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bloodynereid · 2 months

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Those Sunlit Kisses

part 2 here ! part 3 here! and part 4 here!

pairing: robert 'rosie' rosenthal x oc (lucy everett)

tw: mentions of war, alcohol drinking, death, mentions of nazis and hitler, domestic fluff, flirting, kissing, angsty ending-ish

description: a young man and woman meet while they're on a forced break and end up spending a weekend together.

a/n: so... this fic has sort of invaded my life these last few days and it's longer than i thought it would be (12k is insane). i've sort of become attached to it in a weird way ??? idk when you write something as a coping mechanism it sticks with you. i sort of have a plan for how this universe will work so there will probably be a few little fics that happen within it, look out for those! also this was lowkey inspired by before sunrise (haven't watched it but i've seen enough edits) and since we know real rosie fell in love and married his wife within like 3 days this is hopefully not all that ooc. ANYWAYS i hope you enjoy this and pls let me know your thoughts or if you want to send in any asks about lucy they are all welcome in my inbox! OH and this isn't about the real rosie, just the fictional character portrayed by nate mann (*swoon*). and to cut off this insanely long author's note, thank you for reading <333

Rosie rested his head against the cool window, the train was hot. It was almost too hot. How Britain had turned from a pea soup to a tropical country is beyond him. He had been forced to take leave… again. So he booked a little place by the beach, far away from basically everything and he felt tentatively excited.

The thin pages of The Great Gatsby turned in his hands, it almost felt too sticky to read but he hadn’t brought anything else with him, and he didn’t feel content by just looking out of the window.

Rosie didn’t like to take breaks but he knew he needed one after the last mission. His new crew was almost too different. He never faulted anyone for not reuping but it was still strange. So after another successful ten missions he was sent off. At least he wasn’t sent to the Flak House again.

The train finally ambled to a stop and Rosie caught a glimpse of the town name, this was his stop. Quickly grabbing the sparse luggage he had brought with him, Rosie walked off the train and onto the tiny platform. The loud whistle made him jump as the train started to move away.

At least he was finally here.

Lucy was daydreaming again. The taste of pencil filled her mouth as she nervously bit down on the wood. She was feeling better, better than she had in a while but she still felt like she was missing, well, everything.

She had just spent the past few weeks researching and slaving over an article on Hitler’s propaganda and it was a good article. Maybe even a great one, but the years spent working on articles about that vile monster were taking their toll on her.

Lucy could distinctly remember when her editor called her into his office after she had snapped at one of the top correspondents who made a comment about women belonging in the kitchen.

“I can’t have this anymore. Do you understand what I’m risking by even having a woman on my team? You may be good, but you’re not that good. Now take a damn break before I have to bar you from this bloody office!”

She understood that it was for her own good but his words stung. It irked her that a man was making her take a break when he would let any of her male counterparts strut around doing whatever they pleased and yelling at secretaries.

So Lucy booked a ticket and left on the afternoon train headed for her hometown. A place almost completely untouched by war… at least for now. She had spent the first few days in bed, trying to recover from the complete exhaustion that five years of war had wrought on her. Lucy also spent that time remembering.

Her parents had died a few months before Hitler invaded Poland. They passed away within weeks of each other in the same house that Lucy was in now. She was almost glad that they didn’t have to experience another war, even if she missed them more than she could handle sometimes.

Her father had risen through the ranks in the Great War, eventually becoming a Colonel and earning a few medals for his service. Lucy’s mother was a singer, she had met and fallen in love with John Everett during one of her performances when she caught his eye from across the room. Diana Everett always insisted it was love at first sight.

They were loving parents and did what they could to make Lucy’s childhood a happy one. Always aiding her in any of her hobbies, and allowing her to pursue her dream of becoming a journalist, even at a time when women were expected to go into gentler trades.

Lucy’s father was the one to die first, he had had a bad cough when Lucy first left for London and that quickly evolved into something worse. Lucy was able to make it back for the funeral and she spent the next few weeks watching as her mother became a shell of herself. One day she just found her mother lying in bed clutching a photo of her late husband and no longer breathing.

The doctors said she died of a heart attack but Lucy knew it was from a broken heart. The entire experience nearly shattered Lucy, she barely cried at either funeral and threw herself into her work, slowly getting more and more recognition for her radical articles informing the British people about the Nazis and Hitler.

But during those first few days at her childhood home, Lucy finally allowed herself to crack. She spent hours writing in her personal diary and crying more tears than she thought possible. Until Friday, when she finally made the decision to pull herself together, she still felt lost but at least she was writing something other than distressing poetry.

So now Lucy sat at her desk, the end of a pencil resting on her lips and the start of a rough outline of a story in front of her. It was a new day.

The smell of the sea filled Rosie’s senses, it felt strange to be walking through a town that looked normal, with no gaping wounds left by bombings. It gave him a renewed sense of duty, places like this needed to be kept safe from the monsters.

He had rented a little room in a B&B ten minutes from the beach. It was nestled between two colorful houses, one painted light green and the other white with a wash of blue. He overheard the sounds of jazz echoing from the blue one, and the soft tones of a woman singing along.

Rosie’s face broke out into a smile and he started humming before looking back at the B&B and heading into the cozy atmosphere. An old woman with a cheerful smile greeted him and took one look at his uniform before upgrading him to one of the larger rooms. He thanked her profusely before heading up the creaking staircase and depositing his luggage onto the quilt-covered bed.

After a few hours of work on the short story, Lucy needed a break and the outside was calling to her. Boiling some water in her favorite kettle, she put on a record and started to hum and eventually sing to one of her mum’s favorite songs.

Once the water was boiled, Lucy carefully went through the motions of pouring it over the Earl Gray leaves in the teapot and letting it steep for a while before straining it into a cup and pouring a splash of milk over it. All the while singing just like her mother used to do when she prepared tea for her.

Armed with a book and a steaming cup of tea, Lucy opened the front door of the house and sat on the porch swing. Carefully placing the cup on the side table and opening up the first pages of her book, Lucy looked around at the front garden. She could almost hear the sounds of joyful laughter and screams from her childhood when she used to play with the neighborhood kids on that very lawn.

With her bare feet up on the porch swing and the milky goodness of tea in her mouth, Lucy started to read the first pages of The Great Gatsby, and settled in for a book she had been waiting too long to read.

Rosie had changed into his civies before grabbing a spare towel and his book. He had to stop the owner for directions to the beach but other than that he was excited to see the ocean, and experience the sun for the first time in a long while.

As he headed down the street he was surprised to find a woman sitting on the porch of the blue house he had seen earlier. Her blonde hair was curled around her face and she was wearing an outfit similar to his own - a blue button down shirt and loose black pants. In her hands was a copy of a book that was identical to one he held in his hand.

All Rosie could think about was that she was beautiful. He was openly gaping in the middle of a sidewalk because a woman he didn’t even know had completely enraptured him. Shaking himself out of his reverie after he realized just how long he had been staring at her, he was almost tempted to say something, anything. Just to have her look at him.

He just couldn’t get his mouth to form the words. Rosie had always been a shy person, especially as a kid but it seemed like all those years of shyness were finally catching up to him. So instead of saying anything, Rosie just turned and walked over to the beach. His knuckles clenched around his own copy of The Great Gatsby, imagining the ways that he could approach the beautiful woman of the blue house and how the conversation would go.

Maybe he could ask her about the book, or the music streaming out of her window. Maybe he could ask her out to dinner or… suddenly Rosie’s thought process stopped short when he had the awful realization that the woman could be married. He hadn’t even realized he had made it to the beach when the sand crunched under foot and he was thrown off balance. Taking a few moments to steady himself he walked along until he found a sand dune that looked nice enough. All the while thinking of all the ways the blonde beauty could reject him.

Rosie had now convinced himself it would be the worst idea on Earth to even approach her, so he settled onto his blanket and cracked open his book. Allowing for the sun to finally seep into his pores and getting lost in the pages of Gatsby’s own romantic woes.

After all the tea was drunk and Lucy had gotten through quite a bit of The Great Gatsby, she decided to get back to writing. Instead of going inside Lucy quickly grabbed a picnic blanket and spread it out in the front lawn. The outline for her short story was coming along nicely and she needed sun after spending the last five years under a constant cover of smog and rain in London.

She also managed to make a couple of sandwiches to serve as her lunch and spread herself out onto the soft fabric of the blanket. Squinting her eyes in the sun she started to elaborate a bit more on the brother in her story, ruminating about how she would have loved to have siblings.

Once she had completed half of the outline, Lucy’s eyes travelled from the cream page to the sidewalk, where a few mothers were milling around with their children. Pushing them in prams or trying to balance picnic baskets and food as the kids ran circles around them. A warm smile spread itself across Lucy’s face, this town was like her little corner of heaven.

It was mid afternoon when she first spotted him, Lucy had abandoned her writing a while ago in favor of people watching and basking in the rays of sun. She could have gone to the beach, but she couldn’t be bothered to move from her lawn where the sun was hitting just right.

The man looked about her age, he was wearing civilian clothes but he had an air about him that made Lucy think he was at least part of some branch of the military. He had dark curly hair and a mustache and he looked like an angel sent down from heaven. In his hand, Lucy spied a copy of the very book sitting next to her and a towel covered in sand. He must have been at the beach.

Lucy knew she was blatantly staring but he was just so pretty. She was used to the men that made up her London office, balding and sexist, who flirted with her like she was an object to be used. So whenever she ventured out into the real world Lucy was basically set in a tailspin by the array of people that interested her, and for some reason this strange man made her heart skip a beat.

Almost like she had wished it to happen, the man caught her stare and smiled shyly. Bringing up his free hand in an awkward wave. Cute. In return, Lucy beamed at him and waved back, before quickly grabbing her copy of The Great Gatsby and lifting it up.

Rosie headed back from the beach feeling renewed, and he was also hopeful that he might get another glance at the beautiful blonde from the blue house. Ever lost in his thoughts, Rosie didn’t even realize he was on the sidewalk that led to his B&B until he caught the glance of the woman from the porch… except this time she was lying on a blanket in the middle of the yard.

He smiled at her when he realized she was staring at him, at him! Then he did the stupidest thing he could think of and waved. Rosie started to berate himself for how idiotic he was being when the blonde waved back and smiled at him with a smile that had his breath catching.

A moment later she held up her book, a copy of which he was also carrying, and he smiled even more broadly.

“Good book?” She called out to him with a voice that reminded him of the movies. A crisp British accent laced with laughter.

“It sure is.” Rosie answered, almost feeling slightly ashamed of his American accent which sounded so much more grating in comparison to hers.

“I’m Lucy!” The woman said, standing up and brushing herself off as she walked over to the whitewashed fence so she was now only a meter away from Rosie. How he wished she was even closer.

“I’m Rosie.”

“Ah, an American. I knew it!” Rosie blushed and ducked his head in embarrassment. “Hey! I never said it was a bad thing. It’s nice to meet you, Rosie. You have a pretty accent.”

“I think that’s the first time one of you Brits has ever said that to me.”

“We haven’t been very welcoming, have we? Well that must be remedied instantly! How have you been enjoying good ol’ Britain?” Rosie felt like he was watching a band play the most incredible set, Lucy talked like she could charm the entire air force in just seconds.

“First time I’ve seen the sun in years.” Rosie said, exaggerating the comment by squinting at her, making Lucy laugh - the sound making a blush spread across Rosie’s face, he wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

“You and me both. I like to think of it as one of Britain's charms but it does get rather melancholic, don’t you think? Where are you usually stationed, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Thorpe Abbotts, I’m one of the pilots.”

“A fighter pilot?”

“Oh dear God no. I pilot B-17s.”

“Ah the big birds, that suits you better I would say.” Rosie inclined his head in agreement which had Lucy smiling at him.

“I’m a war correspondent - although I haven’t been on the front lines quite yet. My editor still has rather old-fashioned beliefs about women and war.” Lucy’s eyes dimmed at the last part which had Rosie wincing.

“They should feel lucky to have you, not the other way around.” Blush covered Lucy’s cheeks at his statement and Rosie felt himself smile triumphantly.

“Oh you charmer. Would you like to come in for some tea or water, maybe?”

“That would be wonderful.”

Lucy felt a certain giddiness encasing her body, she never did this. She never invited strange men, albeit handsome strange men, into her home and yet she was doing this. At least he didn’t seem like an axe murderer, and he was an American! Mostly she was just trying to overcome the nerves of having someone she actually liked showing interest in her.

Rosie quickly followed her into the house, helping her carry the picnic blanket she had been using as well as all her writing materials. So he truly was a gentleman after all.

The record had stopped spinning a while ago so when Lucy saw Rosie eying the player she quickly took the blanket and papers out of his hands.

“Why don’t you put on some music? I need to put these things away anyways.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go right ahead.” Rosie smiled gratefully and walked over to the record player, Lucy watched him flick through the various options and let herself smile. She needed some good in her life, she was going to let herself have this, even if it’s only for a few hours.

Turning around, Lucy folded the blanket and set it on one of the wooden chairs by the door, placing the book on top of it before bounding over to the study and placing the sheets of paper into a neat pile next to the typewriter. The sounds of Artie Shaw suddenly filled the atmosphere and Lucy quickly walked back over to the living room, making the creaks of the wooden floor boards alert her presence.

Lucy found Rosie staring out of the window and tapping on the frame in time with the music. He looked completely lost in thought that Lucy almost felt bad disturbing him.

“Rosie?”

“Hmm?”

“Water?”

“I would love some.” Rosie said as he turned from the window and smiled at Lucy, her nerves of bothering him dissipating in an instant when he set his gray eyes on hers. “Do you need any help getting it?”

“No, just keep choosing good music and we should be fine.” Lucy turned to get to the kitchen and grabbed a few glasses as Rosie trailed in behind her. Leaning against the door frame as he watched her move around the kitchen.

“You have a great collection.”

“That would be my parents’ accomplishment. They drilled good music taste into me.” Lucy said with a sad smile on her face as she poured out some water from one of the pitchers.

“My mom was the same way. The one problem is that I am in no way musically inclined, I just know what sounds good.”

“Have you tried to sing?” Lucy asked with a teasing smile as she passed him the glass.

“Oh I have, you do not want to be there when that happens.”

“How bad?”

“Horrifying. I sound like a dying goat.” They both burst out laughing and Lucy felt a warm feeling spread through her limbs, it almost felt like she was being doused in joy.

“I cannot wait for the day when I hear you sing.”

“Why? So you can ridicule me? That will not be happening in a million years, ma’am.”

“I would never ridicule you! How can you think so lowly of me?”

“I barely even know you-”

“Exactly.” Lucy interrupted with a serious look on her face that had Rosie chuckling again. They quieted down into a comfortable silence as they each took little sips of water every now and then, just watching the way the other person reacted.

“How are you liking the book?” Rosie finally asked.

“I’m enjoying it, it isn’t the kind of book I usually pick up but it’s a nice reminder of a time when war wasn’t a part of daily life. I do have to say though, you Americans are quite strange.”

“I feel like I should rebuke that but it’s the truth. Doesn’t it almost feel like the book was set in a completely different world?”

“Yes!” Lucy fervently agreed as they started to drift back towards the living room, settling into the worn couch.

Over the next few hours, Lucy and Rosie inched closer and closer together on the couch. They talked about everything under the sun; their lives, their favorite books, pictures, music, war and their lives before it all. Lucy let Rosie take charge of the music and their conversation was soundtracked by various jazz hits and whatever obscure artist Rosie seemed to find fascinating in her collection.

Eventually the conversation turned to family and Lucy avidly started to talk about her parents, a subject which she almost never discussed with anyone she had just met.

“So yeah my mum met my dad at one of the pubs she was performing at and the rest is history.”

“Well now I have to get you to sing, it must run in the family! And it’s only fair.”

“Hey! That was a joke.” Lucy screeched, she never liked singing in front of other people she preferred doing it in the comfort of her own home and doing it alone.

“Aha so you do admit you were trying to ridicule me!” Rosie said triumphantly as he pointed at Lucy, making her face twist in complete disbelief.

“That is what you got from that?”

“Well it’s the truth isn’t it?”

“It is not! And I will not sing for you.”

“One day you will.”

“Will not.”

“Will.”

“You stupid, stubborn man.” Lucy said poking at Rosie’s shoulder, making him devolve into hysterics which had Lucy smiling stupidly at the man in front of her. The butterflies in her stomach hadn’t really gone away the entire time she had been talking to him, they had somehow managed to get worse.

That was when she realized how late it had gotten, the sun was just beginning to set and the living room was set alight with the glowing colors of the sky.

“Oh dear, I have kept you too late. You don’t have somewhere to be, do you?” Lucy asked nervously, once Rosie had started to calm down.

“No, no, not at all. I didn’t have much time to make any plans before I came here.”

“Well in that case how would you like to have dinner with me?” Lucy didn’t show it but she was practically buzzing with nerves - hoping and praying that he would say yes.

“Are you kidding?” Rosie was looking at Lucy with a completely gobsmacked expression on his face that had Lucy wondering if he truly thought she was messing with him.

“Not at all.”

“Well, in that case, I would love to have dinner with you.”

“Uh- wonderful. I haven’t cooked anything so you wouldn’t mind going out, do you?”

“Of course not, it would be a good opportunity to explore the town.”

“I’ll just grab my coat and we can go?” Lucy asked tentatively and Rosie nodded before settling back into the couch. Lucy yelled out a quick ‘I’ll be right back’ and disappeared into the hallways of the house.

Rosie felt like he was in paradise. Who would have known that going on mandatory leave would get him this? He wasn’t sure he had ever bonded with someone as quickly as he had bonded with Lucy. It was as if they were twin souls, linked so that it was inevitable that they would meet at one point or another.

The light in the living room changed as the sun started to set, it played with the shadows on the walls and highlighted the framed photographs and art which told a story of a happy childhood and a happy family. It reminded him of his own childhood home. Rosie hadn’t even realized how much he had missed laughing. Something that suddenly just became so easy around Lucy.

Rosie had to give it to his self-restraint, he somehow managed not to kiss Lucy even though many a time in the past few hours he fantasized of brushing his hands through her blonde curls and kissing her like his life depended on it.

“Rosie? Do you want me to find you a coat?” A muffled yell was heard from somewhere upstairs which had him looking up towards the ceiling.

“No, I think I should be fine!” Rosie yelled back.

“Are you sure? I can probably find something that fits you.”

“I’m sure it’s not that cold, Lucy.”

“Okay! Don’t go around blaming me when you’re freezing to death.”

Shaking his head in mock resolution and quietly chuckling, Rosie stood up from his place on the green couch and went to pick up his copy of The Great Gatsby and the towel he had brought with him all those hours ago. But he stopped short when he saw Lucy’s own copy haphazardly strewn on one of the wooden chairs that seemed to be scattered throughout the house. With a sly smile, Rosie left the book and walked towards the front door, empty handed.

“Hi! Sorry that took so long. My hair was a mess, are you ready?” Lucy quickly said as she basically ran down the stairs, a motion that had Rosie’s hair raising in alarm - worried that she would somehow trip and fall to a quick death.

“You’re going to crack your head open one of these days if you keep going down stairs that quickly.” Rosie said when she finally reached the bottom and went to grab her purse from the side table.

“I know those stairs like the back of my hand, Rosie. If I ever trip and fall I’m blaming your handsome face.” Rosie made an expression of mock horror, but inside he felt like a stupid teenager.

“I’m offended by such an allegation. It would be your fault for getting distracted.” Lucy hummed back in mock reply before opening the door and walking out into the brisk night air, which had Rosie quickly following after her.

“Milady.” Rosie said, as he offered his arm to Lucy once she had shut and locked the door. Lucy beamed at him before slipping her arm around his, physically linking them together.

“Alright, I know this little Italian place that a friend’s family owns. How does that sound?”

“Perfect. I’ve been eating army rations for the past few years, anything that isn’t that sounds incredible.”

The pair roamed through the cobbled streets, in search of the little alleyway that housed the restaurant and basking in each other’s presence. When they finally arrived at the quaint little restaurant, Rosie was surprised to see that there were various other couples seated and eating Italian dishes.

“Lucy! You didn’t tell us you were back in town.” Said a voice from behind the counter, it belonged to a tall, brunette woman whose hair was tied back into an elaborate bun.

“Hi, Renata! Yeah, sorry, this was a last minute thing. How have you been?”

“Good, good. Now who is this handsome man?”

“Major Rosenthal, ma’am.”

“How did you bag this one, Lucy?” The brunette asked, making a blush creep up over both of Lucy and Rosie’s faces.

“Renata…”

“Fine! I won’t ask anymore questions. A table for two, I presume? We have a nice one close to the back.”

“That sounds great.”

Rosie spent the next hour eating the best spaghetti he had ever eaten and staring at the woman he seemed to be quickly falling in love with. They seemed to never run out of topics of conversation, cycling through enough to fill an entire encyclopedia. Rosie learnt a lot more about the British news field than he had ever thought was possible and in turn Lucy seemed enraptured whenever he talked about flying.

They stayed until it was almost closing time,when Renata basically pushed them out and gave them a complimentary bottle of wine, which had Lucy blushing in embarrassment and Rosie laughing. Somehow the night air was still warm, even though the sun had long set and the world had started to fall asleep.

“I’m glad I met you Rosie.” Lucy finally ventured, after they had been walking for a while in complete silence. Just letting the energy of the day seep in.

“Me too. I never in a million years would have thought I would meet someone like you.”

“You really do have a way with words, Major. Have you ever thought of becoming a poet?”

“I will leave all the writing to you, sweetheart.”

“This is it.” Lucy muttered once they had arrived back at the blue house at the end of the street.

“And that would be me.” Rosie said, pointing at the B&B next to the house.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You can bet on it, Lucy.”

“Great.” Lucy whispered the first word as Rosie started to move closer and closer to her. He felt a wave of dizziness hit him, but he carefully placed both of his hands on her cheeks and stroked the soft skin.

“I’m really glad I met you too, Lucy.” Rosie muttered before surging forward and finally doing what he had been meaning to do for the past few hours. He kissed her with such intensity that it caught Lucy off guard. She stood still for a few moments before kissing him back with the same intensity and love that he was emphasizing in that kiss.

Lucy tangled her hands in his brown curls and felt the world just go still. For the first time in a long while. They stayed like that, kissing and holding each other until they heard the distant sounds of a baby crying.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Rosie asked once they broke apart.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Lucy basically screeched in happiness once she had shut the door behind her. She finally understood what her mum was talking about when she talked about love at first sight. Rosie was her dream man, someone she didn’t even realize she had been looking for.

After carefully putting everything away and changing into her nightgown, Lucy settled into the comfort of her own bed and started to write lines upon lines about Rosie. She had filled up nearly two pages of her diary when her eyelids began to droop. It was almost midnight and she needed to be refreshed for tomorrow so she quickly signed off and pulled the covers over her body - allowing for sleep to pull her into its warm embrace.

The morning sun streamed through her window and softly woke Lucy up. Her relaxed joints groaned as she stretched and enjoyed the feeling of summer and sleep on her skin. Yesterday morning seemed like a distant memory. The darkness that usually invaded her waking hours felt almost less. Lucy had an excited thrill running through her body as she stretched.

Urging herself out of bed, Lucy slipped a robe over her nightgown and tied the sashes together loosely. The stairs creaked as her socked feet went down them and she was reminded of Rosie and his little comment about being careful. It was almost like this house was being reawakened with memories of the living, instead of being haunted by the ghosts of the past.

Once she arrived at the kitchen, Lucy started to go through her morning motions. Brewing a cup of Earl Gray tea, toasting some bread and starting to fry up some eggs. She was in the middle of beating the eggs together when a loud knock echoed through the house.

“There is no way that could be Rosie… could it?” Lucy wondered aloud, as she dried her hands on a tea towel and headed to answer the door. She turned the handle and pulled the door open to find that it was indeed Rosie. He was standing on the porch in civilian clothes again, his hair seemed a little less ordered than it was the day before and the morning sun was carefully lighting his face.

Lucy’s face broke out into a smile and Rosie returned it, before he carefully scanned her up and down and realized she was still in her nightgown. It was a long lacy and cotton thing that was only slightly covered by her robe. A light blush dusted his cheeks as he tried to focus on her face.

“Good morning. I hope I’m not disturbing…”

“Not all! Come, come. I’m just making breakfast.” Lucy stepped from out of the door frame, allowing for Rosie to walk into the house. She smiled and tried to contain her excitement as she focused on closing the door.

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” Lucy asked once she turned around and saw that Rosie was looking at her, he had a twinkle in his eye that wasn’t there a moment before and it made a surge of electricity run up her spine.

“I had some things at the B&B.”

“Alright, can I interest you in a cup of tea then?”

“Actually…” Rosie took a step closer to Lucy, making her raise her eyebrows in question. “I think I would like to do this first.”

Rosie pushed a stray curl away from her face and tucked it behind her ear before gently pressing his lips to hers. Lucy’s eyelids fell shut and she threw her arms around his neck, allowing herself to be swept away by the sensation. Once they drew apart, Lucy scrunched her nose up and looked at the handsome man in front of her.

“Well aren’t you presumptuous? Coming all the way here in the early morning just to kiss me.”

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I met you, I think it was warranted.” Rosie said with a shrug as he looked at Lucy adoringly, stroking his knuckles against the apple of her cheek.

“Flirt.”

“You love it.”

“I’m not gracing that with a response, now come. I don’t want my tea to get cold.” Lucy entwined her hand with his and started to pull Rosie in the direction of the kitchen, he was all too happy to follow her command.

Rosie watched from one of the wooden chairs as Lucy busied herself with making breakfast. She was as graceful as a dancer, she seemed to have the routine nailed down to a ‘T’.

“Here.” Lucy said, as she carefully placed a cup of steaming hot tea in front of Rosie. “Let me know what you think.”

Rosie gingerly rose the mug to his lips and blew on the milky liquid. It smelled incredible, he usually just drank the weak coffee at base but this smelt like something out of a bakery. Then he took a sip and instead of tasting something incredible, it almost tasted flat. In an effort to not disappoint the woman in front of him, Rosie forced a smile and fake hummed in delight.

“You hate it.” Lucy said with a laugh, which instantly had Rosie’s façade falling and he too was laughing.

“I’m an American, what can I say?”

“I’ll excuse it. Here I just finished mine so I can drink the rest. No need for it to go to waste.” Lucy placed her hands over his and Rosie felt the familiar spark in his body that was elicited by being able to touch her. His beautiful Lucy.

“I’m sorry.” Rosie said once Lucy started to take moderated sips of the beverage.

“Don’t apologize, I, for one, hate the taste of coffee so I think we can move on from this.” Rosie’s face turned scandalized for a moment but he quickly schooled his expression and nodded seriously, making Lucy snort and continue drinking her tea before turning to stir the eggs in the frying pan.

“Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

“Yes. Mrs. Sloane gave me plenty.” Rosie distinctly remembered the large feast the owner had prepared, it was almost too much to handle but she had been intent on doing it so he didn’t stop her.

“She’s wonderful, isn’t she? She used to babysit me when I was younger. I was supposedly a very difficult child.” Lucy muttered as she plated her breakfast and sat across from Rosie at the breakfast table.

“I don’t believe that, you seem like an angel.”

“Oh no I was very much a devil child. The amount of times I was lost in the sand dunes is beyond count.” Rosie guffawed and watched Lucy as she scooped up pieces of scrambled eggs with her unbuttered toast.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did, you?” Lucy asked, after taking a few bites of her toast. Rosie nodded and stretched over the table to tuck an errant curl behind her ear, seeing as a light blush covered Lucy’s face.

“Do you have any plans for today?”

“Nope. I was going to write but I think there is something else I would much rather be doing.”

“And what would that be?” Rosie asked with a smirk starting to spread across his face, he liked getting to tease her. To see what he could say to get Lucy all flustered.

“You’re really going to make me say it?”

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

“Fine, Major. I want to spend it with you.” Lucy said quickly, relenting under Rosie’s teasing glare.

“Good, because I have no plans.”

