#i feel like she could honestly be a professional interior decorator

[yardsards]

my big sister's apartment looks like a fuckin pinterest board meanwhile i have mouldy dishes in my sink

[mkakki]

And they were soulmates!

I am a sucker for a soulmate au, anyone else?

In which Bakugo Katsuki gets whipped.

Word count: 2150

This is the first installment on what could end up being a multi part series! Female reader. Swearing. I’m unsure if it’ll get explicit or not honestly.

    All you wanted was a simple cup of coffee. Well, maybe your order wasn’t actually all that simple, but you could blame that on your ‘beloved’ best friend. In any case, you just wanted to get your cup of morning coffee, and maybe a pastry if you felt so daring, and be on your merry way to your unassuming office job. Nothing exciting, nothing remarkable. Just a quiet, easy life that you were content to live. Nothing out of the ordinary for you. It was at the forefront of your mind as you braved the coffee shop frequented by those of your office, something as equally quiet and unassuming as the clientele who ghosted along the interior. 

    Being welcomed by the familiar rich scent of the beans and hissing of the machines instantly lifted your mood. Even if you hadn’t been able to procure your drink, just feeling the warmth of the cozy space decorated to look like Gramas living room. Tattered furniture that almost looked like they were crumbling.a wide collection of different pieces, only having their eclectic color scheme in common. Books scattered along tables, free for patrons to browse. With an atmosphere like this, it was easy to justify forking out a bit more than you’d love to pay for a cup of coffee. 

    Somehow it didn’t really register that something was wrong until there was a knife,wickedly curved and glinting dangerously waving through the air in the hand of a slender woman. Her hair was unkempt and matted down her back, skin drawn too tight over her waspish features. Despite the animated way she gestured with her knife, her eyes were rather vacant and void of light as they all but protruded from her pale face. Your mind conjured up the image of some petty criminal, one pushing illegal quirk enhancing drugs on the streets to other criminals that had been on the news as you readied for work. You sighed, still hoping to manage a relatively calm morning. It could still be savaged. This was nothing more than some hopeless person, strung out on whatever stimulants she peddled to other addicts. And you could fib to the gossips in your office, claiming the tardiness was an oversight and not at all connected to the childish display before you. 

    Maybe if you didn’t make eye contact and tried to blend in she wouldn’t even realize you were there. You took cautious steps back, slow enough to not alert whatever flight or fight instinct had this woman going off of the deep end on a Friday morning. In a coffee shop that has average coffee, doing well enough to sustain but never quite making a name in the bustling city. It had to be some cry for help. You dared to tuck yourself ever so slightly behind a man in a pretty charcoal grey suit. It looked to be pressed professionally. 

    “This fucking blow. Why don’t you get a grip, you stupid wanna be?” You nearly jumped out of your skin at the brash voice from behind you. The tension that had been building steadily came to its peak as the woman wheeled in your direction. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to even register that you existed. Glassy eyes staring straight past you to whoever had decided to speak up. As if on strings, you felt yourself turning after letting curiosity get the best of you. 

    Pro hero Dynamite was standing with a little plastic to go cup in his hand, looking entirely unamused in running clothes. With distant horror, you wondered if the green sludge visible through the plastic was something even meant for human consumption. Would it be rude to ask him what his skin care routine is? There was a scar marring the skin of his face, and it made you almost feel sorry. Even so early he looked effortlessly handsome, if not even more intimidating in his shirt and shorts. Plain enough to not draw attention if you weren’t specifically looking at him. 

    “Wha-“ The woman looked just as surprised as anyone else in the increasingly claustrophobic space. You took another brave half step backwards, wanting to put distance between yourself and the commotion. With a roll of his eyes, Dynamite put his cup down on the counter and flexed his hands menacingly. 

    “I didn’t stutter you dumbass wanna be.” Those closest to the front entrance began to pour out of the door, having seen their chance at freedom. Others whipped out smart phones to record the spectacle as he advanced on her. You tried to take another half step, trying to get out of his direct path towards her, but you miscalculated the speed he could move the broad expanse of his body. 

    Bumping into him felt reminiscent of walking face first into a wall. Not the flimsy drywall disasters in a cheap apartment. But an honest to god wooden wall. Maybe brick. Was there going to be a bruise on your forehead later? 

    You felt your mind churning slowly, trying to process who it was you should be more afraid of at this point. The half deranged woman who was now gesturing with more fervor, voice reaching its fever pitch in her crazed ramblings. Or Dynamite, who was glowering at you as if you had taken his drink and upended it over his head. Here you were, an office worker, wondering if it were possible to shrink in on yourself, when you finally noticed that out of pure instinct you had grabbed his forearm. It wasn’t as if it were intentional but you had just gotten the slacks you had on, and even your blouse was one of the nicer ones. You didn’t want to end up on the ground. 

    You jerked your hand back and felt your face go pale. The skin where your fingers had dug in was noticeably different. Blooming splotches the color of red wine smudged across his skin, highlighting the light latticework of scars from previous villain fights. His jaw tensed, brows furrowing further as he dared a glance over your shoulder. Already, there were murmurings throughout the remnants of the crowd. Phones pointed in your direction, eyes as wide as your own blinking owlishly at you. Even the deranged woman had fallen silent for a moment, chewing the new information over slowly. Even Dynamite, who you knew was a bit of a PR nightmare, was silent. Still glaring at you, sparing the markings on his arms not so much as a glance. 

    You swallowed thickly, heart deciding to spasm in your chest and settle somewhere near your stomach with a frantic flutter. Like quirks, the soul mate phenomenon had appeared subtly at first. People inclined to find a suitable mate with a DNA sequence that would produce offspring with a better survival rate. As generations passed, and people were finding it harder to find their complimentary part, so did this phenomena gain strength. Now, the touch of your soul mate produced a physical response. Capillaries dilating and reacting to the genetically perfect match to your own cells. There was a frantic way your brain sorted through the onslaught of logical information, while there was still a part of you that sighed contentedly. 

    I’ve finally found you, it sighed dreamily as you peered up at him through your lashes. 

    Unfortunately for you, the woman decided her best course of action was going to be to take a hostage. And what better hostage than the loud mouth pro hero Dynamite’s soul mate? So the momentary lapse in judgment on everyone’s part lead to what was the final nail in your coffin. Not that finding your soulmate would allow your day to be normal, anyways. But the frigid hands that yanked you back against what felt like a frail body certainly helped cement the idea in your head. 

    “I’ll cut her up, I swear I will! You’re gonna let me get away!” There was a tremble in not only her hands, but her voice as well. You sighed for what felt like the millionth time that morning, and tried to ignore the glint of steel from your peripheral. 

    “Why the fuck should I care if you cut her up? It’s not like I know who this extra is anyways.” You tried not to flinch, tried not to take it personally. There were plenty of cases where soulmates never amounted to anything at all. Some people resented having their fate mapped out for them, and maybe Dynamite was one of those people. You had never really pondered the idea you could ever meet yours. There were so many case studies done, people who went their entire life without knowing their soulmate. 

    It still stung to hear his complete disregard for your well being. 

    You didn’t want to look at his stupid, handsome face anymore, but you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to get away and then pretend that none of this ever happened. You couldn’t really envision anything with the serrated edge of the knife dangling near your jugular. Dynamite was smiling. Smiling! His grin was all teeth and a wild fire burning in the depths of his eyes as he took a step forward. The woman, clammy you decided because of her hands on your neck, shuffled backwards pulling you with her. She smelled like unwashed bodies. 

    Dynamite finally heaved an exasperated sigh, daring a look at the shocked faces. When he fixed you with a look that could wither plants, you decided to formulate a plan. You didn’t know if he was serious about you getting cut up or not, but you weren’t willing to wait around. There were two outcomes here. One and you would be cut with what was probably a dirty knife. Two, you ended up being blasted away with this woman clinging to your back.  With your heart still Jackhammering it’s way around your intestines, you took a resolving breath. 

    Then you threw the entirety of your weight into the elbow you jammed into her stomach. You didn’t let up, you knew you couldn’t give her time to recover if you wanted to get away. But you weren’t trained, you didn’t know what to do. And she managed to grab a fist full of your hair, which really pissed you off. Twisting painfully you brought the heel of your shoe down on her toes, using your hands to try and free your hair. Everything else felt muffled as you grappled with her. Even her movements seemed to slow, your brain trying to keep track of the knife she had somehow kept her grip on. 

    There it was, you thought belatedly as it traced a line of searing pain across your forearm. 

    You tried to reel back, hissing in pain as you tried to catch up with what was happening. Clammy, having seen her shot at victory let you go without a care in the world. She scampered away as you stumbled back, tears pricking your eyes as time caught up with you. Blood welled along the laceration on your arm, and it stung as you tried to clamp a hand down over it. Distantly, sirens could be heard and you knew that a paramedic would help. 

   “Let me see it.” Dynamite, entirely unphased by the now writhing crowd, had grabbed a towel off of the counter next to his drink. His eyes darted up to your face as you let out a pained sound, his rough hands leaving smudges of color where he touched. 

      “Kacchan, why did I get the feeling that you were somehow involved?” You couldn’t pull your eyes away from the blood slipping down your arm, or the way the wine colored marks began to fade around the edges as time passed. It wasn’t like you didn’t know who Deku was, enough interviews played in the background of your office setting that you could recognize his voice even if he had had a cold. He must’ve been back for a visit from the states.  

    “S’not my fault that people are fucking stupid this early in the morning. I just came here for a drink. I didn’t ask to be assaulted,” he scoffed. Deku chuckled, a surprisingly boyish sound. 

  “Are you okay?” A hand came to rest on your shoulder before Deku gasped, having seen your arm. Though, with his track record, you had doubt that he was so shocked at the sight of blood. No, his impossibly green eyes were trained just a little further up than the cut you would probably need to get stitches for, where Dynamite’s fingers were dug into the delicate skin. Where the evidence you had been hoping to have hallucinated cemented the fact you knew. 

      Pro hero Dynamite was your soul mate and if the murderous look he was giving Deku was any indicator, he was not the least bit pleased about it. 

And what that meant for you, exactly, you couldn't be sure.

[extravaguk]

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

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"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

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It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

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At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

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The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

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There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

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"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

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"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

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It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

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Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

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Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

[bungeenomin]

Professional- Jung Jaehyun

genre: ceo!jaehyun x reader angst, smut and full (in that order)

word count: 7k

summary: when you and your ‘no strings attached” fuck buddy that you happen to catch feelings for, end on bad terms, you completely block him out of your life, that is until four years later, when you get a job working for one of the biggest ceo’s in Korea, Jung Jaehyun becomes your boss, and you his assistant

warnings: angst(gets resolved), slight degradation, dirty talk, unprotected sex(wrap before you tap), rough sex, thigh riding, slight overstimulation, orgasms

4 years ago

“Fuck Jae i’m gonna cum” you moan loudly in his ear, resulting in a grunt escaping from the back of Jaehyun’s throat as he picks up his pace. 

“Mmh cum with me baby” Jaehyun moans, and that’s all it takes for you both to come undone together, moans and swear words bouncing off the walls as you come down from your high. 

Jaehyun’s pace finally comes to a stop as he throws his body down beside you, still panting. This was a regular night for you and Jaehyun. For about six months now you’ve been fuck buddies and at least four times a week you end up in one of your dorms. Quick fucks whenever either of you wanted them or needed them, or late night fucks. Even though you were fucking each other with no strings attached, it never became awkward between you too, although the small crush you had on Jaehyun did make the whole no strings attached thing slightly more difficult. You never meant to catch feelings for Jaehyun, it just, happened. 

“I”m gonna go clean up, i’ll be back in a sec” Jaehyun said, caressing your cheek softly before getting out of the bed and moving to the bathroom. 

You didn’t mean to look at Jaehyun’s phone while he was gone. You really didn’t. You heard a phone notification and while checking if it was yours, you accidentally picked up Jaehyun’s, who had the same model phone and happened to not have a case on his either. 

“What the fuck” you whisper to yourself as you see the message displayed on the screen. 

‘Baby i miss you :( come over, i wanna pick up from where we left off the last time ;)’ the text read. You almost forget how to breathe as your eyes begin to swell with tears. You know, no strings attached, but for the last six months, you and Jaehyun had been exclusively fuck buddies. You know you would certainly tell him if you were letting someone else stick their dick in you, yet here he is, fucking other people and not having the audacity to even tell you. 

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you get up and start collecting your clothes from the floor and dressing yourself as fast as you can. You just want to leave and never have to look at his stupid face that you’re so obsessed with ever again. Jaehyun walks back into the room as you pull your shirt over your head, confused as to why you’re suddenly in such a rush to leave. “Hey, what’s up? where are yo-”

“What’s up? Why don’t you check your fucking phone Jaehyun” you spit, anger seeping out of you. Jaehyun gives you a concerned look before picking up his phone, his face dropping when he see’s the message on the screen. “Yeah Jaehyun, that’s whats fucking up, except, you didn’t even feel the need to tell me” 

“Y/n- we said no strings attached” Jaehyun says, not knowing what else to say. 

“There are no fucking strings attached Jaehyun! Funnily enough i fucking hate you right now, but don’t you think i have the right to know that my fuck buddy is fucking someone else?” you question. 

“I didn’t think it matt-”

“Of course it fucking matters Jaehyun. But you’re such a fucking self absorbed fucking prick that all you care about is getting your fucking average ass dick wet. Fuck you Jung Jaehyun” you spit as you walk towards the door, “if i never see you again it’l be too soon”. 

After that night, you didn’t see Jaehyun again. You blocked his number and all his social media platforms. You completely cut him out of your life. It hurt, but it didn’t hurt half as much as what he did to you. You know, what he did shouldn’t have mattered, but it did, and that wasn’t very no strings attached of you. You shouldn’t have fallen for Jaehyun put you did, and before you could even tell him, he broke your heart. You hated him for that. 

Present day

Your legs are decorated with goose bumps as you walk in your black, skin tight pencil skirt through the busy street. The cold winter air is intense, but you know that first impressions are everything, and so here you are, freezing your ass off to make a good first impression on your first day of work.

Honestly, you still can’t believe you’ve got this job. You applied for it late one night just by chance, not at all thinking you could get a job as the ceo of one of the largest companies in Korea’s assistant.

You take a shaky breath, before pushing the large doors open and stepping into the building. The interior is more expensive than you expected. Modern design, glass chandeliers, velvet couches, glass cases full of awards and pricey looking ornaments and antiques. It’s so beautifully decorated.

“Ah you must be y/n!” an older woman in sophisticated clothing says, a clipboard in her hand.

“Yes! That’s me. I’m starting work here today” you reply, a gentle smile on your lips.

“Yes of course!” the woman replies as she begins walking, motioning for you to come with her, “I’ll bring you to Mr. Jung’s office right away. I have to warn you though, he can be, well, difficult. He’s a very determined and work orientated man”.

If you weren’t nervous before, you certainly are now. This job would be just perfect if the ceo was bearable. “Good luck” the lady whispers, as she opens the door for you. “Mr Jung, your new assistant is here” she announces, before leaving you to your own devices.

As you take a step into the large office, you see a tall man, facing away from the desk and looking out at the beautiful view of the city the office has. “It’s funny isn’t it? How people meet again” the man states, not moving from his position.

You know what voice. Hell, you wish you didn’t but you do. You never wanted to hear that voice again, or see that face, and now he’s your boss? The male quirks an eyebrow and turns to face you at your lack of response, and there he is. Jung Jaehyun.

“Yes” you reply quietly, completely shell shocked at his presence. After all these years. Jaehyun from college is one of the most successful ceo’s in all of Korea, typical. 

“Ah ah, yes sir to you. Where are your manners?” Jaehyun replies, a smirk on his lips. 

“Yes sir”

“Much better” Jaehyun replies, moving to his seat. “Your desk is there, take a seat” he points towards a large desk, although much smaller than his own, placed not too far from his desk, but far enough for you both to have personal space.

“Let’s get a few things straight” Jaehyun starts as soon as you sit in your seat, “other people don’t run my company for me, i run it. My company has no shareholders, it’s entirely mine, so don’t even consider thinking you can help me with my business. Your job is not that hard, a child could do it. All you have to do is keep track of my meetings and schedules, i’m a busy man y/n, if you forget, consider your self fired. I don’t have the time to work both of our jobs. You’ll accompany me to meetings, you are to write down every detail that is spoken about. I never do business on the day, i go home and reflect, which is why you better have every last detail on that paper. It’s also your job to go through my emails, but nothing to do with business deals, that’s none of your concern. My business deals are in my own email, so don’t worry. The email i’m going to give you is for promotional deals, sponsorships and the likes, deal with them accordingly. Don’t fuck it up y/n, it’s simple work. If i had two of me, i would do it myself but unfortunately, that’s not the case and well, here you are. Oh and lastly, if i want coffee, that’s on you”

He’s changed. He’s changed so much. He’s not the Jaehyun you knew. Not your Jaehyun. Well, the Jaehyun you knew was never really your Jaehyun. He made sure of that. Maybe this is still old Jaehyun, and he was just nice to you so he could get his dick wet. Maybe. 

“Do i make myself clear, y/n?”

“Yes sir” 

“Great, you’re only in for an induction today really so just set up your desk and go i guess” Jaehyun says monotonously, his eyes back in work mode as they stare at the large computer screen in front of him. 

“Oh, okay sir” you reply, taking your stationary out of your bag and displaying it neatly on your desk. 

“See you tomorrow” Jaehyun says, eyes failing to lift from the screen that illuminates his face. “My coffee better not be on my desk a minute after 8am, i’m very punctual, so 8:01 won’t do”

“Yes sir” you reply, trying your best to keep your calm, “see you tomorrow” and with that, you leave the man to his work in the office, releasing a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in the second you exit the room.  

When the next morning arrives, you do everything you can to make sure you don’t piss off Jaehyun. You arrive fifteen minutes early to set up your computer and get his coffee, but of course, by the time you reach the coffee machine, there’s a line. 

You check your watch as you quickly walk towards the office, coffee in hand, and just as you reach the door you see the time switch to 8:01. Of course. You open the door, in hopes that you will have beaten Jaehyun to the office but you didn’t. He is sat at his desk, looking through stacks of paper work, wearing a serious expression. 

“Late on your first day? We really aren’t getting off to a good start now, are we dear?” Jaehyun questions, the same serious expression displayed on his face as he looks over the frame of his low hung glasses at you. 

Dear. 

“I’m sorry sir” you reply, before walking towards his desk to place his coffee. 

“Let it be the only slip up” Jaehyun grumbles, his focus now back on the documents in front of him. He was never much of a morning person, but from what you saw yesterday, you aren’t sure if he’s much of an evening person now either.

“What’s todays schedule?” Jaehyun questions a few minutes later, taking a small sip of his coffee, and humming in satisfaction. 

“It says here you just have a call with Mr Wang at 9am sir” you reply, as you read the schedule, insuring you weren’t missing anything. 

Jaehyun leaves out an unsatisfied scoff at that, “Fine, it’ll be on speaker, write the details. He’s very persuasive so i will need a lot of reflection before signing anything with him, make sure you write down everything”. 

So you did. You felt as if your hand was going to fall off due to how quickly Mr Wang spoke, but you got everything written down. You typed it all out in a neat format so Jaehyun would understand it perfectly. 

Jaehyun was on his third cup of coffee since sitting down to reflect on the business deal that Mr Wang had offered him, and the man looked stressed. Heavy sighs left his lips over and over again as he weighed out his options, desperately trying to make a decision. He looks so attractive when he’s worked up. He always has. Any time he was stressed during university, he would call you over and just fuck it out of his system. He’d never do that now though. Not anymore. 

“More coffee?” you question hesitantly, looking at the empty cup sitting on his desk, as Jaehyun sits with his head in his hands. 

“No” Jaehyun simply replies. “There’s a bottle of whiskey over in the cabinet, bring it over with a cup”. 

It would be nice to hear a please from Jaehyun, but right now, you know he’s up to his eyes with stress. 

“Here you go sir” you announce, leaving the glass and bottle in front of him. 

“Are you done your tasks?” Jaehyun questions, pouring himself a glass of the alcohol. 

“Yes sir” you reply. 

“Go home then” Jaehyun responds, chugging the drink down his throat in one gulp. 

“Thank you sir” you reply, to which Jaehyun just nods. The atmosphere between you two is unexplainable. Weird. 

Day two of working with Jaehyun is no better. He’s narky. Worse than yesterday.

“Coffee” Jaehyun demands, as he’s busy writing on the documents in front of him.

You bring him his coffee, leaving it in front of him and go back to your work.

“The coffee isn’t nice” Jaehyun announces, shoving the drink further away from him.

“Would you like me to make you a ne-”

“No, you’ve put me off the whole idea of it now” Jaehyun huffs, eyes flicking between the documents and his computer screen.

“Sorry” you sigh, before returning to your desk. 

“Sorry what?”

“Sorry sir” 

“That’s what i thought”

The nice lady who greeted you on the first day was right. He is a lot. You never thought he would grow into such an arrogant person, but here he is. 

“Sir, you have a call with Mr Huang in ten minutes” you announce as you look at the schedule in front of you. 

Jaehyun nearly chokes when you say it. “Ten minutes? You have one fucking job and you decide to tell me ten minutes in advanced? You’re fucking useless” Jaehyun shouts, very pissed off at this point, before storming out of the office. 

Ouch. Jaehyun never, ever raised his voice at you before. Never. Jaehyun would always be so calm, so collected. He never once called you anything degrading, outside of the bedroom that is. After sex, he would even go as far as assuring you know that you are none of the derogatory names he called you, always praising you. This hurts, a lot. 

A few moments later, Jaehyun enters the room again, arms full of files and a freshly made cup of coffee, one he made himself after your previous attempt. His face still carries anger. 

“Do you want me to help you carry th-”

“No, your help isn’t necessary. Just note down the meeting details” Jaehyun cuts you off bluntly, before beginning the call.

A week into the job, and it’s been one hell of a week. No matter what you do, Jaehyun seems to be angry at you. No matter how hard you try, it’s not enough for him. Slightly feeling like deja vu. 

“Mr Jung?” you question sheepishly, standing in front of his desk. 

“I prefer sir, but what?” Jaehyun responds, still focusing on his work. 

“I know you don’t like me and that’s okay, but, is this personal? or is it that you just don’t like the way i work?”

Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow, dropping his pen, folding his arms over his chest and staring at you intensely. “So you’re getting bold?” 

“I-”

“I’m your boss, and you’re speaking out to me”

“It’s not like th-” 

“Then what’s it like? Hm?” 

You stay silent, regretting ever opening your mouth. 

“To me, y/n, it seems one of us is being extremely unprofessional, and that someone is certainly not me” Jaehyun starts. “I hate unprofessionalism, it’s something i will never be. You don’t get to come up to me all soppy because i think you’re not doing a good job. I didn’t ask you to do a shit job, nor do i pay you to do a shit job. So change. I don’t want this unprofessional shit from you again, do i make myself clear?” 

“Y-yes sir” you stutter, “i’m s-sorry” 

“Mhmm” Jaehyun responds. Jaehyun returns to his work, accidentally pushing one of the documents he was working on off the side of the desk, pages going everywhere. 

“For fuck sa-”

“It’s okay sir, i’ll pick them up” you reply, bending down to gather the documents before Jaehyun could get up. 

Jaehyun can’t help it. He can’t help but to look at your ass in that skirt he finds oh so sexy as you are bent down beside his desk. Lewd thoughts begin to fill Jaehyun’s mind, thinking back to old times with the two of you. His mind also strays to thinking of how good it would feel, fucking you at his office desk. But Jaehyun is a professional man after all, as he claims. 

Jaehyun awkwardly clears his throat and returns his gaze to the work in front of him, right before you stand up and hand him the documents. “Here you go sir” you smile softly, allowing the documents to sit carefully on the desk, completely oblivious to Jaehyun’s antics only moments ago. 

“You can go no” Jaehyun announces, rubbing his temples, you assume to relive some stress. “Tomorrow, i have a lot of work to get through. I’ll be working extra hours, and so will you. Probably working until midnight or after”

“Oh” you reply. That’s a lot of overtime. You are always so drained by the end of a 8-6 hour day with Jaehyun, you can’t even imagine how you’ll feel by the end of tomorrow. 

“You’ll get payed accordingly, don’t worry. Just clock in and clock out and you’ll get payed for the hours you work, and receive double pay for the hours you work after 8pm” Jaehyun looks up at you, waiting for you to approve. 

“Okay sir” 

“Good. Well, see you tomorrow then, you can go”

The second you leave the office, a deflated sigh leaves your lips. As if the embarrassing discussion you had to have with Jaehyun wasn’t enough, now you have to deal with him for hours extra tomorrow. At least you’ll get good money for it. 

What you aren’t aware of as you exit the building, is the state you left Jaehyun in. As soon as you leave the office, Jaehyun locks the door, ensuring he has no surprise visitors. When Jaehyun returns to his desk, he unbuckles his belt, ridding himself of his slacks and boxers and sitting in his seat, bare legs against the cold leather. 

Jaehyun throws his head back the second his hand meets his hard length, finally getting some well needed release. A small, airy moan escapes Jaehyun’s lips as he runs his thumb over his angry tip, collecting up his pre cum before he starts lazily pumping his length. 

Jaehyun releases heavy breaths, with one imagine in his mind as he pumps his dick faster, his grip tightening. “Mmh fuck” he groans, the images in his mind making him harder and harder by the second, as his pace just quickens. Jaehyun is quick to unbutton his dress shirt with his free hand, knowing where this is going. 

“Fuck y/n” he moans deeply, getting completely lost in his pleasure, images of you and him performing far from professional ministrations cloud his mind. 

“Mmh wanna fuck you so good” he groans, as he feels his dick twitch in his hand. “Fuck” he breaths out, squeezing tighter, teasing his tip again. 

Loud moans and groans fall from Jaehyun’s lips as he reaches his high, his load covering his toned abs. “Fuck” he breathlessly sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

Jaehyun is very glad he soundproofed his office now. Moaning your assistants name certainly isn’t professional, and Jaehyun has a reputation to uphold, even within the four walls of his own company. 

The next morning, you are determined for this day to go well. It’s too long of a shift for Jaehyun to be in a pissy mood. 

Today, you reach the office before Jaehyun, coffee in hand. You leave the coffee on Jaehyun’s desk, before heading to your own and setting yourself up for the day. 

Jaehyun is surprised to say the least that you were for once, in the office before him, coffee waiting for him. Maybe his talk with you finally knocked some punctuality into you. 

Jaehyun didn’t say anything to you, but what you’ve come to learn with Jaehyun is that silence is better than words. When he’s silent, he has no complaints, or at least none prominent enough for him to voice. When he speaks on the other hand, he is complaining, the vast majority of the time. 

Before you realise it, it’s already 9pm, three hours past your usual finish time. “Take a break” Jaehyun says, before standing up from his desk and walking to the couch on the other side of the large office, taking a seat and admiring the night time view of the city. He always found it relaxing, just watching the world go by, even if it is full of hustle and bustle. 

Jaehyun looks over at you, as you just silently sit at your desk scrolling through your phone. He returns his gaze to the window before speaking up. “You can come here”.

You whip your head around to face him, kind of shocked at his words. “Oh, uh, it’s fine, don’t worry i wi-”

“Y/n” Jaehyun says, turning his gaze to meet yours. “Come sit here”. 

You take a deep breath, although a shaky one, before standing up and making your way over to the couch, sitting on the opposite side to Jaehyun. Not daring to look at him, you also look out at the beautiful view, a small smile creeping onto your lips at the sight of the city. 

“Nice view, isn’t it?” Jaehyun questions, throwing you back. He hasn’t tried to speak to you at all unless necessary since you got here. 

“Yeah it’s really nice. You’re lucky you got such a beautiful building” you reply nervously, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Jaehyun. 

“I am” he replies, “one of my dads associates happened to be selling it when i was buying and gave me a good deal on it”  

“I see” you reply awkwardly. What is even happening?

“Mmh. I’m very proud of this place. Very proud of my company” 

“You should be. It’s a beautiful building and the company is so successful. You built it by your self from the ground up, that’s something to be proud of sir” you reply, eyes now staring at Jaehyun’s side profile. 

“I’m very proud. This company means the world to me” Jaehyun replies, your eyes still glued to his side profile. 

“Are you just going to stare?” Jaehyun questions, with a raised eye brow, causing you to panic and blush, breaking your gaze on him immediately. 

“No sir, sorry i wasn’t s-staring i was jus-”

“Just what?” Jaehyun questions, amused at how easily flustered you are. Still are. 

“There was just something, on your face” you lie, trying to play it off. 

“Then come get it”

“What?”

“Come get it off my face then” Jaehyun states as he stands up from his seat, waiting for you to do the same. 

You stand up, looking Jaehyun in the eyes, as he nods, signalling he meant what he said. Obviously, there isn’t anything on Jaehyun’s face but you’ve gotten yourself into this situation. You take a step forward to be directly in front of Jaehyun, your eye contact not once breaking. Your eyes move to Jaehyun’s cheek, where you decide to pretend to wipe. Grabbing onto Jaehyun’s forearm with one hand, you wipe his cheek with the other. 

“There” you whisper. Your bodies are dangerously close. Jaehyun has still not taken his strong gaze off of your face, causing the air between you to be heavy. Your eyes meet his again and you feel so small, so vulnerable, your stomach full of butterflies. 

“Back to work” Jaehyun announces, stepping past you and walking back to his desk, a smug smirk on his lips, leaving you in shock behind him. 

A couple of more hours pass by, and before you know it, it’s 12:30 am. Jaehyun sighs, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can call your boyfriend or whoever to collect you if you don’t drive here yourself”. 

