at his direction before busying yourself with packing up. Mingyu and Wonwoo began to talk about something you didn’t understand while you tried to place your camera back into your bag.

“Hey y/n, do you need a ride back to your apartment?” Mingyu asked as you finally gathered all your belongings. You shook your head “no”, leaving both of them in the room.

“See you tomorrow, boss.”

—

It was around midnight when you heard a knock on your door. You were clad in nothing but a loose t-shirt that you were certain was Wonwoo’s and cotton shorts. You padded your way towards your door, looking through the peephole to find Wonwoo standing behind the door wearing grey sweatpants and a loose hoodie.

You opened the door, confused as to why Wonwoo showed up at your door after months of him not being here. He spoke gently, asking if he could come in to talk to you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, sitting back down on your sofa. He followed suite, keeping a small distance between you two. He shrugged, looking at his hands. Silence consumed you both while you stared at your midnight snack that was abandoned on the coffee table.

“Again Wonwoo, what are you doing here?” you asked firmly.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you so much, sweetheart,” he sobbed into his palms. Your heart clenched at his words, reaching out to pull him into your chest.

“I’m so sorry baby. When you said that you were going to leave, I thought it was for the best. I didn’t want to break your heart any further but I realised how stupid I was. How much of a coward I was being when I continued to lead you on for years,” he breathed against your neck.

“I’m so inlove you y/n y/l/n, and I was wonderinrg if you could still forgive me and ask for another chance?” he peered up at you through his tears. You wiped them gently while he wiped your own tears that were falling down your cheeks.

“Why’d you only come back for me now?” you whispered.

“I wanted to give you the space you deserved. I-i knew you were working for Mingyu two months ago when he mentioned your name during a conversation,” he stated. He pulled away from your hug, grabbing your waist to pull you on top of his lap. You straddled him, leaning the side of your head against his chest.

“Are you willing to take me back y/n?”

“Just make sure to ask me to be yours this time around, Jeon Wonwoo.”

He grinned at your words, “I love you so much.”

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 6 - zuko x fem!reader

The thing about forever is that it's a fucking lie

part 5 | masterlist | part 7

a/n: you all know whats coming lmao i got nothing to say for myself

wc: 3.5k

warning(s): pakku's usual sexism, typical siege of the north stuff, mostly angst but a lil bit of fluff in there

chapter title comes from forever is a lie by bea miller!

“I can’t believe that your tribe doesn’t teach waterbending to women!” Katara fumed, the snow beneath her feet packed tightly from her continuous pacing. “I mean, how can they even do that? Master Pakku’s all about ‘his culture and his teachings’ but his teachings are completely sexist!”

Y/N just nodded along as she listened to Katara — Master Pakku had refused to teach Katara, and after a disappointing healing lesson she had found Y/N to rant. “Yep. It’s unfair, but there’s not much we can do about it.”

Katara frowned and stopped in her tracks. “Don’t you want to learn how to fight too? I love being able to heal and help people, don’t get me wrong, but healing isn’t all I want to do.”

A shaky sigh fell from her lips and she shrugged, adjusting her position on the platform of ice she had made to sit on. “Well… yeah, I guess. I know a couple of martial moves, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to know more. But Katara, I—”

Y/N was silent for a moment as flashes of the past played behind her eyelids. “I’m not like you. I’m not the kind of person to challenge the rules. Not anymore.”

Katara shook her head, already back to her pacing. “I think you’re selling yourself short. I saw your healing during your class — you’re really talented, Y/N, and I know that skill will transfer over to fighting.”

“Thank you, but— but it doesn’t matter how good we are. Master Pakku is just as stubborn as he is talented, and I think he’d rather die than be a decent person. It’s a shame though. I’d really like to see someone knock some sense into him.”

“Yeah…” Katara sighed. “Hopefully Aang is having a better time than I am.” She looked up at the sky then fixed Y/N with a wry smile. “Speaking of Aang, I should probably get back to him and my brother. Sorry for talking your ear off the whole night.”

Y/N waved her hand around nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about it. You have my permission to rant to me any time you want while you’re here.”

Katara grinned and offered her hand, which Y/N took with a small smile as she got up from her ice platform. With a slight movement of her hand she bent it back into the ground, and the two girls began their walk back to the city. “I just wish I knew how to get Pakku to let up.”

“You’ll think of something,” Y/N reassured.

-

Katara did indeed think of something. Y/N’s wish of Pakku getting some sense knocked into him was granted when Katara challenged him to a fight, which was quite possibly the best thing that Y/N had ever witnessed. Though she ultimately lost, he still decided to take her on as a student — and in a move that Y/N would forever be grateful for, Katara had gotten Pakku to take her on as well. Katara made history that day, and she felt a shining sense of admiration for the girl for shaking things up.

And now, her days consisted of early mornings spent training, afternoons in classes, and nights doing homework, as well as fitting in time to hang out with Yue — it was a miracle she had any free time at all.

Lately though, it seemed like all Yue could talk about was Sokka. She liked him just as much as he liked her, but Yue was good — no matter how much she cared for someone, her tribe would always come first.

(“Did I hear that you and Sokka have a date later tonight?” she teased. “Aren’t you moving a little too fast?” Yue was silent at her attempt at humor and Y/N frowned. “Yue, are you okay?”

Silence lingered in the air for so long that Y/N almost thought she didn’t hear her, but finally the princess spoke as she pulled down the collar of her jacket to reveal an engagement necklace. Y/N gasped.

“It’s from Hahn,” she said quietly. “He proposed an hour ago, and I accepted.”

“You what?” Y/N cried, prompting a slight grimace from Yue. “Hahn— you can’t stand him!”

“Y/N, please,” Yue sighed. “He’s not that bad — he’s handsome, I guess. And he’s the son of a noble, and he’ll be really good for the tribe.”

“Yue, you’re the one who has to deal with him. He proposed to you, not the tribe — Spirits, half the boys in this tribe like you, why him?”

“It’s best for the tribe,” she repeated, her words an attempt to convince Y/N as much as herself.

“But what’s best for you?” Y/N countered.

Yue hadn’t answered, and had made up some half-baked excuse that she had to be somewhere. She had watched her go sadly, hoping that she would figure something out with Sokka.)

And it’s not like she wasn’t happy that her friend had found someone, it was just…

Y/N was upset that someone wasn’t her. And she didn’t know how to deal with that revelation.

But one morning, while making idle conversation with Katara as their lesson came to an end, a matter much more pressing came to hand.

Black snow. Soot raining down from the sky, tarnishing everything it touched.

A feeling all too familiar brewed in her chest as she met her friend’s eyes, and one thing was clear.

The Fire Nation was coming.

-

The air was even more frigid than usual with the knowledge of an imminent invasion, and Y/N had parted ways with her friends once they reached the town hall to be with her grandparents. The tension in the air was thick as Chief Arnook stepped up to address the people.

“The day we have feared for so long has arrived — the Fire Nation is on our doorstep. It is with great sadness I call my family here before me, knowing well that some of these faces are about to vanish from our tribe, but they will never vanish from our hearts. Now, as we approach the battle for our existence, I call upon the great spirits. Spirit of the Ocean! Spirit of the Moon! Be with us! I'm going to need volunteers for a dangerous mission.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sokka stood up. “Count me in.”

Her eyes widened as she met Katara’s from across the room, and she looked equally surprised. “Sokka…”

“Be warned: many of you will not return.” Several other men stood up after Sokka, including her grandfather. Despite his age he was a skilled fighter, but that was no comfort to Y/N. She reached up for his hand and shook her head almost desperately, but he smiled sadly and squeezed her hand, a sentiment to express words unsaid. “Come forward to receive my mark, if you accept the task.”

As he walked forward to join the line, she found the only solace she could in her grandmother’s open arms, burying her face in the fur of her jacket. “He will be okay,” she soothed. “He’s just as strong as he is brave. You have to have faith.”

She hoped that her grandmother was right. She couldn’t handle another loss.

Once all the men had received their marks, they left to confer about the battle plan. Y/N found her way up to the stage where a tearful Yue sat. It pained Y/N to see her in such a way, and when she sat down and offered her hand the princess immediately took it.

“I saw that your grandfather volunteered,” she said after a beat of silence. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. For Sokka.” Y/N adjusted her position so their shoulders were touching, and she sighed heavily. “I can’t stop thinking about my village. My father.” She met Yue’s eyes, her own beginning to tear up.

“What if it happens again?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I can’t— I can’t do it again.”

Yue let go of her hand to wrap the girl in a hug, the warmth of the embrace managing to chip away at some of their hopelessness. “You won’t have to do it again,” she stated, the reassurance seeming like the truth when coming from her. “You’re not alone this time.”

She finally pulled away from the hug as she wiped the tears off her face, and Y/N nodded. Yue somehow always knew exactly what to say. “What would I do without you?” she asked, her voice slightly watery.

“You’re never going to know,” the princess smiled. “Because whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with me.” That got a laugh out of Y/N and the two of them stood up as Yue gestured outside with her head. “I think I saw Aang and my father out there. It’ll help to talk with them — I think you need some fresh air anyways.”

Y/N nodded and the two girls walked out hand in hand, a small reprieve from carrying the weight of the world.

-

Things were so much worse than she had been anticipating.

After a short talk outside the hall with Katara, Aang, and the Chief, Yue had been transported somewhere safer as Y/N steeled herself for the front lines. After all, as a student of Master Pakku, she could fight damn well — it was just a matter of putting it into action.

But a line of warriors and children alike were no match for the strength of the Fire Nation from afar, and the first few fireballs had done their job at disrupting both the fighters and the wall — Seeing her home get destroyed hurt nearly as much as constantly getting thrown around.

After Aang had taken off on Appa and Chief Arnook took a section of his soldiers off for a different plan, the work on the ground began. The fleet of ships seemed endless , and the same went for their artillery — the fight went long into the day as Y/N worked with various other waterbenders to stop fireballs and repair broken parts of the city’s infrastructure, but just as the full moon began to show, the attacks stopped coming. Limbs heavy with exhaustion from their work in the field, Y/N and Katara met up with the princess back at the balcony of the palace.

“They’ve stopped firing,” Yue noted as they all gazed off into the distance.

“Thank the spirits,” Y/N muttered as she worked out a knot in her shoulder. “I don’t know how much longer I could’ve kept going.”

Just then, Appa came into view and a grin spread across Katara’s face. “Aang!”

He landed below them and the three girls hurried down to meet him. Aang landed on the ground, exhaustion clear in every part of him. “I can’t do it,” he muttered as he placed his head in his hands. “I can’t do it.”

“What happened?” Katara asked as she ran up to him, Yue and Y/N close behind.

“I must’ve taken out a dozen Fire Navy ships, but there’s just too many of them!” His large grey eyes were full of hopelessness, and Y/N’s heart ached for the boy. “I can’t fight them all.”

“But— you have to!” Yue pleaded. “You’re the Avatar.”

“I’m just one kid,” Aang countered wearily. He buried his face in his arms and Katara kneeled next to him in an attempt to comfort him. Y/N could almost forget about the pain in her body at that moment, feeling an odd responsibility to this boy as she looked down at him.

“Aang,” she muttered, following Katara’s example and kneeling next to him. “You’ve already done so much for us. Just by being here, you’ve inspired hundreds of people — you’re a beacon of hope all on your own! We don’t expect you to take out this whole navy by yourself. As long as you’re here, fighting with us? You’re helping us more than you know.”

He managed a slight smile at that and he took her outstretched hand, getting pulled back to his feet with her help.

“We’ll have a better view from up there,” Katara noted, pointing back up to the balcony. “You can help us keep watch, Aang — in case they start attacking again.”

He nodded and the four of them began the walk, the Avatar in slightly better spirits.

“The legends say the moon was the first waterbender,” Yue said once they had reached the balcony, all of them gazing at the sky. “Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves.”

“I’ve always noticed my waterbending is stronger at night,” Katara mused, causing Y/N to hum in agreement.

“Our strength from the spirit of the moon, our life from the spirit of the ocean,” she said. “They work together to keep balance.

Aang’s expression brightened at her words as he popped up from the ground. “The spirits! Maybe I can find them and get their help!”

“How can you do that?” Y/N questioned.

“The Avatar is the bridge between our world and the Spirit World,” Katara explained excitedly. “Aang can talk to them!”

“Maybe they’ll give you the wisdom to win this battle!” Yue exclaimed.

“Or maybe they'll unleash a crazy amazing spirit attack on the Fire Nation!” At that, all three girls met him with strange looks. Aang coughed and straightened his posture. “Or wisdom. That's good, too.”

“The only problem is, last time you got to the Spirit World by accident,” Katara said with a frown. “How are you going to get there this time?”

Yue’s eyes lit up and she looked at them with a smile. “I have an idea. Follow me.”

-

A few minutes later, they were standing in the Spirit Oasis, the most spiritual place in all of the North. Yue, Y/N, and Katara all shed their coats as Aang walked around, marvelling at the beauty.

“I can feel… something,” Aang said as he sat down, getting into a meditating position. “It’s so tranquil.”

Soon enough, after a few moments of silence, Aang’s eyes as well as the arrow on his head began to glow.

“Is he okay?” Yue gasped.

“He’s crossing into the Spirit World,” Katara reassured. “He’ll be fine as long as we don’t move his body. That’s his way back to the physical world.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Y/N whispered, astonishment etched into her face. For as much as she had been taught about the ocean spirits, she wasn’t well-versed in the Spirit World as a whole — she was thoroughly fascinated by every part of this.

“Maybe we should get some help,” Yue suggested, still on edge as she took a few steps away from the gate.

“No, he’s my friend. I’m perfectly capable of protecting him. Besides, I already have some help here.” She smiled at Y/N, a sentiment that she returned happily.

A deep voice, almost mocking, broke the silence as it echoed throughout the oasis. “Well, aren’t you a big girl now? Even got yourself a little student.”

The three girls all whipped around to find the source of the voice, and Katara’s whole body stiffened. “No…”

“Yes. Hand him over and I don’t have to hurt you.”

Y/N immediately eased into a bending stance along with Katara as the princess fled to get help, but her confidence faltered when she took the time to focus on their assailant.

She almost didn’t recognize him — it had been nearly four years since she had last set eyes upon the boy, but it was as if he had become a completely different person. His head was shaved completely save for a ponytail, and blues and reds marked his skin in various cuts and bruises. His eyes held an anger she had never seen before, an expression only heightened with the addition of a large red scar across his left eye.

“Zuko?” she breathed, her chest tightening up beneath the weight of the revelation. Katara stared at her in bewilderment — she had no idea that Y/N knew the prince that had chased them halfway across the world, but Katara supposed that she had no reason to ever suspect she did.

His eyes flashed with recognition as they ran over her, and it seemed as if he had a similar epiphany as he staggered backwards. “I… I thought you were dead.”

“You’re with them,” she muttered, blood turning to ice. “Your nation is invading, and you’re helping them— you’re after the Avatar? What are you doing, Zuko?!”

The momentary surprise was replaced by steely determination as he shifted his weight forward and kicked up his leg, sending a blast of fire that she barely managed to dodge. “You know nothing!”

Y/N fell back into position next to Katara, but the newfound knowledge was like a fog over her mind. “Whoever he was when you knew him, that’s not him anymore!” Katara yelled as she bent water out of the pond and blocked his following attacks. “He won’t hesitate to hurt you, so you can’t either!”

“O-okay!” she stammered. This was the moment she had been waiting for, wasn’t it? After training with both Katara and Pakku, her martial skill had increased tenfold, and she was desperate to try it out — she only wished her first opponent didn’t have to be him. But another fire blast snapped her out of her paralysis, and she jumped into action.

The two girls worked impossibly well together, one stepping forward when the other fell back, the bending between them nearly seamless. Any fire that the prince sent their way was quickly extinguished, and with two against one on home turf, Y/N and Katara were able to hold him off with relative ease.

Y/N bent another jet of water up from the oasis and shot it at Zuko, the force of which knocked him several feet back. Katara took the opening and froze his feet to the ground, then began to move her arms about as she formed a ball of water around him — one more movement and it was frozen solid.

“You little peasant,” he growled. “You’ve found a master, haven’t you?”

The orb of ice began to glow, the air around them becoming hotter and hotter until it melted around him. Blasts of fire were flying at them as soon as Zuko hit the ground, and they were forced to retreat back towards the oasis as they grew more intense.

Y/N drew up a shield of water, extinguishing the flames on impact. Zuko dodged around them, his fingers inches away from Aang’s collar. Y/N propelled the water already at her fingertips towards Zuko with a grunt of effort, which sent him flying into the shallows on the other side of the oasis. She conjured up a large wave and sent it towards the prince, sending him up the side of the wall and trapping him once Katara froze it.

She breathed a sigh of relief and let her arms fall, a part of her wondering how they were still connected after the tediousness of the earlier battle. But this, one on one in a fight with real stakes? It was as exhilarating as it was nerve wracking, and she had never been so thankful that Katara had gotten her in with Master Pakku. Y/N felt intensely guilty over the pain she had inflicted on Zuko, but she tried her best to push it out of her mind — like Katara said, he would’ve done worse if she hadn’t fought back.

“You fought well,” Katara smiled. “I told you that you were talented.”

She chuckled and shrugged, cheeks heating up slightly at the praise. “It’s not exactly my first fight, just… the most intense.” It reminded her of the early mornings and late nights spent sparring with Zuko, a memory that only twisted the dagger in her heart even more.

The two girls smiled at each other as they began to walk back over to Aang — it seemed the boy was undisturbed by the fight by virtue of his glowing tattoos and closed eyes — when Y/N found herself squinting from the rays of light filtering in.

“Huh,” she mumbled. “The sun’s out. The sun’s out— Katara!”

Y/N turned to find the prince free from the ice, and the pair barely had time to draw water from the pond to shield themselves from the impending flames. But it was too little too late, and the power of the blast sent them back several feet. They slammed into either side of the gate, the force of it immediately knocking Katara out.

Y/N gasped in pain as she tried to push herself up, but the fight combined with the impact of her landing had taken a toll on her and she collapsed once more against the gate. When the smoke from the fire cleared, Zuko was there with Aang’s collar in his grasp.

“You rise with the moon,” he muttered, his face tinged with the slightest bit of guilt as he met her eyes. “I rise with the sun.”

The last thing she saw before her consciousness faded out was the boy she loved escaping with the Avatar.

-

why did i make yue and y/n like this when i KNOW what i have to write next omg i hate myself

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27 @anzanity @randomthingssss @escapingthoughtsandsecrets @shanksfav @shephard17895 @ilovespideyyy

atla: @marianne1806

[joyfulhopelox]

Board-shorts and Choppy Waves | KTH

╰►Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

╰►AU: summer love, meet cute, surf, s2l, i2l

Genre: fluff, with a tiny bit of angst

Rating: pg

╰►Word count: 17.6k

Warnings: mild swearing

╰►A/N: This is my contribution to the Summer of Love Collab, a collab i had not intended to be in but it just so happened that i fell in love with the story and i had to write it, the banner really did not come out as I'd planned but such is life! But be prepared for two idiots to fall in love. Where The Holiday (summer version) meets Gidget! I want to thank @notyouroppar for being not only the most amazing person for reading this over for me but also for fuelling my hype! secondly i want to thank everyone in this collab for being amazing and last but not least i want to thank @hobipaint and @yoonjinkooked for helping me get through this and for believing in this Taehyung!

Did I use Umji as inspiration for Ye Won? Yes. Is Taehyung’s surfer squad the almost complete real life Wooga Squad? Yes. That being said, enjoy! 💜

Copyrights for the story and banner @joyfulhopelox

╰►Summary: A city girl through and through, not used to anything but the hustling and bustling of the streets. From people with phones attached to their hands, the only accompanying noise you had on your way to work was the honking of angry drivers. However, even someone with a devil-may-care attitude can be fed up with such a life. In a desperate attempt to escape, you embark on a crazy adventure that leads you to Hawaii - on a surfboard! Living under someone else’s roof, you find that this may not have been the break that you strived for when the annoying brother comes into play. Riding a wave is like riding the subway, he told you, yet why did his hand holding yours feel like riding a rollercoaster?

Between a job that kept you tied to your desk, and a job that required you to run around town, trying to please everyone and their mother with your projects, you would’ve chosen the former. Correction, now you would choose the former one.

As a bright eyed child though, you’d chosen the latter. And somewhere in between trying to meet the producers– your hands overflowing with a stack of papers which balanced a precariously placed cup of coffee, and a video call with the actor’s managers– who had the audacity to request a jacuzzi on set, you were beginning to regret the decision.

“Yes, yes. I got it!” Weaving expertly through the hectic flow of people coming out from the subway, you tried to grip the phone tighter between your ear and shoulder. “No, no, unfortunately we cannot agree to those requests.” Humming in response, your ears painfully assaulted from the other end of the line, you apologised as your shoulder bumped into another and carried on without waiting for a response. As much as you wanted to stay and apologise, you didn’t have the time. If you learned one thing in this job, it was that lateness was not viewed nicely. As a newbie in the field, your punctuality has been subject to disapproval more than once.

“We shall see what we can do about that.” Not bothering to wait for the response on the other end of the line, you ended the conversation thankful for your balancing skills. Phone now added onto the pile, you continued weaving through the flow of people coming your way. Realising you hadn’t checked the time, you urged your legs to go faster, cursing that you decided to wear heels on a busy day like this. No matter how nice they made you feel, a day spent in pain whilst trying to be efficient was not worth it.

The building where your fate was sealed seemed to loom over you. Gazing up at it you swallowed, your throat dry. You knew without conviction you would get nowhere in the industry, and so with new resolve you made your way through the glass doors. Show time.

