#oh whats this! a nice community that it took me effort to force myself to speak in bc i have gad! and i was finally feeling comfortable in!

[grayscalee]

In an incredibly baffling turn of events, the official palia discord decided to turn on *required* 2fa and forcibly shunt everyone who cant afford that out of the community (which btw according to the mods- "this should not impact your ability to play the game or make connections within the world of palia" 😐)

So if anyone has any server links or anything of the likes :) id love to be sent some now that im forcefully locked out of the literal ONLY palia community i had :)

[happyselves]

Budapest { Lando Norris x reader one shot }

Breaking up sucks as it is, but to be dumped in an airport where you were going to a grand prix of formula 1 was worse … It was both of your dreams and he renounced it because of insecurities toward you. Admitting a “mistake” he had made with one of your commun friends, sleeping with her. You had to think fast in that airport, either you leave and go live one of your dreams or you step out of his place and go back home and cry for weeks. The answer was quickly found. You leave him and his baggage, not turning your back, deciding to not cry for the asshole you had spent so many time building a life he had destroyed in a snap of his fingers.

However the grand prix didn’t happen how you wanted it to. You had not really thought of him, too busy with the environment around you, sharing for your favorite drivers, freely wearing his merch that you had bought because you didn’t have any reason not to know that you didn’t have someone telling you off. Your now ex used to hate when you were showing your obsession and fascination toward the young driver that was Lando Norris. The dit driver had a great start but all his effort went in vain when the Mercedes driver hit the back of his car and ruined his race, forcing him to retire.

At first you didn’t know how to react, but when you saw him on the big screen in front of you, all the sadness and frustration and all the anger and hatred toward your ex boyfriend was transferred to this. You wanted to leave right away, but you stay, to support your team because Daniel Ricciardo was still in the race. You cheered as much as you could, exhausting yourself mentally and physically but it wasn’t enough and the number 3 car was too damaged to reach the point in the head. It was a shame, but that is the hard law of this sport. After this terrible race you had no heart in celebrating the win for Ocon even if you were extremely happy for him, so you went back to your hotel and went to bed.

The next day was quiet and you spent time in the city, you didn't feel great so you just walked through the city and visited stuff … alone. This time no crowd and loud car could distract you from your own thoughts. Your ex boyfriend was all you could think about now. The memories you had together, the dog, the apartment. By leaving and not facing it you were pushing the moment and you knew it will hurt even more next time you will have to face him.

It was the evening and it was getting cooler, you get your merch hoodie out of your bag and wear it. You find a nice spot on a bench in front of the river crossing the city and you put yourself in a cocoon, your legs closed to your chest and your head on your knees, hugging yourself for comfort as you watch the sunset. The tears came on their own, you were lost in your thoughts and you didn’t notice the man sitting next to you. You were so lost that you were now hearing Lando talking to you in your brain.

“You know it’s a pretty spot to watch the sunset, but not alone,” You puff a quick laugh, even your own mind was making stuff up and you didn’t know why, but you were ready to have a full conversation with yourself. At least your brain was nice enough to create someone that looked like your favorite driver. “ That’s funny, I’m that desperate that I’m talking to myself now, great, next stop the psy,” you weren’t waiting for any response, but you got one anyway. “ Well maybe your brain isn’t making this up ?” Another sound came out of you, were you ready to have a full argument with your own self. “ It wouldn’t be the first time I’m daydreaming about a handsome man talking to me out of nowhere, but I know my luck, why do you think I got dumped just before going on vacation ? I’m nothing … “ You were resigned, the tears kept falling and the pain kept coming. “ Well then he is an idiot, to let a beautiful woman, with great taste may I have, go. This man is obviously blind.” You had a great imagination to be able to hear Lando’s voice so clearly in your head that it felt like he was just next to you.

You turn your head toward what you thought the voice was coming from and there he was, sitting next to you, looking at you with fondness. Damn you really needed help if even your blurry eyes by the wet tears could recreate his whole body and face in front of you.

At any point you thought it might be true even if you were both in the same city, the odds were too big and he would probably be in his hotel room by now enjoying some games with his mates on his computer or watching netflix.

“ That’s not fair that you create this for me, I do not deserve to have such a beautiful daydream like this, seeing him this weekend from afar was one thing but to now trick me and build this masquerade in my mind to ease my pain, that’s really new brain.” You were feeling crazy and you were trying not to sound like one, you were talking to yourself and you were scared that others will think of you as someone with less sanitary than an average human being.

Yet, your fake Lando get closer to you and start touching your arm, you didn’t even flinch when you sense his touch, you know you wouldn’t be able to feel anything because if one thing you learn is that touching isn’t a sense the brain is capable of reproduction to the perfection in your brain when you are dreaming. Then why were you feeling it, why suddenly his touch felt so reassuring and real. You blind repeatedly trying to wake yourself from this sweet dream you were living because this couldn’t be real and it was starting to feel scary.

Lando didn’t move his arm from you even if you tried to gently push him away and put some distance back between you. You weren’t certain this wasn’t reality anymore because as you took his arm, you felt him, your grip on him was real. You lock your eyes on him, focusing on every detail of this creation in your own mind. You knew the shirt he was wearing and the shorts as well, you knew how he looks after running as well so that was a normal thing, but every little detail of him only a person being super close to him could imagine, that you had never experienced and yet here everything was here in front of you. He never felt so him and so real in the flesh. Your fingers found the scruff on his chin and felt the small hair tickling your palm.

That’s where you realise … Lando Norris was in front of you, in the flesh as real as you wear. You come back right back to your senses when you see the sunset and keep drawing beautiful colors in the sky. Lando was amused by the situation, you weren’t.

“ Oh sleeping beauty is coming back from the daydream ?” Somehow he arranges a lock of hair missing on your face, putting it behind your ear. You jerk at the touch now knowing that you were imagining things. You stand up quickly and try to avoid him, walking like a lunatic in front of the bench right to left. “ You know, you are the first fan I've met that acts like this, quite refreshing. “ You stop and track and look at him, really look at him.

“ How do you know I am a fan of yours ?” If this wasn’t the dumbest question you had ever asked, you didn’t know how to be more embarassing of yourself.

“ Well at first I wasn’t really sure, then I saw you on that bench, curl up in a small little ball wearing my hoodie merch, then you basically confirm it when you thought I was a pure product of your imagination,” You were hiding your face now, you bet your cheeks were red. You were mortified to ever have thought you were this desperate that your brain could be creating him, but even more when you knew he had to witness that.

“ I’m sincerely sorry, I ruined your evening run, “ You were apologizing to him, ready to take your bag and run away from this situation, to forget everything that happened. It wasn’t the best timing for you to meet one of your idols, that’s not how you had imagined things to go if one day you would have the courage to try and meet him.

As you tried to take your bag, he stopped you and took your arm. It was like the first, but this time all you could think about was the butterflies appearing in your stomach. Lando was the only person you could dump your boyfriend for … your ex-boyfriend. Before you had time to dive in your thoughts once more he spoke to you.

“ Please don’t go, I should be the one apologizing, I let you think you were insane because I was amused and you’ve made my day to be honest. I felt less alone. “ He was brutally honest suddenly and your heart shattered even more, making your recent break up put on the second plan, focusing on the man in front of you only.

It’s true that you didn’t notice at first, but he was looking tired, not only physically but mentaly. He brings you closer to him, silently asking you to sit where you were in the beginning.

You were both smiling to each other and without any of you being able to control it you end up talking a long time on that bench, not realising it was now dark. Only when Lando’s phone buzzed did you both realise that you had been exchanging your deepest secrets to each other, telling each other's life like you were best friends finding their way back to each other. You even forgot he was a famous racing driver at some point, not caring much because you were now truly seeing the man behind the helmet and you like him even more.

You sense a sort of sadness when he picks up his phone to respond to his manager. Of course they were worrying, he told them he was gone for half an hour, not three hours. You thought he would lie about where he was, being cheeky and keeping his privacy and you were ready to take that small hit behind your head that you bring you both back into your respective life, otherwise he surprised you once more by being honest and telling his manager the truth. He was smiling at you and his eyes were glued on your face with that same fondness you thought your brain had made up earlier. He hanged up and his body turn toward you.

“ So as you can guess I have to go, but I have the feeling that if I don’t ask to come with me, it would be one of the biggest mistakes of my life, so … “ He was scared to continue, evaluating the reaction on your face, but he must have seen something in you that confirmed something in him and made him continue, “ I’m not applying anything, it’s to talk obviously, but would you like to accompany me to my hotel and maybe see each other again ? I’m leaving wednesday night, of course you can refuse I wouldn’t take it bad”

Two choices were now in front of you and you could only choose one. The first one was obviously saying no and going back to England where you are from and facing the hard reality of your ex and the second one was to push your plane ticket to next wednesday and spend time with him. There was actually nothing to think about as you simply said yes to him and followed him to his hotel that night. You didn’t do anything, only talking and even meeting the whole team. You tried your best not to fangirl like a teenager but you couldn’t help yourself showing the admiration you had for everyone of them and they already knew with the hoodie you were wearing anyway. That night was one of the best in your life, you talk all night in his room and end up falling asleep on his chest. It is the first time since you’ve been alone that you finally find peace in your sleep and truly rest and somehow you felt it was the same for him. This is why he asks you to stick around with him, even for the Pirelli test. You were not only living your dream now, but you were living it with him and it was even better. You felt lucky and you were now wondering what would have happened if you had not gone to that place and kept those grand prix tickets. You could care less, Lando made you forget all the pain this ex of yours had afflicted you for the past week. You had fun and everyone was so welcoming and nice to you, explaining everything around the paddock, you even found yourself laughing with Daniel Ricciardo at some point during the day.

The looks you send to each other on the other hand were far from being only friendly, there were something more. Your body was acting on its own and he was so receptive to it. Everyone in the garage could sense something that both of you were ignoring, but they were polite enough not to make a word of it or tease the young driver for it. You were secretly thanking them to not make this moment awkward, you were already still thinking you were in a deep dream or coma, not wanting to wake up just yet.

The day went fast and ended up in a nice dinner in his room, still talking and joking. At some point it was the second night in a row you fell asleep on him, while watching something on tv. It really wasn’t your type to trust a stranger even if this one was famous and you “ knew him “. You didn’t want to live dangerously,but for sure that difficult time ahead of you was making you enjoy the best of life without thinking about the next day.

Lando was stroking you slowly as he was finishing the movie you were watching before you found Morphee, kissing your head before turning everything off and joining you in dreamland as well.

You were sure the people at your own hotel were wondering where you were,and when the next day you finally came back to it, Lando quickly behind you, you could swear you had seen a smirk flashing on the front desk woman’s face. You hadn’t expected the man next to you to find a way and arrange the plane ticket you had to take for going home, to be weirdly the same plane as him and the seat next to him. You both didn’t really want to come back to reality and go to your respecting mundane life just yet.

The last day was as good as the day before other than that bittersweet feeling you had depe down, not wanting to let this go just yet. You didn’t know how you could enjoy this little bit of life he had show you, you were already addicted to this lifestyle, to that travel, hotel and paddock life, this crazy life of him and most important you knew how fucked you were because you realise soon enough that you were already addicted to him quite simply.

Both of you were staying quiet about your soon departure from each other and until the last moment you didn’t aboard the subject, but every good dream had a end and it’s on that parking lot when you saw the whole team leaving one by one to find their car that you realise it was the end of his fairy tale. Lando had held your hand tight the whole time, you were ready to let it go and leave this mind forever when he decided otherwise and asked you where you were going tonight now that you weren’t with your boyfriend. You hadn’t thought of that of course you hadn’t, how can you think about this when this beautiful and genuine nice man in front of you had replaced as quickly as he came in your life all your thoughts. It’s like he knew right away and didn’t let you answer, your luggage was already in the lack of his car with him and you were both driving to his place. Every woman would be afraid, why weren’t you that was the question.

“ I’m not ready to let you go, I don’t want to, “ That what he said to you as he pull his car in front of his house before adding up, “ I don’t even think I will be able to let you go ever in the rest of my life, “ You didn’t know what to say to that, you were only focusing on him, only him and the only thing you could think about right now was the close that damn gap between you two and kiss him. So you did and it was even more beautiful that the fireworks on national day, the butterflies in your stomach were moving so much that you could feel yourself flying except you were still in this car with him, his hands in your hair, messing the already messy bun you had for travelling, savoring every bit of your lips for the first time, like it was the last. When you finally pull away from each other to catch your breath, your forehead finds him.

“ I’m not going anywhere. “

MASTERLIST

[my-happy-little-bean]

The Rainbow Manor

pairing: platonic DLAMP  words: 5138 warnings: swearing, references to homophobia, toxic/homophobic parents, brief description of a small injury, blood, brief descriptions of panic/anxiety attacks, crying, angst

a/n - hello friends! hope everyone is doing well! i was lucky enough to be commissioned by the lovely @youronelesbianfriend to write this story (side note, their commissions are open too so...whatcha still doin here, go and do that!). i was overjoyed when i saw the prompt she gave me, and had such a good time writing it! (also inspired me to maybe formally advertise commissions? you can peek at my tumblr every now and then to see if i do, but if you also want one you can DM me!)

so without further ado, here is some content ✨

read on ao3!

—

The Rainbow Manor is a lot of things. 

It’s a home for the biggest family that could exist. It’s a safe haven from the cold, stormy outdoors. It’s the kind of blanket made of the same velvet the night sky is made of; it’s quiet, it’s warm, and it’s filled with stars. All it takes is one step inside and you would find yourself filled with a sense of belonging, of hope. 

You could run the furthest distance away from it all, and the Rainbow Manor would always open its doors to you. 

Patton would know. He was the first one to try. 

~*~ 

“Okay, so here’s what happened,” Roman Prince said, looking down at his clipboard as he weaved him and Patton through the halls. “I was going to show the new people around myself, but then I forgot the paperwork in your office — and then I realized, ‘hey, what better person to show them around than The Man himself!’; capital T, capital M!” 

Patton half-heartedly smiled as he snuck a peek at Roman’s papers. 

“How many are there?” 

“Three, so it won’t be too bad. One of them’s Virgil — you remember Virgil, right?” 

“Right.” Patton smiled fondly, remembering Roman’s birthday party last year. Him and Virgil had shown up covered in cake. He never really saw Virgil after that day, but clearly him and Roman stayed acquainted against all odds.

They turned a corner into the break room where three people sat around a table. Roman clapped his hands. 

“Alrighty! Sorry for the wait.” 

All three of them stood up. The one in the black and purple hoodie—the one Patton recognized as Virgil—rolled his eyes. 

“Waiting is part of the contract with you, Princey.” 

Roman faux-gasped. “Hey, that was one time! And if I didn’t take too long that day, we would have taken the wrong cake!��� 

“We did take the wrong cake, Roman. That’s why it exploded.” 

“...Oh yeah.” Roman grinned. “Forgot about that.” 

Virgil shook his head, but showed a hint of a smile. Patton took a step forward to extend his hand out to him. 

“Nice to see you again, Virgil!” He then addressed the two behind him. “And if we’re talking cake, I guess you both can call me Patton-cake!” 

The one wearing a black, short-sleeve button up frowned, adjusting their thin blue tie. 

“I read on the website that your name is Patton Morgan.” 

“It’s like patty-cake, but Patton-cake!” 

“...Right.” 

“Ignore my friend’s simply lively commentary.” The last person stepped forward. They wore a pale-yellow button up under a grey vest. “That’s Logan. Do not be astounded by how that pencil is both sharp and dull — he’s always like that.” 

“And that’s Janus,” Logan seethed, crossing his arms. “They’re always like that.” 

Patton chuckled. “Well it’s nice to meet you both. I’ll show you guys around?” 

They all nodded, following Patton as he led them out the door. The icy awkwardness of first encounters fortunately thawed as conversation quickly blossomed. Patton learned that Logan was the new volunteer manager and was close friends with Janus, who was joining the growing team of counsellors. Virgil, on the other hand, was the newly-appointed social media and communications coordinator; a position Roman used to double as alongside being head of recreation and programming, until he overdid it with the website graphics and crashed the site for two days. Sometimes, change was necessary, Patton learned. 

“So that’s pretty much the whole place!” Patton said brightly at the end of the tour, stopping outside his office. He handed them their job description packages. “I hope you all get situated soon! And if you ever need anything, you now know where my office is!” He motioned to the door with jazz-hands. “Here!” 

“Thank you, Patton,” Logan hummed. He looked around idly. “I must say, I am rather impressed by how well-established and organized the facility is, especially for one that is fairly new.”

“Well call me corny, ‘cause all I can say is ‘aw shucks’!” Patton beamed. “You know, if you told me almost a year ago that I’d be standing here today, I think I’d be impressed too!” He nudged at Roman. “But I obviously didn’t do any of it alone. It’s the people that really make this place home — people like Roman, who’s been with me since the very beginning!”

“Oh, Patton! You make me sound like the hero of this place.” Roman pretended to flip his hair. “So thank you!” 

“A humble hero,” Virgil retorted. Roman just stuck out his tongue at him.

“But in all seriousness, Patton’s downplaying his efforts to the floor!” Roman wrapped an arm around Patton’s waist and pulled him in close. He waved out in front of him. “He’s a true phoenix who rose from the ashes and built this place with his own two hands!” Roman then spun Patton away from him, a trail of giggles following suit. “Plus he does a bunch of other stuff too! He has, like, a gazillion side-gigs, he sometimes volunteers at an animal shelter…” 

“It sounds like you may also be interested in a day off,” Janus piped up.

“It’s really not that much!” Patton awkwardly shuffled where he stood. “I...I like staying busy.” 

Janus tilted their head at him. “Right.” 

Patton shot them a quick smile before diving back into the end of their paperwork. Then the three of them, along with Roman, said their goodbyes and scattered to their respective offices. 

Patton leaned against his office door with a wry smile. They all seemed like nice people, he thought. He was lucky to have them. 

(Roman’s words from weeks ago echoed in his head; the same words that were said to him the night of his first breakdown, when they first called.

“You need all the help you can get, Pat.”) 

And he needed all the help he could get.

~*~ 

A few days later, Patton found himself leaning against the front of his desk, outstretching his hand towards the teen in front of him. 

“Jonah, your feelings are valid, no matter what they are.”

The words slid off Patton’s tongue almost effortlessly. Jonah sniffled. 

“I know, Pat. And– and I’ve already made a lot of friends here that have told me that. It’s been so good for me here, but…” Jonah buried their face in their hands. “Every night before I go to sleep, I can’t stop thinking about what they told me before they kicked me out. It’s like I get tunnel vision. I can see the person I have grown to be on the other side, but all I’m doing is going backwards.” 

Jonah looked up at Patton with teary eyes. “And I don’t wanna go back, Patton. I...I don’t want to go back.”

Patton felt a chill run through his spine. Quiet echoes buried themselves in the back of his mind. 

“I understand that it’s difficult to feel like you’re moving forward when it feels like the most important people in your life are pushing you back. And it...it sucks. I’m so sorry.” Patton swallowed down the temptation to cave as he continued. “I...I think all we can do is remember that those important forces in your life aren’t what’s given to you, but are what’s found. And I feel like you’ve done a lot of searching — for now, try and let yourself be found.”

Jonah broke into a small smile. Before Patton knew it, the teen stumbled forward into an embrace, holding Patton tight and crying. Patton’s hands hovered in the air behind their back, unsure of what to do. Eventually, Patton came to his senses and hugged them back. 

“I’m thankful I found this place,” Jonah mumbled into Patton’s chest. “It’s– it’s built on a lot of hope. I don’t think I could have found it anywhere else.” 

Patton’s heart shattered.

‘I wish I could give you more.’ He squeezed Jonah tighter. ‘I’d give you all I had, and you’d never know.’ 

Jonah left a few minutes later, thanking Patton for giving them a space to be honest. All Patton could do was nod numbly. He knew Jonah was new and it was hard to be new here, but Patton was certain that they’d find their place. The kids who came here always did. 

Patton walked around his desk to sit down. He took one look at his phone, frowned, then set it aside with a sigh. For a brief moment, Patton relished sitting in the precious silence that finally found his office. 

Then, a knock on his door. 

“Come in!” Patton said, straightening up and folding his hands neatly on his desk. The door cracked open and Logan’s head peeked in. 

“Is this a good time, Patton?” 

“Yeah, of course!” 

Logan stepped inside and handed some papers to Patton. 

“I filed through the volunteer applications and started arranging interviews in the coming weeks. I just wanted to run the dates by you before I start contacting people. Hopefully they suffice.” 

“Wow! Thank you, Lo.” Patton took the papers, slowly sifting through them. “These look really good! I’ll have a look at them tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Logan echoed. “Are you staying late again?” 

“Oh! Yeah, I am.” Patton shrugged. “Just a bit of extra paperwork.”

“Well if you require any assistance tonight, I can stay around–”

“No, no! That won’t be necessary.” Patton waved his hand dismissively. “Go and enjoy your night, Lo.”

Logan’s stare seemed to bury itself through Patton, enough for Patton to look away. 

“...Well, please do not hesitate to let me know if you need anything else.”

As Logan was leaving, Patton felt his phone buzz. He snuck a peek and paled.

‘Missed call(s): Mother (2) - 5:34 PM’

“Um, leave the door open, Lo!” Patton suddenly blurted out. Logan turned around and tilted his head. Patton flimsily added, “I– I think I’m going to try and get some air.” 

Logan nodded, lifting his hand off the door handle before walking out. Patton took a deep breath and then stuffed his phone in his pocket before leaving as well. 

—

Later that evening, Patton wandered into his office in a daze. He turned the lights on and inwardly groaned at the stacks of paper awaiting him. 

He dragged his feet to his desk, only stopping to check his phone. The ‘missed call’ notification lingered, except now the number was ‘3’. 

Patton felt his jaw tighten. He couldn’t run forever. 

As he sat down, he noticed a small cup behind one stack of paper. He grabbed it. The smell of coffee swarmed his head. He smiled, noticing a small sticky note on its side. 

“Keep up the great work. Your friend, Logan.”

 ~*~

“Okay everyone! Grab your brushes!” 

Patton blinked. Somehow, his memory of the manor floors failed him, and he ended up in the recreation room. He felt eyes stare up at him, Roman’s included.

“Ah, Patton! Man of the hour! What brings you here?” 

Patton sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “I, um, got lost! If you could believe it, heh.” 

“ ‘Lost’ is just a way of saying ‘found, but with a few extra steps’!” Roman motioned to an empty seat. “How about you join us for a bit?” 

Patton opened his mouth to protest, though felt cornered by all the expectant stares. He even spotted Jonah, who smiled and waved at him. Patton sighed. He had been wound up for days now; perhaps Roman’s theatrics was all he needed.

He finally nodded, going over to sit in front of the vacant canvas. Roman grinned at him with a warmth Patton let himself melt into. 

“Alright! Let’s begin.” Roman cleared his throat. “I want you to pull on the colours of your heartstrings. Forget form, structure– even an outline. Your emotions know no bounds, after all! Just remember, your hand is not controlling the brush — it’s your heart.”

Patton felt the words wash over him. Roman, of course, was right; he didn’t even notice his hand moving as he painted. Though somehow, it didn’t feel as peaceful as Roman described it to be. Instead, it felt like something was being pulled out of Patton, as though a claw was scooping something out of his chest and spilling it onto the canvas. 

Suddenly, his ringtone cut through Roman’s monologue. Patton jumped, dropping his brush. A line of paint dragged across the canvas as it fell. All eyes were on him again. 

“Um, excuse me! I– I’m just going to take this.” Patton pressed answer without looking at who called as he stumbled out of the room. 

“Hello?” 

“I see you’ve finally answered.” 

Patton’s heart dropped.

—

Roman was halfway through the end of his monologue when, in the corner of his eye, he spotted Patton re-enter the room, head ducked.

“Ah! I’m glad you’re back!” 

Patton nodded, but in the stilted way Roman quickly recognized. His eyes looked Patton up and down, barely listening to Patton’s stammering apology for interrupting. His hair was disheveled, which meant he ran his hand through it far too many times. His eyes were red, his jaw was tight– 

He was crying. 

“Anyway, I’m sorry again for leaving so soon!” Patton’s voice brought Roman back to reality. “Keep painting you guys! I gotta Van-Gogh!” 

A shaky laugh followed Patton out. Roman frowned, but he nodded for everyone to continue. He passed by Patton’s canvas and snuck a peek. 

It was rather abstract, with overlapping strokes forming a gradient. Roman’s gaze followed the gradient downwards. The canvas was filled with dull blues that turned into darkening greys. Towards the bottom was a thin line of black trailed all the way to Patton’s paintbrush, abandoned on the floor.

 ~*~

The sun sets on a long railroad, it goes past the horizon, it outstretches a hand like it’s beckoning, it’s begging you to run, run faster, everything is going faster and they just told you to go so you have to– 

“Pat?” 

Patton shot up in his seat with a yelp. He blinked quickly, vision focusing on the silhouette of–

“Virgil!” A strangled laugh escaped his throat. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!” 

Virgil replied simultaneously, “No, I’m sorry, you just weren’t answering and I got worried, but I didn’t realize you were sleeping–” 

“Sleeping?” Patton looked down at the time. 5 PM. 

“Oh sh– shoot, I’m gonna be late.” 

“Late for?” 

“Animal shelter,” Patton mumbled, stumbling out of his chair and grabbing his bag. “I forgot that I said I’d come in today– gosh how could I forget–” 

“Hey.” Virgil rested a hand on Patton’s shoulder before Patton could go spiralling out the door. “Deep breath. I’ll drive you, it’ll be okay.” 

Patton opened his mouth to protest, but remembered the time. He sighed and motioned wordlessly at the door. Virgil nodded, leading the two of them out towards the parking lot.

“Anyway, I’m sorry if it’s a bad time, I was just hoping to run some website revisions by you,” Virgil said as he started the car and backed out of the lot. Patton shakily smiled. 

“No! It’s not a bad time at all, you can tell me about your ideas as you drive!” 

“There’s not much. I was just thinking of ways to maybe make it more approachable. There’s not even really an ‘about us’ page or anything about you–” 

“Why would there need to be anything about me?” 

Virgil looked at him, almost confused. “It’s an amazing organization, Pat. Your name should be up there, especially as the founder…?” 

“Oh! R-Right.” Patton let out a sharp laugh. “I guess I never thought about it before.” 

“I could put something together tonight, I was just thinking it'd be cool to hear you talk about it.” Virgil turned at an intersection. The sign of the animal shelter soon came into view. 

“I guess that’d be a good idea!” Patton shrugged. “But there’s, um, not really anything interesting to know.” 

Virgil frowned, falling quiet as he parked the car. When they stopped moving, Virgil turned to face him. 

“Say, would it be okay if I joined you?” Virgil shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “I, um, have a bit of a free night, and I was thinking that maybe I could just ask you stuff for the website now so I don’t have to bother you later…?” 

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that sounds perfect! Liz will probably be okay with it. I think it’s bath night for the dogs, and we can always use an extra hand with that!” 

Virgil chuckled, following Patton out the car and into the animal shelter. 

Patton gathered the energy he had left to greet Liz and everyone else, already cooing over the various animals he and Virgil passed by. They reached the back and, with only a bit of struggle (Patton would never admit to these cute dogs being a struggle), took each dog a bath. All the while, Virgil asked Patton questions about the Rainbow Manor and his life in general, which Patton did his best to answer.

“I ended up founding the Rainbow Manor a year after I graduated.” Patton wiped his brow as they finished drying the last dog. “I had been living on Roman’s couch for so long after being kicked out and I just wanted to turn it around; not only for myself, but for other people.”

Virgil’s stare softened. “I– I’m sorry. N-Not about how you founded the place but, like...why you felt like you needed to. That must’ve been hard.” 

“Yeah.” Patton forced a shrug. “It is what it is. Sometimes, you have to get lost to be found, right?” 

“Right.” Virgil looked up at Patton. “Do...do you still keep in touch with them? Your parents, I mean.” 

Patton felt his heart squeeze. 

“It’s been so long,” he finally said. “I doubt they’d want to talk to me.” 

—

Virgil offered to drive Patton back, but Patton insisted on taking a cab home. Virgil reluctantly conceded, but promised to email Patton when he drafted the additions to the website. Patton just nodded and watched Virgil drive off. 

When he was sure that Virgil was completely gone, he shakily pulled out his phone and called a cab. 

“Hi! I– I just need to go to The Rainbow Manor,” he said to the driver as he climbed into the car. He found himself laughing. “Long work day. It is what it is.” 

~*~

Days passed, and Patton’s workload somehow doubled: new admissions, new initiatives, new everything. 

(And his mother kept calling. And calling. And calling.) 

To say it was a lot was an understatement. 

Patton found himself going back and forth along the manor halls, forcing a smile at those he passed. He closed his eyes, turning a corner before he knocked into someone. 

“Crap! I– I’m so sorry.” Patton quickly scrambled to gather the papers that had fallen onto the floor. 

“Oh, don’t apologize, I always thought that important documentation would make for good confetti– ah, hello, Patton.”

Patton looked up. Janus appeared above him, outstretching their hand to help Patton up. Patton took it, scooping the papers up as he went. 

“Janus! Hi! Well, if you’re looking for me...here I am!” He laughed, though it sounded scratchier than expected. “Everything okay?” 

“More than, thank you. I just wanted to follow up about my schedule for the new admissions? You mentioned yesterday that I should come to you but I couldn’t find you…” 

Patton winced. His chest tightened.

“F– I forgot, goodness how am I always–”

“It’s quite alright, Patton, I can always–” 

“I–It’s not okay!” 

In the corner of his eye, Jonah passed by. He felt their wide eyes on him. The air grew thinner.

“It’s– gah, it’s never fucking–”

“Oookay. We’re not okay and that’s...okay.” 

Janus suddenly took Patton’s arm and led him to their office. They swiftly kicked the door shut with their foot as they let Patton settle on the couch. 

“Breathe for me,” Janus said slowly, pulling up a chair and sitting across from Patton. They took Patton’s hand and motioned for him to follow their lead. “In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8…” 

They repeated this a few more times until Patton let go of his head and his breathing evened out. 

“I– I’m so sorry, Janus. I don’t know what–”

“It’s fine, Patton. I’m glad I could help.” A pause. Janus leaned back in their chair. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” 

“No, everything’s fine.” 

Janus raised a brow. 

“Okay, everything’s not fine. But...but it will be fine. I have to be fine.” His mind drifted to Jonah. Patton buried his face in his hands. 

“I can’t be like this,” he said, tears threatening to fall. “I...I just can’t. Not now, this– this can’t be happening now.”

“Unfortunately, these things tend to find us — not the other way around.” Janus squeezed Patton’s hand in a sudden moment of softness. “I...I know what this is, Patton. And I don’t have to tell you what to do because I know you know. You help so many people like you, but remember: when the plane is falling, you have to put on your oxygen mask before you help someone else.” 

Patton locked eyes with Janus for a split second, opening his mouth to respond when he felt his phone ringing. Reflexively, he pulled it out in front of his lap. The air disappeared once more. 

‘Incoming call: Mother’ 

Patton quickly pressed ‘decline’. He then looked up at Janus, whose eyes darted upwards as well. 

Shit. 

“I– I have to go.” 

“Wait, Patton–” 

“Thank you for everything, Janus,” Patton mumbled, and before Janus could reply, Patton sped out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

 ~*~

“I just don’t get it,” Roman muttered, leg bouncing under the table in the break room. “I’ve never seen him like this before.” 

“You haven’t?” Janus circled the table like a hawk. 

“What makes you think I have?” 

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that he has about a thousand jobs! Or perhaps it’s that he’s been staying overnight every night to work as if he owns the place — oh wait! He does! But I have no idea why that might be stressful at all!” 

Roman glowered at them, but said nothing. 

“I can imagine that his workload presumably doubled this past month,” Logan, sitting across from Roman beside Virgil, adjusted his glasses. “Between the new admissions, growth in our volunteer admissions…” 

“Okay, so he has a lot on his plate!” Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. “But I’ve seen him stressed out about these sorts of things. This is different.” 

“So what else could be on his mind?” Virgil piped up. 

Janus suddenly stopped in their tracks. 

“His mother.” 

Roman’s heart dropped. “His– his what?” 

“She called him while Patton was in my office,” Janus murmured. “He left straight after.” 

Virgil frowned. “Why would he...” 

Roman felt as if he had burst into flames. The pieces clicked together in his head.

“The– the fucking nerve of that woman, I can’t believe she’s still–”

“Roman, what are you talking about?” Logan cut in.

Before Roman could respond, he felt a buzz in his pocket. He immediately pulled out his phone. His breathing hitched. 

‘Help.’

“It’s Patton,” he blurted out, stumbling out his chair and making his way out of the room. Everyone exchanged looks, but quickly followed suit. 

Roman weaved his ways through the halls until he neared Patton’s office. Loud sobs were muffled behind the door. Roman felt his heart breaking already as he opened it. 

And there was Patton, on the floor, crying, and surrounded by shards of broken porcelain. Roman recognized it as a vase he had painted for him years ago. He winced seeing small drops of blood surrounding the pieces. His eyes quickly scanned the room as Logan immediately tended to Patton. 

“What happened, Patton?” Logan murmured as Patton curled up closer to him, sobs still wracking his body.

“I– I’m so sorry.” Each word sounded like it was forced out of his lungs and into the air. “I– I tried to clean up, I’m sorry–” 

“Shh, Patton. It’s okay.” Janus knelt down beside him, carefully lifting Patton’s wrist to examine his hand. A long cut ran across his palm. Janus looked up at Roman and Virgil.

“There’s a first-aid kit in my office, as well as a broom and dustpan. Can one of you grab it?” 

Virgil nodded wordlessly, exiting the room. Roman noticed Patton’s phone beside Patton on the ground, and reached over to pick it up. 

“What did she say, Pat,” Roman asked, fear edging the quiet of his voice. The words seemed to stab at Patton and let out more sobs. 

“She– she found out about everything,” Patton wheezed through tears. “The– the Rainbow Manor, where I am– she wants to take it all– she can’t take it all–” 

“Patton, I need you to follow my breathing, okay?” Janus interrupted, motioning at their chest with their hand as they inhaled and exhaled. “Can you see my hand? I want you to try and follow along, okay? 

Patton numbly nodded, trying to breathe through hiccups and sobs. Janus repeated the exercise with Patton for at least fifteen minutes, with Virgil returning halfway and Logan moving to sit in front of Patton to start tending to the cut. Virgil carefully swept around Roman, Janus, Logan, and Patton on the floor. 

“Whatever she told you, it isn’t true,” Roman said after Patton’s breath had evened out. “She can’t touch you here, not with us around.” 

“I– I know,” Patton sniffled. Logan finished bandaging Patton’s hand and offered him a tissue from the box on his desk. “She said so many awful things, but– but the scariest part is that she didn’t stop at just saying things.” 

“What do you mean?” Logan murmured. 

“She...she threatened to shut the Rainbow Manor down.” 

“What?!” Roman shot up from the floor. “But– but she can’t–” 

“You know my mom, Roman,” Patton whimpered. “She has connections all over the city. If she wanted to, she would find a way.” 

“So why hasn’t she?” Janus asked quietly. A beat of silence. Patton brought his knees closer to his chest and buried his face between them. 

“She– she wants a percentage of the donations,” Patton finally admitted. 

“What the fuck,” Virgil growled, stopping in his tracks. 

“I know! It’s– it’s impossible, I–” Another sob. Logan and Janus moved closer to him, with Janus putting their arm around his shoulder. 

“What did you tell her?” Janus pressed on. 

“I– I told her no! Even if I wanted to, I can’t, but– but what else can I do?” Patton looked at his bandaged hand and grimaced. “And of course she got mad, and I freaked out, and I knocked over the vase– god, Roman, I’m sorry about the vase–” 

“The vase is replaceable,” is all Roman said. “You aren’t.” 

Patton just nodded, looking up at the four of them in his office with teary eyes. 

“What am I going to do?” 

Everyone exchanged looks. Roman lowered himself back to the floor beside Patton and wrapped him in a warm hug.

“You’re not going to do anything,” Roman said firmly. 

“Roman…”

“All your life, you’ve taken care of people like they were your family, Patton. Please, let your family take care of you.” 

Patton sniffled, looking around him. Virgil, Logan, and Janus nodded with small smiles, moving closer to him and joining the embrace. 

And Patton just nodded, dissolving into tears; except this time, Roman could feel the relief from them. He felt Patton melt in his touch and smiled to himself, a similar relief washing over him as well. 

(And for a moment, just a brief moment, Patton was home.)

~*~ 

One week later…

“Keep your eyes closed…” 

“Roman, I don’t know how many more walls I can keep bumping into!” 

“Just a little longer, I promise!”

Patton giggled, letting himself be led by Roman through more halls. Then, Roman stopped him. 

“Okay, you can open your eyes in 3...2–” 

“I’m opening them now, I’m too excited!” Patton squealed, and then opened his eyes. Suddenly, a burst of colour flooded his vision. 

“Surprise!” a chorus of voices exclaimed. 

