#so they will be fixed just most likely whenever the next chapter comes out

[kyistell]

I uh..I did a thing...tee-hee?

Ignore that it has been several days since I first posted it and I'm only JUST doing this, that's not important!!!

[savingcrxws]

EYES ON FIRE | maybe someday

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synopsis. you and carmen just keep bumping into each other.

word count. 4.3k (gah damn)

warnings. language, hardly proofread again i'm sorry its an addiction

authors note. thank u guys so much for the support in these previous chapters! it’s really amazing to me that u guys enjoyed it so much! i would recommend listening to maybe someday by the cure for this chapter!

“Yeah, Sugar. The appointment is booked for Thursday, the reps will probably be coming in at like…three o’clock,” you mutter, flipping through the manila folder absolutely stuffed with documents and sticky notes. 

You pursue your lips at all you had to get done within this week alone–sign installation permit, permit to replace the hot water heater, permit to fix the ventilation systems, reapply for occupancy capacity signs because of the restaurants lack of other permits, and holy shit…

You completely forgot to schedule the follow-up appointment with the BACP consultant. 

You groan, slamming the thick folder into your forehead, the papers thwacking against your skull. Natalie sounds startled on the other end of the phone, no doubt hearing the sound on her end of the call. She questions if you’re okay, and you only respond with a gentle hum before tossing the folder back down on the office table. 

“Hey, Suge, do you think I can call you back later? I need to schedule a follow-up consultation with Raquel before another rep hops on my ass about the boiler replacement.” 

“Of course, hun, call me back whenever you can,” Sugar starts and you can hear some papers flicking in her side of the call as well.

You had managed to convince her to work from home more often, worried that all the stress from the demolition inside would affect her pregnancy and her overall wellbeing. After some back and forth, she had begrudgingly agreed to spend two days working on the project from the comfort of her own couch. 

And even though she complains still, you know she appreciates she has a little bit more time off of her feet. 

“Don’t work yourself too hard, okay, Bug?” 

You nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “Same for you, Bear.” Sugar hums once again before you both give your goodbyes and end the call. 

You expel all of the air out of your chest in a large puff as you slide down the office chair.

After signing onto Team Bear, your new home-away-from-home had been this tiny office in the back of the restaurant. For the most part, no one came in and disrupted your work, which allowed you to have your head shoved into piles of paperwork, be stuck on phone calls, and be forced to reread legal jargon for hours on end with little interruption. 

Well, as little interruption as there could be with the restaurant quite literally falling apart around you. 

Thankfully, everyone was very respectful of your work in helping the developing business. You were practically putting every ounce of knowledge that you learned from both college and the real-world experience (including connections within the industry) to help push the restaurant closer to the deadline. All the while still dealing with your other commitments to other businesses that you had prior to signing on to this project.

Staying at The Bear for eight hours a day had its benefits, though.

For example, there was always something entertaining going on in the background. Like last Tuesday, when Fak had decided to send a sledgehammer directly into the only remaining wall of the office–sending bits and pieces of drywall onto your clothes.

Another benefit of being stuck in that office chair is that you had an excuse to ignore everyone around you. And by everyone, you really mean Carmen.

After the awkward office run-in last week, the two of you hardly spoke to each other. Sure, there was the ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ that you threw to each other and the words you exchanged when you caught him up on the status of licensing, but you two had yet to have an actual conversation.

It was clear that the both of you were still walking on eggshells around each other—and everyone could see it. But you had an inkling feeling that Carmen had been wanting to say something, judging by the short glances you sometimes catch him throwing in your direction.

Kinda similar to the one that he’s giving you right now.

You feel the heat of his stare on your face before you see it. He’d been staring at you for a couple moments now, long enough for you to no longer consider it an inquisitive glance.

You peek up from the folder and make solid eye contact with Carmen through the hole in the wall. The man flushes almost immediately, the red color sinking past his collar. You purse your lips and give a small nod of acknowledgment and he stutters in his spot.

And then he’s turning away.

Like he wasn’t the one just staring at you a moment ago.

You roll your eyes and turn back to your original position in the seat. Picking the folder up again, you flick to the papers listing the requirements for the next fire suppression test.

“Men,” you mutter, before picking up your phone and making a phone call.

Three days later, the office is completely demolished and your work revolving around The Bear has been moved to a family-owned coffee shop two blocks over.

In the short span of time, all of the walls in the store had been busted down and the restaurant had practically turned into a hazardous wasteland. And since construction was too far out of your pay grade, you decided to leave the heavy lifting up to everyone else.

“Alright, permit done!” You throw your hands up in the air, your theatrics catching the attention of a couple next to you. You could hardly care for the stares, though, you had been working on getting that permit for the past four days straight. Slamming your laptop shut, you pack up your bags and head off to the cash register to buy another coffee before you go.

While you wait for your drink, you decide to scroll aimlessly through your phone to kill some time.

“Oh shit,” you hear a voice utter behind you, and you barely have time to process the word before something ice cold is running down your back. “Fuck, I’m fucking sorry, I didn’t even see you—“

You gasp on reflex, taking a step forward and shivering. The person who spilled their drink on you is stuttering out apologies. The liquid seeps into the jacket you were wearing and you pull it off immediately.

“Yo, what the fuck, dude,” you curse, watching the large stain of coffee spread even farther across your jacket. “Watch where the hell you’re walking—”

In the middle of trying to give the perpetrator a piece of your mind, you failed to recognize the familiar sound of the voice that was spewing apology out of apology. But in a second, your eyes met a recognizable set of blue and you halted your words.

In front of you stands Carmen Berzatto. In his signature colored sweater and a half-spilled cup of coffee in his hand.

And he looks petrified.

It seems he didn’t realize just who was the unlucky victim to his americano attack either until you turned around. His mouth agape, he utters out a jumbled apology, glancing back at you, your stained jacket, and the cup in his hand like his brain was still trying to understand what just happened.

“Uh-uh, fuck, sorry, I swear this wasn’t on purpose,” he rambles, placing his cup on the counter behind you and grabbing some napkins right after. He steps back towards you and shoves his hand of napkins to you. “Here, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You sigh, taking the napkins from him, noting the slight tremor that persisted in his hands as you did so. Taking in a slow breath, you close your eyes and count to ten before responding. “It’s okay, Carmen. Don’t worry about it.”

And even though you tried to maintain your peace, you can hear the annoyance seeping out of your words. Carmen glances around the counter before looking back at you and your soaked jacket. You know he probably wants to apologize some more, but honestly, one more apology might land him with a punch to the gut. 

Just as he opens his mouth, you raise your free hand, silencing him immediately. You shake your head in dismissal before taking the napkins offered to you and blotting the coffee out of the fabric of your jacket. Carmen simply stood in his place, watching you, seeing if he could do anything to redeem himself in this situation. 

However, after they called your name for your drink order, you dumped the used napkins in the trash, took your drink and hightailed it out of the café without one more word to the man. 

After the coffee shop incident, you swear that you started to see Carmen everywhere. 

You needed a quiet place to plan outside of your house so you went to one of the local libraries. Guess who’s walking outside the building?

You need a late night snack and decide to hit up the corner store. Guess who’s in the refrigerated section?

Hell, you decide to stay late at The Bear for some last minute checkups? Guess who forgot to grab a few things before leaving that night?

You swear that before you hopped on The Bear train, you never even saw a glimpse of the man. Sure, you lived relatively near the restaurant, but Chicago is fucking huge, there’s no way you would run into one of the few people that you’re trying to avoid. 

Absolutely not, apparently. 

Finally finishing up the weekly budget report and estimate for the following weeks till open, you decide to take a step away from work for a second and give your brain some time to breath. 

“Hey, Syd, if anyone needs me, I’m outside taking a smoke break, ‘kay,” you yell across the restaurant, receiving a thumbs up from her from the other side of the room. “Be back in 15!”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pack of cigs and a lighter before heading to the back entrance of the restaurant. You place the cigarette between your lips and head to the backdoor. Stepping out and around the alley to the designated smoke corner, you fiddle with the lighter switch, hearing the light sizzle but seeing no flames emerge. 

You groan, flicking the lighter again and again and still no lig–

“Umm, uh, you need a light?”

You scream, your heart almost skipping a beat and falling out on the concrete below you. In your alarm, both your cigarette and the lighter drop on to the ground. "Shit," you mutter and throw a glance over at whoever had scared the living shit out of you and, surprise suprise . . .

There was Carmen, standing in the alley a few feet away from the door. One leg was kicked up to rest his foot against the wall behind him and a cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. His eyes trailed across you for a second, then he glanced at the cigarette on the ground before taking another draw from his own and staring out the wall in front of him.

If you had half of the energy, you would tell him off for scaring the shit out of you and book it out of the enclosed space.

Lucky for Carmen, however, you really needed that cigarette.

Reaching back into your bag once more, you pull out another cig and walk slowly over to the man. Your steps gain his attention once again and when your eyes met you gestured to the lighter hanging out of his cooking apron.

He grabs the lighter and hands it to you. As you reach out to grab it, your fingers brush against his knuckles. Some quick thought in the back of your head wishes that that physical interaction lasted a little longer, but you're quick to shoo that away into the deep recesses of your mind.

Lighting your cigarette, you hand the lighter back to him before taking a drag. Blowing the smoke out, you slid down the wall until you could lean back into a squat against it.

The two of you just stand there, in complete silence aside from the occasional cough from an improper pull. This quiet isn't nearly as awkward as the first run-in the two of you had. Maybe it's because of the nicotine or maybe it's because continuously running into Carmen over these past days had subconsciously made you a little more comfortable with his presence.

. . .

Nah, it definitely had to be the nicotine.

You glance up at Carmen, who continues to smoke even though his stick had turned into a bud a while ago. You make note of the new tattoos that run down his arms and hands, eyes stopping at the rose flower tattoo on his left hand.

You remember when he got that one done with you at the parlor for his eighteenth birthday.

Subconsciously, you rub at the matching rose on your thigh before sighing and focusing back on your cigarette. Young, dumb decisions, you think.

Above you, Carmen watches your focus retreat back and purses his lips. In all honesty, Carmen usually never finishes a whole cigarette, but he really needed an excuse to stay out here longer with you.

These past couple of days had been tormenting him just as much as it had been you, albeit for different reasons. Everytime Carmen ran into you, whether it be in that cafe or that random grocery store that one early morning, he was plagued with memories of everything that he had fucked up.

Not just the relationship that he had fucked, but the happiness that he had stolen from the both of you.

And he had so desperately been trying to apologize, but every time you saw his face, you would get that look on your own. That dread, the anxiousness, that annoyance. That anger.

Whenever he saw that expression on your face, he would get too choked up to say anything of significance. A simple 'hey" would be all that would leave his mouth. Either that or he would stutter like he was a fucking kid again and embarrass himself in front of you like he seems to be doing constantly lately.

Carmen sighs, taking a final hit from his cigarette before stomping it out on the ground. By all previous experience, Carmen would book it out of the area by now, but something in his gut was telling him to stay this time.

Glancing down at you once more, he sees that you have taken to scrolling through your phone to kill the time. He bites the corner of his lip and decides to sit against the wall like you.

Instinctively, you toss him a questioning glance but when he didn't make any move to speak or gesture towards you, you shook your head and went back to whatever video had popped up on your feed.

Fuck it, he thought.

"I'm sorry."

You halt in the middle of your smoke, nearly coughing on the fumes but managing to swallow it. You look over at Carmen inquisitively, wondering where the hell that apology came from. The dirty blonde was wringing his hands, mouth opening and shutting as if he was trying to get the words out.

"Sorry for the, uh," he mutters, casting a quick glance in your direction to assure himself that you were listening. "Sorry for the, for uh-You know I didn't-I don't know how-"

"Yo, Carmen," you interrupt the world vomit that he was spewing, tossing your cigarette down before snuffing out the light with your shoe. You center your focus back on the man next to you, who seemed to only have you in his attention. "Just say what you want to say. No bullshit."

Your blunt words seem to ground Carmen long enough for him to gather his thoughts. He nods his head rapidly in that way he does when he's clearly overwhelmed before he clears his throat. He takes in a large inhale and clears his throat, ready to speak again.

"I want to apologize. For everything. For how much of an jackoff I was back then, and for how much I am right now," Carmen stars, eyes staring solidly into yours to show just how serious he is. "I didn't deserve you, and you did nothing to deserve the way that we ended."

You feel something burn the back of your throat at the mention of the end of your relationship. The total radio silence from him for the days prior, and just when you had managed to gather the courage to ask the question of just what the hell are we doing, Carmy, you were cast aside like nothing.

He was right, you didn’t deserve that.

Pushing back the feelings bubbling up in your chest, you nod your head to signal that you were listening.

"I-I, it's no excuse, but I was really going through some serious shit. And I really felt that if I cut everyone out of my life, I could actually get a second to breathe you know," Carmen pauses and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. "I-I just know you deserved-you deserve better. But seeing you in this restaurant day-in and day-out, working away to help my sister, my crew--help me? I just felt even more like a piece of shit."

He turns fully towards you now and you can see his eyes turning red from the emotion he was clearly holding behind his words. "You didn't deserve what I did, and you definitely don't deserve to be cleaning up my messes now."

"You deserved the world, and I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you."

His last words send a sharp pang into your chest. Here you two sat, sitting next to each other, the distance between you two seemed to be filled with words unsaid. You stare into his eyes a little longer, at a loss for what to say completely.

On one hand, you wanted to reject his apology, tell him to fuck off and leave him alone in this alleyway. He would deserve it after everything.

But he has that familiar kicked puppy-dog look in his eyes and he's chewed his lip red, and he's actually sorry.

You sigh, leaning your head back to rest against the wall behind you. Staring up at the sky, you trace the shapes of the clouds above as you collect your thoughts.

"Yeah," you start, nodding your head to yourself. Carmen tenses up at the ambiguity behind both your words and your tone. He would have to have his own head shoved up his ass if he didn't realize that you had every right to refuse his plea for forgiveness. Frankly, that's exactly what he was expecting you to do.

"Yeah, okay. I can forgive you, Berzatto."

Carmen's heart sinks into his guts, mouth slightly agape in pure shock. "You-you can?"

You give a small smile, turning your head to face the man. "Yeah, Carmen, I accept your apology."

The dirty blonde opens his mouth again but you put a hand up in the space between you, effectively shutting him up for a second.

"But," you trail, "I'm gonna forward you that dry cleaning bill from that cafe, asshat. I've been trying to get that shit out for days now."

Carmen flushes a bright red at the mention of the coffee shop run-in you two had, a broken chuckle leaving his mouth at the obvious teasing tone in your voice. You were joking with him, for the first time in years, you two had managed to glimpse at the level of comfortability that you once shared.

Carmen chuckles again, running a hand through his curls. "Yeah, well, can I raincheck that until after the restaurant starts making money? I'm kinda flat fucking broke right now."

You giggle at the honesty behind his words. "Yeah, I ran those calculations by the way. Have fun being flat broke for at least three months after The Bear opens."

"Shit," Carmen mutters, a grin still on his face.

"Yeah, shit." You nod in his direction before pushing yourself off your crouched position on the ground. "Anyway, I'm gonna head inside to get back on that shit. Fak's fucking electric guy keeps flaking on us."

Carmen's eyes follow your form as you stand, holding eye contact with you when you glance back down at him. "Yeah, yeah, I should probably meet up with Syd for the chaos menu anyway."

He hurriedly stands up, wiping his hands on his work pants. After he finishes, he looks at you once again, noting the small smile on your face. For a second, he swears his heart skips a beat.

"For the record, Carmy," you play with the nickname on your tongue, having not said it in quite some time. Carmen flushes before nodding for you to continue. The small on your face falls for a second as you look at him. "You pull that shit with me again, I'm sicking the dogs on your ass. Seriously."

Carmen clears his throat, straightening up at the more serious tone of your voice. Although you were not nearly as angry looking at him as before, he knew that you were serious. There were no more apologies after this, no more fuckups.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for some form of acknowledgment.

He nods. "Yes, chef."

After the conversation outside The Bear, you and Carmen seemed to flow together much easier than before. Granted there was the occasional stray glance casted in your direction from the man, but overall, the two of you were on much more agreeable terms.

The rest of the crew seemed to notice the absence of uncertain tension between the two of you. You explained to Tina, Richie, and Sugar that you two had simply talked it out and were no longer on "spiteful ex" terms.

Richie, being the annoying man that he is, insisted that something else must've happened--to which you responded with a firm shoulder check and yet another middle finger.

Overall, the two of you seemed to only talk about business stuff, which made it easier for conversations to flow. Less personal, more concrete talks.

"Alright, Carmy, we got that certificate of occupancy, right?" You question, running down the legal checklist once again. When you heard no response, you asked again, only to be ignored again. Finally looking up from your screen, you glance up at the man, trying to figure out what could have possibly distracted him this time.

He's glancing, moreso glaring, down at his phone, watching it ring but making no moves to pick it up. He's spaced out almost, like he's lost in his thoughts.

You clear your throat and decide to try his name again. "Carmen!"

He shoots up a little and looks at you, muttering an apology out as he clicks his phone off and slides it into his back pocket. "What were you asking?"

"Umm, I was trying to see if you got that certificate of occupancy from Cicero mailed in," you raise an eyebrow at him. "You know, the one we need to get that other big, shiny certificate that shows that we can legal conduct business in the state of Illinois? That certificate?"

"Uhh, yeah, yeah. Mailed it in the other day, yeah."

You squint at his weird responses before shaking your head and diving back into your work. "Well, on another note, I've been speaking with a liason down at the office and he said we can have our second fire suppression test in two weeks instead of the project four."

Carmen walks up to the foldable chair you were sitting in, peering over your shoulder to look at your screen. He rests his hand against the back of your chair unconsciously and you can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You clear your throat and lean forward a little to get some distance between the two of you.

"Who's that going to?" The man points to an email that you are in the middle of drafting. Your eyes follow and land on the email you were writing to one of your school buddies. "Oh that? I'm just messaging one of my old classmates from college about an idea I had about our issues with that retail food license thing."

Carmen humms, peeking down at you as you explained the process you were thinking of going through. Though your eyes were stuck on the screen, clicking through different documents as you continued your explanation, Carmen's eyes were glued to your face.

To him, this all felt like some weird dream that he was having. His former high school sweetheart, sitting in his restaurant, talking all kinds of smart talk that he could barely understand, practically pressed against him. Although he didn't move over to your chair with the intent to press against you, he definitely noticed the proximity that you two shared.

Life had been a whirlwind these past weeks, but he felt that when he was near you that a lot of those anxieties he often has screaming in his head quieted down a little. He tried to chalk it up to the confidence that he had in your skills, but even though you are incredibly talented in your work, he knew that it was something more than that.

Something that he had to swallow down.

"Carmy, you motherfucker, are you even listening to me?" You call out, turning more in your chair and fixing him with an annoyed glare. Carmen swallows before nodding his head. "Ye-yeah, you have a plan to get that retail food license and alcohol seller's license at once right?"

You hum, giving him a once over again before turning in your seat. "Exactly. I think that my buddy Stephen can help us with that fire suppression test, he knows a thing or two--"

Carmen's eyes trace down your eyes, nose, and lips, noting the signature bite marks you left on your bottom one. He runs a tongue across his own before carding a hand through his hair to collect himself.

He was so fucked.

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[jeankluv]

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 17

words: 4k

summary: While everyone adored him, you stood apart in your feelings. It wouldn't be accurate to say you hated him, as " hate " was a strong word, rather, you harbored a profound dislike towards him. The problem was he knew that and his irritating presence seemed to persistently cling to you whenever he crossed your paths.

Now, you found yourself paired with him for your semester project, and the thought made you wish to hurl yourself out of the third-floor window. Three months of working alongside him loomed ahead. Adding to the discomfort, you were currently under the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, each gaze feeling like a murder attempt. It seemed everyone coveted the opportunity to collaborate with Gojo Satoru, except for you.

ac: _3aem

tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

warning for this chapter: mentions of s€xual harassment

notes: posting this before chapter 265, bc I’m scared 😭 also during this month I will be posting a sneak peek of an upcoming Gojo fic I will be posting, if you want to be tagged to see the sneak peek please let me know , comment something like “I want to see the sneek peak” and I will tag you 💗

materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

jujutsu kaisen | ao3

Satoru Gojo POV

Satoru tied the buttons of the vest he was wearing. He had put on a navy blue three-piece suit, or rather he had been forced by the Utahime to do so. It seems that way he would go with you that night. Satoru looked at his reflection, he looked good, but no matter how much he dried his hands, they were still sweaty. Satoru was extremely nervous. There were a bunch of things that were in his head but they all danced around the charity gala that night.

He was nervous about the gala, about meeting his parents after the last time, meeting his grandparents, meeting the other families present, but what he was most nervous about was seeing you. Satoru didn't feel ashamed to take you to the gala if he could, Satoru would come in shouting from the rooftops to ask everyone to look at you and admire you. But Satoru knew that one wrong step could ruin everything and that could hurt you in a way he didn't want.

Putting his hand on his chest, he took a deep breath and grabbed his car keys to leave his apartment. There were still 20 minutes until the agreed time to see you, but Satoru preferred to wait for himself than make you wait so he drove, with his gaze fixed on the road.

The sun was still shining but the sky had already begun to take on that orange tone that indicated that night was about to arrive. It was evident that summer was just around the corner, the days had become longer and the temperatures had begun to rise. Satoru was looking forward to it, he had too many plans for the both of you in mind, he wanted to take you to the beach again, take you to festivals, to see the fireworks, etc., Satoru wanted to spend the first of many summers to come with you.

He parked the car, right in front of your house and stayed inside the car as he waited for the time to come. His leg moved up and down and his heart pumped heavily into his chest. He knew you were going to look beautiful and that he, was going to lose his head and fell to his knees.

With barely 5 minutes left, Satoru got out of his car and put on his suit so that it wouldn't look wrinkled after sitting in the car. He felt how the people passing by looked at him and began to whisper about him. Most of the time it was something he didn't care about, but now he just wanted a pair of eyes on his.

Satoru heard the door open and his heart began to race, he looked like a teenager in one of those American movies waiting for his partner to take her to the prom. With his hand on his chest, he watched you walk out onto the street and Satoru swore his heart could stop at that moment.

You were wearing a blue dress with gold details, with a v-neckline, which fit at your waist, highlighting your figure and then fell softly to the floor. Satoru approached you and took in the subtle makeup that highlighted your features. You were beautiful, no, the word beautiful was not enough to describe what Satoru's eyes saw. You were a queen, a goddess.

“Stop looking at me with those eyes.” You whispered hiding the heat of your face.

Satoru covered his mouth and then chuckled. “I’m sorry birdie.” His cheeks were red and hurting from the smile that was drawn on his face. “You look… oh god, I could die right here and now.”

You softly laughed and Satoru felt how he was falling in love with you all over again. “Please don’t, I don’t want to use this beautiful dress to be sitting in a hospital room.”

Satoru laughed and kissed your cheeks. “I think we have some stalkers.” He moved his eyebrows looking behind you.

You turned around and looked where Satoru was looking. “I told you to stay inside!” You cried looking at Kyoko and her parents.

“Sorry, sorry but you two look so cute.” Kyoko said with a smile.

You huffed and took Satoru's hand. “Let's go.”

“Have fun and be careful.” You heard Kyoko's mother and father scream. You said goodbye with a smile and got into Satoru's car.

Satoru waved goodbye to them too and entered the car, looking at you with a smile. “Ready?” You nodded, but Satoru noticed your nervous expression, so he intertwined his hands and raised it to his mouth. "Everything will be fine." He said planting a kiss on your hand.

“Thank you.” You whispered with a smile.

Satoru just nodded and resignedly let go of your hand, to hold the steering wheel and drive off to reach the venue where the charity gala would be held. Even though Satoru had tried to reassure you, he was also extremely nervous, either way he wanted to avoid meeting his parents in that place or someone who could potentially ruin your evening, so he would make sure to have all his instincts on alert to that nothing happened and you could enjoy.

His blue eyes focused on the road ahead, the sun was already setting, painting the sky with orange and pink colors. There wasn’t much traffic on your way there, probably because most people left for the weekend to spend their time on the beach.

As you both got closer to where the gala was going to take place, Satoru could feel his hands sweating even more. It was then when he felt your hand on his arm, squishing it gently trying to calm him down.

Satoru released one of his hands from the steering wheel and intertwined your hands, gently caressing it with his thumb, giving you security and strength for the evening that awaited both of you.

When he finally parked the car the parking lot that screamed money, he turned to look at you and held both of your hands with his.

“If you want to leave.” Satoru began. “Doesn’t matter when, just tell me and we leave.” He looked you in the eyes. “And don’t try to pretend to be someone you are not, be yourself. Because your true self is awesome and I hope everyone sees it.”

You looked at him with a warm expression. “You are the amazing one.” You kissed his lips.

Satoru smiled and he got out of the car to turn and open your door, you wrapped his arm tightly and you both began to walk towards the entrance.

Your POV

Your heart was beating frenetically, you didn’t understand why you were that nervous, if it was because you could be meeting Satoru’s family that night, for the people who were attending or because you were scared that you could fucked up everything and make Satoru somehow embarrassed.

Although Satoru’s words were calming and his touch was warm and recomforting, which brought you a big security.

You both entered the elevator with your arm still around Satoru's. You looked at the dress Utahime had given you and smiled, it was beautiful, you felt beautiful that night.

The elevator opened it’s door on the floor that the gala was taking place and your stomach turned, feeling the anxiety taking over you. But once again Satoru’s comforting touch made you relax. You put the best of the smiles on your face and walked proudly beside Satoru.

As you started to enter the big places, you saw how the gazes of curious eyes turned to look at you and started gossiping about you.

“They are probably wondering who is the beautiful girl besides the heir of the Gojo clan, so relax.” Satoru whispered to your ear.

You nodded and tried not to pay too much attention to all the eyes that were in you, but it was difficult as their whispers seemed to become louder with each passing moment. Trying to distract yourself from them you took a look at the place, it was pure luxury, white and gold colors adorned the place and everyone looked fancy.

You didn’t want to feel small looking at those people and that place, but it was hard not to. And it was harder not to think about the difference between you and Satoru. It seemed as if with every minute that passed, it grew even wider and you held on with your nails to keep from falling.

“You okay?” Satoru stood before you, with a concerned look on his face.

“Yes, yes.” You nodded. “It’s just new, all this.”

Satoru leaned towards your face and placed a kiss on your cheek, causing your face to probably take on a reddish hue. “I know it might not be the best moment but I want you to meet someone.” He held your hand and you felt as your heart stopped.

Your legs started to shake as you moved across the place. Satoru greeted those present as he made his way through the people. And your heart only accelerated more with every step you took towards the unknown person or people that he wanted to introduce you to.

His hand tangled with yours gave you security and you knew Satoru would not put you in a thought situation. All your friends were just right about him, he was down on your knees for you. It had been difficult to see him but now every time you looked at him you could see in his eyes the admiration and affection he had for you. And that only made your heart race as fast as it could. Your old self from three months ago would hate to admit it out loud, but you were completely in love with him.

“Grandma, grandpa.” Your mind came back to reality and you found yourself in front of an old couple, Satoru’s grandparents.

“Oh Satoru!” The lady hugged Satoru, who was still holding your hand tightly. “You came and look at you, you look beautiful.”

“Grandma please.” You noticed Satoru’s red cheeks and couldn’t help but smile watching his shy face.

“It’s good to see you son.” His grandfather spoke.

“It’s good to be here.” He smiled. “And I would like to introduce you to someone.” His smile became bigger, he proudly said your name and you felt your heart melting.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Gojo and Mrs. Gojo.” You greeted them with a small bow.

Your heart started to rise when they both stayed in silence looking at you. “Oh darling, you are so beautiful.” His grandmother hugged you. “Satoru has told me about you.” You smiled and looked at Satoru.

“You two are dating?” His grandfather questioned him.

“Yes.” Satoru firmly said.

“Which family are you from?” You felt your heart sinking, you were not ashamed of your mother's surname but you knew why he was asking that question.

“Grandpa…” Satoru began.

But you cut him off and told him your family name. “It’s my mother’s family name.”

He looked at you with a sharp gaze, that could make anyone feel small but you wouldn’t let that happen. “No father?”

Satoru gripped his fits. “Grandpa enough please.”

“No sir, he abandoned my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant.” You said, coldly. You felt Satoru’s eyes on you and you could tell he was probably worried about you.

“Your mother is really brave.” His grandmother spoke. “Satoru told me about you and you seem like a very nice girl.” You bit your lip, your mother had barely raised you, it was only six years that you were together before chance took her away from you.

“Grandma…”

“Yeah.” You smiled. “She is amazing.”