It only took a few hours for your blood pressure to rise to dangerous levels. Ever since walking through that door, it felt like nothing went the way you’d imagined it to. The meeting that was supposed to start on time was so delayed, you had to postpone the following meeting with the agent representing your newest addition to the cast. The rest tumbled down with the speed of an avalanche. Not having signed up to run around in heels for coffee, and especially not when you were one of the people meant to pitch the new series, your feet were throbbing and your patience wore thin.

The cherry on top of the cake was the call you received at the end of the day from your boss. It wasn’t an unexpected call, but dare you say, untimely. The call was short and sharp, delivering the blows that would ultimately lead to accepting your friends’ invite for a bar night.

The bar where you usually met your friends was surprisingly empty, though you suspected it was because it was the middle of the week. The few groups that littered the area made it easy for you to spot your obnoxious pair of friends. It seemed they were already on their second round of drinks, judging by the number of empty glasses and Georgie’s animated talk.

“I swear that’s what happened!” As you made your way towards the group, you heard Kate declare her ridiculousness with sincerity as the rest laughed at her. With a roll of your eyes, you slid in next to her.

“What did I miss?” You cheerfully interrupted their storytelling, sharing ‘hello’s’ with them and the obligatory catch up of mundane stories.

Taking a careful sip out of your drink you silently observed the ruckus they created around the table, their cheerful loud voices making you smile inwardly. You missed this.

“So, Y/N, how is that promotion going for you?” Georgie leaned over the table, seemingly to make herself heard over the loud music. Yet, by the suspicious raise of her eyebrows you were aware of what she had been implying. Your almost-fling with your boss.

“Georgie – no.” You shook your head, your attempt to shut down the conversation a poor one at best. “We are not going there.” Taking another sip of your drink you tried to come up with something to deter them from prodding further.

“Oh come on!” Kate insisted, her eyes wide. “You live like a prude married to their work most of the time,” She waved you away when you tried to poke her. “The one time you aren’t and you have a small chance at dating!” She exclaimed and you reached out to cover her mouth.

“Shush it, will you? Any louder and everyone in the bar will hear about my dating plight.” You argued back, frustrated with the situation you’d landed yourself in.

“-He’s my boss.” You countered, knowing full well that if you didn’t explain at least part of your reasoning, there was no way this would end. “Plus –“ you held out your hand to stop them from interrupting you. “He already has a girlfriend.” You took another long sip of your drink, satisfied with the way their faces dropped.

Georgie, to her credit, decided to keep her opinions to herself, occupying her time with swirling her own drink around. However, Kate, whom you’d known the longest, stared at you, eyes narrowed as if trying to figure you out.

“So what was that dinner about then?” She prodded further and you sighed, dramatically lowering your glass onto the table.

“Look, that dinner–“ You leaned forwards fixing them both with your gaze, a small smile forming on your face. “Was definitely about a promotion.” You said conspiratorially.

Unprepared for the joyful hoots from your friends, you leaned back as they both scrambled to hug you. They had been your best friends since college and they knew you better than anyone, especially the struggles you had to go through to even break into the film industry and get the position you were in now. Let alone a promotion.

By no means were you in a bad position, it definitely kept you in the city, and you could afford a good two bedroom apartment near Central London. but remembering the way you had to run around for coffee, not being able to refuse tasks left a bitter taste in your mouth. Definitely this promotion would not only open more doors for you, but also allow you to say no. The joy you felt as soon as you got the call earlier that evening washed away the pain of your blistered feet, and with a renewed spring in your step you had gone to the bar to share your good news with your friends.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” Kate exclaimed, clapping her hands enthusiastically. “This is amazing, you definitely needed this! How soon will you be filling the new role?” She inquired and your mood dropped instantly, reality washing over you.

Disentangling yourself from her hug, you sighed. “It’s a possibility, it’s not yet certain.” Your voice sounded gloomy, knowing full well that a possibility was not a certainty. “I still have to see this project through.” Tapping your fingers to the side of your glass you continued. “It’s a long few months of waiting now. I have done my job, all that needs to happen now is for the rest of them to do their job.”

Georgie looked at you empathetically, she knew what you meant. She, herself, was in a similar position to you. The silence that followed between the three of you was not uncomfortable by any means. The bass of the music pounding around you kept you company, an unneeded headache. But worth it if it meant you got to talk to your friends.

“So…” She trailed off, her eyes scouring the fuller bar. “What will you be doing now?” Turning her attention back to you, she raised her eyebrows at you. “Date? Holiday?”

The question took you by complete surprise, drink still in your mouth in the midst of swallowing, you struggled to not choke. Kate patted your back, an almost sympathetic look crossed over her face, only to be quickly replaced by a smirk. “No but seriously, Y/N.” Glaring at the both of them for ganging up on you, you shrugged.

“I have no intentions to be dating, and you know that.” You pointed at them, eyes narrowed. “As for holiday…” You trailed off. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had a holiday. Sure, you took your required days off, but you never left your apartment during those days. And to be completely honest, you only used them to catch up on work you did not get to do during the week, respond to emails you didn’t get a chance to, and order the occasional takeaway with a film in the evenings. But even that could count more as work than relaxing. Being in the film industry, you rarely found yourself enjoying a production without thinking about the ins and outs that went on behind the scenes to put it all together. The thought of an actual holiday has never even crossed your mind.

“-I do take holidays.” You weakly argued, but when you met the girls’ eyes you shrugged noncommittally. “Look, I can’t afford to.” You simply provided. That reason seemed to be enough to quieten them both, until Kate jumped up.

“I know!” She exclaimed, her palm slapping the table hard. “How about a house exchange?”

You stared at her oddly, wondering how much she’d had to drink, but she didn’t seem flushed, nor to be staggering on her feet. Instead of insulting her with questions about her sobriety you waited for her to explain herself. “You know, like, the ones where you do it through an agency.” She supplied, but at your furrowed eyebrows she sighed. “Kind of like an AirBnB, but this one is about you contacting a person who is willing to exchange their horse for a short period of time, and you are providing them with yours as a payment.”

At her explanation, your eyes went wide with surprise, your mouth hanging open. “Wha-?” It baffled you, the idea that someone would willingly not only supply you with their house, their sanctuary, but also they would agree to come and live in a stranger’s house. “What sort of scam is this?” You finally settled.

“It’s not a scam!” Georgie jumped in, the tone of her voice betraying her excitement. “My friend did it, and she loved it!” You watched her with a careful eye, trying to decide if both of your friends had had too much to drink. At your unconvinced look, Georgie sighed.

“Look, it’s worth thinking about it, you get to see pictures of the house first, and also talk to the owner beforehand. It’s not like you have no contact with them before you even get there.” She stated, carefully watching your expression turn thoughtful. As much as you enjoyed the idea of being able to live in someone else’s house, without paying too much for it, you had trust issues. You couldn’t just let anyone in your own home, just like that.

“Is there insurance? What about a contract? Will I be able to go anywhere? What if they steal something?” Before you could continue with your incessant worries, Kate interrupted you, a hand on your arm.

“Of course, there is insurance. This is all done through an agency, it is not like you email a stranger out of the blue-” At your unconvinced expression she carried on. “And there is a contract, and background checks, and you do get to pick which place you want to choose.” She breathed a loud sigh. “Look, Y/N, this may be a good time for you to take a break.” She patted your arm as if that would have convinced you that what she was saying was true.

Well, it was true, but they both knew you were a workaholic. It would take more than that to get you to let go of your responsibilities and take care of yourself first. Georgie followed Kate’s suit, her words sealing your fate.

“And you don’t want to date, so this is the best way to make sure that you take care of your own needs first.” Your alarmed expression made her continue. “You need a break, you have nothing else to do but wait, all you will do is worry and fret.” She waved her hand around as if to disperse the worries and fears mentioned.

“And-” Georgie leaned forward as if to share a secret and you mirrored her movement. “Think about it this way, you’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii.” She smirked and you let your mouth drop, her idea already a seed in your mind.

She was right, Hawaii has always been a place you wanted to visit, never having the time or money to do so. This would be perfect for you. Still worried you nodded your head, enough for her to lean back a satisfied look on her face. She knew her job was done, but she couldn’t help but add. “And you never know, you may find your Surfer Charming there.” Georgie wiggled her eyebrows at you making Kate laugh and you narrowed your eyes at her, an offended look on your face.

“Georgie!” You then realised what she implied earlier. “Also, how does dating have anything to do with me taking a break?” You sounded indignant, and the three of you burst out laughing.

It took a few weeks for you to remember this conversation. They had been right, all you did during that period was fret, wait, and call people more than once trying to figure out if everything was going on as planned. These calls earned you more than a few groans and even some rejected your calls after the tenth time you tried to reach them within a day.

Deciding you’d had enough of your own brain, you chanced a look at the website Kate mentioned. The sight of all the reviews made you breathe out easier, of course you were going to head there first, the need to know how legit this whole business was too strong for you to get caught up in the lovely pictures littering the website. Once satisfied with the reviews you then let yourself fall into the hole, sinking in deep, and by the time dinner rolled round you had a few options you were considering as a potential. One in Europe, one in Asia, and one in Hawaii.

You bit your lip, this was one of the hardest decisions you had to make, the idea of doing this frightening. Needing more encouragement, you decided to call Kate once more to get her opinion on it, but before you could hit the dial, something caught your eye. The Hawaii exchange, the person in the bio stated they would prefer an exchange with someone from your own town, boring old London. Scrolling through the pictures once more, the airy feel of the house, along with the art that was tastefully decorating the space drew you in more and more. What sealed the deal in your eyes though, was the last picture, a view of a grand pool, the flowers that were scattered all around the garden giving you the feel of the paradise you craved. In the background the view of the ocean and the waves eased your worries and made your eyes glisten with hope. This was it.

Cursor over the email address, you read the name once more before you smiled to yourself.

‘Dear Ye Won,

I hope this email finds you well. I am writing in regards to the home exchange; I happened to come upon your one and I was instantly drawn to it….’

The morning came quicker than you expected, the sound of your alarm blaring throughout the airy beach house jolting you out of bed in an unpleasant manner. You cursed at the inanimate object for not only waking you up, but for being the reason you had to move out of your comfortable spot under the duvet to turn it off. Deciding your joints were not in pain today was an easy feat, you didn’t crumple to the ground like you had previously and you could turn your head without feeling like your head’s being pounded by a rock.

The flight over from London had not been a pleasant one, the crying child next to you hadn’t allowed you to close your eyes for a second. He was not at fault and you knew that, no one could last unscathed through an 18 hour flight; but, the throbbing headache you sported now was definitely blaming him. To make matters worse, the flight to Honolulu had been delayed enough that when you landed you had little to no time to spare before your flight over to Maui. You’d think that they would have more flights in a day towards such a popular destination, however, you were soon to find out that it was not the case.

Bags in hand, trying to multitask, desperately running towards what you assumed to be your gate, whilst checking the status of your flight as you passed by the information board– it was all a disaster waiting to happen. And when a disaster is waiting to happen, chances are it will. One moment you were skillfully dodging a passerby and the next you found yourself bumping into a solid chest, the wind knocked out of you. Derailed from your goal and with the pain of having bumped your nose into someone’s torso, it took you a good moment to realise what had happened.

“Tsk, look where you’re going.” The deep voice held the annoyance of someone who’d just been through a rough day, and normally you’d do your best to apologise. However, you’d had just as rough of a day and it was still not over, not to mention you were in a hurry. Pleasantries would have to wait.

“I’m late. And you could also look where you’re going.” You simply announced with a huff not bothering to look up, the tip of your nose still throbbing.

“Did I mention anything about your lateness, does it seem like I have time?” The man, judging by the voice, retaliated. You rubbed the tip of your nose to make sure that nothing was bruised before you glanced up, your eyes narrowed as the obvious rudeness of this person. The sight that greeted you was not what you’d expected, and once again, under normal circumstances you would have paused to gawk. He was beautiful, there was no other way to describe him. His light brown hair was quite shaggy, offering him an unkempt appearance, the bandana that tied around his head keeping his bangs from obstructing his eyes. And what eyes, his gaze locked onto yours, the ebony colour intensifying the coldness in them, you found yourself lost for words.

“Well, are you going to move out of the way?” He nodded his head impatiently as if that would simply remove you from his path. With those words, the bubble you were in completely dissipated, reality crashing down on you. You were still late. With a gasp, you didn’t bother responding to him; your grip tightened on your bag and you dashed around him, praying that those few minutes were not wasted and the flight hadn’t left without you.

Now, seated at the counter of the vast kitchen, a coffee cup in hand, you had time to think about the events from the airport. With a pained sigh you admitted to yourself you’d been the one in the wrong, not only having bumped into an innocent passerby, but also starting an argument with them instead of apologising and being on your merry way. You were certain that under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have reacted this way.

“Oh, well…” Muttering to yourself you took a last sip of your coffee thanking the stars the person who offered you the place had enough stocked to last you for a couple of days. Having arrived late last night, you hadn’t had the time to explore the area, let alone think about stocking up on food. To you, it felt like a holiday - and in a way you supposed it was, only you were without the ease of being in a hotel and having a restaurant at your doorstep.

The lack of traffic echoing in your ears felt unfamiliar, the stillness of the house reminding you of a horror film where the protagonist is only seconds away from being snatched. Only, you were not in an old abandoned house. One quick glance around told you a lot about the person that swapped homes with you. Their interest in art and interior design was clearly reflected in the way they had decorated the house. The rooms were wide and airy, yet the abundance of paintings and figurines scattered everywhere made it resemble an art gallery. Walking around trying to familiarise yourself with the house, you decided that this home would be your little piece of heaven for the next month. Especially when you reached the end of the house and stumbled upon a lovely back garden, the fence lined with palm trees and gardenias scattered all around a clear pool. Excitedly, you rushed back to your bedroom for your swimsuit. Exploring the area could wait a few more hours. You were on holiday, and what could be more holiday-esque than taking a dip in a pool, in Hawaii!

Deciding on the first suit that you came across, you debated whether or not you should cover yourself up until the pool, but before you could make a decision a loud thud coming from the front door jolted you.

With your heart pounding, you padded towards the corridor at the sound of a voice yelling “Ye Won! Open up!” as they kept pounding against the wooden door. Aware that it was not your house and afraid for the door’s hinges you ran to respond.

In a rush to get to the door before the person on the other end broke in, you had completely forgotten to cover yourself up. When the thought suddenly occurred to you, it was already too late. You had the front door wide open ready to greet whoever was one the other side.

“Thank God you responded I was ready to break the door- What the fu-” A deep voice greeted you and you couldn’t help but stare dumbfounded at the man standing in front of you. A very handsome man. His ebony eyes and light brown coloured hair looked too familiar for your liking.

“You- the airport- what?” He sputtered pointing at you, rubbing his eyes as if he was unable to believe the sight before him- and what a sight you were.

You felt as if the proverbial rug had been swept from under your feet. Once his words finally registered in your head you realised the promiscuous position you were in. Not only was the stranger you almost assaulted at the airport in front of you, but you were also standing there on display in a bikini. Your attempt to calm yourself down was futile, the adrenaline coursing through your veins giving way to your fight or flight reflexes. And you chose flight. With a shrill scream you didn’t think twice before slamming the door in his face, your heart threatening to pound out of your chest.

“Fuck.” What was he doing here?

You didn’t know how long you spent leaning on the door, heart in your throat, your mind devoid of any rational thought but when another pounding vibrated through you, it broke you out of your daze. Jumping up, you shook yourself off from any theories as to why the stranger you argued with in the airport could be there. Making sure you were presentable, with a trembling hand you reached for the door, hesitating.

“Open up!” With another loud pound against the wooden material that made you jolt away from the door, the man carried on yelling. “Open up or I am using the key, and I don’t care about whatever various states of undress you are in!” His voice turned dark towards the end, the huskiness in it making you shiver involuntarily. You weren’t a pushover, so with the intention to get him straight you swallowed your pride and opened the door abruptly, catching him mid knock.

“What do you want? Who are you and what are you doing here?” Tapping your foot impatiently, you resisted the urge to look at him more than necessary. Just like you did at the airport, you found him incredibly attractive. With his ruffled dark locks - this time tied in a bun at the top of his head, another bandana keeping the strays away from his face. His light coloured shirt contrasted greatly with his slightly tanned smooth skin and the boardshorts he was wearing were giving away a bit too much for your imagination to not run wild on you.

Mouth wide open, he didn’t offer you the same consideration, his eyes raking over your covered form, his intense dark gaze making you shift on spot. Arms crossed around your chest in an attempt to preserve your decency, you narrowed your eyes at him. “You come here, almost breaking the door down and don’t even have the decency to introduce yourself to the person living here?” You asked pointedly, your tone sharp, the annoyance clear in your voice.

“Just as you did when you bumped into me yesterday?” He was quick to retaliate, his stance mirroring yours. No one said anything for a few seconds, the air around you felt charged with electricity as you tried your hardest to not stray away from his dark brown eyes. You cocked an eyebrow mockingly, daring him to be the first one to break the staring match.

“Taehyung.” He conceded after a few more seconds, the weight of your stare too dangerous for his imagination. He had to admit you were beautiful, and the sight of your angered state made you even more attractive in his eyes. Deciding it was a biased opinion, he put it down to the fact that this is the only way he’s seen you up until then. The fiery glint in your eyes accentuated by rosy cheeks from the blood rushing to your face in anger.

Hearing his response and accepting it as defeat, you lowered your arms, a satisfied smirk on your face. But before you could loudly announce your win, he carried on, his response nailing you on the spot. “And this is my sister’s house.”

Eyes wide, you gaped at him. “This is what now?” You couldn’t believe your ears, his words ringing in your head as dread washed over you. “You mean to say, you live here?” You felt the telltale signs of anger readying a harsh email back towards the woman who exchanged houses with you.

Taehyung’s eyes widened, the preposterous idea making him guffaw. “What? No!” He was quick to refute. The clear panic in his voice at the thought was enough to make you sigh in relief, sending a mental apology towards Ye Won. “I’m here to see Ye Won, are you the maid?” He looked you up and down thoughtfully. “She did say she was going to get a maid, but if she’s not home I wouldn’t go around gallivanting–“ He pointed at the shift covering you, “up and down like this.”

With an indignant huff you wondered if Ye Won would be ok with you breaking her brother’s nose. Having exchanged emails with her for the better part of a month, you discovered she was not only a genuinely nice person but also considerate as she made sure to walk you through not only the house’s quirks, but also different customs in Hawaii and things to do to occupy your time. Though, you thought eyeing Taehyung with distrust, not that considerate.

“So–“ Taehyung glanced inside, his height making it easy for him to do so without struggling too much. “Where’s Ye Won?”

Scoffing at him you prepared to close the door in his face. “She’s not here, she’s in London.”

If you weren’t so annoyed at his earlier indiscretion you would’ve laughed at the way his face fell, mouth agape. “What do you mean she’s in London? Then why are you here?” He pointed at you accusingly.

“Look, it’s my first day here and I would like to spend it in a meaningful way.” You threw him a pointed look alluding to his behaviour from earlier. “If you want more details I am sure your sister can give them to you.” You placed a hand on his chest, pausing at the feel of muscle underneath your palm. Shaking yourself out of it, you reminded yourself you didn’t know this person, nor did you want to. “Now if you will excuse me.” You lightly pushed him out the doorway before shutting the door in his face.

“What a character.” You muttered, your thoughts completely taken over by the excitement awaiting you for the day.

“Kate, I’m telling you, it’s all fine. I have a long list Ye Won gave me of things to do.” Phone pressed to your ear, you reassured your friend on the other side of the ocean.

“And?” She inquired and paused hoping for more information from you. When the pregnant pause extended she sighed exasperated. “Y/N! Come on, you’re in Hawaii! What about any hot guys?”

You laughed at her, only for your thoughts to drift to the ponytailed devil you’ve met earlier. “Mnope.” You drawled, occupying yourself with the flowers in the garden. “Nothing worth mentioning.” At the whine on the other end, you felt the need to defend yourself. “Kate! I’ve only been here for a night! There is no way I could’ve met anyone in this amount of time. And also–“ you raised your voice trying to mask the blatant lie you just told her. “I am not here to meet anyone. I am here to relax.”

Kate snorted, the thought of you and relaxation in one sentence amusing to her. “You mean you will actually not think about work? Check emails? Fret about details?”

“Shhh, I know what you are trying to do.” You laughed at her ridiculousness. “Yes, I will rest. And no, I will not be hunting any men.” You added ending the call before she could speak her mind about your personal choice of staying single.

On second thought, you had absolutely no clue what you wanted to do. Going over the list Ye Won so kindly provided for you, you felt overwhelmed. It wasn’t that you weren’t any good with lists, you lived for them, your job relied on them more than you cared to admit. This list though, entailed you relaxing and having fun, two concepts which you’ve rarely experienced since leaving university.

“Not this,” your finger skimmed over the list, making a mental note to ask Ye Won what exactly did ‘going mental at the Sailor Jerry Festival’ meant. “Aha! Beach!” You exclaimed, face lighting up with excitement. “I know how to do that!” Glancing underneath the list of beaches your eyes caught her suggestion of what to do on said beaches. “Should I–?”

Smiling lightly to yourself, you nodded. Surfing. Look for Hyung Sik. Giddy at the thought of doing something out of the norm, you imagined what Katie and Georgie would say if they knew. Gathering your things you decided it was worth a try, if only to get yourself familiarised with the area and walk to the beach. Well, surf’s up I guess.