Patton broke into a wide smile, blinking to focus on the sight in front of him. He was standing in the recreation room, with a big banner hanging from the back wall reading, “Happy Birthday, Rainbow Manor!”. Beneath it was a table with a cake, which was surrounded by Janus, Virgil, and Logan, alongside a bunch of other teens Patton recognized. Even Jonah was there, wearing a small party hat with a confetti popper in his hands. 

Patton felt tears well up in his eyes. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you remembered!” 

“Of course, padré!” Roman grabbed Patton’s arm and led him around the table to stand in front of the cake. “Always normal for a family to celebrate the man who built their home!” 

“Oh, Roman!” Patton leaned against his shoulder, sniffling. “It’s perfect.” 

He then looked at Virgil, Logan, and Janus. “I can’t believe you guys set this all up, it must’ve taken forever!” 

“Actually, it just took a day,” Logan hummed. 

“And the cake doesn’t explode,” Virgil said with a small finger salute. “I checked.” 

“Additionally, we understand that presents are customary at a party,” Logan continued. “So while our present is not materialistic, we do hope it suffices.” 

“Oh?” 

“Sir Nerds-A-Lot is trying to say that we’re pitching in to give you a few days off!” Roman declared. “We handled a few responsibilities over the weekend while you were home, and split your workload for the week ahead! Consider this the fabulous gift of time!” 

“Oh you guys! You didn’t have to!” 

“But we did, and we did so gladly,” Logan said with a nod. 

“Also–” Janus leaned over to quietly whisper in Patton’s ear– “I took care of your mother.” 

Patton frowned. “You...what? Is– is she…” 

“She’s fine, but she won’t be bothering you for a long time.” Janus winked. “Let’s just say I know people too.”

Patton exhaled a breath he felt he was holding onto forever. He nodded graciously at Janus as Roman handed him a cake-cutter. 

“Alright! Before you take the first slice, you gotta make a wish!” Roman motioned at the lit candles on the cake. Patton stepped forward, closed his eyes for a brief moment, and then blew them out. 

Everyone cheered as Patton was surrounded by hugs and laughter. He felt Janus, Logan, Roman, and Virgil crowd around him as they started to help hand out cake to all the teens. 

And in the back of his mind, his wish echoed in his head. 

‘I hope to always be able to share this home with my family.’

[blueroan-equestrian]

Once upon an Arrangement

Smut.... way towards the end

Gaara x reader

part 2

Gaara Side

Gaara and his council haven’t been seeing eye to eye as they wanted him to marry a woman he never met from a new powerful country he never met. It wasn’t that he was waiting to find the love of his life or anything, he didn’t have time for a relationship and he doubted he’d marry on his own. But to marry someone... someone he never met.... felt wrong even for peace. Sure he had long given up on the idea of having someone to come home to but surely whoever they brought over, she must have dreamed to marry the one she loved not some random leader of some country she never heard of.

He sat in the meeting on whether or not he should consider a marriage to form an alliance with this country, and he had long tuned out the bickering of the old men who sat in front of him. It became clear that they expected him to marry to prevent a war and not look for any other way to settle this. This was the only way. Gaara knew he wasn’t going to have the time to learn the language so he assigned a few ninjas all female to learn the language so his new wife could speak in her native language and have some friends... or at least someone to communicate her needs to.

...

You’re POV

My country called upon me to marry some country leader I had never heard of to unite our countries. I was of course allowed to turn it down, but if my marrying someone, could save our country’s from going to war, it was my duty to go join our country’s together through marriage.

As we flew to a country I never heard of they put me in a large, flowing white gown and a long white veil over my head so I couldn’t see anything. Someone led me off the plane into a car where we drove for what felt like forever and when I got out we were greeted with voices in a language I didn’t understand. Many hands led me somewhere else with more voices that spoke in a language I didn’t understand as a pair of hands held mine. Then after some time my vail was lifted by the hands that had been holding mine, just enough for a pair of lips to come in and lay a soft kiss on my lips, and then laid the veil back down, took one of my hands in his and raised our hands up above our heads and was met with a loud roar and clapping. I then am led somewhere else where I finally have the veil taken off from over my face. I am in a large fancy bedroom with a blonde woman and a tall red headed man with the most beautiful sea foam eyes. He stood tall and with a stiff expression as he said something to me and then to the woman.

“Hello my name is Temari, and this is my little brother Gaara... and your husband. This will be your room. I and a few other woman have learned English for you. I will show you them later...” she paused for Gaara to say something to her. “Gaara is the Kazekage so he won’t be around much but he will provide for you just let me know or one of the staff that he has had prepared for you. Um ... You will meet them tomorrow. Good night.” The two then left me alone.

The room was spacious and and well furnished, and had a balcony with a view of the city that I would now call home. A place where I knew no one and no one loved me. I was alone and tears began to flow down my eyes. I was married to a man who never show me any more affection than the one time he did today, if you can count a small kiss. I was going to be trapped here to be alone utterly alone.

My crying must have been loud because the stern looking blonde woman walked in and her face softened. “Gaara sent me back... his room is right next to yours, he was worried... are you alright?” She asked as she reached out to place a hand on my back.

I nod, and choke, “I’m just homesick already.”

She nodded and patted my back, “I understand, you are going to be alright. Tomorrow me, Hana, and Aika will go out and see the city. You can tell us about your home and maybe we can find something to make you feel less homesick.”

....

Two years in

I sat in my husband’s waiting room reading a book sent to me from home waiting for the opportunity to force my husband to spend time with me. A new thing I learned I could do to get attention. I waited for his meeting to end before slipping in and walking the perimeter to touch everything on my way to him. Then I would sit down on one of the cushy chairs in front of his desk again touching his things. In broken language I learned over the two years I say to him, “What’s this and what was that about?”

He looks at me with the same stony face he always has on when we interact. “(Y/n) that is a gift from the hidden leaf village Hokage, please put it down... thank you. And that was just an update on his latest mission.”

I nodded pretending to care, “Have you seen Temari’s new baby boy?”

He nodded, “Yes very cute...You aren’t here to ask me to... you know.”

“No, you would have to be able to touch me first and a ton of other steps before that could happen.” I joked but he didn’t get it but his brother who just walked in, did.

“She’s right and honestly she’s hot and it’s a pity you don’t put any effort in her. Give the girl some attention, stop making her work for it.”

Gaara thought for a second and then stands up, moves around and takes my hand “He’s right, no matter how busy I am, I should have made time for you instead of having others do it for me. Have you eaten?” I sat there with my hand in his completely shocked but quickly realized what happened and shake my head. He smiled the first time in our relationship, “May I take you to lunch?”

“That um that would be nice.” I smiled.

He held my hand through our walk through the town to the restaurant. People stared at us as we walked and as we ate. We sat at the table eating quietly, when a waiter asked, “Don’t you two ever talk?”

Without flinching I tell them, “Actually this is the most he has ever interacted with me on his own free will and not me just interrupting his work day.”

I was only teasing but he honestly looked hurt and guilty. When we were walking back his fingers were a wiggly mess as they tried to hold onto mine. I squeezed his hand and bumped into him playfully, “You know I was only kidding around right?”

He nodded, “but I should be a better husband, learned your language, spent time with you, and made sure you were alright myself... but I... I was scared...”

I stopped walking, “Scared of what?”

“Of making you afraid of me... like they all were.”

I hugged him burying my face into his chest, “Why would anyone be afraid of you? I have never heard you once raise your voice!”

He patted my back awkwardly, “Oh.... um ok”

I began walking again, “I’m going to teach you English. We’ll use it to bond. What do you say? An hour a day?”

“Alright, we can have lunch together in my office every day.”

“No we need to be moving and experiencing.”

He looks at me with considerate eyes and nods and agreed.

“We start today!” I begin with basic greetings as we walked into his office and then some office things.

Soon he could have moderate conversation with me in my native tongue. “I want you to read this book, okay? It was my favorite as a kid.” I laughed as I handed Gaara a thin chapter book. “And don’t worry I will read it with you. It’ll be a good activity to do together and it’ll give you more vocabulary and practice.”

Gaara held the book in his hands with a look of confusion. He looks at me and says, “Um honey, I don’t know about this, I have to read a lot for work, I just want to relax during our time. Can’t we do something else?”

I deadpan him, “We could make a baby.”

He opens the book and began to try to read the words. I moved to sit on his lap and I could tell he wasn’t sure if I was serious earlier but he leaned back and wrapped an arm around me so I could get comfortable. While he and I began our reading journey a knock on his door saved him from the book we were reading, “come in!” He practically sang.

I raised my eyebrows but said nothing as Kankuro stepped in. When his eyes landed on us he stepped back, “uh should I come back?”

“No! I mean no come in.” The two spoke in their native language so quickly I couldn’t understand. They talked for a little over an hour with me on Gaara’s lap as if I weren’t there then Kankuro left and Gaara turned to me, “Um... honey... Kankuro .... um he thinks that I should have... that we should have a um... talk? Yes talk about um ... if we want um babies because you brought it up and um... do you want a baby?”

I laughed and leaned in to kiss him, “Honestly.... I wouldn’t mind. I think we would make adorable babies.”

“Adorable?”

“Yes you know... cute.” I giggled.

He nodded with a serious look, “Alright, I’ll do some...”

“Research.” I teased knowing him all to well.

“Yes research. And then we can uh...”

“Did you never get the talk?” I giggled.

The look on his face gave nothing away, “the talk?”

“Yeah, like sex and how babies are made.”

“I know how babies are made, I have a one and a half year old nephew.” He grumbled.

I chuckled kissed him and hopped off his lap, “Alright sweetheart, I know you have work to do... will I see you at dinner?”

He nods, “Yes, I’ll see you at dinner... could you send the gaurd at the door in?”

...

Gaara sat at the head of the table, I to his right and Kankuro to his left as we did every night since Gaara decided to be a better husband. The two brothers are normally quiet, only chatting a little. But today there was an air of awkwardness. “What is up with you two?”

The two exchanged looks, “Nothing, sweetheart...nothing how was your day?”

“Oh your going to tell me what is going on... maybe not now but you will... my day was good, I got a new dress.”

Gaara nodded, “Nice, is it nice?”

“Want me to show you tonight?” I asked cheekily. His face turned tomato red at the innocent comment. I smiled, “oh I know what happened!!! You went to big brother for sex advice didn’t you?” I giggled and what made it better was when Kankuro smirked and nodded confirmation. Poor Gaara was so embarrassed but it was too fun not to tease him.

Dinner finished and usually Gaara would go back to work. “Gaara, I was hoping that you could take a break tonight as our hour got interrupted.”

He was still quite flushed but agreed and quietly followed me. He only hesitated when I entered my bedroom. “Gaara I know I like to tease but seriously we should talk... tell me what questions do you have...? Do you want to start having sex? Forget about the baby thing.” I say sitting him on the couch in my room and sit down with him.

He sighed, “I do... I like being able to kiss you when ever I want and I like how it makes me feel...”

“It makes me feel good too.” I hummed reassuringly.

“I... asked Kankuro... how I... how to please a woman.”

I smiled and slipped out of my panties, “Give me your hand and I will show you around.... that’s my clitoris.”

“Should I um suck on it?”

I moaned “If you like, go ahead and get to know her.”

He slipped off the couch and hesitantly prodding at my vagina before leaning into use his tongue causing my hips to snap forward “That’s right....ohhhhhh!” He hummed into my pussy causing me to moan even loader. “Ahhhh just like that!!!!! Again!” He worked me until I arched my back, screaming, and cumming into his mouth. He came back up after I had gone limp.

“Did I do good?” I nodded too heady to voice yet. “Kankuro called that eating pussy.

“Yeah you ate pussy and you did good... do you want me to return the favor?”

“I don’t have a pussy.”

I laughed, “No do you want me to suck your dick?”

“Oh uh .... um okay but only if you want to.”

I chuckled, “You’re always so serious, go lay down on my bed.”

He does and I climbed up on top of him and gently pulled down his pants to reveal his thick leaking precum cock standing up desperately seeking attention. I leaned down kissed the tip before taking him into my mouth earning a sharp inhale. I bobbed head sucking as I twirled my tongue around his shaft as he squirmed until his hot seed shot down my throat and I swallowed every single drop of it. I fixed his pants before crawling up him and snuggled into his side. He looks at me with such satisfaction, “Wow.... that... that was just wow!”

“Gaara?”

“Hmm?”

“Stay with me tonight.”

...

Gaara started to spend his nights in my bed, I in a pair of panties and an oversized T-shirt, and he in a pair of tight black boxer briefs. He slips an arm under me and the other in my hair as I snuggle into him using him as a pillow. When I wake up he is always staring happily down at me. “Good morning honey.” He would hum.

“Good morning... love... Do you have to go?”

He kissed my head, “Yes... but um I have something special for us tonight.”

I smiled up at him, “well I have something for you right now.” I hummed going underneath the covers to go down on him before sending him off to work.

Today I knew I wouldn’t see him for the majority of the day, not even during our normal hour. I am the wife of the Kazekage so I can go absolutely anywhere and I have plenty of people around me but not always in the positive way. I am almost never alone once I leave home. But I struggle to understand the mill of people and today was a little bit more than I could handle. Luckily, Kankuro was around and came to help disperse the crowd. He sat down with me at the little cafe I was at, “You know Gaara would be more than happy to send a gaurd with you when you go out... actually I am pretty sure that is what is the point of your gaurds... where are they? Gaara is going to lose his shit.”

I bit my lip, “I gave them the slip and before I went out into public with Gaara it was alright but now people know who I am and I just can’t be alone ... I just want to be a little normal.”

Kankuro nodded, “Then let me come with you as a friend. What ever you want to do I will go with you.”

I smiled at him, “that’s kind of you...”

After I was ready to go back home Kankuro walked me back, “I will see you at dinner.”

I nod and walk to my room. Gaara would be in a meeting with the elders so I decided to go draw myself a nice hot bath. Eventually I just sank down under the water and listened to the white noise though I had gotten so relaxed I hadn’t even noticed that Gaara had come in and was standing over the tub till he reached in and pulled me up, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” I gasped, “just being alone. What do you want?”

He relaxed and released me and began to remove his now wet white robe. “I was just wondering if you were ... Um..... if you were alright before I started my next meeting, Hana reported you were in here for quite some time.”

“I slipped out and your brother joined me for lunch actually, I’m surprised she didn’t notice me walking back in.” I pouted.

He chuckled and sat on the edge of the tub, “she probably did but she wasn’t going to admit that to me that she lost you.”

“Kankuro did say that you would loose your shit.”

“Well he’s right but I will deal with that later ... are you alright?”

“Yeah... I’m just a little bit lonely.” I say shrinking back into the water.

Gaara stood up and undressed, “Scoot forward sweetheart, I’m getting in.”

I do move forward but I questioned, “What about your meeting?”

He slipped into the water behind me pulling me into him, “It’ll have to wait, my wife needs me more. After our bath we can jump right into my surprise for you.” I relaxed against his fully naked body as we soaked in the large tub. But once the water got cold I moved to get out he pulled me back. “(Y/n) ... I .... you know... I love you... you know right?”

I turned to look at him, “Really? You do?”

He kissed me delicately, “Yes, I love you. I love you so much.”

I smiled, “yeah? I love you too.” I smashed my lips into his again.

We got dressed in clean clothes (he now keeps his clothes in my closet) and he turned to me and says “Baby... honey, I am taking you back home and your going to introduce me to your world. I already have our bags packed and they have a car... they are called cars right?” I nod “a car here to take us to your parents house. Are you ready?”

“Oh my goodness!!!!! Gaara! This is so sweet!”

I fling myself into his arms and he hummed, “Happy anniversary baby.”

I was so excited. We got into the car, a car for the first time in four years, years I tried my best to focus on the new reality and not on what I would no longer have. Positivity is the best way to look at things my mom would always say. When we got to the plane Gaara looked at it with a look I never seen on his face before ... fear? I take his hand, “Are you alright, My love?”

He smiled just a little bit at my last comment, “I’m fine... but um... what is that?”

I couldn’t help but laugh just a little bit, “It’s a plane, it’ll fly us back home. Don’t worry it’s safe. Just hold my hand and you’ll feel better.” I give him my hand and I lead him up the stairs and into the plane. “It’s a long trip home so just relax okay? Don’t tense up just hold my hand until we take off and then I will show you the bed and we can take a nap, alright?” He nodded and I buckled us up before we got ready for lift off. As soon as the plane began to move, Gaara began to hold his breath. “Babe, breath, just breathe, every thing will be alright. It’ll be alright, it might feel funny at first but that’s just the momentum and cabin pressure. It’s perfectly normal just relax, that’s right good job.”

Once in the air I unbuckled us and led him to the bed room. I undressed him and then myself before climbing in bed and pulled the covers over us. He curled into me, “This does feel a little weird.”

“Gaara?”

“Hmm?”

“This was a really sweet anniversary gift, I didn’t get you anything.”

“You gave me you, that’s all I need and all I want.” He whispered kissing my forehead.

...

We get to my childhood house and before I let him open the car door I take both of my hands and turn his face to look at me before trying to fix his hair in some way. He of course sat patiently as I swept his hair side to side nervously. “Okay, um use your English, shake my father’s hand and hug my mother don’t bow ok? Ok uh, you shake my siblings hands but only if they offer alright? And um.... stick by me alright? They already hate you because they blame you for the arranged marriage thing but know that I love you, I do ok?”

“Ok I love you too, it’ll be ok.” We get out and before we reached the door, the door swung open and out my little sister and threw herself into my arms

When I set her down she looked up at Gaara and said, “Who the Fuck is this?”

“My husband, Gaara.”

“Oh can he go away?”

“No, he’s my husband now let’s go inside.” And we do and when it came time to introduce Gaara it became very tense.

“Alright, guys Gaara is my husband and I love him. He makes me happy so be nice.” I scolded.

...

Bedtime rolls around and I lead him to my bed room and we go to the family bathroom together to brush our teeth and use the bathroom. Coming out we got glares from my two older brothers as they stood in the door way of their room opposite of the bathroom. I take Gaaras hand and take him back to my room shutting the door. “I’m sorry baby. They are being such Assholes! You called them and got them all to come home so that you could bring me here and see them. But they treat you like some dictator!”

Gaara smiled gently as he began to strip getting ready for bed, “They just want to protect you, that’s all.” I nod and join him in getting ready for bed the rest of the way. We climbed into bed and he added, “Besides, I’ve been treated much worse.”

I propped myself up, “what? What happened, tell me?”

He gave me a weak smile, and gestured for me to come snuggle with him, “Babe, come on, that’s not important, you don’t need to know that horror of my life.”

I sat up more, “No, I want to know! Tell me.”

He inhaled deeply, “Alright, alright but first I want you to lay down and put your head on my chest and cuddle into me.”

I nod and he tells me about how his dad sealed a demon in him when he was inside his mother’s belly. He was ostracized and demonized, he was made to feel alone and he did some horrible things. Things he was ashamed of and he begged me to let him keep his shame to himself, so I stopped pushing, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried but I am glad that you told me. I love you.”

He kissed the top of my head and began to slip down my body when my mother walked in freezing Gaara at my breasts. “I just wanted to say good night and I am so glad that you’re back... how long will you be staying?”

I groaned, “I don’t know mom, but Gaara is very busy so I am sure it’s not as long as you would like. Can we talk about this in the morning?”

“Oh uh... ok see you in the morning.”

She shuts the door and I immediately shove Gaara’s head down between my legs. Gaara has become quite talented at eating pussy. He makes hard not to scream. I had to smother myself with my pillow. He crawled back up and whispered “beautiful, that was beautiful.”

“Yeah? Want to take it one step further?” I nipped at his bottom lip playfully.

“Are you sure? I mean you’re family is here.”

I smile and pulled on some shorts and threw him his white coat, “Follow me.” I open the window and climbed out onto the garage roof.

He began to follow me, “Sweetheart please, be careful.”

I look at him and simply jump off the roof. He of course follows and keeps close to me. I led him to me and my brother’s childhood treehouse. I stripped off his white coat and laid it out I stripped off my big shirt revealing my bare breasts to him. He looks at me and smiled, “You get more and more beautiful every time I see you. Lay down.”

He disgaurds his briefs and I my shorts. I spread my legs and reached for him, “Careful with me my love.”

He climbed between my legs. He kissed my lips and began to rub his cock between my folds, both of us moaning. “You ready?” I nodded and he slowly began to push into me. He let out a low moan and nipped at my collarbone as he tried to control his hips and his movements.

He was so very gentle and I peppered the side of his head with kisses, “give me it, baby.” He growled and began to thrust into me, admittedly a little awkwardly as it was our first time and we both were experimenting with pace and angles. Gaara began to rut into me moaning into my ear as he begins to lose himself and I just lose control and cum triggering his orgasm and he cummed inside of me. I smiled at him feeling like a teenager sneaking around. After a moment of relaxing against him I got dressed and said, “Come on honey, we can snuggle inside.”

He looks at me happily dressed himself too and follows me back to the roof helping me up and back into my room. Gaara seemed to have relaxed and so we both fall asleep. In the morning we are woken up by my little sister, Halley. “Wake up! Wake up!” She sang as she jumped on our bed. “Mom’s making pancakes!”

She then jumped off the bed and ran out of the room. I get up and shut the door and begin to get dressed, “Honey? Are you alright?” I asked as Gaara, who is a early riser, curled up in bed.

“Yeah... I’m fine .... my head just hurts.” He mumbled.



“Aww got a headache? Do you want some water? I’m going to fetch you some water wait here.”

I trotted down my stairs and into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and my mom asked, “Where’s um Ga-Gaara? It’s Gaara?”

“Yes it’s Gaara, he’s upstairs, I think the jet lag is getting to him, he gots a headache.” I moved to fill the glass and grab the thermometer.

“Why don’t you get him some aspirin? It’s in the cabinet.”

I shake my head, “He’s never had that kind of medication before. I don’t want him having a reaction.” I take the glass of water back to the room, and sit on the bed and rub his back, “Honey, come sit up and drink this water.” He groaned but did as I asked. “That’s it, all of it. Now how’s your tummy feeling? Can you eat?”

“Not hungry.” He moaned sickly.

“Oh? Please lift your arm.” I set the thermometer under his armpit and then held his arm to his side. He rested his head on my shoulder. I have never seen him sick before and as soon as I look at the thermometer I frowned. “You got a low fever... you need to rest. Is there anything else I can get you to make you feel better?”

He lays back down and curled back up, “No I’m fine... go see your family... have fun.”

“I will come check on you in an hour alright? I love you, get some sleep.” I hummed kissing his head.

I go back down stairs to join my family for breakfast. “Where’s the dictator?” My brother laughed.

I glared at him, “He’s not a dictator! He is my husband and you know I really don’t appreciate how you have treated him.”

“Dear...” my mother began but I wouldn’t allow her to continue.

“No! None of you have met him before, you know nothing about him he is kind and polite!”

“But the letters.”

“What letters?”

“You know the ones saying he was hurting you.”

“There was never a way for me to contact you until recently.”

“Oh? Uh... oh dear.” Mom flustered.

“What did you do?” I growled.

“I just put some Hydrangea leaves in his tea yesterday....” she says twisting her fingers together.

Standing from my place I growled, practically screaming, “I can’t believe this!!!! You tried to kill my husband!”

“No... just make make him sick... he’ll be fine in a day or two.” She squeaked.

I grabbed my plate and made one for Gaara before storming back to my room. “Baby? How do feel now? Are you ready for something to eat?” I cooed.

“Mmm...” he groaned “I feel like the room is spinning.”

I set the plates on the side table and then sat on the side of the bed to rub his back, “Aw baby... I’m so sorry. Do you want some more water?”

“No.... I just want to sleep.”

I nod and kiss his head, “okay.... how about a nice hot bath, it always makes me feel better.”

He nodded so I go and draw him a nice hot bath. I then help him to get to the tub. He sit on the toilet as I started to undress him. Once in the tub he seemed to relax. I dropped in a lavender bath bomb into the water and sat on the edge of the tub with him. “Careful, don’t get to close I don’t want you to catch this.”

I look down ashamed of my mother, “Don’t worry... I won’t catch it... my... my mother thought that you were abusing me... so she um... she poisoned your tea.”

“Why would she think I was abusing you?” He asked confused.

“Someone... someone has been writing her. But I swear Gaara it wasn’t me, I would never say such things.” I pleaded that he believed me.

“I know, I know honey... don’t you worry. Just get in and comfort your husband.” I smiled and stripped down and slipped into the water sitting between his legs and my back against his chest.

“Does the water help?” I asked.

He cupped my breasts in his hands and squeezes, “Yes, still a bit queasy and a bit dizzy but this.” He squeezes my breasts for emphasis, “helps.”

I chuckle, “You like my breasts, huh?”

He rested his head against the tile and continued to grope my breasts. After another day Gaara was feeling better and I decided to go ahead and show him the sights, just the two of us and my little sister. He was actually really good with her.

...

Time to go home and I was now sick but not like I have ever been before and my mother is suddenly excited? She ran to the store and returned with a... pregnancy test? “Mom really?”

“Yes go check... come on before you leave hurry up?”

I take it and pregnant... “PREGNANT? But... We only had sex once! Just my luck.” I grumbled

Gaara who had been packing and loading the car came in, “What’s wrong honey?”

“Pregnant!” I answered still in shock.

“Yeah? That’s amazing! I’m going to be a Daddy!” Gaara sang swinging me around.

“Gaara? You want this?” I asked confused. He always seemed to freeze up when I mentioned babies before.

“Of course, we made this baby with love.” He coos with a hand on my belly. “This baby is our manafestation of our love. I can’t wait to tell Kankuro and Temari, they’ll be so excited!”

I smiled softly, “I am glad that you are happy my love.”

....

The attention I got when we got back was a bit much and shaking my guards was lot harder as Gaara would come to check on me and if I wasn’t with them, he would become increasingly more angry with them. “Gaara!” I hollered, “I need my space, these guards are suffocating me! You! You are suffocating me! I realize that I am carrying your baby and you want to make sure it’s safe but for god’s sake it’s in the safest place it can possibly be! In my belly!”

He stood from his desk and walked over to me, embracing me in his arms, “I know you’re frustrated with the gaurd detail but it is as much for your safety as it is for OUR baby. Now Kankuro and I can’t be there all the time, so you’re going to have to have a detail with you.” He leans back to look at me and sighs, “I need you to tell me that you understand....”

“But I don’t!” I grumbled. I wasn’t going to say anything just to put him at ease, that’s what recks marriages but so does stubbornness. “Ok how about this, as long as I am on the compound I don’t need a gaurd just when I leave to go into town.”

He thinks about it and caves, “Alright, that sounds reasonable but if you leave without them we’re going back to full time alright?”

“Alright”

...,,

[slutsfordoves]

Ok I absolutely love the trope of accidentally calling someone daddy and I can't stop thinking about Jaskier doing it to Geralt and Geralt finding he actually enjoys it

YES please and thank you. sorry this took forever, i did in fact start it like 12 seconds after you sent me this ask but...c'est la vie

cw: daddy kink, some mild sadism?, anal gape, and a slightly more humorous tone than i usually write

-----

"What did you say?"

Geralt pauses, though it means his cock is left buried near to the hilt inside Jaskier's arse. The grip of his insides is exquisite, a tight and rippling heat; Jaskier is wet and stretched loose from Geralt's mouth and fingers and a full bottle of rapeseed oil, his body primed for a fucking. It galls Geralt to stop for even a moment, (for this critical moment - the first slide into too-tightness, as Jaskier had begged Geralt not to prepare him fully, had insisted he loved the pain, the burn) when all he wants is to pin Jaskier's hips to the cot, to rut into him rough and deep. But Jaskier had said - that - and Geralt is, perhaps, more easily seduced by a mystery than by even the surest of sexual conquests.

Jaskier himself has gone bright red beneath Geralt's bulk, his eyes wide. He's looking at Geralt as though expecting Geralt might like to wring his neck.

"I just got caught up in the moment," he says, voice low and breathy. "Don't trouble yourself over it."

That doesn't seem right. Geralt peers down at Jaskier. His heaving chest, slick with sweat, the little curls of his chest hair and the puff of his nipples, red from Geralt's teeth. The flush from his cheeks has bloomed across his pectorals, spotting his skin in a way that Geralt finds begrudgingly charming. He's perched on Geralt's cock, his thighs pulled back, knees to chest; and his mouth is scrunched up into a moue, as it is any time Jaskier has something to say and is worrying that Geralt might ask after it. He is clearly attempting to communicate that he wishes for Geralt to just drop it.

"Why?" Geralt asks, not dropping it.

"Why what?"

"Why did you call me that?" He hesitates. Connects a few vague thoughts in his head. "Do you - "

"No! No, no, no!" Jaskier squirms. Geralt swats him lightly on the thigh. Jaskier squeals, and Geralt indulges himself, pressing Jaskier's thighs further back, thrusting and grinding his hips in small, lazy circles just to coax more noise out of Jaskier's throat.

"Careful," he says. Runs a hand from the inner part of Jaskier's knee down to his arse. "Unless you're trying to snap me off inside of you."

"Might suit me better. I'd fuck myself well enough and not ask myself any questions."

"Listen," he says while Geralt chuckles, all in a rush, as though expecting Geralt might try and get another barb in, "I know what you're going to say and no. I do not think of you as a father figure. Strike the very thought from your mind."

"Noted." Geralt leans down to kiss him, and Jaskier swats him back. "Jaskier, if you don't want to explain, you don't have to."

"Hmph. It's not like that. It's just - it's embarrassing."

"You? You're embarrassed? Your immodesty is known the Continent over. I'd wager you're more recognized for your whoring than your music at this point."

Jaskier sniffs. "You speak so sweetly to me when you're rutted up my arse."

Geralt rolls his eyes.

"Jaskier."

"Yes, fine. Alright." It takes him a moment. He still has a look about him, a timidity foreign to Geralt's understanding of him, but he rallies quickly, moves on. "You're just. So strong. You make me feel small and safe and - and loved. Protected. The way a father might."

Geralt nods. This makes sense to him. He digs his thumbs into Jaskier's thighs, rubs soothingly at the muscle; Jaskier correctly assumes he's being encouraged to continue.

"Why, just last night, you chased that boarheaded oaf right out into the street after he grabbed my arse. You remember, don't you?"

He grunts. He remembers just fine. Jaskier was always popular after the end of his sets; loose-hipped with drink, glowing with the praise and adulation of his audience. His joy was infectious, drew eyes like moth to flame. He'd looked particularly fine that night, freshly bathed and perfumed, stripped down to only a cream-colored chemise loose round the collar and tight round the waist. The oaf in question had gotten a broad, ham-thick hand on one of Jaskier's wrists, slid the other down to cup and grope - and Geralt, from his seat in the shadows, had burned.

He'd only had to square off with the man before he'd decided, wisely, to find somewhere else to be. It had been disappointing. Geralt would have liked to have broken the bastard's fingers. 

"Don't look so murderous," Jaskier says. "Nothing happened. You made certain of that. It's just - you didn't need to. I could have defended myself, but - it was nice. To feel so cared for. A bit like a - a father defending the honor of his son."

"Mhm."

"I'd like to please you, make you proud."

That Jaskier had routinely failed at pleasing his own father goes unspoken. As does the fact that Jaskier's father had failed to protect him - had not even cared to try. Jaskier succumbs briefly to a faraway look, but before Geralt can respond, he says,

"And that beard you've been growing doesn't hurt."

Geralt brings a hand to his own chin without much thought, fingers dragging through the white hair there. It's true he's been putting less effort into his morning ablutions as of late. He hadn't realized this lack of effort had been received so favorably (or indeed had been considered much at all).

"You please me just fine," he says, grinding his hips into Jaskier's. He takes hold of Jaskier's narrow hips, moving him, encouraging him to roll, languid, into the stretch Geralt's cock has provided him.

"Flatterer," Jaskier sighs. "And are you, uh. Proud of me?"

"Hm. You take my cock well. And you look pretty enough lying there."

Jaskier preens. A smile bright as the sun unfurls across his face, but there is also a sweetness, a shyness there, in the demur tilt of his head, the pinkness of his cheeks. He seems to Geralt in that moment as fragile and delicate as lace. Yes, he is human, Geralt thinks, he is easily undone by my hand; but now, I could just as easily hurt his heart, and he trusts me and loves me still.

Warmth floods Geralt's chest.

'Say it again."

Jaskier blinks.

"Daddy," he says, uncertain. Unusual for Jaskier to be uncertain of anything. Something about the vulnerable downturn of his sweet pink mouth, the way he peers up at Geralt through thick, wobbling lashes - he is not childlike, but embodies a youthful innocence that arouses a fire in Geralt's belly. Feels as though it goes straight to his already hard cock, throbbing against Jaskier's insides. 

"Again," he says.

"Daddy."

"Hm."

Of course. It would be Jaskier that would unlock this desire within him. This strange, dark part that must have been slumbering until Jaskier had stumbled into it and smashed a broom into its face.

"Good. Keep saying it. You want to be a good boy for me, don't you, Jaskier?"

"Oh fuck, Daddy, yes," Jaskier whines, and clenches down on Geralt like a vice.

---

He pulls himself free of Jaskier's arse. A thick spill of come follows him, leaking out on the cot, soaking Jaskier's thighs. His overworked hole gapes without Geralt having to pull him open; he hooks a thumb against the rim anyway, tugs at his reddened flesh while Jaskier whines and nudges Geralt's chest with his feet. He feels a deep, dark satisfaction at seeing how Jaskier's body has cleaved to him. How Geralt's cock has cored him open, left Jaskier to drip himself dry.

"Don't," Jaskier says. He clenches; Geralt feels the weak pulse of muscle on his thumb, watches another fat dribble of his own spend slide down the cleft of Jaskier's arse.

"Hush. You want me to see how good you've been for me, don't you?"

Jaskier shudders; Geralt can feel his trembling. Jaskier pouts, sniffles, wobbles, heaves watery sighs, but finally says, "Yes, Daddy," and stops trying to move away from Geralt's hand.

He pulls at Jaskier's puffy hole, toying with him; rubs his knuckles against the hard swell of his cock, his balls. Imagines he might move Jaskier to his hands and knees, fuck a few fingers inside of him, disallow Jaskier to orgasm unless his arse is full. Jaskier is sensitive to having his hole fucked after he's spent; Geralt thinks he might force Jaskier to come and keep on fingering him, until he's weeping with it, until he cries and begs for mercy.

Geralt wonders what he would put up with, if only his Daddy were to ask it of him. 

His cock gives a rallying twitch where it lay, limp, against his thigh.

"Jaskier," he says.

"Yes?"

"Do you promise to be good for Daddy?"

Jaskier looks at him, flustered, flushed, his blue eyes shining and wide.

" Oh, Geralt - yes, yes."

[silversatoru]

hot chocolate

megumi x yuuji 

synopsis: megumi’s days get a little less boring when yuuji starts stopping by his coffee shop 

tags/warnings: fluff, college au!, coffee shop au!, characters are aged up, making out, swearing

word count: 3780

The whipped cream bottle whizzed and sputtered, the scarce remains of its contents flying all over the counter. Megumi stifled a few cuss words under his breath, silently cursing whoever finished the whipped cream and didn't replace it with a new one. He tossed it in the garbage and drug himself into the back of the shop in search of a fresh bottle. He was only two hours into his shift at his university's coffee shop, but it had easily been the longest two hours of his life. Midterms were this week, meaning every student on campus was stopping by for some extra caffeine to get through their day.

When he finally returned with his new container of whipped cream, the line of students had nearly doubled — what a hassle. He threw a quick, fluffy spiral of cream onto the drink he'd been working on and gave it to the customer, apologizing for the wait. He shoved the money into the old cash register and handed them their change, a small sigh leaving his lips as the next customer approached.

It was an athletic looking boy with pink spiky hair and a round face. He wore a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, and his rose-colored hair looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. Megumi didn't recognize him, which was weird because he had a knack for memorizing the faces of every student who walked in and out of the shop.

"Hi, what can I get for you today?" Megumi spoke in his signature monotone voice, too tired to add any customer service flare.

"I'm not sure," The boy stared up at the menu with a terribly confused expression on his face.

"What do you mean you're not sure?" Megumi stared at the boy like he had two heads — he'd been waiting in line for at least ten minutes and he still hadn't decided?

"Well, I don't actually like coffee. So, I'm not sure what to get," he stated bluntly.

"If you don't like coffee, why did you come to a coffee shop. We literally only sell coffee," Megumi deadpanned.

"Well, I want to try and force myself like coffee — acquire the taste, you know? For the caffeine and stuff. Maybe you could recommend me a drink?"

"Uh... yeah sure. I'll just make you what I usually get," Megumi had to forcibly stop himself from rolling his eyes at the customer.

"Okay, great!" The pink-haired student called after him as he walked over to the array of coffee machines.

Megumi grabbed a cup for hot beverages, sliding it under the latte machine and filling the it with the warm brown liquid. He stirred in some oat milk and a drizzle of honey before topping it off with a layer of cream. He made his way back over to the peculiar customer and carefully handed him the drink.

"It's a honey oat milk latte," Megumi stated plainly.