You didn’t know his grandparents and you and Satoru hadn't been dating that long, so his family might get the wrong idea about you and think you were after their fortune. And you didn't want that, because it wasn't true and you trusted Satoru, but you didn't want false ideas put into his head.

“Your parents are looking for you Satoru.” His grandfather spoke once again.

You felt Satoru tense up next to you and in an attempt to calm him down, you ran your hand along his back, trying to make his nervousness disappear. Satoru just nodded and Satoru's grandparents excused themselves to go greet a couple a little further away. Satoru's grandmother gave you a warm smile that made you feel good and calm. When they both left, you both expelled the air you had in your lungs and laughed when you saw that you had made the same gesture.

“Sorry that they asked you about your parents.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay, I knew they could ask me.” He smiled. “Your grandfather told you that your parents are looking for you.”

He sighed. “Yeah but I really don’t feel like seeing them, besides I know they are going to be really harsh with you.”

“I can handle them.”

“Birdie…”

“Oh look how beautiful you look!” A female voice said behind the both of you.

“Utahime!” You smiled.

“You look amazing, everything looks amazing.” She said looking at you.

“You know, if I didn’t know you had a girlfriend I would be jealous thinking you might be flirting with my girlfriend.” Satoru whispered.

“Gojo shut up.” Utahime responded. “But really you look so beautiful.”

“It’s all thanks to you.” You smiled holding her hands.

“Only because the model it’s beautiful.”

You saw Satoru rolling his eyes. “Anyways, Utahime can you stay with birdie?”

“You are already leaving your girlfriend alone?”

“I’m leaving her with you, since the both of you seem to get along so well.”

“We do.” Utahime took your arm.

“Satoru, let me go…” But Satoru shook his head.

“I will see you in a bit.” And kissed your cheek.

You sighed seeing how he disappeared between the people. You wanted to go with him and supporting him if he was facing his parents.

“If he is going to see his parents it’s better like this.” Utahime turned you around and both of you started walking across the room. “They are… they are really complicate and won’t leave you alone.”

“I just want to be there for Satoru.” You looked down.

“And I’m sure Satoru knows that but believe me, I have known the Gojo family since I was literally a kid and his parents are something else.” She shook her head. “Probably as soon as they find out that you are not from any wealthy family, will try to cut your relationship with Satoru.”

You looked at her with concern. “Satoru is an adult, they can’t…”

“These families are not like the rest, most people here only care about their money, their status and their name. They don’t care whether their children are happy or not.”

“That’s why you are hiding it?” You asked her.

“In part, I’m afraid but I also know that my parents are not like most of these families.” She smiled. “I know I would have their support but still I’m afraid and I’m just sending hints to them.” She looked at you.

“I’m glad to hear that Utahime.” You smiled back at her.

“Now let’s go and grab some drinks shall we?” She giggled and started walking towards the bar.

Satoru Gojo POV

Satoru walked through the people that gathered around the room, laughing and chatting happily while drinking expensive wine, as if nothing else mattered. His blue eyes scanned the room searching for those familiar figures, which caused his stomach to close.

When he saw them talking animatedly with a couple, he clenched his fists and took a deep breath, before starting to walk towards them and putting on his best mask.

“Mother, father.” Satoru greeted both of them.

And like the perfect two face they were, they acted as two loving parents. “Oh our lovely son!” His mother said.

“Son this are Mr. And Mrs. Tanaka.” His father introduced them. “They are the owners of a major technology company.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Satoru said with a smile.

“Our son is currently studying a major in technology.” His mother said and Satoru got the urge to punch the air.

“I’m actually studying physics, astrophysics if we are more correct.” Satoru smiled.

“Oh how interesting.” Mr. Tanaka said.

“You are the same age as our daughter.” Mrs. Tanaka smiled.

“Oh really?” His mother said with surprise. “Sana was such a good girl, you two should meet and maybe…”

“Sorry.” Satoru knew where this conversation was going and he was not liking it. “I have a girlfriend and I’m not interested in meeting anyone.”

“Son, don't be stupid, you will probably break up with that girl.” His father said.

“Father, I’m not planning on breaking up with her, I love her. So I would like for both of you to respect that.” He looked at his parents, feeling how heart was starting to race with each sentence being said. “Now if you would excuse me.”

Satoru farewelled from them and started to walk quickly as if the steps he was taking weren’t enough to escape from them. He wanted to see you, to kiss you, to hug you and to take you away from that place.

Satoru walked through the great hall, greeting those who greeted him. He knew most of them and knew that their kindness was nothing more than interest, interest in getting closer to his clan and the company. So Satoru just gave them a smile and continued on his way, searching for you in the crowd.

But Satoru’s heart dropped when he saw the scene a few meters from him.

You were behind Utahime looking down and hiding your face, while Utahime was loudly shouting at the person she had in front of her. Satoru didn’t know what was happening but his pulse, his heart, everything was telling him that something happened and you were not okay.

With big steps he approached the surroundings and finally saw the person Utahime was screaming at, Naoya Zenin. Satoru knew he was not good news, he was the worst of news actually. He took a deep breath and walked to where you and Utahime were.

“Hey.” He ignored Naoya. “What happened?” He touched your face, which was still hidden from his gaze.

“Naoya happened.” Utahime muttered. “That asswhole.” She turned to look at you and whispered your name in a sweet way. “You okay?”

“Utahime tell me what happened.” Satoru begged.

Utahime hesitated, unsure if she should or not tell him what happened. “Well he…”

“No, Utahime… please.” You whispered.

You sounded defeated almost like you were about to pass out. Satoru swallowed, he wanted to know why you were like that but he also didn’t want to push you further.

He took a quick look at Naoya and then took your hand. “We're going to leave.”

“I'm leaving too, I don’t feel like being here anymore.” Utahime said and lovingly rubbed your back.

When you got to the car, unlike other times you didn't get into the passenger seat, but instead you went straight to the back, to sit with Utahime or rather to rest your head on his lap.

Satoru's discomfort did not stop increasing, it killed him to see you like this, it killed him that he could not do anything to help you to alleviate whatever he wanted you to be suffering at that moment.

It wasn't until you were in the car that Satoru saw your face. It was swollen and your eyes were red from crying. The mere thought that Naoya had made you cry made his blood boil. He knew you well enough to know that you were not easy to cry and that you hardly bowed your head, so Naoya had to really hurt you for you to be like this.

Satoru tried to focus on the road but his mind couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t stop racing. When he parked the car in Utahime's building he watched as you both said your goodbyes.

“If you need, call me or Shoko.” You only hummed in response. “Bye Satoru.”

“Bye…” He only said.

And the car stayed quiet, Satoru tried to remain calm and to approach you as calmly as possible. He didn’t know why you were in the state you were but wanted to help you.

“Birdie…” He whispered, looking at you through the interior mirror.

“It was nothing.” You whispered.

Satoru narrowed his eyes and sighed. "Nothing? Birdie, look at the state you’re in, that’s not nothing.”

“Satoru, just… drive me home.” You simply said.

Satoru shook his head and got out of the car and went into the back, sitting next to you. “My love, look at me.”

In that instant, when the words left his mouth, Satoru was not aware of the nickname. For him it had been natural, something that had come from his heart and that he was not afraid to say. But when your red eyes, from crying so much, looked at him, he realized the new nickname he had used.

“You just…” You whispered.

Satoru chuckled and closed his eyes. “Yes birdie, I just did that.” But Satoru couldn't be distracted, he couldn't ignore that you looked completely defeated. “But birdie, please talk to me.”

Satoru felt how your breathing trembled and how you closed your eyes tightly. Without waiting a second, Satoru wrapped you in his arms and his heart broke a little when you began to sob against his vest. His grip tightened, wanting your pain to go away. But he also wanted to go back to that place and beat up Naoya, he didn't know why but he knew that he deserved it.

“He was my boss…” You whispered after a few minutes.

You separated yourself from his body and looked into Satoru's eyes, he could feel the vulnerability in your gaze, something he had rarely seen in you. He carefully caressed your cheek, trying to give you warmth and security.

“I used to work at his bar, after working at the store.” You continued. “It was bad…” You whispered.

Satoru watched and swallowed, thinking about the possibilities you had to face with that bastard. “Birdie…”

“I used to have panic attacks before going there.” A broken chuckle escaped your lips. “But I kept on going, because the salary was not bad and I needed the money.”

You felt silent, with your breath still unstable and your face buried on Satoru’s chest. You probably could feel his heart beating fastly on his chest, he wanted to calm himself not to distress you but he couldn’t, not when you were telling him that.

“Back at the club where we went, I met him.” You paused. “I was with Shoko and then Yuki came, so nothing happened.”

Then something on Satoru clicked. “It was him.” It wasn’t a question, it was an affirmation and you just hummed. “Birdie…” Satoru's voice shook, your nickname coming out in a thin voice from his throat. “Did he… did he ever put his hand on you?”

You stayed silent, just squeezed his shirt and breathed deeply. “He tried…” Satoru at that moment saw red and his only thought was to get out of that car and return to the gala to beat up the Zenin's posh kid. “But nothing happened, a client came in and… well he stopped, but his disgusting behavior and sexual harassment never stopped.”

“I'm so sorry…” Satoru whispered against your hair. You shook your head.

“It's not your fault, you are an angel, 'Toru.” Satoru kissed your hair and caressed your back.

“You want to tell me what happened tonight at the party?” Satoru pulled away from you and you finally looked at him, your eye makeup was smudged and your nose was slightly red as were your eyes.

“Can we go home first?” You asked, looking into his blue eyes.

“Sure…” He whispered, leaving a kiss on the corner of your lips.

— comment if you want to be tagged

🏷️: @lavender-hvze , @crybabytoru , @sanriosatoru , @norvacaine , @sadmonke , @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic , @gojoful , @kitzusune , @sh0jun , @manyno , @ropickle , @anniegojo , @milk3evee , @crunchypotatoooooooooo , @catobsessedlady , @zoeyflower , @starlostwish , @tinydonkeysforlife , @mimisq11341 , @n1vi , @olanii1019 , @vtrulvamp , @yjuisu

[lavendercharm]

Linger, Chapter 3: STFU!

Summary: From the moment you meet her, you can't stand Melissa Schemmenti.

Warnings: VERY Strong Language

----

The next hour flies by as you continue your mission of organizing and decluttering the classroom. You organize stacks of finished worksheets and separate them between their respective grades; group crayons, markers, and pencils by color; and even refill Melissa’s stapler with your own staples, which you feel is generous. In between trips to the trash and recycling bins across the room, you occasionally glance at the half eaten lasagna sitting on your desk. You feel like it’s mocking you, but you can’t bring yourself to throw away one of the most delicious things you’ve ever eaten. Maybe once you’ve extended an olive branch, you’ll be able to enjoy it again.

By the time Melissa returns, you’re nearly done. She finds you surrounded by piles of dead dry-erase markers and empty glue sticks. You’re so invested, you don’t notice her entering the room until her voice startles you, nearly causing you to drop the markers in your hand. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” She demands. 

You try to muster a friendly smile as you turn around, but you’re certain it looks as forced as it feels. You’re surprised to see her alone. “You don’t have the kids with you,” you point out lamely.

“Educator of the year over here with these observational skills,” she snarks. “Other teachers have recess duty. What the hell are you doin’ with my markers?” 

You glance down at the markers clutched in your hand and say, “Oh, I uh… I noticed the room was messy when the kids left, and the cupboards were kind of cluttered, so I was going through them.“

“What, my room isn’t pristine enough for you?” she asks mockingly, folding her arms and leaning on one hip.

You close your eyes briefly and remind yourself that you’re trying to fix things, not make them worse, before opening them again and replying evenly, “No, I just mean that it makes sense with how much you have on your plate-“

“So you’re sayin’ I’m messy and incapable of doing my job?” 

“Stop!” You interject quickly, putting up your hands to placate her. “I’m not trying to insult you! I just wanted to help. A bunch of this stuff was broken or unusable, it was just taking up space so I threw some stuff out-”

“You what?” Her voice has a sharp edge to it. Your hopes for gaining ground with her are out the window - it seems like Melissa is looking for any reason she can find to start a fight with you. 

“I threw some things away,” you manage, your own temper starting to rise. “I don’t see what you’re getting so worked up about.”

She steps toward you, pointing a finger assertively. “You took it upon yourself to go through my classroom supplies and throw things away without asking me. Do you have any idea how expensive new school supplies are?”

“This isn’t my first year in a classroom!” you protest.

“Well, I don’t know what fancy private schools you must have come from to think supplies grow on trees, but it’s your first day at Abbott. We can’t just turn around and buy new stuff whenever we want!” 

“That stuff wasn’t usable! It was junk!” You exclaim. 

“And how will I explain to my kids why half their school supplies are gone now? How entitled can someone be?” she says scathingly.

“God, what’s wrong with you that you call someone trying to help you entitled ,” you spit out. You hear her scoff as you turn your back on her and start gathering the piles of dead markers. You throw them, along with the empty glue sticks, into a container.

“Oh please! What else do you call someone who thinks they can do whatever they want? Goin’ through my stuff without askin’, not to mention strollin’ in late-”

“It was an accident!” You burst out, rounding on her. “God forbid I mess up!”  You bark out a scornful laugh. “You say I’m entitled, have you met yourself ? You think you can walk all over me just because I’m new here and I made a mistake! Hey, since we’re sharing, you’re the most stubborn goddamn woman I’ve ever met! You can’t go two seconds without criticizing something or giving your unwanted opinion. Have you ever thought about taping your big mouth shut?” You deride as you snatch up the bin under one arm and begin to stalk past her toward the trash.

She steps into your path and you nearly collide with her. You look up to meet her fiery gaze, refusing to back down, and as you do, something stirs in your lower belly. You feel your muscles tense, ready for… what, you’re not sure. Her heeled boots give her a fraction of a height advantage over you, so you have to look up slightly. Your faces are inches apart as she stares daggers into your eyes, both of your breaths heavy from frustration and mixing in the air. Her cheeks are flushed and her hazel-green eyes are vivid, and your eyes flit down to steal a glance at her rosy lips for the briefest of moments, before you wrench them back up to her gaze. As your eyes return to hers, she opens her mouth to speak, but something catches her eye, cutting whatever she was going to say short. 

Her brows come together in confusion as she tears her eyes from yours and your heart sinks to your stomach. She saw your gaze drift, she had to have noticed it and that’s why she looks so confused. You’re not sure how to explain it yourself - your eyes were simply wondering, your nerves are frayed, you aren’t in the right headspace. Her face grows even more red, and you brace yourself to be verbally eviscerated as her mouth opens once more. What comes out takes you so off guard that you momentarily forget yourself and the situation you’re in.

“Where did you get that?” she whispers coldly. Her gaze is fixed over your shoulder. 

“Wha- what?” You stutter out, blinking quickly to try and comprehend the sudden, unrelated question.

Her eyes return to you, and you see a fury unmatched by anything she had displayed so far. It’s the first moment you know, without a doubt, that Melissa Schemmenti is someone you should be scared of. She repeats her question in a deadly low voice, biting out the words harshly. “Where. Did. You. Get. That?” Out of your peripheral vision, you see her point to something behind you.

Mustering all of the courage in your body, you look away from the lion that has your head in its jaws and search for what has condemned you to your untimely death. Sitting on your desk, alone and forgotten, is the half eaten slice of lasagna Janine had brought you for lunch. It takes your brain a moment to parse out why Melissa is so infuriated, but you quickly realize what conclusion she’s jumped to.

“Melissa-” you meekly squeak out before the dam breaks and her wrath is unleashed on you in full.

“Keep my first name out of your fuckin’ mouth you self-absorbed rat,” she snarls. “I knew you were selfish and inconsiderate, but I didn’t peg you for a thief. Stealing lunches? How dare you? ” She’s positively foaming at the mouth, and every ounce of anger that made you bold is gone. In its place is a gut-wrenching panic. You feel your heart hammering against your rib-cage and she continues to tear into you. “I knew I didn’t like you for a reason. You waltz in here on your high horse and think you can just do whatever you want. News flash puttana, Abbott doesn’t need you and I certainly don’t need you. You’re not worth the air you’ve been takin’ up in here. All you’ve done is ruin my goddamn day,” she seethes, pausing briefly before exclaiming, “And you’ve got me using salty language at school! The best thing youse could ever hope to do for these kids and me? Get the hell out of my classroom.”

You’re absolutely mortified, the words you’d meant to use to defend yourself evading you. You know it doesn’t matter - nothing you say will convince her. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You dig deep within yourself, trying to grasp some semblance of dignity as you finally break free of her hateful glare. “Fine,” you muster. You back away from her and move to your desk, quickly gathering your meager belongings and shoving them back into your bag. You keep as much distance from the lasagna as you can, too beaten down to even acknowledge its presence. 

Once your things are gathered, you make your way towards the door. But some thought in the back of your mind gives you pause. You don’t want to go out like this, with your tail between your legs. You don’t want to let this vitriolic woman have the final say. Glancing up, you see Melissa has busied herself with something at her desk, having apparently already written you off. Hesitating, you steel yourself and say, “You know? I’m not so sure your aide has appendicitis. I bet it was an excuse so she didn’t have to work with a judgemental bitch like you.” 

Her head shoots up in a flash of red - you hear an intake of breath and catch sight of her mouth opening - but you’re in the hallway before she can respond, slamming her classroom door a little too hard behind you.

—--------------

“What the hell do you mean you got into a fight with Melissa!?” Ava exclaims across from her desk at you. You sit on the other side of her, feeling more like a student being disciplined than a grown professional reporting to their boss. When you’d arrived, Ava had made you wait outside of her office while she finished an episode of “FBoy Island”. This gave you more than enough time to process what had happened, and the shame nearly overwhelmed you. Never in your life had you lashed out at a colleague like that, especially after having known them for less than 24 hours. 

Expecting to be scolded and fired, you’re surprised when Ava’s next words are, “You could have at least called me girl! My fans would kill to see Melissa in a fight! Although I guess she’s not good like she says, ‘cause you ain’t got a scratch on you. I’m disappointed she didn’t break out her bat,” she mumbles dejectedly. 

You don’t even know where to begin responding to that, so you settle on, “We didn’t fight fight, just said some really nasty things to each other. Also, I don’t have your phone number, so… I actually couldn’t call you.” 

“Oh!” Ava says as if she’s surprised. “Well, we gotta fix that, give me your number so you can tell me next time!”

“There’s not going to be a next time,” you mutter sourly.

“Oh damn, are you quitting?” she replies in a disappointed voice. “You seemed kinda cool standing up to Melissa this morning, I thought for sure you’d last longer than a day.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Uh, no… I mean, I don’t want to quit… well, I kind of do, but then she’d win,” you grumble. “I just thought you’d… I mean, I got into a huge fight with one of Abbott’s most tenured teachers. I thought for sure you’d want to fire me.”

“Fire you?” Ava says incredulously. “This is the most excitement this place has seen in a minute. If you stick around, we could start a teacher fight club!” She shoots you an award winning smile and you can’t help the quirk of your lips at her joke. At least, you think it’s a joke… probably. Ava leans forward, putting on her principal voice as she says, “Look, you’re the first sub we’ve been able to get since the school year started. On top of that, your references and work history make it seem like you’re actually a good teacher.” You give her an incredulous look, because everything you’ve learned about Ava doesn’t point to her ever actually doing her job.

“What?” she says defensively. “I do my research! I’m not gonna let just anybody walk on in here! I don’t need another stalker.” Before you can say anything to that, she barges on. “Listen, you can do whatever you want, but I’m not gonna fire you. Abbott needs you.” Her words, a direct opposition to what Melissa had said to you not even two hours before, warm your heart. You feel tears welling in your eyes, unable to hold them off completely no matter how much you try.

“Ew, don’t start crying,” Ava says, wrinkling her face up. “Or else I will fire you.” 

You can’t help the laugh that bursts out of you, and you catch a self-satisfied smirk on Ava’s face.

“Okay,” you say, wiping your eyes with a smile. “I’ll stay. I’m sure I can avoid Melissa as long as you put me on the opposite end of the school.” 

Your smile drops, though, as Ava says, “Girl, you’re still gonna be in Melissa’s class.” 

“What?” you ask, anxiety beginning to creep into your chest. “Can’t you put me in another room?” 

“Sure, there might be other rooms you could help in, but right now the only person out sick is Ashley,” Ava says flippantly. “And Melissa’s class has the biggest need for a sub, seeing as she’s teaching two grades n’ all.” 

“There has to be something else I can do,” you mutter desperately. 

“Right now, your options are to stick with Melissa’s class, or wait until someone’s out sick. But there’s no guarantee teachers will call out and I dunno about you, but I have bills to pay,” she explains dismissively, and you know the conversation is nearing its end as she turns her attention to her phone. 

You sit there and weigh your options. The last thing you want to do is have to return to Melissa’s classroom and face her again. As much as the kids in her class started to grow on you after just a few hours, this was the worst day you’d had in your entire professional career. And it was entirely due to Melissa Schemmenti. Plus, there was no telling how she’d react to you walking back into her room. Still, Ava had a point: if you weren’t subbing, you weren’t being paid. Your money situation was pretty dire. You needed this job. 

You exhale loudly, before uttering, “Okay. I’ll be back to join Melissa’s class tomorrow. On time,” you add hastily.

“Great!” Ava says, shooting you a smile over the top of her phone. You glance at the clock, seeing it was already nearly the end of the school day, so you wouldn’t be missing much by leaving a bit early. As you get up to leave, Ava says, “Wait!”

You stop in your tracks and turn to her expectantly. 

“Lemme give you my phone number so I can live stream when you and Melissa fight again!”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, and add her to your contacts.

—----------------------

When you make your way out to your car, you feel the weight of the day fully settle on your shoulders. ‘What a mess,’ you think to yourself. Even still, you try to find some resolve. You’re going to need it if you plan to weather Hurricane Schemmenti. 

You come up to your car, which is parked in one of the few visitor’s spots. Your head is down while you dig in your bag for your keys. As you step in front of your car, you feel something crunch beneath your shoe. Frowning, you shift your focus to the pavement. Small, clear granules shimmer in the afternoon sunlight. As you examine more, you see larger shards scattered about. Your jaw clenches as your eyes travel up, up… to the headlights on your car, both of which have been smashed out. 

You stare at the destruction before you, and slowly, a dark feeling starts to fill you. Your pulse pounds in your ears as your teeth grind together, and you start to see red in the corners of your vision. You clutch your keys in a vice grip. You want to hit something, or someone. Of course, you don’t have any proof as to who did this. But you know. And as the dark feeling inside of you grows and grows, you’re already beginning to formulate your revenge. 

‘Okay Schemmenti.  This is war.’

[lilac-5ky]

Roommates from Hell, pt.4 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 4: Jungle Schlong

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests

A/N: Commentary at the end because I think I'm funny.

Warning: Without spoiling a thing: porn, IKEA and angst.

Out of the many survival skills people who live alone develop during their self-imposed period of solitude, the ability to share a flat —and by extension, its features— is not among them. For example, while you knew exactly how many sips it takes to empty the milk bottle, you didn’t account for Toji’s intake being twice your own. It took multiple shakes and peeps through the hole for you to reach the shocking conclusion that you were indeed out of milk and hurried to announce it with pompousness second only to an anchorwoman’s.

Breaking news! Manslaughter at the center of Shibuya: 18 dead and 37 missing— and Y/N’s fridge is devoid of milk! Well, not exactly phrased like that, though Toji’s reaction rivaled that of a disinterested viewer’s zapping to the next channel.

Apathy. And it suited him so well; speckles of fury shimmering in his darkened eyes like residues of a stubbed cigarette whenever they happened to cross with yours. You preferred him when he lashed out. At least then you could lock horns and get it out of your system, but he’d been the same since last night. Cold-shouldering your every inquisition, and if an answer was required, then it was curt and gruff like the rest of him.

The only thing his stoic expression eagerly rubbed in was how he didn’t give a damn whether you had an ounce of milk to drench your already-poured cereal with, a place to sit and eat, or even warm water to shower with. And normally, he’d be out the door searching for the next woman (read: victim) to leech from, but today he valued his word. He’d take you shopping and use it against you for some extra petty points whenever he decided to throw his tantrum.

The drive wasn’t any more enjoyable than breakfast. Your attempt to turn on the radio was slapped away, while your dissing a woman who’d stopped the entire traffic to fix her eyeliner in the rear-view mirror of her shit-colored Datsun fell on deaf ears. That one hurt the most. Humoring idiots together was your thing.

Traitor. Although you both knew who the real traitor was, and that was why you willfully took the punishment, biting back any back-handed comment and half-assed apology your tongue mustered. Not that he’d accept one in verbal form anyway; oral was more like it.

You kept your mouth zipped until he pulled over at IKEA’s parking lot, his hands glued to the wheel and the gear lever even after you’d stepped out of the vehicle.

“Aren’t you coming?” You questioned and he finally spared you a look that was more mischievous than contemptuous, a smirk trembling at the end of his scar.

“Said I’d drive ya, not that I’d stick around.” His left hand jerked the gear downward. “You pay for what you get. If you want my services, better pay upfront.”

Your bag’s straps creased under your fingernails. This was where you drew the line.

“We came here to get furniture for your ass to fit in, and you tell me you wanna bail?”

“Missed the part where I said I needed shit,” Toji shrugged. “Your house, your rules, right? Your furniture, too. Don’t involve me.”

Your nostrils flared in response. “Fine! I’ll do it myself, don’t need your sulking ass raining on my parade. Pretty sure they sell dog houses your size, and—” You switched to yelling as he stepped on the pedal, “forget about gas money ‘cause you ain’t getting shit, you hear me? Hope you get a flat tire and lose your way, fucking—”

And just like that, he was gone. Fuck. And you’d just ridiculed yourself in front of every onlooker that involuntarily eavesdropped on your crude spiel without witnessing the full scene of your unjust abandonment. Even bigger fuck.

You lowered your head and dragged your feet toward the store’s revolving door, where a little girl who’d made a game out of the doors bestowed you a genuine smile— of sympathy, you hoped.

Since Toji lacked the courtesy to let you use the bathroom before towing you all the way to his car, you were still in your homewear, tan sweatpants and all. “Disheveled” didn’t even begin to describe the frantic state of your hair. The person inside the glass had the deranged appeal of someone who’d jumped into a hornet’s nest with some seriously angry wasps, each strand attached pointing in a different direction.

However, credit where credit’s due. You’d done well to bring your trusty shades. They hid both your dark circles and bloodshot-from-all-the-crying eyes while giving off some of that washed-out rock star air you desperately needed to feel somewhat human.

You pulled the hoodie over your head and fastened the knot below your chin. You gave your door-riding companion a practiced smile and asked if her parents knew her whereabouts, like the exemplary adult you were.

She pointed at a couple near the gift-wrapping section. Her spitting image in high heels and a strict pencil skirt held onto a vase that a scrawny man in a duffle jacket—the father, you assumed— helped wrap in decorative paper. A bit late for Christmas gifts, isn’t it? Neither seemed to worry that their little angel was talking to a stranger, so you took it upon yourself to warn her, tucking a golden curl behind her ear and ushering her to their side.

As expected of a preschooler, she grimaced in defiance and tried to extort you from a soft serve, but ultimately agreed to lock pinkies and promised to return after one final ride.

The doors aligned, and you stepped out, walking slowly enough to watch the girl be scooped into her dad’s embrace, her tiny arms looping around his neck while he pressed a kiss on her forehead. Her mom set the vase on the counter to rub her back, a goofy smile contorting her otherwise sharp features.

Sorrow withered like a flower of decay in your heart, the display turning into thorns the longer you perceived it. Not now. Not again.

You tore your eyes away and headed further in, beelining straight to the supply rack by the escalator. You grabbed a yellow tote bag and stuffed it with the usual suspects —a map of the store, a paper measuring tape, a couple of shopping forms, and a miniature pencil— before drifting to the second floor.

The first area of the tremendously vast showroom displayed everything from 4-seat sofas with installed chaise lounges to hand-woven rattan footstools and miscellaneous decorative pieces such as faux antler horns and brazen candlesticks. Every living room was carefully considered and well put together, attracting the appropriate demographics.

Frilled cushions and fairy lights for the young romantics; futuristic ceiling lamps in curious shapes and slick TV benches for a breath of novelty in your space; functionality over flashiness in rooms with spacious cabinets and railway-sized couches to accommodate those who couldn’t keep it in their pants and birthed a horde of happy-go-lucky squirts; warm textiles for a cozy atmosphere; cooler hues for a more urban style. A plethora of choices meant to daze and bedazzle the stingiest shopper into buying not what they needed but what they wanted at an affordable price.

A true celebration of capitalism.