The road to the beach was littered with stalls ready to exhibit the best of what Hawaii had to offer, and you spent more than you had planned just in awe at the multitude of colours around you. The music and the atmosphere surrounded you fully, and you happily immersed yourself in the experience. For the first time in forever you felt free, the breeze coming from the ocean soothing your worries.

After a journey that took you an hour longer than intended, you reached the beach, your eyes scouring for the hut Ye Won mentioned. Past the showers, down towards the Surfer’s Den bar, you tried to remember the instructions written on the paper. Feet buried in the soft sand, your eyes wandered towards the way the soft waves broke as they reached their final destination, the music of the sea lulling you into a daydream.

“Yo-” The sound of someone yelling broke you out of your daze and you craned your neck to catch a glimpse of the source. “You’re gonna run into the tables.” Finally spotting the man waving at you, you stopped, your brain registering what he was trying to tell you. Looking around confusedly, you realised you were a few centimetres away from slamming into one of the tables that belonged to the bar.

“Oh,” squinting, you waved back to the man in thanks when your eyes caught the sign above his head. “Surf’s up.” You mumbled to yourself before your eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh! This is it!” You quickened your pace, hoping to reach the hut before you had the chance to change your mind. The man had his back towards you now, too preoccupied with a surfboard, the sheer size of it making you gulp.

“Uhm, excuse me.” You tried, your voice cracking. You didn’t know why you suddenly turned shy, you were used to talking to big names, people who could eat you for breakfast, you never faltered once. Why were you all of a sudden becoming a wallflower?

With new resolve, you tried again, your voice a notch higher. “Excuse me, are you Hyung Sik?” You asked as the man suddenly turned around, almost clocking you in the face with his elbow.

“Oh shit, I'm sorry.” He apologised, seeing your disgruntled expression. “No bubs, I’m not name’s Woo Sik.” Your heart sighed in relief at this, you could come another time, you promised yourself. But before you could turn around and run for the hills like you’d planned to, the man carried on, crushing your escape plan. “But he’s inside, I can bring him out for you.”

You wanted to tell him no and that it’s okay, but before you could utter a word he had already gone back inside, coming out with another person behind him. Wait. Another two people behind him. Were all the guys in Hawaii this hot? You questioned, the sight of their handsome faces making you freeze on spot.

“Here she is.” The man you spoke to before, Woo Sik, turned to one of the men following behind him. You assumed him to be Hyung Sik and you turned towards him, prepared to stick a hand out in greeting.

“Oh shit man, she is beautiful.” The man exclaimed and before you could decide whether you were flattered at the compliment or alienated by the thought of them talking about you behind your back, he rushed towards you, and pulled you into a friendly hug.

“Welcome to Surf’s up. I’m Hyung Sik, I’m assuming you are looking for a teacher?” He let go of you, hand still on your shoulder and you raised your eyebrow at him.

“What makes you think that, I could just be–“ you glanced at the sign behind him that read boards for hire. “Looking to hire a board...”

Hyung Sik looked you over for a second and you fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. “No offence bubs, but you look like a city person. We had one of them once,” he turned towards his friends and chuckled, “he’s a pro surfer now but, man, you city bros are so easy to read.”

The comical way in which he threw his hands up in mock frustration made you burst out laughing. You knew you should’ve taken offence at what he said, but you couldn’t find it in you. He seemed too genuine in his opinion for it to be an insult. And it’s not like he was wrong.

“Right, yes, I am looking for a teacher.” You nodded, sheepishly.

“Well bubs, I would love to be yours, I have a feeling you’re a cool one, but unfortunately I have some business I need to take care of.” He sighed dramatically.

“Oh don’t I know that.” You laughed, preparing yourself to leave once more, the hope in your heart rekindled. If he was busy you would definitely have to come again later. “Well– Ye Won’s suggestion will have to wait then.” You spoke to yourself.

“Ye Won.” The man whom you haven’t been introduced to spoke, eyes gleaming with surprise. Hyung Sik let out a loud laugh at his friend’s obvious behaviour. The man was handsome, his crooked smile and short hair giving him an air of youth that you deemed attractive. But judging by his reaction, he was already spoken for so with a shrug you nodded.

“Hush man,” Woo Sik laughed, slapping his friend over the back, the sound of it making you wince. “This lovesick fool is Seo Joon. He may be handsome, but he’s a tool.” He filled you in.

You laughed, your eyes tearing up. Between your pearls of laughter and the men’s bickering you missed the new addition to your group. “Don’t worry, I deal with tools more than I care to admit.” You winked in Seo Joon’s direction, your eyes catching sight of the man behind him. “Speaking of tools- Taehyung“ you muttered rolling your eyes. The men looked at you confusedly, before said man made his presence known.

“Y/N. You're stalking me?” He took a step towards you, the smirk on his face infuriated you.

“Perfect timing, Taehyung.” Hyung Sik wound his arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. “You got a new student.” He looked at his friend pointedly, and you had a feeling it was not a request as much as it was a command.

Taehyung prepared himself to object before you stepped in. “Oh no no, it’s ok. I can come back another time.” You tried to escape out of it, the prospect of having Taehyung as an instructor was not sitting well with you.

“Nonsense. He may be an ass, but he’s the best surfer we have.” Seo Joon smiled at you reassuringly before he lightly kicked his friend in the shin. “Stop staring.” He said amusedly, bringing your attention back to Taehyung.

“He may be a good surfer.” You said unconvincingly, “but that doesn’t make him a good teacher.” You shrugged at Taehyung’s now offended expression.

“Ohhhh I like her, can we keep her?” Woo Sik laughed, throwing his arm around your shoulders making you blush.

Taehyung looked pointedly at his friend’s arm around you before he grabbed your forearm and pulled you to him. “Fuck off Woo Sik. I’ll show you a good teacher.”

Before you could protest, he pulled you away, marching towards the side of the hut, you in tow. His friends’ laughter and teasing comments from behind were not lost to your ears. “Careful Taehyung, you may end up drowned in the ocean.”

“Right, first, you need to-” Taehyung started, only to realise he had been speaking into thin air, your form already ahead of him, ready to reach the water. “Oi!” He yelled after you, the panic settling into his heart. The waves were too dangerous for you to get in there straight away. Sprinting he ran as fast as he could, grabbing your shoulder right before you could reach the edge of the sand. “What do you think you are doing?” He huffed, trying to catch his breath.

Looking in between him and the water confusedly, you pointed at it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m uh, taking a dip?” You stared at him, eyes narrowed. “What do you think you’re doing?” You pointed at him, his shirt having unbuttoned after his mad sprint. You would’ve lied if you said it wasn’t distracting, the sight of his collar bones drawing imagery in your head you didn’t wish to have.

“Hyung Sik gave me you as a student, and we are going to learn how to surf. And this” he pointed at you, giving you a chastising look as if you were a petulant child, “is not how you do it.”

“Did I agree with you being my teacher?” You huffed, the idea of being alone with him, in water not sitting well with you. “You can learn how to surf, I will just enjoy my time swimming until someone else is available to teach me.”

Taehyung stared at you, your stubbornness shocking him into silence. “Y/N, you’re a bore.” He shrugged and you gaped at him, offended by what he was implying.

“I am not!” You almost stomped your foot, only stopping yourself when you remembered you were a grown adult not a child. “I can have fun, thank you very much.” Taehyung cocked his eyebrow, the unconvinced expression on his face spurring you on in an attempt to defend yourself. “I once went rock climbing!” You proudly declared, hoping that this would be enough to redeem yourself. You didn’t know why you felt the need to prove him wrong, but the impulse had been there ever since you met him.

“Oh, right. And let me guess, you’ve never done it again after that?” He teased you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Feeling the need to defend yourself you almost lied, ready to tell him that you had done it multiple times after that, but in reality you knew it was not true. So with your head slightly lowered you mumbled a response.

“Ah, I knew it. Tell you what?” He proposed and you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. The way the morning sun caught his brown eyes, making them sparkle, made him look devilishly handsome in your eyes. If it was not for his attitude, you would have probably went for Georgie’s advice and tried to flirt, but this was a hopeless case. “I will make you lose that stuck up city shell in a couple of days.” He proposed, the smug smile on his face egging you on.

You didn’t know what possessed you to agree with it, it may have been your desire to prove him wrong, it may have been your guilty pleasure of being near him, but you readily grabbed his hand and shook it, sealing the deal.

“Fine. Now-” You looked at the ocean, the prospect of being on them on a plank making you gulp. “Where do we start?” You glanced at him, the defiance replaced with uncertainty. You were out of your element, and you were ready to admit that.

Taehyung stifled a laugh at your constipated expression, his heart warming at the thought of you placing his trust in him, regardless of your previous encounters. “Not here, City Girl.” He winked, his hand still in yours, he pulled you further in. “We need to get you used to being on the board first. And those waves will do nothing but swallow you whole.” He pulled you towards the sand, his board already placed on it in position.

“Oh so you are not putting me on a plank in the sea like pirates do huh?” You jokingly nudged him, shoulders more relaxed at the thought of being on land for the time being. Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh at your joke and as he motioned for you to stand on the board he added.

“Nah, we only make you walk the plank as an experienced surfer. For the moment you are a swabby.” He nudged you with his shoulder, making you lose your balance. “Oh lord, we need to work on that.” He sighed and you whined indignantly.

“I was not prepared! I swear my balance is better than that.” Trying to prove him wrong you went to get yourself back into position, only to miscalculate how soft the sand underneath your feet was. With a loud yelp you hurtled towards him, hand barely grazing his shoulder in a futile attempt to steady yourself, and you landed painfully on your knees. Mortified at having displayed such graceful behaviour in front of him you groaned.

“Told you.” Taehyung smiled at you and offered his hand to help you up. Pulling you back onto your feet, you steadied yourself and before the smell of him combined with the scent of the beach could throw you into a daze, you stepped away from him with an awkward cough.

“So what do I do?” You could have cursed yourself for sounding so shy, but the nerves that were piling ever since you arrived at the beach got the better of you. Smirking at you, Taehyung pulled you back onto the board.

“Well, now that I’ve witnessed you fall for me once, let’s work on your balance.” Gaping at his brazen attitude you bit back a snarky remark, settling for cursing him under your breath as you deliberately stepped on his feet.

The rest of the day, you spent in agonising pain, your feet on the board and the sun beating down on your back, your mind muddled with thoughts of the man who happened to have lost his shirt due to the heat, as he put it.

“So we are done?” You couldn’t help but blink at him in gleefulness. The prospect of being near him for longer than necessary made your heart beat out of your chest.

Taehyung laughed at your hopeful expression, undecided whether the small bursts of happiness he felt were because he was just about to burst your bubble or if it was something else.

“Oh no, this is not a one time lesson.” He picked up the surfboard, his warm hand on your naked lower back pushing you towards the ocean.

“We are going to be here for a while.” He smiled at you innocently, and your breath caught in your throat as he leaned down, his breath fanning over your face with a carefree expression. “Every day.” Oh shit.

The morning came too quickly, and you struggled to get yourself out of bed. The prospect of getting more bruised and battered than you were already was not an incentive. Thinking of the previous days of activities reminded you of the man that promised you a fun week. Taehyung drove you up the wall in more ways than one. Half the time you didn’t know whether you wanted to throttle him or kiss him; his demeanour giving you whiplash every time you argued with him. You couldn’t say you had a normal conversation with him since you’d met. First, the airport where he more than readily called you an asshole, then his first appearance at his sister’s house when he called you a maid. The tip of the iceberg were the surfing lessons he’d been roped into by his friends.

Lessons where he insulted you and your skills, whilst his hands were resting on your naked skin, as he tried to steady you on the board. Remembering how his slender hands held you by your naked waist as he barked at you to hold yourself up all but made you groan in frustration. How could such an attractive man have such a sour personality? You couldn’t explain it to yourself, especially when his friends seemed to be the nicest people you’d ever met.

Thinking about their interactions, the brotherly link between all of them, the way Taehyung interacted with them, his carefree attitude and boyish smirk as they teased each other about one thing or another - gave you even more of a headache. Seeing him like this made you realise that there was more underneath the front he put up when talking to you, and you would be lying to yourself if you said his blaise attitude towards life didn’t draw you in.

A knock at the door broke you out of your thoughts, and you scrambled to get out of bed, your foot getting caught. Stumbling, you didn’t think twice about the way you looked, or the fact that you had just woken up; you headed straight towards the front door, opening it.

“Are you going to make it a habit to present yourself in the worst ways possible?” Taehyung’s amused tone greeted you and you yelped, the urge to shut the door once more too strong. But before you could give into the impulse, his foot stuck through the doorway and he slipped inside before you could do anything.

Humming quietly to himself, he made his way towards the pool as if this was his own home. In a way you supposed it was. “Uh, want some coffee?” You offered and he waved you off, not bothering to answer as he slipped outside. You rolled your eyes at his behaviour and turned around towards the kitchen for a much needed coffee, but not before you made a beeline for the bathroom to make yourself presentable.

A few good minutes later, most of which was spent in the bathroom rearranging your hair, you made your way towards the back of the house towards the garden. The early morning air, spiced by the fresh smell of the ocean with floral hints from the gardenias in full bloom, made you smile. Your tense posture relaxed as you sipped your coffee. You took in the bright yellows reflecting in the sky, and the pool which housed a bare chested man.

Sputtering, you coughed out your mouthful of coffee, almost tempted to rub your eyes in case what you saw was a mirage made up by your tired brain. What was Taehyung doing in your pool? His back was towards you and you took the time to observe the way his muscles strained against his sun kissed skin. Mouth hanging open you gulped, the sight of his bare back too much for your brain to handle.

You glanced away before you cleared your throat loudly to get his attention. “Care to tell me what you are doing in the pool?” You questioned, your eyes observing the bushes of manfern. You waited for a full minute before you got a verbal reply, the splashing sounds coming from the side an indication of him approaching you.

“Care to tell me who you’re talking to?” He mocked, your stubbornness amusing him. Pushing himself out of the pool as you turned around to give him a piece of your mind was a disaster waiting to happen. Your words caught in your throat, the sight of his bare chest and water dripping down it reminding you of how lackluster your dating life had been until then.

“Fu- You of course.” You exclaimed, your brain struggling to form a full sentence without a swear word in between.

Taehyung enjoyed the way your cheeks flamed red, the sight of your flustered face made him as amused as it did aroused, with the knowledge that he had been the one to make you that way. “Then, is there a reason you are not looking at the person you are addressing?” He couldn’t help himself, the need to tease you further overweighing everything else. Your reactions were gold to him and he planned to make the most of it.

“Is there a reason you’re naked?” You shot back, your eyes narrowed.

“I went for a swim.” He replied calmly as if you were missing the obvious. “Plus I am not naked, I'm wearing shorts.” He motioned towards his lower half and you couldn’t help but follow his movements, your eyes stuck on his narrow waist and happy trail leading towards imagery you’d rather have not thought of. You redirected your gaze at him, his smirk making you want to clock him in the face.

“Amazing.” You muttered not sure exactly what you may have been referring to. “Now that you are out the pool, can you put a shirt on?” You made a point by grabbing the towel sitting innocently on the back of the lounge chair and throwing it at him. Desperate to change the subject you hurriedly added. “What are you doing here this early? I thought we were meeting at the beach.”

Taehyung struggled not to laugh at your plight and instead he shrugged nonchalantly. “We were, but the waves are wild today. There is no way it’s safe for any of us out there.” He toweled himself and you tried your hardest to keep your eyes trained on his face instead of his well defined abs. “Thought it would be best if we went rock climbing instead.”

His proposition was enough to make you forget his state of nakedness, and you gaped at him. “Definitely not!” You shook your head, arms crossed in defiance. “Nuh-uh, no way.”

“Why are you being such a sourpuss?” He demanded, hands crossed over his chest and you tried your hardest not to stare. The sunrise was casting its rays over the two of you, causing the sheen of sweat and water clinging to his tanned skin to glisten. His stance did nothing to help with your staring, or your desire to reach out and run your hands over his bicep, if only to prove whether or not his skin was as soft as it looked.

With a hard gulp, you forced your gaze away from his naked chest, praying that he hadn't noticed the way it lingered there for a second too long. Locking eyes with his amused ones, the tick at the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise and you felt yourself flush. Mortified at having been caught ogling at the person you’ve readily declared to dislike. His words barely registered in your head as you bristled, “I am not a sourpuss.” You declared, copying his stance, arms crossed over your chest a defiant glint in your eyes.

Taehyung wondered if you realised that your position accentuated your bikini clad upper body. His mouth suddenly became dry as he tried not to stare at the way your breasts pushed upwards, or think how much the blush still dusting your cheeks made him want to act on impulse and kiss you senseless. As rough and blunt as you’d been until then, he couldn’t deny his attraction towards you, your wit and honesty drawing him in.

“I am just cautious.” You were quick to defend yourself, interpreting his stare as his rebuttal towards what you’d just declared. “I don’t like heights.” You mumbled, your arms dropping to your side, turning your gaze towards your feet.

Taehyung’s gaze softened, a small smile flitting over his face before he straightened himself and with a hard tone he replied, “It’s not that high, and you literally decided to ride waves without a second thought. With this at least you have a harness and protection.” He motioned towards the angry wall of water, its height and aggressiveness the only reason why he decided to forego his lessons for the day. He looked at the waves wistfully; for him it would have been the perfect time to ride. Throwing a glance in your direction he shook the thoughts away. You weren’t ready for this, and if turning his back towards the session meant keeping you safe, then he would do it without a second thought. He wouldn’t let you know though, your clear distaste for anything remotely caring coming from him had been made clear earlier that week.

Sighing you nodded, he was right. Gathering your last bit of courage, you straightened yourself, shoulders square staring him straight in the eyes. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Taehyung nodded at you, the desire to take your hand to comfort you was strong, your quivering lip giving away the nervousness underneath the bravado. To prevent himself from further scaring you away, he stuffed his hands inside his pockets and motioned with his head towards his car. “Let’s go then.”

****

The sight of the tall wall in front of you made you gulp, rampant thoughts of how you were going to fall running through your head.

“You scared?” Taehyung asked, his eyes searching yours. At the discomfort he found in them he smiled ruefully. “You’re scared.” He declared and you huffed at him, puffing your cheeks.

“I am not!” You stomped your foot in discontent, closely resembling a child, and Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh. Realising what you’ve done you relaxed your stance before you slowly nodded. “I’m not good with heights.” You mumbled, admitting this to him made you feel ashamed and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes.

Taehyung cleared his throat, berating himself for making you feel self conscious. His intention was to plan an activity that you would not only find fun, but also liberating, not to make you feel inadequate. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with not being good with heights!” He said but you still looked unconvinced. He stopped, his mind trying to find a way to make you feel better. “Ah, did you know I was terrified of water?” At your surprised stare it was his turn to blush. Sharing information not many people knew about him, not even his closest friends, made him nervous.

“You? No way?” Your mouth dropped incredulously. Having witnessed him in the water, you could have sworn he was born in it. “But...you’re so good!” At his sheepish nod you smiled at him, the thought of having knowledge about something so personal to him made you feel warm, a wave of affection washing over you.

“But don’t tell the guys, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He whined and you couldn’t help but laugh at him, the tense atmosphere disappearing into thin air.

“So how did the mighty Kim Taehyung end up loving the water?” You inquired, enjoying the conversation that ensued between the two of you. For the first time since having met him, you spent your time admiring the boyish grin and carefree attitude directed only towards you instead of afar.

****

“Oh my god Taehyung, stop!” You laughed, unable to control your amusement at his actions. Taehyung smiled softly to himself, your laughter echoed in his brain like a song on repeat. Turning towards you with a silly smile he motioned towards the front.

“You ready?” The queue was getting smaller and smaller and you were becoming more and more nervous. Your palms began sweating, and you were certain the feeling of stickiness running down your spine was not just the sun beating down onto your naked back. The encouraging chants in your head weren’t doing a good job of keeping your anxiety at bay anymore and the churning in your stomach was a telltale sign of nausea.

“Y/N, seriously, please stop.” Taehyung grabbed your hands, and you jolted not having realised the tight hold you had on the straps of your bag. Ignoring the warmth of his smooth long fingers prying yours away from each other, you bit your lip, the butterflies in your stomach kicking up a flurry. You could’ve sworn they weren’t there at the beginning, the churning in your stomach feeling different from before. Refusing to glance his way, you kept your eyes locked onto the wire that could be your potential demise. The sight of it combined with the shouts from the people going down was doing nothing to calm your nerves. You didn’t even notice when you allowed Taehyung to interlink your fingers together, or when you gripped his hand tightly in a desperate attempt to ground yourself– but he did.

Taehyung’s gaze flitted towards your hands, the feel of your tight hold on his hand drawing his attention. For a second he allowed himself the illusion of hope, but as soon as he saw the paleness of your skin he quickly acted, afraid you may end up puking before the fun had even begun.

“Come on, we can leave if you want to.” He pulled at your hand gently, the action making you aware of your own deathgrip on his. You let your hand drop, acting as if his touch has burnt you. It may just as well have, the feeling of his warm hand on yours persisted, even after you’d separated.

Chancing a look at the wire and attempting to calculate the distance between it and the ground you hesitated. Your body was screaming at you to turn around, your fear of heights making you tremble on spot. Yet your brain kept reminding you that Taehyung was there, and you wanted to look brave in front of him- if only to prove him wrong. You knew how to have fun.

Hesitating to look him in the eye, you shook your head hoping he wouldn’t be able to read your body language. The urge to grab his hand for comfort was strong, but instead you satisfied it by gripping your shorts tightly. The line moved slowly, and with each step you took closer towards the front you felt the intensity of your trembling knees. Your mouth felt stuffed with cotton balls, and you prayed that Taehyung couldn’t see the way your hands were shaking.