"I'm not even sure what a latte is, but thank you!" His lips twisted into a toothy smile as he handed Megumi his debit card.

The dark-haired boy swiped his card through then machine and finished the transaction before returning it to the boy, "Have a nice day".

"Thanks, you too! My name is Itadori Yuuji by the way, it was nice to meet you...," he squinted his eyes in attempt to read Megumi's name badge, "Fushiguro! That's a cool name".

"Uh, thanks. I have to help the next customer now," Megumi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly — this whole interaction was so weird.

"Oh, right. Thank you again!" He called out as he turned and left the shop.

Megumi found it impossibly hard to concentrate on his job after that. For some reason his mind was consumed by his interaction with Itadori Yuuji — the peculiar pink-haired student. He found himself still thinking about it later that night, even after working all morning and attending classes all afternoon. No amount of school work was able to distract his mind from this stupid new boy.

When he woke up the next morning and slipped on his apron before heading to work, he wondered if the pink-haired boy would be back again today. He searched all morning for a head of fluffy pink hair amongst the hoards of students, but he never came.

Around ten o'clock the coffee shop always dies down, as all the students and teachers are in class. Megumi leaned back against the counter and pulled out his phone, mindlessly scrolling through twitter while he waited for a customer to show up.

The golden bells hanging from the front door emitted a soft ringing sound, signaling that someone had entered the shop. Megumi looked up to see a baggy sweatshirt and messy pink hair, and for some reason his heart jumped.

"Hey, Fushiguro!" Yuuji's face was plastered with a bright smile.

Megumi scrunched up his nose, it was weird for the boy to call him by his name — they didn't even know each other.

"Hey, how was the honey oat milk latte?" Megumi slid his phone back into his pocket and approached the counter.

"Oh, it was terrible. Fucking awful, actually," Yuuji's faced scrunched up in horror as he reminisced on the atrociously bitter flavor.

Megumi was genuinely offended. Yuuji could have told him he was the ugliest person he'd ever seen, that he had the personality of a brick wall, but to insult his coffee? That was crossing a line. Megumi knew his coffee-making skills were impeccable.

"Excuse me?" Was all he could manage.

"Yeah, it was probably one of the worst things I've ever put in my mouth. Anyway, I was hoping to try something different today," Yuuji said nonchalantly, his hands resting comfortably in the pocket of his hoodie.

"Okay..." Megumi took a deep breath, trying desperately to keep his cool, "What would you like to try?"

"Could you just make something for me again? I really don't know what to order".

"But you hated my last recommendation," Megumi stared at him blankly.

"Yeah... but eventually you'll have to make something I like," Yuuji insisted.

Megumi grumbled a quick "alright" and headed back over to the machinery, searching his mind for a recipe Yuuji might like. Eventually, he decided on a caramel macchiato — everyone likes those. He handed Yuuji the drink and the pink haired boy quickly payed before leaving the shop again.

Megumi watched him as he walked past the coffee shop windows and took a sip of his drink. The pink haired boy's face twisted with disgust, and he looked like he could barely keep the liquid down. He immediately took another sip, his body having the exact same reaction as the first time. Megumi let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head as he watched that absolute idiot until he could no longer see him.

He continued to refer to Yuuji as stupid, weird, or annoying, but that was completely contradictory to the fact that he couldn't get the pink-haired boy out of his mind. He found himself wondering if he would come back again for a third time, and if he did, what drink would Megumi make him? A small part of him was getting invested in this outlandish journey of finding a drink that Yuuji actually liked.

That night Megumi had a revelation — maybe hot coffee just wasn't Yuuji's thing. He decided that tomorrow he'd make him something cold, that was sure to work.

So, when the third day rolled around and Yuuji's messy pink hair came waltzing into the campus coffee shop, Megumi made him an iced cinnamon dolce latte. This time though, Yuuji followed him over to the array of coffee machines, asking him questions about how coffee was made. Megumi found himself explaining the entire process, from how the coffee is brewed to what sweeteners and creams he was adding to this particular beverage. He was honestly appalled by his own actions, he would never put in this kind of effort for any of his other customers — so what made Yuuji so different?

"So, what's your major?" Yuuji questioned while Megumi dusted some cinnamon over the top of his drink.

"Biology with a minor in veterinary technology," Megumi answered without looking up at him, snapping the plastic lid onto the coffee cup.

"Ohhh somebody's smart," Yuuji mused, "Animals, huh?"

"Yeah, they don't talk as much as people do," Megumi said, only half-joking.

"Right? People can be so annoying sometimes," Yuuji shook his head.

Megumi found his lips cracking into the tiniest smile — how ironic and blissfully unaware this boy was. He seemed to truly live life without a care in the world.

"What's yours?" Megumi asked, finally stretching out his arm and handing the pink-haired boy his iced coffee.

"Oh, sports med," Yuuji responded, his nose scrunching up as he took the first sip of his drink.

That answer didn't surprise Megumi at all, given the boy's athletic physique it was obvious he was into that sort of thing. The poor reaction to Megumi's coffee didn't surprise him either — this endeavor to find him a drink he likes is proving to be futile.

"Not good?"

"So bad," Yuuji shook his head, his eyes filled with despair and disgust, "We'll find one eventually though!"

"Maybe," Megumi didn't know it, but his face softened when he talked to Yuuji, his shoulders fell and his jaw unclenched.

There was so something so simple and calming about conversing with that strange boy.

"Well, thanks anyway! See you tomorrow Fushiguro!" His voice rung out through the shop — he really had no volume control when he spoke.

Megumi found himself watching Yuuji through the windows until he could no longer see him again —this was becoming a bad habit.

When the rush of students on their way to morning classes finally died down, one of his coworkers approached him.

"Sweet cream?" The boy questioned him, one of his eyebrows raised in suspicion.

His coworkers name was Inumaki Toge, and he was deaf and mute — selectively mute, anyway. He only communicated in words related to coffee, which was entirely too strange for most people, but Megumi didn't mind.

The two of them had been friends since Megumi first got this job two years ago. They'd even created their own communication system — Toge would talk in coffee terms, which translated to certain things that really only Megumi understood. Then, the dark-haired boy would respond in sign language, a skill he learned just so he could talk to the boy. It broke his stone-cold heart when he first started working here and saw Toge was always alone in the back of the shop. Most students didn't have the time or energy to learn a whole new language for the sake of someone they didn't know, but Megumi decided to put in the effort.

Megumi rolled his eyes, signing that no, he and the pink-haired boy were not friends.

"Americano," Toge furiously crossed his arms over his chest, accusing Megumi of lying to him.

I'm not lying! He's been coming here the past few days for coffee. I don't know why he talks to me so much, Megumi quickly signed back, his eyes narrowed at the white-haired boy.

Toge rolled his eyes at him in the hardest, most exaggerated way possible.

He's just a customer Toge, don't look at me like that, Megumi folded his fingers into the different signs, his frustration towards the mute boy growing.

"Espresso," Toge mumbled under his breath, twisting and returning to his spot at the back of the shop where would grind coffee beans and restock their shelves.

What? You're out of your fucking mind Toge. I do not like him, he's just a regular customer, Megumi angrily signed at him, but it was to no use, as the deaf boy had already turned around and was paying him no mind.

Their conversation lingered in his head for the remainder of the day though, because maybe Toge was onto something. Megumi was terrified to admit it, but Yuuji's daily visits had quickly become the best part of his day, even if he was kind of annoying.

And it continued to be the best part of his day for the next few weeks. Yuuji would come to the shop everyday and they would make pointless small talk while Megumi brewed him new drinks to try. Not a single one ever suited his palate, but he continued to return none the less. His motives were becoming questionable at this point — was he still coming for the coffee, or had this turned into something much bigger?

So, when winter break was right around the corner, and the last day of classes began, Megumi wondered what his days would be like when he didn't have their daily interactions to look forward to.

It was especially snowy today — enough to dust the ground and freeze the air, but not enough for classes to get canceled. Bundled students trudged in and out of the shop, buying coffees and hot chocolates in attempt to keep themselves warm. Their was an excited energy in the air though, it seemed everyone was thrilled for fall semester to be over — everyone except Megumi.

His heart skipped a few beats when Yuuji's familiar soft face appeared in the door.

"Hey, Megumi!" He called out, waving his had furiously through the air.

Somehow they had transitioned to a first name basis about a week ago — the dark-haired boy wasn't even sure how it happened but he certainty didn't mind it.

"Hey, you want something warm or cold today?"

"Definitely warm," Yuuji answered quickly, a shiver coursing its way through his body.

Megumi nodded, getting to work on something that he was sure Yuuji would like.

"Are you visiting family over break?" Yuuji wasted no time addressing their winter-break dilemma.

"No," Megumi shrugged his shoulders, he was one of the very few students who never went home on holidays.

"No family to visit. I live in an off-campus apartment so I just stay here over breaks".

Megumi expected Yuuji to frown, maybe even show him some pity for his unfortunate situation, but he did the complete opposite instead. He lips spread into the widest smile, and he swore he saw him jump in excitement.

"Me too! I used to visit my grandfather, but he died a couple years ago. My holidays have been pretty lonely".

Megumi looked up at him, a bewildered expression on his face. Who could have known that someone as cheerful as Yuuji was carrying such a burden?

"Where do you live? Maybe we could hang out over break," the pink-haired boy cocked his head to the side.

"Second street," Megumi answered, filling Yuuji's cup with steaming brown liquid.

He certainly wasn't opposed to the idea of seeing Yuuji more often, but it scared him just as much as it excited him.

"I live on Third! I can't believe we haven't run into each other before," Yuuji gasped.

Megumi wordlessly finished up the hot drink, subtly scribbling his address and his phone number onto the coffee label while the other boy blabbed on about how close they lived. When he was done he held it out to him, the pink-haired boy reaching out with his mitten-covered hands to take the drink.

He took a small sip and his eyes sparkled like they held the stars inside of them.

"This is so good! What kind is it?" Yuuji asked, eagerly taking another sip and inevitably burning his tongue on the hot beverage.

"Hot chocolate," Megumi spoke plainly, "I've come to the conclusion that it's impossible for you to like coffee".

"You're probably right," Yuuji nodded, "I think I'm more of a hot chocolate guy".

"No, you're a child with immature taste in drinks," Megumi scrunched up his nose.

Yuuji faked offense, and then held up his hand and attempted to flip Megumi off through his mitten — but it didn't really work.

That's when he noticed the dark-haired boy's phone number and address scribbled on the side of his cup. A light blush dusted over his cheeks and he offered Megumi a warm smile.

"I'll see you around!" He called.

A thousand butterflies flew around Megumi's stomach as he watched the boy leave and walk down the snowy sidewalk. What the hell kind of cheesy hallmark movie was his life turning into?

"Americano," Toge's accusatory voice shook Megumi out of his trance.

Okay fine, maybe I'm a liar. Fuck off, Megumi signed at him, to which the deaf boy chuckled to himself.

                                                             ☃

It was Christmas Eve now, and classes had ended a few days ago. Megumi checked his phone obsessively, but a text from Yuuji never appeared. He started to doubt that the boy actually meant what he said about wanting to hang out — maybe he was just being nice and Megumi had taken it the wrong way. He couldn't help but feel disappointed, no matter how much he wished he didn't care. He'd even taken a container of the coffee shops' hot chocolate powder for Yuuji. He planned on gifting it to him, because he had liked it so much.

So, when six o'clock at night rolled around and there was still no sign of the cheery pink-haired boy, he felt his heart squeeze in his chest. Who knew he was so invested in this idiot?

A light knock on his front door pulled him out of his thoughts, and his heart leaped into his throat. He peered through the small peep hole of his door and euphoria spread through his body — the stupid, spiky-haired boy had finally arrived.

He opened the door and Yuuji immediately blushed, his eyes wide as he looked around Megumi's apartment.

"Hi," He squeaked, "Sorry I didn't text or anything".

"It's okay," He ushered the boy inside and closed the door behind him.

"I stopped at a convenience store and bought some cookie dough. I thought we could make them, since yanno, it's a Christmas Eve thing".

Megumi found his own cheeks get warm at the other boy's forwardness. Baking cookies felt so familial, not like something you'd do with a coffee shop acquaintance. But none the less, he nodded his head and guided Yuuji into the kitchen.

The awkwardness between them quickly melted away as they rolled out the dough and attempted to cut out fun Christmas-themed shapes. Megumi chewed on his bottom lip as he focused on the intricate snowflake cookie was trying to make, his perfectionism getting way too involved. Yuuji on the other hand held up a half-smushed blob with a few spikes coming out of the top and two holes punched through the middle.

"It's you!" he laughed, holding his monstrosity of a cookie up for Megumi to see.

The dark-haired boy scoffed, "That's terrible, it looks nothing like me".

"Sorry, Mr. I'm smart and good at art. Are you sure you're not a sculpting student or something?" Yuuji stuck his nose in the air, carefully placing his Megumi cookie on the greased metal tray.

They each cut out a couple more shapes before the oven let out a loud ding to let them know it was preheated. Megumi picked up the tray and shuffled over to the oven, carefully placing it on the top rack. He closed the door before standing up and turning around — bumping right into Yuuji, who for some reason was standing right behind him. They were the exact same height, so Megumi's nose practically slammed into Yuuji's. He blushed furiously, quickly backing up into the counter.

"Sorry," he mumbled a quick apology, though Yuuji had been the one standing right behind him, so maybe he should apologize.

"Can I ask you a question?" Yuuji cocked his head to the side, completely ignoring Megumi's apology.

"Sure?" Megumi gave him a confused look.

"This is more than just two coffee shop friends hanging out, right? You can kick me out if I'm wrong, but if I'm right, I'd really like to kiss you while those cookies bake".

Megumi's eyes widened, his heart thumping hard against the walls of his chest. Of course he wanted to kiss Yuuji, he'd wanted to for weeks — it was all he thought about while he brewed him his stupid coffees everyday.

"Yeah... yeah, you're right," Megumi nodded, those few words were all that he could manage.

That clarification was all that Yuuji needed, a soft smile blossoming on his face before he stepped forward and cupped his fingers around the back of Megumi's neck. Heat spread through his face as their lips collided, every other one of his senses fading away as his body honed in on Yuuji's touch.

He'd been kissed before, several times by both men and women — but none of them compared to this. None of them were this gentle, soft, and electrifying all at the same time. Yuuji's fingers curled into the base of Megumi's hair, and he found his own hands tracing up the sides of the others' torso. He was completely drowning in the ocean that was Yuuji's lips, his mind growing foggy. He'd imagined what this would be like far too many times, but never once did he think it would be this good.

The ten minute timer Megumi had set on the oven started blaring through the kitchen, and he couldn't believe it had been that long already. A soft sigh escaped his throat as Yuuji pulled away, a smile tugging at the other's lips.

"I didn't expect so much experience from the quiet coffee barista," Yuuji poked at him, his eyes glistening with a fire that hadn't been there before.

"Don't judge a book by its cover, I guess," Megumi shrugged, grabbing his oven mitt and pulling the cookies out of the oven.

The pink-haired boy let out a light chuckle, immediately trying to grab a cookie off the metal sheet. Megumi swatted his hand away, insisting that the cookies would be too hot eat right away.

Megumi found his lips intertwined with Yuuji's again after setting down the tray — after all they'd have to pass the time while the cookies cooled somehow.

And so for the first time in a long time, Megumi didn't spend Christmas alone. Rather, he spent it with an overly-cheerful pink-haired boy who became a ray of sunshine in his life of clouds. Though he wished he liked his coffee, Megumi had no problem with brewing him hot chocolate instead. And he did, every morning for the rest of the spring semester he always had a cup of hot chocolate ready for Yuuji. He'd even stopped charging him for it at this point, throwing on a free drink discount every time he came.

[lemonmeringueprincess]

The Mind of  a Broken Soldier (Leave Me Be, Chapter 2 )

Hello People of Tumblr ! It’s ya girl Hazel ! I am back again with another chapter which i am 100% sure NOBODY request it because nobody requested this story in the first place but i’m still continuing it because i feel like it. I was planning on continuing this story and give sly nods to WandaVision and The Falcon and The Winter Soldier here and there along the way. Not in this chapter but... maybe on future chapters. But I’ll see how this one goes and where my idea leads me to.

So you need to read Chapter 1 to be able to understand this chapter properly because this chapter is solely Bucky’s point of view of the reader and some random thoughts. I love reading novels and love their style of writing hence i aspire to write a decent and proper story fanfiction. I mean when you read some books, there will be several chapters viewed from that other characters’ perspective so i decided to implement that style to my story. 

So once again, thank you so much if you decided to pop by, read it and love it. Don’t be shy to pop by my message box to share some ideas you have or maybe you just wanna vibe together, I’d love to do that with you guys too. But please please please don’t be mean if you don’t like it. FYI, this chapter is slightly shorter than the first chapter. Love, Hazel .

Disclaimer: No disclaimer or any warnings. But definitely do me and yourself a favour and check out Chapter 1 so you can properly comprehend this chapter with ease :) 

Characters : Bucky x Reader; teeny weeny mention of Sam :)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Look man, I know we don’t really see eye to eye but I call to check on her…How’s she doin’?” Sam heaved a sigh of empathy from across the line.

I tightened my grip upon the thin, slick and smooth communication tool which now known as smartphone that I hadn’t had the chance to acquaint with. I let out a sigh of desperation, desperate of ways to haul her from the rabbit hole she’s now falling into. My fingers combing through my unruly long hair that’s bundled up in a disheveled bun. A bad habit of mine when I’m in desperation and anxiety.

“It’s been a week since Steve walked out from her life and if I’m being honest, Sam, she’s not doing very well. She’s…she’s been nestled up in her room since then.” I heaved another sigh of despair, my right human arm gripping the kitchen counter tightly in effort to prop myself while the other man-made hand still latched onto the phone.

“I even had to force feed her just to keep her alive for god sake.” I asserted whilst rubbing my right eye with the heel of my right human hand and quietly strutting towards her door. Leaning my side against the stark beige wooden door, plopping my ear against it to silently eavesdrop, just like how I had done countless times to check on her well-being without having to barge into the door. Soft whimper gradually shifted into muffled sobs. I closed my eyes, let my head hung low as if my neck was already tired enough to brace the weight of obstacles and desperation that merge into one and let out a long exhale.

“Gotta go, Sam… I’ll call you back.” I lowered my voice into mutter and hung up.

Even though I had known Steve for so many years, sometimes I still couldn’t decipher what’s in head. Recalling back to the 40s, way before he and I even considered enlisted into the army, women would always prefer me over Steve to take me out as their dancing partner when we’re at the bar. I felt bad for him and he’d sometimes complained that if only there’s the one out there who would see him through his frail and tiny stature. Seventy three years later, he abandoned the woman who’s been through with him through thick and thin, put up with his stupid decisions and god knows what more for eight years, for Peggy.

The woman whom he knew for only two years and only dated briefly.

The woman whom he’d share his infatuation and obsession with.

The woman he met at the army who didn’t even spare him a glance…not until after he’s gone through physical changes then eventually decided to give him a chance.

I wouldn’t even consider that as official if they only exchange flirting and longing glances at the office…

bar… 

and even Howard Stark’s Lab.

Clasping my hand upon the door handle, I levered it down and pushed open the door generating soft creaking from the hinge. I tiptoed my way in and left the door ajar. There she was… dressed down in only white camisole and panties while curled up in a fetal position upon the bed which was a bit too spacious now for a single person. Her back facing towards me, shoulders quivering from muffling her own sobs into whimper. 

Oh Steve… what have you done…

I slowly crept my way towards her and slowly sank myself on the bed. I was hesitant to lay next to her but I tried to push that thought away considering her mental health was already at stake. If I left her untended, she might eventually spiraled into deep depression and she’s already halfway there. So I laid next to her, draped my arm over her frail, delicate and small body to hold her close as if sheltering her from her own whirlpool of emotions . While offering her the comfort of silence, my mind wander off to how on earth Wanda dealt with her own grief… poor kid not only lost her significant other but also her twin brother and parents as I was informed by Sam. My train of thought was halted when I heard her croaked a rhetorical question, 

“H-h-he’s not coming back, is he? Did that prick even try second guessing his decisions?”

I wish I could do more than being her shoulder to cry on and dragging Steve back by the ear. That punk really took all the stupid with him. I contemplated whether I should say something decent to comfort and lift her spirit but I retracted. “I’m sorry, Doll… “ Were the only words I could muster from my still-healing disrupted mind. After Hydra’s infamous torturous events and being sent away to Wakanda to get my mind fixed. I found that I had difficulties of expressing my thought and feelings emotionally from the years of being over-electrocuted and memory-wiped conducted by Hydra, more strenuous than my old self. Not that I couldn’t do it but I realized it took more time to do so.

But even so I still try to rack my brain, dig deeper to find something nice to say; to make myself feel a tad better for at least doing something good in my life for once after the horrendous past, to at least counteract all those gruesome dirty work I unconsciously did to the others.

“I tried talking some sense into him, but he was very adamant of his decision. That punk…I’m really sorry…” i tried to string those words together carefully, worried that one step further or slight wrong move might set the fire ablaze even more. At this point, I was scared considering I had never connected to women emotionally. Sure I’d dated many women back in the 40s, but never considered them seriously… Now I know how it felt to wear their shoes, to know how it felt to be ditched and forgotten, even though I didn’t experience it firsthand.

Running out of options and words to say, I scooted closer whilst tightened my embrace and inhaling her scent, a hint of fresh bed linen and lavender; Steve hates it when women used too much perfume to the point it’s suffocating. I remember he’d always complained about the atrocious penetrating smell of perfume whenever we walked past the women at the bar.

“Doll… tell me what to do… I can’t bear seeing you breaking apart like this and I am running out of ways to numb your pain…” I consoled.

I used to be a good pep talker, a great one even; constantly spewing encouragement and lending a piece of advice or two to Steve. But I guess I had to shift my roles and be the good listener instead.

I did not expect her to open her heart and confide everything, as if she was confessing everything to me. I could only fervently listen to her anguish secrets that had been tormenting and keeping her awake. I felt really bad for the insecurity and self- doubt she had to endure these past years. Constant comparison with Peggy and doubting herself; nevertheless, she still fought her way to prove her worth… such strenuous and tenacious effort just to keep Steve’s attention to her…

Oh Steve… if only you’re in my position now, you’d know how much effort it took for her to keep up with your fantasy. They said love is full of sacrifices but not as much sacrifice from one side, both sides needed to make equal sacrifices to make things work, if one sacrifices too much, they’d weaken because they’re giving out too much and eventually died, just like her.

I knew Steve was always oblivious with things, but never as horrid as this. My heart sympathized and mourned for her. Eight years of relationship that she fought so hard to keep slipped out of her hands just like that.

“I-i-i-it h-h-h-urts, Buck… it hurts…He’s my first love, first kiss and…”

I felt her body shook under my embrace. No longer able to withstand her emotional suffer, I tried to soothe and lull her to sleep.

“I know, Doll. But I promise you’ll get through it, I promise to be with you every step of the way. We will get through it. I am not going anywhere. I am not going to walk out this door, not until you kick me out because you’re so sick of looking at my face. You have my word, Doll. I am staying.” I promised.

I promised myself I’d be there to pick up the pieces regardless of any circumstances, because it’s the right thing to do. I’d be there to hoist her up when no one else could. i’m doing what a good friend would do... It’s the right thing to do … Right? 

[mae-gi-writes]

Purpose of Hearts | Song Mingi (ATEEZ)

Summary: Two lives. One purpose. And a hope that someday, their voices would be heard.

Part of @atbzkingdom's timecapsule collab! Song: Utopia by ATEEZ

Genre: angst, slice of life

A/N: This is a love story but it also revolves around issues of modern society as well as the environmental crises that have been happening lately. I wish to incorporate more of these real-life elements in my stories because that's the only way I can communicate to people the importance of living a life that does not take away what Nature has made for us. So I hope that you guys aren't too harsh on this one, considering I worked really hard to write it. Thank you all. Love, mae xx

>>>

The first time I saw Song Mingi was by accident. I had been late to my interview that day, rushing in and out between my room, the kitchen and the bathroom to get my scrambled self organized, throw on a blazer over my white shirt and black slacks — honestly, had I washed it before?—  while barely managing to shove a toast in my mouth as I ran down my apartment stairs two at a time, almost tripping over my own feet as I did so.

That was probably the first time I had overslept ever since reaching Seoul and in all honesty, that had done nothing to set my mind at ease as I caught sight of the overflowing crowd of people moving in the direction of the subway.

Every morning was the same, packed in like tuna fish that wriggled forward in too-tight compartments that made it impossible to breathe, also another reason why I always woke up an hour before the rush of workers came through.

“Excuse me,” I pushed at someone’s shoulder getting shoved into my face, trying in vain not to let my nerves get the best of me, “sorry, but you’re crushing me—“ “Oh sorry,” a man that looked like he was in his forties dipped his head in what seemed to mimic a bow, before he slowly tried edging back, in vain.

I huffed into the window pane, my breath fogging up the glass as I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for the ride to be over. 10:45.a.m, my watch said. My interview was at eleven. There was no way I was going to make it in time.

It felt like eternity had passed before I finally heard my desired station being called out on the intercom. I slowly turned my entire torso to face the exit with slight relief flooding through me. I hadn’t died. Things would be okay, it would be okay—The doors slid open and no sooner had I stepped through that I felt a shoulder shove into mine.

I stumbled, throwing my hands out before me to brace myself for the impact only to feel warm fingers grip onto my forearm to pull me up and away from the throng of people flowing out of the train.

“You okay?”

A deep alto resonated in my ear, causing me to look up into an unfamiliar face. There was no doubt that this stranger was tall. Taller than the average in Korea, no doubt. He had a nicely shaped nose, perfectly sculpted for his side profile, I couldn’t help but notice.

“Yeah,” I checked my handbag and quickly dusted off my pants, “thanks. Would’ve gotten crushed back there.”

“No problem.”

Needless to say, my interview was a complete and utter failure. That evening, I binged on some Mcdonald’s followed by a whole pint of ice cream while watching an entire K-drama on my own, ignoring the distinct ping! of my phone that signalled the upcoming stream of messages left unread. But I couldn’t do it. Not now, not when I felt like my life was falling apart and I felt powerless to stop it.

Why? I had thought then. Why me? Why couldn’t I succeed like all my my fellow friends did?

It was true that Marine biologists were at an unfair advantage from the get-go. Jobs were harder to find when you started out in a niche. I had known that much when I’d enrolled for the degree, when I’d cried by myself countless nights knowing that my future was all but a bleak, weak canvas of nothingness. But I couldn’t give it up, no matter how much I wanted to force myself to, for I knew that if there weren’t people like me around to help restore marine ecosystems, then the world as we knew it would end much quicker than intended. I didn’t have the heart to give all of that up when I felt partly responsible for all the lives that mankind was taking away.

All these thoughts were a dark cloud, each and every one of them slowly creating a storm that was out of my control as I went on in my day to day life. It consumed me from the inside until there seemed to be nothing left but an emptiness that blocked everything out. And that scared me.

That was when I met Song Mingi for the second time.

It was around late evening when my restless self decided to take a walk to clear my head. It seemed like my feet had a life of their own for no sooner had I allowed my mind to drift off that I found myself boarding a train to nowhere in particular. A heavy sigh left my lips and I sat back in one of the many empty seats. The peace and quiet was a nice change from the constant bustle and movement, and as I gazed out at the inky darkness of the tunnel, I noticed someone shift from the corner of my eye.

He was sitting on the opposite side, one row before mine, his gaze hollow and empty and directed at the ground, seemingly as lost in his thoughts as I was. I wouldn’t have recognized him if not for that particularly perfect nose slant that instantly caught my attention.

That man. The man who’d helped me out of the subway.

And as if sensing my gaze, his head turned around slightly to catch my eye. Though he was too far away for me to notice, his head cocked to the side as he searched my face for a minute. Before he nodded in acknowledgement.

I nodded back, looked away. Heat crawled to the back of my neck, embarrassed.

I need to get out of here, my mind raced.

The next stop couldn’t come fast enough. I jolted up from my seat once the station came into view and quickly scrambling for the exit, I failed to notice the said young man do the same until I bumped into him as we stepped out.

Stumbling to the side as his briefcase clattered to the floor and spilled the array of papers hidden inside, my eyes widened in horror as some of them started flying away as the train whizzed past. I launched my body onto the ground, curse words spilling from my mouth as I helped him gather the mess of artworks that decorated the floor, from pens to pencil scrawls to pastels to dabbles of oil paintings that even in the shitty yellow lights lining the station, they looked ethereal and raw with talent.

“I’m so sorry,” my head was ducked, I couldn’t possibly face him, as I quickly stacked up the papers.

“It’s okay,” was his only reply as we managed to gather most of his work. My eyes flew to the ones that now laid on the train tracks, crumpled and matted with dirt and practically unattainable.

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated hoarsely as guilt filled me up to the brim. It wasn’t enough that I was having a shitty day. No, I had to go and ruin someone’s day as well.

Fuck me.

“It’s alright, really. They weren’t that important to begin with,” he held out his hands for the remaining papers and stuffed them into his briefcase once I handed it over, making sure that the lock was set right before straightening up to face me, “they’re just practice drawings.”

“Still though,” all that pain and effort, gone and wasted because of my stupidity.

He chuckled then and I looked up at him, quite surprised at the grin tugging at his lips, “honestly, it’s fine. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

I nodded and decided to drop the subject, wondering how it was possible to feel even sorrier for myself when I thought I had already hit rock bottom. We walked up the station staircase together in silence, which I would’ve probably found awkward if not for the fact that I was mentally beating myself up for acting so foolishly. He must’ve noticed the tired lines of my face, for his voice rang out in the silence as he stepped out into the street:

“Hey, if you still feel bad about the papers, don’t,” he stopped, gazing down at my form with what I hoped to be a reassuring smile, “it would’ve been another story though, if these were my finals.”

I flinched, though I forced a faint smile back, “okay. I’m sorry. Again. Please don’t curse me to death or anything,” an idea popped into my head, “are you heading home right now?”

“Uh—yeah. Why?”

“Please…let me buy you a drink. Coffee? Iced tea? I just—“ my fingers were already scrambling for some money, “please. I feel terrible about this.”

He cocked his head as an amused smile graced his lips, “wow, you really do feel bad.”

“I do. Please?”

And that was how we found ourselves sitting at a cheap plastic table outside the convenience store that night, huddled in our too-thick sweaters and blowing at our hands while holding our beers close. Conversation flowed naturally as we sat and breathed in the night air, allowing life to pause for a moment and enabling my brain to disentangle itself from overthinking too much. It was nice in a way, the distraction of having someone to talk to, just so that I didn’t have to wallow in my own self-pity.

I learnt that his name was Song Mingi, and that he had recently graduated from Art School with a dream to be a full-fledged artist. He had one cat that he’d named Kimchi and absolutely adored anime because of the art style and the unique story lines. I learnt that he was quite fluent in Japanese and loathed the subway as much as I did.

“Right now though, I’m working at a design company,” he took a sip of his beer, head tilting and side profile backlit by the fluorescent convenience store lights. He appeared softer, younger somehow, than his actual age.

“You like it?”

“Not really.”

I threw him a pointed look, “is that how you say no?”

“Alright. No,” he laid his chin in his palm, “I hate it. I feel like I’m wasting my time.”

“But it covers the bills.”

“Yup.”

“That sucks.”

“It does,” he took another hearty sip as I gazed down at my own drink. And here I was, jobless and with no ambition, no dream to chase. Because I was burnt out before even starting.

“And you?” he asked as I glanced back up into his eyes — gentle eyes, I found. He had very gentle eyes, eyes that seemed to know a lot more than what he let on, “what do you do in life?”

“I am unemployed,” the words sounded even more grim as they fell from my mouth, and I averted my eyes to the table to avoid his own out of embarrassment, “and I’m pretty sure I failed all the interviews I had this week.”

“What did you study?”

“Marine biology,” my throat felt rough, choked up with emotion as I thought of how ridiculous I must sound to this total stranger who was both talented and seemed to have his life together. Maybe it was insecurity that made me spit out, “don’t laugh.”

A pause, before he said, “why would I? That’s amazing.”

My eyes slid back up to his, “I—because…well…” and I couldn’t help myself from spilling it all out. How I came to this major because this was presumably the most passionate thing I’ve ever stumbled across in life, how I’d studied so hard not to fall behind when all my classmates seemed to pass their exams with flying colours, and how out of all of us in our year, I was the only one still roaming around like a lifeless soul while most of my peers had landed themselves some high-standing positions at big-shot NGO’s and companies focusing on Marine Environment protection and sustainability.

I didn’t realize that my eyes had filled with tears by the time I was done rambling about the fact that our planet was dying and nobody seemed to be interested in that fact whatsoever. Not until Mingi’s hand came into my peripheral and I blinked, catching sight of the napkin he was offering me.

“Thanks,” I murmured, voice small as I quickly wiped away my tears. My cheeks felt hot, flushed from a mixture of alcohol and from the way his eyes were intent on my face.

“I…” Mingi bit down onto his lower lip. He’d moved on to his second can by then, “I don’t know what to say. You’re…”

I waited for the insult. For him to laugh at my ridiculousness. Or maybe offer sympathetic words that were devoid of meaning.

“You’re amazing.”

I blinked. Once. Twice. Slowly, my eyes fluttered up to his.

“What?”

“All these things you’ve told me, they’re so…real. And I wish I could be more like you, you know?” he leaned back in his chair, “I’m always complaining that my life’s not good enough. That I don’t have purpose. These kinds of thoughts that make you question your existence. But then you come along and you tell me all these problems — real problems that should concern everyone around us — that make me open my eyes.”

Was this flattery? A compliment? I didn’t know how to take it, considering the fact that I’d basically laid out all my cards in front of this man who’d been a total stranger just a few hours ago.

He continued on despite my silence, “the world needs more people like you. Kind people, who really want to change the world for the better. Not because they want to prove something. But because it’s the right thing to do.”

My heart lurched in my chest. Stranger or no stranger, hearing that made some of the weight lift off my shoulders, even just a little. How stupid. How pathetic, that all I wanted to hear was to be praised and recognized by someone who I barely knew.

Nevertheless, it warmed me. The warmth of his tone as he gazed at me from across the cheap table. That was incomparable to an entire life filled with nothing but disappointment.

“I—“ a hollow chuckle escaped the back of my throat, “I don’t know what to say.”

He was the one to flush this time, “sorry, I didn’t mean to pry—“

“No no! Don’t say sorry,” I protested, eyes darting between him and the drink in my hand, “it’s—it’s refreshing, compared to what I’m used to hear.”

"Wah, I mean...I took art so I'm not one to talk."

I can't help but giggle, "so we're just a bunch of nerds. Bet you watch anime too."

"Don't get me started unless you want to stay here till four in the morning," he chuckled.

I wasn't really sure how to describe that night in particular. It felt like catching up with an old friend and yet, I barely knew this man. Somehow though, it seemed like he understood the pain that simmered in me, the feelings that I bottled up for all this time and it brought me comfort that someone else could empathize with the thoughts that pulled me down by the ankles every time I tried to swim.

Something had changed between us by the time he walked me back to the station that evening. What had started out as a coincidental meeting of two strangers had ebbed into the softest brushes of friendship. I was more than giddy to exchange numbers in hopes of meeting him again.

That night, I fell into a deep and soundless sleep. The best sleep I'd had in ages.

>>>

The third time I saw Song Mingi, we promised to change the world.

It started out as him inviting me over for his apparently out-of-this-world shrimp pasta, to which I'd scoffed and broke his heart by stating that I was vegetarian. But that had only fueled his desire to make me fall in love with his cuisine as he promised me the best alternative to that.

He'd bought wine for the occasion, had managed to secure the apartment all to himself that evening, and had even decorated the table with soft scented candles and matching plates that brought out the magical air of first dates.

That was enough to bring a smile to my lips and I had looked over my shoulfer at him in amusement, "aren't you a romantic?"

I swore I caught his flush even in the dim golden hues that bathed the room, though he answered back with a scoff, "I'm an artist. Of course I'm a romantic."

"I was friends with some art kids, back in uni," I said as I sat down at the table, Mingi following my movements as he placed the pot of pasta between us, "and I gotta say, I felt like they were more cyberpunk and dark than actual romantics."

"Yeah, even art kids have their own little gangs," he wrinkled his nose, "honestly, I was pretty normal. Didn't dye my hair, no piercings in my nose, no tattoos 'coz I hated needles. People would keep asking me if I was a design student."

"Wait--isn't that like, kind of the same thing though?"

"It's different in the way we approach the subject matter. But yeah, I don't get it either. Why can't I be an artist and a designer? I don't want to choose."

"Ah, let the existential crisis strike again."

We clinked glasses, gobbled up the pasta with vegan meat that he'd replaced -- with too much confidence bordering on arrogance, I might add -- and as we spoke, my attention couldn't help lingering over his works until at some point, Mingi had relented and gestured for me to grab his sketchbook.

And that had been a game changer. It had opened my eyes.

Sure, I'd seen his sketches when I'd caused his spill a few weeks ago. But at that time I was all too panicked to actually care what had been sprawled over the paper...until now.