“Great.” Lucy nodded resolutely and then stood up to put the dishes in the sink. Rosie watched her as the fabric of her robe swayed around her. He stood up from his seat and walked up behind her, carefully placing his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her head.

“Hello there?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Do I?”

“Hmmm.”

“Rosie, I need to wash the dishes.”

“Just stay with me for a moment, then you can wash the dishes.” Lucy turned around so Rosie was staring into those deep brown eyes he loved.

“What are we doing, Rosie?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean with us. I’m assuming you will have to leave soon and I have to get back to London. I want this to be good but I can’t- I don’t deal well with loss, Rosie.” Lucy muttered, making Rosie’s heart almost break in half. He stood slightly speechless for a few moments as Lucy took to rearranging his hair. Rosie hadn’t even realized that this would all end soon. He didn’t realize he would have to leave her so soon.

“We’ll write and I promise I will do everything in my power to keep coming back. I want whatever this is, Lucy. Darling, I haven’t felt like this ever. I don’t want to lose you, even if I have just met you.”

“So we do this. We promise we will come back to each other.”

“Yes. And I get to call you mine.”

“Rosie, I- alright. Let’s do this. I’m in.”

“Good, because I was all in the moment I saw that beautiful face from across the lawn.” Lucy giggled and suddenly rested her head against his chest. Rosie was sure she could feel the thudding of his heart, so he wrapped her up in his arms and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Lucy’s arms circled his middle and they stayed like that for a few long moments.

“What do you want to do today?” Rosie heard Lucy mutter against the fabric of his shirt, her hot breath making shivers run up his spine.

“Whatever you would like.”

“Does a picnic sound nice?”

“That sounds lovely.” Lucy started to unwind her arms and Rosie already started to miss the weight of her against him.

“I would need to get changed.” Rosie watched Lucy motioned at her clothes and smiled at the devastated expression on his face.

“Do you really?”

“Yes, you menace!” Rosie laughed at the scandalized expression on Lucy’s face.

“Fine, fine. I’ll start on the dishes.”

“Rosie… you don’t have to.”

“I want to. Now shoo, before I don’t let you get dressed.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Watch me.” Rosie said, ducking his head so he was looking at Lucy through his eyebrows. She just rolled her eyes and pulled herself away from his arms, but not before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Rosie smiled as he watched her walk away from him, he knew he was beyond smitten.

Lucy was desperately searching for something to wear when the sounds of Ella Fitzgerald filtered in from downstairs. Rosie had put on music, and she could distantly hear him humming to himself over the rush of water.

Staring at the closer, Lucy realized that all her clothes suddenly seemed too ugly to work, she wanted to dress up enough that she looked nice but also didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard. Why is this so complicated?

Huffing, Lucy finally pulled out a dark pink dress she hadn’t worn since before the war. It was made of cotton and she knew it looked good on her… five years ago. There was no fault in trying it on so Lucy quickly changed out of her nightgown and buttoned up the cotton dress up. Fluffing up her curls, Lucy carefully folded the strewn clothes and arranged the closet.

She knew she was probably just trying to procrastinate going downstairs when Lucy started to smooth out the fabric of her dress for the fifth time.

“Deep breaths. It will be fine.” Lucy firmly nodded in resolution before opening the door of her bedroom and walking out.

Rosie was finishing drying the dishes when Lucy walked in, she watched as he stared out of the kitchen window absentmindedly humming to the music and drying one of the mugs.

“How do sandwiches sound?” Lucy finally asked as she pulled the old fridge door open, trying to find if she had enough things to make a suitable lunch.

“That sounds great. You don’t mind that I used the record player?”

“Darling, you are free to use that whenever you please.” Lucy reassured him as she emerged from the fridge holding a parcel of cheese and various pieces of produce. Her heart seemed to stop when she saw how he was looking at her. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No really, why are you staring at me like that?”

“You look like a vision.” Lucy ducked her head to stop Rosie from seeing her cheeks flaming bright red.

“Thank you.” Lucy placed the food on the cutting board and started to cut up the cheese into slices to go on the bread.

“You don’t take compliments well, do you?”

“I’m British, what do you expect?” Lucy said as she looked at Rosie over her shoulder, repeating the same words he had said to her. He had finished drying the dishes a while ago and now he was leaning on the counter with his arms crossed. The morning sun hit his face just right and Lucy was wondering how he had become a pilot when he clearly could have been put into major motion pictures.

Lucy turned back to the task at hand with a smile on her face, the song on the record player suddenly changed and Lucy started to hum in tune with the music.

She quickly finished making the sandwiches and ordered Rosie to try and find the basket that she had stowed away in the hall closet. When he returned, Rosie was also carrying the picnic blanket from the day before.

“Thought we might need this.”

“Perfect, you can set it- uh Rosie?” Lucy found herself being spun around and into Rosie’s arms. They were swaying in time with the music and she found herself looking at the man in front of her with a questioning look in her eyes.

“This song can’t not be danced to. And you look too beautiful for me not to take this opportunity.” Rosie said as he brought Lucy closer to him, leaning his forehead against hers.

“You need to stop that.”

“What? Saying the truth?”

“Rosie…”

“Nope, not taking requests. You’re stuck with me.”

“Oh God.” Lucy groaned in mock anguish and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling as he tightened his hold on her.

Once everything was packed and ready, Rosie found himself carrying the picnic basket in one hand and holding Lucy’s hand in the other. She truly looked like some kind of angel sent from heaven. Her blonde curls bounced as she walked and excitedly explained random bits of history or childhood stories about different areas of the town.

Supposedly they were on the way to one of the little alcoves that was the perfect picnic spot according to Lucy, but Rosie just felt happy to be around her. He still didn’t truly understand how exactly he had found Lucy. He could clearly imagine what would have happened if he never took leave, he would be going up again and would have never known about the blonde spitfire who hated compliments and lived in a blue house by the beach.

God, he can almost picture Crosby’s face when he tells him that he found a girl while on leave. That is going to be something that he would never want to miss.

“So tell me about you now, I think I’ve rambled on long enough.” Lucy said, as she beamed at Rosie, bumping her shoulder against his.

“You know almost everything about me, darling.”

“There has to be something. A dirty secret, perhaps?”

“No, no. Nothing of the sort.”

“Alright fine, Saint Rosie.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Any dirty secrets.”

“Hmm, a few, but my lips are sealed.”

“Now that’s unfair.”

“It is not!”

They continued on like that for a while longer, until both Rosie and Lucy had started to feel tiny pangs of hunger in their stomachs. The sun was shining brightly as they continued to walk on the beach, Lucy still intent on finding the cove she used to go to.

“Aha! There it is. I told you, my parents used to take me here when I was a kid.”

Lucy unlaced her hand from Rosie’s and he watched her as she ran across the sand, twirling and laughing like she had just won the lottery. A feeling of complete happiness and joy spread through Rosie’s limbs and he carefully placed the picnic basket on the sand, running after Lucy. Once he reached her he pulled her into his arms and twirled her around. Their laughter quickly filled the cove with joy it hadn’t witnessed in a while.

They had calmed down after a while and Rosie quickly helped Lucy set up the picnic. The ginger beer somehow still cool to the touch after being carried under the sun for a while.

Once everything was ready, Rosie basically inhaled his sandwich, whether that was because of Lucy’s culinary skills or the hunger that had built up in him during the walk he did not know, but Rosie felt calm for the first time in a while.

He was now watching the push and pull of the waves against the sandy beach and stroking a hand through Lucy’s soft curls. With her head resting on his lap she seemed to almost be dozing off, a small content smile adorning her face.

“You know, I’m glad my editor made me take a break.” Lucy’s soft voice carefully broke the comfortable silence, Rosie hummed in appreciation - urging her to go on. “I haven’t stopped working ever since… my parents.”

“It’s almost like you settled into a routine, you thought you were handling it well and then suddenly…” Rosie trailed off as he thought back to his time at the Flak House, he had gotten better at handling missions after that, he felt more human but he knew exactly how hard it felt to just stop sometimes. Because when you stop, you start to feel everything.

“It gets too much…”

“Exactly. I had- have, the same problem.”

“Birds of a feather.”

“Yes.” Rosie murmured, his mind far away in the clouds. He felt so connected to Lucy for some reason. Maybe this is why. They were two sides of the same coin.

“Read to me, Rosie.” Lucy said after a few moments of silence. Rosie looked down to find that Lucy’s brown eyes were fixed on his face.

“You want the silly American to read to you?”

“Rosie… everything about you is beautiful, now, read to me. The silly Brit commands you.”

“Commanding me now, are we?” Rosie teasingly asked, largely ignoring the first part of Lucy’s comment which made him feel like he was floating.

“Rosie.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rosie picked up the copy of The Great Gatsby that Lucy had packed and flicked to a random page, starting to read the tale of some rich fictional idiots who had no care in the world except for the sorrows of love.

Pastels painted the sky as the sun started to set. Lucy was still lying in the same position she had been for the past few hours. Rosie had abandoned reading after a while and they spent that time talking and sitting in comfortable silence.

It was easy just being around Rosie, Lucy felt completely safe in his presence. He had this reassuring air around him which made her sure he was a wonderful Major.

“Sometimes I wish I could paint. I can write about this moment all I want but to create a piece of it would be a completely different experience.”

“Why don’t you start it?”

“What? Painting? No never, you have a better chance of turning me into a singer.” Lucy answered, making the pair laugh.

“Do you think we should head back?”

“Let us stay for a while more, Rosie. It’s too perfect. I want something to remember when we leave.”

“We’ll come back here, Lucy. I swear it.” Lucy smiled up sadly at Rosie, examining the way he looked down at her. She thought he looked earnest enough, but who knew with this war? Who knew if he would ever come back to her?

“I hope we will, Rosie.”

Lucy noticed how much quieter the walk back to her house was, Rosie had slung his arm around her shoulder, tucking her into him and protecting Lucy from the biting night wind that had started to pick up. It was almost as if the realization of leaving was starting to weigh on them. Rosie would be leaving late the next afternoon and Lucy on Monday. Both headed back to their lives and away from the slice of heaven they had been able to cultivate.

“Do you want to come in?” Lucy asked once they arrived at her house. She had already started to move to grab the picnic basket, making up her mind that Rosie wanted to at least spend a meal by himself.

“I would love to.” Lucy smiled and moved back to her original position under Rosie’s arm. “But only if you don’t mind me cooking?”

“You cook?!” Lucy must have realized she looked beyond surprised because she schooled her face a few moments later.

“I do. I haven’t had the chance recently, but my mother taught me well.”

Lucy smiled and quickly pecked Rosie on the cheek before bounding over to the door to unlock it.

“Come on, Rosie. I’m desperate to see what you’ll make.”

Rosie just laughed and picked up his pace until he followed Lucy into the house and shut the door behind him. He placed the picnic basket on the floor and then headed towards the direction of the kitchen.

He passed Lucy, who was quickly flicking through the record collection, intent on finding something to put on while he cooked. Rosie already knew what he was going to make, he just hoped Lucy had the right ingredients for it.

Rosie quickly spent the next hour prepping and cooking his mom’s famous tomato soup. Lucy poured them each large cups of wine and watched him as he cooked. Rosie felt slightly embarrassed by her calculating stare, feeling her eyes on him the entire time he was slicing or stirring, but after a while he realized she was staring at him in admiration. Watching as he fluidly moved through her kitchen and prepared a dinner just for the two of them.

When Rosie was finally ready to plate the food, Lucy offered him two china bowls her mother must have saved for special occasions and Rosie distinctly felt his heart swell. He was rather nervous after they finished serving everything and sat down next to each other at the large dinner table that was usually left unused.

Rosie watched Lucy as dipped her spoon into the tomato soup, raised it to her lips and took a delicate sip. He watched as her face contorted in awe and she quickly took a larger sip.

“Rosie. How? This needs to be in a restaurant. This is incredible!”

“It can’t be that good.”

“Oh it is. You must tell me your secrets.” Rosie laughed, relieved that he was able to please her. He took a sip of his own soup and relished in the familiar taste of home.

After dinner and cleaning up the dishes, Rosie found himself nestled next to Lucy on the couch. She had gotten changed once they had finished drying the dishes and was now wearing the long lacy nightgown he had seen that morning. It seemed that it was tailored to be his own personal torture device.

“Lucy, you really need to stop me, because I really want to kiss you right now.” Rosie finally said, it seemed like the two glasses of wine had given him enough confidence that his brain was no longer filtering his mouth. Lucy turned her head to look at him directly and he watched as a smile blossomed on her face.

“Oh I’m not going to be the one to stop you.”

This kiss felt different from the others. It was as if it was imbued with a special kind of love that came from knowing the other person on a much deeper level. Rosie’s fingers were tangled in Lucy’s silky blonde curls and he could feel as his own curls were being ruffled from where Lucy’s hands had started to tug on them.

When they finally broke apart, both Rosie and Lucy were panting hard. Rosie knew he was looking at Lucy with more admiration than he thought was possible and she was looking at him with the same depth of love in her eyes.

“You are quite a man, Robert Rosenthal.”

“And you are quite a woman, Lucy Everett.” Lucy laughed and she tucked herself close to him once again. Rosie relished in the warmth that her body emanated, how he wished he could stay like this forever.

Little by little, the sound of Bing Crosby started to fade and Rosie felt himself drop into a slow slumber. Lucy’s eyes also began to close and the two lovers drifted off into the sweet escape of sleep.

Only once did one of them wake, Rosie woke up panting after having what seemed like a nightmare. The moon illuminated the living room and he could still hear the distant sounds of a woman screaming. He shook himself out of it and instead focused on the blonde in his arms. He carefully readjusted her and placed a kiss on her cheek before falling back asleep.

Lucy felt a warm solid body pressed against her own. She blearily blinked her eyes open and watched as her living room blossomed around her. Then she remembered where she was, and who she was with.

“You’re finally awake.” Rosie’s voice made Lucy smile contently and she looked up to see Rosie’s intent stare on her face.

“Hmmm, good morning.”

“It is indeed.”

“You stayed.”

“I wouldn’t leave unless I had to, Lucy.” Rosie said with a sad smile, Lucy watched as his eyes dimmed slightly and she quickly nestled closer into him. Sitting up slightly to press a kiss to his jaw, and then his cheek and finally his lips.

“What was that for?”

“I thought you needed it.” Lucy said with a shrug before she was too attacked with kisses. Rosie’s mustache tickled her skin as he placed a flurry of kisses all over her face. She shrieked in delight, making Rosie chuckle against her. “Rosie! Stop! I have to go make breakfast.”

“Nope.” Rosie stopped kissing her for a moment just to respond to her comment and Lucy let out a sigh of relief, which was instantly cut short as he started his assault once again.

“Rosie…”

“Okay, okay fine. Come on. I’ll help you make breakfast.” Rosie said, finally relenting. He stretched out his arms and let out a groan as Lucy also yawned and started to stand up from her place on the couch.

“What are you feeling like?”

“Anything you want, darling. Just none of that tea please.” Lucy narrowed her eyes at him, which had Rosie smiling sheepishly at her.

“Fine, come on.”

Lucy quickly busied herself as she picked out the meager ingredients she had to make eggless pancakes, since she had used up the last of the eggs yesterday. Lucy could feel Rosie’s eyes on her when she started to do her little tea ritual.

“Can you put on some music, honey?” Lucy asked once she had finished pouring herself a cup.

“Of course.”

After the click of the record sounded, Lucy distinctly felt the weight of Rosie behind her as he pulled her towards him and hugged her from behind. Lucy was carefully measuring out the ingredients but she let her head lean against his shoulder.

“Hmmm. I’m going to miss you.” Lucy whispered, Rosie hummed against her head and Lucy felt herself start to sway against him. She felt a slow tear run down the length of her cheek and she allowed herself to just feel for a few moments.

“I may be leaving but I’ll always be in your heart, and you will always be in mine.”

“You’re already making me cry, Rosie, stop saying things like that.” Lucy said with a strained laugh. Looking back at him, Lucy felt her heart both swell and break simultaneously.

“Lucy… I-”

“I love you.” Lucy muttered, interrupting Rosie mid sentence. She watched him as his eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“You- you? You love me?”

“I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.”

“I love you too. I’ve loved you ever since I saw you sitting outside on your porch swing reading the same book I was. Lucy, darling, I-”

Lucy cut Rosie off again but this time with a kiss. She threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled him towards her. She put everything she had into that kiss and she felt as Rosie responded in turn. His lips cautiously moved against hers and she felt a tingle run over her body by how carefully he cradled her face against his.

“Rosie. I really need to get to those pancakes.” Lucy finally said after a few long minutes of kissing. She muttered her words against his lips, feeling as Rosie chuckled and pulled away from here.

“Nothing is stopping you, milady.” Lucy huffed but turned back around. Savoring the feeling of the man that she loved cradling her as she fixed breakfast and took sips of her tea.

Rosie’s tastebuds ignited when he placed a slice of pancake in his mouth. The day was already starting to shape out to be a good one. He still felt like he was floating after Lucy’s admission only half an hour ago, now he just watched her in awe from across the kitchen table. She was also taking careful bites of her pancakes and stealing glances at him.

They had almost become more bashful than they had ever been, whenever they met eyes either Rosie or Lucy would immediately break eye contact. There was a comfortable tension between them that neither person felt necessary to break.

Once they had both finished their respective breakfasts, Rosie leant over and entwined their hands together. He watched as Lucy smiled adoringly at him and leaned over to peck his lips.

“Rosie… I- do you want to finish The Great Gatsby?” Lucy asked against his lips, staring at him intently. Rosie nodded and they both rose from their seats and walked over to the living room. Leaving the dishes for another time.

The morning was spent in a quiet comfort. Rosie’s voice echoed through the rooms of the house, although he frequently stopped his reading to press languid kisses to Lucy’s lips, or to caress the exposed skin of her arm. At the pace that he ended up going, he finished the book at about midday. When Rosie leaned over to place the book on the coffee table, he felt Lucy stir from his side and start to stretch out.

“I need to get changed, Rosie.”

“Yeah?”

“Hmm. I wanted to walk with you to the station and I can’t do that wearing a nightgown.”

“I wouldn’t be complaining.”

“I know you wouldn’t be, but do you truly want everyone else staring at me.” Rosie blinked up at Lucy from his position on the couch when realization dawned on him. “I thought so. Now busy yourself with something while I get changed.”

“Yes ma’am.” Rosie said with a sarcastic nod which had Lucy shaking her head at him before disappearing out of the door.

Rosie took to scanning the living room he had basically lived in for the past few days. He wanted to commit it all to memory before he had to leave. At that thought, Rosie dragged a hand over his face - he was leaving in less than two hours and he was leaving her. How he wished he could take her with him and show her the planes that so fascinated her. Most of all he wanted this damned war to end so he could be in her arms for the rest of his life.

His fingers caressed the worn fabric of the couch he was sitting on, he felt more at home here than he had in a while. Rosie didn’t want to leave. He knew his duty and nothing would stop him from that, but how he wished it wasn’t like this. He wished he had met Lucy at a jazz bar, or at a bookstore, when war wasn’t a constant in both of their lives.

He wished the world was different, but unfortunately it wasn’t. All Rosie could do was keep coming back from missions, and now he had another reason to.

“Very well, how do I look?” Lucy’s voice almost made him jump, he had been so lost in his thoughts that Rosie hadn’t heard the creaking of the age old floorboards. He took a few moments to take in his beautiful Lucy. She was wearing a long light yellow dress with black flowers embroidered on the collar.

“You look radiant as always, my dear.” Rosie said, almost breathlessly as he rose from his spot on the sofa and walked over to her. He pressed a kiss to her lips, trying to memorize the feeling of her warm body against his.

“Hmm. Not that this isn’t wonderful, but we need to make lunch. And I wanted to make some sandwiches for your trip back.”

“You really don’t need to do that.” Rosie said as he pulled away from Lucy to look at her in surprise.

“I want to, now come.”

After a quick lunch, Lucy had disappeared into her study to write him a little note - leaving Rosie to do the dishes. She sat down at her desk and stretched her fingers before starting to type.

Dear Rosie,

I know you won’t read this until you get back, but I wanted you to have something to remember me by. I just wanted to say that I love you and I promise to write to you nearly every day and try to call you when I can because I’m not sure I will be able to survive without hearing or reading your words for a day.

You have turned my world into something I never expected. I never expected you, my darling. I wish we could spend more days like this weekend. I will never forget them, I will never forget you. I will always cherish these memories, until we are able to make new ones just like them.

I love you, my dear. Remember that when you’re flying your plane and have your head in the clouds.

All my love,

Lucy

With a final ding of the typewriter, Lucy pulled the paper out and blew a little on the ink before folding it into a neat rectangle. She grabbed Rosie’s copy of The Great Gatsby that had been hanging around the house for the past few days. Opening up the book she slipped the note in between the pages and then picked up her pencil to scribble her name on the inside cover page.

“Now what might you be up to?” Lucy swivelled around to find Rosie leaning on the doorframe. His arms were crossed and he seemed to have been standing there for quite a while.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Oh really? So you didn’t just slip something into my book.”

“Shhh, it’s supposed to be a secret. Be a dear and don’t open it until you get back.” Lucy said as she rose from her seat and placed the book into Rosie’s hands, an easy smile on her face.

“The suspense might kill me but I promise. When do you have to head back to London?”

“Tomorrow. I’m hoping for a new assignment.”

“I’m sure it’s going to be amazing.”

“You better buy a copy of the paper once it’s published.”

“Don’t worry, I will be on the lookout for it.” Rosie’s arms now encircled her waist, and Lucy was sure she was staring at him like a lovesick idiot.

“We better get going if we want to catch your train. You still need to pick up your luggage.”

“I know, but this is much more preferable.”

“Rosie… don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Alright, alright.” Rosie’s hands rose in a defeated posture, making Lucy choke out a laugh.

“Come on.”

Lucy followed after Rosie as she went to grab the necessary things for leaving the house. She slipped on her shoes and tied the laces while watching Rosie take in the last details of the hallway before he left. He looked contemplative and Lucy wondered what exactly he was thinking about.

Rosie’s curls were all messed up from a night on the couch and from Lucy’s constant tugging and rearranging of them. Lucy thought he looked ethereal standing there in wrinkled clothes and messy hair. For the billionth time she wished she was a painter so she could capture him just like that.

“Ready?” She finally asked. Lucy’s question made Rosie’s eyes travel to her and he gave her a nod before going to open the door.

It felt final to Lucy, she knew she would see him again but there was always a chance, a high chance, that he wouldn’t come back to her. Even if he had promised he would.

She waited outside of the B&B for Rosie to collect his luggage, she had taken to kicking a pebble on the sidewalk and staring at the cracks in the pavement. Watching as the little weeds crept through the cement.

“Lucy… I have everything.” Rosie’s tentative voice broke her out of her thought spiral, making Lucy look over to him to find that he had changed into his uniform and had tamed his curls. He looked handsome, somehow even more handsome than he had while he wore civies. His hat was under his left arm and he held his luggage in the other.

“Well don’t you look handsome?” Rosie rewarded Lucy with a bashful smile and a blush. “Aww, don’t go getting all shy on me now.” Lucy teased as she came up to him and carefully took the hat from under his arm and placed it slightly lopsided on his head. She wrapped her hand around his now free arm and leaned against his shoulder.

The walk to the train station was filled with easy chatter, Lucy was trying to avoid facing the fact that he was leaving (possibly forever) and that she would have to return to a house that would now be void of Rosie. The small platform greeted the pair all too quickly, the station clock showing that it would only be a few minutes before the train that would take Rosie far, far away from her would arrive.

“Rosie, I- I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t- Lucy, I don’t want this to be goodbye.”

“But you’re leaving, Rosie.”

“I’ll come back.”

“Oh, Rosie, you can’t promise me that.” She smiled tightly at him, and threw her arms around his shoulder. Feeling as he quickly reciprocated the hug. Hot, burning tears started to race down her face.

“I know, I know I can’t, but I promise that I’ll keep trying to come back. To come back to you.”

“I’m going to miss you so much. I love you.” Lucy whispered against his chest, as she let out a choked sob. She felt droplets of water hit her head and she realized that Rosie was crying too.

“And I’m going to miss you, my dear Lucy. I love you too, so much.” Rosie said as he leaned closer to Lucy.

“Promise me you’ll write.”

“Every day. Here, this is my address at the base and the phone number.” Rosie quickly pulled a piece of paper and pencil from his bag and scribbled a note on there, adding a heart for good measure.

The distant sound of the train whistle had Lucy’s heart clenching. She quickly swept away her tears and took the paper from Rosie’s hands. She pulled him in for one last kiss. Feeling as the top of his hat bumped against her forehead and how his lips pressed against hers.

The train whistle got louder and louder, making the urgency of the kiss increase. It felt like a goodbye kiss. Lucy hoped she would get to experience it again but she also knew this might be the last time, so she memorized the pressure and love that seemed to be behind Rosie’s actions. They finally pulled apart, reluctantly, when the train slowed into the station.

“Goodbye, Lucy Everett. Don’t cry, my darling. I’ll always be here. In our memories and in the love you know I hold for you.” Rosie muttered, Lucy stared deep into his eyes and nodded.

“Goodbye, Rosie. I love you so so much, now go.” Rosie smiled sadly and then pulled away from her. Lucy watched as her dear Major stepped onto the train and turned to wave at her and blow her a kiss one last time. She smiled as tears ran down her cheeks and waved back, making her remember that first wave he had sent her all those days ago.

Rosie was back on the train, except this time it wasn’t boiling hot and he was feeling the deep pangs of an aching heart. He missed her so much already and it had only been two hours. He would be arriving in London soon where he would have to change trains to get back to base, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything except stare at the piece of paper in his hands. He hadn’t opened it yet but he kept stroking the paper as if it would magically make Lucy appear in front of him.

He wanted desperately to ask the train to go back around, to abandon his life so he could run off into the sunset with his sweetheart but he had a job to do. A job which would keep her safe. So he spent the entire time on the train and then the jeep back to base thinking about Lucy’s silky curls and her ringing laughter.

Even Crosby seemed to notice something was up when he was quieter than usual at dinner. He tried to press him about it, but Rosie just brushed him off. Until he realized that Cros was now genuinely looking worried about him.

“Crosby, I’m fine.”

“What the hell happened during your leave that has suddenly turned you into a grouch?”

“I met someone.”

“You met someone?” Crosby tentatively asked.

“A girl.”

“You met a girl?!”

“Crosby, goddammit, quiet down.”

“Jesus, sorry. So you met a girl?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And what? I met a girl, fell in love and now I’m dealing with the fact I might never get to see her again.”

“Did you give her your address? Wait- fell in love? Rosie, you scoundrel!”

“It isn’t like that, Cros.”

“Sure. But did you?”

“Yes, I gave her my address. I’m sure she’ll write-”

“There! You see, she loves you too right?”

“Yes.”

“Exactly, you need to stop overthinking this and just allow it to happen.”

“Crosby… I just- I promised I’d come back to her.”

“Then you better do it. You’re one of the best god damned pilots I know, Rosie. If anyone could do it, you can. You’ll make it back and you’ll make gorgeous babies with this girl of yours. What’s her name anyways?”

“Lucy Everett.”

part 2 part 3 part 4

so... thoughts? queries?

also here are the moodboards i've made so far: meet the oc lucy's outfits

there will probably be an epilogue of sorts and some little drabbles/fics scattered around the timeline so let me know if you want to be added to the taglist !!

taglist: @justheretoreadthhx @callumsgirl <33

#rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #masters of the air #mota #mota spoilers #mota fanfic #mota oc #masters of the air oc #masters of the air x oc #rosie rosenthal x oc #rosie x oc #robert rosenthal x oc #my ocs <3 #harry crosby #nate mann #maria writes

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roxygen22 · 2 months

Text

Still Here

Chapter 1

Summary: After the life and home you built falls apart, you serendipitously bump into your old high school sweetheart, Timothée.

C/W: Divorce, mention of complicated pregnancy (nothing graphic)

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"I thought you were too good for this place, [Y/N]."