Taehyung observed you for a few seconds, his thoughts at war with each other. On one hand he wanted nothing more than to grab your hand and lend you his strength, on the other, he knew that you would not accept it. Your pride was too strong to accept any consolation from him. However, when he caught sight of your hands almost ripping the pockets of your shorts he made a quick decision to reach out for your hand once more, his strong grip not allowing you to pull away from him even if you wanted to.

Not like you wanted to, as soon as you felt his fingers intertwined with yours, you gulped. Your first reaction was to pull your hand away, but the way his thumb absentmindedly drew patterns on the inside of your wrist made you pause. Was your pulse raised because of your fear of heights, or was it something entirely different this time?

Your fretting thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a cheerfully familiar voice shouting both your names from across the road. “Yo! What are you doing ‘round these parts?” You turned around to face Seo Joon, surprised to discover the question was aimed at you instead of Taehyung. Confused as to why he’d address you first, you pointed to yourself questioningly.

“Yes, you.” Seo Joon laughed. “This loser’s quirks don’t phase me anymore.” He motioned with his thumb towards Taehyung, whose face resembled a perfect picture of a tomato.

Before an argument could break out between the two friends you readily replied, “I uh, Taehyung decided that the waves are too dangerous today, so he brought me here instead.” You shrugged, not meeting Seo Joon’s careful gaze. You didn’t know why, but the way he stared at you made you shy away. He was a handsome man, and you thought that from the beginning. Not like any of Taehyung’s squad was anything but handsome, but Seo Joon’s good looks paired with his wit made you think of him more than the rest.

Your attention focused on the tips of your shoes, you missed the way the two men glanced at each other. Seo Joon’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Did he, now?” He wondered thoughtfully. “But the waves are perfect for a ride today, this sort of aggressiveness,” he stressed out the word and you looked up at him. “Is perfect for a surfer.”

With a cocked eyebrow in Taehyung’s direction, your lips curled into a smile as you turned back to reply to Seo Joon. “Oh, well, he clearly needed a break today then.” You wiggled your brows at him, mocking Taehyung’s habit of dipping out of training and his usual lateness. Leaning towards Seo Joon you whispered loudly, intended for Taehyung to hear. “Do you think he used me as an excuse to get out of it today?” You laughed when Taehyung sputtered in protest.

Seo Joon laughed along with you, the meaningful gaze towards his best friend not lost on you. “Ah, I don't think that is the case Y/N, late as he is, that boy lives riding those waves.” He pointed his thumb towards the ocean. “You should see him and how grumpy he is when we get choppy waves.” He laughed, this time it was his turn to wiggle his eyebrows at you. “I think he had something better in sight this time though.” He winked at you, and you felt the blush returning with furious vengeance. “I wouldn’t blame him.”

You knew what he wanted to imply, but the small glimmer of hope and warmth that took roots in your heart was quickly crushed by Taehyung’s rebuttal. “Don’t get ahead of yourself man, I may be able to ride the waves, but she can’t.” Before he could continue his phone beeped and he excused himself to take it.

You glanced after him, your wistful gaze making Seo Joon smirk as he elbowed you. “Don’t take him seriously, these waves are perfect for you to learn. He’s just a worrywart.”

And just like that, the warmth took hold of you once more, and you smiled hesitantly at him. “Well, if he is such a worrywart, why take me to this place knowing full well I have a fear of heights?” You shrugged, remembering where you were, the thought of hanging above ground only secured by a wire making you shudder with anxiety.

Seo Joon eyed you suspiciously and opened his mouth to say something else but before he could say anything, Taehyung clapped a hand on his back, phone in his other hand. “Ye Won asked about you.” He shrugged as if he was talking about the weather. However, the glint in his eyes and the way Seo Joon blushed made you think there was more to it that met the eye. Looking between the both of them questioningly, you decided to keep your opinions to yourself.

“Right,” Seo Joon awkwardly laughed, “it’s time for me to hit the waves.” Ducking away from Taehyung’s arm, he waved at you and did his signature handshake with Taehyung. “Oh–“ He turned to glance at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “To answer your question, maybe he just wanted to hold your hand and couldn’t find a better excuse.” He winked at you, disregarding the blush that took over your cheeks with a vengeance.

“Yo, what are you telling her?” Taehyung narrowed his eyes, prepared to clock his own friend if needed. He knew that Seo Joon had nothing but respect towards you, but the furious red that coloured the tip of your ears made him doubt the relationship the two of you had.

Seo Joon rolled his eyes at his friend’s possessiveness over you, and with a well placed slap landed on his back he loudly stated, “That you need to man up. Oh… and remember to tell her about the party Hyung Sik’s throwing tonight.”

“The what?” You glanced between the two, blush subsided, wondering what they had’t told you.

“Our monthly get together. Don’t worry.” He advised when he saw you bite your lip. “Woo Sik will pick you up if this one doesn’t grow a pair.” With that he disappeared as soon as he came, leaving you and Taehyung to deal with a load of unpacked baggage.

The two of you stared at each other in stupefied silence, thoughts running through your head.

“Uh–“ Taehyung mumbled, the panic of having been put on the spot by his friend rendering him speechless.

“Don’t worry, Woo Sik can come and get me.” You hurried, the heat from your blush refusing to go down. You ignored the way your heart constricted when he didn’t argue against it, and instead pulled you out of the line.

“Yeah, it’s late. Maybe we should call it a day, so you can get ready.” Taehyung didn’t know what possessed him, but hearing you accept his friend’s invite so readily made him feel bitter,

****

True to his word, Woo Sik came to pick you up, his dashing figure clad in a colourful shirt. The bright green contrasted greatly with his baby blue shorts, and you couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“What? Am I not a perfect summer vibes model?” He gestured to himself and you chuckled, shaking your head at him.

“Of course you are.” You stepped around him patting his shoulder as you went, only to come face to face with the man who occupied your thoughts earlier. “Oh–“

Taehyung smiled at you, “Hey.” He greeted with an awkward wave and you were almost tempted to pick on his lack of snark. But one look at his sheepish grin made you pause.

“Hi?” You returned the bashful grin, your heart pumping blood straight to your face, a flush making its way onto your cheeks.

“I uh, came to pick you up?” He motioned towards the car in the driveway. “Well, we did.” He added to your confused expression. “I don’t have a functioning car.” He clarified, hands running through his hair- a nervous tick you’d picked up on.

“He means to say, he totaled it earlier this month, so I'm the designated driver.” Woo Sik shook his head, turning around to walk to his car. “You coming lovebirds?” He added, smirking to himself as he heard the two of you sputter behind him. “I wanna get going before sunrise.”

****

The party involved a lot of dancing, drinking and avoiding each other. Either using a member of the squad or the toilet as an excuse, you managed to not see Taehyung for longer than a few seconds for most of the night.

Exiting through the back into the garden you took a deep breath in, the stifling atmosphere from inside felt too much to handle. The sound of crickets and birds drowned out the sound of the heavy bass coming from inside the house the further you walked away from it.

“Hey.” The sudden appearance of the man you had been avoiding the whole night made you jump and you couldn’t stop the loud curse that slipped past your lips.

“Shit, I'm sorry!” He apologised, his hand grazing yours. There was a brief awkward silence as you sat down on the bench next to him and gathered the courage to speak up.

“Thank you.” You whispered, your hand pulling at his colourful shirt. This time he chose to wear a pattern, foregoing the usual creams, and you were glad for that. Pretending to observe the swirls and shapes on his top you didn’t raise your eyes to meet his. “For earlier.”

Taehyung was silent for a moment, his eyes taking in the scenery. The sight of the unusually calm ocean, baby waves breaking onto the golden shore brought him a sense of peace. He was annoyed that the waves were choppy that day, however, he did it for a reason and that was enough for him. “It’s nothing.” He shrugged hoping he sounded impassive. “You paid for a lesson which I couldn't deliver, it would’ve been a waste of time to not do this.” He shifted in his seat, the drink in his hands suddenly becoming the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

“O-oh right, yes of course.” He was right, and you knew it, but you couldn’t help the crestfallen look on your face as you toyed with your top.

You were a fool to think that he may have done it for you. How could he, the only reaction you’d shown him since you met was anger, annoyance, and very little interest. Your city girl, devil may care attitude making you act self sufficient. Never once have you considered that it may be a hindrance. The city was ruthless, you needed to be as strong as possible to survive in the midst of a dog eat dog world. Especially in your field. There was no place for weakness. But maybe this caused you to forget the simple joys of life.

However, since coming here a couple of weeks ago; living in paradise and having the chance to discover a life outside of pavements, and the rush of the 8am crowd trying to get to work, you visibly let down your guard. Meeting Taehyung, as much of a rocky start you two have had in the beginning, ended up being a blessing in disguise. Him and his squad showed you what living outside of your head and responsibilities meant - and you couldn’t be more grateful towards them. Especially the handsome man that decided to make it his personal mission to show you what ‘living life really meant’ - as he put it.

Truth was, despite your differences at the beginning, you knew you’d developed feelings for him. Seeing his affectionate side carefully chipped away at your perfectly crafted city girl tough act. Cautiously glancing at him, you took your time to commit to memory his calm and peaceful features, the ocean breeze blowing through his hair. And as you gazed at him, the shining dots from the city around you casting their glow over the both of you, you let yourself admit you were in love. In that moment nothing else mattered, not even the hefty amount of alcohol you drank. In retrospect, it should have been a warning sign, a signal for you to stop and think about your actions.

At the time, you didn’t care, the alcohol merely liquid courage for you to do what you had always wanted to. Carefully taking a step towards Taehyung, you reached for the hand closer to you, fingers brushing over his. As soon as he froze, you did too, your breath caught in your throat, scenarios of him walking away from you running through your head. It only took a second though, for him to alleviate your worries, his hand completing the journey of yours, fingers tightly woven together.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Taehyung breathed and you looked up at him in surprise. You didn’t know whether you said it out loud, or he was a mind reader, nor did you care. Those words were all you needed to hear. With a satisfied smile you bravely pulled yourself closer to him, head leaning on his shoulder.

****

The blissful feeling that wrapped itself around your whole being as you closed the door behind you, felt like a dream. Taehyung’s hand in yours, the two of you giggling like children as you drunkenly bumped into walls, you had never felt so carefree in your life, and you basked in the feeling, somehow aware, in the back of your mind that it may not last forever. But for that night, nothing else mattered but the two of you, and the summer evening was sweetened by the taste of alcohol on your lips.

“Shhh.” You loudly whispered bursting out into uncontrollable laughter when you realised the ridiculousness of the situation. Pulling him all the way into the garden, you settled for the bench behind the main palm tree. A bench where if you say you couldn’t see the sea, but if you dared look up, you could see the stars hanging above your head. Doing exactly that, your eyes narrowed, your whole attention onto the pitch black blanket littered by jewels.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asked curiously, when you started counting the stars out loud.

“Counting stars.” You stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You should try it.” You turned around with a soft smile on your face as the moon and stars formed a halo around you, giving you an ethereal glow.

“I–“ he ran a hand through his unruly hair, the dark brown locks reminding you of deep rich chocolate. “You are leaving soon right?” He hesitated, the words bitter on his tongue. You couldn’t find the strength to reply, the words stuck in your throat so you settled for a light nod.

The silence that settled over the two of you felt uncomfortable and you shifted, the bench you two sat on making it difficult for you to not lean against him.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, feeling the beginning of a blush wash over you. He felt hot, the smell of sun and sea clinging onto his skin and you wanted nothing more but to bury yourself into his embrace.

Taehyung’s deep inhale brought you out of your own thoughts, finding the heat emanating off of him distracting. “I wish you wouldn’t leave so soon.” He whispered under his breath, making yours hitch in your throat. You glanced at him from under your lashes, only to discover that his whole attention was on the sky above your heads.

“What are you doing?” You blinked at him, throwing back at him his question from earlier. When he turned his attention back to you, the twinkle in his eyes seemed to shine as brightly as the lights above you.

“I’m wishing on a star.” He simply said, turning his attention back to the blanket of stars, completely oblivious to how his words had shifted your world.

****

Following your blissful few days with Taehyung, reality set in with a call that was enough to bring your world to a halt. Everything seemed to be sinking down into the ocean you had come to love. As you stared at your laptop screen, the words you wrote to Ye Won the day before about still sticking around in a hotel for another few weeks felt completely moot. The thought of having to not only say goodbye to her, but also her brother, the man who showed you that life was indeed more than pavements and pay raises, brought tears in your eyes.

It felt too good to be true, and maybe in a way, it was. You lived your summer of love, as brief as it had been, it was time to return to the real world. The words that kept ringing in your head after the call you had with your manager made you fall deeper and deeper into despair. You’re fired, the project fell through. No explanation as to why this would have been the reason to fire you, nor why they were not firing anyone else that had worked on that project, the call ended and left you empty and lifeless.

“Y/N.” Taehyung’s voice reverberated through the corridor as he made his way in and broke you out of your daze. With a sniffle, you wiped the stream of tears that continued to run down your face, but it was a futile attempt as not a second later he walked into the kitchen, catching you mid sob.

“Y/N.” Taehyung was not expecting to come in and find you looking so crestfallen, the dejected look on your face was a spear through his heart. Blissfully unaware of your situation he wondered what happened. “Are you...crying?” He cautiously approached you, not knowing what to do. His instincts telling him to comfort you, he tried to touch your trembling hand but you pulled away from him with such force he had to take a step back.

“I need to go.” You stood up from the counter, your eyes locked onto the clock ticking on the wall. A good reminder that time cannot stand still for you or your fancies. Taehyung’s pained expression did little to phase you, the panic in your heart, as reality began to set in, overriding any other thought or feeling. Despite the blissful weeks you’ve had with him, being accepted by the crew you knew it was time to wake up and realise this was not your reality.

“No.” Taehyung’s determined tone made you falter, and you looked at him eyes wide open in surprise.

“What do you mean no?” You questioned him, the weight of his words hitting you like a hammer to the head.

“You have been the better part of these past few weeks, I can’t let you go just like that. Not after that night. I don’t know what happened to make you change your mind, but it is fixable.” He explained, his hopeful expression making you resent him, and most importantly yourself. You fell into the trap of summer love, where emotions explode. But just like any other explosion, once the debris settles, there is only dust and ruin left. He had done nothing wrong, if there was one person to be blamed, it would be you. It hurt to know you were the one at fault, yet he would also be paying the price for your stupidity.

“Unfortunately my life doesn’t just revolve around you, or Hawaii, or this carefree attitude. I lost my job Taehyung.” You exclaimed, putting the necessary distance in between you and him, the distance that you should have made your heart set as well. “I have to find a job now, and all my life is back in London. This is borrowed time. Not my life.”

“Can you not see me as part of your life?” He pleaded, a last desperate attempt to grasp at smoke.

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head, the heaviness that settled over your heart almost suffocating. In fact the sight of him did little to bring any good memories that you’ve had in this place, it only served as a reminder of what you couldn't have. Of what was not yours to take. “I’m sorry, I-” You paused wondering what you were doing, why were you bartering your heart like that. You cared for him, that much you knew yet, your mind knew it wasn’t enough for you to drop what you had known for a whole life.

“My flight is leaving soon.” You whispered, the silence that followed your earlier outburst too much for your guilt to be able to handle. You knew you were damaging a budding relationship, that you dared not think, may have been the best relationship you’ve ever had.

Taehyung didn’t dare utter another word. He couldn’t. He knew you needed to get away, he was more than aware that you needed space, even if that meant he had to watch you drag your suitcases out the door that shut right behind you, putting more and more distance between him and you.

****

“Georgie, no!” You shook your head vehemently at your friend, her pleading face doing nothing to soften your resolve. “I am not going to accept this.”

You quickly paced around the room as you hurriedly unpacked your bags from your trip doing your best to ignore the other person lounging like a cat on your sofa. You’d been away for a couple of days, the old city of Edinburgh being your destination. You may have enjoyed your time there a bit too much given the workload of your new job. So much that you barely had time to breathe. But this was what you needed. Time spent not at work meant time for your brain to start thinking about an island, and waves, and most importantly, surfers. Specifically one surfer.

“Come on, Y/N!” Georgie’s pout almost reached the floor yet you still wouldn’t budge. “It’s been a while since you’ve been on a date!” She tried to reason with you. Unbeknownst to her, this only served as fuel for your rising anger.

“Look Georgie, I have been on a date, and I did tell you about it.” You angrily slammed the dirty laundry in the basket. “And before you say anything, yes I did enjoy myself but–“ you paused, the strength you had earlier waning. Suddenly you felt tired, and with a sigh you let yourself fall onto the couch next to her. Rubbing your eyes, your mind once again invaded by sun kissed skin and the smell of salt, you tried your hardest to keep everything at bay.

“Oh love.” Georgie shifted on the couch, her warm hand enveloping yours in comfort. “I’m sorry, it’s just–“ she paused, offering your desperate look a rueful smile. “I just want to see you happy. You lost your job–“ you started to protest but she held her hand up to stop you. “As I was saying, you lost your job, and lost your heart, and all in the span of two months. And then you come back, get a new job within weeks and act like nothing has happened. I’m just worried about you.” She squeezed your hand and you felt your carefully crafted mask slip away. She was your best friend, if you couldn’t talk to her then who could you talk to?

“I just, I miss him.” The admittance tumbling out of your mouth made you feel so much lighter. Not better by any means, it just reiterated the feeling of hurt and hopelessness. You were more than aware it was your fault you’ve been feeling like this.

“It’s my fault.” You whispered, the desperation causing your voice to crack. Georgie sighed, and enveloped you into a hug, allowing you to hide your wayward tears into her top.

“It’s not your fault.” She argued, patting your back in a comforting way. “It isn’t.”

“But it is!” You sniffed, another sob wrecking through your body. “He confessed for God’s sake! And I left!” Not bothering to hide your sobs, you let yourself go, crying for what may have been, crying for Taehyung and his crestfallen expression when you announced you were leaving.

“Go back.” Georgie simply said and you pulled away from her, an incredulous look on your face.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t want to hear from me again.” You shook your head, your tears at bay for now. Sliding away from her, you put some distance between the two of you and you rubbed away the last stubborn tears. “It’s ok, I can do this. It’s just another hiccup.” You didn’t know where this strength was coming from, but you weren’t going to question it. You were not back in Hawaii anymore, no. You were in London. And you couldn't afford to live the same life you did in Hawaii. Emotions would have to wait.

“Right.” Georgie nodded at you unconvinced.

“Look–“ you sighed, “I will go on this blind date. If only to get used to being amongst Londoners again.” You laughed wryly, the feel of a new resolve making you hopeful. Yet, why did it feel like your heart was shattering even further?

When you agreed to go on a blind date you weren’t expecting to find yourself in front of the Tiki bar in the middle of the city, completely overdressed for the location. Glancing up at the colourful sign you sighed, trust Georgie to set you up with someone you would most likely not click with in the least.

Entering the bar, you tried to not get overwhelmed at the overly done decorations, tempted to stop a waiter, tell them how much you hated the place and leave. Had it been you before London, you may have even done that, but now you swallowed your words and instead approached them for a table.

“What name?” He inquired, tapping on his Ipad and you paused realising you had no name to give them.

“Uh, Y/N?” You tried, but when he shook his head your face fell. How were you meant to find the table without a name? You couldn’t just walk around the whole place asking people if they were waiting for their very late blind date.

“Excuse me, it’s Kim.” A deep voice spoke from behind you and you froze. Not only did you recognise the name, but also you recognised the voice better than your own. You dreamt of that voice. You didn’t dare turn around, not wanting to get your hopes up. Kim was a fairly common name, and London was big, maybe you were wrong.

Steeling your heart, hoping it didn’t jump out of your chest with how fast it was beating, you turned around.

“Hello, I'm Kim Taehyung, I believe I am your date for the evening?” Your mouth fell, eyes wide open and you seemed to have lost the ability to speak. Only when the waiter asked you to follow him did you move, your feet carrying you automatically as your mind was too busy trying to comprehend the situation.

“This place is all wrong.” You heard the mutter coming from behind you and you would have laughed had it not been for the rampant way your heart seemed to be racing. You wanted to turn around, to ask him what he thought he was doing there, but you didn’t have the courage to do so.

Brought to a table near the open windows, you chuckled at the discrepancy between the atmosphere inside the bar and the crisp air of nighttime London.

“It’s ridiculous isn’t it?” Taehyung joined you at the table, his hesitancy to pull the chair for you sorted by the waiter. Still chuckling, you glanced at him, the sparkle in his eyes making your breath catch. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t missed this, the glint in his eyes when his boxy wide smile took over. The mole on the tip of his nose, which you couldn’t see because of the lights in the bar but you knew it was there, having been close enough to him to observe it in detail.

“You’re not a Londoner.” You whispered to yourself and he laughed lightly, having heard you. “What–“ your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, clammy hands wiping themselves onto your skirt underneath the table. “What are you doing here?” You decided to take the bull by the horns, not wanting to waste another minute with mindless chat. The two of you have been through enough to skirt around sensitive topics.

Taehyung looked at you, the smile slipping off his face slowly, until it was gone, his expression becoming thoughtful. You had the urge to poke the crease between his furrowed eyebrows, loathing the knowledge he felt like this. But you chose to stay seated, hands gripping at your skirt, waiting for his response. You didn’t know when he became the one person who could make you or break you, but he did. The power this man had over you was absolutely impressive.