“Oh, i don’t have a boyfriend sir” you reply, internally slapping yourself for so unnecessarily announcing that. “I’ll be walking home sir”. 

Jaehyun looks up at you, his eyebrows knitted. “Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t walk home by yourself in the dark at nearly 1 am. I’ll drop you home” 

“No sir honestl-”

“I said i’ll drop you home” Jaehyun replies sternly. “No if’s or but’s”  

The drive home was short as you don’t live far, but none the less, it was awkward. Neither of you speaking, the only noise being the radio quietly playing, and the sound of the cars engine. 

“Thank you for the lift home sir” you smile gently, as you step out of the sleek, black, expensive sports car. 

“It’s no problem” Jaehyun replied, and you could have sworn you saw his lips turn up at the edges slightly. “I’ll see you Monday” and with that, he drove off into the night.  

The next week to come was surprisingly bearable. It’s Friday, and you’ve gotten through the week without any big issues with Jaehyun, no big arguments, no leaving work feeling like busting into tears. 

Just like last Friday, Jaehyun has asked you to stay behind with him for a few hours, to finish up everything before the weekend.

“Let’s take a break” Jaehyun announces as he stands up, stretching before moving over to the couch like last week. You assume just like last week, you have permission to sit on the couch with him, and so you do. 

“Did i say you could sit on the couch with me?” Jaehyun questions. 

“Oh sorry sir i-”

“I’m kidding, chill” he chuckles softly, something you certainly haven’t seen in four years. Something you missed so dearly. 

Jaehyun drapes his arm over the back of the couch, stretching it passed your shoulders. You turn your head away, nervous that he’ll see how red you are. 

“It’s nice to see you still blush over the smallest of things” Jaehyun teases, eyes on the view ahead of him, and to him, the view isn’t the city. 

“Do not” you pout, turning to look at him to see him already staring at you. 

“Cute” he simply says, tapping your pouted bottom lip with his finger. “But you were always cute” he continues, eyes locked on yours. 

He places his hand on your cheek, caressing it gently. “You were always cute, but i always found you so sexy, even now, you look so sexy for me every day. Make it so hard for me to concentrate baby. Always wearing those fucking skirts and dresses that drive me crazy. Then if that wasn’t enough, bending over in them right in my face baby. So naughty of you, distracting your boss like that”. 

Jaehyun’s eyes are dark, bold, looking at your shocked eyes. Were you hearing him correctly?

“Sir i-”

“Shh baby, no talking. Bosses orders” Jaehyun winked before kissing under your ear, sucking on it lightly. He remembers you love getting kissed here. His mouth moves lower on your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses in his trail, as he sucks harsh marks all over your neck. 

“S-sir, we shouldn’t be doing this” you whisper breathily, although your words contradict your actions as you grab Jaehyun’s toned thigh. He’s bulked up more since university. 

“Who’s the boss here baby?” Jaehyun asks against your neck.

“You sir”

“Mhmm, so listen to me like a good girl. I’m saying it’s okay, as long as you wan-”

“Oh course i want to” you cut him off, your voice a whisper. 

“Mmh, so needy for me, are you gonna be a needy slut for me?” Jaehyun questions, eyes now back on yours. 

You nod, feeling so small under Jaehyun’s burning eyes. That’s not enough for Jaehyun though. 

“Words princess” he says sternly, placing his pointer finger under your chin, ensuring all your attention is on him. 

“Yes sir” you whisper. 

That’s all Jaehyun needed to hear, as he pulls you in by the back of your neck, connecting your lips for the first time in four years. A small gasp escapes your lips the second he pulls you in, Jaehyun using that opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He never changed, always impatient when you were kissing, adding tongue as soon as he possibly could. 

You move yourself to straddle Jaehyun’s lap, your lips never leaving each others, kissing each other with such hunger. “Mmh, you want me that bad huh?”

“Yes sir, so bad” you mumble against his lips. Jaehyun groans, lifting your skirt up to your waist to reveal your bare ass, a stringy thong the only thing covering it. 

“So sexy for me. Just me right?”

“Yes sir, only you, no one else” you breathe out. “Sir, can i please ride your thigh?” you ask shyly. 

Jaehyun places a chaste kiss on your lips, “how could i say no when you ask me so nicely doll?”

Jaehyun helps you to pull off your thong, leaving your lower half completely bare, before he places his hand on your waist helping you align your dripping heat with his thigh.

A soft moan escapes your lips the second your heat touches his thigh, before you even begin moving.

“Mmh i missed your pretty noises” Jaehyun whispers in your year, nibbling softly, his voice sensual, driving you crazy.

You place your hands on Jaehyun’s broad shoulders for support, before you slowly begin rocking yours hips against him, heavy breaths and whimpers escaping your lips.

Jaehyun can feel your wetness already through his slacks, proud of how wet you already are for him. “Good girl” he mutters against your neck, dragging at your shirt to have more space to suck on.

As you pick up your pace, you can’t help but throw your head back in pleasure, as Jaehyun flexed his thigh muscles underneath you. “Mmh sir, feels so good” you moan, as Jaehyun now unbottons your shirt, moving his mouth further and further down your chest, littering your skin in hickeys. Marking you as his.

You’re so lost in your pleasure, so close to coming undone that your pace slows down, not being able to push through the feeling of the knot forming in your stomach.

Jaehyun notices, grabbing your hips and pushing them back and forth quickly against his thigh, resulting in loud moans and swear words to spill out from your lips.

“F-fuck sir, i’m gonna cum fuck, feels so good, i need to cum sir, please let me cum for you”

Jaehyun moves his thumb to your sensitive clit, rubbing clockwise circles around it at a rapid pace, “cum for me baby girl, show me how much of a good slut you are for me”

He didn’t have to tell you twice, as you come undone on Jaehyun’s thigh, completely soaking his slacks. Jaehyun deciding to tease, continues to stimulate your clit after you came down from your high.

“F-fuck fuck fuck stop, sir i already came stop” you moan at the overstimulation. You forgot how much he loves it.

Jaehyun finally pulls away his hand, bringing his fingers to your lips and immediately shoving them in your mouth, allowing you to suck on them.

“You taste so good baby hmm?” Jaehyun states, more so than questions, as you nod your head in agreement. “Such a good little slut for me angel. I missed you so so much, did you miss me?” Jaehyun questions, as he unclasps your bra, throwing it on the floor before latching his mouth around and running his flat tongue over your hard, sensitive nipple, squeezing the other one between his fingers. 

“Mmh fuck sir, yes i missed you so so much” you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling on it, causing Jaehyun to release a small moan against your nipple, the vibrations causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. 

“Sir” you moan, “this is so, wrong, so unprofessional”

“Fuck being professional” Jaehyun groans, lips still on your nipple.

Jaehyun moves back up to your lips, kissing them softly before whispering darkly, “I can’t wait to fill you up so good. Gonna make sure you can’t walk tomorrow doll”

“Sir please, fill me up, fuck me hard, i need you so badly” you whisper, need present in your voice. 

“So pretty and needy” Jaehyun coos, tucking a stand of hair behind your ear. “I can’t wait to hear you screaming for me”

With that Jaehyun practically rips his shirt off, pulling his slacks and boxers down almost as fast. You’re taken by surprise when Jaehyun grabs you in his arms, carrying your body back to his desk. Once he reaches the desk, you’re more surprised when he pushes everything off of his desk and onto the floor, placing you down on the desk. “Wanna make you feel so good baby girl” Jaehyun mutters against your neck, as he pumps himself in his hand.

“You always do” you whisper, pulling on his hair gently.

With no warning, Jaehyun aligns himself with you, snapping his hips inside of you, a scream leaving the back of your throat at his sudden action.

“Mmh fuck sir i forgot how big you are, how well you fill me up” you moan, pulling Jaehyun almost impossibly closer to you.

Jaehyun’s pace is ruthless, slamming his hips into you, filling the room with sounds of skin on skin and loud moans from the both of you. “So tight for me doll”

Jaehyun decides to change position, moving you from your seated position on his desk to having you bent over it, ass on perfect display for him. “So fucking sexy” he grunts, before pounding into you from behind, hitting your g spot with every strong thrust.

“F-fuck sir, feels so fucking good” you moan loudly, grabbing onto the desk for support as Jaehyun pounds into you mercilessly.

“You look so fucking good like this, bent over and needy for me. You need my cock so bad don’t you?” Jaehyun moans, his head throw back in pleasure, always finding great motivation in praise from you.

“Yes sir, fuck i need your cock so badly. No one fucks me like you do, you fill me up so good” you moan, knowing it’s driving him crazy.

“Fuck” Jaehyun moans out breathily, feeling his dick twitching inside of you. He knows he’s close.

Jaehyun grabs you by the ponytail, pulling you up so your back is against his, his pace not faltering for a second. Jaehyun’s hands immediately find their way to where they know you need them, one hand pinching your left nipple harshly, while the other hand is rubbing quick circles on your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head in pleasure.

“F-fuck sir i’m gonna c-cum fuck” you moan, grabbing onto Jaehyun’s forearm, looking for any sort of support.

Jaehyun groans in your ear, “mmh cum for me pretty girl” and that’s all it took for you to come undone. Both you and Jaehyun fill the room with moans, as you release your loads together, fucking each other through your highs. You feel weak as you grab onto Jaehyun with all you can. You always enjoyed sex with Jaehyun, but this, this was nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

Jaehyun places a soft kiss on your forehead, “let’s lay down, mhm?” Jaehyun questions, to which you nod in response, not recovered enough to give him a proper answer.

Jaehyun carried you in his arms back to the couch, before laying you both down, cuddling you in his arms. “You did so good for me my angel” Jaehyun whispers sweet words of praise as he runs a hand through your hair.

“I missed you a lot sir” you reply, looking at him with a soft smile. You really did miss him, but you can’t help but be thankful for how things worked out all those years ago. Everything happens for a reason, and who would have know what would have happened if that day didn’t go how it did. You may have never gotten to meet Jaehyun as a fully grown and matured adult.

“Don’t be silly my baby, you know it’s Jaehyun” he replies, a loving smile on his lips.

“I know your name is Jaehyun obviously but you wanted me to call you sir” you pout.

“I did, because it’s professional. But, i will let you in on a little secret. I have every one else call me Mr Jung” Jaehyun chuckles softly, placing a kiss to your nose as you scrunch it up.

“Why do you make me call- oh” you blush, realising why he makes you and no one else call him sir.

“You know i always liked it when you called me that” he teases, poking at your side, causing you to roll your eyes.

There’s silence for a few minutes before Jaehyun finally speaks up, “hey y/n?”

“Mhm?” you reply, drawing little love hearts on Jaehyun’s chest. 

“Did you mean it when you said i have an average sized dick?” 

“What?”

“The last time we fucked, and you were angry at me, you told me my dick was average sized”

“You fucking dork” you giggle slapping his chest lightly, “how did you even remember that?”

“It bruised my ego” Jaehyun replies jokingly.

“Well tell your dick’s bruised ego that it’s much bigger than average” you giggle against his chest

“Will do” Jaehyun replies, a small chuckle leaving his lips. 

This time, it’s you that breaks the silence that washes over you “I really did miss you” you pout against his chest. “I like this. A lot”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun questions.

“Yeah” you reply. “I like having sex with you, i like cuddling with you, i like joking with you, i like talking with you”

“Well then, i guess i’m gonna have to correct my past mistakes and act on it, hmm?”

You look up at Jaehyun, seeing his genuine eyes. “You want to act on it?” you ask, looking at Jaehyun with doe eyes.

“There’s nothing i want more than for us to work out. The day you started hating me, i hated myself. I never forgave myself for losing you, before i could even call you mine. I’m not going to let that happen again. Life brought us back together, and this time, i’m not letting you go”

4 years later

“Ah Mr and Ms Jung, welcome back from the honeymoon” you receptionist happily exclaims, as you and Jaehyun walk hand and hand into the company building. 

“Thank you very much” Jaehyun smiles appreciatively. 

“Was it a nice break?” 

“It was beautiful” you reply “it was so nice to get away for a week, leave work behind. But we’re back and have our company to run” you giggle. 

“Mhmm, all three of us” Jaehyun smiles, wrapping his arms around you from behind and placing them on your stomach, where the tiniest bump has made itself present. 

Your receptionist gasp, eyes glowing with excitement, “You don’t mean you’re expecting, do you?”

“We are! Baby Jung will be making an appearance in a few months” you smile, placing your hands atop of Jaehyun’s, your fingers playing with his wedding ring. 

A lot has changed in the last four years. After this crazy world dragged you back together, you and Jaehyun worked perfectly. Dating not only the love of your life, but also your best friend was the easiest thing to do. Within only a few months of dating, you moved into Jaehyun’s apartment with him, which a meek year and a half later turned into you both buying a house together. 

With the company expanding rapidly, and Jaehyun deciding he wants you to be his forever, Jaehyun gave you half the company. He knew he couldn’t handle it all on his own anymore, and he knew that you both balanced each other out, one of you always bringing something to the table that the other didn’t, making you perfect to be ceo’s together. 

As soon as he signed over your half of the company to you, he was quick in proposing to you, wanting to make you each others officially for the rest of your lives. Three weeks before the wedding you were both blessed with finding out that baby Jung was going to be with you in nine months time, the news putting you both on cloud nine. 

The wedding was a beautiful, expensive and elegant day. Very you and Jaehyun. You celebrated the day with close friends, family and work associates, and you could never in a million years have dreamed of how magical the day was. Now, here you are sat where you and Jaehyun’s second chapter began, on the couch in the office, looking out at the beautiful view of the city. 

“Good to be back?” Jaehyun questions, as you lay your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around you. 

“Very good” you reply squeezing his free hand. 

“Who would have thought this would be our life, huh?” Jaehyun states, a lazy smile on his face, mind replaying all the memories you’ve made together. 

“I know” you sigh contently, “who would have thought?” 

“I love you Ms Jung”

“I love you too Mr Jung” 

With that Jaehyun leans in and presses a gentle kiss on your lips, which ends up turning into a slightly more heated make out session. Jaehyun hums in satisfaction as he brings one hand to squeeze your covered boob, causing you to pull away. 

“My Jung” you dramatically gasp, “that’s not very professional of you”

[firelordzukohere]

Interior Décor

Hello!

When I made this 4 chapters, I initially thought: “Oh 4 weeks? That’s a long time!”

Why didn’t anyone tell me it wasn’t that long!?! I feel like I just started this and I’m already sad it’s over! Please let me know if you want an epilogue or even some cute little one shots. I already have one in my head but I want to know if anyone would even be interested in it. Please let me know!

Finally,

Thank you everyone who read, re-blogged, liked, commented, or messaged me about this story. I haven’t posted a Zuko fanfiction since I was probably 15 years old and the support I received then wasn’t half as much as I have now. You guys are amazing and wonderful and every single notification I got made me smile brightly. I’d seriously get people asking me why I’m smiling at my phone so much. I’m so grateful to each and every one of you for everything, from my whole heart. Thank you so much. 

Please enjoy the last chapter of Interior Décor! I truly, truly hope you like it!

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Zuko X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Slight Aangst(heh), and some implications

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Iroh felt it was time for the Palace to reflect the time of Peace and Love that Zuko promised five years earlier at his coronation. He takes it upon himself to hire an interior decorator to help his nephew out and work together. What he didn’t expect was for Zuko to possibly find his own peace and love in the process.

Chapter 3: Jacquard >> Chapter 4: Trompe l’oeil >> Epilogue

The next morning, (Y/N) woke up to a chasm in her chest the size of the Earth Kingdom. It was as if several Earthbenders decided to practice their bending inside of her and leave a massive chunk missing from within. She already yearned to see Zuko again.

Burying her face further into her pillow she moaned. Why did they have to get along so well? Why couldn't she have just worked with Iroh the whole time instead of the Fire Lord? Didn't he have people who were supposed to handle the menial stuff like her, instead of himself? She never considered the fact that all the advisors that would come up to him throughout the couple of weeks wouldn't really stay around much. They always seemed busy doing other things, leaving the Fire Lord to his own devices. Leaving him to spend his days with her, laughing, talking, comfortable silences, and dancing.

She remembered how it felt being led around the floor by him. The moment was so intimate, so right, and she wanted to dance with him all over again. It was like a cloud carried her around, a warm, attractive cloud.

Another groan escaped her lips before she pulled herself out of bed to go and make some tea. Her aunt was already outside meditating for the morning, so she had to be silent as she set the pot on its stand and bent some fire to warm it up.

The silence was disturbed when there were three knocks on their front door. Her aunt looked over at her, brows furrowed in confusion at who could be here this early in the morning.

(Y/N) walked toward the door and slid it open to reveal a courier holding a large package wrapped in intricate silk.

"(Y/N)?" He asked, and she nodded in confirmation. The man shoved the package into her hand before rushing back to his ostrich horse and riding away. She stared at him dumbfounded for a moment and then balanced the package in one hand, shutting the door with the other.

"Ooh! A gift! From the Fire Lord?" Her aunt gushed walking up behind her to examine the beautiful box. (Y/N)'s face burned before she moved to the counter to unwrap the present. She wasn't sure if she hoped it was from him or not. If it was, that meant her aunt could possibly spread more rumors about her having an affair with the Fire Lord, but if it wasn't she was sure there would be a twinge of sadness that this random encounter wasn't from him.

As she removed the silk, opened the box and lifted what was inside, she gasped. It was a beautiful dress, very obviously Fire Nation red, but golden lace lined the halter neckline, and the bodice was covered in red roses with green leafs. The skirt was massive as she continued to pull it from the box. Once the item was fully out she couldn't help but admire the beauty.

However, she was slightly annoyed. This must have cost him at least a hundred gold pieces. She knew she had told him that her wardrobe did not consist of a dress that would be acceptable for the celebration, but that didn't mean he had to go out and buy her a new one!

"Oooh look! There's sleeves!" Her aunt said next to her pulling out sleeves that were the same gold to match the neckline. "And a note!" She handed (Y/N) the note and looked at her intensely to see who it was from.

(Y/N),

You said you didn't have a gown and that's the reason you wouldn't come tonight. I had my tailors work over time to make you this because I cannot imagine spending this evening celebrating you, without you there. I will not make a big fuss about you, so you can slip in silently and leave whenever you feel, but please come, at least to see how amazed everyone is going to be at the site of your hard work. Please come, for me.

I truly hope to see you tonight.

Zuko

P.S. I know you're probably worried about my tailors, they were not overworked and have been overly compensated for their duties.  

(Y/N)'s face was as red as the gown as her aunt ripped the note from her hands to read it. With a gasp she looked up at her niece and grinned furiously.

"Exactly how close did you get with the Fire Lord during this time? You implied he was in meetings most of your work days." Her tone pointed and (Y/N) frowned. "Dear, this note isn't just a client 'Thank you' this appears to be a subtle declaration."

Grunting angrily, (Y/N) shoved the dress back into the box and snatched the note and the sleeves from her aunt, forcing them inside as well.

"It doesn't matter, I'm not going tonight anyway. It's highly unprofessional of me to go to this party especially in a dress the Fire Lord had specifically made for me," she grumbled. "I'll just return the garment tomorrow and explain to him how offensive it is for him to expect to buy my attendance to the celebration." Her voice a low hiss as she pushed passed her aunt and into her bedroom, sliding the door shut angrily.

Sitting on the bed, she stared down at the box in her hands. She wasn't exactly angry at Zuko's gift, but she was angry that now she was put in this position. If she went, her aunt would spread all over town that she and the Fire Lord had more than a professional relationship and if she didn't she would waste the tailors' hard work and possibly hurt Zuko.

Who cares what anyone else thinks?

His words rang in her mind as she stared at the golden lace. She honestly only cared what he thought and the fact that he wanted her to go tonight really resonated through her.

Please come, for me.

With a sigh, she placed the box down beside her and dropped her face into the palms of her hands. The internal battle she was dealing with was ripping her apart.

It was easier said than done to ignore what people thought and said about her. If she went tonight, the entire nation's eyes could possibly be watching, scrutinizing her and the Fire Lord.

What was she supposed to do?

Zuko's voice filled her mind once again, "We're supposed to do whatever makes us happy." Why was he always right? He was obviously learning from the notoriously wise Iroh and now passing that wisdom to her.

There was a knock on her door causing her to lift her face from her hands.

"Come in," she mumbled and watched as the door slid to the side and revealed her aunt holding a cup of the tea she had forgotten was brewing.

Sitting down beside her niece, her aunt handed her the cup and then sighed, the deep sound filling the tension stagnant room. While (Y/N) always had a great relationship with her aunt, a strain had formed when her aunt had spread the rumor about her and her first client. She wasn't sure if her aunt ever realized that their bond had weakened slightly, but she tried her best to act as if nothing was wrong.

"I know you know this," her aunt started, "but sometimes I struggle with keeping to myself. I've been alone for a long time. Your uncle died young, your mother and father shut me out after, insisting that I needed to find a new husband or I'd bring shame to the family, and my parents were never really around after your mother and I were married off. Any chance I can, to form a friendship, I take, even if it means hurting the people I love dearly in the process." The older woman frowned as she pat (Y/N)'s knee gently, "I've hurt you with my gossip, and I realize that. I was so excited for your new business and when I thought your first client could also potentially be someone to share your life with, I was happy for you..." trailing off, she couldn't help but sigh again, "but I didn't expect people to take what I had said and turn it into something to harm you. I didn't understand why these women began saying you were a homewrecker when it was common knowledge his wife had already left him. Instead of shutting those rumors down though, I made them worse, and in all honesty, it didn't stop me from creating new ones either."

(Y/N) felt the tears sting the corner of her eyes, begging to be freed from her, to relieve and soothe the pain she was enduring at the memories. They wanted to wash away the sadness. She loved her aunt, but the woman definitely caused a lot of hurt in her life. Even now, as she really did find herself fond of the Fire Lord, she couldn't help but hold back due to the idea that her aunt could spread rumors that would hurt her again. Instead of allowing her pain to show, she gulped down the tea, hoping that it would ease up some of the tension in her body. Once she finished she rested the cup on the bed and stared at her hands, waiting for her aunt to finish whatever she wanted to say.

"I hurt you when I accused you of having anything but a professional relationship with the Fire Lord. I know you're a strong woman who has had to battle many hardships in her life, especially when it comes to love and happiness, and I know I didn't make any of that easier on you even though I was supposed to. For that, I am genuinely sorry." Turning to the box next to her, she lifted the note out and handed it to (Y/N), "I think you should go." The woman whispered and (Y/N)'s head shot up to stare at her aunt. "He clearly cares for you, it's written in this note without even saying it outright. You've been even happier than normal these last couple of weeks whenever you wake up to go see him and when you come home after spending the day with him. I haven't seen that look since you first started your business and you shined at the opportunity to do something you loved. (Y/N) don't let this opportunity of love slip away, even if there is a risk of what people might say. Let them talk about you. As long as you're happy and you've got what you want, let them boil in their own gossip and rumors."

The sob escaped, and (Y/N) shoved her face into her aunt's neck, wrapping her arms around the older woman. Letting her niece cry it out, (Y/N)'s aunt rubbed her back reassuringly and held her tight.

"Thank you," (Y/N) whispered causing her aunt to smile and caress her hair as she pulled back.

"I love you, my dear," the woman smiled, and stood up quickly. "Now, we've got until sunset to get you dolled up and ready for this celebration. When you walk into that room, no one will be able to keep their eyes off of you, especially not that Fire Lord." Her aunt winked before pulling her up and dragging her out of the house toward the shopping district.

Just after sunset, (Y/N) was standing inside her house, dressed in her gown, with her hair curled and flowing around her face, only a small portion was pulled back into a proper bun with golden leaves pinned around it in a circle. She had gotten her makeup done, with golden and maroon hues to accent her dress, and simple gold sandals hidden underneath the dress for easy walking and dancing.

"You look like the queen of the Fire Nation," her aunt gushed as she finished tying the back of her dress. "The poor Fire Lord won't know what hit him when you arrive," she swooned as she came back around to give her niece a final once over. "The party has most likely already begun, so I suggest you get into the carriage now. It's better to arrive fashionably late where everyone will be able to get a good look at you in your grand entrance," she teased.

(Y/N) hugged her aunt and thanked her for everything. She was grateful the woman had talked her into attending the celebration and helped her prepare for it. Their embrace, though only lasting a few moments, seemed to help repair the crack that had been formed for years. When they released, (Y/N) smiled and made her way outside to the carriage they had requested for the evening. A palanquin would have been too expensive, but a carriage was nice, especially since it wasn't too breezy outside to ruin her hair.

After one final wave to her aunt, she was on her way to the Palace, both nervous and excited to see the Fire Lord again.

His eyes darted around, wondering if he'd be able to catch a look at a familiar face with beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes and long (Y/H/C) hair. While he knew that she didn't have to come, he had hoped he had possibly convinced her to with his gift and his note. Though he wanted to spew out in the letter that he didn't want another day to go by without seeing her face, he had to instead be smart about it, in case she didn't return the feelings that swelled within him.

Smiles and hopeful eyes surrounded him as he made his way through the brand new ballroom, filled with diplomats and various other important people that didn't really feel very important to him. Several women had already come up telling him he owed them a dance or two, to which he merely smiled and noncommittally nodded. There was only one person he wanted to dance with tonight and if she wasn't going to be there, he wouldn't step a foot onto that floor without her.

"Ah! Fire Lord Zuko!" A Fire Sage stepped into his path with a bow. "I've been meaning to introduce you to my daughter, Tora," the man gestured to the young woman beside him dressed in a long golden dress with her hair pulled into a tall ponytail. "She's been talking nonstop about this party and the ability to finally dance within the Fire Nation Palace." The Sage chuckled and shoved his daughter toward Zuko.

"It's an honor to meet you Tora," Zuko said, bowing with respect, watching as she flushed but not returning the motion. She giggled and rested her hand on his bicep, squeezing slightly.

"It's my honor, Fire Lord, my father has spoken nothing but good words about you since getting the opportunity to work with you after you took over from your father, shame he didn't turn out to be the man everyone thought he would be." Zuko tensed slightly. No, he turned out to be everything everyone wanted him to be, because the Fire Nation blindly followed his father due to the previous ideals his grandfather and great grandfather had set in their time.

"Yes," Zuko said, already losing interest in the conversation at her words, "it's quite a shame…" he mumbled, looking around to see if anyone could spare him. That's when he spotted a familiar face. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go check on the food for this evening," he rushed away, pulling his arm from her grasp in the process.

Striding up to his hero, Zuko pat his uncle on the back with a grateful smile. Iroh turned to look at him, his face full of roast duck that was being served on a stick.

"Nephew!" Iroh mumbled with his mouth packed, "this party is wonderful! The ballroom is beautiful." Zuko nodded his head, looking around at the glow of the lights from the chandeliers and the ornate imagery of dragons and fire painted into the ceiling. "Speaking of beauty, where is the wonderful creature behind this room? I assumed she'd be here to celebrate with you." The older man said with a wink. Zuko's face flushed for a moment before he took a piece of duck off of Iroh's skewer and shoved it into his own mouth, taking a second to come up with a proper reply to his uncle's very loaded question.

"I've invited her, but she implied that she didn't really like the idea of celebrating herself, she felt it unprofessional," his voice thick with sadness as he thought about her not wanting to be around him. Iroh patted his nephew's face and smiled.

"Don't count your losses yet," he said reassuringly, "she could still come." Zuko nodded his head, hopeful but still disappointed.

He wasn't sure how it happened so quickly. It felt like he went from loathing the idea of someone spending several weeks in his house, going over everything wrong with it, to counting the time until he'd be able to see her again after she had just left for the day. Their bond formed so quickly it didn't seem to be something solid for him to consider, but no matter how hard he tried to banish it from his mind, she just walked right back into his head, perfection and all, telling him that it wasn't that easy to get rid of her. He loved how strong she was but also that she cared so much about him and even his uncle in the small time they knew each other. She was fiery and passionate about her job and he wondered if that would translate the same into a relationship as well… a relationship with a certain head of the Fire Nation.

However, he was worried that he'd never be able to see her again. What if she didn't come tonight? He'd be stuck wondering what would have happened if she had. Would he admit to her his feelings? Would she have returned them? Would they have danced together? Kissed?

Zuko let out a deep sigh and removed himself from his head, turning his attention back on his uncle who seemed to be examining the table of food for something else to enjoy. Shaking his head with an amused grin, Zuko grabbed a slice of ash banana bread and popped it into his mouth, enjoying the warm, sweet taste.

"Sir," his advisor Shuro appeared next to him, "the council would like for you to have a quick word with them in the chambers, it appears there are some rumors of an attack on the Earth Kingdom by Fire Nation rebels," he whispered. Zuko groaned and nodded his head, gesturing for his advisor to lead the way, also grabbing Iroh by the arm and pulling him along.

He wanted this to be a no work event, where he could enjoy himself, his people could enjoy themselves and maybe, just maybe, he could spend the evening with someone he cared about.

As (Y/N) entered the ballroom, she couldn't help but notice several eyes land on her. Scrutinizing  faces from several women and lots of whispering began as she strode into the room, looking around for the Fire Lord himself. She knew she could spot him in a crowd of thousands, so when she didn't see him, she had to assume he wasn't there. Frowning, she made her way quickly to the food table to find something to distract her from the ache in her chest at the fact that he was most likely busy with someone else, whether that be a possible courtship or someone from the council. She picked up a single tea sandwich and nibbled on it, looking around the grand room at all the people. Some were dancing, which made her smile, others were swaying while they talked, a few were laughing and drinking heavily. It was a wonderful atmosphere filled with merriment and joy, something the Fire Nation had been without for the last one hundred years, of their own accord, of course.

Women were dressed in beautiful gowns some Fire Nation colored, others from various Nations like the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes, some even differing from the cultures and made up of glorious silks that were every color imaginable. She was definitely grateful for Zuko providing her with the dress, because anything she had remotely close to acceptable would have paled dramatically in comparison.