You spun around in the grocery store aisle to see your high school sweetheart, Timothée, holding a box of cereal in one hand, a shopping basket in the other, and a smirk on his face. His still very handsome face. He seemed to take great pleasure in the look of shock on yours.

"Timmy," you breathed.

"You came back."

The road ahead of you seemed to go on and on and on. You hadn't seen another car in at least an hour as you drove across the plains of Kansas. Your nine year old daughter, Madison, was asleep in the back seat, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Alone. That word didn't sit well with you.

A nasty divorce left you with nothing but what you could pack in your car. You had nowhere to go except back to your tiny hometown across the country in rural Tennessee to move back in with your parents. You hadn't been back since you graduated from high school 12 years ago.

You were valedictorian and had your pick of schools. Much to your parents' chagrin, you were itching to get as far away from the "sticks" as possible, so you applied to universities all along the West Coast. You were over the moon when you received a full ride to UCLA to study biomedical engineering, where you met...him. Your now ex-husband. The two of you met during convocation festivities your freshman, his junior year. You had just left your friends behind in Tennessee and had not yet built a local support network, so you latched onto this cute, kind man who picked up the book you dropped.

The kind man who later left you and your daughter to live with a younger woman who "gets" him better.

You and he dated for a little over a year before he asked you to marry him. Not one for big productions, you decided for a courthouse ceremony a few days later because you just couldn't wait to be joined with the love of your life in marriage forever. You were soon pregnant. Unfortunately, the pregnancy was not an easy one. Severe morning (more like morning, noon, and night) sickness led to multiple hospitalizations, forcing you to miss classes. You eventually reached a point of no return and had to drop out.

Your husband was still able to finish university, though, and was luckily able to quickly secure stable employment, which allowed you to stay home to care for your newborn baby. As the years passed, he became increasingly distant, staying late at work or making excuses to leave again once he was home. You weren't surprised when, after ten years of marriage, he told you he wanted a divorce, because you did, too. But you had no way to support yourself and a child. You hadn't held down a job since before Madison was born. Your work history prior to that was limited because you were so young. You had no collateral or credit history, either. Everything had been in his name.

You had to start over. You had to go back to the beginning.

Tennessee.

"You came back."

"Yes, I just recently moved back in with my parents. I-"

"Mom, can we get some chips? Nana doesn't have any good snacks," Madison complained behind you as she came back to the same aisle. Timothée went wide-eyed as he looked at the girl and then back at you. She leaned around you to stare back at him. "Who's he?"

"This is my- uh- friend from high school, Timothée. Timothée, this is my daughter, Madison."

"Whoa. She looks just like you did at that age." He shook his head as if to clear a fog. "Where are my manners?" he quipped as he stepped around you and held out his hand to her. "It's nice to meet you, Madison. Your mother and I go way back."

"You knew my mom when she was my age?"

"Before that, even. We went to school together all the way from kindergarten to senior year until she moved to California for college," Timothée replied before locking eyes with you. "She was very eager to get out of here, so I am rather surprised to run into her today."

"It's a long story." You cleared the lump forming in your throat and looked down at Madison. "We should get going. We need to get these groceries home and refrigerated again."

"Right, well, maybe I'll see you around again now that you are back in town." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I'm sure we will bump into each other." Hopefully, you thought to yourself. "It's a small town - that's practically inevitable."

<><><><><>

Chapter 2

MASTERLIST

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Tag List: @croatianprincess

#timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #reader insert #female reader #mom reader #single mom #divorce #high school sweethearts #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet x you #timothée chalamet imagine #single parenting #single parent #whump #angst

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luwritesomething · 2 years

Text

Mickey Altieri x Reader: Umbrella Link.

Words: 1706

Warnings: bad date.

Summary: you are alone in the rain because you forgot to brin an umbrella. mickey has one, though.

Author's note: OKAY SO I’M OBSESSED WITH SCREAM, and i’ve been writing in ao3 instead of in here because i wanted to get away from my responsabilities and numerous dodge mason request. sorry, i got overwhelmed, but i’m back, and i’m bringing all of my pieces in ao3 with me. here you go. you can find the link to ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39859458

Criticism is appreciated and request are open! Hit that anon button and tell me your idea!

-----------------------------------

College was definitely better than high school. You had never believed your friends back in your hometown whenever they talked about how great university was going to be. How it would change everything, how no one disliked college. You had never had, on the other hand, too much faith on this idea, though. Middle school had been hell and high school hadn’t been any better. Instead of thinking positively, theorizing that college couldn’t be worse than what you had already lived, you stayed on the half empty view. So, arriving at Windsor College and discovering that you had been wrong all along was a pleasant surprise that Derek Feldman, your old friend, would never allow you to forget.

Derek and you had been friends since kindergarten. You wouldn’t know what to do without him, and neither did him without you, so it had been a relief to find out both of you had been accepted into the same high school. Your friendship, however, hadn’t stopped either of you when it was time to find some other friends, and slowly but firmly, the new group of friends strengthened with the friendships that lasted after the first weeks of class. Randy, Derek, Mickey, Hallie, Sidney… You’ve all become inseparable and that’s everything you know by now.

That, and the fact that it is raining like it’s the last day on Earth and you have no umbrella.

Hallie and Derek told you earlier, before you went on your date, that you should take an umbrella with you but you hadn’t listened. There were no clouds in the sky and you were convinced you would come back to your dorm before the sky could get cloudy. As you had expected, the date hadn’t gone well for you, but the guy talked a lot about himself — so much, you had loathed the sound of his voice only half an hour in. Still, you hadn’t found a valuable excuse to leave earlier than supposed to, and he literally gave you no time to tell him that it was already late and you should head back home. He had offered to walk you home, making a brilliant observation about you not having an umbrella when it was raining cats and dogs, but you had nicely told him you would wait in the coffee shop’s doorway until it stopped. You had no intention of spending more time with that person, ever again, and it had been a relief seeing him finally walk away. It wasn’t a relief, though, that it was still bucketing down with no intention to stop. You were cold, and tired and a bit annoyed by the result of your date.

“Nice weather, isn’t it?” The voice near your ear made you jump on your place, not knowing someone had approached you from behind. You gave Mickey Altieri a dirty look when you recognized him behind his umbrella, a grin in his face. “Whoa, relax, Y/N. It’s just me”

Mickey had been Derek’s first friend on campus. He was his roommate and the two of them had quickly hit it off. He also turned out to be a film student, just like you, but you were closer with Randy Meeks. Mickey was everything opposed to Randy, which meant he was everything that got you a little nervous. His nonchalant playfulness, his flirtatious comments, his easy going but intense personality — it was all nice until you two were alone, when those things focused on you more than usual.

“Yeah.” You scoffed, burying your hands in your hoodie’s pockets. You avoided his eyes for some seconds before looking back at him, finding he moved from behind you to next to you. “For a duck, it might be”

Mickey chuckled softly and his face lightened up when he did. You didn’t need to look at him to see the wrinkles that formed in his eyes, you’ve already memorized them. He happens to laugh a lot. “Where’s your date, uh?”

“Gone, thankfully.” You said, and that made him chuckle again. Your lip corner twitched gently and you crossed your arms. “No, I mean it. He was so… he only talked about himself, I swear. He literally began by saying he loved how his voice sounds”

“Sounds like a jerk.” Mickey agreed, his smile still shining bright.

“Well, he was pretty sure he was awesome”

This time, you joined Mickey’s chuckles. It was sweetly contagious, and if you looked at the situation with a little bit of humor, it was actually really funny. How many chances did someone have of going to a date where the date was only going to talk about themselves? Self-love was definitely something important, but this guy had crossed some serious boundaries. Mickey’s brain came up with a thousand jokes about what you had told him about the date, but he held himself back from saying them. It was already hard for him to make you laugh, he had no intention of screwing up the little good time you two had together.

“So.” Mickey pointed at the rain with his chin and then looked at you. “You need some help getting home?”

You nodded softly, and grabbed his free arm when he offered it to you, so you would be better covered by the umbrella — and closer to him. Mickey was warm, probably because he hadn’t been standing outside in the cold like you had been doing. It actually made you pull impossibly closer to him, to feel the warmth and stop being cold. If you had looked up at him to check if he was okay with the proximity, you would have found Mickey smiling as softly as ever, comforted by your easygoing attitude.

“Why aren’t you in your dorm already?” You asked, not wanting the walk to be an awkward, silent one.

Mickey shrugged his shoulders. “I was taking a walk. You know, calming down and stuff”

You hummed, understanding what he was saying. Mickey had been in an odd mood lately, and he had snapped during the morning, bickering with Hallie about something you hadn’t paid so much attention to due to your Film Theory homework. Him storming out of the cafeteria had been the only thing that had made you look away from your paper, both confused and curious. Hallie looked too angry to ask her anything, and Derek’s eyes had promised telling you what had happened later, but he never did. Sidney and him had a date, and you had been too busy with helping Randy to choose some films to think about what had happened. You had only remembered the incident after Mickey’s answer.

“If you need to talk I’m here, okay?” The words left your mouth without you thinking them twice. You didn’t need to, however, because it just made sense. Friends were there for you whenever you needed them, or they were supposed to. “You’re my friend”

Mickey looked away shortly before flashing you with a well practiced smile. “I know, Y/N”

Once again you hummed, and you allowed the silence to settle between the two of you. As much as you didn’t want silence during the walk, you couldn’t force a conversation on him, and it actually turned out not to be as awkward as you had imagined. Mickey’s aura just kept it from being awkward.

By the time you arrived at your residence hall, the rain had calmed down a bit and changed to a slight drizzle that bothered more than soaked. It was ironic thinking that, if Mickey hadn’t been there to walk home with you, you could have just waited a bit more and come home by yourself. You were still grateful he had decided to take the route he had taken.

You held the door open for him to come inside the building, knowing he wouldn’t have plans for tonight and would rather just stay in his dorm. Mickey thanked you with a smile as he closed the umbrella, and stepped inside with you.

“Um…” You played mindlessly with your hoodie’s sleeves. “Should I worry about you, Altieri? You seem off”

That was by far Mickey’s brightest smile since you had met him. It actually confused you to see him smiling that hard when he had been so weirdly silent, but you smiled back at him. There was just something about him that set you in a good mood whenever he wasn’t making you nervous.

“You definitely shouldn’t.” He assured, nodding his head as a thank you.

“Then I’m going to, uh,” you pointed at the hallway to indicate you were going to leave. Mickey smiled “Yeah. Night, Y/N”

“Night”

You waved at Mickey before turning around. You hadn’t even taken the fifth step when you heard him take a quick step into your direction. “Y/N, wait!”

“Yeah?” You turned around in your heels, tilting your head to the side as you watched Mickey. You saw him hesitate for a second, like he shouldn’t have said anything. “Mickey?”

Mickey scratched his neck and laughed under his breath, nervously. His confidence shattered for those seconds, before he looked back at you with his characteristic, charming smile.

“I wanna take you out on a date,” Mickey said, surprising you. Your eyes must have widened, because he chuckled shortly. “Is that so weird to you, Y/L/N?”

You scoffed, thinking his joke wasn’t funny at all. That made him raise an eyebrow, which shed doubt into you “Like, for real? A date, date?”

Mickey smiled like you were hilarious. “Yes, a date, date,” he mocked, and you felt the heat rush into your cheeks. “What’d say? Tomorrow morning at the cafeteria?”

Crossing your arms, you licked your bottom lip before letting your teeth nibble at it. You stared at him like he would eventually crackle up, saying it was a joke. But he didn’t, because it wasn’t. “Um… yeah, sure”

“It’s a date, then.” Mickey finger-gunned you as he started to walk towards the other hallway, without turning away.

“A date,” you repeated, nodding. A smile slid into your lips. “Yeah”

#mickey altieri #mickey altieri x reader #mickey altieri fic #scream #scream franchise #scream 2 #scream (1997)#fluff #mickey altieri fanfiction #timothy olyphant #he's so fine though #nom nom slashers #slasher fic #writing #my writing

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jj-hayes · 1 year

Text

PINTEREST BOARD || CONNECTIONS

CHARACTER INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Jacob James “JJ” Hayes

FACECLAIM: Ben Barnes

GENDER: Cis-Male

PRONOUNS: He/Him

AGE + BIRTHDAY: 36 + August 20, 1986

LENGTH OF TIME IN FAIRFORD: His whole life

HOUSING: Coral Coast

OCCUPATION: Attending Pediatric Surgeon at Elite Wellness Collective

PERSONALITY: Positive Traits - Caring, Responsible & Family-Oriented. Negative Traits - Stubborn, Pragmatic & Competitive.

DIGGING DEEPER

“What’s it like, living in Fairford? Did you ever picture yourself settling down here or did you always know this would be your home?”

There is a pause in JJ’s step as he ponders his answer to this question. His brows furrowed in all seriousness as he tried to fathom his thoughts in regards to how he feels about his hometown. Where could he even start? What could he even say? How could he possibly describe how much he loved this town? “It’s… home.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, the squint in his eyes bringing out the crows feet that were barely visible; he really was getting old, wasn’t he? “My grandparents moved out here in the fifties in hopes of settling down, and starting a family. I mean, it was mostly because Granddad got a job as a doctor here at the hospital, and Nana was just tagging along. But they made it work somehow. They had my dad, and then my aunts… they saw this town for what it was, a great place to raise their kids. I think they really enjoyed the suburban life, if I’m being honest. I mean, of course they did. It was the fifties.” A laugh, and he shakes his head. “It was the same with my dad though. Even though he moved away for college, he always saw himself coming back to Fairford, working at the same hospital where Granddad had worked for decades. He met mom in college, and managed to convince her to move here… so there’s that. I’d say that the love for this town runs in the family.” Not that there was much to be ashamed about that. “Me? Unlike my father, I decided to stay home for school. Seattle U for Pre-Med, and then University of Washington for med school. Seattle wasn’t that far of a commute from Fairford, and I lived at home… saved a lot of money, and I lived off of mom’s cooking..” He admits with a soft chuckle. “I liked being home. It made me feel safe. I don’t think I can complain.” Of course, there had been many instances when JJ could have left Fairford for good. But he could not see himself leaving this town; it held a lot of history, and he had strong emotional ties to it. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else, if I’m being honest. I never wanted to leave. I’m happy to be a third generation medical professional being employed by the Elite Wellness Collective, and… I live by the coast, so that’s always fun. A really nice view of the beach. Plus, now I get to raise my daughter in this town… let her make her mark on it, just like the rest of us Hayes’.”

“If you could recommend one hidden gem around town everyone should try, what is it? What makes it so special?”

JJ stifles a yawn before he brings his hand to rub at his eyes–bloodshot, a sign that he had not been getting much sleep lately. “There’s this little nook between the bookshelves at the far end of the National Memorial Library… it’s between the history book section, and the newspaper archives. Best place to take a nap.” He cannot help the chuckle that escapes his lips as he says that, and he takes a rather generous sip of his coffee from the travel mug in his hand. “I’ve taken quite a lot of naps there when I was a med student… late-night studying sessions, exam season, you know how it is. But now I’m a full-time surgeon, and a single father to an eight-month old, so sleep is just… non-existent.”

“What’s your family like? Are you still close, or have you blocked all their numbers?”

“Where do I start?” The hearty laugh that bubbles out of his lips is loud, and he shakes his head before he lets out a sigh of what seems to be contentment. “Us Hayes’ are a tight-knit bunch. Of course, there’s mom, dad, and CJ–Connor James, my kid brother.” He points out, followed by a nod of his head before he runs his hand through his hair. “After Granddad and Nana passed away, my dad stayed close to his three sisters–my aunts… and with them came my uncles, and so many cousins.” It was true. Though the Hayes family tree was not as large as any one of the ten founding families of Fairford, their branches were widespread. “But of course, I have to mention my family’s newest addition–Amelia Jane Hayes, my adoptive daughter.” The smile on his lips becomes wider when he brings up his daughter. “Being a single dad, I don’t think I could do it without my family’s help… They've supported me through this whole adoption process, and I’m so happy that Mia gets to have such a big, loving family.”

“We’ve all had our fair share of shit hit the fan and moments in the sun — tell me about a defining moment in your life, good or bad.”

A sigh escapes his lips as he recalls the moment that changed his life forever, though a smile finds its place across his features soon after. “The day I met Mia–the day my entire life took a turn for the better. Eight months ago now. It was a typical day at the hospital, you know? I had been working since dawn, and I had just gotten out of surgery. I was paged down to the Emergency Room for a consult, so I went down there, as one does… and there she was.” JJ could not deny that the day had been etched into his memory, and he shook his head as the scene of the wailing infant being rocked in the arms of a firefighter played in his head. “Her birth parents had left her outside of the fire station–a safe surrender, they call it. The firefighter brought her into the ER to get her checked out. She was less than a week old at the time, and one of our ER doctors found a heart murmur. They had me come in for a surgical consult, and of course–I operated on her heart. She’s a fighter, my little Mia, even then.” “Since it was a safe surrender, there was no point in looking for her birth parents. Besides, it was impossible to find them… it could have been someone visiting, or passing through Fairford for all we know.” He explains with a shrug of his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter though. The state assigned a social worker as her legal guardian for the course of her stay at the hospital, and then she was meant to be put in foster care.”

“But after her surgery, I noticed that Mia was all alone in the NICU. She had no visitors, no one to sit with her… no loved ones to care. Just a state assigned social worker who could not give a crap. That wasn’t so fair, was it? So, I started sitting with her whenever I could. I sat with her every night for two months, whether I was on call, or not, I was always at the hospital. I was just watching her… holding her hand, talking to her, singing to her. I just didn’t want her to be alone, you know?” Another smile appears on his lips, and though it was small, it was genuine nevertheless. “I think that’s when I knew… I just knew that I was meant to be Mia’s dad.”

“It’s the little things in life; tell me three things that bring you a great deal of joy or put a smile on your face.”

“Three things that bring me a great deal of joy…” JJ pauses again for a moment to gather his thoughts. “Surgery, that’s a big one. I love seeing the little kiddos I’ve helped thrive once they leave the hospital. Mom’s cooking… of course, no need to explain that one. And the third thing that brings me joy? I mean… Can I say Mia? I’ll say Mia. She’s my little bundle of joy.” And if that smile on his lips says anything, it was that his daughter really was his little bundle of joy.

BIOGRAPHY

It all started in the summer of 1953, when Dr. Conrad Hayes, and his wife Betty-Jane Hayes packed up their life in the Big Apple, and moved across the country to Fairford, Washington. Dr. Hayes had just landed himself a job at the local hospital in town, and had not been sure at first if his wife would agree to the cross-country move. But Betty-Jane had always dreamed of having a small town life, and felt that the move would be right for them as they were about to start their family.

Conrad, and Betty-Jane settled down in the suburbs of Fairford, and had four children. Ronald, the oldest, had followed in his father’s footsteps to become a doctor as well–a neurosurgeon, to be specific. He left home at eighteen to attend Columbia University–Conrad’s alma mater. There he had met the woman who would eventually become the love of his life. Celia Dumont had moved to New York with big city dreams of her own–go to college, become a doctor, and fall in love. Thankfully, her dreams had all come true when she had met Ronald Hayes in her first year human anatomy class, and the rest was history.

Just like Conrad, and Betty-Jane had left New York to settle down in Fairford, their son Ronald had brought Celia to his hometown that summer in hopes that she would also want to raise their family there. Needless to say, Celia had fallen in love with this town from the moment she had arrived. She was putting down her roots after agreeing that they would live there after they married. Between applying for the residency program in obstetrics, and gynecology at the local hospital, and planning her wedding with the help of her soon-to-be mother-in-law, and sisters-in-law, it was only a matter of time before she had managed to see Fairford as her home. It was where she wanted to get married to the man of her dreams, and have a family of their own.

Ronald, and Celia married that following summer in a rather intimate ceremony, and settled down in the suburbs of Fairford–just a short walk away from Conrad, and Betty-Jane’s house. They had put off starting a family until the end of their residencies, considering that they had both been keen on getting their careers to a good place before having any children.

Jacob James “JJ” Hayes was born on August 20, 1986–the third generation Hayes to call Fairford his home. He had been loved so dearly by his parents, his grandparents, and his three aunts. He could not have asked for a better family than the one he’d got.

JJ’s childhood had been one that could only be described as idyllic. Despite the fact that he had been raised within the walls of a hospital, loneliness had never been his well-known companion. As a toddler, he was adored by all of the nurses who worked at the hospital. They all knew him as Conrad’s grandson, or as Ronald, and Celia’s son–either way, they saw him as one of their own, and passed him around from one to another whenever they were busy, and keeping an eye on him. He never bothered them when they were working though, oftentimes sitting behind the reception desk, and coloring. A well-behaved kid, they had called him. He felt right at home at the hospital, even then.

By the time JJ had started school, it had become clear that he was quite the studious kid. He excelled academically, whether it was the second grade spelling bee, or the fifth grade science fair. He was winning prizes here, and there, and getting straight A's in all of his classes. The Hayes', and the nurses, could not be more proud of him.

He had also spent most of his time after school in the Pediatrics Ward, playing with the patients there, and keeping them company as they battled whatever illness that had landed them in the hospital. While he could not entirely understand the struggles that were faced by the friends he had made, he had wanted to help them feel better somehow. Not that he had ever thought about what he might want to do in the future–despite what his parents, and his grandfather had done–but he saw it as a possibility. Helping children–little did he know.

But JJ’s childhood had not been entirely spent between the walls of the school, and the hospital. His weekends were spent riding his bike around the town with his cousins, and his friends. Riding from his parents’ house, to his grandparents’ house, and then to each of his aunts’ houses. Playing basketball in the driveway, and breaking several windows in the process; having all of his cousins congregate in his bedroom when his parents had gifted him a stereo system. His childhood had been spent with lots of love, and laughter.

JJ was fifteen years old when his parents had sat him down one day, and told him the news that would forever change his life. They were having a baby. A surprise pregnancy as a result of the trip they had taken to celebrate their twentieth anniversary. Of course, JJ did not particularly mind that little detail. He had been old enough to understand that his parents had loved each other even after all of these years, and knowing that he would be having a younger brother after being the only child in the family for far too long… he could not wait to be a big brother.

While he had initially panicked about the timing of CJ being born–JJ would be leaving for college soon, and he did not want to leave his parents alone with a baby to raise in their forties–he could not convince himself to go to Columbia like his grandfather, and his parents had done. He wanted to stay close to home, to be a part of his brother’s life so that he could teach him all of the little things he could–crawling, walking, riding his bike.

JJ decided to stay in Fairford, living at home while he attended Seattle University for his undergrad in biology, and then the University of Washington for medical school. Of course, he knew that he could have left town if he wanted to. But life in Fairford had been far too kind to him, and he could not imagine leaving all of that behind. His grandparents had moved to this town in order to have a home, and his parents had done the same. He could not see himself giving all of that up.

After graduating from medical school, he completed his residency in Pediatric Surgery with the Elite Wellness Collective–working as a doctor in the same hospital that raised him, alongside some of the doctors, and the nurses he had known since he was a baby. His parents could not be more proud.

Now at thirty six years old, JJ works as an attending pediatric surgeon, and lives in a lavish beach house by the coast. A self-proclaimed workaholic who also has a reputation among his cousins for being chronically single (and dodging all of their attempts at matchmaking), his whole life changed when Mia came into his life. While he had always believed that he could not hold down a relationship–he was a full-time surgeon, and his patients would always come first–he did not think he could ever find someone who would understand his need to focus on his work. But he had not felt so discouraged about being a father. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d had such a loving, happy family life that he had been so certain about giving his adoptive daughter the same. And so far, he had not been wrong about that choice he’d made.

While the Hayes’ time in Fairford had not been as long as the founding families, they had still made their own marks in the town that they now called home–four generations in.

#fairfordintro #about jj

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artisvns · 2 years

Photo

❃ ↷ ˊ- pelican town is all abuzz about SUN JUNHEE, our resident 25-year old VET TECH ASSISTANT. you know, the one who looks like JUNG YOONOH (JAEHYUN)? i don’t see it, but maybe that’s just because they remind me of NAPPING & FORGETTING THE WORLD UNDER SUNBEAMS, THE FEELING OF DEEP DIVING INTO UNKNOWN WATERS, AND LOOKING UP AT THE STARS IN HOPES OF SOMETHING MORE every time i see them at SUNSHINE ANIMAL HOSPITAL. word around town is that they’re increasingly TENDERHEARTED and ASTUTE, but can get rather SELF-DESTRUCTIVE. hope to see them around the valley soon!

ღ hello cuties !! i’m KLEE, ( she/they, 21+, est ) and i’m here to introduce my bebe JUNHEE, an animal lover & vet who radiates the biggest golden retriever energy you’ll ever see ! he’s a remix of many muses pulled into one where he’s trying to accept his fate as something else when he wishes he could be something else. under the cut you’ll find more info on him and if you’d like to plot, please like this post and i’ll hit you up asap ! ( discord is available upon asking ! )

☀️ BACKGROUND ⸻

read his profile HERE !

TL;DR ⸻ this is the story of how a young boy has been trapped in his hometown by his weak-willed heart, who follows everyone else’s wishes of him despite longing to be discovering the world and viewing it with his own eyes instead of through photographs. he has accepted that fate current roots him to stardew valley, though he hopes one day he can develop the courage to stand up to his parents who’ve set his future in stone.

25, cancer sun / aquarius moon / virgo rising, he / they, born & raised in pelican town.

his family owns and operates sunshine animal hospital, and they help with aiding the locals’ pets and their farm animals ( if they have any ).

he’s always wanted to leave pelican town and travel the world… but his parents have set him up to eventually take over their family business with no room to debate. he’s currently trying to accept his fate but it’s so hard when he sees others coming & going all the time.

initially wanted to be a musician, but he’s lost hope for this dream and has turned it into more of a hobby. no longer sings, bc he’s not confident enough to try anymore, but he plays guitar for the lil animals he gets to care for ♡

he is an only child, which is the primary reason why his parents are so set on having him take over sunshine animal hospital when they retire. he was interested in the idea when he was a child — who can really blame him, working with cute animals for the rest of his life was a dream ! — but now that he’s older, the idea has lost a bit of its lustre.

studied & graduated from the university of stardew back in 2019, although he’s qualified as a veterinary technician, he is usually his father’s right-hand assistant as opposed to working on his own. when he’s out doing work with farm animals though he’s def by himself and able to show off his knowledge !

junhee really loves his work, so much to the point that he absolutely will not stop until someone is pushing him out of the doors. sometimes work genuinely doesn’t feel like actual work to him, but then there are other times when he wants to just get as much as he can done without any regard for time.

once he passes out he’s out for a good ten hours ! luckily for him, his parents aren’t the type to ignore his health — it’s purely self-sabotage. you’d think for someone who studied medicine he would be more careful, right?

when he isn’t working, he frequents local cafes, the beach, and the community center ! he’s always down for fun and good vibes, which what he considers the best reward after working super hard all week.

he likes meeting new people and hearing about their hometowns !! he may not be able to travel but he likes listening to all the stories anyone is willing to share ( a great listener btw, always super engaged ! ). he keeps a notebook of places he’d like to visit with little notes on what others have told him about these places so he doesn’t forget why he even wants to go there.

he has two adopted pets, a 3-year old orange tabby cat and a 2-year old black labrador retriever. he adopted both of them for his 24th birthday a year ago, and the three of them have been lowkey inseparable ever since? it’s not uncommon to see him with both of his pets just out and about ! doesn’t usually keep them on leashes ( especially since his cat sits on his shoulders ) mostly bc they’re obedient and friendly, but has them on him just in case someone asks him to.

he’s kind of a shy individual but warms up very quickly to people if the vibes are good. he’s an easy-going type of person who typically follows a crowd but unexpectedly has a fighting spirit if his friends need one ( yet does not fight for himself, a whole other conversation tho ). he’s very protective of those around him and very good at comforting people if anyone needs a shoulder to cry on (✿◠‿◠)

there’s probably more that i’m missing but he’s still kinda newish despite being a remix of all my recent Lost Boy-esque muses in one but i’ll figure it out along the way !!