“I, uh–“ he rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish look on his face.

“Better yet, how did this,” you motioned between the two of you “–happen?” If you saw the flash of hurt cross Taehyung’s you didn’t mention it. Patiently waiting for him to answer, you knew you were putting him selfishly in a tight spot. He wasn’t the one who decided to give up on you. It was the other way round.

“Ye Won and your friend may have had something to do with it.” He sighed, his attention to the bypassers across the street. He tried hard to not look at you, he didn’t want to see once more the rejection in your eyes.

Waiting for him to turn around to face you, you stayed silent. You wanted to reach out across the table, his hand conveniently placed for you to grab it. But the knowledge of what he may be feeling stopped you, you had no right.

“But, why?” You stammered, your thoughts in disarray. There was so much you wanted to tell him, ask him, but you couldn’t get yourself to utter them outloud.

Taehyung turned his gaze back to you, the intensity with which his eyes bore through you made you shiver, your breath caught in your throat. It felt as if your soul lay naked before him, and as much as you wanted to look away you couldn’t. For a few seconds neither of you dared to break the silence that settled between the two of you.

“I promised–“ he paused to gather his thoughts, and you waited breath abated. “I promised I would always be there.” He admitted and you let out an involuntary whimper, his words piercing through your heart.

Taehyung gathered all his strength to carry on with his confession, the thought of you rejecting him once again weighing heavily on his mind. Last time he bit the bullet, diving in head on not considering what you may have been feeling, his own wishes overpowering any other considerations. “So I want to be there, regardless of how you want me to be there for you.”

He tried to be as nonchalant as possible, but the pleading look he offered you betrayed the emotional storm he felt inside. His words shifted something deep inside of you. As a city girl born and raised between pavements and tall buildings, you learnt that courage to stick up for yourself was an important survival trait. Hearing him confess his feelings not only once, but twice, made you realise that courage lies in more than one aspect. And you’ve been nothing but a coward.

“I’m in love with you.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. Eyes wide at your own admission you waited for him to say something.

“I–“ Taehyung felt disarmed. He had a long speech planned, he knew you’d not be easily swayed so he came with a foolproof plan, that not only Ye Won may have had a hand in but also your friends. To hear you say you were in love with him, as ecstatic as it made him feel, his brain struggled to catch up with what was happening.

“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sprung this on you. But I don’t think I would've been able to live with myself if I didn’t get this off my chest.” You reasoned. “I was stupid, and inconsiderate, and I’m sorry–“

The warmth of his hand enveloping yours made you freeze, your eyes locked onto the table, unable to meet his. Neither of you said a word for a while, the tropical music playing in the background making you feel uneasy.

“Where is the waiter?” You tried your hardest to change the subject, eyes scouring the place, doing your best to not glance at the dark haired man in front of you. The subtlety with which you tried to pull your hand away from him didn’t go unnoticed as Taehyung squeezed it, his attempt at keeping you there with him.

“Y/N.” The desperate plea in his voice stopped you dead in your tracks, your eyes now searching his instead of a place to escape to. The pain in his eyes made you realise he thought you were planning to reject him once more, completely oblivious to reality.

“You think I am going to leave you?” You breathed out, shocked. Taehyung didn’t reply but he didn’t need to, the frown marring his face was enough proof. You knew it wasn’t appropriate, but the ridiculousness of the situation made you burst out in laughter.

“I just told you I loved you, you idiot.” You huffed, Taehyung’s eyes widening at your obvious annoyance.

“But–“ He stammered, trying to make sense as to why you’d ask about the waiter.

“We should go.” You supplied shrugging while still looking around for the missing person. The relief Taehyung felt at your words could be easily read in the chuckle that escaped him. “I don’t know about you, but I'd rather not cause a scene here.” You finished, and when you still couldn’t locate the waiter you abruptly got up, pulling Taehyung along with you.

“Are you saying this is going to go down with a big emotional confession?” He couldn’t help himself as he teased you, the glimmer of mischievousness you found in his eyes making your heart beat faster.

“Oh shush you, otherwise I’ll leave you here.” You said as you navigated through the tables. There was nothing wrong with leaving before telling someone, but with his hand in yours, the lightness in your heart after your admittance made you feel like you were a teenager about to jump into the neighbour’s pool for a midnight swim.

“Can’t do that,” he teased as you both made your way outside into the chillier London air. Once out of view, he pulled you to him. “You just admitted you loved me.”

Hearing him say the words out loud made your breath catch in your throat. And without a second thought you stood on your tiptoes, your palms resting on his chest for stability. “Well loverboy, I can always take it back.” You whispered, your lips ghosting over his in a shy kiss.

In hindsight, you should have known not to tease him, as the force with which he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you to him, his lips searching for yours took you by surprise. The heat of his lips, slightly bruising, felt familiar, like home, and you soon lost yourself in it. A satisfied sigh escaped you and you let your hands wonder, as he coaxed your lips open, his tongue searching for yours.

The loud whistle from a taxi driving past you made you remember you were still in the middle of the city, out in the open for everyone to see.

“And we still managed to cause a scene.” You laughed pulling yourself away, his hand not leaving your midriff. “Let's go, where are you staying?” You asked, quickly realising you didn’t even know why he was there in the first place.

“The office.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t an important bit of information and you looked at him questioningly. “I uh–, came here for the opening of my new branch. My office decided to extend from the US to the UK which was the perfect opportunity .” The tone of his voice was so neutral you could’ve fooled yourself he was talking about the weather instead of important information which he ought to have shared a while ago.

“You–“ you stopped yourself from chastising him, he could fill you in on this later. For now you just wanted to enjoy your newfound summer love and hopefully help it grow into something more as time went by.

“You didn’t think I only surfed right?” He laughed, his fingers digging into your hip as he glanced down at you. Blushing at his softened gaze you shook your head and mumbled under your breath. “What was that?” He cocked his head to the side, his smile growing bigger.

“Doesn’t matter, you can tell me all this when we are on the tube.” You hurriedly supplied, before looking at him with an impish smile. “Or, we could–“ you stopped walking and turned around to face him. “Just do,” you placed a suggestive hand on his chest, your voice low, “other things on the tube.”

“The tube?” His eyes widened and you laughed reaching up on your tiptoes to kiss him again. Grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze you pulled away and winked at him.

“Don’t worry, it’s like riding a wave.”

main masterlist

[fleursdemeduse]

Remembrance AU: Constant Dying

This is not going in the direction that was originally planned, but I'm not sure I'm too upset by it. I'm glad to finally post a part that goes a bit further into Techno's feelings about you this time, though. I'm also starting to work on an angsty Simpbur fic alongside this one, so keep an eye out for that.

Warnings: Mention of death ; Near-death

Words: 3.6k

Your legs throbbed as you trudged through the multiple paths to where you and Techno had been mining. Your neck wasn’t fairing much better. There was always residual pain after a death, especially when you were killed by your own stupidity and not mobs or someone else. You were more than happy to take hits for your friend, often shielding his body with your much smaller one to protect him, but natural deaths were pointless to you. Not to mention that dying this many times in such a short period made an ache develop on the right side of your brain and you knew you wouldn’t be able to be rid of it for hours. You finished descending carved stairs to where you believed you had been and let out a sigh at the effort. Your chest filled with a dull ache at the action. A firework to the chest was certainly a quick way to die. It was far from the most painful as long as it got the job done in one or two shots and the ache would only last another hour or two if you would stop dying.

You thought back on how the events from earlier in the day had transpired. The entire thing had been a shit show and you loathed the next time you’d speak to Wilbur, knowing you were likely going to just yell at him. You weren’t in a great mood because of his little stunt. At least you knew why Techno had killed you and several others on the server. There was no reason for him to sit back and watch Tubbo be executed by your dearest friend. You could only hope that the boys new scars weren’t too bad. He’d have to display them for the rest of this lifetime, after all. Maybe he’d think they were cool like Tommy did.

You slowly unclenched your jaw and relaxed your shoulders, smiling a little at the thought of blond that you spent the other half of your days doting on. He was like the little brother you had always imagined wanting. Mumza had filled your prayers in some fashion, you supposed. A small chuckle spilled from your lips, deciding you’d make Technoblade pay you back somehow for your deaths today. You were up to three now.

A smile curled your lips as you thought of the possibilities. Maybe you’d steal his crown for a little bit. Or his cloak. You giggled to yourself as you crossed the lava pit that you were going to use later for obsidian. Mining in caves this deep was difficult enough without mobs so the lava was a good way to make sure none spawned nearby. Perhaps you could get away with all of the above with the addition of forcing him to make you a cup of tea. That would certainly be fair, wouldn’t it? You were sure if you convinced chat, you’d be able to make him do it.

The ore had been mostly cleared out, all that remained were long tunnels deep underground spanning for what felt like forever. It took you a good chunk of time, but finally you approached him from behind. He had continued mining, cobblestone covering the hole that you had fallen down and ultimately died upon impact in. “You grabbed my stuff, right?”

He pointed to the chest that had been set up, not stopping his assault on a piece of diorite. You flipped open the lid, pulling out several stone pickaxes he had managed to pick up. You didn’t suppose he had kept most of the stone, leaving it in the cave, but the ores, redstone, and lapis you had gathered sat untouched in the chest. “I don’t understand why you continue to use those. They’re flimsy.”

You shrugged before joining his side again, mining away the soft rock. “Because I can keep a large stock of them and don’t have to waste the durability of my diamond one.” You stopped paying attention to the coal you mined at above you as you looked towards him. “Besides, they’re expendable and I don’t have to worry about retrieving them every time I-”

Gravel began to fall on and around you in heavy chunks, obscuring your vision. You were startled for a moment at the sudden assault and you cursed your horrible luck. Of course the moment you were back and trying to resume your task, you’d almost die again. You recovered quickly, feeling the pressure around you as you were crushed and tried to dig your way out of the pile, but more seemed to just fall and replace the gravel you had just removed. It was suffocating. Rocks grated against your skin and you cringed at the sound of them rubbing against each other. You tried to claw your way through, fingers getting scraped as small pebbles cut the flesh. You were running out of air. You hated dying like this.

A hand grasped your bicep and you grunted as you were yanked out of the rubble. Rocks and flint shifted around you as it gave way and filled in the spot where you had just been. A broad chest cushioned you as you stumbled forward. You sucked in air as you rested your forehead against him. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone screw something up that fast before."

Your laugh was more of a wheeze as you smacked your hand against him, next to where your head rested. You didn’t move, however. Techno chuckled as he pat your back. He’d let you have your moment to calm yourself back down. He wasn’t particularly scared of you dying again, but he knew it had to have sucked. You had been taking the brunt of damage meant for him since, well, every time the two of you spent time together, and he didn’t understand why you were so eager to do it. On top of your clumsiness that already resulted in countless other deaths he didn’t know about, you died for him often when it would have probably only resulted in a minor wound for him. You were so reckless. But that smile you gave him every time somehow dissipated his annoyance more than it should have. It was familiar somehow. The voices loved it more than they should have. They loved you more than they should have.

You didn’t care who he was, how he was, what he did, if he could do something for you. You cared about him. Whenever he was giving too much to the rebellion, whenever he was hyper fixated on tasks and was trapped in his own brain with only chat as company, you were always there. They didn’t mind receding to the back of his head while you two talked, adding in small quips here and there. The loud roar they normally were was typically a small rumble when you were talking. It put him on edge with how much they liked you, but he couldn’t blame them. You provided conversation more often than not. You offered simpler solutions to long problems in his head he’d been breaking apart over and over until it had spiraled into a bigger one than it had started out at. But besides that, you also forced him to sleep, to remember to drink water, to take time for himself. To care about himself the way you did. He didn’t know how to repay you for the unending kindness you showed him. Especially when all you asked for was his friendship in return.

He felt you sigh against him and he moved his arm to free you. You were looking up at him, though, not stepping away.

"Are you alright?" His lips twitched. Shouldn’t he be asking you that?

"Yeah, why?"

"You look mad." A snort escaped him. You couldn’t even see his expression past the mask.

"That's just my face.” You didn’t look convinced. He ran his fingers through your hair, knocking some debris loose. It fell to the floor at your feet. He ignored the way you leaned into his touch. “I’m alright, [y/n].”

You smiled at him. You smiled that cursed smile. It made him feel worthy of the title god; so full of reverence and kindness. You had to have been blessed by Kristin herself. How could you still look upon him like that after what had happened at the festival? How could you show such adoration for a-

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” He turned his head away. He didn’t feel like he deserved to be the recipient of that smile made from sheer adoration. Your eyebrows furrowed and your smile wavered.

“Looking at you like what?”

“Like how Wilbur looks at you.” Your laugh rang through the tunnels. It echoed off the walls and he couldn’t help the swell of something in his chest. For a moment, you reminded him of Phil.

“Why is it a bad thing if I look at you like he does to me? He’s a really dear friend.” Oh dear.

“Don’t tell him that.” The idea of you only seeing him as a friend would break his heart floated unspoken in the air. You didn’t seem to notice it.

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.” Techno stepped back from you when it was obvious you weren’t going to do it yourself. He watched you deflate slightly and felt like he had done something wrong.

“It’s not like he wants to talk to me now anyways.” You picked up your pickaxe again, moving to work on the pile of gravel. He offered you his shovel and you took it. “He hasn’t said a word to me since the festival earlier.”

“I’m honestly surprised you’re still talkin’ to either of us after that debacle.” You paused your digging to look at him curiously. “After me bein’ peer pressured into killin’ Tubbo and everyone else. Killin’ you. His plan to do nothin’ ‘bout it. It’s surprisin’ that you aren’t givin’ us both the silent treatment.”

You scoffed, going back to the gravel in front of you. “That wasn’t his plan.”

Techno stilled, his eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

“Wilbur wasn’t planning on just doing nothing. He has TNT planted all around Manburg.” You hesitated, the grip on his shovel tightening in your trembling hands as you continued digging. “I don’t know why he didn’t set it off.”

There was no sound next to you or behind you. Stopping your work, you looked at him, only to see him looking towards where the mouth of the cave was. “We should be gettin’ back.”

A soft sigh left your mouth. “Go on ahead, I’m right behind you.”

You didn’t want to face the fallout.

You returned to Pogtopia late that night. Mining alone had been a good way to soothe your nerves after the events that had happened earlier. Whilst you had wished Techno had been there longer, you understood wanting to regroup. Today had been stressful for all of you.

You walked down the crude steps that had been made after putting the excess resources into the communal chest at the top. There was soft murmuring and the distant sound of Wilbur’s cackle put you a little on edge, but you soldiered on. It’s okay. Tubbo hopefully would have respawned by now. Things would go on. You froze at the top of the walkway down to the primary meeting area.

Techno was wrapping his knuckles with some extra gauze you recognized to be from your chest. Tommy was sitting a little away from him, his back to the wall and his knees to his chest. There was a distant look in his eyes as he stared at the ground in front of him. You could see a sliver of one of your plasters on his face, the bluish purple fabric and white dots a dark galaxy against his pale cheek. Your feet were moving before your brain as you ran to the teenage boy and knelt before him. You should have come back sooner. You reached out to hold him before hesitating, choosing instead to extend your hand to examine the flesh around the bandage. “You look horrible, Tommy. What happened? I thought you were safe after what happened at the festival.”

Techno grunted from the sidelines. “We resolved our issues.”

The boy before you huffed, still looking at the ground, but he leaned into your touch. “Resolved is a strong word, but we’re okay. For now.” He looked up at you and you pursed your lips together. He relaxed at the worry in your eyes. He was safe with you. “Where were you?”

“I was mining. I needed to blow off steam after all of that.” The blond just nodded, pressing his face further into your touch. You moved closer to brush some of the golden locks away from his face with your free hand. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Techno was suddenly beside you both, towering over the two of you. “It stays in the pit.”

You sent him an inquisitive look. “The pit?”

He only nodded and your frown deepened. Anger started to fester in you. Did he do this? To a child? “We are definitely discussing this later, Technoblade.” You watched his shoulders tense for a moment. You didn’t know if it was because of your tone or the use of his full name, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. You’d take care of it later. You two always talked things through, and now would not be any different, but you had to worry about Tommy. “You can’t just hurt people and say things are better now.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but you were already helping the blond up to shuffle him to your bed. The child kept trying to wave you off, but you persisted. Despite your ire against him, something shifted in his chest at watching how gentle you were with Tommy. His bond with you was truly something to behold.

Why aren’t they paying attention to us like earlier?

They’re so sweet to him.

Tommy's lucky we didn’t accidentally kill him.

I wonder how they’re so close.

E.

I don’t want to talk to them later.

Why are they mad at us?

E.

So they’re not upset about the festival, but they’re upset about a fight with Tommy? That makes no sense.

Follow them.

This is stupid.

E.

Do they like him more?

Techno sat back in his spot against the ravine wall. He saw traces of a fireplace and used the heel of his boot to push around the sooty remains. Most of the questions chat had were valid, but he didn’t want to pursue you. He didn’t want to have that conversation later, either. He just wanted to move on. But he knew you wouldn’t. Something about how resentment ruins friendships and miscommunication was the biggest cause. He could never resent you. Sometimes he resented the gods, but never you.

He wanted to know what kind of entertainment DreamXD and Kristin got out of watching them over and over and over again. Did they have nothing better to do than continuously create and orchestrate each new lifetime? Each new world with different rules and a different storyline? Or recreate other worlds just to change the plot? There had been so many, but this was the first where they all remembered. This was the first where he had met you.

Techno closed his eyes. None of his lives had been bad. Well, particularly bad. Wilbur always seemed to get off worse than he did. Tommy sometimes worse than them both.

He remembered a life of gilded castles, one of many. He trained Wilbur and Tommy in combat. He studied politics and was a general. He watched the two of them grow up in Phil’s absence. There were handmaidens that were too bold in their words, butlers that were too polite, and inside jokes between him and the guards. There were dinners made of things that he only wished they could recreate here. He remembered that despite any squabbling, they were still very much a family. He knows Tommy remembers that one all too clearly. He doesn’t talk about it often, but Techno knows the look in his eyes whenever Phil is mentioned. He also speaks sometimes about the servant that once tended to his mother but he nor Wilbur could ever recall one. Too many faceless employees. Too many nameless soldiers.

He remembered a different life where Hanahaki Disease roamed rampant. The flowers infected most of the people he knew. Sometimes they got better, sometimes they didn’t. Phil would never catch it. The blurry memory of his friend saying so flashed briefly in his head. That fact didn't surprise him in the least. Phil was a catch. But he had never had to deal with the deadly buds either. He couldn't remember why. His head throbbed gently as he tried to wade through the fog. Wilbur had suffered from it, though. It was devastating when he passed. The flowers choked him, stuffing his airways with petals. Who had he loved so much it killed him? Didn't he love anyone like that? Didn’t he find someone so beautiful that dying was more preferable than a life without them? Maybe he did. There were small flashes in his head of the gentle squeeze of a hand and a smile that could snuff out the sun. Why couldn't he seem to remember their face?

There was another life. A life where markings appeared on his skin. Little scratches, cuts and scrapes that weren't his, doodles, words that he would have never written himself. He remembered sitting through a lecture once, smiling at the little stars that speckled his arm and slowly appeared like the night sky in the twilight of the setting sun. Wilbur had shown off the same markings, and it was brutal irony that the two of them shared this connection with a third. They would play games frequently. Mostly twenty questions or tic tac toe, but locations and true names were always burning scribbles on their flesh when attempted. They tried many tactics to find out more before Wilbur had told them both off. He wonders if they had found their third in that life.

There had always been gaps in his memory, especially when it came to his other lives. Lulls where the mundane had become just a bit too mundane, moments where he just shut his brain off and went by instinct. Things were easier when you didn’t have past lives to think about. When he didn’t have to consider if he had already learnt a lesson and was doomed to repeat it. When you weren’t around to give him glares and words of encouragement and cause disruption in his life. Were Tommy and Wilbur’s lives more difficult with you here too? With someone to tell them what to do and to patch up their wounds and give fleeting touches that were so soft it was like touching a petal? He hopes not.

A sound of distress comes from the direction you and Tommy had gone in and he turns to look. You’re standing there, facing away from him, reaching out towards empty space to someone who wasn’t there. You must’ve been the one to make the noise.

You turn around and his frown deepens. You look tired and more than a little frustrated. It was amazing how much of a difference you stood now compared to the person that clung to him throughout the nether when he had first met you. Your presence was easy. You didn’t ramble like he would disappear anymore. You didn’t look to him for validation with every move. You didn’t act out of the desperation isolation had instilled in you. You had settled like the missing puzzle piece they didn’t even know was missing. Did you ever visit the library that you had once called your first home?

He watches you finally approach him, sitting and leaning against his side as if you weren’t upset. You move to intertwine your arm with his, hand slipping into his own. He didn’t stop you. “Wilbur, he’s-”

“Crazy? Yeah, I know. He wants me to set off withers.” You sat straight up. Shock painted your face a hue that didn’t suit you. Or perhaps it was fear. He didn’t like it.

“Withers?” He nods. Your head spins back to the direction of your bedroom. “Does Tommy know?”

“Tommy knows. I went along with it.” Techno feels you scoot away, releasing your hold on him and he already misses the feeling. “It’s not like we’re tryin’ to salvage the place, [y/n].”

“I don’t want more innocent people to lose another life, Tech.” You look at him once more. “Do Tommy and Wilbur know that you’re hoping to leave nothing behind? Because they both talk about reestablishing L’manburg when given the chance.”

“I keep tellin’ them the truth, but it seems like they’re not gonna listen.” He watches your face fall into a look that he hopes meant acceptance. Your eyes moved to the ground between you both and you just nodded. You didn’t know where you would sit in the aftermath of this all.