You paced around the rooms, mindlessly picking on random objects and price tags, working quick math in your brain for items that would be forgotten as soon as you entered the next scenery of artificial palm trees and sand-filled wooden tiki bowls. Perfect for beach lovers, the sign said, though you couldn’t fathom the tackiness of a man with a hammock amidst his living room.

Unable to beat your childish urge to ascertain whether the sand was real, you dipped your hand in one of the bowls and glanced over your shoulder just in case you were busted—you weren’t. And it wasn’t.

Your interest was extinguished, only to be rekindled by the golden sheen of a picture frame that stood remarkably plain between two spiral seashells on a wall-mounted shelf behind the aforementioned hammock. Normally, frames either sported an image of some stupid logo that wrote “Love” or “Happiness”, or encased a placeholder picture for the owners to replace at a later date. But this one was vacant. Naked. Forgotten.

You didn’t have any frames in your house. Didn’t need any. All remnants of the past were safely tucked inside an old shoe box below your bed —memories you occasionally fished out but mostly wished to forget. All, except one. A token from your graduation that you always kept inside your bag as precious memorabilia, not of the event itself but of the man whose arm lazily slung over your shoulders and of the smile that stretched from the western tip of his scar to the eastern end of your grin.

You’d rather be mugged off every worldly possession, even your mother’s handwritten cookbooks, than part ways with this picture. That’s why you never let it off your eyes and never properly framed it, though looking at the empty frame, something finally clicked.

You pulled out the picture and unscrewed the safety clips, fitting it around the edges, and then locked it in place.

Your thumb brushed over Toji’s face as gently as if it were his actual cheek you touched, and last night’s fiasco began accelerating with the momentum of a three-foot boulder that wrecked everything in its passage. Frustration stirred your insides, urging the coarse cereal to spill out your guts and paint the baby-blue mat a dubious streak of remorse. You wondered what color that’d be. Nothing pleasant to look at, for sure.

With a sigh, you brought the picture closer to your lips and whispered, “I’ll say this once and only once, so better stop giving me that smug look. I’m sor—”

“That bored without me you talk to lifeless objects now?”

The gravelly voice flowing not from the frame but from the person behind you made you nearly knock the entire shelf to the ground. This habit of his was getting old real quick.

“Is scaring people your hobby, or do you get paid for it?” You leered at him, slyly stuffing the frame in your tote bag, confident he hadn’t gotten a proper peek.

“If only,” Toji smirked. “Could make a fortune out of you alone.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed the tote bag over your free shoulder, progressively scanning the parts of his body you didn’t want to slot a pacifier in. He was holding onto a paper cup, the keyword being “a” as in singular and not plural. As in one, and not two. As in, he got fresh coffee from the machine at the entrance for himself, but not for you.

Jerk.

“Couldn’t keep a dime if it was glued to your forehead with super glue,” you huffed.

His free hand reached your face, fiddling with the laces of your hoodie. “Kept you all these years, didn’t I?” voice dropped an octave. “My goldmine.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being flirty or simply condescending; his thin eyebrows bearing hints of annoyance in how they furrowed, as opposed to the curl in his lips that almost seemed amiable. You didn’t reciprocate either sentiment. Instead, “Thought you said you weren’t coming.”

“Changed my mind,” his eyelashes fluttered heavily over his cheeks. “Didn’t want to leave you all alone to carry that shit. Wouldn’t sit right with me.”

You questioned whether the Toji in front of you was the real deal or a stand-in for his otherwise “no can do unless I’m paid” self. Unless…

“You ran out of gas, didn’t you?”

The smile dropped from his face and rose to yours as he took a step back, his tail between his legs. He drained the coffee in one sip and squashed the cup in his fist, flicking it at the bin closest to him without caring that it was part of the exhibit.

The words swirled in his mouth, bitter, and taut, and doused in caffeine. “You have my money.”

“My money,” you corrected. “You said I could keep it.”

“I did?” Toji asked, confirming it a second later. “I suppose I did. I take it back. Give it back.”

His palm unfolded in your direction, fingers beckoning you to react, which you did, though not in the way he’d hoped.

“What do you think y’are doing?” Jaded green eyes entered a game of ping pong between the items you’d shoved in his hand and your undeniably cheeky expression.

“You are so right. I’m bored out of my mind when you’re not around, but now that you are here, I feel sooo much better!”

Toji arched a brow at your admission, not convinced in the slightest.

“I’ll give you some of the money back,” and this was the kind of sentence that seldom went without a but. “But you have to stay and help.”

His mouth opened to express disagreement, which soon turned into acquiescence.

“I’ll buy you soft serve after.”

“Deal.”

The two of you wandered around the labyrinth of lamps and sofas with a different gait each; yours were quick steps full of determination and moderate excitement, stamping individual items and running after them, while Toji’s were long-drawn strides with no real purpose other than to follow the thread you dropped behind in hopes of it leading to an exit. You presented one object after the other, weighing the pros and cons he didn’t care to consider, merely jotting down the unpronounceable Swedish names and their corresponding codes.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t have much of an opinion regarding his lodgings. He claimed he could sleep anywhere but was visibly vexed when you pointed at an adorable bone-shaped dog bed, gritting his teeth and saying that your bed could fit you both just fine if you weren’t such a “little bitch” about it.

Only when you got to the rooms with very particular and niche equipment did his disinterest fade, giving way to disbelief at how anyone could ever think to create something as useless as an egg yolk separator or vegetable cutting gadgets that a single knife could easily replace. He wasn’t wrong about that, but he was dead wrong to assume you were letting him bring a Cookie Monster-esque atrocity of dyed sheepskin back into the apartment. Or a portable charcoal grill for that matter. Or a bike trailer when you couldn’t even bike.

“Are ya dumb? Biking isn’t knowing, it’s doin’,” he’d said.

A side-eye was typically enough for him to return them to their places, but when it came down to his peak fascination with a voice-activated toilet flush, things got excruciatingly hard. He insisted on calling it a worthwhile investment when he’d previously dubbed your portable drawer unit a waste of cash. If it weren’t for the three extra zeroes at the end of its crumpled price tag, he would still be there tossing rocks just to hear the toilet praise the size of his dung.

You each made an exception for the other to buy one non-pivotal item, as long as it didn’t exceed 3000 yen. He got himself a neck pillow. You got a ghost night light that apparently looked nothing like curses, much to your disappointment, and while his attention was diverted, you shoved another in the bag to give him as a welcoming gift, hoping the cuteness of the green, chubby ghost would help bury the hatchet.

Eventually, you plopped down at a dining table in a room obscured by the shop’s many corners, Toji on the head and you on the foot, as if you were holding an official conference. You went over the shopping forms together, but coming to a decision when neither was remotely capable of pronouncing the names proved a challenge. And while each butchered the language in your own irreverent way, you were the first to break into chuckles, finding Toji’s heartfelt conviction that Frihetten and Fry Hatred were one and the same positively endearing.

Flustered, he threatened to break your bones into furniture, but not even he could take himself seriously anymore when his answer to the question “What would you name me?” was “The Stupenbraten”.

The mood lightened, and after some necessary discourse, you decided upon a gray sleeper sofa to replace your current couch and a chair from the same set you had in your kitchen, as well as some covers for the remaining winter nights. All was well again; aside from the total cost exceeding the initial budget by a few hundred yen.

You were back to square one, though a new plan became apparent faster than anticipated. A plan wearing twin pigtails and a smile straight out of a toothpaste commercial that resiliently lurked wherever the two of you went. A plan who fidgeted with the name tag on the left side of her canary-colored shirt a bit too much, her knees wobbly under her tight-fitted navy jeans. A plan too naive for her own good.

At first, you assumed she’d received a report for the terrorist-looking female in the orange hoodie who double-checked the price of each individual plate in the service, but then you put more effort into deciphering her alert eyes and concluded that the target she was ogling was none other than your partner in crime.

He who, although dressed identically to you, stood out among the regular customers like a celebrity that’d failed to mingle with the crowd at their own premiere, a dandelion among a field of dried weeds, or even a conch amidst a sea of pebbles; out of place and infinitely extraordinary; easy to miss and hard to notice, but when you do, there’s no taking your eyes off it.

The employee tracked you down as if her career depended on it, infatuated with the mere idea that a man like Toji could give her attention, and when he actually did under your direction, the plot began writing itself:

Straight out of a Wong Kar-wai movie, the dark and brooding, albeit confident, male lead slowly enters the hesitant female lead’s orbit. He hangs around the information desk, where she pretends to work, and flips through the pamphlets with faux interest. He lets her study him up close and plants an idea in her head, convincing her the first move is hers to make—that she’s in charge.

Her head lifts up, and their furtive glances catch fire. He bows forward, and his lips move without making a sound, a joke only for her ears to assess. And it must be terribly funny because she is laughing, and with her, the whole world beams, with sequences of time-elapsed blurs and filtered close-ups spurring everyone into the mood for love.

That’s a true pro for you.

You stayed until you saw them exchange papers. It’d only been five minutes, and they were already plotting their next tryst away from the prying eyes of the audience and the mastermind behind their affair. Admittedly, this was neither your best nor proudest moment, but if conning an impressionable sweetheart out of a minor discount was your ticket to hell, then you’d better go ahead and save yourselves front-row seats.

For the time being, you left Toji to his own devices and leisurely padded along the corridors, finding yourself a sanctuary in a room where the sounds muffled into ambient sound and the colors bled into shades of chaste white that dribbled from the ceiling to the king-sized bed in the middle. You dropped your bags on the bed stool and fell back against the polyester duvet, limbs stretching across all four corners to create idle snow angels.

You glimpsed at the price that neared half a million yen and wondered what kind of people could afford a bed like this. Was it old money who lived in luxurious mansions with fourteen bedrooms and twice as many servants to tend to them, or a young couple with too much love to spare? Did it belong to a loft that overlooked the city, or was its place on the outskirts of the countryside? How many surprise breakfasts could it host, and how many kids could bounce against the planks to wake up their weary parents before the springs broke?

Could a bed like this ever be yours?

“People who fuck for a living, obviously.”

Rings of saturated smoke poured out of Toji’s lips as he lit up his cigarette and took his first real puff of disappointment. He’d hoped that after popping two and a half bottles of overpriced carbonated piss, smoking ought to at least rouse a tingle, but he’d only managed to further soil his mouth with more filth.

“Want that?” he asked, despite stubbing it in the ashtray. With the amount of alcohol you’d downed, you’d probably let him put it out on your tongue without objection.

You tracked the movements of his fingers, inevitably following them to where the dark spirals of his hotel-provided yukata met with the creamy complexion of his sculpted thighs, elbow propped against his one knee, and wrist dangling freely in the gap between his legs. He was still on his back, his tousled raven hair having spilled over the pillow, and the ebony fabric fitting tight around the bulge of muscles, leaving only his pecs completely exposed.

A sight for sore eyes and those with the hunger to eat it up, while you tried your hardest not to gawk, directing your attention anywhere that wasn’t him, such as the baroque chandelier on the ceiling, the plasma screen on the opposing wall, the leftover beluga caviar and Dom Pérignon on the service trolley, or even your own legs dressed in the same piece of clothing.

The two of you painted quite a sinful image: a girl barely of age and a boy slightly above sharing a bed the size of your house at one of the country’s top-rated hotels, your clothes scattered around the floor like some perverse artistic signature. How cliche, but every cliche comes with an “It’s not what it looks like”.

You received the message on your beeper a few blocks away from school at an unoccupied payphone; Toji’s voice requesting help on the other side of the line. He didn’t specify anything other than his location and seemed particularly elated to find you at his suite’s doorstep fifteen minutes later with your heart in your mouth. At that point, he’d already jumped in his yukata, sporting a pair of fluffy gray slippers and a sardonic smile that widened at the sight of your summer uniform.

Alcohol blurred your memories quite a bit. You couldn’t remember why you’d changed out of your uniform, but were certain it had something to do with his indecent commentary. Not that the yukata covered more skin, but it did feel smooth against your body.

You quickly realized that Toji was neither in danger nor in dire need of help. He’d just received his biggest paycheck to date and wanted someone to burn the money with, and as much as he hesitated to admit it, your phone was the only number engraved in his memory outside his handler’s.

In retrospect, your evening felt more like a fever dream than a real one. You ordered every exorbitant French specialty off the menu, drank through the contents of the minibar, and flipped through the various cable channels, paying thousands of yen for movies you lacked the attention span to finish.

You were so out of it. You dismissed the crude answer he’d given to your question for the sake of recounting events that hadn’t aged past six hours.

A subtle hue of red bloomed across your cheeks, dipping lower down your chest to sheathe in the pit of your stomach as liquid fire. The feeling itself wasn’t unpleasant; simply unprecedented. This was your first time drinking, and in all honesty, you could do fine without being reminded every three seconds —the exact interval between your glances— of how well he wore the traditional attire.

“So it wasn’t just an urban legend, huh?” Toji mumbled to himself, fumbling with the buttons on the remote until he landed on a channel that piqued his interest.

“Hey, wanna watch some porn?” The second question was definitely meant for you, his hand ghosting over your eyes as if to snap you from whatever trance had absorbed your conscience.

You blinked in surprise, eyes dancing between the numerous naked ladies that flaunted their assets in provocative stances and Toji’s serious expression while he eagerly awaited a response.

“Uhm… sure?” You asked him back, clearing your throat of any doubt, and then repeated the same word.

He gave a tiny smile and scrolled through ridiculous titles named after popular American movies, such as “Pulp Friction”, “Cum-busters”, “In Diana Jones”, and your personal favorite of the bunch, “Yank My Doodle, It’s a Dandy!”.

“Probably nothin’ too extreme, right?” You mindlessly nodded. “A’right, gotcha.”

While you stacked up the pillows behind your neck, Toji clicked a few more buttons, and eventually, a movie began playing, starting with a picket fence house in the suburbs and a jolly housewife who awaited something on the door. The “something” revealed itself to be a “someone”— a pizza guy, more specifically, on whose pizza both Toji and you placed bets.

“Pay up,” he grinned when the man announced it was a pepperoni one, only to grunt after the pizza box fell completely empty to the floor. A directorial oversight.

The man proceeded to make out with the housewife in front of her house’s doorway, backsteps bringing the scene into the kitchen, where the woman removed her apron to expose her —surprise, surprise— naked body underneath. She sat the man on a chair and kneeled before him, caressing the tent in his jeans and slowly tugging it down, she set his cock free.

A gulp disrupted your swallowing, your eyes zooming in as the woman’s hands wrapped around his dick and pumped it up and down with expertise his moans revealed. Your thighs clicked together in sync with your teeth, your mouth more parched than it’d been before you gobbled all that alcohol up.

Without being aware of it, you’d scooted closer to his side of the bed, almost curling against his arm. You stole a glimpse at him, his brow quirking at the sudden closeness. You pretended to watch the movie, and partially you did, although there was no ignoring Toji when your entire vision became that of uneven black strands.

“Are ya wet by any chance?” He smirked, eyes darting lower over your body, if only for a second.

“N-not sure, but I… really want to pee,” you admitted, causing his face to crack into a fond simper. “Been that way since the champagne—” you tried to explain, and you tried to hide your colored shame in the crook of your neck, but he wouldn’t let you do either.

“No need to be embarrassed,” Toji said in a reassuring voice that begged to filter all bashfulness out of your system. “Still a virgin, mm? Well, there are other adult stuff we could try together. Other than drinking champagne, or” his hand rubbed against your outer thigh, “watching amateurs fuck,” fingers carefully squeezing their way in. “I bet we could do so much better than that.”

“Whaddya say, pretty girl?”

The rasp in his voice mellowed into a candied hum as he tilted his head to the side, and when he did, you didn’t move— not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t know how to without your inexperience showing or your heart betraying how much you’d longed for this moment to come, as his lips finally crashed against yours and you suddenly gained all the knowledge in the world.

You knew how to squeeze your eyes shut slowly enough to catch his green eyes fading past his heavy eyelashes along with the intensity behind them. You knew exactly how to move your mouth in accordance with his, letting your upper lip be sucked into the kind of warmth that could never be replicated—a warmth that was unique to Toji and the softness of his lips and the roughness of his palms—and that gradually seeped into your stream, flooding and then drowning all your senses until he was the only lifeline for you to grab onto to stay afloat.

He flipped you to your back and crawled on top of you, the bed dipping against the accumulation of weight while the kiss deepened. His tongue slipped into the wet cavern of your mouth, taking its time to explore the basis of every snarky remark and withheld affection meant for him. A soft, visceral sound was swallowed by a stifled groan as your hands clutched onto the fabric around his waist and pulled him closer, your hips abruptly snapping upward.

You weren’t thinking until Toji gave you permission to, the string of saliva that united your mouths now tearing you apart. His tongue swiped over his dampened scar, hooded eyes zeroing in on the pink ribbon at the center of your bra’s band as the friction caused the cups to spill out of your kimono. The sounds in the background were barely audible over the sound of your panting as he took hold of your breast and firmly palmed it over the fabric.

“Feel any different now?” The hand on your thigh prodded at your stomach, even though he’d never stopped fondling your chest and still maintained a loose grip over your hip—

Oh.

You mustered enough courage to peer at where your bodies connected, finding a bulge akin to the one in the non-pizza-carrying pizza guy’s pants, albeit much bigger, more real, and definitely palpable, and although you were no busty hotwife, you’d made this happen.

Things were moving so fast; too fast, that your brain short-circuited between two contradictory notions, the first gathering as slick between your thighs, while the second argued this wasn’t something you should be doing—not something that friends should be doing.

But you liked Toji, and when he looked at you with raw desire burning in his eyes, you swore that you loved him.

“I really,” you croaked, rapidly losing composure under his fingertips unraveling your bare skin, his larger palm set on capturing as much of you as possible. “R-really,” you bit your lip before breaking into a literal yelp when he tried to tug off the strap. “Really, really, really need to pee!”

Without either of you entirely comprehending what happened, you slithered away from his grasp like an eel and bolted to the bathroom, locking yourself in with a loud “bam”, lest he push it open.

You looked in the mirror, confusing the image with that of a peeled tomato straight out of the can with how flushed and moist you appeared. Beads of sweat dripped from your forehead to your neck, and—God, his touch hardly qualified as groping, but nothing was in its place anymore; everything loose, disheveled, and so terribly lewd.

Reluctantly, you drove a hand between your thighs, coaxing a high-pitched gasp at the sheer amount of wetness drenching your underwear, an outcome entirely dependent on him. Toji. Toji, who’d given you your first kiss and who would have given you more— every last inch of him. Toji, who must’ve been laughing his ass off, cursing you, or doing both simultaneously.

Nothing could be done about the butterflies rummaging in your stomach, rabidly swarming your heart as if there were nectar at its core. You could only force yourself to sober up by throwing cold water on your face and carrying on with your “duties”, returning to the main room ten minutes after you’d perfected the most laid-back smile from your extensive collection of insincere expressions.

“Took ya long enough,” Toji exclaimed, a spoon sticking out of his mouth. “Thought you got flushed down the drain or somethin’.”

No such luck, you thought to yourself, sitting noticeably further away from where he dug through the remaining caviar. The porn was switched out, or paused—you couldn’t tell—with the hotel’s logo in cursive letters traversing one corner of the screen in favor of the other. And as for your previous reason for distress—

“Did you know they have Acqua Di Parma toiletries?” You panted more than asked, leaning closer to the tray to pinch a green olive between your fingers.

“It’s a French hotel, what did ya expect?” he shrugged.

“They are Italian.”

“Who cares?” He grimaced, dropping the spoon back into the crystal bowl. “Overpriced shit. Shoulda been 12 yen instead of 12k.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” you chuckled. “Plus, you are doing it all wrong. You shouldn’t chew, you should move the roe with your tongue until the flavor falls apart.”

Toji stared at you as if you belonged to an alien tribe that’d descended to earth on its way to world domination, his eyebrows creasing at the middle of his forehead. “Now you reveal you were raised as a silver spoon? Woulda been nicer to you if I knew.”

A short laugh cracked into a nasal snort, your hands cutting the air between you. “Not at all! It’s just, my father would make me tag along to some of his business soirees when I was a kid, and they always had the best food there. Well, not the best, but certainly the priciest shit an eight-year-old can put in their mouth.

“And what do you mean nicer?”

He hummed, washing the fishy taste from his mouth with some of his unfinished champagne. A regrettable choice, considering he’d forgotten how disgusting the alcohol felt on his tongue. He winced, “First time I hear ya talk about your family.”

“What? Can’t be true; I mention them all the time.”

“Mention,” he echoed. “Ain’t the same as talking.”

You wondered at what point your roles were reversed. He was the one who stubbornly refused to mention his folks, and up until a month ago, you didn’t even know what his last name was.

“There’s not much to talk about.” Your lips pursed around your glass while Toji insisted on drilling holes through your thick skull. He had no intention to drop this.

“I’ll tell you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s all boring, anyway. If you fall asleep—”

“Cut the intro.”

You bit back a comment and dug straight into the story.

“My dad started off in the textile industry. Used to run a small yarn company with a fellow classmate. They made it big for a while; branched out from Tokyo to Fukuoka and their rep grew nationally. Every clothing store in the country used their wares, and they must have thought ‘Hey, why not test our luck elsewhere?’— I wouldn’t know; I was too young.

“Thing is, when compared to Japan’s fish tank of a market, China is a whole damn ocean with man-eating sharks. Quality doesn’t cut it versus sweatshops, and it didn’t take long before they went bankrupt, closing their stores and losing all of their investments.

“Yamada-san flew to Korea, and they never talked again, while dad—he,” you paused, lifting the glass to your lips, champagne tasting like tar. “He drunk. All day long and all evening long, he drank himself unconscious on the couch, the carpet, and even the front door once. His excuse being that he couldn’t get himself a new job, that no one was hiring at the moment, and that damn moment lasted 5 whole years before he decided he’d had enough and slammed the door on us.”

“What about—”

“Mom?” You smiled habitually. “She was there. Down with one sickness or another, her symptoms varying from a simple cough to weeks of catatonia. It was as if whatever poison my father injected in his veins made it back to her, and with him gone and her in that state, I was the only one available to take care of the house. But it was fine, you know? As long as we were together, I was fine cleaning, cooking, and playing nurse.”

Silence stilled the room, somber at its best and deafening at its worst.

“Wanna know what the final straw that made him leave was?”

Toji didn’t answer, certain you’d go on regardless.

“Donburi.” A strained chuckle poured out of your lips; dark, hollow, and devoid of any ebullience. “Fucking donburi. She tried to cook him donburi for his birthday but couldn’t keep an eye on the stove ‘cause she got dizzy and the fish burned to a crisp. She served the rice and the vegetables, all intact, but the fish was missing and h-he… He broke the plate against the kotatsu and packed his things right after. That was the only time Mom talked back to him. She asked why, and you might think that’s pathetic, but—”

You rearranged your thoughts. “She asked him why, and all he said back was ‘Because she isn’t deadweight. Because she doesn’t smell like death. Because she doesn’t let the fish get toasted.’ That was the final thing he said the final time I saw him. Don’t even know if he’s dead or alive, and as for my mom… You know she’s not here anymore. Passed away three weeks after he bailed.

“And that’s my shitty life’s shitty story,” you concluded, consciously leaving out the part that linked your culinary cultivation and hopes for your father’s return.“Nothing interesting or fun about it. Just a big pile of shit piling on top of each other from the beginning to its ending.”

You were about to give yourself a refill when his fingers snared around your wrist. You locked eyes, your vision of him distorted as the green in his eyes overflew, his pointy nose, and the slanted scar of his lips trading places. He appeared like one of those Picasso cubism paintings from your art textbook, except his features were more beautiful than a human brain could ever perceive to draw, even in their disarray.

You let him return the champagne glass to the trolley while his fingers studied your face with the same curiosity your eyes studied his. You thought he was going to kiss you again, and maybe the notion crossed his mind too, but he must’ve decided against it, using his mouth to try and console you instead.

“Should’ve let me fuck you, stupid,” Toji mumbled, the pads of his thumbs repeatedly swiping below your eyes like windshields, his facial structure making sense once more. You’d lost track of how many sobs you’d kept bottled up until they started to hiccup out of your throat and wet his fingers.

I wish I’d let you fuck me.

“Lost your motivation?” Your voice was still unstable.

“Nah,” he shook his head. “Just don’t want your sappy face ruinin’ the mood. Can’t make ya cry under my dick if you’re already crying for someone else.”

Your reflection stirred in shades of green as you threw your head against his shoulder, laughing harder than you thought possible. He always came up with the worst things to say, and yet nothing could have comforted you more than the inner frustrations of a teenage boy in heat.

His hands dropped limp between your bodies, while yours looped his neck in a tight embrace. “Can’t believe you tricked me into sayin’ all that when I don’t know the first thing about your family.”

“Your folks are dead ‘cause they died. Mine been dead to me since birth.”

You propped your chin against your elbows. “What do you mean?”

“That I don’t have a family,” he said.

“You wouldn’t talk like that if you didn’t.”

“Then I don’t need one.”

“Don’t say that. If they’re still alive—”

“Then I’ll kill ‘em dead,” he hissed. “How’s that for an answer?”

Convinced that ought to shut you up, Toji planted his fingers at your ribs and attempted to detach you from his body with half-baked conviction, when your mouth opened again and you uttered the one thing he wasn’t prepared to hear—not on that day, nor in a million days either.

“What if I was your family?”

A complaint scratched his throat, his own words prickling his tongue before dissolving into a heavy sigh against his chest, one that served as your cue to continue.

“Even if we don’t need anyone—no, even if no one else needs us, how about we need each other just a little bit? I’ll need you, and you’ll need me. So let’s be family, Toji.”

He remained deep in his thoughts for a long while, unknowingly kneading your sides as if you were a life-sized stress ball meant to relieve his tension. You couldn’t read him. Not from that angle or any other, for that matter. He wouldn’t let you. He didn’t want you prying at a side of him so pathetically ugly and insecure that not even he had the guts to stand up to.

And so he took his time waiting, testing the waters with every combination of verbs and articles already tried out. Words that’d earned his face red smacks and gotten his hair soaked in all types of beverages—not excluding the hot kind. He’d fill you in on the terrible, horrible things he’d done to deserve hatred, give you a glimpse at the true nature of an abomination, as his parents endearingly called him, and if that wasn’t enough, he’d show you. Overpowering a fragile little thing was nothing. He’d force himself on you, squeeze you for all your body’s worth, and then toss you aside like a squeezed lemon cup.

It was that easy, really, but the longer he let the words fester, the keener he found himself to plug the holes in his ego with a more permanent solution.

“Y’are throwing yourself into a bigger pile of shit, know that?”

You held onto a chuckle, unaware of the effort poured into his statement, while you lightly toyed with the frayed edges of his hair. “Used to the stench. Besides, stepping on shit is said to bring you luck, no?”

By the time you pulled away, an intimidating frown was etched deep into his features, his expression similar to that of a cat being hugged against its will. It didn’t take long for the two of you to nest back into the pillows (with one acting as a partition), share a pepperoni pizza upon his request, and browse through the hotel’s porn archives anew—only this time, he’d given you the honor of choosing.

“The hell is a doodle?”

Your brain was still asleep when your eyes fluttered open, failing to identify the humongous white fluff that warmed your face until you peeled it off. Bear…? No, not just any bear. A panda bear, though that didn’t explain its origins or the reason it sat on your head either. You wondered if someone had tried to suffocate you only to give up halfway through, but when you nearly lost your eyesight to the blinding lights above, you appreciated the kindness in the proprietor’s heart.

You buried your face back into the plushie’s belly and rolled onto your side in a fetal position, the memory of your sunglasses too distant for you to question their sudden disappearance. For now, all you wanted was for the lights to go away and for the voice in the speaker to quit yapping—

As if a current charged your joints with electricity, you jolted against the bedpost, the realization of you enjoying a nap in a semi-public space coming with a heavy dose of panic once you spotted a pair of stretched legs to your left.

“Don’t like the jungle schlong?” The legs, or rather, the mouth that belonged to their owner asked.

A deep exhale jogged your memory of the furniture store and present-day Toji, his younger counterpart vanishing as an apparition of the past.

You flipped the toy around until you spotted the tag hanging from its right foot. Djungelskog.

“Very funny,” You exclaimed, shoving it against Toji’s face, who in turn threw it under his armpit. “How long was I out of it?”

“An hour, more or less. They wanted to call security but changed their minds after some Chinese couple bought the same bed,” he sneered. “Got such a cute sleeping expression when ya drool all over yourself.”

You scrubbed your jaw with the back of your hand, feeling the crisps of saliva deteriorate. What were the death rates for suicide by plush toy asphyxiation in Japan again?

“Y’are welcome,” he answered in case you felt like thanking him for saving you some face.

“So, how did it go with the salesgirl? Shagged her yet?”