☀️ SCUFFED PLOT IDEAS ⸻

the platonic soulmate, best friend, ride or die, whatever you wanna call it … basically his #1 and there’s no one he trusts more with his life but them !

i love just having more close friends, either friends separately or they’re considered a #certified_squad within pelican town ♡ kinda like ‘where there’s one, the others aren’t far behind’

i think an adventure buddy would be cute ??? he seems so stuck up since he’s a workaholic but he will always be down for walking around aimlessly with a friend ♡

a classic and typical exes plot … could’ve ended horribly for whatever reason or ended amicably !! he’s completely non-confrontational so ig the worse the situation the more he would avoid them like the plague … but imagine a situation where he can’t avoid them like while he’s working lmfao ( not limited to one muse btw i just didn’t know how to word it )

kinda separate from the exes plot but his first love / kiss / whatever ♡ could’ve been a love from his teen years when they were in high school ( puppy love UwU ) or a love from his early adult years where they’re both more mature ♡ he probably doesn’t have feelings anymore but the affection will always be present !!

speaking of uni, anyone who has attended the university of stardew between the years 2015-2019 could’ve met him there and formed some sort of relationship with him … but what that relationship is is completely up for plotting.

um hello roommate or roommates maybe ??? he moved out of his family home after graduating uni so they could’ve been roomies for a couple years already or they started living together recently ♡

fellow night owls / midnight gremlins … they always see each other late at night either bc their shifts end super late or they simply cannot rest at night. they’ve fallen into a routine where they’ll either go out for food together or stay in his apartment for the majority of the night and just chill~~

i can’t think of any more with details to add but other ideas include: cousins / grew-up-like-siblings friends, people who have pets / livestock who see him regularly/semi-regularly as he is a vet, fellow cat/dog owners who want their babies to have playdates ♡, work out buddy, someone he doesn’t get along w for whatever reason, past pen pal(s) who decided to visit pelican town … also vv down for brainstorming ♡

#stardewtm:intro #i. ╱ 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 .#the only thing i changed abt him was the fact that hes now an only child lol

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acechudro · 2 years

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On Gender Euphoria, Anime Girls, and Fashion as a Non-Binary Person from South Carolina

When I was around seven or eight I would go swimming in the local pool fully clothed. I remember sitting on the side of the pool, waiting for the life guard to end "adult swim" so that I could get back into the deep end and resume my training to reach the dark depths at the bottom of the pool where all the dead leaves were.

The whistle blew, and I was back in business.

“You still have your clothes on!” another kid pointed out. They must have thought I’d forgotten.

“I know,” I said, comfortable in my own skin, comfortable in my gender presentation.

What was the big deal with that particular outfit? Why did I love it so much that I also wore it swimming? Back then, I didn’t have words. I just knew that a girl’s style bathing suite didn’t feel right and going in just shorts no t-shirt was off limits. And that that outfit was like magic. Wearing that t-shirt and shorts from the boys section made me feel like who I enjoyed being.

WHAT IS GENDER EUPHORIA?

Not until about ten to fifteen years later would I begin to hear the term “gender euphoria” used to reference how certain clothes, haircuts, and even body modifications can make you feel that same thing I felt in my favorite outfit that summer. You feel great. You feel like you. And when you become more yourself, you feel amazing, you feel EUPHORIC!

Why do we feel this? I’m sure someone has a scientific answer. But I’d say it’s because we are being our true selves, the selves we came to this earth to be, the selves that have a place in the great divine dance, the great divine game. We’re no longer fighting the flow of life, and we’re not swimming upstream or forcing ourselves into a role that was never ours to play. Instead, when we honestly become the person our beings and our divine DNA ask us to be, we experience “oneness”. We are one with the universe, god, and the divine. We are divine. We are whole.

Maybe you’ve had that experience through meditation, prayer, plant medicine ceremonies, or psychedelics, and you know what I’m talking about. Being at one with the universe is highly euphoric, and it give the seeker a great depth of peace. Anxiety melts. Everything is right. Everything is in order. And “it” is all unfolding how it is suppose to unfold.

That summer, wearing my favorite outfit felt like magic. I felt like the hero of my story. I felt like my ideal me, and I felt at peace and complete.

It’s funny because recently another gender-non-conforming buddy from my hometown told me they used to do the same thing at the swimming pool. I didn’t know them back then, but knowing them now, it makes a lot of sense.

FASHION AS PROTECTION

In those days, I was lucky to have a lot of freedom from typical societal expectations. We were homeschooled, and my mom wanted to raise us like “free range chickens” she says.

No school meant no dress code and less time studying because you didn’t have to do “busy work” to fill the day or wait on other students to understand a concept before moving on to the next topic.

I could run around without a shirt or shoes, explore the woods around the neighborhood, and spend summer nights outside playing games and spying on the neighbors. My bothers and I got into everything, tried everything we could. Each day was a new adventure and we made the most of each one.

But at some point around seven years old, (which funnily enough is when developmental psychology claims a child can begin to choose their gender presentation), my parents began to place gender limits.

Suddenly I had to wear a shirt and I couldn’t wrestle with the neighbor boys. It just “wasn’t right”, my parents explained. I was still invited to go on hikes, but less and less would I be allowed to go on overnight camping trips. Again, it just wasn’t right, me being the only one in the group socialized as a girl sleeping near all those boys. Not long after, my mom presented me with a bra. Again, I didn’t understand it, but it was “just necessary” for some reason. I cried and cried. I hated it.

Here’s the thing. Before my parents began to socialize me as a separate entity from my brothers, as a girl, we all did the same thing.

We all learned to shave our faces with my dad. We all dressed up in glittering body suites and played ballerinas. We all saved up for camouflage and played army. We all played with my mom’s red lipstick as war paint. And my older brother dressed up as a bride and married a neighbor boy in a ceremony we held while rolling down a hill on skates and rollerblades. Dressing in what I would later come to know as “drag” was no big deal. We were absurdly creative and nothing was off limits.

Until we reached a certain age and social expectations set in.

Back then, my parents were trying to protect me with their ideas of what a girl should look like. Fashion is protection. If you present right, society will treat you right. And if you’re a girl, that means dressing the part so that one day a man will want you bad enough to ask your father to let him have you, and your father will give you over and all that preparation will come to a culmination and the girl will have her means of survival— marriage.

We lived in South Carolina, a placed referred to as the “buckle of the Bible Belt” due to its high concentration of churches and religious communities. And our community had a cult following of a man name Bob Jones with rules like no “interracial dating”, no physical contact between separate sexes, and parents must disown their child if the child came out as gay.

And things like getting a job as a non-conforming person? I doubt it was happening there back then.

So as much as I blamed my parents for the drama of being forced to put on a female costume whenever we went to something social, in retrospect, my parents were doing the only thing they knew how to do to keep me safe in that world— they used fashion as a form of protection.

But those skirts, dresses, and blouses had me feeing vulnerable and frustrated. And only when I could wear my soccer shorts and t-shirts or any of my other favorite outfits did I feel safe and at home.

THE “MIDDLE YEARS”

After eight years old, things got intense. Lots of crying and stress over clothing and gender roles.

This stuff gives me mixed feelings to write about. I still struggle to not feel angry or ashamed and I hate it when my mom sends me pictures from the days when we all had to dress “correctly” for society like the days we went to church. I have smiles in the pictures because we had to smile. And I had longish hair for more time than I wanted to because I was afraid to cut it as short as I wanted to (I would find the courage I later on).

I have shame thinking about my teenage years because I was so often afraid or shamed for my body or just being who I was. I’m ashamed that I “gave in” but being a kid, I didn’t really have a choice. So I fought it sometimes but had to keep quiet until I moved out. I disassociated and survived, disconnected, unable to be my dream self.

Obviously I still made friends and found ways to enjoy myself, but interactions with my parents felt strained and volatile, especially the interactions with my mom who was tasked with enforcing female socialization standards.

My mom doesn’t understand why I still feel hurt over being forced to wear girly clothing. I think I felt humiliated and punished by it. My freedom to be me was taken away and I was criticized for not fitting the female stereotype required in the area I grew up in. That weighs on you when you’re confronted with it multiple times a week for several years. You get scared to be seen because at any time you could be breaking some rule or hidden expectation without knowing it. My body always felt clenched and stressed, and my posture became that of someone hiding. There were moments of escape, but generally I felt a fear of being judged and my body internalized it.

I’m sure I was brave in a lot of ways, but looking back makes me cringe. And here I am looking back. Cringe.

Ok, back to the timeline.

EVERYONE LOVES ANIME GIRLS

Up until the age of eight, I wore whatever my brothers wore. We were a family of hand-me-downs and thrift stores, so I had the same jeans, the same hoodies, the same Umbro soccer shorts as my brothers. There were a few “little girls t shirts” too, but there were simple shirts that literally any body could have worn. Nothing too bad about that. No dysphoria.

My mom did force me to wear some extremely uncomfortable frilly dresses to church and painful sweaters that were too tight for my head, but “beauty is pain” she’d say and rules were rules. Girls had to wear long dressed and skirts to church. It wasn’t a matter of choice.

But if I wasn’t at church, I was learning to read at the kitchen table or playing games outside— all in my “normal clothes”.

But at age eight, it came time to socialize me as a girl and my mom had to look outside the house for female clothes. We went to department stores in looking for two or three female passing outfits. My mom felt pressure to not be judged by her child’s appearance, and the whole experience felt forced and humiliating.

First of all, nothing in the teen girls section was loose fitting enough for the religious rules. And the boy’s section was off-limits. So my mom eventually found the “petites” section which is what they call the “old ladies section”. This demographic was short enough to fit a kid and conservative enough to pass within the groups we belonged. So after lots of frustration and crying, we bought two colors of short kaki pants, and three button down shirts. They were OK…. Not too tight, not too girly, but not really what I wanted either. Just OK. And annoyingly cut for a woman.

Probably a year after that, my sweet grandma took me shopping and apart from the boys section being off-limits, I could pick whatever I wanted. I got some camouflage cargo pants which I wore every day till I outgrew them, and two polo shirts with surf writing on the back of the collars. Much better than the old lady clothes.

When I was thirteen, I began shopping for myself at the Goodwill thrift store. It was easy to get what I wanted at a price a thirteen-year-old could afford. I began picking out my own clothes and no one ever questioned it. My mom was busy with my brothers, so she’d gladly drop me off and let me do my thing. Plus she didn’t have to take me shopping anymore.

There I discovered that my wardrobe fit into three separate categories: “normal clothes” , outfits I saw boys wear, and outfits I’d seen anime girls wear. I also found camisole undershirts that were popular back then and they flattened my chest, it was nice.

No one questioned my “normal clothes” because, well, they looked normal on me. Androgynous and different from popular culture, but normal on me. Plus being homeschooled, well most of us didn’t have cool clothes so it was normal to be abnormal.

The boy outfits I rarely wore out of my house or the woods, only for occasions like hiking trips, the skate park, or my short bout with the Civil Air Patrol (I wanted to join the air force back then lol, free army uniforms, a sense of belonging, adventures, air planes, and travel duh).

And the anime girl? I mean, if you have to present as a girl, that’s the best way to do it. Tight zip-up shirts, flare pants, hair up with little pieces falling around the face. Everyone loves anime girls.

Wearing girl outfits was always far more exhausting than the “normal clothes”. Why? Because being around people is a show, an act in society, and I felt forced to play a girl way too much. It got old fast.

If I didn’t have to be around people, I’d just hang out in my room or in the woods, alone often, away from rules and social codes. I could be whoever I wanted to be.

And the church outfits? Those became an act too. They had to be long skirts, so I found long hippy clothes at head shops and also made some. People complimented them because they’d never seen clothes like that before in those circle in South Carolina.

I also had this really cool pineapple outfit that we had custom made because stores didn't sell clothing that was long and loose for church. It was a long straight “jumper” style dress made from green pineapple fabric, then a white collared shirt underneath, and this hand bag I found that was actually just a pineapple. I kind of wish I still had it for those moments I want to "cross dress", but honestly I'm not sure I'd be ready to wear it again, as I had to to cross dress so often as a kid.

CROSS-DRESSING

Whenever I wear an article of clothing that is “very” gendered, I feel like I’m cross dressing. And back then, I felt like I was cross-dressing a lot. I was cross-dressing in my church clothes, cross-dressing in my “teenage anime girl” clothes, and also cross-dressing when I’d wear two sports bras to flatten my chest under a t-shirt and those cargo shorts the boys would wear back then.

It was weird having to cross-dress so much, and as we didn’t talk about things in the family, my survival technique was mainly centered on dissociation and smiling. Just get through it so you can return home, take off the costume and spend your time on more important stuff like making art and movies, building forts in the woods, and figuring out how to run an electric scooter through the under ground tunnel below our house.

By that point, I knew clothing was costuming. And being a Leo sun, wearing costumes came naturally. But it was also exhausting. I have a Piscis moon, which means that more than anything I crave a deep connection and understanding with the collective. I just wanted to wear something that wasn’t too colorful, not too tight or body focused, and would let me exist without having to pretend to be a “man” or “woman”. I felt tired of the game at times.

Cross-dressing is fun when you get to choose to do it, but it can be exhausting when your survival depends on it.

HIGH SCHOOL RULES

In my high school years, I finally went to school and learned a new set of social codes. It was a religious school run by the same cult entity Bob Jones. And the dress code was very rigid and binary. Girls had to have long hair, long skirts, loose tops, high necklines, and for special occasions, tights and hoes on their legs. All from the women’s section of course.

Boys had to have an extremely short haircut, shave their faces, wear button up shirts, dress slacks, and for special occasions, ties and suite coats. We were not allowed to wear graphics on the clothes, or have references to punk, emo, or rock and roll. And when skinny jeans became a trend, the one boy who wore them was called a fag and the administration quickly outlawed the fashion.

What’s funny is that even in this world of entirely un-cool clothing, there were still social signifiers in that fashion bubble that let people know exactly how cool you were, which group and social class you belonged too, etc. I’m proud to say people started wearing colorful hippy skirts after my first year there. I was so weird people thought I was cool.

Anyway, art, fashion, imagination, and movie nights were my survival.

I focused on good grades and the fun of finally having a live audience. I made crazy outfits, tried public speaking, made friends with other “unsocialized” kids, and sang the Canadian national anthem in the shower with my new bestie after Physical Education class.

There was so much injustice inside that world, it just wasn’t worth fighting openly. I rebelled in secret ways and smiled at the administration.

BOY OR GIRL?

I finished high school in my third year as a hybrid student: half the time homeschooled, half the time in a community college. I could wear whatever I wanted that last year.

Strangers at the community college asked if I was a witch. The neighbor who rode to class with me asked why I had to dress so weird. My mom said I looked like a lesbian so I avoided seeing her in the mornings before class. I dressed really cool, and I know other people thought so and sometimes said so. But annoyingly, people love to point out what's different. I liked fashion. I wanted to be me. And I wanted to fit in… but those things didn’t seem to go together. I would make these awesome outfits but then be afraid of being seen.

Time passed.

In college there was no real dress code and I settled on a mostly black wardrobe influenced by what I’d seen Europeans wear in the fashion blogs I followed. Easy enough.

I discovered H&M and got myself a cool fake leather jacket there. I had black skinny jeans and a collection of simple t-shirts under which I wore flattening sports bras. All good.

One time I wore a skirt to class and everyone said it was like the kilt Kanye West had worn on tour. This time, my peers understood I was cross-dressing.

As college was ending, I sold my things and bought a one-way ticket to Europe. I would leave South Carolina for good and travel until I found a place that felt like home. There I could develop into my true self away from the eyes of former friends and family.

Of course, moving locations didn’t really fix anything.

But something did happen pretty early on into my travels that changed my trajectory. I “fell in love” with a queer man who would later tell me he was born with three chromosomes, XXY, meaning he was actually both male and female. Intersex. And that as a teenager he was forced to choose between becoming a male or female, as being neither was not a choice back then.

People have always asked me if I was a boy or girl, and I would usually say, “I don’t know”. In this case, when he asked me and I said “I don’t know”, he then asked me if I was trans. I didn’t know what that was. I just thought that some people changed their bodies to become one of two genders and that was called trans. I panicked.

No, that isn’t me! I’m not currently changing my body.

Later, I would become curious and go to Reddit to learn all about top surgery, hormone replacement therapy, and the experience of transitioning to a different gender. I felt called to it and read everything I could. I did my best to pass as a boy for the next several years, or at least, not pass as a girl, and I did want top surgery, but I didn’t feel comfortable fully transition to a man. I just wanted to be less woman.

INTUITION

I changed my name a year or two later upon returning to the US because I wanted something less gendered. I would later change it two more times trying to settle on what felt right, doubting myself, and then trying again.

I eventually began to understand that being Non-Binary is also a gender, and that some people just don’t identify as male or female. And that yes, this is trans too. I read that trans just means you don’t identify with the gender assigned at birth. It doesn’t mean you have to become a man or a women. My experience began to make a little more sense.

I learned there were more people out there like me. That you could choose a new name that felt better, and choose clothes that made you feel good, and that neither identifying as what society calls male nor female is actually pretty cool. Gender euphoria is a good thing, not a guilty pleasure. And feeling at home in and embracing your experience connects you to the divine, despite everything I’d been raised to believe.

I learned that I was normal, and that there was a long history of non-binary, trans, and queer people holding honored roles in society before the Catholic Church tried to wipe them out (this happened around the same time they went killing the powerful women known as witches, and during the colonization of America and other continents).

I’m becoming braver. I’m still scared of people seeing me but I also enjoy having an audience, so, I force myself to be seen and heard and to make steady eye contact. I am becoming braver and happier and more myself. It’s scary but the changes make my life better so I keep going, finding oneness with the world. Finding allies helps and I can’t wait till interactions with my family aren’t so uncomfortable. I’m trying to be good about explaining to them what they need to know and being patient while they digest something they’ve never heard of.

Despite everything I’d been brain washed to believe, I have always known who I am. And lead by my intuition, I’m on an adventure to become more and more that person. Not only do I owe this to myself, but I owe it to the world as a whole. This is my contribution and the universe is on my side.

I know who I am, at least on a basic level. And that knowledge grows as I keep going. I’m not an outsider, I’m actually an integral part of It All and I can become one with the world by being me, not who I think they want me to be.

My gender non-confirming buddy tells me they’ve always known me as someone living outside the gender binary. Which tells me that I am my own harshest critic, as I still struggle with judging my past self for not being “myself” enough. And I still struggle with feeling proud of myself. It’s scary to leave behind the comfortable confines of shame and guilt. But I’ve always been brave and I’m becoming braver. I’m learning to become proud of myself for being me, and this whole process is slow but they say you gotta enjoy the process because it actually never ends. There is no “final result” until we die. So I try to let go of my grip on the outcome and instead find fulfillment knowing that I’m on the right track.

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whatib · 7 months

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Who are we?

I was raised a Catholic. The Jews killed Jesus was bashed into my skull for 12 years of Catholic school. As a kid you can only learn from what other people tell you, and the rumor was that Jews are bad people. Aye aye then the internet came along and you learned things that you never saw before. You also became an adult and met Jewish people, and all kinds of other people outside of your hometown. Then I married a Jewish woman. When I went to her uncle's funeral in Fargo North Dakota, I sat in the front row with her family in the synagogue. I saw a beautiful place. A Temple of God, and so similar to the church I frequented as a boy. When we stood up to leave the Temple at the end of the ceremony, I turned and saw the Temple full to the rim, standing room only. As we exited the Temple I looked out over a Sea of People. It looked like thousands of people came for this man's funeral. Three fire engines were there and a dozen police cars. The crowd stood in prayer with the family as we walked out. ( I wasn't even married to Lisa yet, and I felt ashamed to be walking in the presence of such a great family, I didn't deserve it. I was just a stupid gentile) When we arrived at the home of Lisa's Aunt, I watched and listened as the family spoke about her Uncle and sat Shivah. I watched and watched. The Love in that home was beyond anything I experienced with my torn divorced family of me, my sister and my mother in our tiny apartment. My lonely home of strife and alcohol, and hate. Back on that day in Fargo I remember finding a spot on the stairs and looking over the living room(being their home was so full of people)…and they said a Hebrew prayer that made me cry the same way I'm crying as I write this….I watched and listened….I learned…I was in the presence of God's Chosen People…I was listening to the same prayer that was spoken by Jews for THOUSANDS of years…I was humbled…I was ashamed to say I was a Christian….I felt I followed a cheap knock off of the Original Religion that began when the Earth and Universe were created…I shook as I stood there, I bowed my head and asked God to Forgive me for all of the doubts I ever had towards the People of Judea. The Jewish People are God's Chosen People, the Matriarchs and Patriarchs of Humanity. They Created the World we live in. They taught us how to build a loving family, how to work hard, how to enjoy life, how to worship God, the Earth, the Universe and/or whatever you may believe in. They gave us the 10 Commandments and they taught use how to Live. We should be grateful that they are here in our presence.

Since then, 1999…I'm still not too big on Christians. My wife and I went to a church in Texas in 2008 when we visited one of our employees. I have a funny feeling the Pastor knew we were there because he made it a point to say "The Jews Killed Jesus!" during his sermon, and he said it as loud as he could. We knew it was aimed at us, but couldn't leave at that point, so I grabbed my wife's hand and we stood tall. I know not all Christians are like that. And we all know that not every Jew is the perfect Jew. Every race, creed and color has bad players. It's just how life works. But we all want to be Jesus don't we? Whether he was a real person or never existed, the story of Jesus, who was a Jew, is a compelling story that gives us guidance, and hope for the future of humanity. So in his eyes, the eyes of a Jew, we all want to be Jewish. We want to be good people, with good hearts, who work tirelessly, who will literally give you the shirt off their back if you ask them.

I saw it with my own eyes just last week. A Jewish lady visited our candle shop for special needs individuals. She had the most beautiful earrings on. The Columbian woman who works at the shop said "What beautiful earrings you have" and the Jewish woman immediately took them off and handed them to Alba. I said to myself…"that's where the saying comes from!"….I couldn't believe my eyes…

We all know that the world is struggling. We know we can all do better, we have been better…we don't have to become Jewish, but we can respect one another regardless of religion…and leave each other be, in our ways of worship or ways of Life…we are one People, all from the same place…Earth…the Bible told many good stories and bad, but it did mention kindness….being kind to one another is all it takes

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 3 years

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Crisis Redo #2

Kara shakes her head dumbly, covering her sudden nausea with a faint smile. "Sorry, no. I guess not."

"Oh. Okay." Lena stands there stiffly, and the moment soon grows uncomfortable.

Realizing she's in the way, Kara steps further onto the sidewalk. "Sorry."

"That's okay," Lena says obligingly. She hesitates before stepping through the door. "Well, have a nice day."

"You too."

But Lena's already inside, heading for the end of the line, the door swinging shut behind her.

---

She couldn't do it. She couldn't drag an unknowing Lena back into the mess their world had become. Not when in those few fleeting moments, Kara could see how much lighter Lena was, how unburdened she was.

It doesn't mean that Kara doesn't continue looking for her, though. That night she opens up Facebook and looks at every Lena she finds listed there, going down the list for days and days until she finally sees Lena's face in a profile picture.

Her name is Lena Walsh.

The account is set to private, but Kara is still able to see a series of profile pictures, one including a middle aged woman who looks strikingly like Lena. Her mother.

Lena is an adult in the picture, happily grinning with her cheek pressed against her mother's. Their arms are wrapped around each other and their stance is so easy, so comfortable, that Kara knows that this is the Lena that might have been, if her mother had survived. If Lena had never been taken by the Luthors.

This is Lena. Without the heartache, without the manipulation, and the lifetime of trauma that had hardened every inch of Lena's emotional exterior.

Kara is also able to glean a hometown from Lena's account, readily available despite the privacy setting. Now armed with a name and location, Kara is able to tease out the rest of Lena's new life.

A childhood in Newfoundland, then her teenaged years in the suburbs of Metropolis. Lena was valedictorian of her high school class, and won a full ride to a prestigious university, where she studied a plethora of subjects and eventually graduated with full honors and a degree in... medicine.

Lena is a doctor-- a small town doctor in the pacific northwest, where she lives with her mother in a quaint home registered as a wildlife sanctuary. Kara finds news clippings from local newspapers recognizing Lena's work rebuilding her communities local bee population, about her delivering a baby in a barn when a nearby trainwreck had tied up the local emergency services.

Kara notes that she finds no wedding or birth announcements. As far as she can tell, it's just Lena and her mother, living peacefully out of sight.

So Kara leaves her be. As hard as it is to be without Lena, shattering Lena's tranquility would be even more devastating.

Months more pass, until one day the Superfriends learn that Lex is trying to revive Project Non Nocere. There's only one person on Earth who might be able to stop him. Only then does Kara reveal that she knows where Lena is.

Desperation and the insistence of the group drives Kara to fly out to the small PNW town where Lena's home and practice is. When she walks into Lena's practice, she finds her long lost friend in the middle of freshening up the single exam room after a patient.

Lena freezes at the sight of her.

Kara takes a deep breath. "Lena, I'm--"

"Supergirl," Lena breathes.

Surprised for a moment, Kara looks down at herself, forgetting that she hasn't changed out of her costume. She grimaces internally, but keeps her features fixed in a neutral expression. She looks back up at Lena.

"Sorry," Lena continues quickly, "but I don't think there's a single person on the West Coast who doesn't know who you are."

Kara nods solemnly. "That's all right."

Lena swallows audibly, her eyebrows drawing together in hesitation. "Um... why are you here, exactly?"

Taking a deep breath, Kara steps forward. "There is a great threat facing National City," she delivers with a calm she doesn't quite feel. "And I need your help to stop it."

Lena blinks. "My help?"

"Yes. I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss the matter any further here. If you'd come with me, I can explain everything back in National City."

Lena's face shifts from confusion to shock to disbelief, then finally settles into a dismissal. "Look, I don't know what kind of joke you're playing, but regardless, I can't just leave. I have patients--"

"You won't have any patients to treat if you don't come with me, now."

It's a half truth. The threat Lex poses is quite real, and could very well result in a disruption even in this small town. But it isn't as urgent as Kara makes it sound. She could sit down and wait, explore the town and come back when Lena is done for the day, but she can't. She can't sit here and watch this Lena treat her patients with gentle hands, or bear witness to the life she's made here.

It would be... unbearable.

Lena senses the truth in Kara's voice, or perhaps her desperation. After a long moment, she exhales. "Let me inform my nurse she'll need to reschedule the rest of my appointments."

It doesn't take long. Lena sheds her white doctor's coat, revealing a cozy turtleneck sweater and plaid slacks that hug her legs and tuck into sensible boots. She reaches for her keys, then hesitates.

"Oh. I suppose you don't intend to drive to National City."

Kara gives a soft smile. "No."

Carrying Lena is both intimate and not. She can smell the pine in Lena's hair, hear the thundering of her heart, but Lena's arms are desperately tight with fear, without the trust of knowing Kara won't drop her.

Lena looks a little green around the edges when they land on the Tower balcony, but regains her footing quickly. Kara ushers her inside, to where the others all way. It's quiet as Lena descends the stairs, all eyes wide and fixed on her. Lena sense the attention when she reaches the main floor and pauses, uncomfortable under there focus, before looking back up at Kara.

"Everyone, this is Lena Walsh. Lena, this is... everyone."

Alex is stiff with distrust, but Nia has no such qualms. In moments Dreamer is stepping forward, wrapping her arms firmly around Lena. "We've missed you," Nia murmurs.

Lena hugs her back awkwardly, confused and nervous. Brainy then steps forward.

"I, too, am glad to see that you exist," he delivers plainly. "It has been most vexing working without a comparable mind to commiserate with."

Lena blinks. "I... don't understand."

Kara steps up to stand beside her. "I know." Then, "I'm sorry."

J'onn steps forward, his features solemn. "Allow me to show you."