"So you draw characters?" My mouth was practically hanging open as I constantly gazed at the array of faces sprawled before me. They were beautiful. Stunningly so. And haunted somehow, as if wrapped in narratives of their own.

"Yeah. I like faces. I like people." I heard the shyness in his alto as he stood next to me, hand going to scratch the back of his neck, "I think they all carry so many different stories."

And they did. Their eyes said something different within each and every scene. My heart tugged with emotions I couldn't quite decipher for myself as I pondered oveer his intent.

That was when the idea hit me.

"Mingi," I turned to him, "you said you wanted to tell stories?"

Raising a brow, he said, "yeah?"

"How comfortable are you with animated movies?"

"Hm. I did some modules back in college so I'm not unfamiliar with it. Why?"

"This is going to sound crazy okay?"

Alarm flashed through his features. He blinked, "okay."

"Let's make an animated movie. About the ocean."

>>>

And he said yes. Just like that.

He heard me out first, worked through all the logistics of how we were going to create something together that would bring to life a vision of a new world, a world that would bring life within the marine ecosystem. Our meetings were flexible, in-between scraps of time that we'd get either during his lunch time or during evenings where we'd get dinner and discuss. But while I was unsure of whether I'd pushed him before even asking him about it, I caught a glimpse of the twinkle in his eyes, and that had made me pause for a minute.

It was the look of pure love.

Love for life.

In all honesty, a little part of myself fell for Mingi there and then.

"I was thinking it to be more like a kid storybook," I told him from my place on his sofa, watching him at his tiny kitchen desk sketching out some panels, "so that it's got a light mood with dark undertones."

"Yeah, it'll be more effective that way," he murmured, brows stitched together and lips puckered. That expression took ten years off his age, "I was thinking maybe we need a protagonist. Maybe she's a mermaid or something. Has animals friends and lives in the corals--"

"And she watches as all the fishing destroys her home," I finished with barely restrained excitement, "and she falls in love with a fisherman who decides to help her out!"

Mingi's eyes lifted from his paper -- that must've been the first time in a full hour since he was so focused on the task at hand -- and locked on mine. A grin slowly spread across his face, "I like that. A lot."

There was something in his gaze that made me heat up, though I made an attempt to shrug and look away to avoid the heat slowly spreading through my limbs as if someone had suddenly turned up the temperature in the room.

My week followed with a few more interviews, most of which were unsuccessful. One of them seemed interested enough -- a Marine conservation company that focused on dolphins and whale protection -- but upon scheduling an official meeting with the manager, I couldn’t reel in the horror that struck me as soon as I stepped foot into the enclosure. The dolphins barely had any room to swim around, let alone the condition of the waters that were more of a murky green than health aquamarine blue. The animals themselves didn’t look too happy to be here and god knows one could understand, considering the circumstances and the fact that this pool was the size proportionate to a tuna can.

The cherry on top though, was definitely the orcas. Top fins flipped to the side and with only three left -- the information board stuck to the entrance stated that there were at least ten of them -- it definitely appeared more to be a morgue than a conservation area.

At this point, I couldn't stop the tears. Pain scratched through my chest before I swivelled around with barely restrained anger, "you--" my nostrils flared, jaw clenching, "that's--that's what you call keeping them safe?"

The manager's eyes narrowed, "With all due respect, we--"

"You're killing them!" I yelled out, unable to restrain myself, "this is called murder! And you call yourself a marine conservation? What is wrong with you!?"

Needless to say, I was kicked out a few seconds after that.

But the damage was done. My heart was aching, practically empty of anything else apart from the horror I had just witnessed unfold before my very eyes. If they had a good reputation and were treating their animals badly, how about the ones that didn't have any funding? The ones that had smaller acres and less manpower to help?

How many animals were they killing in the process?

Sure, not all of them were like that. But that was a bit slap in the face. By reality.

Mingi noticed my wallowing silence when he came over that night -- I had cooked vegan burgers for the occasion -- though I tried to hide it behind the pretence of tiredness and lack of sleep. He wasn’t convinced though, for as soon as we’d dumped our plates in the sink and collapsed onto my worn-out red couch with frayed fabric ends hanging from its sides, the first thing he uttered was:

“Did something happen?”

I looked up, surprised that he’d picked up on my nonverbal cues since I usually prided myself on always managing to keep my emotions in check whenever I was in the public eye.

Admittedly though, this was a feeling I had never felt before. This wretched, this broken-hearted. I had seen documentaries, countless videos of slaughter and poor conditions.

But this, this was something entirely out of its league. This was horrendous. I couldn’t understand how one could even do such a thing. How one could think of this as humane, as a service to those beautiful animals that never hurt anybody.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Mingi continued in a rush, “I didn’t mean to pry--”

“They barely have any space,” I cut him off, voice practically on edge as the sight of the dolphins flashed through the back of my lids, “they--they looked ill. Mingi, you should’ve seen them. They didn’t--they didn’t look like they were going to survive in there and, I--I couldn’t not do anything so--”

My tears had already gathered at the corner of my eyes and I buried my head into my arms so that he wouldn’t have to fall victim to my sobs. It surprised me, though, when his warmth came to wrap around my figure, hand pressing against the back of my head so that I was nestled into the crook of his neck.

The murmur scratched the back of my throat, “I’m sorry--”

“It’s okay,” Mingi’s soothing alto washed away the nervous thought that maybe he was doing it out of sympathy. Out of pity, even. But he sounded more comforting than uncomfortable, which made me cry even harder into his shoulder.

It might have sounded stupid to anyone else; crying about animals that still had a chance at life, crying because they were forced to be in cages that didn’t serve them any better purpose than leaving them out to sea as dead meat. But I couldn’t help myself, couldn’t help my heart, from the deep sorrow that washed through me every time I pictured those lifeless creatures -- usually so alive and vivacious and just amazing to be around -- just wallowing in the waters like a bunch of dead floating bodies.

This wasn’t about allowing them to live. This wasn’t about carving out a better future for these animals. This was merely about trying to build a good reputation, and feeding off all the money they received because of good samaritans that wanted to do good and yet, had no idea of what was going on behind the scenes.

It was horrifying. Heartbreaking. And I couldn’t stand by to watch them all fall to pieces, to be killed to extinction.

“It’s okay,” he shushed me when he heard my sobs get a little louder. One of his hands soothed down my back, stable and comforting. I tried breathing in and out, raggedly, but eventually slowly settling into small hiccups as the night wore on and the pain subsided.

How stupid. How embarrassing. What an idiot.

Those were the thoughts that circled my brain as soon as my consciousness cleared.

"My neighbour had a cattle field,” Mingi said a while later when we sat side by side, one of his hands still on my back and rubbing slow circles. I had grabbed a pillow, hugging it for comfort, “back when I was still a kid. I had to walk to the nearest bus stop because we were so far out. We didn’t have any buses coming our way. Whenever I passed by that farm though, I’d feel so helpless to see all these cattle, bunched up together. There was barely enough space for them to breathe, let alone move.”

I sniffled and wiped my nose, nodding at him to go on.

“So one day, oh god. You’re going to laugh,” he chuckled softly, rubbing his face with his other hand, “one day I decided-- you know what? They didn’t deserve to live like this. I felt sorry for them. And they were getting slaughtered. Every single day. I was so angry that I went over to the backyard fence that afternoon and just opened the gate.”

“You did what?” My eyes bulged out of their sockets.

Mingi burst out laughing, “I know, I was stupid. And I wasn’t thinking about how this was the man’s hard work you know. It was what paid the bills. But I was naive and I just really wanted to help the cattle. So I set them free,” His laughter dimmed into chuckles, “all fifty-five of them.”

“Holy shit Mingi,” my mouth formed an ‘O’, “you’re crazy!” I started cackling, imagining a younger version of Mingi storming up to the fence with that same determined glint in his eye. I’d definitely done some crazy things back when I was still a child. But this one was unheard of.

He joined in and soon enough, we were laughing our heads off for god knows whatever reason. All I knew was that the ache in my heart had dissolved into a tiny stub the size of a burnt-out cigarette and my stomach now hurt from too much laughing.

“Don’t worry Y/N,” Mingi smiled down at me, those feline eyes soft and the curve of his full lips lighting up his features, “if they can’t see the wrong they’re doing now, then our project will.”

Right then and there, I believed him.

>>>>

I fell in love with Song Mingi the same way I fell in love with the sea.

I was not, until I was.

And when the realization hit me, I was in a little too deep to retract my footsteps.

Maybe it was in his gentle demeanour. Something I wasn't used to in guys. But Mingi had a sensitivity to him, a way with human emotions that made it easy to communicate. He was soft and kind and so open to everything and anything I said. He had a stubborn streak, but mostly for things that concerned his self-worth. And I hated how he couldn't admire his talent the same way I did.

But that was the thing with artists right? They always shied away from the limelight, let their works of art speak in their stead.

And what I loved the most about Mingi, was the fact that he listened. He actually took the time to listen and remember the things I said. It might have been little, insignificant. But it wasn't for me.

"Y/N! Guess what I brought for you!" He hollered one particular Wednesday night after work. He practically lived here, for his things were already sprawled onto the kitchen table from last night, and the night before.

"A donut? A latte? A pizza?" I called back while stirring the red bean stew as a quick dinner. The lack of response caused me to turn around, only to be faced with a bunch of red roses. I yelped in surprise, "what the-- what's this for?!"

My face heated up on its own accord as Mingi laughed and said, "Happy International Women's Day."

"What?" I blinked in shock, my curry now forgotten on the stove, "you mean, happy valentines?"

"Nope. No mistake. Today's International Women's Day," he grinned, "so here you go, a bouquet of roses to one of the strongest women I know.”

My face explode with heat and if it weren’t for me averting my head and hiding my face amidst the roses that tickled my nose, he would’ve guessed the way my heart beat for him. Too fast for it to be normal.

Another time, we’d been hanging out by the Han River sloppily eating our way through ice cream in zero degree weather and he hadn’t hesitated to give me his hoodie when he’d noticed the raw redness of my hands, the sniffles coming from my nose.

“You’re cold,” he’d stated with a small tut of disapproval. I protested with a shake of my head, but it had been no use. He was already pulling his coat off and not a second later, his hoodie was flung onto my face.

“Ow,” I mumbled as I maneuvered my hands through the sleeves, chest warming at his kind action. Mingi was a sweetheart, no doubt. And I really needed to stop crushing on him. He, however, did not make it so easy.

“Thanks,” I glanced back at him after stuffing my hands into his hoodie pockets. It smelled just like him, as if Mingi himself was wrapping me in his arms. The thought made my heart melt, “you didn’t have to, you know. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Sure, Y/N. You look like you could fly away if I pushed you too hard,” he reached over to ruffle my hair and I’d pouted then before jabbing playfully at his shoulder.

The more I spent time in Mingi’s flat, the more I got to know of his entourage, met his friends and saw how they genuinely cared for the said young man. In return, he met mine and it had become a habit to drag him along wherever I went and vice versa. So much so that it elicited a few curious glances and poignant questions that I tried avoiding at all costs for fear that they’d find out my true feelings.

“Mingi’s never been an outgoing kid,” Hongjoong said -- he was one of Mingi’s older childhood friends and they’d known each other all their lives -- during one of the evenings when the boys had crashed into Mingi’s living room and the flat had turned into a Mario Kart competition. Much to the displeasure of Mingi’s flatmates.

“Huh, that’s something I can’t quite picture,” I replied, gaze trailing back to Minig’s face as he yelled and high-fived Jongho and San. A series of groans echoed from the opposing team.

“Yeah, he’s grown out a lot more since university,” Hongjoong took a sip of his beer, “he does gets quite emotional from time to time. That’s why I worry about him so much. He’s sensitive.”

“I guess all artists are, in a sense.”

The man nodded, “yeah, but he’s been a lot brighter. Ever since you two started that project.”

I tried not to show that I was slowly becoming a blushing mess but it was hard to keep my feelings in check when Hongjoong’s eyes were piercing on my own, suddenly alert and filled with an intensity that made me want to squirm.

“You like him?”

The words were like icy shards. I froze.

I couldn’t keep the surprise from my face when I turned to face Hongjoong. My mouth suddenly felt as dry as sandpaper.

“Mingi’s fragile. If you’re gonna play him, I suggest you don’t.”

“I’m not--” the words ached as they escaped my voicebox, “I’m not playing him.”

“Then please, take care of him. He doesn’t show how weaknesses to everyone. But he has a habit of overworking himself, especially when it comes to pleasing others,” Hongjoong shot me a look.

My mouth reacted before my brain did. I blurted out, “why are you telling me this?”

And there was that look in Hongjoong’s eyes; the dark softeness filled with affection for the said young man that reminded me of that of a father’s. When he spoke next, his words were barely above a murmur, “because he cares about you, a lot. And I don’t want him to get disappointed.”

I wasn’t sure whether to take that as an insult or a compliment. Hongjoong’s words bordered on threatening, though I knew that it wasn’t the case. He was just doing his job after all; looking out for Mingi. But if he thought, for one moment, that I would go out of my way to hurt the latter, then that statement was proven wrong the moment I realized my heart beat for him.

As the coldness of spring melted away with the warmth of summer, sakuras went into full bloom and more and more people gathered outside to take pictures, couples strolling hand in hand while enjoying street snacks that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Empty streets suddenly turned bustling, just like our current storyboard coming to life.

“I don’t get it though. Why does the fisherman do that when he knows he’s going to go jobless when he exposes the fishing industry?” Mingi asked one night while we watched the animation roll by in comfortable silence. The frames were almost done at this point, with only the ending to wrap it all up and the music to be added in the background.

I leaned against his desk table, slightly curving of his sitting form, “because he loves the mermaid,” I went straight to the point, not realizing that my voice had dropped to a whisper until Mingi turned in my direction.

“He loves the mermaid just enough that he’s willing to sacrifice all of that?”

It sounded dumb when he put it so simply. So I shrugged, “people do stupid things in the name of love.”

A slight pause as my words buzzed through the air.

"Would you?” He spoke up,” do that?”

My eyes dropped to his face. The depth of his orbs reflected in the dim light of his room had my heart shaking and impulsively, my hand went to fist onto my jumper sleeve. Just enough to keep me grounded.

“What--” I swallowed thickly, “do you mean?”

A few beats of silence ensued. Our eyes locked.

“Would you give all that up for the one you love?”

I kept my eyes on his even as heat littered through my cheeks, “yeah,” I bit my lip, “yeah I would. Probably.”

Something flashed in his eyes then. Something different, darker than what I was used to seeing. A silent breath escaped my lips. Electricity curled through the air, buzzing in-between us.

I didn’t dare breathe. Didn’t dare look away.

Mingi’s eyes traced my every feature, gaze flickering to my mouth.

My lips parted on their own accord and he must’ve heard me, for his eyes flickered straight back up to mine and-- had his eyes always been this intense? This beautiful?

His hand suddenly fluttered over my arm. He tugged.

I stumbled into him.

And then his lips were pressing onto my cheek. Softly. A little shy. Breaths warm where his mouth hovered right upon my skin that burned as butterflies suddenly exploded through my stomach. A gasp died in the back of my throat and as I gazed down at him in growing surprise at his stroke of boldness, I saw his eyes widen in realization of what he'd done.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get into your space--" his scrambled murmur died when I shook my head to silence him, a slow smile spreading across my lips. I didn't know what to say though, what to do.

I finally found my voice after a while, "what...was that for?" I asked, tentative.

Mingi's head ducked shyly, hand going up to rub at his neck while avoiding my gaze like the plague, "I don't know," he admitted, "I just--I wanted to cheer you up. I guess?"

"You guess?"

His orbs flickered to mine, "don't make fun of me," he sounded like a child and a giggle erupted from my mouth, "I'm not. Just making sure what your intentions were."

I almost missed him murmuring out, "even I'm not sure."

That shut me up. I blinked at him.

"You looked sad," he looked away, "I don't like seeing you sad."

Was that a confession? Or was it just me being overdramatic?

I didn't bother responding out of fear that flat-out rejection was waiting for me just behind the door that broke the boundary between friendship and romance. I moved away and his arms dropped, clearly sensing that something had changed in my demeanour. For the rest of the night, we didn't address the issue, made it out to have been an accident, a small 'slip' if you will. In truth, I was a coward. Couldn't muster the courage to spill out the weight that was heavy on my heart and would rather lock up my feelings away, push them at the far end of my mind.

Maybe it was for the best. We were partners only for this project.

After that, who knows when I'd be seeing him again?

>>>

The day our story came to life was the day I almost told Mingi how I felt about him.

"It's done."

My brain couldn't process what my eyes saw. The animation kept on rolling forward and repeating itself, the melody becoming a numb buzzing background noise as the roaring excitement flooded through my veins, my heart beating so loudly I feared its sound echoed through the room.

Mingi sat next to me at his swivelling desk chair, chin on his palm and eyes glancing between me and the computer screen.

Ever since that night, there had been a weird tension every time we looked at each other for too long. It felt like an itch under my skin I couldn't quite reach, something that made me want to squirm restlessly.

"That..." my throat went dry. It was beautiful. The shading, the fluidity of the storytelling. Everything. "It's..." I struggled to find my voice.

It was beautiful.

"It's beautiful."

Choking up on the wave of emotion crashing through me, I couldn't restrain the sob echoing through the back of my throat and turning away from the young artist to hide the tears welling in the corner of my eyes, I jumped when a warmth ghosted over the back of my elbow.

"You okay?" Mingi's alto rang deep. He'd risen from his chair and it took me aback to see how tall he actually was. I barely reached his throat.

I nodded, fervently wiping the tears away, "I'm fine. Just-- it's hard to watch."

"Yeah," his features softened, "it was hard to draw."

If I was an emotional wreck, I couldn't imagine how hard he must have struggled throughout the whole thing. My body reacted before my brain did, arms flinging themselves around Mingi's neck as I heard him stutter out with embarrassment.

Burying my face into his chest, my body melted into his scent of soft men shampoo followed by a citrus aftertaste. His figure stiffened for a few seconds, before his arms slowly laced around my middle with a hesitance that made my heart flutter to my throat.

"Thank you," came my muffled mumble, "thank you, for doing this."

A small noise of approval rumbled through his chest, palms smoothing over my back in a manner so soothing it makes my limbs turn to mush.

We headed out to buy some tteokbeokki straight from the street vendor later that night along with some pizza to honour our success -- or more precisely, Mingi's success since he was the one doing the majority of hard work -- and as we settled ourselves on a bench in a nearby park of the neighbourhood, I looked up at the night sky with a soft sigh, knowing that after this night, my chances of seeing Mingi would be slim to none.

It wasn't that I didn't want to see him. It was more because he probably had a life of his own, a life he wanted back. He had friends that cared for him, had a stable job he needed to dive back into. He didn't have as much free time as I did.

Something like a jagged rock cut through my chest at the thought. I wasn't going to life; it hurt to know that Mingi's face wouldn't be a regular in my daily schedule.

But he'd done his part. The rest -- figuring out how to pitch that project to our sponsors -- was up to me.

"Have you made a list of who you're going to pitch it to?" Mingi's voice drew me back to reality and I blinked up at him, catching sight of the beer he held out in his hand.

I took it gratefully, cracking it open and taking a huge sip. The liquid felt good sliding down my throat, the familiar sensation of alcohol warming up my stomach.

"I have a few names in mind," the night breeze was cool as it washed against my features that seemed permanently doused in embarrassment, "I might try and pitch it directly to the National Ocean Board*. Though apparently, you need like a contact to get to the organization itself so I'll have to figure that out."

He hummed in agreement, "the hardest part's yet to come."

"No," my eyes swiped up to his, hating how easily he pushed aside his efforts, "you did everything, Mingi. I--I'm really grateful. I don't know how to thank you."

"You came up with the idea. You're the one who wrote the entire storyboard," he shrugged as he took a sip of his own beer. I tried not to stare too long at the bobbing of his adam's apple -- he looked so fine. There was no doubt about that. Even in his casual hoodie and training slacks decked in shades of black and grey, there was no denying that he had the charm and the aura of a model itself.

"I'm just the one who knows how to draw," he continued in an easy tone, which made me snap, "that's not true and you know it," my eyes narrowed, hands clenching a little harder on my can, "you can draw, sure. Anyone can draw, or learn how to anyway. But you can tell stories and trust me when I tell you this-- not everyone can," I shook my head, "not in the way that you do, anyway. It's magical, it makes you dream, it makes you think that maybe--" the words caught in the back of my throat as I swallowed thickly, "maybe there's still a little bit of hope left."

A soft pause ensued. The crickets chirped in the distance paired with the distant hum of cicadas. I kept my eyes glued to his, insistently trying to prove my point as we kept our gazes locked for a few seconds too long. And then, his features softened and his face broke into a soft smile.

A small that took my breath away.

He reached up so suddenly that I didn't have time to register the fact that his hand came to a rest upon my head. He ruffled my hair, in a manner so gentle that I stopped breathing for a full minute.

"Thank you," his murmur washed against my face, breaths tingling my cheeks and causing a splatter of warm peony to rise through the back of my neck.

I wished to believe it was the alcohol.

"No need to thank me," was the only thing I could mumble back, if only to hide how scrambled up my brain had become.

"You'll let me know, right?" Mingi allowed his hand to linger for a few drawn out seconds, before he dropped his arm and took another sip of his beer, "if ever we get a breakthrough."

"Of course I will. What sort of question is that?"

"I don't know. In case you decide to run away without any credits to the artist," he flashed me a teasing smile and I shoved his shoulder in response, "thanks for having absolutely no faith in me."

He laughed, "I'm joking."

"Oh, you're not. You're actually really serious about me stealing your work aren't you?"

"What? Of course not Y/N! Who do you take me for?"

"Who do you take me for?!" I huffled out playfully, " asking me these stupid questions--hey!"

I didn't have time to defend myself when he suddenly pounced onto me, fingers finding my weak points right underneath my armpits. I squealed, bursts of laughter and cries of protests falling from my lips as his hands scrabbled against my sides in an attempt to make me pay for my earlier comments.

"Mingi! Stop it--" I choked on my own laughter, hands failing to find purchase to push him away as he continued his attack without mercy, "that's for using me!" he gloated.

My beer caner spilled over the ground halfway through our playful fight and it wasn't until I managed to grip his wrists that I realized our provocative position; Mingi's body was hovering over mine that had toppled onto the bench, back pressed against the cool metal as I gazed up, transfixed, into those gorgeous feline orbs glinting in the dark light of the park.

The playful air stilled in light of the realization dawning upon me; that he was so close I could kiss him if I wanted to. His lips were mere inches. Would he straight-out reject me if I attempted to bring him closer? Those sinfully rose-tinted lips that looked plush and inviting-- my heart fluttered to my throat just thinking about it.

No.

Don't do it. Don't ruin what you have, a small voice echoed in the back of my mind.

Mingi, maybe upon noticing the change in my demeanor, slowly pulled back and pulled me along with him so that I straightened up. His head tipped down to the spilled beer cans at our feet, and chuckled.

"Well, that's a waste," he commented lightly, as if we hadn't just engaged in something a little more intimate than interesting conversation, and that made my heart sink a little.

"Sure is," I avoided his eyes at all costs, kept my gaze lowered in case he caught a glimpse of what he shouldn't be seeing in the first place.

The words were lingering on the edge of my lips the whole night, deliberately playing back and forth between what was best for us right now, at this particular moment. And if Mingi noticed, he didn't comment on it, though from the way his eyes would find mine in concern every time a silence lasted for too long, I suppose he suspected that there was something a little more that was bothering the depths of my heart even though I forced plastic smiles over my face and pushed my eyes into crinkles to mimic my usual happiness.

My lips held onto a bitter aftertaste when he said our goodbyes that night, as I held onto his sweater a little longer than usual, numb from the cold and the things that clogged up the back of my throat.

It tasted sour.

I love you.

>>>

Y/N: They said they would sponsor it.

My fingers shook with every key tapped onto my phone, brown orbs glued to the screen as I awaited for Mingi's reply. He was online, I had seen his status a few minutes ago before I mustered up the courage to tell him the great news that would've once made me ecstatic, would have me jumping around in joy and barely restrained excitement at the thought that my voice, our voices, were finally being heard after months of toiling and searching and begging and being thrown out of doors.

After that particular night where we'd celebrated our win, I'd been trying my best to avoid the said man when possible. It wasn't that I didn't want to see him. On the contrary, I had to physically dig my nails into my palm so as not to dial his number every evening when the silence, the overbearing numb emptiness, became too much to bear. But I didn't want to overwhelm him, not if he didn't want anything to do with me.

He never took the step forward to contact me first. I guessed that this was my answer.

Instead of pondering over what could have been, I decided to delve deep into my search for sponsors. Easier said than done though, considering that there were numerous marine protection companies that were using greenwashing for their customer market and blatantly refused to take part in such a 'horrendous, misleading act' as they called it. To fund myself for the time-being, I was grateful enough to get a job as a cashier in a Pet Shop from across the street from my apartment. It wasn't much, but it paid the bills and I was able to spend as much time with animals instead of human beings. Life seemed to crawl by at a slow snail's pace for some time, going through the ministrations of life and falling in a routine of going to work, calling companies and sponsors during my lunch break, gong back to work, then getting home and trying once more to search up other kinds of sponsors in hopes that they'd give me the time of the day.

It wasn't until a few months later that a small company in the outskirts of Seoul reached out to me. They introduced themselves as a branch of a bigger Western umbrella and after running a background check, I counted them as credible and accepted an interview.

Which led to the current situation.

My phone buzzed. Screen flashing: Mingi is calling.

My brain backtracked. Huh?

Fingers shaking, I almost missed the green icon before pressing the device to my ear.

"Hey."

"They accepted it?!"

A smile instinctively hitched my lips upwards, "yes," I murmured, breathless. Then, said it a little louder, "yes!"

Mingi laughed, "oh my god! They accepted it!"

I couldn't help but laugh along with him. His effect on me was incredible, lit me up on the inside and for a second I wished I could get a glimpse of his face.

I suggested that we meet up at a nearby café to discuss the details, which was weird, considering that it had been a few weeks since I last saw his face. I couldn't blame him, for he'd been having a tougher time at work and I was burnt out. Coupling that with our lack of communication and you got a friendship that was slowly fraying at the ends.

I forced my heart to mentally put out a front so as not to jump on him the moment I caught sight of his face. But that didn't prove necessary, for the moment I stepped into the quaint coffee shop filled with the mixed scent of books and fresh espresso Mingi was already wrapping me up in a huge bear hug, so tight I could barely breathe, overwhelmed by the familiar scent of his shampoo.

"It's been awhile," he grinned, pulling back to gaze down at me and I swore I felt my chest tighten at the softness swirling through his dark pupils. Everything, every emotion came rushing back like a tidal wave.

"It has," I managed to cough up despite the fact that my heartstrings seemed to be dancing around in-between my lungs. Just tell him already! "You look good, Mingi. Better than the last time we met."

"That's because we managed to finish our project before the deadline," he grinned as he tugged me over to his table. I took note of the worn-out black edge of his sketchbook peeking out of his backpack and had to smile. Typical of him, to be carrying out of his sketchbook even now that he barely had no time for his personal art.

We caught up on each other's lives and about the specifics of the sponsor. They were willing to advertise it on their social medias, their websites, as well as present it to the National Ocean Cleanup Day that was soon approaching, which was an opportunity for all aspiring artists and storytellers to present their art in hopes that it would be seen by an influential eye. Every commission would be ours and they'd only take 5% commission for their advertisement, a pretty good deal considering their reputation.

"I still can't believe they want to advertise it," he raked a hand through his dark locks. They seemed to have grown a little since then, "It feels surreal."

"It'll be a good opportunity for you too," I smiled back, "to get yourself known as an artist."

"Oh actually, there's something I haven't told you yet."

Leaning forward in my seat, my eyebrow rose in curiosity, "spill."

"Well, I'm actually quitting my job next month."

I blinked, "wha--wait, really? Did you get another job?"

He shook his head at that before his smile broadened, "nah. I'm not about that life anymore. I want to do what I really want," pausing slightly as hesitation flashed through his features, I offered him a reassuring smile, "I'm going to be a full-time artist."

My mouth dropped open in surprise, eyes widening, "Oh my god--No! You're kidding?!" and when he shook his head once more with that knowing smile I knew too well, my hands shot up instantly to grab at his with barely restrained excitement, "I'm so proud of you, Mingi! What--How did you--What have you planned?!"

"I haven't really planned anything yet," though his tone was unsure, there was no denying the full-out grin on his face, "but I've been gathering a bunch of my sketches. They all follow the same theme so I might just go with that."

"That's amazing!" I couldn't believe it. Tears were filling my eyes, "what concept are you going for?!"

And that was when his gaze locked onto mine.

"The sea."

I probably looked like an idiot. Staring at him like he'd grown another pair of eyes and not really comprehending his words for the first few seconds they settled into my brain.

That was when it hit me.

I gasped.

"W--Why?" was the only thing I managed to stutter out.

Though there seemed to be a layer of pink dusted across his cheeks, Mingi answered confidently, "because of you."

I gulped.

"I got inspired, kind of," his head dipped down, dark pupils lowering to the table as if he was too embarrassed to meet my gaze, "I couldn't understand how someone could be as passionate. I--I live in my head most of the time, never really notice all of these outside problems. And it's bad. I know it is.” His eyes fluttered up to mine and I lost breath at the intensity present in them. They swirled with a gentleness that was seldom present, a vulnerable sheen of maroon reflecting in the depths of his dark irises and yet, so intense at the same time that I flushed right down to my feet.

“But you don’t. You live to make the world better and I—I wish I was more like that. I want to be more like that. Because these things matter just as much as what I want to show inside my head,” he paused, hesitating for a few beats of silence before continuing, “when you first told me about the animation, I was—I’m not going to lie to you—I was scared, that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill your expectations. That I didn’t have that in me,” his hands, which had unknowingly turned to grasp mine, slowly interlocked his fingers with my own, “but I’ve never seen someone look at me the way you do.”

“How…” my words trailed off as I struggled to form a cohesive sentence, “how did I look at you?”

“Like you believed in me.”

Tears suddenly pricked at the corner of my eyes. Because he was right. I had had so much faith in Mingi that I lost my own. I had no purpose, while he did. He was so overwhelmingly talented at what he did that I wished I was more like him.

And all along, he was admiring me for doing whatever the hell I wanted.

“I—“ I tried turning my head, hid it in my sleeve so he wouldn’t see the tears brimming in my eyes, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Hm, I guess you can say ‘thanks Mingi, for seeing me as your role model’ or ‘hey that’s cool. I actually inspired someone’. Something along these lines,” he grinned as one of his hands released mine to cup my chin. Turning my face towards his once more before brushing the tears away, he murmured, “why are you crying?”

I sniffled, “because that’s the most wonderful thing someone’s ever said to me and I can’t help but love you even more—“

The words had bubbled out without warning and instantly my mouth clamped itself shut. I stared at Mingi’s shocked expression, looked back down at the cracks on the veneered table before me, and tried withdrawing my hands from his grasp.

Except, he didn’t allow me to.

“What…did you say?” his voice had dropped even lower. My heart jumped to my throat, nerves suddenly jittery, “you…love me?”

I tried chuckling, though I sounded more like a dying animal, “of a sort. You know, like a friend loves another fri—“

His pointed look shut me up and I brought my eyes back to the table. How embarrassing. How stupid. What an idiot. You’re such an idiot! My mind kept on screaming over and over and over again.

“Y/N.”

I didn’t dare look up, for fear of seeing someone I shouldn’t. For fear that one glance might break my heart into little pieces without warning.

He squeezed my fingers as a sign. His hand tilted my chin up to his. My gaze insistently glued itself to the crack running along the table’s edge.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

No. My heart screamed out. No, this is all wrong. This shouldn’t be happening.

“Fine then. You give me no other choice,” he sighed in what sounded to be exasperation and before I knew what was happening, I felt the softest touch of blossoming warmth over my knuckles. Eyes shooting up with a silent gasp, they went straight to Mingi’s as I took in the way his lips were brushing against the back of my hand.

To say that I was combusting like wildfire would be an understatement.

“Does that answer your question?” he whispered.

“Uhm…no.”

His gaze darkened. My stomach churned.

“I love you.”

I swear I could’ve burst out crying then and there.

“You—“ my throat was dry. Hearing myself say them sounded pathetic, borderline ridiculous. Hearing it fall from his mouth though…that was exhilarating. Magical, “You…love me?”

When he nodded, fresh tears welled up in my eyes. Mingi couldn’t help but chuckle then, reaching over to wipe at my cheek, “why are you crying?” he sounded amused.

“I don’t know,” I blubbered back, “because I thought you’d say sorry and tell me we’d never be able to meet again and I don’t know how I was going to live if that was the case—“

“I don’t think I’d be that drastic, Y/N,” bringing my hands up once more, he allowed his lips to brush against my knuckles, the mere action comforting me, “I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Pretty obvious? Jesus Mingi. I can’t read you. You’re not obvious at all!”

“But what about that kiss on the cheek I gave you that time?!” He pouted, “that must’ve counted for something!”

“Well you didn’t do anything else after that so how was I supposed to know?”

“I thought that you were disgusted when you didn’t respond because you didn't like me that way,” his pout deepened and I laughed at how childish he looked. A grown young man who was on the brink of a breakthrough in his career, acting like he was merely a five year old child, “how was I supposed to know then?”

I bit my lip to stop the grin from spreading over my face. I failed, smiling so wide my face practically broke in two, “you’re kinda cute when you’re mad.”

Huffing and muttering some in-comprehensive words under his breath, he tightened his grip on my hands and lifted them to press against his cheek, where his face mellowed out into that soft, crooked smile that turned his eyes into half-moons, “so does this mean we’re dating?”

“Well that’s kind of bold of you, considering you didn’t ask me,” I tried keeping a nonchalant air, only to burst into a fit of giggles as the said man threw me a horrified look, “but I literally poured my heart out!”

“I’m joking you big baby,” I ruffled his hair for good measure and though he grunted, there was no denying that the grin on his face was a permanent one. It made a series of butterflies flutter in my stomach and biting my lip to keep myself from giggling like a silly schoolgirl, I felt the slightest tremors of happiness that sounded like my heart cartwheeling in my chest.

Mingi accompanied me home that night, not hesitating to slip a hand into mine and intertwining our fingers throughout the whole train ride. We probably looked like a pair of idiots, smiling so wide at nothing at all that it wasn’t surprising if we scared off a few passerby’s. As we walked up the street towards my flat, we chatted about nothing and anything at all and somehow, I felt a sense of peace that hadn’t been there ever since our project was completed. As though all the puzzle pieces had finally fallen into place and now actually made sense.

It was calm inside my heart, inside my mind. The turmoil of waves that always seemed to brush a little too close to my sanity were now reduced to nothing, giving way to the calm sandy beach hidden below.

“That was a little too short for my liking,” Mingi’s statement caused me to blink back to reality and the fact that we’d already arrived at my doorstep made my excitement drop to disappointment in my stomach.

I turned to him nevertheless, graced with that soft smile that rendered me weak and made my throat clog up with unspoken emotion, “well, thanks for walking me back home,” my hands knotted themselves together, a habit of mine whenever I felt the nervousness take over.

“You don’t have to thank me, you know,” he flashed his pearly whites.

I turned away, feeling my cheeks warm up before Mingi gently grasped the back of my elbow. Tugging me close so that I stumbled into his chest, his hand was hesitant as it fluttered over my face, hovering a little distance away from my cheek before he mustered up the courage to cradle it in his hold. His other arm wound around my waist to pull me a little closer still and I would’ve lied to say that I was completely rational at this point in time.

My sanity had practically flown out of the window back then. Only leaving Mingi and his warmth in its wake.

His brown orbs held mine for the briefest of moments, as if asking me in silent permission whether he was allowed to take this step forward that would change our relationship forever.

So I did it for him. Pressed up on my tiptoes and claimed his lips.

Just like he’d claimed my heart.

The stifled yelp muffled at the back of his throat was one of surprise as I slanted my mouth against his and slowly, but hesitantly, moved my lips in a dance I’d hope he wouldn’t find to his dislike. But I was worrying for nothing, for a growl rumbled through his chest instead and he kissed me back with barely restrained vigour, hands pressing me close to his chest so that I gasped into his mouth. He took that to his advantage, tongue darting out to meet mine and drawing out a soft moan from my voicebox.

We parted for air after what seemed like forever, and that was when he pressed his forehead against mine with a tender, crooked smile that made me want to slap myself for wondering whether this was actually happening, that this was real.

“So,” his murmur washed over my face, nose bumping into mine, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Depends,” I shot back with a smile of my own, “Is it a date?”

“What do you mean?” he whined, “of course it’s a date.”

Laughing and pecking his cheek once, twice, three times until he turned his head to capture my lips with his, I pulled away with a breathless grin, pretty sure that I looked like a complete idiot with butterflies practically roaring through the entirety of my abdomen, “then sure, I’d love that.”

I didn’t know anything about what would happen to our small animation once it would be aired. There was a slight apprehension prickling at the back of my mind every time I thought about it, but somehow all this was overshadowed by the abundance of joy swelling through my chest every time I caught a glimpse of Mingi’s face, knowing that he was mine and that he believed in me, even if the rest of the world didn’t.