Munching on her sandwich, she watched as a man strode toward her with a smooth smile on his face. Her heart dropped knowing that this wasn't going to be good, he looked ready to hunt and she didn't feel like being the prey today.

"What's a beautiful woman like you doing over here by yourself?" He asked, flipping his head to the side and flashing a toothy smile at her. Internally groaning, she returned a curve of her lips that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I'm waiting for someone," she said politely.

"Obviously he's a fool for leaving you alone," the man sidled up to her, reaching behind her to grab a fig and attempting to seductively eat it while staring her in the eye. She let out an unamused giggle, it sounded more like a sigh than a laugh, and shook her head.

"He's just a busy man," she amended, but it didn't help. After finishing his fig, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him.

"Let's dance while you wait for him, though I'm not classically trained, I can hold my own," his grip on her fingers was tense but she managed to rip herself from his grasp and frown.

"I'll pass thank you," she replied harshly. Before he could say another word, she stormed away, attempting to look for any relief in sight. That's when she saw an escape and ducked for it, hoping no one noticed as she slipped down the stairs and out into the beautiful garden. The turtle ducks quacked happily in the glow of the moonlight that now lit up the whole garden.

She let out a breath she had apparently been holding in since her departure from the creepy man, and leaned against the large tree in relief. Tonight was not exactly going how she planned. While it may have been her imagination, she wanted to walk into the room, have everyone stop to look at her in awe, and then watch as the Fire Lord shoved his way through the crowed to pull her toward him in front of everyone and kiss her deeply.

Instead she had been scoffed at, hidden in a corner hoping that maybe she could find some peace in food, only to be rudely manhandled by some obviously drunken man who didn't understand she wasn't interested in him. She felt like a fool for thinking that tonight would be magical, like those tales her mother used to read to her when she was young.

Zuko was too busy for her, she should have expected that. He was the Fire Lord for crying out loud, why did she think he would drop everything for her? Maybe it was because he had during the redecoration… or maybe it's because she hoped that his feelings for her were somehow as strong as hers for him.

Again, she was just a fool though, thinking that the Lord of the Fire Nation would actually see anything in her other than a decorator. That's what she had wanted wasn't it? A professional relationship that didn't come with the backlash of rumors and heartache? Why did she feel so empty though at that thought? Why is it, instead of picturing Zuko as her client, she only saw him as her friend, and even potentially more? Why did she even come here tonight?

Zuko was finally free from his meeting, grateful they had found a solution for the possible Earth Kingdom attack. Now he was able to enjoy the night and freely walk around and mingle.

With his gaze once again darting around the room in hopes of seeing her, he realized he was disappointed that she seemed nowhere to be found. At the sight of the Fire Lord back within the party, several women rushed forward, begging him for their dance now. Zuko cringed outwardly and held up his hands assuring the women that he wasn't really the dancing type. He insisted that he needed a bit of air and politely circled around them to escape their yearning eyes.

The Fire Lord made his way to the garden, silently going down the steps, hoping no one had spotted him in his departure. He froze though, when his eyes landed on a familiar figure crouched down next to the pond, petting the turtle ducks with her finger.

"You came…" he breathed out relieved as he walked toward her. Her head turned to look at him and her face lit up. Standing tall, she watched as he strode up next to her, his face bright with a smile. "You…" he paused as his gaze finally examined her. "You look… good," he said awkwardly and then slammed his palm to his face, causing her to giggle.

"Thank you, it's a Fire Nation original," she teased, attempting to let him know she wasn't offended by his lack of words. "You look really nice too, but of course you always do in Fire Nation colors." His face burned at her compliment. Turning toward the party that still went on in the ballroom she smiled, "you sure know how to throw a party, Fire Lord Zuko, everyone really seems to be enjoying themselves."

"Are you?" He asked, curious as she was out here by herself. She looked back to him and nodded her head with the corner of her mouth turned up slightly.

"Yes, I just can't seem to keep myself away from this garden and these little darlings," the woman said, gesturing to the turtle ducks. "Have you gotten some time to relax and have a little fun?"

"Not really, but that's okay, I have a new bedroom I can use to unwind and relax in at night," he winked, finally gaining a bit of confidence to flirt with her. Another laugh escaped her and Zuko's heart swelled at the sound. "(Y/N), I'm really glad you came tonight. All day I dreaded the idea of having this party and not enjoying it with you." At his words, she blushed. "I also don't enjoy the fact that I won't be seeing you everyday anymore and I want to find a way to remedy that." Letting out a harsh laugh, (Y/N) shook her head.

"Trust me Fire Lord Zuko, you won't even remember me after a couple of weeks." Her insecurities rearing their evil head, attempting to shut down the fluttering in her chest.

"No, I'll remember you," he said, stepping toward her. Her eyes met his and he could see the fear within them. "I'd rather not risk that though and just see you as often as I can." His voice was low and husky.

"What would you have me do? Decorate something else? We did most of the Palace, everything I didn't touch was already perfectly fine."

"The Palace is perfect now, thanks to you, but I was thinking you might want to come and see me, not my Ballroom or my Throne room," he teased with a smirk, resting his hand on her cheek. "Maybe we could have lunches and dinners together, or take a trip somewhere, I'd like you to meet my friends and get to know them because I think they'd love you," he paused and took a deep breath, "like I'm beginning to." She sucked in a breath at his declaration. "I'd like the opportunity to spend every spare minute I have with you and laugh with you. I love your laugh so much (Y/N) it makes my entire day. I play it through my head all throughout my meetings, trying to remind myself of it until the next time I get to hear it," obviously a giggle escaped her lips at the sentiment causing a goofy smile to appear on the Fire Lord's face.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" She asked, sounding fearful, "I know we talked about it but what will people say when they see us together?" Shaking her head nervously she wasn't sure what to do, everything he said sounded wonderful but she didn't want him to make a mistake.

"I know what I want, I want what makes me happy, and that's you. Do I make you happy?" He asked, his voice determined.

"Yes more than anything." Her words left her lips in a whisper, "I couldn't believe I was falling in love with the Fire Lord until I woke up this morning and felt like someone had taken my heart out and left a hole in it, at the thought we wouldn't be together again."

Zuko grinned before moving his hand to take hers, and resting his other one on her waist. She smiled back at him, aware of what he was trying to do before placing her hand on his shoulder and allowing him to sway her around the grass. Their eyes never left each other's as they danced to the softened music behind them in the ballroom.

"I swore to myself that if I didn't get to dance with you tonight, I wasn't going to dance with anyone else," he replied with a chuckle, rubbing her back with his thumb as he guided her. "You're the only one I want to dance with… other than Aang, but that's a dragon thing," he joked and she laughed again.

He couldn't stop himself, at the sound of her laugh, he dipped his head forward and captured her lips with his, relieved when she reciprocated the action with fervor.

Their swaying stopped but their mouths didn't part as Zuko moved his hands to fully encase her hips and hers slid up to his neck where she pulled him closer, as if it were possible.

When they both separated for air, Zuko let out a smile, before pecking her on the lips once more with affection.

Standing on the platform with a bright grin on his face, Iroh watched as his nephew and (Y/N) returned to their dancing stance and swayed in contentment once more. He was grateful Zuko was finally able to enjoy himself and was happy that it was with someone as wonderful as she was. Behind him, Shuro popped up asking Iroh if he had seen the Fire Lord anywhere, Iroh shook his head and led the man away, ensuring that his nephew got some peace and love.

Master List

Tag List: @royahllty​ @mangoberry43​ @mrskeishasdead​ @taeeemin​ @blushbadger​ @shortmexicangirl​ @fire-lady-livi​ @jujugentle

[westallenfun]

Two's Company (1/3)

Westallen secret santa gift

For: Lauren (@backtothestart02) (I hope you like this fic!)

From: Lina (@cheryls-blossomed)

A/N: A special thank you to my beta, Caroline (@ginandweas). 

Inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma, and the blissfulness and hardship of tumbling into true love. On the eve of publication of the most important article of her professional career thus far, Iris West realizes that she is head over heels in love with her best friend, Barry Allen, but grapples with revealing her true feelings, for fear of completely ruining their friendship. But a weekend trip to Metropolis sets in motion a series of events, with romantic mishaps and conundrums abound, that may in fact force both Barry and Iris to face some long-awaited, romantic truths. 

Rated: T (Warnings: Mild language)

Perhaps the most notable visual extravagance at wedding receptions is the abundance of balloons, flowers, and the chiffon backdrops, draped like curtains, framing the table whereon sat the wedding cake. 

Iris is already trying to determine how she might steal away a few balloons, because really, nobody would miss them, and she had, after all, been the one sitting with the wedding planner for days on end, painstakingly selecting a theme for the reception and agonizing over every detail. Surely, after all her efforts, a few balloons going missing at the end of the party would be forgiven, if not unnoticeable. And she would be surreptitious about it too, seeing as how she would wait until the final guests, likely pleasantly drunk on champagne, rosé, and Prosecco, stumbled their way out of the Central City Gold Hotel. 

            “Nice work, West.” Iris looks up to see her heavily pregnant sister-in-law take a seat next to her, while cradling a rather magnificent sundae in her hands, spoon hanging precariously atop the hazelnut fudge.

            “Thanks, but don’t you call my brother ‘West?’ Could get confusing,” Iris says, raising one eyebrow. 

            “Yeah, but I’m married to Wally. Have been for three years. And so, it doesn’t have the same effect with him anymore. That’s the troublesome thing about marriage.” 

            “Classic Linda Park logic,” Iris murmurs, before once again focusing on the balloons. They are all the same shade of ivory, which made them particularly functional. For gift-giving purposes, that is. Gift-giving, Iris knows, is all about the presentation.

            “No, but seriously, Iris. I’m impressed. Joe and Cecile deserve the best, and this is, honestly, the best.”

            “Thanks, Linda. Dad deserves a perfect wedding day. As does Cecile. To be honest, I didn’t expect it to come together as beautifully as it did, but I’m still praying we see this thing to the end without any hiccups. We’ve got…” Iris taps the screen of her phone to check the time, “About three hours, at least, left.”

            “And it’s probably especially important to you. You know, because you played matchmaker for Joe and Cecile,” Linda says, while spooning a generous amount of ice cream, topped with fudge and sprinkles and coconut flakes, into her mouth. Iris’s brow furrows,

            “I did not ‘match-make’ my dad and Cecile. We’ve been over this Linda…” Linda begins to interrupt, but Iris shakes her head, “I know you seem to think that because I introduced my dad to Cecile that somehow this is my doing, but that’s untrue. To be honest, I didn’t expect them to hit it off so well, let alone date and get married within a year of my introducing them.” Cecile owns an interior design shop, which Iris had visited when she was helping Barry decorate his new apartment— a memory which immediately brings a smile to Iris’s face, for she fondly recalls Barry frantically searching eBay for a bed and a couch, and the way she had persuaded him that that was a terrible idea and instead found her way to Cecile’s trendy furniture boutique, which was also quite affordable. Cecile was so friendly and sweet, and Iris remembered her father struggling to date again, as it had been nearly a decade and a half since her mother had passed away, and so when she had thrown Barry a housewarming party, Iris figured that there was no harm in inviting Cecile, who had become friends with both Barry and Iris after hours spent together at the boutique, and introducing her to her dad. That had been a year ago. Now, they are at Joe West and Cecile Horton’s wedding reception.

            “Well, we can debate semantics, but you definitely match-maked Wally and me. You can’t deny that,” Linda says, matter-of-factly, before eating another scoop of her sundae.

            “I wouldn’t call it match-making. More like I have a sense for people that I know well and then introduce them, thinking that they may potentially like each other.”

            “You set Wally and I up on a blind date six years ago, and now we’re married and have twins on the way. I would say there’s a diabolical matchmaking side to you. Don’t tell me you don’t feel accomplished every time you successfully match-make a couple.”

            “Linda, I’ve only successfully match-maked— to use your word, which I still find objectionable, by the way— two couples. One was my brother and you. And you’re my best friend. The other was my dad and Cecile. That’s hardly a track record of successful matchmaking.”

            “But it could be. Think about it. This could be a lucrative side hustle.”

            “As if I would have time for a match-making side hustle, even if that was something I was interested in doing. I finally got my news site up and running, and The Citizen needs all hands on deck and then some. Besides, a matchmaking business is an exploitative way to make money.”

            “Mmm, maybe,” Linda seems to ponder this, momentarily, before changing topics, abruptly, “Speaking of which, I’m your best friend now? Thought that was a privilege exclusively afforded to Barry,” Iris has heard this before and rolls her eyes, exasperated,

            “My friendship with Barry is different. You know that.”

            “Actually I don’t know that. But I would love to be enlightened about that.” Linda’s response is far too smug for Iris’s liking, but before she can retort, she hears a familiar voice behind her, a voice that unquestionably wraps Iris in a cocoon of warmth, so that she feels instantly home,

            “I heard my name.” And although she cannot see him yet, she knows he’s smiling. 

            “Was wondering where you were, Allen. It’s a rare sight that you and Iris would be separated at any point, when in the same vicinity.” Barry chuckles at Linda’s quip, settling into the chair on Iris’s right and brushing away a few plastic flowers that had come undone from the upholstery. Iris glances up at him, smiling widely, which he’s reciprocating in equal measure. He sets a plate, containing a chocolate fudge brownie topped with mint chocolate chip ice cream, in front of her. Iris’s eyes widen, as she glances from the plate to Barry; her face alight with unadulterated joy. 

            “My hero,” she gasps, squeezing his hand and then truly taking in the scrumptious display of gooey chocolate and ice cream goodness.

            “Always,” he whispers, gazing at her, affectionately, before continuing, “I was wrangling the last brownie from old Mrs. Rogers, who apparently wanted to share it between herself and her cat. Although I don’t know,” Barry pauses for a moment, glancing around the reception hall, “if her cat is even here. Doubtful. Regardless, it took a great deal of speed, stealth, and possibly defying Newton’s first law of physics, because I could have sworn that I willed the brownie in my direction without even touching it, to retrieve this dessert.”

            “Don’t lie, Bear,” Iris says, her eyes sparkling with laughter, as she eagerly grabs her dessert fork, “Mrs. Rogers would never argue with you, if you wanted that brownie. She loves you.” 

            “Yeah, it was just my regular, old charm. And by charm, I mean, because I tutor her grandson, Matt, in chemistry.” (Linda snorts at that.) “Still, I think defying Newton’s first law makes for a better story. But nobody was getting this brownie except for you, Iris. You know, we wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t for you. I mean, just look at this place. It looks fantastic,” he raves, gesturing towards the décor, “The work you put into this is amazing. You’re amazing.”

            “Thank you, Barry.” She’s touched, not just because Barry managed to negotiate the last brownie from poor, old Mrs. Rogers with his rather endearing, tripping-over-his-feet-type charm, but also because he is being, as usual, so disarmingly complimentary of her. Barry never expects her to be amazing; he just thinks she’s amazing always, even when she’s at her lowest or when she is mistaken, and when Iris reflects deeply on that, it overwhelms her. It forces her to dwell on feelings untold; on how, whenever she sees him, she can’t help but smile, almost as if by instinct. 

But she can’t think about it. She won’t think about it.

            “Before you got here, Barry. I was telling Iris how she should really get into a matchmaking side hustle,” Linda says, forcing Iris to focus on the conversation taking place and not on… well, a place where she refuses to go. A place which she cannot explore. 

            “Matchmaking?” Barry leans back, resting his arm on the back of Iris’s chair. “I don’t think that’s even remotely close to anything Iris-like.” Iris is acutely aware of how close his arm is to the bare skin of her upper back, but she ignores this. Or tries to.

            “Exactly. And so I was telling Linda how that’s an awful idea, and how I am pretty sure a matchmaking business, where I have zero actual knowledge about strangers’ interpersonal relationships, could be fraudulent. I can’t possibly claim to be an expert. I mean, no guarantees, right? Seems like a colossal waste of people’s money,” Iris remarks, still trying not to think about Barry’s arm on her chair, right near her back. And how (she thinks she had just imagined it but, no, it was real) he had seemingly shifted his arm, so his fingers are now grazing her skin; his touch is feather-light, equally comforting as it is emboldening. 

            “That could be the genius of it, though. Enough people want to pay money for a matchmaker, even if it’s probably not going to be any more successful than a dating app. Throw in some good, old Cosmopolitan level astrology knowledge for marketing purposes. And there you have it. A potentially incredibly lucrative endeavor. Maybe I should start it myself,” Linda says, while still enjoying her sundae.

            “Why waste money on a matchmaker? Sometimes something incredible is right in front of you, and you just have to tell yourself it’s time to throw caution to the wind. A matchmaker can’t tell you that, only you can know that,” Barry sounds wistful when he says this, and Iris turns to him, abruptly, studying his expression. He’s looking straight ahead, but his gaze is demonstrable of clear desire, and upon hearing such longing in his voice, her stomach drops. Because that’s the face of someone in love. That’s the sound of someone in love. That’s the sound of someone who’s found their someone. But who could her Barry have found? When did he find someone? 

Iris is contemplating this, her stomach churning with her every thought, when the conversation shifts to pregnancy, as Linda comments how she’s always hungry and moody thanks to,

            “…These two whom Wally impregnated me with.” To which Barry laughs, his fingers still softly grazing Iris’s back, while Iris forces herself to smile along and even joke that Linda had talked her ear off about how much she wanted babies and how maybe she shouldn’t have gotten so ahead of herself. But Iris’s mind is still on Barry potentially having found someone. She knows she should be happy, monumentally happy, because Barry is happy, so she cannot fathom why she feels like she’s about to vomit. Suddenly, she has no appetite for her brownie and ice cream, but she eats to evade suspicion, because Barry would surely know something is wrong if she fails to eat her dessert. But from the way he’s carefully watching her, maybe he does know something is wrong already, and Iris wishes, not for the first time, that they did not know each other’s every fidget and expression, signaling a mood shift, so well.

When the wedding reception is over and after Iris has said goodbye to every guest and promised her father and Cecile that she would be at their house the next day for their family dinner, she manages to take three ivory balloons with her to her car, without a single guest noticing. The decorator who had stayed to help her wrap up tells her that she can take any number of balloons that she would like. Or, perhaps more practically, however many would fit in her car. 

*

More accurately, perhaps, Iris thinks she had not been noticed by anyone, when she’d successfully managed to fit all three balloons in her car two nights ago. She’s standing on line at CC Jitters, the local hub for Central City citizens to get their morning coffee and pastry fix, and holding a basket, which contains baked goods, a carefully wrapped red scarf, and a small, navy blue bag. Tied onto the handle of the basket are the three balloons, still inflated. 

            “For the boyfriend?” 

Iris turns to meet the friendly disposition of a blonde woman she’s never met before. Startled for a moment, Iris realizes, that the stranger is referring to her basket, and she smiles, shaking her head,

            “No, for a friend.” Although, given her thoughts lately, friend seems far too simple a word. She feels like she’s perjuring herself by saying friend, but best friend who I’ve known since childhood and with whom I think I might have feelings for, but who is possibly in love with someone else seems far too complicated, especially when Iris is not ready to admit this to herself, let alone to a stranger whom she meets for the first time on the queue for coffee. 

            “Well, they’re lucky. You clearly put so much work into that. No friend has ever given me a gift like that. Actually nobody’s given me a gift that thoughtful before,” the stranger continues, before visibly cringing, “I’m sorry, I’m oversharing. I’m Patty, by the way.” 

            “I’m…”

            “Iris!” There it is again, that feeling of home settling upon her shoulders, like a velvet cloak, shielding her, protecting her. Barry is walking towards her, holding two mugs of coffee, and when he stops before her, he presses his lips to her forehead briefly, a typical form of greeting between the both of them. But if he could hear the way her heart hammers against her chest whenever she feels the soft brush of his lips on her skin, then surely the ruse would be up. He would know how she feels, and so Iris is grateful, not for the first time, that her heartbeat is inaudible to anyone but her. 

            “Hey Bear, that for me?” she asks, nodding at one of the two mugs.

            “Yep. One Americano with an extra shot. Got here earlier and figured we could beat the line,” Barry grins, and he’s looking at her as if she’s the sun, and it’s almost too intense, perhaps because of all of those pesky feelings that she’s been feeling lately, so Iris breaks their gaze, remembering herself as well and turning back towards Patty.

            “Patty, this is my friend, Barry. Barry… Patty. We just met on the line.” Barry nods politely, as Patty says,

            “Nice to meet you.”

            “Likewise,” Barry responds. “New around here?”

            “Is it that obvious? I’m just about to start at CCU as a grad student. And so I’m trying to get used to the city. I’m originally from Midway.”

            “Yeah, understandable,” Iris smiles. “Takes awhile to get used to a new place, but CC Jitters is the best, so you’ll never be wanting for good coffee, that’s for sure.” Patty laughs, then,

            “Well, I’m glad for that. Anyways, I won’t keep you two. Thank you, Iris, for just chatting with me.”

            “Of course.” The three exchange polite goodbyes, and Barry and Iris make a beeline for their favorite booth in the farthest corner from the entrance to the coffee shop; a rather secluded, cozy spot that Iris had first started occupying, when she was a journalism student at Central City University. Barry had been a chemistry major, and they met up every morning for breakfast and would come to study nearly every weekend, armed with cookies, coffee, and blankets. Iris remembers long afternoons spent in this booth, her feet propped up on Barry’s lap, his hands massaging her calves, as they studied in companionable silence. 

            It was in this booth that Iris had written article after article for The Central Brief, CCU’s university-wide newspaper, including her famed paper on the state of land rights of women, globally, that had won her the Scholastic Student of Journalism Prize and had given her the chance to speak in The Hague at an international conference on human rights. As Iris agonized over her field research, including research accumulated from summers of backpacking, Barry, while studying for his Protein Crystallography final, had been effusive in his support for her. He was constantly breaking from his studies to be her sounding board, should she need one, despite her reminding him time and again that he ought to concentrate on his own finals and not on her. He never listened, though, not that it in any way affected his marks. And so sure was he that her work would be honored that he’d planned a party, months in advance, before she had heard back from the National Committee for Excellence in Student Journalism and before she had been invited to The Hague. 

            Indeed, it was Barry who had remarked then that Iris ought to consider starting her own news media site after university, stating that she already had the credentials to draw in a large audience and investors. 

            “How are you feeling? About the exposé, I mean. Today’s the big day and all,” Barry says, as they settle into the booth, referring to what Iris considers to potentially be the most groundbreaking piece of journalism of her career thus far, namely an article exposing the rot of the biotechnology company, McCulloch Technologies. Its CEO, Joseph Carver, has been using the corporation as a front for a highly dangerous and illegal weapons trafficking scheme. The exposé, which is due to be published later today, will be a highly contentious article, no doubt, but Iris had long since decided that she will not rest until she sees justice through and the thousands of innocent people, caught in the crosshairs of Carver’s inhumane crimes, are safe.

            “Okay. I’m trying not to think about it, honestly,” Iris replies, and Barry takes her hand for a moment,

            “Hey, I get it. It’s hard not to be anxious, especially given the magnitude of the article and the far-reaching consequences it’s going to have. But I am so proud of you. And you should be proud of yourself as well,” he says, running his thumb over her knuckles slowly, before releasing her hand. Iris smiles softly, deeply touched by Barry’s faith in her,

            “Thanks, Bear.”

“Of course,” he says, before gesturing towards the gift basket, “So, are you going to tell me who the basket is for?” Iris adopts a playful expression, then.

            “Hmmm, it’s for this friend of mine who just submitted his dissertation for his DSc.”

            “How did you know I submitted today? I told you my deadline was next week, which it is,” Barry states, apparently incredulous that Iris could have known that he had submitted his paper this morning. 

            “I have my ways. And by that I mean you drooling on my couch last week and mumbling, half-asleep, that you are definitely submitting your dissertation on Tuesday. Well, today’s Tuesday, Bear,” Iris teases, chuckling at the memory of Barry entering her apartment last week in need of caffeine, which culminated with him staying the night, when he fell asleep on her sofa. 

            “I really can’t keep anything from you,” Barry sighs in mock frustration. “Although I really wouldn’t want to, anyways.” 

            “Good. And think about it, now you have this nice surprise.” Barry takes the basket from Iris’s hands, admiring her handiwork, before giving her a sly smile,

            “Well, I guess I know why you took those balloons from the reception on Saturday.”

Okay, so apparently she had not gone completely unnoticed. One guest had noticed her attempt to fit three inflated balloons into her car. Unsurprising, she now reflected, given who that guest happened to be.

“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Iris. I may not be able to keep anything from you, but you definitely cannot keep anything from me either.” Are you sure about, Iris thinks momentarily, before banishing the thought immediately. For she will not dwell on those feelings again, not when she stands to lose too much if they start consuming her. When Iris looks up again, Barry is looking through the basket, marveling at the baked cake lollipops and banana bread and brownies (Iris can only bake sweets, and she would never subject Barry to her cooking, although he claims it’s not as bad as she seems to think it is), before he takes the red scarf from the basket. “Iris…” he whispers, her name like a prayer on his lips, and there goes her heartbeat again, pounding against her chest. “You knitted this.” And she knows that he already knows that she did, but it’s the way he’s looking at her now, like there are not any words currently discovered to express to her how much this means to him. She gives him a comforting smile, hoping to diffuse some of the intensity of the emotions that are radiating off of Barry. 

“Open the rest,” she encourages, and he’s now holding the small, navy blue bag, and removing a velvet box from it. Encased in the box is a watch, which she’d been saving up for, because all of his watches are for some reason broken, and she can hear his gasp, nearly inaudible, and then he’s looking at her, solemnly, gravely.

“Iris… I don’t know what to say. I don’t… thank you,” he says, his tone soft and tender.

“Of course, Bear. I’m so proud of you, and I don’t think this simple gift basket really can quantify how proud I am of you.”

“It’s not… it’s amazing. You’re amazing,” he says, and there it is again. How definitive it is to him that she’s amazing. And perhaps she forgives herself a little for her feelings then, for how can she not feel as she does when he says things like this to her every single day. He’s already wrapping the scarf on his neck and remarking how comfortable and warm it is. “I couldn’t get better knitted scarves at the store. I’m pretty sure you’re a superhero. You can literally do anything.” She listens to him wax on about her many, unbelievable talents, which she’s sure only he seems to think she possesses, before shaking her head, affectionately,

“The scarf looks good on you. Red is your color.”

“Always has been,” he jokes, although the emotion is still evident in his voice. “Come here,” he says then, reaching his arm towards her. She leaves her side of the booth to come over to his, and the moment she’s at his side, he wraps his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair, breathing deeply. She has one arm around his back, the other clutching his sweater, and her head is tucked into the crook of his neck, and Iris is sure that now he must be able to feel how rapidly her heart is beating. She’s cloaked in warmth and in comfort, and all she can think of is home. And all she can feel is love. The kind of tumbling, head over heels into a field of daisies type of love that Iris’s college friend, Cynthia Reynolds (now a hotshot litigator who works in BigLaw and who also is the Citizen’s unofficial legal counsel), claims is simply mushy, fairy-tale nonsense that couldn’t possibly exist outside of movies. Iris had laughed then, telling Cynthia that maybe she shouldn’t be so cynical. Cynthia had been unmoved, steadfast instead in her sentiment that people can fall in love, but that kind of ‘I want to go gallivanting in a forest somewhere and run towards you in a field, as if this is some damn terrible romantic drama’ love does not and cannot actually exist in real life. 

Well, Iris is feeling that mushy, fairy-tale type of love now (a fact which shocks her, despite the fact that she’s very aware of her growing pesky feelings), while wrapped up in Barry’s arms, so clearly, Cynthia had gotten it wrong. Oh fuck.

*

There are approximately fifteen different photos, capturing different angles of the McCulloch Technologies building, sitting on Iris’s desk when she walks into The Citizen that morning, after saying goodbye to Barry at Jitters, and all Iris can think about is the fact that she’s in love with her best friend. And as if her life could not be more complicated in that very moment, Barry is potentially in love with someone else.  

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

She cannot think about her feelings nor Barry being in love with some mystery human being right now, though, for she’s on the verge of publishing the explosive piece on Joseph Carver, who has been using his internationally successful technology company to peddle a highly intricate and complex hub-and-spoke conspiracy involving arms trafficking. He had managed to slither under the radar of inquiring agencies by acquiring different sorts of obscure technology, including ballistic software and parts that are often used to construct robots for laser guidance, under the guise of developing cutting-edge bio-technology. When Iris’s source had informed her that Carver’s labs were combining methane and ammonia, she knew that there was an underbelly of weapons-related criminality within the globally recognizable technology company, and armed with her pen, pepper spray, and sheer gumption, she and her photojournalist, Kamilla Hwang, had obtained press passes to Carver’s unveiling of robotic limbs. While there, Iris had asked janitors, low-level software engineers, and other personnel about why Carver’s labs were having methane and ammonia react with oxygen and how this in any way ameliorates existing biomedical technology. Iris and Kamilla eventually obtained access to a private press tour of Carver’s labs, where they noticed how jittery the staff had been, and after Iris had slipped her card to some of the employees, she had found herself, three days later, with nearly fifteen whistleblowers willing to come forward about nefarious activities in the labs.

As it turned out, Carver’s labs had been trying to create and had indeed succeeded in creating a gun that releases hydrocyanic acid, which they are currently selling on the black market. This is the latest of extraordinarily dangerous weapons that Carver sells both domestically and internationally. Indeed, several politicians are in cahoots with Carver; Carver having made them rich men, in exchange for avoiding Congressional inquiries into McCulloch Tech. 

Now, Iris stands poised to publish the most explosive exposé of her career thus far, and the thought is both exhilarating and terrifying. 