He doesn't wait for Lena's permission before reaching out and pressing his fingers to her temple. Kara shifts uncomfortably, taking Lena's hand in hers. She argued against this. For days, she'd proposed other options, anything that would allow them to preserve Lena's world. But none worked.

Whether Lena wanted to or not, she had to remember the reality before.

Jonn's process is quick and effective. When he finishes, Lena stands there, eyes wide and filled with tears. Then she blinks, and her next breath shudders her entire body. Her hand yanks free of Kara, then quickly lifts to stem the flow of tears that spill down her cheeks.

Kara swallows nervously. "You... you remember?"

Lena doesn't respond. For a long moment, she buries her face in her hands, her shaking shoulders the only sign of outward emotion. When she finally straightens, Lena's tears are mostly dry and she glances at Kara with a sharp gaze.

She remembers.

"Take me to my mother."

Kara nods. Moments later Lena is in her arms again, and this time she's stiff with a clear desire to be anywhere else in the world. But she endures the flight back to the country, to the quaint cottage tucked behind a yard filled with wildflowers. As soon as Kara's boots touch the ground Lena scrambles free, stumbling through the painted white gate with patent desperation.

"Mom? Mom!" Lena calls sharply. She all but runs through the twisting path towards the porch. The screen door opens, and a diminutive woman steps out.

"Lena, honey? What's--"

Her concern is swallowed up when Lena all but barrels into her, enveloping her in a desperate hug. Elizabeth Walsh jolts in surprise, but soon melts to return the embrace.

"What are you doing home so early?" Kara hears Elizabeth ask. "Did something happen at the practice?"

Lena shakes her head no, but doesn't speak. She can't-- not unless she wants to betray the tears coursing down her cheeks. Elizabeth doesn't pull away, not even when concern creases her features.

"Lena, sweetheart..."

Finally, Lena straightens, composing herself with a quick swipe at her cheeks. "Nothing. Everything's fine. I just.... needed to see you."

Kara looks away. Thinking of the hologram she once had of her mother, she suddenly feels like she's intruding.

"Do you and your friend want to come inside? I can make some tea..."

Lena shakes her head, clearing her throat. "No, mom. Sorry, but-- that's part of the reason I'm here. I have to go to National City for a few days. A friend of mine needs help."

Kara tries to ignore the way her heart lifts hopefully at being called a friend.

"I'll be out of touch for a while, so I-- I just wanted you to know."

Elizabeth smiles, but her concern lingers. She senses something is wrong, but doesn't give voice to her doubts.

"Okay. Just be safe, sweetheart. Let me know if you need anything."

Lena nods, her chin quivering. "I will. I promise."

She retreats then, her lips pressed tight together against further tears as she leaves her mother on the porch and returns to Kara. For a long moment, Lena doesn't say anything. Then, her chin lifts and anger shines up at Kara from shining green eyes.

"I'll never forgive you."

Kara understands that this time, Lena doesn't mean the secret that drove them apart, or her treatment following Kara's discovery of Non Nocere. She means this-- the loss of a life untouched by heartache.

Kara nods.

"I know."

#supercorp #crisis redo #lena is a doctor #think virgin river #she wants to help people #but on a small scale #the kind of scale where people call each other by their first names #and are agreeable to lenas occasionally holistic approach to medicine #like... she believes in chemo for cancer and aloe for sunburn #that sort of thing #and yes she occasionally prescribes things out of her garden #which is not a euphemism #shes a small town modern witch doctor #which the superfriends do not know yet #but yes elizabeth has her magic and has trained lena

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nochuvalencia · 3 years

Text

𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk

I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi

⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have

“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.

“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.

“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.

You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.

Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.

He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.

After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ‘I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.

You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.

You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.

“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.

A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.

It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?

You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.

He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.

It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.

So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.

A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.

+82 2 2263 5950 : whose car is in our parking spot?

+82 2 2263 5950 : did you already move on?

+82 2 2263 5950 : wow whore

You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.

me : it’s my car asshole

me : bought it with the money u left me

me :thx baby <3

+82 2 2263 5950 : what money?

me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck

+82 2 2263 5950 : don’t use that money

me : why should i listen to you?

me : you aren’t my bf

+82 2 2263 5950 : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u

me : already did bye babe

You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.

Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..

And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.

This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”

You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.

“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.

“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.

“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.

And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.

“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.

“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.

“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.

“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.

“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.

“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.

“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.

“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.

“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.

Yummy as fuck.

Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.

“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.

“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.

You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.

+82 2 5284 8735 : don’t try to run

+82 2 5284 8735 : we’ll hunt you down little dove

“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.

You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?

You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.

me : i’ll take your offer

me : this is ____ btw

You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.

+82 2 5284 8735 : i know who you are

+82 2 5284 8735 : i'll be there in 20

+82 2 5284 8735 : be ready sweetheart

Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.

In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.

You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.

“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.

“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.

“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.

“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”

You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.

“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.

“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.

“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.

“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.

You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.

Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.

It was huge.

You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.

Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.

“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.

You were wrong. He noticed immediately.

He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.

“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.

“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.

He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.

“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.

“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.

He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.

“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.

“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.

“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.

You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.

“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.

He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.

“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.

After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.

You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.

“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.

“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.

You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.

“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.

When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.

#bts #bts smut #bts fic #jeon jungguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #oneshot #mafia!bts #mafia!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #mafia au #GUNPLAYHAHAHA #IM SUPER EFFED UP #this took sooooo long

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myherowritings · 4 years

Text

order’s up!

— Osamu gets a big order of some rather strange rice ball combinations an hour before closing. He doesn’t expect that he’d find the customer who ordered to be so damn cute.

pairing: miya osamu x reader word count: 2,387 genre: fluff, post manga timeskip

a/n: first haikyuu fic and aHH it was so fun to write ,, i didn’t expect osamu to be my first but here we are and tbh i am not mad~ ;) FJSDHKJ hope u enjoy!!

“One unagi onigiri to go-- Your order’s ready!”

A middle-aged man stood up from his seat at the waiting area and headed over to the counter, thanking Osamu for the fresh onigiri and making brief small talk. As the man left, Osamu looked at the customer next in line, thankful there was only one person in here so close to closing time.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he stated when your gaze met his, lips quirking up to give his best customer service smile.

You nodded with a warm smile of your own before looking down at the phone in your hands, murmuring what he thought sounded like “salmon, plum, beef, extra green onions, heavy on the seasoning.” Now, he liked to think there were no rules to onigiri, but part of him did hope you wouldn’t ask for all those ingredients in one gigantic, imbalanced rice ball. Maybe you were reciting a large number of individual orders.

He shrugged. Money was money, and all onigiri was good onigiri when made with his special Miya love. Miya love that was specific to Osamu in particular, of course. Atsumu could never recreate it even if he tried-- Not that he ever tried. The day he tried in something other than volleyball would be the day Osamu said he was the worst onigiri chef in Japan.

In other words, never.

Osamu hustled over to the cash register and you took that as your cue to step forward, hands fidgeting with your wallet and cellphone.

He smirked to himself in silent amusement. A shy one, were you? By now he had lost count of all the nervous and fidgety costumers he had gotten at his shop, but to allow them to stay that way simply wouldn’t do. If his patrons weren’t 100% comfortable in his care--well, as comfortable they could be in an onigiri shop--it meant he was doing his job wrong.

As the owner of Onigiri Miya he wanted to make sure every customer would leave with a smile and a desire to come again soon. That was how he built rapport and got so many regulars after all.

“I can take your order whenever you’re ready,” said Osamu in a slow pace, encouraging you to slow your rhythm as you tapped your fingertip restlessly against your protective phone case. Were you in a hurry? You seemed rather antsy, but he went on. “There’s no rush here.”

There was less than an hour until closing and he figured you would be the last customer of the day-- Meaning there was no reason not to slow down. As much as Osamu appreciated how lively his hometown could be, he also enjoyed quieter moments like these.

Not everything had to be so loud. Not everything had to be moving so fucking fast all the time. And he learned that in some instances, he could just control the pace himself.

Your worried chatter brought him out of his musing. “Are you sure? Because I know you close soon and I really didn’t want to come in so late but the guys are still down over a loss and said this was their favorite comfort food,” you said, eyebrows furrowed in a tell of concern. “It’s kind of a big order, so if you need to start cleaning up for closing I can just go to another store-- Sorry for imposing!”

He blinked. He thought he just said there was no rush to imply he wasn’t worried and you shouldn’t be either, but you didn’t seem to pick up on that.

“Hey, you’re not imposing,” Osamu soothed, somewhat alarmed at your apprehension. “You said someone was down over a loss? You on a sports team?”

Losing sucked. Osamu knew this firsthand.

Sure, in hindsight it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but while it could sure feel that way sometimes. If it was bad enough, it could take a few days to really get over and grow from it. So hearing that Onigiri Miya was someone’s comfort food that could help cheer them up on days like those… That certainly gave him reason to puff his chest up a little more.

“Yeah! Well, kind of.” You moved your head side-to-side as if unsure of your answer. “I help assist the volleyball team at my university. It’s my last year in school and I’m sure all of the other fourth years are bummed too.” Catching the small frown on your face, you stopped yourself before it spread, clearing your throat. “But it’s okay! At least we all had fun. And now they’ll be getting some of their favorite food to cheer them up-- If you’re still taking orders, that is…?”

He nodded. “‘Course I am.” Osamu flashed you a grin intended to make your worries disappear. “What kinda store owner would I be if I couldn’t make your team their pick-me-up food?”

The two of you shared a look before you tore your gaze away, biting your lower lip to hide your smile.

“Thank you, then,” you murmured, unlocking your phone to what appeared to be a notes app.

Osamu picked up his pen with a short hum. “Ready to take your order when you are.”

“Right.” You stared at your screen in concentration before listing off what you had written. “Can I have three salmon onigiris with green onions, two umeboshi and mentaiko with light seasoning and ginger, one tempura and unagi with green onions and sesame seeds and heavy seasoning, two…”

As he noted your orders, some arguably stranger than others--not that he should be one to judge, what with his own peculiar preferences--he made a mental note of how cute your voice sounded and tucked it away in the depth of his mind. Was cute the word for it? He wasn’t exactly sure, but he guessed that sounded okay enough. There was something about hearing you talk that made Osamu want to hear more, even if it was just a list of onigiri ingredients.

He huffed. Weird.

When you finished he repeated back your order, affirming it was all correct.

“Great, so I’ll be with you in about 15 to 20 minutes with your order ready,” he informed as he held the paper with the dishes he had to make. “You can have a seat at one of the tables ‘til I return.”

You nodded at his words but hesitantly opened your mouth. “Erm-- Wait!”

He looked back at you, mere steps away from the cooking area.

“Is it just you working at this hour?” you asked, standing with your hands folded behind your back as you craned your neck.

“Yeah, we don’t get many late customers on a Tuesday night so I’m the only one closin’ today.” Osamu gave you a curious once-over. Bright eyes, nervous yet playful smile, cute outfit-- Damn, he sure was using the word cute a lot today. All in relation to you nonetheless. “Why?”

“Are you sure the order isn’t too big for you in this hour?” Once again, you were fretting. He reckoned he ought to teach you some relaxation techniques and tips of how to be less...selfless. “Do you need some, uh, help?”

The corner of Osamu’s lip twitched upwards. Help? What were you planning on doing if he said yes? Learn the basics of food safety and onigiri-making in less than 20 minutes so you could assist him in making your order?

Something told him that was, in fact, what you were ready to do.

Cute.

“Stop stressin’, sweetheart,” he said with a tsk, not bothering to hide his amused grin. “I’ve handled bigger orders than this. You just rest your pretty little head and I’ll be finished before you know it.”

Though you still looked concerned, you nodded and sat down, probably figuring you would be more of a hindrance in his onigiri-making flow than anything else.

“Don’t miss me too much-- And don’t even think of saying sorry or anythin’ like that!” His tone was teasing but he meant what he said. You were a customer at Onigiri Miya and he wanted no patron of his to be worrying this much if he could do anything to help it. “The store’s still open and I’ve no issue taking your order. ‘Kay?”

You blinked. “Okay. I… Thank you, uh, Miya-san.”

“Just Miya’s fine.”

“Right. Miya. Thank you.”

He sauntered off into the kitchen to get started with your order and as he went through making your onigiri, he hoped you wouldn’t still be feeling bad about a big order that wasn’t even that big compared to others he got. Besides, you had already paid for the order. There was no point worrying after the transaction went through.

Osamu soon made his way down the list of rice balls and, just like he promised, popped his head out of the kitchen along with three, full takeout containers in record time.

“For the cutest customer here tonight-- Order’s up!”

You perked up at the mouthwatering smell of his onigiri, pressing a hand to your stomach as you hummed. “I’m the only customer here tonight, but since your food smells so yummy I will choose to let that comment slide.”

Holding the bag of takeout in front of his, Osamu smirked at your surprisingly steadfast composure. You didn’t get flustered at his unabashed compliment like he thought you would, and for some reason that made you seem even more appealing.

As you accepted the order, he quipped, “Only customer here or not, you’re still the cutest.”

You wrapped your fingers around the handle of the takeout bag, the edge of your pinky brushing against his thumb. “Hmm, then-- I guess you’re definitely the cutest worker here tonight, even though it is by default.”

Osamu laughed, both in amusement and in happiness after finally getting you to feel comfortable in his shop.

“A compliment’s a compliment and I’m not above being the cutest by default,” he said with a lazy drawl, watching as you set the onigiri bag on the counter in front of you while easing into a conversation with him.

“As if you would ever have to win by default. You seem much too handsome and talented for that.”

It sounded like you were flirting. Were you flirting? He noted the mischievous glint in your eyes and the way you lingered in the store instead of leaving once you received your order.

Yeah. You were so flirting.

“Cute.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing.” He smiled secretively but wouldn’t expand on what he said despite your questioning look.

You narrowed your eyes. “Sure, okay then.” Your fingers wrapped and unwrapped themselves from the handle of the to-go bag, like you didn’t want to leave just yet but didn’t know what was left to say. “Well-- Um, thank you for the order! I’m sure this’ll cheer the team right up.”

“And you as well, I hope.”

“Of course. I haven’t even tasted it but it already has.”

Just being here already has, is what you seemed to say. Osamu rather liked that implication.

“But… I still feel kind of bad for ordering all this so close to your closing hours,” you said sheepishly, rubbing the side of your neck like it had a knot. “I’m sorry.”

Osamu waved his hand at your words. “Please, what do you have to apologize for? Making me do my job?” he asked cheekily, his sideways grin showing teeth. “You shouldn’t feel bad.” He noticed the way you brought your lower lip into your mouth with uncertainty and he continued, “But if you still do...there is a way you could repay me and soothe those worries.”

You looked up, eyes widened. “How? I’d do anything.”

Dangerous words coming from such pretty little lips.

He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, unintentionally bringing your attention to his forearms. “Let me treat you out this weekend, yeah?”

Your gaze followed his hands as you nodded. “Yea--” You blinked to snap out of your daze and he stifled a laugh. “Wait, wait! Shouldn’t I be the one to treat you?”

“What kinda gentleman would I be if I were to ask you out on a date and tell you to pay?”

Maybe Atsumu would’ve made his date pay for their meal and activities of the day, but Osamu wasn’t him. Osamu had class.

“A date?” you parroted. “As in one with me? And you? Together?”

There wasn’t anyone else in the store he could be asking. Nope, just you and your awkwardly cute self.

Osamu nodded in affirmation. A date is just what he was asking you out on. “Well, only if you want, of course.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to contain the wide smile that threatened to spread across your face. “I wouldn’t mind a date with the cutest worker here tonight,” you teased, looking around the store before meeting landing on his face. “I still want to be the one to treat you, though. It’s the least I could do.”

As happy as he was that you didn’t reject him, he didn’t give. “Don’t worry about treating me-- Your company’s a better treat than money could buy.” You snorted at his pickup line and Osamu silently cursed his brother for saying that line would always work. And then cursed himself for believing it. “Look, I’ll pay. I insist.”

“I insist too.”

You held each other’s gaze, neither one wavering. He seemed to realize you weren’t going to give in, but he wasn’t planning on it either. He huffed, shaking his head, entertained. “Okay, then. How ‘bout we rock-paper-scissors it when the day comes?”

“Fine by me,” you laughed, hiding the bottom half of your face with your hand. He wanted to hold it in his so he could see the full smile you were covering, but Osamu decided he could save that for another time. “But don’t think you’ll have an easy win! I’ll have you know I play a mean game of rock-paper-scissors.”

“‘Course you do, sweetheart.”

And he didn’t doubt that at all.

As strange as the orders were and as nervous as you may have been at the start, Osamu found himself rather fond of you. Was working overtime worth it just for a date with a cute costumer?

Yeah, he decided. It was.

a/n: y/n’s vball team waiting for their comfort food after a bad loss while y/n and osamu are just there flirting after hours: 👁💧👄💧👁

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #hq x reader #haikyuu #haikyu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fluff

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sternbilder · 3 years

Text

Buried Stars 1 Year Anniversary Tweets

The official Buried Stars Twitter just posted new art + character info for the 1 year anniversary of the game's release! Basically, it's a series of hand-written "about me" questionnaires by the TOP 5 (+Seil) as well as personal messages to each other. Full translation below!

The characters also leave cute commentary on each others' answers, so here's some color-coding for your convenience: Gyu-hyuk, Juyoung, Inha, Do-yoon, Hyesung, Seil. (For some reason some of Hyesung's comments are written in red while some are orange; likewise Seil's comments come in both green and dark teal. At least, I *think* these are just Hyesung and Seil based on what I can tell from the handwriting; i.e., I don't think red and orange are two separate characters, etc.)

Spoiler-free, but putting under a cut for length:

Let's Talk About Ourselves

Gyu-hyuk (link)

Name: Lee Gyu-hyuk

Hometown: Seoul

Former Occupation: University Student

Blood Type: A

MBTI: INFJ

Nickname: Gyu?

Date of Birth: 1992.10.03

Height: 180kg*

Weight: 80kg

Specialty: I don't really have any in particular

Hobbies: Reading, sleeping

Habits: I rest my chin on my hand

Top 3 Likes: Peace and quiet, that feeling of just understanding each other without having to say anything, the smell of old books

Top 3 Dislikes: Excessive silence, arguments, the smell of hospitals

Motto in Life: So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.**

A Person I Respect: My father*** (HS: Oho dayumm)

A Recent Worry: Being on stage is terrifying, but at the same time I also enjoy it, so I don't really know how to feel.

The TOP 5 Contestant I'm Closest To: Han Do-yoon (IH: Gyu, what about me T_T)

My Rival in the TOP 5: Youngie noona

My Best Physical Feature: My eyes...I think (IH: I vote shoulders)

When I'm Happiest: When I'm on stage and I experience that sort of wordless "connection"

When I'm Saddest: They say that the human brain feels sadness as its default state.

Who I Want to See Myself Become: A self-assured and confident person

Goals for This Year: Gaining confidence in myself through Buried Stars

What I Want to Say to Myself 1 Year from Now: That was the first step forward. You worked hard to get there.

A Message for the Viewers: It's my hope for all of you out there to be able to get to know who I am.

*He does actually say 180kg, not 180cm. Hyesung teases him about it in the replies. 😆

**This seems to be taken verbatim from the Korean translation of The Great Gatsby.

***I'm feeling a lot of emotions at how tiny and strained his handwriting is here 🥲🥲🥲

Juyoung (link)

Name: Min Juyoung ♡

Hometown: Gwangju!

Former Occupation: Singer Part-time worker...

Blood Type: O

MBTI: ISFJ

Nickname: Youngju

Date of Birth: 1991.7.12

Height: 160cm

Weight: 5? ^o^

Specialty: Vocals, dancing

Hobbies: Collecting electronics

Habits: Touching the ends of my hair?

Top 3 Likes: Family, music, training

Top 3 Dislikes: Rumors, lies, hot weather

Motto in Life: The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world.*

A Person I Respect: All those who managed to debut and rise to the top

A Recent Worry: Whenever I notice a mistake, I don't know whether I should address it, or just leave it be...

The TOP 5 Contestant I'm Closest To: Inha❣️ (IH: Wahh~ Unnie... ♡)

My Rival in the TOP 5: Hm... Gyu-hyuk? .. Sowwy T^T (GH: It's an honor!)

My Best Physical Feature: The curve going from my shoulders down to my back! (IH: ♡)

When I'm Happiest: When I have a glass of beer after a hard day of practice? (IH: Great taste as always)

When I'm Saddest: When people judge me only based on what they hear others say

Who I Want to See Myself Become: Someone who doesn't falter or fall down even when things are hard...Like a tree!

Goals for This Year: 1st place in Bstars!

What I Want to Say to Myself 1 Year from Now: I just knew you could do it!

A Message for the Viewers: I gathered up my courage so that I can make my comeback. I hope you all continue to support me❣️

*This is a direct quote from Demian by Herman Hesse, which is a fairly popular novel in Korea.

Inha (link)

Name: Oh Inha~

Hometown: Busan

Former Occupation: Dancer

Blood Type: B

MBTI: ISFP

Nickname: O-Mart -_-

Date of Birth: 1994.11.29

Height: 164cm

Weight: 56kg

Specialty: Dancing, beatboxing

Hobbies: Dancing, weight training

Habits: Putting my hands on my hips?

Top 3 Likes: Dancing, the stage, the sound of the crowd cheering

Top 3 Dislikes: Freezing up, feeling frustrated, gossip

Motto in Life: Trying anything is better than not trying at all

A Person I Respect: ✨Min Juyoung-nim✨ (JY: Wow~)

A Recent Worry: The gap between who I am on stage and who I am off stage

The TOP 5 Contestant I'm Closest To: Youngie unnie ❤️ (JY: Inha ur mine 2 ♡)

My Rival in the TOP 5: Myself? (HS: omg)

My Best Physical Feature: I feel like I look good in anything because I have a nice figure LOL

When I'm Happiest: That moment when I'm on stage and the crowd bursts into applause

When I'm Saddest: I can't really think of anything in particular

Who I Want to See Myself Become: I'm still looking for the answer

Goals for This Year: Being able to just stand tall as just me, Oh Inha (HS: It's not like you're lying down or anything?)

What I Want to Say to Myself 1 Year from Now: You finally figured it all out!

A Message for the Viewers: I can't be 5th place just because my last name is Oh, right? Let's aim for 1-Inha! (GH: In that case, am I 2nd place?)*

*The number 5 is pronounced "oh" in Korean. The number 2, and Gyu-hyuk's last name Lee, are both pronounced "yi."

Do-yoon (link: 1 2 3)*

Name: Han Do-yoon

Hometown: Daejeon

Former Occupation: Bandsman

Blood Type: A

MBTI: ISFJ

Nickname: ....

Date of Birth: Born September 5th '94

Height: 177 centimeters

Weight: Mid 60s

Specialty: Writing lyrics/Composing/Bass

Hobbies: It's going on walks

Habits: Thinking alone

Top 3 Likes: Bass · Music · Going out to eat

Top 3 Dislikes: Isolation · Uncertainty · Being hungry

Motto in Life: Nothing is impossible if you put your mind to it (HS: Are you saying you’re gonna lose your mind?)**

A Person I Respect: Geddy Lee (SI: Looks like you’re the only one who wrote down a real answer, hyung)

A Recent Worry: The fact that I get too lost in my own head when thinking alone

The TOP 5 Contestant I'm Closest To: It's tough to pick just one person (GH: omg T_T)

My Rival in the TOP 5: I see everyone as both a colleague and a rival (HS: Spoken like a true you-know-what..)***

My Best Physical Feature: The heels of my feet (IH: I've never even seen those...)

When I'm Happiest: Whenever I feel like I accomplished something to my standards

When I'm Saddest: Whenever I feel like I can't do anything right

Who I Want to See Myself Become: Someone with a stable mind (JY: You can do it!)

Goals for This Year: Figure out what it is that I truly want to do

What I Want to Say to Myself 1 Year from Now: Were you able to reach the place where you were hoping to be?

A Message for the Viewers: My hope is to show you all so much of what I have to offer. (GH: Go get 'em!)

*One really funny detail is that Do-yoon is the only one who posts all 3 images in separate tweets, presumably because he doesn't know how to upload multiple images in a single tweet.

**This one is tricky to translate. Do-yoon says 정신일도 하사불성 (jungshinildo hasabulsung), which is an idiom that comes from the Chinese characters 精神一到何事不成. I /think/ what happened is Hyesung, who is not the most book smart character, didn’t recognize the saying and misinterpreted what Do-yoon meant as 인사불성 (insabulsung, lit. “becoming unconscious”). The first part of the saying “jungshinildo” sounds phonetically similar to a phrase that means “losing one’s consciousness”, and both phrases end in the syllables “-bulsung,” hence the confusion.

***He actually says ㅂㅅㅈ (BSJ), short for 배신자 (BaeShinJa) a.k.a. Betrayer.

Hyesung (link)

Name: Seo! Hye! Sung!

Hometown: Incheon~

Former Occupation: Unemployed T_T

Blood Type: A! B!

MBTI: ESFP

Nickname: Phater Star ⭐

Date of Birth: April Fool's Day

Height: Mid-170s*

Weight: 62kg

Specialty: Cute acts

Hobbies: Acting cute

Habits: Putting my hands in my pockets

Top 3 Likes: All of you ❤️, y'all ⭐, you all 🌷

Top 3 Dislikes: Patronizing people, stubborn people, being ignored

Motto in Life: ⭐⭐CAREPE DIEM⭐⭐ (IH: LOLLL he spelled it wrong and then crossed it out LOLLL)

A Person I Respect: People who succeed no matter what happens to them?

A Recent Worry: What do I need to do to get my rank up? (GH: Let's do our best!)

The TOP 5 Contestant I'm Closest To: Do-yoonie 'ung!** (JY: I thought u were gonna say meee)

My Rival in the TOP 5: I feel like I might catch some flak if I say it? LOLOL Gyu-hyukie hyung LOL (IH: ?)

My Best Physical Feature: My starlight-filled eyes 🤩 (IH: omg..)

When I'm Happiest: When I get complimented (JY: Here's me complimenting you~)

When I'm Saddest: When I get ignored

Who I Want to See Myself Become: A confident person

Goals for This Year: 1st place in Bstars‼️

What I Want to Say to Myself 1 Year from Now: To think you achieved this much...You're amazing!

A Message for the Viewers: Who's gonna be #1? The one who comes in like a comet, Seo! Hye! Sung!***

*Incidentally, his official height is listed as exactly 170.

**Seems like he's slurring "hyung" here.

***"Hyesung" is a homophone for "comet" or "meteor" in Korean.

Seil (link)

Name: Chang Seil....

Hometown: Ansan

Former Occupation: FD

Blood Type: AB

MBTI: ESFP, or so I'm told

Nickname: I don't have one

Date of Birth: 1995/02/24

Height: 168

Weight: 52

Specialty: Nothing special...

Hobbies: Music appreciation

Habits: Fixing my glasses?

Top 3 Likes: Good music, going home after work, days off

Top 3 Dislikes: Brainless people, things being in disorder, working overtime

Motto in Life: Breathe in and receive wel wealth, breathe out and receive health* (IH: Me 2)

A Person I Respect: I guess I'll say PD Shin, huhu... (HS: You little traitor)

A Recent Worry: I'm losing my mind at the formations being all messed up as a result of switching to a different stage

The TOP 5 Contestant I'm Closest To: What's even the point of a staff member forming these kinds of unnecessary personal attachments... (HS: Right you are)

My Rival in the TOP 5: I think this is a question for contestants only

My Best Physical Feature: I don't know I don't have one (DY: Your eyes...?)

When I'm Happiest: When our shows get good ratings?

When I'm Saddest: When people criticize the staff? (JY: Gasp T_T)

Who I Want to See Myself Become: At the very least, I hope tomorrow is a little better than today

Goals for This Year: Wrapping up Buried Stars with no issues

What I Want to Say to Myself 1 Year from Now: Wow another year older huh~~~

A Message for the Viewers: I wish you all would do a better job at standing in line...