And that in the end, it would be okay.

[honey-dewey]

Patient Zero

Chapter Four

Pairing: Din Djarin/Imperial Reader

Word Count: 2,885

Warnings: No big ones, mention of blood draws.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

Working with the Empire as one of their researchers was, in theory, a boring job. At least, right up until you were assigned the mysterious Patient Zero. With no records, no data, and no name, he may as well not exist. But he’s much more than meets the eye, and you’re about to find that out the hard way.

Multi-chapter story. Chapter 4 of 4. Read Chapter 1, Read Chapter 2 Read Chapter 3

Returning to the medi-ship with the blaster hidden in your clothes wasn’t exactly the smartest move, but it was the only one you could pull off. It was nighttime, so the lights were all dimmed and the only person you knew would truly be awake was Yen. Walking through the halls as if nothing was wrong, you headed towards the medical rooms, where Din was likely sleeping. If all went right, you wouldn’t have to reveal your blaster. If it didn’t, well, then things were about to get ugly. 

Yen was, as expected, outside Din’s door when you walked up to it. 

“You’re back early!” He said happily, yawning widely and grinning. “Have fun?” 

“Not really,” you grumbled, trying to act natural. “There is sand everywhere.” 

Yen laughed. “Damn. Why don’t you go shower and get some sleep? Patient Zero was a doll for me while you were gone, by the way.” 

You took a breath, preparing your poker face. “Ah, that reminds me. I got orders from the boss while I was on my way back. They want to move him. Something about an upgraded facility in the outer rim that might be able to finally ID him.” 

“Oh!” Yen perked up. “That would be nice! When do you leave for that?” 

“Uh,” you shuffled your feet and put on your best guilty performance. “Technically I was supposed to leave yesterday. Figured I’d come to get him as soon as I got back, but I couldn’t make it in time. Is it okay if I take him now?” 

Yen sighed. “Sweet Maker. Alright, I’ll go prep a ship. Sure you don’t wanna wait until morning?” 

Shaking your head, you pulled your key card from your pocket. “Nah. I have to make up for lost time. And I have a ship prepped. Never turned the one I used off, so she’s still running, ready for immediate takeoff.” 

“Alrighty then,” Yen said, stepping back as you unlocked Din’s door. “I guess this is goodbye.” 

Guilt gripped your heart. “Yeah. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” 

Yen smiled. “Me too.” 

Just like that, he was gone, and you were sliding into Din’s room. “Zero!” 

He shifted in his bed, rolling over and blinking at you. “Wha?” 

You rushed to his side. “Get up. We’re going.” 

Din’s face changed, confusion decorating his features as he sat up in bed. “What?” 

Taking his hands, you looked directly into his eyes. “Din Djarin, I am taking you home.” 

Din jumped to his feet, not even bothering with shoes as he followed you out. You kept your head high as you walked, hoping not to run into anyone else. Luckily, you were able to get Din onto the ship without any issue. Unluckily, as soon as the doors were closed and you were climbing up into the cockpit, alarms started to blare. 

“Dank ferrik!” You yelled, sliding into the pilot’s seat and gripping the controls. “Hold on!” 

Powering the ship up, you took off, immediately swerving to avoid hitting a TIE fighter. The medi-ship didn’t have much by way of attack power, but it could absolutely defend itself if it had to. “Come on!” 

Din gripped the chair he was sitting in, his face tight with worry. “Let me pilot.” 

“Little busy!” You shouted back, swerving again and swearing violently. 

Din stood, holding onto the control panel for support. “Move over!” 

You kept your hands on the controls, standing and letting him sit. As soon as he took over the controls, it was like he was piloting a whole new ship. The Crest moved with odd ease, flipping and swerving with no effort at all. 

“Where to?” 

“Tatooine!” 

Din hit the hyperdrive, the blackness of space blurring away and fading into the pale blue of hyperdrive. You finally relaxed, falling limp into one of the copilot chairs. 

“Okay.” Din turned, keeping an eye on the controls as he put the ship into autopilot. “Explain.” 

And you did. You told him everything. The trip to Tatooine, learning who he was through Boba Fett, the plan to get him out and send him on his way to reunite Mandalore. He listened intently throughout the entire thing, facial expression never changing. 

Finally, once you were done, he nodded. “Does this ship have a communicator?” 

Twenty minutes later, you watched as Din set up the holo-communicator, frustration making his face pull. Eventually, it worked, a shaky image of a man appearing. 

“Din?” The staticky voice said. “Is that you?” 

“Yes,” Din said, nodding. 

You stepped away, allowing Din to have his conversation in private. Shutting the cockpit door, you headed down the ladder to the cargo hold, beginning to set up two small spaces to sleep in storage cabinets. It wasn’t neat, nor was it very comfortable, but it was private and it would work. 

“Hey.” 

You jumped, seeing Din holding the holo-communicator. A scrawny blonde with light robes and a single glove was on the screen. “Who’s that?” You asked. 

“His name is Luke.” Din held the communicator out to you. “He wants to talk to you.” 

You took the communicator, setting it up on a crate and urging Din to sit beside you. “Luke. Hello.” 

“Hello,” Luke said cheerily. An urgent babbling cut him off, and he grinned. “Din, your son is very eager to see you again.” 

Your heart almost stopped when Luke lifted a very cute green baby up, his wide brown eyes finding Din’s face and he cooed happily. 

“Is that,” 

“Grogu? Yeah.” 

You smiled. “Hello Grogu. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Grogu burbled and began to chew on a metal fixture on Luke’s coat. 

Luke gently pulled Grogu away and turned back to you. “Din tells me you’ve been doing regular tests on him, the most concerning is a blood draw. Now, we’ve had theories for years, but I’m eager to see if they’re to be confirmed today.” 

“Well,” you started. “We noticed when we started taking samples of Din, that he wasn’t naturally Force sensitive. However, he reacted to the use of the Force and he had a higher M-count. So, we assumed he’d associated with a particularly strong Force user for a long period of time, and that exposure to the Force changed his systems and adapted him to become more Force tolerant.” 

“Wait,” Din cut in. “Does that mean I’m like Grogu?” 

Luke shook his head. “No. I doubt you could be able to wield the Force. However, this means that the things the Jedi only theorized are true. I would love for you to join me on my planet and explore this concept further. Din, you would be welcome as well, of course.” 

You were shocked. Learning and researching with the Empire was one thing, but with Luke Skywalker? It was a dream come true. 

“Of course,” you said. “I would love to.” 

“And you Din? I could always use more protection out here.” 

It wasn’t even a question for Din. He nodded. “Absolutely. But we have to stop on Tatooine first. Can you send us the coordinates?” 

The communicator pinged, the coordinates saving to the device. 

Luke smiled. “May the Force be with you.” 

“And with you,” you responded, shutting off the communicator and looking at Din. “We’ll be on Tatooine in about 12 hours. Do you want to sleep?” 

Din nodded. “If I’m not up, can you dock us in a specific place?” 

You agreed, and Din immediately went off to sleep away his rescue. Meanwhile, you settled down in the cockpit, ready to land the ship when it came out of hyperspace. 

Approximately twelve hours later, you were landing the ship, hesitating upon hearing faint yelling. 

“I swear to the Force Mando! If this ship is falling apart again I will kill you myself, beskar be damned! Where the hell were you? No wonder this thing is always in horrible shape!” 

You grinned, stepping out of the ship to find a short woman in a mechanic’s uniform. “Hello! Are you Peli?” 

The woman scowled. “Are you with Mando?” 

“Uh.” You had no idea how to respond. “Yes?” 

“Yeah, they’re with me.” 

Peli softened when she saw Din, stepping forward to get a better look. “Where’d the helmet go?” 

Din shrugged. “I was kidnapped. The armor’s all with Fett.” 

In an instant, there was a blaster pointed at your face. “Did they kidnap you?” 

“No!” Din scrambled to correct her. “No! They broke me out.” 

You nodded, letting out a breath as Peli lowered the blaster. “Fine. Do you need speeders?” 

Din shook his head. “Just a place to refuel and get some new clothes.” 

Peli looked Din up and down, finally taking in his stained white Empire issue clothes and no shoes. She did the same to you, eyes narrowing at your cleaner cut researchers uniform. “C’mon in. I don’t suppose you’ve still got the little one, do you?” 

“He’s off getting proper training,” Din reassured, following Peli into the building. “With a Jedi.” 

Peli made a noise of approval as she handed you a stack of clothes. “Try those, I think they’ll fit. And Mando,” 

“Din.” 

“Din,” Peli corrected herself without skipping a beat. “Try these.” 

She left you two to change, abandoning the Empire white for Tatooine browns, greens, and burgundies. As you adjusted the loose cargo pants, you giggled at Din, who was desperately trying to pat his hair down. “C’mere.” 

He moved towards you, waiting as you sat on the bed. You patted your thighs. “Sit. I’ll fix your hair.” 

Din sat between your legs, allowing you to slowly comb through his hair with your fingers. He’d been decent about self-care while he’d been with you, always shaving when his facial hair got annoying and never needing help with his hair before this. You had to wonder how mentally drained he was if he needed your assistance here. 

Peli came back in, holding two plates of food. When she saw the blissed out Din, she quietly put the plates down. “Do you want a real comb?” She whispered. 

“Yes please,” you whispered back, nodding your thanks for the food. 

When she returned with the comb stick in a cup of water, you thanked her again and slowly drew the wet comb through Din’s hair. It worked much better than your hands, untangling the knots and taming the cowlicks. When Din finally got up to eat, he looked much more presentable. 

You turned to use the comb on yourself, but Din stopped you. Taking your wrist, he looked at you with pleading eyes. “Can I? I mean, you did it for me. It only seems right that I, y’know,” 

“Of course.” You dropped the comb into his hands and sat on the floor, waiting. Din carefully put his legs around you, sitting on the bed and wetting the comb. Water trickled down the back of your neck as he worked, his warm hands firm on your head as he guided you. The tug of the comb lulled you into a soft, gentle place. A place beyond trouble or fear. 

But good things don’t last, and suddenly you were up and eating so you could head out to Fett’s palace. 

“You come back now, you hear me?” Peli said as you climbed aboard the ship again. “I don’t want you dropping out of the galaxy, okay?” 

“Yes Peli!” Din called back, shutting the hatch. “See you soon!” 

You smiled, waving as you took off. Fett’s palace wasn’t far, so you didn’t even bother napping during the short trip out. 

When Din landed, he eagerly bounded off, knocking firmly on the front door you’d stood before not even a week prior. 

“It’s Din.” He confirmed to the hatch. “I’m here to see Boba and reclaim my armor.” 

Immediately, the doors opened, and Fennec was scooping Din up in a hug, his feet actually leaving the floor. “You had us worried sick!” She said happily. “Boba and I assumed you were dead! And you,” She said, turning to you. “You returned our bounty hunter safely. Is there any way we can repay you?” 

You shook your head. “No m’am.” 

Fennec snorted. “Please. Just Fennec will work. C’mon, let’s go see Boba.” 

Of course, on the way, you two detoured to pick up Don’s armor. He methodically put it all on, from the flight suit to the vambraces. You watched, memorizing his every movement. He picked the helmet up, staring at the dark visor. “When I swore the Mandalorian creed,” he said softly. “I swore that if my helmet ever came off in the presence of any other living thing, I wouldn’t ever put it back on. I would lose that part of myself, forever.” 

You stood, taking the helmet from his loose grip. “Din. You’ve earned this helmet ten times over.” Slowly sliding the helmet on, you noticed an immediate difference. Din stood taller, more confident and clearly more comfortable. “It suits you.” 

Fennec poked her head in. “Are we ready?” 

Din nodded, strapping a strange hilt to his belt and sliding a pure metal spear into a sheath on his back. “Let’s go.” 

Meeting Fett again was interesting. He, like Fennec, thanked you for returning Din. You simply responded that it had felt right, and there was no need to thank you. 

That night, after ample private celebrating during which Din removed his helmet so he could drink, you were alone, staring at the moons through a barred window. Slowly turning over, you sighed, trying to chase away the loneliness in your chest. 

A hesitant knock at your door snapped you upright. “Come in?” 

Din pushed the door open, slipping into the room. He was in his pyjamas, armor nowhere in sight. “Can’t sleep?” 

“And I take it you can’t either,” you pointed out, standing and stretching. “What’s troubling you Din?” 

“Loneliness.” 

You smiled. “My bed is always open,” you offered, not even thinking before you spoke. 

Din blinked. “Really?” 

Before you could hesitate or stop yourself, you nodded, scooting over. “Of course. C’mon.” 

He slid into the bed with you, eyes immediately blinking shut as you drew the covers up, covering yourself and Din to the shoulders. He relaxed, breathing out and sliding an arm over your body. You didn’t protest, instead curling closer to his warmth. “Are you really going to stay with Luke and Grogu?” You asked the hushed air. 

Din breathed out. “For a bit. I have a planet to run, apparently.” 

You laughed a bit, trying to stay quiet. “Right. The planet.” 

Din smiled. You could feel his cheek moving against your head. “What about you? Will you stay with Luke forever?” 

“Probably not,” you admitted. “I’m a traveler at heart.” 

“Me too,” Din said. “Bounty hunting was how I got out of the covert.” 

You snuggled deeper under the covers. “But you’ll stay with Luke for a bit?” 

Din was quiet for a minute. “As long as you stay too.” 

His response confused you. “What do you mean?” 

“I like you,” he admitted, his voice tender. “I enjoy having you around.” 

You smiled. “I enjoy having you around too. Can we finally be friends instead of researcher and project?” 

Now it was Din’s turn to laugh. “I thought we already were friends.” 

“Maybe we can be something more than.” 

Din hummed out a shallow breath. “Something more,” he said. “I like the sound of that.” 

The next day, as the twin suns painted the sky a brilliant orange and pink, you bid Fennec and Boba farewell as you got aboard the Crest. Din let you pilot, opting to, instead, organize the ship. You heard him clattering around every so often, but didn’t question it. He’d clearly flown a Crest before, and you trusted him to make this his home. 

Finally, you landed on the mysterious green planet from the coordinates. Setting down near a temple, you drew a cloak across your shoulders as you stepped off the ship. 

Immediately, Grogu came running as fast as his tiny legs would let him. Din crouched down and scooped him up in a tight hug, his shoulders heaving as you realized he was crying. Quickly ditching the helmet, he let Grogu pat his face down, smiling behind his tears. 

“Ah?” Grogu finally noticed you, pointing one small claw at you. 

“Yeah,” Din said. “That’s a very nice person who helped me come home to you.” 

You smiled, stepping forward and taking Grogu’s hand. “Mhm. Your dad is very brave and has waited a long time to see you again. He told me all about you.” 

Grogu cooed, cuddling into the curve of Din’s shoulder and falling asleep. 

Luke came over the hill, much slower than Grogu. “Hello.” He waved. “How was the trip?” 

Din shrugged. “Just fine. We didn’t find trouble, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Perfect!” Luke said, clasping his hands. “I’ve got two rooms set up for you guys, if you’ll follow me. I apologize if they’re messy, my nephew is visiting.” 

“Actually,” you said quickly, glancing to Din and getting an approving nod. “Is there any way you could make that just one room?” 

Din smiled, kicking his helmet. You reached down to pick it up. “Yeah,” he said, putting the arm that wasn’t holding Grogu around your waist. “Just one room.”

[edweenie]

"If you want something done, you gotta do it yourself" -Me, while writing RiDe fluff until 3am

Richtofen gazed upon the castle that he grew to enjoy over the past few months. At first he was a little hesitant about being here, but as time went by, he actually had ended up enjoying it- well, as much as he could, anyway. Other than the typical zombie hoards and the constant gnawing of hunger in his stomach, the trip to Austria hadn’t been so bad overall. Though, the cold nights were also a pain in the-

“Hey, Doc?”

Richtofen spun around to the sound of the familiar voice of his American friend.

“What is it, Dempsey?”

“Did I interrupt you muttering to yourself?”

Richtofen crossed his arms.

“I may have a couple loose screws, but I definitely don’t talk to myself!”

Tank rolled his eyes, a slight smile on his face.

“I don’t!”

The Marine ignored him. “Anyways, Doc. You told me we could talk later, so…” Tank raised his eyebrows. “...Now’s a good time?”

Damn it. That’s right. 

Dempsey’s been asking to talk to the German for close to a week now, and every effort has been in vain. Richtofen was terrified of the Marine, however, it never used to be like this. Ever since, back in Germany,  he’d catch himself starring for a second too long, or his stomach turning when he walked past and was able to get a subtle whiff of the American man’s unique scent. And he hoped to God he didn’t remember when Tank had kissed him on the cheek that one time they all got a tad intoxicated… 

He didn’t want Dempsey to notice how he has been acting, though he probably already did. This ‘talk’ is probably Dempsey telling Richtofen to back off. To not be so creepy. He didn’t know what suddenly had gotten a hold of him. It was not like the German to grow feelings for someone, especially so soon. After all, this isn’t highschool. There’s no time or place for puny little crushes.

“Nein, Dempsey. I’m an extremely busy man. Please, go bother Takeo.”

Richtofen made a shooing motion with his hand and proceeded to walk in the opposite direction. 

“Oh, come the hell on, Richtofen!”

Tank picked up a wad of snow before packing it into a ball and throwing it towards the Germans back. Without even a flinch after hitting him spot on, Richtofen’s figure slowly faded into the distance, while Tank stood there with his arms crossed, kicking the snow on the ground. 

“He can be such a little bastard. Who does he think he is, acting all high and mighty when…” Tank cupped his hands around his mouth. “EVERYBODY HERE HATES HIM!” he yelled. 

*Later That Night*

The fire felt so warm against the pale skin of the doctor…

This was always the most peaceful time, when they’d all gather around the fire and eat together, clean their guns, and sometimes talk over the events of the day. Nikolai and Dempsey would always have something to say, whether it was them complaining about the meal or arguing about who killed more zombies. Once you looked past the annoyance of the two, Richtofen and Takeo found themselves, more often than not, chuckling at their behavior. 

“...and then there came out big Russian bear-  at least nine feet tall, with razor sharp claws.”

“What’d you do, Nik? Climb up his back and slit his throat?” Dempsey questioned, sarcasm in his voice as if he didn’t believe the story to begin with.

“Not even close! I kept him as pet.” Nikolai said, matter-of-factly. 

The three chuckled.

“I don’t know why you laugh, this is true story. I had him for three years.”

“Okay, Nik. Whatever you say.”

They continued eating among the warmth of the fire, sprouting comments here and there.

Dempsey sat up and stretched, overexaggerating his groan. 

“Well, friends, I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.” He said, walking away from the group. “If you need me, don’t.”

After some more time by the fire, the other three men decided to rest as well. Richtofen cleaned all of the cans up while Nikolai and Takeo put out the fire and made sure everything was back in place. 

“I’ll talk to you two tomorrow,” Richtofen said, waving goodnight.

“Goodnight, doctor.” Takeo waved.

*

Richtofen stood by his door, hands on his hips. 

“Do you think it’s funny, American? Do you think it’s funny to annoy me?”

Tank sat there, at the doctors own desk, leaning back in his chair and looking up at him with raised eyebrows and his right leg casually crossed over his left. 

“Do you think it’s funny to constantly blow me off?”

Richtofen let out a single and exaggerated ‘ha’.

“Blow you off? Americans can be so daft! I told you I was busy. Why don’t you run off to bed like you said you were going to, hm? Or does the big bad Marine need to be tucked in?”

“I ain’t going anywhere until you talk to me.”

“Get out before you really piss me off!”

Tank sat up and began to raise his voice. “Talk to me before you piss me off!”

Richtofen kicked the desk. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” he practically screamed, his voice echoing throughout the stone walls. 

Tank sat there, looking up at the German’s bulging veins and red face. 

“Why are you so angry?” Tank questioned, almost in a whisper. “I just wanted to talk to you.” the American stood up, moving so fast the chair behind him fell backwards. “No wonder nobody here trusts you.” and with that, Tank walks past the German while purposely shoving him with the side of his body. 

**

Richtofen sighed. He’d been tossing and turning for hours. Though struggling with insomnia is a normal occurrence for the doctor, this time was different. He genuinely felt bad for the American. He slowly sat up and began putting on his boots. He knew where Tank normally slept, so he decided to take a walk and ‘accidentally’ run into his sleeping quarters, (with the subtle hopes of him being asleep so he didn’t have to face the man.)

But sure enough, as he walked by the small cell that Dempsey made his cozy living space, he was wide awake, leaned back against the wall with a freshly lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

Richtofen laughed awkwardly. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

Dempsey slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I slept fine. Just woke up outta nowhere.”

Richtofen started walking closer, eventually stopping about five feet away from his comrade and taking a seat. He sighed, “Look, Demps-”

“I get it, Doc.”

Richtofen looked up at him, puzzled.

“Excuse me?”

“I get it. You’re stressed, you’re confused. You’re under a lot of pressure, and I get it.” Tank took another slow inhale of the cigarette, then proceeded to blow out the smoke. Richtofen’s eyes lit up. “De-”

“But don’t you dare take that frustration out on me for wanting to talk to you.”

Richtofen sighed and looked down at his legs. He was truly ashamed for the way he’d been acting, but he could never in a million years tell Tank why.

Dempsey gestured at the cigarette. “Need a puff?”

“No, thank you.” Richtofen said, twiddling with his thumbs. “I am… truly sorry.” He looked up at the American and met eyes with him. “Truly, truly sorry, Dempsey.”

 

The Marine smirked and stuck the cigarette into the concrete, tossing the butt to the side. 

“I’m free now, if you’d like to talk,” he said, chuckling awkwardly again.

Tank exhaled.

“I just wanted to tell you…”

Richtofen clenched. Here we go. The American’s bright blue eyes met Richtofen's soft green ones, as he met him with a delicate smile.

“I’ve seen how hard you’re working to keep us all on the right track. We’ve all noticed. Whether we trust you or not, that’s another thing. But don’t think we don’t see how much you try…” Tank crossed his arms. “But don’t think I’ve gone soft on ya. I just dont want me to be the one you murder when you turn your back on us.” He winked, and Richtofen chuckled.

“If I were to murder anyone, it’d be that damned Nikolai.”

“Is that a promise, Doc?”

“Oh, it’s a swear.”

They both chuckled, and Richtofen began to feel uneasy, remembering the whole reason he was scared to communicate with Dempsey in the beginning. The feelings were inappropriate… and they were beginning to creep up on the German again. Richtofen hastily got up and began to dust himself off, “Well, nice talk, thank you for your words, but I should really get to bed.”

Tank got up too. “I don’t think you’ll have much time to sleep.” he yawned.

“Ah, it’s always like this.”

Tank slowly stepped in and wrapped his arms around the tired German’s neck, squeezing him almost too hard and practically forcing Richtofen forward. The German, at that moment, was flooded with more emotions than he ever had felt before. What is going on with Dempsey?

Now that Richtofen thought about it, ever since he’d taken the other Dempsey’s soul, he had started acting strange. After the initial cold shoulder towards the German, he almost began acting as if he cares less about what happens to him… like he’d already accepted this was his fate. No- this was not their fate. They would live to see a better tomorrow. Richtofen finally hugged Tank back, even tighter. He ignored the voices in his head telling him he was making a mistake. He needed this, and Dempsey needed this too. He practically felt tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “We will make it out of here, Dempsey. You just have to…” Richtofen choked back the tears that needed so desperately to flow. “...trust me.”

Tank squeezed tighter. 

“I’ll trust you.”

[sustraiii]

TEAM ZRCN ARC 3 - CHAPTER 20

I did say I had a bad feeling about this didn’t I?

Thanks to @neopoliitan for lending me his help with proofreading again!

HELIA

"I mean you've got to have some crazy stories right?"

Helia smirked into her cup of tea, then took a long sip before responding to the question. "I don't know what you're implying, Elio." She teased.

"No crazy fans? No crazy Grimm battles?" Elio pressed. "Come on, I bet you have some stories to tell."

"Not everyone has such a colourful life as you," Cherry laughed, nudging Elio in the side.

"Colourful is a bit of an understatement,” Morgan quipped, not looking up from where he was tinkering away on what looked to be Calantha’s armour.

“To answer your question - no, I do not have any crazy fans,” Helia responded, smiling slightly when she noticed that Elio seemed disappointed to hear that this was the case. “However, I do have a few crazy stories under my belt. There was one time in Higanbana that was particularly wild if I do say so myself.”

Elio leaned forward in interest. “Oh, do go on.”

Spurred on by Elio’s words, and further encouraged by the captive audience she had in Cherry and Calantha, Helia began to retell the events of what happened when her team had stopped in the town of Higanbana. 

It was one of the last good memories she had of her team before growing tension had forced them apart. They were on their way back to Mistral following a mission in Shion when they had chosen to stop and rest. The journey back was taking longer than expected, hampered by Anthea having hurt her ankle, but they knew the village had an inn as they had passed through it on their initial journey. It seemed like a reasonable place to rest up. 

In the end, it had turned out to be a good job they had stopped there - as only a few hours later the village had to contend with a large Archelon that had come up from the nearby river and had nearly bitten some poor teen’s arm off. 

A long, tiresome battle between HNSA and the Archelon had soon followed, and after nearly two hours, they finally succeeded in defeating it. The Archelon had been a troublesome Grimm to deal with; its hard shell leaving it with only a few precise places to truly wound it. There was also its slightly hooked mouth to contend with, which made it nigh on impossible for anyone other than Anthea using her crossbow to hit it, until Leyla was able to successfully use her semblance to restrain it long enough for Alcyone and Helia to finish it off.

As she wrapped up her tale, there was a hint of sadness behind her words, the pain of Alcyone’s still recent passing rising up again. When tears threatened to form, she looked away, and made a hasty apology for almost crying.

“It’s okay,” Elio said, in a surprisingly soothing voice. He reached across and held her hand gently for a moment. “You don’t have to apologise.”

Helia smiled back at him in gratitude and took a moment to calm herself again with a steadying breath. She had just settled back down when Wren returned to the base with ZRCN in tow. She had received a call earlier in the morning and had left in a hurry soon after. Elio had tried to pry some information from Parson, teasing the man over the kiss he had shared with Wren the night before in an effort to get some information out of him, but he seemed to know just as little as the rest of them.

Wren and ZRCN entered the communications room and Helia noted that they appeared to be missing a member as Xanthos was nowhere to be seen. Clearly, she was not the only one who noticed as Elio was quick to ask in a light tone, “Where’s Ravindra? Don’t tell me he’s still in bed.”

“He’s on his way with Captain Bougainvillea,” Wren responded sharply. Helia was not used to such a tone from the older woman, so she would have been lying if she said she hadn’t been a little startled. Looking up at her, Helia could see the older woman appeared on edge, and it was only then that she realised the members of ZRCN who were present also appeared to look unsettled. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other Mob Ops either; Elio had promptly gone quiet following Wren’s response,  he and the others all now looking directly at their leader, curious about her sudden change in attitude. 

Despite some questioning looks from her teammates Wren said nothing and remained silent until the aforementioned arrival of Captain Bougainvillea with Xanthos in tow. When the two of them appeared, Helia suddenly had a good idea what had rattled everyone so much.

Xanthos was still wearing his formal clothes from the night before, only he was now down a jacket, his tie hung haphazardly around his neck, and the left sleeve had been torn at the shoulder.

“What even...What happened to him?” Morgan asked, following a sharp intake of breath.

“A member of staff at the university found him pretty banged up in one of the broom closets,” Carmen explained, looking at Xanthos as she spoke. “One of the medical staff checked him over and he was given the all clear - just a little dazed if anything.” Carmen smiled weakly before looking at Wren, a more serious expression taking hold. “You’ll want to hear what he has to say.”

She gestured for Xanthos to speak, but he appeared hesitant, and for a moment struggled to meet Wren’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” He finally said. “I really tried to stop them, but I failed…”

“What are you sorry for?” Wren asked.

“They took her - Belleza and Miho took Rosie!” Xanthos responded, a mix of anger and frustration in his voice. His gaze shifted over to Neela. “They took your sister too. Mira tried to help me, but she was caught in the battle and they took her with them.”

Neela blinked. “Ravi-”

But Xanthos had already turned away and was looking back at Wren. “I should have been able to do more, to put up more of a fight. They caught me off guard, and now because of me we might have lost them both!”

Wren’s expression softened considerably upon hearing his confession, and Helia watched as she stepped forward and gave him a small embrace. “It’s alright, Xanthos,” She told him as she pulled away. 

“But…” He began to stammer.

“No buts,” Wren cut him off. “You did what you could at the time, and that’s all I can ask.”

“So what do we do now?” Parson asked. He rose from his chair and came to stand by Wren, resting a hand on her shoulder. Before Wren could even give an answer, it was Calantha who spoke up first.

“We could call Belle.” Was her suggestion, holding her modified scroll in one hand for emphasis.

“You’re able to call her?” Cherry asked, sounding surprised.

“Yes?”

“And you didn’t tell us this before?”

“It’s alright Cherry, I already knew,” Wren cut in, getting the other woman to stand down from her line of questioning. “The General and I both are aware she has a line of contact to her sisters. Numerous attempts were made to reach out to them before and after we left Atlas, but our calls were all ignored.”

“So why would she answer now?” Morgan questioned.

“Because she has something we want,” Calantha responded grimly. 

The room fell silent after that, nobody appearing to know what to say or what to do, until finally Helia heard Wren speak again.

“Call her. And put her on speaker.”

Calantha nodded and tapped away on her scroll quickly, before placing it in the centre of the table where she was sat with Helia, Elio, and Cherry. Like everyone else, Helia watched as the scroll rang, waiting for the telltale noise the call had been connected. When the familiar click occurred, Helia was not alone in inhaling sharply.

“Helllooooooooooooooo,” Belleza Rossi’s voice rang out across the room. “Is that you, little lamb?”

Calantha hesitated. “It is.”

“Oh good, I was expecting a call from you soon. I’ve been waiting for my scroll for hours now for it to come in.” She laughed loudly. “Is Major Honeycutt there too?”

Wren leaned in close to the scroll. “I’m here,” She answered simply. “We’re all here.”

“How nice for you,” Belleza responded, her voice oozing with fake sweetness. “You must be calling about those items I have, correct?”

“They’re not items, they’re people,” Wren scolded.

“Mind your tone, major,” Belleza warned. 

“We do not appreciate these games, Miss Rossi,” Wren pressed on. “We want Mira and Rosie back safe now.”

“Does that mean I get to keep the other one?”

Helia looked up, catching Cherry silently mouth “Other one?” in the direction of Elio and Morgan, who shrugged in response. 

“I don’t follow.”

There was a ping sound on the scroll as another message came through. Wren was quick to give her consent, and Calantha leaned forward, tapping a few buttons on the screen to open the message, which turned out to be an image attachment, and opened it up. Helia studied the screen intently as a silver haired boy appeared on it. She did not recognise him, but it was very clear that all of ZRCN did, none more so than Zelde.

“That’s my brother!” She blurted out, which quickly answered any questions Helia and the others had over his identity. “But that’s impossible. He’s in Atlas right now.”

“He was in Atlas,” Belleza corrected, having heard Zelde’s comment through the scroll. “He was a little gift we picked up just before we left for Highpoint. I would have thought by now his parents might have filed a report for him, but we’ve heard nothing.” There was a pause before she could be heard snickering. “And here I was thinking I had parental problems.”

Although Zelde was standing far away from her, Helia could sense her tension from the other side of the room. On either side of her, Zelde was flanked by Cordovan and Neela, who pressed against her in a comforting manner. Helia could not imagine what it felt like to find out your brother had been held in the clutches of Belleza Rossi for all this time.

“We want them all back,” Wren said into the scroll. “Do you hear me? All of them.”

“I hear you loud and clear,” Belleza responded. “And you can have them all back. But first you can do something for me.”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I have to say yet!” Belleza protested.

Wren groaned loudly. “Go on.”

“Wise choice,” Belleza said, as though agreeing to hear her terms was some great decision. “I have something you want, and you have something I want - or rather my sister wants - so it stands to reason we can resolve all of this with a simple trade.”

“I’m not-”

“You don’t get the deciding vote here,” Belleza said sharply, cutting Wren off before she could finish. “Calantha, are you listening?” 

Helia looked up at Calantha, and noticed how rigid she had become.

“You know I couldn’t care less where you are and what you are doing right now,” Belleza began, her words implying she was speaking solely to Calantha at this point. “But Bianca...she misses you dearly. She blames me for you leaving naturally, even though I’ve told her time and again, you made that choice on your own.” Belleza let out an exaggerated sigh. “Come home, Cala. Bianca misses you and I know you miss her too. Come back to Olympia with me and I’ll let the others walk free.”

“What if I say no?” Calantha asked.

“No?” Belleza repeated. “No?” By the tone she used, she hadn’t even considered this to be an option from her sister. “If you say no, then it's quite simple - they come home with me instead.” There was a long pause before she added, “Since you seem unable to make a decision right now, I have decided to be generous and give you some time to think things over. You can have forty-eight hours. And if I don’t hear anything from you by then, I will take that as your answer. Goodbye for now, Calantha. I hope to see from you soon.”

“Wait!” Wren called. “Are they safe? Is Rosie-”

But Belleza had already hung up before Wren could get her answer. Wren placed her hands on the table, and lowered her head, sighing softly to herself.

“Malaka!” Elio cursed from his seat. “What are we going to do now?”

[audreyandherocs]

Thea's Cave: Chapter 5

<Previous Chapter>

“You don’t have a communicator?!”

“Tommy, tommy, I literally woke up in the world just…I don’t know how long actually?” said Thea, her face scrunching at the realization that she didn’t keep count. “Wait, what’s a communicator?”

Tubbo trotted up to her and pulled out his communicator, showing it to her. “We use these to call and keep into contact with people. Also other things like if people get despawned or something.”

“Ohhhh, yeah definitely don’t have that. If I did, then I would’ve known there were other people around.”

“This is unacceptable! We got to get you one now, or how else are you going to need help from Tubbo and I!” yelled Tommy as if it was a crime.

Thea folded her arms together and human, leaning slightly against her wall. Her newly acquired bees were buzzing around which was a great delight to Tubbo.

“I mean, I’m close to L’manberg to book for it” noted Thea but the boys didn’t notice it. They were going in and out of the house, exploring everywhere as Thea just snorted at their antics but kept on working and learning.

She had a crossbow, snatched from the pillagers all those time ago, and apparently, she could shoot fireworks out of it. She had planned to experiment more with the fireworks but that plan went out of the window when the boys came.

It had been only three days since she met these boys and she already knew, they were chaotic and would need supervision when they were handling TnT. So, she had gone out and looked for some animals, Tommy enthusiastically helping her round up cows and chickens, and bees by an enthusiastic Tubbo. Thea found some sheep and now she was just tending to them and the farmland.

“HEY THEA,” yelled Tommy from the balcony as she turned to him nonchalantly, “WHERE ARE YOUR GUEST BEDROOMS?!”

“I DON’T HAVE ANY!” she yelled back and turned to her planning potatoes.

“WHAT?! WHY!?”

“WHY WOULD I?!” she yelled back a question, before snorting. There was someone jumping off and Thea turned back to see Tommy and Tubbo parkouring off the balcony and rushing towards her.

“So we can sleep over!”

Thea stood up and dusted off her pants, noting absentmindedly that she should get new clothes.

“If you guys do, just set a bed somewhere in the bedroom, I don’t care. I got wool and dye, just mark which is which and mind my stuff.”

Tommy and Tubbo beamed and dashed off as Thea realized she had just given the two permission to set their place. Thea shrugged as she heard the two boys in her home yelling about something and as she collected honey, she felt another presence.

She turned to it, seeing Wilbur walking down her little path. His eyes met hers and Thea instinctively waved her hand to greet him, smiling as she did.

“Hello Mr. President” she said as Wilbur gave a smile.

“Thea, I see you got a house now” he said, hands folded behind his back and head turning around to take in the place.

“Yeah, don’t need much sleep and got it done” said Thea as she put away her honey. “Here on some official business?”

“Something like that but it’s nothing right now. Tommy had mentioned a few things and I had some time so I thought I would come check it out.”

Thea hummed and nodded. Her eyes focused on Wilbur’s face, taking his features in before noting how skinny he was. Even if he was tall, he looked to be pushed thin from exhaustion and lack of management. Although his eyes were not focused on her, she could see the tiredness and the bubbling madness that was threatening to burst.

She didn’t want to think why the madness was there, but she guessed it had to do with elections and politics. It always did a number on people, one way or another.

Thea gestured to her home and smiled, “Well, would you like to come in for some tea? It’ll be nice to get to know you more.”

Wilbur jumped in surprise, eyes wide.

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“I want to” said Thea, placing a hand on his arm but just above hovering. An open invitation but not one of force.

Wilbur looked at her and his posture relaxed, giving her a small smile. “That would nice, thank you.”

Thea grinned and guided Wilbur to her home. “Tommy and Tubbo are here already so what’s one more?”