She studies Kamilla’s photos of the McCulloch Tech building, now having to decide which one would accompany the headline that is due to go up right before noon. One photo stood apart among the rest: a shot of McCulloch Tech at night, illuminated by the lights of the city, but with only one floor of the building, the top floor, indicating any activity: the lights of the top floor were on, and the rest of the building was largely camouflaged by the night sky. That top floor contained the only working laboratory at headquarters and is where hydrocyanic acid is processed. This is the photo, Iris thinks, just as she hears a commotion at the door and sees her newest hire, Allegra Garcia, forcefully wrangle open the door, rather dramatically, before slamming it shut.

“Hey, boss,” Allegra says. “We have got to get that door fixed. I’m telling you; it’s trying to kill me every time I arrive.” Iris chuckles fondly at Allegra’s dramatics,

“You’re the only one who seems to be constantly battling the door, Allegra. There are four other people who work here who seem to have no trouble getting in and out of the office.”

“Well, I don’t know, but this door has had it out for me since I began working here. And so… oh! Are those the photos? How much time have we got until noon…?” Allegra pauses momentarily, as she taps her phone, which she was holding in one hand, “Forty minutes. Fantastic.” Iris smiles, watching Allegra race up to her desk, excitedly. Two of the reasons that she had hired Allegra was for her enthusiasm about reporting and for her passion for ethical journalistic integrity, both of which she demonstrated every day on the job.  

“This is the one I want to use to accompany the article,” Iris explains, while pushing the photograph towards Allegra, whose eyes widen when she sees the photo. 

“Yeah, this is incredible. I know Kamilla must have camped out awhile to get this shot,” she exclaims, before looking up at Iris, “We’re really gonna do this, boss. We’re gonna expose Carver and who knows? You might win a Pulitzer from this.” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have to publish the exposé first, and our legal team has been sending me messages since this morning about how she is obligated to warn us about frivolous defamation suits that Carver might file in the immediate aftermath. But the truth is more important. Let Carver sue us; if he does, he’s going to lose anyways.” Although, to be completely accurate, the Citizen’s unofficial legal team, comprising of one Cynthia Reynolds, whose texts to Iris consisted of, “Carver is definitely going to sue you for defamation, so I’ve got to warn you of that, but screw that guy. Publish and destroy him once and for all,” were certainly more emboldening than averting. Iris is also quite certain that that is technically not sound legal advice, in the least.

The door opens again, and in walks Kamilla, joined by the two other reporters at The Central City Citizen, Kara Danvers and James Olsen. They’re all chatting animatedly about the exposé and the explosive ripple effects its publication might have. 

“He’s an absolute monster,” Kara tells James, no doubt referring to Carver. “I mean, hydrocyanic acid? The sheer inhumaneness of his crimes just to fill his coffers…” 

“Evil folks will do absolutely anything to satisfy their greed, including murdering people,” James observes, and Iris knows this is perhaps a fundamental truth of which every investigative journalist must be aware. Kamilla walks up to Iris’s desk and grins when she sees Iris scanning the chosen photo onto her computer,

“That’s the one, isn’t it? When I captured it, I knew I had gotten it. It took me, I think, nearly five hours of camping out, and it was 2:45 AM yesterday when I finally had managed to take that photo.” 

“It’s incredible, Kamilla,” Iris praises. “All your photos are great, but this one is fantastic. It captures exactly what we need to accompany the article.” When Iris had taken this on by herself, she had been wary about putting any of her reporters in danger, but Kamilla had insisted that she accompany Iris in order to take photographs. In hindsight, Iris is incredibly grateful to have had Kamilla by her side through it all, for her calm, steady demeanor was vital amidst the insanity of taking on Joseph Carver. Kara and James, who have caught up to the others, both make approving noises, congratulating Kamilla on her photography, as Iris continues to work to format the article. 

When she is satisfied with the formatting, she taps her phone, seeing that there is roughly twenty minutes remaining until the deadline, and while her reporters are chattering excitedly, the door opens once more, and Iris is greeted by the sight of Wally carrying two champagne bottles in one hand and precariously balancing a few glasses in his other hand. On his heels is Barry, who is carrying a large white box with the words ‘Zulma’s Pastries’ emblazoned on the top, and Iris is flooded with that fairy-tale, gallivanting in a field of daisies feeling again, to which she now finds she is already getting accustomed, which is a somewhat terrifying thought. 

While Iris has some idea as to why both of them are in her office, she is also aware that Dr. Wally West is supposed to be at work at Central City Hospital, and Barry is supposed to be meeting the Dean of Graduate Studies at CCU about a potential professorship. 

“What are you two doing here?” Iris asks, smiling nonetheless, for she is touched that they likely took time out of their busy days to celebrate the publication of the exposé. She had not mentioned the details of the publication to them, in an effort to protect her sources, but Linda had let it slip to Wally that Iris is publishing the article on Tuesday at the wedding on Saturday, and Barry… well, Barry knows everything about Iris, just the way she knows everything about him, so his appearance in her office twenty minutes before she is meant to publish the most important exposé of her professional career is even less surprising than Wally’s.

“I can’t believe you thought we weren’t going to come and crash this… pathetic party, quite frankly,” Wally says, frowning as he takes in the Citizen office, which while buzzing with the excitement of determined reporters, is not exactly set up for any sort of impending celebration. “You have nothing here to celebrate, Iris. No food, no drinks, nothing.” 

“We haven’t even published, and we have no idea of the repercussions of a piece like this, Wally. I think our sheer grit as reporters is celebratory enough.” 

“We knew you were going to say that,” Barry chuckles, placing the box on a desk adjacent to Iris’s, and then helping Wally with the champagne glasses. “But Linda and I wanted this to be a surprise. We managed to get Wally to help, which is good…”

“Linda’s not feeling well,” Wally cuts in. “She was having awful morning sickness, and I told her I didn’t want to go and that Barry could do the heavy-lifting, but she threatened me and sent me away with two of our best champagne bottles.” Iris begins to protest, but Wally continues on, “And honestly, Iris, before you say anything, I’d rather get an earful from you about leaving Linda at home for this— and by the way, she’s feeling much better, thanks to the fact that I’ve finally perfected the art of making a ginger and mint smoothie— than defy her orders.” 

“Glad to see your theatrics are still in top form,” Iris deadpans, before turning to Barry, pointedly, “Thank you, Barry. You and Linda really didn’t have to do all of this. I haven’t even published it yet.” 

“Excuse me, I helped!” Wally interjects, and Barry is laughing now as Iris reaches up to give him a quick hug, which he returns immediately. As they break apart, Barry’s hand lingers on her arm.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “I wanted this to be a surprise and that’s why I didn’t mention earlier coming by later on. And I knew you could have used a distraction this morning from thinking about the exposé.”

“I did need a distraction,” Iris smiles, still keenly aware of his fingers slowly brushing against her arm, gently, tenderly. 

“I imagine you did. But to reiterate what I said earlier this morning, I’m so proud of you. So, so proud of you.” He cups her face with one hand, gently caressing his thumb against her cheek, and he’s gazing at her with so much emotion in his eyes, and she knows that the same intensity that had radiated off of him when she’d gifted him the basket earlier this day is emanating from him now, and she cannot help but wonder if he feels what she feels, because in these moments, she’s sure he must be. 

Wally clears his throat loudly, while pouring out the champagne, and both Barry and Iris break away from each other quickly. When Iris looks up at Wally, he’s giving her that same look Linda had given her at the wedding reception on Saturday, when she had clarified that her friendship with Barry was different. Unwilling to entertain the idea that Wally and Linda have discussed her feelings for Barry, she turns to her reporters, who were already opening Barry’s box of sweets.

“Brownies!” Kara yelps, eyeing the chocolate chip, fudge brownies and quickly grabbing paper plates from the Citizen’s supply cupboard. 

“Thank you, Barry! We really needed this,” James agrees, while Kamilla and Allegra join their colleagues in helping themselves to the scrumptious sweets and expressing their gratitude. 

“We’re not going to get any work done today, but it’s fine. Thanks, Bear,” Iris laughs, as Barry hands her a glass of champagne. They clink their glasses together, before sipping their respective drinks.

“The Citizen can use a break. Especially you,” Barry says after a few moments, giving Iris a pointed look. “You’ve had countless sleepless nights over the research for this, and now it’s ready for the public to read. You deserve a whole week long break, at least.”

“The news doesn’t stop for me to catch up on sleep, unfortunately. I have three upcoming potential stories, including the ways in which exam software companies have violated the privacy of examinees.”

“Sounds like you’re about to become the hero of every university student everywhere. I can’t believe the vagueness of some of those disclaimers that exam software companies put out, as if students have any choice but to use them, when they have examinations online.”

“Yeah, exactly. And if nobody holds their feet to the fire, they think that they can get away with anything. That’s why I’ve got to do it.”

“Iris West saves the world yet again. That should be a headline. Maybe I should pitch it to Central City Picture News. Think Scott Evans would run a headline on his biggest rival?”

“Scott would definitely do it, if it brings CCPN good business. Besides, our rivalry is more friendly than anything else. That said, ‘Iris West Saves the World Yet Again’ sounds more like I’m saving the world with superpowers, not the power of a pen and a public audience. I think you might be overselling me just a little bit.”

“Absolutely not,” Barry says, affronted. “Iris West is my hero, and she always has been, so I think you’re underestimating her. She’s a total superhero.” 

“Doubtful.”

“Don’t try to tell me that you’re not a superhero, Iris. You’re definitely not going to win this argument.”

“Fine, I’ll level with you. Because you know what they say, right? Every superhero has her own hero? Well, if I am a superhero, then I have a confession to make: my hero happens to be this guy I know… superheroes need strength to be invincible, right? So yeah, this guy is my constant strength. Maybe you know him? Name’s Barry Allen?” Barry blushes furiously at that, ducking his head bashfully, and Iris thinks, Success! She knows she’s rendered him flustered, and he’s so adorably handsome, as he fidgets with his hands, as if searching for something to hold. But even despite his flustered state, he remembers the ongoing debate, and he manages a,

“Alright, alright. You win, Iris.” Iris smiles at him, radiantly and triumphantly, just as Wally makes his way over to them, holding a champagne glass of his own, and he’s got a rather sheepish look on his face, which immediately makes Iris suspicious.

“I know that face, Wall. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing. Not every expression of mine means something,” Wally says, immediately defensive. “Although, I do have to ask you a small favor. But really, it’s not a favor, because it’s actually going to be great for you. So it’s technically a favor, but a favor that you’ll enjoy.” 

“Of course you think so. What is it?” Iris asks, tiredly, knowing immediately that she probably was not going to enjoy this favor as much as Wally seems to think. 

“Okay, so you know Cecile’s godson, Eddie Thawne? He couldn’t come to the wedding, because he was away on an emergency business trip?”

“Yeah, I know Eddie,” Iris responds, confused as to what he had to do with whatever Wally was asking of her. Eddie Thawne was the son of Cecile’s best friend, a wealthy hotelier, and he’d been friendly enough in the few interactions that Iris had had with him, but she could not claim to know him all that well.

“Right, so he’s hosting this gala in Metropolis for dad and Cecile this Saturday. It’s very last minute, found out last night, actually… and well, I’d told dad I was going to go, because you know, one of us should go, right? Technically, both of us should, but dad didn’t want to trouble you, because you’ve been so busy with work, and it’s not a big deal. In fact, I think dad didn’t want you to know, because he thought you might get the wrong idea and think that this gala was going to upstage all the work you put in for the actual wedding and reception, which I kept insisting to him you wouldn’t think at all. And I don’t want to leave Linda, even for the weekend. She keeps telling me she’ll be fine, and I know she’s not due for another two months, but I’m not comfortable going.”

“So, you want me to go,” Iris says, knowing exactly what her brother was asking of her. On the one hand, traveling to Metropolis for the weekend for a gala made Iris nervous, because she did not want to leave Central City for at least a week after the McCulloch Tech article was published, but on the other hand, Wally could not be expected to attend, and it would be wrong if both of them missed a gala that was being held for their dad and Cecile. 

Wally is apparently under the impression that Iris might need some more coaxing, so he puts his champagne glass down and reaches into his coat pocket, brandishing four plane tickets.

“Here, the flight tickets are on me. Eddie is putting people up in rooms at his family’s hotel, and he apparently booked four rooms between the two of us, so we could each bring some guests. With Linda and I not going, you’ll have at least three rooms to fill.”

“It’s fine, Wally. I’ll go. You’re right; we should go for dad and Cecile, and you honestly cannot and should not go. I just have to find people who can take a trip with me, last minute…” Iris knows whom she would want to invite, and so she turns to Barry, immediately. “Look, Bear, I know it’s short notice, but…”

“Yeah, I’ll come,” Barry agrees quickly, before she can even finish posing the question, and Iris notices that he has a slightly agitated expression, which worries her. His hand clenches the edge of her desk, rather forcefully, and so she places her own hand over his, reassuringly, and this seems to relax him, at least momentarily, as she can feel some of the tension in his muscles evaporate slowly. He smiles, then, perhaps trying to mask his sudden agitation, “My weekend’s free, and we were just talking about how you could use a break, Iris. This’ll be good, as it’s a vacation of sorts.” 

“Thanks, Barry. I’ll also ask Cynthia; she could always use a break, and Bear, why don’t you invite someone?”

“I’ll ask Cisco.” Iris glances up at Barry, and they both share a knowing look: they had been trying to get Cynthia and Barry’s old college roommate and engineering genius extraordinaire, Cisco Ramon, to meet for ages (So much for swearing off match-making, Iris thinks then), but they had not had the chance to introduce the two of them yet. This trip might just provide the long-awaited golden opportunity.

“Perfect,” Wally says, considerably relieved, but before Iris can respond, she finds herself surrounded by her fellow reporters who are telling her that it’s just before noon. She nods, waiting until everyone is gathered around her, and Barry’s arm comes around her shoulders, providing her with both comfort and strength. And while a sudden, rather dignified silence, perhaps to mark the solemnity of this publication, descends upon the Citizen, Iris can feel the soundless excitement of Kamilla and of Allegra and of Kara and of James, as she publishes the exposé on the Citizen’s website. 

*

Thus, late that Friday afternoon, Iris finds herself boarding a plane with Barry, Cynthia, and Cisco, in tow, and she’s only half paying attention to Cisco’s exuberance in describing his latest inventive feat at S.T.A.R. Labs, the product technology company he works for, because Barry is acting… odd. He has been acting odd since he had accepted her invitation to come along to Metropolis, and she cannot fathom what it is about this trip that has him so on edge. He is fidgeting so much, and every time he notices that she notices, he gives her a forced smile, as if to divert her suspicions away from his agitation, but that only serves to increase her worries. Whatever is bothering him so much is something that he apparently is unwilling to share with her. 

“…It’s insane. I mean, if we get this right, we will be revolutionizing tablet computers and robotic interpreters,” Cisco is saying, and Iris is sure that if Cisco is put to the task, he and his team certainly would get it done, for she had witnessed his genius first hand before, when, during a birthday party for his best friend, Caitlin Snow, a few years back, the power had blown and there had been no backup generator, and Cisco had managed to create a temporary power source seemingly out of thin air. Iris is sure that there were numerous devices at Cisco’s disposal, and he’d had the aid of Caitlin’s then boyfriend now husband, Ronnie, also an engineer, but it was the sheer ingenuity of Cisco’s engineering ability and the sheer determination to get this done and to ensure Caitlin had the party that she deserved that was so impressive. 

“If anyone can get it done, though, it’s Cisco Ramon,” Iris voices her thoughts, and Cisco smiles proudly,

“Thanks, Iris. It’s definitely going to be a lot of work, but I definitely think we’re headed in the right direction. Hopefully.”

“Hmmm, it all sounds impressive, but what are the patenting ramifications that come with such a unique project. Surely, you’re worried about somebody trying to build upon your product once it’s out in the market. How stringent is your patent going to be?” Cynthia, ever the cynic, adds, eyeing Cisco.

“I don’t want to hog all the spotlight, honestly. We want other people and companies to be able to build on our findings and develop even better tech. There’ll be a patent, but it’s not going to be exclusive.” 

“You’re way too nice.”

“I’m just here to improve tech. Being nice isn’t a crime, I hope,” Cisco laughs, and Cynthia shakes her head fondly, clearly believing Cisco to be naive, but apparently endeared to his naiveté nonetheless. Cisco and Cynthia, still playfully arguing about the stringency of a future patent, take their seats in the middle row, and Iris and Barry, the latter who is still distracted, sit by the window across the aisle. 

“Bear, what’s going on?” Iris sighs, finally, turning to him, once they’ve taken their seats. Barry looks up at her, startled and guilty, and immediately starts deflecting,

“Nothing. I’m fine, Iris, really. I’m sorry, I’ve been a bit out of it. Just… I don’t know, I’m fine.” Iris can tell that he’s not going to be forthcoming with her, no matter how persistent she is, but she is not ready to drop the issue entirely.

“I’m not going to press you, but you know that if something is bothering you, I’m always here, if you want to talk. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know that. Of course I do,” Barry says, his voice tender. “And I’m the luckiest guy in the world for it. I’m sorry that I’ve been out of it the last couple of days, I just… I don’t want you to worry about me. That’s the last thing I want.” Iris can tell he’s struggling between telling her and being evasive, so she takes his hand in her own, their fingers interlocking almost instinctively. She squeezes his hand, as his thumb brushes against her knuckles. 

“I’m going to worry, because it’s you, and so I can’t not worry, but I don’t want you to tell me anything when you’re not ready to.” Barry’s free hand comes to cup her chin, as he brings her closer to him, and she basks in the warmth of his hand against her skin. When his lips meet her forehead, she closes her eyes and relishes in his lingering kiss, and she knows… she knows that she’s unequivocally in love with him, and she’s sure that she has been for quite some time, and all she wants to do is lift her face and coax his lips to hers, but she can’t. She knows that she can’t. She can’t ruin their equilibrium, because if she were to admit her feelings and lose Barry’s friendship completely… that is a possibility that she cannot risk. 

“I know how deeply you care. And I love you for it,” he whispers against her forehead. And I love you for it. 

He’s told her he loves her so many times over the two decades that they’ve known one another, and she knows that he means it platonically, as he always has, but that doesn’t stop her from imagining that he loves her in the same way that she loves him. 

And when Barry falls asleep, after the plane takes off, and drops his head, so it rests comfortably on her shoulder, his face turned into the crook of her neck, so that she can feel his steady breaths fanning against her skin, Iris leans her head against his, and she thinks that this is what true tranquility feels like. 

And I love you for it.

[cafedanslanuit]

✦ • ° *.  — Ｓａｅｒａｎ＇ｓ　Ａｆｔｅｒ　Ｅｎｄｉｎｇ —  . * ° • ✦

chapter guide  |  chat with me  |  maybe a coffee?

summary: Saeran has finally found MC and is ectasic to finally be able to enjoy the good ending his tumultous life has reached. But with Saeyoung still missing and Mint Eye around, his happiness may have to wait a little more. Was love really capable to win against his inner demons or will he have to learn to fight for himself?

chapter warnings: [check chapter guide for story warnings] mentions and/or descriptions of night terrors

c h a p t e r   f o u r   —   it’s not like me to be so mean you’re all i wanted

“Are you sure about this?” MC asked as she stepped into Jumin’s office. He closed the door behind her and sat on one of the sofas, inviting her to do the same.

“I already told you it’s more than okay. We have an interior designer but I… I am discontent with how this office looks. I want to change it and you need a job, what’s there more to ask?”

“I guess you’re right,” she replied with a smile, taking out a notebook from her purse. “I guess I was just worried you would have a problem with your father about hiring a different interior designer.”

“Not at all, I made all the normal paperwork C&R asks for a new employee, like a background check and some other revisions. You will also get the benefits freelancers get from our company, in case you were wondering.”

MC shot her eyes up at Jumin. He looked back at her, his eyebrow slightly raised. The silence between both of them became thick, the notebook on MC’s hands trembling slightly

“You’re worried about what I saw on the background check,” Jumin rationalizes, crossing one of his legs over the other one. MC nodded, her eyes darting from her notebook to the man sitting in front of her. Never before had she felt so vulnerable with someone from the RFA.

All this time, she believes only Saeyoung knew about it, since he was a hacker. She had done the best to hide her steps, never commenting on anything she shouldn’t have, knowing that even though Saeran was a better hacker than Saeyoung, he trusted her enough to not dig around her past and she planned to keep it that way.

She would tell him eventually, she had told herself. When she was ready.

“You shouldn’t worry about that. It’s not like you did something wrong,” the man in front of her said. “By your reaction I assume no one knows? Well, Saeyoung probably does. Does Saeran…?” MC shook her head. “I see. Well, he won’t hear it from me,” he assured her. “You can stop worrying about that.”

MC stayed in silence for another moment and then opened her small notebook with a long sigh.

“I’m guessing you’re going to want cats somewhere?” she asked with a small smile, to which Jumin imitated her.

“I actually do. I’ve been thinking about getting some cat pottery. I’ve found a couple of those at a designer website that seem to be a good fit.”

“Can you send me the link, please?” she asked, taking a note. “I will try to see if they still have them.”

The rest of the conversation fluctuated between casual conversation and ideas about Jumin’s new office. Even though she tried her best, she couldn’t shake the feeling of someone else knowing what had happened a few years ago. She wasn’t ready to tell everyone (and a part of her was sure she would never be) and now she felt as if Jumin was finally looking at the real her. The way he talked to her was the same, but she couldn’t shake the feeling something was bound to happen at any second, that if too many people knew about it, somehow history would repeat itself.

Jumin insisted she returned home with Driver Kim and, as soon as she jumped out of the car, she went straight to the kitchen. Distract yourself , had been the clear indication she had been told whenever her thoughts were too much. She put her earphones on with music on high volume as she followed the recipe.

Distract yourself , she repeated the words someone else told her before. No. She didn’t get to break down at something that didn't happen. Jumin didn’t question her about it. Hell, Saeyoung had never questioned her about it. Why would she allow herself to feel like this?

No, she deserved to feel like this. She had the right to feel scared, she had the right to feel whatever she wanted to feel. It had happened a while back, yes, but it was not going to happen again. She felt her chest tighten. It was not happening again. Just because people knew didn’t make it any different. She wasn’t in the wrong, she hadn’t done nothing to feel shame about what happened. It was okay, she was going to be okay, she was--

She felt a hand over her shoulder and screamed.

“It’s me, it’s me!” Saeyoung said, raising his hands in surrender as you took your earphones off. “I’m sorry, I asked you something and you didn’t listen. I’m sorry.”

MC shook her head. “It's okay. You just startled me, that’s all. Not used to you being without  the leg cast.”

“How did it go with Jumin?” Saeyoung asked carefully.

“Oh, it was okay. He has some ideas so maybe I’ll work on that later. I have to bring him a proposal by the end of the week,” she explained. Saeyoung nodded and waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. He understood.

“I was just going to ask what you were planning on cooking today,” Saeyoung said, his tone playful, trying to lift her mood. “Honestly, I’ve been so blessed since you started taking care of the food around here. God listened to his humble server and said: You! You deserve good food!” he joked, pointing at a corner in the kitchen. MClaughed. “And I was there, choking on a Honey Buddah probably, agog, aghast,” he said, running to the same corner and playing himself. “Thankful. Blessed. Touched by God’s light and MC’s cooking.”

More laughter erupted from MC as Saeyoung kept joking around. The door opened and they both saw Saeran entering the apartment, hands on his pockets and a dull expression on his face.

“Saeran! I made dinner,” Saeyoung beamed.

“I made dinner,” she corrected him, elbowing him on the ribs playfully. MC looked over at Saeran and smiled at him. “It’s going to be ready in twenty minutes or so.”

“I don’t want it,” Saeran muttered, leaving his keys on the small coffee table. Her smile faded and she did the best to bring it back up.

“Should I save you some for later?”

“No,” he said, avoiding her gaze and heading over to his room. The smile on her face finally vanished and she felt once more a hand on your shoulder. Saeyoung looked at MC apologetically and she shrugged, trying to rest importance to what just had happened.

“I’m guessing you do want some?” she asked and he immediately nodded with a smile.

“Please, I’m starving,” he sighed, putting a hand on his neck theatrically. You giggled and went back to your cooking, listening to Saeyoung rant about something he had seen on a movie the past week.

You had never been so thankful to have him.

…

Apparently, decorating an office with little cat motives while also maintaining a professional look was harder than MC had expected. She had been up all night in her room looking for new furniture and items she could add, drawing and drawing Jumin’s room in her pad and checking the photos and measurements she had taken earlier over and over again.

It felt good to finally be back to work again. After months of thinking only about religious cults and Saeran’s recovery, she knew she needed to get back on track. She had been without a job for about two months when Saeran had first contacted her to try out “an app”, and thinking she hadn’t many job opportunities before and rent wasn’t going to wait for her, she had taken it.

And now there she was, four months later trying to get back on the saddle.

MC clicked the next page on the website and a pop up of a blonde woman offering her help navigating the website made chills run down her spine. How long would it be until she could stop thinking about Rika? She took a sip of her coffee and let out a long sigh.

She still couldn’t believe Rika was found unimpeachable. Her attorney had brought a psychiatrist to the court who claimed to have assessed her as she waited for the trial. Apparently, Rika had been through her fair share of trauma as a child. Thanks to Yoosung, MC already knew Rika had been adopted by cruel parents and judging by what she’d seen at Mint Eye, she was sure Rika wasn’t in her best mental state. The updates MC read online didn’t provide any video of the trial itself as some subjects were private, but the source did confirm Rika was practically delusional. She had talked about a childhood friend named Mika, who she claimed has given her the idea for Mint Eye. But when Rika’s attorney tried looking for her, he discovered said Mika had died at the brief age of ten years, just a couple of years after being adopted.

Apart from the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder the psychiatrist had diagnosed Rika with, it seemed Rika couldn’t differentiate real life from her imagination anymore. The psychiatrist claimed she also had a complex personality disorder that could take time to correctly diagnose. The information presented on trial was enough for the judge to find Rika unimpeachable and sent her to a mental facility to spend the rest of her days.

The night she read those updates from the trial, as she rocked Saeran softly to help him sleep again after a nightmare, MC let herself cry again, torn between the feelings of wanting her to suffer and trying to understand she hadn’t been in her right mind from a very young age. As she looked through the window, she thought about V. She remembered Saeran mentioning V had been a victim of Rika as well and her heart broke by how much suffering he had been into while also being kind to her during the days MC spent at Mint Eye.

MC closed her eyes and wished V were healing as she was thinking about him.

A loud crash startled her, making her look at the door. Another crash and screams followed and she quickly stood up, recognizing Saeran’s voice immediately. She opened Saeran’s room and found him tossling on his bed, eyes closed and face damp with sweat.

“Saeran, wake up,” she whispered, standing on the edge of the bed. “Saeran, baby, it’s a nightmare,” she said in the softest voice possible, grazing his arm with her fingertips.

The door opened again and Saeyoung entered, his honey eyes widening at his brother screaming on the bed. He quickly jumped on the bed, ignoring MC’s protests and took Saeran by the shoulders, sitting him up.

“Saeran, wake up!” he said, shaking his shoulders. Saeran’s teal eyes opened and Saeyoung smiled again. “Hey, it was a--”

And that was when the first strike hit.

Saeran had punched Saeyoung in the face, who had fallen on the bed backwards. Saeran hit him once more as his brother tried to cover himself. MC gasped loudly and quickly latched herself on Saeran’s back, trying to restrain his arms the best she could.

“Saeran, it was a nightmare!” she yelled. She could hear Saeyoung’s grunts underneath his brother and she wished she had more strength than Saeran. “You’re safe! You’re not in Min Eye, you’re safe!” she assured him, using all the force she had to restrain his arms, stopping him from hitting Saeyoung any further. “Saeran, you’re safe!”

It took Saeran a moment to stop his movements. His body immediately tensed up and MC figured out he had noticed Saeyoung’s body underneath him. When she demeaned safe, she let go of his arms, which fell limp against his sides.

“Are you okay?” she whispered and looked at Saeran nodding slowly.

“What happened?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

Saeyoung got up from bed and MC noticed the faint stain of blood on his cheek. He put his hand over Saeran’s shoulder and shrugged nonchalantly.

“You had a nightmare, but it’s okay now!” he said with a grin. Saeran looked up with a grimace.

“I hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I hardly doubt she did,” Saeran muttered, his head leaning to MC’s side. Saeyoung dismissed him, moving his hand.

“Don’t worry about it. Gonna get cleaned up, try to get some rest, bro,” he said, leaving Saeran’s room.

Without a word, Saeran got back into his bed and even let MC put the sheets over him. Her face was full of concern and he realized for the first time, she was quiet after one of his nightmares. She would usually talk to him, trying to get his thoughts to stop swimming around like they were in that moment.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, making her eyes look at him. She quickly nodded.

“I held you back, so you didn’t hurt me,” she replied, putting a strand of his hair behind his ear. “But don’t worry about that now. Did you take your pill before falling asleep?”

Saeran nodded, watching MC’s lips purse.

“They will start working better soon, I promise,” she whispered. Saeran watched her lean down as she always did to leave a kiss on his forehead but stopped herself. His chest ached. “I’m still working on that Jumin project, so I’ll be awake for a while. Knock my door if anything happens, okay?” she asked him sweetly and he nodded once more.

Battling with her intense desire to stay, MC stood up and left Saeran’s room without looking back. There wasn’t anything in the world she wanted more than to stay by his side until he fell back asleep but she also knew he needed to get better without the need to have her around. He couldn’t depend on her, no matter how much she was craving to go back and snuggle up with him, trying to chase all his nightmares away.

There was also the lingering concern about Saeyoung.