Like a gravure model, Toji propped himself against the bed, tilting his cheek into his palm. “Jealous?”

You scoffed. “Hardly. Just wondering how long before you lose your touch now that you are nearing your thirties. Should find yourself a dutiful young wife to clean your denture before it’s too late, old man.”

He was uncharacteristically quiet until his hand dug into his pocket to reveal a rectangular blue note that he slid across the covers. “Not a chance, kiddo.”

You seized the paper, thrilled to see the words “10% off” spelled in yellow capital letters. “That’s actually impressive! How did you do it?”

“Trade secret,” he shrugged.

You decided you didn’t need to hear the rest. This was enough for both the furniture and his treat— maybe even groceries, if his mood remained unspoiled. “Just won yourself a second cone,” you beamed, wiggling your way across the edge of the bed. “Come, let’s get the stuff and go home.”

“I’ll go first,” Toji declared as he leaped to his feet.

“Don’t want your new girlfriend getting the wrong idea?” you smirked. “Fine, fine. I’ll meet you at the warehouse.”

Without confirming your assumption, he hastily strode off through the doorless entryway, leaving the bear plushie behind to endure your wrath for when you’d finally discover there were two sides to the coupon and the backside that read “Newlyweds Discount”—his name reaching his ears about five rooms later.

A/N: I have the need to mention that their IKEA date was inspired by 500 Days of Summer and that the toilet was a gag in Better Call Saul. In the Mood for Love is an amaaaaazing movie, that I definitely recommend for angst lovers! Also, all the porn movies I mentioned are LEGIT lmao, I wish I was joking. Oh, and this chapter features a lot of foreshadowing for the next one, guess what it is and enter the giveaway for a--- yeah, no. I'm joking, but the foreshadowing stands.

tags: @absoluteindulgence , @evansuvamp , @sarwhorius , @liluvtojineteyam , @whodoesthatanymore , @m00dycr4nkybitc , @tzutology , @lilykitt3 , @whispers-of-lilith , @batafuraikisu , @zerotwo-sciencequeen , @vel1ia , @allen-444

Just went ahead and tagged those of you who commented, hope I got everyone right.

Comment to be tagged on future updates!

[angelynmoon]

Eldritch Steve

Part 12

-

Steve makes a nest after Wayne talks to him, it's not something he's compelled to do, just something he wants.

He steals Robin's vests and her pillows, because they smell like her, anxiety and excitment, they smell like sister. He steals shirts from the children, all their left socks too, just because, the shirts smell like home and family, they smell like his, even with the undertones of betrayed and abandoned that Will, Jonathan, and El's clothes leave from Joyce.

Steve can tolerate it because there is also understanding and argument and acceptance in the trace that Hopper leaves on the cloth.

Argyle brings him blankets for the Wheeler home, where he and Jonathan are staying until they find a place of their own with Nancy, Steve is especially pleased wuth the way they smell, like love and comfort and family, not like his kids but still family, and just a tiny hit of Other, not unlike the way Wayne smells, just not as deep, like it has been bred out for too many years tobe like them.

Argyle just smiles and helps him build his nest, fixing parts when Steve gets frustrated with the edges and telling his stories, and Steve knkws that there is at least one Other, all the way out in California because Argyle speaks of his grandmother, whise age no one in the family seems to know and who changes it everytime she's asked, sometimes she's 90, other she has lost count after all tbe centuries that have passed.

"You remind me of her." Argyle tells him as they finish the nest and move on to making an overhang to hid it, "She'd make nests like this whenever the moms would get pregnant, and she'd lay with them inside until the babies were two weeks old, the babies were kept there, not presented until that time."

Argyle looked at Steve, "We always had home births, I helped with my mom's last one, nothing came of it, the child was not born alive, but I know what to do."

"Why wasn't it alive?" Steve asked, curious.

"These things sometimes happen, the first generation of a crossbreed always has more dead children than live." Argyle said gently, "It's why there are no multiples in my family, because it was better to make one at a time."

Steve paused as he held a blanket.

"But my family only had Grandmother, you have Wayne too. I think, I think your kind is not meant to be alone, not really." Argyle said softly with a smile, "You have all of us too."

"Yes, yes, I have all of you." Steve smiled back and nailed his blanket up before going to retreive the blankets he and Eddie had been using for the last few days, spreading them over the nest beneath the tent of blankets, so his scent of warmth, love and home, home, home was the most prominant, and them he went and dug out the work shirt he'd stolen from Wayne and tucked it into a corner of the nest, he wanted their eventual children to know Wayne's scent, but most importantly he wanted them to know it as a safe one, like the others in the nest, to know that he was not a danger to them, but a protection for them.

"I think I'd like to meet your Grandmother." Steve said as he a Argyle finished the nest, Steve would drag the children to sleel there for the night, in order to embed their smells a little more secrurely.

"I think she'd like to meet you, too." Argyle said, "But the moms are getting ready for the next baby back home, so it may take a few months before she comes out here."

Steve nodded with a hum, children first, he'd neet her eventually, maybe she'd even come out to stay, it would be nice to have others of his ki d he could trust to help keep his family safe.

-

A/n: so, a lot of people seemed to want Argyle to be the Other, well, he's not completely Other but rather a few generations removed, because why not.

His grandmother came through one of the cracks, ate a few towns, and then fell in love with one of the natives tasked with killing her, he married her instead and they had to flee the tribe when she spawned and ended up in California where she had three live children(girls all of them, Argyle is the first boy born in the family because he's the first one that also has two moms, the others chose a male partner.)

Because it amuses me to think that all the of decendents of Argyle's Grandmother are female and can therefore Spawn without a male presence, which some of them have, so Argyle has practical Spawning knowledge because Wayne has never Spawned in his life and Steve needs someone that will make sure his hybred babies live.

Have a happy unbirthday(it's my actual birthday so I'm making like a Hobbit and giving you a gift.)

@addelyin @merricatty @lesbiabrobin @apuckishwit @0o-mushroom-o0 @starlight-archer @darkwitchoferie @just-a-tiny-void @swimmingbirdrunningrock @intergalactic-president-awesome @vampireinthesun @goodolefashionedloverboi @adhdsummer @purpleanimeoverart @space-invading-pigeon @lilaclilyroses @nohomoyesbi @plantzzsandpencilzzs @korixae @subversivecynic @flusteredcas @persnicketysquares @freddykicksasses @little-trash-ghost @cupcakesnwhiskey @cats-ate-all-of-my-pasta @planetsoda @paintsplatteredandimperfect @irregular-child @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @steddieassheg0es

[may-bornmia]

Clingy Little Baby (series) - Bang Chan

(a/n: THIS HAS BEEN POSTED ON WATTPAD UNDER MY USERNAME may_bornmia !!)

Pairings: Bang Chan x OC (you can picture yourself, whatever makes you comfortable :))

Warnings (for the entirety of the series): littlespace, forthcoming smut, subspace, a HUGE amount of fluff, fast-paced story

CHAPTER 1: A Crush

Bang Christopher Chan has tried his goddamn best to look away, but whenever Park Ahyoung is in the same lecture as him, seated right before him, he fails miserably. It would be an understatement to call his admiration for her just a crush, because, to him, she was the prettiest, most endearing girl on the entire college campus. 

He did not lack female attention; instead, he had an abundance of it, with almost every other girl trying to converse with him somehow, or even touch him. And he was polite to everyone -- smiling whenever someone talked to him, helping others with their assignments, and was on good terms with the professors. So it did not make much of a difference whenever someone new came to interact with him. 

Yet, he knew that something was different when, for the first time, a fidgety Ahyoung walked over to his seat and feebly asked him about their next assignment. Attention sparked, and he felt slight goosebumps on his skin when she adorably smiled, mumbling a little 'thank you' to him before waddling away. Chan was immediately made aware of her presence; the petite introvert with the cutest smile and sparkly eyes, and the smallest voice known to mankind. 

Something in him moved that day -- to say it in the cheesiest manner -- and for two weeks, he had been trying to come up with excuses to talk to her. However, it was a rather tough job, because she was extremely shy and introverted. And she seemed afraid of him, God knows why. 

And currently, sitting behind her, his attention kept diverting from the lecture to Ahyoung. He tried his best to tear his focus away from the cutie, but when she turned to the side to face her friend and smile, his heart almost exploded with joy. 

It was always a gorgeous sight to see her smile. 

As far as he had observed, she only had a single friend, Kim Seungmin, who was super protective of her. It was like he was shielding his own child from the malice of this sinful world. Chan had seen him cuss out loud at some girl who was trying to pick on Ahyoung, and by the end of the curses, that girl had her mascara running down her face. 

Chan watched her in a dreamy trance, until his seatmate, Han Jisung, whispered to him, "You look drunk." 

The Aussie woke up from his trance and faced Jisung, who stifled a chuckle. Chan sighed and whispered back to him, "Shut up." 

"With this," the professor spoke, "We end today's class. You're all dismissed." 

Chan was collecting his books when he heard Seungmin speak to Ahyoung, "I have to go home right now. Mom isn't doing well, so I need to take care of her. I won't be able to do the presentation with you in the next class." 

Ahyoung made an adorable pout at him, and Chan heard her voice over a mumble for the first time as she spoke, "I hope she gets well soon, Minnie." 

The loverboy could almost melt there. 

Seungmin spoke further, "Will you be able to present alone?" 

"I... can try." 

The best friend grinned, patting her head, "I'm rooting for you, alright? Call me once you're done." 

He gathered his books and walked out of the class, and Jisung picked up his stuff, saying, "Come on, Chan, let's go. We have a presentation in the next class." 

One could see the gears turning in Chan's head. As soon as Ahyoung stood up, fixing her skirt, he spoke up from his seat, "Hey, Ahyoung!" 

She looked visibly nervous, "Um, hello..." 

"Are you prepared for the presentation?" 

Jisung watched in utter curiosity at his friend trying to make her comfortable. He was aware of Chan's crush on her. But what was he doing? 

Ahyoung, on the other hand, bit her lower lip in the most latent manner, "I am, but I-I don't have a partner." 

"Oh, I don't have a partner, too," Chan lied, pretending to think hard, "How about we partner up for this?" 

Ahyoung's eyes widened, and from the background, one could hear Jisung shrieking, "Bro, really?" 

"Would you be comfortable partnering up with me?" Chan continued to gently ask her, and she rubbed her shoe on the ground subtly, anxious about the entire ordeal. However, partnering up with someone could prove to be better than doing it all herself, right? All the amount of anxiety was piling up on her, and she kept telling herself in her head: Bang Chan is a good person. Bang Chan is a good person. He won't harm me. 

So, she questioned, "We haven't prepared together yet..." 

"We still have, like, 30 minutes before the next class. How about we prepare now?" the Aussie grinned charmingly, and she blushed and looked down, "Okay, let's do it." 

"Unbelievable," Jisung walked off in comic frustration, having been betrayed just a moment ago. 

___

(a/n: next part coming up soon!~)

[violetlunette]

Something I really like about Silver is that no matter what the situation, he’ll always do what he truly believes to be right, no matter what may happen next.

Twst Spoilers

*Playland Event

*Glorious Masquerade

*Book 7

Notes:

*Overthinking and rambling

Two examples of Silver’s “fuck it, I’ll do what’s right” are in the Endless Halloween Event and in Chapter/book 7.

Lilia and Malleus are two of the most beloved people to him, they’re literally everything to him along with Sebek. Yet when they screw up he firmly tells them such.

He pointed out that in the Halloween Event that, while the two wanted to do something nice for everyone, the way they went about it was wrong as students could have gotten hurt.

In Chapter 7, Silver understands that Malleus wants to make everyone happy and not lose Lilia. However, he still calls Malleus out for trapping everyone against their will and is even willing to fight his master, despite owing the other for helping to raise him and the fact Malleus turns on him after this. Why? Because what Malleus is doing is wrong and he’s hurting people.

Silver is extremely empathetic; he does his best to understand others and why they do what they do. However, he does so without discarding the actions they do and the effects on others.

This is one of the reasons I wanted to see him in the Playland event as I want to see how he would react to someone he isn’t emotionally connected to doing severe harm.

Fellow and Gidel are human traffickers and are fully aware of what they’re doing, and the harm they cause and don’t care.

Kalim, who shares Silver’s good heart, wants to understand why Fellow is doing what he is, and try to reach a peaceful resolution. (Though in this case, I don’t believe he knows there are other victims, so we don’t know how he would react if he knew.)

Ace, on the other hand, focuses solely on the actions of Fellow in the present and the danger he’s inflicting on them and their friends. Therefore, he’s not even willing to consider a peaceful solution.

And the rest—as soon as they’re not in danger, they don’t give a fuck. (I think it’s out of character for Floyd and Jade who I believe would seek revenge, but I digress. It’s fairly in-character for the rest of them.)

I wonder how Silver would react in that situation—provided he was written in character. (And KNEW there were past victims.)

In the Masquerade event, he seems to let Rollo slide, but in that case he was handled by Malleus and when everything was fixed there was no lasting damage. Everyone was tired but recovered, so while there was fowl, there was no harm.

In Fellow and Gidel’s case, it’s different; there are victims, there is harm, lasting harm. People are still out there, trapped within their bodies, screaming for help that will never come while the ones that loved them are doomed to mourn forever.

Going to what Silver might do if he were at Playland, I think he would be in the middle ground between Ace and Kalim. Like Kalim, he’d want to understand and negotiate peacefully, however, he wouldn’t just ignore Fellow’s actions, past or present.

Silver’s an empathetic person. While he might empathize with how hopeless Fellow must have felt to fall with this point, he would also feel for the people who were hurt.

I know he’d call Fellow out and lay out what was wrong, but what about after? Would Silver’s words reach Fellow and make him feel guilty? Or would he just shrug it off and fight Silver till the boy was a puppet? And what after, assuming everyone made it out? Would Silver just let them go, or hand them over to the authorities?

Most likely, he would turn to Lilia who would tell him to let them go, or let them go himself if the two showed genuine remorse. See, as noble as Silver is, he isn’t a seeker of justice. His desire is to protect, not smite evil.

So, to wrap up, I like the noble side of Silver and am glad we get to see it whenever he takes the stage. Personally, I want to see that spirit of his challenged more by facing those with actual dark intentions where HE has to make a choice of how to handle them.

[citrus-simp]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1

Warnings: language, Katsuki is basically cold and mean here. Katsuki is 23 here and reader is 22

note: just be aware this series will end up being 18+ this chapter won’t be so much because it’s simply the first chapter! Your have been warned!!

2

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

“Alright that patches things up! Now stay off of your foot this time!” You scold the knight as you stand from your seat. You had once again tended and patched up more than 20 soldiers from their last battle. Your kingdom had unfortunately been in the most of a battle between a neighboring kingdom to the south. Once their ruler had found the richness of the land and it’s properties he wanted it for his own. Now he would send invasions to weaken your kingdom until it was his for the taking.

Not only did you have strong warriors but you also had an amazing medical team. Your kingdom made sure to prioritize the education of medical procedures and techniques. You happened to be one of the top performing healers in the castle. In fact you were also the princess and heir to the thrown. You had shown much promise to your father and advisors. Typically wanting a male heir you showed much more potential and promise than any that came before you.

“You get it from your mother” you father would always comment whenever you were praised for strategic action. In fact you were sometimes called the perfect princess. Intelligent, kind, strong and ever so beautiful. However, you were very stubborn and set on not fixing a suitor. You felt It was simply a waste of time and a position where you would end up only being a trophy wife. You felt much better in the most of the action rather than the sidelines.

“Your highness, the king has requested your presence” a young lady in waiting had informed you

“Hm, it must be about the last invasion. Please tend to these men and make sure they’re given the herbs that are needed” you order before taking your leave. Walking up the steps into the main hall and taking a left into the throne room, you find your father.

“Ah Y/N, come sit my princess, we have something important to discuss” he said patting your own throne seat next to his. You walk over and take your seat but still face him. Usually you’d sit properly in front of your subjects and anyone else in the room but it was just you both this time! Your favorite! You just felt like father and daughter. No titles, no burdens or responsibilities.

"Now, because of this war some things have surfaced between us and our neighboring kingdom to the north. I won’t stretch out the truth and tell you straight away” he says with a pause “….You will marry within a month. For the remaining time you will spend with Katsuki in the Bakugou kingdom"

"WHAT? FATHER YOU CANT-“

"The decision has been made, and finalize the two of the truth, and will be married after two weeks of kingdoms will join into one. This will not only bring peace between our kingdoms, but it is in the war with Neighboring kingdom." He cut you off.

You guess there was no fighting this. You, an independent and intelligent princess betrothed to the infamous prince Katsuki Bakugou, the dragon prince. Now known as your soon to be husband and king.

Sure you knew that as a princess, you would be betrothed at some point in your life but him of all royalty? He was known for being ruthless mean and cold some would even say barbaric. However, with the war, a hand any possible, step ahead should be taken once it appears. If it meant that your kingdom and your father would be saved, then you were willing to marry and join the kingdoms.

“father...please don't make me.." you tried to plead in a last attempt. Maybe, just maybe there was a second option. Your father loves you more than anything. But this war was taking a toll on recourses, soldiers and the last thing he needed was to also loose you. The Bakugou kingdom was strong no doubt and uniting may be the only way to keep you safe. Combining your kingdoms talent with medical and health skills with their strategic fighting may finally put things to rest.

"Y/N, you will be fine. I'll make you a deal. If at any moment you feel your life is truly threatened and you are facing life or death, I will call this off completely." He said, trying to alleviate some of the stress of the situation.

And it was enough for you.

“Deal. But I still will not enjoy this. If you expect me to fall in love with him, then you're wrong."

~~~

"Katsuki. This is not up for discussion. They are not only our neighboring kingdom they are also a valuable Ally not to mention the princess is very beautiful, patient and intelligent." His mother, the queen inquired

"Like I give a damn about all that bullshit. I do just fine on my own" said prince crossing his arms “I don't need a damn bride to make anything better”

" complain all you want, but in two days time she will be here in our kingdom. Spend the next week with you before the wedding" she spat back. Funny enough whoever met the queen was convinced that she ran the kingdom and not her husband.

"Whatever you old hag" Bakugou brushed her off as he left the throne room

“Prepare yourself Katsuki! You have to grow out of that mentality to run this kingdom...and clean your damn room! No woman wants to see that!" She sighs as she watches her son walk out of the throne room. His signature scowl and fiery eyes making anyone in the halls move aside.

Opening the door to his bedroom he slams it shut and flips on to his bed. He crossed his arms behind his head as he stared into the ceiling.

“Tch. Damn war and contracts.” He muttered to himself. Just then there was a knock at the door. Without waiting for an answer it opens and in comes a young man around the same age with bright red hair.

“Hey Bakugou! Heard about the engagement, you must be excited” he said closing the door

“If you call wanting to give up my title so I don’t have to marry excited. sure I am excited” he answers sitting up “don’t know why I had to get wrapped up in this shit. They can just crown me, give me the kingdom and I’ll end this war in one blow.” He said standing from his bed “let’s go spar i gotta blow off steam”

Kirishima was his play mate in the castle as a child who eventually became part of the guard. They now spar, hunt, or just plainly hang out together. he will never admit it, Kirishima was more of a friend than castle staff to him.

As the two young males spar together they exchange conversation and comments among each other. Their swords clashing in clinging every now and then followed by grunts or curses. Both were very skilled fighters and were known for their strength.

“Come on man *clang* it can’t be- woah! That bad” he comments as he doges a swing of his sword and a punch “I mean I think everyone at some point thinks about finding someone to spend your life with”

“ yeah, that’s everyone else, Shity Hair, not me! AH!” He shouts as swings his sword to have Kirishima duck and and knock him off his feet

“You gotta stop call me that man, we both basically have the same hair” he said from the ground lookin up at the prince.

“Yeah whatever, get your ass up” he said reaching his hand out for him to take. Bakugou has always had things done on his own without help. If his parents would allow him he’d go into battle and show everyone just how capable he was without a title, wife or anything.

“Hopefully she’ll hate this idea as much as I do” he said dusting himself off “then I can just send her off to where she came from. Heh or maybe even just keep her around to entertain me”

“Well yeah i guess, but doesn’t that seem a bit cruel?” Kirishima commented

“And? I just need her out of the way.”

“And what if she goes through all of that and ends up staying? What are you gonna do then?” He questioned his plan making the young man think

“I doubt she’ll get there but if she does, I could really care less if she stays or leaves. Let’s go eat I’m starving”

Kirishima simply shook his head and followed the young man inside to the dining hall.

~~~ the next day~~~

You gaze out of the carriage as you were on your way to the Bakugou kingdom. You honestly didn’t feel like it was happening. Like an out of body experience. Maybe your body was on autopilot because of the huge shift. You just stared out into the sky thinking of what you could have been doing instead.

Instead of packing all your clothes, and books. Instead of reading the garden under the large oak tree. Instead of helping people in the medical area of the castle. Instead you were here on your way to be married off.

The ride to their kingdom would take about one day and one night. You had left the night before so you’ll probably be there by nightfall of the day. Your father would actually spend those few days with you so he’s able to attend to wedding. You were happy for that part at least. As you stared blankly at the sky you hadn’t even realized you had fallen asleep. The motion of the carriage and the sound of hooves dancing on the ground had put you right to sleep.

Once you had gotten there you peeked from the vehicle and saw the king, Queen and prince standing in front of the castle entrance. The prince seemed at have said something that earned him a smack tot he head from his mother. Your father helped you out of the carriage as you were both announced.

“Please welcome the arrival of Y/L/N kingdom!” You and your father walked arm in arm up the steps and were welcomed by the king and queen.

“Welcome to our kingdom King (name) and of course princess Y/N” the queen said taking a quick bow. You and your father reciprocate the same action and thank her for her welcome. “Come inside, nightfall is near and usually the cold settles in more” she said moving out of the way to welcome you both into the large and impressive castle.”

As he walked by and take a quick glance at the prince and see his cold scowl. Aside from his attitude portrayed on his face, you could see that he was indeed, very attractive. He had a strong build in a very handsome face with wild and explosive looking hair. He also had deep, bright red eyes. They almost look like rubies. 

However all that beauty goes to waste when he scans you up and down and gives you a scoff. His father pushed him towards you urging him to play his role as the crowned prince of the kingdom. Rolling his eyes he takes your hand and raises it to kiss the back of your hand with a groan. Contrast of his cold demeanor, and his warm, soft kiss honestly confused you. Maybe other princesses with you by his actions, but you felt the hypocrisy behind it.

You follow behind the royals as they lead you into the dinning hall to enjoy a dinner together. You say next to your father and across the table we’re the royal family. His parents seemed delighted and almost relived you were there. Bakugou looked like he’s rather be doing anything else.

“Y/N, I’ve heard a lot about your studies you do for you kingdom” the queen complimented trying to break the awkward silence

“Oh you better believe every word,” you father answered “if I had ti admit she’s the backbone of our kingdom and why we keep fighting back” he said ruffling your hair

“Yeah right” Katsuki mumbled under his breath

“Well your majesty, i knew our soldiers not needed not only the best medical attention but also medical attention in numbers. Giving that we have a sizable amount of young men I had taken women from our village, gave them education and had them work beside me.” You explain as a fire back to the princes remark

“Fascinating,” she said leaning on her hand

“Not only do we benefit from it, those in the village do as well. Mortality rate has dropped, those in poor areas can now afford food and shelter due to their jobs with us, and of course we help one another to survive” you elaborate more

“She’s quit nice son, why don’t you give it a shot” his father whispered nudging his son only making the prince roll his eyes

“Gorgeous, intelligent, and talented! You really are a rare treasure princess.” She complimented you once again “anyway! You must both be exhausted from the long journey. Please show them to their rooms” the queen called for the staff to assist you to your rooms for the time being.

As tradition is, you all now to one another and they all wished you a good nights rest. After settling in to your room, you change into something comfortable and look out of the window. It was late summer and you could feel the chill of Autumn coming through the glass. You had a beautiful view of their village and all the little lights on. Looking upwards you see a candle in the window of none other than the prince. He had gone to turn out the candle when he spotted you.

You both just stared at one another for a moment. As if trying to communicate some kind of message from the distance. He simply raised the candle near his face and blew out the flame. Instead you took your candle and placed it on the bed side. You watch as the flame danced freely on the wick of the candle. Freely flickering and dancing and waving as she pleased.

I’m ways your wishes to be that same candle. Dancing within your own world, to your path…and no one else’s…you feel your eyes flutter shut as the hypnotic flame pulls you into sleep for the night.

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

Taglist 🐉: @aikugo @outcast-thingz @sad0ni0n @sageyrage @cathwritestragediesnotsins @scarsofbeauty

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 09

In the Eye of the Storm

I call her trouble

She knows exactly what she's doing to me

- ( The song of the chapter is " Trouble" by Camylio)

The rain pounds against the windshield, the rhythmic sound blending with the low hum of the engine as he grips the steering wheel tighter. His eyes remain fixed on the road, but his mind is far from focused on the drive. Instead, it’s tangled in thoughts of her.

Why her?

Why can't this girl stay the fuck out of his life?

And now she is living rent-free in his fucking head as well. Nonstop.

The wipers swipe furiously, clearing the glass for just a moment before the downpour obscures it again, just like his thoughts of her. No matter how many times he tries to push her out of his mind, she keeps coming back, unsettling him in ways he can’t control.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

He isn’t supposed to feel anything.

Not toward her.

He has built walls around himself for a reason and has mastered the art of indifference. Nobody knows what he had to do to stand in a place where he looked at her and felt nothing.

But there she is.

Back again in his life with a bang.

The girl is a chaos. Whenever she is in his life, she brings nothing but carnage.

Khushi Sen Gupta.

The bane of his existence.

She will be the ruin of him, he can feel it in his bones.

Just like she ruined him 18 years ago.

But this time, she's back to ruin him in a different way. And he’s not sure which one is more dangerous, the little girl who shattered his world then and turned his life upside down or the woman standing before him with fire in her eyes now.

Her fiery Hazel eyes flash through his mind.

Fuck!

He bangs his hand on the steering wheel hard, triggering several sensors all at once.

Anger doesn't suit him. He has meticulously controlled it all these years, sealing the cracks, ensuring that no emotion slips through, not anger, not fear, not pain..... not anything.

Yet, she's already found a way of slipping through the cracks, getting under his skin. She is like a splinter lodged deep inside.

Irritating, persistent.

And impossible to ignore.

One moment, he convinces himself she doesn’t matter, that she is just another complication he can manage. And yet, in the next breath, his mind will drift to her. Those defiant eyes, how the green around her iris seems to flare up like it's caught on fire, whenever she seethes with rage. The way her skin flushes, the way her voice quivers with anger or softens in the next moment. And then, there are her lips and the way she bites them.

Damn it. The girl is fucking haunting. She has been in his mind like a spell since the night she held a knife to his back.

He met plenty of beautiful women in his life, women with perfect bodies, perfect hair, perfect skin. Supermodels, movie stars.....yet they all seem to fade away when it comes to her.

What is it that made him so fixated on her?

It isn’t like she is new to him. He's seen her before, knew what she looked like. So what has changed?

He shouldn't pretend like he doesn't know what has changed. He knows, damn it.

Then, again. Why her?

He should not fucking care. She should be just another casualty, another collateral damage. He presses harder on the gas, the car slicing through the rain-soaked streets.

It’s not possible that he can’t throw away the thought of a certain girl from his head. Arnav Singh Raizada can't be affected by anyone, especially not by her.

It is infuriating, maddening, to be so consumed by someone he wants nothing to do with. The rain falls harder, and he drives faster as if somehow, speeding through the storm will drown out the storm within him. But it doesn’t. He knows it never will.

But one thing he is sure of -- Khushi Sen Gupta is the most dangerous creature he has ever encountered. A chaos wrapped in a red saree, dancing in the rain, and she’s back again to wreak havoc once again. A storm he thought he'd survived, only to find it returning fiercer, more dangerous than ever.

And this time, she might destroy him for good.

Fuck!

He storms into his office, his secret office, where he conducts his other interests. Water drips from his soaked clothes. His hair is a chaotic mess from running his fingers through it.

He shrugs off his drenched blazer, tossing it onto the leather couch, not bothering to glance at the door as it clicks shut behind him.

Sheetal is already inside, sitting on his desk, waiting for him. She raises her eyebrow at his appearance but quickly masks it with a sultry smile. “Rough day?” she purrs, leaning back slightly, her eyes roaming over his dishevelled figure.

He barely acknowledges her as he sits down behind the desk, rubbing his temple. But before he can settle into his chair, she moves swiftly, sliding off the desk and onto his lap in one fluid motion.

"Arnav, you’re soaked," she says as she places a hand on his chest, fingers trailing the wet fabric of his shirt.