Wilbur was led into her home and was immediately hit with the smell of food. His mouth watered at the smell and he then wondered when he last ate. He took another whiff and knew it was stew with freshly baked bread mixed in it. The door was opened, allowing the smell of flowers waft in.

He looked past the smell of food and he found himself standing in the room. He saw furnaces and her crafting station to one side of the home, where nearby were piles of chests and barrels. A weaving station was another part of the home with a chest bit it. There was a table with chairs surrounding it, on top of it with a nicely placed cactus.

There were two entrances, one leading up to the balcony and one leading down to the basement.

There was thumping upstairs and Wilbur instantly recognized Tommy’s and Tubbo’s voices. There were also sounds of barks and remembered Lupa and Fenrir.

Wilbur heard clattering as he turned to see Thea walking from her ‘kitchen’ and to the table. He politely walked over and sat in a chair as Thea sat opposite of him. She served the tea, him politely saying thank you before the two sat there with their tea and snacks.

There were a tense few awkward seconds before Thea felt the need to break the ice. “So, how are things?”

Wilbur chuckled nervously, lowering his cup. “I’ve been busy, with the election coming up and work to be done.”

Thea politely nodded, “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“Excuse me?”

Thea took a sip before speaking. “One cannot take care of others if they cannot take care of themselves.”

Wilbur stared at her bewildered as Thea elaborated, “I get it, being president is stressful and there are ton of things to do and think about. But you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be able to take care of anyone else; much less a country.”

The man in front of her ran a hand through his hair, resting his arms on the table. “You do make sense, but there’s a lot you don’t know. From the start, we fought for our freedom and our country but then once it was over, my control on the country has been slipping. Losing this election would make our effort for naught.”

Thea let him speak on and on, silently encouraging Wilbur to drink and eat the snacks. Soon they were finished as Wilbur sighed, leaning against his chair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t plan on-“

“I’m a new person, I literally know nothing or anyone else. With the election soon, whatever you say to me won’t matter either way, I won’t be able to influence any changes and it’ll be nothing once it’s over” cut in Thea, “So, don’t worry about it.”

Wilbur stared at her bewildered and he was only met with a straight-face. It was only a few moments pasted that Thea realized what she had said and her face was covered with her hands.

“Sorryyyyyyy, totally uncalled for” she groaned out.

Wilbur chuckled, “I didn’t expect you would say something like that.”

Thea removed her hands and she had a disgruntled face, “10 years of basically off the grid will mess with your social skills. Though, I haven’t considered myself to be particularly charismatic.”

Wilbur chuckled and took a sip of his remaining tea. Thea lowered her hands, about to speak when the tell-tale sign of Tommy yelling was heard.

“THEA!”

The aforementioned person stood up in her chair in a panic, eyes wide and body stiff with attention. She looked to the stairway and so did Wilbur. Tommy and Tubbo barreled down the stairway, holding her sketchbook in hand. They ran up to her and held out the open pages.

“I didn’t know you could draw!”

Thea relaxed, giving a huge sigh of relief and fell back into her chair. She had a hand on her face as she gave a nervous laughter. “Don’t scare me like that, I thought the worst-“

“Yeah, yeah-“ cut in Tommy before placing the sketchbook down on her table and flipped it with Tubbo and Wilbur looking with interest. “These are so pog, why don’t you show them more?!”

“Tommy, I will say this again and again. I literally woke up after god knows how long, I had other priorities. I haven’t exactly had time to paint either.”

“If we win the election, will you draw portraits of Wilbur and I?!”

Wilbur placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, scolding him. “Tommy, you can’t just ask her to-“

“Sure.”

They all looked at Thea who had a thoughtful look on her face, her arms crossed and back leaning against the chair. She had a thoughtful expression before she smiled at them. “But don’t get your hopes up though. It’s been years-“

“Wait, really?” gaped Wilbur.

Thea shrugged. “On any other circumstances, no. But, it has been years since I’ve properly drawn anything. At the end of it, it would be a great exercise and practice. Not to mention,” her eyes softened. “It’ll help solidify the fact that I’ve met people and interacted with them. That I was here.”

Wilbur looked at her with surprise as Tommy cheered. Tubbo tried to ask if he was included too which Thea confirmed that he too would be included. The two boys were chattering and bouncing off ideas to Thea who hummed and gave her honest opinions. Reminding them not to get too attached.

Wilbur had a small feeling of warmth in his chest and he didn’t know why. He was about to pull Tommy and Tubbo away for over-staying her hospitality when there was a large growl.

Everyone turned to Wilbur, whose ears turned red and Tommy gawfed, ready to make fun of the president when his own stomach betrayed him. It was Tommy’s turn for his ears to turn red and Tubbo was about to laugh and it started a domino effect.

Thea choked a bit before she let out a laugh, wheezing and everyone turned to her as she was slamming her hand on the table and knee, before keeling over and continued to laugh. They all watched in awe and concern as the girl continued to laugh and fall onto the ground, holding her stomach.

“What are the odds- HOLY COW” choked out Thea in laughter as she struggled to get back on her feet. “I…the ODDS!”

Tommy gawked at her and started to protest. “Hey, hey, stop laughing!-“

Thea snorted as she shakily made her way to the kitchen. “I…I’m going to get… *SNORT* Just sit down, I got it-“ she continued to laugh, forcing herself to stop as she slammed her head against the wall to force herself to stop.

Tubbo giggled before he went to help Thea who was wobbling due to the lack of oxygen.

Wilbur ran a hand over his neck bashfully as Tommy groaned, muttering to himself. Soon, they were all gathered around the table as plates of food were offered. They all dug into the soup, bread, and meats that were offered.

All three of them dug into their food and Thea couldn’t help feel that her suspicions were right on that they weren’t really taking care of themselves. She absently mindedly noted to keep her food stores stocked in case these shared meals were going to be frequent.

As dinner was wrapped up, Thea asked Tommy and Tubbo to help feed her wolves and check on the farm. The two eagerly dashed away from escaping dish washing duties. Wilbur rolled up his sleeves and politely helped Thea clean up the table and take them to the kitchen.

Thea washed the dishes after thanking Wilbur, offering him another cup of tea. The man leaned against the nearest window seat, watching outside where he saw Tommy and Tubbo running around outside, partly doing Thea’s request while also playing. Fenrir and Lupa accompanying them.

Everything was peaceful and Wilbur didn’t know when he last felt so close to contentment. At peace. His eyes were tired and he quietly realized he wasn’t taking care of himself.

He sipped his tea when he heard a soft melody. His ears prickled at the noise, his musician side of him instantly intrigued.

He found his legs walking quietly towards the source of the music and over the corner, he saw and heard Thea singing. It wasn’t a full song nor was it perfect. It was a mixture of singing of lyrics and hums when she didn’t remember it. Her voice cracked every so often but Wilbur knew those were from the lack of warm-up.

Wilbur found himself drifting off, eyes closing to focus on the singing and then there was peace for a moment.

Thea had finished washing up and walked out of the kitchen, drying her hands as she did. She went to check on Wilbur, half-expecting him to have walked back to L’manburg with the boys.

Instead, she saw Wilbur slumped against the nearest place. She stiffened and checked on him, noticing his eyes were closed, with soft breaths rhythmically. The teacup loosely wrapped in his hands that threatened to spill if any more loose.

She stared at Wilbur, bewildered on how he was sleeping there before she thought what to do next. Waking him up was definitely out of the question, remembering how tired he was, and begun to think if she could move him.

She looked at her hands, flexing them as if it would tell her how strong she was.

A moment and two passed before she took in a deep breath and further rolled her sleeve up. She bent down and took the cup away, moving it to the side somewhere before slipping her hands under him.

She paused, readying herself, before slowly but surely lifted Wilbur. He was much, much longer then she was, so she had to balance him while her arms strained. She held him up for a moment, seeing if he would wake up but the soft snores reassured her.

Sighing in her mind, Thea walked to the stairway, just as Tommy and Tubbo had come in. They looked at her bewildered, mouths wide open with shock. She ignored them, figuring they would follow her or stay there. She didn’t care as she had bigger problems.

She reached the bedroom floor, noting the green and red beds already there with her pink one. She went to her pink bed, carefully depositing Wilbur into it and drew the blanket, tucking him. The person now occupying her bed was unaware and undisturbed. If anything, he snuggled further, sighing in content.

Thea smiled and had her hands on her hips, taking a moment to breathe. She could lift someone to bed, but barely.

She turned to the stairway to talk with Tommy and Tubbo, but saw their heads peeking out of the stairway. She rose an eyebrow but gestured to their beds, hoping they got her question.

They all nodded and quietly but quickly made their way to their beds, taking off their outer clothes and armor before slipping in. Thea hummed, checking on them if they were settled (while absentmindedly tucking them in further and patting their heads) before closing her home.

When she was sure the place was secure, her wolves followed her as she took off her armour and placed a blue bed near the others and slipped into bed. Her wolves cuddled around her as she sighed, eyes heavy with sleep.

She listened to the room, hearing Tubbo and Tommy’s breathes starting to settle and Wilbur’s soft snoring. Thea closed her eyes, feeling sleep pull her in. Before she let the darkness claim her, she spoke.

“Good night, sweet dreams.”

The boys muttered back quietly and Thea fell asleep, the darkness no longer silent but simply, quiet.

<Next Chapter>

[elizabear]

body language will do the trick

OK, so I know this is going to be fully AU in about five seconds when The Falcon and the Winter Soldier airs, but those couples counseling scenes in the trailer got me WAY TOO EXCITED and I really couldn't help myself.

Title: body language will do the trick

Rating: Explicit

Category: M/M

Relationship: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes (background Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff)

Additional tags: frenemies to lovers, coworkers to lovers, couples counseling, because sam and bucky can’t stop flirting at work, post-avengers endgame, but it’s au because, steve rogers isn’t old, and natasha romanoff lives, captain america sam wilson, shield agent bucky barnes, past steve rogers/bucky barnes, but it’s minor, bucky and sam fall in love, but COMPETITIVELY, oral sex, anal sex, tender railing, idiots in love, praise kink

Words: 12,598

Link to AO3: here

Summary:

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

Bucky Barnes is pretty sure that these counseling sessions—supposedly for Bucky and Sam’s “interpersonal issues”—are Director Fury’s revenge for that whole fake assassination situation. Which, to be fair to Fury, came about as the result of Bucky’s very real assassination attempt, even if the subsequent “assassination” was fake, so Bucky can’t exactly blame Fury there. What Bucky doesn’t understand is why their possibly-fake counselor—is she a real counselor, or just another one of Fury’s spies?—chooses to conduct her “therapy” sessions in the unlikely and frankly suspicious location of an underground bunker.

Dr. Carson’s therapy bunker is probably just a temporary location, since usable office facilities with running water and electricity are still pretty limited after the Blip, but Bucky was definitely under the impression that modern American therapists’ offices were supposed to be more soothing than this. He’d expected a bland but tasteful space filled with a cushy sofa and watercolor paintings and the calming sounds of nature recordings. Instead, Bucky and Sam are sitting in uncomfortable chairs in a dim room with bare cement walls and unflattering fluorescent lighting. Is Fury even trying to sell this fake counseling op?

Bucky and Sam’s counselor/interrogator is most definitely hostile. Although Dr. Carson looks lovely in her delicate green silk blouse and expensive silk scarf, her expression is stern and sour. She’s styled her glossy dark hair neatly, in gentle waves that summon a distant memory of the way women used to wear their hair in the 1940s, and Bucky wonders if this is Dr. Carson’s authentic style or if it’s just part of another SHIELD spy game, meant to trick or manipulate Bucky into confiding in Dr. Carson because she looks familiar and nonthreatening.

Bucky considers it an insult to the memory of Peggy Carter if Fury thinks he could’ve worked with Carter for two years in the SSR and still underestimate a woman just because she has nice hair and a pretty outfit.

Also, if Dr. Carson’s trying to lull Bucky into a false sense of security, why is she doing it in this weird basement?

Honestly this whole counseling thing really does seem like it’s secretly just a poorly planned interrogation.

Like right now. Dr. Carson asks, “Are you having a staring contest?” and Bucky isn’t going to disclose valuable intel by admitting that while Sam is definitely having a staring contest with him, Bucky is just using this as an excuse to look into Sam’s eyes, which are warm and brown and make Bucky feel all sorts of confusing things. Bucky is trained to resist interrogation, and that piece of information definitely falls under the category of “unexpected and alarming potential weaknesses.”

Also Bucky’s still sort of figuring out how he feels about Sam’s whole eye and face and shoulder situation, so the staring contest is actually a pretty great cover for whatever the fuck is really going on with him. Half of successfully surviving an interrogation is letting your captors fill in the blanks themselves and then pretending like their waterboarding is the worst thing you’ve ever endured.

Unfortunately, while Bucky is congratulating himself on successfully maintaining operations security—and winning their staring contest, no reason he can’t do both at once—Dr. Carson seems to reach her limit for the amount of shit she’s willing to endure from them today.

“You’re not taking this seriously.” Dr. Carson shoots them with a hard glare. “I’m giving you a five minute break, and if you’re not ready to open up and work on your communication and compatibility issues, I’m going to have to advise Fury to put you both on leave.”

Bucky’s fine with being put on leave, and he’s fully prepared to wait out SHIELD, Fury, and Dr. Carson. It took HYDRA fifteen years to break him down enough to send him out on missions, and no matter how much they tortured him Bucky didn’t shed so much as a single tear until they showed him newspaper headlines about what a bad pilot Steve turned out to be.

Also, Bucky’s not entirely sure that he’s not actually immortal, so he figures his patience will probably far outlast Fury’s determination to punish him for shooting him a few times when he didn’t even die. Actually, now that Bucky thinks about it, Fury’s probably less mad about the whole fake assassination thing than he is about Steve forcing him to offer Bucky a job and then grit out the most begrudging apology Bucky has ever heard in his life for SHIELDRA holding Bucky hostage as a brainwashed assassin while Fury was the Director of SHIELD. Right in front of Captain Marvel, too, Fury’s favorite Avenger, who had looked very disappointed in him. Apparently Danvers had her own history as a superpowered amnesiac brainwashed into working for the bad guys? Bucky’s unclear on the details, but when Danvers’s mouth tightened and her head shook in dismay, Nick Fury’s shoulders had slumped like a chastened schoolboy.

God, Steve is such a dick sometimes. Bucky loves him so much.

Dr. Carson’s high heels make clipped little clicking noises that speak volumes about her frustration with them as she strides purposefully out of the room. As soon as she closes the door, so firmly that Bucky can just tell that she had to have put conscious, controlled effort into not slamming it behind her, Bucky turns to Sam with a satisfied grin.

“Well, I think we’re doing great,” Bucky says. “SHIELD’s going to have to work a lot harder to get any real intel out of us, and I was definitely promised that they wouldn’t be using any drugs or brainwashing techniques this time so I think we’re going to nail this whole interrogation.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “This is therapy, man, not an interrogation. We’re supposed to be, like, opening up and becoming a better team.”

“Yeah, well, if this is real therapy then where are the goats?” Bucky says, raising an eyebrow toward the most likely location of the nearest camera as if to say gotcha, Fury, your goatless fake therapy interrogation tactic isn’t fooling me.

“I’m sorry, goats? Why would there be goats?”

Bucky leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. “I’m just saying, in Wakanda I always got to hang out with animals when I did therapy. And look how great that turned out! I hardly ever kill anyone anymore, and when I do it’s on purpose because I decided to. Anyway, I really feel like this is all just a plot by SHIELD to find out why we—”

Bucky and Sam bicker for a while about whether or not this is real therapy until they’re interrupted by Dr. Carson’s return, her face looking a little damp now, like maybe she spent her time away from them splashing water on it and doing some deep breathing exercises in the bathroom.

“OK,” says Dr. Carson, visibly relaxing her spine. “We’re going to take a new approach. Have you heard of the five love languages?”

Sam’s eyes widen in horror. “No, we are not doing the five love languages.”

Bucky hasn’t heard of the five love languages, but he can tell from the look on Sam’s face that they definitely don’t want to do this, and Bucky’s pretty good at improvising when he needs to. “Oh, you know, I think HYDRA already implanted the five love languages in my brain when they were doing the rest of the Romance languages. So we can just skip those, I already know them.”

Bucky offers Dr. Carson his blandest and most innocent smile, the same one that sometimes worked on Sister Mary Angela back at old St. Charles Borromeo, but Dr. Carson’s face remains as stony and unmoved as the church itself, still standing in Brooklyn Heights in the year of our Lord 2023. Instead she says, “I think we need to take a couples therapy approach.”

“Couples therapy,” Sam repeats, sinking lower in his chair. Bucky winces as Sam’s knee starts to crush his balls.

“According to this file,” Dr. Carson says, opening it up to read aloud, “the two of you are here because your colleagues have complained about your, quote, romantically-charged bickering, your constant flirting, and your unnecessarily sexual sparring.”

Dr. Carson punctuates these damning statements with some truly savage air quotes.

“Listen, when I slap Sam’s bare ass in the locker room after a good sparring session it’s with purely collegial respect for a worthy opponent,” Bucky says, folding his arms across his chest. “I only ever treat Sam with the same level of professional respect I give Steve and Natasha.”

Sam nods in support. “Steve and Natasha never have a problem getting sweaty and physical with us, and I’ve personally witnessed Steve and Natasha slap Bucky’s ass dozens of times.”

Dr. Carson raises a single judgmental eyebrow. “Don’t you think there might be a reason why Fury’s banned the four of you from using the gym at the same time?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “The other SHIELD agents get intimidated by Sam’s shredded abs and Steve’s and my super strength. Plus everyone’s scared of Natasha.”

Dr. Carson closes her eyes and visibly counts to ten. Bucky can see her mouth forming the words.

“All right, we’re just going to move on here, because I’m really only able to deal with just the one dysfunctional relationship at a time.” Dr. Carson passes them some worksheets and pencils. “I want you to fill these out, honestly, and then hand them back to me when you’re done.”

Bucky reads over the worksheets, which are filled with questions like, “Do you like it more when your partner reacts positively to something you’ve accomplished or when they do something for you that you know they don’t particularly enjoy?” There are a lot of questions about hugging, and holding hands, and Bucky gets distracted trying to picture holding hands with Sam, who has big hands, strong and capable and—

“Stop trying to copy my answers,” Sam says, when he notices Bucky glancing over at the way Sam grips his pen as he fills out his worksheet. Sam shoves his knee harder into Bucky’s crotch and Bucky stifles a gasp.

“I’m not!”

“Bucky, stop cheating.” Dr. Carson presses her lips together in a severe frown.

Bucky scowls and scooches his chair back several inches. It makes a loud scraping sound as it drags against the cement floor. But before going back to filling out his form, Bucky gives Sam’s ankle a sharp kick for getting him in trouble with Dr. Carson, and the two of them engage in a brief but brutal silent kicking war below the front of the desk where Dr. Carson can’t see.

When Bucky and Sam finish their kicking war and their quizzes, they hand their worksheets back to Dr. Carson for grading and rub their shins as they wait.

“Bucky, your primary love language is words of affirmation, and your secondary love language is physical touch,” Dr. Carson announces. “And Sam, your primary love language is acts of service, while your secondary love language is quality time.”

Bucky frowns. On the one hand, he feels like he’s received some pretty valuable intel about Sam that he could use to his benefit. But on the other hand, he’s probably given up some valuable intel of his own. He wishes there hadn’t been so many questions that made him think about hugging and touching Sam—somehow those made him so distracted that he forgot to respond with lies.

Bucky’s stomach knots up a bit at the thought of Sam learning his potential weaknesses, but really, how much of a psyop could Sam possibly launch with the results from a couples counseling questionnaire? (Natasha could probably execute a successful psyop based on the information from a Buzzfeed quiz meant to reveal your “celebrity mom,” so Bucky really hopes Sam doesn’t talk to Natasha about this.)

“Your homework is to try to learn to speak each other’s language.” Dr. Carson stands up and walks around the desk to touch Bucky’s shoulder. “Good job today, Bucky.”

Bucky smiles, and the knot in his stomach releases a bit. He is so nailing this therapy thing, he knew he’d be better at it than Sam.

Dr. Carson helps Sam back into his coat as she ushers them toward the door, and Bucky’s pretty sure she’s meant to be modeling an act of service except that mostly it seems like she’s just trying to rush them out of the office.

“See you next week.” Dr. Carson smiles stiffly, like she is not at all looking forward to seeing them next week. Her expression is full of determined professionalism right up until the click of the door latch, and then Bucky hears a dull thudding noise that is pretty unmistakably the sound of Dr. Carson hitting her head against the doorframe.

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

***

They’re on a mission together the next day, battling some Doombots in New Jersey, and wow is Sam committed to this whole words of affirmation thing.

When Bucky deflects a punch aimed straight for Sam’s head with his vibranium arm, Sam whistles and says, “Nice save, man, you’re killing it today.” Warmth rises up in Bucky’s chest at Sam’s praise, and Bucky is filled with panic and dismay when he realizes that the fight to squash it back down is honestly more taxing than their battle against Doombots. There’s absolutely no reason Bucky should be having such a physical reaction to basic battle camaraderie.

When Bucky stretches his leg up above his head to nail one of the bots with a vicious kick, Sam smirks and gives him a distinct how-you-doing sort of nod. “That was—seriously hot, man. Have you been doing yoga or something?”

So apparently Sam is choosing to interpret words of affirmation as “wild flirtation,” and Bucky’s cheeks are choosing to betray him by radiating at Sam’s attention. Bucky knows there’s a flush spreading down his neck, and he’s hoping Sam will attribute it to exertion from the fight, because there’s no way Bucky can let Sam know that Sam’s sort of winning at their therapy homework—not when Bucky’s entire mental health journey and, like, the honor of the Wakandan animal-assisted therapy program is at stake.

But after they board the Quinjet and set the autopilot on a course back to New York, Sam gives Bucky a slow up-and-down perusal with his eyes, and Bucky feels Sam’s gaze like a physical touch. “You look really good after a fight, Buck. That messed up hair and pretty pink blush are giving me all kinds of ideas.”

Bucky’s cock twitches at that, and huh. Bucky blinks and looks down at his crotch.

So that’s working again.

A dirty smirk spreads across Sam’s face, like maybe Sam knows exactly what just happened inside Bucky’s pants, and fuck, this whole situation is spiraling rapidly out of Bucky’s control. Like, yeah, Bucky kept Sam from getting a pretty gnarly concussion, and that was probably an act of service, right? But it’s pretty clear, to both of them, that Sam is winning this competition, and Bucky is not about to go down without a fight.

Which is—an idea.

Bucky drops to his knees in front of Sam and bites his lip in a way that he knows, instinctively, will make him look hot. Sam inhales sharply in response, and Bucky reaches up to grasp Sam by the hips before he can take a step backwards. The material of Sam’s uniform bunches up and shifts under Bucky’s hands, and fuck, Bucky’s cock is aching now, throbbing and filling up in his tight uniform pants. Bucky forgot he could feel so good.

“What are you doing,” Sam protests in a half-assed sort of way.

“Servicing you,” Bucky replies with a wicked grin, sliding Sam’s zipper down slowly over his thickening cock. Bucky can’t remember if he’s done this before, but the way his mouth waters and his throat aches in anticipation makes him feel pretty fucking confident about how this is going to go down.

But before Bucky can pull Sam’s cock out of his briefs, Sam slides his fingers into Bucky’s hair and tips his head gently backward, using his other hand to tilt Bucky’s chin up to look into Sam’s face. Sam’s pretty brown eyes are already darkening with arousal, but his expression is serious.

“You don’t have to suck my dick for therapy, man.”

Bucky huffs. “Sam, this is the first time my dick’s been hard since 1945. Do you know how many times Steve’s let me watch him jerk off trying to heIp me get hard again? I am definitely not doing this only to win at therapy, pal.”

Sam’s hands freeze in Bucky’s hair and his cock swells visibly in his briefs. “I’m sorry, Steve let you do what now? Dude, I thought Steve was straight.”

“Oh, he’s definitely, like, straight-ish,” Bucky assures Sam, with a little so-so wave of his hand that hopefully conveys the correct amount of ambiguity there. “He’s mostly just a really great friend.”

Sam’s eyes close for a long moment, and then Bucky’s scalp stings when Sam clenches his fist in Bucky’s hair and pulls. “Jesus,” mutters Sam, his voice gruff and husky. “Yeah, OK, baby. Go ahead and suck my dick.”

Bucky’s heart pounds as he pulls Sam’s cock out of his briefs and licks a wet stripe up the length of it, groaning at the feel of Sam’s skin under his tongue. Sam tastes salty with sweat, and his scent is musky and thick after their fight with the Doombots. Bucky teases him for a while, the way he’s seen people do in porn, trailing wet kisses along the shaft and mouthing at the head, and Sam lets out a ragged moan when Bucky’s mouth finally engulfs him. Bucky’s feeling pretty cocky about this, loves the rush of power he feels as Sam’s hips twitch and jerk to keep from thrusting into Bucky’s mouth—but then Sam fucking escalates shit, because Sam is an asshole.

“Christ, you feel good,” Sam murmurs, reaching down to rub his thumb against Bucky’s mouth, stretched wide around Sam’s cock. “You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth.”

And then Bucky’s the one moaning, eyelids fluttering shut and heat coursing down his spine at the sound of Sam’s husky voice. Bucky should have expected Sam to counter his act of service with more words of affirmation, but somehow he wasn’t prepared for the unbearable ache he’d feel at Sam’s dirty talk. Bucky feels inexperienced, outclassed at this sort of sexual warfare, and the only way he can retaliate is by sinking as far down on Sam’s cock as his throat will allow him. He reaches up to grab Sam’s hips, urging him to fuck his mouth, and then he hums a little inside his head to try to tune out the sound of Sam’s praise.

“Fuck,” says Sam. “God, that’s it, baby. You take it so well, Buck. So fucking good for me.”

Bucky whines, his jaw aching, eyes filling with tears as Sam’s cock stretches his mouth open. Sam keeps offering him filthy praise as he slides his mouth up and down Sam’s thick cock, and Bucky doesn’t know why this is doing it for him when all of Steve’s pale skin and strong thighs and big dick couldn’t, but maybe seventy years of torture and captivity have left Bucky with a few new kinks. Or maybe Bucky’s just healing or whatever. Bucky honestly doesn’t care, as long as Sam keeps letting him fill his throat with Sam’s dick.

Sam’s voice is rough when he says, “God, you fucking love it, don’t you,” and Bucky pulls off Sam’s cock just long enough to nod eagerly and gasp for air before diving back in. “Take your dick out, baby. I want you to come sucking my cock.”

Bucky’s rhythm stutters at that, his hand reaching down to pull his cock out of his uniform pants. He wants to be so fucking good for Sam, wants to come just how Sam says, wants Sam to keep telling him how good he looks, how much he loves fucking Bucky’s mouth, how much he likes giving it to him.

Sam’s praise grows hotter and filthier as he gets closer, and Bucky whimpers as he feels his own orgasm approaching. God, he hasn’t come in so long, hasn’t felt that hot rush and that familiar ache in his balls in forever and he wants it, wants to come, he just needs—

“Come on, baby, come for me, I know you can do it, just keep sucking my cock, God, you look so good, baby, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

And Bucky spirals over the edge, cock pulsing and spilling over his fist. He lets out a choked moan around Sam’s dick before his mouth is flooded with bitter, salty fluid. And then Bucky feels so fucking full, like he could drown happily in Sam’s smell and his taste and his fucking words of affirmation.

Fuck.

Bucky definitely did not win that round.

***

The whole blow job thing was an outstanding idea, really, one of Bucky’s best. But fuck, he did not anticipate Sam using that as an opportunity to completely turn the tables and affirm the shit out of him. Bucky can’t help but privately acknowledge to himself that Sam is completely winning at love languages so far.

They’re in counseling the next week, still in Dr. Carson’s depressing therapy bunker, and honestly, Bucky can’t imagine that this setting is good for, like, anybody’s mental health. His therapy in Wakanda always took place outdoors, under the warm African sun, surrounded by the wild, earthy smells of mud and animals and Lake Turkana. It made him feel open and free and connected to nature or whatever. It was peaceful.

Therapy at SHIELD is not very peaceful, especially because Dr. Carson clearly hates them, and she isn’t at all impressed by what Bucky considers some very impressive progress by them. Bucky and Sam are getting along.

“So,” Dr. Carson begins, apparently deciding to just start right off with more hurtful accusations from their colleagues, “according to Carl from the gun range, the two of you have been subjecting your coworkers to your, quote, uncomfortable bickering-slash-foreplay, and Maria Hill reports that you’re still, quote, cluttering up comms during missions with the most embarrassing flirting I have ever heard, I hate it so much.”

Dr. Carson’s air quotes are fucking vicious.

Despite the fact that they’ve only just started their session, Dr. Carson looks tense and aggravated already. She’s wearing another pretty silk blouse today, but her earrings don’t seem to match and it looks like she didn’t bother to curl her hair today. Maybe she just realized that Bucky wasn’t fooled by those forties waves?

Also, even though it’s Friday, Dr. Carson’s giving off a very Monday sort of vibe.

“Sam and I are working on it, OK?” Bucky says, with a mulish set to his jaw. “Obviously I’m doing my best here, but it’s hard to do therapy in a cement basement that gives me flashbacks to 1970s HYDRA facilities where I was tortured. And there aren’t even any pets at all to comfort me. Didn’t you receive the note from my Wakandan therapist stating that I require animals during therapy?”

A blood vessel in Dr. Carson’s forehead throbs, and she raises her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I’ll see if I can get us a room upstairs for our next session, but I’m telling you for the last time that we don’t have any therapy goats.”

“Well, I don’t have any issues doing therapy without goats,” Sam says, like the worst sort of teacher’s pet. God, Sam’s teachers probably loved his charming smile and his quick wit and his stupid handsome face. “Maybe Bucky is using the goats as an emotional crutch.”

“Listen, goat therapy works, OK?” Bucky counts out on his fingers as he lists the many examples of real progress he’s made since his time as a goat farmer in Wakanda. “I started off as an amnesiac brainwashed assassin, and now I have a steady job, a haircut, an apartment leased under my own shell companies, and I only kill people when I want to kill people now. And I wash my hair regularly. And if I don’t wash my hair, I use dry shampoo. And I don’t turn into a mindless killing machine when people speak Russian at me.”

“Dude,” Sam says.

“Anyway, it’s fine if you’re not as good at therapy as me.”

“Not as—not as good at therapy as you? Man, I am a certified peer specialist. I was so good at my own therapy that they let me give other people therapy,” Sam says, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Yeah, in America, where they’re not even familiar with things like advanced goat therapy.” Bucky clucks his tongue and shakes his head. “Did you even keep up with your continuing education requirements while you were fugitives with Steve?”

Sam sinks lower in his seat and frowns. “No. But speaking of Steve,” Sam says, perking up a bit as he follows a new thread of argument. “Whose PTSD recovery was so complete and inspirational that Steve Rogers trusted them with the responsibility of carrying the Captain America shield, hm?”

“Listen, Steve is reckless as shit and he’s so irresponsible with that shield that he’s constantly losing it in rivers and getting it broken by alien supervillains,” Bucky points out. “I’m so recovered that the king of an entire country, a man so responsible that they put him in charge of running literally everything in the most advanced nation on the planet, trusted me with a prosthetic arm powerful enough to crush the skull of an ordinary man with a single blow. Probably even his skull, and he’s been enhanced by some weird plant that makes him even stronger than Steve.”

“Yeah, well, I’m so recovered that—”

Dr. Carson interrupts them here, pinching the bridge of her nose. “OK, listen, I think there’s actually something pretty interesting here in how you each relate your recovery to your ability to wield weapons. Why don’t we stop bickering and discuss that a little further?”

“Yeah, OK,” Bucky mumbles.

Sam sighs heavily. “Fine.”

***

So the blow job thing is working perfectly—like, so perfectly, God, Sam’s dick is amazing—except for the fact that Sam is able to talk the entire time. Words of affirmation spill from Sam’s pretty lips every time Bucky swallows his cock, and Bucky is still fucking losing the love languages competition.

It’s time to create a Pinterest strategy board to figure this thing out.

Bucky is a visual planner, and he believes in tactical flexibility. He might not remember a lot about sex, but there’s tons of porn on the Internet. He just needs to find a couple of ways to service Sam while Sam’s mouth is otherwise occupied. How hard could that be?

After a lot of research and the creation of several Pinterest mood boards, Bucky calls Steve down the hall to his apartment to help him out. They all live in the same building since it has the best security in the city—and Bucky and Natasha are very particular about security—and it makes sense for the four of them to basically live together when they already spend all their time together. When Steve arrives, they head right to Bucky’s bedroom, get undressed, and survey the porn board on Bucky’s laptop.

“OK, so what about sixty-nine,” Steve suggests. “Let’s try that.”

They get themselves into position, mouths hovering over each other’s flaccid dicks like totally normal best friends.

“See, I feel like this works, but is it really servicing Sam if he’s, like, servicing me at the same time?” Bucky flops over onto his back in frustration and worries at his lower lip with his teeth.

Steve nods and tilts his head in thought. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Depending on the grading rubric, the two acts might cancel each other out. How about rimming?”

“I feel like rimming is a great idea, and I definitely want to do that, but how do I shut him up while I do it?”

Steve frowns. “Can you reach up and cover his mouth with your hand? Hold on, let me bend over and we’ll see.” Steve gets on his hands and knees, tilting his ass up for Bucky to simulate a rim job.

“You know, your ass really is kind of amazing.” Bucky takes a moment to admire the jewel of Howard Stark’s empire. “I mean, it was cute as hell when you were little too, but Scott Lang definitely wasn’t wrong in that podcast episode about which superhero has America’s ass. Don’t tell Sam I said that, by the way.”

“Thanks, pal,” Steve says, flashing Bucky a quick grin. “Your ass is great too, Sam’s a lucky guy. Now bend over and pretend to rim me.”

Bucky leans down and uses his hand to cover Steve’s exposed hole, then presses his mouth against the back of his hand to simulate a rim job. He reaches forward with his other arm to see if he can put his vibranium hand over Steve’s mouth. He could—maybe? If he releases the catch on his shoulder?

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Bucky says with a frown. “Here, maybe try getting on your back and holding onto your legs?”

“Like this?” Steve asks, shifting gamely into position. Bucky folds him over and pretends to rim him while covering Steve’s mouth, which—works, actually. And this is probably the most erotic scene Bucky’s ever been a part of—Steve really does look incredible like this—so it’s kind of a shame that it does absolutely nothing whatsoever for Bucky’s dick.

Except then Bucky pictures Sam in Steve’s position, bent over and whining under Bucky’s vibranium hand, and Bucky’s cock gives a little twitch. Fuck.

Bucky sighs and releases Steve with a short nod. “Not bad, pal. I think this one’s gonna work. Let’s write it down.”

They test out a few more positions, taking careful notes on the comfort and degree of mouth coverage of each one. Bucky finds a few more pictures to add to his Pinterest board, and they sort through every image and assign them to the correct position number. Then Bucky and Steve print off their pictures and tape them to Bucky’s wall for inspiration, mapping out a sequence of actions that will lead to orgasms for both Sam and Bucky with a minimum amount of talking on Sam’s part.

Which is a shame, really. Sam’s dirty talk really does it for Bucky.

Still nude, Bucky and Steve stand in front of the vision board and assess the plan.

“I think position two is really going to work,” Steve says, stroking his chin, and Bucky’s brain flashes back to an image of Steve in pretty much this exact pose, assessing a map of HYDRA facilities in Western Europe with no less gravity and passion. God, Steve Rogers is a great fucking friend. “And if you really want to service the guy, I mean, you’ve already got him all loose and open. You might as well give him your dick too, right?”

Bucky nods in agreement. “Yeah, I mean, as long as I keep kissing him, he won’t be able to affirm me too much. I think this really is the winning scenario.”

“Great teamwork, pal,” Steve says, slapping Bucky’s bare ass. “This was fun! Just like the old days.”

Bucky smiles wistfully. “Yeah, there’s nothing like planning an op with The Man With the Plan. Hey, you want to grab dinner after this?”

“Nah,” Steve says, too-casually, angling his pelvis away from Bucky as he pulls his pants back on. “I think I’m gonna go see if Natasha’s busy.”

Bucky grins. “Give her my best.”

“Will do. Love you, pal,” Steve says, giving Bucky a quick kiss before he leaves.

Steve doesn’t bother putting a shirt on before he goes, and Bucky can hear him whistling cheerfully all the way down to Nat’s apartment.

***

Steve and Bucky’s plan was great, so naturally it goes to shit as soon as Sam gets involved.

Bucky’s sucking Sam’s dick, which OK, yeah, wasn’t technically in the plan, but God, Sam’s got such a great dick. How far behind can Bucky really fall in the standings from just one blow job?

“Your mouth feels so fucking good, baby,” Sam says, sliding his long fingers through Bucky’s hair—which Bucky washed before he came over, because he is killing it as a recovered assassin and also because this afternoon Sam grabbed his hips and leaned in, breath hot against Bucky’s ear, and murmured how much he wants to smell Bucky’s shampoo on his pillows tomorrow morning.