She found him in the bathroom, trying to pour alcohol over the wound on his cheek. She stopped him and made him sit on the toilet gently, trying to assess the damage. Thankfully, his cheekbone didn’t seem to be broken and the wound on his cheek was small, so there wasn’t the need for stitches. MC started cleaning it up in silence with a cotton pad, taking her time.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. She quickly shook her head.

“You didn’t know. But in the future, when he gets those night terrors… you need to wake him up gently. Works best on him or he gets confused and sometimes violent,” she explained. A move of her hand made Saeyoung hiss. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“Duly noted,” Saeyoung tried to smile, but failed. MC some cream on the other cheek, hoping it didn’t bruise too much.

“Just give him some time, please,” she asked him softly.

“Don’t worry for me, MC,” Saeyoung grinned. “I’m okay.”

MC wished she believed him.

previous chapter | next chapter [tba]

[quickspinner]

MLHolidays2k19 22. Snowman

Part 1 (18. Elves) Part 2 (19. Naughty or Nice) Part 3 (eek how did this happen)

One more part planned, but it’ll probably job on New Year’s Eve, for reasons that should become obvious.

Part 5 is up now!

It was a surprise snowy day in Paris. A couple inches lay on the ground and the city was losing its collective mind. Luka, however, wasn’t inclined to cancel his plans today, so he bundled his little niece up, promised her mothers he would make sure she stayed warm, shouldered a backpack full of all the nonsense the girls made him carry when he went out with Angie, and took her to Place des Vogues as he’d planned.

They’d been at the park for about fifteen minutes when Luka heard his name called and turned to find Marinette waving at him, carefully stepping through the snow. Luka smiled and waved back.

She was still cute as hell, wrapped up in a big grey puffy jacket with a hood lined with white fleece, making her blue eyes look bright and huge in her sweet face. She wore a fluffy pink scarf and pink mittens, her cheeks and nose were pink with the wind, and he was absolutely not going to look at her lips to see if they matched. 

He turned away to check on Angie, who was fascinated with the footprints she left in the snow and was paying no attention to him whatsoever. Luka had been texting with Marinette over the last couple of days, but this was the first time he’d seen her in person since their dinner together and he was nervous. Before he’d gotten her note, he’d played that night over and over again in his mind, swinging between anger at himself for being so stupid, frustration with her for shutting him out without talking to him, and depression at the whole situation. He still wasn’t sure why he’d acted the way he had, honestly. He was impulsive occasionally, but in ways that resulted in unique experiences and funny stories to tell later, not jumping women he’d just met. Normally, he would have noticed that she was uncomfortable much sooner. 

All he had come up with in all his thinking was that maybe that night he just hadn’t felt like being careful. Maybe he’d been feeling a little bit reckless on his first real night out after being cooped up taking care of Jules and Rose and Angie. He’d been feeling down and lonely even before they fell sick and maybe deep down he’d felt like he’d earned a little hedonistic selfishness. Maybe it was just bad timing that he’d met Marinette in that mood. 

Don’t fuck it up, Juleka’s voice said in his head, and Luka sighed and tried to summon a genuine smile to greet Marinette.

It was easier than he expected, once he faced her bright eyes and cheerful expression. “Hi,” he said. “Glad you could make it.” He turned to Angie. “Can you say hi to Miss Marinette?” Luka prompted. 

“Hi Miss Ma-ee-nette,” Angie chirped without looking up from the trail of footprints she was meticulously laying out in the snow. 

Luka took a deep breath. “Listen, I know I said this over text already, but I just wanted to tell you in person, I’m really sorry about last time. I overstepped and I made you uncomfortable and I really can’t even express how sorry I am. Thank you for being willing to come out with me again. I had a really great time with you, and I hate that it ended the way it did.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, chinks turning a little pinker. “Well, I—thank you for saying that. Really, it’s forgiven, and I’m sorry too, I know it must have been confusing, after I kissed you back—“

“No,” he interrupted. “I didn’t give you a chance to think, you reacted in the moment and you rolled with it and there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re allowed to change your mind and you don’t owe me any explanations.” 

Marinette nodded slowly. “I’m still sorry for ditching you without saying anything. If I hadn’t just chickened out maybe—well. We both made mistakes, and as far as I’m concerned, we have a clean slate.” She held out her hand. “Okay?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, but he took her hand. “Thank you.” He felt her squeeze lightly and then let go. “I’m glad you came,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets and turning to watch Angie. “You’re a brave soul to venture out in all this.” He nodded to the grey sky. 

“I used to come play here every time it snowed,” Marinette giggled. “I wouldn’t miss it. I’m grateful for the excuse.” 

Luka opened his mouth to reply when Angie suddenly came running back to him.

“Unca Loo-ka,” Angie said, tugging at his pant leg. “Nowman!” she pointed to the older kids who were currently on their knees, building a small snowman. She hugged his knee. “Nowman!”

“Yes, they’re building a snowman,” Luka agreed. “Do you want to build a snowman?” he asked, winking at Marinette when she giggled. “You have no idea how many times she’s made me sing that song,” he whispered.

“Nowman!” Angie bounced. “Wanna build a nowman!”

“Okay,” Luka said, pulling gloves out of his pocket. “Let’s build a snowman.” He grinned at Marinette. “You in?”

Marinette giggled. “Sure.” 

It turned out it was hard to stay tense when you were building a snowman—just a small one, since they only had a few inches of snow to work with. They were almost finished when Marinette excused herself and zipped out of the park. 

He was starting to be afraid she’d ditched them when she reappeared with a satisfied smile on her face. 

“Every snowman needs accessories!” she giggled, holding up a handful of buttons and a baby carrot.

“Where did you get all that?” Luka asked, amused (and relieved). 

“My secret,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him (so cute). She knelt in the snow and held the buttons out to Angie. “What color do you want to make his eyes?”

“There’s boo! There’s boo buttons and there’s a geen button and a red button—“

“Yes, Miss Marinette brought you lots of colors. Which ones are you going to choose?” Luka interrupted gently. 

Angie picked two different shades of blue, and Marinette helped her put them in the snowman’s face, along with the little baby carrot nose. The remaining rainbow of buttons went down his front. Then both girls looked to Luka for approval, beaming, and their combined cuteness left him unable to do much more than offer a thumbs up. He pulled his phone out and whistled sharply to get Angie’s attention. 

“Oh, Jules is gonna love that,” he chuckled, turning it so Marinette could look.

“You should’ve warned me, I would have moved,” Marinette blushed.

“I didn’t want you to move,” he said simply. “Besides, by the time you did Angie would have lost interest and wandered off.” He gestured towards the little toddler, who was back to marching in the fresh snow so she could look at her footprints. “I’ll delete it if it really bothers you, but you both look really cute, and you’re adorable together.” Her eyes widened slightly and her face went red and Luka cringed. “Sorry. Too much?”

“What? No! I mean, it’s fine, I can—I can take a compliment really.” She was turning pinker by the minute. 

Luka bit back laughter and couldn’t help teasing her just a little. “Are you sure?” She gasped in outrage and he added, “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.” She went from pink to red and he couldn’t keep the laugh back anymore. 

The pout she gave him just made him laugh harder. Eventually she couldn’t help giggling too, shoving him playfully. 

“You’re awful,” she told him.

“I’m honest,” he chuckled. “Really.” The last of their laughter died away and they were left staring at each other with dopey grins on their faces. He wanted to touch her, to lift his hand and brush away the snowflakes landing on her cheek, but he didn’t dare.

Luka cleared his throat and turned away. “Angie, can you say thank you to Miss Marinette?”

“Tank you, Miss Ma-ee-nette!” 

“You’re so welcome, sweetie,” Marinette cooed. “Oh, Luka she’s just so cute.” Then she looked at him and blushed. “Um, are you guys getting hungry? I know a good place to get something to eat and the best hot chocolate in Paris!”

“How can I resist that?” Luka answered, hopefully not too quickly. “Lunchtime, Angie.” 

“Lunch!” Angie cried, turning and running towards them. “Wanna have lunch!” 

“Woah,” Luka said, catching her before she ran right past him. “Hang on, tiger, at least hold my hand.” He took Angie’s hand, even though it meant he had to walk stooped over a bit.

Marinette giggled. “Will she let me? I’m shorter.”

That would certainly save him some aches and pains. “Angie, can Miss Marinette hold your hand?”

Angie thought about it for a second and then reached up to take Marinette’s hand. 

Marinette smiled broadly. “Well all right then. Follow me!” 

They made their slow way through the still-falling snow out of the park and across the street to a white building whose scrolling gold window decorations declared it to be a bakery. Marinette opened the door for them and motioned them in. Luka kicked his boots on the doorstep to try and knock some of the snow off, and picked up Angie so she wouldn’t track anything, propping her on his hip. He barely had time to take in the very pink but otherwise elegant bakery interior before Marinette dodged around him, calling, “Hi Maman! I brought some friends!”

“Hello again, Marinette,” the smiling woman at the counter said, looking up. “These are your friends? Welcome to Tom and Sabine’s,” she said politely to Luka and Angie, and then her professional smile widened into something more genuine as she waved at Angie. “I’m Sabine.”  

“Nice to meet you, I’m Luka and this is my niece Angelique,” he replied. “Can you say hi, Angie?”

“Hi Angie,” Angie repeated obediently, and Luka sighed as both women giggled. 

“Angie, can you say hi?” he tried again, and got the desired response this time. He grinned at Marinette. “You’d think eventually I’d remember to say it the right way. So this is where you disappeared to?”

“Surprise,” Marinette giggled. “I grew up here, so I just popped over and let Maman and Papa know we’d be by.”

“Tom’s in the back at the ovens at the moment,” Sabine told him, “But you’re very welcome.”

Luka was trying to figure out how to respond to that when Angie startled him by leaning out of his arms, so that he had to move quick to keep her from falling as she reached a hand toward a brightly colored display case full of treats. “Num nums! Want num nums!” 

“Oh, no,” Luka grunted, levering her back against him. “Not until after lunch, baby.” 

“Num nums! Num nums, Miss Ma-nette!” Angie turned pleadingly towards the other adult present, abandoning him as hopeless instantly. 

“Oh, you heard Uncle Luka,” Marinette wagged her finger. “Num nums after lunch.”

Angie paused to consider. “Lunch. Want lunch, Unca Loo-ka! Lunch!” 

“She’s a smart one,” Marinette giggled, as Luka rolled his eyes. “Come on, I set up something upstairs earlier. Thanks for hosting us, Maman,” she added, pausing to kiss her mother on the cheek.

“We’re always happy to see you, dear,” Sabine smiled. “It was nice to meet you two. Bye bye!” she waved at Angie, who recognized this cue and chirped “Bye bye!” in return. 

“I’d forgotten you told me your parents owned a bakery,” Luka commented as he followed Marinette upstairs. “I think I’ve been here before in fact.”

Marinette giggled. “Best pastries in Paris if you ask me.”

They all shed coats and boots, and soon Luka was sitting at the tall kitchen table with Angie in his lap, shredding savory pastries into bite size pieces for her as he chatted with Marinette.

They were falling into that same easy, natural conversation they’d had before. Before long, Angie fell asleep with a piece of pastry still in her hand, and Luka laid her gently on the couch and before returning to sit at the table again as Marinette moved around the kitchen preparing two mugs of hot chocolate. He tried not to watch the sway of her hips or the back of her neck between her pigtails or the flash of her wrists beneath the long sleeves of her sweater. He took a deep breath and looked at his hands until Marinette slid a mug over into them. 

“Thank you,” he smiled. She smiled back and for a moment they just sat quietly, sipping their hot chocolate. “That is good,” he grinned, and she winked at him. 

It was all incredibly comfortable and domestic. He wondered if this was how Juleka felt every morning and felt a stab of envy. Not that he regretted anything, but he was starting to think maybe…

“Luka?” Marinette leaned forward and looked up into his face. “Are you all right.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I’m...really happy, actually. So, um...tell me about how you met Juleka.” 

Her eyes brightened and her smile widened and her whole face became animated as she told the story, and if there was any part of him that wasn’t already taken with her, that moment was enough to finish him. 

“I’m doing all the talking,” she sighed, resting her cheek on her hand, and Luka had never felt Shakespeare in his heart until just that moment. 

“I don’t mind,” Luka told her, but then he sighed. “I should really get Angie home,” Luka said, getting down from the table. “Jules will start to wonder if we’re not back.” Marinette got up and helped him gather Angie’s things to put in his backpack. “Thanks for coming out with us, and inviting us into your family’s home,” he said as he put his coat on. “I—I really like spending time with you, Marinette. I’d really like to do something like this again. Maybe just you and me, next time.” He grinned. “I mean I love Angie, but—” He stopped himself just before he said something unfortunate about needing more adult entertainment.

“Um,” Marinette looked down, playing with one pigtail. “Actually, my friend Alya, the one I was volunteering with? She’s throwing a party tomorrow for New Year’s Eve, and, um—” she paused, and looked up at his face. “I was wondering if you’d like to go with me?”

“I’d love to,” he blurted, before his brain caught up with him. “Ah, wait, I have a gig.”

“Oh, of course you would,” Marinette laughed, turning pink. “I should have thought of that. Of course people would want a band on New Years Eve, it must be a big night for you...” 

“Hang on, hang on,” Luka said, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the details. “I know we’re not playing until midnight, they have a headliner they’re bringing in and we’re just the opener, so…I could maybe come after, if that’s okay? I mean I totally understand if that’s too late, you could probably get another date—”

“No, no, I wasn’t going to ask anybody else, I just thought—I mean, if you want to come after that would be fine? It’s at the Grand Paris Hotel. Alya’s mom works there so she was able to get Alya a room for the party.”

“Oh, that works,” Luka said in surprise. “I’m playing the big party down in the grand ballroom, so if you just let me know what room, I can come right after I’m done.” He smiled at her. “I’ll be done at maybe 10:30?” 

“Perfect,” Marinette smiled. “I’ll be waiting.” 

“Okay,” he said, with a slow grin. “I’ll be there.” 

“Okay,” she repeated, and then she blushed and rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I had a good time today. Be safe on the way home, okay?”

He was a grown man and should not be tongue-tied by such a little thing. “See you soon, Marinette,” he managed, and maybe if he hadn’t been an idiot once already, he might have asked to kiss her for real, to feel her cheek under his hand and her soft lips under his.

As it was, he just curled his fingers closed at his side and smiled, and picked his sleeping niece up off the couch, tucking her under his coat. Marinette helped him zip it up over them both, and with a quick goodbye to her mother, Luka slipped out, a smile on his face and a strange fizzing in his veins. If it hadn’t been for Angie sleeping in his arms, he might have run all the way home. 

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

[kayyeffsee-blog]

Bangtan fics that I’ve read and liked (will get updated)

uhh, so the thing is that a lot of jikook fics will be in here, as it is my otp. But I have  also put in many others. Thank you!!! (this goes in descending order, so newer ones will come on top, and i still have a lot of older fics, they’ll come at the bottom) (all fic titles in italics are my ult favs and all ships in bold have their plot and are not just implied)

On Patrol  and  On Patrol - Season 2 : jikook, yoonseok, namjin, police au, LOVE this series, check it out!

summary: Officer Jeon has his eyes on Mr. Adorable.Officer Min has a strange neighbor he can't seem to keep out of his life.Captain Kim finds comfort in his son's homeroom teacher. Well, cops need some loving too, right?

A Gilded World : i cannot believe this fic aint down there, yoonjin, must read, chaebol au (i love them), ULT FAV, kdrama au, with vmin who has a tiny storyline too, and side namseok, rated E, 169k words, bros jinkook, READ IT, the fic that got me interested in yoonjin.

summary: Jeon Seokjin has exactly four weeks to stop the impending engagement of his younger brother, doomed to a loveless marriage. The only way to stop it is to make a better match, more advantageous, more lucrative for the Jeon family. It's impossible. It's his only option.Min Yoongi does not want, will never want, will never ever even consider, marriage. It's not in the cards. He's stubborn enough to achieve the total ban on marriage talks. Except maybe his grandmother is a little more stubborn than he is, and maybe she's determined to see him march down the aisle.The chaebol arranged marriage au that exactly one and a half people asked for.

baby, love me hard and hold me tight : jikook, ceo kook, tsundere-yet-not-so-tsundere min, lots of smut, dancer jimin. summary’s too long.

all the light we cannot see : yoonkook, spaceship au, tsundere yoongi, wow i read a lot of those, rated E, 109k words.

summary (part of it):  (when jeongguk finally gets his chance to sail the cosmos, it’s onboard the ship of an aggravating man named min yoongi. he thinks it’ll be extraordinarily dull—but the universe, and the legend of treasure planet, have other plans.)

note: another not so common yet not completely rare pair, i honestly love this fic so much.

nobody's like you  : jikook, college au, pissed jimin,dense kook, a cute fic, rated T, 20k words. 

summary: if you have a crush but you don't know you have a crush, is it really a crush? and other great philosophical debates with jeon jeongguk.

or, jeongguk kinda fucks up and jimin can only take so much.

흰 여름 ('White Summer') : yoonmin, non-au, lil angst, rated T, 24k words. 

summary: “Diversity,” Namjoon had said when he had explained the concept to them. “Learning to love yourself, no matter what.” “We already did that,” Yoongi had pointed out. “Literally the same title.” But Namjoon, when he looked at him, had seemed strangely bright and somber at the same time. “Not like this,” he had said.Or, Jimin and Yoongi have to kiss for an MV. And deal with the fallout.

7 Minutes in Heaven : yoonmin, highschool au, fluff, mutual pining, rated T, 8.4k words, too long a summary.

♛ Chrysoprase ♛ : vmin, abo but with a twist, aristocracy au, ongoing, a piece written beautifully, rated E, 39k words, rich tae and poor min.

summary (partial):  Taehyung is a rich boy who gets captivated by a trapeze act from an unknown Omega at a theater show sending him on a ride of emotions--and ruts. 

   Mono No Aware : jikook, rated E, 104k words, divorce au, model agency au, summary’s too long.

Cotton Candy  : highschool au, yoonmin, highscool band au, another GREAT fic, set in the 90s, 240k words, rated E.

summary (partial):  As spring turns into summer, school band Cotton Candy unexpectedly loses its singer and the members are forced to look for a new vocalist. Six boys find one in the form of the promiscuous pink haired boy Park Jimin who makes a home in their hearts and finally finds a place he belongs.

Beta Tau Sigma : come FIGHT me, but this IS a classic, frat au, i scrolled through this long ass post twice, i cant believe its not down there, namjin, you need an ao3 acc to read this, anyways i suggest you to make one, crack, 123k words, rated M, shenanigans, side yoonmin with a tiny storyline, FAV. 

Before This Christmas : taegi, non au, amnesia, a great fic, rated T, 8k words, summary’s too long.

black versus blue : taekook, soulmate au, a LOT of angst, i LOVE this fic, hurt/comfort, dr tae, side yoonmin and namjin, rated E, 41k words.

summary: Taehyung had always dreaded meeting his soulmate, unlike the rest of the world’s population. He always hid the words scrawled in black cursive on the inside of his right wrist and felt terror at the thought of them turning blue, of his soulmate speaking them.

And as he sprinted down the packed Seoul sidewalk, hot tears streaming down his cheeks and sobs choking his throat, he knew he'd been right.

Or was he?

sick boy : vmin, LOTS of homophobia, fluff and angst, dystopian korea, its a really good fic, rated M, 8k words, side namkook and yoonseok.

summary: Jimin has always lived in a society where pride was held higher than anything else. His kind nature is unwelcome, and he spends most of his life alone.

Taehyung is the boy who dyes his hair every week, is too eccentric for his own good and is, most importantly, not like the rest of the town that they live in.

Look out the window, do you see love? : jikook, I LOVE THIS, kidnapping au, ceo kook, college student min, tsundere kook, heavy smut and drama, rated E, 100k words, summary too long.

a blessed touch, skin deep : yoonjin, slightly platonic, oneshot, fluff, massage au, but not the smutty kind, rated G, 3k words.

summary: Hoseok recommends his favorite masseur to Yoongi.

Yoonjin Massage AU, with side Hoseok/Jimin and Taehyung/Jungkook

the heart of a siren : jikook, pirates au, angst, enemies to lovers,rated E, 92k words.

summary:  Beware of what you take from the sea. She is not a treasure to be plundered, but a dark, vast void that will swallow you up and think nothing of it.

The Collabofornication : yoonmin, idol au, rapper au, lots of smut, 32k words, enemies to lovers, rated E, 32k words, summary’s too long, really good.

teeter totter : jihope, such a cute fic, 5+1, i love this one, neighbours au, 5k words, rated T.

summary:  five times jimin accidentally stumbles into his neighbour and the one time it’s very much on purpose.

Take Care : a short jikook, accident au, angst and fluff, rated G, 2k words, college au.

summary:  Roommates Jungkook and Jimin are in the midst of a friendship rift until an accident brings them together again.

Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo : yoonmin, rated T, royal au, 34k words, cute, i really like this twist on classics kinda thing.

summary: Everyone (including Taehyung, Jimin's best friend) could only talk about the ball the royal family was going to give in honor of the princes. Every single one was thinking and worrying about which clothes they should wear and how to impress the two, very single, princes. Jimin? He could only think about the new regular, who had a sweet tooth and the cutest smile he had ever seen.

The Universe Has Moved For Us, Without Missing A Single Thing : minjoon, such a feel good fic, tsundere min, canon, with a bit of yoonjin, so good, rated M, 14k words.

summary: Jimin is tasked to create his next comeback with his least favourite producer at BIGHIT, RM.

He is petty and bitter from day one.

Or, is he just really bad at feelings?

yesteryear's charms : jikook, hp au, a lot of fun, enemies to lovers (if you dont know, im a sucker for this particular trope), rated M, 18k words.

summary: After losing a bet, Jimin has to perform the Jingle Bell Rock routine from the iconic Muggle film, Mean Girls, at Hogwarts' annual talent show, dressed in red pleather and black knee-high boots. He receives a bigger reaction from certain people (read: ult rival Jeon Jeongguk) than expected.

a dose of salt : jikook, I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS FIC, with a lot of taejin, doctors au, enemies to lovers, pls check it, its great, rated E, 145k words, ongoing, almost finished.

summary: Park Jimin is a renown cardiothoracic surgeon—a genius, a medical prodigy, the best surgeon at the hospital. He’s kind, friendly, handsome, and patient. He’s also the son of the hospital’s Chairman. But nobody needs to know that since he’s worked for and earned everything he’s accomplished on his own without the help of nepotism.Everyone loves him. 

Everyone but Jeon Jungkook, the hot new military trauma surgeon straight out of the army. The decorated veteran is brilliant and quick witted, but has a hot temper and absolutely zero tolerance for bullshit.

When Park Jimin makes a bad first impression on him, things get extremely salty between the two very different personalities.

playing with fire : vmin, ONE OF MY ULT FAVS, rated T, 30k words, college au, drama actor v, dancer min, enemies to lovers, SO GOOD, laser tag.

summary:  Despite never seeing eye to eye on things, Taehyung and Jimin find that they have more in common than expected through a game of laser tag, a play and a dance competition.

At 4 O'clock, I'll Stay : vmin, footballer (soccer) v, bar owner min, enemies to lovers, a good fic, grumpy min, rated E, 35.8k words.

summary (part of it):  the one where Taehyung goes to Jimin's bar to talk bad about his latest soccer matches and Jimin waters down his drinks by "accident."

Happy Ending : namseok, implied OT7, massage au, rated M, smut, 2.3k words.

Rose Quartz and Pink Opal : such a good fic, i love this, if its down there im sorry just tell me in the comments, jikook, rated T, 21.4k words.

summary:  “Everyone is born with either 1 or 2 small powers. If 1, then your soulmate has the other. They will swap the first time you see each other, and you will obtain both when you fall in love. If born with 2, you have no soulmate.”

tell me how to make this better : hurt/comfort, angst, vmin, non au, such a good fic, go check it, summary’s too long, rated T, 44.6k words.

loverboy : vminkook, a masterpiece, manipulation, assasin au, powers au, rated M, 9.7k words.

summary:  this much jimin’s figured out: sometimes, somehow, his words make people fall in love with him.

Never Judge a Book by its Cover : jikook, rated M, library au, 25k words

summary: Thanks to Jungkook's idiot best friend, he drowned the books he borrowed from the library. Now, he has to work there to work off his debt. He doesn't really like the job but that one boy that always has his nose burried in his books makes his days much better.Or in which Jungkook meets bookworm Jimin and falls harder than he thought he would.

note: squeelll, I love this fic!

we've got chemistree : jikook, rated T, 19k words, fake dating au. (can’t put summary bc its too long)

note: I love love love it. do check it out.

The Pink Envelope : yoonmin, no ratings, 12k words, highschool au.

summary: to a prompt I received on tumblr "Oh shit, sorry I got the wrong locker" When Jimin is sending love letters to his crush via locker but fails because it is Yoongi's locker.au where 6 of them are highschool students (Jin has already graduated)... and Jungkook is also in highschool with the rest of them (please don't ask me why I just want him to be there hahahaha)

note: cute and fluffy.

Him : jikook, rated M, 35k words, college au, dancer!jimin au.

summary: 'And like the dawn, you woke the world inside of me You were the brightest shade of sun when I saw you' or “I mean a muse,” explained Yoongi, eyes traveling to Hoseok. “Someone that makes you feelthe shots. Not only take them.”Jeongguk snorted. “You’re just whipped.”“Maybe,” agreed Yoongi, winking. “But it works.”

note: touched my feels, lovely.

Nu ABO: A Memoir by Park Jimin : jikook, rated E, 34k words, non au, a/b/o au.

summary:  The world didn't think it was necessary to give him a guide when it shoved all of these omega hormones at him, so here it is, Park Jimin's handbook on dealing with heats, unrequited love, and Jeon Jungkook.

note: amazing! Omega jimin dont wanna be an omega, and tries really hard to be an alpha. easily one of my faves.

Blackjack : yoonseok, vmin, namjin, chat fic, game fic, slightly creepy but light hearted, happy ending, not your ordinary chat fic, LOVE this, puzzles, mystery, rated T, 78k words, summary too long.

Fake Sugar : jinkook, rated E, non-tropey sugar daddy au, competitive eater jin, rich jungkook, fake sugar daddy, 87k words.

summary: im sorry, its too long. but ill put part of it.

(Hedge Fund wunderkind and Certified Awkward Gay Jungkook needs a sugar baby to show off at work, and Professional Competitive Eater and Objectively Beautiful Human Jin just wants to stop working shitty side-jobs. Fake Sugar Daddy AU. A trope and a half.)

note: a rare pair fic. (that rhymes, lol) i love the author, i have read all of his fics, i think. 

Worldwide Lonesome : yoonjin, rated E, 39k words, non au.

summary:  After the BBMA, Yoongi starts bringing guys back to the house.

note: i honestly love this ship and fic, it talks a lot about how closeted jin is and this fic has a great characterization for jin.

 Pause, Rewind, Play: jikook, non au, rated G, 3k words.

summary:  Jimin doesn’t know why it starts. Maybe it’s the eightieth post he’s seen today about him being rejected by Jungkook. But whatever the reason, Jimin starts to not care anymore.

note: loovve it, short and really good.

The Boy in the Music Box : yoonmin, mystical au i guess?, college au, rated T, 52k words.

summary: Yoongi doesn’t really expect anything special when he finds an old music box in his grandmother’s attic and she tells him to keep it. Oh sure, he expects the music box to be a pretty decoration to add to the stale interior of his small apartment. He expects it to play a tune and he might even dare to expect the barely-functioning little ballerina to dance along to the soft chimes, but that's it, really.The last thing he expects is for the little ballerina to take human form at night and throw his life out of balance with radiant smiles, soft giggles, and a heart-wrenching story.

note: another author i absolutely love, this fic is amazing. its one of the only fluffy ones that has made me weep! do check it out

pick me up, buttercup : taekook, soulmate au, crack au, 9k words, rated G.

summary: AU where your soulmate's first words to you will be tattooed on your wrist when you meet. Which freakin sucks, because Jungkook's forearm will now forever read "Hey baby, if you were a booger, I'd pick you first."What the fuck, universe.

note: a very light fic, i love it so much. its really really good.

Cherry Tree : yoonmin, hanahaki au, angsty, rated T, 10k words.

summary: Yoongi always thought that Jimin looked like a cherry blossom, like Spring had manifested itself in the form of a human.Now he knows for sure.

note: really good, not a tragic ending i swear.

good game, well played : vmin, library au, college au, rated G, 23k words.

summary:  AN EXCERPT FROM PARK JIMIN'S PLANNER (ft. Jeon Jeongguk) -grammar reading :( -get pasta -buy the nice guy from the library ❤MY BIG GAY CRUSH❤ coffee

note: super good, college aus are one of my favs.

fairy brat : yoonmin, 3k words, rated T, supernatural au.

sumary: “I don’t know if you know but,” Namjoon says, “Hoseok’s roommate is a little… difficult. Yoongi hyung is a good guy, though, I promise.”“Anyone who lives with Hoseok hyung can’t be that bad,” Jimin says.Jimin could not be more wrong.

note: tsundere yoongi, really good!

The Perfect Japchae : yoonjin, 19k words, rated T, neighbours/college au.

summary:  In the eight months he’d lived here, neither of them had done more than nod in greeting when they passed in the hallway. Most of the time he just ignored Kim Seokjin and went about his own business while inwardly seething. A little voice deep down questioned why, exactly, he was so pissed all the time whenever he thought about his neighbour… but Min Yoongi really didn’t have an answer.

note: i love this pairing, such a good fic!!!

aye, love (you led me to a miracle) : yoonjin, rated T, 6k words, Cafe AU, tsundere yoongi.

summary: It’s six in the morning and all Yoongi wants is some fucking coffee.(Not to be, not to be assaulted with a possibly illegal stare and a smile that could probably bring dead flowers back to life, god dammit)

note: such an amount of fluff, i love it.