"So am I." Her lips curl into a smile.

For a moment, he doesn’t react, his gaze distant, staring past her as if she isn’t even there as he loosens his tie. Then, slowly, his eyes lock onto hers.

"Is Mr. Rathore's dick not keeping you satisfied? If you need another one up your ass, I can arrange that. But don't play this kind of stunt on me." His voice drops down an octave. "Now. Get. Off. Me."

She pouts, sliding off his lap and settling into the chair across from him, "You are no fun."

"Why are you here?" His tone cuts through her playful act.

She bites her lip, flashing him a coy smile, the same tactics she always uses when she wants something. It might work on Mr.Rathore, but not on him.

"Umm...Listen, it's been four years. I want out. How long do I have to keep playing this part?"

"You get me what I want and you are free to go."

"Didn't I get you enough intel already? Didn't I tell you about the deal? ......and the thing with the Serpent wouldn't have been possible if it wasn't for me?"

"It's not time yet."

"I don't fucking care!!!" Her voice shakes as she clutches her head.

What the....! Why's she so dramatic today? She wants drama, he can be equally dramatic. Also today is not a good day . Not for him.

"Don't you just look pretty with all your body parts intact, Sheetal? Or what's his name again, Aarav, right?" He says turning his laptop on. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the trembling of her hands. Her eyes widen at the mention of this name. "Do you have a short-term memory? Do I need to remind you all of these... every two months? About what will happen if you don't do what I say?"

"You know that old hag loves me. I can ruin your life in a second if I just open my mouth."

He chuckles, barely glancing up from his screen, "It's funny that you think you can use this against me." He just shakes his head, typing away a pending email to one of his business partners. "By the way, I thought you already opened your mouth for him."

"You...."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk...." his voice sounds icy. "Think twice before cursing the man who holds your son's life in his hand."

Her eyes gloss over as she looks away. "I haven't seen my son properly in last four years....because you have him captive...."

"I don't have him captive. You know it very well. If you want an increase in the visiting hours. You can just say so...Stop these theatrics."

"Death would be much better than this. Why don't you just kill me?" she whispers looking out of the window.

Now, she is taking it too far. Exactly when she knows he won't kill her.

"That's, my dear, would be a waste. And, why would I do that? You've been so good to me. Besides, it'd be a shame to lose such a pretty face."

She has wasted enough of his time. She needs to go. He has other matters to take care of. "And, just so we're clear, If ..You...Ever..Open Your mouth for anything other than his dick. I won't kill you..umm..no....I will just kill your son. And...I will let you live. "

Her face pales as horror spreads across her features.

He smirks, "I am kidding,..... sort of."

"You are a monster."

"Tell me something I don't know," he sighs. "We had an agreement, Sheetal, didn't we? As long as you keep your end of the deal, I'll keep mine. So why are we here tonight, threatening each other?"

She just sits there pensively looking outside the window. "Go home before I change my mind." His tone is final.

The click of her heels fades as she leaves, the sound grating on his nerves. He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing.

Sheetal has been testing his patience far too often lately. He doesn’t have the habit of repeating himself, and her constant mood swings are starting to wear him thin.

He taps his fingers against the desk, considering. Is it time to get rid of her?  Not yet. No, he needs her for just a little while longer. Mr. Rathore is no fool, removing her too soon would raise suspicions and he can't afford that right now. Timing is everything.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. Soon. Just a little longer, and she’ll be discarded like the pawn she always was.

He first met Sheetal at one of their fashion shows, amidst the glitz and glamour of the Fashion Line Group. A supermodel with legs that seemed to stretch on forever, a sultry smile that could weaken even the most resolute of men. She glided through the room like she owned it, a confidence so sharp that it cut through any sense of modesty. She drew attention effortlessly like a magnet, the kind of woman who didn’t have to try to be noticed.

Even Mr. Rathore, known for his stoic indifference, couldn't take his eyes off her despite his age. So much so that he started pursuing her and they started seeing each other secretly.

With her natural charm, that smooth, flirtatious voice, and a manipulation technique so precise it was almost art, Sheetal knew how to make a man fall for her. She knew how to get what she wanted, and she always made sure she did. She had an insatiable desire for luxury, money, comfort and a strong will to do whatever required to achieve that.

Arnav had seen through her from the start. To others, she was a vision, a desirable conquest. To him, she was a weapon, one he could wield as he saw fit.

So, he offered her a deal, one million a year, for her to do whatever he said, and to his delight, she accepted. But there was one condition, he had to ensure her son’s safety. So, Arnav had Aarav moved to a safe house, somewhere she could only visit with proper planning.

And that’s when the real game began. The key lay in knowing how to place her in the right spot. With meticulous planning, he positioned her in Mr. Jha’s orbit to see if he was taken by her beauty like others or not. Mr. Jha was, to put it more accurately, absolutely taken by her. So, Arnav ensures she’s close enough to Mr.Jha to gain his trust, to become indispensable.

She played her part perfectly, whispering into Mr.Jha's ear about how she could work for him by warming Mr.Rathore's bed. Mr.Jha liked that idea very much, didn't he?

After that, she kept throwing her web at Mr.Rathore and he got tangled in it more and more. And soon they started living together. That part was surprisingly easy. Guess, he was lonely after his wife's death. Then again, since when had he been so faithful to his marriage?

Mr. Jha thought she was working for him, spying on Mr. Rathore from within and feeding him valuable information directly from the eagle’s den. What Mr.Jha didn’t know was that the one pulling the strings all along was someone else altogether.

Sheetal wasn’t anyone’s puppet but his.

Every move she made, every bit of intel she whispered into Mr. Jha’s ear was orchestrated by him. It was all part of the plan. His plan.

He wonders what’s gotten into her lately. He can tell she’s been enjoying the attention from these powerful men, relishing the control, the taste of power that came with having them in the palm of her hand. But recently for few weeks, her behavior is off... unpredictable. She's also got him in a very bad time. He needs to talk to her and figure out what's really going on.

Honestly, Sheetal has been very useful to him. Extracting words from Mr. Rathore is no simple task. The man is a fucking vault, tightly shut. Yet, somehow, she's managed to coax the secret out of him. It just took four long years.

Recently, they had a breakthrough, and she just got him the greatest intel of all. The deal Mr.Rathore made with the other families, the leverage he holds over them. The leverage he holds over him to an extent.

It's a brilliant deal, he has to admit. Ruthless, calculated, and perfectly executed, exactly the kind of move he would have made. That’s what he got from Mr.Rathore. No sentiment, no weakness. Just power plays and leverage. It’s a game where only the heartless survive and Mr.Rathore understands that well.

But one thing very peculiar yet commendable about these cold-blooded gangsters is that they might kill your offsprings, but they do love their offsprings to the death. After all, family comes before everything else.

Huh! Anyway.

Armed with those intels, plans were perfectly executed. Mission was accomplished. But a little complication with her fiery hazel eyes and sassy words entered his life. And she didn't enter empty-handed, she entered with knives.

Plans had to be scrapped and remodelled. Old chess pieces had to be removed and replaced with new ones.

It was time to get rid of Mr.Rathore's childhood friend slash bodyguard, Mohan Rajjani and set someone from Arnav’s arsenal in Rajjani’s place.

About A Week Ago

He asked Rajjani to meet him in the cafeteria of Rathore Industries. It's a place devoid of CCTV, perfect for the occasion. They’re supposed to go over the security details for Mr. Rathore's upcoming visit to Russia. They were trying to do business with the Russian mob, the Bratva, for some time.

In the secluded corner, Arnav sat on the couch with his back against the wall, two steaming cups of coffee in front of him.

One for him, one for Rajjani.

Mr. Rajjani loved coffee.

Double espresso, extra shot, no sugar with full cream milk--hot, not streamed.

Rajjani finally arrived, a solid presence and a no-nonsense attitude that had served him well over the years. Even in his older years, there’s an unmistakable fierceness in him. He made his way over, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution. Arnav gestured for him to take a seat.

“Mr.Raizada,” he greets, his tone friendly yet wary.

Arnav slide the coffee cup across the table. His eyes narrowed as he appraised the older man seated rigidly across from him.

"The coffee's for you."

"Oh, thanks."

Nodding his head, Rajjani took a careful sip from the cup.

Arnav’s eyes fixed on his own cup as he slowly tore the sachet of sugar. He picked up a spoon from the saucer in front of him and started to stir his coffee, leisurely, taking his time. His voice was dangerously calm as he asked, "Is the coffee up to your liking, Mr. Rajjani?"

"Surprisingly yes, the canteen boy finally learned."

Arnav simply nodded and leaned back, placing one ankle over his knee. He continued drinking his coffee while scrolling through his phone. He stayed silent, just sipping his coffee and watching Rajjani from the corner of his eyes. That was always his go-to move. People underestimated how powerful silence could be, especially when they couldn’t stand the weight of it. Humans had a tendency to fill the gaps, and he knew how to use that against them. It was psychological torture, a game he’d mastered over the years.

The silence was thick between them. When it became unbearable Rajjani shifted, casting a glance at Arnav.

"Why don't we talk in front of Mr. Rathore? He is alone in his office."

"I just want to talk to you alone."

Rajjani hesitated for a moment and Arnav could see the wheels turning in his mind. Years in this business had sharpened Rajjani's instincts for trouble, a survival skill he had mastered. Just as he began to rise from his seat, Arnav decided to interrupt.

"I didn’t give you permission to leave, Mr. Rajjani." Arnav said as he looked up.

Rajjani's eyes hardened as his suspicion was confirmed. "I don’t take orders from anyone except Mr. Rathore."

Arnav pursed his lips, measuring Rajjani with his eyes."You will....from me."

Rajjani scoffed, "Do you think I give a damn, boy? I grew up with your father. I don’t fear you."

Arnav paused, lowering his cup to the table. "Yet."

He looked at Rajjani’s coffee cup. It was empty.

Indicating Rajjani’s cup with his eyebrows, he continued, "You know the coffee you just enjoyed so much? It's poisoned. An extremely rare blend of toxin, very hard to acquire and very expensive,... but I collected it especially for occasions like this."

Rajjani’s smirk faded as his face paled, his fingers twitching involuntarily towards the cup.

"But that's beside the point," Arnav added with a casual wave of his hand. "Just one drop or two... and I’d give you about five....umm, no..maybe ten minutes at best.....Soon you will start to sweat and your heart will begin to race...and then it’ll feel like it’s about to burst....Unless, of course, you get the antidote, which just so happens to be in my pocket."

The color drained from Rajjani’s face.

"What is that? Am I smelling fear?" Arnav’s smile widened, as he crossed his arms, his head tilting to the side. "I just fucking love the smell of fear.... Don't you?"

Rajjani tugged on his collar, sweat beading on his forehead.

"You don't have a lot of time, Mr.Rajjani . I suggest you start to cooperate." Arnav said looking at his watch.

Rajjani exhaled sharply, "What do you want?"

"You know, this is why I like you. You really know how to value others' time." Arnav drawled out casually. "Now tell me about the girls."

"What girls? I don’t know anything about any girls!" Rajjani stammered.

"You know, Mr. Rajjani, I don’t like people who lie to my face." Arnav stated as he leaned forward. "Mr. Rathore has a safe house in Lucknow for all the girls, doesn’t he?"

Rajjani’s silence was answer enough.

"So you know about the girls, huh? What I want to know is..., " Arnav picked up a napkin and offered it to Rajjani. "..... about the one growing in the shade of the serpent. Who is she?"

Rajjani hesitated, before finally speaking, his voice wavered. "She’s the real deal, I see." Rajjani gulped then continued, "The raven. She’s the daughter of the raven...... you know all too well about the raven, don’t you Arnav?"

Arnav could feel his face hardened, but he kept his emotions in check. "He wasn’t married. Mistress?"

Rajjani smirked weakly, trying to regain some composure. "More of a lover. He was the lover boy of the group. Loved that girl probably most of his life. But couldn’t marry her because of your father. Such a great friend he was."

Arnav clenched his jaw, "What happened to the mother?"

Rajjani’s gaze dropped to the floor. "She died. I don’t know how. After her death, he brought the girl to your house."

Yes, he knew all about how the girl was brought to their house. Need no reminder of that.

Rajjani's breath came in short, panicked gasps. "I’ve told you everything I know. Now give me the antidote."

"There’s no antidote."

The old man’s face contorted in shock and rage. "You lied! You have no ethics."

Arnav smirked, "I never said I have."

"Mr. Rathore will know about this."

Arnav unlocked his phone, typing a message to his manager, his tone is almost conversational. "You’re dying of a heart attack, Mr. Rajjani. No one will find a trace of the poison in your body in the next fifteen minutes."

"Mr. Rathore will suspect something." A weak voice rasped out.

Arnav’s smile widened, "Really? Do you honestly think Mr. Rathore will suspect me?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. Rajjani’s eyes filled with despair as his body betrayed him. He leaned forward, clutching his chest, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. With the last of his strength, he spat out, "You will rot in hell, Arnav."

Arnav straightened and stood up, "See you there in a couple of years," he said, buttoning his coat. "Make it ready for me, and be prepared to kneel at my feet."

His tone dropped to a deadly whisper as he turned to leave, leaving Rajjani's lifeless body slumped on the table. "I was born to rule, Mr. Rajjani. I will die to rule as well."

His phone pings, bringing him back to the moment. His eyes flicker to the screen.

"ALERT: Unauthorized Access Detected!"

What the hell!!

TheSwallow?!?

"Oh, little bird," he muttered under his breath, "What have you done?"

A dangerous glint flickers in his eyes as he feels the thrill running down his body.

The beauty of a trump card is that it’s played when no one expects it. It’s not about power, it’s about timing.

And this little bird.

She is his.

Author's Note: Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I got a bit lost in Arnav's POV this time. His mind is a can of worms I was hesitant to open! This chapter is pivotal, filled with crucial hints, and now I’m scared, all you brilliant readers might figure it out too soon. Let me know your thoughts and theories in the comments!

Lots of love!!!

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@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @msbhagirathi @herelivesahobbit @titaliya @shiyaravi

[skzhocomments]

A Chance of Fate (Lee Know) - Chapter 6 - Grandma's house

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

---

Chapter 6 - Grandma's house

Chapter word count: 3.2k words

True to his word, Minho had everything packed up for your trip as soon as you woke up the next morning.

“Morning, sunshine!” he welcomed you warmly as you made your way down the stairs into the small restaurant.

All the chairs were flipped and on top of the neatly cleaned tables, and Minho stood in the doorway with a small luggage and a bag in front of him, on the floor.

“I was just taking these to the car. I fixed you a plate in the kitchen, please eat before we leave, hm?” He smiled warmly.

“Thank you, Minho.” You returned his smile. “Are those all our bags?”

“Yeah, I just packed some essentials. There’s actually one more bag in the car with some warm clothes and some spare winter jackets, just in case a zipper breaks or something like that.” He explained, his eyes rolling up, a gesture you noticed he always did whenever he was thinking deeply about something.

This told you that he must’ve gone through everything he packed in his head again before answering you.

“Okay, have you also eaten?”

“I did, so don’t worry about me and go have some food.” Minho urged you, and you finally gave in with a small nod and a smile and watched him exit the restaurant.

~

“Okay, there you go.” Minho said as he helped you get into the car and buckled you in.

“So, where exactly are we going?” You asked curiously.

“To my grandma’s house. She lives in a chalet in the mountains. It’s a really beautiful place, and most importantly, quiet.”

“To your… grandma?” You continued, unsure. “But what will she say… when she sees me?”

“She’ll probably be happy that her favourite grandkid found someone and has a kid on the way.” He chuckled nonchalantly. “And then she’ll forget everything in a few minutes. She has dementia. However, for those few minutes she remembers, would you mind fooling her together? Otherwise, she might not get a chance to see this in her lifetime.”

You smiled at him sweetly. “Of course. By the way, you said you’re her fave grandkid, right? How many others does she have?”

“Just me.” He chuckled.

“Not much competition, then.” You chuckled as well, the car soon being engulfed with both of your laughter, a bit louder than Minho’s playlist.

The ride was a few hours long, but Minho made sure you were comfortable every step of the way. You even made a few stops for a quick snack break and for stretching your legs and arms a bit, and you once again found yourself feeling way too grateful for the man you got to know so well in such a short amount of time.

The feeling in your chest was only growing stronger; that scary feeling that would creep in and whisper in your ear that he could, perhaps, be the man you wanted to spend your life with.

It wasn’t fair to him for you to think like that, you knew, but you couldn’t help wishing he were more. You started to love everything about him: the way his nose scrunched, how his eye corners wrinkled when we would smile, the way he made you breakfast every morning, the way he would bend down to help you put on your shoes, how he would scoop up the cats in his arms. He was annoyingly perfect no matter what he’d do, and the way he treated you… let’s just say no one’s ever taken such good care of you before, and you weren’t used to it, and it made your heart skip every time.

Leaving him is going to hurt. You thought, but you realised you couldn’t keep burdening him by taking advantage of his kindness and readiness to help. Even now, watching the wind caress his hair, you kept thinking that he had to close the restaurant and miss out on making a living just to take you out of the house, because you got scared of his ex-girlfriend shouting at you and coming to hit you.

Right, his ex-girlfriend. Thinking about last night, you were truly puzzled. How could that girl throw away her relationship with such a perfect man, you wondered?

“Minho, can I ask you something?” you were now back in the car, already deep in the mountain’s forest, grandma’s house just an hour or so away.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“You said that the girl from last night was your girlfriend and that she left…”

“Mhm.” He nodded. “What about it?”

“I keep thinking… why? She seemed pretty remorseful…”

He sighed.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that. Sorry I asked.” Your head dropped and you started fidgeting your fingers nervously, afraid that you'd upset him.

He seemed to notice, and he proved once again that your growing affection for him wasn’t unfounded. He gently placed his hand on top of yours, stopping you from hurting your fingers.

“She got into this wonderful university in America. We were all really happy for her, we celebrated for days after she got her acceptance letter.” He smiled bitterly. “And, of course, I was going to support her with everything I had. I’d just finished Uni myself and used to work for this big international company, I had the 9-5 life down to the notch” he chuckled.

“I imagine it’d fit you.” You smiled. “Were you wearing a suit and briefcase like a model salary man?”

“Dal-Rae.” He looked at you shortly and laughed, before his eyes darted back to the road. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“The restaurant fits you much better though.”

“I also like it way more. My back was getting stiff in the office.”

“I bet.” You smiled sympathetically.

“I really needed one of those massages I’m giving your shoulders every other day.”

“Oh, yeah, the massages! Those are the best.” You chuckled. “With how good you are with your hands, maybe you are a masseur in an alternate universe.”

“Yeah, maybe!” He chuckled.

“But damn, a 9 to 5 job when you like to wake up at 11AM?” You shook your head. “Anyways, sorry for interrupting you.” You laughed briefly, the image of salary man Minho still in your head, as you urged him to keep going.

“Okay. Where were we?”

“She got accepted to a Uni…”

“Oh, right. So, as soon as she left, I promised her I would find a way to follow her. I was ready to uproot my life and find a job overseas, because Dal-Rae, I was so sure I was going to marry that girl.”

His words stung, your heart suddenly growing heavy, not because you were jealous, but because you felt the pain in his voice. That prompted you to turn your hand around and capture his, holding tightly. He returned your hold and clasped your fingers together.

“I started job hunting. I asked at work, they had offices in the US and were willing to offer me a position there, providing that I passed the interview. But as time went by, I would find that Jess barely returned my calls. She stopped replying to my messages entirely after about 3 months of her being away, and the only info about her I found out was from Olivia. They were best friends, and apparently Jess didn’t find it too hard to keep in touch with her.”

“So… was that when you broke up with her?”

“God, I wish. But I stayed a doormat for much longer. I accepted the situation as it was, took her dumb excuses to heart and told her I’d wait no matter how much, but in reality, I was struggling and started to doubt everything. I ended up even losing my job because of a stupid mistake I would’ve never in a million years made if I’d paid attention to anything else around me. I was pathetic, really.”

“Minho, you were never pathetic, please don’t say that about yourself.” Tears were prickling your eyes. “She didn’t deserve you. She must’ve realised that too, since she came crawling back.”

He chuckled. “You know what’s funny? She was never that irrational before. I’m sorry she took it out on you.” He looked at you and frowned a bit, his forehead forming firm lines in between his eyebrows.

“You don’t have to apologise… it must’ve been pretty shocking, especially since she misunderstood seeing me…” You pointed towards your ever-growing belly and were surprised to see Minho letting go of your hand and cupping your belly gently, caressing it.

It was like the baby responded to his touch, because you quickly felt a powerful kick directly under his palm. This seemed to happen every time Minho would touch your bump.

“Ouch” you frowned.

“Baby, you’re gonna hurt mommy if you keep that up.” He whispered, continuing to massage the spot before returning the hand on the wheel.

“I can’t believe she’s going to be here soon.” You whispered as well, making Minho raise a brow at you.

“She? I thought you said you didn’t know?”

“I don’t.” You smiled. “But I just have a feeling that it’s a she… I don’t know why.”

“A baby girl… that’s sweet.” He smiled gently. “What do you want to call her?”

“I don’t know… Haven’t thought much…”

“What about Amelia?” he suggested. “It’s beautiful.”

“Amelia… I love it.” You looked down at your bump and felt tears pricking your eyes again. How you wished you could only have happy memories like this.

Should you tell Minho that you were preparing to leave? That you would no longer weigh down on him?

“Anyway,” he started, “We’re almost there.”

You were glad he interrupted the moment, for you were not ready to face the harsh reality that was to come, and you were not ready to tell him anything.

~

Grandma’s house was bigger than you expected, and, as Minho said, deep into the forest, beautiful mountains covered in snow surrounding it.

He fidgeted the keys in his hands and finally found the one he was looking for, unlocking the front door with ease.

“Grandma! It’s Minho! I’m home! Oh, hello Mrs. Young. Long time no see!” He smiled politely as an older woman came to welcome you, taking Minho into her embrace.

“Minho, what an unexpected sight! Grandma will be very happy to see you! And who might this young lady be?” she smiled brightly, noticing you and your cute baby bump.

“This is Dal-Rae. Dal-Rae, this is Mrs. Young, she takes care of my grandma. She truly has superpowers!” He chuckled, making the lady blush.

“Oh, you’re too sweet! I’m just doing the job you pay me to do!” she smiled, then turned her eyes on you. “You two look very good together! You found yourself a very beautiful girl, Minho. Grandma will be so proud of you. And a baby on the way? Congratulations! I bet you can’t wait to meet the little bean!”

“Yeah, we really can’t wait!” he smiled brightly and placed his hand on the small of your back, the proximity startling you a bit.

“Did you think of names already?”

“Oh, not really, we-”

“Amelia. Her name will be Amelia.” You interrupted Minho and took the liberty to hug his side, smiling, trying to live the fantasy that you were indeed family for just a little while. After all, he’s the one who started it, why not take advantage of it?

It wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?...

“Oh my, Minho! It shows just how much you love your grandma, considering you want to call the baby after her. She will be so happy to hear it, I’m sure.” The woman had tears in her eyes and came closer to the two of you again, taking both into her embrace.

“Now, come on, let’s go visit her as well. I’ve already been away from her long enough.” She wiped her tears from her cheeks and guided you to one of the rooms in the house, at the far end of the hallway.

“Ma’am, your grandkid is here to visit, and he has a special guest!”

“Hey grandma! How are you doing?” Minho spoke cheerfully and approached the lady that was rocking back and forth on a chair and crocheting something, crunching down in front of her. He received no response, the lady not seeming to be aware of anyone else’s presence in the room.

Minho signalled you to come, so you followed his lead and came close to grandma.

“Hello. My name is Dal-Rae.” you introduced yourself shily, not knowing what to expect.

To your surprise, however, she turned to you, as if she suddenly had a revelation.

“Baby.” She smiled, pointing to your belly. “Baby.” She repeated, seemingly happy.

“Yes, grandma, it’s a baby. We’re naming her after you.”

“Hm?” She looked at Minho and then around her, confused about her surroundings. Then, she resumed rocking on the chair and busying her hands with the yarn.

“Sorry, Minho, she’s been getting worse as of late…” Miss Young placed her hand on his shoulder, to which he replied with a simple sigh. “I can assure you she’s glad you’re here, but…”

“No, that’s okay. I’m glad to see her still relatively healthy. We’ll be staying until Monday, if you don’t mind.”

“How could I? This is your home, Minho! Please, let me know if I can do anything to help make your stay more pleasant.”

“No worries, we can handle ourselves just fine.” He got up and came to you, grabbing your hand and guiding you out of the room and down the long hallway.

“Are you okay…?” you asked as soon as Minho opened the door to one of the bedrooms at the other end of the hall. You couldn’t be indifferent to the frown that made its way on his otherwise perfectly composed face.

“… It’s just hard seeing her like that, you know?”

“Mhm. I know…”

“It hurts that she can’t even remember me.”

He took a few steps forward, his back now turned to you, but you heard the pain in his words, no matter how collected his voice sounded.

You weren’t sure what to do – or rather, if what you were about to do was right – but without much thinking, your arms found their way around Minho’s frame, meeting halfway in front of his abdomen, and you embraced him tightly, whispering softly:

“I’m sure it’s hard.”

You rested your head on his back, grateful that he didn’t reject you.

“And I’m sure it hurts badly. But even if she doesn’t always remember you, you’re still her favourite.”

You continued speaking gently, hearing a small sniffle come from him.

“It will be okay.” You whispered.

“It won’t… I don’t think she has much left, Dal-Rae …”

“Then, I’m glad we came. You got to see her again after all this time, so the trip was worth it, right?”

“What will I do once she…? I will be all alone…”

“You won’t... look at you, you have so many friends… Jisung, Chris, Hyunjin… everyone cares about you so much… you will never be alone, Minho, there are so many people who love you and treasure you.”

“You think so?”

“Mm. I know so. I saw it.” You smiled genuinely. “I’m even jealous, I wish I had such real friends.”

“Dal-Rae.” he took your arms away gently and turned to face you. Traces of wet tears painted his now rosy cheeks, and you couldn’t help placing your hands on them, wiping everything away. You wished things were this easy; that you could’ve wiped away all his pain with just your fingertips.

This gesture seemed to shock both of you, as you quickly retracted your hands and smiled briefly, looking at your feet on the ground and starting to feel stupid for harbouring so many feelings for him.

It wasn’t right. You kept telling yourself that.

It wasn’t.

But how could it be any other way, when he’s been the centre of your universe ever since you stepped foot in his restaurant, ever since he selflessly offered you food and a place to sleep, ever since he treated you and the baby inside of you like his own family?

Fuck, how could it be any other way?

How couldn’t you love him?

Love… yes. You finally gave it a name. You couldn’t avoid it any longer. It was already real for far too long for you to try to keep ignoring it.

It was love. You loved him.

“Dal-Rae,” he said once again, drawing your attention back to him.

“Hm?” you asked, unsure.

“Thank you.” He grabbed your hands and held them firmly. “Thank you for saying that. Are you also one of those people?”

He was the one to grab your face this time, wiping tears away from your cheeks. You didn’t even realise you’ve been crying. The only thing you knew was that it hurt seeing Minho like that.

“Of course I am, Minho. How could I not be? To me, you are…” everything – you wanted to say, but the possibility of rejection frightened you too much. It once again felt too unfair to dump your feelings on him, to force them down his throat, you considered. – “… a very important part of my life. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and I… I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

It was true, you didn’t know. You also didn’t know what you were going to do without him in the future, when you would leave – in just a few weeks, before the birth.

You didn’t know, nor did you want to think about it, for it made your heart break harder than it ever did until now, and God knows you had your fair share of pain and suffering.

“You are very dear to me, too.” He replied, moving his hands from your cheeks to your hands, squeezing them. “And I hope you know that I will always be a real friend to you. I will be there for you when you need me. Always.”

That was it. Hearing him say that out loud managed to finally tear down your walls and make you break down in front of him. If up until now, you’ve been crying silently for his pain, his words made you sob loudly for your own.

You wanted to tell him everything, to confess your love for him, but you knew you couldn’t. Instead, you just sobbed.

Sobbed, sobbed, sobbed, unable to stop the tears from falling.

“I- I’m sorry, I’m just so… touched. I can’t thank you enough, and…”

“Shhh, that’s okay.” This time, he was the one to embrace you tightly, caressing your head, trying to get you to calm down.

He placed one hand on your cheek again and lifted your head. The proximity of your faces made your heart beat so quickly, so irregularly, you were afraid it would jump out of your chest.

Glancing deeply into his brown eyes, you felt safe and content that he was at least your friend. Having him as a friend was better than not having him at all.