Techno felt your hand slip back into his as you take your place back against his side. Pink hair was soft against your cheek as you rested it against his shoulder.

“One step at a time. Let’s worry about getting rid of Schlatt first, okay?” He just nods back, resting his head on top of yours. You squeeze his hand in response. You felt safe again, especially with him next to you “Now-

Tell me about this pit.”

[readyplayerhobi]

Jung Hoseok and the Magic to Happiness | 03

; Hufflepuff Teacher!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, future angst, future smut

; Word Count: 7.9k

; Synopsis: An unexpected issue with your Ministry of Magic job leads to you taking the role of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. It’s here that you meet your best friend’s younger brother for the first time in years, the Hufflepuff Head of House, Jung Hoseok. While you contend with seeing him once again, Hoseok tries to show you that he’s very much a man and no longer the gangly teenager you once knew.

; A/N: I hope this is okay...I’m still trying to get back into my groove of writing so I apologise if anything isn’t all that great!  Please send me asks with  what you think or leave feedback on a reblog!

Last Chapter ; Next Chapter

-

“Professor! Professor Y/L/N! Owo has turned herself into a mouse!” Turning around from where you’d been helping Alicia Morningstar with her efforts to turn a teapot into a tortoise. It was a simple enough spell and something all Third Years had to learn to master, but it was proving to be a little bit of an issue for some students.

The process of turning inanimate into animate was a little tougher than the transfiguration spells they’d learnt in previous years so you were being very generous with your time in class. What it also meant was that students would make mistakes frequently, such that done by poor Grace Owosekun, also known as Owo to her friends.

Instead of the young Ravenclaw witch, there was an adorably cute mouse sitting on her table. A high pitched squeak emerged from her as you moved closer and you had to stifle your laughter. Working with the students was exceptionally rewarding, but sometimes you did get flashbacks to your previous job. 

Thankfully, it took no effort at all for you to help poor Grace back into her human self. It was a slightly odd process to watch as it wasn’t as elegant as that of an animagus, but you were just thankful that you soon had one healthy student in her place once more.

“Are you okay?” You ask, crouching down and resting a hand on the table that she shared with her best friend, Sheyi Adeyemi. The Gryffindor was watching her with concern on her face, her brow creased as she reached out to rub Grace’s shoulder.

“I’m okay, Professor,” Grace smiles, though she seems a little off balance. “I’m sorry, I did the spell wrong. I don’t even know how I managed it.” She looks a little embarrassed, her gaze dropping from you to the wand she’d dropped on the table. 

Giving her an encouraging smile, you shake your head and try to be as reassuring as you can. “Don’t worry about it. We all make mistakes and it’s better to make mistakes here in the classroom where they can be rectified quickly and efficiently. Hopefully, you can learn from that and get it right next time; you’re an excellent witch and I believe you can do it. Try again!”

Remaining crouched next to her, Grace gives you an uncertain glance before chewing on her lip. Sheyi rubs her shoulder and gives her a thumbs-up of encouragement, causing you to give her an appreciative look of your own.

Picking up her wand, the Ravenclaw takes a deep breath to steady her nerves before trying once more. There’s a moment where nothing happens and you can practically feel her disappointment, but then the teapot quivers. It’s a subtle movement but soon evolves into a stronger tremble, the spout beginning to transform.

After around thirty-seconds, a small tortoise is laying on the desk. Sheyi claps in excitement, congratulating her friend repeatedly and you stand with a fond smile of your own. Picking up the tortoise gently, you turn it over in your hands to check for any accidental deformities. There’s none there though and you place it carefully back onto the desk.

“Well done, Grace. You did a great job. It’s important to maintain a good level of confidence when working in transfiguration. Sometimes the intent is more important than anything else.” Nodding at her, you moved back towards the front of your classroom. 

Standing at the front, you clapped your hands to get the attention of all your young students. It took a few moments for everyone to quiet down but you finally succeeded. Smiling at them all, you proceed to ask who hadn’t managed to fulfil the task you’d set out at the beginning of class. A few of them hold their hands up, sadness written all over their face and you resolve to carry on with this spell for the next lesson.

No one would move on until everyone was caught up. A glance at the clock signified that it was almost time for class to end, so you began to wrap everything up. Walking around the desks, you made quick work of turning all the tortoises back to teacups and a silent spell had them all dancing through the air to their place in the open storage cupboard. 

“Okay, everyone. We had a good class today, you all did well. If you didn’t manage to get the spell to work, don’t worry about it too much. We’re going to continue with this transfiguration next time until everyone’s done it at least five times, okay? If you have any issues with it, you’re free to come to see me out of class time for extra tutoring if needed. There’s no homework for today so make sure to use that time to catch up on anything you’ve been given from your other professors. Class dismissed.” There was a palpable ripple of excitement that ran through the students at being able to go to lunch earlier than usual.

While they all rushed out of the door, a cacophony of loud voices and rippling robes, you tidied up your desk to prepare for the class that would begin after lunch. That was Sixth Years, which thankfully meant that they were very knowledgeable about magic and were a little easier to teach than the younger students.

The more complex spells compounded that, but you found the students to be both quick and adept at learning.

Finishing up, you took a deep breath before running your hands down the front of your robes to get rid of any unfortunate creases. As you do so, your stomach rumbles and that familiar ache of hunger causes a pang to run through you. Wincing slightly, you glanced at your desk and pondered whether to just keep working.

Ideally, you could use some more time to prep for the next lesson but you’d missed breakfast this morning. Chaeyoung had introduced you to some muggle form of exercise called ‘pilates’ last night and this morning you’d had muscles aching that you didn't even know existed. An extra half an hour in bed had been called for, which meant the necessary sacrifice of breakfast.

But you knew that you couldn’t miss lunch as well. The pure hunger you’d feel by the time dinner came around would be highly unpleasant. Sighing deeply, you decide that you could forego the planning to get some food. 

Heading towards the door, you open it and are surprised to see Hoseok standing there. He’s about to knock, which means his hand is dangerously close to your chest. For a moment, the two of you stare at said hand with wide eyes. A fleeting thought in the back of your mind wonders what it’d feel like on you, his fingers long and almost dainty in their beauty.

It disappears quickly when Hoseok retracts it immediately, fumbling as he tries to stuff it into his robes. Glancing to his face, you have to work to hide the smile as you note the rose tint to his high cheekbones. All the while, he’s muttering apologies to you and taking a large step back to give you space.

“Hobi! What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in the Great Hall already?” There’s a few seconds pause where Hoseok simply stares at you, his expression so sweet and innocent that you’re suddenly reminded of teenage Hoseok once more. It makes you grin brightly, letting out a gentle chuckle as you gesture for him to move backwards.

Exiting your classroom, you begin to walk alongside him through the extravagant halls that make up Hogwarts. Multiple paintings with long gone witches and wizards watch you both walk past, a few slipping from frame to frame to keep pace. Hoseok clears his throat a little awkwardly, causing you to frown at him as you take in his stiff posture and the way he’s balling his hands behind his back.

“You didn’t come to breakfast so...I wanted to make sure that you ate lunch at least. If you didn’t turn up or agree to come, then I was going to go get something and bring it back for you,” Pausing momentarily, he studiously keeps his face away from your curious look. “You shouldn’t forgo meals, it’s not healthy.”

Raising a brow, you muse to yourself how sweet he was being. Jisoo would be proud of his brotherly instincts remaining strong and how determined he was to make sure you were okay. 

“Yes, Professor Jung. I’ll make sure not to miss any meals in the future,” You completely miss the way he flinches at your use of his formal title. “I only missed breakfast because Chaeyoung decided to engage in some mild form of torture with some muggle exercise last night. I’m not entirely sure if I want to continue it on, though I am almost relishing the ache in my muscles now. Is that wrong?” 

Humming lightly, you tap your lips as the two of you reach the doors of the Great Hall. Entering quickly, you explain the pilates exercise that Chaeyoung was a fan of to him as the two of you walked towards the head table. A few professors were already seated, eating and chatting with their neighbour, while the House tables were around three-quarters full.

Not all the students would eat lunch at this time as some of the older students had free periods that allowed them to eat a little later. On top of that, there were lunchtime clubs that focused on varying hobbies and interests that would serve their lunches to those participating.

Chaeyoung was one of those professors who wasn’t present today but you knew that she was supervising a field trip visit to the Ministry with some Fourth Year students. Instead, Seokjin sat in her place and gave you an expectant look as you sat down. As usual, Hoseok sat next to you and began to pick the food he wanted while you took your plate.

“Morning, Seokjin. Or afternoon rather. How are you today? Classes going well?” Reaching past Hoseok, you took a delicious looking cheese and bean toastie from a stack, the bread crispy and toasted to perfection while a long string of melted cheese stretches enticingly. It wasn’t really what you’d consider a lunch food, more breakfast food in your opinion.

Given that you hadn’t eaten breakfast though, you felt that you were allowed to indulge. Alongside the toastie, now cooling on your plate so it didn’t burn your mouth, you asked Hoseok to pass you some of the bacon that was teasing your nose. He did so without complaint; giving you a larger than normal pile until you were raising your brow at him.

“You need to make up for breakfast.” Was all he said before he began to tuck into his lunch of creamy leek and potato soup with freshly made bread. The smell of it dances over to you slowly and you peer a little closer, noting the specks of black pepper dotting the surface alongside a few more spices and herbs that you couldn’t figure out immediately.

To your surprise, Hoseok tears off a piece of bread and dips it into the soup before holding it up to your mouth. Eyes widening, you give him a silent question to which he responds by just lifting it once with a smile. The taste of the soup complements the bread perfectly and you hum in delight, doing a little wriggle in your seat as you chew it happily.

“That’s good! I might have some too.” You murmur, reaching out to scoop some soup into a small bowl as well.

“Be careful you don’t make yourself sick or end up too full. Miyeon has asked me to invite you to dinner tonight. It’s nothing fancy, just an Irish stew with homemade dumplings. Though I like to spice it up sometimes to make things interesting,” Seokjin leans closer as he winks, nudging you with his elbow as he lets out that distinctive laugh. “I want to finally introduce you to my family!”

Clapping your hands in excitement, you try to respond to him only he’d asked at the exact moment that you’d bitten into your toastie. Which means you have molten hot cheese and beans filling your mouth, causing you to do a strange dance as you waved at your mouth in an attempt to try and cool it down.

Snorting loudly, Seokjin helps and begins to waft his hands before you as well. After a few moments of suffering a burnt mouth, you finally swallowed it and gave him an appreciative smile.

“Wow, that was hot. Sorry, I think I just spat on you or something,” Reaching out, you wiped awkwardly at the spit that had hit his robes. “But yes, I’d love to come for dinner. Thank you for inviting me, I appreciate it. You’ve talked so much about Miyeon that I feel like I already know her pretty well but I can’t wait to meet her.”

He gives you a huge smile that makes his eyes light up, the happiness in them palpable and it makes excitement buzz through your veins. Hogwarts was finally beginning to feel more like home for you and you were glad to be making friends with your fellow professors.

“Fantastic. If you meet me outside the entrance hall around an hour after your last class then I can apparate you to my house. It’s easier if I do that for you as you’ve never been there and I have some work to catch up on after class. Is that okay?” Seokjin tilts his head, taking a long drink of fresh pumpkin juice with a questioning look in his eyes.

“Sounds like a plan.”

-

Glancing at the clock that was situated at the back of the classroom, you sigh deeply before returning your gaze to the two stacks of essays before you. Each sheet of parchment contained the musings of your Second Year students on the topic that you’d assigned to them the week before. 

It had all been one big stack just under an hour ago when you’d dropped it onto the top of your desk once the last student had left your classroom. Now there were two; one which consisted of those you had carefully marked and the other those waiting for your attention. Thankfully, the completed stack was much larger than the other and you knew that you’d be able to finish it off before you went to bed tonight.

For now, though, you placed your quill down and linked your fingers together before stretching with a groan. A few vertebrae popped in your spine, the sensation causing you to wince though there was no pain. Getting old sucked and it felt like every day you woke up with some part of your body aching that hadn’t before.

Sighing deeply, you slumped into your seat and rubbed at your eyes tiredly. In an ideal world, you’d take yourself off to bed for a good nap before waking up for dinner. Not something you indulged in often but you were certainly feeling the repercussions of the pilates from last night.

You had plans though so you couldn’t go curl up into your bed. Yawning loudly, you stood and carefully put the completed essays away into your cabinet. The unmarked ones remained on the desk, waiting for you to come back to them tonight.

Heading into your quarters, you tugged off the robes that signified you as a teacher before pulling on some clothing that was more suitable for a casual dinner. A pair of dark denim jeans, a much-loved favourite clothing item from a muggle store you liked to browse back in London, and a warm knit sweater with black and white stripes made up your outfit.

Slipping your feet into some dark brown boots, you complimented the whole look with a knee-length black peacoat. Jisoo had recently gotten into crocheting and she’d send you a matching hat and scarf that she’d made, the blue, purple and silver colours blending beautifully. You thought Seokjin might appreciate it, particularly how much they reminded you of space. It was his speciality after all.

Pursing your lips, you wondered whether you should take a gift or not. You’d always thought it polite to take something when someone had invited you to eat at their house. Seokjin and Miyeon were going to be spending their free time to make you something to eat, it made sense for you to reciprocate their effort however you could.

Opening the cabinet next to your bed, you eyed the bottles contemplatively. You could take some wine, but what would suit stew best? Was red good? 

Shrugging, you took the bottle of red Bordeaux that Jisoo had forced you to bring when you’d first moved here. It wasn’t your favourite but you knew that Jisoo was a big fan of it. Both she and her brother were wine connoisseurs it would seem, given how often you’d seen Hoseok enjoying a flute of wine at dinner.

Nodding your head, you lifted it and quickly left your quarters, heading through the empty classroom and locking the door behind you. You’d never really understood the point of locking anything at Hogwarts as all students learnt the alohomora spell anyway. It was just asking for everything to be opened.

You told yourself it was the thought that counts as you hurried along, your boots tapping against the floor in a pleasant noise that made you smile. As much as you loved Hogwarts, loved being back here and living here full time, you did still miss the freedom of being outside the castle walls. Sometimes it could feel a little stifling to live where you worked.

Seokjin stood outside the entrance hall, his robes still in place while he pushed his hands deep into his pockets. His breath came out in small puffs, visible in the cold air and you instantly got an image of those infamous dragons that breathed fire. Surely every child liked to pretend they were a dragon, witch or muggle, right?

“Hi,” You let him know you’re here, giving him a bright smile when he looks at you with wide eyes. “Sorry, I’m a little late. Got caught up marking. I swear, no one told me that teaching was going to extend into my free time.”

He laughs, letting out a snort in pure amusement as he gestures for you to follow him down the path. You couldn’t apparate inside the boundaries of Hogwarts, so the two of you needed to walk a little further away.

“Just wait until it’s exam time. You’ll regret ever becoming a teacher. But then you get to see them when they get their results and it’s rewarding. So you forget that you want to die sometimes and start it all again next year! Trust me, you’ll experience the same pattern every time. Thankfully though, I have Miyeon who is always willing to lend me a shoulder to cry on.” Gesturing wildly with his hand, he lets out a dramatic sigh before twirling said hand to rest on his forehead.

Now you’re the one snorting with laughter, feeling the stress of your working day leaving your body slowly. It felt good to relax with someone outside of Hogwarts, filling the hole of not being able to see Jisoo as often pretty well. Even though the two of you talked as often as possible, using the magic mirror that you’d bought years ago.

It functioned much like a muggle mobile phone or those fancy webcams that they had, allowing you both to see each other through the mirror screen and talk to each other. They’d improved a lot in quality over the years; the wizarding world trying to catch up to the increasing globalisation that the muggle world used. 

The ridiculously fast speed with which muggles seemed to innovate had proven a constant source of fascination amongst the wizarding world. Alongside that though, was the worry that your community was going to be exposed quicker than ever given how slow it was to adapt to those changes. So there were plenty of entrepreneurs out there who were working hard to convert many muggle inventions into magic friendly inventions.

“Don’t tell me that. You need to ease me into this crap, not just tell me of the chaos that’s awaiting me.” Now it’s your turn to be dramatic, letting out a deep groan and stamping your feet. It has the desired effect of making Seokjin smile.

“You just complained to me that no one warned you...so…” Raising a brow, he looked at you with a smirk as you let out a sigh, shoulders deflating.

“True.”

Reaching the border, Seokjin turned to you and held out his arm like a Victorian gentleman. As he did so, he did a half-bow towards you with mischief in his eyes. You were positive that Miyeon must be a great woman to have caught this handsome and funny man.

“Shall we depart?” Nodding, you looped your arm through his and waited for the familiar sense of apparition. It wasn’t something that you particularly enjoyed but you’d done it so many times that you were used to it.

When it finished, you were no longer standing outside the gates of Hogwarts but a small house bordered with a delicate white, wooden fence. A look around shows a few more houses like Seokjin’s, all with gardens that probably were beautiful when they bloomed with full flowers in spring and summer. 

His home looked cosy; the frames painted a cheerful yellow that should look strange but seemed to suit the bright orange door. It should look gaudy and awful, yet it felt like a home filled with love and laughter. Smiling at it, you noted the overflowing grass of the lawn that surrounded both sides of the gravel path that led to the door.

“It’s a wildflower lawn. In the warmer months, it has lots of different flowers and we always end up with so many different insects and animals foraging.” He says as you wave your hand through the tall stalks. It makes you wish that you could see it then, so you just resolved to weasel an invite during those months too.

“This house is so...cheerful. I love it!” You coo, reaching out to run your fingers along the wooden door. The paint feels smooth and hard beneath your fingertips and what looks like an antique knocker gives you a curious look. Peering closer at it, you note it’s in the shape of a heart with big eyes, causing you to look at Seokjin with a raised brow.

“Jihyo picked it. You don’t say no to her big eyes.” He said simply, referencing his oldest daughter. Pursing your lips, you nodded with a solemn look. Even though you didn’t have young kids, you knew that it was better to just give in sometimes.

Opening the door, Seokjin lets you enter first while he calls out to his wife and kids. The two of you take off your coats and shoes while he puts away your scarf and hat carefully. As you do so, there’s a loud ruckus from upstairs and you look up in time to see two small bodies run down the hallway.

The little girl you guess is Jihyo, her black hair separated into cute little pigtails while her cute face is split into an adorable smile of pure joy at seeing her dad. As she jumps into Seokjin’s open arms, chattering away loudly and lifting her stuffed dragon toy, you note the slightly more unstable toddler waddling to you.

She’s a lot smaller than her big sister and you recall Seokjin saying that she’d only started walking half a year ago or something. Crouching down, you smile at her in what you hope is a friendly way, reaching out and taking her tiny hands. She grasps them tightly, coming to a wobbly stop before you and looking at you with eyes so reminiscent of her dad’s.

“Hi, you must be Sooah,” Gently shaking her hands up and down, you can’t help but laugh at her shriek of delight. “You’re so pretty! Your daddy says you’re very smart too.” 

Looking up at Seokjin, you note him watching you both with a soft smile on his face. His kids are a constant source of joy and pride for him, something you’d come to know after the months of getting to know him. From the looks of how excited his daughters were to see him, you knew the feelings were probably reciprocated as well.

“Y/N, hi! It’s so nice to meet you.” Standing, you watch as a beautiful woman with long, dark hair picks up Sooah in a smooth motion. With practised ease, she shifted the toddler into a comfortable position before leaning up to accept Seokjin’s quick kiss. 

The two of them together looked like the perfect family, causing you to bite your teeth as a warm feeling bloomed in your chest. That would hopefully be you and whoever you fell in love with one day. If you could have half the happiness Seokjin had, you’d be a happy girl.

“Miyeon, Seokjin’s told me so much about you. Thank you for inviting me tonight, I’ve been looking forward to it since lunch,” You gush, grabbing the bag that you’d brought with you and holding it out to her. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to bring anything but I felt rude not so, I’ve brought some wine that I think would go well?” 

Letting Sooah down, she carefully watches as the little girl toddled back into what you presume is the living room. Once sure she’s okay, she pulls the bottle out of the bag and examines the label closely. 

“Ooh, this will work wonderfully. Thank you, you didn’t have to do this though. We’re just glad for your company. Honestly! I’ve been bugging Seokjin for weeks now to invite you. Meeting his colleagues is always fun and I’m sure that I drove him up the wall wanting to meet you. He’s talked so favourably about you.” With that, she looks at her husband and you laugh at how red his ears have gotten.

It hasn’t gone unnoticed by Jihyo, you place her small hands on his cheeks and squeezes while giggling. She looks adorable doing it, causing you to press your hands to your chest as you coo at her. As if she knows you think she’s the sweetest thing that you’ve ever seen, Jihyo gives you a smile that’s full of mischief. 

Seokjin’s daughter.

“Okay, can daddy please sit down? Let’s go play with Sooah!” He distracts his daughter quickly, shuffling through to the living room and disappearing through the door. Standing in the hallway with Miyeon, you give her an awkward look and feel thankful when she invites you towards the kitchen.

“Come, come. He always likes to play with the girls for a little bit when he gets home. Stress relief for him and also time for them to be with their dad without my interference. Let’s go open this bottle and have a chat. The stew’s been cooking for a few hours now and Seokjin will make the dumplings in an hour or so. It won’t be too long, I promise!” Her voice is bubbly and immediately puts you at ease.