I need you boy (you're beautiful) : jikook, chat fic, rated T, 18k words.

summary: (part of it)

t h e d e s t r o y e r: jimin who is ur future husband

ChimChimz: ok so like

ChimChimz: here’s the thingy

00ngi: omfg you don't even know who he is

ChimChimz: uM

note: love it, really good.

to be with you : jikook, rated T, non au, 4k words.

summary: 5 times jungkook tries (and fails) to confess to jimin and the 1 time he succeeds.

note: really cute fic, but i think ill not put notes on all fics now, im getting fed up

A Wish Your Heart Makes : kook/everyone, polyyy, smut, another venturing into newer waters fic, rated E, 16.6k words.

summary: "This can't be the right translation," Taehyung says, before Jungkook can do something crazy like just ask to suck Jimin's dick. Taehyung has his phone out, and is frowning as he taps the screen. "But I looked it up on Naver, and there might be something called sex pollen? Sex pollen? Like, plants?"

gladly beyond : jikook, 21k words, rated M, enemies to lovers fic, sports fic.

summary: too long, but jimin sees the tattoo of his “enemy” at a strip club.

note: another trope i love :)

Riptide : jikook, i actually visited this 10 times?!?, rated M, non au, 62k words, rated M.

summary (part of it):  A three year story [2013-2016] of coming together, breaking apart, and putting each other back together again. Jeon Jungkook learns about change, growing up, and the hardships of falling in love with a friend.

note: really love it

Hey, Baby, I've Got My Ion You : jikook, chem au, bad puns, rated T, 4k words.

summary: 

everyone: fvck the maknae jimin: i'm trying - (aka: chem au where jeongguk jumps two grades and becomes jimin’s lab partner and maybe a little more than that.)

note: copper tellurium (loll)

honest you do : jikook, idol au, reality show au, 26k words, rated T.

summary: “Do you think you’ll be a good husband?” Jimin smiles. “I’ll really, really try.” 

Korea's darling, Park Jimin, gets married.

note: a great fic, honestly.

In the Line of Fire : jikook, are you even here?, if so ty, frat au, 11k words, rated E.

summary:  For some reason, Jimin was everyone's favorite target.

A truth universally aknowledged : yoonmin, college au, rated T, 6k words.

summary: "It is a truth universally aknowledged that Park Jimin has the most wanted ass out of the whole college."AKA 5 times that Jimin gets asked out and Min Yoongi butts in + 1 time where the tables are turned.

Unrequited : yoonjin, taejin, hanahaki au, rated T, 3k words, not a happy ending.

summary: The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. It can be cured without side effects only when the feelings are returned. 

Seokjin starts coughing up crimson-red rose petals.

pulling shapes just for your eyes : taekook, reality show au, rated E, really good (i cant be bothered to make a note lol), 110k words, a lot of sex.

summary: The number one rule when you're a producer on a show like Miss Right, Taehyung thinks, should be do not fall for the bachelor. It's such a shame Taehyung has never been good at following rules.

ringa linga : fluff, yoonmin, one-shot, best man au, rated G, 3k words, crack.

summary: Best man Yoongi needs to pick up the rings for his best friends' wedding. The problem? The clerk won't hand them over.

Enter lifesaver and fake-fiancé, Jimin.

note: light-hearted, really fun.

Heart of War : namjin, 173k words, royalty au, really frickin good, ongoing, rated M.

summary: For the protection of his people, Prince Seokjin has to marry his fiancé’s killer: the alpha king of the most ruthless and feared kingdom in all the lands with a reputation of being a cold blooded monster on the battlefield.

Worst of all, the omega prince doesn't even speak their language.

my heart flutters from the sugar high : taegi, I LOVE THIS FIC IT’S SO GOOOD, <cough> 5.9k words, rated M, canon compliant, crack, every so slighty tropey, just a teeennyy bit, fake dating au.

summary:  Yoongi and Taehyung sneak around together, cheating on their diets. The group? They've drawn different conclusions.

Seeking Alpha : jikook, I love this author, 17k words, rated M, a/b/o fic, but not the wolfy (lol) kind, i guess you could say ‘in a modern setting’, cracky.

summary:  It was meant to be a “fuck you” to the dating world as Jimin knew it. He was done with dating, fed up with alphas, so he put a message out to the world to say so. How could he have guessed the sweetest alpha ever would respond to it just to prove him wrong?

The Jeon Pack : jikook, a/b/o dynamics, THE BEST abo fic you’ll ever read, 70k words, rated E, the wolfy kind (heh)

summary: Jungkook's pack had survived centuries in the cold unforgiving forest. They followed strict traditions and laws to ensure their survival against nature and rival packs. Soon the responsibility of leading the pack would fall on his shoulders but before assuming the position of head alpha, he needed to choose an omega mate.

The problem was that Jungkook was in love with an omega that hated his guts.

浮世 U K I Y O : yoonmin, i’m pretty sure you’ve read house of cards and songbird and the sea??, this one goes in the same category, a breed of those two classics, Mafia au, rated E, almost complete, 366.9k words, oh and btw if you haven’t the above two ill link them right below.

summary: “Is that what they say about me? I'm stuff of nightmares?” “You own a city and you painted it with your colors,” Jimin says, his voice is quiet and his scent subdued. “Why wouldn't people have nightmares about you? You are scary.” “Are you scared of me?”Yoongi owns a city that he painted red until a man that doesn't seem to truly exist steals something from him. And all the strings lead to Jimin, a succubus who works in one of his brothels.

House of Cards : the LEGENDARY fic, vminkook, gets you right in the feels, dont waste your time here go read it, 394k words, rated E, mafia au.

summary: Jungkook is the heir to a mob empire, the most notorious in the whole of Seoul. Taehyung is a rookie sent in to infiltrate by his select team and bring the empire crumbling down."You knew the game and played it, it kills to know that you have been defeated."

The Songbird and the Sea : AGGHHHH, THIS IS THE BEST FIC EVERRR, made me love pirates, yoonmin, just read it, 255k words, pirate au, rated M.

summary: (wayy too long, go read it!!!)

time slip : jikook, rated T, alternate canon, 29k words, time-related fic

summary:  Jimin wakes up in the year 2017, which is very strange, considering the fact that last he checked it was 2013.

note: a great canon fic

A Glass of Water : jikook, but namjoon pov, a fresh fic (others aint rotten mind you), 8k words, rated T, college au.

summary: Namjoon is maybe a little over protective of Jimin and takes it upon himself to find out the identity of his new boyfriend. The others are absolutely no help.

Or, Jungkook and Jimin are dating and everyone knows except Namjoon.

You Broke My Heart (but I broke it myself) : jikook (haven’t you gotten fed up yet XD), anggstty, 19k words, rated M, alternate au.

summary:  Jimin's fiancé has abandoned him on his wedding day, and Jeon Jungkook, Jimin's first love and worst heartbreak, is back.

You Don't Bring Me Flour : short jikook, fluff and crack, college au, rated G.

summary:  In order to graduate, Park Jimin must convince cute grocery cashier Jeon Jungkook that this sack of flour is his beloved child.

Shooting Stars and Silver Moons : vmin, rated E, 20k words, fake-dating jikook, college au, bff fic.

summary: Yoongi and Jimin make a bet, Taehyung makes bad decisions.

(Or: "I'm kind of pissed you didn't choose me to fake date, I'm your best friend")

blindside : namhope, namseok, blind date au, rated T, i love this fic so much, 12k words.

summary:  Hoseok finally somewhat has a date. A blind date, but a date nonetheless.

The Shaman and the Exorcist : namjin, spiritual au, ghost au, but not the scary kind, college au, cracky, rated M, 145k words, apparently i visited this fic 21 TIMES (gasspp), i LOOVEE this too

summary: (too long)

in your eyes (it's where i wanna be) : yoonmin, tooth rotting fluff, rated T, 5k words, college au.

summary: Jimin pauses with his marker inches away from the cup, because — is he really going to do this? Isn’t it a bit old-fashioned to write something flirty on a coffee cup? But no matter what his churning gut says about danger and what the hell are you doing do you want to die, this guy is — with no better way to put it — totally Jimin’s Type with a capital T.

(Or: Jimin accidentally starts a nickname war with the cute blonde who likes his coffee way too bitter.)

i'll stick to you like glue-cose : jikook, rated T, 7k words, enemies-to-lovers kinda, really good.

summary:  Jimin merely wanted to study in peace, yet a certain five-foot ten frat boy - unfortunately also a past hook up - that epitomizes the very definition of smugness in one entire body whose ego is as big and full-scaled as the national debt, won't let him.

you're only brave in the moonlight : smuutt, bff au, vmin, college au, rated E, 14k words.

summary: There are reasons, very specific reasons that justify why—in three years of being hopelessly pathetically in love with his best friend—Jimin has not said a single word. Certainly hasn’t made a single move or attempt at a pass.But when it comes down to it, three years is a long time. A very long time.So when Jimin’s dam breaks, it breaks hard.(Or, Jimin asks Taehyung for help with taking photographs.)

(it's a paradise) it's a war zone : jikook, vacation au, really cute, enemies to lovers, rated T, 7k words.

summary:  murphy's law states that "anything that can go wrong will go wrong." jimin could maybe make peace with that if it didn't mean sharing a room and a bed with jeon jeongguk, the thorn in his side, for the entirety of his vacation.

once upon a timeshare : jikook, ex fic, rom com style, cute AF, 32k words, rated E.

summary:  Jungkook is in desperate need of a vacation, but spending two weeks in Namjoon and Hoseok’s timeshare in Okinawa with his recently separated ex of three years was probably (definitely) not what he had in mind.

Tie Me Down : taegi, lovvveee this fic, really fun, has drama elements to it, rated M, college au, 24k words.

summary: “I’ve just woken up with a fucking splitting headache, to find myself fucking taped to an office chair in a fucking living room that smells like unwashed socks and takeaway food. How am I? How do you think I fucking am?” “Wow. That’s a lot of f-bombs you’re dropping. Did anyone tell you that you need a healthy dose of positivity?” 

In which Yoongi’s life is a parody of Taken and Taehyung is just trying his goddamn hardest not to get arrested.

a sugar coated pill and a pick me up : soccer dad fic!!! namjin, kids taekook, rated T, really good, rated T, 25k words.

summary (only a part):  namjin are soccer dads who fall in luv

shōnen-ai love you : one of the most fun and cute (read: fluff) fics, vmin, rated T, manga fic, high school fic, 4k words.

summary: "What if I woo him with what he likes?" Jungkook frowns. "Knowing you, it's going to be a disaster." "I'm in pursuit of Park Jimin," Taehyung tells them dramatically, just as the bell rings and the teacher starts writing the first question on the board. "I'll do anything."

Doing anything means, apparently, studying BL manga.

My Cup of Tea : cute and short, minjoon, 6k words, high school fic, milk tea (lol) fic.

summary: One of Taehyung's many admirers tries to woo him by bringing him milk tea every day but Taehyung is lactose intolerant so it's always Jimin who drinks it.

From a distance away, the admirer watches.

Pastel : POLLYY, not really my cup of tea but i wanted to explore you know, jungkook/everyone, i liked it kinda, bdsm, baby kook, daddy kink, rated E, 188k words, bottom jk.

summary: Jeongguk learns the age-old lesson that you can't run from who you are, or who you like, for that matter.

There are a LOT of fics left, I’ll slow update.

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3739 Chapter: 19/? Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 19

He tried to stay at home and wait patiently for Tobirama to come back, he really did. After his time away the man deserved a chance to reunite with his precious ones in private. Unfortunately the encounter with his father had left Madara antsy and his stomach felt tight from the need to share this with his husband. Not saying anything felt like keeping secrets and even though he had no intentions of actually keeping this to himself, obviously planned to bring it up as soon as Tobirama returned, that apparently wasn’t enough for the heavy lead ball that had replaced his heart.

Less than an hour and several anxious circuits around their living room later and he was out the door again with a scowl on his face that sent many people scrambling to get out of his way. Even as he wound through the streets of the Uchiha compound Madara told himself he was being stupid but he couldn’t seem to convince himself to turn around.

Not many people gave him a second look once he made his way in to the Senju compound. Several more people sent him respectful nods than he used to get here and despite being distracted with the heavy issue on his mind he still found a moment to swell with pride. It was nice to see more and more people in the village acknowledging him with respect the way his own clan did.

Tobirama’s chakra wasn’t hard to find and it was no surprise that he would visit Touka first. Actions speak louder than words but words had their own power and Madara had noticed that his husband brought up Touka in casual conversation much more often than he did Hashirama. Clearly he was closer to his cousin than his brother. The idea was a little hard for someone like Madara to wrap his head around who had no idea which of the fatherless brats in the Uchiha clans were his cousins but had almost made an art form out of the protective older sibling routine. It wasn’t for him to judge though.

So focused on his mission was he that Madara very nearly waltzed straight in to the home without even bothering to knock, stopping himself at the last second and freezing in place. Though he was more than certain if it came down to it he could defeat Touka in battle he wasn’t really up for volunteering to fight her on her own turf. He had seen her on the sparring fields enough times to know how much damage she could do to him on the way down and that wasn’t something he wanted to deal with just then. Very carefully he took a step back and knocked on the door, forcing himself to wait politely until the barrier opened to reveal Tobirama with his brows drawn inward.

“I felt you approaching but I assumed you wished to see Hashirama. Is something wrong?”

“Ah…a little…” Madara cleared his throat when he saw Touka appear at the end of the hallway. “Since I know you’ll share whatever I say with her perhaps I might come in and you can both hear what happened at the same time.”

“Yeah whatever, let him in.” Her voice was deep and rich, apparently, when she wasn’t snapping out commands to the rest of the security teams.

The two of them had worked together quite a bit since Madara was assigned head of security but despite the obvious connection between them they’d never made any attempts to discuss personal matters, keeping their conversations entirely professional and always making sure there was a witness in the room with them whenever possible. It was no secret that Touka had very little warm feelings for him.

His first glimpse of the home’s interior was an odd sort of surprise. In a weird way he had expected the upstairs to resemble the laboratory downstairs, cold and minimal, but instead he found a warm cozy little nest with tasteful decorations and artwork on the wall that immediately prompted a mental note to ask for the artist’s name later. Touka gave him a long, slow look before waving him towards a single armchair but Tobirama pulled him down on to the couch with a roll of his eyes and made a point of sitting close enough for their clothing to brush together.

“So, tell me.” Touka lifted the tea she must have been enjoying before he arrived. “What was so important that you needed to come interrupt our private conversation?”

“It’s about Tajima.” All traces of ire slipped away from her face instantly, replaced with a blank slate. From the many meetings they had attended together he recognized the look of a soldier awaiting details and withholding judgment.

“Go on.”

“He got to Izuna before I did this morning and he did not take the news of my brother’s injury very well. Long story short he’s going to be kicking up some sort of fuss but I don’t know when and I don’t know what. What I can tell you is that he’s a dramatic bitch with an unfortunate amount of brains.” Madara pinched his lips together with a sigh. “Actually that could describe a lot of Uchiha.”

Beside him Tobirama’s hand had disappeared inside the clothing Madara had been so proud to see him wearing earlier and came back out holding a small notebook. “I believe we’re going to need that longer story.”

Telling them what happened didn’t take much time. Answering all the questions both of them fired at him one after the other took several times longer than that. He found himself a little surprised that most of Touka’s questions focused on Tajima’s tone or how he held himself when he said what he did but when he asked later she told him it was because she already knew Tobirama would be asking the other important questions. Questions like thought patterns, how he had reacted to similar things in the past, what Madara thought his father meant by specific turns of phrase.

And most importantly: what he thought they should do about it.

Unfortunately that was one question he wasn’t at all sure how to answer. How to react all depended on what Tajima decided to do in the face of what he saw as a betrayal. It also depended on how much support Tajima could count on from the people of Konoha or the high council members. Sadly, he also had trouble predicting which side of the fence Izuna would come down on. If it came to the option of splitting the Uchiha off from the venture they had been a part of setting in motion Madara honestly couldn’t say what his brother would do. The man hadn’t exactly integrated with any grace.

“So this is basically a wait and see situation?” Touka summed up after the questions had been flying for a while. Madara grunted.

“Just don’t hold your breath. He can be patient when he needs to.”

“We’ll be ready whenever he decides to move,” Tobirama said, placing one of his hands over Madara's and squeezing reassuringly. He wasn’t about to mention it in front of other company but Madara actually found it more reassuring that his husband chose to leave their hands linked together. It seemed oddly intimate from what he had seen of Senju practices but then he supposed that Tobirama considered Touka’s presence still private enough for such displays.

He himself wasn’t all that comfortable with Touka in particular but he had been raised in a clan that saw nothing wrong with publicly expressing themselves so he saw no reason to encourage Tobirama to remove his grip. The firm grip was steadying and it felt nice to have that small weight on the back of his own hand, a small connection to another human being. It was also just distracting enough that he almost missed the dismissive tone in Touka’s voice when she spoke again, a rookie mistake from such a well-trained shinobi as himself.

“Much as I’m sure we both appreciate you bringing this up as soon as possible, I believe I’d like to go back to speaking with my cousin now. He was mine a long time before he was yours.” She lifted one eyebrow in a challenge that he was already puffing up in response to when Tobirama snorted.

“You’ve gone longer without seeing me in the past,” he pointed out, “and you know very well I was leaving soon anyway to go speak with Hashirama about the situation surrounding the Daimyo.”

“Shouldn’t you report that to your father first?” Madara asked. Surprisingly, his husband only shrugged in a careless manner.

“I sent a mission report to him this morning before you woke up, he’s aware of what happened. Anija will have ten times the number of questions to ask. Better to get him out of the way first.” The wrinkled in Tobirama’s nose said he was not looking forward to fielding all those questions.

And what sort of husband would Madara be if he allowed to man to face such horrors alone? “You wouldn’t mind if I came with you to Hashirama's?”

“You didn’t get your fill of his company while I was gone?”

“Well…” Madara cleared his throat and looked away.

Sensing weakness, Touka zeroed in on him like a shark and threw him under the bridge without mercy. “How could he enjoy anyone’s company when he spent most of that time moping at home?”

Flushing in a way that made it very obvious he had something to hide, Madara cleared his throat and hurried to suggest they get a move on over to Hashirama's house. He was very careful not to study the expression on Tobirama’s face while they all stood up. Things had been moving in to uncharted waters between them lately and even he wasn’t sure how he would have liked Tobirama to react to the fact that Madara had missed him while he was away.

The journey over to Hashirama's was short, just a quick jaunt across the backyard, but the man’s expression was priceless to see them all trooping in together. It occurred to Madara that probably some of them were meant to be at work this morning but he could not have cared less. Surely the village could survive some of them being late every so often and if Hashirama was already late to work then he could stand to be a little later in favor of hearing some important news.

News that Madara was not supposed to be sharing with anyone. He should probably warn them all to keep their mouths shut.

Surprisingly, Hashirama listened to the story with a lot more calm than any of them expected. Sometimes Madara forgot that underneath the smiling carefree personality he preferred to show his friends was the serious heart of the warrior who had been dubbed the God of Shinobi even at such a young age. His reaction to the potential threat of Tajima starting a civil war in the small haven of peaceful living they had only created a few months before was to sit back with a serious face so rarely seen off of the battlefield and hum in thought.

“I will not let him hurt anyone.” The finality of his voice left no room for doubt. If Hashirama said he would not allow it then it would not happen.

“He’s already tried direct confrontation with your father,” Madara pointed out. “I’m not so sure that he’ll try to outright hurt anyone. He’s intelligent when he wants to be and his frontal assault has already failed; it’s more likely he’ll try for something sneakier.”

“Like what, though?” Tobirama asked.

Madara shifted in his seat so that his thigh pressed against his husband’s under the table. “I can’t say. Knowing him it will be quiet, underhanded, and it will be something meant to make him look good while making Butsuma look bad.”

He could see Touka eyeing him again but ignored her. If she didn’t find his answers pleasing enough she was welcome to go ask Tajima for herself.

“You’re the head of security,” Tobirama pointed out, the change in topic sudden enough that it nearly gave him whiplash. He turned to look at his husband with a frown, trying to piece together what he might be getting at, but eventually had to give in and ask.

“I am. And?”

“Do you have any teams with enough skill to look in to him without being noticed? How closely does your father follow the schedules you post? If you added a few extra patrols here and there, especially around the tower or, say, along whatever paths he typically travels during the day, would he even notice?” Leaning forward, Tobirama rapped his fingers along the table’s surface. “I’m just wondering if we could maybe catch wind of whatever he’s planning before he sets it in motion. Or with at least enough time to move in counter.”

“That’s a good idea, actually. Patrol schedules were one of my duties back in the old compound as well so I don’t think he’s ever bothered to do more than glance over the ones I hand in to him now – if that. He trusts that I know what I’m doing. If I add an extra team or two a few days a week he won’t notice.”

Touka sat forward as well. “I could follow him.”

“No.” Madara shook his head. “That part I don’t agree with. I trust your skills but all it takes is one slip up or a bit of extra vigilance on his part and I will not be part of losing someone so important to my husband.” Because when it came to threats against himself Madara had no doubt his father would act with deadly force and explain away his actions when the dust had settled. Against others he would have no mercy.

“Yeah. I’m sure you’re real worried about my safety.” Still, Touka was looking at him a little differently even as she spoke and Tobirama was openly staring, speechless.

Hashirama felt no need to hide the tears in his eyes as he reached across the table with both hands. “Oh Madara, you’re such a good friend and a good man! I knew the two of you would be so great for each other if you just gave it a little time! Come here, come let me hug you!”

“No, get off!” Madara scraped his chair backwards along the kitchen tile to escape.

“Oh come on, just one hug!” Hashirama pouted and reached farther. “I bet you let Tobi hug you!”

“That doesn’t mean I want you to get your paws all over me! Where is your wife? Tell her to come control her man-child!”

He should have known that inevitably the veneer would drop back in to place and the silly Hashirama they all saw day to day would show himself again. It was like the man was allergic to being serious unless absolutely necessary. Reluctantly sacrificing the warm feeling of having his thigh pressed up against Tobirama’s without the other pulling away, Madara stood from his chair to take himself out of Hashirama's reach and crossed his arms with a stern expression. He was not moved when his friend pouted in return.

“I guess there’s really nothing more to say on the situation?” Touka said after clearing her throat.

“Oh there’s always much to say,” Tobirama corrected her. “Unfortunately it seems as though most of it would be speculation from here on out. From this point all we can do is keep ourselves sharp and remember not to react too strongly if and when something does happen.”

“Exactly. That’s what he wants.” Even admitting it made Madara want to shake his head for his father’s dramatics.

“Right.” Touka slid down in her chair and tapped one jagged fingernail against her chin. “What he wants is a big reaction in his favor. He wants everyone irrational because high emotions would make them easier to manipulate in to seeing things the way he wants us to.”

Madara pinched the bridge of his nose. He really hated the sneaky part of being a shinobi. It would be so much better if all disagreements could be settled by tossing each other around a training field for a while and shouting aimlessly. Short, to the point, and since he was stronger than most that meant he would win most fights. A perfect world, really.

His vision of a perfect world may have had some slight dictator undertones but he’d never claimed he himself was anything close to perfect.

“We’re done here, I guess. I’ll get out of the way of your little family reunion and…I don’t know. Do some paperwork I guess. Are any of us supposed to be working right now? It feels weird that we all have the day off.” Madara looked around the room to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes.

“A gift from my father,” Hashirama said. “When a returning shinobi had been injured as our brothers were he’s learned that it’s better to give their families the day off rather than risk their distraction at work. Distraction leads to mistakes. And he says it builds loyalty from the families to be seen as caring.” He twisted his mouth to one side, clearly agreeing with the result but taking no pleasure from the reasons behind them. Butsuma was a clever man too it seemed.

That solved one of the many mysteries chasing themselves around his head, at least. Madara nodded to himself. “Alright. Well. Then back home for me I suppose. Have fun with...whatever assholery you Senju get up to when you’re all together.”

“I believe you will find”-Tobirama delicately extricated himself from his chair and brushed imaginary dust from his front-“that I represent an entirely different clan now. If home is your destination I should like to go home as well. Hashirama, Touka, I’ll see you both tomorrow I expect.” With a serene expression he turned and headed for the front door, turning his back to Hashirama for the first time since entering the home.

As he obviously intended, the effect was immediate. The moment Hashirama caught sight of the uchiwa fan between his brother’s shoulder blades there were fat tears dripping down his cheeks so fast Madara wondered if he really could cry at will. Only the idiot’s tear-blurred vision stopped him from catching up as Madara bolted out of the room and hurried after his husband, pulling Tobirama along to hustle them both out of the house without an ounce of regret for leaving Touka to deal with that mess on her own. Hashirama was her relative after all. She must be better equipped than him to handle such situations.

Once they were outside he felt a little bit less worried by the possibility of unwanted hugs from an overgrown tree. There was only one tree around Konoha allowed to get their arms around him and that man was walking at his side with his jaw clenched tight and his eyes off in the opposite direction as he tried not to laugh out loud.

“I’m not afraid of him,” Madara insisted unsure why he felt the need to point it out.

“No, perish the thought.”

“It’s just not his business to touch me or anything.”

“Understandable.”

Madara scowled. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Yes, I am.” The tips of his ears were turning red with suppressed laughter.

“Aren’t you supposed to take my side?”

“On the contrary; having equal connection to you both, I believe I’m supposed to be the neutral party in any disputes.” It would be a lot easier to believe he meant it if he weren’t so determinedly avoiding looking over at Madara. Smarmy bastard. It was a distractingly adorable look on him.

Not really sure how to refute that, Madara chose to pout ostentatiously and turn his attention to the folks around them. A rush of pride he was unprepared for hit him with all the force of a punch in the gut when he noticed several people reacting to the blatant declaration stitched across the back of Tobirama’s clothing. With every head that he saw turning from the corner of his eye he had the strangest urge to shove his face in to theirs and shout because yes of course Tobirama belonged to the Uchiha clan. Of course he should have no shame in that. And of course he should feel comfortable walking about in public with the uchiwa riding proudly on his clothing as was right and proper.

“Should I be worried about whatever is happening in your mind right now?” Tobirama asked, breaking in to his thoughts. “You have a very worrisome smile on your face.”

“I’m fine! Nothing is – what? No. I’m good.”

“That was an extraordinarily convincing act, please hold for my applause.”

Madara tried to give his husband a flat look but it had less effect when Tobirama was already giving him one in return. So instead he huffed and tossed his head. With as much hair as he was blessed with he’d always found that to be an effective move.

“Your student missed you,” was the first thing he could think of to change the subject.

Immediately he could tell he had Tobirama’s full attention. Madara preened and without needing any further prompting he launched in to a slightly exaggerated retelling of how Kagami had shown up looking for his sensei and ended up staying for dinner. With how close the two of them had grown in such a short amount of time it would not surprise him for word of Tobirama’s return to spread far enough for little ears to hear and come greet them on their way home.

Keeping his movements as subtle as possible, he angled his own path just a little to bring himself gradually closer to the man at his side as they walked and talked about the precious people in both of their lives. Madara sort of wished he could go back in time a handful of months and tell himself that all the negative feelings he had wallowed in since the signing of the treaty were simply a waste of time. In the end it seemed like maybe married life wasn’t so bad – as long as it was Tobirama by his side.

[pewnewstv]

@carriageofaerietails // ( A NEW BEGINNING. )

Mireya joined Felix in going to the room, only disconnecting from him when he prompted her to. The room was familiar, but now it felt like it had more space because of how things had been rearranged or shifted out altogether. “I would love all of that, Felix. Thank you!” She beamed back at him, but even as she did, the child could sense nervousness in the adult’s expression. What was he worried about? Spending too much? Everyone had told her that Felix was rich, and those who hadn’t mentioned it to the girl’s face had spoken about it in her presence (knowingly or not). Of course that was reassuring to her on some level, but not because she was expecting her foster parent to buy her everything. She was just hoping that meant security, and not having to worry over losing what little she had. Those usually weren’t worries when they were together, though.

“Are you good at painting, Felix?” She had seen some home improvement shows on the TV. They were popular with a lot of grown ups, or shows like ‘Location, Location, Location’ where people moved house. Mireya did like looking at the houses and seeing what people did with them. “If we paint it, I don’t want it pink, though. Or red or black.” Mireya listed off thoughtfully. Honestly, she wasn’t sure beyond that. It had been so long since she’d had her own room, and back at that time, Mireya hadn’t exactly been old enough to be thinking about interior decor all that much. “But I don’t know what else I’d like for my room. Except some pretty lights. I would like some of those, please.”

      He honestly couldn’t help but smile at her excitement. He was happy to make her happy. He hadn’t expected to become so attached to her so quickly, but she had left a mark on his heart from the moment they met and he was glad that he had decided to make this choice to adopt her. The more time he spent with her, the closer he felt to her. He had no problem with putting off YouTube for a while to ensure she felt settled in. 

      Stepping around the room, he turned at her question, giving a light shrug. “Honestly I’ve never really painted a room before. I don’t think it could be that hard, right?” He said, feeling suddenly a bit nervous. He didn’t want to mess things up or upset her by doing it badly. Maybe it was better to hire a professional. He shook the thought up and let out a laugh at her words. “You don’t seem like a fan of pink anyways, so I’m not really surprised at that.” He said, settling on the bed now. “Like hanging lights to put around the room? Do you want them colored or white?” 

[auctes]

15-25 ;V

 OVERESTIMATING  MYSELF  ON  MAIN      //      @sanguamnis​ .