His eyes were also fixated on yours. What he was thinking – you wouldn’t know. But you made a terrible mistake, your gaze dropping to his lips that were so close to your own, it made you dizzy. You were quick to realise your mistake, bringing your eyes back to his, but it was far too late, for the damage was already done - you became flustered, and he noticed.

And then, just as you were thinking of what to say to get out of his proximity, to get some room to breathe before your cheeks turned even redder than they definitely were – he pressed his lips firmly on yours.

God only knows how much you wished for his kiss, so, as unfairly as you felt it was towards him, you allowed yourself to close your eyes and kiss him back.

Just this time, you thought, and I will let him go.

~

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

[povlvr]

8 • Savoury Encounters | YLGSE

Pairing: Mob Boss Bucky x Baker Reader

Summary: Getting your mind off the Mob Boss proves harder than it looks, a welcomed distraction comes from a new staff member downloading Tinder but will the date go well?

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: Swearing, NSFW, love bombing, betrayal, swearing, slightly horny thoughts, Mob Boss Bucky, Mob Business, stalking,

A/N: Thank you all for reading, I am never going to get over Seb’s look for the Sharper premier, it was everything I never knew I needed so I had to use the picture!!

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

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After the late-night kitchen rendezvous you needed to get your mind off the mobster, anything to help stop yourself over analysing why you had been incredibly turned from your last encounter & why you kissed him back whenever his lips had touched yours, you weren’t willing to give him a pass on his behaviour, but your lips really couldn’t deny that you wanted him. 

A welcomed distraction came in the form of MJ, Peter’s wonderfully obtuse girlfriend who needed a job & just like her boyfriend she was way too smart to be working for you, however you snapped up her offer of assistance like it was gold dust. The sheer relief in having two such capable staff members meant you could actually leave the bakery during day light hours, finally return home at the end of the day & attempt to sort out your life somewhat.

Having Peter around really didn’t help your attempts to build you walls back up when it came to Bucky, especially with him constantly talking about the mobster paying for his tuition & what a good guy he was for doing it, thankfully MJ having been caught up with everything that happened between you would steer his enthusiasm back to less touchy subjects for you. 

You appreciated her unwavering stance that you could do better, most evenings she opted to stay after Peter had done the deliveries to sit with you as you prepped for the following day, helping when needed & meddling in your love life when not. Tinder had been downloaded to your phone after three days of her working in the bakery, she’d sit & swipe, let you dictate messages & ignore others on your behalf as though she was your dating fairy god mother.

Bucky wisely kept himself scarce, as requested the gifts stopped, a polaroid of the Mobster handing over a big novelty cheque to the children’s hospital arrived, you couldn’t help the smile taking over your face & perhaps keeping it on your desk probably wasn’t the best idea but he looked so grumpy & ridiculous in equal measures. Of course the flowers kept arriving, those were non-negotiable, but you didn’t much mind, it kept the bakery nicely topped up & your living space full of the joys of spring even if you didn’t quite feel it.

With business running smoothly you finally had time to focus on the absolute state of yourself, you decided to have an afternoon away from the bakery to indulge in a well needed manicure & haircut, annoyingly when it came to pay, Bucky had somehow already taken care of it, you wondered if you should you text him to say thank you? Another welcomed distraction to keep you from reaching for your phone was the Pilates class you had booked in an attempt to fix all the tension & knots in your muscles from the last few weeks of stress.

When you arrived at the studio the session was completely empty, there was just you & Sage your instructor which suited you just fine, she was expensive but the best, a one on one lesson felt like an absolute treat & she graciously tailored the workout to your ailments seen as though it was just the two of you.

After about 10 minutes of adjustments & stretches you heard the door to the studio open, you were concentrating on your manoeuvre with your leg high in the air supported by the stirrup, in warriors pause with your face angled down holding your core tight to stop you slipping.

The sight of two large feet appeared in your peripheral vision, they almost looked comical in the Pilates socks with the toes all separated wiggling under your gaze, you didn’t mind sharing the session of course, but they were standing far too closely for your liking, you kept your head down minding your business until the familiar scent hit you, it was unmistakable; spice, woods, peat, James.

‘Bunny.’

Maybe if you didn’t acknowledge him he wouldn’t actually be there? It wasn’t a good plan, but it was all you had, you weren’t so lucky of course & you felt his finger hook under your chin lifting it up to face him, there the pools of ocean were, staring at you hungrily, the crystal blue eyes you had missed … not missed, nothing’d … you nothing’d him.

Despite the socks, the sight before you was frustratingly hot, his usual suit was replaced with a black skin tight muscle tee, giving you the perfect view of his tattoo’d arm & firm abs, the basketball shorts however, were far too loose for your liking, surely Pilates should have a lycra only policy, for safety reasons?

‘Kind of concentrating here James.’ You voice strained as you worked to hold the machine steady, one slip & you’d fall flat on your face.

‘Can see that Sugar, just wanted to see those beautiful eyes.’

Sage came to your rescue slapping his arm away from you & ordering him to his area, you shot him a warning look, so that he would behave around the instructor, the last thing you wanted was to be banned from the only exercise you could stand. He positioned himself on his own apparatus, of course he was a natural & needed very few adjustments compared to you & of course he stared constantly at you making no subtleties about adjusting himself in his shorts when you happened to glance over, chuckling to himself as you rolled your eyes.

Coming to the end of your session you could almost forget who was next to you, once you had managed to block out his very audible grunting, did it turn you into a feral mess? Yes. Would you let it bother you? Also yes, but it wasn’t going to make you crumble, until he started to talk to you.

‘How’ve you been sweetheart.’

‘Fine.’

He chuckled at your very sharp response, he didn’t miss the subtle clenches & the imperceptible gulps after every groan he let out, you were flustered & he was going to make sure to capitalise on it, ‘Heard you finally have another pair of hands.’

‘I do.’

‘Working out for ya?’

‘Yep.’

‘Your hair looks nice.’

Your head shot to the side to glare at him angrily, he surrendered his hands, ‘Just sayin’, glad you’re taking care of yourself.’

‘Would have got a colour if I knew you were paying.’

‘Go back Sugar I’ll make sure there’s an appointment free.’

You cursed yourself for the corner of your mouth betraying you by almost smiling, he just looked so enthused & eager to please. Doubling down you stopped what you were doing folding your arms in somewhat of a huff ‘What you doing here Bucky?’

‘Working out, been in a few scuffles lately, really thrown out my balance.’

You rolled your eyes at his excuse, ‘& conveniently we so happen to be in the same place at the same time, all alone too;’

‘I hadn’t noticed.’

‘Sure you didn’t.’

‘What can I say, when you’re in the room all I can focus on is you.’

Damn he’s smooth.

‘Shame the same can’t be said for when I’m not in the room, hmm?’

The cockiness faltered on his face at your dig, then a little smirk right in the corner of his mouth appeared, he loved you challenging him & that you weren’t afraid to stand up to him. Dismounting his apparatus, he wiped down his glistening face, then approached crouching down in front of you, clutching your face as was customary when he was within touching distance.

‘I can’t begin to convey how sorry I am for that Bunny, I know I can’t take it back, but I can certainly show you that it will never happen again.’ The sincerity in his eyes captivated yours & his tongue darting out to wet his lips thoroughly had you in a trance. He stood you up & wrapped his arms around you in a tight firm hug, it felt incredibly comforting after a few weeks of feeling so unsettled, despite him being the one that caused it all a win was a win & a hug was a hug & he was so good at them. 

It felt incredible to have you in his arms again, he was trying to be patient & give you space but the thought of you in your Pilates outfit, bending over, stretching was too tempting to pass up so he booked all the slots in your session that were free, then got Clint to pay off the others so he’d have you all to himself & now you were here, in his arms. He could easily take another step & kiss you, but he didn’t want to push his luck & told himself you would make the move when you wanted it, it wasn’t fair on you to get so serious so quickly.

Instead he kissed your temple softly & with a ‘I’ll see you soon Bunny’ slipped out the studio. 

Discombobulated, that’s what he made you, from afar you could keep your composure, but up close you melted & then cursed yourself for it, why did he have to smell so good, why did he have to look so perfect all the time & why did he look even hotter with cuts & bruises?

All you were doing was getting him out your system, a simple dinner date with a Tinder match you had been talking with, or more accurately MJ had been talking with so there was no need to be nervous. Micky, … no Mike sounded & looked nice enough, but you just weren’t feeling it, cursing yourself for being hung up on someone who you shouldn’t be, you needed a pallet cleanse because said some set your body on fire whenever you thought about him, surely that would stop eventually, right?

You waited outside the restaurant for him to show up, your dress was cute, not too slutty not too boring, the perfect first date outfit you had picked out the day before, an outfit that Bucky somehow paid for. You didn’t quite know how he managed to orchestrate paying for literally anything you had to buy since the ménage à trois on his lap in the club, it was slightly impressing you at this point that whenever you went to check out you would be told the item had been paid for courtesy of Mr Barnes, groceries, coffees, tampons all bought & paid for by James.

You felt guilty he was buying your outfit for a date & even more guilty for wearing the emerald necklace but damn it, it went with everything & you know what fuck him, it serves him right. Your feelings towards him were a rollercoaster most of the time & you were beginning to own it, if he wanted to waste his money on you, so be it.

A subtle cough brought you out of your internal debating about the Mob Boss & you were met with your date stood in front of you, he was handsome enough, shorter than his profile let on & shorter than you would usually go for, but he had a kind smile & generally nice presence about him.

‘Wow, you are a knock out, they’ll be asking me how much I’m paying for ya.’

Your eyes went wide at the insinuation.

‘…. Not that you look like a hooker, just you are way outta my league.’

He was practically red as a tomato as he continued spluttering out words, you’d stop him, but you were speechless & not in a good way.

‘… not that there’s anything wrong with hookers, you just aren’t one … that I know of.’

You giggled, more so out of awkward pity than because it was funny, MJ was getting a text at the first possible second you could send it & if it got any worse you’d hit code red for Wanda to ring you with an emergency.

‘Relax, it’s fine, I knew what you meant.’ You gestured to the door, ‘shall we?’

He powered ahead letting himself through the door & barely kept it open for you as he walked into the restaurant, by no means were you old fashioned & expected men to open doors for you or even a staunch feminist who insisted on opening them yourself, but if you’re on a date you thought you should at least make sure you keep it open, otherwise it’s just rude. You brain was fighting the urge to compare & contrast him to Bucky, a man who literally sulked when you opened a door for yourself once before he had chance to hop out of the car & do it for you.

Still, you gave him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he was nervous & didn’t realise you nearly face planted the glass, the restaurant was a quaint Italian family run business, they were always your favourite type of places with the best kind of food, so you loved the suggestion & of course looked ahead on the menu to decide on what you were having. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the memo & when the waitress came to get your drink orders he swooped in & decided you were both having the set menu with water. 

Your shoulders slumped & you knew this would be a long night, how the hell could MJ think you would be compatible with the guy who ordered the set menu? You’d happily pay the bill if it meant you got the garlic rosemary ravioli & a nice glass of wine, maybe you should have offered before he opened his stupid mouth.  

Bucky had been sat watching the entire night, from the awkward meeting outside where he was sure he called you a hooker to the absolute cheap skate option inside, you were lowering your standards for him so he was on the brink of threatening to break the guy’s fingers to make him reach into his dust filled wallet & treat you how you should be treated. Instead, he took the high road, telling the waitress on her way to the kitchen to ignore what the chump ordered for you, he was self-aware enough to acknowledge that he was doing the exact same as your date by ordering your food for you, but after countless conversations he knew you would skip the starter, pick the ravioli & have two deserts plus a crisp white wine to compliment the main. 

He settled the bill with a generous tip adding a full bottle of wine extra for top ups, you look like you would need it with Mark, the accountant who made less than you, played squash every Tuesday & masturbated to missionary porn once a week. Peter had run a background check on him despite trying to protest that you’d be mad at him, all that came up was a parking ticket when he was 19, the only thing he was guilty of was having the audacity to message you, he was far too tame & vanilla for you, you needed fire.

You were already bored with the very dull conversation on offer when the waitress approached, she practically slammed a glass of water by him & then your eyes lit up as a very full glass of wine was placed gently in front of you.

Your date almost looked incensed at the mistake like it was the end of the world if you had a glass of wine, ‘She didn’t order this, we’re not paying for it.’

You scoffed at the we’re, if we’re paying for it, you better believe I’m going to be drinking it pal.

The waitresses very sour expression towards him turned almost gleeful as she said ‘I believe the bill has already been settled.’

Your blood ran somewhat cold, not chilly enough to forgo tasting the drink sat in front of you of course, but your eyes darted around the restaurant over the glass as subtly as possible until they landed on a pair of azure ones staring at you, their owner looking mightily pissed off. Your face muscles were working overtime to stifle your smile as you enjoyed the crisp fresh cold delight you had been served, you didn’t know why he was there, or how he knew you were there, but you were going to find out, was it weird you were looking forward to shouting at him?

The waitress added with a smirk, ‘Your meal has been changed to the à la carte menu.’

Mike looked angrier & angrier at you, like you had secretly switched his choices to the expensive ones, ‘Why, what is going on, who the hell switched it?’

You took a big swig of the liquid in your glass for a bit of courage before dabbing the corners of your mouth with your napkin & getting up from the table, ‘Excuse me for a second will you, just need to wash my hands before we eat.’

Walking towards the bathroom you knew you would pick up a shadow on the way, were you even mad? You didn’t know the honest answer, the dullness of the date certainly had taken an interesting turn & there might have been a sight thrill running through your veins at the prospect of another encounter with the Mob Boss but on the other hand him showing up everywhere was entering stalker territory & that needed to stop.

You didn’t even have time to berate him before he pinned you against the wall, ‘Him? Really Bunny?’

‘Don’t fucking start Bucky, what the fuck are you doing here?’

‘Making sure you’re being treated properly; you wanted the ravioli right?’

He looked so smug as he leaned in, practically connecting your mouths as you were pressed into the wall & that magnetism you felt pulled you to the brink of just surrendering to it, you wanted him to just take you at this point, you could feel your whole-body pulsing from the anticipation. The waitress stood watching & you didn’t even care, he could have fucked you against the wall & you’d let her watch if it meant you could have him at that very second.  What was wrong with you?

You nodded, noses brushing & despite you trying your best to not encourage his crazy behaviour you threw him a bone, ‘thank you for the food & the wine.’

‘Will always take care of you sweetheart, I’m letting you have your space Bunny & letting you have your fun but know that I’m not happy about this. I think you enjoy torturing me, I told you you’re mine.’ He closed the gap & finally connected your lips in a heated exchange, you should have pushed him away, you should have stopped yourself moaning into his mouth & clutching his face in your hands, but you didn’t, you allowed him to take over until you finally pulled away.

‘Crashing my date isn’t giving me space.’ You gestured to the table raising your brow ‘& you call that fun?’ You slipped out of his grasp & walked back to your date without so much of a glance back in his direction knowing he wouldn’t be far behind. 

There was no way in hell Bucky would let you have the last word after that scorching kiss, that pathetic cheap skate you were with needed to know you were off limits so he was hot on your tail weaving through the restaurant, the satisfaction of seeing Miles’ face freeze in fear was more satisfying than it would be killing him.

With not so much of an invite he pulled out a chair & sat down next to you at the table, ‘Enjoying yourselves?’

Glancing towards him you gritted your teeth, yeah, the date was boring & you’d never see him again, but you didn’t want him getting himself killed for saying the wrong thing, ‘Bucky, be nice.’

‘Why? Wasn’t behaving back there was I Bunny?’ 

You swiftly elbowed him in his side.

‘Who’s Bunny?’

Bucky clenched his jaw that the imbecile dared speak in his presence, ‘The stunning woman you somehow think you’re good enough to go with on a date with, doesn’t she look beautiful tonight? Forgot to tell you earlier Sugar, the dress, the hair, the necklace, exquisite.’

‘Ye-yes she does, still don’t understand the Bunny.’

As monotone & menacing as possible he spat out, ‘Her bakery is called Honey Bunny’s Bakery.’

‘I – I didn’t know.’ You closed your eyes at that admission, you’re on your own Miles, told you about 3 times.

‘You didn’t know it was called that or you didn’t know she had a bakery.’ It suddenly felt like an interrogation, you wondered what was wrong with you for being so attracted to his absolute dominance over another man. 

‘th … the second one.’

He fully turned to you, ‘Jesus, I’ll say it again, him really?’

You were trying not to smile at the incredulous expression on his face or the inflection in his voice, ‘Enough James, leave us to our date & I will see you soon.’

‘Music to my ears gorgeous.’ He leaned down pressing a kiss on the top of your head & you couldn’t take your eyes off him as he left with a panty dropping wink.

You turned back to Mike, the awkwardness even more awkward than ever, silence hung over you both before you spoke up, ‘Sorry about that, just ignore him’

‘Spend a lot of time with Mob Bosses?’

‘I aim not to, he can’t take no for an answer.’ 

‘Clearly. How do you know him?’

You sighed, you came on this date to try & distract yourself yet somehow were now being questioned about him, ‘It’s a long story.’

The waitress was back handing him the pate starter, you shuddered at the thought of eating it, thanking the food gods for Bucky switching your order.

He suddenly looked smug & it didn’t suit his face at all, ‘Didn’t even bother to get you a starter.’

You nodded, ‘mm-huh, he knows I wouldn’t want one.’ You resisted crossing your arms in an annoyed huff for thinking Bucky didn’t know you well enough to order you one, why were you so defensive about him all of a sudden?

‘So he knows you well?’

You shrugged, yes, ‘No, not that well, he just pays attention.’

‘Well you’re missing out this is incredible.’

You didn’t do a good job of hiding the disgust on your face at him calling meat paste incredible, as he crunched it through his teeth on the French toast, each to their own but really? MJ was officially fired as your dating fairy godmother.

The rest of the date was as dull as dishwater, he was just so bland & you noticed the judgemental eyes when the two desserts landed on the table that Bucky had ordered & you subsequently devoured. You felt like slapping him across the face with the fact that you own a bakery, you make desserts for a living so of course you like to try as many as possible for inspiration & you didn’t need him assessing your figure like he was calculating some kind of equation about cakes eaten to the power of body weight divided by age in which she’ll let herself go, ugh. 

Standing on the sidewalk in the brisk air you were planning your getaway, ‘Thanks for a nice night’

‘Hmm yeah. Look. I’ve been thinking it over & I think it’s best if we leave it here.’

You weren’t at all bothered at the thought it never seeing his boring ass again but pretty pissed that you didn’t get to tell him that first. 

He must have thought you were struggling to comprehend it as you seethed internally, ‘Yeah I mean I don’t want to end up missing a finger or be found in the Hudson. Your Bucky Barnes’ girl.’

‘I am not his girl. Don’t listen to him’ why were you sounding like you were desperate & wanted another date, you absolutely didn’t but didn’t want him to have the final say, you wanted to be the dumper not the dumpee.

‘Who gave you the necklace?’

You rolled your eyes, ‘Him. Why does that matter?’ 

‘Look you’re nice & all but just not work the risk, maybe if you were a bit more interesting you would be, but you aren’t.’

He practically ran away down the street, You. We’re. Pissed & needed to shout at someone, there was only one person on your radar that very moment. 

You flew in his office, not bothering to knock or to be welcomed in, there was a drink poured waiting for you & you were on the brink of throwing it at him, instead you downed it, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you gasped & grimaced from the taste.

He stood in his all-black outfit, the turtleneck with the tailored suit was a lethal combination, without the trench coat he had on earlier you could see the shape of his physique better & with his beard growing out wonderfully he looked the sexiest you’d seen him. You suddenly regretted coming, being alone in his office wasn’t the best idea especially when just the sight of him made you want to get down on your knees.

You powered through those thoughts, ‘This is my actual life, not some fucking movie James, you need to accept that I said no & stop whatever it is that you’re doing. The paying for everything, showing up everywhere, threatening my dates, it’s got to stop.’

‘No.’

‘It’s not a question. We’re not children James, you can’t just pull my pigtails for attention & expect me to come running.’ 

He reached out to pull you closer, ‘You into that sort of thing Sugar, I can tug on your hair til you’re screaming.’

‘Don’t.’ You managed to keep him at bay, arm’s length, arm’s length, arm’s length.

‘Come on Bun, give me a break, I see someone with my girl I’m not going to sit & do nothing especially when he’s not treating her right, did he call you a hooker?’

‘Firstly, I’m not your girl, so don’t even go there, & the hooker thing was because he was nervous & insinuated people would think he paid for me, that wasn’t even the worst bit.’

‘What did he do?’

‘Said I wasn’t interesting enough to take the risk of being with me, like I’d waste my time on him.’

‘I’ll fucking kill him.’

‘No, you won’t. If you hadn’t have turned up, I wouldn’t have gone on another date with him, he wasn’t good enough for me.’

‘Well, we can all agree on one thing, don’t pretend you didn’t like me happening to be there, switching your food & our kiss.’

‘So, you just happen to be there? hmm why were you even there & the truth, you couldn’t have seen him call me a hooker from inside the restaurant.’

 ‘Ok, don’t get mad, I’ve been having a couple of my men keep tabs on you, just so I know you’re safe.’

You stepped further back from him, mind in overdrive trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle that had been bugging you all week, it suddenly all made sense, ‘That’s how you kept paying for my appointments & clothes.’

‘Gotta say Bunny it took a lot not to lose it knowing I was paying for a dress for a date with another man, in fact, take it off so I can throw it in the fire, you’re not wearing that again.’

‘Don’t you even dare try & say something like that to me, did I ask you to buy it for me? Jesus what is wrong with you? One day you’re nice & normal & then the next a stalking possessive weirdo.’

‘It’s not stalking if I don’t do it personally Bunny.’

‘Of course it is you idiot, you’re telling me you’ve never stopped by & watched me at work?’

He stepped closer, eyes darkening as he yet again pulled you into him, brushing your hair behind your ear, leaning in, ‘Of course I have.’

‘See stalker.’

‘Oof you’re smart, just making sure you’re safe, can’t sleep if I don’t know you’re safe, you really shouldn’t take the subway, let me get you a driver.’

You shook your head again fighting yourself not to smile, ‘How can you say such nice things & at the same time be so widely inappropriate.’

‘You drive me crazy Sugar.’

‘Ditto.’

Your mouths found each other, frantically devouring one another like they were your last moments on earth, hands roaming around, feeling like he was too close yet not close enough, you needed to leave before you gave in completely.

His face looked pained when you pulled away, chasing your lips with his to taste you that second longer but you managed to evade them shaking your head & returning to your senses. ‘I should go.’

It felt like déjà vu seeing MJ bright eyed & bushy tailed waiting outside the bakery to hear the gossip from your date & as much as you were trying not to, you were missing Yelena. MJ & Peter were a literal god send & incredibly fun to work with, their dynamic complimented yours completely but sometimes, you needed someone to boss you into doing tasks you were avoiding or someone to tell you to get a grip. 

‘So, how’d it go?’

You crouched down to unhook the roller shutters, straining as you wiggled the latch whilst explaining your catastrophically disastrous evening to the person somewhat responsible, ‘Let’s see, he insinuated I was a hooker, ordered the set menu & water for me, Bucky showed up & reordered my meal but there was wine that time, he both annoyed & impressed me that he got it spot on, so that bit was fine I guess, then when I went to shout at him, he pinned me against a wall, kissed me, paid for the meal, then made it clear to Miles ..’

‘Mike.’ 

‘Yeah Mike, that I was his so stay away & then the guy, who was the worst by the way proceeded to tell me I wasn’t worth the hassle then ran away. Literally took off down the street as fast as his shorter than advertised legs could carry him.’

She grimaced as you finished off rattling off the disastrous evening, ‘Jesus.’

‘Yeah, then I stormed into the Mob Boss’ office, shouted at him, he told me he stalks me in not so many words, we kissed again, I left & here I am.’

Just as you finished your rant you opened the door to the bakery, squinting in the darkness you could see something wasn’t right, your foot hit something not quite solid not quite soft, blindly feeling for the panel you turned on the switch & illuminated the bakery.

The entire floor was covered in bouquets of flowers, on every single surface there was a floral display of some sort, every type of flower available to man upon your initial assessment, somehow amongst the chaos you could tell there was a disproportionate amount of your favourite flowers compared to the rest.

‘I don’t think we need to guess as to who did this?’

You laughed, ‘Clearly Mikey’

‘Mike.’

‘Yeah him. Jesus, definitely not Bucky.’

‘Now seems like a good time to see if you can get him to pay for my tuition too, the man has got it bad.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ You laughed trying to wrap your mind around what you were looking at & how you could deal with it. ‘What the fuck, what the fuck are we meant to do with all of these flowers? There’s barely any room to move.’

MJ stood working out a path she could take to the counter knowing turning the coffee machine & making you one was the priority while you got your plan sorted in your head, ‘You don’t seem very mad, I can see your smile trying to escape, don’t pretend it isn’t.’

‘It’s not from happiness, I am freaking out right now.’

‘How did he even get in?’

‘Peter?’

‘No, he tries not to tell him anything when he rings everyday to check on you.’ MJ slapped her hand across her mouth like it was some sort of secret, of course he did. You had thought maybe Peter was the one telling him where you were going all the time, so that he could ring ahead & pay but after the conversation the previous night you knew differently, maybe they were still watching.

‘I guessed he was a mole the second he turned up the day after Bucky had his lap dance.’

‘What we gonna do with all these? there’s no room for customers.’

You stood tapping your head, as though a plan would formulate by magic, ‘Ok first things first, we run a promotion free flowers with every coffee if people want them, I’ll update the sign outside. Ring Peter, he can deliver some to the hospital & to the old folks place who order from us a lot, we’ll keep a few in here but the majority can go outside the front for people to take & then I’ll take a few for upstairs.’

‘On it boss,’ her phone was at her ear instantaneously as you slowly tried to create a path to any areas you needed.’ When you managed to gain entrance to your office the biggest bouquet sat on your desk with yet again another note & black velvet box.’

‘Bunny, I didn’t mean to upset you by, in my own way trying to keep you safe & taken care of. It’s not my intention to stalk you or make you uncomfortable, I know you don’t want me to come by & visit so it’s my way of making sure you’re ok & to spend that minute of time I wish I could with you, it’s my little moment of peace in the day when I get to look at your beautiful face. Every single petal on every single flower can’t even represent how sorry I am. I will make sure you are always safe, but I will try my best to not cross anymore boundaries when doing so. Please accept these earrings to go with your necklace, don’t think I’ve not noticed that you wear it every day & that very thought keeps my heart beating.’

You wondered how a man could be so entirely sweet one minute & then wildly inappropriate the next, like there was some dark entity within him that came out at night or whenever you challenged him, yes it was hot, but it gave you whiplash most of the time. He was just so intense & it was addictive because you should have been overwhelmed by it all & want to run the other way, but you could feel a part of you fighting out all reasoning & logic to just go with it.

You shook it off, he may be breaching some walls you’d erected but you couldn’t help being pissed off at the extra work of clearing up the shop would take, plus prayed that none of your customers had a pollen allergy, they’d go into anaphylactic shock the second they walked through the front door.

A hectic morning later you finally had some respite, your customers thankfully lapped up the freebies on offer with their orders, you saw fresh faces once word had spread & the number of bouquets had reduced drastically. You slipped out once it had quietened down & plucked a particular bunch off the side, you didn’t visit his grave often, you were surrounded by him everyday enough, talking to him when it got that bit too quiet at night but if ever there were a good excuse it was today. 

Of course, Bucky had already been, or whoever flower bombed your existence on his behalf, there on your father’s headstone sat a huge bunch of sunflowers, you were quickly learning that you really couldn’t escape the Mob Boss but is a man who goes to such lengths to prove himself someone you should be escaping? 

The smile on your face was the first time you probably had ever felt an ounce of happiness stood there, of course you wish your dad was around to tell you to get a grip of yourself & that he wasn’t good enough for you, but he’d say that of anyone. You found a headstone that looked a little neglected & took the time to remove some of the old flowers & moss that had grown setting down the surplus bunch in your hands, taking a little moment to look over the name & details of who you were giving the flowers to before you headed back to the bakery.

Bucky had stopped by to hopefully drop in when it was a little quieter, he loved that you changed your sign & gave away most of the flowers, everyone said it was a bad idea, but he didn’t care, he knew it would brighten your day a little at least. Somewhat expectedly you nipped out to the graveyard not far from your business, he may have spent a moment with your dad when he lay out the flowers, promising to look after you, to be better & the man you deserved. The smile on your face when you saw them made him almost get out & cash in on the good will but sitting in his car, he realised he didn’t need to, knowing you appreciated the gesture & paid it forward for someone else’s absent loved ones was enough. Before you could spot him, he started his engine & drove away, having been completely micro focused on every expression on your face, your body language & his general fixation on you he was oblivious to the two men in an unmarked car watching him, watching you.