“That’s sweet. A nice way for him to relax. I wish I could do that. I just usually end up falling asleep once I’m back in my quarters after dinner. Not a huge amount to do once I’ve done my work but I’ve certainly done a lot of reading lately. I’ve got lots of books if you want to borrow some.” That gets a laugh from Miyeon as she pulls out two glasses from a cupboard above the counter.

Their kitchen is just as warm and cosy as the outside of their house. It’s not very big, but you think it’s perfectly sized for everything they would need. The oven hums quietly as it cooks the stew, the glass front letting you see the large pot situated inside.

“Let me know what you’ve got and I’ll think. I have two whole bookcases in the living room that you can look through if you’d like. Getting to read a chapter each night before bed is something I indulge in now that Sooah is old enough to sleep in her bed.” Carefully pouring out wine into the glasses, she gestures for you to sit at the table and the two of you begin to chat away.

You’re pleased to discover that Miyeon is just as nice and friendly as she’d initially seemed and you both discover that you have a lot of interests that cross. It’s probably half an hour later when you’re both interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door. Miyeon doesn’t seem to be surprised at it, instead getting a bright smile on her face as she stands and moves back out to the hallway.

Frowning slightly, you follow her and pause when you hear a familiar voice respond to Seokjin. Eyes widening, you turn the corner and take in the appearance of Hoseok. He’s unwrapping the familiar Hufflepuff scarf from around his neck and is greeting Miyeon with that beautiful smile and a big hug.

“Mimi! Looking pretty as ever,” He compliments, winking at her before chuckling when Seokjin pushes him. “And where are my two favourite little girls?” 

Almost immediately, Jihyo comes running out and almost throws herself against Hoseok’s legs. Her arms wrap around them tightly and you can’t stop the smile that forms when you spot Sooah wobbling towards him as well. He makes soft sounds of support to her, holding his hand out to encourage her forwards before scooping her up into his arms.

“Uncle Seok!” Jihyo says, her voice high pitched as she tugs at his trousers insistently. “Come play dolls!” 

“Not right now, sweetheart. I will in a few minutes, okay?” He runs his hand over her head and you’re struck by the sheer familiarity of him with Seokjin’s family. You knew that they all knew each other; after so many years at Hogwarts, it would be impossible for them not to be friends. But this was a whole other level of closeness.

Upon seeing the confusion in your face, Seokjin winces and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry, I forgot to mention. I felt bad about inviting you when Hoseok was right there like I was leaving him out or something. So I invited him as well. He’s a close friend of our family overall so I thought it would be nice to blend all our friendships!”

Hoseok looks up and spots you, giving you that warm and friendly smile that makes your stomach bubble. It disappears almost instantly though as a small crease etches itself into his forehead, his gaze moving from you to Seokjin. You can almost feel the uncertainty flowing from him, causing you to give him a little wave to ease his nerves.

“Hey, you should have dropped by before we left. We could have all travelled together.” Moving closer to the group, you try to make sure that Hoseok knows you’re not annoyed or anything by his presence. And you’re not. If anything, you’re quite pleased to see him. It makes you feel a little less nervous about just being on your own with Seokjin and Miyeon, even if they’re lovely.

There’s no getting around how awkward it feels to be the third wheel in a situation.

For a moment, he simply eyes you to try and see if you’re lying. Sooah is trying to distract his attention away and you have to try hard not to coo at how good he looks with kids. You should’ve known he would though; he was great with his students and had spoken previously of his love of working with younger children as well.

“Honestly. I think someone wants your attention right now though,” Gesturing to the little girl in his arms, you smirk slightly. “I think the guys should go back to entertaining the kids. Miyeon, would you like me to help make the dumplings instead of Seokjin making them?” Hoseok’s brow rose slightly but he didn’t question it, nor did Seokjin protest.

Miyeon nodded in response, letting her hand run through Sooah’s soft hair affectionately before following you back to the kitchen. You’ve never been the best cook in the world but you knew enough to not embarrass yourself as the two of you created the savoury dumplings.

Finishing up, Miyeon carefully took the pot of stew out of the oven and placed it on the side. The aroma that left it once she took the lid away made your stomach rumble in hunger and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment. That was probably the best thing you’d smelled in a long time and you couldn’t wait for a home-cooked meal.

Not that the food at Hogwarts wasn’t home-cooked, but there was something a little more special about having a meal made by family or friends. Carefully, you placed the dumplings into the stew, letting them sit along the top to cook until dinner was ready. As soon as the pot was back in the oven, you both sat back at the table and continued on your conversation. 

It’s only ten minutes or so before Miyeon begins to prepare dinner for the girls. A glance at the clock lets you know that it’s already after six in the evening and they wanted to get the kids in bed before everyone had their dinner. Normally, they would all eat dinner together but tonight was more for the adults.

Helping her, you set the table following her instructions while she plates up some stew for the girls to eat and lets it cool a little. A cup of water for each gets placed on the table and soon enough, the kitchen is filled with shrieks and the sound of children eating loudly. Both girls enjoy their meals and eat them all with no complaints, causing you to compliment Miyeon on her good parenting.

As they eat, Miyeon pushes you to go talk to Seokjin and Hoseok who are both chatting away in the living room. The fire in the hearth is blazing away happily, warming the room and giving it that aroma that only a real fire could give. At your arrival, they both greeted you and all three of you began to discuss your work. It was inevitable that it happened and you’d rather do it now before boring Miyeon with it over dinner.

Maybe only half an hour passes before Seokjin disappears to help put his daughters to bed. It leaves Hoseok and you alone in the living room, the wine already making you feel a little looser and calmer. The sofa was incredibly comfortable and you had to blink a few times, yawning as you felt unbelievably relaxed.

“Careful or you’ll miss dinner.” Hoseok teases you, his voice deep and pleasing. Smiling, you shuffle a little further up the cushion before stretching with a groan. Looking back over at him, your brow rises as you take in his own slumped figure.

“Careful, or you’ll miss dinner.” You parrot back to him, grinning as he rolls his eyes playfully. It’s surprising to you how comfortable you feel in his presence now when he’d been almost a stranger only a few months ago. Even Jisoo was surprised by how well the two of you were getting on now, commenting that Hoseok was mentioning you far more in conversation than she’d expected.

And vice versa for you.

“I’m so hungry,” He whines, laying his hands on his stomach and rubbing at it with a petulant pout. “It smells so good.”

“Well, it’s almost done. So you won’t need to wait much longer. I’m sure your poor, starving stomach will be able to cope.” Giving him an exaggerated look, you reach forward to poke at his stomach playfully and enjoy the quiet giggle he gives. He’s ticklish, given how he tries to wriggle away from your touch.

You’d investigate that further but you didn’t want him making too much and ruining the Kim’s attempts at getting their daughters to sleep. So you just filed that information away for further use, positive you’d get to use it at some point.

“You’re going to be at breakfast tomorrow, right?” His question is quiet, his eyes focused on the dancing flames of the fire that crackled and popped occasionally. Glancing to him out of the corner of your eye, you smirk.

“Why? Going to miss me if I’m not there?” 

“I just don’t want you missing meals. Breakfast is the most important mea-” Cutting him off before he can finish, you hold up a hand and laugh loudly. His eyes narrow at the sound and his pretty lips threaten to pout once more.

“I’ve heard that more than enough in my life. Don’t worry, I’ll be there. As you can see, there’s no pilates tonight. If I miss breakfast then it’s probably because I’ll be too lethargic from dinner tonight. Feel free to bang on my door if I’m not there to wake me up but I will probably be very grumpy.” That gets a reluctant smile from him, the dimples in his cheeks more prominent.

“Noted. On another note, are you going home for Christmas or staying?” Staring at him, you chew on your lip as you consider his question. Your plans were near enough set in stone but you always had the option to change them at the last minute.

“I’ll probably be staying. I mean, I might go back for a day or so but I don’t have anywhere to live down there and I don’t want to deal with the hassle of my parents,” You’d never really gotten along with your parents and tried to avoid them if you could. “Might visit Jisoo a few times but for the most part, I’ll be staying at Hogwarts. Are you staying?”

He nodded his head slowly, linking his fingers together across his belly and sighing. 

“Yep. I can’t leave because we still have students who stay during the holidays and as the Head of Hufflepuff then I need to be there for anyone who needs me. It’s usually pretty quiet though so it’s nothing to worry about.” You smile at the warmth in his voice and the concern for his students.

He truly was a great professor and an even better Head of House.

“Maybe you could come with me to visit Jisoo or something. I’d only be going for a few hours and I’m sure she’d love to see you again.” There’s an odd look on Hoseok’s face as he stares at you, causing you to frown in question at him. But he’s saved from answering by the arrival of Seokjin and Miyeon once more.

“Come on, my second children! Delicious dinner awaits!” Seokjin says loudly, gesturing wildly with his arms and causing Miyeon to scowl before gently slapping his stomach. He almost instantly makes an exaggerated sound and you’re reminded of Hoseok only minutes earlier.

“Finallyyyyy.” Hoseok exhales, standing upright and hurrying into the kitchen. You watch him with wide eyes and look at the couple in the doorway with raised brows, causing Miyeon to snort with amusement.

“Hoseok loves Seokjin’s stew. Another reason he got invited tonight. Anyway, come on. You’re about to experience the best stew you’ve ever had in your life.” Taking your arm, she pulls you towards the kitchen as Seokjin follows behind you, a proud look on his face.

“I’m glad that my brilliance is appreciated in this house. The house-elves at Hogwarts should learn my recipe and let everyone be blessed by the wonders of my food.” The sound that leaves you is very strange, almost like a snort, a cough and a laugh all at once. It’s exacerbated by Hoseok’s sharp, and very dry, response.

“It’s not that good, Seokjin. Calm down.”

“Sacrilege.”

-

Seokjin and his wife watched as the two Hogwarts professors walked down the gravel path to the gate. They were talking quietly to each other, their words too low to hear and their dark robes made them almost blend into the night. It was only from the soft lighting from inside the cottage, giving a warm glow to the lawn of wildflowers Miyeon carefully cared for, that allowed them to see the outline of the witch and wizard.

Once they had passed through the gate, closing it politely behind themselves as they went, there was a moment where they simply gestured goodbye. Seokjin grinned broadly and waved back, watching as their bodies disappeared as they apparated back to Hogwarts. 

“He is so in love with her,” Miyeon muses, her lips curved up into that pretty smile that had enraptured Seokjin so long ago. “And she has no idea, does she?”

Shaking his head in response, he gently encourages her back inside before closing the door. It was far too cold outside and he didn’t want the warmth of their home seeping out unnecessarily. A creak from upstairs makes him pause, eyeing the stairwell with narrowed eyes for a few moments before deciding it was nothing.

The house was old and prone to making odd noises at all times of the day, but he’d also realised that kids liked to do the exact opposite of what their parents wanted. Which meant he wasn’t entirely sure if Jihyo had woken up and was quietly playing to herself.

Though she was also four-years-old and if he’d learnt anything about his beloved daughter; it was that she was just as loud as he was. Seokjin had never been as proud. He was glad that she was starting to entertain herself and no longer required their attention all the time.

Following his wife into the living room, he smiled fondly as she flopped onto the sofa. Miyeon took the pink, orange and white hand-crocheted blanket that was draped alongside the back and wrapped it around herself, opening her arms to encompass him as well when he finally sat.

“She hasn’t got the foggiest. Which makes it even funnier to watch him flirt with her because she just doesn’t realise. I think everyone has realised at work as we all try to engineer them being together or around each other for things. Still isn’t clicking for her, bless.” Seokjin snorts in amusement, kissing Miyeon’s hair affectionately when she pats his stomach.

While Hoseok had come for the food, he wasn’t entirely sure if the younger man hadn’t come mainly because you’d be there. His feelings were very obvious to anyone with eyes and a brain, which was obviously why he’d invited you to the dinner tonight so loudly. An opportunity for Hoseok to meet with you in a social situation outside of Hogwarts.

And from the way you’d both been laughing and talking animatedly all evening, it had worked very well. It was clear the two of you had known each other for a very long time given the number of inside jokes that had been thrown around casually alongside old memories that you shared. The two of you seemed to be very natural together and Seokjin couldn’t help but hope something a little more romantic might happen.

“Don’t be mean! Hoseok’s sweet and I feel so sorry for him. Imagine fancying someone for years in school when you’re all gawky and...teenage, only to meet them again when you’re both older and more attractive. I hope she realises soon, they have such good chemistry together.” Miyeon muses quietly, resting her head on his shoulder and sighing tiredly.

“They do, which is why it’s fun to tease them. He gets flustered because he knows that I know and she just doesn’t pay attention.” That might sound a little mean but Seokjin was trying to help them. Sometimes people just needed a little push and he was more than happy to do that.

“I’m not surprised, though. I mean, think about it from her point of view. He’s her best friend’s little brother, not exactly someone you think about romantically. Especially in school of all places, she probably viewed him either like a little brother or just a pure nuisance. Imagine how confused she feels now, seeing him as this attractive man who is very dateable. I wouldn’t know what to do with that situation either.” Humming, Seokjin considers his wife’s thoughts carefully before nodding.

“I can see that. Must be a little awkward. Maybe she’s not sure what to do...or if she even has permission. She’s got her best friend to think about too.” The reaction he gets is a sleepy moan of acknowledgement, causing him to grin before carefully moving his arm to wrap around her shoulders.

“I’d hope his sister would want her brother and best friend to be happy, even if they find that with each other. But who knows. Either way...he’s been on a mission to change her mind.” He let himself recall all the little ‘dates’ that Hoseok had taken Y/N on, without the actual title of a date. The unicorn date, the Great Lake date where he’d taught her about the creatures that lived beneath in, the multiple Hogsmeade dates that she still thought were just two friends going out. 

Of course, Hoseok hadn’t pointed out the difference to her. The Hufflepuff Head was content to let her think it was all friendly, and he’d always made it clear that others could come along too but it was an unsaid rule amongst the faculty that no one would say yes.

Seokjin hoped, for his friend’s sake, that she would eventually realise. It was just a good thing that Hoseok embodied the traits of Hufflepuff; limitless patience, unending determination and incredibly loyal. That thought makes him laugh gently, causing Miyeon to shift and look at him lazily.

“I just realise...we always say that Hufflepuff’s are loyal, right? Well, Hoseok has been loyal to her for years. Even if there was that gap where they didn’t see each other for a few years...as soon as she comes back, his affections are right there once more.” Stroking his wife’s arm soothingly, he kisses her head once more as the romance of the whole situation hits him.

“That’s...that’s so sweet. I think she’ll come around soon. It’s obvious she likes him too. They just need something to push them a little more and make her realise that it’s okay to go for him.” Pursing his lip, Seokjin considers her words for a moment. She was right, which she always was.

Glancing over to the kitchen, the calendar on the wall just visible to him through the doorway, he did some quick maths in his head. The Winter Solstice Ball was fast approaching and if he remembered right, he knew the perfect spell to help things along for his lovesick friend.

[doitwritenow]

Supreme Super family gets sucked up into WandaVision(let's imagine Tony's alive in this or is from the multiverse). Ironstrange think they're married with a high school kid. Tony is a science teacher, strange is town doctor, and peter is a regular kid. No memories of they're real life. Rhody, Pepper, and Aunt May and Morgan could be added to this too if you wanted.

OHHO! Sorry it took me so long to reply to this; I had to finish the show, for one thing, and then my brain started going all sorts of places with the prompt... and well. I have on heck of a ramble coming, so buckle up! 

(Also, spoilers through the series, so watch out!) 

— — —

It starts with a question on Vision’s job application.

That’s all. So simple, so innocuous, so innocent. Vision is casually recording information that he doesn’t yet realize he can’t remember, and he arrives at a line that asks his family history. It’s nothing complex, left on the application only because Wanda’s subconscious had glossed over the question. So does Vision’s, as a result. But he wants this job. They want to fit in, and so they answer the question truthfully.

Vision writes ‘Stark’, unaware. ‘Tony Stark.’

And pop. Just like that. 

On the edge of Westview, there suddenly is and has always been a small, well-kept mechanic’s shop. It’s run by an aging man with a bright mind and a brighter smile. He’s lived here since he came back from the war, but no one knows for how long. And he has no memory—no memory at all—of what came before. 

Of the round scar in the center of his chest. 

He doesn’t need to know. No one needs to know; he’s just a side character, after all. Just the answer to a line on a job application.

Just so that something, anything, about Vision’s life here isn’t a lie. 

-

Yeah, so Tony gets manifested within the Hex—but because he’s one of Wanda’s creations and not someone being mind-controlled, he is able to exist with agency within Westview. He has no reason, however, to believe anything is amiss; he’s been resurrected only to play a character, and his memories and surface-level motivations only extend to the limits of that character.

But Wanda has other regret. Wanda has other anger and understanding and forgiveness and gratefulness, and she knew Tony Stark, once. 

She knew his worst nightmare—and it’s easy to craft a soul from that, really.

(But it’s fine, of course it’s fine. Tony has no reason to pull down the walls of that hidden spirit. He’s content in his role, just like Vision. So it’s fine. 

… Right?) 

-

Agatha stands at the base of a towering barrier with her hands on her hips. One side of her mouth is quirked up into a considering, scheming smile, and her magic probes out around her curiously. This is the source of the power she’d felt; she’s sure of it. The spell work… the instinctual, unconscious spell work is so intense she can almost taste it.

How is it possible? What’s the secret? 

Agatha must know. And besides; this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to her since the seventeenth century. 

She’s about to reach out, about to cross into the heart of the magic, when she hears it. A footstep. Quiet and dark and making no attempt at stealth. 

Agatha grips her magic. “Who’s there?” she demands. 

Someone steps out of the trees. A human, Agatha thinks, though you can never be sure nowadays. He wears a hood of green and his hands are dark where they hang at his sides. 

“Witch,” the figure declares.

Agatha raises an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” says Karl Mordo. “I rather think you can.”

-

Okay, cut to New York. Stephen Strange is exhausted, wrung dry trying to keep the edges of the universe from deteriorating now that the stabilization factors of the Infinity Stones have been destroyed. One task runs into the next, one morning into the night. One future into all the others. 

But Stephen likes the work; it keeps his mind in one place. He’s always alert these days. Always listening. 

So when someone calls out to him from New Jersey, he can hear.

It’s Mordo luring him in, of course, but he doesn’t know that yet. After Dormammu, and certainly after all those futures, Stephen has too much experience for Mordo to hope to get the better of. The old Master is still dedicated to his ‘too many sorcerers’ shebangerang, though, so he’s employed help. Maybe he can kill two birds with one stone. Two world-threateningly powerful magic users with one stone. 

Stephen follows the call, because of course he does. It sounds like a call for help; what else is he supposed to do? The kelpie situation in the Thames can wait. Wong waves him off, tells him to be careful without much hope of Stephen listening, and takes over the Sanctum for the few hours Stephen intends to be gone.

(It’s not for a few hours.)

-

But there’s someone else we should mention before we see what Westview has planned for Stephen. See, a certain spider-kid has just had his identity outed, and his only allies once called themselves Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

Nick Fury and Maria Hill, Peter discovers, are not Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

“You’re aliens?” Peter demands, his hands warding the space in front of him. 

Of course they’re aliens, part of him sighs. Of course. Why wouldn’t one more thing just go crazy in his life? Why let him remember what ‘normal’ even felt like? Why the hell not? 

“Er, yes,” says not-Fury. “My name is Talos. But we do still want to help you.”

Helping Peter doesn’t go according to plan. See, the Skrull try to approach SWORD for Monica Rambaeu’s help regarding the kid who saved their lives, but Monica has disappeared. 

Talos only turns around for two seconds. Really, it’s only a moment. But when he turns back, Peter Parker has disappeared, too.

-

“Woah.” 

Stephen stops, a hand coming up to shield his third eye as he squints into the absolute maelstrom of power swirling in a hexagonal wall in front of him. It doesn’t feel like the Order’s magic—not like something of the Mystic Arts. It’s something far more human and gritty. Stephen’s perception can’t extend through it. He frowns.

He takes a step forward, the Cloak swirling around his ankles, and begins to stitch his mental walls into place. His wards are strong, even unconsciously.

That’s probably what saves him, in all honesty. 

Two strong, human hands plant themselves in the small of Stephen’s back and shove him into the barrier. Stephen opens his mouth to yell, raises his hands to cast a spell— but blue and red are surrounding him now. Devouring him, now. They lick at his mind, slamming against unbreakable walls.

But they are unbreakable too. 

Stephen disappears. 

-

(Mordo used a portal to get behind him and knock him into the Hex, btw.) 

It’s those hasty mental walls that keep Stephen from being completely consumed into the Westview spells. He is not fully mind-controlled, nor is he left half-animated and frozen like most people near Ellis Avenue. But there is one main rule of Wanda Maximoff’s Westview, and that, Stephen can’t escape completely. 

‘No one remembers outside.’

Stephen doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t remember anything at all. 

-

Tony Stark finds the man lying on the side of the road. He’s just finished dropping his kid Peter off at the Westview high school (it hasn’t occurred to him that it’s weird how he never sees the boy’s classmates. Or that Peter never seems to have stories from school. Or that the kid is always waiting in the exact same place that Tony dropped him off at whenever Tony comes to pick him up. Tony has no reason to think too hard; he’s just a side character—right?). 

“Uh, hi?” Tony pauses, the car puffing it’s irritation when he stops it too quickly. He cranks down the window and leans out. 

The man blinks, slowly, at the sky. He sits up hesitantly, like he hasn’t noticed Tony, and rubs his hand across his face. He pulls it away after a moment and frowns at it. Tony wonders why he looks so confused—it’s not like there’s anything wrong with the man’s hand. No scars or anything. 