*I’ve not heard this saying before, but based on a quick Google search it seems like it’s typically an expression of blessing or gratitude, so said to someone else (i.e., “may you receive health/wealth as easily as you breathe,” etc.)

What the Top 5 Think of Each Other

Gyu-hyuk

Han Do-yoon: Hey, Gyu-hyukie hyung. It’s me, Do-yoon. (SI: It says your name in the box, you know….) Whenever I see you on stage I feel nothing but admiration. I sense this deep sort of resonance, you know...I’m sure that resonance comes from something you’re creating deep inside of you. I find myself cheering you on just like a viewer, wondering just how far you’re gonna make it. Well anyway, I hope you have a good day. Bye! (GH: Write some more T_T)

Oh Inha: Gyu! I saw you put Do-yoon as the contestant you’re closest with, I thought it was me…?! LOL (HS: Just face the facts LMAO) Thanks for not getting mad when I call you Gyu LOL. To be honest, I was scared of you. You’re 1000x more gentle than you seem on TV, do people know that about you or no?

Seo Hyesung: Phew...The godly silver spoon..All us have-nots can do is cry. At least, that’s what I thought, but since your skills kick ass too I can’t even say anything. How does it feel to have it all? But y’know, if ever I say something that’s taking it too far you can tell me off. (IH: In that case then he’d probably have to say something every time you breathe) Sometimes I can’t get a good read on what you’re thinking?? (GH: I’m thinking about you)

Min Juyoung: Gyuhyuk, where did you even come from! Even I, who already debuted once, can’t help but be filled with admiration whenever I see you on stage. You’re so talented but at the same time so humble...But being too humble is also a bad thing. You know that, right? I want to know what you’re thinking about when you sing. I know we’re competing against each other, but still, I want us to be better friends!

Chang Seil: Please just pretend this box is blank. Anywayz, hyung, you’re truly the star of the show when it comes to Buried Stars. PD Shin was shocked just reading your application. Of course, you had the skills to back it up after, too. I’m curious to see how high you’re gonna rise up. (HS: You just heard from music critic Chang Gun-mo*)

*Not sure if I read his handwriting right, but I think this is a reference to renowned singer-songwriter Kim Gun-mo. Obviously, Hyesung is poking fun here.

Juyoung

Seo Hyesung: You’re pretty, you sing well, and you’ve got a nice personality. You’re a triple threat, noona! If only we hadn’t met as competitors, I would have come on stronger. 2 bad. You already debuted once, so I can count on you to help out your poor maknae, right?? (IH: Are you kidding me with this)

Oh Inha: Unnie, you are so so lovely and admirable…So much so that I feel smaller every time I look at you. I know we only met as fellow competitors in an audition show, but I hope we can keep being friends. You make me want to act like a better person than I am.

Han Do-yoon: Youngie noona! It’s me, Do-yoon. You changed so much that I didn’t even recognize you at first, but I realized it was you soon enough. It was so cool of you to come back to give it another try, and whenever we practice together I can’t help but be motivated by you. Hope today is a good day for you. Thank you very much! (HS: What, are you trying to cheer her up or something)

Lee Gyu-hyuk: Based on my first impression of you, I was surprised at how strong-willed you are. I’m more used to accommodating others, so I guess I don’t really know what you think of me. If it’s possible, I’d like to be more like you...I think I might even go as far as to call you my role model (?) Was that too out of line?

Chang Seil: Again, I’m not really sure why they're making me write these, but… (HS: If you don’t want to write them then don’t) Juyoung-ssi, you’ve got tremendous ability. In your case, during your original debut, your concept actually did a disservice to your level of skill. If you just maintain your current status on Bstars, you’ll easily rise to the top of the charts. That’s just my opinion, though.

Inha

Min Juyoung: Inha~ ♡ Whenever you’re on stage you always shine! ✨ I worried so much about how hard this would be for me, so thank you so much for always being so kind to me. You always make me feel better when things are tough! >< I wish everyone could see the warm and friendly side that you only show me. ♡ Love you ♡ (IH: I love you T_T) (HS: Truly the master of warm and fuzzy comments)

Han Do-yoon: Hi, Inha. It’s me, Do-yoon. The two of us really did change a lot in terms of looks, but you’re a born natural. The way you adjusted into it so easily was really amazing and cool to see. I think that’s definitely a strength of yours, as well as what makes you charming. You are awesome! Anyway, I hope you have a good day today as always. Bye! (SI: If someone didn’t know better, they might think you were filling out paperwork or something)

Lee Gyu-hyuk: It kind of caught me off guard when you first started calling me Gyu, but I came to like you calling me that. Because you’re just calling me by my name, without any formalities. Youngie noona said this too, but...Thanks for just treating me like a friend. I think you have a lot of aspects to you that I’m lacking in. I’m kind of jealous. (HS: I do that too you know..) (IH: In your case you go so far with it that it’s actually a problem socially)

Seo Hyesung: She sure is one without a filter. Sometimes I think, like, wouldn’t it be better to have some kind of filter? Anyway, she does have some friggin’ sweet dance moves, I’ll give her that. I wish I had joints like that... T_T (IH: Then why don’t you practice)

Chang Seil: I’m not sure why I’m participating in this, but…Inha-ssi is one contestant who’s sure to succeed. She already has the talent and charm, so I think that as long as she just gets the right kind of support she’ll breeze through Bstars and will even be able to set course for way bigger things in the future. We at Bstars had better work even harder to ensure that can happen! (IH: omg...thank u T.T)

Do-yoon

Lee Gyu-hyuk: Do-yoon! I still remember that one time that I was just standoffishly standing in the back of the room when you came up and started talking to me. When we first started I often had the thought that it was a mistake to have come out here, but thanks to you I was eventually able to get comfortable talking to everyone. I’ll always be grateful to you. A lot has happened, but...my hope is to be someone that you could come to rely on, too. Because I want to pay you back! (HS: A silver spoon who pays his debts)

Seo Hyesung: Hyung, you’re kind of more easily shaken than you look, emotionally speaking? Every time that happens, you know how much I go out of my way to make you feel better, right? You’re grateful, right? If you are then be good to me!! Bc I’m keeping track! LMAO ...I just wanted to say thanks for talking to me first (IH: Oh? That was actually kinda cute of you?)

Min Juyoung: Do-yoon, when I first met you I thought you were a demon! But ever since you changed your hair...Ohoho…? You’re always off on your own lost in thought, but sometimes it’s OK to talk about your feelings. I’ve gone through quite a bit, too, so who knows, maybe I could help? We’re always seeing each other around, so don’t be afraid to come talk to me. We may be competitors on the show, but in the end we’re all just peers who are in the music industry together! (IH: Unnie I want to be your peer too~!!)

Oh Inha: Han Do-yoon teach me how you do your makeup...And the way you manage to get it all off when you go to bed is amazing! I don’t know how you even deal with something so annoying...Also, if you ever feel like you’re having a mental breakdown or something why not freaking talk to us for once! (JY: Yeah!)

Chang Seil: Do-yoonie hyung, I think you have a good head on your shoulders. (HS: Why don’t you try saying things like that to me for once) Or maybe I should say your sense of judgment seems to shine because of your tricky situation? You’re always thanking me etc. for my advice and such, but I know most of it is stuff you’re already thinking that I’m just repeating to you. At this rate, I think things will work out quite well for you, don’t you?

Hyesung

Han Do-yoon: Hello, Hyesung. It’s me, Do-yoon. (IH: Are you writing this to your grandpa?) At first I was a little worried about getting along with you because you were so outgoing and full of energy. But after getting to know you I realized that you have an earnest side to you as well, and you’re a lot different than how you first appeared. You work hard, so I think things will work out for you. Anyway, I hope you have a good day today. Bye!

Min Juyoung: You’re really lively, but I see you quietly thinking to yourself sometimes, too. Can you tell me what it is that you’re thinking about? If you’re worried about anything, I’d be happy to lend an ear...I’m cheering you on! (HS: Then help me win more votes T_T) (JY: Oh! Well that might be a little hard~)

Lee Gyu-hyuk: Maybe it’s just a difference in personality, but I never seem to know how to act when meeting new people...I’m worried that I upset you, and it keeps tugging at my mind. Next time we meet, I’ll try harder to be more friendly. (HS: Then help me win more votes T_T)

Oh Inha: Oh, that Hyesung? He sure is a mystery, really. I mean, maybe someday we might be able to be on slightly better terms, right? Maybe if the things he said were a little bit nicer? (HS: Why are u talking to urself?)

Chang Seil: N / A (HS: Ha.. (=ヮ=))

Seil

Han Do-yoon: Hello, Seil. It’s me, Do-yoon. You’re so businesslike, so I’m always surprised at the considerate things you sometimes do for us, too. I wa I’m always grateful to you. Just know that I can see how hard you’re working. I hope you have a good day today. Bye then! (IH: Fighting!) (JY: I’m grateful, too!)

Oh Inha: Hi Seilll! I’m worried about you, what with those huge dark circles that are always on your face. Try drinking some healthy vegetable juice or something once in a while, OK…? Thanks for all our little chats here and there! Let’s both hang in there! (SI: T_T)

Min Juyoung: Hi, Seil~ Looks like those guys above me already said it all, about how hard you work. The things that PD Shin say to you...I’m sure they have good intentions behind them, but I don’t think you should push yourself to the point where you have to feel like you have to change who you are. I’m sure it’s hard, but the reason we do this kind of work in the first place is so that we can be happy, after all! (HS: A word of wisdom from a follower of the Church of Happiness...)

Lee Gyu-hyuk: I have this memory of when I appeared in the preliminaries. Back then I didn’t know anything still, so I kept looking at you and following whatever you said. I guess I can think of you as something close to a teacher. (JY: Professor Chang!) It may not be much, but I’m at least trying not to inconvenience you too much. Because I know you’re going out of your way for us in a lot of ways already. I’m looking forward to continuing to work with you.

Seo Hyesung: Why is a staff member writing these too? Mr. FD, do you think you’re a celebrity or something??? LMFAO. In that case, are you here reading these boxes where we’re talking amongst each other, too? (SI: I guess so, O Great Superstar Mr. Seo...)

#Buried Stars #Video games #cam thoughts #liveblog: bstars #My Translations #*blows a kiss* for my three (3) followers who are my sole companions in this small fandom hell #happy anniversary to us babes

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hyungieyoongi · 3 years

Text

Found: “Run Away to You” Part 1

Let me go.

He was, without a doubt, your hardest goodbye.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Genre: Fluff + Angst

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

// Part 2

---

Looking at the calendar on your wall, the date glared back at you, red marker encircling the number as if you could forget it.

One year. It had been one whole year since you ran away from your old life.

Happy anniversary to me, you thought bitterly.

It hadn’t been easy–no, it had been tactful, strategic. Your best friend-turned-publicist, Marianne, had programmed your social media accounts to simultaneously deactivate. The phone you used for “celebrity” contacts and business-related matters was permanently turned off, stashed away in the back of a drawer. You had already moved all your belongings to a new apartment on the other side of the city, address undisclosed to everyone except Marianne and your parents on the other side of the world. Everything had been in place for you to completely disappear.

You were instructed to lay low for at least one entire month, groceries delivered to your door under a fake name with Marianne’s credit card. You had cut your hair, once long and flowing, to your collarbone. It was often hidden under a baseball hat when you went to your favorite café for a coffee or took your elderly neighbor’s dog for walks around the park. You were completely off the radar, just as intended.

That didn’t stop the world from trying to track you down for a while. Fan blogs speculated where you could have gone, and tabloids splashed old pictures of you on their covers with speculative headlines. Your parents even had to install a state-of-the-art security system in your hometown in the States after a magazine found out where you grew up and tried to break into their backyard. But you weren’t naïve enough to go back home; that was the first place people would expect you to go. Instead, you were hidden in plain sight in Seoul, just sans the flashes of the cameras following you. Without the designer clothes or big sunglasses hiding your features, you looked just like anyone else. Undetectable.

You had grown up in America, studying acting and Korean during your time at university with Marianne. Upon graduation, you landed a major role in a K-drama, uprooting your entire life to move to Seoul. For five years, you lived in the spotlight under the industry’s microscope. People said you were living the dream, but it started to feel more like a nightmare. It became overwhelming, suffocating.

When the show wrapped after three seasons, you knew it was time. You decided to run. You just wish you didn’t have to hurt anyone else in the process. Especially him.

You had instructed Marianne to give him a letter explaining why you had to go away, but she never heard back from him.

Let me go, Yoongi. Don’t look for me. This is for the best. I will always care about you. – Y/N

The words were emblazoned in your memory, your eyes tearing up at the thought of him reading the words you wrote to him.

Let me go.

He was, without a doubt, your hardest goodbye.

Your cell phone rang, distracting you from the memories that plagued your thoughts today.

“Good afternoon, dearie!” Marianne chirped on the other end of the phone. “It’s a big day for you. The first half of your manuscript came back from the publisher, so get excited to do some editing!” Hiding away from the world for a year gave you a lot of time to think. For you, that meant time to write. Marianne seamlessly transitioned from being your publicist for your acting career to managing your budding career as an author, even helping you pick out a pseudonym.

“That’s great news,” you mumbled in reply, taking a long sip of your coffee, the bitterness blooming on your tongue.

“Are you alright? You sound, I don’t know, a little off,” Marianne questioned, concern lacing her normally peppy tone.

“It’s been one year, Marianne,” you replied, knowing she’d understand.

“Oh my,” Marianne said after a beat of silence. “It completely slipped my mind. How are you holding up?”

“I’m alright just a little…weird, I guess? I’m so relieved to have my own life again. But I’m also just kind of mourning my old life today.”

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Do you want me to come over after work–we can order takeout and watch a movie? Take your mind off things?” Marianne offered.

“No, that’s okay. I think I’m just going to spend the day doing some self-care. We’re meeting tomorrow to discuss the manuscript timeline, right?”

“Yes, of course! I’ll be at the café at 11:00 a.m. Are you sure you’ll be okay today?” Marianne asked, clearly not convinced that you were telling the truth about being alright.

“I’ll call you if I need you, I promise,” you reassured her.

“Night or day, Y/N, you know I’m here.”

After you both said your goodbyes and ended the call, you started to feel restless, needing something to take your mind off the date and the competing emotions swirling in your brain. You decided fresh air and comfort food were the solution.

Grabbing your keys off the table by the front door, you slipped on your shoes, heading for the local corner store in your neighborhood, mindlessly forgetting your hat on the hook on the wall.

---

Mask pulled over the lower half of his face to conceal his appearance, Yoongi slipped into a nearby corner store, saving himself from the prying eyes that seemed to be examining him a little too closely from across the street.

He had snuck out of the studio without security, wanting to just take a moment to breathe all to himself. He had driven around Seoul with no destination in mind, eventually stopping in a neighborhood he found with a quiet park for a walk. His thoughts betrayed him as they kept going back to you and the letter he received one year ago, now crumpled in the top righthand drawer of his desk. He didn’t need to pull it out today to remember exactly what it said.

Let me go.

Once he read those words, he had stopped reading, smashing the paper together between his fists in frustration, shoving it in the drawer. It had stayed unopened since last year.

Yoongi aimlessly wandered through the aisles of the store, his mind continuously returning to that drawer. He had worked so hard to stop thinking about it–about you–over the past year. Today was a harsh reminder that you were still on his mind. He had stopped calling a long time ago, knowing that you wouldn’t pick up or return his calls. Sometimes though, if he had a little too much to drink with the boys, he’d call your number just to hear your voice on the voicemail recording. He didn’t tell anyone about those late-night calls.

Rounding the aisle corner, he collided with someone, knocking the snacks they had bundled in their arms to the ground. They immediately knelt down, trying to collect them.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Here, let me help you,” Yoongi offered, starting to lean over.

“Oh, no that’s okay I’ve got it.” Yoongi froze, his body going rigid. That voice. Your voice. He hadn’t heard it in-person in over a year. The sweetness of it rang through his ears, reminiscent of the voicemail he knew by heart.

It was you. After all this time.

---

Standing up with your snacks back safely in your grasp, you looked at the man in front of you who seemed to be barely breathing.

You were about to ask if he was alright, but then you recognized it. The black hat–the one with two rings on the edge that he would often wear when he went out. His mask had slipped below his nose, his pale cheeks slightly squished under the pressure of the fabric. Black hair poked out from underneath the hat, falling onto his forehead and into his dark brown eyes. They were wide with shock.

You felt the color rush from your face, hands beginning to shake because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were safe. Safe in your self-made bubble away from the world.

Until he found you. And it burst.

You contemplated turning around, pretending you hadn’t recognized him. Leave him again. But you knew that wasn’t an option now. You had to face the thing you were most scared of–him.

“Yoongi, I-” your voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

“Your hair,” Yoongi remarked, cutting you off, tone flat and quiet. “You cut your hair.” His eyes narrowed at you.

You swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in your throat. “Just...wanted a change, I guess.”

Hide. You wanted to hide.

“You seem to have gone through a lot of changes,” Yoongi said, bitterness seeping into his voice.

You winced at the implication of his words. You took a deep breath to try and collect yourself before replying.

“Can we...can we not do this here?”

“Fine.”

“I live around the corner. Maybe we could just...talk?” you asked, averting your eyes to the ground. When you didn’t hear a reply, you looked back up to Yoongi, who nodded at you once in agreement.

Abandoning your would-be purchases, you walked out the front door of the store, Yoongi silently following behind you. You felt his eyes burning into your back.

Just put one foot in front of the other, you thought to yourself.

As you and Yoongi silently walked to your apartment, neither of you noticed the camera pointed at the two of you, snapping the photo that would change everything.

// Part 2

---

Taglist: @loveyoongles @agustd-2020 @delacyrose224 @crispychanniee @sunshinejunghoseokie @jinsearthh

Want to be added to the tag list? Let me know!

Check out my other work! ❤️

#bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #run away to you fic #bts fanfiction #bts series #min yoongi #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #suga #suga x reader #sugar x y/n #bts au fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Note

Have you ever done like a high school aged au except Levi and Hanji are penpals?

so levihan here aren't exacty penpals and it's a high school!au, but this idea has been living in my head ever since i received your ask so i hope you enjoy this fic, anon, because i dedicate it to you <333

As cliche as it sounded, but Hange never thought that her life was gonna be this way.

When she finished her journalistic degree, when she graduated from university on top of the class, everyone kept saying, "A bright future is ahead of you, Zoe. The whole world is at your fingertips..."

And Hange had believed them, Hange had expected it too. Uncovering the truth, saving people with the might of her words, making the world a better place one article at a time. Hange couldn't wait to get started and make her dream come true.

And then...

And then every serious newspaper turned her application down, not ready to give a chance for someone with a lot of skills and even more brains, but not enough experience, and then her pride got in the way, and so she didn't wish to settle for some local, small newspaper, refusing to waste her degree and years of hard work on some mediocrity.

And now, here she is - working as an advice columnist for Sina's Gossip.

Not a place Hange ever thought she'd end up at. Not a place she would have ended up at, if she had a choice. But she didn't have that choice, had taken it away herself when she refused offers from more respectable newspapers and didn't get a job at the place she had aimed for.

The magazine isn’t large, small enough for Hange not to know about it at all prior to receiving the job offer. She wouldn't have looked at that job offer twice, would have dismissed it immediately after seeing the name Sina's Gossip written on top, but as chance had it, she scrolled through the letter and saw the name at the end.

Erwin Smith.

The Erwin Smith, a local star who had disappeared from public eye some years ago. And now Hange knew where he had gone to.

He was only in his thirties, and already made a name for himself after he uncovered a conspiracy at the local pharmaceutical company. Just like Hange, perhaps even more so, he had a bright future ahead of him. But suddenly he quitted his job and founded his own magazine.

Hange would be lying if she said she wasn't at the very least a little bit intrigued at Erwin's sudden change of course.

That's why she agreed to a meeting with him. And that was her mistake.

Because Erwin turned out to be handsome, intelligent and charming to the point of ridiculousness. He smiled, spoke a few flattering words and next Monday Hange was already on her way to Sina's Gossip, where she started off as a mere copy editor.

It's been three years since that fated meeting, and Hange is still here, now promoted to an advice columnist. And, despite it not being what she dreamed of, despite working at a gossip magazine she used to despise... She likes it here.

She likes the people she works with, and she likes people she works for.

The letters people send her, asking for an advice or sharing their grievances, Hange likes them too. Enjoys reading them again and again, mulling over each word, looking at presented problem from each angle and doing her best to come up with the best advice possible.

Perhaps it's a simple wishful thinking or whispers of an ego she still hasn't lost, but Hange likes to think she helps these people. Solves their problems, guides them through trying times. Or brightens their day, at least.

She's not saving the world like she dreamt of, but she's making it a better place - or strives to, at least. Sometimes people she helped write her again, thanking for kind and wise words. Hange takes huge pride in that. The job pays well, enough for her to rent a small apartment and live comfortably, but it's these sincere words of gratitude that she treasures the most.

And what makes her hold onto her position in Sina's Gossip even more is the people that work alongside her. Erwin is a kind, if a little dorky man. And he gathered a team of similar people. They're all experts in their respective fields too, Erwin went through great lengths to get them all aboard.

When Hange just started working, the prospect of meeting new people made her more than a little bit nervous. As much as she liked other people and enjoyed getting to know them, getting along, truly belonging somewhere was always a problem for her. Too loud and too weird, she was usually an outcast.

But not at Sina's Gossips.

There, almost right from the beginning, ever since she walked through the glass sliding doors and met a tall man who started sniffing her, she knew she would feel right at home.

In the end, she wasn't wrong. The employees of Sina's Gossips became colleagues, then friends and then family.

She loves them all, even the grumpy midget who opens the door to her office without knocking, his face showing no ounce of friendliness or joy.

But— he's holding a cup of coffee in his hands, and even if Hange were truly annoyed, she'd forgive him just for that.

"Four-eyes," he says, a greeting and complaint at the same time. Hange lets it slide too. Levi hands her the paper cup with coffee, and it's still hot, almost burning her fingers. Lifting the cup to her lips proves that the coffee is black with three sugars, just as Hange always takes it. For that, she's ready forgive Levi any possible sin. "Are you neglecting your work once again?"

"No," that is an offence worth pouting, and Hange does exactly that. She wasn't neglecting anything, how could he even think about it. She's just been staring in the distance for... Hange glances at the clock on her computer screen... For almost ten minutes now.

Alright, maybe, Levi wasn’t completely wrong about that one. Not that Hange will ever admit it to him.

“Did you check the letters I send to you then?”

Hange blinks, a little startled. Letters? It’s the letters day already?

Another quick glance to her computer screen tells her that yes, it’s Tuesday and the letters day already.

Levi takes a seat at the other side of her desk with an irritated grumble. “I sent them to you last night, you ass.”

Hange snickers at the profanity. For an editor, Levi possesses a surprisingly foul mouth.

“I’m checking them now,” she bites her lip, opening the mail. Right beneath advertisements and notifications from her social media, there is a letter from Levi, just as he said there would be. Hange opens it, downloading the archive. As soon as she clicks on it, her eyes light up in anticipation. She starts scrolling down, swiftly going over each letter.

A father who doesn’t know what to give his estranged son for his tenth birthday…

A woman who is worried that her sister is dating a gangster…

A strange man who lost his pet lobster…

A teenage girl who isn’t sure what she wants more – to move to another city to the university of her dreams or stay at her hometown with her best friend and boyfriend…

Hange greedily drinks in every word, hurrying to get to the bottom. What if there is a letter from him…

Levi interrupts her by kicking her leg under the desk.

“I’m glad you finally decided to pay attention to your work,” he pauses, his scowl deepening. In her head, Hange finishes his sentence for him – but now, I want you to pay attention to me. God, Levi is just the cutest. So endearing and precious, and he tries to hide it so hard. Nothing gets past Hange, though. “But I didn’t come here to stare at your deranged smile.”

Obediently, Hange shifts her gaze from a screen to Levi, staring at him with a hand beneath her chin. “Why did come here then?”

“You have a meeting this Friday, remember?”

A meeting, meeting… It takes Hange a long moment to catch up with what Levi is talking about.

“A meeting!” she yells, when it dawns on her at last. She snaps her fingers, grinning at Levi. “Of course, a meeting, with that guy from, mm…” she frowns, tapping her forehead. “From Monkey Island?”

“Money Island,” Levi corrects, but he does so with a hoarse chuckle, and Hange mentally pats herself on a back.

After all, who doesn’t enjoy making their attractive co-workers laugh? Especially if they’re just as broody as Levi?

“Do you remember his name at least?”

“Zeke Yeager, right?”

“Right,” Levi nods, and it could be Hange’s imagination, but his face becomes just a little darker, and his voice just a little gruffer.

Hange’s senses start tingling…

“Do you know each other?”

And, yep, there it is – Levi purses his lips, turning his head to the side to mutter a quiet curse. “We’ve graduated from the same university.”

In what world that is a reason enough for such apparent dislike? Hange longs to know more, find out every possible detail.

Levi sees that desire reflect on her face, and sighs. “He’s an asshole,” he reveals. “Who loves his asshole little brother.”

It doesn’t explain much anyway, but Hange feels like it’s the best she can get out of Levi. She decides to surrender and quell her curiosity, just this once.

“This is the only reason why you came? To remind me about the meeting? I have an assistant for that, Levi.”

Lifting his thin eyebrow, Levi gives her a long look. Hange struggles not to fidget under it. What has gotten into him?

“You really don’t remember,” Levi shakes his head, his disappointment more than transparent. “Four-eyes, Berner is on a sick leave. Had been for three days already.”

Oh, right… that’s why no one answered when she yelled a greeting upon entering the office. That’s why she forgot about the letters day. And that’s why she was staring in the distance for almost ten minutes.

She awkwardly giggles, rubbing her neck. “It just slipped my mind.”

“Lots of things do,” Levi rolls his eyes. “Don’t forget about meeting with Yeager, though. He’s an asshole but—”

“But an important man,” Hange finishes for him. She knows that, can hardly forget about that, since Erwin is so adamant at reminding her every time they cross paths at the office. “I know, I know, that interview is important just as that Zeke is. It can make our magazine more popular and blah, blah, blah.”

“Not only our magazine,” Levi sharply retorts. “It’s a chance for you too, Hange. Don’t ruin it.”

There is an uncharacteristic intensity in his voice, one that turns Hange speechless.

It’s a surprise that Levi knows about her ambitions at all, of course, she told him same as she told practically every person she came across. One day, I’ll show you, I’ll show you all just how great I can be. But it’s a surprise Levi not only knows, but remembers about it. It’s a surprise that he seems to care whether she truly achieves her dreams or not.

“Do you wish to come with me?”

It tumbles out of her lips without a second thought. But just as her mouth starts moving, Hange realizes that she truly wants it, wants to have Levi there with her. As a moral support, if nothing more.

Levi doesn’t answer her right away. His eyes narrow, as he mulls it over with his hand on his chin.

“Zeke doesn’t like me,” he mutters. “I will only make it worse.”

“Or you will make it better,” Hange winks, pressing her elbows into the desk to lean closer to Levi. Now that she knows what she wants, she doesn’t hesitate to apply a bit of pressure. “Maybe, he secretly likes you.”

Levi scoffs, crossing hands on his chest. “I doubt it.”

Despite his curt answer, Hange knows that she is close. Levi is almost ready to break. To ensure that, she decides to play a little dirty. “Levi,” she tilts her head and pinches her eyebrows, sticking her bottom lip out. Her puppy eyes aren’t that impressive, not nearly as good as Nanaba’s, but, for some reason, they seem to always work on Levi. “Pretty, pretty please, will you go with me?”

Levi curses, and that’s how Hange knows that she won. “If I end up destroying your whole career, four-eyes,” he points a finger at her. “That’d be your fault.”

“If you ruin my career, that means I’ll stay here with you forever. Won’t that be splendid?”

He doesn’t say anything, but his face seems pensive, thoughtful. Something in Hange’s heart pangs at that.