Which was both smooth as hell and very convincing. Bucky immediately bought like three more bottles of that shit and accepted Sam’s invitation over to his apartment that night.

So now they’re in Sam’s apartment, and Bucky’s sliding his mouth along Sam’s cock, and Sam’s telling him how much he loves the way Bucky sucks him, loves the way Bucky’s pretty face looks with Sam’s cock in his mouth, lips slick with spit and tears leaking out of his eyes. And then Sam says—

“Are you gonna let me fuck you tonight, baby? Gonna let me see how well you take it?”

And before Bucky knows it, he’s moaning around Sam’s cock and nodding his head, and Sam’s pulling a condom and lube out of the side drawer, and then Bucky’s face down on Sam’s bed, gasping and clenching around Sam’s long fingers.

When Sam finally turns him over and pushes inside him, Bucky feels his brain just—fully vacate his skull. Pleasure buzzes up and down Bucky’s spine like an electric current, and he’s only barely conscious of the wet-sounding gasp that comes out of his mouth when Sam finally slides all the way home.

Sam gives it to him slow and sweet, fucking into him at a dreamy, leisurely pace as Bucky grabs fistfuls of Sam’s sheets and scrabbles at any leverage he can get to try and push back against Sam’s cock. Bucky wants Sam to grab his hips and pound him hard, overwhelm him with stimulation and keep him from sinking under the gentle wave of that languid rhythm. It’s too intimate, too vulnerable, and Bucky’s chest is cracking wide open for Sam to look inside. He’s a little afraid of what Sam might see within him, but instead Sam’s expression is full of awe, his face open and tender as he runs a thumb over Bucky’s cheekbone.

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous, so fucking sweet for me.”

There’s a lot of eye contact after that, and romantic face touching, and Sam telling Bucky how much he loves the way he feels, loves the way he looks and smells and tastes. Warmth pools deep in Bucky’s gut, spreading through his veins like the burn of whiskey, until Bucky feels like he’s going to burst into flames around Sam’s cock. Instead he comes, long and hard and messy, all over his stomach.

Sam’s eyes are hot as he looks down at the sight of Bucky’s abs covered in pearly fluid, and then he slams his hips into Bucky three more times, hard, before groaning and collapsing on top of him.

Fuck, Bucky thinks.

He takes a few minutes to catch his breath, and then suppresses a half-hearted sigh when he realizes that he completely blew the plan. Like, yes, that was some fucking amazing sex, Sam gave him the dicking of a lifetime, but somehow Bucky ended up even further behind in the love language competition. How does Sam keep winning?

It’s too late now to offer another act of service. Even if Bucky could get it up again, Sam definitely couldn’t.

Shit.

But wait, what was Sam’s secondary love language? Quality time? Perfect.

Bucky rolls over to give Sam a few open-mouthed kisses on his shoulder. Sam is sweaty from exertion, and he tastes salty and amazing. God, Sam is the best.

“You mind if I stay the night, sweetheart?” Bucky murmurs.

Sam’s lips curve up in a soft and pleased smile. “Yeah, baby, I was hoping you would.”

“C’mere, you can be the little spoon,” Bucky says, reaching around Sam’s waist to reel him in, and Sam huffs out a surprised grunt and then a happy sigh when Bucky wraps his arms and leg around him.

They fall asleep within minutes, and it turns out Sam really was into the smell of Bucky on his pillows because they fuck again in the morning, and this time Bucky forgets to keep track of who’s winning at therapy homework.

***

They fuck constantly after that, which is amazing, but unfortunately Bucky is still staying in this game only by the skin of his teeth. Like, yes, Bucky is performing acts of service for Sam on the regular, but somehow Bucky finds his self-control dissolving like sugar melting into caramel when Sam spreads him out under his dirty mouth and his clever hands.

So now when Sam collapses on top of him at night, fucked out and shaking, Bucky nuzzles his face into the back of Sam’s neck and wraps his arm around him to pull him close. Bucky stays the night, every night, and at work he sticks to Sam more tightly than one of Steve Rogers’s t-shirts. But the more quality time Bucky offers Sam, the more acts of service Bucky ends up performing—which, sure, sounds like a plan that would put Bucky pretty solidly in the lead, except for how Bucky always ends up a sobbing, needy mess dripping onto Sam’s sheets while Sam smirks and tells him how good Bucky is for him.

They fight together even better now, in sync in a way that Bucky hasn’t felt since he worked with the Howling Commandos, and when they finish a skirmish they turn to each other, flushed and grinning, flying high on adrenaline and oxytocin and arousal. They kiss savagely, mouths wet and open, and they don’t care who hears them pant and groan over the comms.

“God, you were so fucking hot—”

“Sam, yes, god, please—”

Bucky and Sam have died and come back to life already this year and somehow they’re still bringing each other back to life. Bucky swaggers through SHIELD headquarters with champagne flowing through his veins, bright and bubbly, and Fury yells at them twice for passing dirty notes to each other during briefings. They’re obnoxious about it, obvious and messy and shameless, and Bucky’s pretty sure that Maria Hill is going to resign in protest if she has to work surveillance for even one more of their ops.

Somehow they’re generating even more complaints to HR than before.

***

Dr. Carson has finally managed to find them a room with a window for their counseling sessions. They’re on the fifth floor, and there’s not much of a view—just the brick wall of the building next to them—but sunlight streams in through the sheer curtains and highlights the cut ridges of Sam’s frankly incredible cheekbones. God, Sam’s so fucking handsome.

Bucky and Sam are grinning broadly, but Dr. Carson looks stressed out and irritated today, even though they just started the appointment. Her hair is stringy and a little greasy at the roots, and Bucky wonders if Dr. Carson knows about dry shampoo. He isn’t sure how to ask, or if it would be rude to offer her a few sprays from the travel bottle he keeps in one of the pockets of his tactical pants? She’s still wearing a nice silk blouse, but it looks like she’s buttoned it incorrectly, and the tail is hanging out of the top of her slacks.

Are those even slacks? They kind of look like yoga pants.

Privately, Bucky thinks that an outsider might be hard pressed to figure out which of them was supposed to be the mental patient here. Are Bucky and Sam actually driving this woman insane?

“So you’re sleeping together.” Dr. Carson’s tone is flat and dismayed. “You know this is against SHIELD employee regulations, don’t you?”

She taps her pen against their folders in agitation, and Bucky wonders if those folders are their actual permanent records. Does Bucky’s folder still have all of the notes from Sister Mary Angela about his “distracting” and “unnaturally close” relationship with Steve? God, Sister Mary Angela hated Steve.

Sam waves a careless hand and props his ankle up on his other knee. “We’re independent contractors, and Steve and Natasha made sure that our contracts didn’t include any kind of anti-fraternization policies. They were extremely thorough about it.”

Dr. Carson sighs heavily, and it looks like she’s doing literally everything in her power not to roll her eyes. Instead, she tips her head back and looks at the ceiling, probably hoping to roll her eyes where Bucky and Sam can’t see them. “Nevertheless, the two of you are still required to be discreet and professional when you’re at work. We’ve received complaints from several of your coworkers about your behavior in the last week. According to Carl, you’ve been bringing, quote, unwanted and uncomfortable sexual energy to the workplace.”

Bucky scoffs. He knows how to handle this sort of situation. “Listen, I didn’t lose my life fighting Nazis so that a little homoerotic banter and ass grabbing would get me in trouble at work. And anyway, this is how Captain America and I behaved at work back when we were fighting fascism and defending the free world—in the 1940s, even!—so I can’t imagine that somehow you’re just not allowed to give each other friendly hand jobs in closets in 2023. If anything, I should be able to give Sam a friendly hand job outside of a closet. Those are exactly the kinds of freedoms I fought and died for.”

Sam nods in support and says, “That’s a great point, Buck,” and Bucky feels warmth curling in his belly before he realizes, fuck, Sam’s doing it again, and right in front of Dr. Carson too. Jesus, Sam is so good at therapy. “And it sounds like Carl might be just a tad bit homophobic. Maybe we should be complaining to HR about him. You know, I didn’t serve during the long years of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell just to hear—”

“Carl is happily married to his male partner of thirty-seven years,” Dr. Carson states, clenching her jaw. Bucky has literally fought people to the death who look less bothered by his general existence. “Also, you didn’t actually die fighting Nazis, Agent Barnes.”

“It was a metaphorical death,” Bucky defends, because this is important to him. “The old Bucky Barnes died in that ravine. We went over it all in my therapy in Wakanda, the most scientifically advanced country in the world. What even are your credentials and where are your goats?”

“I have a Bachelor’s degree in psychology from Harvard and doctorates in clinical psychology and neuroscience from Oxford. I was a Rhodes scholar, I’ve received a MacArthur Fellowship for my work in PTSD and polytrauma in returning veterans, and I literally wrote the textbook for most Introduction to Psychology courses.”

Bucky waves his dismissive hand at this. “Yeah, well, Sam did eighty hours of coursework and an eighty hour practicum to become a certified peer counselor. Plus he has experiential knowledge, which is more important than book learning. Also, Sam isn’t HYDRA. Are you HYDRA?”

The wood in Dr. Carson’s pencil cracks a bit under her hand. “I’m not HYDRA.”

“But, like, would Nick Fury know if you were HYDRA?” Bucky presses.

“That’s an excellent point, baby, you’re killing it in therapy today.” Sam pats Bucky on the thigh and then leaves his hand there, bare inches away from Bucky’s cock, and Bucky bites the inside of his cheek to keep from moving his hips or making any noises. “Nick Fury would definitely not know if Dr. Carson were HYDRA, his Nazi-finding track record is, like, dismal at best. I vote that we suspend therapy until there’s been an independent investigation into whether or not Dr. Carson is HYDRA.”

“You can’t suspend therapy,” Dr. Carson says, her expression pinched. “These counseling sessions are mandatory.”

“Look, we’ll keep doing the love languages thing as a show of good faith, and once the investigation’s concluded we’ll come back so you can decide which one of us is winning at therapy,” Bucky says. “In the meantime just, like, prepare to have all of your secrets uncovered and all of your loved ones and ex-boyfriends questioned extensively about your most private and intimate memories.”

Dr. Carson covers her face with her hands. Is she trying to muffle a scream?

“For the last time, no one wins at therapy,” she grits out.

“I mean, I think I’m pretty obviously winning,” Sam says. Bucky tips his head in reluctant agreement. “Anyway, we’ll talk to Natasha and Steve about the HYDRA thing since they actually know how to find Nazis. If Steve and Nat clear you, then Bucky and I will agree to let you judge which one of us is winning the love languages competition. In the meantime, it would be nice if you could get some therapy pets for Bucky. He likes animals. Goats might be a bit unreasonable for downtown D.C., but I’m sure you could rustle up some cats or something, right?”

Bucky hums. “I like dogs better.’

“All right, cool. Dr. C, get us some dogs.” Sam raps two knuckles against the desk. “Bucky and I are going to go to the gym to work out a bit. Bucky’s shoulders are looking really good lately.”

“Sam!” Bucky hisses, squirming a bit in his seat. “Not in front of Dr. Carson!”

“Sorry, baby,” Sam says, holding out a hand to pull Bucky up out of his chair. “See you next week, Dr. C!”

***

It hasn’t exactly escaped Bucky’s notice that Natasha has been avoiding him ever since Bucky and Sam started their love languages competition, so when Bucky sees Steve walking alone down the hallway toward his office, he reaches out from the broom closet where he’s hiding and yanks Steve inside.

“Is Natasha helping Sam win the love languages competition?” Bucky hisses.

There’s no real reason that they need to have this conversation in a broom closet instead of Steve’s office, but Bucky’s feeling nostalgic today, and Steve doesn’t seem at all bothered to suddenly find himself in a broom closet with Bucky.

“I mean, probably?” Steve says with a shrug. “It seems only fair, since I’m helping you. Also her dirty talk has really leveled up lately, and that’s probably not a coincidence. Why, what’s Sam doing?”

“He’s, like, constantly flirting with me. And the touching! God, Steve, I’m horny all the time now. And you wouldn’t believe the things he says to me in bed! Do you know how hard it is to concentrate on all the sex routines you and I’ve choreographed when Sam’s telling me how pretty I look with his cock in my mouth?”

“Natasha is definitely helping him then—she says that to me all the time when she’s using her strap on,” Steve says, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “Are you sure you can’t keep it together enough to service him without getting distracted by his words of affirmation?”

“Yes,” Bucky says, his cheeks growing hot. “You have no idea, Steve, like Sam just gets so filthy. I know my brain’s been fried like an egg and I don’t actually remember a lot about sex, but I don’t think people talked like this in the ‘40s, right?”

“I mean, you and I shared a bedroom in an apartment with paper thin walls and then spent a few years in a warzone. There’s not much opportunity for dirty talk when you’re just doing your best to get off without waking anybody up,” Steve says. “But that does give me an idea. Sam’s secondary love language is quality time, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“So date him! You may not have the sexual repertoire of someone who’s watched hundreds of hours of modern porn or even someone who remembers much about having sex before like three weeks ago, but you do know how to pull off a good old-fashioned wooing.”

Bucky’s forehead wrinkles. “Do I, though? Do I still know how to pull off a good old-fashioned wooing?”

“I believe in you, pal.” Steve claps him on the shoulder and then looks around the broom closet thoughtfully, taking in the dirty mop and the shelves of cleaning supplies and filthy rags. “You’re honestly not even doing a bad job of wooing me right now. Want to trade hand jobs for old time’s sake?”

Bucky shoots Steve a withering look. “I’m not wooing you right now, Steve, you’re just easy. Go find Natasha if you’re horny.”

Steve shrugs. “Eh, it was worth a shot.”

***

Two months later, once Steve and Natasha have completed Dr. Carson’s background check and confirmed that she isn’t HYDRA, Sam and Bucky return to therapy. Even though Dr. Carson hasn’t seen them in months, she looks pinched and irritated, and the deep wrinkles in her forehead and the sudden explosion of gray in her hair make her look as though she’s aged five years since she started giving them therapy.

Bucky frowns and squints in suspicion. “We haven’t gotten Blipped again, have we?”

“What?”

“You just look—” Bucky gestures toward her hair and the bags under her eyes.

Dr. Carson’s expression shifts from exhausted indifference to polite fury, and Bucky’s just about to apologize when Sam gestures toward the floor under the window and says, “Hey, look at that! It’s about time you got Bucky a therapy puppy, you know that his doctors in Wakanda strongly encouraged it.”

When Bucky follows the line of Sam’s arm, he sees the cutest puppy in the world sitting in a fuzzy little dog bed with pictures of bones on it. Bucky gasps in delight. “He’s so cute, Sam, look at his little face!”

The puppy’s face is perfect, with big brown eyes and a short little snout with a tiny black nose. When he wags his tail, his little butt wiggles and Bucky wants to die about it. He loves this puppy so much.

“I’m naming him Paddington after my favorite movie,” Bucky declares.

“I love it,” Sam says immediately, pulling out his phone. “Put him in your lap so I can get some pictures for Steve and Natasha. They’re going to be so jealous when they find out that we got to have a dog in our therapy.”

Sam and Bucky spend the next ten minutes playing with Paddington and taking photos of the two of them with their adorable new therapy dog while Dr. Carson rubs her forehead like she just fucking knew this puppy would be a distraction.

“I think we should get started,” Dr. Carson interrupts, glancing pointedly at her watch.

“Yes, perfect!” Bucky pulls a small notebook out of his back pocket. “OK, so let me catch you up on everything we’ve done to each other since our last meeting, and I especially want your input on the scoring system that Sam and I have developed—”

Bucky and Sam spend the next half hour recounting their every interaction over the past couple of months in explicit, pornographic detail while Dr. Carson repeatedly clenches and unclenches her fists. When they spend ten full minutes alone on the rim job Bucky gave Sam last Saturday, Dr. Carson’s eyes go distant and glassy like a shell shocked veteran of the Great War or something. Bucky has literally seen torture victims make less of an effort to dissociate from their surroundings than Dr. Carson right now.

Honestly, who would have expected a therapist with thirty years’ experience to be so faint of heart? It’s absolutely critical to Bucky and Sam’s scoring system to determine whether Sam let out a “choked moan” or a “strangled gasp” while Bucky ate him out, and Bucky doesn’t appreciate Dr. Carson’s frankly lackluster participation when they stage a reenactment of events to try and settle the matter. She doesn’t even seem very decisive when she finally renders her judgment, like maybe she just doesn’t care what kind of sound Sam made, even though it was the most erotic noise Bucky’s ever heard in a hundred years.

When Sam concludes his argument for why words of affirmation during sex should count for more points than praise at work, Dr. Carson sighs heavily, looks off into the distance for exactly ten seconds, and then states, “I think we should discuss how you two can erect boundaries between your work relationship and your sexual relationship.”

Sam raises a skeptical eyebrow at Dr. Carson’s audacity. “Do you really feel like you’re qualified to counsel us on that particular issue?”

Dr. Carson’s jaw clenches. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, after everything that went down between you and Dr. Fitzgerald back in Philadelphia, I hardly think—”

Dr. Carson’s face whitens like curdled milk. “How did you find out about that?”

“Remember Natasha’s background check? Anyway, I’m just saying that it’s a tad bit hypocritical of you to suggest that Bucky and I shouldn’t be fucking during work hours, I mean, Bucky isn’t even married—”

Dr. Carson bites her lip so ferociously that she draws blood. “Bucky may not be married, but he is technically your subordinate, and that means there’s an uneven power dynamic to consider here—”

Sam smirks like he’s fucking Benjamin Matlock and he knows he’s just one pointed question away from making the guilty party break down and confess right there on the witness stand. (Bucky makes a mental note to ask Sam later why he and Natasha always snicker when Bucky and Steve get together to play cribbage and watch Matlock on Sunday afternoons.) “You mean like the uneven power dynamic at play between you and that doctoral student whose dissertation committee you chaired at UPenn?”

Dr. Carson gasps, and her face turns as red and furious as Sister Mary Angela’s that time she caught Steve’s skinny arms nailing a copy of Martin Luther’s Ninety-five Theses to the heavy wooden door of St. Charles Borromeo.

Bucky’s mind wanders a bit at that memory. God, Steve Rogers really was such a bad influence—maybe Sister Mary Angela was right about their distracting and unnaturally close relationship. Because of course Bucky couldn’t leave that stubborn asshole to face Sister Mary Angela’s wrath alone, so Bucky had ended up confessing to abusing his powers as editor of the student newspaper to let Steve use the school’s small printing press. Bucky emerged from the experience with an ass that burned for a week and a few uncomfortable new kinks.

Now, Bucky looks speculatively over at Sam’s strong hands and shifts in his chair.

“I just remembered, Sam and I have something really important to do,” Bucky announces. “So we’ll see you next week, right? OK, cool. C’mon, Paddington!”

Bucky grabs Paddington’s cute little dog bed and Paddington hops down from Sam’s lap to follow them out of the office, his tail wagging happily as he trots along beside them. God, Paddington is so fucking cute, Bucky cannot believe what a great dog he is.

Dr. Carson calls out after them through gritted teeth. “You’re not supposed to take the therapy dog with you!”

“Sorry, what?” Sam shouts back, cupping his hand around his ear. “I can’t hear you!”

“Bucky, I know you have super hearing!”.

“Sorry, I’m a hundred and six years old and I left my ear trumpet at home!” Bucky raises his hands in an exaggerated shrug to convey the hopelessness of trying to communicate at this great distance of about forty feet.

“God, I need a fucking vacation forever,” Dr. Carson mutters.

***

Later, after Bucky and Sam collapse against Sam’s sheets in sweaty exhaustion, Bucky mentally tallies their points and comes to the frustrating conclusion that Sam is still absolutely wiping the floor with him in this love languages competition. God, how is Sam so good at everything? He’s so fucking handsome and charming and athletic and just, like, absolute dynamite in the sack—

God, no wonder Bucky’s losing. There’s no way he can win this competition with his dick alone. Time to channel Tommy Dorsey and play it from the heart.

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky murmurs, leaning up to nuzzle his nose against Sam’s jaw. “Let me cook you dinner tonight, doll. Wanna treat you right.”

“‘M not your doll,” Sam grumbles. “But yeah, OK.”

Bucky kisses Sam’s shoulder and plots.

Three hours later, Bucky and Steve survey Bucky’s dining room with the smug satisfaction of Scarlett O’Hara stealing her sister’s fiancé to get her greedy hands on his general store and sawmill.

“I think we nailed it, pal,” Steve boasts. “This looks just like your date night mood board.”

“I mean, I feel like half the credit should go to Pinterest user donkeydick2004—who would’ve guessed that he’d have such a sensitive soul.”

Bucky’s dining room table is covered with rose petals sprinkled over Bucky’s mother’s best lace tablecloth, liberated from the archives of the Smithsonian along with the rest of the contents of Steve and Bucky’s old Brooklyn Heights apartment. Two lit candles rise proudly from the gleaming silver of Sarah Rogers’s candleholders—the only wedding gift she’d managed to save from the pawnbroker during those lean years of Steve’s childhood—and the Victrola crackles with the smooth tenor of Enrico Caruso singing an aria so romantic it once brought a tear to the clear, flinty eye of Bucky’s father. Bucky’s grateful now that the Barneses were a Victor Talking Machine Company family—those Edison wax cylinders decayed faster than American democracy after the invention of Facebook.

The first time Bucky saw the familiar red logo of that Caruso record again—faithful Nipper the dog, his head tipped toward the horn of a gramophone playing the sound of his dead master’s voice—Bucky drove straight out into the desert and screamed until he was hoarse.

And now tonight Bucky’s using that very record to romance the shit out of Sam Wilson, so Nick Fury and Dr. Carson can fuck off with their so-called “therapy” because Bucky Barnes is doing great.

Steve clears his throat and gives Bucky a meaningful look. “You know, if this is all just some competition between you and Sam, you didn’t have to drive out to Maryland to dig all of our most personal and intimate memories out of storage for this dinner.”

Flustered, Bucky replies, “You have no idea what a canny opponent Sam is! Every time that man talks, my heart flutters and my stomach’s all full of butterflies. Besides,” Bucky says, “my grandfather paid fifty extra dollars to get the Circassian walnut veneer put on that old Victrola—he would haunt me if I didn’t ever use it, Steve.”

“You know your Aunt Margaret spit on her own father’s grave when your grandfather left that Victrola to your dad instead of her?”

Bucky laughs. “Is that why they had that big falling out? I couldn’t remember.”

“Peggy said that your Aunt Margaret wrote Howard Stark a letter every month until the day she died demanding the return of that Victrola.”

“Well, I hope that greedy old hag is looking down at me right now,” Bucky says, shaking his head in disbelief. “She deserves to watch me seduce my gay lover with that Victrola, it serves her right. You know she called you a fairy once?”

Steve gestures toward the intimate tableau featuring all of Bucky’s most precious memories and dryly states, “Well, as long as you’re clear on spite as your motivation for all of this.”

Bucky bites his lip as a sudden fear strikes him. “Do you think Sam’s going to like the chicken? People still roast chicken, right? It’s not just, like, sushi and gluten free vegan desserts nowadays?”

Steve opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a knock at the door. Paddington dives off the sofa like he’s responding to an Avengers Assemble alarm—which, oh my god, could Paddington wear a little outfit and come with the Avengers on ops? Bucky needs to look into this immediately—and dances around in elation when Bucky opens the door to reveal Sam, who is looking fine as hell in a lavender button-down and navy trousers.

And Bucky’s heart is—honestly not reacting much differently than Paddington right now.

“Aw, hi, baby!” Sam says, leaning down to pet Paddington and scratch him behind the ears. When Sam’s finished giving Paddington the attention he so richly deserves, Bucky’s pulled in for a long, heartbreakingly tender kiss that sends a shiver of want down the entire length of his spine. Sam and Steve exchange their own greetings while Bucky surreptitiously reaches up to rub at the goosebumps prickling at the sensitive skin at the back of his neck.

“Steve, you’re going to be OK watching Paddington tonight, right?” Bucky’s voice is threaded with the justifiable suspicion of someone who has known Steve Rogers for a lifetime.

Steve’s mouth drops open in offense. “Yes! Bucky, I know how to watch a dog.”

Bucky lifts Paddington’s tiny body and curls his arms protectively around him. “OK, well, Paddington is the most important thing in the world to me, and you are literally the least responsible person I know, so.”

“What? Bucky, I’m—that’s—I’m Captain America. I’m famously responsible.”

“Sam is Captain America, Steve. I feel like you’re not moving on. Also my brain might be a giant lump of small curd cottage cheese now, but I still remember that you’re a reckless idiot.”

Sam gives Steve a sharp look of his own and says, “Steve, Paddington is very important to Bucky’s therapy and also to our therapy as a couple—” Sam pauses, then adds, “of coworkers. So make sure you give him his favorite treats, but don’t give him too many treats, and make sure he doesn’t pull the squeaker out of his stuffed alligator—”

Bucky and Sam lead Steve to the door while Sam continues to debrief Steve on all of Paddington’s most important feelings and preferences. “You should really be writing all of this down, Steve,” Sam says with a frown.

Steve sighs. “I have an eidetic memory.”

“All right, well, if we pick him up in the morning and he has an upset tummy, I will literally kill you, and Sam—the trustworthy Captain America—will be my alibi,” Bucky says.

Sam nods in solemn agreement.

Bucky and Sam part from Paddington with identical expressions of worry as Steve walks him down the hall to his apartment.

As soon as Steve’s door closes, Bucky is all over Sam, pressing him against the wall and skimming his lips over the warm skin of Sam’s neck. God, Sam smells incredible, like tobacco and vanilla and oiled leather, and somehow the masculine scent of him travels down Bucky’s windpipe and directly to his cock.

“Hi,” Bucky breathes.

“Hey, baby,” Sam murmurs, tipping his head back to let Bucky’s lips trail along his throat to his jawline. Bucky’s just getting really into it, his hips pressing insistently against Sam’s, when the timer for the oven goes off.

Over dinner, Bucky and Sam talk and laugh about their coworkers as the candlelight does frankly amazing things for Sam’s bone structure. Bucky squirms in his chair and tries to will away the flush he can feel spreading up his neck when Sam compliments Bucky on the romantic lighting and the beautiful place settings. Fuck, he’s supposed to be giving Sam quality time here, and instead Sam’s using that quality time to offer Bucky more words of affirmation. Bucky’s not really ready to concede this battle just yet, but he’s definitely starting to craft a defeat narrative for himself about the lack of shame in being beaten by the best.

And Sam is definitely the best.

“That chicken was incredible.” Sam pats his stomach and groans in satisfaction. “You know that’s just how my mama always makes it?”

Bucky wonders if it would be weird to divulge that he actually broke into Sam’s mother’s house to sneak a look at her recipe cards. That’s normal intelligence gathering, right? Bucky made sure Sam’s mom was out of the house when he entered, and afterward he sent a team of security specialists to give her a better alarm system setup—”compliments of SHIELD, ma’am”—when he realized that her house was way too easy to break into. And Bucky’s dad always said to leave things better than you found them, so if anything Sam’s mom is probably safer now than she was before the world’s most legendary assassin crept into her house to rifle through her personal belongings.

He feels like Natasha would agree with him but he also feels like Natasha is probably just as batshit insane as Bucky and Steve are. Bucky has literally no normal friends and he should probably start spending more time with Sharon Carter.

After dinner, Sam looks relaxed and sated, his eyes warm and heavy-lidded as he watches Bucky shiver under his praise. “You know you have a praise kink, right?”

“Yes, Sam,” Bucky says, and tries to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Steve and I did a ton of research and watched, like, hours of porn together. We figured it out.”

“You and Steve have some serious boundary issues.” Sam shakes his head and grins in amusement. “But seriously, though, you’re not just hooking up with me because you imprinted on me after I made your dick hard or something, right? I mean, I remember the first time I got a boner after being deployed. I cried like a baby, so I get it, man, but—”

“Actually, I sort of wanted to talk to you about that,” Bucky says, his stomach swimming with nerves. This is the moment he’s been anticipating and dreading since he planned this whole date night op. “I was thinking—how would you feel about taking this competition to the next level?”

Sam’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I just think we’d both have more time and energy to devote to this competition if we were competing, you know, exclusively.”

“Ah.” Sam’s expression clears and a slow smile spreads across his handsome face. “You want to be boyfriends.”

“I want to be boyfriends,” Bucky confirms with a decisive nod.

He may be losing this love language competition by about a hundred and fifty points, but Bucky still has some fight in him yet. And between work and sex and co-ownership of Paddington, Bucky’s already spending so much time with Sam that there’s no real way to increase the amount of time in “quality time”—but he can improve the quality of that time. If Bucky and Sam are boyfriends, Bucky figures, all that quality time should automatically count for more points than the quality time they spend together as coworkers with confusing feelings for each other, right?

Bucky’s lungs burn as he holds his breath held in anticipation of Sam’s response.

“Yeah, let’s be boyfriends,” Sam says, with a grin tugging at his lips.

Bucky’s heart soars in victory.

***

Bucky and Sam have decided not to bring Paddington with them to any future therapy appointments just in case Dr. Carson tries to take him away like Cruella de Vil.

This week, however, Dr. Carson shows up their session with a whole new vibe. Instead of striding imperiously into her office in her usual stern fashion, Dr. Carson blows in fifteen minutes late with the casual energy of a high school senior during the last week of school. She walks over to her desk, flip-flops slapping against her feet, and reclines back in her chair to prop her feet up onto the polished surface of her solid oak desk. She’s dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie like a suburban mom in an airport waiting to fly down to Miami for a Caribbean cruise.

“So how’s it going this week, boys?” Dr. Carson asks, slurping from the straw of her Big Gulp soda.

“Um, great.” Sam eyes her cautiously. “Bucky and I are boyfriends now.”

“No shit!” Dr. Carson says, and tilts her head back to squint down at them. “Huh. What do you know about that.” Then she shrugs. “Tell me how it happened.”

So Bucky and Sam tell her every detail of the last week, including the way they tenderly made love after Sam agreed to be Bucky’s boyfriend. Dr. Carson is clear-eyed and engaged the entire time, even during the five full minutes Sam devotes to the ripple of Bucky’s abdominal muscles as he strains toward orgasm, and Bucky’s just starting to think that maybe they can get some real therapy out of Dr. Carson when she says—

“So Fury’s transferring me to Hawaii.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open. “What?”

“Yup.” Dr. Carson burrows deeper into her chair and lets out a relaxed sigh before taking another loud sip of her soda. “This is our last session!”

“So do we have a new therapist after this, or?” Sam waves his hand uncertainly.

“Nah, I’m just gonna go ahead and tell Fury that you guys are doing great. You’ve officially graduated therapy.”

Bucky chokes on air. “Excuse me, what? We graduated therapy?”

“Sure, why not?” Dr. Carson says with a lazy shrug. “Despite literally all of my expectations to the contrary, it seems like you guys have actually formed a stable partnership. Just, you know, maybe stop fucking so much at work.”

Bucky scoffs. “Listen, I didn’t give my life fighting Nazis in World War II—” he begins.

***

After Bucky and Sam’s appointment with Dr. Carson, Sam receives a text asking him to meet Fury in his executive suite.

Bucky heads back to his own office—his real one, buried deep within the bowels of SHIELD in a secret interrogation room someone bricked up the entrance to and then forgot about years ago. Bucky discovered it while crawling through the air ducts to place surveillance equipment in the offices of Nick Fury and the major SHIELD department heads. Once Bucky disposed of the mummified body he found inside—which, wow, super gross—it made the perfect private office space and server room.

Bucky opens his surveillance software just in time to hear Fury tell Sam that Bucky broke his best therapist.

“Dr. Carson is a highly trained professional at the top of her field,” Fury says, his voice stern. “I had to offer her a fifty percent raise to lure her away from private practice, and now I’m sending her away from D.C., where all of my elite agents reside, to Honolulu, which is where I send all the useless nepotism agents I’m forced to hire by the World Security Council. I don’t know what Barnes did to that woman but he just cost me a very experienced and expensive mental health professional.”

“And what makes you think Agent Barnes is at fault?”

“Dr. Carson is obviously not at liberty to divulge any specifics about what was said during your therapy sessions, but she did note that your bickering was ‘maddening’ and that she, quote, hadn’t even realized it was possible to overshare during therapy. She also indicated that Barnes instigated an invasive and traumatizing background check that caused her a great deal of personal distress.’”

“Given Agent Barnes’s history with SHIELD, I think it’s perfectly understandable that he may have sought reassurance that Dr. Carson wasn’t an agent of HYDRA.” Sam’s voice is bland and pleasant. “It’s hardly Agent Barnes’s fault that Dr. Carson turned out to have a surprisingly messy personal life.”

“Be that as it may, I’m suspending Barnes from active duty until he passes a second psych eval from another therapist.”

“With all due respect, sir, Agent Barnes has been nothing but cooperative in this retaliatory investigation into his mental state. He’s a skilled and creative fighter, a selfless and generous partner, and a brilliant tactician. He deserves to be treated with the same respect as any other SHIELD agent who hasn’t shot you.”

Jesus Christ, is Sam offering Bucky words of affirmation even when he’s not there to hear them? What kind of love language master is Sam? God, how can Bucky possibly compete with this?

Fury’s voice is strangled. “Retaliatory?”

“Yes,” Sam says firmly. “As far as I’m aware, Agent Barnes has cleared all mandatory psychological evaluations and then some. If you have a problem with his—or my—behavior in the workplace, I suggest you carefully review our employment contracts and initiate the appropriate disciplinary proceedings. In the meantime, I will be continuing with Agent Barnes as my partner. There will be no suspension.”

The sound of Fury’s office door slamming shut is unexpectedly erotic.

By the time Sam slides through the secret passageway into Bucky’s office, Sam looks calm and collected, like he hasn’t just returned from facing down a man with the power and authority to send him to one of a half-dozen black sites so secret they probably exist on other planets.

“So how’d the meeting go?” Bucky asks, suppressing a grin.

“Oh, it was fine,” Sam says with a nonchalant wave of his hand. “We don’t have to do therapy anymore.”

Bucky lets his smile spread across his face. “Oh, yeah? No more retaliatory investigations into my mental state?”

When Sam realizes how Bucky must have overheard that remark, his eyes widen in delight. “I’m sorry, did you bug Fury’s office? Bucky Barnes, you crazy asshole, I love you so fucking much.”

Bucky freezes. Sam loves him? Adrenaline and exhilaration race through Bucky’s veins, spreading through his entire circulatory system until he feels like he’s going to buzz right out of his skin. For the second time in Bucky’s life, he’s been flung straight over the side of a cliff, except this time Sam has wings to catch him. God, this is why they call it falling, isn’t it?

Bucky is feeling so fucking affirmed right now. He has never felt so affirmed in his entire life.

And Bucky’s lost that stupid competition now, hasn’t he. There’s no way Bucky can compete with that declaration, no way he can pull off a victory after Sam just earned himself, like, fifty million points—but when Bucky looks at Sam’s gap-toothed grin, he thinks maybe, just maybe, he’s secretly won after all.

And he does have one last, best card to play.

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky says, with a wide grin, “how do you feel about moving in together?”

[radishaur]

can u do a zuko x reader high school au where the reader (female or gender neutral) is part of the gaang's friend group and is a huge nerd? (in math or science or english or everything because there aren't enough nerd readers mam) feel free to do anything you want with that! ty!

As a fellow nerd, I am so in love with this idea! I actually love this idea so I think I’m gonna be turning this one into a series! I hope you enjoy this!

- Zoe

•••

Highschool AU (Zuko x Reader)

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff, Highschool AU, some angst

Part: 1/?

Summary: Zuko was, by no means, your typical student. He was super popular despite having relatively no friends. He was quite shy and mostly kept to himself. Every girl was swooning over him, but he never noticed. He also was pretty much barely passing every class he was in, besides PE and Theatre. So when the school appoints you as his personal tutor, you wouldn’t say you were surprised. What did surprise you was how well the two of you got along.

•••

The soft sound of the alarm going off brought you out of your sleep. You groaned in annoyance before sitting up. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but that didn’t matter. School started at 7 AM sharp, no excuses.

You swung yourself out of bed and hit the off button for your alarm. Stretching, you found yourself walking into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

It was the same routine every day. Get up and get ready for school. Eat breakfast and go straight to school. Go to your classes as expected and don’t cause trouble. Keep your grades up or else. Look out for your sister because she’s blind and “can’t take care of herself” (total bullshit). Come home and do your homework. Go to sleep. That was the routine for Y/N Beifong.

Having parents in politics meant you were constantly having to meet these insane expectations. You had to be perfect. There was no room to be a normal teenager. Not for me.

I sighed and got dressed before heading over to Toph’s room. She was usually a heavy sleeper and I had to wake her up.

“Toph! Sokka, Aang, and Katara are gonna be here any minute now,” I exclaimed as I turned the lights on in her room.

She grumbled slightly before sitting up. Her hair was everywhere and I giggled slightly.

“Come on. Get dressed so I can do your hair,” I told her before heading to the kitchen to make some food.