“Hi, sir,” Tony says again. “Are you alright?”

The man jumps. He looks over at Tony—and there’s something weird about his eyes. Something… really weird. (Color, says a voice in the back of his mind that he hasn’t heard for a very, very long time. That’s color.)

“Who are you?” Tony asks. He parks the car completely now. 

The man looks down at his hands again. “I’m—” he begins. He’s frowning again.

“Come on now,” Tony encourages. “How hard can it be?”

The man tugs at the scarf around his neck—and it must be windier than Tony thought, because the edges of it are swaying as if of their own accord— and swallows. 

“I don’t know,” he says.

-

So of course Tony brings Stephen back with him. He prods at the man until Stephen manages to blurt out ‘Doctor Stephen Strange’ for no reason either of them can remember. But it makes Stephen relax, a little, to have it on his tongue. 

Tony catches Stephen staring at him after that. A lot. When he asks him why, Stephen has no clear answer; just a vague “you remind me of someone.” For Stephen’s part, all he knows is that seeing Tony gives him an indistinct sense of relief. Like he’d been missing someone deeply, and has now found it again. 

Still. He can’t quite put his finger on it. Just like he can’t quite put his finger on why his hands don’t hurt when he tries to write…

-

Vision visits Tony, sometimes, whenever he remembers, or whenever someone in the town mentions the old mechanic. He brings Wanda. They have fun, but Vision always goes home feeling slightly baffled. And Tony always feels like something hurts, deep in the center of his chest. 

Vision likes his adopted younger brother. (And Peter gets along just fine with the twins, too, when they come along, so Wanda doesn’t change anything about it). But when the man with the bright eyes stares at him with just a bit too much calculation on his face, Vision starts to be reminded of… things. Of suspicions. Of Geraldine and how she had no home and no history. And he doesn’t quite look Wanda in the eye that dinner. 

“What do you do?” Wanda asks, her voice a little hard, a little suspicious. Vision tries not to wince. Whatever it is she’s not telling him, this man at his father’s dinner table reminds her of it. 

Tony flips his fork, balancing it like one might a wrench. “Stephen’s a doctor,” he says.  

Wanda’s face flickers. “That’s funny,” she says blankly. “Because no one in this town ever needs one.” 

-

For a while, Tony Stark didn’t see anything amiss here. He was created, was consistent, was emptily and vaguely pleased. But Tony Stark is Tony Stark, whatever character he’s been told to play. Tony Stark wants to help people. 

And this man, this strange doctor with the eyes that would sometimes go blank for long minutes and the tears that would stain sharp cheeks for a reason he claimed not to remember, needs help.

So Tony Stark begins to scratch at Wanda’s walls. 

-

 “What do you mean he’s here?”

“I mean your little plan didn’t work,” Agatha says. She stands on the edge of Westview, speaking through a mirror of magic to the man outside. She’s liking this sorcerer less and less the more she works with him—but he has been rather helpful so far, so she continues to put up with him. 

“Does he remember?”

“No,” Agatha says. “The dad that Wanda made up for Vision has taken him in. It’s kind of adorable, actually.”

“Hm.” Mordo’s mouth twists. “You’ll finish the job?”

Agatha shrugs nonchalantly. “Sure. When I get around to it.”

“You don’t want to wait. Deal with Strange now, before he remembers how to be a threat.”

Agatha laughs. It’s brittle, fully conveying her hostility. “Ha, my good sorcerer, listen. Unless you want to come in here and do the job yourself, you’ll let me handle this my way.”

Agatha’s way involves getting to the bottom of things, of course. And that’s rather convenient… because Vision has begun to try to do the same thing. 

— — — —

Okay that’s all I have for now? The other bits are still solidifying in my mind, and it’s basically all Horrible Angst. I hope this scratches a little of the itch of your ask, though! Feel free, anyone, to add onto this if you’d like! I really enjoyed the show, and I think it has some really awesome AU potential. 

Thanks for the ask!!!

[iliveiloveiwrite]

A Ghost is a Wish // G.W.

Summary: Three years after the events of Potions and Constellations, George Weasley cannot help but wonder of the ghosts that haunt the many rooms of the enchanted castle he now calls home.

A/N: Part two to Potions and Constellations! I have decided to make a mini series out of it, focusing on Professor!George and his many adventures at Hogwarts. Title is a quote from The Haunting of Hill House (I love that show so much). I don't think you necessarily need to read the first part to understand this, but some parts could be confusing.

Warnings: time skip, ghosts, spectres, hauntings, swearing, grief, established relationship, fluff, cute, fred is dead.

Word count: 3.8k

At this point in his life, George Weasley has been teaching three years. It wasn’t meant to be a permanent post, but rather a position filled until someone more qualified was found for the job. That was what McGonagall had led him to believe so many seconds, minutes, hours ago.

Yet, three years later, George was still to be found lecturing day in and day out to scores of young witches and wizards about the benefits and downfalls of potions and their ingredients. He didn’t say it often, but he had found his home within the walls of the dungeon that served as his classroom. He felt nothing but comfort as he meandered through the stone corridors of the school, greeting students by name, always getting a happy response in return.

Three years later, and he finds himself wholly in love with you and ready to dedicate his whole life to the profession of teaching in order to remain close to you. He misses his brother; the grief of losing someone so close to you isn’t something that simply fades over night, but having you close by, willing to share that burden makes it all the easier.

The grief of Fred still weighs him down; it still crawls up his throat and threatens to suffocate him, but he finds ways of managing whether it is planning a new lesson or distracting you from your own school work. However, it cannot be ignored for long and though the burden has been halved, George still finds himself missing and wondering about Fred.

----------

George paces the front of his classroom, his hands moving in circles as he explains the task to his class. A rather light potion for Sixth Years to be brewing but given that it’s Friday afternoon and Potions is the last lesson of the day for these students, George decides to go easy on them.

“I want you to revisit a potion from Second Year. Collect the ingredients for and brew a Wiggenweld Potion. You have the rest of the afternoon to do so and you can chat amongst yourselves. I’ll be making rounds so if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Auden Vincent raises his hand, waving it so fast there is genuine worry he might hit another student. Deciding not to repress his smile, George acknowledges the Sixth Year.

“Sir,” Auden begins, “Did you enjoy your time at Hogwarts?”

“What does that have to do with a Wiggenweld Potion, Auden?”

Auden shrugs, a large smile on his face that shows he knows exactly what he is doing. “I can’t help but be curious, you haven’t been here as long as the other teachers.”

“Three years, Auden. I’ve been teaching you Potions for three years.”

“Still,” The young teenager argues, “I think we would like to get to know you more.”

George sighs and glances at the clock. Knowing Auden and his tendency to disrupt lessons, George chooses to give in to the teenager. “I enjoyed my time at Hogwarts very much. Now, please, get on with your potion.”

From the frown that spreads across Auden’s face, it is clear that George has not given enough information. Already, the fight begins to light in Auden’s eyes, more and more questions rising to the brink, ready to be dropped into conversation and derail George’s lesson.  

“Auden,” George sighs, “Before you ask any more questions, understand that I attended Hogwarts through the Second Wizarding War. Whilst I enjoyed my time at the school, I also fought in the war.”

Any argument Auden was going to pose falls flat; the fight leaves his eyes in a second. The teenager nods wordlessly before turning his attention back to the set work. George feels awful; he would love to do nothing more than to tell his students about his time at Hogwarts, but all of his memories contain Fred, and even though it’s been years, and even though his grief doesn’t haunt him as often as it used to, he just isn’t ready to verbalise such happy memories.

Rolling up his sleeves, George starts to wander around the classroom he has made his own. A whole wall is dedicated to lines and lines of ingredients; each one sealed in jars and carefully labelled. Think back to his own lessons in this very classroom, George can see how the room has lightened with his presence. The darkness that encompassed Snape completely absent as George expertly weaves through tables and past students.

He smiles encouragingly at every student; letting them know where they’re going and where they need some improvement. George believes that it is important to revisit past potions, to keep minds sharp and fingers nimble before moving onto something more difficult.

It’s as George is leant over the cauldron of Alexandra Shea that the door to the classroom opens. “I’ll be one moment,” George calls out before pointing Alexandra in the right direction.

“Take all the time you need, Professor Weasley.”

George smiles before he can help himself. Your relationship had never been a secret; the whole school knowing the two of you were in love long before either of you realise, but George still tried to keep some level of professionalism around students.

Tried being the operative word.

You stand by the doorway, one of George’s jumpers hanging from your torso, the sleeves are so long that they swallow your hands. A tired smile is on your face, your hair barely brushed into some semblance of a ponytail. Professionalism be damned when you look like that.

You’re perfect, he thinks as he brushes himself down before walking over to you.

“Love,” George greets as he sends the class back to their potions, “What are you doing up? You’re teaching tonight.”

You shrug, a soft smile spreading across your face, “I missed you. I wanted to see you.”

George smiles, feeling the familiar flush spread up his neck and to his cheeks. Years on, and you still make him feel like a teenage boy experiencing his first tryst with love. “Consider me flattered, Professor,” George flirts.

“You should be,” You counter, the soft smile still on your face, “Will I see you tonight?”

Friday evenings had been reserved for you two. Your schedule as the Astronomy Professor meant that you worked markedly different hours from George, but regardless of the piles of work and awkward hours, Friday evenings were set aside for you both.

Reaching out for your hand, George tangles your fingers together before squeezing. His gaze doesn’t leave yours as he replies, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I have to know the story behind Corona Borealis.”

You shake your head in exasperated fondness, “You’ve heard that one before.”

“I’ve heard them all before,” George reminds you; knowing your curriculum just as well as his own, “But every time feels like the first time when you tell me the story.”

You roll your eyes, “A flirt, Weasley. That’s what you are.”

“Only for you,” He mouths, not letting his students overhear every word of your conversation. George brings your hand to his lips, dropping a kiss to the back of it before dropping it, “Go back to bed, love. I’ll come see you before dinner.”

The smile on your face grows as you stand on your tiptoes, pressing a long kiss to his cheek – an innocent act that only holds headier promises for the future. “I’ll be waiting, Weasley.”

A flush spreads across George’s face as he watches you go, closing the door behind you. He waits a moment, calming down before turning back to the class. His students try to look as if they haven’t heard the whole exchange, intensely focused on the potions brewing in front of them.

“Not a word, Auden,” George warns, pointing at the student before throwing himself back into the melee.

-----------

Over his time as a Professor, George had come to known the ghosts of Hogwarts. As a student, he hadn’t bothered getting to know them – believing that pranks and jokes were of a higher importance that hearing the histories relayed by Professor Binns. However, now older and wiser, George made sure to spend time with the spectres that floated down corridors and through walls. He spoke to them, hearing their stories, understanding their histories.

George doesn’t admit it to anyone why he seeks out to know the stories of the ghosts of Hogwarts. He doesn’t tell a soul that he’s trying to find the answer to the one question that has plagued his mind since he took up the job offer from McGonagall all those years ago.

Nearly Headless Nick had greeted him with the same amount of gusto as he had when George was a First Year worried about spending his first night away from home and his mum. Nick often checked in with the Gryffindor he had watched grow up; often floated to the dungeon to see how George was doing, frequently staying longer to talk about anything and everything that occupied either of their minds.

The Bloody Baron was harder to talk to. A staunch Slytherin, the ghost was dedicated to his house, but warmed up to George somewhat when George explained how he worked and spent most of his time in the dungeon teaching Slytherins.

Peeves the Poltergeist has only ever respected a handful of people. Begrudgingly, he would admit that he admired the Marauders – confessing it now as they had all passed on and his words could not be used against him. Nonetheless, Peeves would tell any soul who would listen for than one minute that he respected the Weasley twins and their dedication to all things mischief. For George, it was easier to talk to Peeves. They could compare prank ideas and products for the shop, and slowly but surely, George grew to understand Peeves backstory.

Late at night, however, George couldn’t help but wonder whether there was one more ghost in the castle he had yet to meet.

The curiosity niggled at the back of his mind; the very idea of it settled deep within his bones, stirring him to life in the middle of the night when the ghosts were at their busiest. Countless times, George had woken from a daze to find himself with his hand on the handle to his door, ready to turn and find out for himself.

On one hand, George desperately wants to know whether there is a chance.

On the other hand, George knows that he barely coped in the months after the war. He knows that if he doesn’t get the answer he so desires, it could the setback he has been dreading.

----------

The corridors of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry have always had an uncomfortable atmosphere to them. When filled with the rushed footsteps of students, the pathways have a lighter air to them, but after the students are safely tucked up in their beds, the darker parts of the castle come out to play.

George’s grip on your hand remains tight as you both wander through the corridors of the school, keeping an eye out for straying students. Scores of portraits decorate the stone walls of the castle; each one a prominent figure throughout the history of witchcraft and wizardry. Each one is asleep; their snores punctuating the silence between you and George.

Checking the old watch on his left wrist, George sighs with relief, “Midnight. We can get back to bed now.”

You smile, happy for your extra-curricular task to be done, “Thank Merlin. Let’s head back.”

Something feels different about the corridors as the both of you make your way back to your shared rooms. There’s a charge to the air around you, something electric that only has your steps quickening the closer you get to your rooms.

It’s the odd flashes of silver you spy out of the corner of your eye that have your steps beginning to falter. There was a ghost nearby, but it could not be Peeves – you hear him before you see him unless he has something especially sinister planned. It’s not Nick, the Baron or the Friar – they’re all at Ravenclaw Tower, trying to persuade the Grey Lady to socialise more.

It has to be someone new.

But as you catch eyes with George, you realise that it has been years since a new ghost has made Hogwarts its home. The Battle of Hogwarts had created ghosts and spectres galore, but in the aftermath, they had all found their peace and moved on.

“Georgie?” A voice calls and George promptly freezes, his hand falling from your grip as he trips up on thin air.

“George?” You murmur, puzzled at his sudden stop.

He can feel the colour drain from his face; feel the unwelcome churning of his gut as memory after memory washes over him. That voice… he hasn’t heard that voice in years.

“George… it’s me,” The voice calls out once more; it sounding stronger now, surer of itself.

Steeling his nerves and his heart, George turns in the direction of the spectral call.

He meets a face identical to his, but not. He meets a face that has not aged, has not hurt, has not cried in years. He meets a face entirely youthful and at peace.

George meets the face of his twin brother, Fred.

“Fred?” George whispers, voice breaking from sheer disbelief. In that one word alone, you can hear the years of grief and upset. You can feel the tears that will surely fall later tonight; you can see the pain written across George’s face.

Fred smiles: it’s as watery as you can get for a spectral vision, but it’s there. “It’s me, Georgie,” He reassures, “I promise.”

“It’s been so long,” George states needlessly. “So long,” He repeats as if counting the days of absences for his brother, noting each second, minute and hour that he has been without his twin.

“Who’s looking after the shop?” Fred asks, changing subject, dragging his brother away from the dark path he once wandered alone.

“Ron,” George answers, “He has some help from Harry on the weekends when it gets busier, but Ron is managing a lot. I think Bill is wanting to help out more too.”

“That’s good,” Fred nods. “You seem to fit in well, Professor Weasley,” Fred comments, gesturing to the robes now adorning his brother’s frame.

George laughs, his hand reaching for yours once more as you remain silent through the whole exchange, “Who would have thought it?”

“Not me,” Fred snorts, laughing at George’s bark of protest. All too quickly, Fred’s eyes are drawn to you, standing by George’s side, hand clasped in his ever so tightly. Your heartbeat quickens at seeing the stark youth on Fred’s face.

“It’s been too long, (Y/N),” Fred greets.

“How are you, Fred?”

“Better now that I know he isn’t alone.”

“You were watching?” George asks, tone aghast.

Fred gives his twin a look that coveys not only his brother’s stupidity but also the overwhelming brotherly love Fred has for his twin. “Of course I was. That’s how I knew I could come to you now. You aren’t alone, you’re managing.”

“I haven’t been alone for three years,” George points out as if would make an ounce of difference to Fred’s reasoning for showing up tonight.

Fred rolls his eyes. “I know that, but you weren’t ready. I could have appeared months ago but chose not to. I wanted you to be okay after I go again.”

George’s hand tighten around yours; his knuckles whitening as Fred’s words sink in. “You’re not a regular ghost of the castle are you? Not like Nick or Peeves?”

Fred shakes his head. “I have to go back,” He says, gesturing behind him as if the place in which he now belongs is right there within reach, “But I wanted to see you, so I got my wish.”

“I got mine too,” George says so quietly you wonder whether you’ve misheard him.

“You look old,” Fred laughs, defusing the tension that threatens to boil over any moment.

George snorts, speaking without thinking, “That’s what life will do to you.”

George immediately freezes as the words leave his mouth. He meets Fred’s gaze, a thousand apologues ready and willing to fall from his lips as rain would fall from the sky. Sorrow is written in every premature line, and in every blink of his eyes, but George doesn’t get to speak the words

“I know,” Fred replies. The both of them more than aware that those two words cover more than the apology left unsaid just now by George. They cover years of repenting on George’s behalf; for not being there, for not saying goodbye, for not protecting his brother.

“Will you do me a favour?” Fred asks, drawing his brother back from the depths of his mind and his grief.

“Anything.”

“Tell Mum, I’m okay? I know she worries, and I know she misses me. I just… I need her to know that I’m okay and I’m looked after.”

“I’ll floo home this weekend and tell her,” George promises; conviction and determination weighing down his voice.

“I have to go,” Fred comments, sadness in his tone as he glances back behind him, as if hearing a call only audible to his ears alone.

“I miss you,” George whispers as Fred fades away.

His twin brother pauses, lifting a hand to him, “I’m always with you, George.”

Those are his final words before he fades away back to the afterlife; the place in which he watches over every member of his family, keeping an eye on them like a determined guardian angel.

-----------

The walk to your shared room is completed in a daze. You had known Fred from your time as a student; unable to get away from the stories of his pranks, but as your relationship with George progressed, you felt as if you knew him better.

Fred’s visit was unexpected, and as your hand only wraps around George’s tighter, you can only wonder what was running through his mind.

He doesn’t speak as you push open the heavy wooden door to your rooms; doesn’t speak as you lead him to the bed. “Love,” You say gently, “We need to get ready for bed.”

George does so woodenly; still in a daze with what he’s just experienced in the corridor. You watch him with worried eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek as he pulls back the covers and slides into bed.

Tomorrow, you promise yourself. Tomorrow you would broach the subject; you would let him have tonight to work through the flurry of emotions no doubt rushing through his veins this very moment.

As your eyes grow heavy, you fist your hand into George’s thin t-shirt, reminding him that you’re here.

----------

George doesn’t sleep. He feels your breathing slow; watching the exact moment your eyes start to flutters as dreams begin. Gently he shifts in bed, sliding out from the covers and leaving you behind as he tries to work through the events of the evening.

He wanders out to the small living area; big enough to fit a couch and a table that is used more for marking than it is for eating. George slumps down onto the couch; running a hand down his face and waiting for the inevitable tears to start flowing down his face.

At the same time, he feels such sorrow and such relief. For years now, George has carried the weight of his guilt surrounding Fred’s death on his shoulders. On his more dramatic days, George would compare it to the weight Atlas feels when holding the Earth. George has carried this burden for so long, and in a ten minute conversation with the ghost of his dead twin, he has been absolved of it.

He doesn’t know the extent of what he is supposed to feel.

George stares into the permanently lit fire; questioning all he can about the events of the evening. The guilt and grief he carries for his brother is what kept him from replying to McGonagall all those years ago; it was what had him rejecting the idea altogether. Instead, after a conversation with Ron, he said yes, and so far, George had yet to regret such a decision.

After all, if he had said no, he would not have met you, and would not have fallen in love so desperately.

George thinks of you; thinks of how you stood by his side, hand holding his tightly as George spoke to his brother. You had to have questions. George had told you everything; he couldn’t keep a secret from you. This was discovered early in your relationship when George had blabbed about the presents he had got you for Christmas – way too excited to know your reaction rather than wait.

He continues to stare at the fire; mind running through memories of Fred, wondering whether McGonagall would give him next week off to go home and be there for Molly when George inevitably passes on Fred’s message.

How does he do it? How does he begin to live his life now that Fred has forgiven him?

He has carried this burden for so long; passing it you when you asked to help. For years, after his death, Fred was a massive part of his life. George has lost count of the times over the years that he has heard something hilarious and turned to share it with Fred only to find he no longer stands at his side. How George rushed home the weekend he asked you to be his partner; desperate not only to tell his mum he thinks he’s found the love of his life, but to tell Fred as well to find his mother waiting with happy tears in her eyes and no sign of Fred whatsoever.

“George,” You rasp from the bedroom door, voice heavy from disturbed sleep, “Come back to bed.”

George nods, not speaking as he climbs back into bed. Positions change immediately. Usually, it would be you who would cuddle up the redhead, wanting to wrap yourself around him and fall asleep with his scent enveloping you. Instead, it is George’s turn to hide his face in your clothed shoulder as your arm wraps around him comfortingly. His whole body shudders as a fresh wave of grief overtakes him, but you’re there for every battering and every sob.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, running a hand through his hair.

George shakes his head, calming himself down long enough to whisper, “Not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry,” You repeat, “It wasn’t as if you were expecting that tonight.”

“I wasn’t,” George admits, tears starting to slow, “I didn’t think I would see him ever again.”

“Are you glad that you have?”

George nods; his nose brushing your collarbone, “I am. I miss him just as much as I did in the beginning, but I know I’m going to come out of the other side now.”

“You do?”

“I do. I have you.”

******

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