015 .     are  they  most  likely  to  fight  with  their  fists  or  their  tongue  ?

this  is  implicitly  linked  to  the  next  question ,   but  fukawa  knows  she’s  got  a  way  with  words .   while  she  can  fight  back  physically  if  necessary ,   her  most  natural  inclination  of  defense  is  to  insult ,   manipulate ,   to  deride ,   or  to  blaspheme .   fukawa’s  defense  is  the  offensive  :   when  she  feels  threatened ,   she  will  automatically  respond  with  what  she  knows  is  the  most  pointed ,   most  personally  hurtful  thing  she  can  say  to  a  person .   she  exploits  weaknesses  as  a  means  of  removing  herself  from  the  line  of  fire ,   and  she’s  bloody  good  at  it .

016 .     what  is  their  choice  of  weapon  ?

given  the  choice  ?   her  words .   her  novels .   what  i  find  so  interesting  is  the  absent  commentary  that  the  canon  makes  on  fukawa’s  career ,   and  upon  her  ability  as  a  writer .   we   know  that  she’s  universally  acclaimed ,   but  also  that  she  is  able  to  sway  public  opinion  on  even  asinine  topics  with  her  enormous  reach  ;   if  fukawa  has  an  agenda ,   her  demographic  becomes  her  greatest  weapon .   she  could  destroy  a  person’s  life  in  five  hundred  pages ,   if  she  so  wished .   probably  less .   drafts  not  permitted ,   she’d  still  take  a  verbal  crack  at  it .

017 .     when  does  your  character  think  that  violence  is  justified  or  deserved  ?

short  answer  ?   never .   fukawa’s  life  is  already  inundated  with  associations  of  violence  :   some  repressed ,   and  some  ungraciously  remaining  within  her  memory .   she  has  been  wrongfully  accused  of  being  an  inherently  violent  person  who  doles  out  a  distorted  measure  of  personal  justice ,   and  that  perception  has  ruined  her  life .   fukawa  is  more  of  a  pragmatist  :   she  believes  that  some  people  do  deserve  to  be  punished ,   yes ,   and  she  will  not  mourn  the  deaths  of  awful  people .   but  enduring  a  game  of  mandated  murder  for  survival  inevitably  alters  your  point  of  view  on  the  necessity  and  applicability  of  violence .   she  can’t  justify  it .

018 .     your  character  wakes  up  to  find  that  war  has  been  declared .   what  do  they  do  ?

go  back  to  bed ,   honestly .

019 .     if  they  could  have  a  super  power ,   what  would  they  choose ?

here’s  the  thing .   if  the  super  power  was  optional ,   fukawa  wouldn’t  choose  to  have  one .   super  powers  are  too  ingrained  within  the  world  of  fantasy  for  her  to  be  able  to  completely  buy  into  the  concept ,   or  commit  to  having  one .   she  would  rather  remain  a  mundane  person  who  is  grounded  in  reality  than  test  the  boundary  of  fiction .   but  if  i  had  a  choice   —————   and  i’m  discarding  quirk  discussion  here ,   because  that’s  another  dialogue  within  itself   —————   superhuman  suggestion  and  mind  manipulation ,   quite  honestly .   it’s  something  she  ...   has  more  or  less  mastered  as  it  is ,   so  it’s  not  too  farfetched  to  imagine  that  in  a  fantastical  capacity .

020 .     what  are  their  hobbies  ?

hobbies  ?   what  hobbies  ?   her  life  is  work ,   suffering ,   and  occasionally  sleeping .   i  would  say  writing ,   but  when  fukawa  is  writing  professionally ,   she  rarely  has  time  to  do  so  for  recreation .   she  reads  whenever  she  can ,   enjoys  going  to  galleries  and  museums ,   and  studying  humanities - wing  subjects  yields  some  measure  of  stress  relief  for  her .   syo ,   on  the  other  hand ,   is  a  more  practical  person  with  a  strong  spacial  awareness  :   she  enjoys  building  furniture ,   interior  decorating ,   high  risk  adrenaline  sports ,   and  carpentry .

021 .     how  do  they  display  affection  ?

affection  from  fukawa  is  highly  dependent  on  the  subject  and  the  nature  of  that  relationship .   she  can’t  offer  consolidating  words ,   and  physical  contact  is  a  process .   sharing  her  work   —————   her  honest ,   personal  work ,   and  not  her  professional  bibliography   —————   is  sharing  a  part  of  herself  that  fukawa  often  deems  unsafe  to  outwardly  express .   there  is  a  measure  of  deep  trust  involved  in  writing  a  piece  for  someone ,   sharing  her  poetry ,   or  telling  them  about  things  she  writes  for  herself  as  opposed  to  for  an  audience .   it’s  honestly  an  intimate  experience  for  her ,   as  fukawa  connects  with  her  own  humanity  through  writing  ;   she  can  perceive  when  those  closest  to  her  need  a  hug ,   or  their  hands  held ,   or  their  hair  stroked   —————   but  honest  affection  from  fukawa  is  simply  sharing  her  heart .

022 .     what  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  they’ve  ever  seen  ?

byakuya  togami .   i  actually  have  an  answer  for  this ,   because  i think  it  came  up  in  an  in - character  conversation  on  the  second ...?   killing  game  server .   the  most  beautiful  thing  fukawa  has  ever  seen  was  a  beached  trawler  wreck  on  a  stretch  of  sand  near  her  home .   understand  that  what  fukawa  perceives  as  beautiful  could  be  slightly  abnormal  :   the  imagery  she  employs  in  her  little  love  poems  is  ostensibly  macabre ,   and  she  is  inspired  by  personal  tragedies  and  trauma .   i  remember  waxing  poetic  about  the  rusted  hull ,   and  the  aquatic  plantlife  that  dried  and  rotted  into  the  bow ,   but  fukawa  is  most  profoundly  moved  by  things  we  would  find  ugly ,    or  depressing ,   or  confronting .   life  in  stasis ,   nature  reclaiming  appropriated  land ,   and  transcendentalism  moves  fukawa  unspeakably .   it’s  nice  imagery ,   and  was  deeply  symbolic .

023 .     what  do  they  consider  beautiful  in  others ,   physically  ?

fukawa  does  not  have  a  physical  type .   however ,   i  distinctly  remember  writing  something  once  in  which  i stated  that  she  falls  in  love  with  parts  as  opposed  to  the  sum  of them .   she  will  hyperfixate  and  romanticize  a  single  aspect  of  a  person  :   their  eyes ,   their  arms ,   their  voice ,   their  posture ,   and  for  as  long  as  she  loves  them ,   it  will  be  all  that  matters  to  her .

edit  :   i  found  it ,   and  i  chucked  it  under  a  read  more  below .   you  can  skim  it  if  you  want  to  see  what  i  mean .  

024 .     what  do  they  consider  ugly  in  others ,   physically  ?

exactly  what  she  fixated  upon  in  the  above  answer ,   usually .   consider  fukawa  falling  in  love  on  a  case - by - case  basis  :   when  she’s  attracted  to  someone ,   and  it  ends  horribly  for  her ,   she’ll  condemn  herself  by  demonising  every  precious  thought  she  had  about  a  person .   she’ll  curse  her  own  stupidity ,   her  frivolity ,   her   foolishness  for  thinking  another  person  could  ever  love  her ,   and  that  they  could  hurt  her  like  they  inevitably  do .   everything  she  found  beautiful  in  them  becomes  abhorrent ,   until  she  can’t  stand  to  think  about  them  a  moment  longer .

025 .     what  do  they  consider  beautiful  in  others  personality - wise  ?

this  one  is  easier .   fukawa  is  attracted  to  narcissists .   she  likes  self - assuredness ,   self  importance ,   and  the  incredibly  toxic  degradation  and  dehumanisation  to  which  a  narcissist’s  peers  are  subject .  

on  the  lighter  side ,   she  appreciates  courage  and  strength  of  character .   she  is  attracted  to  people  who  are  decisive ,   who  are  sure  of  who  they  are ,   and  who  are  not  afraid  to  stand  up  for  themselves  or  others .   intelligence  is  a  bonus ,   but  she  is  most  likely  to  swear  loyalty  to  a  person  who  engenders  their  values  into  their  entire  being .   bravery ,   occasional  recklessness ,   and  a  strong  drive  to  do  what  is  right  for  no  other  reason  than  it  is  the  right  thing  to  do .

it  just  takes  some  growing  up  on  her  part .

touko  fukawa  does  not  fall in  love  with  people .   she  falls  in  love  with  their  parts ,  as  opposed  to  their  wholes ;  the  attributes  of  which  come  as  freely  and  fondly  to  her  as  the  sweet  surrender  of  sleep  as  she  vanquishes  a  crucial  deadline .   love ,  as  a  tangible  epiphany ,  comes  to  her  first  within  the  pages  of  a  novel .   this  is  the  part  she  likes :   the  sweeping  grandeur  of  a  complex  indemnity ,  and  the  anticipation  of  knowing  it  for  herself .   ( she  doesn't  remember  the  rest .   but  LOVE  sticks  to  her like  yellow  wallpaper . )

she's  ten  years  old  when  love  first  draws  her  into  its  vices  —  in  the  pleasing  lilt  of  a  boy  whose  words  consume  her  heart  like  a  forest  fire .   his  voice  carries  the  implication  of  her  very  first  protagonist :  a  sweet - nothing  man  who  brings  the  first  of  touko's  hopeful - hearted  following  to  pieces .   it's  music  /  it's  magic  /  it's  more  than  her  very  beginnings  can  stand .   it  harshens  her  tone  by  virtue ,  and  underscores  the  idiosyncrasies  of  her  speech .   she  knows  the  words  to  this  elegy ;  they  fall  easily  onto  paper .

paper  she  finds  pinned  to  the  bulletin  board ,  beneath  the  book  club  sign - up  rota .   ( and  here's  when  she  remembers  the  other  side  of  love ,  and  why  she'd  submerged  it  in  far  more  saturated  sentiments . )   his  voice  still  burgeons  in  her  when  it  tightens  over  callous  condemnations  of  her  folly ;  touko  finds  it  searingly  sublime  when  he  laughs  at  her  heart's  punchline .   ( she's  sure  it  was  mesmerizing ,  still ,  when  he  was  BEGGING  her  wild - eyed  mr  hyde  to  put  down  the  scissors,  i'm  sorry ,  i'll  go  out  with  you ,  i'll  do  anything — )

she's  fourteen  years  old  when  love  flags  her  down  in  the  hallway  with  its  strong ,  safe  arms .   touko  fixates  upon  the  crook  of  his  elbow ,  languidly  inclined  against  the  locker ,  as  he  scribbles  a  number  onto  her  palm .  he's  a  swimmer :  broad  and  strong ,  to  her  frail  and  insubstantial .   she  falls  in  love  with  their  duplicity ,  with  bold  and  bashful ,  with  gallant  and  meek ;  with  the  idea  of  falling   ( and  falling ,  and  falling , )  into  those  arms ,  and  letting  them  alleviate  the  chill  that's  endemic  to  her  constitution .

constitution  that  grows  impedingly  more  frail  as  touko  sits ,  alone ,  at  the  back  of  a  dim  theater ;  falling   ( and  falling ,  and  falling , )  into  the  constricting  unease  of  the  dark .   she's  somewhat  thankful  for  the  amnesty  this  grants  for  her  tears  to  flow  freely ;  for  her  face  to  stain  with  the  dimming  remnants  of  hope  that  she'd  foolishly  allowed  herself .   her  own  arms  are  no  substitute ,  but  they  draw  her  into  herself ...  for  as  glorious  as  his  were ,  touko  is  certain  they  weren't  enough  to  overcome  the  monster  that  hung  him  like  a  portrait .

it's  a  silly  game  without  an  end .  a  game  of  bright  eyes ,  and  easy  smiles ;  of  lanky  limbs  and  chiselled  jaws .  again  and  again ,  she  lets  love  deceive  her .   yet  again ,  she  learns  its  true  name .   and  the  bodies  keep  turning ,  and  the  tally  keeps  striking ,  and  the  words  keep  flowing ,  and  it's  back  and  back  and  back  into  the  easier  parts  of  herself  that  make  love  seem  so  REAL .   she  will  never  trust  again .   she  will  never  LOVE  again .  except  that  she  DOES ,  as  her  empire  flows  from  her  fingertips  like  an  endless  rainstorm .

she's  nineteen  years  old   ( believing  she  is  seventeen , )   when  love  pierces  her  palms  and  seizes  her  against  the  wall .   she  likes  to  believe  it  was  earlier ,  in  the  graveyard  of  memories  she's  been  forced  to  disrepute .   she  is  held  captive  here ,  in  the  academy ,  with  her  love  for  him :  the  love  she  endures  for  the  quiet  turning  of  pages  in  the  library ;  for  his  relentless  precision  in  the  courtroom .   for  his  esteem ,  and  his  diligence ,  and  his  velleity  to  survive .   and  yes ,  she  thinks ,  THIS  is  the  love  she  has  intimately  named .

names  that  slide  from  his  beautiful  tongue  with  acridity  and  exactitude .   names  that  give  her  vile  personage  a  substance  she's  been  lacking .   touko  takes  these  verbal  beat - downs  with  vigor  —  and  it's  alright ,  really .   ( no ,  really !   she  doesn't  mind . )   he  only  means  to  villify  the  dispraising  nature  of  her  existence ;  to  give  her  leave  of  this  liminal  word  between  fact  and  fiction .   touko  feels  this  love  in  the  shy  callings  of  her  soul ,  and  in  the  hairline  cracks  of  what  little  composure  she  keeps .   really  —  it's  alright .

touko  fukawa  is  twenty  years  old  when  she  is  forced  to  relearn  her  definition  of  love .   in  TOWA ,  of  all  places ,  where  the  air  is  thick  with  despair - tinged  expulsions  of  god - knows  how  many  lungs .   where  the  skyline  alters  with  each  new   bout  of  destruction ,  and  RED  is  not  a  color ,  but  a  state  of  existence .   byakuya  is  gone .   a  more  cynical ,  more  resilient  touko  stands  in  his  place :  on  feet  that  save  her  from  falling ,  despite  the  debris  below  them .   on  legs  that  practice  perpetual  motion ,  despite  this  underwater - uncertainty  about  her .

genocider  keeps  their  body  intact ;  touko  holds  their  mind  together .   it's  an  empty  partnership ,  but  she's  bitterfly  thankful  for  the  aptitude  to  propel  herself  from  one  scenario  to  the  next .   thankful  for  the  motive :  not  to  KILL ,  but  to  perpetuate .   byakuya's  existence  awards  her  this .   and  she's  thankful ,  begrudgingly ,  for  komaru  naegi .   for  what ?   touko  isn't  sure  yet .   but  there  is  something  to  be  said  for  the  muted  whirring  of  her  mind  as  she  endeavors  to  amass  the  most  sensical  form  and  reason  of  their  narrative .

komaru  naegi :  so  bafflingly  simple - minded , so  ordinary  of  disposition .   little  in  the  way  of  courage ,  or  conviction :  a  bland  and  mediocre  excuse  for  a  woman ,  who  perplexes  touko  to  no  end .   mystifying ,  isn't  it ?   how  someone  so  ordinary  could  defy  express  definition .   perhaps ,   ( and  to  her  credit , )   it  could  be  because  touko  has  never  penned  such  a  baseless  protagonist  that  she  struggles  to  append  an  appropriate  adjective  to  komaru .   her  fingers  itch ;  she's  not  written ,  properly ,  in  months .   she  must  be  losing  her  touch .

touches  that  linger  long  after  the  initial  bristle  of  skin  against  skin .   casual  touches  that  are ,  at  the  time ,  overlooked  in  favor  of  surviving ,  but  later  tear  the  flesh  from  touko's  palms  as  she  considers  them .   komaru's  hands  are  rough ,  marred  by  tribulation ;  but  they  are  always  outstretched ,  always  wanting ,  always  seizing  touko's  own  at  the  penultimate  second  of  an  opportune  moment .   komaru  had  reached  for  her  amid  the  deluges  of  gunfire ,  the  onslaught  of  despair - crazed  assailants ,  and  it  had  only  meant  something  hours  later .

touko  attributes  this  to  the  absence  of  her  master ;  of  the  thunder  between  her  lungs .   she  feels  this  absence  of  companionship  so  profoundly  that  she  wonders  how  despondent  she  must  truly  have  been  for  all  her  years  prior .   and  this  makes  no  sense :   because  komaru  is  RIGHT  HERE ,  beside  her .   behind  her .  always  within  arms  reach  —  she  is  everywhere .   and ,  in  the  wake  of  everything ,   as  touko  cards  her  fingers  through  komaru's  hair ,  and  komaru  drives  her  face  into  touko's  shoulder ,  touko  is  still  at  a  loss  for  words .

the  one  she  learns ,  and  settles  quite  neatly  into ,  is  ' together . '   she  and  komaru  are  two  tandem  pieces ;  they  are  no  longer  mutually  exclusive  after  all  of  a  day .   touko ,  who  has  never  really  been  included  in  anything ,  finds  immeasurable  solace  in  this  term .   ' we '  are  going  to  hold  the  sky  in  place ;  ' we '  are  finding  hope  at  the  fraying  edges  of  this  fitful  world .   together ,  they  are  unstoppable .   together ,  they  are  impenetrable .   ' together '  is  not  a  word  that  either  of  them  are  used  to ,  but  it  becomes  touko's  favorite .

because  she  realizes  amidst  the  chaos ,  quite  by  accident ,  that  she  does  not  want  to  lose  komaru  naegi .   ever .   touko  cannot  lose  this :  the  tentative  affirmations  passed  between  them  like  clean  air .   the  prevailing  truth  in  a  sea  of  lies  that  has  driven  touko  from  one  madness  into  another .   ( a  RINGING  in  her  ears :  even  in  the  static  of  her  fugue  state ,  she  remembers  komaru's  hand  latch  securely  onto  genocider's  arm .   the  trust  /  the  tears  /  the  TORMENT  of  it  all ... )   the  importance  of  this  moment  lingers  in  her  heart  as  she  finds  herself  again .

the  decision  to  stay  with  komaru  was  so  natural  that  it  mightn't  have  been  borne  of  conscious  effort .   touko  is  still  trying  to  find  the  words  —  the  only  thing  she  knows  —  to  lend  illumination  to  what  she  feels  for  komaru .   they're  eminent  on  her  tongue  —  until  she  loses  them  around  shadowed  corners ,  or  under  the  ruins  of  this  fallen  city .   hopeless  until  she  feels  komaru  at  her  side  /  hand  in  hand  /  back  to  back ,  and  the  inexplicable  lightness  in  touko's  chest  prevails .   for  all  her  works  &  accolades ,  how  strange  this  expression  feels  —

it  feels  unreal ,  at  times .   touko  fears  that  this  is  another  of  her  delusions ,  and  that  one  day  she'll  wake  to  the  peeling  wallpaper  of  her  room ,   ( more  her  prison  than  respite , )  and  the  woman  she  has  become  will  exist  only  on  paper .   but  komaru  is  real .   THIS  is  real .   and  when  touko  reaches  for  her  —  she  doesn't  burn .   she  doesn't  bleed .   and  komaru  doesn't  crumble  to  ash  &  waste  between  her  fingers ,  and  all  of  this  is  really ,  really  real .   fear  does  not  stop  touko  from  holding  on .   komaru  keeps  her  from  letting  go .

touko  fukawa  is  twenty  years  old  when  she  relearns  the  definition  of  love :  when  she  falls  in  love   ( not  with  people , but )  with  komaru ,  and  komaru  only .   she  falls  for  her  smile ;  its  unyielding  brightness  in  touko's  dark .   she  falls  for  her  embrace ,  which  takes  touko's  grey  world  and  propels  it  into  violent  technicolor .   she  falls  in  love  with  the  picture  of  innocence ,  and  how  it  lifts  the  burden  and  decay  from  their  shoulders .   she  falls  for  the  maddening  simplicity  of  her ;  even  for  her  absurd  taste  in  reading  material .

she  falls  for  this  new  concept  of  reality  that's  tinged  with  fiction .   it  holds  promise :  that  same  promise  that  comes  from  long  evenings  of  aching  joints  and  mottled  lighting  that  pursues  the  realization  of  the  kindest  places  within  touko's  mind .   komaru  feels  like  a  story  —  she  rarely  makes  sense ,  but  she  is  evocative  of  the  solitary  paradise  in  prose .   only  this  time ,  when  touko  folds  the  cover  of  this  story  over  its  dog - eared  pages ,  it  follows  her  past  the  afterglow  of  a  happy  ending .   komaru  is ,  quite  simply ,  her  hope .

she  falls  for  fragments :  cold  and  creeping ,  as  autumn  bows  to  winter's  whims .   it's  guided  steps  into  touko's  first  real  ' friendship , '  she  thinks ,  as  she  marvels  at  the  sun - steeped  renewal  of  each  day  with  komaru .   flowers  do  not  bloom  in  carnage ,  but  it  doesn't  stop  them  from  trying :  every  touch ,  every  word ,  every  abiding  gaze ,  become  parts  of  her .   parts  of  this  story  that  touko  will  never  surcease .   the  sum  of  komaru's  parts  is  inexplicably ,  inexorably  whole  —  and  it's  EVERYTHING .

[emilypatriciafiorello]

Activity Task| Questionnaire

What’s your full name?

Emily Patricia Fiorello

2. What name did your parents have picked out for you if you’d been born the opposite sex?

This was a big disagreement between my parents, since my dad is Italian and my mom is Irish. He wanted to name me Angelo and she wanted to name me Patrick.

3. What’s your biggest regret?

My biggest regret has to be how selfish I was when I was younger. Until two years ago, I really only thought about myself. That was definitely because I was raised with privilege.

4. What’s your happiest memory?

The summer after my junior year of undergrad, I went to Haiti to help in the reconstruction effort after a big earthquake that happened there. While I was there, I got to know a lot of the local children. Being with them, laughing and telling stories, was definitely one of the happiest times of my life.

5. When you were young, what did you want to be when you grew up? Why?

When I was younger, I wanted to be an interior decorator. I’ve always loved making things beautiful and thought that I wanted to make a career out of it.

6. If you could go back 5 years and tell yourself something, what would it be?

I would tell myself that I’m capable of much more than I thought I was. And to be more considerate of others. Or I would tell myself to travel to Haiti sooner. That might have helped.

7. What are you most looking forward to this year?

I’m looking forward to learning more in my professional life. I can see my education start to wind down, and I’m so excited to get to really work.

8. When do you feel strongest?

I feel the strongest when I’m able to make the people around me happy. I’m really working on my tendency to push my wants onto other people, and seeing progress in that makes me feel proud of myself.

9. Do you believe in karma? Why?

I definitely believe in karma. Time and time again, I’ve noticed that the people that are the kindest are the people to whom the most good things happen.

10. What’s your worst fear?

My worst fear is being buried alive. I accidentally saw Kill Bill when I was too young to understand it, and I ended up seeing the scene in part two in which they bury Uma Thurman. It freaked me out really badly.

11. What’s your biggest secret?

When I was in high school, I used to stuff my bra. I wouldn’t just stuff it, though. I had actually bought removable padding that I would add. I was really self conscious back then.

12. What is your idea of happiness?

My idea of happiness is of having a stable group of people in your life that love you, and pursuing something that you love to do. I think I’m really finding happiness lately.

13. What’s something you’d like to be better at?

I could definitely be better at housework. I’m ashamed to admit that Ottie and I have a cleaning lady come in once every other week because we’re so bad at sharing chores.

14. What do you want to have accomplished in 10 years time?

In ten years, I want to be an established lawyer, a partner at the firm, and married. I also want to have two kids. I tend to set these kind of long term goals for myself and over-focus on them. I’m trying to calm down.

15. Take a moment to think where you are right now. Is there anywhere else you’d rather be? Why?

I honestly don’t think there’s anywhere I’d rather be. I’m in a great little town with a vibrant community, working at a job that’s teaching me a lot, in school for my passion, I have great friends, and a partner that I love dearly. I really need to be more grateful. Thanks for that question and that moment of reflection.

[0trashtalk0]

A List of My Fave Youtubers

At this point, Youtube has become a whole different platform with very specific content. I spend hours on Youtube watching vlogs, challenges, unboxings etc.. There Youtubers are friends I wish I had, basically. It’s a one sided friendship. 

1. Shane Dawson

Shane is on top of my list because I just finished his book ‘It Gets Worse’ and his sense of humour, his book, his personality his entire a being is a ray of sunshine and he is an inspiration. 10/10 would recommend. Also started watching his vids only after he started dating Ryland who is my babe and is at the end of this list because this list is no particular order.

Also would highly recommend Trying Dumb Life Hacks cuz that’s what got me hooked. Shane eating weird shit and trying to burn his house down. Here’s a whole playlist.

2. Alex Wassabi 

Another Youtuber I watch because of their significant other. Honestly didn’t know him before he started dating LaurDiy who is also on this list. Honestly, they’re couple goals. I watch Lauren’s Vlog and Alex’s Vlog and it’s like I was their at their anniversary in Hawaii. I might be a little too invested in them... I follow their dogs on Instagram. But they’re so positive and Alex is so funny and focused and kind :’) If you ain’t smiling, you’re doing it wrong guise!!

3. LaurDiy

So I’ve ben subscribed to LaurDiy for years and she’s always been my fave from the Asian girl squad (which is Remi, Mia, Tiffany + honorary Alisha sometimes). I love all these girls and have had phases with all but Lauren is so cute and her DIYs honestly make sense (not like I’m actually recreating any tbh).I love her DIY challenge series, BRING IT BACK @LAURDIY  Honestly her music videos and stuff is lame but I’m glad she’s living her best life. I think the couple vlogs are hella fun! :D 

4. Meghan Rienks

OMG TIME FOR MY LITERAL QUEEN MEGHAANN. She replied to me on Twitter once. She said and I quote “Hahhahahhahah fuck you” y’know what they say if you can make your girl laugh and she want’s to fuck me wink wink Anyway Meghan’s been my fave since idk she was in highschool? I was in highschool? We the same age. She’s actually a month older than me. Yes, I know her birthday. No, that’s not weird. Anyway, after highschool she went to college, joined a sorority, got bullied? (idk why I put the ? I know she did. We got through it though), dropped out of college, did this one show on AwesomenessTV with Lauren Elizabeth which was pretty funny. got a house, a car, did a TV show (Freakish on Hulu), is in a movie with Ali from PLL and is basically is a real housewife at this point. I have been with her through her whole journey and sent her countless asks on Tumblr @meghanrosette thanks for the acknowledgement

Any Meghan is super funny. She is a “beauty blogger” but like let’s be real everyones watching cuz shes funny and relatable and also gorgeous. Like she’s not useful for actual tips I guess but A+ entertainment. Like honestly one time she went to the VS fashion show and took a pic with Gigi and passed as a model? Unreal She still does fashion/ beauty videos. She bakes. She also does this podcast called Don’t Blame Me and Grace Helbig, my other queen was on the last episode so the fangirl in me is ded rn.  

5. Clevver Style

Honestly, this is my goal. I don’t think this is where the channel was supposed to go. But bitches love trash content. Every video they do is so informative on trends but also so funny. Lily and Joslyn are like the two best friends I never had. Or did but we haven’t talked since that one fight in London... 

Anyway, Beauty Break is my fave show. Idk what else they do except for Lunchy Break which I thought was a joke but now it’s a full blown show?  They should do more of Dirty Laundry tbh.

Meghan is on a lot of episodes of Beauty Break but I love them equally and individually without any bias. A+ Would Recommend 

6. Grace Helbig

I’ve honestly been into Grace since Daily Grace which seems like a decade ago but I don’t think Youtube is that old. Grace, Mamrie and Hanna Hart are the literal Holy Trinity of Youtube. Grace is the funniest imo. I am obsessed with her Fashion reviews for Red Carpets. They are so mean without being mean spirited at all and that’s comedy goals. Out of everyone on this list, no one makes me happier than Grace because she is the funniest. Also she’s not just a youtuber check Dirty30 Movie and Camp Takota! And Not Too Deep!

7. 7. JennxPenn

Jenn’s book “Really Professional Internet Person” is a fucking gem and honestly has so much good advice! Jenn’s always done edgy content but she is supeeerrr funny. She does mostly like viral challenges, she’s even created a few I think. She once let a Postmates guy come into her house and do her makeup?? I think shes hella cool and relatable. I love her style (?) There’s not really much to it but I feel it. I like Jenn. You go Jenn. 

8. Mr. Kate

OMG SHE IS A FUCKING GENIUS. So you know how you start a YouTube video and their voice is annoying so you’re like fuck it I can’t and you go watch something else. Now I’m really sorry Mr. Kate I love you, but her voice is kinda squeaky?? Sorry!! But  stick with her she is AMAZING. She has done EVERYONE’S ROOM! Wait I forgot to mention in my excitement. Mr. Kate is an interior decorator? + artist. She is a fucking genius! Like all your fave Youtubers including but not limited to Superwoman’s room and office, Liza Koshy, MyLifeAsEva, and Meghan, Joslyn, Grace’s office that she shares with Mamrie and Hanna. And literally every other popular Youtuber. She has a few different shows on her channel. All relating to room makeovers. I personally love Omg! We’re Coming Over: Digitally Famous where she does YouTubers houses. Mostly cuz I’m a creep but also because I’m into home decor. Other fun series on her channel are Breaking Beige and Office Goals on the Road!

Also special mention to her husband, Joey. He’s in all of the videos and does all the more manly heavy work. They’re couple goals. Cuuuuteeee.