I put some fruit into the blender along with some ice and milk to make us both smoothies. I let it mix before pouring them into two cup and handing one to a sleepy Toph who shuffled into the kitchen.

“Rough night?” I asked as I began taming her hair.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied as she hastily drank her smoothie.

I pinned her hair into her usual style. As I was placing the last bobby pin in, I heard a honk from outside. Definitely Sokka.

Toph and I both grabbed our bags before running outside and jumping in the car. The rides to school were always my favorite. We could just laugh and be ourselves. It was incredibly refreshing.

When we pulled into the school parking lot, we all went out seperate ways to class. I was the oldest of the group, a whole grade above everyone else. Sokka and Katara were only one underneath me and then Aang and Toph were both freshman. How is that even possible you might be asking?

Well, both Aang and Katara skipped a grade. They’ve always been slightly smarter than their age group so it didn’t really surprise anyone. As for Toph, pretty much everyone was surprised to find out that she was practically a genius. She didn’t care about school in the slightest, but she was incredibly smart. She had to take special classes because of her blindness, but she was a part of the school nonetheless. Honestly, it worked out great for me. I had all of my friends in the same place, even if I didn’t have any classses with them.

I went about my day as usual, vigorously taking notes and listening to the different lectures. Everything was going by as normal until I was called to the principals office before lunch. My teacher handed me the note before continuing his lecture.

The walk there had been absolutely nerve wracking. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong and yet I still couldn’t calm down. Mostly out of fear for what my parents would do if they found out I was called there in the first place. I took a deep breath before opening the door to the principal’s office.

“Ah! Miss Y/N,” Principal Williams greeted with a welcoming smile, “Have a seat.”

“Good morning Mr. Williams,” I replied as I sat down.

I shifted nervously in my seat as I waited for him to tell me why I was here.

“Don’t worry. You’re not in trouble,” he prefaced, sending a wave of relief over me, “We’re just waiting on another student to arrive and then I’ll explain why you’re here.”

I cocked my head curiously, wondering what could possibly be happening. It wasn’t maybe a minute long before the door creaked open once more. Stepping inside was the last person I expected to see.

“Mr. Zuko! Late as always,” Principal Williams greeted, noticeably less friendly.

Standing in the doorway stood Zuko. He had a red cardigan with a button up underneath, black jeans, and a brown book bag slung over his shoulders. My eyes flicked to the scar that covered almost the entire left side of his face before looking over the rest of him. His brown hair fell lightly over his face and he shifted nervously in the doorway before sitting like he was told to.

“This is Ms. Y/N. I’m sure you’ve seen eachother around school before,” he said, pointing between the two of us.

Zuko nodded slightly before averting his gaze. I had indeed seen him around before. His father was also in politics and his sister, Azula, was one of the top students in the school and the two were never seen together at school. His scar was the spark of many gossip filled conversations you could hear while walking down the halls. Zuko himself was quiet. He kept to himself and didn’t have many friends.

“Zuko here is in need of a tutor. He’s barely passing any of his classes and his father is paying us to find him a student tutor. Seeing as you’re one of our top students and the same age, it only made sense to pick you,” he explained to me, barely even paying attention to Zuko at all.

“Oh,” was all I managed to say.

I had a million thoughts running through my head. I didn’t even know what to say.

“We’ll pay you for your efforts of course and the school will provide you with library space to work. All you need to do is tutor Zuko until his grades go up,” he continued, leaning back in his chair.

Zuko hadn’t said a word. You could see him blushing slightly out of the corner of your eye, presumably because he was embarrassed. You two had never spoken before and now he was getting bad mouthed right in front of me. I couldn’t help but feel somewhat sorry for him. Principal Williams did really put him in an uncomfortable position.

“When would I be tutoring him?” I asked, bringing my attention back to the situation at hand.

“Every day after school starting today until his grades improve. Then we can adjust the schedule as needed,” Principal Williams said before handing me a sheet of paper and adding, “That’s a list of all the subjects you’ll be covering.”

I nodded to conform I had heard him, but my head was elsewhere. This was a huge commitment I was being thrown into, but I couldn’t really say no. Besides, judging by the list of subjects I’d be teaching him, they were all ones I actually enjoyed. I would have to tell my parents and Toph about the new arrangement though and that wasn’t a conversation I was particularly looking forward too.

“Great. Why don’t you two exchange phone numbers so you can communicate and then you can be on your ways,” he said before ushering us out into the waiting room.

I stood awkwardly in front of him. He was only slightly taller than me, but it was enough to make me feel slightly intimidated. Despite his social awkwardness, he looked like someone you didn’t want to piss off. I shook my head and decided to introduce myself properly.

“So, I know that probably wasn’t the best way to get introduced. My name is Y/N,” I said, giving him a friendly smile.

“Zuko,” he said back.

This was the first time I had heard his voice. In all honesty, it sent a swarm of butterflies off in my stomach. It was quiet and held this almost gravelly tone that made my knees weak.

“It’s nice to meet you. Why don’t I give you my number so I can text you later,” I suggested, shoving the funny feeling in my stomach down.

He took his phone out and looked at me. His amber eyes met my (E/C) one’s expectantly. I repeated my number for him and then pulled out my own to get his. I was putting his contact name in when he spoke again.

“I’m sorry for getting you forced into tutoring me. My family was insistent on having a student tutor,” he apologized, a small blush dusting his cheeks as he did.

“That’s alright. I don’t mind. I’m actually really passionate about most of the stuff I’ll be teaching you anyways,” I assured him as I stuffed my phone back into my pocket.

He hummed to let me know he had heard me but he didn’t say anything else. I looked down awkwardly by my feet, unsure of what to do next. I was scrambling for what to say when the lunch bell rang.

“Well, I better get going. I don’t want to keep my friends waiting. I’ll text you after school,” I said before making my way to the lunch room.

I met my friends and we all got in line to grab lunch. I was grateful that our school provided actual food. Granted, this was a private school. It was incredibly prestigious. You had to either pay to attend or be here on a scholarship.

“So, I heard that you got pulled out of class to go to the principal’s office,” Toph taunted, poking me in the side with her elbow.

“Ms. Goody-two-shoes got sent to the office? No way,” Sokka said, grabbing his tray as we all began walking towards our table outside.

“What did you get called down for?” Aang asked out of curiosity.

We all sat down at the table and I began eating as I answered.

“I’m going to be a tutor for another student. I’m getting paid and everything,” I explained.

“Oh wow! Who is it?” Katara asked as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

“Zuko,” I answered casually.

Sokka choked on his drink and looked at me with wide eyes. Pretty much everybody at the table did besides Toph who just continued eating like nothing had happened.

“You’re going to be tutoring Zuko? Like the Zuko?” he asked in disbelief.

I rolled my eyes. Everybody at school acted like this. Sokka really needed to stop gossiping so much.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. He’s just like the rest of us,” I argued, taking another bite of my food.

“You’re insane, Y/N. Zuko is the mysterious hottie that everybody wants to date. Do you know how many people would kill for the opportunity you were just handed?” he exclaimed, waving his hands out to gesture to the many students milling around.

“Don’t tell me you’re crushing on him or something. Are you jealous?” I teased, kicking his leg slightly under the table.

Everybody laughed as Sokka scowled.

“Haha. You know I’ve had my eyes on Suki since day one,” he sighed, looking off in the distance dreamily.

We spent the rest of the lunch period like usual, just discussing our days and making plans to hang out this weekend. I went through the rest of my classses more anxious than usual, though. Normally I would be completely focused, but I couldn’t get my mind of tutoring Zuko.

His awkward demeanor did nothing to hide his look. I hated to agree with the opinion of the student body, but he was undeniably good looking. I also couldn’t stop thinking about how I had to spend the next however many hours trying to tutor him. I was nervous to see if I would be any good at it. What if we didn’t get alone well?

I was brought back to reality by the final bell. My heartbeat began to accelerate slightly, but I forced myself to calm down. I texted the group chat I had with my friends to remind them of my tutoring session and then made my way into the library. It was completely empty save for Zuko. He was already sitting down at a table and was fidgeting nervously with his sleeve. He had headphones in and I made sure to walk in front of him so I didn’t startle him.

“Hey,” I said, sitting down in the chair next to him.

He plucked the earbuds out of his ears carefully and turned to look at me. He gave me a halfhearted smile before shoving his headphones into his bag.

“Hi,” he mumbled.

“So, I feel like I should preface this by letting you know I’ve never been a tutor before. I’m not really sure how this is supposed to work,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

I pulled my textbooks out of my bag and set them down on the table. I thought for a moment before deciding on what to do.

“Why don’t we get to know eachother better?” I suggested.

His good eye widened a bit in shock before his expression changed to one of confusion.

“Aren’t you supposed to be tutoring me?” he questioned me.

“I will. I just think it would help if we actually knew a little bit about eachother. That way we aren’t just total strangers,” I explained, turning my chair to face him.

He shifted nervously before finally facing me. He was definitely incredibly awkward. Luckily for both of us, I found it endearing. Besides, growing up with Toph you kind of have to learn to adapt. She’s not exactly known for being the most social.

“Alright,” he agreed.

“Great. I guess I’ll start. Ask me anything you want to know,” I said, leaning back in my chair.

His brows furrowed in thought. I had to hold back at laugh at his determination. He was taking this very seriously it appeared.

“What uh.....what do you do for fun?” he asked finally.

“I actually love to read. That’s usually what I do after school if I’m not hanging out with my friends. I also love studying environmental science,” I answered honestly.

“Oh. I’m not very good at either of those,” he admitted sheepishly, his cheeks growing pink.

“What are you good at?” I asked.

“I guess I’m good at sports. I used to take martial arts when I was little. Now I mostly just um......” he trailed off before mumbling something under his breath, his embarrassment growing clearer and clearer.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear the last part,” I admitted.

“I uh......I really enjoy theatre,” he admitted quietly, averting his gaze from mine.

“Oh! I didn’t strike you as a theatre person. That’s cool! My sister and I used to sneak out and watch some local plays before we got caught,” I admitted, laughing at the memory.

Toph used to insist on going, even though she couldn’t see. She said it was a good chance for her to practice her version of seeing. At first, I thought it was ridiculous, but she surprised me like usual. As long as her feet were on the ground she could sense where everything was.

Zuko was surprised. He had expected you to make fun of him, but instead you seemed completely unfazed. Theatre, as his father said, was for girls.

“You don’t think that’s weird?” he questioned, testing the waters.

“Why would that be weird?” you asked, your head cocked to the side in confusion.

He seemed to be relaxed slightly by your answer and for the first time, a genuine smile graced his features. It was small, but even that sent a small flutter alight in your stomach. You smiled back and continued to get to know him. After a while, you finally began tutoring him. You spent almost 2 hours there before you two decided to call it a night.

Now, you were laying in bed. Normally you would be out like a light, but tonight you couldn’t get a certain someone out of your head. You guys had clicked almost instantly after Zuko relaxed. You guys had more in common than you would have expected.

You sighed and turned on your side to look at the stars. As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but be excited to see him again.

[lu-undy]

Chapter 88 - SBT

Here it is!

"Mh, now I'm no expert on wines but that's a good one, I like it!" Mike said as he put his glass back on the table. "C'mon, boys, help yourselves to the nibbles, otherwise I'll eat everythin' and Caroline will tell me off…!"

"As I should!" She answered. "But yes, please, Lucien.. Micky, push the olives to him, dear."

"Sure…" Mundy obeyed. 

"I am glad you like the wine, Mike. Madame Caroline, what are your impressions?" Lucien asked. 

"Very good too, not too sweet and not too fruity."

Lucien nodded and smiled.

"So Mundy got his impressively delicate palate from you, Madame?" 

"Oh?" She answered. "And please, call me Caroline." 

"I shall. But oui, Mundy is gifted when it comes to tasting." Lucien went on and Mundy's cheeks turned pink. 

"Well… Uh… I don't know… I mean…"

Caroline chuckled. 

"Well, he is my baby after all, aren't you Micky?" She pinched his cheek and he smiled.

"Château… des… Graves?" Mike deciphered with his English pronunciation.

"Château des Graves." Lucien corrected. "Made where I come from."

"Where's that?" Mike asked. 

"The region around Bordeaux, in the South-West of France." 

"Bordeaux…" Mike repeated. "Isn't that the region famous for its wine?" 

"Oui, the red kind in particular although our winemakers are getting better with white and rosé these days." Lucien commented as everyone snacked on between two sentences. 

"So what's your story?" Mike asked. "Micky told us you were French, and if may say so, I can quite hear it in your voice, eh."

"Oh yes, charming accent!" Caroline added. 

"Merci." Lucien nodded politely. 

"So yeah, how did you end up in Oz of all places? What were you doin' back in France?" 

"Well..." Lucien started. "I originally destined myself to the world of the stage." 

"You were an actor?" Caroline asked excitedly. 

"Almost," Lucien answered. "I was a singer." 

"Ooh!" She exclaimed, even more enthusiastic. 

"Back then, I was barely a man. But the war struck and as a young and capable man, I was drafted into the resisting forces of my country."

"Ah, sorry to hear that, son." Mike said. "I've had some mates go to fight and not return."

"I lost a lot of my brothers in arms too." Lucien said. 

"But you survived, eh?" 

"Oui, I did, and it was hard at first." 

"Excuse me, I'll bring the salad." Caroline said. 

"Hold on, Mum, I'll help." Mundy went with her. 

"Y'know, Lucien, " Mike looked his guest in the eye. "I understand that. Used to have a mate who made it back but could never really live normally again."

"Indeed, it is typical among soldiers. But I didn't leave the army, I moved ranks and services."

"Oh, so you stayed there?"

"Oui, I did, all the way until my life flipped." 

"Here we are with the salad!" Caroline entered. "Micky, put the chicken and potatoes on the side, thank you, sweetie." 

Mundy did as he was told. 

"Lucien, please?" 

"Oh, but of course." Lucien passed his plate and Caroline served him. When all the plates were filled, she sat down and they all started digging in. 

"Bon appétit." Lucien said. "And thank you very much for all of this effort."

"It's nothing, it feels nice to cook for Micky and his friend." 

They all had a go at the salad. 

"The lettuce's really fresh, Mum. Reminds me of the farm…" Mundy said with nostalgia. 

"It comes from the garden, sweetie."

"Does it? Hold on, you have a garden?" 

"Yeah, we do, son." Mike answered with a chuckle at Mundy's surprise. "Got a few things goin' on back there, you can have a look after dinner if you want." 

"Sure!"

"Lucien, ya like gardenin'?" Mike asked. 

"Oui, very much. I find that nurturing nature is fulfilling in an almost spiritual way." 

"Well said, son, well said…" Mike nodded. "People now all want fancy jobs in cities, with fancy suits and ties - uh…" Mike stopped when he realised that Lucien was in fact wearing exactly that. "No offense, eh?" His eyes darted to his wife, a bit ashamed, and Caroline glared at him.

"None taken," Lucien answered with a smile. "I see perfectly what you mean." 

"Yeah… Well they all want that and look at farmin' like it's dirty jobs. Let me tell you, it's honest work, honest pay, and you're helping yourself and the community… Makin' a positive difference, y'know what I mean?"

"But of course." 

The concerto of cutlery on plates went on as they moved on to the main course. Caroline had prepared a roasted chicken with baked potatoes and roasted vegetables. Mike stood up to cut the chicken. 

"Wanna do it, Micky?" 

Mundy raised his eyes like a child. He was shocked by his father's question as much as he was honoured. 

"Uh, I mean, really?" 

"Yeah, you're a big boy now, c'mon, do it…!" Mike handed him the large knife. 

"Right…" Mundy stood up and got busy with it, under his father's keen eyes. The Aussie looked at his mother with excited eyes for a second and she nodded, proud of him. His cheeks turned pink. "What bit d'you like, Lu'?" 

"Lu?" Mike repeated and Mundy blushed beyond his ears. 

"Y-yeah, it's uh…"

"It is a nickname." Lucien explained. "And of all the ways Mundy could have called me, he chose the name of a famous French biscuit brand." He chuckled and Caroline followed him in his laughter. 

"Really?" She asked. 

"Oui! They are everywhere in France and equally successful. So each time he calls me that way, I remember my childhood. But oui, Mundy, a bit of the breast please." 

The Aussie obliged. 

"Dad, still the thighs?" 

Mike smiled. 

"You remember?"

"Course I do." Mundy smiled and cut the chicken thigh. "Wings for Mum… And bits of the rest for me… There." 

"Thanks, sweetie." Caroline got busy with the roasted vegetables. When she finished filling the plates and resumed her seat, the conversation started anew. 

"So Micky told us you helped him…?" Mike started. 

"In what aspect?" Lucien asked. 

"With… That bloke."

"Oh," Lucien nodded. "Indeed, I did my best. I had some business to settle with him and Mundy has provided a critical helping hand." Lucien and Mundy exchanged a grin that was taken for a friendly smile. 

"Why were you after'im?" Mike asked. 

"Mike, that's personal…!" Caroline said. 

"Non, please." Lucien answered. "It is all fine. I am happy to answer." He wiped the corners of his mouth and took a sip of the wine to clear his throat. "As Mundy may have told you, I lost my fiancée and son because of that man." 

"I'm so sorry to hear that, son…" Mike answered, shaking his head. 

"Merci. After that, I quit my job and rented a small flat in Paris. Similarly to Mundy, I couldn't bring myself to do anything, so I just waited to heal." 

Caroline and Mike were listening carefully between the bites of food. 

"How old was your son?" Caroline asked. 

"Fifteen…"

"You had waited fifteen years with a kid to get married?" Mike asked. 

"Mike…!" Caroline glared at him. 

"What? I'm just askin'!"

"It is alright, Caroline, thank you." Lucien answered. "Oui indeed I did wait a long time. If I am truly honest, I should say that the news of my then partner being pregnant shocked me beyond belief. It made a man out of me instantly, if that makes sense."

"Oh yeah it does…" Mike answered. "Same when we got Micky."

"Suddenly you don't live as two free adults, but as the trunk of a family tree. You have to be sturdy enough to support everyone and you have the responsibility of the most fragile being in existence." Lucien added. Mundy noticed his dreamy eyes as he stared into Mike's eyes. It looked like Lucien was in fact looking in his own mind. 

"Well said, son, well said." 

"When Marie gave birth to Jérémy, she stopped working. I pursued my career, still climbing up in responsibility and honor until Jérémy was old enough to perhaps understand my position in the army. Unfortunately, I had to travel a lot and missed their company, and Jérémy's growth sorely."

"I'm sorry for you, son…"

"So am I." Lucien answered. "Marie hated my job and spent her time begging me to quit. She hated the risk that I put myself into everyday and she feared that if Jérémy learnt about it, he might want to join the army too." 

Caroline nodded. 

"I was on my last mission when the accident happened." Lucien frowned. "As Marie and Jérémy exited the house, in Boston, I was watching them from the window. It happened too fast but to me, it lasted ten years. They crossed the road when a 4-by-4 took a turn, drifted on the asphalt, and hit them. I saw Marie tackle Jérémy to try and put him to safety but she took the hit first. Both were then ejected away." 

Lucien paused and put his fork down. 

"I ran to them, barefoot in the street, as I saw their bodies fly; that of the woman of my life, and my son, my flesh and blood, my angel. When I reached them, Marie was still holding Jérémy in her soft limbs while his eyes were shut. The ambulance arrived and Marie smiled with a last tear before shutting her eyes." 

All the forks had been put down and the silence weighed on everyone's shoulders. Lucien took a deep breath. 

"After that, my story is both very similar and very different to Mundy's. I locked myself up both figuratively and concretely. I quitted my job and stayed in a small flat in Paris. Oddly enough, my isolation lasted as long as Mundy's, ten years." 

Caroline and Mike's eyebrows jumped. 

"We're really sorry for you, Lucien." Caroline said and Lucien raised his eyes to her, a distraught smile on his lips. 

"Thank you." He nodded slightly, still quite moved.

"Go on, dear." She encouraged him. He took a deep breath and went on. 

"One day, I came to learn that the man who took Marie and Jérémy away from me was here, in Australia. So I jumped in the first flight and landed here."

There was a moment of silence around the table before Mike dared speak.

"Micky said you also knew Maurice…?" 

"Ah, oui, indeed I do. He is an old friend, from my military service days." Lucien answered.

"That's quite incredible!" Mike said. "I've known Maurice for decades now and I'd never have guessed he spent some time in France!" 

The concerto of cutlery on plate resumed.

"Oh but he did. And having ears and eyes everywhere in the city, he helped me track down that man until I met with Mundy." 

"How did you meet exactly?" Caroline asked. 

"Well, I am not sure such a story is for feminine ears…" 

"Aw, please! I killed this chicken myself!" She answered and Lucien's eyebrows jumped. He chuckled at the enthusiasm of the old lady.

"In that case," He cast a glance over Mike who seemed as eager to know as his wife. "I had in mind to be caught by his… Well… employees and find a way to make it to Duchemin directly." 

"Dew what?" Mike asked. 

"Duchemin, Arthur Duchemin was the name of that man who took everything from you and me." Lucien explained. "The first part of my plan worked beautifully and I found myself tied up to a chair by his goons."

"Oooh!" Caroline's eyes were shining in excitement. 

"But I underestimated Duchemin and didn't realise he could have me killed then and there. I was blinded by my will for revenge and ignored the possibility that I could end up dead." 

"So what did you do?" She asked, buzzing on her seat. 

"Me? Nothing. But in an instant, the guards around me started falling one after the other. I did not understand what was happening but it caused enough of a distraction that I managed to free myself."

"Ooh, what happened?" 

Lucien gave that lopsided grin that could make flowers bloom. 

"Mundy tranquilised them all and saved me that day." 

"W-well… I saw a bloke takin' a beatin while being tied up. And you weren't wearing their uniforms so… Heh…"

"Why were you there?" Mike asked. 

"That hangar where Lu' was, that's where the alligators I was after were." Mundy answered. "There were two trucks. One empty, one with the 'gators. I got closer when I made sure all the guards were shot asleep. I opened the first truck, it was empty. When I opened the second one, I found the 'gators and Lu'."

They exchanged a conniving glance. 

"Indeed, that is how we met." Lucien confirmed. "And we each considered the other like an enemy, or competition at least. In the end, we realised that we needed each other to do the job, so we teamed up." 

Everyone grinned around the table. 

"And so now you live together, eh?" Mike asked. 

"Oui, we do. In fact, we work together too. Mundy helps with his many talents. I only take the responsibility of teaching children and teenagers."

"That's really nice of both of you." Caroline said. 

"As Mike said," Lucien answered. "We try to work to make a positive difference around us." 

"Yeah, honest work, and good souls." Mike said. "So you do the teachin'?" 

"Oui."

"Ever done that before?" 

"Oui, in the ex-colonies, a few decades ago."

"Whereabouts?" 

"Northern Africa."

"Did you like it there?" 

"Oui, I did. Beyond the sunny weather and warm temperatures, people's mindset and customs were and still are considerably different from ours. I learnt a lot from their simpler way of life."

"Sounds like you did an awful lot of things in your life, eh? Singer, soldier, teacher…?" 

"Oui, and many others." Lucien nodded. "But please, enough about me…"

"Yeah, Mike, stop interrogating the guest…!" Caroline added. "Sorry, dear, we haven't had visits for quite a while."

"I'm just curious, Caroline!" 

"Exactly!" She answered. 

Mundy and Lucien chuckled at their banter. 

"I am glad you survived." Lucien said as everyone was finishing their meals. "When Mundy told me the news, he was restless!" 

Mundy blushed. He guessed Lucien wanted to insist on the impact that Mundy's parents' survival had on him. He smiled at his lover, hoping that Lucien would read "thank you" on his lips.

"Aw, Micky is such a sweetheart. You know Lucien, he might seem tall and strong, our boy, but he's very sensitive, very compassionate." Caroline said and held her son's hand. 

"Oh, trust me, I know very well." 

"Really?" Mike asked. 

"Oui, he rescued a black cat and I saw the respect with which he treats him."

"Back in the days, we used to have a few dogs." Caroline explained. "They loved Micky and were so excited to be around him…!"

"I can very well see why." 

"You rescued a kitty too, eh?" Mundy said to Lucien. "She's snow white, with long hair, she's gorgeous! He got her when she was a kitten and raised her. Mum, Dad, you should see them one day, the cats."

"Aw," Caroline grinned sweetly. "You can bring them next time." 

"Sure. Oh and Lu' didn't tell you but he trained his cat to wait at crossroads!"

"Seriously?" Mike asked. "You can train a cat to do that?"

"Yeah, he did! And I trained Sooty boy to do the same." 

"Sooty boy?" Caroline asked. 

"Yeah, the black cat, he's called Soot, and the white princess is Pearl." 

"Do they get along well?" Mike asked. 

"More than well." Lucien answered with a smile. 

"They got kittens together!" Mundy added. 

"Oh bugger! That's great!" Mike said. "How many?" 

And the discussion went on about the cats and the kittens. 

"But what about you guys? What have you been up to?" Mundy asked. 

"We got the garden goin' on at the back." Mike answered. "It's more than enough for us so we have the surplus sold. We go to the market on marketday and have a little stand there. We usually sell everything, not that it's much, but it helps pay the bills, eh?" 

"Oh, that's great!" Mundy answered. 

"All the veggies and potatoes you had today come from the garden." He added. 

"The chicken too!" Caroline added. "By the way Micky, d'you want some more?" 

"Nah, Mum, thanks, I'm full. But you have chickens? Like before?"

"Nah, not as many, just a few ones. But come on, Micky, just a bit more chicken…? A little bit…? You won't even feel it!" 

"Mum, please, I wanna save some space for dessert…!"

"Fine, alright." She turned to Lucien. "And what about you, dear? You liked my roasted chicken, yeah?" 

"It was exquisite, Caroline." Lucien answered. "But like Mundy, not tasting your dessert would be an insult to your culinary talents."

"Well that's some very nice way of putting it…!"

Caroline stood up and started to empty the table. Mundy helped her and in no time, Caroline was back with tea and dessert. 

"And here we are…"

"Oh, Mum, is this your chocolate cake?" Mundy asked excitedly.

"Yes it is!"

"Yes!" Mundy exclaimed. "Mum, you have no idea how much I like that…!"

"Of course I do!" She answered. "Now, be a sweetheart and give everyone some tea while I cut the cake, yeah?" 

"Sure." 

Both got busy while Mike and Lucien leaned back on their chairs.

"So you guys continue farmin'? That's really good." 

"Yeah, keeps us busy." Caroline added.

"And you, you ended up livin' together, eh?" Mike asked. 

"Oui, after the events with Duchemin, we… lived separately for a year." 

Mundy blushed beyond his ears. He was uncomfortable with the idea of lying to his parents. Hiding Lucien's true identity was a big enough lie but now, the Frenchman was also not talking about the period of time where he was supposedly dead. Mundy wished he could be brutally honest and just burst out with all the truth. But of course he couldn't. No, not now, and maybe not in a million years. Now was the time to get along with his parents again. He would think about telling them the truth about Lucien later… or maybe never. Gosh… 

Everyone started with their dessert and Lucien couldn't hold back a smile seeing Mundy roll his eyes in bliss while eating his mother's cake. 

"We were both coming back from the nerve-wrecking experience of dealing with that man." Lucien went on. "And after a year, our paths crossed again. Mundy was already working for Maurice and I was looking for something to keep my days busy, and provide Perle with everything that she needs." 

"Back then, I was still living in my van with the cats."

"The cats?" Caroline asked. "You had other ones?" 

Mundy blushed. 

"Uh… I mean…"

"He was also feeding the strays." Lucien jumped in to his rescue. "A very compassionate soul he is, and the best of friends." 

Again, the gaze that Lucien gave to Mundy, with heavy lidded-eyes, spoke much louder to the Aussie than to his parents. And then Mundy realised that if Lucien managed to remain unfazed it was because for him, it was routine, or it had been routine for decades, with him being a spy…

"Maurice's pay isn't much, but with the two of us, we can afford the bills." Mundy said. "And well, I knew Lu', he knew me so the housemate choice was quick and easy."

"Aw, that's very nice… I can't remember the last time Micky brought a friend home to be honest." Caroline said. 

"And he chose one with great taste for his wines at least, eh?" Mike added with a smile. 

"Many thanks, I am truly honoured to meet you." Lucien nodded his head like a bow. 

The dinner went well and as the dessert plates were now all empty, the discussion naturally came to an end. 

"Thank you again for your delicious dinner and for having me to share it." Lucien said at the door while Caroline gave him his jacket. "Oh, thank you." 

"You're very welcome, boys." She tapped his arm and Lucien smiled. "You'll be safe on your way back, yeah?" 

"Yeah, Mum, don't worry…" Mundy kissed his mother on her head. 

"Right, right, be safe, boys, eh?" Mike added as hugs were exchanged and hands were shaken. 

"We will, Mike." Lucien answered. 

They made their way to the motorcycle and Lucien motioned Mundy to drive. The Aussie hopped on, and Lucien behind him.

"Come back and visit soon, Micky, eh?" Caroline asked. 

"I will, Mum, don't worry." 

Both slipped on their helmets and Mundy started the engine.

"See ya!" Mike and Caroline waved at Mundy and Lucien who flew away in the street. 

"Aw, such good boys they are… And Lucien…! Very polite, eh?" Caroline said as Mike and her made it back home. They cleared up the rest of the table and chatted about their dinner again. 

"Really seems like our boy Micky is a man now, eh? Only thing missin' is a good sheila and boom!" Mike said. 

"Aw, yeah… Can you imagine? Micky with a girlfriend…?" Caroline answered. 

"Can't really, he never brought anyone home before. It's the first time in… whew… Can you remember the last time he brought a friend home?" Mike brought more plates to the sink, where Caroline was washing the dishes. "Caroline?" 

He found her staring emptily in front of her and frowning. 

"What's wrong?" He asked. 

"There's something that doesn't add up…" She answered. 

"What?" 

"It's his jacket." 

"Micky's?"

"Nah, his friend's…" She put a hand on her hip. 

"What about it?" 

"They said that they moved in together to afford the rent, right?" 

"Yeah, and?"

"How come the brand of his jacket is Lemercier?" 

"Le-what?" Mike asked. 

"Lemercier, it's the expensive tailor in the old centre, he only does custom-made stuff…" 

"Bah, he might've got that at work with Maurice." Mike answered. "Y'know how rich folks can throw anything in the bin, Caroline." 

"Yeah…" 

She resumed her washing of the dishes and Mike helped her. Their conversation fell silent, and as Mike glanced at his wife again, he saw that her brow was still furrowed. 

"Not buyin' it?" He asked.

"No, I'm not. There's something that's missin', Mike."

"Ah, women…"

"Mike, I am being serious." She raised her eyes to her husband and pushed her glasses back with the back of her hand. "Lucien is polite, nice and all, but there is something we're missing."

[dzaneena]

2020 Recap, Onwards 2021!

New year always makes us think of how our previous year has been. It’s been a heck of a ride and I think it would be sort of a good way to remind ourselves of the hardships, lessons learned, and growth there’s been in the past year. Here’s how mine turned out. January

Oh, new year, new hope. I thought this would be the year I could make it mine. Get the things I’ve always wanted and spoil myself with every little thing I could not have when I was younger. Job is going well, financially stable and able, everything was fine. This month, I’ve purchased my first Macbook. Yes, apparently I’ve been sucked up into the apple ecosystem and now I want to experience all of it if I can. I did and I’m happy about this. It’s been a dream for someone who always had to save each meal into two so I could have it for my next meal just so I can save money.

February

Oh, the month of love! Yes, yes. I had the chance to travel to Thailand, being the temporary adopted child of a friend’s family. I was thrilled to be there and experience this one-of-a-kind experience. At this time, the virus was not that rampant with everything and there were no restrictions for travel. We thought everything was fine and would be fine. 

March

A week after arriving from our trip to Thailand, I got a text from one of my closest friends asking if I would like to spend a weekend in Vietnam with her. Well, of course I did! At this time, finances were a-ok! I could afford it. Plus, the food there was really good at a low price! We didn’t spend much on this trip. We just hung out and took photos here and there.  We arrived one day before the city announced General Community Quarantine. We were lucky to arrive at that exact day or we would have been stranded in another country for God knows how long. :( Work was feeling the effects of the pandemic already. 50% of our workmates were laid off. This was a sad, sad time. I couldn’t help but think of all our workmates who had to think of how to survive without work through this pandemic under the quarantine with little to no mobility. 

April

Work has been... work. Everyone had to cut their hours and get back to basic pay. I am thankful to still have work but this took a big hit with my finances, of course. I live alone. Recently paying off the house I’ve invested in from last year. 

This was also the month my friends practically forced me to play mobile games. Thank goodness they did! This was where all my rage/frustration was spent. 

May

Remember that house I invested in? Yeah, that went down the drain, literally lol. I’ve been having problems with leaks and puddles of water coming through the walls of the house which caused a chain of serious issues, health-wise and safety-wise. This was a hazardous house to live in. I guess it’s true what they say about things being “too good to be true”. I’ve tried to settle this with the landlord but I didn’t get not one penny back, not even my deposit. I’ve been paying this for over a year. Much, much regrets. There’s a whole lot that happened during this time. I had to move out and decided to just cut further losses and be done with it. I couldn’t sleep at night for no idea how many weeks/months because of all that money I’ve invested that just vanished. I still feel a weird kind of sadness every time it rains. It always flooded in that house whenever it rained. So you can see how much I relate to that movie “Parasite”. 

June

Lucky I have a house to still come home to. This was the previous house I lived in before purchasing that God-forsaken flooded house. I was adjusting and trying to make the best of what I could for the time being. I had a small renovation project as well. 

July

Renovation project going well and it was my joy to see how clients were happy about it. This was also the first time I was seeing my mother since January and it was only for a few hours because she had to go back to our hometown within 24 hours or else she would have to be quarantined. Traveling was such a pain during this time. We can’t even go visit our hometown to see our family.

On the bright side, I got to try out a lot of food (all home-cooked, of course). And I got to learn to cook some Korean food as well. I was well into the k-drama world for this whole time.

August

Kittens were growing up well. My cat gave birth in May but a lot of things happened then. I had 3 cats pregnant almost at the same time. Needless to say, we had to castrate our lover boy cat, Brutus. Though he had one last go before we did this and got another round of our cats getting pregnant. I can’t even. 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

Had the opportunity to do a product photoshoot for a local ice cream business. It was an amazing experience and it’s cool to think that people actually believe in my photography skills if I had any. LOL. 

September

My birth month. I found out that I wasn’t even worth one minute of people’s time to text me. LOL. Well, life goes on. (Insert BTS’ Life Goes On)

On the positive side, my boyfriend’s family decided to do a Korean dinner (Samgyeupsal, Kimchi Jjiggae, Tteokbokki) for my birthday. It was really sweet of them. 😭🥰 I couldn’t spend my birthday with any of my family but they spent it with me. I’m tearing up just writing this down hehehe thankful for this second family.

October

One of my closest friends was getting married. I kid you not, we were waiting for this day to happen ever since college. We travelled to the city where he was getting married with the Friendship Pause crew. (That’s a whole other story LOL) It was nice getting a nice moment down from all the crap we’ve been facing. 

I was also able to get back to my hometown for my mother’s birthday. Despite all the travel restrictions, we managed to push through. My eldest brother and I are the only ones not living in our hometown. 

November

Ahh, yes. The year is almost over but it still feels like we’re stuck in March. During the span of the year lately, I’ve been actively looking for a second job for extra income. And thankfully, because I’m such a “never give up, never surrender” kind of person, I’ve landed a few jobs project-based for this year. I’ve been a graphic designer, personal assistant, transcriptionist, food photographer, social media manager assistant, etc.  I’ve also landed my latest job from a start-up company. It’s amazing how some people can see your grit and potential. I pray we all get to do what we want to do in life so it won’t be such a chore to do. My first (online) job is the very first job that I actually enjoy and everyday, I am really excited to get work done. Hoping that this company recovers from the economic hit of the pandemic fast. 

December

Ahh, the last month for this challenging year. What could be in store for us? I think this pandemic has hit us physically, emotionally, mentally, psychologically, and financially. It also makes you realize things. I realized that I’m no one’s go-to friend. I’m just that extra friend right there when you need me to be. Not a particular someone you call when something’s up. That’s okay, I guess. We can’t be everybody to...well, everybody! Haha! 

I’ve been into tech lately and with all the gaming I was doing, I created a gaming page somewhere along in those past months. Streaming games was one of my stress relievers. Hopefully, if I can have a stable source of income, I’ll be able to do this full-time seeing that traveling is still out of the picture.  All in all, this was such a shitty year. There are a lot of in-betweens that happened this year and I had to just highlight some things but basically, it’s just been so hard. I know I’m probably not the only one struggling and trying to survive on a daily basis. I am thankful that I have a job (3 actually, 4 if you count our online business on hiatus) and I am still able to put food into my stomach. But sometimes, we just need a good cry and some ice cream maybe.

If you’ve read this far, thank you! Thank you for actually caring to read my thoughts and random stuff I have in mind. We may not see each other but please know that I really appreciate your effort. 

On a lighter note, I hope everyone will be happier this coming 2021. Stay safe!