They had seen the day unfold having heard from some sources that the King of Brooklyn had found his Queen, the abundance of flowers & him showing up confirmed the rumours, now all they needed to do was be patient & wait.

Your day was finally coming to a close, you had sent MJ & Peter on a delivery run, the odd customer was floating about & you were fine cleaning around them hoping they’d get the hint that you were closing soon, as you were taking stock of supplies underneath the counter you heard the bell ring, you popped your head up to tell whoever it was that you were closing, but you noticed the empty bakery save for the two gentlemen in pinstripe suits making their way over to you.

A/N

Thank you for reading!! Let me know what you think will happen!!

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[shediot]

CYCLICISM (SERIES)

CHAPTER 2: Jungkook’s Return II

SUMMARY —> Jungkook makes a wildly unexpected reentrance into your life, and, despite the less than ideal past you two share, this time you’re bound and determined to keep him in it — and to keep history from repeating itself.

TAGS —> 90s/00s, Estranged Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Flashbacks, Emotionally Constipated OC, Nicknamed OC, Jock OC, Jock Jungkook, OC has some physical attributes

WARNINGS —> Alcohol

WORD COUNT —> 6.5k

AO3

PREV | NEXT

Chin rested in the palm of your hand, you stare at the shelves of liquor behind the bar absentmindedly as the low, soulful sounds of R&B floats through the speakers.

“Um… Earth to Blue.”

You blink your way back to reality to find a small hand waving frantically in front of your face to grab your attention. You straighten yourself so you meet Park Jimin’s gaze, his light eyes fixed on you with concern. 

He purses his lip-glossed lips, clearly disapproving. “It’s weird for you to be so out of it.”

Clearing your throat, you straighten and take a swig of your water to wet your parched throat. “Right, I’m listening. You were saying?”

Jimin gives a roll of his eyes, making the burnt-orange, glittery eyeshadow sparkle in the low lighting of the bar. 

Joy splits a dark grin. “He wasn’t saying anything important. Just complaining about Dahyun for the nth time.”

“Not about her,” Jimin swiftly corrects. “She’s just been gone sooo long. I miss her.” He juts his glossed lips out into one of his signature cute pouts. The kind that could wrest anything he wanted from anyone. People tend to fall all over themselves to help him, when he looks at them like that. Jimin is just that good, that manipulative (and you say that in the most admiring of ways). Luckily for you, you’re immune to it.

So is Joy. “She’s been gone a week. You’re such an attention whore.”

Jimin levels Joy with a glare, and she breaks out into dark laughter. You smile at their familiar exchange, and while the two continue their typical light-hearted bickering, you turn to your side to face Namjoon, who is sitting next to you and regarding you with intense scrutiny.

It’s weird. “What?” you prod.

“You’re being oddly quiet.”

You shrug. “It’s been a weird day.”

Really weird. You’re sure adrenaline is still coursing through your veins after your dangerous slip today. A different kind of adrenaline races beside it whenever you think about the man who had inadvertently caused you to slip.

“Want to talk about it?” Namjoon asks, because of course he does.

You lift a brow.

He laughs. “Yeah, forget that. I’m here if you want to talk, though, you know.” He nudges you with his elbow: his small way of showing affection. 

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, babe,” you say, reaching over to pinch his cheek. 

He bats your hand away with soft laughter. 

After being your friend for eight years, Namjoon knows your tendencies more than well, and you know his. Odd as it is, you avoid verbal expressions of feelings. Namjoon avoids physical expressions of it. So the two of you try to meet in the middle. He sets aside his innate therapist-like tendencies where it comes to you (knowing it’s only a waste of time for the both of you, because you don’t budge), and you don’t press him for hugs. (Even if he’s a damn good hugger! Namjoon is a catch and a half).

Namjoon’s friendship is comfortable, easy. Stable and sure. Despite your significant and, quite frankly, vast differences and interests, the two of you have always gotten along well. 

You, Joy, Jimin and Namjoon were all housemates once. By chance, not choice: thrust into the same roommate housing just one week before you all went into freshman year of university.

It may have been chance and not choice that landed the four of you, strangers from different cities and different walks of life, together, but chance was ruled by lady luck you think, because you now love all three of them with a fervent passion. Now, eight years since the four of you met, and four years after graduation and leaving the house you had shared back then, you still stick together like stubborn glue. These three people comprise three out of four of your best friends, and the people you love most in the world. 

They’re your family. 

You’re especially grateful for the good luck that had placed Namjoon in the same house as you as freshmen. You’re not sure you’d have ever met him if not, and even if you had, if you two hadn’t been forced to live together for four years, you’re not sure you would have ever become friends. Namjoon’s  an intellectual; you’re an idiot. For him, working out is just something you do to be healthy. For you, it’s a lifestyle. Where he’s clumsy, you’re sharp, and vice versa.

Namjoon is very, very important to you — and so are Jimin and Joy, and so, even though you haven’t touched the drink in years, you still meet with them to go out with regularity. 

Yes, you avoid drinking now. You haven’t had a sip of the stuff since your college years, and you don’t plan on ever doing so again. Your inhibitions don’t even seem to exist once you get a few drinks in you, which had once been a good thing. A fun thing. The thing that made drinking fun. 

After making a few cosmically idiotic mistakes, though?

Keeping your wits about you is now of the utmost importance.

Plus, you still are a health nut. That’s the reason you give everyone, anyway, when you turn down offerings of alcohol and they inquire as to why: your health. It’s not a bad reason. Safe. Less private than the real one.

So, that leaves you here: in a bar, your glass of ice water sweating onto a coaster.

Namjoon isn’t much of a drinker either these days. He typically has a beer or two, at most three. Maybe he’ll knock back a shot or two of whiskey after a particularly rough day at the office.

Tonight, though, he nurses a half-drank lager, taking contemplative sips of it as silence drops over the both of you.

You want to tell everyone about Jungkook’s return, but… Everyone is going to be so weird about it. And you need a little extra normalcy right now, after the day you’ve had.

“How’s work?” you ask Namjoon, trying to drum up any sort of conversation to take your mind off him. “It must not be awful, considering you’re not downing Jim Beam right now.”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head down at his drink. A slight smile pulls at his lips, causing his signature dimples to make an appearance. “Remember last week?”

“Of course I remember,” you answer. Namjoon had been so stressed out over a case. The legal aides had screwed it up royally, nearly losing the firm he was employed to a high profile client. “You’re not drowning in whiskey and you don’t look like you’re about to combust from anger. So… My guess is things panned out?”

“And thank God they did,” Namjoon says, clearly relieved. “No, not God. Thank Park Jihyo.” Visible fondness lampshades his expression. There’s practically hearts in his eyes, for God’s sake.

You smile. Jihyo’s another junior attorney in his firm, and he always lights up so brightly like this when he speaks about her. The respect he has for her is so omnipresent and notable.

It’s almost a thing of envy. 

“Jihyo saved the day,” you guess with a knowing smirk.

“Try my career.” He takes a drink, eyes drifting off to the side as if rethinking his wording. “Okay, I’m exaggerating, but honestly... We were this close to losing the client.” He holds his forefinger and thumb a centimeter apart for good measure. “And all Jihyo had to do was talk to them.”

“Smooth-talking her way out of trouble?” You grin like a Cheshire cat. “I haven’t even had the pleasure of meeting her, and yet I think I love her already.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. He doesn’t share your same mild rebelliousness — he’s a forward-thinker, but almost always a follower of rules. “I don’t know how she did it, but she must’ve charmed the hell out of them, or pulled a miracle out of nowhere, or…” He shrugs his shoulders helplessly. “They told my senior attorney they’d stay as a client, but only if Jihyo was on their cases with us from now on.”

“The bright side, though, is that you get to work with Jihyo even more.” A sly smile slides its way onto your face as you waggle a brow at Namjoon. “Always a plus.”

He gives you a thoroughly unamused look. “Quit that, Blue. She’s a coworker.”

“And?”

“And, you can’t date a coworker. That’d…” He holds his hands out, somewhat franfically, a blush rising to his cheeks. “It would just wreak havoc on the workplace.”

You bite your straw as you grin at him cheekily. He so has a crush on her. “Fine, don’t date her. Just fuck her.”

Namjoon inhales deeply, leaning forward on his elbows. Pinching the bridge of his nose with his finger, he says, “I am not you. I don’t go around fucking people willy-nilly, without a care for the repercussions.”

Your smile fades. Only slightly. Barely. Instead of letting his harmless quip bother you, though, especially since you know it wasn’t intentional (and it’s also, you know, true), you snipe back, “Maybe she could unlodge that stick from your ass.”

“Har har,” he says, drily. “You think you’re so funny.”

You beam. 

“Whatever. We’re talking too much about me,” he says in a poor attempt at deflection. “What about you?”

You shrug. “Nothing new on my end at work.”

“Okay, then outside of work?”

“Yeah, Blue,” chimes in Jimin. “What about outside of work?”

At that change in subject, both Joy and Jimin look at you expectantly. Both with curious, invested looks.

You snort. Namjoon shares a knowing look with you. How very like the two to zone out of your conversation when you and Namjoon converse about work, only to jump back in when even the prospect of personal lives are mentioned.

Especially when it pertains to the romantic. Or sexual. For Namjoon, typically the former, rare as it is. For you, more often than not, the latter. Far less rare.

Well…

Unbidden, your mind conjures up an image of a dark mop of thick, wavy hair - of toned muscles and a cut jaw and pretty, sparkling eyes and tattoos. Jeon Jungkook, standing down below you at the rock climbing, looking up at you with clear nervousness and shock.

This is probably as good a time as any to inform them about his return. 

It’s pretty obvious none of them had heard news of his return to town yet. If they had, they would have been all over it, ambushing you for details about his arrival. So you feel satisfied, knowing you have a piece of thrilling information you can dangle before your waiting friends, like raw meat in front of bloodhounds. 

Jimin, prescient mind reader that he is and always has been, gives you a look. “What are you hiding?” he asks. “Spill.”

“You’ll never guess who came back to town. Like, permanently.”

“Oh my God, Blue, don’t make us play a game. Just say it,” says Joy exasperatedly, on the edge of her seat, ever the impatient one.

“Ugh, fine,” you say. “It’s Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Remember him? The guy who—”

“What?” Joy hisses, eyes wide. “You’re not serious.”

Jimin grabs hold of your arm and shakes it in excitement. “Since when? Why were you just sitting on this information?”

Even Namjoon’s eyes are comically wide as he stares at you in silence, slowly digesting the nugget of information you’d just plopped before them.

“You said this is a permanent move back?” he asks, clearly skeptical. 

“Yup. He got a job at Hanseu.”

“That’s right down the street from my firm,” Namjoon notes, raising his brow.

“Right up the road from Blue’s clinic,” reminds Jimin, looking at you with vibrating interest. Wow. You didn’t even know that Jungkook would be employed so close to your own job. “Jesus Fuck, this is exciting. How did you even hear? Did he…” He leans forward, eyes growing wide, “…Call you?”

Ha. The idea of Jungkook calling you is laughable, really. The line between the two of you has been disconnected for years, and he doesn’t even have your cell number. He once had your pager number, and the landline to the house on 8th street, where you and Namjoon, Jimin and Joy had lived, but neither of those exist anymore.

Years have passed. Things have changed. Technology, addresses, numbers: more things have changed than just you and Jungkook moving from friends to not friends.

“He showed up at my rock climbing gym,” you inform your nosy best friends. “Shocked the crap out of me, but… We talked. And then I asked if he wanted to hike with me tomorrow morning, so…” You hold your arms out, sure the rest of the story is pretty self-evident. Then you perk up, before your friends can interject, and say, “If any of you want to hike with us, do feel free to join. 6:00 A.M at Sangsaeng.”

“The nice trail that goes up the mountains?” Joy asks.

“Yup. That’s the one.”

“Who else is going?” presses Jimin, but there’s a glint to his eye that tells you he isn’t asking this all innocently. 

Joy, Namjoon and Jimin all stare at you with varying but intense levels of interest.

“Um,” you say. “All I know is that this week my usual hiking buddies all had other entanglements. Jungkook didn’t let me know if he was coming or not, so it may just be me in the end.” You shrug, unbothered. Whether you hike alone or with friends, you’re happy. Though you’d rather be with people, when you’re surrounded by nature, you’re never truly alone.

“I’ll go,” says Namjoon nonchalantly. “It’s been a while since we went hiking. I’m sure the fresh air will do me some good, especially with how stressful work was for a while there.”

Joy and Jimin swap one of their pointed glances, before Joy nudges Namjoon with her elbow. Very noticeably. “Blue should definitely go with just Jungkook,” she says, enunciating her words very slowly in the most blatantly obvious way without just coming out and calling Namjoon what she so clearly wants to: an oblivious third wheel.

You roll your eyes, but it clearly takes a second for realization to visibly dawn on Namjoon, his pupils dilating and mouth opening in a subtle ‘o’ before he turns to you, swallowing, and says, all rushed, “Um. Yeah. Uh… Never mind. I actually have plans.”

Namjoon is so bad at lying. You certainly love to tease him for it. “Oh, yeah? What are these ‘plans’, Joonie?”

He narrows his eyes, unamused. “Go-karting.”

You blow out a laugh, sitting back in your seat. “Guys, c’moooon. I know you want to see him. I’m sure he’d love to see you all, too. It’s been years.”

“You know what I want?” says Joy. “For you and Jungkook to reconcile.”

None of your friends know the source of your fallout with Jungkook, nor the gritty details.

You can be a very… private person. 

You wave her concern off. “There’s nothing to reconcile,” you lie, smoothly. “I invited him to hike with me, didn’t I?”

Jimin gives you a crinkly-eyed smile. “And that will make an amazing date for just the two of you.”

“It’s not a date,” you reply, exasperated. “It’s hiking. Nothing sexy or romantic about it.”

“Maybe not for us normal people. But for gym bros like you and Jungkook? It’s the equivalent of dinner and a movie.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” You look at Namjoon helplessly. “Tell Jimin he’s ridiculous.”

Namjoon holds his hands up. “Hey, what do I know? Jimin’s the relationship expert here.”

“Dude.” You sigh. Namjoon may be right — Jimin is a certified casanova, and Namjoon is an awkward, inexperienced cornball. Still. “That’s like calling working on a case with Jihyo a date.”

“Not equivalent,” Namjoon rebuts. “You guys aren’t working together. You’ll be choosing to be together, alone...”

“...With the romantic sunrise shining on you,” adds Jimin with a wink.

“Alone,” Joy reiterates. “So alone, in fact, that the two of you could fuck up on that cliff.”

Jimin bursts into laughter, Namjoon winces at Joy’s crassness, and you grimace, wrinkling your nose in discomfort.

“Sounds incredibly uncomfortable,” you toss back as you rise to your feet. You grab a ten out of your bag and place it on the wooden bar for the bartender. “Much like this conversation, actually. It’s late, I’m heading home. Anyone need a ride?”

You glance pointedly at the two drunkards in your group. You know Namjoon won’t need one, at least.

“Nope,” says Joy, reaching an arm over the table and patting Namjoon’s forearm. “We’ve got this guy. You go home and sleep well for your date.”

“Not a date.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just go so you don’t have nasty undereye bags tomorrow. Jungkook won’t want to fuck you if you do.”

With a roll of your eyes, you lean forward to grace each of their cheeks with a quick kiss, and then you head out.

——

An indelible thread of dread settles just beneath your skin, spreading through the pores of your epidermis and seeping down through your dermis before settling like sediment in the riverbed of your subcutaneous tissue.

Jungkook’s not coming.

Of course he’s not coming. One thing that had surprised you about Jungkook when you’d first met him all those years ago was how polite and well-mannered he was — especially since he was a frat boy in the making at the time. Frat boys have never been notorious for being sweet.

Jungkook was different, though. 

Regardless, the same innate kindness and politeness that made Jungkook stick out to you back then, many notches above the rest, is also the kind of kindness that erects a thick and sturdy wall between you. He’s too nice to turn anyone down upfront. So, it makes sense that him not giving you a firm no about hiking with you today is more because of polite obligation. Not because there was any part of him that genuinely wanted to reconnect. 

A chasm of space, only made larger with time, had opened up between you long ago, and you never thought you’d be able to cross it to the other side.

But seeing Jungkook willing to talk to you yesterday… It had made you hope.

Hope is a dangerous thing.

It’s fifteen minutes past the time you’d asked Jungkook to arrive. And, as the sun begins to peek over the lush emerald leaves on the trees, you decide to abandon that small sliver of hope you’d held that Jungkook would show up.

But, to be fair to Jungkook, it’s your fault. The way things had ended four years ago, the radio silence in the time since his departure… 

You hadn’t been all that great of a friend to Jungkook, toward the end.

Even so. You’d, idiotically, held out hope. As if you haven’t already learned in multiple, shitty ways that hoping for something regarding Jungkook only results in everything going belly up.

You rise to your feet from the rock you’d been seated on for the past twenty minutes, stretching and relishing in the needed pop of your bones. You grab your backpack, hauling it onto your shoulders, and begin to head up the trail, toward the cliff. (The cliff that, coincidentally, was the one Joy had been referring to when she’d so classily claimed you and Jungkook could fuck on it).

“Wait! Blue, hold up!”

Freezing where you stand for just a brief millisecond, you quickly slough off the iciness enough to turn. His familiar tone rattles your thought, and even more rattling is the sight you find:

Jungkook, hopping off a bike, almost getting the laces of his shoes tangled up in its spokes. Stumbling, he shakes the spoke off his shoelace and drops the bike unceremoniously to the ground, right next to your Jeep.

You stand, unmoving and unspeaking, as Jungkook then jogs up the path to you. The closer he comes, the more you can see the sheen of sweat coating his golden skin, dripping down the hollow of his throat and landing on his protruded and pretty collarbone.

While you’re still gawking at the sight he makes, he reaches you. 

He bends over, hands on his knees, puffing out breaths and gasping for air. “So sorry I’m late,” he says, before straightening and reaching behind himself to his backpack, grabbing for the water bottle in the side pocket. And then he takes a long, desperate swig. When he finishes he puts the water away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, giving you an unsure, lopsided grin. 

Your unusual silence probably only makes him feel worse. You feel startled back to earth, so overwhelmed with everything that is Jungkook and the fact that he’s come at all that you feel like you have to drag the words out of you. “Oh, it’s no big deal,” you lie. “… Why the bike, though?”

While, yes, you and Jungkook both are pretty notorious jocks, this town is pretty sprawled out and this hiking spot is a good few miles from the rest of human civilization, so willingly biking here just to then go on a long hike on a steep incline is kind of…. insane. Even for athletes.

Maybe Jungkook’s always been a little weird, but not insane.

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I, uh, kinda have to use a rent-a-bike to get around until I have some time to get a car. I definitely underestimated how long it would take me to get here. I left an hour ago…”

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

You berate your heart. Dumb bitch. 

You shake off that weird shit. “An hour? From where?”

“The Rivet,” he says, referring to a hotel downtown.

“You biked. From the Rivet.” Your brows furl. “Okay, first of all, you should have asked me for a ride. Second of all, why are you staying at a hotel? Why don’t you have an apartment? Or what about crashing with Chan at his apartment?”

He shakes his head. “Chan isn’t in town right now, and he didn’t know I was coming.”

Chan didn’t know?

That’s… weird. Really weird.

You may not have spoken to Jungkook in the past four years and may have only seen Chan an occasional few times while out and about, but, as far as you know, they’re still closely knit best friends. 

Did distance tear them apart, too?

Now you’re even more confused about Jungkook’s sudden return. He had claimed it was for a job, but you’d assumed it was more likely he sought a job here because of Chan and maybe his other college friends, the few that remain. Or maybe he wanted to be only a couple hours from his parents’ place again, instead of half a day away.

Confusing! Why is he here? Why did he come to this town, specifically? What is here that he can’t get anywhere else?

It’s not like this town is an undesirable place, though.

The suburbs are lined with perfectly manicured houses sitting on perfectly manicured lawns owned by equally perfectly manicured men and women. Downtown is taken up by the businesses, with the college campus spread throughout it, and all the apartments that house both college students and the condos for the wealthy people. Dotted throughout on the edges of the suburbs and beyond are all the winding, tree-littered hills and other natural bits of lands. The cliffs and waterfalls and trails that you’d originally came to this city for.

Still. For some reason, you feel like Jungkook doesn’t belong here. Even if he looks as natural on this trail as he had years ago. You’ve never been able to articulate why you think so.

“Do you have sunscreen?” he asks, jolting you back to the here and now.

“Do I have sunscreen?” you echo in disbelief. Who does he think you are? “Of course I do.” You turn around, so your backpack is facing him. “Third pocket. Open the zipper. Take your pick.”

You hear him unzipping it, feel him searching around for a bottle.

“Jesus, Blue, is it necessary to carry this many? Which one do you want me to use?”

“Never enough sunscreen,” you tell him chirpily. “Especially for occasions like this. Use whichever. Sana and Namjoon always forget it, so it’s nice to have extra on hand. Kinda surprised you of all people forgot, though.”

He sighs, pulling out his preferred choice, and you turn in time to see him slathering himself up with it.

“Remember the job I told you about yesterday?”

“At Hanseu?”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t supposed to transfer here until a month from now,” he explains. “But the company called me up, and told me they needed me to start as soon as possible, so last week I packed up what little I could and hopped on the first flight out. So, yeah. I’m a little out of sorts. I don’t have everything I need. Don’t have a way to really get around yet. And I’m stuck in an overly-priced cramped hotel.”

“Hence, the bike riding,” you say, gesturing to the fallen bike.

He looks back at the bike and grimaces. “Yeah, hence the bike.”

“Damn,” you say in sympathy, attempting (and failing) to not ogle Jungkook as he spreads the sunscreen across his toned arms, neck, face, legs. “Shouldn’t you have flown back this weekend?” you ask, your voice slightly high. “So you can pack and stuff?”

“Yeah, well.” He finishes lotioning up and motions for you to turn around. You do. “I had plans.”

“Plans?”

“Hiking,” he says simply, and you suddenly find yourself relieved that he’d turned you around to put the sunscreen back into your backpack, because otherwise he might have bared witness first to the startled look on your face, and then the slightly dopey smile that followed it.

“We could have rescheduled. I hike every Saturday morning,” you say, deceptively airy as your stomach does a flip.

Damn Jungkook’s ability to do that to you. Whether unwittingly or wittingly.

“Didn’t know how long the offer was good for,” he replies, and if you aren’t mistaken you detect... a note of bitterness in his tone. 

Smile wiped from your face, you slowly turn to face him to find him closer than before. Far too close for your addled mind.

His dark eyes search your face, his expression falling at what he finds. “I don’t want…” He sighs, tussles his hair with one of his pretty hands as if it’ll shake the words he wants to say out. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says. “Or make you regret this. I don’t want to make you regret reaching out to me, you know.”

Your stomach sinks unpleasantly. You hate this. This sullenness. Damp in the air, wet and sticky. 

You decide you immediately want to wipe it all away. 

So you muster up what feels like a pitiful smile, but in all your years as you, you know you are a master of falsification: your smile looks as genuine as can be, bright and friendly. “Really, Jeon. There’s no need to think that. If I didn’t want to hang out, I would have ducked for cover when I saw you. Made up an excuse to leave or something. I wouldn’t have invited you out if I didn’t want to.”

It seems it works, somewhat, for Jungkook puffs out a laugh, a slight light in his eye. “I doubt that, Blue. You could withstand hanging out with Mussolini if you really needed to.”

You blanch, a laugh bubbling up your throat. “Um, good thing I don’t need to do that?”

But Jungkook is never as good as you are as moving past things. You still note a weight of less-than-pleasantness on his shoulders. But his smile is soft. 

“Blue,” he says, just as soft.

You swallow. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

You return his smile, but turn to face toward the trail, and as he falls into step beside you, you realize —

You’re glad Jungkook is back. And you’re going to do everything in your power to prevent him from leaving again.

Even if it hurts.

***********

8 years ago, Summer 1994.

It feels odd.

Adulthood.

True adulthood. 

Freedom, unimpeded.

It feels weird and unusual and novel, having the freedom to come here. To this town. This town, with all its beauty, with all its sprawling, rolling hills littered with deep green evergreens. All its wide ravines with crisp and deep blue water splitting them, cliffs etched into the side of small mountains that afford one a view of such sights. All the waterfalls galore, all the large lakes for swimming and boating and more —

A place like this is perfect for a woman like you. A woman with a love for natural phenomena and exercise.

And you’re not just here to visit.

For the next four years, this town will be your home. You've chosen the university you will be attending because of the views. And now these views are basically your backyard. 

It doesn’t feel like you're running from your past — only that you’re running to this beautiful new beginning.

You’ve only been here a few days, haven’t even started your college freshman year yet, and yet, you’re already falling in love with this place. And as you park your Jeep down at the bottom of Sangsaeng along with the other cars, possibly the other members of the hiking group you’re here to join, you only find yourself instantly more and more sure of your decision to come to this town..

And, gosh, these views are so pretty. The flora is such a startling emerald and the waters a pretty, deep—

“Blue?”

At first, the moniker doesn’t register, as it sounds more like a natural continuation of your admiring thoughts, so you simply keep walking, ready to meet with the rest of your university's hiking group. The other members mill about up ahead, and you’re determined to meet with them.

But then a boy moves into your field of vision.

You blink at him.

He jogs backwards, with a soft, unsure grin. It’s impossible to not immediately take notice of the toned musculature of his body and the way it contrasts with the soft roundness of his facial features. Round in a youthful way that doesn’t match with the rest of him, paired with eyes a thick, warm brown.

You raise a brow, never one to turn down a chance at conversation. Especially with someone who’s cute. Very cute.

“What’s good?”

“Blue,” he says again, as if insistent . “It is you!” His eyes seem to sparkle at this information.

“Why are you calling me that?” you ask with an arched brow. “Have we met?”

Disappointment passes over his features, and he frowns. “Were you really that drunk? You don’t remember?”

Your mouth opens in an ‘o’. Suddenly he does seem very familiar, if you switch out the t-shirt and compression shorts under the pair of loose gym shorts and sneakers for a black hoodie and blacker joggers, if you imagine his hair slicked back instead of damp and hanging in loose curls as they do now.

“You were at that party last night,” you deduce. “You look a little different, but I remember you.”

It was a fun party. Your first college party. You and your roommate, Joy, whom you had met that same day, had made the mutual decision to go, both new to town and eager to meet new people.

You’re glad you went. You’d had a lot of fun and met a good dozen new friends. 

He shrugs. “I’m not really one for dressing up. This is more my element anyway.”

“I mean, me either. Jeon Jungkook, right?”

Jeon Jungkook was definitely your favorite ‘new friend’ from the party. He’d put up with you for a long while (more than you expected him to, honestly) and had been a lot of fun.

Jungkook’s grin grows impossibly wide. He has a pretty smile that takes over his whole face, making him appear so… cute. He’s cute! Like a puppy. “I’m surprised you remember my name.” He pauses, does a once-over of you before meeting your eye. “You never did give me yours, though.”

“Oh, you’re right, I didn’t.” You laugh to yourself, remembering the little game you and Joy had decided to play last night.

The mission: don’t give out your real names.

Not for any reason other than it seemed like it would be fun. Joy had proposed the idea because she wanted to ‘mess with people’ and you’d readily accepted because why not? She had actually picked Joy as her stand-in name herself. She’d explained her decision to you; her parents had always called her their little bundle of joy. 

Honestly, the name had stuck. You even think about her by the nickname at this point.

And you? Well, you hadn’t chosen any name to give out in place of your real one. You hadn’t been able to figure out one that suited you (it’s not like you had any cute nicknames given by your parents), but what’s in a name, anyway? You only need something to call you by. And most people didn’t really care, to your knowledge. Which is very, very fuzzy knowledge. You may or may not have blacked out later in the night, leaving most of your memories to be very scant flashes.

You do remember Jungkook’s smile, though.

Well. Whatever. You wonder where this ‘Blue’ came from — maybe from Joy sometime later in the night, maybe someone else.

Maybe from this boy before you.

You’re curious about its origins.

“Well?” he asks, slightly impatient. “What is it?”

You pantomime your lips being zipped shut. “A secret. Honestly, I’m more concerned about why you’re calling me Blue.”

He lifts a brow, eyes scanning over you. Tongue prodding his cheek, he asks, “Isn’t it obvious?”

You look down at yourself, sport various shades of blue, but you paired it with black and gray, this time! And yesterday night, you hadn’t really unpacked anything yet, so you had just grabbed the clothes that were on top of your carry-on. It may not have been attire suited for a party, but no one seemed to care. Except Joy, who had declared your athleisure wear an affront to mankind.