“Are you going to Nanaba’s place this Sunday?” she asks to change the topic. And distract herself from the strange feeling Levi’s expression provoked.

“No,” Levi answers. Hange grins.

Levi always says no, always tells them that he won’t let them pull him into their shitty shenanigans again, always swears that this is the last time he dragged their drunk asses home.

And yet, he shows up time and time again. He complains, calls them idiots, drunken fools and disgraces to society, but he still shows up. If that’s not a sign of true friendship, Hange doesn’t know what true friendship is.

“Can’t wait to hang out with your broody mien, shorty!” she exclaims, laughing when Levi flips her off. “Don’t forget your gloomy attitude!”

“And don’t you forget about letters I sent to you,” Levi stands up, throwing his paper cup in a trash bin next to Hange’s desk. “You have two days to answer them all.”

“I know, I know,” Hange waves him off. “I don’t need you or Moblit to tell me how to do my job.”

Levi raises an eyebrow at that, looking overly skeptical. “Two days,” he dryly reminds her before leaving her small office.

For a moment more, Hange continues staring after him with a fond smile on her lips.

Back to work, Zoe, she shakes herself and returns her attention to the computer screen. Her mail is still opened there, and Hange scrolls down to the end, searching for a username she hopes will pop out.

Almost near the end, it does, and Hange can’t keep in a quiet squeal of delight.

[email protected]

The username is a bit ridiculous, pompous even, so Hange opts for a shorter and, in her opinion, more accurate one – lover boy.

Every two weeks without a fail, that same user sends Hange a letter, asking for an advice. They all wary in everything, but the subject – a person the lover boy has a crush on.

What do I do to become closer to her, what is the best way to make her smile…

Each and every letter, without a fail, brightens Hange’s day, no matter how shitty it was. The care, affection and love that radiate from these letters melt her heart and strengthen her belief that the world is truly a wonderful place if kind-hearted people like him still live here.

Apparently, romance isn’t quite dead yet.

Gripping the edge of her chair to at least try and conceal her excitement, Hange eagerly opens the letter and starts reading.

Thank you for your last advice, as always, it helped.

We’re growing closer, at least, it feels like we do. However, there is another problem that I hope you can help me with.

Admittedly, I’m not very good with my words. I never know what to say to tell the others how I feel, and sometimes I can come as rough and rather rude. It’s a fault of mine I had ever since childhood, and, truth be told, it never bothered me much.

But with her… it’s a bit different.

She can take a joke, and I know she doesn’t really mind my manner of communicating, but, still, I wish I could show her just how much she truly means to me. Sometimes it seems like she doesn’t quite realize it. Doesn’t really understand just how amazing and wonderful she is.

I know that the subject is not exactly ordinary, but your advices helped in the past, and I believe it will help this time too. Even if it wouldn’t, it’d be interesting to read your opinion on that.

Thank you in advance.

After finishing the letter, Hange starts rereading it, rubbing her forehead in thought. The lover boy is right, the subject isn’t easy at all. The lack of details and context complicates things even further.

A lot of people struggle at communicating what they feel, and it’s especially true about romantic feelings. But different people struggle in different ways.

Someone like Moblit, for example, is open enough with his affection, but he’d stutter to death sooner than confess to someone.

Someone like Erwin can charm pretty much anyone. His carefully crafted words and easy, handsome smile do all the job for him, but his words are crafted just a little too carefully and his smiles come a little too easily, and, as a result, he only rarely comes off as truly sincere.

And then there is Levi, whose walls are higher than skyscrapers and mightier than a fortress. But once you get past them, once you invest enough time and effort to break them down, you’ll find a gentle, caring man, who just isn’t used to showing his true feelings.

Hange can only guess what type the lover boy is.

Sighing, she decides to leave his letter for now and deal with it after she finishes with the rest. Somehow she feels that finding a lost lobster would be much easier than dealing with that particular dilemma.

***

A couple of busy days, filled with Erwin's warnings - Hange, remember the reputation of our agency rests on your shoulders, Nanaba's cheerful encouragements - you can do it, Hange! you'll charm the guy in no time, I know you will, Mike's horrible jokes - if you can't charm him, just ask Levi to punch him, that might do the trick too, and Moblit's frantic remindings, spoken over the phone in a throaty voice, later Hange and Levi arrive to the café Zeke had chosen for their meeting.

“It looks fancy,” Hange whispers to Levi, eyeing the entrance with a slight pout. “I didn’t know it’d be so fancy.”

“That’s Zeke for you,” Levi grunts. “Fancy asshole.”

“R-right,” suddenly every single precaution Erwin had told her come back, more frightening than ever. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The inside of the café seems even fancier, and Hange spares a longing look at her attire – an over-sized yellow pullover thrown over a light green plaid shirt with a brown khakis and worn-out converses. It’s not something one would call professional or stylish, not that she owns anything much better… but now Hange wishes she at least combed her hair.

She doesn’t know what Zeke looks like, hasn’t bothered with looking him up, since Levi is accompanying her, but she easily spots him even without Levi’s help.

Just as the café’s entrance, just as its interior, Zeke looks fancy. He’s not overdressed, in his dark green shirt and light cardigan he is all but casual, but damn, he is one of the leading journalists at the magazine called Money Island, and it clearly shows.

Levi wasn’t wrong about the fancy part, but he also failed to mention that Zeke is handsome. Extremely so. Blond and bearded, he is not exactly Hange’s type, but, well… there are exceptions to every rule.

Not just attractive, but, apparently, Zeke is a gentleman too.

He rises from his seat as soon, as he sees Hange, a blinding in its brilliance smile curving his thin lips.

“Hange Zoe,” he greets and eagerly shakes her hand. “I’m so happy you’ve come.”

The smile doesn’t leave his face, doesn’t even diminish, but his eyes narrow ever so slightly, when they land on Hange’s companion.

“I didn’t know you’d bring a friend.”

His voice is friendly, if only a little surprised, but his eyes are colder than they’d been before.

“It’s our editor,” Hange pats Levi’s back. “Levi—”

“We’ve met before,” Zeke’s still showing that same smile, but there is just enough frost in his voice to tell Hange that there is no secret affection between him and Levi.

“I’m glad Hange invited me to trail along. It’s nice to see you again, Zeke.”

Levi doesn’t bother hiding his sarcasm or schooling his expression in something more amicable. Hange rolls her eyes and kicks him as soon as Zeke turns around.

Will it kill you if you try to act a little friendlier? her gaze asks him.

I warned you about this, Levi’s huff answers.

Oh, well. At least, he didn’t call her four-eyes in front of Zeke. Clearly, that’s an improvement.

Hange sighs and sends a quick prayer that this meeting won’t turn into a complete disaster. She sits down in a booth across from Zeke and hopes that her smile will be enough to counter any possible tensions.

“The strawberry cupcakes are exceptionally good here,” Zeke notes, when a waitress bring them menus.

Without looking up from a menu, Hange nods. The prices in this café are much higher than she is comfortable with. She’d never bring her friends here, but, well… Zeke isn’t a friend, so Hange swallows down her discontent and orders herself a coffee with a strawberry cupcake.

She doesn’t even like strawberry cupcakes.

“Let’s start, shall we?” Zeke says after three of them receive their orders.

Hange takes a sip from her coffee – it’s honestly not that good to be so pricey – and tries to look composed and professional.

Truth be told, she doesn’t know why she is here. An interview, Erwin told her, but why would anyone want to interview her? She’s not a celebrity – not an actor or an artist, she’s a journalist, who works for a small, local magazine.

Why would a person like Zeke and a magazine like Money Island be interested in someone like her?

“I’ve prepared a small list of questions…” Zeke takes out his tablet, turning it on. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes,” Hange says, smiling when she feels Levi’s calf press to hers in a silent encouragement.

“So tell me more about yourself – your hobbies, talents outside of work…”

It starts easy like that, and Hange loses herself in her ramblings so much that she doesn’t notice that Zeke isn’t taking any notes.

But after a few trivial questions – what do you like about journalism, what made you choose this career path, what are subjects you’re most passionate about – everything gets just a little bit stranger.

“What are your greatest strengths?” Zeke asks, then follows it with, “What are your greatest weaknesses?”

Where do you see yourself in five years? What’s your dream job? Do you consider yourself successful?

One question after another tumbles out of his lips, and soon Hange realizes.

It’s not a simple interview, it’s a job interview.

A confused look Levi sends her confirms her suspicion.

“Mister Yeager?” Hange calls after a question about how she prefers to be managed.

“Call me Zeke,” he retorts charmingly.

“Zeke,” she forces a smile and hopes it doesn’t look too fake. “I don’t wish to appear rude… but what is the meaning of this? I thought you wanted an interview for your magazine?”

“It’s more for me than Money Island,” Zeke confesses. “I wish to get to know you better.”

Beside her, Levi tenses. Amongst the noise and clutter of the café, Hange can almost hear the sound of his teeth gritting. She doesn’t spare a glance in his direction, too busy gawking at Zeke.

“May I ask…” she clears her throat, feeling too far away from her comfort zone. “…Why?”

“Sina’s Gossips is a fairly small magazine,” Zeke begins, his voice as sugary as a strawberry cupcake before Hange. “But it became ten times more popular after you started working there. Clearly, you have a lot of potential, and something tells me that advice columnist is not your dream position. So I thought you’d be interested in my offer.”

“Your offer?”

“To change your workplace.”

“But I have no experience in the finance area.”

“I’m willing to give you a chance,” Zeke says graciously. “You’ll have to be approved my by superiors first, of course, and then you’ll need to undergo a bit of training...”

Hange can’t help but frown. “I can’t just abandon my previous position like that.”

“I’m not asking you to. Not now, at least.”

“So what exactly it is that you want?”

It’s Levi who asks, and his low, almost menacing voice startles Hange. She turns to look at him, but his face is as guarded and neutral as it always is.

Zeke raises an eyebrow, his expression curious as he studies Levi. But when he shifts his attention back to Hange, the same handsome smile is already plastered on his lips. “I want to offer a collaboration project. We can use your platform to let people ask things, not about their everyday struggles, but to ask you for an advice about their finance related problems. Our magazine can advertise it, and this will help to expand both yours and ours audience. And…” Zeke pauses, lowering his voice just a fraction. “It will give us a chance to see if you’re up to the job at Money Island or not.”

“I…” it’s a lot to take in, and, naturally, Hange struggles to find her own words. That’s why she’s so grateful when Levi decides to step in.

“We have to discuss with our boss first. Then we can give you a definite answer.”

There is an edge to Zeke’s smile that tells Hange exactly what he thinks about Levi’s interruption. However, it disappears instantly, in a blink of an eye. With his features much more relaxed, Zeke waves a waitress over and asks to bring them a bill.

“I’ll be waiting for your answer,” he says as he stands up. “I enjoyed our time together, Hange Zoe. And I know our companionship will bring me just as much pleasure. I hope we’ll keep in touch.”

He leaves after that, but Hange isn’t yet ready to go. She pushes the cupcake around the plate, mulling it over.

“What do you think?” she asks Levi after five minutes of silence.

“What do you think?” he shoots back, and Hange scoffs, kicking him under the table.

“I asked you first.”

Levi doesn’t answer immediately. He stares at her for a long moment, and there is something in his eyes, something Hange can’t quite understand the meaning of. She wants to know, though, almost asks him, but then Levi breaks the eye contact and slumps back in his chair.

“You’ve always wanted to do something more, right? It’s your chance, Hange.”

“And…” she swallows a heavy lump in her throat and briefly wonders where it had come from. Levi is right, that what she always wanted. Then why she is so hesitant to even entertain the idea? “Do you think I should take it?”

“It’s your chance,” Levi repeats.

He stands up and wraps his hand around her elbow to push Hange up too. His touch is too careful, almost gentle, and the confusion inside her continues to grow.

“Let’s go back to work,” he says, and adds in a voice so quiet, Hange almost misses it. “You did well, Hange.”

***

Hange goes to find Erwin as soon as they return to the office. She doesn’t tell him about the second part of Zeke’s offer, about the possibility that she’ll soon leave Sina’s Gossips and all of its employees, and focuses only on their future collaboration. Erwin listens to her frantic retelling with a calm, attentive face. He agrees to Zeke’s offer without much thought.

“That is,” he hastily adds, “if you wish to proceed with it, Hange. I don’t wish to force you, so if it’s not something you’re interested in...”

“No, no,” she shakes her head and hopes that the smile she forces on doesn’t look pained. “I’ll be happy to work on this project.”

Is she truly happy, though? Hange isn’t sure anymore.

***

She spends the whole evening and most hours of night thinking about it.

She goes to the Money Island’s website and reads most of their recent articles. She googles the most prominent employees and reads about them too, every bit of information she can get her hands on.

When the sun is starting to peek out from the horizon, Hange looks up Zeke. She finds out he has his own youtube channel, where he talks – no surprise here – about finance.

Being rich is easy

God, even the name of the channel reeks of arrogance.

But Hange has to admit – Zeke is good at what he’s doing. His pretentious manner of speaking and his apparent habit of scratching his ear is a little irritating, but he talks with confidence and ease that shows just how much knowledge and experience he has.

His videos are engrossing and his articles are, without a doubt, extremely well-written.

Hange likes Zeke, finds him interesting enough, but what he talks and writes about… she can’t help but think that it’s a bit too dull for her taste.

And it’s ironic, it’s foolish, she should be on a cloud nine from the opportunity presented to her. Hange feels like she would have been on a cloud nine… Three years ago.

But now she has a job she loves and people she loves working with. Should she really leave it behind just like that? Can she?

Then again, can she leave behind a dream she nurtured for as long as she could remember? Can she forget about every ambition and desire?

She doesn’t find an answer to that in the evening, it doesn’t come to her during the night.

And Hange can only hope that she’ll be able to answer it when the time comes.

***

But, instead, Saturday comes, and Hange forces these thought out of her head.

She wants to forget about her doubts, and with Nanaba’s fingers in her hair, a bottle of cold beer in her hands and Mike’s deep voice in her ears, forgetting about everything else is surprisingly easy.

They’re at Nanaba’s summer house, gathered around a brightly-lit brazier. Hange is warm, relaxed and content. Mike’s story about some fisherman from his hometown is a little boring, but Nanaba remedies that fault by whispering sarcastic comments to Hange.

When Mike’s thrilling tale is finally over, Erwin clears his throat, attracting everyone’s attention.

“In case some of you didn’t know, Hange had a very peculiar meeting yesterday…”

“Right,” Nanaba’s grin is too wide and gleeful for Hange’s taste, and when Nanaba fixes her eyes on her, Hange involuntarily squirms. “Very peculiar indeed.”

Knowing but not liking where this is going, Hange leaves the warmth of Nanaba’s lap and moves away. This action brings her to Levi’s side, and he tenses, but doesn’t protest which Hange takes as a sign that she can become a little bolder and lean on his shoulder.

Perhaps, he’ll shield her from Nanaba’s curiosity. Although, Hange has to admit that it’s highly unlikely. No one can stop Nanaba if she gets curious about something. Hange always admired that about her. Not now, though.

“So tell us, Hange,” Nanaba slowly begins, her eyes glinting in the light of the fire. Hange takes a quick survey, and confirms that, yep, everyone is looking at her. Apparently, Nanaba is not the only who is curious. “Did you have a good time?”

“Well, Zeke’s offer looks promising, and that project certainly is intriguing…”

“God, leave that boring stuff to Erwin,” Nanaba rolls her eyes.

Mike agrees with her by adding, “Not everyone here is as nerdy as you two.”

“Exactly,” Nanaba nods. “We want to know more about Zeke. Is he handsome?”

Perhaps, it’s the beer or the warm atmosphere or the fact that everyone – including Levi – is looking expectantly at her, but Hange chuckles and says, “Very much so. Not in the way our fearless leader is,” she salutes Erwin with a bottle, enjoying the slight blush that appears on his cheeks. “But he’s still attractive.”

There is pure wickedness in Nanaba’s gaze, when she leans a little closer to Hange and asks, “Is he as handsome as Levi?”

Hange chokes on her beer. Her eyes water as she coughs it out, her throat is sore, but with the help of Levi’s gentle pats, Hange manages to get her breathing back under control.

She glares at Nanaba as soon as she straightens out, but then remembers the stupid question and feels color rise to her face. She can blame it on a coughing fit. Probably. Hopefully.

“It depends on one’s preferences…” she mumbles, hating how weak her voice sounds.

Nanaba is merciless, though. “What’s your opinion then?”

It takes Hange more than a moment to gather enough courage to sneak a glance at Levi. Their eyes meet, but for no more than a heartbeat. Levi looks away instantly, his hands clenching into fists.

Hange decides to be honest then. Her gaze still fixed to Levi, she murmurs, “No, Zeke is nearly not as handsome as Levi.”

Nanaba coos, Mike guffaws and Erwin simply smiles, like that is exactly the kind of answer he expected.

Levi doesn’t react at all, but Hange is still pressed against him and so she feels – he relaxes considerably.

Hange relaxes too, and moving closer to his ear, she whispers, “Hey, help me get revenge on Nanaba.”

The look in Levi’s eyes is positively evil, wicked enough to send a shiver down a spine. Hange feels that shiver acutely, but… not because it scares her. Truthfully, it has a diametrically opposite effect on her.

“With great pleasure, four-eyes.”

“Oi, Nanaba!” Hange calls. She doesn’t know what to say next, finds it hard to concentrate with Levi so close to her, but she trusts he’ll back her up.

As always, he doesn’t disappoint.

“Is that your lipstick on Mike’s neck?”

There is no lipstick on his neck, Nanaba isn’t even wearing one, but they both panic and they both exchange quick glances. It’s enough of an evidence to make everyone laugh.

Mike is smiling, as he pulls Nanaba closer, tucking her under his arm. “We really suck at being discreet, aren’t we, Nana?”

“That we are,” she agrees with a smile as gentle and loving as Mike’s. “I guess there is something we want to tell you then.”

“About damn time,” Erwin shakes his head. “Do you know how many times I’ve caught you making out in the supply closet? I was getting tired of keeping quiet about it.”

“You didn’t keep quiet about it,” Levi grumbles. “Every time you caught them you ran to tell me.”

“And then me,” Hang gleefully adds.

Nanaba and Mike groan in unison, their faces red as tomato.

“We have the worst friends ever.”

Hange laughs. She very much begs to differ.

***

Beers and constant laughter very soon make all of them sleepy. That’s how Hange finds herself sandwiched between Erwin and Mike on a bed in the guest room, and though there is enough space for another person to fit in, Nanaba claims the master bedroom, and Levi takes one look at them and retires to the living room, sprawling over the couch.

In Erwin and Mike’s arms Hange feels safe and content. Her previous doubts take a seat back and let her enjoy the night with her friends. Thankfully, sleep comes to her that much easier than it did last night.

It doesn’t last for long, though.

The sun still isn’t up, but the world isn’t dark anymore, when Hange wakes up from her slumber.

Erwin is snoring into her ear, but there is a vacant place to her left, where Mike used to sleep. It’s not hard to guess where he had disappeared to, and Hange allows herself a small smile at the expanse of her friends’ happiness.

She doesn’t feel like sleeping anymore, so she throws one blanket over Erwin and snatches another one, wrapping it around her shoulders. With her feet bare and still dressed in a pajama shorts and Mike’s t-shirt that almost reaches her knees, she leaves the room and goes downstairs, walking outside. She takes a seat at a porch swing and draws a slow, deep breath, taking in the beauty around her.

The world is only starting to wake up, and grey color is more prominent than anything else, but there are just enough soft shades of purple, blue and pink to make up for it. Nanaba’s house sits just at the edge of a clearing that leads to a small lake, and the morning brings thick streak of fog that spreads over crystal surface.

It’s beautiful enough to take her breath away, and Hange loses herself in the calm, gentle feeling that finds its way inside her.

That feeling is strong enough to hide the sound of soft footsteps that approach her. Hange notices someone else’s presence only when the swing starts moving. She startles, her head darting to the side, but relaxes instantly, when she sees Levi’s sharp profile. He’s holding two cups of steaming tea in his hands, and hands one cup to Hange.

“Thank you,” she smiles, inhaling the sweet aroma of tea. It tastes just as sweet as it smells, she realizes after taking the first sip. Then, she turns her attention back to Levi. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No, I usually wake up at this time. Insomnia,” he says, and, right, now Hange remembers something-something about Levi sleeping not nearly enough for a normal human being. “Heard that you woke up and decided you might want a company.”

“How did you know that it was me who woke up?”

Levi gives her a short glance before shrugging and returning his gaze back to the scenery in front of them. “Your steps are different,” he answers, like it explains everything.

It does explain everything for Levi, Hange muses. He works in a strange, obscure way, so very different from other people. That’s why Hange likes him. That’s why she feels so comfortable with him.

Perhaps, it’s a fault of a dim, morning light or, perhaps, it’s her own sleepiness that changes her perception, but Levi looks a little different, softer around the edges. Because of it, Hange allows herself a small indulgence and moves close enough for their shoulders to touch.

Just a fraction, barely an inch, but she feels Levi move closer as well.

All of it – the colors merging on a horizon, the fog that makes everything look almost ethereal, the sweet tea made by Levi, Levi himself – fuse together to create an impossibly light, gentle feeling that very rarely visits Hange.

In that moment she feels happy, so happy that not even a brief thought of what’s going to happen if I leave is enough to ruin that mood. She simply drowns that pesky doubt down with tea and turns to look at Levi.

“I’m so lucky to have met you all,” she reveals to him in a quiet voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so happy before.”

Levi stares at her, and there is something in his eyes, something fierce and at the same time vulnerable that Hange can’t quite understand. She isn’t sure she wants to, not now, at least.

“Let’s stay like this,” she says, almost a plea. “At least, for a little while.”

“As you wish,” Levi agrees easily as though… as though whatever is it that she wants, he’ll get her.

The thought is both comforting and terrifying. Comforting, because it means he cares about her, because it means she’s not alone anymore.

And terrifying, because it makes her happy, and Hange isn’t sure she’d be able to part with that happiness, when the time comes.

***

No matter how much Hange wants to prolong that fuzzy feeling and stay in that small bubble with her friends, all too soon the weekend ends. Monday comes and with it arrives a new wave of responsibilities.

But not only responsibilities return – Moblit does too, and as soon as she sees him, Hange hugs him close to her chest, laughing when he starts complaining that she squeezes him too much.

“It’s been too quiet without your nagging!” Hange pats him on a back, smiling from ear to ear. “And you’ve missed one hell of a party! We’ve been sleeping so peacefully without your snores.”

“You like my snores,” Moblit argues, and he is right to do so. Moblit’s throaty snores lull her to sleep better than any lullaby. Besides, cuddling with him is always a delight, his tummy softer than any pillow. “And I’ve heard about that party already,” he continues with an almost sly look. “Nanaba told they found you and Levi getting cozy on a porch.”

Hange huffs, turning away from his knowing look. “I see Nanaba’s obsession with gossips is infectious.”

“It’s Sina’s Gossips we’re working at. Love for gossip is the requirement to get a position here,” Moblit jokes, and Hange shakes her head with a low chuckle.

Moblit’s been absent for just a week, but it was enough to make her miss him like crazy. She’s glad he is back. And more than anything, she wants to chat some more, but the work doesn’t wait.

She contacts Zeke as she drinks her first cup of coffee, and not even five minutes pass before he schedules another meeting with her.

There is no need for your editor to join us this time :)

Hange isn’t sure what irritates her more – Zeke’s apparent dislike of Levi or the stupid emoji.

However, Erwin’s words ring in her ear, yet another reminder that this is important, Hange, we can’t afford to blow this off, especially not with a man like Zeke on board. So she replies him with a stupid emoji of her own, and, gritting her teeth, adds that she is looking forward to their meeting.

Then, not wanting to repeat her last mistake, Hange checks the place Zeke has invited her to. This time it’s a restaurant, and a flashy one at that. The time he sets the meeting for – seven pm – is another hint that it is not a casual meeting, and therefore she needs to wear something better than her usual clothes.

She isn’t sure she can pull it off all by herself, though, and she isn’t sure there is at least one item of clothing in her closet that can be classified as fancy, so Hange asks Nanaba to help.

Nanaba agrees instantly, her eyes brightening up at the prospect. She promises to come over at the evening of the meeting with Zeke, bring some new clothes for Hange and pick up something classy.

At five pm sharp, just two hours before her meeting, Nanaba shows at Hange’s place, holding two large packages.

She doesn’t come alone, and with wide eyes Hange watches how Mike, Moblit and Levi trail inside her apartment after Nanaba.

“Erwin couldn’t make it, because he’s old and boring,” Nanaba cheerfully informs her. “But he asked to send him pictures of every look I’d pick for you.”

“Has anyone told you how wicked and vile you are?” Hange asks her with a glare that could almost rival Levi’s.

“Mike makes sure to tell me this regularly,” Nanaba flippantly replies. “Now go and get changed! We don’t have all evening.”

It takes five changes of clothes to finally find something that satisfies Nanaba’s fashion sense and doesn’t make Hange feel like she’s out of her element.

She is dressed in a dark brown suit with a black shirt underneath, and after Nanaba makes a controlled mess out of her hair, Hange has to agree – she looks very good.

“Let’s show you to the boys,” Nanaba whispers before taking a quick photo for Erwin. She pushes Hange into the living room, where Mike, Moblit and Levi are already waiting for her, all of them nursing a bottle of beer. “We’ve got yes from Erwin!” Nanaba cheerfully announces after checking her phone.

“That’s a definite yes from me too,” Mike nods in agreement.

“You look so handsome,” Moblit says earnestly, despite his shy smile.

Levi doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from Hange either. As she waits for his verdict, Hange wonders if the desire to change her look, because Levi obviously doesn’t like it, is simply stupid or downright pathetic.

“Levi,” Nanaba glowers at him, when the silence stretches for far too long.

Hange wants to deflate the tension with some joke, but then Levi clears his throat. “Not bad, four-eyes,” he says, making her heart stumble. “Go get that stupid monkey.”

Hange wants to hug him, so, so much, but she’s afraid to ruin the suit, so she settles on thanking him with a bright, happy smile.

Levi’s expression softens like that is all the thanks he desires.

“Continue making heart eyes at Levi, and you’ll miss your little meeting, Hans,” Nanaba whispers.

Hange hopes the red on her cheeks will be interpreted as anger, but Nanaba is right – she has to hurry, all this effort would be in vain if she arrives even a little too late.

“C’mon,” Mike wraps an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll give you a lift.”

Hange smiles, feeling so grateful – to all of them. She wouldn’t be ready for this evening if it wasn’t for Nanaba, she probably wouldn’t get that deal with Zeke if it wasn’t for Levi, her column wouldn’t be so successful if it wasn’t for Moblit’s assistance and Mike’s constant help, she wouldn’t have this job, this family if it wasn’t for Erwin who decided to hire her.

They all wish her luck one last time at the entrance of the restaurant. Nanaba and Moblit fruitlessly try to peek inside and get a glimpse of Zeke, when Levi wraps his hand around her wrist, dragging Hange aside.

“It’s Tuesday,” he says matter-of-factly.

More than a little confused, Hange blinks, then nods in affirmative, she knows it’s Tuesday, she’s not that disorganized.

“It’s Tuesday,” he repeats, tilting his head just so.

It is only then, to Hange’s shame, that she finally understands what he means.

“The letters, right?” she grins, proud of her own quick-wittedness. It took her only a moment to guess.

“I sent them over already. If you won’t be too exhausted after the meeting…”

“I’ll check them out as soon as I get home,” she promises.

There is nothing else to say, nothing else to do but walk away from Levi and inside the restaurant, where Zeke is probably waiting for her. Still… Hange is reluctant to leave. There is something between her and Levi, something almost tangible, and it keeps her glued to his side.

This feeling, it grows bigger, harder to ignore, until—

Until it disappears, when Nanaba tugs at her hand. Hange allows her friend to pull her away from Levi, stopping just for a second to turn around and wave him goodbye. Levi’s face is set in the usual scowl, but his gaze softens, and it fuels Hange with determination and resolve.