9. The Sorry Girls

The Sorry Girls are Kelsey and Becky. They do some amazing DIYs. And this is not your average spray paint glue gun DIY. These girls are hardcore. But it’s honestly empowering how they just casually use a fucking saw and build things. Their videos are very original and very aesthetically pleasing. I personally love their Dollar Store DIYs because it’s stuff we can actually find here in India and are still pretty doable. My fave is that they each make a DIY and kinda compete? at whose  better. I just like competitions I guess. I also love their Thrift Flip series!

These girls have honestly inspired me to use a sewing machine and a saw so thanks guys!

10. Ryland Adams

MY BABE. What I love most about Ryland is his editing style. It’s freaking hilarious. But I loved him before he got his own channel. He was on Clevver News.  He did a few different shows on there but I don’t think he’s there anymore? But I could be wrong I don’t know everything but I haven’t seen him in a while. Anyway love the life he’s living with Shane from the top of this list. He’s so cute and funny I wanna be friends with them.

[themillenniumscribe]

Yu-Gi-Oh: Brilliancy (37)

Her name is Clarisa Swansea. She was born in Hong Kong to a wealthy yet loving family, a father, mother, and two older sisters. A competitive beast in women’s lacrosse with a pretty face to match, there was no mistaking that she was striving for greatness far beyond any expectations. But, when one accident took her family along with her mobility, her life took an intriguing turn into the world of chess.

They were walking again, into the future or whatever Kaiba claimed. The landscape shifted from an obsidian covered cliff side into an emerald wood, complete with some familiar dirt pathways. Honestly, Clarisa was starting to notice that this future of Kaiba’s seemed to dwell heavily on the past.

“Is it just me or does it seem like we’ve returned to the same forest as before?” Clarisa was scanning the trees with an inquisitive scowl on her face. She could have sworn that she saw the same dirt path before they found that wooden door.

“It’s not you. It’s the same pattern.” Kaiba confirmed, eyes staring straight ahead.

“Good to know that we’re on the same page…” She mused aloud, keeping pace with the CEO while she noticed that Mokuba lagged behind a pace or two.

“So, just how much of your history do you think we will run into?” Her question was innocent enough but certainly not appreciated. Kaiba ignored her completely but Mokuba shrugged his shoulders.

“If things keep going as they are, you’ll probably get to see most of it…” His head bowed down gently, sinking into himself.

“Any skeletons that I should know about before they come to light?” She tried to make her voice sound jovial but it only seemed to hurt Mokuba even more. Clarisa felt a twang of pity for him. She knew that Kaiba’s tension reflected how raw his nerves were. She didn’t think about how Mokuba might be embarrassed by their history let alone if he also had something to hide.

They had been walking for hours. At least, that’s what it felt like. Clarisa could feel her heart thumping more than usual. She was keeping up with the boys just fine. She did, however, feel a light glisten of sweat starting to form on her skin. Silently, she began to wonder how much longer they would have to travel for another memory to trigger.

“We could rest in there.” Lifting her eyes, Clarisa was surprised that Mokuba pointed out a small wooden cabin in the distance. It was perched ever so lightly on this quaint hill in the middle of the clearing. Had this been anywhere else, Clarisa might have shared some curiosity for the place. This, however, made her more suspicious than anything.

“Are you sure we should be going in?” She murmured tentatively. “I have a feeling some young children tried this once and it ended badly for them.”

“That depends,” Mokuba replied with a smirk. “Was their last name Grimm?”

“I’m too anxious to really enjoy that you caught that.” A smile curled on her lips, strained as it was. It stripped off of her lips when Kaiba reached over and opened the thick oaken doors.

A flash of white danced around them. Black pixels rearranged and, slowly, the interior took shape.

Dark wooden paneling filled the space and deep burgundy carpet covered the floors. There were two large staircases and plenty of doors for the three of them to choose from. It took Clarisa a moment to notice but there were luxury items perched on display but, despite their extravagance, they looked as dreary as everything else. Even the candle lit chandeliers above glowed dimly.

“If Satan had an interior decorator…” She mused aloud, turning her head toward the brothers. Once again, she was met with shock and that impending tension of exposing those raw nerves.

“This…is our home…” Mokuba breathed, the blood draining from his face. Clarisa winced, feeling a twinge of guilt for making her previous remark.

Movement caught her eye. As if on cue, the familiar mini-Kaiba’s walked through the hallways, preceded by a man who looked like a potato and sphinx cat managed to reproduce. He walked sluggishly, allowing for just enough jiggle in his jowls to make Clarisa green around the gills.

“Who on earth is that?” She tried to hide her disgust and did very poorly.

“Hobson,” Kaiba replied sullenly, eyes narrowed. “He was the butler.”

“I guess…if he was good at it…”

“He was good at many things…” The tone that Kaiba’s voice took was disturbing, almost as much as the expression on his face. Clarisa watched his azure eyes burn but, no matter how intense the fire, Kaiba’s face maintained a stony scowl.

“Like what?” Her inquiry was soft, as subdued as she could manage. She didn’t want to rile Kaiba into clam mode. Unfortunately, when he looked her way, he was already there. Instead, he trudged forward, picking up speed at a clipping pace. Mokuba was starting to struggle to keep up and Clarisa had to break into a trot just to maintain the same speed. But, as usual, something caught her eye and she slid to a screeching halt.

“Risa!” Mokuba hissed, motioning for her to follow. “What are you doing? We gotta go!”

She didn’t pay attention, to preoccupied by a crack in the door. Slowly, she tiptoed forward, her eye watching carefully at what was taking place inside.

Something cracked inside, something hard and on flesh. Clarisa only recognized the noise because she had her fair share of whacking people with thin sticks. Peering inside, she could see the young Kaiba, struggling to stay awake and the Sharpe scrotum bouncing a switchblade in his hand. When the young boy’s head fell to a certain depth, the whip would crack just between his shoulder blades.

“You have been adopted by the Kaiba’s and until you meet Gozaburo’s level, there is no time for sleep.” Even his voice was tortuous.

“I’ll show you sleep…” Clarisa grumbled, pressing her hand against the door. She didn’t get the chance for a grand entrance. Before she could intrude, she was gripped on the arm and dragged away. Kaiba was the culprit.

“Let me guess,” She seethed, glancing back. “He knew just where to hit so as not to leave a mark?”

“That’s what torturers do.” He was matter of fact, the words snapping out of his mouth. He made no attempt to hide his frustration.

“Is that what you meant by ‘many things’?” Silence again. She was starting to wonder if she could train him to be more vocal.

“Wait! Stop!” Her heels planted into the carpet, Kaiba tried to jerk her forward but the blonde was stubborn enough to pull him back. She wriggled out of his grasp, making her way toward another cracked door.

“What are you doing?!” He whispered darkly, running at her heels.

“Seto, what is your vision for the future of the Kaiba Corporation?”

Clarisa recognized that deep voice. It was a familiar memory but she couldn’t place where she had heard it before. Leaning in, she pressed against the door, peeking in just as she had before.

It was a long table, filled to the brim with exquisite dishes. Gozaburo sat at the head with Mokuba and Seto clear on the other. They were facing each other, Mokuba’s back to her but she could read everything on the young Seto’s face. He sat up straight, hands folded in his lap and a strength that Clarisa couldn’t help admiring.

“I want to build Kaiba Land.” He replied confidently.

“Kaiba Land?” Gozaburo repeated.

“My brother wants to build a game paradise for underpriveleged children like us.” Mokuba’s voice was so much squeakier as a child but his support for his brother never wavered. He was just as bold as he was today.

“Game paradise, you say?” He didn’t even try to hide the distaste. “How ridiculous! It’s too boring for words! Are you telling me this is your dream?”

“You asked, idiot…” Clarisa thought silently, brow furrowing.

“Games are not boring!” The young Seto stood up, his tiny hand balled in a fist. “Games purify our souls and leave room for new development that challenges the mind! They are the products of human wisdom!”

Clarisa was stunned, speechless by the young Seto’s speech. He had such a profound view of games, full of such hope and light. She was reminded of Lukas for a brief moment but didn’t have time to dwell. Gozaburo was not nearly as moved and had plenty more to say.

“The reason I want you to inherit Kaiba Corporation is so you become a ruthless dictator of the world!” He barked. Snapping his fingers, he ordered his butler to remove any games and toys from both brothers’ possessions. He rose from his seat, scowling at the young boy across the room.

“Until you understand what it means to be a ruthless dictator, I won’t let you touch games or toys!”

Clarisa watched as Gozaburo’s command was put to use. Every game the boys brought with them was taken away, leaving only their meager essentials. Fortunately, Mokuba was sly enough to give Seto a set of cards through a book. They were not the best but they were something and it brought a smile to his young face. It brought a glimmer of happiness in Clarisa’s mind but one question remained.

“I’m starting to understand why you hated Gozaburo so much…” She began. “But, I still don’t understand. You were so strong and full of light. How did you end up_?”

He wasn’t next to her. She wasn’t in the house either. A vast blackness enveloped the space and Clarisa found herself utterly alone. Her blood ran cold.

“Kaiba?” She called out. “Mr. Kaiba?”

No one answered. She could feel tingles of panic rising in her chest.

“Seto!” Whipping her head to the left, relief filled her to the bones when she saw the boys standing off in the distance. How they got so far, she didn’t know but it made no difference to her. As long as they were close, she would be fine.

She approached them, jogging lightly when she noticed the fading figure of a young boy. He looked a lot like the young Seto. Perhaps the holograms were registering them now?

“Having a talk with ourselves?” She huffed out, a smile curling on her lips. Her expression dimmed when she noticed the grave expressions on the Kaiba brothers.

“That was Noah, Risa…” Mokuba mumbled.

“What did he want?”

“He wants…” The younger brother swallowed hard. “He wants Seto to pay for killing Gozaburo.”

“Did you?” Clarisa focused all of her attention on Kaiba, the CEO barely registering that she was there. She didn’t let him off the hook, however, leaning forward in an attempt to lock eyes with him. It worked but he was once again as quiet as ever.

They stared at one another for a solid minute, neither one daring to make the first move. Clarisa’s reluctance was from attempting to read the ice king while his was anticipating a less than favorable reaction. Clarisa’s sigh signaled the end of the match and Kaiba began walking away, turning his back on where Noah stood.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I would have gone for him too...” Clarisa murmured under her breath, certain that Kaiba didn’t hear her. What she didn’t notice was the slight pause in his gait and tiniest bit of tension releasing from his body.

[blastron01]

Ascendance of a Bookworm – 048

Maine Collapses

It's been three days since Lutz's older brothers promised to make hairpin parts for me. Today is the day I go to pick them up.

During those three days, I didn't leave the house at all, spending my hours working on making tiny little flowers. Since the devouring fever has been very active lately, roiling about in my body, I've not been feeling particularly good, so I haven't really wanted to go outside at all. I've even been attacked by the fever in the middle of the night, leaving me exhausted and sluggish the next morning. Honestly, since I have no idea when or where the devouring is going to strike next, I'm feeling kind of uneasy about how I could collapse at any time.

While secluded at home for the last few days, I managed to complete enough flowers for two hairpins. If you include the one I made before, I was only able to make three out of the whole twenty. All the rest were made by my mother and Tory. The sheer difference in speed is pretty depressing. The two of them, as before, seemed to race against each other while making their flowers. Tory's speed has improved immensely by now, and between the two of them they made twelve more pins' worth of flowers over the last three days. Right now, they've split up the work to get the last pin finished.

"I'm gonna go over to Lutz's house now. I gotta go pick up the pins and give them their money," I say. "Have fun," say the two of them, in monotone unison. Neither of them even look up, they're so engaged in their work.

I put fifteen medium copper coins in a small coin purse and walk out the front door. I head down the stairs, exit the building, walk through the water well plaza, start climbing the stairs of the building that's basically in the front.

Lutz's home is on the sixth floor, but they've rented two floors' worth of space. There's lots of stairways, and going up and down them is really difficult, but the interior is spacious. Even though there's four boys living there, it's not actually that cramped. Lutz, however, says that it's full of all sorts of craftsman's tools and there's a lot of space set aside for work, so it's not really as big as it sounds.

I knock on the door and announce myself, and after a moment the door swings open with a creak, revealing Auntie Carla.

"Good afternoon, Auntie Carla. Are the boys home? I'm here to pick up some handiwork that I asked them to make for me." "They are!" she says, beaming. "They've been waiting restlessly for you all morning."

Once she says that, her face darkens a bit. She furtively glances around a bit, then leans in, speaking in a lower voice.

"...Hey, Maine. Lutz is really serious about being a merchant, isn't he? He's being very stubborn, so the mood in the house has been pretty bad lately. Even still, he doesn't look like he's going to back down. Wanting to be a merchant isn't something to tear up a family over! Don't you agree?"

I'd already heard from Lutz that things weren't going particularly well for him at home, but this looks more serious than I'd thought. He may be worried, but Lutz does not back down. After all, he's already made up his mind that he's going to be a live-in apprentice if he has to.

"I don't think I can answer that, Auntie Carla. Lutz is the one who'd make that decision, you know?"

An outsider like me butting into a parent-child dispute is only going to sow more discord, so I just tilt my head doubtfully to one side. Carla, having not gotten the agreement she was looking for, frowns sourly, her lips pointed.

"Well, I guess you're right. If I'd had a girl, she'd do what her parents said, but boys just don't listen to anything. They're so disagreeable."

Well, as for me, I have no real intention of living my life like my parents want me to. I'll just keep that to myself, though.

Auntie Carla's grumblings show no signs of stopping. Her sons, very much used to how troublesome their mother's ranting could be, stay out of sight lest they get dragged up into it, and Auntie Carla hasn't yet invited me inside. I should just politely agree with her and head her off before she gets really going. Unlike the older ladies who are more than willing to have long conversations outside by the water well as snow piles up around them, I have no particular desire to stand here and chat in this freezing entranceway.

"It must be rough living with four boys, Auntie Carla." "It is! And they don't even appreciate how hard they're making it on me. You know, the other day..."

Ahh... crap. I have a feeling I'm going to be out here forever.

At about the time I start to wonder if I should just start over entirely, I hear Lutz call out from within the house.

"Hey, Mom. Didn't Maine come to pick up that handiwork? She needs to get it before the snow starts falling, so I think she's in a bit of a rush. It's also really easy for her to get sick, so let her in, please!" "Ah, that's right. Come in, Maine." "Thank you," I say.

Lutz and I exchange glances. You seriously saved me, thank you so much, I say silently. Sorry my mom talks so much, he replies.

Finally, I'm able to enter Lutz's house. It really is warm in here compared to outside.

"Lutz," I say, "did your big brothers finish their work? And did you make sure to practice your math?" "Yeah." "...Maine, are you perhaps the one teaching Lutz how to do math?"

Lutz's mother, seemingly having listened in on our conversation, asks that question in a somewhat pointed voice. There's an undercurrent of "don't make my life any more difficult" buried in there, which I completely disregard, instead turning to smile up at her.

"Yeah! I've been helping with math at the gates." "Ahh, you've been helping your father, then? That's so wonderful. It would be really nice, though, if Lutz would help his father out with his own apprenticeship."

In this world, a young girl generally helps her parents out with their work until she gets married to a boy that her parents introduce her to. Then, she helps her husband with his work. If she were in a rural farming area, she'd be helping out with farm work, so she'd marry a farmer.

In other words, while I, the daughter of a soldier, have been studying various things, others have had the expectation that it's so that I can eventually become the kind of wife that can support a soldier. It is actually really difficult to be the wife of a soldier, with their irregular work hours and such, and whether or not she's able to adapt to it depends largely on if there are other soldiers in the family and if she already understands what the job entails.

I wonder if Carla had heard that my father is letting me help him out at the gate to help me with my future prospects? Unfortunately, I'm rocketing along the path towards my merchant's apprenticeship, and have not even the tiniest shred of an intention of becoming the wife of a soldier.

As I head deeper into the house, Lutz's brothers are lying in wait, gripping hairpins in each hand. When I get close, they all simultaneously stand up, shoving their fistfuls of pins in my face.

"Hey, Maine! Take a look." "I got these done in no time at all." "I think these are perfect!" "W-whoa!" I stammer. "Line up! By year!"

Having a whole bunch of sharpened hairpins thrust into my face is actually terrifying. I wave my hands frantically as I dodge out of the way. In a flash, the three of them line up in order of age, just like I asked. One by one, I examine each hairpin and deliver them their pay. Not a single step had been skipped. The smooth finish and expert craftsmanship causes a smile to float across my face.

"All three of you did way better than Lutz did! You really are professionals. Tory and Mommy are better than me at what I'm making at home, too. Hey, guys! Do you think I could ask you to help me with my handiwork this winter, too? I'd have to wait to pay you until the spring, but the pay would be the same." "Yeah, leave it to us!"

The three older brothers agreed to the work with big smiles. Thanks to the fact that they're going to be doing the actual handiwork, Lutz should be free to focus all of his efforts on studying.

"Lutz, did you do the calculations? How much is it?" "Six thousand leon, so six large copper coins. ...Is that right?"

This time, Lutz's older brothers made fifteen pin parts. Since each one makes him four medium copper coins, that's six large copper coins in total. He's making a killing just off of the commission.

"Yep, that's perfect! Let's keep practicing calculations like that. I'm gonna go bring these home now and finish them up; how does going to Mister Benno's shop tomorrow sound?" "Sounds good to me."

By the time I gather up the pins and return home, the final decorations have been completed. I work with Tory and my mother to sew everything together and finish off each pin.

"I'm gonna go bring these to the shop tomorrow and bring back the rest of the money, okay? You guys were so fast, I couldn't keep up with the amount of money I already had."

When I'd originally asked Benno to give me some money in advance, I thought that we'd wind up delivering only ten hairpins. I'm actually kind of shocked that we managed to make twenty. Both my mother's raw determination in the face of money and Tory's massive speed increase were far beyond anything I could have imagined.

"Heh heh, I'm getting pretty fast, aren't I?" "Yeah, Tory, you're amazing! We'll be able to make so many of these this winter." "Right! Let's work hard and make a bunch!"

I must tip my hat towards Tory, who is walking steadily along the road of becoming a sewing beauty. I simply cannot compare.

The next day, Lutz and I head for Benno's shop, completed hairpins in hand. As we walk along the cobbled road, Lutz asks me a question.

"Hey, Maine. Do you have any other things you can to sell?" "Huh?" "Master Benno told me that if you wanted to do anything about the devouring, you need a lot of money. When we start selling paper in the spring, it looks like we'll sell it for a really high price, though, but if you had anything else, then... If you think of something, I'll make it, after all."

Seeing the honest worry in his face, I start to think if there's any new products I could come up with to do something about the devouring.

"Hmmm, let me thing. All the things I've come up with until now that can earn a lot of money are things aimed at wealthy people, huh."

It's obvious that everyday necessities are goods that require spending constant amounts of money. Even the hairpins, though, if we increase the quality of the thread and change the designs, the pricing will be way different, and paper made from the very rare tronbay will be more expensive as well. As such, if we want to make a ton of money, what we need are products that the upper class are likely to want.

"I don't really have a clue what wealthy people want, though. Rinsham, hairpins, and paper are all things that used to be all around me." "Man, your world must have been amazing..."

Lutz, who's fully aware of the fact that I have memories that aren't just Maine's, is not only not creeped out by it, but is actually interested. So, when it's just the two of us talking, that's the only time I don't have to keep my memories of Japan purposefully concealed.

As I've only become more and more nostalgic about it, I haven't been able to say anything but the most amazing things about it, so I think the image Lutz has of Japan is that of an amazing utopia. To me, it certainly was a utopia compared to here, if only because of the proliferation of bookstores and libraries. Even now, if I could, I'd go back in a heartbeat.

"I guess I could try taking hints from 'dollar stores' and think of things that could improve people's daily lives? Maybe improving soap, or making more stylish candles? I made some herb candles last year, but I guess those might be a good idea." "Herb candles?" asks Lutz, tilting his head to one side and frowning. "During last year's winter preparations, the candles were extremely smelling, so I added herbs to some of them to try to eliminate the smell. I found some that smelled good, but I also found a bunch that synergized terribly and smelled awful, too. My mom told me not to mess with things I shouldn't and forbade me from making them this year."

While I was laying in bed, I'd said that I wanted to make herb candles, but my mother immediately refused and strictly forbade me from leaving my bed. That was absolutely not just out of concern for my health, but probably much more that she was worried about the candles I'd make.

"Man, you get in trouble a lot." "Urgh... Trial and error is an indispensable part of making things! For some other ideas, my baskets and lacework were pretty popular, so I wonder if I could make some other kind of 'arts and crafts'... wait, no, 'arts and crafts' aren't usually very useful at all."

Even while casually dismissing my own idea, I dig through my memories from my Urano period for any useful sort of arts and crafts.

"Hmmm, 'bead accessories' won't work since I don't have any 'beads', making art out of pressed flowers might technically work but I don't think we could actually sell those, we can't do 'tole painting'_1 since we don't have paints... what do we do?" "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. In the end, what _can we do?"

No matter what we make, we'll need to start by making all the tools we'll need for that, just like we did with the paper. When I think about that, all of my will to actually do any of that instantly vanishes. Honestly, if it's not going to be something that can immediately improve my own life, I actually can't summon up very much energy.

"Ummm, I think my biggest problem right now for coming up with new products is that I really can't get fired up for making a bunch of tools for things I won't actually use in my own life." "You have to!" yells Lutz. "Do you want to die?!" "It's not that I'm not worried, it's just that I'm not very enthusiastic for making things I don't think are necessities, like, next up is a book..." "Hey, wait! You're the only one actually saying that if you yourself don't think something's essential then nobody else is going to buy it! Think of something we can sell!"

Lutz is a little teary-eyed, maybe from getting a bit too agitated. I pat him gently on the shoulder.

"Lutz, you should calm down a bit." "You're the one making me agitated!" "Yeah, you're right. Sorry, sorry."

As I soothe Lutz's nerves, somebody suddenly grabs my head from above.

"Aaah!" "Just what are the two of you talking about in the middle of the street? People are laughing; was that supposed to be funny?"

When I hear the familiar sound of Benno's voice, I look around my surroundings. Just as he says, I can hear people chuckling as they watch the two of us with small smiles. My face goes red with embarrassment, and I channel my urge to lash out angrily into a fierce glare up at him.

"Mister Benno, why might you be here?" "I'm on my way back from the workshops. What about you two?" "We finished the hairpins and were going to deliver them to you." "Ah, really? Then, let's go."

Benno promptly picks me up and starts walking off at an impatiently brisk pace. From over his shoulder, I see Lutz having to jog to keep up.

He doesn't even put me down once we enter the shop, instead carrying me to his office and setting me next to our usual table. I climb up into a chair, then pull the hairpins from my tote bag, lining them up on the table in front of me.

"Counting the ones we delivered before, this makes a total of twenty," I say. "Please look them over." "...Great, now I can sell hairpins, too. The baptismal ceremony is next Earth Day, so this is pretty urgent."

Since there's nobody in my house with any connection with this season's baptismal ceremony, I don't particularly care about the details, so I nod politely without paying much attention to what he was actually saying. Then, I realize there was a new vocabulary word I hadn't heard before.

"...Hey, Lutz. What's Earth Day?" "What?! What are you saying... Earth Day is... Earth Day, right?"

Since it seems that Lutz can't actually explain it, he passes the buck on to Benno. Benno sighs, then starts explaining it to me.

"They're the names of the days that constantly cycle around. Water Day, Sprout Day, Fire Day, Leaf Day, Wind Day, Fruit Day, and Earth Day, you know?"

Huh? "You know," he says, but I don't actually now. This is literally the first time I'm hearing it. Are these the days of the week?

"Spring is the season of water, when the snow melts and the sprouts start to grow. Summer is the season of fire, when the sun is the closest and the leaves are growing. Autumn is the season of wind, when the cold air is blowing and the fruits are ripe. Winter is the season of earth, when all life is sleeping. That's why Earth Day is the day of rest, when we close the shop.

Earth Day is basically Sunday then. Got it. Since my mother had days off on fixed intervals, I knew that the concept of days in a week technically existed, but since there's no calendars in my home, my dad has an irregular schedule, and nobody ever actually mentioned any of the days by name, so I just didn't know them. So, the days of the week have names? Perfect.

"Huh," says Lutz, "I didn't know that. I knew what the names were, but I didn't know what they meant." "That kind of discussion happens around baptism time. The baptismal ceremonies for each season happen on the first day of that season, so the winter ceremony is on Earth Day." "Ah, I see."

Since there's neither garbage pickup days nor any calendars, the average working person, in their day-to-day lives, doesn't need to know about any other day besides their weekly day off. If the subject isn't specifically brought up at all, you can live your life without needing to think about it.

Even when making arrangements with people, we haven't needed to use anything besides saying how many days in the future it'll be. Perhaps that's preferred over the days of the week because it's easier for both parties to understand? From what Benno's saying, this seems like it's got primarily religious significance. Learning more about this subject makes me kind of uncomfortable, though, so I think it shouldn't be a problem if I just leave it at that for now.

"That's enough about the names of days. How about we finish settling this account?" "Sure, it's not like it's particularly useful information, ordinarily."

We finalize the transaction. I take the money I owe Tory and my mother in medium copper coins, which I put in my coin purse, which then goes back in my tote bag. As for the rest of the money, I touch my card to Benno's to add it to my savings.

"There's one more thing I'd like to talk to you about."

As I was packing up to leave, since our business was finished and I didn't want to get in the way of Benno's work, he grabs my arm to stop me.

"Did you come up with any new product ideas? That's what you were talking about on the way here, right?"

I have no idea for just how long he'd been listening to our conversation, but judging from the fact that his eyes are brimming with expectation, I see that it was him who kindled Lutz's sudden passion in coming up with new ideas.

...Well, I do need the money, so it's not like it's that big of a problem.

For the last few days, the devouring fever has been steadily growing more restless, and pinning it down has taken longer and been more exhausting each time. To be perfectly honest, I can't be sure my body will last long enough for me to actually save up enough money. There's no actual reason for me to openly say something so extremely pessimistic, so I shrug lightly shrug and decide to play along.

"Mister Benno, can you think of any sorts of things that would sell for a lot of money? I think that if you want to make a lot of money, you need to sell something unusual or an expensive consumable item to the upper class." "Sure, that's a good start," he says, nodding, with a hint of a wry smile. "If I'm selling something unusual, though," I continue, "then it loses its meaning once everyone has it and it stops being unusual, but if someone uses a consumable item, that means they have to buy it again, so that's something you can make money off of forever. ...Now that I think about it, about the rinsham, you're probably making a lot of money off of that, aren't you?" "Yeah, you could say that."

All of the profits from the rinsham are exclusively Benno's, so he says that with a broad, self-assured smile. Incidentally, the high-quality rinsham should be done as well, so he should be starting to sell it soon. If I can think of something like rinsham, I think it'll earn quite a bit of money.

"My gut feeling is that I should go with more beauty products after all, maybe? You can't underestimate the passion of a beauty-conscious woman, you know."

Cosmetics are expensive. Even though they're expensive, there are many women out there searching for products that suit them and will spend unreservedly on something that might make them a little more beautiful. I think that the nobility and upper class especially will be willing to shell out for effective products. Benno, perhaps having exactly the same idea I am, looks at me with glittering eyes, leaning forward across the table with anticipation.

"What are you thinking?" "Ummm... personally, I want a high-quality, good smelling soap. After that, since a lot of these are used during the winter, I think candles that have a variety of different scents pretty popular, maybe? I feel like the herb candles I made last week would make a decent product. After that, this is something that I don't need right now, but I think there would be solid demand for some kind of facial lotion."

As things come to mind, I count them off on my fingers, and soon I'm able to list off a few things that might be decent products to sell. Lutz's eyes are shining too, now, as he looks eagerly at me.

"Hey, Maine," he says, "do you know how to make all those things?" "Ummm, I know enough to get started. It's like the paper, getting the materials and the tools is going to be a big effort, and there's going to be a lot of trial and error in order to get the fine details down..." "Alright, give it a shot!" says Benno, grinning broadly as he points right at me. This is the face of a merchant running profit calculations in his head.

I mumble something to myself about counting chickens before they hatch, reaching up to rub at my temple.

"Mister Benno," I sigh, "it's really easy to say 'give it a shot', but that's going to be all the way in the spring, and I don't even know if I'll even be able to leave the house then... wha?!"

Honestly, will I be able to hold out until spring? That's a risk, right? The instant the thoughts form in my head, the tight seal within me blasts wide open and the white-hot fever of the devouring surges out. It burns within me like a blazing pillar of fire. I can't surround it and push it back away like usual, and in my brief moments of panicked confusion it roars out, consuming my entire body.

"Oi, Maine!" yells Lutz, noticing this sudden disaster. He stands up, his expression changing in an instant.

I find myself unable to put any real strength into my limbs, and I start to sway dangerously.

With my body burning up from a fever that can't be pushed away, I'm aware that I'm in the process of falling from my chair, but I can't manage to stop myself.

It's only the fact that my field of view suddenly changes that makes me realize I've hit the ground. Even though I hit the ground with a heavy thud, the heat raging within my body far surpasses the pain of the impact, and I don't feel it at all. My eyes, somehow still open, see two sets of feet rush up to me through the thick carpet.

"Maine, are you okay?!"

Lutz grabs my arms to shake me. He instantly lets go, surprised by the heat, but grabs on even tighter. Benno turns around to face the door, not wasting a moment before ringing the bell to call Mark.

"Shit!" he yells. "Mark, get her to the old man's right now!" "Hey!" yells Lutz. "Didn't you say you were going to make a book?! Didn't you say you can't lose yet?! Maine!! Keep it toget..." "Mark, ...urry... ...e prepare..."

Their shouts gradually fade into the distance until I have no idea what they're saying anymore. Then, with a snap, I lose consciousness.

Translator's notes for this chapter:

1. Tole painting is a kind of folk art that decorates wooden utensils and other objects.

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