You laugh. “Oh, yeah. I swear I don’t do it on purpose. I just don’t really like shopping, so I always grab the first thing off the rack that catches my eye. And it’s usually blue.”

“Hey, I don’t mind. You just wouldn’t tell me your name, so I had to come up with something. ‘Hey you, pretty girl in blue’ is just a mouthful.”

“So, Blue.” You turn it over on your tongue, skirting past his compliment deftly. “Aptly named, I think. I like it. Think I’ll keep it.”

He laughs in surprise, and you admire the way his eyes crinkle when he does. “Keep it?”

You nod, not expounding on your thought process. He doesn’t need to know the reasoning behind why you do what you do. No one does.

You’re determined to segue the conversation past the topic of names. So, you start walking forward again and ask, “I take it you like to hike, too?”

Jungkook blinks, gripping the handles of backpack tight, but he turns so he faces the same direction you do and falls into synchronized step beside you. “I like anything that keeps me active. I do love hiking specifically, though.” He looks around the both of you, taking in the view as you encroach on your, apparently, shared hiking group. “It’s just so...”

“Breathtaking.”

He smiles back at you. “Yeah, exactly that. What about you?”

“Same here,” you say. “I like to keep moving, whatever that entails. Hiking’s good for that.”

“Do you like to work out?”

“Uh, duh,” you say. “If I could work out for a living, I would.”

He looks at you like you’re insane . “I mean, I like working out, but… would you really do that for a living? Like, make a career out of it?”

You shrug. “I mean, I don’t know. I’m considering doing something like that for a living. Not become a pro athlete or anything, but maybe a P.E teacher, personal trainer, something. I’m definitely not suited for an office job, so.” You shrug. It’s weird for you to think so deeply about the future. Your main goals the past decade have been to get the hell out of your hometown, and get into college. You’ve done both those things. But where will you go from here? What’s your new goal? You won’t profess to have a clue. “I’ll see where life takes me.”

“Oh.” Jungkook seems to chew over that for a moment. “Are you a health sciences major?”

You nod. “You?”

“Honestly, I don’t know yet. I’m undecided.”

Interesting. As blasé as you are about the future, at least you have a major. 

You don’t have the time to respond to that revelation, though, because you and Jungkook reach the rest of the hiking group, and a woman comes to you, the epitome of bubbly. “Are you two here to join the hiking club?”

“Yup!” you reply, equally as chirpily. “Where do we sign up?”

She extends the clipboard that was previously attached to her hip. “Sign your name and what year you are here,” she says, pointing to each spot, as if you’d get lost in your search for an empty spot to place your name.

She hands the clipboard to you first, and you write ‘Freshman’ in the year column, but stare for a few seconds too long before impulse takes over and you write a word down in the space next to it.

You hand the clipboard to Jungkook.

You watch as his eyes widen, a slow grin spreading across his face as he writes down his information below yours.

He hands the clipboard to the club manager and she does a quick glance over it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Jungkook and Blue,” she says. Jungkook’s eyes bore into the side of your head. “I’m Seeun. Why don’t you both come over to the rest of the group so we can discuss rules and make sure you both have everything you need?”

Gesturing you forward, she turns and walks away.

Slowly, you and Jungkook match each other’s steps as you follow behind her, and he breaks the short silence. 

“You’re really going with Blue?”

You nudge him with your elbow and mirror his smile, but amplify. “I told you I liked it.”

He puffs out a laugh, shaking his head, but says nothing else.

Satisfied, you face forward and join the rest of the group — with Jungkook by your side. And though you hardly know him, you think you want to keep him by your side. 

[eundiarys]

19. all too well

genre : idol! au, fake dating au to actually really dating, fluff, no angst i think, my humor (sorry)

warnings : not proofread lol,

summary : in which — yn who just debuted gets into a dating scandal with one of the most famous group members because of a misunderstanding and is forced to fake date with him. what happens if it isn’t as bad as she thinks? and and what if she finds comfort with him?

( A WEEK AFTER BREAKUP NEWS )

taehyun was a very simple person. he wasn’t big in socialising, so if he liked someone’s first impression that means there’s a chance of him and that person getting along.

you were one of those people. when he first met you, you were crying but he didn’t think it was a bad impression. he felt the need to comfort and reassure you everything will be okay.

at times went on, he started liking you more and more. being an idol comes with lots of responsibilities and hardships, his members helps him but taehyun doesn’t talk about his feelings. not with anyone but you.

you were his light in a dark world where the atmosphere was always gloomy. you were there whenever he needed you, and he finds everything you do interesting. he doesn’t mind doing anything or nothing, as long as he’s with you.

it’s true that he loves you, but why did he have to go and create an unhappy ending for him and you?

even in his bed, tired and feeling devastated about the news that just came out, he’s still thinking of you. pining for you, even when he knows he has hurt you.

he still remembers how your hand fits perfectly into his, your lavender perfume scent, your adorable giggles everytime he cups your face to wipe off ice cream on your face.

he remembers everything, all too well.

he was stupid for making that decision — he feels empty without you. at the time, it may seemed like a logical reason. with the “i want to focus on my career” bullshit as a reason.

taehyun could care less about my career right now. you both literally had no one stopping you to actually date. you are all he wants.

but it’s too late now. and he can’t fix it anymore.

masterlist ʚ♡ɞ next

authors note , i can’t write angst im sorry 😭 also just like 3/4 more miserable chapters to go stay strong LMFAOOO

taglist , @kiribirien @wccycc @hanniluvi @imhuh @ashxxgyu @zuyairus @suburbiataehyung @jungwonj @eveyi @taekwondoes @mirula @aestheticsluut @lcv3lies @iirene304 @curly-fr13s @luvdokja @forever-in-the-sky2 @sserafimez @cha0thicpisces @hawkins-hs @whippedforbeomgyu @hoonfever @stepout-09-15 @yuhjoeyuh @nyujjan @qluvrv @vixensss @viagumi @captivq @ttyunz @luvkait @foxsunoo @emohazuzworld @smg-valeria @ja4hyvn @tmrx2gther @reverbtunes @xiaoderrrr @catsyoon @soobsdior @iad0ru @wonyofanclub @lonewolfjinji @chaeey @fzy-b3om @itskpopular @dimplewonie @haknom @bwljules @vuiom @cashew00nut @fanfangying1304 @soobisrealgfnotfake @telengraph (thank you for reading!)

[em-prentiss]

I like shiny things but I'd marry you with paper rings

-----

Chapter 3: Surprise (not a good one)

She laughs and it hits him then, as the breath catches in his throat. I want to marry her. His heart beats so fast he’s surprised she doesn’t hear it. He suddenly sees another child next to Jack on the swings; a girl, her hair dark and her eyes darker still, carbon copies of Emily’s. It settles in his lungs, a choking need to have this with her.

Or, 5 times Aaron tries to propose to Emily, and the one time he finally does it.

Word count: 3.3k

-----

She hovers. He’s almost halfway through his ten week leave and she’s constantly there, pushing him down when he tries to get up, not letting him lift anything heavier than his pillow. He hasn’t even left their apartment in weeks, not to accompany her as she drops off Jack or heads to the grocery store. He’s grateful for her, he really is, but one more day like this and he’ll snap.

“Emily.” His voice comes out sharp when she takes his laptop from his hands.

She doesn’t blink. “You’re not working, Aaron. You’re on leave because you had surgery. Sit down.”

Five weeks ago. Aaron runs a frustrated hand through his hair, biting back the response that if he sits back down he’ll fuse with the damn couch. “I’m not going to work,” he lies through his teeth. “I can’t just use my computer to...relax?” The word feels unnatural as it leaves his lips and he grimaces.

“If you’re going to lie, at least do it convincingly.” Emily slams the laptop down on the coffee table, making her case files rattle and slip to the floor. Aaron sighs. She’d caught him a few days ago logging back into his email and work accounts. He’d been halfway through devising a preliminary profile for a detective in Boston when she came up behind him, her arms crossed and a disappointed—but unsurprised—look on her face.

She’s been tense with him ever since, her jaw tightening whenever he tries to read through the case files she’d bring home or ask her about whatever case she’s working on remotely with the team. His frustration rises too, being shut out from work and trapped in the apartment all at once making him irritable, even with her.

“You know I think I need some form of mental stimulation other than sitcoms,” he says dryly. “I’m not exactly exerting myself by building profiles.”

His sarcastic tone makes her skin itch. “You do that when you’re back at work.” Emily snaps. “The only reason you’re not there right now is because you weren’t taking care of yourself,” she hisses, her eyes glassy as she points at him accusingly. It’s unfair, she knows it is, but the words spill out of her anyway. “The least you could do is take care of yourself now.” Her voice breaks.

His irritation is immediately snuffed out, guilt roiling in his stomach as she bites her trembling lip. Aaron tries to reach for her but she steps away. “Emily..”

“I’ll get started on lunch,” she clears her throat, ducking her head as she walks past him.

He hears pots and pans clanging as she moves around the kitchen, taking her frustration out on inanimate objects rather than him. Aaron fights the urge to go after her and apologize, knowing she needs her space to deal with this. She never told him about it—how she found him lying on the floor, probably looking close to dead—but he’d woken a few times at night to see her propped up on her elbow, staring at him, her eyes fixed on the rise and fall of his chest. “Go to sleep,” she’d murmur and he would, high on drugs and desperate for the ache in his body to ease.

It started getting better about a week ago—at least he’s finally able to walk around the house without getting winded. Now he’s restless, the most he feels a sore ache that throbs dully at his incision when he bends over or yes, lifts something heavy, but she won’t even let him do that. 

He’s still lost in his thoughts when she comes back, two plates in her hands that she sets down on the coffee table. Her eyes are dry and her face is blank as she sits down on the far edge of the couch, away from him. The deliberate distance makes his stomach roil uncomfortably. He turns to face her.

“Can we talk?” Aaron asks quietly. Emily swallows and nods, turning to face him and tucking her legs under her.

Her eyes flit over his face, scanning for signs of discomfort she knows he won’t show. The words fail him as she waits, chewing apprehensively on her lip. Aaron suddenly realizes he doesn’t know where to start. 

“Hi,” he says lamely. It makes her huff out a laugh, the sound weak but there, and it makes his heart ache. “Hi,” she whispers.

Aaron holds out his hand for her and waits until she takes it, her palm warm against his. “I love you, you know that?”

She rolls her eyes this time. “Yes, Aaron, I know that. And I know you’re only frustrated because I’m hovering, but,” she blows out a shaky breath and looks down at their joint hands. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” She shrugs helplessly, the glassy sheen returning to her eyes.

His heart pinches painfully at the sight of her dark, wet eyes, even though he knows she won’t let herself shed those tears. They’ve been there, just under the surface ever since he was in the hospital, and he hates that he’s the cause of them.

Aaron laughs shakily. “You know, only you would apologize for taking care of me,” he smiles softly and places a gentle kiss on her knuckles as she sniffles. He tugs her closer and she goes willingly, fitting herself against his shoulder and letting him bring her legs into his lap. 

“It’s because I know I’d do the same if I were you,” she shakes her head, “worse, probably. God, I’d be insufferable.” Her lip trembles and she bites down on it.

“Em,” he whispers, wiping away a tear that escapes past her lash line. He knows taking care of him like this is her own way of overcompensating for not seeing the signs herself, beating herself up because she didn’t notice anything amiss, even though it’s through no fault of her own. It cracks his heart open, because not even he put the pieces together.

He gently cups her face and forces her to look at him. “I love that you’re taking care of me.” 

Emily rolls her eyes.

“Hey. Really, I do,” he insists, feeling her tangle her fist in his shirt. The action makes him exhale, just slightly. “And I’m so grateful to you, sweetheart.”

“But?” She prompts. 

Aaron sighs. “But I think we need some space. I’m fine now—mostly fine,” he hurries to amend when she glares at him. “At least I can walk around the house and not lose my breath.” He chuckles lightly. 

Emily doesn’t reciprocate. “Not funny,” she mumbles. “What do you mean by space?” She whispers, an apprehensive look in her eye as she worries at her bottom lip. 

Aaron gently eases it from her teeth. “We both need to get out of the house, clearly. I think one more day here and we’ll murder each other,” he murmurs and she laughs properly this time, her eyes lighting up.

Aaron smiles. “We’ve been trapped here for the better part of a month. We could go on a walk, maybe?” He suggests. “It’s still early, we could go and be back before Jack comes home.” 

Emily’s brows furrow, “Are you sure? You’re still not fully healed,” she carefully runs her hand over his torso, the bandages long gone. She still knows exactly where they used to lay, lumpy beneath his soft shirts.

“I’m sure, Em,” Aaron says patiently, determined not to lose his cool again. There’s still so much worry swimming in her dark eyes, the furrow between her brows still there ever since they left the hospital. “Sitting here all day with nothing to do,” he blows out a breath and shakes his head. “I’m going crazy, honey, and I’ve still got five weeks to go. Which are unnecessary, by the way,” he grumbles. 

Emily huffs. “They’re not.” She takes a second to consider it before she finds herself nodding. He needs it, to get out of the house and not feel trapped by the same four walls—hell if it were her, she’d have snapped a long time ago. And a walk is hardly strenuous exercise. “Okay,” Emily exhales, “but you have to stop working,” she scolds, her eyes boring into his. “Pen told me you were trying to access some files.” 

He smiles sheepishly at her and she shakes her head. “Promise me, Aaron. No more working until your leave is up.” Her hand reaches up to push his hair away from his face.

“I promise.” He kisses her forehead, feeling something in him loosen, wilt in relief. “I’m sorry for acting out. And snapping at you.”

Emily hums as she runs her hand through his hair. “You’re forgiven. I told you if it were me I’d have been worse.” She gives him a small smile. “I’m surprised you haven’t snapped earlier, Mr I-don’t-like-anyone-to-take-care-of-me.”

Aaron laughs lightly, his heart lifting again as she scrunches her nose at him. “You’re not much better,” he murmurs as he pulls her into a hug, his muscles relaxing when she melts into him.

Emily huffs out a laugh. “I already admitted that twice, I’m not saying it a third time.”

———

So they develop a routine. Emily drops Jack off in the morning and they have breakfast when she returns. She consults with the team from home and agonizes over the tiny details with Penelope while the rest of them go out in the field, chasing suspects and conducting interviews. In the afternoon Aaron and Emily take long walks in the park, a blanket tucked under Emily’s arm that she unfolds when he starts getting tired—though he never admits it, so she has to feign fatigue herself. He knows what she’s doing and loves her all the more for it, affection for her blooming in his chest. After they pick up Jack together Emily prepares dinner with Aaron instructing her from the island, and most nights he can barely stay awake for long after his son, the exertion on his still healing body taking a toll on him.

Days blur past until it’s week nine and he’s restless, his body finally strong enough for him to go about his daily activities like he used to; he and Emily run on the weekends and he finally takes over cooking their meals. But she’s forcing him to continue his full ten weeks, so he spends that time in planning how exactly he’s going to propose again. She had already started going back to work last week, encouraged by the fact that he no longer winces when Jack gives him careless hugs.

She’s only gone four days for a case in New York but he feels her absence acutely. He realizes, belatedly, that it’s the first time they haven’t gone to work together ever since they started dating. He thought it’d feel familiar, doing dinner and bedtime with just him and Jack, but instead it feels stilted, unnatural with only one of them there rather than both of them tucking his little boy in and giving him a kiss goodnight.

His shoulders slump in relief when he hears her key in the door. Aaron gets up just as she walks in, go bag in hand and her purse slung over his shoulder. She looks up and gives him a smile as he approaches, his feet effortlessly taking him to her.

“Hi,” he kisses her at the door and takes the bag from her hand to drop it on the floor. His hands roam over her body, desperate, wanting. 

“Hi,” she smiles at him and lets him pull her closer, suppressing a laugh at his desperation. She loops her arms around his neck, presses her soft lips to his cheek. “I missed you too.”

They settle back into their familiar routine, tucking Jack in and snuggling together on the couch, both of them seeking each others comfort. She’s absentmindedly playing with her hair when she speaks suddenly. “Hey, it’s our last weekend together before we get busy again, how about we go to the beach tomorrow? Who knows when we’ll get a weekend off.”

It’s like a bulb goes off in his head. It’s perfect; she loves the beach, loves to walk along the shore and hunt for shells to take back home. He could do it while the sun set and the sky turned bright hues of orange and pink and purple, the dusk reflected in her dark eyes as he asked her to spend the rest of her life with him.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea,” he says mildly, trying not to show the way his heart flutters suddenly. Emily nods along as she grabs her phone, “We can tell the team too-”

Oh hell no.

“No, no,” Aaron shakes his head. He eases the phone from her hand and throws it behind the cushions. “Just you and me.” 

Emily laughs. “Haven’t we been spending too much time together lately?” She teases, scrunching her nose at him.

“I don’t think so,” Aaron frowns playfully as he wraps his hands around her waist. She arches her brows as he kisses the tip of her nose. “Just you and me and Jackers,” he whispers, his eyes pleading. Emily smiles when he uses the nickname she adopted for Jack, one that never failed to make the little boy giggle delightedly.

She can’t pretend not to love the little bubble they made for themselves, tiny and warm and safe. “Okay,” she agrees as she runs her fingers through his hair. “You and me and Jackers.”

He wakes up the next day with a mix of nerves and anxiety swirling through his stomach—not nearly as concerning as before, obviously, but still there. He gently nudges Emily to wear something a little fancier than her usual sweatpants, sure if he proposed to her while she’s wearing comfortable beach wear she’d tear his head for it later. He’d learned that from his first marriage, at least.

He’s admittedly a little distant while teaching Jack how to fly a kite, his eyes flitting more than once to Emily as she tries—and fails—to build them a tiny bonfire. He feels his lungs stuff full of love for her as she rearranges the wood, tries in vain to get them to catch fire, her tongue peeking out in concentration. 

“Daddy, it’s going down!” Jack protests, gaining Aaron’s attention again. 

“Sorry, buddy,” he chuckles as he pulls on the string, making the kite catch against the wind again. Jack giggles when it goes up higher and Aaron smiles, pressing a kiss to his sandy hair. 

Emily looks up and smiles at the sound of their laughter, her heart warming at the sight of Aaron with his arm around Jack’s tiny shoulder, both of their hands holding spool. She gives up on the bonfire and digs out her book instead, content to read to the sound of the waves and Aaron’s low, encouraging voice.

He eventually joins her and builds the bonfire himself, smiling when she curls around his arm in a feeble excuse to get closer to the fire and keep herself warm. Aaron presses his nose to her hair and breathes her in as his heart races, gently reminding himself that she won’t say no, that they talked about this.

The sun starts to sink into the water and he takes that as his cue. “Let’s go for a walk,” Aaron pulls her up as the blue sky slowly turns golden.

Aaron links their fingers together, watching Jack hunt for seashells ahead of them as they walk. He takes a deep breath to calm his racing heart as his hand digs into his pocket. He tries to focus on the sound of Emily’s breathing, the lapping of the waves on the shore as runs his thumb over the smooth velvet. He licks his lips before pulling her to a stop.

“What?” She turns to him. She’s golden, the setting sun behind her bathing her in warm light. It catches her dark hair, tips her lashes in gold. Her eyes shine, her skin glows, and this time he knows he’s got it right.

Aaron squeezes her hand lightly. He blows out a shivering breath and smiles at her. “I meant to-”

“Oh my god!” Someone screams.

Aaron and Emily both whip their heads around to search for the source. When they look to their left Aaron shuts his eyes tightly, blocking out the image of the couple in front of them, the man kneeling in front of his partner.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding. He opens his eyes again when he hears the woman squeal yes. 

“Really?” He mutters under his breath, the box in his pocket burning his skin.

Emily grins as she turns to him. “What, you don’t think it’s cute?” She bumps his shoulder with hers. He can’t even get himself to smile back at her, the bitter lump of disappointment making his lips tighten, his brows knot together frustratedly. Her eyes are drawn to the couple as the man picks the woman up and twirls her around, her new ring glinting in the sunset. 

“It’s pretty romantic,” Emily muses softly. She turns to the sunset and takes in the pinks and golds across the sky, the colorful clouds reflected in the ocean. Her fingers absentmindedly squeeze around his.

Aaron’s heart sinks. From the wistful look on her face he knows she would’ve liked this plan, something a little bit more memorable than dinner at her favorite restaurant.

“I guess,” he sighs as he draws her into his arms and presses his lips to her hair. A part of him debates saying fuck it and doing it, the ring heavy in his pocket, but he tightens his grip on her to forcibly stop himself. She deserves to have her own moment.

“Emmy look at this shell I found!” Jack bounds over to them excitedly, cupping a small clam shell in his hand, open and perfectly intact.

Emily smiles as she pulls away from Aaron to look at it, cupping her hands over Jack’s tiny ones and feeling the grit of the sand press into her skin. “Wow,” she exclaims and Jack beams. “That’s really pretty, sweetheart. We should take it home, don’t you think?”

Jack nods happily. “Can you keep it with you? I don’t wanna lose it.”

Emily’s grin brightens. “Of course, honey,” she says as she takes it from him and closes her fingers over it. “I’ll keep it safe.” She whispers.

Aaron’s bitterness fades as he watches them, their faces awash with the now deep pink of the sunset. He turns to look at the sky, at the sun fully dipped beneath the water and the darkening blue blending into purple. 

“Daddy did you see it?” Jack tugs on his shirt, pulling him from his thoughts. Aaron smiles and looks down at his son, inexplicably filled with the urge to pick him up and hug him close, craving the soothing comfort Jack always gave him, ever since his birth. So that’s what he does. He leans down and heaves Jack into his arms, ignoring the fact that he’s heavier now, his small grunt drowned out by his son’s delighted giggles.

“I saw it, buddy, it’s beautiful,” he murmurs as he kisses Jack’s temple, his eyes flitting to Emily’s. She smiles at him and leans into his arms to join in the hug, one arm going around him and one arm going around Jack.

“He’s got a good eye,” Emily says as she kisses Jack’s cheek repeatedly, smiling when he bursts into laughter. She laughs lightly too as she looks up at Aaron, the shell safe in her closed palm. This time he can’t help but smile back. He presses a kiss to Emily’s hair and to Jack’s, holding them tighter as the sky darkens to black.

He stores away his disappointment, telling himself that when he finally does it the next time, it’ll all be worth it.

[synergysilhouette]

Remaking "Fire Emblem: 3 Houses"

(Spoilers ahead, obviously)

The time has come for another rewrite! I'm an amateur (re)writer, and I KNOW people are gonna be picky about this rewrite since many consider this entry the Holy Grail of the "Fire Emblem" series, but I hope you'll still be open to my changes, anyway! This is purely subjective and not something that reflects the fandom's opinion or me saying how to make the game objectively "better" (even though the term itself is subjective). I don't remember every single aspect of the game, so if I mention something that I wanted from the game that they actually DID do, be sure to mention it!

General

DON'T RUSH US!--From the get-go, you're on a fixed schedule. Once you become a professor, you've got one day out of the week to explore the grounds, fight battles/do paralogues/xenologues, or another activity. Every Monday, you've gotta do instruction for your student, and the other days literally breeze by until you get to your next story arc. Letting us go at our own leisure would be awesome, particularly since it'd give us more time to get to know our characters via more missions and xenologues. Between school and war, it can get a bit monotonous.

2. Give us impactful dialogue options instead of the illusion of choices--I have the same issue with "Pokemon: Mystery Dungeon." Throughout the game, we're given dialogue options, but most of the time the choices are identical or offer no affect other than a character's approval/disapproval. It felt annoying to have the option to tell the Flame Emperor that you'd join them, only for them to say they could tell you were lying. It's annoying stuff like that that makes it feel like you don't really need dialogue options at all, just cutscenes with Byleth speaking for themselves.

3. Those Who Slither in the Dark being keeping us in the loop--It's wild to me that the people who did the most damage are the most underused in the game. Someone said that making their deeds more pronounced/known would ruin the point, but I disagree. In Crimson Flower, their role in the Tragedy of Duscur is revealed, but Edelgard defeats them offscreen before restoring peace. Dimitri never learns the full truth of this in Azure Moon, and if I recall, the organization does get more attention in Silver Snow (for like 2-3 chapters) and Verdant Wind, but I can't recall for certain. Either way, I feel like each route should feel complete, given that you're playing completely different stories, rather than it feeling like you're missing some information depending on the route you play. Not to mention, Kronya deserves better, even if I'm retconning her actions (more on that in a second)...

4. Don't make us forget about marriage--having to find a ring sucks. After Jeralt dies, you have a certain amount of time in order to find his marriage ring (which I completely forgot about in my first playthrough) that you NEED if you want to reach S-supports with anyone. I'd prefer if Jeralt just gave it to Byleth rather than us having to go to his office and find it.

5. Change the confusing Byleth bloodline--I'm fine with Sitri being either Rhea's daughter or (if you wanna romance Rhea and Sothis without ethical concerns) simply working at the church where she met Jeralt. The family tree above makes things a lot more confusing than what it needs to be.

6. Marriage to (mostly) whoever, whenever--In the game, you have to wait until after the war is over to be married, and out of them, you only have 5 romantic same-sex options for female Byleth--2 of which are route-exclusive--and 3 options for male Byleth--2 of which are either DLC or route-exclusive. I'd rather make it a free-for-all, save for Gilbert and Alois, who are married, and should've never prevented you from a romantic relationship with another character.

7. Keep Jeralt alive--I'm just...I'm just TIRED of the "dead parent/evil parent" storyline that "Awakening," "Fates," and "Engage" have done, along with "3 Houses." I'd enjoy having Jeralt kept alive, in this version. Nevermind, this is probably the longest a protagonist has gotten to keep their parent in one of the recent FE games. Having him stand by Byleth similar to "3 Hopes" would be awesome.

8. Let us have Child units--As someone who got into the series via "Fates" and "Awakening," it disappointed me greatly that child units were removed. While I prefer "Fates" using the Deeprealms, I think an "Awakening" approach fits best here. Perhaps Sothis' time manipulation is more powerful than she knows, having sent the child units from the future to avoid their dark fates. Since it's story-related, perhaps it's Byleth's child who comes from the future first, referencing Chrom's daughter Lucina coming to save him and Emmeryn in "Awakening," only the child comes to save Byleth and Jeralt. Personally I made a lsit of fanmade child units almost a year ago.

9. Recruit Jeritzia outside of Crimson Flower--"3 Hopes" allowed us to do so as long as we had Mercedes in one of our routes, and I'm confused on why that couldn't be done here. Recruiting Mercedes would be the wakeup call Jeritzia needs to join our side, rather than being the opposition.

10. Keep Byleth's hair color--This is a nitpick, but I'd like being able to change Byleth's hair color back to the way it was before becoming one with Sothis. I'm fine with keeping the hair color, though.

11. A 3 Houses United Route--I mentioned in another post about a route where Jeralt survived, TWSITD as the main antagonists. What'd make this route unique (since I'd want the other two changes to be changed in all routes) is that the almost-death of Jeralt would inspire Byleth to leave the church and become a mercenary again, only getting involved years later once they see how the war has affected their students, and they can still recruit others based on their stats, and since they're not tied to a particular "side" in this concflict, they could recruit the house leaders and their aides rather than having to kill them.

12. Fix Dimitri's turnaround (Azure Moon)--It's probably just me, but it felt like Dimitri's vengence and sudden change of heart following Rodrigue's death felt...too quick? I know this is a hot take, but I'd have thought Rodrigue's death would've fueled Dimitri's anger. Plus I didn't feel like Dimitri's redemption (so to speak) was earned. It was just kinda "sorry for being a jerk, guys" even though the whole team seemed to back him. I'd have enjoyed seeing more moments of his sanity and morality kick in amidst the chaos rather than being one-track-minded. I feel like a lot of poorly done villain arcs do this (even if he isn't the villain of this route, per se). Since in my rewrite we learn about TWSITD, it's quite possible that Dimitri's anger is focused elsewhere in any case. Maybe Rodrigue didn't even have to die...

13. Utilize 3 Hopes designs--This may not be a popular opinion, but I think some of the characters looked better halfway in 3 Hopes than in 3 Houses. It would be nice to have the option to switch their costumes to their 3 Hopes looks instead (even though I know they're older in the 3 Houses timeskip than they are in 3 Hopes).

14. NO IGNORANT BYLETH--Instead of other installments that use the amnesia subplots, Byleth is simply kept in the dark about their parents' pasts, the world, and the church (which is kinda the same thing). I'd alleviate this entirely so we can have a mature and well-learned protagonist rather than a teacher who's just learning how the world works and about the tension in the land.

Hope you're not too upset with my version of the game! Lemme know what you think and if you have any questions. The next FE rewrite I do (whenever I get around to it) will be "Engage," which is the last FE game I've played.