She looks around and, encouraged by her friends’ unwavering support, steps inside the restaurant.

***

Just as Hange predicted, Zeke is already there. When he notices her approach, he stands up and with a dazzling smile and pulls a chair for her.

“Hange Zoe,” he all but purrs. “You’re absolutely ravishing tonight.”

His words are too sweet, Zeke himself is too sweet to seem genuine, but Hange gives him a smile nevertheless. His compliment doesn’t succeed in making her heart race like Levi’s quiet ‘not bad, four-eyes’ did, but it still pleases her.

She doesn’t believe he truly means it, knows that Zeke uses flirting to get something out of her, but, oh well… if a man like Zeke Yeager wants something from her… isn’t it already fluttering?

“I took a liberty to order for you myself, if you don’t mind,” Zeke says.

Hange does mind, not that she can express it now, after Zeke already ordered. That’s exactly what he was counting for, Hange can very well see it – in the slight curve of his mouth and an amused shine in his eyes.

“As long as the meal is delicious,” she murmurs slyly.

Zeke laughs, and Hange mentally congratulates herself. Erwin would be so proud.

Speaking of Erwin…

“My boss agreed to your offer, he’s very interested in it and hopes…”

“Hange,” Zeke cuts her off with a wave of his hand. “We have work email to discuss things like that. Delicious food, beautiful night… why don’t we simply enjoy it? We can talk about work later.”

Hange frowns, looking at the man before her intently. For the life of her, she can’t comprehend what does he want from her.

“You’re a journalist with bright future ahead of you,” Zeke says, like he knows what exactly Hange is thinking about. “I want to help you succeed, but, aside from that, you’re an intriguing person. I simply wish to get to know you better. Is it so bad?”

Either she really sucks at reading people, or Zeke is that good of an actor, but… he seems genuine enough. Hange struggles with keeping her suspicion.

Before she can give him an answer, their food is brought in. The plate before Hange looks more expensive than she could probably afford, and she is pretty sure she won’t be able to even pronounce the name of a dish, but she takes a first bite, and… can barely resist a moan.

It’s good, really good – spicy but not bitter, and just crunchy and juicy enough.

“Is it delicious?” Zeke quirks an eyebrow, smug and amused.

The dish is so tasty, Hange can’t find it in herself to snap at him. “It’s perfect,” she confesses, sending another slice into her mouth.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, to be honest, I was quite nervous about your reaction.”

Zeke doesn’t look nervous in the slightest, but if he’s so dead-set on playing a gentleman tonight, Hange can indulge him.

“So what exactly do you want to know about me?” she asks, pouring wine in both of their glasses.

“Ah, right,” Zeke pushes the glasses up his nose. “The first thing I’m interested in…”

***

They spend the whole dinner talking, jumping from one topic to another. Despite his arrogance, Zeke is an interesting man, he knows how to entertain and engage his companion, and so very soon Hange loses herself in conversation with him.

Time flies fast, and when they stand up from the table, Hange is shocked to discover that it’s almost ten in the evening.

Zeke remains a gentleman till the very end, and after paying their bill, he drives Hange home. He stops just outside of her apartment block, and when he turns off the engine, Hange knows she is ought to say something.

“I had fun. Thank you for the evening.” She says, and she means it. She doesn’t feel nearly as happy as when she is with her friends from Sina’s Gossips, but Zeke proved to be a good company. Hange is looking forward to working with him.

“I should be the one thanking you,” Zeke tilts his head, ever the charmer. “I’ll see you again?”

“Sure,” Hange agrees and gets out of the car. “Good night,” she yells into his open window and then hurries up the steps to her apartment.

Exhaustion sips into her bones the moment Hange crosses the threshold. She kicks off the shoes and takes off the suit, trudging up to the shower. Once she is clean and fresh, she falls onto her bed and gets under the blankets. Only then, Hange remembers her conversation with Levi.

With the last bit of her energy, she takes the phone into her hands and unlocks it, going immediately to the mail. She isn’t awake enough to read all the letters, so she just quickly scrolls through them. A thank you message from a man who found his lobster… a distraught mother who doesn’t know how to communicate with her son… a middle-aged teacher with a mid-life crisis… Hange scrolls further down, until she sees a familiar username.

She smiles and opens the letter.

Good day, and thank you again for the last advice. Admittedly, I was a bit skeptical about it, “trust that she knows you well enough” seemed just that side of too easy, but I think she does know me well enough to see through my rude exterior. What’s more, I think she knows me well enough to see things I don’t even wish to show her. I can’t yet decide if that’s a good thing, or a terrifying one.

Alas, there is another problem, one that bothers me constantly.

Without getting too much into details… there is a chance she might leave the company we both work for. I know it might not seem that awful, we can still remain friends even if we don’t work together, but… I’m afraid we’ll drift apart when she leaves. Without common ground, without our friends bringing us together, she wouldn’t have a reason to talk to me. Maybe, she wouldn’t even want to.

But that’s not the thing that bothers me the most. She hasn’t yet decided if she wants to leave or not, and, as much as I am reluctant to let her go, I… I wish she follows her dreams, even if they tear us apart. But she’s perceptive, and, as I’ve mentioned before, she knows things about me that I very well try to hide. So what if she learns about my reluctance? What if it somehow influences her final decision?

I don’t wish for that to happen, whether she stays or she leaves, I don’t want to be her reason for either.

Because if she grows to be unhappy about that decision… I don’t think I’ll be able to take.

I… don’t think I’ve explained my point clear enough, maybe, because it’s not clear enough in my mind too. However, as always, I put my trust in you.

You haven’t left me down before, after all.

Thanks for bearing with me. Hopefully, it’s not the last time.

Hange groans in frustration, as she comes to an end of the letter. Here she was hoping to receive some sweet news from her lover boy, but he presented her with another dilemma instead. And one that is so similar to hers too. Maybe, it’s a sign, a way of universe telling her… something. The message is not yet clear enough.

Perhaps, with a little time, she’ll be able to decipher it. But as for now, Hange decides, putting the phone on top of the bedside table, the only thing she really, really needs is sleep.

And, thankfully, it comes to her easily.

***

The next day Hange dives deep into work and stays in the depth of articles, lectures, textbooks and letters from readers for entire two weeks.

In almost everything, Zeke is the one to assist her. Email exchange, video calls, personal meetings… because of all that, Zeke seems to be constantly by her side.

He invites her to his company, organizes the tour around the offices, introduces her to every employee. They’re nice, Hange supposes. Overly politely and unnaturally friendly, but that’s to be expected from total strangers.

Zeke shows her his office – a big room with glass walls and large window that overlooks the city. It drives to a point just how different their newspapers are. It almost makes Hange self-conscious about inviting him to her own office. Thankfully, Levi is there to chase away any discomfort.

As soon as Zeke gets inside their office, Levi is there, glaring at him like he’s trying to burn a hole in his head.

“As Hange’s editor, I’m here to oversee your work with her,” he explains, and proceeds to critique everything Zeke does.

Zeke’s habit of scratching his ear makes him look like a monkey and his beard makes him look like a homeless person, his voice makes Levi’s head hurt, his cologne stinks, he talks too much and works too little, his jokes aren’t funny and his remarks are unnecessary. Levi finds a way to insult everything about Zeke.

Hange would have reprimanded him, she did a few times, but she can’t deny that Levi’s hatred is… kind of funny. It’s petty and childish, but at the same time hilarious to the point that Hange has to constantly bite the inside of her cheeks otherwise she’d be laughing at his jabs like a mad person.

Still, Zeke is an important business partner and her possible colleague, so…

“Please forgive Levi for his… lack of professionalism,” she tells Zeke when Levi leaves to bring them tea. Just moments before Levi had called Zeke ‘an insufferable snob who doesn’t give a single fuck about people around him’, so naturally, Hange feels that apology in an absolute necessity this time.

“Don’t worry, I’m not offended,” Zeke smiles, and it looks just that side of arrogant, reminding Hange about Levi’s words and making her feel like maybe, his assertion of Zeke isn’t entirely wrong. “His reason for acting like that is perfectly understandable. When one stands between a man and his… well,” Zeke trails off, staring at Hange enigmatically.

His what? Zeke is standing between Levi and… what? Is it the reason why they don’t like each other so much? Is it something that happened in the past? Or is it a recent development?

Hange wants to ask, but the moment for this is lost, when Levi comes back, holding a trail in his hands.

“I spat into your coffee,” he says to Zeke with the most deadpan expression. If Hange didn’t know Levi a little better, she’d believe that he actually did it. But Zeke isn’t fooled so easily, so he just wolfishly grins and thanks Levi in a sweet voice. Levi swears under his breath and then turns to Hange, murmuring, “Yours is with three sugars.”

“Just as you like it,” Zeke sing-songs, and Hange can’t stop laughter from bubbling out of her throat at the sight of pure hatred on Levi’s usually indifferent face.

“Let’s get back to work,” she says, still chuckling.

Thankfully, they both listen to her.

***

When Zeke leaves to return to his own office, Hange breathes out in relief. She stretches her arms and sprawls out her long legs beneath the desk with a pleased hum. Working with Zeke is satisfying enough, but with just Levi around, she feels much more at ease.

“So,” she nudges his foot with her leg. “What’s up with you and Zeke? What is the source of a drama?” and, remembering Zeke’s previous comment Hange adds, “Did he steal your crush or what?”

Levi looks affronted. He glares at Hange, hands crossed on his chest and a slight pout curving his lips.

Hange thinks he’s going to tell her to fuck off, almost expects him too, but this time, Levi surprises her.

“Remember my cousin? Mikasa?”

Of course, Hange does. How could she ever forget Mikasa, the only person in this world with a scowl as scary as Levi’s?

“Well, Zeke has a little brother, a brat named Eren.”

Hange nods, she vaguely remembers Levi mentioning some brother, and, more than once, Zeke had bragged to her about Eren, his darling sibling.

“He and Mikasa are friends, and my idiot cousin has been pining after him for years.”

Hange has some troubles imagining a pining Ackerman, and she briefly wonders what Levi would act like, if he had been pining after someone. Can he even pine?

“Eren had been an asshole to her, even made her cry once, so...”

“So?” Hange prompts, practically at the edge of her seat.

“So I decided to teach him a lesson. I wanted to scare him a bit, but it kinda backfired when Zeke spotted the two of us. I wasn’t going to punch him or anything, but apparently that’s how it looked.”

“And?”

Levi sighs. “And Zeke did what he could to protect his little brother.”

“He punched you?” Hange’s eyes are wide, as she tries to imagine that particular scene. Zeke is so much bigger than Levi, if he had punched him… Hange suddenly feels very angry.

“No, although I wish he did. It happened just outside of our university, and so Zeke had me reported to the dean. Something about assaulting a minor… it almost got me expelled.”

“What a fucker,” Hange growls, her fist clenching involuntarily. She knew just how hard it was for Levi to get into that university and pay for the classes, and to think that he nearly got expelled because of something so stupid…

“It was an asshole move, I agree. But a part of me actually understands him.”

“Huh? Why?”

Hange can’t even fathom a reason to defend what Zeke did. She knows she would never forgive him for that. It doesn’t seem like Levi has forgiven him either, but he understands him? Hange doesn’t think she would be as gracious.

“Do you have a sibling, four-eyes?” Levi asks. “Or a cousin?”

“No.”

With a thoughtful expression, he hums. “That’s why you don’t understand.”

His answer confuses Hange. And at the same time, it intrigues her. She knows that a bond between siblings is a special one, and as an only child, she can’t grasp the meaning of it. Levi seems to cherish his relationship with Mikasa, even if he always calls her a brat and complains about her bad manners. It must be nice to have someone, a friend that lives with you in the same house. Hange can’t exactly imagine it, but she acknowledges the importance of it anyway.

“But enough of this,” Levi says, bringing her out of her thoughts. “Your collaboration with Zeke is almost at its end. Your article will come out in a few days, have you decided what are you going to do next? Have you already told Erwin that Zeke offered you a place at his newspaper?”

“I haven’t.”

She doesn’t quite know how to approach this conversation. What’s more, she doesn’t quite know what her decision is. Money Island is an opportunity that shouldn’t be ignored, Hange doesn’t want to ignore it. A resignation letter that is hidden inside the desk's drawer is a testament to this. It will give her career a boost she always dreamed of, and Hange can’t let it just slide past her. She isn’t going to, probably, but… she is reluctant.

“We still don’t know if our collaboration will turn out to be a success or not,” she adds, an attempt to justify her indecisiveness. “Maybe, Zeke wouldn’t want to do anything with me, if we fail.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Levi rolls his eyes, apparently refusing to even entertain this idea. “The article will be a success. And you’ll do great at that job.”

Hange snickers in an attempt to lighten up the mood, to distract Levi from her unease. “Sounds like you just want to get rid of me.”

“It’s your decision,” Levi doesn’t deny, not confirm her comment. It sets Hange just a little further on edge. “What I want doesn’t matter whatsoever.”

His words sound familiar, strangely so, but Hange refuses to think about it any further. The words might sound like those from the lover boy’s letter, but the context is different. Levi and him are different. And whoever lover boy is devoted to, Hange is sure that she and that person are different too.

“I’m starving,” Levi stands up, a bit too abruptly, but Hange is too lost in her thoughts to take note of it. “Let’s steal some food from Mike.”

Hange smiles, grateful for the offer, and stands up to join Levi. “I saw Erwin bring yoghurt today.”

“We need to hurry then,” he grabs her hand, quickening her stride. “Otherwise Nanaba will steal it before we even have a chance.”

Hange laughs and eagerly follows after him.

***

When the article finally comes out, it turns out to be a glaring success. Both newspapers gain new audience, a number of newcomers bigger than Erwin had anticipated.

Everyone is happy and proud of Hange accomplishment. No one is surprised at her success.

Mike, Nanaba and Moblit all but run into her office, interrupting each other in their haste to congratulate her.

Levi is the last one to approach her. He wears an unusually open, almost happy expression.

“Told you’d do great,” he murmurs.

Hange knows she shouldn’t do it, knows that Levi won’t enjoy it, his aversion to invasion of his personal space is proverbial, but… Hange accomplished a lot, right? She deserves a little celebratory gift.

With that in mind, she shortens the distance between them and goes in for the tightest, squishiest hug she had in a while.

Levi grunts his protest, but doesn’t object further. In a move that sets Hange’s heart ablaze, he wraps his arms around her too.

Hange likes hugs, receives lots of them – at parties, she often cuddles with Nanaba and Mike, sometimes falls asleep with Erwin holding her close, and Moblit always gets too clingy when he has a little too much to drink. She enjoys embracing her friends, but a hug from Levi – perhaps, Hange tries to reason, because it is such a rare occurrence – makes her brim with unbridled happiness.

***

After the short, but very much enjoyed celebratory hug, Hange invites her friends to get celebratory drinks.

The evening is great, it is filled with pleasant conversation and so much laughter that Hange’s stomach starts to ache from it. The evening is great, could have been perfect… if Hange could forget about the resignation letter that is hidden inside her desk’s drawer.

It is a little after midnight, when they leave the bar and call it a night. But while everyone else heads to their homes, Hange decides to come to the office.

Almost wistfully, she turns on the computer. The first thing she sees is the time and the date, displayed at the bottom of a screen, that tells her it’s the early hours of Wednesday.

The second thing she sees is a notification that Levi sent her a letter.

Right. It’s letters day. Perhaps, the last one for her.

Hange opens the mail, her eyes instantly searching for the familiar username. She doesn’t find it.

She goes through the whole archive again, this time much slower. Still nothing. Then – what if third time is a charm – she scrolls down to the bottom once more. And…

No luck.

It’s the first time in a while that Hange doesn’t receive a letter from the lover boy. It can be a good thing, she supposes. Maybe, the lover boy finally confessed and his beloved stayed with him. Maybe, that’s why he doesn’t need her advices anymore. Or, maybe… Maybe, she left. That will explain the absence of the letter too.

It’s just a letter, from a total stranger at that, but Hange feels sad. Her eyes water as she stares at the computer screen.

She can’t help but wonder – did lover boy’s beloved know about his feelings? Did she decide to leave anyway? Or was she none the wiser about the extent of his affections towards her? If so, did she regret leaving him behind?

Would Hange herself regret leaving her job and friends?

She’s not sure. The worst thing about regret is that it doesn’t appear until after you’ve already done something.

Maybe, she will regret it, maybe, she won’t. The only way to find out is to keep moving forward.

With a heavy heart and tear-streaked face, Hange takes the resignation letter out of the drawer.

***

When she breaks the news to Erwin, he is not at all surprised. He’s not even angry or disappointed, he doesn’t ask to reconsider. A part of Hange wishes he did. That would give her an excuse to stay.

His smile is sad, but at the same time it’s proud. He thanks Hange for three years of hard work and wishes her the best of luck.

“When you’ll get rich and famous,” he says as he wraps his arm around her. “Think of us sometimes, even if briefly.”

Hange’s answering laugh sounds more like a sob. “How could I ever forget all of you?”

Erwin chuckles and wipes away her tears. “You’re a star, Hange, don’t you ever doubt it.”

***

Her last day at work ends with Hange getting shit-faced at their favorite bar. Everyone else is just as drunk as she is – Nanaba refuses to let go of her arm, Mike keeps asking her to call him every day, and Moblit has already cried for three times.

The only semi-sober ones are Erwin, who has to show up to shareholders’ meeting tomorrow morning, and Levi, who is an abnormal human being that alcohol holds no power over.

In the end, he is the one tasked to bring Hange home.

For the entire of their ride to her apartment complex, Hange does her best to behave. She breaks down as soon as they get inside.

Apparently thinking that forcing her to shower would be too much of a bother, Levi leads her straight to the bedroom.

Hange doesn’t fight it, too exhausted to do so, but when Levi starts tucking her in, she grabs his wrist.

“Levi,” she says, and the amount of alcohol she consumed earlier makes it easier to not give a fuck that her voice sounds almost pleading. “Levi, what do you think about me leaving?”

Levi has said nothing on the topic throughout the whole evening. And, while he has given her a hint about his stance on it before, and it probably wouldn’t matter at all, since she is going to leave anyway, Hange still wants to know.

“I told you before,” he doesn’t pull his hand away from her grasp, if anything he moves a little closer, sitting at the edge of her bed. “My opinion doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Hange assures. “To me, it matters.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Do you want me to stay?” she looks deep into his eyes, but be it the influence of alcohol or the absence of her glasses… she can’t read him at all. “If you really do, maybe—”

“No.” Levi cuts her off sharply. “No, Hange, there is no maybe. It’s your decision, and my feelings can’t become your reason.”

Again, the words are familiar, but Hange is drunk. Hange is filled with alcohol and conflicting emotions and lingering doubts. Besides, she’s too lost in the intense look inside Levi’s eyes to make sense of anything else.

“Good night,” Levi whispers, pressing his lips to her forehead in a feather light, achingly gentle kiss. “I hope you will be happy.”

He leaves just before Hange thinks of asking him to stay.

***

Hange swears to stay in touch with everyone at Sina’s Gossips, and she fully intends to keep that promise, but then— then the work gets in the way.

Her first week at Money Island is all but a blur. There is so much to do, so much to learn, and Hange gets lost in it almost immediately.

She stays in the office after hours, she works during weekends, every waking moment is essentially spent on trying to make sense of it all. The employees of Money Island help, which Hange is immensely grateful for, and she is no stranger to working after hours, but… what made her power through it before is not there anymore.

After two weeks she spends on her new job, Hange can’t deny it anymore – her new position is boring.

All these numbers, charts, net worth, stocks options, so on and so forth… it’s so dull and tiresome, it sucks all of Hange’s enthusiasm and inspiration.

That thrill, that excitement, it isn’t there anymore, there is no passion to fuel her, no purpose worth pursuing.

At least, her new colleagues are nice enough. However… Hange can’t help but compare them to her old ones.

Pieck is funny and kind, but not nearly as kind as Nanaba. Porco’s jokes, no matter what he thinks about them, aren’t as hilarious as Mike’s, and watching the development of his relationship with Pieck doesn’t give Hange the same thrill as Nanaba and Mike’s relationship did. Onyankopon is so polite, and he’s always ready to help, but he isn’t as endearingly awkward and cute as Moblit. Her new boss, Magath, isn’t half the man Erwin is. And Zeke… Zeke doesn’t even begin to compare with Levi.

Hange wants to like them, she really does, but all this work leaves little to no time to hang out with her friends, and their absence makes her more unwilling to connect with the new colleagues.

Out of sheer stubbornness, Hange continues working for another two weeks, hoping that maybe, with just enough time, she’ll get her spark back.

She is in the middle of writing another article, something about yet another failing company, when her phone pings, announcing a notification. Taking it a sign from above that she needs to take a break, Hange looks away from the computer screen and redirects her attention to the phone.

The notification announces a new letter, to her personal account. Intrigued, Hange opens it and almost squeals when she sees the username.

[email protected]

Hange stares at it for a long, long moment. The letter isn’t redirected as it usually was, meaning… the lover boy knows her personal mail address, or…

The lover boy is someone she actually knows.

Not sure which one is more improbable, Hange opens the letter. It’s an unusually short one.

It’s been almost a month since she left. I still miss her every damn day. Do you have any advice how to stop it?

In that moment, everything clicks. Every coincidence and conjunction, every moment she felt like she could connect to the lover boy, every time his dilemma perfectly reflected her own. The fact that he knows her email address and the fact that he mentioned one month, precisely the amount of time that passed since she left Sina’s Gossips… there are too many seemingly random things that together create a clear enough picture.

Hange rereads the letter again, just to make sure that it’s real, just to make sure that she isn’t imagining it, that it isn’t wishful thinking.

It doesn’t seem like it is, Hange doesn’t believe it is, and a realization forces a surprised, happy laugh out of her throat.

It takes her but a moment to set her mind, and then, Hange closes the word document with an article, not bothering to save it. She opens another one right after that, and starts writing what will be another resignation letter, this time addressed to CEO of Money Island, Theo Magath. When she finishes, Hange opens powerpoint and proceeds to make a presentation that consists of almost eighty slides.

Perhaps, not her best work, but Hange is confident it will suffice.

She doesn’t bother waiting for Magath to come back from his meeting to give him a letter. She bumps into Zeke just as she exits the small office they gave her, and she thrusts the resignation letter into his hands before he can pull her into one of his endless, mostly one-sided conversation that serve mainly to stroke his ego.

When he takes a look at the letter, Zeke seems regretful, but— not at all surprised.

“I hoped you’d stay with us for a little longer…” he confesses with a slow shake of his head. “But I guess we can’t do what we don’t love.”

“I’m sorry,” Hange says, a small compensation.

“Don’t be,” Zeke waves her off, as easily and smoothly as he does everything else. “However, if you ever decide to go on a date with someone taller than a middle-schooler…”

Really, even Zeke knows? Is she that oblivious?

“You’ll be the first one to know,” Hange laughs, feeling lighter than she did in weeks.

Without wasting anymore time, Hange ducks into her office, grabs what little things she brought here and then rushes to small, not at all impressive, but so dearly loved building of Sina’s Gossips.

Just before entering, she stops and looks up at the front door. Finally… she feels at peace.

A moment is all she allows, before she walks inside.

Her first stop is Erwin’s office, where Hange plugs a USB and starts her presentation before Erwin can even ask what she’s doing here. It takes absolutely nothing to convince him to give her position back, but it does take the whole eighty slides to make him at the very least consider her new proposition – a new segment where Hange will be observing local news. It’s not much, but it’s a start, and a promising one at that.

“But I still need you to take care of the advice column,” Erwin warns just after he surrenders to Hange’s enthusiasm that slowly starts to come back to her. “Mike is quite terrible at it.”

“Consider it done, chief!” Hange exclaims with a quick salute.

Erwin smiles and stands up to embrace her. “Then, Hange Zoe, welcome back to Sina’s Gossips.”

Hange is smiling so much, she worries that her face might break.

After Erwin, she runs straight into Nanaba’s arms. As they embrace, Nanaba laughs, then cries, then laughs again.

“God, Hange, I’m so happy you came back,” she says, wiping her tears. “I was this close to dying of boredom.”

“You don’t know boredom until you’ve worked in finance, Nana.”

They laugh in unison, and Hange’s heart is full of affection, when Nanaba wetly kisses her cheek.

Just before stopping at Moblit’s desk, Hange heads to break room and is lucky enough to find Mike eating a sandwich there.

Hange steals it with a delighted laughter, instantly taking a huge bite.

“Never thought I’d miss someone stealing my food,” he shakes his head with a big smile. “But here we are, I guess. It’s good to have you back, Hans.”

At first, Moblit doesn’t actually believe she is real. He rubs his eyes and squints at her, tentatively touches her arm, gives her another once-over, and whatever he noticed – perhaps, it’s her mismatched socks – convinces him that he isn’t seeing things.

And then gathers her in his arms.

“They made me work with Levi,” he whispers into her shoulders. “Please, don’t leave me again.”

Hange laughs – she does it a lot today, compensating for that month she spent feeling sorry for herself – and pats Moblit’s shoulder.

“Speaking of our favorite shorty, where is he?”

“In his office, probably brooding as always. Since you left, he’s been doing it more often. ”

Hange thanks Moblit with a quick peck on his cheek, and then she is moving again, now heading to her final destination.

The inside of Levi’s office is dark, and awfully quiet. The only sound is the click-clack of the keyboard and the only light comes from the computer screen. It further highlights the dark circle under his eyes and the overall paleness of his face.

Hange clears her throat to get his attention.

Levi’s eyes snap to her, widening almost immediately. There is an ocean of questions, ready to spill from his lips, but Hange doesn’t give him a chance to voice any of them.

“So there is this guy, he’s been sending letters to me since forever. He’s so sweet, a true romantic, and, well, his letters were kinda the highlight of my week,” she pauses to take a quick breath, and continues. “And I’ve been rooting so hard for him, you know? I wanted him to get together with that sweetheart of his, but I also felt like she was kinda oblivious, if you get what I’m talking about. Perhaps, not completely blind, but with a vision poor enough to miss what is right in front of her. Or, perhaps, she always has her head up in the clouds and the guy is a little short, so it’s easy to miss him? And-”

“So you’ve figured it out then?” Levi interrupts her. His calmness makes Hange more nervous.

“I have.”

“Only now?”

“Yes.”

“Hm,” a ghost of a smile dances around his narrow lips. “Completely blind then.”

Hange huffs, but she can’t resist a smile of her own. She takes a step towards his desk, hopping right on top of it.

“Just so we’re clear,” she touches his forearm, slowly moving her hand up to his shoulder. “You weren’t my reason to leave, Levi. And you aren’t the reason I’m staying. But,” she leans in, hoping that Levi is not as stupid and she is, and he gets the hint that she wants him to lean closer too. “You’re the reason I decided to come back. And for that, I can’t thank you enough.”

Hange closes her eyes, when Levi gently cups her cheek. With bated breath, she waits to feel his lips on hers.

Her lover boy doesn’t disappoint, and the gentle, loving kiss makes her head spin.

After a short moment of bliss, Levi pulls away, and Hange has to forcefully stop herself from chasing after his lips. He smirks at the dazed look in her eyes, and Hange just has to retaliate.

She strokes the skin of his cheek with the most tender of touches, shortening the distance between them with tantalizingly slow speed. Just when they’re less than a breath apart, Hange whispers, in a quiet, endlessly soft voice, “You know, Levi, wings of freedom is a really stupid username.”

Levi pushes her off the desk for that, but it’s still worth it. Even more so, since he catches her right in his arms.

And then her lover boy kisses her again. And again, and again, until her heart is so full of love that she can’t even find it in her to get angry at Mike, who snaps a picture of them and runs away to tell everyone the news.

“They’ll be gossiping about that for weeks,” Levi grumbles.

Hange laughs, smoothing the crease between his eyebrows. “Well, it’s Sina’s Gossips we’re working at. And didn’t you know? Love for the gossip is the requirement to get a position here.”

#basically yet another silly romcom from me :)#levihan

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